Archive for the ‘Pamyat’ Category

They consulted their paperwork,

the list,

so as to speak.

And,

They came for me,

because I was

one of us,

apparently

it was enough.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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She left me with attractive words,

the promise of peace and beautiful life…

Little did I know they would be her last words (to me),

and I would fall from orbit, so tumultuously.

My mother, my sister, my me,

bonne nuit…

Gone.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

People do what they think they’re meant to,

survival and betterment,

exploitation is key.

Some lie, many die,

slavery and bondage,

peace merges into war.

Restricted and conscripted

people fight,

convinced in the rightness of ideas,

progress will later condemn as wrong.

Children mourn: they see the stupidity with foresight,

would that they could deviate

but resistance is futile,

coercion rules …

Children are tomorrow’s slaves,

if they are fortunate, Janissaries.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Compromised,

Decimated,

You struggle to speak,

Burevestnik.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Everyday,

perfidy.

And all the forgiveness you can muster

will not change what has been,

the evil committed,

the pain you feel every single day.

What is gone

and what is left.

The more you dig,

the bigger the hole.

Betrayed by family,

diminished humanity.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

O Dedushka!

Happy memories

tarnished by what came next,

trashed by other people.

… Nonetheless,

tomorrow,

novaya nadezhda,

we will rise,

re-energized,

and they will be forgotten.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Fuck posterity,

it didn’t exist yesterday.

History is tomorrow.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

So, woe.

I didn’t get sent away on a Philosopher’s Ship.

Apparently I have something better to offer…

Indeed,

a train awaits, pointing the other way,

for me and my comrades a cattle car,

teplushka.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Detachment,

allows everyone,

disparate,

to progress their agenda,

regardless of carnage.

Drugs, evil, gangs, pain.

Oliver North,

Sheepshead Bay hero,

yes man, can-do man,

are you listening?

Repenting?

Mixed-up,

real Americans,

know it’s complicated.

(…Please desist from blaming us

for everything…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

When the atlas meant something…

The promise of both escape and finding oneself.

Wide expanse…

Indeed.

When you could dream

and remember the next day.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat