Archive for the ‘People Suck’ Category

Pinochet & Friends

Nothing seems to motivate people

(and evil)

quite like the prospect of wealth

and power.

Treason against self and collective,

“better angels” left to piss in wind.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

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testing-teeth-in-an-islamic-slave-market

If ever she says:

“I’m proud of you.”

It will be tinged

with the sadness of knowing,

for me,

it is not true.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Mirny

Emptiness,

when you realize you’re all alone in this world.

Vulnerable,

despite your best endeavours

to make connections.

Loneliness,

when you need someone to help,

but no reply, no hand to caress.

All that remains is an

empty hole,

a laxative for the soul.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Stressed & Depressed

Always some new expectation,

deadline, complication,

guilt-trip obligation,

pressure

(to put you under condemnation).

This is what you live for?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Wm covers ears, abuse (k1news.ru, opensource)

Shut your eyes,

block your ears,

hold your nose…

Things we wish we did not know!

Nausea, repulsion, abhorrence,

detestable human condition,

hateful people, pain.

In our lives we have a gutful,

no wonder, ultimately,

we acquiesce

to death.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Earth, Dry, Cracked

Sometimes,

many times,

you know that, really, you don’t want to know.

Knowing is a burden,

a form of responsibility you don’t need or want,

yet you are drawn in,

compulsively,

destructively,

fear of missing out,

banality,

written on your tombstone.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

1

Careful,

so careful.

Doing things the right way, loving and protecting,

caressing.

All for naught,

as some motherfucker in a ludicrously big van

careens carelessly, thoughtlessly, selfishly

into your frame and smashes

everything

into jagged pieces.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

1934

Lilli’s mother,

who remains at heart a Nazi,

once told her:

it is good for children to play in dirt.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Gangsters

In vino veritas,

in wealth decadence.

New York City,

1920,

goodbye peaceful drink.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Kukolka

“Baby doll,” he said to me,

creepily,

“everything’s fucked up and then you die.”

He swallowed, then sighed:

“And don’t go thinking you can rely on me.”

 

©SvetkaSamizdat