Archive for the ‘Perfidie’ Category

Merkel & Macron (WW1 End 100yr Anni, 2018)

Balls of steel?

For the politician,

try balls of plasticine.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

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Hole (Sky View)

We play the game

(though it degrades us),

we are told we are meant to play,

and we believe it proper

(but, inside, if we listen,

it *feels* so wrong).

… Molested soul,

gaping hole:

the more you take,

the bigger it grows!

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Relotius_ Jaegers Grenzer

Regardless of what your American relatives tell you,

everything, indeed, is relative:

truth, justice and the American way,

is truth, lies and compromise.

The answer to the question depends upon time, place

and who is doing the asking.

Objectivity is admirable but, alas, illusive,

and screw liberal “New York Times” hubris.

Everything is

what the powers that be

want it to be.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Nazi Maedchen Suki

The megalomaniac is a democrat,

he/she/it wants to fuck as many lives

as will choose to be seduced.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

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In a past life,

I was sent into space,

launched in a rocket,

I forget the time and place.

Traumatized, atomized,

blasted and dissected,

everything lost meaning,

form and being.

Nevertheless,

I have a feeling that I wasn’t dog or ape,

hopefully then, I was Félicette,

Parisienne Hero Cat,

not, alas, a nameless,

forgotten rat.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

It breaks my heart,

the pain and frustration,

which people, place and circumstance

have forced us into.

Like Chinese water torture, drop by drop,

wearing us away,

lies and deceptions drain,

our blood,

our will,

systems and conspiracies destroy.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Sakhalin 1

Banal enemies:

May their worst-case scenario

become reality!

Their pitiful existence sucks!

Truly, they are beneath me,

but like an insect, hell-bent,

barb deployed,

greeting withheld,

they bite.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Piton de la Fournaise, 2004

Disembodied voice,

blast from past,

blood runs cold,

memories and nausea,

molten lava in head.

… Sometimes,

for some people,

the less said

is best.

… Piton de la Fournaise!

 

©SvetkaSamizdat