Archive for the ‘Pravda’ Category

Red Terror,

White Terror,

Day Terror,

Night Terror.

Memories I imagine,

from other people’s accounts.

I shudder with repulsion, pain and fear.

Yes, I understand,

but I don’t know.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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I dreamt (well, I think it was a dream),

one night or day,

that “they” asked me to negotiate

Mid-East peace,

the epitome of deal-brokering,

the ultimate legacy maker,

the secular holy grail, so as to speak.

Me?

Why not?

So, I tried, as others have, and failed.

And…

My conclusion: the belligerents maintain the conflict, so as to validate themselves and, importantly, to keep revisiting 5-star hotels in relatively pristine European cities…

where nice prostitutes remember their names.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Une monde sans pitié,

l’univers de la désenchantée.

 

©ddr7hd

 

Radio Progress calling:

This is your early morning invitation

to do

physical exercise,

right there,

at home,

before you go to school or work.

Embrace the life force!

Feel.

Sweat.

Purify.

Then further get into the progress vibe,

with intelligent discussion.

Learn something useful.

Develop

Hope

Communist Youth

Everlasting.

Radio

Progress.

You will remember these days with fondness.

 

©ddr7hd

 

I woke up with a 1 Ruble coin in my hand.

Strange.

How and from whom, unknown.

It fitted perfectly into my hand’s curl,

palm receptive.

I felt its curve and brought it up to my face.

I smelled it, for some reason,

then studied *its* face.

1977, Olympic issue,

3 years hence,

history…

I smiled.

I wonder who held it before me,

this coin,

who bequeathed it,

several times over,

in serendipitous turns,

people,

generally unthinking and banal,

fleeting possession, in exchange…

Maybe to buy toilet paper,

possibly bread,

50 issues of Pravda?

Perhaps Andropov himself…

 

©ddr7hd

 

I don’t remember how I got to sleep,

nor for how long I slept.

No dreams,

hazy memory.

I came to with a horribly dry mouth,

groggy,

I felt like I’d been drugged.

The TV was on but silent,

the gray-white-black fuzz they call snow

pulsating.

I imagined it was falling

and, with a tight smile,

I imagine the real thing might be falling too,

outside.

My mind’s eye…

It might as well be Saturn.

 

©ddr7hd

 

Ah, yes, Gleiwitz,

A lie,

Like all the others…

A lie,

To die for?

How many millions followed?

Deafening,

Deadening,

Noise.

 

I crouch over the bucket and piss.

Ahh, relief!

Simple pleasure, perverted context.

Water is the first medicine.

It passes,

and splashes upon my thighs.

Kindly, my captors have provided old newspaper for me to wipe myself.

It is Pravda.

How appropriate.

The truth shall set you free…

within the bounds of societal captivity.