In tiredness’ grip, I want to sleep,
I *need* to dream, it’s been a long day…
To hell with the illogical desecration of the beauty which should be reality.
(To be continued…)
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
In tiredness’ grip, I want to sleep,
I *need* to dream, it’s been a long day…
To hell with the illogical desecration of the beauty which should be reality.
(To be continued…)
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
I didn’t ask to be born.
I didn’t ask for this or that thing to go wrong.
Nevertheless, I live, and *try* to believe the best.
(To be continued…)
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
Pray about it!
Sure, OK,
but I resent my sacred prayers
being devoted to
pissants.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
Hope and *Believe*
in Miracles.
Because, what else do we have to grasp?
Cleopatra’s asp and fear?
No! … Despair sucks us down.
I know it’s so,
as pain persists,
but, if and when you can,
resist.
And believe in *some* kind of miracle,
a possibility,
whatever your mind’s eye can muster.
Look beyond the horizon:
see epiphany and bliss.
Then turn inward, friend,
intimate, honest, candid,
and speak to God.
Cry,
speak and listen.
Commune
with
Peace.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
Haunted by the feeling that something catastrophic,
bad,
is about to happen (like yesterday),
I seek stability,
the perpetually missing element,
security.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
But the voice in my head tells me:
Revenge would be wasted on such an unthinking shit.
“OK, if not living revenge,
then how about snapping his neck,
extinguishing his exploitative, selfish life?”
…
Mistreated and abused,
what can our hero do?
If revenge is futile
and liable to complicate,
what chance justice, redress?
(In a world that doesn’t care…
Un monde sans pitié…)
…
“Dear God,
feel my pain
hear my cry!”
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
Privet, Pripyat.
…
Tainted Earth,
long before ’86
Adam and Eva fell
(vice versus versa,
we’re in this together).
…
Indeed,
we all fall,
human beings disgrace,
yesterday, today, infinity,
stained,
no hope,
but perchance
pray
miraculous
Grace.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
I don’t wanna be
a cum stain on history.
Pray, let me be *me*.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
Open Kiska.
Open Minds.
Thinking.
Meditating.
Believing.
Miracles.
Believing possible.
Bearing Fruit.
Beautiful,
Golden Apples of Hesperides.
Have Faith.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
Alone in my cell, I prayed.
Soul sunk, I mumbled,
trying to believe,
but feeling despair.
And nothing else.
And no one.
And hopeless.
Empty prayer.
Until something within told me to be ardent,
bold,
forthright…
Very well…
I gulped and said, with all I could muster:
“Fuck you devil!”
Indeed.
A beautiful prayer.
At once,
confidence and clarity returned to my being.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…