Archive for the ‘Sleep’ Category

Lilit (Lilith), John Collier, 1887

 

If you’re a cognizant being,

regardless of your position,

if you wait long enough,

and are quiet enough to listen,

a tsunami of futility will hit,

and

questioning the point of existence,

you will either run screaming

or curl into a foetal ball.

Your best hope?

Another world.

Sleep, friend,

embrace the pressure on your chest,

Lilit awaits.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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Broken 3

 

Tired of life,

tired of strife,

self-centered people,

havoc, greed.

… Imbalance,

degradation,

despair …

Need relief,

peace,

love,

care.

Forlorn,

best hope

sleep.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Sweet as

a sleep deprived dream

in which your dog,

dead 10 years or more,

jumps into bed with you,

his paws on your shoulders,

he pulls you back to another time and place,

you feel his long member hard and extended,

it’s against your back and then it’s inside of you,

and he’s fucking you,

forcefully,

nastily,

like the brutish little rapist he was

and apparently is.

Sweet as…

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Mid-sentence… I always seem to wake.

No wonder I feel dazed, confused,

perpetually half-baked.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Sleep.

Eat.

Sleep.

Shit.

Sleep.

Dream.

Sleep.

Think.

Sleep.

Stretch.

Sleep.

Write.

Perfect life.

Catlike.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

So tired, feeling.

So old, feeling.

So much exploited, dragged through the mud

and left for dead.

I need to sleep.

I *need* to sleep.

But how much life do I have left?

(How much I have missed!)

Can I afford the luxury of dreams?

Can I afford the poverty of dearth?

 

©ddr7hd

 

What Beauty?

At the end of the day,

it’s like,

well, that’s that,

and was there any point?

Frustrated, violated,

implicated, complicated…

Screwed over by people

and inanimate objects,

screwed over by societal

and weather systems,

screwed over by life, death,

revolution and resolution,

screwed over by everything,

so it seems,

night and day,

no end.

Catch your breath, if you can,

before it is gone forever.

Sigh.

Yawn.

Scorn.

Wishing others unborn.

Disenchanted,

the giant seeks solace in sleep.

©ddr7hd

 

Condoleezza Rice followed me

as I walked through Foggy Bottom.

Smart woman,

she knows something.

I am a sleeping giant…

Let me lie.

Let me dream.

When I’m ready,

I will rise.

Ipso facto,

leave me be…

let me deal,

let me rest,

let me heal.

 

I woke up and found myself outside of the Mir,

it was unpleasant,

it quickly became a way of life,

*sigh*.

Village, community, commune, collective, safety, peace, the whole world as I knew it,

GONE…

Imagine being excluded!

With no hope of returning to something which probably never truly existed (except in our collective imaginations) …

Imagine.

“What is ‘truly’?” I asked myself, from my new (every morning) perspective.

Indeed,

I prefer sleep.

 

Define dream.

Define reality.

Somewhere in New York City,

on a TV set,

in a room,

a state of mind,

beyond Brighton Beach…

Somewhere,

sometime,

a grandiose statement was made

about destiny shaking hands with history.

… Really?

Like, wow!

And, how…

And, this production was brought to you by the ghosts of Leni Riefenstahl and Rosa Luxemburg.

Read, kids, read, believe and intercede!