Archive for the ‘Time, Gone’ Category

Flower Blows, Hope_

It’s not the end of the world,

so as to say.

But, yes, actually it kind of is …

Here and now, this time and place,

for the individual and collective,

this very minute:

Gone, blown away.

 

(To be continued…)

               

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Vremya

“All the time in the world!” …

Until said world ends.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Vremya

Wonderful, beautiful ideas,

I am driven to think, explore.

Strands enticing in myriad directions,

intriguing …

But life and time intrude,

like a neighbor’s chainsaw,

“reality”, hah,

the night is bleeding away.

Ultimate frustration, desperation,

despair,

I’m all too aware …

Tomorrow’s clock is ticking.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

 

Otto Mueller_ Tänzerin mit Schleier, 1903 v2

Tuesday, I was briefly happy.

In 1875, I was not yet born.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

1879, Prang, Boston

For as long as there is a calendar,

which informs and dictates our thoughts and actions,

there can be no freedom.

Watching our dreams fly away…

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Chasy-slomanniy

Gradually,

slowly,

painstakingly,

forwards,

backwards,

footsteps.

In life’s serpentine cycle,

as months and years pass,

dissolving,

time comes to have little meaning.

Ultimately,

all clocks stop.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Time flies,

everyday people die.

Time and people pass away,

forgotten every day.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Time passes and context proves the undoing

of everything you hoped would be.

Like, this afternoon’s enlightening sentiment

buried by tonight’s depleted body

and spat-upon soul.

Still, the clock keeps ticking,

yes, the fucking clock,

the calendar,

people,

and various rodents,

continue,

conspire,

torment,

suck you dry.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

The days slide away.

Grandfather dies, as clock breaks.

Mentality screwed.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

My watch has stopped working,

but I’m in no hurry to fix it.

I’ve lost track of time,

and I feel fine.

Hours, days, months, years,

decades,

into obscurity fade.

All is history.

Thus, I can detach myself

and analyze

appropriately,

safe from the capricious dictates

of the elusive,

practically non-existent

present.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat