Archive for the ‘Time’ Category

The month flew by

like an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile,

thrust into Space,

an affront to God,

burned up on re-entry.

Time, gone.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

I don’t look in the mirror

because I don’t want to see myself,

future, past.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Time’s up, I’m told.

Funny, I didn’t even know the clock was ticking, that I had to be mindful of an end.

Strange, I thought “this” would last forever,

beautifully sweet, sour and indescribable,

it feels like it’s been my everything for so long,

alas, I’ll miss it and what I thought it was or could have become,

possibilities.

Gone.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

I didn’t used to get it

when my grandfather used to complain

about me using an “unnecessary” dish

which he would later have to wash.

Now, with time and pain

I understand all too well,

it’s not about laziness , the refrain,

it’s about futility,

and realizing that time, energy

and life in this realm

are all too finite.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Shit!

Time missed.

Clock ticks.

You glance.

No second chance.

How your heart sinks,

when you realize the minute hand

is moving 60 to the dozen.

Life, think,

see, perceive,

mistake,

chance gone.

Yesterday is something to look forward to.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

It was the 9th of May.

Victorious!

Touching the immortal.

And suddenly it’s the 10th of May…

and desecration is back on the menu.

Alas,

time

forward.

Back to perfidy.

Roza, forgive me.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Tired,

so tired.

Drained, sunk, mired.

Я чертовски устала…

Ya chertovski ustala…

But it’s Spring,

they tell me,

I should be feeling alive.

Alive?

Sigh!

Tired.

Disruption.

Time?

What Winter?

I realize, with chagrin, I didn’t get to hibernate,

I am the definition of perpetually disturbed.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

In my earnest endeavors tomorrow and yesterday,

I am reminded again:

the only person you can rely on is yourself,

and then,

only some of the time.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

The vagaries

of our imaginings

of time.

Unreal.

A metaphor.

Shit!

Does any of *it* matter!

Does your life, as you see it,

your ideas of priority,

remain constant,

important?

Like, last night’s essential endeavor,

now but a faded memory,

lost in the mud of today,

dog faeces.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

When futurity turns into maturity,

when tomorrow becomes yesterday,

you wake up in a cell,

and you feel you have nothing left to hope for.

They lock the door,

they staple your feet to the floor,

and force you to watch the same race,

turgid time, after turgid time,

your least favorite Biathlete ever,

winning, yet again.

30cm TV screen, all too large,

you took a wrong turn

after the Hermitage.

 

©ddr7hd