Archive for the ‘Time’ Category

TASS, Moskva, 1978

People demand the job be done ASAP,

time is money, they say,

but sometimes, the time just isn’t right,

and some things shouldn’t be rushed,

regardless.

… Take a lesson from yesterday,

unless you want tomorrow’s garbage today.

 

(To be continued…)

       

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Cuckoo Clock, Crooked, Kucku

Time marches on,

relentlessly, mercilessly, mockingly.

Time evaporates,

desecrates, eviscerates, obliterates.

Hope, gone.

Resistance, futile.

Tomorrow, die, or do it all again.

 

(To be continued…)

       

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Dzhentileski_ Melankholiya

*I*, am struggling with today.

*They*, are talking about tomorrow, excited and relishing prospects.

I want to forget anything beyond the past.

 

(To be continued…)

       

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Charles the Bald 1b

Charles the Bald (not to be confused with Charles the Bold),

may or may not have actually been bald (depending upon what is meant by bald).

This year, if you want to give me a present, so as to say,

don’t give me anything new,

s’il vous plaît.

The past is quite enough to deal with.

 

(To be continued…)

       

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Vremya

Boss fumes, telling me she needs this thing done *yesterday*!

But, it’s already tomorrow in Australia …

So, what chance, what hope?

 

(To be continued…)

               

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Chasy-slomanniy

Today, I realized that my clock is running slow.

Which is to say, my clock has been progressively slowing over time.

Losing seconds, minutes, “life”.

In effect, my clock has been regressing, whilst progressing.

Indeed, ipso facto, as such,

I am reminded, on so many levels, how

the supposedly “progressive” in actuality,

for the balance of humanity,

is regressive.

 

©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

 

Waking (too early),

in groggy clarity,

I recognize last night’s

thoughts and writing,

as beautiful, insightful

(insanity).

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Time flies,

everyday people die.

Time and people pass away,

forgotten every day.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Time flies

and we die.

Buried treasure,

maggots eat,

become flies.

Time…

 

©SvetkaSamizdat