Archive for the ‘Time’ Category

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

 

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

 

Today, they convert you

to their perverted way of thinking,

seducing,

enticing

and delighting certain tendencies.

(Clever, addictive storylines on your TV & computer screen…)

They inhabit and take over,

your soul and being,

leaving no space or desire

for resistance.

(Indeed, I wonder which evil was worse, and how:

then or now…)

 

©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

 

Sometimes

no time

is a good time.

Sometimes

it’s relative,

often it’s absolute.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

I prefer pen to pencil,

the expectation of permanence,

even if it entails the occasional smudge.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat