Archive for the ‘Time’ Category

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

 

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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

 

“You wanna give me a Birthday present?” annoyed, I reply.

“OK, fine:

nuclear apocalypse,

everyone dead, gone,

but me, left untouched,

alone,

time and space to think and be,

peace!

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

A wise person does not ask a wo/man

about age.

Still, you ask.

Dolt!

… I am as old as the mountains

and as young as this morning’s dew.

I have been alive for as long as I can remember …

In the grand scheme of things,

a mere few days.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

My Birthday.

I appreciate the fact of the date,

the anniversary,

I was born on this day,

that’s nice,

significant to me.

Age?

I don’t feel like celebrating

or commiserating that,

it just is,

and it

depends

upon how I feel.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Koniec Gry (Game Over)

 

I remember when

(it seemed)

I had all the time in the world.

All the time in the world,

indeed,

until it ends.

(Childhood, time, the world…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

As old as the hills

and as young as the latest treachery.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Sibir Rail Track, Taiga, Sunrise

 

My chance has gone,

the calendar and passport say.

“Did I ever actually have one?”

I sigh.

Fate has no reply.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat