In this time and place,
in the mist of morning tiredness,
as you dread the day ahead,
if you want to be honest,
really,
as you drink your orange juice
and/or Earl Grey tea,
you don’t give a shit about some rainforest frog.
Life is…
dog eat dog.
(and fuck the façade
human misery trumps all!)
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
Everything’s compromised,
body, soul, objects.
Imposed hopelessness
pervades my being
and doing.
Time, people, society:
I am stripped naked
and tortured,
gleefully
onlookers cheer.
…
Futility overtakes,
I give up the race.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
1993.
The Polish kids tell me
they *Love* Michael Jackson.
That’s nice, I reply (thinking of you),
he loves Polish kids too.
They look at me innocently, expectantly,
word in the village is
I’d once been to Hungary.
…
Bitterly, the babysitter reflects:
“Kids, you can do anything,
as evil as you like,
total impunity,
if you’re rich and famous enough.
This is the way of the West.
Exploitation, decadence, degradation.
As the man-child sings:
“Finger-fuck, my baby,
it don’t matter if you’re black or white”.
…
New world order,
disenchanted and confused,
past, present, future,
Polish kids cry.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
“That girl,
I followed her.
She led me into a dark place.”
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
I’m not envious of your success,
your riches are an irrelevance,
your existence meaningless.
I hate you
and your ease of being,
nonetheless,
I don’t want your things.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
We have much in common,
like a fondness for sunflower seeds,
indeed,
we also bleed.
©ddr7hd
…
