Poems

Transitions №7

Author: Dorian Stoilescu

 
they didn’t want to listen

they have seen & heard for decades. everything.
with their eyes and ears. listened endlessly
way too much evidence from the victims of the East.
but those confirmations didn’t have glamour. these
were boring (for public, for media, it was a ghetto).
in fact, the elders had a long time ago made truce
with the evil (pardon me, with Stalin & descendants),
so from now on, they mimed a sublime oblivion
of all the crimes after wwii (from half of Europe)
to be ignored in exchange for a so-called peace.

they paid the soviet hoodlums to return home.
they rewarded them to drink their minds
and pride. but everything was bound to implode
at a special time. they heard the admonitions, the snarls
of the underworld putinists,
thought it could made them feel better by filling them… with real
estates, jewelleries, pipelines, terminals.
they laundered money for oligarchs, kleptocrats,
Shilovitzes, FSB, or Russian mafia,
they read literature and history about ussr-nkvd-gulag,
they saw movies, talked about everything
widely and for anyone, anywhere
about ideologies, tyrants, happenings and hopes.

but all were printed in extremely limited editions,
a well-prepared recycling process way before broadcast.
everything… spectacle and adrenaline…
everything… to give glimmers of hope and then…
to give bolshevik thugs a good siesta,
because… it’s well known. in addition,
cowardice, conformity, fear of future, were
(eventually) victorious. they chose to say nice things,
they chose a fake safety, it didn’t matter that was cruel,
immoral, unsuccessful upfront. they accepted lies,
threats, robberies, murders, from those enraged
by the loss of the soviet empire.

stalinism, leninism, dughinism? they declared all these
worthy of a museum, but in the cold nights
all those relics would wake up, get out of the books,
and start threatening and poison.
they have become accustomed to these dangers,
they refused to condemn that specie of Russianism
with Russian or Soviet people in role of chosen people,
that mixture (beyond logic or common sense)
as instead of the Aryan race
it was mix from everything: panslavism,
communism, nazism, orthodoxy…

but now everyone shrugs,
they say nothing could be known in advance.
then it started his war…on Dragobete.*

*The Feast of Dragobete is considered a celebration of love and is celebrated at the twinning of the months of February and March. In most places, the date of celebration is February 24.

 
invasion — Eastern European Spring 2022

the ugliest sunrise when you wake up
everything is unusually quiet. a silence for decades
which becomes more and more compromising.
it will end suddenly, it will soon absorb
an inferno of hatred, disappointment, anger
by explosions & smoke
in Kyiv, Nikolaev, Sumy, Kharkov, Odessa…

rockets trying to swallow everything they can,
then helicopters fighting tanks…
cannons spreading wrath everywhere,
chaotic attacks on nuclear facilities
drones fighting against everything that moves…

lethal weapons recommended to be avoided… still there!
millions of refugees. a compromised peace. battles
which have not been lived for almost a century
hallucinatory reappearance
on the maps of the East.

 
ancestral

the grass in the neighbour’s garden?
way greener, like the enviousness.
we don’t just want the death of its goat,
but hunt it when none is paying attention.

offside!!! when we want to do something good,
always caught with some cowardice or stupidity.
dribbling to truth and common sense, always
we give them away first.
perfection in the construction of our alibis
when we want to show that good is not possible.
all like maidens, we invent our sufferings.

green horses on the walls, demobilization,
apologists who were no more.
the war knocking at the door
and it’s not ours. for now.
waiting in vain, indifference, as
we would be
packs of wolves hungry to prove our emptiness…
aww!!!! yes, no one beats us.