North Wind Cloudy

Inner scope, the stench of scheme
The non-descript anomaly
Canvassed in laden boots a peg
A civilization put to bed
Co lesion plaice adrift and so
The hemorrhage of said Volga flows
Passed birds that twitter in the trees
The pleas from fleas on fur bent knees

White splash of Berezniki sun
Creeps through the clouds shone down on tenement
Relaxing in a café set
Upon the banks of Kama River
She carefully cuts her BLT
While I sit slowly sipping coffee
The lack of central thought reminds me
Of a spoken line from Chekov

Upon his deathbed drank champagne
Then sat abrupt and declared “Ich sterbe”
“I am dying” can’t you see?
Deliberating aimlessly
Her touch caressed my silhouette
A touch I will not soon forget
Solar embrace on the wall of brick building
Young hearts wild with passion in provisional swing

How long can I go on existing like this?
No worries, no cares, none considerations
Basking in grace and her ravenous beauty
Disappear in Perm Krai on the lam like Wel Kees
Under brisk skies blow the blankets of grey
I keep thinking I can’t maintain living this way
Watch these mice on parade, see them tarry to/fro
She presents me with questions to answers she knows

A suffering animal that cannot be still
We stroll through botanical gardens at will
These pigeons, what queer birds! How awkward they run!
Fighting ever so fiercely over a stale hot dog bun
A rugby game scrum of mechanical fowl
Heads bobbing peck frenzied bumping bird brains endowed
Eyes that ne’er move as they jockey, who won?
Certainly not this poor crumb that was once a full bun!

Cross the pond London burns, Paris steams on grand dreams
Washed upon Holland’s shore breaks the Führer’s lost war
In Gammeltorv, there completely unaware
I could swear that these cares have appeared from nowhere
A moment or so more or less long ago
The true anarchist holds to social overthrow
Libertarian socialism (shhh, keep your voice low)
Comes and goes, it just shows what we want we don't know

Bend no more to the fist, give the king’s ring a kiss
As the eyes of madness slowly rise from the midst
Escape northward to Russia and the red setting sun
Recall fond the ideals of Bolshevik Revolution
Moscow/Petrograd workers strike together as one
Seek in earnest to retrace the steps of V. Lenin
Taking cues from his pamphlet ‘What Is To Be Done?’
“I am not your brother, I am not your son, when I'm no one it's then I become everyone.”