shud-shee
02-06-2009, 01:24 PM
Insomnia is my omnia,
LSD – lo, pogodi!
Birds are my words,
Strings are my lungs,
Wine is my crime,
Guess who I am?
[An average, mediocre contemporary poet]
He sat at a cafe table and read Barth: the aesthete of naked narration Kundera has bored him with affected naïveté. Lines pleasantly responded in the digestive department of brain, laying down hot drops on the slopes of ‘chuvstvilishe’ (that is, sensual apparatus). What else do you need? A dinner for 5 … in street cafe, a tasty book, nobody stirs. You feel like Sartre with a cup of coffee or Ehrenburg at a railway station. Idyll within the limits of a break at university. Boundless freedom concentrated in 20 minutes. And further – the end and the studies, teachers and still-lives. Utter darkness in a gleam of black curtains of a cinema hall. And Buñuel, thoroughly explained and “chewed” shot by shot. Edgar Poe, deprived of bizarrerie, correctly read and explained. Glasses, faces, flasks, rolls, bowls, parentheses, pleonasms, alliterations, Sappho and the Alexandria verse, Milton and Shakespeare, can I write off and I have understood nothing, silence, I say. Reserve patience, speak politely, autrement – condemning looks. Who is smarter than you? Who can play more con amore Liszt’s Liebestraume, who can more avec chaleur recite Byron, who can more cunningly compose a satire in the spirit of Sasha Cherny and who understands Proust more profoundly? In Academy you are the first, but be not enticed by a delusion, among juniors there are multitudes of talents. Supervise and look out, do not miss. The CV is ready. Composed about Erasmus Roterodamus when he was writing «Moriæ-Encomium, sive Stultitiæ Laus». Dzyn-n is a call. Eh, already! Irreconcilably soon, and comes, comes to you. The truth and prose of years of das Lernen. Behind bushes there is a small group briskly exchanging words. Our hero passes by and hears the whisper addressed “himwards”. Someone has told “UNPERSON”. It means – duel. Interesting. It is necessary to specify. Blue-eyed courtesy in the stretched glove pales into insignificance, the malicious gleam amplifies, and - boom – I am dissatisfied, you has not honor the QUEUE, now – the SHAME, or - HONOUR. Appoint. That will be. Not so important. All over. Postylo (that is, everything is unimportant).
LSD – lo, pogodi!
Birds are my words,
Strings are my lungs,
Wine is my crime,
Guess who I am?
[An average, mediocre contemporary poet]
He sat at a cafe table and read Barth: the aesthete of naked narration Kundera has bored him with affected naïveté. Lines pleasantly responded in the digestive department of brain, laying down hot drops on the slopes of ‘chuvstvilishe’ (that is, sensual apparatus). What else do you need? A dinner for 5 … in street cafe, a tasty book, nobody stirs. You feel like Sartre with a cup of coffee or Ehrenburg at a railway station. Idyll within the limits of a break at university. Boundless freedom concentrated in 20 minutes. And further – the end and the studies, teachers and still-lives. Utter darkness in a gleam of black curtains of a cinema hall. And Buñuel, thoroughly explained and “chewed” shot by shot. Edgar Poe, deprived of bizarrerie, correctly read and explained. Glasses, faces, flasks, rolls, bowls, parentheses, pleonasms, alliterations, Sappho and the Alexandria verse, Milton and Shakespeare, can I write off and I have understood nothing, silence, I say. Reserve patience, speak politely, autrement – condemning looks. Who is smarter than you? Who can play more con amore Liszt’s Liebestraume, who can more avec chaleur recite Byron, who can more cunningly compose a satire in the spirit of Sasha Cherny and who understands Proust more profoundly? In Academy you are the first, but be not enticed by a delusion, among juniors there are multitudes of talents. Supervise and look out, do not miss. The CV is ready. Composed about Erasmus Roterodamus when he was writing «Moriæ-Encomium, sive Stultitiæ Laus». Dzyn-n is a call. Eh, already! Irreconcilably soon, and comes, comes to you. The truth and prose of years of das Lernen. Behind bushes there is a small group briskly exchanging words. Our hero passes by and hears the whisper addressed “himwards”. Someone has told “UNPERSON”. It means – duel. Interesting. It is necessary to specify. Blue-eyed courtesy in the stretched glove pales into insignificance, the malicious gleam amplifies, and - boom – I am dissatisfied, you has not honor the QUEUE, now – the SHAME, or - HONOUR. Appoint. That will be. Not so important. All over. Postylo (that is, everything is unimportant).