Friday, December 20, 2013

Eso’s Chronicles 257/ Act 2
Addend 17—John Adammovich
Act 2
© Eso A.B.

Chorus (left): Once upon a time
War meant a fight for survival.
This is why the first war machine was
woman, man, and their children.
They were enclosed in a halo of Sunlight.
They practiced incest as soon as
They could feel their body ecstatic.
This made them loyal to each other beyond belief.
Ecstasy was a daily thing.
Like tickling one’s self, it is not the same thing
as when another does it for you.

Chorus (right): Then a tiger came into their midst.
Or perhaps they came to where
the beast of such fearful symmetry ruled the wood
and with aggressive delight ate
as sensate cats do
all flesh that comes their way.

At night, the beast—burning bright—tore through
the shelter walls of the bacchants
and with beastly ecstasy tore to death so many
that the voices of incest screamed with such pain
that Adam rose and
ordered the shelters of all bacchants,
meaning ‘incest makers’ then,
joined in a row on both sides of the path.
Entrances faced the street,
Backdoor were backed by a fence;
the ends of the street were blocked by gates.
Adam went and walked guard there.
Adam: The tiger feared nothing.
It came at me with fearless desire
And jumped through the air in an arc
that only my spear in its throat could stop.
It could not stop the cat from tearing from me
My chest and my heart.

Chorus: When in the morning the bacchants
found Adam dead, they sang the tiger praise
for causing Adam to make such great sacrifice,
and covered Adam with buchas
(meaning kisses in Latvian).
They did not cease their praises of him until
they had made Adam’s oldest son John their King.
and had exacted from him a promise
to be no less ecstatic in his dying.
All women made themselves available to him.

Chetseri (dream team of men):
That is when women invented handkerchiefs
for their other men. Hence their sons were named
Johns Adamnovich.

Chetseri (dream team of women):
Eve shaved off her tush,
so other men could see her slit better.
And the kingdom of John Adamnovich,
(taking the name of Jerusalem, or Nakedecstasy,
or fleeced sheep),
expanded until a hegemon,
and spared the bacchants from attacks
by leopards, tigers, and lions.

Ŗa-zhannichka: Uncle Adam, uncle Adam!
The King’s men and priests are knocking at our door.
Mothers have armed themselves with knives
and have covered their tush with hedgehog skins.

Adam: The bastards! The cowards!
Did it have to come to this?
They call their Holy Mount: Guantanamo,
where men are muted and
marines in camouflage suits
strut before their victims with carrots stuck up their arse.

Ŗa-zhannychka: Uncle Adam, uncle Adam!
Come with me. Quick!

Adam: Go tell them, dear,
We cannot fight them!
The urbanites are now like ants.
If we step on them, they will crawl up our crotches
and sting us until we wish ourselves dead.

Story Teller: So it goes. Sons born to evil urban streets are drilled straight on the parade ground by a carrot and the threat of the law. Soon other men began to envy Adam his kingdom, and we heard say that sacrifice of life is a fool’s domain. We heard that a kingdom could be had by making the bacchants feel fear. Soon sacrifice no longer was done by Adam and John, but by men taken as prisoners of war and killed before the witness of men and women invited to come enjoy the sight of a spectacle, said to be worthy of the attendance of Gods.

The Gods did not always come though. When the prisoners—said to be ecstatic—because they were forced to dance, play flutes, and ascend the high stairs of the temple to the beat of drums (three steps up, two steps down), not all could make the last seven steps to the top, but had to be assisted to the platform by prods of spears, where five priests, four seizing the victim’s arms and legs, and one making the incision below the ribcage, thrust his arm up the chest to squeeze the arteries shut, then tear the still beating heart, its arteries attched to show it to the Sun.

I have witnessed a similar scene in a travelogue video, of tribesmen, east of Lake Baikal, killing a goat for the meal of their Latvian motorist visitors: four men at each leg, the fifth doing the killing by reaching his hand up the left side of the chest to squeeze shut the arteries, then driving a wood plug into the heart to stop it from beating. I seem to recall that a spear was also thrust into the left side of the chest of Jesus after he was hung on he cross. Two women (or was it four?) stood at the foot of the cross. Such longue duree memories endure for a long time into the future—its reasons for being what it is forgot.

For another example—the author of this story does not believe that Jesus was crucified, but was cast into a pit of burning logs. The New Testament remembers this only by recalling Jesus sitting by a fire early in the morning in the high priest’s courtyard. On the other hand, the Aztecs tell the same story through the story of the lowest of their Gods (a God suffering of venereal desease) called Nanauatl (Nanauatzin), who of all the Gods was the only one who had the courage to cast himself into the pit of fire, so that the Sun, left in the sky motionless, by the speedsters of modern science, would begin to move its course.

This is difficult to say. Some will call it blasphemy. But does not the story of Nanauatzin—presuming that it reflects the story of John Basil of Bysantium--suggest that the secret that Judas whispered—and got paid thirty pieces of silver for—was that Jesus suffered from a venereal disease? The strict omission of speculation about all things sexual effecting Jesus' life makes it plausible that the secret was of an intimate nature. Is this also not the very secret that is turned against men and women who have political stature?

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