EC704 This is a
REENTRY of re-edited
EC671 [Latvian
version: “LIECINIEKS (Citas vēstures stāstam)”]
The Life Review of Robin Ludd/ A Family Epic
By © Anton Vendamencsh,
2017
2 The Story of Grandmother
sOnly
the Sun knows
The
day or
Whyfores
Her
forebears
Left
or
And
were sailed
Perhaps
as
Prisoners
of war
Slaves
or
Fuck
flesh
To
the north
Of
the Caspian Sea
And
the Volga delta
Where they whiled
in Astrahan
Then were took
To the far end
Of the Volga
And
portaged
To
the JaunavaDaugava
A
River that flows
To
the Baltic Sea
Through
an
Ice
scoured land
Still
rising
Out
of the sea
A
land now known
As
Latvia
To
LigaRiga
A
Viking pirates’s nestRoma
Where
they escaped
Or
were sold
As
tanners and whores
By
skinnersGermans
From
Skinnerland
To
tanners
from
the tannery
of
Rawsheep’sheadJelgava=
Jēlgalva=a
bloody head of a sheep with skin removed
Which
was
But
30 miles south
Which
is why
When
the wind
Blew
north
Riga
The
bloody Rome
Of
Estland
Stank
as only
A
poetic curse
Sent
by Kriev
The
Clubfoot priest
of
Old Prusssian Ramava,
called
Kaliningrad today,
Could
make stink.
By
pretending
To
be charcoal burners
They
broke
From
their captors
And
backtracked
Up
the CharcoalOgre River
Where
it
Intersected
the
charcoal road
To
Riga.
There
They changed
Their name
From Gorgan
To Jurjans =Yoryan/from
Iranian Yari Yan/warrior),
And hid
In a wood
As alive
With refugees
From JerseyJerusalem
As once
Birnam wood was
?Dumb and inane?.
It was here
Where wood
Makes memory
Unnecessary
They had dreams
Of blueberry blossoms
Turning into
Blueberry tulips
And of burning
Riga down to ashes.
It
was here
That
near thousand
Years
later
My
grandmother
(born
a YuriYan)
Met
her man.
My father
Born 1892
Was the second
Of five children.
After a near
Thousand near
Roundtrip
His life was concluded
On April 13, 1942
In Astrahan.
Swamp, sand
Or the waters
Of the Volga delta
Now bleach and wash
The memories and sins
Imbedded
in his YuriYan body.
His
descendants
Were
spared
Learning
about
The
murder of
His
mother,
Whom
his father
(Make-believing
himself
had
abandoned
For
a dream of
Founding
God’land
Instead
of Israel.
Alas!
Rothchild was
Far
ahead of him
And
God lost
His
bet with the Devil
Who
was prepared
To
wait generations’
To
collect his due.
Understandably,
Grandmother
MaudMade
Was
humiliated
For
having been fooled
To
birthe five children
To
no end, but
The
pleasure
Of
a fool’s cock
And
for the hope
Of
what she saw as
Some
Paradise Island
For
a Job
In
the making.
Grandmother
understood
That
God’s fool
Of
a husband
Was
outsmarting himself
By
believing God
Would
cause Intrigue Galore*
In
return
For
being rescued
From
a marriage
To
a failed actor
To
use greed to
Turn
herself
Into
God’s daughter.
Is
this why
She
is my godmother?
Faith
in Jesus
Gave
grandfather
The
courage
To
take on
A
lamb’s courage
And
play the fool.
So
much for
The
consequences
Of
repression
Of
a belief
That
fears
No
poverty or death.
Father left it
For me
To shake the sieve
And discover
In second thoughts
And the dust of debris
The unthinkable.
Who killed grandmother?
The
agent of death was
(It’s
a good guess)
Poison
made of
the
Devil’s smirk.
It
stopped
Grandmother’s
heart
And
started the beginning
Of
maiden heads
Cum
bridal veils
Became
crowns
Of
roses
For
generations
Of
flaundering
Orphans.
War
Was
blamed
For
causing
An
interesting chaos.
Indeed!
Fate
contrapted
That
Intrigue
Galore
Too
Died
a martyr’s death.
It
enabled
Her
to remain a Saint
To
those she
Benefacted.
No
murder
Was
ever discovered
Or
imagined.
No
disputing
The
Devil played his hand
Better
than
Soon
Every one was
Preoccupied
With saving themselves
From brutal
Secularization
No one had time
To think
‘Heart attack’
Could spell
‘murder’.
As
for the other question:
Did
St. Intrigue also kill
grandfather?
Possibly.
The
evidence?
Time came
Grand father wanted
To divorce Intrigue
Claiming she
Had become
Intolerable
And was
Compromising
His newspaper
By jerking off
The President of Latvia
In everyone’s
plain sight.
When godfather
Asked advice,
A Chief Justice
Of Latvia’s Supreme Court
Told him:
“You are out of luck.
It was you who
Played youtself as Faust
Married her
Made her publisher,
Sheared yourself
Of your golden fleece;
A divorce will
Shear your family, too.
It already will take
Lawyers from South Africa
And Canada(1963 see Dosier 9942)
To rescue them
From absolute poverty.”
Grandfather died
With Gretchem having put
his tail in his mouth.
It was too late
For him
To return to the wood.
It was left for
His grandson.to discover.
When
Stalin
A
descendant
The
forebears of Jan Huss
Became
the Devil’s
Claim
reciept
For
real
St.
Intrigue
Wanted
to flee
And
go live
In
her Swiss villa
And
petitioned Berlin
it
was
Grandfather’s
dream
Of
God’sland
That
likely caused Berlin
To
verily deny her.
Still, a hussy
In hard times past
She held
the keys to the vault.
When
death threats
Issued
by the na-ludd
(aka
na-rodd)
Reached
my father
By
messengers
Still
loyal to Jan Huss
He went to Intrigue’s
Office
Hat in hand
And was told:
“Get lost
I have my stepson
George
To take care off.”
But are you not
Godmother
To my son as well?
Father asked?
“Don’t
be naïve!”
The
Saint answered.
“Your
mother
Would
make me
A
well reamed woman
at
twenty-four
A
virgin for yet
Another
eighteen years
(Such
were then The divorce laws).
“It
is Creon
My
sister’s son
Who
I chose
To
endow with
My
benefice.
Creon will have.
Yours will not.
Your mother go fuck
Ghosts in the wood
May you all die
In the wood.
You have nothing
To fear,
Did not you
And your brother Karl
Bring ink to Riga
from St Petersburg
To keep the 1905
Revolution going?
Besides,
You
still have
That
piece of land
Have
you not?
Where
On
Midsummer’s Eve
Boys
go count
Count
the haystacks
With
ladders down
And
whack off
To
cries of exstasy
Up
top?”
The ridicule
Was a prophecy
To come true
When
five years later
Mother
climbed
The
ladder
And
fucked me
And
my father
For
the love
Of
a soldier.
Grandmother
Silenced
By
a murder
No
one dared imagine
Incredulous
And
caught by surprise
Sings
hymns
To
the glories
Of
the crumbs
Of
her grandson’s
Sieve
of memories.
*St. Intrigue Galore had two sisters. Both—like
herself—were ensconced in the world of theatre. Of the three sisters the Saint
had made the worst choice, but with greed and skills still full force sought to
be rescued from her ‘dead end’ actor husband. Grandfather made the sisters’
acquaintance while seeking an outlet for “Miglā”/In A Fog, a do-it-yourself
play he had written. The play argued how by giving up alcohol (a plague in
Latvia to this day), one could come to prosperity. The Saint working in the
wardrobe of Riga’s then newest theatre (founded 1902) introduced grandfather to
the powers that be.
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