EC707 This is a
REENTRY of re-editeda
EC664 [Latvian
version: “LIECINIEKS (Citas vēstures stāstam)”]s
The Life Review of Robin Ludd/ A Family Epic
By © Anton Vendamencsh,
2017
6 With Wishing Wand in Hand
Civilization
Is a game of rape
Introduced by
City-zen Clints
Eastwoods
Playing Gods
Teaching
Boys and girls cry:
”Bang! Bang! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJulx2Zg_oU
Make my day!”.
A son of
The hooligans
Stole my trust
And turned me
A sovereign
For life
At age eleven
In a toilet
Of the Gdansk
Maritime University
Sheltering
Peasant populists
Fleeing
The City-zen led
Fashist cum Bolshevik
Bloodbaths
A lasting image
Of which
For the poet
Remains
Of dead
Horses
Drawn by cranes
From Sanka’s
deepest holds
To be thrown
Over
Its starboard
side
Into jellyfish
crowded
Gulf of Gdansk
To float
Until guts fill
With water
And make sink
In sight of
Once amber mines
Of Old Prussian kings
The crippled Gods
The Krihvi*
Of herder (pa-gan)
Tribes**
Of the Balts
*Krihvi—by making use of Grimm’s Law regarding sound
shifts by consonants—‘krihvi’ comes to spell ‘klibie’, which is to say
‘clubfoots’ (in Latvian), who most likely were ancient men-Gods of the Balts.
We may remember that Oedipus, the famous Greek king, was a clubfoot. Jesus,
too, is said to have had a nail driven through his feet, which—following his
resurrection —would have made him appear to Mary-Magdalene, his mother, and his
disciples with a limp. Why with a limp? Because a limp was the sign by which a
man was identified as a scrifice to the Great Spirit, whereafter he became God.
In effect, the ”Great Spirit” Who ruled the aboriginal tribes is renamed ”God”.
The sacrificial ritual had ancient roots, and is exhaustively described by James
Frazer in his book ‘The Golden Bough’. All kings who succeeded the sacrifice
were deemed Divine beings. The last three Divine kings in Western civilization
were 1. Saint John the Baptist, 2. Jesus, and 3. King Louis XVI of France.
Though human sacrifice had long ceased by the time of the last, the myth aboutthe
Divinity of kings had remained alive among the common people, who confirmed
this by dipping their scarves or handkerchiefs in the blood of the king, who
was ordered to be guillotined by
Robespierre https://www.france24.com/en/20121231-rag-dipped-blood-guillotined-french-king-genuine-louis-xvi-dna-history
.
*Pagan does not , mean ‘godless’ asi s now commonly
believed, but ‘herder’. Ancient tribes earned their livelthood not as ‘hunters
gatherers’, but as ‘herders, gatherers, and gardeners’. Pagan is a word that
consists of two parts: a prefix ’pa-’, which diminihes the word ‘gan’/ herder
that follows it. It’s like turning a virgin into a whore. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BFK3DJ7Kn6s
.
Along the shores
Of now
Putrid
Become
Baltic.
The first Krihv
Who tried to save
His tribe
From the flood
Of Germanized
Jellyfish
Sucking the skin off
Decaying sacrifice
Sacrificed a sow
And threw
It
Into the sea
Which act
He hoped
Would scare off
Double dicked
Polish Pans.
The Krihv
Scared off
The baptized pricks
But once.
By my day
The pricks had
become
German sailors
Sporting automatic rifles
With which they strafed
The ribs and bellies
Of dead horses
with bullet thuds
That opened holes
And let go
Air and spirit.
Those were days
Also
Of my introduction
To the itch
of skin
Known as Sex
My little prick
Was itched
By the hand
Of an older boy
(War forgives
him
His license)
And pulled
To a land
unknown.
In Weimar
I entered the milk shop
With raised arm
Heiling Hitler
And watched
The city’s
Theatre burn
Flames bursting
Through
Its arched windows
While
A man
From a Buchenwald
Clearing tubble
Fell before me
On his knees
And begged for
A bread bun
He had spotted
In my shopping basket
Indoctrinated by
Our hosts
I refused him.
Mother
Fucked me again
And made love
To a Luftwaffe Officer
From Muenchen
Come to visit
His parents
Who carried
The sign of the wheel
Of the counterclock Sun
Yet took no offense
By the Jewish sounding
surname
Nor asked
Whether I was circumcized.
I already knew
How to make a drill
Of my hand
And piss
Into a pile of sand
In the attick
(Put there
To douse the flames
In case
A phosphorus bomb
Fell through the roof).
Hans accompanied
us
The night
The bombs fell
On Luther’s
Ehrfurt
As we watched
Dresden burn
Rose red
Hans
Sitting next to
me
Pleasured
Mother’s
crotch.
All that was
Sodered
By angst
Into a clump
Of rusted iron
nails
To remind me
That
Was du ererbt (hast)
Wolst du besitzen
Far
into
The
future
And like rust
Beyond removing
Make recall
What kill
I, too,
Had allowed be done
When (age nine):
I offered seeds
To sparrows
In the rose
bush
To come feed
On the trigger
Of a rat trap
I watched
My ambition to
please
Do slaughter
That no one
came
To stop
Why did father
Likely dead of
A bullet
Present me
(On my 6th birthday)
With a toy rifle
Which he raised
To his shoulder
To show
How
Use it.
I know not why
As if
By someforesight
I cried out ”No!”
And did not
Take the thing from him.
But forgave
When screaming
A tantrum of prayers
Sure everyone
Was at the other end
Of the house
I bounced
All over the bed
Begging God
To stay him.
There were days
I fucked mother
With
No lesser
Tandrums
Then watched
Her face
Twist in
Incomprehending
For what reason
She had been
Fucked by her
Lack loved son
Who ran
To her side
And tried
revive her
By offering her
Sugared water
To cover up
His sin.
The benefit
Of all that
Was
I had no father
Who took me
To the whore house
Where orphaned girls
faking love
For one and all
Cried to the pimps
”Fuck me!
Fuck me hard!”
Then asked her client:
”Will you marry me?”.
War was
The horse
Between my legs
Turned to a starling
Screaming
Between the cat’s paws
”Spare me!
I have nestlings”
In the nest.
God did not come
(as you may think)
To the rescue
But continued
Over and over again
To die.
”There is no other way
You can be taught,”
He said,
”Not to fear death or
Human indiference
To cruel solutions”.
Cindy said
I was
A macho male.
Silvie said
I had
A beautiful soul
Divine Rusalka
Sings yet
It leaves me
Wondering, why
The needfire for love
Of abandoned cats
In post-Soviet Latvia
With step-families
Gone off
To England
To pluck feathers
Off dead chicken bodies
Dipped in hot water
In chicken factories
Where only Muslims
Cut the throats of
Christian raised
Chickens
The cat
Perhaps
Seeking a last minute
Reprieve from
Life gone wrong
Found in my shed
In an old shredded
Cardboard box
A torn towel
To lie and
Die on
And for
Some reason
Made me feel
Like a host
Worthy of a citation.
