Saturday, April 22, 2006
Dag's Poetry Corner (Revisited.)
Anonymous (1980) 'Let's do justice to our comrade P.38', trans. R. Gardner, Semiotext(e): Italy.
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Could it be that few have read the essay above, the sparkling classic from the Brigatta Rossa, the Italian Red Brigades? But they extol the virtues of the Walther PPK, .38 calibre pistol! If Communist bureaucrats acting as terrorists could write poetry, then this would be it. In fact, it is Communist bureaucrat/terrorist poetry. It's a paean to murder machines.
In celebration of Prodi's victory in Italy these recent days, a Communist unknown for his poetry, allow me to step in on his behalf, moving from his ability to my needs. Yes, folks, it's once again that special time in that special place. It's Dag's Poetry Corner.
Prodi, amore:
Reallocate scare resources comradely.
Our collective requirements for a vast shipment of Walther PPK .38 calibre pistols
in furtherance of our revolutionary aims
Demands with the united voice of the workers and peasants
That you, petite-bourgeois lackey of reactionary state capitalism,
Fulfill your dialectical historical role, and give us the guns, bud.
Historical inevitablility demands this just redistribution of the means of assassination;
You have nowhere to run, you running dog of bourgeoise socialism:
The party's over.
What resides by no other justification than unfair rentier
In the Cranial Bowl of the petit-bourgeoise Communist intellectual
Than a glorious vision of the future
When the workers and peasants can feast on the content
Vermicelli, red sauce, and mangled meat therein?
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Folks, I know I've outdone myself in Literature's eyes this day. Some days I just outdo myself and think I'll never come up with poetry better than this again. But have faith, friends, I just keep on getting better. I can foresee a time in which I write another famous poem, one about Iranian mullahs. I get chills thinking about it.
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1 comment:
No, I am not suggesting anyone shoot people. It's poetry. I am an Artiste!
No one understands me.
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