Saturday, November 25, 2006

"On the road to...". High times and beyond.

Good morning.

Althought it is already midday. Today, just like promissed last week, I will continue the story of The Self-Claimed Poet enclosed on the pages of his self-issued book with poems named "On the road to...". As far as the first part of it was self-depicting, the second one is rather disturbant... Why? It is not hard to guess, that even The Young Guy has gone through what our (western) culture has got to offer to young people. And what it has got to offer, then? Drinks, drugs and dame... Fuck that. Eventually, the strong will not get cought.

I will release my objection today, and show you how The Self-Claimed Poet struggled to not to get nailed into the trap of three dimensional living (existence), to be strong...

This first poem that I wanted to quote today has no title, and it talks straight about this struggle of the self-claimed poet to escape from a world, in which he is submerged since his return from Caracas, which is the world of emerging vogue for consumptionism, and even relishing with consumption of a western kind, consumption of everything, which of course in most cases affects mostly that of a lower kind.

* * * (07-02-1998)

I run away
I run away from my Morrison

He overtakes me
He overtakes cuddles lets go

And he sings
He sings “Moon of Alabama”

Look left lonely sexy mama

Eat it
Eat it
Eat and smoke
Eat and try

Ignite yourself

“..I tell you we must die…”

trans. Rafał Gadomski, 01-11-2006

And if you have had any doubts about, if american way of live affects the lifes of the citizens of newly westernized states of the old communist block in the worst way, you don't have to burden. The dissease spreads easily, along with McDonalds restaurants and shoping malls...

The second piece is something a bit more personal. It is, I guess, a picture of some mental sickness or degenaration, caused by this style of living; parting, smoking, drinking, clubbing, chaos... But today I feel that this was not only my sickness, but the social one, which of course has got to be cured, and I consider this piece very rewarding. I wouldn't remember those states of mind today, I would forget...

* * * (17-03-1998)

i revive only while i’m transforming
from fluent state into liquid
and liquid to wash and conversely
it’s too much of this
not dream
dream wakefulness
it’s to much to dimly

i revive only when i’m befalling
not myself maybe her or else neither
and conversely
very not different then yesterday
not appointed not wanted
most often inside a bus
once in tube, in state of vigil

i revive only while considering
that it’s now it’s time it came it will be
i revive like right about now
and conversely…

Trans. Rafał Gadomski, 01-11-2006

And the third tune for today is a little bit more intense, but it talks about the same problems, just seen from a different angle, from the point of view of a witness... Have you ever killed a mosquito, or a spider, a fly, whatever? Everybody kills mosquitos but, are you aware that you kill while you do this? For some people killin' a mosquito is something like checking the hour on their wrist-whatch...

* * * (19-02-1998)

i’ve waited for the bus today
i’ve waited…
i’ve waited…
and i came by at least
they arrived two at the time
they will go different routes, but they will stop were they are supposed to
in the place where i’m living
i don’t mind…
i don’t mind…
i have taken place
i see, a gnat flutters somnolent
at this season he is a spinaker
the mob gathered round
why does he fly so slow? maybe he is drunk?
(yes, he was drunk a little)
is he drunk? maybe a junkie?
(yes, he was bit stoned)
and bechanced the execution
bang death
five rifles on one soldier have become
what has been done?
what has been done?
it has resorbed and that’s what has been done
it’s become

just maybe
just maybe
just maybe he was herold of the fall
whispered the innocence
in fine it’s the end of february
no…likely a drunkard
no…likely a junkie

laugh though o laughers
the spring will come anyway
and fulfill its obligation
will increase the rats
will increase the cocroaches
will increase the mosquitos
will increase the expectance
laugh though o laughers

trans. Rafał Gadomski, 02-10-2006

Well, was I the witness, or maybe it was me, the mosquito? I still bethink this one today...

And the last one for today, is something which goes beyond that chaos. I think that, for this collection it is a kind of a road sign... It has no date, suprisingly, and it was the penultimate piece in the album.

* * *

I’m coming back to home
Where the sky is navy blue
And the grass dulls during spring
The oranges grow at the Christmas tree
And they astride with the orange all the other sweets
Where every television set is in colour
And the songs are sculptured in the vinyl
Like the smile of Beethoven to the dimension of rustle
Wind is singing the moods
And the sun delights at autumn the pastel coloured leafs
Every wander is
The wood
The wall of Citadel
Or a wondering puppy
Where our settlement is round and it rotates around the sun
And all around it rotate the galaxies
Where candies sweeten
And the sea is salty and it licks our heels
Where I am a sphere
And where we are all rotating round the Sunday dining table

Trans. Rafał Gadomski, 03-11-2006

And that is how this chapter of the story is closing. The self-claimed poet finally is on the road... He have set, left his friends, and beauty quenns from his area, empacked his papers and gone. Where will his road lead to? Hell? Home? Maybe some other area? Who knows...

I will be back next week, but this time I want to tell you a different story... See you next saturday then... Bye.


For continuation see:

"Dreams and Expactance". Another chapter.

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