VLADIMIR MAYAKOVSKY
You, thunderer and swirl of
the flag of blood and roses,
kneader of the bread of poem,
deathless comrade of dithyramb
and liberty,
you whose suicided life
I carry as a forge,
who first strode the street
of this century,
ai, you were the first
singing through the slum of trash
and the molecules chained
to a thousand yesterdays,
wiper of the gravy of history
from the mouth of obese lies,
servant of Revolution,
you who, among men, stormed
the pallid lips of neutrality
and apathy,
not as a stud of craven doom,
not as semblable
but as a thrust and momentum
of mass and energy
announcing the towering totems
of humanity freed from the hut,
you Russian more American
than English,
you sabbath-destroyer
and leveler of trumpery
and religious double-talk,
I have plucked the bullet
so many times from your brain
I could feed a hundred
armed struggles with your dream.
–Jack Hirschman
Poetry
Poetry to rip the scab off of apathy!
[email protected]
not the brain, never the brain, the heart, Russian tradition mandates a fresh white pressed sirt and the bullet to the heart. Sad but true .. His poem Lenin in Spanish great book illustrated with block prints published by the Sandinistas in 19 85. viva Vlodya!