Thursday, May 25, 2017

On the Rib of St Nicholas Translated from Catholic Bari to Orthodox Russia

We have no other hope but that somehow
In these old dressed-up men, east and west, thou
Art with us, whom such greeted in thy crib:
And that we all are still one in one rib.
The world wears on and our Fiend he doth swell,
We cry, all manner of thing shall be well.

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Crna Gora kaže orevuar

Crnoj je Gori vrlo neprijatno
To što kačite po Facebooku
Kad dođu njeni dani državnosti
I nezavisnosti i čega već
Kao ženi kad za osmi mart
Dobije ili ne dobije ništa od muža
Kao đetetu kad ga pred goste
Izvode da ga hvale roditelji
Koji ga nasamo zovu stoko, i gore
Najradije bi se povukla i pobjegla
Od tih patriotskih gadosti
Od zvona Ivanovih i siromašištva slovenskog
(Brate, to se ne govori nekom koga voliš)
Od orevuara i montenegara
Od sunaca i grahovaca
I zelene čoje i luča i munja i klanaca
(Užas) od svih tih grubih nježnosti
I ljubavnih riječi koje ponižvaju
Nešto što bi neki stari peder poput
Jovana Dučića rekao đevojci
Da laska svojoj rječitosti prije no njoj
Nešto što bi profesor ili ministar
U okašnjelom kurvarluku
Rekao saradnici na večeru uz vino
Boguhvala pa je lijepa
Dok ti govoriš te gluposti, ona planira s momkom
Koji nema fakultet ali je pošten i radi dva posla
I diže tri prsta kad popije
Da dočeka 21. maj uz narodnjake

Monday, May 8, 2017

Taxation with Rappresentation

*angry beats*
Brothers and sisters in labour you label and gender’m
And before they get to labour you rend’em and blender’m
Under striped banners like cattle gather’em and brand’em
In social contracts and constructs like in condom comprehend’em
I hate your class, and still have your fandom
Your civ marriages, careers, budgets, personalities random
Your meninism, feminism, strap-ons, maledom and femdom
Your choices, lifestyles, identities, rights, porn, can’t stand’em
Ceterum censeo classem mediam delendam
*chirpy notes*

Monday, May 1, 2017

Tocsin

Il y avait un ciel noir sur ces rues mortes, comme si un immense linceul se déployait sur cet immense tombeau.
Les misérables

Čuju se gume u duši
I šišti i pišti i duši
Gas i vije i koluta i kliza
Kao lincuo preko Pariza
Dok se Marius prikrada
Sumašedši do barikada
Trešte crkvena zvona
(Snooze, snooze) sa iPhona
Aux larmes, citoyens
Jérusalem descend

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Patriarchia ambidextra

If anyone despair over the doom of the everlasting patriarchy, over the erosion of traditional gender roles, over the decline of traditional family, over capitalism’s capacity to supply you in your late middle age with a pliant emotionally-crippled individual to soothe you after your exhausting upper-middle-class career: take comfort in the image of that beautiful young actor with his daddy-husband and their bought children. Brought to you by post-modern gender-bending cultural-Marxist Left.

Friday, April 21, 2017

A Conversation Somewhere in Purgatory, a Snippet

Atheist: Giordano, why wouldn’t the Church just let you do science?
Giordano Bruno: Ah, never mind those. Hey, do you want us to go over to the Platonic Sphere via tarot and become one with the Universe?
Atheist: We’re in Hell, Giordano.
Giordano Bruno: There is no such thing as Hell, you imbecile.

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Resurrexit

Ut turba in Urbe nacta
Quæ asino Regem vexit
(Quæ sic clamans tunc coacta
Saxa ad silendum flexit);
Ut terra quæ tremefacta
Deum mortuum aspexit;
Mane ut petra peracta
Quæ sepulchrum eius texit:
Mei cordis petra fracta
Clamat nunc: Rex resurrexit!

Saturday, April 15, 2017

The Song of the New Adam at the Harrowing of Hell

Thou hidst midst trees of Paradise,
From me who’d breathed life to thy face;
Thy boy then th’ other did deface;
I hid my face: who sees me, dies.



Thou proddedst me with pricks in th’ eye,
Spatst on me, slappèdst, cursèdst, bledst,
With vinegar me thirsting fedst,
And killèdst me, and didst not die.

*

I died, and hid me where Shade is 
Thick-thickest, in the stone-blind death;
My torn face felt thine and my breath;
Of th’ Tree we ate then in Hades.

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

The Song of the ‘Woman Who Fell in Many Sins’

Who is Identified in the Tradition of the Western Church with Mary Magdalene and Mary of Bethany, but Remembered Distinctly by the Eastern Church, on the Holy and Great Wednesday, Which is Called the Good in the West, When She Poured Myrrh and Kisses upon the Lord as upon a Bridegroom

The City I’m the sight whereof
Did make Thee tear, when as an hen
Thou spreadst Thy wings of pelican
To nourish it with bites of love,

Riding in glory upon an ass,
A most unseemly type of King,
Whom claimed mid joy and rioting
Who now from their much righteousness

Their hands stretch Thy hand to maltreat,
Wherewith likewise me curse and fond.
Thy feet wherefrom did Eve abscond
I rush to them with shameless feet,

And with whore’s oil and tears them lave;
I who had never childhood known,
Who rearèd by my heart a stone,
Now hold Thee as girl holds a babe.

My whoredom shall not do Thee harm,
This body spread to all to use
By Thee alone doth find peace Whose
Those same shall pierce by foot and palm.

Thou tak’st me without curse and snarl
Who taughtst Hosea whore to wed:
This Wednesday, for Thy marriage bed
I myrrh Thee, Husband and not Baal.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

To a Russian Priest Who Decreed that the Father Rather than the Children be Given the Finest Portion of the Meal

Thinkst thou that of his meal of toil
Did Joseph eye the larger cut
When at day’s end he sat to sup
With his Wife and their blessed Boy?

Or thinkst the Father to Whom servest
The Victim of His only Son,
Doth hunger not where His Son’s hung,
And doth not drink of His I thirst,

He Who did not spare like a churl
His first and last, his morsel best,
But cut it from His very breast
And gave it unto thee, a cur?

Pray in our Father’s mansïons,
Oh Father, we may one day sup
Of His one Bread and His one Cup,
His meal of toil, we curs with sons.

Monday, February 13, 2017

A Sonnet on the Occasion of My Godfather's Birthday, in Testimony of Undying Love

Hush, Hades; boast not thou didst much encroach
Upon the victory of our Risen Lord
That holdst me with all manner of reproach
A willing captive, in His white robe whored.
Or rather: rage and roar and curse and lash,
Bid Him that clad, the Witness bid thereto,
The very Waters: howso’er dost gnash
’Tis my unlealty doth betray me true.
Like She Who Fell in Many Sins I flaunt
My tears, this precious naught, a thing of shame:
Though I have never known but sin and want
Him I have lovèd wholly without blame.
          Thence shameless, Hades, cry I to thy teeth:
          My robe is white, and he my deathless Wreath.

Saturday, January 7, 2017

Trifolia quercus

Tres personae, Deus unus,
Tres reges et trinum munus,
Tres in una familia,
Christus, Ioseph et Maria,
Omnes igni quercus foti,
Praenuntio Novi Voti:
Fove, fave, sanctum Lignum,
Trinum quibus Crucis signum.
Serbica sunt Natalia,
Latina in Theophania.

Friday, January 6, 2017

Eromenos

Srednja klasa misli da je ljubav ugovor,
Kao jeretici odnos sa Bogom,
Kao Platonove gluposti, erastes i eromenos,
Kao, upoznamo se, vidimo kako ide,
Pa šta bude, u međuvremenu jedno drugo
Ogovaramo sa svojim društvima,
Radimo strašne stvari zajedno, i govorimo
Strašne riječi, ali to se ništa ne važi,
Nije ozbiljno, vidjećemo, što znamo,
Ako odgovaramo jedno drugom,
Dok nas najednom ne prođe, jer se vidimo
U nekom trenutku slabosti i ružnoće,
I zgadimo se sebe i svega i tog bluda
S kojim smo kao skroz OK (srednja je klasa,
Ne dajte da vas laže, nepopravljivo puritanska,)
Ne skapiramo se, nije to to, OK smo,
Tražimo nešto drugo, nismo trenutno
Za nešto ozbiljno, poštujemo izbor,
Svako na svoju stranu, nastavljamo
Svoje živote; a možda (nerijetko biva)
Jedno, prekršivši ugovor, zaljubljeno,
Ostaje izvan sebe, nema mu mjesta
Nigdje na decembarsku noć, bježi
U sebe kao u promajnu pećinu,
U neku nesnosnu sumanutu radost, među
Čudne darove, dok nadolaze krvoločne čete.

Wednesday, January 4, 2017

A Rhymed Prayer to St Nephon of Constantia

In die sancti Nephontis episcopi post dißolutam iuventutem cuiusdam civitatis Cypriacæ facti, qui multas terribiles visiones Civitatis Cælestis et venientis Iudicii habuit, unus horum maledictorum quos damnatos sanctus ibi vidit has præces, aliud non habens, versificat ad eius advocaturam obtinendam

Quæ concinit necatorum
Planctus turbæ puerorum?
Quæ in medio doctorum
Respondisti puerilia?
Quorum Maria conscia,
Et præ idola Ægyptia
Pater ducens: quæ sciebant?
Quid pastores cognoscebant,
Anna et Simon cur gaudebant
Ut, Zacharia diffiso,
Elisabeth, Christo inviso,
Cum Iohanne intus gaviso?
Et descendens indefensus
Turba angelica apprehensus
Quis Nephonti præter sensus
Metuenti apparuisti?
Ineffabile hoc est Christi
Mysterium crucifixi
Per cor, et per membra quater:
Puer est et virgo ut Mater,
Qualis Filius, talis Pater.

Qui Iudicium prævidisti,
Memor sui quam timuisti,
Memento me ad cor Enixi.

Thursday, November 24, 2016

Zigurat od smeća na Konik

Vladimiro qui me Cherub similis de somno vocavit


Na već se tri etaža uspinje
Zigurat od smeća na Konik
Rastrt sred kamene pustinje
Na putu za Han i Hotit
Velik je i puši se od smrada
I sunca i tankih pramova dima
Kadi ih vjetar put grada
Preko koničkih straćara i vila
Blistav fake proljetni dan i zima
Kruže stravična jata
I krište, i raspinju krila
I jure ko vojska manična
Vrane ko nilski ždrali otmjene
Kao faraonska kola borbene
Scena je vrlo instagrammična

* * *

Tako se i moj grijeh slaže
Pred Tobom, Gospode Savaote
Laža na laže kao etaž na etaže
Misirska kupa u Hanaan
Dođi mi, molim Te, sred sramote
Sruši mi ovaj Konik
Nasmij se na ovaj pun
I napravimo jedan samoslik

* * *

Kad budem bježao pospan
(Ili ko Lot razobručen i pjan
U nevrijeme i zli čas)
Kad Ti se budu pripravljali puti
I ravnale staze u besputi
Kad bude vikao glas:
Sve doline neka se uzvise
I sve gore i bregovi snize
The crooked straight
The crooked straight
Kad budu kao pravine
Sve Tvoje neravnine
Kad ispraviš sve bez odmazde
I sve preoreš bez brazde
I sve izmjeriš brijege na poteg
(Kako Isaija sanja)
Sred opšteg preoranja
Kad budu u jedan zbjeg
Jeđupci i Sjeme Izbrano
U togi rimskih građana
In quella Roma onde
Cristo è romano
Dok se bude rušilo sve
Dok pada zigurat
Trčaću orlujski mlad
Nit se obrnut da slikam