In the cold spring night, I'm
going through the third pot of coffee,
listening to English chamber music,
from that mythical long Edwardian
summer, before all the well-mannered,
well-dressed men wandering in the
summer fields decided to have a
machine-gun shower. Painted with
soot and filthy were the Englishmen's
slums under the tall factory chimneys,
when lords in their hats, canes in
their hands, and their ladies in
their long skirts tiptoed their way
through flower-covered meadows.
This is propaganda, this bourgeois
musical realism, as much as
Stalin and Mao with smiling
children in colourful posters.
These endless days of sunshine
and long, soft shadows, and
the well-tailored suits walking
around bags of flesh and bone,
this is high art, Art with a capital
letter, fancy Potemkin facades,
fair to listen, and full of lies.
26.-27.04.2023
#Runo #Runoja #Runot #Runous #Runoutta
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