Osip Mandelstam 

                    Only in Russia is poetry respected, it gets people killed.

the Warsaw Pole died in a Russian gulag of cold and hunger in 1938  realising the prophesy he scratched on paper

he wrote Stone: 24

                     Leaves scarcely breathing /in the black breeze; /the flickering swallow/draws circles in the dusk.

In my loving/dying heart/a twilight is coming,/a last ray, gently reproaching./

And over the evening forest/the bronze moon climbs to it place./

Why has the music stopped?/

Why is there such silence?

silence



happiness depravity  can be found in the warm folds of silence

where was his drunken Irish college professor to elucidatenot that he was necessary he was a lark informative  he was his favoured client while he sold hashishbedding his skinny blonde hookup (and her dark voluptuous sister who loved givin an gettin it  a slave to her cunt)

skinny said You smell funny . . though it smells familiar.

he tried to remember to wash his face after bedding her sistertho he was reticent he liked to lick his moustacheenjoy her taste again and again  he knew all things in lifeanyones life were transitory

                                                                            an that was pronouncedexaggerated
given the pushher she dealt with

they met once

he thought he was a cunt

he wasnt gonna say No to the price per gram she gave himno fuckin way she didnt see the business end her emotions all caughtup between her legs

he hopedmebbe the cunt might suffer an unfortunate accident

shotgunned in the faceleft floating off Key Biscayne near Nixons place didnt make him unhappy Fuck It was only hash

People died over hash?

good lesson to learn

Fuck greed

Fuck capitalists

1414,  Sunday,  31  3. 19

Steppenwolf  The Pusher  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XqyGoE2Q4Y