Re, Agneses Krivades dzejolis:

ō,

svētīgi, svētīgi sasvīdušie
svētīgi uz mirkli izgājušie
svētīgi rupji graudainā struktūrā
svētīgi nesmukie un garie augumā

bļaģ

svētīgi sabrauktie, atpizģītie un nošautie
visi mana rajona krievi un Mego pārdevējas svētīgas
videonomu darbinieki un apsargi, sākumklašu skolotāji un tukšie nesēji, nabadzībā
un bagātībā un iešu par jums uz barikādēm cīnīties, sa-sodītie un ka tevi deviņi
pērkoni saspertie, baltiem diegiem šūtie
un krustām šķērsām jūs visi pārējie visā pasaulē arī

bļaģ

svētīgi


Manuprāt, ļoti labs un tāds, kas vispār kā ar ķieģeli pa pieri. Sestdien Ratinīka deva desmit dzejoļus, ko katram klausītājam sarindot kategorijās labs, slikts, patīk, nepatīk. Šis bija viens no desmit un, šķiet, arī līderis kategorijās "nepatīk" un "slikts". Mazāk bija to, kas teica, ka slikts, bet nepatika bija visai izteikta. Uz jautājumu "kāpēc tā?" izskanēja versija, ka dzejolim jāraisa patīkamas emocijas. Man tas laikam nav saprotams, un vispār es gribēju tikai atrādīt dzejoli, kas ir mans jaunais hīts kopš tās sestdienas, visu laiku skan galvā.

(2)

YOU - lost in dreams of stallions &
television violence
YOU ARE DYING in yr suburban homes
YOU ARE DYING - the 11:20 NEWS is a lie
the 7:30 news is a lie
huntley & brinkley are lies
the weather report is a cartoon
YOU ARE THE LATE MOVIE

BLOOD GUTS DEATH MURDER LAW CRASH WAR
the angel of death is not news
you failed in yr toilet training you dreamers
without identities

YOU ARE NOT JEAN HARLOW
JAMES DEANS DEATH IS NOT YRS
GARY COOPERS COOL IS NOT YRS
LIZ TAYLORS DREAM TWOT IS NOT YRS
BRIGIT BARDOT IS NOT RIMBAUD

you are sitting there
sucking it up
the friday night horror movie is really
a HAPPENING in viet nam
the prisons of Spain are packed like a tin
of sardines
you are paying for them
you are paying for the death of others
you are paying
wth yr hemorrhoids
& wet dreams… shooting up with channel 3/5/8
& it is killing you faster than shooting
methedrine crystals on the beaches of lake erie
… in between the stench of fish - young
trains of skinnylegs are coupling - maggot infested
fish…soft breast…a rat carries a piece of puke
home… hand under skirt-thunderbird cockman
(& theyre blowing Lady Jane on the western front)…
driftwood - the lightening in the void… OM MANI PAD ME HUM…
broken glass… beer courage… fires & fires & shouts from
Sandusky to ERIE… this fast dry "rocks off" lay is not
TANTRA (FUCK is not the ultimate expression of
love)…the sunrises in the east & the weekends
are not washed away - no one wears a white shirt
if they understand the tragedy of LOCKWIERD ^
smells like rotting abortions on bayonets
would you beleive it BULLETIN: the white
virgin is dead - electric chair on television…there's a
lot of chicks balling with sand in the cracks of their
asses .. dry dock…i burn incense
we share pieces of light &
i remember the skeleton of a
ship half buried in the sand
& a photograph of a nude model 1920
carefully placed under an empty
gallo wine bottle