WARNING - The content of this website is protected by International Copyrights Law. Any unauthorised copying, printing, using, publishing, downloading, editing, exhibition, public performances of the texts presented here is stricly prohibited (except sharing the URL address of this website or its pages in social media only) and any such action establishes liability for civil action and may give rise to criminal prosecution.
...THE LAST DANCE OF ASSANDRA...
© CHRISTOPHER GRETKUS 2004-2012
"The Last Dance of Assandra" - a micro novel by C.Gretkus
about three the biggest human dreams: power, love and freedom...
It has three chapters: "L'Empire", "The last dance of Assandra" and "Black light"
Finished in 1999. First fragments in polish published online in 2004.
Ongoing english translation. A publisher needed.
Prologue Poetry is over You can go home I was left alone gazed in the world I created as the ultimate Lord of Events the time and space colonizer the poetry is over magic of words in progress ilussion made primeval existence I'm a voice Your internal voice from unimaginably distant world were entity and nonentity fights for supremacy beyond time beyond mind beyond matter All values are irrelevent some unknown voice imprints in Your mind ideas that You read follow and do not comprehend Yes I'm the incomprehensible interference You forsaw I'm an effluence of pure form to get the chromosoms puzzled Just listen how it sounds - humanity like a bless and a curse at the same time You belong to a race of always unsatisfied possessors and only one word is enough to make You scared to death - poor But do not be afraid dying is rebirthing now give me Your hand We will taste the forbidden fruit together Then You will comprehend the incomprehensible The Town O. Malopolska When You are a writer one can lean against a piano one can eat sandwiches with red salmon and prawns one can put a glass of tequilla next to a piece of blank paper and after a while in a dazzling daylight one can watch a still nature alive taking a breath when You are a writer Your name is de Plata the eyelid of Your laptop is never shut Assandra lets slip the black lingerie from her hand and I squeeze some juice from fresh peaches to put on paper my first word squeezed by time - the only unreal thing When You have a body one can lie in bed and interpenetrate the walls with a mistic sight It feels like divinity thoughts bursting forth to praise imagination The colours taking off The outward-bound spirit moving the fingered pen with thousands of misticly beautiful words every single night and day lack of vein depresses so hard when You are a writer You write words of eternal prayer about a glance so unusual that will never be embodied by any act of art about beauty so magnificent that only Bethlehem-man could be its creator I saw Him sit on the beach and said a word which could outdo even silence On a tuesday in the town O. Returns from stars may be at Your peril I open the last can of tuna sometimes I sleep sometimes I knock a keyboard of my piano This is how it all began The town got snowed and Assandra realised that she would never meet a woman to be a match for Her She felt like the most lonesome human being in the world like somebody who knew his destiny I saw fields of time rays of burning matter I saw a rain blackened by the dark side of the sky Who are You to desire me so badly to love me so blindly Dear God in heaven the end is near All machines will stop The Judge will sniff a crack and death will give a horrible scream Somwhere overe Africa. The shipboard of a spacecraft "Santa Maria" Imagine that the entire energy and mass of Universe is concentrated at a very little single point billions of galaxies and nebulas millions of magnificently developed civilisations Imagine the universe embeded in a superheavy grain of sand imagine Yourself holding it under Your tongue You can swollow it You can worship it You can scatter it all over the table You can duplicate it like a molecular chip My name is Bethlehem-man You can call me a space-time marchandiser Californian people are so nice to me I am what has not come will come is coming Milky way. Solar system. Blue planet - the earth Fuck me! what is this place? What a reek Who are these miesrable creatures giving me a half-wit stare - humanoids the entire Bethlehem-man's fucking menagerie Where are You? I'm right here Where did You hide You space-time knacker? I've been waiting for You 20 billions years have passed and We're meeting again I've arrived with a message of love - evil returned Now in all newspapers and on every website Oh yes - I drive a sleeky matt black ferrari as seen on a TV in this rustic cosmic ZOO called - the earth My name's Judge Re I'm a hunter of small miserable planets enormous outstandingly prosperous galaxies universes of the size of my chess-board I'm a degraded sun I'm a nuptial ritual of death I'm antitime - the imperishable jointowner of entity everything what dies must come to see me must come to see me must come to see me ( To be continued)
© CHRISTOPHER GRETKUS 2004-2012 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING The content of this website is protected by International Copyrights Law. Any unauthorised copying, printing, using, publishing, downloading, editing, exhibition, public performances of the texts presented here is stricly prohibited (except sharing the URL address of this website or its pages in social media only) and any such action establishes liability for civil action and may give rise to criminal prosecution.
