Newsgroup: it.arti.poesia
Titolo: Il tempo di chi mi legge è morto

morto di fame,
specula sempre
doviziando affina
la merda presente,
che sia...

 wrote in message
QVmr4.13122$317.1...@news.infostrada.it...
[cut]
Hai scritto quattro schifezze. Spero te ne renda conto. Spero ci fosse
un intento polemico, altrimenti sei caduto in una crisi di banalità
elitaria.
Ciao,
Artod

 L.M.
:-D
Tu non sai cosa significhi essere slavo e tantomeno essere balcanico. Io
sì. Non lo sarò, ma le mie informazioni sono di prima mano. Invidia? No,
non proprio! Sono molto soddisfatto di quello che scrivo e di come vengo
apprezzato. Dem Volk das niedere, der Zeit das hoehere.
Ciao,
Artod
P.S.
Ecco un articolo apparso su soc.culture.slovenia. Di un americano in
polemica con la Slovenia tutta, a sua parere un paese di comunisti
criminali. Non ha tutti i torti, ma esagera! Comunque posta articoli
molto interessanti. Ecco. Ah, "vojvoda" vuol dire condottiero, capo,
duca.
EAST IS EAST, AND WEST IS WEST - AND THEN
 THERE ARE THE BALKANS!
The South Slav Journal, Autumn-Winter 1999
 We publish this with some hesitancy, but it does give a true flavour of
Balkan ways and passions.
In his book 100 Weeks of Blockade published in Belgrade in 1994, Moma
Kapor
notes the following:
In his Balkan Memoirs (1858-1878), Martin Djurdjevic, the chronicler and
witness of the Herzegovina risings and the Vucji Do battle, writes:
"When a
Hercegovinian rebel killed an enemy he would cut off his head and put it
in
his bag to show it to his vojvoda.  This rotting head he would carry in
his
bag for three to four days together with bread and onion and when hungry
he
would empty the bag and while eating he would look at the head and talk
to
it."
Exactly 117 years later, on June 16,1992 on a mountain above Gacko, the
Hercegovinian warriors were negotiating a cease-fire with Muslims and EU
Observers.  The Observers dressed in snow white uniforms were headed by
their spokesperson,  Mrs Pamela Jackson.
The Hercegovinians had a fortnightly growth of hair on their faces and
their
camouflage outfits were ripped and burnt.  They were sitting facing each
other at a long table loaded with documents.  Their spokesman was Vukota
K.
who spoke perfect English having come from Phoenix, Arizona, to
Hercegovina
to help his countrymen.  He had been engaged in fighting for the last
four
months.
The Hercegovinians were lodging a sharp protest to the EU Observers
claiming
that the Croat regular army was assisted by numerous mercenaries from
throughout the world, including a large number of Kurds, in particular.
Mrs Pamela Jackson simply refused to accept this claim.  There were,
simply,
no Kurds on the Hercegovinian battlefield, she stated.
"There are Kurds" asserted the Hercegovinians.
"There are none" the Muslims persisted.
"If you show me a single Kurd," said Mrs Pamela Jackson, a thirty-year
old
elegant brunette, "I will inform my superiors in Brussels straight
away."
"Do you really want to see him?"
"Yes," replied Mrs Jackson.
Vukota put his hand in the leather bag lying at his feet and produce the
chopped off head of a Kurd which he placed among the neatly arranged
documents on the table.
Mrs Jackson fainted.
Yet the West believes it has all the answers to Balkan problems!