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MAY 1, 1931 BERLIN, GERMANY
Communist Pa/fy
My fragrant ﬂower
Communist Pa/ty
My beloved
My fragrant ﬂower
Communist Party
My beloved
My fragrant ﬂower
All the people
All the people follow you
All the people
My beloved party
All the people follow you
All the people
My beloved party
All the people follow you
MAY 1, 1971 BELGRADE, YUGOSLAVIA
When you was nothin’ but a beautician’s apprentice,
you let me pluck roses in your garden.
But now that you’ve passed a party course...
you snub your intimate proletarian friends!
That’s a slanderous lie, you irresponsible element!
You are a revolting remnant
of our glorious past, Comrade Radmilovic!
There is no God!
There is no state, and the people are about finished!
Control yourself, comrade!
There’s no going back!
— Stop, you fat Mercedes! — You know whose this is, jerk?
You stay out of it!
Down with the Red bourgeoisie!
Steak Esterhazy! Mitsuko perfume!
Marx Factor!
Our position as women is still unresolved!
Radmilovic —
there’s a living specimen of proletarian decadence.
That is my tragedy.
I am a hopeless female.
l’ve drained my bitter cup to the dregs.
I’ll never let any man trample me ever again!
Oh, I see we have company.
lt’s Comrade Ljuba. He came for a little rest.
He didn’t even finish his tea.
Ever ready, our military!
Ah, the People’s Army!
My one’s gonna pop like a gun!
My two is a bolt from the blue!
THE COMMUNIST
“How Karl Marx Fell in Love"
The military hasn’t been laid in six months!
Communism without free love is a wake in a graveyard.
Screw you all!
Down with the Red bourgeoisie!
Attacking a fellow worker!
Workers of the world —
I know why he erected that wonderful barricade.
It’s because I won’t allow him any further intimacies.
Will you be long?
We just got started.
Your roommate is having sex again.
lt’s disgraceful!
Mind your own business!
With their rumps right in my eye?
What’s it to you?
Our youth shouldn’t exhaust itself!
Freedom and love are inexhaustible, madam!
Your love is nothing but an athletic contest.
lt’s carnal love. Abstinence is unhealthy, inhuman,
and what’s worse, counterrevolutionary!
To me it’s just a fuck fest!
Onward, People’s Soldiers!
Sex writers foolishly debate which are better:
short thick ones or long thin ones.
I say it’s a false dilemma.
You can’t trust the media.
Joy is what counts.
A joyful one is best.
Any child must know what’s sweetest: the crotch!
Our road to the future
must be life—positive.
Comrades!
Between socialism and physical love there can be no conflict.
Socialism must not exclude human pleasure from its program.
The October Revolution was ruined when it rejected free love.
War of liberation!
Frustrate the young sexually
and they’ll recklessly take to other illicit thrills:
pilfering, burglary and assorted crimes,
knifings, alcoholism, political riots with flags flying,
battling the police like prewar communists!
What we need is free youth in a crime—free world!
If we are to achieve this, we must allow
free love!
Maria! Give it to me!
In our democracy,
everyone is entitled to a doughnut. Some get the doughnut.
Others get the hole in the doughnut.
Shut up!
It would seem...
that the main problem is the hole.
There’s your class—structured society.
Males stop being men and turn into common swine!
So we’re all idiots?
Yes!
ldiocy is the right word for your condition.
You’re resigned to your social and sexual misery!
l’ll stuff my idiot into you!
You beasts! You screw drunken whores in toilets!
You’re underpaid!
Your wives and children have no respect for you fuckless fools!
You’ve taught your children that sex play will rot their spines!
She’s right!
And you’d know it if you read the pamphlet,
“Why Serbian Children Waste Away.”
No excitement can ever equal the elemental force of the orgasm.
That’s why politics attracts those among us whose orgasm
is substandard, defective,
disturbed or premature.
Ejaculatio praecoX/
Shame on you! That’s your problem.
Real men know how to live their lives
without asking anyone’s permission.
Sweet oblivion is the masses’ demand!
Deprive them of free love, and they’ll seize everything else!
That led to revolution. It led to fascism and doomsday.
How Man Became a Giant Deutsohland uber al/es/
The goose—stepping, mass—marching orgasm!
The bloodstream orgasm of the alcoholic or junkie!
The cerebral orgasm of dogmatists or religious mystics!
The muscular orgasm of compulsive workers, athletes and artists!
Deprive youth of their right to the sweet electricity of sex
and you rob them of their mental health!
Children and youth are entitled
to the happiness of the genital embrace!
Back to our own, our true human nature!
Restore to every individual the right
to love!
Freedom for the individual is freedom for all!
Without love life isn’t worth a thing
Without lo ve
Life isn’t worth a thing
Nobody knows 0h, nobody knows
What tomorrow may bring
Life without fucking
lsn’t worth a thing
They claimed
that after the working class had overthrown the bourgeois system,
it would be incapable of creating anything new.
But we have demonstrated our ability
not only to destroy the old order,
but to build in its place a new socialist order.
Under the sacred banner
of our great Lenin,
we will faithfully carry out
every directive he bequeathed to us.
THE MOSCOW ICE FOLLIES VISIT BELGRADE
We thank our party
Our glorious party
For bringing happiness to every home
Wonderful.
Socialist art.
Gorgeous czarist costumes.
They’re so healthy and handsome.
We’re artillerymen.
l’m Ljuba the Cock. l mount guard by day and girls by night.
Overnight pass every Saturday.
Trade places.
My three is a spree! My four likes to score!
l’m epileptic. Certified.
We’re bisexual.
My five takes a dive! My six knows all the tricks!
Vladimir llyich.
Consider yourself protected by the Yugoslav People’s Army.
But who’ll protect me from you?
You’re so fuckable!
That’s what they all say.
Spas/bo/
Thank you, comrade artist!
As a souvenir, please.
I am Milena.
You are a great artist.
Mine is a great country.
We have very many talented people.
In your dancing I found much work, love and science.
But it’s all so erotic!
My seven goes to heaven.
My eight never comes late.
Never?
Want to try?
What you said before — were you teasing me?
Oh, no.
God forbid.
More company!
This time we have a champion
figure—skating artist.
He holds the rank of People’s Artist.
Being best in his sport, naturally he’s a communist.
l’m her roommate, Jagoda.
Delighted. Vladimir llyich.
Are you a real Russian?
Or maybe a Jew?
Or some Lithuanian or other?
A Jew — and Lithuanian besides? Oh, no.
To us nationality means nothing. Only work and achievement count.
My title is People’s Artist.
I’m a socialist artist and champion ice—skater.
I am — We are proud of our achievements.
Wow!
Your coat, comrade.
You’re an artist,
a People’s Artist!
A socialist champion ice—skater who can really toe the line.
The sporting type.
My greatest triumphs were at La Scala in Milan
and Madison Square Garden.
Listen.
That West of theirs is highly overrated.
True, they’ve achieved marvels in production.
They have their wonderful American dream.
But no personal happiness.
How is that doing in your country?
Why, between our personal happiness
and that of our country and people...
there is no difference.
We abolished the difference.
We Yugoslavians make a distinction.
We hardly know what personal happiness is,
never mind the people’s or the country’s.
We Russians do respect your efforts
to find your own way.
You’re a proud and independent people.
But we are confident
that you will learn from your own experience
that our way is best.
Time will tell who’ll win out.
“Your closest kin will do you in.”
Excuse me.
That is a photo montage, isn’t it?
No, it’s authentic.
It was photographed by the Nazi Hugo Jaeger in 1939.
There was
a fluid in the air, Jaeger said.
And then something monstrous began to happen.
Thousands of men and women
suddenly started trembling...
and weeping.
He simply...
sat there...
and looked at them.
I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.
Why do you keep...
this hideous photograph?
Look at those women.
Those stupid cows, those slaves!
They love, honor and obey authority.
They endow authority with the primordial power
of sex.
Thanks to them,
this inhuman,
this bestial force can be made to seem...
humane.
With their blind allegiance,
their irrationality,
women espouse
every ideological delusion on earth.
I admire your passion but consider it unwarranted.
After all, we’re communists.
Who are you really?
What tasks do our youth associations have?
We call ourselves communists.
Why? What is a communist?
“Communist” is a Latin word.
The eye and mind of every communist
must be keen as a scalpel,
his every word sharp as a saber
or ice skate,
his every action precise as a razor cut.
“Communist” implies “communal.”
A communist society means
that everything is in common —
the land, factories, labor.
Will you have some cookies?
Everything is in common.
There!
That’s communism!
His name is World Revolution. He died in a US jail,
convinced that Moscow agents had put him there.
How can you say such things so lightly?
What I wonder is whether they were the same people
who went to Mexico and drove a pickax into the skull
of Trotsky, comrade—in—arms of Lenin and Stalin.
A man has to be sure of something.
Yes. For example, who one’s father is,
or who the people are who rule over us.
I’m a romantic.
I claim there’s no real revolution without free love.
I understand.
Kollontai’s theory: The revolution must destroy marriage.
Yes, bourgeois marriage
is nothing but licensed prostitution.
Radmilovic! You drunken pig!
Let go!
Get out!
No trespassing allowed!
Beat it!
He teaches that every nice person
like you and me hides behind his facade
a great explosive charge,
a great reservoir of energy
that can be released only by war or revolution.
ln me? Me too?
Love and crime. Give me some.
l’m charmed by your enthusiasm,
so excuse me if I’m a bit ironic,
but doesn’t your —
I mean, his theory —
turn Trotsky’s concept of permanent revolution
into one — God forbid! — of permanent orgasm?
Here comes veteran shock worker Radmilovic!
My apologetics!
Vladimir llyich.
You have company?
Oh! Calcutta!
Freedom to the people!
Radmilovic, l’ll murder you!
What are you doing?
Free the People’s Artist!
Screw the People’s Artist!
What are you doing?
He’s a champion and a communist!
I want to screw you.
Is that singular or plural?
Coming back from work
With our faces all ag/ow
77to’s shock workers
Death to male fascism!
Freedom to female people!
It is utter nonsense
to talk about a free people’s state.
For a time, the proletariat needs the state,
not in the interest of freedom, but in order to subdue its enemies.
And when it has become possible
to really speak of freedom,
the state as such will have ceased to exist.
You know, I’ve been to the East, and I’ve been to the West,
but it was never this...
wonderful!
Granny!
It’s Stalin!
Comrades, we have successfully completed the first stage of communism.
We thank the party
Our glorious party
For bringing happiness
To every home
We thank the party
Our glorious party
For bringing happiness
To every home
| live for my art.
A man can’t fritter his life away aimlessly.
He must be committed and aim at a single target, like a spear,
shoot at it like an arrow.
Watch out!
My work demands all of me.
One can’t live halfway.
To die for love is dishonorable, selfish,
bourgeois.
lt’s brutishly zoological.
I like being here.
I confess that there’s much I don’t understand,
but your people are wonderful.
Including the women?
That man slammed his head through a wall for you.
I couldn’t care less.
The air is as fresh as music.
Nothing is lovelier than the Appassionata.
I could listen to it all day.
Marvelous, superhuman music.
With perhaps naive pride, I think,
“What wonders men can create!”
But I can’t listen to music. It gets on my nerves!
lt arouses a yearning in me to babble sweet nothings,
to caress people living in this hell who can still create such beauty.
But nowadays,
if you stroke anybody’s head, he’ll bite your hand off!
Now you have to hit them on the head.
Hit them on the head mercilessly,
though in principle we oppose all violence!
TO LENIN
Workers and peasants the world over
are determined to protect the Soviet Republic
as an arrow loosed by the sure hand
of Comrade Lenin
toward the camp of the enemy.
Forgive me.
You love all mankind,
yet you’re incapable of loving one individual,
one single living creature.
What is this love that makes you nearly knock my head off?
You said I was as lovely as the revolution.
But you couldn’t bear the “Revolution” touching you!
What’s a baby to a male?
A matter of a second! Everything else is the woman’s job!
Meanwhile, you place your body at the service of art!
Your magic, flood—lit figure serves the needs
of the masses!
A bunch of lies is what you’re serving the people and the party!
A toy balloon is what it is — not a revolution!
A petty human lie dressed up
as a great historical truth!
Are you capable, you rotten louse,
of serving the needs of the species
by taking the one basic position
for an ecstatic flight to the target
like an arrow
or a vigorously hurled
spear?
Communist Party
Sacred is your hand
Communist Party, my beloved
Sacred is your hand
Communist Party, my beloved
Sacred is your hand
What’s in the hopper today?
This was 200 yards upstream from where the body was found.
Cute kid.
Such a pretty head.
Chopped off by something very sharp — an ax or cleaver.
The blow must have been very severe.
For this pretty head to lose its neck required a strong stroke.
Her vagina contained a huge amount of sperm — three or four times the usual.
Any clues at the scene?
Could it have been group sex?
Based on the evidence,
I doubt she was gang—banged or even raped.
It was more likely a wild night of love.
No sign of a struggle.
Therefore she received the semen willingly.
Better check with mental hospitals
in case some sex—starved patient has escaped.
Was the murder weapon found?
Yes, these nickel—plated Champions.
They’re the finest made.
Cosmic rays
streamed through our coupled bodies.
We pulsated to the vibrations of the universe.
But he couldn’t bear it.
He had to go one step further.
Vladimir is a man of noble impetuousness...
a man of great ambition...
and immense energy.
He’s romantic,
ascetic,
a genuine Red Fascist.
Comrades...
even now I’m not ashamed of my communist past.
Before the Earth stops turning
Before the lights grow dim
To each one, Lord, / pray thee
Grant what is needfu/ to him
To the wise one, a ready wit
To the coward, a horse, pray do
To the fortunate, some money
But remember, l’rn here too
Before the Earth stops turning
0f thy power without end
To the one in want of power
Thy appointed portion lend
To the one whose hand is open
Grant rest from charity
The gift of remorse to Cain
But also remember me
0 Lord, thou art all-kno wing
/ believe in thy wisdom then
As the fallen soldier believes
ln heaven he’s alive again
As every ear believes
Thy quiet word as true
As all men must believe
They know not what they do
0 Lord, my God
0 green-eyed one
Before the Earth stops turning
And all our pain is done
While fires still burn in the heavens
And the day yet rises anew
Grant to each some little thing
And remember, l’rn here too
Grant to each some little thing
And remember, l’rn here too