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A Rock

CEE

    It’s strange, having written so much “Hitler” material. Hitler, or Hitler-related. WW2, Greatest Gen triumphs, the darkness inherent in Man. Loose lips, all that. I’ve written roughly 1500 poems. Over 500 of them, have seen print (or cyber equivalent). Amazing, how much has a shoepolish-caste to it. Even poems about random, human pain.
    My first comprehensive work in this matter, Und ihr Habt Doch Gesiegt (You Have Finally Won), continues to do well after 2 years on the market. I commented on this to a friend, who lit up and said, “Oh, yeah! Hitler sells!” Of course, as a poet, I’d hope he also makes a point, but as with Christ or Lincoln, I suppose the point is whatever you wish. For myself, I see a lot of selfdeification in any demagogue or dictator, and being a narcissist—one who insists we are, all of us, narcissists—I find the semidivine detachment factor, absorbing. When I write about anything using AH or his NSDAP as a springboard, it’s amazing, the dehumanization that automatically sets in. As if clangalang marching bands are windup toys. All of humanity. Marionettes and kewpies, who are just kind of “there”.
    I refuse to believe no one else thinks these things; my humble, it’s probably what keeps egos intact. And my poetry, really, even the “Cheeky Checker” twists of one-liners, is me telling others they are no better than Adolf—no better, because we as a species aren’t much beyond the Neanderthal imagery of Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke’s. Ultimately, we’re a swirl ice cream of Personal and Possessive. I would call that “Self”. And I would suspect that Self to be rife with machinations. The only difference between you, me, our neighbor and Hitler, is that our strutting Self, our dim or petty connivances, our dismissing or depersonalizing for penny ante reasons or for but a day or two, are a pale shadow of those who achieve the ultimate goals of the semidivine on a really broad scale...so, we’re back to God being a Blue Meanie, aren’t we, because We as God, inevitably are filled with harm. Most of us, the vast majority of us, are simply down at a lower level, a kid brother or sister to Hitler. A short pants runt no more lordly in our damaging, than the Katzenjammer Kids. Runny-nosed brats more mouth than bayonet. We’re still pretty cruel, nonfriend. And we’re oh-so-skilled at rationalizing it.
    I took the best of my remains of castles and jackboots, anything I thought might benefit and I’ve compiled it, a kind of “command performance” of Nazism. But, don’t think of it that way. Think of it as the dance of a spoiled brat who couldn’t begin to conquer the world. A lead spitball, instead of a bullet. A Teutonic howl of “Me, too!”
    I am “Gunther”. Someone’s child. I can beat up your honor student.

CEE    in homeroom, Columbine High School, April 20^th, 1999

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