when i start by name br perhaps in a flap of fault br exculpate my soul br for maximum rectitude br is the true fill of my heart br glory to the sons of Russia br Kudos to you all and your foremen; br Nikolai Gogol the master in the dead souls br Alexander Pushkin the effeminate poet br Vladimir Lenin who knew what was doable br Alexander sholenestysn the Siberian jail bird br who was on the poetic phone by five br Feodor Dostoyevsky the epileptic Karamazov br Maxim Gorky and Antony Chenkoy leave them alone br Ayn Rand the woman who shrug the atlas for we the living br Vladimir Nabokov the school master who asked for sex br from her student the adourous Lolita br Boris Pasternak the Muzhik like Leo Tolstoy br who wanted land beyond the horizon br for doctor Zhivago the sexy peasant br or Vladimir Makayavosky who slapped the public br in the face of their capitalistic taste, br Glorified be you all you sons of Russia br your Muse is beautiful and erotically crazy br glory for your humour and your finer threads br with which you have woven for me my poems of dystopia br glory be to you all in the stark oblivion br of Leon Trotsky and his penman Leonid Brezhnevbr br alexander opichobr br