For those of you who don’t know me, this one might be a wee bit confusing. For that matter, even the people who -do- know me might be surprised. It’s a very early work (I was in grade school, about eleven years old), but you can already see many of my perspectives on the world were forming. I’ve been an anarchist for as long as I can remember and a surrealist/absurdist for even longer. Sorry, mother… heh.
To the bastions of wealth who sponsor the art that erects the lie of meaning:
There is no meaning.
In art, in history, in people, in life.
We can only know what our minds choose to let us know.
Language is a lie, meaning is dead.
Sanity of form is a form of insanity,
and insanity of form is a form of sanity.
A menu’s as good as a myth.
Order’s just a trick that chaos plays on the foolish.
They can only know what language leads them to believe.
We’re only ‘human’ because we believe in the fiction of ‘human.’
Art is only an escalation of nonsense.
Governments are only escalations of self-deception.
God is art and Art is dead.
Death is nonsense.
And nonsense is just a lad with a silly name.
All lines are a circle,
all logic spirals back to its source,
all creation loops back to its creator.
And if you try to break the circle, all the walls fall!
The world shatters in a cloud of plaster.
The Canon of Western civilisation shoots itself.
And history comes to an end.
A lunatic says you, just because I don’t make sense?
But I’m afraid you’re missing the point-
I don’t have to make sense, I’m smarter than that!