Diatribe II.
The Millennium is upon us to shred the carcasses of the
Unwashed and Forgotten
To neutralize the Working Class
To eradicate the Left Wing of Every Thing, once and for all!
Where to “Question Authority”
Invokes laughter and There-you-go-again’s!
Throw your chicken grenades, Eggs of Changes, HA!
Half the word starves every day and you throw food at Despots and
Kings!
The only thing more pathetic is our Studios,
And the empty pantries within them!
Art signifies Nothing . . . As long as the Dead stay Dead!
Day of the Dead, Week of the Dead, Month of the Dead, Year of the
DEAD!
CENTURY OF THE DEAD!
We Surrealists know how this sorry chapter on Mankind will end!
We react with Nausea of Sartre to the vile tumors of the State
And its Date Rape Mentality!
Yes!
A Holy War of Small Men;
Jihad of the Junkies!
Legends within their own minds!
Swimming in the piss of their own self-fulfilling prophecies!
The irony being they learned it from US!
The armed struggle wet-dream left the 70s high and dry,
The 80s became a wasteland of pious slogans,
Empty cadres and Lost causes,
The 90s fed on itself
Chewed up its young and spit them out.
Art is Nothing
In the face of such Wrath,
And the Revolution? What in the Hell was that?
The premature ejaculators, more early than late
Got the last laugh, at the Millennium’s Gate.
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