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  • NOBLE POETRY  

  • WORLD PICTURE

     


    There is no word, no morality, in this flatly sneaking Age, which, with a Christianly pure reason-understanding, would exhort the fallible to right actions! Hearts are harnessed and strangled by venal interest, and merit still cheaper - like a strange slimy bribe, leads to wretched wretchedness! Where can we find here what we can call human in ourselves?!

    The deceptive pack-spirit stalks and stomps, trampling over one another, trampling over others, and is only good for manipulating one or two little kings who sit lightly on thrones, and whose hearts are only for profiteering thievery. Is this what man has become?! As a free-thinking, seldom-thinking, and thrifty in his wits, earthly character? I experience daily how devious wickedness is produced, and now he only really dazzles himself for the sake of easy official positions: only the advancement of selfish ambition is the winner!

    And He needs all this cheaply won ostentatious power, all this alamusian underhandedness, otherwise how can the congregations of James the Plasterer get ahead without any school qualifications, by storming other heights. And already the blind, profiteering shapeshifters are snarling, and wild Indian packs of surging masses of men are surging undeservedly. And this degenerate mob of the underworld, crying and snarling, raises its voice again in a raucous roar: Employment and health - and why?! Breadwinner for all, and not a cheap, proclaimed slogan, may empathy-tolerance remain lost!

    Even with the blinded, demented minds they stir up the swinging smear: oligarchs with feedable doctrines, and meanwhile a small people like the ever discontented volcano is constantly bubbling and in storms of prepared horror is paroling with boiling gunpowder, making soul-cannons and fuses! Like a multitude of millions of ants, man and crowd swarms, and he who would speak as one - fear no longer to be disturbed: mass-produced man can seldom touch the guardians! Only the wild howling, the apocalyptic music-bona must ever more be the sound of the bone-crushing!

     

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