képek, betűk

We drift, inside all kinds of spheres,
among grinning, laughing, incessantly chattering heads,
as if the pseudo-postmodern dream had torn itself into a thousand pieces.
Covered by a conservative, liberal, analytical, primitive blend of madness. Blah?
We have nothing to do with one another, the walls of our spheres blown from steel.
We feel no more for each other than what the compulsion of existence forces upon us.
Freezing in our corporate, institutional, political, and cultural confinements,
we convulse within our own delusions
along the lines of universal communication templates trembling with hypocrisy.

Our lies embrace us the way lovers do.
Our greed feeds us the way our mother once did from her breasts.

We see faces — in millions of meetings, we look at one another’s faces minute by minute.
Millions upon millions share their empty lives and cliches second by second,
producing data-rubbish, layering it upon one another,
again and again the same thing,
while the inner tension of emptiness burns through faces
like a failed smile.
Fleeing into our balloons, hiding behind the lies of a long-emptied faith,
We pretend we are the same as we were a hundred or a thousand years ago.
We forget how to write, to read, to count — our machines do it for us.
And to feel we no longer dare, because secretly everyone feels these things.
Secretly, inside, everyone should feel that emptiness, that mad decadence.

Behind the remaining shreds of reason, feeling beings are crying,
posing across billions of photos and videos,
like a mad giant who knows he is evil, foul-smelling, greedy and stupid,
yet still kills, lies and destroys each day.

I am afraid of ourselves, terrified every minute that this civilisation
will ultimately succeed in its destruction
and demolish everything, then collapse into its pit in a frenzy,
and vanish without a trace,
along with all its arrogance,
along with all its money, treasures, science and gods.

Not even as much of this giant will remain in the universe
as a fragment of stone.