Propaganda clashes with propaganda.
They laugh at one, they weep at another.
Content factories, channels powered by AI,
Pushing sound, images, and text against one another.
In this world, it is bad to exist—and it keeps decaying,
Just as raw materials are running out.
So the bottomless stomach of capital grows hungrier.
The stronger ones, the ones that consume more,
Want even more. They always need more.
Propaganda snarls back at propaganda.
The human world is divided into groups.
Nationalism and racism keep returning.
We still live by stupid hierarchies.
Poverty becomes an ever greater crime.
The poor grow to hate those even poorer.
Billionaires are elected as saviours.
What has already happened so many times happens again.
Corruption, nepotism and lies.
Most people become willing to kill when things turn bad.
They sign up as soldiers, as propagandists,
Out of fear, hatred, and stupidity.
Humanity lives from generation to generation.
The average person does not remember the past.
For the majority, everything feels new—
Only the present matters to them,
Even as everything repeats itself.
Old reflexes, hidden behind new masks.
Terrible faces, horrifying messages.
We are the Earth’s disappointment.
We are the Earth’s tears.
Horrible children, slowly destroying our own planet,
A creature that mercilessly exploits even its own kind,
Incapable of true inner peace.
Prosperity only grants a temporary truce.
As soon as things worsen, wars begin again.
And that so-often-praised human intellect
Dissolves into nothing amid the snarling,
As if it had never existed at all.
I am afraid of our world,
Where the imitation of peace, the pretence of calm,
Quickly turns to hatred when resources run out,
When there is not enough left to consume.
Those who preached peace will go out to loot.
And reason, understanding, open-mindedness, democracy >
Disappear—as if they had never existed.
Flesh-monsters march one after another,
Trampling over scapegoats’ backs,
Once again, folding a blood-soaked page
Onto illusions masquerading as reason and freedom.
I want nothing from this world—
This unfinished Middle Ages, this money-driven circus.
If a future exists, money will not exist there.
If modernity exists, our biology must change.
If real progress exists, there is no war in it.
What is now is the past reawakened.
A sorrowful tragedy.
An unfinished Middle Ages.
I am afraid of this world.
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