RADIATION #132

MANIFESTO

Subvert City/Subhumans

And it all went quiet in the city
And the wind blew down the road
Someone cried out "Subvert"
And the people all went cold
Subvert, subvert, subvert, SUBVERT
Meanwhile back in Subvert City
Someone's writing on the wall
"Fuck the government" spray-paint hero
Someone wants the state to fall
Religious dogma crucified
Ritual slaughter, no one lied
Living standards were dying morals
A state-controlled mass suicide
The dying breed of Subvert City
Crept into the underground
The state police just left them there
Blocked the holes, and gassed them down
Ten years later they emerged
Mutated minds so full of hate
Tried again to change the system
But this time round it was too late
There was no system left to change
The people ran the entire land
The subverts became politicians
And finally got the upper hand
Meanwhile back in Subvert City
Someone's writing on the wall
"Fuck the government" spray-paint hero
But in Subvert City, it's subvert rule
Subvert, subvert, subvert, SUBVERT

Hymne à la Beauté

[...]"You contain in your eyes the sunset and the dawn;
You scatter perfumes like a stormy night;
Your kisses are a philtre, your mouth an amphora,
Which make the hero weak and the child courageous."[...]
"You walk upon corpses which you mock, O Beauty!
Of your jewels Horror is not the least charming,
And Murder, among your dearest trinkets,
Dances amorously upon your proud belly."[...]
"Whether you come from heaven or from hell, who cares,
O Beauty! Huge, fearful, ingenuous monster!
If your regard, your smile, your foot, open for me
An Infinite I love but have not ever known?"


— Charles Baudelaire

golden boys go home

brutal form

concept design:
computer brutalism
radioactive noise
fallout shelters
desperation magenta
modernist lyes
gore eudaimonia
nihilist bathroom
ufology propaganda
zombie exhibition
dream marketing
typophiliac splatter
corporate lassative

C.D.S.

could be poison

2.i.1

to er-sie

Where would I go, if I could go, who would I be, if I could be, what would I say, if I had a voice, who says this, saying it's me? Answer simply, someone answer simply. It's the same old stranger as ever, for whom alone accusative I exist, in the pit of my inexistence, of his, of ours, there's a simple answer. It's not with thinking he'll find me, but what is he to do, living and bewildered, yes, living, say what he may. Forget me, know me not, yes, that would be the wisest, none better able than he. Why this sudden affability after such desertion, it's easy to understand, that's what he says, but he doesn't understand. I'm not in his head, nowhere in his old body, and yet I'm there, for him I'm there, with him, hence all the confusion. That should have been enough for him, to have found me absent, but it's not, he wants me there, with a form and a world, like him, in spite of him, me who am everything, like him who is nothing. And when he feels me void of existence it's of his he would have me void, and vice versa, mad, mad, he's mad. The truth is he's looking for me to kill me, to have me dead like him, dead like the living. He knows all that, but it's no help his knowing it, I don't know it, I know nothing.

NEO-POST AVANT-RETRO