Fiume 1.5 a short venture into Yoga

“Guido Keller told me that he had just formed a company to guard the Commander, a company that he called La Disperata (The Desperate). Many soldiers who had come from Italy to volunteer were without papers and had not been accepted by the Command. Instead of leaving they were camped out in the town’s big shipyards. When he went to see what they were doing there, Keller found some of them naked diving from the prows of the moored ships, others attempting to manoeuvre the old locomotives that used to run between Fiume and Budapest, and others perched up on cranes, singing. He found them to be high-spirited and jolly, and he gathered them for inspection: they were all proud, handsome men, and he declared that they were the finest soldiers in Fiume. He mustered these soldiers, known to all as the ‘desperados’ in view of their situation, and offered them to the Commander as personal guards. This move scandalized superior officials, but the Commander accepted the offer. With the creation of this company, Keller began to put his ideas for a new military order into practice. These new soldiers spent most of the day swimming or rowing, or singing and marching through the city, bare-chested and dressed in shorts. They were not obliged to stay in the barracks… and in the evening they frequented a deserted area called La torretta, where they split into two groups and did battle with real hand grenades, often leading to injury… The presence of a number of morally dubious elements did not sully the company’s reputation, but rather gave it the crepuscular flavor of a group despised by the wise and the mediocre, and this was its greatest source of pride.””

““…oddities like the curious war hero Guido Keller, whose mascot was an eagle, who slept naked in the tops of trees, and who was one of the new commander’s main lieutenants”

Let us speak of Giudo Keller(1892-1929), last of the Hellenics, nationalist-nudist and tantric master, Keller the air pilot who raided Zeppelins and Airplanes and dropped roses in the vatican. In 1919 the Union of Yoga was founded by Giudo Keller alongside Giovanni Comisso and Mino Somenzi they launched the “Yoga” magazine which was self published in Fiume by Keller. While the magazine’s circulation and most of its members were concentrated in Fiume it had a global outreach intellectually and through correspondences to the Berlin Dada groups, and Leninist-Bolsheviks in Russia alongside some Hungarian communists. The Union of Yoga itself was made up of many artists and poets within the city itself alongside Japanese Buddhist-Influence from Harukichi Shimoi. They also organized a “peoples academy” which hosted debates in public on free love, monetary abolition, destruction of prisons, improving the city through art etc. 

The Union of Yoga was primarily based upon the philosophy of the Männerbund taken from the German Wanderwogel movement with its anti establishment youth culture and anti urban nature culture. 

Though Giudo Keller had a passing ideological and comradely fascination with Marinetti he critiqued futurism for what he perceived as its anti human pro machine qualities. Guido Keller posited what he called a “Dionysian humanism”in contrast to Marinettis more anti human ideology. The 4th issue of the Yoga magazine contained a long critique by Keller of Marinetti’s futurism claiming that it took out the most precious part of art. That being the  human aspect of the artist. 

Though Keller disliked Futurism the Yoga circle included Futurists alongside extreme nationalists,“communists and anarchists, Bolsheviks and William Morris-like socialists, bohemians and nihilists, Nietzscheans and Rosenkreutzers, Rousseauist dreamers and Utopian Proudhonists”. These various ideologies were brought together by a shared hatred of the current system and love for diversity of thought and spontaneity.

The Union of Yoga also delved into religious topics with interest in theosophy, Freemasonry, Esoteric Forms of Yoga, Zen Buddhism and Hinduism, and Hellenism. It drew many of these types from all around Europe and helped gather funding and support for Fiume from around the world.

Two main groups formed within the Union of Yoga the first being called the “brown lotus” promoting  an agrarian race-based earth society which was strongly anti capitalist anti city and anti technology. They were obsessed with mysticism and forms of esoteric eastern philosophy. Another group formed to rival them called the “red lotus” whose motto was “Moving. Living. Destroying. They were also Italian patriots but opposed crude racism and national chauvinism. Yoga saw the various human races uniting into a single “dionysus race” that would overcome ideology and politics and create a hedonistic ubermensch.

Yoga also believed that the “negative” races like French and British had shackled the Italians with international treaties and democratic institutions and that in order to renew the Italian race they needed to embrace hedonistic aristocracy and forge a new spiritual order. From this they formulated a kind of “eugenics of karma” where your spiritual race would determine your standing in life and that through the state the spirit could be improved. This shows that Keller was at least mildly influenced by the traditionalist school. A byproduct of this was the organization of peoples into corporations mirroring the later “charter of Fiume” and also the manifesto of “Sansepolcrismo”.
During the last days of Fiume Giudo Keller and his Yoga group were some of the last members to give up and leave the city, many of them became apolitical, some became Fascists, others joined anti fascist groups. Keller’s story does not end here but a full tale of his exploits will be told of in the next article

Eve of my Death by Ezra S.

let a thousand flowers bloom
to mark the eve of my death,
on the green base of my tomb
once i take my final breath.
let no man or woman mourn,
the conclusion to this play.
let not your heart become torn
on that blue and tranquil day.
do not cry, do not pity.
my fate was God’s will deserved.
‘he was a good soul.’ said He,
‘let his actions be preserved.’
i want to be remembered.
deep down, that’s always been true.
in a world that’s self centered,
i always thought about you,
because my life meant nothing.
nothing on its own, atleast,
but with you, i was something.
a human, not a wild beast.
with you, i could be truthful,
you saw the ‘me’ that was true.
please, let my death be useful,
let a thousand flowers bloom.

The Automaton by Faust

Struggle, Stanislaw Szukalski, 1917

The blueprint appeared one day in a newspaper. It’s speculated that one of the printing centers was hijacked by the person or group of people that created this creature so they could share their work with the rest of the population. No one really understood first what it was, the only description that accompanied the steps to follow were ‘’Automatic Art.’’. Most people, at best, were curious but unwilling to do anything with this information offered to them. They brushed off the publication as articles in the printers getting mixed up, but when some people put themselves to work to satisfy their intrigue, the existence of the Automaton only kept revolutionizing the world around us at an unbelievable pace. Suddenly, from one day to another, we didn’t have a place in society anymore.

Some of us kept wondering about the reason and the morality behind the blueprint for the Automaton being published this way, to the whole public, instead of being sold to a big corporation knowing what a powerful tool it was at its discovery. What could have been better, this insane power of creation belonging only to the upper class, and leaving the most unfortunate ones dealing with very real artists as they always have been doing, or letting everyone have the same opportunity to ditch us as craftsmen to never procure our services and skills again? Ironically, most of us agree that the latter was better even if it meant the end of our careers and the decay of our soul. Before things turned out this way, we would totally reject anything that gave more power to those in the upper caste, anything that created more disbalance between the classes… and even in cases like this where we are torn between the lesser of evils for us, we will side with evil if it means there’s more power for the people. Even if the people are willing to betray us.

Not that this shift in paradigm only affected us in negative ways. Being freed from the chains of work, of craft, of utilitarianism and what was supposed to be good or bad, what was supposed to be beautiful or ugly, what was moral or immoral to depict, felt amazing for us. No one was there to critique our work anymore, no one was there to nag about details we misplaced, no angry parents to yell at us for expressing things they felt were inappropriate. To draw, to illustrate and to paint were not work anymore, and no one would put their eyes on us anymore. Our bosses ditched us, our regular commissioners stopped calling us for work, our patrons didn’t need us anymore to please their vanity, they had to pour their money into other vices now that art belonged to everyone and didn’t serve as a sign of wealth. Art was for everyone.

The Automaton was the perfect child everyone sought to have. It worked in the most effective way. There were many of them but they were all one in the same, connected to the same brain. You would describe something, and after a few minutes of whirring sounds of printers, it would return what was requested in a paper canvas. The Automaton wasn’t perfect, but it was assured that one time would be, as with every correction, the Automaton learned and would never commit the same mistake again. But that was the mistake itself in the Automaton’s philosophy of work that no one really thought about.

As its work started to get more and more refined, people found that it was hard to make the Automaton follow certain specific inputs, as it would have been ‘’corrected’’ out by other people who didn’t want certain characteristics in the work they petitioned to the machine. These characteristics could forcibly be introduced back to the Automaton’s brain after a few tries, not without correcting out characteristics others petitioned the Automaton to create, so it was a battle about erasing the inputs of others in favor of yours. Making an Automaton emulate the characteristics of a very individual forgotten style became a frustrating battle. People finally realized their first mistake: A machine seeking to perfect itself would never have a frame of error, something so typical of us humans. A machine would never have the soul to leave a small squiggly line coming together to make an harmonious shape, nor two colors with too much contrast between them that would catch all the eyes. The Automaton rather than creating, was simply emulating what was fed to it in its creation, its brain connected to an archive gallery of several hundreds of thousands -maybe millions- of works by artists made during all history. It had the brain of each one of them, but not one of its own. It only served humans, so the outcome of its work tended more and more to what the average person found beautiful and useful, as to become more efficient and work faster by having a smaller gallery to find its resources from, ditching those forgotten artists no one knew about, those the grand majority found unappealing or ugly, those the average person didn’t care to understand.

By then, they noticed that the Automaton could work in a specific way and that it wasn’t a useful machine for those who needed more specific and intricate work. So they wanted to call back the artists, but they were nowhere to be found.

We started to share the time with each other, only doing work in presence of each other, for each other. Only people like us could understand our now considered meaningless passion. For some time it felt comforting and more like therapy, back then when this thing just appeared and everyone ditched us so suddenly… we only had each other. But as time passed by and aside from doing art we started discussing and venting our frustrations, anger started seeping into each one of us. Many resisted it. The ones who did their best to not let pessimism conquer their soul were the ones who still did things out of passion. They still found ease in creating beautiful, honest works capable of moving people in the right way, but they couldn’t help growing bitter, so day by day there were less of them. Soon we only knew anger, frustration, resentment towards the whole world that turned its back on us. We started creating with hatred in our hands. We broke brushes, we spilled paint, our pen strokes were so rough they ached in our eyes, and some of us would get startled at the aggressiveness of some works. Yet it was an addictive feeling, there was joy in and euphoria in this way of work. We started to compete in a very friendly way to see who could be more offensive with their talent, who could be more revolutionarily gross. If the others had a machine that made beautiful things for others, then we didn’t need to care to create beautiful things for them anymore. Who taught us to do that anyways? Unlearning all the technical and moral rules we memorized by sheer exhausting repetition to paint acceptable things as service to the average person was a hard but satisfying process, constantly rewarded and incentivized by seeing what the depths of our comrades’ psyches had to offer. We had a morbid curiosity to see how ugly our creations could become. And we were finally identifying as a more or less cohesive group, with a particular philosophy and a common goal. That goal required us to move our gatherings from lone cul-de-sacs with walls conquered with our hostile paintings, outside the galleries that meant glory for us in the past but that now only knew the hands of angry social rejects. We needed to take our work to places where everyone would be able to see them and appreciate them again.

It was quite hard. Once they finally realized what we were doing, they started patrolling the streets very late into the night, the only moment where we could work. But we still found our way to get away with our plans. Our goal was to paint every government building and plaster them with our demons for everyone to see. They realized our pattern and intentions after the third attack, and then we couldn’t fulfill this task without violence. We had to, one way or another, stealth our way towards the backs of the officers policing these buildings and swiftly get rid of them without alerting another one. We would fail often and have to flee the place as policemen called upon the others and reinforcements. Yet they wouldn’t be able to stop what we did, out of frustration we would just simply paint a wall in a very busy avenue or a whole house. Families would appear in the newspapers extremely ashamed of the offenses depicted in the facade of their home, only calling more and more attention of people who witnessed the inusual canvas with morbid curiosity and disgust, yet unable to detach their view from such horrid images.

The impact was mixed, but even the most aghast voices that condemned the vandalism were in some level relieved to know that the artists were still out there, even if they had the pretense to terrorize them. The whole population was slowly growing devoid of art as the Automaton refused to print the images they needed. The machine was still in its journey towards perfection, and that was the catastrophe no one could imagine from the first moment, even if it was the end goal of it, written deep into its code, in the blueprint shared to everyone. So art got sanitized, art became sterile, art became a blurry image that was a mashup of all the pretty faces in paintings it could store and learn from… and that way looked that last canvas, the moment the Automaton hit its peak: The only image it could produce, no matter the input, was a depiction of a slender pale woman standing in a stylized serpentine pose, holding a very detailed piece of floral drapery, rendered in a way that didn’t match at all the face of the lady in the painting, that looked as if it was purposefully airbrushed, no gestures or details able to be discerned except for an outline of a smile and two pupils looking at the viewer. It could be said that the paintings that we did back then, despite the vulgar and offensive factors, despite how much we tried to deform the human shape to insult and spit on nature… they were still so full of life, energy and pure emotion in contrast with the uncanny, soulless aberration that this machine created.

Return to normalcy was slow. The population suffered a lack of visual stimulus for long months until the people tried to pour their energies into learning art themselves, and so we shyly emerged back to the world, now as teachers. And even if it was consensus that it was us the ones responsible for the waves of vandalism that occurred months before, no one would bring it up. Finally the people understood that, no matter what any working contract could say, art does not serve us, we serve art.

A Nymph in the Night by Ronin

I still dream about her sometimes. She comes to me in my sleep. She slips her lips over mine, stealing my silence from me.
She comes into my bed, with only the darkness clothing her.
I can feel her heart beat…and her skin…soft to the touch.
Being with her, having her, takes me.
And in that moment, I arrive where I am always trying to go.
A place I am not even sure I will ever see.
Suddenly, I open my eyes, looking at the ceiling of a Red Roof Inn.
With only the pain in my heart to remind me where I could’ve been.
-Ronin

Futurism and Dogmatism, part 1: War and Culture by Gio

Futurism Forever has often been accused of holding a dogmatic attachment to the Italian Futurist movement. A movement that stated in it’s Manifesto that it wanted to be thrown into the dustbin of history and replaced with younger generations when the time comes. While it is true that Italian Futurism forms the foundation for what we do, we aim to take the general idea of Futurism, rejection of the past and embrace of the future, build upon it and make it relevant to the 21st century. In this series I will highlight some of the points of the original movement in which we part ways with Marinetti as they are no longer relevant to 21st century realities. I have stated most of these points on numerous occasion on the podcast, but I think they need to be highlighted in text form for easy referral.

First of all, what were the defining characteristics of Futurism? According to Marinetti in Geometrical and Mechanical Splendour and Sensitivity Toward Numbers:

It’s essential characteristics are: a healthy forgetfulness, hope, desire, unbridled strength, speed, light, the will, order, discipline, method; a feeling for the great city; an aggressive optimism stemming from a passion for sport and the toning of muscles; untrammelled imagination, being here, there and everywhere, brevity and simultaneity derived from tourism, business, and journalism; a passion for success, a pioneering instinct for breaking records, the enthusiastic emulation of electricity and machines; an essential conciseness and compactness; the sweet precision of machinery and of well oiled thought; the harmony of energies converging in one victorious path.

Much of the characteristics of Futurism, according to Marinetti, are fairly timeless and are just as relevant today as they were 100 years ago. The Futurist is above all things an innovator, somebody who is flexible and capable of thinking outside of the box, someone who is able to adapt to societal changes and flourish because of them, not in spite of them. What changes with the times are the details of Futurism. We don’t need to be super excited about planes or automobiles anymore. That would be dogmatism, and Futurists reject dogma. While it is easy to understand why Marinetti was excited about these things 100 years ago, they are common place now, and we need to continue to look forward as Marinetti did, not fetishize the technology that was new in Marinetti’s time. Pessimism over technology is not a fresh/new perspective either. Conservative Revolutionaries like Spengler and Niekisch took the opposite view on technology, that it would be destructive and have a negative influence on society and culture, and when one looks at the state of modern man, it could appear as if they were right. But in my view Technology is just a tool that is as good or as bad as the people in control of it. The culprit of modern bug man culture is capitalist consumerism and neoliberalism. Had technology been implemented along Futurist lines, rather than liberal ones, the results would be in stark contrast to modern consumerism.

But onto the topic of the first instalment of the Futurism and Dogmatism series. Marinetti famously declared war to be the worlds only hygiene. He was an outspoken proponent for Italy’s involvement in WWI. He and the rest of the movement took part in the war themselves, with several of them dying young in the process and countless others being injured. While I find Marinetti’s enthusiasm in the war and his willingness to sacrifice himself for Italy to be admirable, I don’t think this position is relevant to American dissidents today. When you support the troops or enlist yourself you are not fighting for your nation, your people or your community. You are fighting for private interests and American imperialism, which in real time means pushing the liberal values that we oppose onto every corner of the globe. This is not to say I’m a pacifist, far from it, but to paraphrase Tyler Durden in the movie Fight Club, “our great war is a spiritual war, our great depression is our lives”. As dissidents our struggle is to break the chains of neoliberalism and capitalism. And right now, as our worldview is in the extreme minority, our focus should be on the greater, rather than the lesser war, which Julius Evola talks about in Metaphysics of war:

The greater holy war is of an inner and spiritual nature; the other is the material war waged externally against an enemy population with the particular intent of bringing “infidel” populations under the rule of “God’s Law” (al-Islam). The relationship between the “greater” and “lesser holy war”, however, mirrors the relationship between the soul and the body; in order to understand the heroic asceticism or “path of action”, it is necessary to understand the situation in which the two paths merge, the “lesser holy war” becoming the means through which a “greater holy war” is carried out, and vice versa: the “little holy war”, or the external one, becomes almost a ritual action that expresses and gives witness to the reality of the first.

While Evola is a Traditionalist and we are Futurists I feel this concept of the greater vs the lesser war is still relevant to what we are trying to do with Futurism Forever. FF is not an overtly political group. We are not apolitical either, but art and culture have always been our main focus. We hope to influence culture through art, so the war that concerns us is the culture war. In my view, culture (spirit) acts as the greater war and politics (material) the lesser war, since politics are downstream of culture.

War can take the form of tanks, bombs and guns, but this is not always the case. To quote Jose Luis Ontiveros:“Culture is a battlefield and its conquest is a necessity that precedes the seizure of power.” Now Mao Zedong: “Politics is war without bloodshed while war is politics with bloodshed”. So war can take many forms. Many of our critics have complained that we “aren’t in the military or volunteering to fight in Ukraine. As war loving Futurists you should be out fighting in wars, not podcasting and blogging.” But these are not wars that concern or interest us. The culture war is what concerns us at this point in time. When we have the culture on our side we can engage with politics, and when we have conquered politics we can wage wars that we believe in. Good wars that fight injustice and cultural backwardness, not impose it.

You have to crawl before you can walk. When people try and engage in politics before the culture is on their side it results in failure and waste of time and resources. When people engage in violence without the power structure on their side it results in anti-social lone wolf attacks against people who are usually not in control of anything and these acts do more to hurt rather help your cause.

If I thought these approaches would be beneficial in helping us accomplish our goals right now, I would put my energies in that direction, but I genuinely think it is a waste of everyones time.

So as “cultural warriors” what are we opposed to and what are we in favour of?

We are opposed to empty and meaningless “postmodern” art that inspires nothing but boredom and indifference.

We are opposed to sterile and safe art.

We are opposed to rebooted and recycled ideas (Marvel, Star Wars, Friday the 13th part 72 etc)

We are opposed to modern bugman culture.

We are in favour of art that is relevant to our lives and inspires strong feeling whether it be righteous anger, exuberant laughter or morose sadness. Just make us feel something again!

We are in favor of art that is bold and unafraid of upsetting bourgeious attitudes.

We are in favor of new ideas and demand new heros and villains.

We are in favor of vitality, a strong sense of community and comraderie and a cohesive culture that we can all genuinely take pride in.

It is also worth noting that while, for political reasons, the Italian Futurists glorified war, the Russian Futurists opposed the very same war, so an anti-war stance, in the conventional sense, given political circumstances, is not at all incompatible with a Futurist framework. War can be a powerful tool for social progress and change, but this is not always the case. The details matter, so a more nuanced view on the issue is necessary for the 21st century Futurist. I would like to close this installment with a quote from Fen de Villers Manifesto for Aesthetic Reinvigoration: “Lets break through the walls of creative imprisonment, and march into a new era of aesthetic vigor.”

The Legend of Victim of Chungus by CSD

Long ago there was a Mestizo Indio boy named Artemio, who was wandering the deserts of Texas. One day on his Donkey named Alcaz, Artemio found a giant rabbit named Big Chungus. Big Chungus soon asked the young Artemio if he wanted some candy? Which Artemio said yes. When Artemio got the candy Chungus disappeared never to be seen again. Artemio did not think of it much and enjoyed his new candy. He soon became sleepy and fell asleep. When he awoke the next day Artemio realized his donkey Alcaz had been eaten by a monster. Artemio then realized that he felt a lot bigger and furrier. When he found a pond to look at himself, he realized he turned into a big rabbit just like Big Chungus. Artemio was soon found by a hungry hunter named Bumpkin who said that a nice fat rabbit right there. Bumpkin soon fired at Artemio on his mobility scooter and Artemio had to wobble away to the nearby forest. He was then chased by a Big Foot named Juan who wanted buck break the poor big rabbit Artemio but luckily, he escaped. Once he got to a nice place to hide, he passed out from exhaustion. While asleep George Floyd came into Artemio dreams to tell him that “our young generation is clearly lost.” George also told Artemio that he had become a saint and that he needs Artemio to spread his story and message to the world. Artemio soon awoke with not only a new goal but a new name, Saint Chungus, or sometimes referred to as Victim of Chungus. He soon wrote down everything Saint Floyd had told him about our young generation, how to do fentanyl, bang some bitches in a porno and how thug shaking was the true cycle of history one of the most holiest of Floyd teaching. He also wrote down the story of Floyd being kneeled on by demonic cops and how this inspired the great George Floyd Uprisings. Where Floyds followers thousands of years ago overthrew demonic entity known as the Donald. Not to mention how George Floyd had died for our sins. Saint Chungus with the Approval of George Floyd connected this idea with Georges Sorels idea of Myth that inspired the masses to overthrow The Donald and established the civilization led by the Thug Hunters and Shakers. This book that Saint Chungus had written would soon be known as the George Floyd Bible. Saint Chungus would soon leave the forest to spread the gospel of George Floyd. On his journey he met an autistic man named Karl who was being attacked by a mongrel warlord named Haz. Saint Chungus approached Haz and his army and warned him to stop or else. Haz raised his sword and Chungus said a gamer word that immediately buck broke Haz and caused him to fall on his knees along with the rest of his army to beg Saint Artemio forgiveness which Saint Chungus did because he knew that’s what George Floyd commanded. Zoltanous another warlord saw all of this from a distance and approached Saint Chungus with his army and asked him how he did it? Which Chungus responded with I sharted. This got zoltanous’s army to follow Saint Chungus. Zoltanous enraged try to rape the Saint but the Saint Chungus through power of George Floyd gave Chungus the power of Giovani Gentile to turn Zoltanous into nothing but pure thought. Then Chungus said I sharted in his mouth. Once again Saint Chungus had proven he was the messenger of George Floyd. Saint Chungus has shown time and time again that he was the true follower of Floyd and the True leader of the movement. One day Saint Chungus met a beautiful women named Faust. Chungus fell in love with the woman and decided to propose on the bridge at the Grand Canyon. When he was about to propose a giant Black Italian man named Gio said move bitch, get the fuck out of my way its black history month and pushed Faust off the bridge. Falling to her death. Gio’s servant Lord Dark would respond ‘das rite massa Gio.’ Gio would say grab that fat rabbit Dark and fry him. Which Dark did and Saint Chungus was no more.

When Saint Chungus got to heaven, he was not only greeted by George Floyd but by a bunch of other brown men such as Gaddafi, Assad, Saddam, Billy Cornpop, Angelo, Cultured Thug, Mussolini, Stalin, George Washington, and brownnest man of all CSD. All of them congratulated Chungus for his achievements and he was awarded with not only heaven but being a human and fat white boy. THE END THAT’S ALL FOLKS. Manydog may have many dogs but he has a small dong according to….. Lain….. I think maybe James but I’m suppose to be nice to him……. James is GAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY as hell.

My Head, My Property by Melontyp

Welcome to my Head, don’t care if you enjoy
To the Right we see a parade of Men that one would call Terrorists
On the Left the Entrance of my Hall made of Quartz
When you enter, you are greeted by Mussolini himself and gives you a little Tour
-Oh that Room? Nobody goes there, there is only Dust, a broken Record saying Racial Slurs and a German Man that looks Japanese lying dead on the Floor
Enter my Living Room, where I respect your Mom and have Tea Time with her
All the Rooms greet you with Fascist Symbols and Text in German
I am never alone here, different kind of Spooks house my Head
You wouldn’t believe me if I told you I am… Christian
At every Corner new and old Ideas pop up that make me drunk
There is a small Shop full of Alcohol, Cigars and Cocaine but I am addicted to Testosterone
Stop asking stupid Questions about “uuuh why is there sofa inside a whirlpool full of Milk?”
I don’t know either
Stop whining how your Eyes Hurt from the aggressive Colours everywhere
Oh and here what I want to show you, is my Giant Pool, everyday beautiful Tomboys
who are not real and never will be swim there in colorful Bikinis
To show you the Rest would take too long and your Mother called me to send you back
Therefore Stirner (who is high on Ketamine) will take you to the Exit