By Mayakovsky.
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Fantastic, he gets there, starting out all ego
breaking it down, maybe after the line about meat?
don’t know. Loved it. Thanks.
I love that poem so much!
How 'bout some symbolist prose then?
By Rimbaud.
ROYALTY
One fine morning, in a land of very decent people, a gorgeous man and woman were shouting in the town square:
“Friends, I want her to be queen!”
“I want to be queen!” She laughed, and trembled.
He spoke to his friends of revelation, of an ordeal undergone. They swooned, one against the other.
And so they ruled all morning, as crimson curtains blazed from windows, and then all afternoon, as they strolled the palm gardens.
(Illuminations)
From BAD BLOOD
“…But orgies and womanly companionship were denied me. Not one friend. I saw myself in front of an angry mob, facing a firing squad, weeping incomprehensible sorrows and forgiving them, like Joan of Arc: “Priests, professors, masters: you falter bringing me to justice. I was never one of you; I was never Christian; my race sang upon the rack; I don’t understand your laws; I have no moral compass, I’m a beast: you falter …”
Yes, my eyes are shut to your light. I’m an animal, a nigge_r. But I can be saved. You’re all fake niggers, you brutal, greedy maniacs. Merchant? No: nigge_r. Magistrate? Nigge_r. General? Nigge_r. Emperor—you itchy old scab—nigge_r. You drank Satan’s duty-free booze. —Fever and cancer thrill you. Cripples and codgers are so decent they ask to be boiled. —The wisest move would be to leave this continent, creeping with madness, a madness that seeks hostages for lost souls. I set out in search of the true kingdom of the children of Ham.
Do I really know nature? Do I know myself?—No more words. I bury the dead in my belly. Shouts, drums, dance, dance, dance, dance! I can’t imagine a moment when whites will arrive and I’ll tumble into the void.
Hunger, thirst, shouts, dance, dance, dance, dance!”
(A season in Hell)
to tell you the truth, Rimbaud laid his own grave.
I feel nothing for this.