by Perfect Future

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The old forms have failed and proven themselves predisposed to fail. Existence is ravaged through possession of the tangible and ethereal. We've created a beast: both a god and devil. Unto it, we commend our spirits as we sacrifice ourselves. Our Savior named Moloch! Our Creation named Moloch! Our Empire named Moloch! Our Lucifer named Moloch!
Moloch! Moloch! Hopeless in Moloch! Crushed by the weight of Moloch! Moloch! Moloch! Big Brother in Moloch! Longing for escape from Moloch! Moloch! Moloch! Helpless in Moloch! The devil in me is in Moloch! Moloch! Moloch! In utter awe of the unquenching maw of Moloch! Hugo Ball, I've memorized your claims, played with their implications, and ultimately found them profane. Karl Marx, you were my boyhood hero. It hurts to admit that you were wrong. Marinetti, the fervor of your message was lost in your misogynistic, militaristic vision. Let us mourn your legacy because humanity is wholly human… wholly flawed. The same genes that allowed us to thrive are now the greatest threat to our lives. Yes, the old forms have failed yet must be embraced. Our vision encompasses the counter-culture in all facets, filtered through love of all life, and gives structure to not dilute the ideals through gimmick, cliché, or novelty.
Sacrifices spiral endlessly into hellish flames where we burn slowly. We’re reduced to squalor, so we can buy more shit. Untouchable conglomerates purchase political power through Moloch’s instruments. We’re left to suffer. The system is rigged for them. Yet, somehow the eroded husk of a first world nation with no middle class is still a luxury. Humanity is better than this. Beware them both… Ignorance and Want. It just goes to show we desire dusk… to live in denial… to revel in what should be reviled. We walk among ash heaps and millionaires. In your lungs resides Moloch’s breath. Cain courses through your veins.
The same blood flows through our veins. However, I’m ashamed that somehow people still claim they have the ability to establish a hierarchy of the value of life simply based on sexuality, nationality, disability, ownership of property, beliefs, past deeds… practically anything. We’re the all same despite … practically everything. We all are subject to our surroundings. It’s a new feudal system that keeps us complacent and subjugated while relieved at least we aren't “one of them.” But there is no “them.” There’s just an “us” that struggles enough as it is. The collective us includes the them. You are we. I am everyone.
The old forms have failed. The promises weren't real. Our connections never clicked. I’m still here screaming at a wall. What’s left to say? My heroes said it better in past days. So muse, grant me strength ‘cause Moloch knows my disdain. My identity relies on the belief that art can reach something that cannot be seen and affect the changes for which we've been waiting. The old has been made new and since then rejected but that doesn't dilute the purity of the motives. Let it be melancholy. How can we be happy as we’re victimized? Let it be filled with longing. It’s staggering the amount we've been denied. Let it be angry and revolutionary because we’re giving pennies or all that we sacrifice; it’s insulting. We have been crushed in a vacuum of corporate pop art designed for profits. I can’t keep quiet as beauty is ravaged and commodified as mere entertainment while Moloch robs us of our best years. Art isn't just an outlet. It’s an expression of emotional and physical loss while Moloch robs us of our best years.
I wasn't born like this. For eighteen years I feasted on corpses. I promise I was raised with compassion, but with my hands I ripped flesh from bone and forced into my maw skin and sinews; I ate menstruation and swallowed lactation. Grease and fat dripped from my chin. I swear my barbarity wasn't even human. Seven billion of us… yet two billion of them are tortured and killed every week just to keep us fed, yet four Earths can’t support a Western diet. The amount of grain to produce meat is enough to make me sick. Starvation could be cured; every steak is to the third world a slap to the face. And if flesh can be sold then oppression is justified because the elite can put a price tag on the value of life. If you show no compassion expect none in return. With such horror in the world, how do you sleep at night? How do I sleep at night? Seared in vats of boiling oil. Ground up alive because they’re male. No anesthetic; slit the throat of an animal that never saw the light outside.
Despite everything we buried in our breasts, it’s ineffectual if there is nothing left. And even if we ceased to exist suddenly this very second, a millennia could not convalesce the catastrophic past damage. Our species decimates for “progress” with the ferocity of a virus knowing full well that it brings about its own end. Colossal devastation revealed in scorched vegetation. You can’t stop the zeitgeist. At least for me it has become clear everything is already in disrepair. We've turned this home into a wasteland to benefit the elite corporate profiteers. No hope of a rapture to redeem down here; I lost some of my faith over the years, but this is one of my lingering prayers: “Please G-d save us from ourselves.” Colossal devastation revealed in scorched vegetation. You can’t stop the zeitgeist. You can’t stop the shining.
Moloch the created. Moloch the norm. Moloch the god that devours those it can’t conform. Moloch the corporatocracy. Moloch the military industrial complex that masks its motives in benevolence. There’s a new duality of man in existence (you can even lie to yourself ‘til you believe it): mankind can create miserable conditions and pass it off as charity with persuasion. The comedy of errors has not died. Legends live. A loss of pride fails to balm the aches of past crimes. Even when sanctioned white collar war crimes are brought to light, the common thugs are sacrificed. No justice for war crimes and ordering torture. Babylon immortal empire. Babylon the aggressor. Babylon lives on through us, yet is judged to be found wanting.
Morality unquestioned leads to atrocity: holocausts, sweatshops, genocide, and slavery. Don’t believe that the elite are influenced through the multitudes; their ethics stem from rewritten history. They’ll believe anything to keep away their guilt. Question literally everything. Passive observers allow this disorder. We can create our own morality. There’s no authority but yourself.
Mene Mene Tekel u-Pharsin. The writing is on the wall: “Babylon falls tonight.” We lay Moloch out upon the altar. We will melt down that furnace for ourselves to prove that steel is still fragile. We left that god in ruins. And god I don’t feel ashamed. Our greatest sacrifice will be our last. We set off to slay Death like the three rioters who failed because of their own greed. We have found harmony in dissonance and a life that is truly worth living. This is our cry… our manifesto… our only hope. We've been granted just one chance to make this last; every moment stretching out for eternity. Every action, every choice adding volume to a voice that topples empires, subverts the norm, and balms our suffering. We cry out, “There will be no future without perfection! Babylon must fall tonight!”


released December 2, 2014


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