My own beleave in the final view of the black order through the ages of humanity

A surrealistic awakening from chains of agony

Only one day is left, only one day.
Every problem is destroyed,
so we raise our body and vivid soul
into the final shade of harmonic chaos.
No force and no money can stop us now
and change our faith, we become what we
are and go towards the stars. The swastika of
dreamachines will never stop. Deus ex Machina !
Liberty beyond social orders. Machines of
living metal are the liberation of the chosen ones.
Black Sun dying, Black Sun rising but only finite
by the Bloody Moon's love. A peaceful vision of revelation,
I think, but not for every living blind machine of flesh and bone.

Liberte, c'est un reve. La vie un amour pour les revenants.

Again, dystopian poetry is never a question of politics.

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My own beleave in the final view of the black order through the ages of humanity