good night Corea
on the folds of far-eastern moutain rages, a child is sitting arrogantly and offended. a giant baby playing with atomic lollipop, clattering and clinking loudly, rumbling, stamping his feet. his howling terrifies the world. military exercices and war simulation of an extremely dangerous, disturbed power. a desiccated, increasingly instable nation, high voltage isolation in a region of strategic importance. a state frozen long before, fanatic short-sightedness ready to blaze forth and erupt. a terrorizing focal point of uranium enrichment and atomic threat. blocked cellphones, starving masses reduced to servility. thermonuclear redemption? intoxicating heaven. an ultranationalized, racially biased nation. glorious crowds march sedated, brainwashed by gigantic statues, burying the sounds of millions of throats strangled by barbed wire. the earth is ravaged by the steps of patients released from hospital to take part in compulsory social activities and applauding marches for the greater glory of the state. the sunset is drawning in the yelling of propaganda rhythms and cheering songs glorifying the leader, covering the crackling of the wizened skin of the starving millions, the wailing of masses in the concentration camps, the rumbling and clattering of the refugees. a falsified and distorted glory, a perilous riddle.
homage to Ai Weiwei
this world is pulmonic. cancer of the larynx, metastasis circulating through the bloodstream, spreading to other tissues and organs: paralyzed, poisoned and infected by untold words, concealed truths. break free, let’s break the silence. this age desperately needs subversive creation and social action. the world wriggles convulsively in mental and spiritual spasms, with a face covered with abscess, towards a new, hopeful philosophy? how old, weary, parched, infertile, poisoned, unintelligent, meaningless and sick can we become of all these artificial ingredients, colouring matters, emulsifiers, stabilizers and gelling agents? are we accidental, pure fantasies ruining our ardently loved or abhorred cities. life can be an act of concealment or of revelation and radiation. we’re struggling in the shower and shambles of flesh-eating insects, bombs and faked, mediatized angelic salutations. in the earthquakes of China, in your earthquakes. is it true that a phenomenon of considerable feminization of men can be observed recently? is there a mysterious, secret inverse proportionality between the increase of life expectancy and unconscious being, dementia and the ever-growing stupidity? touch screens, fast food restaurants and insecurities replace philosophy and conscious, critical living. no need to put more energy into it? only to drive to the nearest mall, to reach for the remote control and chill out. no protest, no cursing, no resistance, just keep pressing little gadgets. and if, despite all the precautions, the activity of the brain manifests on our face, we’ll have an instant lunch-time procedure, a liposuction and an internationally certified “no neuronal activity chip” implant. just to make sure that we join the crowd of collective mildew, that we won’t have a cerebral hemorrhage after having been beaten by the police, just like you, that we won’t go missing, arrested, detained and interrogated secretly, just like you. to make sure that we’re vaccinated against critical thinking and that we’ll only remember you in our farest, hidden cerebral convolutions. don’t we all have to be just like you if we want to reconquer the lost meaning?
East Timor
a mutilated dove of peace writhing like a lunatic refugee fleeing vicious militias. after centuries of foreign rule and decades of recolonization life is much like a life-and-death battle with carnivore bacteria, withstanding political and humanitarian leukemia, muddling through putrid, shooting clouds. election monitors, forced deportation, armed forces bathing in blood and intimidation. a terrorized, plucked, cancerous dove of peace putting its wings to the test: a microscopic, raw liberty, a spiral of confession and residual fear. sweeping clean, making disappear the political opposition; flesh torn, undiluted threat eating the bones. spiritual and mental endurance was double-checked with x-ray and computer tomography. undulating wordlessness, unfiltered nidor of grilled bodies sacrified at the hallway of maturity and tolerance, for the establishment of a sustainable economic structure. to stand firm in the hugs of razors, picks and axes, to stand bail for the imprisoned and mangled, to be a sacrificial lamb given to the tellers of votes and to UN peacekeepers in remembrance of the maturity exhibited through the electoral process. will we hear out these voices?
by Károly Sándor Pallai
