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The man who can't visualize a horse galloping on a tomato is an idiot.(André Breton)Charles Baudelaire - To the Reader :Folly, depravity, greed, mortal sin Invade our souls and rack our flesh; we feed Our gentle guilt, gracious regrets, that breed Like vermin glutting on foul beggars' skin.Our sins are stubborn; our repentance, faint. We take a handsome price for our confession, Happy once more to wallow in transgression, Thinking vile tears will cleanse us of all taint.On evil's cushion poised, His Majesty, Satan Thrice-Great, lulls our charmed soul, until He turns to vapor what was once our will: Rich ore, transmuted by his alchemy.He holds the strings that move us, limb by limb! We yield, enthralled, to things repugnant, base; Each day, towards Hell, with slow, unhurried pace, We sink, uncowed, through shadows, stinking, grim.Like some lewd rake with his old worn-out whore, Nibbling her suffering teats, we seize our sly delight, that, like an orange—withered, dry— We squeeze and press for juice that is no more.Our brains teem with a race of Fiends, who frolic thick as a million gut-worms; with each breath, Our lungs drink deep, suck down a stream of Death— Dim-lit—to low-moaned whimpers melancholic.If poison, fire, blade, rape do not succeed In sewing on that dull embroidery Of our pathetic lives their artistry, It's that our soul, alas, shrinks from the deed.And yet, among the beasts and creatures all— Panther, snake, scorpion, jackal, ape, hound, hawk— Monsters that crawl, and shriek, and grunt, and squawk, In our vice-filled menagerie's caterwaul,One worse is there, fit to heap scorn upon— More ugly, rank! Though noiseless, calm and still, yet would he turn the earth to scraps and swill, swallow it whole in one great, gaping yawn:Ennui! That monster frail!—With eye wherein A chance tear gleams, he dreams of gibbets, while Smoking his hookah, with a dainty smile. . . —You know him, reader,—hypocrite,—my twin!
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Which fucked-up genius composer are you?
Shane MacGowan... unconsciously brilliant. You can intelligently debate any topic from theology, history, literature and philosphy... though only while you're out of your skull on booze.
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.. 'frances' 'the seventh seal'
my father and few everyday persons i was lucky to meet'It's not what we say, but what we live. It's not what we do, but what we are'- Old Lady Gabriela