Ah-ah-ah, ha-ha, ho-ho!
into the streets! All who are still fresh and young and not dehumanized
- to the streets! The pot-bellied mortar of laughter stands in a square
drunk with joy. Laughter and Love, copulating with Meloncholy and Hate,
pressed together in the mighty, convulsive passion of bestial lust.
Long live the psychology of contrasts! Intoxicated, burning spirits
have raised the flaming banner of intellectual revolution. Death to the
creatures of routine, the philistines, the sufferers from gout! Smash
with a deafening noise the cup of vengeful storms! Tear down the
churches and their allies the museums! Blast to smithereens the fragile
idols of Civilization! Hey, you decadent architects of sarcophagi of
thought, you watchmen of the universal cemetery of books - stand aside!
We have come to remove you!
The old must be buried, the dusty
archives burned by the Vulcan's torch of creative genius. Past the
flaky ashes of world-wide devastation, past the charred canvases of
bulky paintings, past the burned fat, pot-bellied volumes of classics
we march, we Anarcho-Futurists! Above the vast expanse of devastation
covering our land the banner of anarchy will be proudly unfurled.
Writing has no value! There is no market for literature! There are no
prisons, no limits for subjective creativity! Everything is permitted!
Everything is unrestricted!
The Children of Nature receive in
joyous ecstasy the chivalrous golden kiss of the Sun and the
lascivious, naked, fat belly of the Earth. The Children of Nature
springing from the black soil kindle the passions of naked, lustful,
bodies. They press them all in one spawning, pregnant cup! The skin is
inflamed by hot, insatiable, gnawing caresses. Teeth sink with hatred
into warm succulent lovers' flesh! Wide, staring eyes follow the
pregnant, burning dance of lust! Everything is strange, uninhibited,
elemental. Convulsions - flesh - life - death - everything! Everything!
Such is the poetry of our love! Powerful, immortal, and
terrible are we in our love! The north wind rages in the heads of the
Children of Nature. Something frightful has appeared - some vampire of
melancholy! Perdition - the world is dying! Catch it! No, wait!
Frenzied, penetrating cries pierce the air. Wait! Melancholy! Black
yawning ulcers of agony cover the pale, terror-stricken face of heaven.
The earth trembles with fear beneath the mighty wrathful blows of its
Children! Oh, you cursed, loathsome things! They tear at the fat,
tender flesh and bury the withered, starving melancholy in the flowing
blood and fresh wounds of its body. The world is dying! Ah! Ah! Ah! cry
millions of tocsins. Ah! Ah! Ah! roar the giant cannon of alarm.
Destruction! Chaos! Melancholy! The world is dying!
the poetry of our melancholy! We are uninhibited! Not for us the
wailing sentimentality of the humanists. Rather we shall create the
triumphant intellectual brotherhood of peoples, forged with the iron
logic of contradictions, of Hate and Love. With bared teeth we shall
protect our free union, from Africa to the two poles, against any
sentimental level of friendship. Everything is ours! Outside us is only
death! Raising the black flag of rebellion, we summon all living men
who have not been dehumanized, who have not been benumbed by the
poisonous breath of Civilization! All to the streets! Forward! Destroy!
Kill! Only death admits no return! Extinguish the old! Thunder,
lightning, the elements - all are ours! Forward!
Long live the international intellectual revolution!
An open road for the Anarcho-Futurists, Anarcho-Hyperboreans, and Neo-Nihilists!
Death to World Civilization!
Group of Anarcho-Futurists (1919)