I do dream of factories of mass murder
and imposition of pain, not just killing,
making men scream, cutting the bodies wide
into distortions of human appearance.
This would be enjoyed, reinforced by laughter,
their hopeful and then fruitless agony
titillating our amusement, their ache and grief
justifying, I would have it, my rumbustiousness.
I’m not saying I want to do all that
or even any of those odd ideas;
but it’s an opinion I’m free to publish.
Do I really have to threaten you, fool?
I have command of my strong emotions
while yours do not concern or interest me.
--
Bartender: You really think the world's gonna end?
Ford: Yes.
Bartender: Shouldn't we lie down? Put paper bags over our heads or something?
Ford: If you like.
Bartender: Would it help?
Ford: Not at all.
Lawrence Upton
AHRC Creative Research Fellow
Dept of Music
Goldsmiths, University of London
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