Ars poetica
The whole history till now was muck!
Muck were the kings, muck were the churches, muck were the landlords,
Muck were all people and still muck they are. Except for me.
I am BARTOS THE GREAT MUCK PIT and I eat up all this slop,
This garbage, this excrement. I throw it on my great compost pile
And turn it and turn till it rots to dirt.
Then I consume and digest in my iron stomach, I recreate. And when I’m done
I shit.
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