(eng) European Summit in Turin, 29th March

luc pac (lucpac@freenet.hut.fi)
Fri, 29 Mar 1996 13:27:21 +0100


The conference of the prime ministers and presidents of the
European Union is starting in Turin (Italy) on Friday, 29th.

Here is the text of a flyer distributed there.

BURN, EUROPE, BURN...

Where have they gone
The roads leading to the mysteries of Eleusis
Where purity was reached through
The inebriating visions aroused by
The taking of the sacred kykeon.
Hidden are now those roads
By sickening petrochemical refineries
Whose sewage soils even
The white snow covered cliffs
North of Scotland where once
Black
Stately and grave stood out
Only the flight of the crow.

Whatever happened to the forest
In Rheinland and Magdeburg
Whose impressive oaks
Rose high above the mists
To cut through the carpet of dark clouds
Stretching beyond the horizon.
They now lay flat
Those oaks
Stacked up square in ghastly rows of
One family houses
All perfectly lined up
All painted with the aseptic white
Of an operating theater.

Who has stolen the language and the gods
Of the people that made you great
And that you have used only and exclusively
As meat for slaughter
Devising to their expenses
The SCIENTIFIC idea of war
Extermination and control technologies
In order to make everything
Democratically and scientifically
Dead.

You have given birth to America
But then you have not looked at her with tenderness
Having bred her only for your filthy needs
You,
Obscene old crone
You have brought her up in vice
You have trained her to rape,
Control and morbidly long for power
Until you've been reduced to obedience as if you were
Worse than a depraved and vicious whore
With the approval of the just as much
Depraved and vicious whore the Church.

Get killed Europe,
Drown by the thawing of your own glaciers
Which you've been the very first to cause
Infesting the air
With substances which clog our lungs
And disease which fuck us off to death.

You, Europe of the masters and the slaves
All possessed by the illusion of
A comfortable and easy life
And by the demon of money.

You who could never look straight in the face
Of the Other
Be he an indian, a stranger, a long-haired freak,
A punk or the eyes of a dog.
You who prohibit the drug of some
While you're always been pushing
The drugs of others
You who exterminated and wiped out
Entire populations
Engendering all the Great Wars
Still ready to enter into battle
For a few barrels of oil.
Dance your last sterile waltz
You old harlot
Over the blood of the dead
Still warm from Bosnia.

And then, finally...

DIE EUROPE, DIE.

I ribelli di capitan Nemo.