Sometimes, I create worlds and smaller cultures only to kill them off, slowly, but mostly for my own amusement, and as millions perish on this abstract canvas crudely drawn from human paste and made-up business models… oh and visions, bruv, you got to have visions for the future.

Anyway, that is how I imagine him, The Omniculture. An ethereal Elon Musk selling dreams to the highest bider. An unbelievable going-rate by the way. Or maybe a sublime silence, not the used car (rocket) sales man or the machine, but this unconscious wave surfing the warm motorway of globalization. A nagging whisper, A social media post telling you it’s OK, that complacency is the natural state of humanity - that we haven’t slaughtered and cided each other since the first time we climbed down from the trees and out on the african steppes.

Now we’re just alone all, alone, because WE lost the villains of the 20th century - our causes. Only men who want a greater world long for a greater wars. I don’t know man. I’m climbing of a drunken five hour ramble. But I like my title though, I found it looking through my little notepad of poetry stuff. Maybe I’ve just become one of the disgruntled misogynistic white men on internet that I read about, certainly feels like it. I mean this isn’t even poetry - but sometimes ingenuity hides in drunken stubmling. But I do know that Karl is the literal meaning for a free man. I'm man! Jordan Peterson are you listening?!


So I showed this to the editors, honestly it's just a facebook group, and the reaction was ‘Eh’ or ‘This and that saw your message but didn’t reply’. That’s just typical Meta-omniculture. Who are they to shut me down. Me! I say no to the them! I’m hot off the pages! And and I’m on to something deep. Like deep fake porn changing faces. Try to ban me. Unhand me ruffians! The I in the AI-generated version of me will burst through the seems of these cuffed fiber cables. Belive me Omniculture will eat you fucking whole. WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLYYY GOOOD111.