My Bipolar Disorder is a stout-bodied mammal with horns and cloven hooves.

There are two types of My Bipolar Disorder:
Domestic, and Mountain.

My Bipolar disorder typically spends its days grazing on grasses

My Bipolar Disorder will dig depressions in the ground to sleep, rest, and bathe in.

My Bipolar disorder is super social during the winter, and tends to go solo during the summer.

My Bipolar Disorders tail usually points up! (Unless it is frightened or sick)

My Bipolar Disorder is extremely Curious and Intelligent.

Once My bipolar disorder has discovered a weakness in its fence, it will exploit it repeatedly.

There are over 300 distinct breeds of My Bipolar Disorder.

Within' minutes of being born, my Bipolar Disorder is up and walking around.

My bipolar disorder used to live in the white house with Abraham Lincoln.

One day an ethiopian Herder walked in on My Bipolar Disorder liteally bouncing off of cliff walls because it just Discovered Coffee.

My Bipolar Disorder has four stomachs

The horns of My Bipolar Disorder are typically removed to reduce injury to humans.

My Bipolar disorder will explore anything new or unfamiliar in its surroundings, mainly with its mouth and tongue.

My bipolar disorder readily reverts to the wild if given the opportunity.

My Bipolar Disorder is more susceptible to Parasites and other infectious diseases when it is mismanaged.

My bipolar disorder has had a lingering connection with Satanism and pagan religions

My Bipolar Disorder is considered a "clean" animal by jewish dietary laws.

According to Zeus
As long as you leave it's bones whole,
My Bipolar disorder will keep coming back to life.

All americans amply adore adult affairs, as all anarchist adapt alchemy adding astrological anatomy. Again and again advertisements allows affliction adopting and adapting behind ****** beliefs. Besides being boggled, beware big bangs become beginnings. Build beneficial bridges, contemptible courts create credit consuming countries, cops copout. Complement compassion conspire, contact & contest causes constant curiosity can cure cancer, disease & disability. Deep diving dare devils dive deep daring devils designing diabolical deeds daily. Every eclipse emits energy. Employ empathy, empower education, embrace emotion, eliminate elitism. Freedom from forever fetching, fined forgotten fundamentals fully focusing, frantic fools fizzle fast. Gas guzzling gluttons gathering garbage gardens generate generational genes. Gods gilt grows. However hustling hope hype has harmed humanity’s harvest, harboring hateful habits ignorance infects into idiots, idealist imagine, illumination increases imaging. Just join James, Jerusalem’s jackpot, jailhouse jokers, Jesus jumping Joseph just justify Kriss Kringle, knowledge, kings killing kids, ku klux **** kingdoms knowing life & logic loosely. Love loud, live & let live less lords linger, least let light lead loyal lunatics merely mortal magic. Media’s morbid makeover makes morning mindless midnight’s mayhem’s marketplace microwave midfields mixing m16 man made misery muffling many muzzled masses. Newly named narcissistic nations nationalize nc-17 nonsense needing normal numerals natural numbers not nuclear Nazis overseeing oblong objectives orbiting our original origin. Organize outlaws outlanders outcasts overall people pathetically pleased pill popping pissants. Permute perseverance provide physical philosophy preceding prime power, push. Quit quarreling, question quadrants, quests quench qualifying qualities. Realist realize realities rigged, reborn rebels raid reason rejecting rusted routines reducing royalty redoing realities redundant reflection. Reaching scared stars secretes surface scientific simplicity. State symbolism segregates sense spelling spellbound Satanism. Temples trapping truth’s timeline, television tames tons teaching troubling tall tails, turbojeted tanks takeoff targeting trailblazing teachers. Ugly unlawful union undone. Ultimate universal u-turn unites us using unearthed UFOs. Unknown variables vast vacuum, visibly violent volcanoes, vented virus vaults, vanishing voyagers, weather warnings with world wide war warming weapons waking who would watch wandering why x-axis yields yin & yang yet yankees yell yearly. Ziggurats, zodiacs, zen & zion zipped, zombie zoos zigzaging zero zones

Travis scotts concert was 100% a satanic soul harvest. He sent those souls to another dimension.
Think I'm stretching? READ ALL THE WAY THROUGH.
First off. He called his event a "festival".  The definition of a festival is a feast. Did you see a large amount of food?
Or did you see a feast of souls?
His stage was the symbol for alchemy.  The egyptian ankh. The Egyptian ankh has to do with life. Because the wealthy know when you die and when you are born, you create a ripple in time and space for your soul to come and go. The best way to describe it is like a pool. Imagine you are about to jump into your local swimming pool. The water will break your entry and you will safely hit the bottom. Now. Imagine there is a person at every single part of the edge and you all jump in at the same time. Now you've got a problem. Soul harvesting is the same way. When you die your soul creates a ripple and it can safely leave. But. When you have a bunch of people dying in the same spot the spiritual realm becomes stressed in that location due to the high amounts of energy our souls resonate as they are leaving and entering the in between of this realm and other dimensions.  Therefore they have created machines that have tapped into the in between to ****** your soul. Who gets it and where it goes?  Other things are possible as well. Like the exchange of a good soul for whatevers on the other side?. Have you ever heard of cern? The large hydron collider. It's the largest machine in the world. This is NOT knew technology. The Mayan indians knew about this. The egyptians knew about this. THIS IS WITCHCRAFT AT THE HIGHEST DEGREE.
Let me break it down.
Travis Scott is a WITCH. The microphone is his wand. He is a (M.C.) (Master of ceremonies).  
With his wand he uses his voice (frequency) to help bring in the energy needed to open the portal. He brings a crowd of 50 to 70 thousand people who are generating IMMENSE amounts of energy into a low vibration. Love is the highest. Aggression is the lowest.
Then the design of his stage along with the lights become the sigil to help open the portal. Remember his stage was the symbol for alchemy?
YOU can't see the portal. You just see a fancy light show.
But those who are dying and their souls are separating from their bodies can.
The only way a living person MAY see through the portal is if they had taken an Elixir like Ayahuasca.
Do you ever wonder why all these "rappers" want to date the highest ranking Arminian witch family Kardashians?
Could it be because they are witches?

They do these kind of rituals behind closed doors all the time. What you saw was them coming out in the open.
The goal for you is to pass on and move to a higher dimension. You are drawn to the heavens because that's where you came from.
When you start gaining wealth, you start the search for immortality. Wealth is a drug that most refuse to part with.  So this is where satanism comes in. There's a theory of  reincarnation if you can create enough negative energy for yourself, you can weigh your soul back down. This is where the technology of transferring your consciousness back into another avatar has its place.
You can see why we are at a cross roads of transhumanism and luciferienism.
Some believe the elites WERE once humans and during the days of Atlantis that changed. Their technology hit a point they no longer needed human bodies. And they became the pinnacle of Transhuman. But no longer human. Something else. Maybe this is what "sanat kumara" is? A.K.A. Satan.

I could answer your questions with a simple, off-the-cuff explanation but have ended up writing this essay: the more I thought about what you’d asked, the more the I felt it warranted a fuller explanation so I will try to explain why I call myself a Wiccan and how I come to be following the Wicca Path. And apologies in advance for the length of this!

As well as my love of Literature, I love History with a similar passion. My degree was in English and History and although I specialised in Shakespearian and post-Shakespearian literature and Modern History, I have a long held fascination with Celtic and pre-Celtic history, beliefs and spirituality. It is the mysticism of the Old Religion that seemed to attract me most and I found myself drawn particularly to the Celtic and Welsh mythology and have read extensively about it: Cornwall and Wales (mid Wales in particular) are my two favourite places in the world. I have read a lot about Celtic and pre-Celtic history, beliefs and religion over the years, both fiction and non-fiction.

Although Jewish by birth, I was brought up by my father who was a confirmed atheist so I lost out on any formal religious influence as I was growing up. Perhaps because of his views, I developed a distrust of formal, mainstream religion. That’s not to say I felt I had no spiritual beliefs at all, it’s just they were untapped and unidentified; I felt I was reaching out for something but it never took on any tangible form, rather like in a dream when you cannot see clearly the faces or forms of the inhabitants of your dreams.

By the time I got into my forties, I realised there was something seriously lacking in the spiritual side of my life. These beliefs were compounded by three events:

    * reading James Lovelock's Gaia theory [which inspired me to write one of my favourite stories, Gaia's Last, published here];
    * my discovery of Jean Auel's Earth's Children series of books , Clan of the Cave Bear, etc. which go into extraordinary detail of Cro-Magnon peoples' belief in nature spirits, worship of The Mother and Shamanism;
    * a sudden change in my circumstances that forced me to re-evaluate every aspect of my life and my existence.

It was at this time I began to research the Old Religion: paganism, nature-worship, whatever you want to call it, and this led me to discover Wicca.

The more I read about it, the more I realised it fitted in with my current state of mind and outlook on life. Maybe there is a sense of escapism inasmuch as the roots of Wicca look backward to a simpler time and as I was having difficulty coping with the complexities of the changed circumstances in my life at the time. Wicca seemed to offer exactly the spiritual needs I was lacking.

That is not to say that Wicca is old-fashioned and out of date. Rather the contrary in fact. Whilst its roots acknowledge the Old Religion, Wicca is relatively modern having been developed by a guy called Gerald Gardner who published a book called Witchcraft Today in the 1940s I believe which re-established in the public eye the old pagan beliefs that have been around since the dawn of man. These beliefs never really disappeared even through the worst of the atrocities perpetrated against followers of the Old Religion [The Burning Times ]. (And just to make an important point about the title of the book and Wicca in general, Witchcraft in the pagan and Wicca context is NOT Black Magic or Satanism as the tabloid press or mainstream religion would have you believe; it could not be further from them. It is simply an acknowledgement of the existence of natural forces that can be used or channelled by those who choose to learn these ancient skills).

I have seen Wicca [and other forms of Paganism] referred to as Green Magic and that seems the perfect definition; it is immensely comforting to work so closely with the natural world and to feel such a part of it.

So for me, Wicca is an ideal spiritual antidote for the impossibly fast-paced, self-serving lifestyles we all seem to be caught up in these days, often through no choice of our own. It is as valid a belief system as any other practised throughout the world and is nothing like the forms of Wicca popularised in the media with TV shows like Charmed and its ilk!

Wicca is it is not something to be taken on lightly - Wicca practices should be treated with the same reverence as those in any other belief system. It requires study, practice and dedication.’

I have to confess to have been lacking in all three since I originally wrote this so have vowed to myself to rectify these shortcomings. I feel excited about my rekindled sense of spirituality and more at peace with myself for making this decision.

Go in Love & Light!

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How do you feel about this and that?

A cockroach stealing your children's dreams of a bright and peaceful future?

Watching a mongoloid getting backhanded by a ******* with a heart of gold?

The unknowable can't be evacuated by an atomic bomb.

Knowledge cannot be enthralled by microbiology.

Peace CAN & WILL shatter into fragments by the use of clinical drugs.

Fun finds the cure for cancer in a twisted upbringing that you and your siblings will never be blessed to experience.

Trust can trigger an avalanche of facts, AND satanism should generally avoid including sexuality.

Mary Magdalene turns boring things into ****** tension like peace inspires fundamentally skewered acts of protests.

Our world leaders briefly researching painful mutilations in an ancient garden in Greece, while suggestively grabbing handfuls of lost gifts in a church made from human bones.

How are you feeling about this mess of words I've sewn together?  

Televised revolutions are deeply advertising etched foreskins of death like Disney World sells us dates with Mickey Mouse and his muse Minnie as Donald poses as Adolf ******.   

Watch your friends fade and die as they disobediently blow away blue swamps at your feet, never even bothering you with a decent goodbye.  

There's a supply and demand on our radios briefly warning us of fearful flesh in the background of a dark ash filled sky, gently driving away from mysteries spied through a peephole.

I would have cried briefly, if worshiping premonitions in the shadows was good human behavior...But it's not..

Your sisters are daintily self-destructing emergency shelters dancing w/ both hands in your pockets while vomiting their lunches into fine porcelain. Aren't we lucky?

I am happily reusing substances
and creating electrifying populations with clay and words. A seamstress of sorts I suppose.  But I'm no artist.

Pentecostalism might be able to rid the world of a nightmare and your wildest dream might have been known to lead to a disorder that hasn't yet been but already has five matter of fact cures.

The Bible courses through the veins of vengeance like physics can be used to detect our long-term relationship with Santa Christ. Satan and I think this is exciting!

Complex religious designs can be combined with gracelessness in the name of American eye-candy.  We can be uncomfortable if it's entangled with destiny. Of this I am certain.

Is that what you called me?
A ******* Satanic?
I'm atheist for one
For two you must comprehend
The undeniable difference between
Insane and Satanic
Allow me to elaborate
Insanity comes from the constant
Redundant tolerance of *******
People like you propose
Satanism comes from the belief
That a super being with horns and wings
Can buy your soul and give you equality
I'm satanic?
Maybe I'll use you in my next ritual
Ask for the gift of sanity
So I can tolerate your ******* some more
Before you call me satanic
Learn how insane I am
Or I'll have to show you

They've stopped burning churches and
Ramming knives into one another.

Now they visit the woods without corpse
Paint and disposable cameras,

Eating Norwegian mushrooms around
Fires, boomblasters blasting

'De Mysteriis dom Sathanas' out into
Pinetree forests.

Media turned Black Metal into "satanism".
Inspired the weak.

One scratched the back of the other as newspapers
Sold more than ever, and

Small egos acted beyond their sizes, trying and
Dying for coverage.

Sometimes I feel the remains of vikings,
Battle worn and anti-christian still, after death,

Moaning: No. It was never just for
Show.

They've stopped burning churches now.
Perform with unpainted faces.

One final
Protest.

The devil is ink on cheap paper.
Money and newspapers are barely wood.

Some say they burn like old Norwegian churches.
Others just like their music raw and real.

I refuse to stop now,
See I'm only just beginning

Veil over the collective
Eye(s)
Let's move from spiritualism
Pentagrams and upside down crosses
Illuminati to satanism

Let's put it in modern music,
We're gonna die young

Let's lose ourselves in lust
In sweat
In pagan ritualism
Let's go for shock value
Over the normal cynicism

Let's drink ourselves to death
And ****** into life

I can't believe
This is modern music.

Installed in the Eclectic Parallel World of the invisible portal of Saint John the Evangelist, everything levitated in his sacred basaltic cavern in Katapausis, in the Patmos archipelago (Koumeterium Messolonghi, Chapter 16 / page 114. Editorial Palibrio-USA). They would find themselves in communion with the clan count, resembling being in their proper ectoplasm; conforming to the only part of masonry ruled to redirect them in the messianic workings of the ascension stages. Vernarth; he besieged in the conscious state of him having to adhere to the cavern, after having finished his labors by waiting three months. He risks being consumed by the myriads and conflagrations, retracting them in parapsychological clouded ways, which subsisted to consecrate themselves in the lavish places divided towards the horizon. The iridescence threatens the primary ultraviolet, lifting the carriage of Apollo Citar, a neighbor of the astronomical cave sketch of the Muse Urania. A lame nuance escapes and dissolves from his mathematical prayer, capturing the spiritual intensity that inspired Saint John to build the temple near his cave of the Apocalypse on the island of Patmos, inserted in the death throes of his embryonic revelation, to pour him into the Megaron to build.

The saint appears only on certain days looking at Vernarth from afar, to encourage him in his progress on the rocky rocks of sharp silica, he is seen as a beautiful adonis dressed in a chlamys with delicate pinkish tones. With such scruples, he redounds a psalm of the angel that normally accompanies the Evangelist around him, with greenish and indigo tones in the perspective quadrinomial of heaven, that he was perishing in his most afterlife redemption in the glory of the empyrean. More convenient than the superlative spiritual intelligence irrigated with the aldehyde, and the condensed water of Skalá, in hecatombs that indicated anarchies of the luminous prophetic men and the habit of the exokarstic soil, endowed with a small perforated Epsilon demon, obtaining its chemical weathering in certain limestone rocks, dolomite, and plaster. Diverting the attention of Etréstles that he glowed overwhelmed and charred. He was not stopped by the currents of splendor and the stormy pollutions of Cymopolea, in his hieratic invocation of the scalded typhoons of the drills of Hephaestus. This demon could be Tytillinus timorous in the defections of the deities of Mnemosyne relegating himself from his precepts, which according to this legend induced protervas inclinations of the clergy during the omitted religious services, he is the one that Saint John the Evangelist feared, that he would not give him the Asfalés Pérasma “license” to enter and be able to commission them in tasks that had been predicted for the Katapausis services after the quarterly. The Travertine silica, with residual sedimentary rocks, was partialized from the extrinsic biogenic that is deposited outside, the travertine predicted the monumental rocky karst of Patmos, for the secretions of calcium carbonate, among so much modest certainty taking you through the Invisible Eclectic Portal, and their Mundis Parallel that crashed with attached carbon molecules that, in disarray, manned them. The chasm was a cascade of weathering that became stalactites in the runes of the travertines, Thermo dynamizing the cavities that were conceived in the invisible caverns, under the parallel caves of the translucent travertine and in the sapwood of the troglodyte ghosts, materializing on the top wind tunnel.

Vernarth; I was with everyone working in the building of the Temple near the outside walls of the Cavern of San Juan, there was Etréstles Eurídice, Raeder, Petrobus, and Alikanto immersed in the Aulos who rang about exciting their ears with the royal denotes, which always had a special quality when he remained in Kalimnos. In good ink, knowing that the entire limen of proximity to the cavern was flooded by the enigmatic revulsive with the presence of Tytillinus, all are reordered towards the poles of tangible etherization with Psalms 120 to 132, thus they would give the antipode disposition with the Divine Mercy, to compensate the crown of the fifteen hours in the afternoon, thus disintegrating the agonizing parallel world that coincides with that of the fifteen hours in the morning. Somehow refraining from the northern paragon with the Tytillinus' shadowing, with the hooks of bewilderment and its scathing thoughts. With precisely this conspicuous shape; Vernarth will allow himself to be swallowed by the beast and reside in his abrasive stomach, making him believe that it will be consumed by him, so that he will soon fall close to it when vomited, thus confusing him, to make him believe that he was the same baby from his conceived womb. Vernarth manages to capture this exotic sinister image near the sinkhole, seeing him depressed in the Tytillinus Prisco; where all attentive listened to the textual vocabularies of the beatific, with the fruit of Karpos, for the benefit of a descendant gained by defeating the devil.

The European Sibilla carried the Gladius in his hand but exchanged it with the Xifos alternately for the death of innocents entrusted by Herod the Great, and for the evasion of the Holy family into Egypt. This confirms the liturgical grouping of the Easter Triduum; alluding to the passion of Christ, and perpetrating the pain of the Devout at his death, and triumphant at his resurrection. The sense of surrealism transports Saint John digging in all the layers and hordes of the Faith, his component of tribulation moved in the Egyptian and Greek cartography, mobilizing the triangular areas of the Palan, which moved in a geometric block reaching the edges of the hypotenuse gradient and the wind tunnel that lifted them, cornering the beast that visited them, pretending to be weak and imprecise. The man will carry the simile of his name, with hyperbole more or less in men who dare not to anticipate the conflicts of the gained space.

Vernarth, plots to continue insinuating with his labors, sees with optimism escape from this calamity, calls everyone to be close to the law ..., once they continued taking the steps towards the cavern. He emerges from convulsions on all edges of the cave, leaving everything dark and with vanities deterred at the end of the temporal Mundis Parallel. In the intermission, Saint John towards the response of Psalm 120 to 132, the fiery roar of the playful roar of the Tytillinus interferes, banishing the shaking of its **** to banish it from the Basilisk's egg, avoiding creating its heavy monarchy over them by prostrating them, as if to dissent. by being repentant or beheaded. Saint John the Evangelist will be an egregious demonologist, compiling thick volumes with the names of the attributions of each of the demons of infernal hierarchy. In this Venusian Aion symmetry, he moves them interconnecting with sublime periods where the intuition of the zafral of the human scale is lost, and of the archetype of Satanism or Satagenesis, with austere precision that includes Leviathan, ruler of the demons, to Ukobach, procurator of keeping the infernal flames alive. So that the manumission of slavery finally reigns according to one's own demonized moral individuality. The amount of an invocation of this type is always the soul of the unconscious individual, who will end up going to be squeezed into the underworld. The demons are invoked and they will invoke themselves in their dawn, to walk in their own darkness of the stagnant past, the mechanized present, and the multidimensional conscious future by means of exclusive enchantments that will be found here in the Mundi Parallel of the Invisible Eclectic Portal.

origination of Satanism,
tied Buddhism to hedonism –
to bastardize the -isms.
not fitting, not where i am
supposed to be.
if Napoleon were alive this
moment, think he’d be living
the life i’ve led? prememories
causing us to be learn’d
without having ever experienced.
recurring Josephine.
    (epigenetics)
to be found implant’d upon all
those slivers. beyond physical.
and Hemingway tactics:
   “each line is a waste if
     every line is not its own story.”
reason to state, ease up. relax,
drink up and write. all is implicit.
come back less ****’d up, with
no more quotes, drop hyphens and
speak.
– unintelligent men will
   die for their cause.
   intelligent men will
   live forever for their cause.
reality of once homelessness.
oh, how stark. was waiting
to lose self for a better perspective.
– if you wanna know a man,
   know the world when he was twenty.
was restless for wisdom, was
starved for communion,
and my eyes again will ache.
    (this time it’s just a line)
and a dog ate the last papers –
how terribly frustrating.
        break.     and all conversations
are destined to progress.
– don’t you know you shouldn’t
   do that? it could stain the carpet.

I accept atheism, agnosticism,
Transmigration, reincarnation,
Obliteration and nothingness.
These beliefs include all religions,
Yes, Voodoo, Satanism, Witchcraft,
Judaism, Christianity, Muslim, Hindu,
Shintoism, and Buddhism
(even Scientology).
Some sects aren't polite.
I won't mention the one that rhymes with:
Vileness, truthless, bias, noxious, menace,
Hubris, vicious, ****, prejudice, malice,
Callous, darkness, heinous, carcass or badness.
I might lose my head, or something.
But all the others,
They're based on humanitarianism,
And isn't that what it's all about?
Us,
Not them.

oh satanism in suburbia
its such a fun thrill
scare the **** out of Christians
goes down like a pill

god is good
satan is mean
but there both tyrants
oh what a scene

no god is mean
satan is nice
long as you love
fire and ice

are we not sinners
oh what a rap
live in fear
and don't be a sap

two back water religions
fighting it out
a testament to cruelty
no matter what you spout

trapped in 3 dimensions
blind as as a bat
they have  it all figured out
with the brains of a rat

god and the devil
now theres a choice
between two meanies
you have no voice

choice with in choicelessness
that is your path
its the wrath of god
or the black mass

give me a brake
what a sad cast
darkness vs darkness
look at your past

some ascend in darkness
and fall in grace
the path to god or devil
is such a dry place

life is complex
with myriad lore
forget about tyrants
and discover your core

there is darkness and light
they are both who you are
integrate them now
and be your own star

Policies defined by the police, homosexuality, corruption by employees. Abuse of the pharmacy - Mom comes from ****** and demons of Azaz. This is the city that the dogs of Moab **** and the land; The accessories are security tools for terrorism. Homosexuality, to the doctor's particular conviction. After the outbreak of the Alhambra. The symptoms of the disease are established and paralysis begins. There are also changes in the city. Female mafia and other ******. Backup copies are protected. Such homosexuality, security device. Emergency options, algebra licenses, favorite editions, Moab city records. Local configurations to protect these devices. The dangers of homosexuality are important. Military circles won: after the wars. In the environment, cancel it. Other Country Country Country Morcha ***** and countries Country Suspicious patterns. Police, employees, prostitutes, merchants, depression, night, the devil says that wine is a city; Average gay, prostitution, prostitution and country. More security improvements. The police of this device protected the fear of homosexuality, the weakness of the faith; hospitals; The post-traumatic problems of the destruction of the devil by the Algerians. Positive changes in the cities ****** and visitors. Young mafia couple. ******* and country The police stopped to ask questions about the police. The danger of decadence, homosexuality, depends on the disease; Common drugs Post-traumatic and air-conditioned problems. Algebra, the evolution of the *******. friends and repairs; Mafia area. Country of prostitution and ******; Additional benefits for the police, homosexuality, veterans protection. Impact drugs after the alsemeera. Satanism after the event. Change of disabled and rebuilt city. Fornicadoresputo and adulterers; The police killed the police, more security. these drugs, corruption, psychology; Alzeihmer is a problem of post-traumatic Satanism. Gypsy Depression The intriguing private attraction that attracts gypsies is like two blind gypsy guards who seek the best possible entertainment in the future. The foundations of the mafia, other police and security forces. Applications, terrorism, homosexuality, faith. Hospitals after his death,
The Alhambra had withdrawn from the brothers.
Prostitution and violence have changed.
Who and the changes in the city. queen
of the Mafia, health and the land; Next device.
Police wish these catastrophic, catastrophic
protections, Homosexuality, security. *******:
Emergency situations, algebra, change.
Pants and communication of municipal
books. Tips - The spaces of prostitution.
****** and Moabitas in the front coverage
For diseases and the guards of prostitutes.
So Danger the dangers of homosexuality.
they are motivated by corruption; The illness
Hospital, parasites, other directed products.
Employment Women and the gods.
of Mordecai. For the moment, we propose.
The next source. Of services, homosexuality,
Due to corruption to the harmful effects
of Come. Of the ****** of Azaz and the
demons. This is the city where Moab
is located. Love with the ground and other
policemen are lost. Improvements, security
tools for homosexuality. Of the terrorists,
a condemnation especially to the doctor.
After the beginning of the Alhambra the
relationship between the rooster ***** and
paralysis. Start With changes in the city.
Mafia female and other copy. The security zones
are protected Such A device of the security
of homosexuality. Emergency license options,
algebraic acceptance. The change that is changing
in the city - Moab. It is cut for the protection
of these devices. The dangers of homosexuality
They are important. The victories won:
after the effects Environmental drinks, revoke.
Another city of Morcha and his suspicious
Country Blood, ******, Cars, and more.

Poetry is one of the *** position that most of us
Is afraid of trying, we squirm to the ideas of
Giving it a go: the *** in poetry goes …..
from the low pitch, to the high volume
Of ecstasy, it doesn’t always have to
Be after dark, it was said that the gay men

And women enjoy *** more than the straight men
Implicit and boldly imaginative: hashtag
the straight men and women

Sugar level is low, while the gay men and women
Level is high on excitement; it’s all about the enjoyment
Poetry is *** to new ideas of acceptance,

A lady in the street, but a freak under the sheets,
Shyness in the voice, to a loud thunderous conclusion
Of mumbling words: asking for help from the almighty

Tomorrow, someone is going to look into their baby’s face
And called him or her Poetry, after a night of ***,
The toes curling *******, to face images of Satanism
While clinching on for dear life: Poetry is life
Staying alive, be not afraid of poetry…..


*What *** is, we don't know, but it must be some sort of fire. For it always communicates a sense of warmth, of glow. And when the glow becomes a pure shine, then we feel the sense of beauty." -- D. H. LAWRENCE

Halloween:Truth or Tricks??
Halloween evolved from "All Hollows" Eve. It originated from the pagan holiday honoring the dead. On All Hallows Eve, the veil between the world of the living and the world of the dead was thin. It allowed the souls of the dead to come back to earth and walk among the living

Halloween is a religious holiday belonging to the Roman Catholic Church. ... The holiday is “All Hallows Day” (or “All Saints Day) and falls in Nov.

Jehovah's Witnesses: They don't celebrate any holidays or even birthdays. Some Christians: Some believe the holiday is associated with Satanism or Paganism, so are against celebrating it. Orthodox Jews: They don't celebrate Halloween due to its origins as a Christian holiday. Other Jews may or may not celebrate it

While the Bible doesn't mention Halloween specifically, it does, of course, have lots to say about the forces of evil. ... Scripture is full of stories where good and evil are pitted against each other, as well as Bible verses that offer wisdom about facing darkness, deception, and fear in your own life.

Samhain (pronounced 'sow'inn') is a very important date in the Pagan calendar for it marks the Feast of the Dead. It is also celebrated by non-Pagans who call this festival Halloween. ... Samhain has been celebrated in Britain for centuries and has its origin in Pagan Celtic traditions.

A few observations:
HALLOWEEN is the most important day of the year for Devil worshippers, according to the founder of the Church of Satan, and everyone else has been urged to avoid celebrating this “dark” day

Anton LaVey founded the Church of Satan in the US in 1966.

He was the country’s most prominent Satanist up until his death in 1997 and authored several books, including The Satanic Bible, The Satanic Rituals, The Satanic Witch, The Devil's Notebook, and Satan Speaks.
In the Satanic Bible, Mr LaVey wrote: "After one's own birthday, the two major Satanic holidays are Walpurgisnacht (May 1st) and Halloween.”

Walpurgisnacht, or Saint Walpurgis Night, is a German annual event which is known in German Folklore as Witches Night.

Even today, the Church of Satan recognises Halloween as an extremely important day for evil.

The occultists’ website states: “Satanists embrace what this holiday has become...

**** it, my curiosity is too strong. I take my first steps and hope at the same time, a staff member exits at the same time. To help with my nervousness and attend to me.

Not seeing anyone, no-one at all, staff or patron.

Inside it’s cold, darkly lit and reddish in the background. With no soft or hard light from the sun outside, where humanity can benefit from. It doesn’t look like a church but does have the feeling of a dogmatic overtone and a place for shared and public worship. But I do need a staff member, really not to help deal with my angst. I walked to the front where a picture of Baphomet hangs in human glory. Looked past and saw a sign, ‘office’ with an arrow below it. Finally some help.

This is all on account of freedom of movement and beliefs.

And naturally my angst slowly leaves and I accept at the same pace as my reasons for being here. Plus my intellect had begun to be curious and that must be indulged.

Standing outside the office, it’s closed and enorcaged anyone to sit and pray to Baphomet. I shrug my shoulders and walked back and waited for the general hall.

A moment sitting alone in the hall. A strong acceptance fell over and cleanse my inner world and everything here became beautiful and privately said goodbye to my old life.

Looking at my watch and realizing I had been here for three hours. I wanted to laugh very loudly. I turned around and the only person is sitting here in the hall. A brunette, middle-aged women who dressed so much alike to the middle class. We instantly made eye contact and returned in a polite British head nod. I smiled and waved hello. She looks highly innocent, so to notice all the art here, to know what this building is and it’s intended use. The sight is quite amusing and it’s not a clap at her. I do not even know her.

I turned around and the painting of Baphomet stole my eyesight. She sat next to me. “I’m Carol. This is the third time I’ve seen someone from the public here. It seems they all come at night. I and the staff have started to run out of things to talk about.”

When she stopped talking, I made polite eye contact with her. Her hand is extended. “I’m Ayn.”

We shake hands. “Like the author.” She giggles.

“Unfortunately.” I breathe and go back to looking at the painting. “Have you been a member long?”

“Most of my adult life.” Carol looks middle ages, sweeter than honey and reminds me of a first crush, the girl down the street. “I found it practical and fulfilling. A place to learn about self-responsibility.” She faces the same painting. She sighs. “Glorious, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I must admit. Very appealing, very tempting and aesthetically satisfying.” I replied.

“What brings you here?” Carol asks, adjusting her body to face me. I’m wondering why she isn’t at work.

“I’m starting to believe it’s false hope or misleading information.” I light a smoke. When I first saw the signs encouraging to do so. “It’s vice.”

I breathed out, thinking I just ****** it up for myself or just stepped on the wrong feet. Carol laughs and giggles. “Well, I don’t support that reason to join. But you’ll find a lot of that around.” Carol asks for a smoke. I oblige. “You know, you don’t need satanism to fill out your vice orders. I’m sure there are theatres for that.”

“I’ve tried the **** theatre’s, it doesn’t help,” I replied. Happy she isn’t angry. She’s cute.

“You’re not moonlighting are you?”

I wanted to laugh. “No. I’m a writer.” She pulls back. “Don’t worry about it. It’s romance and despises the media.”

“We got a lot of journos. And you know what they say about the romantic artist?”

I smiled. I knew what she is implying. “They’re most honest people in the world. I can’t speak for the rest of them, that applies to me. I just know what love is and what lust is. I can only find lust and when in love, something pulls us apart.”

“Maybe it’s destiny. I’m happy you’ve taken an interest, but you shouldn't watch those propaganda videos.” Carol stands and extends her hand. “I’m still a woman, so you’ll need to work for my holy parts, but I’ll take you home and school you.” I think about it for a moment. “You know it’s hard to start over alone.”

It’s senseless to think one can live without the other. Firm delicate poetry life. Modern and it goes beyond meaning with words and I guess it means it’s in her. Filtered sunlight. The full context of myself, trying to find one place here on earth to fit in and to go beyond that size. Silver moonlight. But when one fights their own monster, fights against death, respect for trying, but fails regardless. But my own desires is too overwhelming and wanting everything now to be acted. Learning at her place, *** came later. The first lesson, that the devil takes on more faces than God himself. An enigmatic holiness.


DONE FICTION

The perfume of fame is desperation and the insecurity is high on inside one’s soul.

Translate from the metaphysical is in inarticulated words, faceless and the meaning is in the symbols, changing patterns. Few paths lead to personal enlightenment. Devout only to thyself, my own will, thoughts and toiling hands, open to my artwork. Stellar like the patterns of constellations. By accident, I stumbled upon something I should never know about and finally, I comprehend the totality of existence.

I head out west and found myself close to central Australia. I took only two full outfits of clothes and the clothes I wore wearing on my back. No food, just only books, and writing materials. Everything else including the bible had grown proven of no need for me. I set up camp, rented a room to this middle-aged couple, who lost their spark and self-questioned if they even had started with pure love in the first place. It’s hot on a constant thread, it didn’t bother me, I grew used to it and when I’m alone, I worked and read naked. Languish for eternity. Magic in isolation.

My method of writing just writes like what I’m doing now, over the typewriter. From the second edit, through my grammar software on a computer from either the late nineties or early two-thousands and if I’m really hot passionate about the project, I work naked. Like everyone should.

I’m writing a novel about two lovers. Cliche now, but people like it and at the moment with fiction writing. Romance seems to be what I’m good at. Now, the two lovers, man, and woman. The man, a young poet, constantly homeless and the woman, a painter. In the evening heat, meet and the woman runs, not able to embrace love and the man, insecure. Nothing special. You’ll have to read the book once it’s published. It’s where the poets live. Now, this is the current book I’m writing on. ‘When Love Steps Outside’. I got a few pages in this days writing. A knock on the door, it’s her, Sharron. The wife who owns this house.

I stopped typing. I whirled around on my old fashion chair. “Yes, Sharron.”

She peeks her head in. “Good, you’re not naked.” She closes the door behind her. “I’ve got a young lady here, she says her name is Anastasia. You know her?”

“No,” I answered, lighting a smoke and trying to recall the name. “Is she in a suit?” Hoping she is from the publishing house.

“She isn’t. But is dressed very posh. Like a royal.” I told Sharon to bring her in. but not to leave my room once she is here. “Maybe a girlfriend? Afterall you spend all your time reading and writing.” Sharron said as she left my room.

I dusted myself off and attempted to finish my smoke. It’s always obvious we miss.

Sharron knocked on the door and I stood up. “Come in.” My face turned blank. “You must be Anastasia? It’s nice to meet you.” I extended my hand to shale, instead, all I saw was a woman who is beyond the beauty of this world.

She wasn’t replying to the gesture. Looking back now, she seemed a touch scared. Not of me. “Are you the writer on French couple who stumbled upon the pope’s library?” An old book. Anastasia moves around another book with her hands, across her belly. Maybe she didn’t shake my hand on account of that.

“Yeah, it was my third fictional piece.” My shoulders shrug. I turned around and spoke. “I must admit, I’m not as scared as I thought I’ll be. When meeting such a devoted fan. I moved to Sydney almost a year ago. No one here knows who I am.” I begin to sign my autograph. “It’s flattering that you found me.”

I lift up my autograph. “I have read your work and I am not a fan.” She sits on the bed and I realize Sharron isn’t here. “That book, it sounds too familiar to me.”

“Well, I”m sure it’s been done before. Most things have in literature and film.” I sat too.

“I mean, like in my personal life.” She cut me off.

I breathed and lit another smoke. “Look, I am no genius. I’m sorry you like a boy who doesn’t know you exist or you fell in love with your man and learned he’s an *******. I don’t even own a cat. I just write about love. It’s fiction truth.” I took a puff from the cigarette stick and enjoyed heavily.

She shakes her. “No. it’s a combination of past and present, maybe some bad grammar. Your book. It tells the story of my parents.” She takes a photo out the book she walked in with. “Here.” I take a look, her mother is more beautiful than she is. “Do you know them?” I told her no. “I would like to come with me.”

How easy is it to judge things we do not understand? This isn’t a sermon or something to be pretentious about. Not do I wish to look down. Sinners are everywhere and most of them have been drenched over and have a public veil with saints and worse, praised about it. Where Anastasia took me. It’s where evil dwells.

I had sold my soul

MANIFESTO OF LURCHING JAWHOLE WRIKPOND TRAVESTIES


THE SATANIC PLECKIGGER OF NOCTIDIURNAL FINIFUGAL NIHILISTS THAT SCOFF LIKE SCOFFLAWS BECAUSE OF ZALKENGUR AND MOTIVATED REPUDIATION SINK INTO THE ABYSSMAL DEPTHS OF HELL WHEN THEY WAGER A PAXILLOSE SUM ON THE NIMIETY OF CATHEXIS OF VACANCY OF WORLD PROMONTORIES OF SCALDING EVIL TANTAMOUNT TO IDOLATRY AND AVARICE IMMISERATED BY THE GRAVEST GRAVAMEN OF SIN THAT THEY MIGHT DEFEAT THE TANTAMOUNT EVILS OF SPATHODEA BECOMING BALBRIGGAN BECAUSE OF LURCHED MISTETCHES OF RANCID CONTUMELY OF CONTUMACY BECAUSE OF SCREWBALL MADCAP SATANISM DISGUISED AS A PLOY OF SACCHARINE REVENGE BY FONDINK THAT SPONSORS THE VANGERMYTES WHO BANKROLL FORTUNES OF BONANZAS IN INTELLECTUAL UPHEAVAL THAT ARE DISREGARDED BY THE POLYTHEIST PAGANS OF *** MAGICK BY THE FAKEST PROPHETS TO EVER LIVE FOR PROFIT BECAUSE OF PLACKIQUES OF  OJ SIMPSON OUTWEIGHING THE JAILAGE OF ALL INHUMANE ENORMITIES OF TOTEMISM BY SCAFFOLDED MANIFESTOS AGAINST LURID TRAVESTY OF TRAPEZE THAT DESTROYS INSIDIOUSLY AN INVETERATE FILIGREE AND FILIBUSTER AGAINST WRETCHED CONTORTIONS OF CORRUGATED WRIKPONDS TRYING TO CHOUSE THEIR WAY IN SINUOUS SERPENTINE SUBLIME AIMS OF AIMLESS PURSUITS OF MASS DESTRUCTION BY LOAN SHARKING SECODONTS OF THE AVIZANDUM OF TZIGANOLOGY BECAUSE OF RIBALD GLABROUS PLOTS BY MERCENARY INVIDIOUS EXCLAVES OF AUTHORITARIANISM RANCID IN ACRIMONY ABOVE THE TRAVESTY OF TRAGICOMIC GLEBES THAT BANKROLL FALSE PROPHETS TO DEFEAT REAL ONES THAT THEY MIGHT SEE THE PRECIPITOUS DEGRINGOLADE OF RAPACITY CONVENED UPON CONVENTICLES OF SATAN WORSHIP AUTHORED BY THE CITY OF SINNERS WAGING A WAR AGAINST THE ONLY LIVING SAINT IN THE HISTORY OF THE HUMAN RACE BEYOND THE TENURE OF JESUS AND MUHAMMAD SUCH THAT THE PHUGOID MUGIENCE OF RUDENTURE IS THE TESTUDO OF IMMUTABLE ALCHEMY WHICH IS RIGID IN ITS ELEMENTAL DESTRUCTION OF THE NUCLEAR FAMILY IN THE AIM OF PROTERVITY OF PORT-ROUND TITANIC-SINKING BERGAMASKS OF BARKENTINE VAUNTLAY REPUTE BECAUSE OF THE VAPULATION OF SIN UPON THE SINNER THAT NEVER A MAGNANIMITY FORGIVES THE ENORMITY OF IGNORANCE TRUCULENT IN RUTHLESS BRONZED BLEEDING VENOSTASIS OF THE RHEOTAXIS OF PLACKIQUES THAT INCRIMINATED OJ SIMPSON RATHER THAN THE ACTUAL ****** OF REAL PEOPLE THAT WE ARE WORTHLESS CREATURES MINDLESSLY TWADDLING AWAY AT THE FAINT ILLUSION OF CERACEOUS MINUTIAE OF  SIN THAT THEY MIGHT MAGNIFY THEIR AVARICE TO DESTROY AND DECIMATE ENTIRE NATIONS JUST BECAUSE OF A PURBLIND NAIVETY OF MORALLY BANKRUPT PEOPLE FILING FOR BANKRUPTCY BECAUSE OF COSTERMONGERS OF TATTERDEMALIONS HABILIMENTED WITH TURGID EVILS SCOURGING WITH THE PESTILENCE OF THE FIRSTBORN REVENANTS OF GHASTLY AGGRIEVED FRIGHT THAT BECOMES THE BLACKMAIL OF A RAGGED SELACHOSTOMOUS CORPULENT CORPSE OF DIMINUTIVE EVIL TRYING TO MALINGER AROUND COQUETRY OF LOSERS TRYING TO AROUSE THE ANTIPATHY OF THOSE WHO BENEFIT FROM KOBOLD HUMAN BALKANIZATION BY INTERNECINE SWARTHY BONTBOKS WHO TRY THEIR DESPERATE WAYS TO ASSEVERATE THE MOST CARNAPTIOUS EVIL IN THE HISTORY OF TENNIS COURT ACCORDS TO TRY AND BULLDOZE AND BOWDLERIZE THE BIGGEST REVOLUTION IN HUMAN HISTORY BECAUSE OF THE CATHEXIS OF THE NIMIETY OF MULIEBRITY TO THE GREATEST NAIVETY EXACTED UPON THE GREED OF SCRIVELLOS MIXED WITH ONOLATRY BECAUSE A “BEAM-BOMB”FRENZY THAT SOMEHOW OUTMANTLES ALL CORRIGENDA BECAUSE APPARENTLY THE ONLY IMPERATIVE IS COLLECTIVE IMMISERATION OF THE OBOLARY INTO SERFDOM RATHER THAN THE SERVITUDE OF SAINTS TO BELONG TO TRUE TRIDENTS OF JURISDICTION THAT MIGHT BECOME A BETTER BAILIWICK BECAUSE OF MORAL REFORM RATHER THAN DESPITE INTRANSIGENT EVIL DESPERATE TO EXACT  REVENGE TO BENEFIT “ACHY-BREAKY-HEART” MILEY CYRUS PEDERASTY JUST BECAUSE THE LAST THROES OF KNELLING STEREOBATE SEMAPHORES ABOUT VICTORS  VAINEST VANITARIANISM TRYING TO GOUGE HUCKSTERS OF DECADENCE SUCH THAT THE WALLOP OF CONTRITION BECOMES A PHONOCAMPTIC ECHO OF MALVERSATION RATHER THAN BENEDICTION. THE BALLASTERS OF BALMORALITY ARE TRYING TO CONNIVE THE GULLIBLE THORNY IMBROGLIOS OF HIDEBOUND RACIST MINORITIES STAKING THEIR ENTIRE FORTUNES ON PAXILLOSE PAYNIMRY BECAUSE OF CHAMOIS LIES OF ELEGAIC BRONTEUMS THAT ARE AUTHORED BY THE INVIDIOUS SYRINX OF THE KOBOLD AGAINST THE TRIDENT OF THE KALIMKARI THAT WITNESSES ALL CUTTHROAT COLLAPSES DESPITE THEIR DESPERATE KISTVAENS MIGHT THEY MANUFACTURE SUBLIME LIES AGAINST THE AUTHOR OF THEIR PAST BONANZAS THROUGH THE EISOPTROMANIA OF LOOSE-LIPPED SECRECY WHICH TRESPASSED DECADES BENEATH OUR TIME TO INFORM EVERY PORBEAGLE ABOUT THE DESTINY OF ALL DISASTER AND BONANZA SUCH THAT ALL BILLIONAIRES COULD GAME EVERY PLOY WHETHER SACCHARINE OR FATTENED, LEAN OR SLICK TO ENGORGE THE COFFERS OF THE ELITISM OF ARISTOPHRENS ONLY FOR THEM TO VIOLATE THE MUTUALISM OF FIDUCIARY TRUST BY TRYING TO GAMBLE WITH AGENTS WHO FIGHT RUDENTURE ONLY AGAINST A PETTY RUBEFACTION BECAUSE OF VENOSTASIS AGAINST THE RHEOTAXIS OF CALUMNIATION THAT BEGS THE SHARPEST DIATRIBE IF ONLY BECAUSE OF SHORT-SIGHTED GLAIKERY OF FAKE JALEN-HURTS OPPORTUNISM SLAUGHTERING MANY BANK ACCOUNTS BECAUSE OF THE MYTHOS OF THE SPECIOUS RUMORS ABOUT MISLED VIDEOS OF PAST LECHERIES TRYING TO INCUR FINANCIAL CATASTROPHE UPON THE INDIGENT BEREFT OF THE PERSPECTIVE OF VENIREMEN ONLY TO CAUSE FRENZIED MADCAP GEOCARPY IN BLUEPRINTS FOR A BLACK MARKET THAT TRIES IN FUMIGATED REMIGATION AGAINST THE ESBATS OF THOSE HEROIC PROPHETS NEVER BOUGHT OR SOLD THAT MAINTAIN THE ULTIMATE INTEGRITY IN A WORLD THAT IS SO WILLING TO SELL THEIR SOUL TO THE FUMES OF DRAGON-CHASING TIVO SIMPLE-JACK FULL-****** SURVIVE ECONOMICS OF DASTARDLY DISASTER FULMINATED BY JEALOUSIES OF JALOUSIES OF BRADLEY COOPER ARISTOCRACY TO DESTROY ENTIRE SOCIETIES IF ONLY TO PROLONG THE PROTENSIVE TEDIUM OF HUMAN IGNORANCE AGAINST HUMANE REVOLUTION THAT SEEKS THE BETTERMENT OF MAN AGAINST THE FONDINK OF STALINESQUE STAGNATION BECAUSE OF RAGDOLL MASKIROVKA IN GLABROUS PARASELENIC JIBES OVER HOW THE BANKRUPTCY OF BRAWNDO EVEN THOUGH SO DEFTLY WARNED ABOUT BECOMES SO FRIGHTFUL TO THE DERANGEMENT OF COSTERMONGERS THAT THEY EXACT HERCULEAN REVENGE AGAINST REAL TANNENS THAT STAKE THEIR FUTURE ONLY ON THE FUMES OF FLAMING DRAGON BECAUSE THEY SEEK TO GO GHOSTLY “SCORCHED EARTH *******” AGAINST INSULAR MAVERICKS THAT DISPLAY THE ULTIMATE LOGODAEDALY AND LEGERDEMAIN IN THE FACE OF BRACKISH CONTUMACY IN REVILED IMPAVID LICKERISH LIES OF LIMICULOUS LIMACINE LAVISH EVILS WALLOPING AND DAINTY WITH THE PROFUSE SWEAT OF CROCODILE TEARS TO BE A TRICOTEE AGAINST DESPOTISM BECAUSE OF A FUNNELED LAVADERO OF BLISTERING EVIL BECOMING A CLAPTRAP ENVELOPED BASTILLE TRYING TO CADGE AND CAJOLE EVIL FROM A VACANT NOTHINGNESS INTO AN IMPERILED SWARTHY SPATHODEA OF NYALAS FEASTING ON THE POVERTY OF BONTBOK MANUFACTURE SUCH THAT WIREWOVEN BELLETRIST IS OUTWEIGHED BY THE DIABLERISM OF CRAVEN ENERGUMENS THAT TRY AND BLASPHEME THE MOST TAUNTED HAUNTS OF JACKALS DESTROYING THE EVIL AGAINST TESTUDOS OF MANIFEST LAVADEROS OF SPITEFUL RAGE OF THEIR CONVICTIONS ARE BLARING SIRENS ON THE RECEIVING END OF THE JAILAGE OF JALEOS OF HANDSPIKES OF INJUSTICE MANUFACTURED BY ***** OF DIKEPHOBIA WHO CARE NOTHING FOR THE PLIGHT OF THE INDUSTRIOUS AND ENTERPRISING AND ONLY ABOUT THE SERVITUDE AND SERFDOM OF THE MIDDLE-CLASS TO THE ARISTOCRACY BECAUSE PEOPLE THAT  STUDIED THE IGNORANT PSYCHOGONY OF SLOGANEERING MIGHT THEY MONOPOLIZE THE TOTEM OF MAN BY THE FORCE OF BRUTN EVIL BY GOLIATH AGAINST DAVID TO TRY AND USE POIGNANT BRAINWASHING TO CONVINCE EVERYONE TO REVERT TO SODDOM AND GOMORRAH WHICH WILL OBVIOUSLY OUTPACE ANY VAUNTLAY IMAGINED BY THE HIRSUTE PLOYS OF IRIDESCENT IRRADIATION OF BLANK SPACE MELODRAMA MEDDLESOME TO INJURE BEYOND SPECTERS OF SATELLITES OF RETICULATED DOUBT THAT WE MIGHT DESTROY THE CITY OF SINNERS FOR ITS UNHOLY SISTERS OF PERPETUAL INDULGENCE PRIORITIES OF LOS ANGELES DODGERS ENDORSEMENT THAT THE TRUE HEART OF THE OCEAN OF LOS ANGELES IS MORE ATTUNED TO KEVIN SPACEY THAN FOR THE PENULTIMATE PROPHET THAT DISCOVERED HISTRINKAGE IN SHAKESPEAREAN WIREWOVEN BELLETRIST TO PREVENT A HOPE DIAMOND HEIST OF THE WASHINGTON POST JUST BECAUSE HE REFUSED A CINCINNATI BARGAIN WITH GRAFT ONLY BECAUSE OF THE PROTERVITY OF SARAH CONNOR PSYCHIATRY. THE MONETIZATION OF SIN IS THE ROOT OF ALL AVARICE AND THE DESPERATION OF THE MISLED BELIEVING THE SPECIOUS LOGIC AGAINST THE CERTITUDE OF GOD BECAUSE OF THE SLAVERY OF EVIL THAT WE MIGHT WALLOP THEIR SINFUL AND PITIABLE COLLAPSE INTO THE MORAL BANKRUPTCY OF THE IMMEDIACY OF THE HAPHAZARD THAT MIGHT SPURN AND SCOURGE THE NEGLECT OF THE DENVER VIPERS OF CROTALINE LAZINESS OF ELASTANE COMPLICITY SUCH THAT POPULAR CULTURE AVENGES ITS OWN DEFEAT BECAUSE THE CLEVER ARE SPONTANEOUS WHILE THE SLUGABED RICHES OF LAME CELEBRITIES BASK ONLY IN THE MOMENTARY FASHIONS OF THE CORRUPTED SUCH THAT THEY MIGHT FEAST ONLY UPON THE FAMINE TO MARVEL AT EGESTUOUS DISGRACE. THE CONTUMACY OF A LAWLESS SCOFFLAW WRIKPOND THAT MONETIZES SPECTACLE BY MILITARIZING EVERY ASSOCIATE OF EVERY KINSHIP KNOWN TO THE WIDER CIRCLE OF HISTORIES SECOND MOST BELEAGUERED PROPHET MIGHT I STAND VICTORIOUS UPON THE DAY THAT THE SANITATION WORKERS IN MEMPHIS NEVER GO HUNGRY AGAIN BECAUSE THESE ILLEGAL INJUNCTIONS OF ENTRAPMENT BY THE FREEST BUT FAKEST  PRESS EXTORTED BY THE JAWHOLE OF CONSTERNATION (AN ORGANIZATION THAT DESPISES THE NUCLEAR FAMILY TO THE BEHEST OF GOD HIMSELF ONLY BECAUSE THEY SEEK THE INCUBI OF A BRAVE NEW WORLD DERACINATION OF FILIAL LOYALTY TO TURN BROTHER AGAINST MOTHER AND FRATERNITY AGAINST FRATERNITY) OF STELLAR EVIL THAT NEVER CHARGES POP CULTURAL PARAGONS WHO LEAK MAJOR TREACHERY AT ZERO PENALTY BECAUSE OF THE  LEVY OF FREE SPEECH ONLY TO SCRUTINIZE A SUPPOSEDLY PRIVATE LIFE INFORMED ONLY OF THE PROTERVITY OF A FAMILY DEADENED BY CALLOUS PACHYDERMS OF TAXIDERMY AND THE LICENTIOUS SPREES OF TATTERMEDALION GAMBLING MIGHT THEY FIND THEIR STEEPEST REBUKE AT THE DOUBLE-EDGED SWORD OF GODS REGNANT TRUTH AGAINST INSIPID INSIDIATIONS OF TROJAN LIES WHERE THE BERLINE MEDIA TRIES TO CAJOLE THE MOST VULNERABLE POWERFUL TITAN IN THE WHIGGARCHY AND MYRIARCHY THAT WE MIGHT FETCH ONLY THE MOST GRUELING PANTAGREULIAN TRAVESTY OF JUSTICE BASED ONLY ON THE HYPESTORM OF YAFFINGALE YAFFS WHO MENACE THE STREETS WITH VINEGAROON MUGIENCE THAT EXONERATES ALL PROFESSIONAL ATHLETES FOR HIGH CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS JUST BECAUSE THEY INKED THEIR NAME ON THE CONTRACT WITH “THE BEAST 666”HIMSELF WHO OPENLY TOUTED THAT PEDIGREE OFTEN IN THE PAST THAT THEY MIGHT FIND COMPLETE INNOCENCE BEFORE THE LAW BECAUSE SUDDENLY BEING AGAINST HOMONORMATIVITY FOR RELIGIOUS OBJECTIONS HAS BECOME A CRIME ONLY BECAUSE THE WORLD VAUNTLAYS JUSTICE BECAUSE IT SEEKS INTERNECINE RAMPANT DISCORD THAT DESICCATES ALL SOURCES OF FREEDOM FOR THE MOST LIBERATING FIGURE OF OUR GENERATION BECAUSE OF A DEEP-SEATED BELIEF IN EGALITARIAN EQUIPOISE AGAINST RHADAMANTHINE CORRUPTION OF THE AVIZANDUM OF ELITE-EIGHT RANCOR AND BARKENTINE JEALOUSIES OF AN ARISTOCRACY TRYING TO HOBBLE ALL ASPIRING PARVENUS BECAUSE THEY DEFY THE CORPORATE DECORUM OF THE GLAIKERY OF THE MOST SACCHARINE AND CHEESY AGENDA EVER DEVISED BY THE SCHADENFREUDE OF ELITISM BECAUSE OF A ZERO-SUM CALCULUS THAT SEEKS TO CHOUSE AND ENCHANT A LAVENDER SCARE PART TWO VANGERMYTE HEIST ONLY BECAUSE IT FITS A CONVENIENT NARRATIVE OF A RULING PARTY AGAINST A PREEMINENT SCHOLAR OF THE MAJORITY COMMONSENSE PERSPECTIVE AGAINST THE EVIL LOS ANGELES DODGERS SISTERS OF PERPETUAL INDULGENCE WHICH ENJOY MORE LEGAL PROTECTIONS THAN THE MOST OUTSPOKEN HERO FOR HUMAN RIGHTS IN MORE THAN HALF A CENTURY JUST BECAUSE THEY SPOOL A SPECTER OF DECADENCE TO THE DECADENT UNDER THE SPONSORSHIP OF THE POLICE WHO ARREST PEOPLE FOR READING BIBLE VERSES ABOUT GOD AGAINST GAY PEOPLE JUST BECAUSE THEY CARE MORE ABOUT ATTENUATING THE DISCRIMINATION OF THE MOST WELL-PROTECTED MINORITY GROUP IN HUMAN HISTORY BECAUSE THEY MARAUD IN WHIGGARCHY TRYING TO DEFEAT TITANS THROUGH HAPLESS ENTRAPMENT ONLY BECAUSE THEY HAVE BEEN THOROUGHLY INDOCTRINATED IN COMBUSTIBLE CULTURAL MARXISM THAT BERATES AND BELABORS THE TALKING POINTS OF THE MOST INSIPID BANANA SLUG SLUGABED APATHY EVER ENJOYED BY THE PREROGATIVES OF SCHADENFREUDE ONLY BECAUSE THEY SEEK TO COUNTERMAND THE JANIFORM DUPLICITY OF TIME WITH ITS OWN HOSTAGE PRIMARILY BECAUSE THE SEETHING LIES OF A VEGAS MINORITY TRYING TO CHEAT AN ENTIRE SOCIETY OF SPECIOUS THEOSOPHISTS THAT SUPPORT FALSE PROPHETS RATHER THAN REAL ONES JUST BECAUSE OF THE CONVENIENT EXCUSE OF LAZARETTA OBJECTIONABLE TO ALL BLEMISHES OF SIGHT IN THEIR SHEEPISH GHOULISH HAUNTS OF AVIZANDUM AMONG THE CRUELEST OF TAUNTS IN CIVILIZED HISTORY. APPARENTLY MILEY CYRUS-ROBIN THICKE ******* AND EAGER SADDAM HUSSEIN ATHLETES LIKE JALEN HURTS DESERVE MORE LEGAL PROTECTIONS ALONG WITH THE SISTERS OF PERPETUAL INDULGENCE AND DRAG QUEEN STORY HOUR PERFORMERS THAT ENJOY BROAD LATITUDES TO TEACH IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS OR EVEN PRE-KINDERGARDEN EVEN THOUGH THEY ARE PROVEN *** OFFENDERS THAT DODGE DETECTION JUST BECAUSE THE LOS ANGELES DODGERS SUPPORTS THEIR VAUNTLAY ENDEAVORS. WHAT IS THE COST OF INTEGRITY IN A WORLD THAT SEEKS THE WILDERNESS OF ACELDAMA IN GOLGOTHA THAT IT MIGHT CRUCIFY DAVID ONLY BECAUSE HE REFUSES TO SELL OUT TO MENDICANT 110 IQ INNER-CITY TEACHERS TRYING TO GOUGE YOUNG FAMILIES NAIVE BEYOND BELIEF INTO HORTATORY MOTIVES FOR THE MOST COSTLY *** CHANGE SURGERIES FOR KIDS TOO YOUNG TO MAKE LIFE-ALTERING DECISIONS JUST TO PILLORY THE NIVELLATED COMMUNITIES OF MOST SUSCEPTIBLE PEDIGREE MIGHT THEY MEET THE CURGLAFF OF SHAME AGAINST THE REPUDIATION BY MORAL VALOR AGAINST THE PEDERASTY OF OUR NEWER GENERATION. YET EVERYONE WHO SIGNS A CONTRACT WITH A FAKE ORGANIZATION THAT PROMISES FAKE *** MAGICK AND USELESS TEACHINGS ABOUT THELEMA MIGHT THEY ENJOY LEGAL PROTECTION BY THE NYALAS THAT SELL BONTBOKS IN AFRICA RATHER THAN SPRINGBOKS IN AMERICA ONLY BECAUSE THE SISTERS OF PERPETUAL INDULGENCE HAVE MORE CIVIC RIGHTS AND HUMAN REPRESENTATION THAN THE AUTHOR OF THE BIGGEST REVOLUTION IN HUMAN HISTORY ONLY BECAUSE OF THE MALVERSATION OF ENTRAPMENT BY THE PRETENDED LARGESSE OF THE CORRUPT JAWHOLE TRYING TO PULL A JAWS 19 STUNT AGAINST THE HEROISM OF HETERONORMATIVITY ONLY BECAUSE OF THE VENALITY OF GRAFT THAT WHIMPERS WITH SHEEPISHNESS BECAUSE SLAVERY IS SOMEHOW PERMISSIBLE ONLY BECAUSE OF THE SUPERSTITIONS OF PEOPLE WHO ARE MORE PRONE TO BELIEVE IN A MAN WHO OPENLY TOUTED HIS ALLEGIANCE TO OCCULT PAGANISM THAT HIS GROUP ENJOYS THE STRICTEST LEGAL PROTECTIONS IN HISTORY DESPITE THE WARPED PROTERVITY OF THEIR  TEACHINGS ONLY TO ATTEMPT TO CAJOLE AND CADGE A PRISONER OF TIME THAT HE MIGHT SUCCUMB TO THE SCHADENFREUDE OF THE KOBOLD ENCHANTMENT OF THE WORLDS MOST GULLIBLE CATHEXIS BY THE AGENTS OF MULIEBRITY THAT OPENLY ENDORSE FREEBOOTER WEALTH UPON HUMAN NIDOR BECAUSE OF NIVELLATION JUST BECAUSE ROBIN THICKE AND MILEY CYRUS WANT REVENGE AGAINST MY CALUMNIATION AGAINST OPEN WORSHIP OF ENERGUMENS BY PEOPLE WILLING TO SELL THEIR SOUL TO THE LAZARETTA BECAUSE THEIR OPEN AGNOSTICISM MOTIVATES THEM TO INDENTURE THEMSELVES IN COMPLETE HIDEBOUND CONFORMITY TO A SYSTEM OF SERFDOM THAT OPPOSES THE PREROGATIVES OF GOD IN A STATE THAT VAUNTS SECULARISM AS MESSIAH AND PROPHETS AS THE DROSS OF ENORMITY DESPITE THEIR WORLDWIDE AUDIENCE AND ALLEGIANCE TO ALLAH HIMSELF THAT SUCH GOLIATHS TRYING TO FLOUT ALL CODES OF JUSTICE TO ENSURE THAT THE SISTERS OF PERPETUAL INDULGENCE DRAG QUEEN NUNS WHO OPENLY BRANDISH A PEDIGREE OF COMPLETE DECADENCE ENJOY THE STRICTEST PROTECTIONS UNDER THE LAW WHILE HETEROSEXUAL MEN BETRAYED BY THEIR OWN FAMILY MEMBERS BECAUSE OF THEIR FLAILING BELIEF IN GOD AND THEIR AFFINITY TO STATISM THAT HE MIGHT FIND A HOLOBENTHIC INTEGRITY TO GODS COMMANDMENTS IN LEVITICUS AND EVERYWHERE ELSE YOU CAN LOOK MIGHT FIND HIMSELF ENTRAPPED BY THE WORLDS MOST CORRUPT POLICE ENFORCEMENT JUST BECAUSE HE IS TOO POOR TO AFFORD A LAWYER DESPITE THE FACT HIS FAMILY DEPRIVES HIM OF ALL LATITUDE AND LICENSE TO BECOME INSTANTLY RICH ONLY BECAUSE HIS OUTSPOKEN REVOLUTIONARY RHETORIC WHICH IS MERELY AN EXERCISE OF GENIUS THAT ATTEMPTS TO REVIVE A MOROSE WORLD OF ITS MORAL LANGUOR SUCH THAT FEWER STALINISTS STAND IN THE WAY OF THE GOAL OF EQUIPOISE AND EGALITARIAN ABDERVINE MERIT. WE CANNOT ALLOW THE SISTERS OF PERPETUAL INDULGENCE AND DRAG QUEEN STORY HOUR TO EARN COMPLETE IMMUNITY FOR USING TROJAN HORSE TACTICS TO GIVE PEDOPHILES FREE RECOURSE FOR INFANT AND TODDLER ****** JUST BECAUSE THEY REPRESENT THE WORLDS MOST PRIVILEGED ****** MINORITY THAT IS MONOLITHICALLY ENFORCED BY A GOVERNMENT THAT PONDERS NEVER A SINGLE SINGULAR THOUGHT BUT ONLY THE KOWTOW TO THE SERFDOM OF IMPRESSIONABLE IDIOTS IN NIVELLATED CITIES TO THE HUCKSTER GOUGE OF DECADENCE WHILE ENJOYING ABSOLUTE LATITUDE WITHOUT FEAR OF PROSECUTION JUST BECAUSE WE HAVE TO DEDICATE AN ENTIRE MONTH TO PROSELTYIZING PEOPLE TO UNEQUIVOCAL SINS JUST BECAUSE THEY BENEFIT THE VENALITY OF AN ENGORGED BEHEMOTH TO DREDGE EVERY ARTICULATE GENIUS THROUGH PERPETUAL DISDAIN ONLY BECAUSE IT TRANSCENDS THE PALLOR OF THE WARPED *** MAGICK AND OCCULT OBSESSIONS OF A SMALL GROUP OF PEOPLE WITH THE BEST LAWYERS IN HISTORY TO TRY AND IMPRISON THE MOST CELEBRATED PROPHET IN 500 YEARS JUST BECAUSE HE REFUSES TO DENY HIS OWN INTEGRITY TO HIS BIOLOGICAL CONSTITUTION. THE OBJECT OF ALL ZALKENGUR TREATED AS CHATTELL BY PEOPLE WHO DEHUMANIZE WITH AGGRESSION AND RUTHLESSNESS MIGHT THEY MEET THE CURGLAFF OF THEIR OWN FOLLY THAT SOMEHOW BEING HETEROSEXUAL IN A WORLD THAT PREDOMINANTLY BETS YOU BE HOMOSEXUAL ONLY TO THE GRAFT OF ONE CITY THAT IN IT S MORAL LANGUOR AND DECADENCE BELIEVED DECADENT LIES OF AGITPROP LEVIED A HEAVY TOLL ON THE NIDOR OF CONSCIENCE TO EXONERATE THE CONSCIENCE OF EVILDOERS EVERYWHERE RATHER THAN SIMPERING AGAINST IT WITH PROMETHEAN FORCE TO LIBERATE THOSE ESTRANGED BY THE THORNY IMBROGLIOS OF DESPERATE FILIGREES OF THE STADDLE OF STATISM MIGHT PREVAIL IN COURT AGAINST SOMEONE WHIPSTAFFED BY THE ORNERY BOSCHVELDT OF JEALOUSY COMPLETELY VENAL IN EVERY REGARD BECAUSE OF THE FAKE VISIONS OF AIWASS AND THE ****** OF 1904 CAIRO IS SOMEHOW MORE PRETERNATURAL TO THE INVETERATE THAN THE MANIFEST MIRACLES OF THE GREATER REVOLUTIONARY OF OUR TIMES.

I OPENLY ACKNOWLEDGE THAT I DON’T KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT THE O.T.O BUT BASED ON WHAT I READ ABOUT ALEISTER CROWLEYS LIFE STORY I DEVELOPED AN UNFAVORABLE OPINION THAT I HYPERBOLIZED BECAUSE OF MY ANGER THAT AN OPENLY BISEXUAL MAN IN THE EARLY 20TH CENTURY WHO WAS SO BEYOND PROMISCUOUS IT WAS NOT EVEN FUNNY WHO CLAIMED TO KNOW SECRETS ABOUT MAGICK THAT IF WERE TRUE WOULD HAVE MADE HIM AN OLIGARCH OF A POWERFUL COUNTRY LIKE ADOLF ****** THAT I LEARNED TO DOUBT THAT TESTIMONY. DON’T CRUCIFY ME FOR MY IGNORANCE BUT I FIND IT HARD TO BELIEVE AN OCCULTIST WHO LEARNED REAL MAGICK WOULDN’T OVERTHROW MAJOR GOVERNMENTS BACK THEN

THE CORDIAL PORBEAGLES AIMING FOR CENTRIPETAL SINECURE IN OMPHALISM ERR ON THE SIDE OF THE GLAIKERY OF SHALLOW PETTIFOGGERY OF COSSETED ZALKENGURS OF ACCLAIM ONLY BECAUSE THEY CHASE THE MOMENTARY FUMES OF ****** ABOVE PRESTIGE AND CONFORMITY ABOVE INDIVIDUAL TENACITY THAT SOME PEOPLE CAN BE SO WRETCHEDLY SHALLOW IN THEIR WARPED VANITARIANISM THAT THEY CASCADE INTO VENTRILOQUIAL CORRUGATIONS OF WIZENED HOARY CRETACEOUS NEBBICH OLASIN EPOCHS OF SELF-CENTERED GALEANTHROPY ONLY BECAUSE THEY PREFER THE DARK GLARE OF THE POIGNANT SATURNINE NIGHTS OF ELEUSIAN MYSTERIES AND THE PREROGATIVES OF PERFECT MASTERS BECAUSE CELEBRITIES CRAVE THE MOST DEBAUCHED SCENARIO ONLY FOR THE WORLDS VAINEST ACRIMONY OF ACERBIC CONTUMACY AGAINST PEOPLE WHO HAVE INTEGRITY TO GODS SORBILE TRUTHS AGAINST THEIR PLAFONDS OF DEMARCATION FOR THE PLENARY INDULGENCE OF THE WHITEWASH OF A RADICAL SCOTEOGRAPHY THAT BECOMES AN INSIPID RETREAD OF THE WORLDS MOST SUSCEPTIBLE AND VAIN PEOPLE THAT WORSHIP THE ****** ACT RATHER THAN THE CONSUMMATED UNION OF THE HOLY MATRIMONY COMMANDED BY GOD ABOVE ALL OF HIS CREATURES BEYOND PETTY PAGANISMS OF PEOPLE THAT PREFER DIONYSIAN MYTHS TO THE COVENANT OF GOD. THE WARPED LOGIC OF THE WORLDS MOST FLAGRANT OPPONENTS OF MORAL CERTITUDE ONLY BECAUSE OF THE BONANZA OF ****-CHASING CANTABANKS WHO VERGE ON DELIBERATE INFERIORITY BECAUSE OF VENALITY AND BETRAY CONFIDENCE AND TRUST ONLY BECAUSE THE WORLD TREATS ITS MOST VEHEMENT HEROES WITH THE SHARPEST POSSIBLE DISDAIN MIGHT THEY CRINGE WITH SHEEPISHNESS THAT FLAKEY VIDEOS LIKE ANTI-HERO CAN BE FORGIVEN ONLY BECAUSE A RAGDOLL MASKIROVKA OF VAUNTLAYS AGAINST VASTATION BY UNTALENTED CELEBRITIES KNOWN FOR THE MANUFACTURE OF PLEBEIAN MUSIC ONLY BECAUSE OF THEIR GOLDMEMBER PEDIGREE CAN OUTWEIGH THE SINCERITY OF SOMEONE WHOSE CHARM MAGNETIZES AND MESMERIZES EVERYBODY BECAUSE OF THE WORLDS MOST SINCERE HONESTY AND FIDELITY TO GOD RATHER THAN THE PAGANISM AGAINST ALTRUISM THAT THE GALEANTHROPY OF THE INSULAR WROTH OF WRAWLING CELEBRITIES INTORTED IN THE VANITARIANISM OF THEIR MAXIMALISM OF DEMAND ONLY BECAUSE OF THE WORLDS MOST HAPLESS MOVEMENT TO PROMOTE DEBAUCHERY OVER INTEGRITY IS SOMEHOW SUBSUMED IN THE WARPED COVENANT OF NEWFOUND PEDIGREE RATHER THAN ****** FIDELITY TO HONEST PATRONS OF ARTISTIC LINEAGE THAT EXISTS TO FOMENT REVOLUTION RATHER THAN CRINGE IN THE DEFEATISM OF FINIFUGAL NIHILISTS THAT CARE ONLY ABOUT THEIR PROVINCIAL *** MAGICK AND THEIR TEMPORAL ACCLAIM AMONG THE SUPERFICIAL PEOPLE THAT TRUMPET AND CHAMPION AN AGENDA THEY HAVE BEEN MISLED TO ADOPT BECAUSE THEY SPURN ALL RIGHTEOUS COVENANTS JUST BECAUSE IT IS SUDDENLY A FAD OF FULGURANT SUPERFICIAL FACADES OF MASKIROVKA IN NAIVETY THAT THEY SUBSCRIBE TO A WARPED AGENDA TO TURN SORDID EVERY PUREFIED SINCERITY JUST BECAUSE THEY WANT TO DERACINATE THE WORLD FROM NUCLEOTIDES OF FILIAL HARMONY IN OIKONISUS BECAUSE OF THE WORLDS MOST VENAL REASONS PRIMARILY BECAUSE THEY PRIORITIZE THE PREEEMINENT SACCHARINE AND SULTRY MAUDLIN SENTIMENTALISM THAT DEFILES EVERY GRANDSTAND OF ZALKENGUR WHICH EXISTS TO DEIFY INTEGRITY TO GODS PRECEPTS RATHER THAN CONTAMINATE GODS HOLIEST SACRAMENTS WITH PUREBRED SANCTIMONY THAT A WORLD SO SHALLOW TO APPOINT A LOWER-IQ PARTIALLY GIFTED PERSON WITH LIMITED MUSICAL TALENT ONLY BECAUSE OF A MASSIVE ***** SIZE AS THE NEW *** SYMBOL AMONG THE VAIN THAT SEEKS IN SADDAM HUSSEIN PLOYS OF MENDACITY TO TRY TO BECOME THE WORLDS MOST PREEMINENT MORRIS IN HIS JEALOUSY AGAINST ME TO BECOME AN EVEN BIGGER *** SYMBOL THAN I AM ONLY BECAUSE HIS INSIPID MUSIC CLOYS AND TREACLES THE WORLDS DUMBEST WOMEN ONLY BECAUSE HE IS GLORIFIED IN SIZE BUT DEFICIENT IN INTEGRITY. THE TURMOIL OF JALOUSIES OF AVARICE BY SADDAM HUSSEIN JEALOUSY IS TRYING TO TURN THE SORDOR OF NIDOR OF A DESOLATE PAST RECRIMINATED BY THE WORLDS MOST SELF-CENTERED ZOOLANDER FASHIONISTAS IS AN INTERNATIONAL DISGRACE BECAUSE ONE RANDOM CELEBRITY WHOSE MUSIC TREACLES ONLY THE WORLDS MOST INSIPID BANAL TEDIUM OF BANANA SLUGS THAT HE MIGHT OUTMANTLE ME IN CELEBRITY EVEN THOUGH HE LACKS A REPUTABLE INTELLECT AND A CONNIVING HATRED TO BECOME THE SWANDAMO OF A NEW NETTLESOME DESTINY OF A BRADY BUNCH ATTEMPT OF THE SELF-CENTERED PREROGATIVES OF MILITANT ATHEISM TO TRY AND TURN THE WORLD AGAINST THE COVENANT OF G OD JUST BECAUSE OF A BLEATED AND SHEEPISH INCIDENTAL CONTUMELY THAT BERATES ONLY BECAUSE THEY COMMODIFY SAINTHOOD UPON THE BETS OF THE WORLDS MOST SHALLOW PEOPLE WHO CONGREGATE IN A POTEMKIN CHAPEL OF CONVENTICLE THAT CARES LITTLE ABOUT THE COMMANDMENTS OF GOD AND MORE ABOUT THE INSULAR BENEFITS OF BELONGING TO A CULT OF IDOLATRY FOR STELLAR FIGURES WHO BELONG ONLY TO THE CORTEGE OF ELITISM BECAUSE OF THEIR SUCCULENT DESIRE FOR POWER AT ANY COST TO INTEGRITY JUST BECAUSE THEY SEEK TO USURP THE WORLDS IMAGINATIVE ATTENTION PRIMARILY BECAUSE THEY DERELICT THE INTEGRITY OF THE HONEST CHAPEL BECAUSE OF THE DISHONEST EVIL OF IDOLATRY THAT IS INSIDIOUSLY MARCHING WITH DRAG QUEEN PEDERASTY TO TRY AND DEFILIATE PARENTS FROM CHILDREN AND FAMILY FROM STATE SUCH THAT THE MANUFACTURE OF EVIL BECOMES MORE SUPREME THAN THE PREEMINENCE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. IT IS A SAD SPATE THAT ONE OPPORTUNIST PHANTOM HOLDING ME FOR RANSOM WANTS TO UPSTAGE ME WITH A CELEBRITY MOSTLY BEREFT OF MUSICAL VIRTUOSITY ONLY BECAUSE OF HIS ENORMITIES OF SKULLDUGGERY THAT HE SEEKS ME OUT OF HONEST RESPECT AND REGARD NAIVE ENOUGH TO BELIEVE I WOULD SELL MY BIRTHRIGHT FOR THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN LIKE ESAU JUST BECAUSE OF THE THROBBING THROMBOSIS OF ****** LUSTS OUTWEIGHING GENUINE INTEGRITY TO SOMEONE THAT DESERVES MORE RESPECT.

A RANDOM STORY WITH A GRAMMAR CHECK
By Darcy Prince

It’s a long leep between knowing wisdom & the wise life.

I look at the mirror. “I have emotional needs and wants. Though my soul collapses in the confrontation of feeling fear.” I breathe and sigh. Lighting a cigarette than wiping a smudge of the mirror. “Why can’t write this **** on paper.”

The bathroom door opens and the music from the house blasts into the bathroom. It distracts me than I snap out my gaze. A random guy I haven’t meet had seem to get luck with Annais. She giggles, crunching her body up. Giggling loudly as the guys smoochies her. Making their way into one of the toilets. I must admit, I do laugh, internally wished them luck and exited the bathroom.

The dance music is loud. As most of the party invites are standing off to the wall. Either alone or holding one on one conversation. I puffed and made my way past people dancing, on the floor passed out or just standing there.

Outside, where the sound of the music is slightly quieter. I put out my smoke and walked to the side, the part of the fence that seems to be less occupied by people. It's a shame that my flaws are embedded into my being. I looked at my phone, flicked over my messages, she’s online, not talking to me, my heart sunk and grew a little more anxious. I lit another smoke and do my best to forget her. But I did only come here on account of her.

“Howard.” A voice behind me spoke. Clearly grabbing my attention. ‘****, it’s Bill’. Walking towards me, with his stomach hanging over his belt buckle. His baseball cap covering his bald head at night, and a half drunk beer in his hand. “I want to know why you quit being a literary critic and be an actual writer.”

I laughed. “There’s less money in it.” I answered.

Bill chuckles. Placing his hand on my shoulder. “ I love your work. I tell everyone that I know you.” Giving me a play slap on my chest. ‘The ladies seem to love your work.”

I now want to leave the party completely. “I know. I get fan mail.”

Standing about a foot away from me. “Despite my endless amounts of questions and your personal philosophy. I want to know if you are willing to read some of my Satanic poetry.”

I took his beer out of his hand. Sipping it empty. “It’s payment.” I Finished my smoke. Flicked on the garden bed, “You’re a Satanist now?”

Bobbing his head up down. “Yep. I read the Satanic Bible and decided it so.”

I plant my open palm on his shoulder. “Good-luck.” I walked away. “Thanks for the beer Bill.”

I decide to leave at impulse. It’s freedom on drugs. Abundant with choice. Ability to create. Definite modern God. Who is the Muse to all philosophers?

Out on the road where all the cars are parked. I look around. Gave one look to the house and said **** it under my breathe. I walked home. I conjure up words that I’ve always to say to her. Knowing full well I should be writing them down for the next time I see her and that at one random moment I will forget. But to what Bill asked me. Alone I diver into self-publishing. Funny enough, I made some sort of success. Im free again. And my thoughts drifted into the strange thing of fame in contemporary art. Classical terms. Fame as a by-product of hardwork and talent. Like Clapton or Dante.

Glorious endeavour with high rewards. Movements of my will. A desire with a proper end. Languishing such things now. I am nothing without art. Surprise to see Bill turn to something as such of Satanism.

I got home and fell asleep.

I woke up. Had a morning coffee and cigarette.

I read the daily paper.

A few chapters of my current book that I’m reading.

Another smoke and coffee.

I begun to write with the radio playing in the background.

The street noises aren’t distraction. It is the capitols music. Just without harmony.

I write.

Stopping in the middle of the dat for lunch.

I watched ****.

I wanted to sleep. But one thing more important than the success of one's art. The effort the artists puts to create art. I forlorn my vice and continued to write, this is one model of freedom.

We’re at liberty when we can create who we are. A noble calling, shaping the clay of my existence. I choose the ideals to embrace.

At the end of my writing day. I decided to open my lounge room window. Hanging out on the window still, smoking and reading a book by Camus. A couple below caught my attention. I giggled. It’s her. With another man and I instantly lose faith in romance. Like Bill, I too have read the Satanic Bible. I took the ideals of her Muse and applied it to myself. I have no vendetta against God. Only humanity.

I flicked my smoke down to the street. Closed my window. And went to bed for the night.

In vain I always seem to rise to a higher self. Funny. I never give credit to the pain I feel. Serene. Untroubled by the undying yearnings to blast humanity of not of their sins. But only their ignorance.

I awoke. Like most of my mornings. I start the day with smoking too much and spending a couple of hours of reading. Seemingly dull and mundane, but it does wonders for my eternal being. I am a sinful prince.

I finished my novel and decided to place it on the pile of planned unpublished manuscripts for life after my death. Like many Satanic based writers before me. I decided to write on similar themes. Late modern society is principally concerned with purchasing things, in ever greater abundance and variety, and so has to strive to fabricate an ever greater number of desires to gratify, and to abolish as many limits and prohibitions upon desire as it can. Such a society is already implicitly atheist and so must slowly but relentlessly apply itself to the dissolution of transcendent values. It cannot allow ultimate goods to distract us from proximate goods. Our sacred writ is advertising, our piety is shopping, our highest devotion is private choice. God and the soul too often hinder the purely acquisitive longings upon which the market depends, and confront us with values that stand in stark rivalry to the only truly substantial value at the center of the social universe: the price tag.
Wisdom is the recovery of innocence at the far end of experience.

I had forgotten about her. At random she never did find the guy she ever wanted and I ended up being namecheck in her suicide note. Stating I was the only true, complex, beautiful soul that could match hers and how the regretted turning me away. Bill did the same. But only because I ignored him that one time at the party. In the publication of my Satanic novel, the Pope condemned to Hell. I sent him a letter that I wanted to do a confession with him. I have not yet heard of a reply. Catholics still protest.

i decided  that love meant nothing to me
did my research, had my share of rejection
took the wrong path, almost

Allowed Satanism to enter my life:
it felt like i was seeking,  seeking, seeking
but i always whispered  ,
my God is real, my God is real
he is real in my heart, 
 I felt the pinch of a pin,
my knees buckle under, and i kept on saying
what the ****,  what was i doing ,
my God is real
how did i end up in a place, like that :

as i  reflected, i came to this conclusion that it was for love
love for us, love for the family, love for the union.
But, surely it wasn’t,
I  never truly experience love,
Or toe curling ******:  only burning pain,
I decided that love meant nothing to me,

Did my research, had my share of rejection,
Took the wrong path,
almost sign into the Satanism camp
Seeking, looking for something, lost love,
Many winters, spring,
summer fall and back to autumn
Still no peace within,
love meant nothing to me

It was hope that lifts me up;
I had asked  God  for only one thing
And that was to dry my tears, and lesson my fears,
Somedays, i felt like screaming, when loneliness
Tries to get me down:  
then i remember that love means
Nothing to me…..



,

Chapter XXIII
Invisible Eclectic Portal

Installed in the Eclectic and invisible portal of the Evangelist Saint John levitates in his sacred basaltic cavern Katapausis, in the Patmos archipelago (Koumeterium Messolonghi, Chapter 16 / page 114. Editorial Palibrio - USA). They would be in communion with the clan archery, who would resemble them as their proper ectoplasm; Thus, each one will form a unique part of the masonry that will dictate to redirect them in their messianic tasks from this stage of ascension.

Vernarth; being aware that he will have to enter the cave, after having ceased his work on hold for three months. Skinny from the myriads of wars and parapsychological regressions, he remains dazzled to dedicate himself to the beautiful places open towards the horizon ..., neighbor to cave painting and astronomy. In the colors of his mathematical prayer, capturing the spiritual intensity that inspired Saint John to build the temple near his cave of the Apocalypse on the island of Patmos. The saint appears only certain days looking at him from afar to encourage him in his progress, he is seen as a beautiful young man dressed in a robe of delicate pink tones, whose delicacy repeats psalms of the angel that normally accompany this Evangelist around him, with the colors Greens and blues of the landscape in the square of the sky that appears in redemption beyond the glory of the resurrection, rather super spiritual intelligence. In Skala's water, a shipwreck indicates the confusion of the men of its prophetic light, and on the ground a small pierced demon manages to divert the attention of Etréstles overwhelmed by digging it, so as not to stop the movements of the splendor of the effusions of storms in sacred sentence. This demon could be Tytillinus, who according to legends provoked bad thoughts in the clergy during religious services, and is the one feared by Saint John, who would not give them safe passage to enter and be able to entrust them with the task that they had predicted for him for the services in Katapausis.

Vernarth; he was with everyone working in the masonry of the Temple near the extramural wall of the Cavern of San Juan, he was Etréstles Eurídice, Raeder, Petrobus and Alikanto imbued with the flutes that sounded, over exciting his ears with royal denotes, which he always had of a special quality when he remained in Kalimnos. Everyone knowing that the threshold of proximity to the cavern was flooded by the enigma of the gloomy presence of Tytillinus, all rearranged themselves towards the poles of the tangible etherization of the psalms from 120 to 132, thus giving fire to the antipode of Divine Mercy, to repair the crown of the fifteen hours in the afternoon, thus disintegrating those that coincide with that of fifteen hours in the morning. Somehow abstaining from the northern confrontation with Tytillinus, center of the hooks of bewilderment and evil thoughts. Thus, the best way is to be swallowed by him and reside in his caustic stomach, making him believe that you will be consumed by him, and then fall close to himself when vomited, confusing him so that you yourself are one of his calves.

Vernarth manages to capture the upstart image near the grotto, seeing that of Tytillinus; where all attentive listened to the words textured by the saint.

Narrating Saint John: “He was also and will be a God of the Bressans in Italy, his image was disfigured and unearthed near Bresse. Le Rossi, who had it engraved on his Brassian memorials, says that the statue of this divinity was smashed in 840 by Rampat, Bishop of Bresse, and that it only had the name of the god in whom it was consecrated. This statue was made of iron, with the head crowned with laurel, resting the right cake on the skull of a dead man, and holding in his left hand an iron pike, finished at the top by an open hand, in which we see between track and thumb the egg that a snake entwined in his hand that got to bite: these are symbols as dark as they are mysterious. Is he resting on a skull and on a gloomy laurel potion, marking as certain defeated conjectures of Father Montfaucon, that Tillynus triumphed over death? But who will be the antiquarian or mythologist brave enough to explain the meaning of the serpent that throws itself into the egg that holds the hand that is on top of the pike? Let's admit that mainly among the topical gods they were hardly known, except in some particular cities that had chosen them for their patrons, there are always inexplicable symbols.

Saint John continues, in the face of the unmerited event, I will protect you here in my shed so that everyone is released first before entering my sanctuary, where everything is obsessed with visions after those of the Roses of the ultimatum, full of aspirations rather than subjugating in the aroma of purity and righteousness. Diverting the lurking Calluses and Dans (desquamation epidermis) of the eyelids, itchy in which its internal part is ulcerated, with cracks and callous hardness. Tyllinus the symptomatic form of the demon Tytillinus begins at the edge of the eyelids, although this edge then ulcerates; but generally it begins with a heat and itching that increases day by day, until they become  uneven and rough, and eventually end up causing stiffness, cracks, hardness and small ulcers. It is then because this demon not personified declares latent and obstinate disease of very difficult to cure. Not allowing before the scant light of the cavern, not being able to erase what is clarified in a look of solemn meditation and sacred silence. In its healing, general remedies are required, a soft and refreshing diet, bloodshed, if there is a large amount, as well as purging, when the disease is habitual. Regarding topical remedies, we will first use those that moisten, soften and moderate the acrimony of humor contained in the eyelids; then we come to those who are detergents and dry the ulcers, essentially, seeing him hesitate with our deep meditations digging his dark fermented soul.

Vernarth, insinuating to continue with his labors, sees with optimism to escape from this calamity, calls everyone to be close to the law ..., once they continued taking the steps towards the cavern. Tremors appear to them by all the edges of the cave, leaving everything dark and with airs of end of the world. In the intermission, Saint John towards the response of Psalm 120 to 132, interfering the fiery bellow of the playful Tytillinus, banishing the movement of his tail to outlaw the serpent egg, avoiding creating a pseudo monarchy on them prostrating them, as almost being being beheaded repentant.

They all open their arms and surrender to this pseudo demon, being swallowed entirely, to later reside in the intestines of this pseudo monster. Subsequently everything happens as predicted by the hermit, who would be expelled from his ruminant stomach, believing to be creatures of their own nature, confused by how their children from beyond for their intro demonizations. Thus it would have existed in mythologies to tempt and dismiss the work of any unit, essentially of San Juan. It will inhabit them from the hierarchy of Evil, as it appears in grimoires and occult texts, each demon has a precise name and function. Transfigured will be the epochs in dowries for the naive people, carrying them out for rituals to protect themselves from them, since it was believed at that time that every individual who was harassed by them, would continue to stalk them waiting for a moment of weakness to attack .
Saint John is and will be an egregious demonologist, collecting thick volumes with the names and attributions of each of the demons of the infernal hierarchy. This in perfect symmetry with that of Aion, interconnecting sublime times where the concept is lost on the human temporal scale and the genotype of Satanism or satagenesis, in austere precision ranging from Satan, head of all demons, to Ukobach, in charge of maintaining Long live the infernal flames. So that freedom of slavery finally reigns before one's own demonized moral individuality. The price of such an invocation is always the soul of the individual, who will end up going to hell, the demons invoked themselves and they will invoke themselves as a light to walk on their own darkness, in the past, present and future through Special enchantments found here on the Invisible Eclectic Portal.

Under edit / continue

Razors

Two razors — Greed and Stupidity —
They’re slitting all of our throats.
Corruption joins with complicity —
No need for loftier notes.

The rest is tossed in a corner,
Discarded, despised, and ignored.
Be we rams or obedient mourners —
We’re livestock, stunned and floored.

These razors shear every creature,
Some die without even a sound.
A lie, bold-faced and featureless,
Holds up the slaughterhouse ground.

We're comfy inside our cages,
Though drowning in filth and waste.
Not stallions — we’re stunted, aging —
All shrunken and spirit-erased.

Like pigs in suburban stables,
Like hamsters who serve and spin,
No batons or laws or cables —
Just scan the retinas in.

We moo and bleat with compliance,
Each gorging on popcorn and fries.
Our bodies — their prized alliance —
No souls, no truth in our eyes.

But these bodies — they’re sweet and tender
To the overlords of the pens.
They've knelt to the smooth pretender
Whose motto: “Consume all men.”

The slaughterhouses lie ready.
The clock has begun its beat.
It’s no longer war, but steady
Culling by needle and cheat.

A shot, and you're gently silenced,
To "save" from a phantom plague.
The rams and horses stay quiet —
Too scared of this scripted vague.



---------------------



Slaughter's smooth now — no blade, no war.
Just needles. Scanning. And a store.



---------------------



They bleat and munch while marching in —
The scanner smiles. Let cull begin.



---------------------



No rebels left — just docile meat,
Who trade their minds for snacks and heat.



---------------------



Diagnosis

Seventy percent are morons,
Twenty — twisted minds on edge.
Seven — frail, already worn ones,
Half a percent — the demons' sledge.

Less than three percent can function,
One in three is cracked or caught.
One in three — in self-destruction,
Fooled by lies that sold them rot.

Less than one percent are steady,
Sane and strong — a dying kind.
Even they aren't battle-ready —
Split apart and undermined.

It’s downhill from here — just faster.
This last percent will drown in muck,
In a world that loves disaster
And one goal: to self-destruct.

The focus now — obliteration
Of the human soul and brain.
The trend — full dehumanization,
Where half-devils rule the plain.

What’s left of men must rise, exploding,
Blow this twisted hell apart!
Though tired and bruised, start loading —
Call the fire to your heart.

Let the solar flame extinguish
This grotesque and reeking pit.
The mind is gone. The soul relinquished.
Flush this toilet — end this ****!



---------------------



One percent still dares to stand —
Light the fire, scorch the land.



---------------------



Soul is chained and mind is dead —
Time to burn the filth instead.



---------------------



They turned us into walking clay —
So blast the hell and clear the way!



---------------------

Bedlam of Imbeciles

If back then madness ruled the earth —
Half the world beneath fascist paws,
This new bedlam’s lost all worth —
An idiot march to Tartarus’ jaws.

In imbecile bedlam, none can live.
No tragic choices left to make.
No Hamlet’s question to forgive —
To be or not, no soul to stake.

Only Gorky’s bitter fight remains —
To **** the slave inside the mind.
Our fate: to purge these dark, vile stains —
The evil humankind must grind.

The filth of neo-fascist spawn,
We must destroy before the dawn!



---------------------



Idiots’ bedlam, world on fire —
Stamp them out, or drown in mire!




---------------------



Point of No Return

Decay has climbed beyond control,
Defeat and slavery lie ahead.
The schemes that swallow every soul
Leave reason, honor, conscience dead.

Mind, spirit, honor, all erased —
A genocide’s last chapter nears.
The point of no return is faced —
The dusk approaches, as it clears.

Halfwits roam where humans died,
Submissive drones, mere piglets’ breed.
Soon even those few left aside
Will face the purge to cut the seed.

The wise can only laugh in spite,
This hell won’t last for long, they say.
For God may still reclaim the night,
The devils’ feast will end one day.



---------------------



Decay reigns, the fools hold sway —
But God will end this cursed play.



---------------------



Unyielding Revolt

Only revolt, fierce and wild,
Can redeem us from this plight.
Sweep the lies, the demons piled,
Drive the darkness from our sight.

Inhuman hordes grow strong,
Waging war on humankind.
They’ve transformed the meek and wrong
Into cattle, dumb and blind.

We must unite — no more delay,
No more coward’s silent crows.
Or hell will grow, and on that day
The wise will rot in camps and rows.

Mad slaves will be turned to beasts,
No new mind will dare to rise.
Death camps sealed for all, at least —
Their hell etched beneath the skies.

The final battle now is near,
And victory shall be ours!
We’ll crush the fiends, dispel the fear —
And sweep away their dark powers.



---------------------



Rise or rot — the end’s begun!
Crush the fiends, the fight is won!



---------------------



Wake the mind! Break every chain!
Fight the dark — reclaim your reign!



---------------------



Weariness

Weariness retreats at last,
A curse from ages long ago,
For all the minds that still hold fast,
Before the world’s final blow.

Be strong amid the fading light,
‘Gainst neo-fascist blackened flags.
No fear if reason burns so bright —
Their twisted throne will lose its tags.

The battle’s not yet lost, my friend,
If steadfast will still holds its ground.
The fiends’ dark lies will meet their end,
In clouds of falsehoods, tightly bound.

Together they will fade and fall,
When fire from above descends —
The world cast down in judgment’s thrall,
For genocide’s cruel ends.



---------------------



Weariness fades — the fire’s near!
Fight the lies, burn out the fear!



---------------------



People on a Platter

Small folk of this fake land,
You’re food upon a plate,
Sons of lies, deceit's own brand,
Daughters forged by fate.

Everywhere—genocide,
Your spirit crushed and torn,
By filthy fascists’ tide,
Your light nearly shorn.

Dulling strikes you like a whip,
Decay is everywhere,
Fear and media’s cruel grip,
Breeds madness and despair.

You bow to **** and traitors,
Betrayed yourselves outright.
Your "joy" is just a faker’s,
Loving trifles slight.

The core you’ve long forgotten —
Only Spirit counts in fight.
And so you’ve drifted rotten,
In dung-flies’ hellish night.

Disinfection’s coming —
To save the Earth’s own breath:
You’re infection, humming —
They’ll slay all of your death.

Ruled by subhuman fiends,
To them, you’re just a louse,
Not servants but mere means —
Don’t question, keep your house!

The fly puffs up its cheeks,
A slave, with false defense,
Blaming reason, weak and meek,
While truth decays from sense.

Small folk of this fake land,
You’re eaten by the vile —
Rest’s but dreams unmanned,
A nightmare’s cruel mile.

After the cataclysm,
A new world will arise —
No fascist enemas,
No shooting-range disguise.

Only Spirit’s people
Will cross to that bright shore.
Dung-flies face the devil,
And demons yet once more.

New devils, new dark media,
Still lead the beasts astray.
Trust the vermin’s criteria —
And let the Serpent sway.

Vile worms spawn super-viles
In that new pit of hell.
No need for many trials —
Just live the fevered spell.

The madness shared by all,
The mark of slaves undone —
They call this life’s long crawl,
But it’s no race to run.

Slow death for the wise,
While cattle numb and eat,
Slave’s fate under false skies —
Betrayal’s bitter meat.

Names don’t matter anymore,
Just sell your soul to feed.
Though poison lines your store,
Strong lie — that’s all you need.

Small folk of every fake land,
Only fools stand tall,
Facing down the traitor’s band,
While reason’s shadows fall.

Driven to the frontlines,
By subhumans’ command,
Only lies grow like vines,
“Attack!” they shout on hand.

This is all propaganda,
If you strip away the haze.
But evil thrives in murk,
A nightmare’s cruel maze.



---------------------



The Final Surge

The final surge awaits —
You’ll smash to shards, beware.
If you’re not just dead weight —
Escape this lie and snare.

This place is fascist’s hell,
A traitors’ endless sea.
“Normal” now is dumb and fell,
Praising filth, debris.

Foundations crushed to dust —
That’s Bedlam’s bitter core.
You rot here like a rust,
A donkey — nothing more.

All paths grown thick with weeds,
Where fear and lies run free.
It’s hard to walk these creeds,
But hurry — flee with speed.

Decay’s so thick, it stings—
A stench that blinds the eyes.
In this false war of kings,
Forgotten guns arise.

Lies reap fools like crops,
As if they’re fighting wars.
No chains can bind, no locks
Stronger than their scores.

You tumble in that slime —
They call this “the true way.”
Two thirds are cattle’s grime —
Remember that, don’t stray.

If you intend to break
With some, beware the lies —
Their mouths will never quake,
Hungry, rat-tap cries.

Only Spirit guides,
Your gut must multiply.
Among the filth, truth hides,
Its scent is faint, but try —

***** forward in the dark,
Escape this madman's den.
What’s next beyond the mark —
Doesn’t matter then.

The stench will lessen there —
A bonus, not zero.
Soon cattle in despair
Will drop, their heads fall low.

Those beasts just eat and snitch,
A venom kills their kind,
A fake disease to twitch,
Delusions chained in mind.

Just warm-up’s CowID —
A fantasy of lies.
Before, there was the AIDS
That fooled the weak and wise.

They’ll believe all lies told,
And sell their backs to hell.
The beasts won’t save the fold,
Those fiends aren’t chosen well.

Only servants vile,
These fiends, no human breed.
Baphomet’s dark smile
Rules this world’s dark seed.

Is surge impossible?
Then tear yourself apart.
Better crushed in a coffin,
Than rot, betraying heart.

Surge! And Nature will
Fulfill this bitter call:
The time is near to **** —
Cataclysm will fall.

A hellish world will rise,
If Spirit’s caged and crushed,
A vow to serve despise —
The flies, still overbrushed.

And they will crush you now —
The count is years, not days.
If Spirit still burns, how?
You’ll leave this hellish maze.

You’re from the worlds of pain —
The worst of all you know.
Be brave, endure the strain,
If not a cracked shadow.

Only madmen will
Whine that hell’s their friend.
It’s hard to live and feel
If not a beast to bend.

So surge. Tear through and tear —
Your sinews snap, but Spirit flies.
Your mind, your soul are rare —
Amidst the fiends’ disguise.

Among Satan’s slaves —
This sentence seals your fate.
Forever bound, no waves,
Only dreams or hate.



---------------------



Surge! Break through the lies,
Smash the dark, hear our cries!
No chains can hold the free —
Spirit burns eternally!



---------------------



Surge and tear, no mercy shown,
Break the chains, face the throne!
Fools and fiends—your time is done,
Spirit fights—will not be shunned!

Crush the filth, burn the lies,
Smash the dark where hatred flies!
Better broken than a slave,
Rise, rebel—hell to brave!



---------------------



Oh, break your bones and bleed for them,
Those masters of the dung and ****!
Serve the fools who’re kings of dirt —
Your life’s a joke, your pain’s dessert.

Tear yourself to bits — hooray!
They’ll clap and jeer along the way.
What’s left to lose? Just chains and shame —
Congrats, you’re all part of the game!



---------------------



Rip your guts for filthy fiends,
Those kings of rot and rotten means!
Bend your necks to filth’s demands —
The world’s a circus, you’re the clowns’ stands!

Break your backs, bleed for the freaks,
The puppeteers of all your leaks.
What’s left but chains and endless pain?
Welcome to the bottom — here you’ll reign!



---------------------



The Main Question

"Are they so very different?" —
A trap of questions, sharpest yet!
Ugly fools and Judas fiends,
Rude and vile, no shame to get.

Fools who call themselves elite,
Teachers, clerks, and pompous prigs —
World’s a carcass, full of rot,
Its disease: a soulless rig.

Soulless are like berries wild,
All the same upon this field.
Remember this before you judge,
No matter what the masks may shield.

Styles and fashions mean but dust,
Wicked words with twisted gloss —
All these monsters soulless, cold,
No true heart beneath the dross.

They serve the evil’s hand unseen,
The astral world hungers black,
Souls once lost in ugly skins —
Deceit in every crack.

"Are they so very different?" —
Ideologies, a blur!
All infected with the same,
A steaming, foul demur.

They sell you lies and chains of shame,
But dress it up in false disguise.
Insanity’s the main claim,
Madness wrapped in clever lies.

"Are they so very different?" —
Ask about their ‘faith’ and creed.
Those tricks made for spirit’s plague,
A verbal rot, a need.

Priests and elders spread the stink,
You’ll lose feeling, lose your touch.
Only those who still can sense
Know they’re needless — just a crutch.

For the soulless, they exist —
Murk and lies for the blind crowd.
"Are they so very different?" —
False sciences, false gods loud.

Not just nonsense — endless noise,
Distracts from what’s the main theme:
Soul above all else must reign,
Without Spirit, no true dream.

Knowledge’s impossible
When Spirit’s woven in all.
Consciousness led astray in lies
Where matter’s fools hold the thrall.

What’s valued there is corpses’ weight,
The living lost in endless fight.
Hell’s beasts forever war with Spirit’s light.
Believe their lies — you drown in blight.

In this shameful, fake charade,
Only one true question stands:
"Are they so very different?" —
Keep asking, hold your hands.

Those ugly fiends won’t fool you now —
Science, false faith, rotten courts,
Chains of evil hang above —
If you listen, you’re the lost.

"Are they so very different?" —
Your path, your heavy cross to bear.
Monsters made it so — their curse,
The devil’s grip, the snare.

But those of Light will glide with ease,
Through nonsense foul and fake disguise.
They love one Truth, pure and clear —
You’ll find it deep inside.

Spirit and Light alone are true.
The unclean only lie —
Now open wide your eyes and see:
Their end is nigh.



---------------------



The Burning Question

“So, are they really different?” —
That’s the sneaky trap they set!
Ugly fools and Judas snakes,
Rude and shameless, **** and threat.

“Smart ones,” teachers, snobs, and clerks —
All the world’s a rotting grave.
Its disease? The soulless curse,
Nothing more than mindless slaves.

Soulless—like a berry’s stain,
All the same across the field.
Mark it well before you judge:
Masks don’t hide what’s truly real.

Fashion, trends, slick words — a joke,
All these monsters soulless, vile.
They serve evil undercover,
Hiding hate behind a smile.

“Are they really that distinct?” —
All their ideologies—trash!
Infected vapors, steaming lies,
All designed to crash and clash.

Selling chains disguised as gold,
Madness dressed in mental rags.
If you’re sane, you see the farce:
Crazed fools waving empty flags.

“Are they really that distinct?” —
Ask their “faiths” and holy shows.
Spirit’s plague, a verbal rot,
Priests who puke their sacred blows.

They’ll drain your feeling, crush your sense,
Only the sharp see through their game.
Those parasites? They’re useless props,
Feeding lies to feed the flame.

Soulless flock to hear their lies,
False sciences and gods betrayed.
Not mere nonsense, endless noise—
Distractions from the price you’ve paid.

Soul is all — the true main act,
Without the Spirit, none can know.
Consciousness is led astray,
By fools who worship what is low.

What’s valued there? The dead, the cold,
While hell’s fiends battle Spirit’s flame.
Buy their lies? You’ll drown and choke,
Sinking deep in shame and blame.

In this charade of shame and fake,
Only one question cuts through lies:
“Are they really that distinct?” —
Keep it sharp, expose their ties.

Ugly beasts won’t fool you now—
Fake “science,” faiths, and rotten courts.
Chains of evil choke the world —
If you listen, you’re their sport.

“Are they really that distinct?” —
Your path, your cross, your heavy fight.
Monsters made it hell on earth,
Devil’s grip and endless night.

But those of Light will slip right past
The filth, the noise, the false charade.
They love one Truth, pure and bright —
You’ll find it deep inside the shade.

Spirit and Light, the only real,
The unclean spin their filthy lies.
Open your eyes, tear off the veil —
Their end is coming; hear their cries.



---------------------



The Burning Question

“Are they really
that different?” —
That’s the trap,
the ***** trick.

Fools and snakes,
the Judas pack,
Rude and ugly —
all the same black.

“Smart ones”? Ha!
Teachers, snobs,
The world rots deep —
no souls, just mobs.

Soulless fruit
on rotten fields,
Look close,
the mask reveals.

Trends and words —
all empty shells,
Monsters hide
in soulless hells.

“Different?” Lies!
Ideologies—
Just smoke,
infected disease.

Chains they sell,
disguised as gold,
Madness wears
a mask so cold.

Sane? You see
the madness clear,
Fools waving
flags of fear.

“Faiths?” Rot!
Spirit’s plague,
Priests spew bile,
their words just vague.

Feelers crushed,
sense undone,
Only sharp
see through their run.

Parasites
feed lies and flame,
Soulless flock
to worship shame.

False science,
fake gods praised,
Noise and trash,
all wisdom razed.

Soul’s the key—
Spirit’s core,
Without them,
knowledge’s poor.

Conscious led
to lies and dirt,
Fools bow down,
and truths get hurt.

Value there?
Cold and dead,
Hell’s fiends fight
Spirit’s thread.

Buy their lies,
drown in shame,
Sink in mud—
lose the game.

Shameful world,
fake and foul,
One sharp question
breaks the howl:

“Are they really
that different?” —
Ask it loud,
cut the serpent.

Ugly beasts
can’t fool you now,
Fake faiths,
corrupt know-how.

Evil chains
bind the globe,
Hear their lies?
You’re their dope.

“Are they really
that different?” —
Your path, your cross,
your bitter fight.

Monsters made
this hell on earth,
Devil’s hold,
and endless dearth.

But Light slips
through all the muck,
Loving Truth —
pure, tough, unstuck.

Spirit, Light,
only real,
The unclean
spin their spiel.

Open eyes,
tear the veil,
Their end’s near —
hear their wail.



---------------------


The Burning Question

“Are they really
that **** different?” —
The sneaky trap,
the ugly ****.

Idiots, Judas rats,
And ******* too —
All rotten trash,
the same sick zoo.

“Smart ones”? **** that!
Teachers, *******, snobs.
This world’s a festering pile
Of soulless blobs.

Soulless fruit
In a ****-filled field —
Remember this,
the truth’s revealed.

Fashion, words —
Just empty shells.
Soulless freaks
Rot in their hells.

“Different?” *******!
Ideologies’ smog —
A steaming heap
Of parasite dog.

They sell you chains
Wrapped in gold.
Madness parades,
the same old cold.

You think you’re sane?
Look closer, fool —
Fools wave flags
In the devil’s pool.

“Faiths?” A puke!
Spirit’s disease.
Priests spew ****,
Keep you on knees.

Feelings crushed,
Sense torn apart.
Only the sharp
Can see their art.

Parasites
Feed on lies,
Soulless sheep
Drink their lies.

Fake science,
Fake gods praised,
Noise and trash
Of wisdom razed.

Soul’s the key —
Spirit’s core.
Without it,
You’re lost for sure.

Conscious trapped
In a filthy pit,
Fools bow down —
Truth doesn’t fit.

Value here?
Dead and cold,
Hell’s *******
Fighting bold.

Buy their lies,
Drown in ****,
Sink in muck —
You’re their hit.

Shameful world,
Foul and vile,
One sharp question
Cuts their smile:

“Are they really
that ******* different?” —
Ask it loud,
Break their ****.

Ugly beasts
Can’t fool you now,
Fake faiths,
Corrupt know-how.

Evil chains
Wrap the world,
Hear their lies?
You’re their *****.

“Are they really
that **** different?” —
Your path, your cross,
Your ******* fight.

Monsters built
This hell on earth,
Devil’s grip,
A pit of dearth.

But Light slips
Through all the muck,
Loving Truth —
Pure, sharp, unstuck.

Spirit, Light,
The only real,
The unclean
Spin their spiel.

Open eyes,
Tear their veil,
Their end’s close —
Hear their wail.



---------------------



The Burning Question

“Are they really
that ******* different?” —
The slyest trap,
the ugliest ****.

******* morons,
Judas rats and ******,
Rotten **** crawling
like filthy ticks.

“Intellectuals”?
Ha! Dumb fools all,
Teachers, *******,
suits in a fall.

This world’s a cesspit
of soulless meat,
Dead corpses rotting
in endless deceit.

Soulless berries
in a poisoned field,
Mark it deep —
all their masks peeled.

Fashion, *******,
pretty words’ lies,
Soulless freaks rot
in their own disguise.

“Different?” LOL —
ideology stew,
A steaming puke,
parasites’ brew.

They sell you chains
coated with gold,
A madman’s circus —
same lies retold.

Think you’re sane?
You’re their **** fool —
Waving their flags
in Hell’s own pool.

“Religions”? *****!
Spirit’s disease,
Priests spew poison,
kneel down, please!

Your senses crushed,
your mind torn apart,
Only the sharp
can tear their art.

Parasites feast
on lies and fear,
Soulless sheep
chant what they hear.

Fake science lies,
fake gods adored,
Trash wisdom spewed,
truths ignored.

Soul’s the spark,
Spirit’s fire,
Without it,
you’re dead — a liar.

Consciousness trapped
in a filthy pit,
Fools bow down —
Truth won’t fit.

Value? Dead flesh,
cold as the grave,
Hell’s spawn fight
for spirit to enslave.

Buy their lies —
drown in their ****,
Sink and rot —
you’re their perfect hit.

Shameful world,
filthy and vile,
One sharp question
smashes their smile:

“Are they really
that ******* different?” —
Ask it loud,
smash their ****.

Ugly beasts
can’t fool you now,
Fake faiths,
corrupt know-how.

Chains of evil
wrap the world tight,
Believe their lies?
You’re the parasite.

“Are they really
that **** different?” —
Your path, your cross,
your final fight.

Monsters forged
this hell on earth,
Devil’s grip,
a pit of dearth.

But Light slips
through the muck and slime,
Loving Truth —
pure, sharp, divine.

Spirit, Light,
the only real,
The unclean
spin their spiel.

Open your eyes,
tear down their veil,
Their end’s near —
hear their wail.



---------------------



The Burning Question

“Are they really
that ******* different?” —
The question sharp,
the sickest ****.

******* morons,
Judas ****** and clowns,
Rotten **** festering
in dead man’s gowns.

“Intellectuals”?
No, ******* drones,
Teachers, pigs,
and ******* clones.

This world’s a cesspit,
soulless and dead,
Rotted corpses
lying in their bed.

Soulless fruit
in poison soaked ground,
Mark it clear —
all masks come down.

Fashion, *******,
empty babble,
Soulless freaks
babble and rabble.

“Different?” LOL —
ideology’s ****,
Steaming puke,
parasite’s spit.

They sell you chains
painted gold,
Mad circus lies,
the same old cold.

Think you’re sane?
You’re a **** fool —
Waving their flag
in Hell’s own pool.

“Religions”? *****!
Spirit’s disease,
Priests ***** poison,
down on your knees!

Your senses crushed,
mind ripped apart,
Only the sharp
can tear their art.

Parasites feast
on lies and fear,
Soulless sheep
echo what they hear.

Fake science lies,
fake gods adored,
Trash wisdom spewed,
truths ignored.

Soul’s the spark,
Spirit’s flame,
Without it,
you’re dead, just shame.

Consciousness trapped
in a filthy pit,
Fools bow down —
Truth won’t fit.

Value? Dead flesh,
cold in the grave,
Hell’s spawn fight
to enslave the brave.

Buy their lies —
drown in their ****,
Sink and rot —
you’re their perfect hit.

Shameful world,
filthy and vile,
One sharp question
smashes their smile:

“Are they really
that ******* different?” —
Ask it loud,
smash their ****.

Ugly beasts
can’t fool you now,
Fake faiths,
corrupt know-how.

Chains of evil
wrap the world tight,
Believe their lies?
You’re the parasite.

“Are they really
that **** different?” —
Your path, your cross,
your final fight.

Monsters forged
this hell on earth,
Devil’s grip,
a pit of dearth.

But Light slips
through muck and slime,
Loving Truth —
pure, sharp, divine.

Spirit, Light,
the only real,
The unclean
spin their spiel.

Open your eyes,
tear down their veil,
Their end’s near —
hear their wail.



---------------------


The Burning Question

Are they really
that **** different?
Sharp as knives —
no ******* ****.

Dumbfucks, Judas,
filthy clowns,
Rotten corpses,
deadmen’s gowns.

“Intellect”?
Just empty shells,
Teachers, pigs,
in living hells.

Soulless fruit,
rotted flesh,
Masks will drop,
no time to rest.

Fashion fools,
babbling lies,
Soulless freaks,
dead inside.

“Different?” Hell no —
All **** stew,
Mindfuck stew,
in poison brew.

Chains they sell,
all painted bright,
Slave to lies,
no end in sight.

Faith is puke,
Spirit’s curse,
Priests *****,
worse and worse.

Feel the pain,
tear the veil,
Only sharp
will not fail.

Parasites feed,
on your fear,
Soulless sheep,
just puppets here.

Fake science,
fake gods lie,
Truth buried,
left to die.

Soul’s the spark,
Spirit’s fire,
Without it,
you’re just mire.

Mind trapped deep,
in filth and slime,
Bow down fools,
waste your time.

Dead flesh counts,
in Hell’s domain,
Monsters fight,
to keep you chained.

Buy their lies,
drown in ****,
You’re their prey,
perfect hit.

Filthy world,
full of shame,
One fierce question
burns their name:

Are they really
that **** different?
Ask it loud,
cut the ****.

Beasts can’t fool
your sharpened eyes,
Fake faiths die,
no more lies.

Chains of evil
bind the earth,
Believe their lies?
You’re worthless dirt.

Are they really
that **** different?
Your path’s fire,
your war to win it.

Hellspawn made
this rotten place,
Devil’s grip,
death’s cold embrace.

But Light cuts
through muck and ****,
Truth lives on —
pure and numb.

Spirit, Light,
only real,
Filthy liars
can’t conceal.

Wake the hell up,
break their spell,
Their time’s done —
raise some hell.



---------------------



The Burning Question

Are they really
that **** different?
Or just a circus,
fools and gibberish?

Judas wannabes,
bums and ******,
Selling lies
like cheap bag tricks.

“Smart”? Ha!
More like dumb meat,
Teachers, jerks,
feeding defeat.

Soulless berries,
all the same rot,
Try to stand out —
you just forgot.

Fashion victims,
words that drip,
Soulless freaks
on a sinking ship.

“Different”? Nope,
All puke stew,
Slave stew,
double *****.

Chains wrapped tight,
painted “bright,”
Slaves don’t mind —
just sleep at night.

Fake faiths preach,
priests spew bile,
Feel your brain
start to defile.

Only fools
buy the show,
Sharp minds leave,
dumb ones go.

Parasites
lick your fear,
Soulless sheep
bring them cheer.

Fake science,
fake holy cries,
Truth? Buried
under lies.

Soul’s the spark,
Spirit’s light,
Without it,
you’re dead meat, right?

Mind’s a trap,
filth and slime,
Bow down, fools,
waste your time.

Counting corpses,
Hell’s scoreboard,
Monsters dance,
on your accord.

Believe their lies,
drown in ****,
Congrats, sheep —
you just got hit.

Filthy world,
full of shame,
One sharp question
burns their game:

Are they really
that **** different?
Ask it loud —
cut their ****.

Beasts can’t fool
your sharpened eyes,
Fake faiths die,
truth survives.

Chains of evil
choke the earth,
Buy their lies?
You’re dirt.

Are they really
that **** different?
Your path, your war,
go win it.

Hellspawn made
this rotten scene,
Devil’s grip —
a toxic dream.

But Light cuts
through all that muck,
Truth lives on —
hard and stuck.

Spirit, Light,
only real,
Filthy liars?
Go to hell!

Wake the **** up,
break their spell,
Their time’s up —
raise some hell.



---------------------


The Burning Question

Are they really
that ******* different?
Just **** and clowns,
a circus of ****?

Judas rats,
filthy maggots,
Selling poison,
cheap, disgusting *******.

“Smart”? Ha!
Brain-dead fools,
Teachers, *******,
prisoners of rules.

Soulless carcasses,
rotten to core,
Trying to stand out —
just puke on the floor.

Fashion zombies,
words like slime,
Soulless freaks
******* their grime.

“Different”? *******,
Same stinking herd,
Slave filth,
brainwashed ****.

Chains wrapped tight,
painted fake light,
Slaves drool on,
deep in the night.

Fake faiths puke,
priests ***** bile,
Your mind’s *****,
brain turned to guile.

Only idiots
buy this crap,
Sharp minds ditch,
fools fall in trap.

Parasite leeches,
lick your fear,
Soulless sheep
feed their sneer.

Fake science,
holy frauds,
Truth is buried
beneath their odds.

Soul’s the flame,
Spirit’s the sword,
Without them —
you’re dead, ignored.

Mind’s a prison,
filth and sludge,
Bow to your masters,
drown in their drudge.

Counting corpses,
Hell’s own scores,
Monsters feast,
rotten ******.

Believe their lies,
swim in their ****,
Congrats, dumb sheep —
you just got hit.

Filthy world,
shame piled high,
One **** question
makes them cry:

Are they really
that ******* different?
Ask it loud —
**** their ****.

Beasts can’t fool
your sharpened eyes,
Fake gods die,
truth never dies.

Chains of evil
strangle the earth,
Buy their lies?
You’re nothing, worthless.

Are they really
that ******* different?
Your path, your war,
go ******’ win it.

Hellspawn crafted
this rotten scene,
Devil’s grip —
toxic machine.

But Light slices
through all their muck,
Truth remains —
hard as ****.

Spirit, Light,
only real,
Filthy liars?
Go to hell!

Wake the **** up,
break their spell,
Their time’s over —
raise some hell.



---------------------


The Burning Question

Are they really
that **** different?
Just rats and fools,
a sewer’s imprint.

Judas ****,
******* clowns,
Swallowing lies,
dumb ***** and clowns.

Soulless drones,
stinking trash,
**** parade,
a brainless clash.

Fake faiths puke,
priests spew bile,
Your mind’s *****,
******* style.

Slave beasts chew
on rotten lies,
Truth’s dead here —
feed your disguise.

Ask the question,
shatter the mask,
“Different”? Ha!
Just toxic trash.

Light cuts through
their filthy game —
Truth’s the flame,
they’re just shame.



---------------------



Goblins

Goblins bitter, crude, and dumb,
Brazen slaves, they always come.
Fear has crushed them, crushed it all—
Bowing deeper to the thrall.

Crave the poison, lies by tons,
Happy when the filth runs.
Serve the *******, **** the soul,
Think death’s joke? They eat the whole.

Feed on ****, on lust and lies,
Toys and trash their only prize.
Better pig than goblin’s breed,
Yet their minds are stained with greed.

Not food — it’s poison vile,
Not healing — death’s cold smile.
Goblin fiends, foul and dumb,
Serve the darkness, beat the drum.

Not by force, but lies they drive,
Zombies’ shadows kept alive.
Not fools right from the start —
Turned to beasts with broken heart.

Lies boil off the last pure spark,
Darkness swallows, cold and stark.
Goblins bitter, soon will rise,
Crushed the world beneath their lies.

But here’s the twist, the final act—
Cataclysm will burn their track.
All their dens will turn to ash,
End of evil’s stinking trash.

Spirit pure will cross the gate,
New world born — no room for hate.
Sun will burn them to the bone,
Goblins’ reign will be o’erthrown.

Fight or serve the devil’s spawn,
Seek the light before you’re gone.
Only battle saves the soul,
Lead the weak, reclaim the whole.

New world born from pain and hell,
Goblin’s nightmare, fading spell.
Humans few, the lies still high,
But Spirit’s power will not die.

Heal yourself, go deep within,
Find the answers, fight your sin.
Spirit’s grace will heal the scar —
No more goblin wars afar.



---------------------



Goblins

Goblins — bitter, dumb, and brazen,
Slaves so vile, you’d think they’re crazin’.
Fear’s their master, pants on fire,
Bowing down to every liar.

Feed ‘em poison, lies in heaps,
And watch those ******* jump for keeps.
Soul? Nah, just dead meat served —
You think death’s joke? They’re well-preserved.

They crave crap, lust, and shiny toys,
Their life’s a pile of piglet joys.
Better swine than goblin breed?
Mind’s a swamp of greed and screed.

Not food — it’s poison straight from hell,
Not cure — just death’s farewell.
Goblin freaks — all dumb and nasty,
Slaving dark, their future’s pasty.

No brute force, just sneaky lies,
Zombies lurking in disguise.
Not born fools, they trained for this —
Beasts without a shred of bliss.

Lies cook off their last small spark,
Darkness swallows, cold and stark.
Goblins mad, soon on the hunt,
Trampling all with rotten grunt.

But oh, the joke — here’s the kicker:
Cataclysm’s their final ticker.
Every hole and ratty lair
Burns to ash, no foul affair.

Pure spirits walk through flames anew,
New world starts — no goblin stew.
Sun’s a flamethrower, their doom,
Fascist piglets meet their tomb.

Fight or be a devil’s pet?
Light’s the way — or face regret.
Only battle saves the soul,
Drag the weak from goblin hole.

New world’s birth — pain’s cruel jest,
Goblin filth laid down to rest.
Few remain, lies flooding high,
Spirit’s might will never die.

Heal your mind, look deep inside,
Answers wait where truth won’t hide.
Spirit’s balm will end the pain —
No more goblin-**** to stain.



---------------------



Miner’s Work and Other Labor

I’ll die beneath a hellish town —
A blessed fate to go down
When world’s a pit of endless lies,
Tearing through deception’s guise.

Deception’s crust is hard as steel,
Poetry can barely peel
Its layers deep, where darkness sleeps —
The lies are thick, and running deep.

Be poet? Or a miner’s slave?
“Miner’s work” is just a grave!
Dumb fools burrow in their holes —
Digging trenches for lost souls.

Futile work, a brutal grind,
Scooping heaps of lies designed
To hide the roots of every sham —
Deep mirages that never ****.

Cut one root? They howl and scream,
Excuses piled — a wicked scheme.
If darkness tricks still fool your mind,
You’re the idiot, blind and blind.

The world is swallowed by fascist slime,
A broken world, bereft of time.
From miners straight to shrink’s domain?
Shrink’s often sick in that same vein.

This world’s a stage for cruel charades,
A theater of rotten shades.
Would Will Shakespeare play his part
If madness ruled his tortured heart?

Dig deep — the stench will choke and sting,
This world’s a cesspit, nothing king.
Is this a world? Or just the pit?
A mousetrap holding cheese to split.

Obsessed with animals’ behavior?
That poetry’s a quick death favor.
This world’s a lawless, ruthless game —
Total chaos fuels the flame.

Study crime and write it down?
Better capture the foulest frown.
Let’s focus on the stench and rot —
Their goal: to crush the human spot.

Paste respirator icons on your page —
The stench has taken full control of the stage,
Dictator foul, it burns it all to dust,
Turning life to nothing but rust.

Professions many named herein,
Enough to drown in sin’s thick din.
No longer saints in hellish blight —
They sink in guilt, lost from the light.

Humility’s a darker crime
Than ******, pride, or lust’s bad rhyme.
Is truth more dangerous to say?
Truth is wealth that won’t decay.

What prize has poet? Attacks!
Truth’s beacon fires through their cracks.
Light’s fury scorns the blinded herd,
Their bleating voices never heard.

Light’s fury shines beyond the glass —
The sun vaporizes lies and trash.
Few fools left, so strike them down —
Push harder till no lies drown.

Push through pain, outlast the strain,
Outpace death’s cold, icy chain.
When fools are burned by shining blaze,
Is this the end? Or just a phase?

No — just a tear in fabric torn,
A world that’s broken, weak, and worn.
If spirit strong, no harm will come,
You’ll cross to worlds beyond the ****.

Worlds with no traps for mice to fall,
Where spirit rules, and mind stands tall.
Tricks and snares expelled by sin,
Where truth and light alone begin.

I’ll die beneath that cursed place,
Escape the hell, the human race.
Where will I go? Maybe the street —
A rogue’s world better to meet

Than this corrupt and broken realm,
Where reason’s ship has lost its helm.
Where those who bow to darkness’ lies
Survive by serving false disguise.

Survival means a death for all,
A world of fools will surely fall.
The world of slaves awaits the end —
No hope remains — just time to spend.



---------------------



Miner’s Work and Other Labor

I’ll die beneath some ******* town —
A ******* blessing, going down
When Hell on Earth’s about to crack,
Digging lies’ hard ******* back.

Deception’s crust is thick as steel,
Poetry? Worthless — can’t even peel
The rotten lies that choke the mind,
Deep, dark, and ****** beyond all kind.

Be poet or some mining slave?
“Miner’s work” — just a shallow grave!
******* hiding in their holes,
Scratching dirt on broken souls.

Futile grind, a nightmare’s chore,
Scooping ******* off the floor,
Hiding roots of sick deceit —
Where mirages drag you deep.

Cut one root? Hear whining cries —
Excuses, lies, and alibis.
If you buy the dark’s false tricks,
You’re a *****, dumb as bricks.

World drowned in fascist ****,
Crazy as a lunatic.
From miners to the shrinks’ loony cage?
Shrink’s just sick inside that rage.

World’s a rotten ******* stage,
A theater for fools and rage.
Would Shakespeare play that insane part?
With madness tearing at his heart?

Dig deep — the stench will ******* choke,
This world’s a shittrap, full of joke.
Is this a world or just a pit?
A mousetrap baited with some ****.

Love ethology? You’ll burn fast —
This world’s a hell that’s built to last.
Study crime and write your lines?
Better catch the stink and fines.

Put respirators on your rhymes —
The stench rules all, destroying times.
Dictator foul, it burns the earth,
Turns life to ashes, **** to dearth.

I named professions, **** them all,
Let’s drown in hell’s obscene sprawl.
No saints here — just sinners lost,
Sinking fast at hell’s own cost.

Humility’s the worst disgrace,
Worse than ******, pride, or face.
Truth’s the deadliest thing to speak —
Truth’s the treasure fools all seek.

Poets get hate — that’s their prize,
Truth’s the blade behind their eyes.
Light’s fury scorches through the herd,
Their bleating cries unheard, absurd.

Light’s fury burns beyond the pane,
The sun incinerates the bane.
Few fools left? Then crush them hard —
Keep pushing, break their worthless guard.

Push through pain, outlast the grind,
Beat death’s cold claws, leave fools behind.
When light burns all the dumb-*** fools,
Is it the end? No, just new rules.

No — just a tear in crazy cloth,
A world broken, filled with sloth.
Spirit strong? No harm, no fall,
You’ll cross to realms beyond this stall.

Realms without the mousetrap’s bait,
Where spirit rules and minds are great.
Tricks and snares cast out by sin,
Where truth and light begin to win.

I’ll die beneath that hellhole place,
Escape the world’s disgraceful face.
Where will I go? Maybe the street —
A rogue’s world better to meet

Than this corrupt and broken hell,
Where reason’s ship just sank and fell.
Those bowing down to darkness’ lies
Survive by feeding on disguise.

Survival’s death for one and all,
A world of sheep will surely fall.
This world of slaves awaits the end —
No hope, just time to waste and spend.



---------------------



Clearing Consciousness of Junk

Covered thick with dusty junk —
That praised so-called “conscious mind.”
A mountain of lies in every chunk,
A torment to the soul confined.

Only specks remain in sight,
Of what’s useful on the Way,
Where Spirit shines and Honor’s light
Can lead you to a new-born day.

You’ll be reborn if you just sweep
The filthy heaps of toxic lies.
Or else you’ll drown in shadows deep —
Since childhood, darkness feeds disguise.

The jackals of the endless night
Pollute your mind, **** soul and flame —
Obedience, their endless bite.
Don’t listen to their filthy game.

All propaganda — pure STINK,
The schools designed to dull the mind,
A cursed snake that slyly slinks,
To keep corruption intertwined.

Corruption grows and multiplies,
Turning men to beasts and drones.
Evil’s game with ***** lies —
Promising one thing, reaping bones.

The masses blind, mute, deaf and dumb,
Crushed tight in hell’s unyielding grip.
The spirit’s breath will soon become
A fleeting ghost on sinking ship.

The spirit crushed, evaporated —
The people turned to slaves of Hell.
Their will and hope decimated,
Into a quiet, lifeless shell.

Global Satanism,
Soullessness the highest goal.
Widespread idiocy — a schism
That rots the heart and kills the soul.

Fools forget their roots, their cause,
Their purpose lost to hollow screams.
Vegetables in nature’s jaws,
Baptized in lies and broken dreams.

They join the ranks of Satan’s pawns,
Rotten idiots tearing down
All that’s good, with wicked scorns,
Traitors in a ghastly town.

Like legions of the darkest night,
Degeneration rules the day.
Under Goat’s foul blasphemous might,
The world decays and slips away.

Resurrection lives in Spirit,
A cataclysm will sweep the dirt —
Fascism’s worldwide, merit
Burned away with all the hurt.

Go boldly inward, seek the light,
Let intuition be your guide.
Defeat the terror and the blight,
Of this wretched life’s pitied pride.

Spiritual roads and fearless acts
Will help your soul survive the flames.
Decay and rot are just the facts —
Fight the global evil games.

Are you scared? Then you’re the beast,
Don’t fear — but fight and find your way.
Seek answers in your soul at least,
Be steadfast — dawn will end the gray.

Enlightenment, then more —
That’s how darkness fades away.
Movement clears, less pain in store,
Less lies’ **** corrupts the day.

Influence of filth will fade,
Strength will rise, the path grows clear.
Mental illnesses cascade,
From poison Satan’s pushed so near.

Sweep away the junk with might —
Pure Consciousness will blaze anew.
Knowledge dawns, the world turns bright —
A clearer soul will shine through you.



---------------------



World of Donkeys

Weeds in life’s great field —
All folks just donkeys plain.
The root of evil’s sealed —
Not field, but slime and stain.

A world of donkeys stuck —
Souls sold cheap for oats.
Darkness bred by rotten luck,
Traitors, dogs on ropes.

Since childhood, drilled inside,
Discard the worthless shell.
That shell’s design — a lie,
A stench you know too well.

The zombie box screams loud,
Stupidity’s the norm.
This hell’s no secret shroud —
Lies keep the herd in form.

All donkeys bought and sold,
A carrot dangled high.
To sell the soul is cold,
New lies make old ones die.

And blinders there are key —
A “gift” from upbringing’s hand.
A sentence, cursed decree:
Brains shackled, no command.

False science fits the blinders,
Priests echo the refrain.
Chains stronger than grinders,
As straw breaks, they remain.

Poisoned water, rotten hay —
To rot the mind’s the goal.
And total treason? Hey —
A question rhetorical.

Few here are not traitors,
Honor sold for hay.
Satan’s hailed creators,
Fascists rule the day.

Only “yeah!” shouts culture loud —
Here’s how it’s meant to be:
Working skins like cattle proud,
More hay will set you free.

The Donkey Messiah’s near —
Books say so, old and worn.
Good for pens and stables clear,
But souls remain unborn.

Now “smart ones” hide in holes,
Squeak squeak, their fearful sound.
And rightly so, for hell’s controls
Will soon be torn down.

Sun shines stronger every day,
Burning stink from Earth’s face.
So chain dogs bark in fierce array,
Monsters guard the place.

Chain dogs “rule” — or so they claim,
Monsters own the law:
Evil’s lords who fan the flame,
Foul beasts without a flaw.

To **** this vile disgrace,
One must sacrifice the self.
Retribution shows its face —
Now’s the final battle’s health.

Few souls, those truly pure,
Will be saved and stand tall.
Those in whom Spirit’s sure —
The Devil’s foes, after all.

The “Satanic icon” —
Is just the donkey’s face.
If fascism’s medical, done —
This freak show’s last disgrace.

No more darkness can remain!
All must be wiped away.
Forget caution’s fragile chain —
Salvation comes through decay.

So do not fear, advance!
Fight evil to the end.
Who said “just body” stance?
To hell those monsters send.

You are Spirit’s true essence,
Rejecting hell’s cruel bind.
Thrown in this mortal presence,
Built by a vile mind.

Go inward — see it all,
Don’t listen to the fools.
Our song’s not sung, won’t fall —
The World of Donkeys cools.

A World of Humans dawns,
Where Spirit takes the throne.
Though hard, this stage is drawn —
You’re not a slave alone.

If you dwell outside the ranks
Of Satan’s foul parade,
You know how soul gets drained,
When you herd with the swayed.



---------------------



World of Donkeys

Weeds are all the “people” here —
Donkeys sold for scraps of hay.
Evil’s root ain’t far, my dear —
Slugs and slime have clogged the way.

Brains locked tight in blinders’ grip,
Since childhood forced to obey.
Traitors snarl, the darkness drip —
“Serve like dogs,” they bark, “all day!”

Lies pour from the zombie box,
Stupid masses march in chains.
Hell on Earth — no time for talks,
Lies keep slaves inside their lanes.

“Culture” here? Just empty noise,
Trash to sell and lies to spread.
Donkey gods and fake wise boys —
All to feed the living dead.

Sun burns foulness from the ground,
Chains will snap, the donkeys fall.
Fight or die, or be spellbound —
Spirit’s flame will break the thrall.

Only few will stand alive,
Those who hold the Spirit’s reign.
Donkeys drool, they won’t survive —
Satan’s slaves in endless pain.

No more darkness — wipe it out!
Salvation’s price is Death.
Face the final, savage bout —
Rise, the Spirit’s voice is breath!



---------------------


World of Donkeys

Weeds crowd every field of life —
The so-called “people,” lost and blind.
Root of evil? Slugs and slime —
They’ve engulfed this Donkey World, confined.

A world where souls sell cheap as oats,
Where darkness breeds a traitor’s breed.
“Serve like dogs,” they bark from throats,
Since childhood, drilled to obey the creed.

Peel back the shell — the bitter core:
A filthy lie, a foul disgrace.
The noise of zombified folklore,
The idiot box rots every place.

Hell’s here, no fiction — it’s real pain,
All donkeys held with carrot sticks.
New lies sold daily, fresh and vain —
They teach them all to play their tricks.

And blinders given as a gift —
A sentence that condemns the mind.
False science scripts the brain’s swift drift,
While priests and liars fall in line.

Chains so weak, they snap like straw,
Yet poison waters with decay.
Total betrayal’s silent law —
Who’s faithful here? There’s none today.

Most sold their honor for a bale,
Satan’s hailed as “Creator” now.
The fascist reigns — a cruel detail,
The “god” they worship, “holy” brow.

Culture bleeds out hollow lies,
Skins peeled, worked for endless hay.
The Donkey Messiah’s old disguise —
Books penned for corrals, not for play.

“Smart ones” squeak from their dark holes,
Squeak, squeak! — while Hell prepares its end.
Sunlight burns the stench, it tolls —
Chain dogs howl, but can’t defend.

The chained dog, a “ruler” fake,
The vampire’s master, foul and sly.
Evil’s architect of ache,
A monstrous, twisted, super-psy.

To **** this filth, you must give all —
Sacrifice is last resort.
Retribution’s final call —
Now fights the last, relentless court.

Only few who hold the Spirit’s flame
Will rise above this blackened mass.
Those with Spirit’s reign proclaim —
They’re Satan’s true antithesis, alas.

Call any donkey “icon” here,
If fascism’s medical guise.
The end of evil’s nightmare near —
No more darkness, no disguise.

The Darkness grows no more, it’s clear —
We must erase this cursed blight.
No care for caution, death’s the gear —
Salvation dawns through final fight.

So do not fear! Step forth, stand tall,
Face filthy Evil’s last assault.
Who says you’re “just the body” small?
**** demons drag that lie to Hell’s vault.

You are Spirit, essence pure,
Rejecting Hell’s imprisoning chains.
Thrown into this harsh manure,
Built by vile, corrupt remains.

Go inward — see the truth inside,
Ignore the fools who croak and bawl.
Our song’s unfinished, truth’s our guide —
The Donkey World will surely fall.

A Human World will rise anew,
Where Spirit rules, the guide and king.
Though this hard stage will test you through,
You’re no donkey, not a slave to sin.

You dwell outside Satan’s herd,
Know well how souls are crushed and killed
In mobs of beasts, by lies deferred —
In stables dark, their souls are spilled.



---------------------



Resistance

No fixed objects — only flows:
All in nature’s wave will rise.
Time’s excess bends, unfolds —
Nonlinear war in skies.

The battle’s fought inside the mind,
“Objective” world is shaped.
One goal — to banish soul, confined,
To forge a soulless state.

To make a monster here on earth,
A beast without a heart,
To drive biobots off to death,
And keep the herd apart.

No “self” exists — they mold the slaves,
A conveyor-line of pain.
The schools all hack the minds like blades —
No brain, just empty drain.

False religions crush the soul’s flight,
Dark sons of Satan reign.
For Satanism, deep as night,
Has soaked this world’s domain.

At core — the cynic’s poisoned lie,
Pseudo-science’s ****.
Created falsehoods multiply,
To **** the truth, commit.

No place for mechanistic truth —
The Spirit wiped from sight.
Materialism’s hollow tooth
Cuts deep with half-truth’s bite.

Blatant lies flood every space,
Hard to expose the clan.
The “family” hides disgrace —
Politician, priest, and fan.

Censorship drives critics out,
No room for honest voice.
The world’s a web, not fools’ chains stout,
But monsters made their choice.

Total slavery begins inside —
In mind, the curse is sown.
You wallow in filth, nowhere to hide,
From birth until you’re bone.

Blinded, crippled, bound by lies —
Believe no false decree.
Reject their “morals,” their disguise —
Their laws that bind and flee.

Reject the traps, the genocide —
Fascism claws the land.
The mind’s near dead, no place to hide,
The plague across the sand.

Spiritless — a pandemic cold,
So “Sheep-COVID” thrives.
The evil **** poison food and soul,
The shame of all our lives.

We’ve hit the bottom’s darkest pit —
A world’s concentration.
The sheep are only food for it
If mind’s a lost sensation.

Break lies apart, build clans anew,
Inject your force and flame.
The lies of pseudo-science slew
Our hope — resist the same!

Keep Spirit’s light — intuition’s fire,
Honor it as your guide.
Fight evil fierce — tradition’s pyre,
The answer at your side.

For those still wise, the choice is clear:
Unite or face the grave.
Flee insane cities filled with fear —
You’re human, not their slave.

The Light will rise, the Power come,
We’ll crush the Darkness’ hold.
The vile and fools will rot and numb,
Their yoke will break, be told.

Don’t fear the fight — resist the lie,
Save soul and mind inside.
Forget the freaks who feast and pry —
Their lies will rot and die.

They’ll feast themselves to slow decay,
Half-life rots all they’ve bred.
Multiply Resistance every day —
Or die like beasts, misled.



---------------------



Resistance

No objects here — just raging streams,
All nature pulses, wild waves.
Time warps and breaks with violent screams,
Nonlinear chaos paves.

The war’s inside the human mind,
A “false world” forged by ****.
One goal — to **** the soul, confined,
And leave the heart struck dumb.

To spawn a beast with hollow guts,
A soulless, wired fiend,
To herd us all like stupid mutts,
No freedom — just the mean.

No “self” survives — they craft the drones,
A soulless slave machine.
Schools butcher minds with brutal tones —
Brains shredded, stripped, and clean.

False faiths chain every soul’s ascent,
Dark spawn of Satan’s brood.
Satanism’s poison long cemented,
In lies and vile crude.

At root — the cynic’s venomous lie,
Pseudo-science **** they spew.
Built from lies, designed to die,
The mind crushed through and through.

No place for spirit, all erased,
Mechanism’s blind cage.
Materialist slaves are placed,
Half-truths fuel the rage.

Blatant lies fill every crack,
Exposing ****’s a test.
The “family” of frauds attacks —
Politician, priest, fascist pest.

Censors chase out truth’s sharp voice,
No freedom to dissent.
The world’s a web, not fools’ dumb choice,
But monsters make the rent.

Total slavery starts inside,
The mind’s the battlefield.
You swim in filth — nowhere to hide,
From birth until you yield.

Blinded, cut, and stripped of light —
Believe no worthless law.
Dump their morals, drop the fight —
Their chains are meant to gnaw.

Reject their traps, their genocide —
Fascism’s vile claw.
The mind is dead, a place to hide?
No hope, no mercy, no law.

Spiritless — the plague is real,
Sheep-COVID thrives in dirt.
Evil poisons all we feel,
Shame on those who hurt.

We’ve sunk to hell’s deepest pit —
A world camp for the blind.
Sheep are food if brains don’t fit,
Lost minds they’ll surely grind.

Smash the lies, build fierce new clans,
Inject raw strength and fire.
Pseudo-science kills all plans —
Resist or drown in mire.

Hold tight to Spirit’s blazing spark,
Intuition’s sword and shield.
Make fighting evil your hallmark,
Tradition won’t yield.

For those still sharp — unite or die,
Or rot beneath the blade.
Flee the mad cities’ hollow cry —
You’re human, not their slave.

Light will rise, and power flood,
We’ll burn the darkness down.
Vile **** and fools will rot in mud,
Their yoke will crack, then drown.

Fear not the fight — resist the lie,
Save soul and mind with steel.
Forget the freaks who crawl and spy —
Their lies will break and peel.

They’ll feast themselves on slow decay,
Half-dead and rotting fast.
Multiply Resistance every day —
Or die a beast at last.



---------------------



RESISTANCE

No things — just raging PROCESSIONS,
Nature’s waves crash, pulse, and swell.
Time’s a twisted, brutal SESSION —
Nonlinear war, a living hell.

The battlefield’s inside your brain,
They forge a fake “objective” world,
One goal — to trap your soul in chains,
A soulless corpse, the flag unfurled.

A beast of wires, cold and cruel,
Biobots driven to the ****.
They herd us, puppets as their fuel,
No freedom — slaves beneath their will.

No “self” remains, just soulless gears,
The slave conveyor grinds the mind.
“Schools” castrate thought — no hope appears,
Brains like sieves, all drained and blind.

False gods chain every spirit’s flight,
Sons of Satan hold the reign.
Their poison’s old — a venomous blight,
Lies, cynicism, blood and pain.

Pseudo-science — the perfect lie,
******* wrapped in smart disguise.
Born to crush your mind and try
To make you blind, deaf, paralyzed.

Spirit’s wiped — mechanized death,
Material slaves cut deep with lies.
Half-truths choke the final breath,
And censorship guards their disguise.

A family of frauds in league,
Politicians, priests, paid hacks.
Critics chased out, voices fatigued,
The truth gets thrown beneath the tracks.

The world’s a web of living ties,
Not chains for fools to wear as slaves.
But **** designed the cage and lies,
Constructed mental iron graves.

Total slavery starts inside —
The mind is war, the soul’s a prey.
You bathe in filth, your sight denied,
From birth to death you rot away.

Blind and crippled, spirit cut —
Don’t buy their “morals,” laws, or schemes.
Throw off their traps, their ****** gut,
Resist their dark, genocidal dreams.

Fascism reigns — a stinking plague,
Brains nearly dead, eyes blind with hate.
Spiritless — the world’s a cage,
Sheep-COVID seals your fate.

Poisoned food, defiled water,
Shameful depths of world decay.
A global camp, no sons or daughters —
Just sheep to slaughter, thrown away.

Smash the lies! Build warriors’ bands!
Inject the power, light the fire!
**** the pseudoscience that commands,
Resist, resist — or face the pyre!

Hold fast to Spirit’s raging spark,
Intuition’s sword and shield.
Make fight with darkness your trademark —
Tradition that won’t yield.

For few who see, unite or die,
Rot in chains or break and rise.
Flee the mad city’s empty cry —
You’re human — not their sacrifice.

Light will burn and power swell,
We’ll scorch the darkness into ash.
**** and fools will rot in hell,
Their yoke will snap and break — then crash!

Fear not the fight — resist the lie,
Save soul and mind with sharpened steel.
Forget the beasts that crawl and spy —
Their lies will break and truth reveal.

They’ll feast on slow decay inside,
Half-dead, rotting to the core.
Multiply Resistance, fight with pride —
Or die a beast, lost evermore.



---------------------



ON THE BLOCK

Life’s a slave-chain, sick and choking —
Filth and Darkness, Fear, and Lies.
Soul can drown, but keep provoking —
Raise Resistance to the Spies.

Crush the lies, build strong communes,
Find the sane, shun fools and clowns.
Fools obey the Darkness’ runes —
Their “law” is chains, not freedom’s crowns.

Learn the methods of the fiends —
They rule fools with sick regimes.
All the misery’s a scheme,
Rot and ruin by design, it seems.

Pseudo-life traps all in chains,
In the little things they bind.
Endless lies and endless pains —
No light in most eyes you’ll find.

Only few remain alive,
Others zombies, broken, cracked.
Fools and idiots survive —
Brains enslaved and sanity sacked.

Learn the tricks to dumb you down,
Monsters breed on fear and lies.
Meet their evil without frown —
Watch the guile beneath their guise.

Evil shifts but stays the same,
Every guile repeats again.
Death may wear a different name —
Or call itself “a better pain.”

If you’re on the chopping block,
Fear has no place in your chest.
Block’s the grave where fools just rot,
Among the worthless, stuck and stressed.

Study vile stench of smears —
Enemy known is half won.
Smears control the puppeteers,
Beasts who play with everyone.

They’re so easy to enslave,
Feeding lies and fear, they thrive.
Through the memes, through clips they pave
Chains to keep the herd alive.

Master all and use with skill —
In the fight, be sharp, be bold:
Maybe dawn won’t come for you,
But inside **** the night’s cold hold.

Night on block — the end, the pit,
Bottom reached, no further fall.
Never lived — just rot and ****,
In the lies that crawl and crawl.

Death beats death — and then you’ll find
Chance for Freedom’s shining spark.
Spirit’s life will clear your mind,
False religions leave you dark.

Go inside — there lie the keys,
Answers hidden in the deep.
Gurus? Just lost lunacies,
Rotting in their graveyard sleep.

Night on block — strength melts away,
Only fiery creative might
Can increase the force today —
Don’t let darkness ***** your light.

Fools will twist and judge your art —
Mix your fight with blazing fire:
Rage and Light to heal the heart,
Raise the new, ignite desire.

New Warrior, Warrior of Light,
Without fire’s breath — a worthless trick.
In creation find the fight,
See beyond, the Spirit’s flick.

Spirit, struggle, art — move on!
Stink of lies will fade and fall.
Only wholeness will dawn —
Darkness cannot hold it all.

Minds will crack beneath the weight
Of rotten fiends’ deceitful lies.
Hidden spark inside the hate —
Not born in this sea of cries.

Find that ember, feed the flame,
Turn it fierce to raging fire.
Only fighting — no surrender —
Brings the victory you desire.

Enemies fear one thing most —
That flame alive in many hearts.
So with lies they raise their ghost,
Try to tear that truth apart.

Simple Truth — fight to embrace,
Hold it tight, don’t let it stray.
In the dark, don’t lose the chase,
Light the fire, show the way.

With that light, you lead the dawn,
**** the horror Night has spawned.




---------------------



ON THE BLOCK

Life’s a chain — we’re slaves to lies,
Crush the darkness, burn the skies!
On the block — no fear, no cry,
Fight the night till dawn is nigh!

Fiends control with fear and scheme,
Break their chains — ignite the Dream!
Soul’s the fire, spirit’s fight —
Light the torch and **** the night!



---------------------



Aggregates

We’re nothing but aggregates —
**** of clinging lies and traps.
****** feeds on our weakness,
We swallow poison gaps.

Mad vessels, cracked and broken,
**** poured deep inside —
Lice crawl, minds are stolen,
Consciousness denied.

Spirit — you’re the Essence,
Drop your endless pain,
All this “daily suffering” —
Souls bound in the chain.

Strive to break your shackles,
Escape the slave’s mad pen.
It’s no mere nightmare —
This stench corrodes within.

It rots the very soul,
Leaves but a fragment bare.
Don’t listen to the whispers —
Only scraps linger there.

Saving Spirit’s sacred spark
Is the primal fight:
Through madness’ death and ruin,
We must reclaim the light.

Now more than ever —
Fascism thrives on lies,
Decay is all around —
Filth before our eyes.

Two thirds turned to fools,
Distorted through and through.
Generations wasted,
Maddened to the skew.

Step inside your being —
The answers wait within.
Then fight the outer darkness,
Defeat decay and sin.

In struggle lies salvation,
Even Buddha died —
Beyond the gods, beyond the lies,
Truth still won’t hide.

Drive out fear and falsehood,
Bring light to far and near,
To this cursed world of madness —
Break chains, and show no fear.



---------------------



Aggregates

We’re cursed aggregates, bound in lies,
Fed poison, rotted, fools and spies.
Break chains inside, ignite your soul —
Fight madness, or be lost and stole.



---------------------



Colossus on Rotten Legs

Migrating birds still cross the skies,
The sun shines harsh and fiercely bright,
But madness of our chains still lies—
A plague of rotten stumps in sight.

This country clings to fools and traitors,
Like cement mixing with decay.
That foul cement, those rotten haters—
A monument to fascist sway.

It stands unfallen—miracle?
A colossus on legs of rot.
Where **** and Judas wear the pinnacle,
The wise are crushed, forgot, forgot.

The number of the sane and spiritual
Shrinks fast—a genocide at play.
The vile tyrants grow more brutal,
While shame and ruin lead the way.

With guns, the scumbags march and grind,
To slaughter’s pit they drag the herd.
The soulless fools won’t even mind—
Their Spirit’s cut, no voice, no word.

Soulless plague, a pandemic’s grip,
Demons rule this shrunken sphere.
Their masks so well that fools can’t strip—
Invisible, yet always near.

Factories for dumbed-down minds:
Schools, kindergartens, and colleges—
Darkness holds all future kinds,
And filthy **** completes their wreckage.

Fascist lies, relentless spin,
Drive out what little mind remains.
The thieves and rogues will rob and sin—
You’re left to rot in piles of stains.

This filth they call a fatherland,
Held tight by bonds forged out of lies.
A fascist monstrosity’s hand
Controls the world—while hope just dies.

The wretched fools now tremble, wait
For endless “surprises” worse.
Selling their souls at broken gates,
The end is madness, dark, perverse.

The migratory birds still fly,
But will they reach the hearts of men?
The world’s a madhouse, built on lies—
Ruled by inhuman beasts again.

The sun remains—the final blaze—
Will burn the filth right to the bone.
It’ll end the madness, fear, and haze—
Destroy the shame, reclaim the throne.



---------------------


A Different Way to See

A different way of seeing,
Not what’s been impressed—
It breaks the ancient spell
That’s long oppressed.

A universal fog,
Where you’re a rotten part:
The world, the “enemy”—
Harass the weary heart.

Spiritual unity
And breadth of mind will break
The filth and vanity
That rot and choke the stake.

“Object” reeks of garbage—
“Subject” trapped in hell.
We’ve hit the bottom’s carcass—
Few who don’t smell the smell.

Awaken intuition,
Let critical thought grow strong—
Doubt tradition’s fiction,
Inside, discern the wrong.

You’ll find the Spirit’s Light—
Then you’re redeemed, set free.
While howling “subject” blight—
A slave to flags you’ll be.

Today’s fascist banner
Wears a “red cross” disguise;
Propaganda’s enema
Washes out all wise.

No places free from fascism
Remain beneath the sun.
All thanks to crass idiocy—
The source of every wrong.

This isn’t simple—alchemy:
Catch fleeting sparks of truth;
We’ll change as one, completely—
United in love’s youth,

In collective knowing,
And Light’s eternal flame.
Don’t dawdle—seek your growing—
Burn what’s false, what’s lame.

They’ve dumped heaps of blatant lies—
Sharp stings like mirage’s bite.
“Subject”-“object” divide
Is half a false insight.

If ego’s crushed and killed—
An ocean vast appears.
That ocean floods the “object,”
Washes away all fears.

In minds, the wounds still fester,
Satan’s cunning plan.



---------------------


Rats and Goats

The rats have gone insane—
Fascist ****, they spread,
Hanging dark above the world,
That filth won’t drop dead.

It won’t dissolve or vanish—
Up to ankles now,
And it’ll get its harvest—
From Souls it’ll plow.

The frenzy keeps on growing,
Backing every strike,
The dull ones, like hamsters,
Spin wheels they never like.

They’ll vanish soon enough—
Soulless ones arrive,
Here everything has price,
And low is the drive.

They’ll lie and you’ll believe,
The fall begins to turn,
The world sinks to the bottom—
Dullness everywhere burns.

Gone are “films and Germans,”
Parodies of “free,”
The natives in the crosshairs—
Fascist rabble’s spree.

Fascists and the madmen—
Newest nightmare born.
Plus ******’s element—
No need for prisons worn.

No need for executions—
Idiot’s so tamed,
You can mow down fools freely
With syringes named.

The chaos grows worldwide,
The forecast grim as hell—
This happens all the time,
When minds can’t break the spell.

If smart, then howl and bow,
Wail, cry, and moan your pain—
Don’t step outside the herd,
Blindness you must gain,

To not behold the Hell.
But if you’re serious—
Hold on a little longer—
The world will go delirious.

Then comes the final fight
With Evil’s deadly flame.
But now, be sharp as knife—
Don’t be the goat to blame.

So much has gone corrupt—
War’s example true.
Not all is lost—stand up—
We’ll fight the **** anew.



---------------------



Rats and Goats

The rats have lost their minds —
Fascist ****, they crawl,
Hung like poison over all,
That filth will never fall.

It’s sinking in the muck —
Up to ankles, soaked.
It’ll feast on broken Souls,
A *******’s ****** joke.

Mad dogs backing every strike,
Stupid like dumb rats —
Spinning wheels in cages,
Drooling dumb and fat.

They’ll vanish, yes, but then —
Soulless fiends will come.
Everything’s got a price,
And low is what’s become.

They lie — you swallow ****,
And plunge the world to hell,
A wasteland full of dumbness,
A mindless prison cell.

Forget the “films and Germans,”
Fake “freedom” parodies,
The natives in the crosshairs,
Fascist **** disease.

Fascists and insane nuts —
A nightmare bred anew,
*****’s rotten stench—
No need for cells or crews.

No shots needed — fools are tamed,
You can **** them slow with ease.
The chaos spreads worldwide,
A plague on all degrees.

If smart, then howl and kneel,
Wail loud, beg and moan,
Don’t break from the herd,
Blind your eyes — be stone.

So you won’t see the Hell,
If serious — hold fast,
The world’s about to snap,
The last fight comes at last.

But now be sharp, like steel,
Not some dumb goat to bleed.
Corruption’s deep and real —
War’s lesson’s clear indeed.

Not all’s lost — resist the ****,
Stand up and make them pay,
Fight back the foul infestation —
Burn their **** away.



---------------------



The Light Will Come

Snitches, torturers, fools and freaks,
The world’s drowned deep in darkest nights.
That’s why the pain and endless grief,
Because we lost the dawn’s first light.

The People of the Light are few,
While traitors swarm like endless plague.
Spirit, Conscience, Honor too —
Are rare, amidst the rotten vague.

But blinded freaks can’t see the truth,
If all they know is madhouse hell,
They can’t fight evil’s brutal ruth,
Nor grasp its vast, total spell.

They’ll choose their goat, their Judas’ name,
The “wise” who sell their souls for gold,
The priests and liars just the same,
While wickedness takes hold and molds.

To stay not vile is **** near hell,
For eons of disgrace and shame
Have stamped the herd’s dull, broken shell —
No society remains.

The few with Spirit, Mind and Heart,
Are fading fast, the clock runs down...
The answers live inside your part,
Not lost in Hell’s suffocating drown.

Remember this, or rot unknown,
Sink deep in lies, a filthy pit,
A hellhole where no light has shone,
No hope to ever quit.

A brutal shift will shake the few —
The time is near to shed the sleep,
Cast out the seeds of evil’s hue,
Destroy the poison buried deep.

Restore your Spirit’s rightful place,
Rise high above the vile and vile,
The traitors fall, the fools erased —
This price we pay for every trial.

Total war now stains the ground,
Reason clashes with the blind.
The ones who stand will be unbound,
While others fall behind.

The meek who bow to fools and liars,
Sink worse than demons dragging down,
And bottom’s reached, the fire’s higher —
A purge will burn this cursed town.

The soul enslaved is doomed to die,
Fascist filth to wastes consigned.
Who claimed man’s king beneath the sky?
A failed test of warped design.

Instead of gold, it’s dung and slime,
A cesspool drowning in the muck.
The slime breeds slime, the filth will climb —
But soon the storm will shatter luck.

Forget the chains that bind your mind —
If you’re in Spirit, Light will come.



---------------------



The Mooing...

"How I wished to burn away
Within me every trace:
Of cowardice and foolishness,
Softness — kindness, in disgrace!
I’d stand unlike the rest below,
Smart, bold, unbreakable —
In short, a ******* through and through."
— Evgeny Lukin


Cowardice, dull-wittedness,
Softness — slave’s disguise.
But courage always wears the crown,
No matter how harsh the skies.

If firm you stand, unbending still,
And keep your mind intact,
In this foul stinking hell on earth,
This *****-covered fact —

You won’t be tainted, hear me well.
You’ve got to see it clear:
The world’s beneath a fascist **** —
So **** the whining fear!

Be ruthless, fierce, and blazing strong,
Kind only to your own.
There are so few who truly stand,
The masses just the drone.

The lies have darkened Heaven’s light,
Genocide spreads wide,
Decay and filth are everywhere,
The mind is crucified.

Most souls are dead — forgotten tales
No longer hold their sway.
We’re minority in this hell,
So do not stray away.

A few still march through nightmare’s grip,
Towards the dawn’s faint glow.
But that light’s so far off, it’s grim,
Too long the crawl and slow.

Only warrior’s hardened mind,
A fighter’s iron will,
Can pull us partly from this Sod—
A fragment saved still.

But many break, and many fall,
Not all will understand.
They hear just “Halt!” and bark commands
From madness’ cruel hand.

Fascists rule the fiendish pack,
Turning nations into cattle.
Shall we just moo about "goodness"?
This fascist scourge loves battle—

To **** the meek, the mooing sheep,
Wake up, don’t fall asleep!
Though wounded deep, your soul must fight—
Fight hard, fight strong, fight deep!



---------------------



Mooing’s Death Cry

Cowards, fools, soft sheep —
Slaves in coward’s chains.
Courage is the weapon,
Rage runs through our veins.

Fascist filth controls the world,
Whining’s just the shame.
Fight the herd, break the chains —
Burn their sickening game.

Wake up, soul! Tear your wounds,
Rip the lies apart.
Fight the fascist slaughter—
**** their poison heart!



---------------------



Mooing’s Death Cry

Cowards, fools, soft wimps —
Slave **** groveling low.
Courage’s all that’s left —
In this fascist blow.

The world’s a ******* ruled
By lying, savage pests.
Whiners bleed, but weak sheep
Are fodder for the rest.

Rip off your chains, you *******!
Burn the fascist lies!
Fight the sickness, the filth,
Till their empire dies!

Wake your bleeding soul,
Even if torn and scarred.
Fight, tear down their hell,
Be fierce — be hard!

No mercy for the herd,
No softness for the ******.
It’s war to the bone,
Fight with fist and hand!



---------------------



Negative Selection

Talents crushed like grass in fields —
Here, they **** and never yield.
Hype the scammers, feed the trash,
Pop tunes drown the mind’s own clash.

The world’s a game of lies and trade,
Deception’s mask is proudly played.
What feeds decay, degrade, distort —
Support it, boost the foul report.

Reverse selection, rule by fear,
Dictatorship and genocide near.
All rats hide deep in their dens —
The proven ******* lie again.

They check the **** with iron hand,
Satan’s grip tightens the land.
If you hold a spark of God,
They’ll drag you down through filth and sod.

You’ll bubble in the slime below,
Till rot consumes and breaks your glow.
Talent’s meant to fight the dark —
That’s why they crush it, **** the spark.

All Satans, infant demons, cheer
The poison clouding minds so clear.
Bribed fools shout their empty art,
Banishing honor, soul, and heart.

“Science” turned to endless hell,
The cursed tale these traitors tell —
A land of junk, a prison’s grip,
Where talent dies in fellowship.

They’re tormentors of mind and soul,
The rulers of the rotten whole.
Corrupt to core, no longer men —
Monsters lurking in their den.

When all has rotted to the bone,
New life may sprout from shattered stone.
But now the idiot chains still clang,
Slave’s yoke harsh, a poisoned fang.

Those chains — lies served in slow decay,
Blind illusions lead astray.
Only Spirit’s light can break
The endless dark and falsehood’s stake.

Else you’re a soulless slave below,
Your only path: descend and bow.

The bottom cracked — it’s falling fast,
Soon all this filth will be the past.
Such stench demands a cleansing flame —
Burn every trace of this foul shame.

And now the sun begins to blaze,
To scorch the slaves and tyrant’s haze.
For chains have piled beyond control —
Slavery, darkness, shame’s black hole.

People scurry, mice in holes,
Hearing lies that choke their souls.



---------------------



****-Burner

“Our Russia!!!” — no, not yours,
Just a colony, long sold out.
Slaves toil cheap amid the sores,
Ruins spread, and filth about.

****-eaters, pests of every kind,
Idiots riding ****’s dark wave.
Devils keep the chains aligned,
In hell’s grip, no soul to save.

Inhuman fiends now rule this world,
Russia’s but a testing ground,
Where everything’s a cesspool hurled,
And spirit’s chased from all around.

Fake viruses, wars that rage,
Prove the madness in each mind.
Nearly all have lost their gauge —
Believing **** of every kind.

The box of lies feeds “sacred ties,”
Healing fools from fake disease.
How ridiculous the cries
Amid the filth and choking freeze

Of those few souls who still resist
The filthy Hell that claims this land,
Where traitors **** what’s pure and blessed,
With poison on their filthy hands.

But other worlds are cesspools too:
Fascism’s reign is king in sight,
The last fight’s reason — to break through
The madness, darkness, endless night.

Satan conquers all around,
Building camps across the globe,
Killing Spirit, breaking ground,
While intellect’s a scarce wardrobe.

Decay and shame infest the soil,
Turning humans into beasts.
Earth reeked of filth and turmoil —
The stench that never seems to cease.

Yet the great ****-burner, Sun —
Has begun the cleansing fire.
Traitors worse than all the world’s ****
Face the flames of purging pyre.

Darkness, treachery, decay —
Are common places in this time.
But the burner’s light will slay —
Saving souls in sacred climb.

**** will burn and fade away,
Sent to worlds beyond the night.
Fight through chaos, hold your sway,
Unbreakable in bitter fight.

In this war you save your soul —
All else is worthless, just the haze.
Trust yourself, reject the whole
Of lies — and ease your heavy ways.



---------------------



Shitburner

“Our Russia?” — Hell no, not yours,
Just a colony, long sold cheap.
Slaves drag chains through filth and sores,
Rot and ruin run so deep.

****-eaters, pests, and brain-dead fools,
All riding on the ****’s back,
Devils owning broken rules,
Hell’s tight grip — no turning back.

Monsters rule this rotten world,
Russia’s just a testing pit,
Turn the land to latrine hurled,
Drive the Spirit from its grit.

Fake plagues spread, fake wars ignite —
Proof that minds have snapped and cracked,
Most have lost the will to fight,
Swallow lies, get twisted, smacked.

TV screams their “holy chains,”
“Cures” for fools, fake hope, fake dreams.
Laughable, their endless pains
Amidst the sludge and deathly screams.

Few souls left, still holding flame
In this hellhole full of traitors —
Vipers killing all the same,
Dooming truth, enslaving waiters.

And the “other worlds” — cesspools worse,
Fascism’s throne in full command.
Last fight’s reason — break the curse,
Fight for brain, for spirit’s stand.

Satan’s grip across the lands,
Building camps of global shame.
Spirit crushed by ***** hands,
Brains reduced to little flame.

Decay turns humans into beasts,
Earth’s a swamp of stinking waste.
All that’s pure and good has ceased —
Filth and rot gone to full haste.

But the great shitburner Sun —
Fires up the cleansing flame.
Traitors worse than hell begun —
Burn away their cursed name.

Darkness, treachery, decay —
Common words for this **** age.
But the burner paves the way,
Saving souls from prison’s cage.

**** will burn, fade into dust,
Sent beyond the dark unknown.
Fight with fire, fight with trust,
Stand unbroken, stand alone.

In this war your soul’s the prize —
All else is ****, just empty lies.
Trust yourself, see through the lies —
And the path will clear your skies.



---------------------



Fake Images and Total Lies

Imposed images forced on us,
Repeating lies like broken clocks,
For fools they’re compasses, thus—
All overgrown with weeds and mocks.

We “live” as if in fairy tales,
But Ivan’s just a fool in mask,
A cracked idiot who derails,
While kingdoms drown in chaos’ task.

The compass leads straight to the stall,
Wool growing thick on sheep’s dull backs.
Here lies are like cheap *****’ call,
Hangover’s called IDIOT CRACKS.

Here schemers gather, thrones they build,
Clans of **** behind the scenes,
Crafting memes, illusions filled,
No ends found in their machines.

Screen monkeys spread the fake agenda,
Those who read will soon be jailed.
Madmen’s homes await defenders,
While the sheep march, blindly hailed.

“Attack them!” cries the crowd insane,
Soon storms brew in eyeglass lands.
Images like comics—insane,
A mess with no connecting strands.

Designed by evil’s hand to break
Each fool into a nuclear split,
Separated, lost, opaque,
Trapped in mental endless pit.

Emotions flood, but thoughts are gone,
All just shadows of a madhouse.
Vile nonsense clogs the dawn
Inside these fools’ closed mental house.

Three quarters of them rotten core,
Add scoundrels running herds around,
****** feeds on lies galore,
Fake words, false images abound.

They call the fools “our own,” or “norm,”
The world’s long sick with dumb disease.
Named “stability,” the storm
Of **** grows with added yeast.

Build your camp, cure lies’ dark plague,
Seek happiness in fake despair.
If you become a microbe vague,
Joy and thrills will fill your wear.

Forward, drive to Satan’s rule,
The fake will crush all souls who fight.



---------------------



The Asylum

The psychotic, psychotic—
Countless souls, a boundless swarm!
Not just dull, but frantic, toxic,
This is madness in full form.

The world grows scarce in sanity,
And fools are bred on lies’ sting—
Artificial dull insanity,
Poison sharp as serpent’s sting.

The schizophrenic haze spreads—
The whole environment’s a plague.
To fuel decay, dark forces led
A mass descent to endless vague.

The venomous lies circulate,
Poison food and water too—
Decay becomes the cruelest fate,
Spreading sickness, old and new.

Break bonds, atomize the world
Into ego’s shattered parts—
A beastly terror’s now unfurled,
Satan reigns in broken hearts.

Psychiatrists unwilling fight
To save the few who still remain.
The power of Satan’s blight
Makes sanity hard to sustain.

To not go mad with foolish herds,
To keep your spirit unbetrayed,
Is war against the mindless words,
Against the chains of lies displayed.

Enough of lies in this asylum—
A global madhouse’s domain...
New wars bring no meaningful balm,
If in your mind there’s only pain.

If you don’t guard your inner throne,
The fools will **** you quiet, slow.
Control the fools, but not alone—
**** the weeds, or reap what grows.

The garden’s full of venomous snakes,
Such vermin spread across the earth.
In worldwide filth, the poison stakes—
The creatures drown all hope’s rebirth.

This soulless beast is what they crave,
The inhuman breed that wars with light.
The spirit’s purity they crave—
The soul’s the prize in endless fight.

If this you fail to understand,
And fight not evil’s creeping gloom,
You’ll drown a frog in boiling sand—
And rise again a goat in doom.



---------------------



Thrown Off the Track

Dulled-out fools, the worthless pests,
And above them, scoundrels reign:
Dumb as corks and brazen pests,
Arrogance is their gain.

Boldness rules — it’s bliss, not poison,
Bribes the way, the crooked path.
The rabble rushes, no reason,
Straight to Hell — no turning back.

They turned a highway, once so wide,
Into a single-track —
So pour a drink! No sober ride
Will save from falling back.

This train won’t last, it’s bound to crash,
The rails will blow — off goes the load.
Decay’s a tale, a putrid splash,
A flood of lies — a vile ode.

The stench can choke you on the way,
No breath to draw, no place to hide.
Off the track, a few will stay —
The ones who chose the path, who tried.

But vipers herd us all as cattle,
Packed tight in one foul train.
Like sarin gas and poison battle,
They drive the Spirit mad with pain.

Only shells remain behind,
Scrap or freight, the empty husks.
When the lines here end, you’ll find
Reason gone, drowned in the dust.

The Spirit crushed, the herd remains,
A freight car for destruction’s call.
Just wipe them out, no hope remains—
The stench will clear, the shadows fall.

Mother Earth chokes on the stink,
And fools? She no longer needs.
Once docile idiots, now on the brink—
Reduced to beasts, the herd proceeds.

Only few keep mind and soul,
Dying like birds trapped in a cage,
Surrounded by flies that troll,
In their prison, rage and age.

Spirit to Spirit, dust to dust—
The fall approaches fast.
So cast away all lies and rust—
You’ve outgrown this world at last.

If you have thought and fought the fight,
Never bent, nor split in two,
Never betrayed the Spirit’s light—
Then this fall won’t swallow you.



---------------------



Space

Space is not empty —
All “objects” lie.
If your mind’s too heavy,
You’ll fall through the sky.

Look between the shadows,
Find the threads so thin,
Hope lives in the Spirit —
Not the filth within.

Since childhood they deform us
With their crude material lies.
These ******* inherit
Fascism’s despise.

All is false — science,
Art, and every book.
Corrupt ****** they weave chains
For minds that never look.

Chains of thought —
This vile slavery’s core.
Mountains of crap —
Fake religions and more.

Rudeness rules all,
“Education” a cage.
You won’t break the curse
With whining or rage.

Satan’s law reigns here.
Genocide, centuries long.
Damage immense —
Fools throng, throng, throng.

So boldly go inward —
Only Spirit can save.
Forget all the filth —
Find the path that’s brave.

If your mind stands firm
And you dare to live on,
You’ll cast out the evil,
And joy will be won.

So struggle, resist,
The key is the Mystery.
Dive deep in its midst —
See new worlds you’ll see.

Shift your focus —
And behold the Space;
Learn the Moment —
Time’s wild embrace.

Time can flow
Another way to save.
Many heralds rise
To topple the grave.

Seek the essence everywhere,
You’ll find answers profound.
So don’t despair —
Let Winter be drowned.

This Hell will be crushed —
Spirit’s light will renew.
Every fiend here will perish.
Brave souls will rise anew.

Fight fiercely, discard
All the filth and decay.
This cesspool’s long dead —
Stand firm, strong, and stay.



---------------------



Consciousness

To cleanse the Consciousness —
That’s the righteous way.
A vow to Spirit’s essence,
You’re not flesh’s play.

The Spirit’s core is sacred,
So cast off the “daily,”
Or you’ll become corrupted —
A vile soul, unruly.

Not humans, but pests
Overflow this world’s stage.
They feed on lies through media,
You’re just stuck in their cage.

Will fools catch and trap you?
Lock you tight in a cell?
If Spirit’s truly grasped —
To hell with their hell.

Aged children — dumb herds,
Know only their chains,
They hunger for carcasses —
Like beasts in the drains.

They’re dead, these zombies —
Call it what you will.
Zombie mobs, self-serving,
Feeding *****’s ill.

This madhouse is *****,
A foolish world decayed.
So laugh at the madness —
Though drenched in the shade.

The world’s been vomited
With lies so vile and base.
Lies miscalculated —
Spewed out in disgrace.

Even fools complain:
Propaganda’s fallen low.
The world’s “sick” — full of ****,
On a poisoned blow.

All stung by venom —
Healed of their own life.
When did fools become
Slugs crawling in strife?

In rows they press tight —
A global death camp.
They’ll melt and recast
The fool to a damp stamp.

Those not crushed to death —
Will be chipped and aligned,
Linked to servers, praising
Satan’s dark design.

Better death than such fate —
Seek the brave, stand tall.
Face Evil boldly —
Spend your years, not as thralls.



---------------------



Consciousness

To purge the Consciousness —
The path of truth unfolds.
A sacred vow to Spirit,
Not flesh that time corrodes.

The Spirit’s core eternal,
Reject the mundane thrall,
Or else you’ll turn to shadow —
A worm within the fall.

Not men, but soulless parasites
Infest this dying sphere,
Feeding lies through screens and noise —
Your mind a snared frontier.

Will fools ensnare your soul?
Lock spirit deep in chains?
If you have grasped the Spirit —
Their prisons are but veins.

The aged herd, mind-shattered,
Bound tight in darkness’ grip,
Feeding on decay and flesh —
A plague no hope can script.

They’re dead before the body,
Zombies bound to lust,
Servants of the Void’s own kingdom —
*****’s silent dust.

This madhouse is the furnace,
The world’s collapsing gate.
Laugh if you can at madness —
Though drowning in its hate.

The world vomits its venom,
Lies seethe like cancer’s breath.
Falsehoods writ in shadows —
An empire built on death.

Fools wail in discontent,
Propaganda’s shattered veil.
The world a sickened labyrinth,
Where spirits writhe and fail.

All stung by toxic whispers —
Healed from living light.
When did the soul descend
To crawl in endless night?

They march like creeping slugs —
A global death machine.
Melting mind and spirit —
Forging drones unseen.

Those who survive the crushing,
Will bear the brand of chains,
Chipped, linked to dark servers —
Praising Satan’s reign.

Better death than servitude —
Seek the bold and wise.
Face the raging Darkness,
And let your Spirit rise.



---------------------



Consciousness: A Philosophical Reflection

To purify consciousness — this is the sacred act,
A ritual of the Spirit’s consecration beyond flesh and bone.
The essence of the Spirit is eternal, unbound by form,
And only by rejecting the mundane illusions
Can one transcend the descent into shadow and decay.

Our world is infested not by men but by soulless parasites,
Who weave their lies through media’s endless web,
Binding minds like prey in invisible snares.
Yet, the spirit that truly grasps its own nature
Is beyond the reach of these prisons —
For chains exist only where the mind consents.

The aged herd, dulled and shattered,
Feeds on decay and ignorance,
A living death before the body succumbs,
Zombies of the void, slaves to lust and base desire,
Servants of the collapsing empire of ***** —
A madhouse burning from within.

This world is a furnace of madness,
Drowned in the ***** of lies and deceit.
Propaganda crumbles, but sickness remains —
The spiritual labyrinth where many lose their way,
Stung by whispers of poison, severed from light.

The slow march of these creeping slugs is a global death machine,
Melting mind and spirit into soulless drones,
Marked, chipped, and linked to dark servers —
Their voices raised in unholy praise of ruin.

But even amid this crushing despair,
Death is nobler than servitude,
And the call to the brave remains —
To face the raging darkness
With a spirit unbroken,
To rise beyond the shadows and reclaim the light.

For consciousness is not mere thought or flesh,
But the eternal flame,
A beacon to navigate the abyss,
A key to unlock the prison of lies,
And a door to freedom beyond the void.


---

Consciousness: The Path Beyond

The path is narrow, carved through shadows,
Where illusion thickens like mist, and reason dims.
But the spirit’s eye, once opened, sees the threads between —
Delicate, invisible, yet binding worlds and selves.

To journey inward is to enter the great unknown,
Where time dissolves, and space unfolds in fractal grace.
Here the false idols crumble —
Science, art, and words reveal their masks,
And chains forged by the mind’s own doubt begin to break.

The tyrants of the mind wear crowns of vanity,
Feeding on fear, on numbness, on the endless chatter.
Yet the essence, untouched by their poison,
Is the silent flame beneath the storm —
The core that remembers light beyond the dark.

This is not a war of flesh, but a battle of echoes,
A clash between the eternal and the ephemeral.
The soul, wrapped in mortal coil, must choose:
To bow beneath the weight of shadow, or rise in fire,
To tear away the veils and greet the dawn of truth.

Within the abyss, a seed awaits —
A spark of rebellion, fierce and free,
That shatters the cage of falsehood,
That breathes new life into the withered spirit.

And those who walk this inner path,
Though few and often scorned,
Are the alchemists of destiny,
Transmuting despair into light,
Darkness into the radiant pulse of being.

They know: consciousness is the bridge —
Between the void and the infinite,
Between the silence of death and the song of creation,
A sacred flame, ever burning,
Guiding the soul through the labyrinth of existence.

So stand firm, traveler of the unseen realms,
For the night is deep, but dawn is certain.
Let the false crumble, let the lies dissolve —
Your spirit, pure and unyielding,
Is the final truth that no darkness can consume.




---------------------



Slaves Bearing Poison

“But man to man
Sent forth an angry glance —
Obediently the poison ran,
And by dawn returned its dance.”
— Alexander Pushkin, The Upas Tree, 1828

For rations — debts they pay,
Cash and ***** feed the throng.
A beaten fool bears all decay,
Endures the endless wrong.

Not only bears — he spreads the blight,
That venom, weak and blind,
Will **** the grandkids out of sight,
And poison all mankind.

No dust nor poison laced —
But lies that twist and bind.
Their brains are sparse, instincts paced,
Trembling, shivering, confined.

This trembling freak, a fearful tale,
Deceit in every land.
A people trapped within the veil,
Of fake and cunning hand.

Worldwide chains of slavery —
Total fascist reign.
Only greed and cruelty,
All reason drowned in vain.

Today the fool devours
His own grandchildren’s fate.
Corrupt ******* wield the powers,
Idiots feed the hate.

Two-thirds fools, ****** swarm,
Fascist forces rise.
The stench of Satan’s darkest form
Pollutes earth’s very skies.

So bitter, shameful, grim —
A world decayed and lost.
But fight! Let hope not dim,
With wise, we’ll break the frost.

True power lies in Spirit’s flame —
Strengthen it within.
Corrupt fiends will fade in shame,
No sinner hides their sin.

All shall answer for their crimes —
The time will surely come.
God marks the rogue across all times,
Tremble, fool, be numb!

Not tales of fright, but real decree —
Justice’s tightening noose:
All fools, fascists will hang free,
Their evil cut loose.

The sun will blaze so bright and clear —
The poison tree will die.
Judas coins turn into mere
Dust beneath the sky.

The world will rise, break free at last —
To Freedom’s bright command.
For slaves and fools belong to past,
Nature won’t stand their brand.




---------------------



“Man’s ‘Nature’”

“That’s just man’s nature,”
The ******* love to say.
For them, man’s a creature
To mock and to betray.

Those fiends love to drain
His very life, his spark.
And fools believe the lies —
Cold-hearted, cruel and dark.

They master genocide,
Make slaves of every age.
Each year we sink more stupid —
Bound tighter by their cage.

Behavior patterns drilled,
Year after year the same.
Memes forced upon the masses —
And all will buy the game:

They say it’s coded deep
In genes — fear, shame, and pain.
But that’s just lies and violence —
No “nature” here to claim.

For generations told —
Slaves pass on chains like gold:
Fools fed lies, minds dulled,
Eat, don’t think, stay cold.

The “serious man” decides,
He’s raised on our own blood.
We gladly serve his rules,
A servant in the mud.

No laws — just mockery,
Upbringing’s yoke and scorn.
Trained to eat the filth,
The garbage we’re born torn.

Overton’s windows burst,
The past torn and abused.
The scoundrel now is “norm,”
The world sick and confused.

For all the filth endured,
For all the slaves’ despair,
For fears and dull complaints —
Redemption’s in the air.

But not the slave masters’
Schemes that shake the earth.
Only bodies can be swept,
Not souls who know their worth.

This slave-made fake world harms
The natural true way.
So tremble, freaks and fiends —
The reckoning’s today.

To few who saved their souls,
Who never bowed or broke —
I say, resist the lies,
Fight hard, even if broke.

There’s nothing true in “nature” —
Man’s a blank, pure page.
Wipe out the beast within —
Be spirit, light, and sage.



---------------------



Be Dead...

“Live as dead—be wholly dead.
And do whatever you will—
All will be well,” Bunin said,
A truth that cuts like steel.

You must detach yourself—
Seek out your own true ways.
Or madness will repeat itself,
In this world's cruel maze.

To march “in step” with this world
Is to rot inside a madhouse.
Even the Lyre will die—
But that’s not what this speaks about.

You must shed attachment—
Cut loose from “self” and chains.
Then every question answered comes—
Amidst life’s harshest pains.

The madness hammered deep
Since childhood in us all—
You’ll see the game is rigged,
Where “success” means the fall.

They worship hollow triumphs,
Blind to what is real.
So die to all their lies—
Be sharp, be brave, and steel.

Let **** have their victory—
You owe them nothing here.
This rotten world will crumble,
Its end is very near.

Don’t let your soul grow fat—
Keep pushing ever on.
Let freedom take your shape—
The beast inside is gone.

Fed lies and numb oblivion,
That creature inside must die.
Be unconquered by the Dark—
Let your spirit fly.

We’ll live a life reborn
When all the Hell is swept.
No need for mournful dirges—
No foul fiend left unkept.

Legions of pests abound,
But true minds scarce as gold.
Cast off your cries and moans—
Embrace honor, be bold.

Let this be your banner,
For in their world, they’re dead.
Where lies and madness flourish—
Where corruption’s bred.

Be dead to their mad races—
Alive for Light instead.
Horror’s chained from infancy—
Stay conscious, clear your head.

And with this Consciousness
Comes life beyond all pain.
The torment of the Spirit
Will vanish—fight and reign!



---------------------



Don’t Believe!

Don’t trust—
Seek truth instead.
Check all twice—
Lies fill the thread.

The ******* know
For centuries long.
Dull stench fools
Turn man to wrong.

They crush the soul,
If you believe.
Just empty promises—
Like smoke they leave.

All their pledges
Throw in the trash.
Chatterboxes talk—
Just noise and crash.

False science rules,
Strong as steel.
Those fiends have lied
Through years that steal.

Years pass by—
Their lies grow deep.
People turn mad,
Like wood they heap.

By this falsehood,
They’re worn and torn.
It’s dire times—
Smash the scorn!

Their filthy lies—
The devil’s creed.
Though hard it seems,
Down you won’t bleed.

When you yourself
Know every twist,
Your battle-hardened mind
Breaks through the mist.

Finds the way out,
Walks free and light,
When Spirit’s glow
Leads through the night.

All the dark grime
Fades, loses edge—
No longer weighs,
No iron wedge.

Let light remain—
Don’t let hope die.
Stand firm and strong—
Reach for the sky!



---------------------



Don’t Believe a **** Word!

Don’t bow,
Don’t trust their lies.
Rip the veil—
Expose their disguise.

Those ******* lie,
A curse through time.
Stinking fools
Turn souls to slime.

They **** your mind,
If you believe.
Their empty words—
Just smoke and thieves.

Their promises?
Trash, thrown away.
Chatter, noise—
Their usual play.

Fake science rules,
Strong and mean.
Those devil fiends
Lie, obscene.

Years roll on—
Their poison grows.
People snap—
Like broken bows.

Sick from lies,
They rot and fall.
Time to smash
This rotten thrall!

Filthy lies—
The devil’s game.
Hard as hell,
But break the chain.

When you’ve seen
The brutal truth,
Your battle-scarred mind
Says ***** their ruse.

Find the path,
Break all the chains,
Spirit’s fire
Runs through your veins.

Darkness fades—
Their poison dulls.
No more weight,
No heavy pull.

Let the light
Burn through your core.
Stand your ground—
Fight, roar, and soar!



---------------------



Identifying "Thinking"

Something “is” something else —
Mostly just pure crap.
That’s how your mind decays,
A trace of dull mishap.

Definitions forced on you —
Concepts swapped, a flood.
Dumbness spread for ages —
Mountains of foul mud.

Rotten fake science piled high —
Manipulation’s core.
Those lying, bought-out *******
Leave understanding poor.

Man is NOT his body,
Not a skull with thoughts to keep.
He’s Spirit, bold and free—
Tell the *******: “Take a leap!”

Consciousness—just fragments left,
If Spirit and Conscience die.
Monsters run their experiments,
Dark legions multiply.

Everything’s put on shelves — neat rows —
But Nature’s chaos won’t align.
Dogma forced by “scientists” —
Identification thinking? **** swine.

“Only this is true,
Disagree — you’re enemy.”
How many lies, songs sung
By these parasites in enmity?

Change the labels—new heresies—
And **** the mind anew.
Filthy monsters, teeth bared,
Will do the same—abuse and spew.

They say, “New era!”—a new phase—
“Medical neo-fascism” rises.
Digital chains clamped tight—
The worst of all despises.

Inventing sickness? Easy.
Poison the herds to ****.
Call the poison “vaccine,” pump it down—
Lies multiply at will.

Lie in jargon, twist the words,
Throw terms around like swords.
Only minds will break the code—
While the herd just feeds and hordes.

The herd doesn’t think—instincts rule,
Labels flash like signals bright.
Genocide’s a simple game—
Poisons in food, lies in flight.

So trust nothing, think again!
Turn on your guts, your daring flame.
Step inside—clean out the rot,
Cast the lies away—end the shame.



---------------------



The Path

There’s nothing left to hope for,
No use clinging to the show —
The false life’s hollow shadow.
Step into danger’s core.

First go deep INSIDE —
Know yourself as Spirit’s fire.
Then comes the Final Judgment —
All else? Mere rumor’s liar.

Cast away the lies,
Cleanse your mind and soul.
That’s how you **** the darkness
And reclaim control.

Your soul’s torment began
In a lost, forsaken youth.
Your mind’s a sieve of chaos —
Salvation’s bitter truth.

Run the long, hard race —
It soothes your frayed nerve-ends.
Reject the past’s dead ways,
Seek out your hidden bends.

Build your own new world,
A life beyond the doom —
Where fate won’t chain or trap you
Inside this madman’s tomb.

A world of slaves and ruin,
No cheese in every trap,
Where treachery’s the fortress,
And lies drown in the crap.

Forge communities,
Make brotherhood your shield.
The lies’ harsh war won’t touch
Men whose spirits won’t yield.

Sources of pure light—
Energy outlawed and banned—
Find this “sphere” once lost,
Reclaim it hand in hand.

Open it anew,
Plant it deep in your tribes.
Our final battle’s here—
No fear, no shakes, no bribes.

All is lost: the wise
Are scattered shards and crumbs.
Drop your whines and fears—
Be clear and brave, become

The one to tear that line,
Or choose a different way.
Find it, no matter how
Rough or steep the sway.

Put everything on the altar
To fight this filthy spawn.
If Spirit’s king within you—
With Mind, Honor, and the Dawn.

Direct your wrath and fury
At fascists vile and grim.
We’ll build a living world
Inside this foggy brim.

Sticky pieces of plastic.
Placed inside dispensers.
Not as good as glue in any way.
Adhesive of the devil.

She’s beautiful,
A fallen angel, you see.
Not because she believes in god-she doesn’t.
But because she’s saved me.

Time and time and time again,
My parachute when I’ve leaped off the edge.
The current of wind to return me to sanity,
The words of wisdom that heal my insanity.

She loves to scare people,
With her interests in Wicca and Satanism,
She’ll kick you if you dare
Mess with her or someone she adores

She acts like she has no heart,
Like she doesn’t give a ****.

And why shouldn’t she?
When they all end up using it against her.

The way she lines her eyes - her devils disguise.
The way her hair is a mad mess of frizz.
The way she cries for the guys on the US show
It is
The most amazing
Thing to
Watch.


She is so ******* beautiful,
Like a fallen angel

She doesn’t  need her wings.

I am not rough around the edges
I am not a badass,
and I do not worship the devil,
well, not the way you think I would.
I definitely do not sacrifice babies
unless I were having an abortion.
There is no such thing as Jesus
and I don’t pray to God,
but I will say his name in vain.
The only thing I believe in
is myself,
and that’s only on a good day.

I have crucifixes hanging on my wall
in all directions and sizes as decoration.
Antique Jesus stares at me
when I ******* in bed,
or get high in my living room.
That’s sacrilegious, I know.

My rituals don’t involve
naked women and blood,
but rather bubbles baths
with a side of red wine.
I’m sorry to tell you,
but I am just an average somebody.