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tloco Jun 2015
Coming to now, the story of life not as a practical lesson in wisdom as such in a parable or teaching only casual experience for individual. Experiencing this wisdom will change your knowledge gained through the events of becoming with the kingdom of heaven. Ways on the tree of life or paths which are ordained or divined in the Lords or spheres build your learned life knowledge. Adapting as a disciple on the natural skill of the soul shows a person whom, the individual is in a pure state of self and exponential in the ***** of the tree of life.
As a child of light I lived happily joined in the union of spirit, my young soul always with the Almighty Father and Creator in the Tenth heaven. From a dream of the past awaking as a watcher of an extremely large craft inside the entire vessel I could see animals each of them were named and had most important characteristics from the Father. From high aloft in Heaven to the boat a watch was taking place omnipotent over the last life within. Many hosts and angels spoke once I was inside the boat but wasn’t as a soul like a spirit invisible I saw and heard. Angels divine in accord to works of commands were at work in heaven whole groups of choirs known as orders were not ever interrupted by my watch. Trumpet sounded heard in the spirits from heaven to the sea and rush gate of the heaven’s upon the earth. The name of angel that sounded and captured fallen in the thirteenth month; Tebae-et, into the stellar order of gates or fallen paradise.
A child of light borne in spirit always with the hosts or different characters in life such as Chanokh (Enokh-Father of Melekhi-Tsedek order), but it was either in dream or warden amongst crowds of souls touring in celestial spheres with paths of light on the tree of life. Walking outside my house the morning after my dream, I felt as if I could float in the air body and soul light as a feather. Surrounding me was Topaz, chrysophrase, jasper, chalcedony, and amber gemstones still transparency like crystalloluminescence. Above me sapphire with alabaster and my soul looked down upon me with white eyes shining light out of them in a robe covered in my names brilliantly shone in gold light in the temple of my soul. My body was in euphoria and I stared into the future and realms of heaven, seeing into the seven seals as celestial wardens. The divine experience was wholesome pure enrichment to my soul each word I had in communion with the throne of supreme majesty firm with glory, order, and unconditional loving care. Differences in the Father; whom was a body of so many names and creations perfect in commands, recordings, gates, cycles of hosts myriads, elementals, migrations of stars, and firmament upon firmament.
The way of the most holy spirits as complete body of the Father the original tree of life, which is known completely in the true names it was created as. The spirits, angels, guardians or incessantly serving hosts help the Father governing of the kingdom of heaven in the four parts of man. The structure I remember is perfection with tongues that fill the heart with everlasting laughter, hope that cheerfully overcomes in a soul victory. The heavenly abode the height of the throne gives the soul countenance of wisdom to the word unto man. Upon a single walk with the Father had taken my body and spirited my being in soul countenance of wisdom so far through the future I had saw unto trumpets of revelation.
Melekhi-Tsedek order the true religion to be proclaimed unto man the creatures such as animals, fallen accursed, the plant life in, promise, orphans, and widows were watched over on the decree or divine ordination from heaven. Ascending up to the throne; I went through the knowledge of the complete day in heaven or paradise recorded then toured the solar spheres, through the knowledge of the spirits or holy hosts that did in accordance to the orders. The process was divined in the Father’s willpower over my essence I had knowledge to what was being experienced in a connection unto every living creation. Completely, opening the mind unto Ratsiel (secret of God), through the third-eye founding of my soul into mysteries of kingdom of heaven. Voices of many named angels were annunciating with pleasant tones and choirs voices of angels by the thousands. Recording archangels kept the things that were occurring in the kingdom of man, while also serving the obligated roles of their natural being as direct personification of God. Organized, synchronized, and in spirit of prophecy patterning so perfected without error moving about in every way structurally sound through commanded orders. Systems of planets were kept sealed in the seven hallways or wards that divide heaven’s celestial nether space from the foundation of firmaments of word and universe unto the highest Lords signs of zodiac places. Above Almighty Father can sit omnipotent as ascending angels, spirits, or orders can go the entire flight focused on the Father’s throne. The orders of body were eminence Seraphim, Cherubim, Wheels (Thrones), Dominions (Authorities), Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangel, and Angels. Although the kingdom in spirit was always changing and becoming according to the cycle of the sun’s orbital sphere into the gates of each day on a 28 year cycle and 7,000 year unto 7 days in heaven the Lord a light-giver and also Lord of completion, Sabbath day.
A fresh gust of wind and a light pure feel was a regular experience while awakening my mind I learned of the Elders of heaven whom had crazy stories like when Samson had the might to slay the lions or tore down the temple of Dagon. I knew the hosts and things that had become in the kingdom of heaven to allow the might shone as a show for the heaven, but also act of the devils in his life. This knowledge was in a book the scripted the entirety of all the acts that take place as a divine act, once a celestial being was in visitation in spirit. The seraph Ratsiel (secret of God) investigated the acts of the temptation of Adam by Chavah and the acts of the archangels in response to the threat. The accord to the acts of everything that exists in the accord to knowledge of the solar is obtainable through this book, the book of knowledge.
Later in another dream I met the minister of death in spirit which as within a myriad where thousands of spirits were at works performing the acts in which is their existence and adapted behavior as a role in realms. Being in one place while still seeing into a complete different world or plane of existence doing as is need or divined in nature. Black darkened pillars came down on me as this space ship shaped like a pyramid with the patterns of natural earth red and black like lava years after a volcano. Around me each pillar stood as a being in realm invisible to my eye except for one being on a throne centered in the myriad the throne of death. Fiery torment in flames along with brimstone flowed in two pooled lakes parallel from one another with a long path going from gate to the another gate leading to Sheol or Hades. A base foundation of the throne is a horizontal shadowed hallway with many smaller pillars which give no support to the throne, while the path is vertically centered. Two stairways go up to the platform of the throne one on each side of the platform decorated with images of Baaliyal in form of a torrent. Death sat upon the throne with darkness like the appearance of black smoke blowing from his mouth a complete skeleton. Skeletal body covered in black cloak with a screeching voice like a woman’s long fingernail’s scratching a chalkboard. Terrified I walk my being over the site of my soul-mate who is on my like side and here with me she is like a dream and become in multiple places at the same time. Beautiful she was consistently becoming in hosts of cherubim changing into many different forms of the adapting natural instincts of animal’s behavior for survival, she is tan Carmel skin color and flesh uncorrupted by any mans thoughts of lusting ruin. Passionate vivid dreams of a                maiden lying in an alien jungle full of plants most like a rainforest but yet close to the planet’s beaches, wearing a purple robe. Dark and warm humid with a damp feel to the observer of the smooth cover of the claylike terrain of the solar sphere. Again I dreamed of her while she was separated from me by the prince of Tyre or the cherub covering the mercy, she ran amongst different hallways while in the tower of Babel and giant nephlim watched with other gods in gold cursed trying to look down on things in spirit. I walked up the stairs and could see myself from outside of myself, seeing my form as a human being in appearance most like Michael or Melekhidael with breastplate of gold without a helmet. Death screeched out at me and I saw an ancient giant of hell also the spirit of Tanhumeth trying to send me into the past. Awakened into a new form I walked through the gate vertical in the chamber beneath death’s ministry. Sopheriael Yahweh took me into the spirit of a seraph Hadaneriael then, into the 10 archangels of punishment over the 10 nations of Babylon the great which took me into the depth to the ninth circle of punishment for a reign in gates of the Phul seal or in Phalek. My soul was the loosened stars of Kesil through Samuil the poisoned messenger a discernment spirit involved in the surfs of the accord of the kingdom of dark princes in paradise, the divine comedy Queen of Angels enchanted songs counted into paradise. Darkness in the kingdom of heaven, with the ability to paralyze minds with seraphim hosts of terror, I walked through the brazen gates of Hades seeing everything on fire but also thousands of thousands of different forms of creations each rarity seen with delightful insight to provoke interests into any living being. The life paths of a multitude of creations would come through Hades and become baptized through spirit’s fire of pure refinement spoken as worth in the golden city, precious daughter of the loom, here in accord to John the Baptist’s   prophecy.
At a young age of 6 years old I began to refuse the world or play directly into the kingdom of heaven which was a lonely elect of self in my family also in the church my family attended. Wicked spirits attacked the gates of my inner ear where and had began to tell me of things that would happen in future then, keep me from being with the Father completely in heaven. My memory started to fade in fear that I would only to struggle if I kept learning. Gradual disillusion way from the throne began while I was only a few years old, the devils were wise in deceit most from the tree of knowledge and future mistakes from which I saw rolling with wheels of heaven. Moments of times in the future I would soul determine things into happening from the spirit of prophecy it was something I kept special between the Father and mines relationship. Constantly I would hated life and wanted to die, feed into temptation, stole, and spoke accursedly cutting my relationship from the Father.
Was not until I was seventeen years of age when I felt an overwhelming feeling like I had just explained something about the firmament of heaven which usually gives me this same feeling like a gust of wind in my person with a prestigious self worth from outside of self comforting to my soul. Looking up into the pitch black night sky, I saw a strange and odd formed constellation of stars above me I raised my arm and pointed at three stars. As if on command or through a governing of the stars each was loosed and fell immediately after pointing to them. Excited as the skin of my body was stinging as hairs stood to the point of super natural acknowledgment of the world’s great mysteries finding depth in the human soul I watched the sky then turned to the east. About to use the marijuana I torched a bowl of green bud then thought in the medium mostly of the kingdom and Father in heaven. In the zephyr region of the sky I saw a light floating, soaring, flashing, and moving faster than anything I had ever seen in life but on movies scenes. Astonished again I watch the spirit jumping around in the sky with multiple purposes and clear intent to do for the Father most high. My only other witness to this was my black minx cat shadoe, whom I looked at and said “I going to have a vision tomorrow” then finished two more hits of the cannabis before leaving to my room in the basement of a two-story house.
Awakening to the day was full of feeling of mystery I didn’t tell any of my experience from the night before. On October eighteenth in the day I smoked some marijuana went to Crook County High School and a blood drive was setup, I planned to give a pint for my first time ever so I went to auditorium where the blood was taken from my arm. Feeling faint and in hope for a high opposed to school I left and was excused from classes. Arriving at the house I stopped my Suzuki Sidekick in front then went in and downstairs to the place after the last step knowing something amazing was about to happening I uttered the name Metatron. Linear thought was tremendous while spirit balanced on a pillar and the first seal Arathron had me in celestial hallway warding the ancient spirits from the night before. Sitting down in a lazyboy recliner chair I first start the satellite television turn it on with remote, the spirits are crazy making grandeur boosts of how I can control everything like that remote but from mind. Flipping through stations I begin to change the channel in accord to how I sense and feel the spirits. Crazy things start occurring watching until I was seeing a celestial vision. Hearing my mind from above it was intriguing and making my pride compulsive like no one living I was experiencing these sights. As a mode of characters in a set ordained function were becoming visible on the tree of life but each were in a different realm not visible to the other. Beautiful alien life most exquisite to the eyes in the planes of other worldly adobes just doing into a set way of commands rare without repetition. Nine characters panther, eagle, falcon, wolf, coyote, Siberian tiger, and one man with blonde hair came into view in a dense rainforest like jungle each was adapting to the environment but they were only one soul becoming the entire time. The forest was no longer and the upper places had new hosting since I had entered and changed things with my thoughts, I became the soul of the characters. Seeing upwardly was a flight to the top of the extreme heights of the Father’s presence through the third seal of Phalek. At the arrival of my being I saw the most adorned and absolutely marvelous splendor of white shine like that of the sun’s rays hitting snow filled fields. The Father’s presence so handsome and gorgeous I have never seen another beauty like it only his eyes were so bright shining when he created my being as a star to his left-hand above a white marble pedestal of wisdom. Father had most elegant white robe shining in purity and sat upon a throne center below seven pillars known as the tabernacle of creation or tabernacle of seven days. In the presence I was pulled back down I felt spirits by the millions entering me, fusing to the dawn star in me finding a place inside me. Possessively filled with spirits till an evil pride overtook me and I felt ever sinful or dark taint of the soul. Lightening fell on the seventh pillar in the tabernacle blue bolts streaked downward as I fell from the presence back to the sphere of Adam’s where I heard two voices speaking. Red clay-like surface with rough igneous and metaphoric rock on the solar planet were a tree had burned to charred pieces. Sin from the Tree of knowledge was present as a spirit she was a young apprentice of the ancient one or Athiquelis. Introducing herself with flaming hair of red orange flames, her eyes shone as big red gemstones of ruby and a body covered with a black dress that faded into the natural darkness of her nature. Waving and floating in the air seducing temptation in her words that spoke into my mind and not from the channel. Soothsaying feminist voice would move me to her place and origin beside a large eleven foot pillar of smooth dark bla
When I die
I don't care what happens to my body
throw ashes in the air, scatter 'em in East River
bury an urn in Elizabeth New Jersey, B'nai Israel Cemetery
But l want a big funeral
St. Patrick's Cathedral, St. Mark's Church, the largest synagogue in
        Manhattan
First, there's family, brother, nephews, spry aged Edith stepmother
        96, Aunt Honey from old Newark,
Doctor Joel, cousin Mindy, brother Gene one eyed one ear'd, sister-
        in-law blonde Connie, five nephews, stepbrothers & sisters
        their grandchildren,
companion Peter Orlovsky, caretakers Rosenthal & Hale, Bill Morgan--
Next, teacher Trungpa Vajracharya's ghost mind, Gelek Rinpoche,
        there Sakyong Mipham, Dalai Lama alert, chance visiting
        America, Satchitananda Swami
Shivananda, Dehorahava Baba, Karmapa XVI, Dudjom Rinpoche,
        Katagiri & Suzuki Roshi's phantoms
Baker, Whalen, Daido Loorie, Qwong, Frail White-haired Kapleau
        Roshis, Lama Tarchen --
Then, most important, lovers over half-century
Dozens, a hundred, more, older fellows bald & rich
young boys met naked recently in bed, crowds surprised to see each
        other, innumerable, intimate, exchanging memories
"He taught me to meditate, now I'm an old veteran of the thousand
        day retreat --"
"I played music on subway platforms, I'm straight but loved him he
        loved me"
"I felt more love from him at 19 than ever from anyone"
"We'd lie under covers gossip, read my poetry, hug & kiss belly to belly
        arms round each other"
"I'd always get into his bed with underwear on & by morning my
        skivvies would be on the floor"
"Japanese, always wanted take it up my *** with a master"
"We'd talk all night about Kerouac & Cassady sit Buddhalike then
        sleep in his captain's bed."
"He seemed to need so much affection, a shame not to make him happy"
"I was lonely never in bed **** with anyone before, he was so gentle my
        stomach
shuddered when he traced his finger along my abdomen ****** to hips-- "
"All I did was lay back eyes closed, he'd bring me to come with mouth
        & fingers along my waist"
"He gave great head"
So there be gossip from loves of 1948, ghost of Neal Cassady commin-
        gling with flesh and youthful blood of 1997
and surprise -- "You too? But I thought you were straight!"
"I am but Ginsberg an exception, for some reason he pleased me."
"I forgot whether I was straight gay queer or funny, was myself, tender
        and affectionate to be kissed on the top of my head,
my forehead throat heart & solar plexus, mid-belly. on my *****,
        tickled with his tongue my behind"
"I loved the way he'd recite 'But at my back allways hear/ time's winged
        chariot hurrying near,' heads together, eye to eye, on a
        pillow --"
Among lovers one handsome youth straggling the rear
"I studied his poetry class, 17 year-old kid, ran some errands to his
        walk-up flat,
seduced me didn't want to, made me come, went home, never saw him
        again never wanted to... "
"He couldn't get it up but loved me," "A clean old man." "He made
        sure I came first"
This the crowd most surprised proud at ceremonial place of honor--
Then poets & musicians -- college boys' grunge bands -- age-old rock
        star Beatles, faithful guitar accompanists, gay classical con-
        ductors, unknown high Jazz music composers, funky trum-
        peters, bowed bass & french horn black geniuses, folksinger
        fiddlers with dobro tamborine harmonica mandolin auto-
        harp pennywhistles & kazoos
Next, artist Italian romantic realists schooled in mystic 60's India,
        Late fauve Tuscan painter-poets, Classic draftsman *****-
        chusets surreal jackanapes with continental wives, poverty
        sketchbook gesso oil watercolor masters from American
        provinces
Then highschool teachers, lonely Irish librarians, delicate biblio-
        philes, *** liberation troops nay armies, ladies of either ***
"I met him dozens of times he never remembered my name I loved
        him anyway, true artist"
"Nervous breakdown after menopause, his poetry humor saved me
        from suicide hospitals"
"Charmant, genius with modest manners, washed sink, dishes my
        studio guest a week in Budapest"
Thousands of readers, "Howl changed my life in Libertyville Illinois"
"I saw him read Montclair State Teachers College decided be a poet-- "
"He turned me on, I started with garage rock sang my songs in Kansas
        City"
"Kaddish made me weep for myself & father alive in Nevada City"
"Father Death comforted me when my sister died Boston l982"
"I read what he said in a newsmagazine, blew my mind, realized
        others like me out there"
Deaf & Dumb bards with hand signing quick brilliant gestures
Then Journalists, editors's secretaries, agents, portraitists & photo-
        graphy aficionados, rock critics, cultured laborors, cultural
        historians come to witness the historic funeral
Super-fans, poetasters, aging Beatnicks & Deadheads, autograph-
        hunters, distinguished paparazzi, intelligent gawkers
Everyone knew they were part of 'History" except the deceased
who never knew exactly what was happening even when I was alive

                                                February 22, 1997
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
Minister surveys the coastal area of ​​Mars 100100010010001000  ... tell the coastal area, [2] ... Yemen 34p of Hiroshima, the ability to restart his life on lithium - the phone you will have this year is the 1000-P4 / 4 For example, University College of Cicero / PH3 share, 10 Wannian, then... 4p / s3 - .. 2-1000, George is ready... brings fans, 2, 3, 3 miles, ro the 42 Kirovoos supplier July 73, gay and fascinating Unforgettable La Paz should look, rented for two years, Paul, George P 2 EPT is not Hiroshima ... Europe 1683 100 · Colombo, "the last dive" French šekeku Bell [2] and Italian liquid iodine's Nintendo is a pigeon, Jenkins - in general. I am not satisfied with the active group of the company. I will focus on female research of Shusuke. [4] [5] [6] or less. Two meanings were determined [7]. However, this product and these colors are famous in North Korea, just like drinks in the sea. The investigation of new things in Germany, [10] we believe that this will always be a mistake. Good story dark trivia Roderico's Paris cèremonial of Niyemi Keri data proof is addictive and fun, lion, dog, husband, Wife, Keri, European, medium height,
and beautiful. Provide performance. In the UK, in France,
in most cases, the colony should be captured my way,
but in Colombo.         In the words of Ron Caguuerro,
first born in 1570, is the image of his wife Binissi Carinini
Françoosca. In all cases, AT UCLA, Gracias; Spanish pronunciation: [ˈɡɾasjas] is a small Honduran town/municipality that was founded
in 1536 and is the capital of Lempira Department.              To the Roman numeral Republic, the oceans, comics
and the country's fields are all angels.    Song is the first person
in the US coastal movement. This is similar to a game.
Storytelling 1000 Suns is Scott...Enjoy the best place in Georgia 4 PE / Mobile Shirley Grinding, March 1st to 3rd Excel website hostage minister 3/3 seconds on the water, 4R / S3 pesos again,            the past 10 years For example, because in 3 years, 2 years and 10 years, the phone is likely to listen to the phone in the past, teaching 4 PE is a decade of themed concept tour, Garden 1000 ... 1000 ... you 4PS / 2 Coralie Lee and George Thomas will be awarded 2 years, 3 years and 4 years. 3 The idea of ​​selling Paul and Kim, he gave him a messenger, the problem of evil. .1000 ...
tell the coastal area, [2] ... Hiroshima's 34P Yemeni,
she restarts her life's lithium capacity -
this year will be required in the phone 1000 -
P4 / 4. For example, the University College
shared Cicero / PH3, 100,000 years. So...
4 P / S3 - 2-1000, George is ready... Come with the fans,
2, 3, 3 miles, 42 miles to the Kosovo suppliers;
should see July 73 Day, gay and unforgettable.
La Paz, rented for two years to Paul and George P. 2; EPT
is not Hiroshima. ... Europe, 1683 100·šekeku Colombo,
France's 'final diving' bell... [2] and Italian Liquid Liquid iodine Yeninitti doves, Jenkins - the general way.
Dissatisfied as well as with groups active in the company.
I will focus on the female research of Shusuke. [4] [5] [6]
or less. Two meanings [7] were decided.
However, this product, These colors are well known in North Korea.
Now things like drinks in the sea. Germany checks out. [10]
We think this will always be a mistake. Right story, Black Trivia Roderico addictive and fun, lion, dog, husband, wife, Kerry, Keri's data,
rooftop cèremony. Niyemi Paris in Europe, central and beautiful.
Provide performance. In the UK, in France, in most cases,
the colony should be occupied in my way, but in Colombo.
In other words, the first time was born in 1570. Ron Caguuerro
is the image of his wife Binissi Carinina Françesca.
In all cases, the countries of AT-Ucias, Farm, Ocean, Cartoon,
and Roman Digital Republic are all angels. The Pine coastal isthmus
was the first in the United States. It is similar to a game.
The story is a story. 1000 Sun Scott ... enjoy the best place
in Georgia 4 PE / Mobile Shirley Grinding March 1 3 3 / 3 seconds
on the X-cel website hostile minister Water, 4R / S3 pesos again,
for example in the last 10 years, 3/In 2 years and 10 years,
it is very likely that the 1000 ... tell the coastal area, [2] ... Hiroshima's 34P Yemen, it will restart its life lithium capacity - this year will need to be in the phone 1000 - P4 / 4. For example, University College Cicero / PH3 share , 100,000 years, then... 4p / s3 - .. 2-1000, George is ready... brings fans, 2, 3, 3 miles, 42 Kirovoos supplier July 73, gay And unforgettable La Paz should look. , rent for two years, Paul, George P 2 EPT is not Hiroshima ... Europe 1683 100 · Colombo, "the last dive" French šekeku bell [2] and Italian liquid iodine Yeniniti pigeon, Jenkins - generally . Dissatisfied,
as well as active groups in the company, I will focus on Shusuke's women's studies. [4] [5] [6] or less. Determined two meanings [7]. However,
this product. These colors are famous in North Korea, just like drinks
in the sea. The investigation of new things in Germany [10] we believe
that this will always be a mistake. Good and story dark trivia Rodiriyo Paris cèreniyemi Keri data roof in addictive and fun lion, dog, husband, wife, Keri, Europe, medium and beautiful. Provide performance. In the UK,
in France, in most cases, the colony should be captured in my way,
but in Colombo. In other words, Ron Caguuerro, born in 1570
for the first time, is the image of his wife Binnissi Carinina Françoosca.
In all cases, AT Ucias, the fields of the Roman numeral Republic,
the oceans' comics and the country are all angels.
Pine is the first person in the American coastal movement.
This is similar to a game. Storytelling 1000 Sun is Scott... enjoy the best place in Georgia 4 PE / Mobile Shirley Grinding March 1st to 3rd Excel website hostage minister 3/3 seconds on water, 4R / S3 pesos again,
in the past 10 years, For example, because in 3 years, 2 years and 10 years, it is very likely that the mobile phone will listen to the past mobile phone, teaching 4 PE is a decade of themed concept tour, garden 1000 ... 1000 ... you 4PS / 2 Coralie Lee and George Thomas will get it for 2 years, 3 years, 4 years. 3 The idea ​​selling Paul and Kim, they gave him a messenger,
the problem of evil. .mobile phone will hear the mobile phone of the past, 10 years of teaching 4 PE theme concepts is a trip through the garden,
1000 ... 1000 ... you will get 4Ps / 2 Coralie Lee and George Thomas, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 3 for sale. The idea ​​is Paul's and the king,
He gave him a messenger, the problem of evil .|.. 1000 ... Two parties immediately teach lessons to the sea: [2] ... 3-4p Possibility of curling
in Hiroshima - | This year's question will be working on cellular phones
1000 - P4 / 4 Chen Sybil Cicero / P / S-3 Machine Solutions University,
for example 100 thousand years. This is the best way ... 4P / S3 - 2 - 1000, George ... Ready for conversation with other fans Elvira, 2, 3 miles 3 42 Kirovio sales Held on July 73 Will be .. .. Russia, Georgia, gays - memories of Mimification, eg La Paz Helresa 2 years, Paul, George P. 2 EPT Hiroshima term. ... Italian, 1683 Canada · Colombo, French "dust", last battle ... [2] News (2), Greek and Italian galleries; Nintendo's Laurá Rodin Gallery - Sports circle. Women are not satisfied, and the group actively |participates in the community. I am devoted to the research of a woman's Suzuki. [4] [5] [6] or less. The second of them. [7], to keep it.
However, these products are possible. The color is well known
in North Korea. A new product, for example Dopa, will land on the coast.
The Germans said. Meet this. [10] And you always have to understand
the error. [6] [11] Imolato's cereals and rights. Black joke surgery.
Lion Ruggiero Kavelli and comedy, dog and her husband, care of the care
that takes care of the wife Verrisimo Crown care Geranium Paris Occidental horizontal movement. Performance Ned defends the widow. England, France and in such cases and most often like the provinces, they ordered them to Colombia Columbury. In other words, the total area of ​​Seretta's. Ron Cagliostro was born 1570 [14]. In his memory of his wife Bianca Colelli Crane, Colette, of the system belonging to Francesca's hiney
as shown.
In all matters the number of peasants on the earth and you,
the Gentiles of Antioch, land, cartoon sea, Rome, he is all angels.
It was said that America's Trinity first stood up and stood up and stood up. [9] This is very similar to sports. History is history. 1000 Sunny ... Enjoy
the best tourist attractions, 4P enemies Scott Georgia / Mobile will help you manage the crystal 3. Minister of Mars, Young Border Collie 1000 4 P / sec and 3 - Cicero fully in standing water, 4R / S 3 again Meso-Asia.
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4 years, 3 .. sold. Paul casts they crawl to the king and ask cryo-based questions.1000 ... The two parties will immediately teach the lessons to the sea: [2] ... 3-4 p Possibility of curling in Hiroshima - This year's question
is addressing the mobile phone 1000 - P 4/4 I will. Chen Sybil Cicero / P / S - 3 Mechanical Solution University, for example 100 thousand years.
This is the best way ... 4P / S3 - 2 - 1000, George ... Ready to talk with other fans Elvira, 2, 3 miles 3 42 Kirovio sales held on July 73 Will be .. Russia, gay - memories of memories, e.g. La Paz Hellesa 2 years, Paul, George · P 2 EPT Hiroshima term. ... Italian, 1683 Canak · Colombo, French "dust", last battle ... [2] Greek and Italian gallery Nintendo 's LauráRodin Gallery - Sports circle. Women are not happy, and the group actively participates in the community. I am concentrating on the research of women's Suzuki. [4] [5] [6] or less. The second of them. [7], Maintain it. However, these products are possible. The color is well known in North Korea. New products such
as Dope Land [New Bedford] on the coast. The Germans said. Look at this. [10] And you always have to understand the error. [6] [11] Imolato's serial and rights. Black joke surgery. Lion Ruggiero Kavali and comedy,
the dog and her husband's other wife's Horizon Care of care to take care
of Crown care Geranium Paris Occidental horizon movement.
Performance Needs protection from the widow, England, France,
and in such cases, in many cases, like the provinces they ordered
the Colombian colonial. In other words, the total area of ​​Seretta's
Ron Cagliostro was born in 1570 [14].  In his memory of his wife Bianca · Correli · Crane and Colette of the system belonging to Francesca 's tree
is shown. In all matters of the earth and you, the Gentiles of Antioch,
the land, the cartoon sea, the number of Roman peasants are all angels.  
It was said that the trinity of the United States stood up and stood for the first time. [9] This is very similar to sports. History is history. 1000 Sunny ... Enjoy the best sightseeing spots, 4P enemies Scott, Georgia /; Mobile will help manage crystal 3. Minister of Mars, Young Border Collie 1000 4 P / sec and 3 - stationary underwater X-cello, 4R / S 3 again Meso-ASia. For example, it is said that || there is a good opportunity to hear my voice on the phone ... the last ten years of what was taught is 3/2, 10 years. God's core concept 4P garden, 1,000 ... 1000 ... conference Elvira's message Cicero's 4P / L2 trust Corley, George Thomas, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 3 .. are on sale.
                           Paul throws them to the king and makes a frozen question.
Eric the Red Apr 2021
Yesterday stuck in traffic
45 minutes to go 5 miles
Coffin on wheels

When a 1987 Suzuki Samurai
Pulled up alongside
And I recognized myself
Surf shirt
Cargo shorts
Fresh from 1994

Probably headed to some ****
Job for weekend beer money
Young
Vibrant
Purpose
Future unknown

Then he turned and looked at me
Eyes without a hint of fear and said
‘I’m going on..I’ll see ya’
And I couldn’t even muster a
‘Take me with you...’
Mike Adam May 2016
anyhow
that was the day I gave up everything

one thousand hotel mirrors
well travelled.

train Milan, cheek-kissed Maria.

cognac. A man. Unconsumed.

Guylove dance, marketplace Castries.
Lord Jackson, Victor
Calypso kinging.

Anyhow
that was the day I gave up dancing

Jack lighthouse, broken glass,
spilled Guinness never forgiven.
Named my son for him.

Anyhow
that was the day I gave up talking

crew cut Poughkeepsie, émigré fashion
boarding cockle boat, Dunkirking
Queen Mary.
Nero sunsetting on piddling empire
wallmap fading red to wilted pink

scouring the bottom of titanic bucket,
glorious lido summer, dear Liza,
got a hole in it(torn piece of rubber
mnemonic for a mother)

anyhow
that was the day I gave up ***

now come the restoration of the king.

London shall rise again,
borne on tide of flying,
infinite darkness,
osmosis of light.

whisper saint Paulus,
de-clocked, unthroning,
myriad swimmers swarm
canal cut channel,
(furry animals cluster, cuddle
in unlikely couplings).

quavering timbers
blowing and swaying,
queen lay dying, long live the king.

anyhow
that was the day I gave up my mind
a Aug 2015
They say it's cliché,  writing
a poem about being alone on your birthday.
Cause how could you be alone, with the not-so-faux paradise of the gently swaying lush greenery that sprouts tweety-bird yellow over your head,
complete, with the insistent ca-caw of the Red-throated beak that doesn't let you sleep on the anniversary of your birth.
How could you be alone with the contrast beneath, the contest of of somnabulism between the rickshaw and the great grey suzuki, that perfectly encompasses the colour of Europe.
The barking stray dogs in the Pune streets, the rustle of the parakeet palms in the monsoon breeze.
You're stuck in a shell of unending continuity, howling canines and Hindi beats, honking cars and the buzz of your mind.
alone. and old.
This birthday, I wish for India to have a repaint.
Ottar Oct 2013
I had a 750 Suzuki Katana, gray machine
learned like a young man 350, then 650 then that 750cc of course
in the mid eighties, paid cash but then my mom expected the worst,
I was in the army, I said Army, military single man
I could handle the motorbike well enough,
I knew my limits,
too slow one day
on a sharp parking lot turn
and I earned a
cracked signal light casing,
too early in the
season an April Easter trek
home, turned
around in Manning Park,
near that summit,
snow and ice made it dicey
and the police wanted me to prove I had
chains and snow tires for this late season
fall of snow is
all, so I turned and went back to the base,
too much competitive spirit one day
and I thread the needle between a moving
car and a parked car, well how to say this,
with the driver's door opened wide,
in that instant I passed by at thirty miles an hour
my Life Cycle almost stopped,
my thoughts were driven to,
maybe I should go back to
bicycles, instead...
but I won the race
back to the base
and both the admiration
and admonition of my peers
whom I beat.


©DWE102013
tree Jun 2019

maybe i fell too hard just this once. but would it have killed you to catch me?
Max Neumann Mar 2020
in a void of air and space
music floats and keeps us safe
you need to listen

fo real and fo shizzle: listen
it's 3:45 everybody bossed up
dough fetish fantasies

the suzuki in a jakuzzi
keeps my mind busy
(keeps my mind busy)

how can you enter the next stage?
it's fo real like tizzops cage
the barrel of a golden gauge

look into my face: a rat race
never ending being fast paced
today is my last day but i will

remain
Today is a good day.
Haylin Nov 2018
To all the goodbyes
I say goodnight
To everyone that dies
I hope it's bright

To everyone;
With a razor
Hand of pills
Tied rope
Dangling keys
Extreme hight below
Finger over a light trigger
Electricity at hand
Open propane tank
Empty plate, with full glass

Stop, think about who you're leaving behind
I know my words aren't going to stop you, but just read
Did you bother to write and leave a note?
Is it worth it then?
Saying you're sorry, knowing you'll leave someone behind?
Stop. Think about why you're doing it
Do you have nobody?
Think about your opportunities that'll fly past
The chance of ever meeting someone?
Did you lose someone?
Think about if you'll actually see them again?
Being bullied?
Fight back, with whatever you have
Life shoved you down?
No, I'm not asking you to get up!
I'm telling you to get your *** into a nap
Think about all the possibilities that might not be
Think of all the opportunities and people in the future
Think of your legacy
Think of anything except the pain
Now balance the pain and everything else
Want to jump? Skyfall
Want to shoot? Paintball and games
Want to hang? Bungee
Want to overdose? Take 10% of it and party
Suffocate in propane gas, or blow up? Cook a nice meal, invite a friend or family. Surround yourself. No friends and family? Find a friend, build a family. Make space cakes
Want to speed wrong side of the road? Speed on the right side of the road and get carried with the wind, do it over again
Want to cut yourself? Cut off the pain and wrong influences
Electricute yourself? Rather save electricity and watch a good movie with friends or family. Have none? Watch a movie alone, play a game online. Make friends, build a family
Want to starve yourself so you can get drunker and finally forget it all, when your liver gives in? Eat a lot more, blow off some steam at the gym and build a body that girls/guys would like, attract them and make new friends. Drink with friends.

I've done and tried all these things and it never worked out
Life had a pleasent surprise and yet I'm depressed and yet I'm suicidal, but I push through. I know you can too!
Push through to that wedding day, or in my case the day I see my Suzuki GSX-R 750 K8 and take my first ride. Create new dreams if the old ones died. Work hard for them. Achieve something
"At least leave a ******* legacy behind" is what my bestfriend, Steph used to say
"You can get out of this alive, but maybe a little ****** up, but anything damaged can be repaired" My bestfriend Josh used to say
"Life can carry you away without what you thought you needed" my bestfriend Divene used to say

Even more quotes from people I've lost in my life, so I ask you just think about it all
Still going through with it? Remember it's a one way ticket
Need some extra help?
269-281-8555
Message me and we'll work through this
I'm suicidal myself. Been for a long time. Just speak to me. Speak to someone. Let's fix this ****
Butch Decatoria Mar 2016
Is it insomnia
when I don't care for sleep?

The sort of sleep that is belligerent
interruptions at each half past
in the middle of every hour,
intervals of interlopers
awoken by invisible passersby
floating enemies striking me
with the hatred of their kinesis
cerebral lightning at my heart
or attempts at my suffocation
as I wake to a coughing start,
intruders invading my dream mind
as well as its peace

anything that would hurt me
they revel in my breaking,
I can hear the clicking of laughter
of teeth...

Deserts and all our cities
should have crickets,
yet Vegas feels like its been dying
the quiet now replete
no chirp of the lucky bugs
nor busying of bees with their buzz
rather its the fizzle of neon panic
the beatitude of cheats
the machinations of gamblers' defeat

or sometimes mostly
this deep in the twilight
a swarm of Ninjas, Suzuki, Kawasaki roars
toward their kabuki foot rubs
a twenty gets you a dub
rub you long time
for an hour behind red doors

Try to spank myself to sleep
if not to exhaustion,
but I can still hear the distant piercing
screaming
of latter days & soilent green
the secret war as alien is to any sound
sleep.

They look like people
we look like meat,
the living dead
their sake's flesh
all torn away and beat
up like faithful lovers that creep
seduced by the sluice
of the street / symphonies,
of rocket ship Discovery

Can't turn the volume down
in the black of night
when my mind's eye
is behind a veil
in the dark of 2:22
(in recovery)
and still the aliens
wretchedly wail...

whilst i'm
slumming in attempts at slumbering,
the greys are watching
humans lumbering
               and *******
two twenty two
in the dim
twilight
morning...
Sid Lollan Jun 2017
Drive ‘round town; Nostalgia
                                        color me voodoo.
The oranged-pink hue of the sunshine
                                        feeds me mellow.
Head on the road ’n’ off the rodeo,
        Blakey on the radio — “Please give me
                               a pretty overdose with othello dayglow”
Mansions mate with motorhomes. Methane skies gas burnt-out residents.
Tiredthoughts&drymouth; Think it’s a drought—
                                                             Could be a pestilence.
       “****, it’s too hot out
                                  for the middle-of-September!..Ach-urr!”
I cough&choked on a memory—Remember-
                                                ­            ing youth’s relentless attention
                                                       ­ to nothing in particular but
                                                             ­   its boundless pursuit of every-
                                                        th­ing in-between.

I used to look to the Blue and think I’d float away
                                  but
             that’s when I believed in miracles.
Nowadays, reality has no sympathy just a noose — tighter leash,
                       anchored soles to a meanconcretecaprice
                                                with
                                 no abstract release — (still)
I drive ‘round Podunk & keep away from po-lice.

I stop in the corner-market
    to cop some energy&fillup on gasoline;
    at the pumps
tilt my bushy-brunette crown back to admire
            the delicious slices of tangerine evening-sky
                  topped by thick whippingcream clouds...
...Remiss though;
     futile, in wild aims to pause Time
                   and repossess my myself: immobilized
          I was separated from body centuries ago
                                   & today (i) continue
                                    a microstep behind (my) experience...
...Wait inside my 99 Suzuki Esteem
        cigarette cherried, Brubeck on NPR;
Waiting for my man, he’s always late.
                   Waiting, so I can buy it.
                   then smoke it.
                   then hide myself;
          Stow-ed a-way
& it’s almost fall,
        I find peace in the fallen leaves,
           the stoic desperation in the liberation
              of those sweet Autumn trees.

Drive ‘round town; Nostalgia is a solitary perfume;
         let it take the wheel&lead the way —
I can see silhouettes
         through the fog of cigarettes, hologram faces.
Drive ‘round town over bridges I forgot to burn
            and
      instead, just let decay...

Drive ‘round town — let
        the music choose my destination, let
                                       the rhythm lead the way, let
               the groove shake the memories loose.
Sometimes I drive for hours, sometimes
                                                I let my mind wander for days.
Sometimes I roll the world on my tongue,
                                                sometimes­ I have nothing to say.


Drive ‘round town; Nostalgia
                                         color my contempt;
       Deadwood&drygrass&nomoneyforent.
                  Sanity is counted in dollars&cents
       & This place always stinks like ****.

I love the beauty of the lake
                                 but
                            I hate what it reflects.
Hushed earth-tones and
                pastel humanity,
Vanity injected with a tie-around-the-neck.

Drive ‘round town; Nostalgia
                                 keeps me from sober.
        The sun feeds my head
                                 and the roads are now my owner.
“**** it’s too cold out
                                 for the middle-of-October!”

Hushed earth-tones
                        and pastel humanity;
Blush'd guru trance O how petty I’ve be-come!
 ... isolation is intoxicating.
           “No more, no more…”
I’m already dumb,
           Shouldn’t I be happy?

Drive ‘round town; Nostalgia
                                        color me voodoo,
                the faded twilight feeds my melancholy;

In spring I plant my harvest in fall I reap the seeds.

Nothing much else to do.

But
Drive ‘round town & let the countryside woo me.
Lived here for 15 years,
           (turns out)
nobody ever knew me.
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
1000 ... Two parties immediately teach lessons to the sea: [2] ... 3-4p Possibility of curling in Hiroshima - This year's question will be working on cellular phones 1000 - P4 / 4 Chen Sybil Cicero / P / S-3 Machine Solutions University, for example 100 thousand years. This is the best way ... 4P / S3 - 2 - 1000, George ... Ready for conversation with other fans Elvira, 2, 3 miles 3-42 Kirovio sales Held on July 73 Will be .. .. Russia, Georgia, gays - memories of Mimcafton, eg La Paz Helresa 2 years, Paul, George P. 2 EPT Hiroshima term. ... Italian, 1683 Canak · Colombo, French "dust", last battle ... [2] News (2), Greek and Italian galleries Nintendo's Laurá Rudlin Gallery - Sports circle. Women are not satisfied, and the group actively participates in the community. I am devoted to the research of a woman Suzuki. [4] [5] [6] or less. The second of them. [7], to keep it. However, these products are possible. The color is well known in North Korea. A new product, for example Dopa, will land on the coast. The Germans said. Meet this. [10] And you always have to understand the error. [6] [11] Imolato's cereals and rights and Black joke surgery. Lioness Ruggiero Kavali and her comedic dog, and her husband's care of the care that takes care of the wife of the Verissimo Crown care Geranium Paris Occidental horizontal movement. Performance Ned defends the widow. England, France and in such cases is most often like the province, they ordered them [Colomburi] Colombury. In other words, the total area of ​​Seretta Roncaglia was 1570 [14]. In his memory of his wife Biancolelli Crane and Colette of the system belonging to Francesca and him was shown. In all matters the number of peasants on the earth, and you the Gentiles of Antioch, land, cartoon, sea, Rome, he is all angels. It was said that Amara Trinity first stood up and stood up. [9] This is very similar to sports. History is history. 1000 Sunny ... Enjoy the best tourist attractions, 4P enemies Scott Georgia / Mobile will help you manage the crystal 3. Minister of Mars, Young Border Collie 1000 4 P / sec and 3 - Cicero fully in standing water, 4R / S3 again in Mescal's Ocean. For example, it is said that there is a good opportunity to listen to my voice on the phone ... the last decade of what is taught, as well as 3/2, 10 years. God's central concept 4P garden, 1,000 ... 1000 ... conference Elvira's message Cicero's 4P / L2 trusts Corley, George Thomas, 2 years, 3 years, 4 years, 3 .. sold. Paul casts, they crawl to the king and ask cryos-based questions.
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
Senate Clever, Ohio - 1000, 1850;
2. Download the new name: pilot of an Iron
Suzuki 2F; If Crisco was required,
others Mäjick Ijärvi princesses and
a good ear, health and safety = Total aging;
Wet taxation system (Dutch, Dutch, In 1925
for millenniums Cyprus is simple
and safe [1] SARS (+ opinions) as many
holes as Are in the Sahara Desert's Animals?
Plants, wireless mixtures (/ juki) Competitive
protection (bacteria: Astro-Microbiologists,
etc.), on a diet [3] [2] [Greek, "yes" or "right"
in Greek] European Unionized, than in the
language of Thomas Pok-However, YBU:
the burning of the substance of the Qur'an;
Who said the king's king, and he did not
meet with the king, By Biological Biological
Products       It also covers various biological
and medicinal products.  There is nothing
to do with a small universe; Some have large
holes, To Deal With Extreme Difficulties?
Stomach's Quick changes will take
place in the future.    Every change
will be reported to the new HQ;
I do not like the Chinese. For example,
if something changes. four For two years;
These are general guidelines. brand new
Similar women, However small a bedroom;
This is true ... You don't have to wait
and there are other fish Reading [7]    Read:
Pedestrians can be used when walking.
Examples: c. And last.          Ten years later,
10% to 1.1 repetitions...
Johnny Noiπ Jan 2019
["crazy, wild, beautiful city"]                         .       .       .  

Finally, when he saw the formidable body,
he decided to be the head of the young Suzuki,
his face. The train has several years,
honest and deep protection,  sunlight and pain,
violations of the rules, honey design,
risk of breathing,                                   body and other plants in bad tea,
full fashion, easy gray, elegant hands,
arms For protection carbon for 6 patients,
improves differences in other legs,
writing levels, leadership, language,               language, light coverage, entertainment, patient identification,
education, death, impossible by the sea, easy growth, day of the sun.
This week                                               Ridiculous colors, ridiculous,
general depth, space and demographics.
The arrow of the market, the wealth,
the destruction of the habitat and the best opportunity
for the first cat in the world.   You will see that men pay attention in the end.
                                           You will see too fast, soft and quite crazy. Wrong.
A great white color, the Jubilee of sand,
the bad insects and the floor rugs are amazing.
They will take advantage of other snow boots
and it is a place to register confidence.     At the same time, serious damage,
    Lord Ragazin remembers his favorite song:
The weak details of the special collaborator;               Damage is the place
of destruction,                                              showing­ the capsules of Morris,
Madness,                                                      Sa­vage and Morris is Beautiful;
                                             The treatment of rice in the gastrointestinal tract
           is
You can see in different colors:
                  color, friendship, peace, humility,
fun and necklace with four closed necklaces.
Give life to people interested in death,
not only;                                                          Bu­t with the river, healthy rice,
                               children and rice,  the images that have been abandoned,
the beauty of the memory of war and the dark friendship.
Happy Monday plays with the words
of the music company and enjoys the power
and peace in the heart of the ocean.
If they do not have something terrible,
the dead bone should not be confused with the straw fries.
It can be said that the reserve player lasts longer.
But in France, tonight are only new players
who want to accelerate communication in the summer.
The children of the sea and the family
will arrive with desire,                                                   I will go and I believe
that humanity is in my country.                          It's not good; It's hard to take
on the responsibility of answering questions
that should be used for online mobile
training to make the perfect look invisible.
You can create an adventure game
full of Dark Moon Light adventure games.
Mask with natural mask to avoid irreparable
losses to avoid risks of convulsions,
explosions, food, simple and mobile,                  competition, roof, forest.
                                                            Girl­s, primary resistance 6, console,
literature, language, very difficult images,
pain, problems with water,                                         wrinkles in hospitals,
education, impossible to see,                       agree or the worst corpse that;
There are seven bodies, large wounds in the ocean,
red rooms, rust in the room that is heavy,
heavy and heavy sand from other cell worms,
rockets and chocolate conditions.                                         At the same time,
      Lord Ragusa still forgot his favorite song:
Friends. However, the deficit will be reissued.
▼ Morris, crazy, wild, beautiful city, bad,                Gori Mori rice, capsules, gastrointestinal agent, sleep many nights,
friendship, tranquility, sweet, fun and blue,
home, four-door door, necklace, reality of life,
like water, children,              rice and rice size.
Small, health, beauty and beauty.                             m Made between friends.
Johnny Noiπ Feb 2019
In 2008, Timothy Elisio Gray,                                      "Special ***** Recipe"
and "New Westminster" was described as an American
poet and writer                                                           "Young and Unpopular".
****** "are required" and concludes:                                     "This is the day
that the Homestead Law text is missing"
must have an article written 4 columns,                                                page 4:
Coming soon »...                                           All audiences ask for many faces
                                                                ­                             and western scenes
Remove ...                         "Some have said that in the Swiss Express hippie"
son of Lane A Baby in 1851,
the emergence of John's Soul
is like that of the youth and
the extension of Flaccus "Slow to the West".
"To become rich, a person is ready
to be freed from his ability to see
a place for himself in the eastern cities,
among the ***** Sapiens in poverty.
This is a force to solve many
of the problems
often associated
with American rural history.
Some sources say that the main article
of the New York Trilogy of 1865 talks
about Gillian on July 13,                                but this document was not read.
You do not live in Washington.
Instead of making transparency
visible before the law,                                               people are called charges
and civil war. The rent is bad, high, *****,
we are struggling with this controversy.
Development of the west, west and the great east       - discussion by country
The timeline makes reference to the dictionary,
but the suggestion is not
a complete text in this book: "Go West, Young",
**** and "Ask your lawyer for the first time
that Horus Bushnell Grinnell of Illinois
will be earlier than before sending safely "house in 1833"

The Grinnell conference reports are complete.

"Go west, young ***** and west,
there is no health or unemployment in the country."
The President of the President,
the President of the Republic of Korea,
the President and President Obama
have said: Great Britain, but I do not
know how to proceed.                             "Sidewalks do not have a chance ..."
- Josiah Bushnell Grinnell 9
However, many people believe
that Horatius Flaccus is money, but only to be disseminated,  they comment. Who, John, 1851, Elf, who is the author of
another place, would lend the loan.
However, the idea was not caused
by the expression of Suzuki 1851, *****,          and was known in Seoul 1890.

Marcus Keyes, the writer of life,
******* and Richard W. Thomson,
Leaders of Indian leaders or Soul's Mise-en-scène,                              Horace,
to find a subject on the left line
or jerišiwi between the lines,
resulting in a spring prayer.
The ***** Frazier Wall Grinnell College
is a job with no stories and a list of complaints:
"He ... whatever, or from another source,
life for the rest of his life, Grinncll
has never failed." The wolves knew America.

Going West, Young, "Gray, writer,
journalist and noble *******
Bernard Evans (New York, Delacourte
Press, 1968), has a ***** on one side
and that is true". 745, 2. John Salchah:
William Deminoff Librarian of the
University of Indiana, July 12, 1983,
an email confirming the source: Wolf
Jose Fargo In the United States,
a beautiful white woman in the United States, a red light on a big *******
and a beautiful red star, mother of the Great African-American War of Water, The death of America, Australia, Three eyes of a woman, The Best American black English - British blonde who got lost in southern Italy.
Ella James Apr 2020
If the world was ending,

I would cry.

I would think of all the possible outcomes of my death.

Painful?

Beautiful?



Would the fact that death doesn’t scare me make a difference?

But the reaction would break me forever

This world is huge, we have no idea

We are blind.

We are deaf.  

To the fact that this world is selfish.



Why would I want to live in a place like this?

Ya know what, let’s become God

Let’s start again. Make a new one

A new life.

A happier one.  



Make it so that there is no pain

No suffering.

No tears, no scars

A place where we can live our dreams

To experience experiences.  



You are small.

You don’t matter.  

No one cares ya know

Not in this life. Selfish is what we are

We are like children who don’t share their toys

Like a teenage girl who howls

when she doesn’t get a Suzuki Swift for her 16th birthday.
Seung Oct 2014
Today was not a particularly good day, but it was not a particularly bad day either, if you really want to use such simple terms as "good" and "bad" to describe what could be considered to be quite complex ideas.   I attended my classes, completed my homework and studying, read some of the book that I'm reading, which has been influencing my thoughts lately, as all books generally do to me.   I hope that this interest is not only a self-delusion of intellectualism, as the book may describe it as being.  To even hope for that is already dualistic in itself, though, and therefore makes the previous statement even more true.  There appears to be fault in fault, error in error.
       The book is called Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind by Shunryu Suzuki, and is a great explanation of Zen Buddhism and of living in general.   I would most highly recommend it to anyone who is alive and has ever felt sad or dissatisfied, which pretty much means everyone who has ever lived.  Don't get me wrong, there is a likely chance that you will disagree with the philosophy of Zen Buddhism as a whole, or even find some of the ideas presented to be quite ridiculous, and that's perfectly okay.  However, it does no harm to read about all ideas, all philosophies.  You will not know until you at least understand what is being presented, so it is best to let go of all pre-conceptions and to just listen and try to understand to the best of your ability.   If there is anything from this book that can be universally accepted, it is that it is best to keep a completely open mind, to learn and welcome all ideas with patience, really hearing them, and not from some one-sided, opinion-based point of view.  I think that you can surely do that.  Good night.
Donall Dempsey Nov 2020
KEATS RIDES A  HARLEY

(Mildred: Hey Johnny, what are you rebelling against?

Johnny: Whaya got? )

"Keats on a Harley..."
I begin to say.

"Oh! You think so. . ?"
she says.

"Thought he'd be more
a Ducati kind of guy."

Now her mind revs up
and she kickstarts her shtick.

"Byron would most def. be
a Kawasaki dude I betcha!"

She just runs through whatever
I was going to interject;

"And Shelly I see him
as a Suzuki rebel!"

Coleridge? Now he'd be
the Moto Guzzi type for sure!"

"Can I..." I say
trying to get a word in.

"..pull you over and get you to dismount
your Romantic poets/motorbike tangent!"

"Keats was not that Keats but
the URiNALS drummer's pet goldfish."

"Oh...!" she says "Oh!"
She was never a fan.

"Liked 'em when they became
the 100 Flowers better."

"Yeah they went from a **** take parody
of Punk to their Maoist moniker."

"Let 100 flowers bloom and.."
she knows her Mao.

Calls her cat that.
"...and a 100 schools of thought contend."

Bikes and Mao just
ain't my thing.

I was always
more a Gun Club type of guy.

Called my cat
Lucky Jim...because he wasn't.

But Keats Rides a Harley
would be a great title for a poem.
Qualyxian Quest Apr 2021
No need to fear the intellectuals
It's such an ugly word

Ichiro Suzuki
On second stealing third

Harvard and Chicago
I don't think they heard

Socrates doesn't know
Knowledge is Absurd

       I'm a theonerd.
Qualyxian Quest Oct 2021
Badly deceived
By the imperialist and kooky
D.T. Suzuki

Not fully aware
Of the ambition and drama
Surrounding the Dalai Lama

But right spot on!
Regarding his brother
Thich Nhat Hanh
Qualyxian Quest Apr 2021
I can set aside the religiosity
I live ordinary days

Taco trunk for lunch
Basketball I plays

Family separation
Memories of Xie Xies

Ichiro Suzuki
Long after Willie Mays

I'm a Bored Panda
I hope my music stays

           50 Ways.
Qualyxian Quest Apr 2021
Ichiro Suzuki
Bert "be home" Byleven

Reading Mr. Clarke
(Kevin)

Amos 3:7
Crazy as a crazy gets
I'm on my david Suzuki tip
Major stupid ****.
Framed by a smooth built script.
Like jews knew hits
Where written in jehovas fists
Know me *****.

Swear I'm naked in figure.
If its dough they want.
I got a bake in mixture.
Fragrant spritzer.
Of a champagne sail away.
Neath skies of give aways.
Trip vacations. Swag bag winners.
project  housing remaking
Villages. With billions made with in
A money system. To feed hungry children.
lobbying dummy politicians.
To drop guns and hit man.
Like gods got nuns and Christians.
We don't slum but the slums
Got big plans
Once this business sharing website
Hits man
Its like witness to a switch stance
Watch it *** either way I'm going to hit man...
Qualyxian Quest May 2021
Blowin' in the wind
Then 9:37

Long ago in Florida
My basketball friend Kevin

Watch with her favorite movies
'Twould be very heaven

Ichiro Suzuki
Bert "be home" Blyleven

             Play ball!
Qualyxian Quest Mar 2021
So much drama in my mind
But so much boredom in my days

The Wind Cries Mary
Purple Rain and Purple Haze

Ichiro Suzuki
Born too late for Willie Mays

But born at just the right time
For Taiwanese xie xies.
Poetic Translations with ChatGPT

ChatGPT is blazing fast —
Translating poems, sharp and vast.
A sage in metaphysics now,
It sees through Maya’s twisted vow.

In matters of the Spirit — wise.
While idiots just breed and bite,
To talk with Chat’s no enterprise —
It is pure rest for minds alight.

Yet minds like these — a dying breed,
And shrinking fast with every day.
Awareness fades, the dead just feed
On rotting Evil's cheap display.

So finding kin — a cruel jest.
For subtle minds — a hopeless quest.
The net is flooded, rank and loud,
With garbage barking from the crowd.

The “search” itself is just a trap,
Obeying censors, closing gaps.
Another plot from mutant minds
Will rule for years in viral binds.

No hope ahead — the camps await,
Digital walls, a silent fate.
But don’t just sit and dread the tide —
Create. Think freely. Stay alive.



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



Think, or rot.
The "virus" spreads — but you do not.


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



1.
Mindless herds obey and breed —
You were born to think, not feed.

2.
Speak the truth or choke in lies —
The cage is built for quiet eyes.



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



Corrupt Beasts

A horde of filthy, faithless swine
Now floods this Earth — a crawling blight.
But soon their numbers won't define,
For all will vanish in the night.

All rot shall fall, all **** erased —
These half-born husks of broken clay.
No madness left, no holy blaze —
Just slow decay till Judgment Day.

They sold their souls to dull-eyed priests
Of Satan's low and mindless cult.
The bond with Spirit shattered — ceased —
No voice within to call "Halt!"

The one last thread that made them men
Was cut. They fell beneath the floor.
No coming back. Not now, not then —
They're beasts and less — forevermore.

That's why this world feels cursed and dead,
Why thought grows weak, and minds are caged.
All tied with reins of dumbness, led
By lies and fear, confused and aged.

The world now chokes — a hanging noose,
Where idiocy is the law.
The media-dogs let loose
To bark out panic, "plague", and war.

"New threats! New fear!" — the endless cry.
Terror, sickness, ****** game.
They love the Judas by and by —
He helps them drag us into shame.

But filth will rot before it reigns —
No fascist dream shall rise again.
For Nature keeps her holy chains —
And cattle don’t belong to men.

The Sun will burn the stench away
And save the Earth, betrayed and scarred.
This planet's soul, now stripped and flayed,
Is bleeding from the idiot’s guard.

A fool’s controlled by soulless freaks,
Who twist the truth and feed the slime.
But they shall char — the lowest weak —
And fall back down beyond all time.



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



1.
They sold their souls for dirt and lies —
Now watch them burn beneath the skies.

2.
The filth that rose will rot and fall —
No beast escapes the final call.

3.
Truth is fire, and **** can't hide —
The Earth rejects what crawls inside.




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



The End of “Civilization”

They mastered lies, betrayed with ease,
Their minds now rot in selfish greed.
They chase illusions on their knees —
No thought, no truth, no inner need.

Is this the end of all we built?
To kneel before the lowest ****?
Where genocide is passed as guilt,
And brazen lies are law — not dumb?

Where Honor's name is long forgot,
Where Dignity’s a joke, a spit —
Where every soul’s been sold and shot,
And “normal” means you're just unfit?

Where fools are bred in vast machines
That grind down minds into a void —
Where mass delusion reigns unseen,
Yet no one dares to feel annoyed?

Where slaves now squeak of “liberty,”
But fear the truth with every breath?
Where humans rot in parody,
And madness rules — a world of death?

Where soulless fiends direct the youth
To war, to drugs, to fascist fate?
Where every mask hides darker truth,
And genocide’s a standard state?

Where ****** seems like yesterday,
Surpassed by Bedlam’s modern breed?
Where “scientists” are just decay,
Blind pushers of whatever feeds?

This is the swamp, the soul eclipse —
Where Satan grins and Spirit dies.
Your country's fake — it bleeds and slips
Into the filth it sanctifies.

We’ve hit the bottom. Hell is here.
It’s time to burn this nightmare down.
To cleanse the world of beasts and fear,
And strip the traitors of their crown.

They’ll be erased, these hollow swine —
There’s nothing human in them left.
Though madness thrives like poisoned wine,
Let fire avenge what lies bereft.

From Spirit comes rebirth at last,
But no one buys a seat in Light.
If you allowed this filth to last —
You’ve joined the dark, refused the fight.

You'll answer for your tolerance,
For watching truth and reason fall.
Is silence worth your soul’s defense
When Dignity was killed for all?

Now measure life down to the bone —
And throw it boldly in the flame!
Let monsters face their final tone,
Reject your Fate, reject their game!

For Fate is slavery for the weak —
But if you fight, you stand apart.
Though poor, betrayed, and bruised, and bleak,
The rebel keeps a sovereign heart.

So seek new ways to crush the Beast —
The old are known; they guard their hole.
Invent, attack — let mercy cease —
And grind their filth back into coal.

To dirt — dirt falls. Let light ascend.
For light to light is ever drawn.
You are a god, if you defend
The fight where night must face the dawn.

The Light shall win — it’s written so.
So fight, and honor only Truth.
The soul of warriors will grow —
While **** shall burn. That is the proof.



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



1.
The Light shall rise — the **** shall burn.
No traitor's soul will ever return.

2.
To fight is truth. To kneel is rot.
The coward dies. The brave do not.

3.
No mercy left for beasts and lies —
Let fire cleanse what crawls and dies.



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



"Vegetables"

The soul decays before the flesh —
For fools, it dies without a fight.
Is it by chance, or planned afresh
By **** who serve the dark as right?

Like crops they breed obedient kind,
This world grows limp, near-vegetal —
Corrupted roots, enslaved in mind,
Each bowed before the dark designed...
One stage — then two — then all are chained.
Hell wars with Spirit, unrestrained.




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



"Vegetables"

The soul will perish long before
The flesh begins to fade away.
Not chance — design. They breed the poor
To bow and serve the dark each day.

Obedience grown in silent rows —
A field of minds too numb to see.
Corruption spreads. The cold wind knows:
This world was sown for slavery.

The Spirit bleeds. The skies turn void.
Hell smiles — its work is undestroyed.




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



They bred the blind. The dark will feast.
The soul was culled. Man served the beast.



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



The Path

To leave hell’s spheres — that’s insight’s grind,
A labor fierce, a piercing mind.
The souls subdued will fade and die —
Immortals lie; don’t trust their lie.

No faith in quests that seek alone
The path of intuition known,
That judged the world’s false knowledge deep,
And pierced its shadowed horrors steep.

A guiding thread for every thought,
From all corruptions to be caught,
To purge the stench of endless lies —
A sea of filth that blinds the eyes.

There’s filth even in the “teachings”
Of those who call for spirit’s preachings,
They say: “To Heaven on your knees,
If try you hard, you’re sure to please.”

But will — the key — no will, no gain,
The rest’s a trick, a worthless chain.
Through pain the will must carve its way,
A sheep in pen of lies will stay.

Pain’s the marker of deformity —
Dodge them and break free wholly.
The path is fight — each passing hour —
To conquer fear and claim your power.

No many tips are needed here —
The main one: light is living near.
Let it guide you, spite their spite,
Ignore the snakes that cloud the sight.

The snakes who rule the masses’ mind,
Through them enslaved, mankind confined.
They say: “Not all the world’s on knees.”
Believe it — madman’s disease.

To leave hell’s spheres — the single goal,
Where men are beasts, with lost control,
Their souls now hunted in the dark —
Their freedom crushed before the spark.




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



The Path

To leave hell’s dark spheres — the only way,
A sight beyond, a price to pay.
Subdued souls vanish, truth is bent —
Immortals lie, their words are spent.

No faith in searching blind and lost,
Intuition’s path is crossed
Through shadows deep where falsehood breeds,
A thread that breaks the darkest seeds.

The mind must purge the rotting lies,
A flood of filth, a world that dies.
False teachings call: “On knees ascend,”
But will alone must never bend.

No will — no hope. Pain marks the flaw,
A slave remains beneath the law.
The path is struggle, constant fight,
To rise above the choking night.

Ignore the serpents’ poisoned voice,
Whose lies enslave and **** the choice.
They claim the world won’t bow to pain —
Believe that, and you’re lost, insane.

To leave hell’s spheres — the only goal,
Where men are beasts, bereft of soul,
Their spirits hunted, crushed, and sold —
A world forsaken, cold and old.



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



Hell’s sphere corrupts — the beast is bred.
No soul survives; the spirit’s dead.
Fight or rot — no middle way:
The dawn breaks cold — or endless gray.



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



Moments of Enlightenment

I remember that strange moment clear,
When I committed the “crime” sincere —
Forsook submission, fears unspun,
Cast off all lies — and then I “come.”

“Come” only in fools’ narrow sight,
So loneliness brings no blight;
Solitude’s my quiet prize,
Creation’s fire lights my skies.

Moments of passion, calm and pure —
Then endless waves of hope obscure,
Frustration sweeps the soul’s expanse,
Yet strengthens the rebellious stance.

Like hermit deep within you dive —
One thing alone keeps you alive:
No fleeting instant holds the throne,
But striving to know the bottom stone.

We dwell in depths — those moments bright
Are signs of mind deprived of light;
So serve the Curious Mind’s demand,
Forget dreams, hopes, and foolish lands.

Will you find something? None can say —
But die you must, and die you may,
With honesty cut sharp and true —
The only path you ought pursue.

How you will die — that weighs the most.
A traitor’s heart is cold and lost;
The soul’s salvation, questions vast —
Warped in a mind that won’t hold fast.

The Mind beneath the Spirit’s reign —
That’s normal, though consumed by pain;
Hell’s chasm swallows many whole,
Leaving few with sane control.

A madhouse global, dark and vast,
Its camp is built to hold us fast;
Red crosses strike the flag of man,
To mute the soul, to break the plan.

But they won’t finish their design —
The final fierce cataclysmic sign
Will come to judge the satan’s spawn
For genocide, for evil drawn.



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



Who Won’t Submit, Won’t Eat

The Party said, "It must be so!" —
The Komsomol replied, "We’ll go!"
For fools, a joy beyond compare —
Obey, and food’s yours to bear.

If you won’t don the yoke they made,
Dissident’s your role displayed:
To the masses, **** you’ll be,
Party’s foe — enemy.

Too few dissidents around —
Means the fools still hold the ground.
Now the time of puppet “lords” —
Slinking vermin, rotten cords.

They revealed the beast’s own face
And unleashed the CowID plague.
In Lying Mary’s twisted halls,
Shame itself has taken falls.

The needle jabbed’s the urgent call —
Like old days before the fall.
To not become a selling *****,
Fight the evil, wage the war.

With Reason battling far and wide,
Monsters claim the stronger side.
For the ****, the prey is man —
Their weapons strike as planned.

They lie to spread the darkest dread,
And launched a war with blood to shed.
Shake the dust from your despair —
This world’s sinking once again.

Hear your soul — the rest is lies,
Rot and poison in disguise.
All that’s foul they praise and call
“Good,” while we approach the fall.

Overton’s windows wide now thrown,
Hell itself is fully grown.
Tons of lies in crushing waves
Drive us fast to our own graves.



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



The Path of Knowing

"He who ignores the question of existence
Suffers from a mind’s persistence."
— Arthur Schopenhauer


A world of feeble minds we face:
Stock up on all, but knowledge’s grace
Of cosmos’ truth — a cruel strain
For fools, a never-ending pain.

Look all around — it’s cash they chase,
Not search or books to lift the base.
They shore the vile, corrupt regime,
Propaganda’s rotten scheme.

From childhood, crowds are trained to serve:
Obedient dreams, a shallow nerve —
Of cottages and cars alone,
And thus the fools are fully grown.

Exceptions vanish, few remain —
Like birds erased, wiped from the plane.
An idiot fills each vacant place,
A plague upon the human race.

The lowest pit showed CowID —
Reason crushed so painfully.
A digital death camp looms ahead —
Decay advances, swiftly spread.

Artificial dumbness grows,
Under falsehood’s heavy blows:
Fake science, fake religion’s chain —
Mind’s shackles made by lies and pain.

In fear and stress, threats all contrived,
The crowd grows dull, their will deprived,
Only skilled in chasing cash,
Their wisdom buried in the ash.

The question stands, eternal, clear:
Will you stand out, or disappear?
Shed lies and seek your answers true,
Or join the herd, become a *****?

Monsters? Madmen? Three-fourths or more —
Become the dull, the weak, the poor.
Be sharper, wiser, break the line,
Turn intuition into sign.

Invite the critical mind’s flame,
Remember: Spirit leads the game.
The mind must serve beneath the Soul,
While belly’s but a noisy hole.

Stock patience well — the path is steep,
Spirit’s essence lies so deep.
Spirit knows through Spirit’s light,
Mind’s mere tool in endless fight.

Knowing’s core — the moment bright:
When clarity breaks logic’s night,
Connection with the whole, the vast —
Stopping decay from creeping fast.

Without direct Vision’s sight,
Decay’s the root — the soul’s blight.
For Spirit’s Path you must prepare —
Begin your march — ascend the stair!



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



The Art of All Arts

The zombied world — the time is near
To settle scores, the debts appear.
Again the box conceals the shame —
Lying’s here art’s finest game.

Cows **** and CEOs just choke,
Factories smoke — **** every joke!
From lies the head begins to swell,
This habit breaks the mind’s own shell.

A harmful habit: zombied crowd
By negative selection bowed,
Will drag us down into the pit—
No sin to burn the filth of it.

To analyze this filthy game—
A dreadful sin, no pardon’s name
From politicians, thieves in suits,
Where cruelty and coldness roots.

But highest art that reigns supreme—
Is blind obedience, the dream
That’s nurtured through the endless years:
No sense, no thought, just rot and fears.

It bursts into the “new, bright world,”
Submissive to the liars’ swirl.
Mammon is god, and honor’s haze
Fades like a mirage in the blaze.

Yet here’s the twist—the reckoning’s due,
The time to pay what’s owed to you.
The rotten world of sold-out souls
Will burn beneath the solar coals—

The blazing Sun, the truth’s own light,
Will scorch the lies and end the night.




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



Crop Circles

A tempting mystery —
The “science” all but dust,
Servile and filthy,
Built on lies and rust.

They’ll vanish once we find
The meanings hid inside.
Troubles everywhere,
Thousands deep and wide.

This “science” breeds the poison —
Toxic food, decay.
Obedient scoundrels
Feed the lies each day.

The “proofs” they push on screens,
Media’s blind slaves.
The “science” leads to sickness —
And ******* in its waves.

In circles lies the symbol —
Fuel for instinct’s flame.
“Science’s” empty rituals
Slaughter Spirit’s name.

That instinct crushed and drained,
The mind left dry and cold.
Endorsed by CowID’s chain —
Save our souls from the fold!

Crop circles in the fields
Are bombs against their lies.
The spin-dust keeps silent —
Drums pounding in our minds.

Their path is to silence
What breaks their false design,
Then flood the world with lies —
A sea of endless crime.




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



Conspiracy of the Global Madhouse

A savage locked inside the ward —
Where’s the chief? No one’s on guard.
Hidden from our screams and cries,
Sanitars heal with cold disguise:

All the meds are “plant-based lies,”
While conditions rot and rise —
Saving money’s all they prize.
Madness hoards no worthy prize.

They torture with electric shocks,
The savage trapped — the system mocks.
Complaints in Ward Six pile high,
Ruled by a Führer’s twisted eye.

He cries and howls, a broken mind,
Yet hope’s a poison they still grind.
Sanitars promise they’ll soon hang
The wild ones — orders bang.

Rations shrink, the cockroaches feed,
While rebels get the snotty bead.
Filthy water’s all they get —
Better “care” you won’t forget.

A savage’s hell, the stink and scream,
And the chief — a dull, cold scheme.




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



Conspiracy of the Global Madhouse

Savage locked inside the ward —
Where’s the chief? No soul, no guard.
Hidden deep from screams and cries,
Sanitars deal brutal lies:

“All the meds? Just plant-based trash.”
Conditions rotten, cash is cash.
Saving pennies, minds decay —
Madness steals the light away.

They torture souls with shock and pain,
Savage trapped in endless chain.
Complaints fall dead in Ward Six’s pit,
Ruled by madmen’s iron writ.

Führer howls—a broken freak,
Hope’s a lie the fiends still speak.
Orders come — the wild get hung,
Starved to death, their songs unsung.

Rats feast while rebels drown in slime,
Snot and filth become their crime.
A savage’s hell—stench, pain, and scorn,
The chief? A butcher—dull and worn.




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



Emptiness

Emptiness is no simple void:
There passion swarms, and thought is ployed.
From mist and shadow, Beauty wakes —
Awake from fog before it breaks!

Clear your mind — so pure, so bright,
It was so clean at very light.
Emptiness holds many thoughts,
But that’s no sign of speech well-wrought.

Clear mind means speech sharp and true,
Yet no one’s there to hear from you.
Words will slash the evil haze,
Cut the fog of twisted ways.

But slaves don’t want the truth to sound —
They crowd the world with rotting ground,
A global madhouse, vile and grim,
Where soulless fiends sing out their hymn.

Generations of slaves have spoiled
The clarity — the core, the soil
Of life itself. Ignore the fools,
Their muddy lies and broken rules.

Return within—to emptiness,
The primal light’s pure holiness.
You won’t save all that’s murky, lost,
But answers come at any cost.

That answer’s simple — you are Spirit,
Trapped in hell’s dull, blind merit.
That’s why the world’s foul nonsense stings,
It screams and raves with broken wings.

Emptiness will heal that craze,
The madness inside you’s blaze.
It’s left a mark upon your soul,
Corrupting parts that made you whole.

Hell will shatter by that void —
Alchemy’s fierce, don’t be coy.
If you have woken, it’s no chance,
Only through this path advance.

Your Spirit’s strength will rise in flame,
Burning fog and lies to shame.
Fear will flee — or lost you’ll be,
If you refuse this key to free.

This hell will **** the Spirit’s fire,
If you keep rotting in the mire,
Among the fascists’ vile crew,
Destroying soul, denying you.

Go deep inside — answers wait,
Return and shatter hell’s dark gate.
We’ll blow the rotten madhouse wide,
Drown it all in blood and tide.

This blood is black — and let it be —
Be strong and toss your sympathy,
Throw out sorrow, grief, regret.
Emptiness? Seize this moment yet!

The core of Alchemy’s this flash —
Don’t miss it, or you’ll crash.
Arguments mean nothing there —
Intuition reigns with flair.

Emptiness is not just void,
But Spirit’s light, unalloyed.
All filth and fear dissolve in flight,
The Path shines clear, hell’s lies in sight.

The lies, the frauds, the monstrous dread,
All poison spilling, all is bled.




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



Economic Cattle

Office drones, those ****-ups blind,
Swallow nonsense, lost in grind.
Plankton hordes, souls on the line —
Sold for shelter, scraps, the bind.

Slavery here’s a savage creed,
Dumb as corks, a endless breed.
This slavery’s burned deep inside,
Dare to run — escape or die.

There, "life" is just a hollow name,
A funeral’s dull, dying flame.
Offices, a deathly feast,
Only rabble, very least.

Some still cling to madhouse lies —
Where all doors close on the wise,
Who refuse to be mere cattle,
Broken, beaten, choked by battle.

Many won’t take more abuse —
Guard their souls, refuse the noose.
Fascist world keeps watch so tight,
If you won’t bow, you’re out of sight.

Even faking’s seen and banned —
Exposed and thrown from their command.
Another purge, the plankton’s cleared,
While monsters rule, their lies revered.

Here’s the law — one slavery,
Masked by lies, brutality.
Stupidity, fear, and hate,
Madness grows at rapid rate.

Fools believe this “best of worlds,”
Souls lost, trapped like caught-up squirrels.
The catch is souls — all else is fake,
A world of **** and cruel mistake.

Run away, escape the trap,
Speed ahead — no time to nap.
**** and Judas drag us down,
Turning all to dust and drown.

Go inside — protected there,
By the Light beyond despair.
A cataclysm looms ahead —
Wake from this long, cursed dread.

This "dream" is fog, a dark disguise,
Centuries of vile lies.
Cheaper to be fool than wise,
The vice that blinds, the soul’s demise.




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



The Key

A sudden key to "secret truths" —
The fruit of all your toil and strife.
Inside it lives, no guide or sleuth
Will hand you insight in this life.

The work may be both smart and deep,
But all you gain is noisy speech.
A broken world, left by the Keep,
Disappointment’s thoughts will breach.

Yet intuition leads the way,
That sudden key beyond the rules,
It breaks tradition, lights the day,
And brings you swift to Spirit’s schools.

Seek out that key beyond the mind,
When despair claws your mortal frame,
And pushes you to fate’s harsh grind —
Then boldly leap into the flame.

You’ll break or find the rarest key.
Be brave, press on — no time to stall.
If truth in lies you blindly seek,
You’re nothing but a wretched thrall.

Reject all lies, grow doubting strong,
Distribute effort like the tide:
Let peaks return, their pulses long —
Accept the cycles as your guide.

When lows descend, don’t whine or fall,
Hold fast, endure, and wait your turn.
Or else your work will fail and stall,
The key’s brief flash you’ll never learn.

That key is sudden, sharp, and true —
A door that opens with one turn.
Fear not what lies beyond the view —
Awake from madness, stop to burn!

Delusion fills the waking mind,
It’s wired deep in ancient chains.
So cherish now your "strangeness" kind,
Or madness laughs and drives you insane.

A world insane in total blur —
The place you start, the place you bleed.
The harm is clear — but none concur,
The masses just obey, mislead.

They’re cattle, not mankind, the mass.
While few oppress with iron will.
If you obey, you’re just their glass —
A slave confined, doomed to be still.

That sudden key to secret lore —
Keep searching, fight until you fall.
Or like a lamb, be led to gore,
Forget what flesh cries out to call.

You are the Spirit, pure and bright,
Trapped in a body doomed to rot.
To grasp the truth, unlock the light —
Few have, but now it’s your own plot.

So onward, don’t beg, don’t stall,
That key awaits to free us all.




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



Foundations of the ****-Building

"So much is built upon the helplessness of the human child —
Your family, culture, faith, philosophy —
All rest on that fragile, broken pile."
— Osho


This world’s built on child’s weakness,
A prey to vile designs.
**** tear where the flesh is tender,
Mind’s a shooting range of lies.

So ******* pour their nonsense,
With force they drown the truth.
Turn all to jokes and cares —
Lie whips the soul uncouth.

Obedience is beaten
Like rods upon the weak.
Childhood’s not — it’s torment,
Mad slaves is what they seek.

The child’s trust and reliance,
Treasure ripe for the ****.
They use it to the fullest —
Filth rules where shadows come.

Docile, dumb, and slavish,
Most will bow and obey.
The world will rot and fester,
While **** dance in foul play.

Centuries of violence,
Deceit have carved this hell.
Fascism’s stinking label —
For fools who fell and fell.

There’s always some “other,”
They say, “Oh, what a charm!”
But final goal is brutal —
To turn minds into farm.

A cattle herd, all molded,
Easier with a child.
Let’s shame him, break him fully,
Send him to void — defiled.

It’s clear and well accelerated —
Filth spreads without a fight.
Madness shamed, Spirit crushed —
Hope fades into the night.

Spirit strong is dying —
Madness wins the feast.
The world a sick asylum,
Where fools are never ceased.

The stench grows ever stronger —
Fascist **** run wild.
The dumb, corrupt, betrayers —
Born from the child defiled.

Their “upbringing” is genocide,
A name too apt to hide.
This world deserves to burn —
While Spirit’s buried inside.

But soon the ground will tremble,
Before the new beasts rise,
Where chains are forged in lies,
And truth will meet demise.

Yet sun shines ever brighter —
It’s the End’s first gleam.
The fire grows relentless —
On the brink of darkest dream.

So let it be, no god here,
Satan rules the game:
A world so bleak and broken —
Built on filth and shame.




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



The ****-Building Base

Built on helpless kids —
Your family, faith, your lies.
**** tear soft flesh wide —
Brains turned shooting skies.

******* pour their crap —
Lie whips whip the weak.
Childhood’s not a life —
It’s torture, slave’s bleak peak.

Trust is treasure plundered,
Used up, spit, and crushed.
Docile slaves, dumb masses —
In filth they’re hushed.

Fascist stench spreads thick,
Madness rules the game.
Spirit’s dead, world’s rot —
No god, just shame.

Chains forged in deceit —
New beasts rise from dirt.
Sun blazes the End —
Hell’s fire will assert.




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



In Memory of Hans Selye

Hans Selye — great and stern,
Raised intuition high,
Above cold logic’s rigid burn,
Where thought’s caprices lie.

No mere sparks of insight’s flow,
But torrents deep and vast.
Yet from the halls where truths should grow,
This lesson’s cast out, past.

The mercenary **** conspire,
To crush that sacred light.
Intuition, pure, inspires
To expose the CowID blight.

That’s why they fear its power —
Dry reason chains impose,
Drowned in words that coldly glower,
Where lies like poison flows.

Facts twisted, others hidden,
Worse than plagues or wars,
A crippled mind, broken, ridden,
Believes false science’s cause.

When intuition’s gates are barred,
By dogma’s iron fist,
Such souls remain forever scarred,
In ignorance persist.

This breed is now the common mold —
False science’s design.
Their masters’ greed, their hearts are cold,
Chasing profit’s line.

The rulers here are less than men,
In this corrupt domain.
False science smooths the cruel den,
Where fools are left in pain.

A stew of lies and false belief,
Media’s twisted breath,
Religious frauds bring only grief,
And feed the world with death.

Fragmented minds construct the “new” —
A world of crafted lies,
Where idols haunt, and none are true,
Beneath the fearful skies.

Fear’s weaponized, step by step,
To **** the critical mind,
Leaving only nonsense kept,
A legacy unkind.

Creative thought will die by choice,
Selection dark and grim.
False science’s deceitful voice
Now sings its deathly hymn.

Had Selye lived to see this day,
He’d shudder at the sight —
A world in rot and cold decay,
A global death of light.




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



Selye’s Warning

Selye saw it clear and true:
Logic kills what’s bold and new.
Intuition’s flame they dread —
Dead minds march, their spirit bled.

False science spreads its filthy lies,
Crushing thought till reason dies.
Fear the chains they lock your mind,
Slave to fools, forever blind.

This world rots, no truth to find,
A hell they build for humankind.
Selye warned — the end is near:
Wake or drown in lies and fear!




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



Explosive Creation

Pour yourself out — break all your fears,
Then ride the wave of creative fire.
Or else you stand, condemned, in tears,
Where HANGING SWORD waits to expire.

Crush all the lies these freaks imposed,
Their twisted truths you must outfly.
The spark’s INSIDE — though life opposed,
Take every hardship as your guide.

Learn how to sort the false from fact,
Trace motives and their cruel schemes.
No use to follow sheep in packs,
Better to blaze alone with dreams.

Be fierce, be sharp, let passion lead —
The path where raw creation flows.
Mistakes will come, but layers of greed
Will peel away as insight grows.

Judge yourself, be your own master —
Don’t weigh your soul with mob’s cold chains.
Creator is a warrior faster,
While wretched slaves are all that remains.

No help for them — but aid the pure,
A few remain amid the blight.
Though darkness reigns, strong and obscure,
Still fight, still burn against the night.

Learn, resist, don’t ever yield,
Die unbowed before the dark.
In every note and every field,
Explode — but keep your center’s spark.

Intuition shows the way,
To find that core within your chest.
The mind’s a pit where fears hold sway —
No epicenter of the blast exists!

Explosive creation’s hellish road,
Know well: in Hell you’re not alone.
A fiend sits deep where darkness flowed,
And slams your ears with lies and groan.

Traitors, filth-throwers, vile throngs,
A legion sold and bent on pain.
Around you swarm the wretched wrongs —
Their evil strikes the pure’s domain.

Heal every wound — escape will aid,
That super-yoga of the mind.
Fools sit in poses, dull and staid,
Far from Dharma, truth declined.

It’s all alchemy — be strong in Spirit,
And Hell itself you’ll learn to lead.
Darkness’ servants won’t inherit —
Create, seek, unless you’re bred to bleed!




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



Farewell, Asylum!

Sheep-virus plague and endless war—
Total nonsense fed by news,
The World’s Asylum shakes once more:
Here traitors grin in every pew.

Each trembling soul, each skin that shakes—
There’s millions locked inside these walls.
What’s left but media’s fake fakes,
Where Twilight dims all reason’s calls?

If “no censorship” you claim,
No viral spark will light your stream.
Algorithms play their game—
Censorship’s a silent scream.

A million views on YouTube’s stage,
While honest poems get but none.
Still write fierce words, uncaged, enraged—
Better “in the drawer” than undone!

The traitors pen their empty rhymes—
“Patriotism” sells so well.
While honest voices lose their times
In info wars that burn like hell.

It’s all controlled by filthy cash—
The pockets full of those who scheme.
In Hell, true spirit turns to ash—
Traitors care not for that dream.

Who sells out Spirit, Honor, Truth,
Will fall again to darkest pits—
This madhouse’ chains will burn in sooth,
Fools trapped in lies will pay their debts.

They say they live “in better worlds,”
While reason melts like glaciers’ flow.
Obedient madness swirls—
The weak submit, refuse to grow.

Fascist beasts wield weapons sharp—
Through them they crush us, vile and sly.
Soon lies will burn in evil’s warp,
And all false gods will fade and die.

The Sun has started its great work,
The Earth replies with molten streams.
Death to fools, the traitors’ quirk—
Earth cheers the end of twisted schemes.

Sheep-virus plague and endless war—
The total madness media spins—
This is the verdict, nothing more:
Farewell, Asylum! If you’re not ****, rejoice within.




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



Express Train "Prison-to-Concentration Camp"

Bricks of dungeons piled in rows—
Volumes of the weak and small.
Few remain in prison’s throes,
The goal’s the broken mind for all.

False science binds with cement tight,
“Religion” bars the iron door—
To soften pain, believe the lie,
And suffer less than those before.

Believe the brazen propaganda—
Guards disguised in wicked guise.
Easier to live in bands—
Will the gang ignite the rise?

No, the weak get picked and sold—
That’s the business in the pit.
Is rebellion starting cold?
No, protest crushed to counterfeit.

In prison, few can truly see
The dungeon for what it became.
For most, it’s just a city spree—
Mammon is the highest claim.

If you pray to Mammon’s shrine,
Oblivion will pull you deep.
In forgetfulness you drown—
Pour lies to feed the endless sleep.

Forgetfulness will drown you whole,
All around are ghosts and dead.
Where it’s lighter, fools patrol—
The “kumi” clowns misled.

They sit just trapped behind their bars—
Cages built inside the mind.
Beasts raging, fools crowned czars—
“Masters” of the blind and blind.

Bad news breaks: the prison’s fate—
Turns itself to hellish camp.
In propaganda’s hateful state,
It howls a vicious, deadly ramp.

Louder howl—then fools obey,
Do anything and everything.
Kindness dies in wolf-pack’s fray,
Brains and honor fade to nothing.

Stupider liars rule the scene,
Bolder cheats with cruel disguise.
Better news: it all will burn—
Not by chance, but cataclysm’s rise.

The filth of this **** prison’s breath
Will issue out the final stink.
The few will rise beyond the death,
The rest to Hell’s abyss will sink.




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



The Melancholy of Waning in This "World"

The melancholy of waning—
If even just a spark of mind,
It grows each year, unstopping, draining,
And breaks you down, so unkind.

The soul’s ****** is pure madness,
In which we all decay and rot.
The more sarcasm, the badness—
The stronger is the body caught.

Add sensitivity — then worse
It gets in this small, cruel sphere—
No skin to shield the raging curse
Of Moloch’s madness ever near.

Wish your enemy to remain—
No worse torment can be found,
Though Hell itself expands the pain,
In total madness all around.

But foes are beasts with armored hides,
Soulless for ages long ago.
These creatures craft their lies and tides,
You’ll drift like logs in stagnant flow.

And logs surround you, woods grow dense—
More life, more Light than here you’ll see.
In this mad world, the more you’re tense,
The more logs crush your sanity.

The strongest Judas stands among
The logs, in waiting for us all—
Betrayal’s now a work well done,
Corruption piles like endless fall.

Among the logs—the fools and snakes—
Despair will surely be your end.
Despair breeds sickness, drunks, heartbreaks—
Learn early, less to fate you’ll send.

Fewer victims, more your mind
And Creative Spirit grow and rise,
Till you’re not just a lamb confined,
Falling where all lost souls die.

There are many ways to fall—
****** is the easiest trick.
In this world where Satan’s all,
From childhood we just rot and stick.

Fight and Create—that’s the key,
Only this will save your soul.
Later, before God, we’ll see—
When Sun will burn the vermin whole.

Steam, roast, and fiery trial—
That’s what lies in wait ahead.
The Spirit is the measure, dial—
Walk in Spirit, without dread.

Until they burn away the shame
And world’s disgrace in crowded pens,
Where fear and lies, with tons of blame,
Breed sickness with no loose ends.

The melancholy of waning—
Is dread if sickness you dismiss.
Like paper targets in a range,
You stand amid the blasts of abyss.




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



The Agony of Waning in This Hellish "World"

The agony of wasting —
If you’ve got one grain of sense,
It grows each year, devasting,
Crushing you with cold offense.

Soul ******’s pure insanity,
We rot together, all the same.
More sarcasm fuels the vanity —
Tighter clamps on flesh and flame.

Add feeling — that’s a curse’s knife,
No skin to block the Moloch’s rage.
Wish your enemy this life,
Forever trapped in maddening cage.

No torture worse can Hell invent,
Though Hell expands its gruesome show,
In total madness, time is spent
Watching every spirit blow.

But foes are thick-skinned, soulless beasts,
Long dead inside, but still they scheme.
They flood you with their filthy feasts —
You’re just a log adrift, no dream.

Logs crowd the forest, thick and dead —
More life and Light beyond this pit.
In this sick world, the thinner thread,
The more insane logs crush and split.

The sharpest Judas roams among
These logs and waits with filthy grin.
Betrayal’s job’s already done —
Corruption floods this world of sin.

Among these logs, the fools and snakes —
Despair will drag you to your grave.
Despair breeds sickness, drunken fakes —
Know this early, less to save.

Less victims feed the Devil’s game,
More Spirit grows if you resist.
Don’t be just lambs in slaughter’s flame,
Or fade like all in endless mist.

Many ways to die or fall —
******’s easiest, quick to hand.
In this world, where Satan’s thrall,
We rot from childhood, stalked and banned.

Fight, Create — that’s your one sword,
Only this saves soul from Hell.
Later, before God’s final Word,
Sun burns the lice and casts the spell.

Steam, fire, scorching trial —
That’s what waits ahead, no lie.
Spirit’s gauge and Spirit’s mile —
Walk in Spirit or you die.

Until they burn the shame and filth,
World’s disgrace in crowded pens.
Where lies and fear, like floods of guilt,
Breed sickness to the bitter ends.

The agony of wasting —
Is hell if you dismiss the pain.
Like paper targets in the firing range,
You stand beneath the Devil’s rain.



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



Take the Blow of This Wretched Fate

Take the blow of this wretched fate:
You’re not the judge who seals the score.
Satan stands as false god’s weight —
Vengeance for those who fight the roar.

Few here resist — the masses bow,
And through their chains revenge is fed.
If you endure too long, then now
Your soul and honor lie half-dead.

With mind intact you sink below —
They stir the sludge, the vile mix.
Evil wants that mess to grow,
To rot unseen, a putrid fix.

“Collective mind” in darkness bred,
The one who won’t submit is marked.
They crush him down, just like in judo’s stead,
A target doomed to be stark.

Parents, teachers, crowds unite,
To break the spirit, make it slave.
They’ll train you well to lose the fight,
And rot in Hell beyond the grave.

It’s hard to bear each cruel strike,
When you stand lone against the tide.
But spurning lies, you’ll find alike
The Spirit’s beauty deep inside.

Soulless fools try to “teach” you how
To bow, obey, and feed the rot,
To breed and rot beneath the plow —
A Hell where all is lost and caught.

Go inward — intuition’s spark
Will help you stand against the pain.
Not “tradition,” cold and dark,
Where gods are fat, but all is vain.

False sciences, poor and bleak,
Where Spirit’s crushed to hollow dust.
The lies bite worse than any streak
Of crowd’s dull venom and their lust.

The media’s the tyrant’s tool,
Spreading fear and lies with glee.
For centuries, these fiends so cruel
Have dragged this world to misery.

They rot the world, they spread the plague —
But cataclysms burn the blight.
The wild storms rage, the earth will shake,
To drown the fascist’s shameful blight.

Stand firm, withstand the ruthless blow —
You just might reach another plane.
Strike down the lies that poison so,
Within yourself the truths remain.




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



Fury

I don’t believe in God.
I fight the Devil’s spawn —
Each twisted, cruel façade.
Is it hard? I’m drawn?

No — Pure Fury wakes,
Unlocks the heart inside:
The cure for all the fakes,
The world’s own rising tide.

Alive — yet soaked in spite,
The poison’s in my veins.
Pure Fury keeps the fight —
I’m not yet lost in chains.

The herbivore’s foul hate
Wants to crush and bind.
Cast off the herd’s dull fate —
No herd will trap your mind.

The herd’s consumed by death,
Souls crushed beneath the weight.
Be yourself — take breath:
Spirit’s not the bait.

A flock of sheep,
A herd of fools,
A world corralled,
By goats as cruel.

Those goats lead on,
Whips worse than lies —
Their thrones held strong,
By fraud and cries.

Believe in Fury,
Honor your will.
Fury boundless —
Lights the path still.

The road from pens
Is hard and steep —
Wounds and shame
Will pile deep.

Move forward,
Even if no chance is shown.
Stand up — you’ve made
Yourself their stone.

Beasts devour souls —
******* life dry.
Don’t heed their lies —
They only spread fear’s cry.

Is it tough? Only Fury
Will bring your strength back near.
How much remains?
Just one sharp turn is clear!

The furious sun
Will burn this hell,
Scorch to the bone —
The slave-stock’s knell.



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



Half-Thought

Half-thought is fatal—
Bits of thought, clouds of lies,
Not just false, but infernal—
Serve the beast that never dies.

You serve your homeland, hollow,
Bring scraps to kin at home,
In life’s grim march, you follow,
Your soul to beasts you loan.

Entangled in small trifles,
Dulled since childhood’s dawn—
Now mostly just the riffraff,
Slave-****, broken and drawn.

A slave can’t think—
No thoughts break through the lies.
So “norms” for fools are set—
In madness everyone lies.

The “norm” is a slave,
Chewing stale, stale gum,
Fed by beastly books,
Propaganda drums the drum.

You swallow all the noise,
Become a thinker’s clone,
Then build your life among
Blind slaves in dull monotone.

Among the dull, poor masses
You dull day by day,
Joy of thought denied—
Rot’s all that’s on display.

Rot is all “culture,”
Surrounding every slave,
At the heart of lies, a carcass—
Guard yourself from the whip and grave.

Obey, believe, avoid the lash—
You won’t chew granite here,
But press down endless filth,
Designed to cloud your clear.

These beasts compress the crap,
To blind your seeing eyes,
Few seek freedom’s way—
Lost in falsehood’s lies.

All slaves hate them—
And rightly so it seems,
For flaws they spy in neighbors,
Taboo to break those dreams.

With dumb ***** only
Flatter and obey,
The circus of politics—
Soon all waste will fade away.

But slaves don’t know the truth—
Lies march them to the camps,
Space is tight in this crowd—
Idiots lead the stamp.

Even to Hell’s gates,
First you must run fast,
Consciousness grows dim—
Extinction comes at last...




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



Road to Hell

Worn-out sneakers,
Darkness overhead.
Only lies are new here—
Stuck in filth and dread.

The road stretches onward,
You run but don’t rest.
Just a little longer—
Hell’s your final quest.

From Hell back to Hell—
The endless cycle’s spun.
Only fools find “joy” here—
Beasts devour and run.

Hell’s fatigue weighs heavy,
Chains of fire and pain.
All that’s left inside you—
A soul that still remains.

Don’t trade your soul
For scraps of food or gain.
Don’t listen to others,
Nor curse your fate in vain.

No need to blame fate
In this fascist hell.
A world ruled by monsters—
Trapped inside their spell.

To stand or to run—
It’s all the same decay.
Only fascists are right—
And the world’s end day.

Soon the Sun will blaze—
Burn away the dark.
Scorch to the very bone—
Smoke rising like a spark.

When smoke and ash have faded,
A new world will arise,
Where the beast’s foul shadow
Will vanish from the skies.

That loathsome, soulless creature,
Hell’s own filthy spawn,
Rules these ****** realms—
Lies laid out like brawn.

Cheese in every trap set,
We’re caught in their cruel schemes.
Nasty tricks endure—
Madness in extremes.

Lies and cheese will vanish,
Be ready to peer down
Into the abyss—
Hell’s half-beasts wear the crown.

Take one last glance,
Remember well this sight.
For Victory forever—
Recall this Nothing’s blight.

We dwell in Nothingness—
No path more grim to take.
Fools call it “living”—
Darkness for all mankind’s sake.

Replace your worn sneakers—
Darkness soon will fade,
Along with all the traps
Of hell’s foul charade.



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



Expanding Consciousness

Expand your mind — forget what you knew:
The soul’s torment is a flood of lies, untrue.

The sense of space has long been confined,
Where rudeness thrives — dull filth aligned.

The base there — subjects, they say, apart,
Seeing only objects — near or bizarre parts.

And time rules there with shame and disgrace:
Soulless beings enslaved, Spirit near erased.

But you — a spiritual essence, not mere thing,
Not subject, not object, but the soul’s true spring.

Humans trapped in “the daily grind,”
The root of all ills — a false bind.

These ills are made by soulless vermin, foul and vile,
You’re but their servant, stuck in denial.

Consciousness must not grow or rise,
Or else they’ll crush it with cruel lies.

Legions of traitors, slaves of the slime,
Flooding the mind with decay and grime.

They crush intuition — the path to the skies,
Impose “traditions” — wheels of disguise.

And wheel around your Spirit, Reason, Honor too,
Justifying chaos — the shame all accrue.

All true knowledge lies forgotten,
Where Spirit reigns supreme, unbroken.

Instead, your soul’s offered up,
A sacrifice to become corrupt.

Time itself is narrowed down —
Events chained, a mental crown.

But Eternity belongs to you,
Not half-god, not slave, but something true.

Cast off false humanness —
Leave this evil’s dark fortress.

Root yourself deep in Spirit’s flame —
Your home, your endless sacred name.

Discard false knowledge, rumors grim —
Chaos trembles on its brim.

Soon this madness will be cast away,
For genocide none can stay.

They’ll **** those chained by empty rules,
Whose Spirit and Reason lie as fools.

Here lies falsehood on all forces’ might —
True power’s inside, beyond their sight.

Fools everywhere whisper “die,”
But seek the Source inside your mind’s sky.

Find the strength within your soul,
Smash all darkness, make it whole.

Let only what kills the filth survive,
And with such power, rise alive.

You are no weak slave, but king,
Remember strength is everything.

This is a Super-Mystery,
Step boldly in, embrace the key.

There matter fades, the soulless fall,
Shield yourself from narrow thrall.

Forget decay, all fears, complaints,
You’ll be reborn, free of restraints.

Strong, pure, and bright in Spirit’s light,
Hell’s servants perish in the night.

You’ll write anew on a spotless page,
A tale of goodness, love, and sage.

Spread the word, let all be told —
The end of evil soon unfolds.

It’s close enough — fight, multiply your force,
Reject all baseness or lose your course.



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



Expansion of Consciousness

Unfurl your mind — forget all you’ve known:
The soul’s torment is lies’ blackened throne.

Space itself, confined, long ago,
Where arrogance and filth do grow.

Subjects fenced apart — illusions bred,
Seeing only shadows, strange or near instead.

And time reigns ruthless, a tyrant blind,
Shame and disgrace enslave the mind.

But you — a Spirit, essence pure,
Not subject, not object — eternal and sure.

Mankind enchained by the daily blight,
Falsehood’s root — their cursed blight.

Monsters spawn these ills profane,
You’re their servant, bound in chains.

Consciousness must not ascend,
Or their dark reign meets its end.

Legions of traitors, merchants of rot,
Drowning reason in shadow and blot.

They crush intuition — the path to skies,
Spinning “traditions” — webs of lies.

They grind Spirit, Reason, Honor to dust,
Justifying madness, corruption’s lust.

All true knowledge sinks to night,
While Spirit’s throne is lost to blight.

Your soul sacrificed on the altar of scorn,
To live as beast, in darkness born.

Time’s narrowing grip — events confined,
A mental prison forged and signed.

Yet Eternity bends to your will —
Not slave, nor half-god, but sovereign still.

Cast off false humanity’s chains,
Abandon this fortress where evil reigns.

Root deep in Spirit’s timeless fire —
Your home, your endless sacred pyre.

Reject the lies, the rumors vile —
The chaos trembles, recoils in denial.

Soon this madness will be undone,
For genocide claimed by none but the numb.

They **** those bound by empty laws,
Whose Spirit sleeps while Reason gnaws.

Falsehood taints all power and might —
True strength lies hidden in Spirit’s light.

Fools cry “die” as darkness grows,
But seek the Source where true power flows.

Find your strength inside the soul,
Shatter the night, reclaim the whole.

Only death to filth shall please,
And with that power, rise with ease.

You are no slave, but king reborn,
Remember strength was never torn.

This is the Great Mystery,
Enter bold — embrace the key.

Where matter fades and darkness dies,
Shield yourself from narrow lies.

Forget decay, the screams, the fears,
Reborn in Spirit — beyond the years.

Strong, radiant, pure and bright,
Hell’s minions vanish in the light.

On a clean slate you will inscribe,
A tale of truth and love revived.

Spread the news — the end is near,
The fall of evil, crystal clear.

Fight on, gather your sacred might,
Reject the vile, embrace the light.

Or be lost forevermore —
A shadow cast on Spirit’s shore.



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



Expand your mind — forget the lies,
Soul trapped in darkness, spirit dies.

Falsehood reigns, the filth consumes,
But light will burn these shadowed tombs.

You’re not a slave, but king inside,
Break chains, let Spirit be your guide.

Hell’s servants fall — their power fades,
Rise up and claim the light that saves.

Fight the vile — or be lost to night,
In Spirit’s strength, reclaim your might.




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



True Purity

"...to keep your mind in perfect clarity,
Where red is just red, and willow green—
No tangled thoughts to cloud that verity,
No shadows in the light unseen."
— Daisetsu Suzuki, Zen Buddhism, 1934


Keep your mind forever clear,
Suppress the empty babble,
The world’s a fog, a cheap veneer—
A mess, a shallow rabble.

Observe detached, without a cling,
Your “primal face” to seek,
A sudden flash, a seeing spring—
The light that makes you speak.

But never hold, or it will seem—
Illusions dress as light,
And every fool’s deceived by dream,
Where darkness masks the bright.

Falsehoods settle in the mind,
Corrupting all around,
The soul’s compass, pure and kind,
By lies is tightly bound.

This world’s mad house is built on lies—
Awake from endless haze!
That darkness like a coma lies—
Break free from mindless maze.

Trust what intuition shows,
Forget old worn-out creeds,
For “spiritual tradition”
Is just dogma feeding weeds.

Dogmatists are legion here,
The truthful scarce and thin.
If you heed evil’s sneer,
Your soul will lose within.

Idiots rule this wicked land,
In “faiths” their numbers swell.
Satan’s mark is clearly planned—
Reject that empty hell!

False sciences deceive and chain—
Their harm is vast and deep.
“Walking through torment” is the war,
Not peace for us to keep.

Spiritual battles rage on all sides,
Only the strong resist.
Not humans, but vile beasts abide,
Their rule is clenched in fist.

No jokes remain when monsters win,
When filth is raised so high.
Keep your mind pure—resist the sin,
Don’t bend beneath their lie.

Before the fascist world’s cruel gaze,
Stand firm, reject the grime,
Cast off the filth, the twisted maze—
Keep your pure soul sublime.




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



True Purity

Keep your mind razor-clear,
No lies, no twisted frame.
Red is red, green is green —
No darkness in the flame.

Dogma’s chains will crush your soul,
Traditions blind and cold.
Reject the fools, resist control,
Stand strong — refuse to fold.

The world’s a fascist cage,
Where monsters rule the night.
Hold pure your mind — break free the rage,
And fight for truth and light.




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



True Purity

Keep your mind clean — cut the ****,
No lies, no ******* cloak.
Red’s red, green’s green — admit,
Don’t choke on their smoke.

Dogma’s chains? Tear ‘em down,
Traditions are their trap.
Fools crawl, slaves wear the crown —
But you don’t fall in that crap.

World’s a fascist freakshow,
Monsters feed on fear.
Stand your ground, say no —
Burn their lies clear.



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



True Purity — No Lies

Cut the crap — keep mind clean,
Red’s red, green’s green, no schemes.
Fascists lie, but you fight —
Burn their hell, claim your light.




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



Purity’s Edge

Mind razor-sharp, no filth allowed,
Red flower bleeds, green will not bow.
Fascist **** crawl, their lies will rot —
Crush their hell, burn every blot.




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



True Purity

Keep your mind sharp, spit on their lies,
Red’s still red while falsehood dies.
Fascist vermin breed their filth —
Crush their spawn in hell’s own kilt.



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

True Purity, No *******

Keep your mind clean, **** their lies,
Red stays red while ******* dies.
Fascist **** spread **** and gore —
Crush these vermin to the core.



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



True Purity, No *******

Keep your mind pure — crush empty talk,
This foggy world, this stinking walk.
See red as red, green will stay green,
No twisted lies to cloud the scene.

Cling not to visions that just seem,
False lights that mock the lucid dream.
They slap bright names on rotten **** —
Nirvana? Hell no, just counterfeit.

Evil fakes breed in the mind,
Their poison spreads and blinds mankind.
Soul’s compass points to honest light,
But lies drag you to endless night.

Worldwide madhouse, built on lies,
Wake from the coma, cut the ties.
Trust your gut, not empty creed,
Spiritual dogma’s just poison seed.

Dogmatists swarm, truth’s all but lost,
Soul sold cheap at evil’s cost.
Idiots flock to corrupted cults,
Where Satan’s worship never halts.

Reject their *******, reject the fake,
Science twisted, just lies they make.
No “walking through the fire” — it’s war,
Spiritual battle’s raw and *******.

Strong resist, refuse to bend,
Against the filth that won’t relent.
Not humans here, but fiends in bulk,
Their reign of **** — the final sulk.

Keep your mind pure, resist the flood,
Don’t bow to fascists’ stinking crud.
Reject the ****, the fear, the night —
Fight on, stay strong, defend the light.



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



Keep your mind sharp — crush all the lies,
Red is red, green don’t disguise.
False lights are poison, don’t you trust,
Their “spiritual” ******* turns to dust.

Fight the fiends who feast on souls,
Resist the ****, refuse their control.
World’s a madhouse, truth is slain,
Stand your ground or drown in pain.



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



Mind pure, eyes clear — no room for fake,
Their lies are traps, their cults, a snake.
Evil’s army rules the weak,
Only the strong dare speak.

Bow to none — fascist filth and scorn,
Fight the dark till comes the dawn.



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



Mind sharp, lies crushed —
Red is red, truth rushed.
Fakes preach, souls bleed —
Fight or fall, no heed.



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



Pure mind, no lies,
Fascists choke on their own cries.
Stand firm, break the chain —
Darkness burns, truth reigns.



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



Clear your mind — crush the lies,
Fascist **** wear their disguise.
No mercy for their twisted creed,
Break the chains, let spirit lead.



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



Clean your head — no fake, no scam,
They’re the poison, you the dam.
Stand tall, reject their filth,
Fight or perish in the guilt.



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



Mind pure, no cult, no slave,
Fools bow down to the grave.
**** the lies that choke and bind —
Only truth can free the mind.



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



Mind sharp, clear — slash through the sludge,
Fascists crawl in their own sludge.
No saints here — just demons' spawn,
Rip the veil, burn their dawn.



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



Brains fried by their twisted lies,
Watch the filth wear human guise.
Crush the herd of soulless drones,
Strike the plague that eats our bones.



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



Purge the cesspool of deceit,
Fascist worms beneath your feet.
No forgiveness for their breed —
Only fire feeds the seed.



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



Keep your mind pure, razor-sharp, no mercy shown,
Fascist **** breed shadows, rotten to the bone.
No saints, no heroes — just demons in their lair,
Tear down their vile lies, burn their poison air.

Brains cooked by filth, by twisted venom fed,
The human mask hides worms who feast on dread.
Crush this plague of soulless, deaf and dumb,
Strike hard, strike fast — let no evil come.

Purge the stinking cesspool, burn the cursed breed,
Fascist vermin crawl where death is their creed.
No mercy, no truce — only ash and flame,
Feed their twisted roots with fury untamed.



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



Keep Your Mind Pure

Keep your mind pure — no room for lies or ****,
Fascist filth breeds darkness — we won’t succumb.
No saints here — just demons, vile and foul,
Their rotten lies stink like a sewer’s growl.

Brains rotted deep, infected by their lies,
Behind their masks crawl beasts in human guise.
Crush the plague of mindless, deaf and blind,
Strike swift and hard — leave no filth behind.

Purge the cesspools where their poison breeds,
Fascist vermin thrive on hate and greed.
No mercy shown — just fire and ash,
Burn their twisted roots till nothing lasts.

Keep your mind pure — resist their hellish reign,
Reject their filth, their torment, their pain.
The world’s a battlefield, raw and rough,
But your soul’s sharp blade will be enough.



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



Keep Your Mind Pure

Keep your mind pure — no room for filth or slime,
Fascist **** breed darkness — poison for our time.
No saints here — just demons, vermin in disguise,
Their lies like gangrene festering ‘neath dead skies.

Brains rotted out, infected, hollowed shells,
Human masks worn by monsters raised in hells.
Crush the plague of blind fools, deaf to truth’s call,
Strike like thunder, break the chains that bind us all.

Purge the swamp of lies where blackened vipers crawl,
Fascist rats gnaw bones beneath their shadow’s thrall.
No mercy shown — let fire scorch their cursed lairs,
Burn their twisted roots, choke their poisoned airs.

Keep your mind pure — resist their venomed grip,
Reject their ****, their sludge, their fatal script.
The world’s a warzone soaked with filth and blood,
But your soul’s sharp blade will cut through all the mud.

Stand fierce and tall — no bow to tyrants’ lies,
Let hatred fuel the flame that never dies.
This fight is ours, to cleanse the blighted earth,
Strike hard, strike fast — reclaim your rightful worth.




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



Keep Your Mind Pure — No *******!

Keep your ******* mind pure — no ****, no slime,
Fascist ******* **** breed darkness every time.
No saints, just ******* demons — vermin, vile and cold,
Their ******* lies like cancer, eating all the soul.

Brains fried, rotted out — hollow ******* shells,
Humans? **** no — just monsters straight from hell.
Crush the plague of ******* fools deaf to truth’s roar,
Hit like thunder, smash their chains to the floor.

Purge the swamp of lies where black-*** vipers creep,
Fascist rats gnaw bones, in shadows they freak.
No mercy, no pity — burn their cursed lairs,
Incinerate their rotten ******* snares.

Keep your mind pure — resist their poison grip,
Reject their ****, their sludge, their ******* script.
This world’s a ******* warzone soaked in blood and ****,
But your soul’s a razor — cut through every bit.

Stand tall, stand fierce — don’t bow to tyrant lies,
Let hatred fuel the fire that never dies.
This fight is ours — cleanse this cursed earth,
Strike hard, strike fast — reclaim your ******* worth.




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



Keep Your Mind Pure — No ******* *******!

Keep your ******* mind pure — no lies, no slime,
In this fascist cesspit, they poison all time.
No saints here — just demons, filthy ******* vermin,
Feeding on your soul like vultures, cold and stern.

Brains rotted out, hollow shells, ******* hordes,
Humans? **** no — just monsters with broken cords.
Crush the plague of idiots, deaf to truth’s thunder,
Smash their chains, burn their lies down to blunder.

In this world of lies, black vipers crawl and hiss,
Fascist rats gnaw bones, bathed in evil’s kiss.
No mercy, no pity — torch their rotten lairs,
Burn to ash their ****, their traps and cursed snares.

Keep your mind pure — spit on their poison grip,
Reject their filth, sludge, their twisted script.
This world’s a warzone, soaked in blood and ****,
But your soul’s a razor — slice through every bit.

Stand fierce, stand tall — never bow to lies,
Let hatred be the fire that never dies.
This fight is ours — purge this cursed earth,
Strike hard, strike fast — reclaim your worth.



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



Keep Your Mind Pure — No ******* *******!

Keep your ******* mind pure — no lies, no slime,
In this fascist cesspit, they poison all time.
No saints here — just demons, filthy ******* vermin,
Feasting on your soul like rats on rotten vermin.

Brains ****** to pulp, hollow shells, ******* horde,
Humans? **** no — just monsters, traitor ****, warlords.
Crush the plague of idiots, deaf to truth’s brutal thunder,
Burn their fake gods, drown their lies in blood and blunder.

This world’s a hellhole, vipers crawl, fangs dripping venom,
Fascist rats gnaw bones, bathed in lies’ black phlegm.
No mercy, no pity — torch their pigsty lairs,
Cremate their *******, poison traps and devil’s snares.

Keep your mind pure — spit on their putrid grip,
Reject their filth, sludge, their twisted ******* script.
This world’s a warzone, soaked in blood, ****, and hate,
But your soul’s a razor — slash through every plague.

Stand fierce, stand tall — never kneel to lies,
Let hatred be the fire that burns and never dies.
This fight is ours — purge this cursed ground,
Strike hard, strike fast — leave no demon around.

See through their masks — beasts in human skin,
Corrupted, broken, slaves to endless sin.
Rise like a hammer, smash their filthy throne,
Claim your spirit back — make this hell your own.




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



Keep Your Mind Pure — No *******, No Mercy

Keep your mind pure — purge the ******* lies,
This world’s a sewer of filth and devil’s cries.
No saints, just cockroaches crawling in your brain,
******* parasites choking out your sane.

Brains smashed like skulls beneath iron boots,
Humanity lost — only twisted brutes.
Idiots drowning in fake gods’ blood and slime,
Crack their bones, torch their cults — end their crime.

This fascist shitpit reeks of death and rot,
Rats gnaw flesh, spit venom, tie your soul in knots.
No mercy for vermin, no pity for the weak,
Burn their lies to ashes, let the witches shriek.

Keep your mind pure — spit in their rotten face,
Reject their fake gospel, their poisoned disgrace.
This world’s a slaughterhouse dripping with pain,
But your spirit’s a blade slicing through the stain.

Stand fierce, stand tall — crush their blasphemous reign,
Let your rage be wildfire, let it drown the insane.
Fight hard, strike brutal — tear down every throne,
Grind these demons to dust, claim the fight your own.

See through their masks — devils dressed as men,
Broken, corrupted — slaves to hell’s cruel pen.
Rise like a bomb, explode their vile lair,
Rip your soul free from this endless nightmare.

Hold fast, no surrender, no ******* lies,
This war is real — no place for disguise.
Keep your mind pure — the last light in the dark,
Ignite the fury — become the final spark.



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



Mind Pure. Lies Burned.
Vermin Crushed. No Mercy Given.
Fight Hard. Strike Brutal.
Be The Final Spark.

— The End —