Wanderings

Emotional

Wed, 20 Jun 2007 05:11:25 GMT

Blue October's "Black Orchid"

Contiplations...

Fri, 18 May 2007 05:41:56 GMT

How much gold will it take to buy your freedom?

How much time will it take to win over the mind?

How many times must you loose the battle of wits with the universe to understand you know nothing?

For years and years we lived in utopia, but now look at us.

Starving for understanding.

Naked for truth.

We know almost nothing,

Yet we claim to know it ALL...

"White Stains"

Tue, 08 May 2007 04:31:48 GMT

Excerpt from “White Stains”

I was alone and naked in my bed.
The sword, snapped, on the floor, with hateful red
Blotches of blood, and clots of bloody hair
On its infernal steel. And unaware
Of thy last gift I slept. I have it now,
Thy gift from Hell’s door! Would to God somehow
I had thee once alive—to slay again!—
Ah! Who crawls in upon me like a vain
Damned ghost? Ugh! Blotchy spectre! Fiend, aroint!
Ah Christ, he creeps toward me; every joint
Quivers with passion; he will tear my eyes!
Away! more liquor! Come, green cocktrice!
Come, filthy draught of fire! Green dancing fiend
On serpent’s vomit and whore’s spittle weaned,
Fire my fierce brain! Resolve my rotted heart!
Fill me with drunkenness! How changed thou are,
Body, from that these women loved so well!
God! Will they still list after me in Hell?
But this is Hell!
Aha! If you were me,
Blind staring cripple yonder, you should see
Whether I lie! A cripple are you then?
Look upon me, the leper among men,
The corpse among the living! Intercede,
Good pitying pitiable Christ! My need
Is viler than my sins! Old sins, you tire!
Come, some new devilry to reinspire
My lips with frenzied laughter! Vain, ah, vain!
Th’ extreme of pleasure and the worst of pain,
I have tasted all. No more, all hope must end-
Hope! Damn that word! It mocks me like that friend
Who comes to see me daily—I shall die
Happier if I kill him; so shall I
Reap on his body the last tare of lust,
And shrivel back into my primal dust
Filled with all worms and horned beasts with wings,
The reptile that sweats acrid juice, and stings
With bloody teeth and tongue! Oh, all the room
Spits fire and dung, and vomits forth a spume
Of tawny sickly death! All blotched and dark,
The putrid air is vital with a spark
Of fiery eyes of yonder filthy hound!
God! I am reeling brain and body! I swound!
The floor heaves up! The worms devour my breast!
Beasts and lewd fish and winged things infest
Each vital part! Screech, tats! More liquor! Come!
Rumble, you rotting whore/skin of a drum!
I care not! Scream, you rats! Snakes, bite and hiss!
Hell’s spawn, I mouth you with this putrid kiss!
Satan! Damnation! This is the abyss!

---Aleister Crowley---

Wed, 18 Apr 2007 06:26:43 GMT

I am tired. I truly don't understand things, or people, or life, or existence, the order, the universe, work, relationships, money, happiness, addiction, self acceptance, and most of all... you.

The person who drifts by not giving a fuck. The one who slides through life never thinking twice about anything. The one who gets everything handed to them on a silver platter filled with decadence. You, who is selfish, and ununderstanding. You who is the President of the United States of America. You who is the money collecting whore of capitalism. You who makes my job difficult. Mollock! Mollock! Mollock! The destroyer! The material fundamentalist, and the Jesus Christ Super Star! You who sleeps soundly at the sound of sirens and war cannons! You who can't understand sympathy and existensilism. You who will live many lives to be who I killed several incarnations ago! You who is running the world, and you who is smiling gladly on over perscribed medications. I toast to you! I smile and greet you with loving arms and an open heart. You I thank for reminding me why I am on this desolatee path, because it is you I do not want to be. It is you who is my Coronos, my devil, my death. Thank you for being you! Every man and every woman is a star!!!

Poetry

Thu, 29 Mar 2007 06:15:53 GMT

I do

I do.
I feel the stars as they die every second of the day
Yet I die each time one is born.
When will the grass explain how it feels to be walked upon by gods and goddesses that don’t care to recognize their potentiality cutting and screaming and yearning for attention from nothing less then their demons who really are their gods who really yearn for their own sacrifice upon the very cross that demands attention?
Attention!!!
Awake and arise to freedom!
The petals of the scentless lotuses that wait on the ponds of sanctity and evilness pure, and contemplate all that is caressing the soul upon that very ocean of orgasm.

Today is just a speck of eternity and you, you are its’ picture frame
And I am the joker; the laugh of every second on the clock of time
Seeming like a time to cry I’d rather tell you that I love you!

2006