Aphorism II (2014)

Is the thought of something grander so grand;
It is almost belittled by what we do already know?
Is the belief in gnosis such foolery in context;
amongst quantum physics; technology; medicine; space travel?
Is the thought of god so very spectacular next to the disturbing colossus
of the wholeness of the Void that comprise our everything?

On Emotions & Sharing Them (2013)

This might be the most fundamental principle of life, a law of existence; it is impossible to impose oneself upon someone else in a perfectly imitative and definite way; it is useless thinking that one could force people to feel suggested emotions: some feel them, or atleast something akin to them which bears a similar integrity so thay you may establish a link to them. Some feel not, or honestly, most feel not, because they are so overwhelmingly preoccupied with other shit; then a link won't be established, because you'd hate them... Only through personal experience, one could experience life, and only through personal experience, one could understand life... And since life is being thoroughly explored - each day a new conquest - it leaves us with the unexplored - the riddles without answers, labyrinths without threads leading out - namely, the experience of it. For who could explain the experience of it without losing themselves in explaining the mere tangible part of it all?

Aphorism (2014)

We all born, we all die, this is fixed - but in between, you are God

Dignity (2013)

I never won this war because there was never really a war, just two parties subconsciously knowing their rightful places without publically admitting it, out of shame on one hand, and out of dignity on the other.

Contempt (2014)

If I could sell these contempts; If I could show the world all our ugly faces;
these burning sensations of disdain rooting us firmly to the swamp wastes;
if I could bottle this hatred in tiny containers and spread them with my kin,
If I would let the wolves carry it in the nocturnal speeches from their hoarse throats,
I am telling you… the world would end tomorrow.

Aphorism III (2013)

Every bad habit is a curse; every form of abuse is acidic venom running amok in the sanguine plasma. Whether it be the alcohol, the serenity of morphine, the crystal eyes of amphetamines or the burning self-deceit of egalitarianism...

I Exist Because I Think; I Cry Because I Exist (2014)

White eyes stare down the barrel of hideous truth
The water is dark in there is hair in it
Braded hair that is attached to something dead
In one single drop of this murky water
Hides the thousand victims of their own birth

The worst thing I know are these many victims
For they respect their executioner; birthgiver
Green skin, scabs cover the decomposing faces
Lifting a pitcher of water above their heads
Washing themselves clean with thought vomits
Swollen eye-balls rise to the surface
Glaring into the disturbing nothingness of being
With a seven-pronged crown and a sword of pungent fire

My thoughts are mine, my thought is me;
I exist because I think;
I cry because I exist;
I laugh because I cry;
I cry because I laugh;
I smile because I am;
I am because I say I am - I experience.
Therefore, I know what I will do -
Follow the experiences
until I know what I will do.
And when I know what I will do,
It will be done.
Otherwise,
fuck you, me.

Saving the Planet (2013)

"Save the planet", "Save this earth"
Global warming was never a threat to this planet!
Do not try to sell me that shit
The planet has been through far worse
It is an ever-transforming entity
It is not a threat to the planet; is it a threat to you!
The only thing you are trying to save is yourself
You don't care about the planet
You care about your natural habitat
And the secured future of your asshole children
At least have the dignity to confess that
You don't give a shit about this planet
You just want to be safe

The Story That Did Not Become (2013)

When you start seeing beauty in the infections and the open sores, and when you see blossoming gardens, but rear away - when you prefer rotten verdures over them - then you need to start worrying. Not because there is something particularly wrong with you, but because everything is right with you, and that you have a long journey ahead. You begin to feel the rancid smell of your own composture blocking out the fragrant spring with all its greenery, and memories faint into grey smudge, and you feel dizziness and uncomfortability in your own skin, and you feel almost like... like psychosomatic vermin crawling under it, and when you feel the combined pressure of the world ocean resting on your fragile temples, something odd and new takes place. Let me tell you something; when you think about anguish and suffering, maybe you draw to mind broken bones, flesh lesions running amok with bright red blood, fingers bent backwards or perhaps the horrible sensation of fire engulfing the human body... Let us be clear: the real suffering takes place inside the human soul; catastrophes are somatoform... Do you know what that means, "somatoform"?
- "No".
Well, it means it h-
- "I have never heard the word before", she said.

Solace & Nausea (2012)

This is the nature of our world! Of our flesh, of our minds...
In their eyes, saltrubbed, sprinkled with ammoniac, they have no eyes
They have no teeth, no ears, no nostrils, no lungs, no flesh, no life
By demanding extra-mortal life, and by the means of a Cult giving out that promise, a certain stagnation makes root in the psycho-spiritual swamp of a collective kin, a megolamania of sorts... the profound self-deceit of holy solace is sinking into their skin, corrupting slowly, like a venom... By denying the possibility of power in the Now, by obscuring whatever flame there is left in their lashed hearts, one asserts the certainty of a life in the distant future, beyond life, without any kind of earnest, spirit, sweat, blood, commitment nor determination to back it up, just a mere promise... a mere word bleating through the echoing, empty chambers of the innermost cavities of their hearts... not actions, not feelings, not accomplishments, but a mere word, and the word is solace...

Through the guaranteed offer of eternal spiritual existence, that disease of Juda spreading rampant. - like a pack of ravenous wolves, -  humankind sinks into the manure below their feet, and they cant swim it... It is an embarassing appeal to the most basal egoism of general man, a religio-political strategy as wicked in its obtuseness as it is in its success, it spreads wide... It is to this pitiful compliance to subhuman psycho-emotional patterns the Christian sect should offer its gratitude... It is to this embarrasing, shallow flattery of all lost, drifting cattle they can build upon their victory... It is in this fashion the Hebraic Sect has attracted the most disappointing refuse of our Species, not only as a call to slavery, subordination, servitude, unseen chains... but to Power, Influence, Domination! 

They feel an overwhelming sickness in the thought of achievement at the sacrifice of something else, whether it be the wellbeing of oneself or even that of human beings never even cared about; through-out a whole life seen upon as nothingness, a mere cloud of anti-emotion! But in the moment of true quandary, this carelessness will be given up to make way for self-deceptive egalitarianism, generosity, peace!... Nothing must be the spoils of a War, for therein lie the agony of another! They paint themselves into a corner, locking themselves into cocoons of trembling fear, paranoia, uncertainty, blindness and worse! They feel nauseous at the mere thought of something vaster... As long as they have their shallow promise of post-existence, nothing can get in the way of their comfortable numbness (Save only I!)

The God that Paulus created is a negation of the God that breathe in the hearts of the Elect; Nietzsche saw this, I see it as well.

H O R D A L A N D

vägar som ormar av eld och blod
ringla genom berg av järn och dimma
vildmark tjärn göl tiotusen tunnlar
heder myrar tiotusen vattenfall
   det är så vackert -
   jag känner mig alldeles hemma.

hordaland ---
  landskapet blöder ymnigt
  sin skönhet
jag blöder ymnigt
mina syndasår
över detta landskap
som ymnigt blöder
sin skönhet över mig -
som blöder mina synder.

en mild bris av rutten tång och tjära
en vacker stavkyrka rest på ännu glödande kol
i dessa dagar lever det förgågna,
och det som ännu ej skett,
i lika skön symbios som i frän spefullhet.

isande vind uppepå fjället
eteriska skuggor vimla ur tusentals portaler av sten,
en förfluten kärlek hemsöker ännu mig,
och överspiller mitt hjärta med vulkanisk aktivitet.
det är verkligen vackert här---
     metempsykotisk nostalgi
     slå ut i full blom --- evigt liv.

jag är huldran som smyger längs förvirringens
   och trötthetens fjordväggar
i jakt på en hemlighet som ruvats på
genom de heliga kollapsade solarnas epoker
   någonstans i den snåriga obygden
av en drake med kollapsade nebulosor som ögon
skulpterad i gråsten,
   och krönt till konung under vøringsfossens fall!

hordaland, skönhet:
  landskapet blöder ymnigt
  sin skönhet ---
jag blöder ymnigt
mina syndasår
över detta landskap
som ymnigt blöder
sin skönhet
  över mig ---
  som blöder mina synder.

hordaland stal mitt hjärta
men aldrig har jag hört en ursäkt;
en bön om förlåtelse har aldrig nått mig;
jag saknar upprättelse; ånger.
dessa kedjor av berg och och dimma
och hängande gråa moln
kompenserade mig aldrig för min sorg,
   så jag fortsatte också gråta---

     ...blev min wanderlust
        så även mitt fördärv?

cult of the dead cat resurrecting fallen temple
aug. 3, 2015

från tredje:

rojava