28 apr. 2022

i had really fun with this one

2013 maybe? 2014, 2015, something like that

  "Spiritually Transmitted Doctrine"


Hearken, lepers, beggars, the spiritually transmitted doctrine
Of love, hate, peace, war, life, death, in fusion
In fetters welded, apprehended, captured, locked in,
Tucked soft like a changeling in the crib of confusion.
Where's your hope? - in the furnace of life it is burning,
Ashen, with your culture as Oswald Spengler concluded,
Your utopian gospels and wet dreams and your yearning
Cried by children igniphobic mouthing prayers deluded;

Plow patient your fields; you'll find your Nag Hammadi
Treasures and chests under the throne of Great Athena
And though the West's still alive, I can already smell the rot of its body
And I scour in patience, hungry like the mother hyena;
Perplexing like life, yet clear as a hindsight
I unearth the apocalypse like fucking Tell el-Muqayyar,
Like an awkward social phobic caught in the limelight
But trembling with true will and scolding like fire...

You are Iraq, you are Syria - and I am the fury of ISIS
Carrying AK-47's, planting IED's of ideas
I am the randomness fated in the roll of the dices
The paradoxical conclusion; the essence of Theos
I am a Nietzsche and a horse in a yin-yang of nothing
Sobbing over each other on the back streets of Turin;
A child stillborn, arisen, leaving vacant its coffin
Canonized through hip hop and anointed with urine!

Life's an HIV syringe, and Sartre was right;
All humans are veins and I have gone lost in Bouville,
Hopelessness IntraVenous, angst, a slow burning kite
Against a backdrop of darkness, the horizon, nihil...
Spiritually Transmitted Doctrine, egalitarian hate speeches
Mixing like venom with the rancid blood that is seeping
From the wound left by the bite of the bloodsucking leeches
On the blemished skin of old Mother Europe weeping...

it seems to me impossible to refute the mythological substrate and the fundamental metaphysics of judeo-christianity once you understand it properly. however it is possible to refute some of its ethics  even if you understand it properly. and it is from this insight i take the next step in the direction towards my redemption.

is the purpose of entertainment
to simply interrupt the reality
between the person and the world ?

and is the purpose of religion
to further the divide between them ?

is the purpose of fiction
to combat the loneliness
between the person and the world,
but the purpose of art
to radicalize that very loneliness ?

What may we do in the name of justice and peace? Hiroshima? Nagasaki? My Lai? Were the killing fields of Cambodia a means to a just end? They threw children against trees until the screams silenced! That is barbarism... but the atom bombs? Can anyone believe the argument that the thermonuclear devastation of the two Japanese cities were necessitated by mercy and human solidarity? Shit! A humanitarian effort to end the war as soon as possible, and by doing so saving lives countless? I have certainly heard it being proposed. Maybe, who knows, really. It was surely an inspiring factor, at the least. If you are cynical, you would call it a propagandistic argument, but if you are idealistic, you would call it a humanitarian argument. And, while on the subject of the greatest war, I must ask you: was there a higher degree of common evilness amongst the Germans of the Third Reich than what could be found in for example the United States during the same historical period? A hideous question, but it is burning with hideousness like a light: when the collective goes insane, how does one assess the criteria of culpability for the individual?

 

The Inescapable Ugliness of the World (2016)

 It has become my life's main goal to never ever have to confess to some court of my tribunal and with the black sludge of shame and self-hatred having replaced my intestines that―"I was just following orders".

Yes, it has become my life's main goal to never fall victim to the destructive wave of the many, for my legs shall be steadfast in the morass it leaves when its waters retract with the tide of the black moon! Yes, it has become the purpose of my life to show myself―and the world―that it is indeed possible to do so. Yes, I repeat: If I ever have to confess to some court of my tribunal, with the black sludge of shame and self-hatred having replaced my intestines a long time ago, that "I was just following orders", then my worth as a human being has been irrevocably expended, and I shall be fated to a remorseless gallows... and the thought of this possibility, of becoming possessed by the many, is real to me and to everyone else, for it is a human possibility, and whatever is human in us is hard to scrape off with the blunt side of a knife―your knife, blade of impotency!

Humanity is not just a dog-shit smeared on the sole of our shoe, however much we may wish for that, and to admit defeat to the ugliest demons of this humanity is to admit defeat as a human being, and it is to become oneself a mere dog-shit on the sole of something greater; something sardonic, and something incomprehensibly Godlike...

Yes, I think to lose oneself is to become the many, and this has become, over the lapse of years, the most trepidating and anxious nightmare-prospect of my life, and indeed, it is the only existential prospect from which I feel tremendous horror... yes, that, and to die in a clumsy, accidental and humiliating way in front of people I loathe... thence, I shall do everything in my power to make sure that, if this day of somber reckoning really comes my path, if I truly find myself amongst the Echelon of the accursed and the weak, and if the judges and attorneys then smite me with the questions and inquiries whose responses I cannot formulate with a straight spine, then I shall recognize that I have failed catastrophically in my life. And then, hopefully, I shall surely have the power to kill myself out of pure and simple self-revulsion from uttering these words with a conscientious heart, "I was just following orders"!

For this reason,  I absolutely hate parts of what I am and what I am capable of. I am disgusted – sometimes in a very total way – by myself and my own capabilities. I would want to commit suicide out of shame – but maybe things have amounted, by then, to such a pathetic summit that I require fucking orders for that as well?

Who am I, even, to have the luxury of killing myself in my own debasement and self-hatred? Cattle are herded to the abattoir, and many people are killed or dead from forces and accidents beyond the scope of their control – and what can I say by this? Not all pigs cannot choose the glamour of suicide as their final statement to the world! It is a privilege to be equipped with the necessary faculties to commit the act of suicide. Tthe dark tide of history tells us this, and maybe that option will be depleted for me as well! For by this day, when it comes, if it comes, and afore the tribunal of my damnation, I have surely erased the lines I have focused a whole life to draw, the lines between the one and the many – and cowards do not deserve suicide! I am coward! Suicide as an existential option will not even occur in the mind of a coward, for cowardice is to be a single drop of water in the roaring flux of the waterfall, merely moving along, thundering down with a million others into the great and clamant noise of the river below...

But there is, though, hope – for it has become the goal of my whole project of self-improvement, indeed the focal purpose of my very life, to be able to, when the hearse comes my path, the phantom carriage of death, to be able to say, that in all my life, I never followed an order or a motivation I knew I ought not to follow.

Rudolf Höss could not redeem himself from his personal history of grotesque and repugnant atrocities by recognizing his submission to hierarchy and his indoctrination into a system of radical authoritarian collectivism, he tried that even as the pyres of his victim's ashes were still smoldering as he regretted and tried to repent himself before a world watching!

What a fool. But he was an interesting fool worthy of study. He was indeed a slave, but a willful one, because a slave of totalitarianism is one insofar as he is, by the same measuring rod, the slave of his own responsibilities. Remember: the perpetrators of the most barbaric and heinous cruelties more often than not evoke authority as the mechanism of their personal corruption – because they do not have in themselves the shame to recognize the true and premier of corrupting mechanisms, which is conformity – and not authority! Top-down authoritarian coercion is not a sufficient model for explaining the sickening crimes of the past and of the present... rather, it is my stern opinion that it should be explained fundamentally either by motivations of sheer psychopathic and/or sadistic malevolence, or by the socio-psychological mechanism of conformity; yes, I acknowledge, that sheer authoritarian pressure accounts for a great minority of the acts of malevolence, but it is hardly a foremost and sufficient model of analysis and intepretation in itself.

For example, I can tell you that there is not one single documented case of any German military or SS personnel during the Final Solution who faced brutalizing and grievous penance for refusing to execute whomever regarded subhuman. Even more abrasively – an astounding number of these perpetrators were voluntary in their participation of the systemic and industrial extermination of European Jewry. If that does not scare you, you are either totally stupid, ignorant by temperament, willfully blind, emotionally crippled, or – worst-case scenario – a vicious combination of all four of them.

19 mars 2022

new piece heavily influenced by a conversation with a dear friend of mine, working title "Eulogy" (work in progress)

we prosper at the moment and think it is eternal,
a human weakness amongst many !

and we do so without realizing the inherent fallacy of endless growth

as a consequence,  we come mock balance
and we come to worship the excess and comfort
we have deludely confused with growth,
with development and prosperity

we boast our sophistication as our bellies swell obesely,
as our minds overflow with the weakness of self-pity
and as our spines bend and cower in pathetic fatigue

we develop with greatest challenge and ordeal, and nothing about it is easy
but only the results linger in the end
and the struggle gets lost in the static aether of history

no-one remembers
no-one wants to remember
we do not have to remember
anymore

no past, no future !
only a utopia of broken glass and concrete

no nostalgia, no tradition
as long as the merchandise stays cheap

no justice, no peace !
as long as the charity of hypocrisy
ever turns its wheel

no pride, no self-respect !
on these heaps of plastic and styrofoam

we have become swine of bad standing !
and we have lost our respect
for nobility
for ancestry
for honor...

tradition replaced with decadence
modesty replaced with promiscuity
strife replaced with technology
existentialism replaced with cynicism
and the adoration of heroism replaced
with the martyrization of weakness

soulless emaciated figures creep
across the asphalt steppes
across the parking lots
across an endless decrepitude
of modernist architecture in ruination

we brag about philanthropy, humanism, 

charity, solidarity and egalitarianism
while our children are raped 

in the darkness of their very negations

but don't mention about it

here are no problems !
here are no hurdles !

we have created a culture
where people become "nice", "pleasant",
"decent" and "well-behaved",
but we have completely forsaken the art
of nurturing and fostering a hero, a warrior

we ignore the wisdom
that only kids with fucked up childhoods
become something in the end

and we shower them instead with the idea
that everything is okay

and it is a culture of mediocrity !
where mediocrity is lauded and awarded

it is a culture of indulgence !
where self-constraint and will-power
have become some ideals of history dispensed with

alienation, nihilism, spiritual emptiness
bloom in the gardens of a modern world
and all the botanists have gone insane,
feeding the flour beetles of hedonia,
nurturing its pests and vermins,
culturing a terror without value
without direction
and without moral sense

mass lassitude, erstwhile pride depleted !

equanimity and integrity but a memory fading
in the hive-mind of the shopping mall hordes
rhapsodic about not life itself
but about what in life can be purchased !

like porcelain vases filled with rotting flowers
are the cubicles and offices of our brave new world

like a pack of sorry adulterers moaning in stock and bondage,
whipped and mocked all the way to the ravenstone,
the human mass moves, yet still they are smiling -

they do not understand their fate.

they do not grasp what they have done unto themselves

but i see clearly

i carry forbearance and the werewithal to act and react

i am designed
a hunter
a lover
a person

but i am condemned
to a world
of shopping,
of hating,
and of non-persons

and upwards i turn my head
and upwards i scream my angst :

is the cobra no longer fierce beneath its reptile hood?
is the fire in the eyes of tigers no longer red and hot?
are the deeds of men and wombs of women no longer bearing culture?

nothing anymore to kill
nothing anymore for which to fight
nothing anymore to overcome
nothing anymore to explore

here we have goods !
here we have commodity !
here we have comfort and the ever proliferation of ease !

why build, why work, why create
when you can buy ?

dignity, honor, reputation and self-respect
means nothing now
when they are put on shelves
for the hungry fool to consume blindly

cheap wisdom for sale
cheap pleasure for sale
cheap comfort for sale

nothing feels different
nothing feels good anymore
nothing wills to be different -

except i !

i am different
i will to be different
i shall acquire difference
and i shall proclaim this difference
as independence

my library contains the obscure epistolary wisdoms
of multi-centennial correspondences
between dogmatic bishops and so-called heretics !

i have letters in hundreds, in thousands, in tens of thousands !

 and we shall remember when the night comes
 that only one letter differs
 a total lie from a from a life total !

    appendix :

it has been said :

"power corrupts,
and absolute power
corrupts absolutely"

this is a falsity.

power does not corrupt people.
it is people who corrupt power.

and that is what ultimately happened to us

and i horripilate !
i awe in fear and terror

i gaze deep into the **** of Gaia
and i taste therefrom what i can

i fall onto my knees
before the anti-clockwise chaos-vortex
that is love

and love opens my eyes, and i see !

and what do i see? 

i see

the end

of the world

3 mars 2022

From the upcoming cassette release of "Arktis" by LOVEBOY

(the cassette release will include "atmospheric poems" accompanying each track. it is an idea heavily inspired by what Varg did on his two ambient prison albums)

The Shamanic Worship of Arnakuagsak, Goddess of Walrusses & Sea Lions

upon the ghost mountain
a sacrificial pit of dead seals and arctic birds
gutted, embellished with their entrails
arranged as works of art
in a shamanic geometry obscure

shrubs, lichens and mosses are placed
on animistic altars

a jam of seal's fat and bearberries
smeared on wooden figurines esoteric
holding small stone weapons
and adorned with gleaming eyes of arctic sapphire

there is a skin woven over and around the moon this night,
and it is the skin of Arnakuagsak,
goddess of walruses and sea lions
and in the center of that skin
there is a miniscule hole
from which her piercing ray of light
emerges violently

the shaman becomes
epicentral to the world
through the shamanic worship of Arnakuagsak

frozen cubes of whale's blubber,
arctic mushroom dried in summer,
grinded walrus-tusk and whiskers,
tooth and fermented sea lion's marrow
are put in boiling cauldron's broth

the shaman lets it cool,
pours it into his goblet and proceeds to devour it

and the spirit of the shaman
becomes the receptacle
of a violent collision
of earthly and unearthly energies
through the shamanic worship of Arnakuagsak
tradition breathes and survives
even should the white man complete his destructive task
of melting all the ice around us;
of raping completely our beautiful homeland,
Inuit Nunangat


Something from 2015

Radicalization is but a dysphemism for uncompromising individuation – because society cannot tolerate uncomp-romising individuation.

Society is founded on conformity. Why? Because it can otherwise not exist. Society must to some degree oppress individuality in order to function and from this compromise, we get civilization. Society cannot handle the full bloom of individuality because it is a potential threat to the stability of its very foundation. Because by the point the truly personal essence has become manifest in the warrior human, and when it has begun working for its own completion, there is no stopping to it: with every spade of soil the human digs, a larger and larger heap of rubble accumulates, as if building a barricade against the world, and with every spade of soil, a deeper and deeper hole of introspection emerges, a hole to hide in, a mole's nest, a Hira of the soul.

As you build your bulwark against the world, you erect your own mausoleum in the process.

I dare say that the maximization of individuality breeds fanaticism, and there can be almost no stopping to it given it is authentic. Authenticity constitutes the strongest human capital and it is its worthiest resource, but four potential banes I can identify that might stop the authenticization of the individual in its tracks:

  1. one can regress existentially through suicide. Either a heroic one, a tragic one or a pathetic one (or likely some multifaceted combination);

  2. secondly, one might become killed, destroyed by a stronger enemy;

  3. thirdly, one can submit out of weakness to willful capitulation to simple and comfortable conformity (a slow and exponential bloodletting of the spiritual body);

  1. and as for the fourth, some debilitating misfortune of accidence may strike your path (often beyond the scope of our direct control).

(But only from these obstacles of existence might the monolithic Panzer IV of the Lord’s army get stuck in the Rasputitsa of the world!)

16 jan. 2022

I AM ACCIPITRIDAE

ensorcelled by the mare
under orphic crepuscule
i stand

cold and cruel glacial winds
i confront courageously

wings those of a mighty bird
across my tattered scapulae
i spread

the magic of many gipseian moons
i behold

sonorous echoes across the vale
responding just like thunder
 to my ever proclamation :

    i am accipitridae !

THE PILLAR SAINT

statuesque pillar saint woebegone
in perpetual management of proprioception
lost in a gloaming psychedelic,
darkly vortexing

parching, thirsting to death,
lost to desultory indifference
in mysterious contemplation and adoration
of human excellence up there on the pillar

the golden blood of the saint downward running
pylons, downward pillars,   
vines of vermillion veins
fractally forming around them,
contorting around them,
growing about them weblike
spinal-cordially
like intelligence antenna
towards the starry sky

humming lullaby of endless night, susurring all around !

  a stature demure

  yet such beguiled, stupid flesh !

from Christly wounds cascading
black blood upon dead skulls supine on wettened grass below

4 jan. 2022

composite of two older (ca 2015-2016) pieces

 PEELING THE LAYERS OF THE  
 NIHILISM ONION  

        meandering tributaries
        to the great subterranean ocean
        whose ends obscure into forever
        are we all !

   in continual sempiternal becoming
   without ends, without fixed courses,
   are we like rivers
   whirling with the waters
   of disquiet

   a world with no purpose
   no meaning
   no apparent truth

   an existence
   so absurd and cruel
   and incomprehensible
      are we
      vomited forth into

    your hundred false dichotomies
    are all tentacles of the same colossal squid―
    the Cthulhu of human existentialism

     saluted are those
     who entrust their passions
     to no-one but themselves :
     from your own alienation and angst
     you must forge action
     and from these actions
     you shall live and you shall die
     with the prospect of unconditional happiness
     as an unattainable idea smeared like dirt
     under the heel of your marching boot

   there are no shortcuts
   to hard, honest work

   we all aspire
   to nothing
   but the passion
   we feel
   as we feel

   we all amount
   to nothing
   but the actions
   we form
   out of the formlessness
   that is our passion

   and passion
   is the only signpost
   with worth :

   find what you love
   and let it destroy you !

   it has been said before :

        what else could one do ?
 
     a passion is something
     worth suffering for :
     thus, in extension,
     suffering is a packmule of meaning

     he who fears suffering
     fears also life,
     and in the storm of that insight
     we carve ourselves a totem !

      and by the way :

   without humans and their extraordinary
   spiritual properties, the world is valualy dead

the human is the only being in this world
potentially capable of transcending
the bestial levels of privation
and making manifest a higher form of consciousness

the human is the only being in this world
capable of existential assessment, religious thought
and the conceptualization of time and temporality

the human is the only being in this world
capable of sacrificing the present for the future

the human is the only being in this world
inclined to instinctual conscience and morality,
as well as unexplainable levels of evil and malevolence
foreign even to the beasts of our forests and seas !  

and the human is the only being of love and angst...

the human is the only being in this world
capable of turning worthless reality
into meaningful reality

 the human amounts to nothing but the actions she forms   
 out of the formlessness that is her passion raw

   the human finds what she loves and lets it destroy her !

the intrinsic worthlessness of all ideals, all petty hopes
and all good causes must be known !
the intrinsic worthlessness of every thought,
every good will and every strangled impulse
of compassion should be known beforehand,
so that we not fall into that bottomless, uproarious swirl
of idealism, hedonism, and utopia

   the human soul must “activate” the value of an action

   and we do so by actually acting out that action
   instead of merely idealizing it, bragging about it,
   talking about it, theorizing it―

   before an act has been acted out, it is ontologically null,  
   existentially theoretical, therefore nonexistent,
   therefore worthless...

   and that is the opening statement
   in the declaration of human freedom !

1 jan. 2022

from "Zartosht"

the solar king decrees from the pulpit of Zoroastrian existentialism :

the aura of the human spirit is full of carbon subnitride and the enemy is a ghost made of sparks and faint lights

the radiant crown of Ahura Mazda emits an electrothermal heat five-hundred-thousand degrees hotter than the human heart

a new explanatory model and a religious underpinning to how we ought to explain the mechanisms of the fire tetrahedron has been sought but not found

Zartosht himself sought the wisdom of the mountain but came down therefrom a man transformeda wolf and a fool one half each !

he had crossed the tetrahedron of fire !

his breath had become the vapor of balsam-wood and his flesh had turned into coal ! his body was covered in an oil of existence which forced him into refuge from human worlds because everywhere there are sparks

not yet may he become the fire of Ahura Mazda because he has not yet enough oxygen to nurture its flame in eternity

 

Wardoves

the forest yawns with its tongue waning towards the smiling moon, blazing sparks into fires across the firmament, revering the supreme silence of nordic night

i hear the twittering of wardoves, scouting from their primeval watchtowers

ancient eldritch sirens wail their songs moor-over,

while their ***** are hot and flaming,

boiling geothermally

18 dec. 2021

BILLOWING PURPLE FIRES

apocalyptic abrasions tear

across earth and sea and sky


crepuscular beast of no moon

reveals and unreveals


ambiguous forms of vapor

from crack and crevice emergant


close-mouthed apparition appears

forever and ever nose-breathing


billowing purple fire


from the great abyss the deadly vortex forms

clouds of rancid breaths breathed

from open mouths breathing hellstorms


exhale insidious tar-storm, mordant flame


red fangs in the brume funereal protrude

beneath shimmering eyes judgemental

consciousness rapidly oxidates

in the immediate surroundings

of this revelatory conflagration


billowing purple fire !


velvet and brimstone !


ever igniparous Holy spirit !


a crown and a wreath

to the lava-throne

where upon

a fire god sits


the true God !

TYRANNIC ERA OF THE IGNIVOMOUS HYDRA

phosphor and fire like wings engulf

optimism's throne


phosphorous fires break out


bleak death, darkness !

the ignivomous hydra attacks

the very reasons of humanity


it exhales the breath of life

from at least seven throats

(i could not dare count them !)

and now the Eucharist of genocide

has been delivered

to all whoreborn children of Gomorrah


glorious, buoyant future

or the dark doom of apocalypse―

i want to speak to whomever could tell !