Masters

Whatever I swing the athamay for it is not for any masters unless it is for their destruction and exploitation for my own, mastery….

I don’t follow, I don’t bend, I am untamed and ceaseless.

Forever prowling.

Beauty

Would beauty exist without the flesh, a drinking buddy once asked and hence stirred a life-long interest in the subject.

I honestly don’t know if it does depend on the flesh. Come to think of it, taxidermy would not be so intriguing if beauty lies independent of the flesh, wouldn’t it?

It is always beautiful when it bleeds, though.

One’s Diatribe is Another’s Accolade

“There is nothing spontaneous or accidental about "rock." It is a product of classical studies of the ancient Phrygian terrorist cult of Satan-Dionysos, the model for the Roman Bacchic cults of similar characteristics. Crowley’s control of the "rock industry" has been documented by a team of [private] investigators, who have also noted, that in addition to the Satanist lyrics, Satanist messages embedded sublimely in rock recordings are a key feature of this subversive operation. 

The "rock rhythm" itself is copied from the old Dionysian-Bacchic cults. Even without the drugs and sexual orgies which are characteristic features of hard-core rock affairs, repeated, frequent, hours-long exposure to constant repetition of "rock rhythms" produces lasting, drug-like effects on the mind of the victim. Reducing sexual practices to the level of bestiality, is a crucial feature of Satanism in all historical periods studied, from Phrygian Cybele-Dionysos cult-period onward.”

Lyndon LaRouche

Abandoned

Saw a very interesting, sad, pale game yesterday. So sad, it actually looks as if the whole cosmos has vacated her bluish, dreamy eyes, even as life writhes to survive within that pale flesh.

I wonder if it's the hunter and assassin within that brought such sense of abandon.

What’s Yours, What’s Mine

What’s yours and what’s mine, is something that needs to be subtly decided, divided…

…hacked and slashed, in absolute greed and hatred….less no decision, no division, shall suffice…

Buttering Up

What’s the point of buttering up someone? No matter how many times I think about it, seen it happen, or heard about it from others, I’ve never been able to grasp the purpose of that disgusting act. 

Is it about gaining some sort of access to ‘power’, or ‘influence’? Is it about survival? 

What if you get caught by others doing it? Does that make you refrain in shame or just continue in complete disregard for anyone other than yourself?  What if you get caught by someone who hates all manners of hypocrisy? 

What if you then end up being decapitated, along with the asshole you’re buttering up to, and made to have your severed heads kiss each other, in some beautiful postmortem type of artistic expression?

Well. I guess there’s always worse ways to die.