Wonderful View XXVIII

To lose or get lost is to be immersed in the thousands fold of conscious and subconscious realities…or so some say to me, in a bad acid-laden hunt, once upon a long, purplish, crimson night ago… 

Saintly Death

I used to dream of dying a heroic death. Defiant to the last gasp of breath. Clad in loincloth, armed with big-ass swords, axes, like Conan in the comics..Bathory and Manowar in the band photos…Defending justice, in self- righteous, brutal carnage.

Of course, one eventually grows up and realized heroism has no value other than in Hollywood. That violence and big weapons belongs to the sole monopoly of state apparatus on whom we can always rest our utmost trust and reliance for fairness, safeness and squeaky-cleanness….

No more needs for dying saints…we just need more saintly gadgets and applications to solve whatever little problems we have left in the world now…

Spirituality

One cannot stress enough the importance of vetted experience, for anyone professing proficiency in spiritual guidance…If you haven’t been to the darker paths you surely cannot talk about leading others to it.

Why are we, or some of us, so addicted on being lead, spiritually, intellectually, technologically, culturally, anyway? I suppose that deserves its own thread doesn’t it?

Optimism

Someone ask me once if I could ever be an optimist with such misanthropic view of life. Truly, it is interesting how some very unsettling and most intriguing questions, or conversational topics, could come up while you are out on a hunt, regardless of who brought up the questions/topics.

Since we continued talking about it at a ruin chosen before hand for proper homage to the hunting gods, I chose to reflect my thought on the surrounding circumstances. That in the face of structural decay, one could feel optimistic about a possible renovation of the structure, or of an inevitable destruction of the structure, both plausible in the future.

Surely, optimism is but a ‘function’ of each individual’s viewpoint is it not?  Just as music in its many genres/forms always appear to me as a reflection of the musicians’ true desire/heart. If the desire/heart is dark, so shall the music expression be dark.

If the heart/desire is misanthropic, so shall the ‘optimism’ be misanthropic.  

Teasers

I do like it when a fresh, bold approach to a certain familiar music genre teases my brain in such delightful ways, that one doesn’t even think too much anymore about who shall be the next game on the hunt. 

I’m sure my shrink will approve of this therapeutic approach of musical “teasers”…which also stop me and the knives in my heart from being constantly feeling ‘teased’ by her lovely legs, and disgusting jade-green brooch.

Pain

I gave you lust and genitalia so you can procreate

Spread across the planet with your kind

Master the land the sea and the skies

Spread wanton destruction on your scorched paths

For which you shall be grateful

And pay me by blood, in full

Children of pain and dying hopes

Old One, Again

The Old One told me there is no evil but the underbelly of the sacrificial holiness. No light without darkness, and no love without hate.

Duality is the law of this existence, and so shall it be the bane of this realm. Let there be no prudence without ignorance, and no peace without horrors.

Triad

Is three pair really such a crowd? If it is so, could it perhaps explain why the Judaeo-Pantheon is such an oppressive and confusing matter? 

Didn’t we first learn about a divined triad form the Egyptians? Was it a crowd back then too, when Amun, Ra and Ptah had to co-exist in the Sinai pantheon? 

Was it equally crowded when Josef and Mary and their newborn baby huddled together in a barn, and welcomed the three wizards, who were led and witnessed by the unholy star?…

Commemorate

What would be better to commemorate the slaying of a leader, than to slay one’s own flesh?

So bring your knives to the hills and forest, tonight, mighty disciples of the infinite light….Let the night bath in blood as the supreme leader hath done to our enemies, in times immemorial…

Old One

I have had a most intriguing meeting with the Old One, last Samhain. It must have been the most inspiring banquet I have ever attended.

A dinner fit for a wise King and the hardened souls of infinite light…

Whip

Man is, essentially, wicked. Therefore, the need for men to be whipped with a Moloch-ian flaming, searing, flesh ripping lash, is, essentially, unavoidable and very much warranted. 

Magick

I believe in the subtlety of Magick, ever primordial and imminent, lingering within the threshold of the conscious and subconscious mind, the cleavage and the breast of the ancient, universal goddess… 

True Magick, which lifted my spirit when burdened by the throes of life, and soared me up to unfathomable heights when burnt by the ecstasies of life…An Old Magick, that reminds me of Home…

The Old Craft

I am a being of immemorial light and endless possibilities, am I not?

What I think and want from whatever falls unto my senses, shall be so. An old cross, a dark sky, and a whole saga to bear… 

My stories are as old as my luminous being, cast down to this mundane realm by mischief, they shall survive and thrive, at the precipice of every evening tide ...

Lost in the Moment II

Give me access to the infinite skies of primal chaos and I will find myself a creeping, desolate world of nightmarish yearning…

Where darkness is a swirling mass of potent life force, churning in isolation and silence, lying in wait for the imminent days of destruction…in constant muttering of cataclysmic mantras

Wonderful View XXVI

I think I’ve heard of a perfect soundtrack for this sign….Something with ‘blood’ and ‘sixteen’ on it…

The Real Panacea

The real answer to the problem of banality is, ultimately, our mortality.

As my favorite Danish musicians so aptly put it, no medicine is as potent as death.

So bring that gun to the chin, when the banality of a prosperous or poverty stricken life comes calling….

All your problems solved, in an instant. Guaranteed

Take your loved ones along, and be faithful to the very end…

Propaganda

The key to public control is a fine balance of persuasion and coercion, a sense of freedom and an omnipresent surveillance, free speech and propaganda, with the latter supplanting the ineffectiveness of the former, whenever necessary.

Carrots and sticks…Criticism and entrapment….Shamanic meditation and sacrificial ritual 

The only truth is the lies drowning in the brainwashed hippie’s bong pipe….and the blood soaked tips of my blades

Cunt

I am the flaming vengeance of the undead hatred, frothing for pay back, in the name of my self-righteousness, and perpetual chaos.

I am the dark star reborn, from the glowing pits of hell’s embers, bursting at the seams with relentless misanthropy, to exact judgment on your filthy deeds…. 

Cunt!

Barter

Let’s trade, shall we?

A share of my hunting soundtrack mix-tape, for a piece of your soul.

Who knows, you might learn to enjoy hunting too

O Labyrinths

O Borges, is this Thee labyrinth, Thine palace of immortals, so splendidly hidden, in the dark, icy depths of Ultima Thule?