a master debaiter; a cunning linguist

(being an assemblage of aphorisms in phenomenological psychonautics)

 

 

 

 

..step into the mind of a dark magus, son..this isn't a game (or it is..? .. if so the stake is your very soul)..& u..? you don't even have a move; you just think you do..meanwhile we've @LLready wwn(w)h

 

 

 

 

 

..& I will be king so long as there is a thing as a king.. but never over you..only of me, & my astral space..

 

 

 

 

 

Success, the schmuck says, what’s success if it ain’t your best? Where you gonna go and who you gonna turn into? Are you there sitting in front of the boob tube wishing your world was something that it apparently isn’t? Are you wishing you were an actOR? Get off your ass and be one who acts, you ponce! 

 

If you are happy making some other TV personalities dreams a reality, then fine, stay glued to the couch, zoned out into passive oblivion while some people plant a culture in your mind - who knows what it’s gonna grow into; and that’s just fine!

 

 

But if you want a different world, well then you’d better start to be an actor in reality. And, you only think you know what that reality is; what someone told you, sold to you as a kid and took for granted because they were big. Should have known better, but they only knew their own little slice of heaven and hell that they had passed through up to that point, even if they never could put the worth of their experience into words to pass on. 

 

 

 

So you have to figure it all out on your own - so sad! Boohoo, get to work building the world that you want into reality. You don’t want any laws you say? You want reality to bend to every passing whim winding its way into your mind? Is that success? To cheapen all things to the point of mere imaginings? Or is success to take your place amongst the immortals, stormed by a force outside of the habitual ruts of the mass musing? 

 

 

Whatever it is, you’d better believe in yourself damn it: nolite te bastardes carborundorum. ‘Cause they will try - they want their slice of the pie, their success, and they think (rightly or wrongly) that that means you’d better lay down and die, your comatose corpses piled high pushing the things they want into their lives. You are either an actor, or a viewing member of the public - you decide.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

transcisions & superstitions 

 

 

Shades (thus named because he was a master debaiter; a cunning linguist..wait, what..? 🤔)...

..this is why success is not entirely a good thing..

 

do you remember when we first started out, so fresh & pure, love in our hearts & an undeniable thirst for truth?

..the one who laughs last wins..never forget that; it's one of the most important things you'll come across.. because those who laugh first will want you to forget it..to think they've already won..

 

..it's a good con, man, but you conned the wrong conman..

 

 

"& they were so innocent when they first started out.."

(if that's what you heard, u weren't listening to begin with..)

 

 

..they gnow everything, my spirit friends do..just that they don't always tell me cuz I might not like the truth..

..a stupid song stuck in my head.."this is the dawning of the age of aquarius, age of aquarius"..

 

..either way, I win, sucker..that's why I'm called a master of this game..because even when I lose, I can turn it into a win..

 

..it's not really that nothing's free..but everything has an equal & opposite, see..?

 

power over yourself, not power over others..I'd never seek to have power over my sisters or my brothers

 

..flog me & crucify me; hog-tie me, bury me for 3 daze..I'll still come back & fight for you..

..you either laugh at everything, or you laugh at nothing is my experience..I laughed when I was in hell being beaten by the demons there..but I didn't laugh too loud, cuz that just seemed to aggravate them I guess..I did find the situation funny tho; me, a fighter for freedom & the very future of humanity, getting beat down..don't you find that amusing..

..the successful will succeed anywhere; but the fool is a fool everywhere..

 

..we never sought acclaim, fame, or to glorify our name; we just wanted to show certain bishes how the masters play this game..

 

 ..tighten up; discard the superfluous..you wanna win?..one word: focus..

 

..& just so you gnow, I give only slightly less of a fuck about you than I do about me..@LL I care about is the Work (like you can't tell? can't you tell? u can tell can't you..?)

 

.. I'm not good at lying..I wish I was..cuz I'd be more successful if I was a better liar..

 

..those destroyers of the earth & her progeny, those malicious, destructive people aren't here any more; because I am..& as long as I'm here, they won't be back neither..

 

he said trajectories; we @LL need to have a drink

 

effective immediately: we are at war..& yea, I think I'm getting wet/hard/whatev..cuz war is where I really belong..it's in peace time that I don't..

..for me, success has @LLways been about following your he/art..u might not make it into the coveted club of the 1% that way, but I'll personally guarantee that you'll be fulfilled..as will many of the so-called masters.. 

..& like a puff of smoke, he was gone, like he'd never been to begin with (the we were never (w)here order holds no quarter) ..once the job was done, he was no more

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

"each thing I show you is a piece of my death"

 

- Marilyn Manson 

..& immediately I re:membered this vision of a pyramid being built, only instead of bricks, the lower levels were the previous generations that had come to pass..& it was still being built..& the only way it could advance in its progress is for the elders to die & pass on their energy to the younger, to the children, their own future..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"We must conceive of time as a resource" 

-William S Burroughs, from an interview

 

 

 

 

Impulse isolated in chime.
 

 

Eternal inches of Imperial promulgation tax our ass until inclinations are now a crime.

 

Drama. Add)iction (Vertisement

Impulse flexing on stratospheres of impoverished reason.
 

 

Weightlessly, in vain.

Dimensions of self-reflection cast into christened cages.
 

Fission swimming for sharks through a blight of crimson light.
 

Fish are unaware until the sink drains.  This is our stage.

 

We find ourselves doctoring margins. Forecasting for hope that fab1ed shepherds will be watching.

We consistently plot doors over potential portals.
 

Don’t cast your stain on me. 

Loop that time I couldn’t wake up. 

I’m a fake. 

 

My passage was scribbled upon a toilet paper passport.

It’s all cliché, but that’s our fetish. 

 

A motorcade(missss…the hint is in the hiss) leading us to a 

mediocrity so sickened, and destined, and fooled.

 

I don’t think we can.
 

 

I don’t think we can invasion an aboding nest above this crest.
 

Demeter, were you here?

 

Where the hell is that reel? The replay they edited from the subconscious stash?
 

 

I will Howard Hughes through and within this collider until you reveal your sources! 

You existential pricks! Don’t you dare Tesla me!
 

 

Step to strike me - into a rage - from a pusillanimous page.
 

Posthumous and impolite.
 

 

Would you cast us that way?  And that will be our day, and your dues?
 

Spring me from cage to train. (tell me it has never been the same). 

 

 I’ve been swindled by a whisper of relief before - the sweet regret of implore. Your targeted adds are all the same. 

 

Dousing us in sin. 

Always out our my skin.
 

 

I always pay the price for what you swear to me is truth.
 

I cower from your cull of violence. 

 

Your trumpet falls flat. 

Why can’t we stop pledging to be the same? 

It conjures violence. 

Violence in ourselves we gladly project inward and onto you.
 

How come it all feels the same?
 

 

How come we don’t say the name?     

 

 

A ticket in my pocket.  I don’t know from where.
 

There’s an admission I don’t understand. Do I comply?
 

Where is forever, and what is that brand?

 

 

Shame swells to sport while we fidget, withering within regret.
 

Narrow trajectories have finally h(a)unted me.
 

 

Shouting through the screen.

The admission of this creature feature has never been steeper.
 

 

There’s always the sequel where the devil gives chase.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a 22 interlude

 

 

beloved, how I've missed ewe (& now I can say that I've suffered to be with you)

 

you, the brisk morning breeze; you the cold evening chill, & everything worth mentioning in between

 

there's no number that corresponds with how much I care about ewe, 22 unless it be infinity

 

& so I rilly wanted to take her with me, into the new golden dawn

 

& when we're like this, u don't have to say a thing

 

just to see ewe smile again in my mind's I is worth more than anything

..you're terrible, you gnow..? hee..so, you're perfect for me..I'm terrible two..I've @LLways been..

 

 

she was 7, 15 & 22 (thus, 11 of 11)

anarchy black & yet true blue; perfect (it's true)

..so how could I not fall in love with that, & how could I not seek justice against those who stood between us..?

you gnow me better than that, dear reader, don't ewe..? 

be you now here with me, 22, as I risk my life fighting for the future, for the children of this our beautyfull blossoming dawning new aeon,

 

& for ewe