Till Death do us Art (or, 'the clowns will outlive us')

 

necromantic, unrepentant; on the con trary, I'm proud of it...

 

 

 

..so I practice a supposedly "dark" magic but all those megalithic corporations don't..? 

 

 

 

 

Must be a nice delusion to think so..

 

 

 

 

..but nothing to do with the truth, I'm sorry to say.. 

.. & anyway, that's really how people should live..without guilt

 

 

 

 

 

..& if that's something they're feeling, they should check themselves, their environment & their upbringing for possible causes & work on them thoroughly..

I don’t have any guilt - I have gilt.

Incensed,
 

barking nomads,
 

 

poisoned by the light.
 

 

 

 

Ain’t had no salvation like this before.
 

 

Wired to regret.
 

 

 

Plastic wrapped.
 

 

 

 

And (yet) you speak to me.

 

 

 

 

Lascivious.

 

Valorous.
 

 

 

Mendacious. Spawning. out of tone.

 

 

 

Your sigils scream to me.
 

 

 

 

Membrane tuxedo….(in) a thunderous pulse of abstraction. 

 

 

 

An inconceivable infinite bliss of striking at windmills.

 

 

Blood on the moon.
 

 

 

 

Our southern gal.
 

 

 

Will never forget the harm that you do.

 

 

 

 

The strobes seek the serotonin right(s) where It begs for hurt. 

 

 

 

 

 a ritual of you.
 

 

 

 

 

Right between the inerts.
 

 

 

 

Right.

 

 

Right.
 

 

March.
 

 

 

Left.
 

 

 

 

 

Blight.

Power comes & goes, & the further along on the Way one gets, the more of it comes & goes; but discipline persists..

The Haitian tonton macoutes ((a Haitian Creole phrase meaning 'bogeymen') were, unfortunately, associated with vudu..as, of course, is everyone in Haiti.. pretty sure they consciously adopted a very very dark, violent strain of it tho..stuff even the vudu secret societies wouldn't touch with a 10 foot pole..those strains effectively sell their souls, feeding their patron spirits pain energy in exchange for worldly success & wealth..a similar practice to some fringe cartel spiritists in Mexico, I'd con jecture..🧐 

 

The problem with such practices is that they are inherently self-destructive. One can see this play out historically, sure enough, but we could also reason it out logically..to benefit literally at the expense of others is flawed thinking & shoddy practice, & such practitioners can be said to simply take these ideas & methods to a certain extreme. A branch cannot thrive at the expense of the tree..

 

 

..indeed, everywhere & all around us today we see clear evidence that this is the case..

...

"..the crowd is the untruth.."

-  Søren Kierkegaard 

"...being social is the gates of hell because one often loses their sense of integrity getting cozy with the crowd"

- 22

Shades (thus named because he had decades ago dedicated his life to providing spots of shade where the seedlings & sproutings of a new aeon might grow & develop in the harsh glare of an old world order burning down) surveyed the scene with grim satisfaction..

 

 

..in a brief respite in the battle for nothing less than the future of the planet, of the very soul of the world, he took pause to think back to where this had all started, at least for him, & how it had evolved from there..

..when I was 16 I decided I'd be a writer cuz it was something I tend to be good at without really trying; guess that's what ppl call talent..so I studied philosophy, got into the occult & eventually was able to obtain a charter to organize an occult lodge..

 

..if only I knew then how much I'd change & evolve with all the challenges & initiations, as the world changed & evolved, to even make this shift into a whole new long-term paradigm possible..a shift that that is even now already in progress..

..& do you have the wisdom, courage, will & discipline necessary to join us to build together the foundations of a brand new aeon? 

..well then.. 'till death, do us art!

 Co-inside-ends: aphorisms on free will vs. predestination

other people’s accounts be to the dogs. as far as i am concerned i appear myself to myself to have free will - and isn’t that to the point that will is more or less constrained, and at least by desire. 

 

 

 

to discount free will is to give into a useless fatalism. 

 

 

can you direct your belief to ignore any self styled experts and instead focus on the experience of your own self? 

 

any lack of free will seems to me to be external coercion- i can walk into a wall if i want to, but i prefer to eat bacon. 

 

 

clap the talk, but i was just saying, supposing you have some modicum of will, to try making choices or endowing your actions with “non-sensical” or metaphorical / analogical meanings and see what happens. 

 

 

 

do it repeatedly and over time. in my experience it has seemed to really increase the synchronicity factor. 

 

 

remember: it’s all coincidence (co-inside-ents) - pronunciation matters.. 

 

 

 

 

 

..i guess i’m saying, "don’t do things haphazardly and see what happens"..

the whirling world of words

We already live in a virtual world; don’t fall for a digitalization.

 

If you want to know everything, you must assume you (g/k)now nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

..what falls shall rise again..

 

neck romantik (& reap intent)

 

 

 

 

 Y'all are playing the game simulation; I'm playing THE GAME. 

 

 

 

We are not the same.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 ..here we are, 

trying to piece together the remnants of a shattered dream..

 

 

 

 

 

success is also a death; it is the death of that within you which resists success

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .. treating people better than they deserve could actually harm them, is the esoteric interpretation, because it pushes the weight of their behaviour back on them..so one needs to be very careful & surgically subtle in applying that particular technique..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here we are, trying to piece together the remnants of this shattered dream. But it doesn't seem much like a dream, does it? Does it even seem like a story worth exploring?

 

 

We live in this body of death, the material logic of a skeleton foreboding our every possibility. The world is static, and we move - yet the more asleep we are, the more lifeless the (waking) world seems. Are you afraid to die in your sleep, in a dream? Is a fear of death really a fear of life, a fear to live by the mark of your heart?

 

 

As the days and years count by, how can we say that there is no inner logic to the flux of time, that it progresses uniformly and  smoothly, and not in fits and starts. Like the clearly false notion of space being isotropic, how can time be said to exist without attendant qualities. 

 

 

 

Here on earth every direction has an obviously different character and not just the vertical axis - in every direction we are met with different states of space in the form of objects. 

 

 

 

A path through a forest is a qualitatively different space than a highway through the desert. And, just as our space is not homogeneous all throughout our own lives give ample and overwhelming evidence of the fact that there is a qualitative time. 

 

 

 

The seasons of the year and of our lives are not colorless points on a line smoothly progressing forward into the future, they are beats to the song, the symphonic structure of reality where every moment cannot be reduced to a lone number or a  date but must be considered in its relation to the whole of the eternal progression. 

well you've got many talents; 

I've only got one .. but no one else has it.. 

 

 

 

 

..you must've upset the hierarchy somehow..& now you owe them..

..if the solution is worse than the problem, then the problem is the solution..

analogical hologram: a definition

the correspondence between phenomena based off shared qualities : like the lion and the sun based on their color, with the mane like a bundle of rays streaming forth, and the native habitats being ones of heat. but further that these analogies can be used to engineer phenomena themselves, with each containing some quality of the rest so that there is a link with the greater reality which one seeks to affect..

 

 

(see also the physiognomic relationship of animal likeness in a human form and the corresponding temperament being similar to that of the animal represented)

 

 

 

 

..I really like that idea, that organisms are by-products (maybe even excreta..? 😅..talk about talking out of your ass 🤔) of energies.. compares/con trast/ jibes/integrates real well with a parallel thesis I like a lot, namely that the ego is just a trick of the light & that con sciousness in itself is what's "really real"..in fact maybe they're ways of saying the same thing on different planes..🧐

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Breaking down – under – cover f - - ir – e

 

 

Darwinism  …run! Rampant.
 

 

All skulls are pressed. From the same light as the carbon.
 

 

TheRealities of the cycle-clidick (click) come screaming 

 

 

SCREAMING
 

 

Down
 

 

 

D o w  n  - down.
 

 

 

 

It stings, when they sing, to you...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's hard to keep the childhood spirit in the face of the adult world.. that's what Crowley meant when he said, 'these are dead, these fellows; they feel not'.. we're walking through a world where many are corpses walking, having lost any attunement to their own he/arts..

When it’s the Stones on the radio you better crank it up!
 

Because they won’t always be here for you.
 

 

But the trails and tribal(-) libations, 

 

oh brother, they are relentless.
 

 

 

And the only way we’ll be getting there baby, is through.

 

 

And this court holds no favor for you.

 

 

So come on now, and sing with me, 

 

because I’ll be here when it’s blue.

 

 

Are you unsettled?

 

 

Well, I’m with you.

 

 

We’re in the weeds.
 

 

 

 

And they have come for you..

King Con (synonymous with ignominy)

 

 

 

"are they a band or a gang" = we're your worst nightmare, & your only escape..from this world of waking dreamers, zombies, living(?) dead..

 

 

 

 

 

What on Urrth are we talking about here? 

 

Inspiration, respiration, expiration, exhalation climbing a spiral spire in the sky, sliding down until we die. 

 

 

Breathe in breathe out - magnetic flowing aerial force, building up mind and body but of course. 

 

Without a doubt when we shout, part of our soul flows out and about. 

 

Song called into being different realities and ways of being beating in the heart, pumping that magnet blood from foot to head. 

 

 

The elements are the psychological experiences of the form of sensual forces out in the "other". 

 

But being an imperfect mirror of the self, fire, water, earth, air are also potencies within the control of the "isolated" ego. 

 

 

Within our body and our control over it, we have, to various degrees, control over all the elements of reality. As above, so below, and all that jazz: micro/macrocosm, etc. - you should know the drill by now. 

 

You gotta feel it to believe it; seeing is so passé. And isn't that all what we mean the truth is in front of you as a feeling, a being, a seeming - a convergence to a point inside your mind's eye of all this sensory mumbo jumbo - and then a calling out from the depth, structure sounds in an acoustic space: you can't close your ears and even the grosser body of feeling senses sound. 

 

A searching spotlight illuminating the dark to whatever degree it can. 

 

 

More light!

 

 

 

 

there isn't enough life to go around (so grab some while you can)

the master isn't afraid to get their hands dirty; it's these flake-arses who worry about getting dirt under their fingernails that worry me, tbh

 (un)fortunately for you, we're the good guys

 

 

 

 

Jai Kali ma, ewe who kill to bring about new & ever better life 

Ye who destroy to create ever more diverse & developed forms 

Nature favours replacement over repair, & who am I to argue with that..

 

 

 

I be lie ve, @LLfather, I've seen your bliss, @LLfather, I be/long to you, @LL father

 

 

 

 

 

..the spirits dance around me, possess me, caress me; [censored] me....

Recriminations of what tired metaphor can I hawk to you?

 

 

When I knock. 

 

On your door. And further implore, 

that my rhymes aren’t still just another bore.

 

 

 

Could I sing of the serpent shedding skin among the fallen cherry blossoms?
 

 

 

A layered rehashing of the Per-sonix calamity us old plagiarizing mixologists 

 

pretend to enhance.
 

 

 

Chipping away, for another day, or two…a true...revelation (17:5) – aren’t we all?

 

 

Got yourself a new ball cap there chap?
 

Shave and a haircut? Hopeful days are here again?
 

 

I don’t mean to shit all over your ball game.. but I guess I do. 

 

 

See we’re an esoteric rag(tag) , and 

 

 

‘round these parts, sport, we don’t take to kindly to blossoms (like you) who can’t 

 

stew in the muck 

 

 

with the snakeskin, and the mirrors.

 

 

And it may impress upon you the stations of our birth, and promise that we will break through..

 Time acting weird.. i suggest: time / timing / rhythm. apropos for equinox issue?

& who among those writing today can expect to be read even a hundred years from now..? Maybe we should take that to heart, roll with it.. so many others seem to be doing just that & enjoying it; getting off on it, even..🤔 

..the initiates, the masters are of varying views on this, but most admit that con quering death is a real possibility.. having said that tho, some say there's no point to con quering death cuz you just end up stuck in rebirth upon rebirth, the Buddha equivalent of reality for us I guess 😂🤔.

 

.others say the cost of conquering death is too high, like you need to be prepared to sacrifice even your nearest & dearest, either actively or passively (which makes sense - inevitably you'd outlive them anywho)..

 

.. still others are of the view that if you save enough energy; accumulate enough power even death will be powerless to stop you.. I personally prefer the last of those but for the record I do be lie ve it's possible to overcome death, just as one can overcome anything else I guess..🤔🤨

.. it's been going around, a certain pessimism about the mundane world..& there's certainly more than enough reasons to justify it I think..but it's a mood, & like all moods it cums & goes..if you will 🤨

the hollow..the emptiness the no thing..

...to elaborate on this, Crowley says the master can't "die", even if they try..all I can say about that is, I've tried it more than once &, well..ahem ..

..Castaneda puts it in a somewhat different way, but to more or less the same effect..he says the master to prove to themselves that they're a master jumps off a cliff, the test being that they'll assemble a new world before they fall to their death..so, who here hasn't metaphorically done that..? cuz my guess is everyone has ..

 

"..my butt hurts from all this discussion.."

 

- 22

zzzxxxxxzzxxxxxzzzzzzzzxxxxxzzzzzxxxxxzzzzzzxxxxzzzzzzxxxxxzzzzzzxxxxxzzzzzzxxxxxxzzzzzzzxxxxxxzzzxzxzxzxzxzxzxzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

$teal thi$ Legba Lodge

 

 

 

..this is the beginning of the beginning...........@LL together now...........frAum the beginning,

 

 

 

 
“A considerable percentage of the people we meet on the street are people who are empty inside, that is, they are actually already dead. It is fortunate for us that we do not see and do not know it. If we knew what a number of people are actually dead and what a number of these dead people govern our lives, we should go mad with horror.”
 

– G.I. Gurdjieff

 

 

 

 

Money, it's a gas - grab a stack with both hands and make a stash. 

 

 

Hrmm... money... that idol of man that goes under many different guises, yet which always constrains and controls him and marks his path. What can it be but the external representation of human energy itself. 

 

 

Though it may be exchanged for goods, those goods ultimately always boil down into some act of man - if only picking up off the street a penny, or a flea. They who control the money supply control that path of man by laying down the roads they must follow in order to survive, and possibly thrive if they may.

 

Don't dare think you are outside the economic dictates of the financial masters of the universe, that bit or coin, bill or note, is a lien on your life energy as much as it is on those around you. The massive role of peons and functionaries is beholden to the hypnotic spell of what they can buy with their allotment of cash, or even more imaginary credits if needs be. And they, we, will never have control over our destiny if we cannot control our own collective energy in its external representation. 

 

 

Who does the dollar serve? The community at large or the legal-financial pirate crew sworn to those who issue the currency? It must be both to some degree. The anonymous obscurity, at least for some actors, of the world's financial system enables untold ills. As things are, if the upper echelon of the hierarchy wishes, it can and does generate unlimited fictitious units of account to gift to its devotees. 

 

 

 

And these numbers have the real power to greatly affect reality - all because people make an unspoken agreement to treat these numbers as if they had value, and for that they do. It is the biggest con of them all: your life and its energy is a numerical entry on a page, made up by some random person, probably, actually must be, a bastard, sitting behind a desk somewhere.  

 

 

 

If all transactions and accounts were transparent, traceable and visible, then the people would again have control over their collective energy, as they would be able to see it flow, and with those flows what is done or accomplished: their effects in the real world of people and things that can poke you. 

 

 

The mirage of anonymity provided to the masses is no blanket of security and only further enables those who wish to do others harm. If we all could see where all the money is, and who or what it is moving between, we could collectively blacklist those entities and douche-bags who are making the world a shittier place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

..the truth about LL? you can't handle it..or maybe there's nothing to tell..it started with a black magician walking into a black magick group, from which he recruited the best, the most promising; but it turned out they weren't @LL that..so he was initiated into the most progressive order in existence (to his gnowledge), & proceeded to push the borderlines of esoteric research beyond anything currently in existence..but to achieve this he would need allies, friends, & an audience with whom to collaborate..

 

 

 

 

 

Invisible words on a fresh page.
 

Wings in my head, anchors for my heart.
 

The tone and muck are on me.

 

Is that any way to start a prayer?
 

Hey, player?
 

Is that really what you want from me?  

 

The page is here.  

 

Walking into the woods.  

 

Am I looking for, or running away from you?

 

No need for a Sheriff to come strolling round this cliff.
 

Slam myself in the county lock.
 

Cuz lord, I’m a bad man that can’t let things be.

 

Deposit. Refraction. Treble.
 

 

Rubble. Distinguish. Tone.

 

 

 

Where is the traffic now?

 

 

 

 

.. detach yourself from your feelings.. 

 

they're just reactions anywho

 

..stay with who you really are..

 

who you really are..

 

who. 

you. 

really. 

are.................

 

 

Fire is what, the soul..? 

Yea, that's kinda the sense I'm going for

..the observer

 

.. what's observed is just that, a show

..but most ppl err on the side of taking that too literally or mistaking it for something it wasn't supposed to mean..

..it's like do what you wilt, etc

 

 

..the paradox is that those who gnow what they wilt don't need to be told to do it..

 

 

 

 

We're like, the same reflection in different dimensions 

 

 

 

Nike and Minerva - both bound beneath the crypts of the cross.



Why can’t you see anymore? 

 

Why don’t oaths come to rise anymore?
 

 

I don’t care anymore.
 

 

I’m not fair anymore.
 

 

 

 

Your god sickness isn’t worth the chore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

..& there's one Shades today but tomorrow there'll be a hundred & the day after a thousand.. yea, we reproduce exponentially, mofo..& we're cumming for you & your outmoded values..

Wisdom says, "you just can't win. No matter what you do, trust me on this, you die at the end.."

 

 

..those other schmucks quote what their teachers say; recite from lists, mimic & ape...but we innovate, create & push the boundaries of the "tradition" in spite of them, & against the grain..we're not the same (& we never will be)..

 

 

 

Don’t you lose sight of what they steal
 

 

And where you stand.

 

 

Is the grip on your cock or around your throat? 

 

 

And what difference would that actually make?
 

 

 

And when I spin out and skip town, what you going to say to me? 

 

 

 

How you gunna grind me again?
 

 

 

 

 

When were you going to lie to me about this …again?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"..there are no mfing coincidences" 

- shades
 

 

 

"The occult is so hot rn"

-22


 

"[s]he's beginning to be lie ve"

 -morpheus

 

 

 

Steal this legba lodge

 

1 - yea, we're franchising, so listen up. You don't need a roomful of ppl; just a few..what do you be lie ve in, what's your truth? ..where the f's your gnosis..& do you reaLLy think that anything matters more..? really..?..reaLLy..

 

 

2 - so why are you sitting there for, looking at this screen..stand up for it, write about it, make art to express it..do something ..anything ..meditate on it, fuck..we need you now more than we ever have..

 

 

3 -it's literally that easy..how do you think we got here..?

 

 

 

[exeunt omnes]

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

irre(l/v)e(v/r)(a/e)nce (or, "I can't think of anything more tedious than success")

 

 

(being a publication of the we were never (w)here order in class b.s, or f it.. even we're not sure which..)

 

 

 

 

 

"..there are certain people who will sneer at what I have to say but they do not matter. In fact, they do not really exist..."

 

- Michael Bertiaux, Voudon Gnostic Workbook 

..only the masters gnow the ways of the masters..& no one else can; for it's not for them..

 ..she said 'trajectory'! ..say, this should be a drinking game..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 You said we are all made of clay in that mythical way

Lounging.

0ff the rails.
 

Spawned and wronged. 

1doling over an ordained axiom to conduct and kickstart our caboose.

 0ur current: state:

Any wing you choose will always be the mistake.
 

 

Your balls destined (2b) head deep in dessert.
 

Chronicled in the glory of shit.
 

 

Salutations!
 

Resignations. Rock n roll.

Blitzing out on German bop.
 

You ain’t never heard it pop!
 

 

 
Give us a kiss in the starfish of the abyss.

A revolution in my head never gunna stop.

 
A little death tonight, what’s a body count on the dance floor.
 

h0ur impulse far from shore.

 

Bow to the revolts. Say on the horn, we don’t abide by corn. 

 

Children of the run, no longer will 

live by the gun.   

Granular indignation. 

Quicker than life itself.

 
Hammering at the sun.

 
Mjolnir mirror. 

Blade blazed in the ink
of satan’s dink.

Your slaughter in the fjord,
to end my lord.

Ain’t going to change.

 

 

BREAKING! (nothing)

Reinforcing the iron uncertain.

Frosted with a moneyshot of lemmings.

 

Fattened on the chew.

I don’t mean to say, that I hate you.

But you’re a liar of a saint,

 

Rotting in royal taint, Mr. Grinch.
 

Just fading paint. 

The echo of a lover, down an alley, without a cigarette.
 

 

Just another step in the wrong shadow.

As you struggle 

to the surface
 

 

Clap from above, gulp from below.
 

No such thing as plunge, there is only you.
 

Ego crashing into awareness.
 

Graffiti on the hull of soul.

 

Rings of son
 

Always in cahoots with the boss’s boots
 

 

Up the ass.
 

forever in smoke.
 

Regret that we ever spoke.  
 

 

And the plump bifocal visions cemented in flight.
 

Towards.
 

Towards!
 

 

The future. The idea.
 

The dream oh the flight. Towards the light!
 

Seagulls choking on Cosmic Debris.
 

 

Con/f/9‘s cast upon you and me.
 

 

 

Existentially.  
 

 

Raisined relationships of rationed reason. 

 

Bitter tasting prison is the season.
 

 

A funky old stink you been stacking on the tooth of ego.
 

 

Isn’t it so sweet that oh baby that there ain’t no truth.

You crazy cats, with your banquets of rats.
 

 

Skiing in the pokonos, 

with your fancy hats,
 

 

the Sons of Cronos
 

Selling your Jesus to me.

 

 

Dry as a feather
 

Falling from a tree

Through the motions of a clown you whisper,
 

 

 

We are the flicker in the sea..

 

 

 

 

 

..& so we've come back around to the twin pillars at the end of the world, where everything began; Jupiter & Saturn..tohu & bohu, jakin & boaz..

 

 

 

..as is the norm & as per the uje, these poor new age fools have it wrong (..& are you surprised? really..)..or rather they only know the half of it (at best)..

 

..it's not really that seeing 11's, or 11:11, or 22, or some other "angel number" (whatev the f that's meant to mean) is auspicious..

 

..rather, when you see these numbers, you're in what I like to call "11 time"..it's a whole other flow within reality, like an energetic current of power, that you're moving through or that's moving through you (in fact both ideas only convey a part of the truth, so let's use both to balance it out)

 

 

..& as for it being auspicious, well..as are all the blessings from the spirits, whether it's for benefit or detriment is up to you..the point is that this is beside the point..use the energy while it's been made available, is what's important to note..

 

 

 ..& "esoterical murder"..do you think those suckers fell for it (or perhaps more to the point, do you think they'll fall for this feint here in which I half-heartedly attempt to deny it!? 🤔🤨).."these are dead, these fellows; they feel not"..I simply & helpfully demonstrated this fact to them..in the end, let's say, they came to see things my way...🧐..that they were dangerous degenerates who wanted me dead, who were destroying their own future with their hands might or might not also have factored in there somewhere I guess..

 

 

 ..or do u think these aforementioned alien experiments have something to do with the rona apocalypse!? 😳🤯.. here's a con spiracy theory for you (& I think we really should publish this): what if the new age is resulting in new generations of X-Men style mutants (as indeed was clearly hinted in a previous issue of this very publication 🧐) & this previously nonexistent Corona virus is one of the detectable effects of their powers 🙀🙀🙀

 

 

..so, then, you fear death, is it..? ..then I've @LLready one...I @LLways win, you see..cuz I don't..fear death, that is..see, me & death are friends..& neither my friends betray me, nor me them; forev & whatev, amen..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Time recurs, returns, replaces what it makes. We work with time like the tailor with their fold of cloth, stitching together moments in memory; creating loops in the fabric of rhyme. The wheel turns and while spinning threads of thought we can draw out silver, or we can draw out gold, or we can draw out on our tracing board in dark, chaotic and confused terror, nightmares weft of the painful shadows of the past. While walking on, we flicker back in glimpses to our history, reinforcing stories of ourselves in one way or which another - strong, triumphant or failing, down. 

 

 

 

The problem which is, however, while we are in the business of isness, that the strongest marks on our cortices are often those same grey spirals which we must struggle to erase. They are those things that went wrong, those things that stand out in their stark differentiation from the usual flux - the bizarre can truly be hypnotic.

 

When, if ever, you stop to think on thought itself and from whence that movement takes its course, you may just find your self an island fish inside a river which at best you can but a bit direct. To latch on and say: “these thoughts are mine”, makes you party to any perverted vagary that makes your way. The seeds you take and plant, will grow in you to scenes at least as real as any dream; but, who the sower is, take care and not what seems, the spirits in the wind may try to make it be that your are them and not your being. 

 

 

 

We are not atoms, all alone - all powerful in standing unswayed by the things that make our way, and passing by suggest a path that we could take. By choosing to say: “all these thoughts I hear inside my mind, are not all mine”, we can start to cultivate our inner self and cut the weeds to the wind. If the thoughts are not ours, they must have come from some where else, and why? For something to be, something else must not - in the business of isness, what is, is made of what isn’t.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"one has not lived who has not seen the hand that kills itself..con siderately"

 - shades

..hello; my name is shades (thus named because I much prefer exploring the dark to visualizing a bright blaze)..& I'm not interested in being a member of any club that would have me to begin with..

 

 

..& here is perhaps where my writing is at its most poignantly autobiographical..you see, I can't think of anything more tedious than success..

 

 

..story of my life, actually..once I've succeeded at something, once I've attained the long-sought & hard-fought objective, it doesn't take long for me to real lies the vanity of it..

 

..it's the re:petition that gets me; the tedium of doing the same thing over & over again..isn't life too short for that kind of shit..? 

 

 

..I'm bored just thinking about it..

..in point of fact the only field in which I have felt I was really granted success was the esoteric, and this because I started on this path very young, and in that innocence came upon an aetheric or astral thread which, even by then I gnew, would lead me to occult success merely by following or tracing it, & @LLmost in spite of myself..

 

 

..& so, once again, I find myself alone, with my pen & my sword.. solitary archetypal warrior-poet(-philosopher) roaming the somber, desolate wasteland between the end of the old world & a dawning new age..

..& no I'm not done yet, actually..I haven't even begun yet.. actually, 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"whoever is the last one standing is the one who succeeds"

-from the anime Great Pretender

 

 

 

 

 

of fraternity & baca bacashi (as the Japanese might say)

 

 

.. we've spoken of the we were never (w)here order, but what is that, exactly..? Is it an evolution, an attempt to update the venerable A:.A:..? Is it an informal designation to refer to any and all those seeking to further the Great Work in a more or less explicit way..?  

Perhaps it is both of these and more besides, but arguably more important than who is what: what is its objective, & when can we say that it has attained success..? ..& at least potentially more pertinent than that & this: what is success to begin with? Hmm....?

 

..& I heard the sound of bells or a strange drum rhythm, & then I was there, with my spirit friends..

 

..a thing about our text, it shimmers a bit, & the next thing you gnow you can't tell if it's reading you or if you're reading it..

 

..we just win, man; it justifies itself..

..any idiot can succeed..the whole chaLLenge is to attain to success doing the right thing in the right way..

 

..you have to embrace your so-called 'destiny'..one thing I've learned. do what thou wilted or wilting or will wilt shall be the hole in wall? 

 

 

..or some such non sense in any case..in other words escaping your own success is a waste of thyme, & this more than likely in addition to other things besides..

..success is also a kind of failure. once you've succeeded, where is there to go from there? that's the problem with success, you see; it destroys just as surely as if you'd failed..

 

..no need to look far for an example, a case in point of you will; just look at us. After successfully foreseeing the end of an old world order & the beginning of a brand new Age of Aquarius, and con vincing hundreds (arguably we slightly exaggerate 🤔) that this is what's happening, we've degenerated to the level you see hear today ..🤨

 

 

..& then, you who so highly value success, do you even gnow what success really is..? Success is taking something from someone else & con vincing them it's for the best. An ugly business, & why the successful are generally such terrible people..we told you reality itself was a con..or did you think we were somehow speaking figuratively.. 🧐

 

 

 

 

 

The lost art/science/knowledge of the ancient civilizations, Atlantis etc is easy to identify but difficult to describe for us today, living as we do in a world of matter; hypnotized by our own technical achievements.. eternal souls trapped in a mockery of a world of objects, many of our own creation..quite simply, it is energetics..

 

 

 

 

..what everyone's afraid of is sincerity; honesty..the truth, actu@LLy..that's why we dis guise it so diligently....