BARBELITH
this churning gut smoking vein feeding into what and for whom...? And we are all left to contemplate the guillotine, that tool that acted as the hand of God to bring Low the High and raise the meek who were meek no longer...but is this the expression on which to hinge the future? All of these battles happen in secret and I cannot, I WILL NOT subscribe to mindless cruelty or the demand for blood...I will not dirty my hands with anger, though it is frustration that fuels me. What is "change"? I'm not sure if what I want can be classified by so vague a term. It is simply that I have been sleeping, and I desire consciousness, on all levels of meaning. Consciousness of that which can be experienced through the senses we are most often credited with, and consciousness of that which cannot. I will learn to make of my body a form which can transcend to light- I will be fluid and strange. I will make the Absurd my home and this ancient magic will be the Watchdog of the Plane (which plane? can I open my eyes in it? can it fly? we are joking here, telling dangerous jokes of physics and religion).
What is lust? I will be a Crusader of the Orgasm, but lust is unruly, sex without the self, and without the self we are like Them. But there is that power, drawn from hallucinogenic drugs and the moment when one's head snaps back and a veil shields perception (shields, or falls away?) and one's back arches, the small muscles proving that strength is not measured by how much is moved.
Perhaps this is what we are meant to learn: what the Guillotine teaches us about Lust. Where power draws its strength from yielding. YIELDING! Oh, this is a delicious humor, but there are few who can follow me here. There are secrets under our feet, old secrets, that laugh at us when we say ridiculous things like "feet". language, language, language! Not the ones we divide and use as a means to further misunderstanding. There are alphabets your tongues would shrivel against speaking. Alphabets with letters illuminated on walls that crumbled once, and over and over again in the Time Loop: Berlin, you warrior.
Anarchy. One of the funnier words in the english language (LANGUAGE!). In France the term for anarchy when literally translated means "to shit the bed". We want to ROLL in the proof that we are animal, whilst our souls vomit and shoot toward light. Do you have among you a being of pure energy? This is so far beyond simple Law. The police have no idea who they are, and there is not a one of us that furthers things on accident. I am sorry, crust punks, but it is not my cell phone that makes me a hypocrite. It is not my Japanese car or the institution that I study in. Those are simply the things that connect me to THIS sphere of reality. What makes me a hyocrite is the fact that I have never seen the inside of a sigil that glows without needing to glow. It is that I have never invoked Gods, ancient and new, of stone and fire and pop culture. I do not breathe in sacred ritual.
But the reason that I am not ashamed, the reason that I can type on this Mac computer without guilt is because UNLIKE those who think that anarchy is simply the abolition of government or church (how many times do you have to be told to look past the surface of things? it makes me sick, how obvious it is. it is not the government, it is that driving force that perscribes a NEED for something as ludicrous as government, and beneath that it is that guilty feeling of relief everytime that which goes up comes down) UNLIKE those who think that the biggest enemy of anarchy is the corporation:
One day, I will do those things, I will have seen what few can even imagine, I will breathe in sacred ritual. I am learning to see this way, to move like so, to be angled in such a direction. For now, it is all I can do. But that is just for now. People like me, well. We have plans, don't we my loves?
What is lust? I will be a Crusader of the Orgasm, but lust is unruly, sex without the self, and without the self we are like Them. But there is that power, drawn from hallucinogenic drugs and the moment when one's head snaps back and a veil shields perception (shields, or falls away?) and one's back arches, the small muscles proving that strength is not measured by how much is moved.
Perhaps this is what we are meant to learn: what the Guillotine teaches us about Lust. Where power draws its strength from yielding. YIELDING! Oh, this is a delicious humor, but there are few who can follow me here. There are secrets under our feet, old secrets, that laugh at us when we say ridiculous things like "feet". language, language, language! Not the ones we divide and use as a means to further misunderstanding. There are alphabets your tongues would shrivel against speaking. Alphabets with letters illuminated on walls that crumbled once, and over and over again in the Time Loop: Berlin, you warrior.
Anarchy. One of the funnier words in the english language (LANGUAGE!). In France the term for anarchy when literally translated means "to shit the bed". We want to ROLL in the proof that we are animal, whilst our souls vomit and shoot toward light. Do you have among you a being of pure energy? This is so far beyond simple Law. The police have no idea who they are, and there is not a one of us that furthers things on accident. I am sorry, crust punks, but it is not my cell phone that makes me a hypocrite. It is not my Japanese car or the institution that I study in. Those are simply the things that connect me to THIS sphere of reality. What makes me a hyocrite is the fact that I have never seen the inside of a sigil that glows without needing to glow. It is that I have never invoked Gods, ancient and new, of stone and fire and pop culture. I do not breathe in sacred ritual.
But the reason that I am not ashamed, the reason that I can type on this Mac computer without guilt is because UNLIKE those who think that anarchy is simply the abolition of government or church (how many times do you have to be told to look past the surface of things? it makes me sick, how obvious it is. it is not the government, it is that driving force that perscribes a NEED for something as ludicrous as government, and beneath that it is that guilty feeling of relief everytime that which goes up comes down) UNLIKE those who think that the biggest enemy of anarchy is the corporation:
One day, I will do those things, I will have seen what few can even imagine, I will breathe in sacred ritual. I am learning to see this way, to move like so, to be angled in such a direction. For now, it is all I can do. But that is just for now. People like me, well. We have plans, don't we my loves?