POO

It crossed my mind the other day, while I was perched on the
throne, that there is a lot of excess poo taking place in the
world. I am taking it upon myself to reveal to you what I feel
are some of the major forms of poo on the face of the planet.

Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, and Pride, whoever
said these are bad is full of Poo! Like it or not, these are
some of the most motivational urges known to mankind. We go to
work and make more money than it takes to survive (greed) to
eat things that I enjoy plus dessert (gluttony). I enjoy doing
my work to the fullest of my abilities (pride) and Lard forbid
I see someone with something that I would like to have (envy)
and go out and buy it. I hate people who seek to control
others (wrath) and relax one day of the week and do absolutely
nothing (sloth). "Original Sin" is my favorite! They try to
take the one thing that keeps the human race alive, and make
it "evil". I don't know about you but I am glad my father had
a sexual interest in my mother (lust). Those who would try to
enslave someone else would say that the things which come
natural to the human animal are bad or evil. I'm not buying
that bucket full of Poo!

Now we move on to a type of person that deserves an honorable
mention in an essay on Poo, these are the High and Mighty. You
know the type I am referring to, they are the reason God's
green earth exists. A bad day for them is survived only by
slandering others from dusk till dawn! On a good day these
self aggrandized pukes can't seem to get enough of stroking
themselves with one obsessive thought, "If you got it and you
know it Toot your own horn!" I'm sorry to bust your bubble,
but if you were all that and a bag of chips then everyone else
would be tooting your horn for you.

Moving on to the worst type of Poo known to mankind, it's the
self destructive Poo that we put ourselves through day in and
day out and refuse to admit or change. Here is a list of
situations that can be included: Abusive relationships, drug
and alcohol abuse, continuing a vocation that is too stressful
for your personality type, etc. Need I say anything more?
I hope not.

Here I sit all broken hearted and wipe up another smear
session. Once you sift through my poo you will see that there
are three types of poo floating in this bowl of an essay.
There is poo that has been passed down through the ages that
we are suppose to take as gospel truth and never question,
other people's poo, and your own poo. A word from the wise,
don't submit yourself to any more POO than you have to!

Cops are right.

"The police always harass us". This is a quote that speaks volumes. First, it identifies the person saying it as a criminal. Second, the person who would utter such a phrase is a weak individual and content in being a victim (slave). Third, the person who says this is stupid. Here is one of the many reasons why: By saying something like this, the person establishes himself as a bona fide criminal and by speaking like this he is further incriminating himself. Stay clear of someone who says the above quote. It is not good to associate yourself with stupid people.

Let us now look at a couple of real life examples of who the police always 'harass':

You see them everywhere. Usually it is teenagers (however, some people never go beyond this). Although it is scary, these people become adults. They wear pot leaves on their t-shirts, have pot leaf air fresheners, or have 4:20 bumper stickers. The fact is they are admitting they are breaking the law. Either that or they are just stupid posers. No less, the illogic is, "Weed should be legal man. It is going to happen any day. I'm fighting the good fight by wearing this". News flash: The marijuana legalization movement has been going on for many years. The reason for the most part it has been unsuccessful is because of these very types advertising their stupidity. There are above the board legalization movements. It is fine and good to work with them if this is something you believe in. However, you must always question: Are you a master or a slave? In other words look at the situation pragmatically. Do you like jail? Are you fine with being a martyr? The last one is important. The martyr is a slave who is being controlled by someone else. While you may feel strong that marijuana should be legal, the fact is that it is currently illegal in this country. Advertising that you do it almost assures you a ticket to jail. The police are not harassing you. They are doing their job. You are making it easier for them to bust you. You are stupid.

Second on our list are gang bangers. I don't know how else to say it: The color is the dead giveaway. I am not talking about skin color here. Gang bangers proudly sport their gang colors where ever they hang out. First, this is stupid on it's face value. It instantly tells the other gang to shoot your sorry ass and gets you a free trip to the morgue. Chances are you won't have a pleasant looking corpse. Next, the police are well aware of gang colors and hand signs. The fact is that your thumper bunny car rattles every window in sight (usually playing music that advocates criminal behaviors and lifestyles) announces your arrival. How idiotic. Gang bangers always whine about police harassment. Again, the fact that you are advertising that you are a criminal is what gets you busted. Gang bangers claim to hate cops. Yet by action they assist the police. This is not even a good criminal. The good ones don't get caught. Al Capone would roll over in his grave. Once I saw a picture of gang bangers. They were all behind bars throwing up their gang signs. I thought: 'How intelligent. A bunch of grown men who can make shapes with their fingers. They must have put on a really bad wall light show to wind up in jail.' What stupidity.

In the old days police had to get out the rubber hose to get people to fess up. These days outside of attire, criminals readily brag about their illegal activity to anyone who will lend an ear. There is no thought to who might be listening. Then, when they are busted they scratch their heads and wonder how they were found out.

If you are a criminal who likes jail time, fine and good. However, don't bring it to my door step. Don't expect sympathy from me. How dare you expect me to believe that police harass you! I am not a rube. You made your bed, now lie in it. As the old saying goes: 'Responsibility to the responsible.'

YouTube and the armchair animal behaviorist.

Now that my internet odysseys of fantasy artwork and crockpot recipes are over, I am now an armchair animal behaviorist. I know all. Once I saw a video featuring live dolphins doing mean things to each other. I thought this was interesting and kind of funny. We can all be animal behaviorists if we like.

We say dolphins are great, they're smart, they have feelings, emotions. We say that our pets will pack.

We find that when let or turned loose, or allowed general freedom, a small population of dogs will behave as a pack. But then we find that cats won't, they'll pair off. Two, and you have best friends. Three, you probably have an odd man out. Four and you have two sets of best friends, and so on.

This lengthy essay is about some observations of mine of humankind's compulsion to assign certain qualities to non-human animals and our shock at the consequences of learning something new. I know the post is long, but those of you who bear with me might find it entertaining if nothing else. It's tongue-in-cheek a little too, because what if we traded which human traits we assign to animals? For many, not knowing something is better than knowing, because once you know something, you can't un-know it. And if you suddenly know something, and it turns out to be uncomfortable, you flail around trying to make sense of it.

As death machines, the great white shark and the killer whale have a lot in common. Dominant, big sharp teeth, fast and agile, sharply-honed killing skills.

The great white shark kills and eats when it's hungry, puts itself on auto-pilot when it's tired, and lives a simple life. It gets curious sometimes, though. When what it sees is out of the ordinary, it will usually check it out, and sometimes bite it. Knowledge of this is not new.

Babies and small kids do that - if you want to know something more about something, taste it. If it's iggy, spit it out. If it's good, take another bite.

"Jaws" will tell you the great white may seek revenge, as it may find it personally offensive that a human would kill its offspring.

I watched a video documenting a pride of lions and its relationship to a herd of water buffalo. The herd found the little hideout of the pride, took the pride by surprise and stomped all the lion cubs to death. As soon as the cubs were dead, the herd left. The video of the prior incident put it into perspective. Battle at Kruger, in which the lionesses tried to take down a baby buffalo near the river's edge when the herd stepped in. It took several tries, but eventually the herd saved the baby. Rather than end the confrontation as soon as the baby was saved, a few of the herd would chase each of the lionesses away. I don't know if there was a long-standing feud between this herd and that pride, but maybe "Jaws" wasn't too far off the mark.

Survival. The herd "instinctively" knows that with all the cubs dead, that's fewer future lions to contend with, and making fresh cubs will keep the pride busy. For all a while, they'll be going after easier prey. Send those bitches back with a note, "Buffalo Not Easy." Make the lesson last. That was striking at the heart of the pride. There's a lot of logic and reason in that.

Another video showed five or six lionesses and one water buffalo, which put up a tremendous fight, to its death. It gored one of the lionesses. She died later.

Maybe there's more to the hunt of the water buffalo. Maybe the girls are beating their chests. Half a dozen of them to take him down, were they are proving their womanhood? Or proving a point to the lions? Was it watch-us lessons day for the cubs?
Maybe buffalo meat is tastier. After all, those two gazelles over there could have been easy pickings. As a beef eater, faced with a pound of hamburger and a K.C. Strip, that Strip is mine, I own that Strip. I took it down, made it say ouch and then shit it out. I can show a Strip who's boss. Most times you have to dress up just-plain-hamburger. Form it into a shape. Break it up and put it in something else. Pour something on it.

The Strip is different. Throw it on the grill until it stops crying and then tear it apart. But it's not an all-the-time thing, sometimes I can't afford it.

Money is my "getting gored" or "having my babies stomped." Hamburger is my gazelles.

We have much easier lives than they.

They're more like us than people want to admit.

People want to believe animals do everything by instinct.
When we want to fuck, it's wrong. When animals want to fuck, they're trying to make babies.

Even though there's animals that will fuck just from pure boredom.

Instinct would lead an animal to protect its young, for survival, the line must continue, yada, yada.

Isn't that why humans protect their young? We love them, but an act of violence against those who would hurt our young is as much selfish as selfless. Isn't it?

We want to save the animals, so we take them out of the admittedly shitty environment of hunger, weather and disease, and put them in safe little places designed to mimic (mock?) their natural environment, and act surprised when we finally get to see them do something that an animal does. Like, I don't know, bite a dude. Or fuck another male goat in the ass. Or eat its own baby. Or eat another animal's baby. Let's cage them up, but let's wig out when they do something so evil as to be an animal.

Back to the great white shark, and thank you, those of you bearing with me. Linguascelesta. Evil Eve. Virus9. We know more about the animals we are able to observe than the ones we aren't. We know a lot about dolphins, dolphin knowledge is commonplace, but we guess on the giant squid. We guess on all that freaky shit on the bottom of the ocean near Antartica.

Look how awed and mesmerized people seem when confronted with video of the ocean floor at temperatures humans can't even comprehend, much less survive. Yes, it is neat to see, but dang. Mesmerized, like they couldn't figure something could live like that. Well, duh. Life can't be stopped, it can't be stayed, it can't be caged up. And once it's there, it protects its young. Or eats it.

I like the easy life. I don't have to eat my kid sometimes.

We appreciate them when they're being cute. A beluga whale making "boo" faces at a crowd at the aquarium gets coos and applause.

But if you're a male mountain goat, and you fuck another male mountain goat in the ass, you're just labeled gay.

Gay animals. It's another symptom of society's obsession with other people's sex. You think he's gay? Didn't you think he acted gay? Are they gay? It's gotten compulsive, the way that question is asked, right up front. Almost immediately they say, not that it matters. But... it did matter, you asked the question, didn't you? If it didn't matter, you wouldn't have asked.

And now it matters if animals are gay.

They ate their own babies.

They stomped someone else's babies.

They got drunk from fermenting rotting fruit on the ground - for real LET the fruit drop to the ground without even trying to get it while it's fresh, let it rot on the ground and then partied. Deliberately. So they could get fucked up. How's that for a lesson learned? What a surprise! They did something like what we would do, like pick mushrooms out of cowshit and party.

It's okay if a leopard kills and eats a monkey, then adopts the monkey's baby, and tries to take care of it until it dies because it's still on the teat. How sweet she did that. It's all well and good when a couple of gorilla babies make up a game. How cute, they're playing.

In the case of hippos licking and nibbling on the backs of large crocodiles, and the crocodiles paying no attention, oh, it's some instinct thing. Must be something the crocodile's skin ooozes that the hippos need physically, or maybe the hippo is licking off mites that bother the crocodile.

But when a couple of college kids antagonize a tiger until it gets out of its enclosure and shreds one of them to death, there's a big huge argument about who fucked up. Why do we even need to keep them anymore? I was able to see videos of this shit because cameras are everywhere, even in vastness of middle Africa. We can watch the migrations, and what animals do in their natural environment is a whole lot more interesting than what they do in a cage. We don't just give them limits physically, but we give them limits in our own heads.

They just can't do anything, unless we think they can.

Why is anybody surprised anymore at what an animal will do?
It's us that doesn't want to admit we are more like them, not they more like us. It's that "baser" stuff people don't want to "admit" to having or wanting. Nobody in the wild tells a mountain goat it's not okay to fuck another male mountain goat in the ass. We say what those two mountain goats just did was a dominance thing. Showing it who's boss. Oh, uh, it's a bonding thing.

Whatever. We don't know why the goats did it, and what drives us crazy is that we already know the goats didn't even put as much thought into as we did. Eew, we're perverted. We're so uncomfortable with it that we have to take all the fun out of it in order to understand it. We either call it gay or call it instinct.

It's possible that tuna might be nicer than dolphins. Maybe tunas don't gang up on each other, or jump out of the water to try to fuck a person, or kill a baby whale for fun. We wouldn't know, because we eat tuna, and the less we know about them, the better. The more we know it, the more we don't want to eat it. And dammit, they won't do tricks.

We will eat the shit out of broccoli, but if its got a funny shape and comes from a foreign country, we're scared of it.
If it tastes like cow, looks like cow, acts like cow, we eat it, but if that cow's actually a Boer goat, we saw "eew." Well, what do you expect? Cows aren't cute.

And now back to the great white shark. It depends only on itself. The killing machine of the ocean, immense and single-minded as it appears. Technology brings us more about the killer whale. It sure acts dolphin-ish when it's at Seaworld, so we want to coo at it. We've never wanted to coo at the great white shark. It won't ever perform tricks for us. The killer whale, like Shoeless Joe, plays for food money.

Slowly but surely, killer whales are moving into territory owned by the great white, and they are staying...colonizing. Maybe the great white is too single-minded to care much?

And I learned about C-A2, the 25-year-old killer whale with a taste for the liver of the great white. Not necessarily the whole great white, but just the liver. Oh, we don't want to think about that though, because they're so much like dolphins, and that sort of thing is too much like killing an elephant for its tusks, and leaving it to rot. Freaky story, and one I thought was pretty darn neat! That, to me, is a neat thing to know. Stir all that up with - yes - another video I saw. The killer whale eats on seals, snatches them up, takes them out into the ocean and plays with them, it's sick to watch. But one time, it brought a poor seal back to shore and dumped it, live, and then left.

To me that didn't say the whale felt sorry for it. Hey, I can assign any human trait I want, right? I don't think killer whales have sympathy like that. Showing its dominance perhaps. That's what "instinct" would tell us. But just having a good time? I thought, wow that was kinda psycho. That was kinda...fucked up. It was mean and horrifying. It was darn fucking neat!

So I decided, armchair animal behaviorist that I am, that the difference between the killer whale and the great white shark, killing machines that they are, is a sense of humor. The great white has no sense of humor. The killer whale has a sense of humor, in the sense I can define and assign.

I also decided, that in the case of hippos licking and nibbling on the backs of large crocodiles, maybe they're each more human than we know. Maybe it's not instinct at all. The hippo believes it's so big and bad it can chew or lick your back whenever it wants, just because it can and it wants to. The crocodile...well, let's face it, what's it gonna do? What can it do? The hippo is as big and bad as it is. I can't do anything about it, and I'm not going to walk away or let anyone see me walking away. So I'll just let you, and pretend it's okay, by the way fuck you, that's a shitty position to put me in.

Or it's just used to picking its battles carefully. Or it just doesn't mind.

Why does it have to be all serious instinct, all the time? By limiting our imagination, we limit what we can learn, and fool ourselves into believing we're superior. Why can't the cute friendly whale menace and stalk the giant squid? Why can't baboons hang out with gazelles one day and eat one the next day?

I like YouTube. I saw a dude put his whole arm up an elephant's butt, and flail around in there. Another dude had a cone-thing. They were, for real, gathering semen from this animal. Well, we need to learn more about them, don't we? Just fuck one and it's called bestiality. Cover yourself in plastic first and it's called biology.

Survival is closer to the mark of why animals do the shit they do. Sometimes survival requires that which we have simply not recorded on video.

I decided the great white sharks are moving away from their territory on the west coast in the face of the killer whales, not out of fear, or inferiority, but because killer whales are assholes, and, like I said, great whites have no sense of humor. That's why Africans don't tame and ride the zebra. It's just not worth the trouble, because zebras are dicks, obnoxious dicks. I saw it on video.

Heh. Or maybe the great whites are gay...not that it matters.

Pit Bulls.

I am incensed. Once again, I am privy to information concerning a pit bull that was euthanized because of repeated incidents of biting humans. As usual, the real culprit was his owner. The crime was abuse and neglect; but it was the dog that paid the price.

Again and again, pit bulls, and other breeds, are demonized due to the lack of responsibility of pet owners. Incidents range from nuisance calls because of barking dogs, to front-page news about scum…I mean “celebrities” who are involved in the illegal “sport” of dog fighting. As per usual, the legislative answer is to control, ban or outlaw the instrument of human ignorance rather than address the real issue…lack of responsibility on the part of the pet owner, or pseudo-enthusiast.

Every time a human commits to cohabitate with a non-human animal, there will be concessions that will need to be made. All too often, the only consideration is the whim, fad or impulse of the human…more often than not a juvenile. But compromises must be made in any inter-species relationship. If the pet is a fish, the owner must think like a fish, and insure the proper type of water and food. Owning a snake, I insist that anyone who handles him wash his or her hands to protect against the possibility of salmonella.

Dogs have very complex needs. In some ways, they are tailor made to be companions for humans. Dogs are social animals. They follow a natural stratification based on size and leadership ability. Dogs seek approval and affection.

What many people do not realize is that dogs MUST have a job. They evolved by being part of a team. As team players, each dog must have a well-defined purpose within the pack. A human dog owner is a member of its dog’s pack. If the owner does not train the dog to do its task, the dog is forced to define his or her role independently.

Dogs have complex emotions. A dog CANNOT thrive when spending many hours alone. This includes being chained up in the back yard. A lonely dog is a neurotic dog; and, behavioral problems are guaranteed.

Pit bulls make excellent pets for households with children. A healthy pit bull is friendly, gentle and sweet natured. They also have physiological and psychological characteristics that were bred into them to perform specific tasks. They have worked as animal control officers, keeping in check the rodent population on farms; and, as the name implies, they have been used to control bulls during handling. That is why pit bulls have strong jaw muscles (pit jaws do NOT lock); and, the ability to perform a task to completion, in the presence of pain. It is these characteristics that also make a pit bull a hazard if mistreated.

ANY breed of dog can become dangerous if treated inhumanely. There is nothing specific to the breed that makes them any more prone to violence that any other breed of dog. The fault lies squarely on the shoulders of owners who specifically seek out these dogs for various nefarious reasons.

There is a special place for non-human animals in the heart of Satanism. The reason is that they are natural magicians. As such, they deserve our respect. Part of respecting them is becoming educated on the needs of any animal before making the decision to cohabite with them. It is bad enough that many human animals are trained improperly…it is a crime when other animals are forced to stoop to our level.

An Erotic Ghost story.... Sort of.

In the long long time ago. I lived in a University town and at that time the most unique part of it was called the harbor mall. Every element of counter culture existed there. One could see punks with every shade of hair or skins with none to mention. There were the tie dyed "new" hippies and the ones with long gray beards left over. Trannies also came out to play.

Then night fell. This is when the "freaks" came out in full swing. When you began to walk on the "College street" you could close your eyes and know exactly where you were. The smell of incense would hit your nose along with the cold or snow on a winter night. Girls and boys both painted there faces white and their lips and nails black. Silver metal flashed from eyebrows, septums, lips, tounges and if you were lucky enough to see underneath nipples and genitals. Earlobes were stretched so wide you could see through them. You could hear high spiked heels clicking on the brick walk way. Preachers handed out pamphlets to try to save souls.

In the center of all of this was the legendary (locally anyway) Hall Mall. When you entered you were greeted with a very long narrow flight of stairs. At the top was an arrow composed of red, green, purple and orange light bulbs pointing the way. Under it was a sign that said, "Shoplifters Will Be Maimed!" The incense smell was thick and industrial or gothic music was the soundtrack. The heat was turned up to Hells level. This is where the children of the night gathered.

Inside were independent stores. There was a black light poster shop. A store called the Hemp Cat taught the difference between industrial hemp and marijuana. A place called Ruby Tuesday's was ran by a very strange woman. She would tell stories of Egyptian pyramids that she built in a previous life. Her store was loaded to the point of little walking space. There were clothes, jewelry, and what others would consider junk. However, the stuff she sold had really seen it's day. There was a room where you could have tarot cards read to you. There was also a tattoo shop called Electric Head. One of the artists Spotty Potty painted images of demons and devils on the walls that would have made certain people proud. The sign on the body piercing end boldly stated, "We Will Pierce Any Part of The Body!"

Last but certainly not least was a store called Moon Mystique and that is where this ghost story begins. Moon Mystique was three rooms and sold any range of book, occult objects, etc. that you could imagine. You entered the first room and there was the ritual decor, jewelry, t-shirts, "tobacco accessories" and the cash register. A fat guy with a different colored mo hawk every time you seen him ran the cash register. he also had huge spikes coming out of his eyebrows and lip along with a dotted line tattooed along his neck that said "Cut Here". (I later became friends with him and known him affectionately as Big Gay Bil.)

The second room was books and magazines. In here you would find black draped walls with esoteric knowledge on every shelf. They had books on "white light" wicca, vampires, punk fiction, gay/lesbian/trans gender literature, drug culture and Satanism.

The final room had magazines. They had everything from BD/SM, to Industrial Nation, Fast money123, Propaganda, Bizzare, The jehovas scriptures, Jim and Debbie Goad's Answer Me!, and 'zines perversions for every taste. They also had your normal run of the mill tattoo magazines which is what I was looking at when I saw her.

The tattoo magazines were along the floor so you had to squat to thumb through them. I was alone in the room. Then I heard someone walk in and looked up. The first thing I noticed was black leather thigh high boots. A little further and there was milky creamy white flesh concealed in fishnets. Followed by a very short black leather skirt. Her top consisted of what appeared to be a corset (she was also wearing a black leather jacket) which held nice, round, milky white, what appeared to be oh so soft breasts. Her hair was jet black and went past her shoulders. Her eyes were green and she had bright red lipstick on her pouty lips. She appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties, but damn she looked good.

I began to slowly undress her with my eyes. I couldn't get over the image running my fingers (and other parts of my body) over her pale white skin under the fishnets. Embarrassed, by what I was doing, I quickly looked back down at the magazine in my hand. Then I figured that she probably knew exactly what she was doing and so I should at the very least say hi. Not a couple of seconds passed as I was thinking this when I looked back up. She was gone! Where was my dark angel? There was no exit on either side of the room. I guessed that she didn't jump through the window that over looked the street. There was only one way out. The way you went in. I put the magazine down and went back to the second room. A couple of punks were looking at books but she wasn't in there. I went to the first room. Big Gay Bil sat alone, smoking a cigarette. "Did a woman just come through here?" I asked. "Nope", said Big Gay Bil. How could this be? I went on to give her every description. "Settle down," said Big Gay Bil. "I know your horny but I don't know what to tell you." Tell me where to find her, I thought.

I walked back down the long stair case and entered the street. Cold hit my face and big snow flakes began to cover my body. I looked on both sides, no woman anywhere. I have often wondered if she was a ghost or apparition. She certainly came to me in a couple of wet dreams after I saw her. Was she a spirit? I'll never know for sure.

One thing I do know, is that since that night I have a Huge fetish for a sexy pale white woman, specifically wearing fishnets. I also know that today this town is filled with staid college kids, unimaginative preppies, jocks and the like. Almost no independent stores exist in this town let alone stores like I just described. The scene I just described, for this towns purposes, is a ghost. It is but a phantom of days gone by.

A sense of accomplishment.

Accomplishment is one of the most important feelings we can have. I know people who were making more money at twenty years old then most people in their fourties were making after being employed with the same company for half of their life. When these go-getters quit their jobs, I am inclined to ask, "Why?" If things were so good, if you were making such good money, then why quit?

The answer was not because they did not enjoy it. It was not that they didn't have enough free time. It was simply because "my boss doesn't appreciate what I do; there is no sense of accomplishment."

It is a moot point that these specific examples I am recollecting happen to have been good jobs, because it is like this with anything. I have also known people who packed groceries for their entire lives, and loved the work they did, simply because it made them feel like they were making a difference somehow.

Myself, I do not do the most admirable work. I never got a diploma because of an inconsistency that I have yet to attempt to clear up, but I never had anything in mind for after school. Everyday I hear, "you are too smart for this, why don't you go to college?" or "you are too tough for this, why don't you go work on the rigs?" what these people fail to understand, is that if either of those things interested me at all, I would be doing them.

When the downers at work come to me and tell me "my boss doesn't respect me." or "people don't appreciate what I do around here." I simply tell them, "hey, at least they are paying you." I am empathetic to them, in a strange sort of way. I can understand that they feel unappreciated, I can understand that they want praise from the higher ups from time to time; I do not share these sentiments, but yeah, I GET it. I will often ask them, "what do you do in your spare time?" and I get a response that I am sure no one here is unfamiliar with hearing.

"Nothing."

This irks me every time. How somebody could go to work for eight hours a day, and then spend what precious free time they have sitting there, and rotting away, is a very sad thing indeed. So then I started to think, maybe it's not that they feel unappreciated that is causing the problem, so much as it is they are simply so bored for the rest of their lives, that the only source of satisfaction they get is from work?

I am not appreciated at work. I do well, and everyone knows it, but I am just as replaceable as any other Joe Schmoe; it's to be expected, customer service is not exactly a difficult task. But for whatever reason, I have never felt a lack of accomplishment, or been down in the dumps that someone didn't notice me that day, and the reason is the quality of life I maintain outside of work. When I come home, I like to get things done. When I look in my notebook, and see that I have filled forty pages in just a few days, THAT is where my accomplishment stems from. When I write a particularly good essay that people enjoy, I feel like I have accomplished what I set out to do; and appreciation comes naturally from that.

I think that if these same people who go home every night, drink a beer, watch television for six hours, go to bed, and repeat the same thing for twenty five years actually got something done in that space, whatever it might be, they may not feel so bad about themselves.

Of course, try explaining this to them; "I just don't have the time."

Yet, there always seems to be plenty of time to watch nine back to back episodes of Family Guy for these people.

On Gin.

Truth be told, your time would be better spent trying
to snap an authentic photo of the legendary Bigfoot
than of me, in an inebriated state. However, I am not
a stranger to drink. I make no claims to be a wine
snob. In fact, wine generally causes me gastronomic
distress. My interest lies in beer and spirits.

While I am open to enjoying tastes found in
varieties various and sundry, I have noted the need
for discretion on some fronts. Allow me to share them
with you.

I have found that, when it comes to scotch, money is
no object. By that, I mean I am fortunate in enjoying
even the least expensive brand. In fact, it seems a
blended variety is more agreeable to my palate than a
single malt; thus, allowing me to imbibe, the whole
while leaving a few more dollars in my
wallet...Perhaps, to slip folded into the feathered
delicates of the young dancer who refers to me only as
"Her Regular".

Whiskey, in other forms, is not so forgiving. True, I can be satisfied with a brand resting upon the lower shelf, next to last; but I stay clear of the bottom. Neither my knees, nor my tongue, are up to the challenge.

The sorts that take the greatest care are those of clear liquid. I am speaking, of course, of vodka and gin. While there is a wide variety of vodkas that work quite well if it is your habit to adulterate the near perfect with the crude. Deliver me from the need to dilute one's glass with soda, juice or lime. But if you must, the world…or liquor store…is your oyster. My rule of thumb; never consider a vodka that is below eye level.

Now, my personal choice is, and always has been, gin. If ever a plant could be called holy, it is most certainly the juniper.

Gin, I am told, comes in two varieties…Distilled gin, which is redistilled after being flavored; and, compound gin, flavored with no further distillation. Compound gin is actually a vodka. A piece of trivia with which to wow your friends.

The crowning gem upon this great tree is…Tanqueray.
This is no bottom shelf broad…this is a lady. And as a lady, she does not want to be rushed. She needs to be appreciated first. Notice her fine green complexion. Gaze upon the monogrammed “T”, written in gothic script. Slowly caress her neck, feeling the smoothness of the glass.

It is now time to choose the best vessel in which to hold this sweet ambrosia. You will probably narrow your choices to two; a shot glass or martini glass. I suggest the martini glass. Several laboratory tests, and my own observation, shows that the martini glass holds more volume. This is your better choice.

Now, slowly pour the odiferant brew into the glass, as if you were resting a lover upon a soft bed. Breath in the fragrant bouquet. Drink in a small amount, allowing the liquid to evaporate into your pallet.

Ahh…What wonderful indulgence.

Now, if you will excuse me…I have a date.

So you wanna be a writer?

Most people with aspirations toward writing can’t string two coherent sentences together. Many think that modern inventions like stream-of-consciousness prose and blank verse poetry mean they no longer need to worry about technique or construction. I hate to break it to you, but you are not Marcel Proust or Allen Ginsburg. Not even Proust and Ginsburg started out being Proust and Ginsburg. They had to work at their craft for years and learn all of the rules before they were allowed to break them, and so must you. Putting a line break between each sentence does not turn your shoddy prose into poetry. Writing is a fine skill, one that fewer and fewer people choose to study, and I applaud anyone who wants to learn. Just remember that writing, like any skill, takes time and dedication to master. Not everyone is cut out to be a writer. If you don’t have the time and inclination to really work at it, you shouldn’t do it. If you are willing to work at it, but don’t know where to begin, start by asking yourself a few questions:

First, do you know the basics? Do you know the difference between “there”, “their”, and “they’re”? Do you know the difference between “too”, “to”, and “two”? Do you know the difference between “its” and “it’s”? Do you think it is ever acceptable to use words like “irregardless” or “thirdly”? Do you know the rules for commas, periods, colons, and semicolons? Do you know the possessive singular and plural forms of names like Charles and Moses? Do you know the possessive forms of “her”, “their”, “your”, “our”, not to mention words like “righteousness” and “conscience”? Do you even know what the possessive form is? If you are unsure about any of these things, you are not ready to write. Go read The Elements of Style by William Strunk and E.B. White. The entire text is available on Bartleby.com, or you can get the book for around $8 new at any major bookstore. Read the whole thing, cover to cover. Refer to it often. Commit it to memory if you can.

Second, do you have unrealistic expectations for your writing? Do you think rules like the ones listed above are unimportant? Do you think writing well is easy? Do you think revisions are unnecessary? Do you expect that the first story you write will be published and become a best seller? Do you think the fact that nobody criticizes your poetry means that it is perfect? Are you just as proud of something you wrote ten years ago as you are of something you wrote yesterday? If you said yes to any of these questions, you are being unrealistic. As Isaac Asimov said, “Don’t expect to sell your first story. Yes, I know Bob Heinlein did it, but he is Bob Heinlein, and you are only you.” Professional writers will revise a piece over and over before submitting it to publishers, and even then they are usually rejected. No piece of writing is ever perfect. No matter how good it is, it could always be better. One of those truisms that has been repeated and paraphrased so often that I am not even going to bother trying to find the original quote is “art is never finished, merely abandoned”. A good writer never feels a piece is finished. He will tweak it over and over until he reaches the point where he has to say “this is good enough” and move on, either because the deadline has arrived or because he cannot bear to work with the piece any longer. Good writers, like all craftsmen, hone their skill and develop their own style over time. The absolute best, defining work of a great writer is not always the last thing he publishes, but it is never the first. If you do not see anything wrong with your old writing, or you do not see any improvement in your new writing, then you are either not working hard enough, or not being sufficiently critical of yourself.

Finally, can you take criticism well? Do you get angry and defensive when someone points out a mistake or suggests a correction? Do you ignore criticism, telling yourself that your critics are just jealous, or too stupid to get it? Do you live for adulation and empty praise? If you do, you are selling yourself short as a writer. The last thing a good writer wants to hear is “Great job! Don’t change a thing”, because he knows that there must be something he can improve upon. Good writers need to have their work read with a ruthlessly critical eye. Once you have spent enough time with a piece, you become blind to its particulars. You cannot see the forest for the trees. You cannot tell if others can follow your thoughts, because you tend to read what you wanted to say, rather than what is actually on the page. You need to have others read your work, and you need them to be merciless. A good editor will cut out words, sentences, even whole paragraphs because they are unnecessary, and a good writer will be pained by those cuts, as if he's own flesh were being sliced. But just as an athlete needs the pain of training to grow stronger, a writer needs the pain of editing to make his work stronger. No matter how much he may recoil at first, a good writer will find he's work much improved once the excess fat has been trimmed away and all the unsightly flaws have been circled in red ink. If you don’t have the stomach for criticism, you shouldn’t be a writer.

Once you have come to grips with the facts of writing, and committed yourself to starting down that painful road, there are a few golden rules to follow. Read, read, and read some more. Reading is by far the best way to develop an “ear” for writing, and analyzing what you read is a great way to develop critical skills you can apply to your own writing. Read both fiction and non-fiction. Read many different styles of writing, from award winning prose to advertising copy. Read books about writing (I recommend On Writing Well by William Zinsser, to start). Read LaVey’s essay “Writter’s Disgust” from Satan Speaks! Read anything and everything you can get your hands on, with one notable exception. DO NOT, under any circumstances, read personal blogs and websites, let alone chat or text, as if they were examples of real writing. Though they may occasionally be well written (as I hope this one is), the vast majority are terrible. Not only do spelling, grammar, and punctuation all get thrown out the window, but quite often these kinds of writing don’t even contain complete or coherent thoughts. They seem to be written by drunken schizophrenics with the IQ of retarded chimpanzees.

Pay attention to what you read. What was effective, and what wasn’t? Read works that are critically acclaimed, and try to figure out why they are considered good. Analyze why a piece is good or bad, what you liked and what you didn’t. Was there a particular phrase that just jumped off the page at you? Why did you like that phrase? Was there a section that you had to read over and over to understand, or a phrase that was so awkward it hurt to read it? What was bad about it, and how can you avoid it in your own writing?

Remember that popularity is not equivalent to quality. Reading every book on the New York Times Best Sellers list may help you determine how to write a book that will sell, but it will not teach you how to write well. Conversely, just because something is widely critically acclaimed does not mean that you will enjoy it. That is fine. Something can be good and still not be your style. During the course of my literature studies I have often come across works that I simply hated. I could understand why they were assigned and could develop an appreciation for what made them quality writing, but I would still never choose to read them again, and would absolutely never write that way myself. Still, there is much to be gained from reading these works, just as there is much to be gained from reading writing that is universally understood to be bad.

Finally, write, write, and write some more. Write every day if you can. Don’t worry about making it good. Most of it won’t be. Most of it will be terrible. That is ok. You can go back and rewrite it if you like, or you can move on. If you know it is bad you may want to refrain from asking others to read it, but just the act of writing will make you a better writer. Write on whatever topic you like, or no topic at all. If you have a particular piece you are working on, you will usually want to write for that piece. This is good, but remember that sometimes it is better to just clear the pipes by writing something else. If there is something consuming your thoughts, write about that so you can get it out of the way. If you get exhausted with one topic, put it aside and write something else. If you absolutely can’t think of anything to write, it might be good to take a break and do some reading instead. Reading will get you thinking about writing and may give you inspiration. Just make sure that you come back to your writing later on. Just like any other skill, if you don’t use it, you will lose it. So whatever you do, make sure you write something.

If you find yourself unwilling to do the work involved, you are not a writer. There is no shame in this. Not everyone was meant to be a writer. Accept your shortcomings and move on. But whatever you do, DO NOT subject me to your shitty poetry!


Most poets are wannabe writers who can’t properly compose a sentence, much less write a story. – Anton LaVey, Satan Speaks!

A VOYEUR'S WET DREAM.

The eye-in-the-sky is watching. Your life is being scrutinized, analyzed. Not by some shadowy government overseer, but rather the entertainment industry and those drones they call your peers. The gods of advertisement tempt you with siren songs of Coor's and weed, bad music and conformity through mock rebellion. Dissenters are trampled underfoot by the drug-addled human herd; that mass which swarms to the clarion call of consumerism like flies drawn to warm feces. They laugh and they drink and they stumble while others--equally jejune and matched in ineptitude--live the vanilla freak show vicariously from the comfort of an armchair.
Oh yes, the cameras are everywhere. Waiting for you to fuck up.
Waiting to show the world your pretentiousness; waiting to allow the insipid billions to reward your empty existence with their undying adulation.

We live in the age of technology, and in particular, the age of video.
Cameras are no longer the cumbersome and awkward burdens they once were.
Now any fool with a pittance to spend can purchase a camera with impressive zoom capabilities and resolution; one that will fit in his pocket. Even cell phones come standard with still or video camera features. No doubt this fabulous modern technology has enabled unseemly passers-by to visually penetrate countless skirts unnoticed.
The military is understandably invested quite heavily in the surveillance department. While technology already makes available hummingbird-sized, remote-controlled cameras, the goal is to achieve surveillance with the size and scope of a small insect. At the current pace of advancement, this goal should be met in less than a decade.
Police forces have been utilizing "Cop in a Box" programs to great success. Such programs incorporate cameras into trouble spots and can monitor car speeds, red light violations, or street activity in known gang or prostitution areas.
While such tactics have recieved flak from citizens, camera programs have proliferated because they are practical solutions to cities with a lack of police funding and manpower.

As cameras continue to become embedded in everyday life, one might begin to question the future of private life.
Will we one day be living in a Trevor Goodchild-esque society, where the liberal attitude of shared "openess" is pervasive and enforced through unquestioned mass conformity?
In some ways it seems like path is unfolding before our eyes.
The dominating trend of "reality" television has shown that the herd has a significant interest in passively viewing the mundane, tedious dealings of just about anyone or anything. The powers-that-be have profited(and continue to profit) immensely from this trend, to the point where the "reality show" has become the largest genre on television.
This change has carried over to the internet, where millions of users now interact with eachother over sites like MySpace and YouTube. Now anyone can feel important by sharing pathetic videos of himself with numerous other losers. Everyone is a celebrity in the online arena of egalitarian media. All it takes is a camera and time to kill.

Likewise, an entire lifetime can be pissed away just watching other people, vicariously "living," floating about in the sea of internet flotsam and jetsom.
The virtual addict has an ever-expanding plethora of mental and physical masturbatory material at his disposal, in high definition and surround sound.

Truly, this is a wonderful time to be a voyeur.

Jesus Being a Pest, Yahweh Being a Prick.

In Matthew 26:36-45, Jesus requests 3 times from his daddy, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will." Some people just crack under pressure, I guess...even the son of God himself. But I mean come on! Three times?! Talk about being a pest! I thought he was all-knowing, so why would he have to make that feeble request even once? Didn't he know that it "must be?" Didn't he KNOW that he absolutely MUST die for the so-called sins of mankind and that there was no way out? Didn't he realize, especially by that stage of the game, that even his omnipotent father couldn't get him out of that one? I wonder how the rest of that conversation would have gone...the third time 'round...

JESUS: Please, dad! Pretty please with sugar on top?!

YAHWEH: No, Jesus! For the third time! Now stop asking me!

JESUS: Please?! I love you!

YAHWEH: You love everybody.

JESUS: But why do I have to go through all this shit? I don't understand.

YAHWEH: Because of those two naked idiots in the Garden of Eden. They ate some fruit that gave them knowledge...

JESUS: I already know that stupid story. Come on! That whole thing about Adam and Eve is complete bullshit! They didn't exist. Humans evolved from lower life-forms. There is no original sin, whatever the fuck that is.
YAHWEH: Yes, son, but the Homo sapiens don't know that yet. You and I just know that because we're omniscient and created everything in the first place, Einstein.

JESUS: I know that!

YAHWEH: I know that you know that.

JESUS: Right. 'Cause you know all, and you and I are one. I am you; therefore I know all as well. Since we both have the same mind, I know all that you know, which is everything, 'cause we're the one true God!

YAHWEH: Right. So why are you talking to yourself?

JESUS: I don't know.

YAHWEH: Look, can we get this show on the road, please? I've got a lot of things to attend to. You can't escape your destiny, son. The Scriptures must be fulfilled, now grow some balls and do this thing.

JESUS: Are you telling me that I have to be mocked, slandered, tortured and killed in the most heinous of ways as a "sacrifice" for the innocent disobedience of two non-existent individuals, who ate a non-existent fruit, from a non-existent tree, which transferred non-existent sin through the loins of all mankind?

YAHWEH: Oh, I'll throw them all into hell forever if you don't do it.

JESUS: But hell didn't even exist until I started talking about it!

YAHWEH: Well, you're not talkin' your way out of this one, son.

JESUS: But why do you want this? It's all a sham!

YAHWEH: It's the only way I can keep from taking my fury out upon them for all time...by watching you suffer and die.

JESUS: Your fury upon them for what?! They've done nothing and YOU'RE the one who created them in the first place!

YAHWEH: I created them because I couldn't get the little buggers out of my head, and they tormented me because they're so fucking smug.

JESUS: What in the hell are you talking about, old man?! I'm about to get the shit beaten out of me and my ass crucified on two giant slabs of wood and you're babbling like a goddamn crazy person!

YAHWEH: I'm sorry, my son...
But until I've seen you whipped and beat I cannot handle man,
Until I've seen you suffer, I cannot show the love I am.
Until I see your blood flow, and hear you scream in pain,
Every good deed that humans do will always be in vain.
Until I see them mock and tear you, and rend your skull with thorns,
My only joy will ever be to make them wish they were never born.
I put you there to suffer in agony, moaning with every breath,
My sadism saves mankind with your gory, gratuitous death.
Trust me, my son, don't be afraid, for you know that we are one,
I cannot be sated until I hear you say that "it is done."
Indeed you'll die and descend to Hell where you'll see dreadful things,
But then you'll rise and sit by me and together we'll rule as kings!
But until I've seen you ripped and pierced I cannot tolerate man,
Until I've seen you in horror, I cannot be the being of love - I am.

JESUS: (...)

YAHWEH: Well? Any other questions?

JESUS: Jesus fucking Christ, you are really sick! What the hell was that?

YAHWEH: What, you didn't like my poem?

JESUS: No, I didn't like your freakin' poem! Just how nuts are you? What is this?!

YAHWEH: You asked and you received, baby. Just like you preached.

JESUS: What is all this, one big joke to you or something? What's going on here? And why am I talking to you if I am you? And if I know all that you know, why do I feel the need to keep asking you things? And why can't I understand one goddamn thing you've been saying all this time? Why can't I wrap my head around this whole ridiculous, horrible, morbid plot of yours? You're not my father! I'm not the son of God! You're not even God, are you?! You're just a crazy voice inside my crazy head! You're not real...are you?! (Listens) ARE YOU?! (Listens) Hello?! (Listens) Hey! Where the fuck did you go?! Hello?! (Listens) COME BACK! (Listens) HELLO?!

Revenge IS Productive.

Revenge is probably a word misunderstood, due to it's prominent use in mainstream media. Whenever someone is out to take revenge in the movies, usually, it is because Thunder Leg of the Four Fist Clan killed their master, and they must kill Him to return the favor.
Or, somebodies father was killed, and they have sworn to take revenge.

All revenge is, however, is a retalliation against an
individual or a group who has wronged you.
So, where the hell does it say that revenge must entail PHYSICAL HARM? That is the general misconception these dopes seem to have.
If someone calls you a dink, you punch his lights out! Revenge, right?

Wrong.

Satanists also follow Lex Talionis; an eye for an eye, the punishment should fit
the crime. So if someone calls you a dink, you call him a dink right back. (I understand this is wrong, I am just citing the most inane example I can think of for the sake of utter simplicity.)

He who turns the other cheek is a cowardly dog.
This is true for many reasons.

Likely, the person seeking to harm you is an enemy. If they don't look it, fine, they are still an enemy, simply posing as something otherwise. If they harm you in some way, and you do NOT seek revenge, what will happen to you?

Ever heard of giving an inch, taking a mile?

People have a hard time "stopping." Whether it is that crack addict who needs another hit, the alcoholic who needs just one more drink, or the fatty who needs just one more chip, you can cite a thousand examples of this.
People driven by compulsion, not indulgence.
Do you think that if you let old Billy two thumbs punch you in the face, and then act apologetic or don't do anything in return, that he is going to stop? Maybe in some idealistic fantasy world, but what about the real world?

Fuck no.

It won't stop. It will never stop. If a person has been able to drag up the "guts" to harm you in the first place, what the fuck is going to make them change their mind after the first time? If they see they can "get away" with it, by Their logic, why would they NOT pursue, and damage you further?

Self-preservation is the Highest law. The HIGHEST.
So why forgo that law in the name of mercy, or in trust?
Why would you trust someone doing this in the first place?


The Satanist is not a fool. He is clever, sneaky, full of guile. The Satanist follows the law, and would not put him or herself at risk of breaking this law, and being thrown in a cell himself.
So by this logic, for a Satanist to beat the shit out of someone, or even kill them, out of the name of revenge, would make them a pretty piss-poor Satanist, at best.
The point is, he is smarter then this, will find ways, whether it be using the law, or humiliation, or any other tactic to completely Destroy the enemy...without having to destroy their body.
That is real power. Anyone can pick up a club, and smash the skull of a passerby in through his brain. To scramble that same persons brain using no physical means or tools? That is truly a mastery in
itslef...and far more effective in the long run, for the Satanist; he gets to continue to live his life.

The Satanist is, should be, at the top of the food chain concerning the rest of the humans he walks amongst.
He is the devourer, not the food. This magician establishes
this daily with the folks he encounters, using his "magic" to
manipulate the weak to do his bidding. He establishes this relationship through his words and his actions.
To be prayed upon by a criminal, by a lowlife...by that which is the Lowest of society...is to become food.
The weak are strong in number, and they can still attack the strong, but it is up to the good Satanist to put them into their place, to Teach Them where they really belong, and to make sure they don't make the same mistake in the future.
The Satanist is protecting himself from them, and inadvertantly, anyone else in the future who the scum would have tried to do the same thing to.

A member of the Hierarchy recently pointed me in the direction of a book called, the 48 Laws Of Power.



Law 15, Crush your enemy totally.


"More is lost through stopping halfway than through total annihilation: The enemy will recover, and will seek revenge."


The intelligent Satanist, he who seeks revenge, who enacts revenge, would be very wise to keep this in mind. Revenge cannot be a half-hearted act. Not only is seeking revenge Necessary, but the extent to which it must be sought is important to establish as well. The answer, as is obvious, is to the Full Extent.


This is getting rather long. Keep in mind, the context of the offending act is important to recognize. If someone yells "fuck you" out of their car window as they drive by, this probably is not a good reason to go seeking revenge.
Be realistic. If someone is putting you at great physical risk, and it is possible to do so, a wise choice would be getting the law involved, and prosecuting that person...restraining orders, the whole bit.

That is just my two cents about this topic. The bottom line being, revenge is certainly Not "counter-productive."


PS:
On a sidenote, I want to establish that I would sooner Avoid said
conflicts then have to deal with them. For many, they live in a
situation where calling themselves a Satanist is not detrimental to
their lives in anyway. For others, like myself, this is probably not the case. Wearing many many different masks is of great importance for a Satanist as well, blending in with others as a chameleon would. It is possible for a person to go their entire lives without having to seek any kind of revenge (I have done pretty good so far, concerning that.)
but it is generally unlikely.

Also, revenge can take many many forms.
If I were to touch up on All of them, this bloody essay would
take a day and a half to read, but there are plenty of ways to catch a fly.

Simple Pleasures.

I write because I like mapping out my thoughts on paper. I never suspect that what I write will make much of a difference to anyone else. Feedback that compliments what I'm saying is always welcome, but the feedback that challenges what I'm saying—so long as it is constructive—is just as welcome, if not more so. Despite any or all feedback, I'm still going to map out my thoughts because it gives me pleasure.

Simple pleasures and a good challenge here-and-there are what keeps me smiling.
Give me some fine tobacco and a good pipe, and I'll be just fine. Admiring the craftsmanship and flavor of the pipe and how it smokes can occupy me until the bowl is done. Distinguishing the flavors of the tobacco as it mists my taste buds often brings forth memories I don't mind reliving. Adding a glass of merlot or a good single-malt scotch to the equation means adding to the pleasure of the experience.

Yet, if you also add a book, the pleasure broadens still. Give me something about ancient Rome or the Third Reich and I'll hang a "Do Not Disturb" sign on my ear.
In fact, give me a Bjarne pipe, some English tobacco, a glass of Glenfiddich, a book about Roman emperors, and a toilet seat and I won't show my face again until my feet are numb or I need a refill; whichever comes first.
Give me time with my "better half" sitting on a park bench, feeding ducks and geese and talking about why eugenics is ideal, or how the Nation can help the economy by building its own Coliseum for gladiatorial games between death row inmates, and having it shown on Pay-Per-View.

A large ball of modeling clay will keep me busy for hours. Typically, I'm the only one capable of seeing what it was I'd constructed, but that's enough for me. I might try to learn new techniques and improve each time, but that only comes second. I wouldn't dare destroy something I love simply because it isn't precise.
Give me pencils, pens, paint, paper, cardboard, magazine clippings, glue, string, tissue paper, doll parts, miniature figurines, and just about anything else I can use to create something new, and whether or not it's actually "art" is irrelevant to me.

I'll take puzzles over television, text books over celebrity magazines, sailing ship models over cell phones, and my cat over my neighbors.
I'll wear my Soviet NBC gas mask and look at books rich with pictures of the Soviet Union during the Cold War.

I have my idols and (anti-)heroes, and I use them for inspiration. Some are fictitious, some are not. Some are dead and some still live. If they're dead and I'm still paying attention to them, they've achieved a status most admirable.
If they're alive, I pay close attention and learn what I can while awaiting their next move.
If they're fictitious, I'll re-read them or watch them over again to relish the personification of what I consider grand idealism.
I remember when there was a What Would Jesus Do? explosion, and just about anywhere you looked was a WWJD tee shirt, key chain, or bumper sticker. For me, it would be What Would Hulk Do, or Wolf (Larsen), or Caesar, or Krupp, or Hearst…

My life is like my modeling clay: I will keep busy molding it into a shape that may not seem like art, but so long as I know what it is and what it's supposed to look like, and I continue to make progress, I'll be happy. I'll continue to apply new techniques and try to become a more apt sculptor, but I certainly won't stop loving it simply because it isn't precise...

Are Freemasons Satanists?

Are Freemasons Satanist? That is a question I have been asked and even had some demand it to be true and I am a little tired of it. I know all of you already know the answer to this question but I just have to get it off my chest so here is an essay I wrote about the differences between Freemasonry and Satanism.

Freemasons, where did they come from? What do they believe in? Do they control the world? Do they have a secret alliance with Satan? Are they Satanist? These are questions that many ask and never truly answer. Most seem to just make up with false accusations. I have heard tall tales about them being devil worshippers and them being in control of the entire world. To me these outlandish claims are just stupid attempts to put labels on things they do not understand nor even try to understand.

Are Freemasons the enemy? Not to me and not to most. But to some right wing extremist religions they are. The Catholic Church hates them (no surprise there, the freemasons were a group founded on hiding from and surviving the Catholics.), even the kind and caring protestants hate them. Why do all these spiritual religions hate the Masons? Because of what they stand for (Besides, religions hate each other because they all seek the same thing, power).

The Freemason beliefs are of self-improvement. They recognize that if man wishes to be successful and to survive in life he must constantly strive for improvement. They believe in science and technology and their advancement. These things in my opinion are satanic in nature and they embrace them instead of reject them. The masons understand the importance of rituals and ceremonies. The dogma that they conduct in their lodges is to install a sense of pride in their selected masonry and traditions. The degrees they give are only offered to those who prove themselves successful in the lodge and the real world. (Most mason lodges have three degrees while the famous Scottish Rite - a concordant organization, which is part of the 'Masonic family' - has an degree system consisting of thirty-two degrees.) That to me is satanic.

It is true that their rituals are used more towards installing an unbreakable law and a secret "brotherhood" mentality. They see life as the survival of the group and not as survival of the individual, which I personally disagree with. But they understand that the magic involved in their rituals has the power to control and to motivate. Some of the creeds they speak in their ceremonies have words of extreme punishment and deeply embedded historical information. They use these things to make an attitude of secrecy and control. A useful tool that they have learned over a period of four hundred or even six hundred years.

Membership into a mason lodge is of own free will. "Be he a free man or be he born to a free mother." Is one of their requirements (An old rule that was applied back in the medieval ages when not many men were free. Of course in this day in age every man is free, or so he thinks.) "He must believe in a Supreme Being and be a man of faith" is another one of their rules. They believe that every man has the right to believe in their own vision of the Supreme Being, be it Christianity, Muslim, Buddhist, Mormon, and so on. But he must have faith in some form of superior entity other than himself. For they do not believe the word of an atheist. How can a man who has no alliance with a god be trusted? If he has no faith than they have no faith in his obedience of his oaths. Every ignorant in my mind. I have more "faith" in a man that believes in himself than a man that lets fate and some form of god protect him. I disagree with this part of masonry.

Someone might want to argue that Satan could be considered "Supreme", the fact of the matter is that the entire process of application would discourage someone with behavior which is so deviate from societal norms (It depends on what Satan represents to him. If he actually believes in some being in material form craving souls than this would be true). Besides who would want a devil worshipper in their organization when he is just looking for a label for himself and wants to be the bad guy of the world. An idiot that wants that kind of attention will also use Freemasonry as an attention getter as well (not to mention Satanism for that matter). But let's examine this further: would a person who might enjoy blaspheming God (I use this word to describe one's non-belief of god) want to join a group which has an open Bible (or a Koran) on the Altar in the center of the Lodge room? Would a person who would debase Deity feel comfortable around a group of men, nearly all of whom were active in the practice of their faith? The only answer is - of course not! I may have friends that are Freemasons but I would not join their lodges and take part in something I have no found belief in. The bottom line: Freemasonry has nothing whatsoever to do with Satanism. PERIOD! End of Discussion!!! Not that some of the Freemason's ideas are not the same as a Satanist but they are both two different beasts - two separate beliefs.

Quote:
The Pentagram or five-pointed star is, of course, both a Masonic symbol and the ancient symbol of witchcraft. With its point facing down (or south, when placed on the ground) it is especially associated with Satanism. Satanists can be found wearing the inverted pentagram frequently; and it appears on the cover of many black magic books, including THE SATANIC BIBLE. In this form, it is also the emblem of the Eastern Star, the women's Masonic organization. *

The symbol that the Freemasons use is a compass and ruler with the letter G in the center. The compass and ruler are found in the tools of a stone mason and the letter G stand for geometry. The symbol is to believe to be taken from the Seal of Solomon which looks like the Star of David but one of the triangles is colored in with black. It is not the same as a pentagram; in fact it is far from it. As for the women's Masonic symbol is a total different story since Masonic religion is mainly a club for men.

I do not remember where I found this quote and nor do I remember who spoke it but it pissed me off when I first read it. Freemasonry and Satanism are two separate religions. Some of their philosophy is in common but to say Freemasons and Satanist are the same is stupid. As I have said above their rituals, their love for science and technologies, and their self-improvement is satanic in nature but their motives are not. So let's make it clear right here: Freemasons have nothing - absolutely nothing - to do with Satanism.

With their openness of religion and not ostracizing people based on their gods makes them a wiser group than most would give them credit. Sure I disagree with their God and group mentality but with their attitude of no organized religious authority should be allowed to control your life and your beliefs I tend to like them. Most of History's best men and women were Freemasons, and they have all made grand contribution to our world and development. Sure they are devoted to their gods and beliefs but I will thank them for creating (or making contributions to) a society were if a person so chooses he can truly become an individual and be free.

Freemasonry has played a significant role in the history of politics, so it influenced most or all of our leaders in the world. Some Presidents and/or Prime Ministers who were Freemasons were great, some failures, and some average. Presidents/Prime Ministers have spoken of Freemasonry's good work on behalf of charity and helping others (promoting their own agendas). As an american example, George Washington and Theodore Roosevelt also spoke of Freemasonry as an institution that teaches us how to get along in society, with respect for the equality of everyone (a far fetched idea that will truly never happen and I for one don't really wish to see), tolerance of differences among people (now I can respect people's differences but only if it doesn't interfere with my way of life), and taking action for that which is right.

Many also claim that they control the world. They say that they are the cardholders and card players of some secret world control. To them I say: stop with all the silly logic. I agree they have connections to government officials, politicians, the media, and some companies' CEOs. But so do many, many other groups. Do you really think they are the only ones who have that kind of connections? Please. There are thousands of religions, movements, and organizations that have connections and they are all fighting for their piece of the world. Look at groups like Al Qaeda, Scientology, Skull N Cross Bones, Catholic Church, all the Mafias, Socialism, Communism, Fascism, and so many more and their all fighting to have some control, some type of future. (As I see it, Satanists are smarter than to destroy ourselves in this stupidity. We can control our lives and futures by taking care of ourselves and letting these groups kill each other.)

To close this essay with saying that Freemasonry has some satanic ideas and so do many other past and present groups do/did. Freemasons are another god-based religion. One I have a little more respect for. Not just for their practices but also their history. From the fall of the Knights of Templar, to the Peasant Rebellion of 1381, to the Revolutionary War, and to WWII. It is amazing how they have survived, influenced, and it's interesting what they teach as well.
But i am reaching the end of this essays, as now it's my time to shine, survive and live.

Now to sum up all this jibberish. Freemasons are not Satanist. It's that simple.

Thanks for reading.

Hail Satan

Mr.Nice Guy.

There are many many misconceptions that the common man has about Satanism. Perhaps it is because Satanists are not common men? I have written a lot of essays in the past about "idiots" and such, so I'd like to stray away from that topic for awhile. It is redundant. We know there are idiots who lack understanding, and I don't want to sound like I am getting hung up on that fact. As a wise, bearded man once told me, "There are sometimes when you show a great deal of understanding, and others when you seem to be surprised by things that are very well known to most people." A fair statement, considering the content of my essays.

This essay instead, is about how being a nice guy can go a long way. I do not ask much of "the herd" in general. Anything I have ever desired to obtain or accomplish has not required their approval on any level. But I mean, let's face it. The world ain't filled with the alien elite. If it was, those words would lose much meaning. Many are self employed, and able to keep to themselves at their own will, live at their own pace. They are generally able to ignore who they wish to ignore, but even at that level of "isolation", they are bound to step into the flock and be forced to wade their way through it. I think like all good chameleons, they have learned to blend in enough to maintain their individuality, but avoid such confrontations. And I will tell you right now, as bold a statement this may be, they most likely didn't do it by being an asshole.

I have to deal with the public on a large scale, every single day. I do not hate my job. If I did, I would not be there, simply. But after eight hours of dealing with clods, the brain tends to get a bit melty; like an ice cream cone being eaten under a hot sun. I have from time to time, gotten a bit testy, and frankly, everyone I work with is probably in the same mind frame of careless monotony that the rest of the crowd is. This has been going on all my life, in many different crowds, and the viewpoint I took to it, before very recently, was "fudge it." Ignore them. Don't engage in conversation. Eyes forward, chin up. Turn your core temperature down to zero. Sure, they leave you alone; aye, you give them no other choice! But you will be doing nothing other then digging a shallow grave.

Magus Gilmore wrote a very good piece in his book, The Satanic Scriptures, about the weak being something like swamp leeches. One or two are a small annoyance, but in numbers, they can topple even the greatest of beasts. This rings very true in any situation, including mine, and potentially, yours as well. I was recently recommended an extraordinarily good book called The 48 Laws of Power, and I can honestly say, it belongs in any Satanists library. It is a perfect example of why my former attitude might have worked for a little while...but that the leeches would eventually begin to latch .. long.

It is hard to recommend to any cynical individualist to have a tolerance of the idiots that make up the herd; but on the contrary, I am not trying to do so. Tolerance is not required to shapeshift, to take a different form. In short; be nice to these people. It does not have to extend past common courtesy, but it is extremely helpful in the long run. You do not have to like them. You do not have to agree with them. But by being rebellious, by being cruel and unkind for no particular reason, you will only be putting yourself in jeopardy; and what self serving individual, what Satanist, would ever want to risk his own skin, for any reason at all?

Not I.

Hello my Addiction.

hello my addiction
my so called "friend"
you'll stand beside me
until the end

we started out close
and the times were fun
in the beginning
but now i'm done

somewhere along the way
things went wrong
our happiness soon turned
into a sad sad song

the lies you've told me
the truth they lack
you deceived and hurt me
stabbed me in the back

ive held your hand
afraid to let go
as we walked the path
i could not say no

i lived in your world
and forgot what's real
how to love and care
and how to feel

but the time has come
to say goodbye
to walk away
but not to cry

for you've taught me things
that'll i'll never forget
and because of this
i'm not upset

i've put you first
time and time again
turned my head at
what should've been

so i leave you now
so that i can be
the person i once was
and rediscover me.

Enlightment and Half Truths.

A certain student was on the road; and, he saw coming toward him a teacher of renown. Slung over his shoulder was a weighty sack, slowing his progress. The student decided to seize the opportunity, and asked the teacher to describe enlightenment.

The teacher put down the heavy sack, allowed a look of sheer joy to take over his face, and danced around in what can only be described as ecstasy. It brought goose bumps to the student. He wanted nothing more than to learn further. What comes next, questioned the student; at which point the teacher picked up his sack, and resumed his journey, leaving only the memory of his euphoric visage.

I can distinctly remember certain moments in my life when I experienced certain key realizations. The first was when I realized that there was no great cosmic judge who was watching my every move, and waiting with exasperating patience as I made my way toward the grave, chomping at the bit to mete out judgment on every decision I had ever made, both great and small. Though the truth of this matter may be a point of debate, it was then that I lost the Great Fear. Death was no longer a specter to be feared. Instead, it became the great enemy. The feeling of relief cannot be described. Once the fulcrum of angst has been seen through, the smaller anxieties lose their punch.

Some time later, I began to study ethics, and became interested in Amorality. When it became more than academics, and the reality that all laws, morals and rules were artificial, and could be traced back to particular times, I experienced a further moment of freedom that could felt on a visceral level. It was heady.

No laws, no rules, no barriers. I knew for the first time what it was to walk among the herd; my feet untouched by the muck, and mired refuse it produced. I was free! My own man! Master of my own ship! I had no one to answer to, save myself. This can only be experienced, as words fail to describe it.

As great an enlightenment as that was, it was only half the truth. After that moment of ecstasy, a great weight finally put down, it was time to pick it back up, and continue on my way. Though I had been forever changed, my walk appears to be that of an ordinary, law-abiding citizen. Hidden away is my freedom. To think that, just because all laws, rules and restrictions are man-made; and, that, because I have an understanding of that, I can do what I want, when I want in any way I want; and, that I should expect to get away with it, is delusional. I live in the real world; with real officers carrying real guns that are ready, willing and able to show me what happens to half assed philosophers.

A Satanist lives a life of responsible indulgence. I will probably play that note time and time again, because for me, those two words encapsulate the satanic philosophy. Realizing that you are your own God, and thinking that means you can do whatever you want is to realize a half-truth. Enlightenment is great. It is also a dime a dozen, and useless if it does not work.

Take every law that every individual who thinks they are special so they do not have to be effected by that law. Take every question of why should it be and why are you following the herd. Put them all in a bag, and say because you can..t have fun in prison, dumb ass. So what if laws are man made? Maybe there is a very good reason for them. Sure, it is nice feel above it all; but, I think most people who talk about how free they are, are just sheep who have jumped the fence. It is only a matter of time before their keepers catch up to them. Any satanic philosophy worth its salt will be practical. It will actually help you enjoy life, rather than being on the lamb. Sheep are sheep, even if they temporarily feel like they are free. We walk among them, but are not of them. We realize that freedom is working within the framework given.

I remember how good it felt to finally put down my bag of outmoded rules, fears and ought. I danced around, said isn't this grand, and picked up my bag of responsibility.

I'm still free.

Find Thyself.

They want a world of peace,
They want a world of trust,
A world ruled by power and greed,
Love now replaces lust.

I am a product of my on choice,
What was once inside has died,
I stand and firmly raise my voice,
I will not be denied.

Images give false hopes and dreams,
By paper, carved in wood and stone,
Only through self, shall you be redeemed,
In pride you stand alone.

Tread the darkened path,
But of the light you have no fear,
And live each day is if your last,
As long as you are here.

Satanic characteristics?

What physical attributes, likes or dislikes, do you think of when you hear the word, "Satanist?"

Do you think of the guy wearing the "Exodus" T-Shirt? The fella with the inverted cross on his neck? The gentleman wearing a fedora and fine suit? The chap wearing leather and sunglasses? Or the woman imitating Betty Page?

What do all of these things say to someone that would make them assume "Satanist" upon first glance?

If you answered anything but "nothing" then you are wrong.


One of the things I quickly learned upon picking up The Satanic Bible, and learning about Satanism, REAL Satanism, is that there is no common dress code. There are no common interests or hobbies. There are no common sexual preferences, or mannerisms.

There are a great variety of people on this forum alone. I absolutely CANNOT pick out any specific member out of the ones I have shared meaningful conversation with, and say, "Oh, he is exactly like that guy."

Some are learned about philosophy, or science...or both. Some here are terrific artists, or simply love to view and discuss art. Some like to hang out in the video game section, and discuss the new releases. Some put more time into the music section. Some run comedy radio shows. Some are wonderful poets. Some are family men or Women. Some work wonders with different kinds of metal, and so on, and so on, and so on.

As for looks? That is harder to pin down, since many prefer to remain anonymous in their profiles. I picture half the damn forum as different types of birds, and everytime I buy a box of cornflakes, I am reminded of the variety of people i have came across. But, from what is available, I can see there is a variety of different styles and clothing that the people here adopt.

Some like a nice suit, or fedora. Some do have the long hair and the metal t-shirt. Some prefer a nice modest sweater. Some prefer the dress of a nineteenth century chimney-sweep. Some simply bum around in whatever they got, and others like to dress like hip, fashionable cats.

The point here, is that there are no Satanic characteristics, at least not defined this way. Who is the most likely candidate to pick out of a crowd as a Satanist? He who walks with an air of confidence. He who seems comfortable in his own shoes, perhaps a smile on his face. She who turns heads for no definable reason, or is revered wherever she sets foot, though no one can really tell WHY.

There are people out there who will continue on, defining by their OWN definition what is "Satanic" and what is not, but they will most certainly not be finding this information in The Satanic Bible. There is no missing page where Anton LaVey decided to rate ZZ Top as being more Satanic than Beethoven, or vice-versa. It is not a Satanic Sin to wear white, or pink, or anything more colorful then black.

As the Satanist is Satanic, so becomes that which he enjoys, or is partial too. Thinking otherwise is a misconception that would be better off shot dead, put to rest, and buried. This is a skim-the-surface opinion; there are clearly artists, writers, musicians etc. out there who adopt very Satanic themes for their work, so it could be called "more Satanic", but the bumpkin who claims Slayer is more Satanic then Pavarotti because Slayer adopts dark imagery, is blowing smoke...straight from where the sun don't shine.

Vodka.

All I want is more;
It is you that I adore;
Faithfully your whore.

One familiar face;
I swallow your embrace;
And flaunt your borrowed grace.

A liquid ecstacy;
My pains don't bother me;
When you accompany.

An empty alibi;
Tempting me to fly;
Smiles and says goodbye.

But why leave me so soon?
Return to my cocoon;
Where I offer you a boon.

It's time I need to borrow;
I'll hand you my sorrow;
When I summon you tomorrow.

Naming Names!

I have found that reading what others write...what conclusions they have come to regarding this, that and the other thing, often causes me to try to crystalize my own thoughts. That's why I read.

That being said, I want to reflect on a question I have been asked recently...

Why do you feel the need to label yourself? You know what you think...what difference does it make what you call it, if anything?

That question reminds me of the second movie I have ever seen on the big screen. The first movie was "Bambi". I was traumatized. His mother dies!!! The second movie my nurturing parents took me to see was "Rumpelstiltskin". I was traumatized. He kidnaps babies!!!

You surely remember the story. We have the virgin given a task because her drunken father was an empty blowhard. He kept telling these tall tales about what a great catch his daughter was, so the king held her to it. Not knowing what to do, in enters the bad guy. We know he is a bad guy, because he is a dwarf. If disney can't traumatize you by killing off someone's mother, by golly, he'll make sure you develop a healthy fear of dwarves, hags and witches! Sorry ladies. This dwarf had what a modern remake may call "mad skillz". He was able to spin straw into gold.

First night...he asked for her necklace...yeah, right. Second night, it was her ring; third night, her first born (can someone say goodbye virgin?)

Well, the king knew a good thing when hen saw it, and he married the girl. In no time, she had a son. Lickety split, enter Rumpelstiltskin, to claim his prize (in case you haven't been paying attention, he was the real father). There is only one way out of her plight...one way for her to gain power over Rumpelstiltskin...She had to name him. She had to identify who he was.

Congratulations to all of the little children who were dragged into theaters everywhere to see this movie. You have just been given your first lesson in magic. It is an ancient magical tradition to name something, in order to gain power over it. That is why demons were named, to gain power over them. That is why Jehovah is not a name. The Big Guy had no name. Why? To keep from being overpowered.

I have found that the most important thing for me to have power over, is myself. In following this ancient tradition, I named myself.

I see it in numerous introductions..."I feel the powers of Hell", "I feel the black flame burning", "I feel powerful". As trite as it may sound, when I made the solid proclamation, "I am a Satanist", the effect was immediate.
I felt a sense of power over myself. A sense of control over myself. A knowledge that I do, indeed, have the power to control my destiny. It was not the words, themselves; it was an embracing of the words...internalizing them.

After a while, I now know it is time to kick things up a notch. The technical name for that is a paradigm shift. So, I have decided to name myself again, by making a solid decision to join the Church.

The next time someone asks me why it is so important to label myself a Satanist, I'm just going to tell them the truth...it's magic.

Natural obediance.

The herd is a strange phenomenon, it draws us in with promises of an easy life, there is a reason for this of course. We have evolved to rely on the herd because it was at some point natural for all humans to hunt and think together and we survived and thrived because of the co-operation involved with it.

Then something happened, we became top of the food chain and we no longer needed so much co-operation. This caused certain people to shun the herd and become self enforced outcasts.

I say "enforced" because I would argue it is not humans true nature to be apart from the herd, Satanists have come full circle in the cycle of evolution reverting to hunting alone for whatever their quarry may be. Becoming more than the herd can be and in many cases using the herd against itself!

But the pull of the herd in us is strong, we must be wary of its power to draw us into things we feel we "must" do. The right hand path has its "help your fellow man" and "good Samaritan" that talks to the natural desire in the herd to help others, and by proxy themselves. This is a powerful motivator to most people but its no longer necessary for us to survive as a race.

So are we unnatural to shun this obedience? Most of us had to learn to say "No!" to things we didn't want to do, as our parents encouraged us to be a part of the herd. Or is it likely we are a natural reaction to the society we are a part of in our own way. Perhaps the natural world has always needed a Satanist to be a part of it.

The greatest minds have always been Satanic, forcing their way past such herd constructions as God, making their own way of doing something new. Exploring avenues forbidden by others and paving the way for others to do the same.

So with this in mind, is it then quite natural for some to be disobedient! perhaps in the exact proportions that we find the herd to be numerous and Satanists to be few.

Our natural desires we where born with don't seem to be common to everyone, herd conformity must be quite a natural desire but with me it never was. In fact it was the opposite I desired, to be free of the herd.

Satanism is very natural to me, but not to most.

Male or Man?

Being a man goes beyond physiology. Anything with a penis and testicles is male. All humans with a penis and testicles are male. Not all are men.

There is the obvious difference between pre-pubescent boys and grown males. But being a MAN also involves a large abstract component. All cultures have some kind of rites of passage when a male, considered a boy, becomes a man. Being a man is as much in the eyes of others as in one's own eyes.

To be a real man requires courage, integrity, wisdom, maturity, sound judgment, a stoic determination, control of one's emotions, dominance of intellect over said emotions, resourcefulness, strength through gentleness, manners, respect for women, a sense of chivalry, and honour.

I'll sum it up with two quotes that capture what a real man is:


"Honour is the gift a man gives himself, and that no other man can take away...you must never mistreat a woman, nor malign a man; nor must you stand by while others do so".

-Liam Neeson as Robert MacGregor in "Rob Roy"


"Any fool with a dick can make a baby. It takes a real man to raise his kids right".

-Lawrence Fishburne as Furious Styles in "Boyz N the Hood"

Group Houg.

Group Hug.

Today I’ll write a happy poem,
Where no one needs to die,
I’ll write instead about sunshine,
And birds in a clear blue sky.

I’ll write about the nice things,
I’ll be nice about all folk,
Everything is wonderful,
We can all laugh and joke.

I don’t mind if you’re Christian,
I don’t mind if you’re a Jew,
Even if you’re a Muslin,
I don’t hate you. (smiles)

I don’t mind if you’re stupid,
I don’t mind that you stink,
I’ve given my desire to kill you all,
A great big rethink.

Please come around mine for supper,
Please visit me for tea,
I promise I won’t kill you,
I won’t hack away with glee.

I think it’s great that you’ve had another child,
Although you’re so very dumb,
The world needs thousands of folk like you,
Who won’t ever pay a crumb.

Oh love is in my heart today,
Oh love is a wonderful chase,
I no longer need to take my axe,
And plough it into your face.

So lets have a great big group hug,
And let’s all raise our glasses,
Before I slam the oven door shut,
AND BURN YOUR WORTHLESS ASSES!

Soap and Mirrors.

Illusions follow all around,
As echoes of the real.
Law grasping morals freely,
Sinking into trampled hearts.
Through trampled parts we roam.
These trampled hearts can feel like home.

With soap and mirrors will we wash,
Away the twisted reflection,
Of lack of natural selection.
When nature was denied.
Justice lay down and died.
Who are we to argue?

Darwin sadly left this land,
And with him liberty’s sword.
A guilt edged blade in its place,
Washed clean with holy pious grace,
Cleaving grass to just one level.
Who are we to argue?

Mirrored lives are joy to most,
Reflected glory tempts the weak.
As a tear rolls down freedom’s cheek,
Who are we to argue?

Satan's Offer.

Here is a secret
that is really not.
Slavery's an option
that's what you got.

There is something
more for you.
I have it now
You can have it too.

No dying man
to bow before.
No sensless praying
to a 'virgin' whore.

There's no admission
or dipping pools.
No fancy buildings
full of fools.

There is no God
or angelic mass.
There is no heaven
for which to pass.

So what must you do
to have this way.
And how much tithe
should you pay?

Oh silly slaves
Its always free.
Your eyes are covered
so you can't see.

Just leave behind
Your chain & ball.
Don't look back
and enjoy the fall.

Z

As daylight slowly fades away
Her scent rises into the air
Drifting out on the winds of Hell
Bringing with it deep despair

My fear multiplies, uncontrolled
Enticing her to arise
Waking from a sleep of death
Dominance burns in her eyes

Within my dreams she comes to me
A purveyor of endless night
Tempting me to depart with her
To new worlds absent of light

I try try to resist, but cannot fight
Like poison, she seeps through my skin
Releasing long buried passions
And the nightmares that lurk within

Falling into her blackened realms
She guides me through her madness
Where the spirits of those who've come before
Cry out in horror and sadness

She knows the things I don't want known
And exploits any weakness she finds
Trapped in webs spun from her malice
She slithers deeper into my mind

Her stare alone sears through the brain
Conjuring forth my insanity
She sings of love that's long since died
Consumed by waves of agony

I plead with her to end this game
As unimagined sights greet my eyes
Her deep and cold sepuchral voice
Promises more misery and lies

At last I kneel down at her feet
Every piece of my will torn apart
Upon my soul she starts to feed
Forever she possesses my heart