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

The Dark Hunter

I like to peep in through your window,
During the darkest dead of night.
To watch you tucked up snug in bed,
I truly love the sight.

During the day you walk right past me,
You never smile or return my ‘hello,’
But nighttime will be here so soon,
To shroud the little secrets only I know.

Last night I climbed in through your window,
And crept around your place,
I moved a couple of your things around,
I carefully touched your face.

Tonight I will return to you,
While you’re warm and safe in bed,
I’ll spend a little time deep inside of you,
But I’ll forever be in your head.

Gods Autobiography

When I was born, it was in a book
Nobody knew my name or how I looked
But they all knew I felt nothing but love
And I’d watch them from my kingdom up above
They even took one of their own and named him my son
When he was born is when time began
If anything happens, it’s cause of me Oh Well
And if I don’t like you then you’re going to hell
Over the years they think they’ve proved me
By showing all the people who died or talked to me
No matter what happens
They think proof lies in nails through the wrists
It’s getting me pissed
But I’m not really saying this
Cause I don’t exist…

This is to the female who e-mails me.

This is to the female who e-mails me with almost impossible sexual demands and then becomes angry and aggressive when I don't answer.


The demands of which you ask sound good,
But I just don't think my body could,

Serve you in the manner, of which you ask,
It just seems like such a massive task…

I've even considered all the positions you suggest,
And even made note of the ones you like best,

And I'm sure that last one would keep me fit,
But should I slip then I'm in deep shit.

…and you have a big arse.

I loved that photo of you in the bask,
But I have to pluck up courage to ask,

Maybe if you should wear a fuckin' mask,
Then I might just be up for the fuckin' task.

But let me be honest, I do find you scary,
I've never seen a girl with arms so hairy.

And your knuckles they appear all rough, scratched and sore,
But I guess this is because they drag on the floor.

Well at least with you I wouldn't need to pace,
To stop myself coming I simply glance at your face.

But my penis it would shrivel to the size of a maggot,
And you'd insult me and swear and call me a fagot!

You asked me once if I found you eye-catching,
And I answered that it might help if both eyes were matching.

And it might just help if you have a snip,
To stop your nose reaching your lower lip.

You said in your last mail that you'd 69 me,
Then ride me and screw me and finally blow me.

And although the thought has my little heart beating,
You can still forget us ever meeting!!

How to be a rock star!

Living in a house with other people often means that they may be watching television while you do other things. If there is one thing I like the least about the tube, it is reality shows. I will admit that there has been one exception: Gene Simmons: Family Jewels. I have noticed that there are qualities about him that I heartily approve of. In fact, if followed carefully, anyone can be a rock star…or just act like one…even if only in his or her mind. So, pay your tuition, buy your books and get on the bus. This is the Gene Simmons School of How to be a Rock Star: Minus Shannon Tweed. School's in session.

You may have noticed…Gene Simmons is butt ugly. Yet, he has successfully, if he is telling even half the truth, bedded thousands of women. He is now enjoying unwedded bliss with the queen of soft-core porn herself, Shannon Tweed. How does he do this? Easy…Gene Simmons knows that he is the sexiest thing on the planet. What happens when a butt ugly man truly believes that he is the sexiest thing on the planet? He becomes sexy. His opinion of himself is so strong and unquestioned, that he effects how everyone else sees him. Gentlemen, looks are not important. Self-confidence is. We quite literally project a view of ourselves that others see. If you really want to be irresistible, convince yourself first. If you can delude…I mean enlighten yourself, the rest is cake. The truth is, the vast majority of people are so concerned with how others see them that they will accept the image you project.

The other side of Gene's many conquests coin is that he sees every woman as beautiful. If you ask him if he has ever seen an ugly woman, he will say "no".

The demon bat from Hell is also unabashedly materialistic. He uses his greed. He realizes that there is absolutely no reason anyone should be ashamed of his or her success. The herd has never learned this. Charity organizations grow fat off of the guilty fat of the land. It is ingrained into society that the love of money is the root of evil. It is not. If you have earned the chicken, you are the only one who has the right to eat it down to the bone.

Gene also knows that the life of the rock star is best enjoyed in one's right mind. He does not drink. He has never used recreational drugs, to the best of my limited knowledge. He does not smoke. Yes, I enjoy the voice of Ozzy Osbourne; but, I was often ashamed to be of the same species with someone who tried to find out how much shit he could pack into his body, and still doter on. The spoils can only be enjoyed if you are around long enough to enjoy them.

I have also noticed that Mr. Simmons surrounds himself with people who love him. I am going to make a statement that may, or may not, go over well. The Satanic life requires a solid foundation. Whether we consider ourselves social or not, we all have our own unique needs. If your foundation is solid without a love interest, this may not apply to you. But if not…and I readily confess that I am one who has that need, we do well to keep those meaningful relationships close. There are times I find compromise beneficial in meeting my needs and desires. Stubbornness will assure the only dates I get are with Hanna and her five sisters. That does not even consider my emotional needs. On the other hand, there have been relationships in which I was lonelier when I was with the person than not. It was better when I cut those off, and spent quality time in solitude. But still, I found the occasional camaraderie to be beneficial. It was up to me to see those needs met.

The bass player for Kiss is, above all else, a master at selling himself. I grew up listening to him. I still listen to him. I will probably always enjoy listening to Kiss. Guess what? Their music is mediocre, at best. But he turns it into one big party. He is selling an image. Gene Simmons may be, either knowingly, or unknowingly, one of the greatest magicians I have ever witnessed. A man takes inferior music, cheesy stage antics and a big ass bag of "I know exactly what I want, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to get it", and you have a great success story. Pure magic…a true rock star. The power of mental, emotional and physical focus is great. The ability to stay the course is key. Those qualities can turn anyone into a rock star, or to feel like one.

Now…I cannot promise that you will end up with a babe as hot as Shannon; but there is a lot to learn about the power confidence, sexuality and sobriety to be had.

Now…where did I put that Love Gun album?

You cant top a good toper. (what really happend to mannhood)

Whatever happened to the days when a man could be a man? When did we stop playing chin music when a cat cracked wise? How have we lost our right to grab a dame and plant one on the kisser? Just when did we lose our cool?

I know exactly when. It happened when we stepped out of the shadows, dropped our gasper and took off the lid. That's right; men stopped being men when they lost the hat. Sorry, gents, but you just aren't well dressed without that topper. And, civility is stuffed into the back of the closet, with the fedora.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, why did Ilsa Lund walk into Rick Blaine's? Would I be pushing it if I suggested that it was his hat? Would Indiana Jones seem half as adventurous without that exquisite covering for his pate? I think not. From firemen, to police officers, a cowboy to chefs, a man's place in this world is known from glancing at his headgear. And believe me, size counts. In fact, a man is never so tall as when he is wearing a chapeau. That necessary accessory turns even a mundane task into an event. Like every other animal in the kingdom, it's the deer with the largest antlers that get the best does. The right headdress can add inches to any frame.

Image is everything. Consider the fact that it is quite often the man with the most height who is elected into office, made the CEO and sought after by the ladies.

A hat is also an item of magic. Any dupe can look like a first class thinker, wearing the right hat. It is as if there must be some great secret hidden in the gray matter, if it is important enough to keep warm; and with such style. If clothes make the man, it is the hat that will carry him to new heights. The hat is to the sexy male, what the high heels are to his female counterpart. A real man may want to die with his boots on; but it's the right hat that will get him bedded for the night with the most fetching filly. Who knows? He who wears the greatest head ornaments may power evolution. Just ask the cowboy or sailor who finds himself in a strange town. He will be keeping someone's bed warm, I can tell you that. Face it…the hat is just plain sexy. Right ladies?

There are a plethora of hats to choose from. Charlie Chaplin championed the Bowler. Clint Eastwood sported the cowboy hat. Johnny Depp can often be seen in a Fedora. There are pointy hats, slouch hats and sun hats. Fred Astaire danced in a top hat. Honest Abe wore the same topper. Even Alice Cooper and Marilyn Manson have gotten in on the act. The Blues Brothers donned the Trilby; proof that the hat adds to cool. How much would the Shadow really know if he was bare of head? In A Clockwork Orange, Alex just would not be Alex without his fetching bowler. Would Cowboy Clint have been able to paint the town red without that cowboy hat on his head? Not with style.

I can stand a man who has bad manners, but not a man who has bad taste. If there is one thing that screams distinction, it's the choice of the right hat. Need to make her laugh? Act the clown in a bowler. Want to sweep her off her feet? Try a five o'clock shadow under a brown Fedora. Feel like bumming around in style? Try a slouch hat, chinstrap and all. Need that little something extra that says, "Bring it on"? Try the hardhat on for size. Just do me this one small favor. Never…under any circumstances call a baseball cap a hat! Caps are for kids. Baseball, stocking or beanie; nothing says I never grew up like a cap. Consider the overgrown boy who, at six feet tall, still wears his baseball cap with brim sticking behind. Hats are for men. That is what gave Robert Mitchum the power to smoke, drink, and cuss, grab the dames and fight like hell and look good doing it. That's right…you never get cancer if you wear your hat while smoking. And it looks cool as hell if you smoke in a shadowed alley, packing heat with a flask of booze, giving an inner monologue about how your heart was broken by a dame with a hot set of wheels…as long as you are wearing the right hat.

So stop walking around naked men, proudly cover your heads with the right attire, and the world will be your oyster.

An open letter to Christian Drive-By Posters.

We have all seen them. In any forum that dares not be Christian, the Christian drive-by poster is not far behind. It is easy to dismiss this as the height of rudeness, which it is. But, it occurs to me that such behavior is also against the very creed these ambushers claim to hold dear. Do they not have examples of shaking the dust from their feet, and not casting pearls before swine?

I wrote the following open letter to such misdirected individuals, using their own language. The ideas are not my own. I have used their ideology as a backdrop.

If you have ever been annoyed by such stupidity, you may enjoy reading this. Without further ado, I present…


AN OPEN LETTER TO CHRISTIAN DRIVE-BY POSTERS


Have you ever gotten lost in the woods? I have...on several occasions. Many have been the times that I went on for, what seemed, hours. I was convinced that the great distanced covered guaranteed I was moving closer to my destination.

Sadly, I often found familiar points of interest, realizing that I had wasted much time and energy, only to stand on the same ground I had started from. Drive by poster, you are lost. You are lost in the woods, and you are standing on the same plot of ground you were standing on the first day you posted here.

I tell you this, because my God frowns upon my wasting time. My God wants me to use my time wisely, so that I can become all that my potential will allow. I would assume that your God feels the same way. Perhaps your God has lower expectations of you than mine does of me. I really do not know. But, if Jesus went to all of the trouble to crawl his way out of Hell, it seems a waste of his blood for you to spend your time where you are not wanted. You have become a monkey for our amusement. What kind of testament is that for someone whom the Almighty has redeemed? Are you not casting your pearls before swine? While it appears to me that you are slinging shit before steeds, I will not quibble concerning animal type. How will you feel when you stand face to face before your God? I know that I can stand tall when I face mine. I saw him today, when I looked in the mirror. How about you?

Go! Shake the dust from your sandaled foot. Be not found in the house of mockers. No one is deceived by your deceptive words. You are an empty shell. You find yourself so unworthy that you must fawn before the rotted feet of a long dead god. By your own admission, you are an unworthy whelp. I find your kind beneath my contempt. Speaking from one side about how unworthy you are, and gloating in your superiority from the other. You are a liar.

Go away. We have heard the clucking of the loons before. You are not any different. You will earn no brownie points by hiding behind a screen name and typing banalities.

Just go away.

Satan Helps those who help themself.

It remains a common misconception that the Satanist lives in a state of reluctance when it comes to helping others. It is not so much that we Satanists begrudgingly help people in need of our assistance, but rather that we carefully discriminate to decide exactly who is worthy of our help. Why should I help someone that will not — or sometimes cannot — help themselves when there are many deserving people involved in my life who are benefiting me in some way and are striving to succeed?

The short answer is that I shouldn't, and if I can prevent it, I won't.

Wasting one's time on the dross in society is a seemingly Christian concept and is repugnant in every form. Satan supports achievers and hard-grafters: those wonderful individuals who either achieve, or endeavour to achieve, putting in every ounce of effort they can muster. These people are, in a way, part of our tribe, and it is they who will benefit from my time and resources.

There is another facet to this question of exactly who is worthy and who is not:

Nature.

Take the saviour of Africa, Sir Bob Geldof as possibly the best example. What Sir Bob continually fails to recognise, is that regardless of who is to blame for the dire state of affairs many Africans are faced with, he and his army of lefties are actually creating more pain and suffering with their efforts to throw cash at a deteriorating situation. The original Live Aid in the 80's witnessed musicians from all over the world gathering in many different countries to put on a show, raising funds to feed starving Africans, resulting in more dying folk than ever before. Africa is a climate riddled with skirmish and poverty and many of the affected have little or no education, creating a situation where they are in no position to contribute anything to the world aside from starving babies.

If this sounds harsh, it probably is. But, too much of the wrong sort of help is stifling the progression of the human race.

As I have said, I understand the complexities of assessing where the blame lies, but the bottom line is that by funding these unfortunate people, temporarily feeding them with western money in a weak attempt to offer some form of compensation, those nature would have killed off naturally are able to survive and reproduce.

And what has happened 20 years after the event? Well, you now have many more mouths to feed and the funds have run-out. Geldof's answer to this escalated problem? Hold another concert! Moron! I say let nature take its course. The current generation would die out to a level where their sun-scorched, war torn continent could support the next generation without constant funding from westerners.

I am of the opinion that larger contexts ALWAYS subsume smaller contexts. This simple law suggests that helping local villagers is irrelevant and pointless if the larger political structure is likely to undo the good done sooner or later. Like a drug addict who also ingests vitamin tablets in hope of combating the harm done to his body by his drug habit, logic says he would be better off quitting the drugs.

The historic situation in Madagascar shows that the best, simplest, easiest and most cost effective way to effect positive change for those truly innocent of blame and helpless in the face of disaster is a simple change in leadership and attendant change in political philosophy.

For decades Madagascar was run by a highly corrupt Marxist dictator named Ratsiraka.

The French colonialists had achieved a great deal over a century of mildly oppressive rule, such as roads, airports, schools and power plants. The basic infrastructure withered and decayed quickly under Ratsiraka.

Eventually, Ratsiraka was replaced in a bloodless coup (a result of a rigged election he fairly won but was told he lost) by a fervently pro-capitalist, pro-business, pro-free market politician named Ravalomanana. He has since put rebuilding Madagascar's infrastructure far ahead of hand-outs for the poor, with the result that Madagascar has the brightest future of any country on the Bottom 20 of the UN Quality of Life List.

My point is that by removing the inept (although friendly to the West) scumbags in charge of Africa, replacing them with pro-business, pro-capitalist, 'friendly to the West' leaders, only then will Africans have a chance of turning things around.

Taking all this into account, the Africa scenario is a classic example of how those who cannot help themselves, are not necessarily benefiting from our help (and in this specific case shouldn't be helped until the political climate of their continent is 'fixed').

Moving on, a sound example of those who should receive no help based on the fact they the will not help themselves are almost all thinkable examples of criminal. Thanks to the Christians, we live in a culture that champions rehabilitation, overlooking fitting punishment. Why should we help those who would have a negative impact on our lives and the lives of those we care about? Specimens of human garbage should be treated as such. Governments should either put them to work or dispose of them by other means. A friend of mine once suggested medical testing on the more serious offenders: An idea I like very much. I refuse to give credence to the notion that criminals are worthy of my help and I'm pretty pissed-off that my compulsory taxes work to proliferate examples of this abuse of human decency.

The final example I wish to focus on in this essay are the world's benefit cheats. I used to work for a large financial institution, and while in the work's canteen one day, I overheard two female employees discussing how one of them had a child and how the money paid to her by the government child would overtake her salary should she become pregnant again. She then went on to explain how she was persistently and intentionally piercing her partners condoms in hope of tricking him into fathering another fund-raiser.

The sad thing is this must happen a lot. The benefit system is regularly raped by the lazy at the tax-payers expense. Whilst I am sure that there are those deserving of help from government, I am also convinced that it is far too easy to abuse this system.

I have learnt that it is most important to look after yourself, your loved ones and those who you respect, and fuck the rest! If mankind observed this simple rule as I do, the weak and/or insignificant could possibly even die out, and evolution could potentially speed up.

The idea that everything and everyone is deserving of help and compassion on some level seems to be ingrained in modern human behaviour, but the clear truth is that the majority of humans have got this one wrong.

It's time for people to wise up, or stay in this perpetual state of mass-ignorance at mankind's peril.

Sleep - those little slices of death, ohh how I loathe them...

Sleep - those little slices of death, how I loathe them.
~Edgar Allen Poe

Life is something that happens when you can't get to sleep.
~Fran Lebowitz

Dawn: When men of reason go to bed.
~Ambrose Bierce


If you are reading this sometime after midnight, and you have to get up in a few hours, we probably have at least one thing in common; we experience some form of insomnia. Just as the devil is the church's best friend, insomnia is the best friend of drug companies. I suspect that, other than painkillers, insomnia is the primary reason for most drug purchases. It is said that most people suffer, or will suffer, from some form of insomnia, at some time during their lives.

I do not "suffer" from insomnia. In fact, I am hard pressed to claim that I experience this malady. All I know is that, since early childhood, I have almost always been the last person in the house to go to sleep. I figure that I average five and six hours of sleep a night. Very often the number is four. If I get seven or more, I tend to be irritable the next day. There are nights I get as few as three or four hours of rest. Two or less, and I call out of work. Of course, this does not count the catnaps I now and then take. Generally, a thirty to forty five minute nap, after dinner, anywhere between two and four nights a week. That seems to be all I need. I assume I dream; but, I rarely remember them.

There is really no organic cause of my nocturnal nature. I feel it is just that: my nature. If I do not go to sleep, it is simply because I like to stay awake. I feel I will miss out on something rather important. Besides, having about fifty percent more awake time can be very helpful. To put it simply, I loathe sleep.

There is always some mental work that can be done, lying quietly at night, while the day world slumbers. There is very, very important mental work. At the age of six, this work consisted of imaging what the neighbor girl looked like naked. At the age of ten, after having been shown, by the neighbor girl, what she looked like naked; I graduated to a particularly attractive teacher. After finding my father's gentlemen's magazines, my important mental work turned to more technical matters; like, just how the hell do I get "this" into "there". As you can see, I have always been a deep thinker. My mind also went to more philosophical concerns. I thought up such gems as, if God is always watching me, does he look away when I go to the bathroom? If the soul is in my body, if I drive too fast, will it fall out and get left behind?
And, of course, if I concentrate real hard, can I astral project into the bedroom of the girl next door? I still find it useful to work out issues in the wee hours.

I have developed a theory, wishful thinking, I am sure, that the need for little sleep is a sign of higher intelligence. Consider the influential names that fall under that category.

Jay Leno gets four hours of sleep a night. I assume he is thinking about his monologue, guests he would like to have on the show, and what the woman next door looks like unclothed. Thomas Edison, and his team also slept very little. Madonna is an insomniac. I say that because she lays awake worrying, at night.

Florence Nightingale slept only four hours a night. That is the price, I guess, for having your name become a byword. Michelangelo was also in the short-sleepers club. Though I would suggest it was not the neighbor's wife that he found distracting. Napoleon Bonaparte planned world domination instead of wasting his time on sleep. Winston Churchill got six; but supplemented this with a two-hour nap. What a lazy bones. It is claimed that Nikola Tesla got only two hours of sleep a night, with several catnaps. It is also believed that he was narcoleptic, and slept with his eyes opened. So, who can really tell how much he got? Leonardo Da Vinci slept fifteen minutes every four hours. I envy that.

Margaret Thatcher and Martha Stewart each get four. Though, I would assume Martha got less while in the slammer. Whether running a dynasty or a country, there are bound to be heavy issues on one's mind. I am guessing none of them include nudity. So, you see; I am in good company. Call it insomnia if you will; but all I know is that there is plenty of time to sleep after you die.

These days, I find myself lying awake, thinking of things to write. I am not surprised. I have noticed that my sleep generally decreases that happier I am. I have been sleeping very little, of late.

So...Rise up! Cast off that victimizing label of insomniac! Embrace your inner naughty child, and defy bedtime! Leave sleep to those who have nothing better to do.
But they better be wearing pajamas, because...

I'm very curious.

Hail Harry Potter!

Well folks, it's official. The Christians have, once again, come to their senses, and decided to take their lead from the Devil. It works every time. Do you have a product that is not worth its weight in shit? Are you having trouble convincing your tall strapping lads to keep their hands, dicks, and even minds off of the firm attributes of their sisterly counterparts? Does your reward system of endless monotonous fawning not have enough pizzazz to convince the masses to pick up their devices of death, and follow the King of Losers to the gallows? Well, try fooling the wretched ingrates with these tried and true methods of carnival proportions. Let them have their cake, bingo nights, and righteous rock and roll; and, for a limited time only…their very own, way cool, magical heroes!!!

You would think that Lord of the Rings would be enough. Not any more. How can they possibly compete with a fantasy world that is way cooler, hipper, and, now that Emma Watson is reaching legal age, a whole lot prettier than walking trees and hobbits. In a word…they are nervous. And they should be.

The Harry Potter series is every bit as dangerous to their simplistic black and white mentality as they think it is. Allow me to elaborate.

One major differential found in the Harry Potter books and movies is that it takes place in the real world. The backdrop is not some far off land, in a time lost, on who knows what world. It takes place in modern times, among modern people in a modern city. The students may go to Hogwarts School, but they live among muggles. Muggles are the "others"…we would call the non-Satanic folk. There are rules set into place to keep the muggles from discovering that there are magic folk living among them.

In the world of muggles, there are places hidden to the muggle eye, known only by the magic folk. The magic folk enter the ritual…I mean…magical world, where they do their important magical work.

Magic folk are not magic folk, by birth. Remember that point…it is very important. Some magical parents do, indeed, give birth to magical folk; but, there are some very magical characters (remember the soon to be adult co-star) whose parents are not magical. It is on an individual basis. You are either born magical, or you are not. You can train to maximize your potential; but you cannot convert. That, in and of itself, is enough to keep this series from being "Christian".

There is really no morality in the series. There is using magic to survive among the muggles. There is magic to help you in your daily life. There is magic to protect yourself with. There is no real sense that there is some "higher purpose" in the magic. They do magic because they can.

There are even curses. True, these are forbidden; but, if you look very carefully, there is the sense that these are forbidden to keep magicians from randomly zapping anyone who pisses them off. While "forbidden", they are taught. Not to the rank and file, but those who have shown themselves to be a sufficient maturity and character are clearly "above the law". That one is a sticky point, because I am inferring this from the general tone; so, I will not argue if someone disagrees on that point. Let's just say that this is not"turn the other cheek" magic.

There is an obvious stratification with the magical world. No one is allowed to rise to the level of his or her incompetence. A wizard is not a wizard if he cannot pass the wizard tests. If he fails to pass, he will have to be satisfied filing paperwork for an accomplished witch.

This stratification is also seen in choosing which house an individual student will live in. To make sure the proper placement is made, a scientific device, called a sorting hat, is used. The hat is placed on the student's head, and it sings some ditty, giving the name of the house they belong in…because of their innate natures.

Here, I will pause. There are four houses the School of Magic and Wizardry; Ravenclaw, Huflepuff, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Of those four houses, it would be easy to mistake the House of Slytherin as being evil, bad, and anti-Christian. I mean…hello! Their crest is a snake.

If you read the series carefully, it becomes perfectly clear that the House of Slytherin is, above all others, the house of the wisest, strongest and ablest witches and wizards. They have the skill and cunning to survive. They seem to be in touch with the parts of themselves that we call dark, which we Satanists know is the source of our power. Ruthless, brutal and in no danger of getting the shit end of the evolutionary stick.

Consider something else; When Harry Potter sat on the stool, and had the sorting hat placed upon his head, the House that the hat was about to announce was the House of Slytherin. When Harry heard the hat come to that conclusion, he said, "No…Gryffindor"; to which the hat replied, "Alright then, Gryffindor".

My personal thought on this is that we are going to find out that a Slytherin can fit in any of the other Houses; but, a member of another House could not survive in the House of Slytherin. That is just my opinion. We shall see.

Now…Remember when I said it was important to remember that magical people are born; yet, it is not genetic? The reason the "bad guys" are from the House of Slytherin has nothing to do with being from the House of Slytherin. The bad guys are the bad guys because they are trying to destroy the School of Magic and Wizardry because it allows mudbloods. Mudbloods have either no magical parents, or one parent who is not magical. They are trying to create a new School based on the belief that entrance should be based on birthright. I wonder…Is there a group, in our world, which believes that leadership in the Church of Satan should be based on birthright? And, being ignored by the School…I mean Church of Satan, have formed their own group. And, has said group done things to try to bring an end the Church their fathers once supported? I wonder…

That, in a nutshell, is the source of all the conflict in the Harry Potter series. It is not a fight of good versus evil It is a fight between the idea that being magic is based on the individual proclivities of the individual and the belief that one's heritage should determine who runs the show.

Witches, wizards and magical folk, I rest my case.

Insanity.

I am such a fool...
to be in love.
You're bothering me,
but I didn't ask you to stop.

No one is perfect,
yeah I know...
I'm sinner,
in your eyes it shows.

Stupidity is a sin,
for you it's not.

I'm such a fool
to believe if it's true.
his' words, his' kindness,
you're telling me that he's good as new.

What the curse I care,
if I'm not like that.
I'm living in a life
that much perfect than a flat.

I'm better than him...
that's what I see.
I wont thank to your God,
if you'll agree.

I'm insane...
aye, a vision for your eyes that cares.
But, if you'll look deeply,
your world is impaired.

Shape.

Don't force me to praise that statue,
don't tell me that I'm wrong with my virtue...

I got my own shape and you got yours.

I live my life in my beautiful world,
freedom, freedom... more freedom!

Don't judge a book by it's cover,
my life is revolving on a black flower.

Why don't you look at your corruptive belief?
Why don't you judge the religion you live?

For ya'll we are sinners,
for ya'll we are hopeless,
and for ya'll we are stupid as shit.

You're wrong! Indeed! So wrong!
your's are done while ours still stand!

Why don't you open your eyes?!
Foolish animals, ya'll believe in lies!

Writers Block!

I am a creator. I enjoy writing, arranging words into stories or
poetry, making occasional visual art or forcing myself to evaluate
and explore ideas from the most angular and unheard of perspective that I can.

All this comes from the same place.
It is a particular state of mind, my creative mode.
When I am on track to making something work it is like a whirlwind
of energy and inspiration. It is at times like this that I create
my best music or write my best lines or understand something
beyond my normal perception.

In whatever it is that I am doing the mental energies
just keep building as the creation takes shape
until I have fully realized it, then with the realization I get a
sort of release and feel very elated.
(On a side note...) I often wonder what is medically happening
with this as well because many a time I felt like there were
chemical changes in my body during and after the creative process.

Well, lately I have been going through another creative fury and
all this crap just keeps pouring out of me.
The only problem is that I cannot get
that 'realization' that I had so many times before.
It's like I have the full picture in view but its out of
focus. It's very frustrating to feel so inspired but unable to
correctly execute the impulse. I think this problem I am having is
what many call writer's block.
And it certainly is frustrating.


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