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

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!!