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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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New possibilities, new doorways, were opened up in the wake of the great strife. The world was ready for a new dawn, it seemed. A powder keg ready to blow, to sweep aside the pretenses of the civilized world, and bring something far more splendid. I salute that madman who took aim at that archduke, spraying cranial gore everywhere, and so it was. The chips were down. No more rules. It was the state of nature, the object of Hobbesian fear, having regained primacy once again in our lives. But it was not all doom and gloom. Nay, I think it was quite the opposite. Think of it like…dead trees, fallen trees, old, elderly, worn out trees, having long reached their expiration date, being taken away in a captivating inferno, swallowed up by a blaze that, whilst fearsome in the moment, would prove to do more good than bad. T’was a chance to start anew, perhaps. Oh yes, it was. For no one had seen anything like this before, and it was determined to take everyone and everything with into The Pit.

Oh, how glorious it could’ve been, in the aftermath.

It did show promise, indeed.

Father against father, brother against brother. Kin against kin. A race cannibalizing and eating itself alive. Not to worry, though. These folks were long overdue for a lowering into the grave, and everything they stood for being thrown into it with them. Scores of bodies piling up several feet. Efficiency had made killing a mere triviality. Land destroyed, soaked in blood, flesh, bone, grime, fire, soot, tar, and lorded over by the stench of rot and decay, the stench of bodies baking in the sun, or festering in the cold. Towns and cities, even famous ones, now flattened, leveled, devastated with relentless and savage hatred in the hearts of the various war machines being put to use. Libraries, museums, pubs, clubs homes/manors/estates, art galleries, banks, churches, streets, towers, farms, all of them…gone. Borders meant jack shit. Words were long gone. Now was the time to speak only in lead, artillery, gunpowder, and steel. Morality was skewered in the slaughterhouse. God, family, tradition, blood relations, ideology order, where was it? Certainly not here.

This was the chance, for us dreamers of the dark. The sinister. That which they name as perverse, making mothers clutch their pearls in horror, gasping with eyes wide, and fathers shake their heads, worried for the sanity of his offspring.

Because everything was falling, and it deserve to be pushed down even further, even faster.

What a delight it would’ve been to see everything gone, all that we loathe, even those who profess to do the exact opposite.

Alas, that was not the case.

I should’ve known, but, when this great ordeal severed all bonds between fellow humans, seeing it for myself, I could only feel hopeful.

Invisible enemies invaded the mouth and nose, shredding the lungs, and incinerating the skin. Machine gun fire, roaring and full of rage, turned men into Swiss cheese. Tanks crawled alongside comparatively puny riflemen, pilotable cannons turning would-be fortresses and stubborn encampments into ash piles and smoldering wrecks. Portable ordinance, able to be adjusted in terms of the angle they fired at, lobbed shell after shell, cratering the ground and liquefying any nearby souls. Roaring engines, shaped like wooden tubs, with wings like birds, made mincemeat of each other in the air, and us on the ground. Water-bound fortresses the size of several small buildings murdered and pilfered coastlines and rival aquatic castles, with cannons as big as automobiles.

Even our “homes” were not safe. Rats, mosquitoes, maggots, crows, and other pests gnawed at us incessantly, as if we were already dead. Microscopic assassins caught us at our weakest moments, turning the fittest of us into frail husks, unable to even move a measly few feet. Dirt and water turned our skin into our own worst enemies. To drink and eat was to ingest poison, and to not do so, that meant suffering self-cannibalism. And the sights we’d see…we’d surely never forget. The screams. The smells. The noises. The endless number of bodies. The mangled steel and the butchered infrastructure. How could we forget? Sleep was never going to be the same for any of us again. If we could even sleep at all.

It showed the marks of a true upheaval. An end to all things. The sign of an era that was now nailed into a coffin. All things fetid, dull, hollow, the sham of what we call “existence”, it should’ve stopped here, no?

How could anything live after this? How could we go back to business as usual? The rapture had come. The end times were here. If anyone wanted proof of the apocalypse, then all one had to do was simply look outside, all around you.

I think we had come to realize a lot of things, in this rather short period of time.

The pretenses we upheld, this mystical notion that we were somehow more evolved, all of these were dashed in an instant. We found them to be strikingly fragile. When calls for blood overwhelmed our reason and logic, it suddenly appeared that we weren’t as prim and proper as we’d like to think. Christ was gone, and in his place, Mars reigned supreme. Now we were not so above the world of tooth and claw. All else became error. To think we were better than that, was now a foolish notion. Civilization was a carefully maintained dream, but it was in these moments, we realized that it was a dream we’d have to wake up from. It couldn’t go on for forever. It wouldn’t. It was impossible. The comfort, the security, it was all taken away. By our own hands, ultimately. Who would’ve thought?

I’ll certainly never know what “normalcy” feels like, never again. Petty conversations and debates, laws and rhetoric to back up said laws, manners, social conventions, it was all…window dressing. It wasn’t real. If it was real, then it was as easy to destroy as fine china.

All of it was a hilariously shaky way of keeping the beast at bay.

To think that the cathedral would stay standing for all eternity…that was optimistic boulder dash. It was a house of cards, and all it needed…was one good wind gust to blow it all down.

I was certain it couldn’t ever be rebuilt. It’d be about as useful as tying strings around the limbs of a corpse and moving it like a puppet.

Force and valor were the only things that had any meaning. The only guarantor that one could hope to rely on. Freedom is won this way, and freedom is maintained this way. In the realm of absolute freedom, as this happened to be, for me at least, this is all that keeps one alive, and assures any kind of safety. For without the state, you’re out in the open. And we all run on instincts at that point.

It would appear that man saw the side of itself that it’s always trying to suppress. The ever-present, always-lurking shadow. Man let it out, freed it from its cage, let it dominate. Naturally, the shadow did as the shadow always does. Primal ferocity was unleashed, and devastation followed in its wake. It spread and spread, the shadow blanketing humanity, a chain reaction leading to every people, every tribe, sprouting fangs once again, and a storm disrupted the calm skies that normally permeate the hearts of men. Fires surged within, quelled and tempered for far too long, and the blood of people boiled. Frenzied madness became the order of the day.

I know mine certainly came out. Every time my bayonet went through a man’s chest, or I emptied my magazine into an enemy regiment’s men, or the sounds of death and destruction came from my own hands, I felt as if I was God himself. I was above all. Nothing was my master. Nothing except myself. The only thing stopping me was my might. I reveled in my cruelty and delighted in my bloodlust. I’m not entirely sure why I even felt the way I did. I had no special hatred for these men, or their homeland. I had no particular attachment to my own kin, or place of birth. Nevertheless, it felt so wonderful to let the carnal, gnashing whirlwind of vitriol stored up deep inside me loose upon everything. That repressed pitch-blackness that was always caged, and when it was stirred, when it smelled blood, it threw itself against the walls and doors, desperate for release. Man is both God and Devil, and every man has a monster in him. Some just choose to acknowledge it. Even let it out when it demands. Others? They keep it chained up. And usually, it doesn’t manage to take over. However, there are times when it does, so pent up.

Mankind had opened a gateway, a nexion, if you will, to dark forces. Forces we likely were not meant to know. Not the lot of us. All of which instilled a collective insanity in the human species. Whether or not that was intentional, I cannot say. A plethora of, to our feeble minds and soft brains, malicious…things…lurked out in the immaterial, where not even space and time manage to penetrate. By this act, this collective force of will to bring the rapture upon Earth, mass murder both ritualized and spontaneous, we not only caught their attention, but we aided them in making this place a lot more sinister. A lot more vicious. Those pagan deities, having always existed, only taking on different forms and different names throughout the ages, yet still being worshipped in their own ways, directly or indirectly, they are…here. It’s impossible to describe them. All that can really be said is…we sacrificed many for them, and in turn, we, knowingly or not, began to evolve in a certain direction. Beyond the throes of the past, and the present, and into something that reflected our true nature. Harnessing some of their power (though it did not come without a price, a heavy cost, as you may have inferred) that they bestowed upon the more favorable of us, the establishment, that is to say, the old ways, the exalted paths, the values and the forms they took, which we held, dogmatically, fanatically, to be sacred, while not defeated, sadly, was further marched to its inevitable doom.

The Faustian man was held back, and in all this, I recognized it. I mourned it, for the Faustian man would surely perish once again, back into the arms of a sick, suffocating prison.

The great man had an out, here, and potentially there could��ve been an out all over, but the general populace wanted to stay in.

Inside this horrid prison.

This prison we call the West.

The myth of the “brotherhood of man” was shattered. Man is not something which particularly likes itself, as I was shown time and time again. They quarrel over petty differences. I say petty, because while they may show affinity for a culture, or a movement, or a nation/community, they damn sure had no hand in it. They’re much akin to spectators at a sporting event. Cheering on, but not in any way contributing. Sheep tend to look the same, and act the same, even if they look different, and live in a different location. They have a universal behavior. Not to insult actual sheep, that is. I enjoy the presence of lambs and goats and cattle and other bovids infinitely more than the common man who walks down the street. Farm animals a better sight than some rando. Also, a quick side note, flock being led about by a herdsman, who is just as much of a slave as the slaves themselves. The herdsman is owned just as much by the herd as the herd is by their herdsman. It’s more relevant than you think. Anyway, man is not in a position, or in a mindset, to ever be really accepting of that which is different from itself. Will it ever? I doubt it. Man tends to reject anything that doesn’t conform to its notions of “normal”, of “right” and “wrong”. And, to be quite honest, it shouldn’t. The world would be a dull place of everything was put into one giant melting pot. Internationalism, I don’t have an affinity for it. But don’t mistake this for some sort of pride in something abstract. I’m just saying.

Humanity hates itself. I saw it. I even felt it. Man will be the end of man. Humanity will die by suicide, not by external causes. I’m sure of it. Has anything changed much since the war? No, it hasn’t.

The Earth doesn’t seem to like humanity very much either. During the war, it took every opportunity to kill it. Casting it out into the cold elements and natural wilderness it rejected by setting up monolithic centers to block out the dear Mother. Unleashing plague upon plague, sickness upon sickness, because man was thrown back into Nature (most of the fighting was done out in the more open areas, not as much in cities and whatnot), and was woefully unprepared to live within it. Spoiling its sources of nutrition, ruining its mechanical devices. I can’t say I’m surprised, or even unsympathetic. Humanity needed to be knocked down a peg anyway, I think. And it was…for a moment. Plus, when you strike at the Mother, you’re going to have to expect a strike back. It’d be idiotic to think you can just domineer the one who gave birth to you indefinitely.

The Earth was also trying to subtly remind us where we belonged. Where we really belonged.

Everything revolted against humanity. Even humanity itself.

And everything wanted to tear apart what humanity had created. Even humanity itself.

Naturally, the masses were scared by all of this, all of what they saw, and all governments, who are headed by politicians, all of whom are democrats at heart, are, to some extent or another, whether or not they say otherwise, being populist, conserved what was left, and tried to restore what was lost. Pick up the pieces, so the people could live in peace again. They have to placate the whims of the people. Otherwise, they don’t survive. And all governments, all politicians, no matter what they say, are egoists, to some degree. A selfless leader is like a vegetarian wolf. It’s nonexistent.

So, things were brought back to business as usual.

That didn’t last very long, did it?

There were wars in the streets. Bloody battles between those who wanted their nation restored to former glory, frightened by the decay all around them, and those who, to these reactionaries, would only destroy them even further. Which they would, with their leveling materialism, lack of spirituality, and anthropocentric/humanistic approach to life. On the other hand, I’d argue that the nations deserved to be dead, anyway. And, to a degree, there wasn’t much of a difference between the two. Another case of petty squabbling. Like youth-driven gang warfare. Neither could stop the oncoming of the Kali Yuga.

Now, here we are.

The stages set for another war.

People are demanding the blood of other people.

Rabble rousers are happy to give it to them.

Countries are armed to the teeth, all glaring at each other, with guns pointed at one another’s heads.

There is a great feeling that whatever that has passed must be totally discarded and dismembered, to make way for something closer to the truth, a new world. One that is thoroughly unattached to the fetid doctrines of centuries we’ve long since forgotten.

I don’t think them and I want the same things.

Because I want this all gone, but they only want to hop back on the wheel, and simply make what has long since proven to be useless and harmful, work for them.

I truly want it all gone.

Maybe I’ll see it come to fruition.

I doubt it.

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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Anarchists…they’re a funny lot. “Freedom” is their rallying cry, or so they say. Liberty. They repeat the word over and over in reference to their failing worldview. Libertarian socialists, they often call themselves. Holding a monopoly, it seems, on the sacred word “libertarian”, which they are not worthy of at all, I’d say. But, let’s examine that. Because beneath all that talk of having the shackles of authoritarian might released form their ankles, I’d wager that they don’t champion anarchy. Not at all. No, what they want is a variety of…small-scale statism. Municipal statism, as Bob Black would call it. Small-scale Bolshevism, to be precise. The “New Left’s” variety of Bolshevism, anyway. Real Bolshevism, as it manifested, scares them so much that they shirk at the mere mention of Lenin and Stalin (though they are very quick to defend the source of Lenin and Stalin’s ideas). Bolshevism that’s been liberalized, so as to be acceptable and palpable to college kids who have never known anything other than being totally pampered and sheltered their whole lives. Self-determination, freedom of association, that’s not what they want, and subconsciously, they know it. They want order. Order reduced to the size of a small town, a village, a community. A strict, regimented, clear-cut order (to the point of detailing what ro do with the “criminally insane”; and these are the people who shout “ACAB”). Their kind of order, that is. Explicitly defined in the tomes of Bakunin, Kropotkin, Goldman, Malatesta, and the other “Marxists moving in fast forward”. And none other shall be tolerated. No other vision is compatible. As long as they believe hard enough, as long as they wish for it whilst donning their black hoodies and red bandanas, getting into street fights with John Birch wannabes, it will happen. It has to. How could it not? Their gods said it would. Even going as far as to lay it all out for them, giving them a program to work with. A new heaven, in place of the old one. Because, well, let’s face it: they don’t want to be free. And if that be the case, then I say, let them be slaves, either to themselves, or the system at large. We’ll gladly strip them of the title “anarchist”. Or we can abandon that term altogether. It’s been sullied enough.

That’s all besides the point. Not really what we’re here for, and honestly, it’s a bit of a dead horse. It’s not exactly new knowledge, to those of us who really know. However, the rant in the first paragraph does pertain to the actual topic of this piece. One that may rock the boat a bit more, and stir up more controversy.

This idyllic world, this paradise, is all supposed to come from a peaceful, bloodless revolution (where the rich are still eaten, and the cops are still lynched, but otherwise harmless and family friendly; “presenting, The Revolution, come see it for yourself, at your local province, and don’t forget the popcorn, hell, you can join in if you like”), since mutual aid, squatting, economic subversion, protesting, community service/organizing, and volunteer/charity groups alone somehow serve to topple the monolithic Leviathan (not that I have anything against these things, not at all, but I’m not stupid enough to think that freedom is somehow won without some brutality and the will being imposed), and then, after all is said and done, everything still miraculously intact, ready to still be used (even though they were all apparatuses of the state, which they were in total rebellion against…allegedly), everything magically sorts itself out, all falls into place, because human nature (a ghost in itself; hardly as real as anything else that’s been thought up) conforms to their idea that human beings are polite, civilized, altruistic beings who will naturally do the “right thing” (which means no hatred or bigotry, no reactionary or “oppressive” ideals being lived out, no war, no imperialism, no struggle, no discrimination or exclusion (or, if you’re a deluded anarcho-capitalist, then only the kinds you like will take place), rampant egalitarianism (if you’re a libertarian, then rampant equality of opportunity, combined with widespread prosperity), no elitism (populism and democracy for all), no harsh language, no “bad” cultures, no religion, individualism and collectivism will be reconciled (both capitalists and communists hilariously believe such nonsense), no more territorialism or tribalism, everyone will be accepting towards each other and get along just fine, and no irrationality). If they don’t, well, that’s not even a factor, is it? Everyone will do the right thing. Even if they have to bludgeoned into it. Well, not bludgeoned, of course. More like…quietly and democratically convinced. If it doesn’t come to fruition, then the illusion is shattered, their faith is called into question, and they martyr themselves for a hungry, bloodthirsty phantom.

The absolute that they crave is very, very gluttonous. Oh, how it demands, and demands.

Lo and behold, the benevolent dictatorship of the proletariat happens (somehow it happened all over the world, simultaneously, and it all succeeded), and all is well.

Everyone bothered to listen to their proselytizing, their declarations, accepting, along with these sorry bastards, the reality of something that isn’t even there, and is constantly found to be absent, in more ways than the most obvious one.

All they had to do was dress it up as a new faith, since that’s the only way a man can possibly think. And that is not the sarcasm talking. I think the human condition is inclined towards myth. It puts a lot of stock in it. Without which, much of man’s activities would be impossible. Unable to be actualized.

Now, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you why this is all a load of shit. But, I’m going to tell why it is, from an anarchist’s perspective, because liberals, fascists, communists, and other such dullards have already given their multitude of reasons, haven’t they? Now’s not the time for them to speak. The dead should stay dead, after all.

Revolutions, as we all know, are violent, disgusting, merciless, shocking, dangerous affairs. They’re gory. Messy. Traumatic. Not for the faint of heart. People will be strung up from lampposts by nooses. Barrels of guns will be turned on various members of society, of all kinds. Not just government officials, banksters, businessmen, law enforcement, etc. But parents, children, elderly, neighbors, fellow workers, friends, teachers, scientists, doctors, minorities, all will be facing the reaper to some degree. Infrastructure, whether that be medical, communications, entertainment, transportation, economic, electric, will crumble to dust, as a result of being blown apart, since, naturally, you cripple your enemy during a war by attacking their means of waging war. And if it isn’t, it will be abandoned. Falling into states of disrepair. Unable to be brought back, now that the necessary means of keeping it functioning, human or otherwise, are now gone. Once could argue that they’d simply be taken over, but why would that be viable? You’d just create the state all over again. The ownership would’ve just changed hands. Which, one could argue, all revolutions are. Ownership of power being swapped. Not exactly untrue, I think. Manifestations of the “revolution” or “insurrection”, disappointingly, tend to turn out this way. Maybe due to the inherent populism present in both ideas.

True, not every revolutionary will be taking up arms, engaging in raucous slaughter. Some will partake in “direct action”, sabotage and disruption and obstruction of various kinds. Large-scale and small-scale. Attacking the enemy’s methods of carrying out their whims, usually technological, throwing wrenches in their carefully-planned logistics. In a scenario like this, casualties will inevitably result, whether directly or indirectly. Others may disseminate propaganda, fueling the fiery hatred of the rebels, writing words that keep the flames of passionate, unreasonable, fanatical hatred alive, conjuring images on both canvas and page that inspire terror in the foe and lively vigor in the friend, since that’s all this struggle really is, at the end of the day. Another lot may decide to take refuge in the unknown, untouched, untapped reserves of Mother Earth, ignoring and undermining their foe, telling it that, to them, it doesn’t mean shit. Nor will it ever. It can kindly, or unkindly, go fuck itself. Their authority is, to them, null and void. Nonexistent. It’s a sham. They have no need for it, and certainly no want for it. What good is it, in their eyes? It doesn’t represent them. If anything, it does quite the opposite. It has no power over them. And if it thinks, for a second, that it does, then they are willing to show the state that it’s only kidding itself. To stay the fuck away. Only attacking when provoked, like wild animals.

It’s not a secret, I’m sure you can guess, that, for a large part of it being carried out, the revolution, whatever form it takes (a revolution, a real one, cannot be controlled, directed, molded, and shaped, for a revolution is not some laboratory creation made by intelligent men; it is a chaotic affair where all sensibility and good sense man decides to forgo, as war, gratuitous violence, is the revealer of what humans really are), whenever and wherever it decides to happen, why ever it happens in the first place, will be…unsightly. Nasty. Blood will flow through the streets. Cries for more bodies will be sounded. Explosions, gunshots, raging flames, all will be heard and seen throughout the land. Agitated mobs of people, once they’ve decided to cast away the notions of civil behavior, morality, respect, manners, worldly and emotional attachments, and the demands and pleas of various figures belonging to institutions of all stripes, they’ll find themselves back in the so-called “state of nature”. To think that the revolution could be anything but wickedly and devilishly violent, well, that’s absurd.

By the way, the revolution, if it does ever happen, and it happens the way we would like it to, will likely not involve the participation of the many. Not for most of its lifespan. The multitude are too content in their slavery and victimhood to do much of anything about it. You know it’s true. If the marginalized and downtrodden really wanted to make a fuss and stir the pot, they would’ve done so by now. Sheep may express discontent towards their shepherd and the dogs nipping at their heals, but never will they fight back and kick the shepherd’s ass.

If anything, they’d rather just vote in another agitator, a demagogue, a rabble-rouser, who pays lip-service to their cries for relief, only to do the exact opposite when no one’s looking.

This brings me to my second point.

Liberty giving birth to order, as Proudhon put it, will not suddenly come about once the chips have fallen and all is said and done. I’d argue that freedom, real, visceral, perennial, ancient liberty, will not give way to order. Not immediately anyway, and certainly not in some carefully thought-out, well-planned, well-structured manner. You’re kidding yourself if you think that mankind will just suddenly behave itself in the absence of a parental figure (for men, the masses of man, have the mental faculties of young, bratty children).

Now, I don’t think we’ll simply “eat each other” right away, and hardly wholesale. Most of humanity is not bred for sociopathic bouts of rending and ripping flesh. Killing is not a matter to take lightly, and even without the eternal watchman around to provide divine or legal punishment, the mark killing leaves on the psyche is not one that disappears. Otherwise, soldiers wouldn’t come back home screaming in the middle of the night.

But don’t think for one second that things won’t be, to an extent greater than any of us would likely expect (stripping away civilization by itself will prove, for many, to be a brutal adjustment period), painful, miserly, hard, dull, tedious, existentially demanding, and scarring. It’s like taking a dog, who has known nothing but a warm house, a steady stream of food, and tender affection his life, and then casting him into the cold, expecting him to somehow act like all is totally well and good.

There will be conflict. There will be battles, and maybe even full-scale wars. Territorialism and tribalism will be paramount. Imperialism may even be dabbled in. Rape and pillaging and even some sort of perverse slavery may occur.

As a rather erudite fellow once said, peace is a desire; war is a fact. Humanity thrives on conflict, even when there’s nothing to drive it into said conflict. It’s volatile by its own volition.

To try and predict what will happen, much less try and formulate it, make it so before anything has even had a chance to blossom, you’re engaging in a delusion so grandiose, you’ve become a slave to it. Freedom leads to spontaneity. Any attempts to make the future commit to your needs and ideals is fruitless, futile.

And that brings us to the final point I wish to make.

People will naturally band together in the aftermath of society’s collapse, of the downfall of the wretched institutions, the crumbling of civilization, cities and towns and states falling into disarray and disrepair, where ideals and languages and philosophies and religions shatter. Humanity is a social creature, and it tends to seek out others to be around. Usually of like-mind, and, if they’re so inclined, of similar kin. Small communities will form, and maybe seek out other small communities to bond with. Or they may prefer to stay isolated. They might decide to be hostile towards anything and everything, or they might be peaceniks who just want to live uneventful and relatively comfortable lives. Who knows? The possibilities are endless.

Lots of decent, tolerable folks would probably find company that corresponds to how they feel and think, and wish to live. Free love types, psychonauts, nature lovers (both militant and non-militant), queers, vegans, primitivists, simple agrarians, pagans and Satanists, etc.

Yet, the consequence of unrestricted, boundless freedom, much like the consequences of freedom of speech, would be that not-so-nice individuals would form their own factions. Racists of all kinds, whether they be Klansmen, Nazis (or any other fascist for that matter), CSA-worshipping goons, Nation of Islam adherents, hardcore Zionists, or plain-old hatemongers, would have a chance to really revel in what it is they believe. Militant Abrahamics, too. Bigots and intolerant, close-minded chauvinists (misogynists, homophobes, xenophobic nationalists, etc.) of many varieties might find company in those of a similar thought process. They’d all get to live out their lives however they wish. The world would be a truly diverse and…interesting place.

Whether or not one may wish to trample upon them or not, root them out, that’s another story. The only limits one would have are the ones self-imposed. The only by how much strength one or more possesses, and how they are willing to use it, if they wish to.

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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I was born from her!

Crafted meticulously by her hands

And her mind!

Another stunning product

Of her infinite creativity and wisdom!

All whilst providing a vast home

For me, and others like me, to roam!

And she nurtures me, protects me,

Keeps me safe from the harsh elements

Of the dark, deep abyss that lies beyond

Her secure and warm walls!

She gives me everything I need to survive,

Like the loving mother that she is!

Maybe not directly,

But as long as I am strong,

And as long as I am up to the challenge,

She will take care of me!

But it’s not enough…

I want more…

I want so much more…

And a few others that share my views

Want much more, too…

And we’ll force all of the others

To partake in our sick, twisted vision

Of what a “truly” ideal life is…

If they don’t, then they shall perish…

And as we all know,

The will to live trumps all…

I first start

By subjugating her other living creations,

Destroying them as I expand

And take as I please,

Slaughtering them all

As I revel in my insatiable greed,

Becoming the carnal monstrosity I claim to not be,

The forceful cultivation by my hands

And my underlings, who have been brainwashed

To accept my grotesque methods,

Make sure the death does not cease,

Unceremoniously butchering and rending

Our mother’s other children, whom are equally as precious

To her, tearing all non-human creatures asunder

By making them wail, scream, and bleed!

Yet, even all of that

Is not enough

To quench the bottomless bloodlust!

I need to do something

That will truly make our mother

Look upon us all with disgust!

Gouge her,

Dismember her,

Maim her,

Rape her,

Kill her!

Consume all that can be consumed!

Take and take everything she can offer!

And then use it all against her!

Use it all to instead destroy her!

Use her gifts for nefarious

And damnable purposes!

Make her regret ever bringing us

Into her once pristine biosphere!

Make her think that, as soon as we came to be,

The end slowly drew near!

By us, she shall be enslaved!

We shall bring her to her knees

As we force into her our collective girth,

Continuing pillage her all over

Like a marauding disease inside of a walking corpse,

Turning things from bad to worse!

By us, she shall fall into an early cosmic grave!

I am determined to show her

That we cannot be saved!

She’s growing tired…

We’ve provoked her ire

One too many times…

She’ll use everything at her disposal…

Soil, water, air, and fire

To punish us for our crimes…

She needs to discipline us,

The viral pests…

She’s using every last resort

To grant herself a long deserved rest…

A mother that made us

With love in her heart…

Now, in order to save herself, and her other children,

An extinction event she has begun to start…

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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A poisonous impulse grows in your soul...

Taking roots in your spirit,

The desire begins to take its toll...

The most corrupting and wretched

Of forbidden fruits to exist...

You eat it all so eagerly...

You even sip its ripe nectar...

Suddenly, all becomes another way

To live out your libertine fantasies...

Everything is nothing else

But a way to explore

New facets of the dynamic...

Monstrous urges grow strong in your loins,

Prospects of being able to become manic

Reaching a boiling point so frantic,

And a drooling zombie you descend

Into becoming, though you choose

To embrace this, rather than panic...

Everyone becomes another target

Of your disgusting needs and lusts,

Another victim of horrific tragedies...

All detriments derive from your kind...

There is nothing that means anything to you...

No convictions, no beliefs, no code to live by...

Just a husk, that is a slave

To the greatest of drugs...

The all-consuming predilection

Towards the spilling of blood...

Annihilation and subjugation,

This is where it inevitable leads...

The real Untermensch is you,

Yes, even though, in all of your

Boundless arrogance, you thought

Yourself to be the glorious superman...

You are the vile, cruel, heartless collectivism

Incarnate, but from the other side...

You violate the natural order,

Raping it with extreme pride,

As you bind and chain everything

So that it may take your load, too...

Dominance, abuse, punishment,

All are brought forth by your flood...

You manipulate and distort

So you can climb your way

Into the chamber of godhood...

The bestial hedonist is all you are,

A subhuman piece of filth

Who gets off on an arousal

She did not intend for us

To feel, to love, to like...

You thrive off of this addiction...

It is too tempting to not consume...

All becomes acceptable for you to partake in...

No indulgence too great,

No drink too bitter to taste...

You are despicable...

You are a coward as well...

The freedom of all else

Threatens your own,

For the will does not stand

For being replaced, for being

Assimilated, into a new, foreign will...

This is not the way...

Even the animals view this to be degenerate...

They know that it is...

Some of them do…

There is much wisdom in their domain...

You are something else...

Not man, nor beast...

You are not alive…

Nor do you deserve to be…

You are a robotic machine…

You are the root of all degeneracy...

Especially the type you claim

To supposedly rail against and despise...

You lack something inside...

So you look outwards

To be satisfied...

Within you, the drug has injected many lies...

You do not love life, you do not exalt it,

You despise it, and reject it...

You run away from it, not affirm it...

0 notes

fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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If you ever had any doubt as to whether or not communists were the stupidest people on earth, let that doubt be dispelled.

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

Text

In distant eras which have long since

Been passed by the human race

And left in the dust,

There was those who were "above all"

That we all adhered to, fearing at every turn,

As if our life depended on doing so!

Sometimes there were many,

With unique characterizations,

Who were in control of specific facets

Of the observable world,

Residing in realms, environments,

That were beyond anything our eyes

Had ever managed to transcribe unto anything,

So eldritch and otherworldly!

And other times, there was only one,

A personable and all-too understandable one,

Who controlled everything and anything,

From time and space, to the ocean,

Sky, and land, peering into us

At every turn, deciding what about us

Was favorable, and what was not,

And what to do with those who fell

Into one of the two categories!

But now they don't come around so much...

We hear about them less and less these days...

They're all gone, it seems...

Dropping like flies, they die slow, agonizing,

Painfully silent deaths as we forget about them,

Fading away from our collective consciousness...

Which makes an individual wonder...

Were they ever real?

Did they ever really exist?

Were we ever heard by something bigger?

Or did they spring out from our desire

For a meaning to a random, unpredictable

Universe that cares not for its many inhabitants?

Maybe they were our inner voices speaking to us...

Or maybe a byproduct of what we might've ingested

While adventuring through the forests...

I wonder what happened to them...

Maybe it's for the best they're not around anymore...

They didn't sound too appealing...

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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Always clamoring about their voice,

Demanding that they have a choice,

But they hardly can decide what they need or want,

And once that ballot’s cast,

Their stupidity they proudly flaunt…

Many say this is the way to be free,

But that’s only true

If you were born without eyes to see,

Or if you were born without a brain,

If you’re an idiot

Who’s completely insane…

Do you feel free and unchained

Under the weight

Of the stupid herd?

They have no appreciation for anything

Beyond their simple tunes and simple films,

Their vapid books with vapid words…

They’re holding us back,

They’re the reason why there’s a state,

The grinning schmucks placate their whims

And tell how they’re all so great,

Because they really want to be slaves,

To be imprisoned to their graves,

Listen to me when I say they can’t be saved,

And for treading on the truly best, they deserve our hate…

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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A man is planting his foot into the head of another man who has fallen dead on the ground, face first so that it was buried into the somewhat muddy soil, the boot upon the assailant’s foot crushing his victim’s skull, the heel digging into the base of the head, where the spinal cord meets the cranium. A large chunk of flesh had been ripped out of the side of the cadaver’s throat, the external and internal jugular veins no longer in place, having been torn from their proper positions. Blood poured out in droves, seeping out like a rushing river, forming a pool that began to slowly surround the deceased individual being trampled (seemed to be a soldier), the body looking somewhat pale as a result. A rifle lay a few feet away, its magazine spent, the ammunition it had fired having done nothing to stop the bloodthirsty attacker.

The man in question, who committed this homicide, was a tall, slim, yet muscular and toned fellow. Tall, very tall, unusually tall, and despite not being all that bulky, looked to be quite a bit physically larger than the unfortunate bastard who suffered his wrath. His hair was short, jet black, and cut like a mohawk, falling to the right side. A face that was clean shaven, youthful, betraying an age of maybe…30, at the most. Skin as white as the snow surrounding the current scene. His mouth was hung wide open, as wide as it could possibly go, revealing a predatory black hole threatening to swallow everything in sight, revealing two large fangs in the front, a few teeth each away from the center, stained with blood, and the rest of the gaping maw stained with meat chunks, skin, and the iron-tasting crimson fluid that once provided life to the poor sap on the ground. A ferocious, inhuman, horrid sound left this…thing’s…throat, reminding us all that this thing was not human. Not at all. Not when it was possessing eyes as dark as the winter solstice, or coal freshly dug out of a suffocating mine, or the cold, damp, mysterious, innermost recesses of a cave that is well-known, yet hardly explored. Spoken of in hushed whispers and frightened tones of voice. The kind of place where teenagers dare each other to venture. Where people allegedly go missing, and urban legends aplenty surround its existence.

The outfit he had donned for this occasion was interesting. A leather jacket, a plain black shirt, black jeans, a scarf around his neck, and tall, leather combat boots that went up to his calves. A few patches adorned the leather jacket. An algiz rune on the left shoulder, a sonnenrad on the right shoulder, a tyr rune directly over where his heart would’ve once beat, and a totenkopf on the back. On the cuff of the right sleeve, was a small piece of embroidery, forming the words “Me Ne Frego”.

This had all taken place within a deep, dense forest. The air was frigid, the coldest it had ever been here. The trees were stripped bare, leaving only bark, the leaves having rotted off a long time ago. The grass was buried under a blanket of thick, deep frost, and a nearby pond’s surface was now frozen solid, encased in ice. All of the animals were in hibernation, or were trying to eke out some food or shelter in the wintery domain they all called “home”.

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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Everything you touch turns to shit!

Bile and venom are all you spit!

Take a torch to your temples,

And I’ll watch you throw a fit!

Snuff your little villages and cities out, bit by bit!

Inside your soul, there’s a wretched element!

You take something good, something pure,

And thanks to you, that’s the end of it!

By your influence, our world is plagued by degenerates!

Thanks to you, our world is desolate!

There’s something in your heart, there’s something in your head,

That causes decay, like the reaper’s touch,

Stilting flowers that could’ve bloomed, and now thanks to you,

Everything is bereft, hollow, ruined and permanently dead!

Nail you to the crosses, like that man that is one of yours!

Erase you, replace you, dispose of you by the scores!

You are filth, you are flawed,

You are food for which the wolves will gnaw!

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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I’m the one lurking in the darkest hearts,

That thing shoved away in the back of your mind,

That which you wish to never acknowledge,

A primal part of you that screams for release, and

Never shall I ever begin to cease!

My demands for blood you ignore,

But you foolishly pretend that I am not there,

Even though you can hear my echo in your soul,

The ringing of my voice

Every time you feel a surge in your veins!

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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Forget the mass of humanity. Forget the concerns for mankind. Forget the pleas and cries of the international and national…thing…that is called “the people” (I reject the notions that it is alive, as some may say, certain deluded individuals), that everyone everywhere claims to speak on behalf of, for no one gets anywhere without their consent (although the consent is usually superficial; the mutuality is a farce, as you might ascertain from opening a history book, for make no mistake, nothing, and I do mean nothing, is done on behalf of “the people”). Forget the appeals to my biological kinship with my fellow persons. Forget the emotional appeals, for I have no particular goodwill towards the lot of man. There’s nothing for me there, and I doubt there ever will be. There are exceptions, and those who are, I cherish you deeply, and greatly. Let it be known that, by me, you are loved. As for the rest? I can’t say I am compelled to sympathize or want the affections of the majority. For I do not identify with them, and I do not ally myself with their causes, their wants, their needs, their desires, their fears, their worries, and their likes and dislikes. Why should I count myself among willing slaves, who so gladly serve selfish masters? Seems like a terrible idea to me.

This is what I want.

I want unbridled, unrestricted freedom. And I shall decide what that means, for me. Where those limits lie, if I acknowledge any. What I fight for, and what I fight against. I only stop where I may decide to stop, and I shall go only where I wish to. I will use whatever spirits, geists, that I find pleasing to me, if I shall utilize any at my disposal. And I shall determine, for myself, what form it takes (and the material means used to establish it), what it happens to manifest as, for the world is a canvas, the pages for a novel, and my life shall be poetry, it shall be art. The pools of inspiration it draws from. The various sources of inspiration I look to, as I realize my will, in its fullest potential, for that is all any of us can do, and that is all we may be said to have the “right” to do. If it is not the same tomorrow, as it is today, or yesterday, then be not surprised, for stagnancy and consistency are old and for old men, while youth and renewal and contradiction, that is the way of things, the true way of things. With whoever I want, those fellow vagabonds, if I can somehow manage to seek them out, if their vision, whilst not the same physically, is similar in spirit, and I repeat, with whoever I want, I shall associate with. If anyone shall decide to join me, so be it. If they refuse to, or even oppose, then I cannot blame or stop them, though I shall try to make it happen nonetheless. They can come and go as they please. Do as thou wilt, my friends. Do as thou wilt.

It shall be in a most beautiful, natural setting. Overgrown grass and healthy flowers instead of filthy sidewalks and streets. Tall, muscular, vibrant, imposing trees in place of concrete squares and drab, wooden structures. Soil for my bed. Lakes and ponds as my bathtubs. The breeze as my air conditioning. Wild fauna living their lives to the fullest, rather than drab, human clones, pompously strutting about. The sun and the moon taking the place of putrid streetlamps and streetlights. Money and moneyed interests will be gone, evaporated like mildew in the morning sun. No more will the economy be a deciding factor in anything. It’ll back-to-the-land. However, the land, and its inhabitants, shall not be dominated. Harmony shall be achieved, where everything has its place. Nature is not our bitch. We are Nature’s bitch. We’d do well to remember that eternal fact.

This is not for anyone’s sake, outside of those whom I am emotionally attached to, and appreciative of, and love dearly. That is the answer to those critics who may be suggesting I am trying to be some sort of savior, some sort of messiah, striving for a kind of “greater good”, where all is restricted out of necessity. This should shut the conservative cowards and idiotic reactionaries up. Might I suggest you go back to the office and the church, and keep your noses out of what you couldn’t possibly understand. And if they cry the leftist-sounding cries of “egoism” and “selfishness”, then I shall throw their hypocrisy back in their faces, eviscerating their weak, pitiful arguments. I am what they practice, without all of the empty justifications they use to synthesize their contradictions, rendering them schizo . Nor shall I deny that I balk at tradition, for their “traditions” are false, and not perennial in the slightest, not worthy of the allegedly “primordial” importance they give to them. To put tradition, real tradition, and the ways of the Cross, Crescent Moon, or Star of David in the same sentence…would be the most absurd of errors. They are flimsy, just like their followers. Born of an age and period most foul, most absurd, and most deadly. And if economic concerns are raised towards me even once, I shall the nearest bank to the ground. Fuck your dismal science. I wipe my ass with your dollar bills. I might set your house on fire next.

Speaking of the left, they will no doubt decry me as some kind of decrepit miscreant. Unconcerned with the working class (I do not deny this, for to have something in common with someone based on our similar wages, is as hollow as having something in common with someone based on race, or gender, or geographical location), who are stuck in a slumber, lulled to sleep day in and day out, no sign of awakening in them to be found, and who reject whatever does not fit their mold, for they are ignorant and just as bourgeois as the bourgeois themselves, having adopted their standards. Yes, the rampant oppression and enslavement is disconcerting and hard to watch, but when they let it happen to them, and make no attempt, none at all, to alleviate themselves of it, can you really feel so sorry for them? They’d rather wallow in their sorry state, in their victim status, than assert their will, take that power, and light everything on fire, like they should. To answer the inevitable question, no, I shall not sit around idly, waiting for a revolt to magically happen, and then strive for my liberation then. It’ll never come, and if it does, as history has shown, it will not come via your side. They wouldn’t risk being ostracized and becoming an outcast for the mere sake of principles, in the meantime. Their liberty, whenever that comes, is not my liberty. As I’m sure they’ll also find out, I do not wish to make work more enjoyable or bearable, either. Those are two concepts that cannot be reconciled. I do not want to have a stake in the factory I work in. I want the factory razed to the ground. Forget about equality, too, while you’re at it, dear reds. I will gladly resist any attempts to level, to make me one with the herd. It won’t happen. I’d sooner fight you the way commie scum are supposed to be fought (I’d gladly make Joseph McCarthy look like a goddamn socialist, if need be), than let you pull a fast one on me.

Some may deem me a madman. But this is a mad world we live in. Everything is topsy-turvy. A crooked, messy hodgepodge we live in. All that we want to save or resurrect is dead and gone. We’re living in the shadow of a dead god, and the new ones give us nothing at all but misery and strife. Therefore, why not embrace the chaos and madness? After all, chaos is the natural state of life. Life is not orderly and pretty. If it is, it is not in any way the human mind would be able to grasp it. It is gruesome, violent, and uncertain, yet this is also what makes it beautiful, joyous, and exciting.

I want that thrill to come back, why the powers that be want to choke the life out of life itself, until everything is as drab and dull as everything else.

I’d go as far as to say that I, and others like myself, are the only “sane” ones left (forget sanity, however, for it was invented to keep the nonconformist from being a threat to the easily frightened mob, by quietly tucking them away in a dark corner), and everyone else is crazy.

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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“Our epoch is an epoch of decadence. Bourgeois-christian-plebeian civilization arrived at the dead end of its evolution a long time ago, Democracy has arrived! But under the false splendor of democratic civilization, higher spiritual values have fallen, shattered. Our willful strength, barbarous individuality, free art, heroism, genius, poetry have been scorned, mocked, slandered, and not in the name of “I”, but of the “collective”. Not in the name of “the unique one”, but of society. Thus Christianity — condemning the primitive and wild force of the virgin instinct — killed the vigorously pagan “concept” of the joy of the earth. Democracy — its offspring — glorified itself making the justification for this crime and reveling in its grim and vulgar enormity. Already we knew it! Christianity had brutally planted the poisoned blade in the healthy, quivering flesh of all humanity; it had goaded a cold wave of darkness with mystically brutal fury to dim the serene and festive exultation of the Dionysian spirit of our pagan ancestors. In one cold evening, winter fatally fell upon warm midday of summer. It was Christianity that, substituting the phantasm of “god” for the vibrant reality of “I”, declared itself the fierce enemy of the joy of living and avenged itself knavishly on earthly life. With Christianity, Life was sent to mourn in the frightful abysses of the most bitter renunciations; she was pushed toward the glacier of disavowal and death. And from this glacier of disavowal and death, democracy was born. Thus democracy — the mother of socialism — is the daughter of Christianity.”

—

Renzo Novatore,

Toward the Creative Nothing

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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The fascists have declared their intent for decades. The last ten years they have been beating their chest and screaming for blood in the US while most people laughed. The conservatives give a wink and smile, just waiting for the day they can drop their veil and join the fascists arms linked. The liberals are too busy calling for a "return to normalcy", the same thing they always do while the country ratchets further right. The few moments they arent campaigning for normalcy the liberals are hard at work creating the very conditions for fascism to thrive. Even the leftists are too busy clamoring for clout and status to realize what's been here for years. If they do have any sense of urgency to act or prepare they are entirely inefficient at discarding decades old failed ideologues, reactionary politics, and fighting eachother for woke points.

Things are not going to get "better", and even if they do we have ecological collapse waiting in the shadows with an empty stomach, full of rage and hunger. We cant even get people to agree that the earth is round ffs. The earth is dying, and we are helpless to stop it.

I wish I could be reassuring to those I love, but at this point I continue out of spite alone, and a stubborn hope I might make my daydream life of running an animal sanctuary with friends on the country side a reality. Honestly I know the chances are I will die or spend the rest of my life in prison the way things are going, so spite it is.

The left continues to be completely and entirely useless. They collaborate with liberals, and rot every project driven by passion or individual desire to heap of shit. They adopt the liberals language of sacrificing yourself to some useless pathetic flavor of the week cause, and convince you your desires are what's making their project fail.

I will follow my own cause even if it leads me to death, because how could I live any other way? How could I be truly authentic to my self without fighting what I hate? I just want those I love to be safe, and not live in fear of being murdered for being trans, state violence for being neurodivergent, or right wingers killing them because they're black. This world could be beautiful, but I dont see it, I dont think it's possible anymore.

One of the few things that bring me comfort is poetry, particularly novatore these days.

"In the reign of democracy, the struggles that were opened between capital and labor were stunted struggles, impotent ghosts of war, deprived of all content of high spirituality and of brave revolutionary greatness, unable to create a different concept of life, stronger and more beautiful.

Bourgeouis and proletarian, though clashing over questions of class, of power and of the belly, still always remained united in common hatred against the solitaries of the idea.

Against all those stricken by thought, against all those transfigured by a superior beauty".

-novatore

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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Let's see you penned up in a cage,

Let's watch you be forced into a life

Of depression that withers you away,

Filling you with impotent rage!

How about we test useless shit on your body?

Chalk it up to the price of scientific progress

When the results prove we've gone awry,

When our work is shown to be shoddy?

We'll beat you when you don't do what we want!

Run you over and not even blink,

In your faces, we'll laugh and taunt!

You'd make a better source of nourishment!

You're not worth shit to me, certainly not more

Than the non-human fauna are, and this humanism

I see everywhere, I want to put a stop to its encouragement!

I gladly stomp on the face of a vivisectionist!

I eagerly await the day when the enslavers and eaters

Of the precious creatures

Are treated like child rapists and wife beaters,

Met with the chants and calls for blood

Leaving the mouths of violent insurrectionists!

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

Text

Faceless. You can’t distinguish them. Empty, soulless vessels. Shambling about, all robotic and machine-like, mindlessly confirming each other’s suspicions. Everyone does not follow the official creed is weeded out. Never heard from again. Snuffed out, or simply doomed to obscurity. Laughed at and mocked. Or rendered demons by the preachers who arouse the mass.

The zombies say this is freedom. Their all-consuming hive mind is true liberty. Their iron fist, worse than any dictator, is the bringer of anarchy. You shall know what it is like to be an individual once swallowed by the collective. You shall be able to decide your own life, by surrendering your inner power to those that outnumber everyone the greatest amount, and letting them state your fate.

Everyone gets a voice, they say. Everyone shall be equal, they declare. No one shall be left behind, they shout. Everyone deserves to be heard, everyone is totally valid, everyone is full of reason, they scream.

The people are excellent liars, they are.

Don’t believe the scum.

Avoid them at all costs. Don’t even engage. You will lose. Horribly.

The rabble demand what the rabble always wants: petty concerns you have no interest in. Always fighting for the same hogwash and lowly matters. They are easy to please. Easy to entertain. Clapping like infants when you dangle shiny objects on mirrors that reflect the empty husks they really are. And yet, they are the ones who claim to be in touch with reality.

So, you live by the rabble’s rules. You hate it. You despise it. Everything is fake and mass produced. You stare blankly with a frown, while your peers smile cheerfully. Rushed out of factories ran by suits who might as well have gears, nails, switches, and wire for innards. Made for the most amount of people, this stuff is. No personality, no spirit, nothing. Hollow like the bones of birds. But the people want it. And the people are always right.

It’s all so cheap and boring. You’re lulled into sleep most days. Why wouldn’t you be?

They screech like harpies when you decry it. They howl like hurt wolves when you proclaim the idiocy of what they entertain. How dare you mock the interests of the people? The precious people? The noble scum? They are always right, don’t you know? The numbers said so. Look at the numbers. They never lie. Pay attention, and go along with the rest.

You’re stamped out by them, over time. Your soul is butchered and tarnished by their calls for inane things that are put in place by shadowy puppeteers who play the people like Coltrane played a sax. Individuality? Not on the watch of the mob. That would imply the existence of freedom.

Sad part is, the people think they’re in control. How foolish. They’re wrong again. Like always. It makes you laugh. A sad laugh. One that ends in you shaking and sobbing. Because you know the truth, don’t you? Don’t you?

Nothing levels quite like the innumerable voices that ring out from all around. Not even nukes are this dangerous.

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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The civilizations we venerate will all fall

In the end, and with them, the decadent

Ideas that they upheld in their rotten times...

The strong are not the be-all, end-all,

For the strong have no claim to anything

By virtue of mere physical brute force,

As there are no inherent "rights",

And they, too, are governed by

Inane concepts that are decidedly idiotic,

Another way of "morality",

Arrogant enough to believe

That their ideas are universal, and are thus

No better than the underlings they

Take pleasure in brutalizing...

No one, nothing, has any power over I,

Or anything else, and to accept this narrative

Is to be a laughable fool, making themselves

But mere tools to a hand that guides,

Or rather, strangles, willingly; to yield

To the idea of being a "weakling",

And to accept that you are not in control

Of yourself, and possess no strength,

Just cowardice, and that power

Descending from another, superior "will"

Is a "just" and "righteous" concept,

When clearly it is the root of mediocrity

And the result of stupidity; these are the

Types who deny life, for they deny reality,

And are not lovers of beauty and truth,

Perfectly content with being pushed around

Or pulled around by a ball and chain...

The way forward, the "world of tomorrow",

Is not our friend, our savior, our path

To redemption and salvation that we crave...

The "help" you receive, want, champion

As humane, and just, is little more than the

Current system trying to prop itself up,

So that it may secretly, covertly, erode

Your humanity, until all that remains

Is a husk that has merged both flesh and steel...

The gear-driven gods you worship,

Make altars for, proselytize yourselves

Before, shall be the death of all things

Great, noble, pure, true, and wondrous,

And contrary to what is believed at large,

Pathways to freedom do not lie in their care...

Dreadful and wicked totalism

Appeared the day when one must

Be bowed to, some "almighty" figurehead...

"More" comes from within, not from

Outside, and those who say otherwise

Clearly are the ones who only participate

In satisfying urges for shinier and shinier

"Things", and should be ridiculed

With great prejudice, as they are

Devoid of values or beliefs,

No concept of aesthetics or spirituality,

Lacking desire for rebellion or subversiveness,

Unimaginative, uncreative, boring dullards

Who see only value in mark ups

And nothing else; dunces of the highest order...

A desire for "something else",

Somewhere beyond here, will be

Your undoing, my undoing,

And the decay of all; look what

This mentality has wrought

All through the ages...

We are not all the same,

Differences do exist between us all,

And praise and love should not be

Doled out equally, carelessly,

Frivously, dished out like the air

We take into our lungs,

For then the value of these things

Drops significantly; equality is

Absurd, a humorous concept,

A quaint little amusement,

But not at all a "reality",

And is, in fact, quite the exact opposite,

Since nature clearly did not make us,

Create us, to all be carbon copies...

Yet, this is not to be despaired about,

Nay, this only adds to the art of life,

The wonder and color of the painting

That the lovely Mother has decorated the

Canvas of our world with; and those

Who take advantage of this

For darker, more nihilistic tendencies,

Are not "aristocrats of the soul",

Despite claims to the title,

And are little better than

Abrahamics who shy away

In the face of the universe,

Running away from the cosmos,

Unable to withstand all that

Is being presented to them,

Suffering from broken minds,

And becoming reactionaries...

To reify concepts of a wholly "scientific" kind,

Concerned with just factual ruminations

And adhering dogmatically to logic and reason,

Has done nothing but drive us towards

An age lacking in character, in spirit,

And thus, in real time, we shall see

The soul dissipate and disintegrate...

The shedding of this "light" upon the

Collective whole of humanity, these

Rays descending from the sky, through

The clouds, that had come to touch

Our hearts and minds, was not a gift,

But a curse, for look where it got us today...

You are not "free" merely because you

Utter the word over and over

So feverently and passionately

In the context of your life; phantoms still

Haunt your mind aplenty, possessing

Your mind, body, soul, and heart, like

Demons from the books of the Judeo texts,

As when I gaze upon thee, I do not see

A free man at all, for you couldn't even

Tell me what freedom looked like,

Or how to act it out; your definition

In regard to the "freedom" you adopt

Is one peddled by degenerate bourgeois,

The aristocrats you become aroused at,

And this, to me, is no freedom at all; better

Men have recognized this truth many times over...

Humanity is not the center of all things,

Nor separate from all things,

As we are all part of the whole

That makes up the ecosystems,

And the biosphere, and all other

Components that comprise what

We call the natural world; we are not

Superior to it, and we hold no command over it,

Like we constantly decree, in all of our

Hubris and pride; we are not masters of

Mother Nature, and we do not deserve to be,

As Nature has her own will, one that shall

Always be free from attempts to dominate her,

Much to our frustrated, haughty chagrin; her

Embodiment of freedom, and the fact that,

At the end of the day, we must follow her will,

Her free spirit the measure of greatness,

Makes us envious, and jealous; that is why

Ecocide runs rampant, and some of us

Want to foolishly kill off our mother...

The greatness that emerges from humanity,

Bursts of heroism that spring forth,

These notions are the works of

Individuals, for we look up to great men

And women; this is not born from an admiration

Of collectives, of groups; humans are best

When they are independent, self-reliant,

Free and true to who they are, and their wishes,

Rather than rendered "less than" by

Populist notions where they are herded

Like sheep by shepherds; their potentials

Are hampered, stifled, and stagnancy

Reigns when the individual is forced

To sacrifice themselves into the all-consuming

Void that is "the group", "the collective",

Where beauty and virtue and the admirable

Go to die, being swallowed up by

An all-consuming maw, a black hole,

A rot that made humanity unable to

Live like Mother Nature, and fully emulate her,

Or, rather, follow her example as closely as possible...

All you hold as dear and precious,

That which you prostrate yourself before,

Holding higher than yourself and your own,

Bending over to be sodomized by,

Is, in fact, not real, but utterly baseless,

Fictions of your mind trying to process

The world around you, the natural world,

As well as so-called "realities"

Being beaten into you, day in and day out,

Only an amalgamation of falsehoods

Conjured up by your feeble brain; there is

No universal "right way" or "wrong way",

My friend; there's no overarching fact

That pervades all, and permeates everything,

And if you think so, then you are a simpleton,

For there is only my way, and yours...

These are the atavistic ways...

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fallandfallandfallapart · 4 years ago

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This is what I want.

I want that thrill to come back, why the powers that be want to choke the life out of life itself, until everything is as drab and dull as everything else.

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