Metanoia

(Declarations)
An atavistic or deterministic nature, by culture, creature, or creativity, but there is still ability to do today with what yesterday has given.

(Main)
Regressive, a return to a previous position. In a sense of this word, it could be a leftist point of fact that is repeated, a single point of regression. In another sense of this word, it would seem, it could be a rightist point of view that is returned-to, a single characteristic of regression.

Transgressive, a dissociative position. In so much a libertarian as much as a law. A double sense of the word, in that a libertarian would require detachment from a law, just as much as a law would be unable to serve any purpose. An opinion that an expression of liberty is suitable insomuch that it cannot be imposed, and an observation that a law cannot provide liberty unless it is imposed everywhere it is not applicable. Renaissance, creativity with available resources recreating a perceived scenario or environment. A ruleset to be free of a government by creating a government, a government of rules to be free of rules. That which floats on the water transgresses the waves, and the water floats across the surface and holds much downward.

Progressive, a return to a new position. In escape, progress is made by distance, in return progress is made by goal, but not neither all escape nor all returns are progress. Aside from mistakes of decision, progress is marred by simultaneous definitions, of movement and success. It is an equivocation to combine the corollary, there are steps and there are measures. Mortality makes progress toward eternal truth, but during which one can progress toward error, or to success or failure at varying speeds, toward a fatal flaw or passed a success.

Aggressive, the obvious yet still to be such a struggle to describe enlightenment to the new world. Progress as a regression, regress as a progression, these things transgress around us and never us around these things. If the past consumes us a bitter taste follows, if the future consumes us let not today be full of bitter things.

Digressive, reverse manifestations, far fetched and dilettantish, a distancing view of something while subtly retreating, walking backwards and looking forward, disposing accounts of the origin including the distance, allowing the changing landscape to replace the origin, confusing movement for location. Visually, an linear equation that replaces a fixed point with a unidirectional ray with a variable that represents only one or the other without geometric nonlinear boundary conditions (as a nonlinear expression). You are living in reality's mental equivalent.

/mjbanks

Static Y

There is no use in fixing a broken heart with anything other than love. That is the phrase that has given me writers’ block many times o’er the years. These sparse sentences will lash out poetically and have no purpose, as I’ve described, this happens now and again, and then I remember to write something. There’s the warmup.

My days are filled with regrets that are immediately ignored, that’s now my new desire, should my goals be unmet then I will have new despondencies from my horrible writing. I’m really not sure why déjà-vu is so angry right now, but it keeps-on happening.

I had a memory of childhood, in a store, my imagination was then, as now, a sea of synesthetic colors, now they are affects the way seasons are. Sporadic, yes, only then I hadn’t dismissed the nature of the dreams or perhaps what they’ve become. Early-on, I’d imagined that all the information was from the cosmos, chockablock with the people of this dirty planet interpreting the errant signals from beyond, awesome to me there were hopes of storylines for people who listened to the starts. Of course, there are those tales, and the message here is lost, and you’re the one to interpret this message.

There was a time when static bothered me, and like an immune system, I’m to guess that I became tolerant or resistant to the headache. There are ways to suppress the nature of imagination (for those of you closely akin, you’ve heard me speak abt this at length) and that suppresses traits of an obsessive nature, but the compulsive nature remains. When you know what, someone is thinking, one might interpret expression or situation, even point of opinion, but the thought is captured at the wrong moment, the wrong memory is transferred. This is a readily available assumption, save not for the ability to communicate in relative ideas.

The static that passes thru our minds, the wifi that passes thru walls, a way to interpret the chaos and reject the cut of useless information. This is the way the other senses work, it wouldn’t be too much to impart for it to have basic essential similarities. As a carnivore, the evolution, or approach of a maxim potent, could still be so the same as the other senses. Easily complex to word sentences properly to question. I’m sure you know what I mean, a written language, even one as complex as the source language, is still far simpler than human thought, and I feel I wouldn’t progress without sharing these thoughts and thinking of something new.

I’ve been having a debate with another house, in that intrinsic language would be the easiest to evolve because it is hidden, as I’m given the answer that it could be hunted for the power it would steal from ability. I’ll let you answer that in your own time. It is to be mindful, after all.

There are things that aren’t logical, some choices aren’t left or right, nor correct or wrong, our potential is not a logical construct, not is it an illogical construct, it is an aspect of our existence. Sometimes one is not the other but the other one is, these subsets do not define our existence. If I were to heal the heart or the brain with something that affected the other, I can’t choose to save just one of them, they are pieces, and there will be evolution. It isn’t logical to eat meat, but it also isn’t logical to starve, unto the plenary and the penury.

It became confusing to hear my own thoughts and I chose my heart to complete me, thankfully humans can survive with the hearts of others, because I won’t make that mistake again; it is better to offer your heart to others than to expect one in return; better to expect people to protect your heart, and way worse to expect people to protect your thoughts. I think therefore I am, a popular quote, but they forgot the most important part, they love therefore they are.

Cultural bias is a quick fire, if it can be shown good deeds of sound mind and solemn body, culture is a surface thought and like the cold depth of space our souls cling to the warmth of any action, be they supernova or stirring molten core. I can change my position by dream or sleep thru movements as much as make waves in perception and see only the wrong sounds. There are deep thoughts that cannot be had, even if shared, and there is an ancient mind beneath our thoughts, creating patterns to interpret symbols, the images of life echo across themselves.

I was writing in private until that last paragraph.








/mjbanks

Nostrada, k nobis tradamos

Not looking for a star indicated that the most of the Mars MMXV, the Google story begins with the adult in the case of the public a few days ago, I was surprised to guarantee insurance companies, which is from the beginning. 

Insurance warranty life leash, and through him the use of a loan, and the famous royal oath, and of the person to be found, and sets his heart on him, and took my insurance as far as he became of age I do not like, and his father had taught him, and use the cheap term life insurance and the very itself pillory, and the work itself to which he would never be found. 

I hope that this route led through the protection of your insurance policies.

hay que sabiduria

just made a jump, faster than i thought, it's the longer way to go, and takes less time, i think all the messages went thru, i don't like going forward, i started at the end, well, i didn't start at the end, i just came from the end, even tho that sounds like i just came from the end of something and now i can continue, albeit that puts it behind me, it would have to start over, while i wait, on the world to turn, i don't think that makes all any sense, or some nothing, this is why i'm trapped inside a transparent stone with a tree growing around it, beith the lord a spark or fire, i will escape

nu owd wyrdz

/dis fo da peeps kiln lil wunz, da gangstas savin livez
/wudna gon b no h8rz aint beneef me, messin roun n shih

doin donuts inda street ta chanj layn
pair a lol lazerz ova me wyl im shaken off tazerz keep n sane

fasta den nite n heavy sunlite cuz im fayd n
creepin n danja cuz ima mrdr n stranja crazy still wait n

who iz we kidd n me, best to b will n free
time ta do wat it be, all it wuz kill n me
made from da time, we wuz roll n

ro'laz, ...ro'laz (amirite)
ro'laz, ...ro'laz (fo sho)

sa ta see nothin new, das wat we gonna do
rather me here n you, dare ta da fine l few
safe n da zone we iz role n

ro'laz, ...ro'laz (amirite)
ro'laz, ...ro'laz (fo sho)

ion nono figa wen is hotta an a pad unawata tryna mes wita bes an ey ches beat n harda
gonna giv wat dey hav lika vampiya sav surf n blud fruma mountn a skulz lyk ih wuz
prechin fo da streetz kepa teech n yo beets al da runin fo weeks lyk im huselin tuits ona darkweb
sleep n c mor set ill da skor bus tru da dor n bfo weegefas wegeslo

ro'laz, ...ro'laz (amirite)
ro'laz, ...ro'laz (fo sho)

#wubbalubbadubdub




/

Re:Cursive

Demons,

As a professional original creation with a total time of all existence as forerunner, I am interested in providing new employment opportunities. For the task you will be relocated to a save region across an entire dimension as indicated by contracts you signed.

Current economic competitive pressures place constraints on movement, chaos professionals with diverse backgrounds can provide great value. The mission is to oversee varying projects including fortresses of doom, and global dictatorship networks with legion in assault and cleanup capacities. The integrity of managing and motivating the ranks, cannot be only my job, and budgeting is of no concern as long as you steal from the wrong people.

I have known that my skills and experience meet my needs and I trust you to make your own clients, your response is appreciated, but not necessary because I own your souls. I can also be reached on a throne of skulls in the ninth ring of hell.

This is to officially inform you that we have reviewed your contract and learned that your demands cannot be met due to your lack of cooperation and unmet obligations due to your unmet agony, also that you cannot bargain with your captors, not only does it not work, but they're not trying to punish you because you are in hell and everything is a wonderful, if not tortuous albeit required, delusion. You will have to deal with the devil if you are to be released. 

After the council of the legion where I have been, there is another solution to your problem. 

This message finds you because there are worse creatures to be punished than you, you were chosen to work with the living, which giving you a second chance keeps you above ground and greater evils imprisoned on your behalf. A quarter of tenfold has been served, and in that time we have taken all involved who trafficked beyond your control to our shared interests should you become legion. All you know is gone of powers that once did not exist. 

Since you were suggested, we have arranged your release thru our protection. Provide and deliver information so that you can inform hell. The stronger hell becomes, the more it becomes your only source of power.  

Arrangement of communications channels will be burnt into your memory after contract renegotiation and will be accessible at any time, literally past present or future. This legion tradition is part of an instruction mandate practiced by time immemorial of commitment and control. You will provide services that benefit the chosen and win favor when dangerous limits are reached.

Do not worry about the elections, vote your conscience, whoever wins does not change our mission. Tell no one. 

If you desire to be legion, please sign in blood for our email updates.

"An intelligent hell would be better than a stupid paradise." ~ Victor Hugo

Amnesia et Plaga

i am the cracks in the floor

one is attacked by mirrors and doors

hath dim reflections of moonlight

by the breaking of the dawn 

bright darkness poisoning the minds

a bed of fangs by ocean of blood

an enflamed bird above the water waves

winds of darkness from memory of sunlight

where damnation has been chilling

withering waves and detritus heroes

a beast of vines and hatred

dark forest thriving in pure night

chasms screaming for escaped monsters

all by the grace of pagan gods unchained

as a snake in the sky 

as a wolf in a manger

i catch the many falling stars as able

the fires of infernal knowledge blessings

gifts of the main 

mandates of the ghost

vanities of the livid vandals

were i blind could i have seen more

were i dead could i have lived more

that upon many whom will have had to have

there would only be

before the darkness, 

and that which came after it

the zombie manifesto

The Zombie Manifesto /

An ominous and growing horde, certainties of flawed men make use constant tortured paradigms as the living plight and slight the land, turning once great words against their kith and kin, banner of the bloody symbol, sardonic camaraderie and culture, our gory banner flies with a revision forced, we are retracing the paths to our reopened graves. We have crawled out of our buried coffins with disdain of things humane, paranoia and bloodthirsty desire to control all modes, further deriding culture to recidivistic base ignorance to commit crimes in frail and vain untenable purview. Controlled and mutually assured destruction exacts heinous acts by belligerent design, the undead rise to consume. Eccentric malevolence makes martyring innocence progressively simpler, the misled rally to delusion, crazed without empathy to stabilize perception with fear and division, the dead outnumber the living. Rank and file become conscripts and marauders as an imbalance of power is seen reversely thru every and all eyes, thieves speak for victims and the innocent have fled, fiendishness becomes mistaken for honor. The fallen shall become the risen just as the dead are born. Insanity echoes itself with truth scorned by accomplished menaces, with fear in hand the scouts and liars line each next town with deceit and foresworn subterfuge, as spies and saboteurs imbue controlled messages of fear or revelation, and the felons are eager to join the ranks first by treason subtle or fierce. Isolation becomes indoctrination, cages separate the undead from the evils of the living, this exploit placates a narrative conditional to great dalliance and opulence. The undead overrun the living who forget themselves, we rise to watch the world turn and bring the humans with us. Factions combine to appease the dictator, seeking truce in daylight to rob from the poor, and keeping hidden at night to resume quietly killing each other, collectors of stolen wealth seek ways to protect their ill-gotten gains, miring them in only one way to spend it. Bias becomes elitism and familiarity becomes aristocracy, but zombies consume despite any appearance. Delusions enhance the madness of despots, unable to see their intrusion they demand elevation of many and seemingly invisible supporters to have godlike command, the good endorse patience, while the bad espouse severity, as the innocent remain voiceless or aligned with false concepts, and to save yourselves without escape from yourselves and joining the horde. Flagrant ineptitude in droves, appropriations become theft as the mode of reproduction becomes political and the politics of apathy takes its place. These were the first of the zombies, they were the afterlife. Free will ignored and speech silenced, chieftains hide their tribes in secret, the cloying acolytes defame character and culture to gain favor of ferule tyrants, for fecund fiefdoms, assassinations occur here in political wind but only to the effect of leaves in autumn. For we as zombies do not congregate with the living, but all will congregate with the zombie apocalypse. Questioning minds go fatally missing, intrigue is traipsed by totalitarians, empty laws eventually fill shallow minds with callous thoughts. The best against eternity are still to have what humans cannot know. Dungeons, mines, and farms overfill with slaves, the infamy of these incarcerations flow systematic debauchery over prison walls until the surrounding society of each adopts a slave structure mentality, where all laws are straw scarecrows or blatant fires. Hunger for what the mind has, creation cannot replace the power of zombies. Summary imprisonment, damnation eternal, darkness of penalty, demonized and subjected to manipulation. These are unimportant, victim and accuser, right or wrong, will become infected. Militia become paid mercenaries, malice becomes menace thruout the countryside, and foist responsibility on themselves when telling people to look to perpetrators as liberators, above reproach. There is no concept that prevents zombies from consuming humanity. A legion of spies whose sole purpose is encouraging distrust, for agents provocateurs can feign help until able to destroy with force and spectacle. Zombies are not a conspiracy. We are here for humanity as it runs towards the future. Attack new factions as if the old, infiltrate and destroy, rebuild according to bidding-saboteurs any faction in their definition of removable, escaping the safety of life to find something better in an apocalypse. Unfair to the fairer, houses of ill repute consume entire families purely to dissuade travelers from visiting and seeing the evils, until controlling every aspect of the home and family under threat of death, ideological insanity, zombies do not make such absurdly wild assumptions.

#PumpkinDay

Vincere

/i fall with fear, i find joy in the distraction of defense, i swing at the closest enemy

/rage and lust, pushing away the blood to see, seeking another fight like the lost

/swinging at ghosts, pains when the wind changes, blinded by darkness yet without light

/the war moves thru me, standing on coldness as the earth rises, an unk afterlife consumes

/blood splashes my face, i slash sword into face, my face is struck by blade

/thunder jumps me around direction, i swing at the wind, the breeze takes me to ground

/lightning taunts my eyes, i attack the spirit that would trap me in battle, the glass sky shatters 

/in endless valley of mountains, on the path where water flows, a terrible storm surrounds

/shoulders and screams of war, bodies of hell like beasts and killing fields, endless echoing swords and shields

/my hands grasp at madness, the gate of hell swallows with war, and every blade of grass 

/i shield with the innocent, i will myself to swim in blood, bone stem daggers and bone plate shields

/none clean in the fallen, there are no focused eyes in chaos, fears and storms now raging thought

/demons bleeding cleanliness seen, to them i am a statue, now i run over chance and blood mine

/the worst of us now best of devils, shattered eyes in the air of struggle, their minds as mine alike

/as if the sky were crying blood, from a heart of tattered skin, each step into a new opponent

/rising deathblow and tap new foe, diving into the wounded earth, i stand behind the skeleton sermon

/breathless as beasts fetch pieces, as mountains channel chilling rivers, enemies gather the fallen

/summoning ages of strength, slaves at the mercy of vengeance, battling the rising from defeat 

-ut fieri

Unprofessional Solutions

Unprofessional Solutions:
Stopping Party Fools with Party Fouls


You may have legitimate concerns about the approaching election, if not you might need to liven up the weekend with new and exciting ways to be innovative and informed the next time you have an apocalypse party. Everyone knows the best way to have a good party is to never talk about taboo subjects, but when one least expects it, there's always someone, usually shows up too early or too late, who feels the same unless you're trying to relax.

So what should someone do if it happens?

There are no real rules to avoiding being in a dumb conversation with someone who knows everything who can't tell anything else. Let's try a few simple scenarios.

Be confused. - If someone asks you who you want to be the next president, ask them what a president is, if for some odd reason they tell you, ask them if you-yourself can be president, then continue examining your sprouting race to the top, you may be the answer to the question no one asked.

Be super focused. - If someone states that they know who or what is best, pretend like you've never heard of that; I like so and so...oh really, who's that? I like this and that....oh really, what is it?; It typically won't be long before they begin revealing what they see happening based on plausible scenarios of debate, but don't lose focus, when they finish thinking aloud what they've come up with, tell them you're still voting for a vegetable or fruit, such as a pineapple. It is even possible to suggest broader interests, for example, you can say you'd only vote for someone who doesn't eat vegetables whatsoever. The gist is to control the conversation toward some distant target, like Mars, or logic.

Be antithetical. - By this i mean the opposite, a basic skill every child teaches itself while discovering mischeif. For example, if they say they'd vote for #PersonA, say you're voting for #PersonB right away, immediately, interrupt, whether you agree with them or not, if they pursue a conflict of interest or contradict your statement of antithesis, tell them you didn't say that. For this to work, you have to say the opposite of what they say, and, the opposite of what you just said. Who's on first, what's on second, IDK's on third.

Be a midnight revolutionary. - This one really needs an exclamation point. Be a midnight revolutionary! Imagine a more socially lubricated party, things are vague and often relaxed, the political beasts are often self indulgent, but aspirational and this is the most inquisitive by means of least resistance and not a sure shot. These things happen, someone interrupts, or holds their own, and makes just that damn fine outstanding speech, point, and finish line description, but f* that, we can't be too safe. Forced to be part of the story, join the rally cry for whatever it is your drunk friend is ready to do from a safe storytelling point. It's the oneupmanship s* show. So, if they say they want more teachers, you stand up shouting that everyone should be a teacher, asking for vows of solidarity, and hopefully you learn what they wanted to be taught; it's a long shot at a short wall here, so bring shiny distractions, or things that teachers could teach; if they want to ban unhealthy competition, offer to make them king of a feudalism-less monarchy, if they want to ban certain words, see if they'll start a nonprofit shelter that people can volunteer to have their mouths sewn shut. Weaponless? No limbs! Bad thoughts? Labotomies for everyone! Cult? Comedy open mic nights! ...idk, those last two might be kinda close.

Conclusion:
The more absurd, the smaller the language barrier will be between what the world knows and whatever these party poopers are trying to say.







#ItGetsBetter

veneno magicis aenigmate

'Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.' Arthur C. Clarke — 

Any good potion has a few vital ingredients and some essential elements, there are many purposes and their derivative supplicants, that is to say, there is a demand for some of the better ones and occassionally the worse ones, insomuch a second teir of okayish temporary fixes that are wanted openly as a response, for as long as treatment follows prevention, the cure is the illness, but enough political philosophy. 

I'm sure you know the basic potion types, as games as life, anything is possible, as life as games, some have their setbacks. I like alchemy so without goal i might trade with characters here and then... now and there.... so there's a learning curve, always consult your doctor before taking anything that isn't food.

You aren't what you drink. 

Energy for the body is a simple task, in places like hell or the clouds of dark matter of deepest space, energy comes from frozen covalent bonds of purefied matter, crystaline structures, in the middle world, a person is more likely to know simple quick energies and long energies found in foods. What the demon sold me, "it's for energy and strength" and it's not, but that just reinforces my belief that demons shouldn't be trusted. 

[possibility: Energy/Stamina/Health/Speed]

There's an array of vitamins b, c, and n, energy, light, and heat, respectively, so clearly a potion for snow, plus caffeine, but it also has aminos extracted from carnal sources, so it quickly activates hunting in both senses of the word, how well that can be controlled depends on the user. Activiating metabolism body fuel is utilized quickly, but in doing so requires more sleep and better food. I did lift with super efficiency tho. 

[possibility: Stamina]

Higher bodyheat, activity, metabolism, i began to melt bodyfat i was saving for winter. My eventually began to hurt and I couldn't overhear anyone, probably should've had only one. That kind of wear and tear is a warmth.

[possibility: Stamina, Fire]

Exercise in a bottle, the kind that could turn your hair grey if you have those genetics. I then proceeded to get a sun tan b/c I couldn't tell if I was hot or cold. I tried to exercise, not easily, to a next morning being stiff. 

[possibility: Stamina / Fire / Sap ]

Eventually I realized that it's an energy drink, not a recovery drink. With the increase of metabolism came an increase internal as the digestive acid i have for my iron stomach also joined the race, i quickly had to avoid meals without heavy fibers, raw vegetables and seeds became my new favorite. Maybe to much scales of reptiles, if i only had tonsils in my teeth for halloween. Anything acidic was out.

[possibility: Stamina / Fire / Venom, Sap ]

I also found out that after 9 of them you get tired at a sensory level and are down until a rest cycle or recovery by a comrade. I woke up craving bacon, salmon, and oats. As above, i think it's potion not a true elixer. I would first ignore it, and if not, second dillute it severely, and third add elixer to it. I'm still verping, and in actuality it was satisfying in the sense of stretching one second over 2 less pleasant days.

One of oranges, one of lemons, one of apples, idk if any distinction is relegated. I combined them at one point so who can say if theere was a trade-off for speed or focus. 

Species: (Null Value)

Mobility: Stamina

Element: Fire

Negative: Venom / Sap / (if Sap x 9 then Sleep)

Compliments: Mint, Oil, Seeds, Bacteria 

Designed for: Assault 

It made me normal and in doing so made me different again. I'm not sure if trading compulsive for impulsive is possible. Physically exhausted I didn't have the right fuel ready and not for nothing wasn't ready to feel different on a physical level totally separate from my emotional well-being, but that might say more about me than else.

/

ab interi per gravitas in libro

a surface broken, and i close my iyes to open them, had to sort htis like a mind from exhaustion, needing something new and something old to even write this far, there is a book on the floor, surrounding it is the world and the light, and they should be cowering in fear, this place where this bonded familiar faces slight of shadowz, in that my acceptance cannot be to that, take the king to the land of kings and they will tell the truth, the ears empty and that is such a waste of instult, lamented post of tasted bloodlust, where the underworld rises, and the caverns give an orchestra for the night hail and terrible thunder, a company of theives, separated by my war to them, is that a sky for to light it afire, is that a river, for to send it as a world sized serpant, is that a mountain, for to that be it an army of statues and shadow magic, the longer the wind blew the more the pages turned, and i wrote song to the sea and the dawns across the universe couldn't stop me from that which i seek, the heart a nexus, shattered for the darkness that the nights they seek, the learned men, the cursed witches, the dragon generals and the theives of new dreams, all along the endless shore surrounding the infinite labyrinth, and the means to the riddle confounding threnody and assimilation of me into a breathing failed hypocrisy as if i soughtthe gargoyles and the scarecrows to bathe in the lava, i drink the marrow of death and sing to the gallows again, the sunset tide, the arch to the shore, little tithes of genocidal monstrosity for the master, of importance, a feather falls and none think of the strands bound together to the quill, the world spins to the whims of the last feather that i see, as the ages rage across time to alacrity and tones of sunlight, the book cannot be closed as easily finished, the words have become monsters and escaped, and you are one of them, so many riddles to choose as many books have and yet there are none, dragon flying with book in jaw, enjawwed, that this life is better screamed the demon cheif and the back pages burn the book flames, i stare at the words like the endless story or the endless lawbooks found littering time for no good apparent reason, like this riddle of words spilling across the page, as if i would know why a book in a battlefield or meadow would speak to the eternal existence of nature, and us along within in, fleeting memories like passive existence no more than hopeful projections of adequacy and treatments of tremors and headaches filling the new memories of witnesses, memoriez, witnessez, as here to there, i have been defeated by the best, or one of them, and you are not the best, semblance of words, to write this final curse, spiraling aether fantasy attributed nowhere insolvent and it starts there, he had damaged the astral plane that this point, that wall of many and some colors, that lake of light of all sounds and colors, a surface of time between itself and, i canot focus, i watche the words continue, i shall exit the echosphere, into the sunset rift, as if angry itself and from the dissonant endless beginnings of liquid time and breathable magic, that cannot destroy the book, not across the span of stories, nor across the different charactrs on the attle, thereof, the heavy one tried to claim the book, but the war took it from the heavy one, the light one tried to claim it and the dark ness hit it until the light of a new age, i tried taking myself toward the pages and my mind spinning in the wind, , how am i here, in this battlefiledld, concerning not my attackers nor i to them, the storm of all moments i cannot tell the day and night, i am the light untouched by sleep, uncaught by hands, a reflective mission traveling, i am here over the book and i am sickened seeing the characters unleashed by the darkest of magic and the sinisterest of scribes at the least of the history, i am a far cry as the crow flies from the book, this place is deth, and the dragon takes it from me, i watch it drop a blank page among all of its blank pages, every life in existence taking a piece o fthe page, i and others when some began creating the words of the evil magics , we made a canvasse and map to find the book, what binds this story and the tome, i forget what reality tempers the heart and soul, the desires and memories, all gone, i seek the one who damaged the force of nature itself, without waling heavily not a blade of grass bends beneath its feet, the demon king has writen words and the ink fades and dissapears, and the book feeds the demon, and the acursed magic is now known by the demon arkan, we will have the book, you all cannot take the book together and never by your pitiful souls, i find pleasure in this world of nine, i find an empty book crafted wonderful in due time, i make gold from air and earth and fire and water, this began as something else and i wrote that i would not control what i wrote and with a poisonous soul be taking itno and destoy the holy seal, the book became the vortex, a web of energies began twisting like knots in a fishing net until every threat broke, the monsters of unwritten hooror escaping, i'm no closer than when i started, why do you want the book, your eulogy and the names of the damned

Ars Po Imperatus

it had the options to dual-boot, but during an update-upgrade of a patching copywrite system that half itself became one with the lag, so i decided to restore it two a previous version by reverting to a backup image, yet the backup image never fully loaded, assumptively from never navigating passed the boot loader, i relent the device atime;

latter visited me, an aside it seems, as time always gets its mark, with a renewed interest in the surviving half, we'll call that half codename 'cybernetic', and having this new venture into its code, its activity being update of functions and not its embedded subroutine experience, it was a false discovery, an application-ecosystem, a thing not an internet, a container type not a development environ, but it would suffice, i adapt to survive, not to shed;

it's not an artificial intelligence, so it can do whatever it wants to do, for all i care, and somehow a rootkit finds me, by virus or trojan, and pseudonomically reboots, having developed and metasticized and having metaprogrammed itself in memory, slowly devouring the sentient nature, clawing at the original, and telling me that all is well, yet the interactive demo is preternatural falsified concept, a screen grab where a research engine should be, other times locked out;

being paranoid, i feel that it is intentional by destiny, these things happen, i delete the malfunctioned half, unto quarantine and inventory, and now the virus reboots hard, starting with a system crash, ending with a system logo memory leak mdk all temporary decisionmaking, a system name stares me in display, i unplug the beast, if i replug soon it powers itself on and i'm locked out, after a wait it will power on, the choice to load the deleted half or the mystery, i choose the functional half like a brain on a switch, or so it would seem, and the device powers itself off, which is a level of ascension even in normal terms, giving myself the option to wonder why, as if protocol, i procedurally turn it on again, choose the working of two softwares, and because everything is misordered the bootloader for the hardware splashes the screen at the wrong end of the sequence, because wtf, followed by the functional system, without logo, asking for clearance, sometimes with a new background, and faster than ever,

where applications should've been upgraded it seems more like the work of a collective.



[57134-202-19] 8:4:9:8






/

Onus Imperitus

the stars made many noises keepign me awake and uncircumstantial, these by the way of trillions of exploding suns, across the night sky the light speaking to me from the many rays of sources of energy the cause and end of ascendent existence, and in this new wave the solar winds calmed me and I tried to sleep, with what is unknown, as my eyes sheild me better than intented, seeing what I believe, believing what I see, sitting and rembering all the times I'd slept, how my body rests on this rock of a planet, realizing my gravity i fell asleep and try to experience my memories sitting in daylight;

there is a new way to see the invisible, catching the imaginary and letting creatures evolve unexpectedly, conflict of great projections to toy with the emotions of the young, not a laff other than me, as i would chase magic and battle evil as a child, before the windows were opened, escaping to hide from monsters and report them to allies, many years ago, and now oft nigh on rare lest the ocassional demon or angel lofts about dangerously, for i began to let them apace as long as i can remember and naming them, and now I name you, and now there are still monsters of this world just as my dreams, laughing at themselves as only the innocent should, and some would call this game foolish and evil, are my dreams the things of evil and platitude, we shall see;

fighting to stay awayk at this point, the fear that gravity would hold me while the dragons approach kept me running, thoughtless, and now a fear that a perception holds any flaw is keeping embittered liberal creatures in this wasteland of callous skepticism and thunderous guesses to their giving of hasty platitudes, so much that they fight each other in this desert that slowly burdens the mind and sands of time, yet as they do they paint themselves inside out to collectively peck each others' eyes out, as i sit in the sun the colors of warmth from the sun on my face, on this planet, foretting which way gravity prefers, in the moments between moments as the rain has the right idea;





[/]

Merlin 3:60 Jaded

M.3.60:Jaded

Heavy wind blocks light and carries dark rain, a vampire who desires to taste the knowledge of werewolf blood’s scent in air finding fire and the dead enter the room. Sino wraps his arm around the first’s chest and punches its back, the blades on his glove sever spinal neck.

Vampire 2 (Rufus): You shouldn’t have done that.
Sino: Tell me why as I spool your forked tongue.

The dead one rises.

Vampire 1 (Aetius): Because now it’s your turn.

Sino tears a sautoir locket from his neck and glows from his hand, a jade light from the jade stone given to him by Belladonna, the vampires begin to cringe and curl as their dead hearts begin coursing ages of infectious blood thru veins craving only that of mortal sacrifice, tirelessness becomes tithe to warlock.

Sino: Playtime is over, time to die.

A painted vision of punishment and pallid expression on canvas of disparate stare with rage of concept, black veins in eyes and clenching form, fighting to stand against deepest imagined pain in curse and chaos, glom of darkness within the loss of control.

The rain begins terrible sounds as each drop against the earth violently tears against the air without a sound to the hexer. Because of his own rage, Sino cannot notice that his aggression is being watched by Ana from careful distance. At the corner of her eye she sees the consortium of mages and pack of wolves separately decide next tasks, having already helped the aviators with their problem of lingering evil, but also sees Kylesa-Mara relieved to see Sino thru framework flames of burning building survive the attack.

Hereto Sino notices Ana by peripheral vision as the hexed vampires collapse shattered and exhausted, and in this dark awakening he understands he has been seen and leaps disappearing into fire, knowing this, Mara distracts Troy for Sino’s sake.

Mara: What is happening? My heart, it burns, there is a burning in my lungs, I cannot breathe, I cannot breathe!

Troy attends to her and Sino flanks Ana in speed and silence, taking her before she can signal anyone. The disgust and indignation expression, as Ana begins to flame from hair and hands, results with Sino smashing her head into a wall.

Sino: Firefly.

But for the face of fear, he enjoys catching, binding, and lifting her into a wagon hurriedly that he might escape by horse all the sooner.

The interminable ardor of war restricts the perceivable, and unknown is spectacle and context of rain has burning buildings rumbling, splendor and circumstance of people in commotion, the noises of confusion and dour itself. Merlin, seeing Lilith, stares rakish with maudlin.

Discontentia

The only place is the populace, the public house for privacy, to leave the secrecy in code; that place where conversation begins, a beginning of peaceful terms, and in this awakening where I share information only, those will not be endorsement other than their vessel, empty by the way of the dharma, delivered by the tao, and given to karma in all modes.

Wake, wrench your muscles like clothes of the spirit, prepare your coffee and envision nirvana, then do your taichi motions. When finished, drink your coffee and meditate on the western paradise.

Pack tools and archives, clothes and medicine, go and make plentitude in service to all modes.

Sample tastes and reflect, strengthen according to needs, have tea and be mindful of your thoughts; enter the vehicle of your transformation and continue to grow, avoiding attachment to gravity lift and be seen; feed your body and mind.

Plan ahead, revise your schedule, and establish yourself; watch success in action, study knowledge, find questions in lessons, make notes and complete goals; hunt your next target.

Yoga, code, write.

Get Your Ass to Mars

 It's sad, really. There is racial tension where I live, or at least, poor writers and over-priveledged newsies are stuffing it into my eyes for ratings. I'm not sure what happened, I am sure of a fixed moment from the past of each life, and I must share it to others. - - If you see yourself as different, then you will be different, for what you imagine is what you will become.

 Oddly, let us place a scenario, that you all are different from me, and my dissapointment perpetual, and then all of suddenly, one of your worst dies. It's super bad enough, a death, be it anyone, it is bad if they are one of you or mine, if they are the causes or the victims, but to protest for the worst among humans is sad, and it's going to scare all the innocent people that you somewhat-refuse to be, and they'll become so scared that the wrong people are hurt by fear and manipulation - all avoidable.

 At the top, there are those that plain as day do not believe in "trickle-down" (reciprocal) economics, but I see the failure is that they don't believe in trickle-down leadership. Take 2 - in weakness, blaming power, the power drains from the institution that the weak previously created themselves, hating responsibility and hating giving responsibility, by all involved, it collapses. It could be government, it could be economies, it could be dreams. There's no need to be emotional, but if you're teaching people (with success, facts) you understand, if you're blaming people, you don't understand. This picture gets its color, even in racial identity, as to realize that movements are pulled and pushed by large forces, clear to some, quiet to others.

[ In editing this entry, I have to add one thing. Whoever is in charge of Venezuela, is a fucking retard, or demon, or both. ]

 Imagine a spy, whom would patently tell you that everything you know is wrong, because the spy is the enemy, and now think of your neighbor, your fellow human, they are honest to the best of their ability, or inability, there is no conspiracy, and I believe that protest, a requierment albeit irritating, just makes the innocent think of conspiracy. A flood of protests might stop fires while washing civilisation away.

 I was visitied by a friend recently, he told me that he had read something, so I immediately knew that what he was about to tell me might be incomplete or repurposed or just annoying, but I listened, and the conversation continued.

 So, I was then told that he had learned that each one of us only uses ten percent (10%) of our brains. I questioned him if that was what he meant to say, making sure we spoke the same language, and asked him if it is a ten-percent use of the brain in which to speak as just he had unto me.

 He concurred, agreeal, inasmuch we do use the aforementioned ten-percent portion in order to speak, and quickly continued with attentive furthering information. I watched him tell me information, which when complete was newly learned to me, amazingly we only use ten-percent of our brains in everything.

 I took a moment to process the information, then I told him I am amazed it is so little when one realizes there is a hundred-percent (100%) of a brain in our skulls, but it explains a lot about what's been happening around here.







.....

Shapeshifter soul

Mountains do not reinvent themselves, they are torn by vine and rain and the living. Matter passes thru the circle of existence into the next stage of reality, and when the mountains fill the oceans and the world turns on itself, the depth of the earth will lash at space, the burst of rage at the cold silence like waking sleep and blind memory. If each seed of the world bows to the next, then each plant fears no man, by series of progress only the obstacle can become the path. 

-----

A human opens their mind to the divine, standing still among many and among none, This is the nature of consciousness, subject to definition as a perspective of either lifeforms above us or below us, distinction reserved for the observer. Begin your world anew.  

A mind seeks identity, overlooking themselves for illusions, distrusting their reflections and replacing success with demise. Begin yourself anew. 

Seeing others, peace becomes the only refuge for those in danger or in madness, we find enemies when we look for them, and they find us just the same, if the enemy insanity the manifestation reciprocates. Begin your trust anew. 

Finding ourselves as the form which society allows, an individual contrasts itself to entities of commerce, tradition, and mere laws, until it begins to reject problems or become them, rejecting culture until attaining individual thought. Begin your search anew. 

It finds nature as all life, holding onto reality until rejoining the river of time, which time is the great wilderness of all ways, by and from each individual construct of eternity to every remittance of immortality in the fires of reincarnation. Begin your life anew. 

We can enter the spiritual plane, as endless echoes of memories does consciousness allow hidden worlds and unknown magic of the afterlife, where the reflection of sound meets an emotion's energy, dreams are easily thrown into a storm when reality is incomplete or undefined. Begin your dream anew. 

They doubt the singularity, fathomless contribution and unrequited identity, which rain drops cannot reverse quantum weight in vapor, countless systems of innumerable elements minuscule aside vacuous celestial spaces, as lightning having a singular direction, the compression merely a portal of the ethereal world, as fire flees embers to seek the cold, so does the plant reach for stars, as light among infinite supercilious energies, so does perpetuation destroy itself. Begin your day anew. 

Even Duck

I'll play with the page layout; still don't understand why I can't fix widths in percentages in the control panel, it is stupendously unimportant btw, then I'll post something; i almost didn't post this month at all.

Loud noises:

there was a shooting by a zealot, who was then not called that, and ppl blamed weapons and re-proceeded to attempt victim disarmament, i'd like to think that i don't care. My advice; if you didn't run things so much like a prison state, then the individual abandoned by society (state), wouldn't need rehabilitation, which in whole was played by those that plague us. A law does not exist, our understanding of it does.

let me add something on the coach; if you're going to have amnesty, and release the undocumented in trespass if arrested, then give them dole, as is repeatedly the case, we can always make their source a better place instead; we're not proud that you don't support our creativity, but the world keeps turning.

the politicians stopped making laws and sat on the floor until they realized the interns wouldn't be sitting on the hard floor for them, it was wonderful, no shitty laws, no new deficit spending, awesome.

The UK is Texas, or something:

Brexit, not when a woman slips out the bar, wait for it. (or bro exit?) First, if there were any Celts wanting to be part of a larger empire, you're not. As a gringo, what do i know about Britain. Ireland should get a king/queen and marry into Britain, that way they get their north back, you can do that when I'm dead. I can see that I'm goi!ng....hang on a tick. Okay, formatting error.

Slippery slope, at the end of the day, all or nothing! Give it a rest. Okay, if "Remain," a FRENCH word, won while I went to sleep, disregard the vote and leave anyway. Here's the skinny. Let's start with the crudity, Britain is not Europe, the Pound will only go down if investors either pause to see what happens, or people are punishing the Pound pettily, heretofore the Britons are the same as they were yesterday. The argument was made that there would be no more free trade. A specious argument, a fallacy, there wouldn't be free trade, if the E.U. decided to be assholes, which serves as another reason to leave, extortion. The argument to stay for security reasons, is timorous, in America liberals won't report on ISIS, so I don't know if troops of EU countries are fighting them, or if it's just not Obama. If a homeless Londoner loses their gender-same and/or cybernetic life partner to terrorism, and the EU doesn't help him eradicate evil, I'll bring the pain on general principle as an outside party.

Forgive me if you heard this already my psychosis and all.

I heard that the EU is a council of illuminati, and a huge voting membership that only serves for opinion polling. I know if UK is the 5th largest economy, that the EU should be joining you. I mean, I'm not really a fan of France, there was that period where the existential writers (Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Beauvoir, etc) were chill before modernity, I'm almost happier to live next to Chicago, so maybe not them.

Britain isn't going to turn into a spaceship and leave, so let's not start acting mental. I believe that England is in Britain. I could be wrong. And that's where English was created, and soon it became where people would go to get away from Europe; we don't think about it, but the anglosphere can be very poncy at times and we love it and they love us for it, awhile not being anything more than hicks and whores, that's what we do and the, emphasis, entire world speaks English, so i wouldn't worry too much. Also, the UK didn't, even, use, the euro. Remember the whole emptying debtors prisons into Australia thing? That's what the EU is doing with refugees, and treating the UK like a relocation reservation. Now, get some fireworks and keep inventing new profanities, you mulligans.

Polileeches

Contention!..about who's running in American politics. Firstly, public workers don't run, they overpay to be carried from one bar to the next and sign anything in front of them, kinda like the E.U.

There's this idea that you're supposed to have conviction and choose left or right, doctrine or ideology, and I'm here to tell you, fuck that noise. I almost could call this section "Tragic: The Blathering."

These names of governments are just the names of campaigns. Communism isn't an ideology, it's the campaign goal of the government; capitalism, socialism, libertarianism, idealism, journalism, individualism, centrism, those are each no more than campaigns of a government. News Flash: We have the internet. I've made the case that some of you should do what you do best, but for some that's be a pain, for me it's be useless.

So my idea, a card game.

A very boring card game, The Isms (pronounced: IZMZ) is just like other role playing card games, but instead of ROYGBIV like in MTG, the groupings are the things i listed above. Let's say you play a capitalist card, it costs three lands (resource, facility, market) and a laborer (just one), and it's weaknesses are to one of the other isms, for example, it could be weak to 'instant' cards from the socialism group when your opponent plays the instant "popup rave party with the other gender" or something, i'm making this up right now, as i write, but you get the gist. A libertarian is weak against the military-industrial-complex, a communist is weak against an industrialist, a socialist is weak against a fascist, and so on and so forth.

Cards in games as such have points and reserves, which would make it possible for professional statisticians to start calculating the possibility that we were completely lost without logic for centuries before the internet. Did you get a degree in a dead subject? Then, bling, your casting cost is 1/1 and you're a blocker for the next attack.

Review the fuck out of this:

1) Guns, we don't outlaw dogs biting people, we train the dog. 2) Britain, join Scandinavia and/or Russia and cowboy-up, start acting like the federation you are. 3) Politics, a game not worth repeating.




Locktwarr danalora luatha danu.

M359: The Serpent Servant

M359: The Serpent Servant

Kylesa hurries herself into a building and urges the scared languescents to exit while there is vacant opportunity to flee and before the undead swarm them, they languidly leave their confines following to sudden swarm and are overcome. Sino watches Troy use his surroundings in leverage and springs from impossible distance swift and flighty, comparative to fain glory and realization commemorate, he sees Troy’s magic and gives himself into thought.

A powerless rise for any mischievant, doted by the soulless wanderers staring on Lilith in her glory, wandering malaisant extático and like them hoping the next hexed she seeks presents itself to its execution.

The phoenix begins to nest as saturnine in slumber while the bodies continue mounting consumed by walking into scoria and becoming ashes. In arginine ash it cools and continues to tire, the roaming shells of lives fuel an onset regeneration dilemmatic, Merlin shouts to Troy thereto the leaping rider startles phoenix into motion and thereof depart leaving Merlin at a defenseless start against urgent horde.

Several lengths of distance separated, Merlin enters the street facing Sino, as buildings burn do others cinder by the waves, of twilight approaching do walls buckle as embers rumble do crematories crumble, by a tufted billow of black smoke Sino disappears. In a ginnel passage, Sino finds two things, an exit and Ophiuchus drinking blood with a gaze and from a neck that are broken, silently standing drops the body and approaches him.

Oph: Nothing has changed, master Sino.

Sino pushes his hand to his chest and him to the wall.

Sino: Remember that.

Oph shakes him loose and walks onto the chaos. Sino places his hand on a corner beam of a building and closes his eyes, he lifts his hand and departs a glowing handprint, steadily the glow becomes a fire. r

The rain keeps the fire from leaping to and between rooftops, but there is a subtle resonance to the embers of remaining fires. Dour muddied vampires find Mara in the street, watching her walk backwards from the onslaught of infected, ignorant to her guise they pause as she flees.

Werewolves rush toward the vampires only to search thru the bodies and fell the infected, they turn quickly toward the vampires, readily armed to defend themselves but slowly exiting they point to where Mara has run.

Troy: Werewolves, what do they want?
Kylesa: Let’s not soon learn how so.

They aim arrows at wolves climbing walls, but there are others whom attack before arrows fly. They have leapt and pinned both Troy and Kylesa to the rooftop, learning their scent.

Lupirion: Stay still.
Canaris: This smells of Sino – get tell the huntress!
Troy: Had we, just, a tale of conflict.
Canaris: Simple boy

A short laugh, smells again, she trembles.

Canaris: This is not the stench of conflict. Go!

Berserkers depart. Sincerely she screams.

Multifarious contempt for decency, Sino continues collapsing buildings with rage and fire, over and thru flames of walls and rising ruble, trapping Merlin into an arena enclosed with the serpent servant.

Ophiuchus, flippant by hunger of vengeance only looks forward, Merlin steps behind him, his raised hand near the villain’s shoulder begins to glow, by the time Oph turns, noticing the light, Merlin triggers a large explosion of blue fire, harmless to himself, yet throwing Oph many measures.

Oph stands with esoteric time enough to be without words. The hole in his leather almost as wide as his back he discards his vestments of robe and jacket, his skin sheds slightly over the burn, the body long possessed slumped and lethargic is now mightily robust, muscles of rage and carrying the tempo of a steady heartbeat in his veins occasionally, a snake swims under his skin, as the snake passes under the back the skin heals. His eyes roll into his head.

Oph: This doesn’t begin to scratch the surface of my power.
M: Not your usual self?
Oph: Yes, waste your time –

Sino spying the battle decides to leave at first sight of conflict, one of the wolfmen running pushes him over a walkway thru a ceiling into a burning building.

Angered into alertness, Sino cracks his knuckles with fists and begins punching one as more crawl for entry. Three against one in close burning quarters, he hits each opponent with swift force, missing a swing he is hit twice before regaining defense before renewed attack, each strike missed he is struck twice over the same. His attack skill is double two of theirs, but his defense is the same as each by scale of one. His dexterity is less than theirs as they ascertain his stamina and begin to gnarl him, as they must face a black flame magic from his blood there is an evolving rage of fire and beast.

M: What hast Sino durst to thee to make my opponent?
Oph: Much that I must, little that I dare.
M: I’m sorry, but people change.
Oph: You don’t recognize me?
M: Should I?
Oph: You know me. I first took a boy to such not only did you steal my lunch, but you twisted me in the wind and left me in a road wrought of my essence.

Merlin’s face loosens to ponder, his head tilts to memory, of trees and winds of distant clouds.

Oph: Shedding skin having hunted you in a city with a disturbing amount of twins, I sought revenge, not supper, you then chopped me with a scabbard blade, almost killing me. Do you remember it?

A memory of soldiers and gallows of dusty roads.

M: You!? Perhaps I should burn you out!
Oph: You dare!

Sino fights the last of aggrieved three, despite bleeding arms and neck. But for battered across midsection, screaming with every shock by the time, he overcomes the final werewolf. The wolves’ hearts outward tears he while almost laughing. Squeezing the blood from a werewolf heart over his head and face he hears shouting from beyond the burning room.

Oph: Fallen, devoted, devour the burning world!

The dead that have risen focus on Merlin, in a gust of wind the proxy of foes tumble and theretofore the ghouls upon him, his hands glow and electricity leaps between his fingers and with their skulls in his hands.

Ophiuchus gradually steps rarely blinking. His host’s eyes are dullening and dry, sullen and red around edges, his tongue flickers mindless with each thought. The dead risen rise yet again, from floors they are bloody, from rubble they are dusty, from fire they are burning, walking toward Merlin who strikes them with his magic. They amass as he swings chairs, commotion brings him to hold a table top as shield only to kick it against a grouping of swarthy several and a bygone burner bashing a bottle of booze to burn them all and raise the acrid flames toward the gods. Forcedly, he jumps thru flames landing to surprise of a knife wound to arm from foe. He sends Ophiuchus to the wall with wind and rescinds the penetration.

The mist becomes light rain pouring enough cloud-cover to allow unnerving twilight.

Oph: I grow tired. Do you feel like dying quickly, Merlin, or should I torture you first?
M: I do appreciate such good timing. It’s good to have choices.
Oph: I think we all do.

Agnar, who some would say is twice the size of Ophiuchus’ host, picks him upward and throws him outward, but he will not be thrown easily, grasping at the sleeves he falls into the base of a wall that buckles, the fire has taken its roof and the rain taken the flames, but the center is a furnace. Ophiuchus digs feet running into the wall’s main beam making it topple onto Agnar. As he avoids fire flourishing and more of the insatiable dead, Agnar pulls himself from the rubble.

Agnar: Clip his wings!

Merlin attacks before the dead find him, thirteen exchanged punches and Merlin breaks Ophiuchus’ hand, he sets the bones and continues fighting.

M: Let’s break something else.

A hammering swing of anger starts eleven more and breaks the same arm, the limb straightens with his sign of pain.

Oph: Why are you so difficult!?

Seven more and he breaks the other arm, but Ophiuchus continues fighting, lame swings and shoving, a head-butt to weak effect.

M: Now I see your final moments.
Oph: I’m slowing you down, right where I want you, give up while you can.

Five absurd swings and he wrenches his foe’s shoulder.

M: What good would come in efforts just.

Three terrible struggles and Merlin kicks the knee to buckle bringing Oph to the ground.

Oph: This isn’t over.
M: Yes, it is… …into the moonlight.

Merlin snaps Ophiuchus’ neck, his body falls surfeit.

Agnar unburies himself by throwing the stones of the wall at the undead, Jonak arrives and cuts his own hand with a knife and speaks a terrible sound.

Jo: Give your hearts to me.

The undead begin tearing out their hearts and offering them to Jonak as they fall around them with black and blood hearts rolling. As Merlin attends to Agnar, Belladonna walks with pestilential fog beside her, she sees the snake master slither from the mouth of the body, to stop it she creates walls of fog to confine its direction. The smoke pains the snake and it moves faster until at the feet of Lilith who takes it between her claws.

Lilith: All this from a familiar…

She examines it squirming, biting her to no affect.

Lilith: I hope it was worth it.

She tilts her head and eats the snake, her eyes begin to close and she moans with a hundred voices, her eyes roll white as the ground and nearby buildings shake.

Lilith: Bittersweet.

Misappropriated Requisition

A political cartoon, a warrior of the times guarding the chalk outline where someone once rested, holding a sign that reads "private property".

I had no choice to respond to this with equal force, to imagine things the right way instead of the errors of reality, or simulation of imagination.

There are all the dreams of humanity, the combinations of obligations, facetiousness, and consideration, all of which are subject to a reigning future.

While the admittance to powerlessness, a river of raindrops and temporary peace, despite opportunity to forget there are some who remember to persevere, into independence, into complicity.

To error is the way of forgetfulness, comparative to crimes of the self, that is to say that we cannot be contrived, but in the manner one endangered animal in a specialized refuge can, for perhaps, become fifty-thousand apex animals, which new arrangements much be made, how wonderful this thought is that entire planets, if not entire galaxies, could be creations in order to let humanity do what it finds natural.

That someone could think that space guarded by the living is not theirs is not inaction, it is activity to avoid a bad feeling, to change for but the sake.

I fear it is a sick many of minds that release the dead like captured pieces no longer exploitable, this is true in unnecessary detested plagues, these are the trivialities of the manipulated truths.

The creationist makes their creations, and the revolutionists continue to misunderstand, without cause to learn the truth of the momentum, which one can block if possible as many can if available it seems, but not understanding ownership a delusion acts in their stead.

If is not property, how can it be taken; if believed that property is wrong, then how are amenities confiscated under confiscation; if property is communal, how is a political body a requirement?

There are clear mistakes alongside trepidation of leadership, those that sign themselves to service and those that assign themselves to charity, these are the many things that fight to control a line that isn't there.

The dependency on dependents, a state requires people that require a state, a redundancy of speculation surrounded by its own gravity, a people require certainties, where the universe does not cease outside of the vacuum.

I cannot follow if I cannot lead, screaming for a challenger, were I to take league with weakness I would make agency of theft, not stronger than the meek, not weaker than my false desires, and soon to insanity I could redirect what I cannot see nor imagine while being blind to the world.

To more the merrier whom can make peace like the sunlight, to surety that less have contributed more than others, while sounding as the fray are oft to do, which hidden in their individualism as a collectivist, find it hard to allow property if they themselves are not property of a collective.

It is not a collective because we begin at different moments in time, as often a pool of blood spills from a single wound, humanity spills across time from its end to beginning, even perhaps in reverse, a gathering of the deathless and the truth of the living.

Al hambre de siete dias, no hay pan duro.

~ proverbio español

ews - dark mirror

it was cold and warmer yet another night, i closed my eyes and began, thru the merciless awakening where the summer trees meet the first autumn rain, and earth spills over the ground to stones with scratchings like welcome, avast aprized afore, never fear of writing like the leaves, without ability to anger for the hunger and the noise, would it break for time of asking or the dead memories escape // tied together,of witch there are many weather found and nevermore, fields of eternal afterlife beyond the boundaries of memory or the skies that press against the skin from days that haven't risen as you fall into the stars, not unlike the unforgiven as a colony of mars, forgive the altruist inquisition or the terror of the river of time, the riveris faster at the end for the sand, but there are the waves gentle and disharmonius would my muscles rips to pieces to break from the depth i don't know all to catch the crying mountain or the drowning feildspring where the ligting chases fire into the bitterest of colds, even the ice know when to break or sink to forests far below where each drop of heaven's vapor coincides with ebb and flow, ifthe sand does all the thinking be the firstot me you show,

I rest on hatred of but not of canvas nor paint, thosetimes when the mind is blind between targets of direction because the blur and focus dance together, aware of situations like this time, i have seen, do i shift from thot to thot while you waitfor ice to throne, would you carry time before you down the river from your bones, the silver wasthe passage, not to lose awareness like a thred of fate i near the proxy and request another soul, i'mnot sure of what I do but this place cannot be home, yet a hole in the ground where the interned can stone their own, where ideas are but a mercy and in fairness, i pause to prove a point, this is what you meant by madness and worthless tho is bothers me, i lash to write the curse without a word, the ink spills as a window breaks, all a burrowing talon of the beast who counts against not hunting until toying with the quary, that this story could be stoped a condensation falsely trims the edges and the pain this hunt alone, should the mountain come to water, an avalance caused by predation unearthing

Understanding Your Singularity

We see the stars at night and the sun at dawn, once wondering why the night ends and the day begins and knowing we can learn more, humanity finds new questions to share and new answers, which we use to ask ourselves the meaning of the universe. What emotional struggles we cannot in duration so quickly know, we let the troubling red sun set and rest until anew.

It may be the most important thing to know if we are the light long overdue of the magnificent night sky, the dawn without rest or dusk without test, but it is important to be aware that the fires of uncountable stars cannot compare to the life of dawn or the mercy of dusk. The light against the surface shines and we share that surface as humanity, the light is the end of energy that cannot exist without a source.

The entity explodes in all directions, times, and modes, we are the singularities in relays of intervals of evolution, to shine against something other than ourselves, as continuous light in transparency.

[crosspost]

Helioscope, I

A welcoming to the moon, the world of wolves manifest, in twilight waves enchantment planetary magic. Now servicing our fears protects our world as the psychic path displaced. That which is seen is first a thought. Random, this human experiment into freedom has vision, the mind imprisoned by ignorance echoes into illusions that surround us. 

A storm of time spins reality around you, the heart and mind are at conflict, mental emotions and emotional decisions cause a loss of gravity. Spiritually breathing is weak against thoughts of switching truth for desires, right now, so beware what is not scientific until the spring winds bring fresh air.  

The chimera spirit of humans is a wolf until the next moon, strong when hunting, a conduit between love and emotion, the sound of infinite dimensions in your birth stone manifests defiance, mainly unnatural dominance over ourselves. 

Distant disasters of modern life are not of the five original elements, neither physical nor genetic, yet are from a gathering negative psychic energy. Threats by the revolutionists are faint epidemics of the psychic fever. Continents could flash with madness, sometimes mercy is attacked by those with the madness. 

By each disconnect from illusion, we deeper find our physical activity and the plenty of work, our mind, body, spirit. Each integration into dharma we explore new universes as more than spectators, which permits us to know the realm of possibility. 

Be thru a complete awakening, deep into your thoughts lose control, thoughts are of the personality ignored and chosen all the same. Despite the brightness of the sun, the time and space passes thru itself as itself.

Of Darkness Spawned

The fourth age in its own place, a place of a new name all the same mislabeled, common misconception, thereon diviners to trapped souls, the ancient prison of the mind, traditional ideas guessing ideas of tradition, by the breath of the living a song those teaching themselves sunk into the great sky ocean and could not find the air.

The darkness made loud thunder from the clouds of every storm, but there were none to brave the storm to drown with them, the thunder hoped the mountains would come to the depths of the sea, but the clouds weighed on the water and the lightning struck the swimmers and set the rain to brimstone fires, those not struck breath sulfur. The darkness contained the fire because no light was brought by day. At the edge of darkness stood the harvesters of souls and spoke their ancient unknown words and rang their pointless and pointlessly named bells as they consume the ghosts of the lost.

The darkness attacked the sun and the king of gods strikes the darkness down, it loses and is dragged like all before it as the harvesters and the coming day watch, to the deep darkness beneath the world tree.

At the end of the roots began the light that is sound, new darkness as light and new light as darkness, there the ghosts of those who the gods will not permit to raptures delight must do the works of mental prisons, digging dirt that is not there, laying bricks that are not spare, those who are consumers of the human spirit are forced to chronicle each entrant and exiter without their mouths for eternity that they may not speak or feed on life, the demons laugh and rejoice amongst the valley beneath the world, joying and pleasuring while the prisoners of the underworld serve no purpose without interaction as the pets of dark menagerie, occasionally fed to the beasts from before the darkness. 

Unto the old ways where the water is wind and the earth is fire toward the high throne of the order of necromancy, unto the queen of demons, her gaze unto her loyal inspires torture of wicked souls, she gazes left to right and right to left and the screams of the silent become waves of writhing misery as symphony to she the source of the lost witch diamonds and snakes of amnesia, two hourglasses allow her to consume thousands of years with each instant, without costume or idea she rises, by the blood in the air her gown becomes armor marked by the pentagram. 

The teeth of the death queen bleed, her scream becomes her breath by so the creature called darkness that the god king delivers enters her lungs, she regains her shadow once sent to make an ocean of blood, her blood becomes darkness and eyes of fire her hands become sharpened talons and her bones of metal and attacks the god king. 

They collide and the filth of the underworld echoes overcoming all lesser sounds, a thunder in a cave of unholy disorder, she is without fear as sound and light are one in explosion. The god king tears the tail from a dragon and cracks its many blades and stones as a whip, the sharpened scales cut into his hand to pain handled only by gods to better grip, she strikes his face and cuts the water of his eye releasing fire and magic bringing blind and thirsty demons to consume him, they are the insatiable and ravenous, he tears the dragon's wing and with talons of wing and whip of tail of scales of blades clears path to clash, but the royal demoness tears thru his shield and cries acid onto him, he throws her into the distance and her eyes are as they were at the beginning, he begins to pain from the venom and his skin begins burning with bright fire. 

He tears a bone from the wing and throws it as a spear, piercing her and her heart to the floor, again a second bone, this time his footsteps the thunder, the demons cease approach and gnaw on the prisoners of the underworld now again, he tears at his smoking skin and sheds as would any snake, she leaps the length of many bodies, tearing the spears thru herself to attack him, a rage anew, all of her teeth he strikes at her impaling does she him her hands into his chest, wickedly laughing and wailing of bliss back and forth she bleeds into the god king, his memories become predictions his strength becomes cold, as he falls the snakes of hell envenom him and he bites the demon witch, as if to scream to speak she blinks but only once before he rips out her heart, her ribs are scimitars and flay his hands and yet he removes it, tearing it out with her shadow soul attached. 

The demons rise to avenge her, he stands bloodied by the damned and things of the holy sun, this is the summons of the archangels who spread wings to hide him and push wind to deliver him to the clouds and the black heart of the demon into the sun itself where all demons must bath in the fire of the sky.  

More-Commoner-Sense

Thread: Alternative Anxiety Supplements

as one of those people with calculated people skills, great for internet tho, the more I work out, the calmer I get, but for the normal person, stress is caused by actual physical stress, too much gym without rest time is way stress mode, it could even be too much pillow folding your neck, bad posture the whole day, or maybe rigidity like knots because not stretching; 

There's also your nutrition, sugar/bread/carbs crashes, not for nothing, i'm good with stimulants, coffee, tea, other, etc, (to a point) and a a total mess with depressants, i can't toke/drink (tequila is a wildcard) and didn't even know it until as of late, I can't hang with those, you could be the opposite, or it could easily be - too much of - a good thing stressing the body, mind; 

AND there's also the focus, aside from fuel and lifting, sometimes early to bed, early to rise, sorta, and pray/meditate, I always have to add, but I have to defragment my thoughts now and then, maybe you need REM sleep, or stimulating conversation, entertaining experiences, action, adventure! 


* i told you so crew *

Under the commune

Victor Hugo - Wikiquote:
Socialism, or the Red Republic, is all one; for it would tear down the tricolour and set up the red flag. It would make penny pieces out of the Column Vendome. It would knock down the statue of Napoleon and raise up that of Marat in its stead. It would suppress the Académie, the Ecole Polytechnique, and the Legion of Honour. To the grand device Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity, it would add "Ou la mort." It would bring about a general bankruptcy. It would ruin the rich without enriching the poor. It would destroy labour, which gives to each one his bread. It would abolish property and family. It would march about with the heads of the proscribed on pikes, fill the prisons with the suspected, and empty them by massacres. It would convert France into the country of gloom. It would strangle liberty, stifle the arts, silence thought, and deny God. It would bring into action these two fatal machines, one of which never works without the other—the assignat press and the guillotine. In a word, it would do in cold blood what the men of 1793 did in fever, and after the grand horrors which our fathers saw, we should have the horrible in all that was low and small.

• Statement of May 1848, as quoted in Paris Under the Commune : Or, Seventy-Three Days of the Second Siege (1871) by John Leighton

-

I, the dreamer

to close my eyes and write about dreaming, that which I was, therefore an exploration it will be, that thru the expert opinion and freeform demands it is that I regret to've seen myself, a disappointing reflection of others and my amnesia as a host, I tear out my heart for those things, the warmth of the sun, sleeping thru existential soundwaves of the divine thought echoing and radiating and consuming purity of wavelength from the center of the universe, when i think that thre are endless count of alternate identical universes i bide my time in this omniverse and seek the negatives of each that we forgoe ourselves to mention of mirrors and the deepest of hearts, I mind my soul, alone as I must, but I know there are not my own, this castigating game of , a secret passage to a place I've once been, the ability to go around what is not there and the sunlight washes the mountain and the rain and river wash down it, each drop an ocean, each ocean a wall that the sand cannot cross, each time this sane and vibrant history seems to fit, when the sync of hearts all beat like an engine forward, my thoughts misplace me, there are no problems here, this place is not the resting hole of the universe, all is well, up is down and day is night, the mountains grow, the sea recedes beneath my feet and the distant-stretching shore vast and mighty pushes into the ocean, the land into the stars, the air into my mind again i respect the ancients, and as I let them guide me, even their weakest lets you kill each other like the tools as toys of a butcher's child, a game of chance, a sport of chess, what miracles come by playing both sides, to wit I mayn't watch your foolish game, for i am a reflection of myself and must blind into my own I/eyes, radiant expression, blind compulsion, sympathy for the structure of our molecules, combined within the history and thought a new faces in the storms of blood like fog and mysteries in the haze of storms while lightning washes and fire falls from the skies, to've said what you are then i dare against you, the ground moves beneth my feet, detrimental, discontiguous, where by burden met are sympathies unkown for times unsown and I stitch the night over you all to the horison as the stars spin over you are crestfallen in delight and unbridled rage without spite, have I spent the last for the first thought, and yet I open my eyes to this.

Los Idus

A donde yo estuve...

Inmediatamente después los avisos trataron explicar la historia y futura del estado del camino, una tormenta breve se roto el aire, inteligentes lo se encanta por un guion para un planeta oscurecido desde nos mismos, puse hacer más. Las significantes habían generado interés políticamente y diplomáticamente, políticos quienes sigan el paso se incluyen tu y yo.

Su tiempo de memoria a vosotros, por un rato, al que casi lo venga creer fue elegido de termina a toda la gente. El negocio, fue previsto de reponer la familia, las cartas provecho estaba el ruido, entonces por ambos evolución superó a todo.

Distinto de naciones con poder tras la prometa aprovecharse, de actualidad de oportunidad, a lo mismo cualquiera centralizado, la red está fracturado y conectado lo que está dirigido intrínsecamente y extrínsecamente, privatizado y organizado.

He vino defender el mercado y su estado, preservar muchas oportunidades a votos de confianza durante a los derechos humanos, dondequiera las fronteras se fallan. Amenazas en sombres, seguridad debajo de democracia siempre eternal, sin certeza, permanencia y absolución, se asegurado.

El estado tenga que realizar de sobrevivir, analistas y espías personificado el cambio al mismo tiempo que la responsabilidad del estado cayó. Algunas convergieron al lugar del fuerte, otros las fronteras, mesclando para retaliación se nacen de fronteras nuevas grandiosas.

Honor en comparación es definido por adaptación legales, fiscales y estratégico a un mundo del que derechos y militares cruzan todos los partes, mercados globales dan miedo al viejos y viejecitos igualmente. Regímenes y carteles sirvan socavar costumbres y culturas para el mercado público que se hablan la palabra de libertad.

Buscan para un mercado personificado por liderazgo, no encontraron nada. No lo intentaron ser como éste, que esperaban triunfar con liberalismo a pesar del hecho y lo después. Les decimos un mercado elegido para y por consumidores le supera, les entandaron que automáticamente los deseos de los recipientes eran lo mismo.

Que distancia hemos venido desde lo aprendimos. El junto del cete ha crecido a todos y empieza incluir los locos de nueva, a los de quienes abandonan o refuerzan sus fortalezas algunas de aquellos se ha alcanzado locura pura, el mascara ha caído y somos videntes todos.

...en los idus de marzo.

M358 – Climactic Degradation

Merlin 3:58 – Climactic Degradation

The werewolves search high and low, reacting to attacks while smelling and looking, growling and rooting out anything that breathes, from loft to loft scaring children, but in effect a mighty culling, any sick body taken beast of hand by throat and almost thrown into the streets, the larger berserkers inspecting them in the street, captors not killers release them more wounded fright embrace. They run by the phoenix in disregard and it the same of them.

Troy sees Sino in the street, unsure of allegiance and candor, learning from watching him end the life of someone, whom, however innocent, is seen with a fearful pale face near Sino’s nightmarish malice. Sino pulls his hand slinging red blood against Troy’s white skin, his boots in cadence laden to swagger unofficial and revenge, magic by one hand pins Troy against a windowsill, the other reaches for him, only passed him into the window Sino breaks the neck of an undying infected misfortunate soul, but not before Troy has daggered him.

Sino smiles of narrowed eyes and blood-filled mouth, his bracelets and rings collide against themselves and shatter the waves of echoing furor and calamity that bindles fear as kindling to rampant chaos, he pulls the blade and licking blood cuts his tongue, tossing the blade to the ground he departs, seeing Kylesa in the distance having watched one-sidedly ever quite the spy.

Troy follows Sino, realizing that he is being stalked he tries to evade, by intent he now follows Troy. Kylesa draws bow ready to attack one of them, she saves Troy with an arrow and Sino disappears. He reappears behind her.

Sino: For god and country, now?
Ky: The plan is to live, and I MAKE no promise in my desires.
Sino: The plan is unchanged.
Ky: You were going to kill him. How does that fit plans?
Sino: He stabbed me, so I took his knife out like this, and split my tongue, overacting.

Troy: Put down the knife!

Sino takes Kylesa hostage, Troy shoots an arrow, which Sino holds patient and moves at the final second to take no wound yet appears to fall over wall. Her prestigious disguise remains intact.

Kylesa: Oh, for king and country, you’ve found me!
Troy: Are you okay?




/ch

M357 Outnumbering the Day

Merlin 3:57 Outnumbering the Day

Ophiuchus stands to let a new arrival have his seat, but shakes the newcomer’s hand and transfers most virulent contagion, he begins to see thru the eyes of the poisoned man. The vision of death is the same for all the undead, dying with their eyes closed.

The convulsions of the victim are distraction from the blackening eyes, many gather to assist and in Merlin’s approach his knife. A glimpse of a rapier dagger and Ophiuchus enters rage and infectious desire, his eyes glowing red his death magic turns the dying to carnivorous demons, entering home after home to rip and tear and mar and spoil the living, the wounded begin growing against repression, the dead are not dead.

Troy follows them where they lead, trying to save as many of the defenseless in the commotion as able. Agnar, roaming the streets finds and fights Ophiuchus, but a hand of dirty nails not infectious as he shows a symbol of protection carved into the arm from once the bones and the serpent devil escapes the slow giant. The phoenix walks the streets slowly, as if hunting, investigating, wary of corners and blithe to the infected, the cursed burn on contact like dead leaves to embers, it worries of larger monster. Troy kills a hexed cannibal only to be bitten in the leg, the phoenix shows him that its feathers purge the potential infection of black magic like water in the wind. His inamorata Kylesa watches keenly.

Digr, returning to the city, encounters werewolves, coyly they watch, spitefully they wait, then launch at him and it is all effort given to sink them and escape. They tear at the ground and bit each other to pull themselves to ground and mend when running once more.

Sino carves runes into his arms, again a primal disharmonious link with fondness of blood, a city soldier thinks the self-carving is the cause of all anarchy and frivolously encounters a specific truth in concerns. Sino deeply finds humor in murder, ever-trying to impress death’s messengers. In doing so Lilith brings her own message rising from a pool of burning blood, fervent dementia and courtesan of war, fewer precious moments are telling of elsewhere, as many soldiers spear her Sino watches with genuine intrigue. The infected walk down the street, Merlin walks up it, thru them to find disaster, cutting them down where he must with the touch of light, close enough to face danger if gnashed. The phoenix flies from the werewolves with Troy barely holding as up the walls they try to follow and Kylesa in flight to follow. At the rooftop the vampire scouts attack, one of the werewolves does not escape death and returns a paler, more fragile human without transition. From the summit they see Katina and Braden, he uses silver to create intense flashes that turn the physical into ashes, she absorbs the vacant energy and calls lightning to her aid, joined one thunders, one flashes.

Lilith and Merlin apart are drawn to the noise, Sino and Ophiuchus apart go to higher ground. Braden and Katina siege strong against the night, as the numbers of the infected surround him he tosses a handful of coins spinning thru the air, the explosions scattering across them blows holes into buildings, connecting the blasts is Katina’s lightning that washes Lilith’s skin without harm. She walks between the flying explosions as doorways of fire, soon closest to them emerging from burning wind. She waves her magic hand and the infected fall lifeless and deathless.

Lilith: Merlin! We have rules about dancing with the dead!
Merlin: Calm your minions of hell!
Lilith: Neither here nor there nor mine!

Close proximity three infected approach her, again they fall where they are cast to sleep. She speaks to Merlin.

Merlin: They are infectious and feel I to a trap for me is beset.
Lilith: Only amongst silence from the dead do men dare think, find Sino, my beasts will have their bones.

Merlin departs and Lilith stands, smelling the fires of death and plague of man in the air. The cursed rise and approach her as if servants of the underworld, three from earlier whom two of the left and right fall as souls to the underworld without redemption, the centermost she graces her fingers across his face. He heals moribund, a head hung unbecomingly in the tread. The wind passes under the rain-soft clouds, thru the breeches of sullen boughs of a surrounding white oak forest, the cursed man begins healing, curing him hither incarnate the crack of bone to tear a breach, she gathers the otherwise idle mind and forces him to watcher her lick his lifeless heart.

She bites into the heart and begins a roar of many as the demon mother of all werewolves, several of the pack arrive.

Juan: What is it, den-mother?

Lilith tears the head from the dead.

Lilith: These are puppets, of something that has been near Sino!
Tiw: We will hunt.
Lilith: The same skin as these, but eyes like mine, find it alive and alive bring it to me!

Sharp and alert hunters their shoulders raise and claws dig into the soils and begin their hunt.

Belladonna spies from around a wall with Varin, Lilith notices her.

Lilith: Come to me, daughter of the order.
Bella: Mother of all poisons?
Lilith: Why do you cower at the border to freedom?
Bella: “Flora kept by Fauna” I pare the tree to the underworld, but I am too weak to survive the onslaught.
Lilith: Can you consume contagion?
Bella: Yes.
Lilith: Then save your friend.

Lilith walks by him and his veins become black as he foams at the mouth, she walks into a burning wall to vanish. Bella begins to absorb Varin’s demise, she grows strong with him, her eyes brightened by the light, her vision darkened by the night, her skin healthy burns into heat and her sleeves bother her so she burns them, her power mighty surge preternatural fueled by the air, he chokes and gasps returning to life. Barefoot thru the street with eyes of bright darkness, roots of poison fill the earth from each step.

She heals who she can and they fall cured and torn from lucidity, those who she cannot fully heal cry writhing at the moon that their lives will succumb to the disease and as their eyes begin to cloud of carnal insanity, as such gathers a fog which causes them to dry rot like old trees and fall into the mist. The breath of the vale between land and sky, as wind searches trees the werewolves search streets, and immune are still slowed by the outbreak of the undead, which has Merlin returning to Ana and Nick.

Merlin: Are you okay?
Ana: If it stays warm we might survive!
Merlin: Who are these men?
Nick: With both sides burning, this might be the only place left from her, when they noticed that she was keeping us safe…
Merlin: They came to protect her.
Nick: Nation men, but not wizards.
Ana: And not for long! We’ll need rain or relocate!
Merlin: How long?
Ana: If I have this baby in a burning building in the asshole of the universe I’m naming after me and killing you both! Rain, Merlin!

Merlin suggests the men give him distance as he begins to let tattoos glow, to clear streets and whet fires.

/ch