Monthly Archives: October 2003

sorta funny maybe

2003 October 28 – 8:45 pm
By mkl | Posted in (#_#) | Comments (0)

I Who Have Nothing Lyrics

2003 October 24 – 7:20 pm
I, I who have nothing…

Verse I: Ikon

Intersections in real time
The umbro can circle in dimensions of the mind
Atomic bonds
The eternal time that defines
The vanity of my insanity in thru time
Will shine
Like the night seeds under the moon
The haunted corners of familiar rooms
Yet i’m consumed
With vanishing into thin air
The realization that this shit is my cross to bare
So where
Did I think I could run away to see
The people that decided to leave without asking me
But we
Decide to wait for happier tomorrows
And find someone so they can be distractions from our sorrows
For my distractions the books of paper that i’ve scrawlened
I’m eloquent in summer breeze and leaves just have fallen
I crawl in a corner hoping all of this will end
With the knowledge that love is just another word for revenge
I who have nothing but the comfort of my sins
I who have nothing but the comfort of my friends

Chorus:

I, I who have nothing
I, I who have no
I, I who have nothing
I, I who have no

Verse II: Ikon

As I decay, demons prey above me like a vulture
Ability to endure contradiciton is a high sign of culture
Verbal sculptures, self defacing
It is not God or lunacy that I am facing
But the erasing of the purity and passion of my words
The herds of cattle babble on with talk of the absurd
But I preferred
To walk away from all the feuds
To find my life is more confusing than a rubic’s cube
So i’m subdued
In all my words of verbal prods

To live alone one must be an animal or a God
But it’s official
All of my pain is clear as crystal
The natural side of life has now been seeming artificial
But I can hit you
And rest assured that i’ma last words
I could give a fuck about ya secrets and ya passwords
I can pass words with the ability to hurt you
Patience is a virtue and knowledge is a ?commercial?
I who have nothing but the pain that I refer to
I who have nothing but the pain that I refer to

Chorus

Verse III: Ikon

Lost among the miracles, I stand alone
And i’ve grown into a being that’s sitting on top of throne
I’ve known
For many years that I would turn to rust
I find a reason for another breath
Before my return to dust
I become one with science and mathematic and the rising of the sun
I’m numb
To all of those who blinded cannot see
The chastiser of the enemy
Perception requires duality
Inspect ya soul, the color of coal inside the body
I have hardly, come across them who’s holy
Send them to the cherubim to control thee
Burning of the sun and frigidness of the cold
The battle field is new but the war is now old
You can never see the merest shadow of a halo
Above the head of evil jin who’s deadly like tornado
The world has become an aquarium
Full of gaping fish with murderous mouths
I on the other hand stand on the outside looking in
Writing down murderous files
I who have nothing but the lack of variation
And I who have nothing but chains and suffocation

Chorus

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130

2003 October 24 – 3:31 am

peace

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2 3 1 0 2 z z 3

2003 October 24 – 2:46 am

“how far can you see your possible future? some people has long-term plans, most of you have some, why don’t you?
or just any plans? concern your future. to care or not to care?”

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morning calibration of Ov

2003 October 22 – 5:01 pm

all hail zenseid. let’s stream: the love is no longer the law. the time to reformulate the aroundness. the tree of life: sephiroths are no longer connected by the paths. there is no linearity, look around. the law of thelema fades away. the world did not accept it. look around. there is no love under will. there is no love, in order to possess which one must be able to will. another illusion. why should we demand the manifestation of will from all the biomuse around? expecting so we are feeble, focusing our attention on imagined shadows. this is not true that the love may bind what is divided. bullshit. look around. this is an excuse for accepting immediate reality, to say: the love bounded this and this. fucking bullshit. all happens all the time, why call forth the term ‘love’ - so drained from meaning, conotated with certain sort of chemical imbalance: eros, filos, agape; there is nothing to bind, nothing to join, try to join two fucking stones! try it! or try to live with more than one partner (ok, I agree, this is stupid exaple, thnx sor.A.Q). everything happens, the margin of possible deeds, moves we can take is very narrow. we may call it the will. ok. but to derive from this marginal activity the principle of love… it is ridiculous. the love serves as an excuse for the choices we make. how many choices had you made to please your carnal self using the love as an excuse? to accept… the most magickal act human animal may undergo. there is no secret path, no secret doctrine. anyone claiming the possession of the secret knowledge and ready to share this knowledge through an initiatory system should be fucked well. all we may become is biological, the illumination is within the reach of every, no matter how demented human being. this law is for all, so is it the law still? just an observation of a chunk of reality and should we call forth this fucking word: the law? saturn. this is the matter of maturity. maturity is the matter of experience. experience comes in small, often painful doses in every natural path of initiation organized by the highest order of memes we are floating in. all hail multiverse! painful, because we know the death of the moment is always near, here, now. may we live long enough to be blessed by saturn. biological programme - the prosperous (saturnians) are old. (while others they may be blessed by jupiter, go high in the age of 20 and fall down in the mid 40. or the others may wait for their respective planetary genius to manifest in the dark bag of their skin… how long? this always takes full life. what’s then? what’s then?) the system, the ritual: ridiculous attempt to avoid responsibility. the path of sephirots dissolved. quantuum jumps are the only option, from malkuth to ain soph, from binah to ain, tiphareth being the very core of perception. collecting the skills walking back and forth on the tree of life is no more. rather popping out here and there, staring with the senses wide open, still shot of piruet, a moment given as an illusion of the process caught in a silent moment. every act is a sigil. organic is the knowledge and the pleasure comes right after this way. plain life. a dream. no creed. there is nothing stable. even if there were some memes identified as the law they had already grew up or withered in this nice non-linear manner and are no longer. no longer is. i are iing. the stability is the matter of choreography. from the middle of swirling chaosphere, its 8*t telescopes point simultanously in the direction of locally stable events only to swing back the moment before we have noticed the loss. blessed be the change and reconfiguration. cursed are thee who pro-im-pose false responsibility, spreading inefficient memes, illusion of free-dom. freedom calls for its price and the joy is what is priceless. fuck the ritual. fuck every description of action that does not come from the clouds around your chaosphere. fuck everything artificial. devour and vomit: let ‘the will’ does not bother you any longer. already you are and you must deal with it.

peace and love for my brothers and sisters-)
mkl

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2003.10.02

2003 October 10 – 11:37 pm

I am smoking ganges, drinking white wine. I am thinking. Kurwa, this what I do best is to think. I think I must be patient. Do not provoke, do not expect. what did halopro say? ‘acknowledge teh wave, ride on’ The wave can not be created. Or does it seem to me that it can? I am drinking the wine, smoke ganges. the pope is in bad shape, one has to pray for him. I am drinking german white wine. this is the act one can suround to. to let the wine flow down the throat and do nothing more. like walking the mountais. some possess similar ease to sing, write or to live in a herd. I don’t belong to them. 23:11 c.e.t.

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126

2003 October 10 – 10:53 pm
four-strings cloudmonger
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125

2003 October 10 – 10:43 pm
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124

2003 October 10 – 9:54 pm

-)

“to rest is also a doing aimed at reaching the constancy and the power”

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123

2003 October 8 – 10:34 pm

violent buddhist

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The Dream Of A Shadow Of Smoke

2003 October 8 – 8:51 pm
“So is every man. He is born in vanity and sin. He comes into the world like morning mushrooms, soon thrustling up their heads into the air, and conversing with their kindred of the same production, and as soon as they turn to dust and forgetfulness, some of them without any other interest in the affairs of the world, but that they made their parents a little glad and very sorrowful…”

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

“Others ride longer in the storm, maybe until seven years of vanity be expired and then, preadventure, the sun shines hot upon their heads, and they fall into the shades below, into the cover of death and darkness and the grave to hide them. But if the bubble stands the shock of a bigger drop, and outlives the chance of a child or a careless nurse, or drowning in a pail of water, or being overlaid by a sleepy servant, or such little accidents, then the young man dances like a bubble, empty and gay, and shines like a dove’s neck, or the image of a rainbow, which has no substance, and whose very imagery and colours are fantastical. And so he dances out the gaiety of his youth, and is all the while in a storm, and endures only because he is not knocked on the head by a drop of bigger pain, or crushed by the pressure of a load of undigested meat, or quenched by the disorder of an ill-placed humour.

Homer calls man a leaf, the smallest; Pindar calls him the dream of a shadow, another, the dream of a shadow of smoke; but St. James spake, by a more excellent spirit,saying our life is but a vapour, that is to say, drawn from the air by a celestial influence, made of smoke and the lighter parts of water, tossed by the wind and moved by the motion of a superior body, without virtue in itself and lifted up on high or left below, according as it pleases the demands of its foster fathers…”

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

In my mind is the sound
Of rudderless ships
A time, and a time
And a time
And a time
So much silence
Deafens our ears
So much emptiness
Hinders our movements
Lost in the earth
And lost in the air
Around my hollow globe
Broken feathers
Blocking my words
And the no-one speaks
Oh no-one moves
Broken in snow
The sun bares teeth
So one: I shall build a boat
Two: I shall not fly a flag
Three, three, three:
God’s three functions
So three: I shall cross myself
Four: and hope to die

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