Monday, February 25, 2013

Friday, February 22, 2013


I think this documentary is a great demonstration of why things are unraveling in Western society. The reasons most of us live in a dream-state are many and debatable, but I don't think one can argue and say that Western people are "awake". We live under a total control system where television rules, where societal elites are worshiped. We as "the people" rarely see ourselves as having any degree of worth unless we're recognized in some fashion by the control devices that surround us.

People who we consider "weak" transfer their *will to power to those who we consider "strong". In a society that does not ground itself in God, people look for gods amongst themselves. God should be the only transfer object. God recognizes us. Honestly, one will never be able to find the meaning one really needs in another person, a government or any sort of social class or group. The strong person/group in the transfer dynamic is just as anxiety-ridden (and, feels just as worthless) as those of us who transfer up to him/it; the only difference is that the strong person/group has a vital ego compared to the under-developed one of those who transfer up. So, in effect, the relationship is symbiotic: both parties need each other to survive. But, when we're talking about person-to-person/group transference, the inevitable result of the relationship is always disappointment and resentment, and it's disappointment and resentment on both sides of the dynamic.

In a society where the majority do not transfer out to a source that is truly immortal, but, rather, transfer up to others amongst us who are just as fallible as ourselves, you will see exactly what is happening to us now. Implosion.

Part of Nietzsche's philosophy.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Ephesians 6:12

"For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places."

Monday, February 18, 2013

The Birth Of Dreams - by James Bychowski

A mist raised a sound to the sun in the blue
After thousands of years it shared what it knew

The mist felt related to cosmic abstraction
It believed that it could say what we all wanted answered

It gathered itself and rose up toward heaven
It spread in a garden to state its contention

When the sun lit the leaves and stirred all the insects
Our Lord asked the mist to reveal its pure affect

“I’ve come to you Lord, I know we speak daily
When you light up the green fields, I steam in the valleys

I seep in the homes, fill the beds of your people
I know what they’re thinking, I know how they feel

They know they’re on earth, they know they’re alive
They’ve souls joined with tissue, a light trapped inside

I’m asking you—free them!—they’re stopped up with fear
Lost spirits abandoned, they don’t know you care

They’re crying for someone, their music it moans
Organic existence, the earth’s not their home!

I wonder so often why they don’t cut their necks
Jump from the mountains, expire in the depths

But, all of them move, they keep moving forward
They roll through the days over and over

And, all through the time they twist up their souls
Their hearts ache from beatings, their blood’s full of trolls

These pug little agents who whisper false purpose
Most pinned by the insult and quit ‘cause it hurts less

Others advance, they’ve a force built by parents
They carry their essence toward trouble and challenge . . .”

The mist took a breath and thinned to a soft shade
It spread even lower, there was more that it couldn’t say

The sun steamed the garden, Lord cast a true wisdom
He bestowed divine privilege to strengthen his children

The snake had them tranced-out, always searching around them
They were held by the symbols, they were transferred to idols

“The mist said, ‘. . . the force . . .’”, our Lord thought in private
“This hand that the snake used, the grip he’d been hiding . . .”

The sun heat the garden, he drew the mist upward
Then spoke all that follows, Lord issued his answer

“The force is the echo, its content is vital
‘Cause humans are dual, split by a snake smile

The frames know they’re dying, they fear their sure end
But, they know that they carry a glow that’s been sent

A patch of my fire, a child’s view of the light
A thunder of space beams, explosions of might

They burst in the moments, feel freedom forever
Discard all the others who jail their potential

That’s when the whispers, those things you call trolls
Force them to retreat, rejoin with the cold
This mass of the humans who lay with the devil
Who build a collective, persuade all the fearful

That I am not for them, that I’m just a phantom
A candy-coat dreamscape where souls are abandoned

Every time that they rejoin, this ‘force’ does develop
Soon all of my children are actors who forget

That their insides are my light, that their souls are eternal
That the life of a body is mystic and evil

Coerced by a serpent in a jailed dimension
I warned them, they ate it, now they inhabit it with him

Bend to me closely I’ve words for you, mist
A pain for the children you have to inflict . . .”

Sun thundered in mist, he belted it like death
He shouted for war on the heat of his breath

“Light all their fires, raise all their fists!
Covert all the dour ‘til none of them quit!”
A command was then whispered, an exchange from the true Lord
To our friend from the valley who’d known it was much more

The mist turned to tears and fell through the light
Water spun prisms as it rolled from the sky

It soaked in the grass and rushed all the rivers
It filled all the urns it came to deliver

The sun held its place as the west moved away
The camps of the people went from colors to grays

And, when the dark and the mist appeared in the valleys
The cold of the evening laid watch as it always

As eternal, an abstraction, it mixed with the sleep fields
Broke into the dark depths, played pictures for God’s people

- James Bychowski -

Black Paper - by James Bychowski

A black piece of paper
In a slow wind of doom
Drip drop a raindrop
Ignite a witch broom

An armload of dead wood
Tied into a faggot
Old men work hard lives
Their women can't care less

- James Bychowski -

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

William S. Burroughs

Q: The Beat/Hip axis, notably in such figures as Ginsberg, want to transform the world by love and non-violence. Do you share this interest?

Wm B: Most emphatically, no. The people in power will not disappear voluntarily, giving flowers to the cops just isn't going to work. This thinking is fostered by the establishment; they like nothing better than love and non-violence. The only way I like to see cops given flowers is in a flower pot from a high window.

-- An excerpt from "The Job: Interviews With William S. Burroughs" --