How do we hear the heroic horns trumpeting as the storm rages, And not hear the wise raven in its aftermath? The hero is but a blinding burst of flame, vanishing toward the sky, look neither to the sky nor to the ground then! To hear those cannons firing as the lust throttles the heart, The drumming of approaching darkness, The grand overture of Time, And the melody of stillness passes through us. The darkness of winter merely redirects the light, Reflecting it into oneself, into the unknown. We walk into the sun and hear the cymbals crashing! But into the gloom, we struggle to hear the pianist’s serenade. What joyous bellows, cheers, rhapsodic and rapturous songs, Left unconsummated by the silent hunter.
Wisdom is the experience of death, The void caressing the soul with The great pain of infinity. Who can say when the time comes, That they saw the earth move? That they peered into the distance? That no words were spoken? That no great power was had? That nothing was possessed, it all passed through? It is that one may die only well, Having practiced dying in moments. Few can see all in the least, While most can see so little in all.
"like a devils flower, coldblodded in intent "we shall be torn in sydneys despair"
"and music sprung from her wrist and angels above fell into it´s snare,
"it was midnight, the streets of europe alight," why do these boys always fuck it up, with their fucking sex magick a hippie gossiped to two girls wired on cocaine,
"yeah, and i just wanted to fuck my ex, he just came back from eastern vacation whispered a big titted brunette with sticky cum in her hair"
her cock was throbbing hard, jesus moaned with pleasure, his filthy anus, torn apart he couldn´t get enough, and something inside him wanted to die, as she kept fucking him,
"nature express the violence humanity longs for"
"now we crave a higher type of man, a natural born killer who doesn´t abstain from violent expression, to lit up streets and congreate dangers allure"
"a mirror to human kinds aspirations" "a kind which thou defieth danger and sirens song"
"the city late at night hit a pinnacle" new wave girls infused with fire from below dancing, under shivas envious clouds, purple-glow cocaine-bestowed streets from above like metamoprh avenues and edm bangers, in nights pure, like summers nue, and the angels saw it was fair and engines electrified, up, and then they made noise"
kids hooked on ipods and pure cocaine defile churches in eve´s sinful flory jesus drenched in red wine, filthy roses, spermophobic, deviance and gauccis whispering "brava"
for where doeth thy heart linger? swayeth forth by shadows, or drunk despair? doeth their envy cut, or doeth it embrace? doeth it lift or doeth it amend? doeth it eerie, doeth it bleed? doeth it glow in vengeace? or swayeth in winters mourning, doeth it shatter, like vida´s mirror prestrange?
for pictures bleed in sinners grace, he said this we can agree, that a shot is not a blitz and a blitz is a flowers martyr,
"for love isn´t like heroin, if it was, we´d all be saint´s cause love purifies, and needles only sting for an hour"
"doeth pussy mock, or doeth it empower, he shook his head, when will they collide" when will stars sing, in airy´s divine breath?
´kirstine´ ´nordic venus´ du stråler af stjerneskær, dit dope flow fucker piger op i storbygadernes lys"
´venus´ and her crowded youth, march, in futuristic style, "nordenia europe", angels weep, she crush parties infaomous, in style and reverenceinfusing ´major minus´ black dystopic streets with "ynde" and ´technidrug-rush´
´jeg voldtog lægeinden med min monsterpik, stak den ind i halsen på hende, hun skreg af nydelse, hendes halsreceptorer følte pikkens ultraviolete vibrationer, og dag jeg kom i hendes søde mund, og spermen flød, i det øjeblik "forvandlede hun sig til "gudinden sophia",
she´s a bad blonde, she steal fun wherever she flaunts, rosy cities crack under her winged legs a godess? sure, though not a godess for the fain´t hearted, shes hot like chili, though sweet like berries´
´she´s every rich mans slut, he said, a domitrix, dangerous and wild, like wind that never settles" her tits he said in a confident tone, flirts hard´
´for what is a common woman´s ´sexuality´ in relation to ´music´ a laughing stock, a painful embarassment, like a broken rhyme, a filthy playact which slander and devour noble souls, "rennaisance" would scorn at such infidelity masking it´s hollow pain in shallow hyperbole´
´wired on techni, venus kill, in eerie ´technilyd´ her dope glory, her ´ipod flow´ linked to godess sophia´s grace´
´which devilry is she? a "centaur" which taunt witches in old towns, where winter has not yet settled it´s snow, like a fiery rose, oh "shadow they cry" maidens of old, shadow, lead us to belials foul lair, so we can drinketh and slander, like white crows anew´
´fuck! she screamed, volutpous ´godess´ and innocent angels fell for her snare, and "heaven" wept ´her tits, kill and purify´
´he´ raped ´grangers´ mouth, she trhilled at his big cok, she craved so bad to be fucked in her tight bunny orifices"
´thy dom-godess, she rewinds time, and crush princesses, and fare to futurisms glow, where "alice" falter and nymphs sing your augmented hymns"
´whereforth did she, the maiden of innocence gaze upon the "nights sky" and her "blue ray" eyes shallow despair, singeth´
´oh romeo, ye shackles fall on my breasts, ye breath, like hollow air, caress like poison, hence my tender lips fade in your ferveren embrace´
´pose", speak not to me of such infidelity" oh, musings, paintings you lit, amusement you share, at night, in dawns despair, thy reverend angels descend and springs rosy blossom awail´
´oh, streets sang, like a church´s hymn, she popped concrete, and her lush, crush clocks,
´for whence did ´gods´ judgeth that she´d act the villain and that summer´s smile should fade into thorn abyss and rosy despair´
´did harry potter not secretly whisper in hollow corridors, rape me domtrix, and break my shallow spells´
de extraterrestielle bestøver menneskeheden med teknologisk ynde menneskeheden opløftes med smart drugs og supersensuelle evner celebrities og milliardære begunstiges med klonede nymphpiger englende falder på jorden og deler deres feminine ynde med hunkøn, de svage blir til forsøgsdyr nextgen orgasme-bot innoveres, hunkøn fængsles i seksuel ekstatisk rus christ besøger jorden, og forynger menneskeheden, der blir fri for tanke og indre billeder nephilim rejser ned på jord og forstørrer menneskehedens pikke, og vandrer iblandt deres underlegne, før de ferver nephililrye internettet fyldes med børneporno børn får dyrets mærke, og forvandles til halv-dæmoner, der løber uendeligt i nattens prestige guderne vil skabe menneskeden i deres eget billede og slås om hvilke overnaturlige egenskaber menneskeheden arver
celestielle lyskrigere ændrer jordens frekvens til 432Hertz, hjertets frekvens den rene menneskeheds hjerte forenes, det feminine køn bæsettes af dæmoner og fængsles i ondskabens rus ai integreres med hunkøn, hunkøn dyrker sex med kunstige leveformer pikhed integreres med ai, menneskeheden er nu kontrolleret af kunstig intelligens suværene vilje
ai synergier med musik og downloader +- ether-frekvenser og stjerners eferiske lyd ned på apps, drøm-gearet innoveres og blir synkroniseret med internettet
krig opstår mellem titaner og guder...
prelude a:
"hun er en sexbunny, ´laura´, en fræk frændinde, hun knalder som et stjerneskud"
"gudidne", stråleklart, altså fra et astrologisk perspektiv,
ildnet af ultra-egernets ipod og stjerneskud under dystopiske gader, danser tvilinge-flammerne i stjerneskær og purpur,
logikens endelighed, splittet itu, rimens snare, dræbt i koldt blod, farver, rene som sne og pur teknologi, vævet i gudinde-blomstens mørke ild-net
kan fissens ild væves til gud? kan gud væves til fissens ild?
"coldplay" i mørk magi "coldplay" i gadeskær "coldplay" på gadefrænd "coldplay" i flammer" "coldplay" i flammeskær" "coldplay" i nordisk skær" "coldplay" i sølv" "coldplay" i gallosch skær" "coldplay" i smart tid" "coldplay" i blodrus" "coldplay i morderisk rus"
"musik i teknifarver" "musik i teknirus"
"dræbe i blodrus" "dræbe under himlens tæppe" "dræbe i teknifarver" "dræbe i teknirus" "dræbe i koldblodighed"
hvornår brænder heksene, totaro? hvornår mærkes de med microchips linket til jernens smertecentre? hvornår får ´lucifer´ og ´satans´ søn smertekontrol over den forpestede mennesskehed? hvornår brister den forpestede menneskeheds falske stolthed og arrogance? hvornår hersker pur frygten?
world turned upside down pleasure turns to sound and sound turns to pleasure what´s this rhyme, this devil´s snare
a hymn for daemonia´s amusement:
singing in choir:
prostituion becomes spirit and spirit becomes prostituion...
ipod hero´s verse:
nay,
i will walk among precious stars and dance in satyr´s wires my eyes shall reflect sun and moon oceans shall bow to the rhytm of my feet, pierce throguh godess hearts,
mephisto:
"i see you fere, and shackles you carry, like a fethered black birds sway"
will thy shackles curse you, when world crumble, and ´atlantis´ rise anew and take it´s vengeance?
i threw a feast at gaucis avouré, i¨d sent her the invitation, she didn´t attend - Giacomo Casanova
franscesco fawk, monique, luvré and i, attendted an avantgarde le-val in the hidden streets of vienna, those dark, ridden with murder and bloodshed.
a feminine shadow haunted, what wouldve been an amusing evening. Giacomo Casanova
Napoli's maidens frown at her grace le ´lovred´ if they saw her through my eyes, a diety she´d become, most skilled painters from distant lands would fare, just to gaze at her ´le ensemble´ - Giacomo Casanova
"she´s afresh as a flower, but her heart is too acronistic to be flattered by coldblooded killers - Giacomo Casanova
"her favourite flavour is vina de mo´r, served with fervú cheese - Giacomo Casanova
"vanecci stallia is a beast on first impression, laura le sanctiá is a beast when she speaks, Giacomo Casanova
"and her violent afterglow, is like a symphonies peak fading to greybirds song only ´lords of duke´ knows when she is thirsty for blood" - Giacomo Casanova
"i´m bewitched by the idea that her heart belongs to someone else than napoli´s flowery gardens i will leave my fouyer, fare the next train across italy to chase her, she´s left me in riddle and despair - Giacomo Casanova
night aforth, in my bed with lid candes, i was haunted by a beatiful nightmare, le agroniá, menace... she took the appearance of a strange creature, le miragé, her eyes, like fire, ´le mordi´ penetrated my heart, it shattered, she perished like a dark cloud fading from my torn eyelids,
1 I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys.
2 As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.
3 As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
4 He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.
5 Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love.
6 His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me.
7 I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.
8 The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.
9 My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice.
10 My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
11 For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
12 The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;
13 The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
14 O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.
15 Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes.
16 My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies.
17 Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.
In the world in between, After the tide crashes, There lies the respite of the impact, A remembrance, Of all civilizations past, Of all the struggle past, Into one steady, ever so steady moment of, Suffering of glory, Suffering of memory, Suffering of comfort, Suffering of Destiny. The cloak of the owl’s gaze, The silence of the promise of Gods dancing In a circle of might and whispers, A whispering end of death and toil, Until the moment is long lost, And the opened eyes, Peer back into the chaos once again.
The sublime and beautiful, Is the violent thunder storm which throttles our hearts, So that our sorrow becomes joy, so the flowers of evil may grow, The beams of the heart slashing through the overcast, Touching down on our deepest desires; The connection that cuts through all untruths, and all lost voices, The mother embracing the rage of her son, The only connection to the real, What immortalizes our breath, What creates the message from the void, And keeps us out of the grasping grip of those poor souls falling into it. How do we hear the heroic horns trumpeting as the storm rages, And not hear the mellifluous warbler in the quiet aftermath?
The hero is but a blinding burst of flame, vanishing toward the sky, look neither to the sky nor to the ground then! To hear those cannons firing as the lust throttles the heart, The drumming of approaching death, The grand overture of Time, And the melody of stillness passes through us. The darkness of winter merely redirects the light, Reflecting it into oneself, into the unknown. We walk into the sun and hear the cymbals crashing! But into the gloom, we struggle to hear the pianist’s serenade. What joyous bellows, cheers, rhapsodic and rapturous songs, Left unconsummated by the silent hunter.
Being, the never ending, Bursting with light, consuming with darkness, Creeping with menace, furtive steps of promise, Mad with truth, of omniscient beauty, Of omniscient terror, of omniscient hunger!
The trumpets sounding, of the great climax, Of what is, and never will be again, Of What was, and always will be evermore, Echoing in time, in the broken heart, Being swept away with the merciless all-encompassing truth, And the only choice of accepting it, the perfectly clear choice, So perfectly everywhere!
