Knock, knock…

You hear the faint
Rapping on a door,
Don’t you?

Oh, it is there.

No one else
Can detect that
Maddening sound
But you, and even then,
It is only within your
Interior; obscured away
From all others.

That sound, that
Continuous collision
Of bone against wood…

For the first time
In your brief span
Upon this dying world,
You are presented with
What it is like to
Be truly, and utterly

There it is,
Fear and trembling.

Part of you
Vainly clings to the
Notion of facing that old
Cloaked reaper with a stoic dignity.

But who would you impress?

Certainly not it, for
Greater men have
Withered in its presence.

Your eyes dart around,
And the knocking keeps
Reminding you that there’s
No one else.

Just you…

So, you give in
To the inevitable loss
Of you, yourself,
Deciding that,
Since the void, eternity,
Is staring so intensely at you
With two vacant eyes,
It’d be best to give in to the inevitable chaos,
A most intense negation and madness.

What else could you have done?



Concerns of the blood are not concerns of mine.

It is proclaimed that I have more in common with the one who’s ethnic lineage is identical to my own. That we, due to some sort of mystical force in our genes, are bound together, and thus, are inseparable. After all, a race is just like an extended family.

But there’s a good chance I have little in common with my family, my so-called siblings.

And why is it that I am damned to be welded to these others? Who probably reject me? Who do not think like me, or look like me? Who have no regard for what I hold in high regard, and highly regard what I would find to be worth disregarding? Why should it be that my fate is bound up with theirs? Forget them, I say. Blood may be thicker than water, but that doesn’t mean it’s somehow more worthy of my devotion and admiration.

Furthermore, why do the concerns of the blood, which I wholly ignore, demand that I have a hatred for those who’s blood is “different” (but how different is it, truly…it is still the same color, the same texture, and still possesses the same foul smell of copper, iron, and the ills that plague humanity)? What if I share more with them, than I ever could with one of “my own” (not my words, but theirs)? What if we bond at a deeper level than I could ever manage to with the ones I am supposed to unwaveringly stand by? Oh, but that would be forbidden, because the intermingling would dilute and destroy.

As a result, I am kicked out of the family. Disowned. What for? I couldn’t say, and I doubt you could either. It’s so absurd, so strange. Met with so much rage, because I dared venture beyond the narrow vision of the family, its stunted horizon, where all goes to die and wither into dust.

Purity, purity. All this talk of purity. What of it? I see purity, alright. Pure hate, pure hostility, pure devastation, pure power, pure greed, pure anguish, pure death. Pure Hell. In other words, that which is purely…human. All too human. And it sickens me. Makes my stomach churn and twist, the sight of my own species. The way it masquerades as better, when in all actuality, it is often worse. So, so much worse. A fate worse than dead, I think, would be being human. How demented and deranged it is, in actions and otherwise, o’, how I am repulsed by it. Doesn’t matter who’s fulfilling the impulse and instincts of this thing called mankind.

My dear, why should I regard one sect of it with any higher amount of regard? Groups are never better than each other. Individuals, now that is where the true shining beacons can be found. But this, this does not allow for individuals, does it? No, it excludes the very idea. Shuns it, scorns it, loathes it. Wants to destroy individuality and difference. Only swallow all into some meaningless, arbitrary, homogenous vortex. I am not allowed to forge and found my own little cavalcade, my own little union. No, instead, I am forced into one, based on inane and idiotic standards that unimaginative dullards dreamed up, hallucinating that they were, in fact, real. That they were not mere figments of their minds.

You fetishists of the blood want no freedom, no. You want chains for both you and I. While you will gladly clamp them onto yourself, proclaiming yourself liberated, I shall shirk them off and cast them aside. Yet it is you that finds me to be enslaved. I do not understand why. Because I refuse the limitations you impose upon me? You do not seek freedom for “your own” (as if you can speak for them), or anyone else. I spit upon your blood fetish. I abide by no rules of the blood.

What of this petty struggle? What does it solve? What does it bring about that nothing else could? The answer is…nothing. Absolutely nothing. It serves futile, short-sighted, ultimately worthless and laughable interests that, in the end, affect nothing. Not even able to bring an ounce of satisfaction, for struggle founded upon this concept is far too shallow, far too stunted. It will not go far. You think yourself a rebel; you’re a dogmatic fool, a blind zealot, a sad excuse for a human.

It would appear to me that this supposed “natural law”, this “innate” enmity, is fostered by silver-tongued devils. Only a concoction by slimy manipulators taking advantage of the easily swayed, who are bound to be preyed upon by those who know how to exploit their simple whims and desires, their fears and excitements. Nothing more. They have intentions of a conniving, sinister, Machiavellian nature, utilizing whatever they can to become little more than a populist wielding an iron fist.

Grabs for control, that is all this really is.

I see through the tricks.

I am not blind.

Love? You seek to destroy love, not foster it. What of those from these “opposing camps”, as you like to name them, who become friends, good friends? Or perhaps more than friends, falling into the depths of intimacy? Fostering families that shatter your delicate, fragile worldview? You hate love, loathe it. “Love” is nowhere to be found in your insidious doctrine of idiocy and deceit. Do not preach to me of love, snarling jackass. You would kill those who do not love their “real” family. Slaughter them en masse. You have before, you will again. Scum, you are. Lying scum.

These wars and battles against others…and all for what? Because you were ordained by virtue of mere pigmentation to do so? What additives did thee indulge in to come to such inane and worrying conclusions? Yet I am the so-called “deranged” one. A betrayer, a charlatan. Predictable. Those who are the worst of the worst will denigrate those who are not as the thing that they happen to be themselves, as a distraction method.

Play in this game of blood, I shall not. Others can, but I will forever find them idiotic for doing so.


Root out their tongue
So swiftly from
Their stench-filled
Mouth, that it
Causes them to choke
On their own
Wicked blood,
Forcing them to taste the
Decadence in what
Gives them life,
Solidifying the rottenness
Preached from their blackened hearts.

Silence, silence
Them all,
Under no circumstances
Will words leave their
Accursed lips,
Lest they
Beckon you forth
Via a foul seduction.

Nay, do not be tempted; thou
Must heed my words.

Life wilts away,
Evaporating in their presence.

Here be the world’s greatest pestilence.


Demons walk among us,
I assure you they’re real.

Flesh they gnaw upon,
By their hands, skin is peeled.

A sadistic gleam takes over their eyes.

Within their presence, all life shall die.

Everyday they remind me how much I can’t
Ever give mankind a second fucking chance.

Stand up, those who would bare
Their teeth in revolt.

Resist those gaping maws
That shovel down
More products from the death cult.

Descartes has driven us
To murder and rape.

Hunt the hunters,
Or there’ll be no escape.

Forever rotten, forever damned,
Walking graves we’ve become,
Us monsters called Man.


Serenity, o, is it ever omnipresent this way out.

What could one
Desire more than
This, glorious splendor?

Vast, ever stretching, without end,
A man could travel for hours, and
Still, would the grand much of it
Be unexplored. Beacons everywhere
Call out, promising new adventures,
Surely not to be ignored.

Tranquility, one wants? Here, tranquility, one hast.

Step forth, savoring soul.

Ocular organs peering into lush corridors, head turning
About to survey all that makes itself known to you.

So soft, is the ground underneath.

Palpable under your bare heel and toes, calloused
Due to all of the rewilding they
Have had to endure.

Moist, damp, fresh.

Peculiar scents meet your nostrils,
Undoubtedly rising up from the soil,
Concocting pleasant vapors that
Filled your lungs.

Molding, it seemed, to your feet,
Not unlike a shoe, or a glove, but
It felt…better. Realer. Purer.

A shiver runs up your spine as
The cooler moisture nestles
Betwixt thy toes, coating
All around. It would seem,
If one could imagine it,
That the Earth itself
Were applying gentle kisses
Upon your trotters. A gentle greeting
Amidst a new morning, as if to say,
“Welcome back, love”.

Verdurous growth mischievously
Tickles the skin underneath,
Dainty growths of floral life
Encompassing the appendage. One could
Be inclined to think it were…dragging
You deeper into its fold. And yes,
It, too, is pleasantly full of
Wetness. Tempting, isn’t it? To
Simply…join it, on the forest bed,
Relax into its hold. An enticing prospect, to be sure.

Yes, it had rained the previous night. You
Heard the drops pitter-patter
Against the walls and roof
Of your home. Lulling you into
Slumber with their comforting,
Yet disjointed, rhythm.

Light breezes blow by,
Caressing your skin
So delicately and tenderly,
Much akin to the arms
Of a doting mother
Pulling her child lovingly
Into her warm embrace on
A frigid night,
Blowing faint whispers
Laced with the promises
You’ve come to expect
Out of this sanctuary. Promises kept, a
Word that never is given
Deceptively. Lies, She tells not. For that is
Not of her way.

Drink in the sights,
Sounds, touches, scents, tastes,
As well as all other profound, delectable delights.

Warmth surges through gatherings of leaves,
Bathing you in a glow of
Golden glory, the eye of Life gazing
Upon thee, offering a contrast to the
Chill of the playful wind. Not harsh,
Not biting, at is sometimes wont to
Do. Nay, merely teasing,
Occasionally raising goosebumps as the
Body is tricked into believing it is colder than is true.

Speaking of both the canopy and undergrowth of
Emerald coloration sprouting forth
From the outstretched arms,
Both large and small soaking
In the radiant beams emanating
Eternally from high on, you are
Surrounded. Engulfed in immense beauty. All rooted deep
Within the ground, tendrils
Buried into the dirt, drinking
Happily. Up and out, is its way. A myriad of shapes
Greets your curious gaze,
Pupils tracing along every curve. No
Artists of the species homo sapiens
Could ever hope to
Replicate something like them. It’d be
An impossible undertaking. Those who
Are arrogant enough to proclaim
Themselves worthy, are foolish. Laugh at them,
Laugh in their faces.

Oh, those sounds. You can hear them,
Can’t you? Clear as day. They cannot
Be missed, not for a moment.

Seems that thou are not alone here.

Older, wiser, tougher, stranger
Emanations from Being, shaped
Through its essence, descended
Down from the immaterial (as all that lives is),
Nestling and settling into
Its new home, through which it
Reaches out, expressing the
Nature of that acausal mysteriousness,
Keeping it safe, sheltering it, invigorating it, that which it is animated by,
A mysteriousness they are intimately connected with,
And you still are trying every day
To understand more and more.

Songs and sentences passing from
Magical throats,
And unknowable
Filling thy ears.

Hear the pitter-patter
Of killer and victim on
The loose. An eternal
Game of chase and be chased.

Fur and feathers of all
Shapes, sizes, and colors
Loom into sight. Somewhat
Similar to witnessing
Objects scurrying along
A canvas.

So unlike you, they are,
And yet, you feel connected
To them, in a way
Words cannot accurately describe.

A kind of knowing
Of a most inherent variety,
Not cultivated, not strived for,
Simply there from the start. All that was
Needed was to rediscover it.

Close by, the peering eye
Of her, gazing from inside,
Into the outside, seeing all
Reflected in her vision. Her creations
Lapping up what they need,
Drinking her in, always carrying
A part of her, wherever they go (although,
They are already of her, and joined
With her in harmony), always bowing their
Heads in reverence when they approach.

Bouncing off of the surface of
The clear orb of our
Great Mother, able to gaze back
Into her, as she is us,
Above is seen below. Clear,
Blue acres suspended, always
Present, never gone. Undisturbed,
Untouched, unmolested, it is allowed its
Own recourse, left to its own devices.

Primordial, perennial,
Everlasting, eternal.

Heaven sent you here,
Guided you back home.

Of course, you came to find out…this was Heaven.

What could be a more perfect setting?

This place, it looks
And even feels the
Same is it did yesterday.

Alas, it also doesn’t.

Little changes, subtle rearrangements. Small to the
Undiscerning eye, but to those who can
Truly make use of their vision, they’re

This is not your first encounter
With this realm.

Nay, I think it not; rather,
This be all that you now know. Yes,
Intimately you know thy region of dwelling,
Thoroughly intertwined with it, body and essence,
Like the hands of two young lovers.

Daily, every cycle of
Sun and moon
Grazing along the protective cover
Which allows us
To peer into the depths,
And become lost
In the stars, you
Find yourself
Coming into contact with it,
More and more immersed in its mysteries,
Delving deep, always,
Into the arms of the One.

This, this is your home now.

O, what of that
Lesser home, you once
Belonged to, so long ago?

Perish the thought.

Tis nothing else but
Mere distant memories,
Recollections from a time
Now bygone, in your eyes.

Poorly reflecting on you, as you are now.

Despicable ways you have cast
To the wayside,
Shedding the superficialities of
A world wrong and wretched.

Chains and shackles long since
Ripped from your wrists,
Left in the dust of your wake.

Soul no longer clouded,
Overwhelmed with fog,
Trapped in a daze,
Confused and wandering, ever searching,
Lost in an abyss.

Do you miss it?

Could you miss it?

Nay, you think it impossible.

After all, only a fool could.

Fools pine over the most detrimental of things.

Something stirs on the periphery of
The otherwise serene, near silent setting

Nay, not a sound of here.

She didn’t give way to whatever this might be.

Again, there it is again. Sharp, grating,
Distracting, unlike anything you’ve
Heard in recent times,
Ears unaccustomed to this racket.

The sound, the sound.

Your footsteps plod in the direction
Of the offending crashing and banging, a
Jackhammering pace
Igniting within
Thy chest.

Hypotheses and predictions born
From an immense worry,
Ideas of the worst hurtling
Right into the forefront
Of your mind.

It cannot be.

O Gods, do not let it be so…

Louder, and louder…

Clearer, and clearer…

Backing up, moving forth,
Grinding of gears,
Flapping of lips and tongues and throats,
Whirring of engines,
Valves opening and closing,
Noxious breath bellowing from the belching lungs of the titans,
Rushing veins pumping scalding hot, toxic blood,
The feast of rape and murder,
O, can you hear the screams? Aye, if only thy
Ears were open, able to hear the screams…

Soil ruined for generations.

A floor trampled and torn asunder.

Flora and fauna crushed under metal teeth, digging greedily into Her breast.

Dear God…

The horror…

O, the horror…

Something ignites deep within, a kind of
Bursting forth, as if a bulkhead
Within that wasteful, demonic
Monument to modernity, now
Plunged into the barren, aquatic desert,
Hath broken from the immense pressure.

“Good morning, everyone. Today’s top story…a rather tragic one. Harrowing, shocking; the product of a deranged terrorist, perhaps? Goodness, what is our world coming to. A crew, part of a local logging company, who wish to remain nameless, was found viciously mutilated outside of town, in a historic piece of land that, after being declared to be under preservation and untouched for virtually decades, had been bought out. From what we could gather, it was supposed to be an extension of the town. A new plaza, a new strip mall, a highway, something along those lines. They kept everything tight-lipped, fearing an uproar, if the news were to get out…although, the town has expressed positive sentiments towards growing in size. Guess they wouldn’t want to upset the greens, eh? The company has been working with the local authorities, and vows to find whoever perpetrated this terrible, loathsome act…to justice. And they shall be punished to the fullest extent of the law. If you know anything, see anything, please…contact this number. We have a dangerous killer on our hands.”