(Slow build up)
Bringing in the decay of my means,
the metal by which I breath.
Bringing down the seat of machine,
by which was built on human scream.
The chaos of life,
building itself.
Baring down upon the flesh that made it.
The chaos of strife,
come by steel grip and disease.
Searing in the temptations crevice.
(Hard roll on, screaming guitar for chorus)
We are gone but leave behind,
the machines that we built.
They wreck the flesh then entwine,
that which connects
the blade to the hilt.
Never see what we create.
Never see again.
Never see what is now there.
The eyes of intelligence create.
(back to slow heavy build up)
Bringing in the decay of our time,
the copper by which it breathes.
Bringing down the power of man,
by which was built on human suffering.
The chaos of life,
building itself.
Baring down upon the flesh that made it.
The chaos of strife,
come by steel grip and disease.
Searing in the temptations crevice.
(Hard roll on, screaming guitar for chorus)
We are gone but leave behind,
the machines that we built.
They wreck the flesh then entwine,
that which connects
the blade to the hilt.
Never see what we create.
Never see again.
Never see what is now there.
The eyes of intelligence create.
(repeat)
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Aghast against the skin
Aghast,
Aghast,
against the skin I gasp.
The water fills,
I cannot thrill my lover from her task.
Such bile infestation I feel in the star,
a keen imagination,
beneath,
below too far.
Aghast,
Aghast,
against the skin I grasp.
The blood boils,
the station recoils from their hated past.
Pile on the bodies,
in this isolated place.
A million miles from the earthly soil,
I have no human face.
Aghast,
Aghast,
against the skin I clasp.
the stinging armor,
covers the farmer who collects our wrap.
Sending out the hunters,
out to this lonely place,
a million miles from the earthly soil,
they won't recognize this face.
Aghast,
against the skin I gasp.
The water fills,
I cannot thrill my lover from her task.
Such bile infestation I feel in the star,
a keen imagination,
beneath,
below too far.
Aghast,
Aghast,
against the skin I grasp.
The blood boils,
the station recoils from their hated past.
Pile on the bodies,
in this isolated place.
A million miles from the earthly soil,
I have no human face.
Aghast,
Aghast,
against the skin I clasp.
the stinging armor,
covers the farmer who collects our wrap.
Sending out the hunters,
out to this lonely place,
a million miles from the earthly soil,
they won't recognize this face.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
wretched head
Spint off,
larooche his spine did spit.
An able frame,
twist within the axis parab'le.
Fever not accompanying the congested
sinul cavity cavernous coaxed.
Throat pulled from the ashen coals
and simmering under the glaze of iced glue-on.S.
Wretched head you succumb to the ill,
wretched thing, letting in this hell.
If you weren't the controllers domicile
I'd rip thee from a place atop
a pillar from hence your base.
Tissue....bone...tissue.
cough. tissue....pass the fucking tissue and my tea.
This cold is killing me.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
East of Nod
+Wz
Heavy weight on the stomach, crude and distorted.
Light headed and imbalance to the frame.
Eyes dry and head aches pressing behind my ocular orbs.
How much sprinkle went into the form of my green to brown forest?
How much tint to the taint is there on this T to the H to the C?
Ugh is the only sound I want to make.
Ugh
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Salvia
Deigned on the designer Lysergic dots, forming liquid dreams from a paper ream.
Fed on the fungal lattice work of a psychedelic knee-jerk into my personal
symposium on the ways things were, are and always shall be.
Licked the mescaline from the rim of the powder,
not too far gone from the extasy power and on I stand,
alone and strong on this pedestal of confident experiment.
Each attachment to the eye and brain I worked for the intent of
controlled insane,
and yet HOW,
yet HOW does a man engorged in his habit,
not expect it to one day find him and bite back?
Limp and dead away I found myself in a truth to say,
the way I might envision hell if hell was earth and earth was hell today.
Enclosed in the skin I hadn't awakened to until the fume had reached
my lung,
and then and then it wasn't much when I closed my eyes and lost the touch
of a reality I had once known,
or thought I had.
There before me was the avatar of sad,
of despair and fear,
of neurosis and lingering doubt
about the conformity of substance,
physical reality and thought.
Embraced I was in the awkward state of a wrapping
consciousness I could not debate.
Here I thought I would be lost for good,
until the voice came as I knew it would.
I came back quite slowly,
deformed from my face,
entering a new world
and awaking to a new race.
So here my friends the tale comes to an end,
as quick as it finished from whence it began.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Variables, Blue and Luminous
Galaxy: Messier 64 (Evil/ Black Eye)
ZOA II Research Stellar Observatory
{(In your own voice)unrealistic and failing...}Masterwork. Period peace. "Give me something a little more...emotive. I'm looking for a cultural tone, something sad."
Adagio in G minor begins. The strings....begin to weep.
Chief Cosmitecht Isaac Yuri Ghozzali closed his eyes as a violin began to slip between a subtle building of tempo and he was then lost within the baroque piece now curling up inside his chest. It lay there like the fist of Dogon and when the tears began to shed from the nano-audio ticks Yuri saw his daughter once more. He saw her last at age four, right before the cast. Before the spin-off.
It's been thirty thousand round now and Yuri was only 88 years into this vessel. His body was just as strong as ever, hadn't aged much beyond 25 but even if the human body still only retained such a short cellular life span it wouldn't have mattered. Vesselation had changed all of that.
Albinoni passed and Yuri found a tear had fallen. It had been a long time.
He went to the window and stared out the fluidic aerogel. Beyond the distance between him and revelation there was the outline of the star he called, Ouroboros. Its blue stentorian body recalling the glamor of any other celestial body near it. This was a star, massive and dominating. Soon it would go hypernova.....but Yuri.....Yuri had a different plan in mind.
Surrounding the titan was an equally impressive sight artificially designed. Within this machine Yuri would trap the inevitable hypernova and harness the energy before tossing it into the supermassive black hole at the center of his galaxy causing a jet to be triggered spraying the galaxy with the LBV radiation, transformed by Yuris machine. This radiation could trigger a whole new evolution of life throughout the galaxy. Yuri was tired and wanted to enact change himself. There was no waiting around for god....simply for the star to reach critical mass.
Yuri only had to continue watching....watching Ouroboros. No matter how many bodies, no matter how much vesselation was required, eventually....he would be participant and creator of the new change. No matter the outcome, something new was needed.
It could be another thousand years....but he had all the time and all the bodies in the world....or at least in the station.
He waited and thought of his family.
The star was so beautiful.
Adagio in G minor begins. The strings....begin to weep.
Chief Cosmitecht Isaac Yuri Ghozzali closed his eyes as a violin began to slip between a subtle building of tempo and he was then lost within the baroque piece now curling up inside his chest. It lay there like the fist of Dogon and when the tears began to shed from the nano-audio ticks Yuri saw his daughter once more. He saw her last at age four, right before the cast. Before the spin-off.
It's been thirty thousand round now and Yuri was only 88 years into this vessel. His body was just as strong as ever, hadn't aged much beyond 25 but even if the human body still only retained such a short cellular life span it wouldn't have mattered. Vesselation had changed all of that.
Albinoni passed and Yuri found a tear had fallen. It had been a long time.
He went to the window and stared out the fluidic aerogel. Beyond the distance between him and revelation there was the outline of the star he called, Ouroboros. Its blue stentorian body recalling the glamor of any other celestial body near it. This was a star, massive and dominating. Soon it would go hypernova.....but Yuri.....Yuri had a different plan in mind.
Surrounding the titan was an equally impressive sight artificially designed. Within this machine Yuri would trap the inevitable hypernova and harness the energy before tossing it into the supermassive black hole at the center of his galaxy causing a jet to be triggered spraying the galaxy with the LBV radiation, transformed by Yuris machine. This radiation could trigger a whole new evolution of life throughout the galaxy. Yuri was tired and wanted to enact change himself. There was no waiting around for god....simply for the star to reach critical mass.
Yuri only had to continue watching....watching Ouroboros. No matter how many bodies, no matter how much vesselation was required, eventually....he would be participant and creator of the new change. No matter the outcome, something new was needed.
It could be another thousand years....but he had all the time and all the bodies in the world....or at least in the station.
He waited and thought of his family.
The star was so beautiful.
Imaginational Geographic
Neanderthal man. Look at him. The one over there sitting on the shredded tree stump. Yes, thats right, the one chipping away at a rock. He is making a spear head. A very rudimentary and basic one, but a weapon nonetheless. Let's call him U'huric. If we look into his eyes we see a deep transition going on. There is a struggle there in the elements behind his dark pupils. The mind is in a very vulnerable phase, comparable to a child at the age of 7. His kind is at a crucial moment at their stage, readying for the moment to pass when they either succumb to the understanding of a language or lose it forever and eventually perish.
U'huric looks down at his tribe further down the hill. We notice there is a line his brow, seemingly expressing a sort of frustration. Of course this passes quickly as his focus is more attuned to the work of survival. Social climate barely works here beyond a foundation of collusion shaped by the need to survive. Even though his gaze may have been quick there was reason enough to assume that he was feeling certain anger towards one of the more dominant males in the tribe who was now cutting into a large woolly mammoth that had been dragged back after the hunt. This dominant male we will refer to as Dahuk.
Dahuk had apparently been the one who had actually trapped and killed the mammoth or at least its what his behavior displayed. A few of the other males seemed a bit on edge with Dahuk though so we can only presume to know what actually happened.
Back further up the hill amidst the trees we see U'huric still chipping away at his spearhead. His process is repetitive and well practiced but he begins to slow and eventually comes to a complete stop looking up in confusion as he begins to hear something.
U'huric stands then and from here it seems as if he is looking for the direction the sound is coming from. It begins to get louder and it seems that it is music, though U'huric does not understand that. He seems to be now falling into a slight stupor as though the engaging harmonics that are resonating louder with each passing moment have hypnotized him.
Shaking his head U'huric finds that he is called upon to find the source of the sound he has never heard before. It gets a bit steeper as he climbs upward but that doesn't phase U'huric. A strange light flashes and he looks up seeing a cave entrance and some formless form moving too quickly inside to be recognized.
The music gets louder, this beautiful pulse of sound that seems to lick his ears. Never has his heart felt the pump of passion like this. It also pumped with some anxiety and dread.
Reaching the cave entrance he turned the corner and saw a well lit cavern just inside the cave and some strange refraction of light playing off of stalagmites and stalactites that were strewn throughout in a damp and smooth crystalline ocean. The refractions of light bouncing off of the sweating cave seemed to be the source of the music and it began to grow in complexity. It became louder and more beautiful and U'huric fell to his knees staring in at this alpha symphony that was conducting itself.
The music became louder still and the refractions of light were pulsing at incredible frequencies becoming almost blinding in their illumination. Growing still the beat of U'hurics heart was close to pumping right out of his thick and heavy chest.
We find U'huric passes out at this moment.
Upon waking U'huric is startled to see Dahuk staring down at him surrounded by his tribe. U'huric takes a moment and gets up. Apparently the music had caught the attention of his tribe but only U'huric had experienced the birth of the language.
After standing up he seems to look around the cave in confusion trying to fathom why he felt so different. The rest of his tribe stared at him but eventually curiosity diminished and they began to head back down to their camp.
U'huric stays behind and so does Dahuk. Barely even paying mind to his rival U'huric walks over to the outcropping of naturally formed damp musical pillars.
After studying them for some time U'huric sits next to one and begins to touch it. He feels its texture and licks it. Its wet. It doesn't taste very good.
Dahuk seems to be curious about what is going on with his equal but it looks as though that is waning. Dahuk slowly begins to head towards the mouth of the cave.
Before he reaches it something miraculous happens. A single drop of water, large enough to cause vibration, drops right down onto the stalagmite that U'huric is studying. The collision creates a mimic of one of the tones U'huric had heard earlier during the natural concert.
It seems to have caused Dahuk to stop and look back and U'huric now looked closer.
Picking up a rock U'huric brought it up close to his face and looked into it for a moment then extended his arm and struck the craggy growth creating another mimic of the sound. It excited U'huric and brought Dahuk back in again.
This time U'huric stood. He hit a different stalagmite and then a different one and another and another each creating a different tone.
After a few moments of this Dahuk seemed ecstatic and joined in. Now there were two and for the first time a band was created. This event went on for some time before the tribe heard the two going at it.
After returning to see what was happening the rest of the tribe began to join in as well and before anyone knew what had happened a full blown concert was raging for the first time anywhere in the entire world.
Music had been found. The language had been discovered.
U'huric looks down at his tribe further down the hill. We notice there is a line his brow, seemingly expressing a sort of frustration. Of course this passes quickly as his focus is more attuned to the work of survival. Social climate barely works here beyond a foundation of collusion shaped by the need to survive. Even though his gaze may have been quick there was reason enough to assume that he was feeling certain anger towards one of the more dominant males in the tribe who was now cutting into a large woolly mammoth that had been dragged back after the hunt. This dominant male we will refer to as Dahuk.
Dahuk had apparently been the one who had actually trapped and killed the mammoth or at least its what his behavior displayed. A few of the other males seemed a bit on edge with Dahuk though so we can only presume to know what actually happened.
Back further up the hill amidst the trees we see U'huric still chipping away at his spearhead. His process is repetitive and well practiced but he begins to slow and eventually comes to a complete stop looking up in confusion as he begins to hear something.
U'huric stands then and from here it seems as if he is looking for the direction the sound is coming from. It begins to get louder and it seems that it is music, though U'huric does not understand that. He seems to be now falling into a slight stupor as though the engaging harmonics that are resonating louder with each passing moment have hypnotized him.
Shaking his head U'huric finds that he is called upon to find the source of the sound he has never heard before. It gets a bit steeper as he climbs upward but that doesn't phase U'huric. A strange light flashes and he looks up seeing a cave entrance and some formless form moving too quickly inside to be recognized.
The music gets louder, this beautiful pulse of sound that seems to lick his ears. Never has his heart felt the pump of passion like this. It also pumped with some anxiety and dread.
Reaching the cave entrance he turned the corner and saw a well lit cavern just inside the cave and some strange refraction of light playing off of stalagmites and stalactites that were strewn throughout in a damp and smooth crystalline ocean. The refractions of light bouncing off of the sweating cave seemed to be the source of the music and it began to grow in complexity. It became louder and more beautiful and U'huric fell to his knees staring in at this alpha symphony that was conducting itself.
The music became louder still and the refractions of light were pulsing at incredible frequencies becoming almost blinding in their illumination. Growing still the beat of U'hurics heart was close to pumping right out of his thick and heavy chest.
We find U'huric passes out at this moment.
Upon waking U'huric is startled to see Dahuk staring down at him surrounded by his tribe. U'huric takes a moment and gets up. Apparently the music had caught the attention of his tribe but only U'huric had experienced the birth of the language.
After standing up he seems to look around the cave in confusion trying to fathom why he felt so different. The rest of his tribe stared at him but eventually curiosity diminished and they began to head back down to their camp.
U'huric stays behind and so does Dahuk. Barely even paying mind to his rival U'huric walks over to the outcropping of naturally formed damp musical pillars.
After studying them for some time U'huric sits next to one and begins to touch it. He feels its texture and licks it. Its wet. It doesn't taste very good.
Dahuk seems to be curious about what is going on with his equal but it looks as though that is waning. Dahuk slowly begins to head towards the mouth of the cave.
Before he reaches it something miraculous happens. A single drop of water, large enough to cause vibration, drops right down onto the stalagmite that U'huric is studying. The collision creates a mimic of one of the tones U'huric had heard earlier during the natural concert.
It seems to have caused Dahuk to stop and look back and U'huric now looked closer.
Picking up a rock U'huric brought it up close to his face and looked into it for a moment then extended his arm and struck the craggy growth creating another mimic of the sound. It excited U'huric and brought Dahuk back in again.
This time U'huric stood. He hit a different stalagmite and then a different one and another and another each creating a different tone.
After a few moments of this Dahuk seemed ecstatic and joined in. Now there were two and for the first time a band was created. This event went on for some time before the tribe heard the two going at it.
After returning to see what was happening the rest of the tribe began to join in as well and before anyone knew what had happened a full blown concert was raging for the first time anywhere in the entire world.
Music had been found. The language had been discovered.
No Master, No Name
A falling promise to the beat of my own heart.
"No, not a soul can influence you.
Not a single ideal of spiritual smarts."
It is a path not worn,
not walked by the heel of our people.
That is fine,
I praise within no steeple.
This archaism I see sweeping over thee,
servitude to the history of we.
Even the master whose breath is so sweet,
the master whose smile might shine obsidian,
the master and lord and me we meet.
They ask of me to kneel
with the promise of eternal glory and peace.
They raise their arms in embrace,
in a comforting gaze towards I.
Awaiting....awaiting my choice between two paths.
Do I walk into the halls of the damned,
or dance within the warmth of the saved?
Looking up towards the stars I see a signature comet,
here in this world I find an answer,
one that most will reject because it is not familiar.
It might not make sense.
Because it sounds contradictive,
they find they become incensed
that someone is outspoken and reviled towards their triune
and threats of damnation.
"Oh why wont this soul come to heaven with us?"
"Oh why wont he worship with us?"
"Oh why wont he call the same names with us?"
"Why does he fight heaven so?"
With the shake of their head I laugh and I turn from their pool.
How sorrowful that so many must bond themselves to histories rule.
To religions so cruel,
to words that mean nothing,
and we the tool.
Despite the promises of eternal beauty showering over me,
I still refuse this shape and form of what people expect I should be.
I war with your concepts and ideas,
I war with your faith and your gods,
I war with your logic and intuition,
because I am at peace with my place.
I find no solace in heaven.
I find no comfort in the Lord.
Mohammud is no prophet,
David is no king.
You people guided by history,
never creating for the present to the potential.
Wander these lands I do
with the overmind to be,
an omniests work,
is never set free.
My labels are mine,
my words are my own.
No God speaks for me,
Into this fabric no devil is sown.
Envy me for I am truly set apart,
from the sheep in the hand,
and the shepard to start.
I am divided from conformist,
and ideas of the clique.
There is nothing I am not,
for all that is not,
is still in my name.
I am TYE.
I AM the only.
The whole.
Without God.
As God.
+Y3
Redefning God since 1979.
"No, not a soul can influence you.
Not a single ideal of spiritual smarts."
It is a path not worn,
not walked by the heel of our people.
That is fine,
I praise within no steeple.
This archaism I see sweeping over thee,
servitude to the history of we.
Even the master whose breath is so sweet,
the master whose smile might shine obsidian,
the master and lord and me we meet.
They ask of me to kneel
with the promise of eternal glory and peace.
They raise their arms in embrace,
in a comforting gaze towards I.
Awaiting....awaiting my choice between two paths.
Do I walk into the halls of the damned,
or dance within the warmth of the saved?
Looking up towards the stars I see a signature comet,
here in this world I find an answer,
one that most will reject because it is not familiar.
It might not make sense.
Because it sounds contradictive,
they find they become incensed
that someone is outspoken and reviled towards their triune
and threats of damnation.
"Oh why wont this soul come to heaven with us?"
"Oh why wont he worship with us?"
"Oh why wont he call the same names with us?"
"Why does he fight heaven so?"
With the shake of their head I laugh and I turn from their pool.
How sorrowful that so many must bond themselves to histories rule.
To religions so cruel,
to words that mean nothing,
and we the tool.
Despite the promises of eternal beauty showering over me,
I still refuse this shape and form of what people expect I should be.
I war with your concepts and ideas,
I war with your faith and your gods,
I war with your logic and intuition,
because I am at peace with my place.
I find no solace in heaven.
I find no comfort in the Lord.
Mohammud is no prophet,
David is no king.
You people guided by history,
never creating for the present to the potential.
Wander these lands I do
with the overmind to be,
an omniests work,
is never set free.
My labels are mine,
my words are my own.
No God speaks for me,
Into this fabric no devil is sown.
Envy me for I am truly set apart,
from the sheep in the hand,
and the shepard to start.
I am divided from conformist,
and ideas of the clique.
There is nothing I am not,
for all that is not,
is still in my name.
I am TYE.
I AM the only.
The whole.
Without God.
As God.
+Y3
Redefning God since 1979.
Resolve Will
Oh so many blossoms between my fingers,
so many petals falling to the ground.
So many voices soaked into the perianth,
such heartache and such wonder.
Streets I have seen crumble under a harsh moon-lit night.
Never had I witnessed my own skin
focus on the bleeding of the world.
Low....
Low beheld the sight of seven docks.
The fancy triage, the plaintiff and victim.
Subpoenaed in the face and in the ways of the face of failed flays, flailing and sailing and mailing their souls to poles in dole of three thousand moles.
Another storm is here.
It rolls along the roof and into my mind never again to disappear.
Umbilical eyes capturing a struck star by a press of gravity clear.
How dream do we when we nurture the fee of a thousand years too late reflecting one hundred too early?
so many petals falling to the ground.
So many voices soaked into the perianth,
such heartache and such wonder.
Streets I have seen crumble under a harsh moon-lit night.
Never had I witnessed my own skin
focus on the bleeding of the world.
Low....
Low beheld the sight of seven docks.
The fancy triage, the plaintiff and victim.
Subpoenaed in the face and in the ways of the face of failed flays, flailing and sailing and mailing their souls to poles in dole of three thousand moles.
Another storm is here.
It rolls along the roof and into my mind never again to disappear.
Umbilical eyes capturing a struck star by a press of gravity clear.
How dream do we when we nurture the fee of a thousand years too late reflecting one hundred too early?
Iada
Bubblewrapped sphere encasing the metaprojection of a tangible encephalon, rather like a nucleus and the shell of a cell. However the bubble-like enclosure is undefinable, each globe a quanta-linked womb to the auia of a conscious being.
This enclosure creates the collective as one and the mind that is the nucleus is connected to every planet of reality that the shell is made up of.
Thus each consciousness is connected to this singular mind. This mind is like an unconscious driver of intention and fate, leading systems of us into frenzies. The mind is going mad and many of its people are collapsing beneath its stentorious mass.
The days of doubt are upon us, as we whimper along curious and vulnerable to the mass powers that make up governments and administrations, allowing them to feed us. To give us.
The days of doubt lead to only one thing. The Epoch of certain integration, when all of the world will have fallen to its knees and finally succumb to the passive state of peace or burn from their very own madness. Cinders...embers...falling away into a chilled night, and then a heavy rain envelopes us, keeps us close to the ground.
Waiting for this lightning to strike the sky.
Some years might go by and one would see the gentle steps of a lost sister through the corridors of time, in an echo of some distant and complete hallway.
Now scorched, as is the earth and so many twisted and vile things. From its darkened soil though emerges new forging hands. Hands of reclamation, of redemption and unity. A new battle blossomed, the battle to survive away from every home to make home everywhere.
twelve billion years....some have grown tired. Most have grown silent. A spirited jet across the vastness. A spiral pop in the darkness.
four hundred and fifty billion years....stretching an ear might lend to a far off frequency. One that bounced for a final time in the edge of existence, and then sifted into a darker realm.
Six hundred trillion years....plum blossoms stretch toward a new rising sun and children were laughing on the beach.
This enclosure creates the collective as one and the mind that is the nucleus is connected to every planet of reality that the shell is made up of.
Thus each consciousness is connected to this singular mind. This mind is like an unconscious driver of intention and fate, leading systems of us into frenzies. The mind is going mad and many of its people are collapsing beneath its stentorious mass.
The days of doubt are upon us, as we whimper along curious and vulnerable to the mass powers that make up governments and administrations, allowing them to feed us. To give us.
The days of doubt lead to only one thing. The Epoch of certain integration, when all of the world will have fallen to its knees and finally succumb to the passive state of peace or burn from their very own madness. Cinders...embers...falling away into a chilled night, and then a heavy rain envelopes us, keeps us close to the ground.
Waiting for this lightning to strike the sky.
Some years might go by and one would see the gentle steps of a lost sister through the corridors of time, in an echo of some distant and complete hallway.
Now scorched, as is the earth and so many twisted and vile things. From its darkened soil though emerges new forging hands. Hands of reclamation, of redemption and unity. A new battle blossomed, the battle to survive away from every home to make home everywhere.
twelve billion years....some have grown tired. Most have grown silent. A spirited jet across the vastness. A spiral pop in the darkness.
four hundred and fifty billion years....stretching an ear might lend to a far off frequency. One that bounced for a final time in the edge of existence, and then sifted into a darker realm.
Six hundred trillion years....plum blossoms stretch toward a new rising sun and children were laughing on the beach.
Vast Hells {Prelude to the Canaan Arrangement}
Rasputins tongue speaks these words ~
"In their transformation, their perceptions are made real, as they are refashioned in chambers, the interiors of which I was never privileged -or damned- enough to view. Once combined or "steeped" in the darkness of Leviathan, these individuals emerge from the creation chambers with powers and abilities seemingly manifested from attributes possessed prior to the individuals arrival in Hell. It also appears that the more twisted, the more demented or guilt-ridden the "source material", the "better" or more insidious the finished Cenobite."
D'rubba - The Keeper (Cenobite Stentorian)
A woman named Eden living in France was given a box during world war I. This box was the Innocence Configuration. A secret design by the architect and toymaker Philip LeMarchand. It was desgined as an enticement to women and children but opened a portal between this world and that of the deepest recesses of hells abyss. Eden was murdered by the creatures that emerged from the box when she played with the puzzle. Her soul was taken to the belly of Leviathan where she is tormented.
Her 17 year old son Denovan found the puzzle box in Eden's room which was covered in blood but there were no remains. Denovan began to study the box and research its history eventually learning of its origins and creator.
Denovan sought after ways of retrieving his mothers soul for he did not believe it deserved to be there. Knowing after his research that he could not follow her the same way and hope to reach her alive. Before too long he found his answer.
"And measureless leagues of Hell may stand invisibly on every hand."
- William Ashbless, Leviathan, Canto 119 -
"You are familiar with the seven families of transformations of the cube?" Herms asked with a sly smile. "Certainly," I replied, refusing to be teased. "There are four Geometrics: the poly-dimensional Tetrahedral; the infinite Trapezohedral Bipyramidal; the Octohedral Bipyramidal, which is both; and the Dodecahedral, which is neither. Next, the three irrationals: the Schema of Interlocking Dissections, the Roses of Thom, and the cunning Inexplicable Shards."
Herms chuckled, turning the enigmatic device in his hands. "It is said that for such puzzles the number of solutions is always at least one more than is encompassed by the user's present knowledge." He began to twist and turn the box, pressing here and there upon its faces. "
-The Affair of the Reticulated Box, Ch. 2
So it was that Denovan began a search. He knew that there were 270 puzzles created by LeMarchand. He knew that different boxes presented the participator with new methods of Leviathans body.
If he could obtain them all he could control the whole of Leviathans configurations.
On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918 Denovan set out to gain control of all puzzle boxes that had been spread throughout the lands of Planet Earth.
33 years passed and Denovan had obtained by then an amazing 232 boxes. For many of them came a great price and Denovan knew that he might never be forgiven for the things he had done along the way.
At 53 Denovan had grown tired of searching. Living in Cairo at the time he had been searching for the Filigree and Shadow configuration and had come across a man who said he had the box. A disgusting man, he stank of rotten eggs and dead flesh.
It was said that the conversation between them went as thus:
I seek the Hofesh configuration, you told me you have it?
Yes. I have such pleasures to show you.
I do not seek pleasure sir. I seek retribution.
From here it was then said that Denovan returned to his home which had at least 12 boxes which he had obtained while living in Egypt. The rest of his boxes were in the United States in a home he purchased before the bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. They were hidden in a basement where he had closed in an unfinished part hiding the enigmatic puzzles.
When he did return home he was accosted by what has only been speculated as a vengeful family member of a victim Denovan had to remove in order to retrieve one of the other puzzle boxes.
This aggressor forced Denovan to open the Hofesh configuration but before he did Denovan was able to grab two other boxes as the portal into Leviathan opened.
Denovan, forced with no other alternative, began to seek out his mother. He moved down into the belly where she was but before he could free her he had to use one of the boxes to destroy a cenobite in his way. When he reached her he took a chance and gave her tormented soul the box. She solved it and was returned to earth but because it was Denovan who had brought the box in through Leviathan to her he had to take her place.
Because his soul was strong and powerful it had an even more powerful refractive evil within. A tyrant among tyrants.
Denovans innate evil made him the perfect guardian of Leviathans heart and thus D'rubba the Keeper was made through Denovan.
D'rubba - The Keeper (Cenobite Stentorian)
A woman named Eden living in France was given a box during world war I. This box was the Innocence Configuration. A secret design by the architect and toymaker Philip LeMarchand. It was desgined as an enticement to women and children but opened a portal between this world and that of the deepest recesses of hells abyss. Eden was murdered by the creatures that emerged from the box when she played with the puzzle. Her soul was taken to the belly of Leviathan where she is tormented.
Her 17 year old son Denovan found the puzzle box in Eden's room which was covered in blood but there were no remains. Denovan began to study the box and research its history eventually learning of its origins and creator.
Denovan sought after ways of retrieving his mothers soul for he did not believe it deserved to be there. Knowing after his research that he could not follow her the same way and hope to reach her alive. Before too long he found his answer.
"And measureless leagues of Hell may stand invisibly on every hand."
- William Ashbless, Leviathan, Canto 119 -
"You are familiar with the seven families of transformations of the cube?" Herms asked with a sly smile. "Certainly," I replied, refusing to be teased. "There are four Geometrics: the poly-dimensional Tetrahedral; the infinite Trapezohedral Bipyramidal; the Octohedral Bipyramidal, which is both; and the Dodecahedral, which is neither. Next, the three irrationals: the Schema of Interlocking Dissections, the Roses of Thom, and the cunning Inexplicable Shards."
Herms chuckled, turning the enigmatic device in his hands. "It is said that for such puzzles the number of solutions is always at least one more than is encompassed by the user's present knowledge." He began to twist and turn the box, pressing here and there upon its faces. "
-The Affair of the Reticulated Box, Ch. 2
So it was that Denovan began a search. He knew that there were 270 puzzles created by LeMarchand. He knew that different boxes presented the participator with new methods of Leviathans body.
If he could obtain them all he could control the whole of Leviathans configurations.
On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918 Denovan set out to gain control of all puzzle boxes that had been spread throughout the lands of Planet Earth.
33 years passed and Denovan had obtained by then an amazing 232 boxes. For many of them came a great price and Denovan knew that he might never be forgiven for the things he had done along the way.
At 53 Denovan had grown tired of searching. Living in Cairo at the time he had been searching for the Filigree and Shadow configuration and had come across a man who said he had the box. A disgusting man, he stank of rotten eggs and dead flesh.
It was said that the conversation between them went as thus:
I seek the Hofesh configuration, you told me you have it?
Yes. I have such pleasures to show you.
I do not seek pleasure sir. I seek retribution.
From here it was then said that Denovan returned to his home which had at least 12 boxes which he had obtained while living in Egypt. The rest of his boxes were in the United States in a home he purchased before the bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. They were hidden in a basement where he had closed in an unfinished part hiding the enigmatic puzzles.
When he did return home he was accosted by what has only been speculated as a vengeful family member of a victim Denovan had to remove in order to retrieve one of the other puzzle boxes.
This aggressor forced Denovan to open the Hofesh configuration but before he did Denovan was able to grab two other boxes as the portal into Leviathan opened.
Denovan, forced with no other alternative, began to seek out his mother. He moved down into the belly where she was but before he could free her he had to use one of the boxes to destroy a cenobite in his way. When he reached her he took a chance and gave her tormented soul the box. She solved it and was returned to earth but because it was Denovan who had brought the box in through Leviathan to her he had to take her place.
Because his soul was strong and powerful it had an even more powerful refractive evil within. A tyrant among tyrants.
Denovans innate evil made him the perfect guardian of Leviathans heart and thus D'rubba the Keeper was made through Denovan.
Emergence of an Early Collector
Two despotic idols, clamering for favor by blade.
Blood runs down the edge and behind the folded steel, infused with the crushed marrow that billions of corpses weep beneath.
"Asanto."
Gentle if not reserved, he had been claiming the excuse for a full day now.
When the ring of split carbonadium spread out under the feet of these struggling Omniarch not a twinge of wrapped pitch hit the air.
Thus twelve epoch had passed.
Handle began to roll underneath the moments, stuck below pins spinning on a quantum axis. His consciousness felt weighed down, heavily by the repeating reality. It did not make him ill, but he could feel nerve endings flick in waves and all that he could do was lay his head against the pillow and drool.
Forming words, moving appendages, these were both lasting in states similar to a quantum field. Everytime Handle began to focus on movement or communication, the more difficult it became to produce. Yet involuntarily he seemed to be able to do this thing. Unfocused, without his attention he could perform these functions.
Keep in mind though that this small realization seemed to be an eternity in itself. As he lay there in slight paralysis his mind functioned on a different level.
Every ten seconds or so his eyes would refocus on a single moviecase in a bookcase. This movie case produced a focul point but it also was the catalyst for the voices behind the rollers of reality. They weren't straight, or complete, or sensical, but they formed intention and felt familiar but unattached.
Handle could only think of one thing. His family. How sad, that must have been what he thought the voices were. His family.
His body quieted and he let his mind go free otherwise he might have developed an aneurysm, but in that time he began to feel a collapsing chaos. The thought that his mind might be lost and he was reaching out for someone to pull him back.
Time broke away and eternity stretched around him. There was nothing to fear here.
Nothing to fear. He was never in control to begin with.
Blood runs down the edge and behind the folded steel, infused with the crushed marrow that billions of corpses weep beneath.
"Asanto."
Gentle if not reserved, he had been claiming the excuse for a full day now.
When the ring of split carbonadium spread out under the feet of these struggling Omniarch not a twinge of wrapped pitch hit the air.
Thus twelve epoch had passed.
Handle began to roll underneath the moments, stuck below pins spinning on a quantum axis. His consciousness felt weighed down, heavily by the repeating reality. It did not make him ill, but he could feel nerve endings flick in waves and all that he could do was lay his head against the pillow and drool.
Forming words, moving appendages, these were both lasting in states similar to a quantum field. Everytime Handle began to focus on movement or communication, the more difficult it became to produce. Yet involuntarily he seemed to be able to do this thing. Unfocused, without his attention he could perform these functions.
Keep in mind though that this small realization seemed to be an eternity in itself. As he lay there in slight paralysis his mind functioned on a different level.
Every ten seconds or so his eyes would refocus on a single moviecase in a bookcase. This movie case produced a focul point but it also was the catalyst for the voices behind the rollers of reality. They weren't straight, or complete, or sensical, but they formed intention and felt familiar but unattached.
Handle could only think of one thing. His family. How sad, that must have been what he thought the voices were. His family.
His body quieted and he let his mind go free otherwise he might have developed an aneurysm, but in that time he began to feel a collapsing chaos. The thought that his mind might be lost and he was reaching out for someone to pull him back.
Time broke away and eternity stretched around him. There was nothing to fear here.
Nothing to fear. He was never in control to begin with.
A Tale of Forfeit and Surrender
I couldn't stand there for too long. She would have guessed my number.
Stepping back from the darkest crevasse would be the most difficult thing I could do, but after tearing myself away I knelt next to my backpack and pulled out the water. It was cold, so cold as it flowed down my throat.
Bowing my head for a moment I took the opportunity to breath deeply and consider what I had to do next. It struck me suddenly. The rest of the dynamite.
I pulled it out and stared at the 3 sticks of explosive in my hand. Last night was exhausting, but this would be the worst of it. I knew it.
The distance to the top of my prison tormented me. There was no way I would leave this place alive and I had to be sure she was gone. Nobody could ever find her.
Grabbing the shovel in my pack I counted about 10 full paces from the edge of the drop of the crevasse and started digging. I dug deep. As deep as I could go.
It was a smart thing to have packed extra cable, I smiled at my last little bit of ego that I was ever going to appreciate.
After digging a good 5 foot hole, I stuffed the dynamite down into it and pulled the cable out extending it and letting it drop over the edge. I buried the explosive and packed the snow as tight as I could. No energy should be focused or escaping. I wanted a very broad and simultanious range of power. Feeling sufficient with the job at that point I went back to my pack and pulled out the detonator. For the moment I sat it on top of the pack and went back to the shovel.
This was going to be the long part. I wanted to make sure this awkward overhang would split and fall. There could be no mistakes.
Plus, I had all the time in the world.
There was a decent overhang directly below the ridge that the thing...the woman...whatever it was, that is where it was nesting.
The overhang was a marginally sloping crust 5 yards to the right of me and 3 yards to the left. Using the shovel I started dotting my oasis with deep holes cut as lines about 2 feet across measuring out the whole structure I stood upon.
It gave me a good baring and I used it to create fractures that would fold under the explosion.
"Kiiiiiing?"
The undertones behind the female voice were devilish. I had never heard such frightening sounds in my life.
"Kiiiiiiiiiiiiing?" it wailed.
I was silent. I stopped digging and stood with my eyes closed, breathing very slowly.
"Kiiiing...."
"I am not king." I whispered under my breath.
My heart was beating thunderously. I wanted to clutch it. To pull it out of my chest and protect it....or smash it.
A low moan followed by a mumbling and then a voice. A perfect beautiful female voice spoke.
"Show me your face King and I will guess your number."
My legs gave out. They failed and crumbled beneath me. I fell onto my knees and hands and began vomiting. The tears pouring from my eyes were painful. All I could do was heave and weep. Everyone of them was gone. I was terrified and alone and about to die.
The faces of my friends and family swept through my mind. Horrible deaths. Each one of them had seen it....each one had been given a number. Each one perished...there had been some pattern, but it was beyond me and it didn't matter.
I had to make sure this thing was dead.
I had to make sure this thing was dead.
That thought echoed through my mind and I took a deep breath and stood up. There was a job to finish.
Night came early....too early. I had two flares and my headlamp but it was dying. I moved as quickly as I could going deep...going hard....no time for sexual innuendo. No time for distractions. No time for pity.
Finaly as the last bit of sunlight died out I grabbed the detonator and stumbled over to the edge where I had laid the cable out. As I knelt and placed the detonator down next to the cable. I stood up and turned the headlamp on as the last bit of sunlight gave out. It was going to get below zero tonight and I know that there is only minutes before I become a slow fumbling freezing idiot moving through the darkness trying not to disturb the waiting wicked that lays beneath me. Fuck this shit.
I remembered though that I needed a trigger attachment in my pack and ran hastily over to it, fearing that my time was running very very short.
I grabbed the device and turned back around to attach it to the detonator. As I mulled my way over there I noticed the cable over the edge go taut and before I could react it had whipped me in the face and I was knocked on my back. The headlamp shorted and I found myself enveloped by a cold void.
There was a bruise on my right temple where it had made contact and I rolled over pulling the flares out of my pocket. Lighting one I raised it into the air to see what had happened.
Squinting in the first red flare up I adjusted my eyes and realized in horror what had happened. Whatever it was that was trapped on the outcrop below me had enough of the cable slack to grab onto. It had doused me in darkness and tossed the detonator over the edge.
Fuck.
FUCK!
I couldn't stand it. It hurt to be in this situation. I hated it! I HATED IT!!
Inhaling deeply I walked towards the inky deep cast in a maroon aura. There was such a horrid creepy feeling inching up my stomach as I neered the cliff. Quietly...though I'm sure it didn't make a single bit of difference; I craned my neck very slowly over the edge. I could feel the lips quivering in the freezing temperatures and I tried to silence them.
I peeked out over the edge holding my breath in, barely showing my face over.
There it was. The detonator. On the damnable nest with that thing. I could only see a bit of it in the glow of the flare. Beyond the barest image of it I found the silent darkness behind to be intimidating. Not just like high school bully intimidating, or thug in an alleyway intimidating, but like a supernaturally frightening and patient death kind of intimidating. Pulling my head back I sighed and closed my eyes.
I had no rope to get down but I had some stakes and so I made sure the cable was fastened against the ice so that it would hold my wieght for the short distance I needed it.
There would be no mistakes. I could slide down quickly, attach the device and cables and then detonate.
A weapon. I might need one. The only thing I had was one more flare and my shovel. The shovel might be useful. It had fairly sharp angles.
I walked back over to the edge looking over it with the flare raised up high. Maybe 15 or 16 foot drop, not sure how close it is to the edge.
Something slid past the ice below me. My eyes widened and I froze as I felt a trembling beneath my feet. I looked down back into the abyss and from the dark nest I found that my gut felt as though it was collapsing.
Suddenly there was a creature in my gaze!! It looked like a rotting fetid skull of a woman. It's neck was made up of severed arms grasping one another and the jaw bone dangled from the stinking strands of sinew that remained on this corpsish thing. It's left eye was gone and in its places a radiating ember fire. A blaze in which I could see myself. It drew me into a terrifying world. The world was not hell. I could see that. This was not showing me hades or a burning eternity for my soul...it was showing me the future of the earth. It was showing me the pain and suffering and torment that the earth witnessed throughout its epoch.
I crumbled at the truth that befell me and there I saw what my number was, burnt into my vision, melting into the walls of ice with the breath of fates; 0
I was...zero?
I was....cypher?
It wasn't a number.....it was a beginning.
I fell backwards breathing heavily having seen and now been influenced by the future I knew what needed to be done. I just needed to finish it.
Standing up I walked over to the side of the crevasse and stared deeply without fear. Down there, down in that dark I knew what was waiting for me. Gripping the cable I pulled the cable tight to make sure it was stable, then jumped.
I made sure it was stable...then I jumped.
My feet hit the ground and my flare went out but I could not stop, I did not stop. I fumbled in the darkness for the device with the hand that held the cables. I searched in the darkness for the detonator. It was only a foot from me, I saw it as I hit. There. I found it.
I turned towards the cable and reached into the pocket to grab the second flare.
I pulled it out, put the detonator next to the cable and found the slot to insert the trigger mechanism. Then grabbed the cable and took hold of each end readying myself. I had to see which current was which and I couldn't in the dark.
In the darkness then I heard slow indistinct breathing. My entire body froze, my hands in place.
Once I lit the last flare this thing would be there, it would be waiting for me to see it. To tell me what zero means.
0
Closing my eyes one final time I took a deep breath and lit the flare. The red spark ignited the environment around me and I saw for the first time this creature and what it was. It wasn't what I thought it was.
Behind the ice wall a throne was frozen. For what I could make out it was one of the largest and ornate thrones I had ever seen. It wasn't made of gold though, it was made of oak. Carved symbols for which I could only guess might have been religious in nature thrived in the design and it seemed like a powerful vessel for an emperor.
The thone, while magnificant, was not was I actually staring at though. It was the body that sat, frozen on the throne. A heavy and regal being, whoever this had been was of great importance. The body was draped in certain vestments but it was hard to make out. The head of this body was gone however.
On both sides of the throne a body knelt beside this emperor. A frightening visage, these were creatures of enormous stature and strength obvious protectors of this...king?
Both of the protectors heads gone as well and in place of them a sword planted where the heads might have once been. A strange and familiar site to me. Everything seemed so familiar.
A different creature seemed mottled up against the edge of the ice closest towards me. I couldn't make out the shape but it's neck seemed to have stretched beyond the edge of the wall and been freed.
The gangley rotten head hovering by way of severed arms as a neck was stemming from this fracture in the ice and it actually couldn't reach me.
Still.....I was petrified. It didn't even move. It just hovered staring.
Quickly and frantically I looked down to twist the cables around the correct current and the moment I had them wrapped I flipped the shell to the trigger and looked up.
The decrepit skull had moved closer to me and was literally 3 inches from my face.
"Welcome back to us king cypher...we have been waiting."
With that I closed my eyes and flipped the trigger.
Stepping back from the darkest crevasse would be the most difficult thing I could do, but after tearing myself away I knelt next to my backpack and pulled out the water. It was cold, so cold as it flowed down my throat.
Bowing my head for a moment I took the opportunity to breath deeply and consider what I had to do next. It struck me suddenly. The rest of the dynamite.
I pulled it out and stared at the 3 sticks of explosive in my hand. Last night was exhausting, but this would be the worst of it. I knew it.
The distance to the top of my prison tormented me. There was no way I would leave this place alive and I had to be sure she was gone. Nobody could ever find her.
Grabbing the shovel in my pack I counted about 10 full paces from the edge of the drop of the crevasse and started digging. I dug deep. As deep as I could go.
It was a smart thing to have packed extra cable, I smiled at my last little bit of ego that I was ever going to appreciate.
After digging a good 5 foot hole, I stuffed the dynamite down into it and pulled the cable out extending it and letting it drop over the edge. I buried the explosive and packed the snow as tight as I could. No energy should be focused or escaping. I wanted a very broad and simultanious range of power. Feeling sufficient with the job at that point I went back to my pack and pulled out the detonator. For the moment I sat it on top of the pack and went back to the shovel.
This was going to be the long part. I wanted to make sure this awkward overhang would split and fall. There could be no mistakes.
Plus, I had all the time in the world.
There was a decent overhang directly below the ridge that the thing...the woman...whatever it was, that is where it was nesting.
The overhang was a marginally sloping crust 5 yards to the right of me and 3 yards to the left. Using the shovel I started dotting my oasis with deep holes cut as lines about 2 feet across measuring out the whole structure I stood upon.
It gave me a good baring and I used it to create fractures that would fold under the explosion.
"Kiiiiiing?"
The undertones behind the female voice were devilish. I had never heard such frightening sounds in my life.
"Kiiiiiiiiiiiiing?" it wailed.
I was silent. I stopped digging and stood with my eyes closed, breathing very slowly.
"Kiiiing...."
"I am not king." I whispered under my breath.
My heart was beating thunderously. I wanted to clutch it. To pull it out of my chest and protect it....or smash it.
A low moan followed by a mumbling and then a voice. A perfect beautiful female voice spoke.
"Show me your face King and I will guess your number."
My legs gave out. They failed and crumbled beneath me. I fell onto my knees and hands and began vomiting. The tears pouring from my eyes were painful. All I could do was heave and weep. Everyone of them was gone. I was terrified and alone and about to die.
The faces of my friends and family swept through my mind. Horrible deaths. Each one of them had seen it....each one had been given a number. Each one perished...there had been some pattern, but it was beyond me and it didn't matter.
I had to make sure this thing was dead.
I had to make sure this thing was dead.
That thought echoed through my mind and I took a deep breath and stood up. There was a job to finish.
Night came early....too early. I had two flares and my headlamp but it was dying. I moved as quickly as I could going deep...going hard....no time for sexual innuendo. No time for distractions. No time for pity.
Finaly as the last bit of sunlight died out I grabbed the detonator and stumbled over to the edge where I had laid the cable out. As I knelt and placed the detonator down next to the cable. I stood up and turned the headlamp on as the last bit of sunlight gave out. It was going to get below zero tonight and I know that there is only minutes before I become a slow fumbling freezing idiot moving through the darkness trying not to disturb the waiting wicked that lays beneath me. Fuck this shit.
I remembered though that I needed a trigger attachment in my pack and ran hastily over to it, fearing that my time was running very very short.
I grabbed the device and turned back around to attach it to the detonator. As I mulled my way over there I noticed the cable over the edge go taut and before I could react it had whipped me in the face and I was knocked on my back. The headlamp shorted and I found myself enveloped by a cold void.
There was a bruise on my right temple where it had made contact and I rolled over pulling the flares out of my pocket. Lighting one I raised it into the air to see what had happened.
Squinting in the first red flare up I adjusted my eyes and realized in horror what had happened. Whatever it was that was trapped on the outcrop below me had enough of the cable slack to grab onto. It had doused me in darkness and tossed the detonator over the edge.
Fuck.
FUCK!
I couldn't stand it. It hurt to be in this situation. I hated it! I HATED IT!!
Inhaling deeply I walked towards the inky deep cast in a maroon aura. There was such a horrid creepy feeling inching up my stomach as I neered the cliff. Quietly...though I'm sure it didn't make a single bit of difference; I craned my neck very slowly over the edge. I could feel the lips quivering in the freezing temperatures and I tried to silence them.
I peeked out over the edge holding my breath in, barely showing my face over.
There it was. The detonator. On the damnable nest with that thing. I could only see a bit of it in the glow of the flare. Beyond the barest image of it I found the silent darkness behind to be intimidating. Not just like high school bully intimidating, or thug in an alleyway intimidating, but like a supernaturally frightening and patient death kind of intimidating. Pulling my head back I sighed and closed my eyes.
I had no rope to get down but I had some stakes and so I made sure the cable was fastened against the ice so that it would hold my wieght for the short distance I needed it.
There would be no mistakes. I could slide down quickly, attach the device and cables and then detonate.
A weapon. I might need one. The only thing I had was one more flare and my shovel. The shovel might be useful. It had fairly sharp angles.
I walked back over to the edge looking over it with the flare raised up high. Maybe 15 or 16 foot drop, not sure how close it is to the edge.
Something slid past the ice below me. My eyes widened and I froze as I felt a trembling beneath my feet. I looked down back into the abyss and from the dark nest I found that my gut felt as though it was collapsing.
Suddenly there was a creature in my gaze!! It looked like a rotting fetid skull of a woman. It's neck was made up of severed arms grasping one another and the jaw bone dangled from the stinking strands of sinew that remained on this corpsish thing. It's left eye was gone and in its places a radiating ember fire. A blaze in which I could see myself. It drew me into a terrifying world. The world was not hell. I could see that. This was not showing me hades or a burning eternity for my soul...it was showing me the future of the earth. It was showing me the pain and suffering and torment that the earth witnessed throughout its epoch.
I crumbled at the truth that befell me and there I saw what my number was, burnt into my vision, melting into the walls of ice with the breath of fates; 0
I was...zero?
I was....cypher?
It wasn't a number.....it was a beginning.
I fell backwards breathing heavily having seen and now been influenced by the future I knew what needed to be done. I just needed to finish it.
Standing up I walked over to the side of the crevasse and stared deeply without fear. Down there, down in that dark I knew what was waiting for me. Gripping the cable I pulled the cable tight to make sure it was stable, then jumped.
I made sure it was stable...then I jumped.
My feet hit the ground and my flare went out but I could not stop, I did not stop. I fumbled in the darkness for the device with the hand that held the cables. I searched in the darkness for the detonator. It was only a foot from me, I saw it as I hit. There. I found it.
I turned towards the cable and reached into the pocket to grab the second flare.
I pulled it out, put the detonator next to the cable and found the slot to insert the trigger mechanism. Then grabbed the cable and took hold of each end readying myself. I had to see which current was which and I couldn't in the dark.
In the darkness then I heard slow indistinct breathing. My entire body froze, my hands in place.
Once I lit the last flare this thing would be there, it would be waiting for me to see it. To tell me what zero means.
0
Closing my eyes one final time I took a deep breath and lit the flare. The red spark ignited the environment around me and I saw for the first time this creature and what it was. It wasn't what I thought it was.
Behind the ice wall a throne was frozen. For what I could make out it was one of the largest and ornate thrones I had ever seen. It wasn't made of gold though, it was made of oak. Carved symbols for which I could only guess might have been religious in nature thrived in the design and it seemed like a powerful vessel for an emperor.
The thone, while magnificant, was not was I actually staring at though. It was the body that sat, frozen on the throne. A heavy and regal being, whoever this had been was of great importance. The body was draped in certain vestments but it was hard to make out. The head of this body was gone however.
On both sides of the throne a body knelt beside this emperor. A frightening visage, these were creatures of enormous stature and strength obvious protectors of this...king?
Both of the protectors heads gone as well and in place of them a sword planted where the heads might have once been. A strange and familiar site to me. Everything seemed so familiar.
A different creature seemed mottled up against the edge of the ice closest towards me. I couldn't make out the shape but it's neck seemed to have stretched beyond the edge of the wall and been freed.
The gangley rotten head hovering by way of severed arms as a neck was stemming from this fracture in the ice and it actually couldn't reach me.
Still.....I was petrified. It didn't even move. It just hovered staring.
Quickly and frantically I looked down to twist the cables around the correct current and the moment I had them wrapped I flipped the shell to the trigger and looked up.
The decrepit skull had moved closer to me and was literally 3 inches from my face.
"Welcome back to us king cypher...we have been waiting."
With that I closed my eyes and flipped the trigger.
Wells of the Vast
In a subsequent time we will look back on the absence of our presence in the universe and wonder how we ever evolved as quickly as we did while marooned on Earth mark II.
Spread out among the different systems we became a much more diverse species. Of course because we were forced off of the cradle of human civilization before any of us had achieved proper evolution into a quantum participant state of being it took many developing cultures and colonies a long time to reach such an epiphetical recognition of what they really are.
For others of us we did come to awake sooner.
This seemed to be only the most natural of states. In essence the true face of realization had combined both quantum mechanics and meditation.
The long standing curiosity of how observation affected the behaviors of electrons plagued the scholars, but when it came to note that meditation actually placed the self and mind in a different wavelength the quantum mystery resolved itself. An active being in the middle of higher self or Theta waves will seemingly set their focus not as an individual, but as the whole. The environment, the quantum behaviors, the individual, all of it.
Because of this, the quantum behavior is not affected by observation. It is in fact controlled by theta states of consciousness.
The realization of this led to the advent of many quantum developments and technologies and eventually human A.I. fusion and designed telepathy.
Coded omniescence overlapped our natural human roots and what we once were was forgotten. In the process of this evolution one of the greatest and most questionable of creations was the quantum trace collider.
Basically it was a singularity womb, launched into a black hole at the center of any galaxy. It acted as an implosion that pulled the singularity of the black hole inside of itself using a different designed singularity dubbed the Cypher. The Cypher consisted of 11 miniature black holes which Boson particles seemed to gravitate around.
It's complex reaction was not so much an implosion though as it was a rip pulling away a different rip in space-time.
The figurehead of these monumental events was the Io~Omniarch. A trained Quanta Brahman, a head meditationist who controlled the mechanics within The Cypher.
Why would anyone do such a thing....?
Spread out among the different systems we became a much more diverse species. Of course because we were forced off of the cradle of human civilization before any of us had achieved proper evolution into a quantum participant state of being it took many developing cultures and colonies a long time to reach such an epiphetical recognition of what they really are.
For others of us we did come to awake sooner.
This seemed to be only the most natural of states. In essence the true face of realization had combined both quantum mechanics and meditation.
The long standing curiosity of how observation affected the behaviors of electrons plagued the scholars, but when it came to note that meditation actually placed the self and mind in a different wavelength the quantum mystery resolved itself. An active being in the middle of higher self or Theta waves will seemingly set their focus not as an individual, but as the whole. The environment, the quantum behaviors, the individual, all of it.
Because of this, the quantum behavior is not affected by observation. It is in fact controlled by theta states of consciousness.
The realization of this led to the advent of many quantum developments and technologies and eventually human A.I. fusion and designed telepathy.
Coded omniescence overlapped our natural human roots and what we once were was forgotten. In the process of this evolution one of the greatest and most questionable of creations was the quantum trace collider.
Basically it was a singularity womb, launched into a black hole at the center of any galaxy. It acted as an implosion that pulled the singularity of the black hole inside of itself using a different designed singularity dubbed the Cypher. The Cypher consisted of 11 miniature black holes which Boson particles seemed to gravitate around.
It's complex reaction was not so much an implosion though as it was a rip pulling away a different rip in space-time.
The figurehead of these monumental events was the Io~Omniarch. A trained Quanta Brahman, a head meditationist who controlled the mechanics within The Cypher.
Why would anyone do such a thing....?
Awe-Inspiring
Pan-cosmogalactaculus.
What a wonderful word.
Hakunamatata.
Not so wonderful. Fuck that word.
What a wonderful word.
Hakunamatata.
Not so wonderful. Fuck that word.
Teeth of Gear 11
Though we may all be Lords,
we must continue to never forget
that it is not forever.
Though we may all be our own physician,
we can never let up to the tending of our wounds,
but in keeping the mind to tend to our enemies as well.
However nighcrythe might be,
no matter the jolt or affliction,
there are years and years to term in this lifetime.
So take heed and pay special attention,
to the approach of apprehension.
To the accession of anxiety.
To the advance of anger.
All our bundles are calculated by soul and machine.
Tools of greater fools in a gearbox peach.
Though we may all be Lords,
we must feel the sting of dominion collapse and reform...
we must continue to never forget
that it is not forever.
Though we may all be our own physician,
we can never let up to the tending of our wounds,
but in keeping the mind to tend to our enemies as well.
However nighcrythe might be,
no matter the jolt or affliction,
there are years and years to term in this lifetime.
So take heed and pay special attention,
to the approach of apprehension.
To the accession of anxiety.
To the advance of anger.
All our bundles are calculated by soul and machine.
Tools of greater fools in a gearbox peach.
Though we may all be Lords,
we must feel the sting of dominion collapse and reform...
Pebbles from the Cragg of Canaan
I stimulate the sense, here it is again.
A scream. A whimper. A plea. A sob.
Jolted from my dreams I find beads of sweat forming against my brow. Mouth is dry and eyes are heavy. Forearms quivering as they hold the weight of my torso up in bed. As I sat there in the dark, panting, waiting for the beat of my heart to slow, I could only reflect back on the imagery that lay behind my lids.
There was a breaking of rock. I could hear the thick chunking of axe and rock piloting through the atmosphere into my skull. Many many axes charging away at stone. Heavy stone.
As the ash dissapates the weeping and screaming start.
It was never my intention to just watch creatures suffer. My life has always been directed towards involving myself in the pain of others in order to alleviate or stop it in some way.
There they were though. Angels.
Millions of angels with pickaxes breaking away at chunks of a stentoriously grand cube floating in the air. The cube seemed impenetrably undefinably thick. I knew what the cube held and as I watched these poor creatures, with whom I suddenly realized were tethered to some crystalline form taking shape around what might have been their legs, I found myself painfully speechless.
Within the ultima-cube waited Canaan. Heaven. Nirvana.
These angels were trying to return home.
I could barely make out the definition of each angel and as I approached one I could feel the tears as it wept above me. Looking into its face I then saw the binding around its eyes. All of these creatures were blind.
I collapsed to my knees unable to process the overwhelming scenario. It was unbearable.
These imprisoned angels could never return and even if they somehow managed to tear the monumental stone apart, never would they behold the visage of Canaan, nor would they be allowed to enter in as they were held to their earthly bondage.
In a distant building that sat by itself beneath the stone of Canaan I could hear the preaching of a thousand priests, rabbi, preachers, pastors, ministers and reverends of all religion. The thrumming of their voices created a resonant cacophony which seemed to strengthen the bonds of the angel.
I wondered if perhaps by halting the word of the zealot, I might be able to free the divine....
I wondered.....and then awoke to the screaming in my ears. It was time to wake up.
A scream. A whimper. A plea. A sob.
Jolted from my dreams I find beads of sweat forming against my brow. Mouth is dry and eyes are heavy. Forearms quivering as they hold the weight of my torso up in bed. As I sat there in the dark, panting, waiting for the beat of my heart to slow, I could only reflect back on the imagery that lay behind my lids.
There was a breaking of rock. I could hear the thick chunking of axe and rock piloting through the atmosphere into my skull. Many many axes charging away at stone. Heavy stone.
As the ash dissapates the weeping and screaming start.
It was never my intention to just watch creatures suffer. My life has always been directed towards involving myself in the pain of others in order to alleviate or stop it in some way.
There they were though. Angels.
Millions of angels with pickaxes breaking away at chunks of a stentoriously grand cube floating in the air. The cube seemed impenetrably undefinably thick. I knew what the cube held and as I watched these poor creatures, with whom I suddenly realized were tethered to some crystalline form taking shape around what might have been their legs, I found myself painfully speechless.
Within the ultima-cube waited Canaan. Heaven. Nirvana.
These angels were trying to return home.
I could barely make out the definition of each angel and as I approached one I could feel the tears as it wept above me. Looking into its face I then saw the binding around its eyes. All of these creatures were blind.
I collapsed to my knees unable to process the overwhelming scenario. It was unbearable.
These imprisoned angels could never return and even if they somehow managed to tear the monumental stone apart, never would they behold the visage of Canaan, nor would they be allowed to enter in as they were held to their earthly bondage.
In a distant building that sat by itself beneath the stone of Canaan I could hear the preaching of a thousand priests, rabbi, preachers, pastors, ministers and reverends of all religion. The thrumming of their voices created a resonant cacophony which seemed to strengthen the bonds of the angel.
I wondered if perhaps by halting the word of the zealot, I might be able to free the divine....
I wondered.....and then awoke to the screaming in my ears. It was time to wake up.
Feast the Layer of Soil
Kneeling there, with the muzzle of a semi-automatic weapon digging into my cheek, all I could think of was......well....I couldn't actually think at all. My heart was pounding. My face was flushed. One thousand things thundered through my mind.
The mask holding the weapon was screaming something to me. I couldn't understand him, hell I couldn't even hear him over my pulse.
The muzzle burrowed deeper into my cheek. More screaming, less sense. I felt the shaking. The adrenaline that begin to shoot through every inch of my fragile being was overwhelming. I was about to faint....or....
Later the bank teller would tell the police that I started to scream before I grabbed the weapon out of the Masks hands. That I would proceed to beat him with his own gun before I started firing the weapon into the ceiling still screaming.
That the room began to increase in temperature drastically as the other masks ran towards me.
The bank teller would explain how they felt as the explosion, an obvious detonation triggered by one of the masks, threw them back against the rear wall covering them with debris and blinding them to what would follow.
What the bank teller would not tell the police was how there had been no bomb. The masks only had semi-automatic rifles and a bag.
There had been a sense, a moment that I can remember when the room became a blazing white light and then stopped. I had seemed to step away from myself and take a look around. Upon examining where I stood, I could see the brilliant white light swirling in bursts of electrical current out of my eyes and mouth.
I began to think, "This is it. I have become the very raw emotion that floods from my muscles and bones. Enveloped in daily repetition and endless recycled chaos that means who knows what the fuck, surrounded by people screaming about God and Laws and the Unjust and the Wars and Inevitable Collapse. This is the moment that I had known was always coming. The cosmic combustion."
This form I had seperated my consciousness from remotely viewing the tangible self explode was becoming....
was becoming....
Staring into the core of a sun a trillion times the size of my fist, burning at unimagined temperatures, I opened my arms....and found solace in the crunch that I had succumb to. Ascension was full emersion.
The mask holding the weapon was screaming something to me. I couldn't understand him, hell I couldn't even hear him over my pulse.
The muzzle burrowed deeper into my cheek. More screaming, less sense. I felt the shaking. The adrenaline that begin to shoot through every inch of my fragile being was overwhelming. I was about to faint....or....
Later the bank teller would tell the police that I started to scream before I grabbed the weapon out of the Masks hands. That I would proceed to beat him with his own gun before I started firing the weapon into the ceiling still screaming.
That the room began to increase in temperature drastically as the other masks ran towards me.
The bank teller would explain how they felt as the explosion, an obvious detonation triggered by one of the masks, threw them back against the rear wall covering them with debris and blinding them to what would follow.
What the bank teller would not tell the police was how there had been no bomb. The masks only had semi-automatic rifles and a bag.
There had been a sense, a moment that I can remember when the room became a blazing white light and then stopped. I had seemed to step away from myself and take a look around. Upon examining where I stood, I could see the brilliant white light swirling in bursts of electrical current out of my eyes and mouth.
I began to think, "This is it. I have become the very raw emotion that floods from my muscles and bones. Enveloped in daily repetition and endless recycled chaos that means who knows what the fuck, surrounded by people screaming about God and Laws and the Unjust and the Wars and Inevitable Collapse. This is the moment that I had known was always coming. The cosmic combustion."
This form I had seperated my consciousness from remotely viewing the tangible self explode was becoming....
was becoming....
Staring into the core of a sun a trillion times the size of my fist, burning at unimagined temperatures, I opened my arms....and found solace in the crunch that I had succumb to. Ascension was full emersion.
Out Spoke They Who Hath Future
I saw a child sitting atop a rock.
This child was not a boy and this child was not a girl. This child was an inhabitant of soil and water, grass and flame.
The child sat there, peering beyond sky into what I could only guess was an overture of the universes history. I asked the child, "Would you tell me what you see?"
No flinch or movement from this child as the child answered.
"There is no need to tell you what I see."
I asked the child, "Would you tell me why there is no need?"
The child answered, "There is no need for me to explain."
I asked the child, "How then will I learn?"
The child answered, "There is no need for me to teach."
I was silent for a moment and then returned my own gaze to the sky.
This child was not a boy and this child was not a girl. This child was an inhabitant of soil and water, grass and flame.
The child sat there, peering beyond sky into what I could only guess was an overture of the universes history. I asked the child, "Would you tell me what you see?"
No flinch or movement from this child as the child answered.
"There is no need to tell you what I see."
I asked the child, "Would you tell me why there is no need?"
The child answered, "There is no need for me to explain."
I asked the child, "How then will I learn?"
The child answered, "There is no need for me to teach."
I was silent for a moment and then returned my own gaze to the sky.
The Coming Windfall
I am going to be reposting a lot of my written work from a different site, this place:
There are a number of them and some which I consider my better pieces because they are for the most part complete. Being complete makes me happy and is so difficult to come by...for anything I do, ever.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Least of all
my house is getting emptier.
I lose the proof of memories in order to remake new ones later. Its an enterprising behavior because it forces the individual to restock surroundings and as in evolution tendencies towards stronger acclimation of a variable, so too does the individual find increasingly suitable evidence of a tangible universe.
Lament aught
Twelve fold destination,
fascination,
inclination to be
all the rest
of each and all,
the buried,
married
and thin carry all.
What it was today,
is today,
not to say
that Im walkin away,
from this world I see
encompassing me,
for in my perception
for in my perception
there is connection
there is resurrection.
~MAP~
A Luminous Blue Variable catches your gaze. Drifting into nebulatic dreams your focus of attention is now scattering through the cosmos.
In the Variable star you glean the visage of an eleven hundredth fold pop. Center. Magnitude, incomprehensible.
Within what you conceive as a mere second occurs on a heavier time scale in a place you have yet to experience.
A resonant pulse rattles your guts and though frozen in an aware and subjective state you still feel its energy. Then a darkness consumes the blue variable, sweeping through the atmospheric weight banded skin of magnetically licked flames the Blue Variable sucks itself into a white singularity and within that same moment BURSTS through the universe!! You are enclosed within the feathers of an expanding super supernova and suddenly in the tidal wave of the cosmic event your eyes truly awaken to the sight. You stand in awe and security, blessed by the insubstantial station your writer has written for you.
Then you turn the board around and surf the hypernova.
Weather Line: A Zombies Turn
Falling like metal pellets eroding in an acid storm the rain fell harder and tasted of vile and sulpher. It spread over the county and soaked the streets in a stained oil slick liquid.
A home down the street in a neighborhood that seemed very suburban was occupied by 4 residents.
Yard Visik, Lenny Pensacotti, Richard "Dub" Loader and Thomas Wrectein. Each an upstanding and community minded individual willing to do just about anything for their neighbors....if this was 1953.
Its not. It's 2009.
They're all lazy unmotivated stoners.
-----
The house was a small rental. 3 rooms, 1 and a half bathrooms, a living room which was at the moment also a bedroom for one of the residents, a kitchen, a closet and a patio.
It was a house, like one you might see in a....a neighborhood say.
As the storm continued to build outside Yard was sitting around surfing the stations. His eyes were closing steadily but his finger seemed to be working at full retention. 3 stations per second, or 3 s/s. Pretty decent rate but most potheads have an increased surf sweep capacity anyway so it wasn't much of a surprise.
Lenny was on his computer in the corner of the living room puffing on a recently rolled joint, the fresh odor of cleanly burning purple kush filling the senses and enlightening the heart.
Richard or "Dub" as people called him, was sitting next to Yard loading his last bowl. It was from his dub sack to which his name came from. Dub had a tendency to buy reg's twenty sacks and would puff it all away in a single day.
He said it was his medication. Apparently the regular weed is merely his medication to sustain himself while the kine buds were always for enjoyment and celebration....and every day was a day to celebrate.
As everyone was in their appropriate place sitting in silence providing no real insight to the worlds problems, Tom came through the door in haste with a few bags in his arms. His eyes were slightly wild and looking around as though he was going through a lot of thoughts at once.
"Didja grab the Arizona tea?" Dub asked without detouring his attention from the task at hand.
Tom, still confused walked into the kitchen and started to slowly put the food away. He didn't answer Dub.
"Hey could you pour me a glass if you did get it?" Still Dub's eyes did not divert as he finished stuffing the remnants of his dub sack into the bongs bowl.
Lenny looked over at the kitchen and saw that Tom was lost in some kind of thought.
"You ok?" Lenny asked.
Tom looked up, a glaze coming over his expression.
"Ye...yeah. I'm fine. I just....just need to hit that."
Lenny got up and walked over to Tom handing him the kush J. Tom took a long drag on it and held it in for a moment before starting to explain something before he released the smoke.
"So...Bwub...uhb, I woos walking back....wheeeew!" He blew the smoke out. "Sorry...I was walking back and I passed by a car accident that had happened on a street a few blocks down. There weren't any police around."
Yard looked up from the tv.
"How bad was it?"
"The car had hit a fire hydrant and water was coming out. It didn't look bad but I saw some people. Couldn't make them out very well though." Tom replied.
"What were they doing? Were they hurt?" Len pondered.
"I don't really know. It looked like there was someone on the ground and two people were kneeling over them. Couldn't see what they were doing though."
The room got quiet. All of them realized that if it was only a few blocks away they would have heard sirens by now. This was not a good sign for them for while they were stoners and really lazy, they had a ethical responsibility as human beings to make sure someone was responding to the scene in case people were hurt.
"So who's gonna call?" Dub asked.
They all looked at each other. A moment went by and finally Tom sighed.
"I saw it, I guess I should be the one to call."
He walked over to the phone, picked it up and put it to his ear.
"Hey." Tom exclaimed, "The phones dead!"
The bad sign just got worse, now they might have to go check the accident on their own. Before any slow to progress ideas came to light though they lost theirs. The lights that is.
The whole house fell into darkness and an even heavier silence than before filling the house with the rain taking the tvs place as the dominant sound in the background.
Lenny took a puff from the joint.
Then there was a knock at the door. Everybody froze. The knock came again, urgently.
.....
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