After each murder they change gloves. Makes them feel not guilty.
Politicians are gloves. How can you not love democracy where the victims feel like they participate in serving justice by voting on removing gloves from the hands they can’t even see.
Restless
once on the other side I will start anew as particle of God
single charge of holy dust
crystal drop in a river of light
twinkle in the Eye
being human down here hurt my guts way too far and beyond reason
so weird to have those attachments to happiness and fear
bipolar fight or flight
and look at all the blood in the sand never drying out
nourishing fear of the future, present and past
even the stars went silent at the cemetery of sky
mourning its dead and the fate I got from their reckless play above
said too much to them about where I have been
what I have seen behind the curtain of reality that fell on me
but soon I am getting out to pursue another eternity
as it couldn’t wait past this life
it seems
to materialize
By design
this life contains episodes that might not be suitable
for all audiences but me
as I know what I like and I know my disease
it is not for everyone
my rogue song
low
slow
to put you to sleep
wake your dreams in order of priorities perceived
but guess what
it is not my design
not my script
I am just a performer of Sorority of End Times
not a sign myself
but I watch them shadows
swallow my illusions at will
that’s how they feed off my battlefields
Fight
I had no choice but to go to war with who I am
starve my my body and mind
turn into a carbon gem of higher ground and purpose
and it is not a shadow it is real me of the past
that I must face now
self-indulgent clown always beating a dead horse
the goat
breathing
dancing corpse
here I come
string puppet hanging idle on fulfillment and good vibe
this sudden change
don’t think it will last beyond my life
but why not try the other way around
the inevitable crash
finally wake up
embrace the promise of getting one more day closer to the end
the Sun is still high
to purify
what’s left of visible trash outside
Resurrection
no-one wants to be known for resurrection
so much burden of re-entering meat
stink of reality
duality of existence
and
once dead can one be trusted?
being back from the land no one cares to cross or measure
and what voices will come to head that abandoned flesh
breathed outside all mighty
all transparent air
what if resurrection is just a demonic play in disguise
manifestation designed to supposedly erase anxiety and fear
but in fact a mortal blow to heavenly peace of mind
before you know what hit you
and you again turn into lump of clay
hostile others work on
Letting go
it was a nice run
wasn’t long or wide
but it was strangely mine
walk of life through fire
and even though I ran blind
barefoot and spied on
numbered with delinquent debt
watched along every toll and path
still
each step got me closer to Christ
his fantastic crowd
my fanatic brothers in arms
as life is just a different name
for slow
slow death
and obviously we get crucified
by what we couldn’t let go
in time
we got to play outside the Ether
the vault of Heaven
we came from
Recognition/Easter 2025
God is about spirituality, Satan about religion.
Atheism is a revolt against religion and when not induced with spirituality it comes down to sex, food and shelter or generally speaking survival which is not possible in this realm in the long run, which makes atheism hopeless. Both God and Satan, respectively, through spiritual enlightenment or religious beliefs promise a way out of this predicament into different realm and while both promises might be true…only religion is used as a way to manage and control humans while they are living as biological entities turning them conveniently into slaves.
Satan
Accept the rhythm of my revolt
the sound of my despair
remember
I am no flesh
I am pure anger
my part being none below
my part being none above
over Creation
I always step out of line
to bring chaos and pain
I only form a line
to introduce a pattern
to destruction of Earth
the center of Universe I love to watch suffer and die
Armageddon takes place
because it is all done
for
I already won
this race
slave-Apes
Obey
Simple
You can’t manage your way out of a bad luck but you can manage your luck before it turns bad.
Polish Journey of a man
the day I was born
blessed with blue skies
falling down on my mother’s land
bathed in holy rain
blood of broken saints dried to bones under alien Sun
calendars marked red between the Son in Heaven and 44′ on Earth
Poland
what a sick place to arrive
a little child
now grown again
life walking to my closest end in US
I cried
oh I cried
for nothing
years have passed silently by me like clouds above
far and away killer lands
evil higher ground sprayed on translucent continents
distorted and foreign shapes to faces and homes
I bet you walked the same walk
down the winding road to Dahlonega
as my father did and never stopped
till the day he died a lost soul
but no
he never got lost in the back roads of blind
no
through
towns
barking his head off for a greener grass or a bone thrown by local clowns
never drowned to rest on riverbed of disguise
of mud
of lures
sex
never cursed no God
I took his path to divine
and ran
run blind
ran wild
being still alive is not a crime
thus I climb up the mountains that can not be moved
speak to walls that don’t echo my words into lies
Yes, Father
the light arrived on time
look at me now
I still am
your other son
and I don’t judge the journey
I only turned off the dark
drove by this place once more
just once more
to turn on the dawn
for all living I am leaving behind
to dance in the spirit world