above picture intentionally taken before captioned with incriminating information.
...
Prologue: From Journal entries:
12-18-09 c.e.v.
The Tiger is a wholly Satanic force in nature. An apex predator: Cloaked in daylight and designed by god to be capable of killing without hesitation or remorse. All blazing tendons and fever tension and accusing glares. But verily you must see that the Tiger chooses to live this way only because it knows, if only instinctually, the heavy responsibility it alone carries: the doom of all tigers.
1-2-10
3:33 am
To put at end an evocation… (to pronounce sentence)
To trade the crown for the earth may be a bit easier than it sounds, but it is almost certainly a hell of a lot harder than it looks.
The gods have no patience for the mad schemes and half baked plans of the sprawling mass of mewling mortals. The divine can dictate only absolute law. Infinite. Immutable and infallible as thermodynamics. No elbow room for grey shades or fuzzier logics. Pandora’s Box is filled to the very tip-top brims, like a suitcase that requires your full body weight to make its zipper function.
The only thing all complex life has in common is inevitable and/or imminent death. This should be more than enough to engender some sense of solidarity.
(“Father forgive them for they know what they are doing”)
paste:
3:33 p.m.
Angst is a small word. Really it’s a lot more like leftover apathy which has been enably induced during the total devastation of an overabundant aftertaste of absolute disdain. Or something.
But I’m not really interested in talking about all of that right now.
Instead: resolutions v. resolve:
a resolution is a more than likely empty promise one might make to oneself or one’s witnesses, to remind and/or coerce one into doing something one (or one's witnesses) has decided would be best for one to do. It describes accuracy of transmission. A clarity of focus if not actively measuring an actual signal strength. Useless. In and of itself, a wasted endeavor minus any previously existing receivers.
resolve is a character trait which is required in order to finally achieve these purposes.
[also good at spot treatments]
this is not a resolution. it is a manifesto.
Life is waxing excitement by mounting patience.
All angels are demons, but not all demons are angels.
3:45 p.m.
Speak now or forever hold your peace…
1. The Seal of the Silver Sun:
(A sacrifice of secondary sites?)
tender resignations. some remains unspoken.
(simply, Simon shakes off second sights)
Circumambulates. Fourscored. Save one.
takes steps to Solomon’s solution.
Seriously.
steadfast shoulders shiver. Sour scours of so-called command somewhat stretch solo scolding scowls across countenances and closeted countries.
seal sought sacred: Silver Sun.
sadeness settles in: gives slip service to solace. Sweating like Gethsemane. A single servant, stoic and serpentine, still stands.
So long.
Studies sloughed like so much skin. Shines of the southernest valleys slowly sigh, and are sold out, swept up, signed away. Multitudes of legends already lost. Absent. Lingering lame limbed lords lull and languish. (stupid cunts) Engraved in Golden groves within guarded Golgonooza, this, the greatest Golem, generally agrees: “sorrow’s spindle is surely spent,” and then, “Now begins the Goat Song.”
Forged. Felt. Fierce. Forthwith.
Lone Lambs obscenely slain. Lulls of livid lightnings are lustrously loomed. Long Limbed Lamentations. Greened Golem. Giant-sized. Gyrates. Genuflects. Gently jests. Judges.
2. the verdict:
Even in grudge’s grip, this long done gone gravely and often called very godless golem urges calm, promises peace, gives great advice...
Canned-maiden comes firstly. super-lean go-between. Jaded jet-set Jaguar. Happily hasting thaw. (hardball) Harping. Harshest Fall. Quicker than Jephthah. Exists. Exacts. Exits. Stage Left even. Secretes secrets so subtle. “sometimes,” she speaks, “slow psalms can outstrip even the strongest Sanhedrin shadows.”
slept seemingly sound. silent snoring syndrome. sodden sulking way stations wane as said sad scene shreds and separates. Twice since sonnetted.
Seconds.
Seconds.
Stop. Just stop. spiritus sancti suggests:
He…
(that regenerative golem above)
He, sweet scented, of chutes and stairs: He scores. Sings. Slowly, He says:
“i will deliver our people. i will speak my mind. (i will say ‘yes’) i will drain this cup. i will burn until naught remains but the ashes of my indignations. i will scatter to the winds. i will exalt in my feelings of uncertainty and disorientation. i will accept the realization of the unpardonable alienations of the world as given, freely gifted from history, biology, chaos, god. i will revel in the impermanence of love and lovers, making what can be from what is and luxuriating eternally in the rising temperature of my blood. i will let Our Lady Of The Stars have her ways in all things in which i am not utterly adamant of opinion (those being not opinion but truth) and in these few i will see our ways become The Way. i will choose always the straight path, yea, though long it has been, even now it is, and long it will be that which is not, as many may say, the shortest distance between beginning and destination. i will greedily consume every ounce of pain or pleasure laid before me, as one who truly starves, famished by serial numbness, with each morsel ingested as though it were the first breakfast or the last supper. i will be dizzy with sickness and madness. i will be lost in places i never intended to visit. i will expire when my days have fled from me and i will be grateful for the final opportunity to flee. i will blaspheme even The Most High. i will break open the gates of paradise. i will put saints and sinners to the sword. i will, in the end, tear down all these barriers we’ve built to shield our comfort from the Revelation that only sunlight invokes. in this desert, i will ignite a candle for each of our children, even those that have been forgotten, until the heat of flames grows intense enough to wake the giant from its slumber. (i will fall) i will walk to the limits of space and time to discover that which has ever been hidden from the faithful and the meek. i will not rest, though unavoidable decay and eventual oblivion will take their toll, to seek out justice for our crimes. i will take my place then among the guilty. i will not recant. i will not repent. i will not regret. i will not reconsider.”
He issues a low loudening groan.
“YOU CANNOT SERVE TWO MASTERS.”
And then He gives up the ghost.
by Perelandra » Wed Dec 30, 2009 12:51 am 
