I wear my anger like a golden crown, full of Love & irate decency! Lest the beheaded & elated drown in the idiot dross, enamored of urchin hatred or outright ideological ugliness. What a marvelous pride. To wear my well earned head wear, fit for a king, from another world.
There are no ghosts there.
Only in our chivalry, it’s me who decides to forgive. It was me who chose to love.
What was down under. Now buried, has turned into another day’s dirt. What was cherished, children, women, rots like an illusory cloud behind the magic scenes of make-believe philanthropic skies!
The dirty laundry has finally dried
just to see if it was you, a dangling!
My inerte belly in a blithe & blimey mess
glistening like a mossy haystack
in a lunar gore.
Itsy bitty thoughts of those sundry hated memories, that made me guilty, pulverized. How happy to know you’re dead and gone, drifting in your newly found corporal Paradise, like an evil charm! In some other’s physical frame, somewhere.
The Hindu monkey tribes happy to have ya! A futur cadaver to ferment on a pile of human beef: waiting in the vestibule to make cosmetic cream, and longer darker exotic lashes.
Because here, where we are dead and gone, disappeared into immortal Taoist havens, you cannot enter, thanks be to God. The Mind that I’ve made up, and yes out of nothing! if not of very bad and disgruntling regrets, has be converted into the Noble Gleaming of an Eternal Wakefulness.
I wear my crowned helm of wrath, golden become a sweet dream. Filled with True Love of Other, an irate perfume inundates the etheric household belonging to my beloved Soul.
Ô how to, to the big stream, where the Sun caged in, pours forth its bounty of misguided blinding pain?
To transpierce the evil eye behind the curtains. This the worthy bain to heap on the head, a brazen clutter:
“My anger is my honor. The Sun that I, have devoured, my faithfulness.”
How good it feels to know you’re dead & gone, to your happy heaven. There where the woke fools weep and mock the brave.
From here I’ll make a place for my kind and me!
Personally I don't think so. As it is I can always do better. When what we say, happens; means the gods are with us. If not, it's just bla bla bla!
Words are elements of power. Vehicles of Will. No use in them if they cannot affect the Anima Mundi of things. Making blisters in the inadequate brains of general mankind. Sorry, I mean humanity! Mankind disappeared in 1945.
I, like you, we reside within the Aether, we are its awakened mind. Ave & Salut à Toi.
You who speak with a bird's tongue, what ever you meant by that, is there any reason at all to be angry if one are Serbian, from the former Yugoslavia, but love Hitler and socialism, when you think about what Hitler's soldiers did to that people? Or is that just "amazing grace" since shit happens in war, you know. So I supposed Jack Heart and HP will never address this matter, in the name of "evangelizisation", right? Maybe you can? May these things subtract a little from Hitler's Karma amongst the boyclub in here?
https://dbpedia.org/page/Blood_Road
https://www.norgeshistorie.no/andre-verdenskrig/1741-100000-russerfanger-i-norge.html