LOOT

Oat Pie

Outside, it was a cold and ugly night, but down within the walls of my dwelling's basement I felt a sense of calm come over me. Seemingly, in the midst of a dream, I heard my conscious say, “Hush my good friend, the opiate you ingested is now starting to take effect.” But I would soon realise, I may have underestimated the hallucinogenic and psychedelic properties of my night’s entertainment. The sensation of my sweat pores across my brow peeling open coincided with the sensation of seeing a part of me project across the room. In a not so surprising turn of events, my astral self then proceeded to jerk off to the audible and at this time, very visual sound waves emanating from my record player speakers.

Nude Trow

My convicted, heinous crime of intolerance was not looked upon too favourably within the house of pain. I had coined it the “house of pain” after one particular night. It was on this night that I lay there slumped, in a disgustipated, wretched state from my umpteenth prison sex bashing. It wouldn't be for another 10 years that I would find myself free from that flood of torment. On the outside I found it an overwhelming struggle to integrate back into a society I knew nothing of. This struggle was exponentially compounded by my substance abuse in an attempt to crawl away and scratch those plagued memories of my time inside. If I did not sober up I would rapidly find myself at the bottom, feeding off life's detritus to the tune of a swamp song. I could not however, break away from my downward spiral and I soon found myself 4 degrees from the undertow that would release me from my tormented existence. Somehow I knew I would be in a better place.

Næ Am I?

Many within the industry would comment on how Jimmy would often pushit too far. However, it was within the industry's deep and darkened underground circles where the stinkfist activities of Jimmy could soon result in the reading of his eulogy. In these underground circles Jimmy was commonly referred to as, the “hooker with a penis”, or quite simply, “H.”. H. however, did not perceive his lewd actions as a death wish but as a means to project to another spiritual dimension. H.'s first spiritual experience was achieved on the set of “Die Eier Von Satan”. Here it was his ænema, fully charged with (-) ions that released his third eye. It was during the next intermission period following this initial, out of body, dimensional encounter that H. penned a message to Harry Manback, his mentor and one would say, surrogate father figure. “Your guidance has been immensely useful. However, 'idiot' has been a term by many others describing my actions. I really do not give a shit about their opinion, more so now that I can clearly see and understand the Cesàro Summability of my, some may say, wicked ways. Surely now this is the beginning of my becoming forty-six & 2.”

Vial Las

X. had earlier struggled to fully comprehend the sporadic, powerful ability to astrally project herself and communicate with others in a higher plane of existence. The turning point however, was when X. could formulate the elastic potential energy of her 'physical being' which then enable her to control and unlock the full potential of her third eye. These revelations allowed X. to pushit, and transgress her space of higher consciousness to a point where she could now constantly undertake Merkaba meditation. “Both my inner and outer realms in conjunction with my physical self are now a part of me,” X. pondered. In her heightened conscious projections X. could now also send a message to Harry Manback II, but instead of a message of praise, as was the case with H., X. would remind HMII, “You lied to me, you rotten cunt! When I came to you seeking advice about my initial astral projections, you would leave me no quarter of the amount of guidance or knowledge of what you provided to H. I was scared and confused. What was happening to me? Were they to happen again? But now I have mastered the ability to ascend, all that I now wish for you is to rot in the LAMC and face the torment of Maynard's dick!”

All Sat Rue

While I sat there watching this person, the grudge he so doggedly held onto fueled the acrimonious attitude he had towards three innocent individuals. Thankfully however, this attitude was not a reflection of society as a whole, but, a very staunch group of individuals who lay claim to hearing the Faaip De Oaid. The schism struck between two diametrically opposed combatants of believers and non-believers would only exacerbate with the persistence of time. The so called sons of god could not be distracted from the notion that, in their mind, the triad of ticks and leeches had a disposition to follow a ‘black’ faith, so very different to theirs. Hence, creating a purely, at best circumstantial argument against the unjustly accused. So begs the question, was it the three individuals on trial here, or more so their beliefs? Is it too far-fetched then to think that these narrow minded individuals who are so scared of what they perceived to “possess” the unjustly accused are not too different from themselves, principally speaking? Out of a parabol they eat the flesh and from a parabola-like chalice they drink the blood. I therefore find it somewhat amusing that these “all so holy of holiest individuals” are so quick to condemn the actions of others supposedly so different to them. But when it is all said and done, are they really condemning ones different beliefs, interests and free minded spirit? It is generally said that we are all afraid of things we do not know anything about, but that does not give us the right to scorn others so different to us. Why should we subject ourselves to an eon blue apocalypse when we can easily apply a lateralus way of thought? After all, if it weren’t for our non-linear mindset, where would we be today? If I were limited in my choice and development of ideals, and told that I must follow this rather than make my own choice(s), then I may very well end up as the patient in one of those so-called rehabilitation facilities. A final word then to these narrow minded, uneducated “believers”, would your thoughts be the same against other mantras if they wore black or listened to metal? Free the WM3!

10,000 Days

It could well of been the pot, in fact I’m sure of it, that led to my lost keys (blame Hoffman), and hence, my physical and somewhat abstract mental presence to remain where I lay. With both me and Rosetta stoned, unable to (physically) venture too far, we decided to embark on yet another thought provoking journey. The intension between Rosetta and I often resulted in vicarious recollections where we would arrive at an analogous conclusion. Tonight would be no exception. My journey began from within the lush and humid canopy of the Jambi landscape whereas the genesis of Rosetta’s path invoked the Lipan conjuring out in the desert plains of Texas. What was to follow in the next 10,000 days would be a macroevolutionary event culminating in wings for Marie. Could it be that our existence has split right in two, in order to harbor viginti tres? Or could we in fact soon be facing the prospect of another forty-six & 2?

Mace It All

Lam Elk Ill
The phantom lord hit the lights and he would hold no remorse for those who would suffer under the torturous actions of his metal militia as he commanded them to ride south and to seek and destroy. Scented with the smell of motorbreath, the four horsemen were able to approach The Chosen with ample stealth to strike alarm and fear into their non-significant existence they called life. For those Chosen, they would soon suffer the pain of pulling teeth, have their body subjected to whiplash or be forced to jump in the fire.

Grinding the Hilt
As I lay there trapped under ice I had one of two options, fade to black or escape. I chose the later, but in doing so I heard the call of Cthulhu and I knew then that I would soon come face to face with creeping death. But to fight fire with fire I too would have to ride the lightning. As for whom the bell tolls? It would not be I.

Feast popper smut
We stood before the thing that should not be. Thoughts racing through our heads. Could this be the Leper Messiah or the mythological hunter himself, Orion? What ever this thing was if we did not act quickly we would all soon be damage inc. But wait. The master of puppets is calling, welcome home (sanitarium). We are nothing but a battery of disposable heroes.

Arcade Sinful Jolt
The clock turned past the midnight hour into dyers eve, a night more blackened than others. This night will portend the harvester of sorrow to gouge out the frayed ends of sanity of a society in what we perceive to know. The gatherer of endless sorrows will decide the fate of us all based solely on The One who selects the shortest straw. This selection will reveal whether to live is to die and justice for all is truly in the eye of the beholder.

Cabal Bulk Them
My constant battle with the struggle within had started to make me think that I was truly of wolf and man. In order to cast out further conflict I would also soon learn that wherever I may roam through the never it would have to be of this chimeric form. But, how could I suffer this fate when it was surely the God that failed in “leading” me to believe they were holier than thou? It is this false Deity for whom should be cast out as the unforgiven! If it were not for the voice of my friend of misery then I would surely still exist as a single entity un-kowningly floating through a facade of righteousness. But now as I retain this chimeric form I use it to my advantage so that other so-called people of faith don't tread on me once more. It is sad but true that others who still believe do so in a manner as if they are pleading the phrase, “Please enter sandman and guide my dreams to make me believe.” Nothing else matters more to me than to rid this deception of faith as it will ultimately lead to our self destruction.

Ad Lo
Ronnie, who always like to think of himself as the hero of the day had nothing more than than to confide in his thoughts. For as long as he could sanely remember he had been imprisoned in a 2x4 metre rusted cell within the basement of the house Jack built. Jack's house remained in a part of the land where no authority figure resided over and until there was a King nothing could be done to free Ronnie from his sociopathic tormentors. In Ronnie's mind he always tried to escape from the pain as his tormentors would repeatedly thrust the thorn within. But no matter how hard he tried he would inevitably screech out, “Why are you bleeding me!?” With that came no answer and as Ronnie started to slip into a state of unconsciousness he would again in his own thoughts plead, surely there is a cure to rid of this evil that possesses someone to perform such unspeakable acts.
Even though Jack and his Mama shared a common interest in the torment of Ronnie, this subject matter would also often cause conflict between the two.
Jack's Mama said, “More than once you have wasted my hate on you when I could of inflicted that hate down in the basement!”
To which Jack's reply was, “It is as if I am the outlaw, torn between killing you Mama or not!”
“Poor twisted me, but wait, she ain't my bitch!” Jack would then think to himself.
This argument with his Mama, Jack decided, would be the very last as he would wait until it sleeps before taking care of her once and for all. He would then plan to make his way down to the basement, perhaps for the last time.

Lead Or...
In order to grow the bad seed one must add fuel to the fire that flickers within. Too little fuel then our lives will slowly slither off into obscurity, too much fuel then we may very well find ourselves where the wild things are. We cannot portray ourselves to be Prince Charming all of the time but we cannot perform the Devil's Dance night after night either. If the memory remains locked within we may find ourselves singing the low mans lyric for the best part of our lives before realising it is too late. At times we may be the unforgiven II but other times, as an attitude fixxxer, we will have to admit we are better than you. Carpe Diem baby! Because tomorrow may be to late.

Angst Re...
If you look through a dirty window you will often perceive, albeit erroneously, some kind of monster on the other side. Therefore you must purify your, more than likely, frantic thoughts before passing judgment. There should never be a St. Anger but unfortunately in my world there are some who will create an invisible kid who in turn embarks on searching for the unnamed feeling. If you decide to shoot me again without thought remember this, I will in time hold all within my hands that sweet sweet amber once more.

Time, Than Caged
At this point in time we were feeling broken, beat & scared as we continued to wait for the day that never comes. I was adamant we were not, but it was becoming apparent we were the unforgiven III. As further time passed I started to realise this reality we found ourselves in is a clear depiction of my apocalypse that I envisaged all nightmare long. If we were to plant the Judas kiss with a sprinkling of cyanide would we truly be committing suicide & redemption at the same time? No, I think not. I feel we need to redeem ourselves by some other non-mortal means. Even though some may say that was just your life, I feel that if you are facing the end of the line you need to fight every inch of the way in order to make it to the other side. But, if you make it to the other side and you happen to glance back from whence you came remember this, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger!

Throe
Even behind a no leaf clover I disappear to leave the world minus human.