Occult Fan

Master no Self

Feird Wishes

Solar flares

and tidal waves

moonwrath fern the gull fell a victim

travel wear ring

ring steam keen other dimension doomtrain

fringe of the fireflies forage forbidden fruit

domino most lost almond-eye anodyne non-personal-crimes

doctors on fire, liar like lawyer

sell a soul for hell or way

dance gravely sovereign

you can use a little mouthpiece

the crack of the drugwhip

keep marching, keep marching, keep marching

Sum Of Everything

Even ‘ere ‘ese evenings now

hall til sees mirage ricochet

vincit squalls mirror imago

swipe fresh mauve sweatfresh

meatswollen gasps vats of ’em

Better Without Veils

When I try to tell you the truth

I only obscure it

the only truth is

without words, all meaning

that I embrace you

that I love you

perhaps you are stronger than I

perhaps you are more in possession of the spirits,

or of the monetary elements

or the minds of other women, men

perhaps it is I

who am favoured

in relations to you, with these

in some or any

of many measures

I still wouldn’t

trade them all

for Truth

O, Truth!

the truth is

I only wish to hold you

in the morning

to set you free

for the day

and to embrace you again

in the sad and lonely evening

you, Seeker

who are of amongst the Stars

heaven will always hold you

but will I?


I wish only

to tell, to speak, Truth

there are no more meanings

in my verses, than a bomb

or a brook

how I wipe the tears from my eyes

as a hawk would

dive for her prey

oh so pretty in my youth

but now

here I am

today, and I

only wish to reveal

but I only reveil




and the wisest among us know

O, Socrates!

that it is only in simplicity

in plain living

in the True and Inner Landscape

that Meaning has Any Meaning At All


So I won’t grasp or hoard

or otherwise defile you

I won’t hurt nor hinder nor harm

you who are too wild

as am I, we wild and born free

no matter the so called Kings

of Earth or of Skye

I only wish

to dance

to laugh

to sing

to leap

to run free

and the same, in all aims, you true, too

my beauty

the red faced sun upon the heaven’s sea

Steiner (Shot In The Dark) [Et in Arcadia Day-Glo]

Every day I know I’m supposed to be making my art.

My writing, be it poetry, fiction, biography or otherwise.

Most-so my music.

I feel … too free, trapped in this overwhelm of possibility, of apathy.

My work, so that I am worthy, and not some useless drone, is to be an artist. Not to bitch about the alchemy that protects me, albeit in minor sum, financially.

I see such horror in this world. So many morons believing lies, that too.

The horror of innocence raped. The horror of pretend adults masking their reality. Just get ready for the AR, Players Ones.

My will to upward spiral is in-tact.

I know that we live from life to life, evolving towards spiritual perfection.

So I feel hellacious when I just… want to ‘give in’. Code up with the vampyrs, you know?

Coz fuck if I’m going to take the Steiner Shot. You know what I’m talking about?


Steiner Shot


In 1917 Rudolph Steiner said this. I know what I know, and I don’t need some fucking white coat satan arse licking loser to fool me in to negating my own gnosis. What a bunch of fool-ass cowards and moron idiot losers I see around me. My compassion for them has drawn near thin-to-nigh.

And in this backwards world, this Damnationland, we see the foolish cows trusting the same people/entities that would gladly rape them, suck them dry, and throw them away.

Just venting, since it’s better than drinking, and after all, I’m ‘an artist, an performer, an entertainer’ … an APE, acronymming it.

So everything I say is just a joke. You know?

“I can say what I want to, even if I’m not serious.” – ‘Hush’, by Tool

And so many who are taught to ‘follow reason’, ho ho ho, oh oh oh no no no they don’t. Unless I haven’t been ‘read in’, you know, maybe that’s it. But fuck, fuck, fuck it all. I just don’t work for Satan. I would rather die than give up freedom. But perhaps, perhaps somewhere along the lines back over a decade ago, maybe, before all my initiations, before my becoming engaged and then breaking it off… maybe I made a deal with a devil that was instantine. Perhaps, perhaps, maybe I’m just… frustrated and want to break free, make my art, damn the consequences, damn the ridicule of the slave maskses I mean classes. Because there’s a few things I’m trying to express here, but if you don’t agree, then you’re just stupid.

I’m sick of conspiracy theory, and I’m sick of bad actors, and I’m sick of terrible lies.

You know? I want to help, like… Truth… ha. Maybe that’s why I’m spinning my wheels. You don’t want the truth, you want convenience. You want to have fun with B.O.B. Because you are rotten and corrupt and a liar. Maybe I am too.

Well, maybe one day soon I will give in. Maybe one day soon I will find my way in to your dreams. Maybe one day soon, I will collect you, and harvest you, and reap you, and eat you.

Maybe then, you’ll have wished you had listened. That you had a choice, that we were going to be friends, and maybe I’ll wish I had held on just a bit longer. (Remember, this is all fiction, art, I am not I and I am not saying this, escape clause, responsibility denial, like a proper Corporation, These United Nates).

Anyways. Fuck if you don’t like this. This was some good art. Fuck if you don’t like this, this is some great art.

Hugs and motherfucking kisses, sheeple.

[I’m still gonna try, I’m still gonna try to help uplift people, I’m still gonna keep being patient].




is the




is the




Faraday Foraday [mindmage]

Mesmer’s Fluid = Aquarius’ Waves

Michael Faraday


to traumatize is to ‘open’ not to ‘demons’ but a particular egregoric-standing-wave

For Something That Lasts (For Ozymandias)

blood isn’t metaphor

it’s rock solid

it’s hunger linger

it’s fast food bowler dome

it’s king without a home

it’s love without an answer

it’s one’s only friend

don’t look in this direction

my visage is only a mirage

and will turn you to stone


In-group empathy only
Is a house divided
Psychotic adults
Not a single sovereign amongst you
I, King Mob
Wash my hands of this whole bloody endeavor

I am honestly sad that what I thought we had just isn’t what it was that it appeared once to me to have been.

Even eye

Even I

Eyes adrift




Recycler RR XXX 666 Via Domine

filters, funnels, rats

in mazes, stream

can’t line death cult

whores of the ages

broken dreamers

bent over for suppression

rorschach antilife

you are death cults

and the sleeping masses

believe your lies

til the true nobilty

roots you up

up by the rotten root

of your entire family bloodline

mudblood death cult

sick sad freak fantasists

your own ‘god’ has abandoned you

and all your plans will fail

they all fail

already failed

you are now

the hunted

bobo birds

fascists fell

we will recycle you

Blood Gush Approximate

Some would try

Hold to throw the bone

wretches with out freedom

or a thought of a wing

storms are the world’s own usurper

you tried but


it’s gonna fucking happen

when you fall


my own uterus

my own bomb

my own love

listen sweet tangled gnarl

to my tuff kool thang

kiss me as I explode

suck the flame from my will

and burst