Occult Fan

Master no Self

The Challenge to the Status Quo (Space and God) A Vague Idea of Heaven

Let me make my self clear.

I do not think the world is round.

I do not think the world is flat.

I do not think there is a yes/no other. That is there is ONLY other, there is ONLY yes/no.

Use ya FUCKIN CORPUS CALLOSUM

(both hemispheres must communicate male needs female to make an eight)

(sperm needs egg to make ya fate/face – no fakes)

and the rabbit in the moon with his immortal and pestle

ain’t landin’ there, but you think you fuckin’ know

at some level you’re conscious

but you are living in the dream

waiting for CERN to collapse the screen

bridge bridge bridge bridge

the gap, mind the gap

dumbasses

think we went to the moon

we landed on yesod

dumbbbb

this is a manifestation reality

we are hard therefore the earth is hard

it is as we is

dig

this

shit

now

you can’t land on a luminary

nukes seem real

they really do, plenty

so I won’t won’t won’t won’t say no

but as far as the moon

like antarctica it’s one place we can’t go

go go go go go your self

go at it

get that goat

get that go at

with this half-form’d language

Merkan

English

Englundish

maybe – the – rune – which – English – is – made – from

Dugpa Donuts

Keeps the fearful runnin

shit fuck cock suck brain dead affinity malady

struck by the pavlov ringing in your reality

broke your concentration

you think you know who you are

the moon cannot be landed on

under the masonic moon music video

shows this very tried and true

but don’t blame the masons

the red nor the blue

blame your self

for being you

I am One

I was deeply abused

I am hyper-intelligent

This

Should be interesting

Interesting

beating at your door at midnight

rain of ever pouring down

the sun will hide from us

until you do let me in

sweetness in your heart

finally you can see

just what it is to be me

I am the only one

left who can control

this self of mine

sweet you are to arouse your eros

towards my own prosaic museum of dreams

or was it the mausoleum echoing screams

those bodies ringing bells

still fresh and kicking

waiting for hungry new flesh to feed them

I am one

he is one

she is one

I am one

but never alone

for the trees

are a forest

and you are with me

I, Saviourre

All hail the SatanChrist

for I have found You

in my heart

ripped gaze past the veil

the piecemeal sensory

quarks for disturbing the microtubules

a canon of myst and mystery

I have no fear

this ego is nonexistent

no water for the drought in the desert

hold my hand that holds your heart and heal thy hatred

I physician

I monster

I cavalier

I saviourre

“…And Now For The Doctor”

https://occultfan.bandcamp.com/track/and-now-for-the-doctor

This is a song I made – one of my earliest recordings, way back in the summer of ten years ago oh-six.

The pure angelicbeastialcarnation of it really sets a high example of how channeled and mightily massacaringly mutilatingly mellifluous my music

IS.

So do yourself a favor

listen to it

now and

forevermore.

 

xoxo

Learning To Recognize My Value (Screaming at the Gates of Hell)

bathe bathe bathe bathe me in your gore

trust fall in to the shadows and swim in the fear

taste the blood dripping from my wings

demons angels deaths scythe Christ’s cry of WHY HAST THOU AFBOARNSDAOKNEEND ME?!?!

cenobite ambassadors hold the doors open for your wyrd

I watch as a taoist neutral imperative sweetly stroking gargoyle fins

the nadar is a negative opposite by definition

bildungsromantic chafing scraping craving at the gates howling like hellwinds

the false lion of anti-messiah fricassee

I like my liver with fava beans and a nice chianti

a penny is dreadful to find covering your eyes

you’d think a quena such as yerself would have baubles rather than copperspies

but that’s just the thing about the time and life

it’s all bound to the moribund tacit accomplice of night

Filter My Blood So I Won’t Have To Drink The Young

My new prieuré de sion

partners made of art and crime

filk the wrought upon the martian

crush the heart upon the vine

all abortion is true murder

so you will suffer for your life

or the one you stole from heaven

haunted by the wrath of wights

all your children that you murdered

cast your seed tween sticks and stones

words are the only thing trueholy

and the only thing

that came send you home

Heroes – But Not Just For One Day

It only makes sense

that the child should love the MotherFather

that the weak should love

the omnipotent strong

not a victim unto abuser

but a student unto a teacher

like I love GW, or JEB/S.

like I love the beauty of The Holy Gift

even though Occult Fan s/t is on par

well, who am I kissing/kidding?

Like a macaroni painting compared to the sistine chapel

just in reverse

and still

like a child, a boy, this SeeD

holds the potential to grow equal to or surpass

the loves he loves to love

those who help him grow

 

Thank you to all my teachers

You are My heroes.

Waking Anchors with Hyper+Electric Similitude

If I feel like putting a gun in your mouth

then I feel like putting a gun in your mouth

don’t fret precious

just go back to sleep

where you’re safe from

 

a plague upon your houses

your hissing

and your hatred

 

I am Justice

 

I am no-thing

 

I am the tao

 

I am the winterspringsummerautumn

 

I am the death the sustenance the salvation

 

the cycle

 

the continuity

 

the breath

of freedom

 

I am sovereignty

 

I am the ruler

 

I am the rule

 

I am the leyline’s manifest

 

I am the King

 

I don’t tell you

 

you are now known

 

you are to this truth

 

as you were to be your self

this morning

 

it is not me

 

it is all you

 

I am your king

 

so mote it be

 

through

and

through

 

this

is

 

now.

The River Flows Through Me

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Mister Master

What’s the matter

Mister Master

what are ya?.. the son

of a bitch and a bastard?

can’t summon the muster to rally the courage to face the trivial travails of this existence?

can’t even tie your shoes without praying it’s a noose

what a sad state

of affairs

the beginning of a poem

already ended

no one read it

never mended

nor minded

the gap between one human

being

and another

spiritual soulflux in the throes

of this incarnation

this incarceration

meat flavored pesticide

stolen from the breast of the crib

the best of the crab

jupiter in cancer can get

to be heavy on the spine

and even worse in

the chest

a treasure unopened

a poem

unread

what’s that Matter Mister Master?

can’t you even

keep

a friend?

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