Loading...

User blogs

Tag search results for: "art"
EpicFail TITS

A dim red light glowed softly, gently, as not to disturb the perfect darkness. An ancient silence whispered in my ear, “nihil hic vivit, neque etiam te….”
As if painted on the tail of a lost memory, the words came from within. “Nothing lives here, not even you.”

 

   I had no recollection of being elsewhere, but a faint murmur, echoed songs from another world. A dense haze blanketed the bridges connecting this realm with others.  A million miles of blackness stretched from far below me to infinity. It seemed I looked down from space at a world long forgotten, and saw a much younger me. She returned my gaze, pleading urgently for something I couldn’t recall. It occurred to me as she stared at me with hopeful eyes that she hadn’t a clue that she was wishing upon a dead star.  

A steady “thump-thump” drummed through the atmosphere. That rhythm lived here in the shadows, sleeping with its red night light. A cozy warmth enveloped me.  I thought that perhaps I might just stay here forever, in blissful nothingness.

 

An unwelcomed light appeared, making its way through the fog, relentlessly pushing itself out of the dark.  From the empty came swarms of insects, beetles perhaps.  Magnetically drawn to the fluorescent beam, the insects terminated themselves.  One by one, obliterated like fallen soldiers on enemy turf.

 

 

The light forced its way through the empty until there was only brightness.  I floated on gentle waves of sparkling, blue water.  A slight scent of salt tinged the mild breeze.  For just a moment, things were perfect.

And just before I was about to slip into dumb complacency, a glistening wall of water appeared. A Trojan horse barreled towards me at a super-sonic speed. Death wrapped in a sparkling box, with white ribbon, engulfed me. It felt like I was tumbling around in a washing machine that I couldn’t turn off.  Lost in the infinity of an abyss, the dwindling remains of my conscience short circuited.

 

            A faint “thump-thump,” rolled through a familiar void.  It appeared a living entity, who came from within me and outside me; protected me perhaps. Steadily the drumming began to crescendo. No longer could I distinguish myself as a separate being.  The tempo remained steady, while a pressure grew around me, and became progressively more intense.  The red light dwindled and merged with a new white light.


The piercing rays glowed more intensely as I made my way through the cramped tunnel. People cooed at me and made funny faces at me. I let loose a reptilian cry. Eventually I escaped into daydreams.

  A still emptiness held me, begging my attention.  And from within, a film began-    a collage of memories.  “Make it stop,” I cried into the deaf ear of infinity. 

 

Remembering my childhood, the awkward tensions of early adulthood, and finally sometime near the present. I felt violated.

 

Through a veil of condensation, an inner reflection escaped into the night.   Everything was so hazy. 

 

Nightfall lurked nearby.  Although cloaked with trees and pine needles, a surreal realm of familiarity merged with an uncertain forever.  Not so far away, an outline twisted and turned into the present.  Someone was drowning in a small body of water that was otherwise stagnant.

 

In the murky night, I saw her submerge into the water. Darkness swallowed her and she was gone.  The sobering recollection pushed its way forward; my dear little sister.


Again, I was consumed to vacancy… loneliness concealed in a dense fog. 
Sadness resonated from the mist--- a wailing wall of grief, pain and isolation

A dark figure emerged. It appeared feminine, clad in long flowing black robes and a hood that hid its face. 


 The figure spoke. Its voice confirmed that it was undeniably female.

"I've been waiting for you." She said, in a soft almost melodic voice. 
I paused, baffled.
Only a soft, “why is that?” escaped my lips.

“I've come to collect you."


An anvil of dread dropped on me.


"come. Walk with me.”

The apparition woman remained calm. “There is only one way out,” she whispered.

She motioned me to follow her into the fog.


I followed her down a windy stairwell that never seemed to end. The fog seemed to be getting even thicker. Sorrow lived here.


After decades of descending steps, we finally reached the bottom. There was nothing there--- just a door. From it, darkness tinged with a reddish glow, seeped through its cracks.

Perspiration dripped down my face. I wanted to run but there was nowhere to run. I wanted to get out of there.

I forced myself to ask, “Where does this door go?” 

“I think you know the answer to that question,” she said. 

The concept of hell had always fascinated me, although I didn’t really believe it to be real.  I assumed that the idea of a “nether world,” was a scare tactic used to hinder people from doing pleasant things.

 

I pinched myself, half-believing I’d wake up. A foul taste filled my mouth and for a moment, I thought I might vomit. 

A dull state of awareness found me in an overflowing bathtub.  Unable to move, I felt a beast known as panic pounce on my submerged head.  Little waves of thought crashed undistinguishably.  I thought to myself, “this is what it’s like. This is what it feels like to die.  Fading screams, begging me to fight for survival reverberated through semi-consciousness.

             

            Without warning, my last recollections waltzed in.  The bottle of sedatives the running bath water.  I planned this. 

 

         The bathroom fogged from the bath’s evaporation. It blurred into misty grey. Breathing proved an impossible task. My survival instincts dulled.

 

       The condensation grew thicker.  And from it, the lady in black emerged.  She took my hand in hers, almost comforting me. A dim red light glowed through the crack in the bathroom door that was no longer the bathroom door. 

 

      I turned to take one last glimpse of my lifeless body. The over flowing water sparkled deceptively. Warm water splashed in my exhausted lungs.

I turned back to the woman in black.

“Come it is time,” she said.
  and I followed her into the immense nothingness.

 

EpicFail Sep 25 '18 · Comments: 1 · Tags: art, fiction, hell, suicide, creative, writing, death, near death experience
Mauricio Gonzalez II
Hallo Every One!,


Before I explain my reasons as to why I don't show picture images my face publicly, I would like to first express my gratitude. I have been pretty active on here as much as possible ever since I first joined & must say that I quite like it here, my stay has been most enjoyable...thus I am thankful to have been "approved", A good opportunity to bring Honor to Our Benefactors by helping contribute as much as I could to our noble Satanic Struggle & providing any assistance to fellow Satanic Kindred!


Now on to my personal reasons as to why I don't put up I picture image of my face in public, one is spiritual & the other is materialistic:


>Spiritual: It is said that picture images capture part of the person's soul, they catch "The Spirit Of The Moment" (art drawings are similar too) & thus the most recent picture image is by far the most accurate "sight" of an attacker who holds some thing against the person in question. So I choose not to put up A public picture image of my self because there are spells & rituals out there that involves using picture images or art depictions, potential enemies (specifically from "The Right-Hand Path") would try to do harm up on either me or my family due to my *Satanic* (Anti-Christ/Al-Daijal) nature.


>Materialistic: Now this is obvious & pretty much common sense....I have the intent to be more politically involved & start putting in my political bid by the next decade, thus I do not desire my enemies to twist the meaning of my words against me in an effort to make sure that I don't succeed. Now don't get me wrong, I shall still wear my "Satanic Pride" as I run for office in the future & hold true to our faith...just don't desire past words or my ideas to be used as ammunition for slanderous propaganda against me!



So there you have it!, two reasons why I don't show picture images of my face out in public. Perhaps I may show to A few people who I feel comfortable enough with in the mean time, but then shall reveal my self more after I win the election in the next decade & thus I say unto my fellow Satanic Kindred...the one who wears the PeaCock feather & Totenköph is your best friend, my close allies know what the *hints are! ;).


¡¡¡¡¡¡HÆIL THE FOUR CROWN PRINCES OF PANDÆMONIUM!!!!!!

   -Sincerely,

      ~MG2 [s.s.s.] 3:).

SamaelSwine
When I broke screaming and slime covered from my mother's body I was given the objective, limited, law governed world. As I grew and my senses matured was given art. Art is a tool to reshape the world. 


It is ironic that so much art is about pathos, heartache, and overall tension and conflict, when it could be about happiness and wonder. But that doesn't tickle my brain in the appropriate way that feels like reality has shifted beneath me. Whether it is music, poetry, film, music, or visual art, I need blood pressure raising drama. I don't want to see or experience faithful representations of life. If I wanted that, I would go outside. 


Consuming art is an easy way of changing my world, of altering the fundamental fabric of reality. Reality is subjective after all, and so is art. When I consume art I take part in the artists creation; with that artist I create a new world that only exists in the liminal space between My mind and the artists mind and is mediated by the piece of art in question. And each time I do so, a unique world is created will exist in only one place and one time.


With the arrogance that only a magician can have I look at the universe and think, "I can do better." Each time I engage in the creative process, I take a hammer to the limited reality that I was born into, and shape something in my own image with the leftover shards.

SamaelSwine Nov 14 '16 · Tags: art
Anna


So more bullshit from Facebook. The latest news from the official Church of Satan page made me lolololololol. Some gallery owner was temporarily suspended from Facebook for posting William Mortensen art, including the pictures of the nudes, which the Facebook team considered indecent and diligently removed them from the guy’s page. There would be nothing extraordinary in it as the Facebook moderation policy is rather shitty if it wasn’t for the guy’s reaction.


The incident has been covered on Disinfo, Lexicon Magazine, Church of Satan News Page and the official Facebook pages. Surely, having your stuff removed from Facebook and being banned for a week is such an important event in your life that one at least should dedicate an article and an interview to that. So here there comes the freaking comedy:


Satan, Totalitarianism in America, and how an Art Gallery got Banned from Facebook.


The article begins with stating the relevant Facebook Terms of Service:


“We remove photographs of people displaying genitals or focusing in on fully exposed buttocks. We also restrict some images of female breasts if they include the nipple…


Lol, do the table and piano legs have to be covered too? Moving on…


…but we always allow photos of women actively engaged in breastfeeding or showing breasts with post-mastectomy scarring. We also allow photographs of paintings, sculptures, and other art that depicts nude figures.”


It seems Facebook team of dumbasses doesn’t know what qualifies as art. It’s not the first time the gallerist is banned from Facebook and his Mortensen pictures removed. I only wonder why he keeps posting that stuff over and over again knowing that it will be removed. However, it’s more interesting what he goes on to say in the interview:


It’s completely totalitarian in my view.  How crazy that a corporation sets the moral standard and acts as judge and jury and executioner, this is not in the interest of it’s users.  This is the part that really bothers me, the implications of  handing over what is in it’s spirit and essence a right  protected and guaranteed as constitutional Amendment to Facebook via a user agreement…


He’s referring to the Sixth Amendment of the Constitution of the United States. Which reads:


In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the state and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the assistance of counsel for his defense.


I laughed my ass off. Of course, every Facebook denizen has a right to a public and fairly objective trial before being banned. I only wonder who should serve as the jury? Moderators? Facebook denizens? Who should be the judge? Zuckerberg himself?


So, what i am annoyed with, and question highly is where does Facebook get it’s sense of self entitlement, to the extent that it can conduct it’s operations in contradiction to a constitutional amendment?  Does it think it’s user base is SO DEPENDED UPON IT THAT IT WILL GIVE UP CONSTITUTION RIGHTS TO STAY WITHIN THE SOCIAL NETWORK?


So… Banned from Facebook? Here is a simple solution to your problem, people:


Sue the motherfuckers!


They have no right to restrict your freedom of speech, which is guaranteed by the Constitution. Posting the pictures of bare buttocks wherever and whenever you want is your basic human right, which you should defend till you drop dead. If Facebook doesn’t want to give you a fair trial, go to the court of law, hire a lawyer no matter the price and fight for your freedom. Don’t give up cuz the State is on your side, taking care to enhance your civil liberties especially now that the Islamic terrorist bastards are threatening our beloved democracy.


Anna Jan 21 '16 · Rate: 1 · Comments: 1 · Tags: art, facebook, humor, law, satanism, censorship, constitution

Like and Share

Certain features and pages can only be viewed by registered users.

Join Now

Donate

This site is largely funded by donations. You can show your support by donating. Thanks. Every dollar helps.