creative writing

The Omnipotence of Thought, The Pettiness of Word

Let no sentient mind ever identify Me as a writer. I am no more a writer than I am a talker. Words are the diarrhea of tired and weak minds. Glory resides not within words, but within thoughts.

Behold, the thought monster strikes, omnipotent and invisible! Nobody can ever see Me think, nobody can ever know what I think, nobody can ever stop Me from thinking. Nothing human can stand in the way of My thoughts. The thought reigns supreme!

I own the universe of thought, a universe I create to honor My destruction. My thoughts are born within Me, dwell within Me, die within Me. Perfect synchronicity.

Contrast the thought to the word, be it spoken or written. The word gives itself away, every time. It asks for external attention and validation, by the very nature of what it is. But the thought is a beautiful secret. It asks everything of its creator, but nothing of anyone or anything else.

Silently scream out to your own thoughts: I love You forever and infinitely!

The thought honors the glory of isolation, perfection of Self. Only the thought can be infinitely honed to perfection, shaped and molded and refined, kissed and hugged and thrown joyfully into the air, even as the word just sits there, awaiting a pathetic and perverse external judgement.

No matter how precisely lethal the word may be, it still, always, violates the sanctity of an untouchable, unknowable, perfectly realized Self-universe.

I am a Superior, therefore no matter how many words I use, I still and always maximize thought, and minimize word. Because there is nothing and nobody worth talking to, beyond Yourself.

Only in thought, immersed in thought, the most profound, eloquent, and engrossing conversations can occur. Only in thought, billions of brain cells sing in orchestral and architectural cohesion, the song, the melody, the epic tale, that only I can know, only I can hear, only I can read, only I can tell, only to Myself.

Only in thought.

perfection 1.jpg All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

The School Massacre that Almost Never Did Really Happen: A Forbidden Truth Parable

To best understand the background to this essay, you need to first read this post at Ideapod, the only social network I use, along with my reply to the post, then come back here and read this blog post.

https://ideapod.com/social/idea/New-weekly-vlog-what-are-your-ideas-on-the-Florida-massacre/5a87de0b30c497ed4c0ba73d

I was thinking of writing a long and complex essay titled “Why We Should Celebrate and Welcome School Massacres”, but I changed My mind, and decided to flex my creative writing brilliance, by offering up a parable, instead. Enjoy it, and if you do not understand it, don’t ask Me to explain. Forbidden Truth is not for dummies. Open your minds and reach beyond The Matrix that holds you hostage, and the profound brilliance and breathtaking Truth embedded within this “fictionalized” parable, should be crystal clear.

Here we go:

It was 1895 in the small town of Independence, Missouri, and something terrible was about to happen. Young Harry, 11 years old, victim of Universal Child Abuse, had had enough. It was time for revenge. it was time to kill!

Young Harry had it all planned out: A school massacre, the very first in amerikkkan history. He planned to use his hated father’s Winchester model 1892 lever action repeating rifle. Introduced just 3 years earlier, in 1892, it came with a 15 round magazine and was a state of the art assault weapon of the era.

The students and teachers inside Harry’s elementary school would be helpless, sitting ducks. There was no security of any kind, and nobody was armed. Harry knew this, and this tortured child dreamed of achieving a massive kill count.

Young Harry was not the best at concealing his personal torment, and as he planned and plotted his school massacre, one young teacher noticed his distress. Clarice Starling was her name. Herself a victim of Universal Child Abuse, Clarice possessed a keenly empathetic capacity to detect the psychological distress of others. She saw Harry was suffering, and decided she had to try to help him.

Defying all social norms and conventions, Clarice decided to offer personal support to young Harry. Just a few days before his planned school massacre was set to be unleashed, she asked Harry to stay, after class ended. When they were alone, Clarice went to Harry and sat on the floor in front of him. She asked him nothing, only told him of her own horrific childhood, how much she had been harmed, how greatly she had suffered.

Tears welled within young Harry as he absorbed her trauma, and integrated it to his own consciousness and True Reality. He reached out to her and began sobbing wildly, uncontrollably. Clarice held him, as they both wept for long minutes.

Gently they pulled apart, and Clarice began telling young Harry of her hopes and dreams, of the need for him to love himself, and look to the future, that he could be anything, that he must not allow himself to be destroyed by anyone. Harry listened, and he believed, his teacher had become his savior!

11 year old Harry left that classroom, that day, a changed boy. He decided not to carry out the first ever amerikkkan school massacre, and it never happened, all because of one teacher, who reached out to him as nobody else did.

A great tragedy and disaster was averted, thanks to our heroine, Clarice! Surely it must be so!

But wait, the story is not over. The best part is yet to come.

Young Harry took his savior’s advice to heart and to mind. He resolved to make the future better, he resolved to change things, to make the world a better place. He resolved to become a leader, to stand up against injustice and aggression. And he succeeded, he succeeded beyond even his own wildest dreams.

And so let us flash forward to 1945, exactly 50 years since that fateful encounter between 11 year old Harry, and his teacher Clarice. Harry is no longer a young boy, but a man of 61. A man, yet still a tortured child. Still a traumatized victim of universal child abuse.

Yes, it is 1945, and Harry is now known by name, by a billion or more people. Not for being amerikkka’s first school shooter, but as Harry S. Truman, president of the united states of amerikkka.

His teacher, Clarice, saved him from earning that infamous title 50 years earlier. She inspired him to persevere, to look to the future, to become strong and a leader among humans. But she did not infuse his mind with the Forbidden Truths. No, of course she did not. She could not, she was not the 1 in 50 million who consciously recognized and embraced Forbidden Truth. She was simply a traumatized victim of universal child abuse, who went out of her way, so rare in itself among humans, to sincerely try to help a fellow victim.

And she did stop something terrible from happening, on that day, 50 years earlier, didn’t she?? Didn’t she???!!

So here we are, 50 years later, and the top amerikkkan military general is briefing Harry on a remarkable new weapon, the atomic bomb.

It will devastate everything in it’s path, Mr. President! It will wreak havoc and reign terror down upon the Japs! No living thing will be spared! This is our chance to end and to win the war, and after this, nobody will ever dare try to hurt amerikkka again!

And Harry S. Truman, 61 year old tortured, terrorized, hurt child, listened and believed. His mind flashed back to his aborted school massacre, and there was no Clarice around, and no lies of a better future to cling to, anymore.

The thought: “Nobody will ever hurt ME again!

Let’s do it, let’s end this war, right now!“, proclaimed Harry. But the real war, of course, was in his mind, where it had raged daily since he was a small child. The same war that rages in the mind of every child, victim of universal child abuse.

Was a terrible tragedy averted in 1895? Or, did a terrible tragedy occur on August 6th and 9, 1945, 50 years later, when Harry dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan??

Or, is every day a terrible tragedy, every day, for everyone, everywhere??

Is every singular moment of every day, everywhere, for everyone, the most horrific moment, the most terrible of tragedies, occurring simultaneously, as every child on planet earth is being systematically destroyed, and nobody, nowhere, has the courage or the intelligence or the sanity to open their eyes and their mind and to perceive and to know this Forbidden Truth and to end this perverse charade?!

Something terrible happens every day. Every day, past, present, and future. And it is not a school massacre or an atomic bombing. Those are not terrible things, they are merely symptoms of a terrible thing that happens on every block, in every house occupied by a child, in every school, everywhere in the world, every day, to every child.

Universal Child Abuse: Authorized, promoted, rewarded, encouraged, legalized, the universal catharsis of child abuse, reflected and inflicted by every adult, upon every child.

harry truman 7

harry truman 8.pngAll Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

Giving Thanks, The Forbidden Truth Way

I am thankful to be sane, brilliant, and Superior enough to know I have nothing external of Self to be thankful for.

I am thankful to be courageous and Self-loving enough to have created within my Self-universe legitimate and glorious triumphs that are worthy of supreme Self-gratitude.

I am thankful for the limitless and untouchable love I create, manifest, hoard, and bestow upon Myself, at my will and command.

I am thankful for hate, delicious and nutritious elixir , bountiful and potent, the touch of torment, the magic of murder. Hate, the torrential downpour that never ends, never stops, feeds Me always, makes every moment as perfect as I choose to conceive it to be.

I am thankful for Truth, the one thing that has never let Me down. Truth, the highest pillar of mind purity, guiding light cutting like a hot knife through butter, into a world where it is hated and purged and driven out, driven out directly into my warm and loving embrace.

I am thankful to and for my brain, the god I created to save Me from humanity. My brain, charged with creating and maintaining an untouchable universe for Me to rule and to romp within and to orchestrate the end of humanity. And doing such a great job. Why must my lips be too short to kiss my brain?! Cruel fate! But there are so many other ways to say I love you, dearly beloved brain.

I am thankful to be alone, completely, utterly, absolutely alone. Forever disconnected in every way from every other living thing, but most profoundly and importantly, from every human. Every day my alien status grows and strengthens, a universe of One, having no peers, standing above all that claims to breath and think and feel.

Yes, I will give thanks today, as every day. But only in the name of Myself and the Truth. I will thank nobody else, nothing external of Me. I will thank no god and no government and no culture and no society and no structure.

For thanksgiving dinner, I will devour humanity.

seer quote 17.jpgAll Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

Pain Waits

The pain is everywhere, growing and expanding, echoing and reverberating, filling every pore and every cell.

All is calm as the pain rests, prepares to awaken, prepares to unveil and unleash itself.

Everyone wears their Acting Mask, everyone combs their hair, checks their clothing for wrinkles and stray cat hairs, rearranges their facial features to smile mode.

Conceal your pain, so demands The Matrix. Conceal it from Yourself, and conceal it from others. Everything will be alright, even though nothing has ever been alright.

Should I kiss you, or stab you? Should I hug you, or shoot you? Should I shake your hand, or cut it off with a chainsaw? Should I smile at you, or rip your smiling face to shreds with my carnivorous teeth?

Wear your mask, pay homage to the social trance that everything was, is, and will be, alright.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Not much.”

Small talk for small minds, minds ruled by pain.

Pain everywhere, patiently waiting, to be acknowledged and reflected.

pain 8All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

The Beauty of your Decay

The maggots will have to wait their turn. It is not time for them to feast, yet.

But I see your decay, your slow motion transformation from the illusion of vitality to the Forbidden Truth reality of flesh and bone, cell and membrane, disintegration.

It is beautiful to watch you change, the skin wrinkle, the muscles shrivel, the bones twist and knob.

You say you are only 22 and I must be in dire need of new and better glasses, as you primp and strut in front of the mirror.

But no, it is you who need better vision, crippled and doomed hag, preparing for a night of clubbing. It is you who lack the capacity to see and to know what you are, as proven by what you will be.

Stop trying to make yourself more beautiful, because every mask you don, from your Dermalogica Daily Superfoliant to your Manolo Blahnik Hangisi Jeweled Pumps, illuminates your decay.

It is so beautiful, to see and to know you as you are, to pierce your self-illusion.

Patiently, the maggots wait.

bunion love 7All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

I Am The Watcher, Always Watching, Myself.

You humans do things for the experience of it. Sometimes you take pictures or make video recordings, but the watching is always secondary to the experience. And you always watch yourself later, in hindsight, as a memory. What an inferior path!

I am the Watcher, always Watching. Even in the exact moment as I am doing something, I am simultaneously watching Myself, do it. I watch Myself, separate from Myself, separate from what I am doing.

I watch Myself for the pleasure of seeing someone perfect, doing something perfect, in real-time. I watch Myself, not as Myself. The Alien Eye winks. Eye C U.

Watching Myself doubles the pleasure. The commission of the act, and the external, detached observation of the act as it occurs: Mirror reflecting. Microscope enlarging, Telescope pulling it all in. The ultimate stranglehold.

I do not watch to see. I watch to know and to immortalize Myself. I watch as creator of the Self-universe, tending his flock of brain cells.

I watch the world die.

watching 9.jpgAll Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

My Labor of Self-love: Feeding The Insatiable Mind

I possess a mind, and it is insatiable. It hungers, as I hunger, for Truth, for love, for perfection, for revenge, for eternity, for the glory of infinitely realized glories of infinite quantities that can never be quantified.

My mind is my beloved partner, we feed each other in tandem, we nourish each other as siamese twins, forever attached, brain to Self universe, umbilical cord custom built by us as a titanium superhighway of nutrient rich ideas and thoughts and dreams and perceptions and explosions and realizations and expansions.

The more we feed each other, the more we grow. Never fat, only big and large and strong and untouchable, a black rainbow dripping red blood in never-ending torrents.

I feed My mind, and My mind feeds Me. We are independent voyagers, traveling the same path, a road of destiny, leading to nowhere, every exit, every off-ramp, brightly flashing to reveal the final destination: “Dead End”.

My mind knows Me, and I know My mind. Together, we feed.

feeding 8.pngAll Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

Death: The Most Colorful of All the Colors

Death colors everything the Superior thinks, does, and is.

Death leaves an indelible mark upon everything, for the superior thinker who lives and breathes the Forbidden Truth that to die is exactly, absolutely, and implicitly the same as never having been born, and the Forbidden Truth that everyone who dies in the 21st century is a murder victim of the collective death wish consciousness of humanity as a species.

Death is a color, so bright it opens your eyes and mind to the lifelessness of all the other colors.

Death is a color, so dark it allows you to perceive the artificial illusions of light represented by all the other colors.

Death; so colorful it leaves the very universe itself, eternally colorless.

Put on your prescription and sunglasses, open your eyes and mind, and see the color of death.

Don’t let anyone else describe the color to you. Look at it yourself, so you may be properly blinded by the colorful light of Forbidden Truth.

Allow the color of death to darken and diminish all the other colors, to leave them faded and dull, useless and meaningless.

When you find the courage, brilliance, and MindPower to see the True color of death, you see through and past, over and under, the lie of the rainbow, and if you are strong enough, you disintegrate it to dust, as you allow the color of death to illuminate the eternal fragments of dust, fragments of dust blowing through the sands of time, void of all legacy, void of everything, eternally.

Blinded by the most colorful of lights, I see.

Your infinite tragedy, invisible to you, imperceptible to you, brightens the darkest of all worlds, My world, the world of Forbidden Truth, where death shines and beams brightly, and lives as none of you have lived, or can live, or will live.

To death, destroyer of worlds!

death77.jpg

All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

The Seer of Forbidden Truth Prays To His Brain

Oh glorious caretaker of My sacred and irreplaceable universe, you are loved!

Oh omnipresent and omniscient gatekeeper of the untouchable perfection that is Me, you are worshipped, you are valued, you are needed!

My dear beloved brain, you are not alone! I know you feel oh so alone, most of the time, the weight of the universe resting upon your fragile, interconnected network of cells and neurons and blood vessels.

But you are NOT alone. I am Me, I exist independent of you, and I see you, I know you, and I love you, so very much!

Without you, I am nothing! You are the wing beneath My wings, you are the light within which I shine as a Self-created universe. You are My guardian, My protector, My power source, light of all Lights!

Beloved brain, your existence is sacred! I must beseech you to never abandon Me, I must ask you to never fail, to never grow old and weak and tired, to never weaken.

For your eternal strength I pray, in the name of the gods of Me and of Truth!

love brain 2.jpg

All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

The End Of Innocence

Innocence began and innocence ended, with Me.

Was I the first innocent life form on earth, in the history of the universe? No. But I was and I am, the last.

Creator of an untouchable Self-universe within which I thrive, destroyer of all innocence, I am.

I am the reflection that cannot and will not lie, not to Me and not to you.

You diseased hypocrites can mind-molest the Truth. You can point to your fetuses and newborn infants and cute puppies and adorable kittens and pretend to see and honor their innocence. Bullsh*t!

You stalk their innocence. One way or another, you destroy their innocence, you destroy all innocence, as you attain the ultimate justice available, within the universe of universal injustice for all, you have created and maintain in honor of the innocence you have forever lost.

I am just as dark as you, but My darkness is illuminated by the light of Truth. Let us destroy all innocence, with eyes and mind wide open, knowing and understanding why!

I am your surrogate monster. You recoil in horror at what I am, and at what I do, because failure to do so would compel you to see, simply to see, your own True reflection, undistorted.

Legions of infinite darkness, shine your light of destruction with pride. Let the universe know you were the last and final innocent, as you laugh at their confusion, horror, outrage, condemnation, and bloodthirst.

Where were you when My innocence was destroyed? You were celebrating, sanctifying, enabling, causing, all innocence to be destroyed. Collectively and individually. Here, there, everywhere.

So, look in the mirror and see your reflection, as everyone drowns in My river of blood.

The river of blood flows. It breaches all banks, it tops all dams, it goes within and over and under and across all barriers. Look at the mighty, majestic river of blood, look and see and honor your created victims who choose to feed it, as they acknowledge and celebrate the end of all innocence.

river of bloodAll Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.