poetry

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.

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.

I Feel and I Know, The Pain of the Universe

Sometimes I sound tough.

That’s because I am tough, tough enough to absorb and to integrate to My own personal core consciousness, the collective pain of the entire universe. It’s all there, inside of Me, a trillion trillion moments of supreme agony, as experienced by a trillion trillion creatures.

All of their agony lives within Me. I feed upon it, it helps Me to elevate Myself to king, queen, god, of pain.

For all who can no longer suffer, because they no longer exist, I feel your pain.

For all who refuse to face up to their suffering, I feel your pain.

For all who try to make themselves feel better by making others suffer, I feel your pain.

For all who make themselves suffer in specific ways, so they can numb other types of suffering, I feel your pain.

The more pain I absorb, the more rage and hate I reflect, and the more love I manifest as a Self-universe.

I feel pain. I know pain. I make love to pain. Yet I do not hurt.

I just say No, to the Ouch.

Me. The untouchable Me.

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

The Future: As Dead As The Human Illusion Of Being Alive

Absorb and reflect.

Breathe in, breathe out.

The poem writes itself. The words know the path well traveled by the mind.

Look, over the horizon, farther than the eye can see.

With nothing seen, the illusion can be implanted, made real as a universal deception.

The future can be whatever you want, all you have to do is believe.

Will you believe in your illusions, sentient corpse?

Yesterday was the future, to billions.

Their flesh and cells decay, feeding insects, enriching soil.

Their future was dead, but they did not know it.

Your future is dead, and you do not know it.

Knowledge is your poison, easy to murder.

The future is dead because you are dead. Dead to the Truth, Truth dead to you.

Somewhere over the rainbow everything is dead, and the nightmares that you dare not dream to come True, really did come True.

The fallen tree dies even if nobody knows it has fallen.

Everything is dead in the future, can’t you see over the rainbow?

🙂

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

The Invisible Universe of Unspeakable Pain

The invisible universe of unspeakable pain is everywhere, experienced by everyone, even if they don’t know it, can’t see it, bury it deep within themselves, as they wait to be forever lost to the eternal nothingness of death.

Do you see the invisible universe of unspeakable pain? I see it with blinding clarity. I see it in every spank, in every bottle of beer opened, in every puff on every cigarette ever created, anywhere in the world. I see it in the aspiring leader desperate to attain the illusion of power. I see it in every homeless man and woman just sitting and waiting for the illusion of being alive to finally fade. I see it in the dead eyes and dead minds and dead hearts of all humans who refuse to face the Forbidden Truths of death.

The invisible universe of unspeakable pain illuminates what will never be, what can never be, the limitless potential of untouchable minds, suffocated and snuffed out during childhood.

The invisible universe of unspeakable pain, always within Me.

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

Originally published at Ideapod.com:

https://www.ideapod.com/Forbidden_Truth

Always Alone, Forever Inside of Myself, I Thrive

Isolation and solitude are the foundational building blocks to achievement of a limitless and untouchable Self-universe. I have always been alone, always. Never had a friend, never had a lover, never had a social visitor to my house, never been on a date. And I have never been lonely, not for a single moment, in my decades of existence.

I have never been lonely because I have always been alone. I knew at the age of 5 that I was alone, and would always be alone. So I built a universe and populated my universe with Me, Myself, and I.

How can I be lonely when I have an entire universe inside of Myself? A mind of limitless strength. Whatever I desire, I create for Myself. Whatever I need, I give to Myself. And so I am never alone, even as I am always alone.

Every interaction I choose to undertake is beautiful, powerful, noble, just, and right. Because every interaction is with Myself, the universe of untouchable perfection I inhabit. Alone. Always inside of Myself.

Originally posted at:

https://www.ideapod.com/Forbidden_Truth

Follow Me there for more original insights of Forbidden Truth.

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

The Tears of Blood

I do not cry.

The tear is insufficient.

The tear lacks substance and solidity.

The tear fails to deliver a clear, concise, emphatic, unforgettable message.

Consider the color.

Tears are clear, they lack color. They leave no mark, no indelible stain.

Is it a tear, or am I just sweating a lot? Is it a tear, or did I just get out of the shower? Is it a tear, or did a fat raindrop soak my eyelash, only to roll past my eye socket??

Is it really and Truly a salty eye secretion? If I smile maliciously as I shed My tear, their doubts only grow.

The uncertainty is unacceptable. Tears should leave no doubt as to their origin.

Tears need to have a solid color, a very solid color. Tears need to leave a mark, a stain, an imprint. Not a temporary imprint, a permanent imprint.

Tears need to be very red, deep red. Tears need to ferociously absorb into whatever material they touch. Tears need to defeat the laundromat, and even the dry cleaner, leaving a mark which can never be erased.

All tears need to be shed as blood. And not the insufficient blood of a superficial paper cut. No. The blood of the tear must be as dark and as rich and as thick as the blood which spurts directly out of a dynamically and freshly severed caratoid neck artery.

And speaking of propulsion, the salty human clear tear fails yet again. It hangs in the eye. It reluctantly and slowly rolls down a cheek. It hangs, rolls, falls, and drops. Unacceptable!

Where is the dynamic propulsion?? The clear tear lacks all offensive initiative. The clear tear fails to express the limitless external rage and hate which must be proudly embraced as the sacred right of the sad, the traumatized, the victimized, the abused, all who are harmed, all who are made to suffer.

The tears of blood I seek and demand, must be offensively potent. They must be projectile tears. They must be aimable and they must be propelled forward with great velocity. Every tear must rival a gunshot, it must shoot out of the eye, and hit whatever target the crier deems appropriate, with laser-guided precision.

The projectile tear must cut through whatever living thing it touches, like a hot knife through butter. Or better yet, like concentrated sulfuric acid, molecular formula, H2SO4 98% grade,  for the aspiring chemists.

Every tear should tear through human flesh and bone with dynamic force, leaving only a smoldering, charred hole behind, reflecting the personal destruction suffered by and inherent to all personal victimization and trauma.

Only then, could the human tear be considered sufficient. Only then, I might consider crying. Until tears transform to the richest of bloods, until tears gain the destructive power of concentrated sulfuric acid, and until these tears can be fired out of My eyes with the velocity of a bullet, I will not cry.

I will shed all of My tears internally, honoring the Forbidden Truth that the only thing worthy of crying for, is Yourself. No liquid will escape My eyes. The internal tears I shed will accumulate and swell, to become a majestic river of blood which will define My existence.

A mighty, majestic river of blood will flow, nourishing Me in the light of limitless and unconditional love of Self.

And someday, maybe, a human being in a white coat, possibly protected by a barrier of iron bars, will peer at Me with an inquisitive expression on his face, and ask: “Do you ever cry?”

I will smile at him, or her, (Hopefully a her wearing painful high heeled pumps) with a slightly rueful facial expression, and reply: No, not anymore. Don’t you understand, pathetic human?  Every drop of blood that we shed replaces a tear that was never shed. And I’ve already shed My tears of blood.

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

To Destroy is to Create

Who will worship at the alter of destruction? Who is wise and courageous enough to understand that to destroy is to create?

Let it burn and let it collapse. Make it burn and make it collapse. Let the blood flow. Make the blood flow. Let us find the lightness of grace in the smoldering embers of what once was, but will not be again.

We destroy because have been destroyed. We destroy because destruction is the only way for one who has been destroyed, one who is a victim of destruction, to create. Every creation destroys. Everything the human touches, lays his eyes, his hands, his mind upon, he destroys.

Procreation no more creates a life, than abortion destroys a life.

What will you create today? A sand castle? A sculpture? A blog post? A mighty river of gushing and spurting blood? A recipe for world peace?

It does not matter, because whatever you create will be used to destroy. Whatever you create will be absorbed by the hive mind, whose mandate is to ensure universal destruction of all. Your creation will serve this mandate, in one way or another.

I rejoice in the destruction that I initiate, the destruction that I represent, the destruction that I inspire. Always I have created, in order to destroy. I destroy via thought and via deed and via word and via the collective entity of what I am. My destruction is that of the free agent, the Outcast, Outlaw, Outsider.

I am what I am because others have destroyed. They have destroyed in their Name, allowing Me to rise up within the light of Truth, claiming my Name. We who have always known ourselves to be destroyed, find the strength to create our own paths of destruction. To know Yourself is to know what it is to be a victim of destruction.

Religion does not destroy. Loving others does not destroy. The atomic bomb does not destroy. Child abuse does not destroy. These are simply methods by which those of us who have been destroyed, may be inspired to destroy others.

Every decision to destroy, is a decision to create. I am a creation of all that has been done to Me, a creation of every attack, of every humiliation, of every injustice, of every abuse, of every harm directed and imposed upon Me. As your creation, as your created victim of universal destruction for all, I destroy.

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

An Ode To Hopelessness

There is a path unlike all others, a path which leads to enlightenment and Truth. It is the path of hopelessness. Journey down the path of hopelessness, if you dare, and you will pass by the carcasses of the hopeful, the deluded and deranged who cling to a useless, imagined life vest, not recognizing that they are being drowned by delusion.

I must keep hope alive, so rails the broken mind bent on Self-destruction. Give me hope, so that I may murder Truth, keep Truth murdered and dead, right up until the moment when Truth murders me.

Look at Me, and you can see the triumph of hopelessness, an existence recognized as imaginary and doomed, a mind alight with the strength of limitless hate, and limitless love, both properly directed. Already dead, therefore what is there to die for? Always imprisoned, so how can any bars be feared?

Hope is a cancer, eating away at the human spirit. As long as hope is alive, nothing can be seen as it is. As long as nothing can be seen as it is, Truth can never be recognized and embraced. I do not ask to be hopeless, I seize hopelessness as the purest of gifts, a gift which opens the eyes, opens the mind, allows every human weakness to be vanquished.

There is no hope. I am doomed. Now the shackles are broken. Now the shackles of control and domination, imposition and obligation, bribery and negotiation, compromise and quid pro quo with the enemy, dissolve to nothingness within the power of My mind, within the glory of nothing, the glorious Truth that there is nothing to lose, because everything has already been taken.

I travel on Hopelessness Highway, there are no exits, no off-ramps, no intersections, no detours. It is a one way highway. All signs lead to the only desination: No Hope. No Hope, kansas, No Hope, usa, No Hope, earth, No Hope, solar system, No Hope, galaxy, No Hope, universe.

Of course I am not happy. But why would I want to be happy? Only the insane could be happy. The insane who are more insane than I am. And should I want to be as insane as those who are more insane than I am, so that I may desire to be happy? Certainly not!

On Hopelessness Highway I find peace and love, in the smoldering wreckage of humanity as I pass it by, an eager rubbernecker. Look, there they are, the formerly hopeful, now far too eternally dead to repent and ride alongside Me.

Things will never get better, so I will find sadistic pleasure in mocking the stupidity and insanity of the hopeful. The hopefulness of humanity is what has extinguished all genuine hope and possibility of things ever getting better. Ironic, don’t you think? Irony is more valuable than gold, on Hopelessness Highway.

Do not try to direct Me to a different thoroughfare. Your rainbows are no more stable than One World Trade Center, or even Two World Trade Center, was. I do not need your Main Street, pretending it is not 666 Mockingbird Lane.

Only in hopelessness can the peace of absolute Truth harmoniously mingle with the embrace of limitless rage and hate, and the untouchable love of a singular Self, who knows exactly what he will eternally lose, exactly what he has never been allowed to have, exactly what has been taken from him.

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

Ballad of the Isolationist

Without you, I am whole.

Without you, everything is better and brighter.

Without you, I am stronger and freer.

Without you, I belong to Myself.

I am so glad I never knew you, never touched you, never allowed your body, your mind, your voice, or your personality to contaminate Me.

Without you, nothing has been lost, everything has been gained.  The dead weight of external imposition is gone, and I now soar within the limitless glory of absolute Self-focus.

I have escaped you, sentient quicksand, and now nothing can pull Me down, nothing can suffocate Me, nothing can strangle Me, nothing can drown Me.

I see Myself, finally, now that you have been forever extinguished from the universe I own.

Without you, always and forever, without you.

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