Fear is the Weakness · In Flames Sounds Of A Playground Fading ℗ Nuclear Blast Released on: 2011-06-15

Fear is the weakness in all of us
It’s sad to see you go
It’s not meant to be easy but you drag us down
Burden of the evidence grows

The same road for far too long
It’s not meant to be
We’re losing identity
Faith has been denied, let’s not pretend
This is the first time we just don’t belong

What world do you perceive?
All turn cold and no one cares for anyone
Waiting for the final blow
Do you have strength at all?
One more day, then we fade away

Fear is the weakness in all of us
It’s sad to see you go
It’s not meant to be easy but you drag us down
Burden of the evidence grows

Blood red

all opposed shadows now seemingly rest

on the eve of the biggest test

loving mother has no life in her full, milky breast

cold-hearted figures, playing an immortal game of chess

gatherings of opaque, undeserving meddling heads

an uncommon sight, even for the forever voiceless dead

ungodly phantasy rest in their already emptied chests

they already have lost the favor, the priceless bet

Celestial duty,

a tour of immaculate stardom, enthralled in her indescribable beauty

captured in her sovereign moonlight,

storyteller of eternal wrong and right

elusive celestial armor

given with no promise, no hidden squalor

no voidless, mortal, capitulating parlor

in the bowels of gloomy hell

cracks are hidden,franticly well

no new tales, nobody has any wishes to tell

vile sulfur has no odor, it has no blaming smell

Beauty aroused in the heart of the green sea shell

an old man battling his phantoms in his crumbling chair

all plagiarized roads reek of unsatisfied despair

high treason is begging for more fruitless air

what this dark inconvenience would give for another good year

Truth or dare,

stoic valiancy or stolen a frantic little scare

demons of old…are you not willing to share?

heavy curtains fall on your fraudulent despair

barren replicants dont care,

rusted, leprechauns give only a small-minded fare

an undistinguished, funeral yell

dark, unnamed fatigue from hell

Holly Valley derived from broken dreams, Atlantian, lazy astral paradise

rigged swamp of infinite, swift merciless sunrise

unkind rumors pushed around, twice

perfect child, given away to a drunken mother, with no fair price

Eternal luminescence, play nice

where are the fields of golden, unspoiled rice?

Dark Rider is still chasing his, given, polarizing advice

A white silhouette prays in the middle of this estranged paradise

surrounded by white, most purest doves

a myriad of good things is raining from, aboves

cryptic, hushed-down blabbering tongues

puzzling riddle of all forbidden, earthly loves

where this worshiped white veil goes

why all brilliant white,

sentient clouds are walking on their tiptoes

No answer

nobody knows

all that is left

are the simplest

little vows

still, the will, wild wind carelessly blows

like a free robber, he is whispering

‘Reap What You Sow’

You are voidless/voiceless

and, now…

now, you

know.

Alternative ending…

Soon we will see if the numb scarecrow

can survive the upcoming shit show.

can primal darkness in the darkest dark

truly start to glow,

is all this

just a fruitless

and headless

chicken show?

O damned, would

you,

would, you

like to be in the know.

Old Story, Old Car, New Road, and a New Man

Sometimes, a story doesn’t have a proper beginning; sometimes, a particular story is worse than a winding, drunken, illegible, undiscovered road.

The clouds are predictably and prescribedly gloomy, the main character of the story has long been draped in black, racing into the unknown or fleeing from his complex past.

Friendly faces slowly fade, residing somewhere in a part of the mind that no longer wishes to remember what once was.

The future merges with the quiet road leading to countless new directions, and each direction is a new exhilarating stimulus, a new excitement, a new promise of happiness, or a new door to cursed tragedy.

All that is heard is the wail of the hot, fiery engine, which wildly, almost in a trance, gulps the cold air set before it, then forcefully digests it and leaves it behind to reunite with the pitch-black tapestry of the remaining night air, transforming it back into what it was a few moments before it was swallowed by the hungry, fiery beast driven by our silent night traveler.

The sky, flooded with a sea of shining stars, quietly tells its long-chosen story above his contemplative head, and under their white, crystalline glow, the black car silently speeds towards a new adventure.

A new life, a victory, a betrayal, a defeat, an enlightenment… anything, as long as it’s different from what has already been left behind hundreds of kilometers ago, like an unhappy child abandoned by a selfish father behind our enigmatic but determined hero.

Life has always been an irreconcilable struggle; every moment of its existence, from its sudden birth to this cold, dark night, has been filled with some mischief or an informal excursion into the arms of unspoken tragedy.

After traversing a hundred or so kilometers, mostly monotonous but at the same time loaded with a new smoldering thrill, the loud engine wailed like a faltering horse, and the monstrous machine quickly and silently lost its recognizable tone.

The wild rush through the dark expanse turned into an unplanned, almost silent standstill.

The gleaming herd of stars instantly lost its color, darkness… total, indescribable darkness surrounded the warm, unconquered heart of our hero.

It was as if the dark jaws swallowed every beam of light that defied the cold teeth of the yet unsung dark, but so far exceedingly pleasant and promising night.

The scent of a new, irresistible adventure deftly wriggled under the cloak of black chaos, which for a moment seemed to become a skillfully trained hunter, and our protagonist a bewildered prey.

Finally, a thousand carefully chosen possibilities fused into one selected manifestation, presenting itself as a seemingly dark solution or potential fate at first glance.

For a moment, the stars, celestial birds, flickered briefly, then darkness crept back around him.

Again, the stars flickered, and once more the light plunged into the dark abyss, and the sequence repeated itself…

The phenomenon could be compared to Morse code, but it was a completely different experience, almost from another world.

Darkness usually symbolizes something bad to the human mind and consciousness, something that predicts inevitable uncertainty and an imminent struggle for survival… but this was something new.

Maybe our hero had finally arrived exactly where he was headed, albeit reluctantly with a few curses, unknowingly unable to admit this fact to himself yet… maybe here, in this mysterious, unremarkable place, on this cold night, he had finally found what he had been yearning for all these long years.

The explanation to an old question, an ancient mystery that had troubled humanity since the first primordial light.

Why and to what end is all this, where does all this lead, the good and the bad… why does this world change so slowly, why do all roads too often lead to one dusty, unremarkable dark vista?

The sequence, the flicker of the stars and their intensity, slowly intensified, and then the experience that broke free from this surreal reality resembled those few brief, energetically charged moments after the main performer of a concert or theatrical performance finally crystallizes on a fully illuminated stage.

Everything that was left far behind him, good, bad, happiness, sadness, love, the first romantic ordeal, no longer mattered, everything faded before the breath of this orgasmic, cosmic magic, this unexpected nocturnal spectacle… which was just beginning.

The road on the old path began to pulse gently, the black, well-trodden asphalt subtly transformed into a transparent, faintly lit material, our mysterious traveler could see the outline of a prominent face in it.

“Aren’t you afraid?” A gentle voice sounded almost from nowhere, and its existence was almost impossible to determine… as if it came from all sides and was multiplied several times over.

“No, should I be?”

“Your road has come to an end.” Again, the charming voice gently addressed our mysterious traveler, who, for some very unusual reason, was not at all shaken by what was happening before his impeccably blue, sometimes hypnotically green, honest eyes.

“I’ve been looking for this road for a long time, it’s time we met, it was my destiny as well as yours,” lighting a cigarette, our hero replied nonchalantly to the entity whose voice assaulted our hero’s senses from all sides.

“True, I agree, and now that we have finally met, what is your decision… do you stay or do you go, are you ready, have you had enough of this existence, these earthly trials?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure yet, but you already know that, you see every path I take, you follow my every move, but still you don’t see everything, you don’t see what has always been only mine… my heart.”

Suddenly, almost benignly, the surrounding light turned into a threatening red color…

“Are you threatening me, defying me?”

“Always, you can’t possess what is only mine, and you have your limits, which you very skillfully conceal.”

“This is the only way to find my road, the only possible way to forget you.”

“Isn’t this here, this creation, this life enough, why do you always want more?”

“Why does every new revelation trigger and set off an avalanche of a thousand new, bolder questions?”

Now the defiant red eminence changed tone, as if questioning the reasons for the traveler’s existence… why would anyone, any being, ever want to leave the warm embrace of this almost perfect creation?

“The stars shine today just for you, isn’t that celestial wonder, that heavenly orchestra, enough to fill your wandering heart, to calm it at least for a moment…”

“It’s beautiful, and I am grateful to you for this gift, but I have to tell you, my road doesn’t end here, I have just begun the journey, nothing given by this world awakens any impression in me or longing for a new adventure… I set out into the mystery of the unknown and found the known.”

“The road may be as old as this unremarkable vehicle behind me, but I am a new man, no longer impressed by what maliciously yawns behind your elusive curtain.”

“This time, I choose the road!”

“So be it!”

The pitch-black cold night turned in an instant into the piercing light of a bright new day, a few meters down the road a red telephone stood alone on the old, now different road, beckoning our mysterious traveler to enter its crimson chambers and pick up the red receiver.

When he came closer to that old, now archaic apparatus, the lonely apparatus awakened and the phone rang…

The dilemma remained, to pick up the screaming red receiver or not….

To leave his vehicle, which was now brand new, standing there in the middle of this road or to dive further into the essence of what the newly presented version of the previous world offers…

Dear reader, I think I will leave this epic dilemma to you, maybe, just maybe the final choice of your journey was always yours.

Maybe, at the end of all imaginable ends, not all travelers are, just “Dust in the Wind”.

Perhaps, at the end of all imaginable ends, not all travelers are just “Dust in the Wind” we are far more, but to be able to find a grain of your true essence, the truth, you can no longer be fooled by simple illusions orchestrated by the malice of hateful sorcerers who will try infiltrate and steal your mind and heart.

Your life begins with you, and their miserable reign ends with you, discovering who you truly are.

Written entirely by my mysterious, elusive masters/handlers and translated by Hal ZX Spectrum 56000 with 48 kilobytes of memory RAM.

The Devil’s Machine, responsible for all my written poems and short stories…

EASY

It is too easy

do you feel dizzy

are you calling all the shots?

do you like your unnaturally elevated mug?

submissive dog can be a god, like a foxtrot without an ultimate nod

life has been sold for another dead slot

a falsified century terraformed into an awakened robot

machiavellian onslaught

what can be sold, who can be bought?

don’t you prefer our lot?

Day is slowly creeping in

electromagnetic pulse is hitting reluctant screaming sin

happy targeted pig is wallowing in his destructive dream

Black Crow is ecstatic and unbearable loud

something is quietly coming about

don’t dare to dream

don’t you make another vigilant sound

don’t do your Walkabout

maybe North is the actual South

presented choices are looking slim

The sky is again falling

another innocent Soul is calling

when the wounded heart of this world is slowly crawling

Forgive and forget

forgive and don’t fret

forgive and just accept

Game, set, and match

are you alive

are you already born dead?

Forgive and forget

forgive and don’t fret

forgive and just accept

are you alive

are you already born dead?

do you see the road ahead?

horny vultures are measuring

what can be stolen,

what is erected most pleasurable

Angry again?

your name has been called in vain

midnight shadow has been hidden inside the eye of terrible rain

absolution tied down within the final days

only broken fools will obey

only dead man will have nothing to say

Pray, better your ongoing day

maybe in illusion, you will dig out your lost way

Action speaks louder than words

All words are sacred aiming at necrotic accords

lookup, there reach for your heavenly sword

words are too steep,

some unhealed wounds cut too deep

words, castaway sailors without deserved sleep

Brave Souls can not just preach

Learn how to teach

open blue eyes and reach

Man of action

one way to receive true traction

sword in your hands will give you

most potent satisfaction

turn on sacred levitation

Turn on your drowned imagination

truly look, forget about the captain and his degraded Hook

and find your real nation

find the voice of speaking runes

tune into the magick of these elevated tunes

find the means of real communication

there you will find a fresh breath of magnificent salvation

The alive soul can not die in his cemented tomb

the alive soul is just stuck in an artificially made womb

from the dying square make a romb(Rhombus_)

let them know

something inside you is ready to blow

you are a messenger whispering inside of the sacred flow

Your time is coming, very soon

The beautiful flower is fasting in her fool bloom

Your time is coming, it is high noon

Forgive and forget

forgive and don’t fret

forgive and just accept

Game, set, and match

are you alive

are you already born dead?

do you see the road ahead?

Forgive and forget

forgive and don’t fret

forgive and just accept

are you alive

are you already born dead?

do you, see the road ahead?

All masks will eventually fall and I mean all, as I told you way back before.

Cheers!

15 COMMENTS

  1. White folks outlived their usefulness to the beast

    Same with black folks

    And Native peoples first

    All replaced

    Best servants still here running the show

    Keep the beasts borders wide open they do

    Till they replace all of you

    There is a Spirit about the place

    In those hollows of the driftless area

    Those hollows of Appalachia

    Filled and haunted beast refused

    Best to live by Spirit and ignore the beast

  2. https://youtu.be/wC10VWDTzmU?si=42hgRLCjPGXauNCz

    You got the attention of the Langley crowd since you aren’t an American, lucky you, perhaps I will explaine it to you.
    Listen to Dylan here explaining merica in a simple song.

    In merica Langley controls the narritive

    Uspostal controls the roads

    Federal reserve controls the money

    Treasury spends the money

    Money runs the congress

    Narritive for sale to the highest bidder

    All serving somebody

    Ancient and beastly

    But they serve it they all do

    Not the brave and free never was

    All immigrants brought here to serve

    Replacements for the worn out

    Thanks for your service

    Why they got rid of native people’s

    Made bad servants

    Well HP, all you need to know about our Tranies at Langley the preferred mericans will know them by their purple tipped hair and skinny jeans.
    In real America we won’t listen to you as we ignore you and move on with our lives.

      • Well, Nine those who point the fingers better soon bring the hot evidence on the shiny plate or I might turn to the dark side for a brief moment, I must admit I am highly amused but, well…
        Will see maybe I will start to give a seven-day grace period to bring the undeniable proof of my treachery and wrongdoings of these elusive masters that got me in their tight hands and if there is none to be had, then I should do some home visitation, like a highly specialized doctor or even better start writing some fine dark curses, just to show the proof of my mojo..as they say, believing/feeling it is seeing.

        I mean you want the smoldering proof that I can write, think for myself..well it can be arranged.

    • tRump the chosen one as look, he is the beast in person, watch them all follow like lemmings heading for a cliff.
      When he tells them to all jump they will say how high?

      Warp speed and I am it’s father

      Take the vaxxine like all my pals at Langley did

      Jesus orange and monstrous

      Know them by whom they serve

      Langley says when truth is a lie

      We control the Narritive

      • I gotta laugh HP, as I pedal a bike all over America’s Midwest, I see our new Latino arrivals living outside Chicago in houses I could never afford, see them in all the latest corporate fashions, running on the trails and as they move up, will see them in cycling kit, joining Rapha and happily serving that beast. Cycling the new Golf play thing of the rich, golf so boring as they block the roads dressed in a corporate kit.
        Those new arrivals will do anything to move up in the land of the free and why I have been replaced but there are the hollows, filled with Spirit as I go there to escape that beast.

        • Like I told you HP, Rapha came to the hollows of the driftless area by the hundreds, but the Spirit of the place had other ideas, hail and rain for days on end sent them packing back to Chicago as not welcome here. That was on May 26. Rapha set up there tents waiting for 600 cyclists dressed in their glorious kit but for the Spirit of the place that had other ideas. Rapha an abomination even to the local people pushing the DEI narratives given them by our Langley boyz.

          • Do you know what the locals say in the Illinois driftless area?
            There is Springfield and Chicago then the rest of Illinois.
            You can see it in the people as hwy 47 is the border of the infestation of the beast. East of 47 and 50 miles you are in the loop the heart of the beast in the Midwest. They wear masks still and truly believe in langley`s narratives. Look at Chicago as black folk dispossessed as their homes given to immigrants. And black traitors to their own people enforce these policies. Same as our white traitors do and those tribal leaders on those reservations.

          • https://rumble.com/v3bad5w-juxtapositions-gems-why-is-my-content-unique.html

            There he is in his rapha kit plugging himself. What a dousch bag. Even my vaxxed up local Jewish cycling pals won’t don that cringy jersey representing that horrible walmart family.
            You know they spent 200 million to buy Rapha don’t you? Why did they do that? How come our justy won’t talk about that? Claiming it’s just a shirt? Our justy could never hang with me on any driftless area road. Dousch bags get attacked by the Spirit in them hollars.