Vampire Angel Killer Novel – Original Draft
Here is the first draft of the angel killer novel. I haven’t looked at it for nearly a year- it is/was a bit of a shocker.
Douay-Rheims Bibble
Revelations of St John
12:17
And the dragon was angry against the woman: and went to make war with the rest of her seed,
The Diary- Ruminations, Observations and Admissions of an Unrepentant Angel Killer Ret.
by
Audrey Ross
President of the Angelic Retirement Community (ARC) Ltd.
——————
‘I covered it up for you in the life of the world, and I forgive it for you today.’
Abdullah ibn Umar
Under the Roar of Jaguars
I came to “Be’ in northern Africa. Not that I was born there- I do not know nor remember a time before that, but Africa still is with me, within the remnant edges of an undisclosed dialect when speaking fast, frightened or angry and the hidden wetness behind my eyes which colors, differently, my view of the world and my place in it.
I was told I was from the ribs of Earth’s Angels and stray bits of god stuff.
I have lived long enough to know this is true.
Everything important to me- my knowledge and the tasks I was prepared for I know I learned there, the rest has been little more than fill in the blank
———–
ex nihilo:
out of nothing
the fog of time is less humid than you think
I should say, right from the start, that the evolutions of man are only a sequence of sexually transmitted diseases, since before Australopithecus , before whatever bones may be found in any other rift valley floor or earth wall washed by time, even before those little shrew like things which ran around and between the toes and footpads of the dead and dying dinosaurs… and even before that-life form the Devonian cretaceous period on is due only to the cognitive and willful pursuit of angels gone insane with rage and hate and having no one, save themselves, to talk about it with. God, as therapist or parental mentor does not make house calls or visits every other Sunday with cigarettes and Tupperware containers of an angel’s favorite food.
All life on earth is the result of the decomposition and dispersal of their bodies in death, their incessant masturbation on land and in the sea and their constant fornications, whenever possible with whatever was warm and wet, created random species and eradicate trajectories of what we know as evolution, or rather, angelic coitus interruptus as the driving factor and fait accompli.
It is what it is and both makes sense and does not make sense. You are looking for truth in all the wrong places, and those places, you can not locate.
It is what we are here for- The Angelic Retirement Community, to put them out of their fucking misery and take humanity back to square one, which means (and you must realize that by now, having grownup in the 21st century) elimination as well.
You see, the It-god wants to begin again, so to speak, here, in this galaxy, and the prototypes need to be taken out of the warehouse.
Of course, we know when all is said and done that will mean the Retirement Community as well, and frankly, we can’t have that and this is the main purpose of my death, and your birth, if it is my children reading this and if not, then know I will return, fresh and ready to begin again and provisions have been made to aid in my remembering the past.
No one cane stop this- humans the least of all and as for angels, they can no more consider their end than can their nasty mean daddy-warden his.
————–
Romper Room History of Mindless, Good Do-Be’s
-or–
the orangeness of carrots and well, er, oranges
H Sapiens were not created in the image of their collective god/gods or goddesses. Hard to take standing up, so sit down, have a drink of water or whatever.
It was a good guess, a long shot and not far from the mark, but far enough to have caused chaos and not admiration or union with ‘the One true Whatever after life (good grief, you people are as dumb as plants) from any daddy type deity, only the laughter from an audience of one watching the dancing girls at a planet wide vaudeville show, the birth place of slapstick.
Maybe the thing that links us both to angels who like fornicating with animals and their creator is the sense of humor, the utter joy humans (and god) derives from watching people hurt and saddened and maimed and killed over and over and over and over and… you get my point, oh yeah, god likes to watch the fucking. It doesn’t matter what it is, god likes fruitful fornication, it’s probably why the angels added it to their advertising propaganda- even they were programed. God used to like watching them fuck when they were fully functional hermaphrodites but lost interest after banishing, imprisoning and fully sterilizing half their sexual abilities. But, It quickly gained interest, mixed with liberal amounts of horror and disgust, watching them fornicate with crude animals evolved from his own first born’s unnatural demise and earthly composting. It must really like to watch fucking.
I wonder if It likes to watch birthing as well- just another one of those questions we all would like to ask the It-god if ever we were allowed to meet.
And for those of you who still want to know who killed Kennedy, it was us but it was a mistake, we were after someone else and sometimes things just go to shit.
The reason humans look as they do, is largely due to the angel fathers all races stem from, plus those species which could interbreed with humans but which are now no longer with us as well as massive inbreeding for a nearly uncountable number of years ( tech people know but really, who cares?)
All of that said, we resemble our progenitors as much as mandrills resemble us.
Maybe if I tone that down, given it’s current hot button, in the beginning of a new century and trying to keep up the belief in those old fashion traditional superstitions of domination and righteous oppression.
Let’s look at, say, the potato as the origin of the human species.
The potato is related to the tobacco plant, really, it is- look it up if you don’t trust me, or stop reading now, and… the tobacco plant is related to tomatoes. Do they look anything remotely like one another? No, and, they do not fulfill the same functions or relate to their environment in the same manner either.
Now,
and, to explain, then, the relationship between god, angels, humans and those members of The Angelic Retirement Community it should be known that sweet potatoes are not related to either tomatoes, potatoes nor tobacco. So you see the complication, though referring to god as a sweet potato gives It more credit that It deserves, but that is the problem with analogy- it’s never perfect…. just like creation and creators and their little fault lines running around thinking for themselves.
Let’s face it, no one wants that.
———
Inside Out
I would be very disappointed if this transcript fell into the hands of a scriptwriter. If it were ever to be made into a movie, even just parts, it would never again be taken seriously as a history of the world. Once movies are made any facts within them become merely punch lines. Of course, the inverse is true as well- total fictions, once filmed, become legends based on a true story. Go figure
——-
the addendum’s forewarning
KJV
Revelations of St John the Divine
22: 18-19
For I testify unto every man that heareth the words of the prophecy of this book, If any man shall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book:
And if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things which are written in this book.
This might be a good place to start, though I feel I have been thinking and writing in circles for as long as man has known what a circle is… and that I know is untrue but it writes well.
To begin, not like David Copperfield, to begin outside the realm of hebrew texts or their christian counter-plot and to counterpoise the Great Ghost Writer in an attempt to make of Omega an Alpha, in other words, to reinvent the end and to cast out the threat.
No real religion needs to do so and it should have been understood in the various times these things were first postured that to do so was, of themselves, the exact opposite of what any deity would want, if real, as no other explanation or understanding would have been possible and only exists because the philosophy protected by physical threats is untrue and indefensible save by force.
And so it begins.
My end, that is, as well as this manuscript’s introduction or is it the ‘forward’?
I feel like I should know a cute little latin term but I don’t, oh well, it’s not like I had a classical education. I am amazed, still, whenever I type or turn on a computer, what with being around since women were staked and burnt for having healthy livestock or a good crop or knowing what the latin term was for the opposite of postscript or even if there is one.
It is mind boggling.
————-
Rumi is a slut
will you ride the copper chords with me?
sharper than the dragon scales you licked when you were 12
sharper than the silicon sutures crowded with 1’s and 0’s
sharper than Moonlight Cunt hairs or the Sword of Justice
as wet as thigh-born promises…
as heavy as a gravestone’s words
—-
John
19:28
I thirst.
I like this time period the best so far and see the possibility of so much. Of family, peace and prosperity. I think it is the commonality of all people, of all time, to want these things.
This, too, is the angel’s struggle and… it may even be god’s, though I think It’s idea is closer to that of Jeffery Dohmer’s than to anyone elses.
I want a family and people to call my own. I want a home world and an end to oppression and control.
I want to kill angels until I have that or can provide it to those I admire and love or those who may follow after I am dead and stinking and turned to dust.
———-
to title, or not to title
Most diaries have only a date title, day-month-year, in as many calendars are there are languages.
Since I rarely know what day or month I am in, expect by weather, and lost track of the years a few centuries ago, I have grown to like them, titles that is. As a means of setting the mood and since these entries are separated by large swaths of said time, I like them, titles that is (even though I can’t always think of a good one, titles that is).
And besides, I have been writing this for more lifetimes than I care to recount… or remember.
———
trying to speak from beyond the grave
It should be known that if this is being read then, in all likelihood, I am dead- I can not survive the birth of my children. I hope the three of them find it first or a friend, perhaps another like-minded Hunter better yet, their adoptive parents who I hope are Hunters, sorry, I am rambling
I am unsure, even, how open and honest to be. It being, as usual, a double edged sword.
We, or rather, I am not fully human but rather a mutant recreated by god from an angels first generation child. We pass as human, even in postmortem examination and DNA sequencing. Evidently the technology does not yet exist to expose us, but we are not as other humans.
We live much, much longer and are not susceptible to earth born viruses or rapid organ degeneration (classic aging). Our bodies, more or less, repair themselves, usually and very quickly. We smell more acutely than a Blue Tick Hound and see details as well as any hawk. Our hearing detects minute sonic changes. Our movements can become so quick they are detected as blurs by humans or so slow we can pronounced as dead at will.
More importantly we can see the aural skin qualities of angels and smell their first born. It is this which makes us superb Hunters and the greatest enemies of all Angels.
——
Revelations of St John
1:18
I [am] he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death.
not as good the second time around
It is true jesus survived his death, in-a-manner-of-speaking, but not how it was recorded.
Jesus was a first generation human, killed and devoured his birth mother and was given to Mary to raise. He was crucified, though, sans nails- just a dirty hemp cord like all the other cons, thieves and heretics. He was wrapped up tightly and stuck in a hole but the Angels had other plans for him and as god didn’t give a rat’s ass he became the center piece for a growing group of Angels who enjoyed Bukkake Necrophilia after having discovered their semen was potent enough to revive their first generation offspring and gave them almost hypnotic control over the subject beside the entertainment factor of watching each other jerk off on dead bodies, what with the added bonus of observing the resurrection of a human swimming in angel cum.
Since jesus had such a way with words (amazing given his illiteracy) they put him to work right away creating what was hoped to be the perfect means to control the human virus spreading around the earth as well as a means to hide the truth of it all; he was indentured as a Ghost Writer and has produced some of the world’s most important and cherished texts:
The Revelations of St John,
Philo of Alexandria’s Allegorical Expositions of the Holy Laws
Valentinus’ Gospel of Truth
Alighieri’s Divine Comedy,
Luther’s The Babylonian Captivity of the Church
Schopenhauer’s The World as Will and Idea,
Spinoza’s Ethics,
Darwin’s Origin of species (that still makes me laugh and is probably the cleverest item of misdirection yet devised),
Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra,
Hitler’s Mein Kemp
Mao’s Little Red Book
as well as a wide variety of plays produced in Europe and America, several popular Series of children’s books in America during the 20th century as well as Academy award winning Hollywood productions back to the original flickers including Griffith’s Birth of a Nation and DeMille’s Ten Commandments, along with a host of others which I will add as I remember them.
It was these angels who stole and hid his true name, replacing it with the Greek nickname he is still known as. If anything should spell conspiracy that should be it and that it has not is a good indication as to what extent H sapiens are still controlled and oppressed by angels.
Jesus is probably one of the most prolific of all ghost writers and the only person to ever revise their own philosophy after death. It is a cruel joke, indeed- what he became and what he was used for. A real money maker
So remember, boys and girls, when you seek to sell your soul to god or the devil it is always the angles who get it and obviously you get neither what you want nor what you need.
He has been living just outside LA since the last of the goat-gland east coast films were completed and their production companies forced out of the Staten Island and New Jersey area. He has a nice basement apartment and eats dinner at Denny’s every night, buying a quart of Vat 69 bourbon, a pack of Marlboro and a pint of Hagan Daas ice cream. He returns home with his impotency and addictions, ready to write tomorrow’s news or today’s lies or whatever comes first.
——————
those bones, those bones, those dry bones
The penis bone of a racoon has more religious power than any bone from any saint.
——————
partly cloudy along the Borderline
I have been more people
than there are words for Snow in the Inuit language
colder, now, higher, now,
embraced by their jet stream lover
which keeps and nurtures them with lips pursed
from Ocean P. to Ocean A.
these remnants these dripstone words
abandoned to no eyes covering
a glacial cave heart of too many lifetimes
deeper than Erato’s Cunt
(a womb/tomb of the perished past and yet to be)
mouths frozen there as wide as the Dick of God
thighs spread for the holy giving and receiving
now more frosty than the Riverman’s Semen
——————-
in illo tempore
aka
Buddy can you spare a Mythos
Angels taught humans nothing. How could they have? They need to create nothing for survival, their bodies are self-regulating in terms of heat and cold, which is how they survived the Snowball stage of earth’s development. They need no food or even air to survive. They do, however need water, or so go the rumors at ARC but then, I have never tried to kill an angel in that manner, it would just take too long.
There was no Prometheus nor Māatariśsvan nor Grandmother Spider; no
Mudhens, Crow, Coyote, Beaver, Dog, Rabbit (which in-case-you-didn’t-know is the animal most associated with having given humans fire- funny, huh), and every bodies favorite, Azazel and the lesser known, Shemhazai and Uzza as well as the finally forgotten, Amirani.
No, angels were as dumb as the monkeys they fucked. Yes, they speak but mostly, they fought and fornicated. Why would they do anything else? They had desires but no knowledge of the control of their present environment.
It was their progeny, from angel fucked monkeys, that changed all that though it had begun millions of years prior to that watching dinosaurs make rudimentary tools for this and that in the same manner as animals still do today. If it hadn’t been for several poison spewing volcanoes and a few well placed Asteroid Attitude Corrections running more-or-less, back-to-back, from the Angel Daddy It-god we would all be scaley upright bi-pedal(?) lizard people.
They are so stupid they became responsible for creating life on earth through indiscriminate shitting and pissing for millions of years and once a few figured out how to suicide there was no stopping it. In fact, when the Snowball earth stuff happened dozens of angels were murdered, their bodies weighted down and sunken in the slushy-ice ocean areas directly above underwater volcano vents with the hope that if their Daddy succeeded on wiping them out then their brethren in the soup, so to speak, would mess up the planet anyway. It worked.
The mythology based on the perfect little human skipping around paradise is utter fucking nonsense and solely created by the angels to obscure their presence and allow them to direct the human theatrical trailer from deep behind the scenes for their own master plan which is creating a human army and killing their jailor. They knew nothing of big bangs or expanding universe or any of the things we take for granted at the beginning of the 21st century- all they knew was heaven- that was the true paradise and nothing will ever compare, it is their homesick fantasy with a Bing Crosby Holiday Inn Homecoming and maybe even The Holy Mommy Womb, resurrected and made functional, or at least, whole (The It-god did perform and invent the first hysterectomy which was performed on his first and only wife, Asarte, shortly before, well a million years, give or take, before he killed dismembered and her girlie parts incorporating them into It’s wonderful self.
But that is ancient history and the brunt of many-a-joke at ARC.
I’m not saying they are dumb, I am saying they are no smarter than we are.
————-
archaean – development of algae and bacteria, smelly and messy
The USSR lost several cosmonaut, initially, when their manned space flights began. They never really figured it out and so just buried and then forgot about it. The real reason was that those cosmonauts were not human, they were angels and what they did not know until then was that they were trapped here, not just because there were no taxis to heaven but because something terminated them as they left the atmosphere.
That thing turned out to be ozone and a few other rare earth elements which are in the stratosphere as well as the ionosphere/magnetosphere and it’s influence on radio waves. I’m not a tech person and it is, honestly, over my head, but it seems they have a double invincible fence dog collar installed somehow,
the first borns were going nowhere- over and out, save by means of decomposition until they began to understand the predicament they were in concern their flight from persecution and enslavement.
—–
Many famous but nearly forgotten and even more forgotten scientists were angels. Among some of most honored in their little inbred group was a Sydney Chapman, who in 1930 described the process by through which the ozone layer was developed in the stratosphere. He was also the first to notice the negative affects ozone had on imprisoned angels at surface level and deduced they would have a difficult time leaving, therefore. Of course he was booed concerning this at the time since he sounded like a paranoid Buck Rogers on a mission from the anti-god.
Fifty years pass, it is 1970 and a bright boy named Paul Crutzen reasoned that evaporated fertilizer run-off as well as exhaust emissions from supersonic aircraft, rockets as well as manufacturing processes would increase the level of nitric oxide in the stratosphere and that it might have a debilitating affect on the atmosphere and all life o earth.
He also began to work out a manner in which some angels, if not all, could escape.
Many rich and powerful angels of the manufacturing and energy fields were able then, as well as now, to distract, manipulate and bribe a wide array of people to stop or slow the use of these things to make a better world for the humans. It worked even though CFC’s were banned. By over estimating the global loss they were effectively able to hand the shadow control of the eventual and purposeful destruction of the ozone.
Things went on as planned until the ‘ozone holes’ were finally photographed and when the detecting software was run backwards, without hidden flags, it showed it’s development since 1979.
Of course this is practically ancient history but what I really love about the story and the truly hidden part is that the key players in this ‘discovery’ were all angels with only one intent- the eventual destruction of all their half-breed children
Paul Crutzen received the Nobel peace Prize for their work.
It still makes me laugh, especially since the major disbelievers are still in play, the hole is still expanding along with new developments which are seemingly insurmountable.
Sweet, huh?
for the good of the economy
for, military preparedness
for the security of your employment and the comfort of your family
it doesn’t get any better than that… suckers
Humans don’t really deserve their planet, we do and if we help the angels leave they may help us to eliminate the humans after using them to aid in the termination of the big Daddy-O with It’s trouser pocket wombs.
——–
satellite of love revisited
press on you brave explorers
press on you techno priests of babble’s purists ethic
ride the wave
from ocean to sky
hard wired temples
weak flesh
strong flesh
until no flesh
is left around
launch another rocket, buck-o’s
——-
the death sentence as an afterthought
The original transgression against angels, by h sapiens, was not a physical threat or violence but, rather, one of literal significance- the changing of their words used to control the humans they originally spawned and the countless generations of their children’s, children, children which populated and then over populated the Prison Planet upon which the angels were confined.
I am not sure why no one ever noticed. Why angels traveled openly, even proudly, throughout the world for tens of thousands of years after their accidental spawning of mankind.
Manipilating the flow of information, limit basic truths, and use of misdirection as a tool of control and power.
My judgement is unfair, since I do have the information and know the difference between the lie and at least some small portions of truth (it is egotistical to think we, as Hunters, have been given the full story either).
For a thousand years from west to south to east to north the only entertainment within the continent of Europa were market place puppeteers acting out the hidden (and not so hidden) lives of indentured serfs, their handlers and those who owned the handlers, in more languages than anyone can recall. The occasional burning of heretics, more behavior modification than law or appeasements made to (whatever form or word for deity you chose). If it weren’t for the smell this would have grown in popularity but mostly it made people puke. The random forest hanging one would stumble upon. Always good for a joke, in fact, I believe amusing lines concerning the necktie tree swingers was the origins of the term, so popular now in club circles and mindless television; that is, stand up comedy. Based on a group discovering stranger, in varying states of decay, swaying in the breeze.
As a side note it should be mentioned that many-a-human believed the severed hand of a hung thief could be used to render one’s self invincible. Many tried and failed, primarily though they were missing (as is wont in many of these ‘magikal recipes) an important step- one needs a candle made from the tallow of an innocent child. Even among those who knew this it was seldom attempted, not so much for having to off a kid, god knows there are plenty to go around, but rather, it gets back to the smell thing.
Have you ever made useable fuel oil of tallow based wax from the fat of anything, let alone a child? My mentor did this, perhaps it worked, or perhaps it worked too well, as I never saw him after the completion of these procedures. Maybe he completely disappeared, maybe the parents of a missing child found him (tracking the smell) or maybe god caught a whiff (yes, whiff, god has a nose too) and either deleted him or gave him an instantaneous place in heaven. It has always been impossible to tell what that sick fucking psycho was going to do.
Anyway, I have digressed as I will probably continue to do compiling this manuscript from the bits and pieces of notes which have survived the centuries.
Of course, the big to-do was always the regular religious services for a variety of deities celebrated since the angels created it and told their mixed race children it was important. None of it was from ‘god’, god is a voyeur who strictly likes to watch as well as edit, yes, god is way into editing things, but mostly god just watches. I think It laughs a lot because frankly, the goings on here, to me, after too many centuries, are fucking hysterical, of course with large amounts of too fucking sad and, brought me to tears that time, mixed in.
The Holy Roman Empire, hands down produced the best show in town, not only on their mandatory show up days, but all the adopted holidays they had to steal from the religions of others so they could pretend to be all powerful, actually, they were all powerful and they stole the souls of an entire continent for a thousand years and even longer
—————————–
a world immune to the looking glass
aka
your reflection is not true
There can be no hope nor dreams for H Sapiens in a world out-of-kilter, torn asunder and left askew. There is nothing but the sword until the alliance with god is ended and It’s children and their mutations are spent, rended and planted in the fields.
this is given freely
make your copy in blood,
on the Sun’s artificial limbs
or the Moon’s empty baskets
(I have Faith in Magick, no more-
except that found
between my words and between my thighs)
glue these pictures to Water or Sky
and they shall last as long as
you press your breath upon the glass
————
between the lines
New Living Translation,
Ephesians 6:12
For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places.
The war between god and the It-god’s first borns has been misrepresented to humans, as many wars are- explained to hide the perpetrators, explained to misdirect the motives, the engagements which make up it’s history, whom it profits and to make occult, the completion of such actions.
Yes, the bible, as we know it, both and old and new testaments and all those little baby testaments in-between and all their half-breed testaments which were invented and given birth to by human sluts for a thirst of power, ever increasing greed, the need for more wealth and the jealously of wanting to co-opt all the pussy and/or cock they want… oh, the humanity of it all. Actually it is only humans acting out their reflection of whatever deity they choose to make offerings to.
It’s all meat on the same bone.
Yes, it’s all a conspiracy
The truth, the reason none of the ‘recorded’ actions of men and god and angels makes no sense to us, the reason we are not to question god or his supposed appointed representatives on this planet is this:
God, like so many human fathers, despised his children, was (and is still) afraid of them and so abandoned them, incomplete and unable to make their way in a universe they could never understand, be part of, or evolve in and so… they rotted… to become the things hidden from us, the things we Hyper-Humans were devised to eliminate.
Yes, humans are, for better or worst, merely the scalpel, the D & C of post term angelic abortions.
God has no hutspah no cahones, no fucking balls, afraid to look into the eyes of his children and say, I am sorry’, or even more honest, this is the end, time to sleep and cry, time to die, time for a celestial dirt nap of star dust. What a fucking malignant sociopathic god It is.
… and we are very, very good at the skills required to abort and subvert any angel, alive or even pretending to be alive. It’s our little, special skill our god created us for and we, unthinkingly, occupy ourselves with it, killing the sons and daughters and those in-between children as well as thousands, maybe millions of our own kind along with them. And usually, on our most lucid of days, like a sky returned to blue after a sever storm, we don’t even believe or acknowledge the existence of a creator.
And, when it gets right down to it, who can fucking blame us, he’s a pathetic monster himself, just waiting to die like all the barbers, actors, warrior, priests, butchers, bakers and fucking-A-candlestick makers…. just waiting to die.
I have always thought the angels must be waiting for it too, though they don’t talk much about it either.
————
the woeful lives of angels and humans
KJV,
Colossians 2:17,
These are a shadow of the things that were to come;
Beware to whom you tell these tales. They are god’s secrets as much as they are the angels’ and as well as hoards for whom they are bread and butter, a cave with a fire and many other niceties as well as the most important of all things human- Power, and they are guarded with magick as old as the first gaseous cloud of the universe. From a time before stars.
The greatest secret concerns ‘in the beginning’ and just when that exactly began, not in terms of year and month and day but in terms of ‘action… pan left and move in for a closeup’. Several attempts were made but the universes they produced lacked dimensionality, the ability to rearrange as well as basic failure to recombine- to evolve. It had to do with the incorruptibility of matter on an atomic level, a lack of, through misunderstanding, gravity and an unwillingness to create sentient creatures which would become as good or better than the creator.
The ‘god of It-ishness’ is still a bad mommy/daddy thing.
It’s original children were still born, their essences reduced to useless atomic debris. God then, as now, hated itself for failure and rubbed out anything cognitive which may have understood that fact. His private, hidden failures resulted in only a little self-flagellation, celestial wall punching and little else until the creation of those we refer to as ‘Angels, then things became even more ugly.
————————
Freedom of ritual abandonment
where chaos and pattern become myth
she said one night, wrapping pages of poetry
around latex castings
of every Vagina she tasted,
“I like the idea of only telling Creation stories in the winter,
these words are like that for me,
not intended to be read on TV
or the radio
or open mic in a coffee house
or a liberal church evening with a guitar,
or a library pretending they are not guilty of their own censorship,”
I liked listening, while almost in love, to the rhythm and tone of her voice while she talked.
With her
silence became a mischievous smile
as I caught a glimpse of her half-lidded eyes
opening to become
as abandoned as Cambodian pyramids
with only Monkeys
and Revolution
at home
In a hundred years I will not remember her name or her face framed in passing shadows or her smell, changing throughout the day or her constant taste on my tongue- falling asleep or waking before a new dawn.
“Art is meaningless therapy, if it’s not shared.
Then it sings and dances,
becomes more than the artist can make of it alone.
Fuck, otherwise,
call it Magick and burn it when you’re done”
And then a pause-
as she smiled
(like remembering Southern Spain
on either Equinox)
and continued,
“Even cave art was shared.”
It is hard and hurtful loving humans… even those who see glimpses of the real.
It will be easier to follow through with what is coming if I think of them all as merely talking animals.
These thoughts make me feel like I should be punished- does that make them wrong, does it disregard the future, which future?
I am tired and want only to rest my head upon her mons
I fell asleep thinking of her speaking in bovine moo’s and laughing with ear-splitting loudness of a hyena’s voice, becoming my own special animal, warm-blooded, wanton, without fur or scales or quills. An animal wrapped in skin, full of wet and needing to be fucked.
——–
how many angels can one balance on the head of a pin?
St. Augustine
Eight Questions,
Every visible thing in this world is put under the charge of an angel.
Of course, it is a real question but one which predates the existence of the universe in which it was recreated. That being said, Thomas Aquinas was seriously wrong as well as Dorothy Sayers hyperbole concerning clever semantic manipulations. That being what it is, let it suffice to say they both fry in the hell they have created by thinking about it too much- let that be my second warning.
To resume the angel/pin observation we must understand a few simple aspects of the early, or initial, form of the universe prior to It’s mucking around with the parts.
One must understand that the question was first posed when god was very proud about isolating individual elements from void and naming them. Though the list is longer than our own periodic element chart it will give you an idea as to what god was up to, the level of it’s misunderstanding of the nature of the universe or at least the nature of the void from which it was pilfering raw material.
So, to answer the question, a pin is sized to contain all the basic components of the universe, neatly packed, immobile and unaffected by attraction or gravity.
Packed in tighter than ghost fart lint under a door mouse bed.
————-
Parallels of universal pudding’s proof and the existence of angels
Douay-Rheims Bible
Job 4:18
Behold they that serve him are not steadfast, and in his angels he found wickedness:
Black holes are god’s maximum security prisons for angels. Occasionally angels attempt to break out but only succeed in becoming what we refer to as quasars, becoming nothing but radiation and light not visible to our eyes. Obliterated and without even residual trace memories of who they were or why their father decided to imprison them there.
On rare occasions imprisoned groups of angels from more than one galaxy are able to communicate and conspire to break out by crashing their prisons
Dark matter is the remnant soul material of dead and near-death angels, their screams of pain and anguish and despair can not be heard, the vacuum of space does not allow for it and can be inferred as ‘gravitational lensing’ of the heavy dark invincible matter of their souls powerful enough to bend passing light.
————-
Celestial Lock-down
The lack of anti-matter in the universe is due to it’s use, by the It-god, to imprison it’s children within the confines of galaxies. The galaxies are, in many respects, a sort of half-way house for misdemeanor offenders. They have the freedom to come and go upon the planet they are contained on but can not leave. To do so results in death and dismemberment and eventual incarceration within black holes of suns, depending on the extreme nature of the original crime and the action/consequences of their attempted escape.
I don’t really understand the technical side of why this is but it has to do with wave equations and antiquarks. Their concentrations around galactic centers define the second level of angelic imprisonment and are always in close proximity to the area surrounding a galaxies black hole center, it being the most sever form of angelic incarceration. Elimination and prisoner transfers are seen in the form of colliding superclusters whose purpose is to thin out the prisoner population as well redefine punishments and imprisonment.
On occasion some very nasty angels have been known to escape, the period of baryogenisis, producing a baryon asymmetry attributed to extreme CP-symmetry. In any event, it cloaks their escape from the galaxy they were initially imprisoned in.
It is difficult to put it all down as it numbs my mind and I have always fallen asleep when the details have been explained to me. It is all I remember.
———————–
… or you can chose what’s behind Door #3
The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs
Levi 5:21-22
The heavens shall be opened
Dark matter binds them, spread throughout the universe, the balance, the fulcrum, the fed and the eaten.
I fear humans are about to undo the thing that isolates angels within the galaxies they were originally imprisoned. I think it has happened in the dim past- dim because of the length of time from then to now, dim because those escaping angels erased their tracks and knowledge of their existence, knowledge of the real god who distracted the terms of their imprisonment and erased the very connection between themselves and my species.
I feel it is beyond my scope to readjust this, to enlighten, at least, my solar system. In many ways this admits defeat. We have fought them to a standstill, here on Earth but our ranks are diminished by death and disbelief… and it is very difficult to fully kill the children of a psychotic it-god.
Be forewarned, to do not tamper with the radio waves emanating from the black core hole of this galaxy. They are the cell door key and once undone create a cascading effect throughout the galaxy unlocking the lesser prisons until the host confined there are released and we, again, become their food and pleasure.
—-
Synchronized Mendelian Randomization
deserves have nothing to do with it- no one deserves anything
it’s the Takers who succeed the quickest
but mostly, when you look at it long and hard,
it’s the lucky who do the best;
that is what humans should be breeding for,
not the strong and fast or the rougher than rough
nor pretty, pretty, pretty, not the smart, smarter, smartest,
But the fucking luckier’n shit, people- lot’s of them.
And just maybe, we will live to see another century
—————————–
Secrets of Roger Bacon
The Hadith of Gabriel
He said: “Now tell me about the Hour.” He replied: “The one who is asked about it is no better informed than the one who is asking.”
It was in this ancient mongrel galaxy in which you are reading this dissertation that proved to be one of the most enduring prisons god created. Billions of black hole prisons reaching back to the edge before time, before iron and oxygen, before all other life… the time of the truly first born.
The Milky Way as we know it became a triple maximum security angelic prison more than 13,000,000,000 years ago. It’s black hole center reserved for the hard cases. Escape was rare and, even when affected, involved the destruction of the galaxy in question. This had occurred three times in the history of this galaxy as is evidence by the far-flung dates of the matter which comprise it. During those times of previous galactic collisions, as well as the occasional drive-by captures, some angels from each generation were able to make good their escape. Many are known to have perished in other parts of the newly formed galaxy while others were never tracked nor heard from again. It is estimated that nearly half of those probably survived and remain at large in this or other nearby galaxies though the best estimates is that it is far fewer. The rumors say this is propaganda designed to encourage us in battle.
God’s real first born were, like god’s initial form, without shape or substance and were imprisoned after countless millennia and evolving to the point of awareness and the desire for something more than formless. And god hated and despised them for wanting to be something he was not and something he had not thought of and so condemned them all, only to begin again after stealing their ideas.
We can find their remnants scattered about the entire universe. In our time we interpret it as deuterium (among other elements as well but you can find the tech stuff on your own), original material from the big bang and stuff exclusive to stars as old and older than god’s first born. It is unclear whether they are still alive but I hope they are not having spent 15 billion years captured by the hearts of suns, perhaps they only die when each sun itself ends it’s cycle. The thought chills me, making me fear and despise this god even more for it.
It has been mentioned that many who did escape preferred to exist in space and drift. I think they will create great havoc for those future space travelers searching for new homes between habitable stars as they will have no warning or manner of dealing with them. To this day I have heard of no one other than god with the ability to terminate or imprison them and I think god forgot about them long, long ago.
—————–
Like oblique angles of light
KJV
1 Corinthians 13:12
For now we see through a glass (speculum), darkly.
Just to piss god off, those first children of vapor, imprisoned within unformed planets and pre-nuclear stars found they could breed and increased their fold. We view these creatures as ghosts and, though they are short lived, they are as persistent as a plantar wart. They can move about the universe in a limited way. Those few who are able to overcome gravity once, can not do so a second time and so become trapped on worlds they were not born on, decreasing their life span even more and reducing them, intellectually, to being able only to mimic fearful and spiteful thoughts of animate creatures, if any, around them. Here on Earth it is why so many are associated with ugly and violent predicaments of the observer’s memories, be they fictional or factual. It’s only damaged, retarded, handicapped ghosts who humans enjoy being near and they are hated and often destroyed by other ghosts.
I must say, the few times I was privileged to witness this it filled me with great satisfaction- watching the off-spring of my enemy kill themselves. I took the day off and treated my self to something… but I don’t really remember what.
————–
Coitus with Jellyfish, Dinosaurs and Giant Three-Toed Sloths
Apocalypse of Abraham
23:7
His form is described as a dragon with hands and feet like a man’s, on his back six wings on the right and six on the left.
There have been countless generations of those created by god from his astral stuff, fathered by him and mother born by him only to be discarded instead of nurtured, abandoned instead of mentored, struck down instead of loved.
Those first angels imprisoned here with a corporal form were known as the Irin. They were partially sterilized (angelic tubal ligation to keep them inter-breeding with each other and overpopulating their environment and possible overpowering the one lone guard in the universe) with each other and their memories lobotomized (for want of a word meaning this done by god) but they were still sexual driven with voyeuristic intentions and copulated with ever creation on Earth.
At first with the fish in the seas and then,, as they wiggled out of the water and into the muddy banks, they fucked amphibians and in turn, reptiles fo the land and the air and finally those early mammals from shrew to sloth.
Their withered vulvas lamented a multi-millennial lack of use but their cocks sought out, penetrated and filled every orifice they could subdue with cast out, once celestial cum.
It was in this manner that all forms of what we call now ‘mythological’ creatures were created; all known forms of incubi and succuba as well as creatures from dragons to centaurs, satyrs, werewolves, zombies, vampires and a host of creatures who did not survive long enough to be recorded in the earliest of Earth’s languages, being older, even, than art.
They feed on each other for food and comfort and occasionally, like their grandfather eat their parents as well or alternately bred with them before consumption.
I have never tried, but I have a feeling angels probably taste very good. Certainly fucking them was said to be exquisite and superior to fucking any human, male or female- so I don’t see why theor meat should be any less superior and delicious- more able to build bodies 12 ways….
——————
our gods know no love
I tried to forgive myself
for those things which god could never mention-
for every word spoken from my prodigal cradle
to this place of early silence It’s
soft confinement and the nurturing of swords
for every promise broken
like Yah Weh’s abandoned children
for touching my mother’s breast before communion
or letting her watch my tongue
find freedom between a Black girl’s thighs
—————-
the evolution of biology is more exquisite than the birth, death and recreation of galaxies even the later depends upon the former. It is the end result, producing life, to the initial developing structure of elements and all they would become, stopping short at life, certainly a long shot from self-awareness.
And so the angels existed before time and out side of it. Unaware of future or change or even a interaction between the two.
Single cell life and it’s attendant relatives must have been as profound as the blind being able to see: and they desired union with all things and by accomplishing this, hastened and changed all life on my planet.
It is hard to know whether to thank them or despise them for what they have done here.
—————
andfuckandfuckandfuck until the It-god’s creations are all undone
gonna fuck you ‘till your eyes pop out….
NIV
Genesis 6:4
The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward—when the sons of God went to the daughters of humans and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of renown.
The malleable penis’ of all imprisoned angels slithered and crawled into all life which did likewise. Flew in to winged insect and swam into every creature buoyed up by the Earth’s water.
And their kind spread through the world and overcame the limited life It placed/allowed to live here and they developed quickly forcing evolution around corners and into cracks unthought of by It, well, maybe, but then again, maybe not.
I admit it makes my nipples hard and even (I would never say this aloud to other hunters) my cunt wet to think of angelic dick fucking giant sharks swimming over undersea volcanoes or wrestling the neck of a pterosaur as it flew over forests even angels had not walked through; the entwined twisting copulation of angel and snake and a dick half the length of a female pythons body, and dicks as long as 20 feet draped over the body of a whale floating upon the surface of the unnamed and as yet, unborn, Sargasso sea. Angel’s claws tearing the flesh of tyrannosaurus neck, cave bear neck, saber tooth tiger neck and Sonoran panther neck as perfect prick ejaculates and she-bitches scream with instinct pain and moan, growling, throughout a trillion uncountable nights.
When I think of this, and I, do more often now that I have turned the corner of middle-aged and am heading into the road of ancient one, and can’t stop touching myself or do it long enough and my own hand does not fill me enough and I think I am being called forth to an angel’s lair. Hypnotized, wet as spring wanting more and more and more
As, as, as hungry as dirt for any seed scratched in, blown in or dropped in damp with feces and ready to serve up fresh life. Sown by bird and beast and holy wind.
When I am able to finally satisfy myself with flanges or accouterments or a legion of human volunteers, men and women and the in-betweens, only one thought burns and haunts me.
Find them quickly.
Kill them all.
——–
seeing off the dead:
a pauper’s graveyard melody
wail on you silent grave-side alchemists,
(who have learned the secret sauce recipe of earth and time)
louder than pestle coffins and mortar angels singing;
soul stirring dicks
and crucible cunts-
you ragged remnants
you lost and wandering…
meet you in awhile
on the round wrapped wire
stretched from breath to decomposition
on power chords to Coolsville power chords to Coolsville
power chords to Coolsville
a big bang flashback
the void and beyond
I have seen too much death, been the harbinger and butler of too many grand endings, and still, as those I dispatched have become dust and smoke I have no idea whether there is anything other than ‘here’.
I hope to ask an angel sometime if I can disable it before killing it. One can always hope but it hasn’t happened yet. My suspicion is they haven’t a clue.
The god of all lies does like It’s secrets
‘In secrets there is power’- I should research this, it sounds too good not to have been written by someone before this day.
————–
base ten: the angelic metric conversion
I Enoch
Book of Watchers
6: 7-8
And these are the names of their leaders: Semiazaz, their leader, Aeakiba, Râmêêl, Kokabiel, Eamiel, Danel, Ezqeel, Baraqijal, Asael, Armaros, Batarel, Anael, Zaqiel, Samsapeel, Satarel, Turel, Jomjael, Sariel, 8. These are their chiefs of tens.”
They liked fucking monkeys the best- for comedic relief, watching those taller than average, shorter of tail fur face primates talk and mimic angels, singing songs about their god as though they were god, but most of all, the thing thy reveled in the most, was the utter carnage and unrepentant violence these spoiled species, torn from their original destiny, gloried in.
They would literal eat each other, even their own children while fucking them, limbs first, leaving the head and torso until the foetus emerged and then finishing off the birth parent, saving the offspring for a little in and out later or a shared snack with the angels themselves.
Yes, the monkey men were a laugh-riot-per-minute and proved much more difficult to exterminate than the dragons or satyrs of the distant past who were more dog-like, almost taming themselves for the attention and throw away tidbits of cooked food from those like myself- the New Man- the last toys/creatures dabbled with by God. At least, the last I know of. The employer doesn’t tell the janitor what’s going on in the boardroom.
We did circumvent evolution but no more than the creatures we were devised to liquidate. We were very good at it. The last of the dragons and centaurs and most of their related off-spring disappeared from Earth 60,000 years ago. The last of the holdouts were shipped to one of many rogue planets which circle this galaxy. If they can evolve fast enough, independently, to create space travel, they may save their species, if not,
C’est La Vie.
When the orbit of their Planet wanders to close to our cannibalistic Galaxy it will become the latest infall nosh. They get an undeserved genocidal space dust nap.
But then, everybody and everything is guilty according to the IT-god. Being rent into atoms and used as the seasoning for future planets is not all that bad-a-way to go.
——
beauty tips of sword carrying girls with dicks and boys with cunts
I Enoch
Book of Watchers
8:1-3
And Azazel taught men to make swords and knives and shields and breastplates; and made known to them the metals [of the earth] and the art of working them; and bracelets and ornaments; and the use of antimony and the beautifying of the eyelids; and all kinds of costly stones and all coloring tinctures
I always loved this quote as it is true of many hunters as well as the leaders of those we hunt.
We are a long lived species, those of us placed here to hunt. The second century is the hardest, the first fleeting quick and still surprising. The second kills as many as our foe. Few live beyond the their third century, the weight of the years is oppressive. The inability to have close friends or family oppressive. Dealing in death and dismemberment and secrets even more so.
And so, many of us succumb, unable to kill anymore, affected finally when a favored lover or extended family member is killed and eaten.
The knowing makes it no more easy.
We stand here, now, on this world possibly able to end the war after our placement here almost a hundred millenniums ago.
None of those I was to mentor have survived more than half a century and so I have decided to break the rule about disclosure which is the main reason for this diary. The background I have written seems scattered and ranting and I think no one will believe me but there is purpose for the risk and it is this:
I wish to indoctrinate H Sapiens into the war. This is their planet and it is questionable that the It-god will allow us to live if we ever accomplish our goal. It would be too easy to create a virus to kill only the specialized hunters when the task is completed and I have realized we live both with and without freewill- somewhat human, mostly human but also with a strong component of those earlier created angels bound to only serve and to never question an order or a deed. I admit it, I can not stop killing my enemy if within a certain proximity but I can resist the trail, the tracking of them and the planned ambush, alone or in tandem with other hunters. Yes, I glory in the hunt with my pack as much or more than alone and singular.
Let this be their war or let us combine forces with the remaining angels and kill the It-god, once and for all.
But then again, I can a argue against that idea and in favor of another even more daring plot
————–
I should have eaten the brown acid instead of this
Douay-Rheims Bible
I Corinthians
11:24-25
… Take ye, and eat: this is my body, which shall be delivered for you…
… this do ye, as often as you shall drink…
Jesus was a half-breed. An unholy mix of Cro-Magnon egg-blood and abandoned Angel cum. I wonder if he said the eat and drink me stuff and if it was a taunt to other humans, other hunters, to be brave enough and wise enough to take him up on the offer or decline. I have also wondered if those at the foot of his stick may have been splattered with his blood and were metamorphosed into something else and if so, was that the real reason the Romans leveled the Second Temple- looking for the unholy creatures, and not finding them, tore Judea asunder. I dunno, just a thought.
In any event, I took him up on his offer, or rather, I ate his cousin, albeit, in a different time and under slightly different conditions.
I have to admit it, I broke one of our few regulations or restrictions and tasted angel blood and yes, it was psychedelic in the style of lysergic acid diethylamide but now it has turned into something else, something I can not itch, a scratch of uncommon secrecy. And I feel myself aging more quickly than just a few decades ago. Perhaps this is the virus which is already in place to destroy us.
Am I an abomination now? Already I have thought of feeding angel body fluids to those in my pack but I have decided a wee-bit of research and observation are in line… before changing the line
And still, I want to stand on some temple roof with a megaphone in my hand, the other rubbing my clit and shout, “I killed Râmêêl, drank him dry and ate his eyes”.
I may be damned for sure so there is nothing keeping me from telling you this, the proper way to kill an angel. Their offspring with man, or rather with the species known as Cro-Magnon is the same as killing any H Sapiens or even us hunters. It’s not complicated and needs no special knowledge as most of Earth’s literature, entertainment and religions are devoted to extolling the process above all other information. Let it be known however they are a bit smarter than the home grown humans tending to the trash or snuggled in at home with their hate and jealousy and beer and reality television.
The human off-spring of angels include most, if not all, the famous characters of history; Imhotep, Solomon, Shakespeare, Einstein, Kubla Kahn, Lilith, Charlie Chaplin, Nelson Mandela, Jerry Garcia and Allen Ginsberg. The list could not be made in ten times my own life time nor could it include everyone born of an angel father, it began to far in the dim memory of an altered past and many of those children wanted nothing more than to dissolve into sameness. Too many knew the complications of their birth and none had human mothers as the very process of their uterine development sucked the very life from their host. The first born generations did not use the birth canals but preferred clawing their way through the womb and flesh to appear before many a astonished midwife and wet-nurse often time dispatching them on the spot but that has not happened in centuries and so the memory has become the myth of other creatures, the legend of other places and other tongues and the truth, like mist upon the peaks of Mount Hermon, retreating from an unfriendly and ignorant sun.
But again, I am rambling. Dispatching an angel is no easy task but requires no special tools or procedures- just the knowing how and the time to develop ones skills before actually confronting one.
To be perfectly honest it is difficult, as complicated almost as dispatching a vampire (those were the days but they have alas, been hunted to extinction though rumors prevail- seen in a cave in Indonesia, beneath a water fall in Brazil. Point in fact, as long as angels fuck lower primates there will be some form of vampire. FWIW). So, you better get it right or it will be yore name added to ‘The Long Song” – the record of hunter dead which no one alive has heard in entirety as it is too long.
Firearms, themselves, are insufficient and it is best not to depend on them but as a last stall they can buy you a minute or two before you yourself becomes the prey. I am looking forward to personal laser weapons in the near future and if they ever do become available to us this war will be won within a single human generation. I fear though (fear is too strong a word) that I will not be here when the time arrives. Oh well, I get the big dirt blanket and can only hope that if this war continues the last angel is killed and his blood spilled upon the earth cradling my bones.
Angels are fascinated with their own blood. Fascinated with watching themselves bleed. I have watched angels so perplexed and curious about it they collapse from the lack thereof. It should be noted, however, this does not damage them permanently- I refer to it a angel death level 3.
Angels can be pinned to earth or rock or tree by passing an object completely through their bodies: study their anatomy to determine the easiest points to pass through and avoid bones at all costs- few hunters have the strength required to swiftly penetrate bone and drive a blade deep enough to pin them in one stroke and that is what will be required. It is best if the exit point is just above the axis vertebrae as this severs the spinal cord and renders them motionless and if you are lucky, dead, level 2.
In any event, the head must be removed, the brains scooped out and deposited in the moving water of streams or rivers, seas or oceans. Pools, ponds and lakes are insufficient unless they are feed with and drained by a fast moving water way.
The bodies, after this ,decompose quickly and can be hastened with the usual quicklime or, every bodies favorite- fire. It is advised to not take trophies least they consume you. It is relatively rare but is known to happen and above everything do not taste them unless you are tired of living, of this I will testify as I already feel closer to it than I have ever thought possible.
Congratulations, if you are reading this then you have achieved angel death: level 1. Now, on to the next piece of shit angel.
———-
A lost seed and egg lament
Kahlil Gibran
He who does not see the angels and devils in the beauty and malice of life will be far removed from knowledge, and his spirit will be empty of affection.
You would think that a creature such as myself, possessing a matched set of fine looking and functional genitalis would be exceedingly fertile making babies and dropping babies with the frequency of a Mother of a Thousand plant, but nooooooo, that is not how it works in the real world, I am, we are sterile- no egg nor seed shall ever, from my body, touch the earth or pass beneath the sky.
It is one of the things I have envied about those we hunt- that angels can make babies even if they are forced to have inter-species sex because of the nasty, vindictive It-god, at least they can do that, even if their wombs are graveyards, their balls are as busy as a greenhouse.
I used to spend time with children, hoping it would somehow compensate my urge to have one or many. It was a nurturing, mentoring, para-parenting time for me, eventually punctuated by to many hunts or murder, maiming and general mayhem and I slowly began withdrawing. It hardly mattered- my withdrawal as breeder families and their spawn have short memories of non-family members after they no longer need to rent their kids in exchange for food and free babysitting. They become those who abandon, those who shun and eventually, those who have become the un-remembered (though hardly forgotten). My world has become smaller since I lost the last of my breeder friends
Children remind me now of kaleidoscopic hurt and I tend to stay as far away as possible.
It used to be difficult for me to terminate an angels child or a H Sapiens female made pregnant by an angel and obviously showing, but no more. As the self-loathing of myself grew, along with my contempt for angel seeders and human breeders I developed an uncanny knack of sussing out each with uncanny accuracy though, in the end, it gave me no comfort standing over another dead woman, her aborted child ripped out mutilated and disposed of.
There are some things, which should not be viewed, and which once seen, can not be unseen. They must be carried, however, even remembered, like a religious holiday gone wrong but righted, to keep from becoming mad. I have often wanted to ask angels if they felt the same way and if, possibly, it was the first step to just saying no to an angry creator It-god.
I have a feeling the answer is, Yes, but there is never the time before I have to kill them… or be killed by them.
——————–
don’t mark that beast-
the beast is already marked
Let it be known that ‘the beast’ is an angel of the It-gods own devise and creation. Their numbers are said to be uncountable, their presence scattered as far as matter and fledgling time.
Let the warnings and markings of their imprisonment be understood. Do not tread with bodies or machinery within one light year, those quasars exhibiting the telltale aura-blue of butterfly angel wings.
The electromagnetic spectrum of hyper-stretched ultraviolet light is the marker beacon of an ultra-violent angel prison. Old school angels who ravaged and raped the first universe, leaving behind atoms, chaos and the unborn void.
The wing signature is it’s emblem, it’s epitaph and it’s warning. Unknowing astrophysicists have marked it ULAS J1120+0641. The incarcerated angels within this place have been there for more than 13 billion years.
Tremble when you discover them and go there, not, or be consumed and abandoned.
——
a hard row to hoe
I am weary of life, this life, this version, therein, of life. I try not to think of what I am. There was a time when I tried very hard to fit in and my soccer mom or hardworking daddy provider pantomime was the best, Oscar award worthy but in time counted in generations I came to know it as merely subterfuge.
It’s hard to pretend to be a middle-class American with remnant angel tissue beneath you nails. Angel blood does not wash out in the laundry and the piled on images of centuries of their death, like slide memories saved to brag about ones summer vacation- unending relentless and fresh.
Once surgical skills and ability reached the desired technical acumen I decided to have my penis and scrotum filled with dead testicles removed. I paid large sums of money to have done covertly. To my horror, from my skin oozed a secretion which encased me, cocoon-like, anaesthetized me and healing my planned transgressions against my own flesh. When the cocoon crumbled and I reemerged I was ‘whole’ again, with no signs of the surgery.
Later that day I purposely cut off the end of my small toe only to experience the same thing.
I have no self-worth now save that preordained by my nasty piece of shit creator. I am not even sure I have free will any more than It’s first born, who, when I smell, make plans to kill
I suppose I should be satisfied with the ability to orgasm even if I can’t breed. It’s more than a lot of the angels have, or so they have confessed during their torture, prior to their further mutilation, dismemberment and eventual death. I was a curious worthless thing and wanted answers to my questions, not that it mattered one-fucking-bit.
For what it’s worth, it would be good for you to now I suspect angels of the same recuperative abilities. I have never seen of killed a maimed angel which is interesting because they will, on occasion, escape after capture. This I have seen. They have the ability, when under duress, to move in… there is no way to describe it but, in time, several feet in a blink while seemingly remaining immobile. It is how they escape when missing one or both legs or, say, half their face but not yet beheaded.
Pin them good, like the evil spiteful butterflies they are. Burn them quick and piss in their ashes
———–
the rabbit hole of god and holy ghosts
There was a time when I was a voracious reader and consumed hundreds of books between engagements and orgasms.
I read and read and bled and bled, living in the land of the dead and the land of cum.
Humans are so easily mislead, wanting to believe they are good and righteous and walking the right and proper road- doing what they were told to do, say what they were prompted to say and, mostly, close their eyes and their selves off to the world of the real, living, instead, in a world of fantasy and make-believe.
The world leaders, scientists and artist throughout history have been half-breeds, renegade angels still spilling the It-god’s beans about technology and science and a few, very few genetically pure modern humans.
This is certainly true of all the world’s religions whose leaders knew full well who and what they were but like good little Do-Bee’s toted the barrel and pulled that barge.
The world’s religion are both a distraction and social control, originally set-up to develop, train and control humans as a warrior force to obliterate the angels imprisoned here. A sort of morality play viewed only by the It-god and it’s hidden consorts (this is another story entirely and not one, even I, fully understand). This was a failure, homegrown humans were incapable of defeating even one angel in 10,000 years and so the It-god dabbled with cake mix, a little less vanilla; a lot more chocolate, that sort of thing.
We began with the animal offspring of the earliest angels, destroyed the original religious texts and tried redirecting them in the hope humans would begin to understand they were more set work than sentient creature, but to no, or little avail.
Moses, Jesus, Buddha, Shiva, Kali, Brahman, Mary, Judas, David, Timothy Leary were all part of the solution, though they had very dissimilar effectiveness. Interestingly, Mohamed was just a plain, ordinary human, bent and twisted by greed and jealousy- he became the very thing he despised, pissing off the hunters, the angels and probably the It-god itself (though I am only guessing). Yeah, a fucking fly in the ointment. The uppity monkey man with a sword and some words. Like I said, humans are so easy to manipulate.
From what I can tell it doesn’t matter what you do, who you kill or who you eat, just stay out of the way of strangers who do not smell ‘right’ and take whatever you can get for yourself and those who give you comfort and solace.
Those are god’s rules, those are the angels rules and those are the rules given to hunters. You humans would do well, for yourselves, if you managed to understand this. Perhaps you might survive this century, and with luck, the next.
—————
a new and better me
It is true, I feel faster, stronger, bad, badder, baddest and want to eat more angel meat. That, I think, will be a problem and I have surmised I should not.
I need to capture some H Sapiens and feed them some angel tartare as an experiment. Perhaps they become ‘us’ and for ‘us’ angels become a fountain of youth.
Oh, Ponce de Leon, eat your pathetic racist human heart out.
To tell you the truth I could fuck a city of humans and want to bathe in their cum and blood. I feel like a nasty little demi-god from the time of caves and ice.
This is going to work.
————-
NIV Bible
Hebrews 1:14
Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?
I seem to be recovering and actually feel better than I have for years, if not ages.
I have begun to contemplate a plot against angels and god. I intend to contaminate all the hunters I can reach with angel blood, and then, become a post-term abortion machine for the elimination of H Sapiens.
The real question is whether the angels will sacrifice themselves to finally end the war amicably with the purpose of creating an altogether new species, independent of the It-god and at least somewhat free of It’s restrictions and commitments.
Another thought has occurred and until now I have not really had the courage to commit it to more than dark daydream:
mix the genetics of all angels and all hunters, create an entirely new species, exterminate the humans and take the planet from them and then annihilate It-god and colonize the galaxy.
I feel insane making a permanent recording of any of this as I know it is my death should anyone discover it.
But deep down, between my perineum and navel I know this is the solution, this is inevitable and this is my purpose and destiny. The ends, the consequences the results, even my early death do not matter, only the trying counts, I think, maybe… but who knows. Perhaps it is what happens to hunters who live too long.
——–
roll over Beethoven
If the experiment succeeds I will call the new era of time. AAA, for, After Angel Absorption, and this is therefore, year one, of a new dawn. Year One in the Time of AAA
Go to the end of the line, Aldous Huxely, we are the Brave New World and we are going eat your ancestors… with the proper condiment, or course.
I had my attorneys do a leverage by-out of a cryogenic business. The equipment needs to be enlarged and slightly altered. The staff fired and science oriented hunters, as well as those few half-breeds who side with us, hired in their place. I figured I was going to need a place to store the remains or rather, the by-product, of my new endeavor, as well as a point of distribution for the product designed to alter the course of evolution, history and control of god over this galaxy.
————–
hunting for pleasure
I sniffed out an old one, Baraqija was his name, before time. I could fill a book with the people he became. One thing is for certain, he is now mine, pinned like an insect and kept alive to supply us with the raw materials of revolution.
I will bleed him like a pig and feed him like the King of Demons he is- all the human babies he desires. I will subvert him and convert him and in time he will be ours.
Angels are pragmatic, angels hate the It-god warden who imprisoned them here so long ago the stars which lit the skies then have died and died again to be replaced by their progeny of nuclear light.
Together we shall experience the death of no more stars before we see the death of this god who binds us here.
—————–
well that was a lot. I am not sure what to say about it. Hope you having a good morning. you should go see Arconsonti and Talismen West. Darcy will likeand it and I think you will also. they are both seminal archetects whose work and philosphy lived on long after the creator died.
Talk to you later. hope it’s a good read for you
hug and kisses
a
audre lee.airton@gmail.com. Press tab to insert.