deathful things
however many ways of indulgence, of destruction and waylessness i discover, however different methods of distraction, of amusement and recklessness i happen upon.. it happens that every surprise and satisfaction quickly grows cold and old to the next, each next becomes a burning ember - bright, intense and seeking ignition before burning out to ashes..
catching colds last night we drank to ashes, praising the dusty remains as they continue to hold power over us.. flakey, wispy and light as air, as purvayers of loss they cover everything with their filth.. wanting to get away, we sought illusions of desire thru a drunken and rainy night.. the faces are now lost to recollection because souls are empty and bodies meaningful only if made useful (and if by the grace of hell i may enjoy my superfiscial hungers i swear to scribe invitations to seekers everywhere)..

damnation, my tool of barter whilst i look for traders peddling evil ways. in striking contrast, i remember everything so clearly, every situation and encounter, every delerious acceleration into the oblivion beyond consciousness..
so at road's end she finally turns to me in hatred and spite, bitter for my means and enraged by my ways.. wanting to fuck but unable to find enough attention to commit herself to the desires immediate and at hand.. she prefers to moralize and internalize our inevitable predictiment and fails to miss the thrilling ride we are on.. dragging one another down it is amazingly apparent the faster we fall the less we struggle.. knowing we always would and screaming at the top of our lungs as descension overtakes our slipping minds.

narcotic syndroms plague me in these times of nightmare.. salvation speaks in lies and in tongues and is eluding my reason for the futility that it has no reason or logic.. broken in pieces, often are artifacts pieced back together and shattered again.. in similar ways, fevered sleep leads us thru so many paths, so many things occult and obscure are to be seen and understood yet the moments allowed us last fractions of seconds in duration.. our understanding becomes greater proportions of interpretation and lessening portions of consensual fact. 'forever' is the pillow our swollen eyes rest upon during these rushing waves of somnomulent terror.. we, casting aside all dresses and shoes, degrade quickly due to entropic lovers.. and haters.


my beloved, it is fellowship within the blackness i continue to seek from night time's vast dark & ruthless seas, it has been too many years since my arms wrapped around those familiar & lost souls.. my face next to theirs, my intentions congruent with theirs and at this moment my heart remains amidst our deathful things...
your motions are going to interrupt my thankless orgies with lilith & samuel.. get ready to fall baby, we are going so far down.  ¶
-setia writing @ 10:07 PM

       how all things pass with uncertainty
within shaking lines of readiness i find that a loved one from long long ago currently serves, imprisoned within the vast emptiness that is our legal system. my heart yearns in countless ways to set free the insanity currently deep inside a bubble of incarceration. ruin, hopelessness, desperation. these are the things you certainly consider while your evil & cruel gods deliberately place me thru motions to set you free. you will read this some day and be proud your efforts are paying off during these moments.. i only hope for you production, clarity and the strength that comes from your unfathomable abyss...

this slave ship rocks once more, our sides heaving - wretched in sickness and obssession... chains upon our legs are lead to deceive.. hours of tethered existance clicking aimlessly away at our hunger, our desire and thirst.. believing all may be ours for the taking is in itself unflawed.. it becomes exasperation only when our influence runs perpendicular to better equiped armies. we are understandably late, pride and the love of lovehate perhaps delayed encounters far too long that may have been universally profitable. you understand nothing and everything, i know you will understand these things.

sleep in feverish narcosis dear brother.. we are pulling what strings we can reach to spring you from your cage.  ¶
-setia writing @ 1:42 AM

       old stuff - written to beloved during night of july 4th 2002 after watching the fireworks show over elliot bay in seattle

i watched colored illuminations of rainbow spectrums invicerate the sky this evening, in every direction metamorphic images of light illusion filled my view, and I could not help but think of the similiarities between the ebbing flowing pyrotechnics and the infectious rate of discovery, of inspiration.
For every militant nationlist whose scope ecompasses only a country to serve and order to die for, there are thousands more whose ideology escapes the context of absolution and rigidity, where morphic resonance, past life regression, experience beyond the death of life lends greater intuition than all policitally emotional boiling speeches that have ever been spouted..
It is for that reason alone that fire serves us better than any other form of raw energy, only partially containable its combustion is unpredictable, greater than our sum and a wonderous manifestation of energy reborn, power unleashed. Inspiration, like primal energy itself never appears or disappears, it may only transmigrate from a single form to another form - multiplicity compounded to extreme exponants - an experiment whose evolution is at once unfounded, and unfettered.
If only for a moment may we recollect, the beginning never really began; and our fast approaching end is in fact no end at all.. all various stages in mutation that is driven by the Universe Herself.. Like the gorgeous flowers of pyrotechnics streaking across a clouded and soiled sky, like the repitition of art unfounded & unrealized, like the nationalist ferver of so many ignorant and misguided souls, inspiration at once is catching - a conflagration of messianic proportations.. burning in the hearts & souls and womb of all things living or dead.. like the mortor shells themselves, may we burn bright, brighter still.. short lived however our duration - this light will cast upon those around us and inspiration shall be sown as seed and infectious opportunity. It is not those who we touch that become our greatest audience, it is those whom we inspire to touch others that affirm and re-affirm our deliverance to this world.
  ¶
-setia writing @ 9:33 PM

       beautiful evil
what sense of evolution to do we carry when these masses are followers.. taking lead from another?
how must we carry this equilibrium of lust/desire and rationale/logic without spilling ourselves upon our very targets of attraction?
forever means starting at this moment.. this moment becomes and consumes all other moments.. forever contains this moment & never ends.. in wistful consideration, as each moment ungracefully slips from our grasp, we recollect that the strings of moments that we used to enjoy have since vanished seamlessly from our clutches.. a wholly distracting party has begun to end.. the dj will soon stop spinning and our recourse to mood enhancements dwindles just as candles running low of wick..
what determination is created from the moment it is discovered that we have no restraints, when it is realized there is nothing holding us back from our deepest darkest desires? it is perhaps and for that brief duration, the single most brightest spark in this universe.. it is a child who breaks free of influence and control when they realize there is no greater power than themselves, and they are greater than all else.. greatness leaves legacies thru unrestrained excess. should indulgence own everything we touch, or should we remain controlled by the aspects of our environment - creation being the blackest point of surrounding space? Desire lives forever, is created within every heartbeat, is taking us to terrifying heights and yes.. *promising us the world*




as often as thought of, memories are lured in by any means possible, escaping this mind to past years of pleasure, of desire and unquenchable yearning.. time has spun quickly; worlds turn over and loved ones die.. some things never go away.. T/those we used to struggle with become our greatest lovers, in all meantimes we bid completion and surrender in exchange for untold titillation..

we are fantastic in this struggle, always beautiful and radiant and enlightening. we assume this universe of knowledge and all accompanying misleading intentions... experiencing what we wish, taking when we wish, tasting whom we wish and yes.. *this world is forever our playground*

  ¶
-setia writing @ 10:01 PM

       every moment is of an angel
how incredulous we are, these illuminating points of brillancy.. spawned from each beautiful mind touched now.. and again. this enigma, this perplexity, growing in stature and grace yet unyeilding in its secrets and ways.. how incredulous we are.. unwilling to believe what we have seen or accept what we experience.
i saw shadows last night, waves of shades undulating thru miasmic convulsions as they traveled moonlit beams thru my window sill.. how fortunate am i to live within the spirit world.. the part that touches the real world and crosses these lines.
i stood upon the edge of this world, looking past endless clouds of commerece & dignity and i find revelation in the things that come to pass.. whether drunk or delerious, whether in denial or total acceptance of all things impossible its effects upon my spirit are the same. total, unmitigated, uncompromised astonishment. how so do we keep faith in tomorrow when today has exceeded all expectation and we are breathless to believe anything can be greater than what we have just witnessed..?
ahhh yes, the stunning epiphony of addiction returns to lay to waste all who witnessed turning of the leaves from ill besat ways to methods of higher repute. in mocking the intentions of all who have crossed this line, wishing to leave the past of one type or another behind, wishing to collect all debts owed from the previous life or from the forces most influencial within the previous life.. how steady we hold in discounting the chemically affected, or dependant. how easy it is to consider that at one point one may have never embibed, yet at another point one has embibed, but in conclusion it matters not whether one has embibed because once one has embibed we all have embibed and the intoxication revealed to us by one, manifests itself to all of us..
yet with purity at stake, how so denial then becomes such a reckoning factor and why so do we cast judgement upon the inhibition to do so...? is it at once considered weakness, or altered perception or perhaps there is an allotment of us who can no longer cope with the inabilities and consequences of this species..

"she is holy as all women are, and she suffers like a saint
yeah she took my hand with cruelty, but i was punished far too late
she's the mother of us all
she's the guardian of our sin
and the more she tries to save us
the more she pulls us in.."

*swans - universal emptiness*


damn us each and everyone.. virtual urgency displays so much demand that we must question: is there no solace for the wicked and greedy? cannot water be wrought from blood?
is there a place we may reach.. where nothing else matters, where only the moments of now.. the pleasures of each other and the desires of our secret lives are at once glorified and reveled.. no more to live of fear or denial, but of lust and reciprocity. here we see love is a crazed maniac who spouts beautiful poetry for the most dishonorable of intentions.

to be sure...
every angel, to every glorious & beautiful girl, to every saint whom i have ever known.. i bow to thee and forever am bound to thy service...
o diabolique celui, prends pitie de ma longue misere.


-we are one  ¶
-setia writing @ 8:38 PM

       the blackness
hearts heavy inside of deceptive bubbles which proxy all intentions and fears with equal measure.. we are forever alone.
within fantasy a mark may be made, remarking our position and orientation. i am lost to waves of emptyness encompassing this sphere.. even now, protective bubbles remain vigilant. an environment escaped from lunacy, embossed with uncertain promises and fantastic falsifications.
we are utterly alone.
hopelessness surpasses all expecations, running like a program we interprete and anticipate events along this well travelled path. we know of ebb and flow, of the cycles of death and creation. we are familiar with all aspects linear - as this linear existance has functioned this seemingly eternal fashion.
bright points appear along hullucinatory horizons, each beackoning as sirens do to worrisome saliors, deprived of sexual magic and social interaction for months on end. we forget the vast reach of this blackness, finding instead the flickering lights of candlelight to be visionary and prophetic. how else does entropy justify embrace, if not for the ravages of concern or care, or for the pain of loss and insanity of senselessness? we say this, for we are never alone, we are faithful to the power that beholds us.. intense in our aspects and correct in position & orientation. all things fall before us, we have embraced nothing.. and therefore have become everything.

it is agreed.
the blackness.



you have to believe how enlightened i found her.. young, filled with spirit and desire. her sense of things now and to come became my uncanny obssession.. easily a spring time turned into summertime of never getting enough of her fabulous energy, sucking every morsal of her perception, her insight and concept of this place... i lay awake so many nights then, now too.. thinking of her intensity, her power..
if you knew what i knew, you would understand why she is easily the singlemost beautiful soul amongst the sea of medocrity & mundanity. we saw her face in fire recently, saw in photo as well.. remembered that spirit and was filled with the sadness of longing.. this time away from sin city has been an adventure, one to close shortly as this legion of spirits is soon to return home.

michelle, la belle fille de lumière du soleil de père
  ¶
-setia writing @ 11:57 PM

 
devastation
my vehicle was broken into last night, too many nights of working too late & getting up too early in the morning spawned a child of complacency, this child left my briefcase of software CDs in the car last night and now they are gone. a broken heart and hunger for vengence greeted me this morning, self deprecation set in as i never leave my cd's in my car (and know better). i reported to police it was about $4500 worth of software, most of it cracked but i said so just the same.. as i drove away this morning, sitting on broken glass & watching shards fall from the doorframe, i saw two other cars w/ smashed windows.. saw several garbage cans which had been set on fire and other signs that some juveniles walked down my street leaving destruction in their wake.
software is replacable, my heart is heavy with sorrow and loss because my only backups of code written during the vegas years had been placed into that briefcase several days before. i can replace software, but writing new databases, web apps & front ends will take time.. i'm not even in an environment where such are needed anymore.
yes, sadness.. despair.. tremendous loss. these three are the only prostitutes i will afford for tonight.  ¶
-setia writing @ 7:35 PM

       love
my eyes misted with sadness, it was the turning light of morning.. the final sign nighttime has ended, submitting to the effects of daylight.
i saw him thru new eyes, different now from when nighttime was young. unable to help myself, i find i am cupping his relevance in my hands, breathing better life into scathed limbs and unforgotten promises.. cursing myself, i realized why all things turned the way they did, we both fell prey to distraction, losing ourselves in immediate petty incidents, never realizing that all things change.. and nothing lasts forever.. and whatever we take for granted now becomes what we painfully miss later.
eyes burning, we feel a picture of lost words.. abandonment offset by the truest intentions to do what is mutually best, yes.. we reminisce our moments of palm trees, quick money and illusions of limitless pleasure all the while our cancer, becoming greater than all others, instigating untold hours of indulgence and severence.
As Prophet Margins collect all which is available.. intended to subsidize hopeless dreams and their sellers who finance future lies.. we can only hope for a greater nobility, a class of being beyond desperation or mania. as faithful servants, we are to only expect toil; and pardon.  ¶
-setia writing @ 12:21 AM

       chimera found
in these days, our darkness shines with the experience our paths have lent us, we relish in the same old wounds that have produced so much wisdom..
as we stand, a pinnicle corrupted by the knowledge of this universe, a-sway with guilt for knowing is participating, and when participation fails to profit we are party to liability.. our shadows mix with moonlight giving birth to new species of spectres and other spirits.. innocent in these motions yet historically destructive in our means.. yes we have come so far from how it used to be...
the hungers from long ago linger, their blood taste never leaving mouth or mind... denial as our lasting refuge.. afterall, sanctuary is sought only by those wishing to hide from what pursues them..
before our eyes the dragon forms, its shapelessness mutates smokevapor and becomes relevant.. it is only when we reach for this manifestation that its form becomes formless and our vision vanishes with disappating smoke.. we are among the damned who have no regrets.

the Angels (cruciform)

Rubella, my love, some say we shall overcome
But the sickness bites hard
And yes, the razor's old

Their poisons braced in surrender
Killed every first born son

We were kneeling, dressed for burial,
Reaching for the knave
Heard voices laugh in the spirit at the
Plight of the living dead
A ghost at the bottom of my glass
Made it clear what they had said
"His devil's hear in a tinder-box,
this dog has turned away"
Well, I can't remember god when I'm...
And I'm drunk all day


Before I leave you, bring the demon's on
Your beauty sleep brought to mind
A fever hung on the mid-wife's jaw

We were kneeling, dressed for burial,
Reaching for the knave
Heard voices laugh in the spirit at the
Plight of the living dead
A ghost at the bottom of my glass
Made it clear what they had said
"His devil's hear in a tinder-box,
this dog has turned away"
Well, I can't remember god when I'm...
And I'm drunk all day

Some said I was wrong to dream that way
And some made light of death and sorrow
But death is glory...now
death is glory...
NOW

-r.williams


remember?
i recall always, the visions we used to share, i remember every time we became one, every time we connected deeply.. i recollect the way our shrines used to burn brightly and how power flowed rapidly.. they flash across my mind's eye daily..
i can never forget the intoxicating influence of your presence.. how pure & vast your energy is.. your inclusion in my dreams is my consumate reminder of how quickly i need to be back within the city's power.. and back within the radius of your reach.

everything makes sense now. within these moments of clarity, i continue to be surprised at how much more you were aware of than i was..

    6
27|13  ¶
-setia writing @ 12:23 AM

       arguements for solipsm & consenual reality
1) the consideration that nothing can be argued to exist as it is mere perception or that the context of ones perception only applies to that one and no baseline from which to control is at once a helpless and powerful perspective for one to inhabit is flawed in my opinion.. the masses who are ignorantly blissful believe that their perception of this reality is the only perception, thereby indoctrinating a narrow view imprisoned thru egocentrically tinted glasses. Would this be in fact, then arguement would be moot as egocentrism begets uniformity which disallows conflict, differed opinion and any other form of devation.
2) a method which is defining our reality, sworn in ambiguity and applied to the masses liberally.. consensual reality says technology works only because we believe it, that physics apply only because we are taught so.. and the process of invention is truthfully a method to find mass acceptance into new ways of thinking..

I reject both demonstrations, finding that they account only for what one knows.. factors that define one's perception of reality, they disallow that real forces are at work in ways human thought cannot understand.. they ignore the variables of all things unknown, of chance and occurring coincidence.. unable to recognize we are small pieces in a very very large linear scale, fractional in comparison.

i appeal to the brilliant points within these masses, who know they are a part of something greater than what is promoted to us as being.. those who cannot deny the basis hunger for all things pleasure and otherwise, is truth.. to really know, experience and understand..
it is time we reach out and touch these things, aware that there is a larger equation responsible for our surroundings.. the confidence to effect real change upon the unchangle.. to have the unhave-able and touch the untouchable.. the power is in desire, the force behind all things within perception is desire.. the desire for success, lust for sensation.. obssession with legacy.. these things are the real forces behind progress and innovation.. the hunger that there is always more, therefore we will never find contentment in this place.. rather we will strive to constantly better who we are and the place we live within.. as it is our nature.

One argues one creating reality around themselves is the working model of consensual reality, as strong will or belief defined the meaning of reality..
i however understand that consensus has nothing to do with anything.. because the strongest willed will always control what the weaker experience and consider...  ¶
-setia writing @ 11:34 PM

       Desert sand
these endless miles stretch in all directions.. hot and illusionary, my vision is deceived by daylight and by night air.. so i come.. this desert, this beast whose voice calls to me.. this arid wasteland that holds so much magic, has captured my imagination and sensory perception..
a summer moon, pale and crescent in an empty sky.. my flesh turns translucent by its polorized light, my blood hot and passionate.. eyes wide and senses sharp. i am an island of psychic energy alone within this eternal landscape.. ghosts rise with the night heat, their roots firmly planted warm warm sand, their music pulling me away from safety, luring me out to the utter depths of this animated, emotional, moving and restless land. smoke comforts my soul, its secrets tied in twisted knots that appear as smokevapor for the shortest moments, before curling & contorting themselves into nothingness.. i burn what i can, creating a circle of candlelights around me, their flickering dances continue to invoke, to evoke spirits of a stronger type.. a darker type.. They play in the ashes above me, chasing one another thru streams of entropy & timelessness, my thoughts are carried away by Them performing a complicated oriented and well rehearsed ceremony involving song, dance & dedication, making magic of nothing and fantasy out of realistic void.. i shiver as each spirit passes thru my mortal flesh, one steps thru me -then another, my stomach sinking i close my eyes and hold onto what i can while their dizzing, nauseating movements turn from trickle to flood as innumerable 'dark ones' pour thru my openings, moving like a rushing flood, forcing their way to the outside..
i am alone, within this Desert's clenched fist.. its parental instincts lend first to crush me, then to revive me and prolong this wonderfully terrifying experience. Death surrounds me as my candlelights of burning debris fade to bleakness, their lives cold and spent from performing a sequence to bring about our powerful, controlling, ensuing Father. His eyes now full of glare high within this nighttime sky, twin sharp points of burning hellfire shining brightly in Night's deepening sky, i am comforted by this rush of power, and grip the desert's floor as information containing imagry & emotion & vivid sensation & unforgettable revelations overwhelm my soul reducing me to tears of gratitude and severance..
i'm leaving everything behind for this Desert, i belong to it. i desire so badly to be back in the company of those burning eyes and feeling the forces, hungry & desperate in their true forms, flowing thru my veins.. my heart and soul aware of the perception of the beginnings and ends in sequential time from a perspective that is without time.. i tasted the secrets of this universe, i knew everything for the briefest moments..
*sighs wistfully*
oh love, i humbly submit my intended subscription to be back within your comforting, visionary narcotic arms again.
  ¶
-setia writing @ 7:06 PM

       mania
in utter reverence for the things we cannot see, our faces shining in delicate moonlight turn upwards with solumn expectation.. we embrace the things that have already come and eagerly await the things yet still to arrive.. we whose damnation speaks so highly of skill & talent, whose self made disasters are considered in certain circles as the greatest acts of performance art ever.. a specifically performed sequence that stretches years back and continues to loom years ahead of this point..
oh, our precious embrace, fortitude or deception - randomly arriving before each other, glides our weary heads to such descrete lulling.. us asleep and rarified by your hatred and reason.. eyes still turn in lucid dreaming, and turns toward your faces.. besiding ourself with eagerness our prize cannot be more highly spoken of, so we lay prostrate in resignation.. our unseen things saturating our very core.

the true revolution is in mind;
remember that and all else shines!
-r williams  ¶
-setia writing @ 3:03 AM