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MY BOOK on religion written by me with my cousins ideas


Dec 13, 2013
Instinctual Variant
On Joy!
My thoughts: Conker’s bad fur day is my psychology, David Denis Stepchuk
Know Thyself, ask yourself who are you, while reading it?
On Human Nature
Human nature is like walking among trees under the blue moon stumbling upon a bulging deer at the river bed next to the raging currents, the deer is barely alive, a weeping willow towers over it and out bursts several rats creating a crater running in a scattered pace in several different directions towards nevermore. Vultures come from the silhouettes to devour the carcass. I contemplate what it means to be human in the pits of sheol as I stare in amazement and bewilderment at the eternal vacuum that is the soul. What is human nature, what is its function, why is it misunderstood? Join me as I shine a light behind the shadows to reveal the beasts lurking there. Life is hard and people are difficult, I will stand up with the mythical gods of life and death and explore the time continuum that is the confines of my heart.
Jump into the realm of the spiritual, and you’ll realize that what you call reality is nothing more than a parody, a materialistic parody that is reflected by the idealism of a board of Gods, incompetent Gods that seek out to make the world a better place, of angels and demons, of magicians and detectives, an enchanting, ever-changing world of sunlight and fog. A never ending wooden, creaky bridge carrying across the river into the depths of a waterfall for eternal life in the fog is a sublime hope of stability and routine, to get off the bridge that cannot possibly hold the people that it is carrying, in the past was hellfire and games, watching the world burn. In the future is lions sleeping with sheep, a world of no pain and peace, but in the present all we have is hope a hope, a semblance of the eternal as we watch the glimmer of sunlight in our path and the background of silhouetted trees in the dawn of morning. The spiritual world if we are to look at it through the lens of Christ, the way, the truth and the life is of course not being ran by incompetent Gods but by the perfect triune being, the God hood, as death peers into selfhood, the spiritual world is a world of enchantment, were prophets are charioted away into the timeless, and the spirit talks through burning bushes, not in mirage, or hallucination needing the beholder to take risperidone but through the same power of the resurrection and freedom of the Jews through the splitting of the red sea and the sealing of the powerful Egyptian army, in this destruction there is freedom such as there is freedom in the cross and resurrection of Christ. The snake will not toy with us as the bites of the snake did not have power over those that looked upon the bronze snake for healing, but the snake of Eden is yet in his trickery and deception ways. There is hope and will ever be hope.
The Problem of Pain: An Essay on Theodicy
A Reflection on my own suffering mind: As I stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back into me and I am full of remorse. I am an amateur apologist and even worse off theologian yet I feel a need to write an essay on the most difficult of theological issues, that of pain. In pain is the resurrection, the resurrection of a dead author by his creation, in the library between reality and the mythical, that of the overseeing, omnipotent eye of random chance. In which in times it seems that we live in a book called the Bible, and we need God back into a purposeless culture to answer the question. Or find purpose when our faith seems stupid. In random chance is the holistic whole of Hegelian dogma and Kantian imperatives. This is not a man creating himself into a voodoo doll, pretending to overdose himself with mountains of heroin in the room, only to self-discover that he is not the antichrist while his comrade takes the battery out of the hospital monitor. Making someone glitch into the equation of E= MC^2 * S=Q(1/T2-1/T1). In the hypothesis of the law of thermodynamics, being turned into the consciousness of probability comes the rail tracking of the abused mind by trying to reverse discord, that of disorder, into order, the animate, into the inanimate of rocks. The reversal of a VCR tape as if it is to be found in the pornographic images covering up the senior prom, by having a dream of spaghetti. Not only is it possible for libertarian free will. One must decide what is truly possible to reconcile in this world without going into pseudo-science or the verse of the magical. The magicians conjuring as they make wine into water. We are sentient, conscious beings, and I believe to understand the problem of pain we must discover that we are sentient beings in the greater biological organism that is the corporative state of nature. The sphere that is everywhere and the circumference of nowhere as in the words of pascal will not show up, as time itself is not circular but transparent. A figure of speech. A random conglomeration of events as if it was a collogue on Pinterest. The tiger devours me, yet I am the tiger, the raging river drowns me, yet I am the river, time flows through me, yet I am time, I am the stillness of a leaf in a puddle, as the child splits the earth worm only to discover gene splicing. Know thyself.
1. Who is GOD?
2. What is Human?
3. The Problem of Sin
4. On Redemption
5. Eternal Life

1. Who is GOD?
As any Christian layperson will tell you, God is all knowing, all seeing, and all powerful. The figure of predisposition in the fog. The archetype of the self-conscious. The figure we need to empty out our ego to as he fills us with his I through the Holy Ghost. the feeling of goosebumps we feel when we traverse from earthly Hell, to purgatory, and then into HEAVEN. The teenager traverses Limbo, the mental state of confusion. We can know that GOD is spirit and is never confused. Traversing our landscape like the wind and speaking everything into existence through the word. Through logos. Our most significant thought patterns should focus on nature which will properly open up our optical lens to the majesty of God. Yet the problem of evil arises. He is a loving triangle of the Holy Ghost, Jesus and the Father, he is three in one and one in three without divulging in the unsettling effects of the Bermuda. Yet he is in himself infinite and yet the problem of evil arises. From the genocides and slavery to the Bible to the deaths of children in the modern times, being tortured by their loved ones or having cancer, where is God in all of this?
Sadly, I don’t have the answer, the determinism of the brain in the syndicate of acting on the machinery algorithms of the neurons cannot possibly answer this question. As there is more to it than our nature or nurture can properly answer. The reality of the situation is that most of the pain imposed on human beings is done through human hands. The will of fate will have the stoic bow a knee and God is the vitality of the all being the alpha and the omega. It takes humility to discover that God gave his only son to take in the sin of the world so our sins can be forgiven. To the point of us disliking sin so much that we can’t help but dislike the unforgiveness of the philistine. The drenching of Christs blood in the day of tribulation. The basin is not going to save us what will save us is a renewal of the heart. The heart can only be renewed through the understanding that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and that wickedness will not be reconciled with holiness. That there is no need to escape because we have hope, our hope is in Jesus Christ. We are bondservants. Our souls belong to Satan and yet Jesus Christ has us covered, through his blood. We don’t need to tarnish or seer our conscience through collecting deeds and wills in order to satisfy the devil. We simply accept Christ as our Lord and savior. We do not need to feed in the blood sacrifice of legion by tarnishing ourselves anymore. We simply give up our I to the eternal. As the finite gives up to the infinite, yet it is a part of it. God is looking at us to make a change, to make a difference in our surroundings and step up. To grow up and challenge the evil of the world by taking on the flag not of surrender but of justice. Not of simply category imperatives and making the woman bleed because she thinks she is a doll, but in the psychological evaluation of the healthy mind being renewed by God. God gave us his word so we can do the right thing. The genocides and slavery where not that of the modern-day context. Not even that of vengeance but of retributions. What else is there to do in the day of children being sacrificed, or the depravity of earthly sociological Hell. America slavery was nothing like that of Israel, America slavery was that of torture and humiliation to the point that the only merriment found was in the African American singing songs and dancing or that of fighting back like Frederick Douglas did or the movie Django Unchained. Israelites were bondservants. Just like in modern day America, people that where in debt to their creditors. This has been a trait of ancient civilization. That of the forking paths of the different classes in time immemorial. Let’s also not kid ourselves in the thought that the founding fathers based their freedom of religion and the state and their writings on their religious beliefs as they based them on the native Americans who were wise and learned to reconcile all tribes while the original immigrants where criminals sent to America that learned from the Native Americans only to be revolutionized and evolve to the state of freedom that we have today. Not that of the bishops praying and hoping in divinity but the love of nature. With that being said we know God because he first knew us and we have a relationship with him because he wanted a relationship with us. God is with us.

2. What is human?
I have always been fascinated with humans, their nature, their whims, their passions, weaknesses and strengths. From a man leaving Christian ministry to try to make himself the spirit of death by blowing out his temple. To the young adult not being able to commit suicide no matter how bad the situation at home is. We are traversed into nothingness yet we are everything, nothingness itself is an ontological something otherwise it will have no claim to be an area of destination. A noun as much as it is a verb. God breathe life into us, we are sentient objects, in need of relationship, friendship and love, yet loss, heartbreak, death is all good for us. We live through it but we don’t need to fear it as it reconciles us to the stratosphere of the eternal. In pain is the tragedy comedic, the ability to experience life as it is now. As Hamlet said “to be or not to be”, or in modern terms “To exist or not to exist”. Yet it leaves psychological scars, such as a woman putting her child in the oven for disobedience, as if she was the witch from Hansel and Gretel. The statistical factual anomalies hunt the mind. Yet most parents don’t give up their child to the rapist or murderer for a lesson in reformation but do it through positive behavioral methods such as positive conditioning or giving them the freedom to learn and discover for themselves. Without the need to grow up into the absurdism of Camus, where Sisyphus is rolling up a rock for all of their life span only to discover the absurdity in it as the jester switches shoes the opposite direction and turns his pants front to back in order to devoid the monster of its senses. To that of the nausea feeling someone experiences in existential angst as they realize that most people put on a face to fit their circumstance instead of being their true self. Viewing people being corporate slaves, a cog in the machine. Drunken dollar signs. We must realize that the I is the biggest hurdle any human can experience in the face of tragedy, as I originally said in this essay, I stared at the abyss, and the abyss stared back at me leading me to feel remorse. there will be retribution to the unrepentant soul here on earth and in immortality. the soul will tarnish and be destroyed as the Christ said “do not fear the one that can destroy the body but the one that can destroy the soul”. Everything works out in the end for the believer as there is love in the heart to face any obstacle, hope for a better tomorrow and faith that today will handle itself. The delusional nature of mankind is to be feared yet there is friendship within each one of us and within us as we are reconciled with God.
The question rests now what we must be saved from and that is what the next part will go into that of the problem of sin. We go through a process of purification from that of impulse, hatred, reality, softening, fusion, and finally reconciliation with nature, one another, ourselves and with God.

3. What is Sin or the problem of Sin:
Sin may be defined in two different ways either that of transgression against God or that of missing the mark. It comes from the story of Adam and Eve. When the first humans decided to eat from the tree of good and evil rendering them from free spirit discoverers discovering that water goes downstream, and that reptiles lay eggs. To conscious beings, beings that are now capable of reflecting and seeing into the seascape of the abyss. Not only into discovery and hard work but that of being capable of being evil. Rather this epic story is seen in the literal contextual lens or mythology. If the latter we can say that the notion of evil or sin came with the mitochondria eve, and sin with the priests of a tribe of prehuman ancestors and later on in the whim to please the discovered gods from fire or to give them rain. I take the literal view of creationism, but as can be discovered sin comes from the notion of good and evil, an animal lives by its laws. By the law of nature, and even if a lion can speak to us in human language, we would not be able to understand him as Wittgenstein said, there is a language barrier between us and other forms of beings in nature, an experience difference and a mechanistic difference, creating a divide. With us as the head but we are still a part of the greater organism that is nature. We are the beneficiaries and the management team and we should not spoil it with carbon dioxide emissions and coal burning or poaching. Nevertheless, we must be able to commute and get around, but not in the sacrifice of others. Sin comes from pride and the curiosity of the God complex which the snake had and so does our inner snake. The part of the brain that lives on impulse or calculated malice. We must not be deceived by it but allow ourselves to be emptied out like a vessel and be filled by living water. To be shaped by the potter whom is God. Sin brings in the death wish. The spirit of death, in the sail boat that is life within the greater vortex of time, is nothing and everything. We have nothing to lose by turning to God and everything to gain, yet it can also be seen as nothingness will engulf and unsettle the mind leading us to become a tabular rosa, the reflection of the worldly, without a sense of identity, negative combability. Sin leads to death and therefore the cost of sin is the death penalty, it is a suffocating fog of cluelessness and unlove. a place where love cannot exist, since God is love, we need God for us to love, and the redeeming qualities of his sacrifice on the cross for all of mankind, though our nature is able of liking one another or even doing favors it is a scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours, with altruism mixed into the soup of life. We need unconditional love and sacrifice, even to that of the cross which can only come through faith. the lions are coming, martyrdom of the saints in the gaze of the Madonna. Without it we are kind at our best, maybe even charitable but lost, confused, and corrupt, always willing for the bad and doing the good. We have inherent wickedness within us. The sin gene if you must that leaves us with blame and bad faith. Hypocrisy if we don’t go through the process of purification or as some call its sanctification. To become more like the image of Christ, through a gradual, grueling process but the yolk that we are meant to carry is made easy through Christ and due to his sacrifice and love for us.
We begin living by impulse, thinking that we are doing the best we can do and the right thing, through our inherent moral compass. God has written his law in every heart, the law of nature. When we fail, we become full of hatred for ourselves, and others. We wake up from our solipsism of subjectivity into objective reality and begin to notice the true stance we have the nature of El Shaddai and the earth around us. We then begin accepting forgiveness and realizing the faults with our previous rationalizations of putting the creator in equal footing to ourselves and see the face of our sin for what it truly is and begin to soften up. We fuse with nature, our loved ones and ourselves doing what is best for the better good instead of rebelling against nature and we learn the truth of ourselves as we melt, our ego breaks as if it is drowning and in comes the new being. The Christ like being, the born-again Christian that will spend the rest of his life being sanctified. This is the gradual process of conversion, and we must come to terms with it and must self-realize and become more beneficial to the community by doing our best to be a contributive part in eliminating pain and bringing others to repentance. As Jesus Christ said you knew I was in prison yet did not visit me, knew I was hungry, did not clothe me, was hungry did not feed me, was in the hospital yet did not go to see me, this was paraphrased in my own words. The point is what we do for each other is and the least of us is what we do for Christ and will all contribute to our identity in the kingdom of God.
There is the problem of Children suffering and what we do with that, to tarnish a young soul, it would be better to be dead then do so. As Jesus Christ said it would be better to have a boulder tied around your ankle and thrown into the sea them mislead a young person. Also, that the kingdom of God will be for those with childlike faith like the child, a curiosity that can’t be quenched, so doing anything to the maternal connection of a mother and child, or to a child’s well-being in the Ivan Karamazov sense of human suffering is punishable with death or the promise of Hell. With that being said all of our accumulative experiences if brought to the hands of a loving elder can create fortitude and strong resolve in those that have had an impoverished childhood or life. There is hope in you yet. On the topic of cancer in a young human being, it may possibly be reconciled with the answer of God saving the young soul, and letting their lives speak for itself if not raised in the Christian household or receiving the revelation of true faith.

4. On Redemption
My childhood notion of the world was that of a separate metaphysical subject from earth. I conceived it as a voodoo doll that needed its eyes plucked out through the biological concept of the bottleneck effect. The Khan Academy defines the bottleneck effect as “the bottleneck effect is an extreme example genetic drift that happens when the size of a population is severely reduced for an example a natural disaster.” I had taken the black pill by the age of eight, and by twelve used the alias soft dick to use soft porn to create hard-core proofs, that were anti-establishment. To fight against the symbol of rape, for the benefit of rape victims and the modern-day incarnation of Joan of Arcs’. This was done after reading Fallen Leaves by Vasyli Rozanov at a nearby church library. That philosopher is known for writing in prose and trying to prove and propagate the idea to get closer to our spiritual side we need the idea of sex, in it. I was a book of contradictions. A walking paradox, an ever-evolving spiral towards the road of liberation, with the aesthetic of parody. I both feared and was fascinated with the concept of the voodoo doll and being able to swap segments of your spirit and soul with a life form, for example a homunculus. To escape the pains of eternal damnation, and therefore becoming trying to become one since child hood, the idea of transfiguration, of the marionette becoming a real boy since childhood. This was all coated with gnostic turpitude.
The key phrase in all of this is the road to liberation or in other words that of freedom. I would feel guilty for desiring a bottleneck effect in the limelight of modern events if it wasn’t for Jesus Christ in my life and the notion of purpose in all of the pain and suffering. Which is up to each individual to reach the conclusion too. My conclusion is that of the events of COVID19, the antifa riots and the Ukraine war, opening up our eyes as to how we are using our resources and the events brining us all together. Still the world remains ‘Satan’s domain, even though it can be argued as Leonid Andreyev did in his Satan’s diary that man can one up Satan in deception, in this particular example that of using an airhead to trick Satan into thinking she is the Madonna. A loose woman that knows all the right things to say, and Satan giving up his fortune to the idea of being married to her and for her benefactor to be able to blow up the world of uranium, Satan is not a king without a head. So, if Satan’s domain is the world and God’s is the church with God having created the universe, what is the point, what is the point of not simply pinching hallucinatory demons away or trying to control them rather it is our fear of them or to use them to our benefit. in the poshlust that is the simplicity of religion. What is the point of knowing about sin, and falling into the shadow of death? How do we go about life without feeling guilty? if we have inflicted pain on another, or how do we reconcile with pain. In a dark space of our mind, the eternal sphere which circumference is nowhere, the idea of God since ancient civilization becomes a labyrinth, a complex maze in consciousness? There is redemption knowing that no matter our history, our baggage’s, the skeletons in our closet, or that of emotional wounds we can know that Christs blood covers all and there is no reason to be ashamed that we will be redeemed on earth. Even though as the Bible points out here on earth through the poetry books and books of wisdom we will always be in eternal conflict with good and evil, there is an everlasting joy in the heart of the believer. Rather in ignorance or malice, we may be redeemed if we repent, and we may find joy. To be reconciled with earth and man, and become a shining example of the goodness of man. If apostle Paul can be transformed from a dead pharisee that persecuted and tortured Christians into an evangelist for the Christian faith, that shook the foundations of belief itself through an encounter with Christ it can be assumed that so can we even if the encounter was just with the sun’s rays and temporary blindness, the soft gentle voice shook him inside out to becoming one of the great Christians of history. We too can say that we are bondservants that are redeemed through Christ. We won’t be redeemed here. As a childhood story goes that I wrote as a child concerning Nakita, whose street name is the Dancing Devil. A woman that pretended to be wasted drunk only to carve swastikas on those that tried to have their way with her. Which come from Buddhistic emblem of peace onto man for attempting to rape her or actually being raped, to warn other women about these corrupt men even if they come off as nice guys. They have the corruption of sin in them and only when they take full responsibility for their actions and sin can they be awakened. There is no redemption to be found but only a noir semblance of making your own path, your own destiny, to the walk of death, only Jesus Christ can redeem us and redeem others.

5. Eternal life
This segment will be broken down into three parts, Hell, Planet Earth, and Heaven. Eternal life is not a duration of time but living in the present with God forever lasting in timelessness or without God, without love. The idea of having to burn in Hell and knowing that I can be purified and go to Heaven, to be redeemed from my sinful self leaves me in goosebumps. I feel cold thinking about Hell, and then with the encounter of salvation goosebumps go down my spine. The art of transfiguration. In example the time Jesus turned white as light to speak to Moses and Elijah and the disciples witnessing it. Or King Nebuchadnezzar witnessing a fourth man like that of the son of man in the fiery furnace.
1. Hell: I personally dislike the fact that allot of churches indoctrinate kids into believing in God through the concept of Hell. A Hell that puts fear into the child’s mind, a fear that is not only unsettling but crippling but infectious, a parasite or a virus of the mind that can leave the young person crippled for the rest of their life, living in anxiety. A life of inaction. Believing in God only due to fear instead of genuine faith this is what is coined as bad faith. I personally don’t know how Hell is going to be, but it can be said that it won’t be like the depictions of old. It will be a retributive place where the soul will be destroyed. A place without love and holiness as it will voided from God. It will be a place of darkness. A place for those that brought cruelty, asinine pain unto others for their own pleasure. A place that is forever in the present, and ghostly, ghastly and eternal. A place that can help the hearts of the inflicted and their families. Even if they don’t want to be reconciled with the pain or forgive can know that there will be divine, sovereign justice at the end. A hope that comes from God, a hope that the sum of all equations doesn’t lead to hopelessness, or that of religious poising, that of the cult leader speaking to his group from the grave but of a truth in sanctification and hope. In a hopeless situation, the two perpendicular lines meet in the infinite revealing the truth of the temporal human life and giving the answers that our hearts sought after her in this existence on planet earth. A light amidst the fog.
2. Planet Earth: We must toil the land. hard work not only kills time but brings us closer to God. In the idea of life on earth we must realize that we must safely guard it, protect it and not ruin it but the eschatological sum will come from human hands. There is the question of people dying from nature, and bugs leading to illness, but both the bug and the person are living under the law of nature and the laws of nature are what direct us and control life. With the Bible giving us guidance throughout life, and the ability to know God and his love for us and his creation. A great book on the dichotomy of good and evil in mankind’s relationship with nature and will against it, the friction of conflict, is the Black Spider by Jeremias Gothelf.
3. Heaven: Heaven should never be seen as paradise for the lucky. As if it was trip to the Bahamas for those that won the golden ticket. Or a place where there is only worshipping of God as God looks down upon the millions of people soaking it all in, “yes, worship me, I did create you after all didn’t I and I loved all of you except for the LGBT”, God isn’t an unwanted party guest, that walks and pouts around waiting for someone to praise him. It is for our own benefit to live in thanksgiving as it warms the heart, and leaves the mind in peace. We must come to realize that Heaven is a place of love, and holiness and that worshipping includes so much more than simply singing hymns and playing the harp with angels it is a place to be reconciled with ourselves and others as we are finally redeemed. In the ultimate Joy, the greatest blessing of all that of being reconciled with the one who pained with us and basked in our blessings, the love of God.
With all this being said it can be argued that we lose consciousness after death and reverberate to a life like the one we had before we came to earth. That the animation of the heart stops, and all is back into the abyss. Yet the spirit is discovered in the blood, the life form of mankind soaks the ground and we say as Cain did “am I my brother’s benefactor?” I believe in eternal life, with the same conviction that I believe infinity exists between one and two.
The problem of pain comes into place when we are not connected with God or think that the agenda of God is to bring in pain to ourselves, to another or nature. If it is not biblical than it is delusion, deception, that of the brain playing tricks on us as we wonder on the will of our life. We must come to understand that the will of our life is to be reconciled with God, ourselves and others. Pain comes from being in rebellion with humanity, and earth leaving us to be separate from God, or better said the truth. Know thyself.
On Joy!
Abstract: Internal happiness doesn’t come from the world but by meditating on God’s word, worshiping God, and praying. Living a life of thanksgiving, and commitments, thinking about yourself in Gods light, how not to waste your life, and focusing on God’s will for your life. This is what I have been slowly learning over the last couple of years. It is about being in peace with yourself, loving yourself by first loving God.
People tread through the woods imagining the time of sir Arthurs round table, and the battles of those great knights. With fists clenched they tread forward like the brave prophets of the desert quenching for spiritual food and water. Seeking strength in stoicism and spirituality in the love of the Lord and loving the Lord, where are they going, where are they treading towards, towards what stream, towards what oasis, when only there are mirages, the palm trees, evergreen forests, water that can only fill their quench being an improbable possibility. Will they ever be satisfied, or will they continue moving in unison like soldiers, the holy martyrs, the nuns, the monks, the simple people of simplicity seeking hope in that which is outside of themselves. Seeing spirits in the trees, the houses, in fighting the good battle, in the sun, the clouds, the birds, the fish, the animals and especially in the herbs and the mushrooms. Hunting evermore for a satisfying meal, in light, in darkness, in the evermore wonder of the imagination, but can it satisfy the soul. Is happiness to be found in these places, in this state of consciousness, in life, in death, in timelessness, or is it an ever-vanishing creature, a giant in which the ancient Ukrainians believed in and the fable told that the only way of escape is through confusion, by acting like the buffoon, to put your pants on backwards, and the shoes pointing in different directions as if they were Jerusalem’s Jesters. I believe that we must fight the good fight, to seek truth in internal happiness, this is the question that I have been pondering on. The tyrants of old and new, as the prophets weep and seek strength in God, the dictators’ lust for status, fear and the promise of the whore of Babylon, the conquering of nature and death. I have no reason for fear, for status, for power yet we all have the propensity for evil, as the Russian mystics have put it learning from the Jews, the 20th century was the century of Baal, no I have no need for these thought experiments, in finding the spirit through new porn industries, in finding the spirit in any form of Baal, in the hatred of Beelzebub, I do not want to be a slave to darkness, as only corruption is to be found in the death of the soul, in the philosophy of progress through scientism and the mechanistic way of thinking, we are all androids seeking to be human, to be natural but falling into social norms, in different ways of thinking, while we try to kill the God that left us with the paradoxical questions of life. I seriously ponder if this way of thinking is where truth is to be found or if it is poshlust? I have sought truth in this form of thinking but have only found that it only displays half of the picture of the truth. The belief that God is a mythical being outside of science has become the new stance of many of the new greats, forgetting humanities past, and even the remembrance of the instinct to worship the beautiful, the majestic, is considered to be a product of the gene fallacy, as if it was ingrained in us by the Neanderthals, the cave men that beat women with a stick over the head to prove their love for them as they dragged them home and made them sign a wedding agreement. No I believe in science, I believe in human ingenuity, and I believe that the way forward is through learning more in the sciences, science is not something that is simply believed in but is an unquestioning fact of reality, it is the study of reality, but what if I was to tell you that what we know as reality is a transcending dream, an illusion, a cradle between two abysses, and solely relying on it will only prove to use mechanisms and not agency, everything may be the bioproduct of game theory, algorithms, but there is an eternal, an infinite that displays these numbers, the Fibonacci is simply a rhythm to the orchestral background, the God behind the curtains of the thin veneer between the timelessness that the prophet stumbles upon and nature which the scholars seek. God is the infinite in the finite. Join me as I push on forward with both fists clenched, unto the promise of internal happiness.
Internal happiness comes from the multiverses coming together under one picture frame, the whisper of the trees melting the heart as the sunset looks over you at the beach and the doves fly over you in all of their majestic beauty. Yet this can be argued for external happiness as well, one coming from an inner joy at the face of beauty, and the other being the beautiful that brings a smile on that rose cheeked face as you see the spring blossoms grow in the end of winter, the transitioning of seasons, as Vivendi plays in your mind, the transcendence of beauty in the mundane, but is this all there is to it. This happiness is fleeting, one minute we are gazing at the face of the eternal and the next we are pondering on work, school or something else that occupies our mind, our neuron transmitters can only be open for a duration of time before we become to overthink and allow our lives to cloud the eternal. What are we wondering about, what illusions are taking over our mind when we escape the present, is there more to happiness? Is it found in being estranged to the worldly, in the nostalgic as Lots wife looks back at the pillar of burning fire, turning her into a pillar of salt? Is it found in experimenting and discovering for self, rather it be hedonism or existentialism in the gaze of nihilism as King Solomon did? He discovered that all is vanity and only God can bring joy. He lived a complex life, a life of wisdom and riches, a life of prosperity, a life that prosperity preachers can only wish to live only to find that it is vanity, rebelling in pride and lust, Job rebelled in pride and sorrow, and the prophets fell in sorrow as they saw that Gods word was being ignored, even though they found happiness in God as the birds of the sky fed them, God visited them, but we cannot control happiness and cannot stare it at its face as it would kill us as Moses discovered when he was only able to look at Gods back. God is holy, we fall short of holiness, we grovel like the pig in the mud avoiding pearls or the dog that goes back to its vomit. The holy fool being portrayed as an enforcer, a rapist and a pyro in the minds of sinners as they cheat on their wives thinking that the devil is right and that Elijah was nothing more than a mad man. They fall into internal masochism, into alcoholism, opiate users, and lost in clouded judgement as they try to discover their own joys, without God I don’t believe internal happiness can be found. We may be able to describe all of nature, the universe, the multiverse, the tree of life, the multiple branches of time being seen in the beehive but we are not happy. There is more to it than this, joy is defined according to Rick Warren as: “Joy is the settled assurance that God is in control of all the details of my life, the quiet confidence that ultimately everything is going to be alright, and the determined choice to praise God in every situation,” and by Gregory Skovoroda as “Knowing thyself,” a life of self-reflection. I believe that that they come hand to hand in holy matrimony towards the bigger picture on what internal happiness is.
Know Thyself!
I love Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ is holding the finger of King Midas from turning himself into a golden slave leading him to be frozen in space and time, let’s not be a twisted King Midas, creating the Minitours Maze into New Jerusalem, through the depths of Hell, Atlas will drop the world and it will crumble like a jigsaw puzzle only to be reassembled by death as a Picasso painting, the absurdity of the house of mirrors. Let’s be anchored on earth as Voltaire’s apple spins around the world for six days and lands on the head on the seventh, I will be anchored to the beauty of the nature of the Christ. The beating of the human heart is found in the binary of the kicks of the fetus to the rhythm of Mozart’s Requiem. Let’s not be an Amadeus in the tears of falling of frogs on the window shield, the pornographic image of the OT in the tears of an inferiority complex but let’s be full of life. I choose Christ, I love Christ! You’re the best in the ashes of sin is found a day chewing on the crumbs of coke, the silliness of someone chasing after cars, the tears of hope to Christ are found joy, true joy, the joy of Christ. As I have Satan packing its bag by rebuking him, and sending it to torture those that it doesn’t like, the childish maniacs of love creating and going against the Holy Spirit. I dislike the vanity of sin but I don’t want to see darkness in the night sky but instead the beauty of the moon and the stars, in Christ there is salvation and hope. I love Christ, love those in the need of the happiness of peace, let’s be wise like the dove and be as joyful as Hawaii. I want to be a part of your world Jesus Christ, away darkness and allow me to traverse into light. I want to help those with mental health issues. Know thyself!
The insanity of Alice is that she is on an illusory checkboard board, and is aiming to cut a hundred-foot Psilocybin shroom with the Mad Matter praising her for her choice due to it being her un-birthday and the Cheshire is preaching the self-promotion of self-choice. She is getting excited as the hookah caterpillar is rubbing himself against her smoking colorful 0’s and 1’s into her nostrils while asking the infamous question…. “Who are you?” All is vanity, will Alice go through a bad trip and scratch of her face off next to the hanging tree or will she find warmth in the great commission? We all have an inner irrational voice, please listen to your rational voice. Know thyself, live a life of self-reflection and a life contemplating on the fabric of nature and God. As Charles Spurgeon put it has been said by someone that “the proper study of mankind is man.” I will not oppose the idea, but I believe it is equally that the proper study of God’s elect is God; the proper study of a Christian is the Godhead. The highest science, the loftiest speculation, the mightiest philosophy, which can ever engage the attention of a child of God, is the name, the nature, the person, the work, the doings, and the existence of the great God whom he calls his father. There is something exceedingly improving to the mind in a contemplation of the Divinity. It is a subject so fast, that all our thoughts are lost in its immensity; so deep, that our pride is drowned in its infinity. Other subjects we can compass and grapple with; in them we feel a kind of self-content, and go our way with the thought, ‘behold I am wise.’ But when we come to this master science finding that our plumbline cannot sound its depth, and that the eagle eye cannot see its height, we turn away with the thought that vain man would be wise, but he is like a wild ass’s colt; and with a solemn exclamation, “I am but of yesterday, and know nothing.” No subject of contemplation will tend more to humble than thoughts of God.” Know thyself!


Dec 13, 2013
Instinctual Variant

Merry Christmas
O blessed night, o twinkling night, winter wonderland is upon us, this is the season to be joyful and sing praises as the devil is run out of the corners of the dark corridors of Hell by the simple sinners, the devil with his head lobbed off and his tail between his legs, this is what I have depicted in this story. The simple folk have the kingdom to look forward too, the night is upon us, the night of merriment and grace, where sinners are free for one day to beam at an angel and remember the shepherds on the faithful night of the message that the messiah has been born.
O blessed night, o snowy night, winter wonderland is upon us, this is the season to be joyful and sing praises as the virgin Mary was visited by an angel, the angel that placed the star of David for the wise men to follow with the gifts of myrrh, gold and frankincense. The virgin Mary and Joseph triumphed over the devil by journeying to their birth place and even though the devil made it difficult on them they were able to find a simple, elegant, manger where the blackened goats, and white sheep where able to stand around them to see the birth of the Messiah. The three wise men found the once glorious Harold and told him of the birth of the king, Harold becoming jealous created many martyrs for the kingdom of the king by going on a murder spree in Israel’s weakest tribe, Benjamin. The king was born of the weakest tribe and triumphed over sin, he was born in Bethlehem and didn’t succumb to the temptation of power and authority but allowed the martyrs to judge the rulers that don’t bow their heads to the holy father.
Our tale takes place during the Christmas season. It is raining with icy winds, some people are contemplating that the rain comes from God to continue showering the evergreens from above, some people think it is the natural order of the climate of our state and the natural order of things, while a third esoteric type think that the Devil, and the Witch are flying over us pouring down rain powder to give us misty skies and rainy days in order to curse those that try to sneak the fact that they’re smoking from their terrifying wives. One such free thinker is Vasyli. There are allot of rumors of Vasyli, some say that he is incapable of thinking, others say he enjoys playing the buffoon, the latter group likes to use the example of his especially unique way of flirting with women, there is a rumor that he once went up to a simple, pious, young girl of the age of 17 and told her that she should join Femen, that the shame of nakedness is a sin as this shame was only experienced after Adam and Eve ate from the tree of Good and Evil and is therefore a feeling one gets from being separated from God, and therefore one can deduce that joining a group of women who are known to protest in the nude against sex trafficking and for feminism is godly. One can argue that this is witty, but the simple folk argue that he is a giant wart on a bald head. He is said to be a dreamer and a drunk, back when he was in school he day dreamed about being Azazel, as you probably know is the spirit of the desert, or the spirit of death, (the spirit to which the yearly sacrifice was sent to before the ultimate sacrifice whom is Christ) and his proposition of becoming Azazel was by sleeping with the entire district by convincing women that he is gay and trying to get them to make him straight and then blowing his brains and making it look like a murder by saying his brain was hacked putting the police men into a goose chase, he then thought that he would magically resurrect from the grave and will be given a new body, that of a woman’s. It is a wonder that he was able to get married at all, and many have wondered why his wife sticks around with him. O look there he comes out of the tavern on all fours, howling at the moon with a cigarette in his mouth, looking like a reindeer with its tail at the wrong end of the body, a nightmare of anatomy, he has antlers on top of his head. This tale isn’t about Vasyli but about his wife Kate.
Kate is a homely woman, a peaceful caretaker who has stuck to her husband in all the good and the bad, in his buffoonery and foolishness as well as his sweetly moments. When asked what it is that she sees in Vasyli she says that he is a sweet man, a man of caring moments but that devil has his way with him, she is a simple woman. She stands there washing red, blue and white dishes thinking of being a bald eagle, or folding clothes thinking and praying for a white Christmas, but where will the bald eagle rest her head if there is snow, she knows deep down in her heart that God will provide the eagle with a nest as it says so in the Bible. She prays for her husband, day and night, praying and cleaning, that is her life, not for a moment does she judge her husband even though she has every reason to judge him and not for a moment does she cease to pray for him and to remember her savior, whom is Christ, but she won’t sleep on the same bed as her husband as he reeks of alcohol and cigarettes even though he tries to hide it by eating garlic. When he gets home on all fours speaking gibberish about a group of elf stalking him on top of trees, she runs to her room and she prays for him, where does he get all of these ideas from, she runs back to him and she asks him do you see them, he tells her with dilated eyes, I have a third eye. She asks him why you don’t see good things; he asks her like what, and she tells him the manger and the cross, the circular story of faith and grace, that of the year and the holidays. He wonders and ponders what if his simple wife is right, but what gibberish is she speaking, he hasn’t read the Bible in a long time and has forgotten the stories of grace and love that his wife dearly holds close to her heart. He asks her where she gets these stories from and she opens up the gospel of Matthew, and he is transported into a different world, the world of Bethlehem, Jerusalem and Golgotha, thanking the messenger for the gift, he realizes he is simply a child of God's and that he most quit smoking and drinking, and that his wife is an angel, the angel that stuck the star of David in his skies and the messenger to guide him to the baby Christ and therefore beauty and grace. Together with his wife he will clip the tail and horns of the devil and change the course of his spirit, he tells her this and she tells him that he needs to go back on his meds and that if he was willing, they’ll worship the Lord together once he is sober. They go on to singing carols in peace and joy, the Christ is born, Merry Christmas.

God Will Provide
Chapter 1: Mingling in Time and Space, David
“The materialistic space is a parody of the spiritual space. Play, create, and enjoy the divine spark of Logos: parody being understood as the dancing shadows on a theatrical stage”
Swirl, twirl, swirl, twirl, tortoise. The rhythm of time is that of a tortoise shell waiting to be caressed with consciousness. Consciousness being the biproduct of the brain creating random thoughts as if it was dissembling into millions of blocks of data, 0’s and 1’s, and reassembling back together to create thought, as is seen in the software ASCII or the thought experiment of giving a room of monkeys’ infinite time, typewriters and them producing the work of Shakespeare. Plasticity itself, electricity, created by the friction from the battles of angels and demons – debasement: the spiritual ecstasy of masochism. The brain is carnivalesque, a carnival of ideas, experiments and feeling just watch out for the clown with a blue balloon in your dreams. I remember letting go of a blue balloon as a toddler and saying the balloon ween to heaven, it sounded like a man’s last name that had recently committed suicide and my older sister looked at me as if I was a prophet, in surprise as if I had just blessed a corpse or a house that fell on itself and flamed up – decaying matter. As we know the balloon goes up and comes down, and pops, as the Greek expression goes, Opa!
I created a mathematical formula that explains consciousness and how I traveled. C = S to the power of 1, (S to the power of 2 * T) to the power of E. The C standing for consciousness, the first S for spirit, the second S for two spaces, T for time and E for eternity. The spirit being a universal transcendence of nature, creating life and existence nothing more than the ontological illusion, creating sparks and vibrations of magnets that pull the world together, the north pole and the south pole creating zones in time, nature and weather, day cycles and warping reality when looked at the face. The auroras of whispering polar bear songs. If we were to sing the songs, we would tear the tower of Babel in half as if it was the walls of Jericho by Gods trumpets, or the tear of the Holy of Holies in the day of the crucifixion of the light. As my sister puts it a proof of the old earth theory.
Time as a spider web with infinite string all being able to be pulled and vibrated throughout by the spider, the spider behind time and space is no other than God and a rift can come out if snaps so hopefully this time jump doesn’t do that because I can’t repair it only God can. With each meow of the rift there is a day cycle change sometimes instantaneously. God and darkness, God and evil, grace and spite, the two forces that intermingle and create the timelessness of God hovering over the waters in darkness like a dove plucking a four clover leaf from the Ark, eternity is the shield of the globe that is ever expanding and extracting, retracting universe with the surface being Einstein’s space waves to put it in my words, when combined you get consciousness, within the individual, within spiritual unity, and within the relationship of the trinity all points to consciousness. I time traveled through connecting my forehead and spine to active currency, emitting electrify consciousness, and use it to catapult me through time. The most powerful AC was used by Edison to kill an elephant. At the right voltage it is possible, but it has to occur at an eclipse, it’s as if it was God is fudging us, testing the principia Mathematica. Through Goethe’s theory of colors anything is possible.

1. James 1:3: For you know that testing your faith proves steadfastness
2. Romans 12:12: Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer
3. James 5:7-8: Be patient, therefore brothers until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and late rains. You also be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand.
4. John 3:28-29: You yourselves bear me witness, that I said, I am not the Christ, but I have been sent before him. The one who has the bride is the bridegroom. The friend of the bridegroom who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly at the bridegroom’s voice. Therefore, this joy of wine is about complete.

Jesus Christ is my savior, and Lord, the redeemer of my soul, and not only by the standard if my soul is a mechanical, talking, abominable snowman from Calvin and Hobbes, and as if I was to lick God as if he was a honey bear candy. Jesus Christ has our lives planned out and all we need to do is follow his commandments, as it is found in grace. Jesus Christ has our lives planned out and all we need to do is follow his commandments, as it is found in God. The love of Christ transcends madness and brings consciousness into the highest pinnacle of beauty we must allow ourselves to be brought up in righteousness and follow the rhythm of heaven to find Christ and be healed from all scares as Isaac was.
“In the love of consciousness Christ resides,
I see the light, I am the light,
I see love, yet I am love,
I see grace, yet I am grace,
I see mercy, yet I am mercy,
I see justice, yet I am justice,
What I am not is anything that scorns me.” – Consciousness
Man’s fight with himself for the existence of God:
Spirit: I am God, I am now an atheist, therefore I cease to exist, I am a mirage
Soul: If that is true why don’t I shoot you in the back of the head to see if you truly are a mirage.
Isaac saw Abrahams’s walk with God and the lessons that he thought, these saved him from spiritual death at the altar
Consciousness is synergized into quantum, just like sex, starting at the sauna, then ending at the snow, laying, giggling and creating snow angels afterwards.

Chapter 2: The Young Faust, Olga
“The beginning of the fall is pride, and the cherubim scorched the Garden of Eden with its flaming sword due to man’s blasphemous tongues, and man creating the carousel of fate with the tree of life.”

In the twilight of midnight, I hear a loud thud, a crash of something, as if somebody fell from the moon into the earth, on top of the roof, maybe even under a cow’s hoof. It came from the barn, I put on my slippers and went through the mud, I’m getting dirty, my dad will be furious, he has perhaps one third of his years to live, and I have still three fourths to live. He better not think on ruining my life due to this. As I get in the barn, I see a hole as if it was created by the four men lowering their friend to be healed by Jesus Christ. The hay has a reflection of a tint of navy blue with the moon reflecting in a bucket of water next to the large pile of hay. It is a good thing it didn’t wake up the cows otherwise we may not have received a full bucket of milk the next day. On top of the hay, I see a young man, I ask him, “who are you, what are you doing here, where do you come from?”
He looks at me with a peaceful face which turns into a smile and says, “I come here to meet a beautiful young woman, call me the professor, a Faust of the time of perestroika. I come from America, I come on a giant, mystical green pig made out of devil’s lettuce which I smoked and ate.” I look at the eccentric man and giggle, “truly where are you from?” He looks at me and says “I am from Volodirmski oblost.” I look at him no longer giggling but with a stern face “don’t joke around about lettuce, especially from the Devil, just recently there was a man who was talented in all of the instruments, rumor has it that he signed a deal with the Devil himself, the devil had his way with him. He died and was laid inside the orthodox church with icons overlooking and the doors chained up and locked. There was Grandmas placed just like the soldiers overlooking the tomb, either way they fell asleep and suddenly they feel a wind and the cross and the icons are knocked over, and the casket stolen, they scream and howl “oh Lord!” cross themselves as they run and stumble out of the doors. The deacon inspected the church the next day and saw a cabbage role where the casket once stood.” He looked at me and says with a shrug of his shoulders, “backwoods, village, superstition probably a phantom menace, a conman that snorted too much cocaine, the village drunkard in the church.” I look at him with a frown and say “don’t be the devil’s child.”
I think and ponder what should I say to this mysterious man that talks about lettuce pigs. I ask him, “what are your opinions on God and the Devil?” He looks at me and says “God is a being with a God complex and a death wish, the Devil is everything the world wants to be, the greatest idol of mankind, a shapeshifter that mocks people while having sex with them to be able to later transform into them.” He writes in a piece of paper Big S to the square root –(LR)squared little s squared by 2. S is for shapeshifter, L is for lust, R is for resurrection, s is for sex. He says this with a sparkle in his eyes and then says “who are God and the Devil to you?” I look at him and say “you’re crazy, a fantastical man, at the edge of a knife, the devil has his way with you. I understand the phantom of your imagination, you are boring me.” He looks at me pulling a pall mall, lighting it up and saying, “then you will find the moralist Bogdan interesting.” I look at him with eyes of bewilderment, “what did you just say.” He blushes and says, “oh nothing!”
He is as soviet man, he smiles and says “how I hate the USSR it is the wolf from nu pogodi, trying to catch the rabbit that is Christianity and the best it can do is catch it by the ears or scream “nu zyats, nu pogodi.” Or a young girl begging a rich man for money, not getting it goes on to steal his money that is hidden under his mattress and then burns down his house, truly the soviets are beasts.” I look at him surprised and tell him. “Well I believe that the Devil is the deceiver, the prince of lies, and God is like the wind, you cannot see him but you see his movements, he also puts his spiritual hands on my shoulders when I pray, he speaks to me, he gives me a comforting hug throughout the day, you think this because you don’t know any better, I know that God will provide.” He points a gun to his head and pretends to shoot himself, “there is the death of God as Nietzsche put it, if I ever go atheist I will cease to exist.” I look at him and say, “if you stop this, I’ll be your friend.” He Smiles, takes out his hand and says, “it is a deal.” My sister comes to me, and says “supper is ready” and asks “who is that?” I respond by saying “a half-baked mathematician and a hazardous philosopher.” My sister and I go back into the house.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
“For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die;
A time to plant and time to pick up what is planted;
A time to kill and a time to heal;
A time to break up, and a time to build up;
A time to weep; and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn; and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stone and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to seek; and a time to lose;
A time to keep; and a time to cast away;
A time to tear, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence; and a time to speak;
A time to love; and a time to hate;
A time for war; and a time for peace.
1. Space * Time = Mind, the operating system, 0’s and 1’s the universe is a computer. We must become self-aware; this is memory particles that create thoughts out of intuition and experiences.
2. At the point of eternity – the infinite, the materialistic becomes nothing more than a dream, a transparent sheet.

God is outside of space of time, in a world of hammers and nails in which I am an observer he is the overseer, the conductor of fate and will. There is a time for everything, infinite possibilities and God is in control of each string and knows how it vibrates. The only fate that we are in control of are obsessions that lead to catharsis in discord with the promise of death, being a child of the devil. In consciousness there is history, memory itself and the spine of world history is the Bible itself the period between life and immortality, the marriage of the groom and the bride. The finite and infinity and in between are God, it overlaps from one to two and intro three which stands for the trinity. The Fibonacci numbers of periodical evolutionary explanations are God’s fingerprint. A divine symphony in which I am a note and God is the director of the great commission. God help me regain my spirit, so I want to be a skeleton as I am one of Pavlov’s dogs hanging at the Sistine chapel showing God to be unreliable. Perhaps the key to the spirit is spiritual ecstasy… the spectacle. An example would be the feeling a doctor feels when his is in the carnal gland, the mind to stab himself in the heart, the blood pumper, and not the spine, after giving his life savings to a prostitute, due to finding out he has stage four cancer without taking anything in control. This ecstasy is stronger than the drug, or imagine a prince shooting himself after his wife leaves to Vegas with an actor. I must keep myself in check! This may be the key of consciousness to think that I and a friend are in amidst of the game of fugitive and playing Dota; fooled the school in thinking that the spirit is compressed, foggy air in a jar with eyes painted on, a voice box, battery, magnets and wires powering the battery. As if God breathe life into a jar. The Homunculus of Jewish yore, the absurdity of being made in God’s image, oh how we grow up!
It’s as if I am drinking from the cups of demons and the cup of God, as if it is a bittersweet cocktail, that leads to drunken turpitude, confusion the Bible preaches loving a sober mind, or in other words, having one hand raised to God, and another down to the Devil, being torn apart between the two spirits, as if I am in the middle of a tornado, stricken by lightning. I need to grow up and do what I came to do in this time zone.
We deep down are all rebels that must be obedient to God and not in fear but in love as he died for our sins. Even in a small province of the Roman Empire, even is small areas or people world events occur, and if God gives you a personal revelation you too can change as there is no one in history that has had an encounter with Christ and hasn’t changed. The only argument is the mad man trembling “God is dead, God is dead, and you have murdered him,” in the sharp tongue on the philosopher of the antichrist-Nietzsche. He had a wild forest fire burning his loins and what he needed was the peaceful flame of the Holy Spirit in his spirit, in Christ. We must allow Christ to change us from the inside out by rebuking ourselves with all of the foolish perspirations and ideas (a chicken without its head,) and accept Christs will and vision for our lives. Unlike a common thought pattern amongst Christian that make them toys to be toyed around with the devil due to an obsessive nature, God does not give up his children to Satan for a mistake or mistakes just like a dad doesn’t give up his child to a murderer or a rapist for misconduct, instead he disciplines us and not in the way of the professor disciplining his beautiful student by having her bend over the desk after class. Being born again is metamorphosis in Christ, the caterpillar becoming a Cancun and reawakening as a butterfly circling around the lamp light, as I become the nebula of my neighborhood through pen and aper, this captures the essence of mortality into immortality. Not to prance on all fours for hay like Nebuchadnezzar’s goat.

III The Dream:
“Everyone is praying, with a fire flame, coming out of the spines I walk outside through front door with a Bible in my hand and a cloud of snow rests on top of me, sprinkling purity in chastity.”
I went to sleep with an unsound joy in my soul like the rustling wind as the pouring hails hits the window, fear and ecstasy, full of sympathy, hope and shivering despair. The transfiguration of Jesus Christ as he stood amongst Elijah and Moses, from cold to hot, goosebumps.
I see the Devil and the Ryft holding my significant other hostage. I have cold sweats as if I am withdrawing from heroin, not knowing what to do with myself, how to save her, my mind is turbulent and made of confusion. I call king David and tell him what is going on and he says it is a miracle that I’m seeing this but alas he will go on to challenge the Ryft and the Devil. He and swagger pull up to his house to see that she isn’t there, that it is in fact the Devil in nanobots. The Devil says from his throne, or should I say chair that has absorbed time and space, “I challenge you”. The Ryft sneaks up with a rag damped in chlorine and tries to make him pass out while snapping his neck. David’s neck seems to be made out of springs and rubber. David chuckles and says “that won’t work on me.” They push them into the backseat of David’s tinted orange McLerran saying “the secret place.” The Ryft asks, “is it true you’re in the KGB.” David laughs and says “nope I am king David and swagger is my mighty warrior.” They make it to their, make it to the secret place in the midst of the evergreens, in half the time avoiding the cops. They get out of the carriage and the Devil as well as the Ryft snap out of their chains. Swagger looks surprised and David looks at him and tells him, “They used David’s steroid from what he remembers has Codeine, Windex and Chlorine in it.” He looks at the two and says “the fun has only begun.” David gets the Ryft on the edge of the cliff and pushes him, the Ryft scales down the cliff and finds a cave, David says, “so you know about that, too bad it won’t save you.” The entrance of the cave closes, He tries to break through it but cannot, it is made out of Titanium. The cave walls start closing in and the center point seems like a rock with water dripping down, as if it is an altar. The Ryft lays down and puts his forehead under at the dripping water, as he is a nihilist, with a groundless abyss in his third eye, and I’m not talking about the one at the end of tail, he begins speaking with a low pitch tone “put the gun in your mouth and shoot yourself,” and in a high pitch tone “no, Dad I don’t want too,” again in a low pitch tone, “tsk, tsk, tsk you’re no son of mine, you can’t even do this right.” As if he is on stage playing both the parts of Stalin and his son, caressing darkness, in other words, chocking his tail.
The Devil kicks swagger with moves of someone floating on strings controlled by a puppeteer perhaps God himself. Swagger spartan kicks him off a cliff but the devil scales it up as he doesn’t want to fall into the abyss, he is not a nihilist but a devil, a shadow of the world, a proud member of the Snow Queens free will. Swagger with a dagger ends up cutting the devil and tearing him limb by limb into four parts, each part being a hemisphere only to find that the Devil is a voodoo doll that needs its eyes pecked out, the voodoo doll staring back at him. The Devil has made himself into a voodoo doll, the circumference of regeneration through surgery, it was the creepiest, most perverse, haunting thing that swagger has ever seen. As if he was looking at a nobody, the Cheshire cat himself which is funny enough King David’s spirit animal. Swagger grabs the doll and nails it to a tree, and nails a sign above it that says, “don’t screw with King David and his mighty warriors!”
King David and swagger drive off only for a barefooted girl in a black dress to find the voodoo doll being pecked at by Woody the Woodpecker as if he was Prometheus himself. She takes him off the tree and gives it to her Doberman pincher who starts chewing and shaking it, only for the doll to start screaming and roaring, “stop it tickles.” The girl smirks and winks at the moon, thinking, “what a pleasant toy.” The girl is without a spirit or a soul. The doll not speaking about the girl is saved by a homunculus which a creature without a spirit but does have a soul, it was created by using David’s blood which has copper, zinc and iron in it from eating pennies, spiritualized dice, compacted wind in a jar and scorched at a 1,000 Celsius. They run laughing in glee of their great escape only to run off a cliff and into the earth’s core, right into the gates of Hell which was more frighting than the month of April. He is thirsty for living water but the doll and the homunculus were prepared for the lake of fire.

I wake up screaming with tears in my eyes, and call Simon. I tell him about my dream. He tells me that dreams are portals to the subconscious, that I need Christ in order to be saved and I should consider doing everything the Bible tells me to do, in order to avoid my shadow, the inner creeping fear of death and regeneration. That I must become a shadow of the heavenly realm. It was a dream within a dream. I wake up that morning feeling more dopey and tired then I did the night before. I brush my teeth, turn on the soundtrack to Cuphead and make myself French toast. The French toast is crispy and melts in my mouth especially when dipped in maple syrup and drowned in milk. It is salivating, comparable to being one of Pavlov’s dogs awaiting its meat. The delights of the ghost of matter, living the gospel throughout the seasons. Pavlov was the God of the Germans Shepard. The crux around my neck is my philosopher stone, the German Shepard had a bell, and I have the Bible. Jesus Christ is my Shepard. As I ponder, I come to realize that the last nine hours have been a great metaphor on the texture of time in the being of self, I jot down some notes and go back to sleep. ‘1,2 is the transitional to 3.

“Within the sparkle of the eye is the depth of the mind, which transcends the blindness of the soul.”
I am sitting in the U.S.A as I imagine water coming out of the lagoons of Venice into the museums of the world. With the paintings being smeared and the Mona Lisa crying black tears, I come to understand myself. My fantastical self, the self that showed a finger towards the Goddess of wisdom. I have a needle of morphine on my arm as I hear the howling of the moon in the vibration of the air with a gun to my head and dilated pupils, catharsis, hearing the demon of White Behemoth chanting you’re the Ukrainian Faust, you’re the Ukrainian Faust, how do I break free from its grasp, from this shadow, from this darkness, the demon comes to me and says you have revealed to me your third eye, the god of fortune through entropy, will eat any cattle for you, any enemy, any symbol or icon just don’t cross yourself, as you people are like cattle to be eaten, from death, from the shadow, from this darkness. The demon comes to me and says; you have revealed to me your third eye, I am Mary Magdalene, I wail and say I did not call upon you. I do not need you are not the one that washed the feet of Christ, no you are not! You are not love, you are not burning down the cross, I cancel my BPD mind, but instead accept the glory of New Jerusalem. You are the fake Magdalene, I will not shoot myself but will instead attack your lies with the “blood of the lamb, begone, go you, soul reaper is a demon, whoever you are, I will not listen to you, I will not live in this fantastical imaging of spiraling martyrdom of the green house. Laying my head on the Christ as John did, I will not be besieged, I will not fall under the curse of madness, in the merry go round of the mind where deck seeks in there is the hope of life. That a mountain may come down into a body of water and the house on rocks will withstand the crashing waves and the house of sand breaks down. Contemplating the mighty power of nature in the mechanical processes of the world. Lord you are my Shepard, and how I love the bride of the lamb. Reading the book of the lamb is like eating manna from heaven, I am a run in the mill Christian with an imagination.
Maladaya Alice
In the wonderment of youth comes the all too wondering eye of the mirror, the syndicate of the all-knowing wonderer, the wondering Jew questioning the existence and worthiness of the euphoria that comes from the happy pill, go on take the black pill and become a nihilist. The wonderment of the regions of heaven crying for all the injustices of the world, as little Alice carries the chains of bondage with her in the face of brutality and justice, wondering where she is going. In the hells of life come the violence of not knowing, in the library of darkness and madness pupating the subconscious comes the all-seeing eye. One can’t help but wonder if her fantasies concerning her teacher are of use, that of sex, betrayal and the tears gliding down the stars as shooting stars glitter the night canvas, is this all going to resolve itself?
Little Alice is on an adventure, on an adventure through the streets of Seattle, from the Bronx to Seattle in the need of escape in the hipster land of coffee and smokers, in the pike street is a colorful array of food, in the raging dictates of the police, where she beats them to a pulp continuously receiving court dates, in a drunken rampage the sixteen year old can’t help but wonder concerning the rays of the sun, with the energy of the big bang explaining in carnal words the creation of the universe, the word used the energy of thermodynamics to create and everything is powered through the tool of language, from the fall of Babylon to the creation of the tower of babel, time is seamless as she caresses it in the cortex of space.
Where is she going? She can’t help but go to Alki beach and wonder on the ongoing treads of punishment and guitar playing as she spikes the volleyball, and joins in the mocking of sneers, the devil’s advocate, the language is powerful the dirty talk the night before has her hyperactive, the touch, the sensual sensation, as the machines are taking over, she can’t help but wonder if this machinery work of life sorting people as if they’re cattle in communal residence with drugs and sex is the prophesied word of entropy, the bottleneck effect as the churches receive free food she can’t escape, her subconscious is suffocating her, the puppets of madness and darkness telling her that her that her mentor won’t lead her to goodness, that her therapist will leave her into a dark place of unknowing as Sartre relays the nausea of twisted fate in the suffocating fog of the labyrinth that is the mind, when will she learn that the religious suicide is not the only perspective to the absurd, in a world of witchcraft and terra cards she can’t help but feel that new age is the hocus pocus of Neanderthals and that she is in her way towards the right direction, from the death of the leap of faith over the bridges, or the gun barrel she can’t help but talk trash to the losing volley ball team asking new comers if they’re any good at it, will the all-seeing eyes of the mirror maintain silent for long as she strives for a better future in the bosom of mother nature.
The metamorphosis of death can’t help but give her existence, as if the reflections of the sun and the mirrors are the way to understanding the shadowy world of the eternal, in the going up to down of a balloon and popping in the dreamscape of Freudian dreams comes the all-knowing answer to the eternal of the capitellar turning to the all beautiful butterfly in the seascape of life, one can’t help but wonder what motivation carries her on, as she continuously downs psychiatric pills, and can’t help but feel detached from reality, the metamorphosis of nihilism leaking into the mind and having her wonder on the weight of the universe and existence itself on her should, will she prosper or will she fall wayward in the world of planet earth, the materialism of working for money only to live in her communal residence and wondering what it will take to get out of this little cramped area, a place containing a mattress, a fridge, a microwave and a laptop. This journey is about our Alice, will she resurrect her God from the death of nihilism.
“You can’t resurrect the past so don’t try to recreate it, you can only replay it in your memory bank.” Alice was telling her friend Ruby as they were wondering on their times back in middle school, the time was easier than the time in High School as there was less of a need to impress, Alice is a runaway, a thug for a lust for life, her companion is offering her a home to stay at, the turf of a local gang, the gang that was robbing banks to buy out the city newspaper in the city of Federal Way Washington only to become police deputies and officials, moving up in the world without getting into debt, the person with the influence of information and the power of information have their foot into the world of power of first, her friend Charles was telling her, she looked at him with a smirk and asked “if you get caught wouldn’t that ruin all of your perspirations of the super man dream of Stalin or should I say Nietzsche?” Which he responded as saying “We won’t get caught”. She responds back by saying, “either way I don’t want anything to do with it, I plan on getting my life straight eventually and joining God will provide and perhaps doing something good with the short period we have with once I turn eighteen,” Charles responds back by saying, “suit yourself.” Charles as stated earlier has a gang of bank robbers, and have already accumulated enough wealth to buy out the woods in the surrounding area to bury the dead, was0 training to become a police office and had enough to buy out the city newspaper for his plans. He had a tactile mind and was obsessed with chess, playing it all the time, giving Gary Kasparov a run for his money, he is eighteen-year-old and it is sad that he didn’t become a chess player. He has an obsession with the symbol of the perfect crime wondering on the lucidity of the golden touch, his crimes were perfectly played out, and he has yet to get caught, in fact he was planning out to buy out the newspaper after his meeting with Alice, after gaining ten million, his bank robberies occurred in all other states so he wasn’t worried about the jurisdiction catching up with him, and his call card was the troll face.
Alice as soon as her meeting was over started wondering on the light, the prophetic word of turning white with Moses, Elijah and Jesus Christ, the prophetic word in the desert. Was her life worth living or is there a truth within her that will out pour the emptiness, does she have a bright future ahead of herself. As the quartz circulate in light she can’t help but feel the photon is circulating the universe in the last game known as life, is there reincarnation as the Buddhists say, if so she would like to come back as a feline, or better yet is there the beauty of Eve in the face of the Madonna, the time crunch of joy in the face of life, in the hope that the turmoil will end there is always kinesthetics so she decided to go back home after getting a coffee then stretch, to gain the spiritual necessities of life. She ordered herself a pumpkin spice latte, and then came the nagging voices, “consume all of it, let it darken your soul, there is life to be found in the bottom of the cup, you can’t but help it, gain bliss, the bliss of the sexual maneuver of pouring a battle of milk down your throat, as men watch, there is a beauty in Anna Karenina that the vulgar can’t see. Devirginize the virgins, or better yet go kill yourself you good for nothing phantom.” The puppets came back, “go ahead and give up on marriage or just go have sex with Charles, he did give up a place for you, look at the way he checked out your ass as you walked away, don’t be anything more than eye candy, you are just a brain with bones, fat, and skin, with muscles, either way give up on a happy life and the mainstream marketing life of marriage and children, or else look into it with someone with a bag of gold.” Alice responds to herself, “Shut up or I will destroy you,” madness responds with, “Then give up on marriage.”
As she downs the coffee, she can’t help but feel like the voices are correct only to feel a bottomless pit at the bottom of the cup, at least she is wide awake. Is there a God, what will occur after death, she can’t help but feel an empty pit, as she remembered the night before, in a drunken state she had gotten in a fight with a local resident and even punched the police as she was trying to pull her away, why was the immortal ring so potent in her and not in others? I am overstepping the abyss of silence, the precipice of death. As I walk alongside the edge of the street watching the people pass me by, the people with twisted faces, and drunken dollar signs for bodies, I can’t help but feel a cynicism warping my reality, as I step outside of it in the wake of Godship of Adam and Eve, the death of romance, derealization.
Commentary: Life may seem like an abyss that is meant to be traversed, often sad and maddening, while neurosis has us acting like predetermined beasts instead of free willed creatures of the night. We must gain freedom not through not being a mistakenly played key note in a symphony startling the audience that is watching, but in the idea of being free from the chains of maddening thoughts, thoughts that lead us to sin, sin being anything that goes with missing the mark, if it goes against your conscience don’t do it even if the only divide is that of cultural boundaries and the nurture of the individual their surroundings. Freedom is not found in rebellion, as rebellion, or revolution will only lead to a new painted same issued canvas, but instead try to focus on enlightenment, in freedom of the heart, spirit, soul in Jesus Christ. There is a gift in electricity as well as in the power of secularization of the holy triad, but that doesn’t whisk us away that we are either slaves to righteousness or to sin as Apostle Paul puts it, don’t lead a life in confusion or being lost in the cerebral pursuit of life, but instead allow yourself to live a life with Jesus Christ and those that love you, for who you are and will accept you for who you are, the sinful will be caught rather it is in this life time or the next lifetime and we will all be judged and put in account of our actions rather it be in the burning Hell or Heaven so please focus on discipline, focus on living a life worthy of eternal paradise. Instead of being caught up in the schizophrenic illusion known as life on planet earth.


Dec 13, 2013
Instinctual Variant
Lord your providence is my hope,
It is the sword of light within the shadows of doubt,
It holds the galaxies within its hilt.
And with every slash all despair goes away like the wind,
The wind will not carry the sword away,
The wind will not sway your ever-caring eye
Lord your providence is my hope in the good and the bad.
The desert
The mysterious winged creatures ignite a fire in the desert,
the fire from within when approached with prophecy and vision, where victory triumphs over tribulation,
the messenger Gabriel will stand up in majesty and triumphant as he relays the message to the mourners,
people who are going through sorrow,
the trumpets of the angels will be played in the desert,
as the ultimate sacrifice has been made in Golgotha,
the spirit of death has no power here,
the dark winged angel has no power here,
the demons tremble at the playing of the trumpet as the bride sings Psalms,
the prophetic word arises from the desert of the soul allowing the spirit to flourish in paradise,
to dance as king David did in the gates of Jerusalem as he brought in the ark,
there is no shame of nakedness here,
the serpent has no power here.

The Seraphim guides the passerby from the madness of darkness into the light of hope through the prophetic word.
The Holy Spirit guides the soul out of the madness of darkness through wisdom and discernment,
Christ watches his bride in merriment,
the powers of principalities have no power here,
as the princess of Christ rejoices under the wings of holiness,
the fire that enlivened Elijah from the heavens when he was put under the test takes the bride into paradise,
let the daughter of Zion dance and rejoice for the spirits of goodness guide the passerby into heavenly rejoice as the choir sings glory, glory, glory.

A rebuttal to Nietzsche
The flame of reason tells me that time is a circle,
the dwelling place of the firebird,
where out of the ashes comes paradise in a circular fashion,
it's nothing more than an illusion,
as we look at the circle in the light of faith,
we come to see that it is a spiral,
the stairway to heaven,
where the fire ceases to exist and is sublimated into the eternal radiant light,
the flame transfigures into a richer, fuller absolute,
time itself cannot contain it,
it transcends into Eros, the groom and his bride,
but i am stuck in the third dimensional,
the resting place where the high and mighty have fallen,
the martyrs and the free thinkers,
but as I gaze out of the cemetery, and escape my thought,
I see the crosses on top of the gravestones,
and the star of David leaves me a path to the Christ,
to the words of the gospel,
to the path of New Jerusalem.

An ode to Dostoevsky: Consciousness
I will seek my being outside of myself,
what does my soul hunger for,
will my quench be satisfied in self,
no as it was the ruin of Raskolnikov,
will it be found in the universe,
what is it if not an accident but in chaos came the cosmos came the all universal, cosmopolitan idea of consciousness of both the garden and the serpent,
the fall and the resurrection but my soul does not cease,
it still thirsts,
where does curiosity come from?
Is it an illusion or symbolic?
What it transcends is the consciousness and becomes spirit,
reaching out to the heavenly,
the revolutionary divine spark of logos,
the divine spark of the infinite,
thus is where God is and the crux of my wanting as I am ever reaching out for bliss,
the soft whisper comes ever closer reminding me of the transfiguration,
the living body,
let me arise from the ashes and become united with the whisper of genius as the dove guides my way to eternity, (eternity being timelessness)
there lays freedom, peace and joy,
the escape of the tyrannical reflex of individualism,
I am an ever-hungry exile of Eden,
bathing in the springs of living water,
where angels and demons struggle for my heart,
this is finite and it is a part of the infinite,
a reflection of the eternal.
The Night Before
the serpent’s eyes travel through the depths of death.
Life is nonexistent within this night,
I think and wonder on the edge of the knife, who am I, what great deeds have I done for the light to have visited me.
The angel spoke of birth as I tended my father’s gardens.
Was it truly an angel or just my imagination?
Do I hunger to be loved, for who am I for God to have chosen me?
I am nothing more than a loyal servant in my father’s home, the voice I heard today was the same as the royal light that possessed Balaam’s loyal stead on that faithless day.
Am I not to have faith as Sarah did when she mocked Gods promise, no I can’t, I will not… What will Joseph think when I tell him that I will give birth without being with a man,
yet a warm radiance warms my heart as I look upon tomorrow…
I hope and plead that Joseph doesn’t think that I have been unfaithful.
That this is all a lie, if he does lord please send me to Sheol tonight.
Allow me to look into the eyes of the bronze snake for I am withering not like the fake prophet but like the crops in the month of death.
What would Ruth have said if she stood amidst the crops of my heart tonight?
What a knavish notion, what a commotion the heart creates when afraid of the laughter of Azazel.
Lord please help Joseph understand – help him understand that I am loyal…
I am your loyal servant and stand among those is Sheol tonight under this moonlight trance, lord you are my all – thy will be done.
Pride is a ghastly, crazed parrot.
A parasite that inflames the mind with the intoxicated squawking of the harlot on the brazed dragon.
Spilling out gibberish as if it was a chicken running around with its head chopped off,
Its scythe like beak leeches unto the air as if it was blood.
I try to hit it, to make is stop but it mockingly encircles me with its demonic, dilated, bulging eyes.
It looks like a plush toy that is having its life squeezed out by a pathological three-year-old.
I cannot seem to be able to swat the ugly monstrosity away.
“Honey, why are you waving your arms around like a maniac.”
I look and see my wife.
Where has the parrot gone?
I stutter as I try to explain, all I see is the horror in her eyes.
I look down to contemplate the depths of hell and all I see is my dog chasing after its tail.
Do I wake or sleep? Was it a vision or a waking dream?
A Shameful Man
I am the slain waxen doll. The shadow of a nightingale trying to escape its empty vessel. All I wanted was to prove to myself that I am more than a walking manikin existing in the dollhouse of a three-year-old, and all I could accomplish was to consume the Leviathans pale fire. The marble is not glistening under the sun as the anonymous hand scribbles in the dark.
I swallowed up the bronze dragon as I watched the cherubs dance to Bach. I danced with the harlot witch to obtain pixie dust, to explore the nether regions of hell. I am the beetle at the wrong end of a crazed air head’s high heel. The eyes of my spirit roll so far back that blood is pouring from my eye sockets as I stare into the infinite gallows of the hanged man.
I want to pull the trigger on this manikin’s temple and watch its fluff fly into the vacuum. I am going crazy under the grimacing grin of the Cheshire Cat. The pale fire is my crib between the two abysses. The heart is a useless commodity, I hear that it tastes great with tea. You the reader by now probably consider me a wretched charlatan, a pathetic Gogolian creature. All I can say is that don’t allow your nose to lead you.

The Fall
The gallows of the flood drown the wonders of life.
The drainage leaves the colorful leaves of wonderland in tears;
one cannot help but wonder what Noah and Alice have in common.
The sorrow of righteous indignation in a senseless world.
God ever looks upon our hearts, carries us through and directs our ark with the precision of Eurus, the sirens cannot seduce us, we will not be stuck in the wreckage of time.
The snake slithers waiting to bite our ankles as the once glorious king Nebuchadnezzar wails to the songs of angels.
Cherubim swim in pools of living water.
Madness drives poor Alice through the curves of darkness.
Sickness suffocates her as the Cheshire Cat watches with a grimacing grin.
Winking at her poor attempts of escaping self and finding freedom.
The dove comes looking for the poor girl, the drowned girl but cannot find a place to set her delicate foot within the abyss of heavens tears.
The ravens seek for her in lust, the vultures in hunger, poor Alice is in the brink of being devoured.
Resurrection is upon her, all is not lost.
All is under God’s watchful eyes.
The dove will not leave Alice alone, in a matter of seven days the dove flies out again finding a fleshly plucked olive leaf, all is not lost, life is still to be found.
Madness has yet to overtake our poor little girl, she cannot overcome darkness, but God can.