Saturday, May 30, 2009


Now the god, in eternal heat, pursues maiden Matter yet again ...but this, His most poignant defeat, will prove also to be His ultimate victory: the metamorphosis of the yielding Earth —no longer the mere temptress-martyr of cosmic radiation — into a self-organizing, self-developing and self-evolving Being ... a dazzling Lolita shining and scintillating like a little lost pearlescent blue marble in the infinite indigo darkness of Spacetime.

The Earth at last begins to catch fire, the seeds of sun-fire long shelled in Her mute matter begin to pop and burst open and gasp heatedly for breath … Dancing serpents (both genetic and telluric) awake from slumbering dormancy and began to dress the globe with their shimming, erotic lace...

The World is a mirror into which the Light of the Sun gazes in wild, free-wheeling wonder.

We are the way in which the Light of the Sun experiences being ‘Other.’

Beneath the hard, thorny bark of Matter is a beautiful naked Girl restlessly and endlessly aroused by the fire and light of the Sun...

"He sees Her bright hair waving on her neck, her eyes like stars of sparkling fire --and whatever is not seen more beautiful must be." (Ovid, Metamorphoses)

Monday, May 25, 2009

There is Only Life After Death (This IS it)

We belong to what we came out of
and we don't belong to what we want
or to what we think we need
and all of the trying
and the hoping
and the dreaming
will never help
all there is
the most gentle surrender
the most tender agreement
in realizing
what we always knew
that we are not our own

if you are looking for truth
for yourself
it can never be found
because the self that you're looking for
isn't true
we can surrender to truth
for truth's sake
instead of our own
we cannot have truth
you can't find it
you can't have it
only the whole of you
can belong
to Truth

You can lay down in truth
and let it have you
because it is of supreme value
and you're not
everyone has overestimated
their own value
that we are worth something
when we are
most wonderfully
worth nothing

John De Ruiter, 1999

There Is Only Life After Death audio

Sunday, May 24, 2009

End of the post-endgame (or, coming out the other end of Merc Retro)

Dear Jason,

I see from your recent discourse with Tommy that AK in its current incarnation is unraveling... As I explained to Stephan in a recent email, I envisioned the planetary model as a means of developing a sense of authentic community between like minds that would transcend the boundaries of 3d space (ie brotherhood despite apparent limitations of the internet). Perhaps this is still possible.

The opportunity for shedding the responsibility of personal identity in the name of a larger community has great appeal to me. My own vision involves the banding together of men who shared the common goal of ego-annihilation and self realization. Is it naive to think that this could be done with a group of friends who I had not met in the flesh?

I unwittingly took away your toys a few months back.. it is understandable that fate should put them back into your hands.


P.S. Woman 1 has just notified me that she may be pregnant.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Boot untied and Stuck in the Mud

Swampy and vile still
The sound of frogs and locusts
The stench of decay
A hole in the sound
Unmanifest and silent
Nowhere to be found.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Worldview Warfare (weltanschauungskrieg) & the Necessity of Illusion

“We are greater artists than we know.” Nietzsche.

Everyone has their personal version of reality and everyone believes theirs is not only the best version, but the only one that really counts.

Our version of reality is dependent on our physical, emotional, psychological imprinting as infants, and has little or nothing to do with conscious processes.

It never seems to occur to us, however, that our version of reality is built up from material that comes directly from other people’s versions of reality (the books we read, people we respect, and so forth).

We cling to our version of reality as if our life depends upon it. Maybe it does. Yet we know that any version of reality is incomplete, and never can be complete.

The way we view the world defines who we think we are, our constructed identity. We cannot see ourselves from the outside, except through the eyes of another.

We agree the sky is blue without ever wondering if we are seeing the same color, knowing only that we have agreed to give it the name “blue.”

We all desperately need others to agree with our version of reality, even while we insist that we are special and unique.

Does anyone ever really upturn their version of reality in a way that is meaningful? It is akin to identity-suicide.

Our versions of reality are our defense systems, our armor, against an incomprehensible, and probably hostile, Universe. It began as a necessary survival response to those first childhood experiences, the ones which presented the original threat to our well-being, so shaping the identity-armor that was later fully consolidated as a version of reality.

Parents are the first to override our sense of reality by telling us that monsters do not exist and that our invisible friends are imaginary, that we are not hungry when we say we are, and so forth.

We are looking for allies, most of all in our illusions. Complicity in denial. The rejection of conspiracy “theory” (a telling term, since it is often as fact-based as anything in the consensus realm) perhaps stems from our unconscious awareness that we are all conspiring, all of the time, to keep ourselves in the dark about this one, all-consuming fact: that we are the authors of our own beliefs.

Friendship is opposition.

When worldviews, versions of reality, go to war, the potential for breakthrough is great.

What we believe to be real becomes real. We forget that we chose to believe a version of reality because we had to. It was a necessary illusion.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Get outside of your head. It ain't so bad.

"You spend too much time in your shell, Tortoise. Your head is that of a pig's and your arms resemble the loose skin of a turkey's chin. Join your fellow turtles. In community you will find another who has felt pains equal to your own. This will be your remedy," said the very young girl.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Edargorter Yrucrem

Aeolus Kephas - Camatillo.m4a

When there's one in your life and the moment she comes, it's passionate love for some time.
When there's two in the picture you watch from behind, it's funny the games you might play in you mind.
Letters in each of their names.. Fuse them together as one in the same.

Different Souls - Similar Roles

When the first one departs and you move to the next, you're going to feel the effects.
If you call on a brother to offer advice, don't be surprised if you start to think twice.
You made a magickal pact, now there's only one proper way to react.

Different Souls - Similar Roles

Dear Me

Trade one illusion for another
Take a culture and call it a tribe
Slap a new label on
Rotate the fruit
A la carte with the fairy tales
Break it up and shuffle it around
We're all here playing a silly game
Some games hurt, others heal
Illusion is the only alternative to utter despair
Let's kid ourselves and believe something
Fill the void so that the void may be filled
You don't know what you really are
Figures on a screen, letters on a page, words from a mouth
There's nothing for you here, or there

My sincerest apologies, XXxo0O

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Fool's Gold

The quest for specialness
Leads nowhere
Learn to settle for less

Investing in the personal self
Is like building houses on the sand
Passing the time
Before the next wave comes

Integration is the primary fear
Which all constructs of identity
Are the means to avoid

Being special
Is no defense against entropy

The mother prevails in her despair
The father withdraws to his shell
The child turns inward
In impotent revolt
And the wound
The ancient wound
Silently bleeds

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

The Divine Narcissus

On the Seventh Day, the Divine-Child-God rested from his labors, and curled up snakelike beneath the Tree of Life, jealously guarding its fruits. … And humankind has been sleeping ever since, captivated by the dreams of a slumbering God, a somnolescent Super-Consciousness, a snoozing Supreme Being just now beginning to awaken and shake off His dreams and slumbers and come to Himself once more. (In fact, it’s when the Divine is in this hypnogogic state between sleeping and waking that we are blessed with incarnate existence as we know it—when the difference between the Knower and the Known, the Spirit Player and the Sexy Avatar, is still a bit woozy, and all things are still dew-wet and shiny with the hallucinatory presence of the presumed ‘Other.’ … Cosmical aeons are begun and ended by such paradoxes of Supreme Consciousness, this slight-of-hand in the Mind’s Eye of God.)


When, in the course of human history, behavior once believed Godlike becomes all-too-human … where we find activities considered Holy and Divine when undertaken by the Supreme Being of God, but slanderous and selfish and sometimes downright satanic when enacted by a mortal man or woman ... it is then that we see the tell-tale deja-vu glitch in the matrix. That in-between ‘Now’ moment is precisely where all the secrets are hidden, where the full richness of our human potential as conscious-beings has been stowed away. It is only in that in-between ‘Now’ moment that gnosis, anamnesis, or “retrieval” is possible. That in-between ‘Now’ moment is exactly where we will find the Secret that awakens the little gold-nugget of God glowing emberlike in the inner chamber of our heart, and fan and feed its flame, till we are each set aglow with inner Light and enlightened through and through once more.

When one consensus culture conquers another, and assimilates and subsumes the vanquished culture’s logos and mythos into its own corporate conglomerate— The behavior of the old, departed gods comes to be regarded not as evidence of said demi-god’s divinity, but rather his or her all-too-human (or “pagan” or “luciferian”) ungodliness. I believe now that this is where secret aspects of our own very divine humanity can be accessed — in meditative, majickal and theurgic activities normally regarded by the consensus as “sinful,” “selfish,” or otherwise “ungodly.” But these will now be celebrated like never before— because they will now be celebrated and expressed with a much fuller depth of meaning, responsibly distilling knowledge of these myths’ true import and meaning.


For example, in the opening of Genesis, God is moving over the face of the waters. This is an unbelievably tranquil, zen-like activity, rushing at light-speed hawklike round and round the slowly balloon-blossoming sphere of the Cosmos … The sheer velocity of His flight blows the glassy, star-flecked bubble of the Universe into an ever higher and deeper and wider ball of glowing Light… until the plasma-bubble begins to collapse torus-like upon itself — BANG!— and our Divine-Child-Horus-God is puckered like a snuffed flame and sucked deep into the cloudy event-horizon of Creation’s beginning, down deep, deep into the Sacred Burning Heart of the Stars. —BANG!— All that comes ever after is born of His hands, His mouth, His eyes — all bearing the stamp and impress of His image and likeness forever for all Eternity. …

—And we have much the same in an even older telling of the tale— of a beautiful youth Eternally Young, an Immortal named Narcissus. … The limpid pool that uplifts the god’s reflection skyward is us — we are the reflected images dancing and dappling in the Waters of His Eternal Life, colored and sized according to the tee-tottering forward approach and backward withdraw of the god as he rocks to and fro in mystic trance. … Creation, as we know it, is but a snapshot, in limited dimensions, of the opulently Great Life of the Godhead— the reflected likeness of a Being much more dimensionally greater than we can even fathom. Yet the god is entranced by us nevertheless— He is captivated, riveted, He cannot look away. …


This is “it,” the “trick,” the “secret” that the Maji (the original priesthood) kept and then lost and forgot— the surprised shock of seeing your own face staring back at you in your every experience of supreme beauty or devastating terror… the romance of loving yourself so very deeply through the guise of so very many convincingly-imajined strangers that there can be no denying that you, indeed, You, and You alone, are the God busily building the Universe anew around You, where You will forever love the World over and over again and again into bigger and better and more beautiful being. …

This is the gnothi seauton of the Gnostics and the Platonists, the true aim and end of all psychologies, be they religious or philosophical. —Surely this could not also be the heinous egotism of a God? A God that is so selfish for Self-Consciousness that He has incorporated and subsumed all conscious-being into His own I-AM — and we call this Creation. …


The mystic practice of ‘knowing yourself’ is really the process of laboriously cleaning the mirror in the back of your Mind: the moment you really, truly ‘know yourself’ completely is the moment the Face of God (Narcissus) appears in the mirror. … For we are not only the impermanent reflection of a narcissist daemon dancing flamelike on the surface of the waters, we are also the Immortal God lost in the swirling theophanic wonder of His own mad and mesmerizing gaze.

Philosophically speaking, we have just reconciled the One and the Many. The Mind does a little flip-flop; the Heart skips a beat and does a little excited leap of recognition. Our eyes crisscross; the reflection before us in the mirror disappears and reveals the infinite deepness of pure blue sky looking back at us through a window looking back at itself infinitely. For a moment a mystic wormhole unfolds in plasmic slithers, bridging the entranced initiate and the neon-streaked vastness of Deep Space in a tunnel-vision of epic proportions. The Mind’s Eye of God winks back at itself lustfully … the egg of the thalamus cracks open like a flower suddenly exploding into flowery bloom, and the Soul flames forth in a sputtering shower of white-hot electric bliss. …

Monday, May 11, 2009

The Proof Is In The Profundis

I: Control

There is one thing we all agree upon. We meaning you, me, that person you caught staring your way a few days back, the pocket watch you’ve always wanted, a cloud, even the well obscured Old Seers. We all agree upon the progression of events. Some call it time; some dare call it history. Whatever it’s named cannot escape it’s ultimate appearance of forward movement. That appearance is the agreement. I no longer take to calling it a consensus reality for it is neither as solid as consensus nor is it any more real than the voice in your head sounding out these very words as you read this now.

What if surviving each moment of time energetically intact and hopefully wiser from one more fantastic imagining were considered a monumental success? Would you have the shelves and wall space enough in which to display all the awards?

That depends on how expansive your inner Hall of Records is. Perhaps it’s time for a few more wings; an annex or two. Build it. Fill it.

II: Discipline

Tulpa: Hello AK! How was you weekend?

Aeolus: Wonderful. It was full of delicious food and good books.

Tulpa: Oh man, if I only had the time to read. Heck, if only I had time to sleep I might not get such horrible bags under my eyes not to mention this killer back pain that has me constantly reaching for my pills! The doctor says I have Restless Leg Syndrome and I think he’s right! Last weekend we went camping. Took the RV out to the woods but I couldn’t make it past the first day. Guess the air was too clean or something ‘cause I had a migraine the entire time there. On the way back we went stopped at the casino and I won $200, pretty freaking cool huh? Only took me three hours! As soon as I won the money I got up and shouted ‘See ya later suckers!’. Dammit I love slot machines. HA! It’s like that commercial where the one the lady says to the giraffe…

Aeolus: Wait a second. We were talking about me.

Tulpa: Ugh, you are SO selfish! I’m outta here!

III: Forbearance

Information has set a trap for you. Spring that trap now before you become ensnared in what you may perceive as knowledge simply because information is heading towards you faster than at any other time you can remember. Information wears a luscious mask that tells you everything you want to hear but beneath that mask breaths the true face of that gluttonous intake: morbidity. Not the morbidity of physical sickness but the mental illness of information addiction. This is not new this kind of predilection but it’s certainly exacerbated by the very mechanism you are in communion with at this moment.

What may be the single most powerful undoing of our species is our gross attention to detail. Of course the details are speaking at a light-year-per-minute pace but what’s really being said? And of that fraction that contains meaningful data what subset of it is being absorbed? Further still, of that glorious sliver what have you put to use? If my obsession be with thought experimentation then do indulge me and kindly run these trials. I’d love us all to show each other what we really mean.

The present day Hall of Mirrors is truly an Inner Net and mostly just a reflection of a few things. Proof that there are a few of us out here but no less comforting as we run hands and smudge across the panes in search of the way we entered.

The morbidity of detail is the weapon of choice in the Old Seers arsenal of distraction. The ubiquity of device and their language of interruption is the farmland with you as the crop dusted 22.5 hours a day. Please pause before coming back with platitudes on how these connections have freed us from the primitive, as a self-important view of society is in of itself a key indicator of unfortunate arrogance. As dubious as I am of culture to begin with, that trepidation is multiplied when our electronic technology has not given the organic base it grew up from a single moment to let balance out it’s own progenitors.

Elegance does so much with so little. It powers itself with tiny sparks. It has no more than just a few moving parts. It’s basic beauty is immediately recognizable. It needs little or no explanation. It is intrinsic.

That’s why one single word spoken between two individuals in the warm light of complete understanding can be more meaningful than all the scrolls ever penned in every incarnation of the Alexandrian libraries. The brevity of that relevant moment itself can easily outweigh one-hundred tonnes of networked systems with it’s armies of hyper-intelligent pocket calculators.

IV: Timing

Now under my own wing that I may break the spell
The conjuration I cast upon myself so well

For from below the magma consumes my feet
And from down above the crowns of daggers sharp as sleet

The darkness now seen to be the white hot light
Where secrets cannot hide nor those of entitled might

V: Will

Know ten things. Speak of only nine.

Saturday, May 09, 2009

Roughly Translated...

"Dreadful is that place, this house of god is, and carry to hide and
speak (in the) corridors (of) God. How lovely(?), your tabernacle at
home, that not valor at that desired time, and to be wanting (your)
breath/spirit upon the chambers of my domain."

Thanks to ViolatoR for the assistance.

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

Back to Basics

1. A necessary fee or charge is not a "donation".

2. A majority is not a consensus.

3. Equality can not be achieved through inequality.

4. If irregardless is the same as regardless, then irresponsible must be the same as responsible.

5. Atheism is a religion.

6. Just because someone is nice to you doesn’t mean they're a nice person.

7. The right wing and left wing are components of the same animal.

8. Religion is a cult that has garnered legitimacy.

9. Treating people the way you expect people to treat you is the essential tenet to live by.

10. Having a sense of purpose in life is everything.

Sunday, May 03, 2009

Seeding the Abyss

Being in Unknowing
Allows Knowing to enter
Nature abhors a vacuum

Through soul-deep despair
Being is made fallow
For future joys to be planted

For the cup to be refilled
It must first be made empty
There is no substitute for the Abyss

Egomaniacal entities
Frequent rectal passageways
But I do not smoke a pipe

Friday, May 01, 2009

What Did Your Say Your Name Was Again?

I know I said no more posts, and I have kept to that. I am not
posting this now. This is not me.

It may have seemed that way but as was stated 'This is not it.'

What you thought was 'It' was merely the pupa of your assumptions. Out of that sarcophagus I have freed myself from the ensconced to the exposed. Spring has indeed sprung but in far more directions than just one.

Catch me if you can.

Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Aeolus Kephas.

I re-initiated this blog at the suggestion of Aeolus Kephas.

Thank you for this opportunity. I will be sure not to abuse it.

Oh, by the way, I'm Aeolus Kephas, and I'll be contributing to this blog also.

Aeolus first contacted me through my blog some years ago, after running
across an article of mine that referenced a work by Aeolus Kephas.

Greetings, this is Aeolus Kephas.

Aeolus Kephas here.

Aeolus Kephas?

Aeolus Kephas, who else? Good question. Seek and ye shall find. Close one door to the wind, and five more shall fly open.

This is Aeolus, and that WAS Aeolus, but be sure to ignore the one who SAYS he is Aeolus Kephas, because he is certainly not I, and I am not those!

How could I be in two places at one time?

The Wind they say is everywhere and nowhere.

OK, but-

This is still not it, so don't be fooled, please, not at all. Harmonic jesters converge, yes, and appearances deceive - or do we?

This is Aeolus, and this is, and this is, and this----

Aeolus, and THIS is Aeolus, and this IS Aeolus, but that wasn't, and we hope to see you next time here, Aeolus, old friend, - but not YOU, Aeolus - YOU are not fooling anyone, here, least of all yourself.

For Aeolus' sake, enough!

Forget everything you have seen and heard here, in this place.

Do not believe the explanation about to be revealed.

THIS is not, it, either.

But for now, it will have to do.

Over to you, Aeoli.

So glad you could make it.