Contrast...
I am a devient by circumstance, not by choice. I am judged by those who think
they know. My path laid out before me without a choice. My destiny is etched
in stone...
If only I could transcend this. I am kept awake at night by demonic
visions. Chaotic cycles, I never got used to it. The spiral deepens. I am
drawn to this whole by my flaws. Why am I always held acountable? Doesnt
anyone understand that the blame spreads until it thins?
Always running from corner to corner as the beasts close in with steel
pipes. I could fight them all, its called murder. Ive dealt enough with my
demons, yet am ceaslessly attacked by the shades of others.
Think yourself so clean?! HAH! Asked "What the fuck is your problem?",
"Can't you just cope with it?". I have tried and tried and tried, always
backed into a corner... Always being pushed, pulled and shoved where others
want me to be.
I can't concentrate, theres too much. I clash with my environment, a
whirling blur of madness rips through the air as I feel the conscioussness
approach. The static emulation of some T.V. junk, startling cacaphonie of
voices, bluring squeels of electronics... a sickness engulfes me. I can't
stand you, I can't stand for your junk.
You sick, twisted creatures... Turn your back on nature, on me, on
life. You serve meaningless abstract notions. You are all naught but dirt...
© 2001 James Teel
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Long live the Dragon...
The whole achieves sustanence through sacrifice... This is immutable.
If something is to live, something else must also die. Thus life and death
are the same. Death creates change, which allows life. Life, in turn,
changes, dies and begins anew in a different form. When this immutable law is
ignored the boundaries will stretch and eventually snap back, resulting in
death reaping the dept life owes. Entropy is a fact, and one should not fear
it. To fear seath is to deny life.
Chaos is the third factor, which allows this law to exist and
function. Without chaos nothing is possible. Within nothing, chaos is
possible. Whithin infinite time, chaos is assured. Law is an illusion. It is
either on or off, 1 or 0... There is no middle ground. All or none pass
through chaos. A pocket of law cannot declare war on chaos, as much as they
might claim to the opposite.For the apparent "law" owes its existance to
chaos, and would succumb to entropy without change... A stagnant death.
Goodness is the epitomy of all that is rotten about sentience... It is
deciete most foul, for one decieves oneself as well as others, making oneself
naught but a pawn in the game of fools... Of course, goodness and unity
promote a higher being comprised of like-minded humans... But it so happens
that this creature must die as well only to be replaced by something new.
We see the disease all around us, but we seem unable to purge it...
Unable to accept the law of sacrifice. The filth rises.. The filth that feeds
on our refuse grows... The diseases that enter our lungs evolve... We remain
stagnant, waiting to be engulfed in a tide of misery. You have sealed your
fate.
© 2001 James Teel
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Inverse
The darkness as my guide,
my hatred as a light.
Moonbeams make the path
that I shall walk this night,
The howling of the wolf
The question of the owl
A world turned inward
A sorcery most foul
The leaves rustle gently
As chaos makes its mark
none know the answer
save one who calls the dark...
© 2001 James Teel
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Open gate
The fire extends backward in time, aproaching the cause. The effect
watches in curiosity as the rules bend, shutting it out of existance. The
object of the burning feels life anew as this fiery rash drops away into a
deep, unpercieved chasm.
The winds swallow images whole, leaving man to wander... The equation
is thus, for all parts seen, an infinite number remains unseen.
And thus it is known that the end does not justify the means, for
niether exists.
© 2001 James Teel
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Odd, eh?
It calls... The crazed fiend of the black death; Rogue Djinn of Hell.
It has been many years now, eons have passed. The constant hum of the wheel
of time has dulled, the wheel having rusted to a grinding mass. Magic turns
from efficient to berserk almost overnight. The mealstrom unleashes beasts,
whose names have been long forgoten, heralded by instruments unknown to us.
Darkness spews forth from their eyes, and thier chariots of cold flame are
drawn by Dragons, drooling millions of tortured screams. The drool shall
awaken a goat, who shall devour the invading force due to a gross
miscalculation of size...
© 2001 James Teel
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TCP Health Warning
Dear most unlucky recipients of a most wierd newsletter,
I send this to you in the utmost confidence that the ideas contained herein may help to convey my
rather useless perspective and share the wealth of delusional idiocy that runs rampant in my mind. What you see here is the end result of 20 minutes of caffiene distorted mental compression
into text format, a failed attempt at a fractal, metaphorical concepts expressed in circular design. Enjoy.
© 2002 James Teel
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The Clan of the Pheonix Newsletter #1
"Civility"
#1
The civil world thrives on fraud.
The very principles by which you live are merely errant functions programmed into your brain in order to make you a malleable and dependable customer. You are part of a machine... The machine is nescessary, everything we know and live for would collapse were the truth revealed in an easilly acceptable manner, though such not be possible, because people want to believe in the lies.
We work, toil, and slave so that someone may reap the rewards of well planted seeds. Your needs and desires are half fictional, blown out of proportion. To those who may see the truth without fear, there is no sense to be seen in shutting the presses down. Instead, try not to reveal what you know so much, and set your scopes on control. Would you like a percentage of that harvest? I shure as hell would. If you have any misguided pity for these delusional slave/creatures then you yourself are a delusional slave/creature. They deserve it. They would curse you, spit on you, call you mad, and eventually destroy you were they to find the threat you pose to their beloved half-truths. Having sympathy for these drooling animal/zombies would be extreemly stupid and to your detriment. History has proven such.
So what is this "civilized" world we live in? Think "Domestication" and think big. What is a man? Potential revenue. A man (or woman) will work to the end of their days for a trivial amount of compensation while one could take the lion's share of his/her constant laboring by virtue of "intelligence", mayhaps "understanding". All you need is the plan and a way to sell it to the masses.
Of course, one must skip to the beat of established pavlovian brain mashing in order to most effectively implement the mind control one desires. A little hemi-sync may be in order if your trying to really drive the message home. Dance with the enemy and find that they are not all that bad.
The moral implecations? Bleh, I say. Morality is another tool of control. It keeps man in line.
It keeps us from destroying the framework of delegated authority in those moments of weakness we all experience. Wake to find yourself not a mere respectable human holding down an honerable job, but a scumbag megalomaniacle power monger with a taste for capitalism. Awaken to a world of things others only dream of. Private jets, personal servants, highest quality goods. Dream big, and don't let the mind washing make you a victim. Its all there for the taking, you just need to quit being lazy. Drive on to the land of green pastures in the post-apocolyptic wasteland.
Mind is what it all boils down to. Stop using your feelings so much and give in to the mad use of intelligence. Even an average brain can accomplish much with the truth revealed. Work the strategy, implement intuitional thinking, let nature take its course and find yourself where you deserve to be. Now that you are armed you must escape this prison and open to opportunity. There is nothing you can't do, grasp fate by the neck and say "give me what I want, bitch." because if you don't someone will do exactly that to you, though you won't see it that way... The brain has a funny way of justifying the unnacceptable to make life more live-able.
Take the tools and do thy will. Erect your own temple in the hearts and minds of the hearts and minds of the drooling masses.
fin
© 2002 James Teel
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The Clan of the Pheonix Newsletter #2
Ok, so its not news, but it is something I find important. To those of you who enjoyed the first one,
prepare to be bored and confused by something much less direct.
WARNING: This newsletter may lead to dementia, nausia, a feeling of helplessness, hypocondria
and all other sorts of mental illnesses, you have been warned...
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The true path is not clearly marked...
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An elusive critter, the truth dodges the seeker. Alight upon the shelf, one goes to catch it, but
just when you think its nature has been discovered, it comes to light that nothing was there.
Some accept what they have found there...
And some see their mistake. The next time, one tries to creep up on it. Mayhaps signs of its
existence have been spotted under the couch... Ever so slowly, watching it, one investigates all
routes of escape, then corners it, capturing it...
But again, it has vanished. Some, unwilling to comprimise their long, hard work, leave it be
there, and accept what they have not found... But some are more stubborn than others.
Eventually, one leaves the house and enters the wilderness. One is presented with many a path,
and one may take only one, being one, or so it appears. One takes the path that appeals to one the most, for none can truelly be the wrong path, only circumstance and logic dictate the
path.
The seeker plods down the muddy dirt trail, admiring the trees, the wildlife, and eventually
finds himself back at the starting point... Full circle. Where to? Try the other paths. Another
loop. Years pass, and the seeker is frustrated. Mayhaps he will return indoors? Mayhaps to stare
at the shelf or peek under the couch?
Eventually, the promise of an answer will keep the seeker awake at night, and draw him farther
and farther away from the sanctity of the shelter provided for him. He will spend many a confused year getting his shoes dirty and returning to the warmth of his provided shelter...
Until one day, something gives... Something snaps... "Fuck the paths." he says to himself, and
charges into the bushes, so far from the known, into the dellusional abyss that is on the
fringes of what has been provided to him, that he becomes lost. The nights are cold and lonely,
and the gibbering of coyotes is a constant reminder of the fiends that would tear him into easilly digestible scraps. Eventually, he passes an event horison. There is no return from the
depths. Wandering, lost, hopeless.
But in the desperation that must eventually pass he will find truth. What is here is truth. There
never was anything else. That which has been built by man's hands can never yield the
realization, that which has been spoon-fed will never nourish the soul. Confidence grows, and the
unknown becomes a friend, a shelter of darkness from which all things real have come.
Eventually, a quite field, a stream, and a gathering of seekers await, all there but not there,
all travelling the same abyss into the unknown... Tis a rather small gathering. Tis a rather
small compensation for years of hardship and loss, but in this place is that which is sook. To
the seeker who never yields goes my utmost respect. All paths may be traversed simultaniously,
as they all overlap, by not choosing. The true path is no path. Shelter is a paradigm, and a paradigm is a useless innefficiancy in a chaotic, whimsical, and barrierless world. Protection
afforded by man is an illusion, liable to dissapear at any given moment, sustained only on the soul of its victim. A parasitic paradigm.
© 2002 James Teel
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