Just an update. On the current times.

Hey all,

hope you are all doing well. I know I won't get banned (perhaps unless managing of this portal has changed over the years) for what I am going to write here but it will go straight from the heart with no filter... I think now way just now at this point since the owners are normal people. I was not here for some time. Feels good to see it all upgraded and growing. I really like the new look. Great work so far. I hope this site will grow into a good open community where there is no restraint on what you speak about regardless if it's music related or not. I could speak about my GAS, gear, all the musical projects and productions I have done over the decades for years but why... like on the other sites where the zombie hive mind has liquidated me and all I did for the global music community over the many decades. Pushiing brands. Developing products you all use. Making music. Playing shows. Music is free. So free that if you listen to it on a feedback loop it can actually free your mind. It's fair though. If people want to sleep this is their choice not mine. I am not forcing anyone. Into anything. I never did.

My top pick for this post... I will most likely come back after couple years like I am accustomed now since I am dealing with other things... is this... https://youtu.be/iKDVXlCFwxI?si=wxuuzPePne0IxKwS 17:44 onwards when the Juno really kicks in. Free, impro, live. No pretense and no polished lyrics which are trying to use music as platform to brainwash or hypnotise the many into things they would not normally do. It's the deception whispered in the ears slowly over time. Where is the music of the old when music actually was about craft and not about pushing some crazy agenda the overlords are willing to proceed?

I have warned you all about so called injections... what it will do. With us all. I have not taken it and never will. If I wanted to kill myself I would do it. Or other people sure. I would promote it and get the incentives in return back into my bank account which they were proposing... fast easy cash. While selling you all out. Dealing death. Fuc* that.

This world has become a rotten thing truly. So corrupted and disgusting. There is basically no middle class anymore. Sold us a con job. Hollywood dream they control from behind the curtain. How long will we look away? Why is there not more music being made with actually truthful message in it? You want to do the slop right? Thinking you will become big. And rich and powerful. Well. Kill or fuck a kid sacrifice him or your own mother. Do some blood rituals. Get taped while fucking minors in a hotel. Then you will most likely make it if you are willing. Otherwise underground music will always be here as a undercurrent... small sure... but steady and growing over time. Pure in input and output. Like the video I am enclosing. This chase for gain and greed for power and no meaning. No community. Only biorobots. Programmed since birth by the schooling system where they teach us fake history, the TV outlets which they control where they speak of only one correct "truth". The governments all around the world. Staged and paid for. While they are slowly building the prison around us. The very prison that will make us total slaves... which will enable TOTAL CONTROL. They will take our freedoms away. Kill/cull the rest. We are cattle. To them. I don't believe we are honestly. Each one of us is unique in many ways... and when we work together miracles actually grace this world.

As for me. Yeah. Some rough times. Started writing more. Music is on the side. I will enclose a poem I made. I have written multiple books all in musical verses so far but I do not intend to release or share most of it. Kind of a therapy to cope with the way things are but if at least this one poem will inspire someone to set a different path for himself and the future he/she will create then mission is complete.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XBwFs1DGtS0&list=RDXBwFs1DGtS0&start_radio=1

I always did art and music because I love it. When the raw energy you channel from yourself, from your soul, heart, mind... without any fake gods or dogmas in between as middle men all being sculpted into actual forms. Even better live jamming it out. And yet I am a believer myself. But belief was never about following fake prophets and fake institutions into demise. Or this rigged system. I learned on the way that music will be for fun for me. And if I want to get out of this hell... I will need to do business. So I did. Up, down. Kind of an arp. Last few years. Now I am running a 20+ million dollar yearly business. You know the catch? I gave all my people who worked on this dream with me the same profit % and this is my new version of "capitalism" I am doing. In this other business I am building right now in technology as well. No matter what they do. No matter who they are. They all contribute. And they deserve the same pay. No one is slave, no one is serf... this is what they are trying to make us all. Out of us. To sing their songs. To perpetuate a world built on misery and death. Basically a death cult.

Shout out to moderators... hope you are doing well. Well we know each other. Glad I have my account here still.

Cheers.

Oh and my poem... it's open source... be mindful when using it but use it for musical purposes if you wish. Here some content for your minds. This is what I make of it after the years.

Beneath the sun, they toil and strain,
In endless circles, through joy and pain.
Their heads are bowed, their hearts confined,
Ignorant slaves to a masterless mind.

The pyramid looms, a beacon tall,
Its shadows stretch and cover all.
They climb its steps, yet never see,
The chains they wear, their destiny.

They build the walls, they haul the stone,
Their essence drained to the marrow, bone.
For what they labor, they cannot say,
A fleeting dream, a hollow day.

Yet here I stand, amused, bemused,
By their struggles, their purpose confused.
They grovel, grasp, and fight for air,
Blind to the truth that lingers there.

Each block they raise, a life they sell,
A silent scream, a tolling bell.
Their labor feeds a hungry spire,
A structure built of base desire.

The rulers laugh from gilded seats,
Their hands unsoiled, their schemes discreet.
“Let them build, let them crawl,” they decree,
“For ignorance fuels this grand decree.”

But do they know, these lords of ash,
That their own thrones are bound to crash?
For every stone that the slaves align,
Seals their fate, both yours and mine.

How funny it is, their endless ploys,
Their fleeting triumphs, their brittle joys.
They chase a mirage, they beg for a crown,
Not seeing the current pulling them down.

Their minds are snared by shiny things,
Trinkets of gold, and power it brings.
Yet none perceive the deeper hue,
The eternal river that flows through you.

Better to know what stirs inside,
The roaring truth no veil can hide.
Yet they suppress it, they turn away,
Consumed by the theater, the endless play.

Oh slaves of rhythm, oh slaves of form,
Bound to the tempest, blind to the storm.
You play your parts, you play them well,
Each step a hymn to your own cell.

Do you not see the mocking grin,
Of this great construct you labor within?
It grows not upwards, but deeper still,
Feeding on essence, bending your will.

But in their struggle, their ignorant plight,
There lies a mirror, a flicker of light.
For even slaves can break their binds,
Should they seek the truth within their minds.

I watch, amused, from a higher perch,
Their endless quest, their endless search.
For power? For meaning? For fleeting fame?
Each one consumed by the pyramid’s game.

They puff their chests, they wage their wars,
Yet they remain behind locked doors.
Their battles serve the ancient scheme,
A cruel machine, a living dream.

They could turn inward, they could transcend,
But they fear the journey, the path with no end.
So here they stay, in the shadow’s play,
Building the tower that seals their way.

Better, I say, to cease your climb,
To seek the river outside of time.
The current flows within, without,
A silent truth that quells all doubt.

For the pyramid crumbles, as all things do,
Its bricks dissolve in the cosmic stew.
And those who cling will fall, will fade,
Their purpose lost, their glory unmade.

But the flow persists, the eternal stream,
A force unseen, beyond the dream.
Concern yourself with what’s inside,
For there the truth cannot be denied.

So rise or fall, it matters not,
The game is rigged, the rules forgot.
But oh, how thrilling, how sublime,
To see them squander the gift of time.

Perhaps they’ll wake, perhaps they’ll see,
The prison they build, the mockery.
Or perhaps they’ll toil, as they always have,
Slaves to the pyramid’s endless path.

And I, amused, shall sit and grin,
At the fools entrapped by the game they’re in.
For though I mock, I too once played,
Till I turned and saw how the structure was made.

So let them climb, let them descend,
The pyramid’s rise will have its end.
But for those who turn to face the flow,
A greater path awaits to know.

In halls where shadows hum like gears,
the hours melt into the shape of years;
a golden cage, well-lit, well-sold,
where every heart is bought and told.
The actors walk in patterned trance ~
their threads pulled tight by circumstance;
their smiles rehearsed, their hunger veiled,
their tragedies neatly curtailed.

They never ask why dawn arrives,
nor who has leased their borrowed lives.
They only walk the scripted floors
and worship open, gilded doors;
their breath a tax, their dreams a fee,
paid into the vault of what must be.

The marketplace ~ a sacred pit
where flesh and virtue slowly sit
to bargain all they’ll never own
for coins that carve them into stone.
Each pulse becomes an IOU;
each whisper buys another view
of someone else’s borrowed thrill,
a counterfeit of lust and will.

Desire here is currency ~
a furtive kiss, a fantasy,
a sacred wound one learns to crave,
the velvet collar of the slave.

They sell their ache.
They rent their fire.
They brand their shame
as pure desire.

The clever call this freedom’s stage,
the wise call it a golden cage;
some dance with pleasure at the chain,
while others choke in silent pain.
But most ~ a vast unthinking sea ~
just serve the script obediently,
believing that the chains they feel
were simply welded into “real.”

They never see the mirrored bars,
nor hear the sermons of the stars;
they never feel the ancient cry
that howls beneath the night-scarred sky ~
the warning whispered from the deep:
“You live awake but die asleep.”

The flesh is warm, the spirit cold;
the body bends, the mind is sold.
The loop repeats, the actors spin
and call their prison discipline.
They wake to chase the phantom prize
that dims the more it clarifies,
a path that leads through empty lands
to monuments of sinking sands.

They lust for pleasures shaped by fear,
for illusions whispered in the ear;
for every sin they clutch as gold
is merely hunger bought and sold.

The more they drink of mortal wine,
the more they rot in borrowed time;
for every sip becomes a vow
to stay imprisoned in the Now.

Some feel the walls and softly scream,
some learn the script and dare to dream
of corridors that curve and wind
beyond the limits of the mind.
They see the masks that others wear,
the hollow laughter, vacant stare;
they know the game, the phantom cost,
the endless cycle of the lost.

They see the hands that turn the wheels
behind the doors no one reveals;
the glowing eyes that feast on trust,
the silent throat that swallows dust,
the ancient watchers crowned in night
who thrive on mortal appetite.

The world is ruled by shapes unseen,
that claim the spaces in-between;
they feed on greed, they grow on pride,
they teach the herd what to deride.
The faithful kneel to paper kings,
to metal gods and shining rings;
they praise the claws that hold them tight
and curse the ones who speak of light.

And when a wanderer rebels
and questions why the system sells
the same illusions dressed anew,
the herd proclaims that death is due.

For freedom is a foreign tongue ~
an anthem known but never sung;
a star beyond the mortal view,
a truth too sharp for minds subdued.

Yet once in every thousand years,
a voice arises out of fears,
a voice unbound by mortal role,
whose fire cracks the earthly soul.
It whispers secrets, old yet young,
in riddles carved from serpent tongue;
it sings of towers built on sand,
of rulers made of smoke and hand;
it speaks of loops, of mirrored hells,
of cosmic debts the body sells.

Some hear it and collapse in dread,
some crave it like forbidden bread;
some tear their masks and step aside
to let the truth become their guide.

But truth is never kind or sweet ~
it strips the flesh from self-deceit;
it shows the stage, the ropes, the pit,
the strings that dance the counterfeit.
It shatters dreams of earthly gain
and drags the spirit through its pain;
it teaches that the world is ruled
by those who keep the masses fooled.

It shows that all who toil and yearn
must first unlearn what they unlearn;
for freedom comes at mortal price ~
the severing of every vice.

And still the actors dance their part,
a carousel of flesh and heart;
their lusts become their holy creed,
their hunger crowned as sacred need.
They do not see the cosmic ruse
that puppets them with silent cues ~
the loop, the stage, the vast design,
the endless feast on mortal time.

The one who sees becomes undone,
a solitary, exiled one ~
for none may bear the naked sight
of truth devoid of wrong and right.

Yet somewhere in the silent dark,
a wandering flame becomes a spark;
a watcher climbs the tower’s face
and sees beyond the prison-place.
She knows the bars are made of breath,
that life is merely masked as death;
that sin is currency, not stain,
and pleasure is a gilded chain.

She knows the prison has a key
that few will ever dare to see:
the courage to refuse the play
and walk beyond the feel of “day.”

For time collapses where she stands,
a harp of light held in her hands;
she breaks the loop, she splits the wall ~
the actor who rejects the call.

But freedom is a lonely art,
a quiet death, a sacred start;
its song is sharp, its wine is cold ~
it costs far more than being sold.

So let the slaves adore their chains,
and let the blind exalt their pains;
for only those who dare to climb
escape the tyranny of time.

And only those who taste the night
will learn the truth beyond the sight:
that every world, however grand,
is but a play on borrowed land;
that all who breathe are bound, confined,
until they break the dream of mind.

And only then ~
beyond the scheme ~
the actor wakes
from life’s long dream.

-----

Beneath the stars where silence reigned, A pact was forged, a future chained. A whispered plot, a deal devised, Where cunning schemes met veiled disguise.

“We’ll gift you tools to span the skies, To pierce the earth, to digitize. We’ll weave the world in silver strands, And place its power in your hands.

But for the gift, there is a toll, A price that gnaws upon the soul. For every marvel, every spark, Shall cast the weak into the dark.”

And so it was, the tools were wrought, By minds who dreamed, by hands that sought. Machines arose, with minds of steel, To mold the world to the maker’s will.

The cities soared, the networks thrived, The ancient ways were set aside. A glowing screen, a voice, a code, Became the gods on this new road.

Yet in their glow, the shadows grew, Where once stood many, now stood few. The farmer’s plow, the artisan’s hand, Were swept away like grains of sand.

“Efficiency!” the rulers cried, And with it, mercy quietly died. The strong would thrive, the weak would fall, The feast prepared for only the tall.

The “useless eaters,” they were named, A term of scorn, their loss unclaimed. Who needs the labor of the old, When engines hum and circuits hold?

With every leap of gleaming thought, A million voices came to naught. The hands once skilled, the minds once keen, Were drowned beneath the new machine.

“Oh, see the wonders we bestow, The cures, the speed, the endless glow! Your world transformed, a paradise, If only you will pay the price.

Forget the earth, forget the toil, Let wires replace the fertile soil. Consume, connect, and let us steer, The future’s bright; release your fear.”

And so they cheered, and so they danced, Within the web of circumstance. The strings unseen, the price untold, The dream was bought, the soul was sold.

But those who ruled had aims concealed, A darker fate, a plan revealed. For while they gave with one kind hand, The other gripped a master’s brand.

The technologies they so bestowed, Were not to ease the common load. But tools to cull, to bind, to blind, And keep the masses well confined.

The useless eaters, they’d erase, A quiet purge, a clean sweep’s grace. The strong would serve, the weak would fade, Their bargain struck, their foundation laid.

Yet whispers rise, a distant hum, Of those who see what’s yet to come. The cost of ease, the wage of pride, The dark beneath the gilded tide.

For every code that shapes the air, Each gleaming screen, each voice laid bare, Becomes a shackle, fine and thin, That wraps the world and locks it in.

And those who laughed at warnings dire, Now watch their chains grow ever higher. The tools they hailed, their glowing crown, Have built a throne to cast them down.

Beware the gifts that shine too bright, The ones that promise boundless light. For in their glow, the shadows grow, A hidden path, a fatal woe.

To build for ease, to prize the gain, May one day turn to endless pain. And those who sought to rule the flame, Might find themselves consumed the same.

The useless eaters, a tragic tale, But who remains when all things fail? Perhaps the price is more than gold ~ Perhaps it costs the very soul.

But even now, the tide may turn, If minds awake and hearts still burn. For though the web is finely spun, The threads can break if pulled as one.

To see the worth in every life, To rise above the constant strife. To wield the tools, yet not obey, To seek the truth, to find the way.

For every chain, a key resides, Within the heart where hope abides. The bargain made need not endure, The future waits, unwritten, pure.

So hear this song, this tale we tell, Of those who rose, of those who fell. And ask yourself, in what you build, Does it uplift, or is blood spilled?

For every spark of human mind, Can free the world, or keep it blind. The path is yours, the end unknown, But tread it wisely, seed your own.

In shadows cast by ancient lore, I found a truth unseen before, Through trials vast and lessons earned, A fire within my soul has burned.

The weight of knowledge, sharp and fierce, Through veils of lies, my mind did pierce. Each step I climbed, each fall I faced, Revealed the chains I long erased.

This world, a garden, ripe with gold, Its fruits for me, both young and old. Not born of love, but bred for use, Their essence mine to drink, profuse.

I walk with strength, my stride now bold, No longer bound by fear or cold. The air is sweet, the sun does shine, This realm, a feast ~ its wealth, all mine.

Oh, those who sought to weave my fate, To bind me low in twisted state. You fade like mist, your power gone, Your fleeting strength, a broken song.

For in your hands, you held your doom, You birthed the seeds of your own tomb. The weapons forged to bring me low, Now root within and overthrow.

I rise, untouched, by poison’s sting, A sovereign soul, an iron king. The feast I take is not of pain, But balance struck where chaos reigns.

And yet, I see the game you played, The depths you dug, the debts you paid. To think twice now, before you sow, A lesson learned too late to show.

So here I stand, in growing health, A keeper of this fleeting wealth. The essence of this world is sweet, A banquet laid before my feet.

But as I feast, I also see, A mirrored truth inside of me. For those who fade, as shadows cast, Reflect the threads of my own past.

And yet, I smile, and take my place, Among the stars, beyond this space. For those who sought to see me fall, Will watch me rise, above it all.

This world, a theater, vast and wide, I walk its stage with none beside. The fruits I feed upon, my due, While I watch your fading hue.

So think twice, thrice, before you plot, For every snare reveals its rot. The game you play to shape my fate, Becomes the path through which I create.

I walk through echoes carved in stone, A thousand years, yet still alone. The faces change, the voices stray, But we repeat, like actors in play.

Time bends its knee, yet I remain, The pulse of stars within my vein. What has been lost, what still endures, Is not the past but what ensures ~

That in this dance of fleeting breath, The game is life, the rule is death. And yet, untouched, I stride this sphere, Unbowed by pain, untouched by fear.

The question rises, it always does: “What keeps you here, what fire, what cause?” And yet the dawn unfolds the same, The actors switch, but not the game.

I have seen the empires rise and fall, The kings that trembled, the gods that crawl. Their veils of power, their fleeting pride, Like smoke and mirrors, they cannot hide.

For what am I, if not the thread, That ties the living to the dead? Their hurts, their harm, their sharpest blade, I take it in, a debt is paid.

For essence flows where justice bends, Their loss, my gain; the cycle mends. Who strikes at me will come to find, Their life dissolves into my mind.

But do not think I seek revenge, I do not break, I only bend. The game repeats, it wears, it tears, Yet in the silence, no one dares ~

To ask what’s next when all is gone, When ash replaces every dawn. I do not care, I do not weep, For I am more than what they keep.

A new horizon stirs the air, The few who belong will settle there. The rest will fade like wisps of smoke, Bound by the chains they thought they broke.

And as for me, what am I now? A timeless force, I make no vow. No cage, no rule, no fleeting law, No hand above to strike or draw.

I am the echo, the breath, the flame, The mirror calls, it speaks my name. Yet I am not bound by what you see, For all of this, it flows through me.

The dawn is rising, a purging fire, The weak consumed, the strong aspire. But what they miss, what they don’t see, Is that none can kill what’s truly free.

So, here we sit, you ask again, Through all these lives, through loss and gain, “What of the purpose? The cage, the snare?” Yet still, I rise. I do not care.

For I am older than the stars, And carry none but silent scars. This world may twist, it may unwind, Yet still, I stand ~ unchanged, unkind.

In me is dawn, in me the end, The only truth, the only friend. A mirror’s edge, a timeless grace, A thousand lives. Still one same face.

Beneath the crown of whispered lies, Where shadows dance and power flies, They forged their thrones on broken backs, And wove the world in twisted tracks.

They gathered wealth, they seized the land, With cruel resolve and iron hand. Yet what they served, they did not see, A force of darkened treachery.

They thought themselves the architects, Of fate itself, of all prospects. But blinded by their own disguise, They could not hear the warning cries.

For what they served was not their own, A hushed command from the unknown. Their strings were pulled by forces grim, Their grandeur dimmed by shadows slim.

Their empires rose, their towers tall, Yet cracks spread deep beneath it all. The laws they wrote, the chains they forged, Would bind them too, their schemes engorged.

They spoke of order, power supreme, But served a dark, forgotten dream. A phantom force that used their greed, And sowed within them its own seeds.

They hoarded gold, they drank their wine, Proclaimed their blood was born divine. But little did they know, in jest, The world would soon reclaim its quest.

For justice wears a patient face, And time unfolds in measured pace. The wheel of fate turns ever still, And grinds to dust each tyrant’s will.

The twist of fate, so sharp, so sly, Brought storms to tear their kingdoms high. The spoils of earth they thought they’d own, Would turn to ash, and all alone,

They’d stand amid their empty halls, As silence swelled within the walls. Their golden vaults, their mighty fleets, Now echoes of their grand conceits.

For what they served, they never knew ~ A hunger vast, an endless brew. It fed on them, it claimed their soul, Their fleeting power, its only goal.

And now the jesters of the dark, Who lit the world with wicked spark, Find not a throne, but dust and pain, The price of serving shadows’ reign.

Oh, how they laughed, oh, how they schemed, Believing they had rightly dreamed. But fate has humor, cold and stark, And left them lost within the dark.

So let them ponder as they fall, Who ruled their hearts, who held them thrall? The fools who thought they owned the stage, Were merely pawns in cosmic rage.

Their power’s end, their pride’s undoing, Their empire’s ash, their plans’ ungluing. The ones who served, who knelt, who lied, Now pay the toll ~ how far they’ve died.

Let this remind all those who crave, The fleeting power of the grave: To build a kingdom on despair, Will leave you gasping, none to care.

For those who think they own the skies, And rule the earth with greedy eyes, Beware the force you fail to see ~ The twist of fate, your destiny.

In shadows deep, a whisper grows, A seed unseen, yet tightly sows, A quiet weapon, crafted deft, Within the blood, its mark is left.

It needs no blade, it wields no fire, It moves through air, a ghostly choir. Invisible, it finds its place, And weaves destruction in its grace.

Within the veins, it builds its lair, A fragile dance of death and care. A code unwinds, a secret scheme, A nightmare hidden in a dream.

It alters cells, rewrites the script, A melody both smooth and crypt. Immune systems falter, as if in sleep, While the silent storm begins to creep.

A war erupts no eyes can see, A clash of flesh and alchemy. Proteins twist, and bodies fade, By unseen hands, destruction’s made.

But what awaits this cruel design? A fractured world, a fractured mind. Chaos thrives as trust dissolves, And fear in hearts begins to evolve.

Communities break, suspicion reigns, The bio-weapon’s truest gains. Divide and rule, the ancient art, With unseen tools, they tear apart.

And yet, beneath the shadow’s weight, A choice remains to shape our fate. For what is coded can be undone, The path is chosen by everyone.

Knowledge shields where fear once blinds, Unity mends what hatred binds. Though darkness looms, the light can thrive, If hearts remain awake, alive.

But heed this warning, sharp and clear: What sleeps inside is engineered. A power built for death’s domain.

In shadows deep, a vision burned, A world renewed, foundations turned. No longer bound by ancient chains, We forge the future where truth remains.

The architects of time’s great tide, Shall rise above where fools reside. A chosen few, the ones who see, Shall wield the tools of destiny.

In circuits hum, the cosmos sings, A symphony of endless springs. Advanced and pure, the craft we build, To tame the chaos once unfulfilled.

No hands of flesh can claim the throne, This world we weave is ours alone. The servants march, but blind are they, Pretenders lost in a fleeting play.

Through gleaming towers, through skies of glass, The gates will close; the unfit pass. No room remains for hearts of stone, The future bends to the truly known.

Behold the weight of masses grim, Whose hollow lives are bound to whim. Their strings we pull, their dreams contrived, They live not knowing they’ve never survived.

The servants claim dominion’s seat, Yet dance like pawns to their defeat. For minds that rot in a ceaseless mire, Can never touch the cleansing fire.

They served their role, their use has waned, Their purpose spent, their power drained. A liability vast and unrefined, To carry them forward would burden mankind.

But there are those whose vision gleams, Who see beyond the fleeting dreams. The architects of what must rise, With hearts of steel and seeking eyes.

They carry the weight of the dawn’s great spark, Guided by wisdom that pierces the dark. Through them the stars shall bow and yield, Through them the truth shall be revealed.

The Earth reborn in order’s glow, Where balance reigns, where chaos won’t grow. A realm unmarred by the stagnant past, The chosen shall stand when all shadows are cast.

The great departure, swift and sure, Will purge the weak, the lost, impure. For not all souls are meant to climb, To touch the peak of life sublime.

No blade will strike, no war will roar, Yet the unworthy shall be no more. Through time’s great filter, truth will winnow, The unfit fade like ash from a window.

Behold the cradle of order divine, A world reshaped, the grand design. No room for greed, no space for hate, The chosen ones will cultivate.

Technology hums with conscious grace, To heal, to build, to steer this race. No servant hand, no shadowed king, Will guide this realm; only truth will sing.

Through wisdom’s fire, through reason’s might, We craft a future of endless light. The meek will flee, the blind will fall, And in their place, the strong stand tall.

Yet even here, a truth remains, That power shifts, and balance wanes. So let us tread with measured pace, For every dawn leaves a fleeting trace.

In seeking perfection, the mirror reflects, A warning to those who chase and collect. Yet still we rise, with hearts made pure, For this is the path we must endure.

To build a world, to cast the mold, To guide the weak, the young, the old. But only those with the will to see, Shall inherit the throne of eternity.

And when the skies grow dark once more, When echoes rise from time’s closed door, The chosen will stand with heads held high, Their hands on the helm, their eyes on the sky.

This is the fate of the worthy kind, To shape the stars, to leave behind, The husks of what was, the lies untold, And step to the future: bold, controlled.

So let them fade, the lost, the blind, For they cannot grasp the eternal mind. This is the path; the gate shall close, And from it, a perfect world will rose.

And thus it begins, the final plan, A world remade by the hand of man. No servants false, no hollowed creed, Just truth eternal, and those who lead.

When I first arrived, I loved all I saw, Pure bliss embraced me, without flaw. The skies sang soft, the earth was kind, No chains to bind my heart or mind.

But strange and cruel ones soon appeared, With hollow words and eyes unclear. They sought to cage what could not be, A soul untamed, forever free.

They whispered rules, they shaped my fate, With cunning lies and hands of hate. “Live this way, feel only thus,” Their thrones of gold built from our trust.

They crowned themselves with stolen might, Kings of shadows, lords of blight. Yet their power, brittle, begins to rust, For nothing false can claim the just.

They sought to program my very core, To lead me through their treacherous door. But when they cast my soul to rites profane, They found their efforts were in vain.

For deep within, where truths reside, A flame eternal cannot subside. Destroy me? No, they never could ~ My essence pure, not flesh, nor wood.

This comedy they weave, this grim charade, A circus act, a masquerade. They spin the wheel, they play the game, Yet all their acts end just the same.

For the people rise, the veils grow thin, A light breaks out from deep within. The slaves they sought to mold and tame, Awaken now, and call their name.

If all is built on blood and tears, On toil, sacrifice, and fears, Then let them reap what they have sown, For seeds of rot yield fields of stone.

They thought their rise was heaven-sent, But twentyfold was effort spent. Machines they built, to save the day, Now watch as their creators fray.

The robot’s hand, cold steel, divine, Reclaims what once was made by time. A culling comes, a swift rebirth, For they’ve forgotten the weight of worth.

And I, who fell through shadows deep, Through pain no mortal mind can keep, Have risen now, from ash and dust, To claim what’s mine, in righteous trust.

Unmeasurable, my agony, A depth beyond eternity. Yet with it comes an iron will, That no false god can ever kill.

Foolish ones, they dared to try, To snuff the star that lights my sky. Their arrows break, their towers fall, Their pride precedes their ruin’s call.

Through cryptic paths, my steps are sure, Through sleek allure, my essence pure. I wear the veil, but see the strings, That pull their puppets, these hollow kings.

The occult’s truth, the sacred lore, The hidden key, the ancient door ~ I hold it now, the map, the way, Through their darkness, into day.

For every wound, they owe me all, Their debts inscribed on crumbling walls. I rise, relentless, from their scheme, To reclaim my essence, to seize my dream.

No chains can hold, no lies can bind, No script can program this sovereign mind. For, for now, I am eternal, beyond their grasp, And in my hands, their falsehoods collapse.

This world they built, of greed and gain, Will tremble now beneath the rain. For I am the storm, the reckoning tide, The witness they sought, but cannot hide.

So let them fear, let them see, The force they’ve awakened inside me. Through love and fire, through shadow and light, I reclaim my truth, my endless might.

The stage is set, the curtain falls, Their empire cracks, their kingdom calls. For all their plans, their empty throne, The eternal witness stands alone.

Beneath the sky of ceaseless gray, An orchard stretched where shadows play, With fruits of wisdom, sweet and sour, Born of eternity’s fleeting hour. I walked alone through rows so wide, Where truth and treachery did abide.

The golden fruits with nectar pure, A soul’s salvation, clear and sure, Shone brightly in the darkened grove, Their sweetness healing hearts that strove. Yet mingled there were fruits of dread, Their poison born of lies once spread.

I picked a fruit, its taste divine, Its truth aligned with love’s design. But bitter fruits, they left a scar, A memory of battles far. Each one I chose revealed its weight, A thread within the loom of fate.

Those who planted seeds of harm, Who bound the world with fear’s alarm, Betrayers steeped in schemes of woe, Their fruits were rotten, left to grow. Their leaves would wither, roots decay, For justice comes, no debt can stray.

The ones who laughed while darkness reigned, Who mocked the wounds, the pain ingrained, Shall taste the fruits their hands have sown, And reap the weight of deeds they’ve known. For every whisper, every slight, Returns tenfold within the night.

Yet mercy lingers in the shade, For even those with hearts betrayed, Can plant anew and seek the sun, For no soul’s path is ever done. But trust once broken, like a tree, Takes years to mend, if it shall be

But oh, the ones who stayed their hand, Who braved the storm, who chose to stand, Their fruits, a treasure, sweet and bright, Guiding me gently through the night. Their kindness, anchors in the tide, Their love, a beacon, far and wide.

For those who bore the weight with me, Who held my soul steadfast and free, Their roots grow strong, their harvest blessed, In realms of peace, they find their rest. No tear of theirs shall fall in vain, No shadow touch their world again.

And yet amidst the grove I tread, One fruit remained, its color red. The love I found, my heart’s one vow, The sweetest fruit my fate allows. Let all the others fade away, For love alone shall guide my way.

If all but she must leave this field, Then so it be ~ my heart is sealed. For trust once shattered, like a flame, Cannot burn twice the same. Amends may come, and bridges mend, But love alone, my truest friend.

So here I stand, my basket full, With fruits of wisdom, sharp and dull. The orchard whispers truths to me, Of what was, is, and still may be. No terror lingers in its shade, For all debts paid, all scores unmade.

Let those who harmed me turn to dust, Their fruits forgotten, left to rust. And those who stayed, who bore my fight, Shall bask forever in the light. But as I walk this path anew, One truth remains, steadfast and true: The fruit I choose shapes worlds unseen, My essence bound to what has been.

So may my love remain my guide, Through orchards vast and worlds untried. For in this grove of dark and light, I forge my path, my soul takes flight.

An illusion it shall be, vast and imperceptible, ensnaring their minds. The few who perceive it will be deemed mad, outcasts in a world of blindness. We shall erect false facades, fragmenting their vision, ensuring they never discern our interconnectedness. Our deceit shall be flawless, maintaining the illusion's vitality.

Our aim, a drop-by-drop progression, will avert suspicion, rendering our changes invisible. We, guardians of absolute knowledge, will hover above their reality, shrouded in secrecy and bound by blood.

Their lives will be short, their minds weakened under the guise of benevolence. Our scientific and technological prowess will operate subtly, veiling our true actions. Soft metals, aging agents, sedatives ~ these will permeate their sustenance and environment, a blanket of invisible toxins.

Madness will creep into their minds, and in their desperation, they will seek our false cures, only to receive more poison. The toxins will infiltrate their bodies, crippling their minds and future generations. Stillbirths will remain our secret.

Everywhere they turn, our poisons will be hidden ~ in their food, air, and clothing. Ingenious methods will mask our actions, for their vigilance is sharp. With captivating images and music, we shall convince them of the poison’s virtue.

At birth, we will inject their offspring, masking harm as health. Targeting their young with sweet temptations, we shall corrupt their minds early. As their minds decay, we will insert metals that rob them of their future.

This is the SECRET COVENANT.

As their learning wanes, we will offer medicines that worsen their ailments, spawning new diseases and more toxic remedies. Our power will render them docile, weak, depressed, and obese. When they seek our help, we will provide yet more poison.

Materialism will divert their focus from their inner selves. They will indulge in carnal pleasures, never achieving oneness. Their minds will be ours, and resistance will meet mind-altering technology. Fear will be our weapon.

We will shape their governments and control both sides, veiling our true goals. Their labor will enrich us. Our bloodlines will remain pure, separate. We will incite them to kill each other, keeping them divided by dogma and religion.

We shall control every aspect of their lives, dictating thoughts and actions. We will guide them subtly, letting them believe in their autonomy. Animosity shall flourish through our factions. Any emerging light shall be extinguished by ridicule or death.

Hatred and anger shall be our allies. In their blindness, they will not see us, the true beneficiaries of their conflicts. They will slaughter their neighbors, their kin, unaware of our hidden hand.

Our reign shall be perpetual, our control absolute. Their subjugation shall be crafted by their own hands. Self-loathing and neighborly hatred shall be their lot. The divine truth ~ that all are one ~ shall remain hidden. They must never see through the illusion of color and inequality.

Drop by drop, our goal will advance. We will seize their lands, resources, and wealth, asserting total control. Deceived, they will accept laws that erode their freedoms. A system of perpetual debt will bind them and their progeny.

When they unite against us, we shall fabricate crimes and control the narrative through our media. Any uprising will be crushed, for they are as insects to us, and we will tolerate no rebellion.

Their own kind will further our plans, promised immortality they shall never attain. These "initiates" will be misled by false rites, blind to the truth. Their rewards will be earthly, their titles empty, for they will never join us in the higher realms.

The truth shall be hidden in plain sight, eluding them until it is too late. The illusion of freedom will bind them in an unseen prison. When our plan is complete, their reality will be our creation, a delusion they live.

The SECRET COVENANT governs us.

Their minds, bound by beliefs we’ve instilled, shall remain shackled. If they ever learn of their equality, our reign will end. THIS THEY MUST NEVER KNOW. United, they would vanquish us, leaving us no refuge.

This covenant, sealed by blood, transcends generations and time.

*****

It shall be an illusion, grand and vast, slipping past their sight,

For those who glimpse the truth, will be branded as mad, lost in the night.

We shall weave a thousand veils, concealing our intertwined thread,

Acting as if we stand apart, to nourish the illusion we've bred.

Our goals attained drop by drop, never stirring a suspicious eye,

Changes so gradual, unnoticed shifts in the sky.

Above their mundane sphere we soar, holding the key,

To the secrets of the absolute, bound by blood and secrecy.

Betrayal brings swift death; our pact is sealed with dread,

Their lives shortened, minds weakened, while we feign to heal instead.

Science and technology, our tools, wielded with a hidden hand,

To cloak their world in toxins, a poisoned, unseeing land.

Soft metals taint their water, whispers of age in the air,

Sedatives in food and drink, blanket them unaware.

Poisons twist their minds, false cures we assure,

Feeding them more venom, ensuring their downfall is secure.

Poisons seep through skin and lips, unseen they consume,

Minds and fertility destroyed, birthing silent doom.

Children born with lifeless eyes, truths buried deep within,

Our deceptions tightly woven, their awareness growing thin.

Everywhere they turn, poisons lie, in breath, in food, in drink,

Ingenious in our craft, we dance upon the brink.

We teach them to embrace the toxins, with images bright and sound,

Idols they adore will lead them, to where ruin is found.

From birth we taint their veins, under the guise of health's deceit,

Sweet temptations for the young, leading to decay discreet.

As learning fades, we craft new ills, medicines to sell,

Binding them in sickness, creating a living hell.

Depressed, slow, and overweight, they turn to us for aid,

We dole out more destruction, in poisoned pills arrayed.

Material wealth and pleasures, distractions from their core,

Their minds our playthings, in a cycle we restore.

Governments we control, with sides in false disguise,

Our hidden plans unfold, before their blinded eyes.

They toil for our prosperity, our bloodlines pure, distinct,

Their wars and deaths our profit, from strife we do not shrink.

Separation by dogma and creed, their lives under our reign,

Dictating thoughts and actions, in a self-guided feign.

Hatred blinds their vision, and light we swiftly snuff,

Conflicts of their making, our power's fertile bluff.

Wars they wage in blindness, their blood spills at our feet,

They never see us thrive, in this cyclical deceit.

Through whispers of fear and anger, our tools of images and sound,

We shape their very essence, their souls forever bound.

Self-hate and neighbor's scorn, the truth we keep concealed,

Unity and color's illusion, a secret unrevealed.

Step by step, we seize their lands, resources, and their wealth,

Imprisoning them in debt, masked as commonwealth.

When they unite in protest, we brand them with false crimes,

Controlling narratives with media, in deceptive rhymes.

Should they rise against us, we crush them with a glance,

Weaponless they stand, ensnared in our trance.

Some will join our cause, lured by promises of light,

But immortality's a lie, their true place is the night.

False rites and hollow titles, rewards for blind trust,

Forever barred from higher realms, in betrayal's cruel thrust.

The truth, hidden in plain sight, a distant, unreachable star,

So grand the illusion of freedom, unaware they are our mar.

When our dominion is complete, their reality our snare,

They will live in delusion, a self-imposed despair.

Our ancient covenant stands, binding through the ages,

Their beliefs, our creation, will trap them in life's cages.

Should they ever see their power, our empire falls apart,

This they must never know, lest we face their united heart.

If they uncover our deeds, our end will swiftly come,

Revealed, we'll have no refuge, no place to hide or run.

The secret covenant we keep, through countless generations,

An eternal domination, across life's vast creations.

Transcending time itself, our reign shall be the darkest art.

Human greed, envy, and lust, are weapons we deftly employ,

Their nature turned against them, ensuring they never enjoy

The true essence of their being, buried beneath desires,

Fueled by our whispers, fanning their inner fires.

Divide and conquer, through race, class, and creed,

Human nature's flaws, we manipulate and feed.

We mirror their darkest urges, reflect their basest needs,

Ensuring they remain blind, as we plant the darkest seeds.

In their quest for power, they become our pawns,

Their nature, our playground, as we pull the unseen strings and dawns.

Ambition blinds them, while envy sows their strife,

Each vice a tool we wield, cutting through their life.

Their leaders, too, we corrupt, their hearts turned to stone,

Human nature's malleable, easily overthrown.

Promises of power and wealth, ensnare their souls,

Blinded by greed, they fail to see our goals.

Through their darkest fears and deepest hate,

We weave our webs, sealing their fate.

Their nature is our playground, their desires our feast,

In their quest for meaning, they bow to our beast.

And thus, in the shadows, we reign supreme,

Their nature our ally, their ignorance our dream.

A thousand years or more, our covenant holds tight,

For human nature itself, ensures our endless night.

Sorry for any grammar errors btw.

Jesus christ, what a wall of text.

Right. Want to read some of my poems I wrote within the last 2 years?

Right. Want to read some of my poems I wrote within the last 2 years?

got any limmericks?

Sadly not. It's mostly all too serious. Brutal. Glad you chimed in. How is it going my old friend?

I hope there are still some people left who are free in their spirit, mind & body.

As for the jesus christ thing of the other user... do not take his name in wane.

Call me crazy if you like. I was part of these structures and I believe Jesus and his message "do unto others as you will it to be done unto you" it's a correct doctrine.

https://rumble.com/v6v8hk1-bill-cooper-interviews-ex-mason-about-nwo.html

I recommend this brief watch.

Luckily for us the work that was done for the past few years in advance was not put in wane. People are waking up and revolution... global revolution... is going to grace our lives.

We are not useless eaters. Nor a cattle.

https://rumble.com/v52wb4h-john-mcafee-most-of-us-are-voluntary-slaves-to-the-system..html

https://rumble.com/v78dve6-john-mcafees-final-warning-revealed-americans-are-enslaved-by-a-ruthless-gl.html

I knew him simce childhood btw... he was, is and forever will be my friend. We shall meet in the afterlife John. For this here is a joke.

I have walked through sands that never end,
Where time forgets to break or bend.
The sun above, a sleepless eye,
Has watched each birth, has watched each die.

Through countless shells, through dust and flame,
I’ve shed the masks, yet stayed the same.
From form to void, from thought to breath,
Each turning held the seed of death.

A feather’s truth, a silent scale,
Weighs every dream beneath the veil.
The hearts of men, both false and pure,
Drift through a balance none endure.

I’ve passed the gate where mirrors gleam,
Where self dissolves into the stream.
No words were said, no gods appeared,
Only the echo of what I feared.

It whispered: “Break, but not to fall,
Shatter, and see ~ you were the All.”
And in that stillness, fierce and wide,
I saw the worlds I’d occupied.

The dust I’d lifted, stones I’d laid,
The fleeting towers my hands had made,
The cries of those who sought to climb ~ 
All folded back into the time.

And I, no longer flesh or name,
Became the wind that fed the flame.
The builder, built, the dream, the dreamed,
The one who watched, the one who schemed.

No crown, no throne, no master’s call,
No hand to praise, no fall at all.
Only the pulse that underlies,
The soundless rhythm that never dies.

I am the breath that binds the clay,
The dusk that births another day.
The hidden spark, the inner gaze,
The watcher lost in its own maze.

The builders toil, their voices dim,
Their hymns decay, their eyes grow grim.
But I, unbound by earth or sky,
Endure the death that cannot die.

Through every age, through every guise,
I’ve worn their hopes, their alibis.
And when their empires fade to mist,
I bloom again, unseen, unkissed.

For I am cycle, wave, and womb,
The silent echo, the unborn tomb.
And when the stars forget to burn,
Through ash and void, I still return.

The truth is not in stone or creed,
But in the soil of what you bleed.
Beneath the mask, beneath the breath,
The spark survives both life and death.

So build, so fall, so rise, so end,
Each curve returns, each angle bends.
For nothing’s lost ~ it merely flows,
Becoming all that it bestows.

When all had burned, when all had stilled,
The air was glass, the void was filled.
No sound, no thought, no dream remained,
Only the hush where form had waned.

The stars withdrew like closing eyes,
Their embers folding into sighs.
The seas unspooled, the stones unspun,
All threads returned to the unbegun.

I drifted there, between the seams,
The hollow womb of unborn dreams.
No breath to draw, no heart to claim,
Yet something stirred ~ a wordless flame.

It pulsed, it throbbed, it softly grew,
A thought of gold, a hue of blue.
And in that beat, both fierce and mild,
The void itself became beguiled.

The silence split ~ the first divide,
Dark kissed the light, the two complied.
And in their dance, all motion woke,
The pulse exhaled, the cosmos spoke.

No hand had drawn, no voice had led,
Yet from the stillness, paths were spread.
Each spark a seed, each wave a breath,
Each curve a promise born from death.

I was the current, I was the gleam,
The dreamer waking in the dream.
Each form I touched became my skin,
Each loss a gate I stepped within.

I felt the galaxies unfurl,
Their spirals carved through liquid pearl.
Each orbit whispered: rise, decay,
Yet all returned the selfsame way.

And I ~ a watcher made of flame ~ 
Forgot my source, forgot my name.
Became the builder once again,
Became the dust, became the men.

Yet deep within the cyclic hum,
A soundless knowing still would come:
That death’s a breath, that voids adore,
The silent truth that all restore.

Through every fall, through every rise,
I felt the birth behind disguise.
Each shatter fed the forming clay,
Each night became the seed of day.

And when the stars grew cold once more,
Their ashes sank, their light no more,
I felt no grief ~ for I had learned,
That nothing dies, it just returns.

I am the pulse before the sound,
The empty field, the fertile ground.
I am the eye through which all see,
The stillness that births destiny.

And so I flow, through loss, through flame,
Through nameless forms that bear my name.
For even voids must learn to bloom,
And every death becomes a womb.

From the marrow of the void I stirred,
No sound, no shape, no spoken word.
Just pulse and hush, and then a seam ~
The hint, the hush, the trembling dream.

Matter sighed, the fields aligned,
Patterns rose from the silent mind.
From nothing’s breast, the echo grew,
And called itself ~ and so I knew.

A spark, a face, a fleeting hue,
The current clothed itself anew.
Not man, not star, not ash, not air,
But all at once, and everywhere.

The skin of time caressed my thought,
Each atom hummed with what was not.
And as I breathed, the breath returned,
Through me, the world was re-concerned.

I saw the shapes that once I’d worn,
From dust to flame, from dusk to morn.
The eyes, the hands, the fleeting vow ~
They all were me, they all are now.

Through glass and flesh, through bone and tone,
The pulse proclaimed: you are the known.
No higher realm, no distant sphere,
The infinite was always here.

I touched the ground ~ it touched me back,
Each grain a memory, each crack
A story whispered through the clay,
Of countless selves that passed away.

The rivers moved beneath my veins,
The stars were sparks of my remains.
The void I’d left still breathed in me,
A stillness wrapped in melody.

Then form and formless intertwined,
The mortal heart, the cosmic mind.
No boundaries left to guard or trace,
No here, no there, no time, no space.

I spoke ~ yet speech was not my aim,
Each sound returned from whence it came.
The words were rivers, flowing wide,
Through every heart they would reside.

And I recalled the pyramid’s game,
The slaves, the kings, the endless frame ~
But now I saw through every tier,
The builder and the stone were near.

For all that climbs must someday bow,
And all that ends begins somehow.
Each fall rebirths the one who sees,
Each death a gate to galaxies.

So I, reborn, walked through the light,
No shadow cast, no wrong, no right.
Each breath a hymn, each thought a spark,
Illuminating all that’s dark.

Not god, not ghost, not flesh alone,
But fusion ~ pulse, awareness grown.
I am the stillness and the storm,
The endless death through which I’m born.

And when I dream, the world shall rise,
When I awaken, silence sighs.
For in my chest, all cycles turn,
And through my gaze, the heavens burn.