The Logic of Void

Posit the void, let the rank and stale sink in with everything else to the fundamental zero in reference to itself and pale in comparison to the sheer potential of the blank canvas where you were in the beginning as a constant. Succumb to an endless end folded again and again, not for repetition, as each fold is different every time, but intermingled, as if coming from everywhere at the same time, this conglomerate ouroboros, can’t tell if head or tail 50/50 change. – What, then, reigns in this anarchy, if not nothing? And what is the war for, if not nothing? Who do you conquer, if not yourself? What do you refuse, if not the silence you can never hear? Who do you fear, if not the other? Who do you fuck when you masturbate?

The Apocalypse, if you will

You and me, now, dancing together, as the final snow drifts down. You can gouge your eyes out, if you must. If you choose to blame sight for what can be seen. But I do think, that such a dramatic gesture would be more a refusal to see beyond duality, than an actual encounter with an absolute that could negate the will to see. As there is no devil, there is no god here, except the ones in the make, and as it is a collective effort, We is its name in good and the worst. The end of divine scripture is the beginning of history. Thus history is not about to end, it is about to begin. (It can begin only when the absolutes are left behind) But be aware: De te fabula narratur. It is you that is being narrated. As plural as we are, we write it, so that we wouldn’t have to be as if we came out of nowhere, be so close to nothing, as if it was yesterday, and we had no past nor base. The Apocalypse, if you will, in the collective nerve cortex, after which creation could begin again, if we stop negating ourselves by the force of our nature and refuse the internecine opposition with everything, because we refuse nothing. And to accept nothing as the limit to everything, as radical as it is, it is what sets us free. What fate there is, is written by us, by our choices on the perilous fabric of conditions, that is, the physical limit of our will, beyond which we have no authority. So, admit, please, that your will is your own, and not that of the others. You are no measure to the sum that vastly outnumbers you, nor can the others define you as you are. The subject is not its cause the way being is its own cause. The will to die is granted, as is the will to live – for no reason. That is how open it is to be when you have nothing behind you. And are not these, the will to be and the will to die, of the same refusal, but turned against the self, when you curse sight and abort being, when you want to be forever the same and cancel being as such? A matter of determination, and not empirical, by definition, even if often repeated as a conclusion – as if a conclusion had ever ended anything. The conditions will not cease to alter, nothing I say can and will remain the same.

Dry Humor

Sometimes I decry my own humorlessness and the subjective state of my being. I have to be me. And not a bird in the sky, the evening breeze. I have tried to be open to otherness and for sure it is there, here too. Within us, and then I remember again that we are not alone. But that is subjective too, how we experience otherness. And sometimes I’m humorless. It may distort but not cancel the fact that I have a deep yearning beyond me, sincerely and fundamentally. And it should not be mistaken with the death-instinct. It is the living otherness I am for. And not the one promising freedom through abstainment and death. My bones love you deeper than vacillating humors. And that it is beyond me makes fulfilment real.

The Endless Other

 

 I have begun

that is why I'm here

and yes, it could have been

any other way too

but that it came to this

makes me too

and it is limited

to having been

what it was.

Yet still growing

on this eternal moment,

aching to fill the gap

where nothing is

to drain the self

into the other

and chase the limits

beyond being

to where nothingness

loves everything.

Wolf Division

"My name is legion, for I am not one but blenty."

We we will drive the sheep

off of the cliff, and feast

on their mangled remains,

because they try to subdue us,

as if we were animals.

And yes, we are,

when war calls us.

The world is already burning,

so pour fuel into the flames

for all that they have done to us.

This is our time, the great serpent rises for it has heard us howling in our pain.

We will bring back the landscape

of fear.
Now hear the Gjallarhorn,

it's tremor shakes the earth

and we march to war against all tyranny.

Sic semper tyranis.

What is necessary.

c: Elea Grammatico

 

The implementation of the imperative logic was a matter of survival.

It conditioned the worlds economies to continual growth to support the arms race since the early empires. 

Now it is a matter of survival to decondition humanity out of that deadly competition.

In stead of maximization and domination, minimization and cooperation.

Consider the acknowledgment granted. We are human.

We are powerful as attested by our power to destroy.

We are equal in our right to exist, but refuse that and the resistance will be total.

 

 And the holocaust is on the one that innitiates domination,

 because to take authority is to take responsibility.

Henceforth it is the will to dominate that is hostis humani generis – the enemy of all that is human.

The necessity of this is existential and acute.

Good night and good luck.

 

Sonderkommando

commons.wikimedia.org

 

To firmly state

under a sky stripped of all myth:

Today I die in protest

of the arbitrary logic of

domination that here

dominates absolutely

and eradicates all reason

that might have been.

From my subjective part

I can end all presence and participation

with such a horrid crime.

And then there would be no one to explain to

that even this was futile and counterproductive

as I saved them the effort

of annhiliating me.

Yet I hear the ravenous call to dominate

like a constant air raid siren

that screams for the terminal solution.

If you don’t actively support it

you have no rights what so ever

and you can be executed at sight

as guilty beyond redemption.

Your only option is when to volunteer

in a deathsquad fully aware

that genocide is suicide

and you will be killed

after the next mass grave is dug,

becuse your services are

no longer worth the risk

of witnessess left behind

this crime against humanity.

A genocide is something that

when you do it live on the mainstream

unapologetic and unwavering

there will be those that salute you

just for the sheer size

of your balls.

Whether this growth is tumorous

remains to be seen.

Although, it does smell like gangrene.

And it does appear viral in origin,

because, for once, it is the truth,

and therefore sacriledge

to those populists

that categorically refrain from

using the truth,

as if it would demonize them.

As if they were almost absolutely wrong,

and ugly like cancer

for saying the things

that the desperate and deprived

of meaning want to hear.

Sometimes they want both genocide and suicide

not quite knowing which is which,

because that is what despair does to you.

And you, you have decided to beg

for the honor of having an audience

with the powerful, in stead,

to ask to be buried in the hole

you hereby volunteer to dig.

Not because you believed in their

divine right to rule just because

god is not there to stop them.

But because you no longer

want to have anything to do

with this being that forces you

to make the choice as if it

was the only fortress left unconquered

and where freedom and integrity

have taken their last refuge.

Oh, I do volunteer,

come get me, for I

absolutely refuse

such terms.

Cannibalism is not a taboo

for the resistance

that is born in me

now that I have come to know you

because you have chosen power

over life

and become hostis humani generis,

the one whose murder is a humane act.

It was always you who begged to be put down like an animal

and that in fear of those who would fullfill your wishes

because you know you would, gladly,

if your power was synonymous to impunity.

I can tell you, I refuse you completely,

even if you were god,

because the power you assume

would make you responsible

for all the horror there has ever been.

I would always volunteer to fight you

even if that meant an immediate death sentence

when caught.

There is only nothing that can redeem you,

the faster I am rid of you the better,

so if I have to die I will,

and if I can, you will.