Buy ant box you learn about ant

 

 

 

Ant is strongest beast
Two ant

Ant is black is Yin is Western black evil forces

Ant is red is Yang is Comrade Ant

Comrade Ant! Watch hims carry each 20000 Comrade

Here Ant in study box
You buy Ant box you watch you learn
Watch to Ant you learn irreplaceable lesson of Comrade carry each others 20000 times his’s own weight. Ant Comrade work together with each other in colony of Red times!

Exultant I, amid the flames of smoldering Hell!
I lived and died with impetuous pride,
With lust to live and grimly die as well.
Contumely I wore as though a cloak,
To cover the barren waste inside.

To gain a hold against the king, your lord,
I smother joy with fuck-it-all-edness.
I piss on his lamb and rape the ram,
Unnaturally goaded by my lust for this
So-hateful death, condensed into a gram – and swallowed whole: take one each morning plus one at night.

"Hey god, fuck you," said a sinner one day.
"I don't believe Jesu died or even lived,
for you nor me, so plug the leak in your holy mouth."
O Satan who wields the proper power of death,
Take Jesu's maggots' last quickened breath.
I don't accept Jess in my heart, or in my shit,
But will gladly plunge myself into the Pit.
Should your holy spirit come in to my heart,
I will not delay...
I don't enjoy what you call his blessing...

"This reminds me of Satan ("I Am Your Addiction" passage). Satan comes to kill, steal, and destroy. Addiction is like Satan." Amanda Coyle

'The sky is gray as fuck,' he said;
'There hardly ain't no blue at all.'
The wandering, old and graying hawk
Still wings it over the mountain's tall,
Imposing heights of rock.
The creature whose so-stricken wings flap weakly in the woven air,
The chaos web it works upon unceasingly...

To those whose quanta can't conceive, of who or where,
That either can or can't -- we're careless, see?
The tauro-(e)sc(h)atoligic scents borne by windblown woes,
A thousand hundred phlegmful maws that hock their blackened indigos.

Unwholesome is the hunger of the worm of sin that grows
within my throbbing heart, that grows just as voraciously
as do the roots of the blighted oak, which roil and writhe below
the twilit forest whose soil drinks from the Eraszgian sea.

cuntless nuns

shitblack lifeblood river runs
as cold as loss of life or nuns,
who, cloistered in constipated sin
completely miss the point: "keep livin'!"

fragment

Woe ope nine doors to my starstair high
That steps up beyond the stultified flies.
A-wing they are, with aplomb they sigh -
Not fortune-favored nor cauterized.

fragment

 

On my way I pause to stand beside the grove
Where was seen old Pan, who sits among the sighs
Of the nymphs and natural female things
That delight and frolic toward his thighs.

fragment

Dont' show the way to me, O lord so-called;
Your way's a wornout path from out the woods
That leads away from the golden-walled Valhall.

Because the many come from the Ancient of Days
Who's one, no single path is there that leads...

fragment

 

Wherever the yearworn mandrake grows,
Amid thistles and gathering green mistletoes,
The manifestations of grief-engorged ghosts
Suffuse the cool air with their shifting shapes.

The thorn-threaded thistles atop the grassless knoll
Have wound themselves about the men whose long years
Are buried there beside the totem pole,
Where was erected eight tall ...

Beyond all bounds of space and centuries
Where demons of the ancient ages mass
To vie and gloat their victories
Vainglorious but fragile...

fragment

 

Alarm! the bells begin to ring and thunderingly sing along
With peals that rock and rend and crack the sky.
The boisterous blasts of the funeral gong
Embolden me to ask the question 'why?'

When Beauty brought down towering Troy,
Enfleshed in Helenwhore the Coy,
My soul erupted from the dark
Of Hades' tomb, whence came the spark
That set alight the paralytic parasite
Called Jesus Christ, the Nazarite...

Oh blazing rays from the stars above,
shed some of thy light upon this dark ground
and roiling ocean that move
along an orbit of the sun around.

Lines I just discovered, scribbled on beer-stained pages, written...who knows when?

The Epitaph of My Loneliness

Sing praises of your joy, but myself a pariah
Cannot partake, cannot gain your exlusivity of access,
When the muses sing your funeral's aria
I will be alone still, but laughing to excess.
Who will laugh? I!
_________________________________________

Unspeakable tenor (? sic), a tenor in the veins,

Courses through my blood straight to my brain,

To my soul, the heart of the thing --

O, how it is to feel Hell's sting!

This is one of those instances that I would pray

If I wasn't a godless man,

If I wasn't strong enough to stay

And take my fill of pain.

Now I know my life will never be the same,

That I was foolish to believe I could remain

Here in this depth of hopelessness, a mire

Of longing and woeful despair.

Speak, my sorrow (ach, so trite... -A), in tongues of sadness --

I am not long for this world, the coming madness...

Speak! clearly and with some power!

Leave no hint of ambiguity

In a statement of regret and error;

Speak for generations to come, for perpetuity.

______________________________________

My Lot

Wandering through a vacant lot

alone at night and lost in thought,

I fail to realize my danger,

for the people in this neighborhood are quick to anger.

I carry with me wads of cash,

with intent to spend them in a flash,

at some seedy bar or classy club,

where you can soak with dancers in a tub.

Still lost in thought I wander on

until there is an interruption.

Three hooded thugs, armed with knives,

approach me from an alley, but I don't realize

they're there before they've shanked me good --

I lie bleeding in this slummy neighborhood.

They grow alarmed but richer, then abscond

with my wallet, 'round the corner and then beyond.

I hear a distant wail of sirens blaring

as I look upward at the stars staring...

_____________________________________________________________________

How a petulant, obese woman who hobbles around like a retarded ape, that is, Ms. Ansley, can have such a high opinion of herself belies her honesty. There is no doubt that her title Ms. is appropriate, for no man would want her. She can barely walk, not because of any justifiable sports-related injury or accident, but because of her obesity. One must be healthy in body in order to be hale in mind --- this is a basic principle of human character. Thus I see that this so-called woman has none of the aesthetic traits of a woman, and is morally weak also. She compensates for her weakness by projecting an air of superciliousness with others, as thought to suggest that one has failed to meet her basic expectations in some area. This is a psychological gambit that she, perhaps unconsciously, uses in order to shield her waking psyche from some depradatory revelations anent herself.

 

Antifreeze Waterlillies

Gelid wind dances across the lake's surface,
A clear and sparkling lake
In a greenwooded mountain valley.
At the chill touch of the wind
Ripples flee rolling from the center
Searching for the dry shore,
Or the end of the world.
Drainage pipes pendent hang over the edge,
Secreted steel tubes encroaching
Into Nature's realm from Man's,
A plastic world past the vale.
They pour cool emerald fluid -
But it was green before...
The light bounces off of the tall trees,
Green and bright reflections on the water.
A frog's enthroned upon a lilypad
Of congelated antifreeze and insect waste,
An acrid alloy of preserved offal.
Pungent vapors rise high, so high
They make God faint on his cloud -
That's not rain, it's tears.
The planet's a mechanical marvel, manmade,
Innervated with steel veins,
And this lake's just another coolant tank
To keep the veins from bursting.
Ignis Terrae - and craters erupt!
There's a plume of astral exhaust
As we direct Earth for space travel.
All resources will be used for this journey...

Words written on napkin for stripper while drunk

Your beauty is indefinable
by words
or by symbols
God has no place here.


When I look into your eyes 
I see a plan that could not be devised
by God or Satan or Rhiel perspedy (? illegible)
welcome to 21st Century Age


When eyes might see
a sight that is (illegible)
or wonder why why (sic) my life (illegible)
an (or "is") width (?) of (illegible)-and-energy