Forethoughts on the Scarlet Folk
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How can one look upon the whore with digust! A thousand men would sing her singular virtues (the only one she shows to them that pay with money alone). People with twisted lusts in their hearts boiling under pressure from containment, people with the sickness of violence stroking their diseased brains inspiring tortures, people who lost it all and desire others to lose the same, enemy or friend, such are the people who see not one whit of glory in the moment of release, and put the shame before the deed, though only old parsons would say it should be found afterwords anyway.
A little less than two thousand years since a Master was supposed to have walked the earth, or so the stories keep being heard, and how the far-sighted pharisees and sorrow-hearted sadducees, it is said, 'verted the minds and hearts of pliable vessels, otherwise innocent organisms alive and pulsing with all their juices in place, unsqueezed by any but the most tender hands, and never spilt, no, never spilt in anything but sensual sacrifice, to fulfill their own fantasies and exhalt themselves in sacrifice endeathed upon that legendary character of merit. The truly wicked call us PAGANS... people of the dirt... and seek to seed it with OUR blood and corpses!
They! The enemies of life, the children of bad faith, the spawn of the mirror-image of righteousness, whose angels are surely demons from the pit, awash in the light of a vain-glorious burning of those simple saps which are but momentary fuel for. that which is but the works of these, that the truly backward are never set about to see with their eyes, all of them (as they were originated for), but no, instead they see with their images, inside and outside, the true idolatry, a cheap hypnotism repeated enough to afflict billions, but mostly millions, sense as that makes, if you have eyes to hear, and ears to see.
Perhaps a sweet seduction can unwind the tensions, just the right pressure applied to the boiler valve, just the right cut in the timer of he who would explode; all natural dreams deferred since early childhood, when they put us in desks, and in square formation instructed us on the things we needed to learn, instead of how to learn, which would be different for everyone, and too much for any sane teacher to take on for such pitiful pay, at least that's the excuse, and besides those who know how to think for themselves have been condemned since Eden, and maybe even Nod, marked for death by the blinded by faith, and succumbed to spirits, the "believers", who are numb even to the touch! Not even Keller's cure could save them...
Hyperbole perhaps, but it seems to be the case of the career criminals who seek to ruin the lives on the honestly 'sinful' (as they call them) the druggies, the whores, the adulterers, the fornicators, the heretics, the trannies, the infidels, the... the... the... gawd damn these are the very names THEY gave THEM, why would they, why should they name themselves after their oppressors's view. How beautiful names could be sung for these emperors and empresses of living and experience, names that could give hope, give reason for something new, not on the rubble of the old, but on the self-same ever-generating pulse that made it all happen in the first place.
This, known also as Thus, after the thought, is that: thou art fallen, but then was not down up, and up down. Thou art Risen, trusted, secondless in the first place!
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I was sold on the first sentence!
How can one??
Good question. -
Good rant indeed!