The Modern Man Has Been Perverted And Stupidity Promoted For Far Too Long... He No Longer Finds Joy In

The modern man has been perverted and stupidity promoted for far too long... He no longer finds joy in anything but what its money worth. It needs a new reintegration of its real values such as intellectual creation, family, ideology and exploration. A new Renaissance. A time for humanity to reflect upon itself as a whole and do something towards its evolution and not its blind dormancy...

More Posts from Scorpiondawnstar and Others

5 years ago

Who I am as a true mind and shape?

My gentle touch, my cold love enflamed?

What of my intent? My purpose, my goal?

What of my unhinged, released soul?

I am the darkness of the day

Where I move, the people change

For worse fates or for the better

As godwritten by the letter

My very mind was forged in shape

A cacophony of sounds melted by faith

Calmed by waters of love and hate

And sculpted in form of a beautiful blade

My reasons unknown shall today remain

For my love of life and light upon a fane

In stone and vines are shaped with thoughs

Forever bowed to the very gods

For what I am? A god descend?

A world's life, its very end

I shape and twist, I make whole plans

And conclude all here, with my very hands

As for you, my listener of sorts

I leave you a moment of silance for thoughts

A piece of my mind, more worthy then gold

May you use it well in your worlds untold

4 years ago

How long has it been? A moment untold?

A blink of an eye, an answer to hold?

What have I done to you to treat me like mold?

With so much hate, cause so much pain and be so cold?

Have I defied your crown, your rights, your land?

Have I not answered when you needed a hand?

Have I said other then the word you spred?

Have I taken from children you fed?

I wish to forgive the evil you planned and inflicted

As in books and tomes depicted

With a quick end and short body for my gull

My 7.62 bullet directed against your skull

Twinke, twinkle little fake...

Watch me kill that blasted snake...

5 years ago

Cure

What is a man in its whole state?

A creature of love, peace and good fate?

Or animal of war, disease and hate?

A pile of worms on a mountain of corpses

Unjustly murderd by its own forces

A world's suffering on concrete and steel

A worm named "Man", the Earth skin's peel.

And upon the damned world

You appear as flesh, a cure, of war

Beast in aspect and godlike untold

And the stench of rot in breath you hold.

You are the fire to cleanse this blight

A spawn of Doom and Hate, burning bright

A laying hand upon a world's soul

And the damnasion for a worm most foul

You are the cure for our world's hate

You are Death incarnate

7 months ago

Walking towards the Bucharest center when a raven decided I was a good spot to land. Right on top of my head!

3 years ago

Raised In the street as a mere dog

Hit for every piece of bread

Sleeping on a wooden log

Spit on everything I bled

 

Every day, night, heat or cold

Raised as dog treated like mold

Anger which hardened me when you all laugh

You've done your part. Now, feel my wrath!

 

I spare no woman or child as told

I bring ever burning doom unfold

It is the evil you so blindly serve

And cold justice which you so much deserve

 

Now scream in flames of your ignorance

Boil, for you are to blame

For the tears of your dying innocence

On the blade of your legacy, your fame

4 years ago

Raised In the street as a mere dog

Hit for every piece of bread

Sleeping on a wooden log

Spit on everything I bled

Every day, night, heat or cold

Raised as dog treated like mold

Anger which hardened me when you all laugh

You've done your part. Now, feel my wrath!

I spare no woman or child as told

I bring ever burning doom unfold

It is the evil you so blindly serve

And cold justice which you so much deserve

Now scream in flames of your ignorance

Boil, for you are to blame

For the tears of your dying innocence

On the blade of your legacy, your fame

3 years ago

Shre nazg golugranu Kilminudu

Obmi kuzdurbaghu gundum-ishi

Nugu gurunkilu bard gurutu

Ash burz-durbaghu burzum-ishi

Agh burz-ishi makha gulshu darulu!

Ash nazg Durbatuluuk

Ash Nazg Gimbatul

Ash Nazg Thrakatuluuk

Agh Burzum-ishi Krimpatul

Daghburz-ishi makha gulshu darulu

5 years ago

Rose

Standing on the center of worlds

Where doom burned down the wall

A daemon which no living holds

Accursed born of war

Dancing ashes of the dead

In air burning dispair

Fruitless to the gods they begged

Their ending lives unfair

Into the city of the damned

A daemon stands ever guard

His mace of living darkness slam

His judgment struck all hard

Blend into the very air

The voices of dispair

And from the ashes yet arose

Hope in the shape of a rose


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4 years ago

It is our very lives that protect our souls from the dangers of Chaos. The very fabric of flesh, in its own complexity, routine and ignorance that traps our souls within its grotesque walls and protect it. It is the soul that wonders endlessly for answers, ever thirsting for that power of creation that draws them into the abyss like moths to the flame, only to end beyond the same walls that chained it in the first place, overwhelmed by silance, oblivion and darkness. The very definition of Chaos. Flesh is not without purpose and neigher the soul.

The soul gives flesh a model to build itself by, to sustain itself using an order. Flesh is a massive walking, working tumor serving a purpose. It's born from flesh, it grows and dies, taking all the experience and memories with it, releasing the soul into the nothingness once more.

Have you ever wondered what would you tell about yourself if you could resurrect an older carcass? An old "you"? If only you would be able, one day, to rip a small piece of dirt from a graveyard and shape a long dead former self and have a conversation about yourself.

Life serves soul with experience, Death offers it a new perspective. In the end, it returns to universe. Chaos demands knowledge. Life grows it and Death delivers it. All to sustain the creation, develop it.

It Is Our Very Lives That Protect Our Souls From The Dangers Of Chaos. The Very Fabric Of Flesh, In Its
6 years ago

Love Letter

Love Letter

I think of us as a one true whole

To respect you for what you are

A body, mind, a soul and more

Beautiful as a burning star

I cannot say why, when and where

My life came to be as such

A life of bright love and fair

And changed and changes more and much

Your eyes like planets, your skin like snow

As delicate, shiny and purity that grows

Your hair so soft and shape so chiselled

Your voice like one thousand violins that whisper

I love your presence, the love you proove

The way you think, the way you move

I love the way you encourage me through

I love your words, I Love You

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