Oak McIlwain

Remember the story of the three little pigs?

What is your house made out of?

I’m sure they didn’t tell you there was a fouth little pig.

He decided to play in the mud instead of building a house.

Wondering all the while why a pig would even want to build a house.

The big bad wolf, believing that pigs only lived in houses, never even thought to check the mud puddle.

And thus the fourth little pig lived in peace.

The other pigs thought they had peace even though they were surrounded by the brick walls that the third little pig had constructed.

And although these walls provided a sense of security they also took something in return.

Occasionally they would look out the window at the mud puddle with a sense of curiosity and adventure but every time they did, they would remember the big bad wolf and would quickly go back to what they were doing.

Consciousness is that which is eternal, infinite and formless
If there was no field of matter, in which the only constant is change
Then life would be like looking into a kaleidoscope without any of the colour or movement
The play of life provides something awesome for the consciousness to witness

And to witness this ongoing miracle; the field of matter, requires complete silence within
Without this silence, the faculty of judgment will create an artificial layer between you and reality
By the cunning use of thoughts and words, which are blatant abstractions
And the use of images which are obviously imaginary, the mind renders the world arbitrary

The final truth of course is that there is no division between matter and consciousness
They are a single unified field which is beyond the comprehension of the human mind
This single field is the whole; The holy; God.
Which is, once again, just a word; an abstraction.

You must become silent within yourself.
Witness the beauty and wonder yourself.
And then you will see without the seer and know without the knower.
That god is all and you are god.

Imagine it. Look around bitches and then pull your finger out my ass.

So the tears of blood flow
I no longer need to know what you know
And have no need to go where you want to go

Your need to mate is much greater than the truth to create
You give in to fate in the shame of those others, second rate
You are no longer my friend; You know I’d love to pretend

Imagine me flying in eternity!

He is a fool
Over the edge of the mountain walking
And he has his eyes closed and
That massive inward grin on his face

Where is your soul my people?
Where is your soul my friends?

Do you enjoy your cage?
Or do you not even see the bars any more?

You’ve got my company but look at me with no trust
You’ve forgotten what it means to live
Fear is the blanket you sleep under every night
and it remains like a halo as you sip your tea
and the body holds the truth as you continue lying to me

And he grins in spakling coins
And you look on with a reptilian claw reaching out those gleaming eyes
All the while your voice betrays your blatant secrets

All along I thought it was me lacking courage
Then it all comes together and I see that you didn’t have the guts to be honest
And that you just fell meekly into line with the rest of Hitlers men

I just do what I’ve been told
I really don’t want them to come around
Oh no
Oh no. You know who you are.

There is no love here and there is no pain

Metaphysical Conjecture

Not quite complete. Posting so people can download to give me feedback.

If you rely on other people to define you. They will always define you as something limited.

First you must cast aside the opinions of others. Then you can experience yourself as truth; the unlimited.

Once you observe the threads of judgment, you realise that it is not the responsibility of others to stop judging you but your responsibility to become immune from judgment altogether. What people think about you is then irrelevant.

Creeping through the caves of old.
Searching for a rotting cadaver.
I want AIDS!
Let life kill you.

For millions of years I’ve wandered.
For billions of cult I’ve sod.
There is a darkness in her that’s hungry.
Sexuality.

On the seventh day there was blood.
And on the fourth she knows only sod.

Goat of the living dead!
Goat of the living dead!
Goat of the living dead!
Goat of the living dead!

I fucking thrust death inside you.
Spilling goatshit in troth!
Oh, it’s such a fucking mess.
Lean onto my throat and press.

Supposedly, she would hold a large butchers knife against the throat of the injured animal. Just before she orgasmed, the knife was thrust into the animal’s jugular. The blood would blossom. Once the animal had died, she would dismember the corpse and bury the pieces throughout her property.

Several months later.
The rotten limbs were exhumed.
She fucked the stench.
She.
Oh, shit, she was Goated!

And then, my friend, there was sod!
Goat of the living dead!

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Author: Buntz Doom

Forth: thine must be ushered.
Forth: into the conduct of Gringoid

It is imperative that the knowledge be imparted
Lest cast it away to be lost in the fire of time

Back in times of old
Whence barren women huddled around vulture corpses to feed
Was culted a way hidden from the lay man
The way of the gringoid

Spoiled was the vast land from the great ocean east
to the mountains, curving in a arch from west to north and east

Gone were the times of the banana paddle pop
The Twinkie; much culted, had dwindled in the lives of men

A rod was taken
and given and taken
A rod of sod
was given
Given and then taken
Taken; given taken

One lord of war was a devout follower of the ways
Blood was spilt
Through fear the lord held the sacred ground of sod
but in secret one of his cult deemed his testes foul in content
Years of fetid mcJizmo down a semi moistened passageway held sway
But in this event; the event of eventual dismay

Some say to be wary of Greeks bearing gifts
I say all but the gringoid shall perish

Those: foul women chewing vulture cartilage
Those: men who oppose the rein of sod
Thine: Becometh one with me oh demons, cast aside

A rod was taken
and given and taken
A rod of sod
was given
Given and then taken
Taken; given taken

infighting was plentiful

Riots: The last remaining Twinkies fuelled a violent uprising
Hidden: remained the last of the jewels of the old world
The holy rod in the well moistened passageway of the lord

Enshrined with all but the power to create
This is the divine fate of those who stand long

The heart of Hod
Shall lead the Gringoid
to the rod of sod

May it’s essence continue; unwaveringly
May the rod remain tainted; everlasting

Deepened.
Abyss of entrance.
With reverence, gaze unto the corn of ages.
With reverence, reduce yourself to a fine powder.
With social awareness, kill someone who is well-liked in the community.

I entered the abyss.
Faced with the corn of scorn.
I left.
Again, I entered.
I left…

I cannot wait to die.
I entered.
I left.
I often buy groceries late in the evening.
It’s a better way to shop, muchacho.

Oh, deepness is a virtue.

————————–
Author: Andrew Buntine

Open the gate.