Malediction

Now cursed be thee who would ruin our fair land
And cursed be thee that would seal up the wells
And cursed be thee that abandon the Gods’ hands
And build a strange place for our people to dwell

Now cursed be thy breath
And cursed be thy breathing
And cursed be thy eyes
And cursed be thy sight
And cursed be thy hands
That have slackened the harvest
And closed the old ways to the joy and the light

Now cursed be thy name
All cursed and forgotten
All cursed beyond memory
Place or recall
And cursed be thy soul
Out of nothing begotten
Nothing to no thing
And nothing to all

Now cursed art thee
Who have ruined our fair land
And cursed art thee
That sealed up our wells
And cursed art thee
That abandon the Gods’ hands
And have built a strange place
For the children to dwell

Nauseatingly banal

I hate your prefabricated sorry excuse for culture. Your music, your books, your pretentious ethics make me sick to my stomach. Even your science has now been demoted to a dogmatic mechanism completely focused on perpetuating your materialistic world view, constantly creating more mindless consumers. You have become so attached to this way of existence that has been manufactured for you, that you don’t accept any thought unless it has been presented to you beforehand.

Moooo.

Obviously, you deserve all of the above.

Actually, you deserve, and get, even worse.

An ode to joy

The number of the few
The stagnant multitudes
The hour approaches
And we exult in moment

A pit of burning corpses
And sing
An ode to joy

Hail to the lions!

Hail to the lions, for many and new years.