Decrypted ( Will you cut my meat for me )( a new front end for the hard of thinking) Point
me to the Ship
Point
me to Mystery
Point
me to the Pangolin |
Encrypted ( Help me mummy,
its all gone scary monsters )
Tabula Smaragdina 1. Speak not fictitious things, but that which is certain and true. 2. What is below is like that which is above, and what is above is like that which is below, to accomplish the miracles of one thing. 3. And as all things were produced by the one word of one being, so all things were produced from this one thing by adaptation. 4. Its father is the sun, its mother the moon; the wind carried it in its belly, its nurse is the earth. 5. It is the father of perfection throughout the world. 6. The power is vigourous if it be changed into earth. 7. Separate the earth from the fire, the subtle from the gross, acting prudently and with judgment. 8. Ascend with the greatest sagacity from the earth to heaven, and then again, descend to the earth, and unite together the powers of things inferior and things superior. Thus you will obtain the glory of the whole world, and obscurity will fly far from you. 9. This has more fortitude than fortitude itself; because it conquers every subtle thing and can penetrate every solid. 10. Thus the world was formed. 11. Hence precede wonders, which are here established. 12. Therefore, I am called Hermes Trismegistus, having three parts of the philosophy of the whole world. 13. That which I had to say concerning the operation of the sun is completed. The Tablet has been read times.
How did, I get here? How do I leave... Professori my eyes, my eyes
|
A Variety of Fragments. Being a variety of thoughts on the nature of the Parliament Eternal The thirst, the cursed, the damned, the lost Our brothers all, who share the cost. from " The Rules of the Incarna " by J Spence " The distinctions in type between those afflicted with the hunger are in my opinion, fine. They are all creatures of shade, who in their unliving corruption follow a path of blasphemy. They are a race apart from the ( parchment here spoiled by water ), but they have much of that kind's contempt in their veins. I am unaware of why this disease should walk in so many guises, but I believe that the madness of their thirst, makes them malleable to the darkest side of that most sacred wooded place. In some the hunger is passed like the plague, its victim's degenerating, imprisoned in decomposing immortality. In other's the curse brings only a midnight majesty. The sight of Iblis has a thousand eyes. The Kryvopijac, with its half collapsed face, shunned by the virginal. The many formed Varcolaco, shifting its way into the arteries of a family, unless fixed down and deep with a fork of cold iron. The Farkaskoldus, its dying moments spent as a revenging wolf. All these have I seen, and to all these I have brought rest. These nightmares, these are our work, these are our fear. Deadlier still are those who would choose in full intelligence this maleficence. I have seen both philosopher and artist, seduced into embracing this way. Some are intrigued by its dark mystery, pitying we who cannot revel eternally in their sensual completeness, but in truth they are cruelly deluded. Our world, to them a construction of confining illusion, is as true as their's, as rich as their's. They are not more soulful, more acutely aware of sorrow, they are not better than us. They are the sickness of hurtful individualism, the obsession of self, without self reflection. They add nothing, they provide nothing, indolent parasites living on in their deceits until such times as they are thrust out into the light. They are not demonkind, they are not nephilim. They are greedy, and they will die, and if in all of creation one thing deserves it, it is without question the Vampir. They have indeed a path, unnamed until now, but named here in jest, by this humble Turk, after the lesser brother of mine own trade. Their's is not a common way of Witchcraeft, with its rituals and mendicant masters, oh no no fellow traveller, their craeft is leechcraeft. " from ' Kraljevic's Lucifulgi ' attributed to Leyden the Sage from "An Uncertain Journey"
Chicken in the ring, who wants a piece of wing: The Last Trump Pirates with attitude, or failing that opinions. Bag of Ants If you don't want to curl up with a good book, why not curl up like an endangered species. Bitey Biteys? ... Whittle Whittle... lovely lovely fence. Reality check, wherein you can buy real estate presumably, or something. My spelling isn't great. On evil's pillow Satan Trismegist our ravished senses at his leisure lulls And all the precious metal of our wills Is vaporized by this arch scientist Baudelaire |