The opposition Carcinogenic sweat that hides The persecution These hidden walls keep us aligned Yeah, they keep us in line Fourteen hours more Covert tonight The operation A covert plan to get outside The consecration An archetype of a will that shines Shining alive Will you die or can we keep you alive?
When there is a machine gun on every corner You won’t see me
When your every move is monitored You won’t see me
When there is a federal eye in every household You won’t see me
And when it’s all too late You won’t see me
Ten A.M. · Snapcase End Transmission ℗ 2002 Craft Recordings., Distributed by Concord.
Energy Given freely Is as breathing For me Understanding Until now, ive had so much of it But, frankly I Am Utterly Exhausted I Speak Truth I Endless hope I Set Boundries I Don’t give up ……Why do I feel guilty?
Truth I am prey Human predators smell empathy As Sharks smell blood in the water Allowing myself to be used without equal reciprocity Used Endless cycle(s) of neglect Affection to weapon Sex to Weapon Shrunk as weapon Tool of endless emotional grounding Control Power Stability Comfort
I Am Tired …….So very very tired And I’m afraid I Have Changed I Am Broken Victim Survivor Pariah
A life devoid of touch, love, passion, a pillar of rough-hewn granite, to make other’s lives more comfortable so they don’t have to feel guilt. A mirrored avatar to reflect what they want to see; taking responsibility for the cowardly acts of their Phantoms. Selfish Ideological Narcissists, making victims that exist in the interstitial spaces, Acceptable losses in the war. A living taboo, stigmatized, no one wants to touch this flesh, it is taboo made real. Aged masculinty shattered into dull edges, ego ripped out, longtime ideological identity destroyed; the devouring mother’s hunger satiated.
I no longer want to try to identify with anyone, as anyone, or with any group. All are phantoms. The gulf is now infinite. Not your spaces in-between, because nothing exists on either side. Playing my part in the background, while the Phantoms roleplay; it’s the curse of total detached awareness & empathy. Pain hidden in the shadows, invisible to all.
Pariah is my rightful place, I am the sacrificial king: I will let this demon eat my soul.
……and I will REVEL in the consumption
One with the Pariah that haunts the interstitial spaces
the Pariah that whispers to the phantoms in your nightmares
Except for the most important space, which has been void for ages. The void is immense, and I doubt now it will ever be filled again.
Things, nicknaks, books in towers, shoes upon shoes, pans atop pans, prints upon prints. So many “things”. Things purchased not out of need, but to fill someone elses void. Things saved and forgotten in boxes, to collect dust for nostalgia? Need?
No amount of organizing, cleaning, no matter how much you do ever matters, nor works. The teetring mountain of things will overwhelm you, it will tip over on you and you will become lost in the clutter.
When you realize that you are part of the clutter, just another thing with no space left for self. So you forget who you are, and give up more space until you are part of the background, part of the clutter in someone elses life.
Then you become the house, to hold the clutter. The Foundation, encompassing all, keeping things safe, keeping the peace, like Atlas all of the weight is on your shoulders.
Then you disappear, until you speak up, only to be given a performance to pull you back, to get you to go silent, to forget again, to meld back into the clutter. To get you to be a creek in the wood of the foundation on a freezing day.
Woe, my story is the story of millions of others, both men and women, i know im not alone in this tale. Just another fool/tool; be it fear of being alone, or keeping your honor and word out of pride, or not giving up in the face of overwhelming defeat. Where is the logic in any of that when you finally realize you are a thing? Knowing that you are a provider, a foundation, the protection, but not valued or recognized for any of it, or shown real affection or love. You are just a thing to be used for the comfort of others.
This my dear, is what fools do. Maybe im the king of fools. To know the truth, walking that fine line between speaking truth to power, but at the same time knowing you’re the punchline of the biggest self-owning joke of all time.
Actually, on second thought, Mike Ness can keep his crown. I have no need to be the king of anything.
This is a long read. Just a quarter of this novel I wrote awhile ago. I cringe at some of it, because I was younger, with a great lack of wisdom. Although I think I caught detail of the action pretty well.
I don’t usually preface my prose, but I think this one is important that I explain. This peice comes at the end of a hard year plus of soul searching after acknowledging to myself that I was sexuslly assaulted. After nearly two years plus I buried it deep, but in the fall of 2024 on a cold morning while filling my car at Costco it all came back and hit me like bricks of ice. I barely made it through the day at work, but I did it somehow. All assault victims experience the same things, but men especially white men are given very little acceptance or grace by soceity as a whole, left & right ideologies judge heavy on your worth after, or even your right to claim victimhood in a world that wants you silent. It took most of the year to consider myself a survivor.
I guess its the times, but I have spent a very long time pondering aggreivment after being swallowed by it and spit out. The pull to hate and rage at those of the opposite sex was strong, some days it had consumed me. Too blame ALL women for the actions of a few, is absurd! I don’t want to be bitter or aggrieved, I think this poem captures the toxic cycle of aggreived victimhood. I had come to terms and this poem exposes what it is. Yours, Jake
Why does the bar tip the other way, while trying to equate and balance both sides? to much weight on one pan the fulcrum tilts, the beam always holds, the beam always wins
the villians are now the oppressed, the once oppressed villians
Transmutation of suffering into bitter rage Alchemized survivor becomes the predator
Spittle & spite Vengance so bright Inferior to superior Your Humanity now blight
My dear organizing systems forming entwining, no boundaries of the bottomless hunger of self-righteous rage the victims, the survivors
It doesnt matter to It who is in control, It doesnt care about justification, the thing exists.
Hoary worm of eons crushes bones, devours flesh, pukes blood, gnashing sinew, slurps guts, sucks entrails smashed made into mash Bulbous rot, engorging the gullet, suffering inside the gaping hole, digested birthing vile gas from the fermented bile of humanities sins
Orborus the obese worm, engorged distented on your suffering; prey-as-to-predator-to-victim-survivor-as-to-predator…as-to-victim…it’s the sweet….
Okay people out there in WP land this is a difficult question and one that is very hard to answer.
It gets worse if you have diverse musical genres you enjoy and listening moods that you mold the music around your feelings or state at the time.
Personaly; punk, hardcore, metal, & rock have been my main as well as many of the sub-genera’s of them all. Dark wave, industrial, blues, Ambient, folk, Folk Nordic metal, old country and bluegrass. I also like classical, early rap, more jazzy hip-hop/trip-hop or political (here’s looking at you Public Enemy) rap. I’ve never much been into pop, but PJ Harvey, Lady Gaga & Billie Elish i have a soft spot for because of their voice, they speak their truth’s, and the dark feminine nature they exude (Check out Chelsea Wolf). Im not a swifty but I like that she speaks out her politics and stands her ground.
So I im going to try to answer one of the questions I asked above and of course it is not 100%, but my favorite band(s) of all time goes to CLUTCH. Every song is a story, the lyrics build it into a saga, and the music a foundation for a mythology.
I first saw them in my brother’s basement in Madison, WI. Everytime I see them it’s like meeting up with an old friend.
Released 1991
Released 1995
Released 1998
Released 2013
Released 2022
Clutch Clutch Album Cover 1995
Honorable mentions go to Carcass, The Dead Boys, Mastodon, Gwar, Godflesh, Boy Sets Fire, Paradise Lost, Subhumans, Grinch (west coast progressive hardcore), Bahaus, Circle Jerks, Black Flag,Amy Winehouse, The Cure, Beethoven, Curve, Public Enemy, Anthrax, Conflict, Brian Eno, Front Line Assembly, Skinny Puppy, Chelsea Wolf, Suldusk, Swallow the Sun, Red Fang, Melvins, My Bloody Valentine, Coil, etc…etc…etc…etc.…
Released 1986
Released 1992
Released 2019
Released 2006
Released 1991
Released 1977
So what do ally’all like? Can you answer this question?
History teaches us a lesson about what the majority of the insanely rich and powerful become, how their brains devolve into psychosis, those that exist “As Above”; viewing the rest of us as meat bound chattle, flesh to be exploited, blood to be guzzled, to kill us with impunity, injure us, as if swallowing and bathing in the blood of virgins & the young can unwrinkle your skin or stop the ends of your DNA strands unraveling. The ultra-wealthy the powerful (abomination), these people use your labor, use disease, abort your health from the pollution they dump in your air, your water to make profit, use everthing to enrich themselves futher and steal your power, your health, & your confidence. The supposed miracle of laize-faire capitalism birthed into bloody flesh ripping cannibalism, disembowling itself, hedging itself, gorging itself on it’s own innards, betting on failure, only to leave shit, piss, bile, and gnashed bone.
Make you small, weak, prey.
Keep Rotting in the Free World
Consumer or consumed, your life is cheap Economic salvation in sweatshops returned from the east,
Despair the only quality of strife,
A reason for existence if you can afford the price,
If your price is right
250 years of the USA and it has birthed another generation of Nero’s, Bathory’s, D’sade’s, Caligula’s; your Maxwell’s, Diddy’s, Epsteins, Trumps, Fergusons, intelligence agencies…..we have called them the wealthy, rich, celebrities, CEO’s, intellectuals, left right, liberal conservative.
Ghouls who survive on the cannabilism of their fellow human beings. Spheres of power, as a super predator, you are the prey. They rape, commit genocide, murder, pollute and without question prove that wealth & power twist their humanity into abomination. Each inch given by us, the unwashed riff-raff, brings humanity a few feet closer to speciecide. The instable hunger of the abomination from insane levels of concentrated wealth and it’s self-serving power.
Multiple spheres of power coalesce, using other’s for the physical manifestation of their cruelty. It’s not enough to raise the prices of medication, or dump PCB’s in the water, force hunger, or steal your labor; they need to exert that power on living targets they can touch; deflowerimg by the domination of the powerless, those invisible. Rape is the goal, seeing the cruelty they created by their own hands, yielding that power must be seen physically and mentally on a victim, to enforce the fact that they beleive themselves “On High” over the rest of us who do not exist in their incestual nucleus of spheres; to manifest it, on a small scale for selfish gratification. The sweet suffering of the helpless; A sacrifice to their gluttonous god they worship: Themselves!
Bathing in your arrogance, dining will ensue God made me a cannibal to fix problems like you
I heard this song after Trump was elected the second time. All I can say it’s fitting for those who complained the first round about the corrupt grifting Fool King, but quickly became apathetic & drowned in the temple of self again, when Biden was elected. I blame those who didn’t vote, the self-gelding of the left, the democrats cutting off their balls, and apathetic people for this second round of Trump. Republicans & MAGA were known quantities, they didn’t lie about who and what they would do. The right has built a 50 year infrastructure to take over the nation fueled by billionaires, not a conspiracy, reality.
Trust my dog Shut your eyes (you’re dead)
Televised mass poison spitting at the screen Keep the masses deluded with fabricated dreams Powdered God in a bag from the Vatican I want you to fuck off as hard as you can
Relax God is in control Watch the dot Take your meds Obey my demands Trust my dog Time for surgery Relax God is in control Watch the dot Take your meds Obey my demands Trust my dog Shut your eyes (you’re dead)
Heaven has burst open, now it’s raining bones The chaos will erode you, breeding little clones Born of a fallen rib from the monkey’s womb Overcooked by cathode rays, evolved to consume
100% 100% 100% 100% (fucked)
(Relax, God is in control) (Watch the dot, take your meds) (Obey my demands, trust my dog) (Time for surgery, relax)
Eating from the butcher’s slab, becoming what they meet Restrained and roasted while they gorge, strapped into the seat Bathing in your arrogance, dining will ensue God made me a cannibal to fix problems like you
Relax (God is in control) (Watch the dot, take your meds) (Obey my demands, trust my dog) 100% (Relax, God is in control) (Watch the dot, take your meds) (Obey my demands, trust my dog) 100%
Last time was the last time This time you’re 100% Last time was the last time This time you’re 100% Last time was the last time This time you’re 100% Last time was the last time This time you’re 100% Fucked
Written by: Learmont Karl Thomas Album: Krankhaus Released: 2006
I have no white whale to consume my soul, I am that white whale. Born a beast a monster: failures, oppression, hurt, murder, rape, death, genocide, femicide, and even your internal misery. I am your enemy i am your monster.
qualities you possess, your biological virtuous signaling superiority; a kingdom built of rage safe space for authority victimhood aggreivment gives you power, self righteous-justification, superior unquestioned objectification
of me, the white whale
pluck out my eyes, spear my flesh, spill my blood, sickle my fat, bind my girth, blind me with your spit, hell hath no fury like your scorn upon me, i am your monster, your beast, a sacrifice for the goddess your ruler above, penetrate me, rape me, a mangled object your conquest that was born guilty
Yes be Ahab, understand While lashed on your shattered ship Sinking into the ocean abyss
”Damning yourself was a choice, you created your end by decision, your agency was your own.”
“Never understanding the nature of revenge while you let me consume your soul, do you understand you never were free, as long as all your thoughts were always centered on me.”
I, the white whale swims free, I will forever, be the last thing your living eyes ever shall see
So back in 2015 I stopped using Facebook and Social media all together, i did have a My Space before that. In-between I dabled in Reddit, twitter, and Instagram all of which in my point of view are cesspools. Not that I’m a saint, but I detest those who catfish & scam, trolls, asshole partisians, virtue superiority signaling, maga, aggreivment gender supremacist, trauma grifters, and the general way people treat eachother with disrespect and make instant judgements on your life and character. Also, the stalkers, who go after you, plenty of those ass hats.
I orginally quit social media in 2015 for two reasons, with my friends it felt hallow and fake why not just talk, the second was how MAGA used it with Cambridge Anylitica to get Trump elected, blatant manipulation and FaceBook was cool with it: that was to me grounds to tell FB to fuck off. I haven’t been back since, nor Amazon for that matter. I’ve always made decsions based on my politics and where I spend my money and what platform I allow to advertise to me i take important. One of the reasons I left Substack, because it’s owned by a libertarian tech bro. After the Charlie kirk assination they let MAGA gaslight and make death threats for at least a week. I have no doubt just like Zuckerberg & X, soon as a writer or blogger they will write into the terms that your work, copyright, or IP will no longer be protected.
The thing that disappoints me the most about social media is relationships with other people, or the superficiality of them. I am a person who always is trying to “bond”. I’ve found that the vast majority of people you think you are bonding with are not treating the experience of learning about eachother the same way you would physically, as in face to face. It’s as if the wired has a “buffer” that keeps these bonds that you build from ever becoming reality. I can’t imagine how it is to date with online apps, it must be like going through a menu at a 24 hour greek restaurant at 3am with a bunch of other drunk people.
In December of 2024, I went back in and to blueskye trying to push back against X like many X’ers, then came WordPress for my writing, then I left both for Substack in may of 2025 (also, partly because a WordPress writer was actively gaslighting me). I went to SS just when the notes part (the social media part) of SS came online. Though, I met a lot of cool people on Blueskye & Substack many who had helped me through some of the toughest emotionaly horrible months of my life, there has been only one that I have a meaningfull relationship with that I have from all of it.
The cruelty I faced for coming out regarding my assaults was sometimes overwhelming. The anger and spite directed at me for speaking out just to be heard, the cruelty, the hate, the rage. I finally had enough of it on SS too, like I had on Blueskye. Living with an assault considered taboo, I have no idea what I was thinking trying to find answers on social media sites. I was desperate just to find some grace in a world that views you as a villian at birth, even though you were not the villian, and the experience goes against the narrative.
Now, I plan on staying on WordPress. The last year has been an education for me. Social media is not for some people, I am one of them.
I’m a writer, on the darker side, and a terrible artist, but what I show you and what you read is genuine, it’s from my heart and mind. The majority of the art or images I take myself.
I give you me and I ask nothing from you in return.
Each of us is a temple of ego: a beacon to the uncaring universe, that has no value for organic, the growth, over the membrane of existance.
What? You think that you are the pinnacle of creation (or evolution for the atheists)
How precious?
We, you, us, an abberation in the universal plan. We know existence is a curse. The Increased organization & order brings suffering, losers in an extistance that will disappear, we are nothing.
Fighting against the entropy of bliss, we are the chaos in a reality evolving into absolute nothing, perfection.
I write this to make us small? Is this an excerise to crush your ego? Or to test it?
Ecoheretic 