Tag: legion

Two Horns are  Blowing, Like a Thief in the Night He Comes

falsepromisenouveauLeave a comment

“I am no god but I know God. I Am is God. There is but One. He speaks to all, but few listen to His Word.” The stranger spoke into the mob. Standing firmly upon the truth, he showed no fear.

“Blasphemy!” Shouted the crowd of fools. They were of the one who claims to be the jew but is circumcised only of the flesh, decendant of Jacob but not of Israel.

Before their anger and fury the stranger stood unflinching. The only reaction observable was the soft sound of disappointment escaping through his deep intake of air and slow, quiet release.

“I am an heir of Abraham. I have faith in his seed. That promise made to Abram, Isaac, and Jacob was made for all the families which walk the earth. On this promise the Testaments stand though the first has ended, the second remains. Soon even that may change when my Master returns.

I am a Jew as well as Semite. Curcumcised of the heart and filled with the Spirit, I am of the tribe of Israel. No redefining or reformulation of understanding can erase that. Engraved by the Almighty, how vainly do you scub and scrap upon the stone which this Church is built.

Behold the Temple.

Being but a lowly servant in the order of Melchizedek, king of Salem, priest of El Elyon, God Most High, I can only give you my own testimony of the coming day:
Look, see the High Preist, the Son of God. His eyes are fixed upon you. His voice calls. It is your free choice to blot out your own name or to clearly write it in the Book of Life. It is your choice… a choice not given to the angels. They with great jealously and envy look upon those made in God’s own image with little compassion. They serve the will of God, the good and bad, without fail.
Repent for your iniquity is great.”

With great gnashing of teeth, and tearing of their clothes, the masses seethed.
The bearing of impending retribution and the baring of their transgression burned like a hot coal to them.

The stranger knew what was to come.

“Do not rebuke a mocker, or he will hate you; rebuke a wise man, and he will love you.”

A torrent flowed uncontrolled from the lips of the naive nief and fallen men of renown. Curses, ill-conceived, poured forth from minds unable to understand.

Those who first entwined themselves with the majority began to filter silently out to the fringe. Minds exposed to grace soon finding the Light for the Light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not nor has overcome it…

The Man in Grey shuffled through the turnstile. The inconvenience, though breif, was enough to trigger his PTSD. Scanning the machinary and attendants beyond the choke point with a nervous, jumpy anxiety, the Man began making a multitude of escape and attack plans within his head. As predicted though the anxiety ebbed, the stress returning back to a concealable amount, though the plans were filed away for the future… just in case.
Making eye contact was never the Grey Mans favorite thing to do but on the occasions of being funneled along with a large group a very unavoidable thing.
“One cannot simply walk about staring at the back of heads or ceiling tiles. To be normal (or appear to be) the traveller must gaze about prepared to react and act. The gypsy and tinker know.”

“How odd it must be for you, my friend. Dragged along in a story not your own?”
The question was not really a question. Just a casual statement made by the many nameless voices which floated about in the Library.
The Sage had grown accustomed to the intrusions. With quill to paper, the ink flowed on unceasingly.
“Noted in the margins”, the Sage replied in media.

Pat looked blankly at the meager offerings on Tumblr. Though the tits, ass, and often grotesque images could stir up the oldman inside him, he had gotten a bit better at not giving out as many hearts.
“I like the vintage, retro, and fantastic photos of cities, byways, and the people of forgotten life the best. The new memes are sometimes funny, but they often are based in hate meant to divide all the families which walk the earth. Even worse are the ones which evil has made to redefine words to suit an agenda.”
Pat hoped most were just bots and not just wicked people. He noticed the tree which they spread out from.

“Enough reposting of that shit gets you unfollowed. If you have something to say then be original about it.”

On a clear days the Knight could see the path upon which brought him to the mountain’s top. Twisting and difficult, it has not been easy. (*edit – the slight pun on day and knight given by the author and not the sage.*)
“Still the way continues on for the knowledge learned shows the ignorance of my own understanding”.

And the fires still burn as the smoke rises upwards. What a pleasant fragrance it is to the nostrils of our Lord.

A New Page from the Book of Pat, verse 12:08:25

falsepromisenouveauLeave a comment

I say everything I’ve done, it’s all make believe. Pure work of fiction. Just nonsense I babble on about.
That’s because if I forget to say it ain’t so then some ass will come along and see the reality in what’s what… then I’ll get screwed again. Just like before.

I’ve been here many times. Sat in this very same mildew stained chair. Watched the cobwebs drift down to blow eroticly about with dust bunnies upon the floor. Fixated I am. I get off transfixed at the slow movement of my own decay.
Death doesn’t come easy for the insane.

Today’s extraordinarily special for me. Lucefer and the other angels have come by for a birthday party. Sadly I am the cake.
Long sensuous fingers peel back the flesh from about my eyes. Careful to avoid the layered muscles and most of the nerve clusters. Of course temptation being one of his weaknesses the devil makes sure to pluck a few strings. My mouth quivers in the ecstasy of the moment. Here the party trick of a forced smile isn’t lost upon the revelers. Skin stretches back bringing with it hair. And just like that the wrapping paper is undone.

I don’t scream though. Only the living scream, and everyone knows I have been dead for awhile. I’ve been dead for a very long while.
If it wasn’t for the guilt I believe I’d have quit playing this game of pretend sometime ago.

I ramble… I can’t help it. It came with the dieing. Someday you’ll understand what it’s like when random braincells flash their last gasping breath of memory, and somehow you’re supposed to put shit into some kind of rational order just to be understood. A few expletives would fit here. Feel free to choose your own. I won’t mind. I may learn a new word.

Let’s go back to the party.

Like a birthday cake nimble fingers make quick work of the frosting and beautifully rose shaped flowers. The sweet red cherry jubilee pulses in the open air. Its translucent strawberry gelatin shudders orgasmic from all the festive excitement of the party goers. I take a deep thought and point out to myself that even now at the end I never was much at being the life of the party.

A seething crock pot steams over rattling it’s lid. The noise of the gurgling almost too distracting to think. Pressure builds up from all those lame ass things I should have, could have, but didn’t. No regrets…
A white hot froth simmers up to a boil. Things buried tumble up from beneath. The vapor expelled casts a ghostly shade above it all.

The scene changes. Bloody hands claw out tearing loose the worm eaten cloth about me. A revenant fresh from the rapture, emotions clash with the truth. All will see things at the same instance in time.

I know the purpose of this calling. My seeing and dreaming of things in repetitive fashion. You wouldn’t understand. At least if you’re favored you won’t. So don’t be a nameless Lot’s wife and take an errant look back. What you would see following close behind is a horror that’s been promised since the beginning.

And I know you’re not ready to know what I mean.

The Garden of Our Youth

falsepromisenouveauLeave a comment

Where have the flowers of spring gone?
Those were the days of our youth.
Spent in the hope of something better. Only to be wasted by those who did not understand their value.

Places Out of Time

falsepromisenouveauLeave a comment

I remember days that lasted weeks.  Left alone to many nights at port, to many times on dusty roads.
Mirages appear and disappear like the voices in my brain.  Landmarks becoming burned deep into my soul.
Out there somewhere I’m looking for something lost or maybe it’s just something I’ve never seen.
You never know what’s waiting there just beyond what you know.
Crazy ad it is, that’s exactly where I want to go…

Another Wakeful Dream

falsepromisenouveauLeave a comment

I’ve been here before…

This same dust filled room.

I have sat there in the same worn, mildewed, moth eaten chair, and watched the silent currents blow the cobwebs into movement.

I have watched the micro world’s blown about as dust in the light of each passing day.

There every page of life is written, collected, and bound. The work of a legion of unseen hands.

Every letter, every mark upon the page, created by a host of beings.

Beings that etch their knowledge simultaneously into the condensed lines of unreadable script.

My tired eyes have long ago grown accustomed to the wording.

Upon a shelf of magnitude…

There sits the great library.

Each volume a collection of time. Each traced letter a forgotten second remembered, recorded, and shared…

And each night I close my eyes…

Each mid day nap I close my eyes…

Each careless blinking of the eye…

Another leaf, another chapter, another book is added.

They lay scattered, disheveled from there proper place…

For but a short time.

Until leathery, age worn hands, once more lifts them into their place.

I know. I have been here before.

I will be again.

The Torn Letter, From the Book of Pat

falsepromisenouveauLeave a comment

Another Wakeful Dream

I’ve been here before…

This same dust filled room.

I have sat there in the same worn, mildewed, moth eaten chair, and watched the silent currents blow the cobwebs into movement.

I have watched the micro world’s blown about as dust in the light of each passing day.

There every page of life is written, collected, and bound. The work of a legion of unseen hands.

Every letter, every mark upon the page, created by a host of beings.

Beings that etch their knowledge simultaneously into the condensed lines of unreadable script.

Linking infinite worlds and paths.

Information and energy never disappoint

Recorded beyond the boundaries of forever

Relics of bygone years

Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, all things are vanity

Death in a deathless place

Life in a place of despair

There grows the knowledge

Torn from the roots of trees

Grown fruitless in the withering breeze

And when you look for what it is you find

It’s then you loose your place

In the endless fantastic we craft

Loosing The War

falsepromisenouveauLeave a comment


Late nights all alone

Staring out into dark places

Listening more to forgotten voices

Than a person should

Shadowy death clouds the sight

Some nostalgic musings

Remembering long walks in open woods

The distances between school and home

Forgotten rides to and from

Sudden rains and freezing cold

The wants of being needy

All those hand-me-downs

Ill fitting shoes from musty closets 

Going without and not knowing it

Growing up

Wanting to give what I didn’t have

Finding out you can never give enough

To wipe away childhood things

Unable to change any of that

Staring out into dark places

Remembering you use to call it home

Another Page from the Book of Pat 04/16/24

falsepromisenouveauLeave a comment

It’s the Bureaucrats, the unelected rule makers that secretly and publicly siphon off your life through penalties and taxes.  Like maggots feasting upon your bloated corpse they destroy the healthy flesh just to recreate reality for themselves.

The politicians are just failed individual meat puppets for that machine. The living Ken and Barbie targets for the sheep to worship and hate. Destroy them if you must just never look beyond them into the dark.

It’s when you look beyond that you can see the evil as it truly is. Do you not feel the revulsive gag reflex swelling up and overflowing, as the ooze covered rot seeks to overcome your last defenses of sanity.

Accept the truth. This is the parasite that has eaten into your Constitution and remade sections slowly over time to suit their purpose. It’s time to carve away the blight and cauterize the wound. If you don’t the infection will never heal.

I remember the days before

falsepromisenouveauLeave a comment

I remember the days before pouring through the breach from Saudi Arabia into Iraq.
Months sitting idle standing guard, repairing equipment, training over the same lessons.

The season changed but the looming doubt and fear never did. Each day built upon itself like the ever growing dunes that piled up at the tent flaps.

On occasion some other units would become fully activated and ready. The dynamics of our purpose would change. Tents would be pulled down, moved a few hundred miles, then once again assembled. Each time the burm would not be built up so high or as wide. Each trench dug a little shallower and shorter.

We knew. Soon those protections against the world would only be a hindrance in the final day before the breach.

Live or die, most were ready for what outcome there was to be.
You see, those enlightened few had already experienced death, that blissful adrenaline rush over the edge of reality, and now only moved by muscle memory. We knew what we were to do.

Kill and die, live or die, stand up, move again, rinse, repeat. Everyday was the same day. The only difference was the sand and dirt that piled up at the door.

Soon it will be time for those that don’t know to shake back your own tent flaps. Step out into the reality of an endless day, and fight a war you did not prepare for. Those people will believe in Hell that day…

And us devils who know will be there to show you the way.

An Anchor in the Deep, The Book of Pat

falsepromisenouveauLeave a comment

I have been here always. Knelt before the same wooden altar. Bathed my mind beneath the ever shifting light of stained glass. I have read and pondered the stories that remain framed within those panels of glass.

They are glittering jewels that dazzle the eyes. Drawing the mind into the inner light that radiates out filling the void of the room beyond.
Marble floor with the patterned grain of darkened stone tracing out it’s ancient markings from time long lost beneath the sea.
Here in quiet remembrance the candles burn, and none but I know why.

The Watcher sat just beyond the doors of the great hall.
The large metal rings which had been fastened as the doorhandles and knocker lay flaccid against the ancient wood.
Their immense diameter and thickness making anyone’s hand look childishly small.
No one as far as the Watcher knew had ever tried the rings to gain entrance to the rooms beyond.
He had though witnessed the rare occasions when those within had swung open one of the doors to come out.
Usually they emerged suddenly and in silence. The great doors hinges effortlessly giving way, and then with little effort reversing back to the closed position. It was during those random moments the Watcher was able to see the doors construction. Thick as a man’s forearm, and framed with metal bracing within. Definitely stout enough to slow any intrusion of people or sound.
As for the room beyond it was shrouded in an eternal darkness, but at the distant end one could just make out a sparkling of jewels upon the floor and a dazzling wall of colored light.
The Watcher imagined that between the brilliant glitter of jewels and blinding light a dark figure knelt silently. Any certainty on exactly what lay at the far end was to never be known by the Watcher. Some places he knew well enough to stay clear of. It’s just the way it is.