I ask of it nothing.
No Godly residency.
No fiery torments nor sensual pleasures.
No yearnings nor needs.
Only the peace of absolute nothingness.
How glorious then death to forsake the continuation, the damnation of want and suffering.
To feel nothing, to know nothing.
Having only eternal nonexistence, leaving to rot a waning memory in the wake of a floundered life.
Might you find Death’s welcome a twisted longing?
Still, It remains.
Perhaps in shadows unspoken, but foreboding.
Then to ease the menace, men fantasize some fantastic infinity that bears only a feeble assurance.
The insurance of those frightened by death.
And yet, Death is undaunted.
How can it be, that all our knowledge, all our love, our hate, all we’ve built, all we’ve destroyed, all vanished for eternity?
Once upon a time humanity shared their friendship with all earthlings. All beings lived in harmony. And humanity oversaw the welfare of all of the earth’s creatures, and this is how they came to be called humanity.
Then one day a man drank tainted water from a well no one was to drink from. So very thirsty was he, for the day was bright and so very hot, and he needed to slake his thirst, and he thought, just a sip won’t hurt. But an infliction stuck him. And a fever ran to his head and damaged his brain. Everyone thought that he might recover. But he did not. The sickness worsened and twisted his reasoning, and he became ravenous in his desires and began eating the creatures around him whenever hunger fell upon him.
Everyone thought him mad. No one was able to reason with him, though they tried. And being close to him, they contracted his disease. And they, in turn, spread the illness to others, and they to others until all their brains had become damaged and all were afflicted with the desire to eat their fellow earthlings. All but one, Salia, who had been away traveling the countryside and did not contract the plague.
Now when Salia came home, everyone welcomed her, for she was much admired and they had missed her. “A feast!” They shouted, to celebrate Salia’s return.
And the festivities began. There was music, and everyone danced and sang while the firepits by the river billowed thick smoke of roasted flesh. But Salia did not smell the vileness in the air for the wind blew from the west, away from the celebrations.
Then when it came time to sit down and feast, they sat Salia at the head of the table, to honor her return, for she was well liked among them.
They set the table with vegetables fresh from their gardens and juice from the fruit of their trees. And Salia grew hungry, and her stomach began to rumble for she had survived on roots and berries and wild plants for so long while she traveled the countryside, and missed the cookings of home.
Someone shouted, “A toast!” and they raised their glasses to Salia who was joyful to be home again with family and friends.
But then Salia noticed there were no feathered or furred friends among them, and so she asked, “Where are all our feathered and furred friends to join us in this feast?”
And someone said, “They are on their way from the river bank and will be here soon.” And so Salia waited anxiously for her feathered and furred friends to join the festivities.
Then up from the shores came many people carrying many platters of many smoldering carcasses. And they thought Salia should have the greatest one of all, for she was highly thought of.
And there they sat in front of Salia the charred corpse of her favorite lifelong friend, Hochester the Pig.
And Salia screamed. She stood up and cried, “Oh people! What have you done to my friend, Hochester the Pig?”
And they said, “He promises to be quite delicious, Salia, and you should do the honor to carving him while our mouths water with anticipation.”
“You are insane, all of you!” Roared Salia. “How can you have done this to our friends? They are not for eating!”
And everyone thought Salia mad.
~The Parable of Salia, from the Book of Peter the Vegan
One by one they came
Two by two they fled
Others lingered by
the floating River Nigh
Raising the sun to their glasses
While fat ones sat on their asses
waves of chariots rushed the shore
Sent by flaming clouds in the sky
They caught hummingbirds in nets
and feasted on their pets
while roasting marshmallows fired by jets
But it all came to a head
as each floundered from their bed
their blue blood bled red
–and they cried, ‘Nevermore.’
~A Child’s Poem, from The Annals of Defiance – Thirteen Plagues
In a comment to an article, someone wrote (the same trite nonsense people often say to animal activists) that we should do more for our species than we do for animals. Oh, they of little understanding, exasperating. My reply, “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not on your side.”
I am the opposition. The enemy, the adversary of humanity.
And do you know why? Well, I’ll tell you why.
People start wars. But that’s the least of it. The result of their moral turmoil.
People are liars, cheaters, thieves, and cutthroats.
People are rapists, thugs, murderers, pervs and child abusers.
People are opportunists of no ethical conscience.
People enslave and destroy one another, the animals, and the earth.
People pit earthling against earthling in life to death battles: cock fights, bull fights, dog fights, any fight or representation of war will do, it doesn’t matter.
People are deviously greedy, selfish, hateful, and gluttonous to an infinite degree.
And there you have it, my reasons for being, The Adversary.
But my list is by no means complete. The evil that humanity does and is willingly capable of would take the digital space the equivalent size of Jupiter to record. And then spill over into the endless abyss.
So, don’t ever, ever lecture me to do more for people than animals. And don’t ever mention the fleeting good humans are capable of. I’m sick of hearing it. It’s all mindlessly obligatory and self-ingratiating if it’s anything at all. And all so damnably overshadowed by the impenetrable darkness of their soul.
No, I’m not on your side, humanity.
You can’t possible get what you deserve. So, until you transmute — as few have done — into that lovingly caring heart-filled species you fancy yourselves to be, consider me your foe.
Because I am, you created me.
Now you must live with the wrath of my aim: To undermine your craft at every twist and turn, at every inkling of opportunity. This is war.
I’ve championed peace and struggled against undercurrents for far too long when all along war raced torrents through my veins.
Like screeching banshees clawing their way from Hade’s bowels, I cannot restrain my lust for war any longer.
War has proved the normality of our species and served many, many faithfully well; adding treasures to the coffers of serious self-concern.
To deny war is to deny my manhood as it is to deny our Creator Himself, the Miserable God, and His warring belligerents.
And I am but a lowly, ignorant form.
And so, I yield to the Lordly ways that our species has so aptly adorned.
War shall be my comrade, my pleasure. My desire.
Alas! The passive has withered and died and now from the ashes, I rise and cry: Warrior!
My face I paint.
I feel as though the pressing weight of Peaceful Hope has flown from my shoulders.
I can breathe, again.
I am a man, destined and fit to do battle!
And I challenge any who oppose me, fight. Fight as though all you cherish is at risk, as though your very livelihood depends on it. Because it does.
And I will be your formidable opponent, my word.
As our gracious Lords, have demonstrated time and again with their momentous and unmerciful wars of conquest, their farcical wars against drugs, their charade of wars against cancer, their pretense wars against obesity, their fictive wars against poverty, their collaborative wars against crime, their wars against every manner known to God or man, war is by their blessing example, honorable.
And I am an honorable man.
So, comes the time to declare my war, the war against the oppression of the most vulnerable and harmless among us, our fellow sentients. Those that you imagine feel no pain nor harbor desire for life. Those who you humiliate and call animals with contempt in your tone, those whose tortured remains you feast on with the least of concern; those who I’ve vowed their liberty to protect, I call friends. Them you kill or have killed in your name — and in the most horrific and shocking manner.
And for what do they suffer and die?
To feed the Spirit of War.
Innocent blood is on the hands of a rotten humanity wrought from the war slung venom that flows through painless hearts.
Make no mistake, this is a war. Where no bombs explode, no bullets fly no fires rage into the sky no sirens blare no medics care, and no war criminal is ever, ever held to account.
But it is a wickedly merciless endless war nonetheless that murders more earthlings than all other wars combined.
And for this, humanity holds itself blameless, for they are a shameless warring species.
This is war.
The battle of compassion versus cruelty, understanding versus indifference, right versus wrong.
And I am the warrior, wielding the Sword of Words, multi-edged, lightning-sharp, indisputable, and indestructible.
And I challenge you, the enemies of freedom, fight. Fight as though every lie you’ve faithfully accepted from the vomit of Authority depends on it. Because it does.
Of all things in the mighty universe,
the planets, moons, stars, and unfathomed space.
And so many life forms that came to be:
in the forest, hills, plains, mountains, and sea.
Of all inanimate objects there are,
why did I become this man that I am?
A curse, a blessing, my soul’s regressing.
Oh, why couldn’t I just never have been?
Never have end for never had begin!
There are no answers, and yet I drudge on,
knowing well the answer will never dawn.
We have no explanations, only dubious hypotheses to questions of our origin, our purpose if any. Only fools profess to know the unknowable. Myself, I can’t help but wonder, is it all an illusion, the fancy profusion of fake realities? A computer simulation, a binary stimulation? A contest, to see who wins and who loses. Who rises above the cruel and mundane? Then what is the prize awaiting the wise? And what of the fate of the losers?
All your life, you’ve been lied to, manipulated, influenced, persuaded, baited, and cajoled to do things you would never have done, to believe things you would never have considered had they left you to your will.
And the worst part, you never had a clue.
That’s how Authority’s mind controlling venoms work, keeping you unaware and assured that you’re free to decide and act on your own while managing your every thought.
The antidote to these governing toxins resides in your willingness to see the freedom entitled every Earthling. Liberty lay just beyond the Veil of Illusions.
Kenmore and Craftsman, pictured above, nicknamed Yoda and Buddy-L. rescued June 2016, by my son-in-law, Ricky Asmus, from a K-Mart dumpster. Innocent Earthlings discarded as trash by a dreg.
Their eyes closed and their umbilical cords dangled, newborns in a world short on compassion, yet miraculously finding a hero in the Seas of Cruelty.
They are now the equivalent of teenagers, a few months older than the picture; rambunctious, happy and healthy residing with us in our country home.
Do your eyes see what others have hidden?
Do your ears hear the pleas of muted cries?
Does your grief reflect what others reject?
Do you comprehend concepts they despise?
Enter you, The Sway of Enlightenment.
Where dregs lie within Tombs of Yesterday.
Where your eyes light by the Bright of Knowing.
Where your ears discern Tones of Awareness.
Where pleasures paid debt to final Sorrows.
There you’ll live in the Sway of Tomorrow,
Conscientious human beings should not limit their consciousness to matters of survival. This blog empowers those with conscience whilst enhancing the conscious. It is my mission to prove that my most bitter enemies are my friends. If I achieve that in life, I have been truly human.