Religion, in all its forms is based on one thing; control. It is a set of beliefs which is created to indoctrinate, suppress and strangle the thoughts of those who choose to embrace it. It holds nothing more substantial than the rambling thoughts of groups of humans who wished to use it for one purpose or another. Stories and fables stolen from older stories and fables, passed on, edited, copied hundreds of times to suit whoever needed it as a vehicle for their own gain. The Christ figure we know was stolen from the stories of Adonys, Osiris, Hercules, Perseus, Mithra and many more. Religion only works by relying on the past for blurred inaccuracies to become truths. Christ never existed. God never existed. We are a subspecies of ape, nothing more.
- Fall Of Efrafa
Und ihr glaubt noch immer, auch wenn Tebartz-van Elst das Geld verprasst und der ach so heilige Papst das auch noch absegnet.
These throws of rapture, kindly hands caress broken bones, hands that cut through parched soul like a sharpened stone. What is it that we leave in these fitting moments? Sentiment? These curtains fall and wrap us up in our rigor mortis, the nimble fingers of the black one, his majesty of cold, courting me into sweet abeyance. The malign steely touch of needle thorns massing and directing their gaze on my misfiring neurons. The vestiges of my sickening life, of my loves, my crowning glories, the pain and poetry of a spent existence. He coils up inside me now, kissing me and whispering sweet nothings. The words of release, the words I crave as I lose all, as the clotted mass of cumuli nimbus bows his head in salute. As i claw upwards, as i fall back into oblivion and his words speak out amongst the frightening turbulence, those final fleeting words i coax from his abhorrent throat. “Will you join my owsla?”