“Fire is the first and final mask of my God. We dance and weep between two enormous pyres.”
– Nikos Kazantzakis
Das Horn Helm Hammerhands soll erschallen in der Klamm.. ein allerletztes Mal.
Dies möge die Stunde sein, da wir gemeinsam Schwerter ziehen!
Grimmetaten erwachet. Auf zu Zorn, auf zu Verderben und blutig Morgen.
Heute in der Post.
Das alte und das neue Album von Wino und Conny Ochs.
Fantastisch – beide.
Tracks aus dem neuen Album:
“Anarchism stands for the liberation of the human mind from the dominion of religion and liberation of the human body from the coercion of property; liberation from the shackles and restraint of government. It stands for a social order based on the free grouping of individuals…”
“Love, the strongest and deepest element in all life, the harbinger of hope, of joy, of ecstasy; love, the defier of all laws, of all conventions; love, the freest, the most powerful moulder of human destiny; how can such an all-compelling force be synonymous with that poor little State and Church-begotten weed, marriage?
Free love? As if love is anything but free! Man has bought brains, but all the millions in the world have failed to buy love. Man has subdued bodies, but all the power on earth has been unable to subdue love. Man has conquered whole nations, but all his armies could not conquer love. Man has chained and fettered the spirit, but he has been utterly helpless before love. High on a throne, with all the splendor and pomp his gold can command, man is yet poor and desolate, if love passes him by. And if it stays, the poorest hovel is radiant with warmth, with life and color. Thus love has the magic power to make of a beggar a king. Yes, love is free; it can dwell in no other atmosphere.
― Emma Goldman, Anarchism and Other Essays
When the chill of earth black-breasted is uplifted at the
Of the red sun million-crested, and the forest blossoms
With the light that stirs and lustres of the dawn, and with
Of the wind’s cheek as it clusters from the hidden valley’s
Then I walk in woodland spaces, musing on the solemn
Of the immemorial places shut behind the starry rays
Of the East and all its splendour, of the West and all its peace;
And the stubborn lights grow tender, and the hard sounds
hush and cease.
In the wheel of heaven revolving, mysteries of death and
In the wonb of time dissolving, shape anew a heaven and
Ever changing, ever growing, ever dwindling, ever dear,
Ever worth the passion glowing to distil a doubtful tear.
These are with me, these are of me, these approve me,
Choose me, move me, fear me, love me, master of the
night and day.
These are real, these illusion : I am of them, false or frail,
True or lasting, all is fusion in the spirit’s shadow-veil,
As a spirit in a vision shows a countenance in fear,
Laughs the looker to derision, only comes to disappear,
Gods and mortals, mind and matter, in the glowing bud
Vein from vein they rend and shatter, and are nothingness
In the blessed, the enlightened, perfect eyes these visions
Pass and cease, poor shadows frightened,
leave no stain
upon the glass.
One last stroke, O heart- free master, one last certain
calm of will,
And the maker of Disaster shall be stricken and grow
Burn thou to the core of matter, to the spirit’s utmost
Consciousness and sense to shatter, ruin sight and form
Shatter, lake-reflected spectre; lake, rise up in mist to
Sun, dissolve in showers of nectar, and the Master’s
work is done.
Nectar perfume gently stealing, masterful and sweet and
Cleanse the world with light of healing in the ancient
House of Wrong !
Free a million mortals on the wheel og being
Open wide the mystic portals, and be altogether lost!
Arhan by Aleister Crowley