Wednesday, November 11, 2015


World you have had your evil way and your evil destructive power over this poor shell of a broken man for far too long you have had it since I was an infant BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD WILL BE SPILLED IN WORDS OF MALICE THAT CUT DEEPER THAN A BLADE!
God you are a liar and a fabrication who sent your so-called son to die a horrible death on Calvary and you led Jesus astray and led him to try to bring peace and solace to a sick and violent planet. YOU ARE THE ONE WHO WILL BE DAMNED IN FLAMES FOREVER!!!!!!!!
Mother and father your lying and cheating and degrading and backstabbing will one day lead to an ETERNITY ROTTING AWAY IN HELL!
I have had enough of being nice and if there is no civility from you then I will never speak to you again.
      BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!! 666 IS MY NAME! What leads to this condition? What leads to this state? What is thy name thou who mocketh me in my darkness and shadowy black oily pit of shame with mine legs torn off my body and mine eyes full of tears and thy voice holy brother deserting me?
Shakespeare you may ask after the last part? Heavy metal? Being led off the narrow path?
       I am losing my best friend to cancer. I am having to come to grips and to terms with not just the fact that he will no longer be there to advise and help me through hard bitter periods like he was able to do before he was sick, but that the world will the day he passes away will lose a unique special individual and I DEDICATE EVERY BLOG FROM THIS AND ONWARDS TO HIS MEMORY.
   Bill "Pennies" Pacquin is his name and I have known his entity and person since I were a mere bonny young lad of 14 or 15 years old.  He was my first teacher of the world of obscure and rare music and I was his faithful and loving student. He began as the man who enlightened and inspired me and it wasn't long before we became best friends. Bill is more than just an eccentric and a unique man. He is a gentleman too. I can say that starting in 1992 when I was ready to be his disciple I learned all about him and he showed me so many wondrous bands and artistes and albums like Kak albums like Gandalf albums like July and The Koobas and Stray's early works. These precious memories of him and his turning me onto Kak, turning me on to The Parlour Band, Writing On The Wall will be with me for the rest of my life and my entire time in the afterlife and next world.
  Remembering all the good joyous conversations we had only makes it more painful to be losing him, but makes me feel blessed to have known him. He and I shared and will always share a lot in common, but I can't bear that some day in the near future he will be in the spirit world and I will no longer be able to talk to him and have him to comfort me when times are bad. He always had solutions to problems. A lot better than fake recent friends who tell me to kill my own mother and father when they won't let me buy huge suicide deals worth of usually overrated albums! ZWOUNDS THEY BE THE LEPROUS TONGUES OF DECEIT THAT HAVE ALWAYS WAITED WITH KNIFE IN HAND FOR WHEN MY BACK WAS TURNED!
     I have, although I love my mother and father, come to learn they are selfish and destructive very misguided and materialistic people who lie as much as any of the other shitty enema tubes of fake friends who pretend to be artsy, hip, and classy well bred high educated cultured folk borne of the cradle of intellect and literary fortunes mistakenly lost in the rhymes of music upon the breeze that carries the same song as that of the cooing sweetly intoning morning bird that pretends to be the eagle and the dove when they are but only an old ragged vulture crippling the young and destroying the dreams that spur my soul. I know that both of those forked tongued high society of the literati wannabes will be reading this piece of crafted truth and I know that they may be hurt by mine sharp cutting words and may be bloodied as much as if by sword when I curse them out of my kingdom, but it doesn't change me cursing them out of my kingdom which is an intelligent way of saying get the fuck away from me now I need myself and myself alone without your bullshit! They lie down with swines and fornicate hogs. Until they die my soul will never be free from torment and grief.        
    They bring me much pleasure, but wound my deepest heart with pain and lies. Lies lies and more lies. Never listening to a word I speak. FUCKING SELFISH! 'SBLOOOOOOD! I HATE THEE! GET THEE GONE BACK TO THE REMEDIAL WORLD OF YOUR LOPSIDED UPBRINGING!
        I hate most people. Were I the Lord Of Nature and the Maker Of Man I'd cast thee out of thine loftiness and into a barrel of oil and deep gashes to fill in the candles in thine bodies to light and blow all of thee into molten ashes scattered like seeds of evil doings and wicked horror on the floor of the barn where thee lie with the meager crinkled jellied brains of thine heads and in the bed of conspiracy that thou hast made into the crib that born me into the disgusting place known as Earth. I will rape thee one day by turning mine cheeks and shutting mine heart, eyes, mind, body, soul, and door for you never once more to feast upon my flesh for your supper of blood, gouged out emotions, and fried scrambled attempts of my misguided compassion and love. I banish thee into the ground and cut your tiny minds out of your heads and stuff them down your throats!
    I don't hate all people. Shakespeare was a person. Bruce Dickinson is a person. Children are people. Musicians, poets, and voices of human larks and Nightingales are people. However, know thyself for thou wilst never know the black two sided twin minded face of humankind. People are gathering all over the world in bombed out ditches. They are shivering with fear and being whipped and tortured in prisons all over this shitty nation as convicted felons for the simple fact they are poor and have fallen into the netherworld of gangs, drugs, booze, machismo sculpted to hide the damaged and destroyed hearts of poor children neglected and shunned away from their own mothers and never shown the light of love! I have been in disgusting vile sickening psych wards of foul treachery where murder knows no end and savagery hath no bounds with these kids who are in street gangs and who use drugs and who are destroyed by their parents and kinfolk and tis so sad that it makes mine heart sore with sympathy and longing to help people who put up a wall around them and hardly let anyone see who they truly are. Wounded warriors let me take you from the battle to mine chambers and love thee like the eagle loves the sky. Yes, soldiers fall into that category of destroyed and desecrated. I guess that the good boys are disguised as the bad ones and the bad ones are the ones who are not boys, but fierce minded corrupted men with rotten pigs innards for brains who sit together at tables of treachery sticking their bare and filthy arse into the faces of the innocent and then covering them with their monetary corporate defecation. 'SBLOOOOOOOOOD! SICK! SICK AND EVIL AND DISGUSTING!
       Music be the food of love and life and dreams and hopes and music is the true savior. No religious taunting is food tis more like an ocean of slime that turns fouler the more it strangles and cuts off the air from the skies from the bottom and pits of the earth. I am making a vow and keeping that vow. NO ONE EVER GETS ANYTHING FROM ME AGAIN! No one shall receive a present nor even a mere card for Christmas this year. Christmas? CHRIST MESS! I'm damning the day to a vulgar fate and blackening it with Hell Fire! More aptly I'm somehow celebrating the fact that I've made it through the worst year of my existence. This is the only year in which I have succumbed in blindness to numerous half baked attempts to take my own life. I know I'm smart, but I also know I've failed my entire life. By giving too much thought to other people I've failed myself. From now forward other people will be cast out of my world and back into their fake world of materialism, violence, and treachery. If I could get away with what no one can ever get away with I'd do it. There are other ways of turning on. Put a Coven or Black Widow record on. Do something that makes you feel like you are worthy instead of bringing more demolition to the banquet. I love how Sting is able to create dark and sinuous melodies and soar above them with his haunting voice. I love how TNT at one point were able to create beautiful songs of love, redemption, and hope. Keep that word "Hope" in mind, but don't use it when there is none like how there is none for my best friend.
      I dedicate this epiphany to geniuses Bruce Dickinson, John Keats, William Blake, Lord Byron, and Shakespeare. Jesus Blesses you from the land of animals and peace for there is no God and Christ Mess is a mind made illusion. I will speak to thee anon.
Lord Benjamin.

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