R.I.P. Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson

Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson

(27.II.'955 - 24.XI.'010)

It certainly wasn't "easy to be Sleazy". May he reach Kether and unite with his Holy Guardian Angel and find Jhonn as well in the limitless ocean of negative light. Words are superfluous, as is this post. But since we both worship(ed) the Glitch...

Anhedonian Covenant

There is a necessity for knowledge

Which plunges us deeper into the maze,

And thus we walk astray

Plagued by hunger and of thirst

With just our tears and sweat to silence them.

Our bread is made from bitter soil

And rays of sun like acid burns our flesh,

Like poisoned arrows pierce our souls,

But still we progress further into madness.

The baseness of our selves,

Divided into incongruous hypostasis

Serves but little to affirm the iniquity

To which we submit each step we take,

Each world we set in flames

And hide among its ashes.

Lo! I block the streams that you created

So I may create Tehôm out of your existence.

What you require of me is more than I can bare

And though you spread your legs

And grin like a frivolous whore

I'm overwhelmed by perdition's breath

That sweeps through me like a storm.

I am thus whole when I am empty,

Holy when I'm cursed,

Caught in a maelstrom of illusion

From which I struggle to be free.

O Rubor Sanguinis

Remove the veils you do not need
And cross the threshold
To the very edge
Of your humanity.
What once was yours
You must get rid of
Take the plunge and swim
Then rise above debris.

O ruby bloodwhich flowed from on highwhere divinity touched.

Embrace the sentiments
You thought made you weak
And build a grand cathedral
From your tears.
You are the secret gardner
In a place nearby,
A place sometimes called Eden
Sometimes sweet, sometimes vile.

You are a flowerthat the winterof the serpent's breathcan never injure.

Turn your wind whipped face

Towards the eclipsed sun
A voice behind you whispers:
"Your time has come."

Words in italics by Hildegard von Bingen.

Joie de vivre

Möt mig i Haiti, älskling

Där jag har ett litet tempel

Bakom en bar i Saint-Marc

Fylld med rökelse och skallben.

Baron Samedi är pastor

Han ler stort och röker cigg,

Mellan shots av Southern Comfort

Förenar själen vår med sin.

Jag finns även i Shambala

Om du tror dig hitta dit,

Möjligtvist är du min Kalki

Ridande naken och fri.

Vi dricker soma tillsammans,

Skådar vår apokalyps

Och när allt på jorden tystnat

Kanske får vi sinnesfrid.

Vi kan även ses vid Somme

Krypandes i skyttegravar,

Månaderna går så långsamt

Vi är utsvultna och svaga.

Du är mitt stålbad, min kära

Skarp som preussisk bajonett

För mig finns det ingen fara

När du träder in i mig.

För Oberammergau, 2o1o

Bury Me Deep

Bury me besides James Joyce

In a hollowed common grave.

I have seen the world pass by,

I have seen it fade away.

And whenever things go blind

There's a flicker at the end;

But it's not the other side,

Just a locomotive's head.

Bury me with Dylan Thomas,

I don't care the way I go.

Gently, violently, apathetic,

These are but metaphors of

Senses that can't be described

Senses that cannot be shared.

There is just one common feeling,

Angst of being in this world,

Where we have no common purpose

To surrender or prevail.

To the bootlegers who outsmarted Prohibition agents on this day 1928.

The divine is in thy self

Dr. Timothy Leary has been a part of pop culture since the 60s. From being mentioned in the widely acclaimed musical "Hair" to influencing artists such as John Lennon, Devo and Ash Ra Tempel, dr. Timothy Leary is more than meets the eye. To some he is a guru of post-modern enlightenment, while to others he is the Antichrist corrupting youths everywhere with his devious theories on LSD. The man and myth are always two separate things, but what I would like to emphasize is dr. Leary's neurological studies and metaprogramming of the mind.

Hear him speak in the audio reception linked to below of how one can operate the brain in order to free oneself from socio-moral chains and implemented patterns one has grown up with. Robert Anton Wilson has developed further on his circuit theory and I highly recommend his "Prometheus Rising" book. However at the same time we must not forget the pioneers of free thinking that have promulgated similar ideas throughout history. Is dr. Leary a pioneer? Not in the traditional sense and besides the question is irrelevant. Other magicians, shamans, philosophers and physicians before him have spoken of the same things he has, but he took these ideas out of the world of academia and religion and gave them to the people; from occultism to pop culture. This is much in the same fashion Aleister Crowley made magick available to a wider audience and disregarded the idea of elitism. That is because "every man and woman is a star" and within everyone lies great potential. Enjoy the audio file and for further studies check up introductory books to neuropsychology/neurology.

Download Timothy Leary's How To Operate Your Brain

Apotheosis of The Heart

My beloved, as you have obeyed and served in my presence but so much more in my absence, find your way out of the pit alone and reach towards salvation on your own. I love you but I feel that I can hate you even more and though these polarities are but the same and draw themselves to one another, I cannot look upon your countenance without a sense of doubt. I'm your sheath as you're my knife, I hold your matter and control your force with a carefully designed whiphand, crushing down like Autumn rain on withered petals.

There is a place which no one knows, a certain place where no one goes where you are alone into the great Unknown. You swim through endless seas of negative light, wade through troubled waters just to reach the sight of something with a purpose, something with a better view, where there is no iniquity, where everything is new. I am the engineer of your soul, the mastermind with blueprints dressed in codes, signs and fashion catalogs. I pour myself from right to left, downwards to the very edge of quantic disproportions and hallucinogenic lies.

I am not the averse state of bliss you try to make me be, nor am I shelled beyond and trapped like you by trans-organic entities. My light is full and in extension, it encompasses both all and nothing. I am both positive and negative tetralemma and my very essence defies all laws of logic and of reason. I am both murderer and victim, divine lamb and infernal butcher. I am not your crutch or other kind of traveling commodity. I am not only the parts which you choose to see. I am both static and dynamic; I am free. Yes I love you boundlessly, but also hate you enormously and I cannot stay much longer just to see you get more closed, losing your form and giving into the transparency of self-deceit. Á dieu!


To Augustine of Hippo, the latent theosexual saint.

Are You Free?

Subatomic energy as avalanche to eyesight
Forms white waves on celluloid
And peels the crust off your heart.
You speak of synchronicities,
Vague post-coitus interpretations
Where there are no coincidences.
You zoomorph each time I touch you
And generate a certain glow
Of bestial-angelic cyclic madness.

Do you know where you are?
Do you know why you are where you are?
Does the back of the medal give you a rash?
Does it hurt that you can't see it neither?
The other side of the moon;
Do you shiver?
Speak in tongues so I can understand
Where's the order
In the chaos of your mind?
Doesn't it scare you to see
Strange glyphs and letters
Forming when you breathe?

You believe you can break and dissolve
The third law of motion
And demolish cornerstones.
You address all your thoughts
To the spheres above
And the neurons below.
But do you believe you can be
More than a particle

Waiting to break free?

Ontologisk utopi

En astral vision
Vid fötterna av berg Zion
Och jag mår elva gånger värre
Av nervcellernas brist på värme.
Under en sjukhusbrits
Hörs skalens skrik
Och jag försöker komma åt
Ett stege att kliva upp på.

En astral projektion
Där kvantfysiken äger rum,
Och jag är bakom dimridån
Och speglar min själ inifrån.
Ibland delar jag mig i två
Men oftast aldrig mer än så
Och alltid återvänder
Till riddarn Newtons regler.

En astral injektion
Och jag är pånyttfödd
Jag drunknar i negativt ljus
Medan mitt hjärta pumpar blod.
Jag skiftar tunnlar snabbt
Det finns varken rum och fart
Och tiden den står still
För jag är alpha, jag är nihil.