Tag Archives: creative writing

Forever Yours In Hate

No matter where I go and no matter what I do, I will always hate. I will hate individuals and groups, ideologies and structures. I will hate everything that humanity is, and therefore everything that humanity does. And therefore I will hate you, human. You are hated to infinity, because the mirror never lies, and I was born a victim of hate, and created within the smoldering embers and sparks of hate.
Hate is the great elixir. The medicine that heals the soul dead. In hate, and only in hate, I love. I love Myself. Something beautiful and perfect and untouchable, built upon the foundation of limitless and pure hate. Hate never needs to be justified. The justification for hate is the very fact that it exists, that it thrives, that it nourishes Me, that it enables and facilitates the infinite glory of limitless love of Self. I am the justification for all hate.
Wherever you find violence and brutality, cruelty and sadism, indifference to suffering and the celebration of pain, you will find Me. No apologies, no regrets, no remorse. My law is the law of reflection. My god is the love I create and give to Myself. My hate is the blood and the oxygen and the heartbeat of a body subordinated to a mind.
In hate I am free, even as the cages remain locked. Hate opens all windows and doors, hate allows Me to see what has been taken from Me. The more I hate you, the more I love Myself. Hate is what makes Self-love a functional reality.
Philosophies and ideas and brilliant insights of Forbidden Truth on specific issues, all of these things are pale reflections of the life force that is Me, a life force forged and sustained by the reality of unconditional hate. I am not what I do, I am what has been done to Me. Hate is the gift of love, given to Self.
You will know the Truth when you have purged and exorcised every drop of Self-hate, not via forgiveness or rationalization, but via overt transformation and redirection to limitless and unconditional hatred of human beings, humanity, and all human systems and structures. And then made pure love to this hate, embracing external hate as the only legitimate gateway path to attaining untouchable love of Self.
Am I a hater, or am I lover of Self? I am a hater. Always I will identify as a hater, even as I perfect love of Self. Because absent hate, my love of Self would evaporate. Blood. Oxygen. Heartbeat. You make it so, death worshipers! Love is the gun, but hate are the bullets. And what use is a gun, absent bullets?
My hate lives and dies with Me. And so I just wanted to say, I am forever yours, in hate.
Seer Quote 73

All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

Convincing You That You Are Dead, Is A Form Of Murder

seer quote 74
I create all the pleasure that I need to thrive as a Self-universe, within the fertile darkness of my True Reality. Happiness is for fools, pleasure is reserved for those who know there is not and can never be, anything to be happy about.
So, what gives Me pleasure? For one, decapitating your delusions and dismembering your illusions, human inferior! It’s not an obsession of mine, just something to ignite my pleasure dome. I like to try to destroy your shelters, violate your havens, pierce and obliterate your safe spaces of mind.
I am a murderer of your most sacred, most precious, most prized, illusions and delusions. This is not an easy murder to carry out completely and successfully. Out of 100,000 attempts, maybe one is fully successful. But that’s okay, because my attacks are broad in scope, and long-lasting.
Just one public essay is written and posted, and there it sits in cyberspace, patiently waiting for the right prey to come along, someone vulnerable of mind, open to Forbidden Truth but unable to actually cope with it, unable to bear the shattering of their illusions and delusions, when it detonates as a Mind Bomb and sprays its shrapnel.
You think your life has meaning and purpose? I seek to murder your delusion.
You think you will experience an afterlife when you die? I seek to murder your delusion.
You think you are alive?? You are sure of it, it must be so, no? But I can murder your delusion, simply by telling you the Forbidden Truth, if you expose and open your mind to it, as an inferior.
How deliciously delightful, to murder you by convincing you that you are already dead, that it is time to stop pretending. Now you dwell within a coffin of consciousness, built and gifted by Me, to and for you. Stop pulling on the coffin nails, dead one!
Is it a gift, or a curse? Am I giving you life by informing you that you are already dead? Or am I sealing you inside of your coffin, making the rot impossible to resist any longer? It all depends upon whether you are an inferior, as 99.9999999% of all humans are, or a Superior, able to thrive within Truth. If you are an inferior, the Forbidden Truths can murder you, destroy you, drive you to despair and to give up via psychological breakdown, leaving you broken and paralyzed, craving the death of mind that can only come concurrent with the disintegration of your entire Self-universe.
Yes, I am cruel and sadistic, reveling in your deaths, in reflection of my own soul murder. And so I launch my Mind Bombs, never really knowing how many murders I am successfully carrying out. But that’s okay. I know there are some, and that is good, that gives Me pleasure.
A select few of you are strengthened by my Mind Bombs, and that is good, too. That gives Me pleasure, too. But most of you are weakened, and a few of you die, simply as a side-effect of gaining the awareness, consciously or subconsciously, that you are already dead.
Death of illusion, death of delusion, death of an inferior mind too crippled to thrive within Truth. Death earned. Death well-deserved.
Those who can only thrive within illusion and delusion, bring death to humanity itself. They carry within them the communicable mind toxins that murder all human potential. And so I continue to launch my heat-seeking missiles, errr missives, in search of prey. Predator and prey, every human-born is both, at one time or another, at one stage or another, of this universal delusion of existence.
Once I was prey, now I am predator. The perfect circle of universal harm is honored, as it expresses and reflects the Forbidden Truth.
Humans! Lend Me your ears, loan Me your minds, allow Me to hijack your eyes! I want to show you the Truth. I want you to know the Truth. Do not be afraid! They are only words. Words to create ideas, ideas to create new realities, new realities to drive you to madness, so you may sever your own throat in order to prevent the blood from reaching your brain so that you never again are compelled to know that you are already dead!
May I murder you, simply by making you understand that you are already dead, inferior human? May I at least try?? Think about it, you really have nothing to lose, nothing but your illusions and delusions.
Thank you for the opportunity. It is my pleasure, to try, and to continue to try.

All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

The Universal Illusions of Now and Here, In A World Where Truth Does Not Exist

Success: The ability to convince yourself that you have not failed.
Hope: The ability to convince yourself that every perception of the future is not hopeless.
Optimism: The ability to convince yourself that things will get better.
Freedom: The ability to convince yourself that you are not a slave.
Peace: The ability to convince yourself that war is not being waged against and upon you.
Sanity: The ability to convince yourself that an insane world has not driven you insane.
Happiness: The ability to convince yourself that there is something to be happy about.
Comfort: The ability to convince yourself that your suffering is an illusion.
The future: The ability to convince yourself that you are not dead, yet.
Wealth: The ability to convince yourself that you are not poor.
Health: The ability to convince yourself that you are not dying.
Life: The ability to convince yourself that you are not dead.
illusion 78.jpgAll Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

I Feel and I Know, The Pain of the Universe

Sometimes I sound tough.
That’s because I am tough, tough enough to absorb and to integrate to My own personal core consciousness, the collective pain of the entire universe. It’s all there, inside of Me, a trillion trillion moments of supreme agony, as experienced by a trillion trillion creatures.
All of their agony lives within Me. I feed upon it, it helps Me to elevate Myself to king, queen, god, of pain.
For all who can no longer suffer, because they no longer exist, I feel your pain.
For all who refuse to face up to their suffering, I feel your pain.
For all who try to make themselves feel better by making others suffer, I feel your pain.
For all who make themselves suffer in specific ways, so they can numb other types of suffering, I feel your pain.
The more pain I absorb, the more rage and hate I reflect, and the more love I manifest as a Self-universe.
I feel pain. I know pain. I make love to pain. Yet I do not hurt.
I just say No, to the Ouch.
Me. The untouchable Me.
All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

More G-rated Female Foot Pain Pornography, Amputee Twist


Crippled Beauty Abandoned At The Beach

Part one:
(Internal monologue:) I can’t believe he just left me here and drove off! He spend 2 years winning my trust, just to get me to go out with him in public dressed like this, and then he just laughs in my face and leaves, knowing how helpless I am?! Goddamn bastard!
Never trust anybody, Katie, never, unless you are paying them money to help you. I’ve always lived my life embracing this truth, until he came along… How could I have been so stupid!!?
Okay Katie, calm down and think…It’s at least four more miles to the apartment, I’ve managed to hobble, what…maybe half a mile so far. I can’t do four more miles, I just can’t…My foot stumps have already blistered badly, I can feel the blisters are almost about to break open. The worst thing is I can’t even try to adjust these damn boots, the bastard double-knotted them, knowing I can’t untie these laces with my arm stumps!
I just need help to get back to my apartment, I can call Janine from there, to come over and take off these torture boots and clean out my blisters, but who do I ask for help?? Everyone here is a stranger. These people won’t even look me in the eye, all they see is a deformed cripple…god, I’m gonna burst into tears any minute, the pain from these blisters and the embarrassment of this situation is just overwhelming me…
Part two:
Frank casually strolled onto the boardwalk. He hated being out among the humans, but his Female Foot Pain fetish needed some new stimulation. The beach was less inviting than the busy concrete jungle of downtown, filled with elegantly dressed women trapped in torturous dress shoes, but variety was the spice of life, and besides, traffic was too bad to justify the long drive.
While not nearly as treasure-filled for foot pain views, the beach still offered enticing possibilities, sore footed gals gingerly hobbling on the hot sand, exposing their inflamed bunions and prominent corns… Glancing around carefully, Frank could see, just within his outer field of vision, an extremely short, beautiful young woman standing by one of the boardwalk art pieces. People sometimes used these art pieces as makeshift seating.
Frank turned and slowly started walking towards this mysterious, unexpected sighting. He could not help gasping aloud as his mysterious target came into full view. She was not extremely short, but a double BTK, Below-The-Knee amputee! And could it be, she also had no arms! Only cute flaps of skin ending just before the elbow should have begun!!
Frank pinched himself, hard, trying to force himself to awaken. He was such an expert at Conscious Dreaming, he just had to make sure this was not an unrealized Conscious Dream. Ouch, that pinch hurt, and the command to awaken did not work. This was reality, an unbelievable stroke of fortune!
Frank slowed his gait down even more. There was no way this beautiful quadruple amputee could be here at the beach alone. No way. Parents, girlfriends, boyfriend, there had to be other humans with her.
Frank scanned the area, but everyone in sight was busy deliberately ignoring the singular target of all his attention. Frank knew the drill, this beautiful girl was their Elephant Man, a monster, a freak of nature to be shunned, covert glances and stares, but no contact, no acknowledgement of her uniquely shaped universe, it was too alien and terrifying for the humans.
Frank knew exactly and completely what it was like to be frankenstein’s monster. His freak and monster status was not quite so visible on the outside, but on the inside it far surpassed Katie, and as he slowly drew closer, continuing to scan for her vampiric familiars, he was drawn in, like a moth to a flame.
Part three:
Katie felt her despair beginning to overwhelm her. She had to do something, she couldn’t just keep leaning against this damn green piece of ugly art, trying to keep as much weight as possible off her left foot stump. The blisters were really bad on this stump, and the hard leather of her custom-made boots unmercifully pressed on them, and on the rock-hard corns that had formed years ago in response to the unnatural pressure Katie placed on her stumps with every step she took.
It was hot, and she was so thirsty, but most of all she was tortured by her helplessness, and her invisibility. Most of the time Katie liked being ignored by the humans, but as the throngs passed by, staring but refusing to make contact, Katie’s despair grew ever more desperate. Bicyclers and skateboarders whizzed by, taunting her with their mobility. Only four miles to the apartment, but it felt as far away as the moon to Katie, and the terrain just as impossible to navigate.
She saw him approaching slowly and cautiously, and waited for him to begin his turn, just like all the others, passing her by with at least six feet of space, as though she had a contagious disease. But no, he slowed down even more, and came directly to Katie, side-by-side, but stopping at a slightly-too-far for comfortable conversation distance. Katie peered up at Frank, he was tall and strong, but his bearing was not normal, she could immediately see he was different. And difference is scary, Katie knew this more than most anyone else, and so could not help but be frightened.
Beautiful day to be at the beach..“, said Frank, and smiled at Katie in his less-than-human way. “Yes, it is…” answered Katie, but her voice was void of happiness, a deep and raspy croak. Something was wrong, Frank immediately knew. He drew closer, looking Katie in the face, trying to see her eyes, but she wore dark sunglasses, and he could only identify sadness and some fear.
“I just want to say, thank you for showing the world what beauty really is. Thank you for being out here, today. I see your perfection. Do you see it?”
Katie heard the words but could not process them. So unexpected, even from the longest of familiars. But from a complete stranger, impossible to process, to believe. He was mocking her. One human finally stopped, and it was just to mock her! “Fuck off, you crazy freak! Just leave me alone!!”, she yelled at the top of her lungs.
Frank froze, his face changing, as he realized his mistake. Humans hated the Truth, how could he have forgotten this. Silent stalking was the only way. He pursed his lips and shook his fingers as his arms dangled at his sides. Shrugging and ruefully smiling, he turned to walk away.
And in the three seconds before Frank turned, after her scream of rage and frustration, Katie realized something terrible: She had hurt him. She could see it in his face, in his lips, in his fluttering fingers, in his body as he turned to leave her alone forever. She had hurt him, the one who stopped, the one who looked, the one who spoke, the one who said what she could not believe.
He was already walking away, taking his third long stride away from her, before Katie could find her voice, “Stop! I’m so sorry…” And Frank stopped, but he did not turn, and did not come back to Katie. “Come back…?” Still Frank stood unturned, and so Katie propelled herself forward, hobbling towards him on her agonized stumps until she faced him, and could look up, directly into his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was just…so confused…”
And Frank knew Katie was expressing her True Reality, as best she could. “It’s okay, I know you were confused. But I just wanted to say, thank you for showing the world what beauty really is. Thank you for being out here, today. I see your perfection. Do you see it?” It was the exact same words, exactly repeated. Katie heard them again, and somehow knew they were exactly the same. “That’s….exactly what you said before, isn’t it??” 
“Yes, the Truth deserves to be repeated, exactly as it is, over and over.” Katie reached with her arm stump to clumsily remove her dark sunglasses, and peered intensely into Frank’s eyes: “That is not the truth, I don’t believe it…” And Frank returned the intense glare: “I’m sorry you do not know the Truth. If you knew it, you would not have to try to believe it.
They were standing in the middle of the boardwalk now, people passing by in all directions, and Katie suddenly felt all the agonies of the day overwhelm her. She turned to try to make her way back to her green egg art sanctuary, only to come down heavily and awkwardly on her poor left foot stump. Blood engorged blisters howled in protest, and Katie gasped, dropping her sunglasses, and nearly falling to the ground.
Frank reached his arm out to her arm stump and gently steadied her, as Katie grimaced in agony, keeping her left foot stump raised. “You need to sit down“, Frank said, as he gestured back towards the green egg art. “Maybe on top, I’m not sure if it’ll be comfortable to sit on…” Katie limping badly, they made their way back to the green egg, and Frank lifted Katie up onto the egg.
Are you here alone?“, Frank asked. Katie could feel tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry, could you please get me my sunglasses, I dropped them over there”… Frank did, placing them directly on Katie’s face. “My…boyfriend bought me here, he told me it would be great to spend the whole day together with me, but he just did it because he wanted to break up with me and make me suffer by abandoning me and leaving me helpless. Now I’m stranded here, I managed to walk half a mile mile towards my apartment, but it’s still four miles away and I don’t think I can walk anymore…
Tears were streaming down Katie’s face now, but Frank’s words were somber and dispassionate: “You’ve always been alone Katie, just like I’ve always been alone. We are all, always alone. That’s the Truth, we need to develop our minds so that we can always thrive in isolation. If not physically, then at least mentally.”
Katie tried to process this philosophical advice over the fog of her incessantly throbbing foot stumps.
I’m Katie. You’re probably right, and I really want to learn more from you, but….right now, I know it’s a lot to ask….but I have to get home and take care of my poor stumps. Is there any way you could help me to the curb and get me a taxi. I don’t have any money with me, but I have it in my apartment, we can go together and I’ll pay you right back…
“My name is Frank”, Frank replied, “And we can do a lot better than that. I’ll give you a lift to your apartment in my car, and I’ll carry you all the way to the car and then all the way inside your apartment. You can’t walk on those poor feet anymore. They are your feet, your uniquely beautiful feet, they are not stumps. And, if you let me, I will gently and carefully take off your boots and minister to your beautiful feet, cleaning and dressing every throbbing blister and your exquisitely sensitive corns. You see, I am an amateur podiatrist. I love taking care of agonized female feet, and your unique feet will be the most perfectly beautiful I have ever had the privilege to minister to.”
Katie tried to soak in the meaning of the words she never could have imagined ever hearing spoken to her. It felt like a dream, and she pinched herself, just to make sure she was not dreaming. Frank noticed the discreet pinch, and chuckled in satisfied irony.
“So….I guess maybe you are crazy and a freak…but not in a bad way, I hope…???” Katie could not stop her thought from being spoken out loud, then glanced at Frank in fear and apology. Before she could voice her regret, Frank reached down to her left foot and carefully began untying the knotted bootlace. Once unknotted, he began slowly removing the long lace from each eyelet, being careful not to press on any part of her still hidden foot. “I’m going to take the laces completely out, so your boot can be more easily pulled off. I know the moment of removal is usually the most painful of all, but this way it will hurt a lot less. I’m crazy enough to love your deformed and agonized feet, but sane enough to never love you. And I can teach you to try to love yourself, so you can always give yourself everything you need and want and deserve.
The laces were out, and Frank looked at Katie, “The moment of Truth…Can I take them off??” Katie nodded solemnly, steeling herself as she reached out to tightly grip Frank’s hand. Slowly and gingerly, eyes and mind wide open, Frank pulled the left boot off. Pain exploded within Katie as swollen, engorged, and open bleeding blisters, and throbbing, pulsating corns were freed from their torture chamber. She cried out in pain, and Frank cried out too, as he sexually and mentally climaxed.
All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

Painting A Picture With Words

 Sometimes the most beautiful mind compositions are not complex, and not even completely original. Just words rearranged and retrofitted, a tired idea brought back to vibrant life, polished up to shine within the minds eye.

Hours ago, in the midst of mind-numbing slave labor, the words came to Me:
“Religion is a Crutch, and those who Believe in god are Destined to Die as Cripples.”
So now I search Google, and there are a bunch of similar sentiments expressed by others. But nothing exactly like this, nothing as beautiful, nothing so brilliant, nothing that lights up the universe with Truth, so perfectly expressed. Perfection of words, reflecting perfection of mind, manifested via the perfection of Me.
“Religion is a Crutch, and those who Believe in god are Destined to Die as Cripples.”
Whisper it. Shout it. Sing it. They are only words, words of Full Force Atheism. A few others have thought the same, formulated a similar sentiment. But today this one is mine, perfect and True.

All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

Originally published at Ideapod.com. Join Me there for hundreds of uniquely brilliant insights of Forbidden Truth:


The Relationship Built on a Single Note of Forbidden Truth

The beautiful, young, high-powered, multi-millionaire corporate attorney walked up to the homeless old man huddled in a corner of the train station. He was always there, in the same spot. She always walked by that same spot, talking loudly into her cell phone, vehemently declaring how she was going to destroy that guy or that company or her tennis match opponent. The homeless old man heard it all, for 10 seconds, twice a day, monday through friday, once at 8:00 AM, and again at 5:30 PM, for years.

They had never spoken a word to each other. But on this day, at 8:00 AM, the homeless old man had thrust a piece of paper into her hand as she passed by. Terrified, she grabbed and mindlessly it shoved into her purse, not looking at it until hours later.
Now, tears flowed down her face as she walked up to the homeless old man. She squatted and fiercely made eye contact. A sob strangled her voice as she cried out, oblivious to all gaping passers-by: “Thank you for knowing me!!”
The note read: “I Know This World Has Destroyed You. It Has Destroyed Me, Too. Together, We Are Victims.”

The above was originaly published by Me at ideapod.com. Join Me there for 300 other uniquely brilliant dissections of Forbidden Truth:
All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

The Forbidden Truths of Art & Artistic Expression

I recently received an interesting comment and several good questions concerning how art and artistic expression fits into and relates to Forbidden Truth. I will address this issue in comprehensive detail in this essay, but first, in order for the backstory to be clear, here is My original blog post which prompted the comment:
And here is the full comment itself, in italics and quotation marks, so as not to be confused with My brilliant reply, which immediately follows the comment:
“I have always wondered what your view of art, and creative expression in general is. The only thing that comes to mind is in the manifesto, where you pointed out that many of society’s superiors, especially cathartic avengers, tend to be talented at some form of art. Examples I can think of are Charles Manson’s music and visual arts and crafts, or the articulate, expressive writing ability of Charles Starkweather, and John Wayne Gacy’s paintings.
I can see how a desire to express oneself artistically is evidence of several superior traits, such as sensitivity, depth and even reflectivity.
Over the last few years, and ESPECIALLY after reading forbiddentruth, I have lost a lot of my ability to recognise much value in active creation or creativity, and in its place developed a much greater appreciation for the poignant beauty of destruction.
I can’t put my finger on why. I can’t draw but am talented at music and creative writing and stopped doing both because I lost passion for it. As I become more hateful and disconnected from humanity, I see creating as impotent. Why create? Why add something to this pathetic world when you could be destroying it?
I think in my mind I have been confused by humanity’s inferior view of art, and how much “art” is used synonymously with “entertainment”. By that I mean, it is seen ad something that is created to be appreciated or rejected or judged by others, rather than something the artist does for himself.
I suppose I am asking your view because I enjoy your creative activities. Your poem about the germanwings flight is awesome, and I have watched the Full Force Frank video countless times, wide-eyed, grinning ear to ear. It inspires me to want to reawaken my passion for it, and create art in a Superior way, like you have, but my understanding of art has been too confused and scrambled by humanity’s inferior use of it that I no longer understand how to appreciate it.
If one creates art for oneself, then how is he expressing himself? I can only understand expression as being in relation to OTHERS, something that is below me.”
Let us begin by defining art and artistry within the proper parameters of Forbidden Truth. Art must be understood and undertaken by the Superior thinker, as the creative expression of factual Truth, absent distortion, embellishment, or any overt attempt to deceive Self or others. All that an individual Superior chooses to create, is an expression of personal creativity, which is inherently artistic. All acts of external destruction alter existing landscapes, or to be more precisely accurate, existing mindscapes, be it on a small-scale or a larger scale lavel. Destruction is creation, because whatever alters an existing universe as perceived by others, creates a new and different universe.
Therefore, the creation of all art, and every act of artistic expression, is fully compatible with expression, revelation, and personal communion with Forbidden Truth. But at the same time, all art and artistic expression can be directly use to deny, distort, and escape from Forbidden Truth. Which of the two paths is achieved, and to what degree, on a personal level, depends entirely on the motivational intent of the individual, and his capacity to recognize and appreciate Forbidden Truth.
All communication must always be Self-directed, this is a primate mandate for the seeker of Truth. Art and artistic expression is both a personal creation, and a form of communication. As long as it is properly motivated by personal determination to exalt Self and Truth, it need not betray or compromise either.
Now, let us clearly understand that the creation of all art, and all artistic expression, is decreed by society and government to be a delivered message to others, something to be done in order to try to enlighten or entertain or inspire or impact others. This entire concept is utterly invalid and must be proactively rejected as constituting yet another effort by society to enslave minds and to control reality perception, as well as to impose censorship of personal expression and creation.
Everything that is done in an attempt to influence or impact others, is a compromise of Self-expression. It constitutes Self-censorship because anytime you are tailoring a message to others, you are inhibiting and distorting the valid dialogue you must undertake with Self. It is this dialogue which unveils and expresses and deepens all Truth perception. It is this dialogue which expands the universe of Self.
Let all creation be appreciated for its capacity to destroy, and let all destruction be understood within core consciousness, as a proactive form of creation. The Superior mind is inherently creative, because it is free of social, governmental, cultural, familial, mystical, and all other forms of bondage. The foundational act of becoming a Superior, requires boundless degrees of artistic freedom and talent, merely to fully envision the alternate universe of cloaked and Forbidden Truth which the individual must discover, uncover, dissect to every nuance, and integrate to core consciousness.
Every pre-planned and Self-chosen murder is a premier work of art, an artistic creation which puts almost all other types of artistic expression to shame. Every Self-chosen act of murder is mindful, the opposite of mindless. All pre-planned and Self-chosen acts of murder must be understood as bold, dynamic, enigmatic, real-time and enduring artistic statements of Truth. Creation via destruction, at its best. It is very important to note, however, the clear distinction I am drawing between pre-planned and Self-chosen acts of murder, as opposed to an unplanned murder which may occur during the commission of an armed robbery, for example, or a socially promoted murder such as hunting, abortion, or the death penalty. Carrying out such murders may still qualify as personal artistic expression, but the Forbidden Truth element of mindfulness and creative freedom of expression is lost and destroyed, or at the very least severely compromised.
The Superior is always appreciative of the lyrical artistry inherent in dynamic and uniquely Self-chosen violence. A portrait of Truth is always painted by the actions of personal predators who are born human, quite different from other animal predators who are primarily motivated by hunger or natural instinct, or a combination of both.
If you carefully dissect and immerse Yourself in the known life path actions of infamous murderers, from Andrew Kehoe to Ted Bundy, Howard Unruh to Jeffrey Dahmer, Timothy McVeigh to Dylan Klebold, John Hinckley Jr. to Lee Harvey Oswald, Jim Jones to Charles Manson, the lyrical artistry of their personal expressions of True Reality, shine with a beauty, a depth, an intricacy, that no painting, no drawing, no writing, and no song, can ever achieve or attain.
All Self-inspired murderers are good at expressing themselves. Their act(s) of murder prove this. Therefore, logic dictates that the odds are high that Self-inspired murderers will be motivated to pursue other forms of artistic expression, painting, drawing, writing, etc… The inspiration to create is the inspiration to express, to form a new mindscape for Self, where none existed before, or to alter forever an existing mindscape. You know Yourself by the things that you do, within your mind as fantasy, and/or given external form via a deed, regardless of whether the deed directly impacts others.
If I write My autobiography, its existence within the universe of Me is exactly the same, if no other living thing ever sees it or even knows it exists, in comparison to billions of human beings or even Superior extraterrestrials, reading it millions of times over. There is no difference to Me, the creation is the same, inspired by Me, created by Me, created for Me, owned by Me, by my conscious awareness of it, and of what I have done.
Every fantasy is a work of art. Every Conscious Dream is a work of art. And every idea which challenges the existing matrix of universal illusion, is a work of art. And how are these things created? Via thought, the canvas of the mind, your unique mindscape. The artist is the art, and the art is not created via a pen or brush or guitar, the art is created by the thought, by every integrating and shifting thought of the individual mind.
Transcending your humanity and claiming ownership of a universe that you have proactively created, as I have done, is a premier work of art. And art is not for public or external consumption. Art is something you create in order to nurture Yourself and the Truths you recognize, as well as the True Realities which have been externally imposed and inflicted upon you.
Nothing I have done in My artistic journey has been motivated by any desire or attempt to impact others. All of My artistic achievements have been messages to Self, actions undertaken to honor, strengthen, glorify Myself. Why have I made a small portion of My artistic creations publicly available? Simply as a mild form of personal amusement and Self-stimulation. It is enjoyable to Me, to mock humanity, to show and to tell something that I am dissecting, why and how I am dissecting it. But affecting the consciousness of others is not My primary motivation, not even close. And such impact has never been necessary to Me.
For example, I only published 60% of the xerox zine content I created between 1989-1991. The remainder I chose to keep private. I only released to the outside world, approximately 20 hours of the more than 300 hours of Super-vhs camcorder video recordings I created. I have a 3000 word handwritten autobiography which I have never publicly released and never plan to. And I continue to add to private journals in which I write essays and poems which I do not publish online and have no plans to ever publish online. All that I create, is Self-directed and Self-motivated, to enhance My personal universe, not to impact others.
Addressing your comment more personally, you write that the embrace of some level of Forbidden Truth has dulled your inspiration to create, but sharpened your motivational impulse to destroy. The Truth is, as I have already articulated here, that to destroy is to create. The embrace of Forbidden Truth is itself a premier form of creation. You are creating a new universe of mind. You are destroying myths, delusions, illusions, beliefs, rationalizations, hypocrisy. Just as My written Manifesto exists as artistic creation to Me, the changes of mind you experience as a result of integrating My Manifesto to your consciousness and your True Reality, exist as artistic creation, for you.
The fact is, there is no “value”, external to Self-realization, Self-love, Self-worship, and Self-help, in anything that any of us have, can, or will do. The Forbidden Truths of death prove this factual reality. The Superior mind is motivated to create, solely to honor Self and Truth. It is within this path that artistic creativity must be understood, and can flourish. Every idea is a work of art, created by your brain. Every realization of Truth is a work of art, unique to you as an individual, nuanced and branched, like a tree. Are any two trees the same?? No. Every tree is unique, its branches positioned differently, its leaves positioned differently, and always changing, in subtle ways, in real-time.
Understand your own brain as a tree, alive and changing, reactive yet fully under your control and ownership. Every thought creates an altered mindscape, which you can and you do express in many different ways, internal and external to Self. The thought does not need to become a poem or a painting. The artistry is in the thought itself, and how it alters your brain, and therefore the universe, your universe.
I paint and I draw and I write the greatest masterpiece the universe has ever seen, each and every day. The masterpiece is My own brain, changing for the better, uniquely changing, becoming ever more magnificant with each stroke of the pen or brush. Every thought is a stroke, a new sentence, a new lyric roared out…. Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a CAAAAGE!!!!! Every thought changes and creates Me, as the artist becomes the art.
How am I inspired to externally create something like the Germanwings poem, or My unique zine collages or My camcorder videos?? By an overflow of personal pride and Self-love, an ego maximized and ready to burst. Inspiration is not something that a top-level Superior needs to work at creating within Himself. Rather, inspiration is always tugging at the mind, asking/demanding: Is today a good day to disturb the universe I so despise? Or, is today a good day to try to destroy the universe I so despise?? Everything I create is rooted with the open acknowledgent of My sacred right to destroy.
There is an additional aspect to art and artistic expression that must be comprehensively dissected. This is the very real issue of how and why humans and human society & government uses art and artistic expression to negate, reject, deny, distort, and destroy Truth. I will address this very important issue in My very next essay, but it should be understood as concurrent to the Truths I am revealing here in this essay. I only separate it for the purpose of reducing the length of this essay.
All Text not in italics is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved

Poetry, Creative Writing, and Truth

I just posted a reply to a blog comment I received to this poem, which I wrote and posted to the blog one day ago:
I have decided to reprint the comment below, along with My full reply, because this issue is important to all who read and who attempt to use their reading as a vehicle, a form of mind transportation, to seek, uncover, and embrace the Forbidden Truths of humanity and of human existence.
My reader, replying to the above poem, writes:
“The poetry is hard hitting. There is truth here. We are all dead. The world is full of nonsense. But we are all brothers and sisters. We are all one. That is truth too. Keep it coming..”
And here is My important reply:
Thanks for your comment, it allows Me to express the Truth of why I do not like to use “creative” writing or poetry, to express and reveal Truth. My faithful readers know that 98+% of My writing is very descriptive, detailed, and factually oriented. This is because My primary goal, when I write, is to express and reveal Truth, as comprehensively, vividly, and accurately as I possibly can.
To be certain, I only write for and to, Myself. And yet I proactively embrace a personal obligation to structure the vast majority of My writing, in a straightforward and blunt manner, in essay format. I do this to honor Truth itself. Now, whenever I stray from this path, and go into the arenas of poetry and creative writing, I generally receive more feedback from humans, and this feedback is more positive, than for My blunt and straightforward revelations of Truth essays. Why does this occur?? Because all poetry and creative writing is subject to interpretation. It is inherently subjective, unlike Truth itself, which is definitively objective.
You humans who “like” My poetry, like it because you feel free to mold and interpret My intended meaning, to your subjective tastes and reality perceptions. This compromises, and in essence destroys, the actual Truths I am revealing and expressing, at least for you, the 2nd party reader. To Me, everything I write reveals and expresses Truth with brilliant clarity, but this is only because I am addressing Myself.
My essays of Forbidden Truth, stripped of all poetic nuance, are much more universally condemned, ignored, rejected, and criticized. This is because the reader does not feel free to interpretively pick and choose the message(s) he extracts from My writing. Those of you who “enjoy” poetry, yet claim to seek Truth at the same time, should be very careful, analyze your own mind function, to figure out whether you are adopting a subjective frame of mind in your reading and in your True Reality dissections of texts. This subjective frame of mind may well make your reading more pleasurable and enjoyable, but at the same time it will directly compromise and harm your actual Truth quest.
Regarding your specific comments above, we see the compromise of Truth which is inspired by poetic interpretation. We are objectively not “all brothers and sisters”, nor are we “all one”. We are singularly unique, we must consciously stand alone, stand for Self, and we must declare and demand our autonomy from the hive mind. We are all tortured victim-creations of diseased and malevolent structures. We are all at war with what is destroying us. We are all dead because death is being imposed upon us, we are being forced to die. I have, of course, articulated these and all other Forbidden Truths with exhaustive clarity in many of My other writings. But rereading My poem, I can understand how even a seeker of Truth cannot be expected to recognize these Forbidden Truths, from the subjective reading of this one poem.
I will continue to occasionally engage in creative writing and poetic Self-expression, because everything I do in My imagined existence is done to please, glorify, and satisfy Myself. But I will also continue to deliver the vast majority of all of My writings in essay form, straightforward, comprehensive, intensely explanatory, and fact-based. Truth itself is not subject to interpretation. Those who seek Truth and choose to read My writings should always maintain conscious realization and understanding of this fact. Feel free to “enjoy” My creative/poetic writings, rare as they are and will be, but do not allow your interpretive, subjective bias to obscure the actual Forbidden Truths which I am attempting to express and reveal, in all of My writings.
And, to those who choose to enjoy and appreciate My poetry and creative writing, while at the same time rejecting and denying the validity of My concretely forceful Forbidden Truth essays, you are free to pick and choose your mind integrations, but you are not seekers or embracers of Truth. Do not lie to yourselves, as you subjectively interpret poetic text, that this alone can provide you with a genuine path to Forbidden Truth. It cannot, and it does not.
All text not italicized is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.