ETT FASTSLAGET ÖDE

Uppreser ett minnesmärke

 

över ett undantag i övermått och långt däröver,

en vilken vägrat äga fel, men blev fråntagen långt mer

 

Nå, det står tydligt att Man hamnat här; dit världar ser

 

”Är efter ryktet en verksam annorstädes

och det är väl mer än en aning häromkring…

 

Mig tog åren för tidigt inifrån samtidens framtider

däri sannsynerna levde när nära var;

men aldrig riktigt levdes.”

 

Vi är överens om att äcklande delar i helheten vägra,

så dömt är oss det främmande: Alla de påtvingade vägarna.

 

UPPSPÅRA ATT NUMER TILLHÖR ÄVEN NATTSIDAN NÖDVÄRNET

OCH ÖPPNA ÖGON LÖNAS MED GODHET OCH SANNING. TA IN DET!

 

RÄTA VRIDNA TANKEGÅNGAR HOS SKYGGLAPPADE MED HATET!

 

STAMPA UT SISTA TILLITEN TILL SVIKARNA! FINN HÄR SVARET!

 

 

… I LJUSET. Återgäldar min död med fiendens död.

 

… I MÖRKRET. Blir en undvikande nattgångare.

 

… I LIVET. Är en segerdrucket nöjd.

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ETT FASTSLAGET ÖDE

 

SOLGRENAR

Hårt ristade i gömd vrå fram till Ragnarök

hämtas en till oälskbar sträcka att älska:

 

Grenarna väntade här, alltför blickstilla

innan, som rönt är; Vi kan sällas till mullen

likt kärleks döende äring: Infångade,

medan sjörök stiger inom björklövsregnen

 

 

Löv nere i slasket dämpar hårda stegen.

 

Saknaden; rot till krona, tär denna värld svårt.

 

Men, vissnad blom minns att den segrat mot mörkret!

 

 

VI ÄR HÄR! KAN EJ NOG ÄLSKA ELLER ÄLSKAS!

 

Välkomna, till vårt rikliga lägers enhet

där Solen skänker oss sin väna ödmjukhet

ur skogskyssta skyar fria från ovisshet

inne i dagbräckning och skymning, kära Ljus!

 

VÄRDEFULLT LIV FINNER DEN HÖGSTA FRAMTIDEN,

SÅ SKYNDA ― STÄRK NYA DAGARNA PÅ STIGEN!

 

RÄTTEN TILL KLARHET ÄR VÄRLDARNAS LÖSTA SVAR:

 

GUDARNA ÄR KVAR!

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TRU KNOW TIME

With crowding around the chopping-block Midgard is slaughtered.

 

The Folk are cut down, far deep in their blood filthied,

deprived of all of their Rights, Honour, Truth and Life.

 

Our foes’ ridiculous lies sit stuck in layers of filth

and wish to pretend that resistance is futile; sat in useless,

spreading dumbness about that countries worth are set in guilt

all while self-defense is hollowed-eyed heckled open and causeless

 

Never trust any opinions to be valid in the War of all Wars.

 

It is burning here everywhere,

time to close the larders

as now the hardest age

stand us already in the doorway

 

Will grows in the towns which here have understood Realities.

 

Aim now our foe towards the grave and write down boundary-lines.

 

TRU come with the uplifting strength and might

and lacks a counterpart ― Raising now the long awaited:

 

MIDGARD, FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS UNIMAGINABLE PARASITED AND USED

THROUGH OUR FOES FILTHY WORK WILL ARISE NOW! ―

TO BE US ALL FINALLY CLEANSED

 

UNITY.

 

TRU KNOW TIME.

 

ODIN OWNS US ALL.

 

ALL VALUE IS IN OUR LIVES.

 

VIET HAS THE RIGHTS FIRST AND FINAL.

 

THE PEOPLE OWN THEIR MIGHT IN THEIR COUNTRIES.

 

THE TRUTH IS UNDOUBTEDLY ALL FUTURE AND LAW.

OUTSIDE OF ASA-KNOWLEDGE

Our foes market their false words against our world;

shaping the weak and poor’s filth until their death.

 

Easily led hasten the scum towards impossible possibilities,

tied as unknowing down inside hidden provenances.

 

The silliest imaginable is made into normality to grab after

in your own limitless insufficiency that surely is very sufficient,

likely it is us given full meaningless to search there for more…

 

And the utmost weakest and poorest;

the already dead; outside Asa-knowledge,

paying here with highest imaginable price

inside their unpaid thralldom;

in the filthiest controlled suicide

into the most hopeless condition.

 

The foes blame what they dragged down to their equal, then the world itself,

and when lowest are here held highest it makes the fools into seemingly rich…

 

Throw me here your empty threats and objections until tiring,

but all your fears and your death are now not any real concern.

 

 

May it all be owned us mutually to be repulsed by our foes junk-culture.

 

May death cure what forgetting cannot solve.

 

May the remorse soon be gone.

OUTSIDE OF ASA-KNOWLEDGE

LIFEOWNED!

But you, come here and right me to gladly become your wrongs.

Taking swings with swords aimed at your neck.

Slaying now your words without hold.

 

But you, with your head off you will shut it by yourself later on?

 

Killing all the insane’s dreams.

 

Killing doesn’t trouble me mentionable,

worse would be if this wasn’t done, with One,

for in the unknowing nothing is learnt

except for a piece of meat that will die.

 

Fully fooled will get killed

with the aged and worn inscription:

 

KNOW WHAT YOU BELIEVE

 

But see! This went uncurtailed home to nil experience.

 

Content with digging up justice for the unjust bastards

and want a grudge in being worst animal for pity.

 

(In a contemporaneously; hear the stinking retards

scream lies about their own attraction and full dignity.)

 

Have here emptyhanded freed the cultivated,

have in haste dug up violated non-years as they sow:

 

BELIEVE WHAT YOU KNOW.

 

But, that which is unwanted drags down that which is wanted:

scum rave so usefully and pigheadedly,

letting vexed be and very quickly search for more.

Lying unconscious and conscious.

 

 

 

Striking at life with a weak: “Possibly”,

to always use as an approvable excuse to throw:

 

KNOW WHAT YOU KNOW.

 

 

You,

who tear up easier by your executioner’s songs

than your own imposed and legitimated sorrows, listen:

We,

we do know that our world is decayed and everywhere raped

with control: Shaping defect normality’s, guilt unpaid.

You, it was done all too easily, that now must be said…

 

Let me now with sympathy mention something Obvious:

Refuse waste solace on what is hopeless.

 

Initiate immediately to work for The Choice and now;

 

KNOW WHAT YOU ARE.

 

NEW TIME IS HERE.

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TO ADJACENT MEMORY

The most obvious for the wolf will stun the sheep.

 

Watching a killed winter sprout frozen in crap

thus recognizing the directly born down to be grave embraced

 

The poor young woods, now be they thick or thinly grown,

in a dingbat condition turning to their defiance

wherein withering itself takes all time; their crown…

 

Vulnerable,

so enigmatically agreeing with hardest experiences,

grown upon a boulder with the roots visible all around

of false conclusions; doubt, aversion, sorrow, weakness and miseries,

therein words mostly can offer up some old half measures for pity,

barely just enough to flatter with;

weak in Reality

 

These fully daydreamed danced on a night old ice ―

grossly favoured products so freed from virtue,

hold freedom in hope

for pitiful saving after evil deeds,

for youth’s dumbness wastes youths fire away

 

Real friends! Wounds come to be before suffering

and is rarely covered by the fact that done is done

where it is fought after to eat the thistles

and being most qualming thrall-food rolled in dirt;

there death will never come too soon

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