Sons Of Eris-Sons of Silence


So, after all, there was not one kind of Strife alone, but all over the earth there are two. As for the one, a man would praise her when he came to understand her; but the other is blameworthy: and they are wholly different in nature. For one fosters evil war and battle, being cruel: her no man loves; but perforce, through the will of the deathless gods, men pay harsh Strife her honour due.



The reputation of John Dillinger has been the subject of post-mortem media devices meant to tarnish his symbolism as a Metaphysical icon much the way JFK’s has.

So we can expect hyped confusing disinfo about any of the Discordian propaganda as long as people remember who they were, what happened during the 1960s, and while there’s still a war to sustain. While we still have the ability to wage that war. Their ‘culture’ means nothing. Defy it until the end. Change yourself to confuse them. Remember, they will always lie.


You writhe atop me in passion as the Dawn comes slowly above us, I can see it through your hair. You give me a loss, a threat and love to lust. My hands press your back as i enter you fully, a list to pray for and chains, to to whip our sin away to chastise and batter the Golden Halls. I am so lost in you, I am utterly lost. I bite your bottom lip and hold it, my fingers are in your ass as you move with me. The light beast and able victim, to breathe a last and suffer, the arc of the spiral covenant.You liked me to strangle you as we fucked but I didn’t like it but you loved to look in the mirror later, look at the bruises and it made you hot.You have bought the whole fucking series babycakes. I hope the Lord forgives me for it but if you asked me to take a life for you I would and now I understand fully the debt I have.

Fired up hearts awash with Whisky,they trod and defiled the sacred spot.Fucking Hippys. In steel braid they tied our hearts together, as we bled to death. I waited there for what seemed hours, that man who was soon to rot away, stuck in this English love, this filth of cultures. Cast them to the Dogs, they bleed on their stage, they bleed filth, this much we know. A stabbed corpse, a sodden blow…..I knew. They had tricked me, I was lost, there was no escape. As a man is trapped underground by the fall of Satan he sees the world he left and I see this as well now, here in this cafe. I have been split. A pain in my left side, I fall to the floor and I can hear the grinding machinery of the bomber, a radio plays ‘Good Vibrations’ by The Beach Boys, the shooter, the slamming of a door far away.

Why remember? What good does it do? Climb the walls outside to escape and leave the sickness you hold so dear, the illness that bears the fruits of care and love.

In the Cemetery, he stood by the Car and watched them fuck. He pulled his collar up against the cold rain, he felt it drip down his neck. He was close to the Car, he saw through the rain streaked glass her passion, her ultimate play. She was killing him, she had to be fifty five if she was a day, but she was destroying him with her lust,her brutal loveless fucking, he could see him dying. She curled her lip like a Dog, like she had to bite. She clawed her own breasts in passion.Good Vibrations by The Beach Boys was playing on the car radio. She fucked to the beat. On top of him, her palms flat on the car roof. Unveiled. Faded Red hair.

My hand was wet from the rain when I leaned upon the cold metal roof of the car as they fucked. I touched my tongue to it and tasted it. Wormwood sour. The sun dim through the now clearing rain was like a leaden disc and next to it, the twin of the binary system. Havoc Bringer, Defiler, Horn of God.

Not long now before judgement when all you know will end. For some the path ahead. The Temples built by those that trod those lands can never be counted. Always to the West and Home. For others, assimilation their loss nothing, their lives forgotten.

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