interrupted-transmission

The vultures watched the people. Surveillance technologies. The vultures were first seen perched on the gas holders.

Icebergs sailed into the ports like trading ships. The cold came as suddenly as a break in the cloud.
Dogs and carrion crows tried to reach the internal organs of bodies frozen solid. Beaks and jaws tore at flesh as hard and as smooth as bullet-proof glass.

Monuments to neglected gods spoke again, in commandments. Stones spoke. Statues spoke. We were assailed by voices, by contradictory commandments and threats. We ripped each other apart at the bidding of stones and statues which spoke in the voices of gods.

Voices from the soil and voices from the sky. Voices from the sea and voices in the wind. Lights in the sky and fissures in the earth.

Lands of black ice and silence. A cold only the dead should know. The cold of ghosts trapped between realms. Bodiless cold, an icy vacuum. Ghost ships caught in frozen seas.

What are the new taboos? What are the new tattoos? Scar tissue and 3rd degree burns.

Sad eidolon.

The temples have been rebuilt. The energies reactivated. Star satellites.

Cobalt skies. Fierce indoctrination.

Do you know what the leaders of the world have sold in exchange for their power?

Power does not come cheap. There is a body of secret wisdom, but those that teach it require total obedience.

You may meet the hierophant. You may be initiated. You may learn the hidden corpus of knowledge but you are not free to do with it what you will. You have become one of them. You have become one with them. What is power if it cannot be exercised for your own gain?

Music which stirs the heart to war. Play them the war music, for war is afoot. Play the music which will cause the blood to boil. Light the fires and have them dance. War is afoot and death is abroad. Have them dance.

Cantilever. Expose them to the indoctrination rays. Light the incense. Let the light filter through stained glass. Play the organs and have the choirboys sing. The church must go back to its roots as brainwash machine if it is to regain its corporeal power. We have lost far too much ground, but the war is not yet lost. Have the priests speak in incantatory tones. We have men of the utmost gravitas. Yes, gravitas is the priests most potent weapon. Let him move slowly, with grace and deliberation. Let his voice be deep and dark, rich and authoritative, let his cadences be like incantations. Let his commands bypass the conscious brain and lodge themselves like glass splinters in the unconscious. Let his commands become like the commands of the DNA, unfolding themselves at the pre-programmed time, like a boys voice breaks or a girls breasts start to bud.

Unctuous medicine!

The vultures became a common sight, perching on lampposts and traffic-lights. Waiting for an autumn of corpses.

Effervescent bruises. Lurid contusions. A body decorated with wounds. Scars like jewellery.

Swift intake of breath. Shock. Sweating and shaking. Electric haloes around the heads of world leaders. My halo is the proof of my probity. Follow me, for the halo is around my head and I carry the sign of your people.
Dust blows. Dust storms in cities turned to desert. Dust storms of bodies turned to dust. Deserts made of bodies turned to dust in an instant. Multitudes become deserts in a single atomic second. One blinding second and all is desert.

The desert lands and the ice lands and cold vacuum of space. Territories of the lost, the defeated and dammed.

The pleasure gardens, the vales of intoxication. And through these lands move the stealers of souls, the succubae and incubi, the young girls who turn to crones at the moment of orgasm. The beautiful young men who swallow your face. The bliss which proves a pretext for the removal of your soul.

The sirens who lure you onto the rocks with voices too beautiful to bear. Pleasure is the way to trap humans. Give them bliss. Give them the bliss of the succubus and they will enslave themselves without complaint. Be a slave to pleasure. We will suck penises to extract the soul from the japs eye.. This is our highest art.
There are many lands. The most dangerous are the most pleasurable. Bliss is the first sign of invasion. While you linger in rapture in the Valley of the Lotus we are bleeding you dry. We are the Kings of the Lotus and we will bleed you dry.