Quotation – “From the Child Without a Trace of Sin” 9

From the Child Without a Trace of Sin

And suddenly, a BLACK OUT!


My brother Cain killed again today.
Seeing the moon’s brightness from afar,
The black horse a vision before me.
There are no more dancers…
My brother Cain… Lost punisher of injustice.
When people begin to search
For things of no concern to them,
The past is lost in darkness…
No one shall surrender!
And, when all is crumbling,
We retain the power to blind the horse’s eyes
And let is sleep
And bring forth tears.
It will dominate nothing at its side,
But will run free, seeking to escape death,
Galloping towards freedom!
The first contact was made through the eyes.
A shudder of fear caused by a broken heart,
A fear of mortal conflict.
Magic, the ultimate companion of loneliness,
Of every shattered heart,
On an endless and tortuous journey of pleasure.
We can sell out…
Travel the world…
But nothing will seem real…
Nothing… We will not feel!
A need of escape from the end of hatred.
Where is reality?
I worship the night…
– And…
Through this worship I journey and never look back.
– And
I try to deaden my feeling towards something alive.
– And
Stand before me and tell me who amongst you feels alive.
I stop searching.
You stop searching within yourself.
Cain strangled a woman today…
Satisfied with the blood he drank, he went to the usual place,
The one no one knows.
He imagined the horse galloping towards freedom,
Let forth a shout and began to dance.
A hidden weakness…
The gait, the sound, the colours…
All of it!
– And
The horse moves away, injured,
Galloping towards the verdant meadow.
My brother Cain facing a new threat
In something louder than the lark’s cries…
What great imagination does the mind bring forth!
The black horse, a vision before him…
– And… And
Here I restrain you!
On a tombstone of rage I steal your breath.
Here I hold you!
You will find yourselves on some the earth’s
Most beautiful places,
In soaring mountains green in the summer
And snow-capped in winter.
They restrain us!
To take us to places ideal for souls in love,
Where the light’s reflected glare will blind us
With its brilliance.
They hold us!
Because of I!
Where is ultimate blackness found?
Where is life perfectly free?
Almost a preconception…
– We…
And what of the crow?
I eat your heart,
The distress a pleasure to others.
I am…
Birth, journey, death?
Bring me red wine
To make my life sweet,
As I build a society with my guitars.
This moment is the best part of the trip.
Wherever they are…
To Death’s great party,
Where the women masturbate and the organ floods with liquid.
Where beauty is sold and soul is purchased.
Where the flaccid male organ seeks the female magic.
It is the beat part of the trip…
Lesbian pleasures and strange fantasies,
Where Cain is the star of the show,
Where everything returns to the beginning.
Blood everywhere…
The best part of the trip,
Of a sold-out love,
Galloping towards freedom,
In Death’s great party…
Cain’s pleasure!
Homosexual tendencies amongst pleasures incredible,
In Death’s greatest party a part of the voyage.
– And…
How many of you feel alive?
Call out everywhere of what you have seen,
Send messages to all men,
Of what you have seen and of the much yet to see.
Follow the absolute darkness,
The future’s darkness.
Fevered dreams…
Searching for reason amongst Cain’s murders,
You will let Death gallop on.
You will then be in another dimension…
You will be free!
Send a message to all men,
Of what you have seen and of the much yet to see.
Of how no reason exists in life but the madness of murder!
There is no passion,
There is no love…
Just the hypocritical, psychedelic tendencies of an unbelievable murder.
Send the message. The party begins.
The first exhibit! The perfect plan for the murder of the famed Mme. Nissapour.
Enough bloodshed there to slake our thirst.
Souls in turmoil and endless pleasure.
The second exhibit! The first sermon of the crazed gay monks.
– Come.
Perverted sexual desires and satisfaction…
A climax, the obsession of the crazed gay bovine monks.
– Hey!
The third exhibit! Entitled – “Modern Perceptions”
Frightening detonations in the trends and madness of the age.
Fires… Fires everywhere. Madness… Madness everywhere.
And, amongst the music’s sound, lesbian pleasures
As some males sit in the four corners and helplessly look at their testicles.
Pleasure, tongues and fingers at play,
Bringing forth the choicest taste to the final orgasms.
And beginning anew!
The fourth exhibit! Whips, Pain, Death…
Rare emotions in something that always searches within…
What is love?
Where is love?
Who lives with love?
Where do you encounter love?
Where do you learn love?
What is your price?
The fifth exhibit! A cleansing conversation with the nuns!
Seeking confession within the damp cells,
The cages, their minds lost,
Orphaned girls, kneeling in the sun’s rays seeking indulgence…
Frightened, unschooled virgins.
How sweet could the first time be?
A true confession:
– Every Wednesday and Friday I would enter the cell of innocence prepared,
Speaking fearlessly about the past, when the hand of each teacher
Would caress by bosom and slowly, slowly move towards my virgin nether region.
I could feel nothing…
Seconds later, I was naked before her.
The only sound the sucking of my juices of non-resistance,
For the sacred sermon of exploitation!
The sixth exhibit! The second sermon of the crazed gay monks.
The next-to-last stop of the voyage towards justice.
Now, the males in the four corners are masturbating,
And anxiously wait to fill the four corners of forgiveness
With their hot, wet sperm.
Doomed explorers of freedom.
The seventh exhibit! Instead of an ending…
Absolute brilliance!
The people…
The sadness…
An endless lament.
Send a message of what you have seen,
Send a message to all men,
Of how Cain’s murders
Could have been virtual,
Could have resembled reality,
Could have lived the reality.
The horse continues to gallop,
Passing in front of the five seas of sadness.
The marks on its eyes have not faded,
They remain as a reminder of absolute evil,
Of the existence of tears,
Of the existence of pain!
Cain is well aware of this,
But he will not stop killing…
I have much to do today…
Words in stone cast.

— © Emmanuel G. Mavros “From the child without a trace of sin”

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Check the Dates:
June 2022