INRITUM SCROLLS
2025
Nasheed
The knife will be your best friend.
When the fire's light is fainting,
the war drums will cease.
Only the glorious death will save you.
Let them come - set them a trap.
Wish for the worst and most invincible enemy to come.
Die smiling defending your soul, once nothing else is left.
And God will never abandon you.
Aftermath of a Bad Dream
Her and I in another morning
with our finest clothes
in our home library
having coffee and tea
discussing, arguing and agreeing
on metaphysics, atavism, anthropology
breeding, philosophy, occultism, patronizing
violence, power, psychology, extinction.
Uncensored, pure and raw
enjoying our epiphanies.
Untitled
Knowledge that tell,
What it is meant to be.
Titan, Man or Chimera.
What reveals the Rubedo.
Al-Rahman
The waves carried my blasphemies away.
And brought blessings to the shore.
Untitled
From where all laws derived from,
This is our argument.
Tricking the trickster.
Misty Leuthen!
Who are those who march ahead of the drums?
The Traveling Scholar
The traveler rode along the stony mountain path of Persia, the air cool but not cold. His clothes were finely made, his posture relaxed. A man of clear wealth, unhurried in his journey. Yet he held the leather bag at his side with deliberate care, as if it were far more valuable than anything else he carried.
The traveler heard hoofbeats from all sides.
Five men on horses surrounded him, their faces covered by scarves, their eyes filled with greed. The leader grinned, showing a yellow smile. "Give us everything."
The traveler didn't fight. He dropped his money, his knife, even his last piece of bread. But when one of the thieves grabbed his leather bag, the traveler's hands shook. "No, not that! Take anything else, but please, spare my scrolls!"
The bandits unrolled the old papers, squinting at the writing. "What's so special about these? Prayers? Spells?"
"They're my life's work," the traveler said, his voice raw. "Years of study, all my notes, everything I've learned."
The thieves burst out laughing. "So what?" the leader mocked. "If all your wisdom is just ink on paper, then you're no wiser than us!"
With that, they threw the scrolls into the dirt and rode away, still laughing. They left the traveler stripped from his valuable belongings but allowed him to keep the scrolls.
The traveler fell to his knees, gathering the scattered pages. His heart pounded—not just from fear, but from a strange new understanding.
Untitled
Fleeting beings…
Bonded by Esoteric Love, Celestial Sex and Cosmic Union.
Who would complain?
Rubedo
Every breeze is sweet, the sun brings the finest thoughts and the fog hugs me tenderly. I merge with the darkest night. I am the mighty fish in the chase, the watchful hawk on the cliff, the resting frog in the tree, the restless rat in the warm sewerway, the forgotten rocks beneath the mountains. I am the billions of eyes that stare at me as I walk. I dissect the wicked and the naive alike—same organs, same souls.
Back to the folk songs, sweet ballads. Back to where it started—finest arts and manifestations. Contemplating. Nothing to seek. A deadly, sharpened innocence clears the way.
Youth is being served and magic unfolds.
Untitled
Come si può capire l'alchimia senza sperimentare o fare esperienza?
Allo stesso modo in cui non si può imparare a nuotare leggendo istruzioni di nuoto, sono coloro che sono curiosi e si immergono nell'oceano salato, non quelli che memorizzano le parole di chi nuota, ad essere gli alchimisti.
Il piacere di leggere ciò che ti fa già senso non è per imparare qualcosa di nuovo, ma per sapere che non sei stato l'unico.
Imparare la vita per evitare la vita, suona ridicolo quanto può esserlo.
2024
Untitled
People are incredibly funny. They read hundreds of books, become amazed by what they read and worship authors. However, they have no clue about what all they've read.
Final-tunning
[A drop of love in an ocean of hate]
The divine, pride and beauty. Honour. Untoucheable heaven. The last sight of hope gone then...
Uncontrollable stuttering. Involuntary spasms. Chronic Insomnia. Ubiquitous terror. Permanent mental damage. Irreversible actions. Freezing in absolute fear. Death drive. Delusional reality. Vultures. Taste of death on the tongue. Senseless. Karmic maggots feast.
His mortal last wish? To spend those precious and very last pieces of coins he had with a refreshing natural coconut water.
"Holy Ghost! What a taste (and those mutherfuckers drinking beer?), anyaways, the sun still there. There is no crime in hell."
[A drop of hate in an ocean of love]
There is no crime in Hell.
- Anecdote from Nigredus Solstitium.
Untitled
Underestimation is the best ally of self-concealment. It shrouds the real self through third-party involuntary cooperation.
Pairing its own intelligence to theirs, or at least, to what they have within their understanding.
Their secrets flow, naked. Stupid and abominable race. On their practices, ruled by ghosts, happy servants of no one. Every word, every silence, each hesitation declares what they do. Blind of their doings, blind to notice who watches them. Those empty pots. Playing their naive games of betrayal.
Disenchanted.
Disguised. Gathering. Seeding. Harvesting.
Where are your friends now?
If you do not have someone who would plot a plan to rescue you from a deadly hostile situation without being paid or receiving something in return, going against the odds and social approval, that means you are alone in this world.
-Reflection on Friendship
Sight of Lutetia
Synchrony inside an asynchrony
What was not meant to be
That what should not be
The sight of a black cat
Catholic cat, apostolic
Roman Catholic cross
Crossed a heretic
Untitled
Beneath the sea of sand, drowned and buried. Aeolus above Poseidon. The tall and beautiful ones died from starvation and amnesia. Fuck them, arrogant bastards anyway.
Untitled
Marooned in very dull times. In the heart of such arrogant, primitive societies. Where they lived miserably in a radiant land, where every aboriginal creature blissfully sprouted but bloomed into unhappiness.
Inbound to a place called Earth, which once was the land of the men-thing, where they ate each other alive for billions of solar circles. Fairly located at the very centre of the universe.
Beware of me. I must be the worst criminal of my kind. To deserve such punishment.
About men's vanity:
We were walking on the beach, disrespected, I complained.
It is one of my clearest memories, these words of truth, that were capable to pierce the hardest shield.
-You will not be loved, you're too difficult, you cannot be loved by anyone. No one will ever love you and you know that.
I couldn't contain my laugh. In that moment she was gone and became less than a memory.
I knew, but she should never tell me.
Untitled
In the Hellfire might Burn
In the Hellfire Robert Burns!
Hellfirebirds will sing over and over
Crimson and Clover
Untitled
Indeed, the order of events is meaningful as the events itself. We may never know if things happen for a reason, but every reason comes from the things that happened. All the known universe is nothing but a spark in time. And somehow it doesn't exist anymore, somewhere. But who would dare to say it hasn't been real? People in their arrogance would.
As we look up to the far skies and many of the stars are already gone. Each millisecond (or any "smaller" partition of time) from the past is gone into the darkness and oblivion. What remains in the present or pursues to the future is the remaining inertia alone, or for us creatures, what we call memories. It grows weaker and older that exponentially fades into other sparks.
However, incapable of explaining nor understanding how it works, as if it works. Do the living and thinking things, entities and incognoscibles, opposite to the will of the universe, have any original influence? Is the will of the universe immutable, constant or inconstant? When the player moves the pawn, what moves the player? Who decided to cross the river?
This unexpurgated chaos, so marvelously plotted mechanism that only can be unveiled to non mechanical and non mathematical terms to be understood. That is exactly the unthinkable, or nothing. Architected and unarchitected, not only in the sense of cosmology, but also in all the abstract terms that are so real as the rest, as another fading branch of this colossal eonic spark, that could however fade into others beyond our comprehension, as, the cosmos maybe incomprehensible for the predecessor power. The broken and asymmetrical fractal consequences are mathematically impossible, consequently the impossible being possible. And the only free will as it should play, is by mistake.
The abstract is - still, the bridge to the cosmos. As a plant needs sun and water or a fish must swim, the man does its role as man in universal terms and ways, in a cosmos that is already gone as an abstraction that is still about to come.
Nothing makes everything possible. Nothing is and is not abstract. Nothing is real. And the best part is that everything is possible.
Ghost In Haste
Into this realm, I came with quickness,
An endeavor for me.
Without a doubt, a serious business,
Serious as it could be.
Untitled
Animistic thinkers…
2023
Primal Verve
Towards, always ahead, never late. Moves fast and keeps no track.
Source of beauty, youth and strength.
Wicked, gentle, temerous, daring, immoral and showing no mercy!
The unknown might that arouses all contraries.
That choses; it is never chosen.
Make the favourites audacious and keeps the lame as servants.
Untitled
everything has its natural limits
Relinquishing the human lore
The city was clean and the air was clear, fresh weather. The architecture was solid and fancy. Only a few citizens around, male and female, all young and very similar in stature, structure and general traits, healthy, vigorously moving along the boulevards. Long vertical banners of green, some orange and some blue, large doors with stair steps in front of it.
There were no vehicles there. Not because they did not had it, but it was not necessary inside of the downtowns.
As we walked we wondered, if humans could ever live there.
Without tribe and society, law, ideal, ridiculous customs, esotericism and religion, art, culture, idealism, anthropocentrism, philosophy, several others to mention. We wondered if humans could ever live there.
The city was built on the same stone where history has never existed. Was home but in the way it should be. Where the human lore is known but not acknowledged.
Hoard
The Hoard is a verbal finery, part of the texts I've collected from the crypts of existentialism savants. This text is one of many that composes my collection or grimoire. I intentionally exposed only a few excerpts of it here in order to hide the knowledge but revealing the nature of the content.
I reopened these scripts that have been closed for many years. That never been closed or forgotten de facto, but waiting.
The excerpts of the Hoard are the following:
1. Make sure that nothing will secretly creep into you: watch over everything that comes from outside...
2. Growing this direction until you are able to realise the frivolity, useless and the threat of...
3. Bring them deliberately to satisfaction and then get rid of them...
4. Whose glance instills silence...
5. This is our Hoard: 0.
Reprieve
Then the Gods sent wind, storm, thunder and hail.
The mortal stood impassive.
They took everything from him in order to put him on his knees.
He cried and laughed.
Gods:
- What do you want, mortal? If you fear no loss or pain, what do you want in order to make you fear us? We can give you anything you want to bow to us.
Mortal:
- The most precious thing I have, no one can take it. The thing I want the most you can't give me.
Gods:
- What do you want?
Mortal:
- I may never tell you.
They looked deeply inside his soul, hearth and mind, through the time and generations. They tortured him deeply, found strength and weaknesses, secrets and fears. But couldn't find what he wanted the most.
He sacrificed and forgot what he wanted the most to not share it with the Gods.
The Gods, fooled by the mortal in their own ways, incapable of finding his last will and ultimate secret, ashamed they left him alone forever and never looked after him again. The mortal, without knowing or remembering, got what he wanted the most.
Death is all about life
The fairest thing about life is death. There is no living thing who is not destined to die.
About humans: the worst oppressor once may die, the heroes, givers, saviors, the thieves, all the good hearted people may perish and not suffer for the ungrateful anymore. No one can suffer or make suffer forever.
Even if put into the darkest dungeon for the eternity, may death come like a bless to put end to the torture.
Christian mythology talks about Hell and Heaven. One filled with dumb tattooed selfish people, the other with dumb selfish obedient servants. The Hebrews says about returning to life to live the same life again with the very same ignorant people around. Others say about paradise where you will be living pleasures, a cockaigne, where nothing matters, nonsense. Some about born again in a new body, samsara. All living as if death were the worst thing.
Why wonder afterlife? If they don't live when they have the fresh and only life in their hands very once? Dream about the bone with the steak in their mouths?
Because they are not alive. They don't live, they are in this almost death state, looking for life. Afraid of life because fear of living is worse than the fear of death.
Do not fear death and fear no life. Do not fear to live and fear no death.
Acceptance of death is more complex than any other issue in life. The mother of all fears. Knowing and loving death is knowing and loving life.
What seems dark and awful renders the brightest reward.
Untitled
Being what it is. And still diving into human realm. Bestiality.
Tedious anthropomorphs. Gaunt souls. Repetitive patterns.
Not knowing the self. Blaming others for their own unfitness.
Folklore, rituals, fear, fate, karma, beliefs, compliance, history, ideals.
The supreme land animal still, clueless.
Nature never sleeps.
2021
Untitled
when inside of the bottle
the wine is mellow, calm and mild
when outside of the bottle
the wine is strong, fierce and wild
isn't having the strongest horse
but it having a bridle
how the master measure his force
turning the agrestal into idyll
Not Original / Other Authors
art will save you, being unreasonably passionate about something niche will save you, letting past sources of joy show you the way back to yourself will save you, earnestness over composure will save you, the natural world will save you, caring for something bigger than yourself will save you, daring to be seen will save you, kindness not as a whim but a principle will save you, appreciation as a practice will save you, daring to try something new will save you, grounding will save you, love will save you, one good nights sleep will save you
- tordenvejr, tumblr
i love sex. i love fucking. i love pleasing. i love penetration. i love watching. i love everything leading up to it: kissing, touching, licking, sucking. omg i love sucking it. i love how it feels and i love how i can make others feel. i love to explore. i love the tension, the moans and weeps and shivers and shakes. i love the slowness or the rapid speed. i feel like a goddess when it's from the back. i feel powerful on top. telling me to "move your hands" or "open your legs" when i can barely take it. in a car or in a bed or anywhere we feel like it, i'll take it. i'm not embarrassed about who i fuck or how many times i fuck because that is something i genuinely enjoy doing. that is one thing no one on this earth can make me feel bad about… i genuinely do not care about opinions. i just love fucking.
- jamilajamon, tumblr
Excerpt
Death is meaningful to us in life.
Thus, since at some point I will cease to be, no manner of living can achieve the fulfilling, meaningful life, since no way of living will permit me to continue in the world.
This, contends Heidegger, should shatter any illusion that mere norm-following might be the right way to live.
Thus, in the face of our inevitable death we are brought to reject our reliance on cultural norms as the eudaimon way to be, and to take responsibility for our own selves.
In anticipating death I reject 'the they' and take responsibility for myself: I become authentic.
The knowledge that our lives will end brings with it the joy of the realisation that our choices about our way of being matter.
- Don Crewe in Existentialist Criminology
Excerpt
"When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been and there you will always long to return."
Attributed to Leonardo Da Vinci. His words or not, it remains as a fact.
Excerpt
In the void is virtue and no evil. Wisdom has existence, principle has existence, the Way has existence, spirit is nothingness.
- Miyamoto Musashi
Excerpt
No one will believe you.
That is exactly as it is meant to be.
Salavi laughed.
But tell them anyway. Tell them once.
Then tell them they have been told and leave.
- Book of Chichimeca
Excerpt
Nature understands no jesting; she is always true, always serious, always severe; she is always right, and the errors and faults are always those of man, the man incapable of appreciating her, she despises; and only the apt, the pure, and the true, does she resign herself and reveal her secrets.
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Excerpt
Horace, Odes 4.4.29-32 (tr. Niall Rudd)
The brave are born from the brave and good.
Their sire's valour comes out in young bulls and horses;
ferocious eagles do not father timid doves.
Fortes creantur fortibus et bonis;
est in iuvencis, est in equis patrum
virtus, neque inbellem feroces
progenerant aquilae columbam.
Theognis 535-538 (tr. Dorothea Wender):
Slave heads don't ever stand up straight, they grow
Tipped down in servitude, their backs bent low;
No rose or hyacinth comes from the wild
Squill, not does a slave bear a free child.
οὔποτε δουλείη κεφαλὴ ἰθεῖα πέφυκεν,
ἀλλ᾽ αἰεὶ σκολιὴ, καὐχένα λοξὸν ἔχει.
οὔτε γὰρ ἐκ σκίλλης ῥόδα φύεται οὐδ᾽ ὑάκινθος,
οὔτε ποτ᾽ ἐκ δούλης τέκνον ἐλευθέριον.
Lucretius 3.741-752 (tr. Martin Ferguson Smith):
Furthermore, why does bitter fury go with the sullen breed of lions, why craft with foxes, why is the instinct of flight transmitted to deer from their fathers, the father's timidity impelling their limbs, why are all other qualities of this sort generated in the body and the character from the beginnings of life, if not because in each seed and breed its own fixed power of mind grows along with each body? But if it were immortal, and accustomed to pass from body to body, living creatures would show confused habits: the dog of Hyrcanian breed would often flee before the horned stag's onset; the hawk would tremble, flying through the air from the advancing dove; men would lack reason, the wild generations of wild beasts would have it.
Denique cur acris violentia triste leonum
seminium sequitur, volpes dolus, et fuga cervis
a patribus datur et patrius pavor incitat artus?
et iam cetera de genere hoc cur omnia membris
ex ineunte aevo generascunt ingenioque,
si non, certa suo quia semine seminioque
vis animi pariter crescit cum corpore quoque?
quod si inmortalis foret et mutare soleret
corpora, permixtis animantes moribus essent:
effugeret canis Hyrcano de semine saepe
cornigeri incursum cervi tremeretque per auras
aeris accipiter fugiens veniente columba;
desiperent homines, saperent fera saecla ferarum.
In all three passages, the rhetorical trope known as adynaton (impossibility) is joined to the theme of the hereditary nature of qualities.
ctrl+c ctrl+v from the blog "Laudator Temporis Acti" (great content by the way)
laudatortemporisacti.blogspot.com/2010/03/fortes-creantur-fortibus.html