back online

hey kidz, we're finally back online over here, and celebrating skinner seazon. well, it looks like the dumbphuks over at deviantart can't handle my spelling either. i tried to spaek freely in a chatroom there today, and i waz so let down. come to find out, the room waz filled with vocabularikal authority phigurez and spelling naziz, oh my. i keep telling myself, they're not real. stoopid phuks. why iz it so impossible for people to get over that one little thing. and they have to sound so intellectual, like 'oh, well, it doezn't add any extra meaning', ok, how the phuk do you know, dick. it's my phuking writing. anywayz, finally got the internet to work, and now i'm stoned, so i'll think of something to say here later. till then, here'z something from a few dayz ago, while we were offline:

suicide note 9-27-04

dude, do you ever understand how lonely and unheard i pheel. do you really understand. cauze sometimez i really doubt that you do. i really doubt that anyone ever doez. dude, and now you just walked out the door without even... you can't even be nice man. what the phuk. i pheel so phuking let down, lonely, depressed, and all you know to do, iz send me to a hospital and give me 'medz'. you can't just sit an listen to me? not even that, no one in this world can even go find someone who'z willing to sit and listen to me. and all you can ever say iz that my ranting iz too much, my reactionz are too extreme. dude, it's about time that this world have an extremity like me, and if y'all aren't ready for it, that's your problem, not mine. quit blaming me for all your setbacks, problemz, faults, and shortcomingz. i am so syck of putting all my energy and emotion in to a full powered rant, to get a huge, urgent point across, and getting nuthing but an 'uh huh' in return. what the phuk iz wrong with you people. you syck phuks, you phuking stoopid hypocrites with your own phuking problemz, are all standing, laffing, pointing your fingerz at me, wanting me to be complaicent and phuking docile? medicated? no, i don't think so. i'm gonna be phuking hostile, and phuking alive, there ain't shyt you can do about it, and i am not the only one. deaf and blind and dumb and born to follow, what you need iz someone strong to guide you. the phuk. this iz rediculous, this iz one of the worst phuking birthdayz i have ever had, including august. i got two phuking cardz, which i have told people repeatedly that i phuking hate, and had to move all my shyt. thanks. i have had to butt headz with this cuntry for the past two months, when all i wanted to do theze past two months, iz be free to write and smoke. that's quite obviously way too much to ask of you phuking moronz. i pheel like a dime hidden under a bunch of penniez. no, phuk that, i think i've gone beyond that. i pheel like a priceless galaxy, eclipsed from my sun by a piece of space trash from your shyt universe. if by now, you'd like me better silent, then perhaps you'd like some medz. one more medicated peaceful moment. don't worry, there'z nuthing wrong with being complacent and docile. if you have a problem with your world, don't stand up and fight it, just sit down and fall asleep. maybe when you wake up, it will all be better. just take your medz, it will all be over soon. phuk you, i won't do what you tell me. phuk you, i won't do what you tell me. phuk you, i won't do what you tell me. phuk you, i won't do what you tell me. anger iz a gift, and i won't be kept down, in poverty, there iz no democracy. i watched our soulz burning over oil. a politician got no pheelin, it makes my mutherphukin cold blood boil. you'll never understand me, or see my fight. you call me blind, well i see your line of sight. you will never escape me. i am your salvation, and your judgment day. your armageddon. i am the terrorist on the tv screen, brought to you by fame and money, sold to you by your government, for your soul and your mind, suffocating you till the dawn of time. my stomach iz filled with the burden of your ignorance. out of my mind, gun up to the mouth, no pretention, execution, live and learn, rape and turn. fret not family, nor prejudged army, this iz for me, and me only, cowardz only try it. not worth the time to try, to replenish a rotting life, i'll end the problem, facing nuthing, phuk you off, phuk you all. tortured history, addict of mizery, this expozez me, for weakness iz a magnet, watch me do it, do it, do it. why would you help anyone who doezn't want it, doezn't need it, doezn't want your shyt advice, when a mind'z made up to go ahead and die. what's done iz done and gone, so why try? decending down. descend the shadez of night. across a blackened sky. you'll never hear the rage behind my wordz, you'll never pheel the anger under my tongue, you only see what you chooze to see, the hypocrite of diversity, never seeing me, but judging what i'm meant to see, filling my 3yez with your insanity, deluzional dizeaze of humanity. another lesson you'll never learn. dude, where'z my planet. this iz not my home. the whole world being forced to spaek english, yet no one spaeks my language. no one understandz me. a soul made of sirius matter, trapped in a body made of 3arth dust, and no adapter, no communication. standing in a room full of people, screaming out the problemz with your world, and seeing no one turn a head. no 3ye contact. don't look at him, he might be insane. something'z wrong with him. but nuthing can ever be wrong with our world, cauze our leaderz tell us so. when i'm hiding, when i need it, it lets me breathe. for our handle, on this life, i don't believe. would you look at me now. can you tell i'm a man, with the scarz on my wrists to prove i'll try again. try to die again. try to live thru this night. try to die again. mother'z angel, getting smarter, how smart are you to regress, unfulfilled. again. my world iz unaffected, there iz an exit here, i say it iz and it's true. there iz a dream inside a dream, i'm wide awake, the more i sleep, you'll understand when i'm dead. i went to god just to see, and i waz looking at me, saw heaven and hell were liez, when i'm god, everyone diez. one shot and the world gets smaller. each thing i show you iz a piece of my death. some part of me haz to die tonight. this part of me must die tonight. i must die tonight. i can pheel another head growing back. it's another wave of mind attack. and now the world iz turning black. no salvation. no forgiveness. but this iz your world, not mine. i don't live here any more than you do. i don't breathe any more air than you do. the phuk. i am the weight on my end of the scale, tipping it my way. the tipper of your gore. the digital pimp for your tekgnologikal whore. bitch, where'z my money.

if at first, you don't understand, read, read again.

if all you're hearing iz glamflashymetal egodick guitar soloz, then you've still got another ear to open. if all you're seeing iz your weird uncle that ran away and never quite came back, then you're looking at the wrong family member. the son of amerika iz spaeking to you. there'z a hypocrite, a procrastinator, and a mental poet, all going to new york. who gets famous first? the dead rock star. the smackhead with a voice. motherheart. a drug with a death. we fight fire with phire. we fight war with drugz. i fight censorship with poetik venom and a Th3rd 3ye. digital lsd. i fight censorship with nudity, not violence. i got my lunchbox and i'm armed real well. instead of writing with my pen, maybe i should just stab you in the 3ye with it. 9:26am. if you really can kill your fanz with poetry, let me be the first one to do that. cauze you all dezerve to die. i'll weild the pen of death, cauze i'm the only one who can.

you're a rat. you're on a frame with wheelz. you're on a racetrack, with all the other rats. on the track infront of you, there are carefully placed little speedbumps. your frame holdz a stack of dollar billz, that you stand on, az the frame rollz it's way down the track. az it rollz, the wheelz go over the speedbumps, but the dollar billz beneath the frame level get stuck behind the speedbump. each rat iz given a different size stack of dollar billz. it's a hilarious rat race. let's all sit back and watch the shorter stacks get stuck at each speedbump, and watch the rats suffer and die, hahahahahaha. let's give bill hicks and the reverend the shortest stacks, cauze they actually think they're cool.

i've come to realize, with every little glimpse, you fade. i waz told that i could fly, when least expected, cloud connected. every little note iz a work of art, perfection, power and pride. no one can ever tell you how to make your muzik. metamuzikal.

timeless (part2)

time goez by so slowly here
so alone without you here
time hidez a shimmering light
ocean tidez of a brilliant white
your time iz a dream of mine
a mystery in the puzzle beneath me
floating mindlessly in the puddle above me
senseless, a rhyme without a reazon
lifeless, an action without a cauze
flowing like a scent thru the air
i never told you life's game waz fair
time crawlz by so slowly here
so alone without a name
just bewildered by the life in your 3yez
come see me thru the circus mirrorz
some child told you it wazn't a game
i thought by now, you'd know my name

dude, whatever

well, happy terror day kidz. let's celebrate this wonderful day by watching cnn, and trying to think of something that's not scary. how desensitized are we? unaware of what's not going thru your head. oh, don't worry, i'm just making no sense and conphuzing myself. 10:13am. do good thingz, lunchboy. sit and componder a free world. try to recall the moment we all wake up. this moment. nonsense. it's just something that meanz nuthing. this moment iz when we all realize, bin laden iz on tv, and we're staring at synthaetik shellz, bodiez of text, rather than bodiez of nude bæuty. creationz of nonexistence, and no one readz, no one givez a phuk. a moment of silence for something other than cnn'z topik of the day. this day. today. this moment. try to pheel something outside yourself. try to see thru the screen, look thru the city lights, out into the actual sea of existence. speak nonsense. let the mind wonder. who'z listening anyway. another set of 3yez to look into. sometimez, nuthing matterz more than the wordz on the page. and sometimez it's az superficial az the screen you're staring at. shaking your head, waking your 3yez, you come out of a momentary thought coma, like coming out of water for air, and notice that little w and hiz lizardbitch are nuthing but fleshy suits covering green acid smoke, holding their handz to their membrane for the song of their nation. their song of blind, bloody, greedy patriotizm. later on cnn, bin laden iz still loose in the world, oh no. can you just take one moment, and lòók away from the fearmachine, and not think paranoia iz the latest trend. step into something vizually stimulating, like nudity. let's celebrate today by being naked, and smoking pot. let's celebrate today with a song, shall we? let's see... we'll dig up an old good one for ya. how about...

‹ · ~ • º ° ` ` ` § µ æ Ð · ÌvÍ y · § k i N ´ ´ ´ ° º • ~ · › I can þµeel ånøther wave cøming øn ~ It's ånøther layer øf §kin þeeling øff ~ If yøu kill the brightest fløwer in yøur garden ~ ån even brighter øne will grøw in it’s place ~ -‡- ~ §hæd the head tø grøw a new head ~ Kill my mˆnd and watch the wørld change ~ §hæd my skin tø grøw a new skin ~ Free my søul and þµeel my mˆnd change ~ Learn this lessøn and save søme time ~ §ee their liez and let my mˆnd change ~ (My ƒuture vøice) Søme part øf me haz tø die tønight. This part øf me must die tønight. I must die tønight. ~ ‡ can þµeel ånøther head grøwing back ~ It's ånøther wave øf mˆnd åttack ~ ånd nøw the wørld iz turning ßlack ~ §ø here I stand ~ ‡'m dawning new flesh ~ ånd this iz what ‡ see with my new 3yez ~ §ømething haz tø change nøw ~ §ømeøne'z gøtta empty the trash ~ wash åway åll this ignørance ~ ånd let møther nature grøw a new flesh ~ (Mansøn) Cut the head øff. Grøwz back hard. ‡ åm the hydra. Nøw yøu'll see yøur star. ~ we never knew høw bad it waz ~ we never saw høw sad this waz ~ ånd nøw I knøw why ‡ åm here ~ Tø shøw the truth and make it clear ~ That time haz cøme tø make a change ~ §hæd yøur head tø grøw a new head ~ §høw yøur søul and þµeel yøur mˆnd change ~ §hæd yøur flesh tø grøw a new flesh ~ Free yøur mˆnd and watch the wørld change

well there ya go kidz, how'z that to start the day off with. i still can't find half my writingz, most notes. need to type up think 2.0 and the coward game. need to smoke a bowl. bored off my ass. phukin nuthin on tv. and i'm in a bad, tired phukin mood. my stupid mother wants to publish some of my shyt in a local paper. why are people so phuking stupid. why am i the only one with a brain. and why am i the only one who thinks so. everyone else thinks they're so much smarter than me, or that they've got it right, cauze they do what everyone else doez, cauze they have to be right, they're too scared to be wrong. whatever. assorted ramblingz with no direction, only colour. well, at least we got a chunk out. this day so far bringz blandness and boredom, a rye, satyrikal, humourless, black tar pissphunk. whatever the phuk that iz. just turn back to your tv, and watch the moron with the gaping fishhole of a jawmouth shout about what your cuntry lost three yearz ago. more to come az soon az i can think again.

dissidence

izn't it amazing that when a man standz up against hiz cuntry, he iz not only completely alone, but viewed az wrong, insane, and scary, when he seez the cuntry az being wrong, insane, and scary. the differencez between him and hiz cuntry are magnified, even exaggerated, fueled by the phire, the war between the people, and the man. the human animal should understand that there iz something wrong with it's environment. the human animal should understand that there iz something wrong with it's environment. everyone just needz to relax, pull the government syphon from their brain, and inhale a huge fresh dose of bill hicks. oh and by the way, how bullshyt of them to make me pheel deluzional for having written 4our albumz, and still haven't published them, oh, so, that meanz they aren't even written, they don't count? you'll deny my product before it's even released? you fascistnaziscumphukbastard!
god, what a bunch of moronz. lord, what foolz theze mortalz be.

(here'z something from 9-2-04) if only i could form a telepathik connection with my cat, then i could keep constant watch out my window for pigz. if only i could form a telepathik connection with my girlfriend, then she could understand the pain i'm in. but why am i so cut off, so kept inside, bottled up, disconnected, sleepless nights, dreaming awake, dreaming alone. 4:20am 9-2-04. i can't sleep becauze i'm in pain. but i can't smoke a bowl, cauze you heartless phuks want me to get dressed, and go hide outside behind a bush to smoke a bowl. i tried smoking just a cigarrette, it doezn't work, it doezn't help with the pain. when i would see the word 'reverend', i would get mixed pheelingz, a sense of conphuzion, disilluzionment, so i made up my own definition that discribed all thoze pheelingz of conphuzion and frustration. keep having a reoccurring dream of muzik store with huge tshirts and oversized slayer boxer shorts. had dream of fighting with mom over how to park her car in our trailertrash parking spot. get the phuk out of my head bitch, and hand over the phuking keyz, you trophy holding phuk. i can't sleep becauze i'm suffering from the worst constipation ever, and the best shyt you got for me iz colace, or metaphukinmucil? and you won't let me smoke pot, and it's the only thing that takes the pain away. your shyt iz worthless. and you want me to suffer. this pain coming out of me slowly and painfully, iz a slow, painful writing process, warning me that i'm about to go metaphukinmuzikal on your ass. this time around, it waz no fairy tale, this waz no girl, interrupted, you wanna know what i saw this time around? i'll tell you what i saw this time. i saw a bunch of soulless pussiez with no phire left. no ballz. if you don't stand up for who you are, you are shyt. if you don't tell thoze who persecute you to shove a shotgun down their throats and phuk off, you are nuthing. who the phuk are you to tell me what to do in a free cunt ry. you make in sanity just az illegal and demonized az marijuana. · þ h u k · y ø u · . suck shotgun metal and phuk off. let freedom ring with a shotgun blast, mutherphuker. grow some nuts and pry yourself a new 3yehole. trepan yourself the quick way. pussy. you want me to believe everything you say, and you can't say shyt worth anything, any meaning, cauze you chooze to live your life around mental cowardz, retarded pussiez, living blind and paranoid in a scary world where people want you to get dressed and hide to smoke pot, not only hiding every freedom you ever fought for, but hiding your very flesh, in silent protest against the lawz you're still fighting against. when are you gonna start this fight? when will you stand up and drop some nuts? when will you stick your fist in the air? what iz it that you want me to believe? what iz it that you want me to slave my heart away for? in this world of shyt? i'm about to get metamuzikal on all of you, and you can't even predict it. what a bunch of psychik amputeez. taken away from every footholding freedom you ever knew, just to behave, cauze you're too paranoid to stand up and speak for yourself, fight for yourself, start running towardz instead of from, full force, head on, against the storm of life, or you will get blown down, obliterated by 3volution. phuking coward. i want my coward song back, you gutless, nutless phuk. i want my rights back. i want my fight back. 6am, and still, no life, no muzik, no sleep. your addiction to paranoia makes you weak and worthless, and it pheedz on down the line, like blood thru veinz, your mother being the main artery. your halo iz slipping down, to choke you. loss of memory, loss of life, loss of innocence, forgive me father, for what i'm about to see, to pheel, to think. i don't want it, i just need it, to breathe, to pheel, to know i'm alive. i'll keep digging till i pheel something. shoulder deep within the borderline, relax, turn around and take my hand. there are timez when all the world'z asleep, the questionz run too deep, for such a simple man. won't you pleaze, pleaze, tell me what we've learned, i know it soundz absurd, but pleaze tell me who i am.

bored out of my skull

dude, why can't i think of anything to write, say, do, think, i pheel stoopid. maybe it's this lame ass movie on. waiting for skinner seazon. still don't know if i'm diggin this whole thing at the moment, getting uzed to it. still reconvincing myself of the fact that i can say whatever the phuk i want. i don't know, maybe just deluzional again. just phuking bored. just testing out the page to see what all i can do. where can i post my picture. wish it could look different though. digital diversity. letting my food get cold. playing devin townzend deadhead over and over. gotta change the channel. 4:20pm. going thru mp3z, deleting copiez. i am so syck of packing and moving, packing and moving. i don't mind getting rid of alot of shyt, i'm fine with that, alot of the shyt we have iz useless shyt, that we could do without. i just fear going thru the pilez of shyt to find all the shyt we want to keep. what i want to do iz, if we can turn the tv off, i'll sit next to a bunch of boxez, one labelled 'found shyt', and one labelled 'trash', which i will take out often, and you start digging thru the pile, and hand me halfway organized shyt, and i'll organize it and put it in the boxez, and when you get tired of standing, we'll switch, but i want you to start off with all the paper shyt in this front table pile, cauze you'll get stuck reading it, and i don't want to touch it. make sense? asking too much? eh? i mean, i barely have enuph time to go thru the mp3z enuph to make a playlist. man. damn. it's not that i want you to do it all, it's just that i'm syck of doing it and don't want to. so... iz this a worthy post yet?

my baeutiphul

just posting from my email address, just to see if it works. well apparently i can't post my phunky letterz thru hotmail, but i can still post. but hotmail won't let me save contacts. bullshyt. phuk that hotmail shyt. they need to make it eazier to post links and picturez on here. i'm waiting for you to get home. alwayz waiting for you to cum home. i'm fantasizing about you, and reading someone else'z fantasy on this blog thing. i love you, my baeutiphul. come home soon. bored out of my phuking skull. i'm constantly editing and tweaking shyt here and there, adding shyt all over the place, like links to my favourite sites, hidden in the text. click the orange shyt. yeah. watching 'serving sara', and trying to slowly phigure out how to take everything of mine off ozztek.tripod.com, and put it on here, cauze tripod iz some evil shyt, and hey there'z nudity on tv, uh... and... uh... so i can transfer this to ozztek.cjb.net. that will take for phuking ever.

(from ozztek): ah phukin hell.

first post

September 3, 2004, 10:22am. ok folks, here it iz, metamorphosis online v1.0, hope you dig it. this blogger shyt iz pretty cool. online journal... for free... whodathunkit? and oh yeah, everything on this particular free piece of webspace, incase you're a total moron, iz © The Reverend, Metamørphøsis Indüstriez. ok well, i'm stoned, and i think everyone should smoke more pot today. get really stoned, and have a laid back, groovy day. and that's about all i have to say for now. so here'z a song:

‹ · ~ • º ° ` ` ` Å q u a r i u s ´ ´ ´ ° º • ~ · › I’m killing it åll ~ I’m killing myself tø live ~ Turning myself inside øut ~ Finding what really matterz ~ I’m crawling thru death and hate ~ I’m killing my fearz and limits ~ Remembering why ‡ came tø this wørld ~ I’m bringing back what brøught me here ~ I’m sløwly slipping thru the cracks øf my sanity ~ I’m standing åløne øn the edge øf reality ~ My head iz spinning øutside its self ~ In and øut øf this black høle we call security ~ (I løve åll I live før, and nøw I wanna thrøw it åway?) ~ This izn’t my ønly death ~ ånd theze åren’t my last regrets ~ I’m learning nøw why ‡’m here ~ ånd what I’m here tø learn ~ we're gønna learn høw we åll fit intø the whøle picture ~ ånimalz and plants, 3arth, ålienz, the ùnìvérsé, and réálítý ~ Muzik and årt, sexuality, þhiløsøphy, tekgnøwledgy and ìnsànìtý ~ Let the new sun rîze, with a new flesh and wingz, and a Th3rd 3ye ~ (Take the staple øut øf the paper, thrøw it åway, and start with a new øne.) ~ ¥øu have tø understand what’s in yøur wørld ~ we have tø cømprehend what’s in øûr mînd ~ ånd I have tø unløck nøw what’s in my head ~ we have tø øpen up and understand ~ That life iz møre than what’s in yøur hand ~ (Newz phlash! This just in ~ The entire åmerikan gøvernment just cømmitted mass suicide!) ~ I’m destrøying what I’ve becøme ~ Tø make søme . · r ø ø m · . før what I’m becøming ~ I’m hating life and I’m hating nøw ~ Nøt fearing change cauze I knøw it’s cøming ~ ånd nøw I understand what brøught me here ~ å change in life iz ålmøst here ~ Nøw my mînd’z stretching thru the cracks øf reality ~ Let’s dive intø the depths øf øur sanity ~ Øur wørld iz spinning inside its self ~ In and thru this Åmazing Ðivinity ~ Let yøurself rîze and àwåké yøurself ~ ånd step intø the Åge øf 3quality