Ben Coulter's Blog
October 10, 2015
The Hermetic Cull(t)
I ask you to invest your imagination with me, momentarily, to unbridle your brain from the coached mundane. To set a kooky course for a parallel universe, where this extraordinary world is mirrored in all things.
All things, except, the ability of every sentient being on that planet to utilise magic. A gnostic licence to tailor the material world to their own individual wants and needs. The body, the partner, the home, the health, the knowledge, the wealth. The material happiness required to live that life, on that planet, without the need for transitory suffering. A birthright from the Godhead. Now imagine that this birthright was diluted from their consciousness for the gain of a select few. A covetous group of warlocks who rose to power, through supposed intellect and meritocracy. Their hoggish justification? If everyone were witches and wizards, no one would be left to carry out the slavery of paid labour; building their castles and servicing their private jets, managing their stocks and mining their natural resources. To fight the wars needed to perpetuate their choke hold on the planet; keeping the sacred sites of the ancient craft under their total control, whilst continuing to divide and conquer the global populous as a chirpy bonus. To discover new technologies used to enslave the masses further; from caffeine to nicotine, glossy magazines to bright white phone screens, all set for a night of dread filled horror dreams, and then psychology, with ever evolving terminology, for the ones who can’t sleep. To find new cures for all the dis-ease, physical and metaphysical, so the workforce and armies could march on undeterred and strong. Or simply to entertain all of the above, and themselves, through song, film, picture and painting. All the while they, amounting to just 1% of the total population, lived a life of unimpaired ease in outstanding luxury, whilst enjoying in abundance all the beautiful things their enchanted world had to offer. The more than capable alchemists who made up the rest of the 99% believed, through centuries of preconditioning, that they were born for this life and it was meant to be tough, that they had no real power of their own, and the most brilliant part of it all, they didn’t even realise they were slaves. Quite the contrary, they worshipped their masters for their veiled mercy, and their shining example on how to behave in a world of such hardship. The hermetic nobility kept their magic a staunch secret, of course. There were ways and means of climbing the ladder to their lofty perch, but the path was dimly lit for the multitude. But through all the years of social conditioning and conspiracy, their was a flame that flit deep within the souls of their fellow man, that the elite mystics could never extinguish. A constant and troublesome niggle, that there was something more to their lives, a key to a door they had not been shown. A science of soullessness and religions of subordination were offered up to answer their questions, but to also subversively mock and put down, any grasps at their limitless potential for magic, that esoteric artistry that wasn’t really esoteric at all, it was free and available to all if they only chose to illuminate their own existence with it.
I’d want to be a wizard in that world.
All things, except, the ability of every sentient being on that planet to utilise magic. A gnostic licence to tailor the material world to their own individual wants and needs. The body, the partner, the home, the health, the knowledge, the wealth. The material happiness required to live that life, on that planet, without the need for transitory suffering. A birthright from the Godhead. Now imagine that this birthright was diluted from their consciousness for the gain of a select few. A covetous group of warlocks who rose to power, through supposed intellect and meritocracy. Their hoggish justification? If everyone were witches and wizards, no one would be left to carry out the slavery of paid labour; building their castles and servicing their private jets, managing their stocks and mining their natural resources. To fight the wars needed to perpetuate their choke hold on the planet; keeping the sacred sites of the ancient craft under their total control, whilst continuing to divide and conquer the global populous as a chirpy bonus. To discover new technologies used to enslave the masses further; from caffeine to nicotine, glossy magazines to bright white phone screens, all set for a night of dread filled horror dreams, and then psychology, with ever evolving terminology, for the ones who can’t sleep. To find new cures for all the dis-ease, physical and metaphysical, so the workforce and armies could march on undeterred and strong. Or simply to entertain all of the above, and themselves, through song, film, picture and painting. All the while they, amounting to just 1% of the total population, lived a life of unimpaired ease in outstanding luxury, whilst enjoying in abundance all the beautiful things their enchanted world had to offer. The more than capable alchemists who made up the rest of the 99% believed, through centuries of preconditioning, that they were born for this life and it was meant to be tough, that they had no real power of their own, and the most brilliant part of it all, they didn’t even realise they were slaves. Quite the contrary, they worshipped their masters for their veiled mercy, and their shining example on how to behave in a world of such hardship. The hermetic nobility kept their magic a staunch secret, of course. There were ways and means of climbing the ladder to their lofty perch, but the path was dimly lit for the multitude. But through all the years of social conditioning and conspiracy, their was a flame that flit deep within the souls of their fellow man, that the elite mystics could never extinguish. A constant and troublesome niggle, that there was something more to their lives, a key to a door they had not been shown. A science of soullessness and religions of subordination were offered up to answer their questions, but to also subversively mock and put down, any grasps at their limitless potential for magic, that esoteric artistry that wasn’t really esoteric at all, it was free and available to all if they only chose to illuminate their own existence with it.
I’d want to be a wizard in that world.
Demons
Demons past.
Demons present.
Demons to come.
I salute you.
But I rebuke you.
I copulate with the very core of you.
For I am you and you know my truth.
The world is a lesson in pain, in shame, in happiness and love ever lasting.
Some come easy, some trickle down the walls of societal asylums like adolescent suicidal plasma, pining for the mercy of its elders.
Dowsing the flames of panic with intoxicants and carnal coitus, running from life with an eye to your back and a hint at the horror of the heart.
Distance is key. From them, from those, from it. But you are it. It is you. How can you run from that? Constant crashing contradictions that create bipolar politicians, within your soul. SOS. Distress. Trick or treat? Neither, for I’m a believer in tired eyes and plane rides. Run to the world if you like. Run to the sun. Run to you.
Midnight holds the key to a contented sanctuary the hermit can strive for in daily bread, give us this. You’re the baker, you’re the yeast, you’re the fucking self raising sour coming up from the gut of,
Demons past.
Demons present.
Demons to come.
Hold their hands and dance a circle coated in flame, fumble about their love, cut out their truth, boil it, frame it, forget it.
You’re my waste of time in the twilight. My repose from the social domination of daylight, and that’s not to dishonour the Lord of light, he’s just a popular choice amongst the masses, he holds a key, gasses, stuffed with vitamin D and they sow they’re seeds in it, gayly.
But, again, you’re forgetting; you are them and they are you.
They are your demons and theirs are you.
But who wants to share?
Our personal demons allow us the acquiescence to wallow in a lake of lament, soothing soul stress blisters, or brooding over stolen shards of heart glass, robbed by obsessive infatuation and adolescent loyalty to unfair, preprogrammed unities of violence and power. Man is more than capable of devouring its own anonymity amongst the ether, but demons seal the deal.
Is this a slush stacked riddle off the cuff with not a care for critical rebuff? You’re fucking right it is. Life is. And you are life. Note to self; if it ain’t for you then it ain’t for them. So scratch their reward from your intention and carry on in riddle and dirt. You need not their clapping hands to ease childhood’s abandoned questions. Yet they need you to need just that or there’s never going to be any of ‘that’ and they like ‘that’, don’t they?
Don’t question why you seek to elicit their tears with your web of words, for a like in the dark, a five star remark, can cut the rope. But one.. Well that’s still one. A fallen one. A Demon. An angelic son. So worship that one star for all it delivers, it’s free energy and you need a home inside of them. Scalpel your way in. From the top. They’ve given you that invitation and if they don’t know it yet your hand on their spine will soon straighten it all out.
For you are them and they are you.
They are your demons and theirs are you.
Demons present.
Demons to come.
I salute you.
But I rebuke you.
I copulate with the very core of you.
For I am you and you know my truth.
The world is a lesson in pain, in shame, in happiness and love ever lasting.
Some come easy, some trickle down the walls of societal asylums like adolescent suicidal plasma, pining for the mercy of its elders.
Dowsing the flames of panic with intoxicants and carnal coitus, running from life with an eye to your back and a hint at the horror of the heart.
Distance is key. From them, from those, from it. But you are it. It is you. How can you run from that? Constant crashing contradictions that create bipolar politicians, within your soul. SOS. Distress. Trick or treat? Neither, for I’m a believer in tired eyes and plane rides. Run to the world if you like. Run to the sun. Run to you.
Midnight holds the key to a contented sanctuary the hermit can strive for in daily bread, give us this. You’re the baker, you’re the yeast, you’re the fucking self raising sour coming up from the gut of,
Demons past.
Demons present.
Demons to come.
Hold their hands and dance a circle coated in flame, fumble about their love, cut out their truth, boil it, frame it, forget it.
You’re my waste of time in the twilight. My repose from the social domination of daylight, and that’s not to dishonour the Lord of light, he’s just a popular choice amongst the masses, he holds a key, gasses, stuffed with vitamin D and they sow they’re seeds in it, gayly.
But, again, you’re forgetting; you are them and they are you.
They are your demons and theirs are you.
But who wants to share?
Our personal demons allow us the acquiescence to wallow in a lake of lament, soothing soul stress blisters, or brooding over stolen shards of heart glass, robbed by obsessive infatuation and adolescent loyalty to unfair, preprogrammed unities of violence and power. Man is more than capable of devouring its own anonymity amongst the ether, but demons seal the deal.
Is this a slush stacked riddle off the cuff with not a care for critical rebuff? You’re fucking right it is. Life is. And you are life. Note to self; if it ain’t for you then it ain’t for them. So scratch their reward from your intention and carry on in riddle and dirt. You need not their clapping hands to ease childhood’s abandoned questions. Yet they need you to need just that or there’s never going to be any of ‘that’ and they like ‘that’, don’t they?
Don’t question why you seek to elicit their tears with your web of words, for a like in the dark, a five star remark, can cut the rope. But one.. Well that’s still one. A fallen one. A Demon. An angelic son. So worship that one star for all it delivers, it’s free energy and you need a home inside of them. Scalpel your way in. From the top. They’ve given you that invitation and if they don’t know it yet your hand on their spine will soon straighten it all out.
For you are them and they are you.
They are your demons and theirs are you.
All Else is Dream
Just go to sleep.
Shut your eyes.
It’s natural, it’s easy, it’s free.
They’re burning like a throat full of cinnamon, so just close them.
Yes cinnamon, like the video that just auto played on some bright white social media site.
What a time to be alive.
The Age of Enlightenment?
The Greek philosophers?
Shakespeare?
All of it foreplay for this the age of;
ego thriving,
sleep depriving,
jealousy driving,
attention striving,
corporate conniving,
moral compass diving,
All else is reality and dying.
Slowly trying yet realising, pressure equalising nihilistic life.
Nothingness without the cyber waves of furious, bright, white..
Switch it off an hour before, they say.
Intravenous, eyetravenous, brain-tra-fucking-venous.
Venus, love me to sleep.
Love thy sleep.
Know thy repose.
One last check, notification enslaving mechanism, I surrender to thee.
For only insomniacs left alive.
Maniacs thrive in habit forming, slumber time ritual.
Down with sleep!
Off I creep to a cyber land of fantasy and guise, where none can see a darting eye.
..But isn’t that also in dream?
Shut your eyes.
It’s natural, it’s easy, it’s free.
They’re burning like a throat full of cinnamon, so just close them.
Yes cinnamon, like the video that just auto played on some bright white social media site.
What a time to be alive.
The Age of Enlightenment?
The Greek philosophers?
Shakespeare?
All of it foreplay for this the age of;
ego thriving,
sleep depriving,
jealousy driving,
attention striving,
corporate conniving,
moral compass diving,
All else is reality and dying.
Slowly trying yet realising, pressure equalising nihilistic life.
Nothingness without the cyber waves of furious, bright, white..
Switch it off an hour before, they say.
Intravenous, eyetravenous, brain-tra-fucking-venous.
Venus, love me to sleep.
Love thy sleep.
Know thy repose.
One last check, notification enslaving mechanism, I surrender to thee.
For only insomniacs left alive.
Maniacs thrive in habit forming, slumber time ritual.
Down with sleep!
Off I creep to a cyber land of fantasy and guise, where none can see a darting eye.
..But isn’t that also in dream?
August 22, 2013
Are you an introvert or an extrovert?
I know which one I am; introvert and Proud! Unfortunately, being an introvert can be looked down upon in our modern, western society, but some of the greatest writers to ever hold a pen or finger jab at a keyboard have been introverts, also many leaders and public speakers. So why do we view it as weird, strange or ‘un-cool’ to be one?
Extroverts are looked up to by introverts a lot of the time in relationships, social circles and the workplace. Certain introverts will cling to the coattails of their favorite extrovert as they bask in their reflective glory. But there really is no need at all to do that my introverted friends! You too are equally as interesting and worthy of a human body. So, be who you've been born to be by the force of nature and embrace it!
I personally grew up with a very extroverted parent, who made me feel slightly at odds with the world growing up, because that’s who I looked to for guidance. And, unfortunately, some of the time extroverts can unwittingly scold the introvert for just being who they naturally are. For example; not getting up to dance at a party, not clapping along to the musical show, not running head first into the crowd laughing and joking as loud as you can to prove you’re equal to it. Okay so the last one is over-the-top, but you get my meaning. Extroverts are driven by their extroverted ways and do not know any other, so they want everyone around them to be the same, or it makes for an uncomfortable environment. But uncomfortable for who? Not for you, in essence. No, you like nothing more than to have a one-to-one deep and meaningful conversation rather than mass chit chat and feigned laughter. No, it’s uncomfortable for them, so do yourself a massive favor and never let that be for you, for you and ‘them’ are different and that’s nothing to be ashamed of!
The worst thing an introvert can do, or allow someone else to do to them, is to feel bad or be made to feel bad for being who they are. Extroverts can get away with doing so as they are deemed stronger character by society. But, they’re not, they’re equally as strong or as weak as the introvert, they’re just different people, with their brains wired in a different way. So trying to rewire your own brain is always going to lead to stress. And we all know where stress leads, anxiety, depression etc..
So again, I say embrace who you are and run with it! If you don’t like large social gatherings where other people appear so at ease, and happy, don’t go. You’re not missing out, you’re only missing the stress you don’t need. Or, if you do want to go, make sure you've had enough ‘you time’ to recharge those internal batteries first. And then, when you’re out and it feels those batteries have been drained again, just say your goodbye and leave with not an ounce of guilt. Never make excuses for who you are, and how you were born to be, just… Be.
We’re all infinite miracles formed of stardust and need to realize and appreciate that on a daily basis, then thrive at what we are. Use our given talents to make ourselves happy, and thus making those around us happy, those around them happy, eventually the whole world happy. “Be The Change.” … But don’t change what you are.
Extroverts are looked up to by introverts a lot of the time in relationships, social circles and the workplace. Certain introverts will cling to the coattails of their favorite extrovert as they bask in their reflective glory. But there really is no need at all to do that my introverted friends! You too are equally as interesting and worthy of a human body. So, be who you've been born to be by the force of nature and embrace it!
I personally grew up with a very extroverted parent, who made me feel slightly at odds with the world growing up, because that’s who I looked to for guidance. And, unfortunately, some of the time extroverts can unwittingly scold the introvert for just being who they naturally are. For example; not getting up to dance at a party, not clapping along to the musical show, not running head first into the crowd laughing and joking as loud as you can to prove you’re equal to it. Okay so the last one is over-the-top, but you get my meaning. Extroverts are driven by their extroverted ways and do not know any other, so they want everyone around them to be the same, or it makes for an uncomfortable environment. But uncomfortable for who? Not for you, in essence. No, you like nothing more than to have a one-to-one deep and meaningful conversation rather than mass chit chat and feigned laughter. No, it’s uncomfortable for them, so do yourself a massive favor and never let that be for you, for you and ‘them’ are different and that’s nothing to be ashamed of!
The worst thing an introvert can do, or allow someone else to do to them, is to feel bad or be made to feel bad for being who they are. Extroverts can get away with doing so as they are deemed stronger character by society. But, they’re not, they’re equally as strong or as weak as the introvert, they’re just different people, with their brains wired in a different way. So trying to rewire your own brain is always going to lead to stress. And we all know where stress leads, anxiety, depression etc..
So again, I say embrace who you are and run with it! If you don’t like large social gatherings where other people appear so at ease, and happy, don’t go. You’re not missing out, you’re only missing the stress you don’t need. Or, if you do want to go, make sure you've had enough ‘you time’ to recharge those internal batteries first. And then, when you’re out and it feels those batteries have been drained again, just say your goodbye and leave with not an ounce of guilt. Never make excuses for who you are, and how you were born to be, just… Be.
We’re all infinite miracles formed of stardust and need to realize and appreciate that on a daily basis, then thrive at what we are. Use our given talents to make ourselves happy, and thus making those around us happy, those around them happy, eventually the whole world happy. “Be The Change.” … But don’t change what you are.
July 2, 2013
February 13, 2013
Electric Fields
When the hue of earth takes on golden mother's birth, we shall live electric.
Grazin' lazin' sun gazin'... Fuckin' amazin'!
The tramp's eyes reveal society's lies to all who can see, all who don't wanna be, someone, something; be everything, we're all in every thing.
Electric fields of human energy yields our true calling, the sun will shine again, the power will dismantle itself undoing wealth to the few. Welcome people, open arms.
I believe some call this ghost writing, no thought should go into it just that of the immediate. Write it down, if it rhymes great, if it doesn't even better.
Grazin' lazin' sun gazin'... Fuckin' amazin'!
The tramp's eyes reveal society's lies to all who can see, all who don't wanna be, someone, something; be everything, we're all in every thing.
Electric fields of human energy yields our true calling, the sun will shine again, the power will dismantle itself undoing wealth to the few. Welcome people, open arms.
I believe some call this ghost writing, no thought should go into it just that of the immediate. Write it down, if it rhymes great, if it doesn't even better.
February 7, 2013
Mornings
The soreness to my eyes in the morning, never seems to not be there, unless, I wake past 10am.
This unexplainable fact does not bode well in a world which loves to start work between the hours of 8-9am.
The answer is to become fully self employed and make your own hours.
Hmmm, an odd variation to the unexplainable 'fact' just came to mind, they do not sting when I'm awake early for a holiday; the answer there in lies, I think.
A contributing factor to the soreness may be the fact I resist going to bed early, for I feel I'm missing out on the night; so what is to miss about the night rather than the morning? Complete and utter freedom I suppose? But is that freedom not there on a weekend morning? Yes, but it is there to get extra hours of sleep that have been missed in the week for the love of nighttime freedom.
Well then it now makes complete and perfect sense why my eyes aren't sore past 10. Change your working hours to ten, for a good few years, and they'll be sore until past midday.
Cruel, cruel world.
Are you a night owl or an early bird? (Genetic apparently)
This unexplainable fact does not bode well in a world which loves to start work between the hours of 8-9am.
The answer is to become fully self employed and make your own hours.
Hmmm, an odd variation to the unexplainable 'fact' just came to mind, they do not sting when I'm awake early for a holiday; the answer there in lies, I think.
A contributing factor to the soreness may be the fact I resist going to bed early, for I feel I'm missing out on the night; so what is to miss about the night rather than the morning? Complete and utter freedom I suppose? But is that freedom not there on a weekend morning? Yes, but it is there to get extra hours of sleep that have been missed in the week for the love of nighttime freedom.
Well then it now makes complete and perfect sense why my eyes aren't sore past 10. Change your working hours to ten, for a good few years, and they'll be sore until past midday.
Cruel, cruel world.
Are you a night owl or an early bird? (Genetic apparently)
February 6, 2013
Afghanistan
"The United Nations Charter, to which all the Coalition countries are signatories, provides that all UN member states must settle their international disputes peacefully and no member nation can use military force except in self-defence."
3,000 people died on 9/11, tens of thousands of civilians have been killed in Afghanistan in the 'defensive war' that followed.
*
Afghanistan will never be westernised; no amount of American movies, European literature or NATO money is going to change that fact. Take a town, they'll take it back eventually. They were born there, the Taliban were born there, the coalition forces were not. You can lead a horse to water but you will NEVER make it drink.
*
Pull out of all Middle Eastern countries, stop supporting any wars, uprisings or settlements in the middle east. Invest the money used in these countries to further science in renewable energies and not allowing radical Islam (or any other religion) to spread in or threaten the west, through intelligence and tighter laws. Make life better in our own countries, through better education and household incomes. Help refuges fleeing people like the Taliban to set up new homes, jobs and life's in the developed world. Help, through monetary aid, any country which wants to join the rest of the modernised world in peaceful prosperity.
*
Above all else promote compassion to all races, religions and cultures, for we are all the same no matter a poor Afghan farmer or City of London banker; we all want happiness, we were just born in different places and at different times.
We are not the world police, we need to just lead by example and others will eventually catch up in their own time at their own pace.
*
(If all else fails, move to a deserted island, bury your head in the sand and await an alien invasion)
*These stars are the point at which you read between the lines.
My first novel Poisoned Saints is out now,
Click this link to find out more
3,000 people died on 9/11, tens of thousands of civilians have been killed in Afghanistan in the 'defensive war' that followed.
*
Afghanistan will never be westernised; no amount of American movies, European literature or NATO money is going to change that fact. Take a town, they'll take it back eventually. They were born there, the Taliban were born there, the coalition forces were not. You can lead a horse to water but you will NEVER make it drink.
*
Pull out of all Middle Eastern countries, stop supporting any wars, uprisings or settlements in the middle east. Invest the money used in these countries to further science in renewable energies and not allowing radical Islam (or any other religion) to spread in or threaten the west, through intelligence and tighter laws. Make life better in our own countries, through better education and household incomes. Help refuges fleeing people like the Taliban to set up new homes, jobs and life's in the developed world. Help, through monetary aid, any country which wants to join the rest of the modernised world in peaceful prosperity.
*
Above all else promote compassion to all races, religions and cultures, for we are all the same no matter a poor Afghan farmer or City of London banker; we all want happiness, we were just born in different places and at different times.
We are not the world police, we need to just lead by example and others will eventually catch up in their own time at their own pace.
*
(If all else fails, move to a deserted island, bury your head in the sand and await an alien invasion)
*These stars are the point at which you read between the lines.
My first novel Poisoned Saints is out now,
Click this link to find out more
January 25, 2013
It's Snow Joke.
Yes, it looks pretty. Yes, you can build a snowman. Yes, you can throw snowballs... Yes, you can make it turn yellow.
But it's also a massive pain in the backside, sometimes literally; Slipping, sliding, skidding. Not to mention it being freezing, wet and freezing...
I for one hold the government fully responsible! In this day and age, where I can write a blog from my smart phone, whilst smoking an electronic cigarette, you're telling me they can't build a (Simpsons Movie style) dome to cover the country when it snows? It's absolutely disgraceful. We should be out on the streets, banners waving, underwear burning! Just think of all the tax we pay! Council, road, VAT, income! And they can't invest a few quid into a decent bloody dome!
Cameron it's time to step down! You incompetent tit.
But it's also a massive pain in the backside, sometimes literally; Slipping, sliding, skidding. Not to mention it being freezing, wet and freezing...
I for one hold the government fully responsible! In this day and age, where I can write a blog from my smart phone, whilst smoking an electronic cigarette, you're telling me they can't build a (Simpsons Movie style) dome to cover the country when it snows? It's absolutely disgraceful. We should be out on the streets, banners waving, underwear burning! Just think of all the tax we pay! Council, road, VAT, income! And they can't invest a few quid into a decent bloody dome!
Cameron it's time to step down! You incompetent tit.
It's Snow Joke.
Yes, it looks pretty. Yes, you can build a snowman. Yes, you can throw snowballs... Yes, you can make it turn yellow.
But it's also a massive pain in the backside, sometimes literally; Slipping, sliding, skidding. Not to mention it being freezing, wet and freezing...
I for one hold the government fully responsible! In this day and age, where I can write a blog from my smart phone, whilst smoking an electronic cigarette, you're telling me they can't build a (Simpsons Movie style) dome to cover the country when it snows? It's absolutely disgraceful. We should be out on the streets, banners waving, underwear burning! Just think of all the tax we pay! Council, road, VAT, income! And they can't invest a few quid into a decent bloody dome!
Cameron it's time to step down! You incompetent tit.
But it's also a massive pain in the backside, sometimes literally; Slipping, sliding, skidding. Not to mention it being freezing, wet and freezing...
I for one hold the government fully responsible! In this day and age, where I can write a blog from my smart phone, whilst smoking an electronic cigarette, you're telling me they can't build a (Simpsons Movie style) dome to cover the country when it snows? It's absolutely disgraceful. We should be out on the streets, banners waving, underwear burning! Just think of all the tax we pay! Council, road, VAT, income! And they can't invest a few quid into a decent bloody dome!
Cameron it's time to step down! You incompetent tit.
