|ZOD-KA SPEAKS OF IKKAH
(3127 total words in this text)
The abyss Self projecting from non-existence the procreatrix I, was the great change and the beginning: to extend the purpose of desire-for Time to make all existence inexact-those things kept ever vague.
Thus was the will to operate unbegotten.
One thing is nominally, everything alternatingly desirous. That which is first desired is permitted, then externalized and taken away by a circumlocution of beliefs becoming law.
No knowledge would seperate us from the virtues of non-existence but that for man-having become involved with disease, all his food is poisonous; his complete saturation is inevitable that he may become again healthy. Thus man wills by thought.
By the 'death posture' (A simulation of death by the utter negation of thought, i.e. the prevention of desire from belief and the functioning of all consciousness through the sexuality) [not for subjection of mind, body or longevity nor any thing as such] the Body is allowed to manifest spontaneously and is arbitrary and impervious to reaction. Only he who is unconscious of his actions has courage beyond good and evil: and is pure in this wisdom of sound sleep.
Will to pleasure is the basic function underlying all activity whether conscious or not,-and whatsoever the means.
Denial of this Self-love is disease-the cause of homicide; the sufferings of part-sexualities and small things germinating.
Knowledge of necessities is desirous:-Deliberation is but a sorry disatisfaction-a first cause of illusions, harnessing man to a mass of half-realized desires. Remember! O Ikkah, these present Ideas of consciousness obtaining in senses and bodies, are transitory-are destined for usage and other predeterminations-and unnecessary to wakefulness. Will is transition; the painful process of transmigration-the labour of birth of death. Volition to supersede a thing is inability to realize the living Self. For whatever is attained is but the re-awaking of an earlier experience of body.
Man should most desire a simultaneous consciousness of his separate entities. All consciousness of 'I' is a decline and vegetates good and evil afresh-the compulsion of limit and morality. From spontaneous nonexistence, germinate all significant ecstasy-that shall last in the uttermost impossibilities unconditioned to will.
Alas! what ornaments are grave-yards? The pleasure ground of self is contact with the living.
The fool hastens to man with a mouth overfull of new discoveries of power subservient to will! What matters it that we have realized a little more of I? Of beyond its limits of possibility?
Note well! All things are possible even in nightmares-becoming, they are a necessity, an additional boundary to memory-the further seperate entities of consciousness.
Remember O Ikkah! Thou shall not cease to be again what is denied-unto the end of conception: thus man has constructed his seed. These sentient creatures and the beyond conceptions in the order of evolution were thou once as they?
O Ikkah, Thou art this present God-this termite and many other things not yet domesticated or associated with thought.
This focus 'I' called consciousness is unaware of its entire living embodiments but alternates and epitomizes their personalities.
What is 'I' and the extent of its conscious habitation?
. . . A weak desire, a memory governed by ethics and ignorant of its own bodies. Therefore that which is indeliberate is the more vital and is will: discarded knowledge is the sexuality and becomes law.
Thus entity exists in many units simultaneously without consciousness of 'Ego' as one flesh. Verily, I say-the deliberations of many exist in living animations-their consciousness split among a multitude of creatures but knowing only the more important [?] incarnations-What greater misery than this?
Of others, their awake-consciousness is aware of more than one entity and obtain ecstasy by saturable desire.
O Ikkah! Jest viciously! Abandon this haunted mortuary in a blind turning-by significant courage.
The 'I' surfeit-swelled is the end of compassion-the indrawing of sex to Self-love. Fortunate is he who absorbs his female bodies-ever projecting-for he acquires the extent of his body.
Whatever is desired, predetermines its existence in endless ramifications miserably and evanescent: Self-love is the paradox of I.
Oh Ikkah Zod-ka! Thy fiction of finality has prevented sleep and created eternity. O, invent sound sleep by the utter ruin of cosmos!
For impalpably and anterior to consciousness-all things exist....
With sensibility and name, becoming its living simulation and thus it disappears-involving its consequent necessity.
Reason has become too sensible, thus desire has become legerdemain mixed with diablerie. The soul, proud and blighted . . . is a civil war of desire: thereof the necessity for medicine and anesthesia. Man has made this environment: the mind is now the belly of the sexuality. Thus I suggest to thee- Self-love and its own temptation to excess.
Verily, greater courage hath none than to satisfy the unexpected desire by Self-pleasure.
For this reason, that when the desire again reacts, to operate in the ego, the suffering shall be ecstatic. How do I know? Not by farcical dialogue with Self but through contact with its undulations . . . are we not ever standing on our own volcano?
What is beyond man-something more dishonest or a further beast?
One thing is desired, another is thought; and a different becomes.
Everything loved obtains an obscene disease. These dream postures are ominous prophecy of thyself to become-the obscure wish. O joy and woe! which is the higher morality-to love man while being man or to reincarnate as woman to fulfil desire? Death is that degeneration, an alternation of ego in consciousness [i.e., desire], its metamorphosis into separate entities for that purpose: serving its own. Man's living virtues are those unfamiliar with names. His absurd I is ever supralapsarian. Man has exhausted his courage by imaginations engendered from the damned: Never can he satisfy what follows these repressions.
Thou who tremblest all over! Thy soul shudders! Thou dost perish from the poison of yesterday's armour and righteousness! O incomprehensible synonymy! O thou who art neither the vigorous kiss of my twin sexes nor its writhings of hatred and black shame. Nothing is discovered of thee until I invented it: from the ceaseless resurrection of earlier deliberations. O thou syzygy of my I and Self! Thou becomest volatile to whatsoever is sensed. Art thou the hidden wish for madness and hysteric love? O thou "untamed" within, thou shall not lose virtue-for thee I will not domesticate while generating. O idiocy! where is that path where I may wander naked in frenzy, a trespasser against all things reasonable? O time! saith good and evil: 'Come, come! Ego, I come!'
. . . . . . .
Knowledge alone is transitory, the illusion subsequent to 'I desire all things.'
Eternal, without beginning is Self; without end am I; there is no other power and substance. The ever changing modifications and diversities we see are the results of forgetfulness, misinterpretated by nightmare senses. When the Self again desires, then I only and nothing else shall remain. Permitting all things, whatsoever is imagined comes out of it. Believe what you will, it has no compassion. The connotation Self-love is applicable to all things. To it, all things are equal. The destroyer of devotees; lover of all things unique.
Giving overflow to all who are indifferent to wanglers, who jest at doctrines . . . of emancipation in celibacy and vituperation. I declare this Self-pleasure alone is free of Theism; the disenthralment of God and the distractions of ego in the many entities of existence I show.
Ye who praise Truth thereby causing its necessity are compelled to live differently. Out of this afterthought of belief-thrives this somnambulating generation of unpleasured fools, liars and homicides-ever bewildered by good and evil. All has become inborn sex, so complex 'am I,' that a successful awakening is impossible without catastrophe. Birth is now painful, life a dire necessity and death an uncertainty-except of fearsome things. What further, O Ikkah, should a cesspool of truths contain? Nor truth, nor women, nor anything else once made objective shall satisfy. They who are committed to doctrines shall continue to move in this cycle of transmigrating belief: degenerating beyond limits they dare not face, and so allow conception to exist of itself from the imaginations 'I believe.'
What more disgusting? For I am all sex. What I am not is moral thought, simulating and separating. Imagined through forgetfulness, born asleep, whose very essence is vague, how can this world with such vapid antecedents, be anything but unthinkable! What man prohibits and then commits will certainly cause suffering, because he has willed double. Born of complex desire, results of actions are dual: multitudinous virtue and vice. Creation is causee through this formula of reaction and is a servile believing-all this universe has come out of it. When by that unprohibiting Self-love all this cosmos is certainly familiar and pleasured, it should be practised with labour.
But who is honest enough to believe this without relapse? Having renounced both good and evil conveniently, one should engage in spasmodic madness. Renouncing everything else take shelter in that Self-love, which incites the functions into the bold, 'freedom from necessity am I': virtue and vice shall cease. Self-illumination am I; the procreatrix of this universe. Indomitable in body: born of the bastard truth I made. When the eyes are shut the world certainly does not exist. O chaos! is there no greater joy than flagellation; the ecstatic paralysis that makes holocausts of withered souls; the hideously pitiable cripples-"I fear . . . "? I assert this Self-love to be a most secret ritual hidden by blasphemous Ideographs: and he who calls, pronouncing the word fearlessly, the entire creation of women shall rush into him.
What are lies-but mistimed events?
What is time but a variety of one thing?
What is all folly, but will?
What are all beliefs but the possibilities of I?
What is all future but resurrection?
What is all creation but thyself?
Why is all existence? Awake! Up! up, for thine own sake-
O sin, where is thy violence?
O love, where is thine incest?
O thought, where is thy courage?
O hope, where is thy faith?
O Self where is thy humility?
O truth, where is thy mispronunciation?
Verily, Self-love alone is complete!
THE SEXUALITY AND SLEEP OF AAOS
Aaos having realized at an early age that all systems of belief, religion and rituals; consisted alone in their original value to their creators; And were of the weary, to incarnate pleasure by hope, control by fear; and to Deify by morals; That cowards fear, and must needs promise pleasure of their sufferings; And they who had experienced "I," would have you destroy its body; and potential: Verily, Aaos realized that the origin of I, was for pleasurable procreation . . . but that things had been changed.
Aaos then pondered in his heart long over the geometry of the world of senses; and spake thus: "How far short has realization fallen from original conception? Have we not lived all things previous to the event? What is any desire but all desire? but men get married and nothing is sufficiently arbitrary.
I am the origin of all creation, certain it is that I want not salvation,
[observing all the miserably diseased mob:]
"O, grant that I may add to the world a far greater suffering!"
God is a precocious creation of the Apes, something that must be suppressed: Man must regain his sexuality.
What is man-this feeder on dead bodies of Self? . . . A mole, a carnivorous plant, a disease of himself, a conglomeration of-"it was" and a cause, effecting the miscarriage of his desires-ever creating his future necessities:
What man knoweth the perturbations of his own fear?
Verily, suffering is its own reward.
He who willed, knoweth not his own offspring.
Man projects a vague 'Self' and calls it truth and many other qualified names: Verily, once a Thing is named it becomes nothingness to its meaning.
All happiness is an illusion and a sorry snare. All righteousness is a dishonesty and all sin a pleasure. Assuredly, the courageous alone seem safe . . . without remorse.
Man invented Self-pleasure but knoweth not his own love.
Everything was once arbitrary. Yet they who spoke: their power has ended in common sexual practice-abnormal only with jaded appetites. They who knew were rightly crucified, scorned, ignored and their mouths sealed with their own excrement.
Have we not forgotten more than we shall ever learn?
Where is the magic to revitalize the mouldering words?
Everything is again eventually arbitrary!
What is there to believe that is free of belief? What is there to will that is safe from reaction?
Why is belief always incarnating? Though oft times not even a sincere wish? Who among men knoweth what he believes? Everything is true at some time.
What is this unpleasant Thing, necessity-suffering? How originated pain? What is necessity-but conditioned belief?
What is it we eternally desire and say, through disease?
Verily, directly a man speaketh-he suffers.
What is Self and I? And all these myriad forms called creation-all so essentially like me? Who can realize this Self-portraiture of all Things?
Verily, the sexuality has no limit in conception.
Whither I would go, there had I long been before.
Eternal re-occurence would seem necessary to greater multiplicity!
For what reason this loss of memory by these bewilding refractions of my original image,-that I once made-and out of which spring the sexes?
God is born again of desire, call it by whatever name: this unmanifested memory has no name till belief incarnates. Hence it may be called,-the re-occuring sub-division of 'I'. Everything becomes necessary.
Man is subject to his own law: All else is an obscene jest and a lie.
Thus reasoned Aaos in his youth and went to sleep alone.
After a vilely repulsive nightmare Aaos awoke saying:
"Quiescent are my depths, who could realize They contain such criminal abortions of the cosmos?"
What is all body but materialized desire? What are dreams but unsatisfied desires striving to foretell their possibility in despite of morals?
Life is but will, that has become organic after satiety; its further desires striving for Unity. Death is that further will incarnating in body.
The next day Aaos spoke unto his growing beard:
"Destroy O, my Self, these hallucinations of I am not by knowledge of pleasure."
Thou mighty ecstasy that willeth Thy pleasure in suffering!
Make my consciousness reality of thee in body!
What is Self but Cosmos? What is I but Chaos? Eternally creating its pleasure, everything could become arbitrary.
Whatever deceit we practice, the functions of the emotions are one; their expression dual: Time making multitudinous by denial.
What is experience, but denial? What is the centre, but belief?
After a long suspiration, Aaos spoke aloud to his 'I':
"Awake, my Self-love! Leave this hour of cow-dust, I am all things to pleasure. Too long have I lived the nightmares of others in my sleep . . . Arise! get forth and feed from the mighty udder of Life. Thou art not a cow-herd, nor grass, neither cows no kine! But once again, a creator of cows-who loves their breasts! Are not all things cows to thy pleasure-whether they would or not? And what is Cow? Is it not a fountain? Didst thou not create God, teach nature all secrets and crowd the spaces with cows of desire, unknown and manifesting? Didst thou not create and destroy Woman?"
Again Aaos spoke, but unto his lidless eye:
"Behold thou hoary, white headed, thou silent watcher of night and day: thou death-clutch on the smallnesses of Time! This neither-neither I, shall transvalue ennui, fear, and all diseases to my wish. Dead is my misery in suffering! How could it exist in my Zodiac, unwilled? I, who transcend ecstasy by ecstasy meditating Need not be in Self-love! Verily, this constant ecstasy I indraw from Self-creation. By castrating 'of,' my belief is balanced: my arbitrary automatism serving its diverse self-pleasure."
Then Aaos meditated and murmured: "All things exist by me: all men exist in me, yet who doth not turn away from his own superabundance while realizing? All desire is for unity: thus my vision seeth through mine ears. Let my unity be realized sufficiently, thus shall my sexuality be convenient unto itself and escape the conceivable . . . Where is lust when the tests wither? Verily these senses have a further pupose beyond their own: thus shall thou steal the fire from Heaven. All things return to their earliest functions."
At that moment Aaos realized he was not alone; and a voice asked:
"Hast thou no fear?"
Laughing aloud, Aaos answered:
"Hidden from thy small susceptibilities, monstrous enormities are commited! On the day my wind bloweth a little the cow-dust away-thou O fool, shalt vomit hot blood at thine own prostitution and incest. When thou knowest not, the lust wills non-rationally, the belief bindeth with modest Ideas; the body is subject and suffers. What man can prevent his belief from incarnating? Who is free of filth and disease? All men are servile to the great unconsciousness of thier purpose in desire. The I thinks, the Self doth. There is no salvation from desire, neither day nor night does it cease its lengthy procreation of cause and effect: penetrating all things inexplicably. Endless are its elements and nothing whatsoever escapes its embrace-but its own Self-love. . . . Should I fear my I?"
Aaos lowering his voice, uttered:
"What further use shall I give my sexuality? Verily it is alway speaking for me! This I, non-resisting to the Self, becomes irresistible."
When the voice had left Aaos went his way muttering and smiling:
"Can it be possible that dead wives resurrect?"
For he thought that-Woman was dead. With this reflection Aaoss became silent. Awaking from his Self-introspection he spake aloud to his body:
"Man is something that has resurrected from an archetype, a previous desire gone to worms. All conceptions predetermine their degeneration or supersedure by degrees of morality. Verily a new sexuality shall be mine,-unecessary to degenerate or surpass. To give it a name, I call it the Unmodified sexuality; without a name it shall be conscious of all desire: thus no ecstasy shall escape me. Its wisdom shall be dreams of Self-love vibrating all the manifestations-I am he, who self pleasures non-morally."
[ Back to The Focus of Life | Sections Index ]