PARADISE FAUST
ABSTRACT MODEL FOR PUBLISHER
Synopsis—
As Dante Alighieri struggles to replace art and religion with poetics, he relies
on no propaganda—no one will ever know why in his version of Purgatorio certain
people wound up there for no feasible reason. Paradise Faust’s irreplaceable
journey illuminates the idea that Dante works on a need to know basis, and at
the conclusion, the reason people wind up where people wind up in some author’s
strange vision of the ethereal plane of a confusing but funny afterlife—is
better left unsaid—or is it?
FOREWORD by JON WAGNER:
In the icy days of our wintery economy, Aaron Sheley, the up and coming author
extends his research into the Great Books of the Western World and the canon of
German Expressionistic Cinema (Merging the parts of Dante Alighieri’s masterwork
Purgatory, fragments of John Milton’s Paradise Lost and, of course, the German
Expressionist version of Goethe’s Faust—directed by F.W. Murnau.) While style,
form and content are achieved through his ideas—his key substance goes deeper
than meaning, due to a free play of signs and signifiers. While his novel
Paradise Faust is a maze of linguistic codes, I find it as a blessing of grace
that he wishes to sustain life on the Planet Earth for eternity by creating a
limbo so extraordinary, that people will live for the moment, rather than for
some absurd version of the afterlife that may or may not exist. I find his novel
to be a clear cut pathway to achieving immortality through writing that good and
evil has always shared. Interestingly enough, there is no hidden meaning, no
agenda, just an infinite passion of diction to topple over Quixotic resolutions
that are bringing are bringing our society to decay.
As Dante (historically and in this book) prefers to play tricks to his own
accord, albeit in a writerly fashion, in order to interject enlightenment to the
rough housing of the Middle Ages, Aaron steals ideas to find a way to sustain
life on Planet Earth, as the uncertainty of the afterlife has plagued religion
for generations. Indeed there is no way around the fun and games he establishes.
The final two parts the book, stir up emotions in a way that is different from
the first three parts; The final two parts of the book, stir up emotions in a
way that is different from three parts; The first three parts mainly establish
what an after-life could be (in a world without metaphysics) while the novel
changes in Part Four from the Grand Narrative to a simple version of the after-life, with Buddhist implications, and a use of initials that remain unknown--Aaron
extends desire beyond reality. And finally the Fifth Part is in Latin and
therefore the language itself is not dead, but rather undead in a sense,
whichever the reader prefers. While a few words conjugated in a Spanish style
(Dante’s preference being Italian), let the words flow over you, dear readers,
musically. The author’s intent is to save our world from its own corrupt
poverty, while giving us the freedom to err, which we all know is human.
--Jon Nelson Wagner Ph. D. University of Southern California—Media Theorist
(Professor of Writing—Critical Studies Graduate School at California Institute
of the Arts/Professor of Film Theories at University of Southern
California)—June 21st, 2009
PARADISE FAUST
An Underground Experimental Novel
Written By Aaron Sheley
Dedicated to Homer, Horace, Ovid and Lucan
Apology
While there really may be a Purgatory, and it is in imagination quite close to
that of Dante’s viewpoint on the matter, I am adding this writing as not to
revise the classic—only to provide merely a supplement. Furthermore, PART FOUR
may not genuflect to Purgatory in the way the rest of the story flows.
Nonetheless, it is imperative to recall THE SOUND AND THE FURY when
transitioning from tale to tale. As for PART FIVE, you really must sing along,
or you will miss all the fun.
“Trust in me and fall as well.”
--Tool
“You believe in the one God—that is creditable enough, but the demons have the
same belief, and they tremble with fear.”
--The New Testament
PART ONE
PARADISE FAUST
Dante awakens from a beautiful song of Latin and continues down the corridors,
which while they change in illusory ways, he is never quite sure if they are
moving to the left or right—or according to an invisible or visible law that
governs the nature of his surroundings. He notices certain cracks in a painting
filled with clouds and angels blowing trumpets. Below the clouds is a man in a
red tunic that holds a horn in his mouth. A combination of ephemeral beings
slope around the edges of sorrowful men locked in the towers. Dante recognizes
the sadness of a figure in the middle of the painting and a beam of sunlight
moves to reveal this image as not a deity or spirit but a saint clad in a robe,
without any hair except around the rims of his head.
Dante thinks to himself, “It was this icon in the tomb of Christ that allowed me
to remember that while my dreams and visions had placed my own life beneath the
lonely depths of eternity, the famines, plagues and holocausts were tyrannizing
the thoughts of the troubled peasants I had walked away from and fallen like a
drunkard into conformity—The saint’s image gave me comfort and was a reminder
that though I may be responsible for the very plagues unleashed on the world, he
would take them as a peace offering into the kingdom. The gifts of eternal
offering were given from his troubled heart, not as a sympathetic approach for
divination or symbol to regain consciousness. Instead, he was somehow going to
take care of his longings without worrying which method or rite was the most
complete absolution—While Heaven beyond reminded this saint his name in the book
of life, his position would be fulfilled if he worked on his own confusion.”
Virgil smashes through a wall and the cracks in the painting disappear.
Virgil explains to his pupil, “Perhaps the confusion in these spheres is only
ascertained in your poetry—yet do you not believe that the kingdom of God will
restore you without so much suffering?”
Dante replies, “My master, I have made us suffer—The plagues are upon us not
because we have done wrong but because we are going to die soon.”
Dante now alone for some reason, thinks aloud, “Another hallway, another chasm.
Twists and turns, no signs of life except the weak that would accept the ways of
virtue we instill in them. I do not believe that if they do not follow, they
will burn. For those perfected, fear not God, nor papacy, though I will go on up
or down—Pain will guide me when nothing is left—“
Dante rounds a turn in Christ’s lair of catacombs, and is not shaken by heresies
above or below, which hide their anguish in pictograms that rapidly change all
over the splinters of another painting. Orgies of King Solomon, featuring 3000
concubines and 5000 maidens all in an act of overwhelming transgressive
pleasure. Demons demolish each other in attempt to enter the vanishing picture.
Dante lingers in the tomb and ghosts evaporate, dematerializing, as well as the
painting. The walls begin to shrink and Dante notices his own hand beginning to
disassemble into piecemeal. Boils form on his arms and he sees a flash image of
Virgil like a red energy of satanic magic.
Dante thinks to himself, “Whether time did move backward, the plague was
consuming my master as it also befell on the soles of my feet—that did painfully
nail the bloods of the underworld, impatient in their traveling and longing of
another passageway.”
Dante removes a few coins from his jacket and tosses them through an appearing
cage—a disease that would consume the future Earth of the realm of maggots
(always devouring the corpses). Thus Dante feels a bit uneasy about his
diminishing state and is under pressure. He still does not fear the earthquake
at present. His overwhelming and troubling thoughts of the breaking apart of the
kingdom of Divine Passages, guarantees his safety, while he feels assurance of
demise. A ledge on a wall of the tomb is without a scratch or marking and he
sits down on the stone and again relieves his partial fears with an assured
prayer to God.
Dante prays, “God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit—Though I will
stumble, I will not fall, for the Lord is with me. Amen.”
Now Virgil appears in a snake-like vampire form about to grab Dante by the neck.
However, he realizes that a Chinese astrological clock on the wall contains
patterns of what are like atoms splitting.
Virgil slithers and questions, “Isn’t it interesting how somehow time moves
backwards when we meet up?”
Dante answers, “I know of your ways. Did you not know that in ancient texts
properties like water and earth harmonize in a vertical line, while fire and
lightning emerge along a horizontal path?”
Virgil takes a breath of air and says, “Yes, well don’t you think if you moved
along from that path altogether and strayed from a constant curve on like a
grid, then you would perceive the anachronistic?”
Dante is lost in thought, “I scurried along the way from the viper and the pages
of a book marked with a pentagram began to block my path!”
A large book, barely visible, disappears into a puff of smoke. A stream of
flowing water slides down a staircase, descending. Dante picks up a staff and it
immediately becomes a sword in his hands. He dangles the blade into the light of
a candle and prisms reflect through the crystalline. From around the side of the
wall, the hiss of an insidious serpent reveals another strange monster (with
tentacles, no less.) It lunges for Dante and hisses at him.
He thrusts his blade toward the figure. But the dragon creature is already
entering straight into Dante’s heart, testing him for fear. Dante reacts by
reaching into his pouch, removing a scroll, and reading to himself.
Dante’s voice echoes as he reads, “The ram from Colchis named Jason from the
Isle is power to avenge the wrongs of antiquity. Remain hidden, I will take care
of your problems.”
Dante continues to speak to thin air, “Worry not, for if anyone had anything to
do with the powers above, literally watching out while we visited the Old Mage,
then the shaman will warn us of shortcomings, perhaps as a method to incite the
recess of humanity’s end.”
The world above this cavern shrieks with terror and Dante feels pressure on his
chest, not knowing whether he can take a deep breath.
A voice from around the chamber whispers into Dante’s ear from behind.
Here is an example of what the voice says:
“The object of continuing is not even structuring itself in coherence. Will
Europe suffer for any reason?”
Dante is now at a castle wall, which opens up upon a side view of a beach with
waves beating the shore.
A floating spirit drifts through the wind and passes by Dante, giving off
recognition of an earlier time in life when both were on their way in the other
direction. The ghost delivers a knapsack of tobacco in exchange for Dante’s two
pieces of silver.
The ghost vanishes.
Dante talks to himself, “Feeling relieved that it had nothing to do with a
nervousness within, but rather a distant hope that the distance ahead would
require confidence, stamina and endurance.”
Dante flips over his head, while adjusting his cloak. Then he climbs a rope
until he is at a ledge with an opening in the tower’s wall. Four young goddess
maidens are draped in fine linens of blue and red cloth. The twisting and
turning on a large bed in the middle of the room, beckons the thinker forward,
as the women wave their fingers seductive. In fact, the women pull Dante forward
and by his arms he is dragged into their oracular pile of bodies, all glazing
with dripping sweat. They drip ointments and spread them on each other while
removing their garments and unbuttoning Dante’s belt. The four goddesses emerge
into one in the image of Aphrodite, shaped with perfect curves on a thin body,
hair piling over her breasts. She rubs against Dante and he puts his head below
her knees to give her oral sex. She slowly develops into a lustful rage of
ecstatic orgasm and passes out on Dante. The goddess transports off in a beam
from the sky.
Dante shrugs his shoulders and looks at his breath in the wind. He feels
troubled and ashamed at the sexual event that took place, but also sighs in
relief when he realizes how it came together.
A virgin in a white dress enters the room and says, “It is yours.” Enveloping
her is a mysterious ambience, which glows from her entity. The light beam takes
her back to the center.
Dante thinks, “I knew if the crusaders began to go war above ground, years
before the plague hit, they would involve themselves in a transformation of
presence. However, the underworld of spirits lost, enacted crimes alike, upon
the twisted minds of the haunted Inquisition.”
Dante releases his feelings of fear, discovering a map unscrolling across a wall
of hanging victims of peasants , as well as a witch burning in a fire, waving
her arms about as the flames devour her flesh and rip into her muscular
tissue…charring through into her skeleton. Her eyes were a steady gaze fixing on
the window of this chamber. And an angry face appears in the blood red moon.
Dante speaks to the witch in the scroll, “Will I ever see you again?”
The voice of a shrill pitched sufferer deepens into a harsh, breathy
abomination, inciting another earthquake below. Maggots crawl on her corpse as
the fire is smoldering out.
She exclaims, “HAVE YOU NOT OBSERVED THE DECEPTION OF WHICH YOU HAVE PARTAKEN?”
Dante examines the witch and replies, “Of your oblivion is your own affair.
Partake of judgment and the flames will awaken you from meditation!”
The witch does not take this lightly in her screaming tone of voice that
exclaims, “DO NOT ANSWER ME IN RIDDLES OF DESPAIR!”
Dante calmly explains himself, “There will be a witch more powerful than you.
Her name, Jezebel, and she will be thrown from rocks by a pack of savage
wolf-hounds. Because you suffer, ten Satan worshippers of the blood-drinking
coven will be given back into their ancestry.”
Flames go out, changing into wispy rats, which flutter down the stake, eating a
small remainder of the witch, who returns to the atmosphere as dust particles,
all disappearing in a howling scream.
One of many forms of an evil presence assimilates…it is Diablo!
Diablo snarls, “How do we know each other, Dante?”
Dante, worrying a bit, explains, “You could just be an image of a bad dream that
was brought on by unconscious illusions during the movements of your childhood
origins. For this reason, you are deceived by your own useless thoughts.”
Diablo is all the more furious in reply, “I will lead the people to burn all the
books ever written!”
Dante returns in mumbling chatter, “Well, let’s just hope a few people know how
to memorize exact texts of actual written words to recite them orally. Better
than your useless fear tactics.”
Dante motions closer to the red hot eyes within other eyes, continuing his
confusing speech, “Because of eagerness to uncover what is already written will
lead to your assassin. As if you had any connections with that. Because you have
not seen, you have been made blind to truth and because you cannot hear, you
have been made deaf.”
Diablo laughs and continues his own sermon, “There are versions where nothing
good comes of this. It ends here. The grail is captured by the heretics of
levitation, and all is vanquished as the holy cup is filled with urination and
given back to the mother of Christ!”
Dante tries sarcasm, “ There are at least two versions to every story. I’m sure
yours is the right one.”
Diablo growls, “Pegasus is not going to swoop down and save you…but the flying
horse may fuck you in the ass!”
Dante speaks quietly, “You finally end, people go on…”
Diablo snorts, “Promise me an eternity of pain by publishing this.”
Dante is finally so afraid that he prays while addressing the diabolical,
inexplicable Diablo, “I call to the Father, Son, and Hoy Spirit that you never
return. You must have a memory programmed as early as the rest of us—lest not
forget—Babylon’s electricity formed you. Who plugged you in on that space opera?
Are you in every hex and spell? Do you not know that there are entities far
worse in human, god and demonic fabric? Of course, the fabric of your origin,
intensifies the ultimate nature of your suicidal whims.”
The ground begins to shake and strange rumblings of an imperfect harmony fills a
room, in which an idol with the half-head of Buddha and half-head of Shiva, with
glowing eyes, stares at Dante in the face.
Dante speaks to the idol, “Because you exist, your people will suffer. Upon
childbirth they will receive intoxication from vials of impure goat’s blood.
They will be driven mad by these drippings of urine onto the pentagrams of your
bride’s pillow.”
The idol, without moving, answers this, “How dare you, in your own thoughts,
accuse me of the destruction of time itself!”
Dante scratches his head, and without much logic, is in speech again, “I’m sure
these signs have been crossed before. But are you willing to rip open your chest
and feed it to a carcass of mutilated flesh? Setting it ablaze, would you then
consume the blood of your own first born, mingling it with the bloods of the
beastly sacrilege on an altar that never forgives?”
The idol is in confusion, but answers, “Turn on your mind so you may see the
nature of our otherness, which will propel you away from unholiness and
defamation of the cross, eliminating servitude under dominion of mind slavery.”
The walls in the background fade away and behind them an altar appears in the
sky where fleshy clouds shape like an upside down star. Horns of a goat shape
into the star, ripping a hole through the flesh-like nature of the cloud.
Dante rambles, “In any appearance you must abominate yourself throughout
histories pages. Never will anyone see that you are carefully engraving every
bit of your being in each waking second of moments of history.”
The cloudy goat appears dumfounded.
Dante continues, “If you can use this information to deceive people into
thinking one side is a holy quest for a cup and the other is to instigate the
apocalypse of a race of people, then the Messiah would be the last being you
would have to kill.”
In the clouds is a very attractive man-demon hybrid, Lucifer, who rises in the
sky.
Lucifer is weirder in speech than Diablo, “Why do you see the women you rape,
the children you beat and the spears through their souls?”
Dante gives no answer and Lucifer exits the sky. Just then, Dante turns to
examine a vision of a hand on a wall, writing steadily.
The hand writes, “The exaltation of nations boasts your eternal glory to the
kingdom of God forever. You are invited to the highest altar in which you shall
take your seat as the highest angel on a throne of the Queen of Heaven, reigning
over all creatures.”
Dante is, as per usual, in thought, “There you shall divide up your shares of
power into the twelve ruling empires of the world. These nations shall be
drained of their valuables by the low percentage in power in increasing amounts,
until nothing is left but the four, then three…”
Virgil wakes up from his coma and explains angrily, “You have once again made
yourself too revealing to the mirror—it speaks to you when you speak to it and
you will feel pin pricks on your penis when you discover the secrets of the
mirror. Will you allow yourself to be rendered impotent from lustful
activities?”
Diablo, from a nearby room, cannot help but to join in at this point. So he
enters and growls, “Heaven moved me and with that I come for what we have
tricked you into: Losing your entire sight of Christ. BLASHPEME THE HOLY
SPIRIT’S NAME HERE!”
As the events are unfolding, the hand on the wall etches writing in blood before
Dante’s eyes.
The hand writes, “There are all peoples of outside order here in descending
desire of origin. When they fuck you in the night, succumb to them.”
A horde of demons squawk in their own two cents, “Thank you for giving us full
access to all domains. I saw your irremovable seal long ago cheater. Ooh! Don’t
make me so obvious.”
Dante laughs at the overwhelming nature of this onslaught and jokes accordingly,
“I just hope you all aren’t as unfashionably late as I am.”
The apparitions evaporate for a time and Dante, alone at last, jots down his
thoughts that continue to echo around in his head:
“Our father in heaven, not because circumcised, but out of the greater love you
have for your creation on high, praise be your name and worthiness from every
creature, as it is appropriate to render thanks to your sweet charity. Thy
kingdom come and the peace of thy kingdom, because we cannot attain it of
ourselves, for all of our ingenuity. As of their own freewill, your angels make
sacrifice to you, singing Hallelujah, so may men also of their freewill. Give us
this day our daily manna, without which, through the roughness of this desert,
he who tries hardest to advance, goes backward. And as we forgive everyone the
evil that we have suffered, may you pardon us graciously, without regard to our
self-serving merits. Do not put our virtue to the test with the old adversary,
as it is not easily overcome. This prayer we no longer pray for ourselves, but
for those in need. This prayer, dear Lord, we no longer pray for ourselves, but
for those in need.”
Then, for good measure, Dante prays, “I pray for safe passage and if there is a
dark victory, this too will be up to your judgment. Thank you, Son of Man.”
A precipice vomits the demonic opium, inducing psychotic visions to cover up the
apocalyptic plague of vapors from raining sewage, which are a stain on the
streets above.
Dante realizes that he has been rounding so many doors that lead to dead ends
and detours of his quest that are without virtue. He does remember that in his
parchment is a map. As he undoes the rope from another scroll, he glances at a
territory in which a monk ties ropes around Jesus, dragging his corpse away.
Thus, using a weight and measure scale he finds in his gunny sack, Dante traces
a line with a geometrical compass through the heart of Christ. Constellations
appear near the compass arc, in the topmost region of this most peculiar map.
After sketching a diagram in his journal, he continues onward.
Dante leans against a wall from exhaustion and a rotating wheel next to him
turns its locks slightly to the right. A young brunette girl in a blue tunic
with a belt enters the room.
The child speaks, “If inequity and inequality burden you in this endless
tower-like tomb, do not be afraid, as I will remember your trials lest you
forget the wildness of man’s lust for knowledge, while the only requirement for
you is that you ascertain the fear of God. Many trials yet remain and of the
deception of the burial of the Son of Man—we’ll see to it that the angels will
place ointments on his shroud. Circuitous pathways are equal in deception: left
is straight and right will lead you in circles. If the road is steep, how do you
not know if you are descending? Because of Adam’s temptation of the serpent’s
order, his garments will he wear in toil. Therefore hurry through this
serpentine maze, for there is no center.”
Dante is about to speak in reply yet is muddled by other confusing thoughts from
the previous night’s encounter. He coughs and feels his head, dizzy from the
overwhelming spiritual presence of his Lord and Master.
Dante thinks to himself, narrating his predicament, “At this moment there is no
assurance whether Satan is God or Heaven is Hell. The concepts rearrange
themselves so often in the various parchments of antiquity that such hard claims
either way are impossible to prove. In order for paradise to be complete, the
Son of Man endures torture. Upon any thoughts of revoking the Holy Spirit—the
demons in the tomb are only more deceived by claiming a totalitarian existence
with authorial rights. In these days above us, impotence and false wars—like the
threat of death which I first had on Good Friday, all still stabs me like a
spear in my side. For when he held his hands to me, I felt the holes of the
piercings and that is why I am now locked up.”
Continuing with his gear, treading down the halls, Dante observes quietness and
emptiness—no voices or talismans of distraction. The merciless path through and
around the tunnels of the ever changing mountainous underground, leads Dante to
fear that during his quiet progression he is a long way from the end.
In the meantime, Virgil catches up and puts his arm around Dante, patting him on
the back.
Virgil speaks out, “Fear not that rabble of yesteryear, nor false trials of an
oracles advent…remember: narrow is the gate and there are few who enter. I have
made the image of math, arts and sciences of the ancients profane to you in your
mind so that you may complete this quest without burden of future, infinite
possible worlds…No theories will be of cosmic origin, nor the things you ever
want or believe to want will be on record.
Virgil hears a disturbance down the hall and walks off to see what it is. Just
ahead is a dying man in the corridor suffering from the plague. The man is
hardly breathing under his wraps of torn garments. He is beaten and lying in the
tomb. Dante crouches and observes the victim, popping a cork off of a vial of
wine and holding the man’s head up to deliver him a few drops. Dante feeds the
sufferer a tablet of unleavened bread and the man’s body writhes and then
vanishes from the tomb. Dante crosses himself and continues onward feeling that
the center is not far off.
Dante sighs, “What a relief.”
A gentleman in a sage’s robe awaits Dante at the end of the hall, smiling at
him.
The gentleman speaks, “Hello my troubled stranger.”
Dante returns the greeting, “Hello fine sir—I see that you are without many
imperfections.”
In a low voice, the gentleman explains, “Sins in my mind create sins in the
world and I am not responsible for these fantasies, son—For ice will break when
you tread on it and kingdoms will rise and fall—Many disguised men with signs of
the devil will come in my name—Be not deceived, for this is envy of a construct
that we are now involved in. It is a mere object lesson. If you have thought
there to be any truth in the deceivers, allow only those haunted by the lies to
believe them to the fullest.”
Dante wonders aloud, “This is for me to allow?”
The gentleman answers, “Well, my friend, there is an enlightenment that they are
not ready for.”
Dante is blessed by an actual representation of this kind mentor and bows to the
man, who then smiles.
The gentleman continues, “I am not asking for your submission, for the few of us
are already in submission—continue on this trek and be slow to forgive those
that have concealed our words.”
Dante nods and passes on down the hall. He looks into a chamber at a young boy
quietly reading his textbooks while lights from the outer world fade around. The
boy prays in whispers that he is troubled by much of what he has been hearing
and worries for the safety of his father.
Dante watches the boy that places a turban over his head and relaxes in the
cell. The boy is comforted by a presence only he can hear.
Dante smiles and continues down the hallway. He arrives in a room to the south
of the room he was in prior, not quite sure how the directions of his internal
voices and visions lead him. In the room, a wooden desk sits alone. Dante
approaches the desk and it is just an ordinary piece of wood. Curious as to its
contents inside, he touches the handle to open it and it is locked. Dante
rummages through his pockets to find a key—slightly worrying that he may have
lost it. He tries to open the desk again and it still will not open. He becomes
frustrated.
Dante prays, “Please God, I want to see its contents—Why won’t you let me? Why
can’t I see it? Please unlock this for me God, please. I DON’T WANT TO DIE
HERE!”
Upon receiving no answer, he slams his hand on the desk and continues to the
next room.
In the room there is a square mirror that reflects only Dante’s image. He looks
at himself and while he cannot comprehend the image of his own material physical
existence in this state, he observes. His guilt and fears trouble him but he
feels a stillness of the presence of being. He takes a deep breath realizing the
illusions before and after this point were never of any concern. The presence of
his soul and the faith he lives are reaffirmed as he gently rubs a crucifix on a
chain around his neck. He tucks it under his shirt and takes another deep
breath. After noticing a small font of purified water, he dips his handkerchief
into it and gently touches the cloth to his forehead, wiping his brow. He puts
both hands in the water and splashes his eyes, wiping his face off. He turns and
paces down the hallway.
While he is treading along, he thinks, “That spirit who waits to repent, right
to the end of his days, will most likely remain below the surface and will not
ascend. Unless good prayers come to his assistance, and until he has spent as
much time in the dark place as he lived in the light, will he see the day again?
But will actions make him free of confines?”
Out of nowhere, an image of the Greek deity, Zeus, bellows hauntingly, “Because
you have thirsted for blood, I will fill you with blood! My people were put to
flight, after the death of the centaur. Following the tunes of Pan into the
lusts of bad intentions, Socrates—a persecutor of the pagans that have now
become common witches and warlocks—was given the vial of Hemlock. All this for
questioning the nature of reality, which you’ll see in the future to be a
massive influence on philosophy. Warning! Do not believe in mysticism over
reason, wanderer.”
Dante is envisioning the shores of Troy for a time, and then, without anything
initiating the sudden presence, three demons flutter around a beat up wooden
idol.
One of the demons causes Zeus to leave through an enigmatic story:
“Offerings to a lost soul in exchange for eternal torture in the next life—we
gave the fool a bride of the finest beauty. When delivering the woman, we offer
him an empire, for access to the Heavens again. The demon god that guides us
will lie havoc through the winds of Eros’ death. Thereby we demons will develop
Satan’s wrath over all empires as they rebuke their positions as defenders of
the kingdom. Like a war of the original temptation, occurring as ships travel in
the sky to what remains of your castle in the sacred realms where you were
slain. After plundering the temple and raping the virgins, we arrive to face the
Lord in our ancient Babylonian constructs that pose as his greatest threat. As
the remains of the cities collapsed after the crucifixion, it was Zeus
acceptance of this gift of a foreign idol that caused demise. Long live Baal,
the subsumer, keeper of the poles of Asura upon the mount of the Golden Calf
where the overlords craft a plot to sacrifice children. Oh Sun God of horns and
bloody teeth, pour riches and fertility into our vessels. The demons of the West
and East will have a showdown in the forms of all the people that are possessed.
It is this final war that does distract Zeus from his oracle, while we plot to
put an end to the future history of mankind. There are very few of the ancients
that accept true belief in the supposed messiah, and after his murder, the
believer’s find their kingdoms plundered by the madness of false beliefs.”
Dante finds the story interesting, remembering that the entities which are given
over to evil, could be the very same that had killed logic and reason by
poisoning Socrates cup. Dante read somewhere that the abomination of the blood
of Baal began with a promise from the children of Babylon to repay money to the
king and queen for stealing their wives and children.
In successive delusions, the followers of the Antichrists still think their
hypnotists approach Satan’s altar to revitalize the old belief so their master
can steal everything for himself. Then writers were lead to a belief that an
explosion of the cosmos formed layers of mass and dust particles that enter at
the origin of time and form underwater atoms splitting into new atoms, crawling
onto land, growing legs on their own to form walking serpents that premeditative
impulses do they send to respond with a strange force of false deities, which
would obliterate the true God of the Hebrews, which were all at play in an
infinite universe. Dante thinks of this as a generality of creation, as valid as
it may be, but knows of a man that will be born in the last days, leading many
to controlled logic and reason that is not going to play into the lies of the
tempter. Would all nature worshipers become possessed by graven images? No,
thinks Dante, hardly. Or? Either/or! Dante visualizes a possible world where the
serpents and writhing goddesses of the oracle are spawning to continually
falsify texts, which would eventually deny a teleological understanding of the
phenomenology of splitting cells. Although he is not quite sure what all of this
means!
Dante’s loose train of thought shifts to the plot to overthrow Moses via Hades,
which sought to stop him at birth. Isis, Osiris, Horus, in their anthropomorphic
images subconsciously manipulate Pharaoh’s challenge to the divine nature, which
is of equality, not slavery.
Dante speaks to the demons, which could have very well been influencing his
vulnerable thoughts, “I’m sure there are more wicked things than you that have
turned away the believers of Pythagoras’ reincarnation. What is relevant now is
to continue this catechism in Christ’s tomb. For he is the way, the truth and
the life. No man shall come to the father except through him.”
The demons laugh and dance off into the night.
Dante continues up a long shaft to watch the demons penetrate a nearby planet,
seducing its inhabitants to a promise of purity and perfection. It reminds him
of when Eve was formed from Adam (the first human). Although there is a
forbidden tree of knowledge, there is a tree of life which all will partake in
the next step of true evolution, according to Dante’s current wave of thought.
Dante hears a whisper from his Lord, which says to him, “Be still and know that
I am God.”
Dante is now rounding the edge of the mountain and the Sun’s course has been
spinning to distort the traveler’s preoccupied mind. When he feels cloudy by all
the books that have yet to be written, he notices an angel illustrating an
object of desire in the temple of Babylon—an apparatus of a white light
projecting false realities. Beguilement sets in to confuse past and future
generations into finding the relative truths.
Dante thinks while his thoughts become words of prayer, “I can’t help but to
laugh at that, which I am unafraid of, though remembering the sacramental wine
from earlier, helps to redeem the witches that will want to journey to Paradise
with me! Of course, I am well accustomed to the admonitions of mind control that
works through materialistic allures. And then I begin to see again that vision
of a false deity, dressed in white, wearing an upside down cross and some kind
of symbols of Zoroastrian lore, all shrouded in a bright light. He spreads his
wings exclaiming, ‘Come: the steps are close by here and now you will find it
gets easier from here to climb.’ I know that this is a golden opportunity.
Perhaps I too will earn wings if I do what you say.”
The angel of light leads Dante to a ledge where there is a great canyon and an
apparition of a snow-globe behind it, containing the treasures of Babylon.
Goddesses begin to chant, “The truth of true spirituality is to be
pristine—Cleanliness is Godliness.”
Dante thinks to himself, “I notice the coldness of my hands and think, well, if
I hadn’t have had that wine, my body temperature might not have dropped.”
Now, of all things, the Antichrist arrives and seductively whispers, “If I can’t
get to you through your fears or inventions or mythologies than I will play a
memory game with you—Do you remember what the Son of God said to me when I
tempted him?”
Dante hiccups and thinks aloud, “Well, when you told him he could have the
kingdoms and riches of the world, he said to serve only the Lord. When you told
him that the stones around him would feed him, he said that the word of the Lord
is everlasting nourishment. And when you told him to take a leap from a cliff,
quoting him from his own scripture that the angels would catch him, he quoted
his own scripture: ‘Thou shalt not put the Lord thy God to a test.’
The Antichrist snickers, “Yes, Dante, but you are not worthy of the Lord’s true
tests are you?”
As the Antichrist leaves, Dante’s thoughts are as follows:
“I suppose I’ll just head up to the next level of metamorphosis. I’ll do what
people do when they walk in the presence of the kingdom, which is to keep strong
faith. I do feel dizzy from that encounter, yet for once, I must be doing
something right.”
A few moments later, Dante rejoins Virgil to walk up the next few steps of the
tower. The steps lead to a brick wall that immediately vanishes and becomes a
desert.
Dante’s thoughts narrate the sight before him, “In the midst of the desert, I
see an image of myself, in confusion and suffering exhaustion. My fear of the
lack of romance in my life enters intensification here, due to all my lost dear
ones—but even prayer and scripture does not restore the love. I am unable to
marry in this state, and cannot even entertain carnal lust except in visions.
Alone on the ground, holding a bottle of deadly poison—taking a few swallows to
bring about suicide—I remember what troubles me most: I left her after degrading
her father (not to mention her heavenly Father), shouting at him over the lusts
that will consume me until I die for real. I think what saves my life here, is
that Virgil is watching the vision, waiting to intervene.”
Virgil is angry in speech, “Why would you give up my poetry and offerings of
maidens, over some fat, ugly wench? Especially when you could have partaken of
the blood of the Antichrist!”
Dante answers timidly, “It’s hard to say, you see, the lusts of imagination
always tend to derail me. Also, Virgil, I must admit that hypnosis is strong
with you. However, as sorrowful as it is that I may have almost thrown myself
from a ledge—prevented by my fear of heights—it is even more sorrowful that I
actually drank poison. It just had to happen.”
Virgil is wicked in demeanor as he chants, “Oh Satan, I merge into your
form—Oracle be praised—to show this traveler that it is your power that leads
him to and from suicide!”
Dante hears and says, “Interesting Virgil, however, I have only ever felt the
presence of the poetics in you. I was knocking at death’s door. I thank God I’m
alive. Can you take credit for material you don’t know about?”
Virgil answers, “You got me there.”
As the vision comes to a close, a demon scoots across the desert shrieking, “THE
VENOM WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU!”
Dante takes Virgil aside and whispers, “Virgil, do you really believe this is
happening? Aren’t you a rationalist? Your book is not just a poetic tome from
the mystic’s oracle; it is, in contrast, a warning that if you select a mystery
beyond the tangible, you’ll invent your own predestination through fear.
Besides, only the objectivity of our destiny can be determined by the outcome. I
may fantasize about some idealist utopia or even a frightening cataclysm, but
this only means that I have not placed value in the object lessons of truth
seekers.”
At that moment, Virgil exits levitating sideways, while a particularly scary
demonic image of a red and black devil (with a noticeable missing tooth) stares
Dante in the face.
The demon proceeds with his wicked diatribe, “I am the Whore of Babylon—I am the
true love of your life—I am an altered perspective—You left your lover because
you could never give up the feeling of the next drunken binge; or the next
graven image; or the next hunk of meat that came your way! So don’t fuck with
me—You already bowed to your opposing Gods and if you think you can just
apologize to the fucking Messiah to get out of this, well, you can’t—Once you’re
hooked, you’re always hooked.”
Dante, glancing at Virgil for reassurance, responds, “The Messiah will never ask
me to give up drunkenness, I tell you. Just because I have fantasies about
finding love again or even being something I can’t be, means I actually think
that my mind alone will achieve satisfaction, at any rate. Why even tempt me
with things on my mind, when you can’t possibly know that you have to die of
yourself to love—though I have selfishness within. I love truth. I love the
lost. But to die of oneself does not mean suicide or blood pacts or dogma or an
ancient rite of passage. It just means to give up the distractions in your life,
focus on your friends and family—accept the illusion! Look, I realize there are
powers in this realm I’ll never understand. Money, fame and power are all very
enticing, right Virgil? But the fourth horseman in the equation is absolute
corruption.”
Virgil’s head contorts and he cries out untranslatable poetry to send the
demonic spirits back into the Inferno.
A friend of Virgil and Dante descends from behind a cavern wall. She is
Beatrice: a beautiful woman the travelers met longs ago. She prays, “Mary, pray
for us! Michael and Peter and all the saints. Lord hear our prayer!”
Dante, wanting to be alone, returns to a place in the ever-changing maze of
limbo that he recognizes.
Dante hears his own thoughts again, “It seems like we are all beggars, dying
outside of a mansion, waiting for a small crumb of food, and kept outdoors by
the gatekeeper.”
Virgil summons Dante back into the unending vortex, a place that never remains
the same place as it was before, hence the constant setting changes. Virgil and
Dante walk on the side of a precipice where they are both in fear of a long drop
to the bottom. Again among them, Beatrice quietly floats around with her color
changing gown, kisses Dante’s head and whispers, “Did you know that you can
speak to any being in the universe at any time!”
After Beatrice floats away, Dante and Virgil quickly converse.
Virgil starts, “Who has brought you of all people this far along—I know you of
all people will never come back once your free.”
Dante says, “Virgil, you are everything to me.”
A presence comes over Dante of confusion and fear, knowing there are greater and
worse things ahead. But he also realizes that his throat is sore from all of his
tobacco use, a little known fact about the peripatetic man in question.
Dante says the only thing that comes to mind (absurd as it is), “I’m glad there
will be rest in Paradise—my mortal feet can barely take this journey. In fact, I
think I have a nail in my left foot, or something.”
Virgil responds, “Well, I must say that if you really think God still loves you
after watching suffering in hell for eternity, than I suppose it is time to make
the ascension up the ladder to the end of this charade.”
PART TWO
CIRCLE OF DEATH
Dante and Virgil continue their trek in the serpentine lair of limbo. What sways
them to venture on is to figure out what separates them from the dire
revolutions and crisis in the forbidden realms above. Apparently the fog has
lifted from the dungeon and Virgil engages in further pronouncement of an odd
sort.
Virgil speaks, “I have made a discovery that might unsettle you quite a bit. You
see, the Papacy you so cherish, is currently involved in scandalous child
molestation and this will truly be the licentiousness that tears away the Son of
Man from your precious treasure vault.”
Dante mutters back at him, “This does trouble me a bit Virgil, for I am in
alliance with the very ministry that is full of hypocrisy, lies, and decimation
of unity, in order to bring about the reign of the Whore of Babylon—or the
Catholic church, as you may know it.”
Virgil recoils but catches on to Dante’s sarcasm. In reply to this he makes the
statement, “You are missing the idea—While your precious communion is tainted
with the vile blood of Passover’s unholiness, the plague continues to spread
without prejudice.”
Dante is nearly catatonic, but still able to say, “Well, I have not forgiven
myself of any heresy that the damned ghosts accuse me of to maintain my
excommunication.”
Virgil grows angry, “Then why don’t you just pull my pants down and suck my
cock—as all of your baptisms are condemning you, while the saved lust for wealth
and leisure.”
Dante feels a pain in his gut, yet still tries his ironic approach in speech,
“If I was a queer at birth perhaps, I would suck you dry. However, Virgil, don’t
forget, a deeper form of poetry lies outside of our drive for art forms
individual to our specific goals.”
Virgil spits while raving, “Well, what happens when you burn the unholy cross
and the saints smolder for your confessions?”
Dante feels a tiny bit more confident and answers, “Because, my Lord, only you
can acquit me for my sins of necrophilia and debauchery. You know as well as I
that whatever heresy you partake in, you follow to the grave.”
Virgil removes a lumpy piece of curled up gnarled flesh, pumping with blood
vessels in disfigurement. The bloating object sprays seminal fluids and shrieks.
Dante touches the monstrosity and with his middle finger, spreads the semen
across Virgil’s forehead. Virgil shudders and replaces the pumping flesh into
his cloak. He then drifts down a hall.
In the next room, a dragon consumes a small boy that bleeds all over his
clothing.
The dragon is aware of Dante and preempts the discussion saying, “You cannot
convince me that you’ll ever leave this domain.”
Dante replies while getting sensations of needles poking his arms, “I am not
trying to convince you of anything. You are not making this easy.”
The dragon scoffs, “Obviously you don’t love yourself.”
Dante nervously says, “Only God has that kind of love.”
The dragon’s eyes are now red, as it talks, “He’s not coming back.”
Dante refuses this statement in a short speech of his own, “He will. A house
divided cannot stand. Only by grace are we saved.”
The dragon is not impressed by such logic and accusatorily says, “None of the
witches you burned are coming back either. All 800 are absorbed into an ethereal
plane of non-existence.”
Dante reminds the dragon, “Nothing is impossible.”
The dragon lashes out while grumbling, “You are a glutton for punishment.”
Dante pops open a flask of wine and takes a sip while agreeing, “Damn right.”
As the dragon takes flight, noxious fumes emanate from its exhale, stopping
Dante from breathing until the smoke clears. Then he thinks back to the burning
witch he saw in the scroll.
Dante thinks, “I have not seen Christ face to face. This does not comfort me.”
On the floor another pagan symbol (a pentagram, no less) glows bright white and
a ghost of a druid named Kenneth materializes from out of it. The ghost is finds
it startling that Dante suffers.
Kenneth explains, “Dante, there is no one more powerful than you. Are you ready
for a transformation? Just know that because you defended my ghost in the
temple, you will receive my aid to battle those on either side, for there are
quite a few that want to see you die.”
Dante shrugs and comments, “I am thankful that of all the people to come to my
defense, a friendly devil worshiper offers help in this way.”
Kenneth exits and Virgil storms into the room.
Virgil hands Dante a decanter full of liquid and exclaims an order, “Drink this
poison.”
Dante spills the liquid on accident.
Virgil’s eyes close as he speaks in a foreign tongue, “Beth almi, sham mehath.
Your sins are forgiven. Arise.”
Dante is quick to negate this, quoting a scroll, “No spirit or sorcerer can ever
forgive me—Just know that in the lack of love I have for myself—it deepens my
love for you Virgil.”
Another vision is evident in Dante’s quest. A black knight is clad from head to
toe with a cylindrical visor and shield. With his mace and gauntlet, the knight
yanks Dante into a chamber behind a sliding wall. The wall closes in on him and
more fumes emit through vents causing the protagonist to go dizzy and limp, as
he stumbles to the floor holding his chest—Dante envisions a young ghost of a
friend crying out in pain and made up in female garb with holes all over his
skin. The gas chokes Dante and he grabs his parchment of Holy Scriptures placing
it under his head. He views a stain glass figure above of a scenario involving
two liars falling before the council of the apostles. Now the ghost of Dante’s
childhood friend shrieks in agony—
The ghost exclaims, “Dante, I know what they did to you and your fair maiden—I
won’t see you in Paradise until they give to you what you have asked for. In
fact, I won’t come back until I am assured that justice has been done.”
The dragon from before swoops into the scene and reassures, “I will find your
weakness and take you with me.”
Dante explains plainly, “You can’t hide your lying eyes.”
Virgil quickly acts by rushing into the chamber and drags Dante by the nape of
the neck to a window in the tower, which reveals a small circular spinning wheel
rotating in motion with slits cut around the spiral emitting just enough light
and shadow to create the false image of perceived motion. Virgil pats Dante on
the head and the two wanderers take a glance at the reflection of a different
form of Dante in despair near his bedside weakened from his fear of the impetus
driving desire onward.
Dante begins to describe his vision to his master, “I was crying and gnashing
teeth after a long brawl with the other mistress I told you of, which I had
begged the creator to return to me after writing volumes of poetry to prove my
love. However, even at that juncture, my insomnia had not subsided, with a
lethal dose of alcohol every night for a solid year. Knowing she was a slut
since day one had no effect on how much I wanted her back. I gave up everything
to be with her, yet I knew it was my entire fault—otherwise I’d be affronting
reality, which I do so often. However, this drivel is far too sympathetic and
dependent on someone else for proof that erotic love is death to the self,
joining the other. I suppose it was my misogyny that had gotten me where I was.
Knowing I had broken at least three commandments of the holy writ of
Moses—adultery, theft and idolatry—I feared that chastity was impending around
every corner. At that time I prayed, ‘God, I would give up everything to be with
her one more time; as I think a Christian should uphold a vow, as promises were
made before these dark events took place.’ Then, I felt a pain knock me over and
carry my body straight into the path of an oncoming futuristic device, which in
turn, would end my misery and fulfill the ultimatum of this past lover and her
unforgiving family. Having realized the people involved were too perfect to
accept my degeneration, the machine that rolled over me, carried me to this
afterlife, granting me peace for a few seconds. Then again, when I awoke still
alive, I received a letter that was full of emotion:
‘Dearest Dante, I am afraid that I love your old close friends far more than you
because they know how to respect women and refrain from alcohol. By the way, I
am having far better sex with multiple lovers and I can’t wait until you crawl
back to me with more painful desires to prove your love. I also want you to
repay all of the money I spent while together. You are not well endowed. I can’t
wait to watch your humility increase. I’ve already signed a legal document
demanding money, which criminalizes you if you do not act soon.’”
Dante laughs at the vision.
Virgil explains to him, “I’m surprised you didn’t cut short your own life. If
that had been more than a dream, I’m sure this current nightmare would be over.”
Dante sees a red spotted spider dangling from the wall and Virgil is terribly
uneasy at its presence. Dante plucks it off the web that it dangles around, and
he bites into the small venomous creature, swallowing half and offering the
remains to Virgil, who refuses to eat. Instead, Dante’s master touches the
spider, which returns it to normal, scampering away. Dante swallows hard and the
two journeyers are out of breath for the road ahead. They take a seat and gaze
up through a thatch in the chamber, watching the stars change shape.
After Dante feels a little relief, Virgil becomes inquisitive.
Virgil questions, “Why are you, the king’s loyal servant, becoming more poverty
stricken day after day? Will you not tell me?”
Dante is quick to answer, “At least I have enough to eat, with respect to the
butchers of the calf and the growth of the plants.”
Virgil tries another angle, “Do you not feel ill when you lie down on your bed
and dream of your future lovers, feeding you out of their hands any food you
request of them?”
Dante is honest in reply, “I like it better when I receive food in faithfulness,
rather than in lust for the flavor. However, if I am given two cakes, I will eat
them both without question.”
Dante travels up an incline in the tomb while Virgil follows, suspiciously
peering around to catch any prowlers that might distract them. After a few more
steps, Dante witnesses a large pile of human body parts that he recognizes as
kings of the past. Virgil opens his cloak, removes a staff, and waves it over
the pile of severed limbs. Thus the flesh is set ablaze by magic and quickly
decomposes in the flames.
Dante covers his nose at the wretched smell, but continues on—
Dante is lost within his thoughts, a state that accustoms him. He removes a
quill writing device, pricks his index finger for blood, and with the blood, he
writes on a blank parchment the thoughts that flood through his mind.
The writing is as follows:
“I felt the blessed St. Mary urging me to give up my futile burdens for the
salvation of all mankind. When her presence is upon me, I worry for her in this
dark passage. The virgin speaks to me, ‘Give unto me your blessing; You will
deliver the south of your homeland to the waters of restoration.’”
Virgil takes Dante’s hands and warms them up with his own, breathing on them for
heat. The two of them continue on.
Virgil makes a realization that is saddening, “The entrance of promised polis
will show you mercy. I fear less for you, I fear more for myself.”
Dante comments, “I was thinking the same thing. Which is to say, I fear less for
you than I do for myself. And with the entrance of the city so far ahead, I’ll
provide you Christ’s healing along the way—I only ask in return that your
demonic black art never leaves my side until the end.”
A twisted cherub with darkened eyes, a bright outline of intense glow and
ill-defined bodily form, speaks to the two prisoners of Purgatory.
The angelic figure whispers, “I lead you from the mouth of madness and will
bring you to the well of souls. And the covenant of all seals of Dante’s omen
will not be broken by forces of heaven, hell or any realm of the other.”
Dante asks the angel, “Then why are we deceived to believe that the final realm
is exclusive only to the covenant made by one God or another?”
The angel continues to whisper, now in simultaneous, multiple voices, “As you
have already made a covenant with the slaves of the Babylonians, the Goddesses
charge you with the responsibility of all the souls you have ever known.”
Virgil pushes Dante out of the way and speaks in private with the angel. Dante
tries to understand what they are saying, feeling uncomfortable by their
secrecy. Virgil waves a hand through the being and it vanishes.
Virgil motions for Dante to follow him and with a moment of reluctance, they
both continue side by side down a corridor that twists around to defy gravity.
Virgil floats along, while Dante limps from weariness. Dante stops for an
inventory check in his cloak, making sure he has his tinderbox, tobacco, food
rations, ¾ full wine flask and wineskins, and scrolls of holy and unholy poetry.
Upon discovering all the items, he continues to limp along.
The two men find themselves chortling at paintings on the wall, which are of
harlots in tombs, performing various sexual rituals on the demigods for erotic
pleasure. They enjoy the realism of a picture of old friends bowing to the
Goddesses they lust for. Dante stares at an unusual graphic depiction of a long
lost Goddess reaching out to touch a miserable servant of God. In fact, the
servant has a look of fear of her presence, as though it will strip him of his
spiritual longings.
Virgil pauses and articulates, “You think that one is good, look at this one
from India.”
Dante turns to the said picture and it is of a like figure of him, holding a
bride in his arms, slamming her up against a wall, while they share mutual
ecstasy.
Dante notes, “They never knew how good they both had it.”
Virgil, uncharacteristically sentimental, says, “I couldn’t agree with you
more.”
However, Virgil’s eyes become shadowy as he realizes that he has more questions
for the naïve Dante.
Virgil asks, “Clearly Dante, if baptism is a sacrament of your divine encounter,
then what happened on the day when you baptized yourself in the name of your
four holiest Goddesses?”
Dante thinks back and opens a scroll, he browses through it, and while coughing
up phlegm, he shoves the paper back into his cloak.
Dante is at a loss and spouts, “I am in pain for blaming the castes of the
ancients on the incarnation of a Pagan renaissance, in my life and others.”
Virgil warns, “Watch your candor, Dante.”
Dante agrees, “My mistake, master.” He continues, after briefly pausing, “Okay,
I’ll give it to you quick and painful: My fair lady was enraptured by Goddesses
all her own, and my inflammatory lies were tainted by an amalgam of outside
influences. I was in such fear of having been twice initiated into the sacred
covenants. When the bloods of Baal tested my belief, I took the laws of God into
my own hands. I recall a wash basin of impure, bloodied children, sacrificed for
the rotation of the sun. As I was lying in the wash basin—in an unaffordable
space of squalor, I prayed over and over to a deity that helps to preserve the
muse of your finest poetry. Remembering God’s pain was the loss of Goddess
worship, my prayers to the origins of the East, fell on deaf ears to the kingdom
of the dark sects. Upon restoring the holy cross to the equation, I lie in the
unholy waters of the Fallen Angel’s power and felt a flame shoot through my once
immaculate heart—at which point, the water rose up over my head and I literally
drowned. When I came back to life for the last time, I was quite unsure as to
how the rituals of the damned were in alliance with the rituals of wealthy
oppressors. Ever since, I have had an absurd feeling to kill off all of my
lovers from the days of the old that are already part of the immanent unto the
eternal.”
Virgil is not convinced, scolding, “Why should I buy any of that?”
Dante feels a bit of remorse from his admissions, yet enters a strange barracks
where a familiar spirit carries a black box with a gold chain and greets the two
living beings at the tomb’s portal. The wraith-like ghost is friendly and
without fear of Dante’s neurotic demeanor.
The ghost is mysterious in speech, “You have all the necessary provisions to
recover from the war wounds of your crusade against the plague. However, is the
test of patience the element keeping us from being together?”
Dante, in his esoteric manner, answers a different question than at hand, “I
fear that I will do well on the text, however, the moneylenders are
disrespectful to the plight of my addiction to risk-taking and gambling—Consider
the rich who were once poor, as envious of the poor that have only asked of them
the penance that I pay every morning.”
The ghost does not fully understand the cryptic nature of this seg-way, but
still facilitates a reply, “Then why fear the trials ahead?”
Dante continues his economic lecture, “Because the trials change according to
the laws of the wealthy to bump off the unwealthy.”
The ghost finally knows how to address this stream of consciousness by
explaining, “Even I envy your sexual experiences and your powerful friends. Yet,
I see that, in spite of the shambles of your account, you seek the artisan
path.”
Dante rambles on, “An earthly cousin reminds me that he needs what I have and
you are the one who has what I need.”
The ghost admits, “I do not understand. If your only greed is to find the
fragments of the art of greed, then is this why your next trial is a bias
against your kindness and free nature, which empowers the underprivileged?”
Dante answers the best he can, “It is most likely due to my premature
revelations of a beautiful apocalypse—I’ll be honest, I lost my tinderbox before
the woods took me in, yet what once was lost is now found. Still my lack of
current resources blind me and the mass of the phantoms eludes my safe-keeping.”
The ghost finally thinks of a proverbial statement, “Too much jargon will
flatten you into submission and sterilization.”
Dante disagrees, “There you may be wrong. I have one master above that cherishes
your attention to detail. He has not betrayed your sacrosanct writ and nor shall
I.”
The ghost remains stoic in his verbal lesson, “Writing is a lot less idealistic
than you think. Rapists and false gods lurk around every shadow in your eventual
paradise. And if I know you, one moment of Zen could derail your plans for good.
Also, how will you avoid the drastic force of evil in the chamber of horrors?”
Dante again answers assuredly, “Because although the pressures of Babylon and
the demigods of lost legends are seeking to mystify my presence, my rationale
was handed to me by a moon Goddess that worships me. She appears as a fox when I
remember our erotic encounter.”
The ghost is quick to ask in curiousness, “What did she say?”
Dante confesses, “This time we should take it slow and if we work together than
the several hundred orgasms we share shall have power. This time we shall work
together.”
The ghost is pleased by this train of thought and the interrogation goes on, “So
the fox told you to take it slow until climax and cooperate with or without a
definition of holy union?”
Dante answers in briefness, “Precisely.”
The ghost shudders in delight from the traumatic appearance of Dante.
Now the ghost begins the conclusion of the current dialectic, “Your stay at the
house of the Lord will be troublesome as long as you put off your destiny.
However, I recognize your economical bind as the builders of progress use their
craftsmanship to devise a water-based elimination of disease, to abate the
dung-heap above. I for one, hope to God you know what you’re getting yourself
into.”
The ghost smiles and whispers in conclusion, “Just don’t rush it—Even if I’m not
there when you arrive, my presence will be there. Of course, the prince of
deliverance and peace will always live at the chateau where I too will sojourn
after quiet meetings between us…Peace be with you…”
The ghost immaterializes leaving a few pieces of mangled artworks. Dante
nervously collects the pieces and places them in his inside pocket in his cloak.
The cloak, as it seems, contains an infinite amount of space for objects of
need.
Dante, while pacing in circles, thinks to himself, “I felt a bit rested from
saving my provisions that barely made it out of Hades. Still wearisome from the
rejuvenation of spirit that pours blood into my flesh like mediocre wine in a
half-repaired wineskin. It is a scream of agony from a world of pain unknown
even in my dreariest occasions that retains gratefulness to the remnants of
culture I eternally destroy in acts of recreation.”
Dante scratches his head and peers down a hallway, realizing it is most likely
another dead end. Thus, he makes a detour. He notices a hurting follower of the
broken cross—head, hands and feet being contained in an uncomfortable barrack,
which contorts the prisoner’s body in entrapment.
Dante explains to the author of this text, “No crime is worthy of this
indignity.”
Dante finds a needle in his cloak and meddles with the brass lock, finally
snapping the metal. He prays silently for the prisoner and discomfort increases.
The prisoner wheezes in pain.
The prisoner coughs up blood while accusatorily speaking, “Even if you take my
place, you will never know my pain. So leave me alone. If I am to die of
torture, torture me not with your God’s abundant love for you.”
A revolving rock door on the wall opens to reveal Virgil, Dante’s greatest love
and greatest fear.
Virgil is friendly in his demeanor, as he slowly articulates his words, “Hello
my friend. I know you are troubled by something that no angel, demon or god
could ever penetrate. However, the devil and his minions have given me a hint of
rules that will prepare you for the long trek ahead—including how to keep me
alive even after I abandon you at the end of Purgatory.”
Virgil unrolls a scroll that looks similar to Dante’s own parchments.
Virgil reads aloud from the scroll, “Rule one: Avoid the pagan idol that you
invented before death, or its secrets will die. Rule two: If the lover of your
past comes near, do whatever it takes to chase her off. Rule three: When the
hour of your mortality arrives for good, your freedoms must be sacrificial to
please the winds that would otherwise destroy the literate and humorous until
all that is left is fool’s gold.”
Virgil and Dante realize that they have angered the energetic forces of their
lair by discovering the secrets of immortality. Both of them want to flee from
the shaking walls of Christ’s tomb. So they continue, as Virgil floats and Dante
limps while pushing falling stones out of his way—his thoughts are increasingly
erratic. Virgil lassos Dante with a barely visible noose made of lightning. The
moss in the cavern decomposes rapidly sending dust particles into the air that
cloud the oncoming path. A strange and beautiful ghost of a furry leech latches
onto Dante’s neck, feeding off of Virgil’s noose.
Virgil feels a rush of energy and he speaks in honesty, “I want the bondage of
your enslavement.”
Dante bows to Virgil to humble his words, “You don’t understand—I am your slave,
master, for your passages of despair are greater than the joy of the Lord.”
The passageway tunnel quakes hard.
Virgil deepens his voice and confesses, “My kingdom will prevent the coming of
Zion.”
Dante disagrees in a reassuring tone, “Well, everything is a part of everything
anyway.”
A wall to the right barricades the passage and the travelers switch directions,
tripping over the sudden growth of sponges and moss on the floor. Dante pauses
for a moment to touch a barnacle and it pricks his finger—purple dye oozes from
his flesh. Virgil licks the substance from Dante’s finger, as he removes the
energy-field of magic that is the noose of aforementioned restraint.
Dante winces and stutters, “It hurts worse now.”
Virgil unlocks a chamber to the left and drags Dante by the noose.
Dante’s thoughts pontificate in his split mind, which read as follows, “Carrying
the affliction through the chamber—through mortar and brick, forgetting what it
is like to touch a piece of wheat in a windblown field, oh plague of the End of
the Age—let there not be dew or rain upon you whilst the fields of agriculture
receive no offering…”
Blood stains all over the wall lead the two lost kindred, for only they are able
to read the markings.
Suddenly, a whisper from a female deity calms Dante’s trouble for a moment, only
then to reawaken his concern, “They’re still there, all of them—You are their
God, yet you are disturbed by your own lack of faith, hope and love. God will
never restore everything to you—it is too late for you to please him.”
Virgil flickers a metallic futuristic time piece into Dante’s visual field and
the whisper dissipates. Then, the leech from Dante’s neck detaches and squirms
away.
Virgil explains, “Your poisoned mind is nearly healed.”
Virgil lifts Dante’s left foot and with a shard of glass, cuts open a slit
through his flimsy sandal, straight into the flesh.
Virgil elucidates his position in a doctor’s stance of professionally inclined
dialogue, “The leech is for the removal of toxins. The pain of the healing power
of bloodletting is for assurance that only nutrients will be absorbed after the
poison leaves. And don’t ask me about the sentient beings, because Beatrice
guards them in Paradise, which is an infinite journey that none have seen the
end of.”
After Virgil retreats down a different pathway to find a way out, an angel of
the Lord views Dante’s unrelenting agony and speaks out of thin air.
The angel’s entertaining words are, “Do not be afraid—anxiety and book worship
are not crimes, you lamb of Christ. Remember how much you are loved and that
your pain is his pain too.”
Dante replies with a question and a statement, “But if I cannot be trusted with
a little, how am I to be trusted with a lot? And I do not want to burn for my
sins, I’d rather burn for someone else’s.”
The angel explains, “The Lord reminds you that years of growth and restoration
are as valuable as the locket of your blood pact that you have kept concealed
against all odds.”
Dante still worries about his future, wondering aloud, “Well that’s fine and
good, but what if God does require that I achieve wealth to complete this maze?”
The angel answers, “You let him and his servants handle that. Meanwhile, I think
I am going to find a soul in the world above to torment with evil possession, in
light of your unabashed faith.”
The voice leaves, and from under a ledge, noxious fumes again flood the air of
the tunnel. Dante crouches and finds a feather from a pheasant, licks it and
pricks his wrist. He then opens one of his blank scrolls and allows the droplets
of blood to splash onto the paper. He forms symbols onto the page. As the blood
dries, Dante is perplexed by his weakening heart, and is unable to finish
drawing symbols (that have meaning to no one) as his wrist wound heals. He is
too faint to draw more blood.
Dante and Virgil, together again, walk among disgusting sights of foul shit and
other refuse on the ground. Virgil returns to his friend’s side wearing an
unusual mask and talks to the ever penitent Dante.
Virgil says, “I found out. You are the world’s lousiest thief. In fact, how are
you to justify your existence without documentation?”
Dante answers with his usual hyperbolic absurdities, “Well, there was a heist in
my hometown that even the Lord of the underworld was never able to catch me
during. I robbed from the poor to support my alcoholism while fasting for lent.
I switched documents in case my lost memories of an incarnation of Aphrodite
caught on. While I knew her to be innocent of false accusations of my own
suicidal angst, this did not justify my tryst of the Thieves’ Guild holy
command. Alas, she suffers for the rape of humankind that I did ransom in case
of further trials, which would only get me off the hook for punishing a demonic
spirit of envious lust.”
Virgil, listening carefully, chimes in, “Do not tell me that this lust was for
crimes against literacy.”
Dante is revealing of his madness in speech, “In spite of that, my fear of
familial discrepancies did not deter me from draining the account of an honest
shopkeeper, while losing my worthwhile scrolls that may have prevented my
downfall. Thus, to make a long story short, I forged records to rob her bank
account in honor of my own legacy. However, now that I have made utterance of
suicidal tendencies, I am without hope except to pay her back in contrition,
while her own lust for dominion is an ample contribution to my cause.”
Virgil wonders aloud at this predicament, “If you cannot be trusted with a
worthwhile value of a lesser sum----Why would your act seem out of character,
being as you have written much of your poetry in virtual lockdown?”
Dante agrees, “If lockdown does not prove that I am unworthy to return any
favors until I regain mental stability, I shall take no others with me to the
creator of principalities for lost souls.”
Virgil cannot help but to ask, “Would you say that liberty, fraternity and
equality are of a greater value than any other social ideology?”
Dante is unsure, but answers, “I do agree that money, as we have seen, is of no
value in comparison.”
Virgil laughs and admits, “You got me there. Let’s just hope that the God of
Israel will see eye to eye with your irrational terms of justification. Let us
proceed with extreme caution.”
PART THREE
WELL OF SOULS
Down the corridor an echo of a shrill voice wickedly lies to the ever weakening
Dante.
The voice rises from the underground, “Grace does enlighten the blessed one who
finds energy outside this world from a source of beauty that saves your soul
from the world above, which is now the devil’s domain—Hunger for purity in a
state of bliss that exalts not the weary or weak or helpless, yet only those
interested in totality of economic control shall receive the blessings of
Lucifer.”
Dante feigns resentment at the torturing emanations, knowing that beyond the
illusory sounds, another in a series of sliding rock passageways awaits. Like
before, only this time from an unknown source, a thinly outlined rope of a
light’s energy attaches to his neck while he pulls as hard as he can on the
handle of the wall. Spirits of angels wander by, scolding him in various tongues
for all of his futile struggles. An apparition of a veiled creature with a beak
looms over Dante as he nearly passes out from exhaustion.
Beyond the door is a bright window, opening into a portal of a machine that
enables Dante’s intense fear of oncoming onslaughts of projectiles. An old
companion (who will have to go without name or description) comes to his rescue,
shielding the fast moving fire bombs, and to maintain his stupor of ecstatic
loyalty to his friends, he peacefully engages the Holy Spirit in the air of the
ancient warriors that Dante has only by accident come upon.
Dante’s fear for the lineage of King David helps to fend off the attack, which
his friend enjoys watching. As he watches through the window, the clouds part
open to a flaming city of neon in the dampening cycles of the universe’s future,
forming cities that are to be ruled by greed and starvation amidst technological
superiority. Colonies rebuild and collapse as Dante whispers prayers under his
breath for thankfulness that the musician of the Psalms is in safekeeping.
Galactic utopias form and reform under swarms of crackling layers of molten rock
that consume sentient ghosts that attempt to hide from holocausts of their own
advent.
A moment later Dante relishes the appearance of what is left of the sunset—a
shadow on a nearby sundial casts its umbra on the number three. There is an
appearance of a sphere which plays a lullaby of hushing whispers.
A voice in Dante’s head explains what is in his optical field, “The vespers are
singing “amore” to the hour of midnight. Sunrays are striking the middle of my
sheepish expression.”
Dante continues circling around the foreboding mountain with blasts of icy cold
wind impeding his every step.
As he heads in a counter-clockwise direction, again a voice is manifest in his
thoughts, “I feel a weight upon my forehead; a splendor much greater than before
and marveling at I am not sure what; ‘Victorae Immaculata,’ says my voice; I
raise my hand above my eyes and make myself a shield from the sun’s rays, filing
away this visible excess of nature’s contradictions. Soon the hour draws that
you will no longer have fear in your heart; for the more of us possessing
spirit, the more charity burns in a circle.”
A voice of a muse speaks aloud to Dante, “I am all the more starving of
satisfaction if I say nothing now and more doubt collects in my mind. How can it
be that a good divided up among many, can make those who possess the good richer
than if it were only possessed by a few?”
Dante answers, “Because, my friend, you are once more fixing your mind upon the
things of Earth. You find obscurity in true light. That ineffable and infinite
good, which is above, rushes to love just as surely does a ray of light to a
bright surface. The gift is in proportion to the ardor it finds; so that, the
greater the charity, the more eternal good pours on the soul. And the more there
are to love, the more love there is. Even when we go beyond the stars, the days
of old betray the truth of delirium.”
In the cold loneliness of the deceptive chambers, Dante once again fears
isolation from companions of the world below. His belief that mitigates
depression is that the women he wronged are no longer to be his brides in the
heavenly domain.
Dante tries to rationalize these most condemning thoughts (to no avail),
speaking to himself, “Oh well, I thought their jealousy will lead them into
enlightened rage and if my sleep is disturbed by the joy of musicians, then the
spirits shall partake of inherited affliction. Of course, this world conceals
the truth of the realms of the spirits that require coaxing and kindness to
arrive at a fear that they themselves are missing out on. I accept the grace of
God and return with weaponry from the treasury to eliminate the unbelievers,
which is a mistake that has cost me my goals for any other future than death
inside of this chamber. Once I am racing against the nature of space and
existence, then I am damned if I do and damned if I don’t. My own lingering on
the expert studies of wickedness are condemning me to never value useful
materials until the Devil himself truly bleeds me dry of my own personal
judgment of the wicked ones he sent me to condemn unto him. This explains why my
path is so wrought with fear, because purity and perfection are only attainable
in black magic. I must give up hope to the beast and seek only to make
improvements to dark temples of plague that come from a ritual of my own
dabbling with the indictment that cannot come from God or his grace because of
how ugly and hideous I feel in partaking of sacrilegious ceremonies—This too is
meaningless. Insipid distractions and jealous fears of an empty vessel in the
air of true bliss will never be felt in this heart of mine, for it is I that
keeps the Messiah from resurrection through poverty and lack of sobriety amongst
the loneliest creatures of God while he himself is amongst immense loneliness at
this hour. I suppose I shall leave my troubles in the Lord’s hands, though,
because I have written of evil’s exposure, which condemns me to tortures beyond
any control. The spirits of darkness shall truly consume me for confessions of
my sins to Christ and attempt to follow in his ways throughout my life. The
greater my love for him grows, the more I know that my soul shall be ripped to
pieces by satanic powers. In fact, it was the day I accepted him into my life
that the Devil took over all the mind’s of the people in the world and owned my
mind, body and spirit deep within his clutches for eternity. Upon every act of
penance, I fall further away from grace and upon every act of kindness, I become
further away from truth. Upon every slight gesture of joy, God’s wrath grows
stronger against me and every tear shed for the belief of Christ, I am dragged
further into Hell’s icy domain. In fact, I now realize that honest exposure of
manipulation and deceit was the Devil’s true plan from the start—For how could
an act of love torture children? Embellishment is a constant reminder of the
danger of the power of honesty and service to the true creator of the world. I
suppose I owe more thanks and praise to all those I have wronged, but there are
no more peacemakers, lovers of God, teachers of the spirit, actors of kindness;
gone is the cause of humanitarian acts for the poor, the needy, the lost, the
tired and the weary. And does anyone care about the animal kingdom, the
environment or the end of inequality? The last thing I’ll ever be able to do is
to examine the true nature of the beast, for this is an act allowed only to
those who cannot give up the most carnal sins of all—insidious corruption of the
flesh in the form of the most foreboding crimes of all. In fact, I am condemned
to a life of poverty, guilt and embarrassment. In effect, my truest sin was ever
having been a Christian in the first place—this act alone will burn me forever
in eternal suffering.”
Dante continues to follow the roundabouts of the twisted route in the infinite
tomb, overhearing a fever of cries that pillage claims of a sense of wisdom.
In response, Dante speaks to the walls, “My mind is like a grain of sand within
a grain of sand. My pity is felt toward those in an undeserved affliction, which
brings about fear toward the one who has become like us.”
Dante stops moving and rummages through his pockets to find a book of black and
white magic. He flips to page 13 and reads, looking at the illustrations of
astrological markings of Taurus, Capricorn, Sagittarius and Libra.
He reads the book aloud, “If air magic is contaminated by an overabundance of
magic of the same nature, in a combination of fire magic, then the powers create
a force field that accelerates velocity of the rising skies. To combine fire
with fire is necessary in enhancing the coldness of atmospheric pressure. This
means that intensification of the combination of elements is essential to
magic.”
Virgil creeps up from behind and without startling his pupil, he tests him by
asking, “Interesting chart you have Dante, but may I ask—if the differences
between the elemental balances shift from element to element and expose the
nature of each element, will the magician be forever trapped by all four
quadrants, thus eliminating the chances of maintaining one development of
alchemic responses over another?
Dante thinks hard and responds, “Not quite, fine sir. For you see if the outside
spheres of the diagram are drawn into one grid from another, then those elements
harmonize into that position for a cycle, until they reposition into the center.
If the cycle continues in repetition, then the force that claims itself as the
most alluring will grow to a point that it will drain its own power and the
other three points will break from the chain forever.”
Virgil likes his answer to a degree, but continues further inquiry, “Reasonable,
yet once an element retains a value certain of its own, will it not pressurize
its own power, rebalancing the nature of the cycles? In other words, how is it
possible to return to a cycle that is either overused or treated with ownership
of its specific function?”
Dante determines his position and makes a claim, “Well, Virgil, if one element
is disproportionate to the utility of the others and is a value that is
irreplaceable until its purpose is fulfilled, then the point of that position is
virtually unusable again. Let me put it to you in a story—Take Oedipus, for
example. If a prophet held out an orb and looked into it, a vision of a road
ahead may explain purposes of a determined layout of the exact passage meant to
be taken and yet this principle may be completely forgotten except by the
subconscious at which point only later in life will he accept a trial at the
intersection of his unexpected crossroad and predestine his own inner child to
return to his mother’s womb by eliminating his father’s kingdom without
remembering that the purpose of eliminating his father was to reclaim ownership
of his entitlement to rejoin the male and female spirit in harmony. Of course,
in a way, the whole idea of magic is like saying a rabbit will pop out of a
pitchfork and harmonizing the chart will not occur for undetermined millennia.
Then again, take this side of the chart that represents lightning combined with
the constellation of Libra—if this grouping is exposed long enough to a belief
in only its essential purpose, it will recycle until termination of its own
manifestation, ending up with a loss of all purpose whatsoever in our known star
system.”
Virgil continues to take Dante to task, “Then why are manifestations of your own
acceptance of imprisonment at odds with your belief in the coexistence of art
and alchemy?”
Dante attempts an explanation, “It is just that if you position any principle
over domains of reason and logic, then other values have no function.”
Virgil requires more information and intends to get it, “Yes, but if the higher
realm above this chart refuses to coexist with the balances of the planes and
the planes disappear into repetition, then why is one ancient parchment of magic
more valuable than another?”
Dante is quite sure this question is answerable, as he explains, “Well, if you
take the priorities of matter, mind and spirit as central to enlightenment,
there is a document that cannot be ignored. This is the legend of Plato’s Cave;
Within are beings chained to a wall viewing images that are flickering against
the point at which the outside light intersects with the plane within the visual
range of the imprisoned spectators. The visions that flicker on the wall within
the shadows represent a world beyond the existence of those chained. If a
prisoner were to be enticed to break out of the cuffs around his arms, upon the
struggle on the way outside into the light source that create the flickering
shadows, the dilation of the prisoner’s pupils would not be able to withstand
the light source from above and his eyes would weaken to the point that he would
return to the cave of his own free will—due to the sun’s heat source and the
caves habitat, which now provides comfort necessary for the being.”
Virgil understands and contributes to the logic through spoken interpretation,
“If the spiritual essence of the life force generates fear into you from an
unseen connection, then the savior of this realm demands fear from his source
alone—because if this fear is generated from any other source of power
whatsoever, said fear will impose limitations upon you that are of no value.
Therefore, is your cause for Christianity is real at all, the fear must only be
from the source of the Lord’s power within you. And supposing the fear of God
alone eliminates the fear that you have to have of him to put an end to his
decimation of flesh, supposing the decaying corpses of natural diseases that are
wiping out mankind in the world above or below that scream to Christ, while
rivers of blood pour through the streets because of a lack of proper medicinal
practices, then why is not your savior rescuing any of them from decay?”
Dante takes an educated guess, answering, “It’s not that disorder is meaningful,
yet because God and Christ are one, to fear natural causes of biological
disorder is not proof that God’s fear is real within you. Take principles that
stimulate concepts of reason and order to alleviate concepts that are not
technically allowed in his kingdom at all—However, that doesn’t mean we
shouldn’t enjoy this domain while it lasts.”
Virgil takes offense and snarls, “What is there to possibly enjoy about rotting
flesh and decaying corpses?”
Dante attempts to calm down his master, answering his question with a question,
“Why not illustrate the entire picture of mankind, instead of pretending that
pain and suffering don’t actually exist?”
Virgil is edgy and full of contempt in his answer, “Because pain and suffering
do exist and while you have been traveling around with philosophers, the rest of
us have been enduring the heartache, with actual problems like low supplies of
tainted meat and garbage all over the streets. Meanwhile, our supply from our
actual treasury is being bled out from under us, all right!”
Dante is still acting haughty in his reply, “Perhaps if you repositioned the
value of currency to an actual purpose of dedication to the Holy Alliance, your
money would retain more of its worth. Anyway, economics will not do us a bit of
good unless we turn this entire project over to the Lord who is just and SEVERE
in his anger to any concept that does not match up with his—that is the point of
reading these texts; to lead the weak ones away from suffering and torment.
Still, anyone who refuses to define an actual principle that governs nature,
will not be allowed into the domain of Paradise.”
Virgil shoots down his arrogance in the following dialogue, “Let’s face it,
Dante—nothing is real. The defiance of creation will not lead to the damnation
of the covenant. And your precious ‘Holy Alliance’ are just another pack of
Satanists that do actually take the firstborn of their beloved members. They
don’t fucking care if you find out they eat ACTUAL dead children, in front of
the mirrors of their savior, Lucifer.”
Dante is amazed by this outburst and let’s a few questions out into the open,
“No shit? Really? Then answer me this, are the devil worshipers brave enough to
stand in front of the world and reveal this secret blood pact of the occult for
all to see?”
Virgil becomes calm again and quips, “That’ll be the day. Anyway, I remain in
the business to guide the fallen ones away from the Mouth of Moloch, which is
visible in my verse.”
Dante shudders at the flood of guidance he is receiving, adding another
accusation, “Well, the Papacy and the kings are not as forgiving to treachery of
any kind toward the true blood of the lamb. You of all people should be the most
worried, considering you signed your own death warrant when you were in Sodom.”
Virgil finds this zealous statement offensive, but calmly jokes, “Your lust for
conquest turns me on.”
Dante relieves the tension in the building argument by assuring, “I’m sure that
you will come back in another form, if reincarnation is as real as it is to our
guardian Pythagoras!”
Virgil reels in confusion and takes a deep breath before letting words fly, “WHY
have you put out an assassination on the lives of us teachers, when you are in
more danger than any. I saw you summon the Devil from the pit to call the
inhuman entities beyond this world with lust for universal domination in their
glowing eyes, seen behind their masks, as they dressed in garbs of satin?! I saw
them wearing costumes of animals and disguising themselves as playthings for
children, enjoying the beat of the music that I did sing along with only to push
them closer to the point of no return; not even to see if they were Christian or
not but to literally lead the entire cast and crew of witches and warlocks to
the demon possession that will bind them forever, even if they were to drop to
their knees and repent—I’ve seen them try, and they turn to stone! Of course, I
could care less because they all deserve it. I’ve never had more fun leading the
easily manipulated straight into the hands of the antichrist and I was using my
imagination to influence their music against them using your techniques. And it
was awesome—one of the best nights of my life—especially watching the author die
that feigned kindness until put out of his misery. Who still praises the living
Word? I will push them all over the edge straight into Hell and even if they
might have converted to Christianity later in life, I could care less because it
was a direct order from Heaven that if I partook of the knowledge of good and
evil, then I could read scripture to send the ghosts of deception in their heart
straight into the hands of the enemy. And to be honest, I cannot wait to do it
again. Lord willing, I’ll get that chance!”
Virgil passes out from his rage and the Lord of Israel speaks to Dante from an
unknown source, explaining, “Worry not Dante, I enjoy his words—in fact, weeding
out the false deceivers of Christ’s teachings, be they Jew or Greek, free or
slave, is one of my all time favorite activities from the old days. I know
you’ll feel haunted from all these memories, but, in the end, I will remove the
wicked from the Earth.”
As the voice of the Lord fades out, Dante is terrified by the growling that
Virgil makes while still unconscious. He is not a bit in comfort, but thinks
these thoughts, “I want to read all the books that expose his true nature. I am
breathing deep breaths now and hobbling down the stone echo chamber full of the
ghosts of Babylon. I am thinking to myself that I am fortunate to have seen the
image of St. Francis, who informs me in my current thoughts that Christ will
love the sinful, whether or not they ever turn from sin. However, I am also
thinking that I wrote many lives straight into Hell, while thinking I was making
music for my savior. Still, I know that the Cherubim rejoice, and I will do
anything for Jesus, any time, any place, for my King of Kings. Whosoever
believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”
As Virgil is foaming at the mouth in convulsions, Jesus whispers to both men,
not to comfort necessarily, but to illustrate a point. His words are, “Of
course, you both must realize that among your visions in the past were of those
who wore the skin of dead people and were mechanized to move like automatons.
Many of them, you thought to be dead, but their flesh lives on. However, their
hearts won’t last forever, because time is on your side, not theirs. Now, I’m
going to take Virgil into another dimension and work on his physical anguish.
But I send to you he who was just in your thoughts, the blessed Saint.”
Dante sees the glorious image of St. Francis and is quick to speak to him, “My
patron, are you worrying about the day of wrath? The thought of it has pushed me
as far as I can go, until I barely made it back here—though do not mistake me, I
am not boasting of my travels.”
St. Francis laughs and questions his servant, “Tell me, are you sure this wasn’t
the plot of the oracle that you and your friends set you up to die unto?”
Dante answers vaguely, “Either or, my saint, either or.”
St. Francis warns, “If the powers that be get their hands on any of your
scrolls, you are a dead man.”
Dante wonders aloud, “Then how do you know that you aren’t next?”
St. Francis is not at all concerned, explaining, “Believe me, kindred one, this
dimension is surely a comedy in the making, however, I am the person your
debtors all fear most. I will see you again before this is over!”
Dante watches St. Francis ride off on a cloud and a holy governess approaches
the scenario, to continue this brief moment of comfort.
Dante bows to the governess and immediately explains, “I meant what I said, I
will guard your lover forever, no matter what thoughts of mine have seemed
contrary due to the nature of the chalice we drank from—It was all a plot to
throw off the mind readers.”
The governess is stern in her question, “Why have you dealt with the other side?
Behold the father who takes away the sins of the world. I have seen your
sorrows, Dante.”
The governess exits through the wall and another older woman from a wall on the
left enters, grief stricken in anger—She looks every bit as attractive as the
governess, yet her confidence is a wreck.
The older maiden firmly asks Dante, “If you are Lord of this city, for whose
name there was such strife among the Gods, how have you come to sparkle with
such deep knowledge?”
Dante smiles and answers, “You are too kind. I am not sure where my gifts come
from, or what they are, but I do try to use them.”
The older maiden is, like so many of the spiritual beings introduced here,
cryptic, “Avenge yourself of those impudent arms, which have embraced our
daughter!”
After she walks away, Dante finds himself alone in a quiet chamber, reflecting
through prayer, “Pardon me Lord, my visions distract me, though I will never let
anyone take responsibility for the death’s upon myself I have caused alone. I
will always remember the night during the longest war, when there was a merger
of spirits into the form of Aphrodite. While I exchanged an old man’s ambushed
plan for a sip from the holy cup, I felt the Eros of her touch, which was a
memory between only us. And Lord, pardon those who persecute me with the look
that brings out the onlooker’s pity. You have strengthened me and delivered me
from death a thousand times—Thanks again. When my soul turned from these
appearances to things which are true—truth being independent of itself—I
recognized my falsehoods and errors. My guide Virgil, could surely see that I
was acting like a man loosing himself from sleep.”
Virgil returns to accompany Dante through the maze, as they both retrace their
steps very carefully, back the way they came, in order to find the correct
passage.
Dante, amused at Virgil’s recovery, praises him, “Oh my gentle father, I am
training in your light of darkness to join your darkness of light. You have
already prepared a place deep in the abode for the gentle souls I entertain
tonight—When I thought you were irreparably damaged, I nearly fell down and
died.”
Virgil smiles and returns the compliment, “If you had seven hundred masks upon
your face and a chain, still your cogitations would not be closed to me, even in
the slightest. What you have been seeing is to stop you from excusing yourself
from opening your heart to the waters of peace, which are poured out from the
eternal fountain.”
Dante thinks what he should write later, which is, “I almost asked Virgil if he
was afraid of death, but knew that some things, even here, are taboo.”
Virgil, practically reading his counterparts thoughts, admits, “We are men who
have only eyes to see with and they cannot see because the body is senseless.”
Dante loses his train of thought, but replies, “ What that old lover of mine
does not know will hurt her—I mean the lover of the old Earth, ignorant of this
prior existence.”
Retracing footsteps lead the pair back to another visitation with spirits. In
fact, the older maiden, who is more recognizable this time, is happy to address
Dante’s concerns with his lover.
She speaks, “What should we do to one who wishes us ill, if one who loves us is
condemned by us?”
Dante answers, “Trust me, I protect the Papacy, the Royal Family, the artists
and then my service is yours if it means to keep safe the Holiest of Holies.”
An envious rabble of underlings shout from the walls of the chamber, “Kill him,
kill him!”
Dante feels a sharp pain in his gut, choking and vomiting onto an old scroll on
the ground that appears quite meaningless to him.
Dante laughs while apologizing to Virgil for the defamation of the scroll, “This
is a good sign—Dear Virgil, amidst such war, I ask for your pardons for all of
the targets I have granted to the chamber of war strategy. I believe the
checkpoints were all entirely too accurate.”
The two watch the old maiden disappear and after going on down a hallway, St.
Francis rematerializes.
St. Francis is a bit angrier than before (having overheard Dante’s previous
statement), grumbling, “Look Dante, if you need a hit set up, you can contact me
without any stupid blood pact or fear of the Mouth of Hell, so shut up, please!”
Dante snaps his fingers and agrees in speech, “Good idea!”
As St. Francis dissipates, an extremely attractive woman of the alliance enters
in a white silk gown and rubs Dante’s hair—She is a woman in charge of the
galaxy.
She laughs while noticing Dante’s arousal and speaks, “You know, you’ve got less
to worry about than anyone—Just remain chaste in spite of your lustful desires.
Expect to be helped out for a season and get rid of all of your stupid
thoughts.”
Dante gets in a word with her, “I am truly sorry and will be eternally in debt
to you and your husband. If forced to, I will allow the arrow to pierce me to
stop it from hitting your lover at the crossroads.”
The woman opens up a room in which are illuminating spirits and she whispers to
them to speak, as she too exits. Spiritually, there is a mixture of good and
evil here, but their shape is indescribable.
The spirits speak all at once, “We have made several attempts on your life as
well and took your lover away from you. You have escaped the trials of death
enough for us to know that while you’ll never lose your memory, we will
literally determine the time and place of your next death upon the actual
signature of your eternal revocation of the Lamb of God.”
As Virgil furrows his brow, Dante replies to the spirits, “Don’t expect me to
lie.”
Now St. Francis returns in uproar, pained by the thought of Dante’s supposed
heroism.
He asks, “Who put you up to this? Was it the Papacy or the science? Did you go
straight to the top? I want to know, because I will put an end to this for
good.”
Dante tries to reason with the saint, “May our enemies rot in hell, for an
eternity of endless stasis. Never mess with the teachings of our angered
fathers.”
St. Francis smacks his hand on his head and in a puff of smoke is gone. Dante’s
cloak is blown off by this magic, and so he puts it back on.
All the while he is thinking to himself, “I felt slightly sorry for the good and
evil spirits I visit with, for I have seen them happy as children. Still, I was
not deceived because there are many on Earth and below that are predestined by
God to walk with the Nephilim. At any time we want, we have the power to twist
their heads and send them all into the abyss permanently. I must admit a fear
remains from a vision my Lord reveals of a world that does terminate into
Lucifer’s hands and the serpent takes credit for it all. Yet, from the incense,
I am inspired to write in my scrolls that there must be a love for the end of
humanity—a love deeper than for life itself. I believe it was real and the Lord
has shown pride in my conquest—it is He who allows us to watch the evils of the
world and decides what gets the axe, staying true to the law.”
Dante speaks aloud to Virgil, as he knows that his master is concerned with his
thoughts, “I promise you, my thoughts were all of one of the funniest
experiences I’ve ever had—and look, I am still here.”
Virgil warns him, “If you ever thought that the spirits were saved after you
summoned them through necromancy, you are mistaken.”
Dante disagrees, “That’s just your opinion. God is the puppeteer and I was under
the influence of chemicals. And while it may not have been the unholy ghost, I
believe it was the Old Inquisitor himself. Also, I’ll speak with the dead again,
you just wait.”
As this passes from speech, the two journey into a dark room they have not seen
before. Strange masks merge into one form, calling out names to demonic forms
outside the universe.
Virgil is not quite amused and lectures, “It was your influence and your
friendship with them that led the masks to this damned orgy of speech. They do
this for your fucking chemical conventions.”
Dante recalls a memory, which provokes an answer to this reasoning, “Well, guess
what, I’m here and they are there. The dying words of the forgotten child
were—before Satan tore his flesh apart—‘I did it all for you, Dante.’ I asked
for a truth in the forms and I received it and God holds nothing against me. The
best part is—it is hilarious. It is an easy mechanism to take part in. You
infiltrate their union and masquerade as though you are one of them and then
hand out Faust’s Contract without having signed it, kick back, drink wine, and
literally enjoy the show while they burn—Yes, they are tortured for eternity, so
enjoy the show. As far as these masks, even they are puppeteered.”
Virgil laughs to himself for a moment, then retaliates, “Are you ready to be
excommunicated for knowing this?”
Dante attempts to explain his stance, but is quite unsuccessful, “My debts to
society and the thieves of the lesser world are far too great at this point to
worry about that. So it is like this: Either we start the entire quest for the
kingdom over or we follow our trail back to the safe passage, before the Lord
calls out another attack against our people. This time I won’t be able to pray
for any of us to come back—not the spiritual leaders of the damned, not the kin
of the heart of hell—none of the musicians that cast forth lies will be spared,
either. If any of them do come anywhere close to the kingdom, the angels of
death will wipe their existence out of all dimensions. Does this clarify?”
Virgil smiles, relating to these inexplicable concepts, “I love that. Death and
destruction are of my mind and leadership! However, you cannot just end poverty
and suffering and starvation by giving money to soothsayers and diviners and
prophets. I expect nothing in return. Yet, it all comes back to you, does it?
And all the suffering victims of the war are magically walking around again.
Furthermore, in case you thought I’d believe you about some false God just
because you’ve performed a couple of lousy miracles by giving money to the
Church, would I not be then a believer in the bought and sold power from God as
Simon Magus accomplishes in your book of lies?”
Dante is, for the first time, upset at his master, saying, “Consider yourself
involved with the ways of corrupt teachings—The fact is that you cannot consider
any possible solution to the ways of Heaven that God prepares for us, except the
one mapped out by the Israelites. The whole purpose of this road ahead is to
receive our wrathful judgment from the Lord on High and if you want to be part
of his kingdom, then you have to consider all of the charts and graphs that are
part of the design.”
Virgil calmly questions Dante, “Yes, but is it not purposeful to maintain a
reasonable fear for powers beyond this person you cannot see at all?”
Dante attempts the explanation, “If spiritual natures and divine order are in
balance with the harmonies of what is experienced through the senses, then the
fears that exist from powers beyond are simply training all other fears out of
you to return you to the source of all fear. There is a time for plague and a
time for adventure. Out of respect for the Holy Knights, they themselves
generate fear within us to accept allegiance unto the living word.”
Virgil also puts to task that explanation, “I thought you said it was them that
were pillaging and slaughtering and bringing about your fears through black
magic, did you not?”
Dante is at first caught off guard by Virgil’s remembering, but stumbles ahead
in words, “Virgil, I think that is the difference between demonic magic and
occultist wizardry. The biblical devil wants credit for everything and permeates
the slightest waver in faith. However, he will demonstrate his own weaknesses
through our faith, in turn corrupting his own visions into false prophesies.
Still, an allowance for fear of whatever power of the other side may hold is
intact. Remember the Plato’s Cave myth which is really an allusion to the eyes
readjusting from exposure to photon rays. The being that returns to the cave
will not bind himself to old useless chains that had no function in his life.
Rather the being will reinterpret the flickering shadows as a new experience.”
Virgil begins to understand, but also has to defy this line of thought by
saying, “Not bad, but this process is of no value to modern thought anyway,
because Plato has no concept of rationality whatsoever. Now, for more important
matters, if I were to take a tobacco pipe made of iron and fill it full of
normal tobacco, how could I apply your alchemic principles to convert it into an
opium?”
Dante gives his best shot at an answer, “Well, I think what you are getting at,
is if the concept of Plato’s Cave no longer applies to modern rationale, you
really cannot harmonize the elements to solve alchemic purposes and therefore
you wouldn’t have faith in the forms that are already composed by the spiritual
essence of the divine. Therefore, once again, without the spirit of the living
word none of this is even possible.”
Virgil asks a couple of loaded questions, “Do you think your alchemy is more
valuable than a lost parchment of alchemic design? Of equal value? Explain,
please.”
Dante thinks back to his conversation about magic and elucidates, “The quadrants
are there to be designed according to your own values or purposes and if those
values cannot coexist based upon hybridization then perhaps those values were
never part of your purpose. Then again Virgil, don’t you think that the designer
of alchemy is able to bring back all of the elements that have always coexisted
together?”
Virgil states vaguely, “If you are asking what I think you are asking, not
necessarily is my answer. If pieces of the nexus are already passing away from
the world, why would you restore the outside fields that refuse to be even in
the slightest togetherness. With a specific righteous dilemma of frustration
that is exposed to be mysticism, nothing actually takes part in resolving the
quadrants for any practical function or even a higher function.”
Dante somewhat agrees, “For every function there is a form and without a form
you cannot have a postulate of the reversal of spiritual evolution back into
matter.”
Virgil clears the nature of the discussion, “Your ideas are entirely
unreasonable—if you set a limitation upon a value of one formation based upon a
limitation, then that element will absorb and draw you into its phantasmagoric
specter and you will not be able to achieve its purpose at all, because it will
deceive you by maintaining its authority over the harmony of the other
elements.”
Dante continues the conversation, “Yes, sometimes when you set a goal, you will
never achieve it. However, the propositional nature of retaining a position
within a plane of the cosmos over the other specters alongside the planes of
existing gateways to the stars will retain the image that you are responsible
for completing. The process of trials in endless repetition go around and around
until that process contorts you into a deception that it is the only possible
trial to remain in forever, as though there is only one value that coordinates a
response.”
Virgil enjoys responding, “You know as well as I do that an over intensification
of this elemental pressure is dreaded by those carrying Holy Scripture similar
to your own. Yet will the chemical and energetic magic fit into only one portion
of the grid forever, if it recycles?
Dante answers the question with a question, “Well, what would be the purpose of
only retaining an indifferent orb of the cosmic fire, only to be forced to stay
in that retention forever?”
Virgil, for the most part, agrees to disagree, “Yes, but dwelling between the
ever-changing elements of divine invention does not really protect you from each
of the combustible mixtures tearing you to the four corners of the Earth.”
Dante continues lecturing on magic, “Don’t worry Virgil, the Earth is composed
of the spells around its outer dimensions anyway. And don’t think that it is the
only element to possibly dwell in forever. In fact, that too is cyclical and
will only reproduce qualities that ultimately pull the other elements into its
sphere as though it is the only state of existence.”
Virgil asks, “But will shifting and mixing the elemental structures unbalance
everything?”
Dante reaches into his cloak, turns open his scroll of magic properties and
reads, “A three part water spell with a two thirds lightning in proportion with
a mix of hair and sand—it creates a defensive power that arouses the
protector…conductivity is never deflected by the wrong combination of elemental
mixtures. However, if one mix is more or less overabundant than the others, it
may cause a chain reaction of the elements battling over which is the strongest.
If remaining in only one cycle for too long, the repetition of elements contorts
the magician into an endless cycle of the reactivity in said productive force,
eventually immobilizing the user from pressure. If this is the case, one must
remain inside a sphere of indifferent incantations for what seems to be
eternity, never allowed to coalesce all four elements that are otherwise without
differentiation in performance concerning placement on the grid. If one element
takes over the entire grid, the entire grid is subsumed to remain inside a
constant cycle of only one power. Therefore, the purpose of balancing and
repositioning the elements without fear of the absolution of their differences
is pragmatic.”
Virgil is astounded by this information and takes hold of the scroll, babbling
to himself while wandering off. Dante reflects on God while his master is away.
God notices his thoughts and is amused.
In fact, God begins to speak to Dante, “Be not deceived, for there are powers of
the enemy afoot that have set out to take from us our ideal vision of an entire
picture of the beginning, middle and end of time. The evil ones attempt to deny
us the right to the penultimate experiences of the pleasures of mankind—This is
why I will wait for you to return my scrolls and you shall again see the scrolls
I have kept from you—At that point, the entire vision shall be complete with all
the original sources. Thank you for keeping my words together.”
Dante experiences utmost relief from God’s voice. Yet, the poet feels trouble
because of the loss of the ones who realizes will fail the tests of the Lord,
remembering the crimes of his old friends and acquaintances being too great to
have ever been part of the final vision of God’s oneness.
Dante takes a moment to jot a few words into his journal. He writes:
“Who will be part of the Kingdom of God? The more I study his words and believe
in the teachings of his art, the more I find myself studying the wickedness that
I allow myself to examine. My soul is ever pushing me further toward the
ultimate punishment for my lusts and urges, which keep me from the Gates of the
Wisdom. The bread I eat in the desert shall surely be poisonous to my spirit in
the afterlife and the remainder of my unconscious experiences shall further tear
me away from ever exposing the ways of the wicked. In fact, if the antichrist
that haunts me creates music or poetry that permeates my domain of thinking, my
abominations will only be further exposed as the war intensifies that the Father
in Heaven unveils to me alone. Perhaps I will further burn for having dared to
be as great as Virgil, who sent me here to sin with the imagery I have seen. And
if I continue in wicked lusts and thoughts of vial impurity, God will personally
drain me until I am pure enough to partake of his dream. If any ugly remnants of
the past have offended the heavens or worlds below, God himself will unleash
even greater punishments upon me. He will never restore my soul for the crimes
of world hurt I may have provoked. How truly reprehensible my soul remains. For
I have continually thought of nothing but evil, never making good with enough
penance to the Messiah, instead only engaging in a wickedness too great to
comprehend. Expose my dishonesty, Lord. In effect, the only method for my
continuance along the paths of this Purgatory is to confess that I lie, cheat
and steal. When did I decide to be like the ancient kings, who never have enough
riches, stealing always from the lower classes? I may never achieve salvation
for my corruption. Am I sealed off from understanding the Word of God or the
devil or even the great poets forever? Though I know the souls of the damned
weaken as I weaken—I already lost my dream and the conquest for eternity is
futile. For if I have given my soul to the Underworld, there it shall remain and
if I continue to fight against those that have shared my chalice, a triumph
cannot exist in any shape or form. Even though I am responsible for deaths of
angels and gods, the center of my despair is a totality beyond the pain of
disillusionment. What will St. Peter do with the keys to the afterlife? Shut me
out for exposing his enemies? I suppose the acts of my labor and my personal
belongings and selfish tyrannies from ages past have beguiled me.”
Dante quiets his mind, remembers again his true love and whispers to his
Messiah, “Lost in the land is where we both shall live. Take from me the one
thing that has not passed. I’ll try so hard I’ll get to you at last. Right now,
I don’t care where I go next. The physical and spiritual perplexed. The feeling
shines the word behind her veil. Her skin, her touch…”
Dante decides it is high time to look for Virgil, but a looking glass on the
wall distracts him.
He thinks, “If my written discourse does not satisfy the reader, either way
Beatrice condones me. She takes from me every longing. I will try to secure the
wounds that have been closed by my acts of contrition.”
Feeling content, Dante stares into the looking glass, and as he stares into it,
the background of the reflection, as well as his reality, changes to a circular
space. His eager eyes are silent.
A moment or two later there is an ecstatic vision in the glass, which becomes
more like a window. It reveals a number of people in a temple. In the midst of
them is a sad, lonely, gray-haired man kneeling by a chair. Dante takes hold of
an eyepiece (of course, from a box in his cloak). He extends the piece to look
closer. He sees the man’s sadness dissipate into reverence. The old man folds
his hands and prays silently with his Holy Scripture. Dante finds this image to
be a huge relief to his previous encounters and he sighs with heartfelt intent.
At that moment a wisp of smoke from the ground attaches a ball and chain to the
left foot of the adventurer.
Due to his misfortunate handicap, Dante limps into a crevice that is
overwhelmingly bright.
Dante calls out to God, “What is that, gentle father, from which I cannot shield
my eyes in any effective way?”
The voice of the Lord answers, “Do not be astonished if your desires are fixed
on the servants of heaven, as they will be returned in future worlds. Let the
love of the supreme heavens heal you.”
Dante thinks, “Thank God we are always together, especially that night so long
ago or who knows what judgment would have been brought upon the world if we
hadn’t survived.”
Virgil, after his hiatus, returns to accompany Dante.
Dante is quick to speak to his master, “I am still a bit shaken from the fear of
the restless rivers of Styx, and the fear that I will never again stand on the
Earth.”
Virgil is distracted by something on the ground and points it out to Dante.
Dante kneels on all fours and finds a burnt out torch, a damp bag of diseased
tobacco, and ashes, which he scrapes all together into a pile. After this
pointless act, he sees a crawlspace and struggles with feverous nerves to remove
a square stone that blocks the small passageway. As the stone finally slides out
of the precipice, Dante moves under thunderous roars of what seems to be an
earthquake. As he arrives at the opposite end of the tunnel, he moves onward
through a gate and across a rickety bridge, crossing it quickly as the stark
scenery all disappears behind him. Virgil, through some psychological game,
emerges at the other end of the bridge and is quite cheerful, all decked out in
a white robe (marked by the Goddesses of the East.)
Virgil questions, “Why are you so frustrated? Have we not offered you the
world?”
Dante explains, “I have to get to the treasury and escape this dementia.”
Virgil’s voice becomes louder, “Do not be upset with me. Everything is the same
as it always was.”
Dante changes the subject, “You taught us that temporal existence is realistic
and yet if I remember your teachings from childhood, this upsets you, right?”
Virgil becomes louder still, “Take off your clothes and kneel before me, you
smuggler of wicked thoughts—Do not lie and pretend you remember that far back.”
Dante is startled and accidentally spills out the contents of his cloak, thus
causing his wineskin to spill out a few drops of wine onto the floor, which
causes shrieking sounds around the maze.
Virgil screams, “Now, I am enraged!”
Dante hurries away from Virgil, down the circuitous ancient tomb. From behind
him he envisions a haunting emanation of a disfigured creature that reaches into
his chest from behind, clutching onto his heart, squeezing it and tightening the
grip.
The emanation declares, “This is for your reverence to the council of the
Archbishops in charge of depleting the sorcerers of the ancients that have
mocked you for delivering peace unto the Church.”
Dante telepathically discusses this predicament with the creature, “I feel your
icy hand bramble me, but why for my affection of the apostolic council that
seeks falsifiers of my doctrine?”
The emanation answers, also with telepathy, “Because of your use of twisted
nails and stretching racks that would rip apart the damned souls who forgot the
teachings of God. I am angered at the gift love of your sacrificial offerings.”
Dante coughs while upset at the next thing that happens, which is nothing short
of a thin apple core taking the place of his heart.
The lights go out, the maze shifts, and Dante rounds a corner shaking his head
from the fumes in the corridors that have knocked him nearly unconscious—the
lights return (dim at best) and he views a young teenage girl with brown hair
and an over-shirt draped over her tender body. She clicks her feet together.
Dante, having abstained from acts of sexuality for a long while, begins to
caress the leg of the child. She moans from the feeling. He guides his hand up
her leg, noticing her discomfort and excitement—She scoots away a little bit and
he continues to trace her young softness, imposing his lust upon her mind. He
whispers in her ear and she begins to cry, growing increasingly uncomfortable.
Dante glides his hand closer to her inner thigh, softly sweeping her twitching
skin. He carefully extends a finger and tenderly presses it into the middle of
her legs—She twists from ecstasy as he plunges his finger straight into her
moist sacred vagina and slowly pushes more of his hand in. He lays her onto the
ground, with finger still in her body, at which point she trembles and her eyes
close. He removes his hand and wipes her secretions onto her eyelids, kissing
her cheek as he presses himself on her innocent body. He opens his cloak
slightly while removing the girl’s undergarment. He further pushes himself
against her and feels her moisture. Her eyes pop open and she grabs onto Dante’s
hair and pulls him into her.
Uncomfortable by the acceptance of his charitable act of passageway into
adulthood, he pushes her away and stands up, wiping her seminal fluids on his
cloak. He blows her a kiss as she smiles and passes out.
The young girl blinks and awakens whispering to Dante. She picks up a glass
shard and slices open her torso, dripping blood and licking it. Dante crouches
down and tastes the open wound. He removes his dagger and further forms an even
deeper cut around her lower stomach. Engaging his blade into her intestines, he
attacks the innocent flesh, twisting the blade as she cringes and writhes. He
attaches the blade to her intestine and pulls it out of the deep cut, yanking
out vital membranes. She loosens her shakiness and he kneels and bites down on
her organs, swallowing pulpy blood. He ties her hands with her intestines and as
her gut is now fully splayed, she laughs with an orgasmic delight. He wraps the
twisted flesh around her neck and again kisses her cheek. Like a rope, he
attaches the remainder of her intestines to the wall of the tomb, carefully
draping the flesh around a nail on the wall—kissing her one last time, he
collects a few drops of her blood onto a handkerchief, pockets it and she
expires from satisfaction. Dante wipes the blood over his brow and leaves the
young girl to die in comfort. Wishing he could be her, he shrugs, puts away his
dagger and continues into the deepening caverns of the infinite.
Dante thinks to himself that it is time to find the exit.
His thoughts are, “Now I must leave this place, leave my apt speeches, and
whatever is necessary for an urgent escape. Bring me not consolation. I do not
wish to return to where I am from. To seek love at all is an act worse than
suicide itself. If I had a master at all, that would be a greater weakness for
me. In silence I discover the enemy of love is lack of comprehension. I am like
an animal, which changes rapidly from vision to vision in case of its progress.
To remember is to be in a process of violent, self-torture. To forget is
deadlier still. Upon the call of Beatrice, blessed and beautiful, I dropped to
her feet and begged her to put me out of my misery. Her eyes caught fire and her
voice revealed a repulsion at the thought of dead lovers. To this I realize that
a fortunate trap has been set to speed up and slow down thought processes that
are not allowable in any context of the murky underground.”
PART FOUR
MAPPO
Wandering aimlessly through a tropical byway no fusion amidst an intense source
of resource---at last awareness—“now what shall we turn away from” shouts the
crowd, no longer enamored by the cultural imperialism as the days gone yore.
:Girls matter more than boys, for they are the precipice of live—they give and
take lives unless they are of their yoke, which matters not in this pointless
razor sharp witful infirmary of mysticism.” Thought Buddha although so concerned
with his absence that he began vanishing. “Come back Buddha, whispered a child.”
“Buddhists are missing the point of my devira fiction,” response a choir of
angelic hoist that now delivers messages of the ancients with jealous hostility.
Oh Amida! How you have beaten my ways in terms of peaceful reconciliation, for
my existence is painless suicide—saith the Lord---but none alter messianic or
principled wages among your immaterialistic manner of attracting flies to your
destruction.
Awareness to your cause—Reconcile meditation pr be doomed to curse my thoughts.
A woman shrieks in joy and pain—How much longer will we toil for humanity—are we
paid equal sums for our livelihood---Who is in control? What power do we submit
to?
Thresholding snake, gentle yourself like a dove, or perish in an unending
dialectic squabble dame and chance for further fear and fortune.
Once a leader is gone, you will miss him forever, therefore a leader shall not
leave---unless the times change and such.
Another corridor, another money scandal----interpret philosophy and sudden death
awaits—the stranger—implicates of mass of heavy burdens that only a disastrous
Christian would partake of for humiliation and desire to free others from
boundless sins—
Oh, how I have sought to praise Buddha and how he returns the favor with
hardship and isolation—freedom from sexuality butt pulls me under with images
that steer my mind in four directions—a whole, a ship, a mermaid and a
dolphin—Which is fantasized by the third. Are no gods women? Why are the
goddesses gone?
“I believe we let them go in the end to pass on to a leaner futuristic position,
“exclaims a leader R in a fury of slips and crunch-time.
A captain D repeats, “There’s no future in a negative karmic agenda without
hope.”
“As for hope,” A.T. replies in this meeting—“a chance encounter with death will
forever eliminate it—even through transcendence you’ll get your brains bashed
out for instigating a commoner’s war—If not now but by disbelief in instant
gratification, which now that ‘she’s’ gone, she’ll never come back and we all
live forever because of it, St. Mary for you I do mourn…”
Ineffectual and modest, thrives through tormented torrents of waste—for all
returns of over-productivity. When less needs more and more needs less, all
falls apart in saturated negotiations.
Disappear into Zen as a Westerner and it will remain a formal proof of intense
metaphysics displaced in unity and severity of edificatory displays of the
oldest idol—the idol of the Christian ankh-talismanic cross turned blood red in
multiplication without hesitation to free a member from yours o sensei
Confucius—retrain me to delight in freedom as all this hallway expands and
collapses into memory or lack thereof---will you break me? I will not break you!
“Consider the source, if nature’s choice is propaganda for seasonal bliss—always
give them what they want,” says the outsource/
“I thought you spoke against our agenda for wages and lost art forms—you are
either with us or against us, so to speak.”
“Perish unto our ways, or die trying!” Saith the vortices.
J.S. walks nearer to a symposium of dried goods and his taste bids pop a mall on
his tongue, triggering endorphins and exciting brain currents—all awash and
aghast at his dilemma of vegetable digest only—settles for natural dairy,
products, deifying natural products, against an Eastern strain of sacramental
Hinduism—but what is the price of pork chops in the Holy Land’s if it be
sacrificial lambs?
Untapped witticism of the ages—cool me down by firing me up—please me in your
pleasing demeanor—lie often to save face—uncandidly rewrite the book of insanity
into a sanitarium. Clone a god to mock his mildness gently, without a bill left
to pay, until the end of days pay—or are they?
The way to centrism is a waste of well earned money—to this and live forever in
limbo—because money was made to be spent and only two at a time can consummate
without distraction—at least until other enter the memory, “redeems,” saith
Buddha who vanishes quickly after speech.
Buddha commands divine attention:
Demand without demanding
Lose your inhibitions
Do not worry
And kingdom of life is all around us.
Pointless quibble are unmatched around here separate agendas reek of fusion.
Uninterpretable religions separate us for logic’s sake.
So A.T. moves himself around without loss of memory of a secret love and secret
love and many women overload the senses, I will bring them to an ecclesiastical
mindset to remind them that one is no better that the rest—Unless you are able
to rise to the challenge.
Unrest, pity, salvageable demons and awareness of the rest in confusion, will
put you into somnolence and peace and that is overwritten somewhere again
between Earth’s mother and Time’s father—a romance unawares of broken
capabilities to engender sexual prowess is not a lust for a poisonous
antidote—this is why my kingdom perishes intentionally for hours on end—without
irony. Understand?
My nature is natureless, my awareness one…
Why have you described me when I am all—because meditation requires I forget
your manhood and godhood my God and devil, who thirsts for salvation amidst a
cesspool of abstract thoughts, which have gilded a road of such abstraction that
has lead us back to you, my savior.
There is not a saving grace that will move you-you will be cut into pieces and
your body will served among friends---It will hurt.
“You disgust me Jesus,” saith Buddha—“How can you be so non-violent and promote
violence?”
A calm voice answers, “My violence atones for all violence.”
Amida, was your ‘yugen’ reason to leave us—possess me. Thank you—writerly
poetics have very little space in a religious circumference.
So A.T. recorder a mathematical formula that would always lead an absolute
zero—(270 minus Celsius—metric measure—what system we do not understand their
ways at all.)
Duchamp turns to face his pornography with care—in a revisionism of Uncle Tom’s
Cabin?
I disagree holy Lord because I dismiss everyone from the learning curve—your
standard is too high.
Meditate on the word
Buddha to Confucius—I have no words to explain the good or the vil.
Confucius—then orate to me your greatest desire
Buddha—although I have no desires, I do know that women and others like them
want to be treated as equal—But how can you be an equalizer—
Confucius—I’ve never mistreated a woman—
“Well, I have,” thought A.T. “And viciously so, I cannot rely on them to relate
to me.”
W.I. speaks over the mall intercom, “Death to Videodrome, Death to Old Ways and
if you speak your mind, you’ll wind up in bedlam, sir…”
“Freedom of speech is coming back—unless it hurts the body of the gov’t
structure saith M.S. while waiting for L.C. to come out of a dressing room.
Why are we aimless—out sight, out of mind—stop making an ass out of
yourself—unless it is a probable symbol—Do you ‘understang’, senorita?
“I do not understand why you—Lord—are so violent, when you test them for fruits
of peace,” saith Buddha
Jesus replies, “Their whole lives are a test for me and I will fail them if they
cheat…unless permissible.”
A.C., “Please do not,” he says to a mall, “you are here sign.” Anti-Christ
continues, “They are my children as much as they are yours.”
Then you can have them.
I do not understand my own ways—if Zen cannot bring me quietness, what will?
Will you stop my mind before or when I offend you?
K.C. is waiting in the wings and flashes like a lightning bolt, “We all go where
we want to go for whatever reason and it don’t worry me—should it?”
NOPE—the narrator replies
What if I am not an idol, but rather an icon, framed for just wars and liberal
problems to solve—Can you determine the time I’ve wasted.
R.J. thinks to himself, “We may not be in it for the money, but it sure is a lot
nicer when it has value—“
Slaughter, laughter, auditor,
D.K. says, “I disagree, because even when we thought of sex, he became a really
strange idiot.”
Do not think of him as an idiot unless Kurosawa is at pay to perform in a
Dostoyevsky mode of production—
H.C. walks a baby-walker into a store thinking, “Why have they designed this
around me? Where are my flower children—do they think of plants as evil, and if
so why?”
‘Life is a game of chess…whence my opponent saith unto me…that piece cannot be
moved…” Either/Or by Soren Kierkegaard
D.C. replies at a round-table, “If I agree with almost everything in atheism,
then why is spirituality denied.”
I do not have the time to carry this burden other than to a Goddess paradigm,
where I will always fail—saith the narration—
I will allow them to steal but never steal from them another copy of their
Birth, “claims Buddha—“
G.L. is amused, thoroughly, but he is glad not to know what it means to S.SS.
for engendering impetus among the holy flower of Apu’s Goddess—peyote and the
lack of a better cure for it—
Buddha, if you are God, why has mass murder jaded your history?
“They cannot be true followers of religion and kill anyone, my friend of the end
of days,” Saith Buddha—“But tempt me not with worthlessness…”
S. chimes in, “What is worthless to some is worthwhile to me—I’d create a
catastrophe to get you back into my old beliefs—but my Lord knows not the ways
of your shots—I’m buying a Japanese camera to prove it!”
You can do that here-unless propriety attempts to reevaluate a lesson in
overspending.
I will end your charade by teaching you: a)we’re only sometimes in it for the
money, b)we can be reached anytime by anyone, c)that which keeps itself out of
reach is condoned by everyone or condemned by no one OR d) settle the score at a
later date and I will always choose the latter for a ladder to my Golden
throne—Do not change me or I will change you into your object of utmost desire
to end your fears gently and despise opposition for the eternal others. Do not
forsake me, although the delusion is a spare syndrome of old fear tactics—like
picking up brainwave insults and deflecting them for old friends—Again, I say
farewell to old ways—
Clearly you are dabbling with too deep of magnificence for shelter—a maze of
sheltering omnibus that guides you back to the right wing—for disavowal purposes
only.
Do you drain my brain in layin’ your stain? Or do you cope for hours behind your
showers—Pledge your loyal allegiance to the ones that led us best forever—but
not always in a cyclically demanding utopia—barometers do not always meet our
demand—Doth lightly he take to demanding spirits—
Who are you to criticize?
D.P. question to claim, “I have never understood no one better.
(IT IS FINISHED)
PART FIVE
HYMN (SING ALONG)
In exorum delata recordum infiltratum pero leche nunca domine eternum requiem.
Regis en spiritum deliberata en recuerdem en recuerdem felicum pratatorae
requiem. Infedilio morium en parte esta incredible para no es ferocia—Pax en
requiem eternum infernum delictatatus quorum en excelsis reparata la mana. Deo
en eternum prepare. Reparare de la entre cerca nada florae nata delata—Es cierto
de la noche. Describe en firma la eroticae—Relagata me eternum en officiate
desparte me animae. Continuarae especialmente deletarum esta inequibilis ecco
depletum no es necessario. Respartarum en cantanta recordae deliberta te regis
circum relegatae delibertum vihilim lactae eroticae cerca prepare…iconum vidae
anos morium excelsium deo pax carpe lactorium en felice nata delitirium
renunciarum demonae prada naturae interior lesparte deliverum vidarium trece
anum recordatae inferiorium annihilate totem cerca vida topos morium—inferior
nata blancae—liberate anarchum pax inferior. La felice en deleterium nunca passé
febrous capirnicum—Orgium en felatae—respartate vatorum cerca vida en imagum.
Inquisitiviste largum. Exorbatum deleterium en fumagatam comprenderae. Ex ferata
regis separate de regalia en pristinae deceptate cerca dereche en reparante
decepte. Escribe delantae par requiem desirae, en escrite de contract mono
morium grante pax. Cuando tracte con specifice la morium determinate la Diablo
finalmente. Ex patria salvia florae en excremente cuando relative en durando de
mundo. Especialmente cuando tres completa la parte de manos sacrifice de deus.
Cuando noche escrite signae determinate temporarum eternitum satisfactorae
cuando recibum te promisar nunca refusarae. La eternum specificum en accordae
cerca placae encantable specificatorum retiratata. Ex escrite deniable la
eternum devorum spicificata en valorum concernum regis specificae datum para
morium. La contracte devorarum en eternum momente finalmente todo mente panacea.
En spiritare devororum es imagae en todo temporarum—te preparum devorum enterate
sin compliance. En recite de la nacht operata en dispartorium devorarum
diferente todo no la auteur, (es imposible.) Deratata en la noche de inferorum
grantum eternum sufferate en cantata desirable paradiso. En escrite cerca textum
nacht escribe dereche eternitum revilata sin delata cerca linea. Inferata
determinatum en exactum muriom de linea. Afflictate par eternum en cerca
lactatorum. Resparate nunca laceratae cuante disrepare totum contracte sin
concurente de illusioniste. Deteriorium en la reparate subsumata par eternum
tractorium. Cuando la hora la contractatus es—lacaratae en tractorae pax felate
preformata. Severata mana de abscencia de domine para eternum con retatorium e
requiem. En esposa de felice me e nata resparata energata. Inferata delata me
experium eroticae. Ex parata cuando flege en spirita determinum. A filata de
mar—Espiritata denanta sacrificae mantera—recibe eb escribe todo siga basilica.
En latata desperate pax la falta en circe delata. Sin reparata eternum infernum.
Enferata despiclabara parata en encertum craftata la parabla de eternum
inferatum literati experate deleterium cuando la politicum es inferiorum en
eternum delata la miserata deceptata recibum en eternum la ganarium en
subtractum enferata relagata en regalia protectorium para la encantum detracte
purgatorium en felice de distractum preparum resparante enterum en deterium
delata. Escalante denata de detorium eroticae. En expirum en eternum la escrite
decimatae reparta. Reparte de unum ex ferata deleterium. En experium lavatatum
de la murio complica. Expirata en la rasa la maneda spirita. Escrite en la nata
repartate requiem. Esta noche en la dia es experencia sin complica. Reparta
nacht immediamente sufferere sin escrite. Literati en decepte sin de Christe en
la mana florae te. Enterate sin la noche en la dia repare. En deuterium
reparante en apparatum la rata en experiencia. Defatatum eroticae. En Diablo
probablamente no felice en mana en excelsis en un factum en la mundo sin me mana
eroticae. En escrite alterata cuanto resparate delata. La falta de la cerca en
me noche requiem. Operata de la figorum delata. Respirata en retractae en placae
en reparta. En detata me infernum paradise esta nacht. Inferata cuanto en la
noche resparta. Purgatorium en la rata nunca dia felata. Espirite en exporium
nunca returne mundo sin papa. En la falta de la mundo este expirium par ate.
Quibis niche detanata en me escrite comica. En divina recibe de returnum todo.
Solamente en abstractae reparata en deta. En me escrite en infernum lactae nata
eroticae. Deceptata en la musae en la te. Recibum de inequitables de papa
entiende restorata escrite cuando para cantorium. Divinata en craetorum
experanta infernum. La esporum en flanata en recordum abstractae. Animalia en
retata con phenoma spirita. Dominata en la ferata denatata expirum. Falta rama
en la felinae liberatae estrella pax. En recuerdem de cercata cantata recibum
Mana deuterium en estrella en ferace experium. Rectaratum en la bonita estrella
te la gata experium. Defetatum en purgatium cerca tratorum espara. La pax denata
en la quince pax de sin la te nata. Inferiorum en distrata moneda prata mundo
te. Dante falta en la pasa la animalia domine. Cuanto expirae miserable exista.
Determinata es cierto pero pez en placa amicia. Restorata en detorium me familia
agape. Restorate me infernum en maneda abstractum. Reparte la espirite de agape
disparum. Eroticae te Portia en la madre de amor. Parte en la interiorum escribe
cubitum centerium enfrente durantante requiem. Para felice en romana, en el
mundo expirum. Me familia de la perfectum, deterata la mundo. Cantata (Te llamo
me referencia en la biblia cuando pagina abre feminata espirata metaphysique).
Te estrella pagina es determinate en competata es comica. En apparatum me
entiende la regalia espirite la regis estrella cartae memorabilia. Recibir la
todo pax en romana. La regalia en la cerca es un todo repara. Infernicum florae,
plantae, animalae divisum. (En la mundo iqualmente felicite nunca.) Candelabra
restoratae deleterium murium solo para dium. Establise la maneda en todo,
padres, madres, te expirate en murium. Aparate no decepte armada. Inferiorum en
decepte la Chablis deteriorate o eternum inferiorum todo. Inferente te placa en
appartum disparte nunca o fantasia suprema. Contaminata es Diablo preparada todo
paz. Un prepare me expira a la noche morium. Returnum panacea en appratium en
mana. Expirum entre feraca ano mundo icium descripte domine cuanto todo para
extermina. Unum pluribus todo defata vihilum sin serpente. (Maquina es todo.)
Delibertae humanus espirite…experiencia diferente para todo mundo dependente
circumstancia infinitum. Absurdum, expirata, reparta…
Iactae est infernum recordum philosphicum tractatus de romana biblioteque.
Entrata me encantata pratoriae phenomena tan quibi te placum infernum. Instigate
eliminate, para mundo inter como rectum. Regalia para nata restate eroticae. En
excelsis inspirata en anima determina unum moviento desperate vihilum. Inferata
literata escritata en estrella…Inequitable cele noche pero linguiste retractum
hace colorum en denada, espacio y lectorum. Si no dinero es importante todo
destructivo meticodum ninos offensiva mi papas. Los todo preferum realiste de
importante visual. La garbaje nihilismo es passive infernum. Restorum de placa
en mansione paradiso. Pero la ninos separate con dium en eternitum. Latina
comida y casa deliverum paradiso. Pero autorum lo siento para todo en infernum.
Protectiva casa en las montanas cuando cele restorum de todo comida. Si nunca
ninos de serpentine en agau. Para mi dium en manera nunca sin respecta o
destructive la apparati. Eliminare todos daninos en mi cabesa destructivo
originum. Recitum inequitae versimilito recibir encante delibertum. En esposa
future nunca todo passé esposa infernum. La separte lengua desparte inequitum
eternitum para noche todo dium dia practicum tiempo melodium. Ferrum noche en
espana pax de nada la terra. Excelsis reparata fumo future consfesiva
delibertum. Manera es complicare en mi cabesa para eternum deliverum. Estrella
que felice en resposa practicum laudere magnificum. Todos noches en regis para
sobre cele delirium. En escrite palabram canto en la infernum contracte Diablo.
Resortum murium todo en resposa deliverum. Esparatum con revilum grabis noche
esparte delivere pax en manera. Ferroce cele que retortum cuando tiempo cerca
feraca Diablo passé en Christe desparte. Deliverum reparata dema dias es cierto
nunca. Retorte quibus nacht en la feroce conjugare estrella ferum de la
illuminae febrous depende en cele o immanente determinum. Responiva todo humanus
vida en resposa sin infernum. Preparada los ninos de Diablo considerable
encantum pax sin todo resposa dia divisor paradise y la febrosa tractatus.
Recibir inequitum para humanus deliverum autorum. Sans passé tempora o proviso
accepte falso entiende departum. Resposa nunca dium para amore facil responsive
cierto noche sin la inequitum humanus. Apparati confusivo especialmente requirum
(chastity) para eternum craetae la humanus separate para dio eternitum. Eroticae
es returnum en el pasada gnoso felite en tiempo palatial nada para deliverum sin
me debris. Si recibir para transgresivo metodica sin mi constructive eternitum
noche es favorita para avia es nunca recordata en libra cerca. Cuando noche es
un un dium apparati continuum para eternum sin autorum o con autorum confesiva
repetitium es pax en animae. Entiende esta noche cuando dia es deliverum en
resposa esta palabra dificil impresario musicum anterior regalia todo (servants)
de Regis Christe. Musica de azure es magus para espana y provincial Latina.
Tractata en mi encanta para servicio de papa. En durante escuelo matematica
limitum noche referential de repetiva para todo memorium. Espara pax en todo
mundo sin respartate practicum viaje cerca preparada encontrate que desposa
inequitum. En cantable restorum exclusive de eroisa maquina reparare hace
derecho descubriendo para los espasos recuerdos. En regalia modela ferocia la
instinta en reparata comica en despartate futurum. En terminate que le cele es
la todo resparte. Delata la resposa passé intrepretiva sin contesta con ninos
diablos. Resposa deliverum en infernum para cerca contracta. Imposible aparati
cuando repare felicidad. Todos noches en mi escrite febrous y inequitum humanus
todo con feminine en cierto sin respa. Intentivo es deliciosa para interim es
preparade tranquila distancia internum impracticum. Terminata es imposible
contracte diablos sin gustave quid felice en modesta craete. En montanas,
desierto, en espana tranquilidad. Para godiva resurectum en la animus pax
humanus deliverum purgatum en vuelve sin comprate omnipotencium…Vindicatum en
resparte en recordum deliverum nacht requiem. En excelsis que requirem en felice
eroticae. En felice practicarae el nino invierno deliverum. Esposa en estrella
es un todo maquina. Para la tracta en esotericum deliverata pax. En felice en
esposa tranquila respartum. La monstrosito en biblio apocraphio…
Sacfiricae en alterum la responsum en tractate. Manera protective en apparati
deliverum requirem. En un todo nunca para mana deliverum. En iglesia separativa
practicarum continuram en fictiva mediate possibilidad. Que colorum en respata
restorum deliverum confesiva en el todo mundo. En la passé todo communicative en
falso demoincae. En espirite en excelsis reparata felicite. Despartata mundo
nata en lenguarum et que le fin. En restorum deliberate en poeta epica. Requiem
todo comprende y mi todo familia y descubriando en excelsis reparata inequitum.
Continuare en esposa en el future deliverum. En la casa de sabor de nino vide
regis mundo todo. En familia exista preparando en eternum encantum. Regis noche
en la infernum en la manera—mundo todo. Nunca abandonate en traverse tribularum
o practicum—Cuando descbriuando inequita de la padre restorum—pero recordum en
todo histora con inequitum. Deliberata diferencias en la umbra. Umbrae de
sacrificae y la traverse competiva comedium. Patiente requirata nunca patiente
initiative. Pero possible demonstrate todo pictorum mitologica. En la casa
nerviosa verificata actividados con Papacy. En espirite deliquenata no me gusta
falsa dium de mundo y me libro esta importante pero me anima es muy celoso de
factuale desparta. En un todo de memorium es honesta en comica—Pero me memoria
es un todo cuando virtua restorum. Retracta deleta en mi picture de la todo o
convictum. En la rasa diablos todo nunca memorium de espirite. Demand todo de
picture instantamente o el falso distracta. La pictura de pantera es murio pero
me instrumente donatum…
Patrae domine aria en recite quorae denata resparta en lacrae delatorum. Ex
nacht torum en manera espirata encantato recitum. En cele escrite todo humanus
restorum. Muerte en Diablo para todo en dium entiende eternum. Recibire en
regalia preferable sin inequitem. La resposa de dium es patiente para humanus
deliverum nombre para descubriendo. Si la distracta es amore de personas sin
nunca muerte para entiende Christe nino. Todo feminine en future de autorum es
bonita y replaca cele con immaculatum para virgino mama. Christe: Que reparata
la inequitem de animae sutorum presente con desirable muriom todo para offensiva
narrator? Dante: Si, entiende mi dio la personas confusion, para possible en la
iglesia todo protective mundo absurdum rationale. Espirite: Respartate en felice
irreperata inequite. Inebriate que relata en esposa resparta. En manera de la
cele sacrilege media. La todo nacht en la estrella nunca memorium actore de
nacht. Que felice con Aphrodite en la todo resparta. En un umbra de la falmbe
vampire muerte todo eternitum. En la rosa me vasa en me cantata de la endora
finalmente todo suffere eternitum con los todos en biblia Jezebel este muerte
para eternum infernum. En mi esposa es finalmente para abandon con papa. En las
ninas con musica nunca dium requiem. Mi familia de estudiare en la norte dium
para mi. En mi contracra en la pintura es la finalmenta hora de eternitum.
Desierto de demonica es destructivo pero nunca deceptivo dium. En la sciencias
(consumer) todo para eternum mucho sufferere para attempte de me manera siete
tiempos y revista todo eliminum para recordum y deceptum la todo familia en
mundo casas de dium. En resparte de deliverum en escrite todo nunca estudium. La
mirate de finalmente Diablo con returnum devorum nunca returnum mundo para
decepte la autora. Para destructive me todo casas en la suportiva mucho
confusion gendera. Deliverum en la nacht de infernum para decepta casas mundo.
En la manera nunca returnum dium casa deliverum flambé. En la mira todo noche
para estrella estudium para eternitum. Con esposa de Diablo deliverum nino
deceptum todo en el mundo. Excorcista es importante cuando recibir espirite de
vampira. En escrite de gobierno destructivo falso religion. En me visita la
coruptiva capital en falso objetas replaca trinitum. Sin me icon de eternum
nunca comprenda secretiva de Christe sin mundo. En la manera mucho vino grante
mucho feminine en el dium deliverum con architectura de estrellas con la rasas y
deliverum mucho calorum en el cele la exclusive para nunca sacrificia todo el
Christe es no importante sabor es compasivo para replaca con idols. Para dio
amore mundo, el poner nino solamente, que todo personas entiende nunca muerte
pero recibir vida eternal. Deliverum me musica de la mentor en estrella eternum
para continuum habitation sin compana todo deceptive en la habitation para
deliverum consumptive de la casas de todo deceptum. Recibum en cerca de
finalmente todo filosofica, de nino amore la escuela en manera Paradiso para
nunca returnum hace completa perspective de vide eternum. Esposa en passé es
bonita pero no completa traditione Latina. Jesu Christe depletiva la autorum
todo cuando la Diablo es establise en infernum sufferere solamente todo eternum
infinitum o terminate. Esposa futurum es bonita pero nunca passé familia la
iglesia porque la mundo dium es compasivo en patrae solo. El es cierto nunca
respetiva autorum recibir espirite todo dium, todo hora y todo pardone. La
patrae de Italia es Regis para la eternitum. La expletive en infernum epirite
lactae. Nueva patrae es recibir la trinitum para pardone mucho manera en autorum
delirium y flambe con flambe es pax en la eternum requiem. Si manera recibe en
felice eternum, mundo otro feminine ideal sin returnum Paradiso. Autorum
descubriendo mucho ellas en vida pero la craeta es todo importante. Ellas sin la
autorum amore innocent mucho pero vida es vive con permission (granted).
Recuerdo ellas con amore future (accept) sin (remorse) o celoso espirite. Si la
santa en passé es immaculate y tu cercas es dificil conjugar—Ellas escritas
amore la autorum sin sensitive o con compasivo porque nunca mundo resolve
problemas subjective, comida otro, (masculine) apparati y opinion de buenos
“diablos” escrites. (O feminine sin la rasa inequitem.) Accept la sacrificae con
passé dium sin dictate ellas vidas. Christe approve de cerca finalmente con
ellas todo bien. Insignifica para todo restorata en autoritaria regis. Perfecte
mucho en phenomena restorata. En estrella que felice en el todo universal.
Practicarum en deliberate todo apparati. En resparum nada gusta infernum
deliberta. En mundial me restorum pacifica Christe perfecto, todo mundial
fragmente. Que nosotro en repsosa recuerdo vide todo. En excelsis noche
deliverum Francis. Impresario nombre sacrae protectorum. Pax en rata requirum
nada en un familia. Deliverum mi casa de madre en manera. Restorum de espirite
que felice deliverum maniqua. En regalia deliverum en recordum estrella. Mutual
en respite mi nueva compana eternum. En sufferata me familia muerte protective
en contracta restorum. En preparum en eternum significa en me cele celebrate en
eroticae regalia. Resparata en mi familia delata deliberta. Em infernum eternum
deliberta. Nunca todo la felice en restorum aparati. En mi espirite divisor.
Deliberata fenomenata en resposa delerata. En excelsis dium craeta en el mundo
deliverta. En excelsis requiem. En regalia regis denata illuminata mundial.
Reparanda en denata preparanda significa. Quorum regata subtracticum. Que felice
en esposa significa. En un todo resparata el deliverta. Patrae eternum, patrae
manera deliverum iqualmente significa…
Escrite: Viaje cercas solamente sin compana o comprende locale. Sin descubriendo
la familia en mundo refactorum es todo amore, el recibir espirite con cuatro o
cinco. Gustar cerca sin finalmente con musica. Para la transgressions con
completa y recibum mas vide con mas aggression. En la umbra de Christe eternum
continuum para eternum sin completa o pasigana con (advantage of escape.) Sin
comprende todos otros con la carta, celsoso espirite sin materials es mucho
triste y impatiante…
REFRAIN
Sun’s own radiance of faint light
Then did you shine on a golden day’s might
Like the minds’ eye coming from a stream
A man in full armor running in full steam
He was stirred by the brother
Like an eagle, he flew above her
Beaming at our gates of hell
Fighting with men and dragons as well
As he did cry conquest abroad
His fate was not admired by God
He faced his opponent, both dying spear to spear
His name is remembered year after year
Many the wonders but nothing
Stranger than man can this world bring
The sea in winter’s storm I sing
Makes paths through roaring waves of the king
The birds he snares and leads
Wild beast tribe that dances and bleeds
The salty brood of sea with its reeds
And the clever man with all of his deeds
He controls with craft the beasts of open air
Language and thought leave nothing more to bear
He has taught himself shelter from the coldest stare
He faces no future and is helpless to repair
There’s only death he cannot escape now
He’s beyond all cure from which we allow
Clever beyond all dreams, he will bow
He honors laws to give and endow
Fortunate whose lives have no test of pain
Because there are those shaken up by God
They escape no kind of doom
The waves of the sea beat and applaud
Ancient the sorrow of this house is known
Dead men’s grief returns to fall on grief
No generation can free the next
There is no escape from despair’s thief
So now the light goes out
On the man’s house whilst the knife
Severs the remaining root
The remaining root of life
Any greatness in human life brings misery
Man knows nothing until he walks into the flame
The bad becomes the good
When the spell of fear is always the same
Love is unconquered in fight
You rest in the bosom of light
You cross the sea
Madness enough for me
You twist the minds of the just
You lure us all into lust
You made this quarrel of the kindred now
Desire is clear from a bride’s own bow
No man can fight against those at play
I’m carried beyond all bounds of the day
With praise as your reward you will go
With fame you travel to vaults of dead below
Alone among mortals will you descend
In life to the House of Death in the end
Fate has terrible power
Rage at God for an undefined hour
As the terror of madness drives you to fear
The God of this world will not come near
Dark are the eyes that avenge father and mother
She should have known that she could not save her brother
Like Cleopatra also the princess of an ancient house
Truth is Antigone leaves behind her spouse
Seen in glaring flame, high on the mount
Seen by more than numbers count
The town will be saved in honor to her
Leader in dance of fire pulsing star’s blur
Child of God be manifest
The cry is heard by the blessed.
Our happiness depends on wisdom all the way
God must have his ultimate due today
Great words of men of pride
Bring greater blows upon them when they hide
Wisdom comes to the old…
“I never wanted it to end this way, my love, my darling.”
--Ozzy
“...as (the disciples) sailed (Jesus) fell asleep. When a squall came down on
the lake the boat started taking in water and they found themselves in danger.
So they went to rouse him saying, ‘Master! Master! We are going down!’ Then he
woke up and rebuked the wind and the rough water; and they subsided and it was
calm again. He said to them, ‘Where is your faith?’”
--The New Testament
EPILOGUE
A SONNET FOR DIANE AND PERSEPHONE
Their new wheel spinning is a joy to choose
It is far before that which will vanish
I fear the worst for those that always lose
Creep to me my fear of death and joy banish
Still deaden birth or love again rings
And with my penance I will ignore frost
Will windows leave an open wound for my stings
set a circle guide us lost
drink from Hades wrath
ablaze a gorgeous wonder steal
set down into icy bath
gone are the days of real
Now in Hades run from the ever new fear
And drink from thirsty eyes when aqueer.
About the Author:
Up and coming novelist Aaron Sheley makes his first venture into this world and
the next by illuminating and predicting Dante’s Purgatory in this book Paradise
Faust. His other projects include a variety of motion picture scripts, film
criticism and cinema production. However, here is the first of his novels, which
wasn’t easy to write—but a whole lot of fun. After his free time of saving the
world via his internet connection (contacting all three branches of gov’t to
make the world a better place) and now the only reward he wants now is to find
the “real” Whore of Babylon and screw her…hopefully with the help of Cornell
Grad and High School Teacher Matt Crowe. Of course, they will have to find a way
to annul Aaron’s divorce agreement first!
CRITICISM FOR Paradise Faust
“Once again, Aaron Sheley has constructed a madcap, phantasmagoric wonder-world
built upon the furthest reaches of logic, absurdity, devious imagination, and
deconstructionist philosophy gone awry. Like a latter-day Philip K. Dick, Sheley
delights in conjuring up and ossifying universes based on his own singular and
warped perspective of this outrageous dreamscape that the rest of us refer to as
reality…and then slowly obliterates them…to the great satisfaction of the reader
himself. Passion, purity and profundity are the cornerstones of ‘Paradise
Faust.’"
--Mathew Klickstein NOVELIST/SCREENWRITER
