LEFT AND RIGHT HANDS OF THE GOD by Azsacra Zarathustra & Adam Donaldson Powell (feel good fiction books .TXT) 📕

INTRODUCTION:

INVASION OF THE HEART OF AMERICA


All those who were called
lions, eagles, dragons —
in fact were
Invaders of
the Heart of
America.

Secretly —
Covertly —
through the most simple actions —
everyday imperceptible rituals —
they were awaking
Spirit
Known to
No One.

Сruel Wild Spirit —
which went far beyond Order,
Anarchies and Chaos.

We only needed to
stop the Old
Heart.

In the Secret Temple of
New Sacral Arizona heavenly eagles
had been already building Their —
Great Kingdom.

Refined Dance of
Absolute Serpent was joining
with dances of battle anthills.

And when the Eagle of Power
furiously rise to the Sky
and Fiercely Blazed —
the old heart of America
scattered and
disappeared...

Another —
Nobody Unknown Heart! —
Invaded and took
Primordial
Place of the Eternal
Thrill of Life.

Further —
Through the words —
Nothing could be expressed any longer...


PART ONE: POWER OF RIGHT HAND OF THE GOD

RIGHT HAND OF THE GOD: Adam Donaldson Powell
LEFT HAND OF THE GOD: Azsacra Zarathustra


01. RIGHT HAND OF THE GOD:

Это возникало из-за щитов ...
из-за ракет, которых "там" не было сначала,
но которые будут "здесь" в конечном счёте.

Yes, the shields ... humans are born with them,
much as angels are born with wings.
It is propaganda, of course ...
the truth has always been an existential relativity.

Funny ...
They say I am balding ... getting old and senile.
But the truth is that I have always been bald.
I am "Transforma" ... the symbol of the old
empire now fallen.

I am ... the bearer of vision and conscience.
I am ... the judge and the predator.
I am ... the eagle.

We saw it coming, didn't we "Vrebatima"?

I kept silent ... and no one believed you.
But who is laughing now?
Yes, only us ...

The Armageddon was inevitable ...
We needed it, and so we created it.
But it is only illusion ...

Только иллюзия.


02. LEFT HAND OF THE GOD:

No illusions!
No delusions!

We knew only the Truth of Destruction!
We — Über! ... and my one-legged
father taught me only how to kill:

kill Buddha!
kill Hitler!
kill yourself!

my mother — Nothing, but older
and more sorrowful ...

my father — Nobody, but more merciless
and sadder ...

Look: my daughter goes from Emptiness
to Emptiness in order to kill every tear
before her birth:

And now Absence doesn't cry anymore,
Emptiness doesn't spend any more money
on funerals —

that's the Truth of Non-existence!

"Nothing" is my mother —
"Nobody" is my father —
and there are no tears between
them

Nein!


03. RIGHT HAND OF THE GOD:

Левая рука Бога?
Ahh, the left hand of God!
yes, I saw it once: floating
over the Sahara.
Little did I then know that
it was the rosebud of Intervention.
Who could have guessed?
It danced so gracefully, like
Salome's dance of the veils —
stirring up a frenzy of sand
against the windless sky.

I miss the slithering creepy-crawlers
which once tattled the mysteries
of the night. They are long gone;
as are the polar bears, the whales,
the crocodiles, the bees and the sharks.
What have you done, Terrans?
What were you thinking?

Lost in meditations upon finances
and power, you lost sight of the
greatest wealth you owned.
And you crowded only a few
humanoids onto your hastily-built
arks when the floods and dis-ease
ravaged so mercilessly.

Some called it the work of
the antichrist, but the antichrist
was humanity itself: which
had been too long on the rampage
of greed and apathy and imbalance.
You raped and you raped;
and defiled both humanity and
nature.

A barren Terra wails but we
are not comforters Vrebatima.
(nods)
We are merely the scribes
who observe and note the
crimes for future reflection.

Tell me a story Vrebatima,
but allow me to keep my Buddha.
I have nothing else.

Tell me again about the
fires and the tsunamis and
the screaming; and
the fallen Buddha statues.
Поведайте мне Vrebatima ...

сообщите мне!

Break with your emptiness
and violate the nothingness,
Vrebatima.

Tell me about the dried-out
moss on the floors of the
naked forests, and of the
sad Russian lullabies sung
by the dying hummingbirds.
Remind me of the carcasses —
long since picked clean by
crows that had become vultures
out of necessity of survival.
Jog my memory, O Vrebatima:

сообщите мне!


04. LEFT HAND OF THE GOD:

Believe: in the Sacred Rats.
The Execution of the world is —
the execution of a Ritual.

An angel, rushing down,
made a heart-rending cry:
Let rats fuck their daughters;
coin dolls born from the
Dollar —

On the gold of their fathers
fucked in manure ...

Let rats fuck their daughters!
..............................

Power
Power
Power of prices alone —
ascending from the worthless world
to Zero: 0000000000000000000000!

After zeros
(instead of bullets)
only holes are left —

00000000000000000!

There are no more
Great Chinese Walls!
The decay!

The Empire died like
a pitiful trembling
rabbit.

In cash-machines there is
a "share" for each —
the Universe will no more be
rammed through by the hawk.

It's clear now:

God didn't die —
the Will died ...

Der Wille zur Macht?

Nein! —

Das Nichts zur Macht!
Die Leere zur Herrschaft!

0000000000000000000000000!


05. RIGHT HAND OF THE GOD:

I am fucked ... we are all fucked.
The Great Bear is howling in
the Siberian woods —
and Vrebatima has hunger
in her soul — as do I.
Our forefathers were perhaps
foolish to give up the Cold Wars,
to kill Saddam Hussein and
to invade Afghanistan.

I followed the Sacred Rat,
and he deceived me
time and time again ...
fucked me up real good.

As the leading superpowers
we had control — and we
agreed to disagree, making secret
strategies together, for viewing
and consumption by the world.
The people of the world were stupid.
They never understood the farce ...
that every argument and action
was contracted and choreographed.

We provided both excitement and
the security of balance.
But now we have lost our rhythm,
and our equilibrium is shaky at best.

I miss the rat ...

Do you still remember how to
dance Vrebatima?
You used to be so elegant ...
the Prince of Severe Trues.

Let me rest my beak of a griffin near to
you my beautiful predator;
and please caress the feathered
nape of my neck with your
claw — two unlikely lovers
baring resemblance visible
only to the initiated:
of beak and claw, both royalty and
scavengers of the spoils
of imbalance.

Where is Buddha? He has
disappeared from the mountaintop.
And where is Christ? He has
descended from the cross.

(It was cold here on Terra,
and we needed the wood.)
They are both having tea
with Nietzsche, who is
dressed up like a ballet dancer.

Where am I, Vrebatima?
I am lost in my own transformation ...
in the winter of my own samadhi.
Wake me up from my dreams ...
but let me hold onto my illusions
and my delusions.

I need the escape ... I crave the drug.

Maya is heroin for the tired soul.
I am fucked ...
I am ...
I ...


06. LEFT HAND OF THE GOD:

Ich —
Ich bin —
Ich bin Tod —
Ich Tod bin!

I — Vrebatima! Я — Mahakala!
I — Yama! I — Shiva, dancing
only on corpses ...

I — Destroyer of this
too (super-too!) human
Universe!

I — Bhairava, but not rapturous

God Eros —

to hell with sex, Transforma:
Cut off the balls of each
inamorato!

Shoot off the head of each
beautiful doll!

I — des Todes Tod —
I — Clear Death —
I — Clear Death —
The ABSOLUTE OF ATTACKING DEATH!

For: all "people" are riffraff!

For: Transcendence Itself
and He who transcends wants to drink
their blood and shoot them down!

What, Transforma, didn't you
know that?

Didn't you feel the Clearest
Unevitable Essence of Death?

I — DESTRUCTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I — ABSOLUTE SPIRITUAL BREACH!

NO PITIFUL REMNANTS!

In the ass are fucked
only yelping sluts ...

... all soft ottomans
have been shat on by young

pussycats ...

But Nietzsche ordered
to bomb Las Vegas!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


07. RIGHT HAND OF THE GOD:

Funny about the military missile
platforms in space.
Only one-third of them are pointed
to Terra; the rest are pointing
to outer space.
Man is a predator out-of-control;
a soul-virus and a threat
to the whole universe.

I mourn for the aliens who were
tortured and killed by us, in
order to steal their intelligence.
Information we were not ready
to use properly, and which led
to our own demise as a world.

And the Intervention (says the
voice in Transforma's head).
(sighs)

And the damned garbage floating
around in the Terra orbit system ...
as below — so above.

What? Shhhh! (says Transforma
to the voice in his head)

The old USA was a “whore-goddess” ...

a giant golden vagina with penis-like
hairs, hoarding and fucking and
standardizing all in its path.
“In God We Trust, and his name is
Dollar.”

Blah, blah, blah ...
and all that blaehhhh ...
(Transforma laughs hysterically,
then sobs, and hiccups and farts.)

You know, you tell me to
forget about sex ... but
did you know that
I was once fucked by the
finger of the God?
It is true; by the middle finger
of his right hand.

Impaled, like the Spaniards who
were forced by the Incas to sit on
sharpened tree stumps until
their guts exploded... as
punishment for their greed for gold.

Yeah ... (thoughtfully). Impaled.

At my moment of death I saw the
Sky of the Last Days; the Destruction
was a magnificent show:
beautiful pink, orange and purple
skies, with mushroom clouds as far
as the eye could see – and beyond.
And all was so quiet, too;
except for the gentle lullaby that
hummed in my head.

Сладкая колыбельная.
Сон — это спасение... отсрочка.

Sweet lullaby.
Sleep is salvation ... reprieve.

To my left there is a child in
tattered clothing, half-starved and
too resigned to beg anymore ...
and to my right there is
a whirling dervish, spinning
'round and 'round — lost in
his own private ecstasy.
Both are barefoot.

Alas, there is no death ...
only sleep.


08. LEFT HAND OF THE GOD:

Our Amerika