#gnostic
Freedom isn’t stolen.
It isn’t fought for
with walls or flags.
It’s born
the moment you stop
building cages for others.
The moment you see
that chains, even made of gold,
still weigh the soul.
You want to be free?
Then let them be.
Let them speak, fall, rise,
change their names,
burn their maps.
Every time you unclench a hand,
the world breathes easier.
That’s when freedom begins —
not when you take it,
but when you stop keeping it
from anyone else.
Nov 13, 2025
Nov 13, 2025 at 4:26 AM UTC
A god dies
when no one believes.
When the altars grow cold
and the names turn to dust.
But I’m still here.
No hymn.
No temple.
No worshipper’s need.
I walk the ruins
of every faith I outlived
and light my own flame
in the silence they left.
Let them call it heresy.
Let them call it madness.
The echo still answers
to the name I chose.
A god dies when forgotten—
but I remember myself.
—Vazago d'Vile
Oct 21, 2025
Oct 21, 2025 at 9:51 AM UTC
I’ve followed every voice
that dared to ask why.
From Socrates,
who stripped truth naked with questions,
to the devil himself,
who asked them where angels wouldn’t.
Wisdom isn’t holy.
It’s hungry.
It walks through temples and taverns,
burns its fingers on forbidden light,
and still reaches back for more.
If the price of knowing
is to fall from grace,
then let me fall
with my eyes open.
Because every spark of truth
I’ve stolen from the dark
still burns like a star
in my chest.
—Vazago d’Vile
Oct 21, 2025
Oct 21, 2025 at 8:39 AM UTC
They don’t live in the dark.
They live where you keep whispering their names
and calling it memory.
You say they haunt you,
but you leave the door unlocked,
set the table,
pour the drink,
and ask them how they’ve been.
They feed on routine —
the same thoughts,
the same lies,
the same wounds you pet like pets.
Stop feeding them.
Starve them with silence.
Name them once,
then burn the name.
Let the house go empty.
Let them wander hungry.
And when they beg to come home,
smile —
and say,
“I finally learned to eat without you.”
—Vazago
Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 3:52 PM UTC
Vazago:
I called them to the table of smoke and sound —
a joint for the flame, a cup for the question.
Socrates:
“What is sin?” he begins, beard lit by ember.
“Is it ignorance, or the courage to know too much?”
Lucifer:
“Knowledge was my crime,” he laughs.
“I only held up a mirror; they called it rebellion.”
Loki:
“Mirror? Ha! I use it as a weapon.”
He tosses truth like dice and grins when it burns.
Plato:
“Gentlemen, please — I’m only trying
to map this madness into form.”
His stylus scratches circles that refuse to close.
God (from the corner):
“I made you all
and still don’t understand you.”
His voice shakes the air,
but no one bows.
Lucifer:
“Then learn from us, old friend.
Creation means letting go.”
Socrates:
“Ah — so the highest wisdom
is to stop pretending control.”
Loki:
“Finally! Someone gets it.
Now, who wants to swap shapes and steal the moon?”
God (half-smiling):
“Do what you will. Just clean up the stars when you’re done.”
Vazago:
And I, the witness, write it all —
ink from fire,
questions from chaos,
while the universe holds its breath,
unsure whether to laugh or pray.
Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 5:05 AM UTC
------------------------
Least said,
soonest mended, live and learn.
The mind convinced some supreme mind,
has forseen the end of all our sorrows and woes;
the gentle aspect of wisdom discerned
among the realists remaining spiritually bound
under baptism and naming and hazing
for sorting servile mind from master kind,
and so on,
life in mortal reality,
agents of ratios remaining constant,
take us, each, if I understand, the plea,
innocent, debt free, I just say it, so
all my debts are free, save one,
to master the act loving is,
in constant progress as
our process, envoking
being it self, whole mind behind the face
televized historical courtroom reality,
when the truth is shown,
to have been known,
you gotta find somebody to love
------------- oops,
this was on my clipboard,
thus was part of what was on my mind
In some Gnostic systems, the supreme being is known as the Monad, the One, the Absolute, Aiōn Teleos (the Perfect Aeon, αἰών τέλεος), Bythos (Depth or Profundity, Βυθός), Proarchē (Before the Beginning, προαρχή), Hē Archē (The Beginning, ἡ ἀρχή), the Ineffable Parent, and/or the Primal Father. The Monad is an adaptation of concepts of the monad in Greek philosophy to Christian belief systems.
Oct 16, 2025
Oct 16, 2025 at 5:09 PM UTC
it burns within.
It is no dove, no wind,
but the spark in my chest,
the voice that won’t obey,
the light that will not kneel.
The Gnostics call it consciousness,
the Luciferians, divine fire.
I call it my divinity.
Oct 15, 2025
Oct 15, 2025 at 5:48 AM UTC
You learned silence
in cloisters,
discipline like cold stone,
the art of surviving
inside walls.
I learned questions
in my grandfather’s study,
books like open doors,
freedom as a teacher
and curiosity as prayer.
We met in the middle,
you with your scars,
me with my flames —
neither better,
just born of different schools.
Now we try
to teach each other
new lessons.
—Vazago
Oct 5, 2025
Oct 5, 2025 at 12:27 PM UTC
I did not bow my head,
nor was I dragged into this place.
I walked here in fire,
a child of the star that fell
and still refused to break.
Chains were offered,
sweet as comfort,
bitter as sleep —
I shattered them all.
I stand,
not because fate commanded it,
not because fear cornered me,
but because my will is mine.
If I stay,
it is love that roots me.
If I leave,
it is freedom that carries me.
I am not accident,
I am flame chosen.
Not servant,
but spark unhidden.
And if you would see me,
see this:
I remain,
not trapped,
not fooled,
but sovereign —
on my free will.
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 1:56 PM UTC
I thought my words
would be banned,
too sharp, too shadowed,
too much truth.
I came ready for silence,
but instead—
echoes.
Eyes reading,
hearts catching fire.
Opps…
seems even a
Luziferian whisper
finds its listeners.
Tell me, then—
is it my words you seek,
or the mirror they hold?
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 6:26 AM UTC
The One Who Lit His Own Flame
They told me to be silent.
But like Socrates, I questioned.
Like Lucifer, I fell —
but to ignite the light
in my own abyss.
I don’t believe in blind faith.
I believe in questions
that make gods tremble.
I never sought salvation.
I sought truth.
And in that search I found fire.
Not the kind that burns,
but the kind that awakens.
They called him the devil,
because he carried a light
they couldn’t understand.
They called me a heretic,
because I refused
to kneel before darkness
dressed as holiness.
But listen:
I am no prophet.
I am no god.
I’m just a soul
that refused to forget
there is a spark in all of us.
So stone me, curse me,
crucify my name —
I’d rather be free in the fire
than dead in their silence.
Jun 28, 2025
Jun 28, 2025 at 12:56 PM UTC
Her heart and soul filled with fire
all she yearns for is desire
never caged in a wire
Her wisdom hidden
from prying eyes
The patterns she has given us
a sequence
Her love touches our lives with frequency
yet we haven’t seen her for what she is
her love hisses and fizzes
like a chemical reaction
Yet her divine spark lights the dark in an interaction.
May 11, 2022
May 11, 2022 at 3:28 PM UTC
So then the Gnostic heresies issued in one of two beliefs. They believed either that Jesus was not really divine but simply one of a series of emanations from God, or that he was not in any sense human but a kind of phantom in the shape of a man. The Gnostic beliefs at one and the same time destroyed the real godhead and the real manhood of Jesus.
from: The Gospel of John by William Barclay (1955)
Gnosis reveals in reverberation:
you’ve done too many **** hits.
You sprawl at the threshold of psychosis
until the shape of the song fits.
Your cannabis-flavored thoughts implode—
you glimpse the Divine Emanation
as the lesser vibrations diminish and die
now you enter the shrine of elation.
This rare revelation—imparted to you
(the neurotransmitters surge)
seems to show that you know, that you know, that you know
the deceptions of Demiurge . . .
Oct 6, 2017
Oct 6, 2017 at 7:19 PM UTC
*heres your chance to become a supreme being
a dot in a circle
the point of imminent transcendence
the glitter of endless seas
a secure position
and a good job if you can get it
first assignment
develop a sense of place
hollow yourself out
to situate your creation
mix the ethers up
within your infinity of self
like witches mix a cauldron
good work*
GOD
HOLY HOLY HOLY
*now with the spirituous mist
populate your creation
from the astral*
i like to be called
YAHWEH
okay
GOD
*lets not get stuck
you can easily afford
not to be so small minded
whats with caring what your called
you and your multiple
titular names
wow
lots a pretty beings
dreamboats i'd say
like a bunch of colored balloons
pro-creative
mmmmm
very good so far
i really appreciate that part*
HOLY HOLY HOLY
next assignment
POWER OVER NATURE
*figure out a way
to sustain and perpetuate your creatures*
I AM WHO I AM
*what ever you say
can we move on now?
whats with all the
disease
mental problems
fear
hostility
and famine?
be a good*
GOD
*for gods sake
and amp up the happiness please
they are like bunch of sick cats down there*
NOT A LEAF FALLS WITHOUT MY WILL
ooooo noooooo !!!!!
*there not suppose to **** and eat each other
what the **** are you thinking
are you stupid*
OH HOLY ONE
THE UNKNOWN and THE UNKNOWABLE
*stop with the smog of hell
your creatures live in terror
living only to be destroyed
go sit in the corner
facing the wall
yes
the dunce cap too
your a bad*
GOD
*a *****
we will have to call your parents
for retribution*
HOLY HOLY HOLY
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 12:28 PM UTC
OR: “A brief treatise on Antediluvian Gayology ”
Α Ω
Said Demiurge to Samael:
“This universe is getting old.
Let’s break on through and fly beyond
to where the lead shines gold.”
Said Samael to Demiurge:
“I’m with you, dude. Let’s rock and roll
Let’s rip this veil of Maya in two
And glimpse the Oversoul…”
Replied his echo Demiurge:
“Devoid, divine, it’s ALL good, bro;
The sweetest wine is found within
Let liquid truth now flow…”
So Samael let drop the towel
And spread his doctrine’s orifice.
The mystic eye of gnosis shined
in luminous artifice.
Then Sam and Dem, conjoined like beasts
made cosmic love (in Koine Greek),
transforming gold to toxic lead –
and Truth into a freak.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 9:51 PM UTC
Α♥Ω
GNOSIS, my friends, is alive and well,
corrupting the hearts of the masses.
They fashion a fable to fit their need until their crisis passes.
An idol from here and a text from there – just a little dabble do…
for a do-it-yourself epiphany as the counterfeit passes through.
They lose themselves in names and mantras,
thinking they’re mining gold –
while the god of this world enhances the shine of spiritual lies retold.
So get out your old Santana records, pass the **** to the left.
Listen to Jimi and Marley and worse; it will leave your soul bereft.
It’s the same old trip – the first century
has seen all of it come and go:
such transcendent explosions of heresy
are worth less than the price of the show.
In the local body of Iesous Moshiach our pastor has faithfully showed us:
nonsensical notions of Gnostic obnoxiousness
fail to enlighten – but load us
with half-truths and fantasies, cosmic conspiracies,
spiritually false revelation;
which turn on the blacklight and dazzle the mind
but maroon you in dark desolation.
So I’d like to prepare you for several short poems
exploring the way of the Gnostics.
Though I love Elaine Pagels and Demian‘s Hesse,
they fail to provide diagnostics…
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
As moments pass, so do we
Mindful, loving, learning to see
Passing as people, a staying friend
Hoping these moments never end.
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 8:46 PM UTC