About people - poems and stories from Jason Krueger.

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(C) Jason Krueger/DT^FDM                                        
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(м) Midisoft/ЕМ^FDM                                             
                                                                
 Articles for this issue was created with 
            moral support by:             
                                          
                                          
Ragnarok "Arising Realm"                  
                                          
            Dimmu Borgir "Stormblast"     
                                          
Therion "Theli"                           
                            
            Satyricon "The Shadowthrone"  
                                          
Bal Sagoth "Starfire burning..."          
                                          
            Slayer "Diabolus in Musica"   
                                          
Wagner "Loehngrin"                        
                                          
            Mortician "Zombie Apocalypse" 
                                          
Immortal "Blizzard Beasts"                
                                          
            Obituary "The End Complete"   
                                          
Dimmu Borgir "Spiritual Black Dimensions" 
                                          
            Samael "Passage"              
                                          
Paradise Lost "Shades Of God"             
                                  Marduk "Nightwing"            
                                          
Burzum "Det Som Engang Var"               
                                          
            Kreator "Outcast"             
                                          
Cradle of Filth "From Cradle то Enslave"  
                                          
            Burzum "Hlidskialf"           
                                          
DarkThrone  "Total Death"                 
                                          
            Samael "Passage"              
                                          
Abigor "Channeling the Quintessence of..."
                                          
            Behemoth "Satanica"           
                                          
Enslaved  "Eld"                           
The Kovenant"Animatronic"    
                                          
Nokturnal Mortum "That's the Gates of...      
                                          
            Borknagar "Archaic Curse"     
                                          
Lord Belial "Enter the Moonlight Gates"   
                                          
            Emperor "Anthems then the..."   
                                          
                                          
                                          
 "Overwhelmed by horror and trembling, I looked at everything
                        deeper and deeper and finally saw...     
                        I saw the whole throne covered with gold from    
                        human feces, and on it with a grin  
                        smug cretin and dressed in   
                        a shroud of soiled hospital sheets 
                        the one who calls himself the Creator was seated!"
                                                                
                             Lautreamont,"Songs of Maldor" II -8
                                                                
                                                                
                                                                
                                                                
 "Death! Old captain! Set sail quickly!
                   We are bored of this region! O Death, hurry up!
                   Let he6o and water be where ink is blacker,     
                   Know that our chest sparkles with thousands of suns!   
                                                                
 Reveal your depths to deceived swimmers!      
                   We thirst, having surveyed everything that is under the sun,  
                   To dive to your bottom - Hell or Heaven - one! -  
                   B the unknown depths, so that the new o6pectb! "      
                                                                
                             Charles Baudelaire, Flowers of Evil.          
                                                                
                                                                
                                                                
   The moment I stepped into the reading room
library hall, all hours in this clock-
the belt showed three twentyfive and
outside the window the gray winter storm raged pathetically
day. The library was crowded - not a single
a lot of free space.                    
                                          
   I sighed in disappointment.              
                                          
   The librarian, a fat old woman with a huge
Noah wart on the cheek, briefly examined
and called me over.                  
                                          
 “Take me,” she offered melancholy
she, dropping to the floor the baggy dress in which
Roe could well be dressed in cold
dilnik.                                  
                                          
   I looked into the hall. Sleek intellectuals
sat hysterically at neat tables,
having laid out books in front of him with absolutely
blank pages.  Jaws of visitors
creaked rhythmically, chewing a complete
existence of information.                       
                                          
   Without a dress, the librarian looked pre-
Quite picturesque.  She looked like a Christmas tree
from a New Year's card, only instead of a dream-
layers of married paw-branches layered across it
amorphous fat. If not for the huge brown-
new nipples, I would never be able to guess
give which skin fold it is
considers it his breasts. I also saw sprouts
steel cubes, in search of warmth, love and
lightsmaking their way down her back.       
 
 - Will you explain to me how to kiss correctly? 
 - I suggested.                                      
   
 - Exactly. - Her voice drowned out the fun    
the murmur of foamy rivulets of sweat running
at the bottom of the deep wrinkles that were scattered
all over her body. She hadn't washed in 14 years.    
                                          
   I took it.                             
                                          
   Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
                                          
   ...what a stupid wallpaper here...          
                                          
   Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.


                                          
   You could hear something creaking in it,
as if my dick is being made to move by someone
a piston or shaft hidden in the darkness of its power -
whose, but unwashed three-dimensionality. Throughout the whole
Apparently, that’s how it was.                       
                                          
   Finally I released my grip and squeezed out of
its pillow-shaped and sticky, like a pro-  
production of the Wrigleys company, bodies.          
                                          
 - All.                                   
                                          
   She nodded in agreement, pulling out from under 
deskstwenty-liter canister, which  
The second one (I felt it right away) was very bad -
naya karma. It seems that this canister was ava-
Hitler's swarm. We approached one of the visiting
library staff, who enthusiastically read numbers 
there, without a single sign, the page, and the old woman  
began to sprinkle it generously with gasoline, to which
he didn't pay any attention.          
                                          
   The fat that covered the librarian's entire body
shook with her every movement. And, I must 
notice, he shook with knowledge of the matter -  
constantly maintaining a tragic amplitude  
hesitation. I immediately stuck my tongue out at him, but
fat either didn’t notice or was already used to it     
something similar, and therefore continued gloomily-
but wandering under the whitish skin is absolutely 
me without reacting.                         
                                          
   ...Teal! - said the match.             
                                          
   A few minutes later the visitor's body
happily smoking, fell at my feet, and I
took the vacant seat. librarian,
who was the Star Eater, took from
bookcase a thick tome and held out
him to me. Silver Gothic letters you- 
looked promising. "Jorge Luis Nietzsche: 
Anatomy of euphoria" - I read with taste,   
opening the volume.                            
                                          
   Absolutely white, without a single spot   
paperblinded me at first. I was somewhat 
blinked once, smiled and my heart started beating...  
moose faster...                           
                                          
 How much wisdom could a person comprehend?
May this book be written! -       
rapturously reading the blank pages,     
                                 I thought.>
                                          
                                          
 |                                       
                        | Truly, hypocrisy is a funny thing! 
                        | They hate him, despise him, consider him       
                        | unworthy, but it saves the world.   
                        | If 6 everyone knew what exactly they were saying
                        | about him his friends...                   
                        |                                       
                        |                       Jason Krueger.  
                        |                                       
                                                                
                                                                
   Addressing the author of the super-designed 
e-mag ZX-Guide:                          
                                          
   My dear, take the film cassette 
"DonJuan De Marco" by Jarmusch. Take a look.  
Now again... again... and again. Well, you see.
But the plot (you can believe me) is still there
yes. And ForeveR has it too.           
                                          
 |                                       
                        | Confession is an exhibitionist's contact  
                        | with byaepuctom.                         
                        |                                       
                        |                       Jason Krueger.  
                        |                                       
                                                                
                                                                
   Now back to my lover  
passionate brother from Kovrov (a.k.a.    
Ash of the Creator). That's what you, my dear, do-   
What you really know is how to amuse    
sad old decadents like me.  
And not even so much skillful verbal   
battles with the Goblin (I want to pay tribute - 
it was brilliant), so many different kinds  
passages that you pathetically call 
"dark", and which in fact are not   
more than the fruit of the insanity of their authors. I     
I mean the very “poem” that  
You, mop cher, placed it in your HeresY #4,calling it “dark poetry”.    
                                          
   Dear, from this creativity the same 
poetry, like you are a Turkish livestock breeder. Chi- 
melt away, acmeist, you are ours, read...           
                                          
                                          
                                          
                                          
                                          
                                B A M P I R                     
                           By                                   
                                       Midnight Angel          
     Living this terrible existence                          
     in a solitary daze,                                   
     I wander in the tower concentrating                             
     your thoughts on the basic feeling.                            
                                                                
 Original. So what, you can live without-  
existence? And one more thing: we figured it out 6s   
                          You are in yourself. Otherwise you have both numbness and   
                          You are wandering in the tower...                 
                                                                
     In this vast and murderous nightmareI play God to the home ckoty;                              
     controlling their existence                                 
     with a weary and angry hand.                                   
                                                                
 Abstracting from the absolutely moronic
                          metaphors and weird syntax,     
                          I'm skipping this quatrain. U6o deadly 
                          I'm afraid to imagine what I'm doing   
                          the author has angered and exhausted his hand.   
                                                                
     I look down to the provinces                                
     to the quintessence of their girls,                                 
     appealing to corruption;                                      
     for my stain on their flesh.                              
                                                                
 Here. This is already poetic. By the way, what   
                          there is the quintessence of girls. Maybe it's   
 what happens if you squeeze them like 
                          underwear? My friend, you are not a vampire, you are     
                          laundress! And howappeal to corruption?  
                          "Debauchery come!"?  - You need to be careful
                          You've already made fun of yourself, you've worn yourself out -
                          Riley. And what does the stain have to do with it?           
                                                                
                                                                
     And some cruel ghost                                 
     I manifest within the confines of their rooms;                         
     determination doesn't matter                               
     how again I fall into sin.                                 
                                                                
 "Some cruel ghost"... What does it mean?
                          read "certain"? You yourself don’t know how  
                          exactly? This is how the insanity begins...
                          About the construction of sentences I am modest    
                          I’m silent (where am I, a decadent in front of such 
                          a master of fluff).              
                                                                
     And I pierce their fragile arguments                           
     with a deft and merciless blow.                              
 At the moment of creation of the immortalin order to know eternal death.                                
                                                                
 My dear, you know, arguments are a thing    
                          intangible, and therefore pierce them  
                          quite difficult. And even if you allow
                          such a free attitude towards semantics 
                          tics and logic, guess what you have 
                          will it work? - Pierced arguments.    
                          Regarding the last two lines -   
                          due to dementia, I have never understood this esotericism 
                          I know, but I know one thing for sure: in simple    
                          syntactic constructions have the same root
                          It’s better not to use any words.       
                                                                
                                                                
     When I rape their lifeless forms,                     
     essence oozes from my lips                               
     and drips on their ashen breasts,                            
     mixed with tears.                                     
                                                                
 I can well imagine how you can use  
 force a girl; with difficulty, but still  
                          I can imagine the rape of a man  
                          us; theoretically I assume that someone 
                          then he is able to abuse... well, k
                          for example chicken. But here's how to rape
                          forms?! Demiurge, please find out from  
                          the author of this poem about everyone 
                          intricacies of the process. Otherwise, it’s necessary, 
                          in old age to discover your blatant
                          total illiteracy in matters of mutual 
                          gender relations... Shame!..           
                          As for the essence - this is absolutely  
                          it’s rightly said, it can only ooze   
                          existence, - being-in-itself, in language  
                          modern ontology. But the phenomenon  
                          It can’t ooze. No way.              
                                                                
     And I know this is not the last time                              
     when I put them in the ground,                                
     her face distorted with fearI remember it forever.                                 
                                                                
 "Her face distorted with fear"? Whose     
                          "her"? Earth or what? So, and you, respect-   
                          hey, what did you want? There's nothing wrong with her 
                          sticking nasty stuff.                      
                                                                
     Like a coward I retreat to my                             
     disgusting and broken roost                           
     Save yourself forever,                                 
     and the suffering that I generate.                               
                                                                
Can you explain to me which co6ctbehho  
                          the connection between the disgustingness of the roost 
                          and its brokenness. Separated by commas, mop  
                          cher, it was necessary... And what does it have to do with it     
                          this perch? You forgot, you're in the tower 
                          wander!                              
                                                                
                         IVAMPIRE!!!!                           
                                                                
 Indeed... Moreover, probably from   
                          the oldest. Progressive disease
                          Alzheimer's is evident.                   
                                                                
                                                                
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   Like this, my dear Demiurge, having published
just one poem, you've finished it   
a bunch of satanic sins - from self-deception to
unaesthetic.                           
                                          
                       |                                     
  | - Why did you offend the noblewoman?          
  | - Wait, wait... Right up to the tomatoes! 
  |                                     
  |Jason Krueger.        
  |                                     
                                                                
                                                                
   And, by the way, after reading some nonsense 
I clearly imagined Warrax's amusing
the greatest picture: a Satanist, tensely 
thinking about whether to read the newspaper or 
no, and what benefit will this bring to his “I”...
My dear, would you like me to tell you a secret? Abso-  
unselfish actions are inherent    
only for people with schizoid reactions. All- 
altruism, any virtue and    
asceticism is the embodiment of human desires 
whom "I" is. And in the article you published   
this adherent of the Church of Lucifer is actually  
perfectly expounds the philosophy of the small shop
Nikika: “I won’t lift a finger unless I pay- 
"Tyat." Only consider this superhuman-  
chesical...                                 
                                          
   And the last question: why all these pa- 
thematic attacks on Christianity? Respect-
Hey, get off the computer! Function    
modern Christian - light candles 
in church, nothing more. Why does this bother you?
Do you want candles to be lit in your home?
No? Then why do you so selflessly prove
you call that everything is the churchannounced   
Isn't it really a sin? 
tyat". Only consider this superhuman  
chesical...                                 
                                          
   And the last question: why all these pa- 
thematic attacks on Christianity? Respect-
Hey, get off the computer! Function    
modern Christian - light candles 
in church, nothing more. Why does this bother you?
Do you want candles to be lit in your home?
No? Then why do you so selflessly prove
you call that everything that the church announced   
Isn't it really a sin? 
After all, now no one believes in this anyway.   
Better calm down your smart guys from ZX-    
Pilot's. I don’t know whether they believe in whom or    
no, but they stink much more than 
from the priests who appear on TV6. However, not 
I will bore you with my fabrications.  
this time for real:                   
                        Adieu.            
                                          
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