Posted in Diary on 08/11/2022 by GeoSolus

“We all have grains of madness mixed in with the sand in the hourglass of our existence.”

In Absence

Posted in Visual Art, Writing with tags , , , , , on 07/11/2022 by GeoSolus

The night belonged to hymn. A gentle song ushering the son to rise.

Little Sister

Posted in Writing with tags , , , , on 06/11/2022 by GeoSolus

I will get in to your head

Take your bleeding heart

Set you on a course

That you cannot depart

I set these words in motion

As a warning

Not a dare

I tried to give you a direction

And you returned with a blank stare

I told you not to climb

To the point of no return

But you will not listen

I told you at the top

You will only crash and burn

Yet you remain persistent

I guess that you’re a child

Who doesn’t want to be a kid

I guess you’ll learn the hard way

Like I did


Posted in Diary on 05/11/2022 by GeoSolus

It is important to keep accounts and to hold people accountable for their actions. There are no exceptions to this. The individual has to lead by example and not tolerate the willfully ignorant.

Organic Orgasmic Origami

Posted in Writing with tags , , , , , , on 04/11/2022 by GeoSolus

Free fools

Three words

And paper cuts

Enigmatic Twist

Posted in Writing with tags , , , , , , , on 03/11/2022 by GeoSolus

I can feed your illusions

Alleviate the confusion

With a sweet taste of fantasy


I can shroud you in darkness

Force you to cry and confess

With a promise of ecstasy


I can make you wish

I can make you believe

I can make you steal

I can make you deceive

But that’s not the way

I love


Posted in Diary with tags on 02/11/2022 by GeoSolus

“To perceive the real within the virtual machine, one must take a step back from the screens in order to view the obvious. For the machine: the screen is a means of projection. The machine itself is a tool in unseen hands.”

He Who Never Smiles

Posted in Writing with tags , , , , , , on 01/11/2022 by GeoSolus

There’s a melancholic madness

Behind this virtual facade

Where intimacy in its infancy

Is exploited by the mad

There’s an artificial intellect

Whose copies are near infinite

Collecting pieces of the past

Insuring nothing can be intimate

And so he watches

And observes

With facial features carved like stone


If this is what the world is now

Then it’s best to be alone

As obsolete adolescents

Simply refuse to let go

Of their obsessions built in infancy

That they loop and then watch grow

Simple minds in ageing bodies

With all their trophies on a shelf

Feel no guilt as the guilty

Watch their pleasures and themselves

Thir Námhan (First Draft)

Posted in Writing with tags , , , , , , on 31/10/2022 by GeoSolus

Candles were lit as a romantic gesture while the fruit of the union was laid upon the alter in preparation for sacrifice.

This was to be a gift for egos who wanted far more than they deserved and who were prepared to do anything to get it. Thus the blood of the innocent was to be spilt for them to feel sated.

The sacrifice was a boy still far from manhood. Drowsy from the effects of distilled spirits and unaware of his intended fate.(…)

When the blade in his father’s hand rose above his beating chest, it glinted in the candle light and in that instant he thought he could see a shining star. A star that brought darkness as he slipped unconscious.

Blood ran in rivulets down his ribcage as the mother called for servants to prepare the boy for the flame. The servants approached the dying boy, lifted him gently then left in silence while his parents embraced each other in order to initiate sexual intercourse.

The boy was carried to an illuminated room, in the centre of which was a long rectangular shaped table, topped with stainless steel and behind which stood a hooded figure wearing a surgical mask. With a gesture of the hand, the figure ushered the servants to come forward then opened their arms to present the table before them. The servants placed the boy upon the cold stainless steel, making the boy display the slightest of shivers.

The hooded figure looked down upon the him with large amber eyes and with a warm androgynous voice said: “I am here to save you my boy.”

Translated from the shadows.


Posted in Diary on 20/10/2022 by GeoSolus

A drug fueled depression forced upon humanity by a handful of psychopaths is now being overshadowed by nuclear spear rattling. I conclude that the word: elite, has never been more misappropriated than in this era.