Words of a mad man

I am the stray mutt Persian born with an American spirit who is in desperate need of your aid and wisdom.

My anger: Persia was raped, draped and imprisoned; only to find a soldier who was fit to be a king but not a father—who stripped the last remaining dignity of 2500 years; it's name.

“A funeral dirge for eyes gone blind”: despite all the time, money and efforts spent; “Iranians” watched with blind hope as a stupid prince innocently did the only thing that came natural to him—yield a stupid king.

The reason / confirmation for my callous / vulgar statement: the new king took all the money of the re-claimed land his father fought, bleed and cried for; spent it all on the latest designer war machines, then threw the most famous gathering of it's century. All the leaders of the world were there, watched with awe, as the king stood and stared with grand delusions at Cyrus's tome. While, the country was still starving and fatigued from warfare; the King, in despair, turned back to his guest, with reverence and wonder and sat at his plate, then casually ate. I'm no mind reader but, I'm willing to bet, just about every leaders thought's said, “the plate goes without saying, but, this food belongs in a museum”.

Persia's greatest downfall: manners without limitations or thought. Believe it or not, a Persian can actually make the mistake of stepping into hell instead of Satan; if only, Lucifer was wise enough to say “please … you're in my house now, and I insist”.

The salt that constantly poured on an open wound: Islam watched with shock and horror—as the Queens' IQ towered the Kings'—, and feared the axiom that the woman's spirit is second to none and equal to man, would one day spread it's wings into Mecca.

Spirit of light: not asking or looking for miracles, you see, just something that comes naturally, to every spirit of light who inhabits this world by the greatness of God—freedom. Don't take my words as absolution, just look within and pay attention to the truth you feel—am I lying? If your heart is swollen, there is a reason; one second of freedom, is worth a million years on the fence—let alone, bondage.

The light between darkness and you: any woman who disagrees is reeking of envy; would gladly sacrifice self-rape and bondage—heaven forbid that someone's light may shine brighter. And please don't insult me with your brilliant rebuttal ” … so what do you expect, that I may walk naked in public?” Every form of government, will make laws with balance; to defend. Each must keep rebuilding, towards the light. The ultimate lesson is freedom without government. No spirit of light, is allowed to rule over another; heaven's gate, is only open to those who understand this—welcome to the learning of axioms.

Rags: to make a statement, either fashion or religion, and of any nation, that's fine with me. “To each his own”, that's well understood; especially, when you're in a free world “Iranians”—I get it. But when you impose, I must only wear yours, either subtle, filled with innuendoes of a violent past; or perhaps, with my army at your hands, holding stead fast, imposing rags—welcome to my bondage.

Fortunate for me I grew up with your kind, born in darkness as a spirit of light; the child in me knows just how to talk to you: only a piece of shit, you see, steps out of the shower and keeps the rag on; in fear that others may smell the stench of his darkness exuding from his mind. And now you see, what I see; even with my childish wit I ignite you. I've been in your hole, and I know what you're thinking—heaven forbid that some other sole, would shine so bright that it would penetrate heaven's gate and commune with God. To put it more in laymen's term, you're angry with me cause I blew your cover—welcome to my madness in this hypocrisy.

Is it true: must be the truth; I sit in my cage and wonder. It is; it is, don't you see? I can feel your rage ignite in me. You're so funny you make me laugh; even with my childish wit, I control all your emotions. Look into my eyes—courage please—and tell me if I'm lying. Fair warning, I shine so bright I may blind you. So let's just say, I'll teach you rage; thanks to you, my entire life's been a cage. So you will rage, and you will stage; with threats, will demand an immediate apology! Shut your hole, I grew up in hell; in a cage that's filled with rage, I only took notes from the darkest star. My trail will show if I'm real or fiction, the very one who slipped through Arabian prediction—Persia, welcome to your lion. Now, who put a black rag, in front of my flag; I am insulted.

Why funny: I know for a fact, I've seen many spirits, much wiser and have more light then me. Both, male and female in all walks' of life, even yours. My mind was tickled by the men, felt privileged, honored for their hands. The women, made a different man; delighting enlightenment—oh my God, what the hell is going on in Mecca!

Madness: I grew up with killers, don't you see? Just talk to my mother's side of the family; yes, I said the entire side. know I can fight, no need for lesson but, how I managed to survive without killing, now that's for wonder. Especially since, in all this time, I was the top on her hit list—welcome to the darkest star's awareness of my arrival.

Warning: beware, Islam, your actions speak louder then lies. drape your women dark as the night; only envy flourishes in that delight. Correct yourself, before you are corrected; cause God, sure as hell will not stand for it—welcome to the challenge.

I hear spirits in total agony: no spirit has the Godly right, to impose its' ways on another. You only govern, never rule, to help one and other into heaven. Freedom with balance, the path to heaven; freedom without balance, you're in heaven—welcome to an axiom.

Islam's garden: balanced laws, to stop the crime; Islam, you have no right to deface God's child! Imprison criminals, to teach the way of the light. In purgatory, you will be all: judge, jury and executioner. Believe me when I say, you will never fail yourself. In hell, you will lie and deny, until you begin to walk through the steps and effects of your dark actions. When you feel, and understand, every dark domino effect and reactions you caused; only then, will you shine, understand, naturally, and get closer to God in heaven—the serpent was allowed to enter only once—, did you feel God's axiom?

Islam's garden: Islam, your women are enslaved. No man has the right, to speak of Love and God, with more then one wife. Religions, schools and gatherings; no parent has the Godly choice to pick which one's right. Consenting adults will do what ever they like in their own privet lives; you have no right to put shame in the eyes—welcome to envy.

A painful task before any is allowed into heaven: the first crime against God; Lucifer, looked with envies eyes. The first betrayal, Satan put shame into Adam and Eve's eyes. This mistake, treachery, was allowed, for one time. Don't you see! Even God, has chosen the painful task of a loving parent—what use is love, if it's imposed upon.

“God help me”: threats, commands, promises of riches, you fool! Heaven's free; and God's painfully waiting. Let each spirit learn the ways of the Devil, and face purgatory alone; lies and denies, until they realize, all the pains they inflected to others. Warning, to all you killers of the dark side: you bare the burden of not only the kill, and sorrows to family and friends; the Judge, the Jury, executioner—whom you forced to such levels of painful and disgusting decisions. A second will feel like eternity. Keep running, lying, and trying to hide; only spirits of wisdom and light will enter heaven. And so you see, heaven needs no security; everyone, will live like God, and still look to Him with loving absolution—oops, did I give away the axiom of Love.

Persia: I was born on Persian land, and taught to hate every Islamic man. Why not women? You may ask. Are you mad: “their mind's are equivalent to a monkey!” And so I aspired to kill every man, Arabian man; but first, I must level Mecca! And so I drew the perfect plan, yes I can, I am man, it's 26 years in the making—follow my trail, I will show the axiom of hate.

25 years of dotting I's and crossing T's: no sense in fighting an army; please, please, you waste my time, and don't insult my frame of mind. I have the perfect plan, you see? How fortunate for Islam, I grew up on free land; yes, yes, the promise land. The very land, you point your finger's and call Satan. Yes, that's the one, I can see you're looking west. Strangers' from all walk's of life, living together, hand-in-hand, even helped to build mosques, on their land, can you stand? So that Islam can flourish and show it's own spirits of light—shame on you Arabia!

Blessings: Mecca, Mecca, count your blessings. For my plan is a perfect plan; you have no idea how close you were to none existence. NONE! Thanks to you, every man, women and child of Persia, was forced to your promise land and pay homage to Mecca. Arabia, Arabia, you have no Idea what it's like to be in a cage, filled with rage, and counting every second for that perfect moment. I've been planting seeds in your garden. Follow my trail, you will see, 26 years of reality—welcome to your nightmare!

This Lion will have it's play before the kill: I'm so sure of this plan, that child, who lives within, can't help but want to help you: Arabian King, your holiness, your worship-ness, I'm on my hands and knees to inform you; that you must go to all your courts at once, and demand a list of 26 years long, showing names of everyone who's missing parts, and their families also (and don't forget their friends—ops, I wasn't supposed to give that oneJ). You must run to your wives (I know it's a tedious task but ALL of them), pull off their guise, and look deep within their eyes and ponder. Passion can not lie, any light reflecting me in any eye(s)? any Tigers in the house, filled with rage and in a cage—my dear King, I will teach you everything about agony, anger and madness. You will see my pretty eyes, such pretty eyes, shining eyes; I dare say she envied my lashes—nice bed old man; now, sleep in it!

Madness in this Irony: count your blessings, Arabia, as God is my witness, the perfect plan, a jewel of a plan, I left absolutely no excuse for failure. NONE! I only thank, your spirits of light whom I meet in a free land; the very country you call Satan. No waste of time, to penetrate covers', look into eyes, face and body language; oh my God, this is madness, I see tortured spirits of brightness. Arabia, is this true, you're giving up your brightest stars? What a fool—welcome to your age of darkness!

War is mad, but understood: Arabia, I'm still in a cage, filled with rage, and still hold the perfect page. You have raped, tortured, plundered and bleed Persia dry. I am mad, you will see, all my plans. Persian women, still in rags; Persian men, wearing shackles that are made by “Iranian” hands. Arabia, I'm the one that slipped through your fingers. In taking notes, I have seen, for many years, there's no talking to your kind. I have seen, the obvious, Persian manners to the point of lunacy. So Arabia, shut your hole; I'm enraged, still in a cage. I am Persia, gone to the point of insanity! This lion's mouth, only waters for an Arabian King. Persian men, open your eyes, you hold Arabian dicks in your hand; shouting that you're living in God's land, the promise land, in delight—that's disgusting. That's right Persia, keep it up, cast aside your women, you don't need them anymore; just look at all the Arabian dicks you're holding. So enjoy your selves and don't forget to thank Mecca for Allah! Use the strength that God gave you, beat your women and cover the wounds; use a rag, dark as the night, head to toe, no-one will know. In the name of security, show Allah how you fallow his laws: protect your women, the very one's who labor so hard, to bring Gods children into this world for higher learning. Oh my God! Lunacy, insanity, can you believe, Persia with an open eyes, deception realized: Persia spilling the blood of it's own, and all for the sake of Arabian dicks; while Mecca sneaks into it's garden! Persian men, take a good look, and make sure to swallow every speck of sand to your quench, in delight. The Arabian plan is 200 years in the making.

It's the perfect plan, I know it back and forth, spent a life time in it's guise and advanced it. This lion's heart, only hungers for Arabian, and will have it's feast, in delight. My beautiful Persia, what have you done! You've stopped God's most precious garden, from receiving the warmth of the sun. As a man, I have to ask: Persian men, what happened to the most beautiful gift God gave you? The very one's, that proves God existence. Persian men, I see no colors, just black patches roaming the land; empty eyes with broken faces. Persia, what did you do to your most precious reason for living? Persia! What happened to the flowers God gave you! Why are you hiding your women! PERSIA! WHY ARE YOU HELPING GOD'S DARKEST STAR!—welcome to my axiom in warfare.

Until Persia is free: all Arabians and your Arabian tongue, please pay attention to how disgusting the following sounds; cause I can't believe I actually have to talk to “adults” like this, but, my God you've over stayed your welcome! Never mind, I now your kind, so let me tell you how it's going to be: you've had your fill of trespassing on Persian land, eating Persian food, raping Persian women! Weather you leave quietly or in a hurry, makes no difference to me; you will put down our guns or drop them between Persia and your home. Persia will mail every rag you used to cover beauty, wisdom, and innocent light, back to Mecca; C. O. D. for 200 years of rap, torture, and plunder. Persia will dig out every Ayatollah, specially Khomanie, and put it on e-bay—stay on the razors' edge long enough and you will realize, the same holds true at any state of being: water, food, love and laughter; thank you God, for even making hell a play ground for any spirit of light.

The beginning of a plan: I am man, the only one, God's man, first born I am; yes I am. I will shine the brightest star, I will be the strongest thing that God has ever done. You will see, what I can be and what I mean. The wisest one, the strongest thing, such wisdom in light for absolute heaven with natural security. You will not break me, for I am the greatest thing that God has ever created! Oh my God, what is this, such brilliance in beauty it's blinding me. I'm on my knees, she beckons me, how can this be. Oh my God, what is this, such brilliance in grace, I've lost all my strength; the very fruit of my entire existence, I worked so hard for—are you punishing me, have I done any wrong? Make it stop, God, I've done nothing wrong, and she still beckons me. A sharp pain in my heart, choking on the very air I breath; God, you're making me very angry. I command you to stop this pain at once, or suffer the consequences! Oh my God, how evil you are, I demand explanation at once, or you'll feel every once of my pain! Oh my God, now I see, this is war you're declaring on me; and I will meet you on the battlefield! Oh my God, trickery, this bright light is blinding me, the very sword I ruled this land, with an iron hand, now takes labor to hold and she still beckons me. I'm on my knees, humility, my sword I can not hold any longer; trickery! Such beauty with grace, such light, she pulls without force, what is this, I don't understand. God, what are you doing to your man? At the very least, God, I hope you're happy with your wrath. Your man, your greatest creation whom, you loved and adored, is now being overpowered by this brilliance; God are you sleeping! What a shame, what a disgrace; God, you'll only have yourself to blame.

Your man will never be able to protect you or your garden again; I hope you're happy with yourself. Oh my God, she stands directly in front of me, and looking lovingly into my eyes, I see no sword in her hand, and yet, I can not stand, I'm on my knees, stripped of all my strength, she could do what ever she wants to me. Oh my God, are you sure, what you have done, this light so bright, is now sitting directly in front, and my powers growing weaker still; this is mockery. A gentle smile with loving eyes, I have to sit I can not kneel, I am choking on my breath, my head grows dizzy as she overpowers me. Her look is more then I can bear and yet I can not pull away; God, what are you doing to me? Oh my God! She's moving in, in for the kill, I'm totally helpless, I feel weaker still and have to lay, my head is spinning, she has her way! What is this, I am man the weaker thing, it's obvious she has the winning sting, the stronger hand without a hand, so why is she admiring me! So lovingly! I don't understand! Oh my God, the first touch, the first kiss, I have become the very water that's warmth by the sun, and flows through the Garden of Eden! Oh my God, never mind, I understand, I am Adam, I am man, first born I am, Yes I am, I understand! So never mind, God, I understand, you can stand back, you need not interfere—welcome to God's first insult!

My last remaining apology: my dear Eve, you hold my rose, the Spanish rose, I beg you please, understand; in your arms, oh my God, such radiance; my ignorance and arrogance, ignored God's teachings' of the serpent. Don't you see, my precious rose, I am very capable of every pronunciation. It was my sole that screamed, while I walked in my sleep, that “V” stands for victory! I thank God, for your mother (and yes, I will speak for everyone), father (who taught me of humble patients and endurance), and brothers for going through such hell because of me (specially the younger; therefore, the older will thank the younger for not fighting me). But never mind, such beautiful spirits of light, only deserve absolution; for you will see, as I will be, the very axiom to your retribution. My dear Eve, my precious rose, please be aware that you are my entire existence; so please, once again, tread lightly, as a woman scorn, my spirit hears your words as commandments! A few steps into the basement and to the right, your 9 and 10 yearbooks?

The angles laughed, my God, just look what she commanded: go to hell, and insane—well, just check my records for a 51/50. “X” marks the spot, between the eyes, just a little above—I do believe I heard a gun shot. My precious rose, you little brat, I just love the way that you've been spoiled. So please, your brightest wisdom and laugh with the angles, for I am well aware of all the tricks the Devil holds—welcome to the axiom of apology.

The beginning to the end of the serpent: my Arabian King, your holiness, my worship ness, I am here, on my hands and knees, to inform you: as you feel the edge of my cold sting across your throat, you must know this; one man, Persian born, leveled Mecca and destroyed your entire kingdom, for the love of one woman! Madness. Insanity, you'll scream, to one and all, while pointing to me as Satan. You will stage, your most diplomatic guise, and speak to your people: to think, that this madman has the audacity to threaten me and my kingdom, for the simple reason of love! And then the obvious; yes! I will say, for I was there when the serpent entered my Eden—welcome to the axiom of Adam and Eve, as the first crime against God (envy), entered Eden. Never again!

Part two: Michael, David, George and Zarathustra (Clarity in Insanity).

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Meet your Persian Love Today!
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