Kali Yuga Memoirs

Once I felt compelled to write something, maybe to work on some of my chronicles, tales or novels, but inspiration eluded me and I found myself in a hassle to do something about it. Then it occurred to me how essential it is for men to have the means to express himself through artistic impulses; be it through written, musical or visual forms. I also believe it's safe to say that the term "art" lost most of it's meaning since the second half of the last century,  where a diabolical travesty of animalesque qualities has "taken the place" of what true art should be and symbolize in modern society. I always had within me the vision that art's role in the universe was to act as a conduit for the elevation of the human spirit as a whole.  Art has the magical property of turning simple men into a state of tragic demigods, where lay before them they will conjure images of the divine or even the profane, but nonetheless, in the inhuman condition of

During the past few days I’ve been facing a subject of utmost interest for those who share a view somewhat akin to mine. Recently I’ve found myself having similar conversations with two distinct individuals about this very topic, which now I’d like to elaborate upon the same question which led to the beginning of our discussions. We talked about the lack of serious cultural and identitarian dissident groups/movements in the Brazilian soil (a topic that will also be deeply analyzed and theorized upon on a later date) and how many of the so called “attempts” of such organizations are most certainly fated to a premature end. Also we discussed on how this phenomenon caused, in many cases, a strange rise on the numbers of dissident individuals who feel segregated in their own niche. And finally, how these very individuals are then leaded to a downward spiraling path of nihilistic tendencies and are ultimately dragged away from the righteous attitudes in a selfish pursuit of their o

I've been a little overwhelmed with ideas during the past fews days. I've taken back to compose music and put some other older projects back into motion, so the texts I was working own kind of got lost in the hassle of the last two weeks. Nonetheless, I'd like to share one ofmy old poems here, this one being from 2018. Conceived at a very interesting time of my life, when I was rediscovering my passion for poetry and writing in general. Hope those who read it will be able to grasp in it's meaning and symbolism. Paths of War Thy severe mien envisages the bulwarks of the welkin, The clenched fist channels the clamor of the athirst kin. Banner at hand, fire at heart, boots on the feet. Under the gaze of sordid mountains the lines of men meet. Rise, rise the flag with crimson smear, Lay down on me the strength of those who didn’t persevere. Soil, home and verity. Hardship, sweat and austerity. Evanesce the so lovely youthful unreality , Givi

I recall a very interesting exchange I've had with a dear friend last year, in which we conversed about what happens after the end of the dark age we're living at this precise moment. During that same conversation we've had, he sent me this very interesting chart, taken from the now defunct blog Elders of the Black Sun, containing the precise years in which specific periods of the Kali Yuga will start and end.(Seem below) I also remember stating during the occasion what a pity it was that we wouldn't be able to witness this, which at the time I've called a new renaissance, future golden age. Since that very moment this thought hasn't left my mind, every now and then I find myself contemplating upon what it means to bear witness to such a momentous event in the future of human history. I since I've decided to share my views among my long lost peers through this platform, it occurred to me that some of the most absolute laws of the cosm