WHEN YOU GO ROGUE AND BREAK AWAY FROM SOCIETAL CONSTRUCTS, YOU BEGIN TO REALIZE THAT MOST PEOPLE HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE F*** THEY'RE DOING HERE ON EARTH OR WHAT'S ACTUALLY GOING ON. 

SEPERATION IS AN ILLUSION 


LIFE IS A HOLOGRAPHIC PROJECTION OF INFINITE FRACTALS

AND

EVERY REALITY EXISTS.



TRUST THE INNER PATH. 

TRUST YOUR SPIRIT GUIDES.

TRUST YOUR HIGER SELF.

TRUST THE THING MOST CALL GOD BUT DON'T TRULY UNDERSTAND 

TRUST IN THE VOLTAGE OF YOURSELF, OTHERS, AND THE METAPHYSICAL.


WE
ARE
ONE.

ROGUE

[Lyrics]

Vault-lit saints behind tempered glass,
Prices rise as the sages pass.
Provenance whispers, gavel sings,
Authority crowns the simplest things.
Labels glow brighter than the art,
We worship context, not the heart—
Gold sleeps sound in a numbered room,
Beauty starves in curated gloom.


Beauty lives in every spark,
A tremor deep that lights the dark.
Do you see mere information—
Or the soul’s vibration?
Beauty hides in common stone,
Yet shakes the marrow, shakes the bone.
Are you reading data on the wall,
Or the pulse that shakes us all?



One mind laughs from a later day:
“Let’s tilt your idols, just to play.”
He forges wonders, clean and sly,
And mails them backward through the sky.
Past wakes up to a “miracle” find,
Frames it fast, rewrites the mind—
Tours, insurance, critics’ praise,
Myth gets minted in a blaze.


Beauty lives in every spark,
A tremor deep that lights the dark.
Do you see mere information—
Or the soul’s vibration?
Beauty hides in common stone,
Yet shakes the marrow, shakes the bone.
Are you reading data on the wall,
Or the pulse that shakes us all?



At last the jester takes the stage:
“I forged your holy, page by page.
You saw the story, not the line—
A halo hung on stolen time.”
Vaults fall quiet, values pale;
Kings of context drop their veil.
What were we seeing through the glass—
Beauty… or a fabled mass?


Masterpieces might be chance,
Thumb-flicked drafts that caught a glance.
Ancient dates and experts’ cheer—
Proof of worth? Not really, dear.
Scrape the slogan, kill the glare,
Let naked form meet naked air;
If nerves still sing when names are gone,
Keep the shiver. Pass it on.


Beauty lives in every spark,
A tremor deep that lights the dark.
Do you see mere information—
Or the soul’s vibration?
Beauty hides in common stone,
Yet shakes the marrow, shakes the bone.
Are you reading data on the wall,
Or the pulse that shakes us all?



We fed on tales instead of light,
Mistook the frame for perfect sight.
Beauty isn’t crown or throne—
It’s breath that moves the silent bone.

Even a coin, mass-struck, unsigned,
Can ring like autumn in the mind—
Not for the story stamped above,
But for the shock that says, “I love.”

Other

A Prank from Tomorrow

[Lyrics]

煙突が空を塗りつぶす
「怖い」だけが票を奪う
掲示板の数字は赤いまま
停電の夜に子供が咳をする
感情のNOが炭素のYES
善意の仮面で未来が削れる


科学を見よ、データを見よ。
Denominatorを数え、比較せよ。
一kWhの死者は　石炭＞石油＞ガス≫原子力
排出量も同じ順だ――それが事実だ
核を憎めば、地球を焼く。
恐怖は燃料、気候を煽る



見えない放射線＝即“悪”という連想
原爆の影を発電に投影する錯誤
確率を因果にすり替え、分母を捨てる
統計を嫌い、物語に縋る
「クリーン」を唱え　裏でガスを焚く
その矛盾が空を黒くする


科学を見よ、データを見よ。
Denominatorを数え、比較せよ。
一kWhの死者は　石炭＞石油＞ガス≫原子力
排出量も同じ順だ――それが事実だ
核を憎めば、地球を焼く。
恐怖は燃料、気候を煽る



頑固老人よ、テレビの恐怖で時を止めたまま
新しい数式の窓を固く閉ざすのか
思い込みは鎖、学びの鍵を拒む掌
懐かしさを守るために　子供の肺を差し出すのか?
過去の影に震える君の手が
未来の灯を消している!!


科学を見よ、データを見よ。
Denominatorを数え、比較せよ。
一kWhの死者は　石炭＞石油＞ガス≫原子力
排出量も同じ順だ――それが事実だ
核を憎めば、地球を焼く。
恐怖は燃料、気候を煽る



カーボンバジェット、針は残り僅か
熱波は日常、海はしょっぱく、森は乾く
ハザードは待たない、善意も待たない
明日では遅い、今　選べ――理性を


炉心ではなく　心の鎖を外せ
透明性で恐怖を洗い　安全で疑いを研ぎ澄ませ
原子力を解放せよ――
石炭の夜を終わらせろ

未来は子供たちのものだ、
笑顔の分母を増やすために
感情ではなく、事実で決めろ。
明日は彼らのものだ――我らの手で渡せ

Radionuclides Phobia / 放射線恐怖症

[Lyrics]

Upper tiers congeal to tar,
Rent-seeking crowns in armored cars.
“Merit” masked as easy gains—
Private profits, socialized pains.
Boards baptize financialization,
Call it growth; it’s stagnation.

Where’s fair play? It’s thin, it’s pale—
Gresham’s law of morals: good men fail.
A dark-triad tournament to win,
You learn to cheat—or you cave in.


Fix the game, not just the players;
Price the harms, uncap the layers.
Race-to-bottom’s not a hymn—
Rewrite the payoff; raise the rim.
If “market” means a rigged bazaar,
Then Capitalism—patch the core.



“Freedom” sold on credit lines,
Unpriced externalities climb.
Feeds farm rage for CPM,
A prisoner’s dilemma dressed as “friend.”
Principal–agent drift goes wide,
“Best for me” guts “common side.”

Lady Justice, OOO;
Regulatory capture runs the show.
Metrics game the human end—
Nash equilibria that bend.


Fix the game, not just the players;
Price the harms, uncap the layers.
Race-to-bottom’s not a hymn—
Rewrite the payoff; raise the rim.
Patch incentives, break the lore—
Capitalism—patch the core.



Audit rules, retire the lie:
Rents to caps, monopolies die.
Commons cred—carbon priced and clear,
Floor of dignity (UBI) near.
Open data, open skies,
Co-progress: we synchronize.


Compete in virtue, compete in mind;
Leave the “wickedness race” behind.
Non-zero-sum becomes the art—
Expand the Pareto frontier’s heart.
If “capitalism” means more war,
Then name it new—and patch the core.


Race, nation, creed—hollow frames;
Moloch feeds on zero-games.
We’re one cognitive body, sworn:
Don’t let our wisdom die unborn.

Shattered Capitalism

[Lyrics]

When I was a child, dreams came like air.
Everyone loved; everyone was there.
Now we’re split by feeds and factions—tearing.
Some are praised while others take the scaring.

Who priced your soul and sealed the deal?
Plastic gods demand you kneel.


What does your job say about you?
What does a balance ever prove?
Are you “cool” ’cause you lease that coupe?
We chase the trend, discard the truth.
We buy thin threads that fade by noon,
We bite the badge—no worth, no use.
We’re trash—consumer-coded through;
The Pleroma doesn’t need this crew.



Why can’t you see—do things define?
Wake from the mask that trash designs.
Not envy, not a bitter cry—
It’s hands to lift your inner sky.


What does your job say about you?
What does a balance ever prove?
Are you “cool” for a chrome-bright coupe?
Don’t cage your spark in fashion’s loop.
We’re worn by wants we never choose;
Chaff to the Pleroma’s view.



Wake up—unmask the craftsman’s fraud;
Cut through the archons’ mesh and rods.
Wisdom’s the worth—not name nor slot;
Class wars shadowboxing plots.
Ask it straight—did owning make you whole?
The quiet “no” betrays your soul.


Carry the fire—carry it on.
Peel the veneer—loosen the bonds.
Guide the spark back to the Pleroma’s dawn.


What does your job say about you?
What does a balance ever prove?
Don’t wear the logo like a noose;
The market’s hymn is not your truth.
Shed the husk and drop the cues;
Return—let higher light break through.


Pursue the wisdom—seek the key;
One day Jaldabaoth’s cage will cease.
Pass on the fire—not man, but mind—
Dark falls only where flames decline.

Anti-Cosmic-Gnosis

Christopher emphasizes the importance of developing an inner gaze and self-awareness to counter the mind’s habitual movement from stillness to obsession and distraction. Instead of fixating on the contents of the mind, one should observe the mechanisms behind them, recognizing that enlightenment is a natural, unconditional state, while suffering is conditioned and self-created.

Undoing the Mind's Conditioning

"Beams of Enlightenment" is a psychedelic metal journey exploring the paradox of spiritual seeking. The song follows the futile struggle to grasp enlightenment through force, leading to the realization that desire itself becomes the obstacle. Heavy riffs blend with atmospheric, reverb-drenched interludes as the narrative shifts from desperate grasping to the wisdom of letting go. Features driving metal intensity contrasted with spacey, ethereal sections that mirror the transformation from spiritual striving to ultimate surrender and freedom.

Created with Suno AI

Lyrics by Kenneth Carlino

Beams of Enlightenment

Whether this be mere hopium or not, I don't know.  Just had to go with it.  Thanks for listening and stay strong...believe humanity will prevail and we just might pull it off! 
Lovely backing track provided by TGuitar ==> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-u6Q4Vzhjg
IT NEVER RAINS FOREVER
V1
Today, a calm feeling swept over me
In a world of chaos don’t know how it could be
Perhaps it was the guru on the video
Telling me to stack sats and enjoy the show

CHORUS
Things are hard right now
But things will get better
I don’t know exactly how
But it never rains forever

V2
What if there was enough gold to go around?
What if there was no more war to be found?
What if there was no more Left, no more Right?
No more reason to argue and fight

What if there was just one King?
One true and righteous King of kings
I believe He’s with us here and now
Exposing this world’s sacred cow

CHORUS
Things are hard right now
Oh, but things will get better
I don’t know exactly how
But it never rains, never rains forever

BRIDGE
Empires rise, empires fall
Ages come, ages go
These are incredible times
New seeds to sow, whoa-whoa, whoa, whoa-whoa……
……..whoa-whoa, whoa

CHORUS/TAG
Things are hard, hard right now
But things will get better, yeah-ee-yeh
I don’t know exactly how
But it never rains forever
Things will get better, yeah
You gotta believe
Things always get better, whoa-whoa, whoa..

I don’t know exactly how but things will get better, yeah, whoa-whoa

Today, a calm feeling swept over me
In a world of chaos don’t know how it could be…whoa-whoa


© 2025 Renee La Chapelle – All Rights Reserved

IT NEVER RAINS FOREVER

[Lyrics]

Binary mind, a tidy creed,
Yet nature’s graphs are wild with feed.
Confounds mingle, priors bend,
Latent factors interblend.
Manifolds of tangled cause,
Nonlinear worlds that break our laws.
Call it “good” or “bad” to cope—
Truth is a spectrum, not a trope.


Split the world in two—oh, what a sight!
Suddenly only Justice and Night.
Flip a coin morality, neat incision—
Evil and virtue by crisp partition.
How clean! How wrong! The map’s excision.



Archives bleached in Minitrue light,
Footnotes vanish in the bureaucrat night.
Margins trimmed, the index pared,
Victims muted, context bared.
“Who controls the past,” they sing,
“Purifies every wicked thing.”
Erase the stain, redact the scar—
Saints manufactured, near and far.


All sins deleted, case-closed decision—
Crimes dissolved by clean revision.
Everyone innocent, spotless by pen—
Holier histories, holier men.



Don’t be absurd—your two-tone prison
Cannot contain a world arisen.
Spectra surge; a thousand hues—
Reality riots in colored news.

In black and white, what’s left to see?
No nuance, priors, or entropy.
Gradients paint what facts disclose—
Context blooms where color grows.


Cut down the binary blade, incision;
Cut down history-by-revision.
Return the spectra, restore the grain—
Let paradox breathe, let truth remain.
No more halos by erasure’s art—
Complexity back into the heart.



Hold both the clean and the troubled stream,
Bitter and sweet in the same bloodstream.
Courage to stomach the murk and the bright—
That is the palette of human sight.
Keep faith with color, refuse the cut;
The world is vivid—do not shut.

All Innocence by Revision

[Lyrics]

“Equal” on the barn door, bold and neat,
till midnight edits sand the creed to sleet.
A haloed hand ladles rage for feed—
3S slop: Screen / Sport / Sex—consume, concede.
Squealer tunes the numbers: “We’re doing fine.”
Meanwhile the queue grows longer down the line.


You crown-polishing bastards, choke on your creed;
your unity’s a muzzle and a sedative feed.
Panem et circenses, pixel-bright lies—
you call it bread while shoving hush-pies.
Gaslight gospel, same old trick—
Squealer’s sugar on the stats you pick.
Counterfeit consent, you priests of spin—
Democracy’s corpse with a blush drawn in.



Ballots like incense, queued confessions;
absolution stamped by empty sessions.
The charter stands, its bones displayed—
the flesh was bartered, the nerves mislaid.
Median hymns for a managed crowd;
quiet desperation, broadcast loud.


You crown-polishing bastards, choke on your creed;
your unity’s a muzzle and a sedative feed.
Bread-and-circus, pixel-slick lies—
call it a feast while the pantry dies.
Spin it, Squealer—make the figures sing;
it’s bullshit math with a wedding ring.
Counterfeit consent, you priests of spin—
Mascara on a rot within.



Man craves the trough as much as the throne;
we perfume the sty and call it our own.
Power’s pheromone—on every cheek;
we praise the leash, then brand the weak.


Sink your teeth in the lie, not flesh or skin;
spit contempt at the crown, not the citizens.
Kill the feed, not people; starve the show;
break the Screen / Sport / Sex payroll.
Unmask the trick, unrig the speak—
make meaning costly, courage chic.


You crown-polishing bastards, choke on your creed;
your unity’s a muzzle and a sedative feed.
Panem et circenses, pixel-bright lies—
we’re done being props in your alibis.
Spin till you’re dizzy, sell the sham sleek—
we’ll salt your trough, you power-sick.



But hush—the paint dries; a clever new keeper
switches the labels, burrows in deeper.
“Equal,” again, till whispers amend—
the sign gets repainted, the cycle won’t end.

Domestic Animals

Thanks for tuning in.  Stripped Down, Raw and Real songs complete with flaws are what you'll find here.  Write on, Songsters! 

Much love from the USA,
Renee

I̵̙͖̳̖̭̐ N̷̢̡̩̩̙̼̰͈̑̉̐̀̒̓̃ C̷̭͓̙̙̲͊͒́̊͝ Ò̵̬͠ M̵̹̭̠͇̚͜͝ Í̴̛̪͇̽̌̿̅͊̐́͠ N̴̨̧͂̍̓̊͘͝ Ǵ̸̘̔͂͒̌̒̌ ̷̩̈́̽̋̾̂͆͘̕  T̸̡̟̝̤̟̟̗̪͙̹̈́͐̾͝ R̸̦͔̼͜͜͠ A̷̼̥͉͈̩̫͉̖̎͋̽͘ͅ Ṉ̵̖̘̝̩̖̺͚͈̄͠ S̷̨̧̮̱̪͖̮̫̎̔͂̚ M̸̬̞͕̳̰̎̈́͘ Ī̵͖̟͚̱̱͔̦̳̚ͅ S̴̡̮̞͎͍̝̭̟͛͒̾̌̚ S̶̺͚̦̩̞̬̱͇̏̆́͂̊̚ Į̷̣̫̮̫͉̍͆̀̀̓́̚͜ O̸̠͉̬͎̙̓̓́͑̀͘͘̕ N̴͇̗̱͈͐͒̐̾̄͒͜͝


LIGHT SHINES BRIGHTEST WHEN IN THE DARKNESS

STEP AWAY FROM SOCIAL CONSTRUCTS AND FIND YOUR OWN WAY



LOVE IS THE ULTIMATE WEAPON
BASS IS THE 2ND

AND IM ALL LOADED UP ON BOTH


100 - 6/2024
200 - 10/2024



















MGMT: summitproducer.official@gmail.com



praise our eternal sound design lord and inspiration behind why I chose the name Summit so long ago, Skrillex

#summitdubz #summit_wav #summitwav #summitwave #summit #skrillex #owsla

All songs are released into the public domain. 
Please feel free to download them.
No need to credit me, and you're even free to sell it if you like.
Hmm, but if you like it, I would love for you to help infected&spread my lyrics!
Link Free.  feel free to expose it anywhere you like.

I am a bacterium with mycolic acid on its surface.
I will damage your lungs.
And..... Smash commercialism.

Philosophy is the pathless path; our inborn search for Truth. It is the hope of Christopher Murphy that through his teaching endeavors he can remind others of this innate search for Truth and empower them to see the Eternal with their own eyes.

thethreeawakenings@gmail.com

New tracks tagged #Enlightenment