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I am here to make a difference. Isn't that why we're all here?

38, Male

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Joined on 5/20/20

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nietzlawe's News

Posted by nietzlawe - 3 days ago


Whatever people believe. Time reveals all.

Time tells the truth about everything.

Just allow enough time to pass and you'll find your truths.

Dog Bless All.

Posted by nietzlawe - August 12th, 2021




Posted by nietzlawe - August 8th, 2021



Posted by nietzlawe - June 28th, 2021


Footprint - Nietzlawe

01. Lingua Franca

02. Beauty of Assimilation

03. Finding Nietzlawe

04. Bookworm

05. The Devout Thinker

06. State of Mind

07. The Highs of Feeling Low

08. i Before i Die

09. Inside an Outsider

10. Tolerate

11. A Seed of Clarity

12. One

13. The Real You

14. Changing of the Guard

15. Believing is Doing

16. Footprint

Posted by nietzlawe - June 14th, 2021


Posted by nietzlawe - June 13th, 2021

MARCH 29, 2006


Posted by nietzlawe - March 27th, 2021




David Bowie couldn't give "everything" away.


Posted by nietzlawe - January 12th, 2021

Posted by nietzlawe - December 15th, 2020


Newsflash, we got a boob flash. We have an important scoop. So why not shout it from the rooftops? What? Like that fake news regarding the '69 moonshot? The Art of Not Telling the Truth, just selling the ruse. Compelling, but as ever, deluded. Much like my boob luge. Our world is full of huge noobs who live to dupe others, and stoop lower than two midgets on a shooting spree during the start of a June summer. But don't assume they did. There are very few criminal midgets. Midget crime is rare. Midgets are gems. So ladies and gents, take my inventive miscellany with the best of intentions before I go frigid with this pen, and then some. End up dependant on you. Only so much fuel before I burn up, and you turn off. Life can be cruel. But fear not, I didn't come here just to flee when the stove gets hot. I'm only here to free some thoughts and release some grievance. Don't need no reasons, just hoping it can breed cohesion. This world needs more humour, to feed our future, not receed our roots, just relieve our pain, not relive our stupors. Nie dares not bail on you, or set sail, he'll be here as long as he's still able to tell a tale or two. Celebrate and collaborate with whoever remains from our crew. Until we are remains ourselves. What are these posts we make, but a bunch of our brains? Hunched together in one space, until we punch in at our permanent stasis. We live every day, never braced, and waste most of 'em, like it's a race, forever taking each moment for granted, anything but facing everything openly. We lack the understanding of life and death. We're blind. That's my guess. We've already failed the eye test. But even if I lacked sight, I'd write to my last breath. A last rite, then a flatline, with the nurses sat by, casually smoking. That's why it's better to live as if every day is your first. On your back, crying. Yeah...

I'll rest, but only when I wrest this prize. It'll be surprising if I can prise it at all. A tall order, a price to pay, like grabbing the horns of a bull because you grabbed the bull by the horns. I say, leave fame alone. Stand back and give it some leeway. In fact, speed off like the Grand Prix if need be! Hopefully, no one will see you flea. We're already leagues ahead and ready for this leap of faith, like Lolita Davidovich. It's important that you keep the faith, yet still commit to being an atheist. Coz you've seen nothing yet to change the shit. People are still in chains and shit. We're supposedly approaching a Golden Age, but it's more like a gilded cage than ever before... and shit. People draw on walls to kill the rage and shit... Why not just fill a page with it? Instead of defacing shit, coz you're full-on deranged and shit. Maybe you should be detained... put in restraints and hit... beaten with whips and chains and kicked. I Joke I Kic.. I mean Keed. Definitely Keed.. yet I revel in being a rebel with a cause and these claws out. I'll rip your throat out before the show's out. No doubt a gorehound. You'll be lucky if you can go four rounds with this old warhorse. I do this for sport, so where's the scoreboard? A whole storage of stories, and never a shortage. An entire assortment. Anything I desire to tell, pull it to the forefront. Every installment absorbing, snowballing and rolling like an out of control Zorb ball... that won't stop until someone puts a fork in. But it won't happen, like a vegan eating pork ribs. And on this Wednesday night, as I'm sat pouring my forth fifth. Writing more shit for the board, a formidable achievement, a Walker Mitty that's more critical and hysterical as ever before. So witty! But that's open for debate, like an old grave that's open and ripe for pissing in. Oh wait... it's your own place you didn't have to save up thirty years to make your home. That deep hole's a freebie, kind of creepy, everyone around it weeping, while some preaching cunt with beady eyes is reading out speeches full of cheesy lines and repeating that spiel weekly. Afterwards they all make their way to the speakeasy, for a knees up and a feast until it's not easy to speak.

Rotten like a wisdom tooth of Winston Smith, and there's a lot of truth in that downfall, Mrs Pauline Otten. Just because it was years ago, didn't mean we'd all forgotten her outcome. Nietz never forgets, he's like an elephant in the room. Wouldn't he be better off in a zoo? Why? More room to roam, than in a Roman fort called Bremetennacum. Join the Rotary Club. That's one way to open doors. No, wait a minute... that's what the chauffeur's for. For Nie, life's not even worth getting off the sofa for. Fuck yoga, where's the soda? Where's the sugar gone from this fuckin' cola? He's just a regular sort of dude. Health and wellbeing, screw that, no interest, I'm only invested in seeing the weight accrue, coz eventually every wrestler gets fat, the biggest leveller is that we're all bound for the slab. So let's just revel in being, human. Just be you, man, and don't let anyone else tell you what to do. Except now, when I'm telling you what to do. Sick of these devil's advocates, and the 7 Catholic sacraments. Sick of what's seen as sacrilege. Cause friction by talking smack about most religions, and fictitious scriptures, all rewritten. Parceled and packaged with a brand new bow and ribbon. But luckily, nowadays, noone listens. Too busy jizzing off, so addicted. Souls are twisted and tortured, unable to resist this force, a conflicted, collision course, upcoming. I'm happy to eat a fricassée and watch the bullets ricochet, why should I reciprocate by being a prick, and cause needle? No need to. I just want to be hunted down by German women in jodhpurs on prize breed Thoroughbred racehorses. Whooosh... I guess what high say just goes over people's heads. Dermot O'Tightass. Ferg brain, third degree burns on the body of a first degree murdererererer. Playing Solitaire, alone, while holding in a solid turd. All we ever do is get together with Megan June, and eat ready-made egg and bacon for bed and breakfast every day of May. This isn't true, but for the sceptical, I would have thought you already knew why I do this. As lewd as a luge down a huge pair of lubed tits, and looped for Giphy. Winter's here and I feel nippy as fuck, but ready to sit and rip through a few verses of prose while Rise Up by Aden's Sky plays, and I write these throwaway troves like it's an everyday occurrence. Like it's a state of emergency. A sea of emerging words... disturbing scene. They say this jaywalker needs curbing, but I hate walking where there's skateboarders. Hate crime? Not me. I just ate... six Time Outs. Will I get sick? Guess we'll soon find out. But usually I never do, I feel immune to all impurities. Except when my farts start to sound like a geiger counter. More interested in counting how many ginger Borders I've consumed before I'm ready to resume from where I left off... So many unwritten chapters, Nietzlawe - Mind of an Atlas, with pages hidden under a mattress illustrating his madness. In truth, I no longer doodle or make music, just Google for nude pictures. Mentally hindered, but likely to leave more embers throughout the rest of December. It is time to enter the Panzer Dragoon, and not let it drag on for longer than is necessairé. Like fake Nessie pics. Now who's got the hump? Me, after finding out they pump our drinks with artificial junk. May as well be the spunk from their dicks. Sick of these health pimps, and these corrupt trannies with hidden agenders. Sick of what is and isn't offensive. One day I'll be free from all of these senses. That's what I take strength in. Knowing the end is in sight, so if you don't like this insight, join the mob at ringside and get ready for a fist fight. Coz I'll die before I cave to the censors. Go to my grave, before I ever change a sentence.

Posted by nietzlawe - November 15th, 2020




The White Horse : Pestilence.

I watched as the Lamb opened the first of the seven seals. Then I heard one of the four living creatures say in a voice like thunder, "Come and see!" I looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown (corona), and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest. (Revelation 6:1-2)

The Red Horse : War.

When the Lamb opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, "Come and see!" Then another horse came out, a fiery red one. Its rider was given power to take peace from the earth and to make men slay each other. To him was given a large sword. (Revelation 6:3-4)