Exekias' painting

During 6^th century B.C. Achilles killed the beautiful daughter of Ares, Penthesileia. Her death was mourned by the people.

As she fell dying in his arms, Achilles fell in love with her.

Exekias captured the moment for all posterity with his black figure  amphora painting.

Jesus three days prior to Christ

Six centuries later, the same spear mortally wounded Jesus, and thus began the transforming love of the ages…

Parsifal's failure to empathize

Twelve centuries later, Parsifal failed to empathize with the king’s wound inflicted by the very dagger…

Ridley Scott

And… in the twentieth century, the same blade ran through our collective unconscious, and its wound captured for all posterity by Ridley Scott…  The eye, the owl, and the pyramid…

Tyrel's Owl

There have been others, profound voyagers, such as J. R. Tolkien… with his two towers…

Tolkien

Alan Moore, author of Watchmen

…And Moore, with his Watchmen…

Owl

On the eve of launching EyeBusterNews, I cannot help but feel bewildered and in awe as I type this blog post, I feel profoundly attracted to the creed of the Illuminati…  An  embracing warmth beckons me…  Noble knights and guardians of eternal balance, carriers of legacy…

Two Towers

Twin Towers

It’s a subtle feeling

To fall in love with your enemy…

It’s even more riveting

To know that all along you were one of them.

The bewitching trance of the eye…

The revelation…

The seduction of the All-Seeing Eye,

And the clarity of its beautiful logic,

Transcendent,

Riveting,

Irrevocable…

Isn’t the penultimate desire of life…

To see?

Moloch resides within the Pyramid,

The drama of mortal coil unfolds…

It’s the storyteller who carries the thread of the ages

And weaves the fabric of our illusion,

Won’t you join me?

Blake's Compass

Compass and Square

Thomas Jefferson

We had pupusas and tamales, and edited a script, exchanged gifts and saw the world through the eyes of the unconscious where stories are told and retold…

I can’t wait to see the first draft of this story… can you?

-Iliad

Fede's new short film

“Me?” She said with a half-smile, looking slightly askance.

“Well?”

“I don’t much care for politics.”  Her lips moist, poised to kiss, to draw the breath out of their victim, sweet poisoned nectar…

“…but, don’t you understand?” I protested.  “The whole damn world is…  Well here! Read this and tell me what you make of it.”  I offered her the book.

She looked away, reached for her martini.

Her blond hair softly danced in the dim lounge light, glistening with umber sparkle, spreading droplets of perfume suspended in rhythmic beats and melancholy melodies, like crystal scents reflecting childhood memories…

I reached out to touch her bare shoulder graced by a thin black strap, but she had already returned to meet my gaze.

She brought the martini to her lips, all the while holding my stare.  She savored the drama of a languid blink, depriving me momentarily, only to beckon deeper.  I could see myself reflected in her aqua eyes imprisoned behind her mascaraed lashes.

“I don’t give a damn about 1984, or Fahrenheit 451, or Oskar or your lucid delicious conspiracies.  I know all about them Alex.  The world is careening and you pontificate.  Grow up!  Drink and die, that’s the best you can hope for…”  She offered me her glass.

-IAT

.

The world has grown old

And tired, and soon will fold.

.

Where once stood men who were bold

Now whisper catacombs filled with corpses and mold.

.

We used to be warm with dreams of fires where stories were told

But now shiver in ashes and gray skies and nothing but cold.

.

To what daemon have we our precious souls so carelessly sold

When once we were heroes made so valiantly of gold?

.

Yet, how tender as all the school kids across town cheered, behold!

When the snow monster over our jeweled city rolled.

.

-IAT

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Soma, codex 11:11 advent Aquarius

-Iliad Terra