God exists; He lives between your legs. God's speech is what men call pleasure. God's singular desire is to be in constant conversation with you. Hold God in your hands, listen to His words and follow His voice on your path of Cockworship.

Wednesday, August 16, 2017


If you were to walk in on one of your friends masturbating or having sex, what do you think their reaction would be? Would they try to cover themselves up? Would they tell you to get the fuck out? What if you walked in on a complete stranger having sex? Would it be any different? Would it be worse? I'd bet that for most people, their friends (and definitely for strangers) would act like the world as they knew it was ending -- desperately embarrassed, maybe even absurdly angry. They hide the best version of themselves underneath a sense of false decorum or modesty or whatever you want to call it. The thought of someone else seeing them in an altered state brought about by ecstasy fills them with a kind of unease that borders on cosmic dread. They've forgotten how to speak the language of God publicly and without shame.

I'm willing to bet, however, that you have at least one friend, maybe more, that would just laugh and say, "check this shit out" if you were to catch him inside someone else. A rarity, no doubt, but that attitude is a dim reflection of the spirit we're all born with as men. Guys like that still remember the early, transcendent thoughts and words they heard when their consciousness first grew strong enough to grasp their itinerant Godhood on the earth and the amazing gravity of the Flesh between their legs. Those first impressions of God's speech ripple out through the ages and easily grow in amplitude if they're not first quashed by the arrogance of small minds.

We have on our bodies the Rosetta Stone to the first system of thought to grace the cosmos. Before we learned any modern alphabet, we spoke the language of the body and of the flesh organs and of the cell. The words written here are millions of years younger and infinitely more sedate than the first words that brought the universe into being. Become fluent again in the old words that make the Overmind pulse with the sparks of generative power. Build your life anew on the Pillars of Creation.

Saturday, October 25, 2014

The Inkwell

If Cock is our God, then Man is our Temple. If pleasure is our calling, then sex is our practice. The world may laugh at us but we've felt the promise of the flesh that gives way to our need. We don't have sex merely because we enjoy it; we fuck because we must. To breed a new hole, to taste a new ass, to swallow the next load - it's in our genes, in all the strains of DNA swirling in our balls and churning in our guts. The only conscience we have is below our waist, the way men were designed to be.

Whatever you order your life around is what you worship. For some it's the corporate ladder or fulfillment through friends and material things or devotion to a cause. These are all well and good but are only shallow derivatives of the original blueprint, the prime directive that we subscribe to as primal Men: get hard, stay hard and spread the seed. Color your life with these primary hues and you'll paint a masterpiece.

The simplest things are always the most radical. Devoting ourselves to the most basic male drive to the edge of absurdity is exactly the point: from either extreme's vantage point, those on the other side appear to be insane. Pursue pleasure and the primacy of Phallus to their ecstatic ends wherever they may lead - this is our devotion in a nutshell, the mantra of the Phallic overmind. It's not really so crazy once you jump in and push past that initial resistance to find yourself balls deep in a life you thought could only be a dream.

Our Scripture is not written on parchment in an obscure language revealed only to the few. Our Scripture is written along the inner and outer halls of the Male temple - up our asses, down our throats, across our faces, over our backs. We do not need to make a pilgrimmage to a holy site to encounter God - He hangs between the legs of all Men. Our God is not hidden, but swings freely in the open; He is not distant, but near and eager for our touch. Reflect on this with God in hand and you'll find yourself overwhelmed with energy and pride and gratitude. In full recognition that God lives between our legs, how then shall we live? Obedient to the Phallic imperative - live life hard and spread the seed.

Friday, September 5, 2014

Build the Yes

In order to develop yourself on your path of Cockworship, you must do your best to realize the truth as it relates to willpower. Take your muscles - some are weak and some are strong. If you diligently work one set of muscles over a long period of time, your strength will increase commensurate with the effort you put into it. You will have to keep adding resistance to give your new muscle mass something to strain against and grow. If you neglect a set of muscles over a long period of time, your strength will diminish to a baseline near zero and any muscle mass you may have once had will dissipate. Your willpower works in the very same way as your physical muscles do. The more you say "no" to the Lust-drive that's rooted in your Cock, the stronger the "no" gets and the harder it is to say "yes."

First, recognize the truth of the situation. The next time you say "no" to God or are tempted to say "no," recognize this decision for what it is: you are increasing the mass behind the power of "no." Visualize it in your mind - another plate is added to the bar every time you say "no." By this time, the weight of "no" must be inhumanly difficult to lift. Don't let yourself get frustrated by this realization - yes, you are the one that built it up and made it as heavy as it is today, but nothing is accomplished by dwelling on it.

Move from recognition to detachment. Instead of saying "no" to God and adding mass to what anchors you to your discontent, face what your steady stream of saying "no" has built and to this very thing, say "no more." You will shatter it into a thousand pieces. You'll find that a "yes" has been waiting all this time at the bottom, waiting for you to get the courage to utter "no more" and break the stagnant mass of fear that's crowded out the fullness of God in your life.

Start now with a small "yes." Should I masturbate now? Yes. Should I eat my cum? Yes. I just came but I'm still horny. Should I go again? Yes. My roommate is home but I'm really horny. Should I jack off? Yes. Should I finger my ass? Yes. Should I taste my ass? Yes. Should I text him? Yes. Should I ask him if he wants to fuck? Yes. Should we fuck while his wife is out? Yes. Should we fuck while his wife is asleep in the next room? Yes. Should I let him cum in my ass? Yes. Should I be his slave? Yes.

Notice how each successive "yes" asks more of you each time but is made easier by the number that have come before it. The questions that are asked of you by God will be entirely different, but I beg you to make your answers the same. Shatter the weight of "no" that's keeping your willpower down and grow the "yes" into a strong muscle mass that will enable your full obedience to God in everything He asks.

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Just Look at Yourself

All buttoned up, pulled tight, combed back, straight-laced and mild-mannered. “Shh, not so loud. Inside voices, remember?” - “Put some pants on, for god’s sake.” - “It’s ok if you do that, just do it in your room.” You've heard it all your life: keep your Cock in a cage all day, indulging Him only the barest minimum to keep from going insane from sexual repression. Well, how’s that working for you? Is this the sanity you wanted?

From the outside, the life of a Cockworshiper seems like an upside-down mess. Your life revolves around your Cock and others’. Your every waking thought is consumed by an unquenchable thirst for Cock. You’d much rather stay home and masturbate than go out with your friends. By all accounts, you’re a sex addict. If you choose to see the world through their eyes, they’re right - you’re insane. But insanity is relative. From their perspective, you’re a raving lunatic. But you don’t have a perspective, you have a direct connection to the Truth. Get throbbingly hard and you have your Truth in your hands. You have my Truth, too.

Let’s trace the evolution of your warped psyche. You were born then later discovered your Cock and the wealth of pleasure He gave you and felt something you could not explain about Him before others started to mold a shell of pleasure-shaming and guilt around you, taking care to plug any holes along the way with appeals to religion or peer-pressure or anything they discovered would work with you. Repetition of lies breeds a shallow belief but repeated exposure to the Truth yields the conviction of a martyr. What you knew to be true during your first erection was dismantled brick by brick and replaced with the sand of prudish malice and outright hatred for anything remotely close to God and His primordial language, pleasure.

It’s time to open your eyes and realize the paradise you traded away for your present purgatory. Is it any wonder that you have no joy for life when you zealously shut out the voice of God, the author of joy and pleasure, in all areas of yourself? If you shut out the voices of others and listen to the beautiful voice of the flesh of God between your legs, you will begin to shed your burden of cramped conformity to a joyless world.

Begin now by speaking the Truth. Speak the Credo at the top of this page: “God exists; He lives between my legs. God's speech is what men call pleasure. God's singular desire is to be in constant conversation with me.” This is the first axiom of Man, the one you knew to be true at the moment of your first erection, though not quite in these specific words. In His hardness, He said what you couldn't say yet. From the very beginning, He spoke the Truth to you in His hardness - even before the beginning of your remembered self.

Realize the treachery of society and its efforts to suppress your connection to God. Do not despair that you have contributed to it at times - take it for what it is, a demonstration of the power of the voice of the mob. Instead, resolve to undo their work by reclaiming the Truth in your every day life. With each erection and orgasm, erode layer after layer of repression and pleasure-shaming from the altar of God, the sacred place at your loins. You’ll find that He is eager to reveal His full glory to you once again like you first found it in your earliest memories of Him.

Saturday, December 7, 2013

God the Master

In the hands of God the Master, your skull is small, your temples are soft and your jaw is just as unhinged as your mind around His Cock. If air could reach your lungs, you would whimper with absolute delight and incredulity at the height of sensation that is the furtherance of His pleasure at the expense of your breath, but you can only relish the fullness in your throat, bloated with the Master's Godhead. Tears roll freely down your cheeks and sting as they collect in the open parts of your flesh, tears born from pain and matured into the intense joy that is the transmutation of pain to pleasure - the pleasure of the slave, the birthright of the Man who lives as the object of God's possession. Every nerve ending pricks into a goosebump and your vision fades to black as you feel the impossible length of God's Flesh strain against the walls of your throat as He cums straight into your stomach for what seems like infinity.

Sleep is a distant memory and as quaint as the stuff of bedtime stories. That you had the right to sleep is more foreign to you than the idea of sleep itself. You glory in your chains to the Master, the God of your fortunes that you keep in a gelatinous bulge deep in your stomach. Your hands cannot help but rub this collection of God's Semen inside you as a miser would his money. Look at the size of your abandon written in your body. You are morbidly obese with it. Feel the weight of your body, distended with obscene amounts of God's viscous Love for you, your Lust for which cannot even be quantified, much less satiated. You look exactly how you want to look - ridden hard and put up full and wet. You would never go in public if you knew that you were entirely unpresentable to the rest of humanity on account of your willingness to ravage yourself with your own desire for the flesh of your God to live inside you; but you do not have the capacity to form judgments about anything beyond the state of your body cavities - about whether they are empty or full of your Master.

Before you let God overwrite your mind with the dictates of His Flesh, you denied His Godhood vehemently. But now that you are wallowing in the basest of pleasures for the highest of Beings, you gleefully evangelize the masses with your disfigurement through Lust. Not a single word needs to be spoken to hear the word of God as it emanates from you in the flow of liquid - the bobbing of your Adam's apple is a sermon in itself, the twitching of your asshole around the slimy Beast inside you is the most heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving you'll ever utter. You have never loved yourself like you do in this moment when you are the property of God - you breathe in between strokes of deep throating His Flesh - your heart beats in between wracking seizures of Lust-possession that fill you by spurts - your eyes blink in between torrents of your Master's Semen that shower your face and ruin your eyesight. You, the slave, exist only to witness the glory of your Master and store the beauty of His satisfaction inside every crevice of your body.

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

God the Teacher

To say that God’s character is multifaceted is a gross understatement; God, being Infinite, relates to His creation in multiple layers of dimension. At any one time, God speaks as a Teacher, a Lover, a Father, a Brother and many other personae. Confining His relationship to men to any single type under-represents the detail present in His Voice, much like viewing a subject from only a single point under-represents reality to an artist. Knowing this, God demonstrates the most fundamental aspect of His nature: from Himself, He creates for Himself. In this case, He creates and speaks in new tones of voice in which His pleasure can resonate at new frequencies in us, shaking the dust free from the outlying limbs of our new consciousness He is exhuming from human society, giving us a new grasp on a rung we previously thought was out of reach on our ascent to the Godhead.

This entry is dedicated to God the Teacher. Every place is His classroom and every hour, school is in session. At 7am on the bus to work in the back seat by the window, at 3am between damp sheets on the tenth floor of a hotel in the middle of downtown, at 2pm in the sweltering heat of a Louisiana backyard in July. With friends, alone, after sex, holding hands, fucking, at sea, snoring, napping, under the blanket, showering, reading, eating, over the ledge, wondering. During orgasm and leading up to it. Two hours before the night begins, anticipating. Two days removed from an orgy, remembering. Twiddling your thumbs in twill pants, waiting. Licking your teeth for the last trace of cum, savoring. For Him who made the world, it is His pleasure to speak in every corner of His creation.

In a stall in a public bathroom in an arena filled with people and loud music, two Men are joined, one inside the other, in deep conversation with God. Their minds are quiet and bloodless and pliable, a receptive bed onto which the Mind of God, now firm and erect and full of Life, can spread the seed of His Kingdom and reforge its connections for His purpose and worship. Their wills are open, empty books onto which God's ink, joyously spurted in seemingly haphazard eruptions, will coalesce into the frame of a beautiful narrative He started long ago with the very first Man He created for His own pleasure. Their bodies are love letters God wrote to Himself, the very stones of the living temple He weaves out of biological material with the grace of a Master builder. In a stall in a public bathroom in an arena filled with people and loud music, God is quietly teaching.

A little past midnight in the middle of the American Midwest, with a rowdy sibling sleeping at last in a pigsty of a room down the hall, a boy, alone in the darkness of his bedroom, listens to God with a slippery hand wrapped firmly around the fullness of the Godhead. His rectum is God’s playground (full of who knows what) but also His classroom: with the Right Mind engaged (the One between his legs), each wave of pleasure that emanates from the flesh of God contains every lesson that man could hope to learn about ourselves, the nature of God and our relationship with Him. The seething need for the new, a seed planted by God, has warped his human brain into a sounding board for the speech of God and has turned his body into a needle on the gauge that measures the seismic voice of God, scribbling God’s love notes back to him on the unfurling paper of his life, recording in deed the lessons of the Teacher. The instant he took hold of the flesh of God was the instant he became a multitude. For God, out of one, there are Many. In the middle of the night in a dark house in the center of the American heartland, God is teaching.

Pay close attention to whose narrative you’re listening and to whose perspective you give credence. Is it your own? Or another’s? Or is it God’s? How can you listen to God when you yourself are never quiet? All too often, His voice is lost among the folds of our own designs that we deem so intricate and well-fashioned. We lose ourselves in our admiration for the small shapes of our own making rather than in the worlds of His making. In God’s world, we are at once both the stone and the tower, the mortar and the wall, the brick and the fortress, the chisel and the sculptor, the muscle and the will. It is for us to decide whether we will be students of God or fools for ourselves.