Basic Info
About Me
Welcome everyone and nice to meet you. My name is Lion. A man of two nations and many talents. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. Commander of Спецназ ФСБ "Альфа" aka Alpha Group and SFOD-D aka Delta Force. I've been awarded the highest honorary title Hero of the Russian Federation with the Gold Star medal (an insignia of honor for my service), the Medal of Honor (the highest and most prestigious decoration) and 105 Bronze Stars with the "V" device for acts of valor in combat. My motto: "To forgive the terrorists is up to God, but to send them to Him is up to me". I'm not just a human being, i am immortal. I'm the greatest of all time. A legend. An icon. And in this world that you all inhabit, i am God. I'm the best ever and i only ask for respect. Btw, my profile's song is especially and proudly dedicated to X.A. Nuff said. Now gimme a hell yeah.
It's always been that way. Death created time to grow the things that it would kill. So, i don't want to know anything anymore. This is a world where nothing is solved and time is a flat circle. Everything we've ever done – or will do, we're gonna do over and over and over again. And that little boy (my son), and that little girl (my wife), they're gonna be in that room again and again and again forever. You already know it: all your life, all your love, all your hate, all your memories, all your pain; it was all the same thing; it was all the same dream, a dream that you had inside a locked room, a dream about being a person. And, like alot of dreams, there's a monster at the end of it.
To E.K: Now they have completed so many years since that very moment when outside the cemetery, scoundrels and goblins were kicking your neglected body being naked without a cerement. And your eyes -which seemed to be made of glass- were staring at them with a grievance full of bitterness. May you rest in peace, my love.
REQUIEM: To the Rangers who made the ultimate sacrifice. To the wives who will now walk alone. To the children who will grow up fatherless. To the parents who will never see their son grow old. To all the families that have an empty seat at the dinner table. To the nation that lost one of her best. To the men who must court demons every time they close their eyes. To the Regiment: past, present and future. One for the Airborne Ranger in the Sky: my best friend ever, my backup in Iraqi war Chris Kyle: I will always remember you that way brother just because you were so happy that day. You are not alone: Taya, Colton and McKenna are always praying for you. I pray for you too. Thank you so very much for saving my life in Fallujah. So, remember: when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated. You know it: cowards die many times before their deaths. So from this day to the ending of the world, we in it shall be remembered. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; for he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother. May you rest in peace, Tex. You are missed. Cya in Ramadi.. Your Commander.
MY INFERNO: We are fundamentally alone, Chris. Nothing lasts. There's no purpose to any of it. Whether you believe me or not, there's nothing worth killing or dying for. And the real truth is, there's nothing worth living for, either.
To X.A: Someday the one you're pushing away will leave. He will leave and he will take with him everything that he ever gave you and you didn't appreciate, everything you took for granted. Someday he will stop wandering alone in a road made for two, he will squeeze his teeth, lick his own wounds and he will stop looking for you. He will leave, don't doubt. No one has ever stayed because of dignity, only because of love But someday, even love, just for dignity, leaves as well.
To X.A: You gave me peace in a lifetime of war; and i still remember your words Ninina: "Is there any life before death? Are the dead as lonesome as the living?" Since you ask, most days i cannot remember. I walk in my clothing, unmarked by that voyage. Then the almost unnameable lust returns. Even then i have nothing against life. I know well the grass blades you mention, the furniture you have placed under the sun. But suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build. Twice i have so simply declared myself, have possessed the enemy, eaten the enemy, have taken on his craft, his magic. In this way, heavy and thoughtful, warmer than oil or water, i have rested, drooling at the mouth–hole. I did not think of my body at needle point. Even the cornea and the leftover urine were gone. Suicides have already betrayed the body. Still–born, they don't always die, but dazzled, they can't forget a drug so sweet that even children would look on and smile. To thrust all that life under your tongue! — that, all by itself, becomes a passion. Death's a sad bone; bruised, you'd say, and yet she waits for me, year after year, to so delicately undo an old wound, to empty my breath from its bad prison. Balanced there, suicides sometimes meet, raging at the fruit, a pumped–up moon, leaving the bread they mistook for a kiss, leaving the page of the book carelessly open, something unsaid, the phone off the hook and the love, whatever it was, an infection.
To JESUS CHRIST: Crucified One, you are crucified upon my heart. And the nails that pierce your hands pierce the walls of my heart. And tomorrow, when a stranger passes by this Golgotha, he will not know that two bled here. He will deem it the blood of one man. Still there.. At night i see their faces. They're standing there on the far bank of the river Balikh. They're waiting for me.. They say: Welcome, brother.
It's always been that way. Death created time to grow the things that it would kill. So, i don't want to know anything anymore. This is a world where nothing is solved and time is a flat circle. Everything we've ever done – or will do, we're gonna do over and over and over again. And that little boy (my son), and that little girl (my wife), they're gonna be in that room again and again and again forever. You already know it: all your life, all your love, all your hate, all your memories, all your pain; it was all the same thing; it was all the same dream, a dream that you had inside a locked room, a dream about being a person. And, like alot of dreams, there's a monster at the end of it.
To E.K: Now they have completed so many years since that very moment when outside the cemetery, scoundrels and goblins were kicking your neglected body being naked without a cerement. And your eyes -which seemed to be made of glass- were staring at them with a grievance full of bitterness. May you rest in peace, my love.
REQUIEM: To the Rangers who made the ultimate sacrifice. To the wives who will now walk alone. To the children who will grow up fatherless. To the parents who will never see their son grow old. To all the families that have an empty seat at the dinner table. To the nation that lost one of her best. To the men who must court demons every time they close their eyes. To the Regiment: past, present and future. One for the Airborne Ranger in the Sky: my best friend ever, my backup in Iraqi war Chris Kyle: I will always remember you that way brother just because you were so happy that day. You are not alone: Taya, Colton and McKenna are always praying for you. I pray for you too. Thank you so very much for saving my life in Fallujah. So, remember: when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated. You know it: cowards die many times before their deaths. So from this day to the ending of the world, we in it shall be remembered. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; for he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother. May you rest in peace, Tex. You are missed. Cya in Ramadi.. Your Commander.
MY INFERNO: We are fundamentally alone, Chris. Nothing lasts. There's no purpose to any of it. Whether you believe me or not, there's nothing worth killing or dying for. And the real truth is, there's nothing worth living for, either.
To X.A: Someday the one you're pushing away will leave. He will leave and he will take with him everything that he ever gave you and you didn't appreciate, everything you took for granted. Someday he will stop wandering alone in a road made for two, he will squeeze his teeth, lick his own wounds and he will stop looking for you. He will leave, don't doubt. No one has ever stayed because of dignity, only because of love But someday, even love, just for dignity, leaves as well.
To X.A: You gave me peace in a lifetime of war; and i still remember your words Ninina: "Is there any life before death? Are the dead as lonesome as the living?" Since you ask, most days i cannot remember. I walk in my clothing, unmarked by that voyage. Then the almost unnameable lust returns. Even then i have nothing against life. I know well the grass blades you mention, the furniture you have placed under the sun. But suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build. Twice i have so simply declared myself, have possessed the enemy, eaten the enemy, have taken on his craft, his magic. In this way, heavy and thoughtful, warmer than oil or water, i have rested, drooling at the mouth–hole. I did not think of my body at needle point. Even the cornea and the leftover urine were gone. Suicides have already betrayed the body. Still–born, they don't always die, but dazzled, they can't forget a drug so sweet that even children would look on and smile. To thrust all that life under your tongue! — that, all by itself, becomes a passion. Death's a sad bone; bruised, you'd say, and yet she waits for me, year after year, to so delicately undo an old wound, to empty my breath from its bad prison. Balanced there, suicides sometimes meet, raging at the fruit, a pumped–up moon, leaving the bread they mistook for a kiss, leaving the page of the book carelessly open, something unsaid, the phone off the hook and the love, whatever it was, an infection.
To JESUS CHRIST: Crucified One, you are crucified upon my heart. And the nails that pierce your hands pierce the walls of my heart. And tomorrow, when a stranger passes by this Golgotha, he will not know that two bled here. He will deem it the blood of one man. Still there.. At night i see their faces. They're standing there on the far bank of the river Balikh. They're waiting for me.. They say: Welcome, brother.
Phone#
30 6972347434
