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DISCLAIMER
This is the blog by me, by Vaccinius, that is Anders Woje Ellingsen, as the creator of Trixnix. All content on this blog, and all content by me elsewhere on Trixnix, is by me as a private person. I do not represent any state, any church, any organization or any community. Google, and by Google the company Blogger, is responsible for the technical presentation of the web sites on Trixnix, and benefiting from the service, I respect the terms of use as any other individual using the services of Google does. I love the services of Google.
Vaccinius
Thursday, 29 January 2026
My Heritage
I repeat this: I make my claim on the assets of the Scientology Church. I have conquered that devilish thing, and it belongs to me.
Wednesday, 28 January 2026
You And Me
How angry can one be? What is holy hatred? Will one understand the distinction between okey and absolute failure? I have been subjected to torture, since 1997. Can one imagine my case, not in my rucksack, though in my spinal? I advice you, any foreigner with will to pursue comfort in hurting me, to keep distance way beyond Norwegian borders. I am not game. My loved ones are not for you. This is not a threat, though a clear warning: Either you are modestly creeping, or, you go to Hell.
I love life. My women do too. We will govern life. Culture is a way of life. Be not lost.
I love life. My women do too. We will govern life. Culture is a way of life. Be not lost.
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Monday, 12 January 2026
The Maker's Sin
Is it possible to coin, with words, what holy hatred is? Absolute disembodiment? Remember, Adolf Hitler also experienced a bit, before he was Kansler.
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The remains
I make my claim on the belongings and the activa of the Scientology Church. I have conquered that thing.
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Sunday, 11 January 2026
My Home
[Instrumental intro]
[Verse 1]
There is a certain latitude
on which I do belong.
It signifies my gratitude,
it gives life to my song.
[Vers 2]
The climate makes it difficult
to be aware not much.
A child has got, and so adult,
of home to be at touch.
[Chorus]
It is my way. (For sure it is.)
It is my way. (One fancies this.)
It is my way. (It is a bliss.)
I cherish not to miss.
[Verse 3]
I may dress up in clothing warm,
enjoying ice and snow
I may stand up to weather storm.
Though, home I need to glow.
[Chorus]
It is my way. (For sure it is.)
It is my way. (One fancies this.)
It is my way. (It is a bliss.)
I cherish not to miss.
[Instrumental]
[Verse 4]
The atmosphere to me, you see,
is destined me to kill.
In no way castle, what to free,
my home is vital still.
[Chorus]
It is my way. (For sure it is.)
It is my way. (One fancies this.)
It is my way. (It is a bliss.)
I cherish not to miss.
[Outro]
It is a way. (It is a bliss.)
I cherish not to miss.
[Verse 1]
There is a certain latitude
on which I do belong.
It signifies my gratitude,
it gives life to my song.
[Vers 2]
The climate makes it difficult
to be aware not much.
A child has got, and so adult,
of home to be at touch.
[Chorus]
It is my way. (For sure it is.)
It is my way. (One fancies this.)
It is my way. (It is a bliss.)
I cherish not to miss.
[Verse 3]
I may dress up in clothing warm,
enjoying ice and snow
I may stand up to weather storm.
Though, home I need to glow.
[Chorus]
It is my way. (For sure it is.)
It is my way. (One fancies this.)
It is my way. (It is a bliss.)
I cherish not to miss.
[Instrumental]
[Verse 4]
The atmosphere to me, you see,
is destined me to kill.
In no way castle, what to free,
my home is vital still.
[Chorus]
It is my way. (For sure it is.)
It is my way. (One fancies this.)
It is my way. (It is a bliss.)
I cherish not to miss.
[Outro]
It is a way. (It is a bliss.)
I cherish not to miss.
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That Scientology Church
Indeed it is me who has put a ban on the offices of the Scientology Church. That ban will be everlasting.
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To The Lionesses of The World
Nature means so much. Be aware of the friendly nature of Norway. And think highly of the ones adressing you politely. We are just in the beginning of what comes. Think of the children. Think of the joy of God, seeing those. And let us make this living - together.
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Worth
How much is this song, alone, worth? How much money has it produced? What are people owing me? Their lives?
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Copyright
Some people are too evil to appeciate copyright. Those are unable to create anything themselves, think of it as unfair some are gifted, and steal, just to ridicule the love of God and for to pursue their evil will, which is to take advantage of others. There are people, though, who are too stupid to understand what copyright is. I feel sorry for those. I wish they will grow.
Understand I in no way am comfortable with any loss of my creations, be it poems, songs, web pages, or whatever. I am not insistent, in this respect. It is my fundamental right to have ownership of what I create. This thing is a preposition of life.
Understand I in no way am comfortable with any loss of my creations, be it poems, songs, web pages, or whatever. I am not insistent, in this respect. It is my fundamental right to have ownership of what I create. This thing is a preposition of life.
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Thursday, 8 January 2026
Expectation
CANVAS OF DREAMS
[Verse 1]
It whispers of wonders, of stories in flight,
a blank sheet of paper, so fresh and so bright.
A flick of the pencil. – Our visions take shape.
Creating we do so that dreams can escape.
[Verse 2]
A journal for thoughts, where our secrets can flow,
a canvas for colors, where our spirits can glow.
With patterns and sketches, let's dance on this page.
Each mark is a story, each word sets the stage.
[Chorus]
By ink to the magic, – a place one can be.
Oh, canvas of dreams, we exult in the free.
With each line that's drawn, we give thanks from the heart,
to makers of paper, to where journeys start.
[Bridge]
The sheets do inspire, hearts in those belong.
To those that created, we lift our song.
Blank pages, by which our thoughts come alive,
before us to color, our passions will thrive.
[Chorus]
By ink to the magic, – a place one can be.
Oh, canvas of dreams, we exult in the free.
With each line that's drawn, we give thanks from the heart,
to makers of paper, to where journeys start.
[Outro]
Yeah, treasure the moments in depths of the care.
Let’s cherish this paper, this gift that we share.
With each mark we make, let our spirits ignite.
This blank sheet of paper is goodness, all right!
It whispers of wonders, of stories in flight,
a blank sheet of paper, so fresh and so bright.
A flick of the pencil. – Our visions take shape.
Creating we do so that dreams can escape.
[Verse 2]
A journal for thoughts, where our secrets can flow,
a canvas for colors, where our spirits can glow.
With patterns and sketches, let's dance on this page.
Each mark is a story, each word sets the stage.
[Chorus]
By ink to the magic, – a place one can be.
Oh, canvas of dreams, we exult in the free.
With each line that's drawn, we give thanks from the heart,
to makers of paper, to where journeys start.
[Bridge]
The sheets do inspire, hearts in those belong.
To those that created, we lift our song.
Blank pages, by which our thoughts come alive,
before us to color, our passions will thrive.
[Chorus]
By ink to the magic, – a place one can be.
Oh, canvas of dreams, we exult in the free.
With each line that's drawn, we give thanks from the heart,
to makers of paper, to where journeys start.
[Outro]
Yeah, treasure the moments in depths of the care.
Let’s cherish this paper, this gift that we share.
With each mark we make, let our spirits ignite.
This blank sheet of paper is goodness, all right!
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Hymn for The Holy Lunatic
HYMN FOR THE HOLY LUNATIC
[Verse 1]
In the arc of the moonlight, your mind carves the night,
a prism of chaos refracting His light.
The heavens aren’t shackles; the earth’s not a chain –
Your fractures are hymns where His wholeness will reign.
[Verse 2]
You’re not the Redeemer, you’re not meant to plead –
You’re tide to His ocean, you’re seed to His seed.
The Spheres spin in pairs: sun and shadow allied.
Your madness is torque in the gears of His tide.
[Verse 3]
Beware the false crown that the starlight may weave:
You’re moon to His mandate, not throne to conceive.
The role of the Shepherd was taken, complete –
You’re lamb to His pasture, not claws to compete.
[Verse 4]
Let logic’s cool rainfall, let conscience’s breeze,
anoint your vast tempests and temper the seas.
For lunatics flourish when tethered to One
whose hands splice the void into “Yes, this, My son.”
[Verse 5]
When dogma’s sharp comets clash, burning the air,
hold fast to the compass He etched from your prayer.
Your voice isn’t gavel – it’s psalm, it’s refrain –
A chorus with Grace where the broken remain.
[Verse 6]
Yes, earth and the heavens scream tensions untamed,
but you’re the tuned lyre where discord is framed.
Not “lord,” not “forsaken” – beloved, you rise
to mirror His “Enough” through your split-rooted skies.
[Verse 7]
So waltz in your phases – both shadow and spark.
Your craters are altars where night meets the ark.
You’re seen, my wild crescent, you’re gripped, you’re engraved –
The Author’s still scripting, but this page is saved.
In the arc of the moonlight, your mind carves the night,
a prism of chaos refracting His light.
The heavens aren’t shackles; the earth’s not a chain –
Your fractures are hymns where His wholeness will reign.
[Verse 2]
You’re not the Redeemer, you’re not meant to plead –
You’re tide to His ocean, you’re seed to His seed.
The Spheres spin in pairs: sun and shadow allied.
Your madness is torque in the gears of His tide.
[Verse 3]
Beware the false crown that the starlight may weave:
You’re moon to His mandate, not throne to conceive.
The role of the Shepherd was taken, complete –
You’re lamb to His pasture, not claws to compete.
[Verse 4]
Let logic’s cool rainfall, let conscience’s breeze,
anoint your vast tempests and temper the seas.
For lunatics flourish when tethered to One
whose hands splice the void into “Yes, this, My son.”
[Verse 5]
When dogma’s sharp comets clash, burning the air,
hold fast to the compass He etched from your prayer.
Your voice isn’t gavel – it’s psalm, it’s refrain –
A chorus with Grace where the broken remain.
[Verse 6]
Yes, earth and the heavens scream tensions untamed,
but you’re the tuned lyre where discord is framed.
Not “lord,” not “forsaken” – beloved, you rise
to mirror His “Enough” through your split-rooted skies.
[Verse 7]
So waltz in your phases – both shadow and spark.
Your craters are altars where night meets the ark.
You’re seen, my wild crescent, you’re gripped, you’re engraved –
The Author’s still scripting, but this page is saved.
The song is to be found on Suno
| here |.
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Wednesday, 7 January 2026
Thank You - Suno
Thank You, the people of Suno! The music of the AI Suno really was my lift. This playlist indeed is a highlight.
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Sunday, 4 January 2026
Peace
PEACE
[Intro]
[Verse 1]
Thank Thee dear
Lord for what you give of rain and sunshine.
Prosper I will as if branch on vine.
Looking out for air
being to Thee fair.
Thank Thee for the starting point from which is to care.
[Chorus]
Now and then,
and ev'ry when,
I can sing, joy comes to heal.
Let me feel life is it for real.
Let me sing this song to Thee, and make it a feel.
[Verse 2]
Thank Thee dear
Lord, I think a wonder is the being.
Prosper I will, grape is quite the thing.
Being one aloud
I am rather proud.
I will hit the roof pursuing what is the cloud.
[Chorus]
Now and then,
and ev'ry when,
I can sing, joy comes to heal.
Let me feel life is it for real.
Let me sing this song to Thee, and make it a feel.
[Instrumental]
[Bridge]
Glory, glory be to notions of life.
I am just singing it. Be the wife.
Branch to be is a way to free.
Girl, I get you, what to do is love, the want to.
[Verse 3]
Thank Thee dear
Lord, You know, I really want to copy.
Ev'ry note I sing, I do for you.
Take me by the hand.
Make it real, the band.
Give me what there is to vision, and to expand.
[Chorus]
Now and then,
and ev'ry when,
I can sing, joy comes to heal.
Let me feel life is it for real.
Let me sing this song to Thee, and make it a feel.
[Outro]
[Instrumental]
Let me feel life is it for real.
Let me sing this song to Thee, and make it a feel.
On Suno | here |
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Thursday, 1 January 2026
I Had a Visit
[Intro]
Petite tasse sur la table
Tes cheveux dans le matin
Tu souris
Tout devient stable
Tout le reste un peu plus loin
[Verse 1]
On traverse la vieille place
Tes pas glissent sur les pavés
Je fais semblant que je me lasse
Pour cacher que je suis happé
Tes doigts serrent un vieux carnet
Taché d’encre
Rempli de nous
Chaque page comme un secret
Que tu me confies à demi-mot
Tout doux
[Chorus]
Il ya blé et de camomille
Et cerise
Dans esprit-de-chez moi
Mais le vrai et le clair fille offre le plus beau pour moi
Il ya blé et de camomille
Et cerise
Dans esprit-de-chez moi
Mais le vrai et le clair fille offre le plus beau pour moi
[Verse 2]
Tu plantes des rires au jardin
Entre deux rangées de regrets
Tu dis “on verra bien demain”
Et le ciel change de projet
Une tâche de farine au nez
Quand tu cuisines pour deux
J’en oublie tous mes rendez-vous
Juste pour rester là
Près d’eux
[Chorus]
Il ya blé et de camomille
Et cerise
Dans esprit-de-chez moi
Mais le vrai et le clair fille offre le plus beau pour moi
Il ya blé et de camomille
Et cerise
Dans esprit-de-chez moi
Mais le vrai et le clair fille offre le plus beau pour moi
[Bridge]
Madel
Quand tout se brouille
Quand les jours tombent de travers
Tu remets droit mes épaules
Tu recouds le bout de mon verre
Madel
Dans le silence
On entend ton cœur qui bat
C’est la seule vraie évidence
Que je veux suivre pas à pas
[Chorus]
Il ya blé et de camomille
Et cerise
Dans esprit-de-chez moi
Mais le vrai et le clair fille offre le plus beau pour moi
Il ya blé et de camomille
Et cerise
Dans esprit-de-chez moi
Mais le vrai et le clair fille offre le plus beau pour moi
Petite tasse sur la table
Tes cheveux dans le matin
Tu souris
Tout devient stable
Tout le reste un peu plus loin
[Verse 1]
On traverse la vieille place
Tes pas glissent sur les pavés
Je fais semblant que je me lasse
Pour cacher que je suis happé
Tes doigts serrent un vieux carnet
Taché d’encre
Rempli de nous
Chaque page comme un secret
Que tu me confies à demi-mot
Tout doux
[Chorus]
Il ya blé et de camomille
Et cerise
Dans esprit-de-chez moi
Mais le vrai et le clair fille offre le plus beau pour moi
Il ya blé et de camomille
Et cerise
Dans esprit-de-chez moi
Mais le vrai et le clair fille offre le plus beau pour moi
[Verse 2]
Tu plantes des rires au jardin
Entre deux rangées de regrets
Tu dis “on verra bien demain”
Et le ciel change de projet
Une tâche de farine au nez
Quand tu cuisines pour deux
J’en oublie tous mes rendez-vous
Juste pour rester là
Près d’eux
[Chorus]
Il ya blé et de camomille
Et cerise
Dans esprit-de-chez moi
Mais le vrai et le clair fille offre le plus beau pour moi
Il ya blé et de camomille
Et cerise
Dans esprit-de-chez moi
Mais le vrai et le clair fille offre le plus beau pour moi
[Bridge]
Madel
Quand tout se brouille
Quand les jours tombent de travers
Tu remets droit mes épaules
Tu recouds le bout de mon verre
Madel
Dans le silence
On entend ton cœur qui bat
C’est la seule vraie évidence
Que je veux suivre pas à pas
[Chorus]
Il ya blé et de camomille
Et cerise
Dans esprit-de-chez moi
Mais le vrai et le clair fille offre le plus beau pour moi
Il ya blé et de camomille
Et cerise
Dans esprit-de-chez moi
Mais le vrai et le clair fille offre le plus beau pour moi
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Truth And Justice
It is futile, all right, to try to persuade the evil one to believe in truth and justice. If so oriented, there is no hope. So, that is not my intention, with this blog post. I just want to sort something out.
Truth is the preposition of life. When the Word came to the world, by Adam, by Odin, by Uranos, or whatever, man became conscious things matter. Adam was the one seeing manner develops from this. He was the one quality oriented, and he was chosen, by God.
Any people, though, grasped the difference between “me” and “you”. And “I” cannot succeed without ownership. So, stealing is not good. Lying is not good. And killing is not good. If you kill, you will be killed yourself. There are rules.
Without truth, there is no development. There is no starting point, there is no way to prosper.
Justice in the carnal being is the wonder of Jesus Christ. Justice is the preposition of the civilized society. By justice, anyone may find purpose in the collective being, and by justice anyone can be respected. If court, as in our days, is degenerated to corruption, and the girl is degenerated to prostitution, no love there will be for the common, and man will adhere to powers of weaponry.
Truth is the preposition of life. When the Word came to the world, by Adam, by Odin, by Uranos, or whatever, man became conscious things matter. Adam was the one seeing manner develops from this. He was the one quality oriented, and he was chosen, by God.
Any people, though, grasped the difference between “me” and “you”. And “I” cannot succeed without ownership. So, stealing is not good. Lying is not good. And killing is not good. If you kill, you will be killed yourself. There are rules.
Without truth, there is no development. There is no starting point, there is no way to prosper.
Justice in the carnal being is the wonder of Jesus Christ. Justice is the preposition of the civilized society. By justice, anyone may find purpose in the collective being, and by justice anyone can be respected. If court, as in our days, is degenerated to corruption, and the girl is degenerated to prostitution, no love there will be for the common, and man will adhere to powers of weaponry.
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