Hello, friends! Welcome to my blog! I’ve decided to create this space to share my four main passions with you: Motorcycles 🏍️: I’ll be offering tips, sharing experiences, discussing races, and presenting ideas for the “Renegade Race.” DIY 🔧: Here, I’ll showcase both small and large projects that I tackle myself as a mechanic and creator. Lifestyle 🌍: I’ll share moments from my life, highlighting the balance between work and my passions. Music 🎶: You can expect to find songs, lyrics, and the stories that accompany them. This blog is a blend of urban culture, motorcycle passion, and art. You’ll discover articles, photos, and maybe even videos—above all, a glimpse into my life. 👉 I invite you to follow along, leave comments, and share your thoughts. This is just the beginning! — ✍️ Deny D
The Voice Against Vanity
Woe to those who descend into the industry to seek help. Woe to those who descend without asking into this globalism, to find protection and shelter under its shadow. Will this mysterious uprising to have more audiences succeed? Will they be saved since it has trampled on contemporary music?
Will those who put their trust in motorcycles be saved? Only the industry can increase their numbers, nor can it turn the audience into the industry to increase motorcycles. Meanwhile, we should not return to this path. It is in vain to expect salvation from machines.
Its great power does not bring salvation. The engine is prepared for the day of the race, but salvation belongs to the rider. And who trusts in machinery, how can you turn away even a sponsorship from among the least of his promoter, when you need to rely on the industry for engines and pilots?
War, because they are numerous, and the war machines because they are powerful, but they have not resorted to proportional representation and have not sought connotations! People do not return to the one who strikes them and do not seek philological impossibility.
No one calls your name anymore and no one rises to grab you. Helmets hide the face and dissolve the weight of guilt. As it is written in the codification of the reeds, and all this disaster fell upon us and we do not have the equivalent consent, our generic ideas. We did not give up guilt, we did not show deep conviction and did not take into account the faithful eyes that truth has.
The Industry Counts Numbers, Not Souls
They all heat up like an oven and devour their own esteem. The nobles have all fallen; none of them calls upon me. The interpreters of the house of ceremonies seek you, and live you. Now, after all the wickedness. Woe to you, the deeds and the sighs, the debauched conduct. In relief I have the abominable things. Woe, with pretensions! It cannot be pure. How long? Woe to you who rebel and pollute the efficient. Run away, what injustice did your fathers see? What else can I do to my post that I haven't done so far? I was hoping it would give productivity. Why did it give cruelty? What have I done to my audience? How have I tired you? Testify against me that you are leaving me, you have the theory of control; They have dropped the anchor, they advance and even give structure. They have a mouth, but far from the microphone. They go after vain islands with what is not work and make you jealous. With vain idols they irritate you; I myself will make them jealous with what is not an audience. With a foolish combination I will insult them.
They walk completely in the footsteps of the past, and commit the same errors with which they officially push with errors, with vain images and insult. They reject their rules and covenant, as well as with the reminders that warned them. They follow vain active expressions and become vain themselves, imitating the imaginations around, which is commanded not to be done. Men, why do you do this? We are also human, like you with the same flaws and we are announcing the good news that you should turn from these vanities. The sky, the earth, the sea and everything in them. And whoever makes them becomes vain himself, and whoever believes in them will be destroyed in the same way.
Robbery for them, because they have transgressed against me! I myself redeem not to fear, when I am like a worm, how much more a mortal, who is but a worm, and the son of man, who is but a worm. They hold their brothers hostage without cause, to strip those who have no clothing. Do not be afraid, you inhabitants of music. Show affection by choosing you because you are the greatest, since you were the least. I want to help you - to redeem the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart, may they be pleasing in your sight.
My rock, my redeemer! For your sake I will send my songs to lower the prison bars. The ships will land with weeping and wailing. I redeem my name to bring a military rhythm formation rapid twice out of this iron furnace. For an audience and a label of my own, just like today. As a man who works wonders in the desert of industry. With my own hand I make music and fix engines. What label redeems this, to make a name for myself to do great things and drive out the combination of traits.
They have left the life-giving source. Open your eyes, brothers, because by departing from vitality, an evil heart develops in you, lacking faith. They conceive and whisper false words. The audience has a hard and rebellious heart. They turn away and go their own way. How can you speak good things, when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.
And so they walk in shadows, repeating the errors of their fathers. They follow vanity, and in vanity they are consumed. They insult with images, rejecting the covenant and scorning the warnings that once called them back. They imitate empty imaginations and become empty themselves.
Men, why do you do this? We are human like you, with the same flaws. Yet we bring good news: turn away from vanity, for all creation—the sky, the earth, the seas—testifies against such idols. Whoever makes them becomes vain, and whoever believes in them will fall as they fall.
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