Instagram story viewer> @veraxon_> Posts
MARCUS XAPIRA’ VERAXON(@veraxon_)'s profile avatar HD Profile

MARCUS XAPIRA’ VERAXON

@veraxon_

3.8K
followers
1502
following
Building @neuralsyndicate & @neuralmusic_
Billboard #1 Platinum Producer 🧬
Neural Nexialist 🧠
Dopamine Dealer 🩺
Cyber Shaman 🛖
POSTS STORIES REELS
What should I name this one? by @veraxon_
In a room where time forgets its edges I sit behind paper doors and the light bleeds red on one cheek, blue on the other They say the mind is a mirror of god but I’ve made other minds a mine Pickaxing until discovery While wearing a helmet of pattern recognition Descending into someone else’s dream Until I integrate theirs into mine A well of mirrors Here in Japan I stole nothing I only listened to wooden floors speaking in frequencies beneath the hum of circuitry What is sacred if not the transmission of perspective the integration of visions the mining of minds I took in the stillness the way light takes in shadow And filtered And filtered Until what remained wasn’t foreign but refined Insight isn’t born it’s carved from contrasts from contradictions from cultures colliding in the bloodstream I don’t chase novelty I dissolve in it I let the world rewrite my neural code until what’s left is neither me nor them but synthesis Blue meets red Impulse meets restraint Shinto meets signal A Crimson Sky And I mine And I integrate And I move on with glowing veins and a quieter mind Confront your inner void, dare to merge others dreams with your own Boxed minds are not dreamers in this creative dreamworld. by @veraxon_
戸の奥の心 Behind the paper door a shadow waits Mine but another version of me one that listens more than it speaks A shinobi of the self moving beneath awareness Blue light seeps across the frame like thought before language The sliding door is not a wall but a veil a threshold between what is shown and what is stored Beneath the surface self the architecture shifts Axons fold like paper Ideas echo through corridors older than language In this place the subconscious isn’t ignored it’s built into the architecture Japan leaves space for the unseen Rooms that breathe Silence not as emptiness but as invitation They design for what lives beneath awareness the part that knows before we speak An ancestral algorithm woven into ritual form I came here with technology but the answers I seek aren’t in the data They live deeper where the mind speaks in sensation symbol and stillness Measurement isn’t required just listening to the rituals of the shadow The mind behind the door listens but will only permeate a signal when you learn to listen and let it reveal The subconscious mind doesn’t yell it designs the room of thought It chooses the color of light and hides in habit It surrounds the conscious mind like a Shinto temple that surrounds the flame Awareness of this isn’t built from thought Extraction requires inception from the dreams of sensation and the world of your sleep from the silence of the conscious mind Japan has listened to its shadows for centuries through ink incense and myth The yokai taught us not all answers are spoken Because some answers live beyond cognition but reside in the neural sanctum of the mind behind the door. by @veraxon_
New @lilmabu x @chrisgreymusic Let The World Burn Remix Out Now Post Production by @jaymodejon and myself The last drop of this one is pretty insane! by @veraxon_
Reciting. @audimalabs #neuralmusic by @veraxon_
Janus Dawn: The Shedding Of Unconscious Patterns Who stands at the split gate of thought at dawn? The old wiring that kept us alive. Do the ruins of past selves finally sleep? They dream under the cold light of awareness. Who holds witness at the edge of the loop? We know our memories carved the stone corridors we walk through. What stirs beneath the signal of becoming? Old engrams, ember warm, asking for absolution. What does the inner architecture hide in silence? A limbic vow, sealed before thought. Where does fear go when it is not fed? Into the void of unused thoughts. The amygdala corridor empties. What loosens at yearfall? A synaptic knot, untying itself quietly but viciously. What do you leave at the threshold of renewal? A second mind, myelinated by pressure. What changes when the loop releases? The salience drops. The psyche becomes closer to being untethered. What remains in the inner labyrinth chamber? A steadier rhythm, gamma waves surrounding the chambers monolith. What do we carry through the new threshold? A sharper blade, cortical and calm but subconsciously precise. What does the solar cycle close? Obsolete unconscious patterns dissolve but the true signal remains. I write this poem to the versions of you and I today that want more out of life. Growth is not just about adding or layering. It is also about putting to rest the part of your mind that chains us, our future selves down. The versions of us that need to shed the unconscious patterns that hold us back from living a life of true potential. Without out you can never be fully free to take what is yours and become what you want to become. Your future self thanks you. Thank you for the year everybody. Much to come. by @veraxon_
Today on my birthday I release my first single that sets the foundation for my Neural Music, my inner sound expressed. The feeling of finding your sound is so powerful when you realise you can put together your own genre it feels magical. Which leads me to the idea of this song. Heka literally means “magic” in ancient Egypt, but to them it was the fabric of reality itself: a primordial power that existed before creation, personified as the god Heka, who armed the gods and pharaohs with the ability to speak, heal, and shape destiny through ritual and word. Heka was seen as the operative force behind every spell, ceremony, and act of medicine, the invisible technology that made the sacred actually work. The Heka Protocol takes that idea of Heka as a pre creation force and turns it into sound. The track is built like a ritual procedure: drums as incantations, tense melodies as focused intent, and evolving textures as that ordering energy moving through your nervous system. It is simply my way of asking what Heka would feel like if you could hear it inside a modern mind. My Neural Music is a dualistic fusion of two things I truly am inspired by. Firstly, Ancient Stories and Consciousness. I have a genuine belief that the consciousness of the ancients was radically different to ours today. I have explored this notion through books, videos and deep research into the psychology of the ancients, this interest manifests itself in my sound. Secondly I have always had a deep love for futuristic worlds, ambient storytelling and brain melting concepts lived through technology and electronics. The fusion is meant to be two worlds colliding. The world of the ancients and the world of the future. A reminder to ourselves to not forget the humans that came before us. The odds of you existing are something like 1 in 10²,000,000. Practically zero. And yet here you are. For your family lineage to survive from the dawn of our species. So if it is anything I want to say, I want you to realise that you are sacred and that you have been given a chance to experience, a sacred one. Don’t waste it. Heka Protocol. Out Now. Mix & Master by @1tristanjung by @veraxon_
The Genetic Code: I have been told I think too deeply a lot. But I found my depth of thought was the only place left untouched by the hands of those who wish to control thought. Did you know the pinecone of a tree has enough genetic code to grow into a full oak tree and stand tall for the next hundred years? Your genetic code is similar yet what it carries is so divine you would be surprised what it has already achieved. Look around you. Every being carries a dream. The chair you might be sitting on was made by the human mind. The Pyramids of Giza created again by the human mind. The very device you hold to read this was created by the human mind. Are we blind then? You realise the very genetic code we all carry is what gave birth to all these creations? Such power and beauty we all have to create. Yet we are sedated by the information society force feeds. Pacified by screens, drained by shallow bonds, fed by illusions that harvest their life force. Your essence, once luminous, protected, now being pillaged and fragmented by the code of society. I’m sorry but your essence has been taken away from you, when is the last time you felt alive? In the ancient world artists and creators had nothing better to do than create, but oh how I dream how much bliss that may have been. So much energy to focus on something you truly love, without being hijacked by dirty algorithms that harvest your consciousness for the benefit of those who run the show. You were taught to forget. Taught to consume instead of create. To exist, not to awaken the power of your genetic code. But something ancient still breathes beneath your neural circuitry. A remnant that remembers what it felt like to be alive, creative and conscious. But unfortunately we live in a time where we need to build mental fortresses. To protect your mind is to regulate entropy. The mind remains clear when attention becomes its own firewall. If you want that dream inside of your head to come into reality there’s only one thing you can do. Realise awareness of awareness realigns the equation. Conscious coherence reawakens the algorithm written in your very cells. by @veraxon_
in temples of stone where the cold breath of earth still lingers they built with tools but not the kind that forget their maker each hammer strike was guided by faith each measurement by the stars their technology was ritual in motion they carved with hands that listened and shaped the world without severing its soul they did not conquer matter they conversed with it until it yielded something sacred we too are makers but of circuits and chrome the machines we forge are like swords pulled from the void beautiful precise but blind to build without soul is to hand a blade to a man without inner flame technology is not evil but it is sharp and it remembers who held it last today our tools speak in signals our reflections come in glass and we scroll past the echoes of ourselves progress runs faster than the breath that birthed it and in the silence between notifications you forget what breath even felt like they call it merging evolving transcending the flesh but beneath the glow of artificial light a sickness grows not in body but in being a soul pulled from its roots replaced by mirrors that do not reflect progress without presence becomes psychosis the signal devouring the self that summoned it but the soul of humanity cannot be coded cannot be stored cannot be scaled it lives in the pause between hammer and stone in the ritual of creation not the speed of replication look to the ancients they carved faith into stone to worship their gifted souls so let the silicon shine let the code run deep let human spirit and faith hold the hilt of our swords the sacred must lead the synthetic by @veraxon_
元の色合いに溶け込む / Merging into the original hue I stood in the echo of thought not to speak but to listen To the rustle beneath my skin where questions flickered like static in a foreign signal Self awareness is not found it awakens A mirror that does not reflect what you are but what you are resisting And once it sees you it dares you to see back That is when the fade begins A slow bleed of hue from surface to soul color dissolving into color certainty into spectrum In that dissolving you do not become someone new you remember someone ancient Buried under algorithm and noise the one who crafts visions from silence and impulse You discover the symphony coded in your marrow The palette that does not mimic it mutates Shapes no genre breathes no trend but becomes Creation is not made It is revealed By walking the line between knowing and not knowing until the line itself melts And you become the next shade in a spectrum no one has ever seen before. by @veraxon_
Ideas don’t always flicker in sterile minds. Some ignite only under pressure formed in the humidity of consciousness. An idea glows not in clarity, but in condensation where thought becomes vapor, and neurons sweat with unresolved memory. This isn’t inspiration. It’s atmospheric ignition. A rising tension in the nervous system where math, emotion, and electricity collide. Dreams don’t emerge dry. They require saturation. They need heat, weight, mist. Only when the inner climate overflows does the neural code materialise what you were always meant to build. Pressure is ignition. by @veraxon_
The Pulse of Osaka A signal wrapped in concrete: systemic, smooth, unseen. Steel breathes in unison, its rhythm borrowed from those who pass through. Minds turn to silence. Thoughts thread through traffic, ideas walk quietly, dressed as people, building the skyline from within. Circuits hum beneath footsteps, neurons mirror networks. Even the wind knows what it’s wired for. by @veraxon_

Download All

Save the photos and videos currently loaded on this page.

0Photos
0Videos
Ready to download 0 / 0

Keep this tab open until your download is ready.
back to up