Dog Poet Transmitting.......
They are not free from the slipstreams of the sky... these actors. These showboats without life vests, who cannot swim. These Kismet candies without any sweeteners. These centerpieces for a toilet-log dinner. This festival of lights in utter darkness, devoid of light. This excrement on the sandals of angels who only play one on TV. These prescription mills for The Brown Acid. These distortion lenses faking 3-D in the mind. These endless entertainments that are not entertaining. These wide lonesome prairies where it will not stop raining. Words forever fail to capture the depth of the sunken-in wrecks, who fellate demons in the darkness, where the last word is "Next."
Victoria Neuland could play The Whore of Babylon if she did not look like an ugly man. She has all the other deficits listed as assets. She is a vivid and living tale of the things Dorian Grey could not look upon and live. She is Lovecraft's diseased daughter of the imagination. She makes Cthulhu run for his life in search of therapy, AND... she's still here
Where was I? Boy! Am I glad I don't pay attention to the chatter. There is so much chatter that it sounds like the laugh track at the end of the world. How many times have I seen Porky Pig's face, coming out of a cumulonimbus, cloud circle? Over by the horizon line as The Sun is coming up. Going; "ah-vi-bad-dha vi-bad-dha... that's all folks." By now, I know it begins and ends in the moment, as proof of time passing, over the face of WHAT DOES NOT CHANGE.
Buddha... Buddha... Buddha-bap says the machine gun scream. The snarling ricochet of actions having consequences, like a racket-ball game in an ever more congested room. Good thing they're using hand grenades; no deposit... no return. That is what I am talking about! Eventually... people pray for death, but Death will not come. It's a far cry from the halcyon days of Spring. It is a place where the crying does not stop. There are such places as that. Now you see the corporations bringing Humanity to heel. Now you see what comes when one loses eternal vigilance.
Where there is money there is crime. Where there is desire there is error. Where there is passion there is impatience. Love is warmth and Truth is light.
Watch them gather. They collect in dark places to scheme against The Light. Should we be at all dismayed? What was your part in the mimesis when childhood was destroyed? Is that your skin in the game? One is either binding or setting free. This should explain all you ever need to know about magic and its ends... as well as your own.
Whut the hayul does that meen?
I hope you remember what has been said so often here about appearances; the way things look and seem. Often we recognize something because we have seen or experienced it before. We might remember it because we associate it with someone or something else. We might remember it because it happened in the same place or at the same time as whatever it was.
In The World of Eternal Childhood, you can no longer be seen by The Mortal Eye. You can see them though, if your attention may fall on them. Some there are who wear their bodies as a disguise. We all do... unless something ineffable is streaming through us. That disguise is what gets between us and God. In an Eastern image, given by... I can't remember who, the narrator is saying that Krishna is walking up ahead of you but Radha interposes herself between you and Krishna so that you can no longer see Krishna.
Nature does this amazing thing by putting a pretty face on your opposite number to attract you into the mating ritual. Those seeking to destroy us know what the result is... if the dynamics of the ritual are changed, altered, distorted. It's like looking at your face in a funhouse mirror. Your features no longer look like you. This is WHY there is so much perversity and sexual ambivalence at this time. They need to kill out beauty and innocence. They need to get rid of refinement and order. They need to plunge our circumstances into chaos by dividing us against ourselves... and then against each other, so that they might rule over us.
During the Segway years, the Supreme Court declared that corporations had PERSONHOOD. Corporations were already at the control panel because they wanted to control how we think... so that they could sell us whatever temporary garbage they have repackaged to that end. Then came The Cellphone and Social Media. This opened billions of egos for Plunder by Vanity, and appetite and by... whatever you desire.
It is only lately that I realize what a great ocean of the unawakened, swims in schools... all around the rotting reefs of a great culture in decline. The scavengers are already junk-bonding the infrastructure. They stole everything that wasn't nailed down, and then they went back for crowbars. I could say that there are going to be a great many dead, but... that's happening all the time, and all of us are dying by increments as we begin to resist CHANGE. That is one of the great features of Childhood. You are very willing to change. If your life should crumble all around you, there is an insight that comes, and it's impact also brings a great willingness for CHANGE. That is what Trauma does for us.
When we don't come up with the magic elixir... the everlasting echo of that first taste of the nectar of Immortality... we die. That is Nature, guided by Divine Intelligence, helping us out of whatever clinging attachments we let drag us down into the grave. Oh! What do you know? The same is happening to whatever the clinging attachments were. Then... angelic servers come in and clear the table and arrange it for the next affair, and... there is ALWAYS a next affair... until True Love blossoms. It is far more rare than the Century Plant.
True Love is an interior union in the bridal chamber of The Higher Mind. It's like that private dining room that all large restaurants have. It's also been called The Upper Room. See... The World outside has all kinds of clubs, gangs, kindred and collective spirits... where they get together to engage in one kind of hoodoo or another. You get those VERY private clubs, up the road from The Bohemian Grove. There are sex clubs and fraternal orders. There is some need in humanity to come together and live as neighbors. It is a very strong drive. It creates cities of compressed souls. These cities are like Propane containers, and just as inflammable.
I am not, myself, a fan of compressed living and there is nothing there that I want. I am fortunate... I suppose. I got a good long taste of The World at every level of interest and amusement. I am no longer interested and I am not amused. Still... God rubbed my nose in it. He didn't want me to forget. What's that saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? For some things, there is no reason for good memories. People return... again, and again, and again, and again to the same pursuits; the very image of a fool persisting in his folly until he is made wise. That's what Blake said, but... he was implying something. He also said, "The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom." It certainly can. I speak as living proof in that regard. I make no claim on wisdom, but... I do confess to being made aware of what I cannot... ever... forget.
Tumbleweeds and tombstones. Tumbleweeds and Tombstones. A rolling stop at the wrong time of day. How I wish that everything that isn't there... would simply go away. One day... a bell rings... a dog barks, and a car horn sounds... and it all comes together in your understanding... and the heart swallows the mind. Until that point of Jivanmukti... the wheel of the mind continues to spin. After that point of Jivanmukti, the wheel no longer spins but... The World continues to turn round... and round.
I have seen 8 episodes of "Resident Alien". Sometimes it falls on its face, and sometimes it farts in church or mails it in, but... sometimes it has flashes of brilliance. I haven't seen the like in years. If you can put up with precocious children who are way too cute for their own good, and for which the alien has practical solutions ... you might find it fascinating. They do things... well, I enjoy black humor (is that racist?) and there is plenty of that, and tongue in cheeks abound. You will not forget having seen it. Hopefully, the last episodes stay true to form. The plot is outrageous.
Now, this is helpful. Be sure and read the whole article. What twisted and depraved monsters~!=
This fellow is being hit with admonitions set between his site and your attention. You just ask the page to take you through=
Well... how about this. I've met bottom feeders before but this takes that which is disguised as cake=
Meet the new Satanic Hell-Bitch, same as the old Satanic Hell-Bitch=
And your update on the latest=
BEAMED FROM THE SAUCER POD BY VISIBLE AT 18:41