Lurching Zombies in Cellphone Ads and Human Gods with the Head of a Monkey. Deus Ex Machina, Baby.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

We've seen it coming for some time; a blood red dawn rises upon the horizon. The lurching zombie troglodytes, are slipping in and out of the one-eyed Sauron fashioned- from an electricity everyone uses but no one understands, or can explain- mystery box-lunch, featuring the demented dreams of spiritual plunder. They're going ape-shit about the vision of putting a monkey's head on a human body and calling it God. It was either that or Deus Ex Machina. Why not do a buffet and advertise them both? On one side, at union scale wages, there are zombies working the cameras of the latest LG cellphone on the Sauron box; that family altar, before which the family sits bewitched and transfixed; eternally tumescent in their minds; fantasizing about their osculation of a goat's behind and getting Tommy Hilfiger designed, high priest robes. No one is wearing a neophyte outfit this time; it spirals down to the strangest pairs of cartoon eyes, peering over the metaphorical fences of the mind, where it's all ermine and purple satin; dressed for dining on flesh au gratin, with a fine garnish of shredded souls who have no throat to cry out from. They are mute and frozen in time... “your place or mine?”

Mr. Apocalypse is forcing vain, self adulating icons of smug to expose themselves in indefensible ways, as one lizard faced clown attacks an enduring hero of youth and men musing about their glory days on bar stools across the country; not to mention occasional reflections upon a vanished youth, oft times made more colorful by Stan Lee. “Stan Lee? He said what about Stan Lee?” This is going to come back to bite this smarmy atheist where it hurts. As Mr Apocalypse told me during a four days sustained Ayahuasca journey in Italy some years ago; not verbatim but close enough for rock and roll;

“I'm going to show up in the middle of them and take their pants down and expose them to the eyes and mockery of the world. I am going to humiliate them out of their own mouths. Their arrogance has risen to the point that it possesses its own autonomy of speech. Their false selves, lit with a false light, generated out of their own self-aggrandizement, are prancing about like one trick ponies on PCP. Nothing hurts the self fellating egotist like a diminishment of stature on the stage of the world. Every one of them is going to have their Tawana Brawley moment.”

He said a lot more but this should do for the moment. He also said it much simpler.

Life, in essence, is for the purpose of demonstration and discovery. We learn the lessons of those who acted their foolishness out in front of us, or we are motivated to do it ourselves. Everything here is arranged to show us the true value of the temporary ever changing world, through our disappointments and sense of loss... or... showcase us as one who went to the core of existence and let the beauty of it shine through them, in their realized transparency, in the aftermath of their surrender of every shadow that had previously obscured and made them a hindrance to the living light, now shining through them.

Everyone presently on center stage of the world, at this time, in it's epic degeneration into farce and futility and which has been carefully chosen for the point being made, as they slam dance their way through the mosh pit of ignorant flailing, in search of The Big One. You are either 'generally' obscure and on the high road to The Kingdom of the Ineffable, or... you are performing the ritual of your own death rites, before an audience of lemmings, waving Bic lighters in the air.

I once saw a cartoon with two book stores next to each other. One of them had a sign that said, (not verbatim) “worthless trash and superficial garbage”. It had a huge line in front of it. The other store said, “timeless books well worth reading”. There was no one in front of it. We see this now in every area of the creative arts. We see it with the visual arts, exemplified by painters. We seeit in music and what is not music, manifested in Rap. We see it in (snicker) literature. The reason for this and for other areas of enterprise that haven't been mentioned is that art is only as good as what inspires it and only as good as what passes through the artist and that is dependent on the point of its origin.

If we view the masters of past centuries... it is clear that much of it came from supernal sources. It is well known, among certain practitioners, that there are angels and muses who are as responsible as the artist is for the enduring value of their work. When we listen to the work of Beethoven, Bach, Brahms and Mozart; not to mention Chopin and a number of others, it is clear that something of a nature higher than human was involved in their productions. It is patently obvious who is inspiring the garbage that is visited upon us in these times.

There is more than one reason for the horrific creations that are being promoted in every area of artistic production. One is for the purpose of illuminating just how dumbed down and easily led an unfortunate proportion of the population is and ridiculing them for it, in that place where their yet to be defined sense of perpetual uneasiness resides. Shaming humanity and coarsening human nature are two of the primary efforts of the infernal realm. It is also for the purpose of awakening people and affirming the uncompromising tastes of some who do not fear the censure of their peers. One should always remember that The Devil works for God. Even The Devils pitchfork is an example of a tool to prod humanity forward. In many cases, where appetite and desire have triumphed over restraint and objective awareness, people are being 'driven' by Old Scratch, who provides all the necessary itch. The result of the movement of those being driven is to become an example to others, as well as a telling and lasting lesson, upon the consciousness of the one driven to any particular end.

For those who have the requisite awareness and knowledge that self restraint is absolutely necessary for the performance of self inquiry, the influence of the dark side is neutralized by the discovery of the inner light and the presence of the consciousness which generates that light, which, in fact, 'is' that light.

It can seem very dark at times and appear hopeless as well, when one sees the sheer number of those who are confined in a deep and perpetual sleep of habits and patterns that repeat themselves without exception. Even more disturbing are those indifferent to the finer atmospheres of a life well lived. Pedestrian entertainments have triumphed over all interest in less tangible pursuits.

Whenever a harvesting of souls is transpiring, in any particular apocalypse where this activity occurs; chaos and confusion, as well as a multitude of pressures and enticements, are present to bewilder and enchant those so deceived by them. This present time is an amplified example, on steroids, in this regard. Because subjective awareness is the presently pervasive consciousness (and becoming ever more so) and objective awareness is becoming ever more rare, people do not see the alarming reality of their unwinding fate, which is the sum totality of their intentions and acts. Furthermore, peer pressure and the general mindset, creates an environment of support for all kinds of excess and dissipation as being fine and dandy; “if it feels good, do it.” “I am expressing my own truth.” implying that diversity is some kind of cornerstone for unity. We have come to the point where one is pressed to accept just about anything in the spirit of tolerance. Otherwise one is viewed as an exemplar of archaic values that have no place in this modern world, where such inhibitions appear to retard the free expressions of those who are living their own truth, no matter how insane that might appear to those who understand that there can be no lasting or workable culture or society where the family unit is not understood to be the basic building block of civilization.

Yesterday... I reached back into a previous template for illustrating certain things in a particular light. The result was hardly any comments, even though people present here told me they enjoyed the effort more than anything in recent memory. Possibly today will achieve the same result (grin). Sometimes one is moved to get personal about certain things in order to point out the choices we are sometimes forced to make. Sometimes it's a nice change of pace to come at what is on ones mind from a different perspective. Remaining in the province of esoterica doesn't always serve others, who live in all sorts of variations of this world, even if common themes are generally shared, the nitty gritty of this time and place is not less influential, simply because we have tried to stop talking about it.

I don't wish to censure others but sometimes telling it like it is or was helps to flesh out questions I have been asked more than once over the course of recent times and that is mostly why the tenor of the last post and this one are presented in the manner they are. If someone has a wooden leg, it isn't a criticism to call attention to it, especially if one is certain this is true and more especially if one has been hit on the head by it a time or two and then one might get into an exploration of the character of the person with the wooden leg.


Have a fantastic Sunday!!!


End Transmission........

♫ Rocketship ♫