"Some Are Now Seeing The Writing on The Wall... Where It Just Appeared ... After The Graffiti Angels Passed Thru Town"

God Poet Transmitting.......

Something's going on... under the covers... where the people who own everything... breed the mind parasites... that operate the conditioned bodies... of those who do what they are told. There's more of these conditioned bodies than there ever was before; these people who take their marching orders from the snake-people in The Mind... The Slitherings.

They bottom-feed on all the mind garbage that drops from The Carnal Buffet Table; all those wasted thoughts... self-serving... grasping and acquisitive... vengeful... progeny of the couplings of Rajas and Tamas. The Material World provides the setting for all those unwelcome visitors inside everyone's head; there being only one mind in reality, and many separated minds... in the replicating delusions of The False Self. That's what The Mind does. It replicates.

Well... the people who create the thought patterns... trough-attraction imagery... those dreams of writhing bodies in the burbling primordial soup of sexual hunger... the objectives of Pride and Ambition... the ownership papers that give everyone the sense of identity that... they... just... have... to... have... these people are having some kind of problems.

All of a sudden... the relentless stream of shit-golem media campaigns about The WEF... Climate Change... howling for Trump's head... DEI and other race-hatred agendas... the usual sex-freak necessities of being front and center... in the attention windows of the latter-day zombie workforce... as they come and go from their cubicles... to the vending machines and food trucks... the hallway conversations around some metaphorical water cooler... this has all slowed down considerably.

It's like they're all waiting for something. There's this mingling of fear and expectation in the air. It could be wonderful... it could be horrible, BUT... everybody is at the window... hoping they'll get to see some of the action anyway. People these days are rubber-necking voyeurs who tell you they can't bear to look... while their unblinking eyes are fixed upon whatever is taking place.

Those people in the sky-boxes... behind the velvet ropes... in the limousines and private planes, you know... your betters? Something is seriously not right with them. It seemed like only the other day when they were so unshakably certain about their status, and... your status too. It seemed like there was a general understanding that The Culling would only be collecting the bodies from the flotsam and jetsam waters of never-ending collateral damage.

They had... an understanding... that they would be immune. Of course... the men and women of privilege wouldn't be suffering in any way, and then? And then... The Royal Family started catching cancer... or Cancer started catching them. Piss Diddy was getting his freak on night and day, and no one was gonna touch his protected form, and now? Could they be going after Jay Z next?

I'm getting this sense. It's a kind of spidey sense. Those of us who are sensitive, as opposed to thenzsatiff, have this extra-awareness thing that's come into play... as one of the emerging accessories to The New Age. It's a different kind of 'wired'. It's less a matter of implants than it is the awakening of powers that had been resident in a state of dormancy for some centuries.

It has to do with a continuing awareness of The Web of Existence... sometimes called The Web of Maya, and information travels on the tendrils of this web. It's the interior counterpart to The World Wide Web... The Information Highway... the medium and the massage. Those are the external forms of it. The internal aspect has been around... like... forever, and those of us who have had the system activated are able to get all kinds of input that is like... yet unlike... what everyone else is getting from their cellphones... computers... yadda yadda.

The external thing relies on devices. The internal thing relies on the sensory network that sits on top of the physical senses. I... myself... had this system activated some years ago. It's taken a lot of time to become familiarized with the workings. Just when you think you've got the hang of it... another door opens... and there's a whole new control room that you didn't even know about before. The Inner State is at least as big as The Outer State, so... as you go... one room opens into another room... that opens into another room... that opens into another room.

Then... there are those times when you come into a much larger room... like the central space of a large cathedral... or sometimes it is like an arboretum, but both of them have these transparencies... which are similar to stained-glass windows and light is streaming through them. These larger rooms are always circular and there is a row of doors that go around the whole of it. I suspect these are the same doors that one passes through... to get from room to room, and then to these larger rooms. It's all very Escher-like.

You might know about The Mind Palace... Memory Palace construct. It's a mnemonic device that is associated with people like Matteo Ricci, and then later with Sherlock Holmes and Hannibal Lecter. What I am talking about... is like this... only it is considerably larger and more complicated. One might say it is The Subconscious Mind that is both orderly and disorderly by turns... or maybe it is the job of The Self-Conscious Mind to do the ordering... even though The Superconscious Mind has it all in order, and had it all in order... from the beginning.

Some of us like to go at these things on our own... intrepid voyagers that we are... like Ulysses... Burton... Stanley, and many others. These are the folk who are always getting in and out of trouble, BUT... they are all adventurers... after adventures. I got enough of all that in the process of looking for a guide through the cloisters and catacombs. I was also NEVER looking for any physical treasures, AND... that puts a whole different light on the process.

See... at the inception of each new age... new abilities and capacities are activated in Humanity. Some rare few get the full boat, but even they don't master it all. Everyone else gets what they can handle. We have different levels of depth. We are NOT all equal, and only a fool or a Communist thinks so. The one is clueless and the latter is a predator. It's like the ocean. There are all kinds of creatures who live there. Some of them want to eat you, and some of them have defense systems, so... you need to know where to step, and... what you can and can't touch.

Anyway... the long-sheltered elite... those privileged types... to the manor born, and flushed with self-interest from the cradle to the grave. They are getting The Word now. Some are hearing it in their heads. Some are hearing it from others. Some are seeing the writing on

the wall... that just showed up there... after the graffiti angels hit town. They're gone now. No need for them to stick around.

These tycoons of the misery of other people... these jet-setting... ivory tower dining... pleated leather reclining... single malt imbibing... sad clowns of wretched destiny; the ones who always got off singing

♫ we're poor little lambs who have lost their way... baa baa baa... gentlemen songsters off on a spree. Doomed from here to eternity. Lord have mercy on such as we... baa baa baa...♫ They are the titled young of Rakshasa royalty... filled with faux Bonhomme; brothers all until extremity arrives. Yeah... their time has come around and they are all hearing about it.

You'd think the twisted behaviors of their children would have clued them in, BUT... they were too busy banging their friend's wives, and laying waster to their competitors... until they accidentally fell off that yacht in Tangiers; fell did he? Or was he pushed? Yeah... it's like Death at The Grand Ball... death at The Met Gala... showing up in costume like everyone else, and... touching each dancer as he moves through the crowd. They fall to the ground, BUT... Death never looks back.

Death has come to The Party. He's traveling with Mr. Apocalypse and Lady Awakening. They all work for the ineffable who likes to set a good example so he never capitalizes himself. He is... after all... the one who capitalizes everyone else. He's the one who bankrolled me with coin of The Invisible Realm.

Now it seems that The High and Mighty are about to get the same treatment they've been dishing out to everyone else. Hmm... actually... it's going to be considerably worse... on a case-by-case basis. You see... what you've been hearing about; The Royal Family's Carcinogen Christmas... Piss Daddy's Golden Shower of Realization... Whatever happened to Ellen Degenerate? Bill Maher's discovery that no matter how much pot he smokes... his stomach acids are digesting him, and Satanyahu? Oh! It won't be long.

Eventually... The Wheel comes round. Eventually... the scales are balanced... scores are settled... playing fields evened... and the deeply hidden find there is nowhere to move to. The Lightbringer has lit up all the dark places, and the only place left for them to flee... is into the darkness of the human mind, and there they wait... peering now and again... out of the balistraria... that are the eye-holes of The Possessed... hoping this last bastion of darkness... will pass by the notice of The Illuminated Man. Heh heh... that was always his final port-of-call from the beginning of his descent.

End Transmission.......

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