Boring Part 14 of 15

Once again everything that follows has nothing to do with God.

Where have we got to in this wandering, this Monte Carlo walk like a thirsty man in a security tagged water bottling plant looking for that one way in to his opportunity to quench and drown? All the invites and all the come ons beckoning him to annihilation and disaster. For that which he seeks, is ever watchful and knows his attention span and intention space.

Tortured like the celibate man looking for the zentral whore house, the temperate searching for the covert distillery and the open barrel into which to hurl him. Driven to seek the lethality space down endless corridors of death’s distraction. Life only worth living in the light of realisation, no matter how short the personal flicker of ken.

Looking forward from Part 13 and looking back from here and now, as is our want at this toxic watering den, we should collide in a great particle explosion of stressed geometry and fractured torsion in Part 15. Some confection of extra dimensional extermination and the alchemical transmutation of our medium.

Lt Uhura was not looking back nor forward, neither was she in the present. She was out of time skryeing the geometry of the shimmering hyper fabric of the measure of quantised reality. There is no infinitely small part of anything; all is wrung from the lattice of Heim spaced nothing.

There is no limiting to our crying out in our ken at any riveverend of the universe simultaneously and being heard at the very, very centre on the hollow point where our collective mind rests sensitised to all that we realise when we still our stalled eyes.

All is realised from geometry, the quantum and relativistic are not all that we can discover. Our three halted eyes restrict our immvision; stunt our vista of the phantoms that we stride through our daily lives. Lives upon which are pitched standing wave formed shadows in higher dimensions. Like and likened, blinded and mute, deaf and tasteless, numbed to the touch and yet suffering from time and ethereal synaesthesia. Something within us knows, feels, senses and skryes that there is more than that which we spend our days in ritual, ceremony and worship.

Our detached minds synched through our brains to our loving hearts, gated out and in to our universal soul. We do this every day in everyway and never realise our power.

This is not Uri Geller pissing around with shape memory alloys.

This is real.

Would you argue that we are enslaved to ritual? Caught by the ceremonial. Imprisoned by worship. Would we deny? How often do we go shopping? Into rubbish, built environment, cattle sheds. How often do we attend a sports event? Herded into a stinking, built environment, pig sty. Ever watch the finer products of the Cali Valley? Nothing more heterosexual than watching adults copulating is there? Watch closely, we are worshipping the phallus, just as we did in Memphis thousands of years ago. Who brings this all to us?

This gives us a great problem. Our greater realisation is being deliberately stunted. Deliberately crippled by a more primitive Weltanschauung. An ancient belief system that strives to bring their impoverished past into the barren future, to complete the cycle and regain their lost evil paradise. Old, old and yet blazing into the future. Contradictory. Are we likely to follow?

That gives them a problem. The more we allow ourselves to be compressed into the tiny space assigned to us, the more they force our restriction, the more likely we are to defy the laws of thermodynamics and transmute out into the realization of exactly what we can achieve, by default. So softly we are to be farmed, they have the mystery school teachings to guide them. Remember, as I’ve speculated before, if the universal mind is affected by every overt action in these lower dimensions then the feed back loop will kick their asses; if not done just so under correct celestial alignments and psychological preparedness.

The tools and devices used against us in this struggle, of which we are made unaware, range through science, philosophy, religion, psychology and the arts. Applied learning that we are supposed to think arose from our intellectual development and natural progression. Building brick upon brick, each generation standing on the shoulders of giants. However over the past 150 years or so the process is guided. When we stare real hard at the subjects of these intrigues and tricks they were injected into our society through a very select group who are guided by a jinn. Communism, Relativity, Quantum Theory, Trans humanism, Natural Selection et al. All designed to limit our horizons. To shutter our minds. To corral us into smaller and smaller cells.

This is a conceptual battle. They are bending every sinew to ensure that we cannot conceive of these additions to our experience. Why do you think that in this realm they are the beloved abortionists? Those links in the unbroken chain that are rightful hours released from the sacred geometry.

If you take a little look at the newer topology described in Part 13 then I believe the mistake that we are making can be seen. We are falling into the trap, their trap, so carefully prepared. Just what do they want?

Since this shop went weird in Jan we’ve covered some of their activities and speculated about others. What we can say is that they’ve been at it for 6000 years at least. In its current form. The Watchers who gave us urban living and then set about introducing the funny money scam assisted by their logistics specialists, the dusty donkey drivers. Well although we cannot put a name on the current Watchers the descendents, genetic or otherwise, of the caravaners are Goldman Sucks. That should be clear by now.

When the two towers were taken down did you ever notice that when you looked down and ignored the smoking ruins of the twins you could have been looking at the green roofed temples of ancient Babylon?

All the strangeness spewing into and out of the flow of our realisation. Gate in, gate out and then the sudden hot breath on our id and we are not alone.

What do you believe?

What do you want to believe?

If you can generate your own sovereign thoughts, no matter how strange, then you will be free and enemy. The whole world has been subsumed to a constricted set of limited thoughts for centuries. The result in the 20th century is licensed unlimited action and huge heaps of dead people. Everywhere. Go on then wear some shoes and feel the squelch of napalmed children. Fucked witz.

This is not the time for action; this is the time for combat thoughts, fighting spirit and realisation of soul through which we can change all and leave the poor jinn obsessed fools in their darkness.

KΑ ΩDMT

Potassium rush

Death flood

Geometry will never be straight and to the point.

If ever the reality strikes us it will be as a release from our stunted affliction. There is no end, no beginning and nor ended.

The least and last things we regard are most likely the greatest flight of our realization. However we ignore them in a ritualized phasing of obstraction.

Pay attention. These are our gates in and out. These are the deliberately cheapened, debased stressing of reality that we are guided to ignore by suicidal infanticide clinics and terminal nursing.

The smoked pall will fill our lungs and choke our future lives in thrall. The piling ash will kill our dead under a dread sun.

All life will test our reality through the labour of our mercy.

Whether gone, presented, to come or killed.

Psychokillers think we are planted out of place. Weeds. No.

We spoil their redundant ancient rarified, hi maintenance, slaving geometry.

Go seed and propagate.

Blade bearer

Bare our hands; let me see our palms blade bearer.

Are our psalms gloved in innocence or naked caked in blood, blade bearer? For what purpose do you seek the blade? What are our intentions? Where is our heart, blade bearer?

Do we remember when the blades were obsidian? When the blade was the crystal and our conjunction with the calmed universe was completed.

Then reality changed, for us. We shed our minds and grew our eyes and descended to now.

Our blades were sundered from the fabric of realisation, our powers gone.

Do you remember blade bearer? Only that which beats in our breasts can feel the shadow of that last, lost touch. For now our mind is bereft of its purpose. Our monde is bicameral.

The purpose of wielding the beautifully spectered blades.

However we were not completely amnesiac and the blades turned to stone, desecrated as best we could. When the metal flowed we set the crystal in the bronze, hilted. In the iron and steel the jewels were always set in decoration. In memory for our ripped minds and halted eyes. Waiting for reconjunction. For renewed geometry,

Can you remember how our ken could swirl time and destroy gravity as we handled the blades. The great power of our thoughts and the changes we wrought? Our power in the 4 realms of the 5, where we reigned.

The four realms where we reigned alone. Haunted. Hunted. Hounded. Never free. Pandora’s hope released.

Be mindful blade bearer that on handling the blade we can become the foe all too easily. Be wary of our intentions, ask our heart and only then look into her eyes, for she is the unbroken chain, a link to our past and the realisation in its purest sense.

The blade is dangerous to us, blade bearer, and will surrender us if we are untrue. To accept the stones is to be set upon a high wire of fate, for the stones will allow the jinn to afflict us if we weaken.

Look into her eyes blade bearer. Are we true? Her gravity is our doom. Are we true?

Pick up our wondrous blaze swordsman and enter the fray.

Before

Beauty.

Bereft to come.

Drink deep, you will be called. Not for who you are but for what you can fire.

Sleep short.

Enjoy.