Visible Origami — Feb 26, 2017
Dog Poet Transmitting…….
Ah… how I wish for brighter and more beautiful days. The enemy is in serious turbo mode, both in my own life and in the world around me. I was explaining to a friend the other day about how the enemy knows who we are and what we are about and what our level of threat is to the infernal industries. The enemy has many minions, who travel about through the lower astral and each and every one of us emits a certain strength and quality of light. It it to this that they are attracted and by the components of the light that we emit they can tell if we represent anything significant that might concern them in their concerted press to plunge the manifest world into darkness.
For whatever the reason, Donald Trump and that portion of the world that is Christian and moral and honest and decent, who voted for Trump …because of what he said and promised to do and… given that Hillary Clinton and her agenda is anti-life and anti-human, they voted for Trump because the alternative was bleak and dangerous indeed. Now, the world wide witches and assorted other dark occult orders are getting together to put a binding spell on Trump. You’d be a fool to imagine that something of this kind is not potentially destructive. However, the real question is who is behind Trump and what he represents and… are they qualified and empowered enough to counter this effort?
It is clear at this juncture that a certain portion of the (manipulated) world is aggressively opposed to Donald Trump and the hopes and fears of mostly normal citizens who stand in the way of their pandemic perversity. If one looks at the opposition, it is composed of various groups who have had their way for too long to go gentle into the dark night, toward which they are assuredly bound. As time passes, we see, more and more the tyranny of the hysterical few over the sane and sober majority. None of these screeching loons are oppressed. They are catered too with the slavish and simpering genuflections of compromised bureaucrats who long ago surrendered their honor and dignity to the venal appetite of their consuming self interest.
It is clear at this point that the very powerful, or seemingly powerful, international Satanic order is intent on doing away with Donald Trump, or rendering him hamstrung and impotent, so that he can accomplish nothing. Unless he becomes very proactive he is doomed. Unfortunately, many of those in his party and who are supporters in the lip service industry, are compromised by actions they took in former times where they became tangled up in honey traps, orchestrated by intelligence services, who sought to have them rendered compliant in all things that served the interests of these intelligence services. No doubt among these are the architects of 9/11 and other false flag operations, going back to the assassination of President Kennedy and many another death on the way to this moment.
If it were not for Mr. Apocalypse and the various hierarchies of angels, working in concert with him, I would have little hope this hour. Most likely I would be looking for some location far from it all, where I might manage a subsistence existence, while I awaited the aftermath of the chaos to come but… even in this time of relentless opposition and wall to wall lies, hope brims in my heart because I know I am not alone. I know the power and force of God remain undiminished. The whole environment of deception is designed to give the APPEARANCE that there is no God and that all previous concepts of morality are no longer relevant and might never have been. We now have new and improved morality where whatever might have formerly been the norm is now undesirable and frowned upon; the future has become a 350 pound transvestite with a beard, on a hover-board, who works as a corrections officer.
It is fascinating to watch the forms of language used by the ones who are engaged in shaping the public awareness. This lovely piece of repoortaaaage swirls around the toilet bowl, like a surfer in a whirlpool. She’s got her eyes closed and her nostrils pinched shut because she doesn’t like what she sees or the way it smells. She can’t go back. Her board isn’t motorized and she doesn’t have a rudder. Possibly due to the strength of the drugs in her system, she has convinced herself that the noxious atmosphere through which she is passing is only temporary and that somewhere near or past the bottom, there awaits a paradise of human understanding and acceptance where all of us are seen equally and treated equally, especially the 350 pound tranny, with the Elvis sideburns on the hoverboard. Yes… Julie Compton really brings it to the NBC table of socio-sexual parity. I typed in ‘Julie Compton, politically correct moron’ but didn’t get anything.
I know that if they recognized that there is an ineffable being out of whose substance we each are formed that that being would be black and male from the waist down and Ellen Degenerate from the waist up. There would be pink unicorns dancing in the air all around him with an Alanis Morissette soundtrack and you wouldn’t want to get anywhere near it and that is the point of the affair.
In times of an apocalypse there is a breakdown in longstanding traditions. Religions crumble and reassemble. Political systems go haywire. Cultures melt and run like broken eggs into the street gutters. Music and art go dissonant and abstract. Individualism runs wild with a complete loss of individuality. Intelligence, reason and logic, which require courage in the application, break down and weep in the car parks and none of those so affected can make it to the stairwell or the elevators and into the safe space. I need a safe space!!!
It is not possible for nations and cultures to survive when they have come to the pass they are presently in. Madness rises in the corners of unattended minds. Once people have lost their grip on reality, delusion puts them in a wristlock and frogmarches them into a cul de sac of drooling and gibbering insanity. Here on the precipice of engineered chaos, the long fall, magnetizes the balance of the terrified. There is no salvation, except what comes through one pointed certitude or grace and it is my expectation that the predators will, in a breathtaking suddenness, find themselves lost at sea, unaware of who they are or what they had intended prior to the moment in which it occurred.
Possibly there will be catastrophes, both natural and humanly created. Pandemics and plagues may abound but… it is my sense that those who are engaged in the destruction of humanity will simply lose their minds. Their drives will be wiped by a burst of spiritual EMP and they will wander mindlessly along strange paths seen only by them. Like an echo that never dies, my mind is immediately brought back to that battle before the gates of Mordor, when the good guys were surrounded by the minions of darkness and on the verge of being overwhelmed and rendered into a historical footnote. In that moment of pending utter despair, Gollum tumbled with the ring, into the bubbling lava of Mount Doom and all of Sauron’s attention was brought around to that moment of transforming destiny. His virtual head would have swiveled, had there been one and in that moment, all of his armies, lost their will and awareness and either fled or wandered off, in whatever direction they had last been headed in. It seems to me that it will be like that. It seems to me that it ‘is like that’; ‘e cosi’ as the Italians would say.
Time is incremental. It is also a matter of perception and seems to pass at different speeds depending on where one is and who one is. There is an argument that there is no time. It is just an imaginary measuring stick. Primitive cultures experience it much differently than do we. Aboriginal Dream Time is such a phenomena. Then there are people like Emmanuel Kant who said to themselves, “Just how complex can I make this?” However you explain time to yourself, it is certainly affected by whether one is in an objective or subjective state of mind; whether one enters into these states as a result of intention, or whether they come and go by other means. This is all a prelude to saying that if one carefully observes the nature of each increment, as it is expressed in the actions and states of being of the players, one can observe the collective march of madness and see the evidence of the speed of increase as it gains velocity. Crazy is the new exponential. Sometimes crazy is going really fast in many directions at once; that is one of the attributes of crazy. You might find this confusing, depending on the level at which you understand physics …but you probably won’t be nearly as confused as those experiencing it.
All of this gives me hope. One of the most frustrating things is trying to figure out how we are going to be saved when we are faced with so many terrifying experiences. It surely looks like an unfortunate number of us are lost at sea and the clouds on the horizon do not look promising, “red sun at dawning, sailors take warning, red sun at night, sailors delight.”
Our problem seems to be where we are getting our information from and how involved in the process of analyzing it we are (great sentence structure, visible). Whatever is being spoon fed to us has been processed accordingly, prior to ingestion. I’m not making a whole lot of sense here at the roundup. The thing is that you can’t lay it all out in fait accompli fashion. It requires the insight of another to achieve clarity by diligence of concentration and focus. Without that, it either gets swallowed whole or passed by due to being unrecognizable… or is rendered indigestible. Information is like food, once you swallow it it becomes involved in being a part of you; truth in, truth out. Garbage in and garbage out.
I refuse to look at those threatening skies and see conditions beyond my capacity to survive them or to influence them. It’s either in my hands (not) or it is in the hands of the one who is producing and directing it for the purpose of demonstration. An act of faith is required. I surrender my fate, my ambitions and dreams and whatever else there is of me, into the hands of the ineffable to do with them as he wills. I’ve already managed to screw it up on my own. It’s time for another hand at the tiller, or at least a recognition that one has been there already for a long, long time.