Smoking Mirrors — June 2, 2018
Dog Poet Transmitting…….
May the eternal Ineffable, rock you forever in the sweet cradle of his deathless and enduring Love!!!
Everywhere you look, Mr. Apocalypse is walking around in his black cape, lace up Doc Martens and with the cobra headed walking stick. The cobra has those glittering ruby eyes and it hisses every time the metal toe cap touches the pavement of the highway to everywhere. He’s got plastic skinned Kardashians. They got rhinoplasty and hippoplasty. They got Big Apple worms in a serpentine spiral around a rotten core. They got “what is this?” They got “we want more.” They got the Jenner queen of Babylon and the Babylon Whore. They got the weasel in the willows and hyena fewmet smores. They got the nameless, anonymous, darkness at noon and old man scratch, the vampire toothed buffoon, with “one day Alice straight to the moon!” He’s got all of it and wants none of it but he’s going to put the spotlight on it at center stage and launder their suits while they’re still in them. You know what this is about because you’ve been here before.
You may wonder about it and all the broken hearts of the Sweethearts of the Rodeo, with the doseee doe and the left foot in and the right foot out’ is it prestidigitation when they shake it all about?’ One thing for sure, visible mentioned this some years ago. A lot of people didn’t want to hear about it but it turned out to be true. Drugs can be therapeutic if you don’t get them at the pharmacy or spinning like a dervish in the twisting tornado wind, going round in circles till it builds a head of steam. The pressure escapes at the weakest point, which is the most likely personal perversion that will put you in a cage. You just don’t know what to think but they’ll come up with something. They’ll come up with something to embarrass everyone, while every new thing is the same as the old thing and like the hypocrites proclaiming their virtue in the streets, they have their reward. It just gets sadder and sicker while you come down from your throne because you can’t leave your body alone.
The time comes when you simply have to shut your mouth and let Mr. Apocalypse work it all out. It is a sad and tawdry affair, with all those tits in the ringer, hanging on the line, like used prophylactics in a Serbian laundromat and Victoria Neuland and her marching zombie army. It’s been years since I’ve seen Incogman. He was never very friendly to me but I think is goes with the territory. Although I am capable of saying anything, I usually don’t. You can’t say the same for him. I don’t know if that is refreshing or what but as I said, I haven’t seen him in a long time. Maybe he got taken off the search engines. I don’t mean to criticize him, I’m just pointing out the intensity of the things that he says, cause he really has no filters and makes my eyes go wide, I have no idea what his effect is on others. I imagine it is pretty powerful, as they try to get a grip on all those loose lips that sink all those ships.
What can I say? Up… up and away. A lot of the old guard is going to die in coming times (objects in the mirror are closer than they appear), from Soros to Buffet and Little Miss Muffet, whose curds and whey are well past their sell by date, while childhood went thataway. That is the essence of Satanism, to despoil innocence, put Alice in Wonderland in a window on the Reeperbahn. Fifteen years in Germany and I never got there. Now they say they’re closing it down but more likely only moving to another part of town, because the Tribe having put Germany into the human trafficking wind, are sure to be bringing back the cabaret society to the darkness at the edge of town, because if you can’t get it up you will surely bring it down. That’s how it works, all those twerks and herky jerks. If you can’t make it better, you will surely make it worse.
I had no intention of rhyming all of this, I suspect it is pretty annoying at this point. I don’t know how it happened. It just did; the same as this and yet nothing gets said. On and on it goes, they murder Palestinians. They do as they please and please no one but themselves. These nasty little demons are not Santa’s Elves. Every holiday is a Murder Incorporated facsimile of St. Valentines Day. Look at the history. This is so far beyond coincidence; that they have attacked other nations on their religious holidays. If you go looking for corroboration, you wind up instead with this. It is by turns, pathetic and amazing. They take each example of their hideous weaknesses and accuse their victims of their own behavior, just as the naked truth shows how that cartoon holocaust came directly on the heels of their Bolshevik mass murder across decades of horror. All you got to do is to follow the money.
They strategized for centuries to take over the world banks. Then they took the media and entertainment industries so they could fabricate the news and orchestrate the dream. Step by step they put it all in place. It is glaring and obvious and in your face. Right in the middle of the forest where you can’t see the trees, it is everywhere to be seen. How is it that so few can see it? It is a wonder of fossilized, atavistic fears. That cold wind at the nape of your neck, a timeless bloody blueprint from a deranged architect. Stop it Visible!!! Oh what the Hell. I don’t know why this is happening but I hope I don’t upset too many people. I never have much control over what I say here, sometimes I have to can a whole post as I did about half an hour ago. I was writing about a paragraph a day and then two weeks went by and it read subjective and self indulgent so I find myself with this. I hope you can forgive me. I have to put something up… or do I? Let us bow our heads and pray.
A few nights ago I had one of the most unbelievable experiences of my life. This coming in the tail wind of a life nearing transition, I was sitting here when a voice came into my head and said, “Good morning Visible, do you know who this is?” I did not. It was a woman’s voice which I cannot remember if I have ever heard in this manner. You could have knocked me over with a feather when she said, “This is Mother Kali.” I felt a wave of fear shuddering up my spine and she said,”Don’t be afraid. I know I scare a lot of people but I should not scare you. Remember how you had my Hindu posters on your bedroom doors and walls. Remember how you used to talk to me; how deeply you were into me and then it went away and you were talking to Amitabha and Ganesh and others. Did you know how much I loved you for that? I was hearing from practically no one in the West in those times.”
I am not frightening except to those who break my laws. I am here to observe the people who punish themselves and am but a witness to it all. I am actually merciful and kind.” She spoke so softly and with such an intimacy that it made in tremble at the center. I found it so very hard to believe. Then she would say things like, “You don’t believe this is me, do you?” I did not know what to say so I said, “I don’t know. This is so surprising.” She replied, “It is, isn’t it? But I assure you this is me. I always meant to come by and see you in the later days. The same as when the ineffable told you that he would come in the Winter because you had sought him in the Spring. We are the same, only different aspects of course. I am the time lapse capture of the moment at hand. I am the Mother of Summing up”. Then as the last few days have passed. I began to see that it was not my own mind talking back to myself. You see the authenticity in the uniqueness of the syntax. This was a whole different entity that had an original and singular personality. She was so sweet! This of all that passed was the most surprising thing. I couldn’t get over it and I still can’t.
She comes right out of nowhere as I am falling asleep, or walking through the house, standing at the window and watching the birds eat, reading a book, playing the guitar. I can’t get over it as I wonder who I are (c’mon Visible! That really is enough!- sorry, grin). Never in a hundred years would I have expected something like this and the personality… to be so utterly itself. She is so very kind. It is as opposite expectations as it can get. And I know with sureness and certitude that ‘I have not seen the best times yet’ “take your wings, no longer frayed and fallen. Let us rise and soar as if no one has ever gone this way before.”