Those Purple Mountains Travesties…

Above the Looted Plain. Amer- hic! Caw!!! and The Unshakable Timeless Unity Within..

Visible Origami – Dec 4, 2018

Dog Poet Transmitting…….
…….Hark the deep fried chickens squawk. Man! They’re really at it aren’t they? It used to be “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.” (for Christ’s sake!!!- pun intended) And the wholly Zionist owned SPLC (Society for the Protection of Lowlife Cretins) is doing their usual Hate Group Tango at Goldberg’s Tanning Salon in the Hernando’s Hideaway strip mall. Meanwhile the Infernal Realm has all kinds of glittering confetti and 3D flaming banners over the Gates of Hell and obscuring the usual greeting; “Abandon Hope all ye who Enter Here.” as one of the prime candidates for the last century is taking the Gone Dead, tube train ride as Bob Barker cries; “Come on Down!”
Let’s go to one of the prime Fake News sites (now owned by Smokin’ Jeff Bezos) for The Purple Mountains Travesty Realm; above the Looted Plain… ♫oh beautiful for wasted skies, for blood red fields of pain. For purple mountains travesties, above the looted plain. Amer ‘hic!’ caw, Amer- hic! Caw…♫ “Ralph!!!” in the Japanese Prime Ministers lap” Thar she blows!!! Yes… it’s all sunny skies. You can hear Louis Armstrong singing, ♫What a Wonderful World♫ Occasionally he raises his Cocaine suffused handkerchief to his nose. Whoops! You can’t find a reference to one of the biggest open secrets in the entertainment world for years. They did let him be described as smoking 3 blunts a day. My man Louis!!! I liked Louis and he had a colorful life; eerily like Richard Pryor’s. Or… maybe you can!
George H.W. was a mid tier ne’er do well. The horned and taloned choir is going to be singing arias from “Hell’s Unfinished Symphony in Asia Minor” with a full compliment of demons when Satanist, Georgie Porgie Soros and Sir Evelyn take the walk, hand in hand— I had to put this song in, for a little romantic, poignant relief and you may be sure thsee two will not be hearing this beautiful tribute- to Clarence Clemons… Clarence and Patti join in the singing. Enjoy the song!!!
Surely this is not the place, Visible Origami …for subjects of this kind; we’re talking folded, spindled and mutilated origami. However, “shit happens” and it happens in various fashions;
“Taoism: Shit happens.
Confucianism: Confucius say, “Shit happens.”
Buddhism: If shit happens, it isn’t really shit.
Zen Buddhism: What is the sound of shit happening?
Hinduism: This shit has happened before.
Islam: If shit happens, it is the will of Allah.
Catholicism: If shit happens, you deserve it.
Judaism: Why does this shit always happen to us?
Seventh Day Adventism: No shit shall happen on Saturday.
Creationism: God made all shit.
Jehovah’s Witnesses: Knock,Knock – Shit happens.
Hare Krishna: Shit happens, rama rama.
Atheism: There is no shit.”
You’ve heard me say it before, ‘the bigger the limousine, the bigger the ___hole.’ Okay, I’ve come to bury George, not to praise him. The good that men never did, lives an imaginary life afterwards in the minds and on the lips of all the stuffed suits who will be marched out to render fatuous elegies. This one won’t be stated or paraphrased;
“Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frown’d not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy mark’d him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heav’n did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Mis’ry all he had, a tear,
He gain’d from Heav’n (’twas all he wish’d) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(There they alike in trembling hope repose)
The bosom of his Father and his God.”

It will probably be more along the lines of this;

“Apeneck Sweeney spread his knees
Letting his arms hang down to laugh,
The zebra stripes along his jaw
Swelling to maculate giraffe.
The circles of the stormy moon
Slide westward toward the River Plate,
Death and the Raven drift above
And Sweeney guards the hornèd gate.
Gloomy Orion and the Dog
Are veiled; and hushed the shrunken seas;
The person in the Spanish cape
Tries to sit on Sweeney’s knees
Slips and pulls the table cloth
Overturns a coffee-cup,
Reorganised upon the floor
She yawns and draws a stocking up;
The silent man in mocha brown
Sprawls at the window-sill and gapes;
The waiter brings in oranges
Bananas figs and hothouse grapes;
The silent vertebrate in brown
Contracts and concentrates, withdraws;
Rachel née Rabinovitch
Tears at the grapes with murderous paws;
She and the lady in the cape
Are suspect, thought to be in league;
Therefore the man with heavy eyes
Declines the gambit, shows fatigue,
Leaves the room and reappears
Outside the window, leaning in,
Branches of wistaria
Circumscribe a golden grin;
The host with someone indistinct
Converses at the door apart,
The nightingales are singing near
The Convent of the Sacred Heart,
And sang within the bloody wood
When Agamemnon cried aloud
And let their liquid siftings fall
To stain the stiff dishonoured shroud.”
But I digress. The poisoned apples did not fall far from the tree… from Prescott to George W.
I think of Iraqi children, lugging the five gallon cans left behind by the invaders, down to the river to fill them with depleted uranium water.
They say, “do not speak ill of the dead’. My position would be to remain utterly silent then; which I have not done. Someone has got to say something, while the endless litanies of bullshit roll off the forked tongues of the sidewinder snakes. For posterity we will have, side by sidewinder, the paintings of John Wayne Gacy and George W. Bush. The latter was a far more successful serial killer, as well as mass murderer; torture was a central park of both of their techniques. Though now Gacy sleeps with the fishes, I wonder how George Jr. sleeps at night, with the howling, astral wind songs of the thousands of murdered children, whose bones lie bleached in the merciless Iraqi sun.
The priceless and ancient history, once stored, in Iraqi museums was looted by you know who and are now being sold by you know who. Misshapen and tormented children are the legacy of the Iraq War. We now know that these faceless organizations, along with the United Nations military, in concert with large corporations, are behind the massive industry of sex trafficking. The UN Peace-keeping Forces are a cynical and unfunny joke throughout Africa. Everyone should study what happened in Rwanda; ♫tut… tut… tutsi goodbye! Tut… tut… tutsi don’t scream♫ Unreal!!! Just unreal how the world stood around and shifted from one foot to the other; both their hands in their pockets, playing pocket pool while they watched the carnage. There is this genetic, or cultural indifference. It’s kind of like the distinction between the social classes in England. We have our levels of cultural importance here. That sector of the population that goes to the better colleges, that has inherited wealth and automatic job situations waiting for them, usually several of them. They are the people who have members of the family who major in philosophy, poetry and such because they don’t have to make money, they already have money. It’s a little different in England, where the classes are separated by long standing lines of demarcation. One of them goes to what are called ‘public schools’ but which are elite private schools.
These people talk different, like they have a couple of tablespoons of water in their mouths and they’ve all got stiff upper lips. People from the lower level of that society DO NOT matriculate upwards. The only exceptions are athletes, entertainers and various types of celebrities. The upper crust likes to interact with and be seen with them. It gives them a sense of importance. They all go to Sandhurst, Eaton, Harrow or one of the others. This is where they meet the in crowd of the future; the children of the peers of the realm. They’re a stuffy, affected crowd. This is where MI6 recruits their members. A lot of them become professorial types that let the intelligence community know who the up and coming brightest are. Some of them are behind projects like Tavistock. It’s a breeding ground for sociopaths. These are the ones to whom it never occurs that there is humanity in the lower reaches. They’re seen as dolts and mouthbreathers but… the reality of this never gets discussed by either side much. It’s so accepted that it’s seldom noticed.
This is the country where people like JK Rowling and her ilk screech like crows about the poor immigrants that need to be housed among the lower classes but never in their own massive and drafty mansions.
I feel lucky that I was almost never in a position where I had to be mindful of any pecking order. Self important people, especially inbred and imperious, to the manor born types. I’m no serf and never will be. I may be broke and intentionally marginalized but that is where their power ends. I care only about the opinion of the divine. If the divine recognizes me, no one else matters. I mean, they do matter, as everyone matters and this is what makes impersonal love so effective and you can’t do without it. You don’t have to worry about abrasive personalities, or those who live in a narcissistic world of self reflection, in a twisted mirror that looks like they think it should, because their mirror adjusts to their own idea of themselves …but you can love them all because God is in there somewhere, or they wouldn’t be here. You just have to find it with your secret eyes of the soul and identify it. It’s going to come forward for you. It might not come forward for any number of other people because they are not looking for it, it has to be invoked, so they get trapped in personality conflicts. The personality is just a surface condition. You see past that and by recognizing the single similarity between all persons, that is the part that interacts with you. Basically you are always dealing with the same person, whether they know this or not. My chances of being called Sir Visible are not great at the moment (grin). I do get called Lord Visible a lot but that’s an honorarium.
Here is the single most important thing to be aware of in life. You cannot control how others may behave and you can’t control how they think and name the portions of the world, according to their imagined ownership of it but… you can control how you react. If you can catch yourself at every point and command your reactions, you are in control of the situation. If you value nothing but the good will of the ineffable then you can’t be bought, or influenced by the prospect of material gain. People may be unaware that you are controlling yourself. They will surely be puzzled at their inability to influence you and that hits on a subconscious level and makes you a force to be reckoned with, even if you remain a mystery to them. The only drawback is that people are terrified of what they don’t understand. Frightened people can be dangerous but since you are dealing with the interior divinity that is all you have to concern yourself with. The interior indwelling is ALWAYS in control of what it sits behind; just like the driver of a car with the steering wheel. Just like Krishna behind Arjuna. Either you fight with the indwelling, or you harmonize with the primal force of all forces and all other forces will instinctively retreat without being aware of it on any objective level. We live in a world where people are at war with themselves so they are reflexively at war with the world around them. For the rare member of our kind who is not at war with themselves, everything harmonizes with them without conscious thought.
There is no Armageddon, the battle is and has always been already won and it is an interior battle. This is the real and true meaning of Jihad. It is not knowing this that puts people in fear of the unknown and what lies ahead. It’s different when the infinite lies before, behind and within you. This is a state of mind. You simply employ it. You go through life as if God were living the life through you. Since this is true and you are measured and defined according to your level of resistance to it, being without resistance affirms that the divine is living through you. This being the case, everything works… everything works and your are in possession of a sense of freedom that is generally unknown. It is a freedom that goes beyond the definition that any separated mind can conceive of and it is the one mind that lives in this freedom, that possesses this freedom as an operative feature of its nature and therefore, so do you. You possess and have access to everything that the ineffable has because you and the ineffable are one. The New Testament is filled with statements to this effect. I and my father are one. Hmmm… I was about to say something and then I realized there was nothing to say, nor could it be said by anyone. It can be lived but it cannot be defined or described. “That’s fine with me.” he said, as it defined him.
End Transmission…….
“I’m A New Age Twinkie.”


I I am a creator, by the grace of inspiration, in various media, by the grace of God, the love of whom, is the centerpiece of my life.