Mr Apocalypse is Banging on the Judgement Drum

Visible Origami – March 6, 2012

Dog Poet Transmitting…….
May your noses always be cold and wet.
Putin is president of Russia again. Iran just had a legal and successful election. Israel is completely out of control. The American system is entirely corrupt and owned by the central banks and multinational corporations. What does it all mean? It means that this world we live in is being scripted like a Hollywood movie. The big question is; who is the director? It stands to reason, metaphysically, that everything is moving toward a destined conclusion. In a purely material sense, none of it makes any sense. I’m going to go with the concept that those setting us up and tormenting the world for their own sick enjoyments, are being setup themselves and are going to stand as a lasting lesson about what happens when you overstep yourself; when your grasp exceeds your reach.
We are seeing and experiencing what we are seeing and experiencing because the satanic bankers have gotten themselves into big trouble because the fire of their greed has outstripped their good sense. They are desperate to create a world war in order to take the public’s attention off of the magnitude of their crimes. Mr Apocalypse is banging on the judgment drum and he’s pointing his finger at them through the eyes of all awakening souls. It’s a contagion of awakening and it will be brimming with payback. It’s not as if everyone is as vengeful and violent as they are. What it is is that there can be no balance or harmony until the bankers have been dealt with one way or another. They are behind all of the chaos and harm of our times. Yes, the boys from Filthy Lucre LTD have been very bad. They have maimed, crippled and killed millions. They’ve poisoned the landscape of both foreign and domestic lands. The magnitude and scope of their crimes is off the charts.
It’s only natural for people to fear the possibilities of what might happen. We have the historical record, as twisted and altered as it may be, it still reads like a blood soaked litany of relentless abuse; the pyramid of skulls at Pnom Phen, Tamerlane’s concrete wall of living men, Zionism’s murder of tens of millions in Russia and many more throughout the centuries, Genghis Khan, the massacres of indigenous peoples, Mao and his countless victims. The list runs around the corner, into the bodego and on out into the back alley to God knows where; pursued by the restless ghosts of forever damned conquistadors. So, it’s natural to expect terrible things out of the conditions of the moment. It might be that terrible circumstances will come about in select locations. It’s like there being nothing accidental about all those people getting on the same airplane that’s scheduled to go down in a mountain range.
It is a most difficult art for the mind to be able to come to grips with. The storm is raging, while the certifiably insane have seeming control of the world around us. Only within do I gain any comfort from the world of nightmare appearances. Something inside tells me that it’s all under control for the purposes of demonstration. The birds of Spring arrived from somewhere last evening. All you hear through the winter are the harsh cries of the ravens. Suddenly songbirds have landed in the trees outside my window; at night? Well, these aren’t the usual times are they?
There were all sorts of good reasons for us to come here in this time. The cosmos is designed like a magic watch. Countless cogs turn according to their own mysterious nature. Some don’t turn at all, except in certain periods and they are connected to doorways and portals that resonate with the possibilities of special configurations. It stands to reason that there would be forces of resistance at work. It’s not difficult to see in the world around us the effect of these resistances. Certainly the burning fever of the material realm, dispenses strange intoxications that cause people to see garbage as an object of desire and to view the world through the lens of appetite. It’s a no brainer that most of the dead animals by the side of the road are there because of food and sex. These powerful instinctive magnetisms are no less present in the less than human majority of bi-pedal delusion bots. They march on like hungry ghosts in an endless swamp. They believe the lights of St. Elmos fire is a neon cocktail glass, signifying the presence of the pub at the end of the universe. And you can’t tell them a damn thing. It might be good sense not to be too close to any large congregation of them, because ignorance is highly flammable and when it gets concentrated it can definitely heat up under the suffocating press of all those filthy rags from the manipulated scriptures.
I look at the tragic-comic absurdity of the movers and shakers in the world and it seems patently clear to me that there has to be some kind of metaphysical mechanism that is making the strings move and the puppets dance. It just doesn’t make sense to me any other way. It’s too classic and cinematic. The hubristic ridiculous is a cartoon. Things couldn’t get this crazy unless some higher sanity was trying to get someone’s attention. Well, it isn’t working apparently. I am absolutely flat out amazed at the brush fire psychosis that is sweeping through the minds of those who have lost their capacity to reason or to think. There has to be more going on than what the bandwidth of the senses reports. I can feel it. I can’t interpret it. I’m trying to align but someone saddle-soaped my surfboard instead of using Mr. Zog’s Sex Wax and… how come he’s called ‘Zog’?
Balance has to be the key, given the degree of difficulty in maintaining it. Every time you think you’ve figured out the break, it goes sideways on you again and of course, riptides and undertows are the big guns below the surface. I keep trying to let go but there comes a point where you need some kind of official approval. For someone who knows the fickle realities of surf, some period of surrender can be helpful, once you find yourself at the mercy of strange tides and attractions. Undertows can pull you out to a point where you can reconnoiter. Rip tides have to wind up somewhere, hopefully not on the reef at the far end of the cove. Sometimes it seems you have worse odds than a crap-shoot. I’ve never been a fan of dice. I always like to feel as if I have some say in how the game goes. The only way that applies to dice is if they happen to be loaded. Some games of poker are more user friendly and that’s why I have little use for Blackjack. It takes a specialized mind to come out ahead at that table. It’s okay for the house to set the odds in their favor. They’ve got all the lawyers, documents and guns; “calling it your job don’t make it right, Boss”.
The stupidest game in the house is the slot machines, that’s why there are so many of them. People sit there with coffee cups filled with coins and just crank away, wishing and hoping and dying by inches. There are more people at the slots than anywhere else and that applies literally and metaphorically. I was in a European casino a few years ago. It’s the one where all the Russian expats go. They pretty much own the town. It’s interesting to watch their faces. They look like kids at a Punch and Judy show. It was a little crowded for me so I went downstairs to the slots. There were plenty of those. I had about fifty Euro on me and I went over to one of the machines and started putting one Euro pieces in. I’d put about ten of them in when I said to myself, “What the Hell am I doing”? I realized there was all kinds of fun and useful things I could do with 40 Euro and otherwise, I might as well just pitch the money into the street. I walked out of there and went and did something else; can’t remember what that was but I am sure I enjoyed it more than where I’d been previously. Sure, on any given evening you can walk away a winner but you’ll lose and lose big over the long haul. Only very few people have the particular gift needed to surf those waters, if it is a gift.
That’s what people are doing now. They’re gambling against the inevitable and they’re losing. The ugly indifference of their kind to anything happening to other people, due to their indifference, is despicable. Nature is sending tornadoes across the land but they don’t make the connection. The various theaters of human endeavor are all in chaos. It’s the birth pangs of the age and nothing wants to go easy into the compost. It’s undertows and rip tides. It’s shaking the foundations and infrastructures and everything people used to have faith in no longer has any faith in them.
There has to be more going on. When you move high enough and far enough away to see it, you’re too far away to be able to identify it. When the very worst among us, finally does their worst, the entire dynamic will shift overnight and there is no telling what will happen when you can’t get the things that made your former life function. There’s no telling what happens when the price of oil is suddenly ten times higher. We are walking on a cliff edge in a hard rain. I’m not going to think about it too much. I generally don’t, except when I have to write about it. I’m just watching and waiting because what is important to me is quite different from what seems to be important to most people.
I’d say the that the greater the draw and attraction of the mind to external conditions, the more important it is to look at what is going on inside you. That’s the key area where your useful tools are stored and you never know when something new is going to show up or how important it is to know that it is there. I figure if the whole thing is scripted then the prop department is definitely on the set.
End Transmission…….

Source

Otherwise known as Smoking Mirrors, Les Visible provides a voiceover in a disintegrating culture as Reflections in a Petri Dish. While in his guise as Visible Origami, Les offers perspectives on the invisible forces shaping our world

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