Smoking Mirrors – April 7, 2023

Dog Poet Transmitting…….

Welcome to the age of delusion. Welcome to The Boomslang Boomerang Hall of Mirrors. Welcome to the other side of the fallen log, in Jungleland, just off The Gulf of Guinea, where the Gaboon Vipers wait; one bite and you are in San Francisco for life. The overarching view is that might not be a really long time until it happens again, and again, and again.

Welcome to the dense parts of The Suffocating Veil of Illusion. It’s a franchise bar operation in every city of The World. All the bartenders are Green Mambas that multiply like the brooms in The Sorcerer’s Apprentice with every drink you take. Drink deeply… dream deeply… that’s what the neon sign says behind the bar.

Welcome to The Court of Mammon. It’s a movable feast that’s presently serving in Lebanon. All the bartenders there are rattlesnake chasers that you can’t outrun. Most people don’t know that rattlesnakes will chase you… if you piss them off, BUT… what happens when they are… always pissed off?

The Court of Mammon is a dense black cube that presses in on itself. Your sense of confinement intensifies with every moment of residency. The way in shrinks behind you. It’s like something Escher would paint on PCP. It’s a Hellraiser film that plays in your head, and you live forever wishing that you were dead… but you can’t die.

Welcome to The Place Where You Can’t Forget. Where The Past follows you like a shadow beneath a florescent sun. It’s an endless reel of the worst things you’ve ever seen and done, with a laugh-track audience inside your head, and the bartenders are water moccasins that live under your skin. It’s got a museum with living exhibits… and one of the most popular animations is Bill Gates and George Soros joined at the hip, getting a frottage massage from George W. Bush, with a loofah made of fire ants.

You can use the Biden Family Memorial Restroom on your way out- if you can get out… and don’t wind up as an exhibit. I’ll leave the fixtures to your imagination.

The Body Parts Lounge is a transsexual watering hole, right next to The AMA-Pharmaceutical Credit Union, where they take souls as collateral with an easy payment plan… that’s factored in lifetimes so that you can stretch the pain out to a tolerable degree, while you continue to try and change the way things are, and just when you find the solution, you wake up in the same place the day before with messages all over your body that you don’t understand.

Variations on these themes are the guaranteed follow-up to your passing from here. There’s no way to escape it. You built it and they came. All the worst creatures of the imagination come out of the woodwork like a bad acid trip that never wears off.

Yes… you get the lights… camera… action; unless it’s happening in the dark. All the grips and roadies are the people you did bad things to the last time you were here.

I’m not even close to painting a picture of what you will see; “oh the places you’ll go and the things you will see,” with Cenobites as the waiters and the maître de. Where the cocktail waitresses are crocodiles in drag, who smile at you with tears in their eyes, and you get to go home with one every night; where you sleep on a waterbed in a wastewater package plant.

These are only a few paltry images of where you’re headed. They can’t come close to the real thing. This is what awaits those who thought they could do as they pleased, and… all… the… while… they were writing the script on human skin with fiery ink, for a movie to be filmed on location wherever you are, so… this is why I feel bad for you over at Black Rock… and Vanguard… and State Street, where endless cancer of the testicles does a Riverdance in Goldman’s sack, and you get to be a free radical chained to a rock, where legions of the people… that you drove insane… devour your organs again, and again.

And you can’t wake up! And you can’t wake up!! And you can’t wake up!!! You shoulda looked at those Thangas of The Buddhist Wheel of Life. Did you think Hieronymus made all those things up? Was Dante on drugs? Gehenna and Tartarus are forks in the road, and all along you could see the signs, like those for Burma Shave and Harrah’s Casino for thousands of miles, but… really… you saw them long before that. Maybe you just had a mind to go and see what Hell was like?

How do you get to Hell anyway? There are no road maps; no GPS… no signs outside the cave entrance, BUT… there are assuredly… ways to get there. You’re doing all the right things this very moment. Even if there had been no road previously, you built the highway with your every thought… word… and deed.

In your dreams at night you can hear Cerberus howling. You can see the forms in the red mist that call from the periphery… in the voices of Bakasura and Baal. Every appetite and desire has a face of fire, ever-changing in the flames while remaining the same. You see your reflection in the smoldering mirror; how ever did you get there? How did you get to look like that?

These are a very few of so many reasons that I don’t hate you; why you cause no anger in me. When I close my eyes and see the Rothschild exhibit at the county fair in the center of The Earth, I note that even though they are still here, they are already there as well. A part of them is in perpetual residence, in their winter home. Your heart must burn in an acid bath to hurt others so

Sometimes… I muse at what it took for you to get so far down that road. Everything human in a person must cringe and rebel at the passage, but there is something less than human in you, and with power to spare. It ensures that you will arrive there.

What a distance you have come! From small injuries to everyone in reach… to massive harm delivered at a distance. From grubby beginnings to glittering suites, high above the city… you climbed every step of the way, over the bodies of your victims, to the top of The Shit-Heap in your mind. You took God’s remarkable creation and self-sculpted a tragedy incarnate. You… fed… The… Beast. You nurtured it in your breast. You transformed Love into a tire-fire on Seven Mile Road.

How did you get like this? How did Evil become your rap partner and shipmate? It must have started a very long time ago. In times forgotten now, where no relics remain.

Long ago… all of the landmarks and evidence were turned into sand. In the incomprehensible mind of God, it must make sense somehow… for you to poison generations with Killer Vaccines… to load up the waterways in Iraq with depleted uranium; for you to say it was “worth it” for sanctions to kill 500,000 children.

I suppose it would be redundant to ask how you sleep at night.

The historical record of your visits is etched in blood… fury… and pain. How did you get so angry and so vile? How did you find your way to laughter over the things you did? How did you come to celebrate evil in the sheer joy of doing?

Surely there is a reason for it all. Somehow… you… and the people you do these things to… have a compact. Somewhere in the dark past of forgotten horrors, you conspired… you and the victims conspired to arrange for your encounters.

Do you just change roles from life to life? Do you rotate your turns in the barrel? It must be so… because nothing else makes sense. Here… here… is where everything previously contracted for, and agreed upon… happens over and over again, in perpetual carnage and suffering, across a span of countless lifetimes of self-abuse that is liberally shared with all and sundry of similar minds.

I can’t hate you. You hate yourself far more than I could ever manage. Somehow… you and the others in the dramas that play, have agreed upon a course of events. It is a tragedy beyond the telling because it never had to be at all.

I can see it clearly now. It is all a matter of choices made in The Separated Mind, and this is simply how they go about achieving unity… by tearing everything else apart.

Fortunately, there are other roads to travel, for those of us who seek The Light.

I have found a finer road to travel and I hope you will all know that you are welcome at any time to join me and The Great Companions who have gone on before; who wait just up ahead… and around the bend… and come ever so slowly into view as you develop the eyes to see them, by virtue of divine purification rites… which occur when love is turned in upon itself and then rolls back out over everyone else.

One can never go wrong by taking their cues and corrections from The Sun.

End Transmission…….

Some links are to be found at GAB=

https://gab.com/visible

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