Monday, April 30, 2018

Bitches and Ho's and Mop Glow Floes with Smiley Face, Polar Bears.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

It's Sunday! Sunday afternoon. Here at Aquasco Speedway. Big Daddy Dan Gurlitz is rolling out of the hills of South Carolina, just north of the Lee Correctional Facility at Bishopville, SC. With his 4-barrel, hemi-topped, microcephalic, chrome plated, pinhead 457. It's all good.

Something happened in the night last night; don't know what it was. It was good and charged with energy. Yesterday I woke up in the early evening after a short nap, disoriented and hearing that I was in countdown mode and might not be here all that much longer. Time passed and I understood that not much longer did not mean sometime the next day or next year but time to think about winding up those details that have been hanging around, waiting for me to get a clue about them; not time for me to start making plans, cause it never is or will be.

What a load of Schise-poopie!!! Here comes the Stepford Wife, Marching Band, with the hydrocephalic majorette. If you really want stupid, we've got it for you. What a great statement! What a motivation. Kids... you going to try that at home? Some passing jogger saw a grass fire going on in Central Park. Later the departed lawyer was hit with an environmental offense for starting a fire in the park. He was the marriage project director over at LAMDA; marriage project director? WTF? He's protesting the use of fossil fuel; no word on any Polar Bears floating on melting ice floes. We've got it when you need it however.

We don't have to worry, because they've got no quit in them whatsoever. They're finding peace, though they aren't giving us any. They're the Energizer Bunnies of dysfunction. Their avatar is the Grizzly Man. “I'll never be your beast of burden.”

Looks like the grizzlies won't be either.

How do we make sense of it all? We don't. That's not our job. We've here to have sense made out of it for us. It's clear to me now what my biggest mistake has been all along; trying to make sense out of it. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here between God and the Devil, to make sure it's all on the level- mountains and valleys, mountains and valleys.

You're all out there with the clock counting down, same as me. There's less time than we thought there was and more time than we think there is. If you want to see somebody, then you have to getter done, sooner, rather than later. In a world where the powers that thought they were want Kanye Sleaze for president, anything can happen, even if nothing really does. Whatever was/is that could have happened, already happened.

Many things that could have happened and did/or did not happen, go through my mind now, as I reflect on what I think I remember about the past. I'm not sitting in a rocking chair. I'm not wearing an oxygen mask. I'm not dreaming about the past, or wishing and hoping about the future. What will be will be. What was was what was.

If it has been a mind-numbing dumb as it has been, how much dumber can we expect it to get? There appear to be no limits and we are dealing with appearances. Things of this nature come to mind on a regular basis, when I am watching play off games and I get to see the commercials, in those few moments before I can find the remote and there's some guy with no hand looking to play in the NFL, where there are no playoff games going on at the moment and the guys not gay, so I'm pondering the relevance as well. It will come to me but... not cause I went looking for it. You can be sure of what you are going to find with 58 channels and nothing on, here in the land of tits and asses... bitches and ho's and whatever else they answer to by any other definition. Billie Jean just came on the box in another room. Here the mute button is on in that place where they never actually have a half time report, they just keep cutting to the commercial with more tits and asses and bitches and ho's.

If you don't know what 'amniotic band syndrome' is, its something that takes place in the gestation location.

The bitches and ho's are ubiquitous, be they sports figures, politicians, people with pony tails; be they drug dealers or record producers, religious figures, or meth heads.

Day follows day. Tomorrow awaits tomorrow, as it never comes, while- 'all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty deaths' out out, the none too brief. No matter what, day follows day, until the last day and that just starts over again too. It is no surprise that one gets tired at some point along the way. I keep waiting. You keep waiting, the buzzer goes off and one of us comes in for the other and then it happens in reverse but it happens as if it were going forward and I can't make head or tails of it, though they say it comes up even over the long run.

I look at my guitars that hang on the wall, I can't see the one in the other room. I look at my keyboard and I can see the notes from unwritten songs wafting in the air above the instruments. I look at all the cables hanging from the hooks and the stacks of poems that are in a box somewhere, the autobiography that will never get written, thank god for that. I look at the teal reupholstered chair to my right that no one is sitting in. That might change, probably will change for a moment here or there. No here or there about the chair. It doesn't move all that much. I look the monitors on the desk. I look at the desk. They're tell me, “Dancing with The Stars” is coming up. I've never seen it. Billions is coming up this evening. The last Game of Thrones series is around the corner. My pasta machine is in a cabinet somewhere and I wonder if I will ever get that squid ink I need to make the fresh black pasta that I have been thinking about for a long time now. There are all these things on the bucket list (which I don't have) waiting for action or to be moved to the fuck-it list (which I do have).

The problem I think is figuring out which of them have priority. The black pasta is not more important than the poetry, or is it? The poetry has been written but the black pasta has yet to be made. People think (some people) that if I use the word, Nazi, as an implied negative, regardless of whether I say it is or not, that I am offending Hitler. I don't actually have an opinion on Hitler. He was just a player too but I automatically become a player hater. Some are going to say, “good on you, visible”. Some are going to get pissed but I don't think Hitler is concerned one way or the other. I definitely think the Bolsheviks were worse. That you can take to the central banks. Now the TV tells me, before I could get to the remote that, “sometimes you have to un-follow your old dreams”. I have no idea what that is supposed to mean, nor do I care.

We've got the radio broadcast coming up shortly. Those are on some kind of a countdown to get unfollowed. Whether it was ever intended for them they are getting mailed in, regardless of the intention. You can only say the same thing over and over so many times before they are obviously getting mailed in; all's well that ends sooner or later.

We wish all of you the very best this weekend, as we prepare to cut this posting short before we continue to say things over and over. Hold fast my friends, to the ineffable and the ineffable will hold fast to you with something stronger and more lasting than Gorilla Grip.

End Transmission.......

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Death by Hypocrisy and Demon Worship; the Israeli Way.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

Please forgive the use of bad language to punctuate bad behavior. There is no culture on Earth more evil and Satanic than that of Israel founded on the Nazi formula of Theodor Herzl and financed by the Satanic first family of arch-devils, Rothschild clan. The evil of the AshkeNAZI empire had its origin in the translation of the Ashkenazim into Khazar's. In the 9th century, King Bulan of Khazaria got hoodwinked by a filth peddling Talmudist. The Ashka-nimrods object to this linkage which is all the proof needed that it is so. If they say something is so, it is not and if they say something is not so, it is. This is a good rule of thumb to measure them by and it is always a spiritual affirmation to stick that thumb up your ass for emphasis and their version of an holy oil immersion process.

The evil done by this microscopic reptile, virus population, is by far greater than that of any people on Earth, no matter what you call them. For thousands of years, when they were called other names, they have been a predator clan unlike any ever seen before, they have done monstrous things to everyone else. The Bolshevik Revolution and following Leninist Stalinist regimes were entirely their construction and tens of millions died brutally, the victims of torture and a virulent atheism, which probably can't be called atheism because they do believe in the various devils for whom they perform terrible blood rituals of slaughter on their so-called holy days; more properly called Unholy Days.

Their latest vulgar and violent actions are against the Syrian people. They have already slaughtered millions in just about every middle eastern nation that is not one of their sodomite bottoms. It is said that the United States, Britain and France were behind the attacks on Syria, and what they don't say is, Israel is behind them, actually running the policies of these countries through 3 vehicles; one is the powers of the infernal realm, two is their control of international finance (they hate when you say this) and three is their control of the media, where they can announce that Syria is proven to have used chemical weapons, as if it were a fully confirmed truth, when it is a lie. Everything negative and fabricated about the Syrian government is vetted in Israel and whatever center of iniquity they are operating out of and then passed on to the demonic swine policy makers in the major western power centers, where they fellate and fluff their overlords in ceremonial rituals of negative affirmation of the ones whose interests they serve.

You are utter swine and not even cannibalistic man eating pigs can hold a candle to you. I have aptly named you crocodile swine in the past, which is an insult to both. Your catamite agents in London; the center of your banking brothels, the city center, the aristocracy and the craven, psychopathic politicians were the agency behind the Syrian false flag (look at their faces!). Your corrupt and infected press is like the most odious, genuflecting sycophant, bowing, backing up and naked behind, as it seeks to be hammered by it's evil pleasuring, fake human, demon at the sweet center axis. I feel really bad and that, is really gooood! Stir the shit. It's your thang; ain't no thang, orangutang!

Speaking of odious, how about that Holocaust Horseshit. If you are pushing this crapapola (interesting, my word processing, spelling software, offered to insert Rappaport for 'crapapola'. Heh heh. You know what I am doing? You know what it's called? It's called, “speaking truth to power”, that's what it's called. If you promote this hoax, you are also promoting murdering, blackmailing and enslaving other members of the human race; of which identification you are presently removing yourself from. You are either a willing conspirator, like Eli the Weasel, or you are deluded and should be in recovery or... you're lost. You've got the same level with me as someone texting in their car while driving and probably on the Oxycontin, I was supposed to get as well, I'm going to do my best to be nowhere around you and I am going to make it a part of my written endeavors to expose you.

There is only one reason a person would engage in such deceptions- MONEY... Gelt... L'Argent... of course, that goes with your native territory.

Your evil empire will fall. It will fall by your own hand but the devices of its destruction and the torments and time involved must for the poetry of it, be in other hands. I already see you fallen in my heart and mind. You are crumbling as I write these words. There is a flame at the tail of the paper tiger. You have assuredly lost the battle and for you, the devil really is in the details. As you can see, courageous souls are speaking out everywhere and Mr. Apocalypse is intensifying his anointing of more to do so and beating the bushes where you've hidden the truth so that they may see it. You cannot kill the truth. You can only occasionally kill the messenger. The truth in it's simultaneous ugliness and beauty is unkillable. The truth's most overpowering emotion, as an archetype, is a hatred and detestation of lies.

The day is dawning. The time is coming. The caravan is moving. The stagehands are dismantling one stage and erecting another. Every stage is a scaffold and there are more than one meaning for the word. The world is a unique and living creature. For all the horrors of the Kali Yuga there is an overlord whose vision exceeds the distance of sight that any mortal can view and his powers are limitless in his or her sphere. I think the most succinct way I can put it, with all available brevity, is... you're fucked.

I KNOW, for reasons left unsaid here, that you are aware of your fate and that you can feel the intensity of its author. The cold chill of inevitability is your constant companion. It is relentless. It ratchets up. It winds tighter and tighter and keener and keener. It is not unlike that experienced by the saints and seekers but... the outcome... the outcome is so very, very different. It will be like finding that your aged, Provolone sandwich has been turned to shit. This is both figurative and literal.

I don't pray for you. I know that I should. I have looked for reasons and am left with the consideration that I am too selfish. I convince myself that I do not have the time with everything else I do and I have to have times of respite, especially as time marches on me. Time marches on all of us. Perhaps I will find the time and inspiration to be less selfish. Sometimes I wonder at the strange alchemy of my life that has impressed on me that I could not survive if I did not have periods of respite. Madness would surely be attendant in any case.

This latest British-Syrian White Helmets bullshit is just another death rattle from the Death Rattlers. I suspect you are having more and more trouble breathing. That is because of the continuing increase of toxic lies and actions in your atmosphere. Lao Tzu is reputed to have said in one of his offerings, something like, 'in the end, the people will turn to each other and say, we did it all ourselves', implying that they did not really. You are going to be able to say the same thing, for different reasons and with a different outcome. So... hoist that Jolly Roger, let the winds of destiny fill your sails. They are hanging pirates in the morning and Johnny Depp will not be playing you. You get to be in your own movie.

Okay... we'll cut it short. There isn't anything more to say. Holay!

End Transmission.......

Sunday, April 1, 2018

Transmissions from Easter Sunday, April Fool's Day- Gone but not Forgotten, Here.

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

Here comes Easter, on April Fool's Day. Now... That is interesting. Most people don't care about Easter much anymore. It has about the same relevance to them as April Fool's Day. Evil, like rust, never sleeps though and that is why you see these disturbing trends going on. As a prescient man once said, Edmund Burke, I believe... “Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.” Thank god for Easter! Whether you are onboard or not (I am). Eternal vigilance is the province of the ineffable. It is the ineffable that makes it possible for us to be vigilant and when the world is overcome with disorder, the ineffable sends us someone like Jesus Christ.

Most people wander about indifferently or obsessed with unimportant things. It's the job of the world to place these snares before us and it is the job of the ineffable to remove them. Of course, if you look deeper, it is the job of the ineffable to do both. The people, most of them, who run the alternative news gathering sites, for whatever the reason is, don't like talk about the ineffable. Either they are stone cold atheists or vain egotists, or both. It comes with the territory. There's a reason that the path is to the kingdom is a solitary one. You got to walk that road all by yourself but... you won't be walking it alone. Whenever someone walks that path, someone who has already walked that path walks it with them. The same goes for the wide highway that leads to destruction. You got all kinds of people walking that way and the majority don't know where they are going, or they wouldn't be going. Right? Ese?

You don't want to be breaking bad with God. You want your head bent and on your knees as a statement of respect and awareness for the everlasting. There is a reason the everlasting is everlasting and you are only in the process. That is all you need to know and that the everlasting loves you and has been walking by your side all the way, while waiting at the end of the road; Alpha and Omega like.

That is what makes Easter an important event. It celebrates the process. Walking in the steps of the master means walking in the steps of the master; “pick up your cross and follow me!” Coming into glory is not the same as walking 'down' the yellow brick road into tra la la la land. That's what everyone else is doing. Easter is a glorious event. In the Way to the Kingdom it is described how those who have earned the right are taken in their sleep to the re-enactment of it. From what I am told, it happens every year. There are ceremonial portals that open at the same time every year. The is an entire 'other' reality that is being lived by some, unbeknownst to those who are not so engaged, given that “there are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than were ever dreamed of in your philosophies.” It's all there, laid out for you to see should you choose to inquire. Practically anything you want to know, or learn to do or experience can be found in a search engine, on youtube or the Dark Web; that subconscious ocean below the mainstreaming. Of course, there is another one, the bright web above... perhaps this 'cloud' is a part of that but... it's not what I am talking about, given that it's just a storage dump for things formerly resident in all the other places. Once again, “as above, so below.”

Most people are more appreciative of the Fourth of July and New Year's Eve, cause you can drink and drive and celebrate with a DUI. Generally Christmas gets some attention for gifts and people being more charitable than usual but the spiritual angle went south some while ago, except in certain quarters.

Easter is off to the side somehow. People are less concerned with resurrection than they are with the momentary distractions that have never been as proliferate and plentiful as they now are. There are reasons for everything. If there is a welter of distractions taking place then there is a reason for it and one should take serious care to be mindful of what that is.

I am an hour away from Easter Sunday as I write this, an hour away, my time. The distractions are considerable but I will keep my focus. Maybe I will catch the wave and maybe I won't, this time but I'll be thinking about it and looking for it. We've all got our ambitions, objectives whatever they may be. Mine are to make a lasting contact with the divine and reap the possibilities of interaction that are there. I'm probably not going about it the right way and probably not coming from the right place but the objective is more important that anything else and you have to take your shot at every opportunity because they come far less often than the distractions. The closer you get, the more distractions you have to deal with. The higher up the mountain you progress, the heavier the winds are. It comes with the territory. People may not know why they eschew the high and narrow passageway but there are reasons aplenty and they are as old as time itself.

We have a built in awareness of what lies out there in the unknown; the fears and terrors we imagine that are actually within us and that we carry with us, should be venture into the unknown, so we stay with the familiar, the death exit limbo stop on the highway to nowhere and we yearn for freedom and clarity but we refuse to risk it. We refuse to risk it all to have it all. We compromise instead and limbo/purgatory continues within the safe lines that we march in from one life to the next and Easter comes every year. Every year, everything becomes more commercialized, until Easter turns into April Fool's Day and everything means something. There are no accidents in ourselves or in nature.

I don't know what to expect anymore. All I do know is to expect the unexpected and to remain calm and centered because the distractions want to keep our attention off of the eternal and put it on the temporary, to make us temporary and redundant and repetitive, from life to life, again and again, chained on the wheel of fiery desire. Easter is not far away now so I will pause in this commentary and resume it again tomorrow.

Back again, here on the morning. As I have gone to my news site. There is not one mention of Easter whatsoever. That... I have never seen before. First person I ran into this morning, while I was thinking about Jesus Christ... said something about The Easter Bunny. Sometimes I really don't like it when I am right. This would be one of those times. That said, however much we are all together, we are also alone consistently at points along our way; ordinary points and cardinal points.

There is the heart of it. There it is. To gain the kingdom, you must want it more than anything else. Times come and go. As temporary as time may seem, it goes on forever. It is within this framework that we must be in due diligence, like some practitioner of pointillism; an impressionist, 'intending' to leave an impression cause that person was paying attention; wailing into the wilderness. Maybe that is why I can't shake the desire to spend a few days walking in the Sequoia National Forest and revisit Joshua Tree as well. There is good reason for one to want to go away to a beach somewhere and just be there for awhile, lost in thought with nothing for distraction except ocean waves, seagulls and the sun and wind.

When I met the Man on the Beach, there was also a lady there. I think she had a young boy around her. I had noticed guys coming around at times to talk to her (hit on her?). At one point I passed her and asked. “If you could be anything at all, what would you want to be?” She said, “a seagull.” She had been sitting alone so I asked, “Do you like being alone?” She replied, “Yes, don't you?” I don't know what that is apropos of but there are tangential connections here in the post.

Still no mention of Easter. It could happen, since I am bringing it up. In the meantime, we are mentioning Easter here. So it goes... postings from visible, sitting on a beach somewhere, in his mind, on Easter Sunday, 2018.

Happy Christ-filled Easter!

End Transmission.......