The Whole of It was to Sanctify The Glory Hole Mindset of The Sword-Swallowing Misfits from... The... Bottomless... Pit.

God Poet Transmitting…….

I take events like this a little more seriously than a lot of people. Signs and wonders are a reality, but you shouldn’t rely on or expect them to make credible… what you should already believe in. It’s The World that is an illusion, not God. God is the everlasting real that the false world is only a pale shadow of.

The reality of The Almighty is a light so bright that mortal eyes cannot view it. Strangely enough, in order to see anything with your physical eyes, it has to be less than real. A certain corruption enters into every form. Some are less pure and some are more pure than others. This is the reason for inspired art. It points us in the direction of what we can’t actually look at directly. It lifts the heart and the imagination so that… for a moment… you catch a glimpse of something in The Mind’s Eye.

True art… be it poetry… song… or any inspired creation in a recognizable format, is evidence that something beautiful and majestic exists outside the range of the senses. It calls to us, and if the heart responds, then it is possible that something equally as great might be brought forth from the imagination of anyone who is touched by true beauty. It is just a matter of coming into a closer and more persistent resonance with The Everlasting.

When it looked like there was going to be a flowering of the age some decades earlier, The Usual Suspects, who owned over 90% of all the art galleries, and also made up the majority of artist reps, as well as controlling publishing and the record companies, made it a point to ONLY promote the most degenerate creators, in order to obfuscate the connection between inspired art and human emotion. This is where Warhol and all the other poseurs came from.

Poetry in anything but the most prosaic form was discouraged, and only what was debased… depraved… morally twisted, and generally Hellish in aspect… was permitted in songs, movies, or anywhere else. They couldn’t go full nightmare, so they created other categories of banal… saccharine… mindless… and bubblegum noise for the eyes and ears. Some real art did get through. They can’t stop all of it.

They gave Disney creatures enemas, then let the effluvia dry, and then shrink-wrapped it for sale at your local shit-shop.

They did this intentionally, and the result is clear to be seen if you are still capable of an objective perspective. They knew the effect that high art has on human sensibilities, so they befouled everything or sent it packing. This remains one of their greatest crimes, and they have many awful offenses against the noble graces, against manners, and against the characteristics and qualities that make for a better world.

I’ve never seen much said about this by anyone except for Lasha Darkmoon and Patrick Willis. Most people don’t seem to notice, and somehow, there just weren’t enough real artists around to complain. Shit just became the currency. It was shit in the images and shit in the sounds, which shaped the culture into a shit-worshiping… dead-eyed chorus of dissonant voices.

It became a celebration of wet-brain mumblers and hypes on the nod, who waxed rhapsodic about Urban Truth… the truff of the streets… the downtown gritty of real life on The Pipe, on it’s back… and on it’s knees, taking it in the wrong openings, to affirm a liberation from the constraints of Nature’s Laws. It’s the Doggie Style Epistles of The Protocols of Satan.

It’s what gave us the B-52s and Robert Maplethorpe. It elevated the in-your-face profanities of Alan Ginsberg and the perverse mockery of his Hare Krishna harmonium exhibitionism. The whole of it was to sanctify the glory-hole mindset of the sword-swallowing misfits from The Bottomless Pit.

I watched it all happen. I was a consistent target of the unpublished blacklist. The doors were closed before I even got into the building. Not important. God decides as he pleases, and not all the bottom-feeding armies of the pederast world can successfully oppose His Will. It is all for The Purpose of Demonstration.

The World is backward and upside down. If you are a talentless hack, you have a better than even chance of making a name for yourself. You will still be a talentless hack, no matter how many laudatory commentaries are written in your honor, BUT… if you can wax golden like The Sun itself… crystallized into the form of God’s deathless romance with you… THEY will hose it down with moonlight and Cheetos.

It’s just The Way of The World, and you need to remember that you don’t live here. You are ONLY passing through. Sometimes there are no best minds of our generation. What there was… was generated in limited editions. The passion for truth is always represented, regardless of the effort to suppress it.

God has a remarkable pecking order, a vetting system, if you will, a way of shaping, sculpting, and burnishing a soul, so that it gleams incandescent through the ages… as a reminder of what is possible; something to shoot for, if your aim is true. God doesn’t miss anything, and regardless of how beyond definition and incomprehensible he may be as The All in All, he can be surprisingly human… disarmingly so. It’s not The Devil who got all the charm. God’s just a little harder to find, and convenience will damn you as hard as any other shortcut.

If you want the genuine article, you have to become the genuine article, or at least convince The Divine that it is your intention, because HE WILL begin to craft you, and it won’t be a painless affair. It’s one of the ways he has of weeding out the phonies.

It is intentionally made difficult here for those who believe in him. You have to remember what you are aspiring to. Distances in the windshield are much further than they appear. When you are looking back, they are closer. It’s some kind of cosmic distortion I hear.

As one passes through the stages of aging, it can become more and more difficult to avoid grabbing on to something, either for a sense of stability, or an effort at identity, cause we never really know who we are until we see God looking back in the mirror.

This is not possible so long as there is dust or smoke on the mirrors. It will always look distorted, just as this world does in comparison with the real world. When you go from the pure idea to the crystallized result, you lose authenticity, just as the water becomes less and less pure as it flows down the mountain. Of course, nothing I say here will be of any account in transmitting what this really means. You’ve heard the term, lost in translation? One might also say, lost in precipitation. If you want to see the ideal world, you have to go to the ideal world.

I might add, you also have to become ideal to pass through the barriers in the first place. The angel with the flaming sword is not a metaphor, but it is an allegory. It’s a tough act… for The Mind to get around the fact… that this is not the real world. It has everything invested in convincing you otherwise. Only a direct confrontation shows The Mind its real job, then… recognition is instantaneous. Next thing you know, you’re saying, Hello, old friend. Glad you found your way back.

Usually, when the Trends and Patterns I am seeing come around, the inevitable result is a series of mass extinction events, for reasons that are too transparent for me to need to itemize them. However, in this instance… some will go and some will stay, and some may translate into a higher state. We shall see.

Physical Israel is not Spiritual Israel. That’s where the confusion comes from. The people who invaded Palestine and are callously torturing and murdering the native inhabitants are the offspring of criminal warrior clans from Ukraine. They ARE NOT The People of The Book. This world is a distorted image that has descended through many reflections into an unrecognizable image. You only identify it as present because repetitive contact has made it familiar to you.

If you stop the process in The Mind that replicates imagery… after a time… your view of The World is going to be surprisingly different from what it is right now. Everything is a matter of patterning and programming. You can use the same processes on yourself that have been used on you by venal actors, and reverse the effects, and literally make yourself available for rewiring by Heaven’s electricians. Well, you wouldn’t even be doing any of that other stuff either. It comes down to sitting quietly in the barber chair or the bathtub, and pretending that you are enjoying it.

You can even watch the mirrors as they curve out of sight in the barber/beauty shop, and maybe get a basic idea about the structure of the universe. That’s what high art is intended for, and it is all descended from scripture, which is an even higher art. Scripture winds down into perception through the turning of The Spindle. It’s possible to get up close and watch it appear like a tapestry unraveling before you. It even has a soundtrack. Well… of course it does, it’s all woven out of vibration… through adaptations of sound from light, and… light from sound, and…

…one last thing.

End Transmission…….

Today’s Original Song is=

♫Here Comes The Sweet Death Angel♫ (it is amazing how often the song reflects the post)

And here is the most recent Feet 2 The Fire Broadcast.

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