YOU MIGHT NOT FEEL IT BUT YOUR CHILDREN WILL.

By Les Visible

REFLECTIONS IN A PETRI DISH

January 07, 2012

Dog Poet Transmitting.......

May your noses always be cold and wet.

Where have we been; fast asleep in the belly of the beast, drunk on the digestive juices of Wall Street monsters, Israeli, vampire siphon machines; suck you up like a McDonald's milkshake baby.

If you can't handle the stink, stay out of the cistern.

The banker bully boys came here from Clockwork Orange, multitasking with motorcycle boots and attendant orgasms. These are the real cartels; the insatiable military and the corporate hounds, the government Sandusky kids and the bloodstained clowns from the Rothschild breakfast table, who keep making the rounds while confirming the kill. 

You may not feel it but your children will.

You may not feel it but your children will.

All over the planet the migration has begun, as the elementals go into action and climb out of their sleeping beds.

Nature is throwing off her chains and seething with rage at a handful of punks in three piece suits and the vast army of stupid and indifferent that made their job easy; that sat on the sidelines or carried the freight and abused friends and family with smoldering hate; yeah, that's just Love suppressed.

Thank god for allopathic, symptomatic compounds that make it possible to conceal what we are really feeling, to hide it under fronts of resentment and futile anger at those closest to us, while our cowardice and appetites put paid to the license granted to our oppressors.

Indifference to sunlight does not mute or alter its disinfectant quality. It's going to slip in to your dark, migraine evasive, bedrooms and find you anyway.

Ask yourself why your head hurts in the first place. If you don't turn your attention to the source of what is assaulting you, it has nowhere to go except to turn back upon yourself or those closest to you.

If you can't control your own mind, you can't control your behavior.

That makes you an uninformed servant of your own distress,

at the hands of those who get high being employed at it.

If you don't care who leads you then you probably don't care where you wind up, or simply have lost the capacity to add two and two, which, according to natural law, results in the arrival of a two by four, just to let you know that the cosmos can still count.

The hand of the cosmos is Nature in action and if you don't pay attention she'll put you in traction.

It's not personal, it's the business of the system that orders the degree of presence and performance that determines the itinerary.

“Good evening, I'll be your elevator operator; going down, or would you prefer to see a menu”?

You can think of your life as a Chinese restaurant; no substitutions. I know you were all about the concept of infinite choice.

That's how you got all that technology, gadgets and things that keep your mind off the approaching transition. 

It's a old story. 

It's happened before. 

Things just got out of hand and then were no more.

The news isn't good.

Good news doesn't sell. 

What did you expect besides resident Hell?

On Wal-mart, on Blackheart, Monsanto and Blitzen, on Vatican, Dupont and Kentucky Fried Chicken, the season is here, the spirit is missing.

Meanwhile... meanwhile, it's all about where it's okay to put your dick. It's all about celebrating the things that make you sick.

It's all about control and regimentation.

It's all reaction and the right to maim and kill.

You may not feel it but your children will.

How did it get like this?

How did life become such a drag?

Who shot up the hamster with amphetamine?

Who poisoned the well?

Who did it in Palestine?

Who's doing it now?

Who got together with the worst of us to come down on our heads?

Who put creed against creed and color against color?

Who's making the money from the carnage and ruin?

Who's selling you fear about people you don't even know?

Who did what got blamed on the people we bombed?

Who put a boogeyman under your bed?

Who made crime so attractive and armed the cartels?

Who made ordinary folk into dysfunctional trolls?

Who made the cops mean?

Who corrupted the priests?

Who made one big cluster-fuck nightmare

from Round-Up and Ready Whip?

Who taught you false history?

Who created the river of darkness that runs under the ship of state?

Who created god from a toilet and taught you to worship it?

Flush once for a wake-up and twice for a hair

from the bad dog that bit you and you're almost there.

You're almost there.

You probably don't feel it but your children don't care.

Nothing is what it seems. The reality of the misidentified is actually an expression of two interfacing spirals that have created a temporary 'no man's land' between them.

Think of an enduring period of false dawn or transformative dusk, a place where you can see shapes in movement but cannot accurately or even generically identify them.

This is a time of strange magnetisms, accompanied by the usual labels, no longer being meaningful.

In former times, people and things behaved according to the definitions they operated under. A conservative was usually a conservative and a liberal a liberal. This is no longer the case. As for the magnetisms, new attractive forces are presenting themselves and people are behaving under compulsions contrary to their basic nature; being overwhelmed by forces and conditions whose power comes about due to one's sense of self having deteriorated to the point that they no longer know who they are.

Voluntary and cooperative change assure a ready identification in transition. Forced and uncooperative change results in a partial or total destruction of the cognitive self in terms of their capacity to recognize the states into which they are being transported.

Imagine Rick Santorum on acid in an Indian temple; not a bad thing actually, provided he never goes back to being who he was and I don't even care if he can remember but... I digress.

People are all focused on external events and are missing the activation of the resonance of an entirely new atmosphere of being.

People are paranoid about what's coming and unaware of whom it is that it might happen to.

People are finding that the need of their appetites increase, in advance of the arrival of a time in which they can no longer satisfy them. This accounts for one of the spirals.

“Your job, should you choose to accept it”, is to figure out what's going on in the other spiral.

“Remember, if you or any of your team are captured, we will disavow any knowledge of” you’re not having cared enough to become invisible to the suck holes, seeking to swallow you up in an entropic slumber; not everyone gets to be, or wants to be-come a fly trapped in amber but we do have a larger list of candidates than in previous years.

The whole thing is about fear and uncertainty. 

It paralyzes you.

It turns you into a deer in the headlights.

You've made the men in the shadows powerful because your fear is the Viagra that inspires their abuse.

You won't collect and congregate with your fellows, so they will pick you off one by one and put you in jumpsuits with single digit numbers on them.

You seem incapable of stepping away from the levers and buttons of your own destruction. The last thing you will see is your fingerprint holographically shimmering over the words, “Fuck me, I'm a fool” on the press panel you thought was going to open the door to some brothel in your head.

Everyone gets challenged about whether they care about what happens to the people around them.

It's set up that way.

Everyone is worried what the devil's going to think.

You don't want to piss him off and make him angry.

The result of that is even worse than you think.

Meanwhile you want to stay away from that crazy guy who's talking to himself.

Just because you've been deaf for the last twenty years you think he's all alone. Just like it is in the Six Kinds of Shit Amusement Park of usual life, it's not what you know, it's who you know and true light casts no shadows nor entertains them at his house.

You want to be afraid of someone who hates you? You think your fear is some kind of a way out? Is that how it worked out on the playground? Did it get you into Yale?

Sure some are born to serve the darkness and they got certain schools for that but... if you're not 'chosen' for it they will sniff you out. One needs to understand how the darkness operates in order to command what lives in the deep.

Were you put here to be a dung beetle just so you could climb to the top of the heap?

You have to know what you actually are.

Good or evil is not the point.

Self identification is the point.

All these people going the wrong way have created a tailwind and a slipstream.

Are you a Volkswagen behind a double lorry?

Are you a high born creation going in reverse?

First you must overcome fear.

Then you have to walk in the empty lands.

Then you have to make a connection or you will die by your own hand.

It's all suicide after all.

It's okay to be the bad guy if that IS what you ARE but if you're not Old Scratch can smell you and he'll tell his people what's going on.

That's what you get for trying to fit in when you could be long gone. Better tend to that itch and use it like a generator on a bicycle at night.

If you're not in movement you can use it to turn on the lights in your head.

Yes, there's been point and motive all through this poor address.

You can't say these things directly, it's peripheral at best. You can accommodate your injury till you can't even feel a thing. This is how it gets for people who hurt others once their sensitivity is dead.

The sins of the initiator send their children into time and they all show up together further down the line.

End Transmission.......