☆ 16. Head Hankerhawk Reflections of the Andromeda Biodome Truth Revelation : The End-times End Now

Head Hankerhawk Reflections of the Andromeda Biodome Truth Revelation : The End-times End Now

 

Episode Four / Chapter 16 of Mike Eye’s The Aqueous Transmission

 

– Story Snippet #5 for Dark Esoterika –

 

THE GODHEDS WERE THE FEW OF THE SHAMANIC FOREFATHERS WHO had helped breed the tribes from their Inception and had cunningly escaped from the villages long ago. Over time, most of the Godheds had mysteriously vanished, and it had grown increasingly more difficult for the Hankerhawks to locate them. From time to time, the Hawks would go on extensive treks across the wastelands of Fucked-Earth with fierce phallic weapons in search of any Godheds they could find. But each time they set out, the Hawks were never able to find even One, for the Godheds were experts at remaining concealed from the Hankerhawks.

Down upon the surface of the Earth at this time, the Hankerhawks of other villages besides the Mother’s Home of Bry Dellows, were now Awakening as well, and activating their Visuddha Chakras with no delay as they chanted with mighty mantras of High Intention.

In all the villages, not that there were many, the Hankerhawks and their dumb Lower sisters, the Loombugs, had customarily always lived together in a sort of congenial disparity. The Hawks, being much more intelligent than the Bugs thanks to their genes, would ‘spend’ their days absorbed with whatever it was they were doing, existing apart from the Bugs whenever they weren’t teaching them useless things, or participating in corrupted Runic Divinations with them. Among the few uncivilized tribes on Fucked-Earth, it was the Hive-minded Hankerhawks alone who perpetually, yet usually unknowingly, possessed an archaic Knowledge that, Once purposefully un-tapped, would allow them, as a unified entity, access to the sacred Vision that could preserve their Spirit upon their sacred planet Earth, from which they had always been attached.

Customarily, it was only One in roughly twenty-five Loombugs that was noticed and then Chosen by the Head Hankerhawks to undergo an Initiation that could potentially credit her with a very valuable upgraded distinction, assuming her emotional, bio-neurological makeup was compatible; it was afterall only about 8% of the Loombug girls from all tribes combined that were born without substantial physical deformation and mental retardation, able to relate in any way to the Hankerhawks’ complex mentality. With such a familial social promotion, it would then become possible for a newly ordained Hankerhawk to attune herself to a higher essence, as she would routinely start to involve herself with the sacred chants and ritualistic dances that were the consecrated customs of her elders — the sacred, rhythmic maneuvers they used to connect to their counterparts in the cosmos. The newly-initiated young Hawks would routinely receive sacred teachings from their mothers that would ultimately allow them intimate access to their plentiful, latent “junk” DNA strands as well as stimulate dormant portions of the personal grey matter of their brains.

By tradition, the ensuing arousal of Awareness received by a newly ordained Hankerhawk, though not nearly as potent as the power currently surging through the Cube of Metatron, would then routinely shine light upon a deplorable potential future with a communal lack of any basic sense of direction, the assertion of a collective unconscious simultaneously summoning forth subliminally a severely warped, vastly confined global polarization; the Hawks were the only Ones besides the Godheds who would eventually Know the true secret of Solaria and all the details of the extraterrestrial interference, and their perpetually be-doomed indigenous communities.

Other than the sacred quests for a Godhed that the Hawks would every-so-often come to embark upon unsuccessfully until now — this current Divine moment — the main purpose of the Hawks’ existence, according to the all-powerful Solaria, was to procreate as rapidly as possible no matter what the circumstances, as they continued to spread their Divinely inspired dogmatic ideology to all their countless Loombug daughters, assuring that they would all have as many children as possible via the particular method that was used in their villages. There were many Loombugs who were not able to get pregnant. As such, the Bugs would be kept continuously distracted and locked hopelessly within their own minds via semi-Divine fallacious invocations of precisely placed stone Runes and strokes of swine.

It was what Solaria demanded.

In procreating to the obsessive utmost, when able to do so throughout their lifetimes, insatiably abusing the flesh, the Hankerhawks routinely taught their initiates to either enslave or drown the “accident” male newborns in the extra-salty ocean, and save only the females. The Hankerhawks perpetuated that it was to be determined only by ‘the powers that be’ whether these wretched, human-hybrid monstrosities known as the Loombugs would be at a sufficient population by the end of time for proper astrological sacrifice. If so, it would be the Souls of the few Hankerhawks that would simultaneously gain memory of their own astrological orientation, thus providing them all with a sense of their ultimate purpose.

That’s how supernovae are formed.

 

 

This is precisely what was now transpiring among the dutifully deformed women of the wild tribes upon Fucked-Earth.

The End was fast approaching. The Mother and the twelve Hankerhawks closest to her would soon reclaim their fate, thus coming to find Once again that they were perpetually predestined to proclaim prophecy from a prison planet by entering the corridors of their correlation to the Unified Field, these very cosmological corridors from which they now collectively found themselves in — as the looming Cube of Metatron — and equipped with the codes that would evidently lead the sanctified womanly conjunction directly to the Last Godhed, Al Rodnam. Or, at least, to whom they imagined to be the Last Godhed, Al Rodnam.

During these final moments, the Loombugs were feeling more confused than usual which caused a huge boost of anxiety to the greater part of the tribes that were already quite wild to begin with. The Bugs scrambled about restlessly, utterly unnerved and oblivious upon a soon-to-be obliterated planet, as the bitterly gleaming Metatron’s Cube that was maneuvered by the Mother returned from Andromeda and approached its precious, long-awaited destination of destiny. The Loombugs could not feel the potent, compassionate energies emanating from Gaia at this time, because they hadn’t been taught to, not to mention it wasn’t in their makeup to be able to do, and so alas they would not be able to realize that they remained infinitely and intimately linked to Her. As if it mattered to them anyhow.

The more Loombugs alive during this moment in the false precession of the equinoxes, the easier it would be for the foreign controlling Dark energies of Lachrylon and Lachrylon’s furious phantom follower ETs that comprised Lachrylon’s militia constituents to manipulate the bodies of the Bugs in future Earthly incarnations, which the Dark powers would then, in all likelihood, covertly use in all sorts of clever, unethical ways to help them gain ultimate control of the Inner Earth Stargates.

“Location, Location, Location.” 

Yes, the Loombugs’ very existence, in fact, was to function biologically as virtually mindless collateral, each day of their lives unknowingly “living down” all One-percent of their One-dimensional human-hybrid potential. And it would very soon be proven that they had indeed been cursed to live only mundane, insignificant lives of limitation, lives that were about to end disgracefully with a most bizarre obliteration.
Perhaps interestingly enough, throughout their lifetimes, the Loombugs had always been told by their elders, the deceptive Hankerhawks, that this gruesome fate of mass genocide and environmental annihilation was to One-day be joyously had, not by them, but by the enslaved village outcasts, the Gilded Grunts.

Not so.

This was before the Hawks’ Enlightenment. The Grunts would in fact be saved. The Bugs, however, would not be able to, as One fundamental quantum spark of Eternal Truth, come to comprehend the severe dysfunction of their lifestyle, like they would have if they were destined to be Hankerhawks and additional strands of their DNA had been assembled and activated. Unlike their Hawk elders, the Loombugs would not come to realize their artificial alignment to the constellation of Aquarius that so beckoned them, which would help to set them free. For all intents and purposes, they would not realize that they each had a Soul.

But all the Hankerhawks did now finally presently feel the Wicked energies converging during this space-time. Like awaking from a twisted dream a lifetime long, the Hawks blurrily became aware of why their lives had seemed to be so unfulfilling, and so were united with a sharp sense of embarrassment. They caught vivid visions of their well-oiled greedy ways functioning highly favorably… but only for a short while until the concept collapsed upon itself, eventually coming to mock its expediency with inevitable total devastation.

But this was their nature. And the concept was about to collapse upon itself.

All the Hankerhawks of Bry Dellows and beyond each realized plainly now, all simultaneously, exactly why their own minds had always been filled with looming visions of false dogmatic constructs since Day One: these were paradigms tremendously addicting in their advancements, and provided only immediate benefit, with no long-term outcome whatsoever. These concepts were eternally encoded, all the Hawks now also realized so plainly, when found present in social organizations, to naturally result in a global system that would have a Collective Unconscious that places the illusion of material profits from questionable discourse at a much higher priority than the fragile sustainability of the Pure Mind and Environment, a poor perspective derived from greedy ambitions they now saw themselves acquiring throughout insignificant lifetimes via holographic, crystalline projections that clashed completely in confounding conflict with the erratic psychelectromagnetic planetary gridlines that were now straightening out rapidly.

Preposterously, they wondered for the first time if they were indeed any ‘better’ than their Loombugs. 

This terrified them.

They came to recognize, too, that these grids had spawned, throughout their lifetime on Earth, reflectively as a result of the brute power of their persistent, ruthless intentions. This Corporate Globalization would be ultimately unavoidable in their culture, they realized, with the facades of quantity eventually devouring the facets of quality.

In accordance with the End-Times, the Enlightened Mother-Hawk-orb-cube amalgamation, shimmering in the sky with prominent earnest, back in the Earth’s atmosphere now and not too far off from its target, was collectively envisioning the very essence of whom they now sought. Depicted in their joint enigmatic vision was a huge, fiery comet, coasting at an incredibly high velocity across the sky and into the heart of Mother Gaia, promptly spawning the ignition of everything on the planet with its ever-potent fuel of desire that had been carefully formulated by the Mother’s intentions with Fletcher Munsin, who was indeed not the Last Godhed on the planet, but the last Godhed’s Shadow.

At that same moment, the Hankerhawks also then became aware of exactly why it had been so difficult for them to locate any Godheds throughout their lifetimes. Just as vividly, they now also understood exactly why their tribes hadn’t been able to advance their antiquated cultures technologically for an over-elongated period of time, though the Hawks had managed to be able to raise populations fairly high in certain villages due to their prized provisions of jarred Godhed Sperm, and their vigilant, Tantric uses of those sacred rations.

Eventually, males stopped being born into the tribes altogether, the tribeswomen no longer needing to slaughter any newborns as they started to gain a grasp on their perverse practice of gender population control. The High Hawks that were part of the Metatron’s Cube now also peculiarly saw through crystal-clearly to the ultimate inner mechanics of their heavily ritualized social behaviors they exemplified throughout their lifetimes up unto this point; they realized that the traditional, supposedly beneficial and otherwise seemingly mindless, volatile behaviors exemplified within their simple communities, such as the exploitation of their corrupt elitism as well as the gluttonous possession to fuck men (when they would or could) and to procreate humanity with suffering in mind, were actually suppressed acts carried out by their subconscious efforts to enhance their sense of misdirection along the faulty global psychelectromagnetic fields of Earth that they secretly enjoyed living within.

This was the Spell of Solaria. And the invisible Earth-intruder ETs always Knew this.

But, attributing to the True Evil of their combined Essence, the Thirteen most elite Hankerhawks hailing from Bry Dellows, after receiving these Visions, did not recognize their social endeavors as one tad corrupt. Instead, the top Hawks saw in an instant what their lifelong actions had ultimately created; they became everlastingly mindful of the manners with which a conscious sense of direction asserts itself loudly upon a group of perceptible people.

The life and times of all the horrific beings living disproportionately with the Earth were coming to a standstill, enveloped within the prospects of a crack in the window through time, propelling them on into the next age. The top Hawks now saw this. They saw, too, its result: a time of remembrance, a brutal boiling blood battle for achieving One Lust, with every Body and Mind being offered the opportunity to engage the Individual Imagination instantaneously and indefinitely, in full physical effect – the very corrupt initiative of elite Illuminati factions upon many planets in various galaxies bent on external conquest.

Having been fused into the Cube of Metatron, the thought-forms and spirits of the elite sisters had struck a singular resonant tone illuminating their interconnected Oversoul Identity that made them all simultaneously, telepathically Aware that this was their final artful display of purpose; this was as far as they would be able to go in procreating humanity as much and as wretchedly as possible, as commanded by the almighty Solaria on most High.

From its position in the sky at the edge of Bry Dellows, Magdalena could see massive amounts of badlands totally unpopulated.

“Weak,” a disappointed Lina thought to herself, shimmering with her twelve closest in the Metatronic orb-cube formation in the sky. “We coulda done way better than this, girls.” Her sisters, feeling all too well her resentment, enthusiastically concurred.

From the newly established viewpoints of the elite Hankerhawks of Bry Dellows, the only advanced civilization worth building, they came to realize naturally, was one consciously constructed completely out of Unconditional Love and pure Crystals and Water; an androgynous, universal implementation of the Divine Blueprint of benevolent actuality that held the same spiritual form as the original Earth and the Angelic Human Body.

But the Hankerhawks and those of their ET-infiltrated tribes of revolting incest were Wicked women indeed, and they resolutely rejected the power of Love in favor of their innate power to intricately illustrate the sheer intensity and tremendous dominance of sexual temptation, merrily employing their crafty ability to covertly invoke vicious deceit upon their biological male counterparts while gaining Intense Highs in the Process.

That is, whenever they were ultimately able to locate them.

This ideology, supposedly ingrained within the Hawks’ True Nature by Solaria, had, over time, evolved to become an essential element of their chemical makeup.
The Hankerhawks were not just territorial. They were obsessively possessive.
Even without any type of real civilization or established democracy present in this—the Mother Magdalena’s—wretched incarnation of Planet Earth during this Dark, Dark Age, Materialism still reigned supreme because it was its time in succession to do so. The major problems the territorial indigenous female tribes had been faced with, as a devolving culture, were what had eventually resulted from their Denial to live peacefully and amicably with the Earth.

All of the overpopulated Loombugs did not require vast vegetation around them, not just because they spent a great deal of their lives absorbed in the distraction of simple dusty, dull Divinations, but also because their bodies were considerably deformed compared to better hydrated species of humanoids not born of incest and carelessness, and were made up of far less Water than the ideally evolved human of an industrialized civilization upon an Earth-like planet. 

The Hawks thus did not require a great amount of Water to nourish their bodies either; Water from the Single Ocean of this version of Earth was far, far less, and had been reincarnated this time around with minimal sustenance anyhow, its landmasses greatly prevalent over its body of Water, with much of these landmasses barren wastelands of dark, ashy sand and the disintegrated remains of radioactive junk blown into the mix by the heavy winds that tended to frequently blow themselves about the wide stretch of the vast Fucked-Earth desert environments.

Coronal Mass Ejections from the Sun as well as from other large local stars were also something for the Hawks to lookout for, too, throughout their lifetimes, as various stars, their systems, as well as their inhabitants continued to be bio-neurologically manipulated by One or more Highly advanced alien intruders of a Higher density universe, etheric beings who were part of the hierarchy of Solaria and Lachrylon’s Highly advanced infantry of brutal, brutal Evil.

The severely physically deformed, yet Highly functional Gilded Grunts who routinely traversed through these badlands day by day always passed by random, wrecked objects, never able to possibly Imagine what these things had Once functioned as, if indeed the Grunts were even able to pose such questions to anyone who may’ve been there.

The Gilded Grunts, like the Loombugs, would be, and had been, completely oblivious to the ever-powerful, Dark High Energies that flowed throughout planet Earth, even as they continued to be the very Source powering it, continuously hauling along Space-Grain from the Andromeda Biodome, through the portal to the pig pens.
And now, the orb-cube of elite Hawks, hovering in the sky just above the area of Earth where their target lay waiting, was conjointly premeditating the last game. Magdalena was playing out the sacred seduction in her mind, consciously very much aware of her ultimate purpose of providing profuse procreation for the New World at any cost. Strong sexual instincts crept up the spines of the flying, illuminated women, as her and her top sisters altogether envisioned what they had always planned on doing subsequent to them finally locating the very Last Godhed.

These Hawks knew all too well how they would tempt the Godhed ‘til “King-dumb Cum,” these sassiest of sirens to seize the Soul of whom they sought by singing to him sweet songs of seduction, aspiring to sway the susceptible Spirit of their subject into suggestive submission, their sick, slutty selves soon succumbing to the sly, sacred sex they would so certainly savor serving to the symptoms of sin while seeking to send signs to their psyches that it would be their special skills that would save all their sisters, and see to their survival.

The addition of not just any individual, but an exceptionally extraordinary, Enlightened Individual to the top Hawk orb-cube formation of twelve, is what had always been needed to shape the definitive “whole” of such a very group of tenacious female Hunters, who would then each altogether prove to be much greater than the sum of all the group’s parts.

This was a critical component in the secret condition the special orb-cube required to reach its goal of locating the Last Godhed. The orb-cube also needed, of course, the Gathering of the Twelve Elite Hankerhawks of Bry Dellows in addition to the exclusive command and High Presence of the Mother Magdalena, for it was none other than this precise conjunction of these counterparts which did indeed create the very Metatron’s Cube to begin with.

And so after having received sharply a mental image of the Andromeda Biodome during the very instance noble Nammu of Europa entered the aligned Immortal Earth’s South Pole Homeland, the Mother had so felt intuitively inclined to immediately form the orb-cube with the twelve of her closest elite members. This magic orb-cube came to create a revelation-bound Metatron’s Cube of pure luminosity: this was the definitive formation of universal consciousness consisting of all five platonic solids everlastingly pulsating at its core with supercharged, ultra-high-frequency harmonic vibrations. Each top Hawk represented one of the twelve circles of this sacred geometrical shape, as pure liquid-light, pure consciousness aware, naturally composing the secret Fruit of Life found inside, with Mother Magdalena at the helm in the very center.

Twinkling in the Earth’s atmosphere now, still halted in pre-meditations of the impending occurrence, the Mother’s Metatronic amalgamation came to be greeted by, at first by the hundreds of thousands, and then by the millions of billions, its high-density light-sister Oversouls, forcefully appearing in the vicinity as if to colorfully suggest their approval of what the sisters were about to do. These High ancestors were now dancing beautifully and systematically into waves of vivid multicolored aurorae around the orb-cube’s location in the sky, like super-heated, vibrant neon corn kernels that popped out with a sacred release from within the deep hyperspace of Intergalactica, the subtle, laser-like fireworks display it came to create melting into sizzling stardust of the ultra-fluorescent particles of ‘God thread’ that annunciated altogether through their Vishuddha chakras the revered resonance of the Mother’s path of prophecy. Yes, this was their destination. Mother Magdalena was feeling more alive and sure of herself than ever before. Or at least as far as she could remember.

Oh, it was an incredibly exhilarating High!

With time then coming to freeze in an instant, the Mother smiled to herself and remembered this ecstatic moment Once again, realizing in the next flash of Unholy illustration that it had been an incredibly, unexplainably long amount of time since she had felt this way. Mother Magdalena was in fact feeling the heavy loom of Ages encircling her ultra-electrical ether.

Cleverly, unbeknownst to anyone or anything, save the Consciousness of noble Nammu of Europa, the supercharged metaphysical Heart of the Last Godhed on Earth was actually concealed in a thickly secluded part of a version of Earth that existed in its own time continuum, far, far away from the Cube of Metatron that hovered just above the staunchy, spoiled atmosphere of Fucked-Earth. The Last Godhead was safely secluded within the hot tropics of Immortal Earth’s South Pole Homeland, and was remaining there motionless for to save his grace. This Last Godhed was the illustrious Al Rodnam who lay peacefully positioned in the pious posture of the lofty lotus, upon moist soil, nearby a smoothly flowing stream that gently spouted his Hallowed desires incessantly into a modest pond that separated a small passing river. This was the very pond little Nammu of Europa had recently splashed into. And after a short, mind-settling ritual upon the pond’s floor, it was the intelligent little dolphin, Nammu, who would give the Word to the old Godhed Mystic when it was time.

Not much longer now.

The man remained concealed by evergreen wisps of giant palm leaves, behind lush brush, vigilantly Third-Eyeing the chaos that was erupting in the failing world before him, his in-tune Sahasrara chakra tapping into the sucking vortex of the Earth’s crown.

There was a very specific reason for Al Rodnam’s remaining Left Behind.

Feeling the power of a pole-shift imminent, the Last Godhed was busy constellating a colorful interdimensional rainbow mind-bridge with his supremely powerful magic. Having aligned itself with the glowing Thirteen-piece archangel’s recent revelation about the outerspace Biodome of Andromeda, he found himself ever-present and totally aware of Mother Magdalena’s Metatronic path of prophecy being activated.
The man had recently summoned forth his inverse, parallel duality to appear at the edge of Bry Dellows, enabling the duality’s enforced intent for the Mother Magdalena’s Heart to be amplified to a degree at which it would be able to reach the Mother however faraway she was. Al Rodnam mindfully aligned the power of his duality’s enforced intent specifically along the very psychedelic wavelength of the Mother’s Merkaba.

The kindly guru patiently waited for the Oversoul Consciousness of the Mother’s Wicked Cube of Metatron to completely finish being stimulated by the Truth of the recognition of its own Andromeda Biodome Truth Revelation before pulsing out the astral projection.

The Mother, having been in charmed form with her twelve closest during this covert conjuring of persuasion, came into contact with the old man’s thought projections the moment she and her sisters jointly remembered, from within Earth’s atmosphere, the Truth of why they had crafted such a wondrous outpost in another galaxy; it first took actually seeing it with their conjoined Unified Eye, and then reflecting on it from Earth afterwards, for the Mother and her twelve High Sisters to altogether receive the full benefit of their sacred revelation.

Bry Dellows was Mother Magdalena’s Home, and by far the largest of the Hankerhawk villages. At present, there were a great deal of Loombug brawls busting out there. It was now time for the Holy Al Rodnam, Al Rodnam now decided, to sacrifice half of his essence to the hungriest of Hankerhawks, the Head of them all: the ever-familiar, sinister, yet solemn, Mother Fucker. Axis of Metatron’s Cube.

From deep within crisp, lush jungle sat the great guru in deep Contemplation, deep inside the process of his astral projection. Holding the form of his duality firmly in a lotus posture at the edge of the dusty Bry Dellows, the illustrious Al Rodnam, as his duality’s own Shadow, sat patiently awaiting the arrival of the nearby equally illustrious Cube of Metatron, a point at which the near sights of the female formation would latch onto him and descend.

“WHAT THE F☆@# HAPPENS IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE FEMALE FORMATION LATCHES ONTO HIM AND DECENDS??!!?” -MIKE EYE