Al Rodnam’s Prophecies,
According to [Episode II] of
MIKE EYE’S The Aqueous Transmission, a novel
[chapter ELEVEN]
AGE AFTER AGE, THE MILKY WAY GALAXY, UNDER TOP-SECRET control, became more and more distorted, as more and more incarnated souls caught within it got further and further away from their Origin, ultimately producing mass amnesia and perpetual violence among the masses.
Within the current incarnation of the planet Earth at this time in the story (which, it turns out, is literally a carbon copy of any other time on the planet due to the Curse of Lachrylon and Solaria), there was, as to be expected, an abundance of mostly oblivious life forms upon its surface, appearing in one instance as physical 3-D creatures that had evolved grotesquely defiled due to repetitive incest in tandem with highly fastidious conceptions, the Chosen of these creatures coming to exist with DNA chromosomes that paradoxically exemplified physically feminine and mentally left-brain-dominant traits, exclusively. These human entities, known as the Loombugs, disgraceful yet beloved daughters of the Mother as they so were, had existed together in Synchronization by a Collective Unconscious that sought to seek out its Higher existence chiefly by means of Ritual Bloodpig Feeding Sacrifice as well as the erroneous execution of devious Divinations of Runosophy.
Yes, Runosophy.
Runosophy that was reinforced religiously amongst the Loombugs on a daily and nightly basis by the Bry Dellows Hankerhawks.
There was a wayward star in the Milky Way for every Loombug that lived. This is why they all twinkled. And because of the Darkly vibrating frequencies now infesting the local airwaves of Earth, all of these repulsive, mostly mute creatures would come to all hold within their makeup several latent, non-functional strands of DNA that existed with the capacity to become assembled and activated by their person’s Consciousness through surreptitious Initiations. Unfortunately, approximately only One in twenty-five Loombugs were/was able to do this by understanding and practicing the teachings of the Hankerhawks, which were exemplified only through many personal unique experiences of supposedly sacred and vital tribal rituals in various instances simultaneously. That One rare and aware Loombug would then be ready for her Initiation into Hankerhawk-hood.
Becoming a Hankerhawk meant joining the elite sisterhood of their tribe which functioned exclusively as its own completely separate Collective Unconscious. It came to be synchronized with those unique left-brain-dominant females that were responsible for the presence of each Moon in the Milky Way belonging to a particular planet in a corresponding planetary rotation. Known as the Hankerhawks, these special Earthling-human-hybrid incarnations, each having fatefully inherited a recessive gene, were able to tap into a higher presence than the Loombugs.
Initially all being born into the tribes as Loombugs, the uniquely enhanced innate abilities these select few females were able to exemplify were usually noticed by their elders during the girls’ adolescent years, after which they customarily underwent mystery-school-type initiations to be formerly inducted into the Hankerhawk circles.
This rare, ferocious High Union devoted itself, not just to basic procreation, which it found essential, but also to the deliberate parasitic methods of a seek-and-destroy ideology, targeting the rare individual mystical male forces that would eventually each come to lay scattered separately upon the Earth, loaded with energy, shrouded in mystery. These peculiar tendencies were directly influenced by the cynical deeds of the extragalactic alien entities bent on Milky Way dominion and exploitation.
Each of the targeted elusory, sanctified mystics the Hankerhawks would come to hunt down — those beings known as the Godheds — were among the few fortunate wholly right-brain-dominant males who had felt an innate urge, and possessed a rare skill, not only to be able to appear physically upon the Earth, but to be able to escape their Mothers at a very young age, and succeeded in doing so, each able to corrode conformity by defying their ‘presumed destiny’ of becoming a Gilded Grunt.
Eventually, a few generations around the circle, it would become the Hankerhawks’ prime goal to seek out these Godheds, each of whom lived his own private life in blissful Solitude, somewhere on or in One version of Earth, and completely isolated from other human-hybrid creatures, aligning with his very own planet in the galaxy.
Hundreds of generations since the Tribal Regenesis rounded the cycle of trapped time, locked into a perfect artificially programmed precession, the doomed planet Earth spun and spun and spun on a severely warped, tilted axis. Toward climax of a full galactic precession of Dark, deceptive times which had Cum to dominate Forever, there would Cum to exist only One remaining Godhed nowhere to be found.
Practically since the inception of the current Age of Pisces, it was known all around that the Hankerhawks were equipped with the natural ability to completely dominate each Godhed, able to cradle them with their compelling Dark Light after they would craftily lure them into their trap, coming to utilize their own unique, precise formulas of Tracking they trained with, if only this could be executed. The major setback presented to these Hunters was that they were seemingly never able to accomplish this charge, the Godheds always keeping themselves exceptionally well-hidden, sometimes even (presenting themselves) as entirely invisible to the vicious women Hunters.
Capturing a Godhed would come to be each elite Hankerhawk’s prime goal of fulfilling their legendary, Divine Purpose of Existence.
Each Black Hole that appeared in the galaxy was a prototype for a corresponding Gilded Grunt upon Planet Earth, each of these despicable grunts being one of an unfortunate, exclusively right-brain-dominant male being who had been born gravely mentally retarded and disfigured, and lacking any sort of brilliance whatsoever. As part of what would become ritual sacrifice for the dominating women on Earth, as well as what would become an effort to control the population by means of the most extreme kind of gender selection, it would become customary in the civilization during the Age of Aquarius for a Hankerhawk to slaughter all males born into their tribe. But this would be, of course, after the Hawks would have harvested enough grunts for the jobs that needed to be done for the community, jobs that, if left untaken would not allow for a sustainable culture, as fucked-up and familiar a culture it may turn out to be.
As told in this tale, it would be during the first few generations of the new era that the most dominant Hankerhawk tribe half-alive on a post-apocalyptic Fucked-Earth would come to ceremonially castrate their tantrically-conceived newborn male “grunts” at birth, thus rendering them “gilded,” soon to be sent off on their lowly ways to then live lives of harsh enslavement.
It would be merely a few hundred years of generations along the path of the Aquatic Age henceforth, indeed in the course of its most vexing, ever-re-spawning End-Times, that the Mother and her twelve closest would be at the apex of their clandestine Hunt for the Last Godhed, Al Rodnam. Just as Al Rodnam always prophesized. And, yes, in systematic retaliation of how “the women” treated “the man” in this abject incarnation of a most fucked Planet Earth, the elusive Al Rodnam would ultimately be able to cunningly employ a method of mayhem to abruptly rip down the Earth’s terminal, sacrificing a part of himself up in the most ultimate way to the greater good for the sole purpose of keeping his Soul linked to Love, while mindfully procreating with purpose and vast foresight.
It was his vow to Lachrylon.
At long last, but covertly during a very specific moment chosen by the last remaining Godhed — in truth a precise moment in time arbitrary to anyone else alive at the time — it would indeed be the shady, attractive and youthful half of Al Rodnam who would finally be willing to submit to the taunts of Solaria’s essence, inevitably finding them excruciatingly insatiable. Yes, Al Rodnam, the very last Godhed to survive, would come to make Godamn sure that he, through his Shadow, Fletcher Munsin, would forcefully release his personally enhanced atomic seed into the womb of the Mother in order to finally bring down the perpetual Blood-Red Full Moon brought about by the despicable Mandorla, and thus likewise the whole of the land that the Mother and her top sisters sought to sow along with their mindless freaks of nature, the Loombugs and their lovable pets, the Blood Pigs.
It would soon be time for Fletcher Munsin to subconsciously summon the subtle, sacred sperm with his steady psyche, and fuse it together in space with ethereal partiki of the most widespread proportions. He would need to focalize this overpowering formula of supercharged nucleic acid and adrenaline to his Muladhara chakra, receiving full confirmation that his elixir of prominent fixture would not only reluctantly fuck the Mother, but relentlessly fuck her over.
The man was fully aware that with this striking shot of his Sanctified Seed into the Mother at that Divine Moment, made aware to him by noble Nammu of Europa, he was Sacrificing his Soul in exchange for the Conception of Mandorla.
Yes, it would be the wretched, morbidly disfigured Mandorla who would undoubtedly eternally continue to call upon the wizened, bushy-bearded deep-space voyager in order to save herself in the future.
At any rate, this Divine Act would bring the great guru Al Rodnam’s reincarnated self about Once again, nonetheless. For the next age. And the next. Except, each time slightly more enhanced than the previous time, having solely been able to Ascend his Soul during the apocalyptic annihilation and desecration that the fission of his Shadow Fletcher Munsin would no-doubt trigger to bring about downright destitution within the indigenous communities that would be destined to all ‘Cum to a Head’ on a specific future date calculated by an old guru by his mindful application of a simple, fixed algorithmic formula he had devised in his Head. The exponentially increasing stupidity rate among the tribes’ social structure that would fastly follow, despite all of Mother Magdalena’s “attempts to ‘keep things in line’,” would be guaranteed to be damn Damned Evermore.
Another of the old man’s prophecies.
In a flash of Divinity, an atomic ball of light emanating from the Moon would be shot toward the Earth like a fiery asteroid with immense amounts of kinetic energy. And, just as it hit the surface of the Earth to ignite a vast Apocalypse, nearly all of the entire galaxy’s supply of starlight would instantaneously burnout; every black hole would collapse unto itself. At the very end, the only radiance that would remain not to be observed by anyone from the surface of the Earth would be that of the Sun, and of a blood-stained Fucked-Earth’s Moon, which would then promptly be reset in time-space in order to allow for the exact same thing to occur for the following age trapped within this cynical cycle of terror.
Every time from now on, during this very last moment at the end of the epoch, the same intense, massive explosion would come to rattle the very center of the Earth. And as a mushroom cloud the size of eternity then everlastingly bellowed up from the entire circumference of the planet always directly following this fission, always gradually gaining the very same volume and Darkness each time as it would come to expand up-and-outward, the same huge fragments of terrain always blowing off the planet’s surface in several medium-sized colossal chunks as the Last Godhed to live on Earth Once again just barely dodged the destiny of combusting itself into the hyperspace of the Dark, deep cosmos for the interim. -MIKE EYE
DARK ESOTERIKA 
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