Awakening In Agartha

 

 

art-hr giger-01Chapter 7

Fletcher Munsin’s eyes flew open, and he just laid there on his back from within the metal machine in a state of confused shock, his swirling blurred vision slowly straightening out around the breadth of his Awakening intro-spectacles. The transparent cover of the machine he was in had been left off, and when the man— now Birthing at the pre-fixed ripe age of 33— gained consciousness he shakily began lifting his upper body arise, altogether experiencing for the first time an intense sense of familiarity, shame, and fear as he did so. Those feelings would stay with him endearingly throughout his lifetime. He somehow instinctively knew to then proceed removing the thick tubes jutting out of his back at each chakra point that were attached to the inside of the machine, ripping them out one-by-one from the base upwards, as he Birthed out a new Body that was part-Human, part-Sirian, and part-Divine: the Holy manifest Shadow of Al Rodnam Delivered into live physical form.

Other than Dark autonomous emotions, Fletcher Munsin possessed no memory or recognition of much of anything besides the Knowledge of the English language. He was partly shaken the moment he recognized the super-energized Solar Logos circuits emanating fiercely in pulses from a small slightly yellowish-glowing tree branch that was sitting on a flat surface beside the metal machine. He steadily arose, shaking slightly, taking his time to reach for the little glowing tree branch, knowing intuitively the size of its worth as he could feel its energy amplify more and more intensely with his approach.

platonic-solid-sacred-geometryHe stumbled seven times but soon had the sacred Wood in his right fist and could feel it surging with beaming Super-Solar Wyrd Power. He had just been born but he could already make the mental connection between words and solar energy, and this Wood in his grasp was emanating the perfect union of the two. A wide self-assured grin spread across the handsome face of Fletcher Munsin as he felt the power of this energy humming from its core, recognizing a Language he felt impossibly used to, and he Knew it was because he had somehow Spoken these same Words before. Not aloud, of course, for Fletcher Munsin, for all his grasp on the grammar and phonetics of the English language, seldom Spoke a Word; almost everyone he’s ever known thinks he’s a Mute. It was and will be the same for each of his Incarnations and multiplicities.

Befittingly, it was immediately subsequent to this revelation that Fletcher Munsin noticed the twinkling words floating in a holographic display above the nearby main console of the bunker’s central computer. He stumbled over to them and began reading the floating message with a swelling curiosity:

 

My Child,
My name is Al Rodnam. I both, created you, and are you, at the same time. Call me Father if you like, but that is not what I am to You. My Higher nature encompasses many humanoid Sirian-hybrid beings across many galaxies. You are One of them. The Stargate in front of you leads to One of the Sirius Sectors, and your body is biologically capable of passing through it successfully. Go there to explore where your Soul came from, if you choose, but, beyond the metal door behind you lies a magical, mystical wonderland of true beauty and bliss. It is Agartha, the Inner-Urth, and it is filled with jungles having tropics that couldn’t exist upon its counterpart land: Surface-Urth, the world Above, that is really Below.

 

Reflectively, those Above call this Inner-Urth the Underworld. It is filled with many marvelous mythical creatures of lore, all of which are real and most of which are amiable. But none of which are like You. Human. Except One other that ventures down to this Kingdom from time-to-time with a mysterious High serpent creature, to the magical Pond of Breña, the actual, real Fountain of Youth. She will persuade You to go with her to Surface-Urth, but You must not go with her. If You do, She and Her brethren will fool you into a sick game, torture You, and eventually, Kill You. You must trust me, for You are me.

 

One last thing. I must tell You that I am truly sorry I wasn’t there for your Awakening, and am even more sorry that I won’t be able to join You for several years, unless of course You choose to go up to Surface-Urth with the Lady Magdalena, of which you must not do, in which case, you and I are likely never to meet Face-to-Face. I know you’ll take care of us. ˜Signed, Al Rodnam of Sirius and Urth.

 

It took several long minutes for the gravity of the message’s contents to settle down upon Fletcher Munsin. Unbeknownst to him, for each minute he contemplated, indeed for every minute that went by on Inner-Earth, about a week and a half will have passed up on Surface-Earth; Fletcher Munsin would remain unaware that the passage and keeping of time on Agartha took a far slower pace than its inside-out counterpart.

0588452f9d70e8904107f4834b3c92e8It made no sense to him. He felt angry and addled. Despite his pre-loaded age and Knowledge, Fletcher Munsin was just as naïve about undergoing the Birthing process and its aftermath as any baby being born might be, yet equipped with Insight, and it was overwhelmingly impossible for him to understand what the Hell was really going on, in and around him. Still, just minutes into his new life, the man already had enough wit to ask himself: is this how all humans were born? To wake up cold and alone, plugged to a metal machine in a small place, with all kinds of unrecognizable computer processing equipment strewn about? Do all humans look like me? Are there others similar to me Awakening in the same fashion? If so, how many? Thousands of questions wracked his mind all at Once at an impossible velocity.

But then Fletcher Munsin set his thinking very pensively on his Identity. This “Al Rodnam” had written that he— indeed both he and himself— were Human and Sirian, whatever that meant exactly. His head turned and glared at the massive rune-inscribed stone ring Stargate at the head of the room. A Stargate to Sirius, supposedly. Go there to explore where your Soul came from, the message had read. And I’m supposed to do it alone without any guidance? the man responded to himself silently in resentment and awe. The message said I would have to wait years for you to show yourself. How long is a year? he wondered cluelessly, indeed not having lived yet an hour. Of course, he knew the answer to that question technically speaking— he just had no idea what it meant. Although feeling frightened and insulted that his alleged creator wasn’t there to greet him into the world, and supposedly wouldn’t show for some time, however long of a time it might be, Fletcher Munsin’s body bubbled up with immense excitement as he envisioned what it might be like to travel to his place of origin and discover who he really was.

2a4062c2abb89da5ed1d682dcaa225e9--the-rabbit-rabbit-holeBut Fletcher Munsin also thought of where he currently was. Wow. A happy, magical place, supposedly, just beyond his here birth chamber. Jungles filled with all sorts of exotic creatures. With a Fountain of Youth somewhere— that intrigued him, though he remained young himself. He was also curious about who this Lady Magdalena was. How is it that this alleged creator of mine, this Al Rodnam, claims to know my future? he wondered. Is he me from the future? No— the message had said Al Rodnam had a “higher nature.” But that he was also me. Hmm… The man remained puzzled and frustrated as he tried to process everything that was happening to him. Emotions were strung high, and it Hurt.

As he was considering many different things at once, the man caught sight of what appeared to be a roll of fuzzy grey robes, neatly folded over the arm of a leather couch close-by. He went to retrieve them, and though he grasped the robes in his hands, he could not make out the material. Instinctively, Fletcher Munsin slipped them about his naked frame regardless, tying them together with an attached cord. He noticed right away how mega-soft the robes were and he smiled the first smile of pure contentment in his Life. He also noticed what he wouldn’t recognize to be a pocket knife inside one of the inner-pockets.

acasadodespertartszThen he glanced back at the Gate. Despite how immensely he wanted to travel to his home space sector and investigate his origins, the wondrous appeal of the magical Inner-Earth and its friendly inhabitants dominated his immediate curiosity. I suppose I can always return to this Gated shelter in the future after I’m done exploring the jungles out there, he thought to himself. All I would need to do is mark my passage in the trees along the way somehow, and if good fortune follows me I should be able to find my way back.

So, after retrieving the glowing branch as well as a small hollow gourd laced with a raw-hide strap that had a “Drink Me” label on it, Fletcher Munsin inched his way to the back of the room and up a small flight of stairs, coming to stand still in front of a massive dully-glinting metal door with a retractable top and hefty chain-link threads on either side. On the reinforced wall to the right of the door was a small slightly glowing blue circle in the center of a rectangular pad. Fletcher Munsin reached for the panel and felt around, eventually coming to place one of his fingers directly over the center of the darkly-gleaming blue circle. As he did so, his chest jumped at the sound of a high echoey pop from the ceiling above where he stood, and as he moved his head upward, so went the door, clanking loudly along a treaded frame as it rose upward. The man stepped back, shielding his eyes with his arm at the piercing gleam that shot in through the door from without, the light reacting fiercely with the peculiar twig of magic Wood that lay pocketed within his robes. The light brought a pleasant, dry warmth into the bunker, and Fletcher Munsin, with his arm still over his eyes, eagerly stepped lightly out the door into the rays of a Central Sun, Amrita’s Sun: Alcyone of the Pleides, High Radiant Essence of Solaria and Her Solar Logos.

Fletcher Munsin had made the correct decision to explore this realm first. He convinced himself as much right away if but only because of how amazingly fresh, cool, and clear the air tasted to him. How clean and crisp, he marveled. The intense gleam of the Central Sun he had seen pour into the Stargate Bunker as he stood inside it had totally diminished now that he was outside in it, and his new vision saw a vibrant foreign wilderness on a clear day, with an unbothersome high visibility. He seemed to be getting High off the air, which started to swirl with hues of assorted rainbow shades at varying points of space he saw spread out in the immediate vicinity. The manifest oxymoron himself, this newborn-man, was beholding his first breathtaking panorama of pure “garden-family” ecstasy. He saw nature working perfectly and acquired a perspective of appreciation for the beauty of that nature as he viewed strong diverse signs of it everywhere before him.

 

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The foreground and background both were splattered with every shade of green that existed in the light spectrum, and more, glittering with tinsel-flashes of Sunlight reflection off the epic trees everywhere, whose layers of green blanketed the high tops of the forest canopy in a lush wash of comfort and cool breezes. Monster tree stumps ten-feet wide ripped out of the Earth everywhere Fletcher Munsin could see, and extended upward hundreds of feet. Many different kinds of small animals were hobbling and fluttering and twinkling all around him, and he could feel each one’s energy signatures as different songs being sung to the trees and animals all around them.

He kept on an aimless amble, sure to tie strips of his robes to branches with the pocketknife, and soon came upon a couple of creatures who started singing their songs to him. They appeared to him at first to be two small grazing white ponies, but realized as he got nearer that they were something more. He reached out telepathically, as is his nature, and felt traces of true love serum in the air, having not a clue as to what love serum was or the destructive forces it held. The little creatures were inquisitive and welcoming, remaining still and calm in relaxed positions, fidgeting periodically to enthusiastically lick their furry tails.
“Greetings,” one of them sung telepathically to the man as he approached the two. Its nose was snow-white like its fur, small and wrinkly as it inquired behind two innocent eyes that were set between a long swirly horn projecting from its forehead. “May I ask? What are you?”

Fletcher Munsin felt layers of kind warmth exude off these two unicorns he was engaging, also feeling euphoric as he did so. “I don’t precisely know yet; I’m still trying to figure that out. I was just born, you see?”

“Oh, so you’re a creature of magic as well, are you? You are welcome here around us. We sense no demonic nature in your aura.”

320405-106566Even though Fletcher Munsin instinctively felt he wasn’t evil, it was reassuring to hear the little unicorn telepathically project that impression to him. “Thank You,” he replied with a nod. “You see, I’m searching for something. Would either of you two happen to know the whereabouts of this Fountain of Youth I’ve heard about? Is it real?”

The two cute little grazing unicorns turned to each other and laughed. “Yah, it’s real,” one of them said, “but dangerous. Shadow beings from dark realms occasionally break our natural barriers here and steal vials of the sacred waters of Breña. But us, we purely organic faerie creatures of this realm don’t need rejuvenation from Breña; we, having been returned to Agartha and sealed off from the surface word, have regained a near-immortality status. Yet we remain trapped here.”

“Trapped here?” Fletcher Munsin was confused.

“Yes,” the unicorn replied telepathically. “Many of us from this Land Know about how magnificent the Surface-Earth is, and everything it has to offer. We have seen it with our very eyes Once before, if but briefly. I and my friends, we are adventurers seeking to return to and travel across the Land Above.”

Intrigued, the man mentioned nothing of his order specifically not to do just that, and said “Oh, really? And what does this Surface-Earth have to offer?”

“It has to offer us stewardship, and a chance to redeem ourselves through conscientious karma-cleaning. The world down here may appear stupendous, and in many ways it is, but it also harbors much boredom to us. Besides, we hear that when unicorns lived across Surface-Earth, they had wings and were able to fly. That is what intrigues us the most, for we believe we have a lost heritage to investigate.”

Having only just started to See the diversity sheerly of all the different animals around him here and now, and how they coexisted harmoniously in an Ecosystem throughout the vastness of Land that was sure to extend wide and far, Fletcher Munsin had a difficult time understanding how different worlds could have their own types of appeal and high fascination, having just, himself, started to become fascinated with this One world. Despite the warning from his alleged creator, Surface-Earth was another place other than the worlds in Sirius that Fletcher Munsin wanted to explore, and now he was even more excited about being alive, although he would have to consider everything he did very carefully, of course.

tumblr_static_tumblr_static_filename_640The two glanced at him inquiringly as the man said “Wouldn’t a winged Unicorn be a Pegasus?”

The unicorn was quick to reply. “No— that’s a different species; Pegasi don’t necessarily have horns.”

“Really?” Now the man was engaged. “So, the horn-element of your makeup is very species-driven, is it?”

“Yes, driven by the horn itself.”

Fletcher Munsin, not yet wise enough to chuckle at this statement, was curious about his new companions’ horns very much in fact, and what they could do, but decided to answer their original question before things got out of hand. “Well, I’m from Sirius. But I’ve never been there.”

The two unicorns again turned to each other before one asked, “How can you be from a place you’ve never been to?”

“My thoughts exactly! I was hoping to travel there, but I wanted to explore this land first— it feels so wonderful just to walk around and breathe the air in here. So, you’re able to direct me to this rejuvenating so-called Breña?”

The Unicorns scoffed. “Oh, you seek vitality from the sacred waters, do you, child?”

“I… I’m not sure,” stated Fletcher Munsin. Having just been born, he hadn’t yet thought about death. Or that death was even possible. He wasn’t sure if he would need extra stores of vitality to stay alive.

“We tell you again, friend, it’s dangerous to go there…” The unicorn beside the one giving this warning remained silent and seemed less friendly all of a sudden, and suspicious of Fletcher Munsin. The one speaking went on. “But, if you feel you must go there, cross this here field and walk toward those gigantic boulders in the distance.” The unicorn pointed the direction with its twirly, spiky horn. The Sky had only a few fair-weather clouds in it and was mostly clear, the field of tall-grasses the creature was referring to mostly shady from the thick canopy above and forest walls around it. “Behind them,” it went on, “are several trailheads marked each with a colored sign. Choose the Red one and head down that trail for about two miles. Examine the edges of the trail closely as you go, child, and you will come to a small glyph-littered stone sculpture of a Phoenix that you can communicate with. Become One with the Stone and it will lead you to the Pond from there.”

“Thanks so much!” exclaimed Fletcher Munsin, and reached down to pet the two animals. He bid them adieu and began heading toward the big boulders yonder, a high strut in his step. He came, by and by, to many labeled paths behind them, chose the Red One, and started down it, trusting in what the two flightless unicorns —or were they de-winged Pegasi?— had told him.

hqdefaultFletcher Munsin continued down the wide dirt-road path with bells on, soon noticing it start to reactively glitter with shimmering pixie dust at intermittent intervals. Glints of yellowy twinkles started to conjoin along his way, hovering above a path that seemed to have been perfectly paved on its own, the forest floor in pristine condition even though he continued to see different floor-bound animals involved in their own activities everywhere, scurrying this way and scuttling that, their tracks magically erasing behind them. There were many airborn creatures as well. A group of tiny sparkling fairies led by two large birds, one red, one yellow, was approaching him now. He felt neutral energy from them and simply smiled as they passed along on their way.

The man, most excited now, and ever in a euphoric state of mind, continued rambling along his peaceful way down the forest trail with no trouble. Not that he was expecting any trouble, for Fletcher Munsin had yet to get into it. He didn’t yet know trouble. He continued cutting small strips of fabric from his robes and tying them tightly around branches of the trees he passed, picking his way for hours along the same path, having no idea how long two miles was, eagerly seeking out the stone sculpture that was said to be somewhere to the side of the trail.

When he eventually spied it out, he paused momentarily to absorb the vitalizing, message-giving energy from the stone totem, which was magnificent and informative. He was told to continue due East for about two miles through the unmarked thick of wild territory. He did so without any difficulty, still tying bits of his robes around the scenery he passed, and eventually spotted the clearing he was searching for.

As he got closer he could hear that someone was moving in the water. He paused with excitement behind the silver trunk of a red-leafed tree, staying a safe distance away, looking on.

onkssxeb.gifWhat he saw there and then will change his life forever. And he would never know that his first sights of a human woman were of the most beautiful woman that ever existed. Her skin was a glowing pitch-black, her limbs ever so slender. She had lively tribal tattoos of many colors all over her body that glowed soft hues of dark bioluminescence, and two huge large stones inside the lobes of each ear. Even while mostly submerged in the mystical pond, which was slowly giving off subtle glints of blue shimmers, Fletcher Munsin could tell that this woman was very tall, as well. Much taller than he was. She was wearing a tiara that looked like a snake, its head reaching out from the woman’s forehead in earnest, and she was bathing herself softly, her arms hugging herself in what appeared to the man to be an unnecessary vain exhibition of her rock-hard body. But, how could that be? he wondered. What could she possibly be getting from it in return? was the question that came to his mind. There’s No One there to suck on this royal eye-candy she’s laying out, no one there to Observe and Receive the sex appeal she’s exuding.

Unless of course there was, and she was aware that someone was watching her.

As soon as Fletcher Munsin had that thought, Magdalena suddenly lifted her head in his direction and he hid as best he could behind the tree he was leaning against, experiencing his first dose of anxiety as he kept quiet, adrenaline starting to secrete inside him, sweat starting to break out on his forehead. Turning his head down on himself as he crouched in hiding, he noticed for the first time what his erection looked like, and he couldn’t understand.

He looked back at the Pond a few seconds later and she was gone. -MIKE EYE

The Legendary Metal Master of Mystery

Hot Summer Days like this One usually remind me of havin’ cookouts and journeying through music-filled festival grounds in an appreciative daze.

Even when the festivals I attended were incredibly upbeat and badass as Ozzfest was during the late ‘90’s and early 2000’s. These Ozzfests were definitely more fun and fulfilling than any other day-long concerts I had been to, and always had a winding, topsy-turvy evil circus side-show-type feel to them, a brutal dose of dropped guitar chugs and maniacal war cries always underlying the spread of expanse setup at each show. The wonderful thing about these festivals was that, even as a young teen, there was usually a feeling that arose in me, upon frolicking the tents and stages of this hearty world-traveled freak-show entourage, that I wasn’t supposed to be there. Except, in reality, I always knew I really was supposed to be there; this wonderworld of revelatory heavy-metal music led by the Prince of Darkness himself was catered to children! How exciting!

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It was for me, at least. For example, I always knew that Marilyn Manson was a positive role model for kids because I understood and agreed with him. Not to mention him and his band’s music being a fresh new take and poise on this featured “genre that was dying music,” as Phil Anselmo humbly admonishes, and then proves incorrect as his fans uproariously respond intensely to the suggestion of Heavy Metal dying, in Pantera’s legendary Official Live: 101 Proof, on Heavy Metal Music. Anyway, “Nu Metal,” the so-called sub-genre of Heavy Metal Music that Ozzfest featured bands of, and is what kept this type of music thriving during its time, at least, is dead in its original form, and has been every since Lynn Strait crashed his car with him and his poochie. (See: Get Some) I attended quite a few Ozzfests throughout the years, even though there were a couple of monumental Ones I regrettably missed that featured Tool and Pantera, in all their 1990’s heavy glory.

Thankfully, though, I still managed to receive incredibly enjoyable heavy live music fixes from the likes of Slipknot, System of a Down, Coal Chamber, Static-X, Mudvayne, and Disturbed; during their heavy, startling domination of their heyday, through and to the point when the overall general excitement for seeing these bands live seemed to tragically crash-land like a New York airliner meant for Los Angeles into a deserted field in Iowa. No pun intended.

Out of the wicked intense Summer Ozzfests I attended at Great Woods in Massachusetts, with friends, or just alone, One great experience comes bearing to the forefront of my mind more than any other. It was immediately prior to 9/11. My best bud D. Ratt. and I had third-row seats for the Main Stage acts, of which ultimatley climaxed emotionally with the dark performance of the legendary Black Sabbath, all original members. This was long after their “Last Supper” tour, mind you. (Go figure?)

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The third-row seats we had were far stage-left: the spot traditionally reserved for the rock guitarist. This meant that we would be in face-looking range of the epic Tony Iommi! I was really looking forward to what I could depict from his guitar-picking and facial expressions later that night, but I still had the whole day ahead of me, and I typically like to arrive at these things when they open, at 9AM, when, actually in my opinion was usually when most of the really sickest, innovative, heaviest bands of the second stage would go out. At Great Woods, between stages, there’s this high-rise grassy hill that cuts into the air half as high as the treetop line and we would usually go there to smoke joints I had previously labeled with the band’s name that was currently playing in the distance at the time, and then walk right up to see them directly as they came on. It was so chill.32006-3-optimized_5906792615a59.jpg

Then The Union Underground came on. They’re like a cross between Powerman 5,000 and Alice in Chains. I was a big fan and I was really looking to feel what these guys could bring live. I actually remember some young audience member dudes standin’ around with over-priced beer cups, who had never heard of these guys, have impressed looks on their faces as they watched them, more than just because they were stoned. I distinctly remembered seeing One hot rocker audience-goer among the crowd clad in black leather who was a bit older than the rest. He was obviously enjoying the set, which included songs about tripping with Jesus and Lucy being in the Sky again. You know it’s a good set when it seems it just started and they’re already chuckin’ drumsticks into the crowd. This was One such performance. D. Ratt., fierce-faced beside me and ready, as I, to embrace the metal, concurred.

“Yo, I’m gonna go take a piss,” I said, and turned for the restrooms with a sense of urgency to arrive there before all other onlookers still dazed from the harsh silent wake of what The Union Underground had left behind it. In a hazy rush on the way to the bathroom to unload a bladder full of beer urine I caught sight again of that older rocker dude who was clad in black leather, noticing his mustache and goatee and neck-length brown hair. “Damn,” I remember distinctly saying to myself, “that guy looks an awful lot like Tony Iommi.

In the pissing trough-man-hideout-well that always acted as water refuge havens at festivals until the water pipes broke, I overheard some drunk dude say to his friend at the adjacent urinal as he was pissin’, “Yo, bro, there’s a crazy Tony Iommi look-a-like out there– his doppelganger! For real, bro, you won’t believe it! Hahaa!” he said with increased drunken emphasis. “Yah right, man,” the other replied, shaking his head and dick at the same time, “I’ve seen his look-a-likes. There’s a lot out there.”

After meeting up with D. Ratt., I consulted him. “Dude,” I said, “I think I just saw Tony Iommi in the crowd earlier, during The Union Underground. He was just by himself, rockin’ out. Like, for real.”

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My bud looked at me and said with a huge frown, “during The Union Underground?! Naw, why would Tonny Iommi be alone here in the crowd of The Union Underground in Massachusetts? Just doesn’t make sense. He’s probably tail-gating with Marilyn Manson right now telling tour stories.”

I admitted that, yes, that was a much more likely scenario to occur then him just randomly rocking out at that seemingly arbitrary certain place and time, and it was not discussed again at all between us.

 

That night, just after the last bit of sunlight faded away from ol’ jolly Great Woods and D. Ratt. and I were super-braced for the epic conclusion of Ozzfest ‘01, Black Sabbath went on stage. And, I’ll just say straightaway that I saw, as Tony Iommi, legendary metal master of mystery himself, came out on stage and picked up his guitar and started playing it, I wasn’t the least bit surprised to see him clad in the very same black leather getup I saw him wearing earlier that day.

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See?! I told you!” I cried to my buddy, “It was him afterall!”

There was not much response from him.

Maybe it wasn’t as surprising to D. Ratt. because he hadn’t actually seen him earlier that day himself. But I did. And, ever since that great, fun hot Summer of 2001, I’ve had a higher sense of reassurance that my instincts hold true, and are accurate, and are sometimes, as in this case, synchronistically spiritual. May the Force of Metal be with You All! -MIKE EYE / darkesoterika.com

“NEW TOOL ALBUM.”

 

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Twelve Years ago, 10,000 Days was released. It’s been almost half as long.

…since then, we have had just as, if not more-so, epic albums released from the bands who have been filling the all-defeating void left in TOOL‘s absence, in a Universe where Us Tools are continuously “fooled” year-after-year that TOOL will actually be releasing its new record, and then “let down” that they obviously weren’t for “some reason” for so many years now that it’s become far beyond a bad joke for us dumb-dumbs to endure. I’m talking about bands who have released mind-crunching, heavy, epic, innovative records the new TOOL album will now be stood against. Epic albums released since TOOL‘s last album dropped from the likes of ISIS, Mastodon, The Mars Volta, and Animals As Leaders. Will TOOL‘s “new record” stand up to some of the shit we’ve heard from those guys in the last 12 years?? Is there even a new TOOL record at all. (Notice, that wasn’t a question.)

But what’s really gut-wrenchingly exciting is that we know the members of TOOL & Evil Joe B. have had precisely 12 years to work on their new album. Think about it. Do you really think these guys JUST started writing their new album now??! They’ve been writing it for twelve years, you fucks. Yes, they’ve had shit-loads of Distraction. But 12 is the magic number, and “supposedly” TOOL‘s new album is actually set to come out this year (2018). Is it really true this time? Dare Eye I even ask?!

I know my readers have an opinion on this, and I challenge You All to Speak it! And, we all know A Perfect Circle & Puscifer are really sick bands as well, but PLEASE leave them out of TOOL discussions. Thank You. MIKE EYE

 

 

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You Are Not Welcome Beneath The Hollow. Won’t You Join Us? 😉

 

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From the Un-Brand New Sequel to The Aqueous Transmission by MIKE EYE

 

Chapter 4


“So you remember nothing of our trek here to this place?” pressed Magdalena to her pet a few days later. The two were starting to warm up to each other again. They were inside a makeshift tent they had scrounged together from various discards found around the Hollow.

“Nothing at all, except that I love you, beautiful!”

“But you don’t even remember me! How can that be?”

“I’m not sure!” stated the little snake contemplatively, “the old mystic may have used his magic to implant a false memory into my brain. I do somehow remember that this was a skill the reptilians from Orion specialized in.”

“Somehow remember? So… you think the old man’s really a reptilian from Orion?” asked the Mother. “Or that even you may be?”

“No, I’m quite sure I’m from somewhere else. The old man says he’s from Sirius, but that could be a lie. I tend to think it’s not, though. I figure if Al Rodnam had wanted to fully sway me into believing he’s from a particular star system, he would have just implanted that notion into my brain instead of just telling me.”

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“Really? So, where do you think you’re from?” asked Lina.

“Somewhere in the Pleides,” replied Amrita.

No way! That’s where that old fucker said I was from!”

Really? Do you believe him?” Amrita was genuinely surprised.

“Hell no!”

“So you think we are both from somewhere else?”

“At least you are,” said Magdalena. “I highly doubt that you and I are from the same place. When you were a robot, I didn’t even think you were a real being! As for me, I’m still trying to prove to myself that I’m not from the Pleides, because, as much as it seems ludicrous, I can’t ignore the fact that it may be true. By the way, how are you able to Speak to me without a human tongue or vocal cords?”

“Telepathy. No audible waves needed in the transfer. Only you can hear me, Lina. So, what about you?” asked the snake, most eager. “How much and how far back do you remember?”

“Unfortunately, I remember the journey here entirely,” said the Mother. “Even Mandorla’s wretched Birth. Especially Mandorla’s wretched Birth. Despite Mandorla’s wretched Birth. But not much before that.”

“Really? So you remember everything I did while I was in this ‘robot-cat’ form all the way over here to this Hollow that just so happens to contain the portal to my secret world that the old man seems to suspiciously Know about?” asked Amrita excitedly.

“I do,” Magdalena replied, “but not before the moment I first Woke Up somewhere deserted, destroyed, and discombobulated. Intuitively, I Knew it was Earth, though, albeit an Earth now clearly expired. And I was all alone. All alone ‘cept for you, Rita.” After momentary awkward silence, Lina nodded briskly. “But, yah, I have stories of our dreaded, screwy adventures all the way back to that Point. Do you wish to know, Rita?” Although she thought she could somehow recognize her best friend through the new guise, Magdalena still felt it rather odd to call the tiny little snake who slithered at her foot ‘Rita’ due to the lamellose disposition of the divine little debutant, it being distinctly diverse from Robot-Rita.

“Yesss,” the snake replied instantly, “please tell me.”

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“Well the first, most relevant thing that comes to mind is the warning you gave me just before the crazy old man transmuted you from an android to a serpent before my very eyes,” said Magdalena.

“Yesss, what warning did I give you, precious? I’m literally dying to know!?” The snake was sincere.

“You cautioned me about how much we cannot trust the old man!” Lina quickly replied forcefully, yet holding her breath, “and how he ultimately seemed to be altering select memories from me.” The woman looked around to see if Al Rodnam was anywhere near. “And despite your previous reputation of being 99.999999999% accurate as a feline-styled android, not to mention that you were my best and only friend around, I still refused wholeheartedly to listen to any sort of reason you may’ve been trying to give me… that is, until you showed me what actually occurred at that mystical Pond that we came across on our journey over here. The One beside which I finally found, and then lost, my precious daughter; the One beside which we were first confronted by the old man.

“I showed this to you, you say?” The snake was confused yet curious. “How?”

“You showed me the events of “the Aqueous Transmission” that you recorded with your bot-cam while I apparently was under a controlled trance, and then played it back to me on your cat-tummy’s holographic display! These events I Watched myself undergo after they took place completely contradicted what I remember having actually happened!”

“That is cccertainly most peculiar, Mother…” said the snake slyly with a fierce forked-tongue slither. “Wow, I could record and play videos? Cool! And… how peculiar it is about your warped memories! Oh dear! We do surely find ourselves in quite a quandary…”

“You could do a lot of things as a robot, Rita. I miss that you, quite frankly. But, alas, at least now you have showed and allowed me access to your secret inner world with the rejuvenating pond and all. At least that’s something.”

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“Oh, it’s something grand, Mother. Something truly miraculous. I tell you, do not misjudge the Power of My World and the Prowess of My Word!” the serpent stated joyously before becoming pensive. “You and I must try out damndest never to speak of or show it to the old man. You Know dear, that very Pond You Speak of, when Used by You during the Peak of your menstrual cycle upon precisely when My Blood Moon is Full, will allow you to continue existing forever, my love. The bountiful Baths of Breña will recharge you, but you must bathe exactly every 28 days. And You can Only get to this Pond through me, from the Hollow Above.”

“So you say,” the Mother pondered. “Don’t you find it rather curious that the old man new exactly where to bring us? It must be no accident we’re Settling right here beside the portal. But who exactly really is this old man/sky dolphin so suspect who can shapeshift and sidestep space so mysteriously and Outshine Us so? He says he’s my son and calls me ‘Mother.’ And he can morph into his giant flying dolphin form at will, so it seems.”

“Ah, yes. His true form. All I really Know is that he’s from Sirius. Or at least so he claims.”

“He’s told me that, too,” said Magdalena. “I don’t trust him at all. I’m starting to resent the fact he’s still alive, Rita. I don’t like the man. Or the dolphin, whatever. I would have no problem killing him. Except he Knows about my Unborn, and I’m a very curious girl. Besides, there’s a good chance he’s the only other living creature on the Planet, right? Ha! Now that you’re no longer a cat-bot I hesitate to ask precisely how good of a chance that may be, technically speaking.”

“100%. No, I’m joking, I honestly am not able to tell for sure. It seems bleak, though.”

Lina suddenly broke out into an overly-exaggerated, super loud laughter. “No Shit! Now, that’s something! You’re no longer able to do a global positioning scan on the Planet, but now you jest! I didn’t Know serpents had a sense of humor! That’s hilarious!”

Amrita slithered her tongue about a few times, then added, “Yesss, well, the events I forsee us undergoing are anything but.”

“How can you tell?” asked the Mother.

“It’s just a feeling. The radioactive fallout is adding some intense vibrations to an already exceedingly potent atmosphere. We should attempt to visit my Underworld as often as we can, but inconspicuously. There’s no telling what may happen to the world and humanity if Al Rodnam gains access to it.”

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“That won’t happen,” the Mother quickly replied. “Do you think he’s even biologically capable of accessing the portal, Rita?”

“I do believe he is, yes. But in order to pass through, his body and mind would need to be bonded to both you and me. Then taken to Our ssecret sspot. The place you can’t let anyone know about. And I don’t see all that happening. Other than that, he may be able to also gain entry through any Solar-aligned, Consciously constructed megalithic stone structures still present anywhere across the land, and from what you tell me about the looks of things on our way over here, it seems highly unlikely any still stand. We should still be mindful of this, though.”

“Wow, really? Are you sure? How do you Know this stuff if you can’t even remember living your life in your other form?”

True Memories and True Prophecies are accessed by different means due to the varying frequency of each of the Source signals’ Consciousness Streams that emanate from our Milky Way’s Sun. Which is Intimately Inter twined with the Pleides and Alcyone, its Central Sun, Mind You. You Know this, too, Lina, if but only subconsciously. My reptilian nature tells me this, although I do not think I’m from Orion. And I feel extremely intense energies on this wrecked planet right now and it’s definitely due to precisely where we are. And if the old man Knows about the Inner Earth access here, which I believe he does, we must be constantly vigilant, Lina.”

“Always,” Magdalena quickly replied with a fist and resolve. “Now you’re starting to sound like your old self again!” Lina gave Rita the slightest smile.

“Literally everything depends on what we choose to do from here, it would seem.”

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“Well let’s make shit happen, then!” the Mother retorted excitedly, believing she had more power than she did. “Something from the inside is telling me that my humanity, my sisters, are somewhere still Here; they were to be saved at all costs, and I was to be their savior.” She paused. “Ha! Delusions of grandeur much, beautiful??!” Inside Her Dark Head, Magdalena frequently called herself ‘beautiful.’

“Yesss,” replied Amrita seriously, “I sense this is true.” The little snake turned its little head to look Magdalena straight in the Eyes. “And the direction of our stellar precession from here forward will be navigated by You, Mother.”

Mother Magdalena’s golden dress glittered with eldritch at Amrita’s profound statement, and it was then she Knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the snake was right. -MIKE EYE

TRUMP, QUIT YOUR BOASTING AND BRAGGING!!!

 

Donald Trump Holds Campaign Rally In Dallas

 

For seven straight years of my life, on every single weekday morning in elementary school, I started the schoolday, along with all of my classmates, by reciting the chorus (yes, in glorious song) to You’re a Grand Old Flag (I’m American). And thinking on it now, something definitely is not sitting right. I’m talking about the third-to-last line about “where there’s never a boast or brag.” So here now in 2018, I now sadly must come to the cold hard realization that, either this very important American song that was drilled into my head nearly every morning in my home country of America is officially no longer American since the Trumpet took office, or the current President of the United States of America is NOT AMERICAN. Because, if you don’t realize it (it’s meant to be clearly evident), the Trumpet is constantly boasting and bragging everyday! Think about it. -MIKE EYE

 

 

You’re a grand old flag
You’re a high-flying flag
And forever in peace may you wave
You’re the emblem of
The land I love
The home of the free and the brave
Every heart beats true
Under red, white and blue
Where there’s never a boast or brag
But should old acquaintance be forgot
Keep your eye on the grand old flag

 

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SNEEK PEEK Chapter 1 SEQUEL To The Aqueous Transmission by MIKE EYE

 

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CHAPTER ONE, NEW STORY


 

Maintaining the reticence he had upheld throughout the whole of their journey, indeed as it was his custom, Al Rodnam stood tall and straight, meditating peacefully beside the hungry flames of his camp, his body stripped bare from having just abandoned his robes to the side. He would briefly pause his endeavor periodically to spy out Mother Magdalena, who was sitting a ways off on a stumpy log next to her pet snake, Amrita. Aware of the snake’s uncanny ability to speak, the wise mystic heard nothing yet of the sound of conversation between them he was anticipating. Carefully, as the old man slowly held up mudras to the flames with his hands, he continued to keep discreet, silent watch over the Mother and her pet in between salutations, waiting to hear who would say what first.

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It was nighttime on a cold, shaken Earth of all ash and for the past several months since the crash-landing of her ship and her formal anointing by Solaria, Magdalena had been searching in vain for any sign of life anywhere. It would be a long while before she found any. She felt fortunate that she now had magical talismans to put to use for her aid. And they looked pretty cool, she kept telling herself. For one, her magnificent golden glowing dress would protect her from the harsh, spoiled atmosphere of a post-apocalyptic Earth. For another, she had figured out how to use Solaria’s stone azure amulet, which reacted to the most prescient Pond of the Aqueous Transmission.

Tall, dark, and dazzling, Mother Magdalena, who had been fully pregnant at the time, several months earlier, was then all alone upon a ruined Earth save for her traveling companion, Amrita, who at the time was a robot-cat. The two would trudge on aimlessly over the expanse of steamy ruins as they continued to be beaten about relentlessly by the robust, radioactive winds all the while, making for a very frustrating trek. After some time, Magdalena and Amrita were able to make it to the Pond of the Aqueous Transmission, as they recognized the stone amulet glowing and pulsing more and more as they got closer to it. When they arrived at their destination, they were face-to-face with an ultra-smooth silvery pond that was not in the ground but hovered above it, wavering slowly around in a most subtle manner, twinkles gleaming blindly off hints of colors slowly swimming inside.

There they would remain for several days, as the Mother silently gave wretched birth to the still and hideous Mandorla, who had been, ever since that awkward, violent day, nearly impossible for Magdalena to come to terms with and accept as a person. She knew the baby was precious, though, as there was no mistaking the oddity of the Moon turning blood red as soon as she severed the umbilical cord from herself.

 

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That same blood-red circular smear in the sky was gleaming fiercely overhead now above the new place they settled, a dark crimson haze settled over the unsavory scenery. After the Aqueous Transmission, which had introduced the old man to a terrified Magdalena and brought about the disappearance of her child Mandorla, the mystic had taken the Mother and Amrita to their new home: the Hollow, which would eventually turn into Bry Dellows, the largest all-female indigenous tribal village on Surface Earth. They had arrived just days ago and were still exploring the area, assessing the damage they saw throughout its expanse. They discovered nothing more than stone ruins and dead, blackened tree trunks everywhere and it was clear that a great deal of work had to be done to provide for any type of civilization, no matter how uncivilized.

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Voices from the two he kept watch over were abruptly heard and an alerted Al Rodnam remained still, listening in. As Mother and snake began walking from the campfire, Al Rodnam waited ‘til they were just out of sight before cloaking himself and starting to trail them. He watched them walk about 100 yards through deadened brush just beyond the bank of their base camp.

Slightly bewildered yet remaining focused on the activity before him, the mystic watched carefully with a clench-jawed conviction at Mother Magdalena and her sly serpent Amrita suddenly zapping away in a flash, a star-studded cartoonish rainbow hardening momentarily into a frozen ice sculpture before shattering away in a rush into glittering tinsel. Despite his depth of knowledge, the old mystic couldn’t help but be beside himself, despite himself, altogether wanting to also immediately gain access to the Inner Earth Underworld at Once, himself. Not to worry, he thought to himself; he will be there to seize control of the rites of passage into the Underworld through this teleport system that the snake has shown the Mother. Next time they venture out, he will be, he assured himself.

The following evening, an overly eager Al Rodnam was ready when the Mother and her pet snake took up surreptitious stride toward the Stargate at the edge of the Hollow that would undoubtedly lead to the Inner Earth Underworld. As soon as Magdalena and Amrita reached the spot that the mystic had seen them disappear the previous night, his cloaked form quietly crept up directly behind them, his hand held up taught before him. Before Amrita could bond with the Mother at that very curious location, enabling them both to gain entry into her Realm down below, Al Rodnam promptly used his abilities to temporarily stun the snake and take control of Magdalena’s motor skills while her Consciousness remained in a trance. Amrita would remain in an elapsed state of suspended animation. Using the combination of Amrita wrapped around Magdalena’s Head with the precise location of Surface-Earth Land, the old mystic, invisible to any detection that may be warding the unmarked portal entry, easily passed through the Stargate along with the other two, something he was unable to do without them.

 

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A flash of lazery sways and the trio that was really an uno blinked into a smooth dark green of leathery leaves lifted all amongst them aloft, a vast breathing network of deep jungle spreadout before them. The mystic picked up the Mother and held her out before him. He mindfully mumbled a mantra and she floated off him, drifting slightly apart, dead to the world, but not. Al Rodnam tied a phantom chain around the gorgeous darkly complexioned woman’s aura and proceeded forth, the woman and pet hovering over the Soil of the Inner Earth, which was really the Air.

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Over and through this dense tropical warm rainforest they embarked, exuberant, exotic exclamations from friendly wildlife being heard all the while, feathery magical paths enigmatically paved out before them. Al Rodnam chose the One he Knew led to Breña and proceeded at a medium pace. He reached the Pond and jumped into it, his captures sleepily following obliviously close behind.

A sway of flashy lazers and the three transport from One esoterik watery bed to another. Al Rodnam swam up to the top of it, his quarry in toe. Emerging from this special Pond of the mystic’s Immortal Earth Southpole Homeland, the three Headed for the ancient massive hickory nearby. A lush, thriving, forever youthful rainforest, perpetually fixed in a petrified state of proliferation sprawled all about before them, a vast, impenetrable den of cozy outdoors that had Once been summoned forth by the old mystic and belonged solely to him. Al Rodnam approached the Tree with the Mother and Serpent and ran his wrinkly old hands right up to the Solaria Seed that was brightly glowing inside a crystal embedded in the old Tree’s humungous stump. He rapidly recited a refrain and removed the Solaria Seed, an extremely high-pitched blaring sound all around it instantly diminishing into a low pulsing hum. Prior to making his way back to the Pond, the old man was sure not to forget mindfully breaking off a branch of the mystical old Tree and tucking it away in his robes before leaving his Homeland.

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Birthing out of Breña, the three found themselves in Earth’s Underworld once again. A smile on his face with music in his Head, Al Rodnam took Magdalena and Amrita down an overgrown path that was Sunny and alive with all kinds of strange little creatures, the two in toe following close behind, hovering lifelessly just over the Soil beneath, still oblivious to it all. When they arrived at the secret bunker that strongheld the Stargate to Sirius, the mystic left his company just hovering there in one corner of the room and proceeded to the expansive control panel before him. Taking a seat the old man rummaged through some of the computer’s files through a holographic display, and read through some of the documents he kept lab data and personal experiences logged in, a firm tug at his long, grey beard as he did so.

He turned to his right where a large futuristic-looking metal bed chamber about seven feet long was situated. The machine was intimidating, connected to dozens of thick, ribbed wires on either side of it that ran into the metal. The Chair looked something of a cross between a cryo-chamber and a coffin, and the console of where Al Rodnam sat housed the controls of it. He looked straight at the strange machine and took a brief moment to pause, rolling over reflections in his Mind. Then he glanced over to the two he had left in the corner at the end of the room and looked back at the machine. It was time, he told himself. And he was ready. -MIKE  EYE

Eye Release the Prologue to the sequel of The Aqueous Transmission, currently in the works….

 

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-PROLOGUE-

 

The huge dolphin creature swam easily into place over the subtley marked ocean floor clutching the Solaria Seed in earnest and instantly disappeared. He shot at lightspeed through hyperspace for a few seconds, shimmering spirals spinning about him, and came out the other side as a human, in a small dry room. He glanced down at the large glowing seed in his hands and smiled before heading down a few steps to a small control panel, his dark robes fluttering about him. He was no longer in the Sirius Sector of the galaxy.

 

Having momentarily set the Seed aside, the old man typed incessantly away at the console for a time, updating his latest achievements into the computer’s hard drive. Then he went to go relieve himself in the bunker’s restroom to literally piss away the lag of interstellar travel his body was feeling.

 

Without a moment’s hesitation, the mystic walked up another short flight of stairs at the far end of the main room, grabbed the handle of the door that was at the top of it, and pushed it open, stepping out into woodland that was remarkably well lit for how thickly settled it was, an enigmatic Sun shining brightly through the boughs that criss-crossed overhead. Without a pause, the old man headed out eagerly with a slight grin on his face, both his hands carefully clutching the Solaria Seed.

 

He headed down a gentle path that blazed brightly through the exuberant jungle environment, a euphoric warmth embracing him from all corners all the while. His Head felt happy and he bore a growing smile across his face as he eagerly made his way through birdsong and gentle breezes to the rejuvenating Inner Earth Pond, the very body of water the Mother and her pet would visit exactly every 28 days from their heinous home on Surface Earth. The mystic, being a Sirian dolphin with high vitality needed not the Pond, of which was called Breña, to rejuvenate himself as Mother Magdalena did; he used the Pond for something different. Inner Earth was a realm warded by Amrita, the Mother’s pet. The mystic was on his way now to his realm, a world looked after by the old man himself— a divine version of a most pristine Earth in perfect harmony, existing outside the Time Continuum, and thus not in any stellar precession. And the entrance to his world was at the Bottom of Breña.

 

It was not long before the mystic could smell the familiar little body of water in the near distance and his step picked up pace upon sight of it, approaching with increased emphasis as he neared the Pond. Retiring his robes to the side, the old man, buck naked and hairy, tucked the Solaria Seed tightly against himself and dove into Breña. He swam a short ways to the bottom of the sacred waters where there was yet another underwater Stargate that he must pass through.

 

Surfacing at the Pond beside his thinking spot within the mystic’s Immortal Earth Southpole Homeland, the old man made haste toward the familiar grassy knoll of where he would sit and contemplate. Beside the knoll, standing taller than all the other trees around it, was a grand old hickory whose giant stump hugged a partially embedded Sirian Space Crystal the old man had kept there for this very purpose. He pulled a fast jog over to the tall tree, coming to a halt before the stump. He paused briefly, glaring inquisitively into the Sirian Space Crystal that glittered with an uncanny brightness. Then slowly, carefully, the man gently placed the glowing Solaria Seed inside the breadth of the glittering crystal and a very high-pitched noise sounded as a fiery ball of light lit the Seed up, haloing around it, blinding rays exuding outwards from it in slow pulses. The old man’s abdomen fastly warmed itself into a comforting hearth of some spiritual High campfire, and a smile spread across his face. Here he would let the Seed incubate for the time being.

 

He Headed back toward the Pond, mindfully bypassing his favorite grassy knoll of contemplation. As much as he wanted to sit and contemplate, he told himself, he now had more pressing issues to tackle due to the Seed coming into union with the Immortal Earth Southpole Homeland, a place he had created. He meditated his posture briefly, mindfully marking his passage in the undergrowth of his Homeland, took a round of heavy breaths of fresh air, then slipped back into the Pond. He would return here someday, he reminded himself. But not for a long while. He swam to the Bottom and took the Stargate back to Inner Earth. ~[MIKE EYE]

Endangering All Americans Suffering From Mental Distress

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Guy walks into a church in Texas during a service and starts blowing people away with bullets. The Trumpet toots that he’s grateful there was someone else there who, too, had bullets and a gun from which to shoot them in the opposite direction. Trumpet announces that this whole incident was due to “a mental health issue” the murdering gunman must have had. Trumpet also calls what happened “a horrible act of evil.” Although indirectly, this unfairly ties anyone in America who may have a “mental health issue” to Evil, and reeks of the President subliminally speaking specifically to those vast US populations who are most vulnerable. Is every American cursed by the stigmata of a mental disorder label, whether they have one or not, now suspect to being Evil? Are terrorist attacks on our country due to the terrorists themselves having “mental health issues?”

Along with a great deal of similar stunts the President of the United States of America has pulled recently, exploiting the victims of circumstance, proposing a new juxtaposition to the US people like this through millions of television screens across the country almost instantaneously creates an incredibly dangerous social environment for the people, inciting paranoia and possibly prompting more Evil acts to take place. No, Trumpet, the man who attacked the people in that church yesterday very likely didn’t have a “mental health issue,” yet was purely Evil. Perhaps ironically, the President of the US himself, Trumpet, the very man labeling the church massacre an incident caused by someone with “mental health issues” himself has very defined “mental health issues.” This fact is also being discovered by more and more people each day. He is exploiting anyone in the country who has been labeled with having a “mental health issue,” leaving them open to being vulnerable to those who would consider them Evil simply because of the fact. Being one who has “mental health issues” myself, I now forlorn the future a bit more as I recognize Trumpets distressing comments for the travesties they are.

All of this happening is just part of the Inner plan to prepare the country for being in a vulnerable enough state of distress and confusion to receive attacks from those with “mental health issues” abroad. The country, and its people, are now poised in even more a precarious a position to the Fall. -MIKE EYE

(No Words Necessary)

‘We might not recover’: Neil deGrasse Tyson gets emotional and sounds the alarm. All the alarms.

 

 

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https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2017/9/20/1700024/–We-might-not-recover-Neil-deGrasse-Tyson-gets-emotional-and-sounds-the-alarm-All-the-alarms?detail=emaildkre

HAPPY FOURTH?

 

Readers and Bloggers of DARK ESOTERIKA, Eye Thank You Deeply Yet Again for Taking the Second of A Day Now to Transcend Ultimately for the Last Time With Me.

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As Ewe all No, Eye Am bred from (a) TOOL. Or, rather, I Resonate most strongly with the same “Kreation Wave” interference patterns as the members and most fans of TOOL do. Dr. Carl Johan Calleman, known prolifically as one of the “main proponents of the idea that the Mayan calendar reflects the evolution of consciousness,” boldly purports a kompelling modern-day theory also held by many other modern-day ‘mystery school’ facilitators and spiritualist groups commonly come to be Known as the Fractal-Holographic Model. As Calleman explains in his awesome recently released book (2016), The Nine Waves of Creation: Quantum Physics, Holographic Evolution, and the Destiny of Humanity, “This theory entails an entirely new way of approaching the betterment of humanity…

 

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The State of the World, Undressed, by MIKE EYE

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Source: The State of the World, Undressed, by MIKE EYE

RIDING THE WAVES OF CREATION WITH TOOL

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Readers and Bloggers of DARK ESOTERIKA, Eye Thank You Deeply Yet Again for Taking the Second of A Day Now to Transcend Ultimately for the Last Time With Me.

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As You All May Know, I Resonate most strongly with the same “Kreation Wave” interference patterns as the members and most fans of TOOL do. Dr. Carl Johan Calleman, known prolifically as one of the “main proponents of the idea that the Mayan calendar reflects the evolution of consciousness,” boldly purports a kompelling modern-day theory also held by many other modern-day ‘mystery school’ facilitators and spiritualist groups commonly come to be Known as the Fractal-Holographic Model. As Calleman explains in his awesome recently released book (2016), The Nine Waves of Creation: Quantum Physics, Holographic Evolution, and the Destiny of Humanity, “This theory entails an entirely new way of approaching the betterment of humanity by becoming aware of the origin of the duality of the human mind and transcending this duality through creating resonance with waves at higher levels. [p.109] {*Author interjection: This is also essentially the definition of Visionary Fiction.*} He theorizes that the Universe is “composed of a nested hierarchy of holograms within holograms, which also at lower levels have Trees of Life at their centers.” [p.23] Compare this to the Wavespells of the Mayan Tzolkin. [lawoftime.org] In this blog post, Eye Bring You personal Awareness of the seriously important implications of this model’s Kreative Application when used by Us Lightworkers Now, and compare it to the lyrics of a totally genius TOOL song (no, it’s not Schism) to Diffuse Light into Your Beautiful Heads.

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I Am already Positive that All Readers and Bloggers of Something So Deep and NOT abstract such as DARK ESOTERIKA have already made this important konnection, but I Feel it so extremely important to render MY affiliation with the TRUE DIVINE in this precise manner during the Dawn of Our [US’s] Ultimate Trigger-point Katalyst WWIII Mobilization “Bombtrack” that is Coming Back Around Again exactly twenty years after the Year of tha Boomarang.

In his book, which I recommend you pickup and study, Calleman explains how “new and higher waves, each with a frequency twenty times higher than at the previous step, have subsequently become accessible [throughout history (p.50)]. If you scholars haven’t yet made the connection as I have, the frequency difference between these “waves of creation” increasing precisely 20x for each of the Nine Waves (not to mention the value and symbolic significance of the number 9, especially in how the signets of a One particular Tree of Life coordinate as such) is more than a little resonating. As Red Queen states in Her resounding award-winning 2014 book, Accessing Your Multidimensional Self: A Key to Cosmic History, “the present world of the human civilization was developed and is based on the third-dimensional zero, functioning as a positional place factor for 10, only half of the score (20). Ten [decimal] is third-dimensional and 20 is fourth-dimensional….Application of vigesimal mathematics [binary doubling] is what creates a new order of reality.” Klick.

So, Calleman says that over a course of 16.4 billion years (since the ‘big bang’), new waves of creation have been activating and spiraling out so to speak, influencing the polarities of both our Brains and the Earth simultaneously and continuously in phases of 7 peaks and 6 valleys (representing the 7 DAYS and 6 NIGHTS of Creation), in which the DAYS projected a particular polarization onto the land and in our heads during those times, and the NIGHTS projected no polarization at all. And we evolved through this flow. Throughout time, this has directly affected civilization or the lack thereof in astounding precision of a formulaic flow that pulses in precise proportions throughout history, unfolding, unravelling, and Calleman maps everything out for us in relatively simple terms and proves just how remarkable and significant these findings are in his book.

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As soon as a new creation wave is activated, however, the previous waves are still accessible, just less potent – hidden in a way. The key, Calleman says, is to ride the wave of interference patterns created by the ebb and flow of the previous and preceding creation waves. He likens this to serpentry curvature and the metaphor of the Rod of Asclepius, heavily citing how these archetypal symbols and designs have appeared over and over again in the artistic and scientific expressions of the oldest and most diverse cultures known to modern man. It seems I have always been wondering about this very thing.

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It gets more exciting! Apparently all Nine Waves are now accessible and running in parallel since March 9th, 2011 – pretty Godamn close to “2012,” the “Y2K” for New Age hippie equivalents. While we’re on this topic, consider the 60’s generation compared to the 90’s generation and attempt contrasting the two. I, Myself, have a difficult time doing so. Does it make you wonder about civilization? “It seems that in the areas where the conditions were ripe for it—Egypt, Anatolia, Mesopotamia, and the Indus Valley—people enthusiastically started to create civilizations around 3115 BCE. After all, they experienced civilization as a gift from the gods, and because this gift had a divine origin, it was incumbent upon them to develop it. Yet, at the same time people in this era shifted from being what the Hopi would call one-hearted to two-hearted, as the duality of the hologram mentally split a person in two,” Calleman states [p.109]. [See also: Evehema, “A Message for Mankind.”]

I will relate to the Sixth of what Calleman calls Creation Waves. This Wave was the first in the mental frequency range, the previous Five being within the morphogenetic, or biological range of the electromagnetic spectrum. It sparked in 3115 BCE and spirals out at a wavelength of 788 years. Compare this to the Harmonics and Chromatics of the Tzolkin. The activation of the Sixth Wave triggered a paradigm shift. According to Calleman, “The Sixth Wave transformed Fifth Wave humans who had begun to express themselves symbolically to beings with rational minds. Only after the mind of the Sixth Wave was downloaded did people start to create civilizations….Civilization did not create the mind; rather the activation of the rational mind through the Sixth Wave created civilization.” [p.77, 79]

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The polarity of the Sixth Wave Mind autonomously instigated a divide between rulers and the ruled of civilization, being half-divine light and half-darkness. This brought about caste systems and slavery. According to Calleman, “no lasting social change is possible if it is not promoted by people who have transformed their minds on a deep level and are not ruled by this duality of the Sixth Wave hologram….I believe that there is no such a thing as a force of evil and that the evil acts humans sometimes commit are a consequence of a particular dualist hologram they have downloaded.” [p.113, 116]

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I now leave you with the unofficial lyrics of the TOOL song Right In Two to ponder over at this very Kritical Moment. If You Know that You intrinsically resonate with My here post, I Highly recommend You Read the lyrics while listening to the Song. It should take a couple of seconds to load up on a search on the Internet. And… HAPPY LAST INDEPENDENCE DAY!!!! -MIKE EYE ⊙

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Right In Two


Angels on the sideline
Puzzled and amused
Why did Father give these humans free will
Now they’re all confused
Don’t these talking monkeys know that Eden has enough to go around
Plenty in this holy garden, silly monkeys
Where there’s one you’re bound to divide it
Right In Two
Angels on the sideline
Baffled and confused
Father blessed them all with reason
And this is what they choose
Monkey killing monkey killing monkey over pieces of the ground
Silly monkeys, give them thumbs, they forge a blade
And where there’s one they’re bound to divide it
Right In Two
Monkey killing monkey killing monkey over pieces of the ground
Silly monkeys, give them thumbs, they make a club to beat their brother down
How they’ve survived so misguided is a mystery
Repugnant is a creature who would squander the ability
To lift an Eye to heaven, conscious of his fleeting time here
Cut and Divide Right In Two
Cut and Divide Right In Two
Cut and Divide Right In Two
Cut and Divide Right In Two
Fight ‘til they die over sun, over sky
Fight ‘til they die over sea, over air
Fight ‘til they die over blood, over love
Fight ‘til they die over words, polarizing
Angels on the sideline again
Benched along with patience and reason
Angels on the sideline again
Wondering where this tug of war will end
Cut and Divide Right In Two
Cut and Divide Right In Two
Cut and Divide Right In Two
Cut and Divide Right In Two

Current Events: “What’s in a name?” High-jacking the power of words & associations, by MIKE EYE

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What’s in a name? Before the new millennium, I never thought much about the power of names. I hadn’t any idea that there could be so much extra baggage metaphysically attached to someone’s name. Just like how now-a-days, you can embed the track name, number, and genre in one MP3 song file, unnoticeable attachments are quantumly combined with the actual phonetics, pronunciation, and association of the names of people, places, and even things. 

For example, when I say the word “ISIS?” What’s the first thing that comes to mind? Do you immediately think of the lovely Greek Goddess of fertility? I used to, until the media purposefully sabotaged the word “ISIS,” forevermore associating it with a group* of misled, brainwashed barbarians with chips on their shoulders in just the same way Donald Trump has sabotaged a group* of our country’s representatives known as the Republican Party. By the exploitation of names and what they’ve come to represent. 

When referring to the militant group*, “ISIS” is the name chosen by the media to be used across the board, and it stands for the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria. Now, anyone who’s done just a little bit of internet research knows that, not only does this militant group* NOT refer to themselves as ISIS, but are trying to expand their territory and terror worldwide, as I understand, as we have seen with what’s happened in Paris, Brussels, and our US. I’m pretty sure all US media is owned by one person, that’s why all the news stations have exactly the same formats and stories and times. This One person, “hidden behind the curtain,” cleverly avoids the stigma of the group* mind and is left undisturbed. By insisting on using the majestic, compassionate name of ISIS, goddess of fertility, to independently describe this insane militant group,* who represents the opposite notion, the media has been using the simple and powerful, effective psychological phenomenon known as reverse psychology on us, and through constant repetition on many dimensional levels. Not to mention the media has forever tainted the essence of one of my favorite heavy metal bands, ISIS.

That leaves us with two other names publicly used to supposedly represent the same evil terror group*. For one, the government has never referred to this group* as ISIS, preferring to call them ISIL. This acronym stands for the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, the Levant being much more land than just Syria. But still, from my understanding, I thought that this “terror group,*” whatever they should be called, wanted to take over a good part of, if not the entire world, and perversely murder any person who didn’t “submit to Islam.”

Which brings us to the other “name” describing this “terror group,*” the “Islamic State,” which, besides articles online, I have seen this term being used on public television, and is the name that the group itself prefers to be called, if I am not mistaken. It’s more than just the first “I” and “S” in ISIS; their purposeful omission of precisely WHERE their “Islamic State” IS in it’s name is very curious. I imagine they may be trying to let the world know that what they stand for and who they believe in, and what they do, is actually Islam, the name, and everything it represents. President Obama has spoken multiple times about how he thinks what “ISIL” stands for is indeed NOT what true Islam is about, so now we have a HUGE general mass miss-understanding of what the fuck “Islam” IS, so much so that Trump, should he be president, would implement “a complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States” and blacklist the so-called “Vanilla Muslims” at Home who “haven’t been radicalized yet” and start heavily psychotronically surveying all of these Muslim Americans as well as resident aliens (not to mention anybody with any diagnosed psychological disorder), as if doing that could actually solve the problem of what he calls “radical Islamic terrorism,” or what Obama might call “acts of terror.”

Now, I hate to quote Rush Limbaugh here, I don’t care much for his views, but here is a quote from him that describes a great example of what, really, “is in a name.”

“I think [President Obama]’s got a different audience for the term [ISIL]. I don’t think he’s talking to the American people. I think he’s talking to Iran. We just heard Walid Phares say that Obama’s linkage here is not to oppose ISIL because Iran supports ISIL, and it’s all to do with the sectarian violence between the Sunnis and the Shi’ites and the fact that Iran capitalizes on the sectarian violence, does not want it solved because they hope to end up controlling the entire Levant — uh, sorry — region. Didn’t mean to say that.”

Even if Limbaugh is not correct with what he’s saying here, he’s still convinced millions of people that he is, or at least has supplied enough suggestion to arouse conspiracy theorists.

So what’s in a name? Literally more than you can Imagine. -MIKE EYE

 

 

 

*group : Never forget the power and terror of the “group mind,” a real phenomenon:

 

“Whenever such continuity of attention and feeling has been brought about, a group mind, or group Elemental, is formed which with the passage of time develops an individuality of its own, and ceases to be dependent for its existence upon the attention and emotion of the crowd that gave it birth. Once this occurs, the crowd no longer possesses the power to withdraw its attention or to disperse; the group Elemental has it in its grip. The attention of each individual is attracted and held in spite of himself; feelings are stirred within him even if he does not wish to feel them.

Each newcomer to the group enters into this potent atmosphere and either accepts it, and is absorbed into the group, or rejects it, and is himself rejected. No member of a group with a strong atmosphere, group mind, or Elemental (according to which term we prefer), is at liberty to think without bias upon the objects of group concentration and emotion. It is for this reason that reforms are so hard to bring about.”

—Dion Fortune, Applied Magic

Media Colludes to Hide Astonishing Fact About Glaring Signal in The Cosmos. Scientists Scramble to Explain Away. | Media

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http://beforeitsnews.com/media/2014/06/media-colludes-to-hide-astonishing-fact-about-glaring-signal-in-the-cosmos-scientists-scramble-to-explain-away-2482848.html

WONDER WOMAN – Rise of the Warrior [Official Final Trailer] – YouTube

 

*ÆN MEMORIUM*

Let ‘er R.I.P.’  CHRIS CORNELL (From the Bottom of my heart, Thank You!! Please give Scott, Layne, and Kurt my regards!!)

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Tap here for article: Chris Cornell’s Wife Issues Statement – Rolling Stone>>

Trump is Possessed: A Wakeup Call ☆ ☆ Reality Sandwich.com

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CLICK HERE FOR ARTICLE>>

“From Out of the Blue,” In a State Poised to Vaporize, a Miracle helps get me through to the Other Side: T⊙⊙L TO PERFORM AT FESTIVAL DOWN THE STREET FROM ME.

>>>>>>>>OF ALL THE INTENSE THINGS IN THE SPOTLIGHT OF GOINGS-ON AS OF LATE, there is One MAJOR amazingly positive, super rare and exciting event coming up this month that seemed so very unlikely and unexpected to me in light of how much terribly horrible and deeply demonic stuff is seemingly more likely to occur nowadays on our planet Urth, at the kusp. 

TOOL is coming to headline a festival literally RIGHT DOWN THE STREET FROM ME……….

This is such incredibly happy, stunning news for me and I am deeply grateful and honored to Know I will be experiencing yet another Once-in-a-lifetime event (not to mention EXTREMELY EXCITED ABOUT IT). Eye Imagine I could be only so fortunate as to gain epiphanies there that would otherwise aid me somehow in stimulating my budding growth as a new author and propel my kareer officially into its “New Author” Emergence phase.

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I’m so excited for BOSTON CALLING festival that it’s still about ten days away, and I already have my admittance bracelet on. 😆😆😆😆😎 It’s been almost five years since I’ve last seen TOOL, and this will be my fourth time Seeing Them. ANYONE ELSE GOING, I WILL SEE YOU ALL THERE!!!! 😀👽

A REALLY GREAT, FUNNY BATMAN EASTER EGG FIND!

Gordon’s Cell Phone. From BATMAN – ENDGAME PART 3.

On a Maneuver to Turn Lightworkers Against Each Other ~ by Alice Clagett

Awakening with Planet Earth

Dear Ones,

I’m sure you’ve noticed there’s a maneuver afoot to turn lightworkers against each other through lawsuits and ill feelings. This is being instigated by:

  • Controllers (who don’t understand the astrogeophysical nature of the Ascension process,
  • vested interests (which hope to maintain the status quo),
  • and on a subconscious level, by certain of our old friends and those family members who are going through the early Ascension stage characterized by anxious moments. It’s this anxiety, and a misunderstanding of the synchronous nature of reality, that leads them to subconscious prompts that we not do those things pertinent to our own awakening …

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Psychologist Carl Jung – The 11:11 Synchronicity ~ by Openhearted Rebel

Openhearted Rebellion

Compiled by Gregg Prescott, M.S., BodyMindSoulSpirit.com

Have you ever experienced an 11:11 synchronicity? Psychologist Carl Jung coined the term synchronicity, which many of us use on a daily or weekly basis.

Synchronicity is the coming together of inner and outer events in a way that cannot be explained by cause and effect and that is meaningful to the observer.
~ Carl Jung

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The State of the World, Undressed, by MIKE EYE

ORIGINALLY BLOGGED BY MIKE EYE ON NOVEMBER 14, 2016 @ DARKESOTERIKA.COM

DARK ESOTERIKA

The State of the World, Undressed

By MIKE EYE


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What really is going on upon, within, and just outside of Earth right now??

Okay, let’s get a bit more specific. Let’s Zero-In on the dreaded topic of the well-oiled Machine of US Politricks that is in desperate need of some figurative WD-40. Or not. Let’s talk Ruport Murdock (who’s personal net worth is now supposedly close to 12 BILLION USD). 

I don’t write political articles very much because I honestly don’t see the point. I personally “got over duality” some 20-odd years ago. But, alas, I am still an American Citizen, so if I don’t mention it every so often, some people would consider me apathetic, which would, in all reality, most likely just be a dingy, undesired representation of their misjudgement of me. 

But, let’s seriously ask ourselves, what the fuck just really happened in the past month or…

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WHAT MUST WE DO IN THE ABSENCE OF TRUTH…??

 

 

….we listen to the Album. 

 

 

IN THE ABSENCE OF TRUTH  |  ISIS

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