#5. Head Hankerhawk Reflections of the Andromeda Biodome Truth Revelation : End-times Imminent by MIKE EYE

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

Source: #5. Head Hankerhawk Reflections of the Andromeda Biodome Truth Revelation : End-times Imminent by MIKE EYE

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

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

 

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

 

– Story Snippet #5 for Dark Esoterika –

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was what Solaria demanded.

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

That’s how supernovae are formed.

 

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

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

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

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

“Location, Location, Location.” eye-of-horus-tri

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

Not so.

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

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

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

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

Preposterously, they wondered for the first time if they were indeed any ‘better’ than their Loombugs. 4a996f19f9a28cdfcfe5b835d3ad02fc

This terrified them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All of the overpopulated Loombugs did not require vast vegetation around them, not just because they spent a great deal of their lives absorbed in the distraction of simple dusty, dull Divinations, but also because their bodies were considerably deformed compared to better hydrated species of humanoids not born of incest and carelessness, and were made up of far less Water than the ideally evolved human of an industrialized civilization upon an Earth-like planet. eye0

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, it was an incredibly exhilarating High!

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

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

Not much longer now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Query and First Chapter!

The Aqueous Transmission by MIKE EYE (mike33eye@gmail.com / mike33eye.wordpress.com) is an incredibly exciting tale of dark lore that explores the idea of what planet Earth would be like if it had started out being ruled by small indigenous tribes of super powerful, genetically enhanced barbarian women with penchants for powers of perversion! This novel of fiction could be considered Sci-Fi and Horror, and has approximately 75,000 words.

Source: Query and First Chapter!

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

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. Ju…

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

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

☆ 24. (MOTHER MAGDALENA GIVES BIRTH TO AN ABOMINATION)

 

 

(MOTHER MAGDALENA GIVES BIRTH TO AN ABOMINATION)

 

 

Story Snippet #4 / from MIKE EYE‘s / The Aqueous Transmission

– from EPISODE FIVE / Chapter 24 –

 

 

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[chapter TWENTY-FOUR]_____________________________________
LINA AND RITA, NOT TO MENTION PART OF MANDORLA, NOW FOUND themselves in complete Darkness.

The mystical pond could not be seen.

Nothing could be seen.

It was mostly stale-ass dead silence in the air, as the terribly bewildered Magdalena suddenly got choked up, became still, and came to a nervous hush, remaining trapped in place.

And Magdalena’s precious Mandorla did not cry.

She could not cry.

In an atmosphere of pitch-black, Magdalena, who surely did not scare easily, started to whimper and her long elegant legs again began flailing about in a fluster, her back still locked into place in the air three feet above the surface of the space of Fucked-Earth that was beside the pond now as gloomy as could be.

And then, abruptly abandoning the attempt to break herself free of whatever held her, still in Darkness to the degree of Death, the Mother quickly then focused all of her attention upon her long-awaited most precious just below her, who, she now noticed, was not making the slightest bit of noise whatsoever.

“My precious!!” she exclaimed whole-heartedly, but panic-stricken.

Magdalena reached down in between her dangling legs to feel a super soggy umbilical cord hanging out of her that was pulled slightly Southward by gravity, separating her labias ever more apart from one another as the serpent twine swung fro and to leisurely, a baby-sized weight at the end of it, swaying forth and back like a pendulum predicting a path most unpromising.

Lina gasped!

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And ever-so-slowly, the Full Moon gradually returned to light up the muggy sky and desolate landscape with a renewed soft, subtle glow as the Mother prodded her oozing vulva meticulously.

But the Moon did not shine nearly as bright as before.

It didn’t seem like it could.

Mother Magdalena shot her Head skyward to behold the new Full Moon revisited: it was burning Blood-Red with an hallucinogenic hazy melting fuzz blistering around its seamless circumference.

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When she brought her Head back down to look beneath her, the Mother saw her most precious Mandorla hanging from her umbilical cord that remained attached to the placenta that was still stuck inside her uterus. A steady stream of blood from the Mother’s vagina was splashing into the messy mix, dousing the dangling Mandorla at the end of the spirally gut-like tube of intimate linkage, putting on a most horrifying bloody show dimly lit by the new brooding dark scarlet Lunar phantasm of stellar Fucked-Earth symmetry.

The faint, fiendish luster of the new blood-red Full Moon, subtly reflecting off the mystical pond, was shining the eeriest tone of macabre repugnance upon this vile horror-show nightmare image of the gory Mandorla, who swung gently in stony silence from the potent, sick fruit that remained lodged inside the deplorable Mother Magdalena.

Below her, just beyond her gaze downward, Lina caught sight of Amrita lapping up the crimson life-juice that was dripping daintily off the dangling, slowly swinging baby, which presented quite the atrocity of a spectacle. She instantly felt ill.

Unexpectedly, the grip that held Magdalena then let go, and the Mother fell fast toward her lovable android friend beneath, just missing Mandorla, landing ungracefully upon a substantial gathering of thick, lukewarm, slowly-flowing blood.
Her immense pain and anxiety had turned to utter numbness, and the Mother now felt nothing.

She gazed curiously, lovingly at her newborn on the ground beside her who looked horrid in the soft scarlet haze of the new Harvest Moon. There seemed to be some kind of debris all over the newborn’s body as well as on her face.

The deathly black baby was on her side, motionless, silent, and bathed in blood.

Magdalena’s gaze followed the length of Mandorla’s umbilical cord which extended out from the baby’s bellybutton and over the soiled ground, leading into her throbbing vagina.

And the Mother was too horrified, too struck still to notice how immensely repulsed she actually was at how insanely revolting Mandorla was in her appearance.

Lina lay unfettered in her own foul mess for a quiet, confused moment.

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Then, she made her way closer to her silent newborn. That’s when she froze in astonishment, her mouth dropping wide open in total shock.

The baby was grizzly, having a thick coat of brown hair that was disheveled with damp, blood-caked licks of it swirled into its splotchy skin. It’s face was regrettably deformed and as ugly as could be, with jagged bumps of inhuman growths poking out of unassuming places.

And her precious remained silent. So Deathly Silent.

Yet the baby’s promising Heart still pumped. Her chest still drew in breaths of air, albeit arrhythmic breaths at that, and of air that was most spoiled.

Lina became angry now, and her intense physical pain returned to her with nausea, her Eyes widening with disgust as she glared at Mandorla in unnerved Horror.

The Mother then initiated a most highly emotional display of prolonged piercing screeches sprinkled with sodden snivels and moans that nearly blew her lungs out and surely reached the heavens as well as the core of the planet. Such a disturbing display this was to her — and One that the lovable Amrita simply would not discern; there is a good chance, in fact, that the robot may’ve shut down entirely at this very moment had it been engineered to execute a reaction to a human behavior so complex.

A brusque breeze then abruptly struck the dark sky with sharp gusts of post-apocalyptic squalls that were sprinkled with indiscernible prickly pieces of ashen inexplicables.

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After the initial panic, Lina then unsuspectingly swayed herself into supposedly seeking out the sullen support of Solaria, never coming to see that it was in fact the supremacy of the spirited Lachrylon that she was secretly summoning subconsciously at this time.

During the following drawn-out instance, Magdalena found herself making raw, gorge-governed Love with short, nervy breaths to the disdainful air whirling around her distraught body, Love that was most candid, excruciatingly tender, intensely emotive. Lost deeply within her most painful sentiments exemplified, she felt as if she had just dropped a hundred pounds, becoming instantly anorexic as she desperately fucked the sky, arms spread out so wide, her precious deep-space, soul-sucked tears blinding all vision with a drowned-out nightmare pulsing in her Mind’s Eye.

Magdalena then suddenly remembered that the placenta was still stuck inside her.

The Mother abruptly picked up her newborn and brought the baby’s naval to her mouth, promptly tearing into the umbilical cord viciously with her teeth as she started chomping away at it. Shuddering hard, a disturbed Lina was now seeking to separate herself fast from the uncanny surprise that was her bundle of joy.
Upon separation of the cord from the Mother, Mandorla slowly opened her Eyes, and, upon doing so, gradually brought daylight to Fucked-Earth as if she was somehow able to summon the Sun with her newfound Liberation.

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Rita crept forward, its shiny face covered in blood.

“My, oh my!” said the bot.

Lina was already looking skyward in stunned bemusement.

“Wow,” she remarked, “I can’t believe it…”

As the scenery slowly became brighter and brighter, the Mother felt better and better. The bold glimmering of her torso as well as from twenty-four inches Above her Head had dissipated, but her magical golden dress of Sun-woven photon fibers reappeared upon her body, illuminating itself more and more as it soon got to be brighter than ever before. -MIKE EYE

#3. It’s finally time for the Last Godhed’s Conscious Mind to Astral Projekt his Subtle Sirian Soul Synced to his Human Body Out to the Sacred Seduction with Safety and Seclusion from within his Secret Southpole Homeland

A few moments following this exhibition, the Mother and the twelve of her closest, having instinctively heeded the suggestions made by the Shade of Fletcher Munsin, had quickly combined to form a massless shimmering, flying Metatron’s Cube — an alternate guise of her silvery space pod – and without any further delay, had shot toward Andromeda to then have, along with her High Sisters, the most Earth-shattering Revelation.

From there forward, the mindful mystic would continue to remain intimately bonded most considerately with his Shadow as the High Sister conjunction fastly approached the Sacrificial Lamb of Man following their Heady Revelation, proceeding to then abduct him, taking him to an undisclosed, most secluded, and otherwise inaccessible cryptic crypt to begin tempting the ill-fated man.

It would be here within the depths of these shady caverns, at a location Superunknown, that the Mother would begin proudly eliciting her ‘Snake Charmer for Godheds’ for to put Fletcher Munsin in the mood.

Source: from EPISODE NINE/chapter 36 of MIKE EYE’s the aqueous transmission

☆ 36. It’s Finally Time For The Last Godhed’s Conscious Mind To Astral Projekt His Subtle Sirian Soul Synced To His Human Body Out To The Sacred Seduction With Safety And Seclusion From Within His Secret Southpole Homeland

 

from

____E  P  I  S  O  D  E    N  I  N  E :____
T   h   e     L   a   s   t     G   o   d   h   e   d

☆   Story snippet #3   ☆

of MIKE EYE‘s The Aqueous Transmission

“…Let us be ashamed and put on the perfect Man, and separate as He commanded us…”

—from Chapter 9, The Gospel According to Mary Magdalene

 

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[c  h  a  p  t  e  r    T  H  I  R  T  Y – S  I  X]__________________
REMAINING LOCKED ONTO THE VIBRANT, HIGHLY RESONATING personal Mandala he had intrinsically constructed to breathe into with his Mind’s Eye, the safely secluded Al Rodnam was now fully engaged in the essential, most mindful process of vigilantly holding with all his strength the form of his Shadow, Fletcher Munsin, as it approached the Andromeda Biodome with the Head Hankerhawks of Bry Dellows for the second time in the same day.

The first time that the High, illuminated formation of elite sisters had approached the Biodome of Andromeda was several hours earlier, and it had held the purpose of providing to the High Sisters a most relevant revelation that would just as fastly bring them back to Fucked-Earth and straight to the site of their key target — the vital familiar and attractive subject who’s present location had become instantaneously delivered to their Oversoul Consciousness Identity upon the sisters’ collective exposure to that very Revelation at the Andromeda Biodome just prior. They, as the frozen liquid-light frequencies of the Metatronic Cube Collective, would now be lulled to the precise patch of geomantic terrain via their joint psychic and cellular activation, whereupon glimmered obscurely the holographic projection of the oh-so-long sought-after Fletcher Munsin, wrongfully assumed by the High Hawk Sisters to be the very last Godhed remaining across all the Fucked Land.

From the instance that prompted that initial flight to the Andromeda Biodome, the last great guru Godhed Al Rodnam had been metaphysically retaining his Shadow’s physical and abstract form to enigmatically appear at the edge of Bry Dellows, patiently waiting for the illuminating conjunction of High Hawks to have their revelation and return to their homeland village. This very holding of the exquisitely enticing Fletcher Munsin’s revealing form was the most critical conjunction that all the sisters of Bry Dellows had been Unconsciously awaiting throughout their lifetimes. The High Hawks were so compulsively overcome by having been abruptly internally guided toward the focal shimmering projection straight subsequent to their Andromeda Biodome Truth Revelation that they noticed not now how curious it may or may not’ve been that the subject of their seeking was now suddenly present so very close to their Home, and not somewhere else. Somewhere hidden.

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The mighty mystic Al Rodnam, as wise and powerful as he so was, had been unable to become aware all his own of precisely when he was to initiate his commanding facilitation of Fletcher Munsin, and so was ultimately obliged to hold off doing so until an official sanction from noble Nammu of Europa, the little ultra-perceptive dolphin hailing from the orbit of the mighty Jupiter. Little Nammu would remain still for a time, patiently poised at the bottom of the tranquil pond at the South Pole Homeland which was unaffected by a Time Continuum, the One beside where the mindful mystic was unwearyingly entreating upon the surfacing of the little European to finally deliver to him the Earth-shattering message.

The message that it was time.

And that that time had finally now come.

Just prior to the commencement of his holding the form of his Shadow, noble Nammu had abruptly swam up to the pond’s surface. Attributable to his Cetacean origin, Al Rodnam was able to interpret the Sonar broadcasts transmitted to him from loyal little Nammu. The little European indeed held encoded within her DNA and cellular memory the Divine Right Time that had Now Come, and it aligned with the Live Divine Blueprint of Humanity that incorporated within it identical multidimensional Consciousness structures, fluxing and interacting amongst themselves and itself with all sorts of many varying energies while reaching outward all the while. The time had now Come for the mighty power of this actuality to actually straight-away come into accordance with the precise moment upon which was the little curious interstellar dolphin’s destined duty, and that, she Knew well, was to deliver the message to Al Rodnam, the transmission of which was to be the actual action that would so ultimately allow the Mother and her twelve closest to initially head to Andromeda for the first time that day.

During that exact instance, just as Al Rodnam was reacting to the Word of little Nammu by starting to summon forth his Shadow, the incessant Blood-red Full Moon Curse of Mandorla upon Fucked-Earth abruptly disappeared, instantaneously shutting out most of the light shining over the doomed planet.

The mindless, incessant clatter of the sickeningly overpopulated Loombugs was abruptly taken up several notches, their frantic frolicking over the planet’s surface increasing immensely. Just as suddenly, Mandorla’s Blood-red Full-Moon Phantom-lock was replaced by a waxing white sliver that held a different, far less obtrusive sway over the expiring planet.

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A few moments following this exhibition, the Mother and the twelve of her closest, having instinctively heeded the suggestions made by the Shade of Fletcher Munsin, had quickly combined to form a massless shimmering, flying Metatron’s Cube — an alternate guise of her silvery space pod – and without any further delay, had shot toward Andromeda to then have, along with her High Sisters, the most Earth-shattering Revelation.

From there forward, the mindful mystic would continue to remain intimately bonded most considerately with his Shadow as the High Sister conjunction fastly approached the Sacrificial Lamb of Man following their Heady Revelation, proceeding to then abduct him, taking him to an undisclosed, most secluded, and otherwise inaccessible cryptic crypt to begin tempting the ill-fated man.

It would be here within the depths of these shady caverns, at a location Superunknown, that the Mother would begin proudly eliciting her ‘Snake Charmer for Godheds’ for to put Fletcher Munsin in the mood.

After the High Hawks had all tantalized Fletcher Munsin for a substantial amount of time within the mysterious, clammy caves, they advanced in their Holy Commission, transporting the hapless Lamb of Man to the Andromeda Biodome to at last utilize the colossal, sacred structure for its predestined proper purpose — for the long-awaited, most heavily symbolic Sacred Seduction and Sperm Extraction of the presumed last Godhed on Fucked-Earth which, as it comprised the combination of both the essences of Al Rodnam and his Shadow, Fletcher Munsin, would ultimately help conjure forth the first, most significant Space-Grain.

And the rest would be history. Repeating history.

Repeating history.

Upon arrival at the outerspace biodome, the Mother, her twelve closest, and the hapless Fletcher Munsin all promptly exited the silvery space pod into the breathable atmosphere of the deep-space structure most massive, the sly Hawks so coming to launch their be-charmed Sacred Seduction of Fletcher Munsin, upon whom they beset as their Host, a tingling sensation starting to crawl up the back of the lowly man’s neck, his throat completely dry, the sisters creeping closer like daddy longlegs. Meanwhile, Al Rodnam — the bona fide last-remaining Godhed with a ‘boner-to-hide’ — would attempt at all costs to sustain the vigilant High Communion he Now Kept with his Shadow’s Form throughout the duration of his own celestial milking, continuing to conduct all throughout the span of the spading a steady, mindful contemplative Intention while remaining securely concealed in the Immortal South Pole Homeland from whence the very Quintessence of Man sat abidingly in certain safety and seclusion.

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Throughout the entirety of the intense, brutal, kinky treatments of Fletcher Munsin during the forthrightly outlandish Sacred Seduction and Sperm Extraction orchestrated by Mother Magdalena, Al Rodnam experienced — and aided his Shadow in enduring — every life-long-lasting instance of the critical Sick Act that seemed to never end. And although Al Rodnam knew roughly what to expect of all this highly hormonal hyperactivity, the sheer atrocity of the caliber of brutality elicited by the Sacred Seduction at the Andromeda Biodome made even the great guru himself shiver slightly at times.

Immersing himself with Fletcher Munsin Intimately, and with every fragment of everything that was occurring at the Biodome of Andromeda, the great, most heedful, mindful mystic continued to maintain his High Concentration on it all, keeping his sharply developed Wise Mind focused fully and simultaneously upon three things: the experience, as his Shadow, Fletcher Munsin, of the Act being committed to him by Mother Magdalena; that was one. The wellbeing of his Shadow, Fletcher Munsin; that was two. And the third thing was to maintain the upkeep of a thoroughly Lucid Vision of the High-density intricacies of the complex sound and light patterns of the particular Mandala he had brought forth as Light Symbol Codes to aid his breaths to make the other two connections possible.

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Although challenging even for the Great Godhed, his part in all of this had been transpiring relatively well, the High thoughts of the old man helping to keep Fletcher Munsin willing to believe in himself and able to endure the most Passionate, most necessary sanctified exploit that would be required of the guru’s destined sacrificial counterpart.

And then, becoming lost momentarily in the whole general feel of High Suffering brought on by this High Sacrament, Al Rodnam, Seeing steadfastly through his Shadow’s Eyes, suddenly received an incredibly Lucid, particularly bright Vision of Fletcher Munsin’s face reflected back at him most ghastly and gruesome, flashing predominantly inside his Mind’s Eye with dire, greatly annunciated articulations. And slowly the pain started to be felt by the Godhed as well, although to a much lesser degree. Al Rodnam flinched only slightly then. What was wrong? he thought.

The old man slowly came to realize that the Mother had perfectly pierced her Holy Scepter straight through his Shadow’s skull and directly into his Third Eye.

Third_Eye_Ajna_Chakra_by_infiniteedge

After dispelling the Wicked Intent meant for his Shadow to crumble over, Al Rodnam quickly channeled those Evil images he then saw through his Shadow’s Three Eyes into milder emotions he felt Fletcher Munsin could tolerate. The Last Godhed smiled then, promptly astral-projecting a Vision of his own Face with that smile into Fletcher Munsin’s Third Eye to reassure him.

This would help Fletcher Munsin to just barely endure the worst of what was still to come from the Mother’s most persuasive mistreatment.

Just barely.

Al Rodnam was already mulling over the tricky task he had planned immediately following the Mother’s sadistic Sacred Seduction. He knew that the time was fast approaching for him to finally depart from his Sacred South Pole Homeland of Immortal Earth and advance through the stargate at the bottom of his peaceful little lake, down within the cool waters of which noble Nammu had been staying. This would teleport the mystic to the lush, ever-thriving domain of Amrita’s Immortal Inner Earth Underworld, depositing him at the very bottom of the mystical lake that Magdalena and her High sisters would visit exactly every twenty-eight days to rejuvenate their essences. From there, Al Rodnam planned to then travel a short ways to the portal entry that would transport him back to the edge of the dusky Bry Dellows upon present-time spoiling Fucked-Earth.

And finally, the last Godhed knew that he must then make it, however he could, through the abandoned sludge-scattered, trash-ridden radioactive ruins of a Fucked-Earth on the brink, high-tailing it as fast as he could all the way to the mystical pond of which the original Aqueous Transmission had taken place more than a few decades prior, in due course to be taking place again.

R i g h t   t h e r  e ,   s t r a i g h t   I n t o   t h e   m y s t e r i o u s   d e p t h s   o f   t h e   m y s t i c a l   p o n d ,   w a s   t h e   a c t u a l   L a s t   G o d h e d ’ s   F i n a l   D e s t i n a t i o n .  -MIKE EYE ☆ ☆

#2. Incendiary Ajna of a One Magdalena to Ignite High Psychic Union with Solaria

> > from the pages of The Aqueous Transmission….

…Fixed in an endless reverie‭, ‬a blank expression on her face‭, ‬Magdalena’s Ajna chakra had become fully stimulated‭, ‬and blood now gushed outward from the gash in her forehead‭, ‬bursting through the bandaging‭, ‬squirting all over the inside of her helmet’s transparent dome‭, ‬completely obstructing her view with a crimson flush‭. ‬Proving that she could not be disconnected in any way from the almighty nexus now communicating with her‭, ‬the triple optics of the Mother then pierced through the ruby veil of her helmet’s dome with activated brainwaves of eternal intent‭, physically ‬parting the obstructing splattered blood outward from three small‭, ‬perfectly rounded areas of the blood-soaked dome around her Head‭, ‬correlating to her three beams of vision…‭‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

https://mike33eye.wordpress.com/writing-sample-2/

Source: Incendiary Ajna of a One Magdalena to Ignite High Psychic Union with Solaria

The Aqueous Transmission, a novel by mike eye

“Assuming the contour of a fully illuminated Metatron’s Cube, the glowing orb of light comprising the thirteen Wicked women set celestial sail, gathering together the willpower to try traveling along the mangled psychelectromagnetic waves of a dying Earth. But with this New Light, this Higher Consciousness activation triggered by the deliverance of noble Nammu of Europa, the glowing orb-cube was able to traverse swiftly and easily over the spread of geological expanse like never before as it envisioned its own presence beyond the conditioned singular stance of the more simplified separate Sister, and so coming to catch a Hallowed Vision of the near future…”

Source: The Aqueous Transmission, a novel by mike eye

☆ 15. “The Andromeda Biodome Truth Revelation” Experienced and Exposed

 

From the pages of MIKE EYE‘s

THE AQUEOUS TRANSMISSION

Story snippet #1 from Episode Four, Chapter 15.

SOMEWHERE JUST INSIDE THE ANDROMEDA GALAXY, THERE HOVERED A massive, silver-white structure that had Once-upon-a-time been Divinely locked into place, forged out of cosmic ectoplasm, and fixed with walls of platinum-sheathed titanium alloy. It had long ago been assembled supersonically by a fusion of flittering feminism on most High, during the final dark decade of a chronic Kali Yuga: the culmination of one of Earth’s never-ending End-times.

This exact location would soon prove to be a most momentous one.

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The due time was almost here. It would be just days until the release of Fletcher Munsin’s almighty atomic seed into the doomed planet-womb surface of digital wastelands and indigenous atrocities all fed by Fem-dom.

Upon the surface of an Earth now so close to death and destruction, amongst the deformed, uncivilized indigenous female tribes, a new sacred assembly of female spirit was finally about to commence as the natural cycles of time would come to coalesce with a most critical epiphany had by the Head Hankerhawks of Bry Dellows to soon bring about the Fifth World which would spawn from the constellation of Aquarius.

It was a passage of the sacred message delivered by noble Nammu of Europa that would and had set the tables in motion for this.

The time for the Mother’s sacred seduction was nigh, as was the proceeding time for her misadventures in outerspace with Amrita and the corpse of Fletcher Munsin.

Twelve elite, courageous Hankerhawks of the most pious dominion were now finally able to combine with a Wicked thirteenth power, the one notoriously known as Mother Magdalena, to convert into One compelling collective that would combust into a large concentration of the brightest, albeit, frozen, light.

This super-powerful, ultra-high frequency gathering of elite Hawks materialized the very moment a little European creature named Nammu entered Earth’s domain. The chief tribeswomen would remain oblivious to the full scale of events currently developing.

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Assuming the contour of a fully illuminated Metatron’s Cube, the glowing orb of light comprising the thirteen Wicked women set celestial sail, gathering together the willpower to try traveling along the mangled psychelectromagnetic waves of a dying Earth. But with this New Light, this Higher Consciousness activation triggered by the deliverance of noble Nammu of Europa, the glowing orb-cube was able to traverse swiftly and easily over the spread of geological expanse like never before as it envisioned its own presence beyond the conditioned singular stance of the more simplified separate Sister, and so coming to catch a Hallowed Vision of the near future.

The orb-cube of women projected its Consciousness throughout the entire Higher dimensional field while consequently and simultaneously fueling a burning intuitive aspiration, as a new hot whole, to determine the exact whereabouts of the last remaining Godhed; they felt the Divine right time for the sacred seduction was nigh. According to present Insight, orb-cube navigator Magdalena was now certain that by this point there was only one man left, and he would be the One.

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The next instance was thoroughly unexpected by the Head Hawks of the Cube: the High Light of their select configuration abruptly found itself detached from the planet’s gridlines, flinging off of them promptly to be shot into deep-space. Meanwhile, more and more Loombugs upon Fucked-Earth’s surface began behaving even more maliciously than usual, tactlessly inciting scuffles with one another, comets shooting through the sky above. As a number of all-out senseless brawls began breaking out among the Loombugs down below, the orb-cube of elite sisters continued to follow its revered course which was suddenly taking a new direction away from Fucked-Earth.

Cruising at light-speed through the Milky Way, the shimmering orb-cube of High sisters received a psychic transmission that brought collectively into its conjoined consciousness the personally encoded, and Earthly aligned multidimensional, inner schematics of the Human/Earth Templar Template. It manifested as Enlightenment on an etheric plane of existence, with a single, sudden bio-neurological flash of a mysterious still-image Symbol Code shocking the all-white Angelic Soul Fibers of the Damned that sewed together the unholy Hankerhawk orb-cube union that was Mother Magdalena’s Cube of the all-encompassing Metatron. This image flashed in the Mother’s conscious memory repeatedly as she cruised toward the edge of the galaxy at lightspeed with her sisters. Although not yet able to take the stargate route to the neighboring galaxy of the Milky Way, the orb-cube of High sisters all simultaneously were still able to gain awareness that, nevertheless, it was Andromeda that would indeed be their immediate destination.

Upon this most dour Eleventh Hour, the illustrious Unholy Cube of Metatron came to be lulled enigmatically toward the nearby galaxy fast, fully concentrated within itself, and growing increasingly aware of the current epoch’s status. The mighty Hawk amalgamation intuitively sensed an all-too picturesque, ultra-melodramatic climax in the loom.

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Contemplating to its conjoined self as it fluttered on its way, the orb-cube recognized the True Emotive Source from which the lure beckoned; the orb-cube came to see that it was indeed riding on a path that hailed from a most strangely familiar sanctity of superiority, calling upon it now to a specific location that would trigger within the Mother’s Metatronic Consciousness specifically an incredibly important Insight that would undoubtedly assist it in remembering something very special and prudent to this juncture.

The mysterious lull the orb-cube of Hawk sisters was responding to was in fact orchestrated by the power of an aquatic duo that had Once formed a pact that would allow the mighty counterintuitive force of Metatron to nevertheless continue existing forever. The pact was mandated by none other than the almighty Lachrylon. The One member involved in the pact was that watchful humble entity currently stationed in a synchronized jungle location, at the very bottom of the warmed South Pole of Immortal Earth, focused in deep thought inside a cool pool that separated a small, gentle flowing stream. The other One humble entity involved was, of course, the brilliant mystic Al Rodnam — the actual Last Godhed on Fucked-Earth, and an Avatar most significant in this tale Eye tell.

The orb-cube of Thirteen strong shot through the sky like an overcooked meteorite, being tugged closer and closer to that far-out linked location, entangled within the harmonized interstellar current that led the way to Andromeda, metaphysically re-searing its track freshly into the morphogenetic code of Metatron all the while, recalling more crucial End-Times instructions vital to the Mother’s Divine Plan now Cumming into existence.

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Approaching the inside of this neighboring galaxy, the orb-cube now came to a halt as it befell the magnificent outpost before it, instantly identifiable to it as the sacred safe-haven it had individually — but as a collective — built during a place before time. It was an outerspace biodome that had been supposedly originally constructed with the purpose of functioning as a transitional location for the human race, or even a temporary holding chamber for humans, perhaps, until, either it was safe for the race to return to some post-apocalyptic future-Earth they Knew was inevitable, or someone had found a better, more suitable place to live and would be willing to welcome others into the new community.

Because Earth always had dire times such as the End-times now transpiring.

Wreaking with a melancholy reminiscence before the biodome, the illuminated entity now also somberly recalled how, no matter how hard it had tried, it just simply could not find any possible way to replicate an Earthly ecosystem and maintain a balanced homeostasis within this dome of Andromeda. Not even one single plant was able to be grown inside it during experiments, even with employment of the extremely Highly advanced technologies the Hawks had received from their totally loving giant-dolphin counterparts from Sirius B.

The problem with the biodome was, the sisters now finally plainly realized for the first time, was that the Hankerhawks of Earth hadn’t been Tantrically Bio-engineered with the Wisdom to see that Earth technologies were meant exclusively for, and functioned only within, the psychic, geo-electromagnetic conditions of the planet and its inhabitants. Even the most potent consciously-directed work of the Soul of a Master Templar Initiate who had genetic bonds to the original organic arrangement of the creation of the Earth wouldn’t be able to make any Earthly grain or vegetable grow inside the biodome, simply because it was a biodome, and a biodome in another galaxy, and not Earth. It had Once become apparent that the human race, no matter what condition its biology had evolved into, was not yet ready to exist anywhere that wasn’t its familiar third rock from the Sun. And it wasn’t until now that the elite Hawk sisters of the orb-cube now altogether came to remember this important fact.

Fairy Mystical 1

The mighty amalgamation of the Head Hankerhawks absorbed the all-powerful energies from this archaic, listless embodiment of their prehistoric Soul Creation until its collective consciousness finally came to realize why and how each of its counterparts had currently gelled, so coming to find the very reason for why it had ventured out to the cusp of Andromeda at this very particular moment in time.

There had been an Emergence.

Hovering beside the dome, the glowing orb-cube became fully Enlightened as it finally retained the real purpose of this structure, which couldn’t be recognized until this very moment right now: this site was to be the Hallowed grounds for the contemptible Conception of Mandorla.

It was subsequent to this intense experience of Enlightenment received by the innocent Observation of the Andromeda Biodome by the Head Hawks that the conjoined Thirteen elite sisters were able to consider the hunt for the Last Godhed under a completely New Light and High Guidance. Equipped with this new flash of Insight, the glowing orb-cube hastily shot back toward Earth with renewed excitement as the sisters altogether now Knew something very crucial they hadn’t previously.

The Cube of Metatron coasted through the cosmos, this time leaving in its wake a star-dusted trail that constellated its candescence with shimmers of the High Wisdom that had just been acquired.

This time, the shimmering figure knew exactly where it was going.

Yes, the Mother and her elite Hawks writhed around in ecstasy inside the orb-cube as they shot back toward Earth, having become fully aware of exactly where the Last Godhed remained.

At long last!

This time, the Hawks wouldn’t even need to give any effort to locate him.

-BY MIKE EYE