Masks??

It’s time to talk about masks.

Masks. WOW! These things were always meant to be a joke from the start, right? I put this topic of discussion off for about two years, but I can no longer let it slide off my table of things to bring up with my followers.

Let me just say straight out that face masks are without the slightest doubt definitely not the things that are going to save us from “Covid-19,” any virus, or anything else for that matter. 100% guaranteed, they will only serve to perpetuate dysfunction, paranoia, discrimination, and even poor health in our already feeble communities.

Here’s why.

Sure, masks may end up aiding a fraction of a fraction of a percentage of people who have convinced themselves that they work and are in the wrong place at the wrong time. But, for the most part, face masks will only get you sicker than you already are, as well as completely freak out the probable weak person next to you. I totally mean it! We didn’t grow up this way in America, and it is an extreme detriment to society because we are inadvertently exacerbating the lie that everyone is sick around us.

This is just simply not true.

Let me put this as succinctly as possible. And I can promise to you all that there is not a single milligram of blood in my body that supports the new Trumpian wing of assault on humanity. Nor the current administration of disinformation upon our cultures. But the only reason anyone anywhere would ever wear a mask is either because they are or were an indentured slave in a farm, or because they are desperately terrified for their lives for some unexplainable reason.

There really is nothing to be terrified of. Why? Keep reading.

Here is a simple fact of life: any type of face mask, no matter what grade or price, whether surgical or cosmetic, will never protect you from anything, especially yourself. In fact, face masks may greatly increase the chances that the wearer will become infected from any virus that may be running rampant across societies.

Here is your proof.

Firstly, if masks actually worked in protecting people from the coronavirus, nobody in China, where everyone is forced to wear a mask, would still be infected from it more than two years later, especially when they have had “effective” vaccines for more than a year, now. Just use your brain and think for yourself about this for just a few seconds. You’re welcome.

Secondly, wearing masks greatly increases the chances of you getting Covid-19 because their only proven, deliberate function is to spread bacteria all around your face as you flip them up and down from it! Yes, for real! There is no offence meant here, but if you wear a mask regularly and haven’t realized this fact by this point, you may as well take a pistol loaded with bullets, aim the thing to your temple, and pull the trigger.

Thirdly, face-mask culture induces and makes prolific in our culture that was already rife with paranoia, ultimate, extreme paranoia. We, as “legitimate” cultures around the world, are now generally more terrified than ever before about dying from a virus that has literally only killed 0.3% of our population* while wearing masks. You should ask yourself, now that we are wearing masks, why is it that we feel less safe instead of more safe? Come on, people! The easy answer is that masks don’t work and were never meant to function as a safety feature to protect against viruses, or anything for that matter. Need more proof? Everyone in China wears masks, yet there are still outbreaks of coronavirus there in March 2022, more than two years of everyone wearing masks there, and being vaccinated!

We readers of Dark Esoterika now all already know for certain at this point that the best defense against viruses and propaganda alike is to think for ourselves, meaning we must not listen to anybody or anything else except our own logical reasoning (because they are lying to us), and we must ignore absolutely everything else. Those are the only tactics that will aid us in this brutal war of deception against our own people other than the following.

Finally, we come again to Mind Over Matter. And this is wholeheartedly, absolutely the Real Truth, here. Simply put, in situations where the basic mass of public is in stress over plague, a great majority of those who belive they will survive, simply because they’ve convinced themselves that they can, will end up surviving, whereas those that have convinced themselves that they will die, for any reason, most likely will die. This is because the human Mind’s processed, meditated perceptions are much stronger than any new, shady, corrupt information that is attempting to penatrate it.

AMEN! My friends, there is absolutely no reason to wear a face mask at any time. You will survive strong without one — I guarantee it. -MIKE EYE

* Do the math yourself: if there are about 333,000,000 people in our country of America, and approximately 1,000,000 have died of Covid-19, then that is about only 0.3% of the population. Nothing to get frenzied about.

P.S. Let’s say you don’t believe me, and you still feel like you have to wear a mask everywhere you go. Well you obviously haven’t considered the following. Okay, let’s assume that you’re wearing a mask and someone who’s totally infected beside you sneezes, Covid-19 flies into your direction, and your mask somehow manages to block the coronavirus by catching it on its edge instead of hitting your mouth or nose. So, then do you really want to walk around with coronavirus attached to your mask as you talk to people and flip it up and around your face? Yah, I didn’t think so!

P.P.S. One more thing. You may be wondering, with all the controversy over masks: why have scientists not conducted any clinical trials yet to prove without any doubt that masks work to protect people from viruses? The answer is that these scientists have conducted these trials, and their results did not turn out in their favor! The reason the scientists can’t expose the truth of these trials to the public is that they have wasted billions of dollars on mask propaganda already for the past two years, and they don’t want to generate additional fear into the public anymore than there is already, not to mention it would delegitimize their otherwise respectable institutions if this truth ever got out.

P.P.P.S. This article is not what I “believe.” It is my intuition of reality; the content herein has absolutely nothing to do with my personal opinion. And the reality is that wearing a face mask for a prolonged period of time greatly lowers your immunity; you can’t wear a mask for two years, suddenly take it off, and then expect everything is going to be fine — it won’t be. If you’re currently wearing a mask, you need to keep it on for the rest of your life in order for it to continue to be effective. Once you take your mask off, your immunity will become much lower than it was before you ever put it on; this is a major reason for never putting it on in the first place. Similarly, if you’ve been vaccinated, you need to continue to get booster shots every four months for the rest of your life if you want your immunity to stay strong. If you miss a single dose, your immunity will then become lower than it was before you ever got vaccinated. For this reason, no one should be getting vaccinated, except the severely immunocompromised, and those dying of cancer.

The Future is Now

The Future does not discriminate; no one will be saved from the Future completely, physically intact. At least not in the way we are now. Not even those few like us who think for ourselves. But, unlike the vast majority of the population, we who Truly think for ourselves will at least finally have a clear Vision of the Truth before we die. And I can promise you that we who have that Last True Vision will have our Souls brought to a more Mindful place than everyone else, on a Higher level than ever before.

We are not elitist. We are Outcasts. No one has ever taken us seriously. But we Know the Truth because we are not influenced by anything we see or read anywhere other than recognizing that these were statements made by other people, not us. They are worth considering, but are, for all intents and purposes, meaningless. To think for ourselves, we need to experience reality first-hand in all situations, at all times. Someone else’s Word is only just that — someone else’s Word. It is not in any way our Word.

At this critical juncture in time, we overly analytical people of the world who value more than anything else Truly thinking for ourselves, realize one simple thing above all else: the sad, horrifying truth is that the amalgamation of all world politics, religion, media, and institutions have been, through an excruciatingly slow, grueling method, via higher elemental, cosmic manipulation, purposefully conglomerating into a supreme demonic energy, in an effort to bring down all world cultures without the people of those cultures realizing what brought them down.

That’s what always happens.

The deception of this is what is demonic. But believe it or not, the Apocalypse will not be. The Apocalypse, like all others of each Age before this one, is supposed to happen every so often; they are as natural to this Earth as you and I am, and how we relate to it. The manners in which they happen are the topic of discussion here.

This is a major reason why there must never be any divine intervention at any time, and especially not during an Apocalypse; things must be allowed to naturally take their courses on their own. I have never understood when otherwise intelligent individuals who think for themselves question some god or entity as to why they “aren’t coming to save us.” The entities are there. They just can’t save us. Or rather, they won’t. And this is not a bad thing. You See, the purpose of life is for we human beings to Observe and Imagine the God that we always Knew we were, even before we were born into these bodies, to organically and mindfully reconnect the dots into our higher selves. If the gods were to intervene during our human lives on Earth, none of us would ever be able to accomplish this, our main tasks on this planet, and safely land back on the other side. Not to mention, we would then be even more horrified and confused than before. In addition to allowing the enrichments of the personal successes of our lives to fully absorb into our consciousnesses, if we are finally able to see things for how they Truly are before our bodies die, then the true purposes of our current lives on Earth will have been met.

Let me put this bluntly. And it may seem counterintuitive at first. But the first step in figuring out how things Truly are on our planet is to fully realize that, given the ways things are ultimately supposed to be, and especially with today’s deliberate disinformation campaigns on the internet, there is absolutely no possible way for any human being, no matter who we are or where we’re located, to completely Know exactly what is going on in our world. Deductive reasoning isn’t as effective when so much propaganda is out there. It is not worth trying to figure out what is and isn’t True in the content of online news articles, no matter what the source; they are not even worth reading. And even though there are some decent printed news articles that may be worth reading just to see what people are actually choosing to believe, they are often too rife with slanted views and warped syntax to be taken at face value. Even videos can be “deepfaked,” but that also doesn’t mean we should automatically assume they aren’t real. Again, it is impossible for anyone to Know everything that is really happening in our world, no matter what we tell ourselves. But, once we accept this fact, fill in the blanks by thinking for ourselves — meaning, getting out there and experiencing life in person while thinking critically and reading books printed before the internet went online — and then prepare to die, we will then have the possibility to gain a Vision of the Real Truth for what It is as we die out of our bodies, accepting this death. And those reading this article already Know this fact, like I do, simply because it has happened to us before.

But, what’s the point, we may ask, if we are then dead once we finally know the Truth? You See, our lives can be fun and enriching and wonderful as we help each other think for ourselves throughout them. But, believe it or not, we are all still living on a very undeveloped, inhumane planet that does not ultimately serve any of our basic, natural interests. This is the reason those who live closest to nature think of many generations down the line, whereas those stuck in constructs of societies think only of the current one. Well-knit indigenous tribal cultures are in fact, and always have been, by far the most advanced cultures of the world; they help advance the well-functioning aspects of it much better and faster than any other culture. It is too bad they are practically extinct. When we live close to nature and keep this in mind, we will have a better chance of remembering this fact when we are reborn.

The Future may be Now. But it is just the Past of our next Future. “The only way to fix it is to flush it all away.” When we come back next time, we will be genetically enhanced if and only if we were able to overcome being duped about our human reality during this run of our lives. And the only way to do that is to think for ourselves and not let others think for us. Our genes all have the possibility to be reborn again into future humans into a new Earth, even when everything gets completely wiped out. How do we know for sure? Well, when we analyze the Sciences of Earth very deeply, we truly get a sense of how life behaves by way of death, and vice versa. Wonderful ecosystems could never thrive so beautifuly and complexly if death wasn’t also intermingled with the lives of the different plants and animals on it. If we didn’t die, our human lives would be meaningless. The main reason History repeats itself is because practically no one ever lives long enough to remember what actually happened, and the written History of our world has never been accurate, even before the internet ever existed.

This is why we must constantly, critically think for ourselves at all times. Everything we are exposed to online and via TV must be taken with a grain of salt, especially during wartime. Are there still people in the world who don’t at all use social media except WordPress, or don’t use cell phones or have cable or stream programs? You bet your ass there are! I am one of them. I digest printed books and published e-books exclusively. Sure, it leaves me feeling a bit lonely. But I can guarantee you that I am not in the slightest bit confused about a single thing in my life. I am ready to Ascend to the next level. Are you? -MIKE EYE


One should not necessarily take to heart everything that is read online, including this article. But these Words do Truly come from my heart. Here are a bunch of recent photos of my dog Frankie and Eye. Peace to all of you! Love, Mike Eye.

Welcome, New Friends, to that Nightmare Future we Knew would Someday Come.

“Please Remember, Your Smile and Good Feeling can Help Others in Many Ways.” –Dr. E. Shan Tang, local holistic doctor in Boston’s Allston neighborhood.

MY [LAST OF US PART II] VIDEO GAMEPLAY SHOWCASE, Exhibit F.

More sick The Last of Us Part II shots of mine. This was an incredibly enjoyable, totally epic, realistic video game, and was a complete thrill to play! And the gameplay is tight and smooth. This game also features some of the best graphics I’ve seen on the PS4, and I will be uploading prime screenshots from this game soon. I’ve noticed the uploads of HD videos on WordPress dramatically reduce the quality, so I would recommend you either download or ask me for copies of the original — Thanx!

EYE SERIOUSLY APPRECIATE AND LOVE YOU ALL, SUPPORTERS OF DARK ESOTERIKA, AND THE SECOND PART OF MY SEQUEL TO THE AQUEOUS TRANSMISSION WILL BE BLOGGED & PUBLISHED SOON! -MIKE EYE

MY [LAST OF US PART II] VIDEO GAMEPLAY SHOWCASE, Exhibit E.

* * * * [SPOILER ALERT] * * * *

Here are some seriously intense video clips from The Last of Us Part II played by yours truly as Abby of the WLF faction. The Wolves have been competing with the Seraphites for control of Seattle in a post-pandemic, post-apocalyptic world; all of the police have either been killed or joined the Wolves. But when Abby is almost hung and gutted by the religious Seraphites, she is saved by a young boy Lev, and his sister, who had been ousted by the Seraphites, and the leader of the Wolves soon catches Abby affiliating herself with the “Scars,” as the Wolves call them. With Lev now a resented apostate, and Abby forced to defect from the Wolves, she and Lev eventually travel to Santa Barbara where the remnants of the Fireflies are supposed to be located, after Ellie kills Abby’s friends in anger over Ellie’s horrible loss of Joel. -MIKE EYE

PS. There will be one more post of cool videos from The Last of Us Part II coming up!

MY [LAST OF US PART II] VIDEO GAMEPLAY SHOWCASE, Exhibit D.

Getting behind the guns and huge arms of Joel’s killer, Abby, from The Last of Us Part II, gives the player different weapons and techniques, and allows you to also get inside the head of one of the game’s most brutal antagonists. Yes, she has a story of her own, and is actually a high-ranking member of Seattle’s Washington Liberation Front (WLF) who’s life gets saved by dissident ex-members of the primitive Seraphite faction, and ends up becoming a post-apocalyptic rogue outcast herself. Enjoy these short, badass video clips! -MIKE EYE

MY [LAST OF US PART II] VIDEO GAMEPLAY SHOWCASE, Exhibit C.

Here are more totally badass video clips of me tactically slaying vicious, poor cordycepts-controlled zombies in The Last of Us Part II as the passionate and vengeful young Ellie, on a mission to bring down Abby. This very well-made game was incredibly fun and exciting to play, and I hope my blog readers of Dark Esoterika have fun watching these PS4 clips of my Last of Us Part II highlight reel! You’re Welcome! 😜 -MIKE EYE

MY [LAST OF US PART II] VIDEO GAMEPLAY SHOWCASE, Exhibit B.

Now, here are some of my short, exciting, scary and wonderful video highlights as Ellie from The Last of Us II, exploring Seattle and taking out various stages of the cordycepts-infected as well as uninfected enemy faction members. I will make another post after this one featuring more videos of my high achievements with Ellie, and then make a few posts with videos of me as Abby, who is stronger and even better equipped to deal with zombies than Ellie is. Enjoy! -MIKE EYE

MY [LAST OF US PART II] VIDEO GAMEPLAY SHOWCASE, Exhibit A.

After having had a blast playing through the highly anticipated PS4 game multiple times, and after reviewing and editing my personal video clips from it, I am now ready to showcase my Last of Us II big survival action highlight videos for the world to see!

For those who were unaware, this action survival game sequel is the second installment in another highly emotional, yet also grisly, and most thrilling adventure that takes place in a post-pandemic, post-apocalyptic United States where most people have either died or have transmuted into various stages of sneaky, vicious feral zombies, due to the Outbreak of a cordycepts brain infection that has wiped out most of the world’s population. The last non-infected survivors of the US eventually dismantle all law-enforcement and split into separate warring factions that patrol the now destroyed and empty lands for supplies or other survivors.

In the first game, 14-year old Ellie, seemingly the only survivor to be naturally immune to the virus, was being trafficked by members of the Fireflies faction across the country to be used, and then killed, to make a vaccine to the cordycepts. But Joel, the man charged with taking her on this trek to the Fireflies hospital base for the operation, was not about to let that happen once he found out it would kill her; not after the powerful bond they had made on their journey there, and how much Ellie reminded him of his own daughter, who had been tragically killed by quarantine zone feds.

In the second game, Joel is killed for being the one to ruin any chance of there being a vaccine for the virus, and Ellie, severely emotionally distraught after witnessing his brutal murder, goes on a quest for revenge to take out Joel’s killer, Abby, of the WLF faction, who’s father was the doctor to perform Ellie’s operation in the first game, and was killed by Joel to save Ellie’s life. As a player, you get to control Joel, Ellie, and Abby at different times throughout the game. The bond Ellie and Joel make over the years is extraordinarily adorable and incredibly powerful, and it is so wonderful to be a part of it as a player. This special bond has also become beloved among countless Last of Us fans around the world, and has even spawned a TV show based on the game on HBO that is already amassing fans.

I’ll begin my Last of Us II showcase with this first post, not of me stealthily evading and taking down infected zombies yet, but of a cut-scene of a flashback from when Joel thoughtfully takes Ellie to a science and nature museum for her birthday. Remember, these are post-apocalyptic times in a fictional US, and there is nobody around and nothing to do anymore. -MIKE EYE

A special birthday for Ellie.

THIS NEW DEFINING YEAR 2020 🌪🌪


 

Hello hard bloggers of the real and the intense. 🔥

Eye am back to DARKESOTERIKA after an interesting, most enriching time running KULLING VOICES for several months, a kontroversial faKebook TOOL group I created to virtually monitor the most anticipated FEAR INOCULUM U.S. TOUR 2019.

Eye was kurrently flourishing with much Winter excitement, kulling rewarding opportunities amid a snowy bounty of high-yield, all-natural white inspiration at Killington Resort in Vermont, February 2020, lining up my loving passion in hopes of reaping more relentless results for the sequel to The Aqueous Transmission this defining year of my writing career, and of all lives.

Welkome, friends. And stay awhile. ☆☆☆☆☆

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BOSTON CALLING 2020 MUSIC FESTIVAL RIGHT HERE @ HARVARD FEATURING A REUNITED RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE, FOO FIGHTERS, & RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS 🔥

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A QUICK VISIT TO ANDROMEDA

 

 

[CHAPTER TEN]


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Slowly rising out of her unconsciousness, the little snake shuddered as she tried to shake off her immense dreariness, noticing at Once that the last time she had felt this Lightheaded was when she didn’t even have a Head. She was packed in tightly somewhere, buried deep among countless forms that matched hers. She realized something bad had happened to her; most of her memory seemed so distant she thought she may now be living a new life.

But she wasn’t, she realized, after a few unsteady moments. She had been taken from her best friend and fellow neurobiological counterpart, how long ago she hadn’t the slightest clue, but as the clearness of her memories sharpened slightly, Amrita could not mistake the stark sense of déjà vu that struck her. She had been here before, she realized ironically, in the face of not yet remembering how she even got there. It was long ago, she realized, and she had been caught up in the same messy mix with other snakes all slopped together in what seemed to be some sort of satchel.

Amrita started to slither her way free of all the others pressed about her, but as she tried to go any further upward she felt a softening of the response-time of her efforts, her motor skills having somehow become dramatically weakened. With difficulty, the snake started to slowly move as it attempted slithering past all that confined her within. The other snakes she was contained with seemed to be dead or at least unconscious like she had been; none of them moved.

As Amrita quietly poked her tiny dirtied head out at the surface of her soup bowl of serpents, she just as soon remembered she had originally been placed in a glass box, as she found herself dumbly looking directly at it across from her. But her thoughts about what exactly had happened to her quickly diminished as the background of where she was came painfully to the forefront of her gaze.

 

 

 

In the near distance were at least fifty short, hairy, and nude men who all looked quite similar, all clustered together in a cloud of slight snorts and sharp moans before the wizened guru who stood blindfolded, wrapped in his long, flowing grey robes against all his brothers and sons with the almighty Staff of Lachrylon raised Highly in One hand and his mysterious bottomless drinking gourd beared by the other. He was feeding and blessing these men with his eternal magic water, which fully provided them with all the right nutrients they would need to survive, Amrita Knew.

As curious as she was about what was happening before her, Amrita remembered that she had been taken captive and was now resenting the old man for it. This was her chance to make a break for it and slither away before anyone noticed her escaping. But before she did, her curiosity convinced her to spy out this spectacle a moment longer.

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Al Rodnam, although short himself, stood tall over all the little mysteriously shrunken Gilded Grunts, who were slightly jostling about in mixed confusion beside him and muttering low phrases of gibberish that trailed off into other sporadic outbursts. There was a subtle glow about the Grunts as they Received the special Water, and slight sparkles of stardust slowly beamed off their inquiring Heads with a blinding arc at the sheen. And as Amrita was watching this, she made a disturbing connection.

These were the Gilded Grunts — some of the only men left on the planet since Mother Magdalena had followed the mystic’s orders and chopped off their…

These here were not snakes at all she was packed within.

In a flash of an instant — almost in the same moment she realized it — Amrita shot out of the bag of dicks and made a break for it, shaking off the pestilence that had fastened a quick grip on her.

But it was no use.

“Ahh, there you are!” she could hear the old man cry in the distance as she felt herself being raised into the air and brought toward him, her efforts at defying his clutch of magick futile. “I was wondering when you’d arise!”

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Amrita panicked as she was being brought towards Al Rodnam, squirming with all her might in an attempt to escape his hold, but as she floated involuntarily up to his Head, the old mystic attempted to put her at ease.

“There, there,” he soothed part-mockingly with his Voice and one cocked eyebrow before casting aside all speech for telepathy. “I can also communicate with you like this,” he said matter-of-factly with bold emphasis.

“Let go of me!” Amrita shot back telepathically, hisses escaping her mouth with a forked-tongue fury. “I know. Fuck You, old man! I’m still furious with you for turning me into a snake! Release me at once!”

“Oh? I thought you would be delighted to return back to your true form and mingle with those of your shape and nature,” said Al Rodnam with a wink as he fastened her with a locking sound about the crown of his Head. “Besides… Lina, myself, and these Grunts here need you to Be this way. As do the Hawks and All of Bry Dellows and the planet Urth. I also Know that You Know this is So.” He pointed to all the little hairy, retarded old men as they dumbly looked back at Amrita who couldn’t at all move her Body as much as she tried. “Come with me,” stated the old man to the poor snake as if she had a choice to do so.

 

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Al Rodnam brought Amrita down a dusty path that was bordered mindfully with glowing rune-marked stones at its edges that gave off a faint phosphorescence upon the approach of the old mystic.

Then Amrita heard the squeals.

Just ahead, the trapped serpent so hexed who now functioned as the mystic’s halo noticed very obviously where Al Rodnam had brought their transmuting unicorn friend from Agartha to be duplicated for Loombug food. As they passed, Amrita could see countless hairy hogs pigging around fastidiously in a wood-fashioned sty that was also littered with runes all over.

“Thank you for bringing me your friend,” the mystic motioned with one hand to the sty. “As I mentioned, I was able to duplicate him to the correct number as needed by the Loombugs for survival after I am gone and will no longer be able to bestow upon them my magickal sustenance.”

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“Gone?” asked Amrita, surprised, still resentful. “You’re leaving?” she asked in an annoyed voice.

“Soon,” said the old man as he continued past the noisy pig pen to the edge of his camp. “But first, we must do something important.”

“I’m not doing anything for you!” exclaimed Amrita, affectionately offended. “You turned my friend into a pig!”

“I did not,” replied Al Rodnam carefully. “The surface world’s environment transformed him to something useful.”

“Something useful?” bellowed the serpent in indignation, “The same way I’m being useful to you?”

“Precisely!” the old man stated as he came to a halt.

He waited several moments more before again taking up the Staff of Lachrylon, softly muttering some indiscernible phrases as he waved it around before him. The Staff flared to life, hot orange streaks flooding out of the runes on it in waves, a fire ripping open an electrically charged circle around them. It lit up the environment in a burst, catching Amrita off-guard, as if she could guard herself, anyway. The mystic made another full fiery arch above his head with the Staff in One full swoop that left trails of blue electric shocks in its Wake. Then he tapped the Staff against the Stuck Amrita on his Head Four Times, and by the fourth tap, they had already transported to a different location.

Spread out wide and far were gentle rolling pastures of grassless Soil dotted sparsely with small huts, the materials of its design undeterminable by Amrita. Encasing everything all around the mute pastures was Diamond Glass held in place by titanium alloy, the glitter of zillions of Stars, Nebulae, and Aurorae spilling through the crystal-clear glass and illuminating the entirety of the outpost most brilliantly in a flush of celestial glister.

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“I know you know this place,” Al Rodnam stated calmly.

The serpent on his head rolled around her eye sockets. “The Andromeda Biodome. But why?!”

“You Know Why, Amrita. To keep our boys ready to be reaping the Space-Grain that will One Day be sprouted here to keep the Blood-Pigs fed so the Loombugs can eat. We need many Loombugs alive, Rita.”

“Yes. And permanent sustenance for them. Once you’re gone,” Amrita remembered telepathically aloud. The man turned around and with him, Amrita, and the snake were surprised to see that all the Gilded Grunts of Bry Dellows had followed them through the portal to the Andromeda Biodome. “It’s True, I Know that the Loombugs must be fed and kept safe, multiplying to the utmost in order to eventually give birth to more Hankerhawks, which Lina needs to have her Revelation, I Know.” Her pupils were not only fully dilated but spinning around in continuum, one counterclockwise to the other.

“But there are very few men left in Bry Dellows and our jarred rations of sperm are running thin, old man. You said you must go from Bry Dellows. As of now, we have managed to Spawn only Four Hankerhawks… we need eight more until they can Combine with Lina. The prospects of our highly-populated Imagined future appear grim. Will You leave Us no sperm?”

“I have no more to give,” Al Rodnam stated simply with wide eyes and matter-of-factly, quickly changing the subject before Amrita could interject. “I brought our Grunts, who have all been Gilded by our Mother Magdalena, Here to this High Kusp of galactic hallways, inside a hidden pocket of time-space.”

 

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“I Know about the Andromeda Biodome,” declared Amrita willfully. “Why do you bring me here, old man?”

“To return this to you,” he stated calmly, and after several gags he mindfully regurgitated out from his mouth something small and sparkly, drenched in mystikal Saliva. It was Magdalena’s Amulet which he had been saving inside himself until this moment here and now, She Knew. It had somehow transformed into an Emerald, and Amrita couldn’t understand.

“I don’t under—“

“Shhh,” the mystic whispered to the snake. “Sure you do.” And with that he held the shimmering Emerald against Amrita, who remained locked atop his head. It fixed into place with a *shluckk* sound and a huge splash of green lit Amrita up.

“Let’s go back to Bry Dellows,” said Al Rodnam. “We’ll leave the Grunts be for the moment.

Amrita, amid the feeling of intense euphoria, felt also climactically invulnerable as the old man passed through the space-time rip that had been left open and entered his camp at Bry Dellows Once again.

It was nighttime and the Moon was Full but not white, returned to a deep, familiar tone of thick burgundy that flooded the dusky depths of the Hollow with a pale, bloody flush.

“We’ll leave this artificial wormhole opened for the time being,” he said matter-of-factly. “I have engineered it to only work with the Grunts from now on.

“Now. Go and tell Magdalena what I have told you. By the time she hears what you have to say, I will be Gone.”

With another loud *schluck* sound, Amrita was removed from the mystic’s head and set free upon the ground, the green sheen diminishing abruptly with the cease of the sound.

Amrita slithered as fast as she could all the way to Mother Magdalena’s campsite.

 

IF YOU’VE ENJOYED THIS SHIT, PLEASE LIKE IT & SHARE IT. THANK YOU. -MIKE EYE 🤘 💜 🌌

RIDING THE WAVES OF CREATION WITH TOOL

 

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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FEAR INOCULUM

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I got into TOOL in 1996 when AENIMA came out. I was the perfect age to be woken up by this album — 13. The rest is history. I consider myself as hard a TOOL fan I could possibly be, having been born in ‘83; as soon as I hit puberty, I got into Rock and Metal music, and into TOOL in particular. At the time, in ‘96, I habitually listened to my local alt-rock station, WAAF, which actually played not just Rock, but Metal regularly throughout the ‘90’s. During the reign of AENIMA, almost every song from the album was played on that station, including not just Stinkfist, H, 46 &2, & Aenema, but also Eulogy, Pushit, and Third Eye. Jimmy would be the only exclusion.

Not that it mattered. I had already bought the album the day after I had first seen the Stinkfist video on MTV (although for some shady reason, it was referred to as “Song 1” only on MTV at the time, not the radio) and had already been studying it deeply, always making sure to listen to it from start to finish. I had NO idea what I had in store for me Once having bought AENIMA for the first time. I remember the physical jewel case of the copy of AENIMA I bought having a peculiar, perfectly cut out smooth puzzle piece in the lower right section.

I always knew it meant something.

Listening to the songs off of AENIMA ripped me a Third Eye and completely enhanced my View on life for so much the better, that by the time LATERALUS dropped in ’01 and I was a senior in high school, it didn’t take me as long to dissect the album as the previous One had. But it still took 6 months at least for the LATERALUS album to be completely absorbed by my inquiring membranes.

In my humble opinion, ladies and gentlemen, it is completely amateur and counterintuitive, not to mention impossible, to write an honest heart-felt review of FEAR INOCULUM this soon. I’m sure most long-time fans would agree. As much as this incredible band has had hard airplay in the past, they were never a “radio band,” which makes their radio feats all the more remarkable. This may be difficult for a traditional millennial to understand, as the internet has completely changed the music industry for the worse since the 90’s.

This beloved, long-awaited new TOOL album will take months to grow on us. It is absolutely incredible and mature. So it will be months from now, I’m afraid, until I give DARK ESOTERIKA’s official review of FEAR INOCULUM because, as with every single other post posted on this website, I want it to be 100% Heart-Felt, and completely genuine.

For now, Chapter 10 will be released soon. As well as my personal current ideas on this shit-culture freaking our children out to be poverty-stricken before the end of the next generation as the POSITIVE outcome for the future, which was yesterday. -MIKE EYE / GO FUCK YOURSELF.KOM

ANIMALS AS LEADERS 10-Year Anniversary Sold-Out Show At The Paradise, Boston Blew My Mind Last Night 🌌

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So Heavy, So Innovative, So Epic!

It Was A Really Great Show! Check Them Out HERE If You Don’t Know Them!

MODERN MIRACLES OF METAL MUSIK

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VEIL OF MAYA | FALSE IDOL

☆☆☆☆☆

A few listens will blow open your Soul for a few moments. -MIKE EYE ⊙

OUT TODAY! America’s Emerging Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers: Northeast Region

I’m happy to have a taste of my next novel published in Z Publishing’s latest installment: America’s Emerging Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers: Northeast Region! Please pickup a copy and support your local talented independent writers today! -MIKE EYE ⊙

 

The book on Amazon here

The book on Z Publishing’s Website here

The Legendary Metal Master of Mystery

DARK ESOTERIKA

Hot Summer Dayslike 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 criesalways underlying the spread of expanse setup at each show. The wonderful thingabout 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…

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THANK YOU, GEOFF JOHNS, FOR SAVING THE DC EXTENDED UNIVERSE! WE LOOK FORWARD TO MORE!

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AQUAMAN CLOSING IN ON ONE BILLION DOLLARS. 

 

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Thank All 444 of You For Following Me. -Mike Eye ⊙

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“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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Out Now! Massachusetts’s Emerging Writers: An Anthology of Fiction

 

Greetings to you all! I am pleased to announce that my work is now featured in the just-released latest publication from

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This unique collection of Literary Fiction is Available Now on their website or on Amazon! Please pick up a copy today and support talented local, independent writers! The Z Publishing Team compiled fresh, new work from up-and-coming authors in anthologies for each state, and the one for my state features a chapter from my The Aqueous Transmission, as well as work from other talented emerging writers from Massachusetts.

Massachusetts’s Emerging Writers: An Anthology of Fiction

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Click or Tap here to buy on Amazon, and Thank You for Supporting me. -MIKE EYE

 

Awakening In Agartha

 

 

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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

“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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