As a technology savvy builder and constructor with a hands
on clear view of the limits of physics, I became a Truther after watching
WTC Building 7 come down at free fall speed on 911, 2001. WTC 7 was the unravelling
thread that brought down this game of lies and deception.
The Truth movement’s basic flaw is to rail against a particular symptom while ignoring the identity of the real foe, to waste battle against one of its minion agents rather than against the real enemy of humanity explaining why Rense and Inforwars are irrelavent to the PTB and are tollerated. The Truther journey has taken me to the Roswell case, mass alien abductions, JFK, RFK, MLK assassinations, TWA 800, Waco, Ruby Ridge, Oklahoma Bombing, Operation Gladio, CFR North Woods Plan, Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, democrats vs republicans Joos vs Muslims, Banksters vs regular folks, Gates and his hypodermic eugenics, Monster Monsanto, Chemtrails, GMO’s, Georgia Guide Stones Agenda 21 down to the not so smart meters and it all comes back to me, staring myself in the cosmic mirror.
Where does this agenda driven connected history take us? Is
there a way to fight the incomprehensible and what does that fight look like? The
bottom line as Truthers is if we don’t wake up and smell the coffee, yours will
be served in a Halliburton camp line up, while wondering if your separated children
are ok.
Smelling the coffee entails using your brain and god given bandwidth
consciousness talents, not as we were taught on the way to your MBA, but like
our ancestors who used super states of consciousness and a functioning
relationship with reality (which so far has eluded us), ancestors who left us the
brain-wrenching enigmatic stone-megaliths wake up reminder, which we do not
have the ability to replicate today. The difference between us and the ancients
and their super states of consciousness is the DMT God molecule (see Rick
Strassman and Terrance McKenna). Anyone who has lit a DMT pipe will tell you
our human brains are capable of processing 10,000 years of intense experiential inputs in
only ten frikin’ minutes.
No, we do not have to go find a drug dealer to get a hit of
DMT; we have our own onboard supply latent in our atrophied brain glands. The golden
brain glands (pituitary and pineal) can be quickly rejuvenated and there is a
simple technique that you can easily learn (natural and like a duck taking to
water) to achieve these glandular secretions and super states of consciousness.
Do not think for a minute this is a difficult task or one out of your reach…. How
hard was it for you to learn how to pass gas? The body innately knows how to do
this and it’s like breathing. Each glandular secretion you achieve with the pituitary
gland, promotes an even larger does of brain chemicals on your next effort. You
will get to a point where you do not need to effort any more and the secretions will be
going on all day for you.
The minion elites serve so called gods with access to the high
bandwidth golden brain chemicals and the only way to deal with them is to rise
to their level and beyond. The logic rationale these entities have for de-populating
this beautiful planet is that, “if they are not using their brains, we can
treat them as if they are creatures without brains.”
The NWO Perps behind the litany
of carnage listed above did not come up with this nefarious agenda but willingly carrying
it out for the “small g” gods. The small g gods are the same bastards described
in the Sumerian texts; they designed our royal flush DNA, they have been here all
along and are now coming back en-mass and are competing for the earth’s resources
which includes your DNA.
To control us, the church and state kept this esoteric
knowledge from us, leaving us crippled in a consciousness lobotomy and without the
personal resources needed to be cosmic participants in the game called life. The
transcendent key was here all along. The Caduceus symbol, worn by the nurses
and EMTs is the transcendence schematic telling us how to secrete the golden
brain glands and kick up the brain bandwidths to get into the game called life.
The Caduceus shaft is your fluid filled spinal column; the snakes are
your body muscular structure used to push the fluid up into the pituitary gland
(disk), the wings are when we take flight from the normal state of consciousness to super states of consciousness. This technique is easy to do for anyone, easier every time you do so and after a while when the golden brain glands are rejuvenated, they will basically go on autopilot secretions as you go about your day as long as you are active.
Fukushima, Passamari, Spring
ReplyDeleteBow-legged two-legged, leaning on his hoe
peers for garlic, late, beneath the plum.
Shirt cuffs splay like stalling wings in wind.
He veers a stretch of sky between limbs
and bed, tallying spears as if a golden
gauging hares. Planes his friends insist
don't spray poison for many good reasons
and returning geese persist against
the pelt of fronts. A neighbor's tom
deserves his adulation. Clouds decay
to cumulus and haze when no fields burn.
A fat mouse dies without a kick in yellow grass.
Orach cotyledons pool in paths like blood.
Early spinach vernal under hog fence hoops
and plastic from the dump needs safe water
from the county's deepest well. Still, rain
threatens, at a hundred counts per minute,
not him so much but kids who play next door.
When did the world's backup generators seize?
The missing witness, shoeless on the tape,
muttering, stumbled- on by mistake
in a landfill heap. And this newest war,
when were there debates? He leans on stone
to sort intrusive roots from wanted stock.
One wind whips the town's flags all directions.
Doves weight air a gray he shoulders
like a bar. Admitting defeat so late and far
from sanctuary waves, snow geese argue
security measures all the way to straw. Truth
is north and hurts worse faced head on.
Land a million peasants hoed subsides
while dying aspens turn a silver he can't save
and nations crash in gardens like the sea.
Aerosol merges white in ionized sky
when sun unwinds in tongues that peel his ears.
Teetering worlds lose bearings like bickering geese.
He takes the dog whose eyes yearn for a walk.
She shows him when you turn you're halfway home.
That's quite a pen you wield Rockpicker.
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