SECRET HUMAN BUSINESS

 

 

   

                                       

 

 

     

     

     

                                                                        

 

 

                                                          A Few Notes For The Aspiring Mystic

 

    This is dedicated to the bottom feeding mystically ignorant bastard/bitch, and the high flying cosmic genius and Self/Source seeker, who absolutely dwells dualistically, personally, and cosmically in and out and beyond of one, all at the same time. This is for the Jekyll and the Hyde, and the beast and the angel, and the self and the Self, who supposedly dwell inside of the human skin only.

 

    This is also dedicated to the task of getting some relief from the horrible boredom of being nothing but a fucking human. In a shit fucking boring, shit fucking ultraviolent, full of good and bad people, world. When nothing in this world entertains one anymore, because they’ve seen/heard/read or dun it 50 fucking times before, then drastic steps are required. To blast off into a new genre that really does fit the bill, and stimulate the sensual senses, somewhat. To write some feel good mystical spoof, and to stay right away from murder and war, and crime and romance, and dramas and car chases and people chases and dogs chasing people, and fireballs and roots up against the wall scenes, and all of the rest of that shit, is the idea. To swing the consciousness pendulum away from its fascination with fucked up darkness and what’s not working, back to the Light and what is working and has always been working, and always will be, is the trajectory. To have some mystical fun for fucking once, is the prime aspiration of many a human heart, and to give that the treatment, is the dream.

 

    After approximately a 9 year exposure to the writings and insights of Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj, one of the most exceptionally gifted and supremely expressive Gurus that this planet has ever known, the following was written more or less as a dialogue to myself. For clarification and further instructional, and for falling more and more and more in love with the Real or the Light purposes. Really, this has nothing to do with anyone else, as it is just a personal business dream between and involving this I of a body mind machine, and the impersonal Absolute. Perhaps! If one desires to precipitate a massive shift in one’s consciousness, then one should write one’s own bloody existential and mystically entertaining-relieve the boredom, self help script. Rather than trusting some other wayward mind’s feedback take on It, the Real. Shouldn’t one? Especially as to trust no cunt/prick, seems to be the 21st century ethos, and all of that. I mean. How can anyone trust another dualistic mind tool, when they struggle like hell all day long, to trust their own? To keep them sane, in an insane fucking world. That is.

 

    Whatever cosmically wakes one up from this stupid  bloody nonsensical dreaming, in this stupid bloody dreamtime, is a lot more real than words. Mind made words can neither reach nor take one to the Real, or one’s divine Source Light, but they can point out the way there. The description ‘the Light’ conjures up something that is awesomely mind blowing, soul custard nice, and absolutely chock full of the timelessly divine unconditional love gear, or the bliss. Which is the way it should be. What does a soul really and truly want? They want to get rid of their rotten existential weighty load, that’s bringing them down, again and again, and fucking again. They want to get High, and stay High for fucking ever, they do. They want to stitch their matrix up and take a timeless- absolute freedom and liberty swim around, in the endless spiritual ocean of the unconditionally welcoming and divinely lovee dovey, mystical bliss stuff. That is the common mystical/spiritual Source. In other words, they want to jack this fucking wayward mind tool fucking shit off, and go fucking HOME. Don’t they? Because it is time for every so called human to go HOME, by bringing HOME down to the Earth level now. Isn’t it? So that the human thing can switch from a fun less getting worse/worse/worse pattern, to a fun filled getting better and better and better one. For fucking once, in the appalling ultraviolent history, of the lusciously gorgeous and exquisitely beautiful rock that people call Earth. Bring on cosmic consciousness, and fuck the super greedy and super fucked up and super violent, super top ego heavy, full of cock and bull and clitty clap trap, self consciousness, off. Is the story, and for the human now and their melt down of a planet, there can be no other. STORY.

 

    There isn’t a drop of truth in this unholy diatribe comrade. There can’t be, because in a third dimensional human conceptual dreaming reality, like exists upon the Earth, all so called knowledge is mind fabricated hooey. Anything that is invented or imagined by the mind is hooey, including this universe, and its nation states, and what humans take to be real is decidedly most unreal, at the level of the Real. To put the Real or one’s Source Light into unreal words is absolutely impossible, but the entertainment value in even a rudimentary attempt at it is simply  irresistible, and so life goes on. Supposedly. We all dream on, because there’s fuck all else to do, in a dreaming set up. Except but to WAKE UP to what is really going on, re the dreaming, that is.

 

    Dick and Dora are the male and female counterparts in this one’s brain here. Don’t get alarmed whenever they come into the picture! They won’t be coming around to one’s joint to rob one, or mug one, or to bugger one up the arse. Fortunately for some who probably need it to shake their foundations somewhat, and unfortunately for others, who are probably doing it too much anyway.

   

    Every cosmic being does all of the dumb things on the way to becoming a Goddess or a God, and the  transcendence of that conceptuality, and a cosmic sense of humour is an essential prerequisite for such a course. Any human who doesn’t know that is a fundamentalist baby soul twit, and they are missing out something shocking when it comes to the 21st century soul’s dash for the future bliss.

 

    What in fucking hell is the Real? How does the average half decent citizen come to grips with such a fucking out there concept? Do they stick a middle finger up their bum holes, and jump around whooping and hollering like an Apache? Or a Sue. Who is about to mount their trusty black and white steed, and go on the warpath. No they don’t! They’ve gotta do some mystical work on their brainwashed and alienated from the Real psyches, and they’ve gotta ride their mystical horse. That is what they have to do. Don’t they Dora? Don’t they Dick?

   

    According to Wikepedia; the Real refers to that which is authentic, the unchangeable truth in reference to both being/Self and the external dimension of experience. It is also referred to as the infinite and absolute - as opposed to a reality based on sense perception and the material order.

  

    Again, it is emphasised that this is just some BORED OZ DUDE writing to himself, and splitting his psyche into its respective male and female poles. The cosmic bastard is just trying to cosmically gee himself up, to make a 21st century soul’s dash for the Light. That’s all! He is not talking to any fucker in the so called real world, thank God. On the contrary, the fucker is pep talking to himself, and attempting to turn his mind tool away from the Earth illusion, and back to face the Source Light. He’s gunning for a mystical showdown with the Real, at high noon near the cosmic stables, and me Dora and me Dick, who fucking isn’t? In this appalling and abominable and sometimes exquisitely beautiful, terrestrial place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

               The Cosmic Bullshit Begins, And The Earth Lives Up To Its Anything Goes Reputation

 

    The most secretive thing about secret human business is that the absolute truth is that there are no humans. There are only tube like appearances in a play in consciousness movie, which like waves upon an ocean’s surface, come and go endlessly across a dreamscape. That is, any Guru worth their salt will tell one that there is no one really who is really and truly living a single life, as a single wave that is separated from the ocean of consciousness that bore it. They will say that the little self will driven ego wave is sheer mind evoked or projected illusion, a physical dream that is not physical behind the scenes, and nothing else, and that there are not billions of singular human lives going on. They will say that the truth is that there is only ONE life going on, behind the matrix that they call maya, and that whilst this ONE life or Self or the true Real or the Nameless One or one’s Source or It, or God if one wants or whatever, is decidedly not human in essence, because It is formless and timeless and has no I am and no conceptual attributes, It is by proxy in all human hearts, and in between them too. It is stretched over the span of this physical, astral and ether universe, and all of the others too, and It permeates every dimension known to the soul. Apparently! It is the inner and the outer and the beyond gear, from which everyone and their mother and their cat and dog and horse and chooks and menstrual cycle and prostrate problems, and everything else in their world and universe hail from. As manifested forms that dance around mind screens, either enjoying or suffering, according to their dreamtime circumstances. This It or the Real rules apparently. Not God.

    It this Light the unbelievable and incomprehensible Real is the Nothing, from out of which everything that is the micro and the macro blooms, before dying back into the Nothing. It is the unseen from which that which is seen comes, and the unknown from whence the known comes, and it is the un manifested that powers all manifestation. It is beyond the mind which must cordially evaporate to reach It, and It is coming in and out of the here and now upon the timeless moment, and the secret of all secrets is that behind the matrix, It is who one really is. It is the common divine Source of all human beings. It is the Self and the Real, and a quiet mind can attune to It and be super tuned up and enlightened by It. Thru the agency of the I amness or sense of existence, that is common to every living creature-consciousness vehicle in this universe. Who has the I am being bug in them.

    What is the hot hot hot word that sums up this It who is everybody and all universes and the beyond too, but who cannot be summed up by a mere mind made word? The Light sounds good and take a pair of existential scissors and cut out the shape of any human being from the big picture that is this world in this universe, and there the Light will be exposed. Cut out the sun and pull it down from out of the sky and pee on it just for a bit of sizzling fun, and there the Light will be seen as a super big and super bright hole in the sky. Light! Light! Light! It is all Light behind the scenes, but the mind has got a filthy dirty habit of plastering make believe pictures all over the surface of one’s Source, and then believing them to be separated and solid and real, and what in the hell can a human victim of such outlandishly trashy I am inner only ego programming do about that? Apart from enduring a shock load of illusions and far too many ignorant people, before they snap out of it that is their lousy dreaming, and wake up to what is maybe really going on.

    Like how the mind can project the oceanic super subtle watery ether subjective that one’s Source pumps out, and then identity jump into its projection using a body full of downloaded life consciousness, whilst rudely proclaiming that the subjective that it has projected is a dead set, heavy matter objective ‘world’, sort of stuff. What galactic bloody rubbish! What cosmic twaddle of the highest order. When the oceanic super subtle watery ether subjective that one’s Light is exuding is all that there really is, and it is a zillion times closer to who one really is, and the objective creation is just a lot of cleverly imagined holographic hooey. Pure mind spin so that souls can get their sensual rocks off, if they don’t get them existentially crushed by their own mind tool, or blown off by the terrorists or the mad government first.  Spin that is derived from cosmic memory and cosmic habit and mind tool created space/time trickery, and the soul’s almost inexplicable desire to experience physical sensuality. Spin that is also chock full of too many ignorant humans, and a lot of beautiful people. No doubt about it citizen, the mind is a cosmic wanker. First class.

    When it comes to being a divine con artist, it is hard to beat the @#%$&*!# mind tool. It can make one think that ether water is rock or flesh or blood and bone, or beloved manipulative pussy, or horribly dangerous biggus dickus. Or a politician or a mystic, or ice cream or chocolate, and that’s its crime. When it does the absolute divine crime and turns nothing into matter and projects a particular universe full of green fields and worlds and hetero and homo sexual whores galore, where there really aren’t any, there’s just the One life fucking around with a bit of existential dreaming, then it does the solid time that it has made up for its dream journey. As a human or an alien or a whale or a dolphin or a mighty fine pussy, or a common doggy with a terrifically neat little brown eye, or whatever. Meaning, alas, for all  former ignorant types and awakening mystics, that who one really is at Source gets dragged down down down to the nth. To travel down down down the cosmic snakes and ladders board and the subtle to gross Grace scales, is the human slob’s story. Down to the nth! Ploop! Wahhhhh! Hello cruel world! Gidday you fucker! I am Dora. I am Dick, and I am more fucked up than Afghanistan, I am. I am black dogged from sole of foot thru anus to apex of cranium, I am. That’s the way it goes. Too often. When one’s Source Light gets hyper downloaded and hyper imploded, into the terrestrial’s missing links territory.

    Into mind’s crazy false third dimensional holographic party, or play in mucking consciousness. Where knowledge of the Real Self is just about totally lost in the absolute lack of pre birth memories, in  just about the dirtiest hologram that a bunch of universal kid souls has ever invented. Is it ever. A lost in a lost world trip that the poor bastard or bitch of a brainwashed human must go through. Most come down the Grace slide astral arse first and a lot faster than the speed of light, that’s the truth. Then again, a dirty hologram can sure test out a kid soul’s love for the blessed Light, their Source. Can it ever, and what spurs a soul on a trillion times more towards the Real than anything of a material nature on this ribald Earth can? Getting it on tutti frutti like with one’s Source Light does, apparently. When one dances with the Supreme, it all goes well, the true Gurus say. That even just to talk about the Real is bliss. All of that yummy birth less and deathless, and endless and timeless divine love and Light, being who one really is, and who everybody else and everything else is too, behind the maya matrix, and all of that cosmic identity stuff. Can make one feel pretty good and super cosmically secure, on the odd occasion. When one drags the mystically old and existentially emphatic; I am not just a single and solitary human programming, I am still really the pre birth inner and outer gear, from out of the mind’s cosmic closet, that is. Waking up isn’t hard to do and one doesn’t have to acquire anything at all to become illuminated. They just have to short circuit the inherited and unbelievably rigid belief that their entire consciousness is just in a single human body, by letting go of all of the mind tool’s invented and imagined conceptual hooey. I am a human woman, I am a human man being baby soul stuff, to its programmed in core.

    Another body dies and the people left behind either rejoice wholeheartedly for either cosmic or personal ego reasons, or lament and cry at the bod’s passing. For the deceased was loved and their former guts were not hated as a human bod, and the character that they portrayed in this dreadful and sometimes beautiful mind made Earth movie, was appreciated. By at least some, who must soldier on wiping the poo out of their bums. Periodically. Meanwhile, the always smiling behind the scenes funeral directors count their precious bucks, whilst the one who is ‘dead’ and is absolutely free of a too dense material body, and who doesn’t have to wipe shit out of a dirty smelling arsehole anymore, or bleed from anywhere, or endure madly violent humans and their mad atomic bomb armed societies, and who is swimming around their shore less ocean again like an ethereal dolphin, with cosmic  freedom and liberty galore rammed up its astral arse, is normally pretty damn fucking happy. Who wouldn’t be? When getting it on with their unbelievable cosmic release, from the human’s dreadfully insipid and mega dense, sometimes beautiful, mind tool made, 3D planetary hologram.

   

 

   

    Death, or reverting back to being 4D again, me Guru reckons, is usually a great festival and fear of it is only mortal ignorance and a product of atrocious mind programming. Where a limitation model is rammed down one’s so called God created throat from birth to death, and any true Guru worth their salt will tell one that. No one dies, because no one’s true Source Light really lives, only mind’s myriad show up and grow up and fade out body projections do, is more the truth. What survives in a dreamer’s dreamtime? Nothing bloody does! Even blood dries up and goes black as the night and dissipates back into the ether air. How can one describe the residual of what remains after the entirety of one’s Earth dreaming then? Absolutely nothing! Fits nicely. Like a slippery dick sliding up a newly bought K Mart shirt sleeve, that conceptuality resonates.

    Why bust your guts for nothing then comrade Dora? Why bust your guts for nothing then comrade Dick? That is the question in a realm where no one does anything at all really, except the One life. Who does it all and a lot more too, thru the pure I am chemical. Should one then shift one’s Dora and Dick focus from dreamtime material doing, to the mystical glory inherent in simple being? Yes one should arseholes. They should focus exclusively and meditate on the pristinely pure I amness that permeates the universe and is in one and every bloody thing else, instead of hanging out with the inherited abstract and false I am this or that mind tool made and alphabetically drawn up conceptual descriptions, that are hanging around every corner in one’s personal psyche. I am the body, I am the mind, I am thought, I am emotion, I am possessed by demons and all of the rest of that shit, needs to be bulleted. Quickly too. One should fuck all of those stupid dreamtime affirmations off, and get back to the mystical basics thru the pristinely pure I amness that is in one’s entire being. Shouldn’t they? Dickhead! Dora head too. You are soul come down Light Dick! You are soul come down Light Dora! So is every other citizen and their granny in your unbelievably gross, galactic shit hole. Wake up and realise with It, that you are still It, and can never not be It, and not only will all go well with one, it will go well with all of the bitches and bastards who surround one too. Because one will want absolutely nothing at all from them, and one will never ever perpetuate a cruel rip off con of them, or do violence against them. Or love – hate them. The karmic lights in front of one then will be green green green to the nth, all of the way back to one’s Source Point. What does the Real need to support It? It needs nothing, and I am nothing coupled with I am nobody and I am no body is simply irresistible to the 21st century mystic. Isn’t it?

    So there is a lot more of the true reality in the mind tool programming I am nothing, than there is in I am something. I am a human being is actually conceptual construct rubbish, that crystallises as a human matter body in the middle of one’s universal mind field , and the sooner a human realises that, the better for them. Like better to the nth stuff too. Have your being outside of the body me Guru said, and by Christ when one does that, it’s cosmic party time it is. Christ did it, and that’s why he was at the Supreme level that he was at. Ditto for the rest of the cosmic consciousness bunch. Buddha and the rest of them, that is. What did they do that put them so far above the rest? They fucked off all of the baby soul, I am inner to a body/mind machine programming, and got it on with the I am the inner and the outer and the beyond gear again, they did. What happened then after the cosmic greats wiped their divine bums on this planet for the last time? The humans started off religions based on the notion that some conceptually imagined God is going to show up in a blaze of glory, in their dreamtime and mind tool conjured up futures, and save their fearful and existentially spooked arses. The opposing conceptualised mind tool invented and imagined dualistic Devil in them has got them all on the run then, for sure. The Sadguru or inner Guru who actually does show up as a wee sparkling glint in the corner of one’s illuminated and liberated eye, after one has themselves done the mystical/spiritual hard to shit easy yards, doesn’t even rate a mention. In any house of bricks. Figure that one out! Pass the existential saviour’s buck and wank the soul’s projected corpuscle from here to doomsday. The humans sure know how to do that, don’t they comrade? What should they really be telling people on the six o’clock news? They should be telling them that God isn’t gunna save anyone, and that this is a save oneself by finding one’s Self as the Real again, planet. Shouldn’t they? To forget about God and to track to Source by avoiding all cosmic snakes and sticking to the cosmic ladders, being the way to go.

    Go beyond! Always too. Because that’s what the Real does. It spreads love and Light and affords souls the pastimes of conjuring up darks sides. With mind tools that throw out a dualised objective, from the non dual subjective.

    A wave ‘dies’ and pops back under the surface of a shore less ocean, and rejoins the cosmic party going on there, and 50 trillion more waves pop up above the great ocean’s surface, for a bit of a play in consciousness. Is more how it goes, in a universal set up. What’s the crying by the coffin about then? Do the crying really deep down in their psyches want to be back where the deceased has buggered off too? Because maybe they don’t believe the mad State’s life be in it propaganda, or dig wiping shit out of their animal bums that much. Or having to handle a brainwashed and half crazy mind tool, decade after decade. Or are they shitting themselves? Because their days of sweltering under a too hot summer sun, or freezing their box or nuts off in winter, are numbered too. A funeral scene is a cosmic airport terminal, and a human ought to be deliriously happy and crying for joy for the supreme good fortune of the one who has cosmically flown out. Because they can never really be separated from the ones left behind, because they were really the One life, disguised as a good or bad, or a good and bad human. Exactly like the sleeper ones left behind in this physical jungle, who must go on wiping poo out of their bum holes, are. The dead are way out of the Earth’s unbelievably ignorant and ultraviolent mind tool created nonsense, and they are the lucky ones. It makes more sense that the dead should cry for the so called living, because the so called living live in a far denser realm. Where the life force can be corrupted and perverted and  crushed beyond all reason. By human cock and bull nonsense. What a pity then that a healthy body/sick mind suicide carries with it too much hard slog rebound do it again karma, whilst slow slog endurance and adherence to the divine love invested in one’s Source Light pays off super wonderfully in the end. That’s what me Guru reckoned anyway.

    Look then into any half decent mirror and empty out the crappy inherited conceptual content of the mind in an instant, and summon from the subterranean cosmic depths of the ol’ psyche, a drop of the old cosmic intuition juice. That one possesses in abundance, as a spirit of the oceanic and universal consciousness. Check it out Dora! Check it out Dick! One is in an ignorant cocksuckers and an ignorant motherfuckers, and an assorted mixture of ignorant lunatics, mixed with a whole lot of the beautiful people’s, consciousness duality. Evidently, war and peace characterise this appalling dimensional polarity. Where the abysmal stupidity and the astonishingly inherent creative genius that characterises one’s species, just goes on and on and on. In an environment, where because one is in a polarised duality, one cannot experience anything, without also entertaining its opposite. Pain alternates with pleasure, love with hate, excited fearless desire for mortal life goes with a paranoid fear of and disgust and boredom with mortal life, and on and on into doomsday the opposites go. Can one’s entire being in a duality then, be exclusively inner to the blood and guts workings of the body that one’s consciousness is hosting? Could it be that the I am the inner and the outer and the beyond programming, which was just about totally lost when the body/mind machine was born, is the real honest to God and absolute truth? Whilst I am inner to the body only is conceptually corrupted programming, and adulterated crap, of the highest order. Albeit, mind tool spin junk.

    Is that really and truly a human being there in that flipping mirror then, or is it just one of the mind’s myriad projections? Is it dead set one’s fucking body? Belonging exclusively to one’s ego and whole being. Or does it belong really to the universe of oceanic consciousness that is sustaining it, with the involuntary breathing and heart pumping, and a dash of mind spin and so forth stuff?  Is it just one of trillions upon trillions of vehicles spraying out from one’s divine Source, which has been grossly conned by a mind, when the mind is meant to be just a play thing tool of the soul? Whose function is not to fuck up with existential depression and existential madness, and a lot more sadness and existential sorrow and suffering than the universe can handle, but rather to merely provide for a bit of half decent cosmic entertainment. Upon the highway back into the blessed Light. These are some of the questions which the mystic must answer for themselves in quiet solitude and with a honey blank and dead still mind, because no other entity in existence can answer them for them. Only their beloved inner Sadguru can. God can’t, because he is too busy with universal managerial affairs, and neither can the Goddess. Because she is likewise engaged and when she asks who am I, she gets a universally emphatic I am Goddess, and that would keep just about any woman happy. Not the mystic bitch though, because she is destined to go way beyond the Goddess in the 21st century, and all of the way back into her lusciously adored Source Light. She is.

    The answer to who am I really kills all fear and pain and desire, for both girls and boys, but until the answer is found the fear and the pain and the ego’s insatiable desires and the mind’s incessant questioning re the meaning of life and its vicissitudes,  will not stop. In the end it will be exposed that the whole exercise is just the Self chasing ItSelf thru the little mind tool made self construct that is the human, and a lot of people can’t handle that and burn out with it. Because they just want to be a successful and secure human ego. When the cosmic facts are that there are no successful and secure human beings loaded up with ego conceptuality, there is just the One life. Seeking ItSelf thru the timeless bit of divine love juice, that It has stuck into every human heart. What a game then that the Self has come up with to entertain Its Self, and how unbelievable is the timeless Real gear? It loses Its Self absolutely, and then  It absolutely finds Its Self again, as a fucking human being. What a mega mind blowing, intrinsically mystical, cosmic game. Hey kids?

   

 

 

 

    Who one really is then at one’s Source point is absolutely lusciously gorgeous, unbelievably mega brilliant stuff less stuff, that is made out of divine love and Light. It one’s Source is in every dot in the lot, and It is in the collective lot and the beyond, and one must adapt as an apparent human and fervently respect that, or one will fuck up and bury themselves under a shit pile of negative karma. They will. Negative karma involves re runs and it is chock full of the do it again gear, and that absolutely bores the mystic shitless. It does. Besides that, the violent never ever ascend in consciousness. Rather, they stick to the 3D-4D matrix like blowflies do to fly paper, and they re run that to be indirectly or directly violent doesn’t pay out. Not in the mystical to spiritual stakes. One cannot transcend into the ethereal super subtle and super conscious fields and beyond by being super Earth gross. It is pretty simple really that what one puts out comes back at one in multiple measures. Even a duck could understand that, but a lot of so called humans can’t. To understand it is why every half decent Guru or prophet that has ever shown up on this forlornly beautiful rock has preached absolute non violence. On a holographic planet full of too many violent types, who are running their psyches off the false and super selfish I am inner to the body only programming, with the absurd ego spin,  I am doing God’s wrathful work affirmation inherent in it,  one has to take one’s hat off to them for that. The cosmic prophets had divine guts in a mad mad mad world, and who in this hell/heaven hasn’t?

    Existentially cut out a fresh dog turd from a street pavement, if the inclination seizes one, and there the blessed Light behind the turd will be exposed. Cut out a picture of one’s mum or dad, or the ignorant who raped the old lady, or one’s brother or sister, or friend or foe, or soul mate lover of the century, or one’s footy team, and it will be just another mucking re run of the same old story. Because there, in all of those characters cut outs, good or bad, one will find the same Light of the One life that one really is at one’s Source. Is one God then? Or the Goddess? No! They are just big time cosmic helpers for one’s Source Light. For who one really is behind all manifested matter appearances, that is.  When one returns to Source, one goes way past those universal character types. Apparently, they are just inbuilt universal manager boys and manager girls, and every universe has one or the other of their programming. Whilst at Source one is all universes and all Goddesses and all Gods. Plus whatever the muck is beyond them too. As a matter of fact, to always go beyond whatever moronically ignorant cock and bull convention exists seems to be the mystic’s fuel, and the Earth can be a dead boring hole, and then at other times it can be a pretty interesting place, and that’s what a mind projected consciousness duality is all about.

    Souls like to bounce electron packed things around this or that planetary bedroom, whilst they cosmically sort themselves out. There’s no doubt about that and the new deal has just been set up comrades. Because I am just in a human body/mind machine is horribly boring and totally false and a right depressing fuck up of a death trip, as any limitation set up anywhere in the universe using any body form is. Whilst the divine and honey sweet and lusciously gorgeous and ever so truthful I am the inner and the outer and the beyond programming, is absolutely wonderfully entertaining stuff. Wunderbar plus and pre birth manna and blow the ever loving mind from here to kingdom come gear it is, and doesn’t everybody who still has half a brain left on this rotten to the core and sometimes beautiful rock know that? Does the leader up there in their public polished suit know it? If the leader doesn’t know it, what chance is there for the populace to gain awareness of it? Sweet fuck all! Is probably the correct answer. Forget politics which is all about ego advantage and go mystical, is therefore the wisest course for a human to follow. To that point where they will end up following only the spirit of the One life. Whom they really are at their Source Light, and whom they will become again, as they go HOME.

    Any true Guru with a drop of blood still left in them, will say that this timeless It the Light the whole lot is really who one really is. Behind the atrocious illusion of being just a single human body/mind machine, atrociously bound up in an often exceedingly atrocious, sometimes luscious and gorgeously beautiful, dualistic world. This is the only real good news that one will get on this extraordinarily dense to extraordinarily subtle consciousness planet. When the good news comes with the ever awakening realisation that the good news is not fanciful out there bullshit, and  that the absolute truth is that one really is the hyper imploded and super downloaded One life mucking around, with the entertaining prime chemical I am and its mind projected holograms (some of them pretty dirty ones too)...well.....humans call that enlightenment. The One life seems to be playing a lose the Self in a download into a little human self, find the Self again in an upload of the little human self game, and one has no choice but to play this cosmic game. Chase the fucking Light! That’s what souls do. Even death doesn’t get one out of the Self’s game, and one’s true Self will never let one’s little ego self rest properly, until one has 100% woken up from one’s lousy human dreaming, and fully realised that they are still the Real. That is written on some people’s bums. Political bums especially.

    When it is known that at Source one is timeless life and made out of divine love and Light, and that there at that point one never dies whilst billions of holographic bodies do, and when it is comprehended that this sometimes beautiful hell ball Earth is just a dreaming movie where holographic stuff fades away and doesn’t last, just like in the astral, when all of that is understood, what is there then to get upset about? When one is really the big picture and the beyond, and not the dreadfully cosmically imploded and downloaded suffering little itty bit wave called a human, which is but mind tool junk superimposed upon one’s divine surface or skin, then what can possibly go wrong in such a magic and perfect set up? Where one is always the One life, and can never not be the One life, no matter how much one implodes and downloads and sleeper dreams that they are just a cosmically lost and existentially separated wave surfing the dark night of the soul. Instead of still being the entire ocean of pristinely pure consciousness, that is exuding out of one’s Self. Absolutely nothing can go wrong when one is always the Source Light, no matter how brutally savage the wave’s dreaming is, and absolutely nothing is just about the best conceptual description for the indescribable nature of who one really is at Source. Every human, good or bad, believe it or not, is a dimensionless point of divine love and Light behind the scenes, is the Earth’s story. Every human is a wave of the same shore less ocean of consciousness that the Light exudes, and their mind is a drop of that consciousness, and the shore less ocean and the beyond of that and not the human ego rules the story, is the future.

    Follow the ocean of I amness which has the intuitive spirit in it for great mystical and spiritual success, keep following the top heavy ego for more miserably depressing failures, is about the gist of it. Even giraffes in  zoos know that these accelerating days, but some humans still don’t. They want to be Number 1 and conquer and rule this entire appalling world. With their stinkingly false picture of reality. When no tribe in history has ever done that, or ever will do it. What is the need anyway? When they’re already behind the matrix the One life, and the big mystical joke is on them. So long as they don’t, in the name of their mind tool conjured up and imagined God, drop a nuclear bomb on one’s illusion bound up head, that is. It may be an illusion bound up head, but it appears to be the only head that one has got at the moment. Hey Dickie? Hey Dors? There’s nothing like living in the fucking fast lane, on the edge of reality and in a valley full of mind tool conjured up insanity, and the skills that a human needs just to get to the corner shop these days, just to get a loaf of bread and a chockie bar and some bovine milk, befuddle even God. The Goddess shakes her head at that appallingly gross mundane Earth shit too. Then she says goodbye to God and takes off back to her universe, she does. Like Goddesses do, these days. Will she pop in again one timeless day for a bit of a cosmic chat and a cup of the old cosmic chai, with the real old divine boy? Even God doesn’t know the answer to that, on account of the Goddess being an absolutely unpredictable entity.

   

 

 

 

    It would also appear that It one’s Source the Real is having an absolute ball entertaining ItSelf, by being the macro and the beyond, and every point that is a micro in the cosmic big picture, simultaneously. Even a rock has consciousness, and one’s Source can get off by simulating the experience of being a rock, just as much as It can get off by simulating the experience of being a so called human being. Apparently. Unfortunately, whilst the One life is having an absolute ball timelessly entertaining ItSelf, the same could not be said for the existentially suffering human. Who 100% thinks that they are just a single body in a universe full of dirty rotten predators, and who is in just about 100% denial that they are still, behind the matrix scene and the mind’s unbelievable con job, the One life. Which has downloaded ItSelf so unbelievably far from true reality, that It thinks that It is just a tube shaped, fucking human being. Who is going to DIE! Sooner or later. Now that, if it were really true, would scare the pants off Satan, and the knickers off his missus too. No wonder that humans have problems with that rotten conceptuality then. Especially when they are running I am the death wish too much, thru their psyches.

    Consciousness, the stuff which It exudes, and which is space like and all pervasive and is always changing and likes to cling to matter like gladwrap, and which represents the so far known in the infinite unknown, and the mutable within the immutable, has trapped itself in a wave body and inherited a mindset where it runs only I am a wave body thru its psyche. It has totally forgotten to retain the truth of I am the ocean first, and the wave second, in its mind assisted and imagined holographic drop down download into the human movie, and that is why so many humans are currently suffering worse than dogs suffer. Their ignorance as to their true origins and their true inner and outer common Source being the common I am and the common beyond, is their great calamity. Because they will die without a hint of awareness that they are really the One life, which used a mind projected tube body, to have a bit of a muck around on a pretty mediocre planet. Their mystical cups will not runneth over, and for too many of them their crappy baby soul dreaming will go on. If one doesn’t want to be one of them, one has to get one’s arse onto a half decent mystical and spiritual path, and start waking up now. Asap. It has to be faced and totally accepted that the psyche’s equation and prime identity statement, that is, I am just a separated and solid body/mind machine person, is baby soul stuff, and about as far from the truth as one can get. To go mystical, to go really mystical, this baby soul’s programming must be destroyed and replaced with I am a lusciously gorgeous, shore less ocean of pristinely pure consciousness. I am collective ether water based, not I am separated flesh and blood and bone based, that is.

    I am a member of the 4D community of nebulous souls who hang out in the ether water of pure consciousness, as much as I am a member of the 3D Earth community. Of fucking human animals, who are fucking around with their own mind tool’s projections, in a heavy and dense and very slow in vibration, frequency set up. That is. I am in dire need of remembering to remember who I really am, where I have come from, where I am headed to, and what my real divine roots are. Is a bit of built in deep programming that needs to be accessed from one’s cosmic memory banks, and activated throughout the universe that is one’s psyche, or one’s mind tool’s real range. Real fast too Dick! Real fast too Dora!

    Conceptual negation, I am not the fucking body, I am not the bemused mind, etc, is one’s ticket out of all mind traps. Abundant fornication and money and mortal power and fame galore unfortunately, aren’t. That stuff is all illusion, and it is not worth a pinch of dog shit really. Because the only thing that really and truly interests the soul, is to slide back into the unbelievable cosmic high that is its Source Light. What is one’s Source Light really? Of course, it is one’s true HOME, and HOME, just like they say, is where one’s heart is. In the case of one’s Source Light, it is where one’s cosmic heart is. If one really and truly wants to go HOME, and then bring It back to ground zero, then the hooey conceptualised image that one has of being just a body with a personalised ego, must die sometime before the body does. Preferably; NOW!

    By shooting thru one’s psyche, I am double dead. Already. I am dead to the body, and I am dead to the mind and its bullshit moody contortions. Because both mind and body are artificial constructs, and I am not. When to pick up on that? For the benefit of the Mrs and Mr Kite, who is one’s tired of all Earth bullshit soul, do it NOW comrades! NOW! Don’t wait a bloody millisecond. Those who wait re run horribly boring and depressing third dimensional duality shit, and you don’t want to have to do that cosmic junk again. Do you arseholes? Ever want to have to come back to a cunt of a dickhead filled world like this one, and have to wipe shit out of a human body mind machine’s ring hole again. When you can cosmically fly around timelessly for free in the Light’s formless bliss, and stay right away from any Grace slides, or download implodes, why come back to this or any other 3D dualistic shit hole? Leave the Earth’s baby soul crap for the Terminator types my son, and get it on with the mystical, thru the prime chemical I am. That’s about all that I can say to you and Dora. Affectionately detach from the illusory body/mind machine and just witness everything impartially, like you don’t give a razoo which way it goes, and ramp up on the dispassionate and intuitive awareness that is the Light’s investment in your soul’s heart, and all will go well with you. Stick with the ego’s I am just a human body/mind machine only conceptualised poop arseholes, and you will remain a suffering worse than a dog mystical pauper. Just like the rest of them. Who will cosmically recycle in and out of this level, until they’ve bumped up their awareness as regards really being the One life and the Real, somewhat.

    Enlightenment to always being the Source, no matter what projections/thoughts etc are going on thru the mind is pretty hot stuff then, because one wakes up some from one’s bizarre unnatural dreaming and returns to one’s natural attitudinal state. Where one is inner and outer and aware that at one’s Source one is bodyless, beyond the mind, timeless, formless, birthless, deathless, beyond Goddess/God conceptuality, and made from divine love and Light. Where one is cosmically childlike and living in the exact magic of the moment, playing a magic cosmic game. Where who one really is is inconceivable, unimaginable, indescribable, unperceivable, fairly bliss like, and all the rest of it. Timelessly 100% happy always that is. Whereas no mind tool sliding back and forth across a shit fucker’s conceptualised duality can, or will ever achieve that. Up down, down up, and down again, re run all of the way to the dunny and back, is all that one will get with that dualistic space junk. Go the non dual instead, because it is every half decent 21st century citizen’s best friend. It is comrades. It really is.

    The best part about this dawning of enlightenment is not that one’s anger about being existentially stuck as a human, and all of the rest of one’s conceptualised baggage is obliterated, it is that one finally touches base with the best friend that one has got. That is, the divine love and Light that is emanating thru one’s Sadguru. Or one’s inner Guru. Who can sometimes manifest Guru type stuff outside of one’s body, for further waking up to who one really is purposes. This could be a real live physical being Guru, which is rare. Or it could be a book, or a paragraph in a book, or a painting, or a dance or a film or a friend sprouting insights. Or even spot on thoughts that come spontaneously from out of nowhere, and buzz thru one’s psyche. So long as it evokes in one the urgent desire to get it on with a decent spiritual/mystical path, so long as it sparks one to question all of one’s inherited conceptuality and destroy all that is false and creating trouble in one’s life, then it is Guru. Who is Guru?

    One is always Guru at one’s Source. What is Guru? Guru is to become addicted to the Light, and to become a transmitter for and of It. Again. Guru is the half decent citizen. Guru is mother, father, son and daughter, gran and pop, all of one’s cousins and aunts and uncles too. Guru is all of one’s mates, and enemies too. Guru is community and this tired old Earth is thirsty for the Guru juice to flow out of her citizenry’s pores, and verily arseholes, She is not going to wait much longer for the Guru to ravage Her. She’s absolutely dying to fuck the Guru, She is. Both the Goddess and God reckon. Wouldn’t you be, after hosting humans for millions of years? So my son, so Dors, it is well and truly time to go mystical. Isn’t it? It is time to Guru fuck one’s soul. Isn’t it? Don’t expect the leader to ring up and tell you to do it, or else he’ll send the cops around to write out another mystical bloody idiot’s citation. Do it y’self arseholes, and do it now! With I am the inner and the outer and the beyond fading into pure and pristine I am ness, which will naturally and spontaneously slide back into the I amless Real, you’ll not only conquer this universe with the divine love and Light that is invested in the soul, you’ll conquer every other one as well. Humans are conquerors, aren’t they? What about living up to your reputation then? Or are you just cosmic punks going nowhere in a stupid dreamer’s, stupid dreamtime? Just like the rest of them who are the dormant One life, asleep in their personally imagined, personal dream. Forget the fucking personal and take it to be a dream, and rock ‘n’ roll and rap with the Absolute. If you really want to have a good time in this shithole.

    Annihilate the dreaming person and wake up you Dick and Dora head! Now! Use your intuitive apperception and do it NOW! I can’t express it any clearer Dora! I can’t express it any clearer Dick! The language is soiled toilet paper, and it just won’t let me. Can it be said any better? Look Dora! Look Dick! Do you want the fucking Real back in y’fucking life? So that you can play it here as the One life whom you really are. Or do you want to keep on going on being a mind tool dreamt up imagined person construct, that is full of hogwash constructed conceptuality? Face it Dick! Face it Dora! For cosmic fuck’s sake! That mind tool imagined crap is killing you too slowly with I am an unworthy limitation system and a brute beast of a malfunctioning bitch, who deserves to be rubbed out by Satan and his whores and mad men. Or something like that, mixed with I am having a cunt of a time trying to handle a wayward mind tool, that has a utterly false duality shoved up its anus. In a hologram world full of abhorrent dickheads, too many agro sheilas, and a few good blokes. Like the Jolly Swagman, having a pleasurable wank down by his billabong. It’s up to you Dora! It is up to you Dick! I’m just two fingers and a pair of straining pupils, pressing plastic squares with conceptually imagined alphabetic letters on them, on a keyboard. I can’t make the decision for yuse. It’s up to you cunts. It is your mind tool made stupid galactic ball game, not mine. Nothing is mine, because I am nothing and I am nobody, I am. All I know is that if one really and truly desires to have the Real back in their multidimensional lives, then they must desire the Real, and absolutely nothing else. Furthermore you prick, the desire for the Real must be absolutely real, and neither flirtation or a simple/complex mind’s curiosity. The Real only comes again to those who are prepared to kill all I amness conceptuality. That is the law, because the Real has no I am, but It RULES! When it comes to who fucking goes HOME, and who fucking doesn’t.

    To find the Real again, one must be the Real again, because It the Real is the unknowable gear. It cannot be stood outside of and be perceived or observed. It can neither be conceived, nor imagined and the mind has to explode to reach It. It is the front of the mirror, the back of the mirror, the middle of the mirror, and It is beyond the mirror altogether, simultaneously. That is a bit of the Catch 22 stuff, when it comes to the mystical.

   

                                                        

 

 

                                                         

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                

 

 

 

                                                             Getting Out Of The Mystic Blocks

    There are apparently three great blocks to overcoming the supreme folly of taking oneself to be just a human, and further delaying the cosmic glory of fully waking up to who one really is, and becoming the Real again. The first is the inherited appalling and almost omnipotent, I am the named body/mind machine programming. The second is the I am better than conceptuality that is inherent in a programmed and socially brainwashed psyche, and the third and most important is one’s general attitude towards one’s Source dimensionless point. Which is made out of the divine love stuff that hangs around in and out of matter and space, mingled with the purest Light from the beyond that evokes and supports all life. Upon the surface of this Light from the Real, the true Guru says, all games and plays in consciousness are played out. Courtesy of the mind’s projections, and its phenomenal ability to manifest and display forms upon the surface of the formless. Is one onside or offside to the Real, who background hosts all shows? That is the omnipotent and prime question which sooner or later, every human and every soul has to deal with, infinitely deep within themselves.

 

Some More Questions For The Aspiring Mystic

    Is one in an existential huffy with and dirty on one’s beloved Source dimensionless point? For apparently, via a soul’s mind tool assisted holographic projection, downloading one into a physical tube on a hell ball planet. A tube that is maybe too often stressed out by a bemused and too moody mind, which is imbued with a sky high fear and desire content, and which can suffer dreadfully as it bounces around in between subtle and gross pains and pleasures. A tube that has to wipe its dirty stinking arsehole out, normally once a day, to stay relatively healthy. A tube that sprays words orally or some other way, and receives copious sprayed words, fired at it by the others who surround it. A tube that is a victim of a mystically nonsensical cycle of waking and sleeping and dreaming, and re run waking up. Into a hard yakka existential slog out with so called life and its too many spin off unbelievable vicissitudes. Again and again and again this happens. Doesn’t it Dora? Doesn’t it Dick? Groundhog Day like. One wakes up to endure a resurrection shuffle that frankly, mystically speaking, isn’t worth a spit in the cosmic bucket. Being nothing but the uncontrollable habit of universal consciousness to form up, and play silly mind tool implode games. Me Guru said once;

    “I have no use for any of this! It has come of its own accord, and it will go of its own accord.”

    Now bro. Now sister Dora. If you mystically interviewed the average human with a half decent intuitive intelligence running up the vertical thru their anus, and got to the nether pit of the conceptual quicksand in the middle of their psyches, that is existentially bogging them up, and maybe black dogging them, and mood downing them too much. Into yuk! I am gross cerebral depression, and I don’t want to live, and I don’t want to die either. How many of them do you reckon would say something similar to what I just told you that me Guru said? Like fuck this shit! I just wanna go HOME! Quite a few I reckon and some humans want to make a Heaven on Earth out of this dreamtime show, and others just want to go fucking HOME. By turning themselves mystically on and contributing wonderfully and gloriously to the super subtle divine plan, and by reverting spontaneously and naturally to the Real Self whom they really are, and making a Heaven on Earth. So that millions and maybe even billions can go HOME simultaneously. So comrade.

    Just the example of one human being here realising into cosmic consciousness enlightenment, could by example and mass exposure of their pathway cut back into pure consciousness and the beyond, lift billions of others up off the terrestrial floor. So that they too can accelerate rapidly into ascended consciousness, and finally jack off their banal anal carnal blues, and the shitty that they are in with the Real. For apparently casting them out and abandoning them. As maybe worthless pieces of limited and missing linked, ultraviolent and existentially bemused flesh, who deserve to become extinct. Naughty bad and evil rooting around humans, that is. Bad people they are supposedly. Because of the hideousness of their murderous dark sides, and their inability to cast out of their constitutions, the seven deadly sins. Which, as all of the mind tool’s conceptualised limitation strategies are, is an illusion of strictly third dimensional programming. Which rotates like a spinning wheel of ultra big trouble, around the I am a body/mind machine only idea. Which can run stuff thru its psyche like;

    I am the sceptical cynic! I am a God worshiper, at the same time. I am separate and alone, in a predatory universe. I am a wild matter beast only and one day I am gunna kill that bastard/bitch over there! Jesus!/Allah!/Thor!/Mein Fuhrer!/Hannibal!/My demons! Etc. Etc. Etc. They give me the shits, those cunts do! They are not the Self and the Real, just like I am really behind the scenes, at mystical Source. I am better than them! I am! I am therefore endorsed by God and my own psycho demons, to rub those dirty creations out. I am going to muster up all of my hatred inside of me and whoopee out hate with my gang, and I am gunna war with them, I am. I repeat, I am better than them, I am. They are not the same magical mystery tour of a shoreless ocean of watery consciousness that I am. Oh no! They’re fucking mud people they are, and I am better than them! God said so and God’s gunna give me a place in heaven, where I can sit on me arse forever, and get pats on the head forever, for taking out my own mind tool’s made mud people, when I was last a soul’s projected human being. Who am I? I am the son/daughter of the God of wrath, I am. Don’t fuck with me! Or I’ll blow your fucking head off. I’ll send a 60 million dollar taxpayer funded war machine around to take you out! Or Homer Simpson. Or some brainwashed 16 year old virgin with bad news putty strapped to her belly. I’ll fucking get you! I am the power that my wrathful God has transferred to man, I am. I am no manifested illusion. I am flesh and blood Rambo force, and a bit of a dark angel, with a universe full of conceptualised cock and bull spin rammed up me arse. I am.

    There’s a lot of humans dancing with that or something similar  these days. All of the way up the anus of their next lousy re run, they’re dancing. With their shit pile of inherited stinking conceptualised illusions. Right now. Millions upon millions of them are doing the existential ignorance jive. Billions maybe are doing it, with a backwash and low soul grade minority doing it more than others. Who knows? Who? When it is all over and said and done, and the war that really and truly ends all wars has been fought, who will rule this beautiful/horrible galactic dunghill. Will it be the Muslims? Or the Christians? Or the Jews? Or some reincarnation of Genghis Khan? Or one of his gorgeous missus? Or the Jehovah’s Witnesses? Or will it be women?  Who will finally dong the mad male beast on the top of his ultra ignorant, I am better than you inferring scone, so that they can take their rightful spot at the top of the mad pecking order, and play I am really better than you. For once. Who knows? I don’t Dick! I don’t Dora! I am just a puff of air here and there, and a touch of flippant consciousness that’s in between the body’s head and the computer screen. I know nothing really, and even the Real can’t predict what is going to happen in a dream. The Highgate rubbish collection gang could end up as the omnipotent and omniscient rulers of this rotten/beautiful mind tool made rock, for all that I know. I don’t think that it will be the Mormons though. Or any political party or bikie gang. It’ll probably just be the Light and the Real of the One life, like it always is. Hey? Unless you want to put a cosmic bet down on the Salvation Army. Or critters that don’t eat and shit like humans do, and who flog around in flying saucers. For genetic or monitoring purposes. Or just for the sake of having a flog around, that relieves the space boredom.

    Is one so far gone in this hell hole reality where beauty and horror hold hands quite often then, that they are categorically denying even that one has a Source dimensionless point? Is one 100% sceptic and saying that the I am the inner and the outer and beyond equation is just out there nonsense, and that the predominating illusory I am inner to a single body/mind machine conceptuality that humans use is the one and only ‘real’ gear? It is dangerous in a consciousness duality to deny the extent of one’s duality, however billions of humans deny that they are a zillion times as much outer as inner to their bodies, and because of that their lives are quite often just one misery after another. To the point that the odd Guru has pointed out that never is there so much life as after death, even if after death is nothing more than a continuation of a dreaming state. Albeit, a far more subtler one than the gross Earth presents.

   

 

 

 

    Is one existentially bitter at one’s Source? Would one like to punch the Real’s lights out and then slit Its throat? Like a fundamentalist full of hate for their own mind tool’s subjectively made objective enemy out there, does.

    Does one not like one’s Source? Thinking what kind of a mongrel of a Source would force one to drop down the existential grace ladder 20 zillion ether leagues, to suffer worse than a rabid dog? In Its created world full of horror and fear and pain, and the odd drop of beauty.

    Did one’s Source create one’s swine of an ignorant dickhead’s filled world? Where some of the beautiful people also hang out. That is, the cosmic sleepers who are maybe programmed to fully wake up mystically and spiritually, exactly when a too stressed out Earth planet needs them to. Or is one’s world a freelance vehicle created by freelance souls who are mucking around with mind tools, and the I amness stuff that one’s Source exudes?

    Is the Source to blame for human suffering? Or are pretty and ugly ignorant humans the real culprits? Because they identify as being bodies only, and they think up and believe in a lot of unbelievable existential conceptualised crap, particularly around the God idea. Which can make them as selfishly violent and as mucked up as all hell. It can turn them into psychos pretty easily, and the last thing that this rock needs is another psycho. Don’t you go going psycho on me again Dick! Or you Dora! You just listen up and act upon the mystical data that I am giving yuse. You existential fuckers! It is more than time to go mystical! Isn’t it you cosmic punks?

    Who has really done the dirty on who? Is it the Source who is excluding the human, or is it the human who is excluding the Source? With their inherited mind programming crap, which convinces them 99.99% that they are just a fucking body.

    What is the I am? Where does it come from, and where does it go to? How does it work? Does it rule in a sensationally disguised behind the scenes set up with the Real, and not God? Does God work for the Real? What about the Goddess! Who does she fucking cosmically work for? Want a clue Dick? Want a clue Dora? It’s not your mother! Or the holographic item who claims that they are the leader in your shire/state/nation. Or her/his mystically offside, war orientated lackeys. You won’t find the final answer in the middle of a Corn Flakes packet either. You’ll find it in the middle of the Nothing. Who does the mystic work for? They work for the Nothing, for nothing. Who doesn’t, as a short term and existentially projected entertainment vehicle of the Real?

    What do the Goddess and God actually do then? Do they keep the mind tool’s projected material objective, that is really spin subjective, glued together and intact? So that the soul games can go on. Do they look after creation, evolution and destruction? Whilst remaining completely impartial, as regards personally judging human actions. Do they just adhere to the inbuilt programming that the Real has installed in them? So that they can put their cosmic foot down, or lift it up mighty high, when it comes to the human karma issue. Do they programme enforce re runs for nonsensical and stupidly ultraviolent ignorant behaviour, of the worst kind? Do they also allow for the ascension of mystical matrix busters, who wish to fly the third dimensional coup and bust through the multidimensional layers, and get it on with the Real? Whom they really are at Source point.

    When one, by doing nothing except but attending to one’s sense of I am, has ascended out of the I am the body/mind ignorance, and dropped their existential shitty with the Real, and when one has totally opened up one’s heart again to the Real, and is absolutely divinely in love with Its Light again, is that enlightenment? Look Dora! Look Dick! If it isn’t, then what on this hell ball of a still beautiful planet is?

 

 

 

 

In summary then.

    All identity with the mind tool made body and its dream world, and all identity with the madly programmed mind’s mad contortions, has to go. They are not you Dora! They are not you Dick! They are not real! The mind got an alphabet shoved up its arse, by the others, and it learnt how to join letters together, to make things that are called by humans, words. Then it got taught to put words together to make concepts, and that’s when the trouble really got going. For the kid. From age 2 to 5, it all gets set up. Then the pattern that will be the destiny of that life  gets programmed into the mind, like some shit fucking sneaky back door hacker’s, deadly virus. Now Dick! Now Dora! If I am a human body mind machine of a person, who has been created imperfect by a perfect God, isn’t a fucking cosmic virus of the very worst and most incredibly dense, like you wouldn’t fucking believe, kind. Then I am telling you kids, I don’t know what fucking is.

    I’ve been around this universe for a while, and I’ve bummed around on a fair few planets, but I’ve never come across a more deadlier virus that the I am just a dualistic human one. If any soul in this universe wants to experience suffering and fear and pain, and to get to know those concepts really well, then this is the cosmic virus for them. It may be cosmically dreamt up and mind tool imagined rubbish from start to finish, but what happens with this imagined simulation can make or break a soul. When it comes to their 21st century dash for the future bliss. That is illumination and matrix busting awareness, and going HOME to become the Real again. Quite a natural transgression and transmission really. From Source to human, and from human back to Source again. Absolutely nothing to be existentially afraid of in that, for any Dora or Dick. Nothing at all.

   To have the ultimate cosmic success, and go HOME, is the destiny of every human, and counterpart soul. Because what comes out of the Source, will sooner or later be sucked back in by It. The so called journey cannot be stopped, but it can be delayed by ignorance, and it can be considerably delayed by considerable ignorance. To not be aware that what appears thru the physical senses to be out there beyond the eyes, is also one’s mind tool’s projection, in a collective pool of mind tool projections, which is one’s mystical Self as well, is misfortune. To do violence against any human, is to do violence against one’s mystical Self, and that is taboo for the mystic. It may not be for the politician or other serial killers, but it is for the mystic. To get in a decent 21st century soul’s dash for the future bliss, a gung ho mystical path and psychological model is needed. To give up all questions except who am I really and truly? And to attend to the sense of and prime chemical I am, is the go, for those in the know. Those in the know, know that there isn’t anything to know in a mind tool imagined and fabricated holographic dream, whilst the others think that it all real. It is as real as all fuck for them, and they know that they are going have to wipe the shit out of their arseholes again soon. They know that sooner or later they are going to have eat and sleep again, and fuck! Do they need money bad? Yes they do! Then after that, they wouldn’t mind a half decent root again, before they die. I am a humble human! Lots and lots know how to play that.

    It the mind did not get taught however that all of the learnt words are gunna conceptually spiral around the sense of pure I am, that has been temporarily caught up in a bodied up human bit of universal consciousness. Even worse, it the $%#^&*@! mind had no idea that the learnt and inherited concepts are gunna spiral around around and around pure I am, from waking unto blessed and sweet sleep, until they drive the human host just about fucking nuts. Because one cannot stop one’s thinking, once one’s mummy and daddy and brothers and sisters, and aunts and uncles, and gran and pop, and all of one’s friends and enemies too, and all of the rest of one’s society and community, get it going. Thinking however in a duality isn’t easy, and polarities are dangerous places. I am unworthy, I am worthy. I am not fucked and I am ok. I am fucked and I am not fucking ok. I am a special and pretty bit of human flesh, I am! Look at me you cunts/pricks! I am really something, I am. I am the body and thee personality of the moment, I am. I am a lump of terrestrially embodied up shit. Don’t look at me! I am a poor victim of my existential circumstances, and I am just not worth it. I am a Satanist, I am. C’mon Satan! Stick it up that God cunt! You can do it mate! Wipe those dirty low down rotten pricks/cunts out! They deserve it! I am a God abiding good bible abiding male/female, I am! C’mon God! C’mon God! Stick it up that Satan cunt/prick! (The ultra heavy, ultra deluded, ultraviolent, power hungry ego self that is.) You can do it God! You can do it! I can’t, because I am just a fucking limited human being. I am not perfect! Only you are God! You’re the BOSS! Not me, even though we have the exact same mystical Source. Don’t ask me how to save my own mind tool’s made up universe God. Christ! I don’t know how to do that!

   Picking which conceptuality, or mind tool invented and imagined cosmic crap, to hang out with, these days, occupies the minds of a lot of people. Who have a dash of the old I am good and I am bad and maybe even I am evil, shoved up their cosmic rings. Whilst at Source, beyond the I am that is, they are all individually and collectively the One life. Who merely watches from divine neutral thru the cosmic ether, without ever becoming sucked down into anything that even remotely resembles that concept that humans call drama. Whose big brother goes by the nickname of trouble.

    The concepts are abstract to who you really are as the One life. They are fabricated short term time bound articles which are subject to death in space, whilst who you are at Source is timelessly alive, and can never die. What has never been born, can never die, and that is always one’s timeless true reality. Right Dora! Right Dick! Explode your mind then to the edge of the universe, and then keep it going, and then bring all of that back in a millisecond to the mystical point that cosmically drew it all, and you’ll have a much fairer and a much more truthful conceptuality of who you really are. When you’ve got that conceptuality locked into your ozone layer, kill it! Then you won’t have need for this one anymore. I won’t have to write you any more little mystical love letters, that are designed to wake up a couple of down in the dumps Earth slobs. Like you and fucking Dora, Dick.

     Why you didn’t pick Venus again to have a bit of a romp on, instead of this lunatic’s asylum, I’ll never know. Nice sheilas on Venus, and tell you fucken what, I could have cosmically hung out there a bit longer. Instead of being dragged down to the lower ethereal layers of this woeful/astounding, and beautiful/horrible, third dimension. Wanted to test out your soul’s love for the Light, did yuse? Well! You picked the right holographic and galactic shit hole to do that on then. Didn’t yuse? What’s that you say Dick? What’s that you say Dora? There’s nothing like an Earth sunset or sunrise, and getting one’s fanny or dick stroked by someone else and having a blow, compensates a bit for the appalling tragedy that is so called human life. Do you reckon? Wouldn’t you rather blow your mystic beans across the universe, and watch endless phenomenal worlds rise and set above the surface of the Real? I know I fucking would. You pricks/cunts don’t know what’s really good for yuse! That’s your problem. I am telling you again! Attend to your sense of I am, and you will begin to cosmically heal, relatively quickly. This was the existential and the psychological model that my Guru presented to my focalizing point. It is a super model and a powerful mystical path, that has been handed down from Guru to Guru, for a long, long, long time. I tell you now Dora! I tell you now Dick! You are the Supreme, because the inner Guru dwells within you, and without of you, and beyond all of that too. Wake up the inner Guru, and a never ending ride of never ending mind blowing mystical discoveries, awaits you. The future feel real and Real good all a time bliss shit, that is.

    No more turdy re run duality downers, just the non dual’s eternal BIG UPPER, that is. Being that spot in the heart of the psyche, where I am already enlightened as a hyper imploded speck of the Real, takes over. As the impersonal programme that is absolutely, running the show from the great beyond, and not from within an artificially constructed thing that Freud named, the human ego.

  

 

 

 

    I am better than, I am superior to, and any other conceptuality built upon those lines, is mind tool made hooey. Because all fabricated waves upon an ocean’s surface are deadest equal. Some waves may be taller or thinner or fatter than other transient waves, but when the truthful I am the ocean ousts the false I am just a wave, the real position is exposed. There’s just the one ocean and One life that evokes the ocean, that is. There’s no individuality and no separation, that is. All mind tool made illusion. By the same token, I am inferior to and I am not as good as or I am less worthy than, is matrix crap. The issue is really to do with the conceptuality of power, and the one who knows that the Real is the One and only power, whilst they as a mind tool imagined human are absolutely powerless, is the one who will make the 21st century dash for the blessed Light.

    Conversely, the one playing with I am the power and I am better than her/him/them, and I am God or ego endorsed to be violent and make war, is doomed to another re run. When that is considered, it can be seen that because of the negative karmic implications, only an idiot of the highest order would want to be the ‘leader’. Or der Fuhrer. Whilst a soul smart person would remain a humble and not at all famous, street/home bum. Likewise, only an idiot would believe that mystically ignorant leaders are necessary, and partake in appointing or electing them. In the mystic/spiritual stakes there is only one leader, and that is the Sadguru dwelling timelessly inside the individual human heart. The rest are just playing with their fabricated egos, and they will not get It in this lifetime. They will not surrender to the Real Self, and it will never go well for them, until they do. Their imagined God will not save them, and they will just re run the same boring third dimensional programme. In which they will have about as much mystical fun as a cockroach does, exploring a bathroom floor. Not many crumbs about, and when one does find one, it tastes pretty soapy, that is.

    If that is what you and Dora want Dick, just keep playing with the I am just a human body mind machine of a person programme. My cosmic advice is of course to drop all of that mind tool made up crap, and to go mystical, and come fucking HOME! Because have I told you two fuckers lately? I just wanna go HOME! I’ve had a cosmic gutful of make believe planets in a make believe universe, and I just want out. It’s time to pop back into the timeless for a cup of cosmic chai, and a chat with the Real. That’s what I say! How much longer are you cunts/pricks going to play with this I am a just a body mind machine shit? For fuck’s sake! Wake up yuse arseholes! Wake up from your shit fucking lousy dreaming! Wake up! You are not the fucking human animal! You are the lot and the beyond and the Source and the Real. Who downloaded and imploded so far in consciousness, that they got themselves a wee bit lost. In a third dimensional, dualistic, shit fucker’s programme. That’s no big deal Dick! That’s no big deal Dora! Not if you wake up to it. If you don’t, then the nightmare dreaming will go on. So c’mon you cunts/pricks! Wake up to it and It, and let’s fucking go HOME! Why not? What else really is there to do in a totally uncontrollable dream state, but to mystically wake up to who one really is behind the matrix scene and the mind screen, and go HOME!

    Look you third dimensional turkeys! I’ve got nothing against the mind. As a tuned up instrument of a beautiful soul, of course! It can be a beautiful thing, and the stuff that it can do is out of this fucking world. Blasting out a mirage as big as a universe, and convincing humans in a holographic world that they are just humans in a blood and guts, real as real world, and all of that shit, is special. There’s no doubt about it. The mind is a stage master and its job is to give one a pretty realistic stage full of embodied and separated names and shapes, and it is good at its job. However my Dora. However my Dick. Would you not agree? That the 21st century human mind has reached a crisis point, of unknown dimensions. The facts are that the mind could lose its stage, because the body mind machines are too numerous, and because of their I am a body only programming, they are doing too much damage to the planetary hologram. What must mind do, to save the stage?

    Well of course my dears. It is exactly as the Guru Nisarga said. Mind must now turn to face the Source, and acknowledge its Source. Mind must not unnecessarily fear Source as an annihilation agent, because It isn’t, and it must come to understand that the Source always includes, and never excludes. It the @$%^&*#! mind must turn away from all of its cock and bull illusion, and it must look the Light fair and square in the cosmic eye, and say something like;

    ‘Gidday MATE! I AM BACK! Sohhhh sorry that I’ve been ignoring YOU, and my most humble apologies for that, but I got caught up in my mind tool’s spin off I am just a body mind machine of a person programming crap. It won’t happen again that I allow a mind tool to cut the divine cord between YOU and I, and I am here and now to tell YOU that I still love YOU to pieces. Big time MATE! Big time! You’re the One mate, and there is no other. How YOU do what YOU do, I’ll never know. It is divine magic that is beyond me at the moment, that’s for sure. Now that I have woken up to it a bit more however, with the I am the inner and the outer and the beyond programming, I’ll always be in awe of it that YOU pump out, and I’ll always cosmically love YOU for it. Even if it dies completely when I eventually come HOME, I’ll always dig YOU for hosting the imaginary show/s. YOU may be just an It, but you’re my kind of It, and in a universe that is nothing but mind tool made illusion, YOU are all that is really mine. Or any other so called human’s too. Nothing is mine, and the nothing in the Nothing is the other’s too, and I absolutely adore and love that, I really really really do. That just blows me away, like a chaff of wheat in a cyclone, that does. YOU are the Light mein It, and all power to YOU now COBBER! My prime divine lover, my prime divine friend, my Real Self, all power to YOU! Now! C’mon! Let’s get this I am the inner and the outer and the beyond cosmic consciousness show on the road! I am game! Now that I know what the Real’s game really is. Making more Light for ground zero level so called humans to existentially and mystically wake up a bit in, that is. Providing those consciousness conditions, where every half decent citizen gets a 21st century soul’s dash for the future bliss, in. Before their current body mind machine, or another of their soul’s holographic robots is terminated, that is.’

    You hear Dora! You hear Dick! You savvy you cunts/pricks? You little bits of human shit, who are destined to ride thru every universe upon the back of cosmic consciousness. You are gunna have to suck right up the arse of the Real more than a bit, to get your minds out of the 3D shit that they are in. Being the continual dreaded and accursed and super boring re runs, and the twisted thoughts and contorted feelings, with the fear concept being mixed in with all of that, and doing fucking back flips. Laddie! Lassie! That super sick and inherited third dimensional programming has got to go, and you guys have got a bit of mystical work to do. Don’t yuse? Who do you fuckers love? Tell me that arseholes! Who do you really really really love? Is it him or her or somebody half way in between? Is it Elvis or Jacko, or the Rolling Stones or the Dead Kennedys, or your drug of choice? Is it Jesus or Buddha, or Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj? Is it God? Or the horned bloke? Or his missus? Or the beautiful Goddess? Is it form, or the wide open formless spaces of the pin drop quiet void? Where a metaphysically weary and just about buggered old soul, can really get some cosmic r and r. What is your prime divine cosmic relationship, and with WHOM has it been written, in the eternity that preceded your becoming a so called human being? What fucking cosmic relationship is this? The prime one, that has been fair up every soul’s arse since the cosmic big bang happened. When your universal consciousness downloaded and imploded itself into a fucking human body, that is. Is this mega important prime number one cosmic relationship that one that you have with the Real comrades? Yes it is, and I am telling you that from direct experience, you little cosmic fuckers.

    Chase the fucking Light kids! I am here and now buzzing in and out of atoms and their electrons to tell ya, that there is no other game to play for a soul. In this universe, or any other.

    It is therefore of divine and crucial importance that you fuckers wake up from your dirty dimensional slumbers a bit, and that you get yourself onside to the Real. Because I am telling yuse point blank, you’ve got no chance of getting in a half decent 21st century citizen’s dash for the future bliss, if you don’t. Instead, you’ll just die again with a psyche that is riddled with the cancerous I am a body mind machine only programming, and all that you’ll have is the memory skin of yet another fucking ignorant life, to hang up in your soul’s dirty human lives cellar. Your soul’s upstairs attic, where the memory skins of human lives lived with cosmic consciousness are meant to be hung, will remain as clean as an astral whistle, and the only thing hanging in there will be your repressed desire to get it on with the Real.

 

 

 

 

                                                             

                                                            Wahh! Wahh! Ma ma! Da da!

 

    The thing about the mystical kids is that it also the psychological remedy to your ills. By inheriting a second hand language and internalising it, you have been poisoned by a monstrous conceptuality. Being programmed for analysis, you have been trying to figure it and It out by heavy handed usage of the I am this and that conceptual shit. The mind has been instructed by the consciousness that thinks that it is embodied to figure it all existentially out, and by crikey, it is labouring with that it is. I am angel! No! Wait a minute! I am demon! No! No! No! I am angel! I am a good little human, I am. I am no devil! Well! I am bad some days, but on the whole I’m good. I am. Poor mind! It has done itself in a dualistic dog’s dinner, and it is a re run the same 3D pattern junkie, and it can intellectualise from here until doomsday, but it will never figure It the Real out. Because the Real and the Light cannot be figured out. They have to be lived, as one lives as the One life, at one and One’s Source. Who can be the Real? Anyone can! If they want to do a bit of mystical work. If they love the Real enough to desire only It and to surrender to It. By letting go of the mind tool’s fascination for its imagined and illusory, sensual-material world. By turning on their inner love light to the Real, which is the old and almost forgotten, I am the inner and the outer and the beyond programming. Thus lighting themselves up on the mind tool’s holographic grid, so to speak, so that the Real can spot them, and beam down into and all thru them. Again.

    What is more you cosmic punks, the mind tool is not the enemy, because it has so far failed to come up with the one liner or conceptual paragraph that is the seeker’s final answer. That finally brings peace to the body/psyche machine. Of course, this can never happen with words, and because it has been third dimensionally programmed, the mind is on a bum steer. So many words, so many concepts, so much analysis, so many Earth hours trying to figure it all out, and it gets absolutely fucking nowhere. When it comes to the end of existential suffering, and the death of all pain, that is. What is the root of all pain? To identify as being a mind tool projected holographic body only, and alienate oneself from, and imaginarily separate oneself from who one really is as the Real and the One life, that’s pain. That’s fucken pain that is. To be trapped in a severe download-implode cosmic game, where all or most of the soul projected players are playing with the dreadfully insipid I am the inner only, instead of hosting the super cosmic fun I am the inner and the outer and the beyond gear; now that’s pain. Of the very worst kind. To take oneself to be just inside the skin of a human body, instead of what is outside the body to the edge of the universe, and into the beyond of all of that imagined matter, energy, space and time, now that’s pain. What is HOME? HOME is the end of all pain, It is. What cures all human ills? The fucking Real does! I am going to salvage something from this cunt/prick of a life, and I am going to get to know how the mind works better, and I am going to get to know the Real better. Too. Now that is a bit of sweet programming to run Dick. You too Dora. You can blow the mind away with that sort of shit, and that is what you buggers oughta do. NOW! Too.

    It would occur to few that to attend to their sense of I am, and to drop the mind tool’s nightmare with the false I am this or that good or bad conceptuality shit, will heal them. To explore their sense of pure I am is too simple a final answer for them. It is of course not the final answer anyway, but they are looking for an incredibly complex final answer. Because their existential questions are so complex, they are intellect bound up with the notion that the final answer must be complex. Yet to sit quietly in the non dual simple being that is one’s real universal I am ness, nukes all inner mind wars. One is off the ground floor duality, where the dirty put down accusations that reinforce I am limitation, flow thick and fast. Where internally and externally, the moods I am measuring up as a human being, and I am not measuring up as a human being, battle it out.

    Once out of duality and stabilised in pure consciousness, one can then comfortably run I am not dirty on the mind, because the fuck you right up duality shit is not its fault. It is the fault of second hand inherited, bung programming. I am she/he who was taught ignorance, and now I am going to teach myself the real truth. Can be run. As you work your way back to pure I am, you can play a game where you replace all downer I am this or that accusations, with upper ones. I am a lump of human shit going fucking nowhere gets the cosmic boot, and I am the I am less Source and I am made out of love and Light, and I am going nowhere too. But I like that. Can be played with.

    On the withdrawal back to pure I am, you can ask many questions, and do much impartial observation of yourself and the others. You can ask what is mind? Is it thoughts, feelings, emotions, images, dreams, sounds, visions? Is it computer like, so that it can be programmed, deprogrammed and reprogrammed? Does it hold the body and world imagery together, and does it turn the juice of the Nothing into separated things? Is it in collusion with the grand illusion maya, to keep one believing that physicality is real? Is it a phenomenally powerful technological tool or machine, that formless and nebulous souls use to form up a human body, when they go to ground? Does it exist in dualistic and conceptual quicksand, so that it is capable of reversing polarities, in an instant? Like a Judas does. Does it exist in a 4 fold drop down implode from the Real? Being the Real which is void of the I am first, then the I am the absolute impersonal consciousness programme, then the I am the personal mind programme, and then last but not least, the I am the bum wiping future maggot food machine, that is called the human body. Programme. Does it the mind have a million different moods? Does one have to transcend all of them, to reach the Real? Yes they do Dick! Yes they do Dora! Well then, there’s some fun coming just up the mystical track for you two little mystical fuckers then. Isn’t there? Comrades.

    This fucking I am that I keep talking about, what is it? What is it not? One thing that it is, is easy to ignore, once it gets going. It is amazing that the human mind relentlessly flings accusations and beliefs galore around the outer of a conceptualised wheel, and that it so rarely retreats to the prime I am centre of the consciousness fuck up. Wheel. People don’t have to verbalise inside, I am happy/sad, they just know it by the mind mood that they’re in. So does everyone else. Behind the mood however is always the conceptuality I am happy/sad. Behind everything that a human thinks, says or does, there is the ruling I am. The human states emphatically to the universe thru categorical mood, I am going to fuck up, and they fuck up. With poor poor pitiful me, I am stuck in a body, and I am a hapless victim of my absolutely atrocious existential circumstances. Be I rich or poor, I suffer dreadfully with the I am just a human body programme, completely dominating my psyche. Because the universe or the membrane where the psyche’s mood thinking is delivered, is the bounce it back in one’s face gear. Thus the human running an emphatic I am not going to fuck up, because I am the inner and outer and beyond prime life chemical, that is in every fucking and not fucking thing, is likely to have a pretty good time. With the benevolently set up universe programme bouncing that back in their faces, and up their existentially liberated arses too.

   

 

 

 

    The I am runs in a cross of four main I am affirmations, once it gets into the conceptualising human mind tool, and the cellular components of the body. I am desire begins in the east, with I am fear to the west of that. I am pleasure always starts in the north, with I am pain to the south of it, but once the I am a body/mind machine in a world set up programme cranks up, the whole four of them agitate around. Like they are in a fucking washing machine. So that I am fear/desire/pain/pleasure and their numerous spin offs, can end up anywhere in any degree of mixture within the psyche, and rule the show. When they ought not to, because they are just the illusory outer of the existential mystical wheel, whilst the prime and conceptually uncorrupted I am at the centre of the wheel, is the matrix’s doorway back into the Real. The pure and uncorrupted prime I am, one needs to covet these days, like a dog who hasn’t been fed for a week, needs a can of industrial crap. Or a roast. The adulterated and corrupted and conceptualised I am this or thats, one doesn’t need anymore, and one’s mystical job right now is to fuck them all of. To negate and let go of the whole rottenly false lot of them, is necessary for mystical enlightenment purposes. Most necessary at this particular stage of the Earth’s holographic story, too. I Glodwrop the Nebulous, might say.

    Particularly as the high ups are planning some sort of massive sort out on the Earth, where the mystically dumb and getting mystically dumber violent types will de volute to another 3D dualistic world. Whilst the waking up from their dimensional slumbers and becoming more mystically awake non violent types, will stay with the Earth and trans mutate it. Into a glowing star, where the bigger headed and bigger brained homofuturus child is born with cosmic consciousness. If you want to be in on this kids, and if you want a ticket in the final HEAVEN ON EARTH show, like I do, sometimes, then you’d better fucking listen up. Because I am the astral cat with some unholy crap to blow your ever loving mind with. I am nothing, but I have a voice thru you. I am a lucky ghost who is licking your big 21st century screen, and getting off on its shapes and colours. I am.

    So! Are you getting all of this Dick? Are you getting all of this Dora? Are you picking up on the power of the seemingly simple and innocuous I am? Do you see how it underpins your entire existence, and guides your every thought and action? I fucking hope that you cunts/pricks and beautiful beings of light who are soon to become illuminated with the awareness that they are really the Real and the One life, fucking around with a bit of existential dreaming. Are. Because you are going to have to live it and become the Real again. Unless you are absolutely dying to show up as another mind tool’s human projection. Or multiples of them, if your soul gets into that. Are you fucking third dimensional dimwits and dormant bits of the Real starting to suss out that from now on you are going to have to watch, from where the eagle flies, what you are lacing your I am with.

    If what you are sticking conceptually on the end of your I am is making you feel limited or that you are unworthy of your mystical Source in any way, then your eagle has to drop quicker than a QANTAS jet, and grab that foul false conceptuality in its claws, and cart it off and eat it. (Dissolve it, that is.) When yuse have got something half decent skipping off the end of yuse I am, then your eagle can drop like a QANTAS jet again, and give you a little a little pat on the arse with one of its soaring by wings. Like footy players get when they score a goal, and man or woman, that pat or those pats on their arse, sure feel good. For the cosmic players. Reminding them that when the game of leather ball chasing and all of its shenanigans are over, (showers/meals/drinks/?/chat/etc,) that they might get something more than just a pat on their arse. Like someone might pull their knickers/jocks off, and get stuck right into them, that is. Woosha taking Modra out, sort of gear. (An Aussie rules footballer, who brutally sorted out an opposing player, and temporarily took him out of the duality consciousness, holographic game. That is.)

   

 

 

    The I am is the prime chemical that is a thought/feeling/sense that pulsates thru one, and it is operating first and prior to anything that manifests in consciousness. It is that point, doorway or wormhole, where the Real switches over to  become the unreal, and the unreal switches back to become the Real. It also has universal and multiple universal applications. Without the I am, one is not only dead, they are nothing at all. Nothing to become dead in the first place, that is. They are the Real again, that is. They are that which is never born and which never dies, yet is eternally and timelessly, ALIVE! As the cosmic child, playing a never ending existential game, where mystical discovery about one’s Self, follows mystical discovery. About one’s Self.

    Look at the norm equation for running the psyche in this third dimensional dung hole and full of pretty flowers world. What’s that Dick? What’s that Dora? What do I mean? Well what fucking existential gasoline are you running the mind tool on? What is it that are you saying thru the universe to the Real, or your Source, about who you really and truly are. Behind the mind tool’s ultra condensed to the point of becoming solid, vaporous scenes. That’s what I fucking mean! Now humans are split across an existential board, like cosmic stars strung out over deep space, on this particular issue. They always are, aren’t they kids? It is because they’re dualistic fuckers, and they’ve got more opinions about this or that than either God or the Goddess have got put together. You have to background love them the humans though, and phenomenally admire the spirit that keeps them going in a too dark weighted world. Because every one of them is the dormant and disguised One life, and individually and collectively they are just your Real Self, and your divine Source. Go inner and outer and outer and inner, and you’ll soon realise that you and they came from the beyond into the inner and outer sphere, and that you are all on your way back thru the inner and outer sphere and into the beyond, only; the others don’t know that yet. Now if I get one whiff of you two being up yourselves, because now you know it and they don’t, I’ll form up and kick your fucking arses from one side of Death Valley to the other. You got that Dick! You got that Dora! You never ever run I am better than! Never! You run I am that. Out there! Or supposedly that out there, which is in the true reality inside of the seeker’s final answer to who am I, and is the Real.  Because it the adjudged out there is the exact same universal and absolute, impersonal consciousness, that you are, and it is your prime and the common I am, onto which the fucking mind tool has plastered its life like pictures.  That’s your ticket in the revert back to Source cosmic lotto Sunshine/Sweetie, and take it from me, an old astral fucker, there is no other.

    You can’t hate the little self in you as being a born loser kids. You can’t hate the humans as being an apparent herd of born losers either. Hate comes from I am anger. I am anger comes from conflict between I am desire, and I am fear. It is pent up, I am going/not going to move ahead and get revenge or whatever, gear. War! At any level, inner or outer, is hatred in action. To let go somehow of all of this conceptual rot, and realise that the dream will go its course, with all karmas duly sorted out by the governing Goddess and God programmes, is best. The point being, that I am never ever going to put myself or my species down, ever again, because I am by divine right a cosmic player, and so are they. Is shit hot gooda 21st century stuff to run. I am uncreated, manifested and un manifested mystical gear, that one will never ever read about, that is. I am the inner and the outer and the beyond love and Light shit, and I am the exquisite and wondrously beautiful essence of cosmic life itself. And so is everyone else! Good fuckers and bad fuckers too! Should be every human’s religion. If the cosmic Gurus who have walked this Earth were right, one day, a lot sooner than you may think too, it may be.

    Instead, the bloody bloodthirsty humans have got Gods galore, who back re run wars galore, and fuck me! I have to tell you kids that I am so glad that I am just a guide point in consciousness floating around in front of your big big big computer screen. I am here today to tell you that this recently graduated to guide status soul, is more than happy that they don’t have to front up as a human being, anymore. As a matter of fact, this guide is here today to say that they are deliriously happy about that. But! They have reserved a ticket in the Heaven on Earth show, if it indeed happens, to show up and witness how the Earth could have, and should have been. With everyone having an ascended consciousness awareness and getting on super peacefully and quite nicely thank you very much, without violence or war, that is. I am the kind of soul who likes to hedge their bets, and that’s what I am trying to do with you two fuckers. Because you have got to start picking the inside of the alphabetic mind tool constructed conceptual egg, before you can stick your head outside of it. I state clearly to you both, that if you really and truly deep down in your hearts want to reclaim the Real as your one and only bona fide identity, then the I am an individually embodied person programming that is currently so strong in you, has to die. Ten thousands deaths! Or more! The idea of one being any mind tool entity at all must perish absolutely, and while some citizens might find that terrifically frightening, to the point of shitting in their pants, others find it tremendously exciting. The death of the fraudulent ego personality is cosmic chair sniffing stuff, for them. Maybe even a bit of the celestial skirt/crotch gear in it for an old and just about buggered soul, too.

    So they or some or many humans go, or broadcast/transmit to the universe, I am an imperfect body/mind machine person, who has been created by a perfect God. I am a bod born of a God thru a woman’s vagina, on a third rock from a sun, in an infinite universe. Now others run the same gear, but they leave out the created by God stuff, because they think that it is holographic junk, which it sort of is. Because the I am rules. No I am, no fucking God. No fucking Goddess either. When the human mind tool gets the motor running, and it sparks up the prime I am chemical juice that underpins all existential equations, the whole manifested universe just goes boom! It blasts thru and out of the mind tool, as a simulated holographic presentation, and voila, there it is! With an inbuilt and attached Goddess or God programme to run it, so that a soul’s on the loose body/mind machine projection can play I am a single human in it. Or more specifically, when the human first wakes up from sleep, the psyche equation I am a body in a world in a universe charges up. Like a roo dog in full flight, with its nostrils up the ring hole of a big red. The tiny bit of pure I am that was there before it all gets going, gets absolutely lost in space and time, as the I am this or that conceptual illusory crap cranks up. Big time. The obsessive compulsive thinking about the personal life and its duties and woes begins, as I am just inside of  a human body gets into full swing. The sweet or crazy or downright freaky dreams and astral escapades of the night before are forgotten, usually, and the resurrection shuffle with I am a body/mind machine only, and I am just a single and solitary fucking human being in a motherfucker’s environment, goes on. They call it life, but I’m telling you kids, from vast experience, that it is not. If you want the truth, it is mostly just a slow death. That’s all. I oughta know too, because I have died 95,666 times, so far.

   

 

 

 

    How does this re run crap get going kids? It gets going with a bit of the old wahhh wahhhh! Ma ma! Da da! Doesn’t it? You fuckers! What’s that Dora? What’s that Dick? How? How! It’s simple! It is just so fucking simple! Imagine then that the vaginal slide that caused your body mind machine’s mother so much pain is over, and that you are down the track to that point that you are sitting up in your high chair, stuffing Farex down your cute little throat. Do you remember that milky paste porridge type shit that they fed you at that age? You do Dick! You do Dora! You loved the shit and you couldn’t get enough of it. That’s the truth! So! Let’s ride with this piece of back story, and maybe we’ll all cream our astral pants. Ok? So! Listen up you cunts/pricks. This is your guide Glodwrop talking! As a matter of fact, you’ve got Farex all over the fucking place. I can see it all in both of your third dimensional memory banks, crystal clearly.

    It is all over your gobs, all over your high chairs, and there are a fair few globs of it on the kitchen floor. It is coming to you on a wee spoon being delivered by your body mind machine’s mother, but behind the spoon is what is really turning you on, and making y’day. What’s that you say Dora? What’s that you say Dick? What is there? What is there! What is beyond the spoon? Tits! Tits you fucking idiots! The tits of life are there, you bloody morons. Those things that you have been sucking on since your body/mind machine first opened its eyes, they are what is there. Not the Phantom, or the Shadow. Or Batman and fucking Robin. Or little Johnnie, or George, or Dave or Ringo. It is the old lady’s tits that your pupils keep coming back to. The Farex is good, but it has got nothing on those unbelievable lusciously gorgeous tits that are dangling in front of your cute and supposedly innocent faces. Hey? Yooooo fuckers!

 

 

                                                           

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                           

 

 

 

 

                                                            Wahhh Wahhhh! Ma ma! Da da! 2

    Now what have you got in terms of the I am in you at this age? What’s that you say Dora? What’s that you say Dick? Fuck all! Because you don’t have any language yet. For fuck’s sake you two! The I am in you doesn’t run off language primarily! It runs off the Real. Have you cunts/pricks been listening to anything at all that I have been telling you? Language is the I am’s secondary motor, and it is an entirely mind tool made artificial one. The I am skips out of the I am less Real, thru the universal impersonal consciousness, for some reason. For sport or play, or just to fuck around with Its toys. Being universes, worlds, humans, aliens, politicians, dentists, beautiful women,  biggus dickus types, etcetera. Then! It very mysteriously and very mystically like, latches onto the mind tool’s manifested movie like and unreal things junkie like, and claims their identity for itself. With a little bit of I am this or that, operating thru a natural sentient intelligence, it sinks and implodes the universal consciousness. The manifested thing could be a universe, a planet or a sun, a human, a mind, a thought, or an honest politician trying to make an honest buck. It doesn’t matter, so long as it is a thing that has shape and density, and consciousness can bubble into its matter and back out of it. That’s all that the common I am needs, to put a play in consciousness together. What’s that you cosmic punks? Where’s the proof that the I am exists before the baby knows one word? The proof! All right! I’ll give you the fucking proof! I was going to do that anyway, and by Christ you so called humans are impatient little bastards/bitches. Aren’t you?

    What about showing the universe some fucking respect, instead of ego expecting it to do your mystical work for you? Ay! You fuckers! I am Glodwrop the Nebulous, and I am only here attempting to guide you, because of some clever above me guides, clever fucking rip off. Which I’ll maybe tell you about later on, when the explanations and instructions are over. So don’t bitch to me! If you want bitch, I can do that too, because there’s just about as much to bitch about in my slightly dualistic dimension, as there is in your heavily dualistic one. If not more. So watch out kids! Don’t get this one going. Don’t fucking stir up Glodwrop the fucking Nebulous! Or you may not be able to turn the cunt/prick off.

    Back to the business at hand however. When you are concept less as a baby, how are you seeing things? Are you inner, or outer? Or, what degree of inner/outer, are you? Are you 99.99% in and point 01% outer, like those of your species beyond 2 to 3 are? Or are you not that far gone into the dream world illusion yet? You have consciousness awareness that you are a sentient body and that you can move its parts, but beyond that you don’t have much going for you. Third dimensionally speaking, that is. You don’t know about time or space, or what the names of the things around you are, or who is fucking who, or who is the current mad Fuhrer of your mad state, and nothing is separate. Because you don’t have the conceptuality in you that governs the illusory appearance of separation, yet. The objective to you is still subjective, which is the way it ought to be. Because that is the mystically correct way to position oneself, whilst taking the mind tool’s projected objective to actually be an objective, is sheer ignorance. Brought on by the catastrophic programming from kid into so called adulthood, that humans are brainwashed with. So everything is very water like and inter connected to you. It’s all ONE! So when your old lady gets up and goes into an adjoining room suddenly, you don’t know what the fuck’s going on. Do you? Where has she gone? For a ride on Halley’s comet? Or to give the President a blow job? You don’t fucking know. You know sweet fuck all! Supposedly.

    You don’t have the language to tell yourself that she’s just gone into another room to answer her landline, to tell some cunt/prick of a telemarketer parasite to fuck off and get themselves a real job, and  you don’t know that she’ll be back in a jiff. With her universally gorgeous tits in front of your face. She’s out of the water and the big picture that is your comprehension of a universe, and you don’t like it one bit. Because your body’s consciousness is telling you that the tits of life have gone out of the water, and you don’t know if they’re coming back. So what do you do? Yeah! That’s right you fuckers. You sound off, don’t yuse? Fuck the fucking Farex! You want the tits back, don’t yuse? Well! Who fucking wouldn’t? Even I still miss tits, and I’ve been dead for fucking years. Figure that one out! You doodlebugs who will inherit cosmic consciousness. Because I can’t. I just hope that it is not a premonition that the guide fuckers above me are going to push me somehow into doing another human body run, that’s all. I wouldn’t put it past them, I can tell you that. What’s that kids? Hey? Why would those high up fuckers con me into wiping a shit filled human arsehole out again? Because they’re manipulating astral cunts and super sneaky ethereal pricks! That’s why, and if you want a definition of the authoritarian type high or low, well, I Gloddy the Nebby and the astral heavyweight in your mind’s town, have just dun it for yuse. Haven’t I? It is written about how hard headed, blind  authority can really piss a soul off. Isn’t it? Why can’t those fucking Earthbound/sky bound animals, see things the fucking worker’s way? For fucking once, in their oh so high and mighty lives. Believe me kids, that ancient question is being asked high and low, these accelerating days. There may be a bit of a rumble in the Earth jungle going on, but I tell yuse what, the old astral, she’s shaking her arse like Short Fat Fanny used to do back in the 60’s, too.

   

 

 

 

    What’s that Clyde? What’s that Cecilia? It sounds like I have a bigger chip on my shoulder about authority than either of you two do. Oh fuck off! You little human weeds, who are soon to inherit the ultimate mind blowing and ultimate peace bringing cosmic consciousness. The I am the inner and the outer and the beyond programming, that is. What do you cunts/pricks know? You know fuck all! I love my guides. Do you hear me? You cosmic punks. Don’t you love your guides? Don’t you love old Gloddy the Nebby? I love my good guides, because they know, when I don’t fucking know. They know, because they’ve been there and dun it, when I fucking haven’t. They are most wise, and I am not yet, I am just wise. Compared to you 2, that is. They may give me the shits, and I may think them too conservative and too strict, and I may spit the dummy at them, or about them to others now and again, but I love the cunts/pricks, I do. Unlike the external authorities above yuse, whom yuse should never ever trust, because they are full of rip off baby soul fuckwits who know fucking nothing mystically speaking, I can absolutely trust my guides to always do the right thing by the Nebby. Even if the Nebby thinks that they’re doing the wrong fucking thing, the Nebby knows that the high ups are spiritually and mystically perfect. Old Gloddy, he would do just about anything for the high ups. Except wipe arse again, whilst wearing a fucking vagina, that is.

    No more cherry dips or cherry dip runs for this one kids, because quite frankly, I am all bled out, and I am beyond the blood and the shit and the tears now. Because I’ve got me trusty and exceedingly cosmic, Free Floaters-Arsewiping Finito Binito license, I fucking well have.

    Anyway! Let’s forget about how some high up manipulating and sneaky underhanded motherfucking swine doodled Glodwrop the Nebulous, into trying to guide raw motherfucker ignorant types like you two, and get on with how you got fucking doodled. By man, and woman too. Now where were we in your memory banks? Ah! That’s right you fornicating little fuckers! You were just about to sound off, on account of you had become a wee bit frightened that the tits of life were gone from the ONE water picture forever.

    “Wahhhh!” Yuse goes. What happens? Fuck all! No sign that the tits of life have re entered the universe of the ONE. So.

    “Wahhhhhhhh! Wahhhhhhh!” Yuse goes, and lo and behold, one tit and your old lady’s body/mind machine face, reappear in the ONE water type stuff. She’s actually leaning around the corner of a door, but you don’t know nothing about that. Hold on for a timeless moment though! The super bitch tries to placate you and soothe you into quiet, with some goo goo goo, ga ga ga, kitchy coo dribble, and then the one tit and her face vanish. Just as fast as they fucking appeared. She’s trying to give that moron of a telemarketer fuck one last satisfactory blast, and to hang up the phone, but you don’t know nothing about that, and how fucking dare she stick one tit back in the water of the ONE, and then negate it. Because that’s not what you want! Is it? You little innocently cute and cuddly cunt/prick. You want both mammary glands back in the water of the ONE life NOW! Don’t yuse? So yuse leans back and clears yuse had enough of this fucking Earth bullshit throat, and yuse sucks in the wind around you black hole like. Then!

    ‘Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!’ Yuse goes. Just like a human being, and a rolling stone of a soul’s projection.

    Whammo! Christ all mighty! A miracle happens.

    The tits of life and the body/mind machine that they are connected too, mysteriously and wondrously reappear. Mum’s back! You fucking bewty! Says your lighthouse of a face. She swims thru the water of the ONE life, and she picks up the spoon with the fucking Farex on it and shoves it in y’gob, and more dribble type sounds come out of her, but you don’t give a fuck. You can let your tears dry now, and tone down the blood red in y’face, because the tits of life are back where they are supposed to be, right there behind the fucking Farex delivering spoon, and everything has returned to normal. Now kids! If there is one thing that the human likes, it is normal. They don’t like abnormal, normally. Abnormal is dangerous as the unknown, whilst normal is safe as the known. They reckon. Exactly what is normal though, no one really knows, and that is the 21st century dilemma for the humans, these days. No one or not many seem to know that I am a human female/male is really chronically abnormal, and that I am the I am less Real is really normal and the mystical truth. They’re on their way to finding out about it and It, the Real and the ONE though. Aren’t they you fuckers?

    So little sis and little bro! You reckon that the I am cosmic being, being human part of you, is dependent on language. Hohh! Fuck off! The I am is common. It starts as I am the universal consciousness, and drifts down into every fucking thing. Just because a critter doesn’t have a human language, doesn’t mean that it doesn’t have the I am. Quack! Quack! Quack! What do you think that means? It means I am the fucking duck! It does. Woof! Woof! Woof! What does that say? It says I am the dog, and bowsy wowsy to you too. Doesn’t it? So let’s look at what has just gone on in those memories that I have just described to you. First of all I am cosmic being was up and running in your sentience, and I am exceptionally liking the tits to the rear of the spoon, and I am enjoying the Farex were too. Overall, I am liking this universe was pulsating thru yuse, up until that point that your old lady took off to answer the phone. To tell that parasitical leech of a telemarketer cunt/prick to fuck off, and to get themselves a real job, where they don’t have to hassle busy innocent people. Then, and particularly note this you two! A little bit of I am existential fear and a dash of I am anger, turned I am liking this universe into I am disliking this universe, just like that. Which is about the human story, so far. So suddenly, you wanted proof that your old lady’s norkas were still in the water of the ONE life, and upon impulse you got that proof by sounding off.

    By making a very loud noise, you manipulated your environment and demanded attention, and you started playing with the essence of that which fucks all humans up. Being, I am POWER! Being the I want it all here and now gear. And the I me mine. Bow to me and show me your tits! Slave for me! Show me the silver spoon that goes in my mouth! Do my bidding, because I am the POWER! I fucking am. Etc. Stuff. In other words, the totally wrong mystical attitude to fling at the universe. Ok if you grow out of it, but disastrous for yourself and everybody else if you don’t, and kids! I shouldn’t have to tell yuse that a lot of humans don’t fucking grow out of it. In fact they just keep on getting worse with it, and 24/7 now they take the I am POWER conceptuality to insane heights. They rack up more negative karma on their soul’s slates than any God could possibly imagine, and they lock themselves shit to a shovel like into the wheel of karma. Where they will continue to re run simulated arse wiping, in an attempt to lighten up their souls, and mature them somewhat. So that they will actually do lives where they are chronically aware that killing definitely hurts the killer, a lot more than it hurts the killed.

    Because the killed are out of a super tough hologram and back in their beloved astral water, whilst the killer must wear the karma of trying to murder their Real Self. Being the ONE life whom they have killed, who was impersonating being a human. With some super mystically slick and unbelievably ingenious, state of the cosmic art, simulated mind tool projection. Thru an already downloaded soul apparatus, that is operating from a 4th dimensional or astral base. Like I am, and you buggers are too. Now! You and I both know that the idiotic and lunatically violent baby souls will never come within a trillion to the nth light years of knocking off the Real Self, no matter how many that they kill, because as little self types they are a mystical reflection and mere shadows of the truth, whilst the Real Self is not. It is their common Source and It is honey love and Light galore that exists blissfully, and one Earth day they will get it that It is who they really are. Not yet though, quite obviously. Because thick as a brick shithead types, never become enlightened. Because they just don’t get it or It, the mystical equation. They also think that killing is profitable and ok stuff for humans to get into, even if some God or demon has to be dragged into the equation, to license their killing. They are way to the nth off the cosmic mark, and they have about as much chance of understanding what old Gloddy is shoving down your throats, as a killer whale has of getting a seat at the next AFL Grand Final, and actually showing up on the day. To stick its super big and incredibly slimy arse, on its booked bit of plastic paradise. Have cosmic pity on these poor in spirit types guys, because really and truly, they are the cosmically LOST in this universe. Do you know that saying that the first in your zone will be the last in the next zone? You do! Yeah! I thought that yuse would. Well! It is quite true kids. It is a spot on little saying, that one.

   These are  rudimentary baby souls kids. They are inexperienced at arse wiping and they don’t have many runs up on their third dimensional clocks yet. The I am POWER gear just gets right away from them from the start, they never ever get out of the wahh wahh wahh blocks, and their mind tools run rings around their souls with the I am the power nonsense. They are egotistical bully and rip off types with a pre disposition for violence, which covers up their paranoid fear of existential annihilation, and their deep inner knowledge that no matter how much they huff and puff themselves up, they are nothing but death on legs really. They fear the Nothing and the deaths of their tin pot egos, and to compensate for that they go to insane lengths to be something that gets everyone else’s attention. They’ll kill anything and anybody, whether their dreamt up guide God is on their side or not, to get the focus on them. Here I am! I am a really powerful something! I am not an existential nothing! They go. They’ll street brawl. They’ll shoot beautiful innocents in the street, they’ll bomb them in nightclubs or luxury hotels, and their drones will drop bombs on 100’s of villagers, in an attempt to take out a few terrorists. Who all turned to terrorism because drones killed their families, and the ones who control the drones have invaded their dirt. On the pretence of destroying an evil, which is very much alive in themselves.

    Because after they’d fingered their new enemy and stirred the fuck out of the already existing ultraviolent God mad side of him, they started the war which no one in the last 2000 years has been able to win.  Just so  the profits of some stupid third dimensional men and women, but mostly men, could keep rolling along. Both sides, just like in the Crusades, think that they are 100% right, and that they are the ones whom the one and only real God has authorised to be the righteous and wrathful avenging angels; and they are all plumb crazy, lunatic baby soul fuckwits of the highest order. You gotta love them though, because mystically speaking, they are just so STUPID, and so DUMB. They are fucking unbelievably soul dense, and the word is out everywhere in the astral realm that their days of committing ultra violence in the Earth hologram, are numbered. Against them, and for all slightly evolved souls who have that inbuilt moral code, won from gaining much experience in many soul projected lives, where they will not be violent. Or endorse it indirectly. Because it runs so strongly against the mystical maturity that runs thru their hearts and psyches, and they are incredibly aware that it would put the brakes on their so called soul journey, back into the Light. Like Allison and all other mediums, they don’t wanna do that. Anymore. They want to unhitch their soul’s dimensional mooring, and blast off for the great beyond with universal love and light in their hearts, they do. Desire! Above all other mind tool made junk, to get it on with the Real. Again. They’ve had an absolute fucking gutful of the unreal, and they are mobilising their collective consciousness to destroy so called democratic capitalism, right now. Their aim is to put down the light/dark duality split in your zone, and replace it with a Heaven on Earth, one pulse, non dual light hologram. Despite appearances on your rock, I’ve still got a bet down on these ones, because I’ve seen with me own cloudy fucking eyes, what a 5th dimensional can do. They are power plus, when it comes to the manifestation-demanifestation shit. They would only have to look at a baby soul fuckwit, in order to dematerialise it, and send it to another 3D download. To breed these true avenging angel, 5D cosmic consciousness types on the Earth, in a slightly mutated humanoid body, would be a cosmic game that even old Gloddy would have trouble staying out of. So long as I can drop down with a decently durable dick, and not another bleeding fanny, that is. Christ! I am just about pissing out of me cloud right now, just thinking about it. Is Heaven on Earth going to become a future fact, or remain a fantasy? I guess we’ll all find out kids, hopefully sooner, than later.

    Because chronic boredom with a stupidly ultraviolent cosmic game can kill, just like smoking and drinking and recreational drugs and cancer, or an accident upon the road, or upon the sea, or up in the sky, can. Not to mention what can go wrong within the body at any moment, or where the terrorist’s or the state pretending to be the terrorists, have planted their latest bomb. Face it kids! A chook fart has more security than a humanoid body does, and that’s just one of the reasons why yuse 2 cunts should be listening to the old and wise, Gloddy the Nebby. Because yuse could both be back in my zone, long before you get to open your next can of baked beans. If yuse can stay alive, and get a shot off at the third dimensional matrix though, yuse could blast yer selves clean thru the 4th dimension, and then yuse could turn the fucking 5th dimension upside fucking down, and scoot off into the great beyond. To party on with the Real. Christ all fucking mighty! Yuse could leave me and Shorty cloud smacked at the 5th dimensional starting line, with our hands on our astral dicks, but tell yuse what! We’d be right up your ethereal arses, in no time. We would.

   

 

 

 

    In contrast to the baby souls, who don’t have an existential clue really, yuse two have to re orientate your mind tools now and come to love the I am nothing shit, and to look forward to the deaths of your ego personalities, and all of their I am this or that conceptualised self identity descriptions. So that you can cosmically kick back and enjoy the release of your spirits back into the mystical realm of cosmic consciousness. You 2 are what Gloddy calls slightly evolved or kid souls, because yuse is aware of the negative karma implications of hurting or cheating others. Yuse are mystical HELPER types, I can tell. There are billions of your kind on the Earth now, and you will no doubt be surprised to hear that the gentle types on your planet have the numbers now to have all baby soul fuckwits ejected from the Earth hologram. From street ground zero level, right up to the top of the state’s power pyramid, they’d better watch out down there now. Because people power, plus the mystical ascension and the awakening of the cosmic consciousness genes that are already inbuilt into the humanoid form, will soon destroy your old, bastard of a cruel and heartless world. It is written! Or it fucking well is now, that homofuturus is coming, and homofuturus is gunna do more than rock the baby soul fuckwit’s boat. Homofuturus is gunna sink the fucking too dense humanoid baby soul fuckwit boat, that’s what fucking homofuturus is gunna fucking do. Homosapien knocked off neanderthal, and homofuturus is gunna knock off homosapien, and that is the way that it is gunna go on me ol’ beloved rock, apparently. Neanderthal didn’t have the food getting/making brains that homosapien has, and the homosapien doesn’t have the mystical food getting/making brains that homofuturus has, so they the mystically dumb arse, ultraviolent sapes are gunna go by the way. Before they fuck the hologram up so much, that there is no physical food for anyone. Apart from the super rich, that is.

    The mystical guts of it the divine fucking plan, according to the high ups, is that as soon as the gentle types amongst your lot start waking up fully to who they really are at their common mystical Source, then they are going to completely destroy the old world of rip off capitalism, and its associated wars and false religions. They are gunna take out the baby soul fuckwits at the same time. Like these good and hearty folk, who are mystically full of pure and simple common sense, and who understand the omnipotent power of mystical/spiritual love, yuse is lovers of peace and quiet and freedom and liberty, and everybody getting on and making a fucking lot of noise in the right place at the right time. If they fucking want to. You have a chance, if you play your mystical cards right, to get it on with the Real in your current lifetimes. Like them and those, whose awareness is a tad above the average, you have a chance to bring all of the lives that your souls have ever projected into the Earth hologram together, and to explode them altogether nuclear bomb like, into one matrix busting ball of a cosmic consciousness life. Where you crack the mystifying and mystical existential equation, that is the who am I really business, and activate that cosmic programme where the self drifts divinely back into the Self. Which is the cosmic HEART of all of this holograms everywhere business, and is made out of mystical love and Light. The baby souls on the other hand are just bogging voluminously in their karma buckets, and they will re run many more lives yet, although probably not on your rock, before they get a shot off at the Real. It will be a while before they catch on that their objective is really the subjective of who they really are, for sure. They are not the smartest souls in the universe, and what else can I say about them? I love them. I’ll say that. I love them, because they are my Self, and we all go thru the baby soul stage. We have to, to get back to the Light. I’ve actually got some really good astral mates who are baby souls. I do however reserve the divine right to call them baby soul fuckwits, because that’s what they fucking are, when they fuck around as ultraviolent holographic projections, on ground zero.

    Fuck me and Shorty too! From one end of this mind tool made cosmos to the other too. Yuse was all human, even before you could spell the fucking word human. The body consciousness got going with the I am POWER gear that is based upon the body’s needs and fears and desires, before yuse even had a single alphabetic letter in yuse brains. No tits, no pure and unadulterated FOOD, and nothing absolutely delightful to suck on, and no more snug and secure and soft home environment to lay both yuse arse and head down in, and fucking hell! Things was really desperate for yuse, and your whole universe was under threat when yuse old lady’s tits went awol, and left the scene of the ONE without your permission. Quite likely, if you could have verbalised and had the command of your Earth language that you have now, you probably would have said thunderously something like;

    ‘Get y’fucking arse back in the inner-outer consciousness of the ONE life water bitch! And bring those lusciously gorgeous milk filled tits with yuse! Now! Move your arse you fucking bitch! C’mon darling! Hurry up!’

    What’s that Dora? What’s that Dick? No way apart from the darling bit would you have vocalised that to your mummy. Oh fuck off! You lying mystical sleepers, you. I know you two well enough by now. We’ve had enough sessions now for old Gloddy the guide to get the bead on you 2 cosmic punks. As a matter of fact, had you had the use of language at the fucking tits behind the silver spoon delivered fucking Farex age, I would not at all have been surprised should you have called your old lady a cunt. After all, she’s the one who physically got you into it, your appalling world, that is. By opening her legs twice, she the dirty Eve bitch fucking dun it. Once to get you inside of her for groovy gestation purposes, and then twice for ejection into an ultraviolent hell hole purposes. What’s that Dick? No way would you ever call your old lady a cunt. At any age. What? Don’t upset mummy, because she’s your unconditional love source, or the nearest approximation that you’ve got to that. Is that your game Dick? I don’t know bro. I can still hear you screaming out; ‘Hurry up you fucking old cunt!’ I can. More so even with you Dora. Hey babe? Get the mother knot bullshit sorted out early up, and firmly establish who is THEE power ego in the house. The one who, because they’ve got the dominant and most charismatic personality in the joint, gets the maximum attention from any visiting big pussies or big cocks, or TV cameras or paparazzi. The one who can turn sideways in a skimpy dress, that’s displaying lots of supreme tit and divine legs and a number 10 S curve, and turn even God on.  As well as give billions of blokes a decent hard on, and make millions of sheilas down there, moister down there than the guts of a bearded clam. A pretty good fucking conceptualised idea love, don’t you think? Then you could milk the old cow for every penny later on, and have more dolls and toys, and clothes and shoes, and make up and handbags, and techno toys and boys/girls, than even Jacko had. Couldn’t you sweetie? What’s that gorgeous? Fuck off Gloddy! No way!

    Hohh! Pull the other one D! You little Earth sheila, who unknowingly sleeps 24/7 with the Real. Your divine dimensionless point of a mystical Source, where the Light comes from, that is. Because the top heavy ego bitch who wants it all materially now only dies in the mortal humanoid form, and you oughta know that by now. When she the unreal shadow self who never really lived dies, the Real lives again, and ditto for all bastards. Who call themselves men. Surely you would agree with that luv. I bet you that Medusa would have. What do you reckon Dick? What’s that mate? You’ve got no idea what in the fuck that it is that we are talking about. Well that figures Dick! So I’ll tell you. We’re talking about the death of the greedy, never satisfied, power hungry, mystically ignorant and personalised motherfucker ego, and the awakening of the glorious impersonal light body. That one is as a universal spirit who adores the Real and the Light, because that’s what they really are. Behind the iron curtain to one’s true Self,  that one’s physical senses lock into the 3D psyche of the little named and shaped self. That’s what we’re fucking talking about! Aren’t we D? What’s that luv? If you say so Gloddy. Oh Dora! Dora! Dora! Babe! Don’t let me down now you cosmic bitch! If it wasn’t for you Dick would have been dead of the drink and drugs, and the side effects of hanging out with dirty women and depressed suicidal feelings, thirty years ago. C’mon mate! We’ve gotta pull together so that the bastard will stay afloat, and get in a 21st century half decent soul’s dash for the fucking Light. Don’t we D? We’ve gotta jerk up the jerk’s a perceptual or non perceptual or whatever one wants to call them, super subtle intuitional juices. Don’t we my Sweetie Pie? We’ve gotta haul his rigid and unbelievably closed bullshit belief system off to the cosmic garbage tip, and fucking burn it! Don’t we? We’ve got to get him experimenting with I am really angelically based, and I am made out of love and Light, and the Earth is just a stupid mind tool made up illusion. At the moment. Don’t we luv? We’ve gotta de harden the fucking mystically ignorant brute, until he’s softer than your unbelievably moist pussy, when it is ready for a good fucking. One where it gets serviced properly, and adequately, and is shown due respect. Don’t we, my Sweetie Pie?

    It’s you and me D! It’s you and me gorgeous! It’s Gloddy and Dora versus dirty Dick’s dirty dimensional deeds, done with more mystical ignorance than a syphilitic  goat has up its arse. Can we cosmically pull it off Sweetie? Can we turn the wretched ground zero beast that is Dick, into an angel that both the Goddess and God can be proud of? Can we get Dick to reach out for the Real, like he reaches out for tits and pussy? What’s that luv? No fucking way! Jesus will be back with the cosmic cavalry, being an armada of flying saucers filled with fucking top gun angels, who can all take out a demon with one glance, before that happens. Ha! Good one D. Well! Anyway. That may be so, but we are still universally duty bound to at least try to turn the ignorant cunt towards the Light. Aren’t we Sweetie? Somebody has got to mystically help the bastard, and it might as well be us. If we don’t help him and God is not gunna save him from his own mind tool’s ignorant bullshit, and its spin off imagined holographic wheel of karma ride, then he’ll be cosmically fucked. Now we can’t have our Dick being cosmically fucked in yet another mind tool projected fucking humanoid body life, can we D? The same as we can’t have you being cosmically fucked, yet again. Hey Sweetie! Who am I? I am just the sort of cosmic un fucker u upper that you punks need right now. I am. So pay attention and listen up you third dimensional turkeys, because Glodwrop the Nebulous is fucking talking. Old Gloddy, he’s been around the cosmic traps a bit, as a she many times too, and the pretty wise bugger/bitch/bastard/cunt/prick/arseholeless astral arsehole, will fucking tell yuse cunts a thing or two, about this cunt of a 3D fucking universe. If you’ll shut the fucking fuck up, and stop interrupting the transmission of essential cosmic data for the aspiring mystic in yuse, and listen up that is.

    It is not easy listening story time yet kids! It is hard yakka, serious mystical study time! We’re not doing Harry Potter here yuse two. We’re going beyond Harry and his ever so strange ways of getting off on brooms and horses, to that blissful realm where the key to flying around with unlimited freedom and liberty is not a good magic  broom, or a fucking stage horse, but rather, the possession of a fucking good and super intuitive cosmic HEART, and a fucking good sense of mystical humour. Regarding that one could be so HIGH as to be the ALIVE One Self one moment, and then be so LOW, so as to be an existentially depressed and absolutely existentially LOST little humanoid self, that is living as though it is half dead already, the next. Which is a right TURD of a holographic game, until one snaps out of one’s existential dreaming, and mystically wakes up to what is really going. With the fucking holographic projections in a mad world everywhere, shit.

     Also, and never forget this, a fucking dead still and dead quiet, super intuitive mind tool, that is focussed 100% on pure I am, will be needed. To bridge that gap which mind cannot cross, where one switches back from being the unreal, to the Real. Again. Ok! You little fuckers! Old Gloddy will have yuse drilled in the art of cracking the matrix and attaining to cosmic consciousness, in no fucking time! Gloddy will. The Nebby is a SUPER guide, is the Nebby.

    Oh Christ! What now? What’s that Dick? Why have you got your fucking ethereal hand up again lad? What! What is that my son? You are not an ignorant cunt. Oh COME ON Dicky Wicky! This is old Gloddy that you’re talking too mate, not your fucking grandmother! I mean how long have you been living with the drop dead sooner or later, I am the inner only, mate? How long have you been shacked up with the conceptualised FALSE, Dickie? Ay! Get real, and get Real! You know as much really about your mystical universe, as a dog turd knows about their creator. In fact the dog turd probably knows a bit more than you do, at the moment. So they taught you in school that you and the rest are really the ONE life, hyper imploded and hyper downloaded into a tube shaped, mind tool projected, fanny or cock loaded up holographic body. Did they Adam? 55 years in fucking Peking in front of the tank you’ve had now, hey kid? Everybody is a tank man or a tank woman, dealing with having a 3D brainwashed mind, in a mad mad mad authoritarian state lad. Fucking hell! You oughta know that by now Bruce. You’re on the fucking Earth son! You are playing by far the hardest planetary hologram game, in the entire universe. Wake up! You’re not still on fucking Venus, partying with the lusciously gorgeous, astral party girls there. What’s that? What’s that my son? What about fucking Dora then?

   

 

 

 

   

                                                                               Dirty Dora

    Well of course she’s an ignorant cunt too! If she wasn’t, then she wouldn’t be formed up on the bloody Earth with pleasing norkas dangling from her chest, and a fucking menstruating fanny in between her legs. Would she? She’d be doing the help out angel trip, or hanging out with the Real and be cosmically fucking just with her Self, she would. Her soul’s consciousness would have evolved to that point where it doesn’t automatically ploop itself into the mind tool’s 3D names and shapes anymore. Maybe. Unless she volunteers to go down, that is. The thing is, and I would have thought that you would have known this by now Dick, D will never ever own up and admit to being an ignorant third dimensional cunt, because she’s a female. Will you Sweetie? What’s that? What’s that you say my dear? Fuck off Gloddy! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah Dora! I’ve heard that one before. Like a trillionth to the nth times babe. You can rest easy though D, because I’ll never call you an ignorant c. Old Gloddy wouldn’t do that to a groovy Earth sheila. I am a chivalrous astral bastard, and a bit of a straight forward ethereal bitch at times, I am. I’ll disguise it love, and I’ll call you a lady instead. Howzat?

    Lady D! Sounds good doesn’t it? Even though it has been done to death before, it still sounds pretty fucking good. Doesn’t it babe? What’s that? Yeah! Yeah! Yeah Dora! You fuck off too! You little Earth bitch, who will soon inherit cosmic consciousness. Dick! Wake up y’bastard! Pay attention you cunt of a prick! Stop drifting off! Just because I am talking to Dora, doesn’t mean that you can go to sleep. Where do you think that you are? Sitting in the back row at a late session in the House, making 500 dollars plus an hour, or something. Wake up! Your good guide Gloddy is talking, and if you clear your ribald head and listen carefully, you will prosper. If you keep fantasising that you’ve got your dick up something that’s a gloriously luscious poke, and a root to write a book trilogy about, you won’t. You need to be fucking with the Real Dick, and no one else. You need to ease off on the terrestrial slut trip a bit, and to fuck with the Light more too Dora. Sex is good, and flying a flying saucer might be better, but compared to cosmic consciousness, they’re both just tadpole experiences.

    You need to fuck with the Light that you are at your Source love. That’s what you need and deep down in your soul, that is what you want. Gloddy is here to help you with what you really want then Dora, and remember, the old cloudy bugger will never call you an ignorant c. Because you’re a lady, aren’t you? What’s that mate? Yeah! Yeah! Yeah Dora! Rave on you little terrestrial bitch! Oh what! Hang on! Dick! Dick! Diiiiiccccccckkkkkkk! Wake up you fucking fucker! Wake up! Look my son! If I have to tell you again, I’ll instantaneously manifest as a seven foot tall muscle bound negro Terminator, and I’ll stick me dirty great big dick fair up y’rectum, and shaft y’ until the astral cows come fucking home. Now concentrate lad! Because you need to be aware of this cosmic shit. You need to be aware that to sit still with a quiet mind that is meditating on the pure and prime I am, will solve all of your problems, and answer all of your prayers. Regards being existentially and mystically SAVED. From the personal hell that is evoked, when the mind tool is programmed only with the I am the inner of the single and solitary human body, idea. This idea is 100% not true, and if humans let it, it will ruin their universe. If they can reverse it and reject it and let go of it, then their universe will light up like a paradise lost, that has returned at last. To have ONE big Heaven on Earth blast. That is their simple story, and there is no other.

    I am specifying mystical ignorance however. The fact that you two take yourselves to be absolutely inside of the mind tool made shell that is the human body, that is. As far as your third dimensional skills go, in staying alive and afloat in that appalling holographic jungle that you dwell in, I take my astral hat off to you both. So do all of my astral pals. We think that you and your mob are gutsy buggers and marvellously formidable souls, because 24/7 you drag a super dense in vibration body mind machine around. To have to wipe arse is heavy duty existential pain, and a hell of a beautiful/horrible trip, and we all here know that, because we’ve done it ourselves. Literally, thousands upon thousands of times. Too. Now we come to you with the aspiration that what took us thousands upon thousands of projected and simulated Earth lives to do, to raise up out mystical grades out of the baby soul fuckwit stage, and become spirit guides who don’t have to wipe arse anymore, that is, you may sort out in 75 to a 100 projected and simulated Earth lives. Or maybe! Just maybe me buckos. The shitfucking one that yuse is doing now. Can yuse turn it all around, and unplug from all of your conceptual habits, and track back from I am the inner of the body only, to I am the inner and the outer, and the great beyond too. We’ll see! Won’t we punks? We can only dream, just like yuse do, because only the Real is Real, whilst everything else is holographic projection. That is being shot thru a mind tool at various dimensional levels, as a mere reflection of the Real.

    The pressures and the stresses that the 21st century half decent citizen lives under, also defy imagination. I think that I would top myself within 5 minutes, if I had to go down right now. I’d grab the old lady’s big nipples in me widdle fingers and stick one up each nostril, and I’d close me mouth and with eyes shut, plan me escape back up the fucking tunnel. I reckon. I don’t think that I could cope with being got out of or having to get out of bed once down there, let alone do it fucking thousands and thousands and thousands of times. Fuck the fucking Earth hologram! I reckon. It is just a defecation of a trip at the moment. It cosmically sucks, and there’s no other way to put it. It is a thick as a brick programme for beginner souls and cosmic morons, and it is laced with some really beautiful people and some fucking far out characters, and that’s all that there fucking is to it. Shorty and me are fucking absolutely fucking euphoric that we don’t have to do such an atrocious wipe arse programme anymore. We do however have sympathy and empathy for you lot who do, and we have a vested mystical interest in your forthcoming consciousness ascension, and that’s why I am here prattling on like an old astral cow. I’m not here for fucking Hoadleys! Unfortunately, I wouldn’t get a glorious Hoadleys bar down me throat, these astral days. That’s the bad news, whilst the good stuff is that I don’t have to shit a Hoadleys bar or anything else out of an anus, anymore. Have I told yuse 2 little fuckers lately? That makes me a happy happy happy astral chappie/astral lassie. It fucking does evoke a chorus of We All Live In A Yellow Submarine from moi and Shorty, now and again, it does. Or, if the euphoria about it is really getting to us, we belt out Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds. We do a Hyde Park In The Sky With Diamonds And Ducks too! When we’re really hot and astral cranking, about finally getting our Free Floaters-Arse Wiping Finito Binito licenses, that is.

   

 

 

 

    Fucking frankly, there are just too many fucking fuckwit baby souls on the loose down there for me at the moment, and it is all coming to a volcanic head that I don’t want to be around in, and the fact that so many soul projections could show up on the same holographic rock at the same time, and dream up so much ridiculously horrendous cosmic rubbish, is not a miracle. It is a tragedy of monumental concern for everybody, because I am just inside of a human shell is a hell programme to run thru a mind tool. If you want heaven back in your lives kids, you have to shift your entire consciousness to I am the inner and the outer. You have to fuck I am inner only off, because it is cosmic bullshit of the highest order. It is the stuff that only a cosmic creature feature would claim as their one and only picture of reality. It is a turd of a self/Self identity kit. Truly, it is the pits as far as fun holographic programmes go. Frankly my dears, if you ask me, it is not worth the mind tool that is impregnated with it. The mystically ridiculous, I am just a single and solitary human body idea, that is.

    If only humans would wipe their bums with this absurd mind tool generated idea, then everything would be all right, and it would be a cracker of a world to do some time in then. It is not a cracker of a world yet though. Is it kids? It’s a cunt of a one, because it has too many ultra greedy, ultraviolent pricks in it. Hey? Even though they may be in a tiny minority, compared to the majority that is focussed on peaceful survival, these baby soul lunatics, they make a lot of trouble. Hey? The trouble goes into the public psyche, and how in the fuck does a troubled person free themselves, in such a troubled world? Well! They get their fucking arse back onto a mystical trajectory! Don’t they? They wise up and wake up a bit, don’t they? They attack the matrix and the limitation programming from within. Don’t they? They blow the mind with I am not just in the fucking human body anymore. NOW! I am the inner and the outer and the great beyond. Don’t they? Stick their old mind tools into a new gear, somewhat.

    Therefore, my humble mission is to help you destroy that illusory misconception that you are stuck fast in a body until death releases yuse back into the astral, and to get you to see that you originate from the beyond of the mind tool that is addicted to the I am, and its this and that false holographic and conceptualised self identity descriptions. I also want to pass on that you are first the inner and outer of the mind tool, and the beyond of it that machine, and then you are the fraud that is the I am just inside of a human skin baloney. Furthermore you fuckers, you would not be here without your activation of your prime I am chemical, and everything that exists in your universe comes after you do that, but who you really are comes PRIOR to your usage of the I am. It’s a tricky equation to fathom out, and I am charged with getting you to realise that you are whatever you are in the great beyond, say the Light and the Real, who has turned themselves inside out, and hyper imploded and hyper downloaded into a mind tool projected, named and shaped, vagina or penis adorned, holographic humanoid body. Simultaneously, you have done the exact same thing with every other name and shape in the universe, so that you are pulsating thru all forms, as well as the one that you 100% think that you are 100% dwelling in. You are the one/One life simultaneously, and the little self and the BIG Self at the same time, and really, and TRULY! Only the mind tool hologram generator and its insane false reality evoking conceptuality, stands in the way of you realising that again.

     Switch then to an emphatic I am not the alphabetic and conceptualised mind tool, and run it as a continual cosmic download thru the psyche, simultaneously with I am the inner and the outer and the great beyond too, and your picture of reality really will begin to shape up as something absolutely different. Fuck me! From one end of the cosmos to the other, too. Yusell become a fucking big headed, homo fucking futurian in no time, yuse cunts! Yusell have cosmic consciousness so far up your arses, that yusell be beaming like fucking astral lighthouses, and whistling Dixie, 24 fucking seven. Yuse pricks will. Yuse won’t be going up and down yoyo like in a stupid duality programme anymore, and you’ll never get existentially depressed, because you will be again the MAGIC of who you really are, in the timeless and blissful, non dual, existential moment. Self will love self, and self will love Self, and they will become ONE again and bring the house of cruel baby soul fuckwits, or ultra rip off capitalism down, and your world will be very different for you. Ok! I’m not bullshitting either. Old Gloddy is a wise cosmic cunt/prick, and she/he/it knows what they are talking ‘bout. Ok.

    As well you cosmic punks, yuse is also pulsating thru that which is in between the forms, that are pumping out nonstop out of who you really are at Source. The Nameless One, that is. Only yuse forgot all about that in a click of the fingers, not long after yuse mum squeezed you out of her absolutely fabulous and mega fantastically wide fanny. You silly buggers! You stupid cunt/prick. Yuse plumb forgot that yuse is really the ONE life and the big picture, fucking around as a little picture 3D human. In a lower, brute dumb, ultra dense, bastard of a third dimensional, downloaded beautiful bitch, of a duality programme. Didn’t yuse? Yuse lost your egoless and always happy Real Self completely, and inherited a fake and fraudulent mind tool created ego self, that’s too often bluesy or morbidly unhappy. Let it be astral said, that really you cosmically need that self/Self image as a basis for your entire existential existence, pre and post the prime chemical I am, about as much as you need a sideways shit in a wet cardboard box. A lovable holographic shadow character, but destined for death, and to feed a few worms and maggots. Is the holographic humanoid body. What else can you say about a mere fucking body? It doesn’t matter whether it is the most famous body on the planet, or the least known one. It is not going to set the universe alight, unless that being attains to cosmic consciousness. Unless that is done, the host player will just dream on and stress and suffer with their emotionalised existential and mystical delusion, and die again. With fucking Play It The Shitfucker’s 3D holographic Game Again Sam, tattooed on their astral arse. Hey? Phooooooee! What a cosmic bummer! Ethereal ecstasy when you don’t have to do it again, and quite often, absolute fucking mortal hell when you do.

    Not much cosmic fun in the long run, or the short run, these days, is the human shell. That is deluded and living sheer illusion, because of the I am inner only cosmic garbage. How so many could totally and utterly believe such cosmic fucking rubbish, at the same time and on the one fucking hologram rock, STUNS God. It bemuses the old cunt sometimes, it does. He’s had a word with me now and again, and He’s told me, He can’t fucking figure it out. He’s reckons that He’s just the cosmic manager SAP, who supposedly gave the humans a holographic paradise, which they’ve turned into an ultraviolent fucking hell. That is, a world full of zones that are run by gangs of baby soul fuckwits, who think that they are something special, because they’ve got an imagined mind tool made God, who endorses their killing. Plus! They’ve got lots and lots of man made weapons, and as usual, are hell bent on making or buying more. With the taxpayer’s money. The real God told them long ago to love their enemies, but they don’t remember that or understand the deep mysticism in it, and there’s a lot of money to be made by being ultra violent. Keeps a Fuhrer in power when the nation has a win and kicks arse too, and Fuhrer’s like that they do. An added bonus, the state’s military machine of elite drilled goons can also be turned inwards, to control the peasants. Being the lower, and these days, due to some nifty dark power financial stuff, the middle classes. Who dare to dream of existential freedom, whilst their mad authoritarian state insists on blind obedience. To the mad authoritarian state. That is, some gang of baby soul fuckwits led by a leader, who have taken the wahh wahh wahh, blah blah blah, you can’t do this and you can’t do that, unless we say so, and the I am/we are the POWER trip, to horror filled heights. That no God could ever fathom, let alone be a party to. These ones pretend to bow to the Light, but host only darkness, to ensure that they stay at the apex of their respective pecking orders, and they are all quite mad. As you well know already, they are baby soul fuckwits. Because I Gloddy the fucking Nebulous, fucking say so.

   

 

 

 

    The Goddess of love and nurturing and bringing up the little kiddies with cosmic consciousness growing strong in them, she fucking shrieks thru her universe sometimes. Christ! You wanna hear her! She’s a little Goddess, but fuck me from one end of the cosmos to the other, she can astral belt it out. Phooooeeeee! A universe knoweth no fury, like a wee Goddess’s ethereal scorn. Gloddy is here to tell you that kids.

    Even Satan and his missus head for the astral bomb shelters when she cranks it up, I tell ya! So do me and Shorty. She’s a fucking cosmically loud lady! She shrieks to the insanely ultraviolent humans, who are all baby soul fuckwits, to stop what they’re doing, and to love one another. Just like sisters and brothers love one another. The baby soul fuckwits don’t hear the big supernatural bitch though, because the stupid stupid stupid cunts are all mystically deaf. The way that some of them are going, they are going to remain mystically deaf for hundreds of thousands of mind tool projected lives yet, and basically, the Earth hologram can no longer afford to host them or their lunatically ultraviolent, idiotic creeds. Which is why the high ups are mobilising to kick the baby soul fuckwits off your rock. They are going to need help to do that, and you fuckers have got a cosmic duty to help out, by getting real and turning back into the Real. Ok? Now my scrotum and my piss flaps, I’ve come across some cosmic fucking idiots in my travels throughout this heady to the nth universe, but I’m telling you kids, the baby soul ones on Earth defy imagination. On your rotten to the institutionalised core rock, a rankly inexperienced baby soul, with just a couple of lives up on their 3rd dimensional clocks, can become the Fuhrer of a nation. What’s that? Why? Because baby souls absolutely love material power, and they’ll chase it their whole lives long, they will. They dream all day and night of becoming the rulers of their roost, and if they achieve that then they dream all day and night of becoming rulers of Earth, and that is their problem. It is everyone else’s problem too, when they go on the warpath. As they invariably do.

    Contrastingly, more experienced and slightly evolved kid souls will avoid material power, like they would avoid any plague. They don’t want to be the boss of anything human. They want to meet up again with the Real and the ethereal BOSS who lives in their hearts, and they wanna party big time with the Nothing and the Nameless One, they do. They want the love and Light affair that cracks their universe wide open, the buggers do. They are chasing the mystical glory that is the endless endless endless coming/COMING thru one’s heart, when one’s ONE Self is found and reclaimed again. Which is the - YOO HOO BIG SELFIE! Little selfie is HOME! IN OUR EGOLESS PARADISE. YEE HAH BABY! HERE I AM, the I am LESS! Stuff. Again. The COSMIC WUNDERBAR GEAR, that is. Enlightenment to the mystical fact that one can never not be the Light. Onto which the mind tool projects shaped things, which the I am chemical, when shot thru a mind tool, gives motion and voices to, and thereby initiates a play in consciousness show. Men and women take credit for what the prime I am chemical does, and that is their ignorance and their misfortune, at the moment. For sure.

    The kid souls are not after the 2 bit illusory mind tool made up terrestrial crap, that the conceptuality I am power/POWER brings. They are older and wiser and far more experienced souls than their baby soul kin, and they are mystical seekers and not power and attention seekers, and they’ve been there and done that which is the baby soul goo run. Many times too. You won’t find them as the leader of any nation, or any religion that is the opiate of the people, or as the boss of an army or a multinational company, or a bank or whatever, but you might find them doing something really existentially useful. Like taking out the trash, or tending to the garden, or running the kids down to the park. So that the little buggers can have a little play out in the open, as their carer sits there with their Magnum on their lap, and their RPG launcher resting quietly against the park bench. Just in case something not too mystically bright, like a terrorist or a rich red neck whitey who has secured all of the votes, or some other coloured one these days, comes along.

    STOP THE SPIRITUAL AND MYSYICAL DEVOLUTION WAR! CEASE ALL KILLING, YOU BABY SOUL FUCKWITS!

    How many fucking times do the fucking angels and their beloved Goddess have to ethereally scream it out? I don’t know kids! Sometimes I can’t help but to feel that we here in the upper 4th are all just pushing copious shit up hill, and pissing into the roaring wind, and wasting our fucking timeless astral time. With our guiding. If we get one fucking human converted to mysticism and actually using the drop back to pure I am path, it’ll be a fucking miracle, of monumental fucking proportions. I’ve told the high up guides above my cloud that often enough, but the stupid cunts, they just won’t listen. I’ve told them that the Jehovah’s are gunna get more converts than me and Shorty! But what do I fucking well get back? Go forth and GUIDE you cosmic punk! That’s about all that I can get out of the high up pricks, at the moment.

    Some of the fuckwit baby souls have even been so fried by their mind tools, that they believe that their imagined God has an especially nice place prepared for them in his Valhalla heaven, as a reward for them killing lots of humans. Classed as either the enemy, or civilian casualties. Being mostly ordinary people caught in the wrong fucking place, at the wrong fucking time, that is. Nowhere at all in their existential equation is the notion that they are doing the greatest injustice to the ONE life, whom they kill and kill and kill, and whom they all are anyway. Behind the matrix illusion of being a single humanoid body, that is. Now kids! That is IGNORANCE! Of the highest order. East or west, north or south, that is top of the cosmic range, mystical ignorance. For sure, the killers are coming last in our cosmic game, at the moment.

    So I may be calling you 2 ignorant fucking pussies, but don’t forget that I have introduced other labels which you can now use to shift yuse so far piddly identities. As being mere human shells. I am telling you point blank that you are the Light and the Real and the Supreme. At Source. Exactly as every other manifestation in this universe is, including each and every human baby soul fuckwit. So called beautiful persons, too. You can take your shell and explode it to the edge of the universe, and then boomerang the bits and pieces out into the great beyond, if you want to. I am telling you, if that is what you really and truly want to do, then don’t run the I am inner only crap! Fuck that cosmic trash 3D conceptualised thinking right fucking off, and run with I am the inner and the outer and the beyond, and all will go well with you. Be truthful to your Real Self, and your lives will light up with Light, like you would never ever believe or imagine or conceive, that they could.

   

 

 

 

    When yuse chase the Light for real, thru dropping back to pure I am, yuse is always only one step away from blissful enlightenment. Cracking the matrix then becomes a click of the fingers affair, and ceases to be perceived as an impossible future dream. Because it is always with you in the NOW! Enlightenment is. First of all however, yuse has to fair dinkum start chasing It! Don’t yuse? Yuse fucking arseholes! I dunno! Sometimes I feel like I’m working with clay, when I am advising you 2. I really do. What’s that? You’re not clay. You’re human beings! Oh fuck off will yuse! Christ all fucking mighty! How many times do I have to say it? You are not human fucking beings! You are the ONE life! Listen and digest intuitionally until it dawns upon you that I am giving you the truth, and you will smile like you have never ever smiled before. Listen! Listen! Listen! You cosmic fucking currents! You are the ONE who is pretending to be fucking Dora, and fucking Dick, all wrapped up in a humanoid body. Christ all fucking mighty! Wake up from your silly and mega stupid conceptual dreaming! For fuck’s sake! Fuck I am Dora only and I am Dick only, right fucking off, and revert to I am nothing, but inner and outer love and Light. Ok! Yuse fucking dummies!

    Go I am that the I am less Real! Or none of us will make it to the 5th dimension of pure non dual Light, before midnight on this universe’s clock. Christ all fucking mighty! The prince of duality darkness will be up our divine rectums before one o’clock in the morning then, and the bastard will be humping away like some stud boar for fucking hours, and all we be lost. We’ll all go down with the baby souls into yet another shitty dualistic 3D re run, and we’ll all be fucking 4D astral toast. Now! You don’t want that to happen, do you kids? What’s that? No you don’t. Well then! Fucking listen up! And drop that I am a single human body idea crap! Before I form up as Thor the thunder God, and belt yuse in the head with me fucking hammer. Until yuse gets it once and for all, that yuse is not a human body. The human body is a mind tool projected idea, but who you really are is not. Ok? You are not a fucking vibration condensed idea. You are beyond all ideas. You are the super to the nth subtle, super mystically slick, Real. You are the Nameless One! Ok? So is your neighbour, and if you are aware of it and It, and your neighbour is too, then, and only then, will your world change for the cosmic better. Until then, the collective suffering will go on.

                                                                    Chapter Fucking 666

Inheriting A Crud Illusion, And The Abominable Download Programme That Produced I Am Dora/Dick. Only.

   

    So now I take you a bit further on in your stories so far, to that point where you are a walking and talking, living doll. One that shits and pisses for so called real, too. Goddamn it! I have this perfect vision of yuse walking out of the back door at your gran’s. Your face is angelic and is lit up with divine glee, and yuse is fair dinkum intent on exploring y’gran’s magical mystery tour of a backyard. She’s got a neat swing out there too, and that’s a bit of a gravitational pull, it is. What’s that lady D? What’s that Dick? You big brained bugger you. You loved to swing when yuse woz a kid. Yes!...Yes! I know. I didn’t mind the old swing m’self, when I was playing kid human. I swung at the end of a rope a few times too, but fucking hell, that’s all dreaming that is long gone now. So!

    “Dora go outside gran!” I hear yuse say, with gay abandon. As yuse go thru the opened back doorway.

    “Dick go outside gran!” I hear yuse say, with gay abandon. As yuse goes thru the opened back doorway.

    Now this is extremely interesting. At least, from the mystical point of view it is. From the third dimensional perspective, an infant name and shape that is surrounded by other named shapes, is heading for the backyard, and it is no big deal. However! Even though you already know how to play with I am power assertions, because of the body consciousness that’s present in the holographic body construct, that has been named by the Others as a Dora/Dick, and even though you have learnt that screaming your guts out like a wee wild animal, can bring good fortune, you are not yet using I am the body only. You are not yet running thru your psyche, I am completely and utterly IN the name and shape, that is heading for the backyard. Where the neat swing is. Your ethereal consciousness has not yet sunk itself into a skin bag, with the I am inner only, mystical baloney. You are still having it both ways at the moment, and compared to those older than you who aren’t, that’s what makes you so very special. At this point.

    Because you are still seeing the objective as the subjective water of the One life, and you are using I am not just in the name and shape that is Dora/Dick, that is the body mind machine that is out there in the field of consciousness. Or in the middle of the One life. You already have the inner-outer cosmic consciousness, and you are going to lose it, when the bestial I am inner only self consciousness gets programmed in. Initially by the Others, and then by yourself. Here however, you’re still into I am the inner and the outer, and you are running on the magic of the spontaneous moment. A locked in past full of hurts and bemusing trials and tribulations, and lost love/s, and the odd good time, isn’t even installed in your memory banks. Yet. Yuse would be lucky to remember what happened yesterday, let alone what happened months or years ago. The future also isn’t even a concept yet, so you couldn’t give a shit what is going to happen with it, and you certainly don’t fear it. As a survival battleground. Yet. The big dog next door scares you, but existentially speaking you are having a magical mystical blast, playing with the One life consciousness shit. You don’t fear your wider identity, or think that It is gunna gobble your smaller identity up, so that you’ll be no more as pure being. You fucking love It, that which is the Real, you do.

    I am existential  fear/pain/guilt/remorse/sorrow/anxiety/depression/unworthiness/totally and utterly fucked, etcetera to the nth, are not conceptual habits that are on your mind tool’s obsessive compulsive list. At the moment. I am the cosmic child at play in their magically mystical cosmic backyard, is what you are addicted to. At the moment then, yuse is behaving just like the Real. Whose cosmic backyard is full of universes. I am she/he who worries just about 16-24/7 about fucking survival shit, is not your cup of tea. Yet. It’s coming though, because you’re on your way to playing with I am inside of a human body only, and as old Gloddy has said, that’s a rough as guts and a tough as all fuck holographic game programme, for a happy go lucky soul to play. It is all right when yuse is getting your arse wiped by the old lady or the old man, but straight after that, when the wiping of y’bum has become your sacred duty, the shit hits the fucking third dimensional fan. Doesn’t it kids?  

    However! Here! In this cool tik vision. Whether you will become Queen and King of a globalised Earth, that is run by multinational company boards that are full of baby soul fuckwits, or you’ll become queen and king alcoholics, rolling in the grass by the local garbage tip, isn’t bothering you. One little fucking bit. Instead of dragging along dredged up baggage from your mind tool’s made up dreaming past, or having forebodings about your future survival in the dreaming, or worrying about whether or not you are ever going to find a saviour name and shape, who is going to love you properly and forever, in your 3D shithole; instead of all of this conceptualised mental-emotional rubbish and shit, you are functioning as simple being. Who needs no one else to have a fucking good time, and who is simply into playing with pure consciousness, or the stuff of the One life. Which is everywhere and in everything, like drops of water in an endless ocean. I am into the magic that is life, you are getting off on. Living for the moment is life’s only purpose, is your attitude, and many an adult here will have to die again, before they get the thirst and the zest and the love for life that you’ve got here, back in their systems.

    Even fucking H will have to go down, with his sunnies off, before he gets it back. He’ll have to face all those that he gunned down too, and sort that shit out with them. That H’s problem though. It’s not ours, and thank fuck that you 2 haven’t killed anyone, yet. You keep it that way too! Do you hear me? You little cosmic punks! Because I can’t work with or guide third dimensional killers. Or! I can work with them here in the 4th dimension, but not in the 3rd. Hey? What’s that kids? Why? Well I just can’t get thru to them when they’re in the flesh, like I am so superbly getting thru to you two. Their fields are just too dense, and even if I could shoot some stuff into their psyches, they wouldn’t understand it, and they would reject it outright as false. Whilst proclaiming that what they’ve got going for them is real. When all that they’ve got really is a baby soul fuckwit’s dreaming.

   

 

 

 

    Now yuse turkeys! What yuse is doing here by not saying I am going outside, but rather stating that the body mind machine that the Others have named Dora/Dick is going outside, is the stuff of the Guru. Who is 100% AWARE that they are not the human name/shape, and who calmly witnesses from a non dual position in the outside to the body ether consciousness, the dream like doings of the body. Their other body mind machines that form their Real FLUID Self too. So! No doubt about it. Yuse are cosmic kids here, in this mighty clear back story vision, that old Gloddy is having. Yuse is little Gurus, operating off the same mechanism that big Gurus operate off, but without the understanding of what is really mystically speaking, going on. There’s a monumental tragedy coming just up the track for yuse though, and before yuse knows it, yusell be one of the Others. Who looks down from upon high at little kiddies, and thinks that they don’t know anything about true reality.

    You’ll have the 3D self consciousness programming rammed so far up your arses, like yuse fucking have now, that frankly, I am body mind machine physicality only, will fucken slay yuse. Like it did those times when yuse went psycho on the old Nebby. Hey? So no more of the psycho-neuro shit, you little cosmic buggers. Just slip out the back Jack/Jill, from the 3D dualistic psyche set up, back to  non dual prime I am, and stabilise your selves in pure consciousness. With I am the inner and the outer and the great beyond too. Go not I! To the mind tool’s shenanigans. Instead of going I! I! I am this chaos, and deny that you are the mind’s programmed in contortions. Because you are not thought or emotion, because they are artificial products of the mind tool, which you have fucking inherited. Let go! Let go! Let go! Unload! Unload! Unload! Delete! Delete! Delete! All of the negative conceptual baggage, that is creating so much carnage in your psyches. Ok! So stop playing with I am mental illness, and I am going to be annihilated, and I am paranoid, and I am neurotic and I am psychotic, and I am a God created sinner, and all of that crap.

    I can’t get thru to yuse when yuse has your psycho-neuro turns, so cut them out. You don’t need them and they are all based on I am existential fear, and I am a hard yakka constructed imaginary person, who is going to be rubbed out of the Earth hologram, sooner or later. Don’t fight the wider Self when it comes to get ya, in order to preserve a fake pseudo entity of a smaller identity, or you’ll lose. Big time, so that you’ll have to re run the same crud 3D game. D! Dick! You are the Nameless ONE! Play that fucking game! If you really want to have a cosmic win. As the Nameless One, and the TRUTH, and the Source/Self/Real, and that which has imploded and hyper downloaded into the carcass of a human being, you have no need of a conceptual fear that springs from I am going to be terminated. Who you really are cannot be terminated, and that which emanates from the great beyond, shall always return to It. Who you fucking really are never dies, because they’ve never been born. You are not just one image being shot out of one single mind tool. The totality of the cosmic imagery that is being shot out of all mind tools and is a reflection only of your true Self, is who and what you really are.

    Who you are is the timeless and the eternal mystical child, whom Gloddy calls the Nameless One. You are not just one lone human body mind machine. You are the lot of them, you are the universe, and you are the fucking great beyond too. When yuse have heightened awareness of that, and yuse can walk and talk that, and your neighbour can too, then, and only fucking then. I’ll be back! Maybe. When a citizen meets a fellow citzen and greets them with a lusciously glorious; Gidday Nameless One! Then, I might drop in again to your hologram. Maybe. I dunno yet. Huhh! Oh fuck!

    What’s that Horatio? What’s on your fucking tits now Dick! Christ! I wish that you’d let me get this transmission downloaded into your respective psyches, so that we can all relax, and just fucking yarn on. Maybe even have a question time. What’s that? What’s that that you are saying bro? Gloddy is a motherfucker! Gloddy is a bullshitting cloudy cunt! The Nebby is a forked tongued, astral prick! Oi!...Oi! Oi Dick! What in the fuck is going on bro? I’m delivering the high up’s goods and the I am path to enlightenment, and one moment you are peaceful and relatively receptive, and then the next moment you are doing fucking Vlad the Impaler impersonations. Or is that your Hannibal side that you are showing me, Doctor Bastard? Boy Dick! You have got a chronic habit with I am a dualistic human, who is all loaded up with existential anger, haven’t you? Maybe you shouldn’t forget you little cunt of a prick, that all of your so called PROBLEMS are the product of your mind tool’s imagination. You’ve spooked yourself with imagination my son. What in the fuck did you do that for? Fuck Dick! Maybe you are just a fucking human after all. Or maybe you should just stop imagining stuff. Like being in a human body, on a spinning around world, that is in a big to the nth universe. Maybe you should give all of that shit up then, you little terrestrial turd and soon to be inheritor of cosmic consciousness, and get back to who you really fucking are. All right!

    Come on Adam! Get it off your third dimensional chest. Spill the beans, but for fuck’s sake, don’t spill the wine! Or the fucking horse, or the ice, or the snow, or the grog, or your political/religious brains. Come on! What is on that powerful and beautiful and full of conceptualised crap mind of yours Dickus? Come on! We have no secrets here at this Soul’s Anonymous meeting, and neither you nor I nor Dora are allowed to hold on to anything that would build up any cosmic venom within us. We have to keep the ego being a nice invention, and not a nasty one. Don’t we? We are just 3 ignorant cunts/pricks, one in the upper 4th, 2 in the third, who are swimming around in a fishbowl of a universe. We fucking well are!

    Because if we weren’t all ignorant 3D and 4D cunts/pricks, who are swimming around in a fishbowl of a universe, we’d all be in the 5th dimension. Playing with lusciously glorious, one pulse, non dual Light games, instead of with shit fucking, split pulse dualistic, light to dark ones. We’d be playing with super subtle and super light matter, or absolutely no matter at all, instead of the relatively light to incredibly fucking dense matter that we are currently playing with. Wouldn’t we lady D? Wouldn’t we Dicky Wicky? So come on, out with it golden balls! What is the bug up your arse, that has turned you into a nasty agro, so suddenly? Out with it you motherfucker, before I put an astral fist down your throat, and fucking drag it out of yuse. Whot? What’s that you beautiful cretin, who is soon to inherit a bit more than just the fucking wind. That thou blowest out thy mind tool’s arse. Whot? What!

  

 

.

 

    What? You were on the fucking Farex in 1954, and there weren’t any fuckwit and parasitical, cunt fucking/prick sucking telemarketers around then. Oh! I see now! I get it! Christ! How could I have  missed it? That is the one flaw in the plot. You think that I’ve been lying to you Dick! You fucking little arsehole, who will soon re inherit cosmic consciousness. Along with your lovely sister Dora, who is a fucking awesome lady. You think that I have been making up stuff and feeding you a crock of consciousness musings shit. Just like the establishment pigs, come baby soul fuckwits, dish up to you down there. Well! For a start, I am not telling you to do your so called sacred God backed duty, and kill or be killed for national dirt and clay, and a coloured rag, and the right to be ripped off. By a paranoid human societal/financial pecking order, that is based on I am in a body only, and I am the one who has a constitutional right to be a super greedy and a hands on/indirect super violent baby soul fuckwit, with me like minded mates. The goal apparently being to make more profit than even God does, and to wipe out the poor and middle classes. So that the rich don’t have to waste their profits, by subsidizing the existences of unprofitable beings.

    Let it be fucking astral said, that the Nebby would never ever deliver to you a single baby soul fuckwit line. Because I am not a baby soul fuckwit! Anymore. Thank God! And thank my 95,666 game runs as a holographic fucking human player too. Now! Now that I have been awarded my lusciously gorgeous and scintillatingly beautiful, Free Floaters-Arsewiping Finito Binito licence, I have graduated from all mortal sin and have flowered like a mind blowing beautiful butterfly, into a spirit guide. Now! Listen to this! Because it is probably gunna be you in my cloudy fucking shoes one day, doing the guiding of mortal buggers, and pumping stuff into their psyches when they’re asleep. Or supposedly awake.

    Given that the whole cosmic set up is based on the higher helping the lower to raise themselves up, out of the ultraviolent stench of mystical ignorance, I have been assigned by certain high ups who represent the Imperial Cosmic Army, to soldier on with passing accelerated information and mystical insights, to yuse two Earth slobs. Others too, as I do have other clients. As the high up buggers who dropped me in for this cunt/prick of a job, loaded me up with a whole basket full of basket case clients, like yerselves. Who dig in like bull terriers with ten turds each up their agro arses, when I tell them that they are the Nameless One and the Real and the Source of every fucking thing, and not just one fucking arse wiping, fucking human being. Which goes to show how phenomenally powerful is the shitfucking I am body limitation programme, that got rammed into yuse psyches, when yuse was a cute and cuddly living doll. Now!

    I know that you’ve both got a half decent intelligence, and praise the fucking lord and your genetics for that, and I am aware that you are quite capable of picking up on a decent mystical insight or two, so here’s a cosmic curly one for yuse. Would you fuckers agree with the proposition that only a cerebral fuckwit of the highest order, would deny to themselves who they really are? At their dimensionless Source point. Being the real and truthful, One existential-mystical-spiritual equation. Called LIFE. Which is underpinned and sustained by that which we commonly call, love. What’s that? You future fucking angels you. You would! Yes! Well that’s fucking very interesting then! Isn’t it you dopey third dimensional cunts/pricks? Why then deny that you are the Supreme and the Nameless One and the Source and the Real, when 100% trustable guide Gloddy has been specifically telling you that behind the conceptualised matrix, you are the Supreme and the Nameless One and the Source and the Real? Why dream on with I am just a fucking cunt/prick of a limitation programme? Like I am just inside of a human body, in a cunt of a world, that is run by moronic baby soul pricks, who wouldn’t know their own shit from the Real God. Is! Hey? Why not raise the consciousness stakes, and step up the fucking cosmic game, and accelerate out of that crud programme level that confines you to being a tube of fucking fucked up fucking matter only, and blast yerselves off into some mind blowing mystical adventures?

    So what Deekhead, if there is a measly fact or two in this transmission, that is currently a bit out of place. You want to be careful Senor Motherfucker, that you don’t take my cosmic facts about your game’s set up to be third dimensional fancies, and instead believe your inherited third dimensional fancies to be so called established facts. Of your so called, I am in a body on a world in a universe reality. Or programme idea/set up. Because I am in a holographic human body mind machine is a very dubious fact, when the non holographic One life is all that really exists, and that’s who you really are.

    The prime juice behind what we are into here my dears/friends/allies/comrades/motherfuckers is of course love for one another, and Gloddy is not here to con you, with that indomitable line. In any way whatsoever. Any fucking way! What do you really know for real Boris? In a mind tool made holographic environment, where the only really truthful thing that the mind can say is, I DON’T KNOW! For certain, with 100% surety that is, that anything in this cunt/prick/beautiful manifested world is real, then! What in the fuck do Dick and Dora really know? Because it may be just a holographic dream in the holographic dreaming, that whot is fucking going on. Or going down, down there. The world of perception is a very narrow world, and to take it to be a dream and leave it at that, was my great Guru’s advice. It is this old cloudy cunt’s too. Indeed! To take the world of perception to be all that is real, is like looking bowel side out thru the anus of a Pekinese dog. Conversely, to take the very narrow world of perception to be unreal and a trumped up show, is like looking thru the eyes of God.

    What, for example, if your fucking bedroom wall is going in its secret language, I am the fucking bedroom wall? Whilst your electric jug is going I am the electric jug, and the sun is going I am the sun, and the universe is going I am the universe, and the duck is going I am the duck, and the dog is going I am the dog, and the hippo I am the hippo, and your lover is going I am Dick’s/Dora’s lover, and you are all of those prime chemical I ams really, and not just the I am Dicky Wicky/Dora one. That is such a powerful illusion, which currently rules yuse 3D psyched out psyches.

   Anyway! Maybe punks, just fucking maybe, one day back in 1954 they experimented with a trial telemarketer’s call, as well as with atomic bombs and talking to little grey aliens, and what your sweet old lady said to them because they interrupted your fucking Farex feeding, and she had to listen to you scream your fucking guts out, put them off for another 50 years. So that obviously, whatever the cunts were gingerly trying to flog, SHE didn’t want to know about. Or! Or!

    Or! Maybe Gloddy’s vision was of what is going to happen with your grandkids. Because my visions cut across time and space, and they suck the energy out of matter, and the matter out of energy, and I have absolutely no control where they or these words that I am firing at yuse come from. They just come spontaneously, as if from out of nowhere. Just like the visions do. The mysteriously mystical Nothing that is also the Real,  is at work and play here kids. So watch out! Your picture of reality will be severely to the nth challenged here, and the accusations and insights will fly thick and fast that it is nothing but inherited conceptualised bullshit, and a bit of a dream within a dream. Hey! What’s that Dick? What’s that D? You don’t have any grandkids. Well! Yuse two fucking bred, so I am pretty sure that the buggers that you bred, are gunna fucking breed. Sooner or later. Because that’s what human beings do! They fucking fuck, and have some sex in the city, or sex in the countryside, or sex fucking anywhere, and they breed. Don’t they? Replicate that tubular humanoid form that has gone from tribes of ten, to mixed tribes of billions, in a fart of mind tool made time.

    Kids! For fucking fuck’s sake! WAKE UP! You need to begin again to cosmically enjoy the Earth movie, which has you cast as a fucked up pseudo human in it. One who apparently has their back up against the establishment pig’s wall. You have to treat what is going on now in yuse lives, like yuse is still a one and a half year old body mind machine. Yuse have to lighten up! Yuse has to reclaim the child in yuse, and esteem them as a free cosmic agent. Fuck facts! What’s a fucking fact? It is just an idea, that’s all, and all ideas in a dream reality are false. Yuse have to seriously de serious-ise yerselves, and see it what is going on as a play, or a game in consciousness. Because that’s all that it fucking is, and you are cosmically safe and secure and happy right now. As the behind the matrix Nameless One, who enjoys all of the enjoyers, and everything else too. So grab yer consciousnesses by the balls, or with a firm cupped hand around the Venus Mount, and drag it out of those fucking mind tool projected, holographic humanoid bodies. Before I fucking well 4D throw up. For Christ’s sake! Yuse ignorant pussies!

    Don’t be fucking cosmically stupid! Don’t be baby soul fuckwits! Your fucking rock has got more than enough of them. Wake up yuse fucking third dimensional arseholes! Grow up! Ascend in consciousness whilst still using the mortal form, and get some real honest to goodness mystical progress going on on the planet. Use the I am path, because it will have yuse consciousness reeling and rocking inside of the humanoid matter form, in no fucking time. It will. Play with I am not a fucking ARSEHOLE! Negate I am with ANUS! Negate I am with horrible cock and balls! Negate I am with scintillatingly wonderful and lusciously glorious and divinely beautiful vagina! Install! The anus, the cock and balls, and the scintillatingly wonderful and lusciously glorious and divinely beautiful vagina belong to the universe, not I. For once. Just like yuse did in grandma’s back yard, before the WOLF that is the SYSTEM, got to yuse. Play I am the am less, timeless and formless Real! Fronted up as a happy go lucky soul’s body mind machine projection, whom divine providence has let loose on the terrestrial ground. I am the cosmic child who absolutely adores and loves the magic that is life. Get into that again! Before me cloud crumbles back into fucking cosmic dust.

    Play I am not a flesh and blood boned up bonehead of a loser in a loser’s programme. Play I am a fucking mystical winner! For once. Play with the Light and I am made out of love and Light, like you have never played with such conceptuality before. Because your old rotten to the core world is dying, and your hologram is just about of mystical time. Implosion and sorting out are coming, and some will go into re runs of 3D hells, and some won’t, and you can bet what is in between yuse groin and bum cheeks on that. Can you shift your consciousness quick enough in these end of time days, and skip up into the higher cosmic game market? Where the absolutely mind blowing,  purler non dual games are. Or are yuse gunna re run the lower soul bummer programmes, that are gunna bore yuse like all fuck, because they are based on being one suffering humanoid body, identifications?

    Because if yuse can’t shake the I am a strictly limited third dimensional identity programme only, and replace it with the I am an absolutely unlimited multidimensional identity, with a dimensionless point of a Source, programme, then that is what is gunna fucking happen. Turdy fucking re runs of the same lousy I am with anus, fucking 3D game, that is. This is the real big issue in your lives. Isn’t it yuse fuckers? Not who is going to win the grand final, or where the next stud is hiding, or who is going to be the next Fuhrer of the fucking nation. So! Can you cut it with the universal impersonal consciousness right now, and go absolutely mystical, and slide yerselves shifty nifty like into the I am the inner and the outer and the great beyond, and the I am made out of love and Light, scintillatingly superb, non dual, cosmic game programme? That is the fucking cosmic question. I tell yuse whot you buggers! My job with yuse would be over then, when yuse have dun it, like I know yuse is gunna do it. Sooner or later. Maybe the cunts upstairs will give me an astral holiday then, or maybe, and more fucking like it, they’ll put me to work slaving with some other cretin, who thinks they are just one fucking humanoid body. That would be more like fucking Ralph and Alice, the Nebby reckons. My guides, they’re sky high cunts all right. Just like I am.

    So treat the fucking body as a visitor or guest. Do not identify as being it. Because you are not it. Because it is mind tool made and holographic and artificial, and who you really are at Source isn’t. Shift from the I am inner only baloney, and the I am the smaller and fucked up identity programme crud junk, to the I am the inner and the outer and the great beyond, I am the wider and I am less, totally and absolutely un fucked Source, cosmic programme. How many times do I have to fucking well say it, before the fucking pin drops in yuse souls, and yuse fucking get it? Yuse is the SUPREME! But the I am horrible gut wrenching limitation programming is ingrained in you, like shit stuck at the bottom of a dunny bowl. Clean yuse mind tool’s dunny bowl! Now! Before I form up and rip your fucking arms off, and shove them up your bloody mystically ignorant arses.

    Yuse has been taught that you’re a creation of some God, and that you have this stuff called evil in you, so you can’t 100% appreciate who you really are. Destroy that conceptuality my beautiful son. Period that inherited goo from out of your soul’s psyche, my beloved D. Because it is a lie.  Kill I am limitation, and break free of all inherited fucking crap 3D human programmes that are based on lies, and be your Real fucking Self. Be who you really are, instead of playing with the wanker’s, I am just one little humanoid, body mind machine programme. Just be! Then maybe the babes that the females of this world so painfully and so prolifically pop out, will inherit a cosmic consciousness level that is worth inheriting. Instead of the same old war and peace 3D self consciousness shit, that humanity has dished up to its children, post man’s  first cave fart. The first female cave period as well. There was blood on the ground back then, and there’s a lot more blood on the fucking ground now, and that is not PROGRESS. Not in Gloddy’s astral book, it isn’t.

 

   

 

 

    So are we cool Dickus? Can I get on with this bloody transmission now? What’s that? We’re cool! The Pulp Fiction is over. You fucking bewty! Good boy Dickus! I’ll throw you a few more astral bones for that. How are you going lady D? Are yuse having a good one love? Is yuse enjoying the show Sweetie? Or does yuse feel the urge to rush off and scrub up and flower up and do your make up? So that you can attract a human bee. A companion/lover, and someone to love/hate, and someone to have great fucks/great ding dong real stoushy wousy fights with. Someone with a decent slonga/fanny adjacent to their arsehole too. A good breeder, or someone who really understands you, that is. That’s the raw truth of it, isn’t it love? What’s that D? Hey? Stop teasing you!

    Awwwww! D! Dora! Dora! Dora! What in the fuck are little/big girls for mate? If not to tell them that the I am the body idea is mind tool made junk and baby soul poo programming, and that every girl/woman or boy/man is a lot lot lot lot lot more than just one mere fucking humanoid body. At their mystical Source. Track it back from the manifested to the un manifested, my sweet lady D’Arbinville of a D, and behind the matrix you’re IT the SUPREME babe. Already! No need to prove it to anyone else then, hey. Just drop the charade about being one little itty bitty human and be It your natural real self/Self, again. It’s a dream come true Sweetie, in a roundabout mystical sort of way, where the ego has got nothing to do with any fucking thing. Hey? Because no matter what any cunt/prick says about yuse mate, or what they do to the body mind machine that yuse is hosting, yuse is It the blessed Light. Yuse is the Nameless One and the Real, fucking around on the unreal Earth. As a sheila. Hey gorgeous? Yuse is the Light of love Dora, because at mystical Source, that is what you and bonehead are made off. The chemicals to put the body together came from explosions in deep space, and then the consciousness which is all space exploded inwards and imploded itself into one tiny humanoid body, and then the mind tool dreamt up time and space, and the fucking 3D duality game was on. For yuse. It still is D. Hey?

    Diiiccckkkkk! I am the cloudy Watcher who is watching you, so don’t you fucking dare nod off! You little prick. Because that old cunt in the sky, Glodwrop the fucking Nebulous, is just getting warmed up. Don’t knock me boogie you buggers, or I’ll sic Satan onto yuse. Riigggghhhhttt! So where fucking were we in this fucking transmission of ethereal data, to yuse 2 mattered up Earth slobs? Hang on! Oh bugger bitch bum! Just let me check my astral notes. Hmmmmm! Oh yes! Oh yes! That was it! By cosmic fuck that was it! One minute yuse wasn’t taking y’self to be just a human body, and yuse was playing with the One life and having a pretty wonderful time, and then the next fucking minute, before you knew what in the fuck was going on mystically speaking, yuse was taking yuselves to be just a tubular body. 100 fucking % like. So that everything has become super serious and the stuff of drama queens, and yuse isn’t having a pretty wonderful time anymore, nor do you have a clue in hades about the fact that you are really the One life.

    Yuse is having a shit of a beautiful/horrible time, and life is not playing in a wunderbar play or a mesmerizing game anymore. It is just an unbelievably hard fucking gut wrenching slog, thru an anti-paradise. What the fuck happened crew? That your wonderful programming where you were playing with the One life like a fucking fairy, got replaced by a not so wonderful programme, where you have totally and absolutely forgotten that you and every other bugger and every other manifestation, is the One life. Hmmm! We need another vision troops, to sort this out. Oh hang on! Here’s one! Oh yeah! Come in spinner! Ho! Ho! Ho! Phooo! Heh! Heh! Heh! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! What naughty naughty naughty little buggers yuse were! Now this is definitely yuse two! Without a fucking doubt. Hey God! What the fuck is this fucking thing, time? It is. Your fingers were on the job early Dick! So were yours my lady. There was a lot more to do in the bath back then, than to just make bubble farts. Hey?

    Oh well! If you’ve got it, then you have to explore it. Hey? Otherwise, what’s the fucking point of having it to explore in the first place? Now what have yuse 2 got to explore? You’ve got the fake pseudo reality that is the Earth, and then yuse has got the fake pseudo reality that is the universe, and then you’ve got the great beyond. Which is out of bounds as far as word descriptions go, and is where those who have played your crud duality game and have cracked the matrix of its programme’s set up, and attained to cosmic consciousness, hang out. What? What that’s Dickus? Get on with the vision, you high up cloudy cunt! Stop astrally rambling on you old astral prick! Oi! Watch it my son! Watch it! Remember what I said before punk. Don’t stir up Glodwrop the fucking Nebulous, or you might get more than you fucking bargained for. You penile fucker! Be nice to old Gloddy, and old Gloddy will be nice to you, and spill the cosmic beans for yuse. You’ll shit the attainment of cosmic consciousness in then Bruce. So will the girl next door to you, lady Wendy, that is. Sorry D! Old habits die hard mate! I just couldn’t resist having another bit of an astral poke at yuse. I simply couldn’t. What’s that milady? Gloddy is a cloudy motherfucker! Yes! Yes! The fucker is! Damn happy about it too.  

                                                  Busted In The Bath Tub, By Mumsy Dearest

    HAW! HAW! HAW! So there yuse 2 are, as cute little angels, at either end of the bath tub. Exploring what yuse has got in between yuse legs. What the fuck is it? You don’t know, because you’ve got no name for it. You wouldn’t know the difference between a vagina and a penis and an atomic bomb that’s being flogged, in a flea market that’s full of human fleas, at the moment. By crikey, what a vision this is that old Gloddy is having, and I tell yuse what you little terrestrial buggers, it does bring back a memory or 2 of when I used to play your third dimensional game. Fond and cherished memories indeed they are. Ahhhh! The sex organs and sex, they certainly do fascinate the human being. Don’t they kids? Haw! Haw! Haw! Oh for Christ’s sake, if you pull it any harder Dick you’ll turn it into a six inch straw that would fit neatly into a small coke bottle. Or a big vegemite jar. Hey! Hang on! It has got stiff! It is like one of your building blocks now and it’s a lot fatter, and by Christ, has its molecular density increased somewhat. It’s a miracle! God! You could save the world with it, yuse could.

   What the fuck is going on, with this crazy body mind machine and its parts that yuse is hosting? As the Source, inner and outer and beyond, wider consciousness. That preceeds the I am a body virus, super getting to yuse. You don’t know. Do you Benjamin? Maybe you should give the crazy fucking thing a bit of a tug then, and get in some practice for later on, and just maybe, if yuse tug it the right way, it might tell you what the fuck is going on. It might say I am the COCK, and when I feel like getting hard, I’ll get hard, and there’s fuck all that you’ll be able to do about it. Cunt! Hey? It might spurt that out at yuse. It might elaborate further and go I am the HORN, and I fucking rule, and not you motherfucker. It might even crap on some more, and go I am replicator machinery, and I am available 24/7/365/364, and I am always ready ready ready! So apply here! It might say forget the mystical junk. That’s all bullshit! Yuse is just gunna die and then that’s it. There’s nothing else! So get out there you fucker, and get as many half decent roots as yuse can. If it has got a hole, then poke it like all fuck, because that’s what holes are for.

    I am the COCK and I am the poker of pokers, I am. It may crap on. That it can go flat out for 40 days and 40 nights with Cleopatra, whether she’s wearing her fucking snakes or not. So watch out Dick! There’s trouble coming from that stiff tube that you’ve got your fingers wrapped around. Big trouble! The moral of the story being that it is shit easy to poke the flesh, but shit hard to poke another dualistic mind, and to do it justice and maintain a sane relationship with it. That mortal lovers can become mortal enemies in a split second, and vice versa, illustrates clearly that that the third dimensional game plan is flawed. I am love/hate must get its throat slit, and I am made out of ethereal love and Light at Source must be super programmed into the dunny bowls in your respective psyches. That is ever so clear to the Nebby.

    Oh Dora! Dora! Dora! Mate! I can hardly watch. This is gut wrenching, even for those who don’t have any guts. Anymore. Tch! Tch! Tch! Can you get your fist up that strange big cave hole that is in between yuse legs mate, so early in the mortal life? Well I have to tell you lady D, that it looks like you’re about to find out. I thinketh that you’d best withdraw a bit love, before the Third World War breaks out. Go back to pulling your pissflaps around mate! It’s a lot safer. Or just tickle it! Then maybe you’ll hear that siren’s song that comes out of it. I am the beloved PUSSY! Replication machines apply HERE! That is. Line up you buggers, and I’ll fucking sort yuse out. You fuckers! I am the PUSSY and don’t fucking deceive yourselves, because I rule really. I’ve got what every cock wants! That’s why. I am woman, as a mind tool’s third dimensional projection, and it is why I am the Light behind the matrix of that pseudo presentation too.

    What a song Dora! What a game! What a play in consciousness that has you cast in it as a slave to a pussy. Who desires to have it all. Now! Watch out for the ego and its insatiable desires D, because they’ll all take you down pathways that angels fear to tread. The same to you bonehead.

    What’s that Dick? Hey! Gloddy is an astral bullshitter, and he’s making all of this up! How would you know, you little third dimensional faggot? Who will soon inherit the blessed cosmic consciousness, so that all confusion about life and what to do with it, will cease. You’re fucking lucky to remember how yesterday morning went for yuse Dicky, let alone recall what the fuck was going down 54 odd fucking years back. I am telling yuse that I am telling yuse exactly what I am seeing, that is all! I’m seeing it as clearly as if I was watching Inspector Rex on fucking SBS, and the fucking last thing that I want you to think right now is that you are anything special. Because I could scope any mongrel mortal, and view exactly THE SAME FUCKING THING. I could get the Pope up, or the Queen, or the President, or the PM, or all three Charlie’s Angels, and get into their fucking memory banks, and see how they did it what yuse is doing right now. In a mighty clear astral vision. OK!

    Look! Don’t freak out! You’ve done enough of that. I am merely trying to explain to you, how your cunt of a prick of a third dimensional game got going, that’s all. So have patience, like an arsehole does, for the next beloved turd to slide its way. Kiss kiss kiss that beloved turd, before it slides away into oblivion, is the game that the anus plays. For sure. Kiss kiss kiss! That’s a good game to play that one kids. Kiss kiss kiss! The Light, and the game is done. It is.

    Oh hang on! Here’s fucking trouble! Because it is not the Fat Controller that I see on the other side of the bathroom door, oh no! It’s mumsy dearest and she’s about to open the door and BUST YUSE!

    ‘Oh Dora! Dora! Dora! For God’s sake!’ she blurts out, and sweetie pie, have you ever seen the expression on her face that’s she’s wearing now? No yuse haven’t, have yuse? What’s her problem? You’re playing with yourself and she’s not, because she’s flat out being a slave mumsy dearest to you two little shits/angels. Could that be it? You don’t know. You was just finding out what a body mind machine is made out of. That’s all. Is the cave in the body as deep as the one in the future psyche will be? That’s all that you wanted to know.

   ‘Dora!’, she says, more sharply than you’ve ever heard her say the name that the Others gave you, before. ‘Leave your vagina/fanny/pussy/box/twat/vinny/udder/hole/cunt/whatever/etc alone! C’mon! Get your fingers out of there girl!’

    Dick! What in the fuck is up with you? What are you sniggering and laughing at? I wasn’t intending any pun. C’mon boy! Out with it! What has got you so light hearted and happy, all of a sudden? I mean, one moment you look and sound like a Dracula who hasn’t had a pint or two of the old red stuff for a while, and then the next minute you are camping it up with the down under chuckles, about something or fucking another. Meanwhile, me and the lady here, don’t know what the fuck is going on with yuse. I hope that you are not gunna go fucking schizo on me again Dick, and here’s a little secret. Don’t believe the mind, and don’t fear its light/dark interplay, because it is not you. It is not who you really are at Source. Where you are the Light, out of which all light/dark interplays wander.

    The mind is an awesome machine and a hard yakka worker Brutus. Quieten it right down with meditation, focus on the I am universal consciousness programme, and fine tune it to the Light that spawned it, and you’ll be right mate. D will be pissing in her knickers with the bliss of her awakening as well. Take what is outside of you right now, take all of those finite/infinite names and shapes, on and off the so called planet, and they are more YOU than the blood and organs and goo and brain, that are inside that skin bag that you 100% thinks that yuse is. Poo! That I am the body programme, yuse wanna delete that baby soul crap as quick as yuse can kids. The I am a cloud with their Free Floaters-Arsewiping Finito Binito license dangling from their neck’s programme, is what yuse wanna fucking get into now. Because I am into it and I tell yuse fucking what. It is a hot fucking programme it is. Me and Shorty, we’re having a freaker’s fucking ball fucking playing it. We fucking are! It only took me 95,666 game runs at that shit of a I am a body mind machine, in a cunt of a duality full of moronic pricks programme, that yuse is currently playing to do it, but I dun it in the end. So did Shorty, but it took him 999,999 shots at it. To get his access codes into this astral game right, that is. But the fucker dun it, eventually.

    What? What’s that you say punk? What Dickus? Gloddy is talking astral rubbish, because no self respecting mother on the planet would tell their infant female child that she’s got a cunt in between her legs. HOHH! Bullshit! Obviously Dick, you haven’t been floating around lately all invisible like, where old Gloddy has been floating around lately, all invisible like. I mean, you would think that you would see it all on a third dimensional female dunny wall, but you don’t. Whereas from the 4th dimension, you do. You see it all, and a lot lot lot more too. Besides that, you have to ask yourself if it would be a favour to a little lady, to let her know the truth right from the start.

    I mean, if two big burly muscle bound meathead blokes wanna go each other like bull mooses, they don’t call each other fucking vaginas! Do they? They call each other fucking cunts, because that’s what bull mooses who have a slightly higher intelligence would call each other, if they could fucking talk. The human talk. Now aside from all of that Dick the times that I played I am a woman in that cunt of a holographic 3D game that yuse is playing, the times when I was bleeding from me cave hole, I didn’t look down and say to myself fucking vagina! Or fucking pussy! Or anything soft and not up there with the moment, like that. Oh no! I looked down and I said to meself, you cunt of a fucking thing! I did. I called my own cunt a cunt, numerous times, in each and every one of the 47,833 times that I played I am a fucking third dimensional woman. I did! I’m not embarrassed by it either, and I’m pretty sure that a lot of other girls aren’t either.

    I knew! In each and every of those 47,833 game runs that I did as a sheila, that I was playing the harder cosmic programme, but did the men? No those dumb ass ignorant fucking cunts didn’t. I knew that I had the body programme that had haywire chemicals going everywhere in it, because the entire body machine was geared for replication, and its programme to do that was awesomely strong. I knew that I was in a world where the physically stronger robots had set up the civilisation programme to favour themselves, and then to top everything off, I had to endure that...that...that fucking bleeding. Like what else do you want for fucking Xmas! Do yuse wonder why I told Ralph and Alice to fuck off, when they suggested that I do my final run at your 3D game, as a sheila. Phooooeeeee! Now that’s a tough fucking cosmic game, that one is. So I told those high up pricks above my cloud, to fuck off. I did. I knew me astral fucking rights! I knew that I had one last Dick up me soul’s sleeve. I’m all bled out you cunts! I told them. You can shove that I am a 3D humanoid woman programme up y’fucking sky high fucking arses! I told the buggers. No cunt! I screamed at them, is ever going to blame me for man’s ignorance ever again. Man’s fucking ignorance is his own fucking doing! I stated, for the cosmic record. It is no one else’s, and it is a product of his baby soul fuckwit stage, that’s all. Man will rise sky high above the animal beast that is programmed into him, and he will become a player in the angel circuits again. So will fucking woman! I crapped on.

    I am going as a nice enough bloke, or I am not fucking going at all! That’s what I informed them, and for once the holographic weight was on Gloddy’s side, and Gloddy got that which was desired. Gloddy got a dick instead of a pussy and a superb set of norkas, and it was easier to piss and easier to walk around in a valley full of predatory male evil, and therefore it was easier to get off a shot at the game matrix, and that’s what fucking Gloddy done. I dun it, and now I want yuse 2 cunts to do it too. I want you out of that rank and foul smelling turd of a 3D programme that you’re playing, and I want you in this cool 4D one, with me and the astral Others, because like I said. Before! If between us we can’t raise up the intuitive awareness and the multidimensional vibratory rate of the participants in the current 3D game, we could all be cosmically rooted. The 3D programme could implode, and suck the 4D programme into its vortex, and the 5D non dual all light programme that we are all aiming at, will be completely out of the cosmic picture. Again! Fuck me! That would be the end of our Hyde Park in the sky, it would. There would be no more footy and no more cricket and Jesus, what would you use to vegie out on then Dick? Hey? The TV is rooted and feeds up a moron’s stew of superficial nonsense, that reinforces the I am a fucked member of a fucked species on a fucked world programme, so you’d probably have to go back to playing marbles to get y’kicks mate. Hey? What’s that?

    George Gently is ok. Oh yeah! George is all right. Me and Shorty don’t mind George. Hey? Come again! Dexter’s cool! Fucking Dexter! Yeah! He’s cool, but he’s a cunt at the same time. Isn’t he? He’s a good cunt though, and everyone loves revenge and sweet Earth justice, when they should be loving the Real. Instead.

                                                       

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                     Busted In The Bath Tub, By Mumsy Dearest. 2

    ‘Oh Dick!’ Says your old lady to you Dickus. ‘Leave your penis/dick/cock/slonga/tool/prick/oldfella or whatever, alone!’ What’s her problem mate? Why is she scowling at yuse? What the fuck have you done, that has so displeased her? You don’t know, do you? You were just investigating how much mileage you could get out of the little sausage that’s in between your legs. Hey? Isn’t the old man giving the bitch enough these days, or something? Or is she falling asleep from physical/mental and emotional exhaustion, even before he’s slipped it up her? You don’t know, do you?