Se muestran los artículos pertenecientes a Octubre de 2013.
Behind the Bush: Aleister Crowley, Yeats, the Anti Christ & Armageddon
By Jack Heart – Part 1
There are 9 parts to this essay. If you read all nine of them you will know what you were never meant to know or at least what they meant for you to never know. This essay could have just as easily been titled the Jew and the Snake. But I want to be clear that when I use the word Jew I mean Talmudic Jew and their Rabbi’s; the priesthood of a “blind and ignorant God.” Technically I myself am a Messianic Jew but I fear I may be the last one left on earth.
“Let us look each other in the face. We are Hyperboreans” thus began Fredrich Nietzsche in The Antichrist his declaration of war upon Christianity or more precisely Judeo Christianity. In sixty two paragraphs he turns the most formidable mind the world has yet seen loose in a scorched earth campaign against every notion that has ever been used to enslave and degrade man for the last two millennium. The problem is you were never supposed to see it. Shortly after writing it he would go stark raving mad, an ignoble and abrupt ending to the greatest intellect the world had ever known.
A year before The Antichrist was published and a few years after it was actually written Brother of the Third Degree was published. The book is required reading before going any further into the initiation of any authentic Masonic Order. I do not mean the “Rosicrucian” societies and various “Knights Templar” clubs where the overindulged children of privilege play at being Magi. I mean the ones that trace their lineage all the way back to the Brotherhood of the Snake first referenced in writing in the ancient Sumerian cuneiform.
In Brother of the Third Degree there is a very thinly veiled reference to a famous German “mathematician” who after undergoing initiation started publishing their secrets in his work. He is poisoned with something to make him go permanently insane. Only Nietzsche’s close circle of friends had known what was in the Anti Christ at the time Brother of the Third Degree was written. But 1888 was a year in which Nietzsche had put out a prodigious amount of work, his best work by most accounts. His mental breakdown is one of the most inexplicable events in the history of academia and its causes are still debated today.
Nietzsche did not seek them out. It was the famous occultist and composer Richard Wagner who sought Nietzsche out through the mad poet Ernst Ortlepp. Ortlepp would be found dead in a ditch a few weeks after meeting Nietzsche. They cover their tracks well as you shall see. But it was through Wagner Nietzsche was introduced to their secret agenda and stash of ancient manuscripts.
Nietzsche was born into the order as most of those who are in it are but he was more than capable of arriving at the conclusions of his magnum opus without them. In fact he openly scoffs at Wagner in both the essay and The Case of Wagner; the last piece he published before he went insane.
Nietzsche displaying the hidden hand when he was still just a teenager.
Almost a century later a young Jewish poet would take the name Bob Dylan and proceed to handle the English language in ways that would have made even “Shakespeare” envious. Again they sought Dylan out through the inexplicably famous Allen Ginsberg with his bad poetry and their counterfeit “flower power” revolution.
When Dylan learned everything he needed to know of their true agenda he rejected them with a scathing indictment of their crimes against humanity called Blood on the Tracks. Just like his hero Dante, the greatest of all poets, did almost a thousand years before when he condemned them all to hell in the Inferno. Shortly thereafter Dylan would become the singing artichoke ranting incoherently about people stoning him and becoming a born again Christian. He has not made any sense since and never will.
I know these things and the things I’m about to tell you because I laughed along with them when right out of high school we first heard Frank Zappa sing “Wanna buy some Mandys, Bob?” We were sitting right next door to the house you all call the Amityville Horror House, in my best friend’s house, a house I grew up in.
I can’t say much more about me until or if they ever publish my book but are some of you beginning to get the picture now? Good because Nietzsche didn’t write The Antichrist for his own generation. He states that right in the preface. He wrote it for only the select few of the coming race. The ones Hitler told his bodyguard that they must fight on for right before Hitler disappeared into the distorted pages of history.
In the thirteenth year of the twenty-first century we stand in the doorway to oblivion. We look into the yawning abyss and wonder how we got here. The Christian prophesy’s of Armageddon now seem a foregone conclusion as the army’s of the globe gather around the “holy land” in a simmering cauldron of lies, deceit and malice.
Fools mutter about the judgments of Abrahams malignant God. But it was men who brought us to this place, men who curse that God’s days and are ready to rise up their own morning. There have always been such men; those who curse the day, “Those who are ready to arouse Leviathan.” But it was a man named Aleister Crowley who finally put it all together.
Exactly what did Crowley do? Ozzy Osborn knew enough to ask the question “I wanna know what you meant.” But I doubt he was capable of understanding the answer. He was probably satisfied with Dubya’s explanation, whatever it was, when he left the White House on May 4, 2002 basking in Dubya’s cryptic public endorsement “Ozzy, Mom loves your stuff.”
Crowley is the eight hundred pound gorilla in the room that gets ignored when they tell you about WWI and WWII. But no one’s going to send a missionary to their livestock. You will not dine with the queen tomorrow nor fly to the Riviera at the duke of Westminster’s expense. And the Bush’s, they would prefer that you just go on killing for them till they kill you.
W B Yeats was perhaps the greatest poet in the English language. Yeats and Crowley spent their lives working towards the same end and started out as brothers in Magick. They ended up sharing a mutual loathing of each other. Yeats thought Crowley out of control to the point of madness and completely amoral while Crowley thought Yeats pompous and in gross overestimation of his own abilities. Apparently they both knew each other well.
Crowley in the course of his prolific writing said much, far more than his aristocratic followers wanted him to say. But in the end Crowley only said what he wanted to say, Yeats being the artist that he was left every piece of his soul on the pages of his work. So let us start with Yeats.
The coda line of Yeats poem The Second Coming “And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? ” may be the most quoted line in English literature. Intellectual gymnastics abound in attempts at its interpretation but in order to understand Yeats words it takes more than a cursory understanding of the occult traditions to which Yeats spent a lifetime steeping in.
Written in 1920 and published in 1921 The Second Coming was one of fifteen poems in a collection titled Michael Robartes and the Dancer. To understand the poems meaning it must be taken in context with the other poems in the collection which it appears. It is no different from concept albums of the late sixties and early seventies like those released by The Who, Dylan and others. The collection merges Magick, sex and WWI all inextricably bound together in a dark spell intended to conjure a reckoning with the God of this world.
Magick is the way the Golden Dawn spelled the word magic in order to delineate the religion from parlor tricks where rabbits are pulled from hats. Yeats devoted his life to the teachings of the Golden Dawn. To say it was an obsession for him would be an understatement. The title of the collection should tell Yeats more knowledgeable readers that he is dealing with resurrection. Yeats had already killed Robartes at the onset of WWI.
According to Yeats “Michael Robartes is the pride of the imagination brooding upon the greatness of its possessions, or the adoration of the Magi.” That quote is from The Wind Among The Reads written in 1899. But as Yeats became more enmeshed in the occult Robartes took on an identity of his own.
In 1913 Yeats wrote a short story titled Rosa Alchemica. In the story Robartes appears at his door after a 15 year hiatus and forces Yeats with mind bending incenses to accompany him to a temple by the seaside where they are besieged by an irate Christian mob. During the night Yeats participates in a ceremonial ritual with a cult similar to the Golden Dawn. When he awakens in the morning he finds that the ornate temple has now become an old barn and he is unable to rouse Robartes and the rest of the cult who are in a trance like sleep. As Yeats flees Robartes and the cult are stoned to death by an enraged Christian mob.
By 1913 Michael Robartes was no longer Yeats muse. He had metastasized into one of the Golden Dawns infamous hidden masters, the praeterhuman entities whose disputed existence and direction caused a schism within the group. Robartes now has his own agenda and when Yeats asks him why he doesn’t fear the Christian mob Robartes replies “I and mine are long past human hurt or help, being incorporate with immortal spirits, and when we die it shall be the consummation of the supreme work.” Robartes agenda so frightens Yeats that he finds it necessary, for his own reassurance, to symbolically condemn his life’s work as a fraud and orchestrate Robartes death at the hands of a Christian mob.
At the end of the story Yeats delivers Robartes eulogy as a reflection of his own vacillation renouncing the deception of “Legion” rapped in the imaginary protection of his Christian rosary beads. Yeats trepidations did not last long. As we shall see by 1916 he was straining at the bit to pull off the “great work” single handedly.
According to Rosicrucian writings which along with William Wynn Westcott’s translation of the Sepher Yetzirah spawned the Golden Dawn the great work can be understood as an “evolutionary” adjustment that transcends generations designed to bring about the resurrection of the hermaphroditic super beings that were the predecessor of man. The ones the Greeks called Hyperborean’s.
The prerequisite of the great work is to bring about the birth of Horus the Avenger. It is he who will slay God to avenge the murder of his father Osiris the God of light and widowing of his mother Isis the Goddess of Magick.
In the eyes of the Magi every organic organism from the time of that blasphemous usurpation has been forced to participate in a self perpetuating cycle of murder. The collective soul has been bound to a world where every living thing must consume the nearest next available living thing to continue its own existence.
Life itself is nothing but cursed to be born again and again into endless perdition. The architect was mad and the construction the product of an incompetent imposter who would dare call himself the one true God.
The ancient Hebrew sages had another name for him. They called him Samael; blind ignorant God. That is why they perpetually rebelled against Moses. They knew the God of Abraham for what he really was, a blood thirsty demon. This is the darkest secret of the doctrine called Gnosticism; rites that were practiced in the underground catacombs of Rome. The subterranean mysteries trapped between heaven and hell that would become the seeds of their own antithesis; Christianity.
The Sphinx is the symbol from a time out of mind when Osiris ruled over beings that were living Gods. Dante once said that every man’s heart is halved at birth and he must spend his life seeking the other half. When Osiris reigned that was not necessary. Men were born whole. It was a time of light, the time of science. Not the idiotic monkey sciences of today that are just as bad as the faith based religions they would supplant but real science, the science that was rediscovered by the Copenhagen School of quantum physics.
Three hundred years ago a philosopher and Christian shaman named George Berkeley first postulated the idea that matter, corporeal substance, the things man finds so familiar and comforting to behold and to touch, are only ideas in the mind of the beholder. Berkeley’s revelation was called immaterialism. Now it’s called quantum physics. For two hundred years philosophers tried in vain to refute him for the last one hundred years quantum physicists have been proving him correct.
The ‘Slit Experiment’ proves that what man calls matter is intimately entwined with those that are observing it. ‘Bells Theorem’ proves matter has no location at its source, ‘Quantum Entanglement’ that everything is everything else. Time, and space itself, are constructs of the observer. Nothing can exist if there is nothing to see it. As Berkeley said “esse est percipi,” to be is to be perceived.
C G Jung translated all of the ancient alchemical texts he could lay his hands on. As the brilliant psychiatrist he was Jung knew intuitively that gold is used in them as a euphemism for the soul. Alchemy was not a pseudoscience but a religion practiced by all the learned men of the renascence including Isaac Newton himself. Its tenets were concealed from the unwashed masses by obscure symbolism that could only be understood by its practitioners.
Jung translated the manuscripts from Latin. Before him men like Paracelsus, Nicholas Flamel, Raymond Lully, and John Dee, translated them from Aramaic to Latin. Semitic scribes had already translated them from the languages, many long dead, in which they had originally appeared in the Library of Alexandria. There they had been gathered together as the spoils of war by Alexander’s invincible Macedonian armies.
These men used that knowledge to bring the renascence to the western world, men of fearsome intellect, fearsome enough to defy even the pope. Some paid for it with their lives like Giordano Bruno but none ever bowed to the pope like Galileo. They did not need a Pontifex Maximus to bridge the gap to the sublime. These men were already there. They were, to paraphrase Nietzsche in Thus Spake Zarathustra; great golden beasts who no longer need a God because they are not afraid to be their own God or as Edward Bulwer-Lytton said “the coming race.”
God will not just abdicate his throne. In order for man to ascend back to his rightful place he must depose of God. Yeats knew it, Crowley knew it, the Illuminati knew it before them and anyone who has ever known what was in those manuscripts knew it. Turning metal into gold indeed but gold is just a rock. The idea is to turn men into Gods.
Therein lays the conspiracy of the conspiracy. It’s not against you. They have owned you for thousands of years. Their God gave you to them to keep them amused. You are and will be just collateral damage. Within those manuscripts is the secret for creating, no resurrecting it has lived before, a super being the crowned and conquering child, the only thing that their God fears according to the Zohar itself; the Son of Man or if you prefer the Book of Job, Leviathan.
You think this madness? I think you blind. As Dylan told you “your mind is full of images and distorted facts.” You think you are descended from a monkey then I think you very well may be but I must tell you now better to be descended from a dog. A dog does not need a diaper if he is to share your home. A dog will almost never turn on you and chew your face off. A dog will defend your children and help a blind man across the street. A dog will even tend to your animals. A dog will willingly die for you. Have you ever seen a monkey do any of those things?
There are reptiles that are smarter than monkeys. Crocodiles find them quite tasty. And if you believe in evolution there are reptiles that are smarter than you. Darwin never intended for the theory of evolution to include you. He wanted to wait and see what the fossil record had to say. It’s been almost a hundred and fifty years now and that record has spoken quite clearly “there is no missing link!”
Evolution itself is an untenable theory. Darwin’s finches never became anything but finches, the same thing with the cichlids in Lake Tanzania. Given millions upon millions of years they remained the same species. Animals adapt they do not evolve. A cichlid must stay a cichlid. It can never be a shark or even a goldfish. It’s the same thing with the finches. Alas they can never be an eagle, or even a sparrow.
You have never even heard of Charles Otis Whitman a brilliant biologist and zoologist. If actually accomplishing things is your criterion he was far more brilliant than Darwin or any of his monkey worshiping colleagues. In the late nineteenth century he set about to once and for all prove evolution as a fact in his specialty the breeding of pigeons. After about twenty years Whitman finally gave up and concluded evolution was nonsense.
From every media pulpit trained poodles posing as scientists repeat their obscene mantra that humans and chimpanzees share 96% of the same genetic material. But medical doctors whose job it is to save lives use only the organs of pigs when repairing the human heart. When the conquistadors were weaning the cannibalistic Aztecs from their diet of human flesh they gave them pig as a substitute. They taste very similar as certain Rabbi’s already know.
The evidence is starring you dead in the face yet you cannot see it, flashing lights, ringing bells and sensuous phantoms conceal the treasure of your birthright. In every far flung corner of the earth there is “Evidence of the Fall of Man from a Higher Civilization in Antiquity.” Read the book it’s by Lana Corrine Cantrell.
And in every far flung corner of the world the Jews and their agents have been there to cover it up! Hitler did not pull them from a hat to play arch villain for him. He merely pointed out the facts as he knew them. The internet will allow me to point out the facts that he did not know.
Michael Cremo and Richard L Thompson also wrote a book; Forbidden Archeology. There they expose the lies that have been told to you by charlatan chimps posing as scientists in the service of their Jewish master’s. In meticulous empirical fashion they lay out the systematic campaign of suppression of any and all evidence that might contradict academia’s ridiculous theory, which rightly should be called their lie, that civilization is only 10,000 years old. The book is to evolutionists, peudoscientists, as a cross is to TV vampires. They cannot refute it. They can only recoil from it in horror and pray to their monkey God that you never will read or even hear of it.
You are not made in their God’s image he is made in yours. It is you who have fallen from a realm which the blasphemous God of the Jews can never reach. He is no God at all but a demon parasite that feeds on your life force in the same manner his chosen people feast upon the meager sustenance he has provided for your maintenance. And just like his people he is a glutton. His patriarchs once lived for a thousand years. You will not live a hundred.
It’s not your fault you are an idiot. Always remember what Dylan said “your mind is full of images and distorted facts.” “You’re an idiot babe it’s a wonder that you still know how to breathe.”
I have looked out from behind these eyes for 54 years. I am weary now. I’ve seen things that no man should ever see and those are just the things I remember. I have PTSD right down to my very soul. I got more metal in me than a pentagon peacock wears on his chest and I am racked by pain from my head down to my toes. But rest assured while I write this I will not take as much as a sip from a beer. This is for you, men who fight, men who are not afraid to die; the only kind of man who is worthy of respect, the only kind of man who is worthy to rule. This is a new world with new rules and it’s yours if only got what it takes to take it.
Just read this news...comes so unexpected ...it´s a bit of a shock, i was born also on march 2nd and this man has always reached some inner side of me ever since those days one summer back in 79 we would smoke ourselves till dawn with his Berlin LP on.That record has stuck with me ever since , and well of course what not to say of those hours with the girlfriend in the car hands walking in the wild sides....and his Rock´n Roll Animal live....still can lift you up when you need it
Unexpected? No. He had a liver transplant in May and was an ex-junkie.
Sad? Of course, he was a genius, one of rock’s few genuine originals, an uncompromising, always stimulating artist. He leaves behind an incomparable body of work and some amazing memories.
Yes, I was going to post in my anecday of the dote thread.
I knew Lou had the liver transplant, and I knew about his subsequent condition. I also knew about some private things.
As far as what Bobby and Lou may have had in common - Firstly, not everyone who performed that night at the 30th Anniversary Concert was invited by/known to Dylan.
They are both Jewish men. Lou Reed’s parents were "Conservative" Jews (to the unknowing, that isn’t a political stance, but a moderated form of observance in comparison to "Orthodox" Judaism.) Lou was very "into" Dylan in the early 1960s. He was playing music and would use the "harmonica rack," which he subsequently abandoned because he thought it would identify him too closely to a Dylan image.
Lou studied at Syracuse University. I don’t know if he attended any Dylan concerts during those years. I do know, very well, that Lou Reed was enamoured of certain writers and poets, none more than one of his teachers at Syracuse - Delmore Schwartz.
Lou had already been through electro-shock treatment, and he was probably still at teenager when he started to use. Darkly, if this gives him and Bobby some connection, well so be it. Certainly, Lou Reed was far more entrenched and entangled with a long-term addiction.
I do know that, while Lou mostly lived on the Lower East Side (area of Manhattan) and Bobby was living in the West Village (Greenwich Village), as well as spending time in/near Woodstock, New York and had become a performer of worldwide reputation who was touring, there was, at least, one person I know who still lives in an apartment building where Bobby would visit. Lou also visited, because Andy Warhol came around, Nico lived there for some time, Bob Neuwirth came around, Zal Yanovsky, and others. My friend told me how the doors (to many of the apartments) would be open. There was a, literal, sort of inspirational osmosis. It wasn’t all pleasant, for sure.
Jumping ahead - Lou and Bobby are "documented" talking (well someone was talking) (didn’t I post some video?) backstage at the "Farm Aid" concert.
The night of the 30th Anniversary Concert, after Lou had switched his song choice to Foot of Pride, he got very concerned that he wouldn’t have visual documentation of the performance. A friend of mine had a live feed going to his place and a VCR setup to record the show. Lou, still jittery about the fact this might not get properly documented, sent mutual friend (well a somewhat beloved figure on the fringe of Bobby’s vest), to make sure the recording equipment was infallable.
For something else in common - I actual got to hear Lou in performance only once. A few years back, as part of a concert tribute to the "Freedom Riders."
A wondrous song that Bobby also covered one night in New York - Sam Cooke’s A Change Is Gonna Come.
Oh, they both were known to have a drink at the White Horse Tavern.
Lou Reed’s death is a good reminder that life is for living, loving and riding motorcycles :). Seems to me that the last thing Lou would want is to ’Rest In Peace’, so I hope you’re rocking out and I hope I remember to do the same.
Doo do doo, doo do doo, doo do doo