"We" cave men, who paint our saga in excrement, thus enter Proletariat~

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL

The order was set, the order was known, there was no, getting around it. Then came want, thus blossomed desire, the flower, the rose, stemmed forth, that divisionary Rosy Cross. The sacrifices began in the moment of that day, that day, which the masses fight within themselves, now as slaves, in an overpopulated Kingdom. The water is, as red as the rose. Blood flows through every street, every canal, every moment taken for granted, ironically so, the rest, for a day, perhaps a season, can pretend, there is no God, that they can stand solitary, and alone.

The good fight as with the good community makes the sacrifice a noble one, thus to convince the masses, that this is indeed what be taking place, in the solitude of the proletariat's "tired footed" off time. The people rest, but to repeat another 3.3 day cycle, disguised as "the 7 day week". The children disappear, drams stays near and...

With the echoes of the amplifiers 
ringing in your head
You smoke the day's last cigarette,
 remembering what she said
What she said............


 We are on the precipice of something spectacular? If in the sense that womb-man, the embodiment of sound, and Man the living example of light, living and expressing through bioorganism, may find common ground? This event would occur during a true polarity shift, of which Kali Yuga already makes plans, to destroy the light, in her never ending objection, for never having it within her, without Man....Then indeed it be so, that a change be in "order", but not for the sake, of further chaos, as to prove another dead end notion, a feeling, that "capricious whim", the unwise "intuition", absent of "a sense".
 For just as Jet propulsion, pressed forth from the very annals of black magick, this be the very expression "opening the door that should have never been opened", thus too, womb-man no longer driven by the demonic impulse to "out due Man", no longer will these forces which make the impossible possible, thus be conjured upon. This shown in repeat, those now hidden codex of Rosicrucian "order", demonic scrimshaw symbolic rhetoric, showing none other than womb-man standing there, still uncertain, before Pandora's box, or could it be no different than the "Hellraiser Cube", the same black cube worshipped in Mecca today?

, 
http://www.arrowheadvintage.com/2012/08/now-reading-holy-places.html


It all begins with a call, when the call be echoed into sisterhood, the craft seems to take on a form of it's own. The light must indeed cancel out, thus meet with the sound, and the sound of light must have that resonant Tone, manifest in the form...of unseen heavenly trails.

Thus to beckon haste!?

The call?

As to, 
"Become a Brand or Die!"
or, we chose that lesser role for order?~

pro·le·tar·i·at

ˌprōləˈterēət/

noun

1. workers or working-class people, regarded collectively (often used with reference to Marxism).

   "the growth of the industrial proletariat"

   synonyms:

   the workers, working-class people, wage earners, the working classes,the common people, the lower classes, the masses, the rank and file, the third estate, the plebeians; More

   • the lowest class of citizens in ancient Rome.

 Do you not think, that the most evil Man, being also, as we have well established, "that one capable of good deeds in proportion", ah the Mason "rule" would have not destroyed evil when first in the face of it? It wasn't that he could not, but to find that area where there be a separation at all? One, in the most profound moment, will realize, upon following the trail, a full 360, they have come, hence the 3/4 spin. This realization, defining his synthetic stamp, that place where he "ends" occurred in fact prior to his intellectual arrivement, as such a "fact". For this was the event, the expression, of who he is, in the grand facade, which turned him "evil" in the first...that one cast towards sin, by the higher mind, to find the sign?

That is, those, Elite, made such by this cause, shall only spin the sphere so far, as to thus and then employ those who will be the inheritors of this condemnation, upon completion of "the spin" of course. The arbitrator seems but never present, to they? The place, this place, this world,  can not be mended, it is a house which rests not, for there be no foundation, the uneasiness in the suspension. So "we" use what "we" have, our very imagination in fact, to fill in the rest, of the blanks, which are not blank, but it brings such ease to think so.  "We" persist, refuse to see, generationally , as to "evolve" around the notion. Thus revealing this mid place, this mid zone, as that mundane ticking of the black middle school, set in the counselors office...that slow boring grind of socialism in it's complete spin, our chosen world government order, thus to elect sociopath as "our" collective "personality".~

 The true, and committed slave, to society, that one given name "proletariat", understands full well about refuse and recycle, he make it his damn business. He thinking all thoughts be original thoughts, as his lesser, yet societal proclaimed equal, among him. Among him full well, for they run the shops. and turn the wheels. The best of them burn money right before you, in festival in fact. As soon as the wallet is full, the contents should be obsolete, repeat process with a greater "amount of burn", there should not be char left, from the flame, of "independence".

 Independent from what exactly? Each, from a different time, and area would state something entirely different his "time traveling" counterparts. In the end, independence, can only be admitted, through the expansive course of time, to be but rebellion as in "The peoples uprising", for finally they have had enough. Enough of what? The people, that is the vast majority of society, all but a handful of useless souls who keep the world afloat in fact, are the ones who created the ideas as they drew the first art from the excrement which they shamelessly flushed out. This seems to be the statement as a successful middle class patron, low proletariat, that is, to shamelessly stand on a stage, talentless, G.G. Alin had but to shock a bit more, so that then, the full effect of this slave class rebel yell, would turn into a money burning bonfire of the vanities.

The flow goes on, the currency be sacrifice, the lives affected mean very little, one can not fly above nor below the radar. The "beautiful" through this chaos in order, become the ugly, "the changing of the guard?"..in the next "polarity shift", of which we are quickly traveling towards the edge of the next "time dimensional rift".

And so, begins again?~