The miracle at Chaplins

The truth was clear.

All of it...

Everyone... was fucked...

But... that was just reality being reality, and thus, with the pioneering standards of the British resolve, adaption, and application pro squad, everything could still be rendered, at least for a time, to perfect beauty of reason, and appreciation, and adoration, of fine things.

Under God.

The head honcho.

The numero uno.

The magna veritas.

The spirit ubiquitous.

The holy process of conscience, as a bioborg, in a modern scene of conscious sentient existence.

I pressed on. Diligently, through the urban roads at night, crying with laughter at the poverty of drunken, partying men, as eternal as it ever was for the perspectives of their kind.

But I was an ultra elite. A demi God. A human incarnate spirit of divine touch, graced upon the universe by which to wield the power the the awesome holy spirit of God the almighty within, on, and everywhere, around earth.

(The sentient planet).

I knew shit. Shit that was real. And it'd take a main doosey to take away from the level of illuminated reality that I had been privy to.

Fantastic stuff... The almighty boon of the almighty knowledge of the illuminati, where conspiracy in the agents of ignorance and hatred is always our greatest foe... and they could even be our neighbours. So watch your vectors.

No no. The secret of the illuminati is a process in divine reality called 'haloing'. It is very real to the blessed recipient, and has nothing to do with worshipping the sun.

Anyone who thinks that in truth is a moron. Imbecile. Total tosspot and ignorati.

The illuminati, are here to stay, not because they are evil, or wicked, or part of an elaborate conspiracy, but because they are the chosen one's under God in truth.

Fact.

No human wields a halo in knowledge without knowing there's a very real God.

Fact #2.

If you know the splendid sensuous passion of a kiss between man and woman, you know the breath of God, concentrated, into joyous love, being harmoniously spread between replicating species within his creation.

The feeling is so monumental, when both parties are on heat, and reciprocating, that the male erection can inflate faster than a Jet Fighter prepares for a Mach One fly by.

The swelling of the glands, in a public moment, when riddled with liberty and freedom, is the source of the ultra party, in some sense... but... and I advise wise caution here... A moment thrill of passion, in some cases, can lead to an era of nightmares. So be careful where you anarchically, and subconsciously stroke your physical adores... For in the valley of the blind, the one eyed man may be king, but his men have advanced hearing vectors.

So he trusts in the process. For even in the valley of the blind the people have a king.

I am your king... And I say this with highly modernised dual eye contemporary vision.

Take care of yourselves.

Do not go hurling into that mad night with raging hatred for anything of knowledge.

Undertake peace like a master cultivates his lawn.

Peace is not just a 'nice idea'. It is a 'physical action'.

Everything we do, unless the shit has really hit the fan, is about peace.

Humanity, innately, and in massive numbers adores peace.

We all, generally, all eight billion of us GEL VERY WELL... If we're honest with our human hopes and fears.

You are in many part a splendid, thoughtful, talented, desirous and tender lot, all sparkling to the eyes of passion...

But 'self-control' is a Jedi Christian boon for a reason.

And that is the effort of knowledge I seek to teach the world, due to awareness of the forces.

'Anarchic passions' have been defined, as 'they which cause social mayhem'.

'Love' however, is another blessing.

'Self-control' is the knowledge of self, THRONED into the seat of good behaviour. Under moral rectitude of fine conscience.

Yet the passions betwixt the palpitating hearts of life are random and varied.

I sometimes feel like I can see them all, on a computer screen in my mind. People, in their casual daily moments, falling in and out of love during 'spark moments'.

I am compelled by the captivation of witness to this truth, and delight in the presence of their beings. (However fifth dimensional).

I strive to honour the spirit with the glad appreciation of joy and verve it deserves, and throughout all my pain, all my errors, all the madness of sufferance in mind which causes me to suffer... I hold on... Because, I know... This holy almighty sentient gargantuan space time algorithm, is a divine protector shield for the souls of man under God the tester...

I have done everything in Christianity he asked of us via the blessings of Jesus.

I have loved God with all my heart. I have, I really have, and he knows it. I know my sufferances are generally down to my errors, but God knows in Heaven alone I love him.

Deeply.

And you know what?

He loves me.

I would already be dead and in Hell if he didn't.

But no... I am radiating, like an angelic power pearl of biphotonic light... I dream in part the wonders of a million men, and protect their hopes accordingly.

'Johnny, take a look at this...'

'What is it?'

"It's a cordial unit semi-demographic visual... Shows and displays all the sub vector graphical displays at the pictorial level..."

"I see... What is that?"

"That's a dialectical curve. The element of red is chosen to suggest negativity in this instance, although, when red is used to demonstrate the power of good in film and TV, it is mostly down to the bonnet repeating light on Knight Rider's car, which makes Monsieur Hasselhoff a potential 'elite commie knight'.

But back to the present. The dull canard.

Wallowing, between mind temples of thrill, allocating full force chi to the very beauty of thriving within existence.

The balance of the cosmic, thoughtful forces of perfect truthful insight and balance, long term, and then some.

And that is what we do here at 'Future Inc.' - We design the future.

'You don't have the rights...'

'Oh no? Who does?'.

I had to evocate my soul to reason, by which to finalise the passing of the terms.

No one could answer in truth, thus suggesting that we are all free to help coalesce and manifest the future.

Indeed, the future was projected in massive global polarised part, by human subconscious positive intellect.

You cannot have this modern miracle of high tech uber prowess for BILLIONS without evidence of either a wonderful, loving, powerful ultra God, or something very evil indeed, and I don't believe in the latter.

I would rather be destroyed and killed than accept the way of Satanism.

I stand with the truth as I see it under the atmospheric deity of God the almighty creator. For that is a name he implied he was.

I do not desire death among the glorious, good, innocent, naive, or simple. I do not desire death, full stop. I just wish people would dance in the streets a bit more.

We pressed on. Diligently, through the urban night of musical beauty. The fabulous singer enchanting a pub with a liquor fuel of divinely inspired female human voice.

We're talking sirens on ultra amp level eleven.

The wonderment of the sensations through my angelic body were desirous and pleasant on so many well communicated and pleasant communications between a variety of people.

Yes, some rather chavesque ladies pointed out I had a small penis behind my back, as if I didn't know, but generally, when it swelled in a moment of sheer hot sex passion when a drunken female party animal graced my wrist with her desiring hand, I was soaked in a moment of cum and blood rushing to all organs.

That, is the vulgar definition, of sexual arousal.

To put a more classy, holistic positive spin on the very exciting moment, 'the spirit of love thrilled in the free moment... So adored under love of truth was the thrilling of the glands.'

But we are military men.

We must remain disciplined, and watch our guard.

Do not go swiftly into that carnal orgy my friends, lest be consumed by methods of wild regret under the power of conscii*.

(*Conscii: A double conscience, which, when schizophrenic, is an unbelievable thing to handle).

The lads pressed on... Duelling in the night with their excitable notions of enthusiasm.

They were right to enjoy all dangerous thrills in late night forests. Test of man, in some senses.

Everyone could die at any moment, sure... but if you keep actually cogitating and moving forward, everything's swell.

(Usually).

He swayed to his weary guts. Too long. Too damn long drinking at 'Lonesome Ridge', where the Jews whinge about our loving Christianity, and the Satanists deal crack thinking Nazism is 'trendy'.

What a load of bollocks.

Honestly, all of you, grow up. You're all embarrassing to the uber Lord of omniscience. I am convinced. The very fact you presume to deal with either cultural tribal association, is evidence of dual ignorance, spread, like a whores waffle over the society of hate.

Shut up.

We role on high vectors called 'Elaborate beauty of soul appreciation within a divine appreciation of 'actuality''. The frogs in the forest create the most loving croaks in the time of tadpole creation. The rutting of the deer can be heard by a stag's caw if you're lucky to be living in a field with a paddock, which he selects as the territory for his passion making amid the herd. The badgers, are so stealth, they are seen on very rare and precious occasion.

That was the night it all changed for me, after all.

When I faced down a stag, grunting, and standing majestic like a proper monumental beast of the forest, in the middle of the road at night.

Illuminated not just by the car lights, but the car lights interacting with the late night mist, as he snorted a plume of air.

There I was, man versus stag, and he was looking right at me.

I held my ground, and waited, engine revving gently all the while.

I was in awe of the majestic creature, and I felt as if in a holy moment like the spiritual professionalism of the 1980's British adaption of Robin Hood, where Enya and Clannad were first discovered.

The stag snorted in a huff, and walked away, and I exhaled in relief.

Then it occurred to me. The stag was jealous of me, and knew who I was, because, being amazing, one night very inebriated at my father's home, I brought a field of deer to solace after calling out their names in heartfelt care.

I had emerged from a shed and heard a thundering of field.

'What the Hell is that?' I wondered, legitimately.

I looked to my right, and a herd of about thirty deer are running away from me.

I saw their innocence of nature, and marvel of God's creation, and in my enjoyable partial momentary 'swell of the soul', I cried out 'Dudes!'.

They ALL stopped at once, and turned to see me.

It was that experience, which lead me to believe, if the stag was a jealous stag.

Let it be known though. I have never had sexual coitus with an animal.

I'm just not that well endowed.