Life exists throughout the Universe, distributed via space dust from meteoroids, asteroids and comets.
Literally seeding the earth with life from other worlds. This process is named PANSPERMIA.
We are now being seeded for the next evolutionary jump in human consciousness, this semen from the stars has infested our planet in preparation for THE GREAT PURIFICATION
Microbial forms cluster themselves upon the backs of comets and meteorites, the cascading dust emanating from the comets COMA rains down upon the earth literally infesting the earth with viral stardust.
This dust hosts the forms of various alien viruses that infest their mammalion hosts.
The Gods beyond the void have ordained that the earths population be culled, that they be sacrificed unto them so that Gaea may once again flourish and return to her harmonic balance within the cosmos.
Each viral seed contains new genetic material, an alien consciousness that arcs itself into the hosts biology, thereby reprogramming the human race in alignment with the New Aeon.
The next evolutionary jump has been made it will lead to a Transhuman eclipse upon the planet, where man and technology will unite in an organic biosphere ecologically aligned with The New Earth.
The new paradigm has now begun, we bow our heads to the Gods beyond the stars and offer willingly this sacrifice so we may awaken from the coma of ignorance we have slept under.
Our Ancestors spoke of these times to come and the return of the STAR PEOPLE
As the Alien host attaches itself to its humanoid victim the Virus ARC's its Otherworld Ancestory into the biological soft machine of its prey
What appears to us as disaster, as a pandemic is instead the viral reaction of Panspermia's evolutionary code inplanting itself within the homosapien genome.
But first must come the purge, the Great Purification
Then and only then will the NEW EARTH be born and with it a new species of man.
Part mammalion, part Alien, part Tech.
WELCOME TO THE NEW WORLD
Wordz and Images by Y.Zsigo
The Girl who Dreamed of Faeries
She awaits their coming ....
Sad that they were only in her dreams
One last whimsical offering
And then the magikal gates appears
Caressing her with butterfly blessings
She knew they were real and not just for the dreaming
New power now pulses through her being
As the Queen of Fay steps forth from her garden
Is she awake or is she still dreaming
Images & Poetry Y.Zsigo
Model Nadia Luna Francesca Tofani.
The Endless Embrace
The army of Gods attack from all directions,
Some wielding iron some wielding fear.
Others descend with psychosis,
Nets, made from madness and tears.
Still others ascend from the darkness,
Wielding heartache and dread.
Others with mute crimson harnesses,
With shackles and boots made of lead.
'You've called us' They yell and they whimper,
To collect all the prayers that you said .
Did you think we dare not of answered,
As you lye late at night in your bed.
We are all of the dreams that you wanted,
Yet never were able to get.
We are all of the fears that have haunted,
And tortured your soul as you weeped.
So now is the time for the battle,
Now is the time we have come.
You called on our names in the chapels,
For everything under the sun.
'Take me' you cried, as you offered,
Yourself to service and bliss.
Yet how could this offering fail us,
Has everything just come to this.
Temples in ruins and tatters,
Skies marked with fire and smoke.
Seashores drowning and battered,
Cities so dark as to choke.
So how will you meet us as we come,
Full of light with the fires of revenge.
And take back those things that deceived us,
That you broke, so unwilling to mend.
And how does it feel at this hour,
When at last your destiny calls.
Like lightning that destroys the tower,
And everything crumbles and falls.
In the ash and the dust sits a master,
A meditative gaze on his face.
Then a smile breaks his lips and then laughter,
Holds himself in an endless embrace.
Image taken from the Ghetto Priest Series by
The Devil and the Drunkard
I sat on the sunny steps smoking, breathing in the warm sea air. A drunkard named Frances sat down beside me, her eyes watering, distraught and pleading. We sat in silence for a moment, then I said, ‘It hurts right? You need a drink don’t ya ?’ She nodded quietly and shamefully bowed her head. I took some loose change from my pocket and gave it to her.
‘There ya go honey, should be enough to take the pain away.’ She grabbed the money sharply from my hand and scuffled off into the summer’s fading light.
Later she returned and enlivened from the fire water asked me bluntly,
‘Are you the Devil ?’ I laughed humbly and shook my head,
‘Of course not, why do you say that? Just cause I gave you some change for ya liquor ? ‘
‘ No’, she said her eyes no longer stinging from withdrawal, ‘I saw him in a dream, he was beautiful and looked just like you’.
She took another gulp from the large brown bottle she’d purchased, taking a moment to savor the liquid medicine now diluting into her blood stream.
‘ He said he was coming for me, that I was his and it would soon be time to go with him’.
As she spoke those last words her voice slowed and her swollen eyes moved nervously about as if something was out there hunting her down.
Again I laughed to lighten the mood ‘And he looked just like me, that’s hilarious, of course I’m not the devil!’
‘ What’s going to happen to me ‘ she said her eyes now saddened but steady,
‘ I can’t stop drinking, I know it’s no good for me but I just can’t st....’
Before the last word could pass through her lips, she swayed back and forth as if delirious, her eyes starting to roll into the back of her drunken head. A strange cluck then a gargling sound came from the back of her throat and then, as if in slow motion, she slumped forward dead in front of me.
What was left of her beer poured out onto the concrete, like alcoholic blood bleeding out across the pavement.
I sat there silent, the now cooling sea breeze blowing her strong unwashed scent away from me.
Picking up my hat I fixed it firmly upon my head and looking down at her now dead and silent carcass, I whispered, ‘ You could of prayed to god young lady, but instead you summoned me and you know I don’t work for free. I’ll be seeing you soon but first there are others need attending to and debts that need keeping !’
The moon slowly peeked above the horizon flickering silver sparks across the ocean as the wind gently blew in the last of the summers breeze.
Wordz; Yanu Zsigo
Melancholy as a Spiritual Practice !
I have been melancholic my whole life, as a child i would have what i would call my ' black moods ' and hide myself away for a few days at a time with the curtains drawn in darkness , huddled up in a ball, preferably under a shelf or in a cupboard isolated away from everything.
I had no idea what was happening all i knew was i could somehow feel the pain of the world. It was like there was no filter between me and the soul of the world, Somehow in them lamentable days my small body held all sorrows, all sadness, all grief.
Of course at the time i had no way of describing these concepts as i am now, all i knew was that it would overwhelm and consume me totally, i would huddle up and shiver waiting until the darkness passed. Upon which i would resurface from my small hide away extremely emotionally fragile but hyper sensitive to colour and light and the agonizing beauty of life itself.
I was never the child that saw spirits, that had psychic premonitions, that remembered themselves in past lives etc, i was the Shadow boy, the one who felt everything. As stated before i had no facility for describing this process when i was younger but it has continued my whole life.
In my teenage years i dealt with it by taking vast quantities of drugs ending up a full blown heroin addict, the ultimate pain killer, that numbed out everything.
Eventually i died, not physically but mentally, emotionally and spiritually i had a total breakdown and was taken to the pits of hell within myself, where i was devoured completely by intense demonic forces.
Yet here i am 27 years clean from all drugs, apart from cigars of course ha and still this cycle persists in my life and why i wanted to write this short piece.
These last 27 years have not been without intense suffering also but now i have learned to use this process to my advantage and realize that actually this descent into the underworld, this dismantling of my psyche is in actual fact part of my spiritual practice, my shamanic path.Now when the darkness comes internally i honour it, i bow before it, i offer myself to it. First with a prayer, then the great descent.
Roughly every five years my entire internal map of who i am, what the world is and how i relate to it goes through a huge alteration through this death rebirth cycle. Literally everything i think that i am is confronted and then destroyed. It is the most agonizing experience and can take months and months for me to get through.
Nowadays if i went to a doctor or shrink I'm sure they would say I'm suffering from depression and offer me medication for it, this undoubtedly would place a chemical mask over the process, it would possibly make me more functional in the world but oh so much would be lost from taking it.
If anyone reading this now is already on medication i don't want you for a second to think my experience is yours and stop your meds. You have your own path and its your destiny to figure your way through it.
I only share this as my own experience and to say that spirit not only lives in the light and the upper world but also deep within the darkness of suffering, down into the blackened bed of trapped souls, that which needs to be excavated re integrated, embraced and communed with.
Many of my now familiar spiritual allies reflect this aspect of transformation, Crow, Raven, Snake, Horned God, Ellegua Alagwana, Babalu aye etc. All of these spirits are gate keepers to the mysteries of life and death and are no easy medicine to take or Ase to align with.
I can't help but laugh at those that wish to be a ' Shaman ' etc, of course drum circles are nice, journeying is helpful and fun but when its time to pay the Keepers their due most would run screaming and rightly so, the door to the devouring mother is narrow and full corpses who thought they would come looking for power but instead ended up dead or insane.
There is however a simple practice that anyone can do to transform the shadows back into colour and that is embrace the pain and surrender to the darkness. Take time to be with yourself, identify where the pain is within you, that's the thread, the tap root that will eventually unwind the entire Dark Bundle.
Now pray fervently for guidance and fully enter into it, surrender to your suffering. I know it feels like your enemy, that instead it should be banished and broken but in truth it is your soul screaming for attention, crying from the darkness to be recognized, to be seen, to be embraced and most of all to be loved.
My experience has always been that in the fires of hell and the depths of the underworld, at the core of darkness lyes something more beautiful than can ever be imagined, more tender and sweet than any blossoming flower. It is the Great Secret to all the Mysteries, it is the seat of the soul and the pain of its birthing pangs back into the world.
Melancholy is a spiritual practice, only those that dive deep ascend to the heaven.
Bless you all on this Samhain, may the Gates enamour you to action !
Images; Jacek Solkiewicz
Imagine God / Goddess as the Other, the Objective, as the opposite sex and you, as yourself the subjective.
That the search for Union with the Divine is no different than your search for communion with your Lover, your Beloved.
Now consider your awareness as YOU and everything your experiencing right now, no matter what it is through your awareness, what appears as external as the Divine Lover / The God / Goddess.
The witness and the witnessed... Got it ?
Now read this short poem whilst listening to the music here on youtube by Dhaffer Youseff, Read it over like a poetic prayer until ..... !
As i awake so you await me
Today friend or enemy
We love so we hate
You make me
We are together
In violent rapture
Torn from each other
Stitched back together
There’s no escape
From love’s torture
Only the persistent flower
The one that never withers
But blossoms in winter
Petals gentle that flicker
Once plucked are poison
With possessions passions
And longing for
But i am here with you
Holding your heart
The hermits lantern
Shining in the dark
Allow me to embrace you
To steal from you
All that would tempt you
To believe you are alone
You are not
For i am with you
You are not
For i am with you
You are not
For i am with you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
By my hands alone
Have i raised you
Yet you forsake me
Poured from your cavernous lips
Clenched on crippled lies
Whore of the night
Your now limp carcass
Perfumed in sugary scents
Devoured by the long tongued snake
Poisoned by its venom
Bound alone forgotten
I who am the sunsets son
Fraught with bruised pestilence
I shall now lay with you
Only to find you unworthy
Of my bright kingdom
Beyond life’s sordid sufferings
My trembling hand now open
Forsakes you to the omens
To the land of hobbling men
No longer knowing
No longer seeing
Just squirming, squeaking, jerking and yelping
I fear not your curses
I am the diseased breath that speaks them
The whisperer that deafens ears
As the vultures circle i return to my kingdom
Lord of the earth
Crowned purple and golden
'A prayer to some, a curse to the one that speaks them !’
Poem by Y. Zsigo
Image by Pep Bonet