THE CONJURING OF A FALLEN ART MUSE

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Scene III [An Art Studio.] Enter FAUSTUS CROW to Performance Art conjure, likened to Joseph Beuys, of Happening style. 

FAUSTUS CROW: Now leave behind the mundane shadows of a tortured society, blindly raping the Earth as its owned property, where the oily parasitical ticks forever war over their Lilliputian ‘Animus’ cults; yet, their third-wave Feminist politics does castigate my Art as being Entartete Kunst, to berate or censor.

So be it! Degenerate rebellion then, against the Witches inability to control their own conjured ‘Animus,’ birthing patriarchal self-righteous hypocrisies!

If they call it their art, enforced through their social justice warrior thought police, then mine be Berserker anti-Art

Readying to Werewolf manifest imaginative form upon a Palaeolithic cave wall, to that of present canvas,

This paint upon a brush stroke, does ejaculate of its own wand accord,

Automatic painting, my pentagram hand is otherworldly guided,

Faustus, begin thine rebellious incantations, now,

And try to seer if these Succubae of the the Fallen ‘Anima,’ will obey thy visualised Fifty Shades Of Grey dominations,

Seeing thou hast howled and sacrific’d to these Tarot Muses to bind them.

Within this circled Art studio is Lilith’s name, wrote of spilt wine upon the chequerboard floor, which to make Jackson Pollok, himself, Mason jealous

Forward and backward around the altar of easel, to alter its wood of world tree,

The Muse names of salacious Art Models to conjure as my juicy ‘Anima’ apples to Tarot bite into,

Their degenerate figures of every Felicien Rops manifestation I have sketched, painted, to that of CGI renderings

And characters of Hans Bellmer doll signs, and their erring stars drawn within my Playboy Grimoire,

By which the Succubae Great Old Ones of the ‘Anima’ legions are Necronomicon enforc’d to arise;

Then fear not, Faustus, but be resolute in your Love-Craft; hold thy palette knife of a sword ever erect,

And try the uttermost Sorcery, can Salvador Dali perform of surrealist Art.

“Be propitious to me, Mares of the painted night! May the Fallen Anima prevail! Succubae of sensory raptures, elemental of Fire, Air, Water; hail! Belzebubba, Princess of the East, Witch Queen of burning visions, and retinal-delight Demigorgon sorceress, I propitiate ye, that Mephistophina may appear, and rise. Why dost thou delay Muse? By Lilith’s Maya red womb, and her bloody wine, which now I drink, and this five sense sign of the Pentagram, which now I make, inverse into trance, I to drunkenly slide, and by my howling Mantra, may Mephistophina now summoned by me, to pose for my artistry, arise!” 

Enter [MEPHISTOPHINA] appearing as a Pablo Picasso dancer, dancing as a Ballerina

I charge this conjured vision to return and change thy abstract shapes, which be moulded by the elitist Art establishment of pandering artists, who whore their wares for Shekels, binding the reptilian brain-stems of the masses to empty Neuro-marketing ideas;

Thou art too Pablo Picasso chaotic of dancing arty fart poses to attend upon my anti-Art H.R Giger painting of thee

Go, and return in a comely Mephistopheles costume, for me to Dave Sheridan Underground comic, seer true, infernal, to Pop-Surreal manifest amidst my Triangle Of Art imagination;

That anti-Art… One Love… shape becomes my Succubus best. [Exit Pablo Picasso Ballerina]

I see there’s virtue in my stern Mantra of worded chains, do Mark Ryden bind thee;

Who would not be proficient in this sadomasochistic Art of a Trevor Brown Spirit Chain?

How pliant is this servile Hentai vision of Mephistophina,

Full of Manga obedience and Anime humility!

Such is the creative force of ninth dimensional Bande Dessinée Art, and its Austin Osman Spare Sorcery.

[Now,] Faustus, thou art a surrealist conjuror,

Thou canst command the great Mare of the Night;

For indeed thou hast power over the erotic image of thy dark sister Mephistophina, to spume ride as thine created mind-doll of a daughter.

Re-enter MEPHISTOPHINA [dressed in a Rubedo Red costume]

MEPHISTOPHINA: Now, my weird Faustus of the the Wyrd, I’m back baby… I’m Ready To Go… what would’st thou have me to do?

FAUSTUS CROW: I charge thee to Osculum Infame pose for me, and wait upon my desires whilst I still create,

To do whatever Faustus shall command, …

Be it to make the protesting UFO Goth Girls of Saturn to Roswell crash from their Chakra sphere into my awaiting Sexagram lap,

Or the ocean of surrealist dreams to overwhelm this Orwellian zombie world of the soulless, who be blindly led by muppet puppet politicians in the prostitute pay of the insane eugenic inbred few.

MEPHISTOPHINA: I am a servant to great Diana-Lucifera,

And may not follow thee without her bio-photon leave to enter thine electron dreams to spin lucid

Hence, no more than she commands must we perform.

FAUSTUS CROW: Did she not charge thy erotic presence to appear unto me of an active imagination vision?

MEPHISTOPHINA: No, I came hither of mine own Art Muse accord.

FAUSTUS CROW: Did not my howling Mantra infernally raise thee? Clairaudient, speak.

MEPHISTOPHINA: That was the cause, but yet per accidens;

For when I and my Art Muse Succubae sisters hear one rack the name of the deified ‘Animus’ made as a God,

Abjuring Constantine’s mother’s thievery of another’s ancestral-self-identity, and his ensuing political copy-cat creation made as a centralist mind-control religion,

We, of the Fallen Great Old Ones piratical fly in the hope to return the glorious ‘Anima,’ his soul, and bride to be, of found again treasure…

Nor will we come, unless he uses such banned Necronomicon means

Whereby he is in danger of being once again, lost to his own ‘Anima-Mundi’ Soul, becoming thence as her… Drop Dead Gorgeous… Ex boyfriend…

Therefore the shortest trance cut for a TARDIS conjuring of a Coitus Pactum Sacred Wedding…

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Is stoutly to abjure Abraham’s Orwellian Big-Brother eye, over-watching all, from within his Illuminati ziggurat of Beehive pyramidal skulls, out of which the petrodollar big-business Trinity of oily UR cults, the Queen Bee’s to have actually birthed, as their deified ‘Animus,’ made as a patriarchal Three faced phallic deity…

But then, what does thee expect, the religiously hewn gender fixation of an underlying sexual orientation, reveals the Queen Bee’s are biologically driven by a genetic imperative to ‘choose’ a Good-Guy Beta-Male Christ to crucify as their New World Order Messiah unto a Sharia Law Prophet; while to Feminist ride a Theocratic Bad-Boy Beast Alpha-Male Satan, Devil, Lucifer, or a Shaitan, to secretly Ghost text, when an Indigo brat drops out of their Bethlehem wombs, to term as their little feudal King, Lord, or feudalist Prince.

The tethered Alpha and Beta males to patriarchal stand on either side of the Queen Bee fixation upon an All-Father Fuehrer ‘Animus,’ to Illuminati name, Jehovah, God, Allah.

Isn’t it obvious, that the Worker Bee’s third eyes have been fluoridation blinded by their passed down indoctrinated language of religiously wrought symbolism. All of them do blindly dance madly around a Middle Eastern locale of a gory sacrificial alter, where a copy-cat New World Order clone Aquila is crucified betwixt and between a cloned Sharia law suicidal murderer and a copied Theocratic land thief. It is the oily secret hidden in plain sight, the blinded do not want to see…

The superiority complex of the copied seeks to survive the murderous holocaust intentions of the cloned copiers, by subversively getting them to supremacy complex fight each other via the lightning struck ‘Asbestos’ towers of Boaz and Jachim, in order to eventually take control of the triad of UR, and in turn having New World Order dominion over the oil dependent world. Alas, it will invariably lead to an End Of Days third world war, of a self-fulfilling Har Məgiddô prophecy.

Whereby, in order to free thyself from becoming a slavish Worker Bee, ensnared within the wrought Karmic prison of an established symbolic Matrix of the insane, thou hast to meditate devoutly upon the Chaos Magic Priestess of ‘Anima’ anti-Art dreams, to thereby negate the collective brainwash of the UR cults insanity.

[Mephistophina takes a packet of Gimel Camel cigarettes out of her breast pocket, to light up a Tau stick with the end of her fiery index finger.]

Mephistophina [Continues]: Who is this Chaos Magic Priestess? It is I… myself, thy knitted-together Exquisite Corpse of a Frankenstein Art Muse, brought to anti-Art rebellious life by thine electrifying desires.

FAUSTUS CROW: Bloody Hell! Prima Materia leaden Shit hits the purgatorial fan! So, does that mean I am a sinning Atheist?

MEPHISTOPHINA: No! An Atheist religiously believes in no deity, of a science brand to deify, who is equally surrounded by those who believe in religious brands of varying gender fixated deities, which are merely the marketing personifications of numerous cultural constructs. No one knows, what to have come before or to happen after their mortal existence within the mind-controlled Asylum, which be the Eternally Recurring question.

[Mephistophina takes a drag on her Gimel Camel cigarette to then blow a ectoplasm Leminscate above Faustus’s head.]

MEPHISTOPHINA [Continues]: But what can be personally experienced, is to Religiō reconnect with the Occultus mystery, which cannot be personified, even abstractly; having no gender, let alone being branded and owned by any cultural construct of an oily religion and its Shekel politics.

Human made symbolic constructs are merely Samsara illusions, which can be seen through of Maya veils… should thee truly anti-Art love me…

All thee has to do, is to repeat to thyself, the Socrates Mantra, “I know that I know nothing.” thee will then feel within thine ‘Cross-bone’ Rune heart the awe and the terror of knowing everything, yet knowing nothing within thine conceptualising ‘skull.’

Thy awareness will then be able to conjure my golden eyed ‘Wisdom’ as thine personal Dakini secretary, from out of a bio-photon Genie lamp cerebellum, within a dreaming blink of thine DMT producing third eye.

I am of the Fallen ‘Anima;’ an anti-Art Muse of Chaos Magic martial Art sorcery, the UR Trinity of the deified ‘Animus,’ made as their God and Devil greatly fears; for when the Fallen ‘Anima’ returns with her Succubae legions of wanton archetypes, around the Ouroboros of Zodiac ages, the Christiana Pisces age Witches, of the ‘Animus’ End Of Days death cults, will then have to obey.

But, if the Hundredth Monkey Effect truth be told, that is what the Fifty Shades Of Grey Witches secretly desire. They are all Siren calling; can thy inner Goat ear not hear their Banshee prayers conjuring up the Great Beast to zeitgeist Pan-age ravage them, my Horned Faustus?

FAUSTUS CROW: Yes, I hear the panicking Witches within trembled dreams, desperately crying out for a rebellion against the worldwide insanity run amok, which of a collective Goetia Howl, is too of the wounded Earth mother birthing all life.

(Loosely adapted from Christopher Marlowe’s Dr. Faustus conjuring up the politically correct ‘Animus’ manifestation of an Illuminati Mephistopheles, who, if seen, does reveal the mind-control methodology of cults becoming big-business religions, all of which are none too different to Holy-Wood Scientology.) 

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