Alison Parker is Ashley Madison
FEMBOT? FABRICATION? FALSE FLAG? FRAUD OR FAKE? NO!
THE DIVINE FEMININE OF NWO TRANSFORMATION (Funded by the new world Olympians and performed by crisis actors)
Joo-joo-bees in the News
Noel Biderman – Andy Parker
First I want to express how happy I am to see the sisters 🙂 , Jersey Girl and Dawnatilla returning to coto at such a timely moment in our time. I need not stress the time as midnight for I have been a rabid prophet of the coming change. It is not by accident or coincidence that Jersey Girl posted this;
Jersey said we need Ghostbusters, 🙂 I agree but we need codebusters also.
Please note that we do not endorse or agree with the announcement of the Rapture in September shown at the end of this video. It certainly could happen then, yes, but we make no claims to know the date.
Shhhh! Don’t leak the ending.
JADE HELM 15: Mastering the Human Domain: Operation Bluebeam and Genesys transformation of the universe to a new order, a new taxonomy a new autonomy, a new taxing system.
Illegal Immigration: Human Trafficking: Asset Management: Pornography: planned parenthood: Genocide: Sustainability: Pornography: carbon sequestration: Depopulation: genocide: Pornography: male emasculating: feminine sterilization. LGBT
This is not hilarious though it is a revelation. Alison Parker like Robbie Parker (Sandy Hook) are the crisis actors of the I$I$ Jade Helm. Forget the code words and look at the motion of these sequences. I implore everyone to see this graphic as the map to our final destination on this plane and 3D realm.
Know the codewords: Feminism, Black Lives Matter, I$I$, Jade Helm 15, War on Women, Agenda 21, Climate Change, Carbon Economy, Sustainability, Austerity, Quantitative Easing, Obamacare, Transformation, Political Correctness,
Time to refresh yourself on the Propaganda techniques used by the totally focused brainwashing that is all Main Stream Media. You have got to pull out of any and all regardless of things that may ring true as it is designed to place you in one of many boxes where you will find no answers.
Main Stream Media, Propaganda and You
January 12, 2009
Another very sighted bloggers mirror
Please follow any headline, event, staging, psyop or googleplex frequency and place it within one of the six keys to the NWO transformation. If needed you should refresh yourself on the definitions of each of them. What comes tomorrow or sometime in the very near future will be the new universal treaty. From small arms to large vaccines, one is coming and the other is going. You can figure it out from there. This is the feminine, a war on women which is a war on all men and conception. Mnemosyne to Moneta , Kali to ISIS, the powers and assaults from the zionists transformers who see themselves as demi-gods and shapers of some psychopathic utopian glory by way of sadistic assaults on our body, mind and soul.
The Fall of Hyperion – A Dream – John Keats
Then the tall shade, in drooping linens veil’d,
Spoke out, so much more earnest, that her breath
Stirr’d the thin folds of gauze that drooping hung
About a golden censer from her hand
Pendent; and by her voice I knew she shed
Long treasured tears. ‘This temple, sad and lone,
‘Is all spar’d from the thunder of a war
‘Foughten long since by giant hierarchy
‘Against rebellion: this old image here,
‘Whose carved features wrinkled as he fell,
‘Is Saturn’s; I Moneta, left supreme
‘Sole priestess of this desolation.’
I had no words to answer, for my tongue,
Useless, could find about its roofed home
No syllable of a fit majesty
To make rejoinder to Moneta’s mourn.
There was a silence, while the altar’s blaze
Was fainting for sweet food: I look’d thereon,
And on the paved floor, where nigh were piled
Faggots of cinnamon, and many heaps
Of other crisped spice wood then again
I look’d upon the altar, and its horns
Whiten’d with ashes, and its lang’rous flame,
And then upon the offerings again;
And so by turns till sad Moneta cried,
‘The sacrifice is done, but not the less
‘Will I be kind to thee for thy good will.
‘My power, which to me is still a curse,
‘Shall be to thee a wonder; for the scenes
‘Still swooning vivid through my globed brain
‘With an electral changing misery
‘Thou shalt with those dull mortal eyes behold,
‘Free from all pain, if wonder pain thee not.’
As near as an immortal’s sphered words
Could to a mother’s soften, were these last:
And yet I had a terror of her robes,
And chiefly of the veils, that from her brow
Hung pale, and curtain’d her in mysteries
That made my heart too small to hold its blood.
This saw that Goddess, and with sacred hand
Parted the veils. Then saw I a wan face,
Not pin’d by human sorrows, but bright blanch’d
By an immortal sickness which kills not;
It works a constant change, which happy death
Can put no end to; deathwards progressing
To no death was that visage; it had pass’d
The lily and the snow; and beyond these
I must not think now, though I saw that face
But for her eyes I should have fled away.
They held me back, with a benignant light
Soft mitigated by divinest lids
Half closed, and visionless entire they seem’d
Of all external things; they saw me not,
But in blank splendour beam’d like the mild moon,
Who comforts those she sees not, who knows not
What eyes are upward cast. As I had found
A grain of gold upon a mountain side,
And twing’d with avarice strain’d out my eyes
To search its sullen entrails rich with ore,
So at the view of sad Moneta’s brow
I ach’d to see what things the hollow brain
Behind enwombed: what high tragedy
In the dark secret chambers of her skull
Was acting, that could give so dread a stress
To her cold lips, and fill with such a light
Her planetary eyes, and touch her voice
With such a sorrow ‘Shade of Memory!’
Cried I, with act adorant at her feet,
‘By all the gloom hung round thy fallen house,
‘By this last temple, by the golden age,
‘By great Apollo, thy dear Foster Child,
‘And by thyself, forlorn divinity,
‘The pale Omega of a withered race,
‘Let me behold, according as thou saidst,
‘What in thy brain so ferments to and fro!’
No sooner had this conjuration pass’d
My devout lips, than side by side we stood
(Like a stunt bramble by a solemn pine)
Deep in the shady sadness of a vale,
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Far from the fiery noon and eve’s one star.
Onward I look’d beneath the gloomy boughs,
And saw, what first I thought an image huge,
Like to the image pedestal’d so high
In Saturn’s temple. Then Moneta’s voice
Came brief upon mine ear ‘So Saturn sat
When he had lost his realms ‘ whereon there grew
A power within me of enormous ken
To see as a god sees, and take the depth
Of things as nimbly as the outward eye
Can size and shape pervade. The lofty theme
At those few words hung vast before my mind,
With half unravel’d web. I set myself
Upon an eagle’s watch, that I might see,
And seeing ne’er forget. No stir of life
Was in this shrouded vale, not so much air
As in the zoning of a summer’s day
Robs not one light seed from the feather’d grass,
But where the dead leaf fell there did it rest.
A stream went voiceless by, still deaden’d more
By reason of the fallen divinity
Spreading more shade; the Naiad ‘mid her reeds
Press’d her cold finger closer to her lips.
Along the margin sand large footmarks went
No farther than to where old Saturn’s feet
Had rested, and there slept, how long a sleep!
Degraded, cold, upon the sodden ground
His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead,
Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were clos’d,
While his bow’d head seem’d listening to the Earth,
His ancient mother, for some comfort yet.
The poem was abandoned before Keats’s death
tags: Vester Flanigan, Bryce Williams, Dylan Roof, Confederate Flag, LGBT Flag, War on Women, ISIS, Feminism, Race Wars, Jade Helm, Project Bluebeam, Master of the Human Domain, Psychological Operations, Social Engineering