Chris Sellars
There is an insane asylum where the gardens are pleasant and the facilities more or less adequate but both inmates and staff are for the most part barking mad. We call this institution the world.
It was called a night club but it had nothing in common with any club that I have subscribed to. It was a club with victims not members and most of those appeared to be victims of a type of blunt force trauma that might be expected in someone repeatedly clubbed.
The room was jam-packed with grotesquely gyrating automatons that by all appearances had once been people. A deafening all-pervasive miasma of soulless repetitive electronica filled the air and made rational thought a near impossibility. It looked like hell to me and I could almost see the demons laughing as they choreographed the movements of these bored, aimless souls. I expect they were gloating at the prospect of later torment.
It was not, as they say, my cup of tea, and I prefer coffee anyhow. But to give the devil his due I believe the place ran at a profit and the patrons actually forked out cold hard cash to be a part of such abominable nastiness.
As a result of various brainwashing techniques and extensive drug treatment, most people have become hypnotised Zombies devoid of reason. Dumbed down and fed up they do what they are told, go where they are led and eat what they are fed.
Programmed like poorly performing robots many mortals are simply going through the motions. These are the gross national product of a materialist consumer culture. Without love nor the promise of forgiveness, their souls forfeited long ago, they walk and talk with the hollow emptiness of dry wells, thinking themselves fortunate for the absence of empathy.
The way to hell is not usually as most imagine it, through a leap off the precipice and a sudden terrifying plummet into the pit. It is more often a long slow imperceptibly downward sloping path where the travel is easy, the sun shines and it is easy to convince ourselves that everything is going along just fine.
Having observed such things during the course of my brief sojourn on this planet I couldn’t see what the uproar was about when it was put into the public domain that ‘Hell awaits’ those who exhibit the overt symptoms of terminal spiritual disease. Surely even the most casual observer can see that not only does Hell await, there are plenty who are there already, and by their own choice? Others meanwhile queue up at Hell’s gate, more than willing to pay a hefty entry fee where once people were tempted, fooled, bribed, coerced, and blackmailed into selling their immortal souls.
These days plenty are paying Satan to take it away like it was some sort of infected appendix. I am constantly amazed that so many are prepared to pay for the privilege of digging their own grave.
Of course, the Devil runs most of the marketing and advertising agencies and, although dark and desperate on the inside, on the outside hell is all rainbow colours and bright flashing lights. We should expect nothing less from a shining star that fell like lightning from heaven.
Western society has been sold the Devil’s own Crowleyesque dogma of ‘Do what though wilt shall be the whole of the law’. The narcissistic elevation of the false god of self along with rebranding the mortal sin of pride as a virtue is the core of the predominant 21st century religion. Life is short, the end is nigh. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Sadly, for so many this is true.
Adopting such a creed only ever results in decadence and destruction. As the masses are entertained to the point of boredom they are being lulled into a trance. As compliant Zombies led to the precipice of the abyss without protest and only awaiting a final push. Like it or not there are rules. One is that you reap as you sow and harvest time is looming. It may be nearer than you think.
Freedom is a challenge but slavery is sad beyond measure. There are so many willing slaves running hard on the hamster wheel of contemporary life to pay their taskmasters’ tax. In return, they get generous helpings of neurosis, psychosis and an evening dish of cold comfort reheated in the microwave.
Examples of these walking dead have gradually ceded control of their lives to evil men with unholy motives. They are in the entertainment industry and the news media. They wield political power and anonymously people the public service agencies that bedevil the lives of so many. They have infiltrated churches and NGOs leading many astray. Surely a Zombie apocalypse cannot be far away?
Thankfully I have checked out of this madhouse and refuse to take the meds. I do still frequently visit to play squash and occasionally chat with the staff and inmates. I too was for a long time a lost sheep, a prodigal son. Coming home again I have decided it is better to be a servant in my Father’s House than a lost soul in this sad and desperate place. I recommend it. I am glad this world is not my home.
© Worzel 2019
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