A rallying cry for young telepAths who have had their magical hair chopped off by our masonic electronic monolith.
I have woken from a dream where a robot god, a transformer, changes into a white bus and back and is feared by the other gods. It corrals all the people of Earth (like a twisted Noah) into a single Singapore. One at a time the buses roll into the final National Stadium: The False Jerusalem.
The Being Jesus is waiting, for He Is Bored. Mellow Quetzalcoatl, soft Aztec-absorbing earth Dao. He is waiting for you to turn past the cliché. He finds all of this sorrowful.
I have begun to worry about teleportation.