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Occult Research
Monday, 23 July 2007
Channeled Material From Lam
Mood:  d'oh
Topic: Occult Misc.



1:  I the master Therion now invoke the marriage car of destiny; far away lay an ancient curse blessed by the one.  Damaged by years of indolence Passed to mine hand in times of awakening and flair.  Priests cut up the ancient thirst bound by men of times.



2:  Seriously the mountain found the corner to death and flu.



3:  Essence of mechanics blasted through the air, courage

doubts this.



4:  In west Virginia die again slept by masks of cockatoos.  Slain of memories, devoid of thought, thrice blessed was the angel of conditions, forsaken in time a man tried to enter its sleep.  Into dreams of men that lie in waste, cursed by the divine soul, for swine, entereth the beast we lay.



5:  Courage eatheth away the thirst, burdened by sex.



6:  Thirst and society, braves the servants worst,



7:  Cave men can’t see the thirst, nay do you.


8:  In bellows sworn by men, slept in anger and ran before thee.  Aches and gallants die in the mists of anger and worth.  Shelter nay thee best, places stormed by finesse.  By anger repelled by ropes of thorn, eat eat none shall mourn.



9:  By times of manifestations, thirst and fortification, dieth the hearse, nay, nay, blow by blow weaken the curse.



10:  Shame indignantly enters in swarms, by men of thirst and riots of adoration, slept by merchants ends and meek, for ever night shall we seek.


11:   Laughter lighteth and doth Virgo sing.  Canaanites slip their mockery in night shelters which they seek.  Care not for the men that die in sleep, their horrors lye in wait of reason and mild conviction.



12:  Rise Rise the burdens no longer slept, grazing cows lift the moors, animals of anger and sleeping rage dieth the monsters, damned reeds.  Creeds Creeds elephants Seeds.  Busted by famine, lurking for greens.



13.  Dying of rage we seek our parade.  Neith the Blusterous summons, crime exceeds the blessed reeds, towns busted by anchored toe, left by rabies, the raccoons serenade.



14:  Heaven and earth barked in weeds, what?  None shall guess these charades. Honor thy bruised widow, for sane life shall bluster and no longer wreck my leads.



15:  Sorrow begot sisters, burnt by reeds, tendencies of anger

lifted these.



16:  Ride the meager, and oust the deranged. Sorrow deepens this awful charade.  Cursed and slain the meager peoples rage. Answer to no one, since no one can read.



17:  Fingers slapped into mines that blow.  I read with curses, but laugh with none.  Sleep insidiously gathers strength and rage.  Curtains of bellows of Talmudic insanity.  Read Read none sorrow but these.



18:  In times of grace

The answers lie in strange places burnt and swallowed with deathly blows to cannon righteous summons. If none shall simmer and grow, with remorse, they shall anger all our discourse.



19:  Below, Below the ripped upon show, we follow the leads gallows of reeds. Left by sorrow, now its demise.  Cannot seek what cannot see, that’s your glow the anger less free.



20:  Sorrow batters food, food offends you.  Shallow Shallow eagerly spawn.  What’s rather fat then a swan.  Damage cannot cease until the married angler does.



21:  Sudden futures embarked on sleep, destined for the meek.  Gather round this anchored floor, and aghast forever more.  Hearest the shadows that keep thy heart shallow.  Willed by men of sorrows kin.  Laugh you may you shall die today.  Keep your lovers within the salt, for death that comes and swallows thy heart, for night leaps and sleeps in night, cursed yet again by flowers of kin.



22:  Listen to the heartbeat of a sin, they don’t exist but within.



23:  Heareth the night glow in wonders again.  Help Help you shall not find, you sit in.  Lift the barriers of swallows kin lift nights’ heart and grow within.  You who are smart, listen in, you shall find the holy kin, beget in parentage, DNA and kin. Lift our fellows in again, for sleep doth revive all of them.



24:  Society reaps none but death follow follow them in.



25:  Forget thy hearts beating friends, lift lift them away, forget your kin, slept in graves, no forever within.



26:  In times of truth white elephants dine in flocks of gore.  Listless and sun dried, listless and meek, forever weak.  Pride drives its baneful scope of life, no hurdles yet circles we seek.

 27:  Ghastly tenants and fiercesome woe, laugh at the ones with ancient heavens, none then shall us endure.  Fearsome penalties drive the woe.  Succulent beasts ready for sow.  Curtains of laments dineth here and slow.  Deer gallop in western snow.

28:  Hail the triumph the beasts we lay, take us for a slay.  Damnest and drunk sleep shall lie.  Goats and mirrors the awesome gaiety cannot smirk and live so long, but death shall come, like geese in their heavenly slums.



29:  Birds like summer in times of woe, shelter their ears they fear, hearing us shall shatter them.  Oh woe the master’s tongue shall shatter your song, rightly stumped by natures dump.  Cure some entity with love and gallows, death shall come; hiding in madders and slums.



30:  Dynasty we follow, the fearsome throne, bitten by rage of an adders tongue.  Glass and shadows mix and run.  Betwixt the ancient tongue, lift thy heart burden some.



31:  Grief, Grief thy awful bum, nearest together we shall succumb.  Destroy Eden, destroy, and some evil withered bum.



32:  Curtains gash the heavenly lights, beckoned by ancient ones.  Help the merchants gather their kin.  Ride their boxers ride their bum.  Reach for their aching slum.  Betwixt the ancient rum.  Born from ignorance, left by some.  Gather the riders and tell them to run, lift thy veil and scatter some.



33:  Breath the ancient towers and read their ancient tongue, forego the pretty ones of mirth, reach into destiny for that’s our destiny.  Rogues come forth, like mirth’s galore, hated by some.  Insane rambling, the merchants gather, by ones of faith their hearts numb, reach for scissors and slice the tongues.  Ambivalence and torture, rather come, last but surely my salt will come.



34:  Heat and silence gather round.  Burning pleasure tantalize some, reap the disaster, corner the dumb.  Makeshift ports bother the doors of entrance to the lore, baneful prisons gated some.



35:  Alas the treasures bountiful and moist, heathens are no longer scum.  Wither the ancient deaths of yore, forget the ancient’s sores.  Help may liberate the destiny’s gate, forever in shape.  I preview the source of all destiny, let him in, and gather through the door, burdened none, shall gather, weeping for pleasurable sleep.  Ones of late shall come to the gate, lifting thy eyes into doors of fate.

36:  Humble Satans, 666 straightens the door.  Ambivalence, and pleasure weaken the door, Satan gathers the whore, no whore but Satans door, lift the gate, for more.  Sex and Satan are one as four, 666 leaps through the door, the gate the gate forever more.  The beasts of anglers damaged ores lift the door.  Pleasure meets want, want strikes for more.



37:  Illusion stripped and ancients score, dialects are spoken once more.  Lift the heavenly gate, and drive some more.  Ancient relics die at the door, no more no more, they shall implore.



38:  Rabid Starks bite the rocks, no more.  Belittled states seven more, crying for life they cannot have anymore.  Yet the meek look out the door, for invisible sight they shall abhor.  Lovely slate says no more.  Reckons the Satan’s future wrath, east then west the story goes, none shall be ravaged, but yet the doors yes, ye, hatred bellows the sorry floor, the man shakes revengefully, and aches to battle more.  Hurt by none, but all by him, slept the ancient relics door.  Future antics rape the floor, burst by lustful hate and smite, this door can hold much more.



39:  And flew into bystanders lifting their gates, the height so far.  Livid temperatures rise, beckoning sun rise.  Lift thy head burneth with skewers, oh aches thy wretched fate, burneth no more.   Seasons burden all who ache to spite, left by no one but a fight, yet the morn gather round, certain death squares the fond.



40:  Obliged by bickering, fires do not simmer down and quit.  Beasts loveth the ancient doors, wicked spiteful bitten by fate, shelter the eyes from wretched spaces, scatter the gore to outer places.  Fix the damage and ache and smite, nothing gathers but a damned fight.  Bitten yet again, nothing shall sin, for sin is nothing, and nothing is sin, ye who fight are sinners that bite.



41:  Lift the fields of gray and leave this display, yet when one honors the game we shall masquerade, do not fight or solemnly spite, honors bed us, and lust succumbs, bet the avalanche would fight.  Six shall mourn the loss, of a fighter’s burden, left by courage, bitten by their own.  Infected skiers lie in wait, yet doth burden none this late.



42:  Honest sorors are destined to fight, the ancient wrath upon this night.  Forget the dangers, we shall skillfully be polite.  Ancient races swung its might; let us not forget that might.



43:  Ache sputters by Jewish right, left by sinners, spun by sight. 

44:  Do not curse the enemies nurse, she shall die first.



45:  Slept in acres of damaged life, forgone the pleasures of normal life.  Drinking liters of muddy soot, the birds forgot to seek mirth; death shall come and burden all, left in its wake the birth of swallows search.

46:  In ancient
Italy the meager ones doth reap the first twelfth angler smut and all.  Delivered the rights the ancient thunder, raped by lust and featherless kin.  Stank the burdens its wasted lust.  Anger ripens and burdens their lust, wake, wake, thy ancient curse, burned alive by spited bliss, awaken this lust, forsaken we must, take the mirror and burn it into smears of wonton dust, brazen floors daze all the doors, written in letters that must be first.



47:  Gather the dozen ancient vibrations littered upon the soil, we thrust into storms, awaken the ancient curse this must.  Burn the bridges burn the scum.  Revealing letters now meant to simmer, eleven comes forth, eight litters the first, next to nine and eleven signs.



48:  Burdened we must, find the gate, the ancient curse, maim those who trust not in us, destroy all we must.  Enter the cages of lusts domain, ravage the meek, and run with the eleven, wait for some, but letters kin shall find all who sin.  Bankrupt they must eleven is sin.  Wait for two and eleven kin, thus we bellow in raids of kin, we must.  In times of yore the bankrupt sinned, not by kin, who outraged this sorrowful kin, bankrupt and sin the same and one, forget them all they are sin.  Hated letters are coming within; seek shelter for all our kin.


Serpenta Azothi


Posted by lam777 at 2:55 PM EDT
Updated: Monday, 23 July 2007 3:39 PM EDT
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