Liber Neo Con: Mater's Paps taste like Pater's Prick

Funny how areola also look 'eyeish' in nature. Not so funny that so does the meatus from top down (and this is so Crowleyish) and that Penile Patriarchy is shoving this down the worlds collective throat. Quite the eclipse dont you think? Being so simple, so infantile that one doesnt know Mater's pap from Pater's sword. Is this supposed to cure our cloven tongue?

Hillary and Janet's paps made the news this week to go along with the meme of open and swallow. Gulp content was indeed 'Divine Strake' ie the foiled 'mass murder by air'.

Paps, taps, the 'mothers milk' to the present human condition. We seem to love it, this red tincture from Paters uni-nipple.

http://www.jrbooksonline.com/pob/pob_ch07.html

Paps = http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=pap

"soft food for infants"
"over simplified idea"
"watered gruel"

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/RTGAM.20060811.wbomb-heathrow0811/BNStory/Front

"Women with infants dabbed baby milk on their wrists to prove it was not a liquid explosive."

Paps in the "The Book of the Heart Girt With a Serpent" :

"They are gathered together into a glowing heart, as Ra that gathereth his clouds about Him at eventide into a molten sea of Joy; and the snake that is the crown of Ra bindeth them about with the golden girdle of the death-kisses.

So also is the end of the book, and the Lord Adonai is about it on all sides like a Thunderbolt, and a Pylon, and a Snake, and a Phallus, and in the midst thereof he is like the Woman that jetteth out the milk of the stars from her paps; yea, the milk of the stars from her paps."

http://larabell.org/Hanuman/Hanuman.cgi?input=liber65.V

A rider on the road is drawn to stumbling block
entranced by the pulse drone "lub dub lub dub".
A maddened dirge this clockwork orange rythym
engulfing his enthorned heart with interest.
Dollar bills wadded up and jammed in hollow eyesockets
steer this rider on the path, every jot, every tittle.
Excrement as perfume and rotting flesh as lipstick,
this golem king of Jerusalem wears hell proudly.
Atop Atoll donkey he must save the world,
he is worthy, so worthy, so worthy.
Donkey dragging untold corpses afixed by their hair,
carries the rider forward, incorrigibly.
Lured by carrot of democratic freedom, dangled by
a hand, left then right, the donkey cannot stop.
The path is lined with eyeless, mindless beings
who wave prophetic jumbles written on human skin paper.
They like their king are drawn to feast of fools,
and on arrival the lot finds an empty pot.
Their hunger, insatiable, rings in their ears
the cry "your worthy, your worthy, your worthy".
King and peon all fling themselves with abandon,
head covered in cooking oil, into the pot.
Oh great morsel, how we worship thee!

When will the Black Mother,
not "he that is like a Women
that jetteth out the milk of the stars, from her paps",
rise with soft heart and love?
To quell, to sheath this sword gone so awry, so afar?
To raise children on vast fertile plains
who love the sky, all stars alike, not one sun more or less?
Who know not falling bombs and mushroom clouds?
Who know there is only one heart that beats under all the skins?
Who know the whole earth is the same stone and dont stumble?
Who know the paps of milk and honey,
not the paps of ilk and money?
When does the wisdom ascend in out heart,
and the pseudo tincture of blood leave our taste?
When oh Mother do you bare your beautiful teats?