The Esther Judas Story
(A short story, of the New World Order, and its entourage)
“You cannot serve two masters,” said Esther Judas, to her husband, “hell is full of those who have dried!”
She had made her peace with God, pure in heart, unknowing until he became a powerful man, but as I say, she did not know it and though he continually jeered at God, she was right. For until she moved away from him for good—mentally that is, she had eliminated from her soul, this disciple of Lucifer, then did she become radiant in God’s grace once again. In the Christian way, she bared her soul in public, and she did it in a new world order arena, that had mocked the God-man on the cross. But let me backtrack, and bring you up to date.
This, of Esther Judas, is an affair of Washington D.C., of a most recent day, recent enough that is, and to remember all the lectures her husband gave, promises made, never kept, persuaded a world at large to follow him, a media to lie for him.
For Esther Judas, was forty years old, her husband a little older not much, he had begun life early in the slums of Africa, and backstreets of New Orleans, no one knew of him until late in his life, or most recently. Rarely, because of the thin shadow that was placed beside him. It was a time no one was questioning who he was, and where he came from, and what was his mandate, and who gave it to the henchman.
Esther, she had lived a more tranquil and richly life, one with song, wine and dance, and all the advantages of a Christian upbringing; her husband, seemed to have been a little more versatile, or amalgams in that area. His tight tongue had served him well, in that, where his destiny would lead him, none ever heard any gossip.
So when he stood and announced his candidacy for President, he was loaded with dynamite sufficient to explode the world, shake the world, put the world into a spell, and it was because his redeemer, had second sight; moreover, the timing was selected as if his master had looked ahead of time, and found the weak point, in incalculable years. And the seed was planted. But it was at this time she overhead, perhaps stayed some around the White House, after her husband made President, quite by chance of time and curiosity, hearing from meeting to meeting, being First Lady, his new theology—no, not new, rather just old uncovered theology he never talked about, learning indirectly his wizardry, his mixed personage. His real genealogy, he was by all means a compounded man in four parts. The Islamic fire he flamed within him, was hotter than the hounds of hell, hotter than wild stallions, for in him was the cunning, the wit and refinement, and primitiveness it would take to rule the world, to intertwine himself into the political arena, the Jewish state, the Christian Vatican, and the House of Islam, the philosophy, was that of Lucifer’s, anything goes. The agonizing spirit within his wife was for a long time under self- deceivement, of the entire cleaver scheme.
When it came to his wizardry, he had the words of Billy Graham, master of the Christian language, but doer of none. He overcome within him, a reservoir of appearance, that had his true soul been visible—there would be no adjectives, verbs, nouns even metaphors to describe it—he believed in a God of fury, much like those Islamic Fundamentalists, terrorists. He knelt to this God of friction, side to side within its revision of his so called Christian deity: the Father being Lucifer, and the Beast who wants to take over the world, and of course he was part of the beast, the son, being the Antichrist he was not here yet, but who was he? Perhaps the false Holy Ghost being the False Prophet? He was working for the Beast nonetheless, who was the World Government in the making, in the form of a house of worship, one that was seeking world power and adoration. He himself wondered on this, being of no race, a mongrel par excellence, genius with a dark flute.
Ah, her husband. He did a frontal attack on everything that was holy, once in America, revival of the dead, and his wife Esther, knelt to the Christian God, the son of man, Jesus Christ, no longer an apostate to his teachings, her husband being damned, and she had a vision, she saw him squirm and twist in damnation, and saw there was no escape, or at one time both she and her husband being or pretending to be, of the same faith, God’s servant, cleansing now took place, her subconscious no longer crushed, the weight lifted.
All would be saved in her house, now but him, for he would not, could not, leave his place in the ever-fluxing chaos of the world preordained for him lead into domination and damnation. He was not in denial, he fancied it.
What chance did she have, in such an environment, homogeneous to his kind, against this new world order? Had God not told her “One must go through this, to get to the other side,” in prayer she heard these words. She knew of her past, its willfulness, sinning—and so all she could do was remaining in prayer, in her library, day after day after day, most sensible she thought it to be.
It was a time of religious enthusiasm, purlieus of Washington D.C., in short, the new regime in Washington was spiritual again, but with a different God in place, no longer the God on the currency, where it once read “In God we Trust.” Bibles were burnt, gloriously, all hymns went to the new God, of the new, World Order. She would now go down on her knees though—as many did, and the ill things of a once good husband, of those far-off days, came to an end. And that is when she said, “You cannot serve two masters,” and added to that, “Hell is full of those who tried.”
And her husband said “Choose!” and thundered roared. And she chose, and no longer was her tongue silent. And God did not smile upon her husband.
And she cried to the Lord, saying “This rebirth is harder than giving birth, even harder than being born.” And so the situation remained in standstill, as they say.
Note: 677 (9-11-2010)
(A short story, of the New World Order, and its entourage)
“You cannot serve two masters,” said Esther Judas, to her husband, “hell is full of those who have dried!”
She had made her peace with God, pure in heart, unknowing until he became a powerful man, but as I say, she did not know it and though he continually jeered at God, she was right. For until she moved away from him for good—mentally that is, she had eliminated from her soul, this disciple of Lucifer, then did she become radiant in God’s grace once again. In the Christian way, she bared her soul in public, and she did it in a new world order arena, that had mocked the God-man on the cross. But let me backtrack, and bring you up to date.
This, of Esther Judas, is an affair of Washington D.C., of a most recent day, recent enough that is, and to remember all the lectures her husband gave, promises made, never kept, persuaded a world at large to follow him, a media to lie for him.
For Esther Judas, was forty years old, her husband a little older not much, he had begun life early in the slums of Africa, and backstreets of New Orleans, no one knew of him until late in his life, or most recently. Rarely, because of the thin shadow that was placed beside him. It was a time no one was questioning who he was, and where he came from, and what was his mandate, and who gave it to the henchman.
Esther, she had lived a more tranquil and richly life, one with song, wine and dance, and all the advantages of a Christian upbringing; her husband, seemed to have been a little more versatile, or amalgams in that area. His tight tongue had served him well, in that, where his destiny would lead him, none ever heard any gossip.
So when he stood and announced his candidacy for President, he was loaded with dynamite sufficient to explode the world, shake the world, put the world into a spell, and it was because his redeemer, had second sight; moreover, the timing was selected as if his master had looked ahead of time, and found the weak point, in incalculable years. And the seed was planted. But it was at this time she overhead, perhaps stayed some around the White House, after her husband made President, quite by chance of time and curiosity, hearing from meeting to meeting, being First Lady, his new theology—no, not new, rather just old uncovered theology he never talked about, learning indirectly his wizardry, his mixed personage. His real genealogy, he was by all means a compounded man in four parts. The Islamic fire he flamed within him, was hotter than the hounds of hell, hotter than wild stallions, for in him was the cunning, the wit and refinement, and primitiveness it would take to rule the world, to intertwine himself into the political arena, the Jewish state, the Christian Vatican, and the House of Islam, the philosophy, was that of Lucifer’s, anything goes. The agonizing spirit within his wife was for a long time under self- deceivement, of the entire cleaver scheme.
When it came to his wizardry, he had the words of Billy Graham, master of the Christian language, but doer of none. He overcome within him, a reservoir of appearance, that had his true soul been visible—there would be no adjectives, verbs, nouns even metaphors to describe it—he believed in a God of fury, much like those Islamic Fundamentalists, terrorists. He knelt to this God of friction, side to side within its revision of his so called Christian deity: the Father being Lucifer, and the Beast who wants to take over the world, and of course he was part of the beast, the son, being the Antichrist he was not here yet, but who was he? Perhaps the false Holy Ghost being the False Prophet? He was working for the Beast nonetheless, who was the World Government in the making, in the form of a house of worship, one that was seeking world power and adoration. He himself wondered on this, being of no race, a mongrel par excellence, genius with a dark flute.
Ah, her husband. He did a frontal attack on everything that was holy, once in America, revival of the dead, and his wife Esther, knelt to the Christian God, the son of man, Jesus Christ, no longer an apostate to his teachings, her husband being damned, and she had a vision, she saw him squirm and twist in damnation, and saw there was no escape, or at one time both she and her husband being or pretending to be, of the same faith, God’s servant, cleansing now took place, her subconscious no longer crushed, the weight lifted.
All would be saved in her house, now but him, for he would not, could not, leave his place in the ever-fluxing chaos of the world preordained for him lead into domination and damnation. He was not in denial, he fancied it.
What chance did she have, in such an environment, homogeneous to his kind, against this new world order? Had God not told her “One must go through this, to get to the other side,” in prayer she heard these words. She knew of her past, its willfulness, sinning—and so all she could do was remaining in prayer, in her library, day after day after day, most sensible she thought it to be.
It was a time of religious enthusiasm, purlieus of Washington D.C., in short, the new regime in Washington was spiritual again, but with a different God in place, no longer the God on the currency, where it once read “In God we Trust.” Bibles were burnt, gloriously, all hymns went to the new God, of the new, World Order. She would now go down on her knees though—as many did, and the ill things of a once good husband, of those far-off days, came to an end. And that is when she said, “You cannot serve two masters,” and added to that, “Hell is full of those who tried.”
And her husband said “Choose!” and thundered roared. And she chose, and no longer was her tongue silent. And God did not smile upon her husband.
And she cried to the Lord, saying “This rebirth is harder than giving birth, even harder than being born.” And so the situation remained in standstill, as they say.
Note: 677 (9-11-2010)
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