The death of love?
No. Love shall not die. The love of money. The love of capitalism. Wandering down a lonely road, looking for salvation; how will you die? With a mouthful of ashes? Or with a fistful of dollars?
Those who know, those who believe, shall live forever. Smiling on the astral plane. Burning in the desert of their dreams. Bleeding in the night sky. Such glory lasts forever. Do not be afraid. Do not fear the Reaper.
Have you seen your shadow? Did it speak to you? The shadow of your life, your body, has a reality of its own. Run, and it will find you, carrying all the riches you have accumulated. You cannot escape your shadow. You cannot escape your wealth. Do not pretend to be poor. Do not be ashamed of your profession. Love everything in your life. Love your shadow. It will dance with you at the time of your death.
The love of money is a burning. Capitalism shall not burn you out. Walk into the fire. Have faith. You are doing the right thing. You are not the only one. You are not the lonely one. Millions have died, and lived on. Their ghosts walk beside you. They want you to succeed. They want you to be rich. They want to see you in a shower of champagne. Do not disappoint them.
You shall not be crunched. The gods will not allow it. You are one of the righteous. Look into your heart. You know you have been chosen. Would you be reading this, if you had not been chosen? Would you be feeling the fire of my love, if you had not been chosen? But let wisdom take you beyond these words. Let go. Let go of your mind. Let go of your devilish rationality. Fall. Fall into nothingness. Let your mind die in the abyss. Because your soul shall live. A beautiful spirit burning with money, the way, the way Big Herb intended. He wanted this for you. And you wanted it for yourself.
I love you. Big Herb loves you. Ganesh the elephant god loves you. The ghosts of the dead financiers love you. The mystical children love you. You are a child yourself. You love yourself. And I am sure that Bobby Diamond loves you as well. Give him a chance. He is only at the beginning, and the way is long. The way to money. To love.
The envious losers
Have you seen them, the sad ones? They have no money. It does not burn for them, the way it burns for you. Should you feel sorry for them? No. Let them stew in their own juices. I am not speaking of the happy poor. The ones who are free to dance in the sunshine, with no thought of tomorrow. No. I am speaking of the socialists, the communists, the haters of mysticism, Satan’s useful idiots. Oh yes, these fools do the devil’s work. They are not righteous. They are self-righteous. If they are clean, it is because they have not had the opportunity to get dirty. They are not without love for money. But they hide their love. The sad truth is that money does not love them. Money will not touch them. It will not burn for them.
The midnight moment
Have you ever had an eternal midnight moment? Have you stood staring at the moon, at one with nature, the cosmos, and capitalism?
How are your nights? How do you fill them? Do you fill them with the nonsense of the world, or do you escape to an astral plane in your mind?
You must try to find an eternal midnight moment that you can call your own, and you must burn within that moment for a thousand years. But it will last less than a second. And a moment of a million years will last less than a minute. Billions of years will breathe for you all the way to the dawn.
The secret of capitalism can be found in the midnight of your soul. Money pouring from a wounded moon. Angels rocking in the wind. A desert for you to burn in.
Step outside yourself. Step deeper into the cosmos. In your moment. Will it last forever? Yes. If you want it to. The past is there. The present. And the future. The future of capitalism. Go into a trance. Dance. Dance. Dance. Peyote visions. Dance. Dance. Dance.
The money that grows
We all know that money grows. But not on trees. That is a myth.
Money grows in your heart, your soul. Feed it with fire. Your passion is important. There will be no future for any of us if the flame dies.
The mystic future
The mystic future is coming, as all futures come. So let us bang a monstrous drum. One to scare all the devils away. We shall dance, stoned forever, into the future.
The future belongs to us, and we belong to the future. We have been chosen for this. It is our destiny. Capitalism will grow. It will not die. It will get stronger, and bigger, and meaner, and fitter.
Go to that midnight in your soul. See fires of money exploding in space, stars shining for us, planets moving, dancing to our tune. We are in control. The markets belong to us.
FTSE. Dow Jones. Take them higher, and higher, and higher. Stoned in space. Inner space. Outer space. What do we care?
There was a way that will come again. An ancient way. What do you think this is all about? I have not carried you to the top of the mountain to let you down. Come with me. Let us get high.
Roll the money around and around. Fall down on the ground. I want to see you burning in the sand. Laugh. Cry. Everything is the same. This is the future. Our future. Real strength is coming. Feel the power. The trip of a lifetime. The ride of a deathtime. The healing you have always dreamt of. Burn, burn, burn.
Burning, burning, burning.
It all burns in the end. This is what the future is. Capitalism burns us. Can you feel it? Can you feel the love? Your teeth should be chattering by now. If they are not, you are doing something wrong.
Your eyes should be red by now. Flames coming out. Heat. I want to see the serpent in your eyes. Let us share a midnight moment. Share it now, and forever, in the future, for all eternity.
Bleeding.
Money bleeds. Capitalism bleeds.
Touch the future. Reach out and Big Herb will be there. He smokes for you on high. He burns with you in mind. This is what you wanted. Follow him. Follow me. Follow capitalism. Capitalism is taking you. We are all in this together. We have to make it work.
