Thursday, March 26, 2015

Are We There Yet?


Jaye Beldo

In this video, I trip my brains out on Ibogaine in hopes to hop a free ride on the 2012 ascension band wagon.  This one goes out to Daniel Pinchbeck. I'm still waiting for this entheogenic mountebank to morph into Quetzacoatl as he promised he would do in one of his books.

(C)2015-Jaye Beldo

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Blood Lines


Jaye Beldo

There was a black cube atop the bar at the casino. Rihanna laid out some lines on it and handed me a rolled up C-note.

"I don't do coke." I said rather proudly.

"Ain't no coke." She smiled and covered one of her eyes. "It'll flush the washed up right out of you."

"What the hell." I said and snorted some, expecting one of my slot spins to  payola when the buzz hit.

"Why the shake?" The singer asked and folded up the packet of powder and handed it to me.  On it was written:

 A primal chill ran through me.

"Don't worry. An industry favorite." Rihanna said and did a line herself. " You'll be Abel to handle it cuz the ring tone you're now hearing contains the code." She said. "Wasn't the first murder for nothing you know. Still echoing through our pop hits if you listen close enough."

 I had only done one of the blood lines but it made me colder, like I was on Saturn's rings.

"All my praying in the desert for nothing. Should have known this was a trap." I eyed the C-note but didn't pocket it. "Never know how to read blood moons. Do you?"

"No bleeding moons here. We will copy your soul and sell it and preserve your authentic one in this cube. You will get all the success without paying the price like the rest of us. 20 million club instantly and no gravy and no Edomite agents you need to worry about at those Red Porrage parties you won't have to attend."

It was looking better now, the odds. I was down to my last ten after hours of losing at the Equinox machine.

I already understood what she was saying. Like I expected it. I started explaining the 144,000 Joules of force needed to render the God Particle into a needed fixative during the spring eclipse CERN circle jerk. She put her hand on my back and rubbed it. I started to apex, but Rihanna had morphed into an inevitable North Vegas crack whore.

"Poor thing. I got a tent in the Valley of Fire if you need somewhere to sleep tonight. That's where all us Strip losers go. Just save some of that Cain juice for later."

"I'd rather camp on Mount Hermon. The UN is making the fallen angels toe the line there. That's how Netanyahu got re-elected you know." I was Cain amped and confident. I put the last of my money into the machine and scored. Seven bull horns in a row and everyone in the Golden Corral turned their heads and clapped.

Not only would it be out of the desert southwest to escape the coming Jade Helm maneuvers, but out of the country and straight to the Holy Land for me....and the black cube as well.


Sunday, March 15, 2015

Power of the Grave: Part II


Jaye Beldo


I have a device that I cannot figure out.  It is supposed to be plugged into the bottomless pit, this thing. The pit that CERN will open, even deeper, on the eve of the coming Blood Moon.

I marvel at  its conduit mystery as well as the apocalyptic implications of its circuitry.  It spins like an aberrant dynamo. Abaddon stops the spin and snatches it up from my lap, looks at me with incalculable greed and throws it back through the membrane where it plummets down the dream abyss.

Disharmonic syncopation, the devil's arrhythmia. His orchestration for a fallen symphony is wired into the collider component stolen from me. Fanfare Armageddon for when the Edenic atom shattered creates a  magnitude vacuum beyond any measurable scale.

I look up from my ham and sweet potatoes at the other seniors gathered at the community center in Tecopa Hot Springs.  Even though my audience looks promising, I refrain from heralding. All the talk here is about hip surgery and cataract removal.

“Where you staying?” A white haired gent with dentures asks me and  notices my hand shaking as I hold a  forkful of green beans up to my mouth.

“Furnace Creek.” I blurt out.

“Watch out for Miss Calamine there.  She'll pretend to be looking for her dog.” Another next to him said.

I gobbled my beans. They were already cold.

My friend got me to thinking. Maybe the Borax biddy could help get my device back from the fallen angel and we could find a place to plug it in my tent. And we'd come to life. The dog too. For the first time ever things would light up.  We wouldn't have to worry about the sinkholes anymore. It would be the fixative needed to see us straight through the Higgs Boson mass.

I do a Devil's tap on the table and stare at what remains of my ham, then out the window.

When I look around the tables again, all have departed and the lights are off. A beautiful young woman, dark, waits at the door expectantly. I gather up my tablet and laptop, only half charged, and walk into the sun. She locks the door behind us.

I had no lines and now am back at my campsite, alone.  Can't get her waving coyly to me from the shade when I left out of my head.

A raven spies on me through a Creosote bush, cawing when I looked its way after opening to the Book of Revelation.

I had hoped he would have stuck around for my collider sermon, but he flew away, leaving me with bible in hand and  a panoramic spread of barren mountains all around where nary an oasis blip could be found.



(C)2015-Jaye Beldo

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Power of the Grave


Jaye Beldo

I will ransom them from the power of the grave; I will redeem them from death: O death, I will be thy plagues; O grave, I will be thy destruction: repentance shall be hid from mine eyes.

Hosea 13:14

I'm greeted with this scriptural admonition upon entry into Tecopa Hot Springs. Why I came here I still cannot fathom. The radiation readings just north of here in Furnace Creek are 4x Hazmat levels.  The ransom may very well be my life and I'm well prepared.  Reading my bible in such a desolate context takes on new meaning. I spend my days here searching the skies as to what will redeem me from death.

At night, I can see the malignant glow of Las Vegas to the east. China Lake military installation is just to the west. Before bed, I pray for protection from fallen angels and other ner' do wells while during the day, bizarre cloud formations greet me. Scalar sigil magic to open up dimensional portals in my estimation. One of the clouds looks a creature straight out of Revelation and hovers above my campsite, taunting me with its locust face and scorpion tail. 

I heard an odd roar one afternoon only to see two army beige aircraft with giant propellers buzz over me. Something from China Lake I'm guessing. An end time drill perhaps.

One night, I dream of Nicki Minaj. She's in a cage at the China Lake installation and is dressed like a 5 Star general-the uniform a garish hue of hot pink.  I wake up wanting to rescue her but my concern remains with the Amargosa Vole, an endangered critter that lives near the hot springs I soak in. Some crusty hippy told me about them and said we only have ten years left on this planet. He showed me the new SUV he bought w/ pot money. Said he didn't care about the poor gas mileage.

Now, I look at my atlas-wondering where to go, what plagues to embrace and whether or not I could dig a sufficient grave in the fragile mud hills that abound in the valley.

It rains as I scan the escape map outside my tent trying to decide, but I don't stick my tongue out.  The fallout drops just aren't to my taste. I retreat into the tent and listen to the repentant patter and it sounds like a warning from above, one I'm reluctant to plumb.


(C)2015-Jaye Beldo

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Christmas Eve/ Happy Meal


Jaye Beldo

I stared at the poster of some kids, all making the Devil's sign on the deck of a boat.  One of them hovered with upraised arms in the foreground focus, prior to a perverse baptism in the Colorado river. On a video monitor in a neighboring Terrible's, a blonde and Lycra-ed woman ran, then drank some sports water.  Every time I took a reluctant sip of the soda included with my Happy Meal, I'd look up and saw her sipping too. Some beverage entrainment was going on between us but she failed to uplift me, for the ad was infinitum. The cashier failed too. After giving me my change, she asked me to choose from a list on a card produced from under the cash register, emphasizing that it would cost me nothing to do so. Listed on the card were things like: Commit random acts of kindness, hug a dog, tell someone that you love them. I refused the unconditional offer and she plunked the card back down on the counter, looking at me with suspicion.

There were a few others whiling away their Christmas Eve desperation along with me.  As I hucked my Quarter Pounder down, pink slime and all, I could see a Toyota dealership across the road about a quarter mile away, with the All Seeing Eye logo emblazoned on the establishment.  I had dreamed about it the night prior. Some hooded members of a coven branded my forehead with the white hot symbol that was on a key chain. Then I saw my full name on the horizontal bar of a cross, in stark Helvetica font.

Worse than the dream import was the Sirius music pumped through the restaurant. I tried to block it with silicon ear plugs, then some ear buds through my tablet. I had some techno cranked full volume but the canned Pop still wormed its way into my skull. Meanwhile the meal solidified like concrete in my stomach.

 I returned to my campsite just at dusk and discovered that a friend had re-appeared after a long absence from Craggy Wash. She had parked her camper next to Lupe's tent and I saw her hobbling around with a cane. I cut across the wash and her three Chihuahuas barked and wagged their tails simultaneously. After sitting in a lawn chair, the dogs tried jumping up into my lap. Two of them made it.

"They stole my money. When I was in the hospital." Kelly replied after I asked her where she had been. "Crisp hundred dollar bill. Out of my wallet. Gone."

There were two full bottles of Jack Daniels behind her on the floor of her trashed camper. She asked me to light her cigarette and I did so.

"They hit me over the head with a rock. I know they did, because the lump was not on either side like when you fall and hit something. It was on top."

She took a sip of her drink. "Can't trust nobody."

"Before the accident, I was making six figures flipping houses with my husband. We had the most lavish parties. Funny how people that came to them would switch check out lanes in the grocery store when they saw me in a wheel chair."

I could only pet her dogs which looked at me expectantly. Taking the hint, I got up and put them on the ground, went over and hugged Kelly. Her body was stiff and a bit cold. Over her shoulder I could see bottles of pain pills on the kitchen counter. I had hoped to be blessed with the gift of miraculous healing at that moment but she trembled some more during my attempted laying on of hands.

Returning to my tent in the dark, I laid on my inflatable mattress, clutching my stomach and envisioning myself crucified atop a Prius in the celebratory glare of the coming New Year. It would be a sufficient atropopaic in my estimation, warding off any fair weather friends that may be drawn my own way when the inevitable Good News arrives as hinted at in the foreshadowings described above.

(C)2015-Jaye Beldo

Friday, December 19, 2014

Truth Hertz!


Jaye  Beldo

King David on a 528hz Harp?

Recently, I submitted an article I wrote on tainted marijuana: to
Dr. Leonard Horowitz and Sherri Kane. Other than meeting Len @ the Raw Spirit Festival in Sedona, Az., I had not checked into his work since the days I favorably reviewed his book Healing Codes of the Biological Apocalypse  back in 2000 or thereabouts.

Sherri responded that they would publish the piece on their Medical Veritas blog and since no one else I queried got back to me, I thought it would be good exposure.

In the interim, I then started digging into what Horowitz was up to and found much of it to be an outright turn off. Coming across an article entitled The King of Vain Deceit:

I discovered that megalomania had taken him over, at least from my POV-especially with his bloodline 'Overseer' claims. The article says the following comes from his website:

"Dr. Horowitz is a Levitical priest by virtue of his bloodline, spiritual direction, and ecclesiastical commitments. He is the body corporate and Overseer of The Royal Bloodline of David, an omni-denominational healing ministry.”

Here's the following from the Gotquestions.Org site:

The Levitical priesthood was never intended to be permanent (Hebrews 7:11). The death of Christ put an end to the Old Covenant and the Levitical priesthood, as evidenced by the rending of the temple veil (Matthew 27:51). Now Jesus Himself serves as the believer’s Great High Priest (Hebrews 4:14), called according to the order ofMelchizedek, not of Levi (Hebrews 7:11–17). Through His death and resurrection, we have access to God’s presence, where we can freely enjoy Him forever (Hebrews 6:19–20).

This made me doubt even more Len's spiritual claims.

I sent the Path of Truth link to Sherri and said I had misgivings about them running the piece. In addition, I was unclear as to their stance on biblical scripture considering how it is used in their defense against an Ayahuasca/DMT huckster trying to steal their land:

“These facts and illegal acts raise serious social concerns,” the doctor wrote, “risk medical emergencies, and underlie a cultural crisis in “One Nation Under God” that is Constitutionally founded on the principles of Christian monotheism (i.e., Judeo-Christian Levitical laws) that considers DMT use for ‘divine communion’ deadly sorcery and faithless hypocrisy.”  

The doctor referenced Acts 8:11; 13:8; Deuteronomy 18:9-10, and 18:14, that predicted nations falling because of “sorcery”—derived from the word “pharmakeia” or “pharmacy”—that is, prohibited (unlawful) use of mind-altering drugs.


Marijuana is mind altering-so why aren't Len and Sherri including this substance under the pharmakeia/sorcery heading?  Wouldn't smoking a joint and getting stoned be 'faithless hypocrisy' according to the scripture cited above?The above use of it comes off as quite contrived. It left me wondering what their stance on pot really was.

I then sent the following to Kane:

I'm sorry Sherri, but I read and re-read the articles you linked me to after I sent you my piece and the Judeo Christian/ Levitical law thing just doesn't come off very convincingly IMO. Also the pharmakeia/sorcery scripture you use from Galatians (I now stand corrected-they cited Deuteronomy and Acts) to bolster your defense makes it sound like you are against marijuana which I myself am not-only how it is grown. If you are such to-the-letter Christians why aren't you advocating killing homosexuals as stated in Leviticus 18:22? It just comes off as pick and choose scripture used to bolster an argument.

I have to agree w/ much written in the piece I sent. I reviewed Lens books prior to knowing about him being knighted, claiming he's of Davidic bloodline, etc. and that stuff just doesn't jive with me. It's just a personal thing and nothing against Len.   I suppose that makes me cointelpro though.

(emphasis added)

 I then received the following from Kane:

Jaye Beldo,

if you are not COINTELPRO, then you sure are stupid!

Can you show me your license to practice God? What gives you standing in God's jurisdiction to play God?

No real "Christians" would think about killing anyone!  What book are you reading, because it's certainly does not tell people to "kill" anyone in the bible that I have read? And your killing comment would only come out of the thoughts of a white trash white supremacist whom subscribes to Christian Identity aka satanism, not Christianity! 

I am a Hemp advocate, and believe it is a miracle plant, so I have not clue what you are talking about on that note either!

You appear to be angry that we did not publish your article soon enough, but that is because you are living in your own world. We are too busy defending ourselves from lies and BS put out by the COINTELPRO, which you are promoting!  But that of course is their agenda, to keep us busy....

And from wasting our time with clueless, insincere, fickle, homophobic racists like you who think you really know Dr. Horowitz or myself.

The information Dr. Horowitz writes is obviously way over your head so you look like an idiot attempting to critique it out of stupidity and jealousy and/or as part of the COINTELPRO agenda.

That link you are promoting to disparage Dr. Horowitz is a Christian Identity (white supremacist) website run by Paul "Cohen" and Sara Schmidt. You don't even know Dr. Horowitz, nor has he done anything wrong to you so you have no right to judge him. 

Look at your contradicting emails to us below, sounding supportive,  then suddenly out of the blue you start sending and promoting an COINTELPRO website! That is an example of a fractured personality.

If you are not COINTELPRO, you are sure playing by their playbook!

Good Luck because you are the one that needs to answer to God for your karma, attacking good people that have not done a thing to you!

Read your emails again and then your latest two, and take a good hard look in the mirror!  I personally don't know how you can live with yourself.

Oh and about the Knights of Malta BS your refer to in this email, the COINTELPRO have even taken that lie back, because it was so stupid, and we exposed it!

I am just happy we did not publish the article of a hateful racist like you!  That was a blessing! 

But I will publish this email thread as an example of COINTELPRO-like behavior. And Yes it will be "Spot On" !!!

Notice how nothing in the e-mail I sent is addressed specifically- such as their use of the above posted scripture to bolster a legal argument, nor Len's claim to being of 'Davidic' bloodline.  Sherri goes into defense mode,accuses me of 'attacking' and bypasses constructive dialogue by lashing out with name calling-a convenient bit of sleight of hand indeed. Based on what I've read-pretty much anyone who disagrees with Len and Sherri are labeled COINTELPRO. There is no reference to the Christian Identity movement in the article I linked her to whatsoever.

Racist?  Please check out the following I wrote:

Fickle?  I'll let the reader who has diligently imbibed in this blog decide.

And speaking of fickle, Sherri regards herself as a 'Levitical Priestess' and claims people regarded her as a 'prophetess' whatever that means. Please check this out:

Fractured personality? Perhaps, considering it much resembles a Byzantine mosaic when I look at it in the mirror.

In my estimation-neither Len or Sherri have any doubts as to their spiritual magnificence, nor importance after my attempt to communicate, esp. considering the titles the two of them so unabashedly tout. The convenient label of 'Omni-Denominational' comes off like a euphemism for 'anything goes' along as it promotes Len and Sherri's agenda and does not go against it in any way.  

It would be best if they sold everything they have, give the steam vent property they're parked on to the indigenous Hawaiian people and go work for Doctors without Borders-or Dentists without Borders as the case may be. Better yet-they should go ladle soup at the nearest Salvation Army kitchen in a self effacing, humbling, Sermon on the Mount kind of way.

And in regards to the 528hz tone this Levitical duo thinks will change the world? Len should get a patent on it like Harley Davidson did with the sound of their motorcycles. It would be the most honest and transparent thing he has done in a long time in regards to his ulterior and corporate motives.

Len Horowitz and Sherri Kane:
'Levitical' Priest and Priestess
and hawkers of the 528hz and
other assorted vibes.


Jaye Beldo is the author of A Stab in the Light, A New Age murder mystery that exposes con artists such as Len and Sherri and is available @:

(C)2014-Jaye Beldo

Monday, November 24, 2014

The Last Post


Jaye Beldo

Signing off, once again, from blogging. Just not pulling in enough readers here. Need to write crass, sensationalist stuff to do that and appeal to the  12 yr. old mentality/attention span that pervades-thanks to iPhones et. al. The collective depression that bleeds through into my brain and into these posts doesn't help matters much either and I still can't bring myself to get on meds and get chemically happy like so many are doing. Also, I've been censoring my own writing and am using this as a warning sign to stop.

This farewell may be a hoax though. Like Ferguson, Mo. and the 'beheading' of James Foley. It could be the Capgras delusion that is causing me to blog retreat as I'm beginning to think that my reading audience has been replaced by imposters en masse.

Either/Or way, I'm out of here. I'll continue to camp in the desert, looking for pockets of hope through a smokescreen of mirages. Dance with the dust devils at hand and put a bet on the Lotto teleology so many others are opting to train their cross hairs on, pardon the pun. All the while continuing to do my positive affirmations and open up promising neuronal pathways more conducive to manifesting my destiny.

Prior to escaping from California,  I requested a living will from my doctor when my blood pressure was all jacked up and was handed a copy of what is called the  'Five Wishes' which deals with such things as whether or not to be put on life support when one is terminally ill, where one's cremains shall be put, etc. I dutifully filled it out, but when I got to Wish # Five, I was stumped:

If anyone asks how I want to be remembered, please say the following about me:

I stared at this for about five minutes and came up with a total blank. I waited a day and stared at it some more. Nothing. Then, what I consider to be palpable remembrances, started surfacing:

Remember me as the galaxy-less space within  large scale structures, spanning billions of light years before reaching quasars in remote, inner outposts.

Remember me as someone who successfully folded Planck Time in upon itself  using sophisticated NSA algorithms and marveled as it produced rogue infinity seeds like some sub-quantum Pomegranate.  

Remember me as the guy who tried getting a patent on a trash compactor that would condense all the world's religions into a Dreidel to spin during some pan-ecumenical counsel. Which ever religion landed face up after the twirl, would then be globally enforced by whoever had control of the toy.

It would have to be a polyhedral Dreidel

JSYK-Whirlpool stole my idea and plan on selling it to the Vatican. No doubt the papal thugs are going to load the thing in their favor like Craps dice at some north Las Vegas casino.  But I'm too despondent at this time to proceed with a law suit as I'm quite wary of lawyers these days.

These are a just a few of  the things I want to be remembered for. But there just isn't enough to space to pen them in my Five Wishes pamphlet-hence me posting them on this blog rather self indulgently.

My apologies though for this morbidity. On a brighter note, it is back to feeding my beloved Antelope Ground Squirrel Sparky and using the Tolouse tuning on my guitar to play for my beloved Chuckwallas. It makes their scales iridescent, especially when I tune to 528hz.

Adios every one and thanks for visiting The Road from Ruin blog.

Acta est fabula plaudite!

All the Best,

Jaye Beldo

(C)2014-Jaye Beldo