Friday, August 9, 2024

Kevin Wikse is back on TUMBLR!

 Kevin Wikse TUMBLR



I return to TUMBLR! 

Kevin Wikse (tumblr.com)

@kevinwikse 

I am back on Tumblr, baby!!! And it feels like stepping into the gender-confused lion’s den of degenerates—a true blessing to be scorned and eternally loathed by the Devil himself. His minion horde, a sad, sorry assembly of micro-penis'ed, horse semen-chugging commie "White Dudes for Kamala Harris," card-carrying members of NAMBLA, and their 500lb blue-haired baby-murdering ogress counterparts shrieking in tandem at my posts. This is the battleground where the damned come to wail, and I couldn’t be more at home. Bring it the fuck on!

Who am I? 

In a world teetering on the brink of the unknown, where shadows whisper secrets and the night holds its breath, one man stands as the last sentinel against the encroaching darkness. Meet Kevin Wikse, the modern-day conjurer who wields ancient wisdom like a sharpened blade. With a mind as sharp as a ritual dagger and a wit as quick as a spectral apparition, Kevin delves into the arcane, the esoteric, and the enigmatic. He’s the master occultist who can unravel the mysteries of the universe with the same ease as untying a shoelace. 

His expertise in psychoenergetics turns the ordinary into the extraordinary, the mundane into the magical. Ever wondered what lies beyond the veil of our reality? Kevin’s your guide, your navigator through the realms of ESP, lucid dreaming, and astral projection. He’s the beacon of light in the ever-thickening fog of global tyranny and dictatorship, awakening dormant energy bodies and sharpening intuitive skills. Join Kevin as he deciphers the cryptic, challenges the unseen, and dances on the edges of reality. 

This is not just a journey—it’s a call to arms for every adept ready to rise against the mundane and embrace the mystical. Step into the shadows with Kevin Wikse, where the supernatural becomes natural, and the impossible is just another adventure waiting to be had.

-Kevin Wikse


Thank you for visiting my page. I am the only medium, remote viewer, and occultist who, with frightening and stunning accuracy, foresaw the COVID-19 pandemic/hoax and its sinister connections to China. Masks, weaponized and experimental vaccines, mandatory compliance, medical tracking on smartphones, the debacle of the 2020 election, the border crisis, the ILLEGAL migrant and CCP invasion, the specter of World War III, and the looming Magnetic Pole Reversal Global Cataclysm—I predicted it all. VAIDS (Vaccine Acquired Immunological Deficiency Syndrome) and even Dr. Fauci himself, all in my sights as early as 2014. Don’t believe it? See the complete, time-stamped, and documented evidence HERE

Additionally, I accurately predicted BOTH President Trump’s assassination attempt and that Joe Biden would not run again in 2024 for re-election in my “Merry Crisis and a Happy New Fear” 2024 post on 1/1/24.HERE

And that’s not all. My occult and remote influencing work played a pivotal role in the downfall of Jeffrey Epstein, the billionaire pedophile and human trafficker. This too is time-stamped and documented. Witness a true and authentic act of Solomonic conjuration from the Lesser Key, Ars Goetia. HERE

Please visit my Official Site HERE.

Friday, August 2, 2024

A Witch Doctor and his Demon Dog: Conjuration and Black Magic with the Demon Sirchade by Kevin Wikse

 A Witch Doctor and his Demon Dog by Kevin Wikse



Blood trickled profusely from her nose, cascading down, in, and over her busted lips, pooling at her feet, splattering on mine. Her left eye dangled from its socket, a gruesome pendulum. Tears and blood left a trail of misery on the floor of my double-wide. Her beautiful face, with its exotic features and dark caramel complexion, was beaten to a pulp. She was almost unrecognizable. It was hard to look at, harder still to maintain my calm. I teetered on the brink of going nuclear. But that’s not what she needed. She needed comfort and security. I would walk the warpath soon enough. She sobbed and wailed on my shoulder, and I held her tenderly until her sister arrived.

The three of us solemnly discussed what would happen next.

No cops. That was a given. The police would interfere with natural justice and add unnecessary complications. Her sister would drive her to a friend’s place outside Phoenix. Her ex-boyfriend wouldn’t think to look there. Her daughter would stay with her aunt and uncle in Yuma, then go rock-hounding in Quartzsite. They’d post misleading information about their whereabouts on social media.

That left me with the dirty work.

I started to prepare a floor wash to mop up the triage but thought better of it. Let the trauma mark the violence, an attractant for the earthbound dead and spirits of vengeance. No shortage of potential spiritual allies to barter with for support.

Her ex-boyfriend was going to be a challenging target. He knew me. We lived close to each other and already had a few minor run-ins. If I came screaming in on him like a tomahawk missile, I’d likely be named a suspect. He wasn’t worth the potential prison time or the effort to avoid it. He was also gang-affiliated, marked by an official MS-13 offshoot local to South Tucson. I had ties with La Sombra Negra, “The Black Shadow,” a death squad with MS-13 in their crosshairs. I protected La Sombra Negra’s regional informants and coordinated certain efforts. I was like the tongue living among the teeth here in South Tucson.

It would be a few more months before I could fulfill my obligations and leave Tucson. Paradoxically, there was a peculiar safety in being here. I was hiding from the devil where he’d least expect it—in hell itself. The less heat I took on in an already scorching country, the better. Openly attacking her ex-boyfriend would undoubtedly bring heat.

My attack needed to be surgical, best employed by spectral hands. If the right circumstances presented the opportunity to end her ex-boyfriend physically, make it look gang-related, or implicate another enemy of mine, I’d take it. But until then, I perused the fearsome intellects in the Grimorium Verum for my opening salvo.

MS-13 is heavily integrated with black magic traditions. Satanism with Aztec trappings, bootleg Palo Mayombe, and Brujeria with left-handed narco-saints were shared among all the factions. However, it was the reverence and worship of Santa Muerte in her black robe that stood above all else. South Tucson is home to a small Santa Muerte Temple; I knew he attended services. But how devoted he was to her veneration, I did not know. Intuitively, I suspected it was minimal. The more I sussed my intuition over it, his devotion felt lacking, as if he had promised something to her for help but had not delivered.

That night, I dressed my ritual table in pure crimson. I filled a large metal goblet with whiskey and an admixture of human and animal blood for a centerpiece before igniting the libation. To the leaping flames, I read invocations, exorcisms, and dedications to Saint Cyprian, the Three Kings, and Saint Christopher the Dog-Head. As the fire began to bend and wildly spiral in odd, unnatural angles, I enunciated the barbarous words of Lucifer’s, Astraroth’s, and Beelzebuth’s diabolical evocations.

“Who among your servitors possesses the skills I need to accomplish my vengeful task?” I asked the Infernal Hierarchy in a measured and serious tone. I sat back in my chair and readied myself, opening my psychic senses.

My clairaudience was struck with a crescendo of cackling, maniacal laughter, and guttural voices within a choir of screams, eerie discordant, cacophonous music. The room began to sway, and I let my mind wade into a stream of demonic consciousness and focused my clairvoyance on the tendrils of fire whirling inside the goblet. In the last burst of the dying flame was drawn a particular demon’s sigil, black as pitch—my answer had come.

The fire abruptly snuffed out, and I sat in the dark, ready for direct communication. Little by little, the sounds of snarling and hissing grew in equal measure with the horrendous stink of what I imagined to be filthy, shit-filled zoo cages containing rotting animals. A tell-tale sign that a demonic presence was stabilizing.

Sirachde, the Evil King of all that is Bestial, had come to wheel and deal. I can’t discuss the specifics of our blood pact or the aim of our ongoing work other than to say it aligns with my inherent wrathful tendencies. Sirachde promised to display a sign appropriate to his nature, signifying his acceptance of our agreement.

With Sirachde’s influence lingering within my psychic atmosphere, I fell asleep into a nightmare of slow-motion brutality and ridiculous cruelty. Nondescript humans visited endless horror and depraved cruelty upon whimpering, crying, defenseless animals. Humans screamed in anguish and vomited with fear as large chimera creatures devoured and raped them.

Authentic black magic is not for the weak-minded or faint of heart.

The true Adeptus must possess a steely will and unbreakable resolve. They must not succumb to the grotesque and macabre images projected at them by sinister and malevolent forces. The Magician strengthens themselves against both the adversary and the adversity. Such dreams are meant to crack and unravel the exorcist’s psyche, allowing the entity to exercise its will over the Magician.

The internet is rife with demonically puppeted occultists. Other than praying for their deliverance, ignore them as they serve masters beyond their understanding.

No, such dreams serve to sweeten my feelings toward animals, increase my compassion, and reinforce my resolve to heal humanity’s collective mental and spiritual illness.

A day later, I discovered a rattlesnake torn to shreds by a coyote or hawk, maybe a javelina, on my doorstep. I knew this was a message from Sirachde. He accepted our pact. I took the mangled rattlesnake and squeezed its blood onto the parchment that bore our pact’s terms. With the work ready, I allowed my intention to maim or kill the ex-boyfriend to become laser-focused.

My dream the following night had me face-to-face with a German Shepherd, one of the dogs the ex-boyfriend and his MS-13 amigos kept on their property. It felt like I was looking into a mirror, as if we shared an ancestor less distant than God. Upon awakening, I recalled a story my Godfather once told me. Using one of Voudu’s highest mysteries, he projected his consciousness into an enemy’s pet Rottweiler. Taking possession of the dog, he attacked his enemy while he slept, permanently maiming and nearly killing him. Was Sirachde prescribing a similar course of action?

It was barely 2:00 am. Rather than go back to sleep, I struck while the iron was hot and re-dressed my table in pure crimson. I would consult Sirachde during an hour when his influence was peaking. The pungent odor of burning hair and rotten meat quickly wafted into my ritual space. Sirachde’s presence was nicely anchored into our pact, and he was readily available for my Red Table session.

Sirachde detailed a “witch’s brew” of sorts. A philter of human and dog bones, liquors, and assorted plant material. These were to be simmered together and rendered into a decoction under his auspices. Then a steak was soaked and boiled in the broth until the outside was slightly cooked, but the inside left plenty raw. I was to give one half to the German Shepherd. I was to eat the other half as I watched the dog eat his and recite a simple but harsh and unpleasant incantation.

As a priest or Palero of Palo Mayombe, I regularly collect and purchase bones of various sorts, dog and human included. Some of the plant materials I had to source at a local botanica. Finally, I procured a steak from a nearby carnicerĂ­a. I was prepared. As night fell, I tore the still-hot steak from the “witch’s brew” in two. I armed myself with my Hellcat 9mm and Cold Steel Karambit and crept down the alleyway to the back fence of the ex-boyfriend’s house. The German Shepherd and two other dogs lazily patrolled the backyard. I waited until the German Shepherd separated from the other dogs and lobbed the steak through the fence.

The thud of the steak hitting the ground alerted the other two dogs, but the German Shepherd quickly snatched it up and ran to the opposite corner of the fence. As I ate the other piece, I watched him devour the meat and spoke the incantation between bites. The task completed, I returned and occupied myself till midnight.


At midnight, I dressed my ritual table in pure crimson and invoked Sirchade. What followed was genuinely bizarre. Allowing my mind to sink into a stream of demonic consciousness, I was pulled deeper into an assisted trance. My psychic perception saw me floating down a river of blood, images of modern-day dogs and humans moving backward in time to when wolves, tempted by the scent of meat cooking over open fires, dared enter into man's primitive encampments. Becoming both friend and slave.


Suddenly, my sight refocused on a filthy kitchen floor. Loose pellets of dog food and stains littered the linoleum. Cockroaches darted and scurried between morsels and shelters. I was looking through the German Shepherd's eyes! Shocked, I was nearly locked into a state of semi-disbelief. Is this possible, even as I was actualizing it? My Godfather had not been fabricating, I marveled.


Sirchade growled, redirecting my attention to the task. Attempting to navigate the dog was like driving a truck with a confusing plethora of clutches and gears, getting more complicated by the second. I realized that the German Shepherd was still in here with us. Sirchade attempted to scare out his waking consciousness and allow me access to his motor control. As miraculous as this experience was, Sirchade and I could feel substantial interference. Frightened and distressed, the German Shepherd was coming back in and pushing up out.


The link was severed.


The tension in my ritual space was hot and heavy. Sirchade was furious, raving about a powerful force, a tall skinny woman in a black dress, nullifying his dominion. This experience was highly disorienting to me. It was almost 3 a.m., and I was scheduled to work in a couple of hours. Protesting loudly, Sirchade did not go quietly as I dismissed him back to the astral plane.


The thought persisted on the edge of sleep, "A tall skinny woman in a black dress?" Who could Sirchade be talking about? Who could be strong enough to hinder the force of the Grimorium Verum? The realization hit me like a freight train!


Santa Muerte, in the black robe.


Just like that, there she was. I was standing before her. The ex-boyfriend was there too. He looked in a daze, cowering behind her. She was shielding him with her scythe! I trembled. Not out of fear so much as the power she radiated. She was not so much a Saint but a Goddess who had undergone a syncretic transformation to reconnect with the descendants of her devotees. She deliberately pointed to the ground at the trail of blood and tears with her bony, bleach-white finger. Santa Muerte disapproved of the violence he committed against the mother of his child. Next, she outstretched her upturned hand, reaching out to me with her open palm.


I jolted awake and back into my body. The psychic projection from earlier still had my consciousness floating around on a loose tether. I remembered clearly falling asleep and slipping down a dark, silky oblivion.


Despite the fantastic experiences, my workday was typical. On my way home, I noticed I passed the small temple to Santa Muerte. Feeling powerfully compelled to go in, I made a U-turn and parked. Upon entering the establishment, I was greeted by three large statues of Santa Muerte. One in white, one in red, and finally black. All on the same table with offerings of candles, flowers, tequila, bread, cigarettes, and blunts. No one was at the front desk. I waited a couple of minutes for someone to come out from a back room, but no one did.


I tightly rolled up a few $20 bills and placed them in the left hand of Santa Muerte in the black robe as best I could. I asked her to protect the woman and her daughter from further violence and intrusions of evil men and to please allow me to complete my work. A tangible sense of peace descended over me with strong vibes that everything was about to be resolved.


Tonight, I would reestablish the psychic link with the German Shepherd and hope Santa Muerte would remove her protection and let me serve natural justice by supernatural means, or, if not, try my best to get around her. I was not overly optimistic about my chances in that particular scenario.


The evening brought with it an anxiety I had never felt before. Sharp pangs of panic. I was jittery and paced back and forth. At one point, all I wanted to do was hide. But where and from what? I did not know. These feelings started to spike, and I surmised I might be having a panic attack, even though I had never had one. A first time for everything, right? At about that time, my mouth was saturated with the taste of something like butter melted in an iron skillet. I was unnerved and becoming legitimately concerned. I was Googling my symptoms when gunshots pierced the night. Gunshots in South Tucson are not uncommon, but these were very close by. Gunshots rang out again, followed by screaming. More gunshots and more screams.


I holstered my Hellcat 9 mm and Cold Steel Karambit and tactically slipped out my backdoor. The screams were coming from the alleyway behind me. I tentatively followed the commotion, keeping low, tight to the wall, and in the shadows. I peeked around the corner and saw a small crowd assembling. A few more people poured out the back gate where the ex-boyfriend lived.


It was apparent something had happened.


I watched and waited. Distant police sirens grew louder, and soon after, a line of cop cars rolled up. South Tucson PD came in force. EMS and ambulances were next. I stuck around until the police helicopter with its spotlight appeared overhead. I decided then was a good time to ghost the scene and go home.


The neighborhood watch list on my Nextdoor app popped off and began blowing up my phone. Accounts of what happened poured in over the next couple of hours. They differed slightly, but most shared a consistent thread. A woman I know who frequented that house for drugs posted her account of the evening, claiming she witnessed it. It fit the others and had specific details that made it credible.


There had been an uptick in methamphetamine use at the house, and today tensions flared over a large sum of money that had gone missing. A fight broke out between two men. One of the names she posted was the ex-boyfriend. The other man involved in the altercation with him, a housemate, was the owner of the dogs. When he was attacked, one or possibly more dogs attacked the ex-boyfriend, ripping his leg open. Guns were pulled, and shots were fired. The ex-boyfriend caught a few of those bullets. The next day I heard from the same source that he was hospitalized and in critical condition.


I am convinced my anxiety was the German Shepherd's as tensions escalated. The taste in my mouth was the ex-boyfriend's blood from when the dog bit into him. Santa Muerte had lifted her protection of him, and my psychic link was no longer suppressed. However, it seemed she had a different fate in store for him. I accomplished my task in a roundabout way. I may not have achieved the feat of my Godfather, at least not yet. Still, I was able to experience it and establish a new baseline in my ongoing development regarding the mysteries and domain of Sirchade.


I have learned through the mother of his child, now many months after the fact, he has become a longtime ward of the Arizona Department of Corrections and is having a difficult time. Santa Muerte, la negra, wanted him under her restrictive, saturnine thumb. Whatever happened to the dog, I don't know. The house was emptied with realtor locks placed on the doors. It remained that way for the rest of my time in Tucson.


I walk exclusively with Santa Muerte in her white robe. In honor of the experience, I dedicated a dog's bone to her. I ask her to help me ensure that all the work I do with the Demon Sirchade, all the skin-leaping and lycanthropic mysteries I practice, be purified, sanctified, and made holy so that I am always on the side of righteousness. My Godfather once told me, “Few things cleanse the soul like Hellfire; you must never forget the line between clean and charred is exceptionally thin.”

-Kevin Wikse

Thank you for visiting my page. I am the only medium, remote viewer, and occultist who, with frightening and stunning accuracy, foresaw the COVID-19 pandemic/hoax and its sinister connections to China. Masks, weaponized and experimental vaccines, mandatory compliance, medical tracking on smartphones, the debacle of the 2020 election, the border crisis, the ILLEGAL migrant and CCP invasion, the specter of World War III, and the looming Magnetic Pole Reversal Global Cataclysm—I predicted it all. VAIDS (Vaccine Acquired Immunological Deficiency Syndrome) and even Dr. Fauci himself, all in my sights as early as 2014. Don’t believe it? See the complete, time-stamped, and documented evidence HERE

Additionally, I accurately predicted BOTH President Trump’s assassination attempt and that Joe Biden would not run again in 2024 for re-election in my “Merry Crisis and a Happy New Fear” 2024 post on 1/1/24.HERE

And that’s not all. My occult and remote influencing work played a pivotal role in the downfall of Jeffrey Epstein, the billionaire pedophile and human trafficker. This too is time-stamped and documented. Witness a true and authentic act of Solomonic conjuration from the Lesser Key, Ars Goetia. HERE

Please visit my Official Site HERE.

Thursday, June 20, 2024

Mountain over Thunder Psychoenergetics Daoyin Qigong Torsional Field Activation and Generation by Kevin Wikse

 Kevin Wikse Vimana Qigong



In a world teetering on the edge of an inevitable and catastrophic magnetic pole shift, where ancient knowledge and modern science collide, emerges a guide unlike any other. Mountain over Thunder Psychoenergetics Daoyin Qigong: Vimana Merkaba Chariot Mysteries Volume One is a profound journey into the heart of esoteric wisdom and advanced spiritual practices, crafted with meticulous care and an unflinching eye for the truth.

Kevin Wikse, a master of psychoenergetics and an adept of the occult, takes you through the foundational exercises that will prepare you for the coming storm. With a voice as stark and resonant as the desert wind, Wikse lays bare the secrets of the Chong Mai, the central channel that is the lifeline of your physical and spiritual being. He delves into the synchronization of brain hemispheres, the creation of powerful torsion fields, and the development of your Vimana/Merkaba/Chariot—your divine vehicle for navigating the unseen realms. This book is not merely a manual; it is a lifeline. As the world hurtles towards a global cataclysm, the knowledge within these pages will arm you with the tools to not only survive but thrive. The dual inner and outer rotations, the integration of the right and left brain, and the harnessing of scalar waves will transform you into a beacon of strength and clarity amidst the chaos. Wikse's writing, steeped in the stark beauty and unrelenting realism, draws you into a landscape where the stakes are as high as the sky. The prose is both haunting and enlightening, guiding you through the esoteric with the precision of a surgeon and the soul of a poet. Mountain over Thunder Psychoenergetics Daoyin Qigong: Vimana Merkaba Chariot Mysteries Volume One is more than a book. It is a call to arms, a beacon in the dark, and a roadmap to mastery in an uncertain world. The journey is perilous, the rewards beyond measure. Step into the unknown, and emerge transformed. Prepare. Survive. Thrive.

Availabe HERE

Kevin Wikse

Tuesday, May 21, 2024

Hero's Journey: The Sword from The Sone "Mastering the One-hand Overhead Press" by Kevin Wikse

 Kevin Wikse Hero's Journey


This book will take you on a journey—a journey not just of mind and body, but of spirit and flesh, might and magic. A Hero’s Journey! This is a story of initiation and transformation; YOUR story of initiation and transformation. You will BECOME Arthur, endure his trials of pulling the sword from the stone, and through fearless, unyielding effort, you will claim YOUR own heroic destiny!

This book is the first of its kind. A unique new genre that merges strength training, mythology, and personal transformation!

Throughout the ages, grand tales have been spun of heroic men and women who struggle against all odds to conquer misshapen creatures of the noonday wood and delusive shadows in the pitch of night. Heroes always emerge victorious from their perilous journeys and are hailed for their beneficent deeds. Heeding a call, heroes of legend step forth from a mundane world to seek greatness.

Now it is YOUR turn to venture forth upon a path less traveled. You are about to cast yourself in the lead role of the greatest story you have yet known—the story of your Heroic Evolution...your HERO'S JOURNEY.

Are you ready?

$5 HERE

-Kevin Wikse

Kevin Wikse's Official Site

Monday, May 20, 2024

Crystal-Gazing & Spiritual Clairvoyance: Upated and Revised by one of the last living Masters of the Arte for the aspiring modern Adept by Kevin Wikse

 Kevin Wikse


In a world rife with chaos and deception, the ancient wisdom of crystal gazing and spiritual clairvoyance is more essential than ever. Over a century ago, Dr. L.W. de Laurence illuminated the path to developing intuition and clairvoyance. Today, this knowledge is crucial yet shrouded by a global elite determined to keep humanity blind and subjugated.

As a seasoned occultist and psychic warrior, Kevin Wikse has taken on the vital task of modernizing de Laurence's masterpiece. His mission is to arm spiritual seekers and psychic warriors with the tools to navigate our tumultuous times. The elites, intent on global control, fear the awakening of humanity, knowing that true sight can unravel their plots. This revised edition strips away archaic language and obsolete references, presenting the distilled essence of de Laurence's teachings. This is not just a guidebook; it's a call to arms for those ready to fight against the tide of darkness. Through steady focus and disciplined practice, you will learn to develop your intuition and clairvoyance. The crystal will become your ally, offering clarity and insight in a world clouded by illusion. In these pages, you will find the tools to awaken your dormant abilities, sharpen your intuitive skills, and harness the power of the crystal for spiritual empowerment. Become a psychic warrior, capable of seeing beyond the physical hindrances and labyrinthine conspiracies that ensnare the unwary. The battle for humanity's soul is raging. Embrace this ancient wisdom, modernized for today's seekers, and join the fight to expose the truth and thwart the dark plans of those who seek to control and destroy. Stand tall, see clearly, and let the light of truth guide you to victory.

$10 on Lulu: LINK

For more information, visit Kevin Wikse’s official website and join the community of enlightened seekers.

Sunday, May 19, 2024

The Mystical Textbook of The Hindu Occult Chambers The Magic and Occultism of India Hindu and Egyptian Crystal Gazing The Hindu Magic Mirror: Updated and Revised by one of the last living Masters of the Arte for the aspiring modern Adept. By Kevin Wikse

Kevin Wikse

Rediscovering the Mystical: 

Kevin Wikse Unveils the Essential Teachings of L.W. De Laurence

In a time when the true essence of occult knowledge is often obscured, Kevin Wikse’s groundbreaking new book stands as a beacon of enlightenment. Delve into the profound contributions of L.W. De Laurence, whose pioneering work in Psychism, Spirituality, and the Occult laid the foundation for human potential and spiritual evolution.

Unlocking Human Potential: Wikse meticulously revises and reinterprets De Laurence’s teachings, which are pivotal for awakening our dormant capabilities. The book emphasizes the importance of intuitive skills such as ESP, Lucid Dreaming, and Astral Projection. These practices are not just tools for personal growth but are essential steps towards achieving enlightenment and unity with the divine.

A Call to Spiritual Awakening: As modern occultism suffers from fragmented and corrupted transmissions, this book laments the loss of pure and authentic teachings. Wikse's work aims to strip away the divisive and misleading content that has tainted De Laurence’s legacy, offering a clear and accessible guide for contemporary seekers.

Resisting Global Tyranny: In an era threatened by global tyranny and dictatorship, Wikse presents a compelling case for the need to sharpen our spiritual and intuitive faculties. This spiritual awakening is portrayed as a crucial defense against the forces that seek to control and oppress.

Guidance from a Master: Kevin Wikse, a master occultist and psychoenergetics expert, dedicates himself to making De Laurence’s complex teachings understandable and inspiring for modern adepts. His comprehensive revision is designed to empower individuals, guiding them on a transformative journey towards spiritual empowerment and enlightenment.

Inspiring the Modern Seeker: This book is more than a reinterpretation; it’s an invitation to rediscover the profound wisdom that can elevate the human soul. Wikse’s eloquent prose and insightful commentary breathe new life into De Laurence’s work, ensuring that its timeless message resonates with today’s readers.

Join Kevin Wikse on this transformative journey. Rediscover the mystical teachings of L.W. De Laurence and unlock the full potential of your soul.

$10 on Lulu: LINK

For more information, visit Kevin Wikse’s official website and join the community of enlightened seekers.

Saturday, January 13, 2024

Who or What killed Christopher Alan Whiteley by Kevin Wikse.

 


Kevin Wikse Christopher Alan Whiteley

1/11/24 *I am the first to suggest a Jaguar as a potential killer of Christopher Alan Whiteley. I want to state this upfront as the typical internet podcaster or blogger tends to give little to no credit or explain where their ideas stem from. Popularity, "likes, and subscribes" are their only real motivation. My reasoning for a Jaguar will make sense, and I want to honor where my idea came from as it has genuine real-world implications. 


I've found an interesting parallel between a man named Christopher Alan Whiteley and a topic I posted an article on in 2017 or maybe 2018, and in doing so, I became a principal and often cited contributor to the narrative known as the "Dog Woman of Watts." I raised some eyebrows when I speculated that perhaps the Dog Woman of Watts was potentially an agent of retribution. I conducted a phone interview with a man named Clifton. He was an eyewitness to the Dog Woman and shared proximity to the rumors that circulated in the aftermath. Namely, that Dog Woman of Watts had interacted with a notorious local Pimp before his death. 


This Pimp was known for his violence and callousness. Clifton said the Pimp disfigured women's faces and body parts, carving and slicing his name or derogatory slurs into their skin. He'd mark these women as his "property," making them feel that no other man would want them. According to Clifton, rumor had it that the Dog Woman had spoken to that Pimp. What was said? I don't know, and neither did Clifton. The rumors Clifton heard state that the Dog Woman approached the Pimp on the street, words were exchanged between the two, and the Pimp ran. He was found dead a day or two later in his house. 


Dead from what? I don't know. "Found dead" is all I know. Other than this instance, my research has not found any other injuries or property damage surrounding the Dog Woman of Watts. 


As I stated in my investigative piece about the Dog Woman of Watts, I am an initiate of an Afro-Cuban spiritual tradition, Palo Mayombe, and the New World Afro-Caribbean religion of Voudo, all three threads of it, Haitian, Dominican, and Puerto-Rican. Acts or arts of Vampirism and Lycanthropy, also known as skin leaping, while not regularly spoken of, occupy a darker space on the outskirts of each tradition's framework.


Vampirism and Lycanthropy are focal points of what is often blanketly termed "Bizango," or spiritual regiments both criminal and extreme. Within Bizango societies, acts such as vampirism or shape shifting (Lycanthropy, Skin Leaping, or Skin Walking) into animals to attack or eat people are established practices. How does that work, or what does that look like exactly? I can't tell you.


However, from what I know, what I have been told, and pictures I have been shown of these practices and individuals believed to be victims of these types of attacks, what happened to Christopher Alan Whiteley looks and sounds similar to what supposedly happened in Watts and what is said to take place in Haiti and the Dominican Republic. 


I won't pretend to know Christopher Alan Whiteley. He certainly had the lion's share of legal troubles from what has been written about him. But, by all accounts, he was turning his life around. Christopher was finding success and going places. 


I need to make it crystal clear that I do not place Christopher Alan Whiteley in the same category as the Pimp in Watts. Both men committed wrongdoing and evil deeds. But I feel strongly that Christopher Alan Whiteley had not sunk into the level of depravity the Pimp from Watts had. From my narrowed speculative perception of who or what the Dog Woman of Watts was, the supernatural and paranormal elements suggest an entity of retribution or an entity attracted to individuals with troubled circumstances.


Texas is not Haiti. I don't propose a Bizango sect operates in or near Lipan, Texas. However, Texas is home to a vast tribal history, rich with its tradition of metaphysical practices, some of it on par with the darker "horror movie" aspects of the Bizango. From 2017 to 2023, I spent considerable time in Colorado, New Mexico, Texas, and Arizona, immersing myself in the Curanderismo, Diabolism, and Brujeria—all spiritual traditions deeply rooted in the local native cultures that took on obvious Spanish/European influences.


Skin-walker is now a well-known but vastly misunderstood phenomenon told from the lens of the Hopi, Navajo, and Zuni native cultural perspectives. In Cortez, Colorado, I met a medicine man who was a keeper of a Crystal Skull he claimed was cast by the ancient Inca. He enlisted the protection of another very different medicine man. This man stated that he was an actual Skin Walker. To join the Skin Walker Lodge, he told me he sacrificed his firstborn son, engaged in cannibalism with the other members, consumed his baby alongside them, and then tested out his powers by transforming into an "evil dog" and murdering his baby's mother. He also claimed to be a hitman for native "mafias" and tribal governments. 


I don't know if there was any truth to what he said or if he just meant to try and scare me. But I can say that he possessed a metaphysical understanding concerning skin-leaping or Lycanthropy, which translated to nearly the same barred secrets kept by Bizango sects. Secrets as such are in no book. They are not found through a Google search. He was just as surprised about my knowledge of Lycanthropy as I was about his. There was an air of legitimacy that surrounded him that much can be said. 


It is somewhat common knowledge the CIA funded fringe and paranormal research projects. The more base and dim-witted Americans would believe that the CIA discontinued their study and didn't simply rename specific projects and hire outside private research groups (owned by and staffed with CIA operatives). I encountered representatives of a few of these research groups who, for unspecified reasons but in my educated opinion, I'd guess for military applications, sought to enlist me for consultation purposes. Skin Walkers were of particular interest to them. 


The location of Skin-Walker Ranch, I would suggest, is little more than a black-budget research facility, and any tourism or reality TV shows associated with the area are cleverly scripted PR smokescreens with the benefit of financial gain. 


Why bring any of this up in relation to the murder of Christopher Alan Whiteley? I wanted to lay a framework for my more "fringe" speculations. 


But first, from a more empirical standpoint, Christopher Alan Whiteley likely could have been killed by a large cat—a cougar or mountain lion. The problem is that the wounds left by the assailant are too large to be from a cougar, the attack came from the front, and not the back, mountain lion tracks are absent, and there are zero reported sights of cougars in Hood County, Texas. 


I suggest another potential feline culprit. 


2017, I was recruited to observe the El Paso, TX /Juarez, Mexico border. I have seen with my own eyes the legions of migrants who have come through the TX, NM, and AZ border crossings, and that was before the Biden Administration ended Title 42. A fair number of migrants had trekked thousands of miles north, up through South. America. They would tell me about the Hungry Ghosts that stalked them through the swaths of jungles and forests. Hungry Ghosts gaining a taste for human flesh. 


The Jaguar. 


Jaguars have larger and more powerful jaws and are significantly bigger and stronger than the North American cougar. They do not tend to leave as many signs of predation behind as they can kill bigger prey quicker than the cougar. Christopher Alan Whiteley's body was dragged or potentially (accidentally) dropped from above into a dense thicket (Jaguars can haul big kills up into trees like Leopards) for later feeding. 


I believe it is possible a Jaguar who hunted humans as they migrated North from South America, now with a taste for human flesh, crossed into Lipan, Texas, and killed Christopher Alan Whiteley.


Texas and Arizona seem to have a politically motivated interest in downplaying reports, sightings, and documented evidence of Jaguars and Panthers. This vested interest might be why the Tarrant County Medical Examiners. were so eager to wash Christopher Alan Whiteley's body, eliminating the chances of using DNA to identify Christopher Alan Whiteley's killer. 


Circling back to my more "fringe" hypothesis, I find some, albeit slightly stretched, parallels between Christopher Alan Whiteley and the Pimp from Watts. If there were injuries on the Pimp's body, I don't know about them or what they were. I was told he was found dead and "soon" after his encounter where he and the Dog Woman exchanged words. Christopher Alan Whiteley was the target of a frontal assault. It is speculated Christopher Alan Whiteley was aware that he was about to be in a fight because his shirt was removed before the attack. He might have even known his attacker, but that is pure speculation. 


No animal tracks were found anywhere near his body or where it is believed the initial conflict took place. There were shoe prints, though. There are no animal tracks, but his injuries are well within the realm of animalistic—claw marks on his upper body and his throat/ jugular, ripped, bitten open, and crushed between the jaws of a sharp, large-toothed creature. This rules out Sasquatch or Dogmen, as they are always in animal/beast form and would leave animal tracks. 


I am reminded of the self-professed Skin Walker I met in Cortez, Colorado, who also claimed to be a hitman for native criminal syndicates and Tribal Governments. 


Christopher Alan Whiteley had been in and out of correctional facilities for a significant portion of his life. In addition, he was reported to have been abusive toward women. Did he draw the ire of a native gang or the parents of a girl he abused? Did someone pay an individual like the self-professed Skin Walker in Cortez, Colorado, to kill Christopher Alan Whiteley? 


In the same vein, if the rumors about the Pimp in Watts are true, and the Dog Woman of Watts was some avenging entity or Skin Walker equivalent who, for whatever reason, made a public display of its hybrid form, why? Was it to send a message? She didn't physically attack the Pimp, as something physically attacked Christopher Alan Whiteley. Did the Pimp die of fright? Poisoned? Other supernatural means?


Might Christopher Alan Whiteley have been an opportunity-killing? An initiate Skin Walker looking to test their new power, just as the above-mentioned Skin Walker claims he did by transforming into an "evil dog" and killing the mother of his sacrificed son?


If the research of the CIA or some other Defense Contractor group, be it DARPA or Lockheed, etc, finally yielded fruit and unlocked the power of Lycanthropy, it's no stretch of the imagination to suggest field testing its military capabilities in real-world situations against, in their view, disposable people, having a supply of scared, confused and desperate migrants to hunt would be an ideal situation. 


Hell, you don't know where over 85,000 missing migrant children are here in the US, so what are a couple hundred or so dead migrants in the jungles, forests, or deserts of Mexico? Maybe one of their militarized Skin Walkers moved up on Christopher Alan Whiteley. 


Since we are already down this peculiar rabbit hole of high strangeness, it occurs to me that Christopher Alan Whiteley's death could have come from a source similar to the Anyoto or Leopard-Men Society of the Congolese. The Anyoto made up a brotherhood, a witch-doctor warrior elite who dressed in the skins of Leopard, were believed to transform into Leopards, and had their secret system of martial arts, employing weapons made from or to greatly resemble Leopard claws. 


In this postulation, not only do we have the potential for yet another Skin Walker situation, with a maybe a Jaguar Man who came up through the border from Mexico and South America. The Aztecs had their order of Jaguar Knights. A secret cult or society of Jaguar Knights or warriors, legitimately connected or at least claiming lineage to the original Jaguar Knights, fits nicely with most other modern-day secret societies. There wouldn't even need to be a supernatural element here, but a human who attacked and killed Christopher Alan Whiteley using weapons made from Jaguar teeth and claws, or so resemble them, that telling the difference is very difficult as in the case with the Leopard Men of Congolese. 


I have difficulty believing that someone did not take a DNA sample from Christopher Alan Whiteley's injuries. However, I have no problems thinking that the results of that DNA test came back as Jaguar or human or there was no DNA because Christopher Alan Whiteley was attacked with a weapon. All three findings would be highly problematic for Law Enforcement, as they all serve to highlight the border crisis eventually. It would be much easier to rule his death as "accidental due to injuries sustained by an animal attack." 


There does seem to be a bizarre set of circumstances surrounding Christopher Alan Whiteley's murder, as well as a noticeable rush to a "mostly plausible" conclusion and pushing this case as deep down the memory hole as fast as possible. I am obviously of the opinion that there remains much to unpack regarding Christopher Alan Whiteley's death. I am open to further speculation, and should something more arise or be uncovered, I'll likely be covering it. 


-Kevin Wikse

Kevin Wikse is back on TUMBLR!

  I return to TUMBLR!  Kevin Wikse (tumblr.com) @kevinwikse  I am b ack on Tumblr, baby!!! And it feels like stepping into the gender-confus...