cremaRelated: grove CreamationOfCare.com JonesReport.com/articles/270607_cremation_of_care.html Portland.IndyMedia.org/en/2002/11/35127.shtml "' The Bohemian Club was founded in 1872 by artists and journalists in the San Francisco Bay Area. The annual summer camp is held at "Bohemian Grove", a secluded campground in California's Sonoma County, near the town of Monte Rio. This is the location of an annual gathering of the elite during midsummer. Speeches are given, also known as the "Lakeside Talks". An occult celebration takes place that is referred to as the "Cremation of Care". This is the transcript of this occult ceremony from the video "Dark Secrets Inside Bohemian Grove" shot by Alex Jones. The Owl is in His leafy temple Let all within the grove be reverent before Him. Lift up your heads oh ye trees And be lifted up ye everlasting spires For behold here is Bohemia's shrine And holy are the pillars of this house. Weaving spiders come not here! Hail, Bohemians! With the ripple of waters The song of birds Such music as inspires the sinking soul Do we invite you into Midsummer's joy. The sky above is blue and sown with stars The forest floor is heaped with fragrant grit The evening's cool kiss is yours The campfire's glow The birth of rosy fingered dawn. For behold, here is Bohemia's shrine And holy are the pillars of his house Shake off your sorrows with the city's dust And cast to the winds the cares of life. But memories bring back the well-loved names of gallant friends Who knew and loved this grove Dear boom companions of a long ago Aye, let them join us in this ritual! And not a piece be empty in our midst. All of these battles to hold In this gray autumn of the world Or in the springtime of your heart. Attend our tale Gather ye forest folks! And cast your spells over these mortals Touch their world-blind eyes with carry-on Open their eyes to fancy Follow the memories of yesterday And seal the gates of sorrow. It is a dream And yet, not all a dream Dull Care in all of his works Harbored it As vanished Babylon and goodly Tyre So shall they also vanish But the wilding rose blows on the broken battlements of Tyre And moss rends the stones of Babylon For beauty is eternal And we bow to beauty everlasting For lasting happiness we turn our eyes to one alone, And she surrounds you now. Great nature, refuge of the weary heart, And only balm to breasts that have been bruised. She hath cool hands for every fevered brow And gentlest silence for the troubled soul. Her councils are most wise She healeth well Having such ministries as calm and sleep She is ever faithful Other friends may fail But seek ye her in any quiet place Smiling, she will rise and give to you her kiss So must ye come as children Little children that believe do not ever doubt her beauty or her faith Nor deem her tenderness can change or die Bohemians and priests! The desperate call of heavy hearts is answered. By the power of your fellowship, Dull Care is slain His body has been brought yonder to our funeral pyre To the joyous singings of a funeral march; Our funeral pyre awaits the corpse of Care O thou, thus ferried across the shadowy tide In all the ancient majesty of death Dull Care, ardent enemy of beauty Not for thee the forgiveness or the restful grave Fire shall have its will of thee And all the winds make merry with thy dust Bring fire! Fools! Fools! Fools! When will ye learn That me ye cannot slay? Year after year ye burn me in this grove Lifting your puny shouts of triumph to the stars. When again you turn your faces to the marketplace Do you not find me waiting as of old? Fools! Fools! Fools to dream you conquer care. Say Thou mocking spirit! It is not all a dream We know thou waiting for us When this out sylvan holiday has ended We shall meet thee and fight thee as of old And some of us prevail against thee And some thou shall destroy But this too we know Year after year within this happy grove Our fellowship bans thee for a space Thine malevolence which would pursue us here Has lost its power under these friendly trees. So shall we burn thee once again this night And, with the flames that eat thine effigy We shall read the sign Midsummer sets us free! Ye shall burn me once again! Not with these flames! Which hither ye have brought From regions where I reign Ye fools and priests I spit upon your fire! O Owl! Prince of all mortal wisdom Owl of Bohemia, we beseech thee Grant us thy council No fire… No fire… No fire… Let it be in the world Where care is nourished On the hates of men And drive Him from this grove. One flame alone must light this fire One flame alone must light this fire A pure eternal flame At last, within the lamp of Fellowship Upon the altar of Bohemia. O Great Owl of Bohemia! We thank thee for thy adjuration. Begone detested care! Begone! Once more, we banish thee! Begone Dull Care! Fire should have its will of thee! Begone Dull Care! And all the winds make merry with thy dust Hail, fellowship's eternal flame! Once again Midsummer sets us free! '"