MONOPOLY OVER THE JESUS TURF – THE EMPIRE CHURCH AND THE 10TH LEGION OF ROME

CHRIST’S EARLIEST TEACHING EMPHASIZED “KNOWING.” THE EMPIRE CHURCH’S ATTEMPTED ANNIHILATION

      

        If the crucifixion was in 65 B.C., as seems likely,

then there is no point in arguing about the so-called

 “historical” facts. Because all the facts are wrong.

        The  WORDS that have come down to us are 

more reliable. But not the words of the Empire Church,

which created a marketable G.I. Joe type saviour who did

 multiple miracles.

..     Why did they do this?



They did it because then it is easy to create a CHRIST 

MONOPOLY. And they created a Christ monopoly. 



If the teacher is a Superman, he becomes property of the 


marketing agent. He becomes a saleable item.


             There is big money in a monopolized Christ.


You can’t sell indulgences, you can’t sell forgiveness,

unless you have a monopoly.So the Empire Church

gained a monopoly over the Christ turf, because no one

had the power to argue with the narrow doctrine. Because 

everybody who argued in the early days, they became dead.

And the church started to SELL FORGIVENESS.

              
             Besides, no one could read in the middle ages except the

priests. So the monopoly was everywhere; the monopoly was

complete.

              The early Christians who emphasized KNOWING,

they were put to the sword, or burned alive, or exiled. Just

as their libraries and monasteries were burned – and all their 

texts and earliest writings were burned.


              By the time of the Council of Nicea, Empire Church

doctrine was set. The allowable books were kept, everything else 

was so-called heresy. By then, when the church had unified with

the might of Rome, the earliest materials (the Gnostic Gospels =

the earliest Christian Gospels) were destroyed.

              This is why the existence of the texts discovered in an 

urn in a cave in Egypt, and their existence into the present day,

this is nothing short  of a miracle!


               Does my teaching seem radical to you?


                Remember this:  Christ’s teachings were

radical and they are still radical today.

                 
                 
                I have been cursed by priests. I have been

told I am going to hell. And when they started to

curse me in Latin, then I knew I was getting

somewhere.








                 The earliest texts teach the exact opposite

of Empire Church doctrine.


                                           *


But the earliest texts teach the exact opposite.
 
 
 
 
         The earliest teachings teach that 
 


the purpose is to  become One with 
 


Christ, One with the Mind of God.
Christ hopes that you will seek Him out,
by looking within yourself and delving deeply.
 


        This is what Christ was/is 
 


saying:  “Become One with me. Then 
 


you shall know what I know.
Know yourself and you will see me.
Know yourself and you will know me.”
 
 
        

             “He shall be as I am and I shall be he,
 
and the hidden things will be revealed to him”
 
Gospel of Thomas.
 
 
         
       If you commune with the Mind 
 



of Christ, then you will know he 




is God.  For only the Mind of God 




is the Eternal Mind.
 



          This is what we seek – the 
 



meaning of eternal life. This is 
 



Paradise – the Knowledge of eternal 
 



life.
 
           
                This Knowledge is the 
 



culmination of the Grail Quest and the
 



Gnostic journey.
 
 
 
            What’s the point in going on a 
 


quest if what you find is only mundane
 


knowledge?














(C) 2018 by W.G. Milne
 
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SCORES OF LIZARDS THRU MY MOTEL BRAIN – song lyrics

REPTILIAN

 

SCORES OF LIZARDS THRU MY MOTEL BRAIN – song lyrics

REPTILIAN

white light thru the door at Spiro’s Cafe
white white white hot sun at the heart              of the day
Black Beauty’s coming soon
Delivery’s at noon
In the junkyard underneath the floor

                                  *

SCORES OF LIZARDS THRU MY MOTEL 
        BRAIN
First a throb of love, then a lash of pain
Plastic yellow roses someone’s glued to              the wall
Next to a picture of me
Doesn’t look like me at all

                               *

Cigar and brandy and me and Old Nick
Poster of a stripper from last year
There’s a crack in the wall and something
        comes thru it
What it is I can’t exactly tell.

                              *

No sleep for a week, it’s clear as a                        crystal bell,
Been in the desert now for 40 days…
I walked 100 miles from jail, I haven’t
        found my thrill,
With the little people sneaking thru my            keyhole once again.

                                *

Roxy’s at the corner trying to get some            cash,
There’s a gold stamp on it from across            the sea,
Can’t seem to find that last kilo flat of              hash –
Can’t wait to mix it, smoke it up with                some of these!

                                   *







This is a song from my nitty-gritty drug days. I haven’t recorded it yet, tho I know all the chords. So let’s see!



(C)2008-2018 by W.G. Milne (JOHNNY ROCK AND THE ANGELS) 

I’LL WRITE YOU A PRESCRIPTION, I’LL WRITE IT WITH HONEY AND BLOOD

PRESCRIPTION

 

I’ll write you a prescription;

I’ll write it with honey and blood;

With scraps of newspapers, spring                       waters

Evergreen berries and mud.

With stars that shine so brightly

On the brilliant axel tree,

Tree on which the world turns,

Leaving you and me to stare

Across the waters by the moon.

*

 To wonder about the promises

We made, or why the time came

So late or so soon.

And wonder where the

Many-coloured river of lights leads us,

Day to day. And why it didn’t turn out

Another way.

*

We are here now with the lights flashing

And the silence of the sea, ships’                           passing.

Go ahead, laugh! the wild gull of                          freedom

Waits, and screams his half-mad

Wisdom scream.

*

And what do I have but words

To reach you across the distances?

I have my kiss,

I have a flood of freshwater tears.

All the stories have been told.

I will not tell you a story.

*

I will mix you a melody, with a

Thousand ingredients. A melody

Is where it is, it never leads somewhere.

It is either enough or it is nothing.

A melody, it is the stuff of paradise

And dreams; it is the stuff of an empty,

Filthy alley, with cyanide queens

And the growl of hyenas.

*

The glowing panther eyes become

The flowing semen of the mainstream.

With its eternal ways and means,

Mainstreet. The monkeys laugh!

The impotent bones crack.

All that was proud pounds between

The sidewalk cracks. The wind hits

Like a hammer, the last of winter

Blows.

I wait now now while the spring melts

Into the morningglow.

*

And I write you this prescription

From my heart and soul. God knows

It might be all I can give to you that

Grows.

*

I wait here in the wildwind and the

Alleyfilth, while the rats bloat,

While the whirlwind turns a

Galaxy of worlds. While the gull

Flies through a new dawn,

And I discard my old clothes.

I wait while the old winter dies

And spring blows.

* * * * * * *

(C)1979-2018 W.G.Milne

I WAS ASLEEP. NOW I AM AWAKE.

           It would be easy to go to sleep again. The world is so very peaceful.

But this is not my purpose.

           We have seen some very fine teachers. But they all are dead or in prison. I was in prison for a considerable time…but prison was very

kind to me. I spent ninety days naked in the dark in a cell. And this rescued me.

           What are you going to do?  You can only play with your body parts so many times. You have one choice – die or meditate.

           I’m told people in Tibet would pay to be locked up in a cave, a wall was built behind them. One meal is delivered each day. There are no distractions whatsoever.

          Well, I was locked up for free. But there was no T.V. No music. Not even a pencil. I learned how to draw on the walls, using an ashtray. Though there were no cigarettes and there was no way they were going to give me matches.

          No, we are living in the so-called normal world and distractions are everywhere. Satisfaction is rare, but there are all kinds of things to occupy

our minds. So very little Mind work is done. There are so many more pleasant things to do.

          Though if you pursue the superficial, you are lost at that level.

We are lost at that level though we have a treasure-house within us. We have the ability to become luminous beings, but we ignore our deeper abilities.

         I like to put it this way:  space is not the final frontier, nor is the ocean. Our human Mind is the final frontier, and let’s never forget this. There are vast regions within that we have yet to discover.

          We don’t even have a map of this magnificent country within us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(C)2018 by W.G. Milne

NORTHERN TOWN STARRY NIGHT- SATUDAY NIGHT

A PAINTING I did of Mainstreet of this Northern Town, North Bay… but also Timmins & also, other northern towns.

On Saturday nights under the stars with 7 draft rooms open, Paradise is not too far away.

Hail to the north! And northern inspiration. The stars are there, too, if you look for them.

 

C 2007-2018  By W.G. Milne

UNDER THE HIGHWAY BRIDGE

Autumn’s yearly brilliance goes

As our loves go so our dreams,

As this river by this beach,

River weeping as it flows

*

As our dreams, so our loves go

Flows the river past this peak

Water’s silent violent speech

So goes our ancient sorrow

*

As our loves go so our dreams

Below the bridge to pass downstream

Must I still remember then

When love has gone and I remain?

*

If love is gone but life remains

And I am left still standing here

And you are now so out of reach

And now I share the river’s tears

*

I cannot stay, I cannot, no!

I cannot keep this love alone!

I see your eyes in the mystery

Coursing slowly past this beach

*

Love runs away like water flows

How swift love flows, how slow life goes

I see your face just one instant, brief!

Your face in waters beyond reach;

*

It’s some mystery I don’t know

As our loves go so our dreams,

You blow a secret kiss to me

Mona Lisa of the stream.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To Appollinaire

(C)2000-2018 by W.G. Milne