Sons of Ram

 

Ram the Great lived as long as two thousand years or more. It is the lifespan of the immortals who have made us some eons ago. He is known by countless names, Ramos, Rama, Lama, Ra, Dionysus, Baal, Bel, Belenos, Ulysses, Mars, and dozens of others, across centuries and countries. Every part of the globe received him, honored him, recognized him as Lord –many still adore him 4 milleniums after his death.

Prince Charming is the nickname he received in India, where he matured. Born seducer, attentive, caring, gentle and virile, kind and powerful, Rama the Great had everything to please. Even today, every dreamy young girl who waits for her prince charming invokes without knowing it the great Rama, the emperor of the world before. For the Celtic druids it was called Ramos. This is the sacred name the bard gave him during his Druidic baptism. For the terraforming gods, his peers in space, he was and still is Aries of Hyperborea.

Ram had many children, especially girls. Considering his lifespan and the number of his feminine conquests, he had hundreds, even thousands of children. Many lines in all countries can still claim his glorious paternity. But the thread of their genealogies has been lost for millennia. Only the Akashic records have preserved his long lost memory.

Hiram and the Phoenix

He recognized only three sons. One of them is the charismatic leader of Phenicia, Hiram. He is mentionned in the Bible, one of the first king of Tire and friend of Solomon, who lived in the 10th century BC, and has been according to akashic source, the real founder of the city of Tire. Hiram laid out its sacred plans. His lfie was quite long, so was his reign and influence. Hiram was a patriarch, and as we know the lifespan of the patriarchs approached the millennium – in the case of Methuselah – and sometimes exceeded it – in the case of Enoch. The former gods before, our creators, lived at least two thousand years. Since they created us about 35000 years ago, they are all long dead. But their heirs are very much alive, bet that they are watching over their inheritance.

Grand master of the temple of Melqart, founder and king of Tyr-Saïda, chief engineer, electronics engineer, mechanic, geneticist, urbatectthanks to Peeters and Schuiten, i.e. urban planner, Hiram the Great made early Phenicia know an age of gold which allowed the influence of the maritime, commercial and inventive genius of the Phoenicians who pushed their explorations very far from the Mediterranean sea, up to the Far East and Americas — if not the Far West. For these lands devastated by nuclear conflict, this rebirth was so unexpected that it earned this new name, Phenicia, which comes from Phoenix, the magical bird that rises from its ashes.

I have been told these things a hundred times, when I was little I couldn’t believe it. I never believed it. For me phoenix was quite another thing. Not a bird, but a flying machine. The fire of the phoenix is ​​that of the reactor. And Phenicia is so called because it housed the main spaceport of terraformers, Baalbek. Night and day in Baalbek, it was the incessant ballet of space-jets, the din of reactors, the fire escaping from the nozzles. Endlessly, the phoenixes linked the earth to the sky; that is to say Baalbek to Hyperborea.

For primitive populations, it was magic. They always saw the same bird of fire disappear in the flames in the sky, and return each time pursued by the same flames. The Phoenix is ​​therefore a bird that must be consumed in flames to be reborn from its ashes. Behind the naivety of the testimony, a completely different reality gradually emerges.

The spaceport, strategic link with Hyperborea, palace of the gods, temple of peace, to which were invited only triumphant elected representatives among men, splendors fulfilled among women. A massive intrusion of rude and ill-intentioned humans had to be avoided at all costs. This spaceport needed a trusted master. Heavy responsibility, guardian of the gate of the gods. In this role, a beloved child of Hyperborea was needed. Hiram was the son of Ram, the best of gods. Suffice to say the super gratin. His reign lasted eight hundred years, the Akasha told me. Believe without believing it.

His life and his work are beautiful legends, quite worthy of reading. I’ll tell you about them when I get back there. Patience and lenght of time is better that strength and rage, La Fontaine said. Take his word.

 

 

Ousir the Favorite Son

The bestlove son of Rama is undoubtedly Ousir, who is also written Ouizir among the Arabs, Osiris among the Greeks, Ramses among the Egyptians, Azor among the Persians. He is black as the moonless night, a star in the back of his eyes. His skin is so black that it looks blue. Ouzir belongs to the noblest of human lineage, that which comes from the Black Dragons, the vulture snakes of the Babylonians. His great nobility and intelligence made him the natural emperor of the black people. He brought the countless tribes together. The first, Osiris has pacified the ancient conquerors to unite them in a proud people with a thousand heads, where each one is respectful of the customs of his brothers.

Osiris ruled for five hundred years according to Akashic memories, but everything has been erased. Believe without believing it, once again. The events of his reign were obscured by racist and racialist scribes. His portrait as a Sphinx at Giza suffered the same fate of oblivion. His nose was grounded. Yes, the mutilated face of the Sphinx is that of the true builder of the pyramids which do not owe much to the three usurpers Khéops, Képhren and Mikérinos, authors of simple works of repair of the existing works. The builder of these three works, you understood it, is Ousir, Osiris the black Sphinx, whose nose was knowingly destroyed, too Negroid to please the new masters.

We enter directly into the main conflict of the reign of Ousir: the growing rivalry between the new Celts –white skinned– and the ancient Celts –black skinned— old masters of the planet, violently contested by the Neo Celts. Fabre d’Olivet called the Black Celts Sudeans, and the White Celts Boreans.

Egypt, mother of civilizations, was born from the ancient supremacy of the Sudeans, who then civilized and pacified most of the planet. A strong administrator was needed to cement the often weakened ties between the different tribes. To continue the work of Rama – Ra in Egypt – his son Osiris was the best choice. He managed to maintain the peace, without however being able to avoid a dislocation of several territories under his jurisdiction. The East took a divergent path that ended badly for the Sudeans, pushed further south.

It was then that they tried to regain autonomy and dignity by occupying the islands and atolls of the Pacific. For other parts of the world, unity remained long after the death of Osiris, assassinated by his brother Seth or Sathor. Osiris whose story I will have to tell you one day. I just set the scene. I will come back, I promise again.

A jealous god

I want to tell you about his only son admitted, recognized, dubbed by Lord Rama himself. His name is Abram, which means Son of Ram, literally: Who is from Ram. We couldn’t be clearer. This one was the darling of his dad who made no secret of it and wanted the whole world to know about it. But precisely, in the eyes of the local master, Ram’s rival, this Abram lineage was unbearable. This local potentate was an army corps general. He was in command of six legions of angels, which gave him some weight. He also possessed a murderous arsenal which he never hesitated to make use of. The ambitious warlord could not bear to hear “son of Ram” any time the patriarch of Ur was named in Chaldea. The general decides to change Abram’s name. You will be Abraham, he told him. I have already recounted this scene, a vision during a time travel.

Well. Going from the status of son of Ram to that of son of Rahan, heroes of the savage ages, is a shock. Yet Abram took it well. This man is not looking for trouble. He wants peace at home, prosperity for his clan, respect for his people, fear of enemies, as few enemies as possible, no enemies at all if possible. The general wants to change his name, very good, great deal! If peace and quiet come at this price, Abraham pays cash. Very very happy.

Who is this general I just mentioned? The god of the Bible. One of the unique gods, I specify. Jehovah? Adonai? Elijah of the Elohim gang? Let us call him Yahveh since that is also his name. A rebel, ready to betray Emperor Rama to usurp the earthly throne. An upstart, ready to break up if he does not obtain the crown of Rama. The latter is very far, in China or America. Yahveh therefore has free rein. He strives by all means to reduce the spiritual influence of Rama, here called Baal the Aries, on the populations of simple and generous people.

Everything Yahveh hates. He strictly forbade his chosen people, a handful of lousy Bedouins, from worshiping any god other than himself. And especially not this stupid Aries, nor this golden calf of Thor son of Taurus. Among all the unique gods who roam the planet, there is only him, the 2-star General Yahveh of Hyperborea, commander-in-chief of 666 legions of angels, who deserves to be worshiped face down. And he imposes obedience or death on his people.

If you care about your miserable life,” he told them, “you won’t worship any of the horned gods.” Pardon? The horned gods were the bosses, weren’t they? He pushes his people to disobey the rulers! He sends his people into slavery! And it did not fail, the Hebrews were caught and jailed in re-education camp. The Bible mention this as the Exile in Babylon. Yahveh chuckles, proud of himself. This guy is a sadist. A wolf for man. A jealous god.

The Bible does not miss an opportunity to remind us of this, tracing the portrait of a selfish, irascible, resentful, inflexible, pretentious, boastful, proud, in short afflicted by all the faults that one finds in his friends the famous gods of the Greek mythology. No doubt, they belong to the same gang. Zeus has formidable weapons, so does Yahveh. His angels of war and his weapons of mass destruction give him the status of Almighty. The Nazis also had high-sounding ranks, Sturmbannführer, Obersturmführer. Guides in the storm … In this case no nazi involved. The storm was launched and maintained by General Yahveh.

 

 

Abraham’s sacrifice

I have told the story of Abram before, from a vision I had during my time travels. It is the timeline that gives me the best part of my tales. I have revisited this vision several times over the past 7 years. I think I understood its true meaning. I concluded at the time that Yahveh and Ram were one. But this hazardous identity bothered me. Itchy. In the Bible, Yahveh does not stop vituperating his great rival Baal and conquering his worshipers. Between unique gods, we are rather jealous.

Baal is Bel for the Gauls, the good old horned Belénos, the Ram of Hyperborea. And Aries is Ram. The big boss, the emperor of the world, the protected peacemaker of Hyperborea, is Rama, not Yahveh. It all matured and slowly got back in order in my head and in my body. And this is the second version of Abraham’s sacrifice. Yahveh is a prudent god, he knows he is in danger because he is plotting against the god of gods, Rama, the Zeus of the time. Abram is the direct heir but he swore to Rama his father that he would never follow in his footsteps and remain a simple patriarch, surrounded by his clan and his flocks, in the first city of men, Ur in Chaldea.

Yahveh wants to believe it. Abram is a slack. He lacks ambition. Sometimes it skips a generation. Okay, but Isaac? Abram has an only son, he rowed to have it, this son could well tomorrow dethrone Yahveh the usurper and who knows? make him hide. Yahveh flips. We remember how Chronos screwed up his sons, Zeus could have gone through without an intervention from Gé Gaïa who had him reared in secret by the goat Amalthée. A nurse goat? How to be surprised that Zeus is mounted like a goat.

Zeus the Billy-Goat has become the devil of Christians, while his nametheos = zeus = god means God for the same Christians. Oh the jumbled up puzzle-style macedonian salad scramble! To find your way around, you need to travel there! I heat up my timeline. In short Yahveh God asks Abram to sacrifice Isaac his only son to Him, the Almighty Yahveh general of the army.

And the worst part is that the coward accepts. His own son! Tranquillos, he takes his kid under his arm, takes his sword and his cutlass, towards the great dolmen, the black stone of sacrifices. He is going to wander his offspring when a war angel gives him an arm lock. The sword falls to the ground, narrowly missing the foot of the angel who leaps back: Name of god !! cried the angel. Voice over: -WHAT god are you talking about ???

Instead of the kid, the angel slides an animal on the black rock. Not just any animal. A black ram. Like Osiris. The kid is doing well, thanks for him. None of this ceremonial is innocent. Every detail is a slap in the face of Abraham. Remember. When he was still only a young man, Ramos the Celtic druid had stood up to the College of Druidesses which ruled the Celtie. This disagreement had forced him to leave Celtic lands and walk east, followed by his followers and those of his clan, that of Aries.

The Druidesses had continued to rule Celtie with an iron fist, with the execrable ritual of human sacrifices carried out in great numbers. Ramos has always opposed it. In the new world order that he imposed on earth, all blood sacrifices were prohibited, whether of human beings or of animals. The gods, he said, do not tolerate waste. They do not feed on the smoke of sacrifice, neither do your people. These sacrifices increase your debts and enrich your unworthy priestesses.

For Abram, a good son but so cowardly, the joy of sparing his son was immediately tarnished by the shame of disobeying his father by making a sacrifice, and worse still, of denying Rama by sacrificing his sacred animal. A magnificent ram nobly horned. Black moreover. Black as night, black as ebony. Yahveh has stolen your name from you, he tramples on your honor, he defiles your filial piety.

It is an iniquitous god that one should say. We search in vain for the god of love in this tsunami of hatred from the lower astral and a frustrated ego. We have the unique gods we deserve.

Sad kali yuga which draws to its end and which never ceases to finish and which rolls us in the flour and which makes procession with the liars and which celebrates the thieves and which elects the criminals and which condemns the marginalized. All values are reversed. Wake up. We can’t wait for this Force society to fall into the Hanged Man!

 

Innumerable are our ways and our homes are uncertain.
Saint-John Perse