War on Marduk


I’m fine. Much better. I went through formed swells, white crests of foam, they were the venom of ancient dragons. I had another stroke, one more. I attract the lightning of the archons, but no question of leaving the friends to fend for themselves or to beat in my place. I answer present and I go for it. Failure is excluded.


Our relentless masters

We are many already. The war is declared, it is raging, I will not shirk. Their leader, Marduk, is the current god of Terra with his companion Mammon, and these two could remain so for a very long time. Marduk has only been there for 40,000 years. His grandfather Anou ruled this planet for 250,000 years. His uncle Enlil, for 200,000 years. The reign of Marduk should therefore last within 150,000 years. If the Reptilians are faithful to the exact sciences, we have not finished pissing.

I am not alone in this war. Far from it. Flying seers are coming from everywhere. Let the fighters go. Over the nights, Marduk looks surprised. Upset. Anger blemished his green lion face. What are we doing in the upper astral? Outrageous intrusion! This area has been his since the dawn of time! Yet here we are. And for a long time.

Anou would be Chronos to the Greeks. Enlil would be Zeus. His brother Ea would be Prometheus. The Sumerians call him Enki, the creator of human lineages. Enki first created an amelu lulu that he found successful. He keeps it close to him, in his domain of the center earth. This first human is called Adapa. The Hebrews say Adama, but they don’t talk about the prototype. The Adam are a whole people: the sons of Adapa who is the first, who was the only, who remains the only. His designer Enki Ea used him to play a trick on Zeus. Sorry, I meant Marduk. But Marduk became Zeus instead of Enlil …

The Attack of the Flying Wolves

Since I studied mythologies, the one that seems to me the clearest now, is the Sumerian — the oldest, the one that served as a model for all the others. An exception, however, and notable: the Gnosis of the first centuries. The Archon version. Creator gods and predatory demons. It looks strangely like us.

A few years ago, I took a group of readers on a three-week astral journey. Every night we sailed on beautiful astral sea. The sky was studded with infinite stars, strewn with rare pearls and precious ornaments. I let go a little, I confess. Each one represents the astral in its own way. There is neither time nor space, everything is played on the feeling. There are memories of a world where we have never lived.

Every night, my astral passengers took place in a virtual bus, e la nave va.and sailed the galley. I quickly realized that the astral heights were accessible to us. I pushed the door of this garden, easy. For years, without knowing why, I avoided going there. I thought I was running away from unpleasant encounters, those creatures that stare at you from an icy altitude and whistle at you.

I thought they were archangels, they were Archons. They rode wild mounts, dragons — when they are not dragons themselves. In flight, these filthy snakes spit fire with diabolical precision. Our masters exploit us unscrupulously, that’s the reason they made us. Over us, they have the right of life and death. We are at their service and for their abuse. Champions when vice’s in question. When I proposed the astral ride to my Flying Wolves, like every year, I was unaware of these sad details. 



Push the Infernals

I protected my tourists by blocking the archons with dirty faces. The biggest took it badly. I hear it roar and I receive a violent shock in the right jugular. One hundred thousand volts wake me up with a start! Two years later, I’m still in pain.

End of combined astral flights. Prudence is the mother of safety. First, secure the course, mark routes, find safe shelters and safe folds. Who can resist the infernal? Tourists? Certainly not.

There must be trained warriors, seasoned witches, bearers of light, women of knowledge. Such is the troupe where I belong. Night combat fills space, betrays time, expands the moment and surpasses us. Our memories move to the surface of heroic dreams, proud charges, astral passengers on their lofty mounts.

The shadow conceals our identities, our faces, our ties. Unknown, we fight together. Soon we will recognize ourselves. I see heavenly knights, noble warriors of high lineage. Superb children of Earth and Heaven, all impaled with ardor in combat. Careful and precise strategists. Mages and fairies without number, eager to fight. Women with rare virtues, pugnacious and stubborn, explosive, glorious.


I’m counting on it, Archon!

These exploits must be told to you. I count on them. Neither vanity nor gloriole: my reward is action. Warrior among the warriors of the world. Carried by their sacred union, I rejoice. In the closet, the relentless archons! Demons far from being incapable! Neither soft, nor fearful, nor submissive, but harder than diamond. They are not afraid of anything, everyone fears them. They rule over the three orders, mineral, plant, animal. Only the kingdom of the spirit escapes them. This is where we are, out of reach. From there, we target them. On their fault, we focus our shots.

Every night that comes scores points. A shudder in their ranks. This fragility surprises me. Besieged, the terrible Marduk is overwhelmed. This is causing havoc in his troops. Reptilian devils old as the world are not used to being resisted. It is finally possible, the true birth of free humans is announced, valiant fighters, more and more numerous to bomb the upper astral, their lair. Tourists abstain! To those of my readers who are attracted to adventure, first test your powers. See tonight if you can rise so high. Then join our ranks.



The hardest battle

You have before you a happy man. At the height of happiness! So I feel empty. Aimless. Except that I have to settle his score at the archon. But everything in its time. why can’t I rejoice in this beautiful victory? Probably the most beautiful of all the ones we don’t forget.

I fought the hardest battle of my life. It’s over, and it’s over. I won the game. An entity had attacked a person dear to me. For five years, I fought against the invisible. I suspected on all sides, I did not understand anything. Not long ago, I saw that this war to the death targeted a single enemy, the archon. He has many names and many faces, each worse than the other. Whatever he does, wherever he is, he is evil in person.

It took me too long to figure out who I was dealing with. That son of a bitch of a head eater clouded my mind. I went into the war to death without really knowing who I was dealing with. These people are the absolute evil. I never thought I could handle it.

First Scuffle

It wasn’t the first time. I once kicked out of a body an evil entity. Twenty years ago, I got mixed up with some kind of archon who had taken possession of an innocent body. Initially, a witch from the tropics had visited me to supposedly receive the initiation to the Little Mysteries—in other words, the arcanum XIII. She had travelled several thousand kilometers to see me, needless to say I received it well. We exchanged dozens of emails before her visit. I thought I knew her well, again, I didn’t understand anything. I foolishly accepted the case of arcane XIII. It was my specialty at the time. Being foolish too.

Very quickly I understand that she does not come for that. The extent and effectiveness of her powers shows it enough, she has been beyond this stage for a long time. So what does she want from me? After three days of repeated failures, I launch a surprise debrief, like a cobblestone in the pond. It all started. Anger took hold of her. “Your arcane XIII, I don’t give a fuck! Stupid kids! That’s not what I expect from you!”



I Speak Elven!?

Okay, so what do you want? By way of answer, she starts speaking in tongues. I recognize several of them in passing, and then here is the elven, true of true, with the sounds that are those of the film The Lord of the Rings. The craziest thing about this is that I understand everything. Even harder, I answer him in that language. There is a dialogue. I’m here for an exorcism, she confesses. I beg your pardon? An exorcism? What do you mean? I don’t do that, I’ve never done before. I’m not a priest or a monk, even though I look like one. I’m not even sure I believe that ritual. Real life is quite far from horror movies. Happily!

My refusal provokes in her a terrible outburst of rage. With her thirty-five kilos, she suddenly passes me with a good head, her build becomes that of a bodybuilder trucker. She starts to scream. Without taking the time to think, I do something that I have never done and will never do again: I slap her with all my strength. Right away I see a monstrous entity running from her tiny body and rushing through the closed window. Exit the demon.

What a flip! I’m shaken. I look at my tropical fairy slumped on the sofa, out of breath and shaking.


Holy Shit!

Dead of remorse, I examine her cheek blurred with tears. Holy shit! No trace of bruising! Given the force of the blow, I expected to see blood, a maxillary fracture, a bone that pierces the flesh or what else? Nothing like that. Not the slightest mark!

The poor little girl trembles with all her limbs. Tiny, fragile, she seems to be three years old. The tremendous power she showed is just a memory. She sobs long enough to empty a box of kleenex. She asks me in a very small voice that I do not recognize: “He will come back? He will come back?” 

She wants to talk about the demon that inhabited her. I don’t know what to tell her. I open my mouth to answer, but the voice that comes out is not mine. “No, he’s gone for good. He won’t come back unless you ask him.” Still the omnipotence of free will. That’s our unbreakable limit.

We lived the next two days as fifteen or twenty years of common life. Many times we woke up in dreams to live a dream life truer than the real one. Each awakening in the dream multiplies by ten the subjective duration of the new dream. Two days of happiness, twenty years on a desert island …




Just like in Inception. When I saw the movie, I was puzzled. Some Hollywood blockbusters go wild on solid foundations. I wouldn’t be surprised if the author, Christopher Nolan, went through something like this, to talk about it so well. Sure that he added some invented details to make a good film, but the plot is right, and the feat, to my knowledge, had never been told in cinema. But it’s not worth what I went through with my sweet southern witch.

Nor what I lived with my adorable Breton witch. His exorcism required me five terrible years to fight with my eyes closed, to gesticulate against an invisible enemy to finally, exhausted, dead more than half, to come to an end. Now that she is a book, she dedicates all her renewed energy to saving her family. This is her noblest task and sacred duty.

My tropical witch only cost me five short days of scuffles — or, if I look at it from an astral perspective, twenty long years of living together. At the end of those five days, Yesaelle was free. Before coming to see me while crossing the seas, she wrote me the following.


She the Human

I created you Man,
I was one of the banished and proscribed
in charge of populating the land.
While my brothers were fighting
to know how to overcome
what Father had given them,
I was longing for Him.
I communicated with the great whole.
So was my life,
I also communicated with «She».
I used to dive and descend
watch your species evolve.
But I was forbidden to speak to you
and to meet you because I was the daughter of Him.

Yet I was not insensitive to your condition, slave men.
So were you. And I’m still here, Man.
I love your kind, because even if it is difficult for you
You’re still my creation.

And for that, I must succeed,
I must also be able to free myself from matter
and give back what my Father left me.

Man, I’m heavy, I hurt, I know your pangs
but I also know your tenderness,
so I’ll fight for you again,
But in His Name, please wake up.

Many of us have come down
to impose our law and thus diminish your potential.
I had to take over a large city,
so I was manipulated: in my eyes was hidden
the misery that held you.


Rereading this poem today, its clarity dazzles me. Prophecy, initiation, nothing is missing. She confesses everything, my nice witch of the Southern Seas. She knows who she is and who she has been. The good and bad goddess shared her body from birth. The poor little girl was swallowed by an archon to the bone marrow.



In Dubious Battle

But the fight I just fought lasted longer. Five years, instead of five days! Bitter trial that has consumed my soul and more than once crushed my heart. Here you are free at last, so am I. Vigor is returned to me, energy returned, you see me ready to fight against the archons, my enemies of always, the imprint of absolute evil on the ephemeral that we are, fragile, contingent, anecdoctic. So fragile! 

After Marduk, the slaughter must continue. His lieutenant Mammon is in the crosshairs, he will be the next victim. God of money, he is the pope of the first human religion. The only one? Mammon fallen, the world will change all at once. It’s like a Marvel blockbuster, I can’t help it if it’s really like this.

Every night Goddess does, I wait until midnight to go to bed, more excited than a Christmas morning. In a few moments, I will face the Archons, Mammon or Marduk, or both. This is the most exciting adventure of my life. The steepest too. I can’t tell if it’s happening these days or a few hundred millennia ago. In astral, time doesn’t exist. Let’s say it doesn’t have the same shape as the one that passes here below.

Temporal paradoxes to the gum! The same eraser that erases our memories. Yesterday, the day before, today, how important? Marduk is the boss of this planet, everything that can be done against him in ancient times will paralyze him now. Ultimate goal: get rid of her creeping cohort. We would like the Goddess to wake up. We would like his archangels to arrive en masse to give us the decisive helping hand.

Now that I have done my duty as a passer-by, I am freed from a heavy burden. My friend has come out of the evil that has held her since childhood. It cost me considerable energy. I recovered it with a bonus for my efforts. I dedicate this great power to the fiercest and least human struggle imaginable.

The merciless struggle that will lose us all or save us forever.



The Desire to End

The other night, I saw Marduk in Babylon. A dragon. He knows me, he says we’ve met before. He listed my powers, he knows I know the timeline. I don’t remember anything, so I looked for information. You read them in my previous article, Baal Marduk. I don’t know about you, but I learned a lot about our hidden masters. I now see them as the authentic Illuminati. All the secret societies imagined by humans are nothing but nonsense next to these killers without pledge or mercy.

But I didn’t look where. I deserve a beautiful zero. I should have looked inside. Memory of a time I don’t remember. Courances, near Milly-la-Forêt. The old stones, the forest of Fontainebleau and my dreadful solitude. Vertiginously empty. The desire to finish it too. Impossible. Unthinkable.

I went through several very dark periods in my long life. The first, still an infant, gave me abominable nightmares for many months. Already initiatory contact? Already archons? In any case, the singular life I lived years later at Courances has all the characteristics. 



Underworld Citizen

So to kill someone else, I tried to kill time. I went down to see if I was there. And I was there. And I’ve been there a long time. So long that a lot of me is still there. Down there is the underworld. There are the under ones. Those below, who would like to live on the surface like humans. But they cannot. They would lack air.

I made myself inframondain to enjoy their gracious company. Gracious my ass. There’s nothing graceful about these filthy lizards. They wanted to keep me, they flirted with me without restraint or delicacy. I was too out of control to be offended, I didn’t catch anything at the time. It shocks me now when I go back. What the hell was I gonna do there? Find something I lost.


Affable Fable

That’s when I met Marduk. A distinguished guy, affable sometimes, dangerous all the time. He was showing me plans for the comet, really well-designed projects, ideas of his own, lots of interesting stuff he would have liked me to take care of. He was too busy to develop all his ideas. He needed a hand. He wanted a guy like me. Why wasn’t I suspicious? Marduk knew a lot about my account, not through Facebook. It was before. All this shit didn’t exist.

He didn’t have too much trouble tricking me. I’m so suspicious, I just have to get depressed to get obtuse. He promised me talents that I had as a child. But I didn’t remember. Thanks to him??? I regained all my healing power, even more powerful. When I was 12 years old I was healing the sores, now I remove the cancers. Change of gear, change of style, change of level. All cool, innocent, during my “absences” of which I measured neither the duration nor the quantity.

For three years, I remained prostrate, without work, without hours, living on non-existent reserves. How did I do that? Did Marduk give me everything I needed to live? On reflection, I think so. To think that I can only find a few days out of the three years I spent at Courances! Hidden in a villa without vis-à-vis, without seeing anyone except my boys sometimes, on weekends, who came from Paris by train at Fontainebleau. My only memories of this world. Otherwise I was elsewhere. In another world full-time.

And these absences are still happening now, that’s the problem. It’s high time this problem stopped.



The hell with him! He belongs to. I don’t want to know more. What he gave me, I already had. He gave it back to me, no more. False bowing and scraping and adoration. His slimy licking and venom. He wanted me with him. I said no. I pulled myself out of his honeycomb claws. His fawn smile. His crocodile eyes. Now I have a personal reason to knock him down. A good reason to break his fake-ass face. Hence my motto:

Defeat is not an option.

What risk for the warrior except his life or death ? (Carlos Castaneda)


You’re stupid and you’re suspicious. ‘Cause you don’t believe me when I tell you that you’re stupid.
Jean-Paul Belmondo