Would Jesus be a modern day Christian? No, and here's why.

 I am attempting once again to broach a touchy subject from an organic point of view.

Who is Jesus?

My purpose here is not to debate whether he existed or whether he was divine. But to acknowledge that he means different things to different people. Because we all arrive at him in a unique manner. And that the hijacking of his iconography and legacy by the religious institutions and cults centered on him have done disservice to his mission.

For this reason, I feel a new terminology must be developed for those of us who embrace and follow the Son of Man OUTSIDE of the Church (in all its denominations) and the canon. The irony should be self-evident: that the Word became flesh to refute the hypocrisy of the zealous Pharisees and to expose their blind hatred of his works and teachings, only to have a new species of Pharisees claim sole access to his  teaching, while rarely walking in his footsteps. These same people will condemn me for saying this, the way the Pharisees condemned the Son of Man for healing a man on the Sabbath and telling him to pick up his mat and walk home. 

But I don't care. What Christians and the Church are doing isn't working. It's time for a fresh, organic way of walking with the Lord. And nobody has a right to tell you otherwise. Your journey to Christ is yours alone; you alone must walk it; and only He knows the path you must tread to get to Him. Therefore I cannot call myself "Christian" and identify myself with the masses who claim to follow Him, yet remain sinners, unrepentant and obstinate in their dogmatic beliefs and washing their hands of the political consequences.

In the wake of a newly-elected Pope in the year of our Lord 2025, it seems acutely absurd to continue a tradition that has absolutely nothing to do with Christ, and everything to do with CONTROL. Control is for the Caesars of the temporal world, and not for the true disciples who try to walk in His footsteps. Nobody is saying there aren't sincere Christians. But the Church as their rally point is deceptive in many cases. It can still do the work of the Lord, but why use blunt instruments when He gave us sharp tools.

We must go back to the very beginning, before there were just four Gospels. There were, in fact, many Gospels and many points of view regarding His teaching. And these were stamped out as heretics by the time a Caesar named Constantine called for the Council of Nicaea. In that brief, exciting era, Jews, Christians and pagans alike, Greek and Egyptian, got to share ideas regarding this figure and their respective theosophical traditions contributed to the enlightenment of these teachings. Their Mecca was Alexandria, and the famous library there contained works we will no longer behold. If not for the few scribes who locked their scrolls in desert caves, we might never know these works even existed. But while the Prophets dictated, the Lord corrects and shows a different plan.

We are seeing the unfolding of doctrine on the world stage and rather than offering promise and hope, we are seeing it rear its ugly head like the monster of W.B. Yeats' "The Second Coming." My entire life I've been baffled by this imagery from Yeats. I think I expected something grandiose and awe-inspiring, otherworldly even, would make itself known. It's clear now that what's slouching towards Bethlehem is WAR. And the servants of Sauron intent on making it happen appear to have the full support of the Judeo-Christian world. That should give us pause.

A clear line has been drawn in the sand and in the decades ahead, Westerners will need to define on which side of that line they stand. It was the same line that was drawn long ago between the heretics and the Church. The Church offered CONTROL, and all the perks that came with being the successor of the Roman Empire--an empire this time without borders. The heretics offered only the truth--and brotherhood. And so they were all but stamped out. And here we come to the crux of it, don't we?

The Church is now the West. It is Judeo-Christian and atheist and secular. But they are the Pharisees of today. And they oppress and murder the heretics wherever they find them even today. All while claiming to do the work of Yahweh and Christ. Who are the heretics? They are the people with actual ties to the land they claim as homeland and refuse to abandon it. They are the people with actual ties to each other and who don't sacrifice family for luxury and a fast buck. They are people of actual faith who believe their suffering in this world serves a purpose for their place in the afterlife. The heretics are a brotherhood as the Son of Man intended. And so, of course, they must be destroyed. They are the final and only obstacle in the path towards the death wish imagined in the Book of Revelation.

These modern Pharisees would raze the entire surface of the Earth until it looks bare and barren like the Moon. They believe AI is their ticket to eternal life. But we know that eternal life comes after our time on Earth, and so we are not seduced by their toys and pleasures. And for this, they must destroy us. We are the heretics, we are the brotherhood, and we are NOT Judeo-Christian. We are as the Son of Man truly intended: His disciples, who die in sacrifice for our brothers and sisters, who speak out against sin yet recognize we are sinners saved by Grace, who say the truth knowing we will be condemned for it, who know there is no greater Love than this: to die for our friends. We are the fulfillment of a promise made to the Son of Man long ago, and we need a new name, since "Christian" means being bought by the Pharisees. We are therefore Solenicon, Children of the Moon Goddess, the Pistis Sophia, in contrast to the blood-hungry Yaldabaoth. That monster and his Pharisees slouch towards Bethlehem, but we don't care for any "Holy Land." We know the Son of Man dwells in Amarantus, that flower that blooms eternally, that jewel of the perfect mind. We only hope one day to march to that abode and join our brothers and sisters in song. 

So while the West destroys itself through the pursuit of genocide, ethnic cleansing and CONTROL. And our Judeo-Christian brothers and sisters remain silent, or contribute tacitly, eager to continue enjoying the pleasures of the Empire. We, the Solenicon, shall save the West: for as the waves sink Atlantis, who would eat the World whole, our solitary ships shall brave the storm, as they have only known being tossed about, and land one day on that shore cleansed and blessed by the blood of our brothers and sisters, whose cries are more dear and precious to the Lord than any Psalm of David. 

Here is the line in the sand and I stand opposite you with my hand extended. That hand is my writing and my stories. I invite you to partake in the vision of a world vastly different from the one we reside in. A world that existed long ago, or perhaps it never did, but can some day, if we save the West, or at least our souls in the process.

5/10/25 Sat. 20:24

A Book of Elevation?

So I have returned. Seems like I always come back in a moment of crisis. Fortunately not a crisis of creativity but of slow desperation with what I see around me and not knowing really how to get the word out. It seems more than ever that the world needs clarification on the spiritual/psychological/emotional/mental mess it has allowed a few SOB’s to create for over two thousand years. 

Picture it, before that it wasn’t like this. Yes, there were still some serious struggles, and cruelty, yes, that’s always been a stable of a slave race, especially a hybrid one. But we have really stumbled in a quagmire here.  Liberals are angrier than ever, conservatives are flumoxed, LGBT’s are being terrorized in nightclubs, weather is flooding homes in the south and east, while fires are burning homes in the west; after Jade Helm and Info Wars, you have more people becoming desperate about FEMA camps and NWO; rich libertarian, freedom-loving expatriates warn their families to leave the U.S.; religious fundamentalists from Christianity to Islam are raving over Revelation and Sharya law, claiming our sins is what is bringing hell upon us. All these people just need to calm down and quit the nonsense. But nothing can happen if we can’t speak sensibly and openly about what’s really going on in this planet in its long history of manipulation. 

I am aware that my book Amarantus will not help you finish your underground bunker. It won’t stop the weather from destroying your home. It won’t protect your hard-earned savings, and it might not even provide the answers to religious paranoia fundamentalists want to hear. It seems people are pretty bent on the current narrative of self destruction. Well I’m not. I’m providing the alternative. And maybe people are not ready for it yet; maybe this is something your grandchildren or great-grandchildren down the road will respond to more eagerly. But it is something the human spirit and creative collective desperately needs: and that’s a world that can grow and evolve, instead of destroy itself. That’s why I call Amarantus and all my related works really, the Book of Elevation. 

Enough breaking down the mind to the point of constant panic attacks. Time to elevate the mind to a state of harmony with what truly awaits, if we only invest our focus and creative energy into it. We are in a mental/psychological/emotional/spiritual crisis more than anything. There is no way out of it. The only way through it is by refocusing our energies on building something new, rather than pointing out what’s wrong and who are the SOB’s in control, and thus feeling futile to stop it. I have no idea how to get the word out there about Amarantus yet, but I am confident that its message will be vital to the health of the human collective psyche in the years to come.

The American: why you should beware and what you can do

An older American truck driver came up to me and said, “I made more money in 1972 than this year. With all these new regulations, they’re squeezing us out of jobs, and let me tell you: you won’t like the people coming to take our place. Ah! I’m set to retire in a few months anyway.”

In that statement you have the American mentality summed up quite nicely. One could easily blame the Baby Boomer generation for the spread of this disease, but all you have to do is read D.H. Lawrence’s poem “The Evening Land” to realize the symptoms were there already in the twenties. And if that’s the case, maybe they were there from America’s conception. Maybe the true story of America is not the epic fairy tale of the champions for freedom, but the first bogged attempt by a nation to design a future without a past.

So the real question becomes: was it a genuine attempt?

Given the current landscape one must assume either that the experiment was hijacked at some point in time, or, it never sought from its inception what the history books claim.

Perhaps what we see if we look at the relatively short history of America, as a child might, or better yet as an aloof extraterrestrial, is the canvas on which we find painted a dangerously misleading deception where, occasionally, a genuine hand took up the brush and attempted to make the country live up to its principles only to end up assassinated.

As I am now midway through life’s journey, (like Dante when he wrote his Divine Comedy) I have shed my idealism about many things, including America, because I have learned the hard way that such idealism, as a belief system, which is all that it truly is, is anathema to my survival. So, when one’s taught a belief at school, only to find that it doesn’t hold up to one’s actual experience, the logical decision is to chuck it all out and start over by using observation to make inferences about what is really going on in this circus called America.

That is, in fact, what I love about D.H. Lawrence. His body of work is drawn from personal human experience and nothing else. No matter how painful to the human psyche, or how it flew in the face of societal assumptions and beliefs, Lawrence told it how it is. Unlike his contemporaries, who probably mark the first generation of desperately self-aware, self-involved shit-talkers, (yes, I mean your heroes James Joyce, Virginia Wolf, T.S. Eliot, et al.) Lawrence was from the school of hard-knocks, and that’s why he stands alone.

I mention Lawrence, because, like him, I have observed American behavior and now, nearly a century later, have come to the same conclusion. And it terrifies me.

            Dark, elvish,

            Modern, unissued, uncanny America,

            Your nascent demon people

            Lurking among the deeps of your industrial thicket

            Allure me till I am beside myself,

            A nympholept.

Are the American people as a whole, as a nation, in actuality, soulless demons waiting to be awakened by some Dark Prince to instigate a new Dark Age?

If America was once the nation that forged its future without a past, then it has devolved into the Trojan horse of all liberty. One gets the distinct but eerie feeling that if the federal government offered guarantees to its citizenry of a comfortable retirement package in exchange for engaging in thermonuclear war with Russia, the American people would be fine with that. They might not admit to it publicly, but many would secretly sign the deal. Clearly, that’s what their representatives in Congress have done.

Nobody is batting an eyelash at the fact that such an escalation would lead to massive extinction across the planet. Nobody seems perturbed that the players in this game have made a bold statement with the shooting down of Malaysia Airlines Flight 17. Nobody is out of harm’s way. But wait, if you retire within the next few months, you’ll be A-okay. You can bow out from the public arena and live off your hard-earned savings from the safety of your home, and kick the bucket down the road for your grandchildren to sort out. After all, you’ve done your part, right? You’ve worked hard all your life for this retirement, voted for who you hoped could set the country right; what else can be asked of you, for Christ’s sake!

The idea that the whole purpose of life and of working hard is to save enough so you can kick back and self-indulge during your Golden years is purely an American creation. And it is infectious. Like a cancer, it eats away at the work ethic of a nation until you have an “easy money” mentality that dissuades self-development into skilled trades and professions, and destroys the concept that we are working today for our children’s future—something that has value way beyond our own retirement. You become not just a nation without a future anymore, but a nation who is not even present—soulless demons who have yet to step out into the light of day.

I have witnessed it time and again. The only thing you can bet on is an American’s astuteness for self-gain. There he will employ his wit to every sort of creative way by which to screw everyone over for his own personal gain. Capitalism at its most brutally honest. “The end justifies the means.”

The problem there is that there is no fruitfulness in a nation of vultures. Vultures feed on carcasses. Vikings plunder. Capitalists profiteer. Someone still needs to produce carcasses for the vultures or become one himself. The problem is: nobody is producing in America. The alpha vultures will move to new feeding grounds. I guess that’s Russia and Asia. And they will leave the minion vultures to feed on each other.

I hope this paints the picture clearly. The problem is not that we have a Democrat for president. The problem is not that we have a man of color for president. The problem is that we have the kingpin alpha vulture for president, and he means to leave us nothing but bones by the time he’s done with us.

I say this with complete peace of mind for I no longer carry the delusion of belief. I do have faith, but that is another matter, and not in the American people, because they have never been and do not choose to be a people. They cannot be. So long as they are drawn together by their mutual greed for the American dollar, they can only be a cluster of sleepy demons, stirred into a rage by all who stand in their way of financial security—family, friend and enemy alike.

In this respect the Gospel of Thomas seems highly prophetical:

            For there will be five in a house:

            There’ll be three against two and two against three,

            Father against son and son against father,

            And they will stand alone.

Therefore, as a failed experiment, does America prove that a nation cannot forge a future without a past?

Without the blood-ties of the clans of the Old World, can a people stick by each other for the important decisions pertaining to their mutual survival: such as avoiding thermonuclear war with Russia, or incarcerating the alpha vultures and getting back to actual production?

The answer is, that in the absence of blood-ties, a brotherhood must be forged, under extreme duress, that adheres to a strict discipline where the gains of the day never precede the future of our children—a future destined to be devoid of gods, kings, presidents and warmongers, where every man is his own master and conspires only to assure his brother’s freedom. Not the freedom to indulge himself, but the freedom to contribute to the future in whatever way he’s most suited.

This must be the new faith of all mankind should they wish to survive and prosper on this planet or any other. The Rubicon must be crossed. Failure to do so invites extinction.

I know my words will invite the wrath of the American. How dare I criticize, question and think for myself! Crucify me. Show your cruelty for what it truly is. But don’t expect me to cower and bow before your insolence! Prove me wrong. Impeach your president, clean the House and the Senate, and purge yourselves of the Fed. The fight against terrorism is on our home soil, in our own White House, not abroad, and certainly not in Russia!

Not every American need awaken. Just the ones willing to do something! I give you the gift of Brotherhood, bound by the creed of discipline, obeying only the love that rules over your hearts. With it you can build a nation that crosses all borders and spans all denominations. Give the remnant of humanity a future they can have faith in. Live for today but work for tomorrow. Greatness awaits you.

Declaration of the first book of the Amarantion series

For those who know me as a Kohl's associate, or as an actor, I am also a writer, and have been at least since I was six years old, when I started my own school newspaper entitled "Stuper News" and documented the history of battles among my action figures. For the past seven years I have been engrossed in serious soul searching and research of a wide array of subjects in my own determination to produce a cohesive body of work in the scifi/fantasy vein that is both truthful and inspirational--an Ice Breaker that clearly exposes the illusions of the current world paradigm and visualizes a new one.

The central themes are to embrace love as given, rather than as we want it to be; to seek salvation within, instead of outside yourself; and to focus on the formation of an international Brotherhood that can deliver the new paradigm. Hence the birth of the Solenicon. I hope to release the first book of this series entitled Amarantion: Gospel of the Pearlfisher Bard later this year, and begin the journey of sharing its message with all of you.

White Man's Inferno Book Trailer

When I heard of the phenomenon called book trailers, I thought I’d try making one for my book White Man’s Inferno. This book is an integral first step towards the epic of Amarantus. It encompasses my struggle to develop into a leadership role, which becomes complete with Urias, the pivotal figure of Amarantus and founder of the Cymry Hyyl. Given this, White Man's Inferno deserves my efforts to promote it despite the fact that I have moved past some of the observations and premature conclusions made in that book to a more clear, concrete foundation of practical faith.

For the soundtrack I utilized a song that I co-wrote with a good friend of mine, Denny Miller, called “The Song of Me.” Hopefully the result is something reflective and emotionally moving. I’ll let you decide.

Thanks again for checking me out. More to come.

Chicago Poetry Fest 4-25-09

On Saturday, April 25th, I attended the Chicago Poetry Fest at the Harold Washington Library in Chicago. There was a poetry reading sponsored by ChicagoPoetry.com from 2 to 4 at which WBEZ's Chicago Amplified recorded poetry readings by the local poets present, professional and amateur alike. Additionally, at this event copies of ChicagoPoetry.com’s free publication Poetry Cram 5, in which one of my poems “The Confession of Urias” is included, were handed out to the public.



It was definitely an interesting experience. Emotions ran high and there was an army of poets hungry for the opportunity to read before an attentive audience. Although the organizer CJ Laity had the best intentions and signed up everyone who wanted to read, cramming fifty-three poets in a 150-minute time span was an overly ambitious feat. Unfortunately, this meant many of us who read later in the program had to quicken the pace of our own poetry readings (myself included), and still there were poets who never got to read because the library was closing. This meant the tension was high, especially in that last half hour.



Although I was fortunate enough to read, WBEZ cut off their recording a good fifteen minutes before I got up there, so alas that opportunity passed me by. Still, it was liberating to go up there and command the attention of a captive audience, even if only for two minutes. It was definitely an empowering experience. Even better, my sister recorded the whole thing and I can upload the video along with some images into this posting for those of you who might be curious to see and hear me read my poetry.

This is definitely something I will want to do again. Having a forum through which to express one’s ideas and creativity is certainly one of the great gifts of a free society. That so many people wish to engage in such an event is encouraging.

Below is a transcript of the poem, in case the audio isn’t clear enough. Thanks again for checking me out. I’ll continue to post such experiences in the future.

The Confession of Urias
By Giuliano A. Fontanez

Of Man’s First Will to Act & thus Refute
That Bestial side which threatens to consume
& ravage him till he no longer Lives,
But Undead makes this World a living hell,
Until the Coming of our noble Arthur,
Sing Goddess Three: Thy servant Urias
Remembers Thy chaste Lady of the Lake,
Her tender gift to me made profusely;
To Her I grant the Grail of Christ’s Message
To keep as testament of what’s to come
That She may grow into womanhood Lov’d,
& justifie Thy Promis’d Throne ‘mong men.

With tears I sought Her in oceans of hate;
I howl’d for Her after years lost at sea,
Lost in that oblivion selfishly
For hurts done long ago, for hurts of which
I no longer know, but the residue.
I took much to heart, things said & things done,
That were naught in weight had I not thought ‘pon.
I burn’d my house down & all bridges, too.
Alone I became Le Bel Inconnu,
Hiding in the black forest from all men,
Victim to succubi & spider webs.
Two twinkling stars alone offer’d me hope;
A faint Jupiter warm’d up my dead nights.
Until I, desiring these divine flames,
Built a ship seeking escape in the sea
Only to be trapped one hundred eight moons
By Circe’s cruel winds in a maelstrom of doubt.
Then a brief calm blanketed the sea that
Oft times before went unheeded by me;
& I in meditation now seeking
To improve, notic’d the sparkle in the depths
& seeing my chance dove into blackness.
I, pearlfisher bard, dar’d to risk my life
For the thought of Her whom I had known once.

©2009 Giuliano A. Fontanez

Amarantus Dawn

Welcome to a whole new world being born.

This is for all those of you whom I know or who I am about to know: a place where you can see what I am doing as a poet and interact with me and those ideas that form the core of my being.

It all began a decade ago with a single word: Amarantus. Think of it as a flower, but a flower that never fades. It goes on as worlds are born and die. Forever blooming, forever evolving, it’s the final destination every soul craves—the triumph of a purpose fulfilled.

From this resplendent realm every living being comes, but only the choosers return. The choosers are those of us who choose to meet people halfway without demanding to change them. We accept the limitations of those around us and strive for the best within ourselves. We take risks for the sake of an idea, an image, a promise made secretly. It’s not about changing the world; it’s about BE-ing the change you wish to see in the world around you. Living it, with persistence, and with faith.

There are no guarantees in such a path, but it is a path well-treaded by those who have chosen it for thousands of years. It is an arduous path, full of hardship and suffering, a path of endurance, the path of survival. At times it can be a lonely path, at times the path is overrun by wilderness and can grow uncertain, but throughout it’s imprinted with the deep footsteps of those who came before you, so you can find your way again.

Personally, I have run away from this path. I have made every effort to avoid it. Until, in the end, I was forced down it kicking and screaming by the sheer reality of poverty. Starvation and homelessness can be an unrelenting motivator to those of us who wish to feed our groaning bellies and have a roof over our heads to sleep in, and must do so solely through our own efforts. Yet even here we can lose hope and descend into madness, if not for the loved ones who share in our plight and for whom we continue the struggle of living. There will be intense moments of frustration and anger at the injustice and the restlessness of the situation, but in the end if we truly seek to improve ourselves, we will be granted the choice of walking the path to Amarantus.

My book White Man’s Inferno: A century of living torture is an allegorical interpretation of that journey I have chosen to make at its very beginning, when the difference between right and wrong needed to be clearly defined, and where ideas for a new faith that could grow from our pagan and Christian past could be freely considered. It is a journey through my living hell, so that I could purge myself of hatred against things said and things done that are now far in the past, and that I might transform myself into someone new—and that someone has a name: Urias.

That story and its development I would like to share with you all in this blog and in my writings. So far the path has carried me past the white man’s inferno to the enigmatic figures of Merlyn and Hamlet. Through them I am discovering a renewed sense of purpose in my work and an uplifting vision for humanity that I offer to the choosers who like me wish to go home some day to Amarantus.

It is like Merlyn, the first Urias, has said to me:

“After it’s all said and done I won’t be remembered for uniting the noble houses of Prydein (Britannia), nor for restoring the Cruwwgh (Stonehenge) and uncovering Logar (the kingdom of Camelot), nor for my efforts with the Teuton immigration and the building of the Branclawdd (Wansdyke), nor my numerous battles against our final disintegration, but for giving the world Aradus (King Arthur) and the Duselmir (Knights of the Round Table) through a brotherhood of the howl dedicated to our Goddess in a Grail—the Cymry Hyyl.”

Amarantus Dino! Logar Dino! Cymry Hyyl!