"The Druids taught their disciples many things about nature and the perfections of God, and that, there was only one God, the Creator of heaven and earth. One name, under which they worshiped him, was Esus or Hesus (“He," in Celtic meaning, "Lord," ) or Harits which is their name for Horus..."

~Julius Caesar from [Signs and Symbols of Primordial Man, by Albert Churchward circa 1912] [Page 186]



"He,"  -meaning, "Lord," and "Sus," being the most ancient Minoan form of, "Zeus," therefore, "Jesus," means in Celtic and Greek;

"Lord Zeus."

The word "Harits," being Sanskrit identical to, "Charits," and "Marits, Maruts," a mythical epithet for Aryas, or Aryans so the usage of it for his name means it represents him as being Aryan.  

Jesus as an Aryan.

If You can prove it, prove it wrong,
then do so here or do so in song.
If you can also, do it in verse,
then truly you'll deserve a purse.
I do not believe there will ever be,
on this point,

...a mortal man to challenge me!

Good Luck

inside an early morning
the sky flipped around
cart wheeling above
lightning bolt flashes
big thunder boomers
some clouds fostered
the rain which leaps
onto the earth just as
Zeus flushes the toilet
and the entire world
stops to listen for
him to zip.

“Who is this Astrapé?”
“This, who is, Astrapé!”
“Astrapé, who is this?”
“Who this is, Astrapé!”
“This is who? Astrapé!”
“Whose Astrapé is this?”
“This Astrapé is who?”
“Astrapé this!”
“Astrapé who?”
“Astrapé is,”
“…electric zoo,”
“Astrapé!”

“When I was a little boy,
I looked up at the skies.
The clouds rolled-in and stormy sounds;
Then lightning flashed my eyes!”

For Zeus is this Astrapé!

dear . . . sweetie,

the projections of your essence is the type
to cook up a future of you;
of the home you call your heart,
or how you let it spill across the metal table,
just to knead it back together to construct wholesome smiles.

yours is the form of communication i've never known,
a presence that haunts me -
as the scent of your perfume lingers at the back of my tongue
as i taste a sweet fruit,
or how your stories speak to me
as my eyes trickle such mundane appliances around me.

you have taken not my heart, nor my soul.
you have extracted from me fragments of my time;
where i find myself caught in the air, mystically
hearing the songs that were stuck in my head when i first met you.

you are the soundtrack to my little death.
you are always right in the corner of my mind, just as i want to see you:
half-baked, smirking, and vulnerable.

We set out on our journey, that one fateful day
The winds of ****** shrieking angrily above our heads, filling our sails
Our ship tossing from Poseidon’s restless sea, sending us astray

As our journey wore on, and as night soon fell  
We found ourselves awash upon the Isle of Gael

Venturing from our ship, now sunken
We were met with fearsome creatures, their faces twisted and scarred

Escaping from death, daylight soon broke
The sky turning grey
The thunder rolling in, showed the might of Zeus
His anger flickering with jagged lightning, bringing tales of what once had been

A guide approached us, his face sunken and pale
He begun to tell us the fears of the Earth
A time when titans roamed and the mountains burned

As he finished his tale
He stood and led us through to Mother Gaia’s fortress
We walked, hearing Polyhymnia sing her chorus

The art lining the walls, long forgotten
Depicting tales of battles raged long ago
Between the family that ruled
Four elements would battle for control, the throne would be held by the mighty Zeus

Our journey had soon begun to close
We had learned the history of our past

As we returned home, our minds alight with new history
We found the battles had not ceased
We dragged our travel worn bodies upon the shore
Only to have to fight for our lives once more

As our battle on ground wore on, the gods became angry
The mountains rose up and the tides crashed
Sending the world into darkened chaos once again
We would fight the never ending battle
Until all the wrongs were righted

I stopped bragging about my vices when
you reminded me that I existed before my addictions.

I stopped blaming love for knowing me falsely when I realized that I had never really met it before.

I realized that my obsessions ran shallow because I thought that it would be hard to quit them,
but it was harder to hold back
eternity;
the infinite moments that I felt
had existed
before I did.

As though the love I have for you was
pre-
determined
pre-
ordained
pre-
ternaturally formed.

As if the way I had organized my messy human emotions into neat little
boxes
   &
lines
had all been an errand to occupy my mind.

Before I loved you-
I loved escaping.

Any window
or stairway
or back-alley-path

that I could shimmy-down sideways
and avoid
things like

small talk
or
free verse
or
early mornings,

were the lanes I would dwell in,
hide in,
reside in.

But when I'm with you-
and when I'm without you-
(because now you permeate everything I do)
everything that I do is tinged with you;
Your colour
Your contrast
Your pigment
Your hue.

As if you are a light ray that I can now see,
my spectrum has gained the most beautiful wave.

And in this ultraviolet light,
the

small talk
and
free verse
and
early mornings

are sort of
breathtaking.

I say sort of, because while I gasp, you give me air.

And how can I choke when my heart's already gone?

When my skin is electric and my soul is
on fire

like some sort of creature that's been born from the flames.

And everything I thought that I needed
has now been
erased
and
replaced
and
preceded

by this uncontrollable urge
to eat you
alive
to have you
inside
to *** when
you die.

And this monster that you've made of me is hungry
and *****
and cannot concentrate on anything but
you

And I swear to God
or the grave
(and really, they're the same)
that if I love you any more
I will be ruptured in two
which would leave me a quarter of a person
because I'm only whole when I'm with you.

Like the four-legged beings that Zeus ripped apart-

I've searched for you always
I've searched for your heart.

lightning flashes and thunder roars.
people scatter like livestock.
it’s hard to forget who rules the sky.

waves reach their crescendo
and crash onto the rocks by the beach.
it’s hard to forget who rules the sea.

the riverman guides souls across styx for a price.
weeping souls and anguished cries.
it’s hard to forget who rules the underworld.