In 1969 I began looking for a spiritual vehicle to move my art in a new direction. I discovered the Pre-Raphaelite. I shared my discovery with Christine who had become absorbed in the Ring Trilogy of J.R. Tolkien. Here are the images that would consume our culture, and the counter-culture. Add Enya’s music, and the worship of women is born. Rosamond’s posters were found all over the world in 1972. Lovers of Rosamond’s work began to ask questions. Some fans thought she was a man. Was she a Lesbian? Why didn’t she render men, her love objects?
After I would finish a painting I would write a poem inspired by my work. Sometimes I would play my guitar before my painting, I improvising, looking for new notes and chords.
None of my imput appears in the movie scripts or biographies about Christine Rosamond because the un-creative had taken control of the artistic legacy I carried on from my grandfather, Royal Rosamond. The non-artists know nothing about art, poetry, and music. They proved to be bad business people. They destroyed my family.
In 1970 I considered my family becoming like the Rossetti family. Gabriel Rossette was a good friend of Swineburne and did a painting of Fair Rosamund. In 1996 Jimmy Rosamond put this link to Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor’s website on the Rosamond Family History. I kept it a secret that Liz was our kin lest the Dark Ones swoop down and capture her with their lies and keep her in their cult tower.
http://liz-taylor.com/elizabeth_taylor_homepage.htm
Vicki Presco told me Christine accused her of incorporating her life in the stories Vicki told about herself. Vicki captured my daughter, and now Drew. Vicki loves family secrets. Vicki give me no credit for being Rosamond’s teacher. Vicki set-up the adult Heir for an arrest with the help of Garth’s divorce attorney who submitted this statement to the Probate Court;
I was told by the Monterey Police Officer, who arrested Shannon Benton, after she broke into and entered the decedents home on three separate occasions and that in her opinion the only way Ms. Benton would learn her lesson is if she spent time in jail.”
On the eve of her mother’s funeral, Shannon came downstairs with an armful of papers and demanded to know who had been rifling through them. Shannon saw herself as the guardian of her mother’s legacy.
The lying parasites who grabbed control of my families artistic legacy with the help of Vicki, began to depict themselves as Champions of Women’s Rights via their Queen of Women……Fair Rosamond Benton. The false worship of the Rose of the world, had begun.
Vicki declined to serve as Christine’s name Executor because she feared the wrath of Shannon. Instead, she dropped out into the darkness where the outsiders put he on their thrown and brought their lies to her in order to get her Seal of Opproval.
Jon Presco
Copyright 2013
In “The Swinburnian Woman” Antony H. Harrison points out that “female figures who appear as the object of a man’s consuming passion dominate Swinburne’s work” (90), and according to him, these women appear within one of three subtypes, all of which share cruelty as well as ideality as their characteristics:
(1) the passionate: Mary Stuart, Rosamond, Phaedra, and Iseult of Ireland. “Unlike the stereotypes of the mythical category, these women are all highly individualized, and, rather than treating their victims with the indifference of Lucretian gods, they deeply love the men they kill or threaten” (90).
(2) the mythical: Atalanta, Celopatra, Dolores, Tannhauser’s Venus. and Rosamond, Queen of the Lombards. This figure, in contrast, is a “sensuous, timeless and dispassionate belle dame sans merci whose mythical or mythicized incarnations draw down to death all men who love them” 90-91)
(3) the matriarchal: Althae in Atalanta in Calydon and the maternal figures in nature. “The Triumph of Time,” “By the North Sea,” “Hertha,” “On the Cliffs.” “Metaphorically or actually maternal figures appear as second remove from the actual life of a given male protagonist, but they exert compelling control over his fate because they explicitly represent both the source of his life and the comprehensive matrix to which all men return at death” (91).
According to Harrison, in Swinburne’s “largely Blakean mythology of creation, total freedom pre-exists individual man’s incarnation, and it is that condition of freedom which is, ultimately, the land of his heart’s desire. In life woman is the pohysical embodiment of the generative/destructive matrix” (99). The Swinburnian woman is more than a particularly sinister version of the Keatsian la belle dame sans merci, for like the women of courtly love poetry she possesses a kind of religious significance.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Algernon_Charles_Swinburne
http://www.londonremembers.com/memorials/rossetti-swinburne
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nerthus
Atalanta was the daughter of Iasus (or Mainalos or Schoeneus, according to Hyginus), a Boeotian (according to Hesiod) or an Arcadian princess (according to the Bibliotheca). She is often described as a goddess.[citation needed] The Bibliotheca is the only one who gives an account of Atalanta’s birth and upbringing. King Iasus wanted a son; when Atalanta was born, he left her on a mountaintop to die. Some stories say that a she-bear suckled and cared for Atalanta until hunters found and raised her, and she learned to fight and hunt as a bear would. She was later reunited with her father.
Having grown up in the wilderness, Atalanta became a fierce hunter and was always happy. She took an oath of virginity to the goddess Artemis.[2][3]
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atalanta
A Sea Spell
Her lute hangs shadowed in the apple-tree,
While flashing fingers weave the sweet-strung spell
Between its chords; and as the wild notes swell,
The sea-bird for those branches leaves the sea.
But to what sound her listening ear stoops she?
What netherworld gulf-whispers doth she hear,
In answering echoes from what planisphere,
Along the wind, along the estuary?
She sinks into her spell: and when full soon
Her lips move and she soars into her song,
What creatures of the midmost main shall throng
In furrowed self-clouds to the summoning rune,
Till he, the fated mariner, hears her cry,
And up her rock, bare breasted, comes to die?




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