My Beloved Disciple





tylersleepWhen I first lay eyes on Belle Burch, the first word that came to my mind was “Wife”. Two days ago I sent Belle a e-mail wherein I called her my Disciple. I told Belle there is no greater love that a Master has for his disciple, for I was feeling this highest form of Love. I did not know this until I came to understand why I had chosen Belle to be the Heir to my knowledge. This is Elijah passing on his gift of prophecy to Elisha. I have long wondered if Elisha was woman.

I have not heard from Belle in three days because I suggested her lover wanted her to meet with me to see if there was a any money in this legacy – for him and his cause! There is a story about Sampson’s wife being plied to get her to give away the answer of the riddle he made to confound the Philistines who were his inlaws now that he married a Philistine woman. The reason Belle kept her lover a secret, because she and he believed I would not give Belle anything if I knew whose hand was out behind the curtain.

Today, or tomorrow, Belle committed herself to model for me in exchange for Bluebelle. We will see if she dare show. She is making up all kinds of reasons as to why she should not honor our agreement, the foremost one being the one many have employed………I and dangerously insane, and thus it is my fault people I bond with see me as sub-human, and thus I deserve their abuse! Belle, and her Merry Band of Anarchist Men, her Seven Snow Dwarfs, are sane – of course!

Above are photos of my beautiful grandson, Tyler Hunt. No one who got close to me cares that I have been mortally wounded with his loss. We have not lay eyes on each other in over two years. He was seven April 17th.

A year ago I came to conclude I am a Fisher King. There is a lineage of these Fishermen that have been wounded in their penis, their manhood – lost – and thus their kingdom is in great decline. One could say this king must find ‘The One’ who agrees to awaken his dorment manhood. This does not mean they have intercourse. Just the consideration……… enough!

Belle considered us having intercourse, if only to seal the deal! How far would she go for the cause of her lover? When she put that on the table, I told her I have been wounded by my treatment of prostate cancer, and am impotent.

I told Belle that I came to own the teaching of the Pre-Raphaelites in America, and own the right to author the next Lord of the Ring Legend. She looked at m sideways, and said she really likes Celtic stuff. I said nothing, because this will part of Belle’s lesson, that she will refuse, even take a piss on, but, it is due her. She agreed to be my Heir. She is not getting out of our agreement, especially when she asked the Grail Question and now is held captive on the Quest of Ion – until she masters it!

In this post I explain the letter H in my name.

In this post I mention my grandfather’s desire to build a resort for poets on his land so they may fish. His friend, Otto, asked Royal if any of his California Poet friends want to contribute to his Arcadian Magazine.

Belle thought this was going to be a cake walk. Laziness is her great flaw! She authors Lazy Poetry. She knew what I was getting at, this her father’s complaint. Having bonded with, and siring four children with one of the most creative and ambitious woman in the Emerald Valley, has left Belle a wondrous glass slipper to fill – when her prince comes along! Look down Mon Belle, and behold ‘The Red Slippers’

Help me get my grandson back!

Let make this clear, I am not a deluded mentally ill person who thinks he is Jesus, nor do I want to be like Jesus, that is, any Jesus most folks are aware of, that has nothing to do with the real Jesus and his mission. I am anti-Christian, and believe there was a Savior-king who came for the Gentiles, and hated Saint Paul, the enemy of the Nazarites.

Jon Presco

Copright 2014

In most medieval stories, the mention of a wound in the groin or more commonly the “thigh” (such as the wounding of the ineffective suitor in Lanval from The Lais of Marie de France) is a euphemism for the physical loss of or grave injury to one’s “manhood” (quite literally, the penis).

On Saturday, April 19, 2014 9:34 PM, Belle Burch wrote:

Hey Jon,

It’s Belle. Still wondering if you’re real. Thank you again for the bike. Let’s set up a time for me to do some modeling. Thurs and Fri are possibilities for me.
By the way, Why “John Ambrose”? Is that your middle name? Nom de plume? Highly synchronistic, as my current partner’s legal first name is Ambrose. I’m very curious about this.

Also, I thought you preferred to spell your name without the “h”?

Here’s the poem I said I’d send you.
Haven’t read any of your emails yet, will get to that soon.

In 1987 while attending the New Hope program at Serenity Lane, I decided it was time to RECOVER my name, the one my mother gave me at birth, that she refused to use when a nurse put an H in JON when she fill out my birth certificate. Rosemary was furious, and called me by my middle name, Gregory, that got shortened to Greg. I told my new brothers and sister in sobriety;

“My two alcoholic parents fought all the time – over everything – including my name. My father would call me John just to irk my mother.”

A year later I read all of Luke one night, and was in the light. I merged from my trailer parked by the McKenzie River to behold stars and a crescent moon gathered in a pine tree. A year later, my landlady did my astrology. Her five hour recording begins, thus;

“Jon. I have never seen a chart like yours, never knew it was possible. It begins where charts in theory begin, on the cusp of Pisces and Aries. For this reason I had to move up the time of your birth, or in theory, you were not born. As it is, now, you barely escaped being a virtual prisoner in this lifetime, that is, all the information you came here to share.”

She saw my death and affixed the date February 11, 1966 by the stars I described.

“What a beautiful day to die. The crescent moon is just rising from the sea pulling four planets behind her like a string of pearls.”

I have a Grand Cross in my chart. My mid-heaven falls on December 20th. which is today. This cross is like a bow and arrow, I poised to shoot the new information I gather, into the heavens.

I began to study the Bible for over twelve hours a day. I came to believe there was a virus in both books. When I discovered Harry Truman called himself Cyrus, who let the Jews return to Zion, and thus was a Messiah, I understood my mission. I began to post on founding a New Israel in America, because God had come to dwell here, and did not want to dwell in Israel any longer. Of course, everyone thought I was mad. Then, five years ago a man, a Jew, promised me an acre of land in South Carolina where my daughter, my grandson, and I may go to one day. This land may have belonged to my ancestors.

What is truly amazing, that the person who gifted me this land, is a descendant of King David and a Freemason, his ancestors founding the Scottish Rite that Harry Truman belonged to. These are the Zionist Jews that talked Harry into allowing a New Exodus. More astounding, it was Colonel Thomas Hart Benton who saved Albert Pike’s library during the Civil War, and thus Scottish Rite Masonry that contained information the President of the United states would behold. This is to say Truman had the right to say; “Let my people go!” when it came to his fellow Masonic Brothers.

Truman, a Freemason since 1909, had established the Grandview Lodge No. 618 in Missouri and served as its first “Worshipful Master”. In 1940, Brother Truman was elected the ninety-seventh Grand Master of Masons of Missouri. In 1945, President Truman was made a Sovereign Grand Inspector General, 33°, and Honorary Member at the Supreme Council of the Ancient & Accepted Scottish Rite (A.A.S.R.) Southern Jurisdiction Headquarters in Washington D.C.

In Arthurian legend, the Fisher King, or the Wounded King, is the latest in a long line charged with keeping the Holy Grail. Versions of his story vary widely, but he is always wounded in the legs or groin and incapable of moving on his own. The location of the wound is of great importance to the legend. In most medieval stories, the mention of a wound in the groin or more commonly the “thigh” (such as the wounding of the ineffective suitor in Lanval from The Lais of Marie de France) is a euphemism for the physical loss of or grave injury to one’s “manhood” (quite literally, the penis). In medieval time, acknowledging the actual type of wound was considered to have robbed a man of his dignity; thus, the use of the substitute terms groin or thigh, although any good medieval listener or reader would have known exactly the real nature of the wound. Not surprisingly, such a wound was considered worse than actual death as it signaled the end of a man’s ability to function in his primary purpose–the wielder of said part to propagate his line which then, in the instance of the Fisher King, negates his ability to honor his sacred charge with respect to the Grail. In the Fisher King legends, not only does he become impotent and unable to keep his task himself, but he also becomes unable to provide for a next generation to do so and his kingdom suffers as he does, his impotence affecting the fertility of the land and reducing it to a barren Wasteland. Little is left for him to do but fish in the river near his castle Corbenic and wait for someone who might be able to heal him. Not surprisingly, said healing would involve the expectation of the use of magic. Knights travel from many lands to heal the Fisher King, but only the chosen can accomplish the feat. This is Percival in earlier stories; in later versions, he is joined by Galahad and Bors.

Confusingly, many works have two wounded Grail Kings who live in the same castle, a father and son (or grandfather and grandson). The more seriously wounded father stays in the castle, sustained by the Grail alone, while the more active son can meet with guests and go fishing. For the purposes of clarity in the remainder of this article, where both appear, the father will be called the Wounded King, the son the Fisher King.

The Promised Land

“For his first birthday I promised my Grandson, Tyler Hunt, a kingdom. American
Democracy has awoken from the demonic spell put upon it. Let the celebration
On June 8, 2012, I got a call from a stranger, Samuel Josefa de Mattos, a
descendant of a famous Sephardic Jewish family. He said he had come across my
study on Rougeknights and said; “You appear to know more about my family then I

We talked about his ancestor, Francis Salvador who was killed by Indians. Samuel
said his kinfolk left the “Jews land” around the small town of Hodges due to the
hostile natives. The Rosamond family may have done the same, they moving to
Mississippi leaving their plantations behind. Did the de Mattos and the Rosmonds
know one another?

Samuel then informed me he had purchased sixty one acres near Plantation Point
that runs to the shore of Greenwood Lake. He had read about the “Jews land” the
Hodge family has once owned. He deliberately bought this land so it can be owned
by descendants of King David once again. I told Samuel about Samuel and James
Rosamond who fought under Francis Marion in the Revolutionary War. I asked for
permission to take my daughter and grandson to this land against owned by a
family whose genealogy is found in the Bible. Samuel replied;

“Jon, not only do you have my permission, but I am going to give you an acre of
this land!”

I felt faint. I could not believe what Samuel offered me, for it is the end of
my prophetic book, where I promise my grandson a kingdom, where I compare my
rosy story to the Sleeping Beauty Princess, named Rosamond. Here is the Return
of The King, in the Red Branch Knight prophecy to the Promised Land.
Here is what my great, great grandfather, James Rosamond says in his will;
To my three sons, Thomas, Benjamin, and Samuel, I leave the rest of my land; to
be divided equally amongst them and to be given to them as they come of age. I
allow my wife to have use of it while she lives, the tract of land that I now
live on. On her death, this land will be equally divided between Thomas,
Benjamin and Samuel.

That my acre will be next door to a descendant of King David whose kingdom the
Zionist Christians and Jews are trying to restore in Israel, is profound! In the
Peerage we read; Esther Montefiore is the daughter of Samuel Montefiore and
Grace de Mattos Mocatta.1 She married Judah Guedalla. This is the family of
Moses Montefiore whom Joaquin Miller built a pyramid monument to, suggesting he
was a moder day Moses! The new address of the New Promised Land is 339 Middleton
Road on the land known as Plantation Point. Was the Rosamond plantation located
I blessed Samuel and his family and when we said goodbye he called me “Brother”.
I then -emailed my good friend Mark Gall, whose Jewish mother always had a
reserved seat for me at her table at the resthome, and she only asked for me to
take her to the Synagogue. She saw something in my eyes when we first met.

On June 7th. I ran into my Jewish friend Ron Freedman. It turned out we knew
Alix whose father is Russian Jews and a neighbor of Mark. These are math
wizards. Mark was the head of the Department of Education at the University of

Here is the proof that God is speaking through me as I have alleged. This is not
my will, but His will. That God has sent another Prophet, is more important then
The Land, for without God, The Land is worthless. This is God’s Message to you!
“These graves are right along a paved road in the woods (I mean, the stones are
right along the road). This cemetery is in bad shape. No one is taking care of
it. It is over grown in weeds, trees and with poison oak and ivy everywhere.
David, Mark and I ventured out into the cemetery a little ways. Couldn’t go to
each stone because the poison oak & ivy is soooo thick. There aren’t many
stones. Some graves are marked with field stones and doesn’t have any writing on
them, and some of the field stones looked as those they had been chiseled on but
you couldn’t read it. “

The Resurrected Nazarite

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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