“There’s Nothing Wrong With The Look That’s In Her Eyes”

I posted this, then took a break for two hours. I watched Rachel Maddow while eating dinner,  and heard the term “Roses of the world”. In my video of Belle, I mention Rosamond and the Rose of the World, then turn off my camera, because, I told Belle what the crux of my book ‘Capturing beauty’ is about. The Sleeping Beauty Princess if named Rosamond. I sent her several e-mails on Rosamundi when she gave me her e-mail and phone number at The Wandering Goat – when Belle (beauty) offered to edit my book for a fee. Belle asked me what was a good time to come over and model. When I discovered she concealed who she is, I nixed that session. This is not the behavior of a predetor – on my part. I can not say the same for Belle – and her friends – some who are advocate attorneys! In the video, one of them is watching us converse!

What keeps coming up, for me, is the idea that members of SLEEPS, had a natural right to remain ANONYMOUS. This idea was born with OCCUPY. There is no such right! This is my greatest OFFENSE that I needed to be punished for. I now want my attorney to get Belle’s attorney in a court of law, because these reeks of CONSPIRACY! Rose McGowan is subjected to what several women is the Lane County put me through, including gaslighting my neighbors. Even reporting on this evil experience will ruin my career. But, being a reporter for my newspaper ‘Royal ROSAMOND Press’ is still my priority.

When I say I love Belle, and always will, I do so because I refuse to live life on THIER terms. I speak of the Anarchists who won her soul. She is an anarchist! these creeps created a alternative reality. How about a alternative Legal System – that they wanted me to obey – or else!

In this post I state I wanted to nominated myself for the Pulitzer Prize. These two reporters won a Pulitzer. They had each other. I had no one in my corner. I know the better I make my case, the worse Belle (Beautiful) appears. I agonize over this. Where is THE LOVE in the Weinstein Circle of Molest? Even the victims appear to lack – LOVE! Their motive were not – PURE!

I wrote Belle this poem two hours of meeting her, with the knowledge she may never call me. It speaks of a famous public square, like the kind POTUS says are being degraded and destroyed by the homeless.  This poem is about real culture, and is not Hollywood.

John Presco



Special mention must be reserved for attorney Lisa Bloom, a longtime advocate for victims’ rights, who appears to have sold her soul for $895 an hour and the promise of a movie deal. In a memo printed here in full, she tells Weinstein, “I feel equipped to help you against the Roses of the world, because I have represented so many of them.” She recommends paying a company to trash McGowan’s Google results, discrediting her as a witness. (Bloom now calls her actions a “colossal mistake”.)

This is the place we all have to get  back to, or, life is not worth living. I just got off the phone with Marilyn Reed who is my first flame and muse, who is married to Jazz Drummer, Kenny Reed. This couple knows their music.

I just found out M made Nudie shirt knock-offs in L.A. The Reeds have been in my corner. I gave Belle M’s number as a reference. M and her choir ‘Inspirational Sounds’ will start a three month gig at the Jazz Station in downtown Eugene. For years, this reporter went to church to film Eugene’s longest performing musical group.



Hollis at McKenzie Meadows

I was surprised that Teresa and Hollis were good friends. Teresa was our manager at McKenzie Meadows, and now works at the corporate offices of Umbrella Properties. I had Hollis over for a Sunday Dinner, and the Duck Games. Teresa beamed at me, knowing someone else cared about Mr. H. Many hearts were broken when I found him dead. I put together a memorial after I adopted him, and paid for his funeral. We found two half-sisters a month later. I put his ashes alongside the McKenzie River.

Hollis is rolling over in his grave at hearing the vicious slander of Kim Hafner, who tells my neighbors I am mentally deranged and the worst neighbor anyone could have. To contact my daughter and share vicious gossip, and make up lies about my life at the McKenzie, is a outrageous invasion of my privacy.

KVAL News carried our inspiriting story.

John Presco


Mon Belle

A Rose Among The Woodwose

When I left Belle in Ken Kesey Square, I couldn’t wait to get home and look at our video. I am wondering why I did not ask her to dinner, or, bring her home with me. If I were twenty-four, I would have done both these things, then, took her to my bed! This is why I ran away her. On the onramp, I realized Belle may not call me, ever, and, I will never see her again! My heart is racing! I lost my chance! I open the window out shout down to her;


I am twenty-four again. These are the best hours of my life. I get home and do a quick sketch of Belle. Then I begin my epic poem to her, to show her, that she seriously inspires me. When we meet again. I wanted – proof!

Mon Belle

When I was a gifted youth
I do not recall if I studied the artist Sandro Botticelli.
When a man
I wrote my version of ‘The Birth of Venus’
and did a painting of my muse
coming out of the sea.

I must have neglected this great Renaissance Artist,
and his beloved Muse – until now!
But, Since I beheld her, my Belle
and compared her to Simonetta Cattaneo de Candia Vespucci,
do I now behold all the clues of the petals
and the thread
that have brought me through the labyrinth of time,
to adore her once again.

And she recognizes me!
Centuries ago I was buried at her feet
in order to continue my long vigilance,
for she was only asleep.
One day she will awaken, and the City of Flowers
will again bask in her unapparelled beauty.

Bella! Mon Belle!

Following the Renaissance of the Miller Brothers
to the top of the hill in the lost city of Fairmount,
I came to the crossroads of time.
When I saw the intersection of Flora and Fairmount,
I knew it would be a matter of days
before I was with my Sleeping Belle, once again,
once upon a time
She is the one I came here for.

After finding the lost tombstone of George Melvin Miller,
the founder of Florence,
I began to see the grand design.
When she came across the piazza de Keasy
while the minstrel sang a song by the Grateful Dead
‘Saint Stephen’
I had my rose at ready.
When I handed it to her
I heard the lovers complain
Where is my Belle Rose!

This is the Renaissance Rose
that my ancestor employed to write his name,
When I told Belle what kind of work I do,
I described my painting of a woman coming out of the sea.
Many have asked me who she is. Now, I can say;
“She is Belle, the most beautiful woman in Florence.”
We will go there, soon,
to behold the sea, a shell, and the foam

In 1475
at La Giostra
a jousting tournament was held at the Piazza Santa Croce.
The gallant knight, Giuliano
entered the field bearing a banner
on which was a picture of Simonetta as a helmeted Pallas Athene
Her image was painted by Botticelli himself.
Underneath was the French inscription
La Sans Pareille, meaning “The unparalleled one”.

From then on Simonetta became known
as the most beautiful woman in Florence,
and later
the most beautiful woman of the Renaissance.

Simonetta Vespucci
I salute thee!

Jon Presco


Capturing Beauty – The Movie


John Presco

Copyright 2019

Two days ago I was going to nominate myself for the Pulitzer Prize for Journalism, because I realized I had captured the core members of SLEEPS with my little camera, and, I dod not give up reporting on a ongoing story abut the homeless. Belle Burch was the first. Then Alley Valkyrie, then Ambrose Holthem-Keathley. When I did this capturing, I was frightened. I was afraid when I crossed the street after seeing what looked like homeless people in Ken Kesey Square. After finding my homeless friend dead in his bed in the appartment I and Hud-Vash helped get him into, the 911 operator asked me to feel for a pulse. When I did, I considered I was breaking the Nazarite Vow I took. The 911 operator then asked me to take Hollis off hs bed, put him on the floor and minister CPR.

“You want me to put my mouth on his?”


“I don’t think this will help. He’s very cold!”

When I wrote this, I used Hollis and I as a model. For a little while, there was just the two of us in his bedroom. We were not lovers. I loved Hollis, and I believe he loved me. With the vile news our President is using the homeless to hurt his perceive enemies, and at the same time appear more Grand t his Christian followers – and Jewish Voters – alas I have a forum, a group of elected Lawmakers to take my story to, and perhaps get Justice against those who terrorized me, slandered me, promised me that would destroy me and my newspaper. Yes, they wanted to see me stop loving some homeless people. They wanted me to shut up. They loved oppressing me.

My neighbore broke the Ten Commandments – then mocked me. They laughed ate me – with utter joy! The Mayor and City Council of Eugene ignored my complaint against Councilerperson, Emily Semple who knew of thie conspiracy to deny me My Civil Rights and Liberty. How they could do this, had to behinged upon their belief I was a dirty OLD MAN and leature who preyed on young women. How about inderage girls. Their belief was one of convenience, because they didn’t have a solution for the homeless problem either. God knows Idid my best. My solution was……….to love them! This is what I set out to do when I entered Ken Kesey, and, in a mintute fell in love with Belle Burch, at first sight. She too in a modle for my novel ‘The Royal Janitor;

An Ending

“I am going to kiss you now. Victoria opened her mouth just enough to match the beautiful open mouth of Miriam. She placed her lips upon her lips, as one would put a rose upon a freshly dug grave.

She was – right here, right there. And now she is somewhere else. But, not for me. My chance, our chance, is gone -so completely. How utterly unbearable, my being. So alone, all alone. Without her. I am left on the living side of death. Here, I must make my way.

I walk alone along the road. But I will never be alone. For thou art with me my love, on that road that runs on the dark side of the moon. You will go with me, her Lord, when I am in most need of her to be by my side. For she is with you, now. She knows the way.

John Presco

Copyright 2018

John Presco

When was the last time Hollis kissed a woman? He lived under a bridge. The sad lament for the homeless has been going on – FOREVER! It has been a huge problem – long before Jesus was born. There were homeless people in the streets of Rome. Many ancient cities were looking for a solution, and, moral permission to be charitable. Then the Septuagint was published, they found it in the commands of the God of the Jews. Civic minded peope – were amazed! Their god never ordered farmers and owners of fruit trees to not pick, or, reap all the harvest;

‘I am a stranger and an alien residing among you; give me property among you for a burying place, so that I may bury my dead out of my sight.’
Genesis 23:4

You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.
Deuteronomy 10:19

The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.
Leviticus 19:34

‘Cursed is anyone who withholds justice from the foreigner, the fatherless or the widow.’ Then all the people shall say, ‘Amen!’
Leviticus 27:19

When they were few in number, of little account, and strangers in the land, wandering from nation to nation, from one kingdom to another people, he allowed no one to oppress them; he rebuked kings on their account, saying, ‘Do not touch my anointed ones; do my prophets no harm.’

I paid for Hollis’s funeral after the Army was going to put “INDIGENT” on his record. They were going to put him in the ground with honors. They gave me flag after I adopted my dear friend. The President of the United States has nothing on me -or Hollis! We did our duty. I did not serve in the military. I was drafted. At a standdown Hollis asked a legal representative if I was a Vet, because I was officially in the service when I was drafted. The verdict is still out on this matter. Was Trump drafted? We are the same age. Many homeless people – are veterans! Uusing Veterans to detory the perceived enemis of the Evangelical Rapture – is fucking insane! Jesus said this is the greates commandment;

“Love one another!”

Trump has no love for the homeless. How can Christianity turn their back and pretend they do not see? Who saw, that all this, was coming, was, going West? This BAD NEWS is in the Emerald Valley. The Devil is at our gate! If the President comes to Oregon with  bunch of foreign games in his pocket, to play – We will practice State Rights!


Former Secretary of State Rex Tillerson said Wednesday that Israeli officials “played” President Donald Trump in their conversations with him, warning that a “healthy amount of skepticism” is needed in dealings with Israel’s prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu.

In the last thrity-two years I have made love to one women, my daughter’s mother. Before that I loved, and lived with a ex-prostitute who danced nude in a famous saloon in  New Orleans. We both were terrible alcoholics. We tore each other up. We had to break up – for the last time. Laurie got into AA a year before I did.

I saw the History of Hank Williams and his wife Audrey. They fought all the time. Hank was hitting the whisky and writing the most profound literature in American History. His songs were from that world, from his days of wine and roses. Then, he saw the light…………..for a little while. Then, he died on a very lonely stretch of road in a the middle of the night. They showed that road.

Hank died utderly alone but for the seventeen year old boy he paid to be his shaurfer. I saved my life with the help of my brothers and sisters in AA. Am I liucky to be alive? Am I lucky I am still writing for my newspaper? I got a church to be the minister of! Then, I got some painting to do – masterpeices!

As an old man, I wondered if I would ever fall in love again. When I beheld Belle, my heart skipped a beat – several times. Scientists have studied what causes this. In hindsight, when I entered Kesey Square,  I entered a Saloon, and, there she was. When Belle hid her true identity from me, I was on the brink of chaos. I met many beautiful women in bars, and had their names written on pieces of paper – put in a cigar box – to prove it. Otherwis, my blackouts had erased my memory of them. I could have taken their beatuful bodies home with, but, in the morning I would not remember…….making love. I would not remember their names. I was living a very lonely existence. I was………..terrified!

You can see that terror in Hank’s eyes. He tried to quit, many times, and failed. He knew he was a doomed man. For awhile he was more popular than Jesus. He carried the cross for many. When Belle asked me in a e-mail to talk about getting sober, I became suspicious. Members of SLEEPS – needed what I got – because they were all users! There was a $400,000 dollar donation waiting for some group. Did they get asked about what they are going to do about the Disease of Alcoholism – and they needed my testimony? This is typical of a user who – can’t quit! Only as a last resort, will they try.

So, I heard the songs coming from the human-homeless Juke Box. Look closely, and see Belle make slight movements that said;

“Do you want to dance!”

I think I will learn how to make a movie from my videos. Let me give it a try by stariting, here………..I want to splice this into the sad Russian song, in a loop. Belle is playing at Bolshevik Author. I knew this was going to do deep, deeper than she knew. This video is a work of art. My model to be, did not allow me to photograph her. I disobeyed! I knew she was a………..Beautiful Schemer. Sounds like a song.

I will always love Belle. Always.

She wore scarlet begonias tucked into her curls
I knew right away she was not like other girls, other girls
In the heat of the evening when the dealing got rough
She was too pat to open and too cool to bluff
I picked up my matches and was closing the door
I had one of those flashes I’d been there before, been there before
Well, I ain’t always right but I’ve never been wrong
Seldom turns out the way it does in a song
Once in a while you get shown the light
In the strangest of places if you look at it right
Ain’t nothing wrong with the way she moves
Scarlet begonias or a touch of the blues
And there’s nothing wrong with the look that’s in her eyes
Had to learn the hard way to let her pass by, let her pass by
Had to learn the hard way to let her pass by, let her pass by

I have walked into some very bad-ass bars in my life, but, never encountered a Mad Dog like Alley Valkyrie. Oregon still is……..The Wild West………..and Trump just blew intoto town, to really stir shit up! Will Alley fly home from Paris?

I would have never known Belle was leading a double life if she hadn’t sent me her Piriate Poem informing me she was a Honky-Tonk Woman who liked to eat and party in the downtown, where I found my Old Honky-Tonk bars still ticken in Oakland, with stabbings, and shootings. John Lee Hooker. Roy Orbeson, Hank Williams. America had some hard banging souls. Some gritty muels, and pigs out by the barn. And we had our radicals, our preacher men, our share of child prophets – hitten the Honky-Tonk Road!

Sure I wanted to play some more, put on my tux coat, and kick my boots up on a bar table. Sexy women. Sure love to play, and play, and play, all night long.

“You see, your honor, it was she who wheeled me in. She stuck her tongue out ant me, and, it was showtime!”

I did my drinken and the ol Golden West, with my friends who star in my first novel. The Gideon Computer begins at the Will Roger’s Hotel. I am a sucker for bald women in tiled hotel bathrooms. I wanted Belle to help me finish these very long poem. And she did, And she does. And, she will again – oh Lord!

I pushed you away my darling Clementine, because I was terrified of grabbing you by your waist, with one hand, and going for my next beer, with the other.

I’m so sorry I hurt you. So sorry I made you cry.





Threat From Alley Valkyrie

alleyv7Here is the threat I received from Alley Valkyrie ten months ago. I did not know her. Belle did not tell me to stop calling her or write about her until after I received this threat that was carried out.

“I’m going to make this very simple for you. I don’t know if you know who I am, but I sure as hell know who you are, and when you fuck with my friends, you fuck with me. Stop writing about Belle or I am going to make your life very difficult. I mean it. If I see one more word about her on your blog, your FB, or anywhere else, I will make sure that you experience all the fear and discomfort that she is experiencing right now. And no, this isn’t a physical threat, so don’t try to play victim. Frankly, I encourage you to contact EPD, as they already know all about you. I will not do anything illegal, but mark my word you will regret it if you write one more word about her. I will make sure that the entire community knows exactly how much of a sick fuck you are. Your picture, your name, and “samples” of your writing will be posted on every bulletin board in town. There will not be a single person in the Eugene/Springfield area who won’t know that you’re a sick stalker who won’t leave a stalker who won’t leave a young girl alone. Cut it out. Now. This is your first, last, and only warning.”

More Threats From Alley Valkyrie

kens9 kens15 kens20

I told Belle and Alley Valkyrie I am a registered newspaper in Lane County, and I owe it to my peers not to cave to threats and demands. These threats were carried out, and Alley posted on the Mayor of Eugene’s Facebook disgraceful slander. On Alley’s facebook I read physical threats made by her friends. Not one word have I removed. I am in solidarity with the People of France and Paris.

Jon Presco

“Please, go ahead and blog my threat.
You have no fucking idea what you’re getting yourself into
You also have no idea how many people are already on to you, and how many people have my back. We also have six other mutual friends who are going to learn about your behavior ASAP
And just so you know as well: if you write anything about me that could be construed as defamatory, you will be hearing from my lawyers ASAP.”

Alley Valkyrie posted to ‎Kitty Piercy

This man’s name is John Gregory Presco, DOB 10/8/1946. He lives in Springfield, Oregon.

He frequents Eugene, especially the Whiteaker neighborhood, and regularly shows up at activist events. He is a stalker, a harasser, and an obsessed de…lusional sicko.

If you need a concrete example of his behavior and why I am posting this, his delusional writings can be found at https://rosamondpress.wordpress.com/

If you see him in your neighborhood, on the street, or anywhere, call him out. Expose him. Make it known that you will not accept and tolerate someone who harasses and obsesses over young women in our community. This man is a very sick individual. Anyone who deliberately makes women feel unsafe should not be tolerated in this or any community.



As I was walkin’ ’round Grosvenor Square
Not a chill to the winter but a nip to the air
From the other direction, she was calling my eye
It could be an illusion, but I might as well try, might as well try
She had rings on her fingers and bells on her shoes
And I knew without askin’ she was into the blues
She wore scarlet begonias tucked into her curls
I knew right away she was not like other girls, other girls
In the heat of the evening when the dealing got rough
She was too pat to open and too cool to bluff
I picked up my matches and was closing the door
I had one of those flashes I’d been there before, been there before
Well, I ain’t always right but I’ve never been wrong
Seldom turns out the way it does in a song
Once in a while you get shown the light
In the strangest of places if you look at it right
Ain’t nothing wrong with the way she moves
Scarlet begonias or a touch of the blues
And there’s nothing wrong with the look that’s in her eyes
Had to learn the hard way to let her pass by, let her pass by
Wind in the willow’s playin’ “Tea For Two”
The sky was yellow and the sun was blue
Strangers stoppin’ strangers just to shake their hand
Everybody’s playing in the heart of gold band, heart of gold band

About Royal Rosamond Press

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