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Memo To All Christians

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B.A.FrémauxSoormally
#1 B.A.FrémauxSoormally bafremauxsoormally@yahoo.co.uk 2011-12-04 11:20
THE WEST LIES ABOUT ALMOST EVERYTHING! THE CHRISTIAN CHURCHES IF THEY WANT TO SERVICE SHOULD STOP PEDDLING LIES BECAUSE BY DOING THIS THEY MADE THEMSELVES THE INSTRUMENTS OF SATAN

First, they said they crucified Jesus for which they have no evidence at all. Now, they are crucifying the Palestinian people, Jesus' ancestors, and we have all the evidence required to prove the present day PALESTINIAN HOLOCAUST carried out jointly by modern Pharisees and Christian apostates and assassins.

THERE IS A CURSE ON ISRAEL. CHRISTIANS BETTER KEEP AWAY OR THEY WILL JOIN THEM IN THE CURSE AS WELL!

SYLVIA STOLZ AND THE ARMENIAN CURSE ON ISRAEL (Thursday, 17 November 2011)

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CONCLUSION: THE DEATH OF ISRAEL!

“THE CURSE If it is anything but a small consolation, everyone I have spoken to in recent days has been highly critical of Israel. It is understandable that the US administration has done nothing to prevent or stop this outrage, but the indifference of the Europeans is harder to fathom. In any case, the damage is done. A wonderful country has been wilfully destroyed. It might recover, one day. There is a spot just north of Beirut, a gorge through which flows the Nahr el Kalb (the River of the Dog). From Antiquity, it became a tradition for conquerors passing through Lebanon to carve their names on the stony walls of the river bank. Assyrian kings, Egyptian Pharaohs, Greek and Roman generals and the more modern armies (such as the nostalgic Régiment de Marche du Tonkin of the French Army). Tourist guides loved to show them to visitors and say: "they all came, they all went, but we are still here"). Maybe, Insh'allah, they will still be there again. In the meantime, I am putting an old Armenian curse on the State of Israel and all those who sail in her, adding that if God
elected that as the country of his chosen people, I do not know who is the schmuck who gave Him the voting bulletin. The Armenian Curse is very effective but secret, though I can tell you that compared to its consequences, the Seven Plagues of Egypt appear as harmless as an old ladies' bridge afternoon.”
Armen Kouyoumdjian

“… when Armenian survivors of the 1915 Genocide arrived in the Lebanon, itself in the midst of a famine and other difficulties, the local authorities built an entire village (Anjar) to house as many as they could. The Armenians owe the Lebanese, and in fact Arabs in general, a debt which can never be repaid enough.”
Armen Kouyoumdjian

“Above all this (Lebanon) was the most hospitable country and people to have ever
roamed the earth.”
Armen Kouyoumdjian

PART 4 (THE GLOBAL BOLSHEVIK FASCIST STATE)

By B.A. Frémaux-Soormally (At the request of Ghyslaine ROC)

Tuesday 10th of November 2009, my second grand daughter Aïshah’s third birthday. How many like these little angels the criminal Jews, Communists and Christians are killing everyday, including pregnant mothers? But, as for me, I will never get involved in “peace processes”, UN Resolutions, “Human Rights”, public demonstrations, or the Court of Shaytaan. Also, I do not believe in curses, so better nobody touches a hair on the head of my loved ones … “from my cold dead hands”!)

Posted on “Palestinian Mothers” by Ghyslaine ROC

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B.A.FrémauxSoormally
#2 B.A.FrémauxSoormally bafremauxsoormally@yahoo.co.uk 2011-12-04 11:41
IT DOES NOT LOOK THAT ANY CHRISTIAN VISITS ASCERTAIN THE TRUTH!

But, I am sure that many do read. So, I am posting the following link for anyone who might be passing by.

Tuesday, 23 September 2008
JESUS, THE MESSENGER OF LIGHT.

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JESUS, THE MESSENGER OF LIGHT.

Cosmic Poetry by Adriana Evangelizt


I remember a country

Bursting of light that dazzled my eyes
A country where the morning mist
Wrapped around the countryside

Like a celestial hijaab...
Where one could hear chanting voices of that Elsewhere
That I had to leave
In order to incarnate into a man...
I came from so far away

From so far away...

Painting by Wojtek Siudmak

It cost me so much lo leave my Palestine.

I knew beforehand my earthly destiny

Drawn by a fatal finger

By perverted men…

Loved by the smallest,

Hated by the greatest.

And so many deaf, so many blind,

So many ignorant people

Who would remain impervious to my Teaching,

And would not fathom

The sparkling mystery buried

In the very heart of my Parables…


I remember a country

With scorching sun

Where my feet carried me

On the dusty paths…

Of a country

With an overpowering atmosphere,

Where the crowd was waiting for me by the River Jordan…


So many desperate people!

So may suffering hearts!

So many ailments to heal,

And I, all alone… so alone… so alone,

Preaching in the wind!

Having become only a maker of miracles,

A healer of the body

When I was only a healer of the soul…

But, how to tell them

That they shelter the key to their deliverance

Deep inside themselves?

How to explain to them

That the perishable flesh is only superficial?


I remember a country

Where burning flames danced in women’s glances;

Where their eyes sometimes clung

So brightly to mine;

Where a glimpse of possible happiness emerged…


I could have chosen another burden…

I could have, me too, a companion,

And put my life

In the hollow of her hands…

Nothing was easier for the human that I was,

Really nothing…

It took me time

To follow the Path

Of the wise Nazarean…

So, I took the very cold road leading to exile.

I had to experience loneliness, cold and hunger

In order to evaluate my courage

And strenghthen my faith.


Heading for the desert

Forty days and forty nights

Alone with myself…

And then in a grotto.

Some dried figs,

A trickle of a stream…

And my exalted soul

Merging with the stars

In blueish ecstacy

Watching for the heavenly reply…

Do Thee grant me the right to live as a man

Or do I have but the choice

Only to die on the Cross?

Tell me Father… Oh, please, tell me…


I remember a country

Where the screams of lambs escaped out of the temples

Driving me to tears…

Where the blood of the sacrificed rams

Did not remove the ills

Of the dragging along invalids,

And the creeping lepers

In the half blind roadlets

Of the ill reputed quarters of Jerusalem…

Oh Jerusalem… Jerusalem…

You who kills the innocent

And stones the prophets…

Looking at you I have understood

The evil that gnaws at you,

But, you preferred it

To the good I was bringing to you…


I remember a country

Where the rich prayed while wallowing in gold,

Killed animals in order to kill their conscience,

Applied a cruel law

That was not the Original Law…

But, ignored the misery of the People.

Who was it that god they believe in?

Who was this barbaric and bloodthirsty Yahweh

Who feasted on crime?

Was it really this that you call God?

Painting by Mark Harrison


The god of Moses was he so different from mine?

Or else… have THEY betrayed his Message?

Or else…the Impostors have they confused him

With one of their idols

They brought home from Egypt?


I remember a country

Where I used to stretch my hands in order to heal.

A country lost in false beliefs

That I wanted to enlighten by my Teaching…

Replace vengeance by Love.

Acting instead of making speeches.

But, the Sacerdotal Princes

Did not want to give the Truth to men…


They preferred enslaving the People

Under the yoke of ignorance.

Letting them alone carry

The burden of sufferings…

They preferred the Law an eye for an eye

To that of forgiveness,

And judge the Innocent in order to hide their Deceit,

And kill Light in order for Falsehood to live.


I remember a country

Where there was thunder… on a certain evening…

During a last supper between friends,

A strange scene that Last Supper!

And they, all seated around me,

Not understanding the meaning of my message.

From the naïve Peter to the beloved John…

Here…take, my brothers,

This bread I am giving you…


And remember me

When I will be gone

Because I need to go…

Here…drink my brothers…

The good wine of the vine…

You have the best part,

I keep for myself the bitter chalice

That I have to empty up to the sediment

Oh my Father… my Father…

How long it was that night scrutinising the stars

To find your presence in this extremely cold desert…!

Alone… so alone… and not a single one to help me

Lighten the burden of my ordeal…!

Not a single one to share the heavy sacrifice

You have lain upon me…!

And, the more time went by,

The more my heart was shattered

By so much indifference…

Alone.. so alone… with my pain

And the tears from my soul running down my face…!


I remember a country

Where I preached in the desert

Even with my disciples…

Have they grasped my message

On that evening ?

Have they sensed my ordeal

And the symbolical meaning

Of Judas’ kiss to the betrayed friend…?


I recall the sense of a great sadness

In the garden of Gethsemane

Alone… so alone…

The apostles all asleep…

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