Prologue:
This was meant to be the sequel to the book: “Angelic Renegades & Rephaim Giants.” The Rephaim Giants, whom were the offspring, or hybrid of the Watchers, which was done for the most part in poetic form and represents a short novel; the author he could present the best impression that way, that being, more on the emotional, symbolic scale his images, impressions of them.
This sequel is done was done in both poetic prose form; now put into poetic prose for the first time, and a vast amount is being left out [two sections]. The story represents a vision the author had. There were angelic beings given the task by God to watch over earth, did just that for a while, then two-hundred of them took it upon themselves to go down to earth and co-habituate with the human female gender, in so doing they chose a most dreadful fate, to be buried alive in the pit of the abyss, within the bowls of the earth.
Their off spring [children] was the giants of the Old Testament, Genesis Chapter 6, and also presented in the Pseudepigrapha, in the book of Enoch, written about 200 BC. No one is sure when the time period of this first started, but these giants of old were called the Rephaim Giants. Eventually they would meet their fate, by killing off one another in wars. Then came the flood, and your guess is as good as mine, what happened to them.
In my first book I took a visionary journey, within the story called: “Meeting of the Watchers.” Now you may be saying, where these Nefilim angelic warlords come into play; and especially how does one link them to the other.
Well, as you most likely know, God works things out in accordance to his laws, which I put into place a long time ago. That is to say, one of my visions, which I wrote about in the book: “The Last Trumpet and the Woodbridge Demon,” is about these Nefilim angelic beings also. The Nefilim angels were before and at present the Watchers, although being from the same stock. But I didn’t go on a journey like I did with Serr’el, to meet the Watchers in this quest of sorts. I simple went on a journey in which I got caught up in, and maybe was not suppose to, in their space craft, and out of wanting to know, stayed within this vision, not letting go, and some times, things just work out surprisingly for you. And this is what I’m about to share with you.
I was kind of like looking through a porthole. And I wasn’t taken back in time like I was with the Watchers, some 13,000-years. I was in the present, and so where they; or so it seemed. Again, there are no birthrights here. For the Watchers may even have slid over to the Nefilim quest, before they were sent to the abyss, and could be living today on some far off planet waiting to visit us: for Armageddon, or perhaps they will start it. This is what my vision was about, the Nefilim. Even though the Shinning Ones are involved, and what are they doing up there, was my quest, to find out. These were no aliens my friends. These are powerful angelic forces, although the Shinning Ones seem to have some kind of angelic-humanistic link. Meaning, the Watchers and the Nefilim are from the same sphere (I think); and may go on journeys together, but they do not think alike completely: similar to the space program between Russia and the United States, it could be: in a far fetched way. Whatever may be, we all share the same God, like it or not. We just all think we got our hands in His pockets, thus, no room for the others.
This story or combination of facts, vision, dream, some travel involved (Easter Island), over time: 1980s, and 90s and the new century: put me on a space ship, in l984. Although it took me close to twenty years to put it into in story form, it is ripe for the picking right now: in 2002 it was written, and in January 2006, it is revised, or reedited, more on the latter than the first: for there was really not a thing to revise but the style in presenting it to you. There were twelve-beings; six were angelic, the other six of an unknown species [I call the Shinning Ones]. But I do have hypotheses to this historical-visionary fictional story. Having said that let me take you into their world, and my image, visualization, or call it dream-vision;
It was l984:
The Nefilim: Angelic Warlords
[And the Shinning Ones]
Poetic Prose
The Space Ship
[A Dream Vision]
I noticed a spaceship high in the sphere observing earth —it couldn’t see me, I thought, but perhaps it could. Activities— a white dote, that’s all it was, for the moment; I wondered what they looked like, inside that space craft (from where I was standing, watching, observing on flat dirt), underneath their helm; “…what do they look like?” I questioned my mind, or perhaps it questioned me, as if I was what they were thinking.
There were twelve-beings inside this space craft: call it second sight, if you like: likened to a large arena… it was inside; caught in our atmosphere like a mouse-trap, or akin to a fly to a spider’s web. It was, round and spacious, half of these creatures were wearing white suites, the other half, lit the space they walked, as if—if they were on fire, likened to a glow from the moon, I call them: the Shinning ones.
The ones in the white suites, their heads were shaped like dogs in coffin, plastic coffin goon, but tall and strong looking. Slowly they walked as if death had no rights; I suppose I should admit they got my attention, these space suites and all, and the Shinning Ones, but I wanted to be among them.
Yes, oh yes, it had its own reality, different than mine, I could tell, as I transposed my mind to their mind, as if I was lead on top of their heads, they didn’t know I was there, in their space, in their spacecraft, half spirit, half alive, still standing on earth’s ground, still looking at them, now amongst them, in some kind of shadow bubble.
I now was there, there I say, there: standing like a soldier, in the throne room of a spaceship; a ship that never was, or at least, it seemed it was never. A dream, makings of a dream, but real it seamed, as if I was a step beyond, fiction, and in reality, one in another dimension. —It was less than real, but better for my mind to believe that, so my subconscious said.
“Wake up! Wake Up!! “I told myself yet I couldn’t almost, but couldn’t, wouldn’t, dare not—what for, my mind wanted to go on a longer journey. This, my friend, was not, not a dream!! The—Angelic force had on white dog-shaped space suites. I repeat, White….
“Awe,” I cried, “There are Baboons inside them suites. “ How foolish can one be, so I said to me? I told myself, “Baboons.” I stood still, as if they could see me, but they couldn’t of course, I was, like they were to earthlings, invisible.
As I looked about the ship, around and around, I noticed these beings were very tall; I also notices holes, big round windows, that looked like portholes, that peered here and there, everywhere, and especially now, especially down onto, upon earth. The white plastic coated monsters walked slowly, in dolce, cigarette machine: flat unemotional stride; from a distance, the Shinning Ones looked like robots, somewhat pre occupied.
What was their quest, I asked—me, but nobody heard, not even my inquisitive subconscious, for it didn’t’ question me beyond looking: yet, I felt they were the ancestors of stones, perchance those old stones, perhaps those on standing stones on Easter Island that look out and up, high into the sky, out into the frozenness of a past-time, ready to become beings again. Otherwise, what were these statues waiting for? So I asked myself. Yes, oh yes, maybe these people, these: whatever you want to call them, a lost tribe in forbidden time; now coming back to still, what it lost (perhaps)?
Another…landmark in time like Atlantis, so this was, I told myself: there I go again, more foolishness, thinking out loud with no one to disagree with me: like having a dead horse by your side and kicking it to let you know you’re alive, and who can disagree with you? Not the dead. Enough said, they didn’t seem too busy, these ancient creatures, up till now anyhow, they all seemed to be in a state of: no time wasted on idle chatter, but no hurry; so it seemed, so it was yet, there awareness of what each other wanted, and the system of the space craft, was all in tack. An angelic thing, or intuition, I gather.
Maybe a demon thing, maybe nothing, nothing at all, maybe I can get out of this dream, and not have to write a damn thing, but here I am nonetheless, writing it. I think they feel me, sense me; like one senses love, death. Like one has a third eye, but no one knows where it’s hidden; this was really happening. Not like I was taken back in time. Only taken up to a…whatever this is…space ship of sorts, in a buddle of some sort, “I’m watching you,” and they’re watching Earth.
I heard one say: “Israel, the Great Circle.” Another says, Avalon, “The New Jerusalem.” I am not sure if I was saying hearing it right so many echoes in this invisible chamber—a bubble of silence at times, and having to read their minds, or absorb their defusing talk: which I call: Cadaverous Talk, the Devils walk… —heaven knows it’s draining. But now I was in their ship, a bubble in a ship, trying to see where I belonged, where all this was leading. Where is my map? I am talking to myself again, and no one to talk to but the membrane of the bubble I’m in.
“Serr’el, where are you?” it’s my angelic friend, protector of sorts. He was at the hospital when I had my heart attack, the stroke, back in ‘92. He was there, also in Vietnam, when the plane went down, in ‘70. Oh, yes, he was always around. By my side when I met the Watchers in a book I wrote some time ago, back in a dream quest, about l982; and again he was there when I was on Easter Island, awhile back, when the spiritual forces in the stones tried to nerve me out of their ruins. But where is he now, right this moment.
The second group of six, I call them “The Shinning Ones,” they shine like flames from the Sun… I’ve learned their history… it goes back to earth…75,000 BC.
(Thoughts) If I had no form, I would put on those plastic suites, just a thought, loose talk; suites, I knew they were not the Watches, the Ancient Angelic Renegades; nor the Rephaim Giants, the Watcher’s children perhaps, of Enoch’s time, when Noah was still young, in his prime. They had all been killed, buried alive, in the abyss of the pit, these ancient ones of a lost time.
Some went home to the Golan Heights, where they still live, others children of Og, the giants of Malta, or perhaps the ancestors of the demons of the Tor. Who were these? Observatory beings I kept saying, guessing trying to decipher in this bubble of sorts.
(More thoughts) Were we plants to them? Or rocks to look at? Certainly not human beings, as I see it, no, oh no: we, I, were, is: just things: circles in evaluation, wishful thinking.
(Observations) As I looked around their spaceship, I came to the conclusion, they were checking out different geological locations on earth. Landmarks, old and new, Israel from the heavens, Egypt from the Sea, Washington they flew by, over like a breeze; and China they could see people reading a world event; something that just happened, perhaps was going to happen. They searched and searched, as if they were mortal enemies of the earth, the skies, old and new living things; envious of earth’s atmosphere.
Searching the Ship
As I searched the ship, its hauls, rooms nearby, I never seemed to leave the observation area, not sure why; I whispered, asked myself: ‘…am I walking in circles?’ They were looking through devices. The ship standing still at times; and at times faster than the eye it flew like a raging eagle.
(Old Thoughts): I had heard of the return of such beings that had visited earth. Coming back several times (13,500 BC; 4500 BC; 1073 BC, and now, AD l984, as I’m writing this: I see); (Thoughts): and I’m sure they are up there now, AD 2002. I have not seemed them in almost twenty years, or a little less, it was in ‘82. I wonder way (?) Now revising my poetic prose (this story): in January of 2006: some say these wee the Shinning Ones, all twelve; I say both, the Nefilim, and the other. I say, they came, and they left, and will come back again.
Number One
(More thoughts) One of the beings seemed to be the leader, I call him simply ‘Number One,” (likened to a First Sergeant in the Army I suppose)) in lack of a better name)). He stood there thinking, as if he was working out a plan; trying to tie things together. His mind was busy. His arms huge, like a donkey’s tail, a monkey’s limbs, something like that; nevertheless, he didn’t move slowly, he was swift: oh yes, even with the white shell of plastic armor on, flexible indeed, likened to the Lone Ranger, or Zorro or some hidden superhero, I wanted to see inside his mask, his shell, to see his face again—for curiosity’s sake; it perturbed, akin to a dogs beak. It troubled me, troubled me so: how on earth would he eat: meat, or me, if he could; so again, deep within my thoughts, I asked myself this: how could it be: but I suppose not everybody eats like me: does the devil? I knew now, but I didn’t know then. He had a black—area around his chin, like that of whales, he was proud with sin. But again I asked myself and answered: does the dead eat? Or the ghosts, or the devil, or God Himself; nor do any of these need sleep. Thus, the question was answered for me, by me: or was my friend around, feeding my mind?
I told myself I would not leave this ship until I found out, why: what I should say was happening. Unless this vision ended before I could. And it may. At this point to me, they were merely a white object spinning like a dot in the sky, and I hitched a ride; at the moment, no more than this.
(Observations): as looked about more, I saw planets on the spacecraft’s monitors; and as time went by, we past a few in the heavens I could see through the window ports. How long was I on this ship I asked myself?
What dimension was I in, at 76,000,000 mph, in 3.125? I witnessed Mars, a comet fly by; a space shuttle of sorts, how fast did the gages read, 489,600 Kilometers, and that doubled.
Notes from the author’s journal: Some of this story was written while on my way to Lima, Peru, and Santiago, Chile, 2002. But the concept of the Nefilim came about while doing research on some of my other books, into the Rephaim Giants, and Angelic Renegades, also called the Watchers; a some fragments of dreams pertaining to them, and visions I had in l984. In, 2002, I stumble over an old article in a magazine I read, then had did some more research into the mystery of these ancient angelic beings; on my second trip to Chile, I went to Easter Island. Thus putting all of this together, and creating this story. And now in 1/2006, revising it to fit its time; unlike my book: “Angelic Renegades and Rephaim Giants,” this story has never been published: but again the visions and notes go back to 1983-l984. Perhaps it could be a small sequel. You are only getting one third of the story, the other two thirds are in prose, completely. And are other fragments of the same nature as the first which is not necessary to the fullness of this story, yet it is not complete; that being, part two and three. What they were looking for I think is in part three. In part two I remain on a ship, and see some things very strange if not unsettling to me; infants being hybrid in incubators, and mothers in glass rooms with them. Perhaps the first part was to show me the ship general make up, calm me down. And the second was to show me what they were doing on board, and the third hovered over Mexico City, as it did others places, but they wanted something, a skull to be specific [Teotihuacán]. If I find time, I will try to do the other two parts, if I find people want to read it, find out about it. If not, it is fine where it rests.
Summer Poems, War Poem, Beautiful Poem, Inspirational Poem.... 
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