Jesus, the Antichrist

written by Henry Rivas Sucari


It is the fire who revives his doomed

Arthur Rimbaud

HE WAS THROWN TO THIS SUBURB to try to right the wrongs of the wildlife that governs all this immensity of rot, but that I love. I have taken, again, as man after nearly two thousand years. Now way, and my movements-before ethereal, fast, infinite-become slow, heavy and fragile. Even if a stone fell on his head I could possibly die or suffer for a long time. I can not believe that the mission would end. Worse, in my prison and end up feeling miserable.

It failed once, when I first arrived and I was called Jesus of Nazareth. I asked my father to give me a higher earthly origin. The Jews have always been hated by his weakness of spirit, but my father, who likes to honor its commitments (he had made with Abraham, Moses, David, Solomon), and although he often failed, met, and I'm humbled making me born in a manger, living in poverty, and, lastly, making hundreds of miracles that I eventually murdered as a pig in a cross and fixing me with a spear ultimándome in the rib.

And all the fucking punishment in vain. I founded the church has failed. The man always approach the evil, thanks to my father and his dirty tricks of domination, however, he does not understand that his game is cruel and gruesome, guided by his egotism, he blames me for everything.

I'm not revealed by ambition, as they say the false writings. For the literature of men, my first name was Lucifer, the handsome king of angels. My supposed rebellion was not an act of justice. My father is accustomed to play with his creations, his pride and vanity will drive to surrounding them with temptations to boast of his power. I protested against all those things, not only by man but by other beings, even for my brethren, the angels, timid and frightened children agreed. However, some in a moment surrounded me and I was right. Now purge penalties and corners marginal worlds, where his power is minimized to the will of the Supreme. My father could destroy with one blow of his power if he wanted, but as I like the game, I became man and gave me some gifts, then leave me alone in a cross with the sun smashing my face and my glory overshadowed by the mouth pain, humiliation and death. So I, I have blind faith in man, returning a second time, thrown to earth from my prison of lava and fire, to give me and give men a second chance. And I return with the conviction that I was reborn from the womb of a woman, but I, however, grown with the power of the divinity of my father, and abandoned, without preamble, from their domains to the wildlife in all its decline, but even the fear and insecurity flooded my veins, my will is stiff and I will fight for justice and hope that awaits me and my brethren of mankind, the angels, although my father has dismissed a Machiavellian smile, like a child who is happy to see another game.