"inquisitors" poems
one for the delirious,
the inquisitors equipped,
loose lips,
loose grip.
loose lips,
loose grip.
the truth is the troops
are lost in the loops,
of houdini moves,
from those fools,
those fools,
those fools.
oh what can we do,
to break through to the justice.
alas, alas,
the rustic handshake.
not much comrade,
not much.
combat,
contrast,
combat,
contrast,
those stage show motions,
we slept on the stage,
we slept on our opponents.
i’m broken,
i’m broke.
broke.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 4:36 PM UTC
What happened to the dandies
Those gentlemen of the grandest Culture
Destroyers of dreaded boundaries
Mockers of meaningless morality
Inquisitors of a profound lack of imagination
Guardians of good taste
Messengers of modernity
What happened to those 19th century hipsters
Who so gracefully dissected Society
And whose wit and wisdom
Shook the foundations
Of mainstream hypocrisy
Of inept intellectualism
And lamentable lies
We are in dire need of retrieving
The lost art of being a dandy
To shake the foundations once more
And to revoke the righteous rage
Of the cultural creed
To set society aflame
With wit and wisdom
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
Bugs, and bogs, and battlecrys,
thieves, and trolls, and dragons fly.
Sword and sorcery,
shield and steam.
Clink and clack,
shine and gleam.
Mythril, chain, and leather works.
Sigils, pain and thrusting dirks.
Student, Teacher
words and wind.
Music, Fae,
and naming things.
Mistborn, alloys, Kredik Shaw,
Kandra and Inquisitors.
Rohan Mordor,
Minas Tirith,
Rings and Orcs,
Hobbit village.
From child, to teen, to present me;
escape, and dreams, and fantasy.
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 7:11 PM UTC
earbuds buzz,
indic of incoming friendly fire,
another love song,
hardly differing,
what’s the big deal?
uh oh, oh no,
only transformered into an ****** boy soon
to be out loud squealing
for that’s not the way a poet’s brain operates,
a surgical insertion of a poetic inquiry brings a repetitive inquisition's painful honesty
and a new commitment commission now inescapably upfront~facing
even for the
low priestly devotee of
only
love
poetry!
Has anyone ever said to you
I want to hold you forever?
Have you ever told anyone
I want to hold you forever?
oh my god!
*the brain is racked, a fav torture of the self-
inquisitors, more awful than version physical,
my balance disturbed, my soul perturbed,
which the greater, my enabled loss or
my failure?*
*for a detailed search of history personnelle
(of course! it is a feminine noun)
registers no results, given or received,
the hurt of the how, can it be, OLP never
uttered this most greatest
declaration of love?*
and then/there, by the River East, a most public place, old man is seen uncontrollably
weeping, a non-gendered English verb,
reported the New York Post
tabloid newspaper
small thanks, photo had my back bent,
my face remained hidden, but revealed agony
of the twisted prostrate figure leaning over
the railing as he rails like an exile
or a hostage
*and there’s no answer forthcoming, no coverup, just an existential howling in
recognition that the opportunity has likely
disappeared, and the sky answers not
when begged*
***why me, why me, for the silence
is answer enough, never was I willing to
raise the gate protective, high enough to
stand before another, unclothed and
impurities revealed
surrender myself to accept or
give out or give in to
that most
wonderful risk***
and the weeping
doesn’t cease,
it is doesn’t soothe
or ease,
for the division’s remainder
remains less than a
whole integer
how can I call myself,
only a love poet?
and I answer
my self
with a teary silence
of an unanswered
curse
Oct 11, 2024
Oct 11, 2024 at 7:28 AM UTC
You!
Harbinger of wars
Impeder of enlightenment
I beseech you
Begone, begone with you
Cease beguiling
The weak, the meek
With atonement
For alleged sins
Cease spearing
The flesh of the simple
With your evil seed
Behind the vespers
In the corrupted house
Of your alleged God
For my eyes are open
I see the veracity
Behind the fraud
Scoundrels that you are
You think you own
By lies sown
Spewed forth from
The house of Rome
Intimidators of purgatory
And hell
Inquisitors of death
I pity you
For, you
Rule by fear
And fear alone.
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 3:52 AM UTC
I remember it like yesterday,
my heart stopped dead,
.45 cal laser sighted Glock to my head,
She was a queen with the green,but the heart of Medusa,
ruler of the crew,I was the one to ****** her,
but a snake in the garden,a stone in her heart,
one fake Machiavelli tried to push us apart
Didn't realise the depths of the Celtic connections,
the Queen wasn't with the Skitz just for my ********
she was a foresighted,hard headed a back breakin ruler,
with a wicked last grin for the man who would fool her,
Tools she would use were an Inquisitors nightmare,
to be true to you my new crew,the Sandman was scared,
but prepared for Armageddon on the way-well prepared,
cause the Sandman's backup was a .50 cal long style,
it wasn't me who was facin' the Death Mask Smile
x2 hard rocks,tough guys-those who face death daily,
surround me,propound my senses never fail me,
never know whats comin'- watch your back big style ,
it could be you that faces the Death Mask Smile.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 7:40 PM UTC
Silence makes the demons come alive
In the silence they just thrive
So my house is never quiet
Some times it sounds like an all out riot
My tv is alway on
So my demons do not spawn
I already have to many
Three is more than plenty
If you're wondering how I know the count
I've seen them in my house walk about
If you wonder if I get scared
My aswers, no all my houses they've shared
Even my kids no longer worry about them
It's only me the seek to condemn
But when new folks spend the night
They seem to stay up till the morning light
I guess they don't have unearthly visitors
Because in the morning they become quite the inquisitors
Like how do you ever sleep, and don't they scare you
I sleep with the tv on, and only a few times they do
But I like it better when I can see them from my bed
It means their not messing up there in my head
For only when they walk my floors
They aren't in my mind opening doors
That should stay shut
Because those memories make me cut
They are devious little basterds
They know exactly what their after
And they've almost succeeded a few times
But I'm still here, alive, on that up hill climb
But one day they'll win
And with the fishes I'll swim
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
Only echoes now remain of they
A silence that became louder year by year
More deafening than the reality of the suppressed truth
Then it was out
louder than an explosion
The truth emerged and in that moment
Solice became a possibility
Justice an equality
Not an orchestrated privilege
For it had long been hidden
Hidden by lies told by those who knew
Those sworn to protect
A small group of inquisitors
The truth would have brought change
The truth however bitter would have ended it
Yet they did not air that truth, oh no
A group so powerful they changed history
No they re wrote it as a **********
Tomorrow so it seems they bury their leader
With honour and pomp and ceremony
Yesterday you mourned the victims
Left to die like cattle slaughtered
But soon you may vanquish the conspirators
Tonight sleep as your 96 do
Be at peace for the truth has aired
Lady Justice now is in balance and wields her sword
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
Dribble I, rusted spheres of number and
ethnicity. My small Hanoi tower, emergent in
sweaty purlicues, yearn for mushroom dish.
I pocket them and once more rinse to the
other side of my frame to await the inquisitors
in a St. Petersburg ’s sleep.
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 12:32 PM UTC
Here on Earth
We are just visitors.
Inquisitors to our own detriment;
Still, curiosity is prevalent to our
Intelligence.
Here on Earth
We are all mentors.
Decorating life's halls with pictures;
Memoirs of our fallacious
Lessons
Here on Earth
We are all creators.
Creatures made of muddy water;
Still, Your reflection can be seen with
Imagination.
Here on Earth
We are all listeners.
Master practitioners of selecting
Information gatherers, join our
Organization.
Here on Earth
I was my own body
Until society taught me that
Rejection is a fate far worse than
Death.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 6:50 PM UTC
hypochondira and hyperactivity,
misguiding nouns.
*vinum bonum et suave,
bonis binum, pravis prave,
ave mundana laetitia!*
łyski - whiskey -
łysy... itching to slap a skinhead...
so the question:
what are the ad hoc parameters of
cogito ergo sum?
i so wish to be given an
ad hoc clarity for certain maxims...
in most instances they're bibles,
obscurity riddles them a hymnal status,
and that said: holy.
i wan't to be given the ad hoc
instruction manual for certain
eurekas...
i'm told that the already stated
prefigures subjectivity...
and that the subconscious
isn't merely a bystanders' experience of
puppetteering...
insinuation sphere...
just like i might add third party
inquisitors demanding of me that:
every dream has a hidden meaning behind it.
so many have died trying to
create the uncoscious contraceptive...
this mental *******
this exploitative subconscious insinuation
puppet motivation...
the subconscious only exists
to create the other's drone capitalisation
of fragility...
the synonym of the subconscious
within groundwork of making choices,
acknowledging ethic, is insinuation,
spies and the alphabetical fixation on
subversion, and all other subs- congregate.
and it really does sound like nonsense
once the enemy's tongue is waggling...
some even called it the
omnivore safehaven...
when in fact so much was prioritised
for dietary requirements...
that became bouldered
anorexic grey-areas;
synchronised skeleton army
tugging the chimeras of crimea,
shortened to the word: Krym.
knowing this tongue, i should be apt at
forging any and all ethnic linkage with it
being expressed: i should be gagging
for a forthnight spent in las vegas!
but there's me, dreaming of a tartar steak.
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 2:11 PM UTC
'Quit!'-- the most powerful word
I know
one that
I'll never let go-
sounds grandiosely onomatopoeic
( a word that never fails to stick)
it shakes
the existing foundation
and order of things
it compels
listening and reckoning-
the establishment
is held aghast and asks:
'Is this a sting
to everything
we hold sacred and dear?'
( why should the present masters fear
if of their own stand they stand sure?)
'Quit!'
a word
so final
affirmative
decisive
prophetic
as though
the bulwarks of the old
must give way to the new
(and what's that 'new' happening?--
those who are threatened are asking)
' Quit!'
how glorious the word!
audacious
pugnacious
cantankerous
unrelenting
uncompromising
non-conforming
unflinching
unyielding
irreverent
intransigent
belligerent
most triumphant !
unashamed
contemptuous
of the current state of being
virtuous
as it would not prostrate
before what it deems to demean
human morality or decency
it would not cow
to suppression or tyranny--
' Quit! if you want to be free!'
How often
in my youthful days
' Quit!' swamped my mind
before those who controlled and bullied me
as I was poor and weak
with no recourse
to any safety nor sanctuary-
how they took delight to see
me at their mercy--
my misery made them happy
' My time shall come'
myself I did promise
through sweat and tears
I laboured waiting for the dawn
when I would shake off the yoke
of my unhappy years-
' Patience, patience, patience'
to myself a thousand times I said
' The time has not come, you must still wait
in more patience, yet more, more and more' --even in the dead
of night the word returns to haunt
weeks followed days, months followed weeks
years followed months, decades followed years
my struggle took three decades-
the price of freedom didn't come cheap
then came the crowning moment
and before the inquisitors I threw my gauntlet
looked into their fearful and perplexed eyes
and exclaimed : ' I QUIT!'
(the most senior of them fell from his seat!).
Quitters of the world
unite!
you have nothing to lose
but your chains!
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 11:59 PM UTC
there was Herman Sweeney
at the front gates?!
*** you just got to
get me a mannequiin pinguin
you **** cos i'm retro,
half-wished spetial,
ya n'ah, bit fudge bit thick -
goes **** among geese - quo quo quack -
or said grey, apparently sic - quo
thus said we have autumn's quota!
well hooray hooray and the Spanish
Inquisitors to minds a fabric of the new gold known
as golf, or whatever, ****** - hey, i could
be your ******** serial killer school friend...
so **** yo mama!
knife up her **** ha ha! see her phone up
a K.F.C. you ****
gansta that **** i bet you won't... boo'ya! ooh ooh
***** got took hold of a hood! n'ah n'ah d'at N.W.A.,
not even Jay S or Dr. Drip can help.
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
To so many it is surreal and dream-like; say it out loud,
they nailed him to a cross; an overwhelming reality too
cruel to believe
Reminded of nothing but what passed their lips into
your ears, the inquisitors, blessed by a past regarded
as their own holy ground asked, “How many prophets
have you met?”
It was enough to know who Satan should truly fear;
those who would never cry, who would have no reaction
to anything except the atrocity of someone who knew
them well
They say walk a mile in another man’s shoes but why
must we walk so far; isn’t his breath alone enough to
know of the scars in his hands and feet?
It seems that life gives others too many chances; they
hurt so many others and expect to be forgiven; but I
have not witnessed their punishment; it is the pattern
sewn by my bitterness
Is it God’s plan to reveal how and when they will be
driven into the desert of lament and sorrow; or even
if he already has, with burning sands beneath their
unrepenting feet, is it any of my concern?
The clock will strike on his time; the test is not only
in bearing my own pain but also in my discomfort
with God’s random will; random to mankind, but
not to God; he chose the time for the storm to wash
away those who preach what they do not know
The one who stirs hate in my heart suffers more than
I will ever know; his conscience burns deep into the
heart I once believed failed him; and when he comes
to me to witness my refusals will he ask then if God
gave me the power to part the sea?
I was given a hammer and some nails; was it to build
a home or to **** a man? I was given a pile of stones;
was it to build a home or to judge another man?
What did God ask of me; tell me what he said for
the dream was such a nightmare that I awoke in
horror at the sight of such unworthiness
To lower your gaze and be the truth; the truth that
only humility knows, not to be hurt once again but
to show how forgiveness is greater than anything
you have been promised?
And as you walk in fear towards an image beyond a
cross you cannot believe is real, will the worthiness of
the forgiver be enough for you to know that the shoes
you wear are not strong enough to hold another man’s
suffering in its sole?
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC
The motto
of one of the Inquisitors of The Church was:
"*We would gladly burn a hundred,
if just one of them is guilty*".
Sounds familiar?
Feb 11, 2024
Feb 11, 2024 at 4:06 AM UTC
Wild beasts of prey
sought to mangle and slay
those souls who believed
and to one God did pray
Thousands led to the slaughter
innocent sons, ****** daughters
before a great Roman Caesar
was baptized with water
….and civilized society
deplored such impiety
crying Never Again
shall we suffer insanity!
The ecclesial of privilege
did torment and disparage
whom they might perceive
to be guilty of sacrilege.
Masses were murdered
into prisons were herded
in God’s Holy Name
the inquisitors consorted
….and civilized society
deplored such impiety
crying Never Again
shall we suffer insanity!
Church elders would castigate
whom they judged to be profligate
to fires consigned
hell and brimstone their fate
Too many were burned
before it was learned
no possession took place
no demon was spurned
….and civilized society
deplored such impiety
crying Never Again
shall we suffer insanity!
The cotton-culled gentry
who prospered from slavery
forsook all compassion
to embrace what was monetary
Families were fractured
unwillingly indentured
till brother fought brother
to forge a free culture
…and civilized society
deplored such impiety
crying Never Again
shall we suffer insanity!
The great Aryan pride
led to mass genocide
obscuring such motives
their atrocities to hide
They led millions to exile
into death camps so vile
as nations ignored
their deafening Sig heil!
No, Not Ever Again
was still the refrain
but so quickly forgotten
while the world grew insane.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
IV
North of Never lies Nothing
Lies more never.
Lies a voided ether,
My future.
North of Never lies the Fall,
My sleeping quarters.
Selling this property
Will not be easy.
Not in this county,
Not this economy
Or country.
North of Never is freezing,
Property value is low,
It's time for me to go,
But where?
I've only ever
Been North of Never,
What else is there?
After the Fall,
There was nothing.
What better place is there for me
Than North of Never?
My future North of Never?
V
North of Never is South of Society,
An inkier sea than nothing
Is the heart of society.
I live on the border
Where Society ends and Never starts.
Where Society ends is where havoc starts,
As if, for all of its flaws,
Society is still worth something more than nothing.
No longer strange how fearful they are
Of being kicked out.
Havoc is the name of the county
North of Never,
Hence the low number of inquisitors
Looking to buy my property.
I only wanted it because it was so cheap,
The true price was not listed.
At the time, the true price
Had not existed.
When I bought this property, I was alone.
I was satisfied with being alone.
I had never known any else,
Any better.
When I bought this property,
I bought a lifestyle,
Where morning starts at ten am
And sleep comes never.
VII
I am burning in a fire I lit.
I made my bed and now lie in it,
But I never realised how thorny
A bed of roses would be.
I have made mistakes.
This house is my biggest mistake.
Becoming the Fall was my biggest mistake.
They are the same thing after all,
For North of Never lies my home,
Lies the Fall.
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 9:58 PM UTC
Whist now, love
speak quietly,
and keep your symbol,
close about you.
Only meet in darkness,
while this zealotry
prevails,
for they will
raze the sacrosanct to
filth of unkempt alleyways,
in mutilated outrage of
their tyrannous brigades...
Pray,
stay your song
inside yourself,
go placid into nothingness,
say little of your learning
hood the wisdom of your word,
They will come,
these new Inquisitors,
with torches for their narrative,
our difference is a Witchcraft,
and the Witches must be burned...
Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 5:55 PM UTC