"masonic" poems
resuming textual trip
testing experimental procedures
visualizing model tsunami
augmenting facetious environment
catching abstract architecture
noticing rhythmic exchange
projecting subtextual database
airhorning reggae royalty
adding atypical party
resolving twitter question
noticing emotional mission
awaiting emotional dialect
installing metaphorical experiment
intensifying animated trip
displaying dynamic victory
programming abstract development
releasing emotional exchange
deriving fata morgana
glorifying referential sequence
intensifying facetious map
noticing harmonic trip
observing radical ratio
compiling nomadic message
predating google rebranding
reticulating facetious panda
using hyperreal feedback
exploring virtual panda
speculating graphic gallery
throwing mundane exception
targeting graphic experiment
replenishing emotional trap
localizing asemic animal
dropping rhythmic trip
propagating immortal experiment
displaying lowercase database
invading orange bubbles
crashing animated trip
running conceptual topography
remembering collapsed buildings
crashing hyperreal coverage
propagating hyperreal stipulation
finishing western library
envisioning neon tessellation
reciprocating network likes
processing animated device
releasing haptic quality
examining building seven
awaiting rhapsodical ratio
sampling death sauce
sensing lowercase clone
examining symbolic tour
processing potential development
encapsulating spatial lottery
displaying digital paragraph
reticulating theoretical source
perpetuating western paragraph
transmitting monochromatic structure
anticipating ambient quality
transmitting asemic environment
intensifying atomic quality
remastering history poem
keeping future light
hypothesizing eternal game
using future library
rearranging masonic language
transmitting masonic development
continuing ceremonial ritual
questioning party's legitimacy
deferring western coverage
finishing asemic hypertext
mollifying ostentatious presence
synthesizing allegorical icon
forming categorical unions
sketching app wireframe
programming immortal repository
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
i.
The atlantian theorists, of the Masonic order,
Wanted a new world, ****** indigenous quarter's;
They came by their ship's, to conceal native truth's,
Only coming for a plunder, to giveth satanic rule.
ii.
The warrior-painted faces, naturally painted by ash and red,
Sawest their shores, being broken by it's door's; mad-men in
Shiny silver, hand's open, yet were fed. Sachem prophet's
Bellowed the harbinger's long afore, now all hast come, these
aborigines weren't dumb; they prophesied this long before.
iii.
The wigwams, longhouses, teepees and lodges, were uprooted from their sacred ground's, the creator's meek were ravaged; as giant bones were taken while found. As hidden beneath the surface, the haut monde made none sound; playing dumbed with Gun's, they ran their fun, fabricating lies, under the America's sun. As tis they gave the world alibi's to be one, O' what hath they done; O' what hath they done.
iv.
First the viking, with dragon ship thunder
came to conquer,pillage and plunder
taking lives without a thought
unwary of the cruelty they wrought.
v.
Then pilgrim's progress seeking new land
would have starved if not for the "savage" man
onward, westward, did they go
killing for profit, pleasure little did they know.
vi.
Grandfather, earth mother and spirit of wild
they watched as the white eye usurped the child
and still, no lesson has been learned
the people grew fat, their culture spurned.
vii.
Most of the tribes are gone away
and America has come to stay
but in my native heart i yearn
to see the Indian nation return.
©Brandon Nagley \Wolfspirit duo poem
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Indigenous harbinger's revealed
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
I laid there staring
at the insanely
bright and rude
fluorescent light
that
mocked my suffering.
The cold concrete
floor felt
good against
my screaming aches.
My body was
pleading with the
Gods for just a
taste of what
had been taken
away.
My bowels were as
controllable as
a teen aged
beauty.
With a ****
I brought my
burning face
toward the cool
silent cold metal
toilet.
Ugly yellow bile
that only a tired
and tortured
body could
produce
spewed forth.
A moan and a wipe
then a hollow knock
on the graffiti
covered cell door.
"You made bail"
an almost robotic
sounding voice
says.
With a thousand tiny
swordsman stabbing
at my face I
managed to smile
into my own bile.
I looked at the
mustached uncaring
face in the
small window.
"You look like Death Pal"
The mustache says to me.
I spit the acrid taste
of day old *****
and ****** resin.
Then rise and run my
sweaty palm through
my hair in an
attempt at looking
presentable.
The mustache opens
the door and
as I walk out
I look directly at the
rogue hairs
protruding from
the mustaches nostrils
and say.
"Death Is Beautiful"
The mustache holds
the door as I walk out.
I'm feeling better already
"Oh Yea well so was my Xwife
look at how much trouble
she still causes me".
The mustache says
Every step
I take down
the institutional colored,
masonic checkered floored
hallway causes
my body
to scream with hope.
I can feel the sweat
roll down my face
but I refuse to let
this mustache
see my suffering.
We stop at the
property window,
I sign a half
of an X where it
says signature.
Then before
I gather up
my belongs
and head
back out into the
night I looked
over at the
mustache and said
"You had a Wife?"
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
Decapitate, disembowel, tear and mutilate!
Schizophrenic!Psychedelic twisted mind!
Expedite, liberate, Alienate then recreate
Masonic!Prolific piece of mind!
Sabotage, besiege, flank to infiltrate!
Victorious!Strategic tyrannic mind!
Crucify, liquify, impale bleed them dry!
Torturous!Barbaric, sadistic mind!
Derange, insane, crazy and mental!
Hallucinating!Polysyllabic demented mind!
Disturbed, diabolic, vile and fatal!
Parasitic!Infected infested mind!
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
To be chanted whenever the O Machine 1 fails:
Rumor has it that the Enigma
Was to Churchill a foul stigma
And that the ancient, creaking Babbage
It was to him but so much cabbage
Colossus One and Colossus Two
Those gadgets too he began to rue
They say he let them rust and rot -
The pity is that he did not
(I checked with the Lizard People on this – Churchill’s secret Second World War computers, powered by a primordial Lemurian source of energy so dangerous that even speaking its name in the ancient language of the Atlanteans is said to be fatal, are secured in a locked vault on Oak Island and guarded around the clock (set to Martian time) by the Trilateral Masonic-Vatican Continuum of deadly albino flying fish.)
1 E.M. Forster, “The Machine Stops,” 1909, Much-anthologized
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 3:52 PM UTC
Familial connectedness once again balances upon the brink of severed reconciliation.
I regret those detachments of which I had no accurate knowledge, and I have come to realise that those precious smells of nocturnal celebration far surpass the Scottish occasion of Hogmanay.
The East coast of Scotland will never cast aside her conscious awareness of masonic peculiarity.
So, I proclaim that our significance and identity transcend steel constructs which span the treacherous marine pathways of The Forth.
Did you happen to see the most beautiful girl amidst the smoky atmosphere in Yoker?
Snowflakes will continue to fall in silence over Fife hills, as the wisdom of Jimmy's grey hair calmly submits to a kaleidoscopic inevitability.
Listen, my friend, because this is important: we will always be related to detachment.
Sit comfortably, with tears in your eyes, because our roots will surprise us in the Great Finale.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
The Acolytes come marching in and out and in, out again
Minds befuddles, rationalities amissing, fully indoctrinated
Pathetic Dogs of Attrition dressed all in white, all in pain
Compulsive obsessives, neurotics primed and oxygenated
Scrappers at the bottom of the barrel wants unlawful gain
By hook or crook is their recourse, to that they are mandated
From rhetorics long gone and ideologies forged in days of rain
Our intrepid Confused and Acolytes are soundly medicated
Just march to left, left, left, left and we will ease all your pain
Recognize that the enemies are those that think and are educated
They all claim domain at the top, with kudos, status and fame
While you languish in closed barrels, your poor lives truncated
Those Bosses are all there because they are all Masonic inclined
Doctors, lawyers and Professionals paid cash for Degrees granted
They did no work or study, rich Daddies just paid so they claim
All those Entrepreneurs are Robbers who bankraid unarrested
Because the Police are all masonic and help/share in all the gain
The Royals are Top Mafiosas, with International links atested
So Dumb Acolytes Know the truths and fall with the wise in line
We must regain Power and march left, left so we're not left in vain
The republic shall live because it's 21 Century and we wake in time
We take all from the Secret Society and cut off all our iron chains
Begin by taunting, tormenting and harassing that ****** Wayne
The ****** Prince is the African Mafia Chief and Exploiter kingpin
Sing with me everybody
Viva la Revolution, viva la Revolution
We are clever, all in our White uniforms
We march to the left left left with our two left feet
We know our brains have left us but we go left left
Viva la Revolution, Viva la Revolution, Viva la Jinbba.
Hey! jinbba, jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbaba, hey! jinbba jinbba
Sing.........
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 5:09 AM UTC
Check it out I learn knowledge of self
To up my health now they movin' in stealth gainin' mental wealth
Cuz im long lasting tongue is blastin'
A million rhymes infectin' the mic right?
Ya loosin' sight ya thoughts going braille
Welcome to the 9th Gate of hell where I sail
On brainwaves my heart craves for the saves
Of hip hop not from Atlanta but a brave
These idiots crave in a rage cuz I'm turning the page
Back to the first scene of hip hop see how my tape pops
ears cropped mouths begin to drop from the rhymes that I
cop
Into ya corticals breakin' in to ya local articles full of arsenal minds a carrousel
Since I was an embyro I knew I was built for
******** a punisher
Ya fallin' way under
Evil content words laid immense never consent
To plans of a Masonic establishment
broke the lease I'm hear to visually increase
My linguistic is mathematics so have at it
Stab it and I'll break the habit
No ropes around my brain absorb the pain
Once I reclaim my domain a Pharoah to a King ?
Huh? my word sharper than a Marlin philosophize like Carlin
No short bargains bump political jargons
While y'all arguing I'm upping my mind for wisdom
To grow while others thoughts still covered up in snow....
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC
Ms. Miss Me
Messes with the mess
Of Me
Messianic Masonic Messiah
Making mountainous modules
Manufactured from the make-shift
Makings of my soul
Which lifts me
Higher than before
It’s
Mysterious mysticallity
How you made me
After you met me
The misogynistic misogamist misfit
Meets Ms. Perfect
You misled me
You knew I didn’t want to fall in love
I mistreated you
And now
I miss seeing you
Mr. Missed Her
Mistakenly misunderstood
Her magic
For a trick
My mania must mean
I’m
Malevolently maiming my mind
Never mind me
NO!
Forever mind me
You’re forever mine
Even if only in the mind
My metal moccasins
Stump through
The mine field
On my quest to find you
Again
Constant explosions
Milling
A million
M-80’s to make
A metaphor
Of the fire within
The fireworks
I mean
Hopefully the fire works
I destroyed your
Mint commission
I meant condition
Your mint condition
Was devalued
From my mixed intentions
And messages
Monotonous tasks
To get you back
I get your back
And stay forever
In your past
Empty
M.T.
Mt. Empty
You built me
Just to leave me
Empty
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
The money and the power
fit like hand in glove,
manipulating our lives
with hands soaked in blood.
Like pawns on a chessboard
we follow their commands,
cleverly manipulated
by cold corporate minds.
They reap a tainted harvest
bought with sleeping souls,
their purses bulging
as they play out their roles.
Prancing about in their
huge stately homes,
costumes adorned
with skulls and bones.
Masonic handshakes
get you into their halls,
where horrors unfold
amidst terrified calls.
And way down here
on the creaking boards,
another pawn is lost
to the bloodthirsty hoard.
Their veils are returned
as they cover the loss.
Another family bereft,
must recover the cost.
*
Written by Darren Scanlon, 2nd march 2015.
Revised 2nd October 2015.
©2015 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC
The Church in its awesome majesty
Looked down, from over the hill,
From faith, to hope, to travesty
It stood, and is standing still,
So proud in its fine regalia
Its ritual, and never the least,
Its potent God who would wield his rod
Deter the jaws of the beast.
The Bishop of Saint Ignatius Church
Was a proud and holy man,
Who wouldn’t suffer the jibes of fools
From Rome to Afghanistan,
And certainly not those down the hill
In the new Masonic Lodge,
That beastly, secret doctrine that
He advised his flock to dodge.
He’d stand at the steps of his church and stare
Down at the barbarians,
He hated Lodges, he hated Mosques
And Rastafarians,
‘There shouldn’t be anyone else but me,
I hold the eternal God,
What gods they worship could never be,
For they’re all distinctly odd.’
While down at the Lodge of the Masons
They were cool with their golden rule,
They had to believe in a god as such,
But how, it was up to you.
For some would practice the Baptist faith,
And some Presbyterian,
While some enrolled in the Primitive state
Were a type of Wesleyan.
There was only a single Catholic
And he wore a glued on rug,
He wanted to still be young at heart,
Was known as the Grand HumBug,
The Antidiluvian Mason’s Guild
Was the name he’d chosen himself,
The others differed, but he was keen,
And he was the one with wealth.
Their God was known as the Architect,
They carried the masons tools,
The set square set them apart from all
The disbelievers and fools.
They worked on their secret rituals
And kept a goat at the back,
For leading a blindfold novice in
And guarding the Lodge from attack.
The Bishop heard that a Catholic
Was leading the Masons there,
He fumed, choked on his rhetoric, but
Was heard to firmly declare,
‘I will not shelter a wayward sheep
Who has taken to ways I hate,
The only fate for a traitor here
Is to excommunicate!’
He gathered a dozen priests to march
With candles, down to the Hall,
Surrounded the base heretic’s Lodge
And named HumBug in his call,
Sprinkled his holy water ‘til
It fizzed, and gave off a smell,
Doused his candle and closed his book,
Consigning the man to Hell!
But Humbug patted his glued on rug
Went out, untethered the goat,
He let it loose on the dozen Priests,
It butted the Bishop’s coat,
They ran in confusion up the street,
To the church, set up on the hill,
While the goat was hard at the Bishop’s heels
Like a demon released from Hell.
It butted the Bishop’s altar and
It charged, knocked over the font,
Scattered the pews for the devil’s dues
In a hellfire sacrament,
While HumBug muttered he might end up
In Hell, with his Mason’s sect,
But the Bishop’s God, had failed with his rod
In a clash with his Architect!
David Lewis Paget
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 12:45 AM UTC
What, you think this earth belongs to you?
Dont act like your **** dont stink. Pee-eww.
We sabotaged and stole this land...
Poorly planned.
Tried hard to **** off all the native peeps.
Became the kind of company that misery keeps.
**** of the earth.
We dont need a world-wide police.
Need this new-world-order like we need a new disease.
Watch out, keep eyes peeled.
Catch you slippin, might take away the rest of the freedoms you feel.
Trade MY Rights for YOUR lies?
C'mon, get real, no deal.
Masonic traditions so ritualistic.
Right in front of our eyes!
Rediculous.
So sadistic.
No such thing as ugly beauty inside.
No morality.
No empathy.
No unity for human kind.
All pride.
All pompous politicians peddling for bribes.
Question everything.
Humans lie and decieve and try to change your beliefs...
For selfish reasons that you may or may not see or believe...
Dec 7, 2009
Dec 7, 2009 at 2:12 PM UTC
Surveying the large and burdensome
Masonic Holy Bible
Given to you decades ago
As a Brother of the Fraternity,
Left behind upon your death,
Amazed at the excellent condition
Of the text; the presentation
And family record pages blank...
One would think this a token volume
Meant only for in-home display
Until finding, scattered throughout
And clinging near the spine,
Dried and preserved clovers from
Distant summer days.
Four-leaf clovers, a couple hundred or more,
Gathered over the years from fields,
Hillsides numberless, and pressed
Into the arms of kings David and Solomon,
Mingled with Isaiah's prophecies and
Seeded about the Sermon on the Mount -
The great tome laced with leaves
Of discovery, welcome surprise, safekeeping.
Some may believe this a misuse
Of a sacred text, but perhaps
It is a testament to your disposition
That an oversized and weighty Holy Bible
Was made a repository of so many
Little verdant flags of good fortune.
- fr
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 5:17 AM UTC
Glory be to God for avenging the ****** of William Laud!
Refusing the reality of the Spiritual Church?
Puritan
Though not altogether disjointedly?
Pilgrim
As Puritan dreams
turn to happy meals
and
vast parking lots
of freedom of choice.
America that Church
with their Jeffersonian natural religion and
their Masonic philosophies.
Where human rights/freedom are the Gospel;
as Christendom falls to human nature
for exaggerative innuendo and condemning councils
to further intellectualization of faith
in Jesus name.
© S. Wesley Mcgranor
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 7:07 PM UTC
*Her body is
Calligraphy.
Her attitude is
Old English.
Her eyes are
Morse Code.
Her smile is
Hieroglyphics;
Her soul is
Cuneiform.
Her words
are Meroitic.
But her mind is
Masonic Writing
Where as she keeps
So many secrets.*
- (A.F)
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
***** squalor punk paradise
Outlaw gravestones unmarked
Mountains cast heavy shadows
Valley honors no dead
Newspaper op-ed hippie commune expose
And communists all up and down the block
Vintage retro holocaust-chic
La Boheme in the land of gods and monsters
Masquerade ball at the Masonic temple
And marijuana smoke permeates everything
All cells and viscera
Homeless vagrant lowly pauper
Prince of rats king of nothing
Filth & filth & mottled fury
Broken ****** Christmas morning double suicide
New year tastes just like the old one
***** hair on ***** streets
Piles of burning mattresses without sheets
Papers called me a disease, parasitic epidemic
I think I might believe them
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 1:12 AM UTC
See, I dreamt of you,
Before I ever seen your face
The perfectness of lineage
As your curves took on their shape.
Dimples at the very tip,
Of your very flexible legs
I could sit and let you be
My pinning over sage.
Apple from the tree of knowledge
In Eden’s Garden Grove
Even in the black lit darkness
Your dancing halos glow.
Mirror Imaged complexion,
Reflecting the beauty of the stars
Pinned up to the night fall
Like fire flies in jars.
If only it were that simple
To capture the beauty you behold,
Inside Masonic glass and lid
Because for you there is no mold.
Goddess, hale from another plain
With an evenly stellar shine
The universe just can’t compare
To the divinity of your bloodline.
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 10:30 PM UTC
Central Africa
Is being used As a war zone
To keep us away from it
As we can naturally
Fall back into the center of Africa
Whenever feeling unsafe
Like they would recede
To Poland and Greenland
In times of great hot need
They think they have us
All pinned down
With puppet black presidents
That get elected by black people
Only to take advise
From Europe and ignore
African voices
It is a masonic ploy
To keep the greenest
Natural garden of Africa
As war zone
To curtail our movements
And keep us locked up
In small pockets
For the finishing blows
it make no sense
Why the central Africans
Never find their peace
Those green lands
Could be farms
Of food to sell us
And cut high prices
It is a masonic plan
Against Africa
Using trusted leaders
©Taetso JoJo
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
Hoodoo, Voodoo
Anything that you do
Think of what it will do
To your friends
Buildings, Guildlings
Masonic or class rings
Remember what the choice brings
When you choose
It's not so simple just to disconnect yourself
It's not about the way that you ***** yourself
There are so many things that go beyond your eyes
And the many things that remain are just disguised
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 2:58 PM UTC
They said George Washington was a high level mason, then it is only rite for me to suggest that Obama is a higher level mason
They said politicians study the masonic laws, therefore they gave masonic holidays unto us
They said masons killed Kennedy, they also said masons killed his family,
therefore I assume that the head of the masonic committee decided to **** Kennedy
I assume that there is a extremely high ranking mason, and he must to be the head of all masons
They said that all sacrificial organizations are controlled my masons
They said that most of the missing kids are masonic sacrifices, therefore the head mason give the command, and the lower level masons fulfil his petition.
By: Kevarie O. Leslie
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC
Route the dark in light
Ducking down
Masonic freedom fighter
Tend to rend the holy crown
Chalice overflowing
When did this cup pass to me
Empty vessel wrestled from a twine
Entwined fate
Engorged ball of hate
Flattening the gluttons
I've seen it all
Its never right to Intermediate
Limb of light
Invigorated, left unchecked
Balances precariously
Between the seance of death
And the scorn of the righteous
Overbearing and meaningless
And still it beckons
To walk a thin line
Is to take everything in stride
The same stride
We strove for
Through every long night
Waist deep in the sin
Crying out internally
Giving everything to win
Starving on the battlegrounds
Carving up and laying down
Doubting every action
Stained by affliction
Destined to persist
Slaying anything
Monster...
Demonic...
Only light escapes
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 6:16 PM UTC
Liam C. Long's cheap articles about jostens masonic ring finger.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 5:38 AM UTC
a deep chthonic rumble bids me re
read
Aldous Huxley, Ape and Essence. See it, beyond the doors of perception
Brave
New World Apocalypse,
now retold by the last of those old carp,
using modern magi-tech to tap
Old intel, informing conforming minds of masters,
each holding certain truth servant but they
mention no slaves, as we imagine
all men were by right rich in time to read
and speak of things read or said
in writing found in hidden places,
lonely,
all by my self places,
said to be, places in the mind, while
places in the heart have others of our kind.
We make up a mind, we say in thought
I see
the old wise men were not all wombless eunuchs,
though many
of the idle words they left as
landmarks, lost all meaning over time
being folded up and put away,
for future perusal with intent to improve
whose angst is only felt while beating their own drum?
whose joy is wishing and hoping and dreaming the best
is yet to come?
Not mine, in my future, your now.
Now, take a thought, a non stature increasing one,
ignor the basest of
us,
the beings once mated with actual gods
Ignacio's right use of wrongs, to foil the enemy...
that thought
that evolved into,
lying for the good of the corps social structure,
the mould… formed from thinking that thought
the shape. the frame, the footing under the cornerstone
the builders rejected,
get that straight, the stone rejected for valid masonic reasons,
genuine geometric unorthonicity, not right, not straight
from one point to another,
not smooth as glass,
level as
any
still pond, still lake of your one time experience
seeing the meaning of still
water
that remains the measure of stillness,
by which all further stillness is judged.
You know what I mean, by the measure you use.
Selah. Shalom. Nothing missing, nothing broken
meanings tie us to our measure.
Truths held in trust rust through boots of iron and form the dust on Mars visible from Venus,
as we all bear witness
everything under the sun is much older than any
New World Order, on fractally every scale.
Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 4:26 PM UTC
Build me a better nation
from Jeffersonian democracy ~ not where's Waldo.
As the Masonic
pillage another
grave
of dead monarchs.
Borders of a nation~state,
invaded for the freedom of another sovereign nation
and their mutual cause.
Freeing its presidents, parliament, citizens.
{At least they have a state church}.
© S. Wesley Mcgranor
February 28 2022
Sep 19, 2022
Sep 19, 2022 at 12:26 AM UTC
Muhammad B. Bradshaw's cheaper shop about masonic ring uk retailers.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 5:38 AM UTC