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"templars" poems
Amongst the weak. The strong will rise. Bringing our blades of justice. Assassins, All in disguise. We rise together. Along the line of the crowd. Were at the corner of our fate. Destiny will take us all. Blades thrusted forward, Arrows blacken the skies. We charge into battle. We fight for our lives. For Freedom, For honor. JUSTICE. But for whom? I fear not what we face. We will rise together. Assassins for one. AND all. Together we fight, Against the Templars. We may be an Animus, But our hearts are true. Abstergo Destroyed a brother. Or maybe hundreds. Tonight, They die by our swords. Our blades of honor. Will create a world of War. Beware the Assassins, We've Come to **** You will die, Drowning in the seven seas.
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Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
Assassins Amongst the Crowd
A philosopher is one who strives to think new & original thoughts; I think you need to rethink your views on Christianity...or philosophers; And I get to say this, because I was raised Catholic; In church, every single week,   we open up a book that has not changed in about 2000 years; I was raised in an Irish-Italian   & Hispanic neighborhood & lived across the street from Our Lady of Good Council, I got to see them all suffer & most go straight to Hell; I used to fantasize about being in the Spanish Inquisition & going on Crusades slaughtering Infidels & joining the Knight's Templars; ****** killing & pillaging, then retiring to a quiet life of Sainthood
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Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 9:59 AM UTC
❤Heloise & Abelard [2018]❤
The bare bulbed cell lights broke through the bars along the top floor of the old city hall. My dreams locked in a battle with my memories all the while it was the Poppy who kept me strong. They cut their blocks with water and magic the way the Mayans and the Templars once did. Your likeness set in bronze sit's ageless in the concrete. Sirens yell in another part of the city as your worries are left struggling long after you've moved on. There's not enough damage here, come back and see me once she's gone. I did'nt leave the pistol for too long and I did'nt lie to her when I told her it was'nt enough. Kept my word and spent my riches. God knows I would'nt have it any other way. Spend my final days puffing on forgetfullness. I found my salvation in an ***** den. I promised her I'd come back one day.
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May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
Something to Guide You Home
There is a symmetry to war, state against state, brother against brother, like Siamese twins joined headlong, thrashing and flailing with one impassioned heart for the right to be. And still the world turns, and still the hearts of defeated men beat strong with savage hopes for a lost generation, and the hearts of victors, once blinded by angst and ire, observe the failings of their triumph, see through old lies that urged them unto death or death, and old traditions, caked in blood, are refashioned and reborn like bell- bottomed denim, and still the world turns. How was it, in that desperate hour, for a man born to cotton fields, born unto the yoke, born beneath the whip, born unto the mercy of his masters, how was it to be borne up to see the white cotton flag raised in supplication, to see old masters wavering in ploughed furrows, like cotton billowed by a Northern squall? Was there, in that desperate hour, a scream from the past, "Beware, the Templars!" as old chains were cast off, and melted to forge chains anew, and the masters of old were replaced by new masters of state, and old fashions like slavery replaced with chains worn by gangs over bell-bottomed denim? As long as men are masters of men, Man will abuse his fellow man; Profiteers will sup the fruits of free labor, honest business will decline, and prisons burgeon as the poor become poorer, and the poorest are inducted into the perfect symmetry of an imperfect finite state machine, until the next uprising.
0
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 7:11 PM UTC
One Impasssioned Heart
There is a symmetry to war, state against state, brother against brother, like Siamese twins joined headlong, thrashing and flailing with one impassioned heart for the right to be. And still the world turns, and still the hearts of defeated men beat strong with savage hopes for a lost generation, and the hearts of victors, once blinded by angst and ire, observe the failings of their triumph, see through old lies that urged them unto death or death, and old traditions, caked in blood, are refashioned and reborn like bell- bottomed denim, and still the world turns. How was it, in that desperate hour, for a man born to cotton fields, born unto the yoke, born beneath the whip, born unto the mercy of his masters, how was it to be borne up to see the white cotton flag raised in supplication, to see old masters wavering in ploughed furrows, like cotton billowed by a Northern squall? Was there, in that desperate hour, a scream from the past, "Beware, the Templars!" as old chains were cast off, and melted to forge chains anew, and the masters of old were replaced by new masters of state, and old fashions like slavery replaced with chains worn by gangs over bell-bottomed denim? As long as men are masters of men, Man will abuse his fellow man; Profiteers will sup the fruits of free labor, honest business will decline, and prisons burgeon as the poor become poorer, and the poorest are inducted into the perfect symmetry of an imperfect finite state machine, until the next uprising.
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42
In this Order of Eastern Templars, I cannot help but feel that my guardian angel has departed. Yet, I can feel the summoning power of her fluttering wings as they soar upon the celestial thermals of my inferior and frontal-lobular cognitive pathways. There truly is a difference between magic and magick. Having heard the echoes of menacing footsteps as they confidently follow the antiquarian hallways of Celtic castles, it is important that we cast our circles amidst this tantric ritual of ****** prowess. Accessing the alternate universe is not dissimilar to a philosophical and mathematical manifestation of ambivalence.
0
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC
Trans-Plutonian Space
too circumspect to genuflect a snide rebuttal of rituals the dope on the rope says the mob has no hope yet he feeds on the blood of heathens stomped to death beneath the cross convert and confess the templars and the saracens and all the ****** rest... pass the plate, write it off your taxes don't sweat the big things the confessional swings axes forget your past, you are made anew in the box with Big-daddy the room with the puny view oh blessed forgiveness for a  select few *And call no man your father upon the earth, for one is your Father, which is in heaven. the catechism didn't catch that one convenient truths abba take the queers, gypsies, the disfigured and jews for strewth!  it'll help us win WW2 fewer mouths to feed, and oh so unclean those unconverted pagans to the concentrated ovens unseen
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Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
*Going to Hell
kupujesz kebab'ah, przyjmuszej arab'ah. do people realise it's bound to be beyond jesus? i listen to the cantos of the templars and hear the adhan; it's just problematic when you revise these verses into a coherent movement that can be monetised / militarised... *in the grotto of nationhood; thus was said to provide a signature, footprint or the trouser's zipper; as the least demanding reply... thus said by a man with no crusader past... what is this anyway? i'm going to call on the templar cantos to be aired on classic.fm, but i know they won't, they'd sooner air orff... and that's the sad bit... the violent bit comes later, when you prescribe people medicine, with them thinking it's poison.*
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Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 11:12 PM UTC
cantos templar vs. adhan
That iridescent image I had known for years seen it in various guises and learnt its form by heart know its poetry from the classics under Grecian lights and when it appeared this time I delve to find its mind But it was for Papa that the birth of reason grew in a missive unspoken and a call enveloped later unfurled a whisper rose that urged, look after for me, I will soon be gone a king had spoken perchance to a chosen knight now obliged to obey the ode of times and fleeting sighing sights of the light-footed in rays of play the child of our times skips boundarys and forts maidens sing stories and the gallant forays in skirmishes abound a ringing promise hangs as a willow in wisp claims legacy unknown tempest swirls and sound in fury rules in chagrin and ardour a gamekeeper sees a ***** traipsing the trails of Tigers and lions the tipsy gypsy hears neither the troubadour nor the rites of Templars a mind envisaged was the shrunken bulb of shrubs and alien foliage Be it not a dirge or condemnations of seducing Westering gales banquets laid for differing tastes and jesters jest for mirth and frolics a wizened once reached out in wordless touch, a promise sailed forth In deep blue sea a mindful dolphin far from home turns and swims away......
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Jul 16, 2019
Jul 16, 2019 at 6:33 AM UTC
Tell me no secret, tell me no lies....
i went from being 77kg to being 115kg, add that to your Newtonian concept of gravity via jenny dinski; comrade Kane rather than citizen, and we just about buried Stalin next to the new age mummy of Lenin; so hoorah ******* Ra: an iron eagle to boot, pecking the hairs of Jesus' rubric of the monkish crowns of abbreviated hairlines, receding, or if not receding then encapsulating a chanced oasis; still the monks though; and given the Templars... trouble, either militant Islam revisionism or Baphomet idolatry to counter homosexuality.
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May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
concept of gravity
(We could break the last straw. Running through these trap doors. Baby this the last call. Going gone, blast off. We goin hit the roof top, moon walk ...Baby we are N.A.S.A N.A.S.A N.A.S.A) Don't need no G5 denied. I might free dive the sky. Live like I retired tonight. I got these tigers in my eyes. I wanna re-re-revive you re-re-revive you. re-ig-nite the fuel. We live our life for two. We got the nicest moves. There's no time to lose. I got my eyes on you. That's my kind of groove. (..We could break the last straw. Running through these trap doors. Baby this the last call. Going gone, blast off. We goin hit the roof top, moon walk ...Baby we are N.A.S.A N.A.S.A N.A.S.A Check my momentum. We're glowing through the spectrum. They want the nectar. Do it until they necks hurt. All over the map we in a whole different vector. This the knight life apple of my eye. Yaa we do it like the templars. I'm always gone So I never know wen digo wen digo wen wen digo wen digo wen digo wen wen digo wen digo wen digo wen wen digo wen digo wen digo wen wen digo (..We could break the last straw. Running through these trap doors. Baby this the last call. Going gone, blast off. We goin hit the roof top, moon walk ...Baby we are N.A.S.A)
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Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 8:48 AM UTC
Carter
The templars took the cross and made it a religion rose a psychological overseen dome of acquiesce and admiration What if there weren't any slaves? only mercenaries who craved for power and a subservience rave across the vast seas and distances We trace the Omlec race in Americans way before Colombus leaped his strides as they left scented archeological remnants of basalt and granite sculptured rights The templars took the cross and created glorified corded bonds aesthetically covered with an overseer of utter deceit and embellished conmanship
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May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 6:47 AM UTC
Psychological Deceit.....
Please see attached for Irrational decisions mental shortcut, heuristic lens on judgmental behaviors, slander malice towards partners of Eve Deceitful love, politics amongst words cultural hive, the buzz intrigues the standout gets called up salem's gospel goes on eloquent potholes new generational lost souls goodluck charlie goodluck growing up street with templars liberty substitutes for crosses museums enemies divisive liturgy unboxes
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Apr 10, 2021
Apr 10, 2021 at 9:20 PM UTC
Social Box Cart
Red Mountain Black Mysteries Bold Beginnings Harp String Of The Unknown Monarchs Wingspan Fluttering tTempation Against Pleasures of Beauties  Infinite Horizon Creations Reward Templars   Ecstasy Magicians Starlight Paint brush Of the Word
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May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
Pleasure
Iron shirted horsemen loose trotting lackies. Snarling, snapping curs drive us into the sea. The cold depths are our sanctuary. Come dogs! Come! Swim to us, our throats are bared. Visions of the masters’ favor lure them into deeper water. Come dogs! Come! Where we can stand, but, you cannot. Strong hands will hold you beneath the waves. Angry Templars stand upon the shore. Plaintive whistling cannot bring back dead dogs. The Believers are an ocean.
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Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 10:42 AM UTC
Beat the Dog in the Water
i just can't take U.S.A. with its Jesus cults seriously, i rather take on Cuba and the banana republics for something to think about... sorry... europe did away with jesus a long time ago, unearthing the Nag Hammadi library doesn't mean a revival if it only produces the Templars' idol (Baphomet); remember too unearthing the Dead Sea scrolls and how Isaiah was cut in half... you're either with one, or the other... either the one crucified or the other dismembered at the abdomen i.e. cut in half - and indeed Muhammad is a peculiar sight, book in hand, with Socrates and Jesus gobbing their dues into what the paparazzi would consider eyes' worth of capture / celebrity status and carelessness in mind of want of literacy; was it really about a library with only one book in it?
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May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
Jesus U.S.A.
toadstool scrimshaw high ankled inlaws harlequin anthems and awkward Templars acid battalions of basic disbelief. on a sea of inconstant allure.
0
Oct 7, 2019
Oct 7, 2019 at 3:07 PM UTC
toadstool scrimshaw
the templars can sing all they want... we're dealing with really sick people with the insurrection of the nag hammadi library! kaptur... of a monk's hood... kapć - slipper - noun-verb translation, for some reason, other than what the orthodox people state it being... but how would you ascribe the trill to R using the existing diacritical marks? and example... a monk's hood: kaptur v. káptür: both instances exist and are equally justifiable - let's suppose there is a need to add a diacritical mark on one of the consonants, k? no... due to c and q... p? papa pa... no... t? † or st. andrew's X? no... r... R though... i can revise the vowels to embody syllables... acute a to cut up the word: ka- like a bad crow onomatopoeia... -ptoor hence the umlaut doubling up on the U parabola... :: :: :: :: but i want the trill R! i want the sign denoting that it should be "rolled"... rattled... the rattle snake symbol... no, not the french vogue of levitating it toward the hark... the phlegm consonant... i don't want that... ȑ? i.e. " above the r? it's a real word though... the word: kap-tur. a monk's hood... and depending on how you engage disecting a word according to the rule of syllables... there's a higher power that also dissects words: diacritical markings, that was invested in by guidance of the thought: it will make it easier... evidently it made it harder... funny me, in the 21st century pointing this out. e.g. : + u = o dot dot... join up the dots for a circle and then say: : + u = oo. ooh! steven fry playing austin powers! yeah baby! yeah!
0
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 9:43 PM UTC
kaptur v. káptür
the templars can sing all they want... we're dealing with really sick people with the insurrection of the nag hammadi library! kaptur... of a monk's hood... kapć - slipper - noun-verb translation, for some reason, other than what the orthodox people state it being... but how would you ascribe the trill to R using the existing diacritical marks? and example... a monk's hood: kaptur v. káptür: both instances exist and are equally justifiable - let's suppose there is a need to add a diacritical mark on one of the consonants, k? no... due to c and q... p? papa pa... no... t? † or st. andrew's X? no... r... R though... i can revise the vowels to embody syllables... acute a to cut up the word: ka- like a bad crow onomatopoeia... -ptoor hence the umlaut doubling up on the U parabola... :: :: :: :: but i want the trill R! i want the sign denoting that it should be "rolled"... rattled... the rattle snake symbol... no, not the french vogue of levitating it toward the hark... the phlegm consonant... i don't want that... ȑ? i.e. " above the r? it's a real word though... the word: kap-tur. a monk's hood... and depending on how you engage disecting a word according to the rule of syllables... there's a higher power that also dissects words: diacritical markings, that was invested in by guidance of the thought: it will make it easier... evidently it made it harder... funny me, in the 21st century pointing this out. e.g. : + u = o dot dot... join up the dots for a circle and then say: : + u = oo. ooh! steven fry playing austin powers! yeah baby! yeah!
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50
holy grail might have been chalice, a woman's cup challenge, for to save her love knight templars might have been reporters with long zoom lenses watching guinnie & lance cavort about on a stone none who were not there can touch beauty, knowledge, fate, legend leaves tracks for more to follow let lovers follow us it was my moment in the sun my shining nothing conflicting inside my head were the pure chords of ethereal air breathing in rhyme & circular riffs as if entirely upon harps & flutes sun, it's never too late moon, give it up united we shall be universe is bigger than this love but galaxy? may in fact collapse entire, & strand us all with empty hands aching hearts mouths who never said it to you but then again you always knew
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Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 2:01 AM UTC
who am I?