Best Templars Poems
The eye,a sign the
unwise can't comprehend
Forged from the world's
origin,an
illumination in darkened
minds,for the
enlightened ones like
Leonardo da Vinci,Isaac
Newton,John Milton....etc.
The eye is a tree
with many branches like
Priory of Scion,Knight
templars,I.O.G.T,United
Nations,Masonic
Lodge,Music industry,
Politics,global economy,
etc
stretching beyond
human imaginations-felt
in all corners of earth.
The world is clothed
through wisdom from
above.
The eye,all seeing
sign,an invincible
emblem of power and
riches to the lion hearted
and loyal souls.
A seat of influence and
fame.
Creating the social order
through men of power....
Some see it as a
curse,others a blessing.
I feel it,the great eye is
everywhere watching
you!
The Tal-Dareem are fighting-mad;
They've realized they've just been had.
Expect soon Zealots and Stalkers,
Immortals and those "cliff walkers".
Zerg Hydralisks are assembling just out of range,
Supported by Roaches, Infestors, Banelings,…
The Mutalisks are hovering beyond our turrets,
Brutalisks are moving—it’s looking quite desperate.
What matter's most: who'll be standing last,
So let's hit 'em hard and hit 'em fast.
There’s a silver lining for each “end of the world”:
My shift’s almost done and my Siege Tank’s been rebuilt.
I could spend my last hours paralyzed in fright;
But no, I got a date with that cute medic tonight.
Protoss Carriers and Voids will fill the sky,
And Dark Templars may be sneakin' by.
Double the turrets, add more bunkers--
Fill them with Marines and Marauders.
What matters most: who's standing last,
So hit 'em hard and hit 'em fast!
I took several stim-packs off a dead Marine,
And I’ll take a few jolts if she gives me the green.
So all those bug-eyed-monsters better stay out of sight…
Better not mess with me and my Medic tonight.
So we’re all out of minerals, almost out of Vespene.
We’re training our last Marauders, building our last Viking.
But if our Ghosts and Banshees hit the Zerg and Protoss just right,
I might still be around for my Medic tonight.
Got a date with that blue-eyed young medic tonight.
You know, the one that I’ve had for months in my sights.
If my Siege Tank’s a rockin’, don’t come a knockin’.
Got a date with that pretty sweet medic tonight.
Jim Raynor's Raiders will soon be back;
Load your ammo, get ready to counter-attack!
So train more Reapers for rear missions:
Sneak around back, take out their pylons.
Make sure we're the ones left standing last.
Just keep hitting 'em hard and hitting 'em fast.
If I was to take a word, say focus,
Stand it on its head,
And ask with growing sense of dread,
Why my friend did you just now,
Fly upon this particular
Moment’s verbal locus?
Torture I might answer, like waterboarding,
Might explain a thing or two.
Indeed the stakes are dear,
And the coast far from clear-
For foggy shores clarity prevents,
The utter contingency of cluttered events.
Focus is the mine shaft of the mind,
Magnifying that which falls
Into categories of significance:
Signs of a trance, a mental dance,
By which thinking signifies
The magnificent follies
Of a man upside down
In a world of lies.
No subtlety there,
Poet banging hair chest bare,
The mental frequency hertz,
Screeching, scratching, snatching,
Lose bits of hurt out of the air.
The mathematics of falling
Made clear by Newton,
His numbers uncovering
What was
Always there:
A god already in free fall,
The Fall, the autumn of our birth,
The forsaken garden,
Two dummies hand in hand,
An undulating snake,
A world of entanglement,
All fleeing into a desert dream.
For what? To where? And why?
The three double jews of the trinity
Which Law forbade no One to ask,
Yet no body did
Put focus to task.
She reappears all the time.
The rabbit hole stood for what was to come,
The worms therein what was done.
The trip down was fun,
Getting out gave more than the sum.
The prism diffracted the invisible
Beams of light,
An assortment of possibilities followed,
The world explained, the mind contained,
A boundless infinite void of space,
Surrounding us,
Disgracing us,
For we had to face,
The borders of our place.
Trapped inside
We looked the other way,
Attic floors, token doors,
A distilled virtue, forgeries for another day.
The sky was not the limit, we were.
The atoms of the mind mere reflections
Of our best guessing games.
There though, lay our best hope.
After the bloodshed
She reappeared again.
But only after.
Choices like Templars into the night,
Distracted the courtesies of a harmonious cosmos,
God had blood and died,
Men embraced humiliation and cried,
Change, the abomination of free will,
Altered the fabric of time.
Focus put by for a rainy day.
Distraction, the play thing
Of an unruly monster lurking in the shadows of thought,
Vomiting a pile of disassociations.
The Swords Speak – Assasins Brotherhood
Legend says
That a killers brotherhood existed
During high Middle Ages
Fighting for people’s freedom
They were called assassins
They were persecuted and killed
They had a motto to fight for
“Nothing is true -
Everything is permitted”
Their swords speak of freedom
They had it Inscribed on their blades
“We work in the dark to serve the light,
We are assassins” or so it’s said
Their lives were for the cause
Their blood not their own
They were disposable to the society
Not considered one of their own
But the brotherhood of the assassins
Were fighting a war for peace
Their aim, assure freedom
The Templars, their nemesis
But as I said, that’s a myth
In the history, It’s just a legend
The Templars became the heroes
The Assassins were just erased
***
January 15, 2017
Free Verse
9th Place in the Contest The Swords Speak
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
Soldiers raise their holy swords,
To the heavens as they,
Give the oath to protect God and the church.
Such swords are adorned with gems,
Blessed only by God,
Which glows with a testament of honor.
The white tunic instills,
Innocence and purity,
As the red cross symbolizes,
The blood of Christ.
These promises are only kept,
By their silence and,
Giving their life to keep them.
The king and pope betrayed,
The soldiers of Christ.
Yet, after eight hundred years,
Their silence still reigns.
The rumors of their escape,
To distant lands is true.
God blessed the knight's templars.
They kept their oath.
They kept their promise.
One thing is very true,
Treasured documents, Gold, and the chalice,
Has never been found.
I would like to think the heart and soul,
Of the templars resides in heaven,
Protecting the one person that,
They vowed to never leave or betray.
Buried deep within my soul,
A treasure chest full of gold,
Cross my heart and hope to die,
Before I disclose my secret to
friends or foe!
My body is the holy temple,
My hands the Knight Templars,
Crusade upon my holy ground,
Will bring about mystic curses!
Foul creatures of Sins,
Depart away from me,
Buried deep within my soul,
A treasure more valuable than gold!
********************************
Anthony Slausen
Treasure Chest...What's in yours?
Have you found it yet? Contest
You!have turned a CROSS of simple hope into some kind of SWASTIKA joke!
you spurned sandals of protection into jackboots for vandals of destruction.
you were blessed by your pope!and the patriarch of jewish dope!
with those arabs you made emperors,using loose change from the templars!
you turned towards the latest threat and burnt the hordes of soviets!
like Jericho!you turn to Berlins walls!now you strike inwards for the final fall!
now all states!towns!and home!plows the devastated rounds on tv,s or phones!
You sit upon the throne of a pharaohs dream!to choose a BUTTON?HALO?..a scream?
Somewhere in a cottage down by the lake lands hidden
out of sight...superstition is like a religion no one
understands... well and in the darkness of the night
Lightning strikes the water parting the rain as I sit
here by Candlelight looking through a wooden window
pane...I hear your knock on my door but like the
black widow spider that guards it's nest of treasures
you should know better now Some spells are forever
and some paths are not to be tread on, never...well and
now this is something not even I can undo even in all
my magic I cannot bring you back and that's that...
cursed is the dark side of the mountain and the
village you came from in the shadow of the black
whole sun well I wear this ancient amulet for
protection and keep to myself...if only some Brave
Hearts would do that themselves but they never
learn some spells are forever...looking out across the
lake lands I see their spirits and the blood soaked
sands of 1313 and a Knight Templars LastEndeavour.
The Tal-Dareem are fighting-mad;
They've realized they've just been had.
Expect soon Zealots and Stalkers,
Immortals and those "cliff walkers".
What matter's most: who's standing last,
So hit 'em hard and hit 'em fast.
Carriers and Voids will fill the sky,
And Dark Templars may be sneakin' by.
Double the turrets, add more bunkers--
Fill them with Marines and Marauders.
What matters most: who's standing last,
So hit 'em hard and hit 'em fast!
Jim's Raiders' troops will soon be back;
Get ready to counter-attack!
So train more Reapers for rear missions:
Sneak around back, take out their pylons.
Make sure we're the ones left standing last.
Just hit 'em hard and hit 'em fast.
Exhilaration runs thorough every pore.
With time’s wisdom, my doubts have vacated,
My eyes have opened like never before.
New discoveries keep me elated.
The Kensington rune stone I learned today
May have been carried by the Norse blood line,
Along with the Templars who came to stay
As they discovered the New World divine.
Welcomed by Natives who became their friends
They buried their treasure with-in the land.
An intricate puzzle stone to stone lends
Of several run carvings chiseled by hand.
The hooked X gives proof the Templars were here.
On American soil they staked their claim,
To later return without doubts or fear;
Safe from their hunters, escaping their fame.
To join with Freemasons, the great and bold,
Those who governed the New World from the start.
Their story continues from days of old
To present powers in which they take part.
They now control congress and all the banks.
We the people are their pawns it would seem.
We live in ignorance as we give thanks
For freedoms we don’t have, yet we esteem.
Still I like to believe what I learned in school
That our nation is great as we shout loud,
Ignoring the fact that we might be fools.
I love my country of which I’m still proud.
Most Americans are honest and true;
Standards of freedom will always remain.
We help others when disasters ensue,
Donating dollars and time without gain.
The few in greed that may govern our land
Will not remove from our people who care;
Those loving and kind who offer their hand,
Those who I’m hoping the world is aware.
http://www.committeefilms.com/#/documentaries/holy-grail-in-america/
http://www.hookedx.com/film.asp
Note:
The Kensington runestone inscriptions were made by explorers from Gotland, an
island off Sweden that had a military monastic order that was possibly the Knights
Templar. The above links better explain this poem.
Once upon a time
there was a beautiful girl;
a mysterious deep sleep
she fell into made her friends
and foes to coin her
the name "Sleeping Beauty".
A curse was bestowed on her
by a witch – the hands of time
kept on moving as she lay
motionless, never getting old.
The Crusade Wars and Templars
came and left,
as she still lay on her bed. No one
knew how to wake her up.
Napoleon, Henry the Navigator,
Poe, and Shakespeare kissed
her lips, but she didn't wake up.
“Only true love can wake her up!”
the witch had declared, eons back.
One day, a young man from the countryside came
with nothing but his brush and paint. He loved Sleeping Beauty’s
legends so much that he painted her. He felt her sweet natured
passions in every stories he heard about her.
One who wanted to really know her had come.
One who truly loved her had come.
Slowly she opened her eyes……
Date: 27/1/2016
MEN OF LETTERS is a secret underground
society, some say they've been around since
the 1930's, some say they go all the way
back to the Knight Templars, all I know is
that they still exist today but don't ask me
how I know 'cuz I was sworn to secrecy but
I will tell you what I can without giving it all
away...
THE MEN OF LETTERS have thousands of
files on the supernatural from creatures we
thought were myth’s, to creatures we've
never even heard of before, only other secret
societies are granted permission to go through
their extensive library from time to time but
they never have more than hour to find the
information they come to find 'cuz the
MEN OF LETTERS have thousands and
thousands of files on the supernatural but
some things will always remain under lock
and key for only their eyes to see 'cuz it
would mean the end of the world if it ever
got into the wrong hands so THE MEN OF
LETTERS have to stay one step ahead of
every new generation that doesn't quite
understand just how powerful knowledge
can be but these MEN OF LETTERS
are the sons of the legacy...
a pure bloodline passed down over time...
guardians of the supernatural....
guardians of knowledge all powerful...
MEN OF LETTERS...
MEN OF LETTERS...
The magician is my own bodily templar
Weep not is i’’,me as if it wert me I,cried.is,the mathers,
A fornicated blessed oh how when me do is,so much, violet Firth, weep estrange one
Me is the kabalah, we me i see Jeffries, oh how me yet does be seek the,tarot
Be yes to loved me as did i met a.shawn,she,ask,whom dids’t he, how i wert tis
Shock me ohdear asdoes adragon isthe older shamrock. Dearishe i frater,me,meme i clear show
Frailties, todo else is the leader'he shew me my own,grown tau me worshipful pro,price
Averdition odd me how be,i,were these occult me, shew,memoderator,ship,tis,old,it,pale,hey,you.,be,i,bleak,it,istriangular,weep,not
Hell,hail,bestowed,myown,garbage,is,my,yankeedoodle
Aceremony,shell,i,weep,mebe,sold,must,e'magical'tools,
Esterick'me'oder'thegolden'dawn,weep'it'isnot'forcaster,weep'a'talent'myproctor'faceisit'yay'be'soldier
shewtisi''.belief'a'dream'tisi'meadirect'dracula,'hunt'itbe,shot,shock'bdrak'teachhypnosis
Charmed by a witch in the days of the Knight Templars
Reflections in the dark, Reflections of the heart
and as the moon goes across the mountains here
I remember firelight and snowfall and an ivy coved
castle wall where the love of ages hasn't lost it's magic
since then and now again at all
Nothing much has changed but for the passin' of time
like tiny grains of sand slippin' through our hands
as the tide turns in a twisted sort of way but I believe
in the power of now and I still believe in miracles
somehow
Back through the blue crystal mirror like a ghost
in the fog of the night, on an ancient quest to a
different kind of world as hands move faster than
the speed of light I come finding you down by
silver swan pond when I needed you, you knew
I 'd never be too long gone
And again as the moon goes across the mountains
I recall firelight and snowfall, Reflections in the dark
Reflections of the heart where the love of ages hasn't
lost it's magic at all and I still believe the magic now
I still believe in you somehow as in the days of the
Knights Templars Reflections, Reflections as they are.
Faced with dangers that linger in uncertain times,
Time and again, we’ve danced the spiral climb.
Who controls the strings, the sacred rites of flight?
The unseen hand beneath the veil of night.
Wi-Fi whispers through walls we can’t see,
A.I hums in algorithms, beyond ones and threes.
Empires fall, their ashes cradle keys,
To truths whispered by Templars, dragons, and seas.
Atlantis drowned, Antarctica’s icy embrace,
Anunnaki, Nephilim lost in time’s chase.
Do we leap? Do we fight? Or let mysteries be,
And accept that the unknown is humanity’s plea?