36grit
August 2nd 2005, 07:23 PM
Is it because a house divided can not stand? Circumcise your eyes and you'll be suprised to find
who is lurking in your mind but let me tell you this one thing
If he says he is a man of God and then says kiss my ring offer your feat to him
Any true man of God
would most certainly wash them.
Tell him to kiss your ring would be to worship you
and to that would be a sin.
Tell me all you heretic hunters and heretic mopers and who ever who are you. Is this poem a reminder of the past, or a glimpse into the future? or is it nothing at all.
Inquisitors Paradise
Vomit, The foul stench of death, stomach twists, you vomit.
Agents of confusion strap your warm naked body to the cold hard table.
Chills, you shiver the cold sweat rolls down. Quivering electric nerves you tremble.
Flickering torches,
light the stone walls of darkness.
Fear of pain grips your thoughts as you feel the course ropes tightening around your limbs.
The lever man laughs as the ratcheting heart beat of torture stretches your body. Demons rush in and dance to the song of hell.
Ligaments tearing, bones popping, pain screams the blood curdling melody,
while the back ground singers sing,
"Confess your sins to the holy father of the roman catholic torture chamber."
Heretic heroes state their opinions
The strong were burned alive!
When the spirit of God raises them from the dead
How will the pope and his papacy survive?
who is lurking in your mind but let me tell you this one thing
If he says he is a man of God and then says kiss my ring offer your feat to him
Any true man of God
would most certainly wash them.
Tell him to kiss your ring would be to worship you
and to that would be a sin.
Tell me all you heretic hunters and heretic mopers and who ever who are you. Is this poem a reminder of the past, or a glimpse into the future? or is it nothing at all.
Inquisitors Paradise
Vomit, The foul stench of death, stomach twists, you vomit.
Agents of confusion strap your warm naked body to the cold hard table.
Chills, you shiver the cold sweat rolls down. Quivering electric nerves you tremble.
Flickering torches,
light the stone walls of darkness.
Fear of pain grips your thoughts as you feel the course ropes tightening around your limbs.
The lever man laughs as the ratcheting heart beat of torture stretches your body. Demons rush in and dance to the song of hell.
Ligaments tearing, bones popping, pain screams the blood curdling melody,
while the back ground singers sing,
"Confess your sins to the holy father of the roman catholic torture chamber."
Heretic heroes state their opinions
The strong were burned alive!
When the spirit of God raises them from the dead
How will the pope and his papacy survive?