Of Secret Societies
By: Fee
The decayed rot of secret coded talk
Where Rome a fable created to ignore
Into the dark abyss of hatred measured
No righteous God could live there anymore
Contaminated retained relic memories
Like cracked old black and whites
Store-bought passion of convictions
Brushed off filth of endless nights
Pages deleted and fresh ones made
Twisted truth in mystic fear
To sanctify the will of men in robes
Keep the masses in unlearned fear
Summer breeze along a headwind
Billowed white sails a cross of red
The Knights looked always eastward
Clues garnered neath the Northern Cross rock bed
Crusades of genocide bless the Holy route
The temple Solomon once rose and fell
Grave skeletons sit witness to the void
Where false Gods there may linger still
The thirteenth day of a Friday
To this day the doomed remind
Hearsay and the false temples fell
On private eyes forever blind…
Sheila
God bless you. Kathy
enjoy!
Vesna
Powerful write, Fee!
Love,
Becca~
Love & hugs
Selena
Love ya face Cuz XOXOXO Rose
Take care,
Sherry
But the poem gives us something to think after been to church...
..."it was all worthed?..." because those white bones can't tell us for certain.
Georg
And it seems they sadly still go on. Quite a powerful piece, Fee.
Man' design has little to do with God's will, though millions are put to the slaughter, all in the Name of God. I hear yah Fee.
Hugs Ch'erie
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D
Ron
Keep the masses in unlearned fear . . ."
Love this! Wonderful writing; very intriguing topic.
Yer buddy,
Boots Dorfman