Related quotes: Ritual murder is referred to...

Ritual murder is referred to in court files which are located in Rome. There are pictures in it which show that in 23 cases, the Church itself has dealt with the question.

quote by Julius Streicher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Premeditation

Oh blade you'll warm tonight!
Awash in crimson-purple flows,
Your sheen will dull with aching flesh:
Palpating anatomic mounds
Caressing, dancing, writhing round
Your metal form-
Whetted ‘gainst a lonely bone,
Then to probe the pounding, begging heart.

And all the while the prey will howl
Before they crumple; greet the mud-
A taut and unbelieving jowl
Will open out for giving blood-
A vent from down below,
Once a brutal show
Of metal in the man.

murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder murder murder murder murder
murder murder
murder murder
murder

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Knife

Slit and
Slither knife
Penetrate in phallic push
To perforate the pulse of tissues in the flesh
Slice a vein to drain the unsuspecting victim
E’er they bleed and plea
Their scream
Of death

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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You know, there are only about 10 people in the United States that have ever argued 25 cases before the Supreme Court, this man has won 25 cases before the Supreme Court. He's an overwhelming choice.

quote by Rod Parsley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Regent's Court

Regent's court
Is the court were the police brings the criminals to be sentenced
Every singe day during the week
Some criminals caused serious offences in the city
That they need to be punished by the Regent's court
Also some of the Judges will be hard on the criminals
Because they need to pay for what they done to their victims
And the crown procecutor also works with the judges at Regent's court
But the criminals have their lawyers at the court that defends the Criminals because the criminals are their clients
When the day comes for the judges at the Regent's Court to deliver The sentence for each criminal every single day they will be there At The Regent's Court every single day giving the sentence to the criminals depending on what crime they commited like assault, Domestic violence, child abuse,
Drug trafficking, manslaughter, and murder
For first degree murder is 25 years and for the second degree murder is less

poem by Aldo Kraas
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You watch the Supreme Court in action on these cases, and they are a conflicted court. However, when it comes to speech issues generally, the court has been protective.

quote by Jay Alan Sekulow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Church Is Built On Bloody Bones

The church is built on bloody bones,
Broken martyrs, burning homes;
The church is built on bloody bones-
Not singing angels, golden thrones.

The church is built on murder, rage,
Plunder, anger and pillage;
The church is built on murder, rage-
There's no escaping murders wage.

The church you choose informs your soul,
If you're shattered, if you're whole;
The church you choose informs your soul-
So be sure it's worthy goal.

poem by Patti Masterman
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The irony of the Supreme Court hearing on these cases last week and of the outright hostility that the Court has displayed against religion in recent years is that above the head of the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court is a concrete display of the Ten Commandments.

quote by Cliff Stearns
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder” (The Billion-Dollar Question)

We must all stay aware…..,
Of the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder….,
It’s been increasing for years….,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !

Can’t dare turn our backs….,
On the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
It’ll sneak up and kill us…,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !

It’s hard to believe and conceive….
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
That’s why so many are blind….,
To the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder …! ! !

We’ve seen the bloody attacks…..,
Of the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
So we must face the facts….,
On the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !

Yes they’re after us all…,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
Their radical religion condones it….,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !

Can we control it or stop it….,
So it won’t go any further….? ? ?
That’s the billion-dollar question….,
On the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder …! ! !

poem by Trade Martin
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Rated X

Blazing steel on the horizon
In the desert
Forces like the ultimate poseidon
The arrival
Although it burns your eyes
The government denies
Rated x
Not allowed to know
Its rated x
No files to show
The men in power call you liars
Its suppression
They say you never saw it so forget it
All oppression
Theyre passing on the lies
The bunkers full of files
Rated x
You better not care
Its rated x
The facts are somewhere out there
Can we ever trust each other
To believe in
They keep the information under cover
Its not needed
The legacy is born
They classify us all
Rated x
Not allowed to know
Its rated x
No files to show
Rated x
You better not care
Its rated x
The facts are somewhere out here
Rated x
Its rated x

song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reliance On Murder

Your reliance on my vision instils murder,
The murder comes from the dirty mind.
Murder is the culmination of centuries of work
And fulfilling is the question, so wonderful is the crime.
May we relish the golden feeling attached to this trick
We see around like the sun and its planets are also around.
Rely on them for your basic needs,
Your needs for knowledge will spring back.
Then murder of the dragons is even not desired,
Even the massacre has betrayed the man of special virtue.

poem by Naveed Akram
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The Hair

The ritual evanesced when we observed it,
The ritual completed when our lice grew.
The head was full of lice, I hear them and saw each of them,
Restraining the children with feet, the arms also.
Inexorable lice swayed in the hair of our heads
Until the ritual was entire.
What is this ritual?
The ritual is of the dressing of hair,
Or the cutting of hair by the hairdresser.

poem by Naveed Akram
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The Files

Files
The Files -
Office Files !
Oblige me by referring to the Files.
Every question man can raise,
Every phrase of every phrase
Of that question is on record in the Files -
(Threshed out threadbare - fought and finished in the Files
Ere the Universe at large
Was our new-tipped arrows' targe -
Ere we rediscovered Mammon and his wiles
Faeza gentle reader, spent her-five-and-twentieth leader
(You will find him, and some others, in the Files).
Warn all coming Robert Brownings and Carlyles,
It will interest them to hunt among the Files
Where unvisited, a-cold,
Lie the crowded years of old
In that Kensal-Green of greatness called the Files
(In our newspaPère-la-Chaise the Office Files),
Where the dead men lay them down
Meekly sure of long renown,
And above them, sere and swift,
Packs the daily deepening drift
Of the all-recording, all-effacing Files
The obliterating, automatic Files.
Count the mighty men who slung
Ink, Evangel, Sword, or Tongue
When Reform and you were young
Made their boasts and spake according in the Files
(Hear the ghosts that wake applauding in the Files!)
Trace each all-forgot career
From long primer through brevier
Unto Death, a para minion in the Files
(Para minion-solid-bottom of the Files). . . .
Some successful Kings and Queens adorn the Files.
They were great, their views were leaded,
And their deaths were triple-headed,
So they catch the eye in running through the Files
(Show as blazes in the mazes of the Files);
For their 'paramours and priests,'
And their gross, jack-booted feasts,
And their 'epoch-marking actions' see the Files.
Was it Bomba fled the blue Sicilian isles?
Was it Saffi, a professor
Once of Oxford, brought redress or
Garibaldi? Who remembers
Forty-odd-year-old Septembers? -
Only sextons paid to dig among the Files (Such as I am, born and bred among the Files).
You must hack through much deposit
Ere you know for sure who was it
Came to burial with such honour in the Files (Only seven seasons back beneath the Files).
'Very great our loss and grievous - 'So our best and brightest leave us,
'And it ends the Age of Giants,' say the Files;
All the '60-'70-'80'-'90 Files
(The open-minded, opportunist Files ?
The easy ' 0 King, live for ever ' Files).
It is good to read a little in the Files;
'Tis a sure and sovereign balm
Unto philosophic calm,
Yea, and philosophic doubt when Life beguiles
When you know Success is Greatness,
When you marvel at your lateness
In apprehending facts so plain to Smiles
(Self-helpful, wholly strenuous Samuel Smiles).
When your Imp of Blind Desire
Bids you set the Thames afire,
You'll remember men have done so - in the Files.
You'll have seen those flames transpire - in the Files
(More than once that flood has run so - in the Files).
When the Conchimarian horns
Of the reboantic Norns
Usher gentlemen and ladies
With new lights on Heaven and Hades,
Guaranteeing to Eternity
All yesterday's modernity;
When Brocken-spectres made by
Some one's breath on ink parade by,
Very earnest and tremendous,
Let not shows of shows offend us.
When of everything we like we
Shout ecstatic: ' Quod ubique,
'Quod ab omnibus means semper!
Oh, my brother, keep your temper!
Light your pipe and take a look along the Files.
You've a better chance to guess
At the meaning of Success
(Which is Greatness - vide Press)
When you've seen it in perspective in the Files !

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Dire Wolf

In the timbers to fennario, the wolves are running round,
The winter was so hard and cold, froze ten feet neath the ground.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
I sat down to my supper, twas a bottle of red whisky,
I said my prayers and went to bed, thats the last they saw of me.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
When I awoke, the dire wolf, six hundred pounds of sin,
Was grinning at my window, all I said was come on in.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
The wolf came in, I got my cards, we sat down for a game.
I cut my deck to the queen of spades, but the cards were all the same.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
In the backwash of fennario, the black and bloody mire,
The dire wolf collects his dues, while the boys sing round the fire.
Dont murder me, I beg of you, dont murder me. please, dont murder me.
No, no, no dont murder me. I beg of you,
Dont murder me. please, dont murder me.

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sex & The Church

Though the idea of compassion
Is said to be
The union of christ
And his bride, the christian
Its all very puzzling
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
All the great mystic religions
Put strong emphasis, on
Redeame this spiritual qualities
Of sex of sex
Chrstianity
Has been pretty modern
About sex
Of sex of sex of sex of sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
I think there is a union
Between the flesh and the spirit
Its sex and the church
Sex and the church
All religions mother
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex

song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marcus Varro

Marcus Varro went up and down
The places where old books were sold;
He ransacked all the shops in town
For pictures new and pictures old.
He gave the folk of earth no peace;
Snooping around by day and night,
He plied the trade in Rome and Greece
Of an insatiate Grangerite.

'Pictures!' was evermore his cry --
'Pictures of old or recent date,'
And pictures only would he buy
Wherewith to 'extra-illustrate.'
Full many a tome of ancient type
And many a manuscript he took,
For nary purpose but to swipe
Their pictures for some other book.

While Marcus Varro plied his fad
There was not in the shops of Greece
A book or pamphlet to be had
That was not minus frontispiece.
Nor did he hesitate to ply
His baleful practices at home;
It was not possible to buy
A perfect book in all of Rome!

What must the other folk have done --
Who, glancing o'er the books they bought,
Came soon and suddenly upon
The vandalism Varro wrought!
How must their cheeks have flamed with red --
How did their hearts with choler beat!
We can imagine what they said --
We can imagine, not repeat!

Where are the books that Varro made --
The pride of dilettante Rome --
With divers portraitures inlaid
Swiped from so many another tome?
The worms devoured them long ago --
O wretched worms! ye should have fed
Not on the books 'extended' so,
But on old Varro's flesh instead!

Alas, that Marcus Varro lives
And is a potent factor yet!
Alas, that still his practice gives
Good men occasion for regret!
To yonder bookstall, pri'thee, go,
And by the 'missing' prints and plates
And frontispieces you shall know
He lives, and 'extra-illustrates'!

poem by Eugene Field
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Most high courts in other nations do not have discretion, such as we enjoy, in selecting the cases that the high court reviews. Our court is virtually alone in the amount of discretion it has.

quote by Sandra Day O'Connor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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People Take Picture Of Each Other

People take pictures of the Summer,
Just in case someone thought they had missed it,
And to proved that it really existed.
Fathers take pictures of the mothers,
And the sisters take pictures of brothers,
Just to show that they love one another.
You can't picture love that you took from me,
When we were young and the world was free.
Pictures of things as they used to be,
Don't show me no more, please.
People take pictures of each other,
Just to prove that they really existed,
Just to prove that they really existed.
People take pictures of each other,
And the moment to last them for ever,
Of the time when they mattered to someone.
People take pictures of the Summer,
Just in case someone thought they had missed it,
Just to proved that it really existed.
People take pictures of each other,
And the moment to last them for ever,
Of the time when they mattered to someone.
Picture of me when I was just three,
Sucking my thumb by the old oak tree.
Oh how I love things as they used to be,
Don't show me no more, please.

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why The Connections? Apr 13th,2011

Why are church organizations not more involved in abortions?
The once powerful Christian churches caught in High Court distortions,
Why do High Court and Parole Board appointees make their own laws?
Allowing killing clinics and releasing killers just because.

Why do terminally ill patients have to suffer to the end?
Why are we not allowed to have death-with-dignity, my friend?
Why are binding referendums forbidden by our politicians?
Why do we accept without question these ongoing conditions?

Why do Ottawa aristocrats make all our decisions?
Is this nailed down or could we make some Charter revisions?
Why their propaganda of no set-date or mid term elections?
Appointees to Senate, High Court and Parole Board with connections.

Apr 13th,2011

poem by James Bredin
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I think there are a lot of pictures to make. I sometimes question whether I'm even an artist or just a painter. To me, the making of the pictures is the most important thing.

quote by Martin Mull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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North Atlantic Drift

Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Its a cultural shift its the North Atlantic Drift
Americana and a rule Britannia
And the moon yes we own that to
And where the Euphrates meets the other rivers
Is now the home of the devil and the liar
And the pyre we plan to make
Is just the drift leaving its wake, home
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
And the films you want to watch
And the films you want to make
And the kids like lost angels
Dressed in black sensations
And the shift won? shake
And the drift won? brake
With billions of Diamonds growing like olives
And the drift holds the coffers
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns
Meanwhile Rome burns

song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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