W-holy Roman Whore
Church was built upon Martyred bones
And blood sacrifice of “Rabble” served
Plagiarized Pagan myth n’ ancient tomes
Still performing black magic unobserved
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Related quotes
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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Black Hearts Hide ‘neath Black Dresses
Black hearts hide ‘neath black dresses
‘Whilst being called "Father and Priest"
"Abstinence makes Church grow fondlers"
So upon the naïve n' innocent they feast
ROTMS
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rotms.blogspot.com
poem by Ray Lucero
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Obeah Healer
"Obiman" (a shaman) lives in Cuba;
Who can levitate and walk on water
Taught herbs n' healing by "Annuba"
A mermaid who gave him a daughter
Obiman's blood remembers "Mu"
Ancient homeland lost 'neath the sea
Volcanoes n' earthquakes left no clue
'Cept the highest peaks, Hawaii to Fiji
A few souls survived on "Easter Island"
Another peak of land above the waves
Living with stone sentries buried in sand
To despair n' isolation they were slaves
The magic of Mu in Obiman still thrives
In 100 years he's saved a thousand lives
ROTMS
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rotms.blogspot.com
poem by Ray Lucero
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Forgotten Heroes
They have not lived in vain
Those forgotten heroes…
Who cry out from the grave;
“Have they not built new,
Towers, from our bones? ”
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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The Sail Of Charon
The sails of charon
Dark night, there is no light in the realm of the black magic man
Souls flight into the cold blight of the destroyers magic land
Poor man whose spirits are stronger
There the ones who will reign, your strugglings are in vain
Blind man, youre sucking your own blood
Soon black magics dying, youd better start crying
Blind man, youre sucking your own blood
Soon black magics dying, youd better start crying
Burn out your evil desire
The dark angels kingdom is built out of mire...
Burn out your evil desire
The dark angels kingdom is built out of mire
Keep out for the kingdom of light
There is no darkness, and there is no night
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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rainbow People
Gone is the church
Gone the steeple
Tower of Babel fell
Good men did rebel
Hearts' spoke as one
‘Neath moon n' sun;
'We're Rainbow People'
ROTMS
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rotms.blogspot.com
poem by Ray Lucero
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A Pagan Place
How did he come here?
Who gave him the key?
Slipped it in his hand
So secretly
And who put the colour
Like lines on his face?
Brought him here
To a pagan place
Now who shot his arrow?
How high did it fly?
When he tipped it with poison
Did he even know why?
What unseen hand
Brought him face to face to face to face with
All this and more
In a pagan place?
Come into my parlour
Sail in at my shore
Drink my soul dry
There is always more
There is always more after now
Fly on my carpet
Look into my face
See the heart of man
In a pagan
In a pagan
In a pagan
In a pagan
In a pagan
Pagan...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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White Magic Women
White magic women seen walking on the rode
White magic women with poison lips and bitter eyes
White magic women with that black magic hair
White magic women with skin and bones
I saw that white magic women on that rode
I saw her kiss you with those poison lips and stare with bitter eyes
I saw that black magic hair
I saw that white magic women with skin and bones
I saw that white magic women
poem by Jasmine Shipp
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License To Kill?
“Drop weapon” is the military term
“A get out of jail card” or “Magic pill”
When asked the U.S. Generals squirm
About this illegal/unspoken license to kill
ROTMS
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poem by Ray Lucero
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Yehoshua
A babe born long ago of virgin birth
A story sold many times before
Fact or myth define they're worth
Sad tales that end in blood 'n gore
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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His True Church
I know many religious people, and one Church with no steeple,
A church that’s built with no walls, built on only believing souls,
Built upon an Eternal Foundation, that being our very Salvation,
Built upon The One Cornerstone, and that is Jesus Christ alone.
Many, who worship in a building, to Truth alone, are unyielding,
Building a church on tradition, God’s Truth, with man’s addition,
Added to the work finished by, Jesus Christ who reigns on high,
Ignoring His words “it is finished”, Grace by many is diminished.
Men making a way to Heaven, not by grace but religious leaven,
Building church in a human way, as they lead many souls astray,
As many souls weekly perch, in the pews of a manmade church,
Relying on their religious activity, to help them work into eternity.
“I will build my Church” He said, that was Christ, who is the Head,
Head of His True Church on earth, filled with souls, by New Birth,
All members being Born Again, into His Church, not one of men,
You’ll find, you no longer search, as a member of God’s Church.
Jesus is the Way, Truth and Life, as Head of the Church of Christ,
And each of us is a living stone, built through faith in Christ alone,
His Church He proceeds to build, to complete as His Father willed,
Leading the only True Church friend, as others shall see in the end.
Women & Multi-tasking
“Women are great at multi-tasking” is just a myth!
To say they are would be the perfect crime!
“If women are so bloody perfect at multi-tasking,
Why can’t they have a headache n’ sex at the same time? ”
(Thank you Billy Connolly & MKP for your keen sense of humor)
ROTMS
Read latest writings by ROTMS at
http: //rotms.blogspot.com/
poem by Ray Lucero
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Their Own Myth
They swagger through the wastelands
of their own myth
believing the fantasy
they have built around themselves
of how great they are.
The shallow walls they built around themselves
with one stone could crumble away.
You see them in their peacock glory
prancing around everywhere.
Their heads stretched above the clouds
believing their own myth.
Their feet of clay can only erode
in the full flush of tidal waters.
Their peacock strut will become a limp
when their myth is broken
and things begin to challenge them.
For once, the tidal gate
is breached by leading questions
the clay feet and peacock strut
will be washed away,
and a new myth will absorb,
of bowing head and desperate look in eyes,
as their shallow walls crumble under tidal waters
and their own myth of self-greatness
loses momentum to sustain.
poem by David Harris
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Julian in Nicomedia
Things impolitic and dangerous:
praise for Greek ideals,
supernatural magic, visits to pagan temples.
Enthusiasm for the ancient gods.
Frequent talks with Chrysanthios.
Speculation with Maximus, the astute philosopher.
And look what's happened. Gallos is extremely worried.
Konstantios has become suspicious.
Julian's advisors weren't at all prudent.
The matter, says Mardonios, has gone too far,
the talk it has aroused must be stopped at all cost.—
So Julian goes to the church at Nicomedia,
a lector again, and there
with deep reverence he reads out loud
passages from the Holy Scriptures,
and everyone marvels at his Christian piety.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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MISSILES vs. STONES
Zionists' rain deadly missiles,
Palestinians' answer with stones
"To protect our citizens"
Say Israelis with pride,
Then bury flesh n' bones
To hide genocide
ROTMS
http: //youtu.be/wYJ1Nj_FiEI
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ROTMS.blogspot.com
poem by Ray Lucero
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Without a doubt the greatest injury of all was done by basing morals on myth. For, sooner or later, myth is recognized for what it is, and disappears. Then morality loses the foundation on which it has been built.
quote by Lord Samuel (1947)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Without doubt the greatest injury was done by basing morals on myth, for sooner or later myth is recognized for what it is, and disappears. Then morality loses the foundation on which it has been built.
quote by Herbert Samuel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Magic
Would it need the black magic
On the swords are the hands of men
Black magic and the bunch of followers
Black magic they say away
Axed heads on the sway
Reason and unreason no wonder
Black magic still stay
The bunch of followers like cult
Closed minds on mantras swing
Islamabad
2/4/2010
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Biblical Audiology
prophetic verses set like smooth stones
past the camels dry chiseled steps.
next to a parable and a jawbone.
the dead sea testamental tongues
leaflike water the valley of acacia
transposing thier verbal vernacular.
the oral traditions passed down
by the giver of ghost
and imprinted on the skull
bones of martyred saints.
down where bone becomes papris,
the course stones shed thier skin.
and under the fingernails of an old
god the fossils prophesy.
yes the dry bones prophesy...
speaking in ancient acrostic constructs,
verse by verse their biblical audiologies
unfold in an east wind.
poem by Nathan Martin
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Eucharist
Precious gift of flesh/blood
Christos, in remembrance
Stolen by the Roman Church
Redirected flocks' reverence
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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