Montsgur
I stand alone in this desolate space
In death they are truly alive
Massacred innocence, evil took place
The angels were burning inside
Centuries later I wonder why
What secret that they took to their grave
Still burning heretics under our skies
Religion's still burning inside
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
As we kill them all so god will know his own
The innocents died for the pope on his throne
Catholic greed and its paranoid zeal
Curse of the grail and the blood of the cross
Templar believers with blood on their hands
Joined in the choruse to kill on demand
Burned at the stake for their soul's liberty
To stand with the cathars to die and be free
The book of old testament crippled and black
Satan his weapon is lust
Living this evil damnation of flesh
Back to the torture of life
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
As we kill them all so god know his own
Laugh at the darkness and in god we trust
The eye of the triangle smiling with sin
No passover feast for the cursed within
Facing the sun as they went to their grave
Burn like a dog or you live like a slave
Death is the price for your soul's liberty
To stand with the cathars and to die and be free
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
At Cashel
ABOVE me stand, worn from their ancient use,
The King's, the Bishop's, and the Warrior's house,
Quiet as folds upon a grassy knoll:
Stark-grey they stand, wall joined to ancient wall,
Chapel, and Castle, and Cathedral.
It is not they are old, but stone by stone
Into another lifetime they have grown,
The life of memories an old man has:
They dream upon what things have come to pass,
And know that stones grow friendly with the grass.
The name has crumbled CASHEL that has come
From conqueror-challenging CASTELLUM
Walls m a name! No citadel is here,
Now as a fane the empty walls uprear
Where green and greener grass spreads far and near!
poem by Padraic Colum
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I Have Been Through The Gates
His heart to me, was a place of palaces and pinnacles and shining towers;
I saw it then as we see things in dreams,--I do not remember how long I slept;
I remember the tress, and the high, white walls, and how the sun was always on the
towers;
The walls are standing to-day, and the gates; I have been through the gates, I have
groped, I have crept
Back, back. There is dust in the streets, and blood; they are empty; darkness is over
them;
His heart is a place with the lights gone out, forsaken by great winds and the heavenly
rain, unclean and unswept,
Like the heart of the holy city, old blind, beautiful Jerusalem;
Over which Christ wept
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
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Kill Me Now
tears of blood run down my face
as thorns rip through my skin
this underworld realm i tear into
the hollow walls sheet thin
i'm a bestial nature scout
black lace im shielded in
down for this coffin ride adventure
sign the blank as satan for next of kin
my hands claw in putrid dirt for the devil
mouth parched in thirst for him
i rip up the roots of hell
and drink their blood to feel his grin
kill me now i'm ready
i wait at the gates of the darkness inn
ready to be eaten from the inside out
to dance with the demons in sin
poem by Adrienne Sharpe
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I Shade
By blood, in the night -
My blood to my veins -
To blood i am drawn -
I am never alone -
Not even when I am throne to my bones -
Againt the walls -
With lights at flicker -
She claws the walls -
My shadow -
I can hear her -
My shade -
To my side -
I feel her -
I will confide -
I need her -
I am broken -
Without her -
I seek her -
Long was the wait -
What breaks her -
Is the light of dawn -
Helpless -
I can heal her
poem by Unic Cjonr
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Maze Of Power
Where were you when powers were to blame?
Return to the cities of treasure when it is time.
Going into cities of gold, the gates were bombarded
And the gates were opened to the people of cowardice.
You are not too treasured as a time is,
You are selfless when others are selfish,
Your pen runs thin after a line of ink.
May blame be given not forsaken,
The men who are plain with transgression
Are to be in a fountain of blood.
The blood of places is the blood of reward,
We see like others in this maze of buildings.
poem by Naveed Akram
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City gate
Men may say a “natural state”
With city walls and city gates
Is superfluous in it’s greed
And in attempts to make believe
We’re all in honest company.
Yet give a thing autonomy
And choice: Order or anarchy
You’ll find that things like property
And city walls and city gates
Come often all too easily
To a truly “human” state
poem by Lazarus Knix
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Be Joyful
Let the saints be joyful in glory and,
Let them sing aloud on their beds!
For the sound of the rain is heard all over;
And we have to give ear to this poem.
I will give you grain, wine and oil for my love;
And of the sweet incense from my aroma to keep you calm,
For i am sent on this earth to help others!
Because i am like a father to the fatherless and,
A mother to the motherless as well in this universe!
STones of turquoise,
Foundation of sapphires,
Winfdows of rubies,
Gates of crystal,
And walls of precious stones!
Give seed to the farmer and let the saints be joyful;
For there is more to the earth itself than thought!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Walls
Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.
Walls quite short and walls quite tall,
Some walls, last well, some walls fall,
Walls for comfort, walls of hate,
Walls for security, walls ornate.
Some as a barricade, some to support,
Walls of wood and walls of iron wrought,
Walls as a barrier, walls to enclose,
Some are to sit on, some to lean and doze.
Walls we build ourselves, these aren't good,
Walls for privacy, walls that have stood,
So many years through weather foul or fine,
Walls, that are yours, walls that are mine.
Brick by brick they are built to last,
Whether built now or in the past,
They shelter us from so many things,
And shield us from whatever this life brings.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Dead Cow Farm
An ancient saga tells us how
In the beginning the First Cow
(For nothing living yet had birth
But Elemental Cow on earth)
Began to lick cold stones and mud:
Under her warm tongue flesh and blood
Blossomed, a miracle to believe:
And so was Adam born, and Eve.
Here now is chaos once again,
Primeval mud, cold stones and rain.
Here flesh decays and blood drips red,
And the Cow’s dead, the old Cow’s dead.
poem by Robert Graves
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An easy approach to the walls must be provided against: indeed they should be surrounded by uneven ground, and the roads leading to the gates should be winding and turn to the left from the gates.
quote by Marcus V. Pollio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prisoner
I'm on the run, I'll kill to eat,
Starving now, feeling dead on my feet.
Going all the way, I'm nature's beast.
Do what i want, I do as i please.
Run, you've gotta fight, to breathe, it's tough.
Now you see me, now you don't.
Break the walls, I'm coming out.
I'm not a prisoner, I'm a free man,
And my blood is my own now.
Don't care where the past was,
I know where I'm going...out.
If you kill me, it's self defence.
If I kill you, then I call it vengeance.
Spit in your eye, I will defy.
You'll be afraid when I call out your name.
Run, you've gotta fight, to breathe, it's tough.
Now you see me, now you don't.
Break the walls, I'm coming out.
I'm not a prisoner, I'm a free man,
And my blood is my own now.
Don't care where the past was,
I know where I'm going.
I'm not a number, I'm a free man,
I'll live my life how i want to.
You'd better scratch me
from your black book,
'Cause I'll run rings around you
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Communist Lying In Bursa Citadel
your beloved is a communist
who has been in prison
since ten years
lying in bursa citadel
he lıes ther
improsened
but his chains broken apert
he reached
the ultımate post in the world
but lıes in bursa citadel
his roots are in the country soil
bears the burden like sheik bedreddin
he lies in bursa citadel
his heart has not been drilled
and not sticking
and is brave as before as ever
his song has not been finished or exhausted
full of hope
still not losıng the paradise yet
he lies in the prison
that lies in BURSA CITADEL
Nazım HİKMET Translatıon Metin ŞAhin
poem by Metin Sahin
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Walls Of Red Wing
Oh, the age of the inmates
I remember quite freely:
No younger than twelve,
No older n seventeen.
Thrown in like bandits
And cast off like criminals,
Inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
From the dirty old mess hall
You march to the brick wall,
Too weary to talk
And too tired to sing.
Oh, its all afternoon
You remember your home town,
Inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
Oh, the gates are cast iron
And the walls are barbed wire.
Stay far from the fence
With the lectricity sting.
And its keep down your head
And stay in your number,
Inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
Oh, its fare thee well
To the deep hollow dungeon,
Farewell to the boardwalk
That takes you to the screen.
And farewell to the minutes
They threaten you with it,
Inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
Its many a guard
That stands around smilin,
Holdin his club
Like he was a king.
Hopin to get you
Behind a wood pilin,
Inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
The night aimed shadows
Through the crossbar windows,
And the wind punched hard
To make the wall-siding sing.
Its many a night I pretended to be a-sleepin,
Inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
As the rain rattled heavy
On the bunk-house shingles,
And the sounds in the night,
They made my ears ring.
til the keys of the guards
Clicked the tune of the morning,
Inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
Oh, some of usll end up
In st. cloud prison,
And some of usll wind up
To be lawyers and things,
And some of usll stand up
To meet you on your crossroads,
From inside the walls,
The walls of red wing.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Murder is a Colorful Thing
Red is the color of the blood splashed on the walls of my home.
Orange is the color of her stained shirt because of the red of the blood splashed on the walls of my home.
Yellow is the color of her shirt before it was stained orange because of the red of the blood splashed on the walls of my home.
Green is the color of her stomach as I cut her tummy open through her once yellow shirt stained orange because of the red of the blood splashed on the walls of my home.
Blue is the color of the happy sky while I cut into the green of her tummy through her once yellow shirt now stained orange because of the red of the blood splashed on the walls of my home.
Violet is the color of my swollen face from crying under the blue happy sky while I cut into the green of her tummy through her once yellow shirt now stained orange because of the red of the blood splashed on the walls of my home.
Murder is a colorful thing...
poem by Tamara Buengener
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One Drop of Christ's Blood Shed…
One dropp of blood
of Jesus Christ, shed
Frees millions of sinners
Of their life-time sins!
One dropp of blood
Of Savior Christ, priceless
Absolves the punishments
Of the worst repentant sinners!
One dropp of blood
Of Messiah Christ
Opens the gates of heaven
For souls which yearn for God.
One dropp of blood
Of the slain Lamb of God
Annuls eternal damnation
Of all who repent and plead!
One dropp of blood
Of the Redeemer Christ
Can save mankind
From the fire of Hell!
Such is the immense power
Of the blood of the Son of God,
Who suffered and died upon the cross
for mankind's sake!
The sacred blood of Christ
Can sanctify all souls,
Who are truly sorry from heart,
From time immemorial!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 22-06-12
poem by John Celes
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Macbeth: It will have blood, they say; blood will have blood.
Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak.
line from Macbeth, Act III, Scene 4 by William Shakespeare (1606)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Once you permit those who are convinced of their own superior rightness to censor and silence and suppress those who hold contrary opinions, just at that moment the citadel has been surrendered. For the American citadel is a man. Not man in general. Not man in the abstract. Not the majority of men. But man. That man. His worth. His uniqueness.
quote by Archibald MacLeish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flee Babylon
The Lord our God, He lights our path
In the way that we must go
And the world is tossed by every wave
The wind it blows it to and fro
Stand up, stand up for Jesus
That is our clarion call
As the world begins to crumble
And the walls begin to fall
Why should we fear the darkness?
Why should we fear the light?
Wake up ye sleepy Christians
It's time to stand and fight
We bear the armor of the Lord
Let's step into the fray
Come now and fight while there's still light
And walk while its yet day
For fast the night approaches
With murder in its hand
The gates of hell have come to see
That we no longer stand
And even though they spill our blood
And victory they will hail
And all around be darkness
The gates shall not prevail
For Christ in all His glory
Will come and fill the sky
You'll hear the trumpet blowing
You'll hear the angel cry
Behold the King of glory
He's in His battle dress
And every knee on earth shall bow
And every tongue confess
Tha Jesus Christ is Lord of Lords
And He is King of kings
All glory to Emmanuel
Is what the angel sings
poem by Frank McEleny
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Oh kings so deaf (Please just DIE)
First, I do not expect this one to gain popularity among readers, this intended for the Arab world, only an Arab can understand the frustration caused by what is going on in Gaza..
------****------
Gaza Gaza on this map you see
Another land that is not free
Crowded with people fighting death
Fighting to take another breath
Killed for not taking the bow
In front of a rifle deadly glow
From this day Gaza is red
Like the Blood that was shed
A new, real & burning holocaust
To kill the innocents at all cost
No aid from the desert kings
Busy kissing boots & things
That I can not mention here
Kings of filth, kings by fear
On the land on your western sides
Lies the coward who always hides
Closing his gates from helping you
Knowing his people hates him too
All around Gaza fall the silence
That can not hide that violence
In your land, far and around
The People never forgot the bound
People will keep rocking this ground
To help you there, to stop the sound
Of gun fire & the stuka’s cries
To stop the fire & the smoke that flies
Hear me now.. Kings of our demise
Enough with you, it is time to rise
Sacred you aren’t nor are you divine
You live by stealing the rights of mine
Open the gates of our frontiers
Blood cries for blood, tears for tears
Eye for an eye, hear our cry
Oh kings so deaf, please just DIE
poem by Haytem Fakroun
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History Stones People.
History stones people.
They stoned Moses, David and Linclon,
history did that for all to see
Marbel and cement,
that's all it leaves behind
of a long changing life.
Great heroes of time,
fall under the mercy
of the sculptor's knife.
History stones faces,
in a way that would make
ecclestias cringe.
History stones feet,
in a way that would make
piligrims cry.
History stones life
to always stay fresh,
yet, what is life without
the sins of the flesh.
All the radical kids
get stoned
and never change
or even move a muscle.
All the sword raising warriors
history stoned
without blood in their veins.
You can see all the victims
that history stoned
when you walk in the park,
they got kings
and queens
hell, they even got Gods.
They are there captive
in history's stones,
never to be again what they were;
wilting flesh and
breakable bones.
People look up at them
they are victims too.
History's stones fall far,
even on to you.
Those stoned to live
are like the ones stoned to die.
enslaved to the search
of the frozen smile.
Life is a burning bush
that doesn't get consumed.
not a dead rock
or a statue of history.
It's a fusing wind
of happinnes and misery.
An exploding volcano
of courage and fear.
It is the stem of the flower
struggling through the seasons
to stand and bloom
above the drying soil.
Life is the fighting wave
you see at sea
forgotten and denied
by the stones of history.
poem by Samuel Katz
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