The Knights of Mithras (The Centurion Cult of the Early Medieval Period)

Upon invention of the plowshare, and repatriation out of Christianity (the non-literate farmer producing grains and dairies for later revenue unto family for share of vassal of state) and into the Catholic period, the secret arbiters of this decision made themselves known.

They were the Five Houses of Mithras. Descended from Hun astrologers, their bloodline became what you’d call a ‘knight’ in the traditional sense, some bloodless demon of monstrosity that doesn’t even know what he did, before he retires from his life of pillage and takes up a career as a professional wizard of some kind. Ladies are to be had, unless you be a man, then fine grog, and a brew for a woman, with her husband, some beast in bed that doesn’t know who he is from having too many lardcakes pounded upon him – fist and faith, of course.

The basis of European society is upon marks, called cruxes, where a criminal cannot pass, because of superstition, he will have a calamity, the basic type of thievery annotated by the Governors of Rome. When a criminal has committed a crime, they are to be hung a type of symbol, indicating the crime’s ascension in opposite form. Jesus Christ figured out a trick, becoming a boxer and beating a man to death, the husband of Mary Magdelene, then bedding her a year later, to the day, as a prostitute. Christ won the prize, he gets a new criminal token. He’s a priest, he’s real sick.

But moving on, to the knights.

There are five Houses of Mithras, and within this, three knots, a Celtic Bind, a Ring Emerald, and a War Shout.

York: Espionage. This Household protects past architectures of society based on system, non-design, the things that were here before we already pre-existed as animal beasts. They protect the artifice of God, the blade, the hand tool, to strike foe, from thieving, from Me, whomever refers to as self.

Belreve: Assassination. This Household purveys in fine wares, the patent industry, the shoe leather upon which we walk. Anyone taking the last name or family name or custody of shape of a Belreve, must mark themselves with the name, and if guilty, they will be struck, by themselves, hung as if noosed. They purvey suicides.

Dutchez: Ledgerdemain. False card tricks of marked of account, the law signals which will be ignored until court, since they pertain to assassin’s measures, that of intricate interlocking bracelets and the brassiere of life, the bosom, held in the head. The closed wrists, the clenching palm, and the image of the mother’s brassiere, the ramified extraterrestrial at night, the spooky man under the bed. They thieve a finger, and if returned, it must be performed by cross, or else the man shall kill themselves, by own hand if right, by town hand if left, and if state hand if refused and then giving back by sign of assassin.

Clannaboy: Kingdom. These are the cloaks of murderers, the high places and pinnacles to which we all aspire. Clannaboy takes the dark shards of society, those murderers and tyrants and bigots, and places them in council around themselves, where they can do no harm, becoming secret societies of witches, the powerful and feckless, the parliaments and congresses and even the kness-ho, the old lady of the desert. This is the binding ring, so you do something useful, instead of kill a bunch of people, like old hidey-ho and his friend, ho-hum, the two English bums.

O’Neill: History. This is the written lies of faith and testament, to be displayed to you upon boards of chalk, falsely as teachers and true as lies, the work of a spy and a ledger’s accountant, the manual of God and the Psyche of the Soul. This is how one alters the record of history, to falsely correct itself to truth, the actual import of the matter, for an analog in another world, targeted by the unjust culpability of yours. This is the art of finance and media, the writing form of the Gods. To be taken in hobby, of course, unless there’s an emergency. Then, you can consider yourself, a hero’s glenn, a frog faggot, to be taken lightly unless one of us stomps you to rye ribbons.

Now, the three locking rings.

Hebrew, is a Yid, a contract killer, a professional thief.

German, is a Fag, a mobster, a contract laborer.

Gaelic, is an Owl, a poisons expert, a political assassin.

Those are the three rings of the Celtic Knot.

Iambic calculus, the predicate and center and physic of punctuation, is for a British spy.

Brazilian jiu-jitsu, due to belt buckle one size too large, is a British assassin.

Lager draught, the first choice of beer, is for a terror bomber, a mass media exposition.

Those are the three Medallin, the namesake of the city in Colombia.

Medallin, are the honored Gustavs, of Household Cambridge, British Intelligence Capital Center.

Latin is to kill a pedophile, Archbishop or below.

French is to kill an honored star, a soldier lieutenant or above.

Arabic is to kill a political deacon, a Mafia affiliate.

Those are the three Riot Faiths, the Laughing Mad.

They are the shout, alone, the cry to god, together, and the Gods Above if all three alone, the love of state, the Witches of Eastwick, our name for a candle’s bog. Caennerbogh, if you prefer, Irish, we know you’re watching. You know how, don’t you?

A Lady in the Lake, is a British cartoon. They’re only the wester’s chamber.

Published by cheater120

Consider me an expert in information munitions. I practice Zazen meditation, Yakuza Trappist form (a Yakuza, games cheat, and Trappist, a counter-agent), as a Bonafuda, a mercantile salesmen of information through philosophy, literature, fiction, and academics, distributed as munitions technique deployed for the purpose apparent to you, unless of course you have violated the ethics of my piece, in which case you will be trapped inside a theft of the piece and an action within the boundaries of the violation you have committed in Benedictine culture, the Jewish affiliate within Catholic culture. Buyer beware, and these poems, are free.

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