Turi is a nickname for the given name, Salvatore.
Turi or TURI may also refer to:
Turić (Cyrillic: Турић) is a village in the municipality of Gradačac, Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Coordinates: 44°52′48″N 18°31′12″E / 44.88000°N 18.52000°E / 44.88000; 18.52000
Turi, according to Māori tradition, was the captain of the Aotea canoe and an important ancestor for many Māori iwi, particularly in the Taranaki region.
After a conflict in which he killed the son of the chief Uenuku, Turi departed for New Zealand with many others in the Aotea Canoe. This canoe had been given to Turi by Toto, father of Turi’s wife Rongorongo. In some traditions, Turi and his party stopped at Rangitāhua, believed by some to be Raoul of the Kermadec Islands, where they encountered some of the crew from the Kurahaupō canoe. Continuing on, Turi and his followers eventually arrived and settled at Aotea Harbour on the west coast of the North Island.
After some time at Aotea Harbour, Turi settled the Pātea region where he lived with his people along Pātea river. His daughter Tāneroroa married Ruanui, the eponymous ancestor of Ngāti Ruanui.
Bastards of madness
Call out this prayer of vengeance
Speaking to enemies through these wounds of redemption
Tearing out their eyes with horror
Behold this chosen new devise
As the silence pleads this forgiveness
A senseless begging for absolution
Upon this entrance into oblivion
This fallen angel of defiance, destitute to isolation
Hold tight to liberation, in the form of reprisal
Project of this restored frame, in these pain filled alterations
This new threat of changing life restless in this completion
Powerless you crawl like pigs
Soon to be slaughtered
Suckling to a faith that you avidly hoped would save you all
These offerings will bring us our justice.
For these years of diluted lies
The answers to our freedom
The answer to the death of gods
These hands held into the sky so the dark
Winds can taste the blood of murder
As the blackest hearts obey thoughts of evil
Deathlorn rites, endure the lust for revenge
Surrender the state of embracement and release
This life from the dark interiors
Discomfort of this assisted torment is given in these regards
A scourge of awakening
Prisoned in the rites of blood
Bestowed with ancient plagues, we will forge a disease
Of rape upon your ideals
Within this lifeblood we will find the truths as blades
Slice open their necks
The answers to our freedom
The answer to the death of gods
Once reconstructed the swarm will digest
The souls of this imperfection
Sterilizing faith bringer has discharged
This assembly of this damnation
Burden me with your weak
Curse me with your sick
In blood filled walls I lie confined