The Cult

Witches gather at night, performing their various deals of fright.

The witches begin their ceremony
Burning down trees, they sing in harmony
The cult from above traveled below
The soil was rich, deep and hollow
Like the stakes they doused in gasoline
A bright burning match, luminescent gleam
Victims lay inert, paralyzed with fear
Black cloaks, misty shawls, and blood red tears
Cover the bodies of the witches and dears
Chanting to Satan, they breathe in slow
Feeling his power enter their bones
Their marrow is filled with burgundy spite
Their eyes colored black, an image of night
Where they gather around birch, oak, and palm
Trees of the dead, chanting Psalms
Defying Gods’ rule, obstructing his name
As they float into the air, the devils infinite reign

Reviews

[Curtis.Lenker]

This poem is chilling to the spine. Its a great work. The imagery is awesome. Keep up the great work. I love reading your work.