Ritual by Rote – a (longer) poem

Disturbance of the aether mayst spell doom

In the temple hall where breed thick and viscous

Smokes and mingled blood of a century

And more besides, priests with hassled robes,

Vestments of sordid rituals held as example.


Questions go unheard, ideally, at best, lest

The Watchers hear what a hierarchy wishes for

None to speak of, voicers of dissent stormed

Upon for beliefs, singular ideas surprisingly shared

Amongst a populace afraid to opinions voice.


In the smoky halls where dusty throngs gather,

Of silken robes and wizened faces, hidden lives

Lived inside of coverings, there arrives another,

Ruiner was their secret moniker, known by malice

Maleficent with inside eyes long darkened.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: