Black Mass
An ode to sacrilege
It was a Bacchic scene of fleshy slats
Their bodies forming naked and dripping spandrels.
Moans like rapturous hymns curling from pinkish lips
There the priest held aloft the chalice of fluids sexually extracted
Both fair and fine and passed to each congregant to cleanse them of sin.
Light limning their heads and their heads bending in prayer
Their delights shucked from their hearts aflame with the passion of Christ
Colonnades of lust lulling in the heady musk of lovers in pews baptizing each other
Judgements Pargeting Rafters overhead
Where prophets glared down at the cerements of damnation
Their souls age-blackened by orginal sin and leaking the lusty balms like thuribles
Eyes bulging around taut flesh pulled back like cocks unsheathing
Passions weals blotch their forms
Desperations brought to the fore by thrusting figures bent over the floor’s crazings
Heedless of devotions scorn about the angels above
Despoiled perdition of oils and misery
Righteousness purloined in a selvedge of stains
Yet their sin will be absolved
In time when the church is divided
They will eat of the blessing and drink of his wine
And they will do it all again
Reading this was a sublime experience, these lines read like they were excavated from some dark world, and were perfumed with the most beautifully creative incense. Terrific in its fleshy ritualistic atmosphere. Reminded me of The Bacchae quite a bit
I have a feeling that this (black mass) is still going on in one form or another.