Benedictine Convulsions

An ominous disembowelment...

The soothslayer is blinded, such is fate;

Abomination to damn the eyes...

For the righteous, a test of faith.

"We thank thee lord, for this tribulation,

We sing thy praises without end;

No matter how rabid the oppressor,

We shall not fail thee, though we pray for

Strength."

Ensnared in the web of the unjesus,

The once-sacrosanct abbey is

Besieged,

With the braying of the

Nightgoat,

Benedictine friars convulse.

Infernal visions flay their souls

As their bodies contort and writhe...

Capricornus nocturnum haunts them,

From their torment springs its delight.

Impaled on one of its many legs,

A bug-eyed Mary gapes on in horror

As her only son is chewed to bits

By spiderchrist... She is flecked with gore.

Caprine morturion leads the bones

Of their departed brethren

In the abbey's catacombs;

When gargoyles vomit blood,

The defunct will ascend

To rend the mortal flesh

Of the brothers of the good word,

And make victims of their guts.

Those who are left,

Of god bereft

Run amongst heads

Suspended by threads.

Crosses up-ended

And frenzied blooshed

For those who sought favour

From their saviour.

"I am messiah"

The grand delusion

To hell-wracked things,

Revelation.