Black Priest Mourning in Black Mass

Updated on July 23, 2017

The complete: Black Priest Mourning in Black Mass


notes that flutter a subtle moth,
from the recesses of my soul,
waves ne're so profound,
as the illustrative magic,
that posessess me in times when,
light has brought a dweller to seek,
entrance by archway into my weary being.

chorus of voices that rise to a crescendo,
for what beastly man should kneel,
before such majesty?
it is I who licks the floor of the tenements,
of my evils,
who so desperately washes myself,
to cleanse temporal illusions,
and move me to a higher place of thought,
forever seeking the light to claim me,
from the true enemy,

and this ever so high note that calms,
my beast within,
perchance it should stay longer,
if I could hold onto it,
with grasping claws,
between a tear and hardened heart,
HEAR ME! make me a softer man,
one who even though has seen the evils,
of man perpetrate in varying degrees,
reflexive in my fibrous denouement,
as the reel moves onward,
there will be no editing on the cutting floor!,
the weary traveller, presses on.....

Kyrie eleison

Vitriol bottled distributed worldwide,
Off the assembly line,
Drink of its wrath,
For no tender mercies desired,
I’ll have a double cup,
Repetition of ritual,
Turn the death card like a trick,
While incense rising upwards,
Irritates the nostrils,
Off key a soliloquy,
To make the audience roar,
With “what the fuck just happened”,
Save the rain old man,
Make no bones of a traveller,
Who relishes swimming in mud,
eating pearls with a hearty oink.

Dies irae

smoke bedevilling, wistful imagined,
playbook jotted hail mary tactic,
seer of seers,
peer into the oracle,
what pray-tell shall this lighting strike?
tremble we will, oh merciful,
For where is the quaint sarcophagus,
Should we bear witness,
vomiting out the son?
let us see,
the lion roar judgement.

Tuba mirum

Reverb a sky flatulence,
Startled crow pecks the glass,
Of a melted watch in the desert:

In nomine Patris
et Filii,
et Spiritus Sancti


et Spiritus Sancti,
et Filii,
In nomine Patris

Mere plaything,
For the necromancer of the dark,
To trumpet the animation of the bones of the dead,
Diseased lambs mawkish waiting,
Shorn, cold and bleating,
All rise! The librum echo,
Jots and tittles,
Recorded our hall monitor,
All seeing eye,
Light in the darkness,
Blood eating the blood

….when the thunder echoes upon me,
The advocate sipping drinks beachside,
As I watch bleating cries,
Fall into the pit.

Rex tremendae

King of cups to pour this wine,
Affectionately oh caring father,
One who sees, one with the scales,
Like the ones in my eyes,
For the game is riddled with faults,
Eternal love, eternal lie,
Wellsprings of ash,
Let it be known,
As the dust ejects upwards
Let Mary cry tears of blood…

Queen of the mausoleum

It all starts with an image,
Set up in a fashion,
To have you strain for the unreachable apples,
And waters that recede,
Believe me if you cut her belly,
And see the tomb inside,
Outwardly umbilicals of entrails,
Wrap around the necks of followers,
Who offer bespoke gifts of verse,
To blanket this idol,
With a shroud of beetles,
That love the flesh of worshippers.


By the fire, be made stronger,
Designer of confusion,
Get thee hence,
For now your word upon me,
Shall be the planchet,
Over my embittered heart,
Yes, no, maybe


Weep indeed,
For the sea will take all,
And trenches of the deep be made,
To hold all my hopes,
For it is I who is in deep despair,
It is I who cannot go further,
Elected the black priest of my own heart,
My mourning is my black mass.

The End

Michael Valdez 21-23 July 2017


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    • MichaelValdez profile image

      Michael Valdez 8 months ago from bedminster, bristol

      Wonderful comment, The east, I will admit my knowledge of the east is sorely lacking. It could be my next jump. Thank you so much for your comment, with writing I hope to evolve to writing something worthwhile, I will always feel I am lacking maybe that is what drives me to prove I can go beyond my little box in life and look outward.

    • manatita44 profile image

      manatita44 8 months ago from london

      Your writing is deep, lofty... no wonder you like my stuff. You have a gift for powerful and visual content; a spiritual treat.

      Mine's lighter, though. The ethereal, esoteric of the West carves a pen as beautiful as the mystic of the East, only that in the East we are lighter, sweeter ... yet yours suit the theme.

      Kunti was so devoted to Krishna! She wanted suffering so that she would always remember Him. One might say that she feared God and had tremendous reverence; awe. This is one way. The God-lover has a different relationship in his longing--always reaching out with mostly beauty and Light. He/ she makes God the Attorney. This is another way.

      I would love to read more of your work. I came here because of making you a promise, but I'm taking a break from HP. Still, you write with much genius and immense creativity. Continue ... continue. The Latin is cool. Amitabha! Om Shanti!