A profane cabal
Feasts at the fount of Power
Inverted lips speaking
Breaking silence
Nothing sacred Now
No blessed light
Or holy vows to keep
Only the arcane rites of practice
Creatures of dust
Shadowing the coming Night
Commands them as they bow to
One whose image is token
Is graven into forehead and brain
The grainy film shudders and jerks
Like blotches of ink
On fools cap spilt
Engrained shadows of 
Upside down pyramids
Fields of Inverted crosses
False love
False silver
Prophets
Profits
Numerous
Systems of
Lilting lisps slip a noose
Of
Pagan wherewithal
A profane cabal