Ouija

A voice from the shadows fills the air

It freights the heart and puts rational mind to despair

Her words come blunt, truthfully and weighty

Heed the sapience even when is naughty

Graphics and symbols engraved

On paths shady enlightened

By magic of the fallen paved

With gates and keepers darkened

A band of spirits the deed enact

So the mortals can contact

The undead and the departed

The unknown….and the retarded

God and Satan are debating

If it’s the echo of a forgery

But we find them guns calibrating

When the naked truth reveals its mystery

Science and religion are antiques

When developing new techniques

Thru mists and witchcraft you are reborn

By the gracious god’s quill and his sinning thorn

Fathom everything with grace

While you seek the god

No mask can hide your taint

But for getting his embrace

Enthrall the perky muse on the forsaken rod

To rotten the new aphrodisiac saint

There is the foulest of decisions

When waste becomes from diamonds and gold

The corpse of the quill carries obsessions

Everyone will greedy taste

Panting hard and deep losing their chaste

As you, with last breath, to him thy soul you’ve sold

Your body is a vestige of a primal

Hymn of tears, death, and blood

Into a ravishing juice melting grotesque

Of delirious ambrosia and acidic nectar

When is caressed and bitten feral

Bones are cleaned to the thrill an exotic mood

Offered on the boiled altar

Horny-skinned token of unholy picturesque

Note 1: Written on 22 September 2014 for the upcoming "Epitaph of the Decayed Quill" project, dedicated to Sylvia Plath.

Note 2: The poem is the winner, by community choice, in the prompt competition "Game" of The Reverie Journal

You can find the poem published in The Reverie Journal's e-page following the link:
 http://thereveriejournal.com/2016/01/10/ouija-by-vlad-teodor-pectu/