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 Coffins behind rows of pews with                                                                                                 Open caskets reveal a hidden                                                                                         

Chorus of corpses singing with
 Their arms raised High in the air…
Such Shouting, Praising,
Falling Out, Dancing, Prophesying
While a departed Preacher calls
For the Spirit of the living God to
Enter into the place, but Instead,                                                                                                    Enters a cold, bitter breeze wrapped in a                                                                                   Thick toxic cloud filled with the stench of
Death-Religiosity and Hypocrisy

This repulsive, repugnant odor
Slaps me in the face as I
Am forced to embrace my inevitable slavery!

In the House of the Dead,
The pulpit is decorated with
The withered white ivories of lies…
There are whips and chains
Made from torn pages of the Bible.

~Composed by Dante’s Lady, Sali