Elizabeth Tudor

Elizabeth Tudor Poems

The Macabre Cult
(of Human Sacrifice)

In a members only ritual,
...

One night of a nearly forgotten life,
we sat together in the moonlit garden
near a vase of irises and crocuses,
wove anemones into each other's hair
...

The Best Poem Of Elizabeth Tudor

The Macabre Cult (Of Human Sacrifice)

The Macabre Cult
(of Human Sacrifice)

In a members only ritual,
they drank the blood
and ate the flesh
of a man they'd never met,
to appease a fictional deity
whom they perceived as angry.

They made small effigies,
depicting this man's death,
and they hung them in their homes
and they wore them around their necks.
And they made life-sized models
of this man's tragic murder,
and they placed them in full view
in the lodges where they worshiped.

And the members of the cult
lived the way they wanted,
because they could confess
to a single man who dressed
in robes and never had to labor.
And he would wash them
in the blood of the good man,
the one they sacrificed.

So the members of cult
confessed their secrets
to these men in pricey clothes,
men with secrets of their own.
And the children suffered
and were taught to fear God.
And secrets were kept.
And a tray was passed
around the lodges to collect
money in God's name.
And the money was spent
on wine and parties, mostly
and to pay for the men in robes
to live quite comfortably.

And the real God saw it all.
She sighed and wondered,
'When will they learn?
When will they realize
to get into Heaven,
they have to live right?
They just have to be good.
They just have to be nice.'

And the man they sacrificed
didn't want to remember,
didn't want to be reminded of
the way that he was tortured,
the way that he was murdered.
But the members of the cult
called upon him daily and
asked him to suffer for them
and reminded him, over and over,
of his harrowing ordeal.

He heard their constant pleas,
their asking day by day,
and though he didn't want their sins,
he helped them anyway.
He gave them comfort.
He gave them strength,
but he would not take the blame
for the bad things they had done
and hung upon his name.

An Angel now, from Heaven
he still sees this happening.
He sees the way they use him,
expecting him to take the blame
for every little bad thing
and every big thing they do wrong.
It is for him and for the real God
I write this macabre song.

What kind of being,
what sort of deity
would punish the most innocent
to set the guilty free?

What kind of being,
what kind of wicked man
would make his good child suffer
for the will of evil men?

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