Twixt Summer’s final warming breath,
And Winter’s rise from frozen bed,
There’s a night for all the Priests of Death,
The Feast Day of the Living Dead.
Ghouls flow out from sewers,
As the day slinks into Night.
Ripped clothing holy vestments,
For their sacred rights.
Tonight’s the Devil’s Ball,
So they’ll light bonfires in the streets,
To look deep into the flames,
And see where the congregation meets.
Communion wine from paper bags,
Or Beer Blessed by a Saint.
They begin to make their Holy Ruckus,
Sacraments not for the faint.
“Trick or Treat” their trick,
Mischief is their Holy Order.
Tooth and Lip smeared with Savior’s Blood,
A  Mass of Immaculate Horror.
The Clergy gather on the dais,
The Ghouls surround the Altar.
High priests shout their ritual words,
Singing, dancing, kicking without falter.
Ghouls infused with the Spirit,
What a sight to behold!
So many crowded in this backyard Church
Where at last the Chaos may unfold.
Punching elbows in the Sacred Circle,
Beware if you are scared or weak!
Battle scars and wicked Bruises
Are there for those who seek.
Ghouls overtaken by their piety,
Tonight’s the Demon’s Feast
Chomping, biting mashing teeth,
666 the number of their Saint the Beast!
Archbishop Jack cackles at the Moon,
His Congregation worships furiously,
For this night will end too soon.
Now time for the final Ceremony.
The last and most Sacred Rite.
They must play their Closing Devotion,
The Ghouls ready for a final Fight.
That last burst of Divine Insanity!
Nothing can contain it,
The Glory of Calamity!

But then the Sun peeps over from the East,
And Ghouls scurry back to their sewer’s til next year’s Feast.

**Author’s note: Inspired by the real story of the Devil’s Ball as told by the World/Inferno Friendship Society.**

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