The Valley Where Jehoshaphat Sat

Upon tabernacle sat
Seven gold trumpets to boast
In their midst, a lamb most subtle
Wolves in sheeps clothing to teach
Shouts heard upon firmaments
And the upheaval of another man’s sun
Seven days for the trumpets
Allotted neatly upon aether
Where waived angels in waiting
By the wayside of another’s manger
Past the beast of fields
Wherein lays the grotesque
Abominations and desolations
Trampling the fruit of trumpets
And while the moon bled out
By shadow of sun
Calls could be heard in waking
To Hellmouth, the runners did run
Three faces turned 
And the masses groaned 
The fires, they reaped their sow
The widows, they wept their moan
And as unholy sounded the firmament
Drew ever near the temple’s wreath
By which was found and made known
All that inhabits the kingdom of lice 
All who dwell the shadow past death
In the palm of poets left to wander 
So hear it! 
Never was there ever a court
So brimming with satisfaction
Beneath Dante’s lament
Where herd together gallows in Abaddon