The Exorcist Poem, by Tristan Robert Lange, at My poetic side

We live in a world devilishly demon deep.

Its shadows are luminous—shining like a star—

Fallen rays of rapture revealed to be regressive

Remuneration. Did we think they would pay?

What was received proactively? Retroactively?

Hell, what was ever really received?

The pie sits lopsided—sliding southward sideways—

The divisions crack their way across and

Deeply, damningly downward in dividends.

Demons taste best in meringue but not lemons—

Minced meat made from the fabric of desire—

They score their claws across the fire of our hearts.

Yet, here is where the beasts can and will misfire,

Like the burned boogeyman haunting our dreams—

Nightmares expanding outward into our mind’s expanse—

Can only remain if you choose to remain with them.

Demons are demonstrably attached to desire’s dread,

Necrotic necromancers resurrecting haunted hopes—

An army of aggressive appetite—aggrandized aspirations.

They are toxic and terrible—indeed, it sucks they’re inside.

But you, friend, can be an exorcist—just the same as I—

You can conjure the four corners and invoke the Spirit—

You can launch the most fiery magic toward them

Through uttering these most simple words:

I will not wish away what is,

But I will obliterate what never was.

Say them, repeat them, remember them. Believe them.

Stick to them and trust that God will get you through,

Because no more demons will be stuck in you.

Comments +

sorenbarrett June 27th, 2025 08:08
A poem about the demonic it gives a magical mantra to expel the evil. Nicely worded and clearly imaged in vivid forms. Very nice

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.