TENTH CIRCLE OF HELL.
Sincerely who am I to judge
when I harbour more than a grudge?
I can't categorically castigate
since my heart hides some shades of hate.
Though I'm with some sins, I'll cast some stones.
While I will still wait on God to always atone.
No gain saying, we all go around with guilt.
Still for other's vices, a hell we've built.
We explain why certain flaws should be excused
and argue why others should be guilty as accused.
Humans have made new heaven and hell.
I think I'm ready to make mine as well.
Nine circles of hell was Dante's creation.
Let me make the tenth without an imitation.
Playfully, I'll put my pen to the slaughter.
Readers will eat their bread and still have their butter.
The tenth hell is what I'll write about.
I'll definitely ditch Dante's style no doubt.
A hell for a huge harvest of hypocrites.
Who have made reading holy books rites.
Doing good only to the delight of the day.
Rehearsing thier religious lines after sun rays.
They've sewn a silky vestments without stains.
To the world, holiness simply runs in their veins.
They live on billboards and international television.
Making them demi gods remains our sole mission.
To the world, they wouldn't even do any wrong.
A reliquary is where they seemingly belong.
We willingly robed them in a regalia called respect.
Their deficiency, an ordinary eye will never detect.
They scream to cast aspersions on others.
Boldly berating our blemish and blunders.
Jungle justice with a knife on our jugular.
An armed robber confidently accusing a burglar.
They've created a hell for others in their minds.
To them no other person should be left behind.
In the dead of the night they dine with demons.
Extraterrestrials seem to scrutinize their sermons.
They excuse holiness and exalt evil in secret.
They do dirty things and dramatically remain discreet.
I repeat again, who am I to even judge?
I still harbour more than a single grudge.
I drove through Dante's poem in my dream.
Strings of several stanzas so supreme.
For hypocrites I had to create another hell.
Something suitable for a sinister spell.
Their sermons have slain several innocent.
In retaliation I offer my golden poetic cent.