Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2013
I love seeing the looks
on the faces of the shopkeepers
in the occult store down the block
sudden surprise
or annoyance
immediately morphing into pleasant
plaster
shop-keep smiles
I don't look like I belong there
they think I'm a tourist
come to gawk at them
or that I'm gift shopping for a
hippie-witch friend
or relative
They have no idea
until I decide to
open my mouth
and tell them what I need
why I'm there
and they hear me use the words
suddenly realize I'm serious
I know what I'm talking about
I know what I'm doing
and they take a step back
and look me up and down
as if to say
Really?
You??


I used to look the obvious occultist
when I was younger
and still learning
passing me on the street
one would've not been at all surprised to learn
that I was a black magickian
Hell
one might've even assumed that
to begin with
just by my outfit
But that was a long time ago
Now to all outward appearance
I could be any other computer nerd
But I'm still a cultist
though a different colour now
I learned the value of
not broadcasting myself
my every intimate personality trait
to anyone who happens to pass me on the street
I learned to pass
as a Normal
as a Mundane
(please don't make me say
"Muggle")
and now no one notices me
I can go about my daily business
and my sorcerous shenanigans
without attracting unwanted attention
without arousing any suspicions
of satanic blood pacts
or ****** sacrifices made
to blind idiot gods
which makes everything so much more
pleasant

But sometimes I forget
that the Me people see
isn't really me
until I see the shopkeeper's face
down at The Magick Box
at Bell, Book, and Candle
at Foxcraft's
at The Crystal Cauldron
or whatever it calls itself today
in this particular town
I'm there to buy a component
some specific mineral
or herb
or root
or ritual tool
or color of candle
required for some particular spell
or sigilization
or pathworking
or ceremony
or casting
Magick is now modern
and so when I need the dried petals
of a rare and deadly Black Lotus blossom
to throw a curse on the drug-dealing ****
who moved in across the street
and keeps threatening my neighbors
for the crime of daring to look
in his direction
I don't need to form an expedition to Tibet
to climb the peak of
the only mountain where it grows
no, I'm an American
other people do the hard work
so I can simply pull out a credit card
and laugh silently to myself
at the look on the shopkeeper's face
that says
What on Earth
does he
want with *that??
Meh - too long, too boring, no focus.  Oh, well; it's what I had to give today.
Michael Valentine
Written by
Michael Valentine  Maryland
(Maryland)   
  5.2k
   ---, Abbie Argo and GoddessofSecrets
Please log in to view and add comments on poems