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n-khrennikov Sep 2018
We will go through many years
When the thread passes through the needle.
The fire of the soul will shine
in the darkness of mind,
and no one around.

With a feather
In the wind I will write forever
that we are alive, you and I.
Where the wind blows
sweet immortal whispers of your name.
n-khrennikov ©
Asiah Mangham Oct 2018
Don't mention a persons past unless you want to conjure your own ghost.
Your ghost may be someone else's past.
Which is nothing but time depraved of what you left it to be
Nylee May 2017
Stuck with the same thoughts ,
How will I conjure something new ?
Feeling nothing different ,
What should I scribble about ?
Using same pattern ,
I have done this before .
Coop Lee Oct 2014
they emerge from the wooded neighborhood ridge and fringe at dusk
into breadth of lawn
& limb.
witchy chicks
casting banter n bitchcraft.
teenage dead end dreamers tipped in black magick lip gloss
& glitter, their
genderfluid familiars &/or wayward boyfriends apparate
in the street pink cloud spinning wheel,
& hawking bile.
****** stella smile.
swallow a hex, send a snap, tongue along his neck
promising to fold bodies before sunrise.
the effervescent gasp
of post-ritual clarity.

in the house,
is a kid.
a gig.
the devil with a younger grip.
& the kid thrills on a bit of the ol’
         u l t r a v i o l e n c e.
****** videogames, ****** anime, ****** mayhem n melodic music.
he is a conduit of dark energy.
a pure blooded offering of the stone age/video age,
mind in a kind of kaleidoscopic way.
he is me.
bred on televised bucket slime ceremonials.

she checks her purse.
drugs & snacks & juul & a pretty dead bird.
a daughter of delphi watching your kid.
tending to him.
trending him.
popcorn smelling him, the texas chainsaw massacre on vhs just before bed.
palace of teeth n twigs.
just a short walk to the edge and then its bath time.

             the demon version is grisly and cruel.
             the angel version is starry-eyed and adventurous.

to conjure some
at the cliff jumping.
it was fun.
previously published in BlazeVOXMagazine
La Mer Sep 2014
From this being I conjure mysterious games
Like I can’t read your signs as I’m switching from lanes
I’m blinded, insulted, and completely confused
How could I ever let my good intentions feel used up and abused?
I’ve held out my hand, lent you my ears, even gave you a shoulder
My radiation was warm and open-hearted, but your heart kept getting colder
The closer I bring myself, the more often I am hurt
Expectations of a bond, has only brought my conscious to highly alert
Of your games you’ve been playing, and crushing my pride
For once just be selfless, just open up your eyes

— The End —