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I guess the spring king has risen
Protruding from her wisdom
Growing fire everyday
Not to burn but grow and stay.

Willing death in these life making wombs
Raising up guilt like a coffin exhume,
All of the chaos don't dare to presume
All of the synthetic **** you assume.

I think we are one but divided by views
I see a six while you see the news
Resurrected from Styx and your fate I allude
But to the state and the stars you ******* collude.

I think we are one but divided by news
Media slant only shows you some views
Karmic imbalance yes the West it accrued
Born in a storm all the East children slewed.

Resurrect the Goddess & see the Summer King burn
Alive for to long his essence a concern
Abrahamic in nature foretells us our urns
Prospering marigold an infernal season turns.
Spring King
Alice Feb 8
The witch whirled around her golden cauldron,
Her shoes clacking on the stone floor as she
Chants in a language that's now forgotten;
Perhaps chanting to awake the ancients.
Her voice resonates in tune with the smoke,
As it rises in ever growing wisps
Like the clouds that shift to veil the moon’s face.
“Fumus! specula!” she cries as she stirs,
She’d lift the wooden spoon from the bubbling
Cauldron only to find that it’s melted.
Still, she'd flick through her potions book, searching
As her eyes would flash verdant as glow-worms.
Against the starry night sky—Constellations
In their own right against the cave’s night sky.
She’d cast madly in a fervor as bolts
Of lightning illuminate the night sky.
Knowing what’s good for them, the ravens scatter,
Their shadowy bodies blocking the moon.
Still, the witch would brew, throwing anything,
And everything into that dreaded void.
Outside, the cicadas would hum madly,
While the moon would drip silver in the brew.
Madness is found behind her vibrant eyes,
As she stoppers the potions into vials.
Lining her shelves with the odd colored vials,
She waits, hoping for someone to visit;
Waiting for someone to knock at her door.
And yet, after all this, no one will come,
So the witch sits drinking her tea, alone,
Watching as the ravens fly though the night
Preparing to brew another potion
That will never be shared.
Wonder
Waits
For you
To open yourself
Up;
To breathe
In
The aura,
The resounding
Belief
That magic
Does exist
Witchcraft is in her blood
A witch, she is... but not a witch she is...
She burns and feels my pain
Witch! Witch! Witch!
Life may be brutish with you
But I can make every tempest, a zephyr of love for you...
Serene and gentle, dear, it’s a tantalized love
As the witch in you, burns
With the essence of my spirit and fragrance
Through these petals of kisses
I will get my goddess, my love!
Not a witch, she is... but a wise woman
O' dear awake! from your world
Revoke the lord of dawn
And accept me
For good or evil, even these petals vanishes
I will be hither beside you...


©malavikavipin
Tylese Bennett Nov 2018
I watch the fire burn,
releasing calmness,
to fly through the room,
for this candle,
is worshipped too,
and I am highly grateful,
for my ability to manipulate,
the fire,
to make it lean,
to make it grow,
for I worship this power,
and hope that it will never go.
Becca Nov 2018
watch the ball of fire
slowly trickle into the rubble
as the young lady’s
smile turns upside down
her crystals lay so peacefully
upon her cauldron shelf
the book in which her spells lay
is magic like the stars
the candles are dancing with fire
around the a big book
watch the ball of fire
fly above the rubble
spitting fireworks
into smoke
and her frown into a smile
Tylese Bennett Nov 2018
It whispers into my ear,
"You shall be the one,
to be sacrificed to the devil once you're done"
For I worship him,
for I do,

So why are you,
threatening me with a noose?
For years ago,
witches were hung,
so why now are you going back?
"For the ceremony has begun"...
Coraline Hatter Nov 2018
candles light up her room
it smells like herbs
and flowers

fall is her favorite season
she enjoys the rain
while dancing trough the woods
barefooted

she's one with nature and the sun
but in love with the moon
everyone's terrified of her
Halloween considered a holiday in the United States.
The holiday means "holy day." But is nothing holy about Halloween. The root word of Halloween is hallow which means "holy, consecrated band set apart for service" if this holiday is hallowed whose service is it set apart for ? The answer to that question is very easy ---Lucifer's!

It's activities include.

• *** with demons
• ****** between animals and humans.
• Animal and human sacrifices
• Sacrifices babies to shed innocent blood.
• Castings spells conjuring of demons
The list is endless.
Find it on gateway.
Why Celebrating Halloween Is Dangerous.
Why do we chose to participate in such festivals.
No-one really knows how dark and violent it is
They all think that it is just a bit of harmless fun.
WRONG
DONT
BE*
GULLBLE
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