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sage Jun 2017
I stare at you all day, rosemary,
only at you.

Though all day, rosemary,
you never look back at me.

Not a single glance, rosemary,
i never meet your eyes.

I could imagine their colour, rosemary,
a satin soft blue.

You run your hand through your hair, rosemary,
like your fingers touch pure gold.

What does it feel like, rosemary?
to be what everyone wished they had?

I wish i had you, rosemary,
to feel okay again.

You could save me, rosemary.
if you just look back.
well, of course. rosemary is love in witchcraft
Kmo Jun 2017
It was Tuesday morning
When a single glance to your eyes
Made my face turned into maroon
I heard my blood pulsing in my veins
A burst of energy inside of me was increasing
I was compelled at that moment
Then catched myself staring
You bewitched all of me so effortlessly
And with a single snap on your fingers
You stole everything to me
Flashback to the day we met.
blushing prince Jun 2017
It’s no longer burn the witch
it’s drown the ******
purity only attainable when it’s served
as a death dessert, martyr Mary
do you understand TV dinners
made the housewife go extinct
or berserk, I think that’s how it goes
catching their heads in ovens as protest
but listening came in through the door
as a catcall, festering on ottoman chairs
smoking that new cigarette with a cautionary
tale at bedtime
the ends  being ground, like the beef
that we’re all guilty of starting between
sighs, or the coffee beans blistered
trying to come up with an excuse as to why
high heels won’t break that man’s spine,
and it won’t in that new suit he’s so possessive of
because he paid for it with the sweat of his back
as the gaggle of his fellow businessmen
scuffle over who gets to lick the perspiration
that earned him that respect, that bought
the privilege of feeling like a man that stands out
from the wolves in offices, waiting at midnight
for the froth to begin to foam and to
claw at reasons why the bed is always empty
when he’s everything everyone wants to be
and I think you begin to sympathize,
I think you begin to understand why
balancing a ballpoint pen between your
forefinger and thumb is equally as
drinking the cup half full
the modern man with his chiseled teeth
and overt way of speaking throws
up at the American Dream, standing
naked in the glory of publicity fame
there’s too much lights, the makeup
is too intense
the crown of jezebels
Belongs to the hardworking man
with the unkempt lawn, and the
natural features of a god
it’s no longer burn the witch
it’s freeze the *****
while they stand flirting
with the boondocks trapping
fireflies and weak Christians
in their hair
and will you listen to me now?
as the hordes of provoked
believers stand in crowded
bars and in your own home
******* themselves mentally
as they chew and spit
into each other’s mouth
what they’ve always wanted to hear
and the pleasure comes from
not knowing and not wanting to know
and will you touch me now?
that the fantasy is created in your own image
and will you worship me now?
that I agree with these shackles
telling me that they were always meant to be there
that ******* is next to holiness
and will you accept me now?
that the book has been rewritten
and the villain is not you nor me
but the refrigerator with the lizard
that tempted humankind and
banished them from ever entering paradise again
and will you **** me now?
that comedy is only worth in whoever
has the longest tongue
in order to understand you must first listen.
Rhea May 2017
I am a witch
I cast spells
I command magic
My craft is humble
And yet
And yet
I've been told to burn
I am peaceful
I wish no harm
I've seen too much hurt
But now
But now
I will control the ocean
I will destroy the moon
I will harness the wind
I will crush the mountains
Because
Because
They cannot respect
They do not understand
I will refuse to look down
When I am hugged by flames
zebra May 2017
i met you
o lush queen
a witch with a spell
first an innocent glare
now
im not feeling so well

your a tree
growing out of my chest
the sap falls upwards
my eyes splitting like quartz
branches spring from my ears
my mouth moss and violets
storm siren Feb 2017
Sometimes you open your eyes
And see nothing.
Sometimes you close your eyes
And it's all right there.

Sometimes my tarot cards all fold,
And my crystal ball fogs over.
Sometimes the runes don't read,
And the lines on your palms are just scars.

Sometimes the pendulum won't swing,
And the birds in the bottletree
Won't sing.

But the sky is violent red,
So maybe the sunlight
Will come again.

So lay your crystals
By the windowsill,
And light your candles
In your circle.

Wish and pray and wish and pray
But in the end
Fate is what you make it,
And no amount of darkness
Can black out my colors.
David Crum Jan 2017
Burning occult logic.
A secret sacred savored fire.
Burn so bright it'll eat you alive.
Bright like a 2 am booklight tired
eyes so hungry for knowledge they yawn like little mouths
like your mouth...yawning, man do you know what time it is?
Time to learn, and read and be and burn.
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