Eat the womb of your daughters,
And drink the blood of your sons,
Drag your spouse into the woods,
And whip them with thorns;

Prepare the cauldron,
And play the requiem,
Be drunk thirsty fellows,
Gladly fill your cisterns,

We shall fill the streets tonight,
As the righteous falls,
Creep into their childrens bunks,
And wait for the master's call;

"Waaaaake uuuup, waaaaake uuuup",
Quietly we will whisper,
And afflict them with sorrow,
And sink them in despair",

Do not cry dear parents,
When your children go astray,
It is us who have done it,
Yes, we desire it this way,

We run the final lap,
So rejoice children of the sun,
It will be over soon,
Then will our battle be won.

Abide by the letters of jupitar,
Do not trespass,
Read out with boldness,
Happy Ex- Mass

A Monday morning in Richmond
     is like waking up with your head
   shaking with commotion.

You pray while you take a dump.
       You end up going across the street to Starbucks,
    with three-sixty left on your credit card.

For some reason unbeknownst to you,
you feel that you're a Renaissance artist,
brought to earth to perform studies on human beings.

Little by little you realize that you're the son of God.
There's a moldy tennis ball in
your pocket labeled: God.

Rap, or is it, Rock music that pumps through your ears?
And you're not afraid anymore.
You start to notice the handwritten facade built around your surroundings.

The State Farm billboards
perched above the scaffolding.
Your nose drizzles with crimson.

Memories of the Christopher Walken Impersonator stains the keyboard.
There is no real difference between the garbage man
and your best friend, the one who supplies you with mescaline.

And the comedown feels like a Indian Monsoon.
Electrocute your senses
until you've turned numb to your baby sister Victoria.

The Toyota Avalon cruising up
the street corner with the yellow high beams
is not the white witch from The Wizard of Oz.

Trip falls.
Inhale smoke.
Speculate more.

Dirigibles in the clear, blue sky plummet down.
You listen to your parents while you're high on *****,
wondering why mom dukes looks like Johnny Depp.

Fingers tremble as you try to type out
a handwritten letter from prison.
You meant to text message your mom, "Happy Mother's Day."

And instead
you typed out to her,
"Happy Birthday Mother!"

Lows and highs permeate through your heart.
Caving in, the walls crush into each other.
That girl was married and you gave her a head start on life.

You stole your best friend's birthday money to buy M. You tell yourself everything
is going to be okay as you swivel in your leather recliner,
A ****** dollar bill jammed up your left nostril.

Long, blue rails dotting the wrinkled notebook paper,
used up from the last owner. You
can't stop coughing.

You throw up on your clothes.
And you start to think that
maybe you are ******* up and you can't stop without an intervention.

Then
you start to think,
maybe this is all in my head.

The cold wind nips at your exposed ankles.
Red sores develop on the back of your elbows.
Local pariah is far away from his hometown.

Your favorite Uncle has stage 4 lung cancer,
and you're chain smoking menthols
to ease the edge that splits your brain in half each morning.

What is struggle without the lost—
without the success on the other side of sanity?
You pop prescriptions to ward off the insects gnawing away at your eyeballs.

Gouge your intestines with a straight edged blade bought
from the dollar store.
Ode to Keroauc.

The unholy manuscript written with pen and needle.
Cool story bro.
But you have nothing, but mistakes to offer to this unjust world.

And earth continues to spin on an uneven axis.
When it comes to a point where fiction and nonfiction
        are void of speculation.

           When it comes to the point where reality and dreams coincide
and you begin to stumble
over your shoelaces that are tied.

When it comes to a point where
               your enemies and friends seem the same that is the point
when you attempt to sleep.

But sleep will always allude you, you Danny Art
          So read your poetry aloud to the unsung.
To the sleepless.

The Walkers dressed in rags approach you,
smoking on black and milds, dark rings
circling their eyelids.  

And the time of night which you so longingly search for
in the face of listening to The Dark Knight soundtrack, gives you a pulse, a sudden click that boosts you into peril.

That bloodstain drenching
the corner of your eye sweats profusely. And that's when you start to wonder:
is everything that I'm doing baked in fallacy and witchcraft?

The comedown.
The comedown.
The comedown.

You are the burden of my fellow constituents, lost in reverie,
gone in madness, forlorn from deeds,
that are too great to imagine.

Your tears mean nothing
in comparison
to the world at large.

And that's okay.
And that's okay.
And that's okay.


You begin to discover,
that you do not write poetry,
but you write greeting cards in a journal.

Or a pen and pad,
ink
and blood.

I know them very well,
They hypnotize you with their powers of seduction
The line between real and fantasy
starts to blur…starts to blur.

Dreams and nightmares
warm,very shinny and clouds with rain
The line between the real and fantasy
is all an illusion of his game.

Water is unclear
don't know if its pure
or if its poison
drink it careful
might be no cure

Dreams and nightmares
you'd better wake up
The line between real and fantasy
just turn the lights on
and keep your mouth shut.

Deep breath
a quite suffocating might be
count down cutting oxygen.
The line between the real and fantasy
3,2,1.. what if its not the end

Welcome to the hills of the enchantress' castle
Where the speirs stab the sky
All your worst fears come true...
She'll stay ensnared there until eternity breaks it's everlasting chain
She'll whisper to you on the wind,
And say her final curse
Slicing through your reality, binding your destiny,
You will become her puppet
Her slim fingers dancing and plucking on your hearts strings,
Your whole being at her mercy

She is in control
And there's nothing you can do
But to pray you entertain her and she'll let you live, atleast a while longer

Prophecies of the Ancient’s decree,
Dark Pariah shall face the dragon,
In the Universal arena, heart’s quail,
Worlds tremble as giant forces clash.

Cloying Darkness is stirring, awakening,
Shadows shifting within Darker shadows,
Snake-like tendrils slithering, pulsing,
A menace daring to reveal true purpose.

Brandishers of Light must stand and fight,
Resisting all temptation of offered power,
Battling against foul corruption: death,
Halting the slide into dank, filthy, pits.

Monsters stalking the innocent; feeding,
Drenched in blood of pain and suffering,
Spawn of Dreadnoughts bring carnage,
Will any stand against the slaughter?

The fabled sword twisted in torment,
Calling, calling; seeking a champion,
Searching out those who would dare,
Questing for the brave of the Light.

Light heeds the need, offers strength,
Dragon heart’s beat, Champions arise,
Drums of war, thunderous, deafening,
As the Clysm screams to be birthed.

©Paul M Chafer 2014

Sometimes I look at my sister, Alex
And can't help but worry that someday
She'll lose her true love in the same way that i lost you.
I got you back just to lose you again
And i mean, i know that they say if you love someone you have to let them go, but where do i go, where can i go without hearing your name and seeing your face everywhere? .. It's you in all the coffee shops, it's you in the subway shop, it's you on all the trains that lead nowhere and it's you i hear telling me that i'll move on, i'll get there. But the truth is, i don't think i can.. You are the most beautiful and most amazing girl I've had the privilege to love, and you're the most beautiful and amazing thing I've had to lose. I didn't know you for 300 years, actually, i knew you for just the one year but what we had felt like it could've lasted an entire life time. I'm writing this letter in hope that it reaches you in another life some way or another because i..  i need you, i miss you.. i love you
..But i can't have you can i?

....Well, there's nothing 'magical' about heartbreak is there?.. Not even for a wizard.