"cauldrons" poems
like cellophane wraps hard candy
like ink loves to dry
like hot sauce drenches noodles
like sunrise casts shadows
like band-aids sooth cut flesh
like irons crease linens
like origami folds paper
like water floats boats
like a tempest loves a teapot
like syrup and bananas drench waffles
like spoons love soup
like cats love fish
like french fries love ketchup
like wild girls dance
like a crow loves road ****
like eyes love beauty
like a circle loves a square
like buttered buns fit a bikini
like a kissed mouth hungers for wet lips
like moths love a flame
like dogs love ********
and like ******* hug butts
like howling ******* pulse hearts
like vampires love blood and castles
like dark grapes ferment in bubbling cauldrons
like madness loves a straight jacket
like a ***** loves a ****
and music gets you dancing
like suns fall through cobalt night all smashing diamonds
that's
how i love you
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 2:53 PM UTC
Day breaks over a sleepy village
Morning absolutions completed
An excited buzz is in the air
Everyone is a buzz with cleaning
Hundreds gather wild flowers in the fertile fields
Many were in charge of raising the fires
Soon the whole town had bright blooms weaved from one end to the next
The horizon alight with smoke and power
Goddess and God rights invoked within circles round
Pulsating, rhythmic energy racing through each dancing body
Gyrating to the cosmic beat of life
Couples jump merrily together over cauldrons ablaze
High hopes rise and give way for dreams of children
Lovers round and round they twine
Maypole ribbons rainbow hued passing through hand to hand
As dusk falls the Queen is crowned
Mead flows freely through the jubilant worshippers
The moon hangs round with fullness above their heads
Lighting the way for love into the night
May 1, 2012
May 1, 2012 at 5:00 PM UTC
Shame woven into me, to escape the things I've done. In shadow it reminds me, it's a battle that can't be won.
Fingerprints along the walls, that match my very hand. It holds to gently or grips to tight, and lost is the magic sand.
Where were you all that time ago, when I needed strength the most? Now my past self haunts me, like the lingering of a ghost.
Never is there a witch when you need one, to cast a magic spell. Circles drawn and cauldrons bubbled, the day I saved myself from hell.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
before that,
we sat pinned
and winded
on steel hands
and plated masks
near the crimson
jade pools
by the killing fields
of bordeaux
we did not look
we could not look
our eyes blinded
and seared
by the charred remains
and shallow graves
the battered birch
and caliginous path
drifters and vagabonds
and kings of kings
held witness
to the pounding
and overkill
the blades
cauldrons
and burning sweet-grass
all brought forth by healers
rammers, sages
and holy front men
glance behind
(watching them sort
through the rubble
and *****
the blood flow
spilling its warmth
throughout the
festering scene
they pulled the stops out
on this one ~
those sweated woodlands
and churned meadows
now framed
by a burned
and broken cross
autumn like winds
begin to chill
(casting spells over ground cover)
night lights flicker
beyond
the fallen trees
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 3:58 PM UTC
Fantail feathers, of a hazy, 'yellow-orangish-moon'…
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Skeleton-scythes, thorny-stars, swaying in the swoon,
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Fire-pits and witches brew and cauldron’s smoking tricks?
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Little dwarves and wolves and serpents crawling; leftover people bits,
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Trumpets hailing arrival, of Pale Rider, can you hear his tune?
Fantail feathers strain the sight of harvest-yellow moon,
Skeletons, fire-pits, witches, cauldrons and Old Nix,
Animals of evil’s calling, tricker-treaters; Hallow’s Eve and ****** grit!
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Pray to Sáeta, Satá, Saturn…
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern
Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Jack-O’ Lantern*
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC
Lips are not the only playground for liars
Their eyes are holding back storms
Like cauldrons brewing lightning
With such a high voltage
To shock you so suddenly
You will forget there ever was
A word named truth
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 11:15 PM UTC
my heart only knows rage
growing, crawling like wildfire
to which my bones will collapse like lilac twigs;
then again, honey,
we do not burn down with the fire — we become it,
should we fall like witches condemned.
then again, honey,
they do not burn; the fire knows its mistress' touch
and today, we have inherited
all the anger, all the wrath, all the names of the men
she held onto for centuries in her palms.
today, she will avenge
all her sisters lynched and effaced
all her brothers starved and gunned
by the very pigs who swore to protect
and the fire will
creep, engulf, and spread,
torching their money and their abusive hands —
their lying tongues and iron fists
burning in cauldrons
they will burn us in,
and the smoke will rise to the heavens
until all that's left are ashes
from where no cruel man will rise.
and the smoke will rise to the heavens
until justice,
like a goddess,
emerges from a foam of embers.
and the smoke will slowly lift —
so will this anger.
so will this wrath.
and it's the sun itself that awakes
to the promise of a new day.
Apr 7, 2020
Apr 7, 2020 at 2:31 AM UTC
the ghost of the moon,
a sky of dark oaks,
its blacks deep cauldrons
breaking like twigs underfoot
its blacks tragic horizons
where the clouds stretch and dissolve.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 1:49 PM UTC
In the depths of the night, where shadows creep,
Lie tales of darkness, so hauntingly deep.
A moon cloaked in mist, a chilling wind's wail,
Where spirits awaken, and courage may fail.
Beneath gnarled trees, a graveyard awakes,
Where restless souls wander, their rest at stake.
With hollowed eyes and whispers of despair,
They yearn for release from their eternal snare.
Amongst the tombstones, a figure does tread,
A specter in black, with a cloak like the dead.
Her name is Lilith, the mistress of fright,
With a wicked grin, she conjures the night.
"Oh! Hear my call," she whispers in the dark,
As she weaves her spells, leaving her mark.
Bats take to the sky, their wings spread wide,
Guiding lost souls, to the other side.
In the haunted manor, spirits do dwell,
Where echoes of laughter turn into a knell.
Ghostly footsteps echo down the hall,
As the present and past collide and enthrall.
The clock strikes midnight, the hour of dread,
When the veil between worlds grows thin, it is said.
Ghosts emerge from their slumber, seeking release,
Their ethereal presence, a haunting caprice.
In the flickering candlelight, shadows dance,
As witches gather, their potions enhance.
With cauldrons bubbling and spells on their lips,
They conjure enchantments, with mystical quips.
Oh! Beware the night, when the jack-o'-lanterns glow,
And spirits arise from the depths below.
For Halloween's magic, a captivating lure,
Where darkness and mystery forever endure.
So, as the moon rises, casting an eerie glow,
Embrace the enchantment, let your fears go.
For on this haunted eve, when the spirits unite,
We celebrate Halloween, in the shadows of night.
But tread carefully, for darkness is near,
And the spirits are watching, with ghoulish cheer.
Enjoy the thrill, the ***** and the fright,
On this chilling Halloween night.
Oct 27, 2023
Oct 27, 2023 at 9:12 AM UTC
ome orth azarus, come th laz, ome for zus
echo in the winds outside the empty cave;
In the desert an insurrection
to deluge the earth from cauldrons of faith;
Tinderbox by the Dneiper, an interview stolen;
Dance of Ishtar caged, the demiurge call.
Treading on ice, our mortal lives;
Ancient wells wailing with the earth;
A vessel weathering the storm, sinking
now at Galilee.
At Golgotha, by the empty Crucifix;
it all began here in Bethlehem where we wait.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
Exceptional grins of jagged pearly whites
adorn skeletal masks
suffocating your mangled breath
as curled fingertips scrape against dirt.
Flesh, charred and soiled
hangs brilliantly from serrated bark.
Bleached bone barbed at the spine
where charcoal dragons dig infected beaks to feast.
A single mountain of shadow stands
before lacerated skies
a portal of inviting mayhem and madness
concrete pathways twist to its starving mouth.
Horned beasts hobble on disfigured limbs
dragging their sins across heated ground.
Hungry for souls dipped in blood
the scent of rot disperses like fog.
Rickety witches stir boiling cauldrons
with ossified tendrils,
saliva oozes from cracked lips
as you're watched from a distance.
No escape from the blackened sludge
as it wraps on the nape of your neck,
gurgle out pitiful screams of fright,
welcome to halloween.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 12:29 AM UTC
hearts bought and sold on whimsy
dark secrets screamed aloud
resonate in empty heart chambers
dislodging logic
as ripples shift sense to passion
sold for a song
bought for practice
eyes open, heart shut
heart open, eyes shut
bubbling cauldrons
casting spells
deeper, deeper, deeper down
darkness blinds normality
and bends reality
let go/ hold on
tighter, until hands weaken
watching shadows of self
chasing shadows of yesterday
fear or excitement
aroused or afraid
enchanting eyes in navy winter
trust a stranger and lose yourself
trust yourself and lose a connection
tied in musky fog
to the inside of another
chained to that which claimed you
for nothing more than cupidity
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
Drips and drops of lab-tested fluids
pouring lipids in curves all over the place
while pops and pangs of tiny cells
bubble and fizzle in petri disks and flasks
regurgitating out strands of fine DNA
mix and synthesis of unusual entities
bubbling cauldrons of chemical ritual
give rise to spells of mystic creation
boldly configuring new organic oddities
from lab nonsense to ancient theory
mitochondrial splits and caverns
entries into the unknown of man's babble
for the fine and final production of science's silk
that which is life
and undeniable to our being
so creation can forever stand tall and strong
in the triumphant art of recreation
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 7:17 PM UTC
.
Take this flesh,
Make me unreal,
Let voice expose,
Solidify, delusions,
Let body rule most
In this make up set,
Your beauty shine out
Like light blinding eyes,
Interrogate my soul as it
Vibrates within cell made lit
Like fire caught in cauldrons.
.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
we mortgage the unspeakable. we fit small bowls into big ones and speak on misdeeds
that rhyme with chrysanthemum without the letter ' M '.
from an upside-down star
weaving cauldrons of unguarded hope
jiggling in the gelatinous yammering
of a misguided baby god's night terrors
and you still gotta go to work in the morning.
and for sleep. what's that ?
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 3:50 AM UTC
We could have been great,
Oh you and I.
The carpenters of fate,
Carving lines in halcyon skies.
Scar tissue blue
Vapour clouding the eyes.
Bound
To the flight of hyperborean tides,
Mythical winds of the north.
Yet their chill is real
Wrapped in the cloth
Of pride and zeal.
Confide,
While calm in the shaded riverside.
Forever chasing rainbows
Over moors and mountainside.
No cauldrons of gold
Just archaic rocks and stones
Buried by the weight
Of fallen bones.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
The "Church" of Scientology
Puzzle within enigma
People finding out the TRUTH
Now there is a stigma
There are many mysteries
Riddles within obfuscation
Their own ARC Triangle
Stops communication!
Are you following my track?
Or are you bemused?
Is their "nomenclature"
Making you confused?
Hope you brought your copy
Of DIANETICS here
You TOO can be OT
(or at least a Clear)
I won't try explaining it
Too complex, I fear
I'll talk about their OT III
Watch out, we're shifting gears...
When I was in the Sea Org
They spoke of this OT III
Did not discuss what it was
It was a mystery
It was said if it's revealed
You'd lose your sanity
But now I know! It's been disclosed
It's ALIEN HISTORY!
Here are all the thetans
Happy playing games
Enter alien Lord Xenu
He's bad! He's MEAN! He's LAME!
He gathered all these thetans
And brought them here to EARTH
On a DC3... They were
bound for all they're WORTH!
He stuffed them in VOLCANOES
Their lives to interrupt
When the cauldrons were filled
The stacks would then ERUPT!
This causes spirit problems
Well. I mean, hey, DUH!
I guess its caused some problems!
I guess it *would! HEY! HUH!
Folks, if you can **laugh at this
Just kick back your head!
This is God's honest TRUTH!
Every word I've SAID!**
THIS IS WHAT THEY FEAR!
THAT FOLKS WILL UP AND TALK.
I HOPE EVENTUALLY
EVERYONE WILL WALK
To leave Miscavige ALONE...
TO BE THE LAUGHINGSTOCK!!!*
Catherine E Jarvis
SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/24/2017
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 2:04 AM UTC
Caravans carefully cross empty mesquite desert
between howls from creatures too small to produce them.
There is a slight bump and the convoy tips.
Tips, tips, tips, like snapping fingers, tipping over cauldrons filled with molten magma. They laugh a maniacal laughter as they slip through millenniums of sand, counter intuitively freezing.
Long gone Pharaohs, oil drums and abandoned spare tires.
Once was lost, but now I've found.
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
I'll cast my spell, a witch's brew, stirring black cauldrons of sweet revenge.
One drop of pain added, a tablespoon of resentment, blowing out the candles that leave their scent.
A warthog 's beard, a sliver of grudge, and the dose is potent, with lethal intentions.
Drink slowly, let me watch the last sip trickle down your throat, I've called it something natural and you never minded. I'm sexually tranformed by your GASPING FOR AIR.
Lovers beware of this cursed and scorned woman, whose hatred runs deep and wide. She patiently waits at her crooked door, with a one sided smile to lure you in.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
Up and over walls and weeds,
ever-towards the tower did we climb
wrapped about with anxiety and anger,
isolated ahead of the herd
alone, we lead,
a mob edging closer
to storm-filled skies.
A bed of rocks, debris of cans,
sky-touch achieved:
we'd been first
to reach the roof.
Lightning storm to the east,
fog to the fore
and soon, somewhere nearby,
a stereo, playing the music of my youth
framing the sound of people laughing,
people drinking
men climbing too high
but mercifully, never falling.
A green gasmask, a black bandanna,
two flashlights and two bodies, pale of skin:
we again set out apart from the mob,
lost ourselves in computer crypts,
lamp graveyards,
uniform-chair depositories,
a ghost-floor filled with superstition and cauldrons.
Varieties of folder,
both manila and hanging,
bound across your back -
you got what you came for.
So did I.
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 4:53 PM UTC
I ran through the near dead fields
Turned my face to look at the approaching sun
Saw a friend up ahead who'd taken the lead
Man, I remember how that ****** could run
He saw my eyes then glanced away
Running with hastier speed up ahead
I lurched my back, holding a minute to stay
Then pushed my corpse forward like pencil lead
Crashing gulls flicked their beaks skyward
Waves soared worriedly & quietly
I put down my pack, scanning the horizon skyward
Searching for a message that lay discretely
The God's had planned this place with no certain goal
An experiment made from the cauldrons of the unknown
A transparent figure dances with smooth dead marble
The echo of my voice becomes a fond youthful warble
Tell the cities, the farms, the outhouses, and all of nature
That the beauty that lay there is all we need
Money is nothing but a cat n' mouse in the pasture
The grinning Devil's heavy hearted plead
He reached the peak of the mountain
He sat there high & proud, taking out his fountain
Eyes meeting he stepped off, a note left, away from me forever
He was always stubborn, always so ****** clever
Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 11:38 AM UTC
Souls sold for
Antiquated crude
As bitter enemies crossed over
Frozen tundra and vast deserts to duel
Quietly does the Dark Wraith of death
Sweep across the blood soaked terrain
And the Angel of Mercy does the like
To ease our fallen soldiers' pains
America's nefarious war in Iraq has been for naught
Many young lives were
Recklessly packaged for this reckoning
Packaged, parceled, and bought
I've often wondered
If the dead would
Protest against the government's lies
If they could
So many lives extinguished on both sides
They breathe no more
Doomed to the cold cauldrons of their eternal sepulchers
By the wicked Gods of war
* Reprinted from 'Exegesis a Decade of Poetry by Mekael'
© July 14, 2009 by Mekael Shane
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 2:27 PM UTC
Picking up mysterious interference
In supersensory organs
I'm struck with the fear of reality
Magnetic forces unnoticed
Hourly exacting imperceptible influence
Burying truth deeper into the murk of sensation
Micromovements hiding me alive
I'll never know unless I try to see
Which reality I'm knowing
And which I'm living
How many beams am I,
Cast through how many particulate clouds?
How much is happening to me,
And how much occurs within
And how much is shadow
Cast by straw men
Built by ghostly men of paper
Professionally seeking to
Confirm paranoid suspicions
That gurgle up from the darkest dreams
Black Magic cauldrons of Chaos
Manipulating minds
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 3:10 PM UTC
It was written in deep magic -
in tongues that danced in shadows
of bubbling cauldrons
as green smoke filled the air -
that no witch will stand alone.
It was said that we will stand
and stand together,
down to every drop of blood,
down to every dry bone.
And stand we do,
for the night brought on by Man
is not the easiest to melt into
a new dawn.
Stand we do,
for our first lines of defence
are the very hands that we bring along.
Never bring a sharp tongue
to a witches' fight,
it is said -
for our quiet strength alone
can bring your downfall,
as long as we stand together.
And stand, we do.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
Thrice about the cauldron go
and answer me, if it be known.
Untie the words and give them form,
dissect the ingredients of murder’s charm.
A new tradition has traction gained,
a tradition of alienated masculine pain.
Where insults demand their due in blood,
in schools, stores and quiet neighborhoods.
Oct 31, 2023
Oct 31, 2023 at 3:14 PM UTC