Witch Myth

As I lit my own way
through the darkness,
the forest closing in,
trees speaking in tongues,
ancient tantric vowls,
whispers of vengeance
and loving passion,
so deep,
swept like wind
through the rain,
claiming her in the twilight,
legs apart,
cumming into
the sunrise,
lift her up,
and into that forgotten
space of shadows and spice.

But then
in a quick moment,
that went unnoticed by most,
there was a reality shift,
a quick change
in the dressing room of
my favorite transvestite.
Flashes and liquor
and smoking ashes,
mirrors sparkled
back and talked to us
of the future and
prophesized in the form of erotica.

Damn you,
I can clearly see your broken soul,
left to wander round and waltz
back and forth in your bones,
aching and sorrowful.
I just wanted to
warm your dark nights
with the blues
and tales of cathedral lightning,
soft caresses,
tenderness and
sleep walking,
fucking in the morning,
cold breezes through the window,
tears of joy.

Your absurdity
astounds me,
witch mything me to hell and
early graves.
no offense but
fuck you.
Drink your poison,
and I shall drink mine deary,
you weary and wrenching
in your small mind,
closed and only fading in the light,
then sweet and sour,
bitter tones to
pulsing ethers,
rising up into
the celestial sphere,
and laying my head
down to sleep,
rattlesnake requiems
lull me on
to the eternal illumination.
I shall be a phoenix soon
to burn and fuck and burst and die,
and then with heaving and great shaking
am reborn.

Tantric Vibrations

In the night,
I dreamt our reality awake,
square and rectangle bedrooms
filled with naked bodies,
men and women,
telling half-truths mixed
with cum and sweat
and lingering lies,
dark staircases in the void,
winding downward
to nighttime visions
of fucking in doorway frames,
muses and seraphim,
cunt and dripping,
asses slapping against hard cocks,
oral sex in showers,
weeping and craving,
dancing and fringing on
astral minds,
chaos and light,
fire burning embers,
teasing and quivering
through the tasty twilight,
ghosts and their peripheries,
erotic choreography that you like to watch,
me swaying to the rhythm of the witching gods,
magic told through the body,
urging on prophecies and tantric sex
with supple jazz and vibrations
and telepathy voices
in the early mornings.

I woke up and heard you
and died,
wanting that cold wind
on my hot face,
driving slow and then fast,
down winding roads,
over mountains,
in valleys with stars
describing us,
entwining you and I,
making us drench in classic art and reverie.
Born again,
we unite in smoke and illusion.


The weather was lonely
along with the Jack of hearts,
who landed in my periphery
and of course with the
stolen Queen’s tarts and affections,
funny- oh irony,
stargazers stuck with
grey skied nights and
demon eyes,
silly dragon tongued boy,
breathing fire and
sex scented bedrooms
lit up the dark,
laughing and fucking and bending,
in and out of breath.

You and I
came together in
strange times of the Spider and
the cypher prophets,
floated along in the morning
and becoming ghosts
in the nighttime.
It’s gypsy witching
season friends,
I crave to hear your howls
and stomps on the earth,
changing the world
creating magic and sex and
brilliant sensual gospels.
I want to hear your wildness.
I dare you to be bold.

Affection drenched
in sarcasm,
we can fuck to the
rhythms of those sultry saints,
rock back and forth,
side to side,
in and out,
pulsing cum and revolution,
art designed
in thunderstorms and catacombs,
I’ll kiss you
soft and rough,
moaning out my religion
on your skin and bones.

Let me in,
I’ll undress your energy,
melt your breath into mine,
haunt and whisper,
taunt and tease,
dripping lace and lust,
spices and sensations linger,
as I dive into you,
and we are overcome.  

Dark Matter

And the reaper
came a-reapin,
left me weepeing,
in the morning,
you teething on my bones,
distraction was complete,
wink your eyes
and howl to the gods
of carnivale
as your hands remove me
from spacetime.

Try to erase me,
I dare you with fangs glistening,
hold on,
take it off,
leaving the body,
bending and twisting
into those
illuminated collective ethers,
to waltz round at will
in your energy,
among others,
some dull and wrinkled,
others pulsing and throbbing,
brilliant metaphors pursuing  their
counterparts in the land
of dreams and tarot cards.
The Hierophant coughs and sees,
the Star listens intently,
the Devil laughs,
and the Universe nods
her head to the new rhythms
a-comin in
through the cracks in now drenched Manhattan,
your cries ring loud,
I hear you.

Druid priestesses
in robes of red
danced the walk of the dead,
witches burning
in sad Salem,
all detailed in visions
leaving me to stare out
the open window,
I lost my real in the Imaginary
and didn’t matter
to mind.

The leaves fell and
I thought of father’s death,
nightmare eyes looking
through slanted blinds,
nature talking back
to us in our sleep,
men licking their lips,
friends turning to fucking,
then ending just in a whisper,