Poetry

This is the general category of fuckery that goes on and on and doesn’t seem interested in stopping.

  • They’re superimposing the Christian and Judaic god onto Lucifer

    A jealous god

    Who wants us only to look at him

    What fucking ludicrous bullshit

    Read what happened

    The jealous and selfish god had his angelics look only upon him

    He punished any and all who didn’t listen

    When one of his top generals cast his eyes to the mortals he so despised

    He cast the angel to the fires of hell

    You’re telling me the angel who dared disobey his father

    The Prometheus of the Christian and Judaic texts

    Who was punished for eternity for daring look upon someone other than he

    I find it ironic

    They paint the

    True witches

    In this demonic light

    When everywhere they explain the behaviour

    Of the Christian Judaic Islamic god

    And super impose it

    Upon an angel

    Who wanted us to be free

    Of his incessant

    Jealous

    Controlling

    Terrible

    Bullshit.

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  • The fever is back it chews at my sleep

    I wake in a daze drenched

    I don’t know what causes it it comes and goes but

    I don’t know why it comes anymore

    I thought I had an answer

    I feel so cold

    But it can’t possibly be what I tried to hold

    The reasoning behind it

    Who knows

    But that’s as far as I’m going to go because I can’t escape it

    It’s just part of my life

    Another reason

    I have to be alone at night.

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  • You always know the answer to their tricks and turns

    You see their lies and unravel their doctrines

    I hate doctrines

    You whisper flitting about like a frustrated bat

    A kiss to the cheek

    The best thing about you, I say, is that I can lie to you.

    And you don’t care

    He’s chuckling

    Coming close and leaning in

    Of course

    I don’t do

    That hypocritical bullshit

    It’s so sad all the witches get painted like satanists

    Saturn

    He mutters to himself

    When the depths of the magic come from a time older hundreds of years older thousands of years older

    Than the false god and Christ himself.

    Can’t we all get along?

    A whisper

    Yes

    If we cut out the sickness

    The cause of all this

    You catch it every time he whispers

    My ears are ringing because it’s the wrong time

    No one on top

    No one beneath

    The way I approach them on even feet

    I don’t play supplication

    Unless I have a safe word

    He laughs

    And we continue watching their silliness.

    It is outrageous.

    But they won’t notice.

    Keeping in mind

    Keeping in mind

    That Lucifer fell

    Not for hate of mortals

    He was cast to hell

    For looking away from the “one god”

    To the people

    Who He hated.

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  • The spider queen visited me in a dream

    She and her two daughters

    They were in a cage

    Her face was displayed

    They scared me,

    But by the end I was talking to them like friends they were my

    I stood at the window separating me from mother

    They said

    She can be human

    That she had been made that way but could be

    That her daughters were human in a way

    I cried wanting to be on the other side

    For some reason she was my mother too she told me

    I felt longing I’ve only felt awake for something that could never be

    I wanted her to have human arms to hold me

    She

    Her children

    I’ve never been visited by Aztecs.

    But I knew they were coming.

    They’ve been calling me for weeks.

    I’m not sacrificing the nobility to her

    But

    In her mind

    They should be sacrificing to her

    The privilege

    Of being on top

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  • I wish he could hear me

    I wish he could see me

    I wish I knew that I love him

    I wish he could know that no matter what she says I love him

    I wish he could know that I’ll be beside him regardless forever

    I wish he could understand that my love for him doesn’t make me possessive, because I know I’m not his.

    I just want him to know he’s loved.

    I just wish he knew how much I love him.

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  • Telling the story exposes the wound

    Held out for the reaction

    Salt or a bandaid

    The unlikelihood of sutures

    Sometimes you tell the story

    And the wound is exposed

    And silence follows

    And there it sits open to air and dust

    Festering

    Infected

    And the roses are blooming in fall and you give him a look and he say

    I fucking told you roses and I will make them

    I’m not sure that’s healthy

    But it made me smile

    Sometimes

    They have to interfere because no one is willing to help me here

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