Poem: Wiretrap

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Poem: My Family

They hold nothing for me
but animosity.
I pity them.
They have the power to make me
the Angriest Person on Earth;
Simply by speaking.
I hate that.
The yearning for their love
has never stopped.
No matter how malicious
their actions.
My admiration is trumped
by fear and disgust.
They hold it all against me.
I try hard not to blame.

Someone says I chose them,
but I can't see why.

Poem: Mom #18

"You've never done anything right,
you have broken my heart.
You have chosen the way you live,
it's all your fault.
Everything is your fault.
Why can't you be like a normal person?"

My mother hadn't changed
in the year
since we had last spoken.
At first I think
it's the same woman
I have always known.
Then she says:

"We've even been talking about
what's wrong with you
recently."

She hasn't seen me in two years,
havn't spoken in one.
She knows nothing about me."

"We've been talking..."

What could she possibly
be saying about me
when she has no data
no truth.

And then it hits me;
I am obsolete.
The final humiliation.
Out-moded.
Useless.

First my stepfather
keeps me away from her.
Deletes my e-mails,
throws out my letters,
erases phone messages.

In my absence
he recreates me
in his own evil vision.
Now she longer needs to know
the truth about me.

She alrady knows.
And no matter what
actually happens to me,
no matter how much
I change;
It doesn't matter.

Because she is already
convinced
and will make up her own stories
about me.
Forever.

I am a 2-D image
a character on T.V.

How very sad
that the image
of me
she owns
is so very
ugly.

While I am so
beautiful
and she will never know.
Never be proud of me.
Never accept me.
And mostly
never forgive me.

For all she imagines
I do wrong.

Thoughts: The Study of Magick

I do not recommend the study of Magick to anyone. Forget about it. Find some nice young normal man to Marry, have children, honor the moon and the seasons, and forget about the rest.

Just as my first teachers tried to get me _Not_ to study it. It is neither easy, nor friendly, nor all that rewarding (in my opinion). Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, but we often don't know what those are (hence divination), and the results can be pretty fucked up. In addition I have yet to meet the Witch, Sorceror, etc, who is able to truly use the divine power without letting their Ego get in the way (including me of course). This makes the magickal community a dangerous place to play. Why couldn't I have chosen accounting?

As Saint Peter points out, Prayer only works when you completely beleive it will work. Keeping that beleif in times of adversity is difficult and sometimes impossible. I see it as very unfair that the Universe only takes care of people who already beleive as it seems to me that the pained unbeleivers need the Love a lot more.

Poem: Initiation

The mark of Initiation is upon me.
It canot be undone.
An Orisha Priest
threw his Holy Pots
into a Lake; Gave Up.
When years had passed
he returned to his Tribe
asking again
for Initiation.

The High-Priests conferred
They all agreed:
Initiation cannot be undone.
Once done,
you are changed.
That is real.
That is permenant.

I am initiated.

Whether I choose to acknowledge it
or not.

This fact is confusing
I don't know what it means.

But I feel the spirits of Earth.
They know me
as I am.

Things are never
what they appear.

Poem: Dizzy

The fainting spells
are getting worse.
I stand, then fall,
it's like a curse.
The stary skies,
I see at first,
change places with the ground-
reverse
and after
falling's wounds I nurse.
To stand again,
still dizzy.

Poem: City of Lead

When there are no more options
and everything must be done
alone
by me
I am tired
and I wait
for something to happen
to me
but it doesn't
I must push
for it to work
Push and Pull
Nothing happens when nothing happens.
So nothing happens.
Like a very small toy man
trying to move around
city-sized structures
of lead
alone
outmatched,
overwhelmed,
and powerless.

Time to push a button
and hope.
Time to pull a lever
and dream.
Time to press a key
and wish.
Doing what little I can
it is not enough
it is all I can do
inefectual
impotent
broken
powerless
weak
small
alone
I do what I can
When the City of Lead remains.

Poem: A Mountain of We

Cut the rot off at the root
mental fungus
planting hook-roots,
mines and traps.
Johnny Apple-Trauma
birthing set-up
after set-up
when every thought hurts
and the typing
just keeps on typing.
It's time for the end
Nothing can justify
this tree
of pain
sour milk, mildew, and grout.

It, too, once was beautiful.

Before distance
and changes
miscomunications
a snag and a tear
in the fabric of "We"
A mountain of molehills
until it is summoned.
Called by our anguish
our confusion
our agony
it takes over our puppet-selves
and our acts are as old
as a thouand years.
Now just two "Me's"
fighting
for nothing
while the Love of Union
lays unremembered
a broken clay cup
on a dusty desert road
behind months of irritation
frustration,
even Fury.

Poem: It

It's never there;
When you look for It.
Comes without being called.
Trying to force It
makes It flee.

It appears to come from:
Sex, Drugs, Music, Friends, Food, and More.
Look close
It cannot be found.

As soon as one
finds the Cause
It's no longer there.
The bait is patience.
Though It flees from
Reason or Blame.

I want It with me
through all of my days.
Though that want
may just drive It away.

Poem: And You Want

You want a cigarrette
so bad
and when you finally get one
and you are smoking
but you don't really enjoy it
because you want some water
and you get the water
and while you are drinking it
you arn't really there
and you wish you were listening
to a really good song
in the park
so you walk to the park
wanting to get there
so bad
and you sit in the park
and you search on the radio
for the perfect song
and the park is nice
but you want another cigarette
so you smoke one there
and you
finally
find the right song
on the radio
in the park
and it is so perfect
you can't believe it
but then is passes
because while the song is playing
you are too busy
thinking about what you Want.

Poem: Love Spell

Love come to me!
Fill up my heart,
with memories dear.
Make me to know
I'm good to be near.

Come and redeem me
form all of my fear!
Love come within me!
Love, you've been good to me.
Love, you've been fine.
Love, you remind me
of all of our times.
Love, never leave me.
Love, stay by my side.

To be happy forever
no need
to ask
"Why?"

Poem: Painful Letters

Why'd you have to send that letter?
To make me think of you.
I was doing just fine
not thinking about you.
Me;
with my fantasies
of your love.
You;
with your
repeated, vehemous, and
startleingly painful denial
of any feelings for me
at all.

But you wrote to me.
You were still thinking about me.

Your words speak meanness,
but your actions give you away...

She wrote to remind me
how much she doesn't care
about me.

That doesn't make sense.

I hope she'll forgive me
for loving her.

Poem: A Well Balanced Life

How?
Too much is too much.
Not enough is not enough.
What is right for one
is wrong for another.
How do I know
what's right for me?
Everyone wasnt to tell me
their way
is the right way.
I just do not know.
I could use good advice.

Before I would have divined,
thrown some tarot cards,
flipped a coin,
asked a ghost.

Now I don't trust anyone
or anything
to give me
the Guidance
I need.