Black hair, black nails, black lips

You'd think fire shot from her fingertips

She never smiles, she likes to glower

She even thinks she's got the power

But you should know this Gothic gal

Is hapless as the devil's pal

She is a fake for all to see

A Rocky Horror wannabe

The only thing you must beware

Is not to love her evil stare

There beats inside this tortured tart

A hard and shrunken, blackened heart

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just poking a little fun at the Goths.  Gee, I hope they don't cast a spell on me!

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Surely nothing more pure than thee

Slumbers in Mother Night's embrace;

Surely to-night no fuller Moon

Resembles well thy sweet pale face,

Framed by locks fair and confidence

Of your faithful midnight prayer.

Yet, in a cave by jealous Moon,

Reside three Fates dressed all in white,

All of them daughters of black Night:

Clotho the Spinner loves to spin;

Lachesis draws what has been spun;

Atropos severs life's frail thread

Suspended between gloom and gloom.

Whose beck and call Fates might answer

Is often hotly contended;

But rest assured, Antonia,

While in your precious innocence

Rest may so easily obtain.

For, restless in his bestained bed,

Ambrosio twists and turns with

Lust and guilt against his poor vows.

Ambrosio, Ambrosio,

Whom conscience has torn asunder.

Lies concealed in his monkish cell;

But not from mannish Matilda,

Demonessa, urging him on,

Nor from his holy Deity,

Counseling virtuous restraint.

Hence Aye and Nay dance in tandem

Until vile incestuous rape

And foul murders are committed

And duly punished by Devil

Doing God's will as commissioned.

Then, only then shalt thou molder

As thy mother Elvira molds

Whilst Ambrosio, cast  into

The chasm of hopeless despair,

Impaled upon the hellish rocks

So far below the gaze of God,

Slowly fulfills his Agony.

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Holy Night


Kill the animal, take its heart.
Within these words we depart.
A circle within the forest,
A circle of thirteen;
All equal, none the poorest.
All together, none apart.
We are one as is our art.
Our knowledge lies within the power.
Our power lies within the knowledge.
All our tools draw power here,
The sacred dagger instills no fear.
A strike to the inner hand,
As the life flows, we give to the other land.
For on this sacred night we make our stand.
West then north then east then south.
As blood of our kindred and wine,
We take in our mouths divine.
To our essence, the spirits dine.
Knowledge is the key, the key is to believe.
As we all gather this Hallows (sowen) eve.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

An old poem in time for my favorite holiday.

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Cellar Door

You look at me in fear

Of what might be in here

I spit dust at you from every crack

You walk away, you chose

Again to leave me closed

I creak obscenities at your back

The cobwebs that form my frame

Thicken each time I win our game

But then you turn back around and give my handle a heave

You open me just a crack

Peer in the dark and shut me back

I laugh as you shudder, turn around and leave

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Gothic Hope

dark stone wall

your cracks ooze

with cold, dark blood.

doth a heart within still beat?

i gaze at your face.

behind me orchids bloom.

can you still cry? save your face?

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Simple Musings

Simple Musings

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Mother Night

Heat lightning

Too distant for thunder

Slowly but surely brings the spell that I'm under

Creeps up like the leaves lying on the forest floor

Pine branches

Their gnarled fingers seek me

But I'm safe on the ground where they'll never reach me

Lying in wait like the leaves on the forest floor

Milk raindrops

Nursing me from the skies

Mother wraps me in darkness with the stars in her eyes

Parched brown like the leaves I nurse on the forest floor  

Thunder cracks

That dawn may never break

The air, too hot, robs me of the breath I'll never take

The dew forms false tears from sleep

too deep to wake

My aching spirit leaves me lying on the forest floor

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who knew you were such a fuckup part two

When I asked you to get me a Big Mac,

With extra large fries,

And you only brought me 3 Chicken McNuggets,

I should have known.

When I asked if you had been listening,

(I can't believe you had the balls to reply:)


I should have known.

When I asked if I was the best you ever had,

And you told me about your pet sheep,

How you named her Linda,

I should have known.

When I asked you to marry me,

And you asked with delight,

"Is there gonna be cake?!?"

I should have known.

When I tried to have a serious discussion,

About the latest political movement,

And you replied,"That taco really got to me too."

I should have known.

But then one day I realized,

And I gave you a fork,

And told you to stick it in the electrical outlet,

You should have known.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem was inspired by choirgrrl Toni Walper, who by all rights, is the biggest fuck up I know.  Read her original piece, and you will see that I am much, much cooler.  Please don't think me strange for writing this's 3 in the morning and I have nothing better to do.

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