Nameless, black

Void and choice-less

Surrendered to night,

Full of dark

Wanting nothing,

Now all is empty

Free to take up any chain

Any desire that one might wish for

No desire, no restriction

No thirst for servitude

There is only the vexing slumber,

Hunger for the fat of a new kill

Is somehow become as a stranger

Wandering, wanton hex

A nubile delving into psionic prisms

Load the chamber

With hollow shells of the dead

Projected visions of delirium

Angelic chasms

Frightful clamoring in the cranium

Call back the dogs

And let them sleep,

For the dawn will soon enough

Overtake their prey

That tender light, shredding matter

Rending garment and flesh

Quite succinctly

No need of drummers

To time the pulse of this tune

The rhythm of it,

A vacillating pendulum,

Lo, it is even without the ability

To stray from its precision

The striker upon the cylinder

Is the pointing, bony finger of

The hand of death herself

The hammer that clangs the bell

Is the Mother of Night, incarnate

The femurs of a thousand heros

Beating against the tanned hides

Of the children of the same

Her crooked digit,

A culminating of perpetual cycle…

Stick meets skin, head warps and

Sound emanates through eternity,

Stick meets skin, head warps and

Sound emanates through eternity,

Stick meets skin, head warps and

Sound emanates through eternity,

A beat all too well pounded into the

Collective memory,

Burned into a hive mind,

Fallen into cerebral pits of

“Never before”,

We have at last, found the true past

It is even more horrid and shameful

Than we feared

It is full of monsters,

It is full of us

© 2019 Kevin Trent Boswell, Magus


Author: Kevin Trent “Magus” Boswell

I coined the term Conjure Coaching to capture what I do, which is to utilize my tool box of skills to help people get what they need, be that tarot, astrology, Strategic Intervention life coaching, NLP, trance, spell work or the kitchen sink.

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