Chimney smoke from a neighbours house seeps through an open frame.
It conjurers images of home in days of innocence, long gone.
Cowboy games and scabs on knees and ice cream as a treat.
Nightmare monsters slain with a mothers hand across a brow.
Lollipops and lemonade a perfect day complete.

flesh smirks cautiously
silent beehives squelching elk
leaps glumly, mules snarl

bluebird builds, rigid
foundlings disappear lamely
incarnations peck

raw conjurers acts
devious shady agile
rosemary boasts, stare

starflower hovers
depression gives birth snidely
harps romping mustang

If faithful souls be alike glorified
As angels, then my fathers soul doth see,
And adds this even to full felicity,
That valiantly I hells wide mouth o’erstride:
But if our minds to these souls be descried
By circumstances, and by signs that be
Apparent in us, not immediately,
How shall my mind’s white truth by them be tried?
They see idolatrous lovers weep and mourn,
And vile blasphemous conjurers to call
On Jesus name, and Pharisaical
Dissemblers feigne devotion. Then turn,
O pensive soul, to God, for he knows best
Thy true grief, for he put it in my breast.

Action turns will to reality.
When one lives to watch,
the will is snuffed out.

Conjurers of nothing breed apathy
and those with no purpose, rot.
They let themselves be consumed,
to be fuel for those with inspiration.

The wounded gazelle is eaten
and the lion is fed.
Later the lion fades as well,
but not without eating many gazelle.
Progress is purpose and purpose brings the advancement of all.

Hell is a place downtown.
Poverty lines the streets and no one takes action.
This is where inspiration goes to die
and those debilitated gazelle are swallowed whole.
Their sacrifice pushes the cogs onward
toward oblivion and the unquenchable void
of
SELF
INTEREST.

Lush black hair, now turned grey
Strong body, transformed to frai
Eyes of a hawk, lost their way
Partner and friends, passed away
Historians’ teachers’ wizards’ of today
Sorry, what did you say?

From their grans, till today
Five generations, past
Hundred year’s knowledge, vast
A lifetime of charm, cast
Why now sorry, because their last?

Sorry, we can not come this year
          the kids, do not want you here
          the Home, is very near
          you’re a burden to us, I fear
          in your back, is that my spear

These, gentle giants, of days gone past
Small in stature, with very big hart
You’re always welcomed, with cookies and ****
Stories of friends, a dog, or donkey cart
Always a tear, when you depart

They, our living history
Always a hero, in every story
Always told, so happily, even those of misery
Now, it’s all so clear to me
The person I am, without them, could never be

The best, life teachers, I ever had
Especially, in the days, when I was rad
Advice and lectures given, never bad
Even on days, when I made them mad
Now, I reflect on the days I made them sad

These conjurers, of healing spell
Mystics, who future events foretell
Magician, which disappeared terrible
Wizards of good, so humble
They ensured, I do this without fumble

The starless night was lit by a blood red moon.
Tendrils of fog invade the air in pursuit
Of the living dead who walk among us.
Door by door it creeps.
From every crevice it seeps.
Hungry for souls drenched in evil
Conjurers of suffering and upheaval.
The hour has come for retribution --
Iniquity will face its execution.
Gravestones tremble at the passing of the fog,
Awakening the dead from their slumber, years long.
Skeletal hands tear up the earth,
Groping for those who revel in hurt.  
Wolves howl in unison as the army of death
Marches forth to gather the wicked in bed.
Help us! Scream the vile vermin
While being dragged across the coals,  
We plead forgiveness for our sin,
Have mercy on our souls.
Deaf to their cries, the dead carry on
To bury the evil so that it may forever be gone.
The dead return to their graves at morning’s call
To sleep with the wicked once and for all.

We, the conjurers

The USA wants Venezuela
And the worlds' press follow suit
demanding an undemocratic coup.
We have been here before
we remember the vilifying of Iraq
and Libya those two counties were lied about
before being invaded and occupied.
Our compliance with this crime is staggering
and do nothing for peace in the world.

MOTECUHZOMA
            Our priests have proven green and tenderfoot
            By goggling at our late, ill auguries:
            Dumbfounded, counselless, they scan their toes.
            For this have I agreed to pawn my pride
            In dabbling with questionable cures
            By calling forth the aid of sorcerers.

PRIEST OF TLALOC
            Dread lord, how might your grace with confidence
            Place mercenary warlocks in your trust,
            Who twist their gifts toward late-night banditry,
            It’s said, to paralyze their shaky preys.
            Tezcatlipoca, our capricious master,
            Might cloud our muddy minds yet murkier
            For slumping to such dubious helps as these
            If they make mock of his peculiar knowings.

TLACAELEL
            Don’t worry. If they cool your fevered fears
            We’ll hail their hocus-pocus as white physic.
            If not, then as black fiends in iron they’ll rot.

MOTECUHZOMA
            Bring in these esoteric ministers.

                                  A guard leads in three Sorcerers

            You three obscure and dicing conjurers:
            Have you beheld grim omens in the clouds,
            Or prodigies upon the earth? You three,
            Who fathom ‘neath earth’s black and gem-jammed caverns
            To skim atop cold pools of stone-blind fish
            And witness those who have not winked at day;
            Who sink into the water’s murky deeps,
            And loiter drowsily among the weeds,
            Mustering fronds and nightshades for your charms.

PRIEST OF TLALOC
            Have you encountered stray and mongreled men?
            Or lightless nooks congeal as dead men’s shades?
            Or midnight women, crablike, creep in broods?
            Shall we be leveled flat by strange disease,
            Or locusts, pirating their greedy shares?
            From sudden deaths, from wars or wild beasts?
            Shall rainstorms sink our rooftops down to jetties,
            And Tlaloc drown us in a tide of bounty,
            Or broil us in cruel sabbatical?

MOTECUHZOMA
            You must not candy up **** truth for me.
            Have you not heard our thirsting goddess cry,
            And nightly croaking from the earth’s deep faults?

Oh look...
I feel hollow once again
Why?
I don't know
Everything drained out of me slowly, but when it was all gone I felt empty and alone.
What does my mind go to as soon as I am empty?
It conjurers up a thought to fill the space, and an action to distract me.
Dizzy and timed, all I want to do is sigh..

You ask me why, referring to another thing.
But I can only look at you.

What we are
and what we see
are already known
in the universe,
She
knows everything

I know only the
three
F's
Friction
fission
Fusion

Or is it all a stage
and we're just
a conjurers
illusion?

After the tick and before the tock
of the ticking clock
there’s a time where we exist

In a grain of sand lies a world in our hands
where only we can be
like the whistle of the wind
that others hear
but only we can see

We are the dark where the stars have been
and the deepest sea where none have seen
and like the flight of a bee
we shouldn’t be

We are the force that will never be known
and we have what we never can own

We are the warmth of a womb
and the cold of a tomb

And when the bullet’s fired from the gun
we are the  final breath
before its deed is done

We are a child’s first present
On a Christmas morn
shadows between the light and dark
at the break of dawn




We are the water in the desert
in the madman’s eye
a relentless hope
neither truth nor a lie

we are the music of a rainbow
the scent of a dream
Dali’s melting watches
Munch’s silent scream

The scratch on the sky
the aeroplane leaves
the secrets hidden in
a conjurers mysterious sleeves


We’re the memory of a place,
we’ve never been
a déjà vu or a waking dream

We are less than a moment
and more than a lifetime
and eternity is ours

The beginning of an end
and the end of a beginning

We never are
yet will always be
that’s
you and me