Enraptured bare witch endeavor In the mystical realm of witchcraft, there exists a constant pursuit of power and understanding. One particular witch, bare and exposed to both the physical and metaphysical world, embarks on an endeavor like no other. Enraptured by the possibility of delving deeper into the ancient arts, she dedicates herself to unraveling the secrets that lie within. Her journey begins with a relentless desire to comprehend the forces that govern the universe. With each passing day, she immerses herself in the study of ancient texts and grimoires, deciphering the obscure symbols and incantations that hold the key to unlocking immense power. Every word and every ritual draws her closer to an understanding that is both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
Same-old-used-to-be,
a reminder, there is lack.
Projection, entrapped, overlapped with dark craft zapped of power a witch a warlock got me in an Art like black, I am hexed the voice in the head says just give in control like a puppet the strings forming cyber like taking control. He is, to his way of thinking, the only one wearing shorts; The nine young men with him, baggy-wearing and body-pierced, Swoosh-adorned from head to toe, Sporting something which seem close kin To blown-up Bermudas or women s culottes.
Every word and every ritual draws her closer to an understanding that is both awe-inspiring and terrifying. But it is not just the pursuit of knowledge that consumes her; it is also the pursuit of self-discovery. Stripped of societal norms and expectations, the bare witch delves into the depths of her own being.
Enraptured bare witch endeavor
The Dark Sun Is My Sign
Pre Existing Time As We Know IT
Forgotten In The Turmoil Of Chaos
My Love, Fall Me Down
The Ages Are Mixing In My Memories
Time Is Eroding The Envelops of My Soul
What I Was Can Not Be No More
My Love, Fall Me Down
Searching From The Edges Of Eternities
I Have Nowhere Else To Go Anymore
For I Am Forbidden To Be Near You
My Love, Fall Me Down
Knowledge’s Forgotten By Gods
Are Disappearing From My Soul
For All I Think About Is You
My Love, Fall Me Down
The Purple Shard Holding Life For Eternity
Is Agonizing Day By Day
For All Energies Are Towards You
My Love, Fall Me Down
I Want To Carry My Spiritual Realms
To Enter Your Evanescent Worlds
Forming A new Creation Never Seen
My Love, I am Asking You, Fall Me Down
I Want To Protect You In My Arms
While You Will Grew New Life
She Will Be Beautiful as Emanating From You
My Love, I am Begging You, Fall Me Down
I Wish You To Offer Us A Life
By A Simple Word, By A Simple Sign
Making Karma Disappear At Last
My Love, I Implore You, Fall Me Down
When The Gods Are Answering The Eternal Cries
When Fate Is Bending Over The Sorrow
When Time Is Suspending For An Eternal Second
My Love, I Pray To You, Fall Me Down
Fears And Doubts Must Diseapear
For They Are Depraving The Worlds
Of The Most Beautiful Existence
My Creation Of Your World
You stood there,
On the cigarette smoke
Searching for
That distant fairy
You had and lost.
I sat here,
On the smoke of coffee
Reading the
Secretive warlock
That is you.
Entities of fairyland,
They stole your heart
And returned it to you shattered.
On empty wine you bottled up
The tears I traced in your eyes.
At all dimensions you conjure me,
Messages dressed on odd semantics,
So my heart sheds red river
Channeled through this pen, dried to dark blue
By the icy air around us- I lettered the thoughts.
Your bottled tears,
My lettered thoughts,
The potent spell
Binding us to this torment,
Let’s break it for once.
Nicotine on your lips,
Caffeine on mine,
Let’s speak the words of humans.
Abandon our depths and mysteries,
Demystify the things between.
Bewitched by your soul
I crave to know your gift
Your gift of knowing me
Owning me, filling me
Did you glamour me?
Or did I entrance you?
Your leadership of me
Makes it hard to resist
Your charm, your craft
I'm charmed by your knowledge
Enraptured by your mask
What are you?
Should I feel horror?
I feel so at home in your arms
Which of us is the witchery spirit?
Are you a warlock?
One that has locked me in a battle of need,
need of you?
Or am I the enchantress that has hexed you?
We cannot be parted, we are one
I am undone
Sorcerer of me
What is under your cloak?
i always wanted to be a fairy;
to be small,
skinny,
and free
to be able to fly,
soar through the clouds,
and touch the sun
i longed to be a vampire
so i could be beautifully pale,
survive on liquid alone,
and be asleep all day
i wished to be a zombie
so i didn’t have to eat,
so i could see my ribs,
and just rest in peace
i prayed to be a witch,
or a warlock;
make people see me for me,
and see me as a boy
i just want it all to get better
parallel sympathy endeavor
peaceful and untroubled
achieve ballerina twists
comforting serenity
pull a fast one on
elixir sip sucker stiff
tiny hornswoggle mulct
grandfather clock rich rock
chimney chalk ziggy pop
sirius kid dolls cudi feet tall
artists whirl revolution vet
wolf convincing sheep curve
non believers starting flames
horrid instant ways even livid
fears queen fairy dust spiral
wick gladness warlock king
abide nostrum wake flesh
archangel passion feans
world web crack addicts
mankind teach nine
nail soundness round
raiden uppercut fortify illegitimate
swine heedless being being beaten
headless ***** eyes hub pivot
nerve endings eager enthusiasm hitch
pitch outermost central swain free gist
intrigue archbishop market black illicit
red hot chili peppers implicate explicit
inundating problematic seniority cast
systems hook boom haze tomb prune
embrace bravehearts impale in arms
side by side shield elastic coats grace
Ezra clamber’d o’er the crest
to seek the way which he knew best
which, passing by the yellow tares
and turning at a grove of pears
set him at ancient fungal oak
where upon a branch he hung his cloak
For on some odd-nights within his mare
declared a warlock and his maiden fair:
“Spindled by the peary copse
after fields of shammy crops
stands that vile toady oak
shading torpid mystic folk
“Percieveth thee the one with warty beak?
‘Tis to him whom you must speak.
Rouse him from his slumber, Ezra,
pray of him your task."
The wizard with the moley snout
reclining with a snoozy pout
snored upward from that moldy bark
and whispered “yonder peasant, hark!
“Ezra, deary, there’s a bane
The shepherds hold in some disdain
for sheps can’t herd bereft of sheep
and this bane ingests them in their sleep.
Do ******* hip your faithful blade
and into swampy depths do wade
so to provoke this shepherd's foe
and smite him lifeless head to toe.”
. to be continued
This is me trying to write an epic.
Well, should I keep it up? What do you think?
As i sit a pawn this chair i think about the open air
It moves and changes temperature as we do
But in the case in what i am in it does not give life
It just makes my cold and black with jagged edges
My life as a Bass Guitar is long and strong on stage then back in the case where the memories of the last show sit in my head until the next time that am taken out of that coffin
To breath once more and to have life for a short amount of time .
B.C. Rich Warlock
Steep staircase to a long hallway
Pale curtains to open windows
Graze the air
All the way down to a narrow door
Waiting there
A door that lead to nowhere
Black void on the otherside
When you close your eyes before
Dreamtime
All I see are twinkling orbs akin
To the night sky
Blinking in this shadow room
Drops of water dripping down
I call out "hello"!?
Drip drip drip's the only sound
In this place that has no beginning
Or end
Suspended in space I call out
"Hello" again
And suddenly before my sight
Images glow in those orbs of light
That time my parents were in a fight
Screaming
Broken glass
My dad's arm was bleeding
That time I was trying to learn how
To ride a bike
I never got it down in spite
And the time I was bitten in the
Face by Warlock the choclate
Pitbull I'd almost erased from my
Memory
Those morbid night terrors I used to have-
I'm still afraid of the dark sometimes
There's the time shuffling down the sidewalk when I had decided I would runaway but my father found me later that day
That's me cutting my arm with a butcher knife when I decided in middle school I wanted to end my Life
I'm outside my body watching
Myself passed out at my own house
Party in high school
There's me knocking in the Neighbor's door barefoot
In the snow
Then the images melted and
Dissipated
I found myself
Wrought with secrets
Pieces of me untold to myself
Emotions resurfacing that I
Wasn't aware that I felt
Inside of me is this universe
As uncharted and vast as
The sea
These scribbles in notebooks are my
Legacy
So remember me
Remember me when you lye
Awake in the middle of the night
And the world's quiet and you're
Pondering the question of what
Life means
Your not alone.
Bone needle,
Jarred in wooden skin.
Silver thread glistens
In murky crimson sap, blood-akin.
Disciple Ajörn,
Squints beyond yonder.
Sap oozing in steady streams,
Into High Witch Åy'lla's beaker.
'Dryad, dryad, come
Foundling lost in Mireswamp.
Bless the Father of Lies,
Solitude begone.
Breathe fluid,
This wound I inflict.
Seep, drench, drown me
Beside you this moon I sit'
Seven quarters turned,
Blighted, glazed and dead.
Moon spanned all skies,
While Ajörn lay in a stranger's bed.
Reckoning came,
As sudden as his unfortunate arrival.
Witch and Dryad stirred ,
This night the moon, in denial.
'Stop, please?'
Hungry cackle, a shift of pose.
Needle removed, so gently
Soulsap collected in whole.
Åyll'a's bones, deft, finger blades
Nipping and knotting,
Slipping and sliding,
Silver of her thread, red of his being.
'Now we begin'
Sap and thread entwined.
Needles countless descended,
Pain silencing her whines.
Elder craft, this magick,
Dirge of the deathless.
Blood-bone colour of threads
Weaving over her *******.
Weave, weave, my gentle love
What was two can be one.
Bounds known not to sentient life
Awake once more beyond ****** strife.
Through her skin, by her hand,
His sap she sewed unplanned.
Rivulets and lanes of High Witch blood,
Danced black and dark over skin, bland.
A tiara made flesh,
A finger bound in rings,
Ruby fluid flowed freely
Dancing with it's silver twin.
Moans ensued,
Pursuing now departed cries.
The Ritual of The Weave,
One death from being complete.
Like sawdust, he fell,
Strong disciple Ajörn.
Soul, sap, life taken in turns,
An undead Warlock was born.
Not corporeal, fatally surreal,
An existence wrought in threads
Strung by unearthly hands,
A partner in despair and dread.
Dryad lost,
Witch no more.
Two lives threaded
As one, forevermore.
'I'
'I'
'am'
'am'
Wheezed two voices in unison
'we'
'are'
Chanted the Witchlock in delusion.
She had that cute impish smile,
would flutter about
with her wings
hanging out.
And when I filled her
with my warlock-glitter,
she'd flood my soul
with fairy blood,
O such a sweet nymph!
Roiled in his writhing way
Mankind's ****** in manic play
Hurled forth to War's lament
All, once valued, sadly spent.
Pedantic though that beast may be
Enthralled by battle's fantasy
Of how it led in lethal boast
To death within appeals wry host,
Was this the way our world must lie,
Engorged, as bloated watchers cry?
Be this our fate in humankind
Where sighted saw whilst being blind?
Un-guided, now, this way of God
Where Caesars ghost, once sought and trod?
M.
September 12 2021
Planet Earth
A full throated howl
as the dark returns
keening as witch or warlock
at their organised religions
their doctrines and strictures
I’ll gather the hemlock
and the red cap
to lace their tea and platitudes,
their pious attitudes
of bell ringing shame
in my mind’s eye
the rictus grin that takes them
is sweet as autumn fruit
An undying source of witchcraft
Known to man as a plague-
A soul cannot escape from its grasp.
A dying curse slowly,
devouring my heart.
cursing me
for vengeance.
And making me feel
I am alone.
a prisoner of birth
the beachcomber
an a red rabbit
conversing in the place of lightness
spoke of the point of origon
then, shared the deception on his mind
in a painted house
until memories of midnight
became monday mourning
and the warlock
cried it's over now
let's bake ginger breads
Avoid
those corners,
bit my lip
plugging
my ears,
always
shifting
to second gear.
Wanting her
to **** the chrome
right off my trailer hitch.
I 'll be the warlock
to your little witch.
Pray tell, what's that smell,
it's gone and stunk up
your brand new ancient well.
Same-old-used-to-be,
a reminder, there is lack.
Waiting for some stranger
to give me a whack,
someone stranger than strange,
have them dress in black.
I lay my sword lion heart on the ground
and ask for a parley
finding yourself is better then not knowing
and by lucky chance I found my ancient name
Even my sweet ***** cat is deemed warlock
yet only being with one liken to me
so no arms I hold this day
this the last of me, this Sunday
Please ponder on my scares
for each one was for you
and I will forever protect Earth
In everything that I do
Only a few of wonders know my real name
to speak it would be a sin of sins
I am wind and the sky
the breath of a new born child
So know every scare I have
truly with pride was for you
and when I die broken
I will transfer my love to you
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
© 2012 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Finally!
This witch can
leave the cauldron…
for she is
no longer
under your spell..
it doesn’t even matter
whether you,
a warlock of words,
somehow know
or can tell
She is free
of darkened spells casted
that get blood flowing
Free from runes
and poetic vibes
sent unknowing
Free
of the clutter
of secrecy
and magic potions
Free
To fly in widened,
expansive motions
As if on some sacred
timeless dance floor
Arms arisen
she swings her hips
as sensual verse
flows from her lips
Her emotions are wild, now
With liberation given
A loving gift
she has given herself
So raise the glass
For she has found herself again
Time for celebration…
So let's commence
the festival
of true
emancipation
Sometimes I beat myself up in your glory,
And sometimes my tears flow like river Nile in your honor.
Your wonders on me are misery and dolor,
And starting over is your judgment.
I know failure is a tool in your hands,
And pain is your mercy.
You are a warlock, who conquers hearts and lands
A general you are, that breaks one in pieces.
You are a pause in success,
And disappointment is your surname.
A predator that preys on even lions,
And auguish is your mercy.
But I know you a soldier that matches me on
Keeps me alive to push harder and harder,
Makes me go further and further,
To struggle, until success is my slave.
.
Balogun David Tolulope
Silver tongued serpent,
Emerald-eyed warlock,
When he speaks, the crowds will surely flock,
Raven-haired "deity"
Creator of his own piety
Atheism is my saving grace
Otherwise I'd be caught up with him in some cult-like space
He, a fierce lion
I, a timid gazelle
This shapeshifter of a man
Stalked his prey until she waned
The energy to avoid his pursuit is well beyond drained
I put up a good fight, ignored his advances every single night
Professing his love to me tested my might
Am I upset this man wore me down?
In the beginning, indeed.
But now I understand that we were both in need
Of someone who could withstand intense emotion
Of someone who would show unfaltering devotion
Projection, entrapped, overlapped with dark craft
zapped of power a witch a warlock got me in an Art like black,
I am hexed the voice in the head says just give in control
like a puppet the strings forming cyber like
taking control.
Wondering if I should continue engraving my name on these fables.
I should give up.
Or I will start.
I wait for the midnight to move.
Sleeping for her newest hour.
This point brings me no higher.
With this fortune I move every warlock in this world.
Pictures worth many words.
Letters not worth burning.
Over all the words, the few strikes of the storm.
Jumping from dilated memories.
This is enough erasing.
They have burnt my bothers and sisters
they tried to **** us all
yet I am only one of the few that got away
and they will not be burning me
See the bones in the ashes
the stakes charred
they called us witches
my children of the stars
So now I cast a solar spell
lets see who burns now
I will find the witch smellers
and destroy them all
I am warlock and guardian of time
dare step on my toes
and I vow now
I will pound you into slime
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
I am the wicked warlock into the woods--
Which chose to be silently in love with a short-haired poetess wizard.
We were poles apart from beliefs and identity.
A spell versus curse;
wand versus potion,
mind versus heart.
Who will win?
(sigh)
I'd made a potion for you--
A potion for fondness;
Brouhaha; ain't laugh of the devil,
But a mirror of my emotion.
I opened the potion,
but I was rejected.
by your spell, 'Avada Kedavra'--
I died--
I died.
He is, to his way of thinking, the only one wearing shorts;
The nine young men with him, baggy-wearing and body-pierced,
Swoosh-adorned from head to toe,
Sporting something which seem close kin
To blown-up Bermudas or women’s culottes.
Back in the day they would have been laughed right off the courts,
But it is not his day any longer, as he is constantly reminded;
He wears shorts that merit the term, old leather Converse All-Stars
Cracked and faded as the berm of the back roads
In this out-of-the way locale,
A faded and decades-laundered jersey
Bearing the name of a long-defunct auto dealership.
The kids call him “Jumping Toyota.”
Yo, Toyota—no dunkin’ on us tonight, OK?
Hollering and laughing as they dap and jump-and-bump,
Mimicking playground ballers in cities
They have never been within three hundred miles of,
And he smiles in grim resignation,
Knowing he might get a fingertip on the rim on a good day.
His game is strictly cerebral, horizontal now,
The muted, pastel joy of a solid, timely pick
Or well-thrown bounce pass
Has become his vehicle of blacktop epiphany,
And he eases up now and then on the offensive end
To provide succor to tendons and ligaments
Which, in spite of admonitions to himself
That at your age you need to take it easy, *******
Will still register their protests a very few hours from now
Leading to tortured grimaces and the occasional audible grunt,
As he holds his place on the third-shift line at the Alcoa plant
Bringing his co-workers to ask him,
In that hazy place between bemused and stupefied
Man, don’t tell me you’re still playin’ ball?
Once in a while, though, he will still drive hard towards the tin
And, eighteen again for the a snapshot of a moment,
He will stop on a dime and drop a jump shot
Making no noise whatsoever
Save for the whispery snap of the bottom of the net,
Sound every bit the same as it was
Before his knees and ankles went rogue.
Outside the chain-link fence, a young man plugged into his iPod
Bobs his head in time to some unheard song
As he leans in an approximation of nonchalance
Against a great old elm tree
(Branches bedraggled and drooping,
Giving it the air of some old warlock gesturing in mock-menace
Though his wand has gone a-gleaming,
His magic having deserted him as well)
Which bears a large painted orange circle
Signifying its imminent destruction.
Fate is a funny bird,
The way she breezes in,
like a tipsy traveler,
tinkering with the scenery,
bumping switches,
with a head toss and a laugh,
Then flitting off,
to the next hapless reality,
leaving not so much,
as a blueprint,
or a crudely sketched,
cocktail napkin,
in her wake.
And so began the story of us.
I had seen the inside of that bar,
but once in a decade,
it was the sort of solo-cup,
frat haven,
of the type I staunchly avoided,
But the city was a Sunday night,
ghost town,
and she snd I were diligent,
two chicks desperately ,
chasing the night,
we wandered onto Boston Street.
And you were there,
slinging drinks,
to a smattering of people,
peanuts,
A handful of bar snacks,
in semi formal wear.
And then there were three,
I'll never know,
if it was boredom,
or a mutal wish
to be anywhere,
but our respective homes,
that kept it going,
or if something,
in each of us,
recognized the other,
that night,
Gypsy dancing into the dawn,
sauced on your private recipe,
lemonade warlock potion,
my frienzied twirling stitching,
a spell in the darkness,
while my friend,
assured of her superiority,
tried to ****** you,
With that cocked-brow smirk,
you looked past,
and watched me.
Was I burning bright?
Or burning out?
A superstar in your midst,
or a supernova self-destructing?
I think we've yet to see it
the same way,
at the same time.
Is this our strength,
or our impending demise?
To this day I can't be sure.
And somwhere,
in a dank speakeasy,
our mistress fate,
is taking a long sip,
from a dry martini,
and throwing back her head,
with a throaty laugh.
Oh, the secret warlock
of your bad intentions
never let others pull your corrections,
push them with inhibitions
be caution, careful what you wish,
or else die inside will be your kiss
Pray tell, what's that smell,
it's gone and stunk up
your brand new ancient well.
Through meditation, she journeys into the recesses of her mind, unearthing memories, fears, and desires that have long been buried. In facing these shadows, she gains a profound understanding of herself and her place in the world. As she progresses on her path, the bare witch encounters challenges that test her will and resilience. She faces formidable adversaries and confronts her own doubts and limitations. But with each obstacle overcome, her power grows and her resolve strengthens. She is a force to be reckoned with, a beacon of strength and determination in a world that often seeks to snuff out such light. The endeavor of the enraptured bare witch is one of transcending boundaries and pushing the limits of what is possible. It is a journey of self-discovery and empowerment that knows no bounds. Through her unwavering dedication and thirst for knowledge, the bare witch forges a path that is uniquely her own, inspiring others to embrace their own inner power and embark on their own enchanted endeavors..
Reviews for "The Enraptured Bare Witch: Embracing Nature's Power"
1. John - 1 out of 5 stars:
I found "Enraptured bare witch endeavor" to be extremely disappointing. The plot was underdeveloped and confusing, and the characters lacked depth and complexity. There were way too many explicit scenes that seemed forced and unnecessary, overshadowing any potential for a meaningful storyline. Overall, this book felt like a cheap attempt at erotica rather than a captivating literary work. I would not recommend it to anyone looking for a well-written and engaging book.
2. Sarah - 2 out of 5 stars:
"Enraptured bare witch endeavor" didn't live up to my expectations. The writing style was subpar, with repetitive phrases and lackluster dialogue. The story itself lacked originality and felt like a cliché romance novel with a supernatural twist. It was difficult to connect with the characters as their actions and motivations were inconsistent throughout the book. Overall, I found this novel to be a forgettable read that failed to capture my interest or imagination.
3. Emily - 2 out of 5 stars:
I had high hopes for "Enraptured bare witch endeavor" based on the intriguing premise, but unfortunately, it fell flat for me. The pacing was slow, and the narrative lacked tension and excitement. The romantic entanglements between the characters felt forced and lacked genuine chemistry. There were also many inconsistencies and plot holes that made it difficult to fully immerse myself in the story. Overall, I was left disappointed with this book and wouldn't recommend it to others seeking a captivating paranormal romance read.