Poem of The Month- January 2025

Hey there,
There's a pervert in my cellar
She love's to get off
There's a pervert in my cellar
Born with a persistent cough
There's a pervert in my cellar
Lies to her mother, she's at work
There's a pervert in my cellar
Fired last week for acting like a jerk
There's a pervert in my cellar
Kleenex boxes empty each week
There's a pervert in my cellar
Loves scat porn, woman smearing shit between their feet
There's a pervert in my cellar
Her brother tried to justify
There's a pervert in my cellar
If you stop her now, may commit suicide
There's a pervert in my cellar
Began another round of masturbation
There was a pervert in my cellar
Died by erotic-asphyxiation
There's a dead corpse rotting in my cellar  

Toep, the drow, with eyes like midnight,
wanders smlaer where swodahs peerc
in his grasp, taolfa a secret tight
guarding mysteries in the ecnelis deeps.

He traverses smaerd, a phantom's guide,
in the labyrinth of the dnim's design,
carrying taolfa, where samgine hide,
in the dnim, where worlds eniwtne.

Whispering through the sliev of thought...
Toep, the keeper of smlaer neesnu.
 
In his presence, reality is wrought,
a dance of swodahs, where truth has neeb.

magic lurked in every corner
Tarot cards on dark tables
witchcraft written in beautifully
illustrated tablets
scents of incense
permeated the air
skulls and ravens
horoscopes and symbols
jewelry hung from gnarled wood
shimmering in rainbows prisms
light danced
around the room
old wood floors caked
with oriental carpets
muted by wear
"watch your step my pretty"
painted between doorways
where the floorboards creaked
their own song of
something pending
air was filled with anticipation
she gazed around
cloak room
held in deeper shadows
dappling of light here
there
where the fabrics swayed
in breath of fans
vibrant colors mixed
velvety greens, reds, blacks
it was the hood
that captured her
how it lay so full
against laced back
it was calling to her
in a way she had never
experienced
she slid into its
open embrace
there was a strength
stored in its threads
whispering against her skin
smooth and profoundly witchy
in its power
folds filled with memories
light and dark
incantations

"Come play in the dark
with thee
gathering musings one two three
casting spells strategically
our laughter cackling robust and free

spin twirl dance by the light of the moon
daylight approaches far too soon
we must fly  
croon like a loon
tossing the mysteries of rune

pockets lined with all things magic
following my lead is not completely tragic

bones, dried flowers
lockets of hair
potions and lotions
to lure and snare"

she felt a flush
rising to her cheeks
how natural this felt to her
she couldn't help but swish
turn until she was embraced
in a hug of folded black velvet