Long Black magic Poems
Long Black magic Poems. Below are the most popular long Black magic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Black magic poems by poem length and keyword.
What twisted minds we have!
Fascinated by dark ritual,
sacrifice of human blood
to call black magic to our aid.
Alluring secret knowledge,
perilous complexities;
attempting to control
the supernatural.
How can this make sense anymore?
Two thousand years ago,
the Divine bled itself for us,
granted us power
despite our unworthiness and ignorance.
Freely given, and open to the light.
A ritual beyond our wildest dreams.
So condescendant, the Lord of the Light,
for all that we must do
is to believe,
and to eat,
And all is ours...
The terms of the pact really make no sense,
but God makes all things new.
3 June 2024
Black magic, white magic, it’s all the same,
It’s all devil worship, it’s just in the name.
These people all think that they’re clever sods too,
By casting their spells there is naught they can’t do.
Black magic, white magic, it’s all the same,
All witches and wizards are just plain insane.
They know it’s not real, they’re on a power trip.
Do they really imagine that we are all thick.
Black magic, white magic, it’s all the same,
They all believe, that there’s more to life’s game,
Than what you can see or the things you have heard,
Any sane person knows that is absurd.
Black magic, white magic, it’s all the same,
The trouble and misery that’s caused by this game.
The spells that they cast are just wrecking my life,
For they get the good things and leave us the strife.
Black magic, white magic, it’s all the same,
I’ll stick to religion it’s more like my game.
I’ll pray for some money for me and my wife,
I do not need magic to help me through life.
Black magic, white magic, it’s all the same,
Maybe, religion is part of this game?
If that is the case, I must think this one through,
Now where did I leave that good book on Voodoo.
Ivor G Davies
Is there any black magic in your eyes?
In your magnetism, I am hypnotized;
I see, in your glance, millions of fireflies.
By your piercing looks, I am mesmerized.
I'm filled with your thoughts in my wakefulness;
My sleeps are staged with your endless dances.
Aren't my smiles mirrors of your gracefulness?
Aren't my movements outcomes of my trances?
They declare I have gone out of my mind—
It's not true; rather, I'm possessed by you.
To this world and its beauties, I've gone blind;
Nothing else besides you seems to be true.
My soul is but a phantom in your hand—
I dance to rhythms I don’t understand.
The front rank hold stong,
from where does come the strength?
pushing forward, one step, another,
Keep pushing you red.
Swords, spears, axes, striking home,
black with enemy blood,
All weapons must be fed,
let Evil blood flow.
Yet blood shall still flow on both sides,
the horror of battle fulfilled,
the ranks of light and dark, hard pressed,
sweat mingles with blood.
The Arlaghs slowly moving back,
still, they are not done,
now a pivotal part of the battle,
the red cannot give ground.
There are still archers behind the main foot,
see how they ply their death,
they still fire their death into the air,
arrows striking home with deadly accuracy.
Carts now rolled from Alahsar,
they kept the archers supplied with death,
yet these supplies were not limitless,
never waste a shot.
Yet still, the enemy numbers hold,
do the dead rise upon the field?
What black magic is this?
the numbers did not decrease.
Look at the number of enemies fallen,
no one can see them rise,
their numbers still never seem to fail,
and a cold touch of fear can pierce the heart.
Men of Alahsar,
what power of spirit leads you on?
What song of power does grip your heart?
it is the song of man's glory.
This song has no end,
it is glories song of grace,
yet everything can have an end,
an end that brings forth bloody death.
Could this be the end of the song?
The song of golden Alahsar,
the time for warriors to fall on their swords,
the end of all that is joy.
These men shall have it not,
they shall fight on even though strength starts to fade.
strike home you men of honour,
fight on for all you love.
Onward, onward, let the spirit fire their souls,
one cannot think of the cost of defeat,
men, Arlaghs, spiders and wolves, all sing the song of death,
each fighting for the precious gift of life.
Battle does ever come with blood and pain,
The repugnant smell assails the nostrils,
oh, glory, how terrible is your song,
the living dread of all who love life.
Blood now freely mingling with the Earth,
the green dies before our eyes,
black, red, and dying green, now part of the song,
thunder has exploded on Badicha.
The battle rages on and on,
vacant eyes look to the skies,
glory's dream to live or fall,
the fulcrum falls one way or the other.
To Be Continued ..........
How I wished I had been granted to know,
The depth of the unused words, the hallucination of a happiness with purpose.
My labor, how much has dissipated into the void, in the vast unknown,
All the zeal, all the toil – a deaf echo, a terrified phantom, and a fasted feast.
The pains take shape in a carnival of weightless gestures,
And the deluge of stress caught me in a round dance of confusion, enveloping me like a mist.
A shattered heart and sleepless nights, empty theaters under the celestial vault,
You thought it insignificant, your eyes did not see, did not feel my struggle, a spectacle of phantasms.
Like an echo, my question resonates, "Am I worthy?"
And you, wielding words like black magic, become the sculptor of ambiguity,
"No one is simply categorized," you tell me with jeweler's delicate speech,
And yet you remain the transformative substance when other children call you to gather around the fire of life.
It is a bitter paradox, this theater of shattered promises,
I'm weary of being your artist and craftsman, yet receiving only the empty echo of your expectations.
My fatigue is a bird's feather fallen from flight, lost in the tumult of the night.
I wanted you to understand, to feel deep down and comprehend the cuts you crafted,
Each scar - an odyssey, traversed with the desire to touch your presumed sanctity.
How insignificant for you was any failure, any deviation from your desired line of triumph.
You say "I love you," yet you remain a silver-hearted idol,
An indifferent witness to my great drama unfolding on the stage of expectations.
The child within me, forever trying to be sculptor in your eyes,
Perhaps I once was that naive artist, but now...
Now I know better, the blaze of hope has turned to ash,
The palace built from dreams is now a ruin under the sun's dying rays.
That arc of love from long ago, now knows better its conceptions and regrets,
And my step through the fair of disappointments has become scenery for the unwritten plays.
“This is love: to fly toward a secret Sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life.
Finally, to take a step without feet.” ~ Rumi
Life can be a pilgrimage through rainless moors
and solemn seascapes draped
in mists of soundless mayhem,
where bleeding butterflies reflect
the fading stars etched with broken promises~
that time has abandoned.
I am a corpse of a firefly suspended
in a maroon mirage,
chained with petunias and pearls,
while my heart seeks a celestial chorus
to recite a harmonious hymn.
I yearn to write a compassionate chord,
ricocheting with empathetic embers,
silencing the fiendish
drumbeats of the devious leeches,
searing the fragile curves
of my cinnamon skin,
as I’ve long been a victim
of the vindictive voices of Satan
and his spellbound followers.
Yet nestled between temptation and torment,
a garden of miracles blooms
with lavender lakeshores,
its sweet scents of honey-rose petals
infusing the aching air,
unveiling a sky adorned with lily wings
and sapphire serenity.
O how I long to be the
silhouette of moon fairies
revising and rearranging
kismet melodies shaped in sorcery~
for I draw salt-kissed sunsets
in acrylic eloquence,
to eliminate black magic violations
still running beneath my trembling toes.
I will dance to the alliterative rhythm of
adjectives and assonance,
flowing in sync with the viking violin
within my soul.
So listen to the unlocked
tunes of restricted rhymes;
you’ll hear my name unchained from
the maleficent mantras~
weaving metaphors
screaming between resilient lines of
highlighted healing,
rephrasing the art of letting go
tattooed in raven jewels,
flipping porcelain pages of hope,
flowing within
the anthology of sprouting orchids.
Devilish life, oh what does this notion? Hmm, maybe evil life, or a diabolical life of bad human
I am this human, but no one thinks me a dark figure, because my style is great and my aura is bright
But this bright aura is a super shield, a perfect force field, a supernatural power of my mind, soul, and heart
Yes, it’s that, that’s why I am a famous witch, oh my life, oh, Christian life, my life is full of black magic and Wicca, black diamond and fire star
Evil life, my life is terrifying horror, dark soul, deep black space, even scarier than a black hole, indefinable cosmic world, but life
I am bad, I am wrong, I am satanic, I am demonic, I am horrific but peaceful as a lamb, I needed to be that, a Bible teacher, but my Gospel is my present life
Hmm, I wanted to be a Bible teacher, but psychologists here in London destroyed my life, because I didn’t accept their ideologies and “interesting” lives
Hmm, I sat in my room. Suffering and depression were my lifemates. Then a deep and kind male voice spoke to me. He said, I help you, just give your life
Satan spoke to me, he is the Master in my life. He lives in my heart, in my soul, in my mind.
Oh, my dear Satan, thank you for saving my life, I fly with you in space, in the sky
We are always together in the eternal, I work for you in your army, I am your man, demonic-like, can we do great things in the world, in the universe? Great games, worlds, power, and life, oh Satan! give me this life! Give me this life!
The astral eye of my astral body is red like yours and see everything, my mind becomes like yours, and will know everything, oh Master!
I want to live your life, but not alone, with another life, with my love, and we will be the first pair of people in hell, oh Master! Please, please, give us this life!
I see this woman in my dark soul. She is a bright flower, white like a bellflower, oh, Satan! Do you hear the ringing of bells in my heart? Can you feel my heart?
Please, give us this life, my life is yours, a lone soul in the infinite universe, a suffering spirit,
I have no family, and I have no stable home, please, oh Satan, give us this life!
Maroon Full Moon dazzling puzzling to scare,
rare on Halloween night.
Hello ! We are in Halloween party .
Evil devil, crooked wicked witches are seen
Ghost, the host , throwing party on hearty welcome !
Don't get late, please come.
Witches salute watching silhouette
on Moon face in grace : brilliant bright.
Swinging wings, flocks of hawks scream.
Moon beam flows, glows pumpkin.
Hazy birch beside church inside,
Black magic without logic shown at random.
Black widow through window coming rapid !
Stupid lady bug is ready to fight.
Crawling cockroach to approach:
Crazy witch, dizzy demon busy to drink wine.
Children of ghost, brethren of witch dance delight:
Prance polite , no boredom.
Walking in the moonlight, on a distant shore.Black magic, black mother let me pain no more.For the time has come for me to be alone.I must be this way for you have hit me with your last stone.I dug a ditch a long ways from here, I planted some lilies there.As I dug a grave for myself out in the middle of nowhere.As I head to the darkness where light has never shown.Tears keep coming and loneliness, heartache, the scars I'll forever have.Will i ever find who I wants was? I must hide my face and you should hide yours.Darkness is among us now.I don't hear a sound.Lord please forgive me as I'm about to sin.l asked you not to throw stones at me.That means you offered me pain.You are a sight for sore eyes.Darkness of evil has opened inside me.Broken bones with all the pain, Nightmares there's not a worse feeling to wake up and not have your memory.Someone else to feed you clean you.Screaming over and over, what the hell has happened to me.All for what? Lord only knows.iv'e always heard sticks and stones may break your bones.But you will never hurt me. We are here, this grave that i dug.Was never for me. It's for you...
A bubble of magic
escaped the divine,
popping to twist
a devil from time
——
All through our days
warlocks have lived
with the casting of spells
and a nature to give
Passing through veils
and wormholes in space,
they dwell with time
in serenity’s grace
Defending dragons
from knights with swords,
with a wave of hands
and utterance of words
Preparing potions
that mend broken parts,
making a rainbow
to shine hope to heart
——
But as the dark
is mirror to day,
evil does thrive
crushing his way
Creeping through swamps
and sitting in parks,
he looks quite normal
but that’s a farce
With a twitch of a lobe
he could take off your head
with a twist of his cane
you will wish you were dead
——
So till next time
take some advice,
don’t walk the parks
or his charm may entice