Broadsides have a long and storied history as one of the first vehicles for disseminating poetry to the public. After the invention of moveable type in the 15th century, proclamations and official notices were printed on broadsides and distributed. …
First Poetry Music Audio Recording “Voices of Freedom”
-(Trying to add slide show)-
Voices of Freedom -21
Dancing without a name
She was naked in her silence
Stone, statues, salutations
Desires from a Hellenistic waterfront
Ancient scriptures reveal hidden sources
Among firey chariots and beat up taxis
Neon lights flicker to the rhythm of abandoned youth
In a Holy, Glory brought on by the Atomic age
Birds swell like waves in the evening sky
Lighting fires of brilliance, in the skulls of men
Heroes fall like mad children
Women dine upon wine and gold
Winter months take Persephone’s hand
And fear takes refuge upon the land
Freedom of expression is lost in Cancel Culture News
We must break the shackles of Adversity
Tyranny, Irony, Authoritative Views
With a New Generation if we are to continue
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
©2021
By The Jetset Vagabonds
Lyrics:
(First verse)
Found my self in a distant land
I’m a shadow where I roam
I’m the calm before a Holy war
Bellum sacrum zone
I caught a glimpse of neon hope
I’m A reflection in your eye
The falling down off Jacob’s ladder
Into a chariot of fire
……………………….
(Pre-Chorus)
Throw your self around me
Breathe my ship wrecked body in
Toss and turn me Violently
Until The Electric storm begins
Ohhhhhh where do we go
Somewhere down in Jones town
Candy streets and honey comb
Leave the restless wanting more
……………………….
(Chorus)
Misery
Oh Misery
I call her by her name
Misery
Oh Misery
I call her by her name
…………………
(Second Verse)
Paint by numbers colour me
All the shades from pale to black
Newspaper headlines cover me
My Poisoned heart in a gunny sack
I’m a spaceage dream I’m the universe
I’m A rocketship to Mars
We’re The Calling we’re the faceless ones
We’re tattoo tears and czars
……………………….
(Pre-Chorus)
Throw your self around me
Breathe my ship wrecked body in
Toss and turn me Violently
Until The Electric storm begins
Ohhhhhh where do we go
Somewhere down in Jones town
Candy streets and honey comb
Leave the restless wanting more
……………………….
(Chorus)
Misery
Oh Misery
I call her by her name
Misery
Oh Misery
I call her by her name
…………………
Misery
Oh Misery
I call her by her name
Misery
Loves company
To her it’s just a game
…………………
Misery
Oh Misery
I call her by her name
Misery
Oh Misery
I call her by her name
…………………
(Out)
New Mexico
Desert
Arid
Cool
Summer
Night
1947
Falling star?
Metallic bits
Scattered like
Shrapnel
Farmers with kerosene lanterns
Spread out searching in a line
Not unlike like a police hunt
To find a murdered teen
The U.S. Army Air Force
Released newspaper headlines
They’d recovered a “flying disc” From Roswell ranches Ley lines
Clear-cut coverups
Conflicting explanations
From fallen saucer
To weather balloon
The locals claimed
It came from the moon
Grey
Slight
Almond eyes
A body was recovered
That was about a child’s size
Government contracts
And alien blood drawn
Reverse engineering
Had immediately begun
Smart phones, 5G tech
Satellites born from the wreck
Project Blue Book
The Majestic 12
Debunking eyewitnesses
Their stories shelved
In catacombs within Area 51
Extraterrestrial life is cloned
Jackie Gleason, Richard Nixon
View four specimens in jars
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
©2021
Oh
how I adore
Bukowski!
Gone
are my days
of following
suit
Liquid courage
Liquid inspiration
Liquid armour
Liquid truth
I found love
In the rhythm
Of an old second hand
Typewriter
That cost
Less
Than a cheap
Lunch
I found
A
Voice
A
Vision
A
Secret
Meaning to life
Today
I celebrate
The Calling
If
You care
to join the
Circle…
Our
Circle
We can
Dance
To a private
Fire
And make
Some Noise..
©2021
Charles
Charles
Beer
Bar fights
Cheap hotels
Neon signs
Prostitutes
Police
Mailman
Angry
Beautiful
Typewriter
Angste
Poetry
Cockroaches
Classic Music
Park benches
Wine
Refrigerator
Stage
Readings
Live
Ugly
Horse races
Bull fights
Encore
I was in a bar
Just off Hollywood Blvd.
It was of course dark
Musky, Humid…
The way a bar ought to be
People shoulder to shoulder
Spilling drinks
Stepping on toes
Blowing out your eardrum
For some sissy drink
People are like sardines
Not because their packed together so tight you can’t think
But they’re dead just the same Staring at you with vacant eyes
The music of the night
A brilliant score to a living movie
Where love cats dance along Fascination street singing a Lullaby that sounded just like heaven … To my ears anyway
But
There was a silent
Tinge of death
In the air
I could feel it within my skin
The front door
Burst open
The wind howled in
A girl with tears
In her eyes
Cried he died
He died
Charles has died
It was a somber moment
The air froze
Time stopped
Nervously
Anxiously
I humbly inquired
Almost stuttering
“Charles who???”
Bukowski
Bukowski
Bukowski
The music
Seemed to come
To an abrupt halt
Her Cries continued
Bukowski
Bukowski
Bukowski
In a moment
That many would not
Could not
Understand
This night
Like No other night
Would silently
Change
The world
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
© all right reserved
Pictured Charles Bukowski Google images
*note- the bar was Boardners. Ironically I was going to ask what the bar was in the area as I couldn’t remember for years the name of it. Scrolling through posts just moments ago, it was mentioned and it all came running back along with a thousand other memories from that bar.
1958
Elston Gunn
What have you done
I hear you murmur
But nothing’s coming through
The Golden Chords
I’m sure I might have appreciated
I like Elvis
Little Richard
The Kings
And Queens
Of Rock-n-Roll
Bold, Raw, Electric Sexy
Writhing pelvis banned from TV
Eye liner, purple suits
Long before a Prince
Formed a new generation
Rebellious youth
Collective release
Of surging endorphins
Screaming, Shrieking
Out of control
Sneaking back stage
Into hotel rooms
And limousines
1962
Porous gravel
Littered the streets
Coffee tasted like dirt
A rank stench
Came blowing in the wind
Indeed, the times were changing
Mystified
Unjustified
I walk these streets
To quantify
A semblance of understanding
Trying to comprehend
How pestilence upon my ears
Could be received
With such reverance
The tranratula had fallen
By the wayside
As a disappointment
For the anxious
Of written word
A target of critic’s scorn
I wipe my brow
Looking down
Shake my head
With
Misunderstanding
And contempt
“Now’s not the time to get silly, so wear your big boots and jump on the garbage clowns.” Zimmerman
© (matthew bowers) ~93
Bitter fruit
Haunts me
Grows within my bones
Like
cancer
I feel ashamed
Hurt
A veritable maelstrom
of insane thoughts
Stabbing
My guts
Blunt force trauma
Bruised
Stupid
Overlooking empty shadows
Of
Nevermore
Why am I condemned to be
The martyr
The fool
Ignorant in belief
Lost hope
We were pirates
Vampyres
Daredevils
Survivors
Kin
I held an open door for you
And now
It’s just a cold
Frozen
Hollow dream
A figure of my
demented mentality
Steeped in fondness of
What might have been
Joyous oceans
Drops of rain
Dried
Denied
Abandoned
Without reply
The medicine cabinet is filled
With cure alls
But not for me
Just
Pills
And
Regret
And in the end
the taste
Of bitter fruit
(Matthew Bowers) ~93
©2021 rip
Book is available NOW on #Amazon
Something Witchy This Way Comes https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09J799RRB/ref=cm_sw_r_apan_glc_fabc_N02TVE9SGFYAZ37ZS2MK
138 pages, $13.93 available on Amazon
Celtic roots
Persephone’s tale
The return to Demeter
Hekate assumes the role
Of watcher of the underworld
Bonfire dance
Pagan circles
Welcoming the harvest
As dark winter approaches
The line between death and life
Blurred, broken
Communicate with the dead
Necromancy alters
Celebrations
Ancestors
Offerings
Photographs
Bread
Wine
Magnolias
Sun wheels
Blaze
Cattle
Sacrifice
Three days
Three nights
Celebration
Or
Death
Celtic men and women
People of the village
Dress as animals
and monsters
Protection from abduction
By fairies and fae
To twilight
Domains
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
I did a collaboration with Nico Tolen in my book Something Witchy This Way Comes and not only was it fun & Great but It even made it into one of my audio trilogy tracts!
I am in a place of “pushing” out of set elements… I don’t want to use the term “comfort zones” because you Never know if That little something that Is you will enhance the experience!!!
For example in a poem written to a picture prompt of River Phoenix walking down a road of solitude, In MY opinion… the author/ poet Really tapped into the archetype of self discovery, being comfortable within ones own skin…
You can REALY “Feel” the character in this poem even though it IS the Poet.
Poetry is like Acting ….
Seeing
Feeling
Using ALL of your Senses to create an experience
Be the character
Be the poem
Be abstract
Be adjectives
Be verbs & nouns
Be creative
Be different
If you are going to use a word like “light”
I fell into the light
STOP
try *Sun*
I fell into the Sun!!!
You got this!!!!!
If yu DO decide to collaborate
I can ONLY Promise magnificent results and incredible memories and a BRILLIANT PIECE!!!
Crimson foliage
Welcoming heralding the way
A red carpet for Autumn months
Winter chill
Upon it’s heels
Wood burning stove essence
Fragrant throughout the air
Childhood memories streaming back
Time travel almost real
Innocence
Frolicking in foliage mounds
The warmth of a fire
Marshmallows and hot chocolate
Dreams of new cartoons
School days off
Pilgrims and Mayflowers
Within the crimson leaves
Beneath the gloom
The glowing moon
A bitter smile upon a frown
Turned around
The shadows
Of an emptiness
Shine like pale reflections
In sullen moments
Without atonement
Lunar nexus to the call
Stone vessel
Omnipotent heir
No rhyme
No reason
Tranquil sea
of despair
I would offer my treasure
My pearly crown of thorns
A gift upon my altar
A glimpse into
the very depths
of the tireless abyss
Where is my uniform
The one adorn
Before the war
My fingers are numb
With desperation
And
fatigue
Rain river drops Loli pops
A sucker is born a lamb
Sacrifice
Before the narcissistic All
You know my name
You know my name
Is there glory in the hilltops
Are watching eyes spread eagle
Do cities and towns burn
or lament
around voices of ancient past
My Mesopotamian goddess
With the striking eyes
Three faces of Eve
Morning
Noon
Night
Can you say we danced
Into oceans of salt
Our body’s slid in shadows
Carnal silhouettes
Painted murals on the ground
Bathed in mud
Blood
Juniper
I offer you my humility
I gave you my all
I ask for nothing
For that
Is
What I
am
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
2021©
Spellbound
Bloodhound
Livid in my veins
A mess all around me
Suffocation
I can’t breathe
Mother Superior’s
Got a gun
That loaded steals
Pointed directly between
My eyes
There ain’t no counting
From one to ten
No time to turn back
I forged the bonds
Of pain and loneliness
Decades ago
Regret
Regret
Staple gun reasons
Shackles
Heavy iron chains
Suspend me to the wall
A whipping boy of shame
Screaming Echoes
Anger and Hatred fill
The Air …
Familiarity Does breed
Contempt
There Is No true escape
Other than
Out
There Is darkness….
That can Not be denied.
There Is the darkness of the void that consumed the light…. And a Real darkness that lies within the hearts and souls of man (human)….
If you do Not see this or have experienced this then you are indeed fortunate…. Or blind. But I do agree that before light/ dark…. There “was”.
….. There is something indescribable , unfathomable, like there are resisters implanted within our consciousness to prevent us from absorbing the All in our human form…. A circuit breaker if you will….. Without light, darkness does not exist…. Without light darkness light does not exist… All of the secrets and answers that we search and find, reside in the realm of various grey……
Knowledge is lost within True darkness as you are blinded by Too much light…
Only in the middle will you find the truths.
Stank
Running
Liquid
Toxic
HOT
Smoking
Lethal
Chemical
Nausea
Delirium
Twisted
Chrome
Monster
Dripping
Iron
Flowing
Scarlet
Secreting
Roadside
Glass
Confetti
Smashed
Crashed
Reflecting
Destroyed
Ruined
Lacerations
Polyester
Tournecate
Thin
Sinewy
Threads
Barely
Hold
Skull
To
Shoulders
Kitchen Table
Print
Gown
Stain
No
Seeping
Wet
With
Yesterdays
Possibilities
Layne
Barren
Lifeless
On
Route
90
Afternoon
Sun
Relentless
Unforgiving
A
Star
Sex
No
More
Platinum
Blond
Wig
Melting
Scene
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
Glorious
Perfection
Self-reflection
Born of Fire
With True Direction
From Flames
To Ashes
To Flames again
A renewal
Tempered
Spiritual
Alchemy
Friend
Continue
To
Rise
Ignite the
SKY
Illuminate
Your truth
There’s
Nothing
To Hide
Beside
The Dragon
The strength
Proud
Nobility
Reaching
Inside
You’ve found
The Key
Its always been there
Now with nurturing
From chrysalis
To butterfly
Your living
Again
Pure
Impurities
Removed
The Calling
Of this vessel
Brings light
Into view
Rise Up
Higher
Rise Up
Brighter
Go forth
Where Icarus
Failed
Share the word
A living
Tale
Reborn
…………
(matthew bowers) ~93
© all rights reserved
Bed time
Story line
Liquid imagination
The author, poet
Comes to life
In the mind’s eye
Of creation
Character’s yelling
Laughing, crying
As the alchemist’s
Practice Scrying
Whispering
The sirens sing
The gods recieving
Offerings
Retelling myths
And
Ancient tales
Prophecies
And parables
Campfire nightmares
Full moon eclipse
Ghosts and goblins
From the abyss
Pages
Yellowed
Torn
And
Worn
Neon thunder
The child’s born
New world keys
Dimensional beings
Time traveler
Adventure
Celestial meanings
Line by line
Word upon word
Forming kingdoms
Where lost children
Are lured
The great escape
From a mundane life
Vanishing thoughts
Into chapters and rhymes
Refuge
Peace
Welcomed
Relief
As
Minstrels
And bards
Create
Unique
Realities
Electric words
Brought to life
By the author/ the poet
The writers
Alike
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
© all rights reserved
Art *(matthew bowers)* ~93
Sorry,
not
feeling
quite
myself
Haunted
with the flavour
Of melancholy blues
Suicide stripes
with razor
teeth
I’m lost in a personal hell No saving grace Or Escaping the true fate
That I myself
have forged
There are no answers
Or secret keys
My shadow if filled
with heavy echoes
Reverberating MADNESS
that only I
must endure
I have fallen in
With quicksand
Heavy tar pits of
Ancient molasses
That killed beasts
Much stronger
and bigger than me
Where is this voice
this voice of pain
coming from….
Internal
External
what forces are at play
I’ve witnessed soldiers fall
In my dreams
And
at my feet
We once share breath
the essence of life
laughing beneath the moon
drinking forgetting under
the stars
I now realize
That it won’t be long Before I join the
Others
In twisted fate
Kool numb emptiness
Fills my bones
Where will I be when I say my final Goodbye
93
Truth
I Have experienced and gone through Twin Flame reality
It is first hand true knowledge that I share…
you cannot change the Will of others
Through
MagicK
Such indifference to my reality, spirituality, and works…..
I am nothing but a compilation of complaints….. disappointments
Horrible reception
This life
But I still see the world through fresh MagicK eyes
That is part of what drives me
That is my oxygen
Helping others
I die each day
Growing closer to the eternal
Returning to the source of ALL
I will, we Will return from where we came
Energy
Universal consciousness
Divine essence
From where we reside
To our true path
We must perform
Spiritual Alchemy
And
Understand our place
Within the darkness
And
The light
I have found my path
Not through belief
Dogma
But
Process of elimination
Finding truth
Even hidden within lies
I recognize your light
Your gifts
You are more real than a false messiah that people line up to worship
A saviour “saves”
Does Not exist or tolerate to be worshipped
That… is ego
I recognize that Divine spark within you
That is why I encourage you….
“Nor do they light a lamp and then
put it under a bushel basket;
It is (instead)
set upon on a lamp stand,
where it gives light to all
in the house.
your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify ….
Not as much to a “heavenly father”…
but to others
that they may recognize their Own light and see truth
To Share A Spiritual freedom
For “them”
to Understand that Love
is the
Law…..
93/93
Silence
Mourning
Morning
Fate
Kisses
Softly
Beyond
Deaths
Gate
Hunger
Wicked
Absynthe
Delight
Disappear
Before
Coming
Light
Holding
Darkness
Distant
Veil
Tragic
Turns
Piercing
Nails
Mystery
Hidden
Eyes
Unseen
Mortal
Coil
Life
Between
Touching
Darkness
Fading
Black
Desire
Calling
Turning
Back
Moments
Vanish
Consumed
Within
Heaven
Hell
Without
Sin
Fallen
Angels
Dancing
Fire
God’s
Illusion
Burning
Pyre
Come
Welcome
My
Escape
Holy
Lies
Beneath
Nightscape
Tired
Worn
Cemetery
Eyes
Embracing
Beauty
Surrendering
Butterflies
(matthew bowers) ~93
Silent, hunger,
Vamp, vixen eyes
Porcelain skin,
She hypnotized
Victims of night
Cool autumn air
Beauty in disguise
You better beware…..
Mists of London
Streets of Transylvania
The echo of footsteps
Wet, approaching behind you
A velvetine whisper
A moment of trust
Caught in the throes
Consumed in blood lust
Emptying the vessel
To the brink of lifeless mortality
A victim no more,
A transformation to Royalty
Queen of Darkness
With an heir to her throne of Red
Forever bonded
To the kingship of undead…
*(matthew bowers)*~93
© all rights reserved
She’s a bad ass
She don’t take shit
But when it comes to out right fights man,
She kills them with looks and words
She’s all colorful
Like a brand new box
Of Crayola crayons
She’s excitement, art
Filled with spiritual knowledge
She’s a rainbow,
a fountain of youth
A punkrock Lunch
Lydia style
Vampyres, Jung, Nietzsche
She is MagicK
She is the Stars
She is Diamonds
In another life,
on another continent,
in another time
She could have ruled
The Sunset Strip
Hollywood Boulevard
Glitter, Glam, and leather
With piercing eyes
She is Diva Triformis
Goddess of the moon
She’s Helter Skelter
She’s a neon light
She’s a birth mother
And mother of the night
She’s the most,
She wears her heart on her sleeve
Love is the word
It’s what she shares best
She is freedom
A much deserved smile
She’s the queen Down Under
But you can’t feel her miles
She is the huntress
She Is Respect
And best of all….
I call her friend
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
Simple animation
Flickering
broken lines drawn
black and white
……While the youth laugh
A chariot to Fulsome
Carrying
nonbelievers
without sin
……Lord have mercy
German city tenants
Disturbing
open graves
no hope to give
……Achtung mornings
A wild man from Borneo
Keeps secrets
crawls back inside
yesterday’s lies
……All’s forgiven
With purple shades drawn
Walking the dead
With purple shades drawn
Walking the dead
Hunger rises taking names
Spreads like plagues
mana drippings
lost in deserts
…… Around in circles
Broken streets and beltway’s
Recalling
moments gone by
in distant lands
……Telephone silence
A utopian ideas
Gathering
revelation
the poor understand
…….There is no freedom
Children see the coming
Staggering
heavy stars fall
echoing
……Belief in Blavatsky
With purple shades drawn
Walking the dead
With purple shades drawn
Walking the dead
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
How come I cannot find you
if I see your face
it is empty
with invisible eyes…
frowning
I cannot touch you
the streets, the city
is empty
hollow voice crying
where Are the voices
the unity, the fire
and harmony
where is the pain that brings
us together
a circle of vision that
starts the wheels.
To change or kill a world
it needs to be done
Gone to the fire, the abandonment
selfish desires.
a disease that rots in your gut
and you’re helpless
if you are blind and numb
the anger could reawaken those
tired eyes of yours
and bring the song of others
to the circle…
this
circle
that is heavy…
alone
(matthew bowers) ~93©
Panic in the back room
Dangerous eyes dart
back and forth
Cheap unspoken labour
Cold tile sweat pours
streaks of chaotic numbness
Heart palpitations Ring LOUD
jitterbug anxiousness
Fever gut punch roll
Walls crash silhouette laugh
Through black window drawn curtain Event horizon
Monday mocking rises
5am cooler snap
Time clock stop
Moments vibrate execution
Register rings buzzzzz
Bells Thunder
Arcane madness
Face reality of self proclaimed
Exile
into the streets
Angst loaded jaw
Heavy handed
Liquid fuel lunch gasoline
Trip wire feast
Voyeurs throw craps
the last breath of life that
Escapes living tissue
As the movie bleeds into
Nothing
Without a sequel to
behold or be left waiting for
within these final
Hours
As the line blurs
Between party and
Suicide
(matthew bowers) ~93
I lit and held a candle in it’s darkness
Only to reveal the sultry image
of a soul that might have been lost,
some time ago, in the reflection of the naked mirror that stands before it
Collisions of a train,
lost thoughts marinade reality;
a poet with no pen or direction claims the night to propose thoughts
the beautiful with all the depth, and uncertainty reveal life in whispered words
Castrated tongues hang languidly on the front nail of a Social keep
“Do Not Enter… or Allow” the Earth quaked
Solely to the confused and sensitive.
“I wish I was, and Bless the Virgin”, traumas nailed me to the old worn bed of oak and pine,
Splinters chaffe and scar the wounds I my self
have allowed to bleed.
*(matthew bowers)* ~93©
Spotlights shine
Warm the
Blinding
In your eyes
Faceless
Crowds
Silent
The
Everyman
Changed
Created
THE
Scene…
Busting up rules
“First thought
Best thought”
Inspiration
Rains
Down
Like a Deity
Rolling,
Muse
Recoiling.
Parents
Hide their kids
From
Clouds
Of
Smoke
Reefer
A couple of
Bennies
Amphetamine
Rituals
Cigarettes
&
Beer
New York
And San Francisco
Taxi Drivers
Them crazies
Have more stories
Wild
Experiences
Because THEY!
They’ve seen
And been through it
ALL
Like
The fixture in the corner
Shadowed
Silhouette
Stoic Form
Not stirring
Or
Murmuring
Both
Taking it All in
And is Oblivious
To it All
The cracking
Red
Leather
Barstool
Seat cover
Home
To the raven
A crow
An owl
Perched
Parched
Thirsty
Eye witness news
Voyeur observations
For those that want
To drop a few clams
For information
“You didn’t hear it from me…
I ain’t no snitch”
Yeah
Like New York,
Long Island
Ice tea
I guess every man
Has his price
Marked up
Mirror
Jagged
Street lingo
Gangs
Girls
Nicknames
Carved deep
In glass
Lines
Leave
Scratches
Along your face
As
You stare
Absent
Vacant
Hollow skull eyes
Look back
From your
Reflection
Can you read them?
Getting ready
For the Big send-off
The christening
The Bon voyage
Smashed
Splintered
Celebration,
Suds
And foam
A Real BANG
Explosion
CHAMPAGNE
Dreams
Crash
Like the
Roaring 20s
Stock market
Falling
Jumping
From 21st floor
Opened windows
Panic
The death of an era
Silver screen dreams
Dried up with talkies
Innovation
Invention
Blacklisted
Beliefs
Or voices
Too pitchy
That didn’t cut the mustard
From 50 flicks a week
To a telephone
Coated with dust
And cobwebs
And a ringer
You try to convince yourself
Has busted…
Something’s
gotta be going on
somewhere
Just a change of scenery
Something Fresh
To unclutter your mind
Everything
Is happening too fast
You just need a break
To be awake
Dialed in
After all it’s
Friday Night Live~
(matthew bowers) ~93
© all rights reserved
Almost exactly on it’s one year anniversary, my page The Coven has officially reached a clean 1000 likes.
I had started the page to explore MagicK, build up a community, and even created a group by the same name. Then with other things coming up, projects, life, etc. I had stopped posting on the page and figured that it would virtually die of neglect.
One day I noticed that I had 3 likes in a single day some months later. And I started to pay a bit more attention, and maybe dropping a post every 2 months or so.
The Coven, I realized was growing organically growing by it’s own will. As I sat idley back I took notes, and began slowly posting to my page. There was something here.
Somewhere in those moments, I shifted gears. From writing a book of poetry The Calling- An Echo of the Howl to Something Witchy This Way Comes.
Like MagicK, my life and purpose had a new meaning, new intention, I felt myself being drawn to a new Calling. I found myself truly immersed with the mystic arts. I was learning, growing, and found myself more connected to people, places, events in history. I was transcending time and space, from the days of King Solomon to formation of neopagan witch covens just started a couple of decades ago here in California.
Coinciding almost to the very day of the formation of The Coven, I was blessed that Something Witchy This Way Comes became picked up by Dead Man’s Press Ink©.
Halloween of 2021 Is the scheduled release date of Something Witchy This Way Comes 🧹 I am both humbled and grateful to the creators of Dead Man’s Press Ink, writer, poet, and published author R. M. Englehardt, and fellow poet and artist Hex’m J’ai.
This has certainly been a truly “MagicKal” journey, and I am very much looking forward to things that are to come. Thank you all for being with me along this journey as where it takes (us) I do not know. The “echo of the calling” remains true and clear in my heart. It is a voice that sings purpose into our hearts, and gifts us with talents that we bring together so that we may create a better tomorrow for the human race and world at hand.
Thank you, Blessed be, So Mote it be, Namaste, 93
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
Join The Calling email list and receive a sample pdf of the New Something Witchy This Way Comes by *(matthew bowers)*~93
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You were wild and oh so young
I bet you think this sounds like a song
But beneath a plastic painted Maybelline smile
I could feel all of your pain
Took up the gun
Shot your self so full of holes
Anything to feel numb
As you were captured on celluloid
PoP Art masterpiece muse
Always on display
With a revolving door of distractions
The center of the evening’s soiree
Popping flashing light bulbs
Immortalizing the archetype
Slim, chic, cat-eyed model
With designer platinum hair
Going Up coming down
In that instant it was Heaven 17
Life was a Rush and a push
A millionaire dollar baby about to implode
Celebrity queen, on the scene
Television spots, and 45 mm shorts
Lured and burned like an ordinary girl
Was being loved to much to ask
The voice of a generation destroyed her child, and moved on like a rolling stone.
Destroyed and broken
The final straw drawn
To weak to recover
Or see a new dawn
Is it true?
Poor little rich girl
Lived at the shallow end
Of an empty pool?
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
My first book Something With by This Way Comes is on it’s way… This is Me as Aleister Crowley …
Just a bit of fun…
I do remember!!!!!
Loved fresh snow fall
staring out my bedroom window
into my back yard
into the field behind it
All the snow covered trees
picnic table, canoe
crowning with white brilliance….
blinding
like holy rapture…..
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
Don’t ever be an arrogant, act spoiled like that of an egg left in the sun, don’t be cruel, or self righteous for that’s the equivalent of kicking yourself in your ass. You end up shooting yourself in your own foot and invariably just doing stupid shit. Those things you speak of are “Ego” and ego driven…. They are markers of false idols. Do not “worship” false idols, yet recognize that you are god and holy.
Ego, jealousy, arrogance, those are traits of Yahweh.
Yahweh the god of the Israelites of the Talmud or the Old Testament. As we find out, and as he directly says… “I AM a Jealous god”…..
Jealously is the result of living in a lower vibrational level, at it’s root it is insecurity. “How can a god of the most high be insecure and omnipotent?” There is only one fitting answer. He is not, and that is the lie has been spread and fought over for centuries.
(… and no, Yeshua, was Not Yahweh, in figure or in purpose)
By design, we are all created as gods, brothers and sisters, energy from the universal ALL. Some with purpose, some using intent, others by happenstance recieve messages, visions, memories of our premortal existence and rights by divine enlightenment. This is nature, This Is beauty, this Is through the arts.
Being open and embracing others, that is among the true paths of godhood and Karmic excellence. Done for the true sake of others, in secret, not glorifying oneself in vanity or guilt. Empathy is the key to understanding the ALL. The key that unlocks everything when we step aside from ourselves and desires.
If you are complete, or even on the road and doing the work, recognizing the parts that others play as well as the beauty that surrounds you, you will immediately see that you “We” as individuals are Not the center of the ALL or the universe. We are but fractiles, connected to each other in very important substantial ways.
“We” are consciousnesses, We are gods, there IS no room for ego, jealousy, arrogance. We are all one. As one, and one has the same numerical value As ONE! None is greater than the other….
Lies, ignorance, and denial, prevent one from attaining the true enlightenment that is open, honest, free, and rightly there just for the taking. But blinding yourself to those truths by false doctrine and misguided self-motivation, or investing your
intent upon another takes your personal truth, spirituality, magicK away from your Own divine destiny.
So mote it be
93
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
Pent up
Inside
Thick Heavy
Black
Manifestation
72 captive
We are Legion
For we are many
We are released
And dine
On your modern
Day society
Feeding freely
From banquets
Even we
Could never have I imagined
So much pain
Hate
Deliberate cause
Divide and multiply
Across this broken land
And
We Thrive
Like Never before
It’s Open season
For souls
While our hunger
And thirst
Can Never be quenched
This is pretty
Damn Close
(matthew bowers)~93
©2021
Through the veil
Karma laughs
Five locusts crushed
Sacrificed to the gods
The emporer exposed
To be a holy joke
Clothed in transparent linen
A thousand maidens
Give way to laughter
Queens, princesses and concubines
Alike… turn their backs upon
ego
The greatest King
Became the fool
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
©2021
Prepare the night
All things seen & unseen
Restless spirits
Dance in the world’s between
Ancient magicK
Tales told so long ago
Necromancy
Of the will-o’-the-wisp’s glow
Nature Calling
Pagan child reaching out
Burning bonfire
To the song of Pan’s flute
(matthew bowers)~93
©2021
https://www.bandlab.com/revisions/33264aba-80f6-eb11-b563-a04a5e796c42
The House of Raven 🐦⬛ 