Within
Desert winds
A myriad of lovers
A sister heir
Murdered for power
Legends
Tales
Songs
Celluloid
Bring her everlasting
Youth
She was a viper
Courageous lion
Phoenix rising
The desert jewel
Of which no other
Beauty
Could compare
Her legacy
Her travesty
She was
The Last
Pharaoh
The Throne
Of
Alexandria
Of
Egypt
Lost
To
Time
*(matthew bowers)*~93
© 2021
I’ve seen Angels come
Butterfly wings in December
Golden halos dance
Valentine eyes
Deep black pools
Of wonder, and Innocence
Is she a princess?
More than a bride
A simple glance
Can break a man
and the air is thick
full of anxious rhythem.
A low hum drums through
Palace walls of marbel
Elegant majesty, olive skin
Is she a princess?
More than a bride
Behind the cover of the veil
Her majestic thoughts hide
Subtle motion,
whispered tones
glowing embers, crossing tile
Vivaha, celebration alive
Is she’s princess?
More than a bride
For days on end,
exploding with color
a fire burns, in seven step circuit
Holding hands,
a father fades into the distance of yesterday’s shadow
From girl, to goddess
The moon cast a fragile smile
Is she a princess?
More than a bride
Agni smiles in a state of grace
Welcome home,
a new era has begun
Grihastha blanket,
familiar scents
Dharma calls for happiness
A Spiritual dance of liberation
She is a princess
More than a bride.
(matthew bowers) ~93
© all rights reserved
The Calling podcast 93
https://anchor.fm/matthew-bowers2/episodes/A-Letter-to-Ines-e157i6i
The vacant silence of voices,
no longer in the wind…
Not planting the seeds of growth and change.
Falling short of desire
the unrealized vision that longs to be shared
I feel the trembling cold numbness
being alone in this plight.
There is no echo, no howl
no answer to the calling…
An empty community bonds
with distant
and far away eyes…
(matthew bowers) ~93
© all rights reserved
Carry on in shadows and death
Silhouettes dance, long, thin, dark
Empty alley, brick, neon sign
Hunger strikes, midnight hour
Haunting, vacant, distant eyes
Roaming, corners, hunting
Velvet black, noir caress
A calling, vibration, smell of blood
Mirror, casting no reflection
Her name is danger, heathen lust
Even now, red like rose
Subtle smile from the corners rise
Canine dripping primal scream
Echo… Echo… blood drained
A howl cry beneath the moon
Empty body soulless life
Left behind on cobblestone
Again the night will rise
Feed the need to rise again…
(matthew bowers) ~93
© all rights reserved
Different gods
Same gods
Hosts
Of variant tribes
Art
Music
Sex
War
Controlling winds
And ocean’s waves
Caught in mysteries
Lost Identities
Identifying
Deity
Calamity
Idolatry
Harrowing
Journeys
Searching
For
Hidden keys
Ancient religions!
Chasing omnipotent shadows
Creation
Sensation
Questioning
Relation
From
Origins
Of
Planet Earth
To
Mother
Gaia
The maiden
The peoples
The prophets
The practices
Forgotten
Beliefs in Magick
Rituals
Mesopelagic
Deep
Deep
Below
The surface of the waves
Sacrifice
Gold
Incense
Ivory
Jade
Wooden poles
In Ashera’s name
Priests cower
Deny the power
Of creation
and
Sour
The names
Of the True Goddesses
With their own jealous intents
Vilify
Decry
Lamb’s blood
From a hanging tree
Myths
Legends
Forgotten pasts
Paths to heavens
Tarot card maps
Erased from time
With
Chisels
Paint
Murder
Fire
Removing the names
Of Queens
Pharaoh’s
Heroes
The pantheon
The wicked
Control power
Enabling rebellion
Coffers full
Belief is but gone
Their voices still carried
On the wind of the song
Secret covens
Grew
Worship the moon
Hekate
Isis
Inanna
Ishtar
Anat
Nut
Astarte
Asherah
From
Three
To Six
To Nine
To Twelve
Secret Societies
Cults
That rebel
Hundreds
Thousands
Tens of thousands
Now more
Growing in this New Age
As Strong as before
Incantations
Spells
The power
In circles
Pentagrams
Bones
Feathers
Rehearsals
Divine rights
Empower the coming
Aeons
Agape
Embracing
Becoming
One with the Earth
One with the sky
One with the water
One with the fire
The ancient is NOW
Now is then
Time
Eternity
Is one in the same
Can you feel
The whispering breeze
The Calling
The coming
The answering
The unity
Community
One voice
The same
The sisterhood bond
Together again
Reflecting
Inspired
Conjuring
Reading
Healing
Divination
Sealing
Oh goddess
The triplets
The phases of the moon
Let us gather in your name
Maiden, Mother, and Crone
Ritual, passage
The wisdom of the New age
With sisters
With glory
We embrace the change
Supernatural
Pagan
Metaphysical
Shaman
A name on paper
Intentions desire
Kept close to the heart
Thrown on to the fire
A minute
A stirring
A Sigil
Unique
Invoking Raw power
You get what you seek
Forests
Winds
Gatherings
Hypnotic dancing
Around the flames
The strength of the moon
Calling to you
Embrace light and darkness
The MagicK in you~
(matthew bowers) ~93
© all rights reserved
Things were Crazy back in the day, days blurred together, then into weeks and months…time had no definition, it just passed through us, like ghosts carried on a breeze of after thoughts… never quite tangible, or within reach. Simple echos, and shadows, and pieces of dreams, never coming into focus, or coming to fruition.
But in our own ways, we thrived, and lived out these dreams. Hollywood pirates, dressed in silk and velvet, lipstick, eyeliner, long before Captain Jack Sparrow took to the seas, we owned the city, the social music scene, with acts of debauchery, fueled by Crowley, we made sacrifices of our youth, in the name of fortune and fame. Our heads filled with images of sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll. We didn’t know it at the time, but that’s how we paid our dues….
*(matthew jamie childs)* ~93
© all rights reserved
I never could escape it
It’s rather beem my life’s mission
The curioser get curiouser
And I dive into one rabbit hole
after another
I’ve seen and experienced the most wonderful things
Things that would make you think
that I was truly mad
Colors, rhythms, alien life
Hollywood Boulevard
U.F.O.s in flight
I’ve seen spirits blow open doors
Hide away in dark fire escapes
There’s the ghost of an old stage coach, that still crosses down Sierra Bonita Avenue late nights. But I wouldn’t recommend hailing a ride….
So much time spent in darkness
I answer to the echo of my name
Strangers, costumed party goers, faceless forms cloud my head like an empty mansion weathered and falling apart at the bones.
The rabbit hole.
It’s not ugly.
It is what it is….
Questions without answers
Celebrations never meant to end.
Instant best friends
Lost in the wind
Taking personal inventory
Before rigamortis sets in
Diving so deep
Searching for so long
It can make up spiritual alchemy
Or get in your head
and haunt you for all eternity
There’s a price for knowledge
A price for awareness
A price for understanding
A price for searching
For both the Darkness
And Light
Tether your rope before you begin
Nevermind the demons
Calling you in
At that very moment
Halfway down the hole
You see your shadow
Reflect on the wall
And you then see
From beginning to the end
That it’s been you all along
You’ve always been alone
(matthew bowers) ~93
© 2021
Here we are
Before the sunrise
Dangerous games
In an eternity’s eye
Cold veins
We are like the wind
You can’t touch us
But we can touch you
Cat and mouse
You are blind prey
You can’t see us
But we can see you
Jumping off
Hillside letters
Tall
HOLLYWOODLAND
You Couldn’t remember
We’ll never forget
1923
Porcelain skin purity
Pearl necklaces
Long
Thin
Necks
Jazz
Crazy antics
It was beautiful
We were free
We are vampyres
Elegant
Once of royal blood
She danced the Charleston
Fueled by bathtub martinis
Cocaine
A true hedonist
She laughed
She glittered
She was Venus on earth
Beauty
Beyond mortal comprehension
She was Alive
Silver screen dreams
Brought choice
Starry-eyed innocence
To us in droves
Parties
Marquis
Tinsel Town reflections
Sound stage
Backstage
There was no shortage
Of our feasts
Orange fields
Paved with gold
Offerings
To the Gods
In mansions
On steep slopes
Overlooking Sunset Blvd.
Exclusive parties
Echoed through the nights
Frivolous
Unaware
This was Our time
We were the Gods
They knew our names
Drawn
To our spectral pastimes
Both
Unaware
And without a care
Ready to make sacrifice
Embrace our decadence
Lose themselves
In our embrace
Some
Joined our eternal guild
Paramores
Muse
Intellectual equals
Others
Lasted most of the night
Then
Would disappear
As fast as they appeared
Lost
Forgotten
In time
Unwanted
But
For a few short hours
They experienced sheer delight
Pure Bliss
Total escape
They were gifted
What they truly wanted inside
To BE Something
Other than mundane
To matter
To SHINE
To attain, their dreams
Intoxicated
Heddie
To succumb to the rites
Innocent vessels
Upon their release
Now
At peace
Forevermore…..
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
Inspired by a dream
A boy, a small boy
With BIG comic book ideas
Blasting through the ether
18 minutes long
1902 release
A vision upon celluloid
A Trip to the Moon
Ignites
A child’s mind a flame
Into a Raging fire
Impossible
To
Extinguish
Big Bombs, Blast, Bang, Boom
And rockets try to take off
Vrooooom!!!
To them
He is
A joke to science
A loose cannon
On the campus
At Caltech
J ust
P laying
L loudly
He’d laugh back
He pushes a button
And the gunpowder wick
Glows red, and sizzles
Slinking like snake
50 yards in length
Along the loose
Dust covered
Ground
To
A
Powder keg
Set to Blow
A Mile
HIGH
In the
SKY
…….
Camping in the desert
With tents and nitroglycerin
106-degree weather
Keeps you motivated
When the “Yes Men”
Say “No”…
They’d watch
From Up top the hill
At a safe distance
These Alphabet Agents
Making sure
There was no
Funny stuff
Going On
Or sharing intel
With the Reds
3,2,1 lift off
Get off
Spoken words
In rhythmic
MagicKal
Intent
She was
Sent
The Scarlet Woman
The Muse
Of divine glory
Well done Jack….
We won the war
We made it to the moon
And
Your dream woman
Came true
93/93
(matthew bowers) ~93
© 2021
I’ve had many a psychic Spiritual awakening Revelations The trick Is to “be” in it…. Not use it As a distraction Or “Party”…. But find yourself being aware Searching for hidden meanings Appreciating The very fabric of life itself! Knowing And understanding That in the same moment That we are part of something Much bigger than ourselves That we are greater Than the sum of all parts simultaneously ~93/93
Poets Who Really Hate Poets
That about sums it up
You are that
In your false goddess chair
Without a care
Couldn’t dare to give a shit
About something
Anyone, it would appear
Except
Yourself of course
Look at me
I’m so Witchy
Ornate silver
Pretend goth
You love words?
Or do you need them
To exercise your demons
Dr. Pimple Popper
On your back
Squeezing
The vile fake out of you
Are You real
Are You real
Wtf
I’m sure you
Like so many others
Write down your Pain
Your Trauma
Suicidal thoughts and Dogma
Then probably make it Rhyme
And call your shitty life poetry
You’ll get your attention
Your, “I feel you sisters”
Your “You’re So Strong
To have endured”
It fills your belly
So Satisfying
No more Hunger
No more Hunger
Just a Tape Worm
In Your Gut
Keeping you
At your desired weight.
You who Really Do
Hate Poets
And people
And Cautious of Kindness
You’ve hurt More fucking people
All of your life
In the False lie of justice
Because…
You Don’t Care….
Missing parts
Parts destroyed
Parts missing
Parts thrown away
Or
Just Ig~Nored
Let’s pretend
For
Just
A
Moment
That you’re Kool, not a Fool
Why wouldn’t, couldn’t you be?
Is that what makes people weak
In Your Eyes at least
Do they “Bore” you
A chore to you
As
Children hold hands
Circling
Singing
Circling
Singing
Holding hands
Around and around
Faster and Faster
Echoing
Ring a Round the Rosie
Like covered wagons
Colonizers
With Guns
And Muskets drawn
Pointed towards the middle
Making, taking AIM
At their Mark….
At the shame…
Click
Click
Click
Around
And Around
Faster
Faster
Whirlwind
Headspin
Caught in a dustbin
Children know right from wrong
Good from Evil
Pride from empathy
Children are Poets too
Poets who Really hate Poets
Well
One’s that are full of shit anyway
Ignorance is Bliss
Well
That’s what the ignorant believe
At any rate, time tells what’s up
Just give it a Beat
Poetry for Poets
Is not for the sheep
Or the Fake
The self-titled Kool
The rat inside the clique
That never wiped its shoes
“They” say…
You can judge a person
By the friends they keep
But…
Is that So?
Calling a Wolf
In sheep’s clothing
A Wolf
Is To kind
It’s a coward, an opportunist
A funky, junkie
Fall for me, see?
It’s not about transparency
A flunky, on your knees please
Do you bleed
Do you breathe
I’m not sure that you’re human
Prove it to me
I’m bored
You want to be adored
Be fake
Rattlesnake
False fangs
No poison
Fake rattle in place
Slither, Slither
Wither away
You may Be dark
But that Darkness is within you
You, may even realize
In time
That You ARE The Magnet
That drew all of the whack
Fucked Up Shit to yourself
Abusive relationships
One after another
Time
And
Time again
It’s a cycle
And you don’t realize
This is taught
Comes down
From generations
And you heal, you deal
Try to appeal
For momentary affection
You just kick to the curb
The shit you write and read
We’re Not Your therapy
You Really have No place to be
Except
In the shadows that you design
To keep the True world at bay
Is That happiness?
…Of sorts…
If you settle…
Build a shelter from trash
Be arrogant and brash
Be something that your Not
That’s sad, not Saying a lot
Well…
To Be?
Or
Not to Be…
I don’t think, you’ll ever truly Know
Being that you Are…
A “Poet” who really hates poets
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
She was more
Than
THAT
She was more
Than divine
The cruelness
Of the world
She Knew
At
The tender
Age
Of
Six
“Don’t take candy from strangers”
Or
“Creepy old neighbors that leer”
Men
Rarely have good intentions
And I?
Am ashamed
I’m as guilty of being a man
As I am of being “White”
People will see me
Think what they will
I have No control over that
In her eyes
I Still see the innocence
The Fire
The adventure
Of a child
Someone’s daughter
That
Was
And
Will
Always be
BOLD
&
STRONG
Not a ‘victim’ of cancel culture
Not out for revenge
Or retribution
Or reparations
She was elegance
Poise
The Perfect movie star
She Shines brighter today
Than ever before
If Hollywood had “A” star…
You could guide your ship
Across the ocean
As she winks
From Celestial heavens
Now
Home
(matthew bowers) ~93
© 2021
As Jim lie there, stage cold, lights
Turned ON. But not him. Sweat.
Leather. Dying breath. He felt the wine, dying on the vine… recognized the Indians, and the smell of antifreeze. With the breath of an angel, he heard the voice, There Are No Partners, Friends, or bruthas….
In this world, like all worlds
You are alone…
Atone for that
Pay for your belief in kindness
He lie, without a voice, as do I
Silent evermore… ✍
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
The last howl
Has left my bones
No hunger
No thirst
No vision of morrow
The rapture isn’t coming
This is here and now
No ShangriLa
No Nirvana
No Heaven
No Hell
Maybe the
Lawlessness
Of purgatory
An eternity of time
To reflect
And be
Without decay
Just see
All of the wretchedness
That there has always been
That you wear
As both understanding
And warmth
You get it….
It’s never been about Karma
Or Dogma, or Rites
Mass graves dug
And buried with the foolish
That allowed themselves
To have hope
Belief
Some thought that they
Would be delivered
Away from it all
Free
Who took the path
Of Sylvia Plath
Who was next on
Anne Nexton’s way
I felt the Howl
Of Virginia Woolf
There was no comfort
For Nicholas Chamfort
Why do I hear
Their chorus of cries
Reverberating within my skull
No amount of Tylenol
No Klonopin or Morphine
Is going to be the great release
Escape from this mental pain
Like a frikkin’ cromagnan man
I left messages on the walls
Hand prints in blood
That spell out my name
I never flew like the cuckoo
Never had a nest
Never got rest
Liquid time stops for no one
Only the lucky
Get to watch it change colors
As the brook becomes the sea
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
The silence within an angels embrace, holds the warmth of a child not afraid to smile and laugh. The thoughts of two across the ocean, stir the heart’s intention of a smiling God.
The wind begins to hustle and raise the tides and waves …
The voyage starts … sooner than she realizes… will she be afraid? He stands on the pier of an ocean, soaked with salt and barnacles. He waits, listens and loves.
Gothic dreams
Shadow visions
Black thoughts
Taboo beliefs
Exercised with supernatural guile
Hoodoo… Voodoo
Magick
Wiccan hearts
Stories from the damned
Ancient myths of jinn
Open gates of Hades
Lost in Lothlórie
Romancing the macabre
Dancing twilight rites
Summoning Aiwass
Candles burn
And flicker
Casting shadows
Against the wall
Throwing runes
Reading tarot
Thelemic roots
Before the Dawn
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
Atomic Age Renaissance
Color spread across the nations
Dust bin empty sepia fields
Upon the Golden Road
Towards Emerald City
JK, NC, WSB, GC & AG
Set out with the intentions
To wake a sleeping world Up
Bam Bing Boom
Backyard BBQ’s
Held over Nuclear War shelters
Miles below paper people feet
Tragic Teens in Turmoiled Times
Take Truth, Trauma in Television lies
The status quo had to go
The lies devised meant to hypnotize
Another generation into false security
Accepting their mundane positions
Where no one asks questions
Dinners done by five
The lawn is manicured
To exactly two and a half inches in height
White picket fences
Father Knows Best
Bringing home the Bacon
While mom hangs the laundry out to dry
College campuses buzz
With electric thoughts
New realizations
New Dreams of what could be’s
Who were these voices
Poetry, Spoken Word, Marijuana
Coffee, Late Night Scenes
Benny’s, Experimentation with LSD
This Epoch of time
Would herald in New Ages
Rolling, one into another….
Men in Suits
Lenny Bruce
Doing time, speaking his mind
One of a kind, the Old Hats so blind
It was his comedy
His own sense of rhyme
That the underbelly, of the current establishment was ready to change
Five candidates banging drums
Of lyrical words, spoken
In the language of Jazz and felt Blues
They brought the Beat
To a hungry generation
Resistance, persistence,
To finally acceptance…
From cold concrete jail cells
To Maynard G. Kreb
Finally giving air time
To a moment they just couldn’t stop
Back on The Road
Or hearing the Call of the Howl
Sitting on your porch, alone
Enjoying your Naked Lunch
I realize with pain in my eyes
It’s been More than Decades
Since anyone has kept that vision
Alive
Put down a marker
A headstone Say a prayer
Can society still feel magicK
That was once shared
Is it too late?
Tik Tok time out of hand?
Does anyone else “feel it”
Does anyone “else” care?
It’s a shame, forget the blame
Don’t bother with questions
The answer’s always the same
We first move on
Start a movement for change
Movement is action
With “move” in it
Learn from the past
Don’t fall for foils
Unite and share a vision
Manifest these works with intent
Do you dream
Do you feel
That you are meant to be
Apart of a cause
An action of Something
As the four horsemen call
Gabriel’s horn blows
The time is nigh
The coming forlorn
If not take up Arms
And herald the cause
With pens, paper, voices of the muse
We must fight extinction
Systematic Abuse
And rise Shine
Electric Neon
And rhyme
Be artists, poets, authors
Painters, sculptures by design
Believe
We are free
From Dark tyranny
Four years of hell
Under a spell
A failed nation reacts
Zombies protect lies
Hopefully, it’s not too late
To Enlighten the closed minds
The lemmings of man
The cost of their souls
They won’t take us down with them…
We can not be sold
Ready, Aim, Fire!!!
With your pen be swift and sure
May Apollo assist you
To the eye of the target
One down
Two down
There’s fire in the streets
There’s massacres in Chicago
Los Angeles, New York
Florida’s died
It’s falling away
Dropping straight off of the continent
Texas is Next
I “See”
You “See”
Together
It
Shall Be
We are one
Many voices together
A collective purpose
A Gnostic order
Secrets, Our Secrets
Changing the world
A universal purpose
And it’s language of the stars
Be true
Be humble
Honest
Whole
This is OUR Journey
The challenge
And goal
(matthew bowers) ~93
© 2021
– It’s in between The Calling-
What scene
It’s Has Been
It’s In-between
The Calling
Time for Change
I lost myself
At the bottom of a bottle
But there I was
Staring back
I recognized those eyes
That wild crazy smile, Dig?
I’ve Been Down
Around
Feeling the scene…
Memories of ghost bars
Haunting me from afar
Too long ago
But I still wear them scars
I can show you
I can show you
I can show you
I Howl with amazement
I got to pick up the pace
I got a second Chance
Can you fuckin’ believe it
This Mortal coil
This Human toil
We got to set some Shit
On FIRE
CREATE THE DREAM
Begin Again… And Screeeeam!!!
Ignite Neon Lights
City Lights
Across the country
I realize it’s TIME
From New York City
To San Fransisco
Walking to the Beat
We are the Rebels
On the Go
We can’t Slow
Can’t say NO
Spread the WORD
Cuz So FEW Have Heard
I May NOT Have long
But I’m going to give my All
So precious Is life
I Only wish I had Known
Maybe I wouldn’t
Have Drowned myself
For secret Reasons
Only I truly knew
My fuckin’ friends…
Whew, didn’t even Know
I Had a daughter
I didn’t watch grow
But… I changed the WORLD
For a time at least
Artists, poets, sculptors
Before the HIPPIES
No… Not My Kind
Fuuuck that Shit
Look at You Allen
You being such a hit
Second CHANCE is Now!!!
Let’s get It Right
Get back to Brass Tacks
The POWER
Is in what we Write
Broadsides
Online Journals
Home Page post shares
Independent Publishing
Chapbooks
And guillotines
We Got to get the Word Back OUT
I GOT This vessel
I’m-ma gonna call Home
For
A while
At Least til we can get SHIT Done
Things Need Potency
Reality
The sky is cloudy
Societies SICK
NEEDS Antibodies
Cure The Ills
Of what the Fuck is Going On
It’s like Living Hell
A kick in the groin
It’s Comin’ together
Oh Man, can you FEEL IT
The People want Change
But Don’t know how to Ask
Well, That’s Alll right
We Got a plan
It’s Comin’ together
Through Merritt the Man!
He’s been so kind
To Let me reside
(Rent Free)
If you can believe…
Our “Vision”
Is starting
It’s Going to ROAR
All of a sudden
And
THAT’s
WHAT
WE
NEED
IT’s
The Name of the Game
You see…
First Thought
Best Thought
Forever more……
Got’s to start sometime
And That time
Is Now
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
It’s a dangerous game
Russian Roulette
With pen and paper
Committing suicide
With a note
Drafted to the gods
Depression
Repression
Too high of an expectation
People, humans
Will always let you down
As you look to the shadows
For answers
Perhaps hope?
The frequency resonating
Is “make yourself scarce”
You’re invisible in their minds
Out of touch
In what they believe
This world wasn’t meant for you
Now
Take a breath
And let That sink in
Horrible monsters
Snake oil salesmen
Repo-men of souls
Out to get yours
Bargain bin lives
Cruel jokes and lies
Heddie Tempest Uniform
All the better to disguise
Their intentions
Did you believe in the Sun God
Monotheistic spiritual revolution
Did you take
The power away
From the priests and the fools
I walk across Broadway Blvd
It parts like the red sea
All the homeless
beggars
and junkies
Staring through me
I wear a sign on my back
KICK ME WHEN I’M DOWN
Folks come from miles around
To get their two cents in
Florence Nightingale
Jeanne d’Arc
Marie Curie
Cyprian
All kissed by Judas lips
Hailing a taxi back to Echo Park
There’s no sense in the violence
Or the word’s never spoken
Like a tree bearing strange fruit
I swing in the breeze
The laughter at loyalty
The christening of other’s sins
Dreams and Rules
We’re meant to be broken
It’s the comedy and drama within
I basked in the glory of loneliness
I’ve held ritual in it’s delight
The people
The shadows
Are best from a distance
Behind closed doors
I can no longer let you in
There’s pain from experience
Fools justify the means
As long as it’s at my expense
Their record remains clean
As the town crier
Rather, Longfellow’s muse
Celebrating madness
Self imposed abuse
The house of cards I’ve erected
Crumbles down
From generations
Of built up karma
If you can believe…
Slipping
In between the cracks
Of the sidewalk
Spat on each day
Trash accumulating psyche
Reaching hallowed chambers
Of the end
As ravens fly
As the blood moon will rise
There’s a Calling
At the end
Of That rope
The one
That whispers my name
(matthew bowers) ~93
© 2021
As Jim lie there, stage cold, lights
Turned ON. But not him. Sweat.
Leather. Dying breath. He felt the wine, dying on the vine… recognized the Indians, and the smell of antifreeze. With the breath of an angel, he heard the voice, There Are No Partners, Friends, or bruthas….
In this world, like all worlds
You are alone…
Atone for that
Pay for your belief in kindness
He lie, without a voice, as do I
Silent evermore… ✍
(matthew bowers) ~93
©2021
Old Time Classic
Radio Shows
Families gathered
Together
Around Sacred Fire
Before Television
Creating Visions
From flames of
Imagination
Inspired
From
Eerie Stories
Macabre Mysteries
Comedy and Drama
Aliens
From another universe
Dim the Light
Tune the dial
Relax
And
Get carried away…
The frequency
The airwaves
Ignite
And
Entertain
Connecting
The world
Through Soaps
Commercials
Teeth Whiteners
And
Creams
(matthew bowers) ~93
© 2021
All good things come to an end
Standing on the edge of the precipice
Looking down into the void
Of creative oblivion
Too close
Distracted contemplation
Is a dangerous venture
Lose your sight
Lose your footing
It’s a long way for where
You intended to be
Once you start to fall
There is no stopping
Faster
Faster still
No slowing
Or coming back
From a misstep
Upon
The slippery slope
(matthew bowers) ~93
© 2021
,#ThreeWhiteHorses,#TheCalling93,#TheCalling,#matthewbowers93,#music,#youtube,#video
Style, smile
Mischief
Wiles
behind
those crazy
twinkling eyes
Scruff,
wolf grin
Typewriter echos
Banging like thunder
across
a humid,
steamy room,
Off
stained wallpaper,
curtains drawn,
ceiling fan shadows
like Don Quixote
Dried, righteous brain
Society is a drag man…
Repression
Succession
Recession
Depression
Depletion
Repeat son
The reason, so many fools
Line up and take charge
Paving the way with
Billboards and skylights
Marching along blindly
Dropping like lemmings
Crashing in the surf
Below the precipice
Pied piper
Rod Steiger
On the Water Front
One nighter
The Ides of March
Desensitized
Pay the debt
Sacrificed
The hustle
Rent
First full moon
Black tar
Red balloons
Empty
Room
With
Burnt
Spoons
Candle wax
Dripping
Blues
“And so I have remained… an abomination to all but those few people who have overcome their aversion to truth in order to free whatever is good in them.”
Louise Brooks
Louise Brooks
The sidewalk’s familiar
Just passing through
Echo Park
Los Angeles
I’ve been living here
For the better part
Of 30 years or so
The air is warm
And balmy
But not too hot
Never too cold
The streets aren’t as busy
As I remember them
Sunset’s always been famous
For it’s Halloween Parade
That’s WEST Hollywood
This is something… different
Everyone wearing masks
Not trying to scare each other
But… Just as spooky
I felt someone brush by me
My flesh stood at attention
Something whispered in my ear
Hank drank here…
I look up from the concrete floor
Just where was I again
Lost in my thoughts?
Awakened by a foreign sensation
Bringing me back to the Now!
There was something familiar
Caught in a loop, a rerun in time
Again… Louder this time…
Hank DRANK Here…
I wiped the sweat from my brow
I was in the present
Echos from the past
Memories that never last
A leather covered bar stool
Another game of pocket pool
Another round
Another round
A shot of tequila to wash it down
In my head
I heard these things
Experienced these things
I felt “mad”!
Hallucinating
HANK DRANK HERE…
More than a whisper this time
I felt cold in California July
What was happening and why?
The door burst open
There was a flood of stale A.C
The air tasted off
Like decades old beer
Memories of cigarettes
1558 W Sunset Blvd
Home of long nights
Great writes
Ghosts of women and drunks
A thousand stories never sung
If you lived down the street
You never Knew
Who you would meet
Or
Who, you just may run into
Hank Drank here……
I heard a final time
Understanding now
What came upon my mind
Hank, Chuck, Charles…
This was a Bukowski haunt
So many nights
So many escapes
So many women
So many drinks
So many drinks…..
I met a ghost today
And That memory won’t go away
A hero, a poet, a writer, The Boxer
The American Classic himself
In his own way
Shared “spirits” with me…
With Me???
More than a haunting
More than a true ghost story
More than what I can explain
Charles Bukowski was mythical
Legions of fans around the world
A Superhero, Self Loathing Soul
That shared stories of life
Stories of love
Stories of Pain
Stories of laughter
Hank drank here….
I nodded my head, in respect
Took these photos…
Of The Gold Room
1558 W Sunset Blvd
Hank drank here….
Thank you for the poster Art!
Designed by Jack Varnell
#Poet, #Artist, #friend
Goddess worship
Was the beginning
Witchcraft the way
Bringing life into this world
Making needed rain fall
Raising crops
In dying fields
Granting protection to soldiers
Of ancient wars
Human society
The bond of creation
The understanding
Of life, death, and sacrifice
Mother Gaia…
Many cultures , many names….
It hits me now, even as I type this That the garden of Eden
Was the Archetype of image
Of
The Earthly goddess…
But the father’s of the church “Religion”
Not spirituality motivated
Mind you
But control…
They stripped her name
Her identity of her true power
And position
That should rightly have been Recorded for posterity’s sake
But the patriarch heathens
Could not allow their ego
To obey
To follow
Or worship goddesses
And women alike….
The men became priests,
And priests backed the lord’s,
And the lord’s backed the priests…. Dismantling the power and purpose Of the feminine right.
They needed the Control,
Power,
Money,
Land,
And with their reptile minds
Came the abuse
Over all that they had control over,
And what they didn’t
They killed
Destroyed….
Time and time again
Throughout history
Unto this day
The conditioning stays
The same
Whether it be
Wall Street
White House
Army
Or the Vatican….
It’s religious power
And abuse
From every level…..
So Mote It Be
~93
Lunacy is a blessing
All to often overlooked
It is the key that unlocks shadows
Its the pages within a book
Lunacy is brilliance
The pull of the ocean’s tide
A raven’s claw in the wilderness
Where dreams are born, live and die
Lunacy is the voice
That the blind cannot see
With heavy breath in winter’s air
It’s the call of sisters three
Lunacy is freedom
The vision not defined
In hallowed halls upon the walls
Are the secrets of ancient scribes
Lunacy is a garden
Filled with flowers, fruit and sin
It’s the magicK within nature’s heart
The Goddess smiling
Lunacy is the journey
The land of mercury soaked skin
The dream inside a fever
The Hatters voice from within
Lunacy is the poet’s voice
The divine comedy of pain and death
It’s the gift of once remembered
It’s the hell of Devil’s breath
Lunacy is a voyeur
Cues taken from the muse
It’s the road that is less traveled
Nothing to fear nothing to lose
Lunacy is my banquet
From which I freely dine
Creating words of alchemy
From whence the soul doth shine
A voice
A calling
A familiar stranger
Exiting the woods
Entering the light
I see my reflection
As a ghost
I haunt myself
There was no echo
Only blinders from within
Forced abstanance
Eyes and toungue
Removed by vicious bird
The result….
Of reaching out
Calling my name
In public domain
I was forced
Into… Exile.
Cryptic words
A message sent
To the Heart
A message of sorrow
An explanation
Of distant
Non existent
Words….
I must remain
In the shadows
Within the tangled thicket
News paper headlines
Blurred
And bled
Misunderstanding
What was read…
Living in suspicion
Every letter
Every word
The public Eye
Can Spy
And
Torture these
Bleached
Weathered Bones
So mote it be…
*(matthew bowers) ~93
Coltrane
It’s more than
A thang
It’s
Electric blue
Poetic review
Blistering Sunset
Time won’t
Forget
Hot
Liquid
Heat
Flowing
Through our
Veins
Bennies
Nights Up
Weeks
At a time
Longing
Loving
Listening
Learning
Neon waltzes
45s
LPs
EPs
Spinning rhyme
I improvise
From thirst
And
From
Lies
Dormant
Determined
Destruction
Destitute will
Fever pitched
Valarium
Social Stadium
Outstreched
Arms
Welcome
Pain
And Rain
Disconnected
Residences
Driven
Insane
I Fall
I Call
No longer
Alone
Coltrane
In
My Brain
My Valium
Soothes
My
Soul
(matthew bowers) ~93
©20021
Glam
Slam
Telegram Sam
Glitter
Congos
Tryranasaurus beat
Black lion’s mane
Graced by Major Tom
Silver jumpsuit
Platform boots
Shooting star
Cosmic dancer
The youth hypnotized
By his animal grace
Dalai lama rock-‘n’-roll
Electric guitar dreams cried
Another shooting star lost
Captured, frozen in time
Prophets, Seers and Sages
The Angels of the sages
T-Rex
Car wrecks
Near Gipsy lane
A fortune teller of his own regard
As a child he had known
As a child he had grown
Into an interstellar PoP machine
That’s when curtains would close
Behind the wheel of stardust
On destiny’s tragic road
(matthew bowers) ~93
© 2021
There is no room upon my alter for a Christ that gave away his life for useless intentions. The scapegoat became the savior of the people of guilt. Their final cries echo the release in hopes of being forgiven within deathbed confessionals. Those born and raised, being spoonfed fear from birth follow blindly the corrupted manipulation of a Holy word. The martyrdom of the magician. The sacrifice of a rebel. The holder of gnosis. He was betrayed. He did not die for my sins, as sin is in the eye of the beholder. Do what thou wilt! Love is the law! Love is the law, love under will! My candles burn and drip with freedom, my incense burns with personal accountability. My amethyst stones reflect eternity, strength, and my awareness of self-realization. Runes of bone, reveal more than fortune, but the intent and desire of the universe. On my alter I offer truth. I prepare and manifest intentions of welcoming Shangri-la. The Black Star turns, the dark rapture spurns, false gratitude’s with secret mnumonic devices. Meditation, contemplation, isolation, alone I make my daily offerings. And here in this moment, I reflect upon a man, a myth, magician, and martyr. To die for a Holy cause dreamt up centuries later to control masses at masses, for power, land, and gold… This is the lie believers have fallen for, heaven of purity, freewill, sanctuary, and peace.
These are the materials, the secret ingredients of magicK, alchemy, the craft. My alter is a reflection, an extension of myself. Here I worship at my inner temple, my inner ark of my covenants, within my Eye of Horus. Magick is and has been eternal. Like the force of gravity undefined by science.
Blessed be.
So mote it be.
Namaste.
~93
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
©2021
Check this out on #BandLab https://www.bandlab.com/post/882989f8-97ac-eb11-85aa-0050f28a50ba
Crude oil bursts free
From the naked barren Landscape
Cacti and eagles
Hold the range
A few hundred miles wide
High noon Sun blares down
Upon clay and rock
There’s no escape
From it’s omnipotent presence
Snakes, and lizards
Lie dormant
Within shadow havens
Skin shines like velvet mirrors
Drowning waterfalls
Cascade
Down
Muscular
Cut
Full square back
The dust of the land
Filling every pore
Oil stained eyes
“She’s a gusher”
He laughs
Intoxicated
Excited
Like reeling in
A two ton salmon
A gift from the gods
Rains down upon him
Black gold smile
His boots brimming
Overflowing liquid
Bullion
Ebony
Thick
Constant
Monolithic cries
Scream from heavy pressure
Iron giants pummel down
Deep into Gaia’s side
Up
Down
Up
Down
Phallic repetition
Ancient fossil juice
Jettison
Miles into the sky
Hemorrhaging a wealth
Too rich to conceive
Instant billionaires
Made in a single moment
Blond hair soaked grease black
Hallelujah
Eureka
He’s been Prayin’ for a score
Fourteen hour shifts
Burning days
Freezing nights
Cigarettes
Coffee
Beer
The diet of man
That no longer cares
That has nothing to lose
Nothing to share
But
Fills his empty soul with hope
Strike it RICH
Make it BIG
In his dreams
Long white stretch limousines
Cigars smuggled
Illegal from overseas
Mansions
As far as the eye can see
His ship’s come in
It’s been four damn years
In solitude
Finding comfort in his
Own
Reflection
Weeks blurred into months
The monotony of nothingness
Slowly
His mind gone mad
Talking to coyotes
Feral calls
Blood thirsty cries
Reverberating
Echoing
Within
His
SKULL
*(matthew bowers)* ~93
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The House of Raven 🐦⬛ 