Tag Archives: #thecallingstore

This is 2022

Everyone’s war starts somewhereIt can be within ourselvesIt can come at us from outsideThey can try to break us downThey can try to take us overThey can try to make us one of THEM In my blood, I share your bloodI remember my grandfather’sFurry hat and long jacketNow I see their bloodMy bloodOur blood WeContinue reading “This is 2022”

Magick

There is No Room Upon My Altar

There is no room upon my altar for a Christ that gave away his life for useless intentions The scapegoat became the savior for the people of guilt Their final cries echo the release in hopes of being forgiven within deathbed confessionals Those born and raisedbeing spoon fed fear from birth blindly following corrupted manipulationContinue reading “There is No Room Upon My Altar”

Hey Jack, Where You At?

Hey Jack, Where You At? Jack? Oh Jack… His voice was smooth with heavy texture. He talked like he was lost yet knew all ’bout the world. His manner loose, noose held back with refrain, a melody of velvet sandpaper fell like rain from his lips. Shaking, making, the earth is still quaking to theContinue reading “Hey Jack, Where You At?”

Enchantress (undead)

Silver silence cascades through winter trees of elm and birch. Naked fingered branches stretch and yawn while standing erect in military grace. Softly, elegantly, she glides through the night. Dead, undead she remembers the love and pain captured in the human heart. The desire, the fire, the soft caress of a velvet touch. Centuries, memoriesContinue reading “Enchantress (undead)”

Tragedy in the Details

Tragedy in The Details Obviously UnimportantAs it doesn’t serve theself-serving withloose agendasRazors, FavoursEfforts genuinely received but never quid pro quo Time… Vision… Execution…Lost in a pseudo rhythm Self styled Outlawworking 9 to fuckin’ 5… The pen does scribbleAbstract, misspelled rants that even in this moment …I wonder if Intentional orunknowingly by default A “poets poets” thatContinue reading “Tragedy in the Details”

The Forest Through the Trees

Thoughts of mourning In the morning ColdWinter’s breathBlue lips of the divineHaunted flowersRise with mystic holinessLaughing brooks cryAnd carry grave notesAlong it’s shallow bankRed, orange, and yellow Leaves have fallenBeneath a moonlit skyThat’s drawingCobalt painted backdropOf my finalResting place *(matthew bowers)* ~93© all rights reserved

Patriarchal Heathens

This is a poem from my book Something Witchy This Way Comes Goddess worship Was the beginningWitchcraft the wayBringing life into this worldMaking needed rainfallRaising crops In dying fieldsGranting protection To soldiers of ancient warsHuman society The bond of creation The understanding Of life, death, and sacrifice Mother Gaia… Many cultures , many names…. ItContinue reading “Patriarchal Heathens”

Photograph

It is in a momentHe holds her in his handsTracing her cheekWishing moreThan he’d like to admitThat SheWere here WarmSoftVelvet smilePatchouli whispersSparkling eyes He lost himselfCaught off balanceRemoved from timeEntrancedSpellbound MagicKCapturing Him He felt AliveWhen they wereConnected SpeakingSecretRhythmicLanguage MemoriesHe hopes that theyWouldCouldShare togetherRuminated withinHis skull echoing Sunset anxietyFears of her fallingAway Unpacking boxesOf potential yesterdaysContinue reading “Photograph”

Justice Among The Stars***

Golden glitter stars line either side of HOLLYWOOD Boulevard. It was “The” Iconic walkway back in the day. I remember feeling a little more than gypped to be honest when I found out that anyone could simply purchase one of those suckers on their own, if you had the Ca$h. Still, I was fuckin’ gladContinue reading “Justice Among The Stars***”

Diamonds and Glass

Natives and amphetamine smilesA delightful topsy turvy table top tangoWhispers of desert sun run downThe length of your back Into pools ofOblivion Trailblazing riders Come from the EastChain gangs motorcycle Leather Hidden pounds of Mexican go-goCrystaline CartelSwitchblades and Friday Night Specials WatchersWatch PushersPush and Push with ViolentPowerful Perro EyesThe scent of Canine dangerThe acrid scentContinue reading “Diamonds and Glass”

Wayward Pine

Friday Night lightStreet lamp amber glowDust incognito smileFreshly driven snowUnder apple blossom sky Children wander far and nearDreams ignite fire mindsTaunting turningHaunting burning Silhouette glistenBeneath a hollow moon Moments hung as feline broodWithin Kat jaws of fate alignedMourning comes in honouringInnocence lost and blind *(Matthew bowers)* ~93©2022

2:26 am Musings on a Thursday Morning

2:26 am Musings on a Thursday morningI stopped to writeAs it comes over me Expression RepressionDevastation freedomReleasing painHumbled by self worthThat’s my calling cardI Keep in My back pocket Joy Division Synchronicity Self manifestationSkrying words from AetherTranscending desire I long to be wholeMore than vagrantWithin my skinA squatter withinThis flesh of restlessnessTo journeyTo take flightContinue reading “2:26 am Musings on a Thursday Morning”

Punk Hostage Press

If the day stopped…The earth no longer turnedThe sun could suffocateI would accept that with a BANGIn this moment Of true radiant happinessI am simply humbled knowingThat True Heros Exist Here and in the NowWithin this modern ageNeon eyes. Electric smile.Talented, Generous, Inspiring Angelic Souls and I am Thankful…To be part of such a World***ToContinue reading “Punk Hostage Press”

To Beat or Not to Beat

Ringing loud like distant thunder a fall from grace comes down from under fireflies beneath the sky glimmer glammer radio waves and neon nights. There were days on end that stretched for miles blood stains painted on lenolium tiles a hammer comes down without a sound with no remorse upon the crown. Vanity insanity theContinue reading “To Beat or Not to Beat”

Tired

Melancholy realizationsAwaken beneath blanketsOf pain, heartbreak, remorseAnd what is leftIs the tale end of a realityThat gave you comfortNever… Never existedThis whole timeLaughter of echoesHaunt youMock youYou are aloneYou were AlwaysAloneThere was NothingNo saving grace Only lies upon liesThat youYourself createdThat you were makingA differenceThatPeople ….Cared Six feet underWith machete blade lungsBreatheBreathe in the realityThatContinue reading “Tired”

If I Were Andy Warhol

If I were Andy WarholThe things that I would seeIf I were Andy Warhol All the things that we could be If I were Andy WarholCamera, paint, in handI would capture AmericaAs it Truly isAnd one day They would understand If I were Andy WarholOne day I would be seenMore than character, artist PoP cultureContinue reading “If I Were Andy Warhol”

Thank Ya Maam’

On a hard boiled Saturday nightI felt the edge of restlessness. Drawn to the neon Frolic Room sign, the locals called shotgun for the stools with the best vantage points along Loyd’s bar. Easy access, that’s what it was about. Couples in booths lined the walls, taking advantage of the shadows that hung like curtainsContinue reading “Thank Ya Maam’”

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