Epoch of Hope

There's a moment before it changes
When my hope is whole and bright.
The period before informational exchanges
When I anticipate with all my might.
I walk the edge of the knife
With a heart full of expectations,
With a little bit of fear for my life
And a mind full of inspirations.
I wait so impatiently, expecting, speculating.
I fear the worst and still hope for the best.
Then the phone rings and I'm hesitating.
I've made it this far; I have to have passed this test.




Hope gets crushed over and over again, but for some reason it keeps coming back.

Prosperity Spell

Tonight is the night I seal the deal;
Write the spell so it can be real.
Athame, water and salt on my altar,
I invoke the sacred spirits of Gibraltar.
Dagger in hand, I cut the basil,
And crush chamomile, sage and hazel.
Into the fire, as well as water and salt.
It all rises as smoke faster than a Renault.
This is my offering in exchange for prosperity.
And I say Blessed Be with all my sincerity.



A hopeful prayer.  Wish me luck!

Lackluster

My driving force is discontent;
A complacent poet is silent.
In happiness, my words are unspent,
Until the hush makes my pen violent.
Trickling, the awkward verse forms,
Stumbling, inorganic but necessary.
I force my hand, and it dutifully performs,
But the muse is absent, and I feel arbitrary.




The inspiration comes in waves.  I'm comfortable, which apparently means I don't need to write much.  Lies.  I'm working on remembering dreams more.  I'm hoping it will help.  Wish me luck and come visit me on the astral plane.