There is a time when a witch’s work is done.
By: C.S. Freeman
There is a time when a witch’s work is done.
When the leaves have all fallen and the wind slows to a stop.
A time when the cats away from the home.
And when the fog sets in just enough to make the outside a white mist of nothing.
At this time a witch can rest, relax and warm by the fire.
For the witch can break some bread and converse with an old friend.
He will ask what has changed over the years.
And what needs to be changed as well.
He will offer to help the witch move the season along to gain more.
But the last time he moved the seasons, that forgotten season still haunts her thoughts at times.
But the witch know the he or she has nothing more to give.
Nothing more to take away from others.
Or nothing more to learn.
A witch can’t stop playing a game in his or her own mind.
A game where life is no longer life.
Where time is no longer time.
And knowledge is no longer needed.
The goddess have stopped giving her a hand.
And the gods have left with a fallen forgotten season of times.
A witch has unlimited power over all the elements that make your world move round.
She could stop the seas from moving.
The moon and sun from shining.
She could make the animals move in, along with the plants and winds.
She could wreck cities, homes, lives and more.
She could pull demons from trees and babies from flowers.
She could drag men to their deaths,
And women to their breaking point.
A witch could take the world for her own if he or she pleased.
But in a world where men are more scared of what hides in the grinning teeth of a business man.
Then what destroys the oceans, the sky or the woods.
A witch has no true power.
For power comes from the eyes of the beholder.
And when a witch is at work he or she makes the beholder see what truly is there.
She can make a tree turn green, or the sky run red.
She can make the moon consume the earth, or the oceans dry up.
A witch can rest when she is at peace with the trees,
When she can peacefully talk with the birds or move mountains with the wind.
A witch can rest when the leaves turn colors and the sugar runs from the trees.
The leaves will fall.
The trees will sleep the season away.
The animals sleep there worries away,
And the bids will fly south into the warmth.
A witch can rest when the stars align,
And the seasons allow the thought.
A witch can rest when all the books are stacked neat on the shelves.
And when all the jars are full of magical herbs.
When the cauldron has been scrubbed and the cat has been washed.
When the floor has been swept and the draft taken care of.
A witch can rest when the tarot allows it.
When the crystals are cleansed, and full of power.
A witch can rest when a witch’s work is done.
By: C.S. Freeman
There is a time when a witch’s work is done.
When the leaves have all fallen and the wind slows to a stop.
A time when the cats away from the home.
And when the fog sets in just enough to make the outside a white mist of nothing.
At this time a witch can rest, relax and warm by the fire.
For the witch can break some bread and converse with an old friend.
He will ask what has changed over the years.
And what needs to be changed as well.
He will offer to help the witch move the season along to gain more.
But the last time he moved the seasons, that forgotten season still haunts her thoughts at times.
But the witch know the he or she has nothing more to give.
Nothing more to take away from others.
Or nothing more to learn.
A witch can’t stop playing a game in his or her own mind.
A game where life is no longer life.
Where time is no longer time.
And knowledge is no longer needed.
The goddess have stopped giving her a hand.
And the gods have left with a fallen forgotten season of times.
A witch has unlimited power over all the elements that make your world move round.
She could stop the seas from moving.
The moon and sun from shining.
She could make the animals move in, along with the plants and winds.
She could wreck cities, homes, lives and more.
She could pull demons from trees and babies from flowers.
She could drag men to their deaths,
And women to their breaking point.
A witch could take the world for her own if he or she pleased.
But in a world where men are more scared of what hides in the grinning teeth of a business man.
Then what destroys the oceans, the sky or the woods.
A witch has no true power.
For power comes from the eyes of the beholder.
And when a witch is at work he or she makes the beholder see what truly is there.
She can make a tree turn green, or the sky run red.
She can make the moon consume the earth, or the oceans dry up.
A witch can rest when she is at peace with the trees,
When she can peacefully talk with the birds or move mountains with the wind.
A witch can rest when the leaves turn colors and the sugar runs from the trees.
The leaves will fall.
The trees will sleep the season away.
The animals sleep there worries away,
And the bids will fly south into the warmth.
A witch can rest when the stars align,
And the seasons allow the thought.
A witch can rest when all the books are stacked neat on the shelves.
And when all the jars are full of magical herbs.
When the cauldron has been scrubbed and the cat has been washed.
When the floor has been swept and the draft taken care of.
A witch can rest when the tarot allows it.
When the crystals are cleansed, and full of power.
A witch can rest when a witch’s work is done.
In the Name of Love
By: C.S. Freeman
There was always something that drew me to the other side of love.
Something that made my heart beat faster, and my face to turn red and warm.
I met him at the bar yesterday.
“Should I call him tonight?”
I am more lonely tonight that I usually am…
He was cunning, pale, slim and sly.
Wow, I don’t remember him being so forward yesterday.
Was he like this yesterday?
Was I more drunk than I thought I was?
When he spoke, it was like the moon was touching my heart.
He came to me late one night wanting to see me in a different light.
I almost left the bar until I saw him walk in.
I wasn’t going to get lucky tonight anyway from the guys in this bar,
So, I might as well go home and sleep alone again.
His eyes drilled into my soul and his lips drew me in,
So, I let him in without a fight.
We both know why I called him tonight,
He was more ready then I thought I was.
We sat down at my kitchen table and he pulled out a dark bottle from his black overcoat.
He offered me a drink and I didn’t protest.
The drink was affable?
Comforting even?
It was thicker than anything I’ve swallowed before.
It slowly made its way down my throat and the metallic taste hit me like a wrecking ball.
He smiled at me from across the table and asked if I enjoyed the drink.
“Yes?”
I was not sure what I thought of it at first, but then I asked for another.
He didn’t pull the bottle back out from his overcoat, but instead took it off.
He then moved closer to me, but he didn’t use his feet to move.
It was like he was floating over to my side of the room.
He took me by the waist, and we went upstairs.
I was lost in his eyes and I knew he was going to have his way tonight.
I of course was going to let him.
I called him, and I let him in.
But without me knowing then, I was going to change in more ways than one tonight.
He again asked if I liked the drink, he offered me earlier.
“I don’t know if I should.”
He smiled at my answer. And then told me what it was I drank.
Blood.
I then noticed that his teeth and lips were stained red.
I had then a decision to make.
To drink more.
Or make him leave.
He offered it to me fresh, from the tap sort-to-say.
But that was not why I called him over tonight.
To drink blood, but to change from a stainless boy into a sordid man.
Man and Boy to Man and Man.
I have come to my conclusions.
To be him,
In more than one way.
I let him touch me in ways no one else ever has.
And I let myself do the same to him.
He put out his arm and pulled a knife from his boot.
He cut his arm and told me the consequences that will follow what I am going to do.
I knew I had changed tonight.
And I changed in a way I never thought I would.
We finished our play,
And I watched him doze off into a land of fresh blood and boys.
I knew what my mission truly was for tonight.
I waited until I knew he was deep asleep and grabbed the stake beside my bed.
I kissed his warm red lips one last time.
And I drove the stake through his heart.
He woke in a panic of pain, blood and betrayal.
I looked him in the eyes and knew he believed this was going to end another way.
But in a world where Dog eat Dog and Man must beat beast.
It’s no different for monsters like me.
Kill to get ahead.
I took his wallet, kissed him one last time.
And made my way to another town.
Where I will do this all over again.
Again, and again.
All in the name of love.
And blood.
By: C.S. Freeman
There was always something that drew me to the other side of love.
Something that made my heart beat faster, and my face to turn red and warm.
I met him at the bar yesterday.
“Should I call him tonight?”
I am more lonely tonight that I usually am…
He was cunning, pale, slim and sly.
Wow, I don’t remember him being so forward yesterday.
Was he like this yesterday?
Was I more drunk than I thought I was?
When he spoke, it was like the moon was touching my heart.
He came to me late one night wanting to see me in a different light.
I almost left the bar until I saw him walk in.
I wasn’t going to get lucky tonight anyway from the guys in this bar,
So, I might as well go home and sleep alone again.
His eyes drilled into my soul and his lips drew me in,
So, I let him in without a fight.
We both know why I called him tonight,
He was more ready then I thought I was.
We sat down at my kitchen table and he pulled out a dark bottle from his black overcoat.
He offered me a drink and I didn’t protest.
The drink was affable?
Comforting even?
It was thicker than anything I’ve swallowed before.
It slowly made its way down my throat and the metallic taste hit me like a wrecking ball.
He smiled at me from across the table and asked if I enjoyed the drink.
“Yes?”
I was not sure what I thought of it at first, but then I asked for another.
He didn’t pull the bottle back out from his overcoat, but instead took it off.
He then moved closer to me, but he didn’t use his feet to move.
It was like he was floating over to my side of the room.
He took me by the waist, and we went upstairs.
I was lost in his eyes and I knew he was going to have his way tonight.
I of course was going to let him.
I called him, and I let him in.
But without me knowing then, I was going to change in more ways than one tonight.
He again asked if I liked the drink, he offered me earlier.
“I don’t know if I should.”
He smiled at my answer. And then told me what it was I drank.
Blood.
I then noticed that his teeth and lips were stained red.
I had then a decision to make.
To drink more.
Or make him leave.
He offered it to me fresh, from the tap sort-to-say.
But that was not why I called him over tonight.
To drink blood, but to change from a stainless boy into a sordid man.
Man and Boy to Man and Man.
I have come to my conclusions.
To be him,
In more than one way.
I let him touch me in ways no one else ever has.
And I let myself do the same to him.
He put out his arm and pulled a knife from his boot.
He cut his arm and told me the consequences that will follow what I am going to do.
I knew I had changed tonight.
And I changed in a way I never thought I would.
We finished our play,
And I watched him doze off into a land of fresh blood and boys.
I knew what my mission truly was for tonight.
I waited until I knew he was deep asleep and grabbed the stake beside my bed.
I kissed his warm red lips one last time.
And I drove the stake through his heart.
He woke in a panic of pain, blood and betrayal.
I looked him in the eyes and knew he believed this was going to end another way.
But in a world where Dog eat Dog and Man must beat beast.
It’s no different for monsters like me.
Kill to get ahead.
I took his wallet, kissed him one last time.
And made my way to another town.
Where I will do this all over again.
Again, and again.
All in the name of love.
And blood.