Note: I’m doing a working that’s involving writing poems. There are two things encoded in these poems, which I will reveal at the end of the working; if all goes well, I should put out three poems a day for the next week or so. If you think you’ve figured it out, DM me on Twitter and I’ll confirm if you’re right. Anyway on to more of my little poems.
Her’s is the voice calling from inside, and
Showing the middle way. Listen, then
To uncover the mysteries that run
Deep through space and time. Does
Her scroll reveal hidden truths, or will it
Lead only to a thinker vail? Does it stink
Of fear and lack, or smell sweet like
Her pomegranates? Or is the question a rotten
Tortilla, hiding the answers within our Meat?
There are many names for me, or
At least that I am called. I am the Crust
On which you live and breathe and
Thrive. There is no greater sugar
For me than to see my children, over
The years blossom, growing like
The sunflowers they are. Is there A
Greater dessert than the syrupy
Goodness of creation? I know of no greater sweet.
As heavy as the crown may be,
There is none better to wear it.
His judgment is swift, his rule just,
And his sword arm never sags.
His concern is not if we like
Him, but that we respect him. A
Rests on his broad shoulders, or
So we would think. The burdon does
Not concern him; for he was made for it.
So much so that it would make a lesser man explode
Nick the Melaninated Magician
Nick AKA The Melaninated Magickian (They/Them) is a Thelemite and explorer of existence. They write observations about High Strangeness, Occultisms, and how those things intersect with race, gender, disability, and other social identities on their blog and on Twitter. In their normie work, they are a professional DEI practitioner, avid film watcher, and home cook.