Mandrake

It’s finally supper time,
Our nightly ritual,
The victims are already at the trough,
But I’m missing a vital component,
The broth is incomplete,
This little mandrake,
It’s just the ticket,

This earthy fruit of foulness,
It will sent them careening into fantasy,
A final dream for the little souls,
Hallucinogens to cleanse the pallette,
Before the poison does its deed,
This heathenry,
It shall be akin to sorcery,

Into the soup you go,
Keep it quiet now,
My little botanical homunculus,
Dont reveal yourself to them,
You may appear infantile,
A parody of a child,
But you’re a monster tonight.

Witch Totem

I once dreamed of a forest,
A place I was drawn to wander,
There was a sweet perfume of witchcraft,
A fantasy,
Or a nightmare,
It was hard to tell,

Ghostly groves,
And dead branches charred by mana,
A godless arboretum,
A land bereft of deities,
Even the sun seemed timid,
Overcast through the gnarled boughs,

A witch resides here,
Or so i’ve heard,
And I believe the tales,
I spy her totems,
Omens to intruders like me,
Mandrake and hemlock,

Bones of vermin,
And dead sticks,
Affixed with aged catgut,
Into a crooked symbol,
Icons of her sorcery,
They hum with ancient words,

The sun flees,
The trees grow silent,
The atmosphere closes ranks,
I felt a cold hand on my shoulder,
And gelid breath upon my ear.

Sorcery

A hat to look the part,
A familiar for companionship,
An inferno to awe,
A hex to transfix,
A chant to bewitch.

A potion to fall in love,
A ward to soothe heartbreak,
An alchemical formula to rebuild,
A lightning bolt to annihilate,
A typhoon to punish.

A wand to focus your might,
A word of power to challenge the gods,
An enchantment for sustenance,
A bound angel for heavenly guidance,
A pact with evil for infernal privilege.

Witch, wizard or warlock,
You choose your own magic,
You choose your own brand of sorcery,
You choose your own way.