The Necromancer

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 29, 2018

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Submitted: July 29, 2018



Conjuring and stirring the already dead.

Spinning naked and baited with lead,

Sink down to the bottom with Davy Jones' men.

Fingers burning, I wake in my bed. 

Pistol in my hand, aimed at my head. 


Eyes fixed on him, I see only red.

Chanting the words pulsing through time. 

I swallow the bullet meant for mine. 


Off with his head and these golden death threads. 

Begriming this murderous, devious beast. 

Killing me inside with words left unsaid. 

I'll dine at the table and eat my own flesh 

As I wait for the Draconian Prince to punish me

And sentence me to my death-

Until this black magic brings me back

With my nails and my voice and my soul still intact.


Counting the jury and killing them fed

The hounds I love

That thrive the underground of my head.

Sacrifice this to wear the black crown of divination-

To burn the veins of the main use of the unwanted lover. 

I close my eyes and wait for the eternal slumber 

But it never comes and I dance to this dismember.


Waking, I aim for the gunner.

Claim to me the wretched and deceased,

Mending magic with my broken crows feet.

Call on thee to satisfy your hunger. 

Conjuring and stirring to speak with another. 

Saw in white by the nature of the dancer,

I call him my saviour, the necromancer-

Who brought me back to the living 

And rid me of my punisher. 

© Copyright 2018 J.M.Mason. All rights reserved.