Free Verse
Prayer to Mammon to bring money to someone in poverty
Mammon, demon of wealth, I ask you to bring money and wealth to those living in poverty. I ask you to bring all that they need to be able to care for themselves. Please help them and guide them to find work if they can work, and if they can not please help tem to get some assistance from the government or someone they know and love that an help them.
By Danielle Mosley6 months ago in Poets
Prayer to Behemoth to bring good luck to someone
Behemoth, demon of luck, I ask you to bring good luck to those in need. I ask you to bring love, joy, happiness, and friendship into the lives of mankind. Please take away all mankinds bad luck and bring to them good luck. Please bless all people with all they need in life. Please bring luck of wealth and money into people's lives.
By Danielle Mosley6 months ago in Poets
Prayer to Baal
Baal, demon of the earth, I honor you in thought, word and deed. I ask you to please protect all mankind. Remind all demonolatrist to treat all people with love and respect. Help us realize we are all equal na matter our religious beliefs and backgrounds. Please grant all mankind wisdom, strength, and joy. I ask you to come into the hearts of those who are hurting and heal them from their agony and suffering.
By Danielle Mosley6 months ago in Poets
Prayer of honor to Lucifer
Lucifer, lord of the element of air, I honor you on this day of the first rite as well as everyday of my life. Please teach me to love all people the same as you love all mankind. Please teach me each day to treat all people with love and respect no matter their religious background. Please teach all demonolatrist to treat all people with respect.
By Danielle Mosley6 months ago in Poets
Prayer for fertility to Lilith
Lilith, mother of mankind, I ask you to heal all men and women of infertility. Please give them the ability to have children. I know one of the most important things in some people's lives is to be able to have a child. Please heal infertile men and women and give them the joy of having life. I know and realize it is one of the most beautiful and fulfilling parts of being human.
By Danielle Mosley6 months ago in Poets
Mature for My Age
I was seventeen and already speaking like I had taxes to file, already sitting with my legs crossed like an apology, already thanking waiters too carefully, already rehearsing adulthood like maybe if I did it convincingly enough someone would finally keep me. Then you arrived with your cigarette voice and your hands always smelling like rain-soaked denim and liquor, looking at me like you’d discovered something hidden under floorboards. You said I was different. Not pretty first— different. Which felt worse somehow. More permanent. You said girls your age are exhausting, but you— you could hold a conversation, you understood nuance, you had old eyes. Old eyes. I carried that phrase around like a stolen ID. I let it buy me entry into places I had no business being. You loved me most when I acted least like myself. When I stayed calm while you disappeared for hours. When I laughed at jokes that felt like bruises. When I folded myself smaller and smaller so your ego could stretch its legs. You called me mature in the same breath you blamed everything on my age. After fights, you’d rake your hand through your hair like a tired father and tell me, “You’re just too young to understand relationships like this.” Like this. As if love was supposed to feel like standing barefoot on broken glass trying not to bleed loud enough to make you leave. You made cruelty sound educational. Every time you hurt me there was suddenly a lesson attached to it. I was needy. I was sensitive. I took things too personally. Meanwhile you could disappear for two days and come back smelling like another woman’s shampoo and somehow I was the unstable one for noticing. I became excellent at doubting myself. You’d flirt with waitresses right in front of me, then kiss my temple afterward like I should feel lucky to be chosen at all. And God, I did. That’s the humiliating part. I loved you like a dog left out in the rain still wagging its tail when the door finally opens. Even after you left me crying in parking lots. Even after you went cold in bed beside me, your body there but your attention already elsewhere. Even after I started memorizing the silence between your texts better than my own reflection. The night you ended things, you spoke so gently I almost mistook it for kindness. You said this wasn’t healthy anymore. Said I deserved someone closer to my stage of life. And I remember thinking: Funny. My age only seemed tragic once you were done using it. You left me with all this wreckage then walked away acting morally exhausted, like surviving you had somehow taken something out of you. But the part that still wakes me up sometimes is how you kept your location on. Like I wasn’t even worth hiding from. I watched that little blue dot drift through the city night after night. The bar on Main. The whiskey place with the red lights. The ugly rooftop downtown where girls in leather jackets lean over sticky counters hoping destruction picks them special too. I would stare at my phone in the dark imagining your hand on someone else’s back, your mouth at another girl’s ear feeding her the same lines you fed me. You’re different. You’re smarter than girls your age. I forget how young you are. I wonder if she believed you immediately or if you had to work for it. I wonder if she cried in the bathroom eventually too. Years later, I still catch myself apologizing too quickly. Still feel panic rise in my throat when someone’s tone changes slightly. Still confuse being wanted with being consumed. But I know this now: You did not love me because I was mature. You loved me because I was young enough to mistake being destroyed for being chosen.
By Brie Boleyn6 months ago in Poets
