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Magic Shop

Magic Shop


Maria Morisot


Published by Moan Lisa Press


Copyright © 2015 Maria Morisot


Curtains of Remembrance


Horus & the xylophone

interpretation of God

as we were insincere,

and broken the last

shard of our dis-




Your breath,

stable & sincere

fornicator of



The expected

sun, cradled

in the arms

of an empty




the mysteries

of our encoded



One to hold

the corpses

of the damaged



Slaves to the Infinite


Human breath

the scars we try

to hide, uncertainty

for what we once

had wanted to become;

and when the spheres

of truth collapse in

upon themselves,



is dark in

this dream,


And the two-

fold hells

we try to


only close

in around us.


To the swarming

necessity of life,

we give the platform

of our unforgiving

so-called factual

opinions; pinions

to the earth.


Waves of Mercy




grip contains

the mercury bond

and the --





from the silhouette

of an open remainder

signing two hands

into the cluster

of our overture,


You first,

peel the skin

off your knees;

reduce our infinity

to nothing. We are

nothing, let the fates

preserve us in our end.


Firecracker Psychological Break


Every day,

as you & I


ourselves in

bland realities;

corner ourselves

& continue


Running mind in

ammunition; molten

hands built with

lace & fire,

porcelain & the drab

attire of a wounded

military beast;

time to seize

the bannister

& continue


Fuck the stream

of consciousness,

as it glows day-bright.


Lay it on in

uncertain terms,

brace yourself

for an infinitude

of sleepless



Black Market Child


In distress, I’ve

come to claim the

destitution of my

found and then

forgotten soul;





of sense

maintained through

our philosophies,


Intensity &


scrubbed &

violent collaboration

strewn pinnacles

of the un-



vision of a god.




Days were long

and nights had

shattered stars;

an incomplete

assemblage of

mercurial dis-



And we won our

vacant holograms,

synthetic suns

wrapped blindly

across the parapets

to sieve the night

from stars,


And bring the fallen

down slowly, close


To you & me.

Within this wall’s

accumulated cluster

of magnetic sounds,

here we may bring

down around us

the curtain of blood.




In the echoes of her

cataclysmic screams,

to the end of where

our dreams reside;

in parallel to strides

of surfaced wax where we

rediscover each other’s

heightened sensation…


Robotics made evolutionary,

you may not want to face

reality this time, but there’s

deevolved syntactic stride

keeping us down

on the inside.


And behind it all there’s

a price to be paid;


Where we carry out the

dysinterpretation of collective

sins, carried for the transitioning,

and God’s reaction to the synthesis

of hymns & we reduced syntax to

the better part of illogical



Measures of Insanity


Black bottle,

open mind,

open to the infrastructure

of our times;


Little daisy, there,

in a field of death,

every equinox defying

the singular word

of our creation.


To Hell,

beyond the veil;

uncircumsized penitentiary,


Every flaw unlocked

and peeled apart,

and opened up

to the sadness

of your broken heart.


Operatic Finality


A sliver of anticipation,

some scaffolding,

heights uncharted;


Brides and grown

hilarity, two-toned

sentimental serendipity,

you stole the face

I never wore, comeplete

with make-up, painted

surreal reality; the point

at which our bodies

crossed; in still motion,

an unrehearsed refrain.


You showed me there were

points at which

the seasons turn,

and brought me to the

blending of our souls

in perfect benediction,


Erasing the stature

of a dirty mind,

purely potent venomous

reverend castaways.


Methodical Inquiry


Become a cryptologist.

{ every other

spark of_.necessity

has been your;



Pharmaceutical neurology.

{ & on the bed

we practice sine curve

_humility. We, at your

leisure, shove and push

this institutional





{ hemmorhagic future;


& (the catapult of)

God, into the last

redeeming qualities

of man.



$igns and Symbols


Insert; polyphonic aurora,

keep it in pieces, do {

what you will && I keep

drifting; down into

a synthetic sea of glass[]


You were

open to the idea

&& soon we were

given in continuation,

breaking up the balcony

of our remembrances;


You are



&& in this sea

of endless disturbances,

I concur that you are

not like anything.


So for each $ideology

we proposed, I am ( ! afraid );


Trigger the notion of our

non-existent prophetic

reality, swarming with

flies; DO NOT daydream

while the vehicle is in motion.


Ruptured Innocence


The skies bleed red,

Tthis rhetorical

beginning to a sea

of circumstantial

behaviors; algorithmic

betrayals, an euphamism

for the alter-ego


While God :

echo the laughter

of our sisters’

voices creeping


through an intoxication

spin. Mild

irridescent sins;

the fortune of inebriated

calculation, where are

our guides? Where have

we fallen into


This init, halting two’s

complimentary signs,

we are watching,

waiting for the

Earth to be plagiarized,

ill-maintained & sanitized;


Where is our holy fountain?


Thrusted Vendetta


While christening

the adjuncts & the

sillhouetted marionettes;

in conjunction


her paragraphed psychology,


I decided

to hold the key

to all her fame,

permuted flame

of our indiscrepency


Filed & torn by

a miscommunication,

distinct surrender;

how we will

admonish their

capitalistic occupation


Here in the forthcoming

unrecognizable seeds of our



First & foremost,

we distract ourselves

from the oddity of

swift surrender &

intoxication of a sort();


Pigs in Heat


The hollow of the

pigs’ insides;

I thirst for a more

diluted entrance

to her cave,


A reprimanding friost

to our decay; a stormcloud

hanging lowly like

the branches of a diseased



Everything between

our biological expansion

tested with the fires

of our undeniable existances,


You and I, while the sun

collapses; have gone


Deeper into an infernal well,

a hole for contemplation

of a delicate mess

of perumtable breaths.


Retrograde Spectacle


Where you always

reside when the

breath of God subsides;

& in the case of our nonexistent


our sea of isolation;

inharmonious calculation


Set in a line

of golden thread,

with the Golden Ratio

outlining our existential rain,

& fear duplicates

the meaning of our pain.


Why in this




good &

evil gods

one turns

to madness &


to explain



& lets the fires

double; main


thread their way

through violent


visceral love

keeping the balance

between tangible &

divine sentence.


Order Array



of a foot of diamond-class

hierarchical disentigration,

in retrospect, we couldn’t lie

to ourselves, not in the

sprinkling mists of euphoric



Here, spoken


unfolds the recesses

of a diseased heart,

the trolley takes

place in the advent

of our forgiveness,


And we see stars,

And we see saints;

an uncut realization

of broken trusts.


And these god-damned

ticks; made by broken

clocks; foresee the

spinning catalogue

of centuries’ cyclic



Ashes to Ashes


Honed in on the uncertainty

of oxidization’s lovely

sprawl into the catacombs,

a latent eye,

blinking out of turn.





encyclopoedic propaganda

broken into digestible

chunks, slowly burned

in the fires of a new age.


You and I,

cycling through our

horoscopes, back breathe

fire, in an inescapable

reprimand, Earth in-

toxicated by the smells

of sweet perfumes; no longer

lingering on the point of

no return;




I have found,

in the interior

of my bounds,

an astrological

appointment by which

the world comes

crashing down


And through the depths

of this synthetic storm,

I rise and claim my ill



Do you command

my demons &

should I explain

my defect?


I want nothing more.


Finish the praise

on your appointment,

redeem the sequences

of a hypnotic spell,

grant me dissolution,

feed me everything

I’ve been denied.




Your shield posed

against the blood

of my dismemberment;

straw things bled

& the quill precedes

your slip…


Into the bleak

forgiveness stream,

where pi & e

created the first

semblance of our

destinies; burning

bushes, sequenced with

infinities; mouths

speaking blasphemies.


And you held my wrist,

kept me back from

my own disintigration,

fed me sweetened honey,

dripping from

the soul’s sour stick.


Goblins and Witchcraft



fettered ice

sculpted in the name

of God;


& you were

in disrupted sorts,

disputing God &

reason’s chilled

memory, I was—


Dancing with a bear,

undisputed shares of

inadequate consumption,

dressed in plaque &

receding hair; we were

contemplating death

and her deliverance.


While you gave up

the ghost, settled in

an infinitude of flames

where I am coming

to greet you,

to meet your grace,




Terrible incantation,

the kind whose flirtation

crosses bounds of indecency,

and every eye

bleeds clear across the sky;


I think I need your promises,

and the keys to our disguise,

you are everything.


And in this hole of my

deconstructed self,

there’s a silhouette of

doubt creeping deep into

my self; and where

uncertainty and lies

cross fingers in the dusk;


I am in need of

everything you own.


I feel the snake

slithered snug

around my skin,

it’s just a moment’s

notice until the

dust has settled in.


Cellular Paralysis


Will you berate

and breathe your

destiny into


What could have been

a poverty-less sanctification,

your dulled nerves,

bodiless remembrance to

a fire stuck inside

the hospital’s deep recesses;


I’d adamantly replicate

your iso-chronic stain

a fortune in fitness,

a hopeless seizure to

replace the pain.


And while we walked

in silence, I held

your irridescent scab,

folded in another

spot of cyclotronic

registry; commissioned

scars and cellophane

forgeries, the reticent

scattered droplets

made from memory.


Hope is a Four-Letter Word


Stay down;


replaced with

exactly the same


as the last night’s

blood, a

wavering and watchful

motivation, spending

idle moments up above

the sky.


In the night’s

remains where

stars and spiders

draw their breath,

I gaze at perpendicular

manifolds; frosted

functions and kaleidoscopic



Here, I’m lost

and here I shall



Host in hell,

a sentiment of

a milder form

of our decay;

vacant equation

matched by perpen-

dicularities of

a synth’ed estate

match me to

the escalate of

our depraved


Rotten Diorama


In the thick

of our detention,

this adelading violence

& its resplendent

curiosity, here I damn

all my conclusions;

and watch her symmetry

fade into the deepest

form of black.


Night’s proximity

to this unforeseen

irritable perception

of a fact; forced

immediacy &

a digression

of what was held

between bare

flesh and bone’s



This violent corpse:


And the dingy drab

accoutrements required

for our oxygenation.




I need

to resuscitate the

exponential fire that

permeates the fabric

of my skin; those loose

folds of transparent

flesh whose sanctification

comes in waves of

metaphorical illusion.


You can wheel these

stages of rocket fire

& through your scintillating

siren sung,

reach into the depths

of an illusory state;

pulling out fact &

fiction; plates of gold,

a synthesis of transmutation

through the cold & ironed

curtain’s folds.


We speak through tongues

to reach the olfactory

receptors & cling to

this stitch of ink-spat-ter.


Ovulating Facts


Closed lids

and a capitalization

of your doubts

that we could—


In weather unremittent

symbology, a lifeless

sentiment placed on

motion-sickened signs


You were here, between

deep breaths bleeding

notions of a scandalous

affair; and it’s time—


Time to draw

conclusions of an

ovulating dream,

it’s time to remember

all the streams and how

they’ve slipped away


Into our past,

out of the presence

of everything we’ve

spilled between our



Misdemeanor Misconception


Between the phrases

of newer complexity,

my heart knows the

location of her symmetry,


It was a childish wash out

in the sun; this becoming

century of explanation.


Keeping dry,

keeping water flowing;

beneath the sky,

as the winds come

howling this new sentence

finds her deepest secret.


Exploring our asymmetric

identities, keeping calm

across the system of the moon

and sun and stars; as they record

our motion through this hollow.


Eight new frequencies tuned

and one exposed without the

proper recognition for expository sum.


Fascist Remark


Children in the square;

like children, flying

off the handle we were

tired of


an incandescent


because of beauty’s grave

affair. I want to


Hold you closer

than I’ve ever held anyone before;

but time won’t compensate

for the ticking of our clocks.


And if it would


the resting place

of Saturn,

so be it;

turn our heads and

speak into

collapsing bowls of necromancy.




In a hundred hours,

in a day or two, or three;

we find ourselves

lost in a stream of thought,

facing what could become

of this uncertain span of life.



making fantasies;

kissing each other;

kissing the temple

made of sand,

where all hopes,

resentments, fears

wash up against

the time of our oppression.


We want for—

the door is

locked, the downward

spiral is

entertaining thoughts

of the glory of mass

devastation, riddled

with bones; riddled

with indecisive monotony.




Defected with a trembling

heart, and two transplanted

retinas holding perpendicular

shadows; one falls while the

other grazes

the left wing of our silhouetted

tooth decay.


“You are my frog-

prince,” gathering in

the demons of some other

past distortion; let me

inharmoniously beguie

an incandescent flotation

device, while we match

each other’s disconnect,


Harmoniously playing

marks across

a sheet of music paper; and the

sun, waxing and waning

in the sky; no time for

plastic surgeries this



Forecast will suspend

the notes in silence’s

background, showing

how the world was born;

and how it will become

dust in an endless sea

of mutating sub-atomic matter.


Detained Persistence


You were what everyone

had held deeply nested

in dreams, the fake identity

of a smile past tense;

another deity.


When you moved your

lips, and the sentience

of God rained down upon

our isolating fraction,

peace croaks the sad serenity

of our disheveled appearances.


Once more housing the boycott

to one’s exact page,

one’s plea & my mistake,


Now gold, now open

hospice certainly

sustained through

our communion; once

we were gathered

there, fixed in

steady motion,

our velocity restrained;

a more corporeal

dimension to the

gravity of saints.




Proposing in a scientific

miscalculation; in a sentence

misfired among the remains

of a dead star cluster;


Only in God we trust,

fornicating here like mad.


Death and suns

carry us into

tomorrow’s grasping

of straws among

lions and wolves;


You were here for me,

among the dead,

burning sun,

brightening my otherwise

stille nacht;

the sonic boom

of my expository sum,


Magic Shop

  • ISBN: 9781310508325
  • Author: Maria Morisot
  • Published: 2016-04-13 13:00:10
  • Words: 2417
Magic Shop Magic Shop