by Nick Gisburne
I’ll never get these spells of mine to work
I think my magic powers may be jammed
Today I sent a crowd of cats berserk
A hairy hokey pokey of the damned
Forbidden verses, written on my wrist
Unite me with the spirits of the dead
But coughing through a cloud of crimson mist
I’m sure a mark was missing, or misread
I shape the spell again, but in reverse
Imagining it must be worth a try
The aftermath is infinitely worse
A chasm into Chaos splits the sky
The Underworld is cleaner than you think
Avoid the lakes of blood - they really stink
