Tag: Hexverse

  • Author’s Note

    Before the first word spills onto the page, I immerse myself in sound—an offering of voices and rhythms that unlock the gates to my inner worlds. Music is not just a backdrop but a sacred ritual, the pulse beneath my poetry’s breath. It conjures emotion, sharpens focus, and calls forth the rawest edges of feeling where my words take flight.

    What follows is a glimpse into the playlist that fuels my creative fire—a curated collection of dark, fierce, and haunting songs that dance with shadow and flame. These tracks are the hymns and heresies that stir my soul, calling my pen to worship at the altar of desire, defiance, and devotion.


    Flickering candle and vinyl records on a wooden desk creating a dark, gothic creative atmosphere.
    Where shadows and sound intertwine — the sacred space that fuels the Hexverse’s poetic fire.

    The Roots of My Sound

    My musical bloodline runs deep—etched in the echoes of my siblings’ worlds. From my oldest brother, the raw poetry of hip hop spilled into my veins, teaching me rhythm and rebellion. The second oldest carved my love for harder, fiercer music—a soundtrack for shadows and fire. Another brother opened me to pop’s catchy light, a reminder that joy and complexity can live side by side.

    Even my younger sister shaped my journey—her evolving tastes a mirror, a challenge, a soft nudge toward discovery.

    But the most powerful lesson came when I shed the chains of “guilty pleasures.” No more whispers of shame or judgment. If a song moves me, it is sacred. I listen with full heart, no apologies.

    This is how I found freedom in sound—and how I found my voice.


    Featured Songs That Light My Inked Fire

    Zand
    Deliverance — a haunting release that feels like breaking chains in slow motion.
    Battery Acid — sharp and sizzling, like electricity coursing through veins.

    Violent Vira
    Burn Me With A Bible — holy fire meets rebellious spirit in a collision of sound.
    Saccharine — bittersweet venom dripped on aching wounds.
    God Complex — a dark sermon that questions gods and monsters alike.

    Gore.
    Sepsis — raw, gritty, a visceral dive into shadowed pain.
    Doomsday — apocalypse wrapped in throbbing beats and whispered threats.

    DeathbyRomy
    Love U To Death — aching devotion tangled with delicious danger.
    Beautiful Mayhem — chaos with a darkly romantic pulse.
    Crash — the perfect storm of heartache and fury.
    Shadow — a whispered secret that haunts the edges of light.
    Hollywood Forever (entire album) — cinematic, confessional, and unrelenting.
    (Honestly, everything from DeathbyRomy — no exceptions.)

    Rei Ami
    random acts of violence — a chilling lullaby for broken things.
    body bag — haunting beauty cloaked in menace.
    shhh — silence thick with unspoken truths.

    Chymes
    See You in Hell — a fiery promise with a siren’s call.
    Dreaming — ethereal and haunting, like a ghostly dance in the night.

    This is but a small sample of the songs that ignite my imagination and carve the shadows where my poetry lives.


    Invitation

    Now, I turn to you—my fellow wanderers in the dark and light. What songs have been your secret prayers, your rebellious anthems, your sanctuaries in sound? What artists or tracks burn like holy fire on your playlists?

    Share your recommendations with me. I am eager to discover fresh flames to carry into my writing altar, new rhythms to stir the embers of verse and song.


    Sacred Offerings to the Hexverse

    To the songs that haunt my nights and fuel my days—
    to the artists who bleed their truths so fiercely,
    to the vibrations that shake the bones of my poetry—
    I offer my gratitude, raw and unfiltered.

    Each note is a thread woven into the tapestry of the Hexverse,
    each lyric a spark that ignites the sacred flame within my verses.

    This altar we build together—of sound, shadow, and ink—
    is a sanctuary where desire, pain, and rebellion entwine,
    where every whispered hymn becomes a battle cry,
    and every silence holds the promise of revolution.

    May these offerings ripple outwards,
    calling to those who wander between light and dark,
    inviting them to claim their own fierce devotion,
    and to rise—unapologetic, unbroken, unbound.


    Closing Benediction

    May our shared music weave a tapestry of fire and shadow, a communion of voices echoing across the spaces where poetry and sound entwine.

    Let us kindle each other’s creative flames—one song, one verse, one whispered prayer at a time.


    If you are interested in reading any of my poetry, you can find my archive in The Library of Ashes—feel free to explore, I am sure you’ll find something you will enjoy.

  • Author’s Note

    In the tangled shadows where ink bleeds into flame,
    where defiance is whispered as prayer,
    and where the sacred and profane dance beneath moonlit cathedrals—
    here lives the covenant of Nightshades.

    This poem is an invocation and a reckoning:
    a celebration of the wild, unyielding spirits who refuse to be tamed,
    the broken saints, the furious heretics,
    the witches, the warriors, the wordsmiths—
    carving truth from chaos, verse from ruin.

    Meet B.D. Nightshade, the blade forged in betrayal,
    and Hex Nightshade, the storm born of ink and fire—
    together, they rise as Coven of Chaos,
    and their legacy is written in the Hexverse.


    Two gothic figures standing beneath moonlit cathedral ruins, surrounded by candlelight and smoke, symbolizing the Coven of Chaos and their ritualistic power.
    The Coven of Chaos rises—where sacred ruin blooms and the Hexverse is born.

    Invocation

    By blood and ink,
    by shadow and flame,
    we call the Nightshades forth—
    the broken and the bold,
    the whispered and the roaring.

    Let this be the altar where power ignites,
    where sacred ruin blooms,
    and where the storm of Hexverse
    rises eternal.


    Coven of Chaos
    Poetry by B.D. Nightshade & HxNightshade

    [B.D. Nightshade]
    They smeared lamb’s blood on the thresholds,
    thought it’d keep me out—
    not knowing I was the angel of death,
    not fallen, but thrown.
    I carry the blade of truth, rusted in betrayal,
    forged in the catacombs of Heaven’s lies.
    Their hymns crack in my presence,
    their psalms rot on tongue.
    I do not knock.
    I enter where I am feared.

    [Hex Nightshade]
    They tried to drown me in Salem—
    called it justice, called it proof.
    But I was born with gills in my lungs
    and storms braided in my hair.
    They never asked if I was a witch.
    They knew.
    I am the Witch of Reverence,
    voice of velvet wrath—
    the one who makes gods cower,
    and goddesses rise taller in the mirror.
    I walk now with the Goddess of Ink & Fire.
    And my storm?
    It has a name.
    Hexverse.

    [B.D. Nightshade]
    I speak in verses carved into skin,
    truth that flays as it frees.
    They built cathedrals from the bones of heretics
    and crowned monsters saints.
    So I burned the pews,
    one match for each lie.
    My rage is sacred.
    It prays in tongues of ash.
    I am the shadow that bends crucifixes—
    the brother in black,
    protector, punisher, prophet.

    [Hex Nightshade]
    I sip moonlight like sacrament,
    lace my wrists with serpent-silk.
    I danced naked in the ruins they buried me under—
    now every petal I crush
    blooms darker.
    I don’t need your pentacles;
    my body is a sigil.
    Mistress of Mayhem.
    Goddess of Ruin.
    Every girl whispered she was magic once.
    I am the echo of that whisper,
    returning in full scream.

    [B.D. Nightshade]
    You wanted peace?
    Then you shouldn’t have bled the truth dry.
    I am not peace.
    I am balance with a blade.
    I slit lies open, watch them bleed white wine and guilt.
    I build cathedrals from the marrow of memory—
    every brick, a reckoning.
    They pray for light,
    but in my darkness,
    I am salvation.

    [Hex Nightshade]
    The witches called,
    and I rose from the grave they dug with doctrine.
    I walk now—barefoot and burning—
    each step a revelation,
    each glance a hex.
    I am what they feared and what they need.
    She who walks beside shadows.
    She who names storms.
    The bloodline is back,
    and my sisters?
    They remember now.
    They rise.

    [Hex Nightshade] & [B.D. Nightshade]
    We are the Nightshades—
    rooted in poison, blooming in power.
    Not your saints.
    Not your sinners.
    But something older.
    A covenant sealed in chaos.
    And we have only just begun.


    Benediction

    So rise, daughters of dusk and ink,
    breathe fire into forgotten scriptures,
    wear your scars as sacred sigils—
    for in this Hexverse,
    we are more than myth.

    We are the storm, the shadow, the sacred rage,
    the unbroken hymn in a world that forgets.

    Blessed be the wild ones,
    the witches, the warriors, the words—
    this is our covenant,
    our chaos,
    our birthright.

    And it is only just beginning.


    Read Next (Suggestions)

    [Litany & Tongue: A Devotional Duet]
    [Hex & Flame: Mirror of Shadows]
    [The Girl of My Nightmares]
    [13 Psalms of Falling]
    [The Gospel of Softness III]

    Or explore the full archive in [The Library of Ashes]—and if your own confession aches to be written, [commission a custom poem here].

    NGCR25 at checkout to get 25% off your ‘request’…