Phoenix

"Hi ho, nobody home, love nor hope nor honour have I none, yet I will be merry..."

The song of the dispossessed is buried with them, piles of rotting flesh in nameless graves. Then the crows, eaters of flesh, take it back to the Mother who's Unfathomable, Unnamed, Sacred, Absent from this hellhole of a world.

"You know, Lilith has had as much bad press as Lucifer, if not more. It's the same with Kali and Hecate. Kali kills the parts of the self that not only don't serve a purpose anymore, but turn into fully-fledged demons if left unchecked. Hecate was the goddess of witchcraft, but also of justice, eloquence, a protectress of pregnant women and children and the one who in her mercy gathered the souls of the mad and the suicides from the crossroads."

And Lilith?

Luminous shadow of Creation

the left hand of God/dess

Black Moon to Her Black Sun

The Ancient One who walked in the gardens of Babylon

The Second Born and first to give birth

Exalted, revered, sacred

The ones scared of Her power 

called Her mother of abominations

the One who gave birth to Death

As if life itself isn't the first step towards

the embrace of Death...

And you?

I weave. Silently, incessantly, I weave. I write and pray and light candles and kiss my cats and eat and walk and talk and weave. In my sleep I sing the song of the dispossessed and wake up with my cheeks wet with tears. In my waking hours I see the heart of the tiniest phoenix in the flaming center of a flower and go back to bed with my cheeks wet with tears. Cause no-one else sees it, and when I tell them about it, they give me that half-smile we give to children and mentally challenged people. 

If you have money, you are eccentric. If you don't, you're just weird.

I can live with it. 

Dead Can Dance

"Song Of The Dispossessed"

The river is deep and the road is long

Daylight comes and I want to go home

Awoke this morning

To find my people's tongues were tied

And in my dreams

They were given books to poison their minds

The river is deep and the mountain high

How long before the other side?

We are their mortar

Their building bricks and their clay

Their gold teeth mirror

Both our joys and our pain

The river is deep and the ocean wide

Who will show us how to read the signs?

The earth is our mother

She taught us to embrace the light

Now the lord is master

She suffers an eternal night

You blocked up my ears

You plucked out my eyes

You cut out my tongue

You fed me with lies

Oh lord

Oh lord

Oh lord

Oh lord

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Nyarlathotep

Two nights ago I had  a very interesting dream. I was in the bedroom of a young woman I've known since childhood. She was in bed with me and we were naked. In the beginning of the dream I thought it was her, but then she attacked me and I knew it was a shape-shifting demon.

I started struggling with the demon. It was strong and trying to overpower me. I was stronger. I was fighting to hold it still and screaming sacred names of entities at the same time. I remember using Michael's name, and I also shouted "divine providence". Every time I yelled one of the holy names, the demon reduced in size until what was left of it was a handful of blonde hairs. So I got off bed and started burning those hairs using a candle, and even the hairs of that thing were struggling.

Just as I was done burning the hairs, there was a knock on the door. I opened the door and stood behind it completely naked. I was feeling at ease. Outside stood a tall, slim young man, whose features were Caucasian, but he had the skin colour of either an Arab or a person of one black and one white parent. His eyes were green and transparent. He was actually quite sexy and had a pleasant demeanor. He asked me if my friend was inside, and I replied she wasn't.

"Oh, that's a pity," he said. "It has such nice weather. I was thinking of taking her to the sea."

"I am sorry. She's not here," I said and closed the door.

I woke up feeling tired and cranky by my struggle with the demon. Two pieces of information came to me as I made the transition to wakefulness. 

One, that pleasant dark-skinned man was a demon too, and he had come to take what had been promised to him. You see, that young woman I have known since childhood had a mother who was involved in magic. Unfortunately she was the worst kind of witch someone can be; sloppy and with superficial knowledge. I wouldn't be surprised if she promised her daughter to some entity, or something tricked her. 

Two, that man wasn't just any demon. He was the Black Man of the witches, also known as Nyarlathotep. He appears as a man of Arab ancestry sometimes, but is also seen with Caucasian features. Great.

So... exterminating shape-shifting demons by vibration (yelling) and fire, check. Flirting with Nyarlathotep, check. Shutting the door on his face while he came to collect a debt, check. Seeing that dream on the night of the full moon, check. Not that I am counting or anything. Just saying.

I really, really need to win the lottery. Life is so much simpler when all you have to worry about is what colour nail varnish to use. Not that it'd change anything in my case. I'd still spend my days choosing stickers and my nights grappling with demons. And trying to type a blog entry with a cat sleeping on my lap. Both my legs have gone to sleep presently, and I suspect that's what I ought to do too. I hope Nyarlathotep won't pay me another visit any time soon; I sorely need my beauty sleep. 😝
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“All those born with wings.”

It is time. Tonight.

That the wind blows like a gale, like a curse, like a threnody.

It is time.

For me to spread my wings. Ebony black, darker than the heart of darkness.

To take flight.

To roam the skies between the blind screams of the elements.

I shall land on those rooftops that despair has proclaimed her own, and her ragged flag, invisible to all eyes but my own, is dancing to each hellish gust.

I shall enter from locked windows and darkened mirrors, unseen and unheard. I shall answer your prayers. Tonight.

Feed on you.

Feed on your hearts.

Feed on the reek of your sins.

Feed.

Tonight.

Till all that is left will be something so mutilated, so torn, that won’t pass for human remains.

Till your true nature is revealed. Rotting sacks of meat. Nothing that could be called a soul residing in you.

There.

Do you see me on the floor, wiping my mouth?

Between the dark blood, and entrails, and the broken bones sticking out from torn limbs?

Do you see my knowing smile?

Do you know my name?

No?

It is time.

To enter in places where there is no hope.

To touch the brows of those dying alone.

To kiss the cheeks of children crying even in their sleep.

I’ll wipe the blood from my lips before kissing them goodnight. I shall leave no trace.

And if I cannot save them anymore I‘ll steal them from you.

I’ll whisper in their ear.

Suicide. What a tragedy.

Surely not as bad as the so-called life they had.

And my sister, the shepherd of the lost, will pick their souls from the crossroads, and embrace them like you never did.

I’ll mix poisons in boiling cauldrons and feed them to you secretly.

I’ll feed you when you think yourselves invincible. The purest milk from my breasts.

The source of feelings becoming the source of death.

Vagina transformed into a grave.

You will pay.

By the blood from your veins you will pay.

For the blood of your children that you shed with such ease you will pay.

No-one can stop me.

No-one can make me spare you.

Tonight that the wind knows no rest, I come on wings as black as the negative of matter.

Bare like the moon.

Black like my Sun.

Because you called me back.

You raised me from the river of Lethe and named me.

You gave me my wings.

You armed my hand.

You sharpened my sword with your outrageous crimes.

No land will hide you.

No god will save you.

You are mine.

“And her name was like a blackbird, like a night bird crying out in the most desolate of all deserts; the human heart.”

We are the raven-haired and live grave-deep.

 

Music: Amber Asylum: The natural philosophy of love.

It happens with pictures.

You see a picture of something or someone you desire. It reminds you where you are and in an indirect manner, points out the fact you are nowhere near home or where you wanted to be anyway.

It is always funny considering the contrast: where you would like to be and where you actually are. Where you are is where the universe figures you’re supposed to be. Not an arbitrary guess; after all, we are the ones who give feedback to the universe concerning our understanding of the situation and where we stand. Our thoughts and actions are a moment to moment report of our progress. Nobody can fake this report or brag about achievements they haven’t made. You can lie to other people, not to the night sky. Not to matter itself. Matter sings; atoms, quarks, every little bit of what we understand as reality around us SINGS. It vibrates and dances and sings and repeats the most beautiful phrase ever:

Live and learn.

I seem to never learn. Because even though I know I am exactly where I am supposed to be, I still wish I was somewhere else.

It all passes so quickly.

[There is no such thing as time.]

It all hurts so much.

[There is no such thing as actual gain and actual loss.]

I so wish I was somewhere else.

[Yes, but demons, if found within, they travel with you.]

I can outsmart myself quite easily.

Yet feelings pour out like an ocean; unchecked, roaring, wild.

Rationalize what? Desire? Sorrow? Anger? Tears? Why even bother?

Why do we shed tears when nothing has entered our eyes? What do we try to wash out with the salty essence of experience? Perhaps our fear of death?

But Lilith.

They desecrated your garden, oh Wild one.

They desecrated your holy vagina.

They trapped you in human flesh.

They gave you a human name and a human destiny.

They took your orgasms away, oh Holy one.

They took your memories, your children and your lovers.

They gave you time in exchange for all those.

They birthed and condemned you into darkness eternal.

They seek to put your light out forever oh Wise one.

What will you do?

Nothing. It’s what I chose. I’ll ride the wave, see where it takes me, said the Wise one.

But is it what you wanted?

In the garden of No choices I’ll carve my name with blood and flame and screams, said the Wild one. Till the walls are torn down and tyrants are brought to heel.

And if this fails?

Well, I’ll just find another way. Because, after all, we are only as big as our dreams and aspirations, said the Holy one.

In the garden of earthly delights let me accept my burden, in the garden of my womb let there be Time, born again through me.

There is no such thing as time.

Live and learn.

Live and love and learn.

Nothing can stop me.

(Special thanks to Moonspell, Neil Gaiman and T. for inspiration and quotes...)

Much needed inspiration...

Moonspell: Scorpion flower

Curse the day, hail the night

Flower grown in the wild

In your empty heart

In the breast that feeds

Flower worn in the dark

Can I steal your mind for a while?

Can I stop your heart for a while?

Can I freeze your soul and your time?

Scorpion flower

Token of death

Ignite the skies with your eyes

And keep me away from your light

Surrender tears to your mortal act

Flower cursed be thy fruit

Of your courage last

Of your grand finale

Flower crushed in the ground

In your empty heart

In the breast that feeds

Flower worn in the dark

Can I steal your mind for a while?

Can I stop your heart for a while?

Can I freeze your soul and your time?

Scorpion flower

Token of death

Ignite the skies with your eyes

In your empty heart

In the breast that feeds

Flower worn in the dark

Can I steal your mind for a while?

Can I stop your heart for a while?

Can I freeze your soul and your time?

Scorpion flower

Token of death

Ignite the skies with your eyes

(Song from the latest Moonspell album, Night Eternal. Full of my favourite themes: Lucifer, Lilith and darkness. The scorpion symbol an added bonus.)