November 16, 2015


To bring peace after a stressful day or to relief anxieties.
You will need the following items for this spell:

• 4 Blue Candles
• A Blue marker pen
• A piece of paper
• A quiet place

Set up the candles in a circle. On the piece of paper write in blue ink the word peace.

Sit down in the middle of the circle and place the piece of paper in front of you and stare at it until you have it in your mind’s eye once you close your eyes. Focus on this word.

Focus on the letters flowing off the paper and surrounding you.
See the word become the air around you, and the ground under.

Focus on the word, let it roll on your tongue. Let it be you.
Picture in your mind a peaceful place, gives peace now a body form. Sit with peace, sing with peace, dine with peace.

Let peace guide you along the stone paths, let peace walk you up the steps of a temple.

Ask peace to stay with you, to guide you in life while awake and asleep. Ask peace to join you in your realm.

Take peace’s hand and open your eyes.

Do not personify Peace as someone you know.

Source HERE.

Serious about kink?

November 16, 2015


Peedeel says: “You need more than a safe word, boys and girls. If in your games you’re hog-tied and gagged your safe word will sound like a chipmunk gargling with ketchup. You NEED a safe sign, too. A movement or gesture that lets your Dom know you’re in trouble.”

the witch’s breath

November 16, 2015


In the west country we believe that the spittle of the witch is a vehicle of their will and power, and thus their magical influence. The very act of spitting within the traditional practices of the country witch is to impart their will imbued power and influence…Likewise is the witch’s breath a potent conveyor and vehicular vessel of power and spirit force, to which the body of the witch has by arte been made host, and those potencies, virtues and spirits conjured within the rites and magical work of the practitioner, may in pure focus of will and intent be imparted and issue forth upon such things such as places, charms, parts of the body and magical likenesses skilfully crafted by the witch’s hand.

Gemma Gary, The Black Toad

Song of the Mark

November 16, 2015


Song of the Mark as told by Frater Alogos Dhul’Qarnen Khirdir (Andrew D. Chumbley), taken from the Psalterium Caini of the Cultus Sabbati. Transcribed onto parchment by iopanosiris.

The Tooth Fairy

November 16, 2015

Faery_ Brian Froud_Alan Lee
They brushed a quarter with glue
and glitter, slipped in on bare
feet, and without waking me,
painted rows of delicate gold
footprints on my sheets with a love
so quiet, I still can’t hear it.

My mother must have been
a beauty then, sitting
at the kitchen table with him,
a warm breeze lifting her
embroidered curtains, waiting
for me to fall asleep.

It’s harder to believe
the years that followed, the palms
curled into fists, a floor
of broken dishes, her chainsmoking
through long silences, him
punching holes in his walls.

I can still remember her print
dresses, his checkered taxi, the day
I found her in the closet
with a paring knife, the night
he kicked my sister in the ribs.

He lives alone in Oregon now, dying
slowly of a rare disease.
His face stippled gray, his ankles
clotted beneath wool socks.

She’s a nurse on the graveyard shift.
Comes home mornings and calls me.
Drinks her dark beer and goes to bed.

And I still wonder how they did it, slipped
that quarter under my pillow, made those
perfect footprints…

Whenever I visit her, I ask again.
“I don’t know”, she says, rocking, closing
her eyes. “We were as surprised as you.”

Dorianne Laux

(Dorianne Laux’s fifth collection, The Book of Men, winner of The Paterson Prize, is available from W.W. Norton. Her fourth book of poems, Facts about the Moon won The Oregon Book Award and was short-listed for the Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize. Laux is also the author of Awake; What We Carry, a finalist for the National Book Critic’s Circle Award. Her website HERE.)

Paper Trails

November 16, 2015

Siren Song

November 16, 2015


This is the one song everyone
would like to learn: the song
that is irresistible:

the song that forces men
to leap overboard in squadrons
even though they see the beached skulls

the song nobody knows
because anyone who has heard it
is dead, and the others can’t remember.

Shall I tell you the secret
and if I do, will you get me
out of this bird suit?

I don’t enjoy it here
squatting on this island
looking picturesque and mythical

with these two feathery maniacs,
I don’t enjoy singing
this trio, fatal and valuable.

I will tell the secret to you,
to you, only to you.
Come closer. This song

is a cry for help: Help me!
Only you, only you can,
you are unique

at last. Alas
it is a boring song
but it works every time.

Margaret Atwood

An Ordinary Gift

November 16, 2015


Deep in this block of light, slipping away in cut angles,
a gathering of dust, spun into a tiny dancing figure.

My birthday, and I think of all those years
of urgency, a straining at the horizon
and shadows fierce with sign, leaving me soul-tied
not knowing what was calling, the voice always just beyond leaving
me longing, and leaden with shame

as, older now, I turn the paperweight this way and that
trying to find and hold the gossamer figure

a misty veining – wings – the flicking rim of a skirt an
eye-lash thin arm reaching for – or throwing – a speck

and realise I cannot tell the smears and lines
of my own warm fingerprints on the glass

from the hazy winged image, quick as breath, and beautiful.

Caroline Natzler

(Caroline Natzler is a writer and poet who teaches creative writing in London. See more about her HERE)

unless they have to…

November 16, 2015


I know what you are learning to endure. There is nothing to be done. Make sure nothing is wasted. Take notes. Remember it all, every insult, every tear. Tattoo it on the inside of your mind. In life, knowledge of poisons is essential. I’ve told you, nobody becomes an artist unless they have to.

Janet Fitch
White Oleander