The Ineffectual Prince

May 21, 2017

Once upon a time,
there was a prince.
He was not a wealthy prince,
nor a famous prince.
Not a particularly handsome prince,
nor a heroic prince.
One day, he did espy a princess
of singular beauty,
and wit,
and charm.
Being of little fortune, fame, looks and bravery,
the prince was unable to approach the princess.
Fearing rejection,
in the way a greater man might fear an ogre.
So, day and night,
believing himself to be more capable with words,
he sat in his tower,
composing a poem
of singular beauty,
and wit,
and charm.
He illuminated the manuscript,
in the rarest of inks,
working into the night,
until his head grew heavy,
and his eyes grew dry.
Finally, the manuscript was complete,
and, proud of his work,
he showed it to friends,
who, complimentary of his work,
told him to show it to the princess.
“But,” he said to them, “I’m not ready.”
“And,” he said to himself, “how do I know you’re only being complimentary because you’re friends?”
And so,
fearing rejection in the same way a brave knight might fear a dragon.
he locked the manuscript in a chest,
which he placed beneath the throne,
on which he grew old, listening to sad songs.

Chris Dabnor

PICKING THE LOCK

May 21, 2017

I try a bleached bird-bone,
a rutted nail,
my grandmother’s spoon ring uncurled in fire,
a sharp pine-needle waxed in resin,
the slim spine of his favourite book,
until he cries.

I ask the wimpled ghosts
if the key is a word
to place it on my tongue,
please, place it here.

Megan Merchant

Sexuality is intimately connected to questions of identity: who we are as individuals and also our role in society. Human sexuality is thus inextricably linked to cultural, political, and philosophical aspects of life, which are regulated through legal systems based on morality and ethics. Morality and ethics, even in our secularized and late-modern society, are to a large extent based on traditional religious doctrines and teachings (which of course differ in time and place), and it is thus perhaps only natural that new forms of religion often challenge the moral codes and deeply rooted views on sexuality prevalent in the dominant forms of religion and, by extension, in society at large.

Henrik Bogdan and James R. Lewis
Sexuality and the new religious movements

How tame we have become. How polite about our witchcraft. In our desire to harm none we have become harmless.

We have bargained to get a seat at the table of the great faiths to whom we remain anathema. How much compromise have we made in our private practice for the mighty freedom of being able to wear pewter pentagrams in public, at school, in our places of employment. How much have the elders sold us out, genuflecting to the academy, the establishment, the tabloid press. In return for this bargain we have gained precisely nothing. The supposed freedoms we have been granted are empty. Late capitalist culture simply does not care what our fantasy dress up life is like as long as we work our zero hour contracts, carry our mobile phones and keep consuming. The reason that social services are not taking your children away is that nobody believes in the existence of the witch. We have mistaken social and economic change for the result of our own advocacy. Marching in lock-step with what used to be called mainstream, but is now mono-culture, we have disenchanted ourselves, handed over our teeth and claws and bristling luxuriant furs. I will not be part of this process, because to do so is to be complicit with the very forces that are destroying all life on earth. It is time for Witchcraft not to choose, but to remember which side it is on in this struggle.

Peter Grey
Talk given at the Pagan Federation South Central conference on Saturday 7th June, 2014

Her fingertip scratches a diagram into the dirt on the floor, upon which is set a piece of quartz, a feather, the slender bone of a cat or hare, and a squat figure of black stone. With the quartz in position at one end of the diagram and the statue at the other, she transfers the other items between them in such a manner that they must bypass a number of small obstacles. This section of her play completed, she posts the feather through the entrance to the chamber beyond: little more than a slit in the rock, rimmed with bitter water.

My operator’s attention is no longer directed toward her. I am hurried across the threshold in pursuit of the feather, only to be summoned back to the terrace with an urgency that makes my shape buckle and flatten in the air, for my operator has reached ahead of me and found that other who twisted a leash for him out of boredom and a melancholy recognition: the child left to prophesy in darkness.

Paul Holman
Tara Morgana

21st May

Reality is multi-faceted. We inhabit this world and often describe it with words – but if you know the correct combination of words…well, then you can make this world whatever you want it to be. That’s magic, you see. And magic and words is all you’ll ever need.

#

I can’t help but enjoy her helpless pleading. It’s a silly game we play, I know, but when she cries:

‘No, not there, please….pleeeasssseee.’

And I force it to fit, and see the expression on her face in the mirror on the far wall. That moment feels so erotically charged.

#

Last summer seven of us around Dave and Mary’s swimming pool. Sophia and Vic arguing, then wrestling between a pair of sunbeds, like truculent children. Vic yowling when Sophia twists his cock. She has it out of his trunks, semi-erect, gripping it in her small fist. He is red-faced, sweating…We watch Vic forced gradually to his knees, breathing noisily, unable to free himself or counter Sophia’s vice-like hold.

‘Stop struggling.’ She orders. ‘Stop now or I’ll tear it out by the root.’

‘Alright, alright.’

His sister Babs calls out vaguely obscene acts Sophia might force him to comply with, and Vic yells out:

‘Whose side are you on, Sis?’

Sophia’s eyes are bright with this unexpected victory and the sense of power she has over him. She is on one knee beside him. The knuckles griping his twisted cock are white with the effort, while her other hand has now captured his exposed balls. His shorts are down round his thighs. One of his hands is pressed to the ground supporting his weight, the other is wrapped loosely round Sophia’s right wrist. He can’t tug at her because she twists harder, both balls and cock.

‘Come on,’ he says ‘Enough is enough. Let go now – ’

‘Make him suck Kenny’s cock,’ Babs’ suggests. She is quite intoxicated by sun and vodka. ‘Let’s see him do that…We could all use a laugh.’

Ken B rolls on his side on the bright orange sunbed. Using his thumbs he works his trunks over his hips. Fat, meaty cock standing to attention.

‘Bring it on,’ he cries. Removing his sunglasses, he gives Vic a nasty wink.

‘Come on, I’m not doing that,’ says Vic. ‘Not for anyone – ’

And he moans in pain as Sophia twists harder, her conquering smile at his shoulder.

‘You’ll do exactly as I say.’ She says this with such passion. ‘Now up you get, slave boy, and over to Kenny. You’re going to do a bit of sucking – ’

‘He can do me, when he’s finished with Ken,’ Mary calls. She props herself up on her sunbed, both tits exposed and glowing. ‘Like to lap at my cup Vic? I’ve been in the pool so it’s all washed for you.’

General laughter and applause round the pool as Vic is forced to his knees beside Kenny’s sunbed. Head forward, face brushing Ken’s cock before Vic finally takes it reluctantly into his mouth.

‘There’s a good boy,’ says Sophia. ‘You take to that like a duck to water. A baby with its pacifier.’

The sight of his bobbing head produces laughter all around. Kenny gives this slightly obscene wriggle when he cums in Vic’s mouth. The hateful expression on Vic’s face as he straightens up causes yet more laughter.

‘Me next,’ cries Mary. Dave tells her to behave herself, but she’s unknotted her bikini bottom, and raised one leg into the air. To open herself wider, she draws the folds of skin apart with her fingers. ‘Here you are. All ready for you.’

And within seconds Vic is on his knees and feverishly pressing his lips to this small pink conch shell. More enthusiasm in his movements now. Her thighs press to his ears. He licks at the growing wetness, face flushed, breathing loudly. Again applause around the pool at the climax of this vulgar ritual. Her long body shuddering in the throes of joy…

Sophia finally releases him.

Vic pulls up his trunks.

And everyone applauds the fine performance.