The Invocation
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The Endless EmbraceThe army of Gods attack from all directions, Some wielding iron some wielding fear. Others descend with psychosis, Nets, made from madness and tears. Still others ascend from the darkness, Wielding heartache and dread. Others with mute crimson harnesses, With shackles and boots made of lead. 'You've called us' They yell and they whimper, To collect all the prayers that you said . Did you think we dare not of answered, As you lye late at night in your bed. We are all of the dreams that you wanted, Yet never were able to get. We are all of the fears that have haunted, And tortured your soul as you weeped. So now is the time for the battle, Now is the time we have come. You called on our names in the chapels, For everything under the sun. 'Take me' you cried, as you offered, Yourself to service and bliss. Yet how could this offering fail us, Has everything just come to this. Temples in ruins and tatters, Skies marked with fire and smoke. Seashores drowning and battered, Cities so dark as to choke. So how will you meet us as we come, Full of light with the fires of revenge. And take back those things that deceived us, That you broke, so unwilling to mend. And how does it feel at this hour, When at last your destiny calls. Like lightning that destroys the tower, And everything crumbles and falls. In the ash and the dust sits a master, A meditative gaze on his face. Then a smile breaks his lips and then laughter, Holds himself in an endless embrace.  Ghetto Priest Image taken from the Ghetto Priest Series by
https://www.augustesunny.com/?fbclid=IwAR0Qrhu3pjND_UgfWmvUvo_QbKeCM_O40JA1G4pMgh2KCLd7cg0bVrftjBA The Devil and the Drunkard I sat on the sunny steps smoking, breathing in the warm sea air. A drunkard named Frances sat down beside me, her eyes watering, distraught and pleading. We sat in silence for a moment, then I said, ‘It hurts right? You need a drink don’t ya ?’ She nodded quietly and shamefully bowed her head. I took some loose change from my pocket and gave it to her.
‘There ya go honey, should be enough to take the pain away.’ She grabbed the money sharply from my hand and scuffled off into the summer’s fading light. Later she returned and enlivened from the fire water asked me bluntly, ‘Are you the Devil ?’ I laughed humbly and shook my head, ‘Of course not, why do you say that? Just cause I gave you some change for ya liquor ? ‘ ‘ No’, she said her eyes no longer stinging from withdrawal, ‘I saw him in a dream, he was beautiful and looked just like you’. She took another gulp from the large brown bottle she’d purchased, taking a moment to savor the liquid medicine now diluting into her blood stream. ‘ He said he was coming for me, that I was his and it would soon be time to go with him’. As she spoke those last words her voice slowed and her swollen eyes moved nervously about as if something was out there hunting her down. Again I laughed to lighten the mood ‘And he looked just like me, that’s hilarious, of course I’m not the devil!’ ‘ What’s going to happen to me ‘ she said her eyes now saddened but steady, ‘ I can’t stop drinking, I know it’s no good for me but I just can’t st....’ Before the last word could pass through her lips, she swayed back and forth as if delirious, her eyes starting to roll into the back of her drunken head. A strange cluck then a gargling sound came from the back of her throat and then, as if in slow motion, she slumped forward dead in front of me. What was left of her beer poured out onto the concrete, like alcoholic blood bleeding out across the pavement. I sat there silent, the now cooling sea breeze blowing her strong unwashed scent away from me. Picking up my hat I fixed it firmly upon my head and looking down at her now dead and silent carcass, I whispered, ‘ You could of prayed to god young lady, but instead you summoned me and you know I don’t work for free. I’ll be seeing you soon but first there are others need attending to and debts that need keeping !’ The moon slowly peeked above the horizon flickering silver sparks across the ocean as the wind gently blew in the last of the summers breeze. Wordz; Yanu Zsigo Melancholy as a Spiritual Practice ! I have been melancholic my whole life, as a child i would have what i would call my ' black moods ' and hide myself away for a few days at a time with the curtains drawn in darkness , huddled up in a ball, preferably under a shelf or in a cupboard isolated away from everything. I had no idea what was happening all i knew was i could somehow feel the pain of the world. It was like there was no filter between me and the soul of the world, Somehow in them lamentable days my small body held all sorrows, all sadness, all grief. Of course at the time i had no way of describing these concepts as i am now, all i knew was that it would overwhelm and consume me totally, i would huddle up and shiver waiting until the darkness passed. Upon which i would resurface from my small hide away extremely emotionally fragile but hyper sensitive to colour and light and the agonizing beauty of life itself. I was never the child that saw spirits, that had psychic premonitions, that remembered themselves in past lives etc, i was the Shadow boy, the one who felt everything. As stated before i had no facility for describing this process when i was younger but it has continued my whole life. In my teenage years i dealt with it by taking vast quantities of drugs ending up a full blown heroin addict, the ultimate pain killer, that numbed out everything. Eventually i died, not physically but mentally, emotionally and spiritually i had a total breakdown and was taken to the pits of hell within myself, where i was devoured completely by intense demonic forces. Yet here i am 27 years clean from all drugs, apart from cigars of course ha and still this cycle persists in my life and why i wanted to write this short piece. These last 27 years have not been without intense suffering also but now i have learned to use this process to my advantage and realize that actually this descent into the underworld, this dismantling of my psyche is in actual fact part of my spiritual practice, my shamanic path.Now when the darkness comes internally i honour it, i bow before it, i offer myself to it. First with a prayer, then the great descent. Roughly every five years my entire internal map of who i am, what the world is and how i relate to it goes through a huge alteration through this death rebirth cycle. Literally everything i think that i am is confronted and then destroyed. It is the most agonizing experience and can take months and months for me to get through. Nowadays if i went to a doctor or shrink I'm sure they would say I'm suffering from depression and offer me medication for it, this undoubtedly would place a chemical mask over the process, it would possibly make me more functional in the world but oh so much would be lost from taking it. If anyone reading this now is already on medication i don't want you for a second to think my experience is yours and stop your meds. You have your own path and its your destiny to figure your way through it. I only share this as my own experience and to say that spirit not only lives in the light and the upper world but also deep within the darkness of suffering, down into the blackened bed of trapped souls, that which needs to be excavated re integrated, embraced and communed with. Many of my now familiar spiritual allies reflect this aspect of transformation, Crow, Raven, Snake, Horned God, Ellegua Alagwana, Babalu aye etc. All of these spirits are gate keepers to the mysteries of life and death and are no easy medicine to take or Ase to align with. I can't help but laugh at those that wish to be a ' Shaman ' etc, of course drum circles are nice, journeying is helpful and fun but when its time to pay the Keepers their due most would run screaming and rightly so, the door to the devouring mother is narrow and full corpses who thought they would come looking for power but instead ended up dead or insane. There is however a simple practice that anyone can do to transform the shadows back into colour and that is embrace the pain and surrender to the darkness. Take time to be with yourself, identify where the pain is within you, that's the thread, the tap root that will eventually unwind the entire Dark Bundle. Now pray fervently for guidance and fully enter into it, surrender to your suffering. I know it feels like your enemy, that instead it should be banished and broken but in truth it is your soul screaming for attention, crying from the darkness to be recognized, to be seen, to be embraced and most of all to be loved. My experience has always been that in the fires of hell and the depths of the underworld, at the core of darkness lyes something more beautiful than can ever be imagined, more tender and sweet than any blossoming flower. It is the Great Secret to all the Mysteries, it is the seat of the soul and the pain of its birthing pangs back into the world.  Melancholy is a spiritual practice, only those that dive deep ascend to the heaven. Bless you all on this Samhain, may the Gates enamour you to action ! Images; Jacek Solkiewicz Imagine God / Goddess as the Other, the Objective, as the opposite sex and you, as yourself the subjective. That the search for Union with the Divine is no different than your search for communion with your Lover, your Beloved. Now consider your awareness as YOU and everything your experiencing right now, no matter what it is through your awareness, what appears as external as the Divine Lover / The God / Goddess. The witness and the witnessed... Got it ? Ok ! Now read this short poem whilst listening to the music here on youtube by Dhaffer Youseff, Read it over like a poetic prayer until ..... ! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_vpQ4EBs8yA . . The Lover As i awake so you await me Today friend or enemy We love so we hate You make me We are together In violent rapture Torn from each other Stitched back together Seeking constantly The Lover There’s no escape From love’s torture Only the persistent flower The one that never withers But blossoms in winter Petals gentle that flicker Once plucked are poison With possessions passions Becomes heartache And longing for The Lover But i am here with you Holding your heart The hermits lantern Shining in the dark Allow me to embrace you To steal from you All that would tempt you To believe you are alone You are not For i am with you You are not For i am with you You are not For i am with you I love you The Lover I love you My Lover I love you Be Loved I love you Be Love I Love Love Love Love Lov. Lo.. L ... ..... .... ... .. . . San Lazaro By my hands alone
Have i raised you Yet you forsake me Poisonous vapor Poured from your cavernous lips Clenched on crippled lies Whore of the night Your now limp carcass Perfumed in sugary scents Devoured by the long tongued snake Poisoned by its venom Bound alone forgotten I who am the sunsets son Fraught with bruised pestilence I shall now lay with you Only to find you unworthy Of my bright kingdom Beyond life’s sordid sufferings My trembling hand now open Forsakes you to the omens To the land of hobbling men No longer knowing No longer seeing Just squirming, squeaking, jerking and yelping I fear not your curses I am the diseased breath that speaks them The whisperer that deafens ears As the vultures circle i return to my kingdom Lord of the earth Crowned purple and golden 'A prayer to some, a curse to the one that speaks them !’ Poem by Y. Zsigo Image by Pep Bonet B EvidenciaThe other day at LaBotanica a friend came to visit with her 10 year old daughter. I felt an immediate kinship with her as we played and talked showing her various things in the shop. When they left and were on the ferry back home to North Amsterdam Lot { thats her name } turned to her mother and said she recognized me from a past life in a First Nation/Native American village, where i was a shaman/doctor and gave every new-born child presents. She said she was my best friend and the village's hairdresser for special ritual festivals and that i had a wolf, a bear and two cats as Allies.... In Espiritismo we call this an 'evidencia', a true confirmation from Spirit.. I have never met Lot before yesterday, she knows nothing of my connection to Native people's or the fact that i have both Bear and Wolf in my spiritual framework. I knew i knew that little girl as soon as i saw her, now i know why !  The Devouring Mother She has fallen into fire
Now hungrier than ever Seduced by death’s power The starving lustful lips With the swing of her plump hips From black chalice sips Nothing is held sacred The white flesh that lies naked Her beauty old and faded A promise once to keep Blood spilled now at her feet The scythe cuts the wheat The words that have been spoken The gates are ever open The hearts strings that are broken Beware the black pilgrim That swollows her children And devours her own sin Who wretches on the hate That now meets her own fate Her son’s that lay castrate Her bloodlust now enraged Bound and cursed and caged The war that has been waged So now to steal her wealth The books lye on her shelf For she has hexed herself And now to eat her own The good fortune that has flown All bloated and alone Then last comes her Mistress Demanding the last kiss Returned to the Abyss So be careful now my babies Lest you too catch her scabies From mothers mouths with rabies When finished with the night We now turn to the light And leave them to their plight So come home to the sun Where all now comes undone A New Day has begun.... . Art; Alessandro Sicioldr Wordz; Yanu Zsigo ‘A prophetic poem for misplayed magick’ 'Everytime read is recast !' Click on link Idiot Compassion and the Devouring Mother https://medium.com/@andrewpgsweeny/idiot-compassion-and-the-devouring-mother-3dbe2b1dc688 |
