Tag Archives: Magic, Ritual, Rites, Alchemy

A Sensuality Ritual for Valentines

I found this ritual on Pamela Neil’s website,  Dancing With Your Shadow.  She is an energy health practitioner in Tuscon, AZ and though I have never had the pleasure of meeting her, I had heard wonderful things about her work.  Her website is a wealth of information, including the following ritual.

I have done this Sensuality Ritual many times myself, and swear by it. It allows one to relax, and to take the time to honor themselves, without judgment or negativity.  Enjoy!

Sensuality Ritual

Intention: To awaken the sensuality within.

Timing: Whenever you wish–but particularly when you feel disconnected from your sexual self; before bed is an ideal time, but you can perform this ritual any time–just give yourself at least an hour and a half to enjoy it.

Ingredients: Red candle (passion), essence of ylang-ylang or jasmine (sensuality), your favorite perfume, chocolate (sensuality), a fragrant lotion, and sensuous music. Optional: silk sheets (sensuality).

Prepare this wonderful tonic to drink at the close of this ritual, which will delight your senses and unleash your nascent sensuality: Blend 1 cup of papaya juice, 1/4 cup of mashed banana, 1/4 cup watermelon juice, and 1 teaspoon cloves (optional).

Or you might prefer to mix a cup of milk with a dash of cinnamon and a splash of rose water. If none of these are available set out hot chocolate, grape juice, or a glass of red wine.

Recipe: Create a sensual atmosphere that will entice your inner seductress to come out of hiding. Find a time when no one will disturb you. Turn off the phones. Put fresh sheets on your bed–silk would be great! Turn down the lights, and light the candle. Place a few drops of the essential oil in a diffuser.
Anoint yourself with your favorite perfume, concentrating on the areas between your breasts and near your pubic bone. Lie down on your back with your knees bent and open. Begin to inhale, slowly and deeply, to the count of four; then, exhale in the same manner. Now experience your breathing as if the air were moving through your vulva. Continue until you feel these breaths connecting you to your deepest being. Let the breath flow like a river of energy. Feel the fluidity–the sensuality–and envision a passionate woman inside who wants to talk to you. Imagine that she wants to tell you about herself. Ask her questions: What kinds of clothes does she like? What are her favorite foods? What makes her happy emotionally, physically? What is her relationship with your body? How does she like to be touched? What does she want from you?

Allow this energy–which emanates from your passionate being–to infuse you. Remember this is your own creation, a part of your self, so don’t censor any words or feelings. Be open to learning.
When you’re ready, get up slowly. Run a warm bath, adding the oils of your choice. Start your favorite music, and set the candle near the tub. Let your body melt into the fragrant water, touching yourself in whatever ways feel best.

Afterward, dry off with a warm towel.  Look into a mirror, with the willing ness to see your own beauty.  Take  a few deep cleansing breaths.  When you feel relaxed and ready, look at your face in the mirror.  Just look.  If criticisms or judgments come up, acknowledge them, then let them go.  Focus on the uniqueness that is you, reflected in your face.  Look at your face and body and allow yourself to feel compassion, tenderness, acceptance and love.

Begin putting lotion on your feet, massaging it into the skin.  Say to yourself, “My feet are beautiful.” Next, massage the lotion into your legs and tell yourself, “My legs are beautiful,” and so on up the rest of your body.  When you are finished enjoying the beauty of your body, move on to your face.  Say to yourself, “ My eyes are beautiful.”  Look at your nose and tell yourself, “My nose is beautiful.”  Then your forehead, cheeks, mouth, lips, ears skin, bone structure.

When you have acknowledged your entire body, take a deep breath and look in the mirror.  Tell yourself: “ I (name) am beautiful.”  Say it over and over.  Allow yourself to bathe in appreciation of your own beauty, till you feel the tingle of love and delight throughout your body and soul.  Continue for as long as you wish.

Now, get back into bed, and drink your wonderful tonic. Sip it slowly. Let yourself feel and become that sensual woman. Fantasize, fantasize, fantasize, and immerse yourself in the feeling of hedonistic delight.

Follow-up: Spend a few moments every day appreciating the sensuality of your body. Keep fragrant oils, perfumes, and scented candles in your bedroom and bathroom.

Pagan Holidays for December 17th, 2009

Our Pagan Artist for December is Tom Brown!

Don’t forget to check out his interviews @

Pagan Artist of the Month


Pagan Days for Thursday, December 17th, 2009

Thursday belongs to the deity Thunor, also known as Thor, who is the God of Agriculture and Thunder.


Thursday are Great for Dealing with Matters or Magical Spells & Rituals Concerning:

Passions & Desires—what do you want in your life?

Political Power—you can influence this for yourself or for what you desire on this day.

Speculating & Gambling—someone have a problem? Do you need help or luck?

Legal Matters, Treaties, Oaths—today is a great day to deal with these.

Harvests—perhaps you buy your food and this doesn’t;t matter to you but today you could make sure someone else has a good harvest. Maybe you could see to it that they have a meal for Thanksgiving?


Thursday represents The Planet Jupiter and The Element of Fire.


The Moon Phase

* Waxing Moon Magic *

From seven to fourteen days after the new moon.The waxing moon is for constructive magick, such as love, wealth, success, courage, friendship, luck or health. SOURCE


7 More Days Until Christmas!!!!!!


Now let’s rewind our clocks and take a peek at what our ancestors are doing today.

It just so happens that we have some historical information concerning our present day habit of gift giving during this time of year.

That’s right…today in Rome was the great festival of Saturn which was called Saturnalia!

Saturnalia would go on for 7 whole days. It was a huge celebration that had a little bit of everything!

It is also an historical fact that in Rome— today was the first official and formal day that people could start handing out gifts to others.


Wishing everyone a Pagan Christmas!

See you tomorrow!

C.H. Scarlett


I would have been about fourteen the first time it happened – an experience not of my seeking where a troubled spirit decided she needed to speak through me. My mother gave me a pen and some blank paper and suggested automatic writing as a way of dealing with it. I had a crazy weekend, as Hariet (one r) vented her pain, and then she went away, leaving me feeling rather odd and washed out.

I didn’t actively seek anything like that kind of experience for a long time. There were other incidents when, under stress, things that were not me would slip in – benevolent presences, thankfully.

Then in a planned ritual some years ago, my working group – most of them less experienced than I, sought to channel something through me. I don’t remember much of it. Apparently the first thing I said was ‘I come from between fire and ice’ so perhaps it was a Jotun. It was big, heavy, slow, and it took me days to get over it. A strange experience for me.

It’ something I appear to be quite good at. I’ve not explored it much because I need a working partner where there’s enough trust, mutual understanding and shared inclination to make it really work. But I have channelled on a few occasions… opened myself to deities, male and female, to a fox spirit, land spirits. It works best when there is genuine need.

It doesn’t have to be an all or nothing experience. Channelling is about relationship and communication, opening up to specific energies. I don’t recommend playing at it, or opening and seeing what you get. I suppose it’s a bit like sex – works better where there is trust and familiarity. It is a soul-naked kind of intimacy, and to be taken by force, without your consent is not unlike rape. Have someone to watch your back, who is strong enough to call you home no matter what happens. Go a little way at first, explore, reach out, don’t give entirely of yourself unless the trust is there, and the confidence. It is not a game to play or a thing to do lightly. If it happens to you, that’s one thing, and it becomes necessary to deal with it. Seeking it for the buzz of encountering something occult is dangerous, and the odds of getting a friendly encounter are slim. Be sure of your motives, and do not force yourself upon the world of spirit, not unless you want it to treat you in kind.

Ritual Planning Made Easy

Rituals have been a part of the world as long as humanity has existed.  From the annual celebration of our birth, to our daily behavioral patterns, we have all incorporated basic ritualistic activities in our lives.  Every culture on earth has certain customs they follow for births, weddings, religious rites, and funerals.  These actions, whether they are performed as festivities, for comfort, or out of habit, all have an underlying power that feeds our growth and wisdom.

In a spiritual sense, rituals are one of the most effective and reliable ways for people to honor and commune with the Divine. The act of ceremony not only gives a comfortable structure, but also allows us the time and focus to interact with Spirit and the divinity within ourselves.  Many practicing pagans and witches seem to fall out of ritual observance the longer we spend in the Craft. We begin to shortcut our practice, no longer taking the time and preparation needed to truly give honor to our spiritual path. By taking the quick and easy route, we are cheating ourselves out of the opportunity for great change.

Starhawk, one of the most prolific Goddess authors of our time says, “Any ritual is a chance for transformation.” Whether we are performing ritual to heal ourselves or in tribute, we are creating sacred space in order to change the energy that surrounds us. Each ring of a bell, each sage leaf burned, every prayer spoken, transmutes and re-develops our energy into a higher vibration.  The positive energy we create not only affects our lives, but creates a chain reaction of love and Divine connection which spreads throughout those we know and continues to vibrate throughout the world.

With the traditions in Goddess spirituality there are countless ways to effectively perform ceremony, whether you are working in a group setting or in solitude.  Generally speaking, the most powerful rituals you can perform are those created by your own hand; designed to suit your specific needs, desires, and the level of your spiritual connection.  Each practitioner follows their intuition to a certain degree, as the layout of the ritual is not as important as the faith and love that drive it. However, it is advisable to have a basic structure to follow within all your rites, regardless of purpose.

One of the best basic outlines for rituals, whether for solitary or coven use, is an excerpt from the book “To Ride a Silver Broomstick” by Silver Ravenwolf. It’s simple and to the point, works for personal or Sabbat/Esbat rituals, and is included below:

A.  Ritual Preparation

1.  Define purpose
2.  Write ritual
3.  Gather necessary tools
4.  Prepare area – (cleaning, sage, etc)
5.  Prepare body – (purification bath, donning special clothing/jewelry)

B.  Open Circle

1.  Find true North
2.  Set up Magickal ‘doorway’ / Cast Circle
3.  Call the Watchtowers / Elemental Quarters (East/ Air, South/Fire, West/Water, Earth/North)

C.  Invocation to the deities

1.  Align self with deity (evoke)
2.  Invoke deities

D.  Statement of Purpose

E.  Actual Rite

1.  Working
a.  Complete preliminary manual or visual task
b.  Raise power / energy
c.  Focus power / energy
d.  Ground power / energy

2.  Honoring
a.  Complete preliminary manual or visual task
b.  Dedicate cakes and wine
c.  Partake in cakes and wine

F.  Meditation

G.  Thanking the deities

H.  Closing the Circle

1.  Mentally and verbally dismiss the Quarters/ Close the circle
2.  Physically close the circle
3.  Clean up
a.  Disposal
b.  Washing of plates and glasses
c.  Putting away tools and other implements

There are many reference books you can use to help plan your rituals. Here are a few recommend titles, which are all available for purchase through Amazon .com:

And there are endless online resources available. Try a Google search – not only will you find information for planning your own rituals, but you may find public pagan celebrations in your area.

Blessed Be!

Just a short story…

I thought I’d share a short story I wrote sometime ago…

Play Ball!

The cold wind blew the hem of Kathie’s skirt around her ankles as she strolled down the chilly street on an October night.  She was exiting a nightclub and on her way back home, alone unfortunately.  It was just before midnight.

Where have all the good guys gone? She mused to herself with a disgusted tone.  Rude comments, worn-out lines, and free drinks seem to be the modus operands of most men nowadays.

The emptiness of her suburban home seemed to beckon her back to safety and security, but it also held the promise of another night without any serious chance of romance.  This thought darkened her mind and made her heart thump longingly in her chest.  Another ragged and icy breeze rushed past her, making her clutch at herself to fend off its freezing embrace.

She found her car just where she had parked it, amid lines of other vehicles left by the other patrons of the bar.  Fishing through her purse, a small black affair with studded rhinestones, she sought after her keys.  There was a crunch of gravel behind her; she froze as her imagination took flight into the realms of terror.  A leather clad hand containing a white medicine smelling rag clapped over her mouth, silencing any scream that might have brought aid.

Oh no! she screamed into the wet material as she struggled, but she only helped whatever was coating the handkerchief to fill her spastic lungs.  She lashed back with her left foot, attempting to crush the instep of the person (man?) behind her.  She heard a hiss of pain as the high heel made contact but no other reaction came from it.  He (or she) didn’t let go but gripped her tightly around the waist pinning both arms to her sides.  Frantically she shouted into the handkerchief, but a sudden daze overcame her and her eyes rolled back and her body went limp.

This can’t be happening… Kathie whimpered as darkness closed around her stealing away her consciousness.


Jason Bellows was committing all to memory.  The sun was hot and bright, the sky blue, and the smell of hotdogs and French fries filled the air.  He had just stepped up to the plate, his bat firmly gripped in his young hands.

My first at-bat in the minors! He stated swinging it lazily from side to side.  Staring the pitcher down with brown eyes, just below his soft woolen cap, he was aware of his mind a-buzz over the waiting with breathless anticipation of the delivery, quick judgment on the hit ability of the pitch, and the solid palm-buzzing feel of the bat connecting solidly.

The pitcher wound up and then quickly uncoiled as he hurtled the spinning spheroid towards Jason with a snap of his powerful right arm.  The young twenty year old stepped towards it, adjusted his swing with the trajectory of the ball, and continued his motion with a smile spreading across his face.

It’s perfect! He almost laughed out loud.  It was a memory he looked forward to preserving in his mind, to be shared with his friends and family for years to come.


The sound of the impact echoed in his ears and he completed his twisting motion placing the bat over his left shoulder.  The ball sailed over the pitcher’s head, past second base, and arched into shallow center field.  Jason dropped the wooden object in his hands and sprinted down the chalk line towards first base.  His arms and legs pumped, his body streaking down the line, as each impact of his feet sent pounding tremors up his legs and into his torso.  He kept his eyes glued to the white bag ignoring the loud and rowdy cheers of the shouting hometown fans.  He placed a foot upon first base just before the slap of leather announced that throw from the outfield was too late.

Yes, a base hit! He had exclaimed triumphantly to himself as he came to a slow jogging stop.


Kathie came to with a groggy haze dominating her confused mind.  She moaned as she stirred from her unexpected slumber, her brain trying to piece together what had happened.

I-I fell asleep in the car? She moaned as her eyes fluttered open.  She saw the darkness above her and realized the vague shapes were a girder-supported aluminum ceiling so typical in warehouses and factories.  Her eyes flicked from side to side as the sudden chill creeped through her dress and onto the flesh of her back sending chills up and down her spine.   She tried to move, but the terrifying attempt communicated to her half-dazed brain that she was bond by her wrists and ankles.   Kathie’s fear boiled up inside her and the heat of her terror burned away the last remaining fog in her mind.  She opened her mouth to scream, but found it filled with a wadded up rag and secured by a tight length of nylon rope.  She knew it was nylon; she could both smell and feel its distinctive odor and texture.

Oh crap!  T-that man… he’s captured me! She shrieked inwardly as the cold hand of dread gripped her heart.  W-what’s he going to do?!

As if to answer her question, she saw a tall male shape limp out of the clinging darkness just to her right.  Her body went into powerful convulsions as she threw all her strength into breaking her bounds and making her escape.  But the course fibers of the rope cut into her flesh and pain shot into her skull.  She couldn’t see his face past the black ski mask, his eyes were glittering and bright, and his thick lips were spit-flecked making his tongue dart out to clear it away.

“You’re awake, that’s good,” a low dangerous voice echoed softly from the man’s silhouetted form.  “I was worried I had used too much.”

Kathie shouted into her gag, but none of her words made it past the fabric to be understood by her captor.

“I suppose you’ve heard of me?  I’ve been dubbed the Hyatt Street Killer in the media,” the madman chuckled darkly.  “It is a poor name, but I’ve yet to come up with a better moniker.”

Oh no… h-he can’t be that monster!? She sobbed to herself as he reached for her face.  She recalled the three other women who had been tortured and strangled by the maniac who was prowling the city streets.  He collected his victim’s eyes, the thought of his staring into hers made her flinch from his touch.  She thought they had caught him, but now it appears the news reports were wrong.

“I’m a bit pressed for time, so let us begin shall we?  You have the prettiest eyes…”


Jason looked into the infield and his mouth fell open in shock.  A strange man was leaning over a woman with a knife poised over her face, the two of them were located midway between first and second base.

What’s going on? He asked himself as the rest of the players and crowd seemed oblivious to the scene.  He lifted his left foot, instinctively wanting to rush to the woman’s aid.  But he couldn’t seem to budge; the ballplayer in him knew if he stepped away he could be tagged out.

“Hey what are you doing?  Somebody stop that guy!” he shouted but no one reacted to his words.  “He’s going to kill her!”

He wanted to help, the need thundering along with the beating of his heart.  But still he couldn’t step off first base.  He looked at the guy from the opposing team next to him; the man didn’t seem to notice the tragedy about to occur.

What should I do?  I can’t stand by and let this happen!  I-I don’t want to be the initial out of the inning… oh God what to do! He roared inwardly.  His body reacted despite his mind’s dilemma, Jason felt his foot come off the base as he rushed forward to tackle the killer.


The tip of the knife, shiny and bright, gleamed as it eclipsed Kathie’s vision in her right eye.  She began to sob and cry as she pleaded and begged for the serial killer to show her mercy.  Her gag was halting all attempts to bargain for her life, she shut her eye in a last act of defiance until he wedged it open with cruel, rough fingers.  His other hand was twisted into her long blonde hair and kept her head from moving even an inch.

“Be still!  I must have your beautiful eyes for my collection!” he snarled hatefully as the blade tip edged closer.

Please God no! She wailed as a gray form appeared out of nowhere and passed through the murderer’s body.  She took in the details, as if it happened in slow motion as he sailed over her and into her assailant.  He was young, handsome, with soft brown eyes and a cleft chin.  He wore an off-gray colored uniform that seemed familiar somehow to her frantic mind.  Strangely enough, she could’ve sworn he was wearing cleats.

The effect on her attacker was startling; he stumbled back and spun to his right, his rear making a fleshy thumping sound on the hard concrete.  He swore loud and vehemently as he stood up shaking with all the furious ire of a wounded lion.   The long dagger flicked from side to side as he sought out the intruder who had crashed his private party.

“Stop right there!” a quivering unfamiliar voice called out from beyond Kathie’s line of sight.  She watched the Hyatt Street Killer spin towards the shout and raise the glittering blade.


The gunshot made Kathie’s ears ring and she saw her would-be slayer spin to the ground his chest tore apart by a single shot.  He took one ragged, bloody breath and then lay still.

Relief coursed through her veins, her muscles relaxed and she began sobbing in joy as the miracle of her rescue came to realization.  A heavy-set old man wearing a gray security officer’s uniform walked towards her, his pistol still smoking from being discharged.  He knelt down and quickly undid her bindings.

“Are you okay Miss?” he asked in a nervous voice.

“Yes!  Thank you!” she cried out and hugged her savior.

“Take it easy little girl.  I gotta call the cops!”

“What about the other guy?”

“He’s dead,” the man flatly remarked with a tone of disgust.

“Not the guy you shot,” she insisted as she clambered to her feet.  “But the one who tackled him?”

She looked around but saw no other person nearby, she was puzzled, did she dream it?

“There’s nobody here but you, me, and that… that… one!”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re just confused.”

“He was wearing an old baseball uniform.”

“What did you say?” the man asked with a serious expression overtaking the previous worried one he had been wearing.

“It was like in those old sports movies from the forties and fifties,” Kathie explained.

“Well this place used to be a baseball park, but that was years before I was even born,” the man stated as he tipped the bill of his hat up.


Three weeks after being attacked and saved from the Hyatt Street Killer, Kathie stood in an old section of a cemetery with a dozen roses in her hand.  She had spent the time off from work researching both online and at the local library.  Now, after all her efforts, she faced the grave marker of a man she had never met.

“Jason Bellows, born 1932, died 1953,” she whispered, her words whipped behind her along with the steam of her breath.  “I don’t know how this happened, or how you were able to help save me, but I wanted to say thank you.”

She knelt down, said a short prayer, and set the roses on the grave.  Tears sprung up in her eyes as she recalled reading the newspaper article about how this man had suffered a fatal heart attack while trying to steal second base in his first minor league game.  The wet droplets streamed down her face as she recalled he had died before learning of his young bride’s pregnancy, the family he would never know, or the life he had saved on one late October night over sixty years after his death.  She stood up and wiped away her tears with trembling fingers.

“Yeah, what are you doing?” a male voice inquired from behind her.  She turned around to see a man about her age, a wreath in his hands.

“Oh I’m sorry…,” she started to say as she looked into his eyes.  He had a cleft chin, soft brown eyes, and a strong handsome face.  She let out an unexpected gasp as she immediately spotted the family resemblance.

“Who are you?” she asked softly.

“Trevor Bellows,” he answered with narrowing, suspicious eyes. “That’s my grandfather’s grave you’re standing near.”

“It is?”

“Yes, he died before my father was born.  He was a baseball player, yeah it was minor league but it was his passion and dream to play for the Yankees.”

“Hey this might sound a little crazy and a bit forward.  But would you like to go get some coffee with me?  After you’re done, of course,” she said with a smile.

“S-sure,” he stammered with a blush creeping into his cheeks.  “I’d like that…”

How to build a better villain…

How to Build a Better Villain by Christopher Newman

Ask any actor and they’ll tell you the heavy (i.e. villain) is the meatiest role.  So we, as Pagans, know the cruelty of such characters from history, film, novels and real life.  But how do you build a better, believable villain in your books?  Well lucky you…I can help.

Oh it’s not ego, just a matter of observation and practice.  They come in all shapes, sizes and colors.  Cunning cads, disturbing demons and lovely fem fatales.  Hey, it isn’t easy being evil, that’s the best part.  Evil for evil’s sake is too bland and blasé so you have to be creative.  Here’s a recipe I use occasionally.

1.  Stubborn to a fault is the base of our stew.  Nothing beats an antagonist who is both firm in his/her beliefs and knows the ends justify the means.  No matter of logic or counter-argument can sway him/her.  He/She’s not dumb, the villain has thought this through to it’s “logical” conclusion.

2.  A sense of humor is always nice, let’s add that too.

3.  Choose between darkly charismatic, foully unkempt, military (or quasi-military) strict, hideously ugly or several other options…grade it properly as to not become to cliché.

4.  Avoid stereotypes!  A ponytail wearing evil magician has been done to death…

5.  Nervous mannerisms (always pushing up his/her glasses), eye twitches, etc make all characters unique, but in a villain it can announce to the reader that mayhem is going to follow.

6.  Stir gently and bring to an even heat.  A villain’s sanity/power/plans must not rush too fast in the pace unless the manuscript calls for the heroes to be unbalanced.

7.  Scoop out the ridiculous (eyes opening at the end of the novel like some poorly written 1980s horror film).

8.  Accomplices sparingly dripped in to the mix.  Oh and by the way nothing adds to the spice of a villain as someone (or thing) that admires him/her greatly—for all the wrong reasons.  Or one that hates him and wants his job….

9.  Name him/her… everything, and I mean everything, the very success of the character can hang on a name.  Flopsie the Ghoul Master just doesn’t cut it…

10.  Ladle in a great back-story…why is he/she this way?  Is it believable?  Too much fantasy will make your scoundrel stew curdle.

11.  A pinch of “who does he/she serve?” for as Bob Dylan sang, “Everybody serves somebody” (or at least I think that’s what he sang…)

12.  Vampires don’t sparkle…oh wait that’s another topic.

13.  Taste it… would you be afraid of him/her?  If not add a dash more cruelty and liberally sprinkle in socially inappropriate beliefs.

14.  Almost done now… take another taste.  Afraid yet? No, add more of ingredient 13.

15.  Twist in a twist (somebody’s gonna hurt somebody—before the night is through!)  Eddie the Homicidal Manic has a soft spot for puppies… and removing the heads of nurses.

16.  Pour this steaming cauldron over your manuscript and watch the steam rise.  Ah! Smell that?  Scoundrels are the spice of a manuscript’s life.

In closing you have to remember that the good guy/gal is bound by several rules and moral conditions.  He/She will walk the righteous path, follow most laws and take the heroic stand.  Villains are not so restrained.  If you feel that “Whoa I don’t think that’s fair” happens when you pen an act by a villain…you’re on the right track.  Consider this, poor Bob Ziegler gets fired at a film shoot on recommendation of an actress who he turns down for a date.  Then he goes home to find his girlfriend in bed with his best friend.  Ousted out of his apartment now he needs cash and most of all a camera to shoot his masterpiece, get famous and get the girl back.  Enter the villain… smiling, knowing and ready for him.  You need that old Super-8 recorder?  Oh you’re broke?  Hey I’ll give it to you if you film that hottie next door tomorrow morning.  She likes to work out in skimpy attire and I’m too old to hold the camera steady.  You’ll do it?  Great!

Later on…

Oh you say you have hideous painful tattoos all over your body from using it?  I know just how to get rid of them, darn I’m so sorry this happened.  How?  Well my research shows that if you shoot the scenes of demonic pleasures depicted on your flesh I bet they’d disappear off.  Good question, where ever are we going to find such willing actors and actress?  Of course you’re right!  The porn industry!  My mama taught me how to brew up a special brew that’ll make ‘em forget what they’re doing.  Inhuman?  Not in the least they’ll be just fine.  Immoral?  Well I hate to break it to you friend but those tattoos are going be there until you die.  They hurt?  I bet they look painful!  I know you think it’s kind of perverse but they’re only porn actors, who’ll miss ‘em?….for more on this see “Get Into the Spirit, Baby” from Dark Roast Press.

Ritual Magic

We make our celebratory circle,

From clothes, hurriedly cast off,

Thrown aside in all directions.

Then skyclad only, we meet,

In the centre of this sacred space,

Connecting heart to heart, skin on skin.

This is the ritual of our passion,

We practice the same moves,

Honed to perfection over time,

Become poetry through repetition.

My offerings to you, with joyous lips.

Your fingered offerings to me returned.

We take each other into the depths,

Of this most ancient mystery.

The wonder of joining, of finding

Each other and losing ourselves

All over again.

Time outside of time we make here,

Space claimed from mundane use,

Transforming all into wonder.

We honour the primal rhythms,

And the gods of creation.

Divinity revealed in your lifted horn,

Goddess wisdom in my arousal.

Somewhere beyond the frenzy

Of stags in the rutting season,

After this song of reproduction ends,

There waits a place of peace

A still time, a secret time,

When neither moves nor breathes,

An infinity between heart beats.

Then my soul touches yours,

Touches all things, knows all things.

In love with all existence,

We float awhile, embracing.

The moment passes.

Perfect in its fleeting beauty.

One soul divides between two bodies.

We unmake our circle, so must it be.

Gathering up scattered clothes,

To hide exquisite skin once more,

To unweave the boundaries set

Between our world and the other one,

Between dreams and cold living.

Unfetter the power raised here,

And let it flow beyond our circle

To do as it will, as it must.

There is no other enchantment

Comparable to this, no spell,

To change my life as utterly

As you have done.