Father Of Creation Divine Mother

We sit at thy lotus feet in celebration of the consciousness you left us,
the Universal intelligence present in every atom of creation.

Let us all unite and throw away the chains of dogma,
that all people, from all walks of life, unite in truth.

We understand the point of religion isn't to have blind faith,
rather direction perception and experience,
that is why we sit here today,
so that we may directly experience our birthright,
the Christ Consciousness.

Bless all with the strength to sit with you for the whole time,
may this not feel like a burden to anyone that attempts it,
we do this with love, and free will.

We are sitting because we want too, in honor.
We use our free will to sit with thee,
you do not have to play hide and seek anymore,
this is our choice.

One thing we are not, oh Divine mother, are beggars.
We will not sit here and beg things of you,
We are your sons and daughters!

We only demand for what is ours!
What you created for us,
your love.

May your presence be felt as we sit in silence,
giving thanks to the consciousness you left us,
a road map back to your kingdom.

May you bless not only all that are attempting to sit with you,
but every sentient being.

Peace, Aum, Amen

Love, peace, compassion and respect
-wishy

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A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

by William Blake

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Someone Princess Someone Shame

by Roy Rindom

So young and tender pure at heart
She walks the street alone at night
Waiting for a John to bite.
It's the only life she ever knew
So take your fondle, kiss or screw
There's no time to play this game
Someone's princess -- someone's shame.

I need to see some paper first
So watch your hands before you pay
Give it up, or I'm on my way
His name is John and she takes his dough
Shit. He's yelling "Start the show!"
The names never change on any given night
A Pro / A Whore / even Bum
The one that hurts is a Little scum
He doesn't care what she's Called
There's no time to hear her name
Someone's princess -- Someone's shame.

She dares not think how it all started
Lives are ruined with families parted
At thirteen she's young and sweet
What great Friends are on the street
Trust me / Take this / Listen here
At night it's always "be my dear"
There's no time to lay the blame
Someone's princess -- Someone's shame.

Now fourteen -- one year older
Much more callous, even bolder
Her hips, her walk speak that beat
She's a lady of the street
The clothes have changed throughout the year
First champagne; now it's beer
How she's grown since she first started
Damn that day the family parted
This world's unfair and barely tame
Someone's princess -- Someone's shame.

Now fifteen; it's been two years
Oh my God she's lost her fears
She's slept with women and two men
On the street there's no pretend
My, her heart is filled with pain
Someone's princess -- Someone's shame.

How much longer will she last
For on the street you age so fast
She's not allowed to show her tears
They are only hurts and fears
Then one night with a sigh
She felt a peace deep inside
Reminiscing how she started
That fateful day the family parted
For on the street there is no game
Someone's princess -- Someone's shame.

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The Shepherd

"How sweet is the shepherd’s sweet lot!
From the morn to the evening he strays;
He shall follow his sheep all the day,
And his tongue shall be filled with praise.

For he hears the lambs’ innocent call,
And he hears the ewes’ tender reply;
He is watchful while they are in peace,
For they know when their shepherd is nigh."

by William Blake

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The Keepers Of Imbolc

(by: Deva A.M. Bluewing)

In silence they gather
Black robed against the Blacker
Waning Winter night
Tapers aglow with Faerie FyreThey descend from the high forestsTo the gentle fields of farming folkBecause the time draws nigh

Clasping each the other's hands
They dance through the darkness
All to-ing-and-fro-ing
With upturned faces
(Common eye hath never seen)

Faint silver-blueShimmering grows about themThe air is electricFertile with Love, Pregnant with Life

Beneath the soft white Quilting
Within the womb of Earth
The shimmering penetrates
Calling
A seed's shell
Cracks!

Blue-silver fading
Hands thrown high
In the instant b'twixt night and light
Dancing shadows dissolve
And upon the Sun's first ray
A whispered, "So Mote It Be...

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The Chimney Sweeper

When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue,
Could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep,
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.

There’s little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
That curl’d like a lambs back was shav’d, so I said.
Hush Tom never mind it, for when your head’s bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair

And so he was quiet. & that very night.
As Tom was a sleeping he had such a sight
That thousands of sweepers Dick, Joe, Ned, & Jack
Were all of them lock’d up in coffins of black,

And by came an Angel who had a bright key
And he open’d the coffins & set them all free.
Then down a green plain leaping laughing they run
And wash in a river and shine in the Sun.

Then naked & white, all their bags left behind.
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind.
And the Angel told Tom, if he’d be a good boy,
He’d have God for his father & never want joy.

And so Tom awoke and we rose in the dark
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Tho’ the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

by William Blake

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Paganistic Poem

By Daniel Edmonds

Go ahead and talk about us, as we seem to make you doubt,
Because God has condemned us by what we can't live without.
Preach at us when we draw near just like all Christians do.
But don't come running back to us when spirits walk on through.

We freeze your conversations when we pass you on the street,
If only we saw your true God, oh wouldn't that be sweet
We may well be exploited by your taunts forevermore
But we will not be swayed from the things we most adore.

We endured with admiration of our gods through burning days
And salvaged what we could from our true Karmic Phrase
To say what we believe is wrong, you really have some nerve
We deserve some freedom from the one you claim to serve.

Say that we are sinners, as we have no common sense?
As if we'd copy what you do at our own self-expense!
You look up at your "true" god to receive his holy smile,
It doesn't mean that we agree, or will change our pagan style.

You can laugh at our starvation, and our divining games,
But know that when we rest at last, our time will come again
You've picked up quite the story, likely brainwashed from the womb,
What happened to love thy neighbor - you've been corrupted, but by whom?

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The Benevolent Witch

With friendly wand awhirling air
And kindly smile without a care,
A plump stripped cat in her abode
'Next a croaking green and warty toad,
A long haired whimsical wonderful witch
Completes a spell without a hitch.
And laughing joy and turn around
To bring her love to earth abound.
Deosil thrice and widdershins
Bind and hold and wash of sins,
Til this age is safely kept
And no more tears of pain are wept.

Authored and contributed by Toadie

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The Dark Realms

Through the mists of other worlds,
Through the veil between,
Come to me in dream and trance,
Come by means unseen.

Lead me through the barren land,
Where leaves and needles fall,
Lead me to the darkened heath,
Where ghosts and demons call.

Take me to the world beyond,
A world of stick and bone,
Take me to the shadow realms,
The dwelling of the crone.

Let me see the well of death,
The cauldron of decay,
Let me come to know the hag,
Once crowned the 'Queen of May'.

Wisest Hecate, dark Calleach,
Who bring us loss and pain,
Lead us through the door of death,
That we may rise again.

From 'Mrs Darley's Pagan Whispers' by Carole Carlton

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The Sick Rose

O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm.
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

by William Blake

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Heathen Gods And Rites Some Frequently Asked Questions

Book: Heathen Gods And Rites Some Frequently Asked Questions by The Troth

Our gods belong to two "tribes", the Aesir and the Vanir. Our myths speak of a time when the Aesir and Vanir were at war, but made a truce and exchanged members. This myth may be based in part on Historical battles between human tribes who later formed an alliance; at the same time, it reflects the ways in which our gods work Together. Perhaps the best-known of the Aesir is Odin.

He is the god of many things: inspiration, ecstasy, poetry, healing, the runes, and death. Frigga, whom we see as Odin’s wife, protects homes and families. Thor is the storm-god who defends the world of humans. The lightning is his weapon, the Hammer; the rain that he brings makes the fields fruitful. Tyr is the upholder of right order and justice, both among humans and in the universe. Heimdall is the watchman of the gods, and also the progenitor and teacher of the human race.

The Vanir are sometimes called "fertility gods", but they are far more than that; they are the gods of all the things in this world that we are meant to enjoy, whether good harvests, sexual love, or riches. Frey is invoked for peace and plenty; he and Odin were also the founders and protectors of many dynasties of Heathen kings. His sister Freya rules over magic, sexuality, and riches, but is also a battle goddess—she takes half of those slain in battle to be with her. Their father Njordh watches over the sea, ships, sailors, and trade.

The Jotnar or "giants" are a third group of Powerful beings. Many of our myths tell of fights between the gods and the giants. However, the Jotnar are not "evil" as the word is usually understood. On one level, some of the Jotnar represent the impersonal forces of nature: not malicious, but sometimes destructive, and not especially heedful of human concerns. Yet others of them are depicted as wise and helpful. In fact, some giants have been adopted among the gods, and nearly all our gods have giants in their ancestry.

Download The Troth's eBook: Heathen Gods And Rites Some Frequently Asked Questions

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Ariadia Or A Gospel Of The Witches

Book: Ariadia Or A Gospel Of The Witches by Charles Godfrey Leland

Aradia, or the Gospel of the Witches is an 1899 book by Charles Godfrey Leland. The book is an attempt to portray the beliefs and rituals of an underground religious witchcraft tradition in Tuscany that, Leland claimed, had survived for centuries until his discovery of its existence in the 1890s. Scholars have disputed the veracity of this claim. Still, the book has become one of the foundational texts of the Neopagan witchcraft movements Wicca and Stregheria.

The text is a composite. Some of it is Leland's translation into English of an original Italian manuscript, the Vangelo (gospel). Leland reported receiving the manuscript from his primary informant on Italian witchcraft beliefs, a woman Leland referred to as "Maddalena" and whom he called his "witch informant" in Italy. The rest of the material comes from Leland's research on Italian folklore and traditions, including other related material from Maddalena. Leland had been informed of the Vangelo's existence in 1886, but it took Maddalena eleven years to provide him with a copy. After translating and editing the material, it took another two years for the book to be published. Its fifteen chapters portray the origins, beliefs, rituals and spells of an Italian pagan witchcraft tradition. The central figure of that religion is the goddess Aradia, who came to Earth to teach the practice of witchcraft to peasants in order for them to oppose their feudal oppressors and the Catholic Church.

Leland's work remained obscure until the 1950s, when other theories about, and claims of, "pagan witchcraft" survivals began to be widely discussed. Aradia began to be examined within the wider context of such claims. Scholars are divided, with some dismissing Leland's assertion regarding the origins of the manuscript, and others arguing for its authenticity as a unique documentation of folk beliefs. Along with increased scholarly attention, Aradia came to play a special role in the history of Gardnerian Wicca and its offshoots, being used as evidence that pagan witchcraft survivals existed in Europe, and because a passage from the book's first chapter was used as a part of the religion's liturgy. After the increase in interest in the text, it became widely available through numerous reprints from a variety of publishers, including a 1999 critical edition with a new translation by Mario and Dina Pazzaglini.

Download Charles Godfrey Leland's eBook: Ariadia Or A Gospel Of The Witches

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Household Gods Comedy

Book: Household Gods Comedy by Aleister Crowley

"The Household," a one-act Comedy that makes readers roar With laughter, is eaxctly one of those masterpieces by This important Bristish writer that needs to be rediscovered by contemporary readers.

Download Aleister Crowley's eBook: Household Gods Comedy

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Snow

Goddess is beautiful dressed in white
The tiny white crystals that fall through the night
They fall so gentle, don't make a sound
As they drift to Earth and lay on the ground

Looking up, snow melts on my face
as I leave behind the hectic pace
I'm in another world, one of love
communing with the Goddess above

Drawing the power from all around me
one with Her, I truely wish to be
This is the quest for which I strive
It is my reason for being alive

Standing alone, staring at the sky
I feel a tear coming to my eye
The feeling of peace is awesome you see
I feel the Goddess surrounding me

(C) 1989 - Steve Earl

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Echoes From The Gnosis Vol X The Hymn Of The Robe Of Glory

Book: Echoes From The Gnosis Vol X The Hymn Of The Robe Of Glory by George Robert Stowe Mead

The Hymn of the robe of glory is also known as the Hymn of the pearl and belongs to the Acts of Thomas, which were written in Edessa around 225. The hymn narrates how a prince encounters the ‘robe’ which he had left behind ‘at home’ (in heaven):

At once, as soon as I saw it,
The Glory looked like my own self.

The idea of the mirror image as a spiritual double can also be found in Mani, and in the Gospel of Thomas (logos 84), part of the Nag Hammadi discovery of 1945:

When you see your likeness you rejoice.
But when you see your images
which came into being before you,
and which neither die nor become manifest,
how much you will have to bear!

Echoes from the Gnosis(1906) is a series of monographs under the title Echoes from the Gnosis (recently republished in a centennial edition) summarizing his insights into the formation of the Gnostic world-view. By this time Mead had published eight works on various aspects of the early Christian world and on “The Theosophy of the Greeks.” Together with his outstanding translations of the Hermetic books, these works established his reputation as one of the foremost English scholars in his broadly chosen fields. Mead was the first modern scholar of Gnostic tradition. A century later, the corpus of his work remains unequaled in breadth and insight.

Download George Robert Stowe Mead's eBook: Echoes From The Gnosis Vol X The Hymn Of The Robe Of Glory

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Riding The Black Horse

(By: Holly Solt)

While visiting the stars by the dark lake last night
I was sitting on a rock that was bathed in pale moonlight

Along the rocky shore did I see a running child
who stopped where I was seat, said "hallo..." and then smiled

He asked if I believed in fairy folk, did I...
I answered him "of course" and he winked his little eye

He asked me if I ever talked to one, somehow
I leaned forward and whispered "you mean, before just now?"

Then a foggy mist rolled in and covered up the shore
covered up the sky till I could see no more

I heard the horse's breathing as it raced across the sand
and it scared me something awful when someone grabbed my hand

and pulled me high upon the horse as it passed my sitting place
while wind blew fast and cold and damp as if we were running a race

then we stopped and I looked up and saw a mountain's wall
the fog did lift, I turned and looked and saw a man so tall

His hair and beard were colored all red like sunset's skies
and springtime's green of new born leaves were the color of his eyes

He pointed at the mountain & said, "make you not a sound,
while the black horse takes us safely to a more familiar ground"

Then, we walked right through that mountain! As is there were no wall
And once inside was blackness, no sound...no light...at all

I could barely take a breath, I was blind and could not see
was like a blanket of nothing had wrapped itself round me

Then, the most amazing thing, the most amazing sight
we walked out of that mountain into a land of light

I blinked my eyes and squinted the colors were so bright
it confused my very senses was this not still night?

We slid off of the horse and it slowly walked away
then there were many things that the sunset man did say...

I remember seeing children of all the different races
I remember there was love in all the people's faces

I could choose to be alone with the colors everywhere
If I did not understand a thing, the sunset man was there

I woke up in the morning at first a little mad
when I realized it all was just a dream I had

But then I got to thinking of the horse and of the light
and the sunset man who's taken me to see them in the night

and I figured it was something, that I was supposed to tell
otherwise, I wouldn't have remembered it so well

So, do not fear the mountains...and do not fear the night...
Sometimes we walk through darkness, before we see the light.

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The Goddess Is Alive

Moon shines down upon a sea of Light,
Shifting sands lay singing in the Heart of the Night.
I looked upon a scene that gripped me to the core,
White-clad maidens below were dancing on the shore.

Sweet sounds slipped from moon-lit throats,
Wind whipped hair abound,
Lit by the light within and without,
The Women circled 'round.

As I stood, water engulfed my feet,
My body swayed to your Heavenly Heart beat.
Wind and wave and fire light,
Paled in my mind Earthly delight.

Time slipped by me as you held your embrace,
And windblown spray covered my face.
Protected deep within your Womb,
I could feel the tender pain of Life's bloom.

Candles flared high as the Dance progressed,
Deep inside with a healing touch you blessed.
All around, wind, wave and fire shouted of your life,
Your light speared deep within, soothing my strife.

Divine Mother, Goddess of Light,
To you I come seeking protection from the night.
Come home to shelter within your arm,
Surrounded by Love, hidden from harm.

Holy Mother, Queen of Heaven and Earth,
From you we all trace our Birth.
Heavenly Goddess, light from above,
Shine down upon us, we pray for your Love.

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A Tree Song

by Rudyard Kipling

Of all the trees that grow so fair,
Old England to adorn,
Greater is none beneath the sun,
Than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn.
Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs,
(All of a Midsummer morn!)
Surely we sing of no little thing,
In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Oak of the Clay lived many a day,
Or ever Aeneas began.
Ash of the Loam was a Lady at home,
When Brut was an outlaw man.
Thorn of the Down saw New Troy Town
(From which was London born);
Witness hereby the ancientry
Of Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Yew that is old in churchyard-mould,
He breedeth a mighty bow.
Alder for shoes do wise men choose,
And beech for cups also.
But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled,
And your shoes are clean outworn,
Back ye must speed for all that ye need,
To Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth
Till every gust be laid,
To drop a limb on the head of him
That any way trusts her shade.
But whether a lad be sober or sad,
Or mellow with wine from the horn,
He will take no wrong when he lieth along
'Neath Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!
Oh, do not tell the priest our plight,
Or he would call it a sin;
But--we have been out in the woods all night,
A-conjuring Summer in!
And we bring you good news by word of mouth --
Good news for cattle and corn --
Now is the Sun come up from the south,
With Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
(All of a Midsummer morn)!
England shall bide till Judgement Tide,
By Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

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Echoes From The Gnosis Vol Iv The Hymn Of Jesus

Book: Echoes From The Gnosis Vol Iv The Hymn Of Jesus by George Robert Stowe Mead

The hymn of Jesus is part of the Acts of the apostle John, a text rejected at the second council of Nicaea (787). Mead thought it was ‘almost certain’ that the hymn was actually a mystery rite, and ‘possibly the earliest Christian rite to have survived’. Modern scholars still think this is a very plausible suggestion and assume the intention was to meditate on the text and reach an altered state of consciousness. The Hymn of Jesus in Mead’s version was set to music by the composer Gustav Holst in 1916.

Echoes from the Gnosis(1906) is a series of monographs under the title Echoes from the Gnosis (recently republished in a centennial edition) summarizing his insights into the formation of the Gnostic world-view. By this time Mead had published eight works on various aspects of the early Christian world and on “The Theosophy of the Greeks.” Together with his outstanding translations of the Hermetic books, these works established his reputation as one of the foremost English scholars in his broadly chosen fields. Mead was the first modern scholar of Gnostic tradition. A century later, the corpus of his work remains unequaled in breadth and insight.

Download George Robert Stowe Mead's eBook: Echoes From The Gnosis Vol Iv The Hymn Of Jesus

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George Robert Stowe Mead - Echoes From The Gnosis Vol X The Hymn Of The Robe Of Glory
George Robert Stowe Mead - Echoes From The Gnosis Vol I The Gnosis Of The Mind
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George Robert Stowe Mead - Echoes From The Gnosis Vol Iv The Hymn Of Jesus

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Introduction To The Elder Edda

Book: Introduction To The Elder Edda by John Ronald Tolkien

The Elder Edda is not a single continuous narrative, but a collection of poems, most of which are preserved in the Konungsbok, or Codex Regius (King's Book), copied in Iceland about A.D. 1270. The poems are the work of many poets. Their language suggests that they were composed between 800 and 1100 A.D. and first written down between 1150 and 1250 A.D. The poems are a rich source of Information for culture and belief among the Vikings. They are not, however, purely Scandinavian. Christian Irish influence is likely, while the Sigurd story draws on actual events among the tribes that invaded the Roman Empire between 350-600 A.D.

The Elder Edda first came to scholarly attention in the seventeenth century as antiquarian interest in the non-classical past was growing in Europe. It was published in its entirety just as intense romantic and nationalistic interest in the perceived tribal ancestors of the European nation states emerged towards the end of the eighteenth century. This interest, combined with the new science of philology, ensured popular and scholarly interest in texts like the Elder Edda. Some of the lays were available in bowdlerized versions even for children by the later nineteenth century. In the hands of Richard Wagner, the Elder Edda became the foundation of one of the century's masterpieces. While northern legends and the Scholarship based on it were misused by the Nazis to develop and further their ideas of race, they are seriously misrepresented by such ideas. In the 1960s, the poet W. H. Auden in collaboration with an Old Norse scholar, Paul B. Taylor, produced a Translation of sixteen of the poems.

Download John Ronald Tolkien's eBook: Introduction To The Elder Edda

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