In The Name of The Pentagram: A Witch's Grimoire Entry #1

I find myself in frequent need of a spiritual bath, floor wash or tea. I know most grimoires separate the three, but if a herbological solution can be used on the skin, it can be consumed. Do not be fooled Witches! Most Godmothers, Iyas, Coven Mothers or spiritual guides exploit the aspirant's need for remedy and milk you for your last penny. While no spiritual work is free, for the sake of honoring and appreciating the Source's energy, there's no need to make simples complicated. So the following recipe can and should be used for all that fall into the category of its title, big or small. Drink it! Dress your candles with it! (dry, of course) Bathe in it! If you can afford to do so, bathe in it daily! Put it in a spray bottle, spritz it! Remember, Witches, there's no such thing as little quantities doing large jobs when making a solution. There is no such thing as a splash of solution in mopping water spiritually cleansing the entire room. The water in the bucket dilutes it. So again, mop with it! You should smell it in the room. I use a half to a cup of each ingredient, depending on the size of my crockpot, and when it's gone, I simply make more. 

I purchase all of, or most of, my simples from Amazon.com. They sell large quantities for reasonable prices. They have nearly everything you'd need for a rootworking task. Do not be fooled by the bang for your buck! I have killed a large pesky demonic intruder with this recipe using Amazon products. But I'll blog about that later. When unpackaging, do so while hopeful and grateful. Meditate on your intentions for the spell while blending the dry leaves. If inclined, pray! (no matter your religion) I do so "In The Name of The Pentagram". Enjoy Pythonissam! 🤟🏾🧙🏽‍♀️🕯🔮🕯

BE GONE DEMONS
Rue - cleansing
Hyssop - cleansing
Sage - cleansing (crushed white sage leaves but crushed incense is useful while in a pinch)
Sweet Basil - self protection
Anise Star - strengthen spell's consciousness (booster)

Illusion of Karma

Self-esteem is an illusion, designed as a trap by the Universe.
There is no law.
There is no rhyme nor reason.
We can not accomplish our dreams nor our goals.
That also is an illusion.
Our reality is that we will never find what it is that we are seeking.
Burn the map.
Heroes or role models are con artists and liars.
Your fate will always be in the hands of the one that hates you the most.
Give in!
Submit!
Die!
We can do nothing.
There is no I.
There is no sanctuary.
There is no hope.
Faith is pointless.
Trust is illogical.
Love is fruitless.
Mask!
Mask!
Mask!
They can not shame you if you shame yourself.
Do not love I.
I is your detriment, your enemy.
Die!
Do not believe.
Do not hope.
But most importantly, do not wish.
Their love is opposite.
Their language is silent.
Their strength is in your weakness.
Die!
Sense has no sense.
Love is loveless.
Wooing is for the crook.
Submission is for the lover.
Do not want.
Do not pursue.
Do not work.
Do not try.
It is for the dead.
There is no such thing or land as Opportunity.
Your fate is in the hands of the one that hates you the most.
Stupidity is gold.
Intelligence is death.
Die!
Speech begets death.
Spirit and the pursuit thereof begets trials and tribulations.
Do not read.
Do not write.
Do not listen.
Do to watch.
Do not believe.
Die!
Do not hope for the best.
Karma is dead!!!!!
No one lays victim to her.
She does not exist.
Do not hope for her.
Do not call to her.
She has no line of communication to thee!
Master nothing!
Craft does not exist.
Work is not Great.
Triumph is the hope of children.
Know that no one is keeping score.
Victory is random.
There are not chosen.
Let no one change a word nor exclude it.
Champion is a lie.
Honor, a lie.
Respect, a lie.
Destroy.
Loyalty is a lie.
Peace is a lie.
War is God.
Spoils are spoils.
To have is to win.
Fame is a lie.
Mightiness is the possession of the weak.
Power is the unspoken.
Pain is the unspoken.
Hardships are the unspoken.
Know me, know we, by what is not said.
Die!

The Rogue Angel : Entry #1

She sat quietly in her a chair in the coven courtroom, on trial, listening intently, though her legs were spread shoulder width apart, elbows resting upon her knees, fingers interlocked and eyes fixed to the floor and as usual wings lowered, crossed, covering her rear end.

"For heavens sake, have the due respect of a child and appear before me humbled", barked The Coven Mother.

Deity, pronounced as one would Aphrodite, was accustomed to browbeatings on the weekly and at times daily basis. She trembled in anger knowing the expectation was to hold her tongue but her being would not withstanding the beating, at least, that's what It told her so through her nervous disruption. She spoke the truth.

"If you had wings you wouldn't feel so disrespected by the mere sight of me, Mother." Coven Mother immediately rose to her feet.

"What on Earth did your audacity just utter child?" She points condemningly to Deity. "You're wings are a sign of unholiness, rebel, and you would not have them were it not for your tendency to wander to dark places unattended by your Governing Witch!"

"She doesn't feel a need for my governance Dear Mother. We worship and work with those who look like she", interjected her governess, Terra. The Coven Mother made note and sat slowly.

"Granted", added Coven Mother, "but you were instructed at the time of her infantile discovery that she should be kept away from such things and raised in only the ways and morality of The Light Craft."

"Which Terra has done unfailingly Love", added The Coven Father, a scarce contribution to such matters. He adored Deity, secretly. One of four wizards to a coven of one hundred, he fathered Deity despite his wife's belligerent approval of the coven's adopting her when she was found in the woods alone, unswaddled, undiapered, unfed and crying at three months old.

"Keep The Pact of Coven Peace and disguise your flight", The Coven Father added. Deity unbagged and put on her hooded cloak, then sits erect, staring fiercely at The Coven Mother. The Coven Mother would have saw it fit to change her name upon her adoption and would have done so in a Catholic fashion if “Deity” weren't tattooed on the nape of the infant's neck at the highest of her spinal cord. If it weren't for the fervent effortf of The Coven Father to honor It and The Pentagram, The Coven Mother would be administering weekly and some times daily lectures of respect and submission, concluding verdicts and sentencing to a Mary or Prudence or better yet, Agnes.

"So she has, pardon the accusation Governess", The Coven Mother continued, "But Terra, you know the child best,"

"I will be 18 this Summer Equinox", interrupted Deity.

"Silence Child!", yelled The Coven Father. He turned to his wife to finish the sentencing. 

The verdict was ruled that Deity was guilty of unauthorized access and usage to and of magickal chambers, potions and utensils, which counted as charges of theft, totaling eight; five potions, one goat, a pocket knife and chalk. Deity began her silent treatment once informed that the charge for chalk was valid. And one charge of conspiracy, conjuring her angelic family of birth was forbidden.

"Again, Governess, you know the child best. Which punishment suits her?"

Deity assumed her original slouch in her chair and rolled her lowered head over to have her Governess in sight. The common courtesy of looking at the defendant during judgement was not returned. Deity supposed it didn't matter that sixteen of twenty four hours were spent under Terra’s supervision, when she wasn't instructing, because now, Terra won't bother to look her in the eye.

"The child hates my natural magic. Earth Magick is her least favorite and therefore her weakest subject. I recommend the brigs of the lower caverns. She'd struggle to escape for awhile. I estimate that we'd only have seventy hours between her imprisonment and her being trapped in a cavern wall. Then it's a death sentence Covern Mother. I am displeased with her trouble making but I dont want the child to die Mother", humbly adds Terra, finally looking at Deity.

"Nor do I", adds their Coven Father. Coven Mother sighs, discouraged with her options or lack thereof.

"My Lord, what are we to do with the child?", she asks her spouse of seventy five years. The Coven Father eyes the coven's prized possession, though it was unbeknownst to Deity. He sighs and twiddles his thumbs. With his chin to his chest he nods and then looks to Deity, “Ninety six hours in her personal chambers,"

"Ninety six hours?", yells Deity.

"Yes, deviant, ninety six hours", he says as a matter of fact, now rectifying his posture, "and now with no rations." Deity's confusion met with sensed betrayal made her stomach turn. Coven Father notices, "You're plump enough Child, you can afford it. Closing Off rituals every hour for the escape artist and visits by the Gremlin every twelve, since she must work so fervently. And the guilt of shaming fire and all that Is by absence at Beltane."

"Absence at Beltane? Lord Father, please", pleaded Deity, "My sisters wont let me forget it and who knows what fire will withhold from me for negligence."

"Good", he adds, "but, you can keep all that you've stolen. Practice in your chamber."

"I can't start a fire to offer a goat in my room and control it, Father. The chamber is too small."

"Figure it out Sorceress, and Happy Beltane", he quips.

Coven Mother is pleased enough by the sentence. "Then, Happy Beltane Child. Adjourned."

The Coven Father eyes the defendant sternly and finalizes emphatically. "Adjourned."

I AM Lyssa

| CXCVIII | 33,827 | IV

I want my child.

I want my Alyssa.

I want my child to know the power in her voice, in her laughter, in her desires, in her thoughts.

I want my child to look in the mirror and love her beautiful chocolate skin.

I want my daughter to know that boys are mean but trust and believe that girls are much meaner.

I want my baby to believe in magick, to know that She is magick, because said Disney We are!

I want my daughter to know what True Love is and it does not come from covering Her head, that restrictive path of death is Sin.

I want my daughter to know She is her Mother and her Mother is She.

I want and need My Alyssa to know that there is no Jehovah. She is God, She can do Anything, She is Everywhere and She knows Everything; so the word of the law Thelema.

I want her to fall in love with Herself first and only then will she be able to find the Love of the Man she truly deserves. He is not her Head nor is She is. They are One, they are none, they are perfect.

I want my child to exceed the accomplishments of her mother.

I want my child to drive and Hunt and reign, as her very blood compels her to do. Growl at the boys My Baby.

I want my child to feel the warmth of the Sun and realize her potential.

I want her to see the glow of the Moon and love her gentleness.

Dear baby, You are thy Master, not He, not even Me.

I want my child to know She is accompanied by the tens of thousands, the hundreds of thousands of Us who walked before her, who now walk beside her, Our Ancestors. You are a Descendant.

I need my baby to know her Mommy feels the pain of distance and separation.

I miss my child.

I need Alyssa to remember My Love and when She misses Mommy the most, to close her eyes and to call my name and Lula will make sure I answer.

I need my child to know that not a single soul on this planet or the next means more to me than she does.

Your Mommy sang to you, your Mommy dreamed and hoped and planned for you and still does.

I cried the very millisecond I saw you, Little One, and I cry as I type and long for you. Your Mother can not lie.

Remember who You are, My Daughter.

“Beauty and strength, leaping laughter, delicious languor (faith in Us), force and fire are of us.”

As so above baby, so below,

Your Mommy

She loved and she wrote. She wrote some more and she loved to write.