The Magic Square

Saturday, 27 November 2010

The End of a Wiccan

From the age of three I recall my visions - from that age; I knew reality was more than this field of consciousness. By sixteen I had studied much and in earnest. I considered myself a solitary Wiccan - by twenty; I was formerly initiated into a working Celtic coven and began to work very hard to support Wicca. Life is full of up's and downs and I have developed my own way. The High Priest and the High-priestess who initiated me returned my measure and I passed through the degrees with ease over the years. During that time they always said I was a Mage not a Witch.

I have studies all religions, philosophies, myths and symbols I advanced as Mage and can hold my own in any debate. In any realm or any dimension. I know no fear.

Now I am in a very different place. No better than the next person. I only ask for a small measure of respect and to be accepted without Judgement or Opinion. For I will leave you be if you harm none.

Juxtaposed to the above I will break you like an egg should you fail to offer me what I offer to you freely. To say this is my right - I give love, support, compassion, empathy, understanding and acceptance. At least attempt to do the same.

If you wish to oppose me you oppose your own higher will.

There are many mansions in the kingdom which one you choose is of your free will.

Over the past two weeks I have seen too many examples of Wiccan's claiming superiority via their structure of degrees, claim rules and laws that in turn creates Dogma. What could possibly be more damaging to Humanities Evolution than creating another set of Dogma's to claim control and superiority of our fellows?

For 2000 years have we not seen a world ripped apart by monotheistic patriarchs who base a religion based on fear and oppression yet demand blind faith, hope etc on it's subjects!

And what I see is that no religion has the answer to our problems.

Sucking the thumb of illusion and expecting a pat on the back that it's all going to be OK is a delusion not a solution.

It's very easy to be religious something completely different to become holy. And there is not one human on this planet who can claim that or claim to be enlightened.

It has sickened me greatly. I will continue to support a little in my own way.

I am no longer Wiccan.
I am just a man. I will admit Pagan. Wizard, Fool, Discordant

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Location:Roading,Campbeltown,United Kingdom

Saturday, 20 November 2010

13th Sign

A Question and an Answer

I used to have a rather long discourse on the subject on my old blog now deleted for my own patience..

Imagine if you will 13 signs across a more blended solar and lunar centric time. Now since discarded, after all many died in the name of our current calendar: yet they, (the alleged initiates to mystery and illuminati), have hidden the occidental occult mysteries and this is but one of them.

See how we meet and connect in this time cycle is where souls connect from the past.

Aged we are by aeons some remember that in this now we drag kicking and screaming the secrets of the ages from the void which must be passed to have union with our true higher will which is one and the same as that of the mulitverse.

The serpent holder is part of this transformation of healing humanities consciousness - The Scorpion is the Serpent of Wisdom borne aloft by the eagle man another twist in the precession of the equinoxes - aloft it flies over the centaur of the Galactic Centre the alleged black hole at Sagittarius B - yet if it is super massive black hole is as empirical science alleges.. why does this galaxy not be absorbed too soon in this Kulpa to another Night of Brahma? Why? Another secret in the knowing of quantum physics and magick - there was no Big Bang we are but the conscious out breath of the unconscious source.

The Sagittarius B galactic centre will along with other planets be in alignment to initiate the destructive healing of our DNA in December 21st 2012 - the recycling of matter is continuous ..

These above are as below - again my words once thoughts became inspired and feeling became experience that became an understanding a moot vacancy beyond such concepts as faith, hope and belief.
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Cycles of Light

I am exploding in pure white light - the fire is stars manifest in this plain these elements mix and in the water, become as a rainbow all colours blend as one. - Their sound that of creation!

As I form from fire and water to lava, now I am as the warm earth again my hot moisture mixes with the air to once again twinkle between the stars from whence we came.
wizardparadox lux pax

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Location:My Astral Kingdom

Câd Goddeu

The Battle of the Trees

I have been in many shapes,
Before I attained a congenial form.

I have been a narrow blade of a sword.
(I will believe it when it appears.)

I have been a drop in the air.
I have been a shining Star.
I have been a word in a book.
I have been a book originally.
I have been a light in a lantern.

A year and a half.
I have been a bridge for passing over -
Three-score rivers.
I have journeyed as an eagle.
I have been a boat on the sea.
I have been a director in battle.
I have been the string of a child's swaddling clout.

I have been a sword in the hand.
I have been a shield in the fight.
I have been the string of a harp,
Enchanted for a year
In the foam of water.

I have been a poker in the fire.
I have been a tree in a covert.
There is nothing in which I have not been.

I have fought, though small,
In the Battle of Goddeu Brig,
Before the Ruler of Britain,
Abounding in fleets.
Indifferent bards pretend,
They pretend a monstrous beast,
With a hundred heads,
And a grievous combat
At the root of the tongue.
And another fight there is
At the back of the head.

A toad having on his thighs
A hundred claws,
A spotted crested snake,
For punishing in their flesh
A hundred souls on account of their sins.

I was in Caer efynedd,
Thither were hastening grasses and trees.

Wayfarers perceive them,
Warriors are astonished
At a renewal of the conflicts
Such as Gwydion made.
There is calling on Heaven,
And on Christ that he would effect
Their deliverance,
The all-powerful Lord.
If the Lord had answered,
Through charms and magic skill,
Assume the forms of the principal trees,
With you in array
Restrain the people
Inexperienced in battle.

When the trees were enchanted
There was hope for the trees,
That they should frustrate the intention
Of the surrounding fires....
Better are three in unison,
And enjoying themselves in, a circle,
And one of them relating
The story of the deluge,
And of the cross of Christ,
And of the Day of judgement near at hand.
The alder-trees in the first line,
They made the commencement.
Willow and quicken tree,
They were slow in their array.
The plum is a tree
Not beloved of men;
The medlar of a like nature,
Over coming severe toil.
The bean bearing in its shade
And army of phantoms.
The raspberry makes
Not the best of food.
In shelter live,
The privet and the woodbine,
And the ivy in its season.
Great is the gorse in battle.
The cherry-tree had been reproached.

The birch, though very magnanimous,
Was late in arraying himself;
It was not through cowardice,
But on account of his great size.
The appearance of the ...
Is that of a foreigner and a savage.

The pine-tree in the court,
Strong in battle,
By me greatly exalted
In the presence of kings,
The elm-trees are his subjects.
He turns not aside the measure of a foot,
But strikes right in the middle,
And at the farthest end.
The hazel is the judge,
His berries are thy dowry.

The privet is blessed.
Strong chiefs in war
And the ... and the mulberry.
Prosperous the beech-tree.

The holly dark green,
He was very courageous:
Defended with spikes on every side,
Wounding the hands.
The long-enduring poplars
Very much broken in fight.
The plundered fern;
The brooms with their offspring:
The furze was not well behaved
Until he was tamed
The heath was giving consolation,
Comforting the people -
The black cherry-tree was pursuing.

The oak-tree swiftly moving,
Before him tremble heaven and earth,
Stout doorkeeper against the foe
Is his name in all lands.

The corn-cockle bound together,
Was given to be burnt.
Others were rejected
On account of the holes made
By great violence
In the field of battle.

Very wrathful the ...
Cruel the gloomy ash.
Bashful the chestnut-tree,
Retreating from happiness.
There shall be a black darkness,
There shall be a shaking of the mountain,
There shall be a purifying furnace,
There shall first be a great wave,
And when the shout shall be heard,
Putting forth new leaves are the tops of the beech,
Changing form and being renewed from a withered state;
Entangled are the tops of the oak.

From the Gorchan of Maelderw.
Smiling at the side of the rock
(Was) the pear-tree not of an ardent nature.

Neither of mother or father,
When I was made,
Was my blood or body;
Of nine kinds of faculties,
Of fruit of fruits,
Of fruit God made me,
Of the blossom of the mountain primrose,
Of the buds of trees and shrubs,
Of earth of earthly kind.

When I was made
Of the blossoms of the nettle,
Of the water of the ninth wave,
I was spell-bound by Math
Before I became immortal.

I was spell-bound by Gwydion,
Great enchanter of the Britons,
Of Eurys, of Eurwn,
Of Euron, of Medron,
In myriads of secrets,
I am as learned as Math....
I know about the Emperor
When he was half burnt.
I know the star-knowledge
Of stars before the earth (was made),
Whence I was born,
How many worlds there are.
It is the custom of accomplished bards
To recite the praise of their country.

I have played in Lloughor,
I have slept in purple.
Was I not in the enclosure
With Dylan Ail Mor,
On a couch in the centre
Between the two knees of the prince
Upon two blunt spears?
When from heaven came
The torrents into the deep,
Rushing with violent impulse.
(I know) four-score songs,
For administering to their pleasure.

There is neither old nor young,
Except me as to their poems,
Any other singer who knows the whole of the nine hundred
Which are known to me,
Concerning the blood-spotted sword.

Honour is my guide.
Profitable learning is from the Lord.
(I know) of the slaying of the boar,
Its appearing, its disappearing,
Its knowledge of languages.
(I know) the light whose name is Splendour,
And the number of the ruling lights
That scatter rays of fire
High above the deep.

I have been a spotted snake upon a hill;
I have been a viper in a lake;
I have been an evil star formerly.
I have been a weight in a mill.
My cassock is red all over.
I prophesy no evil.

Four score puffs of smoke
To every one l who will carry them away:
And a million of angels,
On the point of my knife.

Handsome is the yellow horse,
But a hundred times better
Is my cream-coloured one,
Swift as the sea-mew,
Which cannot pass me
Between the sea and the shore.
Am I not pre-eminent in the field of blood?

I have a hundred shares of the spoil.
My wreath is of red jewels,
Of gold is the border of my shield.

There has not been born one so good as I,
Or ever known,
Except Goronwy,
From the dales of Edrywy.
Long and white are my fingers,
It is long since I was a herdsman.
I travelled over the earth
Before I became a learned person.

I have travelled, I have made a circuit,
I have slept in a hundred islands;
I have dwelt in a hundred cities.
Learned Druids,
Prophesy ye of Arthur?
Or is it me they celebrate,
And the Crucfixion of Christ,
And the Day of Judgement near at hand,
And one relating
The history of the Deluge ?
With a golden jewel set in gold
I am enriched;
And I am indulging in pleasure
Out of the oppressive toil of the goldsmith.

Location:My Astral Plane


My First Poem Written in 1985 - This Body was 15.

A Poem and Prose of Anything the Evil of Possession
Possessions own Tools Possessors are,
Abominations place is where fools are.

Lords of Power, Lords of Might.
Time has come to begin thy final fight,
And in this cause you are needed to sever ever the darkening haste.

Crimson Horsemen to pass you by,
Crimson as the blood lit sky,
Crimson as the freshest red rose,
Crimson as life’s own blood.
Over the plains on horseback gallop,
Over the hills under phantoms shadows,
Down a glade amongst the farmers furrows,
Colliding together pastels on a palette of sliding plates,
Atop the shattered corpses in they byre,
Fire and Flame leap from the farmyard barn after a drunken yarn.

Crimson Wolves eyes, heard howling in the twilight,
Crimson throats raw with tone,
Crimson stained the ozone layer,
Crimson layer of mankind the bloody slayer.

Drawn and halted overseeing the towers and wastes a atop now a mountain plateau where morbid shadows are spent in paranoiac ecstasy.

Lava thrust and earth trembles, the created Satan a hand only is out grasping for more twisted souls he took
And still the wolves once grey matted redder more blood they taste,
Once where buffalo grazed now is nothing but stained carrion hates.

Crimson twisted over,
Crimson nails, clawing, deeper,
Crimson as that vampire dream,
Crimson torn and forlorn hopes they scream.

No battlements need they crumble, down the valley still a rumble.

Broadswords have drawn another usurping blow and decapitations head tumble, the reaping are rich this night.

Nothing is now anything to me and more. In this dance, twisting turning lyric and there a flash of silver orb, deaths own head.
With my sheath I fumble trying from my charger I am humbled. I have changed, On I have moved into another dimension.

Crimson Sails of Junk boats from the land of the setting sun all torn with tempests whipped,
Crimson Rage and Lot the fools now starting to realise through dreams they are possessions tools.

Crimson life and death,
Crimson paths where even the saints and martyrs would not dare to cross.

Holding on tightly now to all that I have, struggling to hold my mind in place,
For believe me or not, if I let go it is surely lost.
To a merciless spirit freedom flows and it would go to a layer of darkness so foul.

There night is a forever and always to fall.
That and this the midnight hour within a darkened tower the souls of the dead collect as one begging to rest, theirs is the aid sought to stop pestilence and corruptions spawn.

And there to hear a hint at last of heavenly grace empowered my spiritual sword will find its place.
Crimson shelled in armor I ask the masters if they can see my angels fly.

Crimson in the shining ones shared blood and the mistress as well; I to all linked.
This does not stop the need when required to see my blade cold and wet with his servants twine!
Crimson do you now alive redeemer recall deaths halls?
Crimson clothed we walked its places rooms and portals!
Mystically sealed portals opened only with a sacrificial tear, and you a master’s son led me safely beyond eternities place.
For as the immoral mortal that I am, not the lords just another one, in us all kings blood from lovers loins.
You then deserted us and left us to die but now my friend I am back and quite alive in fact rather well.

Laughter rings in my ears, I listen to the smaller children’s songs they play carefree in flowery rings.
Like theirs an eternal wisdom is spread like love over angels wings.
“Try Harder”, I call to them for heaven will have no limits when the fires are dowsed.

They dance with fairy free and eldritch music. The Lords nod gnosis and knowing every living organism has a place with my love and hate is slowly extinguished.

Crimson Horsemen to pass you by,
Crimson as the blood lit sky,
Crimson as the freshest red rose,
Crimson as life’s own blood.
Over the plains on horseback gallop,
Over the hills under phantoms shadows,
Down a glade amongst the farmers furrows,
Colliding together pastels on a palette of sliding plates,
Atop the shattered corpses in they byre,
Fire and Flame leap from the farmyard barn after a drunken yarn.

And still you wonder what this Crimson was? It is whatever I wish it to be.
It is life, it is blood and fallen bright Lucifer or the master called God above.
For now the next time you turn to see the rain fall from the sky do not damn a weather vane’s prediction of the Gods or Demons that abound.

It may be one it may be all, however that will not stop the rainfall.

Lords of Power, Lords of Might.
Time has come to begin thy final fight,
And in this cause you are needed to sever ever the darkening haste.

Possessions own Tools Possessors are,
Abominations place is where fools are.

© Jonathan MacLean-Lambie 1985 & 2008

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:My Astral Plane