Gospel Of The Wytches

Evidence that the cult of Wytchecraft was a formalized spiritual path that predated Christianity  was unearthed in 1886, when the American folklorist Charles Leland discovered an intriguing document during a trip to Italy. He had traveled there to research Gypsy customs but during his visit he met a self-confessed Wytche by the name of Maddalena, who produced a handwritten copy of Aradia - Gospel of the Wytches, which dispelled the image of Wytchecraft as a hellish rite. There was no mention of the devil, sex with Satan or sacrifice. Instead the book outlined the belief that a universal life force resided in all living things and that this source of power could be tapped into and channeled by those who could attune themselves to it. Leland was convinced that the book was a genuine artifact and that it had been passed down to Maddalena as part of her initiation into La Vecchia Religione (The Old Religion) - a term that is often applied to Italian Wytchecraft.
When it appeared that the church was intent on erasing all traces of Paganism, individuals took it upon themselves to preserve this tradition of 'natural wisdom' by recording their beliefs and practices in documents such as the one Leland discovered.
~ The Dark Hisrory Of The Occult ~
Paul Roland
)O(  

IN SEVEN DAYS: FIVE DEAD

There's a man a-walkin' through the hood,
a man of ill-begotten fame.
He whistles a sad dirge tune,
that whispers out our names.
He's a wraith as dark as blackest sin,
and some folks call him The Reaper.
But I simply call him
Mister Grim!
)O(

BLACK MOON ESBAT

The blackness was palpable, cloying like funerary cerements as I followed the deer path more by instinct than sight. I smiled to myself, pondering how the imagination of the non-nocturnal urbanites could ever come close to realizing just how much light the eyes are capable of collecting from the stars alone.
A few yards to my right something was pacing me. Quiet, but not quite quiet enough.
And it had size.
A coyote, perhaps a wolf, or maybe one of the black bears that have been sighted along Dry Creek of late. But, Black Bears tend to be less stealthy than this creature was.
The night belonged to Goddess Hekate, guardian of crossroads and cemeteries, protectress of the dead, Queen of Wytches.
My Queen.
My skin prickled in anticipation of our union.
A little below me, and off to the left, I could hear the living water lasciviously licking the large rocks and boulders that stud the belly of the bed it follows. Ancient monoliths they are, stretching for the constellations whilst they mutely mark the passage of Sacred Eon, as they have done for centuries.
My soul began to tremble as I listened for the call of that piece of ground that yearned to become sacred space, to witness the union of the Dark Mother and Her son. It's not a sound you know. It's more of a tingle, like that of a mild electrical charge. The call is a magnet, and I the iron filings.
I paused on my trek, hearing the whispers of my own breath as I scanned the heavens for Sagittarius flinging His arrows into the galaxy.
My stalker paused too,
it's creature curiosity even more piqued.
Having sent greetings to my birth patron my eyes sought the moon. If you wish to see the black moon look for black on black, you will find Her. She's darker than the rest of the nocturnal canopy, a swirling vortex of darkness, an abyss in which you see your true self, warts, lesions and all.
I resumed my journey.
As did my companion.
Vibrations thrilled my flesh as my feet splashed the shoreline. My destination was near.

Goin' Down Ta New O'leans

I've got my mind made up!
Ah huh huh.
Ah huh huh.
I've got my mind all made up!
I'm a goin' down ta New O'leans.
Gonna meet that black skinned woman what put her ju ju all on me.
Ah huh huh.
I've got my mind made up!
There really ain't that much ta tell
but she sho' put a gris gris spell on me.
The one Black Stump Swamp folks Laveau
ya' know, as in Queen Marie.
Ah huh huh.
I've got my mind made up!
I'm a hopin' the dark rhythms in her soul
will make me feel what b'fo I onc't felt
back when there was blood on the moon
in the ta'bacca belt.
I've got my mind made up!
Ah huh huh.
Ah huh huh.
Ah huh huh.
I've got my mind all made up!
)O(

FULL MOON ESBAT

I eased out the back door and stepped into a cocoon of twenty degree air. For several minutes I stood deeply inhaling the crisp breath of night as I felt my senses stirring, awakening from the narcolepsy induced by the synthetic wombs we dwell in.
The shift fell sudden and abrupt. I had become alert, focused to the scents, sounds and movements of the nocturnal world.
Leisurely I strolled across the back yard, hopped the offensive fence separating me from my destination and firmly planted my feet on the brittle grass of the mow. I gazed about, bathing in the silvery shower of moon kisses. I had stepped through the hidden garden gate of secrets and mysteries into the realm of Goddess Nyx.
It was time to go skyclad.
After shucking my garb down to cutoffs I shouldered my Craft tool bag and began my journey.
As I loped along the skirt hem of the wood line surrounding the meadow I listened to the grousing, peeping and twitters of tiny woodland creatures both undisturbed and unperturbed by my presence.
Weaving in and out amongst the trees, occasionally hopping over frigid rivulets, I made my way to my goal, a lone and ancient Cedar that stands sentinel watch over the treeless shrubless field. I could feel a myriad eyes upon me marking my passage. From time to time they winked the moon at me as soaring Selene went about Her business of making and breaking shadows. Without knowledge of  the lapse of time or space I was there, standing beside my friend.
I laid my bag on the ground, sat down to lean my back against his rough trunk, and watched.
Before long I was blessed with the sight of a honking flock of forty or more geese languidly winging their way across the moon's face. Nice.
Hard on their heels, from the belly of the forest, a fox entered the open ground to trot a straight line across to the wooded shelter on the far side. Intent upon some urgent errand and feeling secure she looked neither left nor right. Silence ensued, and I was alone.
After a lengthy time of quiet wonder the sharp crack of some befallen branch snapping magnetized my attentive gaze to my left. A buck and his doe stepped timidly into the clearing to stand statue still and blow luminous clouds of fog from their nostrils as they tested for warnings of foes. Being upwind, yet near enough to hand, I could smell the warmth of their hides. Satisfied that all was well they meandered across, pausing only to graze at treats here and there until they were swallowed again by the morphic shadows.
My soul was lifted up and my heart sang: O Lady. O Lord. How wondrous are Thy works! In wisdom hast Thou made them all. For the heavens declare Thy glory, and the earth shows forth Thy handiwork.
Stiff with age and numb with cold I awkwardly rose to my knees and laid out the contents of my satchel unto the ground.
A wand for inscribing my circle, charcoal and incense, two jarred candles, a flat smooth round holed stone, a pine cone and a seashell to hold my offering of nuts, herbs and spices.

I rose to my feet, shed my denim shorts, and stood erect as I lifted hands and face to the heavens. In a loud cry I declared myself and invited the four sacred elemental guardians, the Goddesses and Gods to attend my ritual. A rush of heat flooded my physical frame.
My rite of honoring, petitioning and thanksgiving was set afoot.
)O(  
  

I've been Yaweh's holocaust
far too long
What is it to you
who knows naught of me
that I now choose
to become Aphrodite's
oblation song

SEERESS

You called me Father
I said identity mistaken
You stepped in so much closer
the more to search me over
And with sad punishing eyes
low laid me down in surprise
when by strong contradiction
you called me Father
yet one time again
Oh ... Reverend Sister
but this question I propose
Just how
did you know