REALMS OF REASON, INSANITY, MAGIC & MACABRE

Don't Look Back

If you would like to follow along with the author's read. Witches Lust Stir the cauldron, mix it well so the souls we stole won’t come back to tell of the monstrous sights that roam at night, that awful fright that sealed the spell and damned them all to that burning hell. Set the fire to a scalding blaze and stand behind the ashen circle with your hands raised. No god comes near, no words of praise, just their screams in fear and their fixed gaze. The time has come to inhale the smoke of the witch’s weed. The choke comes as your mind is freed. Off with your cloak! Let us now proceed. Dance and join hands, ‘tis not just chance that commands, all are joined together as one and soon these tethers will come undone. No longer bound by bone and skin, bid the flame of the fire, “come in”. Let it consume you and pleasure you without bounds. Lie down with the fire on the hard cold ground. Let the flames lick you wherever you desire and release that lustfu...

I have stepped into the river from the safety of the shore and swam against the current looking for something more. I have crossed the desert with no shelter from the sun and my thirst for knowledge was quenched by the One. I have burned many bridges, turned and walked away. I am searching to find something wise and worthy to say. I am here in body; my soul has become a quasar; I know what lies beyond - I know where you are. All I want to do is evolve as quickly as I can, but there is nothing I can do to change who I am. I will always be in this now, this illusion, this paradigm - I am reminded again, in this reality, our master is time. Walking through fire - feeling the heat but not the burn, walking on the wheel trying to make the earth turn, wondering, does this reality, really, depend on me? When I get to the door, will I be given the key? Should I knock on the door and ask to be let in? Will th...

I heard the church bells tolling. It was as if they were calling me to come inside. I stood on the steps that led up to the ornate gothic doors listening to the organist playing some unrecognized hymn. I was being compelled, could not fight it, I opened the door and stood inside the Narthex in a state of apprehension, though I had no idea why. It almost felt like fear, but I had never been afraid to enter here before this day, this time, this eerie summoning echoing from behind the next set of doors. I slowly opened one of the massive doors, trying to be as quiet as possible. I looked down the center aisle and saw a casket turned so that it looked as if I had entered upon a Mass for the deceased. I could also see that the casket had not been draped in white yet, so perhaps I had arrived early. I dipped my finger into the waters inside the door and made the sign of the cross, head to heart and then across from left shoulder to ...

Silence tiptoed through the old cottage picking up remnants of the stories told, like cobweb wisps of memories, gathered in long whispers and clinging to the weathered skin that still gives the appearance of living to these frail and empty bones. It was a long wait, and longer still as the snow came down in a fury, announcing winter’s long anticipated arrival. But she stayed focused in her determination to come to him, prepared to enter the gauntlet and celebrate her triumphant victory, claiming her rightful place at his side. The hours ticked by slowly but she did not agonize over the constraints of time. Time had lost its power over her along with the illusion of distance and now she would become the conquering force within the reality that was hers. She held fast to the visions of forever that spurred her onward. She would lay her gifts at his feet and bid him come, to finally join hands with her, “do not linger to marvel at worthless things, look at me, I give ...

In the chasms of doctrine and superstition, Standing at the brink of our delusions, Buried ‘neath the weight of my own contrition, Waiting for judgment’s final conclusions, Waiting for the moment of condemnation, Waiting for all the charges to be read. Sentenced to life’s eternal damnation, These decaying corpses of our undead. We who walk through the alluvial wasteland, Charged to witness our own perversions; Obscenities feeding upon the damned, Bound by the threads of our own aversions. M Teresa Clayton

REALMS OF REASON, INSANITY, MAGIC AND MACABRE Don’t Look Back The blind will see, the deaf will hear… but those who choose reason will never know what lies behind the veil   – M Teresa Clayton Hello Reader! This group of blogs are dedicated to our reality, our perception of reality and what could become our reality.  It encompasses the world as we know it, ourselves as we know ourselves to be, others we pass judgements on and how all of this affects past, present and future. However, there really isn’t time and space – is there? What becomes of a second, within a minute, within an hour, within a day of our lives? The seasons are obvious to a greater degree. Day and night are obvious to a greater degree. If we learn to listen to our circadian measure of “time”, we would have no need for hours and days.  How would life be if we were to forget what day of the week it is, what month we are in, how many years ...

I think I know you or at least where you’ve been. Do you remember anything from that time, long ago, when  darkness fell from the sky and covered everything here on the ground,  and nothing could be recovered because nothing could be found…? I think I’d like to forget what happened back then  but memories cannot be washed away with the ash. Do you recall anything from that place we call the past? O, my friend, we knew each other when the sky was blue and clear,  then those black clouds rolled in and destroyed everything we held dear… It was if it all happened yesterday, but so many years have passed. Do you recognize me now though I’ve changed; I’ve turned?  The night came within the day and put out the fire that burned. Yes, we were blinded by soot and ash falling down like rain, and w e couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear, couldn’t reach out for each other’s hand. Blood filled the rivers, the echoes of screams ...

THE TORTOISE AND THE HARE Breathe The air is full of hallucinogenics,  creating a colorful collage of cancerous scenery to behold only for the lifetime of a breath. See Born into our photographic minds,  the melting pot of good and evil, confusing  the two as temptation grasps our naïve,  curious thoughts, to elude truth into a,  much too often, alluring and enticing  trap of evil, only to spend the greedy h ands of time untangling the tightly  woven tapestry known as life. Feel We discover that reality is the hell we all fear. The testing ground for stable, logical, human beings to discover the pain and torture of trying to outrun  the race of fate. Like the tortoise and the hare… Those who pace their lives too fast, experiencing  a multitude of life, find that life has beaten  them when they took their rest… leaving them  to hold onto a few memories, even then, too  vague and too forgo...