Autumn Magic poem four
A prayer to the Elohim …
help us in the
whirlwinds of water
and fires of destruction.
too much steam…
How to prune the masses
A man who is a Doppelgänger
Causing chaos, discord, and division
Racist and hypocrite…
Send you peace of heart and mind….
conceivably good people will become
The powerful and not the defeated.
Magic comes to console and make
A sword of justice of
nobility and goodwill
Make us whole dear diplomatic Elohim.
AZOTH
Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. ~ genesis.
6th woodcut from the series in Basil Valentine’s
You’ll have to get out of these little boxes, you know, physics on my left and psychology on my right, you can’t do that, you cannot do that in dealing with UFOs. What I’m saying is you cannot do that anymore in dealing with astrophysics. The problem that scientists have today is that time and space, the way we were thinking about them, don’t make sense when you begin to deal with particle entanglement and with entanglement of larger physical things. So we’re going to get to the same place eventually.
Dr. Jacques Vallée
“But the way is my own self, my own life founded upon myself. The God wants my life. He wants to go with me, sit at the table with me, work with me. Above all he wanted to be ever-present. But I’m ashamed of my God. I don’t want to be divine but reasonable. The divine appears to me as irrational craziness. I hate it as an absurd disturbance of my meaningful human activity. It seems an unbecoming sickness which has stolen into the regular course of my life. Yes, I even find the divine superfluous.” Jung 78/98
I have not done this for a while. To randomly pick a book and open the page and read a paragraph. It is a type of trance effort. Some of the worst and best loved characters that I have read or studied live in a kind of trance world. A place of myth, magic and raised consciousness. William Blake, Carl Jung, and the pitiful creature known as Adolf Hitler. I am studying Hitler’s biography now. I was amazed how his and their lives moved in the same worlds.
The place of science, math and technology works in our modern age. The world of Blake, Jung and Hitler are different. One cannot superimpose our current world upon theirs. Which leads me to the randomly picked book and paragraph today.
Blake is a marvelous visionary and artist. He inspires humanity to think and brings beauty in reach of our grasp. Jung heals humanity with his depth psychology.
Hitler inverts compassion and goodness. He shows us what the worst part of human nature is.
They all use their unique wills to inspire or destroy.
Blake and Jung show us that humanity is a wondrous reality. They have dived into their unconscious and show us luminous stars and a good conscience.
We find our history and our future with inspired foresight; what it is to do good for humanity. Blake keeps the best and the worst at bay while focusing his will to ascend to transcendence.
Hitler did this too. To understand him, his world, one becomes aware of a trance of darkness; he is a mythologist of national German superhuman qualities…of what it is to be demonically insane! He is without a touch of the human soul or spirit! No sparks make him human. Hitler is the trance of a monster! How can anyone in their right mind address such a hideous freak as him with a salute?
William Blake ~ Europe, A Prophecy 8
“It is one of the wonders of human existence that a person can live a long and happy life without once becoming aware of the reality of consciousness and its ability to transcend the immediate physical level. At the instant of death, will time suspend its rule long enough for such people to realize what they missed?”
~ Pg. 153 Jacques Vallee, Confrontations; A scientist’s Search for Alien Contact.
I love Vallee. He is the scientist that places himself in the world of myth, magic and raised consciousness! He does not ignore art or music either. He rings the heart of a compassion that wants to know. He transcends a nationalist myth blending with Blake’s “universal humanity,” or Jung’s “collective unconscious.”
“In his late works, he embodied these and other ills in the nightmare ridden figure of the cosmic giant Albion, or universal humanity, who has fallen into deadly sleep of mundane existence. In humanity’s coma, the divine is a remote and forbidding sky-god: nature a sterile heap of atoms, lovers and family members, enemies; and one’s own innermost being, an unrecognized alien.”
~Blake’s Poetry & Designs ` A Norton Critical Edition.
“In Goethe’s world conception, which is of a magical nature, both man’s spiritual and physical existence is related to the whole Universe of Stars, Sun and Planets. Just as man is not limited to his physical body, which Goethe conceived as the garment of both soul and spirit, the stars are not considered as simply meaningless massed formed in a three-dimensional space time continuum. Rather, Goethe regarded the heavenly orbs as the outer physical expression of Spiritual Beings, higher nonhuman Intelligences, which radiate spiritual and qualitative forces with their operative orbits.”
~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
~Pg. 162-3 The Spear of Destiny by Trevor Ravenscroft
I am whispering in case the heavens are listening. This month the moon, sun, and planets are making a big deal about their place in the heavens, again.
I get it. It is a lovely galactic symphony. So, come the trials. Some are big and some very subtle and diabolically a pain in the ass. I try to keep sensible and logical, which I learned from my oldest son. It is hard to sometimes be logical and I turn to my passions.
So, the books start to come. I show a little interest in something from my past and the books will come. Not my doing it is my darn husband.
He has a statistical and chess mind. He thinks that by getting me these books that interest me, he can buy more chess books. So be it. I guess those rosy stories have been whispering in my ear as of late. As I said, it is that time of the year when chaos can be a good thing but unfortunately now it is discerningly a depraved time in our history.
Yet, from the cracks in the universe we find unique gifts like pearls. I shall go with the flow now engaging my moral courage for years to come.
“And while holding the talisman of power in his hands he told his Aides that mankind was standing on the brink of the most evil epoch in the entire history of the Planet. His young subordinates did not know about the Atom Bomb which was a most closely guarded a secret at this time.
They asked themselves what could be more evil than the Concentration Camps of Adolf Hitler’s defeated regime, and they wondered if their General had finally gone off his head. General Patton lift the bunker beneath Nuremberg Fortress in a somber mood.
Doom was written across the future of humanity unless human beings could live at peace with one another, and Patton could see in all clarity the danger of the new confrontation between America and Russia…Soldiers from the Third Division were standing guard outside the massive steel doors of the bunker in the Oberen Schmied Gasse when American aircraft unleashed the first atom bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The atomic age had begun.”
Pg. 350 The Spear of Destiny by Threvor Ravenscroft
To my lullaby surrender
Warm and tender is my breast
Mother’s arms with love caressing
Lay their blessing on your rest
Nothing shall tonight alarm you
None shall harm you, have no fear
Lie contented, calmly slumber
On your mother’s breast, my dear
Here tonight I tightly hold you
And enfold you while you sleep
Why, I wonder, are you smiling
Smiling in your slumber deep?
Are the angels on you smiling
And beguiling you with charm
While you also smile, my blossom
In my bosom soft and warm?
Have no fear now, leaves are knocking
Gently knocking at our door
Have no fear now, waves are beating
Gently beating on the shore
Sleep, my darling, none shall harm you
Nor alarm you, never cry
In my bosom sweetly smiling
And beguiling those on high.
Oberen Schmied Gasse.
Great-grandfather was born Aug. 9 1849 , St. Osyth Middlesex England.
My great-grandfather left my family a little gift. While looking for birth certificates and my marriage license, I came upon a little book. Cappen Jan Jake; A Cornish Tale.
My mom did not share much information about her family. In her last years she did seem to show interest in finding out more about her family. Today a little book that my great-grandfather wrote and published found me again. An extraordinary experience for me.
I went to Ancestry.com and added William Howard Watson to my family tree. The little green leaves are multiplying with glory. I am happy to know that my great-grandfather was a writer, curious and printed these little story books. I think we would have gotten along very well.
My next publishing venture is to republish his little book. I have all I need to do this. It is a perfect little book, and it is how I would have done it too. Simply perfect. I am delighted as can be.
Now for sale on Amazon….
Click on the image.
(Update it seems a lighting strike came through my soul and we went to San Francisco the end of May 2017… my joy overflowed… )
Catalogue 65, William Blake, “Always In Paradise ~ John Windle Antiquarian Bookseller
Proof Sheet The Trianon Press
Inferno The Divine Comedy
Trianon Press Facsimiles and I…
Melancholy William Blake Date: 1816 – 1820 Style: Symbolism Series: Illustrations to John Milton – L`Allegro and Il Penseroso Genre: religious painting
I thought we would be driving up to San Francisco to see some of William Blake’s art at The William Blake Gallery located at the John Windle Antiquarian Bookseller. My pilgrimage to see Blake’s work has taken a big reprieve. Time to rethink this again.
Planning a journey to the United Kingdom, in a few years, might be the best way to see his work. A well planned out journey can be done. Giving us plenty of time to research museums and places to stay in the U.K. I will start a Blake fund/budget. Setting goals, reading, and planning are wonderful ways to take on a reprieve from my need to see his real authentic work
Besides today is a cloudy cool day in May. My kind of weather. Almost as if San Francisco has come to us, this weekend, instead of us going to San Francisco.
Melancholy is a type of reprieve or realization. Time is given to focus within ourselves. Where we can be participating with our imagination and become creatively involved. That is, if we engage our Sun and Neptune in the right way, astrologically speaking of course.
Something within is stirring. I don’t know what is going to happen? I can wait and see what the future will bring. It is a good bright hope that will be born from an inward reprieve.
William Blake Gallery
http://www.johnwindle.com/shop/windle/WilliamBlakeGallery.html?id=xmZgSBWw
PLaces in europe and the united kingdom to see Blake’s work.
Interesting past exhibition on Blake and who he influenced.
I am not a U2 fan but they always come up in regards to William Blake’s work… I do not judge…
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/reprieve/
Ode to the Verdugo Mountains
By Hudley Flipside
In the early morning
there is nothing like driving east
on Sherman Way in the San Fernando Valley.
Not too many drivers
on the road
the view of the Verdugo mountains
are straight ahead.
The Verdugo shine with a blue gray hue
recalling my youthful wild days.
The street is lined
with dark green pepper trees
blocks of brilliant yellow mustard greens
freely enhanced with
miles of tall brown, yellow wheat weeds.
What is left of a wild valley?
It is a cool windy day
the will-o’-the-wisp
goes around and round.
Made up of different colored leaves
memories that stir within me.
Coolness on clothes
distance of windy gray sky
maybe rain will fall
onto the concert of
the Los Angeles River
parallel to
the Verdugo Mountains.
Prehistoric blue gray mountain range
wild dew memories
inspire feelings
I am getting younger
not older.
I pause outside as bee and lady bug fly around.
Sweet is the nectar from
lemon tree and lavender.
Letting go of worries and
desires that do not serve me now.
An old friend, a song, comes to mind
as my “leaves in the wind.”
Perfect are old recorded songs
and the insect, flower and tree!
Somehow as I pause in breathing,
I am lost in this perfection.
The recurring of pause of being,
the repetition of listening to old songs
the heartfelt listening and watching nature,
Is my catalyst for artistic expression.
Never to let us down.
“The rose is fairest when ‘t is budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew
And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.”
― Walter Scott, Lady of the Lake
Last night’s dream set me on a journey of murder and fear. I left my car’s break off and it flew down the hill knocking down people, places, and things.
Yet, somehow, I ended up in a cave / loft underground looking up on a reflection of Our Lady of Guadalupe. There were five or six of us looking up, out of the loft.
A wood ladder hung upon the opening and straw was all around. I started to hum a song.
I did some research and found out that this song has an interesting history separate from Latin or the Catholic Church.
Franz Schubert Opus 52, 7 songs set to Walter Scott’s epic poem Lady of the Lake. (1825)
“My hope, my heaven, my trust must be,
My gentle guide, in following thee.”
― Walter Scott, The Lady of the Lake
Original text for Ellens dritter Gesang III is Scott/Stork Text before Lain text “Catholic Ave Maria” (Hail Mary).
“Hymn to the Virgin” by Sir Walter Scott
Listen to a maiden’s prayer!
Thou canst hear though from the wild;
Thou canst save amid despair.
Safe may we sleep beneath thy care,
Though banish’d, outcast and reviled –
Maiden! hear a maiden’s prayer;
Mother, hear a suppliant child!
Ave Maria! Ave Maria! undefiled!
The flinty couch we now must share
Shall seem with down of eider piled,
If thy protection hover there.
The murky cavern’s heavy air
Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled.
Then, Maiden! hear a maiden’s prayer,
Mother, list a suppliant child!
Ave Maria!
Ave Maria! stainless styled.
Foul demons of the earth and air,
From this their wonted haunt exiled,
Shall flee before thy presence fair.
We bow us to our lot of care,
Beneath thy guidance reconciled.
Hear for a maid a maiden’s prayer,
And for a father hear a child!
Ave Maria!
“What is actually new in these interactions is the introduction of the financial aspect; if desired, the user has the possibility to monetize his expertise. Although, we can always share our experience for free, giving users the opportunity to have some financial compensation may enhance the potential of interactions by providing them credibility, recognizing their value and establishing a relationship of equals between the parties. Some people may well feel more at ease if, to complete their project, they have the possibility to ‘buy’ someone else’s know-how.”
~https://www.quora.com/What-do-you-consider-to-be-your-greatest-asset
Hudley the Jester… Be more than an asshole.
After my stuff was destroyed by punks at a San Fernando Valley show, I felt threatened, but I moved on. My journals are now in paperback format for online sale. Problem solved. Published in 2019.
my opus magnum
It is ironic. My jewel, my opus magnum, and creations destroyed by the very same scene that gave me a voice. The punk scene gave me a voice. I self-taught myself or created myself in this void of rebellion.
A new world. The ideologies, punk community where we helped each other.
We confront the status quo and want to change things. My memories are something I share. It took me a long time but, a validation from financial gain is a necessity for the value of one’s art. What makes it valuable is relative.
Time, attempt, joy, bliss, and humor. A joining in. I joined the community of the history of punk now. I took a vow in Jung’s terms.
I am confronted with violence, destruction, and hate. What is my psyche doing now?
How is Cosmos responding to this? The fire of destruction. The depth of despair. The wheel of talk becomes tiresome to others.
Pity, maybe.
Hope, lost.
The band plays on…
I smell nothing today.
But the recurrence of something I cannot change.
I move forward as a phoenix.
new possibilities new awareness
leaving the gutter behind me!
In “Journal Number Four,” the author dedicates the issue to the tape recorder used at Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine. The cover features a favorite photo of the early punk scene, showcasing the Canadian band Subhumans and the Samoans, along with notable figures like Greg Turner, Metal Mike, Wimpy, Hud, Gary, and Jim. The author is seen holding the Flipside tape recorder, with the photo taken by Al Flipside.
Now the new cover for Flipside Fanzine # 54 Ten Year Anniversary Issue. A paperback replica of the original issue. Published by The Seminary of Praying Mantis Publishing/ Hudley Flipside (2019)
All four journals are now for sale as one paperback memoir…
Click on both images to order for your reading pleasure.
Someone, a few or many is / are looking through my work here steadfastly.
It is a little discerning to me. Yet as I notice old posts being read, I can edit them and brush off the dust.
This is one of my favorite adventures in my understanding of real power of female energy which is being called upon right now to help women in our current culture.
I call on her power as well to defeat the bastards and also now conservative bitches who oppress women in any way.
All Women, Their bodies their minds and their wills. All women need to be given back the right to their own bodies.
I call upon the Holy Baubo
her impressive mythology
her power will conquer.
bringing justice for all women.
“But you have the beauty and strength of love on your side. And if we can find a sense of humor, too, these are the weapons of the angels.”
~ A Summer Place.
Walking into the small misty temple, I at once noticed the stained glass window. I sat on the tree stump. The image was enhanced by a crescent shape design and by a few candles flashing colorful red, gold and purple flames. I took to memory the message. I knew it was true.
My search to find the great Baubo, the Holy Baubo, had failed again. Yet, her new message was presented to me in the reflective glass widow image.
She was to do it. At the beginning. She had to defeat those evil bastards…
Prometheus Unbound, man is defined as “one harmonious soul of many a soul, whose nature is its own divine control.”
~ The Selected Poetry and Prose of Shelley edited, with introduction, by Carlos Baker.
http://www.ancient.eu/Prometheus/
“… Poetry strengthens the faculty which is the organ of the moral nature of man [imagination] in the same manner as exercise strengthens a limb.”
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley
“The secret of morals,”
says the essayist,
“Is love; or a going out of our own nature, and an identification of ourselves with the beautiful which exists in thought, action, or person, not our own. A man, to be greatly good, must imagine intensely and comprehensively…The great instrument of moral good is the imagination: and poetry administers to the effect [ moral good] by acting upon the cause [imagination].’ Poetry enlarges the circumstance of the imagination by replenishing it with thoughts of ever new delight, which have the power of attracting and assimilating to their own nature all other thought.”
~ Shelley
Promethean Fennel poem by Hudley
A gift to my mother. Now after her death I take it back and place on a wall in my home.
Over thirty years ago
Finding a red rose
stained glass
five petals.
At a common thrift store
then, upon my wall
after, a gift to mother
upon her wall.
Now upon my wall, again
a symbol
now I know
it means good magic
supporting me
all along…
“Midsummer night upon the sword,
Knights and squires are standing guard,
In the grove knightly dance they tread
With torches and garlands of roses red”
~ Johannes Steenstrup, CHR The Medieval Popular Ballad, 1968
Bless them wild suicide squirrels they got a death wish. I see them dance the Distortion Dance of Death.
Spring is so sweet today. The air honeyed with nectar and the birds are singing. Life can be heavenly, but I never lose sight of the shadow. It is important to keep goodness and our shadows at check, or in balance. A clever way for our soul. You know the story of the brightest light casting the greatest shadow.
Today I am impressed to hear the music of the wild thyme herb growing. Blossoms are small and delicate. It casts a shadow too and hangs best under one dark shadow this morning.
But…
Have you seen the suicide squirrels? Crazy animals that run across the street. They have a big shadow going on in them as daredevils galore.
These crazy squirrels race across the street not looking where they are going. They zoom fast over the road right in front of cars.
I slow down in my car and honk and yell trying to save their life. Jerks in cars don’t care and run them right over. A real hit and run. I stay to watch the Distortion Dance of Death.
Them crazy suicide squirrels. I stay and take care of their final wishes. I always take time to bless ’em and put them in a bag after they die. It is always quick.
A song by Stan Kenton called Painted Rhythm reminds me of them wild beasts, them suicide squirrels. They just don’t listen to me.
I scream,
“Get off the street !!”
The suicide squirrels are damn independent, wild, and organized animals… but they have a strange shadow side. A death wish.
“…Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!
I find comment ’bout my looks irrelativity,
Think I’ll go and have some fun,
‘Cos it’s all for free.
I’m not searching for a reason to enjoy myself…,”
– Yardbirds
Had one of those dreams of being back at the scene of the 1980s. A club morphed into a Golden Voice show! The tight feelings were there of knowing all the bands and the characters and players! Jim Kaa of the Crowd was talking in my ear when brother Gus showed up. We are not talking these days, but in this dream, we approached each other for a forgiving hug when I turned into myself. How I look now.
I asked myself if I had the password to get into the show? I said it does not matter because I am in and not going anywhere!
Lots of guys from bands were roaming around! I was consciously aware enough to dig being back in the middle of things. Running around and being part of what was happening…like everyone else there! My scene, my friends, something to offer and cover! Al approached me; we then were at an adjoining Chinese restaurant. We were shooting the breeze! I was wondering where the bar was ’cause a cold beer sounded good to ease my social tension!
Al Flipside had a new computerized contraption that took pictures, recorded bands, and interviewed bands; ready for documenting the whole scene. All from a large black computer book!
He was on the cutting edge and creative as usual. As we were eating our noodles a band came on! Al said he had to go see about a band. I told him go ahead I will watch over your noodles until you get back!!
I awoke from the dream with a missing feeling of belonging once to a music scene that was overwhelming wild and unpredictable. I was spoiled then! My heart will always mourn those days of youthful rebellion!
The true feeling of real beauty within must always be focused upon !
Logan’s Run had a profound influence on me at 17. Imagining a place where people were killed off at the age of 30 frightened me. Also having all the plastic surgery you needed to be as beautiful as possible was weird. At 17 becoming 30 seemed like the end of time itself. I also remember thinking about turning 18 seemed beyond belief. My friends and I sat in a circle,while smoking, and looked up at the stars. The night was a time to talk about these things. Later as a young punk I really did not think I would live past 21.
Now in May I will be turning 58. I am projecting celebration turning 60 in two years as a happy accomplishment. Life is very precious. So many of my close friends are gone as well as my parents. I have learned that letting go of life is a natural process as we get older. I hold onto my experiences, friendships and books a little less each year. Nature is my special key of hopeful continuity of life. The dependability of the sun and stars is great comfort to me. Yes music, poems and art embellish a long life too.For me, as a crone, letting go is the key of life as I get older. It has become easier to let go.
Besides sooner or later we all will be ash in the wind. It is only a matter of time.
William Blake Image form The William Blake Tarot Cards. ~ Ed Buryn
I captured this very small image on a William Blake Tarot Card. I enlarged the image on my iPhone camera. I have a magnifying glass to look over all of his images. There is always something on the cards hiding. This is on the card entitled “EXPERIENCE.”
It is inevitable that I will accumulate experience by living my life. Moving forward even if only sitting in a chair. I value experience over anything.
I have learned that part of growing as a human being is living with paradox, polarity and something more.
That is why I love Blake, he gives me something more. A vast view of life where opposites blend. I then understand my own limitations. There is an inevitable message Blake puts into his work. If I look close enough I joyfully grasp his messages.
“The urge to cure the incurable keeps us from recognizing the essence of our limitations, and the limits that come with the psychopathic essence of personality.”
~ Praxis Pg. 167, The Dream and the Underworld – James Hillman
An inevitable experience was hearing this song played on the Drive In Speaker between movies in the 1970’s. Glad I found it.
The heart and the mind often long for different things.
Longing for understanding where the two come together in knowing peace.
Where one does not try to outsmart the other.
Longing to fit in and longing to run away.
Longing to build a bridge and hang with Hermes.
Longing to create…
Never ending…
Longing for the dead
miss them.
Renewal of hope. Feeling connected with cosmic or universal energies. As Above, So Below. Opening your eyes to the highest potential or your situation. Getting in touch with your own creative powers. Self-esteem. Far-reaching effects. Receiving recognition for your abilities. “Doing your own thing,” no matter what.
stars that fell,
