Sunday, July 29, 2007

Merry Meet Full Moon

Today's Full Moon (8:48 pm EDT) is significant because it is very close to the Lughnasadh (Lammas) Sabbat ("historically" celebrated on August 1st or on July 31st, the Eve of "Lughnassad" depending upon one's geographic and hemispherical locale).

This Sol Day is indeed a wonderful one for performing your spellwork, rituals, and finishing (completing) "time-sensitive" workings of Wytch you may have initiated prior...including, personal protection, revenge, binding, hexcraft, etc. We (the Temple of Kemetic Wicca) are not "fluffy" by no means because the life is what it is and there are many silly peoples in our mundane world out to cause much harm daily! Therefore, leveling the playing field (via Witchcraft, Alternative Spiritual practices, and/or Applied Magick in no certain order) is necessary in order to protect you and yours. Preventative Maintenance is thee key to protecting you and yours within the many Pagan communities of all ages. There are numerous ritualistic ways to engage this Full Moon and thee upcoming Sabbat.

Just keepin' it real--that is, Witchcraft, Wise Craft, and Magick wise...

Merry Part

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Actaeon: The Legend

Since many folks do indeed practice or engage in the (Alternative) Arcane Religions and Spiritual Arts, some of the following information may be useful with regard to working with Actaeon and other Deities:

[1] "Actaeon in Greek Mythology"

[2] "Actaeon"

[3] "Actaeon"

Based on my own experientials with many Deity, including Actaeon:
The key aspect any practitioner within the Craft or any other Alternative Spirituality should (or must) consider is "transgression(s)" when Divinities are concerned. Legend, Mythology or not--ancestral Goddesses, Gods, Spirits, and Entities do exist in many ways, shapes, and morphologies within our collective universe...and especially, on our Earth in the here and now.

Trust your human instinct, senses, feelings and notions with much concern about superstition, including your own--especially, those of you who are "non-believers". For, if you have not realized by now, folklore-superstition continues to be credulous and has proven results (good or bad) historically...and of course, astrally and cosmically.

Being open-minded to one's spiritual realm and environment is the key to one's own personal spiritual enlightenment....

Blessed Be em Hotep!

Friday, July 27, 2007

"The Hieroglyphics of Horapollo Nilous"

"Horapollo, the traditional author of this work, was one of the last priests of the Ancient Egyptian religion in the fifth century C.E. His only extant work is this, the Hieroglyphica, which claims to be an explanation of the Egyptian Hieroglyphs, mixed with a great deal of ancient, and often wrong, natural history. It was translated two centuries later into Greek. The text was rediscovered in 1422, and it was first put into print in 1505..."

Source & Full Text -

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Balanced Pondering: Gung Fu (Kung Fu)

As taught and trained from a young age, thee Martial Arts are all about enlightenment...

As taught and trained from a young age, the short sword techniques are about grace and balance...

As taught and trained as an adult in the immortal words and wisdom of Sifu H.A. Diop:

"One never needs to defend one's honor in the Life...unless, YOU allow this to be or to become compromised!"

As having become a learned man and having ascended through multitudes of mind, body, and spiritual exercises, practices, and experientials within the presentation of everyday life...


~Frater Dokteur Kheti

Monday, July 23, 2007

Ailanthus Bark (Chunpi)

Chinese Name:

PinYin Name:

Common Name:
Ailanthus Bark, Tree of Heaven Bark

Botanical Name:
Ailanthus altissima (Mill.) Swingle

Pharmaceutical (Latin) Name:
Cortex ailanthi

Large intestine, stomach, and liver

Parts Used:
The bark roots and/or stems can be gathered throughout the year. After removing the superficial rough bark, the remaining bark can be dried in the sun and then cut into pieces for further uses or help with:

Anti-Cancer medicinal plant (Possibly)
Intestinal astringent
Microbial worms

For further study, see Incan / Andean Shamanism where the words (nouns) "chunpi, chumpi" literally mean the word "belt" (of living energy within Andean Mysticism).

Sunday, July 22, 2007


Hetep & Namasté,

This is just a tip for those of you (Witches and Pagans) who may be or are a little tight on financial resources and wanting to help "fill" your cauldron(s), magickal or mojo bag(s) or cupboard(s) with your necessary or needed supplies in order to carryout your daily spiritual or magickal work. Gee, good candles, herbs, and incense can cost a small fortune. As for herbs, not everyone has a "green thumb" just like not everyone is an artist or crafts person just because s/he is a Witch. And frankly, not every Witchy type wants to grow herbs, paint pictures of our Deities, craft vases, mugs, or bowls, bead or make jewelry, etc. BARTER your knowledge, skills, and services to another! This might be easier said than done but there are folks who are not motivated or captivated (held hostage) by greed, capitalism, and commercialism who are willing to exchange goods and services.

Otherwise, find a Witch who truly and seriously specializes in Money – Prosperity Spellwork…or go write a book or two, make a movie or two about what Wicca (the religion) and Witchcraft (the practicum) are absolutely "ARE NOT" about and further continue the legacy of misunderstanding, religious and social intolerance, and mis-education that so many folks have bought into, including many of the Pagan persuasion!

As quiet as it's kept--not all Witches practice similar forms or types of Witchcraft; and not all Pagans are Wiccans or Witches....

All in all, barter--and don't exploit!

Just keepin’ it real…

That's my Sol (God Re) Day Sermon,

Blessed Be,

Rev. Frater K.A. Sahure VIº, D.D. (D.Div.)
Temple of Kemetic Wicca
Priests & Priestesses of Ma'at

Saturday, July 7, 2007



Hear the words of the Goddess,
To all her daughters.

Fear not, Child;
For I am with you as you turn toward womanhood,
The time of menarche, the time of blossoming.
You reflect the radiant beauty of the Maiden.
Dressed in pale colors or white
And with flowers in your hair;
With your sweet smile and dancing step,
You know that all of life is before you.
You are to be Celebrated.

Fear not, Young woman;
For I am with you as you blossom into your full
Sexuality, learning the joys of love and sex,
And the mysteries of childbirth.
You reflect the mature beauty of the Mother.
Dressed in bright colors,
And with your head held high;
You are experiencing the knowledge of life.
You are to be Honored.

Fear not, Elderly woman;
For I am with you as you turn to old age,
Into the WiseWoman.
Your blood stays inside your body and turns into
Wisdom; you are a help to others with guidance
And healings.
You reflect the wisdom and magic of the Crone.
You have the serenity of a life well-lived,
And the knowledge that you will join your loved ones
In the Afterlife, before you are reborn.
You are to be Revered.

Come, my Daughters!
Dance with me,
For you also are Goddess.

© Copyright 12/7/05
Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Amazon)



I tore off little pieces of my flesh,
And handed them to you. "Here", I said,
"Now love me. Or if you can’t love me,
Then let me be myself."

But the pieces of flesh were not enough
For you. "Give me more, give me all of
Yourself, hand over all your hopes and

I wound pieces of cloth around the bloody
Gashes. I stuck pieces of paper to the smaller
Wounds. There was peace for awhile.

Then came the first time that our wishes
And goals clashed. More pieces of myself
Were needed, to keep the peace.

This time the pieces of cloth had to be wider;
The tears that dripped upon the wounds
To heal them with their salt, were heavier
And more bitter.

Then came a time when I had outgrown
The need to be constrained. This time, you
Tried to tear of pieces of me yourself;
But I had learned to love myself, by that time.

"No," I said. And then I said a little prayer,
And felt a peace come over me. "I am
A child of the Great Mother, and am whole
In that love.

Never again will anyone take pieces from
Me, either of my flesh, or of my heart; and
Love freely given and freely taken, does
Not take away, but adds to the soul."

© Copyright 11/1/05
Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Amazon)



Blue gray storm clouds covered the sun
I see them floating about and getting thicker;
they look threatening and fierce,
ready to destroy us with their storms.

We look small below them and unimportant
they can crush us with cold rain and hail,
frighten us with their thunder
and the spears of the lightnings they send.

I can see behind the clouds! There are warriors,
blue gray warriors hiding, ready to spring
throwing their spears, pelting us with hail,
flattening the earth so they can rule again.

It must be the Norse warriors... the fiercer ones,
not the bright Valkyries on their flying horses.
Perhaps they are enemies, let us call;
call to the Valkyries to protect us!

Here they come, whirling around on their steeds,
bright hair swirling, battle cries with high notes,
fighting the dark, fierce warriors
who would destroy us with the thunder and hail.

What beautiful armor, white winged horses,
bows and arrows, runes on their armbands...
swoop down so I may ride behind you
let me be a battle-maiden too, serving Freya!

Teach me your battle-cries, paint my face with runes,
proud warriors! May I be your sister?
Like glittering Brisingamen, the sun shines again,
glowing upon your armor...

The shadow warriors dissipate, the clouds roll away,
the Valkyries have won the battle.
My warrior sisters must fly back to Valhalla,
but they will come for me in the dream-time.

© August 2005
Beth Johnson
(Mystic Amazon)



Everywhere I go, storms form and roil
Around me; soon the darkness gathers,
And the wind whips at my gown.
The thunder rumbles along with me as I
Walk, it moves me forward, and
Comforts me with it's familiar sound.

The lightning flashes it's brightness,
Comes through through me with it's
Power, and fires shoot from my hands.
Beware! do not come near me;
There is danger in my wild beauty, and I
Have learned sorcery from distant lands.

I have come from Egypt, as a daughter
of Isis and learned in her magicks, both
Dark and bright. Even the stars above
Are captured in my cloak...see them?
And they will burn you, as I will...
So do not talk of passion, or of love.

I draw the large cats to me, they come
From many lands, to curl near me and purr
And tear apart those who seek to hold
One who only plays with mortal kind;
Practicing storms in the quiet desert until
Great Mother calls me back to her fold.

I have never known a human man, nor
Have I been touched. I play with fires
And destinies, yet something is absent
From my heart. Even furry cats cannot take
The place of love, though it is only a vague
Thought or memory, a fleeting sense....

Of what could be. But you dare not touch me,
I am an immortal, a handmaid though still free;
Free to play at life with humans as my dolls...
They are unable to be my equal, yet humans
Have what I lack; my heart is unused and withering.
Soon my Soul will die, caring not what befalls.

I have wandered too far from the love of the
Mother; played too often with thunder and fire.
I was human once, a Pharoah's queen;
Then fires of immortality burned my heart.
Now I amuse myself with humans as a game,
And deep inside, grieve what might have been.

© Copyright 10/17/05
Beth Johnson
(Mystic Amazon)



Lukewarm beer and cold champagne
Well, one out of two isn't bad...
At least the barbecue here isn't tough,
Even if I can't get my husband George to dance
Since it's mostly square dancing music.

I tried to line dance, but my bra strap
Kept falling down, and it made me lose count.
There's nothing worse than lukewarm beer.
My brother-in-law Clyde is here with his prissy wife.
That doesn't thrill me one bit!

SaraNell's gotten a new fashion frizzy perm
That she is sure to brag about (always does);
She must have three inches of black roots showing.
Heehee! Serves her right.
She never knew her ass from her elbow anyway.

Gawd! Don't tell me Clyde is going to try and dance
With me, he is all feet and must be size 13, too.
Yep, he is...dammit! Ouch!
If we didn't owe them money, I would sock him one.
Or even better, knee him. Clumsy idiot.

I think the lukewarm beer is coming back up on me,
Maybe if I was to back it down with some champagne?
Mmmm! Tastes pretty good. I think it says Cold Duck.
Now that is an odd name for champagne.
Stop whirling me around, George. It makes me dizzy.

How are the children? Well hell, I don't know.
They are all over eighteen anyway. You go look for them.
I'm having another glass of the Cold Duck stuff. *hic*
Come on, George! Show 'em how fast your feet can move!
Whoopsie!.... I think I will sit the next one out.

© August 2005
Beth Johnson
(Mystic Amazon)



Black heart, cold feet
Dirty hands, sticky treat;
Hairy head, sad sad heart
Merry meet and merry part.

Sickly pale, sickly sweet
Icy knees, prickly heat;
Bucky teeth, oh so smart
Merry meet and merry part.

Round and round, back again
Full of chocolate, full of pain;
Stick together, pull apart
Merry meet and merry part.

Pointed hats and flat chapeaus
Fishnet stockings, moldy hose;
Big red dragon, a pony cart
Merry meet and merry part.

© August 2005
Beth Johnson
(Mystic Amazon)



I have let my hair down
To feel it flowing all around me,
And my feet and I are bare.

I will follow you wherever you go
You cannot run from me,
Or I will send my laughter

Out upon the wind to haunt you
And I will sing softly,
Sing you back to me

And you will have no choice.
I will touch you with these fingers
Gently, upon your shoulder

So you cannot move.
Now my enchantments swirl
In colors, all around you

Holding you in place.
I will not let you leave me,
Only my lips will ever kiss you.

You have tried to break my magicks
But my chains are pulling tight
Yes, tighter still around you.

I am wearing scented oils
Blended with my blood and yours
Oh, turn back to me with love...

Or stay a prisoner and enchanted!
A frozen statue without kisses,
With only memory's torment.

© Copyright 7/07/07

Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Raven)

Poetry by Mystic Raven: "THREE TIMES FOR THE RUNES"


I threw the Runes three times
Three times they told me you were faithless,
Three times I screamed at them.

I went outside and howled
So our children could not hear me
Innocents all, fast asleep and dreaming.

I saw the cooking fires near our hut,
Visions in the smoke came to me
And you were holding her

I saw your gold armband
Runes I painted on it to keep you safe,
And she was in your arms.

I threw the Runes three times,
Three times they told me you were faithless
I screamed for your death,

And stabbed my dagger into the smoke.
I saw you fall, and as you fell
You turned and saw me

Saw me, though so far away
Took off your armband and threw it,
And it landed at my feet.

Now I have only a bloody armband
The sight of you in her arms, laughing
And your eyes in our children's faces.

© Copyright 7/07/07

Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Raven)

Poetry by Mystic Raven : "THE BARS ACROSS MY HEART"


My love kept me in the house
Anxiously trying to please him,
Hovering around so he wouldn't criticize.
I used to see bars on the windows and doors

But the way he treated me,
I might as well have been wearing
A chastity belt, because
The cruel behavior locked up my love;

So I took my heart back
And it belonged only to me.
Now it belongs to the love I feel
Toward the Lord and Lady,

And the love and compassion
That I feel coming from Them.
And there are no locks
No more prison bars;

The only thing that holds me back
Is when i lose faith in myself,
Because I know that the Deities
Believe in me, and I am Their daughter.

It's not that easy to accept freedom
I have been used to limitations
First placed on me by others,
Then placed on me by myself.

What is it like to be free? I don't know...
I hope You will teach me,
Teach me to love strongly and deeply,
So my heart will glow with a Divine Spark.

© Copyright 7/07/07
Beth Clare Johnson (Mystic Raven)

Friday, July 6, 2007

Poetry by Mystic Raven: "IS LOVE AN ILLNESS?"


Sometimes it seems that
Love is just a disease,
And without it life is meaningless
But with it, well...

There has to be enough chemistry
And several cups of passion
With a lot of affection
And very little sarcasm

Or things overbalance
In one way or another,
And then it gets depressing
Tears dripping all over the place

And you wonder why bother
Until the next time you are yanked
To and fro by feelings,
Totally bewildered with the angst
Of it

Angry and sulky with Eros,
Shooting you with the damned arrows
Not enough to be unselfish,
Just enough to get frustrated

When things aren't romantic
Or you get bored with sameness;
Or someone else looks better
Without his shirt on the beach, mmm.

Wishing you could go back
And start over again with old lovers
But knowing they would still
Drop you for someone in spike heels

Wondering what is true love anyway
And how to find it,
Looking in the mirror at someone
That's older and crankier

And less likely to put up with any crap
Or play games like she used to,
Although flirting is okay
As long as there are ground rules

I think I'll go into the closet and cry
Until I get the courage to call,
Call out to the Old Ones and ask
If I can go running with Diana and Pan

Banging on a drum and singing,
With all the wildness that must be
Throwing pine cones and laughing

Not worrying about the status quo
And measuring up to an ideal
Just being natural and dancing
Barefooted in the forest

Wearing flowers on my head
And not very much else...
(Thank God no one wears girdles anymore,
Especially in the forest)!

© Copyright 7/06/07

Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Raven)

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

Poetry: "Magic"

"Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves,
And ye that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
When he comes back, you demi-puppets that
By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,
Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'd
The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault
Set roaring water; to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak
With hiw own bolt; the strong-bas'd promontory
Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck'd up
The pine and cedar; graves at my command
Have wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forth
By my so potent art."

Ancient Roman Poet
(43 BCE - 17 CE)

As translated by William Shakespeare
The Tempest
Act 5, Scene 1

Tuesday, July 3, 2007


"Take rest; a field that has rested gives a bountiful crop."

Monday, July 2, 2007

Musing 07.02.07

Understanding the many metaphysical processes (such as, astral projection, spiritual enlightenment, the alchemy of ritual work, and so forth) within the Universe often times occurs once there has been an infusion of Divine Will, Energy, Knowledge and Wisdom by the Deities.