Black Widow Oblivion

This is another fictional story from The black widow series. Enjoy. All characters are just figments of my imagination. Any or all resemblance to an individual is merely coincidence.

She (the black widow) sat hours in her easy chair, oblivious to the world around her, including her children. She furiously stretched her mind into the massive organ it is by spending countless hours crushing candy as if it were her only reason to live. She spent every waking moment doing as little as possible just so she could crush those striped candies into a big win.

Without a care in the world the widow crushed candy all the while ignoring her husband as if he never existed, whilst her children were raiding the pantry for every sugary, carb loaded treat they could find. Laundry was piled into mountainous heaps in the garage as if the washer itself had violently vomited them across the floor. Which isn’t surprising since the clothes often smelled so putrid and so sour it would make you gag if you smelled them, thinking they were clean.

The widow was typically in a real maddening hurry and had no choice, but to run over the laundry with her car. She never had a problem rolling over those stacks of dirty jeans, t- shirts, towels and underwear like speed bumps in the car line at school. She couldn’t be bothered with that stufg, she was just too tired. She wasn’t even going to be able to cook because she was so tired. Besides, she really needed to get to her easy chair and crush candy.

She spent so much time engrossed in candy bombs that she never saw the beautiful bombs chasing around her very ignored husband by her back. They snickered and laughed, asking him why he was even with her. They loved coming to her parties where she tired to sell some kind of plastic bowl or scented waxy shit because the widow loved to drink. And, when she did… They would go on the hunt for that sexy husband of hers that she didn’t even know she had. She would sit on her sofa, pounding beer from a bottle, laughing about menial things no one really wanted to talk to her about. That gave the perfect little out for a friend to slip out to the garage.

The widows friend spotted the highly attractive husband in the garage. He had been hiding from the cats in the house when one, bad, little kitty escaped. She pawed and nipped hoping he would play. The kitty friend told him the widow never had to know, meowing like a cat in heat.

To be frank here, this sort of thing happened quite often. But, as fate would have it, the widow wouldn’t have noticed. She couldn’t have because, she was so very very busy. Busy making ass imprints on the sofa with her dildo, that is….

It was obvious she didn’t want her husband like the babysitter did. And, she couldn’t possibly want him like those women at church who loved their fitness training. They frequently invited him over for some cross training, if ya know what I mean…

The widow sure loved the energizer bunny, while her closest, and dearest friend was still fantasizing about the time she had her way wity the widows husband. Of course, the dear friend never told the Widow, but then again, she never told the widow she had once warned her husband before their marriage not to marry her because she was a user.

Which of course, all of that said was true. The woman couldn’t do a thing on her own, she needed him to do everything for her or slave her children out. She couldn’t clean the house and she couldn’t cook, and she certainly couldn’t do laundry anymore than she could clean her ass. She was busy you know and that was a chronic problem, but then again so was her month long periods too.

Behind her back people whispered. She thought she had snowed them all including the congregation at her church, but her husband had been two steps ahead the whole time. He never let an opportunity go without sharing to the Pastor and other deacons about her “personal issues”.. Like the one where she puts her ass print on the sofa…

Unbeknownst to her, he forwarded her emails she sent him, photos of food rot crusted in the fridge, laundry stacked in the garage and filth everywhere she never cleaned. He recorded her cussing like a sailor and let the pastor hear what she really sounded like when no one was listening. He even sent the church, the most damning email of all, where she admitted to all her egregious acts.

One day, her husband decided that he had never loved her and put her to the curb. He had only felt sorry for her little snot nose toddler she had when he met her and against his better judgment stayed for the rug rat. But, that rug rat had grown up and it was time. He hadn’t found her attractive for years and years. He couldn’t stand her voice anymore than he could stand her, so… he left.

She thought she had won. She gloated around town like she had just taken him to the cleaners, except he didn’t want anything she got. Andvthe best part was he had the last laugh. He had bested her in her own playground.

Every week she went to church after he left, and told the poor abandoned wife tale, they placated her and then snickered all over again. They laughed and made fun of her knowing she was the liar and fake that she was. They knew, because her husband made sure to let everyone know the truth, just before he divorced her. In fact, she may never have known what all those sideways glances were actually for and probably wouldn’t have wanted know either.

She had been made a fool in her own backyard. If it couldn’t get any worse for her, it did when her son began telling the world about her drunken escapades with men from dating apps. She thought no one knew, but everyone knew. Her place of employment knew, her church, her neighbors and even her so called friends.

The black widow had been stripped of her power and dethroned. Her crown was stripped and she had to sell the big house, trade in the mom mobile and take the demotion in front of the entire world and God.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Black Widow Poison Eater

The slight itch grew, although mild for a second, became a frenzied clawing motion just shy of mind numbing. She never thought the itch could get worse, but it had. The itch moved into her skin as if it were apart of it, biting and nawing itself raw. Delusional with it’s interference, she could barely think straight, let alone do anything. Her mind was always focused on the unyielding burn in her flesh. It never ceased to stop because it was always there. Occasionally, she would get occupied enough to forget it’s annoyance, but just when she did it emerged back with a vengeance. It stirred her thoughts and chased her everywhere she went.

Of course, the itch was only an itch that is, until she allowed it to fester into a disease. It took over her ever waking thoughts like a plague and haunted her dreams. It pulled at her brain every time she dressed herself or looked in the mirror. She let it naw at her to the point she couldn’t even do the simplist of tasks without it ravaging her thoughts like poison.

What she would never understand is that the disease was derived from nothing short of poison. Easily fed she lapped it up like a gluttonous pig, eating it by the spoonfuls.

She couldn’t help herself, because with every bite she took the more addicted to it she became. She craved it like a drug, wanting it over anything else in the world. She tried to tell herself she didn’t like it and that it was awful and vile, but the truth was she couldn’t get enough.

She ate and ate until it bloated her head and ate at her blackened soul. She let it devour her without ever knowing it had been feeding on her, hollowimg her out like a pumpkin.

She couldn’t hide it and when other people saw her infection, turning away, she found a million low hanging excuses to justify why “she” wasn’t at fault. It was always someone else’s problem and never hers because she thought she was perfect in every way. She had only had bad things happen to her not the other way around where she was the one being abusive and cruel to those around her. She never even saw how her little chickens were carbon copies of herself, incapable of love because they had never been taught how to love.

But, that of course wasn’t her fault. It was someone else’s fault. It wasn’t, her fault, she had only but a couple of friends, never keeping any for long periods of time. It was their fault. It wasn’t her fault she couldn’t get or keep a boyfriend, there wete things wrong with them, not her.

She didn’t even understand why the surroundings of her choosing were sub par. If you guessed it was somone else’s fault, you would be correct. You see, narcissistic people ways find the right poison the fastest. The gravitate to it out of their own need to be important. They need attention and a stroked ego. They want to find every fault in someone else so to justify why they are somehow better and when that isn’t enough they will attempt to attack someone they have no business attacking.

In fact, they think the poison is made just for them and it is. They just don’t understand the true nature of it. It’s like feeding candy to a baby. Every good witch can spot it early on and begin working her magic. It’s quite easy and takes little or no effort. To be precise, it’s like weaving a blanket. You begin with the first stitch, looping each thread into another, building it one square at a time until after a while you have sown a beautiful quilt ready for the taking.

Poison is the easiest to give and in a sense it’s her own greediness that gets her the most. Ultimately, she will hang herself right in front of everyone, showing the world the ugliness she truly is. But, by then the damage is done, irreversible actually.

If you come close, I’ll whisper to you what the poison is, but… Shhh you mustn’t tell. It’s a secret you know.

Are you listening… Words. The poison is words. That’s it.

All you have to do is feed a person a bundle of words they can search for and when they gobble them like a starving dog you won’t have to do another thing. The words do it all for you.

Character is defined by who you are when no one is looking. When your heart is pure, words have no affect. Those magical words, can’t hurt you, mostly because you already know who you are. And so does everyone else. You’re loved by many and people that barely know you love you immediately. That’s when you know your immune to the poison.

If your heart is blackened and you look to take without ever giving an ounce, expect what isn’t deserved and couldn’t show love or empathy without killing yourself first, then get ready to be eaten alive.

Thank you for reading ❤️

The Artful practices of a Witch

THAT WHICH IS BELOW CORRESPONDS TO THAT WHICH IS ABOVE, AND THAT WHICH IS ABOVE CORRESPONDS TO THAT WHICH IS BELOW, TO ACCOMPLISH THE MIRACLE OF ONE THING, THROUGH THE MEDIATION OF ONE MIND, SO DO ALL CREATED THINGS ORIGINATE FROM THIS ONE THING THROUGH, TRANSFORMATION.

Witchery is most often misunderstood and typically by those with the inability to think bigger than their linear worlds allow. If a person, such as myself decides to understand the world in its complexity, and, all for the sake of enlightenment, then I must see the things that are undeniably in front of me.

The spiritual aspect is the greatest one, and if anything, it’s the single most important one altogether. Communication to Source/G-d, goes way beyond the act of prayer by simply bowing a head and talking to what most people think of as an empty space. I’ve heard countless times different people explain that they hope God heard their prayer as if be wouldn’t for some reason or walk away from prayer as if it was a request tossed into a box fof review. In other words, talking into a phone without ever waiting for someone to awnser.

Witchery is far beyond the “casting” of “Spells”. A person must actually have an intuition first and that’s a whole different conversation, but it essentially begins with a very intimate, two – sided conversation between source/G-d and the “witch”.

These conversations and the sheer ability to do it, set you apart from the rest. And, witchery, and not necessarily Wiccan as that’s a completely different form, is derived from those gifted enough to tune into our higher being. We use that as a medium or backdrop into which we create energy for healing, growth and really, a million other categories.

Christianity, and when I say that I loop that as most people following or categorizing themselves under that title, not the actual meaning of of being Christian, with that said, in my opinion, Christianity is like the warning label on a hairdryer. It stands as those ridiculous instructions written for simple minded people prone to stupidity and require a certain set of rules to follow. They are the same people who never take the time to ask the question, “what if there was more?”

“What if, (I) can actually use the G-d energy to work through me like the early Alchemists did, and or mistakenly labeled as magic?” “What benefits could I have from healing others, growing herbs and (i. e. poisonous plants) for the sake of healing tinctures and other compounded apothecaries?” Or even “Can I change the structure of a persons emotional state, spirit or outlook just by fixing a special tea or prepared nourishment ?”

The awnser to that is, yes. So, by using the G-d energy through direct communication and conjuring if the mind (power of thought) we can manifest powerful things. These conjurings, in most cases have been life changing for many people. Some even without their own knowledge and that goes to say there are some out there working magic unbeknownst to themselves and unknown to those they encounter. In modern terms we become doctors, herbalists, artists, green witches and even house witches. There are by far plenty more titles in specific genres or areas in which we work but for now I’ll just labeled the easiest to understand.

I think it’s also important to understand the meaning of, that which is above is like that which is below. I think it should be studied and pondered, not as scripture but as divine insight into something greater than it was even originally written about. Insights, communication and enlightenment often comes when we least expect it and it is with the trained eye and ear that we recognize it when it comes to us.

So, if you have done this and study this you will find that Heaven and Earth mirror each other, over lapping. Again, this particular subject is another separate conversation, but essentially the mind is the conduit that powers everything, the engine. That includes energy around us, and, those of us skilled enough that they can manipulate that very exact and precise energy into what we need it to do.

I’ve written a few times before about the ideas inside the popular book titled the “Secret.” However, that book was based from the anonymously written book “A Course in Miracles”, as a kind of… compendium to the written stories in the Bible. Let me clarify that it’s not as a second book of the Bible or even considered as one but more like the instructions to the Bible that are missing.

I have used these practices for quite some years in exactly as I spoke, art but more so in the teas and soups to achieve healing in different forms with 100% success. All of which is documented in my grimoire, in great detail. These writings are private and only used or shared through me to another witch. I do not publish them in any way. Why? Because they are my spells, specific to me. Most are instinctual and created from that very spiritual center inside my being.

It’s important for every practicing witch to do these things on her own, in conjunction to deep meditation, G-d energy and communications. It’s a deeply spiritual experience and truthfully, most people aren’t capable of doing the work it takes to get to this place. You, She, the practing witch, must shed her skin in a sense, to rid herself of earthly baggage. This, is a huge undertaking, and only when this has been done can you move into a spiritual, light worker or witchery workings.

It came naturally to myself and my work only took intent focus. Others, it takes longer but if the call is there, you will be successful.

Thank you for reading ❤️

The Southern Oracle

In Alchemy, First Matter is the source of all things. It’s the very essence of changing all things light and dark, manifested and unmanifested in grand pattern of transformation. Essentially, I’m the first matter in the Southern Oracle. The oracle itself, is not only a great story being told through these series of paintings, but also a phenomenal transformation into something visual and tangible. In this way, I’m not only the First Matter but the Alchemist. Welcome to my laboratory.

The Southern Oracle is not only an exceptionally personal body of work but on a whole the entire embodiment of myself without all the identifying details. These paintings are equally composed with components of creation, the four seasons, the four elements and Quintessence. Which, in my head takes a complex entity and simplifies it. To further explain this concept, let me start with the focal point of my story.

There are many names for us, and as I have discussed this topic before, many times, I never put it in conjunction with my work. Throughout the ages we have been labeled, Divine feminine to Goddess and one my favorites, Pythoness as well another charming one, Witch. But, what we really should be called is, Creators. We were given the womb, the gift to create life and do it is that a woman is divine in nature naturally but then there are those of us who are further gifted with sight, touch and power. We, are the true Alchemists in nature. Meaning, we can take many things of different components and use a form of transmutation to yield into something far greater than it began. We have one hand inside the below and one in the above.

Essentially, we are all witches. We have celebrated our abilities by healing, governing our power through silent manipulation and creation. We use our hands to manifest a sacred energy from crown to root and whisper words that only the animals hear. We are not only chosen, but we are rare. What we don’t do is wear black pointed hats, ride broom sticks or pray to the devil. That, of course is all myth and has been highly disputed as nothing more than masculine propaganda in order to dethrone what it sacred, divine and holy.

THE WHITE PHASE.

We understand that our “power” our “magic” comes from understanding the overlapping of two worlds. One in the ether and the other here, earth. We walk between the two, pull divine energy, hear the messages for translation and celebrate our sisterhood. We are not only unique, but yet also have a great purpose. In this world, we are the very last threads in the very special, and required, balance.

Perhaps you’re wondering how a series of paintings could be based on such a big concept? That’s because, as I stated before, the complexity is also and equally, simple. Very few minds are capable of understanding such knowledge through imagery, most of which is lost to the common person as nothing more than a “Pretty painting”. However, there are those special enough, in tune enough enough, to see the very obvious symbols, symbolism and placement of the images in such a way they instantly read the otherwise obscure message, clearly. The real question is, can you?

Once, or twice in history, we were sought out, hunted and murdered for being advocate of the devil. We were believed to be under demon influence or practice dark magic in which God and the mighty band of Archangels were our enemies. That, couldn’t be further from the truth. Hence, the white phase. Call us what you like, I prefer my first name, however, we have always walked along side the Angels in the light. We seek our wisdom, strength and healing from God as well as we silently play shepherd to the sheep filled world.

These paintings are the most truest representation of not only myself, but my sisters. We hold sanctuary in each other and almost instantly find one another like magnets drawn together by force. I honor them, myself and all those before us. I do so because for once, I am exactly as I was meant to be and I am so much more than just an painter or any linear label.

I welcome you to find enlightenment through a higher vibration. I encourage you to seek the things only slightly hidden for those are the things we must all take a moment for.

To know the secrets of the universe, first you must go to Source, the First Matter, God and… BE STILL AND SILENT WITH ME AND YOU SHALL KNOW.

Thank you for reading ♥️

With balance, I’m only whole because I have the greatest strength in my entire existence. I have been forever reunited with my twin flame. There is no greater love. In that way, the Universe has righted itself.