Throne room of a Queen

Careful how you play your cards with a Queen in your hand.

The Queen approached the throne and took her rightful seat. She looked upon the creature before her as if just the sight of it had put something sour in her mouth. The creature knealt before her, glaring at the Queen with a stone like face and pinched eyes.

The Queen waved a hand at the creature, “I shall warn you once, if I lose my temper, off with your head”

The creature growled at her feet, pawing at the ground while white foam began to form at the corner of its mouth.

The Queen chuckled, she was rather amused by this display of rabidry. She spoke to her guardsmen without ever turning to look at him, “Gaurd, what exactly is this little delightful thing?”

The guardsmen leaned to her ear keeping a watchful eyes upon the growling creature, shrugging “Your Majesty, I do not know. I was summoned earlier as it followed the King in earlier this morning. He was mumbling something about the roses.”

The Queens eyes perked up, “The Roses?” she asked in mirth. “What on earth happened to his delightful roses?” she quizzed. When no one offered a reply, she looked back upon the creature at her feet, eyeing it sternly “And what of this do you know little beast ?”

The creature only growled between its teeth, shaking its head like a dog with itchy ears. The Queen tossed her hands up, “Well, now that was quite pointless, wasn’t it?” she said exaggerated.

The Queen snapped her fingers bringing her equerry running, “Your. Majesty, how may I be of service!?”

She leaned an elbow on her throne, eyeing the creature as she so delicately touched her chin, ” What do you suppose we do with it? Should we let it roam on the lawn?”

The equerry shrieked “OH heavens no! With all due respect, your Majesty, but we can not allow such a thing to be seen by everyone visiting the kingdom. Why, this would be most embarrassing, don’t you think?”

The Queen smiled ruefully, “I have always admired your charm, I do believe you’re correct, I shall think of a place but I am most curious of what happened to those roses.”

The head gardener stepped out from behind the crowd that gathered behind the creature, “Your Majesty, if I may approach?”

The Queen looked even more amused by this turn of events, “Yes of course, please do.” she said summoning the Gardner with a subtle wave.

The Gardner formally bowed, “Your Majesty, this… Um.. Well this thing here, it was caught painting the Kings white roses, red.” he told her fidgeting nervously.

The Queen’s raised an eyebow, “Is that so?” she said now putting her attention to the creature. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

“The creature glared before it spat out,” I DIDN’T DO IT” in a hiss.

The Gardner gasped, clutching his chest, clearly taken by the debauchery, “Your Majesty, do not be lead astray, I caught that little thing red handed”

The Queen laughed, “Red handed eh? Is that in the literal sense or in a manner of speaking?” The Gardner thought a minute, “Oh, well… Yes actually. Both.”

“Ah” she said “So you caught this creature taking the beauty of those white roses by painting them with fake color, paint you say?”

The Gardner bowed graciously, “I did your Majesty, as well as my wife. She saw it too.”

A small woman wearing gardening attire stepped out from the crowd just behind her husband, she curtsied quickly, “Your Majesty, I’m the Gardners wife. And I too saw it do this.”

The Queen looked them over and then smiled sweetly, “Thank you both. You may step down Gardner.” she said putting up a finger “And, upon my gratitude for catching this vermin, you may have the rest of the day off. I pray you shall take your wife for a lovely holiday this afternoon? “

The Gardner looked stuck, “Oh. Why yes your Majesty. Yes I will. Thank you.” he bowed as he quietly backed down the steps so not to turn his back upon the Queen. Everyone knew such things often cost a person their head.

The Queen looked at the creature, “So you speak lies little creature, after you defaced my husbands roses! How do you awnser this?”

The creature glared with all the hatred at the Queen as if it might not awnser when finally, “I told you, I didn’t do it, and YOU can’t prove it.!” it hissed, taking a hand out slashing the air as if it’s claws could touch her.

“Well, now. You have quite the position little thing beneath me, but I might remind you that I do sit above you and for that matter you shall remain as you as. I shall give you one more chance to confess your crime and ask of my forgiveness.” said the Queen calmly.”

With that, the creature lunged towards the Queen in a growl, as if it wanted to rear her throat out. The Queen watched without ever moving in fear as the creature was no match for the Gaurdsmen. The Gaurd held the creature out in front of the Queen like a puppy.

Gasps, sighs of exasperation and sea of shocked faces watched as the Queen stood unblinking before the dangling creature, “Kill it” she said.

The creature looked on in horror never thinking the Queen would do such a thing. Just in that moment the King joined his Queen at her side. The creature looked even more terrified than before.

The King looked over the creature, evaluating it as it hung there by the Gaurdsmen hand, “Your Royal Highness, my darling wife, it dies look rather pathetic and I have purchased new roses to fill the void, perhaps we banish this one out the garden gate.”

The Queen looked to her husband adoringly, “Yes. That’s a lovely idea.” she told him.” turning her attention to the Gaurd ” Banish it. ” she ordered. The Gaurdsmen turned heel, taking the creature with him.

The Queen and King took their seats next to one another as they symbolically clasp hands in display of unity. The Queen waved a child up as she listened to her offer her business idea for selling roses with inquiries for the Queen and Kings help. Both the Queen and King, loved hard working people who wanted to earn their way, and decided with ease that they would give the young girl all the money she desired to start her business. Everyone cheered for the girl and as this day went further, every person who showed kindness, love, respect and acceptance got exactly what they were seeking.

But, the one thing they all knew about their loving Queen, she can tolerate ąlot of things, but if you take a run at her, “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD! “

Thank you for reading ❤️

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.

We are all laughing now.

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 ❤️

Hypervigilent Me.

There is a moment in everyone’s life where we must ask ourselves if what we are doing is worth it. The next question, Is the action worth what you will benefit?

In my own need to avoid failure, I have chosen the route of brutal honesty. I know that if I attempt to be someone I’m not or even pretend to be accepting, have certain opinions or have beliefs I do not, I’ll most definitely fail. Why? That’s really simple for me to awnser, because I know I will fail. I’m incapable of the lie. I think it’s also because I have a strong sense of who I am and how I feel about something or an idea.

If I were to try and go against that, over time I’d end up letting the cat out of the bag. At that point, I have most likely disappointed someone in some way.

Therefore, I have to be true to myself even when the majority of people prefer the lie over the truth. And, that’s what I have found over the course of my life, people just don’t like the truth. That goes for pretty much anything and any topic.

Amazing really, but I understand it.

However, in the particular subject I’m referring I honestly have so many thoughts that it’s hard to compound them into something that is decipherable. There seems to be so many layers upon layers of emotion and just when I get past one, I find another waiting.

In a nutshell, I realize that if I’m forced to (deal/put up) with a certain individual who is nothing short of a miserable, unhappy and bitter person just so I can be around another, the choice is clear. I’ll pass on all of it.

I would like to actually write further about this in a more detailed way and I will, but for now I’m in the early stages of even understanding what has happened.

If I’m in a position to always be the target of someone’s hate then I’ll never be able to be anything more than the eye of a hurricane. I will inevitably be stuck inside the tumultuous winds around me and can never truly escape it.

Unless, I chose to never step inside the eye. And that’s where I’m at. I’m removing myself from the eye and walking completely away because in my opinion it’s just not worth the effort. In other words If I have to tolerate a heinous person just to have a relationship with another, I’d rather just not altogether. I just don’t care that much, and if it makes me a bad person so be it. I can accept it.

I have had to deal with a lot of things in my life that were challenging, difficult and at times down right ugly. Time has passed and that part of my life is over and I finally have the peace, happiness and joy I truly never had. With that being said, I can honestly say, I just don’t have in me to tolerate anything sub par. I don’t have to, and I’m not going to. I refuse to be someone’s target because they themselves can’t put there jealousy, anger and hatred where it belongs, on them. That individual, that one single person, is the very one with the problem. It’s not me. It’s them. And I don’t have to be apart of it. I can separate myself from it and I choose to.

I intend on going further with this because I think it’s important what I want to say and what needs to be said into the universe, but I do need a minute to formulate my words. I need to find them and gather them so I say it right because I truly believe that what I have to say is significant and important.

Perhaps not important to most, but there is atleast one person it might mean something to and even if they never read it, I still need to say it.

So, I’ll close for now with hopes of returning to the continuation very soon.

I’d like to thank my husband, my twin flame and greatest joy for giving me the courage to stand on my own.

Thank you for reading ❤️

Miss. Piggys Menopausal delusion.

I do say your honor, I think that piggish woman might, just potentially be, and or is, slightly menopausal.

I mean, she’s not exactly the most beautiful thing there is to look at with that rotund fat face and short tree trunk legs. Matter of fact, and that is of course if I were guessing, but she seems like the sort of woman who isn’t getting fed enough in her ol piggy pie. If ya know what I mean….

It must be difficult for a fat woman with a shrewed heart and badly cut bangs to find a sausage for her piggy pie. What a sad little world it must be for Miss. Pig, no one to love and no one to use. I don’t think she’s read the book titled Ego, as it is evident hers has taken over in an unsightly way.

If you’re asking me why, I have to think it’s because she is so seething with jealousy her mind is full of pork. Her soul is a fatty ball lumped into her large and sagging chest where she still flips over letting her grown children drink from her nip, although it’s been dry for quite some time.

Ah, yes. Her mouth, you ask….

She does, indeed have a large mouth of teeth to match her fat cankles, but one can’t help such flaws, not all pigs are as perfect as is a swan. Which if you must know, is what made the Pig snorting jealous. The swan.

It must be damning to watch from the mud and shit she stands in at the beautiful swan across the field in a stunning pond of her own. Pig, sad and pathetic as she is, must be forced to watch the Swan elegantly swim so deliciously in the water with her handsome Cob at her side and a brood of beautiful little ones swimming so perfectly behind her. The swan family is as happy as happiness could ever be only reminding Pig, she will always be exactly that, a Pig.

The honorable one speaks.

It is with my expertise and years of experience that it goes against the law of nature to take a Pig from its slop and put in the pond and expect it to be anything other than a Pig.

Someone important, although they remain anonymous, You can take a girl from the trailer park but you can’t take the trailer park outta the girl. Once trash, always trash, or Pig.

This song isn’t about you. None of them are. But, I wouldn’t want them to be.

Thank you for reading ❤️ Everyone knows a Pig.

DISCLAIMER :

These are colorful blog posts written from a vivid imagination about no particular person in general. Any likeness to a person /persons is merely coincidence as it’s all artful storytelling. Cheap. Therapy.

Hermetic Goddess

As above, so below.

This dictum in astrology is the central pillar of Hermetic thought. Essentially, it says the map of the heavens is a map of the earth, and those who can read the heavens will understand the workings of all things on earth.

In a very simple understanding, if I can read the stars as if they were words in a journal, I would have profound knowledge written by God. It has been said in ancient text by the Myan people, fallen angels gave them the foresight to see the stars in such a way and how to decipher them. Hence, the Mayan calendar and further predictions were born. Clearly coming from their ability to read the stars.

This has made me think keenly about what it all means as my mind races to put thousands of puzzle pieces together in one quick instance. What if the map is more than just foresight of what’s to come but, quite literally, a map. What if this map has the ability to show not the “Heavens” but Heaven, itself. And, if that is possible then it also would be able to tell us more than just Heavens layout. It would tell us where God is.

Before I go further, I am aware or in the belief that God is everywhere and in everything. He is the Great matter of all things. The source of which everything began, but let’s suppose that even with that understanding we can reverse the engineering and take apart each layer of this equation. If we do that, then what we would possibly see is the proverbial “man behind the emerald curtain”. Remind you of anything? The Emerald city?

When L. Frank Baum wrote the novella, Wizard of Oz do you suppose he based anything from his writing from the Emerald Tablet?

Baum wrote about an allegorical quest to enlightenment, hence the yellowbrick road of all things to symbolize the Buddhist belief in a “golden path to enlightenment”.

I highly encourage you to actually read the book. It’s quite different from the Hollywood version, by which only highlights the outer most workings of importance in his story.

Which only illuminates the idea that for centuries, those of us in tune enough to look, can see there is something far more important in the constellations than just twinkling lights playing backdrop to the moon in the darkness of night. It’s designed, rather by a breach or on purpose to tell us something. It’s not only a map, but a key. A very important key that unlocks a doorway that most people can’t grasp it’s understanding.

I think it’s important to note here, Alchemists were the first, in a sense, to break down the information and begin to put into action. This is not meant by looking for any such map or doorway, but to attempt this through the transformation of one thong into another through the process of energy.

Alchemists faced plenty controversy being that it appeared to deviate away from religious beliefs and institutions of the earliest times. One such idea in the Alchemists book was called the “Mind the maker”. This particular section was certainly not something you dare mutter allowed in those middle age, witch burning years without putting a person directly on the stake to die by the scorching heat of fire. “Mind the maker” would suggest that God does not directly participate in our world. Instead, God projected the Word of God into our existence as something to the likes of a template to follow or as described in another Alchemy text, a computer program that the Emerald Tablet calls the Pattern. These writings are not something you san over think but let float across your mind. In doing so, if your so capable, you’ll be able to comprehend what it’s saying. I would compare that style of comprehension as the same used to read in the course of miracles. Should you over think or try to analyze too long your mind short circuits and it becomes confusing and indecipherable. In my opinion, that would only given more proof that we have the ability to vibrate at different frequencies like an antenna. Matter of fact, the very principles inside the Emerald Tablet are recognized and used in the teachings of the popularly known movement/book/film known as The Secret.

However, back to where I left off, it would be a mistake to believe Alchemists were not believers of God. In fact, they sought to unveil the divine light in everything, so to perfect it. Which of course was the truest nature of the Great Work. It begins Below, with the duality of matter.

These particular findings were indeed important to the church, but done so with great caution and discretion for certain verbiage. I stated earlier that it was “those who could read the heavens”. In my opinion that would suggest people who are not only in tune, but sighted in some way. Obviously, in those days it meant to be gifted with foresight. To be precise, that meant plainly, the ability to for tell the future or have spiritual communication with spiritual beings. Rather that be the the dead or angels it nevertheless got you the title of being nothing more than a tool to the devil. Alchemists and their studies were slightly reclusive and anti social for lots of reasons, but, it equally did nothing to help their case in being “Godly” followers or believers in Christ. Alchemists were much like the Saint Joan of Arc in the way that the Church was curiously interested in the work and knowledge but never recognized it or forgave those who practiced, minus our lovely maiden, Saint Johanne of Arc. She was one the only humans given Saint status after her execution for what at that time they deemed witch craft.

There’s a theme here. It would suggest further more that those capable of reading, deciphering or understanding these “Heavens” are either burned, crucified, shunned, banned or imprisoned.

Which brings me to question, how do we read it. Especially, if we already have that inclination, then how do we educate or per se, raise our frequency, in such a way that we not only receive divine information, but the education of translation. Is it even truly possible? Although, I strongly believe it is. I believe a certain number of us have this gift and it is coveted or would be by those who are unworthy to understand it.

Which would be the exact reason it’s not easy to do or find without being the “one” who would have enough enlightenment to do so.

This particular knowledge could, and, would, be a dangerous weapon if used improperly. I imagine that would be classified as treasonous enough to piss off a heavenly host of Arch Angel warriors bent on protecting their domains.

Again, I do ponder who might be the reader of such things. The “hermetic” reader. The keeper of the greatest secrets and yet somehow I believe without a doubt is or will mostly definitely be a feminine of the greatest divine light. A Goddess, a witch, a mother, a creator of life and also the apple of God’s affection, a female.

I will further discuss this topic in more depth, next blog post.

Thank you for reading ♥️