Pines

A man my mother saw for many years (I hesitate
To say his name because they broke up, and it was nasty)
Did a lovely thing for us girls (my mother and I); every summer, we went camping
To a sacred mountoun, where as he said later turned out to be true,
Spirits of every sort (think a white robed ghost, the most common kind)
Flew through the trees at night and sang as the wind sang in the tall Pines
A sweet song if you knew how to hear it, nothing to get scarred over, just some friendly
Sprit songs, the “OOOoooOooeeeeEEEeeeeOOOoooOO” like you hear the ghosts sing
In movies and on T.V. Only more beautiful, you’d have to hear it to believe me.

He did another thing also, that I have never forgotten, me a little girl without a father
I still cherish it as the fondest memory, it was a ritual of our little short lived family
Of the time.
He’d make us soup. I don’t mean Cambell’s. I mean real soup, made with as many raw ingredients
As you could imagine in a soup, and then some: chicken (broiled till it melted on your tounge),
Potato’s (so soft, juicey, sweet, in there own way), carrots, sellery, all in broth so spiced and flavored
You’d think you were dining off a King’s bowl, there’s really no other way of describing it, he cooked his soup, in a Big Pot. No one ever, to this day, has made a better soup that I’ve tasted, and I have long loved
Food, so trust me when I say that this soup was truly devine.

After two nights of hearing the ghost’s sing there song in the Pines, of climing down to the
Strawberry Pond, chasing swallows and butterflys (it was the joy of the hunt, I know realise, because who in there right mind would want to take a butterfly out of flight?) we retired to the table on the camp ground site
It was getting cold, he lit a fire for us to be warm, started to cook the soup we so came to love, over
A little green camp stove, I remember the smell of the karosine so rich and sharp.
The camp ground was empty, strangely enough, although it was a place of cingular beauty,
Almost no other camp sites had visitors, or so we thought, as the sky began to darken and the moon
Hung and began its slow climb into the night, a man appeared from somewhere off below our campsite,
He was alone and Mom’s Bf, always the kind and generous man, invite him over, he sat down and was quite
But a pleasant company, he sipped the soup with enjoyment on his face, and hummed a pleasant song using his tounge and teeth as ryhthm instruments
I remember a funny face he made to me, his motive seemed genuine, like an angel from another realm
But he took the form of a man, at least for the moment
My mom’s bf (again, if I say his name he’ll get mad, lol, he still likes my mom), asked if he was religious,
He said yes we read the Bible, it was a moment of closeness with the Earth, with each other and this mysterious stranger, we never caught his name or where he from,
He rose after dinner and thanked us,and ambled on down the path, the explorer rose up in me I waited
A few minutes, “Can I go to the restrooms” they answered yes, I walk to see where he goes,
But he is gone, there is no trace, no little cars at any of the campsites, no camp fires had been lit in recent days
The man was gone, to this day I think he is one of the ghost’s who lives there, I think it was him singing
The song in the Pines, because at our dinner he seemed so musical, I would love to have a chat with him today,
Because as a spiritst I’m interested in learning from spirits, he could have been the protecter of those Pines,
I bet he has many storeys to tell, maybe one day I will see him if I ever go back to visit those Pines,
And hear the storeys, songs, and formulas of magic that brought them to be in the first place.

Channeling 2

So meticulous: A little girl, grown up amongst
Spiritists. Grown up, now.
Setting up the curtins of a living room
To block out light: black curtins.
To remove sensory interuptions, also a cleared floor:
Table, chairs, bookshelf, wall photos of family, ornamental Chinese woman
Swept, dusted: What now? She brings in candels, incense, a crystal ball
The stone (unmentionable, here) is lied in the center of the room
With a black cloth to cover it, for now

Have you ever wondered how spirits know which direction
To fly in? How they travel somewhere when someone calls
Them, to fly, could be anywhere in astral, a millon or billion miles away
How they are able to arrive so fast, never get lost?
The spirits are meticulous, too: there more sensory then
We are. Do not underestimate them. Ask, then:
Why do they come?
Because there fates are interlinked to the living, and so
We channel them, we fly to astral
We project ourself, they project back also
There more eager to find a willing body to inhabit, a temple
Then all of mankind is to worship in a temple, manmade or
Nature, spiritual.

I remember my aunt, she was sometimes called the purple lady
Or a mystical cross between a witch and a word I cant repeat here,
I respect her to much.
She was a spiritist her whole life, she did sences for a living read palms
Tarots, visions, visitations
She would set up her living room to do sences
The people, sometimes alone or couples, would come
And she would use her powers: sparingly, for few were ready
For the spiritual forces she unleashed, many left screaming running
From her home,
A wallet, a purse left on the ground, it contained her payment, and then some
And though she would have given them back,
Most never returned, or were heard from again

The living room ready, I sit in lotus (not easy for me, I’m a large woman, in body
And heart, you see) I begin to meditate, the first rush of a spirit whoosing past
My body, wanting to be let in. The room soon fills, I look I see smoke
I see swarms of spirits swooping around the room, chasing tails like a dog
Might, but these are spirits, there not here for games
I call to a bright one, to come near to me, tell me its name.
“I am Zeemo, I am two thousand years old”---”Go away, you are to young for me”
I call to another, I am looking for a spirit with experience
“You, how old are you” he flys up, he’s purple and his body looks like jello
He tells me about a time when the romens were in battle,
Upon a hill, fighting a enemy wos name I cant remember
They were about to loose, the course of history would have been different
So he blew a gush of wind, and knocked the flanks of soldiers over like
Dandelion seeds in the breeze.
So the Romans won the battle, he was worshiped by the men there
Who were very inviting of bodily intrusion
That is another story, but Azareal became my guide for a short time,
Thereafter, and after I heard all the stories about the old days of Roman warfare,
I got bored and, meticulous channeler that I am, I ejected him
And set up another sence, this time I was in no hurry to call out each spirit
By itself; I let them fight amongst themselves, the ones who want an audience with me the most
Will get it, probably.

Prelude to Channeling Spirits in Winter, 1948

The girl in dappled sunlight---
Her dress, blue and white flower pattern---
Hops in a half-circle
Hair tossing in the wind
The elderly man and his daughter passing by the way
Spy the Yuccaliptis tree hanging ancient
Over her, and her---
Youth and wisdom so seldom contrast,he remarks
Thinking a tree=old, wise
He, like the tree only a spirit,
In a body
Growing old, wise in time to fly to other realms
Astral projection is beauty, age, wisdom combined with
Action.

Ebonnezzer Stone

The stone came from Germany
where it was used by physics
in the 2 World War
to channel spirits
in there war against the allys

It had been recovered, first, long before this
by archiologists lost in the pyramids
down a damp old shaft full of spiders
and the dust of a thousend years of solitude
thinking there end had come, taking out there canteen
to take a cyanide pill the water spilled
washing away a tiney crypt which shot blazing
knifes of light into there eyes
causing one to go blind,and die

The other, Spenser was his name,
use a hammer to brake open the crypt
and found the Ebonnezzer Stone
wrapped in a cloth
hot to the touch
when he try to lift it his skin boiled and caught fire
he put it out in sand
the rumblings grow louder
as the shaft brakes apart and all the bricks start to crash down on him
he thinks hes done for says a prayer before the darkness comes

He awaks thinking it a dream, for hes in a canal below the sphynx water
rushing over him
And there in his bag is the Ebonnezzer Stone, its case (the one he broken)
still in tact, he sees now for the first time the inscription of a demon
on its case "wow thats not egyptian" he remarks

When he gets back to his Jeep, no one is there he starts driving, shacking his head
at whats happened
in three days hes dead, the Ebonnezzer Stone disappeared
The Germans have it now, the war rages on

After the war it is brought to America by a antiques collector,
He thinks its German, he sells it to a little old lady wearing a purple hat
who is a spiritist, who channels spirits and knows what the stone is for her guide
told her. She puts it away, never touches it because she knows its power
"its not for now, its for the end times" she will never touch it, mention it to anyone,
ever

As a little girl I used to visit my aunt's home, I knew of the Ebonnezzer Stone in her attic
even though she never mentioned it, it was so powerful I could feel its presence,
so one day when she was at the market I pretended to be sick so I could stay,
I went rummiging in her attic till I found it, it was in a box underneath a old dusty bookshelf.
Just as I begin to open it, rays of light shot through the room, leaving black burn marks on the walls where it hit
Just then a commotion down below, the door slams open I hear footsteps on the stairs,
My aunt screaming my name, she finds me a blood curdling scream as she falls on her knees,
"You dont touch that" she cries "You not suppose to find that" she says, then she takes me down stairs and begin to tell the story
When its finished Im scared, she says sorry but you had to know, when I die the Ebonnezzer Stone is yours, you are the chosen, you must never look upon it, never tell anyone about it

I have the Ebonnezzer Stone, I learned to use its powers in a sence, I never use the powers for evil only for good. The stone protects my home, once a burglar tried to come in but he immediatly turned to ash which I swept up the next day.

The Stone can be used to channel spirits, some of the most powerful spirits have come into my home. They can never believe I have the stone, they look upon me with scornful eyes
Some scoff or shoot a fireball out there nose in distaste
But they cannot harm me, for the stone protects me.
I have become the Stone's protector, it lets no one near it but me

The Stone comes from a wall of Pandamonium,
it has demonic powers but can be used for good,
if I told how it works I could be jeapordising the future of
mankind. So I wont, but I might tell of how its used in
channeling in the future

The Mark

All her life she was aware of the
Monstrosity. It crept in her shadows
And hid under her bed at nite
She could hear it tapping on her headboard
Scratching in the walls
Feel its icy disaproval
Whenever she put a Christian music cd in her stereo

Whenever something bad happened
If she was walking home from school and happen to see an
Accident. She became aware of this Monstrosity
Awaking in her book bag, becoming warm and alive
Against her body, she could never remove it
Everywhere she went this Monstrosity
Went also. As she grew older, started to go to Catholic School
This Monstrosity began to hide deeper in her,
In hopes that the Nuns wouldn’t find out about it,
And do an exorcism

When she walked into cathedral
Light bulbs burst out above her
Fire erupt in a fointan of holy waters
The Nuns scold her, trouble always follow her
They say. But afraid she was to mention the
Monstrosity. In fear of what they do to her
They could scald her for being a witch
Even though she didn’t at the time know
She was one.

Time goes on she has trouble in school,
Has to be removed from school. The building
Has burned down because she kept going there
All the electrical wires burned out when she passed
The walls full of wires
So they shorted out finally and it burned down
But still no one knew of this
Monstrosity. Except for her

She became goth in high school, wore black cloths listened
To goth music and read book of spells and carry a widji board.
Everyone in the school knew she was a witch, she had a tato on her
Arm that said Im a Witch. She had no more troubles because she
Was now become the Monstrosity itself. She dated a goth
Who drove a herse and they would go make outt
Finally she got pregnant
And nine months pregnant goes to the doctor
She goes to deliver “we’ll do a c-section” the doctor advised
It took them longer then usual to cut her open
When the baby finally came the doctor screamed
She took it she screamed also
It had a mark on its forehead
And its eyes were like a demon
She felt down on her sides all over her body even her hair
For the first time the
Monstrosity was gone.

Purple Wings

The angel walked among the ranks of the lower
Angels. Who were bowled over like bettles
Prostrate in holy revarance and fear
Outstretching her hand a butterfly
Sprung to life
Radiant with purple wings.
It flys up above
Melts in the light that comes from
The throunroom of God, that tower above
The starrey firmament


Higher flys the little thing
Up above on angel’s wings
Fluttering things
Angel’s wings.
The light grows more intense
The higher it climbs
It feels its purple wings
Turning to the color of light
Bursting bright
High flight
Below the feet of God it touches
He feels its flutter
Before it bursts into flames
Scattering the dust of butterfly wings
Sprinking, twinkling in the glow
Falling down like glowing snow


The angels feel the brush of snow
Upon their bowed closed wings
Chance to look though none
Fearing the Archangel who walks among
Them. Curious this occurrence
As none had seen before
In the astral plains of Chaos
A kind of holy snow
Or rain or sleet or hail
A buzzing a disturbance of the air
Fills the sky


The angel unfold his wings
Fly up above the rest
And call them to rise
Eyes darting about at the unimaginable
Vision. The sky filled with innumerable creatures
Of purple wings
Thick as a locust storm to pass thru Egypt
They swarm in the air
There beauty captivating to the eye
but making it hard for the angels to breath, hear, or see
"This is the kingdoms of men" says the Arch Angel, who is Gabriel
"Numerous as these butterflys,
With purple wings of royalty
Riches wealth
They fly up but are burnt
because they get to close to God"
The angels bow to there master
He snaps his fingers the butterflys disappear
"Take not for granted the lesson of the purple wings,
but learn from them" he says, calling the army to the air
"We go now to battle Satan, for the fate of man"
Radiant there wings as they take to the air
Darting like a swarm of locust downward
At the speed of light
Go to fight the force of darkness, night

Artifact

The woman shows up at the pastor’s
Office at noon
She knock he answer “hello, how do you do”
She ask can I please be let in
“Ok, ma’am please come in”

“I have troubles I am worried”
She starts, dabbing her eye with a hankerchif
“I have demonic troubles”
The pastor look at her with a concern face
He fold his hands lean forward on the desk
“What can I do for you, ma’am how can I help?”

She tells him a story which sends shock up and down his body
There are spirits in her home, at night they slam doors in her home
And through the refrigerater across the kitchen
She saw a demon take her beloved Bible
Given by her grandma
And through it in the waste basket

She is a nurse, she goes to help people in the day
Lately she saw her patients be torment
By the same spirit
She convinced it is a demon
After her patient 83 yrs old dies
After complaining of seeing a spriit
In a convolescant home

She tells pastor how sad she is
Crying night and day she worries of this spirit
It speak to her by her bedside
Saying she will be dead
As soon as spirit has chance to take her

Pastor concerned with his eyebrow sunk low
He fold his hand and look at her seriously
“take me to your home I am concerned there is a spirit”
He says, taking her hand in his
They plan a time when he can go to her home

The day arrives she hear a knock on her door
She opens it “Oh Pastor its you”
Pastor comes in he bows he take a Bible out of his coat
“We begin with a prayer”
He prays asks god help them find the spirit,
So they can exorsise the spirit
She lead him around her home pastor frowning picking up books
Trinkets everything she has he look at it with a frown
They go in her bedroom he stops startld he looks “what is this”
There by the bedside a arrowhead like from an Indian he looks at it
“it’s a artifact a patient gave to me” she says
“A Indian artifact it was a arrowhead use in a special ritual”
The pastors face tigthen he look at her with firey eyes
“Who gave you this artifact” he say with firey eyes
“It was a woman a Indian woman she gave it to me as a gift”
He pick it up he feel fire burning his fingers
“This is the artifact thats causing you demonic possesion” he says

The woman shreaks
She has held it in her hands to go to sleep
Thinking it give her special powers
“Your kidding” she says
Its all my fault
It’s the artifact causing me all this

The pastor takes the artifact in his hands
He prays over it, for a long while he hold it and pray
“Do you dream of this” he says
“yes” she answer
The pastor goes back to pray
Then all of sudden
He starts to scawl “YAAAAAAGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!”
And turn around and round in circles
“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!”
The woman start to be afraid

Finally the pastor stops
He look at the woman firmly
“You shouldn’t have allowed this artifact in your home”
Then he turns, walks to the door
The woman follows
“Woman” he says “I go to rid of this you should be grateful”

As he approaches the door she sees Satan come off his body
“You got away this time, but I will still get you”
He says, turning to a plume of fire
“Oh my god” she gasp, the preacher turns says “What?”
“You didn’t see, a demon came” she says

“Please take it away” she says
I see it in my dreams
A field open up with armies upon it
Pastor gulps, he is scared “This is a calling card for demons” he says
“I will go to burn this,brake it bury it” he says
“OK please go” says the woman
She watch the pastor go to his truck
He take a hammer out of it, smash the artifact to peaces
Then he go and drive away, the woman knows not where
But she is sure he will do away with it