Halloween - a poem by helene Smithee

purple pictures

Let us away from mauve oneness and dabble in the apple blobbing recklesness that is the velveteen black and gothik purple of the anual festival of zombys and death that is halloween. 

Soon, it will be the whitching hour and we will be consorting with satan but only for a bit of fun. Kids will be learning knife skills hollowing out pumkins and suchalike. back in my day we only had turnups and it was a right effort to cut little faeces in them and sometimes we'd cut ourselves but it was fine because we didnt have comedy blood back then so it was all good for the effect. 

Some Christian people say 'NO HALOWEEN IS THE OCCULT YOU MUST NOT DO IT WEEJEE BOARDS ARE DANGEROUS' but i think all things in moderation its only a bit of fun.n Also, being an indigo child of the univers i know that we dont become ghouls when we die we go back into the celestial light -its the the water cycle but with light and our skellingtons just feed worms but we are not they - they are resudue of the physical world, not who we really are. 

So Remember - if you have been plagued by ugly teeth in this life, you will not be so when you return to the godhead. 

here is a fun poem about Halloween. 

Halloween

The melancholy pale maiden,

bloodless face of moon, translucent 
like a haunted ghost 

is she mestruating; 

does she even exist?

She cries sad, 

silver, glittery tears

glimpsing down onto the spooky, dark wood

atmospheric, swirling 

mist like gossamer 

envelopes the forrest 

like a hypnotic dancer

casting her spell 

on mesmerized menfolk

catches in drops 

in the webs of the deadly 

black widow bitterly waiting 

her lover and prey

a twig snaps!

and vampiric bats terrify, 

flitting their tanglous wings 


flapping fear into your silken, fair hair

a fox, a red gash, dashes out 

hurtling after wide eyed rabbit 

disturbed by the madness 

of mixamotosis 

bounces in the glint 

of his bulging dead eyes

a clock chimes: 

bong! bong! bong! bong! bong!Bong!

Bong! Bong! bong! bong! Bong! bong!

The midnight hour,

a time for witching, watching

the cauldron pots of spells cast

and disinterred corpses that dance

there dance macabre stealing souls

with their hard boiled egg zombie eyes

of those who have only half died

these evil doers will knock on your door

steel you away

and eat out your heart

this is no trick or treat; no time to be weak

keep you cricifix near to stave off your fear

and pray for the asylum of sunlight to come soon.

angel pictures

while in the distance you hear 
the blood curdling howl 

of the she wolf,
 as she is mated with the werewolf possessed and 

watched by the goat head

of the lord of all eveil.

Jesus, please help us.

i love grandma pictures

The end.

  Copyright helene Smithee 2012

i have added the audio in the future 2019 see it down there.

She Whale

I have been inspired by a fabulous video that i have witnessed that captures some intimate swimming monets of some beautiful humpback whales. 

I will post the video at the bottom of the page for you to enjoy and hopefully it will inspire you to write a poem about whales or some other sea creature of your choice, like the doklpins that are the angles of the sea. Though i think that whales must have some hevenly roll under there too, they are so peaceful and big like God's blue sky. Most of the wordls is under water, not just the mistical city of Atlantis that some of our forebaears came from (we know who we are as we have a special job to do on the earth) and it is no mistake that some of the universes most special creatures live under the sea. Octopuses even can open jars. This is surely proof that there is a great plan that we dont yet understand (well some of us do but its a secret until the time) octopuses have been on the earth for much longer than jars yet they know how to open jars. Think about it. I have gone off the point but my imagination just sparks off like a dominoe toppling record attempt with lighter fuel dribbled on each domino when i think of such wondrouesness of the netural world. And so it is with this in mind that i share this new poem. hot off the press. 

She Whale

Magnificent, majestic, giants of the deep

Some of you look gnarled; gherkins with eyes

bobbing and jostling through greeny fluid

innocent and pure as newborns in utero

Big barnacled elephants; dinosaurs of the sea

Yet you glide, o’er the tides

serene submarines of flesh and blubber

fat synchronised swimming ballet dancers,

slowly rotating like joyful lava lamp blobs

underwater fantasia hippos in the nude

but not rude,

it is as it should be, for thee.

Once your bones were confined in corsets and bras

That they too would tame the blubbery ebb

Of female forms in Victorian times

when women were Evil Eves

Hidden, covered and confined by man’s hatred

of his lustful undercurrents

his uncontrollable urges and surges

blamed on the splendour of the feminine flow.

Beautiful She Whale now we’re unkindly compared

unto you if we deign to be too fat, too languid,

too wide of breech, too much...

in a man’s world that beaches our dreams.

And so to the sea,

where they harpooned you to your bloody grave

though thine spirit left the earth, our planet,

from free sea swimming

unto the heavens; now you are stars,

not bras

your huge corpses were commodity, like women today.

your being: melted and sliced, sold every which way

made into soap that could never unstink

the vile ways of men

and into phallic like candles – man made light

From the body of one that swam,

naked under the watch of our milky true moon

at one with the clocks and seasons of schools of whales

and the secret sea

of she.

Here is the video that inspired. me

Stop the Fighting by E-Fluent

WWe are living in a troubled world. It is all antsy and iratible like the 

pea under the princesses mattress or the grit of sand in the oyster and 

lo, out of this mailstorm of hurt and tyranny, you E-Fluent, my muse 

and protege has written this great poem

. 

He is wise beyond his ears that one. It also has a rousing chorus so I

hope that one day we will see croweds of football fans chanting it on 

the terraces as they exchange pies and smiles and release doves and 

helium ballons (but not those chinese lanterns becasue they kill owls 

and frighten sheep) and we can be one in this world. We just need 

hope and the optimism of youth like young E-Fluent has here. This is
 a 
poem of great hope. I am very proud as I have taught him well. 
i am at 

last a sage. I dont know whats happened here its a right jumble but

 maybe that is meant to be a meteor for the chaos of war. 
 

Stop the fighting 

Stop the fighting stop the war

Ask yourselves what are we fighting for

Put your guns down live in peace

Stop the fighting make it cease

Stop the fighting for every kid
Hate and hunger - lets get rid

Stop the fighting, put down your blades

 Stop the theiving and the ram raids

Help you neighbours lets be kind

Help deaf people and help the blind

Stop the fighting what is it for

Make it happen don't close your door

Use a pen and not a sword

Turn a cheek like our good lord

Stop the fighting lets see it gone

Can't solve problems with a loaded gun

Stop the fighting stop the pain

Make sunshine not the bullets rain

Stop the fighting we'll be as one

Each a good daugther or a son

Come together stop the fight

Come on lets make this world right

Let's fix the world that we have broke

And hold hands while we share a coke

a cola (not the drug).

  Stop the fighting and all the crying

Too many people are hurt and dying

Stope the fighting love one another

Sister father Mum and brother

Grandads nanas aunties and neices

Stop us blowing the world to pieces

Cousins stepchildren and nephews

Don't let them light the dynamite fuse

Stop the fighting lets write a story

About a time of hope and glory

When everyone said "Yeah, count me in!"

If we pull together we can win

Stop the fighting stop all hurt

Come on everyone - lets make this work!

Peace to everyone!

Copyright E-Fluent 2009

Mother earth spins out and a new yaer is born.

Update: I am writting this from the future but i wont spoil ut and tell you what hapened. Anyway if you'are in the future too and are reading this on a diferent new year you will have to change the numbers yourself and change the numbers using the imagination eg. where i have written '2011' use you imagination to insert whatever year you are experieneceing - hope this help. HS.

Another year over 
and what have you done/?well i have have done lots of goodthings to make the universe a better place for one and all in my roll as mauve therapy pratitioner and light worker. I have a pome for you oh dear reader and though it is a bit premature like an overexited man i cant help myself but post it all over my bog for ur enjyment oh dear reader

frohes neues jahr pictures
It is nearly almost 2012 and i will be away at a retrot over the new year time period as i am working towards my Mauve oneness masters badge and i am also hoping to qualify as a hollywood nails person (because i have bills to pay) and i have also come up with the exellent idea of doing pagan woodland oneness vajazzling using found items from the woods and the recycling . I have been utilsing milk bottle tops, ring pulls, dried pinecones berries in my new art form aswell as making a merkin with a dead squirrel and some combed out dog hair from my sister's lurcher, Muffin. I think this new venture will be VERY succesful and on trend for 2012 when people are being austeer and thrifty. 
I am patenting the idea so that Krusty Allslopp doesnt steel it for her cookery and sowing show.

This isnt quite how i invision it - this is just a muck up that i did on photobucket fanny (ha ha - geddit).

And so anyway of dear reader here is my new years gift to you one and all. it is a poem called

Mother earth spins out and a new yaer is born.

Another round dozen is layed before us

though eggs are ovals, of the ovary,

these are months, spun out like pots on a wheel

round and round like

like the cycle of the womb and moon

smooth promised days

are unhatched fertilised eggs,

filled with hope,

but hopefully not with salamanda

or botchedulism,

there gleaming lives in waiting, awaiting,

pausing pregnant in the warm nest of hope,

(woven with love and skill

like a dream catcher having a lie down in a barn,)

the anticipatience of new years day,

box fresh

Made viable by cockery and womanly wet,

Awaiting mother earth's warmth to pass the days,

With old father time, turning lifes magnificent waterwheel,

Sweating and huffing and puffing

Rushing and gushing his spurt seed of man

From his metamorphical man eggs

It is so,

it is oh so....

pignant, it is poemtry,

IT IS LIFE OH CHILDREN!

And now 2011 is spent like a flaccid member

Lighting itself a congratulatory cigar

Before it is devoured, black window like, 
by the spider clock hands of passing time.

and so we wait for 2012 to find its feet

to rise: an egg yolk sun,

benighted in the new years honours list

by the queen this new dawn,

nurturing us with protein rich mucous

As we skip like wooded pagans

toward lighter longer days

and the equinox of spring.

We have survived the dark days,

though at first we were afraid,

we were petrified,

for we are not stone but blood and  flesh,

box fresh, like new underpants

PLease new year, cradel us

with your supportive lycra sling

like man eggs kept young and beyounce

[keep goingplease theres a bit more]

so that we can sing

and bring in

the new year

2012

and the Mayan apocalpse*
[upadte from the future: insert The Rapture' for Mayan apocalpse because it sadly didnt happen but theres still plenty of good reasons to be a prepper.]

The end.

Copyright helene Smithee

1st January 2011

Wise words ofwinter wisdom #1 by Helene Smithee

Christmas for all (reducks) by Helene Smithee

Well, im sorry to my woefull fans and guru worshippers that i have been so lackadasisical with the popular blogging. I hope you have not been limp ,depressed waifs like wilting lettuce in the absess of my heartfelt, life afframing wisdom but I have not been here to Cher my great, wondrous, awe invecting words and for that oh children ones I am humanel;y sorry.
 

 For  i have been on a mauve oneness retreat, touching myself with the knowledge of the angles of the lavendar Goddess temple in Totness (I didnt see the monster though) venturing into the indogo zone of self examination and rebirth and like the Hamish I have not been using technollogy, buttons or hairdressers ( though I didnt use them anyway because they are boring failed travel agenst - ";where are you going on holiday they say'" - " it is non of there busyness where I go on my urine drinking detox." I reply angrgily but still serene in the universe.) for mine aims are pure and i don't want to get bran cancer from electricity and bad negative energie vibes and hatspeech that i have encunterd on the social networking forhems.

But lo! What is that light from yonder star? It is a flicker of inspiration,,,a divine celesteal glowing of joyous winter soklstice -  hope in the darkness for soon we embark on our return ticket into the light, like blinking fleas emerging from the weave of a matted dog and on unto springh. FANFARE: !!

 

Here is a poem that I posted on my facebook fanzine page last Christmas, and before that on myspace, but it is still relephant now because Chrstmas is always the same every year.

A Christmas For All 

The mass of Christ, 

the man child; God's sun

innocent baby, placed in a manger 

in swaddling in Bethlehem.

here the winter soltice; the shortest day

of our European winter

we bring in the green leaves

of mother earth our goddess

now cowed by the coldness of winter

and the dessert of ice

she has lost all but the hardiest 

of her evergreen tresses

but lo, a light, any light

a star, afar, 

or a fireplace in a welcoming hearth

brings hope to our cold, lonely travellers

Come in ye, whether ye be Kings or shepherds

the Christ child or a Big issue seller,

It is Christmas, there's no time to be afraid

Welcome in the warmth of love

into thine hearts, your hearths

there is room in our inn for you

thou will not be left without; we can share

and so like the inn keepers of old

who ushered in the virgin

and the carpeneter

into that cave of cows and beasts of burden

where the message of the angel Gabriel came true,

not the fantasy of an adulterous whore

trying any means to avoid being stoned,

no, that promise was met

and into the world we welcomed Christs joy,

Gold, Frankinscience and myrrh were given,

and we give gifts to each other,

for we know not what we do,

share and share alike, a light tells us it is so,

happiness this Christmas 

and the brightness filling of the world,

that is the gift, the gift of Christmas

we feast and rejoice - we are full of it

Eskimos hold hands with red Indians

and play ring- o-ring -roses

on Christmas cards and so it shall be,

we feed the world; do they know it's Christmas?

those poor waifs who do not know how to read

or play in festive snow,

twinkling in the Dickensian moonlight, 

or even how to operate a PS3?

For this is Christamas, 

war is over and what have you done?

Hark the bells and the pipes of peace,

English and germans play football together,

par ap a pap pum for the boy child,

We are all walking in the air,

but some of us are looking at the stars,

a star, in the east. 

Happy Christmas everyone.

and love to you all.

Amen.

Copyright  Helene Smithee 2009

Here is a picture of some cup cakes I have orded for my party. They look yumyy don't they?!
 I lik lots of cream i am glad the cup cake cooker hasnt been mingy with the cream. my mouth is sal;ivation just looking at them. Mmmmmmmmmm.

Happy Holedays everyone. Hugs.xxxx