Tag Archive: Vampire


Suspended in the illusion of Time.

Future and past tightly woven as one into the tapestry of destiny.

Ancient tales from the scroll of life etched onto reality,

Manifesting into dreams and desires that were once only that.

Time lines changed by those who weave the web.

But tell me, was it woven from the inner realms of my subconscious?

Or do the starlight worlds pull silken threads tight around my soul?

Tightening still as known worlds fade to grey, disappearing before heart and eyes wide open.

The Roaring Lion goes unheard as amber sunlight reveals the Serpent Path

And the Howling Wolf casts shadows of silver and blood upon my life.

I reach and grasp the thread, allowing the tide of destiny to flow within my heart.

The night sky becomes an open book for this eager clay born infant.

The words have always been written, yet read by few.

Only now can I even begin to read between the lines.

Yet who are we?

Us who hide inside this human form and dare to sip the Cup of Life, innocently unaware that it is we who are the Key?

That which is sought.

When Time unfolds, our future surely was always written by the Star of Insight and our paths already sacrificially trod by Messengers of the past.

Past and future only now become one and the unseen becomes the seen to those of The Way.


 A Warrior of the Serpent Ways; always questing upon the sphere of time.

Sharing and teaching to those who are open to receive.

Inanna -clay tablet




Prophesy of the Horn

Into darkness I will fade Prophesy of the Horn
Into a night that man has made
but through that gloom shall gleam the sun
When I am lost; and again am won.

Release! Release! I call to thee
In new lands across the sea
Let another, on narrow pathways, come to me.
Furthest and Highest, yet not beyond reach.
Choose thou well a path that will teach:
How the sunken is raised and emptiness is filled
And a wandering heart can finally be stilled.

Seek the Great Stone! Mark it well, with a sign
And those who see it shall know it is mine
And seeing shall ponder and certainly know
As the Ancients have writ “As above, so Below

And I shall guard the source of Greatness
Waiting by a teardrop
From neither joy nor sorrow born
In silver bound, Beneath the ground,
I am the Spiral Horn.

( a very old, stunningly beautiful and emotional piece of writing that contains many deep truths)

Come my love…..

Come my love and meet me upon the lip of midnight.
Come my love and dance upon the edge of velvet night
And if you dare to dance my dance
I’ll take you into darkness true.
I promise I will not sup much
Or steal from you that precious thing of which you value so.
Come my love, come meet me when all mortal time runs out
And when the tides are running high
Come take my hand,
Come dance my dance,
Come waltz with me upon the land of precious time.
I’ll not sup much
I promise you.
I’ll let you dance your dance of dance while standing on the edge
And if you come to me with love,
I’ll maybe sup just one sup
As you whirl and spin upon the night times’ edge.
Come to me my love of love.
Come embrace my spell so pure.
We’ll dance till midnight claims your soul in a land I know so well.
Come close my love and kiss me sweet and then I’ll sup,
Just one sup;
A sup of life so true.

Blood Red Rose

Blood Red Rose

The Devil and I…..

Betwixt the strokes of the clanging bell

Midnight hangs like a waiting shroud.

There’s a place so dark no shadows fall;

Tis a void amidst the changing years

So go not there for you’ll not return.

Behind the chimes of the old and the new,

Is an alleyway ancient between the realms

And in this place you must not wait

Lest you be seen by those who observe.

Only the brave will want to go.

Only the courageous will want to know.

For this is the land at the end of time;

The forgotten land where the Devil rides out.

If you hear him, you must close your eyes.

If you see his chariot above the skies

You must wish three wishes so he’ll then pass by.

Do not linger and do not look

For if you do, your soul he will pluck.

At the stroke of midnight

Just walk away,

Do not look back

And do not stay.

How do I know this?

How could this be?

Well of course

The Devil and I keep good company…..

The Devil Rides Out...

The Devil Rides Out…

She always thought……

She always thought that she could swim underwater

She always thought that she was strong enough to swim against the tide

She always thought that she would forever exist outside of human dreams

But far too late she realised she was drowning…

She always thought her wings were forged of mighty steel

She always thought she had the ability to fly right into the sun

She always thought she knew exactly how to ride the winds

But she rode the winds straight into the fire…

She never thought that she would actually scorch her beautiful wings

She never thought she would drown alone in the dark night stream

She never thought that her world really was all an illusion

And that the horizon and the dream would always be just that tiny bit out of reach

What then, if she allowed herself to drown?

What then, if she allowed her beautiful steel wings to burn up and melt?

And then what would she be; just who would she be?

Alone and lost upon the shores of time the beautiful little fairy took her last earthly breath…


In Circle Dark…..

On this night of thinning veil ‘neath death’s dark cloak, a shadow falls.
As spirits call their eerie cry we meet…

Hands wrenched tight in circle cast by cauldron burning bright.
In wind so chill, by flight of bat, we wait…

On cold, damp earth by elder tree, born of blood and bone.
A sudden chill, an icy breeze, with pounding hearts we call…

As midnight rises through our veins and sacred herbs we burn.
Our darkest fears are manifest; the Shadow spirals in…

Yet on this eve of thinning veil the darkness we embrace.
A womblike shroud encapsulates, we hold our breath; we wait….

“we hold our breath…we wait..”

From an ancient place somewhere far off, to space deep within, I have always felt the pull of the Dark Mirror tugging me through into unknown mythical realms or was it infact the hidden truths speaking to my subconscious. The pull was at time as tangible as a magnetic force drawing me ever closer to where I wanted to be. Certain thoughts and perceptions known since childhood or even before, have always lingered within the dormant corners of my mind. Way before the current spate of vampire tellings becoming fashionable and long before the influences of the current modern-day media obsession, my heart always warmed, always beat fast to those deeply exquisite tales and the feelings they evoked within me. Over the years new experiences opened up to me and I enjoyed the exploration of my ‘inner dark side’. Whether it was in fact reality or not, made it none the less enjoyable, none the less compelling and real to me.

I thus began to discover in my subsequent explorations of myself, the essence of whom I truly was; my true lineage. Always learning, always exploring, always searching… Not for me as a child, the usual childhood reading; no schoolgirl novels or girly sugary tales. Right from the very start my choice of reading material was always of the dark kind and my head was usually to be found deep inside the darkest and most horrible of tales I could lay my little expectant hands upon; Edgar Alan Poe certainly being one of my faves. In my teen years my love and fascination of the shadow and indeed the magical side of life grew into the forbidden and very compelling sexuality that surrounds the many vampire tales, especially from the movies. I wanted to be drawn into a world other than that which I knew; I craved the hidden knowledge of the shadow realms where often only a fine line hangs like a veil between life and death and I was truly always on the side of the often mis-understood vampire. It always made me very angry when at the end of all the tales and movies, the only option ever for the vampire was death and within my own being I could never consolidate or accept this, for to me it was always the vampire who was in the right, who always held the truths and never ever the other way round. I always left the cinema feeing terribly short-changed and very sad. But was I even then trying to access the deeper side to myself or trying to discover another side to reality that no-one could enlighten me to? Even way back then, especially in the case of the movies, death for the one who treads the path not of the norm was the only way out and therefore with death, the truths also died and a false rightous truth survived. Was this struggle a metaphor for not allowing access to or for hiding the truths of the universe and beyond, and I even then was constantly pulling apart the veil of illusion.

Yet I always found myself  in a place of learning, of understanding and of knowledge seeking; a place I chose to be in and one which I truly embraced. To want it and to be it was always such a deep yearning within me and of course I wondered just where it all came from or infact where it would end, if ever? Oh how I would have loved to be able to exist in such a reality and to be truly free, to find the real me and of course as it is so often said, are not the Vampire tales a kind of ‘coming of age’ rite anyway and perfectly placed within the mind of many a dreamy teenage girl at the onset of puberty? If that was the case then so be it, and a certain teenage girl would find herself embracing this reality time and time again.

Everything about the vampire tellings, within my own mind, was and is total perfection and I was captivated and bound by the powerful images portrayed of immortality, dark sexuality and of course of being very different. But more importantly it bought to life for me what was inside of my own soul anyway; always feeling a deep sense of love and compassion towards the vampire; the one who was different. Even from the point of view of the writers and movie directors from those times of my teenage years, loving the act of “siring” as portrayed in their movies, raising another of the kindred. This embodied, whether intended or not, many exquisite dark taboos, often romanticising the compelling relationship of sexuality, death and rebirth; the age-old cycle of many religions.

Of course in later years my writings and poetry began to reflect this; it was all a big facet of me, or whom i am and I have within my own writings and poems used phrases such as ‘the kiss of the blood rose’ or the ‘dark embrace’. The vampire’s kiss has been perceived as a sensual ritualistic act, a deliberate act shown in films, novels and poetry as something powerfully mesmerizing; one creature with a deep ancient desire and one creature, either willing or unwilling becoming the age-old provider of life and sustenance. Yet as I progressed in researching the subject further and learning more, a new world of understandings opened up before me and within me and to this very day continues to take me on a very fascinating voyage of discovery and knowledge as the veil falls and age-old truths are revealed; like the parting of ancient velvet, scarlet drapes; musty and mysterious.

Walking back and forth through the realms of the mysterious night-kin holds untold fears for many and yet further still, untold pleasures for a few. What will one find there in that shadowy world where one’s senses are honed to perfection and further still once one discovers that which one finds there, is one’s actual reality forever changed or is it the perceptions of reality that are altered?  Once the taste of the ‘blood rose’ is figuratively upon ones lips can one ever let go of it, ever go back or has destiny changed for all time? How possible is it to walk a fine line between the known and the hidden, for when the hidden becomes the known every thing else will of course evolve too and thus become a way of life, become the norm. It is at this very point of realisation, of the unknowing becoming the norm and the norm becoming some distant past that used to be, that one realises one has accessed the hidden and that one is no longer the ‘someone’ that one used to be. It is an opening up, a letting go of everyday awareness, a true test of faith, a standing on the edge of the world and falling into the multiverse, into that which has always been.

Life, sex, death are all very natural and are all a part of the unending cycle of nature Herself; a story played out across time and tide many times over. Often some of the unusual experiences of life as seen from the context of the wider human world, are from a perspective of folks involved being a little mad or  brave; people who push the boundaries. Yet do we not all wish to push the boundaries or is it only just the few? However one views it, maybe being different is a better description of these individual boundary pushers; different from the rest of human society and with a desire of wanting ‘something else’. To journey through to the deeper realms of truth one actually needs to be very sane indeed and in total control of ones life, ones mind and ones actions and to know exactly what one is doing and why. Good teachers and guides have always been here, always amongst us and always to be found, if one has the passion to follow one’s own desires. Part of a good and essential magical training usually taking many years of hard practice to perfect, yet will teach one how to allow oneself to open up to the universe, to let go of the ego. To also have control of the many aspects of the self and to have a heightened and knowledged sense of awareness and confidence when venturing in realms not of the mundane.

Rebirth, transformation and new life can come in many different guises; many spiritual paths perform rites of rebirth, often as initiatory ceremonies and then also on various stages of a path. These rites can be very deep and profound often involving a sacrifice or the death of ones self, the death of the ego; for the ego has no place at all in magical realms.

The telling of Innana’s descent into the underworld captures this portrayal of the death and rebirth process beautifully. It tells of the goddesses’ willing descent into the underworld and of her giving up all her worldly goods, of her being stripped bare, down to her very bones and almost left for dead, putrid, dying and alone. In the process of almost dying, of going through great and utter pain and of a giving up of all that was dear to her Inanna against all the odds survived the ordeal, experiencing her own death and rebirth and She, the goddess rebuilt herself. Rebirth, especially when on a magical path can be a long and challenging process and many ‘mini deaths’ occur as the ego is let go of in order to achieve transformation. Yet isn’t this exactly what the vampire stories are telling us, always of a giving up, often involving sacrifice leading to a complete letting go and then ultimate transformation and transcendence? Surely this captures the mythology of the vampire beautifully?

We all appreciate that the practices of the ancient peoples of these earthly lands, from many different cultural and religious backgrounds, often adhered to very different moral and ethical codes, far removed from anything practised today. Blood letting and blood offerings, sacrifice, sex and magic were often, it has been said, practiced in sacred rites overseen by the ancient priests in order to draw upon the deep forces of the universe on behalf of and for the gods; often for good, yet often not so good. The reasoning and morality were far removed from these present day times and thus who are we to judge, for judge we cannot. The various ritual uses of blood has been employed over many ages and by many cultures and was not deemed wrong; indeed was it was often essential for magic to work. It has been suggested that priests and priestesses, kings and queens too of ancient civilizations, were often carefully trained or chosen for very specific roles which were outside of the morality and understandings of our modern-day culture and religion. However it was all for a sacred, magical or religious purpose and so was not in any way wrong to the ancient peoples. Often deities were offered the precious gifts of a life force or sexual performance as part of a divine ritual with intent and purpose acceptable for the times. Of course it is more than acceptable these days, and always has been, to offer a few drops of one’s own sacred blood to the deities as part of personal sacred practices within prayer or ritual.

To me it has always seemed that these ancient peoples had a heightened sense of awareness, an increased ability to know of their place in the grand scheme of things; of their own mortality in fact and of the meaning of life and death so thus embraced what it truly meant to be alive. They never took anything for granted and accepted certain practices as a part of life; practices that many folks today would find distressing. Many accounts go way back in time and many truths are hidden within the tellings and tales of the Old Ways. The old rites have become distorted over so many years of retellings, yet maybe if one listens hard enough and long enough to the whispering of the winds and to the vibration of one’s inner being, then the truths will surely begin to reveal themselves.

At the end of the day there is no black or white,  no dark and light, no right or wrong, no  good or bad because it is all about balance; achieving the correct balance. Morals, ethics and perceptions change and evolve with each generation and within individuals too. Maybe my inner feelings do hark back to a much older time, maybe I feel the pull of the  ancient threads within me, hence why today I walk my path within the company the Old Ones; the threads do bind firmly to kin yet do not imprison. There have always been Keepers, Observers and Watchers well within our midst; those whom can tell of the secrets, will relentlessly guard the secrets, yet share with only a few; they will tirelessly protect the secrets of the living alignments and further still protect all that has gone before and all that will ever be. They will be known to only a few, yet have a quiet strength and resilience way beyond their earthly years and carry the secrets forwards in time, in the safe hands of their earthly kin.

So who knows, maybe from somewhere afar or somewhere near, on one’s own doorstep or even in another universe, even just up the road around an urban street corner in the bright shiny middle of the day, one of the Old Ones will be watching, waiting  just as they always did and just as they always will. Waiting for the sound of a passing heart-beat, and silently, undetected, unknown, will turn swifly on a sixpence, undetected hot in pursuit…

I would so love to think so….


“Do not search for us we will find you

Do not wait for us we are here already

Do not whisper your name we know it well

We have loved you forever, time will tell

We are your Guardian Angels”

<author unknown>


Autumn 2012 but many cycles in creation……

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’: Updated January 2018

My Satin Slippers

No matter that the cold rain slashes watery knives across my face

It hides the tears

And I care not about my once carefully coffered hair falling wet and dank upon my shoulders

Tis someone else’s perception of beauty now

Not mine

For how is beauty perceived in the realm of the dead?

And the musty scent of old roses that clung for centuries to my pale silken gown is washed silently away.

I can almost walk amongst the living unnoticed tonight

Maybe I shall tie back my tangled locks and go dancing on the waterfront.

The refection of the moonlight and streetlamps renders a poor imitation of daylight

But yet my satin slippers still glide across the slippery wet paving slabs of the quayside and I can almost, almost forget that I am not human.

A tune whirls inside my head as I dance round and round alone in the rain

Alone and wet and dancing in the rain

Whirling and giddy in the rain

Who would see me now?

Who would laugh?

Who would dare to mock my dance?

Swirling and swishing in my damp satin slippers

Alone on the quayside


My sad state of being compelling me into actions not of my own.

A thousand slashes of tiny rain droplets are suspended in the streetlamps glow as I twirl and I swish and I swirl.

My dance reaches its crescendo and I feel released once more

From the shadows a sound

From the shadows the sweet perfume of mortal life permeates my being

And alone on the dark damp quayside I swiftly deliver my fatal kiss.

My wet satin slippers soaked once more by rivulets of ruby.

Immortal One

Passion and desire resonates deep within                                                                                  

Soul truths surface and submerge in a cycle of becoming

Stirrings that quicken my being with fresh new light

I crave renewal as I walk upon the slippery lip of darkness

My immortal one I am under your spell

Your dark embrace quells all doubts and irrelevant thoughts within me

Take me as your own

Devour my fragile shell as I willingly offer you my body and soul

I sink into a darkness pungent with risen death

Yet alive with life

Memories bound in blood and bone and revelation

Deep yearning to connect to kindred

My dark dreams weave in and out of  forgotten forests

The land reveals  seven discarded tines bathed in moonlight

Majestic and solitary upon the cool damp earth

He was no match for you my Lady and offered all that he was and was yet to become

The time for mortals to sleep and dream is nigh

To return to that airless womb

The eternal palace of comfort and peace

I yield and sink further into my dreams

Embracing my immortal maker

She who waits with kisses so seductive

All reasoning lost as the sweet darkness surrounds me with stark comforting coldness

I surrender to the death and decay of my humanity

No compromise, no bargain

Further and further down I sink

Numb, cradled in the void,

I yield hungrily to your dark embrace, my lady

At one with all that ever was

Please leave me waiting not

The yearning of existence becomes me as I sup my mother’s blood

Yet it is She who takes the sacrifice whether offered willingly or not

My blood in the sacred chalice

Use it as you will, My Lady

Will my shadow be revealed to atone for all that was?

My Sweet Queen, she offers the sacred renewal

Sweet bloodstained kisses from my yearning lips I offer

A cycle fulfilled, a yearning soul reborn

May 2012

Roses in the ice…

I still picture the roses in the ice                                                                                                                                       Thinking i knew........

They haunt me still

And in my mind’s eye

I reach again for the soft petals

That shred with secret thorns

That face, that sad mysterious face.

A thousand years and as many tales told

Thinking I knew

But I will never ever know why he placed the roses in the ice…

May 2012

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