image - Natalia Drepina Badb I lay across your gleaming Scythe And scream in silence I am unmade In the shivering tomb of my soul The cocoon splits Marked for the tearing of its tethering The pungent rot slops onto the floor Ripe for burning Frailty hangs around my neck like a noose Crushing my trachea before I can utter words of aimless self defeat The phantom stalks these halls Blade sparking against stone slab circles In places forgotten by man And spoken of

"I know my Worth. I've paid dearly for every ounce of it." - Alfa Black soot stained feathers brush across my cheekbones, dappling ink across my flesh. Experience is worn, painted on, from the dusty remnants of burning the defunct remnants of a former life, a constant reminder when the sting of memory fades and the tears are all spent. The Goddess Badb will always bring me back to myself, time and again, even when I find myself ashamed in the recalling. Her crow-like shrill

Original Image - xthenullchamberx.tumblr.com "There is blood beneath your fingertips Stained once more with dirt The nectar that fills your veins Reminds you what is 'worth' The howling tale upon the wind The Crow cries out for war..." - Joey Morris Morriganic War Cry​ Timeless, ageless, cawing from the outer reaches of the spiritual ecosystem; the prophetess, the magician, the omen bearer of all that could ever come to pass; the Crow. Placing the black charred feathers

Image- wallpaperwide Puncture marks punctuate Torn from bullet wounding points A cage of overgrown weeds Deep breaths filling lungs with ache The moments between chaotic order dissemble Ties of red chord twisting Shadow calling in the tears The point of entry shifted and shifted again A wall of broken points Silent wailing phantom echoes Lesson after lesson of drowning The absence of fire dancer Lends to abscessed feet Only passion burns away the mold The crackl

Image source Memories in dirt trod places An ache of something soul wired Screeching across field and foe The rankling of oppressive chains Ripped and charred Once a story learned by rote No longer spoken but on the wind Only the memories we carry Claws in the darkness, teeth biting, Burn it all to ash and starch the bones Sing to them, sing for them, bleed into them, All those forgotten souls, honourable, wise, less so Death is not a quiet whisper A story is not

“…I hear her scream Guttering The pitch black chord of night I am her and She is me…” – Joey Morris Woad Warrior Never in human history has the screaming been so silent. The sanitization of modern society impresses on the individual the need for silence to such a degree that the verbal act of screaming is relegated to films concerning horror. The Horror genre is generally considered to be a psychological pressure valve for social and cultural concerns within the human p

Image source – Lost in the Darkness by Natalia Drepina How beautiful is the Darkness, where our shadows are simply part of us without separation, and we breathe in the essence of the Universe in void; in potential, in endless possibility… As Alban Hefin (Midsummer) approaches I become more acutely aware of the Darkness; as the brightness takes over, the blinding light scorching through the curtains disturbing sleep, and as a result my heart yearns to be cocooned once again in

Image source Goddess Badb; Shadow of Silver Birch: Or an odd journey to the Underworld with Foxes and Moths The Shadow within the Celtic path, and within the trees whom I revere as guardians, is a realm of sometimes seemingly unfathomable depths, and in order to traverse this path with company, one has to have explored the caverns appropriately and with care. There is no substitute for experience, no short cut through shadow work, and if one is to properly hold discourse arou

Image -nataliadrepina.deviantart.com There is blood beneath your fingertips Stained once more with dirt The nectar that fills your veins Reminds you what is worth The howling tale upon the wind The Crow cries out for war Tattered wings and battered things A cavern all aglow Shadows deepen calling out Reminds you what’s at stake Crashing waves against the rock Don’t break Don’t break Don’t break – Joanne Morris 2017 All my own work and design all rights reserved #

Image – Nemesis by Hollllow And when Badb came for me I knew it was not yet my time But I had screamed for death And She had heard me And with an otherworldy scythe Cleaved me in two And demanded I remember who I was “Sew it up,” She told me “And with every inch of that pain Scream your utmost…” Badb had given me a voice And I remembered how much I was alive Even when it tore me to pieces. J.Morris 2015 #goddessbadb #badb #darkgoddess #goddess #po #poet #poetry #p

Art by by katrina sesum My spiritual path is dirty It’s hands down in the mud Dancing til you’re breaking Aching in the blood Touch the Earths divinity Howl my little wolf, howl For you should never separate Sensuality and soul Badb’s lips are bloody She sings of little deaths So scream out in your ecstacy Life in every breath J.Morris 2015 All my own work all rights reserved #goddessbadb #badb #po #poet #poetry #poem #spells #spirit #spirituality #spiritual

Original Art –Boneyard. Photo by alexstoddard on Flickr The illumination of the relationship between Witchcraft and bones seems inevitable in the wake of this year of Death. As we enter the final months of 2016 and Winter begins to take a hold, thoughts turn to the Solstice, banishing the difficulties of months gone by, and celebrating the painful lessons that have been dished out like bitter candy over and over again. The motifs of bones, skulls, and the archetypal Witch thr

Original art by Daniel Vazquez Badb I see you stalking through my dreams With Birch wizened teeth And howling Chords I see the twisted visage Wracked with pain and expectation I feel my bones crack and snap A bleeding heart “Chaos is my gift,” she croaks I know that the cocoon is splitting Tearing me apart Blood in my lungs with every breath Bruised knees crawl Dirt soaked and shivering Truth unyielding Breaking Into something new and old I have never lied do

Original art – Sorceress. The Goblin Ball: Ice Kingdom – Sat 22 June 2013. Melbourne, Australia Invoking Badb, Crone aspect of Morrigan. “I am the War Crow I am the Death Crow I am Badb. And you will fall before me.” -Joey Morris 2015 #badb #death #deathcrow #crow #raven #wolf #witch #witchcraft #goddess #themorrigan #morrigan #morrigu

Crow Speak, the Screaming Badb and the Starry Oracle Posted on October 27, 2016 by admin ★★★Oracle for Starlets★★★ ★Card by Inner Hue “Connected and Free” the Alchemist Oracle★ ★★★ Communication ★★★ “You are being called to communicate your truth and vision, actively initiating conversations, meetings, agreements or new connections. Be confident that your voice will be heard with desired results flowing to you. Should you need to communicate with sensitivity around an issue r