Discordian house blessing

I’ve been working on memorizing my lines for The Scottish Play. Thankfully, almost all of them were written in verse. Thank you, Bill. It’s like memorizing music. But I do find that I’m occasionally interspersing lines from a Discordian house blessing which I picked up in the early ’90s. I think it’s the iambs. I have no way to credit it, except to say it’s copyrighted 9987 O.L.W. May it please Eris.

Eris Bless This House

This house be safe from tygers wild,*
Here only tame things domiciled:
No bogle, troll, or grinch allowed,
Nor motley mob nor creeping crowd.
Bless everything within these walls,
No matter if it sits or crawls.**
Let mild weather be inside,
For those who ‘neath this rooftree bide;
And too, if not enlightenment —
Then pizza,*** love, and merriment…
And if these lines seem slightly odd,
Be glad at least they mostly rhyme.

* Lions, leopards, and armadillos not covered
** Certain crawling things require additional coverage
*** Extra cheese, unlimited toppings on Tuesdays

Beltane Bash Snapshots

 

Raising the power

I’ve just woken up on Sunday morning after a late night at the Webtor Beltane Bash and my head is filled with little video snapshots. In no particular order:

 

• Krista in her red sequined gown with slit up the front and black top hat, looking like a particularly sexy lion tamer
• Amy holding out her white hand to me while we sang Travelers Prayer
• Mike Redman looking like The Hermit from tarot
• Amanda Biggs singing an aria from Tosca in true diva style
• Tristra’s husband Ian, who we thought was just coming along for the ride, working the bonfire like a demon
• About twenty-five people trying to figure out how the hell to wrap a maypole, with Krista, Ian, and others all shouting directions at once
• Meryl in her little black skirt and high spiked black leather boots
• Green George doing his totally unselfconscious, raucous version of The Doors’ Light My Fire
• Grooving in front of the hot bonfire, flames shooting up 15 feet, sparks and debris showering down on me from 30 feet above, while hearing the message again and again: “It’s time”
• Resisting the impulse to scarf down every single deviled egg in a five-mile radius
• Not resisting the impulse to scarf down every dessert within snatching distance
• Talking to “Dave” over the food table, his googly eyes pushed back on his head and the red of his shirt drenching the aura around him
• Gentle Jana as a combination Robin Hood and dryad
• Faith with her luna moth wings, mirrored sunglass “bug eyes,” and adorable pipe cleaner antennae 
• Tristra’s beaming face as she danced the maypole, pregnant belly bulging fecundly
• Dancing to Curtis and Janiece’s I Can See Clearly Now, wishing I wore something more nimble than Doc Martens!
• The incredibly scary clown on stage right that would occasionally not just slowly nod its head, but move its shoulders up and down—I kept expecting a peal of diabolical laughter
• Glancing up, surprised to see the moon for the first time in weeks, admiring her waxing self amid the watery clouds
• Ned with his kitty nose mask, dark glasses, and especially his Spock ears, reciting his fabulously lascivious poem
• The roller derby dancers
• The roller derby pole dancers—voof!
• Dana in her sex toy tent, a huge pouf of red of red tulle surrounding a small white face covered by a huge round red metallic wig
• Janiece gently gliding on the tree swing
• Robert in his wild man make-up, perfectly toned body ready to dominate the stage at any moment
• Nell laughing continually at the latest outrageous joke and contributing plenty herself
• Laughing our way through the 5/4 Full Moonlight Dance, falling apart every time we tried to listen to each other—every other lyric was “fassa fassa”
• Steve Mascari in his fur pimp coat and zoot hat
• Trying get a groove going with Janiece and Amy Roche around the fire
• Amy Roche drawing out her groove, slim silhouette against the fire, graceful body matching liquid voice
• The silence surrounding Travelers Prayer as we sang praise to Sister Moon
• Remembering My People all night long as I basked in the scent of Lily of the Valley and re-kindled the fire in my heart
• Stopping at evil McDonald’s on the way home for chicken McNuggets because I knew I’d fall asleep before I made my own—BBQ, mmm….

A fabulous evening under the clouds, surrounded by glittering stars of our earthly firmament.

 

Tristra, Cairril, Amy sing "The Farmer" (photo by Michael Redman)

I’m a Who

In a vanity search through Google, I stumbled across my own listing in the 90’s-era “Who’s Who in the Magickal Community.” I miss being that relevant.

Poor Robin Is Dead Lyrics

(Addendum to Ouroboros post)

This is a song sung in my family for several generations. My mother learned it from her father, the seventh son of Irish immigrants. When I pointed out that the song was clearly Pagan, my mother exclaimed, “But it’s Irish!” Indeed. 🙂

Poor Robin is dead and he lays in his grave

Lays in his grave (2x)

Poor Robin is dead and he lays in his grave

Oh, oh, oh.

 

There grew an apple tree over his head

Over his head (2x)

There grew an apple tree over his head

Oh, oh, oh.

 

The apples were ripe and beginning to fall

Beginning to fall (2x)

The apples were ripe and beginning to fall

Oh, oh, oh.

 

There came an old woman a-pickin’ ’em up

Pickin’ ’em up (2x)

There came an old woman a-pickin’ ’em up

Oh, oh, oh.

 

Her baskets filled up and she started away

Started away (2x)

Her baskets filled up and she started away

Oh, oh, oh.

 

Robin jumped up and he gave her a THUMP

Gave her a thump (2x)

Robin jumped up and he gave her a THUMP

Oh, oh, oh.

 

He made the old woman go hippety-hop

Hippety-hop (2x)

He made the old woman go hippety-hop

Oh, oh, oh.

 

If you wanna hear any more you can sing it yerself

Sing it yerself (2x)

If you wanna hear any more you can sing it yerself

Oh, oh, oh!