desert sea

6

TONIGHT: MASS SPELL AGAINST DONALD TRUMP! Here’s the spell!

(Light white candle)
Hear me, oh spirits
Of Water, Earth, Fire, and Air
Heavenly hosts
Demons of the infernal realms
And spirits of the ancestors
(Light inscribed orange candle stub)
I call upon you
To bind
Donald J. Trump
So that he may fail utterly
That he may do no harm
To any human soul
Nor any tree
Animal
Rock
Stream
or Sea
Bind him so that he shall not break our polity
Usurp our liberty
Or fill our minds with hate, confusion, fear, or despair
And bind, too,
All those who enable his wickedness
And those whose mouths speak his poisonous lies
I beseech thee, spirits, bind all of them
As with chains of iron
Bind their malicious tongues
Strike down their towers of vanity
(Invert Tower tarot card)
I beseech thee in my name
(Say your full name)
In the name of all who walk
Crawl, swim, or fly
Of all the trees, the forests,
Streams, deserts,
Rivers and seas
In the name of Justice
And Liberty
And Love
And Equality
And Peace
Bind them in chains
Bind their tongues
Bind their works
Bind their wickedness


(Light the small photo of Trump from the flame of the orange candle stub and hold carefully above the ashtray)
(Speak the following loudly and with increasing passion as the photo burns to ashes)
So mote it be!
So mote it be!
So mote it be!
(Blow out orange candle, visualizing Trump blowing apart into dust or ash*)
(Pinch, blow, or snuff out the white candle, ending the ritual)

(Sourced from Huffington Post)

✨Have fun witches, let him have it ✨
Remember that if you don’t have certain components for this spell, you can always change it to fit your own craft!

flickr

Salton Sea, California - 1962 by Brad Smith
Via Flickr:
Salton Sea, California - 1962. Photo by George Mann.

instagram

This aerial video includes some clips from Iceland, New York, New Mexico, Oregon & California.

you are enough. and so much more than that. you are stars and moonlight, you are deserts and the sea, you are rivers and thunderstorms, you are flowers and mountains, you are the void and fulness, you are the earth and you are the night sky, you are everything and everything is within you. you are the whole universe. you are allowed to be small and you are allowed to be big, take up as much space as you need, you are allowed to feel something or everything at once, you are allowed to be loud and scream, you are allowed to hide and you are allowed to rise and shine. you are allowed to be. you are enough.

Caffeine Challenge

Prompt: “No one tell you how big empty is.” and “Can’t Go On Without You” by Kaleo

 

Riding through the prairie. Long grass blows in endless wind.

Jazz in a New York bar. Smoke curls from the end of a cigarette. A woman with elbow-length gloves and lips as red as blood.

Heat rising from cracked tarmac. Endless blue sea and deserted streets. The yellow sign of the post office is the only end in sight.

An Emerald City rising from desert, but it is smoke and mirrors. It is illusion, and you are afraid.

The last mashtryoshka doll.

Unreal hands, and eyes that no longer belong to you.

Dramatic music in the background to strolling down a hill. Hair gusts in an unseen wind. An explosion behind, and you don’t look back. You never look back.

“Can’t go on without you.” Yet the world keeps turning, and children keep playing, and one day new children will be born to replace the ones who have grown.

Lancelot crept in through Guinevere’s window. Blood on the sheets from his bandaged hand, and golden hair falling around milk-soft skin. The sigh of lovers in the dark and a kiss that tasted of coffee and regret.

Arthur would have burned her for less.

A kingdom fell. At Camlann, in flames, the horn sounded its last call. A man shed his son’s blood for love of a woman, and the men who loved him in turn wept and followed to the brink of oblivion.

Better to hope that no one tells you how big empty is.

His side of the wardrobe.

A photo album full of your friends, and not a single image of you.

The fog that fills your head.

Ships that float through a hundred burning stars. The stars are falling.

We don’t want this, but we suffer anyway.

Hair as black as a raven’s wing, and the tower after the princess ran away to freedom – to a prison of a different sort.

At least the villains are honest.

We wanted pirates and magic. We found changelings and fairy rings, and decks slippery with blood. It is never as romantic as the stories make it sound. Why else do we need storytellers, if not to rewrite the stories we cannot bear to remember?

Empty is too far, and big is too abstract, for our brains to comprehend. Know only that stars burn, and kings die, for far less than you.

You are the most important thing in the galaxy.

You are the smallest speck of stardust.

Did you know
whole worlds are hidden inside clouds
their centers composed
entirely
of stories we cannot see
not mist nor rain or ice
but green forests and purple mountains
golden deserts and deep blue seas
peopled with the ghosts of caricatures
here a gentleman fox
tipping his brown felt fedora
there a fierce warrior
glittering in her polished mail
in vapor
a more lissom existence
here
we are bodiless powers
who sculpt tales from thinnest smoke
reflect our fragile constructions
from a careful architecture of glass
inside our mirrored houses
we hide
crouched in padded cubicles
behind our cold metal desks
under heavy fleece blankets
who can say
what is real