Puke or Die

The inspiration for this piece came on the morning of the Blue Magnetic Storm. The storm is coming.

Image by Sylvia Lessing from Pixabay

The woman’s soul is poisoned.  Who has done this? She is weakened, disoriented and frail.  She becomes lost in the toxins that consume her.

The doctor comes but can not help her.  He calls the religious.  They torture her, they starve her and beat her.  They fear her and call her “witch” as she is hung. Her impoverished body is burned for all to see and all can smell her death.   Still she is poisoned.

The doctor comes and he cuts her.  Blood rushes to the floor and she swoons and faints.   Now her injury is threatening, the pain acute.  There are gaping wounds that her compromised system must try to heal.  She cannot, and she dies tied to his chair. Still she is poisoned.

Another doctor comes with leeches.  The hideous predators begin to suck her very life force from her fading body.  And now she is further traumatized and can not rid her thoughts of the creatures that were forced upon her body. Fear, disgust, and hopelessness are left, and she languishes forever in her bed.  Still she is poisoned.

Another doctor imprisons her in a place of pain and anguish.  Danger surrounds her and she is terrified.  She is cut off from those she loves, from nature, from the Moon, and from her own freedom which is the most precious gift from our Creator.  Madness besets her.  Desperation is all around.  There is no escape but to hang once again.  She remembers how and waits ’til all is quiet.  Still she is poisoned.

Now come angels, faeries, saints and Ascended Masters.  Now comes the Bodhisattva.   God sends his army.  She is confused, overwhelmed, and frightened.  “Now is the moment”, they say.   “Look to the gate and see that it is open.   Do not delay for it may swing shut again at any moment.  Such is the precarious nature of your hope for freedom.  Take it now!”

She runs.  She runs from those who tell her that she does not know what she knows.  She runs from those who have taken possession of her body.  She runs from the religious fervor which so harms the soul.   She leads us.

Run!  Run with her!  Run toward the beating drum of the shaman, for he will show how to ignite your inner fire once again.  Run to the waters and be baptized anew.  Run to the meadows and consume the herbs of the field and the fruit of the trees.  Eat the fungi which will show you where the madness hides.  Run to the mountains and feel the spirit blowing through you.

And finally,  when you are ready, run to the Witch and drink from her cauldron.   Her medicine will make you collapse and writhe as it courses through your veins, sinew, and flesh.  Like a missile it seeks the mark.  Her venom is the more powerful.  The pain will be intense.  All evil parts of you will surface and you will sweat, and vomit.  You will piss yourself, and horrible things will emerge from your bowels. You will feel paralyzed and helpless.  You’ll vomit again.

Now is the rest of this life, and into the next, spent in this manner.  But it is the key to your prison door.  Face with courage, lifetimes of poison.  Remember what you learned.   Keep running.  And keep vomiting.  One day, you will be free.

With great love,


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