A major difference between witches and psychotherapists is that witches see the mental health of women as having important political consequences.
quote by Naomi R. Goldenberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dragula
Dragula
Dead I am the one, exterminating son
Slipping through the trees, strangling the breeze
Dead I am the sky, watching angels cry
While they slowly turn, conquering the worm
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Dead I am the pool, spreading from the fool
Weak and want you need, nowhere as you bleed
Dead I am the rat, feast upon the cat
Tender is the fur, dying as you purr
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Do it baby, do it baby
Do it baby, do it baby
Burn like an animal
Dead I am the life, dig into the skin
Knuckle crack the bone, 21 to win
Dead I am the dog, hound of hell you cry
Devil on your back, I can never die
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Do it baby, do it baby
Do it baby, do it baby
Burn like an animal
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
Dig through the ditches,
Burn through the witches
I slam in the back of my
Dragula
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Although the most acute judges of the witches and even the witches themselves, were convinced of the guilt of witchery, the guilt nevertheless was non-existent. It is thus with all guilt.
quote by Friedrich Nietzsche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Want To Be A Real Big Witch
You want to really be a witch?
Well...
I knew some pretty wicked witches,
Who...
Made me pitch to them,
Many a fit.
And I split.
You want to be a real big witch,
Well...
I knew some pretty wicked witches,
Who...
Made me pitch to them,
Many a fit.
And I split.
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches,
Don't you?
You do.
Don't you.
You do.
Don't you.
You do.
And you're proving it too!
You do.
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches...
Don't you?
You do.
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches.
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be the biggest at the ball of all witches.
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch,
Don't you?
You want to be a real big witch.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Try To Think Why Her Answer Always Ends In A No
May be she is trapped inside a water droplet
Resting on a green leaf
Of a rose plant
in the eden garden
The garden has a fairy
the fairy has a curse
the curse has a name
the name has a price
There are witches in the story
The witches are very bad
They rob the the flowers of smell
And kill the fairy’s smile
One day, a little boy
with a little heart
and two teddy bears
walks along that way
He kisses and walk -
The jasmine and the daisies
The lilac and the lilies
The roses and the fairies.
The rose has a name
It holds a dropp of love
The kiss is a game
Pushes the dropp of love
The lady in the droplet
Falls down the leaves
The boy leaps down
To hold it before breaks
The droplet breaks
The water splinters
the boy drops his heart
and break it into pieces
The girl is freed
The boy is dying
The girl does cry
The boy does smile
The fairy is sad
The witches are mad
The fairies are hot
The witches are not
The flowers smell beautiful
The fairy can smile
The curse is broken
The price has been paid
The battle is set,
The flowers decide to bet
The fairies will rollover
But witches are no pushover.
The fight is fought
The witches are lost
The fairies win
And everybody grins
The boy is dead
With a broken heart
The fairies believe
They can bring him back
The fairies promise
About magic and sorcery
The life is simple
We can buy again like grocery
The shopping is a trap
You buy one
You get one free.
Here the witches are free
The girl is trapped
Between pain and love
She things again
And decides its a no
poem by Chelliah Pandian
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burn the Witches
Burn the witches, burn the witches,
don't take time to sew your stitches
Burn the witches, burn the witches
Good is the thing that you favor, evil is your sour flavor
You cannot sedate all the things you hate
Burn your bridges, burn your bridges,
don't take time to sew your stitches
Burn your bridges, burn your bridges
Good is the thing that you favor, evil is your sour flavor
I don't need your hate, I decide my fate
You cannot sedate all the things you rape
poem by Jacob Bryant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strange Same Dogma
Burn the witches. Burn the witches
Don't take time to sew the stitches
Burn the witches. Burn the witches
Don't take time to sew the stitches
Hand shake, ring sign, snake eye, bite mine
Hand shake, ring sign, snake eye, bite mine
I don't need your hate
I decide my fate
Burn your bridges. Burn your bridges
Don't take time to sew the stitches
Burn your bridges. Burn your bridges
Don't take time to sew the stitches
Levi, Crowley, Golden Dawn
Strange same dogma, on and on
I don't need your hate
I decide my fate
We don't viscerate
Your mind masturbates
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woman Of Salem
1692, six in the morning of june,
Sally kegley, age thirty-four,
Closed her diary shed kept for two scores.
Salem, salem, witches must be hung.
Let my daughter burn my book,
Let her learn to sew and cook.
Teach her not to read but weave,
Ask her not to speak but weep.
Salem, salem, witches must be hung.
Sally kegley knows how to cure the ill,
Sally kegley sees through us at will.
Salem, salem, witches must be hung.
All the towns people rushing to the hill,
Their eyes shining, ready for the kill.
Sallys flesh bound to the cross,
Her eyes searching for the ones who are close.
Oh, why? oh, why? oh, why? oh, why?
Oh, why? why? why? why? why? why? why?
Help! help! help! help!
Help! help! help! help!
Must kill, must hang, must kill, must hang,
Must kill, must hang, must kill, must hang,
Must kill, must hang, must kill, must hang,
Must kill, must hang...
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dogma
Burn the witches, burn the witches, dont take time to sew your your stitches
Burn the witches, burn the witches
Good is the thing that you favor, evil is your sour flavor
You cannot sedate all the things you hate
Burn your bridges, burn your bridges, dont take time to sew your stitches
Burn your bridges, burn your bridges
Good is the thing that you favor, evil is your sour flavor
I dont need your hate, I decide my fate
You cannot sedate, all the things you rape
song performed by by Marilyn Manson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bitterliciousness
Whatever is said,
To ignite their taste for a fight...
It will be stirred and heated.
And brewed overnight.
The more the petty,
It is better loved like that!
Easier to scoop wickedness to dish,
From motorized mouths cussed filled.
As if on their lips...
There is a bitterliciousness,
Craved.
And there's no getting enough of it!
Not these days.
Whatever is said,
To ignite their taste for a fight...
It will be stirred and heated.
And brewed overnight.
These warlocks and witches were bred,
To entice...
Incitement.
These warlocks and witches were fed,
To bite, sting and leave their evil.
The more the petty,
It is better loved like that!
Easier to scoop wickedness to dish,
From motorized mouths cussed filled.
As if on their lips...
There is a bitterliciousness,
Craved.
And there's no getting enough of it!
Not these days.
These warlocks and witches were bred,
To entice...
Incitement.
These warlocks and witches were fed,
To bite, sting and leave their evil.
And be praised for the blood that oozes.
No matter whose it is!
Or to whom their deeds are inflicted.
These warlocks and witches were bred,
To entice...
Incitement.
On hint!
And that is the focus of their principle.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brooms Witches And Mothers
Witches have broom's
When i a child
Mother's had broom's
Mother's ran with broom's
Mother's ran fast with broom's
I was a very swift boy
I had to run from many broom's
Sometimes mother would strike with broom
Therefore throwing herself of balance
As i ran i would laugh
Like a kookaburra
She would become a angry mother with broom
She would call for me to stop running
So she could give me her broom
I would keep running
For i did not like broom's
Witches like broom's
Mother's like broom's
poem by Allan James Saywell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Looking at affordable health care, I think it is important that we look not only at prescription drugs, but also make sure that there is a major focus on health care.
quote by Kendrick Meek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fear of serious injury alone cannot justify oppression of free speech and assembly. Men feared witches and burnt women. It is the function of speech to free men from the bondage of irrational fears.
quote by Louis D. Brandeis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gun nuts
The FBI has considerably extended
the list of those whose mental health
makes it unwise for them to purchase guns…
that means, I guess, those whose state
was discovered before they bought
their first, or second, or fourteenth gun..
but what of those whose mental health
is dangerously unbalanced, after
they buy their guns and use them?
who graduate enthusiastically
from air-rifles aimed at beer cans,
to planning how to gun down
their teachers or their fellow students?
then there are those who fight heroically
throughout a campaign; but return,
as veterans from Vietnam, to a ruined mental health?
or – let’s be quite contentious here –
suppose a whole people, let’s say Texans
or Republicans, or Afghans, or some extremist sect,
want to fight each other; and
an impartial expert called in by
the United Nations (uh?) declares
that neither side are fit in mental health
to buy, or to be issued, any guns? …
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Season of the Witch
Most of the country is hushed out there
As the Moon climbs over the hill,
The creatures out in the wild beware
And the air is breathless, still,
The deer is stood at the edge of the wood
Afraid to go in too soon,
With the animals skittish, out in the yard
A hare stares up at the Moon.
There's something amiss in the air tonight
Both furtive and dark, unclean,
Shadows are lurking by old stone walls
In wait for a sign to be seen,
The men all sit in a vacant trance
As the women go out by the ditch,
Wearing their smoke-black cloaks in the dance
For the Season of the Witch.
Then like the flutter of vampire bats
The witches take to their brooms,
Hang on to their tall black pointed hats
And fly low over the tombs,
They head in a swarm up Gallows Hill
Fulfilling some ancient rite,
While watchful eyes at the window-sill
Will get little sleep this night.
For Alison, Lindy, Carmen and Deb
Are watching their mothers leave,
Tucked into bed as their mothers' fled
The girls creep out to deceive,
Pulling the curtains aside they see
The flight go over the hill,
And hear the cackling sounds of glee,
Then the air is cold and still.
Then Lindy calls to the other three
Through the window out to the farm:
‘Let's climb up there, where we all can see
What they're doing from high in the barn! '
So they dress themselves in their winter cloaks
And they put on their witches hats
That the mothers had made for Halloween,
Had decorated with bats.
They climbed up over the stacked up hay
To the roof of the timbered barn,
And they peered from the moonlit bullock dray
To the trees by the hilltop farm,
But the witches danced in a grove of trees
Quite hidden from anyone's sight,
‘Let's take our brooms, ' said Alison Keys
‘And fly while the Moon is bright! '
‘Let's fly while the Moon is bright, ' she said,
So they stood at the edge of the hay,
Looked down to the old paved cattle yard
And the tractor, over the way.
‘We saw them fly, we can do it too,
We're witches tonight, we've seen!
Tonight is the magical mystery night
For witches - it's Halloween! '
They mounted their broomsticks, held their breath
Then leapt each one with a scream,
They dropped like stones to the cattle yard
On the night of Halloween,
They were found impaled on the thresher blades
That was parked beside the ditch,
And the screams could be heard a mile away
In the Season of the Witch!
15 October 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghosts
Some ghosts are women,
neither abstract nor pale,
their breasts as limp as killed fish.
Not witches, but ghosts
who come, moving their useless arms
like forsaken servants.
Not all ghosts are women,
I have seen others;
fat, white-bellied men,
wearing their genitals like old rags.
Not devils, but ghosts.
This one thumps barefoot, lurching
above my bed.
But that isn't all.
Some ghosts are children.
Not angels, but ghosts;
curling like pink tea cups
on any pillow, or kicking,
showing their innocent bottoms, wailing
for Lucifer.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Many soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan suffer from serious, long-term, physical and mental health problems, due to their service. It is unconscionable to cut the already limited health care benefits available to these brave men and women.
quote by Mark Dayton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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