Category Archives: For the Love of It

Meretricious Madame Mouley – #napowrimo22

Sometimes I find a story in history that is begging to be told – this is one of them –

I was researching an ancestor General Poeymiru, and found this gruesome tale. It was going to be a short story but since it is national poetry month I thought I would try writing a poem – It may have been wise to stay as a story x

I  would appreciate any feedback on how I can improve – Thanks for reading!

A woman lived in a wall in Fez,
her treachery you would never guess,
the press called her the Fez Ogress,
and her slaves lay down at her bequest.

When a Muslim garrison mutinied,
they abandoned their officers brutally,
but the Frenchmen found their sanctuary,
in the Chez of Madame Mouley.

Mouley, Mouley cheated the grave because of the officers that she saved.

Before the officers could be oppressed,
the girls with razors and great finesse,
Shaved them and put them into a dress;
In a strange harem they made their nest.

Funny how pretty a man can be,
with a bit of make up and a veil or three,
When the mob turned up they couldn’t see,
the frenchmen in Madame Mouley’s.

Mouley, Mouley cheated the grave because of the Frenchmen that she shaved.

Poeymiru and a thousand men,
were given a warning from the fatal femme,
Intelligence that they didn’t ken,
that a plot was hatching to murder them.

But when they came to give her a prize,
The women of Fez raised up their cry,
That the French men shouldn’t Idolise,
Meretricious  Madame Mouley.

Mouley, Mouley cheated the grave because the garrison was unscathed.

For in her home in the wall in Fez,
important men would come for sex,
Her slaves were really put to the test,
never found any peaceful rest.

They danced all day and danced all night,
they had to stay and face their plight,
No feasible way to take their flight,
from the house of Madam Mouley.

Mouley, Mouley cheated the grave because she kept such pretty slaves.

One dancing lady held her ground,
she was told to dance and whirl around,
with a scalding goblet on her crown,
when she burnt she never made a sound.

To dance with danger, boiling tea,
can not be done very easily,
she couldn’t fight she couldn’t flee,
dance naked poor Cherrifa.

Cherrifa slave girl danced in vain; if she spilt the tea it was her to blame.

Then a fat old Pasha wanted pins,
to be stuck into Cherrifa’s skin,
he heated the bit that didn’t go in,
but instead the fire welled up within.

She’d had enough of being a slut,
so she hit in him in his greedy gut,
and he came back with an uppercut,
split the lip of sweet Cherrifa.

Cherrifa slave girl, danced in vain; it nearly made her go insane.

Madame Moulet screamed and spat,
when Cherrifa hit the aristocrat,
they kicked and beat her with a brutal bat,
and feed her flesh to Mouley’s cat.

And under the fig tree by the wall in Fez,
lay the bones of poor Cheriffa, dead,
yet Mouley never lost her head,
when she murdered bold Cherrifa.

Cherrifa slave girl danced in vain; endured a torture most profane.

The children watched her cold demise,
they couldn’t tell, they couldn’t cry,
they couldn’t find the answer why,
cos they knew that they would also die.

They couldn’t run they couldn’t hide,
or contemplate their suicide,
they couldn’t even get outside,
to pray for poor Cherrifa.

Cherrifa slave girl danced in vain; death her only freedom’s gain.

The children couldn’t flee from harm,
but the fig tree fell and raised alarm,
so this time the French Gendarme,
were forced to ignore old Mouley’s charm.

All she had to say to them,
was I saved the lives of 1000 men,
they couldn’t see, they couldn’t ken.
Behind the wall in Madame Mouley’s.

Africa’s stolen sons and daughters, in the wall starved and tortured.

‘Answer in the name of the law!
Is there anyone behind that wall? ‘
All they heard was a trapped cat’s call,
bumps and scratches, that was all.

‘Would you walk into my private chamber?
Would you question my behaviour?
Would you insult Poeymirau’s saviour?
Said formidable Madame Mouley

Africa’s stolen sons and daughters, were buried in the bricks and mortar.

As the Gendarme turned to leave,
and Moulet thought she’d won reprieve,
the wall did sigh, the wall did heave,
and the Frenchmen wouldn’t be deceived.

Since one small boy did give the shout,
we are dying here please get us out,
now the Gendarme had the proof to doubt.
The terrible Madame Moulet.

Africa’s stolen sons and daughters, four days without food or water.

They smashed and took down all the plaster,
Mouley got in a dreadful fluster,
She knew that this could spell disaster,
When the news got to the general master.

Madam Mouley couldn’t flee
Emaciated children finally free,
they told the police the whole story,
Of evil Madam Mouley

Africa’s stolen sons and daughters, barely escaped a brutal slaughter.

The gendarme had to apprehend,
French colonials couldn’t defend,
they had no choice but to condemn,
and plan for Madam Mouley’s end.

They told her they would have her head,
then instead she hid in a prison bed,
and the people assumed that she was dead.
Grave cheating Madame Mouley

Madame Mouley cheated the grave, despite the children she enslaved.

Mouley dodged the guillotine blade,
She already had her rescue laid,
by the men she saved and the men she played,
The cost of freedom was pre-paid.

A year and a day and she was free
the twist of justice was for-seen,
but one thing she could never flee,
was the ghost of sweet Cheriffa.

Now Cheriffa dances in Mouley’s head, and she wishes she had lost it instead.

Leave a comment

Filed under For the Love of It, Napowrimo, Poetry, Political

A Shanty for the Pirates of Dead Island UK

Taken an oath under maritime law?
Heave ho, there’s no need to frown
They’ll make you pull ropes til your fingers are raw
Heave ho, and tie the men down

Heave ho, they tax the whole town
Their off shore accounts save the whole company
Heave ho, they keep the costs down

Now remain in the dock, and give up your berth
Heave ho, and sign your name, clown
They”ll pick up the salvage to get what you’re worth
Heave ho and bring the slaves down

1666, lost ewer the sea
Heave ho, they burned the town down
They’ve stolen your ship by Admiralty
Heave ho, they said you were drowned

You are legally dead, by Cestui Que Vie
Heave ho, can’t you read MRS BROWN?
They’re safe in their bloodline; the right ancestry
Heave ho, they wear the right gowns

You chose to agree, you ‘orrible lot
Heave ho, can’t find common ground
and by your agreement you got what you got
Heave ho, you gave up your crown.

So, tie the men, bring the men, hold the men down!

anon skull crossbonesMaritime Law – The common Law with the addition of 80,000 made up Acts and Policies that humans were fooled into agreeing to over a long period of time by an elite few. The Cestui Que Vie Trust Act of 1666 was passed during the Great Fire of London. It declared everyone legally dead. The assets were put into a trust and are still held as salvage by the state.

Grave stones have names in capital letters because they are legally dead. You do not own property, you only think you do. Read your title deed carefully, it says that the state reserves all its rights.

Are you dead? Yes, which is why your name is spelt in block capitals on all legal documents. Day 4

Leave a comment

Filed under Awakening, Burning, Featured from Wizard Newspaper, For the Love of It, Napowrimo, Poetry, Political, Uncategorized

We are the Music Makers


We are the Music Makers

We are the music makers,
and we banged the drum too long.
We’ve been the dreamers of dreams;
of a world gone wrong.
Wondering what may break us.
Imagining our own creation.
Swimming in the desolate streams;
of fearful manifestation.
Forget those world forsakers,
World losers gone too far,
Lunacy the pale moon gleams:
Twinkle, twinkle little star.
Now all you movers and shakers,
Rise up, raw in revolution.
Til the world for ever, it seems;
Breaks down this false illusion.

1 Comment

Filed under Awakening, Burning, For the Love of It, Inspired, Napowrimo, Poetry, Political, Wizard Fix

Re-member Richard Whiting


I have been studying ritual and esoteric magic systems for over 20 years, and since becoming a Bard of Avebury in 1998 have been openly leading and taking part in public ceremony in Glastonbury and at festivals across the UK. I am a trained VortexHealer interested in Earth energy systems and leylines. My work within the Merlin lineage has led me to work with sacred space and geomantic stress. My love of community brought me to Glastonbury.
In September 2007 in London I attended an Intensive Earthshift Class as part of my VortexHealing training. Some of the work we did had the intention to clear the earth of negative energies that could be used as a source of power for black magic. This dense ‘black magic’ energy had accumulated on the planet through the intentional use of magical ritual, torturous death, and events involving pain and deep trauma. These sources of power are held in pockets of energy in the land that can be drawn from to support potent magical practice with ill intent.

My consciousness was drawn directly beneath the Tor. As if there was, at least at one time in history, such dense energy moving through the location that it had stuck and it was still there. I breathed rapidly, along with the rest of the class, and followed the instructions we were given. I felt an intense rush of energy; it felt like pulling out a plug and leaving room for fresh clear flow.

Much good work has been done within our community to lessen the impact of these killings, and it has had a potent affect on many levels; physically, spiritually, magically and energetically. Each of us is a part of the bigger picture and the healing that has occurred at this location of great global importance is crucial in the rebuilding of common unity.

My interest in local history and a little bit of synchronicity soon led me to the Glastonbury Documents. I found that there was in fact a ritual murder right on the top of Glastonbury Tor! Now I have written a document to detail my findings. You can look forward to hearing more about it soon.

On the 13th November 2012, at the Scorpio dark moon we met at The White Spring ‘For the Love of It’ to gather together and celebrate common unity. It was a joyous night, a true tribal gathering that warmed our hearts. At midnight, we stood in circle together to re-member Whiting and his companions and to acknowledge and empower the persistence of love and common unity that cannot be broken. Our community is coming together, I see it all around me, different groups working together, civic support opening up into areas of the community that they have never before. The rift is healing in Glaston and I give thanks for all those who have been called to play their part.


Filed under Astrology, Awakening, For the Love of It, Glastonbury, Living Mythology, Ritual, The White Spring, Transformation, VortexHealing

The White Spring – Beltane Climax – For the Love of It

At Lunar Beltane each year, Scorpio full moon, we have a gathering at the White Spring, from dusk to dawn, For the Love of It!

This year a friend of ours was hand-fasted on top of Glastonbury Tor in the afternoon, so sadly I would miss the reception and celebration afterwards at Paddington Farm, but I was delighted to be able to offer a blessing at The White Spring before taking the bridal party up the Tor for the hand-fasting ceremony.

At around 1pm, the couple came and took some time in the peaceful courtyard whilst their family and friends arrived. When we went inside for the blessing the handmaidens had to lift the bride’s dress so it didn’t sit in the water. I welcomed everyone and offered an elemental blessing, using the water, incense, candle flame and stone.

Phoenix is a long time friend and rainbow brother, so it was very special for me to offer this blessing to their union. We stood at a portal to the otherworld and invited the blessings of the spirits of Avalon.

Then we all joined hands and lifted our hearts in celebration and support of this union. After much cheering, we went outside and prepared for the ascent up the Tor. Taurus would be leading the men around to the egg-stone and up a steep incline to the top, whilst the bridal party would use the path from the bottom of Wellhouse Lane. Taurus blew his horn and the men set off. The rest of us waited about 15 minutes before leaving to give them time to go around. We climbed, pausing to catch our breath and look at the path below. It was sweet to look back and see the trail of people following the bride up the hill.

We arrived to a huge circle of people. A beautiful handfasting ceremony followed, Lyn (the ceremonialist) was fabulous, and the characters who spoke for each direction were perfect for the energy that they were expressing. We all turned outwards to express the love of these two people, and the love in our hearts out to the world. It was all so beautiful; a powerful tribal feeling, but I couldn’t linger too long; I had to get on.

We had already worked out the format for the evening ceremony, but we had soup to cook, ingredients to get together and equipment to load into the van. Max had got everything together when I arrived back from the Tor, so I had a chance to sit and have a cup of tea.

We arrived with plenty of time for Max and I to unload the wood, set up the tables, get the soup hot and prepare the chai. When we got there we found a large group of people from Slovakia – they had previously asked to book the place and I had told them that it wasn’t possible because of this celebration, so they decided to come along and support. And that they did! Before we knew it there were about twenty people offering to help unload the wood, light the candles and do anything else we asked of them to, it was great! We set up in record time. Many hands …

This meant that there was plenty of time for them to hold a short ceremony inside before we began. Each of them had brought a large peace candle with them and they all lit them and stood in the central chamber. All of their faces were aglow and the building was really bright. After I had slightly freaked out in my head about the candle wax dripping everywhere (and resolved it), I saw how beautiful it was. I could not understand what they were saying and singing, but I could feel the energy. They sang until we were ready to start the ceremony.

We lit the fire outside, talked of Brigid and the nurturing flame, and invited everyone to join us inside. Max and I climbed behind the central pool. This is a perfect place to do public ceremony from; the pool has a lateral wave that helps the acoustics in the building and projects your voice. It also lends inspiration and power to the words. We opened the circle, with Max inviting the blessings and honouring the four directions whilst I dramatically represented each of them with the incense, candle flame, water and a large rock. I then called to the spirits of above, below and within. We asked that each guard, guide and protect all who visit here, living or otherwise.

We invited everyone to lend their energy to the creation of a powerful orb of light, feeling the energy by clapping our hands until they tingle, then intensifying that energy to make it bigger so that we may co-create a wonderful sphere to keep us all safe and held throughout the whole night. Then we said a prayer to the water.

We shared food and drank spiced apple juice. A few people came and asked whether we would be heating up the water tonight, we had done this three years previous and (I think) because it is 2012, people assumed we would do the same. Perhaps we will do it again before the year is out but not tonight. Several people bathed in the cold waters and so many people expressed to me how the building felt more alive, more joyful.

A few women from the singing group were there, so we sang some chants and lots of people joined in with us. An elder bard of Glastonbury arrived and treated us to some wonderful seasonal songs by the fire, Jack in the Green, Hal an tow, Cuckoo… excellent songs that are now becoming familiar to me. The (holders of the roles of) May Queen and Summer King at the town celebrations arrived, invisible and unnoticed. The Queen bathed in the central pool, looking just like a pre-Raphaelite painting. Then the drumming …

Oh the drumming, it has been a bit of an issue in the past; medicine drums are pretty okay, but it really is quite loud in the building when djembes are played, and usually 10 minutes or so is enough. A previous keeper of the Spring who had a love of drumming had arrived with a djembe and asked if he could drum for a bit. When he began in the Brigid bower, I felt inspired to just dance, and I mean really dance! I surrendered to the beat and encouraged some of the Slovakian women to join me – and it went on! The bower was filled with dancing women, then the drums would die down and the women would leave to make room for another group of women to dance inside the bower. It was quite incredible, and I let it go on a little longer than I would usually (it was Beltane after all, and the energy was really rising). It was such a powerful moment and the building seemed to love it. On the opposite side of the building, men were gathered, all getting ready to bathe in the pool; they all jumped in together making a huge splash! How fantastic!

Just as it was feeling like there had been enough drumming energy, Daygan turned up; what joy! I love it when he plays his mandolin at The White Spring; it is so very magical, stirring up the fae energy; tripping and dancing on light-hearted notes of bliss – I immediately get transported to another realm entirely. I danced at each of the shrines, and let myself go. There often comes a moment at the all night gatherings at the Spring when the spirit of faery shines through so strongly that it is easy to see the fae nature of all the visitors. The light-footed faery dancers, the elven warrior, the gnome like character by the fire, sometimes I look and can see the slight hint of wings or little horns and occasionally I wonder if they have come through the front door, or a portal to the otherworld in the depths of the building. Daygan’s music often evokes that very moment.

Later in the evening, three djembes turned up from a drumming session in the Rifleman’s pub. They began to play after Daygan had finished. I told them that they could play for 10 minutes. I explained that it rattles the building if we have too much drumming. They played, gently at first, and then it got louder and louder. Everyone was loving it, the wellhouse was full of people dancing. But after a while it felt like it needed to stop, so checked in with the shrines to get a feel for how the building was being affected. It had soon became too much – the beats echoed back from the walls and the water until there was no distinguishing of each beat and it was nothing but noise. I approached the drummer with the biggest drum and as I did, saw that he had already understood; he had felt the rattle. The acoustics of the place are great, drumming to raise energy is good for 10 or 15 minutes, but beyond that, it often shakes it up too much.

The drumming stopped and the drummers stayed for some chai. The group from Slovakia had left to climb the Tor and we chatted and sang by the fire. People from the wedding party began to drift by on their way home, and we got to hear stories of the gathering up at the farm. At the moment of full moon we paused for silence, and in the morning we listened to the dawn chorus. The sky was getting lighter.

Then Pok the bard arrived. He chanted inside the building whilst we broke down the coals of the fire. We carried the fire pit, still gently glowing, into the King of the world of Faery shrine and gathered around it in the semi darkness to give our thanks to the energies that had supported us all night. We closed the circle and after Pok had spent a few moments by the coals he came outside and treated us to his wonderfully crafted words. An epic battle involving nubiru and a great earth worm; magic meeting sci-fi to create a sublime rendition of powerful proportions, delivered with unique style and a twinkle in the eye.

Then a man who I shall now remember as King Richard totally blew me away. A kind-hearted man who has been around for a couple of weeks, who by his own admission drinks a bit too much and rambles on a bit, he has slightly scruffy dress and no fixed abode. He stepped up and, like a true Shakespearian actor, quoted a speech from Richard III. Quality!

Everything had been perfect all night long, the scene had changed and shifted throughout the night, from climactic to gentle and back again – it was another amazing Beltane night. Our next ‘For the Love of It’ all night celebration takes place at Samhain, the other side of the wheel awaits us; but first we have a glorious summer to come.

Bright Blessings



Filed under Awakening, Festivals, For the Love of It, garden magic, Glastonbury, Guided Journey, Inspired, Living Mythology, Ritual, The White Spring, Transformation, Uncategorized