Witches, Wizards, and Devils

Myth stories. I mean really. I may come from lineage of two witches burned in the Salem witch trials, so this also happens to  peak my interest in the topic. But…these wood prints should remind us of a few things. 


Let us remember…Christianity comes in spear heading the world with it’s own myths. Strong smart women were labeled witches, and men who do things unconventionally are wizards. Unlike today where it is status quo popular to be a witch… just by saying you are. I digress… Let us remember the holiest dance and drink with the Devil too. We all do. 


Sometimes it is the most conformed and confined individuals that are the sickest. But to some degree… everyone dances and drinks with their demons. Shit, some probably live with them full time. It is times when we don’t handle our problems like we should. By escapism: drinking, sex, drugs, or whatever vice.  By not using all your self worth. By not always doing your best. By not being somebody, or doing something useful in this world. Not using your self for the greater good. 

But, we all need reprieve here and there. Sometimes to do your best one next day… you have to fall down in the days prior. You have to tear everything apart. Set it on fire. You have to literally fuck everything up. Destruct to construct. Without death, there is no renewal. Without the bad, there is no good. So spend a little time with your demons here and there. It may make you a better person….


To see the light, one must be open to seeing the dark. 

Never conform. 

Just do things the best way you see fit.  

Click on the link for the rest of the wood print series…  

Witches, Wizards, and Devils

To end with a quote from Oi Polloi 

“No, don’t burn the witch. Burn, burn the rich!” -Oi Polloi

-K.K. Powell

The audience.

Three fat sausage fingers slide up and down her shoulder.

His pony tail smooshed to the back of his head…shifted to the right.

He didn’t have time between his nap, and the show.

Too much pot he smoked before the show.

Shewp, shewp, shewp, shewp.

My eyes grow wide.

Fuck…I am stuck next to these two for the next hour and a half.

Schhhhleeeeerp

As the man on the other side sucks his spit through the canyons of his teeth.

The pulled pork threads sit locked and loaded

I want to hear the speaker speak,

I consider asking these annoying people to stop with their annoyances.

Shewp, shewp, shewp, shewp.

Scratch, scratch, scratchity scratch, scratch, scratch.

Scccchhhhleeeeerp.

My upset and overwhelmed brain begins to force my eyeballs out of my head.

I point a my index finger to my left ear to the incessant arm brusher.

For fuck’s sake.

Is the public display of attention THAT important.

Stop that already!

I visualize a mad man lunging toward him.

Grabbing his fingers, and chopping them off one by one.

Wait, is this a nervous tick?

Am I being a dick..?

My tiny index finger is this man’s saving grace.

Sccccchhhhlerrrrrp.

Please?!

Just go get some fucking tooth floss you indigent!!!

Nope, don’t say it.

Don’t be rude.

You drove a long way to hear this man speak…

The speaker speaks.

I fumble in my chair uncomfortably.

His voice rises just enough to muffle twiddledee and twiddledum.

A girl giggles nervously.

Another howls like she used to at a 1980’s arena rock concert.

My name is Ashley…

I’m thiiiiiirteeeen.

As she kisses her nineteen year old boyfriend on the lips.

Slips the tongue.

A french one.

We all know about THAT one.

I snicker.

He speaks, and reads me a tale or two

Then yawn

Lightning strikes from the rugged dark blue and grey clouds above.

His voice carries

as the thunders roll through the purple hills.

Crisis averted for twiddledee and twiddledum.

-K.K. Powell

 

Wild kingdom of Oakland, California

Wild rat scurrying from one bush to the next. My dog salavates, wiggling herself out of her collar moving so fast that she turns to a flash of white lightning. I scream, “oh my god! No! No! No!!!” with an incomprehensible gibberish…the dog is not distracted. Her one thought, “Does it squeak?” Her head buried into the bushes searching frantically. Right, left, left, right. “It’s gotta be close!”… but her luck has flashed right before her compulsive little brown eyes.  Wild cat sized rat is just fast enough, and safe. I laugh so hard at my great American wig out aka scream of fear of plague/rats safety, that I double over in laughter and let out a pigs snort. Attractive man behind me chuckles. Ah shit, save face! My face flushes hot turning red. “You should’ve seen the size of that rat?! It was the size of a fucking cat!” He tells me he would’ve been alarmed too laughing along with me. We part, going our separate ways. I utter to myself, “I’m a total mess.”  Large rats jumping out of bushes are a scary thought. Perhaps less scary if my wild imagination wouldn’t fling me down the rabbit hole occasionally. 

In the night before two cats scream, scratch, hiss, and attempt to end each other’s will to live. It was the talk of the neighbors as I arrive home with the cat sized rat chaser. The dog with pride jumps, and licks snorting away happily at the familiar faces. “Did you hear all that racket last night?”… the owner of my apartments eyes light up. I nod in agreement and state how bad it all sounded. “It was raccoons mating!!! I turned the light on them, and they stopped. Then five hours later they were still there. I wondered if they got stuck?!” Laughter flows, “You’ve got to be kidding me?” His eyebrows raised in amazement goes on to tell me that it’s the god foresaken truth.  Good thing I told the dog to stay close to me that night while she ventured into the dark night to relieve herself. If she tried to get into that action, my heart would’ve likely stopped. 

-K.K. Powell

Mt. Punk

Up at Mt. Shasta recently I have found my creative faucet is flowing again. I just needed some mountain time. So I leave you with this joke that I was told on a hike. You see, the people of Mt. Shasta can be very metaphysical in their beliefs, but also have a great sense of humor. As someone who used to have a mohawk once upon a time, I found this very funny. 

So Garth, the camp host told Critter from Ashville, North Carolina… who then told me-
You know those 3000 year old trees down there are very knowledgeable. I was surprised with how up to date they are, and they have a great sense of humor! Ever had a tree tell you a joke? Critter told Garth… No, but he was dying to hear it.

Garth said-

Why did the punk rocker cross the road?
Because he had a chicken stapled to his head!

I roared in laughter, a laughter so big it rolled through the meadows. 

-K.K. Powell

Hightail

Definition of Hightail

Definition: to move at full speed or rapidly often in making a retreat —usually used with it <hightailed it out of there>.

Origin of Hightail Word Origin and History for hightail

v.

also hightail “move quickly,” attested by 1890, U.S. slang from cattle ranches (animals fleeing with elevated tails); from high(adj.) + tail(n.).Related: Hightailed ; hightailing.

 

Yesterday I sat on my porch to watch the sun set. Across the street is a big white victorian house. The man who lives there kept throwing water unto the right side of his porch. Then with much haste he would slam the door. His orange tabby on the left side of the porch ran from his food dish to the sidewalk, later to return to enjoy his meal. The orange tabby looked perplexed. My dog growled from the safe distance of our porch. I still didn’t quite understand what was happening here. He threw another bucket of water unto the porch two more times. The orange tabby ran away to the sidewalk, and slowly crept up the three steps back to his dish of kibble. A few seconds had passed. The orange tabby paid no interest in anything but the fear of getting dowsed in water, and in enjoying his dinner. Just when it was safe, a skunk made a run for it. From the right side of the porch he ran down the three steps, and hightailed it out of there! Literally his tail as high as it could go, and his feet as fast as they could move.After seeing this skunk, I am do wonder if this tiny, cute, and sometimes stinky creature had a part in creating this word. They do not apparently always hightail it in fear, but also in play.

Here is a little baby skunk exploring his world.