The Angels surround me
In you
In me
All around us
Benevolent spirits
We channel them
Are them
Came from them and will go back to them
We came here to meet again
In this special place
Sacred
To celebrate life
Ourselves
Sexuality
Heal each other with our stories from our hearts
Allowing our beautiful souls to shine through our past traumas
As they are erased
We are reborn
Like the earth is reborn each spring
Getting back into tune with nature
Such a beautiful thing
By night, by day, fifty shades of gay
The beige, the pink, the queer, the fae
A fandango of faeries with lavendar farts
Medicine to heal and mend broken hearts
Improvised singing, heartbeats and drums
Heart circles, meditation, yoga, numb bums
Tinsel curtains and fires, rivers, rocks and trees
Banquets and sunrise, hot baths, dirty knees.
Ten days an oasis, a whisper, a cuddle
Warm by the fire, from the outside we huddle
Battling demons, clutching mugs of steaming tea
Evolve, Emerge, with wings we’re set free.
Honouring sexuality as a sacred force of nature.
Revealing love as divine presence, infinite, abundant and meant for everyone.
Uniting the worlds of spirit and matter, expressed in art, in dance, in rhythm, in drag, expressed in ecstatic flow and in majestic stillness.
Featherstone.
Fires on the water. Deep peace and deep release.
Flames igniting in hearts. Butterfly wings outstretched.
A new season begins
a new circle forms
a tribal confluence
of butterfly souls
Fragile and fresh
at winter’s end
transitioning into the light of March
into Spring air, Aries fire
lifting us out of the inner realms
sharing our dreams and desires
we rediscover our Selves
The land gradually warming
cold castle stone slowly heats in the sun
Love in us awakening
Spring’s call to grow, to know, to fun
The faerie within calls us back to nature
to play, to laugh and dance
to birth the shamanic tribe of lovers
born to serve the divine romance
Transformers, Heart Warriors, Shamans and Scouts
the Healing Tribe is Coming Out
Faeries, Fools, Mollies and Mavericks
shaking off the darkness that makes people sick
Lightbearers, Explorers, Conduits of Spirit
renewing our contract with Life, Love and Magic
finding our Butterfly Wings
We breathe colour here,
while the world turns
and waits and burns,
sprites collect in circles.
Howling at the clouds,
we sit with the quiet trees,
the roots around our feet,
kissing palms to a full moon.
In the mushroom patch,
we open the space to begin,
with a drum beat growling
while faeries fuck in flames.
Let our invisible fire cross
every fold of a map
let the grey sky crack
as we twirl in beautiful mess.
Touch us love us here,
while the world turns
and waits and burns,
tell how you found us.
Tell how you found the faeries.
The power of faerie love,
Its energy fills me.
Charged with its light,
Charged with the gift of its magic,
I am an overflowing vessel of love.
The medicine of faerie love,
Its potency awes me.
Healed by its properties,
Healed with the potion of ancients,
I am healing with my heart.
The wimsy of faerie love,
Its freedom thrills me.
Warmed by its silliness,
Warmed by its total abandonment,
I am laughing with my heart.
The possibilities of faerie love,
Its waymarkers lead me.
Encouraged by its teachings,
Encouraged by realising my own potential,
I am journeying with its love.
The power of faerie love –
Energy, magic, humour and hope.
Enriched by these elements,
Enriched by the faerie gifts to me,
I am filled with the power to heal
And the chance to be truly free.
For every stick and stone
That was thrown
To break my bones,
I have used to build my tower
The one in which I stand
Free, Wild and Proud.
For I am not weak
Not any more
No longer can you cause me hurt
For I have wings and I shall soar.
For I am Fae, I am beyond your understanding
A body, a spirit, a soul
A warrior, a queer, a man
No longer under your control.
You tried to bury me
But I got up from the ground
Stronger than I ever was
While never making a sound.
For my gifts are great
I feel to my core
I feel the Earth below me
And then I feel some more.
You didn’t destroy me, even with all your intent
You made me more powerful, and that wasn’t what you meant.
For I am Fae
And that is all I need
You have failed
And I will succeed.
For every stick and stone
That was thrown
To break my bones
I have used to build my tower
The one in which I stand
Free, Wild and Proud.
Is it love that warms
the air with laughter?
Greets farm mud in high
heels?
Softens solitary variations
into heart-sung union?
There is darkness
And it is moist, juicy with
seeds
Roaring
and wild
And the dray horse
up against his gate
smells joy
and remembers
hooves un-commanded
over hills
that never had to end
There is fear
every one of us feels it
for the urge of the drums
carries us to the edge
closer
than ever before
Blood roaring and wild
air roaring
and wild
Will we fall or fly?
She laughs, laughs
And it resounds
through cunt and cock
This is us
Circle of cunt and cock
and heart
full as the moon
One heart
One tribe
Rising
Qweaver, with love to fae kin
who shared Imbolc at the farm 2016
I will not be shamed
I will not be ashamed
Shame has no refuge in my soul
No dark corner to harbor
To embed and unravel into my beautiful life.
I am animal
I am spirit
I am queer
I am gay
I fuck men
I fancy twinks
I love rimming
Cuddle me
Hold me
I am not ashamed.
Stick your homophobia in a primark bag
Re-cycle it
Re-use it
Lose it
I don’t give a shit
It’s your shame. You carry it home.
My sex mirrors you, triggers you, brings fear up in you
Follow my lead
Ditch your shame too.
Come take your freedom back
Birth it
Love it
Let it ooze all juicy and sap rising
Full of surprising
Spontaneous, liberating, fuck you all
It’s my one shot on earth and let your shame ridden hatred fall
Fall
Fall.
Breathe.
Blessings on your heart walk,
Woodie Wood Pigeon X
I’ve been waiting. Waiting for that warm glow on the fingertips.
An aural envelope that sings over the skin; a sign for writing.
Scribing the now-myth (legend?) of the paddington farm solstice, the weaving of a new albion potential – is daunting.
Should I talk about my tribe of warriors? Facing down a queer burden of shame with exhilarating, fierce-piercing love.
Like hot knives through a butter of bullshit, a searing arc through the rank curse of revolving closets – each witnessed to dissolve like charred flesh in the unwinding of fire.
Taken in by trees that know it no different, and which hold you all the same.
I watched ghosts walk on in bodies that day. I’ll never forget it.
Should I talk about my tribe of two-spirits? Walkers on tightropes of imperceptible wavelengths, each wing-tip dipped in the crimson of other-dawns and the fine-centring-focus of the minds that know – and played the solstice in.
How the fire burns and holds – so beautiful you want to fuck it. The surging within, reflected in flame.
It licks at corners of the unseen unfolding of a boiling-spirit, that animates us each according to our own, but each according to its calling; cackling for its chaos, fucking for ecstasy, embracing in joyful-love – beating drums like a calling, the spirit is home.
Should I talk about my tribe of lovers? Fearless in their heart-space, bold in their sharing – an antidote to the plague of “not enough”.
Dancers on the margins, eros on the fringe; eyes like opals in greeting – even in the stillness, at rest, circles twist behind the eyelids and it plays.
Rendering possession meaningless with a fluid love, spontaneous.
A reciprocal gift, untapered, without boundary.
A weaving of tendrils so potent, so unshakeable – we were all touched. And continue to be.
Should I talk about the future? About how I saw it – each beat of that drum that I never played, at the intersection of each vibration, its poetic-geometry opening to me, opening like the simple gesture of a flower, opening to the sun.
Each beat, each snarl, each moan – each glide of skin, each pulse of cock; each and every moment in gaze of bewilderment – held in the bowl of its spectacular crown.
We played with it. It played through us. We were perfect. We will be more.
