This is merely everything as I have lived it. Perhaps you have lived everything differently.
My book: a Darkness Clinging, is borne from this reality I breathe every moment…
One cannot simply buy as an offering, a bottle of whiskey, the finest Cuban cigar, a doves heart, the blood of the freshly deceased…or the body and spirit of another animal/human life for a sacrifice to aid in a magikal endeavor.
These are simply not yours to give. You cannot offer a sacrifice to any worshiped deity, or for any understanding of magic, or to another corporeal being, if it does not belong to you.
You can only offer that which is a true sacrifice ripped from your own body, mind, and spirit.
You can only sacrifice your own heart, sanity, and life.
Nothing true and enduring can ever be created without the sacrifice of self…in one form or another.
Buy all the abracadabra you desire. It will never evolve you or bring your truest and most hidden desires to fruition.
You must already be that which needs to be offered up. Only then will the veil begin to open. Only then.
This I do know.
~Julia-Anne Crow (DarkRose)
Please visit me at my new blog site. I am running The DarkRose Journal/Blood Bone & Feather/ and Satanic Panties (my individual artist endeavors), from this new blog.
Thank you, kindly.
~Julia DarkRose Crow
By Julia-Anne Crow 2019
Each spot of my honeyed body is a crucible of unseen torment, the tombstone of some perished kiss. Withal its beauty and its faultless grace, my body, my mind, my heart, is a haunted place.
Clouded by tears, shredded by wind, ragged from their lies; ravaged by night, abandoned by day, those shadows within the gray; therein resides my house of flesh.
My mind has broken. My bone has cracked. My blood has clot. My heart has stopped. My flesh has rot.
I sleep the sleep of gray, where the gold and purple of living fall away. Here I lie beside the bustling of life, past pain or joy, desire or fear. I am the seeing, filled with life, dying of death. Shrouded in weeds, buried in sour soil. Silent I wait. There is no healing
where I decay. Nothing is sound. Everything an unheard scream. Silent, I wait. Waiting still, inside my house of flesh.
I must choose…sleep or madness. I go now to sleep that gray and soundless sleep. My shattered marrow becoming the silent nothing, the deafening darkness, the cold, oh so very cold emptiness. Warmed only by my pathetic native fire, that lean and flickering flame, lit upon my mortal hearth to comfort me in Autumn’s decay. For it may warm, if not the spirit or the heart, maybe, perhaps, at least my chilled bones yet awhile.
I ponder the thoughts of the dark dreaming. Are these not the words of some shadowed and cowardly devil flickering from within my living dust? Would it not be better to go mad and rave, to court the fair illusion of a greater fire? Or would it be more worthy of a life lived fully to let that gray and suffocating dust fill my lungs and bring my breaths to a crawl?
Coiled inside my empty belly, my serpent’s fiery tongue licks these cold, tired lips, and reveals this truth to me…
Death is death and even madness should soon play me false. Better to sleep, better to close the curtains tight against the treacherous laughter of the Light, and sleep with yet a little fire on the hearth. Then when the last torrid tongue flickers and is gone, the lucky sleeper knows it not.
I whisper inside my own ear, “Go now fair lady and sleep.”
My birth, my youth, my prime, my proud excess, my cosmic fall; it has become my mean prize of poverty and dull decline. My lean possessions now shrunk to fill a little box. All my senses, my delights, turned pale and leached of taste. All have ended, I am all that’s left to fill the silences between the ticks of time. I, my dearest, foolish self, becoming bloodless, reduced to a scentless draught that rusts my heart into a ticking clock.
So, now I sleep with the end, the Gray. Though blood and flesh not be shed, I have found the spire built from my haunted despair. My mirror of madness reflects only my dark perfection. For now and tomorrow and ever.
I am my own wolf sun, now colder than ice. No longer dancing in that musical moonlight. No longer graced with my human darkness clinging. That distant ruby-silver glow, fading from my sight, covering myself with dust, sleeping the sleep of the gray, forever cherished by the loyal and loving night.
Fuck. Really? I can’t even contemplate life’s inevitable regurgitating bullshit without analyzing it inside my head like some drunken, goth-like, poet. I mean, for fuck’s sake. Grow up buttercup.
I don’t give any real fucks about your politics, religion, gender, sexuality, racial ignorance, self-pity, or ego…
How do you love? How do you and how will you, treat every creature upon this Earth?
Everything else is human waste, regurgitation, poison, and needless suffering for all.
I love myself because I tell myself so…I embrace the deathly sharp blade of “Why the fuck are we even here!?” existence because it actually makes a difference.
Love baby, love. Bleed it out of your pores and soak the soil!
~Julia-Anne Crow (DarkRose) 1/13/2019
You keep using that word (safe)…
I don’t think it means what you think it means!
“How isn’t it safe? It’s safer than attending public school in America. It’s safer than unprotected sex. It’s safer than having an online relationship. It’s safer than eating USDA packaged meats. It’s safer than exposing the truth through your own life experiences and risking bullying on Social Media. Exactly how is it safer to not drink blood from human beings, who want to be vessels for me to drink their blood? With a simple slice through their flesh, both parties are happy. How is it not safe? I have never hurt anyone in the 30+ years I have been accepting their gift of life into my body.”
~Julia DarkRose Caples
This is my reply to a comment in a group that posted one of hundreds of media venues that exploited my life story…and show, graphically, how I slice into another human being’s flesh so that I may drink their flowing blood…this member of the group wrote this comment in response to the video in which I am showing the world how i have always accepted the precious gift of life that has always been offered to me…to me, not to the person writing this comment:
“But it isn’t safe way to drink blood…thank goodness we come far in that…”
Thank you, kindly, for your attention.
~Julia DarkRose Caples
Just Stop the Madness!
“Not every human creature upon our earth is beautiful, unique, and/or priceless. Please stop spreading the empty sentiments. Some people are priceless, unique, and beautiful. Many more, so it seems, are not. Lying to yourselves and the rest of the world is just laziness on your part. It’s easier (currently) to believe empty, unproven sentiment than it is to put the hard work into becoming unique, beautiful (in all its incarnations), priceless, and your own truest person.
Go ahead, I dare you to spread the actual truth instead of the accepted false verity that abounds. Oh my, how unpopular you will become. I should know!!! Lol. The hard truths are quite difficult (that’s an understatement) for Mankind to incorporate into their self-evolution or lack thereof.
~Julia DarkRose Caples
Copyright 2018, “A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies”
**All Photographs were taken by Julia DarkRose Caples, and are copyrighted. Thank you.**
I am grateful to be able to have tangible reminders of where I came from, what I help create, and all the actual blood, sweat, and tears. The twists, curls, curves, rambles, and wandering within every step of my way.
I am also grateful to have the wisdom to know when it is time to embrace the new day. Time to transform and to take my blood, sweat and tears, boldly into a new world. The world that I am now able to see and find beauty and worth in, out, under, over, and through. Besutu and worth pulsating inside its every cell.
And that is that. It is what it is. Nature is fucking phenomena chaos and I will never waste it on NOT transcending, moving forward, and learning to embrace every stage that Life in all Her unknowable (at this time) intelligence hath created.
Here are some pics, not even a sliver of what I did and where I came from, representing that once dazzling ruby river…now a dried, cracked, unable to support life, empty bed filled with tourists.
~Julia DarkRose Caples
Someone was just asking me about my early days as a Wytch. This discussion brought back up, in my mind, my days and nights, of magik, in my early twenties. What I remember the most about that long ago time of learning and applying and changing, is sacrifice. And so, we discussed it’s true meaning and application within the real world.
While I now live in a state of being that I understand as a life lived indigenously borne from the same magik that is my mind, body, and energy, as all life; and not as a life lived practicing magik, my comprehension of what sacrifice, especially as it relates to conjuring or ritual or whatever label you deem appropriate for your path and focus; is more often than not, completely misunderstood and not actually achieved. (I know that’s a whopper of a run on sentence. 😏)
While I no longer, for sometime now, perceive magik as something to be practiced or conjured or ritualized, I understand that almost all of us start there. Some of us never move past that infant-like understanding of magik. A good place to start your personal transcendence from the habitual parroting of other conceptions of what they may or may not have actually achieved; is to look more closely at and figure out, for yourself, what a real sacrifice consists of.
Maybe, one day, before your current life extinguishes from this Earth, you will move on from mimicking and/or practicing magik and realize, in the rawness of your truest core, that you are already born magik and that there is not really a need to conjure or execute “magik.”
Just be it, just know it. The same way you just know you are a Human (no matter what kind of human you believe you are). You know it with every breath you breathe. So, too, you should know you are magik…with every breath you breathe.
“I don’t need no stinkin’ altar! I am the altar!”
~Julia DarkRose 2015
~Julia DarkRose Caples