TarotsmithTarotsmithdivination

Author: Ash

Butterfly Story

Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel? I asked the question a thousand times but being children of a lesser god comes at a price. We are after all, little more than gilded… jaded… wounded bugs. One night to live an entire lifetime… One night to have your wings crushed like powdered paper in the hands of a careless child. Really, really though… Who would want to break a butterfly upon a wheel? The beast was here all...

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Wistful

“I will not let anyone walk through my mind with dirty feet.” – Gandhi … To be fair tho, most people aren’t aware they’re hauling mud and hurling crud by the things they say and do. Thoughtlessness is about as attractive as ignorance, after all. It is any surprise the ones who are able to see right through the pretentious masquerades find it predictable… hypocritical… and well… utterly boring. “Is that why I find most people boring?” I asked my muse this morning. He shook his head.., “You find them boring coz you are mad,” he replied. This picture reminds me of the 8 of Cups yet the loss is akin to walking away from a Black Mamba. You won’t end up having to suck their venom off your life force afterwards.” Sometimes wistful wishes go unanswered.. Or maybe its just kept in a Pandora’s Box along with hope till the time is right to set it free. The beast was here all...

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Lyrics by Billy

Dangling my feet over the cliff, its a 10,000 feet drop but my wings were burned away when I crashed into Earth. “Why are we here?, “I asked my muse, “you know I’m afraid of heights…” “You were promised more than the garden of Eden but you were carelessly cut and left to bleed..” he answered, “This darkness looming before us, it can ruin your faith with casual lies and it only reveals what it wants you to see but the most it can do is throw shadows at us.” “Kinda like the mask I wear to hide my face… It only reveals what I want you to see?” I replied…, “because you can’t see me if you see only the doppelganger pretender who fits your profile of who you want me to be but the most I can do is throw shadows at you?” He laughed.. Exactly!!! But I can do more than throw shadows, mate.. I can create whole worlds with the power of the word.. and I can destroy whole worlds with the power of will.. Yet I will do neither because I prefer to walk along the edges of reality and imagination… Drawing the thin red line between the two. The beast was here all...

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Faith

“If I placed a golden coin for every time this heart gets shattered… There will be enough gold to feed the world,” I told my muse. He looked at me and smiled a secret smile. “When I created your kind and you disowned me, there was a moment when I too, thought the same.” he said… “But I came to realise that your faithlessness was because you are children of a lesser god… And then I abandoned you to your fate and couldn’t care less. You should try that remedy sometimes. Worked wonders for me!!” I stared at him in disbelief… Was that supposed to make me feel better??? The beast was here all...

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Jezebel

Smoking in the rain, under a huge umbrella, catching up with old friends though I have no clue who they are!! None of their faces I recall… So I am wondering what am I doing here? Fast-forward… I found myself in a house watching the people in it move like puppets on strings.. Ooohhh… I get it!! Its a marionette show. In a room, I watched the shadows stretch till the parody of a travesty played itself out to its tragic end… Turned around and saw others watching the same show through a broken window pane… ran up to them, beating at the window frantically asking them to let me out… But they skittered away like skittish mice while the puppets behind me laughed and then I realized its just another dream the boogieman planted in my head.. Oh ye faithless chicken shit!! You brought me to The Harlot’s House!! My muse giggled like a little girl, madness ringing like silent bells and sang this song about Jezebel THE HARLOT’S HOUSE by: Oscar Wilde We caught the tread of dancing feet, We loitered down the moonlit street, And stopped beneath the harlot’s house. Inside, above the din and fray, We heard the loud musicians play, The “Treues Liebes Herz” of Strauss. Like strange mechanical grotesques, Making fantastic arabesques, The shadows raced across the blind. We watched the ghostly dancers...

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