Art and the philosophy of life

Archive for the ‘magic/magick’ Category

Magic, Neon…a short story.

“Where are you going?” he asked, stepping from behind the counter.

“I’m going in here, where the magic happens,” she said, reaching for the doorknob.  “Where does it look like I’m going?”

“You can’t go in there, it’s for employees only.”

“No it’s not.  There’s no sign that says it for employees only.”

“Well, it is.”

“You just made that up.”

“Did not,” he said.

“Did too.”

“You won’t like it in there.”

“How do you know.  If there’s magic in there I want to see it, or be part of it.”

“No you don’t.”

“Stop telling me what I want to do, or what I will like.  I bought a ticket and…”

“You bought a ticket into the bar, not into that room.”

“I want to speak to the manager.”

“I’m the manager,” he said, standing straighter.

“No you’re not.  You’re too young to be the manager.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “I’m…preconscious.”

“Oh, give me a break,” she sighed. “I’m going in.”

She turned the handle, jiggled it, leaned into it, but the door wouldn’t open.

“It’s locked.  Open it!” she demanded.


“What kind of magic is in there?”

“You wouldn’t recognize it.”

“How do you know what I would recognize?” she asked, her hands on her hips.

“It’s new.  Anyway, the magic happens in the bar.”

“No it doesn’t, there’s just a bunch of people in there getting drunk and looking for anyone who will make them feel better about themselves.”

That’s the magic,” he said softly.


“The magic happens when people meet other people who make them feel okay.  The okay part is the magic.”

“That’s not magic, that’s alcohol, dark lightening and music.”

“All of those things are magic,” he said.

“That’s not new magic, then, it’s old magic,” she said.  “People have been using those things since forever.”

“I know, but they still work.”

She leaned against the door.  “What’s really behind this door?”

“It’s a store room.  We keep the extra napkins, glasses and things in there.”


“Sorry to disappoint you.”

She nodded.  “Me too.”

“Did you really think there was magic in there?” he asked.

“I guess I was hoping there was.”

“So you believe in magic?”

“I do,” she said, making a frog appear on her palm.  “Don’t you?”

“How’d you do that?” he asked.

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” she said.  “Even if you use false advertising.”

“It’s not false, it’s true.  Just not the way you expected it to be.”

“You can keep the frog,” she said, walking away.  “He used to be my old boyfriend.  His name is Gregory, but you can call him anything you like.”

He watched her leave, then turned to the frog.


“What,” said the frog.




You don’t have to believe in magic for it to exist…words

Free Tranquil woman with glittering stylish makeup holding bunch of delicate roses on black background Stock Photo

we are magic
but because we currently
reside on earth
out ability to use it
is hampered
by the environment
it takes a lot of practice
to wake and sustain
out abilities
but never
that it


Photo:  Maria Eduarda Loura Maglhães

Girls are magic…a poem

toddler girl wearing teal and white polka-dot long-sleeved shirt and white tutu skirt outfit walking on green sod at daytime

girls know they’re magic
from their very first breath
is something that society
takes from them
lies to them about
makes sure they don’t
believe in themselves
or their magic
so they bury it
but it’s always there
telling them something
is missing
telling them
that their heart
is only half alive
but now
it’s time
to get in touch with that
part of themselves
and fight
the bloody hell
it’s too late


Photo:  Majorie Betrand

Borders…a story poem

forest covered in fog

the world of the Others
looks enticing
but those
can sometimes
be traps
to lure you in
where Fairies
and Elves
Brownies and
Nightmares live
waiting for foolish humans
to ignore their desire
to RUN
but instead
step over the logs
that are the border
between one world
and another


Photo:  Dave Hoefler

Magic…a poem.

the magic’s
all around us
but you can only see it
if you look
for it
with eyes
wide open
then the colors
and ley lines
present themselves
if you don’t believe
everything you see
will simply
turn into
a comic book
with heroes


Photo:  Mathias Borre

The magical bridge to YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE…a story poe

Brown Wooden Bridge in the Forest

the wind
sang to her
she listened
it told her of
beautiful things
of red and gold
birds with blue
tipped in
pure silver
of lushness
beyond belief
all of her dreams
could come true
if she just crossed
the bridge

what’s the catch
she asked
there’s ALWAYS
a catch

I probably can’t leave
once I’m there
like Shangri-La

the wind
rustled the leave
on the trees
and sent butterflies
to flutter around her
then it said
like Shangri-La
you can never leave

have a nice day
she said

as she turned
and went back
down the path

it’s really nice there
called the wind
but all he heard
was her laughter



Photo:  Tolga Ahmtler


A place of Magic…

Girl Sitting on Library Floor Reading a Book 

All cats have magic inside of them…it’s what they are…a poem.

Cat, Heart, Light, Dream, Love, Kitten

I love my little kitty
she’s black and oh so white
she lets me pet and play with her
each day
and every night
her eyes shine just like jewels
her face
a work of art
but more than all her beauty
is the love
within her heart


Photo:  Pixabay

Magic man…a very short story

He never made a fuss.  He simply pulled up a chair and started to play.  He sang softly, words of truth and awakening, words of valor and friendship, words of smoke and mirrors, peace and harmony.

As he sang, the people around him began to changed.  Their shoulders dropped, the tension in their faces disappeared, and their eyes lost their look of fear. They seemed lighter, younger, more at peace.

Once the spell had been cast, he got up and walked away..

No one in the crowd would remember him. You see, most people don’t believe in magic…even when it’s right in front of them.


Photo:  Hamid Tajik


Home…a poem

brown wooden house in the middle of green trees

she built her home
out of magic
the walls
were formed from
bits of poetry
random words
torn memories
and pages
from her favorite books
and chocolate
made up the ceiling
and yes
there were
shreds of rage
and revenge
moments of
and despair
that sometimes
littered the floor
but the cats
and trees
brushed those things aside
covering her nest
with beautiful leaves
and soft contented


Photo:  Mikaela Stenström

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