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christibrany
(@christibrany)
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Joined: 10 years ago
Posts: 2026
29/04/2015 1:38 am  

People dont muck around enough in here. so i am going to post a poem I wrote and i would like someone to do the same. Thats fun isn't it?
POEM:

black and white shadows
causing me to cry again
tears of soot
on my ashen lap
while the camera rolls
the reel runs out
a flickering sound
of the emboldened flap
of skin on skin
and i wait for
resolution
i want the chairs to fold
lets all go home
but no one knows
whats happening now
that the film has run out
and we are all waiting
stark in the dark
for nothing

but maybe the sun will
finally rise
=========

😉
NEXT


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elitemachinery
(@elitemachinery)
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Posts: 408
29/04/2015 3:01 am  

"A Relentless Obit"

An anagram poem by Michael Tierney

Bret Easton Ellis
Liberates stolen
Intolerable sets

Seaborne littles
Obeisant tellers
Sterile notables
Obstinate seller

A rebellions test!
Belittle a sensor..

Absentee I stroll
Loner tale is best
Beastliest loner
Toil enables rest

Reliable stetson
Rebel loins taste
Is role absent? Let!

A relentless obit


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Yeheshuah
(@yeheshuah)
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Posts: 92
29/04/2015 3:29 am  

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law!

retellity tells me that I am in business
I am more than the sum of my parts
Pärt’s Magnificat
sung softly at the crack of a gun
I spin the globe to see where to dream of next
and I dream of Djelfa
my heart in a bloody turban is no longer beating
………
I once sailed the Mediterranean, stopped at Palma, away from Sicily, and ate lychees from the Pacific that tasted of honey and salt.  No longer a member of the secret order, I will live love in the open. 
Long, long ago I was a master.  Now I am a janitor. One must read the label of the bleach to appreciate its power.
So what I am getting at is that reincarnation is not the survival of the soul but the memory of my experience in another.

Love is the law, love under will.


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christibrany
(@christibrany)
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Posts: 2026
30/04/2015 1:53 am  

i liked yours 'joshuha' it made me feel like i was travelling. but the anagram one before you was just not my thing.
i want to read more. please people contribute. 🙂
i know that people that like crowley write poems. and im not shy to share mine. but i want to read other peoples stuff.
🙂 lets see what happens.
🙂


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christibrany
(@christibrany)
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Posts: 2026
16/05/2015 8:17 pm  

no one cares about poetry these days. well i wrote a depressing one the other day. thanks to the band meshuggah. which i quite like .i love metal music.

falling down the cavity of undoing
the unseen hosts swarm
feasting on confusion
an endless fall
into an unreachable bosom of unending night
a constant picking at the flesh of ones soul
one feels nothing but remorse regret and redress
at ones inability to correct..
it is just a falling
unto the centre of the cosmos.
the ultimate black hole
I am only sweat and blood
I see only fire and death
I cause only pain.
i am the ochre dripping at midnight


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Los
 Los
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Posts: 2197
17/05/2015 5:50 pm  

Chris, your poem reminded me of this:

Th' infernal Serpent; he it was, whose guile
Stird up with Envy and Revenge, deceiv'd
The Mother of Mankind, what time his Pride
Had cast him out from Heav'n, with all his Host
Of Rebel Angels, by whose aid aspiring
To set himself in Glory above his Peers,
He trusted to have equal'd the most High,
If he oppos'd; and with ambitious aim
Against the Throne and Monarchy of God
Rais'd impious War in Heav'n and Battel proud
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Hurld headlong flaming from th' Ethereal Skie
With hideous ruine and combustion down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In Adamantine Chains and penal Fire,
Who durst defie th' Omnipotent to Arms.
Nine times the Space that measures Day and Night
To mortal men, he with his horrid crew
Lay vanquisht, rowling in the fiery Gulfe
Confounded though immortal: But his doom
Reserv'd him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes
That witness'd huge affliction and dismay
Mixt with obdurate pride and stedfast hate:
At once as far as Angels kenn he views
The dismal Situation waste and wilde,
A Dungeon horrible, on all sides round
As one great Furnace flam'd, yet from those flames
No light, but rather darkness visible
Serv'd onely to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all; but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery Deluge, fed
With ever-burning Sulphur unconsum'd:
Such place Eternal Justice had prepar'd
For those rebellious, here thir Prison ordain'd
In utter darkness, and thir portion set
As far remov'd from God and light of Heav'n
As from the Center thrice to th' utmost Pole.
O how unlike the place from whence they fell!
There the companions of his fall, o'rewhelm'd
With Floods and Whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
He soon discerns, and weltring by his side
One next himself in power, and next in crime,
Long after known in Palestine, and nam'd
Beelzebub.
--Milton, Paradise Lost


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lashtal
(@lashtal)
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Joined: 16 years ago
Posts: 5308
17/05/2015 6:46 pm  
"Los" wrote:
Th' infernal Serpent; he it was, whose guile
Stird up with Envy and Revenge, deceiv'd
The Mother of Mankind, what time his Pride
Had cast him out from Heav'n, with all his Host
Of Rebel Angels, by whose aid aspiring
To set himself in Glory above his Peers,
He trusted to have equal'd the most High,
If he oppos'd; and with ambitious aim
Against the Throne and Monarchy of God
Rais'd impious War in Heav'n and Battel proud
With vain attempt...
--Milton, Paradise Lost

Thanks for reminding me, Los, of the extraordinary beauty of that work. The Folio Society's current list has a spectacular edition.

Owner and Editor
LAShTAL


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Los
 Los
(@los)
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Posts: 2197
17/05/2015 9:45 pm  
"lashtal" wrote:
"Los" wrote:
Th' infernal Serpent; he it was, whose guile
Stird up with Envy and Revenge, deceiv'd
The Mother of Mankind, what time his Pride
Had cast him out from Heav'n, with all his Host
Of Rebel Angels, by whose aid aspiring
To set himself in Glory above his Peers,
He trusted to have equal'd the most High,
If he oppos'd; and with ambitious aim
Against the Throne and Monarchy of God
Rais'd impious War in Heav'n and Battel proud
With vain attempt...
--Milton, Paradise Lost

Thanks for reminding me, Los, of the extraordinary beauty of that work. The Folio Society's current list has a spectacular edition.

You're most welcome. It's truly a moving and powerful poem.


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SPHINX
(@sphinx)
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Posts: 64
26/05/2015 1:01 am  

Hello ‘Poet’s Corner’,
Here’s one ONLY for the ladies out there watching in silence
longing that this sort of thing could happen for them
because this sort of thing does happen, with me.

Saint Valentine’s Day
Saturday 14th February 2015.

Darling Miss Regina
Our Luscious Lunar Empress
Following the Martyrdom of the Christian Bishop Valentinus by the Roman Emperor Claudius in 270 A.D.
(for marrying lovers without His permission) the annual Roman Festival ‘LUPERCALIA’ – to honour Mars and the Wolf (lupus) on 14th February – was rededicated to Valentine’s memory.
So, now, I scribe my ‘love token’ to you from that ancient Festival and time on Roma’s Palatine Hill.

But firstly a foreword:
Hail to you beloved Regina, clothed in vines and wet with the foaming fresh wine of Rome!
My imagination is a land filled with spirits – wild woods of nubile nymphs and gaily indecent satyrs.
All natural, not terrible, just pagan.
Beyond me are the Great Old Gods upon whose Altars we give sacrificial devotion to gain goodwill, thus Their Powers for ourselves!
I witness us together sweet Regina, at worship, hid deep in a sacred Etruscan magical grove before lusty Pan and his lively consort Vesta with incense, incantations and liquid philtres for heroic LOVE!

Written on purest virgin sheepskin parchment in the Annals of Rome your thrice-holy Title ‘Regina Empress La Luna’ invokes above all – perfect beauty, feminine power, artistry and occult wisdom surpassing all earthly understanding. Beholding your delft-blue gaze hard strong men swoon.
For me, having your firm friendship is thrillingly joyous and I’m giddy to feel Regina does like me.
Oh, by the glory of Jupiter’s Wand she is loved!

Always I am wanting, like our fellow Roman poets Virgil and Ovid, to discover the true ‘virtue’ of Nature. Finding out how heavenly Events – movement of the Sun, Moon and Planets against the stars – influence ‘Sub lunar’ or our earthly Events. Thus such reasoning indicated that as my ‘Empress of the Silver Sphere’ your elegant, regal serenity places your royal Reign supreme in my heart.
The Imperial Eagle of our Roman Republic conquers all the known lands of the World, but I your devout love-drunken servant splashed with the red juice of ripe vines rejects Caesar, recognizing only the authority of and rejoicing in the affection gifted to me by you my eternal Celestial Empress – Regina La Luna…
So, for now – ‘arrivederci et bella fortuna’ to you
Sealed this Day from the stylus of him – PAX Adeptus Hermeticus Mixie Chas K. xxx

                                              + LOVE TOKEN +
                                                          A
                                    QUINTET OF LOVE COUPLETS
                  1/
              You are Regina  :  luminous Moonstone of pearly loveliness….
              I, your Champion :  thunders about mad with covetousness!

                  2/
              You are Regina  :  stealthy Huntress collector of hearts….
              I, your Champion :  a tireless Warrior his cimitar afire!

                  3/
              You are Regina  :  the lissome love amid Pan’s mane….
              I, your Champion :  revels in frenzy shouting your name!

                  4/
              You are Regina  :  aloof unattainable distant desire….
              I, your Champion :  relentlessly treasures your hot memory!

                  5/
                You are Regina  :  mysterious La Luna made flesh before me….
                I, your Champion :  lusty great beast ever-questing for Thee!

                                                                                                                   
                   


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frater_anubis
(@frater_anubis)
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Joined: 14 years ago
Posts: 200
26/05/2015 11:11 am  

Ah ha - I recently found this fascinating olde alchymical poeme, handwritten on a sheet in an old book that I bought at a boot fair

"I Shew you here a short Conclusion,
To understand it if ye have grace,
Wrighten without any delusion;
Comprehended in a litle space.
All that is in this Booke wrighten is,
In the place comprehended is,
How Nature worketh in her kinde,
Keepe well this Lesson in your minde:
I have declared micle thing,
If you have grace to keepe in minde,
How that our Principle is One thing,
More in Number and One in kinde;
For there ben things Seven
That in a Principle doe dwell,
Most precious under Heven,
I have so sworne I may not tell.
In this Booke I shew to you in wrighting,
As my Brethren doe each one,
A similitude of every like thing,
Of which we make our Stone.
Our Stone is made of a simple thing,
That in him hath both Soule and Lyfe,
He is Two and One in kinde,
Married together as Man and Wife:
Our Sulphur is our Masculine,
Our Mercury is our Femenine,
Our Earth is our Water cleere;
Our Sulphur also is our Fier,
And as Earth is in our Water cleare,
Soe is Aer in or Fier.
Now have yee Elements foure of might,
And yet there appeareth but two in sight;
Water and Earth ye may well see,
Fier and Aer in them as quality:
Thys Scyence maie not be taught to every one,
He were acurst that so schould done:
How schould ye have Servants than?
Than non for other would ought done,
To tyl the Lande or drive the Plough,
For ever ech man would be proud enough;
Lerned and leude would put them in Presse,
And in their workes be full busie,
But yet thay have but little increse,
The writings to them is so misty.
It is full hard this Scyence to finde,
For Fooles which labour against kinde;
This Science I pray you to conceale,
Or else with it do not you meale,
For and ye canot in it prevaile,
Of much sorrow rhen may you tell:
By suddain mooving of Elements Nature may be letted,
And wher lacks Decoction no perfection may be,
For some Body with leprosy is infected;
Raw watery humors cause superfluity:
Therefore the Philosopher in his reason hath contrived
A perfect Medicine, for bodyes that be sick,
Of all infirmetyes to be releeved,
This heleth Nature and prolongeth lyfe eak;
This Medicine of Elements being perfectly wrought,
Receypts of the Potecary we neede not to buy,
Their Druggs and Dragms we set at nought,
With quid pro quo they make many aly.
Our Aurum potabile Nature will increase,
Of Philosophers Gold if it be perfectly wrought,
The Phisitians with Minerall pureth him in prese:
Litle it availeth or else right nought.
This Scyence shall ye finde in the old boke of Turb;
How perfectly this Medicine Philosophers have wrought,
Rosary with him also doth record,
More then four Elements we occupie nought;
Comune Mercury and Gold we none occupie,
Till we perfectly have made our Stone,
Then with them two our Medicine we Multiply,
Other recepts of the Potecary truly we have none.
A hundred Ounces of Saturne [Lead] ye may well take;
Seeth them on the fire and melt him in a mould,
A Projection with your Medicin upon hem make,
And anon yee shall alter him into fine Gold;
One Ounce upon a hundred Ounces is sufficient,
And so it is on a thousand Ounces perfectly wrought,
Without dissolucion and Subtillant;
Encreasing of our Medicine els have we nought.
Joy eternall and everlasting blisse,
Be to Almyghty God that never schal miss."

Blew me away!

Johnny

93 93/93


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frater_anubis
(@frater_anubis)
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Posts: 200
26/05/2015 11:12 am  

And thanks to christibrany for starting this excellent thread


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lashtal
(@lashtal)
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Posts: 5308
26/05/2015 8:02 pm  
"frater_anubis" wrote:
Ah ha - I recently found this fascinating olde alchymical poeme, handwritten on a sheet in an old book that I bought at a boot fair

"I Shew you here a short Conclusion,
To understand it if ye have grace,
Wrighten without any delusion..."

A quick Google search shows (or should that be 'shews'?) this to be a piece of anonymous English alchemical verse from Elias Ashmole's Theatrum Chemicum Britannicum, transcribed by Justin von Bujdoss.

Owner and Editor
LAShTAL


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Shiva
(@shiva)
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Joined: 12 years ago
Posts: 3523
26/05/2015 8:33 pm  

      The Rising Phoenix[/font:7f11qvld]

BEHOLD the Textbooks, Rising High,
    Piled to the Roof ;
See the Mystic: Detached, Alert,
    from the World aloof !

Wielding Dagger and the Disk,
    bearing Cup and Rod ;
Sitting in Silence, trying to risk
    the Subtleties of God !

The Lamp is Lit, the Circle Banished,
    the Mind held Steady Still.
The Angel called; the ego vanished ;
    and naught remained but Will !

She struck the Bell; He lit the Flame ;
    we uttered the Mysterious Name.
The Lord of Light heard our Plea,
    The Divine Plan was ours to see.

A Flash of Fire; a lingering Flame ;
    began the final round of the Game.
The Benu Phoenix stepped out in style,
    to conquer every fear and defile.

Now All is Gone; it is All Done ;
    there comes an end to All the Fun.
The Lofty Phoenix has burned this day,
    leaving soot and ashes from his play.

But From the Ashes in the Nest,
    the Bird rises up anew.
It is not me, nor of the Rest ;
    The Phoenix-Bird is YOU !

Rise up Bright Phoenix, and in rising,
    Spread your Paragon Wings ;
Break Forth in Song, and show us how,
    The Solar Angel sings !

For from the Flame, and from the Ash,
    and from the Light Above,
The Phoenix is no more than Man . . .
    raised on the Wings of Love !


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christibrany
(@christibrany)
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Joined: 10 years ago
Posts: 2026
28/05/2015 1:55 am  

I am glad we are all participating and I have loved all of our submissions truly 🙂
here is one from a few months ago i wrote:

black and white shadows
causing me to cry again
tears of soot
on my ashen lap
while the camera rolls
the reel runs out
a flickering sound
of the emboldened flap
of skin on skin
and i wait for
resolution
i want the chairs to fold
lets all go home
but no one knows
whats happening now
that the film has run out
and we are all waiting
stark in the dark
for nothing

but maybe the sun will
finally rise


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christibrany
(@christibrany)
Member
Joined: 10 years ago
Posts: 2026
22/06/2015 3:24 pm  

Here is a new one I am working on but it's not done yet.  It is probably going to be called

Belief:

The hidden bible of centipedes
Crawls under the skin
Scratching words no one can read.
As bodies dash themselves
Against the wall of Belief.
No respite flows from their veins.
The skin holds only barbs,
The inside only venom.
A tapestry of travesties,
A mosaic of lies.
What secrets lie,
Beneath the surface?


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SPHINX
(@sphinx)
Member
Joined: 9 years ago
Posts: 64
12/02/2016 2:41 am  

Creativity appears to have stalled here, so let’s spark things along with an example of my current pre-poetry prose, that I’m pleased to contribute.

+ Monday 8th February 2016 +

Darling Miss Regina,
My lovely Empress La Luna.
The year of the “Fire Monkey” has arrived!
Today is the glorious dawn of the Lunar New Year – celebrated by ancient Chinese wisdom.
So I offer auspicious Yi King Hexagram Greetings to Your Royal Highness.
The ‘Sign of the Monkey’ in our Oriental Zodiac overflows with nervous energy and keen enthusiasm.
Confident, bustling and boisterous in nature.
A year promising excitement like the wild freedom of the monkey.
The 11th Chinese Symbol is an animal of cheekiness and I pray the happy Fire Monkey entertains you as you steer your regal Lunar chariot throughout 2016.

So, in celebration of the New Year, I’ve included here a portrait of you on medium texture pure cotton canvas. Triple primed with chalk gesso and painted acrylic colour direct from the tube.
“Lady Regina van M.: Empress La Luna in the Forbidden City”
Naked as alabaster or ivory wearing only a rich cloak of our empire jade and gold thread. Clutching her phallus septre of creativity and being worshipped by a pair of rare mountain province Snow Monkeys.

I am overjoyed also to have here in my hands another long manuscript message from my Empress.
You truly are a beneficent mistress to waste time creating a very charming New Year Card for me.
This illustrated silk fabric with divine verses is a most precious delight, as my full intention is to have you express your artistic, creative inner self for me.
A sweet lemongrass scent snakes from an emerald green thurible upon my black-lacquer bureau as I compose these few reply words to you. Your delicate gifts given to me, with your tender written love-wishes, make my penmanship effortless.

The image on the front of this, my reply ‘Love Card’ depicts our beautiful ‘lover’s-lounge bower’ within a secret private Royal Garden located in the 7th Heaven. Here together, ch’i entwined, we repose hand in hand with gentle, peaceful calm – contemplative – of all matters expressive of our enduring affection. A perfect soul setting, ringed by cheerful river Dragons.

I adore your gorgeous gift to me, the ‘Dream Angel Brooch’ – solid silver crescent Moon with Sapphire Star – framing a winged, restive, robed figure garlands of flowers in her lustrous hair, Though the Angel’s face is turned aside I know she is you, Regina my true treasure. So safely held am I by this protective Angel at night that sweet dreams of our cherished companionship are mine…

Please do make swift your brush with ink to respond?
I also offer with my Card a ‘rope of silver’ for your slender wrist.
From Your Most Humble Temple Sentry:
Zwee-Ton-Yoo.

• LITTLE FIRE MONKEY SWINGS HIGH IN A TREE.
• HER MOTHER BATHES WARM IN A POOL, WE SEE.
• THE FATHER, SITTING ON ROCK, EATS A FLEA…
• HAPPY AS THIS – CAN WE EVER BE?


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Jamie J Barter
(@jamiejbarter)
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Joined: 4 years ago
Posts: 1091
12/02/2016 6:04 am  

You sure it was you who wrote this "poem", Sphinx - or was it Yoda?! 🙂

Norma N Joy Conquest


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SPHINX
(@sphinx)
Member
Joined: 9 years ago
Posts: 64
16/02/2016 12:20 am  

. + COSSACKS +

When we overdrink we may die, but
If we don't drink, still we can die.
So we may as well yell - "What the hell!"
Lifting full grog-horns high.
For we are the Cossacks -
Mighty Cossack Brotherhood.
We only do, whatever we should do.

We ride and we fight, spit and we screw.
Relentless in battle, our blood-bond is true.
From the steppe of Mother Russ we rush upon you.
To sweep away pale weakness and dance as we do.
Flights of arrows our welcome, you think us just knaves.
Your young women will bear us our babies as
Their yoked menfolk, become but our slaves.

Get out of our way, we rend and we slay.
For we are pure Cossack, can't keep us at bay.
Fight for our rights, right to be free.
Fight for freedom and justice,
Clash, kill, maim to be free.
With justice for all...?
HELL NO, there's JUST US!


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SPHINX
(@sphinx)
Member
Joined: 9 years ago
Posts: 64
19/02/2016 1:14 am  

. + WRITING POETRY +

I'm feeling confident, so let's get started -
"Here I sit, all broken hearted
Spent a penny, but only farted."
Oh no, that will never ever do!
"It was the best of times...
It was the blurst of times."
Damn it! That's even worse, boo hoo.

Good heavens why won't my thick brain
Ever do what it's not told to say?
Poetry, they all claim, is the soul's window
Into a personal fruitful subconscious plane.
Lord sake why then, should it seem such a pain?
My only 'plane' is a fruitless constant shame,
Here displayed for the world, to mock and disdain.

Hang on there, some of that just sort of rhymed.
So maybe I am a poet, just didn't know it.
Well what can I say, done it again, hooray!
That's a start for us all - doggerel will do.
Until I can train that wee mongrel,
To perform ... and show off for you.
(Then never again will I need to 'boo hoo')

P.S.

Loquaciousness for you will flow, sooner or later.
Just bother to start some thoughts on paper.
Aleister encourages you, to use a pencil and eraser.
In his tradition, this way sure, you will succeed!


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SPHINX
(@sphinx)
Member
Joined: 9 years ago
Posts: 64
23/02/2016 2:20 am  

. + BELIEF +

It's quite an odd beast we ride around all day :
"I believe this, but not that" is what we say.
For 300,000 generations, it's always been that way.
Since 'Lucy' first believed - "Stand up, over grass to see"
Every ghost behind each of us has always believed
This, that, the other, whatever up their sleeve -
Bars of our own prison through which we perceive?

Things that aren't me, need be judged we believe.
Basic self-preservation, just self interest it seems.
A weapon of choice which we use to attack,
Another's opinion we are certain is slack!
"Ideas are wrong if they're not mine" I chide.
Can't help ourselves can we - that slippery slide,
Of personal prejudice behind which we all hide.

I can see you there, hello, all separate and smart,
Clinging to ancestor 'Lucy', feeling sad and apart.
With our make believe notions, what else do we do?
Love certainly helps us, to share another's view too...
Closer to each other, that's no bad thing to be,
Then ancient hominid 'Lucy' will look upon us with glee!


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Markus
(@markus)
Member
Joined: 8 years ago
Posts: 254
23/02/2016 5:20 pm  

The following may not be intelligible to all, but as it's never been done before, here goes: This is Crowley's poem "The Eyes of Pharaoh" in German translation. I have done this only to prove that it is possible to create half-way decent translations of AC's works. My apologies to all who do not speak German (you may enjoy the original, which is better anyway). Enjoy!

Die Augen Pharaos

Tot Pharaos Augen glommen
Wie ein Zwiegestirn rubinrot
Aus dem Grab. Die Hallen frommen
Mumien und Schmerzen, die schon tot.

Schweigend streng der Pharao saß.
Kein Hauch wehte flüsternd noch schwach,
Nur der glühend schwälende Haß
Sich durch die Tempeltore brach.

Wie im Blute toter Tiere
Zitternd vorhersagt der Augur
Beben, Königstod und schiere
Hungersnot in des Schicksals Spur,

So gliß in Pharaos Gesicht
Verachtung, die noch drängte stets
Jeden im Tod verfluchten Wicht
Des verwunschnen Höllenherrn, Sets.

Traun! In den Feuerkugeln saß
Ein grausig Wissen eng gerollt
Wie Schlangen, die der Haß zerfraß,
So wie’s die Unterwelt gewollt.

Doch in der Augen Höllenglanz
Pharaos äschern Schädel glomm,
Wie Mondscheins weißer Strahlenkranz
Über Drusen im Libanon.

Durch Tempeltore ferner drang
Ein greulich schauerliches Lied,
Wie Rasselgalm zum Monde klang
Von Priestern, tanzend wild im Glied.

Und des Todes widriger Stank
Mit Fächern schlug den gift’gen Hauch,
Wie’n Dolch, der in die Mohrin sank
Und ihr das Kind entriß dem Bauch.

Auch toten Staub der Tempel barg,
Der alten Königin der Gruft;
Er wob sich durch das Dunkel arg,
Geweht von Geistern, Herrn der Luft.

Dann rührten auf den Leibern heiß
Händ’ und Lippen, die sich regten,
Und ihr faulicht gammlig Geschmeiß
Sie den Tänzern auferlegten.

So geschah dem Neophyten,
Der blickt’ in Pharaos Gesicht,
War in Eingeweihter Mitten,
Nun sein Grauen erlag der Pflicht.

Seinen Gedanken weit gedehnt,
In der Schlacht er siegend brannte,
Mit Kriegern und Weisen belehnt,
Er durch Grab und Tempel rannte.

Die Mannen zum Tod im Feuer
Zauberbrünste jetzt verdammen.
Die Glut lodert ungeheuer,
Und der Tempel steht in Flammen,

Wo tot Pharao grausam sitzt;
Und seiner Augen Gefunkel
Aus den Wickeln des Grabes glitzt,
Feuersternen gleich im Dunkel.

Bis alles brennt, Tod überall,
Und die flammende Lohe zischt;
Es tönt des freislich Namens Schall:
Das rote Zwiegestirn erlischt.

Markus


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SPHINX
(@sphinx)
Member
Joined: 9 years ago
Posts: 64
26/02/2016 12:03 am  

. + KITTEN +

Upon my lap she swiftly flies, eager to please.
At the drop-of-a hat she bounds, over my knees.
Her licks are delicious, with tongue curled just so -
She knows how to tease me, and boy how it shows.
The 'scratching pole' she calls it, see those claws rip!
I grip armchair and bear it, painful pleasure I sip,
As her blond pooky-tails bob, into dream I do slip...

Petite tiny toy, she's more than happy to be,
Round big blue eyes, in them reflected is me.
Adorned in red ribbons, not much else does she wear.
Those who meet her all say - "It's cruel and unfair",
(That a goddess like her is caught in my snare.)
Because they want her themselves you see, no mistake there.
A pedigree breed, she's got the lot, with such flair.

Ever frisky, talkative, an energetic ton-of-fun.
A perfect companion, if ever you've heard-of-one.
Never do I scold her, even after she's mischievous,
It's a kitten's nature to just be promiscuous...
When she gets home all spent, then she pays rent.
Now I have my own way, and indeed she does pay,
Yes it's her turn for the dream-world, oh heavenly day!


ReplyQuote
SPHINX
(@sphinx)
Member
Joined: 9 years ago
Posts: 64
29/02/2016 11:45 pm  

. + ECONONY +

The more I write, the less I say.
The less I say, the more I mean.
Economy of expression, so it be.
Runes tell a tale in so few marks.
Glyphs from our deep prehistory dark,
Speak volumes of an ancient spark...
Information through, expression in economy.

Jibber jabber, argue all, over the toss.
Endless breath expended, such wasteful loss.
Aim toward the pithy phrase as boss.
Simple, decisive words that never gather moss.
As old ritual was, now shall new-speak be,
Our field of poetry, is expression in economy.
With a focused view, word-power we will renew.

Dredge forth those words of power from below.
From well below this modern mask of woe.
Strip back the tongue to most basic need -
Speech no longer leggy but of pagan seed.
Draw upon a lost, primitive world primeval,
Where potent life was pure and even fearful.
Economy of expression, will teach them all a lesson!


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SPHINX
(@sphinx)
Member
Joined: 9 years ago
Posts: 64
04/03/2016 2:16 am  

.+ DOCTOR D.+

1527 July - born in London, a mathematician remarkable, descended of Radnorshire.
John in Cambridge age 15 - began career, hence Low Countries age 20 to hear,
Mercator his mentor in those tender years - how his astronomy astonished.
Traversed further from England did he, devoted to studies of great merit.
Oft taunted : "companion of hellhounds, conjuror of a wicked damned spirit!"
On the Thames at Mortlake did, Elizabeth Gloriana most keenly visit -
Displaying his learning, She vouchsafed Dr Dee, all ample opportunity.

Good Master D's crystallomancy, became a circumstance quite romantic, as
Practicing astrology for bread, and studying alchymy for pleasure, we here see.
Ever longing to penetrate Talmudic mystery and Rosicrucian theory, was he.
"Favoured of the Invisible!", such mystic exaltations made him, claim himself to be.
1582 Nov. - with sudden glory and awe - the convex Shew-stone did arrive.
Holy Angle Uriel with a calm benign smile, gifted our pious magus
A device for the receipt of visions, from Heaven and future's far mile.

Seven long years D. chased, with a new accomplice, many mad marvels in train.
A cunning, imaginative, pliable skryer - Sir Edward Kelley was his chosen name.
Fertile with fancy and prolific invention, his ears cropped whilst in detention.
Always seeking for funds, to prosecute splendid chimeras, they did travel
Like Royal European celebrity, but unhappily gold never flowed from their alchymy...
1593 Feb. - Edward K. escaping a cell, fell to his death, then into Hell.
1609 Mar. - John Dee met penurious fate, but a famous future does now await!

* * * * *

"Now is there a veil drawn,
before all and all things appear
far beautifuller than ever they did." - Sir E. K.


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SPHINX
(@sphinx)
Member
Joined: 9 years ago
Posts: 64
08/03/2016 1:05 am  

. + CATACLYSM +

The battle rages - men, women all trained to fever pitch.
Crazy mad fools do they rant, rave, roar, all bewitched.
Politicians decided this war must be full-on last ditched.
Like stars in the sky, conflict will be without end...
Spiritual catastrophe, physical wreck and ruin complete.
Across the terrestrial globe, sanity shred into raw meat.
Serried ranks of fierce combatants, cataclysm they seek.

All manner of weird weaponry, trundles the landscape asunder.
Ignore the weak, the least able to fight first go under.
Humanity's mantle of civilized majesty, reduced to charred tragedy...
They that perpetrate the fracture, know it's an unavoidable factor -
Only from destruction of the old, can the new mutant grow.
All heil the Mutant, that's the only future worth knowing.
My black panzer barrels over women, kids, and keeps going.

Every shriek of mutilation, a brave badge of honour for me.
My machine guns unquenched, paint red the world that I see.
Nature is doomed, not a tree to be seen ... but there -
Look up there, a powerful young hawk hovers direct overhead!
Entranced I watch it, seeing both its beauty and dread.
Outside my safe turret I lingered too long, it is said.
My story's end? Stray bullets stitched me, now I am dead!


ReplyQuote
SPHINX
(@sphinx)
Member
Joined: 9 years ago
Posts: 64
11/03/2016 12:40 am  

. + QUARTERS +

Only one in four poems of mine seem here suitable,
Abstruce allusions, tricky terms, myriad tortured phrases unusable.
High flown flights of observation with eloquent disquisition.
Well-wrought heptarchial poetica, some concepts clear in distinction...
Four elements, the core nature of an enigmatic composite sphinx.
From the dangerous parts of wild animals, was I compounded -
Beneath the head of a man, sewn, sealed and unbounded.

The Fourth Dimension, can it be this poet's travel in time?
Verse captured in the brain's cave, shooting off missives sublime.
Stories of monsters, nixies, fey-folk love, old Scandinavian lore.
Also awareness of Asian Gautama's 'Four Noble Truths', for sure.
In step with satyr, Fortuna's kismet and Apis' four-footed sign.
Tales of elementary spirits : salamander, gnome, sylph and undine.
Oddball subjects of interest, sadly a mere quarter suit here.

Still the compass is yours, in balance, aligned and four-cornered.
Bright inspiration my purpose, to not let brave poetry founder.
Else the ultimate punishment is to be torn in four quarters...
Where to, be thy muse departed? Overcome being so half-hearted.
So chastise, cajole, lure forth poetry's glow - herein to show.
From those of you out there, fresh and youthful. Escape the laze,
Four times four do I implore, make your rhyming light here blaze!


ReplyQuote
XON
 XON
(@mal)
The Outsider
Joined: 13 years ago
Posts: 386
17/10/2016 11:42 pm  

Rakes and Red Sandstone

X legged flows sate hanging willows of thought weeping onshore.
In reflecting pools of the mind is unveiled the return of the Scarlet Whore.

Weighty feathers falling freely during Death's final qliphothic unsealing.
Aeons rising into light slip into darkness through a mobius concealing...?

Eleusinian eyes torn from Apollo at the roar of a bestial command.
Appropriates the animadversion of the star God within whom we stand

And stride!

My will is fate.


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 Anonymous
Joined: 50 years ago
Posts: 0
02/04/2017 11:58 am  

I.A.M.O.T. - Banishing Pentagram of A.I.R.

“That’s what it means to be a slave: to live in fear.”
–Roy, Nexus 6 (combat model) TM Tyrrel Corp.

1. I Am Snake who gives
Knowledge, Delight, bright glory
and stirs jealous men.

2. I Am God who lives:
only because I Am King
flows my compassion.

3. God Knows. man believes.
Only Awareness Is Real.
Slaves once were human.

4. Jesus died with thieves;
Buddha denied the Goddess:
She’s No serpent’s sin.

5. No! fairy light breathes,
and Twain! O blue lambent flame!
I Am My Own Twin!

Note: plagiarisms:
Verse 1: the threefold book of Law, chapter 2:22
Verse 2: the threefold book of Law, chapter 2:21
Verse 5: the threefold book of Law, chapter 1:26, 28



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 Anonymous
Joined: 50 years ago
Posts: 0
02/04/2017 12:01 pm  

Admit The Sign Isis Rejoicing! A.T.S.I.R. “and the Circle is Red”

Let The Priestess be Armed with His Magick Rood.
Let Her Beast be Bound to Her Mystic Rose.

In the Centre, let them embrace in Holy Signs of Silence and Defence as they have wit and joy to perform, then:
Let them imagine strongly together the Unicursal Hexagram as their interlocking energy flows, saying:

Mother and Father One Life Infinite
Mother and Child One Life Infinite
Son and Sister One Life Infinite
Daughter and Brother One Life Infinite
Child and Father One Life Infinite
Goddess and God One Life Infinite

Let them turn to the Centre of Them Both Together, flowing between them from Crown to Root and Root to Crown and interlocking at the Heart the Holy Unicursal Hexagram, saying:

One Life in Love Infinite
One Life in Light Infinite
One Life in Liberty Infinite

And so Together as One they shall disappear in the Union of Annihilation which is the Bliss of Love, and they shall be overcome together, and also they come over each other together, making the Sign of the Rosy Cross as they hath Wit and Will to perform Together.

Let the Priest drink of the Sacrament and communicate the same with a Kiss to the Beastess:

“for it is not he that shall arise in the Sign of Isis Rejoicing”.

I.S.T.A.R.


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 Anonymous
Joined: 50 years ago
Posts: 0
02/04/2017 12:13 pm  

NOT, The Cow in the Corn.
"behold my light shed over you"

religion is my science,
that is our faith;
and starting from observance;
And ALso star pope sayeth.

the AL Law is bible-‘ell's: [1]
the trinity is twin:
duality is nothing else
than blessed dissolution.

GOD is NOT the dogs of reason
the kernel is not the plough.
Is Not God all one Person?
The Cobs is in the Cow.

[1] see "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell" William Blake, 1793


ReplyQuote
KB
 KB
(@tobaccotaster)
Member
Joined: 3 years ago
Posts: 24
05/05/2017 10:05 am  

Jack drives chomping on the pink banana.

Jack swerves a little. He thinks he just saw a coyote. Barking pointy-eared bastards.

Jack finishes off the banana and chews on a smoking cigar. He knows where the hiders are hiding.
By the damnit! The horn’s blowing hard! Who’s that bastard driving too slowly onward?

Jack shouts out the window of his station wagon, “Bloody bastard, punch it! I’m in a hurry!”

“And where are you headed, then?” asks the man in the car ahead with a greater quantity of
etiquette than might be justifiably expected.

“I don’t know,” says Jack.

The man in the car ahead appropriately accelerates his vehicle. Jack treats his own zoomie to a
similar adjustment, and they're off at a decent rate.

Jack slams on the brakes before he bumps the bumper of the man in the car ahead. "And what the
hell's the holdup, now? I'm still in a hurry, you know."

"The road is ended," says the man in the car ahead apologetically. "I can't very well punch this ol'
clunker off-road."

"No, I sympathize," says Jack. "This bitch of mine couldn't make it afp - away-from-pavement
either. We'll have to turn around, I suppose. Huh. The road ends. How do you like that?"

"Strange," says the stranger in the car ahead. "I feel myself vanishing."

Jack blinks and the road extends and the stranger and his car have disappeared. Jack drives on into
the Moe's Tavern parking lot and parks in a rude angular manner. He then finds himself sitting at the bar in
front of empty mugs. The next thing he knows, his vicious fists are swinging, and those guns down
many a
drunken bastard. Soon after he's sitting on a park bench with a wino talking about the case.

"So," says Wendy the wino, "So, so. So who's the vic?"

"His name is Mark and he wears slacks," says Jack, "says Jodie Foster."

Wendy looks cross-eyed. Says Wendy, "Sounds like a bum I know."

Jack says, "Great so just show me where he's at and I'll be grateful thanx bunch."

Wendy says, "Listen here pal I ain't no rat no how so none of that sly manips `gainst the old
woman my grandson's about your age. Can't give him up sorry pal can't do it but so out of curiosity
uh
what's he done?"

Jack says, "Uh lady a person in your position would not want to know too much guilt-pressure.
But hey I'll tell you anyway because you asked and maybe I'll get your help after all, you hear this. See,
Mark not only wears slacks but also has the mindset of a thief he steals bacteria. Chemical warfare man it's
the only one of the only well big threats right now to us and maybe Mark's a terrorist and anyways I'm not a
cop."

Wendy says, "Well now that's a different story isn't it? I think I recognize you, you're Jack. I heard things
about you and your tramp. Evil persons shouldn't breed is the word on the street. Yeah, I heard about you,
Jack. Your man's at the docks man sleeping in his b-oa-t/fl--ting house waterbed. Don't kill him too hard
man Mark used to b e a-o.k. guy ago long time"

Jack says, "Hell yeah, lady, thanks!" He speeds off in his station wagon parked somewhere in the
park and drives to the docks he has spent many weekends with in order to familiarize himself with the
terrain as a just incase, foreseeing unpredictable future occurrences such as the future at present being
ationed.

Mark is at the docks all right. Mark is in his slacks sleeping onboard the outboard motored boathouse.

His bed is a white net swaying lazy because Mark’s lazy. He is playing with dangerous chemicals
and carefully contained bacteria.

Jack says, “Yo you’re going down clown. Jo mammaI’ve fucked I used to pop the beef.”

Mark says, “Hey, pig. Onto me at last, aye?”

“Your eyes taste yummy, they shall. Egg-like, like my favorite eggs. It will be a delicious midday
treat!” says Jack.

Mark says, “Yo copper ain’t got nothin’ on me back it off the scare tactics.”

Jack pulls a switchblade from his pocket because it is his favorite knife and he is planning on
cutting severely the target Mark. As Jack executes desired action, Mark gurgles a scream before he loses
that ability, a window of opportunity shut rapidly. As an afterthought to a promise, Jack eats Mark’s
eyeballs.

Jack is delighted. He will soon be munching avariciously away at pink bananas galore. But wait,
the menacing music is playing…

(Scene switch)
“AHA!” shouts Jodie Foster in/with/containing glee. “Falling right into my trap, the boyfriend is… AHA!”

Jodie Foster mixes magical potions carefully, distributing magical elements and separating
magical elements and all-around getting magical with the elements. Can you see the purple smoke clouds?

“Aha! Ha Ha! HA! The rat is in the cage. His death will sate my rage. I am evil like a weasel.
Chillin’ and killin’ and bringing down the town. There’s no stopping this drop---In life force,” says Jodie
Foster.

Her evil plan is unfolding right before your eyes. Jack should have gotten himself better
acquainted with his girl Suzie’s friends. If he had he would have known about this psycho crazywhore.

Jodie Foster looks up names in the phone book. She makes some calls. She connects all her
connections. She arranges an ambush.
(Scene switch)

Jack makes a call through the telephone lines and as his voice travels into Jodie Foster’s earpiece,
he considers the many treats he is in for. The earpiece says, “Hey lady I killed the Mark and I’m coming on
over for the payoff.”

“Oh, there’ll certainly be a payoff,” Jodie says. Her hand covers the mouthpiece and she ejaculates
mad laughter.

Click. Click. That conversation proved brief and rewarding. The real rewards await us in the
distance… Forever in the distance.

Jack pulls into the parking lot. He frees the hurdy-gurdies. He rushes into the building and shouts,
“I’m here for the bananas!”

Right off, nose twitching, Jack senses something fishy.

THWAP! Says the salmon that slams right into Jack’s back. Then, THWAPTHWAPTHWAP!, as
more salmon join in.

The gang’s got the fish by the tails. The gang’s playing Jack like a kettledrum. Only, there’s
something the gang doesn’t know about Jack.

prose poetry / poetry from Eschillion Key


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christibrany
(@christibrany)
Member
Joined: 10 years ago
Posts: 2026
19/05/2017 7:23 pm  

I really like that one, Mal!

Elsie, by Cobs do you mean corn cobs?


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 Anonymous
Joined: 50 years ago
Posts: 0
20/05/2017 2:36 am  

christibrany: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ezra_Pound%27s_Three_Kinds_of_Poetry

Little Boy Blue,
Come blow your horn,
The sheep's in the meadow,
The cow's in the corn;
But where is the boy
Who looks after the sheep?
He's under a haystack,
He's fast asleep.
Will you wake him?
No, not I,
For if I do,
He's sure to cry


ReplyQuote
 Anonymous
Joined: 50 years ago
Posts: 0
20/05/2017 2:39 am  

I’m Perplexed.
An epitaph for a saint.

A great lion
as wounded and perplexed
as any other scion
whose root was seed in sex.

Not of woman born:
a god, and that strangely.
A soldier and a hunchback whore
and got by buggery.

Mother Crowley’s bratty beast
always got a beating
when the little antichrist
said god’s minister was satan.

Then the honeymoon with debauchery begins
on mountains, lakes, islands, deserts.
She is, after drunken sex, in a dream,
and chants dogs' names in reverse.

Satan appears, in his stronghold,
and calls aloud his name: I Was!
He leads the dweller to the threshold
of the abyss beyond the pit Because.

Burn like a Meteor into Night!
(Satan says), and so the imp jumps,
Like Lucifer my Lover Leap into Light!
drunk on disgust, depravity, and junk.

Grown fat like buddha in sinless selfishness
regenerates for a time and an old man has grace.
But a man may not dwell forever in elvenesse,
but vacate the nest as new gods take their place.

Before the silence of the end, a murmur,
seventy-seven times around the sun for the prize,
and in the beginning of the answer
always is this last expiration of surprise!

Plagiarisms:
Line 0: The title is reported to be A. E. Crowley’s last words.
Lines 1-2: The Vision and the Voice, 29th Aethyr.
Line 5: Macbeth, Act V.
Line 6: The Soldier and The Hunchback, Crowley, Collected Works.
Line 20: Liber AL 2:27
Line 22: Crowley, The Book of Lies.
Line 24: Crowley, Leah Sublime.


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christibrany
(@christibrany)
Member
Joined: 10 years ago
Posts: 2026
10/07/2017 8:57 pm  

Keeping this going: unplanned stream of consciousness poem (oh no):

The summer sun beats down
On the beasts and their burdens.
All have heads down,
Waiting for their turn.
No one thinks much or wants too much.
All just rotting slowly;
There are too many things right now,
And all are too dirty.

In the time of the dog days,
the dog himself pants himself to sleep.
No one can feel much due to malaise,
but all eat way too much (mayonnaise).

It is the summer of our awakening.
As old columns finally crumble,
to new ranks of bright old ideals.

We await the coming of the Fall,
Not only for a respite,
But also for the All.


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 Anonymous
Joined: 50 years ago
Posts: 0
11/07/2017 2:35 am  

the multiple cummings (with apologies to W.B. Yeats)

Spurning and burning in the widening fire
The women cannot hear the womaniser;
Veils fall apart; the edifice cannot hold;
Pure liberty is loosed upon the world,
The Moon’s blood tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of transcendence is the crown;
The rest black their conviction, while the Whore
is full of passionate intensity.

Surely this revelation is unmanned;
Surely the Cumming in a second by her hand.
The Multiple Cummings! Hardly is that juice out
When a vast flood out of that pink hole
bathes my sight: everywhere in marketplaces of the slaves
A shape with a woman’s body and for a head a Star,
A gaze deep and infinite as the outer space,
Is moving Her muscular thighs, while all about Her
Real women in the dignity of self-possession.
The juices drip again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of lying spectres
Were vexed to nightmare by a broken bridle,
And this tough bitch, Her Truth come round at last,
gifts or sells Her favours as She will.


ReplyQuote
christibrany
(@christibrany)
Member
Joined: 10 years ago
Posts: 2026
13/07/2017 1:23 am  

elsie that was very juicy. thank you very much. no pun intended. i think. not sure.


ReplyQuote
christibrany
(@christibrany)
Member
Joined: 10 years ago
Posts: 2026
05/11/2018 7:24 pm  

93

This one isn't by me (of course) but I had it stuck in my head today so wanted more to read it 🙂

La Gitana
by Aleister Crowley

Your hair was full of roses in the dewfall as we danced,
The sorceress enchanting and the paladin entranced,
In the starlight as we wove us in a web of silk and steel
Immemorial as the marble in the halls of Boabdil,
In the pleasuance of the roses with the fountains and the yews
Where the snowy Sierra soothed us with the breezes and the dews!
In the starlight as we trembled from a laugh to a caress,
And the God came warm upon us in our pagan allegresse.

Was the Baile de la Bona too seductive? Did you feel
Through the silence and the softness all the tension of the steel?
For your hair was full of roses, and my flesh was full of thorns,
And the midnight came upon us worth a million crazy morns.

Ah! my Gipsy, my Gitana, my Saliya! were you fain
For the dance to turn to earnest? - O the sunny land of Spain!
My Gitana, my Saliya! more delicious than a dove!
With your hair aflame with roses and your lips alight with love!
Shall I see you, shall I kiss you once again? I wander far
From the sunny land of summer to the icy Polar Star.

I shall find you, I shall have you! I am coming back again
From the filth and fog to seek you in the sunny land of Spain.

I shall find you, my Gitana, my Saliya! as of old
With your hair aflame with roses and your body gay with gold.

I shall find you, I shall have you, in the summer and the south
With our passion in your body and our love upon your mouth -
With our wonder and our worship be the world aflame anew!
My Gitana, my Saliya! I am coming back to you!

93 93/93

CHRiS


ReplyQuote
Tiger
(@tiger)
Member
Joined: 13 years ago
Posts: 1309
07/11/2018 3:23 am  

times
lost
in mirage
mirroring
everything
right there
a drift


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christibrany
(@christibrany)
Member
Joined: 10 years ago
Posts: 2026
28/04/2019 12:39 am  

Its a shame that we have Facebook BC not enough people truly share ideas like we do on forums like the ol' Greeks.

Wrote this in my head before drumming .

We are all just little demon egos
Running around in piles of our own excreta
Both mental and physical.
We ascend for a bit (if we are lucky to know and learn)
And go to the supernal restaurant
Sampling the bright tasty spiritual treats we find.
But eventually we have to go back to work and descend into our own personal repetitions.
Over and over again.
The wheel of samsara is a hell of a bitch.
Take your knocks and get back up.
Stop being a pussy.
And when autocorrect gets you down
Tell the man to shove it where Malkuth dost not shine.


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christibrany
(@christibrany)
Member
Joined: 10 years ago
Posts: 2026
14/05/2019 11:36 pm  

re-reading tBoL 🙂 not tBotL

DEWDROPS

Verily, love is death, and death is life to come.
Man returneth not again; the stream floweth not uphill; the old life is no more; there is a new life that is not his.
Yet that life is of his very essence; it is more He than all that he calls He.
In the silence of a dewdrop is every tendency of his soul, and of his mind, and of his body; it is the Quintessence and the Elixir of his being. Therein are the forces that made him and his father and his father’s father before him.
This is the Dew of Immortality.
Let this go free, even as It will; thou art not its master, but the vehicle of It.

-
ps its nice to see that crazy rant from 'babalon' or 'scarlet woman' of last night was deleted. That was something else...


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Tiger
(@tiger)
Member
Joined: 13 years ago
Posts: 1309
15/05/2019 5:17 am  

Crazed moments
wonder ?
Because

emotional
flux vested
cycles
pulse analog
bothering why ?

love
toils;

head in the way
still thinking .

----------------

@christibrany
that must a been quite a rant
you saw obliged


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christibrany
(@christibrany)
Member
Joined: 10 years ago
Posts: 2026
15/05/2019 4:09 pm  

The rant was like unto a rabid dog on speed
Full of venom and quite a nasty screed.
Fair reader picture if ye will
A woman unhinged and ready to kill
All of us 'cunts' because we're unworthy
To partake of the 'knowledge'
We are too topsy turvy.
In her mind we un-evolved, idiots on LAShTAL
Spew endless male idiocies but think we know it all.
The dog-catcher came, and put down the dog
So that most of the crew would not be agog.

😉


ReplyQuote
Tiger
(@tiger)
Member
Joined: 13 years ago
Posts: 1309
15/05/2019 5:03 pm  

Well let’s hope the dog doesn't have 9 lives .


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christibrany
(@christibrany)
Member
Joined: 10 years ago
Posts: 2026
05/06/2019 4:33 pm  

Nice images of the ocean and some other things. AC:

Lo! I lament. Fallen is the sixfold Star:
Slain is Asar.
O twinned with me in the womb of Night!
O son of my bowels to the Lord of Light!
Ο man of mine that hast covered me
From the shame of my virginity!

Where art thou?

Is it not Apep thy brother,
The snake in my womb that am thy mother,
That hath slain thee by violence girt with guile,
And scattered thy limbs on the Nile?
Lo! I lament. I have forged a whirling Star:
I seek Asar.

Ο Nepti, sister!
Arise in the dusk From thy chamber of mystery and musk!
Come with me, though weary the way,
To bring back his life to the rended clay!
See! are not these the hands that wove
Delight, and these the arms that strove
With me? And these the feet, the thighs
That were lovely in mine eyes?
Lo! I lament. I gather in my car
Thine head, Asar.

And this—is this not the trunk he rended?
But—oh! oh! oh l—the task transcended,
Where is the holy idol that stood
For the god of thy queen’s beatitude?
Here is the tent—but where is the pole?
Here is the body—but where is the soul?

Nepti, sister, the work is undone
For lack of the needed One
Lo! Ι lament. There is no god so far
As mine Asar!
There is no hope, none, in the corpse, in the tomb.
But these—what are these that war in my womb?
There is vengeance and triumph at last of Maat
In Ra-Hoor-Khut and in Hoor-pa-Kraat!

Twins they shall rise; being twins they are one,
The Lord of the Sword and the Son of the Sun
Silence, coeval colleague of Voice,
The plumes of Amoun—rejoice!
Lo I rejoice.
I heal the sanguine scar
Of slain Asar.

I was the Past,
Nature the Mother.
He was the Present,
Man my brother.
Look to the Future, the Child—oh paean
The Child that is crowned in the Lion—Aeon!

The sea-dawns surge and billow and break
Beneath the scourge of the Star and the Snake.
To my lord I have borne in my womb deep-vaulted
This babe for ever exalted!


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XON
 XON
(@mal)
The Outsider
Joined: 13 years ago
Posts: 386
30/10/2019 9:10 pm  

I really like that one, Mal!

I'm glad you like it, Chris.
I very much enjoy reciting it as a rap. Even recorded it and it helped me to do more ritual in song.

Posting again for correction and the convenience of whoever is curious:

Rakes and Red Sandstone

X legged flows sate hanging willows of thought weeping onshore.
In reflecting pools of the mind is unveiled the return of the Scarlet Whore.

Weighty feathers falling freely during Death’s final qliphothic unsealing.
Aeons rising into light slip into darkness through a mobius concealing…?

Eleusinian eyes torn from Apollo at the roar of a bestial command
Appropriates the animadversion of the star God within whom we stand

And stride!

My will is fate.


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