| Frater Achad | Aleister Crowley other authors to be added Poetry of Aleister CrowleyFrom O L L A An Anthology of Sixty Years of Song, 1946My First Poem Cambridge I am a blind man on a helmless ship, Without a compass on a stormy sea; I cannot sink, for God doth hold me up; I cannot stray (? err); 'tis God that guideth me. The Owl Cefalu The owl, by simply sitting still and blinking, Persuades folk that his life is passed in thinking. Charles Darwin dived where dilettanti waded; Rubbing his nose, he did not do as they did; (It used to drive Charles Darwin fairly frantic To find folk superficial and romantic!) He went to frogs and mice and such small fowl, And got their point of view about the owl. Moral: the quiet folk of the community Are, maybe, waiting for their opportunity. Optimist Washington, D.C. Kill off mankind, And give the Earth a Chance! Nature might find In her inheritance The seedlings of a race Less infinitely base. The Happy Man Mexico I can't read, and I can't write; I'm in bed all day, and drunk all night. STYX Copenhagen (To M. M. M.) " The number nine is sacred, as the Oracles inform us, and attaineth the summits of philosophy. " — Zoroaster " Novem continuas futationes. " — Catullus Nine times I kissed my lover in her sleep: The first time, to make sure that she was there; The second, as a sleepy sort of prayer; The third, because I wished that she should weep; The fourth, to draw her kisses and to keep; The fifth, for love; the sixth, in sweet despair; The seventh, to destroy us unaware; The eight, to dive within the infernal deep. The last, to kill her—and myself as well! Ah! joy of seet annihilation, The blackness that invades the burning sun, My swart limbs and her limbs adorable! So nine times dead before the night is done, Even as Styx nine times embraces Hell. Panacea Hastings (This poem may, but need not be, translated in to all languages. It is patriotically offered as an International Anthem to Anglo-Saxondom.) Money, money, money, money, Money, money, money; Money, money, money, money, Money, money, money; Money, money, money, money, Money, money, money; Money, money, money, money, Money, money, money; Money, money, money, money, Money, money, money; Money, money, money, money, Money, money, money. Who Loves The Truth Munchen Who loves the truth had better stand, Rein and pommel in his hand: Who thinks the truth is wise to put Ready in stirrup riding-boot: Who speaks the truth is safe—if springs From his back a pair of wings! Logos Hastings Out of the night forth flamed a star—mine own! Now seventy light-years nearer I urge Constant mine heart through the abyss unknow, Its glory my sole guide while spaces surge About me. Seventy light-years! As I near The gate of light that men call death, its cold Pale gleam begins to pulse, a throbbing sphere, Systole and diastole of eager gold, New life immortal, warmth of passion bleed Till night's black velvet burn to crimson. Hark! It is Thy voice, Thy word, the secret seed Of rapture that admonishes the dark. Swift! By necessity most righteous drawn, Hermes, authentic augur of the dawn! The Tyler to Alfrida Tillyard Cambridge Whenever I have spiritual thought I interlard it with obscene allusion, So that chaste women of the baser sort May be confounded in complete confusion. I garnish my Priapic epigrams With Virgin garlands from an angel's brow, That honest men, though held in harlot hams May reach a hand, and pluck the Golden Bough. These worthy boars read me with frowning brows, But of their Guardian Angel gain a fresh hold: However eager, those unworthy sows Meet only with the Dweller of the Threshold. An Oath Written during the Dawn Meditation Marseilles Aiwaz! Confirm my troth with Thee! my will inspire With secret sperm of subtle, free, creating Fire! Mould thou my very flesh as Thine, renew my birth In childhood merry as divine, enchanted Earth! Dissolve my rapture in Thine own, a sacred slaughter Whereby to capture and atone the Soul of water! Fill thou my mind with gleaming Thought intense and rare To One refined, outflung to Naught, the Word of Air! Most, bridal bound, my quintessential Form thus freeing From self, be found one Selfhood blent in Spirit Being. Prayer At Sunset To the Hon, Ralph Shirley Tali Fu God, who hast sent me forth to be the priest Of Thine immortal fire, Grant me to kindle one new torch at least Ere mine expire! Christ, who hast chosen me to bear the Cross, To pay the infinite price, Let save one soul from everlasting loss My sacrifice! Spirit, who has filled me with the sacred strife That brings the eternal peace, Let my breath quicken one dead soul to life Before it cease! In My Harem Fontainebleau Rotten with drunk and diseases, Crazy with drugs &151; ah, my thesis Proves but too clearly what pleases. I, being God in simplicity, Lust after all eccentricity, Wallow in death and lubricity. You, you keep bowling full-pitches! Damn all these amateur bitches! Ge me my old riding-breeches! Reasoner And Rimer Hohenlauben Thuringia P.S. 1943 e.v. I have not died and gone to heaven; I'm going stomg at sixty-seven. P.P.S. Dont' brag about your lease of luck, Unless you want to come unstuck! Thanatos Basileos Netherwood, The Ridge, Hastings. 1946 The Serpent dips his head beneath the sea His mother, source of all his energy Eternal, thence to draw the strenght he needs On earth to do indomitable deeds Once more; and they, who saw but understood Naught of his nature of beatitude Were awed: they murmured with abated breath; Als the Master; so he sinks in death. But whoso knows the mystery of man Sees life and death as curves of one same plan. 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