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Page 1 of 11909 · PDF PAGE 2
Clouds they are without water, carried about of winds; trees whose fruit withereth, without fruit, twice dead, plucked up by the roots ; raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame; wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness for ever. Clouds without Wa ter EDITED FROM A PRIVATE M. S. BY THE Rev. C. VEREY (ALEISTER CROWLEY) PRIVATELY PRINTED FOR CIRCULATION AMONG MINISTERS OF RELIGION 1909
1909 · PDF PAGE 35
Xx XI To-morrow is the day when Christ our Lord Were you a shop-girl and myself a clerk, Rose from the dead; therefore, the shopsare shut. Things might be better — we could surely meet Men may get drunk, or syphilized, or bored, With due umbrellas in the dripping Park Robbed, murdered, or regenerated — but ! And decorously spoon upona seat. But they must not get letters, be amused, This is the penalty one pays for rank Or do a thing they want to do till Monday; And fortune ! Ah, my Lola, I am dying Whence comes the universally-diffused And mad …
1909 · PDF PAGE 46
…s ardour of the priest Clutch at his throat, theurgic frenzy fly About the initiates of the Paschal feast And know it centred in the dim dead I Loosed by the pang — even thus you know it is, Even thus, when I invoke your harsh caress, Put up my mouth to your immortal kiss, Confess you for my lady and murderess — In mine own life-blood I exult to float Even as your white fangs fasten in my throat.
1909 · PDF PAGE 29
…e nape O’ th’ neck I feel your lips. I raise my head To dream — your mouth achievesitsluscious rape — I fall back — you are on me — I am dead. Could it be better? For I surely know That you will follow me adown the deep When I lay pen and paper by, and go Into the ardent avenues of sleep : — There also we will drink the appeasing wine, Lola, my Lola, mystic maiden o’ mine! III The Hermit
1909 · PDF PAGE 30
… That you make sweet —- black dogs of doubt and fear Howl at my heels while care plies whip and spur, Driving me down to the dull damned dead sphere Where is no sight or sound or scent of Her Our Lady Dian, but where hag and witch Hecat bestrides her broom ~~ the bestial bitch!
1909 · PDF PAGE 52
…n an evil dream : Devils and dancers, druid rites and dread, Horrible symbols scarred across the sky, Invisible terrors of the quick and dead, Impossible phantoms in mad revelry Conjoined in spinthriae of bestial form, Human-faced toads, and serpent-headed women, All lashed and slashed by the all-wandering storm Caricature of all things holy and human — —- Such are the discords that absolve the strain As this wild threnody dissolves the brain. XIII Forgive me, o my holy and happy maid, Lola, sweet Lola, for the imagination Of all things monstro…
1909 · PDF PAGE 58
… our lipsreached forth And with a conscious purpose smote their holy Lives into one, and loosed their common wrath. Unto the ends of our dead universe Their frenzy rolled; henceforth no prince or power Should lift the sterile strength of that one curse Even to bring one thought to birth one hour. For now we knew; ” it is a lonely thing To sit supreme upon the single throne; ” But being come thus far, goes glittering: " It is a lovely thing to be alone! ” Silence! Beware to speak the fatal word That might inweave our two-ply with a third ! IX Wh…
1909 · PDF PAGE 17
…, o thou red mouth curving In kisses that bring blood, shall I be alone? What of the accomplice of these deeds unswerving? Will not your dead hot hisses match mine own? As here your ardours brand me bone and marrow Biting like fire and poison in my veins, Shall you not there still ply your nameless harrow, Mingle a cup from those our common pains To intoxicate us with an extreme pleasure Keener than life’s, more dolorous than death’s Till these infernal blisses pass the measure Of heaven’s imagined by the tremulous breaths Ot silly saints and s…
1909 · PDF PAGE 34
… out ! The earth, Fair as it seemed, becomes a hideous den, And all life’s promises of little worth. Like to a mother whose one child is dead I wander, aching for the sight, the sound, The touch — familiar, now inhibited. The child is under ground — is under ground— The child is under ground-— who comforts her ? The bastard fool her priest ? The useless clod Her husband? The accursed murderer Her God ? — if so be that she hath a God. Foul curses from my life’s envenomed flood Break in a vomit of black foam and blood. IX As one entranced by dint…
1909 · PDF PAGE 68
… pain swings over into pleasure, Now that the union which is death is done, The wine of bliss roils out in brimming measure. The moon is dead — all glory to the Sun! Now, now! Oh no! Oh no! I penetrate — I pierce. Enough. God! God! how Thou art great! —- TIE —