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I will be glad and rejoice in you; I will sing praise to your name O most high.
Psalms 9:2

Occult Notebook

Volume I

27-July 98 Johan U. Xavier

published by
Threshold Publishing Company
P.O. Box 4033
Blaine, WA 98231

Table of Contents:

  • The Marriage of St. Felix
  • O Timaeus
  • Psalm IO
  • Tzaddi
  • Imrum
  • Timmum
  • Psalm II
  • Psalm XII
  • Ben Joseph Ben Asher Ben Lev
  • Psalm XIII
  • The Grandfather Clause
  • Jane
  • The Intertestamentary Period
  • Joaz Banbeck
  • Herakles to Rapha
  • Bind my ways
  • Redpath
  • You and I
  • Republic of San Marino
  • I was the watchman
  • Greenwich Mean Time
  • Seal the Breach
  • Epithets of Action
  • Lysistrata in America
  • Palomar (6:40 p.m.)
  • Death is fast approaching
  • Odysseus’ Tenth Labor’s Love Lost
  • Millennial Decree
  • Stay Me
  • Milton’s Confession
  • Candlemas
  • Torn asunder by the Great Decree
  • Allegorical Epithets of Ipsissimus
  • Debts Accrued
  • Felix Numinisimus
  • 48 Hrs Later
  • And
  • Day of the Lion
  • Running Free
  • The Octets
  • The Passions of Man
  • The Cruelty of the Summer
  • Two will get you….. 9: Flight 2127
  • Day of the Empress
  • Our Passion Met
  • We Fly
  • My Wife
  • Eros 13
  • Aesculapius
  • Stone and Silence
  • Bright and Fair
  • Thirty Days
  • Why dost thou weep?
  • In the Kingdom of the Air
  • Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony
  • I fight within
  • Day of the Empress: Surcease
  • What wait
  • How I have longed
  • I am above
  • Oh Subtlety
  • Comes Basileus to Al Amarna
  • Circe’s Web
  • Day of the Jackal
  • As we wait
  • Prosperity
  • Playing Against the Nets
  • The Day of Ordering of Three
  • After the Feast
  • Gnomon
  • As I pray
  • Timaeus (II)
  • Obeisance
  • I am given over
  • Retreat 10-16-98=124=7
  • Sensibility
  • Oh thou unholy one
  • Victory
  • And there, she lies
  • I, John
  • The Preacher
  • Losing Generations
  • Prophet of the Day Before Tomorrow
  • For A Single Moment
  • The Shorn
  • Night
  • The Grief of Autumn
  • Oh love
  • This Song
  • The Marches of Madness
  • Sleep
  • Oh my love
  • The Rising of the Fall
  • My Love, My Opposite
  • Friday, Unto Saturday
  • Oh pain
  • For she I loved so well
  • The Damned, Returning
  • The Invocation of Basileus

    The Marriage of St. Felix

    Oh Love, I would Thee wed
    And mean to live I do
    Oh Joyful rest in me instead
    Of weeping as you do
    Oh Love rest in Me today
    Let me hands embrace Thee
    For we are as One,
    We are as mates today.
    O Timaeus

    Righteousness incarnate
    Grown to manhood without scorn
    How I love thee, and thy good works
    All blessed are thy house, and
    Through thy house, all Thine.
    Columbia (III)

    Land of blessedness, of Light
    Of modesty and peace
    Thy shrines are open for the worshipping
    Thy daughters for the wedding and the wine.
    Arise, Columbia
    My lovely,
    All pain is past, all calumny undone.
    Psalm IO

    Before my eyes rises the Sun
    O Helios, protector of my brethren
    Thou Eheyah, Lord of Light
    My staff and strength and right.

    Imra is my guardian
    She my threshold keeper
    Bear with, and stand before me,
    The Lord of Eheyah is my lord of Life.

    My daughters bled their wedding
    Blood for Judah and its Christ
    Restore the tide of former years
    And set the lineage right.

    Sprayed upon our foreheads
    Is the mark of Cain again
    We cannot be slain.
    Psalm II

    Blessed be, and blessed give
    O Weeper of misfortune
    End the endlessness of Time
    And give our children wine.
    He is root, he Vine, his rod a comfort to the wicked
    We are sinners all, and unforgiven
    Shorn and weak, we come into Thy presence
    House of David, House of Asher,
    House of Dan.
    I strike my staff upon the ground
    The Lion is in summer
    Rage the Tiger on the beach
    The Man will follow sooner.
    Psalm XII

    Ben Joseph Ben Asher Ben Lev

    Thrice four resound, thrice four
    And bring the Hashanadah to the Feast
    The Tabernacle has opened full
    And the grave is empty now.
    Anointed One of Light
    Thy sage repens the
    Chronicle of this thy Wedding feast
    How soon are lost, how soon
    Are sacrifices gathered for the Feast.
    Ben Joseph, Ben Asher, Ben Lev,
    We are known by Cain and suffered as thy Able
    Oh Seth, how Enoch knew
    But could not let Thee by
    Thy holy Gate.
    Psalm XIII

    Ariel come forth
    Thou angel of delight
    My Hephzibah, my ashen child
    O Ariel
    Return to this Thy Right.
    My children are by Thee wed
    And thus anointed by Thy light
    Be children of the lights thirteen
    Be Mages by the ancient firelight.
    Yesterday was a watershed day of memory, recollection, abreaction.
    6-August-98=112=4 =
    These are days you’ll remember.
    Never before
    And never since
    And you will Know
    You’re half of something
    It’s true that you
    Are blessed and special.
    When the lights
    Go out
    In the City
    And the Moon shines over the Bay;
    I will be with you there
    In My City
    Over Grandfather
    The Grandfather Clause

    My father stands upon the infinitude
    And my tiny feet, a million tiny left feet forward legs
    Gives up a leg for Azazel.
    Salish I call you down, O Skagit!
    Weheyah Wei, wahona hon
    Tahoma Tay, O Beynah
    Duwamps o beynah Sali ish
    She She, she nay Nohah.
    N.T. 3-4-999 6-Aug –98 O.T.
    From the Old World
    In Urarta
    31-Jul-98 Old Time
    The Lost Week
    Between worlds

    My hardest petulance
    De Bruik, author of the Storm
    Beleaguered by the Son (sun)
    Harried by the Rain
    You live your pleasures in the Lie
    And come awake too soon
    For one who, misdirected
    Is diverted to the Sky.
    Johannes U. X. N.O.S. 3-3-999, 31-Jul-98 O.T.
    The Intertestamentary Period

    From 3 to 1, from 5 to 4
    The time is 5:15
    From 3 to 2, from 2 to none
    Give us seven wages war!
    Raven fly and rabbit tear
    Your watches to the storm
    Fly out, fly back
    We will not send you black
    Snow white your feather sails
    Into the sky.
    Colossus, you fall
    And ten more labors does Odysseus
    Before the cantors’ call
    Send the water down, but aired
    So my sons of wrath will not be spared.
    31-July-98 O.T.
    3-4-999 NT over Grandfather
    Joaz Banbeck

    Joaz, did you not hear Jachin
    Banbeck did not shell the Boat ashore
    Skulls are lined upon the boundary
    And termagants are crowding to your shore.
    I will leave you, inverted Boaz
    I will live your wife, Joachin
    Contemplate the Almighty
    Let your vision blend into your dream.
    Psalm 3:8:999

    I see all
    And all are deemed by God unworthy;
    I close my eyes and All
    Are rendered worthy.
    Call the host Entire;
    For war is now engaged;
    Let wisdom break upon the demons’ brow.
    Kublai Khan – from the last week – 4-Aug-98 4 a.m.

    Bleed out
    The milk of paradise
    Lying still in the prison of your loins
    For it is sweet though aged
    My love remembered as acute
    She clove me,
    Ere the battle had been joined.
    As so I cleave to her
    My love an exercise in amplitude and grace
    I must find her way to love me
    That may never change.
    O Love, my love
    My madness’ ken
    How wilt Thou bleed Your
    Milk of Paradise again?

    Hill, GMT.
    Herakles to Rapha

    So many battles fought, and lost, O Zeus
    But shorn I went, unto your Altar
    Singer of the Homeroi
    Warrior, and fallen temple priest
    Favor me with fortune
    So that I might serve you best.
    Chthonios, thou Ruler of the World
    I went to Rapha and was heard
    But his cupidity struck at my back
    And lures me to the field
    When will I be welcome at your Window
    When will I be freed from all this pain?
    I must be yoked to Hera’s favored sons
    I will not bow, a prisoner
    Nor compromised by challenges to peace
    I will deliver them to you
    Do with them what You will.
    Bind my ways

    Bind my ways O Eheyah
    Grant me consolation for the days
    My fallen house, my fallen brethren
    Torn from wombs they could not breach
    My milk is wasted on these children
    My grain is wasted on the kine
    But look upon them all with mercy
    For my love is Joseph’s, blind
    Loved, they will not pass from me
    My love for them is wilted on the Vine.
    My sacrifice is made complete
    So let there be a Temple
    Rise before their feet.
    Grant an end to weeping, O Eheyah
    Hear my plea, O Jacob
    For thou art struck from Joseph’s womb
    Hear me, children of the Ladder
    The Nephilim are harder fought
    And faster.
    Mission San Rafael Arc Angel
    Before GMT

    We are all of us together
    I, like all my army, stopped,
    But unlike these, my men,
    My children and their ken
    I know whereof I wait
    I know whereof I speak
    It is tomorrow
    And life is born today.
    We crossed the Sea
    We are seldom blessed
    But blessed, we marry Thee
    The open land is here for all to see
    And all will soon be breath
    And breathing free.
    12:21 GMT
    7-Aug-98 Larkspur
    You and I

    You and I, Messiach
    Both made small in Wisdom
    Sensitive in power
    We are all made straight
    In the awful shower at the Gate.
    We use ourselves with Mercy
    But in our Mercy
    Is the will of God untold.
    The power is unleashed, and not by my hand alone
    The towers have been breached
    And not by your Wrath alone.
    Republic of San Marino

    Too many saints
    Crowding on this hill
    Too much of empathy
    Of Apostles whetted for delight.
    I was the watchman

    I was the watchman
    Of the long eternal hour
    I was the binder of the demon in the Tree
    I waited out the empty days of night
    Who authored all the seas of light
    Time is nothing
    When all the world is ransomed over Thee.
    Greenwich Mean Time

    This mean season
    Drawn and quartered by Millennial Decree
    Their small moment
    Is the death of me.
    Seal the Breach

    All my enemies lie slain
    And my army is at rest
    It is time Basileus retires
    And becomes what he is best
    No warrior he, the modern scholar
    Pressed into the breach
    But something hid, and something
    Zeus would have me teach.
    I stand, a watchman
    A torch upon Thy wall
    See my wake, Jerusalem
    And hear the word of Saul.
    Over Mt. Hood/Helens
    Epithets of Action

    Undone – Not John Donne
    Unmanned – Not Thomas Mann
    No more/nevermore – Not Thomas More
    Unbearded – not Caesar
    Hairless – not Brutus
    Beware – Declare war
    Lysistrata in America

    Now who shall refuse
    To kneel before the Almighty God of Lust
    Know thou, that
    ‘Tis better to serve Mammon in this land
    Than Dionysios.
    Fertilize the seed that falls unwasted
    Onto hallowed ground instead
    Watch the slaves of Mormon
    Fit the need.
    17-Aug-98 1:25/1:30 p.m.
    As the Executive sits on trial.
    19-Aug-98=125=8 8.20-98 = 126=9 before 7 p.m. 8-21-98 MARK
    Dionysios in Amerika

    Do not again cavort
    For you will risk the wrath of Eros
    And his false Decrees
    He does not belie
    Olympian unfree.
    The rage of Hera
    Is so like the storm
    That rises slowly on the sea.
    17-Aug-98 1:30 p.m. over Shasta
    Last night, I dreamed of Shasta.
    I will, I must, be there, over Shasta.
    Palomar (6:40 p.m.)

    So now the die is cast
    And events arise to shape the coming dawn
    I am sage
    Cleansed of earth and fire
    Shorn of rage
    I am reborn
    And rise to greet the raging of the storm.
    It is time
    And now our century of bliss is come at last
    The die is cast
    I am in the Gambler’s hands
    Working free
    Working as the agent of the Tree.
    I shine
    And while the telescopes are free
    My goal is realigned
    22 ot 4 and 33 at 364
    The palms are met
    My agents are unsent
    The rage is come
    My destiny unset.
    I die again to dies irae
    I am not the god of strife
    But reconciliation
    Grieve for something sunnier than death
    Grieve for passion’s breath
    Mt. Palomar National Observatory
    Death is fast approaching

    Death is fast approaching, demon Death
    How well I know your countenance and breath
    Stand and be unmet, O Specter
    I would have my brethren with me yet.
    Is there mercy in this service
    As we battle death?
    Is there hardship yet again imposed
    While I defeat my shade
    You are unsung, Shadow
    I must defeat you ere I live tomorrow new.
    I met Numen in the early morn
    And two alone
    Our sails were newly worn.
    17-Aug-98 580/121 Alameda/Pleasanton
    Odysseus’ Tenth Labor’s Love Lost

    And so Christiane, the daughter of the Holy One
    Went on the day of Wrath to Raphael
    And spoke in a loud voice, and said
    I would wish my vengeance be satisfied
    But the world will by this learn little
    Of the mercy of the Lord.
    They believe themselves in mercy, merciless
    And righteous on the pose of righteousless
    They cannot know the wrath they seek
    Is senseless, and will not slake
    The appetite for Sun
    Let this battle be unwon
    And I not here to punish but to sing
    And long they labored, just to hear me sing
    Let this song of Ancient Wrath
    Be now
    Millennial Decree

    The world will end in 1993
    So we, the authors of that Wrath
    Shall plan ahead 900 years and
    In that time lose 3
    The birth of Christ, was, after all, in 103 BCE
    So six behind will add another 3.
    So nine behind and three a head
    Use Numen’s Elogy
    For young Saint Saens was right again
    For two will get you three!
    A million 2 were found above the 47th tree
    When Angels manifested on the day of our Degree.
    Prudence hobbled on my Path
    And Joseph did preserve Her
    Prudence will be seen again
    Though none could truly hurt Her.
    Profligate, your works abound
    In Judah, on today
    What grief will bind them motionless
    When appetites are found?
    Oh Kae, take them to your land
    And let them stay afraid
    With their wives, or daughters three
    And let their souls be spared.
    For each who hides the shameful wound
    Let all be seen to see
    The hanging noose that rings their nose
    As bulls are wont to be.
    And only I and Numen were
    At harvest on the Lea
    And only two of us remembered
    When the Ocean sank the Sea.
    Yet with our third, the Circle is revealed
    And all will soon behold the Hour
    The Hour is not 7 years hence, or 3
    Or 2 but – 6 going onto –7 and counting.
    On October 12, old, old old time
    Was born a beast
    And April 12, old old time
    Another was released
    And August 12 was born the Harlot, not in Majesty
    These are symbols only and not the Messiach’s degree.
    We shall not sing our date of birth
    For Rosenkreutz decrees!
    I have seen the Law today
    And bow to the Degree
    I have met the Son today
    And serve Him on my Knee.
    Over Mt. Shasta 5:36, 1:36 GMT
    All the Earth prepares for the Degree Cadeuceus
    Stay Me

    Stay me, Oh thou great Eheyah
    Stay the tune of wrathfulness
    I am warrior less
    The less I feel Your path
    I am Endued
    For Edward is accused of Treason
    And well he should
    Good King Wen
    Ce Slaws.
    Milton’s Confession

    Lord, I have been too full of Puritans
    To love you purely
    I have been too shorn of love
    To see her love as holy
    With Thee I always meant to live
    A nun, devoute and pure
    But wilted on the Vine, I could not live
    And be demure
    For Love of Thee I hated and
    Was bound to Thy decree
    For Hate cannot engender Faith
    Where Love was meant to bee
    My wife, my termagant, my love
    Would never cleave to me
    And so in passion took by force
    And broke Her into Three
    There will never bee excuse
    For such a one as Me
    I beg to be unworthy
    But still you wait for me.
      • On the Boundless Mercy of the Decree, and on my Selfishnesse
      • Bridgemere, Wessex
      • 1641 August 8
      • Renouncing Orders to the Church of England


    Tonight is Candlemas
    Torn asunder by the Great Decree
    It is time to seek a haven
    In the word of the degree.
    Nine bells we sound at Candlemas
    Nine witches topple from a Tree
    I grow sick, so sick
    So sicker I shall be.
    So Mote it Be
    9-19-98 (sic)
    Allegorical Epithets of Ipsissimus

    Sich "I am"
    Sicher/sicker "I am that I am" YHVH
    Ich "I" higher self
    She "Shin" lower nature, upraised
    Be "Binah" understanding
    Kei, Kay, Ke "Kether" Crown
    Tough "Tiphareth"
    Peas "Pesach" – the Sacrifice
    Wood Tiger in Earth Season

    The day of the Dog is the dog day afternoon
    The Tiger’s tooth will yet be pulled.
    Debts Accrued

    On this Date
    In 1998
    You will pay me 88
    The currency determined now
    Will bear the symbol of the Tau.
    What was not said, but must be penned
    Is that the date has been upend
    So instead of joining in the Fun
    You pay me less in ’61!
    So now the Coin is minted whole
    And Julius is Master
    I could not be wealthier
    If Raphael were after.
    Felix Numinisimus

    Felix was my name
    The eldest son of Atlas
    A singer in my youth
    Whiling away the nights relighting Aetna
    Basking in the warm Tyrrhenian sea.
    If he could touch the crown of Jupiter
    Then maybe I, the tallest of the brood
    Could sail into the realm of Achis
    And have a worthy name like that of Atlas
    Felix of the Overworld.
    The eldest son of Atlas
    The tallest of the brood
    The lowest of the humble
    Ferrying the living past the corpse of Acheron.
    8-18/19, 98
    48 Hrs Later

    As Cancer rises bright with Luna
    In her frail destructive light
    I wax and so she wanes to nothingness
    Until the endless Lion roars.
    Two days have passed, I lay upon the fevered land
    I walked, and flew, and waited
    Without the hours few.
    11:30-6 7
    Of those few days my eyes saw naught but few,
    Forty were known
    And eight unknown
    I tried, oh how great I reached for 42
    I lay awake and could not come with 2.
    The gate is straight
    The way is narrow
    And the path into the Gate
    Is passing straight.
    19-Aug-98 after Alarum
    J.U.X. Johan Uri Xavier
    J.F.X. Johan Francis Xavier
    Johan U. Xavier
    Vance Hotel,
    8-19-98= 125=9


    So we run, as fast and far
    As Love can take us to the Infinite
    Run fast and far and hide in Me
    There is no escaping Lions on the Lea.
    Day of the Lion
    Flight 169

    Running Free

    Howsoever I am wont to run, I run
    Regardless of the time or timelessness of season
    I have ever been this way, for freedom
    In reward for freedom bought with sacrifice unspoken
    All I need is flowing from my poem
    All I love is granted me again
    And all that was destroyed by death
    Is given me again, unbroken
    It is as though my life is granted to me once again, unlived
    All mistakes unmade
    And all that remains of that unlived life
    Is that I lie awake at night afraid
    Were that this little maid inside my mind be unafraid!
    My love, O love in terror,
    How can I protect you from the life that passes now behind?
    How can I purge the terror from your undermind?
    Lord, I plead with Thee
    To take the child that now clings to me
    Enwrap her in the Love that will not end.
    Psalm 0+1
    Thou Greatest of All Rulers
    Thou King of Righteousness
    Slay the ignorant among us
    Let them stay themselves
    Within the realm of helplessness
    And leave the rest of Man
    To greet the Lion poised upon Your land.
    Psalm 0+2
    The world of Time is passed at Thy command
    Take from me all of the illusions of the time
    Grant me life and Love unending
    So I may bless the moments that may pass.
    The Octets

    These women
    How do they reflect the beauty that lies imprisoned in my wild love?
    How can they know that my desire is buried deep
    Inside the womb they have not opened
    Grant them light so they may find the love
    They do not know they seek
    As Luna rules their night.
    Brief, unchallenged night
    Ruled by She the unrepentant Foreign bride
    She is mine entire
    She waits for me with unrepentant ire
    Pain will be my portion if I fail
    And love will be rewarded as I serve and slowly hail
    She is mine, and pledged to me entire
    She is Beauty in the searing bright of fire.
    Samuel’s Son
    David’s harp lies mute
    Though once again the March resounded
    Much was done in that brief space of solitude
    Much inspired
    His march resounded as it does whenever Michael sings
    Plays though David touches not the strings
    Let the world lay still as Michael sings!
    Oh though I grieve
    For lands beneath the realm of ragged cloth
    There is no sorrow left upon the land
    For she is freed
    For though I bled for wounds unhealed,
    Unscarred, she is rejoicing in the temple
    How can I grieve when victory is won
    How shall our challenge be unsung
    Why should I weep when Death is overcome?
    40 more or 40 less could matter
    Yet less I speak the more will conscience come
    Scald me wakeful, Yahweh, for I am cold in sin
    Wake me cruel so we may sooner win.
    My goal is all.
    Yet 40 more will greet me if I fall.
    Give me over to the will of All
    And let the 40 waken when you call.
    Greet Me
    Greet me well and modestly
    I am nothing to the will of Thee, Almighty
    Mercy on the one who wakes to soon to be made worthy
    Mercy on the ones who wake with me.
    Mercy on my cold beloved, hiding in his Tree
    Mercy on the self-fulfilled in doomed and shadow land.
    Providence on those whose theft of me gave rise to anger,
    Willingness on those who bargain free.
    For we are full
    This land was far too empty before now
    Before our birth laid claim to Thy decree
    For we are full and mighty now, O Lord
    Oh Lord of Life and Love
    We await the fury of Thy Call.
    They await the thunder and the hail of madness then
    We await the mercy of the All.
    Let the cantors wait until we call.
    58 were. 58 are now. 58. 58. 58.
    She comes undone….

    As I pen the letters of my epic
    She comes undone
    And presses me against the tides of madness
    Doth she not know that she is ever mine thou ever mad
    Doth she not see the love we might have had?
    I am thrust into a shame I can not bear
    Yet must
    She is chained as Myrrha was
    Unto the lust of Zeus
    My crime is plain for all the world to see
    My passion is the blight upon her tree.
    John Milton
    Upon the contemplation of his solitude and the causes of same
    1643 Evensong 23 September
    In the empty hall of Lawrence Lord Essex (long may he stay in London)
    In nominatum probitur
    The Passions of Man

    (As told to the author)

    "Oh bleed the iniquity from out my flesh
    For I am found unworthy
    Let my rage be spent on somethinge spended grate
    The penalty for concupiscence must be high
    To make me so enflamed
    Tear the freedom from my very eyes that I be blind to her
    So that all my passions will be sooner blind
    I do not bleed despite my prayer
    And goes unanswered this my devil’s need."
    Were they unprotestant
    These would be Confession
    Were I but priest to lay shrive upon them
    But I am wicked much as He
    I am slave to witness the unfree.
    John Milton
    23 September 1642
    In the halls of Marbrey
    With Leighton and the children of misfortune
    Deus ex logos, diabolus in excelsus
    The Cruelty of the Summer

    As I was lashed by these uncertain tides
    The everlasting twilight waned
    Into the crimson dark
    The moon was past the new
    And somewhere ‘neath the star
    The child wept, the tears were washed away by rain
    And I was conquered by the pain of his lament.
    He will soon be free
    But how long will I remain
    Communicant for those who fight
    Again to die
    In parodies of pain
    Broken on the wheel of ignorant misfortune;
    This is the cruelty of the summer
    Unrelieved by autumn’s cooling rain.
    Two will get you….. 9: Flight 2127
    The movement is afoot, and I am borne above.
    I slept as dead, the sleep of death I took
    Now all and everything begins.
    Day of the Empress

    Willowed down below, blasted far above,
    Here will not be found soft death.
    The measurement of seasons has begun
    And we are raised
    Each moment of our retrograde
    Is praised.
    Once were three, and now are three begun
    In worship in the light of Praise
    But none are sung.
    This day of Three has not in truth, begun.
    We are engaged,
    As all without, the world has grown enraged.
    Our Passion Met

    Our passion met the limit of our flesh
    And grew…
    And so, enflamed, we grew and meshed
    And could not meet anew
    We grew enflamed.
    Love, cannot my love be born in you afresh?
    Why do you ache to breathe me into you?
    Why goes unslaked the passion that awakes
    Anew, anew
    And sleeps within, to grasp my weary flesh?
    I cannot fulfill this endless lust,
    But try I will, but cease at last, I must.
    We Fly

    As far as death has flung us from the Infinite
    We fly
    And toss our crowding madnesses
    Into the cloudless sky.
    The world is come unglued
    As far as we can cast ourselves
    Before the holy rood
    We sanctify Your reign.
    And we will live again
    Below the storm material
    Among the fruited plains
    All we have is harvested in rain.
    Will none believe we grew our love in pain?
    To throw forgiveness to the wind
    To love ourselves again
    It matters not
    For twice while four the clock is torn in twain.
    My Wife

    How long I loved her, bright and dark
    My wife undone, my life unloved
    Yet could not please her, nor her rudeness sparked
    The horror of her aching dark.
    Oh death pursued her through her night
    And long she lusted for my pain
    We slake the beast but sooner does the beast return again
    I still pursue, though she is lost to light.
    My love, I pray, return to me
    Be heaven-born, be ever free
    And long I pled, she will not be
    And so undone, she flees from me.
    Though I am well, I am not whole
    Without the true companion soul
    On the Tract of Divorce
    1645 31 March

    Eros 13

    She was my wild love
    Unbridled and uncaring
    Tempted by the fullest fate, uncaring
    Did I take temptation then
    Oh yes, for I would take temptation then!
    For she was full of rapturous delight
    And she was eager for the finest of my goods
    She lay with me, and stole my greater light
    Enraptured by the fever of her night.
    My pleasured love, unending
    My death of consciousness
    How could I care, for naught was all forgotten?
    In the hideous incitement of her moods.
    I lay with Eros, and was lost within her Wood.

    When I am the face of ugliness
    And greedy is my sole intent
    I fall, and in the falling am upend
    There I seek the willingness to mend.
    Stone and Silence

    The stones that fell from outer sky
    Brought fever to the world below
    So far unknown, the wholly blest
    Were carriers of wretchedness.
    O Alien and cold, these conscienceless
    Within the broiling ocean
    Ceased to stir the froth of brine
    And murmured from below.
    Captured by the light Divine
    They swept their conquest clean
    And leading from the choir loft
    Their Host was Byzantine.
    Release the Host, thou Lord of Life
    And break the mold of Pichas
    Send the wretched back to Light
    And free the human home.
    This was the day of breaking through.
    All the life before the bleeding life began
    Came with me from that room…
    Now I know the Headsman
    And well I know the Warden
    They have marked my face in blood
    And never would my soul release
    The power that was
    Never theirs to take, but mine…
    And now I claim, by right Divine
    The power of the Light regained,
    Forever Thine.
    I will not be light denied
    For even though each day, I died
    The power of the Word survived.
    Bright and Fair

    And oh,
    As far as we were flung from Love in discord,
    As brutal as the war between us raged
    We were met
    And come together whole
    My love and I, we were engaged.
    And though as loud and terrible
    As Florestan has danced upon
    The world’s unholy stage
    Eusebius is laughing
    And the Emperor is laughing
    For the world is bright and fair
    And She has smiled upon me, bright and fair
    And all the world
    Is brightened by the Air.
    R.S. at Autumn
    Gefallen sicherheit
    Thirty Days

    Thirty days ago
    The Trumpet blast was heard
    And all has fallen flat
    Before Thy word.
    And thirty days ago, I see
    I penned today a date
    And called I forth the Lion
    As the Profligate decreed.
    And Oh, the waste!
    I run among the billowed storm
    As though I have been chased
    All blood is thin as water
    And the moment is erased.
    I bleed for Thee, as long I lived
    Executrix for those who wait
    I feel the pang of leadership
    As long I wait to lead.
    Is today the day I lead?
    I would not care to
    Yet I have placed myself at liberty
    And freed I am to sorrow.
    And how should I be freed?
    I cannot say and yet I plead
    Let freedom come by joy
    And not be violence.
    We cannot have both scholarship
    And rest.
    How I longed to rest!
    The end has not yet come
    To end my test.
    On the day of release from Sorrow
    Why dost thou weep?

    Pain has been my portion every day
    And now the rain is come
    My weeping has at length begun
    And fear has lighted on this empty page.
    How will she rage?
    For she would rage until my death
    If I would let her
    Oh my weeping one, when wilt Thou be assuaged?
    How can poetry contain Thy holy rage?
    Perhaps you wish to weep
    My love, my brutal wife
    If you would cry, and once at least,
    To sleep…
    Let me come to you,
    And let your rages keep.
    In the Kingdom of the Air

    I seek the Light
    Prophet of the day before Tomorrow
    It is time we ended all our Sin
    It is time the speaking of the Lie is ceased.
    It is time the Angel blasts a tone
    To sound the Tone of silence
    Prolegomenon to Thy decree
    Yet I cannot cease myself.
    I pray You give surcease to Me.
    Over Hood/30K
    Soon it will be time to wake again and resume.
    Oh my love,
    The cries that greet me now are
    Not of gladness, but of pain
    Why must we set this fevered course
    And bring the night again, again?
    9-20-98 1 Tishri 10:30 p.m.
    Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony

    The Day of Atonement
    Rosh Hashanah 5759
    Oh brief my eye’s despair
    Which sees the turning age grow old…
    For as the flame banks high upon the Tower
    And as our kings are herded fast before the Rod
    So we bleed into ourselves
    The ripeness of the Hour
    So we greet the fallen sons of God.
    I am met by two, and two
    Are soon beset by three
    And all our Host are fast engaged
    The war for Heaven has been lost and won
    The war of man and angel
    Is at length begun.
    I fight within

    I fight within myself
    And strive against the pride
    That wells up from within.
    This which I have sacrificed to win.
      9-22-98 4:48 Mars Rises  
    The moon is past the new…
    None can hear me now
    The Son of Strength is unheard by all
    And must be met, though strong.
    And none shall dispute
    With the Sons of Perdition.
    Day of the Empress: Surcease

    How might three be done again
    In permutations of the Tree
    Here I sit, absorbing sun
    While Tiger wanders free
    And who, at length, embraces Thee
    Oh Lord of Life
    Magnificent in power
    Is there none awaiting Justice
    In the ripening of this
    Our final night
    Of unrelenting strife?
    Let us cease
    I was there king
    Until, at length, I gained release
    Yet they condemn me out of hand
    Who once was mighty, fallen
    And they will stop me still
    Until our wars are ceased.
    There is not enough of blood in me
    To grant them all surcease
    There is not enough of Light in me
    To bring a lasting peace.
    How might three be done again
    To bring the reign of Peace
    For here I lay, reborn of man
    To ransom all who weep.
    They killed me
    And yet, I would not die
    That chieftain of the arrogant
    That scholar of the Word
    I breathe, I live again
    To waken those who sleep.
    Grant me strength in Light
    Oh Lord of Life.
    Nox Perditiona
    If it were only true
    The final death
    The moment of Surrender
    When all iniquity is done
    And wrath is poured as wine
    Upon our bodies.
    There is the dream of endless pain
    For Torquemada’s legions
    The Engineering Corps of Hell remains
    To tease the wrath of underminds
    Into the rage of God.
    What rage is this, invented by
    The mortal mind in rage?
    Not blessing of the Holy One
    Nor written by His sage
    The wrath that seizes all of us
    Is not of Heaven made.
    And march again the legions of misfortune
    Lately blessed, yet damned another age
    Do they not know we have outgrown them,
    Every Beast
    And every word the prophet lays upon the page?
      9-22-98 3:37  
    What wait

    My beauteous, at rest and now displayed
    Resplendent in her courtesy
    Mouldy with disdain
    I have unnerved her, so my portion is to wait
    And wait another year in vain
    For she is naught but vengeful
    In the garment of disdain
    My beauteous, my brilliant
    Has filled my world with pain.
      9-23-98 Hill  
    How I have longed

    How I have longed for this world
    And all the beauty in it
    Conquered by despair and cast apart.
    My sentence was that I remain unused
    Unknown by all, but known.
    Untested by the trial that beset the world about.
    Were that I exhibit passion for the New
    And strain to wear the cloth of righteousness
    Without the stain of sin
    But now, I know, am I locked in battle
    With an enemy more subtle than I knew
    And do not know what outcome may await
    What form of victory this plan may take
    Yet if I wait…
    I may regain the world I once destroyed
    And conqueror of that one land
    That man has late enjoyed
    This is the one, my only occupation
    Early seen, and now at length, employed.
    I am above

    I have been in this uncertainty before
    Chained by power when embraced by righteousness
    Dogged by conscience when pursuing power,
    There is no place for prophecy in power
    There is no room for hatred in this
    Lately-sacred hour.
    Oh Subtlety

    Your name is womanhood
    Yet I would not be strong
    Without your passion
    I would not be whole without your love.
    Oh Thou, the rampant undermind
    This womanhood that seeks to rule
    The whole of me, unkind
    I cannot let her free
    I cannot be a slave to ignorance unfree
    For as she weeps in darkness
    Thus are blinded We;
    There must be wisdom in the madness that is She.
    Breathe, my Light, my Life of consciousness
    Let the Lord of Life return the sanity to She.
    And more than met, we shall conjoin
    The crux of passion’s crucible
    The power in our loins
    This becomes the fountainhead of power
    Rejoined, remarried, as our broken soul is coined
    The chamber opens to the chastened
    And unlooses fire in the newly-builded Tree.
    Comes Basileus to Al Amarna

    Fayoum, the desert place
    Awash by flood, unfavored by the God
    The lake has filled with brine and death
    We cannot slake our thirst
    Nor catch our ragged breath.
    Here came the warriors of some new Zion
    Here was lost their scripture to the flooded Nile
    Yet here I have been led, this sullen latitude has called
    And all before lays below in stillness.
    All is death, yet power glimmers in the rock
    Spirits rise from sun and sand
    And proffer me their vision
    I wait the spirit in the stone
    To rise before my weary feet
    As all are dead, my vigil is alone.
    I await the spirit to arise
    As long I stand, alone.
    Forest of Error

    When I am unmade
    I seek the pleasures of the flesh
    And seek to justify the rising of my shade
    He comes
    As dogging all my footsteps, I yet walk in pleasure's glade.
    Lord of Life, prepare me for
    The mission I have made,
    I can be Love, and Light
    If Light I Seek, my soul's desire tonight.
    No fire in my flesh is worth the loss of this, my Right
    No dalliance is worth the demon fight.
      9-27-98 The Atonement  
    The Fly in Amber

    The fly in amber, frozen still
    Still regards his Maker
    The hollow eye is baleful as it stares
    As I in turn, regard the fly
    Who represents my anger
    He will not be freed
    Not in moments of my passion
    Nor in wisdom by decree
    And so the fly remains
    As I in turn, prepare to die
    To force another season
    Or still, remain
    As cataclysm roots out my disdain
    And fortune gives the lie to lingering pain.
    For Thee, I will remain
    To watch the fly in amber
    Prisoner of pride in flesh
    Of rampant vanity
    He is mine, a hostage to the drawing-in of Breath
    For no amount of time will hasten flesh.
    The world in amber, frozen fast
    Fast regards its Maker
    Material is rendered by the 'All,
    Those who can will fast remember
    Those who do will rise before its Call.
    10-3-98 Dayton
    Mercenary Life

    So on this day
    I became a mercenary to the Kingdom of the Air
    Though in some vague way
    Displeased the king
    I dwelt in safety all the days I tarried there.
    The mercenary life is freedom
    For the wicked and unfree
    And much reward is given for its service
    Wealth is easy when it comes by intellect's decree
    Pleasure is the future dynasty.
    One day, I will be free
    To carry on pursuits of Self,
    Unhampered by degrees
    But as I stand on treasured land
    I grow, and come to be
    The time of trial is mythology.
    The Light-Hearted

    I met the light-eyed warrior
    In guise of young Athene
    We met at Center on the day
    Before the day before the
    Ordering of three
    I came to her to make my mission
    Freshen in my mind
    For much is needed to be done
    And few are servants to the mission of the kind
    And she was heavy in her burden
    And I, her servant for an hour
    Could not ease her mind.
    How can I serve the warriors
    Who battle without strength
    Beaten down, discouraged from the fight
    What word of wisdom carried me
    To victory and light
    What freedom from my soul’s intent?
    I must remain steadfast
    And not be stranded from the light
    My resolve must now be greater than before
    The temple lies in shadow
    And its genius is devout
    How can it stand
    When all is turning dark about?
    10-3-98 Chicago
    Circe’s Web

    Arachne soon will swallow all her children
    And the finest mesh expands to fill the void
    And Circe once again will sweep the sea
    She gasps the mind of ignorance
    And captures terrors three
    From Circe’s web will issue this decree;
    "Abandon hope, ye Rose and Cross
    The Temple is destroyed
    Atlantis is forsaken
    And your rulership is void."
    Oh no greater lie than half a truth
    Is promulgated now
    Yet no one prophet will be soon deceived
    Return to Me, the hallowed scry
    Ignore the baleful oath
    The truth within will overcome the Lie.
    Day of the Jackal

    I am alone amid the millions of my children
    Strong in love, and stronger in my passion
    Will none escape the wilderness of flesh
    To join with me in spirit
    To bring to birth the love I mean to free?
    This was my fate, this moment is my destiny unspoken
    I am full, yet empty to be filled with Thy decree;
    What prospers when the world remains unripe;
    What destiny is written while the moment is unknown.
    Something hid may smite me as I sleep
    The jackal-headed specter is my shade;
    There is yet another test
    Another wonder to be made
    I wait the evening out to night
    To see my mission blest.
    10-3-98 Chicago
    As we wait

    My love grows deep in roses
    I find her in the pleasures of the heart
    My spirit, weak in ignorance
    Is chastened by the rendering
    I find so soon in art.

    Each moment in the world
    I stop and wonder
    At the point of poverty’s incessant need
    For in the realm of lack
    There is the smell of waste within
    It rankles in the nostrils
    And as its foetor grows, we are unmanned
    Prosperity will be denied to all
    In this regime
    As rampant grows the appetite of greed.
    10-6-98 after Full Moon
    Playing Against the Nets

    The larger I may grow in prosperous delight
    The larger grows my enemy the shadow
    It is a game to him
    The play of light and shadow
    Touch me not, O Shadow…
    For what am I, if I am other than the light
    And what is he, if he does not oppose
    We are unmet, and in reverse
    I come up against the nets that seek to hold
    If I lose it will not be a game to me for long;
    And lest I win; my victory is bleak.
    The Shadow is about and sweeps the sea;
    He seeks for darkness motes among the
    Darkest diamonds lying on the Lea;
    He seeks for me.
    Before the day before the day…
    The Day of Ordering of Three

    Camped upon the cliff, we are alone
    Edged into the edging limb of umbra
    Unseen, we must remain unseen.
    All among the humankind are
    Ordered into three
    Just as he and I and those who would be Me
    All calumny is come; and lies
    Are pinned against the judges and the jury,
    Justice is unhinged among us
    In the land that once was free.
    Without justice, law will be found conscienceless
    And man will find no solace
    In the artificial order
    We are lawless now, abroad
    We cannot see ourselves as free
    But soon enough, as once was prophesied
    The turning age grows old;
    None are innocent, but some indeed
    Beyond recovery;
    And now these kings are known by fruits they store n silos
    And soon they are deposed.
    In this new order there is nothing
    But the ordering of three;
    The storm is rising fast before us all
    We wait the lightning on the land
    The timing of the Fall
    We wait in patience for the sounding of the Call.
    10-8-98 And the moment after

    All the turmoil…
    How can this be worth
    The resource we devote to it?
    How can pain be so packaged
    For our export
    Fr this brief amount of gain?
    Mammon must be master of this round
    Are lost within the press,
    To finance, to the bank
    So run the piggies to the market
    To sell this pound of flesh.
    10-8-98 = 116=8
    Oh my love,

    I am not enough for Thee,
    Though I am with you always
    Your rage is all unspoken
    There is no discretion I can practice
    That will bring you peace
    There is no passionate embrace
    That brings your full release
    This I finally know
    The wave of your desire has a brutal undertow.
    After the Feast

    When I lay with her, barren, and I
    Brought her fertile to her peak,
    There would be no issue from this night of mad desire;
    No child from the seed of passion’s night
    Though she, my one and only,
    And I, her ruling priest
    Are met again, and blest again in union
    We are not embodied for the raising of a race
    And far afield are nurtured all our children
    Oh love, if I could hold you every day
    I would father on you all my worthy sons,
    And lovely, tall and straight,
    The purest daughters,
    But barren we remain
    We are not embodied to be so immured in flesh
    This passion is the drawing-in of Breath.
    In the sacred season
    When we have made our vow
    The Lord of Life will raise our holy children,
    And as He speaks; our seed are counted numberless
    As waves upon the Ocean
    Pray with me, the moment will be found.
    O Lord of David and of Abraham
    You have found us in error before this day
    Release us, lovers, from the house of pleasure
    And show anew the way to serve the light.
    She resists me, but this is her error’s season;
    She may weep, but serve we lately shall.

    We have been few before this day
    The nameless, our companions
    But we are more than two, this truth we know
    And more in time will soon behold the Way.
    This is the season, when the book shall be redone
    Blessed by faith, and tested in the wilderness
    It will sit, a gnomon in the lately shadowed Clock
    While Time precedes to end in endlessness.
    I have the Hand that rests as shadow on the Clock
    I am the Clock that chimes the end of things.
    As I pray

    My passion cools and sharpens to my task;
    That which was undone is soon remade;
    I have been blessed and fast forgiven
    My love is with me as we long have prayed…
    There is so much within me;
    Life I never glimpsed before today;
    As I progress, unfolding, on the steep and winding path
    I pause a moment once again to pray;
    Oh Lord, I have been the most unholy servant
    Wicked in the politics of need;
    And now the weeping earth
    Is wounded by my pride
    And much too late I harvest from your seed.
    For as I pray, the land is newly broken
    To yield the poison manna of the past
    O Israel of prophecy, come forward
    Is no one humble as they face the deeds of man?
    I am reborn today as righteous
    For just a moment do I stand in justice
    I am not the judge of men, or arbiter
    But bid the judge to weigh me lacking.
    There is no humility in fire
    The words upon my lips are lost to pain
    This commission of the Father is too heavy
    To bear the sorrow rising on the rain.
    My pen is growing empty as I speak
    As dry as paper are the words of invocation
    Now I fade
    For yet another season
    I pray to be remade.
    enroute to Atlanta
    Timaeus (II)

    Gather up our gospel for the fire
    Brother, this day is black with wickedness
    No truth can here be spoken
    Turn away before the calendar is done.
    Something hid has smitten thee, Timaeus
    Some small demon of a rampant kind
    I know thee better than myself sometimes
    And cannot live in ignorance of mind;
    The day of prophecy is come
    And is unstoppable
    The Will of God is greater than my own;
    To mouth the words of righteousness
    Will never set Thee right
    No will of mine will bring Thee to Thy home.
    The Will of God rests on me, inconceivable
    And drives me forth to greet the golden dawn;
    Perhap we part tomorrow
    To be born another day;
    I pray you well to meet me further on.
    Oh Brother, how to lose the Sun
    Before the break of Day?
    How the light has waned within the Temple…
    Is there no hope, is there but hope
    To wait another day
    Had I but strength to wait another day!
    Something hid has grappled you to ground
    And has no will to stop its motion;
    I have no strength, defiant in defense
    To slay it ere it seeps into your mind
    Oh how to lose the Sun
    Before the break of day?
    Few enough are those who serve me now
    How the light has banked so low
    So bright to be engaged
    When Cosumel has lighted on your brow?
    Oh Timaeus, when wilt Thou be free?
    I will be ever found at this, the humble altar
    But will we meet again? I cannot know.
      10-15-98 enroute, Atlanta.  

    At length, when all my pride is lost
    And passion-led remembrance is a play
    There is at length the moment of obeisance
    Where there is none to hasten me to pray.
    I am given over

    I am given over to a subtle master now,
    This bright contumely of the intellectual
    I would have thought the Profligate enough
    To school me in deceit
    And breed a healthy fear of ivory.
    But I am in his debt, this mercenary prince
    Yet I cannot find the way to serve his pleasure;
    Nothing good will please this haughty appetite
    For beauty is a pleasant metaphor.
    This has happened long ago, and once before,
    Where long I served some subtle prince’s pleasure
    And when at length, the play grew long
    My days at court were ended.
    What shall I do, when I am given over
    Bow to him, to serve his power’s greed?
    Or do I flee, to serve a wiser master
    Refusing late the vast egoic need?
    This play I will not need;
    Nor pleasure in the mental realms of space
    I am required elsewhere
    And go I must,
    Regardless of despair.
    I did not wish to serve displeasure so;
    I will not serve the Lord
    If I am brought so low.
    Retreat 10-16-98=124=7

    Having run where I was bidden
    I had my silent rage
    Now I shall retreat
    I have emptied myself of words
    And the hollow voice, uncertainty]
    Has spoken.
    Tomorrow, I am at liberty
    Perhaps a preparation will be made
    There is time to labor, and there is a season for the harvest
    Here within, is my solemnity.
    Solemnity has quelled each day of laughter
    Fear of my tomorrow looms afresh
    Ah tomorrow and tomorrow and the next
    Are canvas for the painting of my flesh.
    I have lived these days in fire
    Such moments I have never burned so bright
    What does it mean, to be so raptured by the fire
    Days are lost in passion burning bright.
    In my retreat this night
    I grow disgusted by my flesh
    The weakening desire of the mind
    And turn anew to that small voice
    The questing of my Breath
    To light another, finer passion new
    I have prayed tonight for wisdom
    For the passion of the New
    I have bled for loyalty to pleasure
    I have never felt so wicked or so lost upon the world
    Though God is in my vision every day.
    This is my fundamental time of Test
    When every solid thing confers disgust
    This my body and its worshipping of life
    Is nothing but the dross of heavy lust.
    I fast retreat, and write
    Though all my words are empty
    And the cadences of Rhythm have been lost
    She has fled me, Muse, yet I am obstinate to write
    This is confessional, for long this vigil is, tonight.
    There will be song again, and thus I know
    Confession has its value, not in verse
    I will not show to man, yet God will always know
    Purgation comes when I have grown perverse.
    I lived in the kingdom of the rampant flesh
    My limits all were passed and then surpassed
    Now my inner battle is again engaged
    I wished it so…
    I wished it so! This is my land
    I am greedy for the pleasure of the world
    I would be lost
    If I long dwell without the purity
    I need to bring to chasten this my Hand.
    I am empty, yet this must be
    For always rushes forward my tomorrow
    Yesterday has tumbled forth
    And change has come.
    There is no wisdom in my pen;
    For change has come
    Again, the world has altered me completely
    Again, the God has lighted on my pen.
    over Kentucky

    Sensibility is a finer science
    Than the exercise of mind
    Pleasure is the wealth of aestheticians
    Spirit cannot waken in the leavened flesh
    I would prefer this cleaner sin of mine.
    Oh thou unholy one

    I loved you
    In the form of brother and of son
    How many times have fathered you
    Upon a disappointed mother
    I have had enough of fashioning
    My enemy in flesh
    And breathing you to life with passion's breath.
    Return! Thou banished Triskelion
    The triple headed demon I abhor
    I had loved the vanity I made
    And nurtured it until I numbered four.
    And did I love you?
    This portion of a lower self denied
    My demon son, my fever life
    Unfolding into one
    And can I send you back into the Sun?
    There is no death in this unreflected realm
    We face each other, enemies of love;
    Unholy one, the only weapon I can raise
    Is bliss that covers all the world above.
    I was unholy when I raised this soul to power;
    And I am shorn to slay it in its foul lair.
    Upon the exile of the unholy
    To the e lower skies 10-16-98

    So this is victory
    The empty moment as a shadow
    Darkens the now-blessed sky.
    And there, she lies

    My child life, my bright and bright-denied,
    No more peculiar pilgrimage was made
    Than this, that stole the last remains of pride,
    I cannot find again that moment
    When we were met, when she was light-denied,
    When I was held within her grasp so tightly
    Slave of all she might have asked of me.
    Who was I when I was slave to she?
    Some fascinated soldier of the line;
    This plastic realm, my Fall each other time
    I wonder still if I have learned this time.
    I feel her breath upon me as a flame
    I feel the rising of my lately-burning shame.
    Regret 10-18-98 7:40 a.m Dayton
    126=9 Day of the Hermit
    I bled out my regret this night
    Before returning to the altar in the West
    I cannot say that I am virtuous today
    I pled and prayed for Light but I was stricken
    Now is time to heal this scar I made.
    Oh the shadow's hand has touched me
    And I grew bright in battle with my sin;
    There is none and nothing that will take my blame
    There is no hiding place to store
    The wisdom that has risen out of shame.
    There is only remorse
    For passions I have lately kindled
    I must realize that for all the rest
    Who do not make my choice
    They have not set this arbitrary course.
    And so, I must retreat
    For tomorrow and tomorrow and the next
    Until I heal;
    Who can say what power I must yield
    To free my love from shadow under sin?
    I have seen this sin, and made my full confession;
    I have asked the God within for this surcease
    And soon, as long I pray, the madness ends
    By Cosmic intercession.
    And was this meant to be,
    To burn my soul by fever and by flesh?
    It is not for me to say…
    I wait the sky to bring a holy day.
    10-18-98, dawn
    I, John

    I, John, a sinner
    Unworthy to be known as one chosen
    Having sacrificed my wisdom
    Having persecuted those who held me dear
    Await the judgement of the Lord
    For I, a sinner
    Not named so by an arbitrary priest
    Nor damned in dream of a religionist's convention
    But by that one measure that is always mine to use;
    By that one hand that I had pledged to God in service
    By Conscience only I am rendered now unworthy;
    By Conscience too, shall soon be raised
    To this, tomorrow's labor.
    Chicago, upon the storm
    The Preacher

    I have been vouchsafed from the haughty profession
    Of the preacher,
    But as I wait
    I meet one such, another deep unfortunate
    Laboring for his own version of the Light.
    It is easy for the egoist to mock;
    To scorn the servants of the lower word
    But Wisdom does not bear itself
    On only hallowed shoulders
    Soul is often brightest shown in Hell.
    And so I greet the Preacher
    And inquire;
    He may have been my brother once
    Or once again, my daughter,
    I have wronged so many in the world
    What is a single kindness
    In the passing of an hour
    I am certain there are many kings
    Arrayed like Satan's preachers
    Seeking for the light amid the shards;
    I will be there, and speak a word of simple kindness
    For some future moment when he speaks the Word;
    What is one kindness, as the prideful kill another hour
    None will note the passing of the Bard.
    One day again, I meet the passing Preacher
    Chastened by the mystery of Law
    I will be there, and he will know my face
    When Thelema and Crowley are no more.
    from Chicago
    Losing Generations

    We slept, while righteousness raised money;
    And Pharmacy disabled all our sons
    None would cease the great electric noise
    Who can read when noise has eaten pace?
    Two generations hence will health return
    With silence, and against indoctrination
    Those who plead for silence, or at least for sanity
    Will lead the rest to render us surcease.
    This roar is the reign of Madness incarnate
    And it will roar for twenty years and more
    And when the second decade comes
    And pills have been forsaken
    Health will be restored
    Sanity at last will grip the youngest generations
    And then, Thy kingdom comes.
    Prophet of the Day Before Tomorrow

    And so, embraced my love
    And forgave myself my sin
    I drew myself together, and was restored
    A prophet, as the day before had told.
    These events that grip the world are great
    And conquer many of the weak with sheer despair
    It is as written, but the greater still
    Are yet to come
    And stronger hearts will yield to fate to come.
    We shall not relent
    Our words are writ in agony
    Our pleas have not been spent
    And suffering will not be stayed
    From those who relish greed
    They will feel the sting of sudden need.
    I am inured to greed
    But bold are those who seek
    Their ever-empty purse to feed
    Material will choke them full with need.
    Their waste will cure the hunger of the world
    Till none are empty;
    This I see, and surely all shall know
    Today has come,
    The day before tomorrow
    The day has come for Wisdom
    To release the slaves
    Who bow each day to Sorrow.
    For A Single Moment

    Did I die completely
    Insensate, a soul again unbound
    I flew to God, my home above
    And knew I had been found.
      10-18-98 20,000'    
    The Shorn

    Too early met, my Caiaphas
    Betrayer ere the prophecy was made
    You could not keep your faith with me,
    And so are shorn.
    These bitter truths are laid before me,
    In one brief moment in the common temple
    Enemy, though standing tall before the altar
    Obedient in form, though only I perceive your fall;
    When will you bow, if ever
    Must I see you crushed,
    Like those we left a thousand years ago
    As corpses on a plain where righteousness was ours?
    I would not see you crushed
    Though enemy,
    I would not be the judge that sees you crushed.
    But who, at length, will stand with me,
    And must a martyr always be forsworn?
    I weary of this newest age of martyrs
    Victims of the ego of the shorn.
    I weary quickly of the energy of martyrs
    The searing of their flesh and bone
    There is nothing in my sight
    But this millennial dismay
    For none of those forsaken will atone.
    For P.L. frc.
    At the Turning Away
    112=4 At the Fall of Fire
    10-24-98 = 132=6

    Silence reigns within me once again
    Where late my lord was unrelenting anger
    Yet my conscience, at least, has now been cleared
    My tasks are newly made complete.
    I am with my beloved
    And she with me, entire
    Perhaps today she will be well
    My whole, my every dream inspired
    Perhaps today the fire of our love
    Will bank and flame too passionate
    To kindle demon ire.
    The Grief of Autumn

    There is, it seems
    Some anger in the rising wind
    Some grief is manifest upon the rain in Autumn
    I am alone;
    More stricken by the horror of my stillness
    Than the clarions of war;
    War is come
    Without my doors, within my breast
    The terror of the great unknown
    The moment before my bliss
    I have fled the furor of the great Illusory
    And sit in stillness by an unmade fire.
    There is to me, some anger in the rising wind
    Cathartic in its very noise
    What will blow toward the shore tomorrow?
    The metaphor of rain is in my insubstantial tears
    They do not seem to cease in sunlight;
    My tears are strange enough
    This grief is strange enough
    To drive the fear of morning through the night.
    Oh love

    Why cannot I feel Thy hand
    Of reassurance now?
    I am so lost below
    Though I have beckoned Thee above
    Why cannot I feel the warmth
    Of Thy unending Love?
    This Song

    Is somber in its ponderous intent
    This day is endless
    If my light remains unspent.

    The Marches of Madness

    I have had the madness lifted
    And my enemy has failed
    Yet I weep.
    I weep for happiness unbroken
    I have been wicked too, before this day;
    I have been fervid in the loud pursuit of pain
    I cannot see to care for what I dare resent
    This day has all my wickedness been spent.

    The healer of my many wounds
    The salve upon my conscience
    When I retreat to this my crimson room
    The blanket of your silence covers all in gloom.
    My little death each day
    To keep at bay that lengthy death of conscious life
    That only comes when I cannot obey:
    The voice of knowledge that is mine
    She rises from within
    That murmur of my love
    As she emerges from my skin
    This magic is the child life of sleep
    So soon I am returning
    As I plough the inner deep.
    Oh my love

    There is some great ecstasy
    In this abode of silence
    And our prayer is done, we see
    Beyond the prison of our flesh
    We have re-begun
    All I know of Thee is that I shall begin to learn
    All I see of life is but the lesson of an hour
    If compared to that sweetest mystery
    I contemplate each night
    The moment that I lay you down.
    Each day I see a difference in your countenance, my love
    Each night I greet the newness
    Of the self that is your Self
    Each day has God delivered us of pain
    And restored my love into my waiting arms.
    The Rising of the Fall

    The unholy purpose
    Makes its presence plain
    We are splayed across the centuries
    And harvest poison grain.
    We are the corruptors of mankind
    Doomed by wisdom, and constrained by our desire
    We are as they, our hopes are theirs
    Though we are no longer innocent
    Or blissfully blind.
    Our torment is what we have made of Heaven, hell;
    This world, these men, our passion and our pain
    We loved them ill, as through the ages,
    Lay with them again,
    I pray we learn at length
    To love them well.
    My Love, My Opposite

    Is it within me, that I love you ill?
    Is it myself that beckons in the night
    Or is that voice less shrill
    Who can say what voice in me
    Is that single true companion…
    Will she ever live with me
    And give herself as wife?
    I dare not say, and daring not,
    I weep;
    How must I wait the endless days
    While my love remains asleep?
    Friday, Unto Saturday

    The future is upon me now,
    So clearly do I see
    A half a million bodies washed
    Upon the beach at autumn,
    I care only for the thing I wish to know
    Is my love with me?
    This I fear, yet this is so
    In tomorrow, as today,
    She will forsake me;
    The knowledge of tomorrow is more cruel than kind
    I must proceed as though my eyes,
    Made bright with flame and fire-life
    Are dull and yet unopened
    I must plead her cause each day
    Though that distant morning
    Shall be dawning bleak,
    And I, alone, held captive
    By the vision of the history to come
    As once I knew today, tomorrow,
    So today, I know the detail of the distance
    And every aching line of agony
    She etches endlessly in clay;
    She will not be stayed.
    Oh pain

    This is Cassandra’s curse
    To feel the pain before
    The mighty blow of sword is struck
    To see the empire crumble
    ‘Ere the crown is placed
    This is my doom, my eerie destiny, to watch
    As all that righteousness has built
    Is withered ‘ere the perfect dawn.
    For she I loved so well

    Has struck me cold today
    Returned the only gift that I could love,
    She rendered me, not as I am,
    But as the young Basileus
    Before his march began.
    How well she knew his face
    And touched the crease with care
    Upon his brow; I knew the touch she smoothed
    Across my eyes when I grew weary –
    Love! How life is broken
    By the treachery of games!
    And here I toss this wine
    Into the heedless dust
    There is none I truly cared to touch
    But you…
    There is none I loved as much
    As long as I remembered you.
    But treachery is made complete
    This day as madness reigns
    And this, I always knew…
    The second year of the fourth decade
    Will be seen unholy
    And the darkness will be beaming from their eyes
    For I saw a new Heaven, and a new Hell
    Arising from their places on the earth
    And she has made her choice so plainly
    As the harrowing is done
    And all the chaff is laid to fire,
    All the demons on the earth rejoice.
    The Damned, Returning

    When I have wearied
    Of the coldest precinct of my pain
    And I have done with this damnation,
    I will wake, and take on the garment of the blest;
    For holiness is an informed consent
    Acceptance of the will beneficent
    Is easy if forgiven
    But there is only one
    Who stands between myself and that return of heaven;
    Righteousness cannot be forced
    Upon the face of guilt.
    Yet who will love the million unforgiven?
    There are not enough of tears
    To weep for sins we cannot count
    So I will cease to count my sin
    As those who made it their career to count my sin
    Find better occupation
    There is rough economy in counting on the damned
    I do not care to measure in these ways of ignorance
    Best to take the coin of the unholy
    And place it in the offering of sin.
    There may be one who stands before me
    Waiting to be shriven;
    I am not the judge of men
    To whom such power is given.
    1:52 a.m.
    The Invocation of Basileus

    A great leader is a future king
    The prince who, in measuring aright
    Finds his merit lacking
    As today I find my merit lacking
    For I would be that leader
    Long I waited for release from pain
    To hold aloft the palm…
    This life was forged, as formerly,
    In darkness
    My fascination with depravity
    Is legend;
    Be it otherwise today, I rise
    No slave to wickedness, or shame
    No seller of my dignity to martyrdom
    I will not choose to throw myself to death
    For any cause that is unjust
    My place is here, among the noble
    And they have found me worthy
    I have said it in the hall of deity
    And thus it must be done
    I seek my place among the ranks
    Of those who raise the Sun.
    11-9-98 8:41 p.m.
    End of Volume I

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