


                                                                                           1801
          

          Paganism is by some estimates the fastest growing religion in North America and too
            few initiates.

                 Best of all: Thanks to science, we are not limited to what we know today.  We
            understand that even our best picture of reality is only an approximation, that we
            will have a better picture tomorrow.  This gift promises to upset the creeping
            authoritarianism that has ruined so many paths of initiation and created so many
            religions.

                 These are potent advantages.  I believe they allow us the possibility of
            success.  But not the certainty.  As we approach the crossroads, there are a number
            of things that need doing. Some of these steps are simply a matter of keeping our
            attitudes in the right places.  Others involve research, development, and artistic
            creation.  Others still involve magical tasks.  We need to understand that modern
            Paganism, though built on the past, is not limited by it, that we are capable of
            improving on our ancestor's wisdom  even to the extent that their wisdom is not a
            product of our own romantic imagination, which is large measure it is.  We need to
            recognize, once and for all, and say so, that our origin myths are just that: Wicca
            is not a survival from the pre Christian past, but an eclectic/creative construct
            meant to imitate what such a survival should ideally be.  Its resemblance, and that
            of Neopaganism in general, to ancient paganism in any of its multitude of forms is
            slight and ultimately besides the point.

                 We need to do these things because they will allow us to take the next step,
            which is to expand Paganism, as a path of initiation, to its potentia.  We cannot do
            that so long as we are locked into an old model  real or romanticized.  The
            initiatory paths of the past have failed. Therefore, we need something better than
            what has gone before.  We can take the essentials of Neopaganism, the broad strokes
            of its mythology and ritual, as a starting point, but we must go beyond that start.

                 First, we need to penetrate beneath the level of religious symbolism to what
            might be called the physics of magic, the nuts and bolts and laws of nature that
            account for what magic does and is.  Next to the initiatory experience itself, which
            can never be communicated or replaced by anything that point cannot be emphasized
            too much or too often  the physics of magic would be the deepest level of
            understanding, accounting for all forms of symbolic knowledge.  I have
            developed on system of laws which I believe to be workable.  (An account of those
            laws will appear in an upcoming issue of Enchante.)  It is the duty of
            every
            scientifically minded reader to rip them apart as best as
            possible, to test them, and improve on them.



                                                                                           1802
          


               Secondly, we need to improve our tool chest of spiritual methods.  Much of the
            work has already been done by initiates outside Paganism.  All we have to do is
            translate it and incorporate it within our own framework.  At the same time, an ex-
            panded and improved body of poetic ritual would be useful.

             Note from Ellen Cannon Reed:

            I received permission today from Skytoucher to upload the article
            preceding this message.  I found it one of the best articles on
            paganism I've found.  I do confess he is using paganism where I would
            use "Wicca", and I do not mentally apply what he says to the other
            pagan paths such as Asatru, but I do think the article is an important
            one with regard to Wicca.

            --- Maximus 2.00
             * Origin: Mysteria * Be ye mystic * 818-353-8891 (1:102/943)



                                                                                           1803
          

                                   Witches Rede of Chivalry 

            Magical Rites from the Crystal Well, Ed Fitch and Janine Renee, 1987, Llewellyn
            Publications.


            Insofar as the Craft of the Wise is the most ancient and most honorable creed of
            humankind, it behooves all who are Witches to act in ways that give respect to the
            Old Gods, to their sisters and brothers of the Craft, and to themselves.

             Therefore, be it noted that:

            1.  Chivalry is a high code of honor which is of most ancient Pagan origin, and must
            be lived by all who follow the old ways.

            2.  It must be kenned that thoughts and intent put forth on this Middle Earth will
            wax strong in other worlds beyond and return... bringing into creation, on this
            world, that which had been sent forth.  Thus one should exercise discipline, for "as
            ye plant, so shall ye harvest."

            3.  It is only by preparing our minds to be as Gods that we can ultimately attain
            godhead.

            4.  "This above all... to thine own self be true..."

            5.  A Witch's word must have the validity of a signed and witnessed oath.  Thus,
            give thy word sparingly, but adhere to it like iron.

            6.  Refrain from speaking ill of others, for not all truths of the
            matter may be known.

            7.  Pass not unverified words about another, for hearsay is, in large
            part, a thing of falsehoods.

            8.  Be thou honest with others, and have them know that honesty is
            likewise expected of them.

            9.  The fury of the moment plays folly with the truth; to keep one's
            head is a virtue.

            10. Contemplate always the consequences of thine acts upon others.
            Strive not to do harm.

            11. Diverse covens may well have diverse views of love between members
            and with others. When a coven, clan, or grove is visited or joined, one should
            discern quietly their practices, and abide thereby.

            12. Dignity, a gracious manner, and a good humor are much to be admired.

            13. As a Witch, thou has power, and thy powers wax strongly as wisdom
            increases. Therefore, exercise discretion in the use thereof.

            14. Courage and honor endure forever. Their echoes remain when the
            mountains have crumbled to dust.

            15. Pledge friendship and fealty to those who so warrant. Strengthen
            others of the Brethren and they shall strengthen thee.

            16. Thou shalt not reveal the secrets of another Witch or Coven. Others have labored
            long and hard for them, and cherish them as treasures.



                                                                                           1804
          

          17. Though there may be differences among those of the Old Ways, those
            who are once-born must see nothing, and must hear nothing.

            18. Those who follow the mysteries should be above reproach in the eyes of the
            world.

            19. The laws of the land should be obeyed whenever possible and within
            reason, for in the main they have been chosen with wisdom.

            20. Have pride in thyself and seek perfection in body and in mind. For
            the Lady has said, "How canst thou honor another unless thou give honor to thyself
            first?"

            21. Those who seek the Mysteries should consider themselves the select
            of the Gods, for it is they would lead the race of humankind to the highest of
            thrones and beyond the very stars.



                                                                                           1805
          

          _____________________________________________________________________
             _   _                                                      _   _
            ((___))                                                    ((___))
            [ x x ]                                                    [ x x ]
             \   /                                                      \   /
             (` ')                                                      (` ')
              (U)                                                        (U)
                                         HISTORY OF THE BOVINOMICON
                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                                by  The Raver
            
                                    >>> A CULT Publication......1988 <<<
                                      -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
                         __________________________________________________________


                 The history of the great Bovine mythos cycle is a lost and twisted one.  Of the
            tales of the Bovine unknown, one literary work, one tome of Bovinity, does stand
            out.  Yes, brutal reader, the BOVINOMICON.

                 This being a short but complete outline of the history of this book, its
            author, The Raver, presents this work.  The outline follows its various translations
            and editions from the time of the writing (AD 730) of the BOVINOMICON to the present
            day.

                      =================================================================

                 Original title AL AZIF - Azif being the word used by the Arabs to
            designate that nocturnal sound (made by Bovine creatures) supposed to be the howling
            of daemons.

                 Composed by Abdul Alhazred, a mad cow herder of Sanna, in Yemen,
            who is said to have flourished during the period of the Omminade Caliphs, circa AD
            700.  He visited the ruins of Babylon and the subterranean secrets of Memphis and
            spent ten years alone in the great
            southern desert of Arabia - (the Roba El Khaliyeh or "Empty Space" of
            the ancients and "Dahna" or "Crimson" desert of the modern Arabs) -
            which is held to be inhabited by protective evil spirits and monsters of death.  Of
            this desert many strange and unbelievable marvels are told by those who pretend to
            have penetrated it.  In his last years Alhazred dwelt in Damascus, where the
            BOVINOMICON (AL AZIF) was written, and of his final death or disappearance (AD 738)
            many terrible and conflicting things are told.  He is said by Ebn Khallikan (12th
            century biography) to have been seized by an invisible cow in broad daylight and
            devoured horribly before a large number of fright-frozen witnesses.  Of his madness
            many things are told.  He claimed to have seen the fabulous Irem, or City of
            Pillars, and to have found beneath the ruins of a certain nameless desert pasture
            the shocking annals and secrets of a race older than mankind.  (Editors Note: A full
            desc- ription of the nameless pasture, and the annals and secrets of its inhabitants
            will be found in the t-file THE NAMELESS PASTURE, written by the author of this
            outline).  He was only an indifferent Moslem, worshipping unknown Entities who he
            called Yog-Elsie and Bob-Sothoth.

                 In AD 950 the AZIF, which had gained considerable, though
            surreptitious circulation amongst the philosophers of the age, was
            secretly translated into Greek by Theodorus Philetas of Constantinople
            under the title BOVINOMICON. For a century it impelled certain
            experimenters to terrible attempts, when it was suppressed and burnt by the
            patriarch Michael.  After this it was only heard of furtively, but (1223) Olaus
            Wormius made a Latin translation later in the Middle Ages, and the Latin test was
            printed twice - once in the 15th century in black letter (evidently in Germany) and



                                                                                           1806
          

          once in the 17th (probably Spanish); both editions being without identifying marks,
            and located as to time and place by internal typographical evidence only.  The work,
            both Latin and Greek, was banned by Pope Gregory IX in 1232 shortly after its Latin
            translation, which called attention to it.  The Arabic original was lost as early as
            Wormius' time, as indicated by his prefatory note; (there is, however, a vague
            account of a secret copy appearing in San Francisco during the present century, but
            later perished in fire), and no sight of the Greek copy - which was printed in Italy
            between 1500 and 1550 - has been reported since the burning of a certain Salem man's
            library in 1692.  A translation made by Dr. Dee was never printed and exists only in
            fragments recovered from the original manuscript.  Of the Latin texts now existing,
            one (15th century) is known to be in the British Museum under lock and key, while
            another (17th century) is in the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris.  A 17th century
            edition is in the Widener Library at Harvard, and in the library at Miskatonic
            University at Arkham; also in the library of the University of Buenos Aires. 
            Numerous other copies
            exist in secret, and a 15th century one is persistently rumored to form a part of
            the collection of a celebrated American millionaire.  An even more vague rumor
            credits the preservation of a 16th century Greek text in the Salem family Pickman;
            but if it was so preserved, it vanished with the artist R.U. Pickman, who
            disappeared in 1926.  The book is rigidly suppressed by the authorities of most
            countries, and by all branches of organized ecclesiasticism.  Reading leads to
            terrible consequences.  It was from rumors of this book (of which relatively few of
            the general public know) that R.W. Chambers is said to have derived the idea of his
            early novel, "THE KING OF CUD".



                                                                                           1807
          


                              --------------------------------------
                                              CHRONOLOGY

            One - AL AZIF written circa AD 730 at Damascus by Abdul Alhazred.
            Two - Translated into Greek as BOVINOMICON, AD 950 by Theodorus       Philetas.
            Three - Burnt by Patriarch Michael AD 1050 (ie, Greek; Arabic text now       lost).
            Four - Olaus translates Greek into Latin, AD 1228.
            Five - Latin and Greek editions suppressed by Gregory IX - AD 1232.
            Six - 14..?  Black letter edition printed in Germany.
            Seven - 15..?  Greek text printed in Italy.
            Eight - 16..?  Spanish translations of Latin text.

                      ================================================================

                 PERSONS interested in learning more details about the nameless
            pasture mentioned in this outline, where Alhazred spent much time,
            should read the t-file THE NAMELESS PASTURE by THE RAVER, which gives a detailed
            description. The file is also a cDc communications release.

                 This t-file is dedicated to my favorite author, H.P. Lovecraft,
            who, now that we have had time to take his work into perspective, is, no doubt,
            unsurpassed as the twentieth century's best practitioner of the horror tale.

                 "No weird story can truly produce terror unless it is devised with all the care
            and versimilitude of an actual hoax."

                  -- H.P. Lovecraft to Clark Ashton Smith (17 October 1930)

                           ========================================================
                           (c)1988  cDc communications  by The Raver     4/22/88-57
                                            All Rights Worth Shit



                                                                                           1808
          

            ___________________________________________________________________ 
             _   _                                                      _   _ 
            ((___))                                                    ((___)) 
            [ x x ]                                                    [ x x ] 
             \   /                                                      \   / 
             (` ')                                                      (` ') 
              (U)                                                        (U) 
                                          THE NAMELESS PASTURE 
                                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
                             Scribed by The Raver, Teller of Strange Legends 
             
                                  >>> A CULT Publication......1988 <<< 
                                    -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc- 
                      ____________________________________________________________
             
             
                 The tales of the Bovine mythos cycle are strange and diverse.  Although some of
            our terrible order's members prefer to scribe tales of present day Bovinity, I opt
            for tales of a dark and terrible past, a time when the Bovine stalked the earth
            unheeded by mankind. 
             
                       "...The wailings of the mad are but the birth-cries of 
                       the new man - the old man gone like dust in the desert 
                       wind.  Cleansed of the lies of mankind, the new man - 
                       the man of darkness - is free to absorb the beauty of 
                       nothingness, to glory in the stark night of the utter 
                       void.  As your useless reason dissolves, rejoice in the 
                       knowledge that others in as diverse places as Texas and 
                       North Carolina have walked the same path, have drunk 
                       the same blood, have reveled in the same prospect of 
                       everlasting night, as you..." 
             
                                                -- Keeper of the Bovine Gate 
             
                'Tis true, we are evil in our potent writings and scriptures of the Cow. But
            this is only for a reason.  The following passage describes this point very well. 
            Much better than I could, indeed. 
             
                       "...You do not yet know the true gods.  Everything you 
                       know is a lie.  The Great Bovine Ones - these are the 
                       true rulers of the Universe; these and others you have 
                       not yet heard of will be the objects of your adulation, 
                       your emotion, your love.  You are the fortunate ones - 
                       the time may come, if you give your selfless devotion, 
                       that you will worship in the flesh in the Temples of 
                       the Nameless Pasture, whose glory is beyond your 
                       comprehension." 
             
                              -- Catechism of the High Priests of the Bovine 
             
                 The following tale is a true one and depicts the place that many Cultees desire
            to be... the dreaded Nameless Pasture, where Bob-Sothoth rules supreme and the blood
            of thousands runs rampant through the stalks of Cow-Bane.  This tale is not for the
            faint of heart.  Nay.  You have been forewarned. 
             



                                                                                           1809
          


                     ==========================================================
             
                 In a distant land, in a distant time, the mad arab, Abdul Alhazred, began  a
            horrific journey into the Roba El Kaliyeh ("Empty Space"), the vast desert of
            southern Arabia.  The time was AD 715 and Alhazred was quite mad.  After traversing
            the ruins of Babylon and the strange subterranean catacombs beneath the archaic
            ruins of Memphis who would not be?  Alhazred, in his demented mind, thought that the
            vast desert would allow him the peace and tranquility that he so desperately needed. 
            Unfortunately, this was not to be... 
             
                 As Alhazred traversed the shifting sands, his mind wandered back to the days
            when he was but a simple cow herdsman.  All was well, until that day... the day that
            he heard a cow utter the following phrase in an ancient tongue: "Ia! Ia! 
            Bob-Sothoth fhtagn!  Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Bob-Sothoth wgha-nagl fhtaga!"  Ever since
            that time seventeen years ago Alhazred had not been the same.  He had afterwards
            began a vast quest to discover why the cows he had herded had talked and exactly who
            and what Bob-Sothoth is... or was.  Alhazred began his quest almost a score of years
            ago and felt that he was close to the 
            ultimate answer.  During his nights with the cows those years past he had heard
            their urgent mooings.  What did they mean?  Were the cows possessed of daemons? What
            in the hell was going on? 
             
                 As Alhazred continued his bizarre cycle of thought he noticed not the paved
            stones peeking up at him from the sand below his sandled feet.  Only when he tripped
            on a large crack did he notice the fragmented pavement beneath him.  "What?" thought
            Alhazred.  A road in the middle of a vast expanse of desert? Filled with curiosity
            Alhazred decided it best to follow the ancient road. Soon darkness overtook the
            world and day became night. 
             
                 As the moon climbed higher in the sky he began to see that the slopes of 
            desert began to rise.  Urged by an impulse which he could definitely not 
            analyze, Alhazred scrambled with difficulty up the dunes...  Upon reaching the 
            top of the tremendous circle of dunes he stood silently, gazing into the 
            stygian depths where no light had yet penetrated. 
             
                 All at once his attention was captured by a vast and singular object on the
            opposite slope, which rose steeply about a hundred yards ahead of him; an object
            that gleamed brightly in the newly bestowed rays of the ascending moon.  He assured
            himself that it was merely a piece of gigantic stone; but he was conscious of an
            instinct impression that its contour and position were not altogether the work of
            Nature.  A closer scrutiny filled him with sensations he could not express; for
            despite its enormous magnitude, and its position in 
            an abyss which had yawned in the middle of a vast desert since the world was young,
            he perceived beyond a doubt that the strange object was a well-shaped monolith whose
            massive bulk had known the workmanship and perhaps the worship of living and
            thinking creatures. 
             



                                                                                           1810
          


               Dazed and frightened, yet not without a certain thrill of the scientist's or
            archaeologist's delight, Alhazred examined his surroundings more closely. 
            The moon, now near the zenith, shone vividly above the towering steeps that hemmed
            in the chasm revealed that far below rested a great area of flat land.  As he
            inspected the monolith more closely he noticed that, though eroded by the billowing
            sands, it was still identifiable as... a cow.  Footholds were aplenty and Alhazred
            began the laborious trek downwards into the vast chasm. 
             
                 As Alhazred dropped from a low ledge to the base of the chasm he uttered a
            slightly audible groan.  His feet had hit not sand but wheat.  As he regained his
            feet he surveyed his surroundings.  For hundreds of yards the great field reared
            into the distance.. far off he thought that he saw a mass of some sort but it was
            dark and he was unsure.  He slowly set off towards the mass.  Somewhere off in the
            distance he thought he heard the frenzied mooings of some unspeakable Bovine beast,
            but he convinced himself that it was probably just 
            the wind. 
             
                 When Alhazred was within earshot of the vast mass he did hear the frenzied
            mooings of some sort of beast.  Shaking with fear he moved closer only because of
            fear of what might be lurking around the vast pasture.  As he got closer he saw that
            the mass was indeed a building, a temple.. broken colonnades paraded around the
            temple and strange bas-reliefs covered its face...it was too dark to clearly make
            out what the reliefs depicted.  Alhazred began to circumvent the temple looking for
            some means of egress.  Soon he found a rubbled hole in 
            a wall.  The hole poured with a dim light and the smell of greasy smoke.  He
            crouched down so that he could peer inside. 
             
                 Inside he saw a vast chamber filled with a slime-coated liquid that was
            obviously water.  The chamber was dominated by a Cyclopean monolith, on whose
            surface he could now trace both inscriptions and crude sculptures.  The writing was
            in a system of hieroglyphics unknown to Alhazred, consisting for the most part of
            Bovine creatures and the like.  Several characters obviously represented beasts not
            of the modern world. 
             
                 It was the pictorial carving, however, that did most to hold him spell-bound. 
            Plainly visible across the intervening monolith on account of their enormous size
            was an array of bas-reliefs whose subjects would have excited the envy of a Dore. 
            He thought these things were supposed to depict cows - at least, a certain sort of
            cow; though the creatures were shown disporting like cows in great pastures, or
            paying homage at some monolithic shrine which appeared to be in a pasture as well. 
            Of their faces and forms he dared not speak in detail; for the mere remembrance mad
            him grow faint.  Grotesque beyond 
            the imagination of a Poe or a Bulwer, they were damnably Bovine in general outline
            despite loathsome tentacles, cilia covered with congealed slime, wide with flabby
            lips, glassy, bulbous eyes, and other features less pleasant to recall.  Curiously
            enough they seemed to be chiseled badly out of proportion with their scenic
            background.  Alhazred decided that they were merely the imaginary gods of some race
            lost in the vestiges of time.  Awestruck at this unexpected glimpse into the past,
            he stood musing whilst the moon cast queer reflections on the stone walls around
            him. 
             
                 Then he saw it.  With only a slight churning to mark its rise to the surface,
            the thing slid into view above the dark waters.  Vast, polyphemus-like, and
            loathsome, it darted like a stupendous monster of nightmares to the monolith, about
            which it flung its gigantic scaly tentacles, the while it bowed its hideously horned
            head and gave to certain measured mooings.  Alhazred went mad then. 
             
                 On his frantic ascent of the cliff and dune slopes, and of his delirious
            journey back to Damascus, he remembered little.  Alhazred sang a great deal, and



                                                                                           1811
          

          laughed oddly when unable to sing.  He had distinct recollections of a great storm
            some time after ascending out of the blasted heath in the middle of the Roba El
            Kaliyeh; at any rate, he knew that he heard peals of thunder and other tones which
            Nature utters only in her wildest moods. 
             
                      ================================================================
             
                 It was this experience that prompted Abdul Alhazred to scribe the original
            Arabic text, AL AZIF, later translated into the BOVINOMICON.  This rare work deals
            with many complex matters, including the idea that Bovine mooings are actually the
            language of daemons from the outer regions of the cosmos. 
             
                 "...do you dare imagine things as they can be?  As, indeed they will be when
            the earth is transformed and the illusion of reality is erased from the minds of men
            by the annihilation of those minds?  Do you live in hope to see Great Bob-Sothoth
            stride the earth?  Do you dream of the Throne of Yog-Elsie, of joining the faithful
            that mosh there?  O, purify yourselves, then, for these and greater things await you
            who are members of our terrible order..." 
             
            -- Part of a speech heard outside of a home in a Winston-Salem, NC, suburb 
             
             
              "The world is indeed comic, but the joke is on mankind." -- H.P. Lovecraft 
             
                          ======================================================== 
             (c)1988  cDc communications  by The Raver                4/22/88-58 
                                           All Rights Worth Shit 



                                                                                           1812
          


                                T H E   A U T O N O M A T R I X 
                                         Nascent Manifesto of 930111


            :: Symbolism & Design ::

            The name AutonomatriX is derived from the words autonomy and matrix to
            represent a self-directed and self-governing repository of information.  The emblem
            of the Auto-nomatriX is a circular blade with eight teeth providing a background to
            t he glyph of Eris turned on its side.

            The AutonomatriX is a networking chaos magic guild of those striving to discover and
            rejuvenate magical ideas and technical skills with success as the only key to
            validation. We do not discriminate on
            the basis of lifestyle, gender, affiliation, race, or sexuality. We seek to interact
            with creative magicians who are pushing boundaries instead of being trapped by them.
            We are a guild composed of working craftspeople, whereas an order/lodg e/clique is
            generally an exclusive
            membership of supplicants.

            The time of centralized info-banks is at an end; the nature of "classified" or
            "secret" information is that it is more often limiting than useful to the collector,
            and only profitable to the banker
            of such media.  Hierarchical structures are unnecessary and undesired; checks and
            balances regarding membership are determined by an individual's interaction with 
            the rest of the group rather than personal prejudices or acceptance for any member
            by any other member.  The principles "sink or swim" and "(inter)action equals life"
            are applicable to this magical guild, as in any network.

            :: Access to the AutonomatriX ::

            When a candidate has made intentional contact with a member of the AutonomatriX
            (called the "AX"), that member sponsors the candidate hirself and provides all
            pertinent information about that candidat
            e to another member as soon as is possible for co-sponsorship. Alternatively, if for
            any reason the member chooses not to sponsor the candidate after the initial
            inquiry, that member must send the
            information to two other members, one of whom is the member nearest to the
            candidate's geographic locale.  Ideally, the two sponsors would be geographically
            separated from one another.  All inquirers will be provided with the current AX
            manifesto by any member who accepts sponsorship of that candidate at the onset of
            their relationship. The suggested sponsorship period is three months, at the end of
            which the co-sponsors mutually decide upon whether or not initiation should take
            place.

            The sponsored candidate is requested to provide information regarding any personal
            magical work done in a journal or magical record.  The candidate may in turn be
            given any part of the Corpus Fecundi other than the Contacts Listing (see below)
            that the sponsors deem appropriate at any time. Initiation may be performed by one
            or both of the sponsors and/or an y other members of the AX with the consent of the
            sponsors. The candidate must provide a record of a magical working whi
            ch has resulted in mani-festation of the intent at least two times, and design a
            self-initiation ritual.  All initiation s must be performed in person.  At the
            climax of the initiation, the new member
            is handed the current Contacts Listing ( on a scroll) and the remainder of the
            Corpus Fecundi.

            :: The Corpus Fecundi ::



                                                                                           1813
          

          The Corpus Fecundi comprises a record of research, technical experimentation and
            ritual methods that have arisen since the emergence of this guild of Chaos.  The
            entirety of this information is provided only after a period of sponsorship
            resulting in initiation and excludes non-req uested information of a political or
            genealogical nature.

            It is the personal responsibility of each member of the AX to update their copy of
            the Corpus Fecundi as new information becomes available.  An active member of the AX
            is any person who is on the Contacts Listing. All information for inclus ion into
            the Corpus Fecundi is
            transferred throughout the network on at least a quarterly basis.

            The Corpus Fecundi consists of three parts, as follows:

            The first part is the "Contacts Listing," which includes all participants in the AX.
            All are listed by their appellation (any titles may be chosen), mailing address,
            Working Group and/or Project involvement information, and a brief biography (bio) of
            personal interests, researches, requests for information on any topic, etc.  To
            remain on the Contacts Listing each member is responsible for making their mem-
            bership known by interaction with other members. If for any reason this cannot be
            done, membership requires that the current AX curators are notified of continued
            participation in the net-work by a work record semi-annually.

            The second part is an "Index" of all works currently making up the Corpus Fecundi.
            All members are responsible for ensuring that their copy is complete via this Index.
            The author of each item will be
            listed here, rather than on the items themselves.

            :: The Curators ::

            The issuance of Contacts Listings and Indexes are provided by the AutonomatriX
            curators, who ensure that each display the name and emblem of the AX upon them. Two
            curators are randomly chosen on June
            27th of each year from volunteers to update and maintain securely the hard-copies
            and electronic copies of all material in the Corpus Fecundi. The Corpus Fecundi is
            maintained in its entirety in both formats at all times.  Any individual in the
            network may assume these responsibilities, although no curator may have successive
            terms of office.

            :: Working Groups ::

            Each member of the AX is encouraged to form autonomous Working Groups.  All WGs may
            be designated by whatever name (Coven, Project, Team, Clan, Temple, Group, Cabal,
            Tribe, etc.) deemed appropriate by those directly involved. A Working Group is
            composed of at least two active me mbers of the network and as many nonmembers as
            desired by them.



                                                                                           1814
          


          Each Working Group is inaugurated by the generation of its own unique
            manifesto, accepted by all participating in that WG. It must be distributed by the
            AX members of that group to all on the current Contacts Listing. This particular
            manifesto should be made as detailed as possible, to outline the WG's objectives and
            intent, protocol, any offices assumed within the WG's internal structure, and
            whatever else the WG decides upon.  Accompanying the manifesto should be each
            participant's signature (of their chosen appellation), mailing address, and bio. The
            AX will in no way interfere in matters of any Working Group's internal structure or
            protocol, with the fullest intention being to keep regulation to a minimum in
            regards to the network's guild structure.

            Each WG is encouraged to access any form of media available for wider
            distribution of ideas and material, and the AX pro vides encouragement and/or
            assistance to members who have material suitable for this purpose.

            :: Projects ::

            Projects or Operations which include any member of the AX within or without one's
            Working Group are to be listed in the Contacts List.  An "Operation" is usefully
            described as an extended working for a specific goal carried out by two or mo re
            members of the guild regardless of WG affiliation.

            :: Main Contact Points ::

            It is recommended that each WG and Operation designate a Main Contact Point (or MCP)
            elected by the members in that Working Group, for response to inquiries and
            distribution of information.  It is the responsibility of the acting MCP of that
            group to distribute all information for inclusion into the Corpus Fecundi of the
            members in hir Working Group and/or O peration.

            :: Information Transference ::

            Information is distributed throughout the entire active membership of the network in
            the issuance of the Contacts Listing and Index of the Corpus Fecundi by the AX
            curators. The authors of any item produced and distributed for inclusion into the
            Corpus Fecundi are responsible for the distribution of that information throughout
            the network. Any item may be marked "Private" by its author, and this is understood
            to mean distribution via the Corpus Fecundi only (not for public consumption). No
            items intended for the Corpus Fecundi may be marked with the
            author's appellation, although it is recommended that each item is accompanied by a
            cover letter providing whatever personal data the author or distributor desires.


            :: Voting ::

            When voting is required within the AX as a whole, all members must provide a written
            response of yes, no, or abstinence.  The votes of each member are then listed beside
            their name on the next Contacts Listing.  A measure's success depends upon at least
            a two-third's majority of all members of the AutonomatriX. All members are encour-
            aged to voice their own o pinions at all times.

            :: Identification ::

            The AX does not employ any single clue to disclose membership in the guild. 
            However, objects that are easily available are periodically chosen to represent
            active participation in the network, such as a certain semiprecious stone or a
            color-specific pen for example. At any time, suggestions may be supplied to a
            curator for random selection. The identifier is described as briefly as possible at
            the top of each Contacts Listing.  Aside from this, each WG and Operation is encou



                                                                                           1815
          

          raged to generate totems and/or fetishes to designate themselves symbolically within
            the guild.

            :: Accessories ::
            Each Working Group in the AX chooses what ritual accessories are necessary. Some may
            choose specific forms of jewelry or ritual garments as a group. Each member must
            possess the current identifier
            object of the AX in the working area at the time of any meeting attended.

            The AutonomatriX may be reached via

            Temple Babel
            PO Box 26362
            San Francisco, CA  94126
            Vox Mail: 415- 267-6937
             or via the
             PSYBERNET BBS: (805)772 AS IF



                                                                                           1816
          

                               ON THE NATURE OF THE AETHER 
             
                                     by: Anthra Andromda 
             
             
             
             
            [1]  The Anahat Shabd, the "soundless sound", is the subtlest element of  all.  It
            is the etheric essence, finer than earth, air, water, or fire,  beyond the speed of
            light... all pervasive, the source of cohesion, of electricity, of magnetism and
            gravitation, of all that exists.  
                       
            The modern physicist E.C.G. Sudarshan has described the etheric essence of the
            Anahat Shabd in scientific terms as follows:  
             
                      "The ether as superfluid is consistent with relativity and quantum theory. 
            It is the support of all light, in it all bodies exist,it is attached to none, it is
            ever present beyond the limitations of time and space.  It has no inertial
            qualities, no interactions, yet it is the very substance of illumination." 
                           E.C.G. Sudarshan (preprint, University of Texas, 1974) 
             
            Such is the Eastern view of the aether, in the west it has been given the following
            definition: 
             
            1. An imaginary substance regarded by ancients as filling all space and making up
            the stars, etc.  
             
            2. In physics, as a hypothetical, invisible substance, postulated as 
            pervading space and serving as the medium for the transmission of light and other
            energies. 
             
            This Aether has been theorized and expounded upon by metaphysists for hundreds,
            perhaps thousands of years (I have so far been unable to find the true source of the
            idea). Back in the 1600 there were several Aethers, but around 1638, Rene' Descartes
            postulated a single Aether that was "all-pervasive". 
             
            As recently as a hundred years ago this idea was quite popular, though now it is
            dismised by science, or at least most of science. There are now several physists who
            are beginning to develop theories about the universe that look for all the world
            like theories of the Aether, though, they are using different names for the very
            ideas that the ancient metaphysists proposed. 
             
             
            Consider these two exerpts from papers written by modern physists. They are  
            going to describe two "fields" that exist in their theories, and are in all  
            likelyhood what the ancients called; the Aether. 
              
            [2]    Space is filled  with  an  energy field, the energy concentration of which is
            extremely large (for the  layman,  the energy field in this lecture room could
            correspond to the energy of several bombs.) 



                                                                                           1817
          


            
                 This energy field  has  little  to  do with light  energy  or  solar energy,
            and instead  is  called the GRAVITON FIELD, TACHYON FIELD or NEUTRINO FIELD. 
              
                   There are two essential models of imagination for this field and the tachyon. 
            We are either dealing with  EXTREMELY  SHORT  WAVES  which possess VERY HIGH  ENERGY 
            electromagnetic  radiation,   or  we  are dealing with very  small  energy  units 
            which  display  a PULSATING BEHAVIOR which, in turn, determines their energy. 
              
                                                 [...] 
              
                   The majority of  them  (tachyons)  may  remain relatively stationary (these
            are called  BRADYONS)  and   because   of  their  OSCILLATORY BEHAVIOR (Prof. Seike
            calls it "trembling motion"        [Zitterbewegung]), they HAVE A GREAT AMOUNT OF
            ENERGY. 
              
                   This means that  ALL MATTER is immersed in an EXTREMELY DENSE ENERGY FIELD
            which we cannot percieve. 
              
              
              -------------------------------------------------------------------- 
                   Vangard note... 
              
                       Think of the Bradyon field in  its continuous jiggle as having a
            composition similar to syrup.  Rapidly moving Tachyons can  be thought of as water
            or gas. 
              
                       Comparison of  the  flow  speed  of the two fields shows how the Bradyon
            field could "sustain" the holographic (3d) image of the universe in a matrix of
            living energy. 
              
                       This opens up very interesting concepts relating  to Sheldrake's
            Morphogenetic Fields and Burrs' Electrodynamic Fields of Life. 
              
                   -------------------------------------------------------
              
              
            [3]                       QUANTUM MAGIC 
              
              
            REALITY AS DESCRIBED BY QUANTUM MECHANICS 
              
            In quantum mechanics, reality is described by waves defining the 
            probabilities of different outcomes from the same interactions. These waves manifest
            as what we have been taught to call matter, energy, particles, and/or waves when
            observed. 
              
            These probability waves overlap and continue forever.  The interactions between
            different entities constitute a single structure of linked wave patterns, so that
            the entire universe can be thought of as an unbroken whole. The waves form a matrix,
            with all parts of the system affecting all other parts.  Non-local relationships
            exist between parts of the system that are distant from each other.  It is
            impossible to distinguish two particles of the same type in a region of space in
            which they may be found simultaneously. Particles loose their individual identity in
            such regions.  Thus, the physical universe is fundamentally unified. 
              
                                                 [...] 
              
            SCIENTIFIC THEORY 



                                                                                           1818
          

            
          Mr. Walker's ideas and equations would only be hypotheses if it weren't for the fact
            that they have been tested experimentally and found to predict the results of
            experiments with reasonable accuracy [4].  The evidence meets the usual rules of
            proof for scientific theory, and this makes Walker's equations legitimate scientific
            theory. 
              
            The non-local underlying wave patterns beneath manifestations of matter and energy
            that we hold in common with our surroundings allow us to influence reality and to
            obtain information about it using the power of the mind.  This underlying
            interconnecting pattern is the very stuff of consciousness  and manifests, not only
            as matter & energy, but also as psychokinesis, precognition and other phenomenon
            that are only now beginning to be recognized and embraced by some theories of modern
            physics. 
             
              
                                                 [...] 
              
            Whatever the subtle level of reality underlying matter and energy, we are that
            (including our consciousness).  If hidden variables exist, we are the hidden
            variables.  It has been theorized that consciousness is an inseparable aspect of
            this underlying reality.  When our awareness connects with the deepest layer of
            reality interconnecting everything, we may experience the level of consciousness
            beyond time and form reported by many mystics.  It is this non local structure that
            we share with nature that makes it possible to "attune to nature," to psychically
            participate in nature, and to live in accordance with 
            it. 
              
            What we are usually aware of (normal waking consciousness) is a relatively
            superficial movement in the order of things.  Behind the things we are aware of in
            waking consciousness are a vast array of less strongly linked phenomena.  This
            latter realm is commonly called the unconscious (and parts of it the subconscious). 
            The unconscious is not very accurate, since it forms a kind of ground of conscious-
            ness.  Our awareness can link with this ground of consciousness to gain information
            and to influence events. 
             
                   ------------------------------------------------- 
              
            As may be seen from the two quotations above modern science is developing theories
            that are harmonious with the Thelemic concept of the Universe. True they are using
            different names for the particles and fields, but they are none the less the same. 
              
            It should be noticed in the above that one writer talks about a particle field,
            while the other writes about probability waves. These should not be confused -- it
            is entirely likely that these are one in the same -- much like the photon, which is
            alternately thought of as a particle and a wave -- yet it is still our mundane
            light. 
              
            This Tachyon field is in all likely-hood a field of Hadits -- after all Hadit is
            omnipresent. At any rate this does seem to fit into the current Thelemic and
            Enochian theories of that which underlies reality, and even in the worst case
            science is describing a field of RA-HOOR-KHUITs. This goes a long way to explaining,
            in modern scientific terms, why and how Magick works. 
             
                   --------------------------------------------------------- 
             
            It is Descartes' "All-pervasive Aether" or field of infinitely small particles that
            is becoming known as the Tachyon or neutrino field by modern science. 
             



                                                                                           1819
          

          In the Enochian theories, the universe is filled with a virtually infinite number of
            'infinitely small' points of consciousness, these are known as the 'Monad'. These
            Monads are the very stuff of which all things are made, and are in all likelyhood
            the 'fundimental particle' of modern science. These monads then would also be the
            'unit' particles which make up what the ancients called the aether, since at this
            level they would be indistinguishable from energy. They would also form a great
            'matrix' which would fill the material universe. 
             
            Since these particles are not only infinitely small, but are infinitely close
            together, any action on one given particle would have an effect on ALL others.  As
            was noted above; these particles are 'points' of consciousness. This brings to mind
            statements made by Hermes; The ALL is MIND (or something to that effect). If these
            infinitely small particles are indeed consciousness, then it would follow that the
            All or the Universe is mind. The universe would indeed be a living 'thinking'
            creature in itself -- this idea is consistant with the theories of Enochian Physics. 
             
            But I think I digress. As is pointed out above, modern physics is beginning to
            formulate theories that there is an 'all-pervasive' field or structure that includes
            and penetrates all things. This idea is harmonious with the ancient idea of the
            aether. Science postulates that this 'field' underlies all manifestion, the two
            exerpts above seem to agree on this point, as do the ideas of the aether. It seem to
            follow that the 'waves' that Mr. Cornett speaks of are what 'cause' what we call
            "physical manifestation", and that these waves are caused by mind (did the universe
            litterally 'think' itself into existance?). These waves could also be caused by
            aggreates of monads acting as a unit (the manifestation of an intelligent creature). 
             
                    The possibilities are endless, and all equally valid. So what does all this
            have to do with the price of tea in China? Just this; 
            1. It goes a long way in proving the Thelemic Cosmology, though we Thelemites would
            use different nomenclature. The Ideas of Nuit (infinite space) and Hadit (the
            infinitely small particle which fills and manifests Nuit) are beginning to be
            accepted by modern physics. The conjunction of these infinites, Ra-Hoor-Khuit, any
            and all events occuring within Nuit and Hadit, is therefore a 'given'. 
             
            2. It shows the mechanics of Magick. Since it can be observed that one consciousness
            affects another, it follows that one may affect the entire universe by simply
            'fixing' an idea in their consciousness. This may seem a bit over-simplified...it
            is! The process is not an easy one, however, the rituals and processes that have
            been given us by the ancients do begin to make some sense in the light of modern
            physics. It is these ancient mechanisms that allow us to put our mundane minds into
            the proper 'frame' and therefore 'excite' our consciousness, thus allowing us to
            have a 'physical' effect on 
            or enviroment. 
              
             
            References: 
             
            1.      S.S. Guruka Singh Khalsa, Research Associate 
                    Department of High Energy Physics 
                    Ohio State University 
                    Columbus, Ohio 
             
                    December 13, 1987 
             
            2.      The Symposium on Energy Technology in Hannover 
                    November 27 and 28, 1980 
              
                    Topic of the Symposium (Tachyon Field) 
                    Dr. Hans A. Nieper 
             



                                                                                           1820
          

          3.      AMARANTH  Vol. E.1.1: QUANTUM MAGIC 
                    An Electronic zine by  Larry Cornett   8/22/88 
             
            4.      Evan Harris Walker...Scientst and author. Worked for US Army 
                       Ballistic Research Labs. at Aberdeen Proving Ground, MD. He is the author
            on several papers and book concerning psychic              and other para-normal
            phenomenon. 
              
             
             



                                                                                           1821
          


          By: Dan Holdgreiwe 
            To: Adrienne 
            Re: Dangers of Deity? 
            ----------------------- 

             
            In the presence of the Goddess, Adrienne said to Dan Holdgreiwe: 
             
            PH> ...to suggest that the human psyche, confronted with the Divine PH> presence
            without being built up to sustain that impact, can frag       ment. 
             
            DH> I don't buy it, at least not in those terms. This sort of thing     makes for
            impressive sermons, but it does not correspond to the     Divine reality that I have
            experienced. 
             
              Ae> Then you're lucky.  I'm with Paul Hume on this one. 
             
            Well, I've been rethinking this myself, mostly because I realized that in other
            contexts I make a big deal about the "dangers" of confronting the Divine.  So why
            was I so critical of the dangers espoused by Paul and others? 
             
            A major reason, I beleive is that I was taking their statements too literally. I
            can't take the image of God as a high voltage line seriously.  For that matter, I
            find myself more and more disatisfied the the electrical metaphor that so permiates
            modern discussions of magic.  Words such as "charging," "grounding," and "energy"
            capture only one side -- and not the most important side -- of ritual work.  My over
            literal reading of their posts conjured up a ridiculous image in my mind, which I
            emphatically rejected. 
             
            Let me say instead that the dangers of encounter with the Divine are not electrical,
            but rather are moral and intellectual.  If one demands a relationship with Deity
            which exceeds one's moral maturity, one does indeed face serious risks.  I suspect
            that most of these risks are related to self-deception and self-indulgence, but I
            suppose that in extreme cases the damage to the personality could be more rapid. 
            All this, of course, presumes a basically healthy psyche. 
             
            On the other hand, approaching Deity often feels much more dangerous than it is.  We
            are likely to feel a great deal of fear as our pretensions and denials are stripped
            away by the appraoch of the Divine presence.  This feeling of fear is necessary and
            good, but it is fear of change as much as fear of real danger. 
             
              Ae> Traumatic not just for the unwilling.  I recently had a pries          tess of
            mine who did the Drawing Down for the first time and she        was profoundly
            disturbed by it.  Not in an unpleasant way, but         she's well trained and she
            still found the whole experience hard        to deal with on an emotional level.
            Some people can shrug it           off, others find it hard to incorporate into
            themselves.  Kinda        like losing one's virginity... 
             
            I wasn't thinking that "emotionally hard to deal with" was what Paul et al. meant by
            "zapped" or "crispy."  Certainly such experiences can be emotionally hard to deal
            with (although I have never found them so myself). 
             
              Ae> To be blunt, bullsh*t.  Sure it can.  The Gods sometimes force         us to
            prove our mettle, *especially* if we ask them to.  If we         are strong
            enough,fine.  If not... 
             
            Prove our mettle at what exactly?  Lightning bolts at fifty paces?  I probably agree
            with you, but I reject the idea that we are tested like transistors -- turn on the
            juice and throw away the ones that burn out. 



                                                                                           1822
          

           
            Ae> Besides, the biggest danger isn't in the presence of the Divine.        It's
            when the mage/priest *thinks* the Divine is there and is          deluded.  The
            unconscious mind will happily produce all sorts of        fantasies if you ask. 
             
            This I agree with 100% 
             
              Ae> It isn't a case of how effective the participants are, rather,         how
            ineffective.  Delusion is a stock in trade for the occult          arts. 
             
            Here you seem to have come around to my side.  Most dangers come not from the
            presence of the Gods, but rather from their absence.  An imaginary power line isn't
            dangerous, but an imaginary like with God/dess is. 
             
            Blessed Be 
            Dan 
             
            By: Paul Hume 
            To: Dan Holdgreiwe 
            Re: Re: Dangers of Deity? 
            ---------------------------- 
             
            Dan - 
             
            The zapped or crispy metaphor (hmmm, more Divine Electricity imagery) could include
            "emotional discomfort," though I find that to be so basic an element in dealing with
            Divine encounters (in my *vast* experience (g)), as the ego tries to relate to what
            has just happened, that I don't really consider it at issue. 
             
            Someone who shrugs and mutters "No big deal," whether they've Drawn Down a God for
            the first or five hundredth time has more of a problem, in my arrogant opinion, than
            someone who throws shrieking fits in the wake of the experience (assuming they get
            to stop screaming, eventually). 
             
            Yes, the crispness of the unprepared is, in fact, a metaphor for psychological
            disintegration, an explosion of "mundane consciousness" in the wake of an experience
            which blows the underpinnings out from under it. In a not uncommon example,
            priesthood who begin to expect, to demand, the reverence shown them when they are
            vessels of the Divine be shown them when they are not exercising their theurgic
            office. Whether it is a Wiccan HPS or a Catholic monsignor (or 
            what you will), this is a typical poison that can breed in the wake of the Divine
            invocation. 
             



                                                                                           1823
          


          Psychically, the Gods ARE high-voltage lines, whether you accept them as "real" or
            "mere archetypes," or whatever. They, by definition, function on a level of
            consciousness that is tremendously potent in the context of day-to-day awareness.
            And they may be as solicitous of humans as a human is when caring for a small and
            fragile animal, but They also do not exercise the same controls on humans that
            humans do on animals, and rarely force us to turn away from danger, though They try
            and protect us when we think to ask for it. 
             
            The fact that humanity contains (in my view) Divine potential in its own right
            allows for humans to confront Deity on its own plane, even at the cost of the
            present incarnation. 
             
            Paul 
             
            By: Dan Holdgreiwe 
            To: Paul Hume 
            Re: Re: Dangers of Deity? 
            -------------------------- 

            In the presence of the Goddess, Paul Hume said to Dan Holdgreiwe: 
             
              PH> The zapped or crispy metaphor (hmmm, more Divine Electricity          
            imagery) could include "emotional discomfort," though I find           that to be so
            basic an element in dealing with Divine encounters        (in my *vast* experience
            (g)), as the ego tries to relate to           what has just happened, that I don't
            really consider it at             issue. 
             
            Really?  My own experience has included more than a little emotional 
            discomfort, but almost all of it was in those periods when I wasn't receiving
            palpable confirmation that the work was acomplishing anything.  Breaking through to
            the Divine, on the other hand, is usually a joyful, ecstatic experience for me. 
             
            Part of this may be training (I spent about 10 unpleasant but productive years under
            the disipline of a very demanding spiritual group) and part of it may be a matter of
            pre-stripping the ego in anticipation of contact with the Divine (a less than common
            practice among Pagans, who tend tobe suspicious of anything that smacks of humility-
            ). 
             
              PH> Someone who shrugs and mutters "No big deal," whether they've          Drawn
            Down a God for the first or five hundredth time has more         of a problem, in my
            arrogant opinion, than someone who throws         shrieking fits in the wake of the
            experience (assuming they get        to stop screaming, eventually). 
             
            I would agree, but I find the more common reaction to be along the lines of "Oh,
            wow!" or even "Mmmmmmmmmmm, yes!"  Perhaps this means I'm not "plugged in" to the
            high-amp Deities (like maybe Cthulu). <g> 
             
            On a more serious note, I probably use an egregore that mediates the 
            relationship with God/dess in ways that make screaming fits less likely -- thought I
            suppose it could be disputed whether this was good or bad. 
             



                                                                                           1824
          


            PH> Yes, the crispness of the unprepared is, in fact, a metaphor for      
            psychological disintegration, an explosion of "mundane con            sciousness" in
            the wake of an experience which blows the under         pinnings out from under it.
            In a not uncommon example, pries           thood who begin to expect, to demand, the
            reverence shown them         when they are vessels of the Divine be shown them when
            they are        not exercising their theurgic office. Whether it is a Wiccan HPS     
              or a Catholic monsignor (or what you will), this is a typical          poison that
            can breed in the wake of the Divine invocation. 
             
            Ah, this is where your metaphor confuses me. You speak of an "explosion" but your
            example is more akin to a cancer -- not a dramatic shattering of the personality,
            but a gradual corruption.  The latter is a danger that I readily acknowledge. 
             
              PH> Psychically, the Gods ARE high-voltage lines, whether you accept       them as
            "real" or "mere archetypes," or whatever. They, by       definition, function on a
            level of consciousness that is treme      ndously potent in the context of
            day-to-day awareness. 
             
              PH> The fact that humanity contains (in my view) Divine potential in       its own
            right allows for humans to confront Deity on its own       plane, even at the cost
            of the present incarnation. 
             
            The Lord and Lady are indeed potent, but their energy is wisely controlled.  Each of
            us, hoever, is a high-voltage line in much less capable hands.  I believe it is not
            God/dess, but our own Divine potential which will "zap" us if we are careless in its
            use. 
             
            Blessed Be 
            Dan 
             



                                                                                           1825
          

                      RITUALS AND SPELL OBJECTIVES AND DESIGN IN EIGHT MAGICS 
                                               by Pete Carroll

            Our perceptual and conceptual apparatus creates a fourfold division
            of matter into the space, time, mass, and energy tautology.
            Similarly, our instinctual drives create an eightfold division of
            magic. The eight forms of magic are conveniently denoted by colours
            having emotional significance:

                                       OCTARINE,
                                      PURE MAGIC
                      RED,                                BLACK,
                      WAR MAGIC          ÛÛÛ±             DEATH MAGIC
                                         ÛÛÛ±
                         ÛÛ±             ÛÛÛ±             ÛÛ±
                            ÛÛ±        ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ±        ÛÛ±
                               ÛÛ±  ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ±  ÛÛ±
                                  ÛÛÛ C H A O S ÛÛÛ±
                                 ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ BOX ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ±
             ORANGE,   ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ BLUE,
             THINKING  ßßßßßßßßÛÛÛÛÛ THE MAGICAL ÛÛÛÛÛßßßßßßßß WEALTH MAGIC
             MAGIC               ÛÛÛÛÛ MAILBOX ÛÛÛÛÛÛ±
                                  ÛÛÛ04962577966ÛÛÛÛ±
                               ÛÛ±  ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ±  ÛÛ±
                            ÛÛ±        ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ±        ÛÛ±
                         ÛÛ±             ÛÛÛ±             ÛÛ±
                                         ÛÛÛ±
                      PURPLE or          ÛÛÛ±             GREEN,
                      SILVER,                             LOVE MAGIC
                      SEX MAGIC         YELLOW,
                                       EGO MAGIC

            The eight types of magic can be attributed to the seven classical
            "planets", plus Uranus for Octarine. However in the cause of
            expanding the parameters of what can be attempted with each of these
            forms of magic, such an attribution will largely be avoided. The
            eight forms of magic will each be considered in turn.


            OCTARINE MAGIC

            Following Pratchett's hypothesis, the eighth colour of the spectrum,
            which is the magicians personal perception of the "colour of magic",
            may be called octarine. For me, this is a particular shade of
            electric pinkish-purple. My most signifikant optical visions have
            all occured in this hue, and I visualise it to colour many of my
            more important spells and sigils on the astral. Before I set sail in
            a handmade open boat through the Arabian Sea I was tricked into
            accepting a huge and priceless star ruby by a wizard in India. It
            was of an exactly octarine hue. During the most violent typhoon I
            have ever experienced I found myself shrieking my conjurations to
            Thor and Poseidon whilst clinging to the bowsprit as mountainous
            waves smashed into the boat and octarine lightning bolts crashed
            into the sea all around. Looking back it seems miraculous  that I
            and my crew survived. I have kept the octarine stone, uncertain as
            to whether it was passed to me as a curse, a joke, a blessing, or a
            test, or all of these things.



                                                                                           1826
          


          Other magicians perceive octarine in different ways. My personal
            perception of octarine is probably a consequence of sex (purple) and
            anger (red) being my most effective forms of gnosis. Each should
            seek out the colour of magic for himself.

            The octarine power is our instinctual drive towards magic, which, if
            allowed to flower, creates the magician self or personality in the
            psyche, and in affinity with various magician god forms. The
            "Magician Self" varies naturally between magicians, but has the
            general characteristics of antinomianism and deviousness, with a
            predilection for manipulation and the bizarre. The antinomianism of
            the magician self arises partly from the general estrangement of our
            culture from magic. The magicial self therefore tends to take an
            interest in everything that does not exist, or should not exist,
            acording to ordinary consensus reality. To the magician self,
            "Nothing is Unnatural". A statement full of endless meanings. The
            deviousness of the magician self is a natural extension of the
            sleight of mind required to manipulate the unseen. The god forms of
            the octarine power are those which correspond most closely with the
            characteristics of the magician self, and are usually the magicians
            most important modes of possession for purely magical inspiration.
            Baphomet, Pan, Odin, Loki, Tiamat, Ptah, Eris, Hekate, Babalon,
            Lilith and Ishtar are examples of god forms which can be used in
            this way.

            Alternatively the magician may wish to formulate a magician god form
            on a purely idiosyncratic basis, in which case the symbolism of the
            serpent and the planet Uranus often prove useful starting points.

            The magician can invoke such god forms for the illumination of
            various aspects of the magical self, and for various works of pure
            rather than applied magic. The category of pure magic includes such
            activities as the development of magical theories and philosophies,
            and magical training programs, the devising of symbolic systems for
            use in divinations, spells and incantations, and also the creation
            of magical languages for similar purposes. It is worth noting here
            that chaos-magical languages are usually now written in V-Prime
            before transliteration into magical barbaric form. V-Prime or
            Vernacular Prime is simply one's native tongue in which all use of
            all tenses of the verb "to be" is omitted in accordance with quantum
            metaphysics. All the nonsense of transcendentalism disappears quite
            naturally once this tactic is adopted. There is no being, all is
            doing.

            The octarine power is invoked to inspire the magician self and to
            expand the magicians primary arcana. The primary personal arcana
            consists of the fundamental symbols with which he interprets and
            interacts with reality (whatever that may assault perception as),
            magically. These symbols may be theories or kabbalas, obsessions,
            magical weapons, astral or physical, or indeed anything which
            relates to the practice of magic generally, that is not dedicated
            specifically to one of the other powers of applied magic, whose
            symbols form the secondary personal arcana of magic.



                                                                                           1827
          


          From the vantage point of the octarine gnosis, the magician self
            should be able to perceive the selves of the other seven powers, and
            be able to see their interrelationship within his total organism.
            Thus the octarine power brings some ability in psychiatry, which is
            the adjustment of the relationship between the selves in an
            organism. The basis difference between a magician and a civilian is
            that the latter the octarine power is vestigial or undeveloped. The
            normal resting or neutral mode a civilian corresponds to a mild
            expression of the yellow power which he regards as his normal
            personality or "ego". The magician self however, is fully aware that
            this is but one of eight major tools that the organism possesses.
            Thus, in a sense, the "normal personality" of the magician is a tool
            of his magical self (and, importantly, vice versa). This realisation
            gives him some advantage over ordinary people. However the
            developing magical self will soon realize that it is not in itself
            superior to the other selves that the organism consists of, for
            there are many things they can do which it cannot.

            The development of the octarine power through the philosophy and
            practice of magic tends to provide the magician with a second major
            centre amongst the selves to complement the ego of the yellow power.
            The awakening of the octarine power is sometimes known as "being
            bitten by the serpent". Those who have been, are usually as
            instantly recognisable to each other as, for example, two lifeboat
            survivors are.

            Perhaps one of the greatest tricks of sleight of mind is to allow
            the magician self and the ego to dance together within the psyche
            without undue conflict. The magician who is unable to disguise
            himself as an ordinary person, or who is unable to act independently
            of his own ego, is no magician at all.

            Nevertheless, the growth of the octarine, or eighth power of the
            self, and the discovery of the type of magician one wants to be, and
            the identification or synthesis of a god form to represent it, tend
            to create something of a mutant being, who has advanced into a
            paradigm that few others are aware of. It is not easy to turn back
            once the jouney has begun, though quite a few have tried to abort
            the voyage with various narcotics including mysticism. It is a
            pilgrimage to an unknown destination, in which one awakes
            successively from one nightmare into another. Some on them appear
            vastly entertaining at the time. There are worlds within us, the
            abysses are just the initiations in between them.

            The evocation of an octarine servitor can create an invaluable tool
            for those engaged in magical research. The main functions of such
            entities are usually to assist in the discovery of useful
            information and contacts. Negative results should not be ignored
            here, the complete failure of a well prepared servitor to retrieve
            information about the hypothetical cosmic "big bang", was a
            contributory factor in the development of the Fiat Nox theory, for
            example.



                                                                                           1828
          

          BLACK MAGIC

            The Death programs built into our genetic and hence behavioral and
            emotional structure are the price we pay for the capacity for sexual
            reproduction which alone allows for evolutionary change. Only
            organisms which reproduce asexually, to replicate endless identical
            copies of their very simple forms, are immortal. Two conjunctions
            with the black power are of particular interest to the magician: the
            casting of destruction spells and the avoidance of premature death.

            So called "Chod" rites are a ritual rehearsal of death in which the
            Death-self is invoked to manifest its knowledge and wisdom.
            Traditionally conceived of as a black robed skeletal figure armed
            with a scythe, the Death-self is privy to the mysteries of ageing,
            senescence, morbidity, necrosis, entropy and decay. It is often also
            possessed of a rather wry and world weary sense of humour.

            Surrounding himself with all the symbols and paraphernalia of death,
            the magician invokes his Death-self in a Chod rite for one of the
            two purposes. Firstly the experience of the Death-self and the black
            gnosis brings the knowledge of what it feels like to begin dying and
            thus prepares the magician to resist the manifestation of actual
            premature death in himself and perhaps others by, as it were,
            knowing the enemy. A demon is just a god acting out of turn. In the
            course of various Chod rites the magician may well experiment in
            shamanic style by invoking into himself the visualised entities and
            symbols that he associates with various diseases, to practice
            banishing them. Thus the Death-self has some uses in medical
            diagnosis and divination.

            Secondly, the death-self may be invoked as a vantage point from
            which to cast destruction spells. In this case the invocation takes
            the same general form but the conjuration is usually called an
            Entropy Rite. One should always look for any possible  alternative
            to the exercise of destructive magic, for to be forced into the
            position of having to use it is a position of weakness. In each case
            the magician must plant in his subconscious a mechanism by which the
            target could come to grief and then project it with the aid of a
            sigil or perhaps an evoked servitor. Entropy magic works by sending
            information to the target which encourages auto-destructive
            behaviour.

            Entropy magic differs from Combat magic of the Red Gnosis in several
            important respects. Entropy magic is always performed with complete
            stealth in the cold fury of the black saturine gnosis. The aim is a
            cold blooded surgical strike of which the target is given no
            warning. The magician is not interested in getting into a fight,
            merely in a quick and efficient kill. The supreme advantage of such
            attacks is that they are rarely perceived as such by the targets who
            have nothing but themselves and blind chance to blame for the
            disasters which even magnanimity in victory does little to assuage.
            One disadvantage however, is that it is rather difficult to present
            invoices to clients for effects that appear to be due entirely to
            natural causes.



                                                                                           1829
          

          God forms of the black power are legion; if the simple form of a
            cloaked skeleton with scythe does not adequately symbolise the
            Death-self then such forms as Charon, Thanatos, Saturn, Chronos,
            Hekate the Hag, Dark sister Atropos, Anubis, Yama and Kali may
            serve.

            Servitors of the black power are rarely established for long term
            general use, partly because their use is likely to be infrequent and
            partly because they can be danger to their owner, thus they tend to
            be made and dispatched for specific single tasks.

            BLUE MAGIC

            Wealth is not to be measured in terms of assets, but rather in terms
            of how much control over people and material, and thus ultimately
            one's own experiences, one achieves by economic activities. Money is
            an abstract concept used to quantify economic activity, thus wealth
            is a measure of how well you control your experiences with money.
            Assuming that varied, exciting, unusual and stimulating experiences
            are preferable to dull ones, and that they tend to be expensive for
            this reason, then the main problem for most people is to find a
            highly efficient form of money input which has the above agreeable
            qualities. The aim of wealth magic is to establish a large turnover
            of money which allows agreeable experiences at both the input and
            output stages. This demands what is called Money Consciousness.

            Money has acquired all the characteristics of a "spiritual" being.
            It is invisible and intangible, coinage, notes and electronic
            numbers are not money. They are merely representations or talismans
            of something which economists cannot coherently define. Yet although
            it is itself intangible and invisible it can create powerful effects
            on reality. Money has its own personality and idiosyncratic tastes,
            it avoids those who blaspheme it, and flows towards those who treat
            it in the way it likes. In a suitable environment it will even
            reproduce itself. The nature of the money spirit is movement, money
            likes to move. If it is hoarded and not used, it slowly dies. Money
            thus prefers to manifest as turnover rather than as unexploited
            assets. Monies surplus to immediate pleasure should be re-invested
            as a further evocation, but the truly money conscious find that even
            their pleasures make money for them. Money consciousness gets paid
            to enjoy itself. Those in money consciousness are by nature
            generous. Offer them an interesting investment and they will offer
            you a fortune. Just don't ask for small cash handouts.

            The attainment of money consciousness and the invokation of the
            Wealth-self consists of the acquisition of a thorough knowledge of
            the predilections of the spirit of money and a thorough exploration
            of personal desires. When both of these have been understood, real
            wealth manifests effortlessly.



                                                                                           1830
          

          Such invocations must be handled with care. The blue gnosis of
            wealth and desire creates demons as easily as gods. Many
            contemporary success and sales seminars concentrate on creating an
            hysterical desire for money coupled with an equally hypertrophied
            desire for the mere symbols of wealth rather than the experiences
            the punters actually want. To work like a possessed maniac all day
            for the questionable pleasure of drinking oneself into near oblivion
            on vintage champagne every night, is to have missed the point
            entirely and to have a entered a condition of anti-wealth.
            However, the majority of those who are poor in relatively free
            societies where others are rich, owe their poverty either to a lack
            of understanding of how money behaves, or to negative feelings which
            tend to repel it. Neither intelligence nor investment capital are
            required in any great degree to become wealthy. The popularity of
            tales about the misery and misfortunes of the rich is testimony to
            the ridiculous myth prevalent amongst the poor, that the rich are
            unhappy. Before beginning works of blue magic it is essential to
            seriously examine all negative thoughts and feelings about money and
            to exorcise them. Most of the poor people who win in lotteries, and
            only the poor regularly enter them, manage to have nothing to show
            for it a couple years later. It is as if some subconscious force
            somehow got rid of something they felt they did not really deserve
            or want. People tend to have the degree of wealth that they deeply
            believe they should have. Blue magic is the modification of that
            belief through ritual enactment of alternative beliefs.

            Blue magic rituals may thus involve exorcisms of negative attitudes
            to wealth, divinatory explorations of one's deepest desires, and
            invocations of the Wealth-self and the spirit of money during which
            the subconscious wealth level is adjusted by ritual expression of a
            new value, and affirmations of new projects for the investment of
            resources and efford are made. Hymns and incantations to money can
            be delivered. Cheques for startling sums can be written to oneself
            and desires can be proclaimed and visualised. Various traditional
            god forms with a prosperity aspect can be used to express the
            Wealth-self such as Jupiter, Zeus and the mythical Midas and
            Croesus.

            Simple money spells are rarely used in modern blue magic. The
            tendency nowadays is to cast spells designed to enhance schemes
            designed to make money. If one fails to provide a mechanism through
            which money can manifest then either nothing will happen or the
            spell will flesh by strange means, such as a legacy from the
            untimely death of a much beloved relative for example. Serious blue
            magic is never attempted by conventional forms of gambling.
            Conventional gambling is an expensive way of buying experiences
            which have nothing to do with increasing one's wealth. Blue magic is
            a matter of carefully calculated investment. Anyone but a fool
            should be able to devise an investment that offers better odds than
            conventional forms of gambling.



                                                                                           1831
          

          RED MAGIC

            As soon as humanity developed the organisation and weapons
            technology to defeat its main natural predators and competitors it
            seems to have applied a fierce selection mechanism to itself in the
            form of internecine warfare. Many of the qualities we regard as
            marks of our evolutionary success, such as our opposable thumbs and
            tool handling abilities, our capacity for communication by sound,
            our upright posture, and our capacity to give and receive commands
            and discipline, were almost certainly selected for during millennia
            of organized armed conflict between human bands. Our morality
            reflects our bloody history, for whilst it is taboo to attack
            members of one's own tribe, it remains one's duty to attack
            foreigners. The only debate is over who constitutes one's own tribe.
            When enthusiasm for war is limited, we devise sports and games in
            which to express our aggression. From the whole ethos and
            terminology of sport it is plain that sport is just war with extra
            rules.

            However, it should not be supposed that war is completely without
            rules. Wars are fought to improve one's bargaining position; in war
            the enemy group is a resource that one wishes to gain some measure
            of control over. Wars are fought to intimidate one's adversaries,
            not to exterminate them. Genocide is not war.

            The structure and conduct of war reflects the "fight or flight"
            program built into our sympathetic nervous system. In battle, the
            aim is to intimidate the enemy out of the fight mode and into flight
            mode. Thus, assuming there is sufficient parity of force to make a
            fight seem worthwhile to both parties, morale is the decisive factor
            in conflict. Indeed, it is the decisive factor in virtually any
            inter-human competitive, sporting or military encounter.

            Red magic has two aspects, firstly the invocation of the vitality,
            aggression, and morale to sustain oneself in any conflict from life
            in general to outright war, and secondly the conduct of actual
            combat magic. A variety of god forms exist in which the War-self can
            be expressed, although hybrid or purely idiosyncratic forms work
            just as well. Ares, Ishtar, Ogoun, Thor, Mars, Mithras and Horus in
            particular are often used. Contemporary symbolism should not be
            neglected. Firearms and explosives are as welcoming to the red
            gnosis as swords and spears. Drums are virtually indispensable.
            Sigils drawn in flammable liquids, or indeed whole flaming circles
            in which to invoke should be considered.

            Combat magic is usually practised openly with the adversary being
            publicly threatened and cursed, or finding himself the recipient of
            an unpleasant looking talisman, spell or rune. The aim is
            intimidation and control of one's adversary who must therefore be
            made as paranoid as possible and informed of the origin of the
            attack. Otherwise combat magic takes the same general form as that
            used in Entropy Rites, with sigils and servitors carrying
            auto-destructive information to the target, although with sub-lethal
            intent.

            However, the real skill of red magic is to be able to present such
            an overwhelming glamour of personal vitality, morale and potential
            for aggression that the exercise of combat magic is never required.



                                                                                           1832
          

          YELLOW MAGIC

            Most of the extant texts on what is traditionally called "solar
            magic", contradict each other or suffer from internal confusion.
            Astrological commentaries on the supposed powers of the sun are
            amongst the most idiotic nonsense that discipline can produce. This
            is because the yellow power has four distinct but related forms of
            manifestation within the psyche. This fourfold division has led to
            immense problems in psychology, where various schools of thought
            have chosen to emphasise one in particular and to ignore those which
            other schools have alighted upon.

            The four aspects can be characterised as follows. Firstly the Ego,
            or self image, which is simply the model the mind has of the general
            personality, but excluding most of the extreme behaviour patterns
            that the selves are capable of. Secondly Charisma, which is the
            degree of self-confidence that a person projects to others. Thirdly,
            something for which there is no single English term, but which can
            be called Laughter-Creativity. Fourthly, the urge to Assertion and
            Dominance. All these things are manifestations of the same yellow
            power; although their relative emphasis varies greatly between
            individuals.

            Success in most human societies usually results from a skilful
            expression of the yellow power. The strength of the yellow power in
            an individual seems to bear a direct relationship to levels of the
            sexual hormone testosterone in both sexes; although its expression
            depends on personal psychology. There is a complex interplay
            between testosterone levels, self image, creativity, social status
            and sexual urges, even if they are unexpressed. In esoteric terms,
            the moon is the secret power behind the sun, as most female
            magicians realise instinctively, and most male magicians discover
            sooner or later. The Ego gradually accretes through the accidents of
            childhood and adolescence, and, in the absence of particularly
            powerful experiences thereafter, remains fairly constant even if it
            contains highly dysfunctional elements. Any type of invocation
            should make some difference to the ego, but direct work with it can
            achieve much more. Several tricks are involved here. The very
            recognition of the ego implies that change is possible. Only those
            who realize that they own a personality rather than consis of a
            personality, can modify it. For most people a preparation of a
            detailed inventory of their own personality is a very difficult and
            unsettling activity. Yet once it is done it is usually quite easy to
            decide what changes are desirable.

            Changes to the Ego or self image or personality by magic are classed
            as works of Illumination and are mainly accomplished by Retroactive
            Enchantment and Invocation. Retroactive Enchantment in this case
            consits of re-writing one's personal history. As our history largely
            defines our future, we can change our future by redefining our past.
            Everybody has some capacity to re-interpret things which were
            considered to have gone wrong in the past in a more favourable
            light, but most fail to pursue the process to the full. One cannot
            eliminate disabling memories, but by an effort of visualisation and
            imagination one can write in parallel enabling memories of what
            might also have happened, to neutralise the originals. One can also,
            where possible, modify any remaining physical evidence that favours
            the disabling memory.



                                                                                           1833
          

          Invocations to modify the ego are ritual enchantments and
            personifications of the new desired qualities. Attention should be
            given to planned changes of dress, tone of speech, gesture,
            mannerisms and body posture which will best suit the new ego. One
            manoeuvre frequently used in yellow magic is to practice the
            manifestation of an alternative personality with a specific mnemonic
            trigger, such as the transference of a ring from one finger to
            another.

            Various god forms such as Ra, Helios, Mithras, Apollo and Baldur are
            useful to structure fresh manifestations of the ego, and for
            experiments with the other three qualities of the yellow power.

            Charisma, the projection of an aura of self confidence, is based on
            a simple trick. After a short while there is no difference at all
            between the pretence and the actuality of self confidence. Anyone
            wishing to remedy a lack of confidence and charisma, and uncertain
            as to how to begin pretending to these qualities, may find that a
            day or two spent pretending to absolute zero self confidence will
            quickly reveal both the effectiveness of pretence and the specific
            thoughts, words, gestures and postures required to project either
            pretence.

            Laughter and Creativity may not immediately seem to be related, but
            humour depends on the sudden forging of a new connection between
            disparate concepts, and we laugh at our own creativity in forging
            the connection. Exactly the same form of elation arises from other
            forms of creative activity, and if the insight comes suddenly,
            laughter results. If you don't laugh when you see a seriously
            brilliant piece of mathematics then you have not really understood
            it. It also take a degree of positive self-esteem and confidence to
            laugh at something creatively funny. Persons of low self-esteem tend
            only to laugh at destructive humour and the misfortunes of others,
            if they laugh at all.

            Laughter is often an important factor in the invocations of the god
            forms of the yellow power. Solemnity is not a prerequisite for
            ritual. Laughter is also a useful tactic in drawing conscious
            attention away from sigils or other magical conjurations once they
            are finished with. The deliberate forcing of hysterical laughter may
            seem an absurd way of ending an enchantment or an invocation, but it
            has been found to be remarkably effective in practice. This is yet
            another sleight of mind manoeuvre which prevents conscious
            deliberation.

            The "pecking order" within most groups of social animals is usually
            immediately obvious to us, and the animals themselves. Yet within
            our own society such dominance hierarchies are equally prevalent
            within all social groups; although we go to quite extreme lengths to
            disguise this to ourselves. The human situation is further
            complicated by the tendency of individuals to belong to many groups
            in which they may have different degrees of social status, and
            status is often partly dependent on specialist abilities other than
            displays of naked force.



                                                                                           1834
          

          However, assuming that a person can appear competent in the
            specialist ability that a social group requires, that person's
            position in the group depends almost entirely on the degree of
            assertion and dominance that person exhibits. It is basically
            exhibited through non-verbal behaviour which everybody understands
            intuitively or subconsciously but which most people fail to
            understand rationally. As a consequence they cannot manipulate it
            deliberately. Typical dominance behaviours involve talking loudly
            and slowly, using lots of eye contact, interrupting the speech of
            others whilst resisting the interruption of others, maintaining an
            upright posture of concealed threat, invading the personal space of
            others whilst resisting intrusion into one's own, and placing
            oneself strategically in any space at the focus of attention. In
            cultures where touching is frequent, the dominant always initiate
            it, or pointedly refuse it. Either way, they control it.

            Submissive behaviour is of course the reverse of all the above, and
            appears quite spontaneously in response to successful dominance from
            others. There is a two way interaction between dominance behaviour
            and hormone levels. If the levels change for medical reasons then
            the behaviour tends to change, but more importantly, from a magical
            point of view, a deliberate change of behaviour will modify hormone
            levels. Fake it till you make it. There is nothing particularly
            occult about the way some people are able to control others. We
            simply fail to notice how it is done because nearly all the
            behavioural signals involved are exchanged subconsciously. Dominance
            signals do not tend to work if their recipients perceive them
            consciously. Thus in most situations they must be delivered subtly
            and with gradually increasing intensity. One of the few situations
            where such signals are exchanged deliberately is in military
            hierarchies, but this is only possible because of the immense
            capacity for direct physical coercion that such systems exhibit.
            Break the formal rules of non-verbal communication with an officer
            and he will have a sergeant instil some submission by direct means.
            Eventually the formal rules become internalised and function
            automatically, allowing enough obedience to permit mass
            self-sacrifice and slaughter. The yellow power is the root of most
            of the best and the worst of what we are capable.

            GREEN MAGIC

            There is inevitable a considerable overlap in what is written in
            popular magic books on the subject of venusian (love) and lunar
            (sex) magic. Consequently a planetary nomenclature has been largely
            avoided in this text. Although love magic is frequently performed in
            support of sexual objectives, this chapter will confine itself to
            the arts of making other people friendly, loyal and affectionate
            towards oneself.

            Friends are probably anyone's greatest asset. My adress book is
            easily my most valuable possession. As with erotic attraction, it is
            first necessary to like oneself before others will. This ability can
            be enhanced by appropriate invocations of the green power. Most
            people find it easy to elicit friendliness from people that they
            like themselves; but making persons who are not disposed to
            friendship towards you, become friendly, and making persons who you
            do not like at all friendly towards you, are valuable abilities. An
            unreciprocated friendship is a disability only to the person
            offering it.



                                                                                           1835
          

          Invocations to the green power should begin with self-love; an
            attempt to see the wonderful side of every self one consists of, and
            then proceed into a ritual affirmation of the beauty and loveability
            of all things and all people. Suitable god forms for the Love-self
            include Venus, Aphrodite and the mythical Narcissus, whose myth
            merely reflects a certain male prejudice against this type of
            invocation.

            From within the green gnosis, spells to make people friendly may be
            cast by simple enchantment or by the use of entities created for
            this purpose. However it is in face to face meetings that the
            empathic abilities stimulated by the invocation work most
            effectively. Apart from the obvious manoeuvres of showing interest
            in everything the target has to say and affirming and sympathising
            with most of it, there is another critical factor called "behavioral
            matching", which usually takes place subconsciously. Basically, in
            the absence of overtly hostile postures on the part of the target,
            one should attempt to match the non-verbal behaviour of the target
            precisely. Sit or stand in the identical bodily posture, make the
            same movements, use the same degree of eye contact, and talk for
            similar intervals. As with dominance behaviour, such signals only
            work if they are not consciously perceived by the recipient. Do not
            move to match the target's moves and postures immediately. It is
            also essential to try and match the verbal behaviour and to
            communicate with the same level of intelligence, social status and
            sense of humour as the target.

            Before I made myself wealthy, I used to practice these abilities
            when hitch-hiking. Soon, even people whom I found quite ghastly were
            buying me lunch and transporting me far out of their way. Empathy
            will get you anywhere.

            ORANGE MAGIC

            Charlatanry, trickery, living by one's wits and thinking fast on
            one's feet are the essence of the orange power. These mercurial
            abilities were traditionally associated with the god forms which
            acted as patrons to doctors, magicians, gamblers and thieves.
            However the profession of medicine has now partly dissociated itself
            from charlatanry since doctors discovered that antibiotics and
            hygienic surgery actually worked. Nevertheless about eighty percent
            of medications are still basically placebos, and the profession
            still retains the mercurial caduceus for its emblem. Similarly the
            profession of magic has become less dependant on charlatanry with
            the discovery of the quantum-probabilistic nature of enchantment and
            divination and the virtual abandonment of classical alchemy and
            astrology. Pure magic is now best described as an expression of the
            octarine power, having an Uranian character. Yet charlatanry still
            has its place in magic as in medicine. Let us not forget that all
            "conjuring tricks" were once part of the shamanic warm up repertoire
            in which something lost or destroyed is miraculously restored by the
            magician to get the audience in the right mood before the serious
            business of placebo healing began. In its classical form, the
            magician puts a dead rabbit in a hat before pulling out a live one.



                                                                                           1836
          

          To the list of professions drawing heavily on the orange power one
            must now add salesman, confidence trickster, stockbroker and indeed
            any profession with an extreme heart attack rating. The motive power
            of the orange gnosis is basically fear, a species of fear which does
            not inhibit the user, but rather creates an extraordinary nervous
            speed that produces quick moves and answers in tight corners.

            The apotheosis of the Wit-self is the ability to enter that state of
            mental overdrive in which the fast response is always forthcoming.
            This ability is,, paradoxically enough, created by not thinking
            about thinking, but rather allowing anxiety to partially paralyse
            the inhibitory process themselves so that the subconscious can throw
            out a quick witted response without conscious deliberation.

            Invocations of the orange power are best delivered at frantic speed
            and gnosis can be deepened by the performance of mentally demanding
            tasks such as adding up large lists of numbers in one's head or
            ripping open envelopes containing difficult questions and answering
            them instantly; activities which should be persisted with until a
            breakthrough to the experience of thinking without deliberation is
            achieved. Varied god forms can be used to give form to the Wit-self.
            Hermes, Loki, Coyote the Trickster and the Roman Mercurius are often
            employed.

            Orange magic is usually restricted to invocations designed to
            enhance general quick wittedness in secular activities such as
            gambling, crime and intellectual pursuits. Enchantments and
            evocations performed subsequent to an invocation of the orange
            gnosis rarely seem to give results as effective as the invocation
            itself in my experience. Perhaps something should be said about
            crime and gambling for the benefit of those hotheads who may
            misunderstand what can be done with orange magic in support of such
            activities. Theft is ludicrously easy performed methodically yet the
            majority of thieves get caught after a while because they become
            addicted to anxiety, which they experience as excitement and
            start taking risks to increase it. The novice thief who, in state of
            extreme anxiety, takes something in a situation of zero risk, does
            not of course get caught and neither does the careful professional.
            However there are few careful professionals because there are far
            easier ways of making money in most societies for people with that
            kind of ability. The great majority of thieves however always manage
            to find some way of incriminating themselves because the anxiety of
            the theft itself fades, only the anxiety of punishment remains.
            Those quick witted and outwardly cool enough to thieve successfully
            can easily make more from salesmanship.



                                                                                           1837
          

          There are three types of persistent gambler. The losers account for
            two types. Firstly there are those addicted to their own arrogance,
            who just have to prove that they can beat pure chance or the odds
            set by the organisers. Secondly there are those addicted to the
            anxiety of loosing. Even if they win, they invariably throw it away
            again soon afterwards. Then there are the winners. These people are
            not gambling at all, either because they are organising the odds and
            stakes, or because they have inside information, or because they are
            cheating. This is true orange magic. Poker is not a game of chance
            if played skilfully, and skilful play includes not playing against
            persons of equal or superior skill, or persons holding a Smith and
            Weston to your Four Aces. Most conventional forms of gambling are
            set up in such a way that the use of anything but the most extreme
            forms of psychic power will make little difference. I would not
            bother to bet on odds that I had reduced from an hundred to one to
            merely sixty to one. However certain results obtained using double
            blind prescience with horse racing show encouraging potential.

            PURPLE MAGIC

            A large proportion of all the cults throughout history have shared
            one particular characteristic. They have been led by a charismatic
            man able to persuade women to freely dispense sexual favours to ther
            men. When one begins to look, this feature is startlingly common to
            many ancient cults, monotheistic schismatic sects and modern
            esoteric groups. Many, if not the majority of adepts past and
            present were, or are, whoremasters. The mechanism is quite simple,
            pay the woman in the coinage of spirituality to service the men who
            repay you with adulation and accept your teachings as a side effect.
            The adulation from the men then increases your charisma with the
            women creating a positive feedback loop. It can be a nice little
            earner until old age or a police raid catches up with the
            enterprise. The other danger is of course that the women, and
            eventually the men, may come to feel that constant changes of
            partners work against their longer term interests of emotional
            security and reproduction. The turnover in such cults can thus be
            high, with young adults constantly replacing those approaching early
            middle age.

            Few religions or cults lack a sexual teaching, for any teaching
            provides a powerful level of control. The vast majority of the more
            durable and established religions trade on a suppression of so
            called free love. This pays considerable dividends too. Women's
            position becomes more secure, and men know who their children are.
            Naturally adultery and prostitution flourish in such conditions
            because some people always want a little more than lifelong monogamy
            has to offer. So it's quite true that brothels are built with the
            bricks of religion. Indirectly so with conventional religions,
            directly so with many cults.

            All this begs the question of why it is that people have such an
            appetite for wanting to be told what to do with their sexuality. Why
            do people have to seek esoteric and metaphysical justification for
            what they want to do? Why is it so easy to make a living selling
            water by the river?



                                                                                           1838
          

          The answer, it appears, is that human sexuality has some built in
            dissatisfaction function of evolutionary origin. Our sexual
            behaviour is partly controlled by genetics. Those genes most likely
            to survive and prosper are those that in the female encourage the
            permanent capture of the most powerful male available and occasional
            liaisons (clandestine) with any more powerful male that may be
            temporarily available. Whereas in the male, the genes most likely to
            prosper are those encouraging the impregnation of as large a number
            of females as he can support, plus perhaps a few on the sly that
            other men are supporting. It is interesting to note that only in the
            human female is oestrous concealed. In all other mammals the fertile
            time is made abundantly obvious. This appears to have evolved to
            allow, paradoxically both adultery and increased pair bonding
            through sex at times when it is reproductively useless. The economic
            basis of any particular society will usually supply some pressure in
            favour of a particular type of sexuality and this pressure will be
            codified as morality which will inevitably conflict with biological
            pressures. Celibacy is unsatisfactory, Masturbation is
            unsatisfactory, Monogamy is unsatisfactory, Adultery is
            unsatisfactory, Polygamy and Polyandry is unsatisfactory and
            presumably Homosexuality is unsatisfactory, if the renetic
            merry-go-round of partner exchanges in that discipline is anything
            to go by.

            Nothing in the spectrum of possible sexualities provides a perfect
            long term solution, but this is the price we pay for occupying the
            pinnacle of mammalian evolution. So much of our art, culture,
            politics and technology arises precisely out of our sexual
            yearnings, fears, desires and dissatisfactions. A society sexually
            at peace with itself would present a very dull spectacle indeed. It
            is generally if not invariably tha case that personal creativity and
            achievement are directly proportional to personal sexual turmoil.
            This is actually one of the major but often unrecognised techniques
            of sex magic. Inspire yourself with maximum sexual turmoil and
            confusion if you really want to find out what you are capable of in
            other fields. A tempestuous sex life is not a side effect of being a
            great artist for example. Rather it is the art which is the side
            effect of a tempestuous sex life. A fanatical religion does not
            create the suppression of celibacy. It is the tensions of celibacy
            which create a fanatical religion. Homosexuality is not a side
            effect of barracks life amongst elite suicide shock troops.
            Homosexuality creates elite suicide shock troops in the first place.

            The Muse, the hypothetical source of inspiration, usually pictured
            in sexual terms, is the Muse only when one's relationship to her is
            unstable. Every possible moral pronouncement on sexual behaviour has
            doubtless been given a million times before, and it would be
            unseemly for a Chaoist to re-emphasise any of it. However, one thing
            seems reasonably certain. Any form of sexuality eventually invokes
            the whole gamut of ecstasy, self-disgust, fear, delight, boredom,
            anger, love, jealousy, rafe, self-pity, elation and confusion.It is
            these things which make us human and occasionally superhuman. To
            attempt to transcend them is to make oneself less than human, not
            more. Intensity of experience is the key to really being alive and
            given the choice I'd rather do it through love than war any day.



                                                                                           1839
          

          A dull sex life creates a dull person. Few people manage to achieve
            greatness in any field without propulsion that a turbulent
            emotional-sexual life supplies. This is the major secret of sex
            mgic, the two minor secrets involve the function of orgasm as gnosis
            and the projection of sexual glamours.

            Anything held in the conscious mind at orgasm tends to reach down
            into the subconscious. Sexual abnormalities can readily be implanted
            or removed by this method. At orgasm sigils for enchantment or
            evocation can be empowered either by visualisation or by gazing at
            the sigil taped to one's partner's forehead for example. However
            this kind of work is often more conveniently performed
            auto-erotically. Although the gnosis offered by orgasm can in theory
            be used in support of any magical objective, it is generally unwise
            to use it for entropy or combat magic. No spell is ever totally
            insulted within the subconscious and any leakages which occur can
            implant quite detrimental associations with the sexuality.

            At orgasm an invocation can be triggered, this operation being
            particularly effective if each partner assumes a god form. The
            moments following orgasm are a useful time for divinatory vision
            seeking. Prolonged sexual activity can also lead to stages of trance
            useful in visual and oracular divination or oracular states of
            possession in invocation.

            The projection of Sexual Glamour for the purposes of attracting
            others depends on far more than simple physical appearance. Some of
            the most conventually pretty people lack it entirely, whilst some of
            the plainest enjoy its benefits to the limit.

            To be attractive to another person one must offer them something
            which is a reflection of part of their self. If the offer becomes
            reciprocal then it can lead to that sense of completion which is
            most readily celebrated by physical intimacy. In most cultures it is
            conventional for the male to display a tough public exterior and for
            the female to display a softer persona, yet in a sexual encounter
            each will seek to reveal their concealed factors. The male will seek
            to show that he can be compassionate and valnerable as well as
            powerful, whilst the female seeks to display inner strength behind
            the outward signs and signals of passive receptivity. Incomplete
            personalities such as those which are machismo to the core, or
            consist of the polar opposite of this, are never sexually attractive
            to anyone except in the most transient sense.

            Thus the philosophers of love have come to identify a certain
            androgyny in either sex as an important component of attraction.
            Some have taken the poetic license to express the quaint ideal that
            the male has a femal soul and the female a male one. This reflects
            the truism that to be attractive to others you must first become
            attracted to yourself. A few hours spent practising being attractive
            in front of a mirror is a valuable exercise. If you cannot get
            mildly excited about yourself, then don't expect anyone else to get
            wildly excited.



                                                                                           1840
          

          The "moon glance" technique is often effective. Basically one
            briefly closes the eyes and momentarily visualises a lunar crescent
            in silver behind the eyes with the horns of the moon projecting out
            of each side of the head behind the eyes. Then one glances into the
            eyes of a potential lover whilst visualising a silver radiance
            beaming from your eyes to theirs. This manoeuvre also has the effect
            of dilating the pupils and usually causes an involuntary smile. Both
            of these are universal sexual signals, the first of which acts
            subconsciously.

            It is generally unwise to cast spells for the attraction of specific
            partners but better to conjure for suitable partners in general for
            oneself or others. One's subconscious usually has a far more subtle
            appreciation of who really is suitable.

            Sexual magic is traditionally associated with the colours of purple
            (for ppassion) and silver (for the moon). However, the effectiveness
            of black clothing as either a sexual or an anti-sexual signal,
            depending on the style and cut, shows that black is in a sense the
            secret colour of sex, reflecting the biological and psychological
            relationship between sex and death.

              ________________

            This text is out of Pete Carroll's book
            "Liber Kaos, The Psychonomicon" (Weiser)

            With fractalic greetings and laughter  * Fra.: Apfelmann *



                                                                                           1841
          

                                      Dedication Ritual 
             Lammas, 1992                                                     Khaled Quicksilver
                                                                                                
            OPENING:  Put up circle as per usual, up to but not including DDTM.  Principal
            witness is Priest or Priestess, whichever is opposite gender to the Candidate.

            Candidate (with sponsors, stands facing Priest/ess:
                 "I, (full given name), have decided to dedicate myself to the keeping of the
            Gods, and I wish to so swear, with this Circle of the Craft of the Wise as witness."

            Priest/ess (to sponsors):
                 "Is (candidates full name) a proper person, of good report and standing in both
            communities, sacred and profane, who resoects our ways and wishes to learn the path
            of Wisom from the Lord and Lady?"

            Sponsor:
                 "I have found her/him to be so."

            Priest/ess (to Candidate):
                 "What is the Rede?"

            Candidate:
                 "An it harm none, do what ye will."

            Priest/ess:
                 "Truly an Ethical core.  And art willing to make oath to the Gods?"

            Candidate:
                 "I am."

            Priest/ess:
                 "Art willing to ever keep secret what is unfolded before you, even though it
            should cost thee thy life?"

            Candidate:
                 "I am."

            Priest/ess:
                 "Art willing to swear so before the Gods, and before these here assembled?

            Candidate:
                 "I am."

            Priest/ess (to Sponsor):
                 "Has s/he the password to enter into the worlds where such a compact must needs
            be made?

            Sponsor:
                 "S/he has it not.  I give it for him/her, so she may enter into compact."



                                                                                           1842
          

                                    Dedication (continued)
            Priest/ess:
                 "By what Right or Privelege do you ask admittance into our Rites and into the
            company of the Gods?"

            Sponsor:
                 "By the right of two passwords. Perfect Love and Perfect Trust!"

            Priest/ess (to dedicant):
                 "The door has been opened for you.  But you must make the step alone.  By what
            right do you enter?"

            Dedicant:
                 "By those very passwords. Perfect Love and Perfect Trust."

            Priest/ess:
                 "I give thee a third. (Kisses Candidate)

            DDTM is then performed.

            Priest/ess:
                 "You may now proceed with your wish."

            Candidate:
                 Gives dedication oath.  (this should be written by the candidate with the help
            of the sponsor(s), so that all the elements required are included, but should not
            follow a "canned" script.)

            Priest/ess (to those assembled):
                 "We have heard (Canddates name)'s intentions.  Have you any questions or do you
            wish any clarification?"

                 Each covenor does so, if they want a clarification.  This continues until all
            are satisfied as to the meaning of the candidate's oath and are satisfied that the
            candidate has promised to live up the the Rede, to the best of his/her ability while
            a student and to keep the Secrets, whether they stay in or not. (NOTE:  Promising
            more than is outlined is grossly unfair -- The candidate MUST fully cognizant of
            what has been promised!)

            Priest/ess:
                 "We have heard your Oath and your meaning.  Remember that you Oath binds you,
            for it has been made in the presence of the Gods and witnessed by the Craft of the
            Wise."

            Priest/ess then introduces the new dedicant to each member of the group, then to the
            Quarters, and finally to the Gods:

            Priest/ess:
                 "Lord and Lady, here is your Child, (name) who has sworn his/her devotion to
            you.  Treat him/her gently and with justice, for s/he is young in the ways of the
            Wise.  Teach us to do the same."

            Cakes and Wine, with the new Dedicant fiven the first drink in honour of his/her new
            status.  Dismiss the Circle.



                                                                                           1843
          

                                      
                                             The Witches' Creed
                                               Doreen Valiente
            Hear Now the words of the witches,
            The secrets we hid in the night,
            When dark was our destiny's pathway,
            That now we bring forth into light.

            Mysterious water and fire,
            The earth and the wide-ranging air,
            By hidden quintessence we know them, 
            And will and keep silent and dare.

            The birth and rebirth of all nature,
            The passing of winter and spring,
            We share with the life universal,
            Rejoice in the magical  ring.

            Four times in the year the Great Sabbat
            Returns, and the witches are seen
            At Lammas and Candlemas dancing,
            On May Eve and old Hallowe'en.

            When day-time and night-time are equal,
            Whensun is at greatest and least,
            The four Lesser Sabbats are summoned,
            And Witches gather in feast.

            Thirteen silver moons in a year are,
            Thirteen is the coven's array.
            Thiteen times at Esbat make merry,
            For each golden year and a day.

            The power that was passed down the age,
            Each time between woman and man,
            Each century unto the other,
            Ere time and the ages began.

            When drawn is the magical circle,
            By sword or athame of power,
            Its compass between two worlds lies,
            In land of the shades for that hour.

            This world has no right then to know it,
            And world of beyond will tell naught.
            The oldest of Gods are invoked there,
            The Great Work of magic is wrought.

            For the two are mystical pillars,
            That stand at the gate of the shrine,
            And two are the powers of nature,
            The forms and the gorces divine.



                                                                                           1844
          


                                  The Witches' Creed  (cont.)

            The dark and the light in succession,
            The opposites each unto each,
            Shown forth as a God and a Goddess:
            Of this our ancestors teach. 

            By night he's the wild wind's rider,
            The Horn'd One, the Lord of the Shades.
            By day he's the King of the Woodland,
            The dweller in green forest glades.

            She is youthful or old as she pleases,
            She sails the torn clouds in her barque,
            The bright silver lady of midnight,
            The crone who weaves spells in the dark.

            The master and mistress of magic,
            Thet dwell in the deeps of the mind,
            Immortal and ever-renewing,
            With power to free or to bind.

            So drink the good wine to the Old Gods,
            And Dance and make love in their praise,
            Till Elphame's fair land shall receive us
            In peace at the end of our days.

            And Do What You Will be the challenge,
            So be it Love that harms  none,
            For this is the only commandment.
            By Magic of old, be it done!

                 Doreen Valiente,
                 "Witchcraft For Tomorrow"
                 pp.172-173



                                                                                           1845
          

                                        SAMHAIN CHANT 

            Fire red, summer's dead
            Yet it shall return.
            Clear and bright, in the night,
            Burn, fire, burn!

            Chorus:
            Dance the ring, luck to bring,
            When the year's a-turninng.
            Chant the rhyme at Hallows-time,
            When the fire's burning.

            Fire glow, vision show
            Of the heart's desire,
            When the spell's chanted well
            Of the witching fire.

            Chorus:
            Dance the ring, luck to bring,
            When the year's a-turninng.
            Chant the rhyme at Hallows-time,
            When the fire's burning.

            Fire spark, when nights are dark
            Makes our winter's mirth.
            Red leaves fall, earth takes all,
            Brings them to rebirth.

            Chorus:
            Dance the ring, luck to bring,
            When the year's a-turninng.
            Chant the rhyme at Hallows-time,
            When the fire's burning.

            Fire fair, earth and air,
            And the heaven's rain,
            All blessed be, and so may we,
            at Hallows-tide again.

            Chorus:
            Dance the ring, luck to bring,
            When the year's a-turninng.
            Chant the rhyme at Hallows-time,
            When the fire's burning.
                 Doreen Valiente
                 "Witchcraft For Tomorrow" p. 193 



                                                                                           1846
          

                                         HORN SONG  
                 
              Great stag's horns are sprouting out of my head! 
              Now I sing great songs! 
              Thundering voices roar 
              Ancient melodies 
                 
              That now are caught in my magickal horns 
              To power my soul 
              And to heal my body 
              And enrich my mind! 
                 
              Listen as I soar!  Listen as I sing! 
              My words are power 
              To heal bodies, minds, soul 
              And to conquer death! 
              
                 Date:  01-29-89  14:07 
                 From:  Hugh Read  
                 Origin: FIRE OPAL - A Gem of an OPUS  [Minneapolis, MN  
                 (612) 822-4812] (Opus 1:282/8) 



                                                                                           1847
          

                                       PAN TO ARTEMIS 
            Uncharmable charmer 
            Of Bacchus and Mars, 
            In the sounding, rebounding 
            Abyss of the stars! 
            O virgin in armour, 
            Thine arrows unsling 
            In the brilliant resilient 
            First rays of the spring! 
             
            By the force of the fashion 
            Of love, when I broke 
            Through the shroud, through the cloud, 
            Through the storm, through the smoke, 
            To the mountain of passion 
            Volcanic that woke-- 
            By the rrage of the mage 
            I invoke, I invoke! 
             
            By the midnight of madness, 
            The lone-lying sea, 
            The swoon of the moon, 
            Your swoon into me; 
            The sentinel sadness 
            Of cliff-clinging pine, 
            That night of delight 
            You were mine, you were mine! 
             
            You were mine, O my saint, 
            My maiden, my mate, 
            By the might of the right 
            Of the night of our fate. 
            Though I fall, though I faint, 
            Though I char, though I choke, 
            By the hour of our power 
            I invoke, I invoke! 
            By the mystical union 
            Of fairy and faun, 
            Unspoken, unbroken-- 
            The dusk to the dawn!-- 
            A secret communion, 
            Unmeasured, unsung, 
            The listless, resistless, 
            Tumultuous tongue!-- 
             
            O virgin in armour 
            Thine arrows unsling, 
            In the brilliant resilient 
            First rays of the spring! 
            No Godhead could charm her, 
            But manhood awoke-- 
            O fiery Valkyrie, 
            I invoke, I invoke! 



                                                                                           1848
          

                            ALOHA, Serge King -- a full moon blessing 
                
              The only Temple of Peace worth building 
              Is in your heart, Serge 
              Is in the human heart 
              In your students hearts 
                
              Peace can not be won with money, Serge 
              Peace can not be bought 
              Nor can peace be sold 
              But peace must be earned 
                
              In loving, selfless service to us all 
              Giving, regiving 
              Just for the Joy of It 
              THAT is Aloha 
                
              Aloha is never prosperity, Serge 
              Bought with the money 
              Tinkling in your pocket 
              Aloha is free 
                
              Giving, regiving in poverty 
              Sings an ancient song 
              Full of Joy, Bliss and Love 
              The true coin of Peace 
                
              A so is giving, regiving in wealth 
              A thing of beauty 
              Filled with ancient glory 
              Unsurpassable 
                
              With blessings and thanks, I give you this gift 
              May it touch your heart 
              And open your heart 
              May it touch all hearts 
                 
              ALOHA, Serge King! 
                 Date:  01-22-89  05:33 
                 Hugh Read 



                                                                                           1849
          

                                        BURNING TIMES 
            The songs are sung to rouse our anger 
            Of martyred witches gone to the fire 
            But what is served by righteous singing 
            When all we do is stew in our ire? 
                    Nine million dead in four hundred years 
                    More in that time simply died of disease. 
                    Why do we dwell on long-passed dead 
                    When we are alive in times like these? 
             
            cho1:   Rise up, Witches, throw off your masks 
                    And cease crying guilt for ancient crimes; 
                    Earth and all her children need us, 
                    For all face now the Burning Times. 
             
            In the face of that hostile power, 
            How did the old knowledge stay alive? 
            How do we have a Craft to practise? 
            Our ancestors knew how to fight and survive! 
                    How do we honour our blessed dead? 
                    Slavery threatens all but the few! 
                    We must teach their cunning ways; 
                    Everyone needs the skills they knew. 
             
            cho:    Rise up, Witches, gather your strength, 
                    And let your power spread and climb; 
                    Earth and all her children need us, 
                    For all face now the Burning Times. 
             
            I'll not cast off science's works  
            Witches all forces to Will can bend. 
            I'll not accuse, for war and waste, 
            Some patriarchy of faceless Men. 
                    Men do not cast the only votes; 
                    Women alone do not demonstrate. 
                    Rather than shut out half the race, 
                    Who, if not we, will change that state? 
             
            cho:    Rise up, Witches, gather your strength, 
                    And let your power spread and climb; 
                    Earth and all her children need us, 
                    For all face now the Burning Times.  
             
            I will not blame a Father's Church -- 
            Blame and guilt are Their tools, not mine. 
            And even in the shuls and churches 
            Allies there will I seek and find! 
                    I will not answer hate with fear; 
                    Nor with a smug, cheek-turning love; 
                    I will not answer hate with rage; 
                    By strength alone will I not be moved! 
             



                                                                                           1850
          

                                    BURNING TIMES  (cont.)

            cho:    Rise up, Witches, gather your strength, 
                    And let your power spread and climb; 
                    Earth and all her children need us, 
                    For all face now the Burning Times.  
             
            I will not hide in my sacred grove -- 
            The factories and cities yet ring me about. 
            I will not climb my ivory tower -- 
            The real world exists though I shut it out. 
                    I will not work for Church nor State 
                    Who serve themselves while they serve us lies. 
                    Nor only for my Witchen kin 
                    But for the family of all alive! 
             
            cho:    Rise up, Witches, gather your strength, 
                    And let your power spread and climb; 
                    Earth and all her children need us, 
                    For all face now the Burning Times.  
             
            So if rebellion means to fight 
            A State lost sight of why it was built, 
            If heresy's to reject a Church 
            That rules with force or fear or guilt, 
                    Then let us all be rebels proud, 
                    And shameless heretics by creed! 
                    A tyrant's hand subjects the Earth  
                    More heretic rebels are what She needs! 
             
            cho:    Rise up, Witches, gather your strength, 
                    And let your power spread and climb; 
                    Earth and all her children need us, 
                    For all face now the Burning Times.  
             
                        copyright 1988, Leigh Ann Hussey 
            ThelemaNet - Hail Eris! * (415) 548-0163 (Opus 1:161/93) 



                                                                                           1851
          

                                         CHANGE     

              I wonder if the sadness I feel 
              Is the shadow 
              Of my profound happiness 
              Something is finished 
                 
              That was filled with wonderful excitement 
              The search is over 
              Now it is time to work 
              This is something new 
                 
              It is as if a tiger were lurking 
              Unseen and waiting 
              To pounce on me and kill 
              This, my new beauty 
              
            01-10-89 Hugh Read 
            FIRE OPAL - A Gem of an OPUS  [Minneapolis, MN  (612) 822-4812] 
            (Opus 1:282/8) 
              
             

                                          To Greyshield, with love 
                      
                     The circle cast about us. 
                     The Gods bear witness to our love. 
                     The Watchtower Guardians keep 
                     silent vigil. 
                     Our brothers and sisters stand with us. 
                     The Lord and Lady have granted  
                     us audience. 
                     The candlelight reflects the love 
                     in your eyes. 
                     A love that we have shared before, 
                     Not even death to come between us. 
                     We stand together, hand in hand. 
                     Our paths have merged again. 
                     The Moon beckons us to join Her, 
                     gladly we go. 
                     The Lady smiles upon us. 
                      
                                     Phoenix 
                      
            InterVisioN "The ParaNormal Connection" 603-547-6485 HST 
            (1:132/123) 



                                                                                           1852
          

                                      A PAGAN AWAKENING 
            A new life is there, 
            You hear Her now, 
            She was always there, 
            and You're forever changed. 
                  So listen to Diana, and accept Her love. 
                  Hoard not Her gifts : feeling, renewal, music. 
            A new life is there, 
            You see Him now, 
            He was always there, 
            and you're forever changed. 
                  So look to Apollo, and receive His light. 
                  Hoard not His gifts : healing, growth, joy. 
            A new life is there, 
            Your hands reach it now, 
            It was always there, 
            and You're forever changed. 
                  So touch the earth, and partake of it's sustenance. 
                  Hoard not it's gifts : body, green, silence. 
            A new life is there, 
            You soar with it now, 
            It was always there, 
            and You're forever changed. 
                  So breathe in the air and gather the wind. 
                  Hoard not it's gifts : mind, dreams, empathy. 
            A new life is there, 
            You're warmed by it now, 
            It was always there, 
            and You're forever changed. 
                  So build the flame and brave it's heat. 
                  Hoard not it's gifts : spirit, will, energy. 
            A new life is there, 
            You flow with it now, 
            It was always there, 
            and You're forever changed. 
                  So study the ocean and follow it's tides. 
                  Hoard not it's gifts : self, courage, sorrow. 
            A new life is there, 
            You're one with them now, 
            They were always there, 
            and You're forever changed. 
                  So take Their gifts and return them threefold. 
                  Share this magic : friendship, love, trust. 
                              .... Jeff A. Bordeaux  4 Jan 89 
            InterVisioN "The ParaNormal Connection" 603-547-6485 HST 
            (1:132/123) 



                                                                                           1853
          

                                    A CALL TO LORD AND LADY 
              
                She lives and breathes upon the Earth 
                Her wheel spins round the hub of June 
                She is the web of life and birth 
                Her smile floats softly with the moon 
              
                Heart of life, and caring mother 
                Loving sister, noble princess 
                Firebird spirit, restless lover 
                Shadowy hidden sorceress 
              
                His strength is there in mountains high 
                His lightning flys from air and cloud 
                His horn heralds the wild hunt's ride 
                He quickens forest, roaring proud 
              
                Children's friend, protecting father 
                Watchful brother, noble fighter 
                Laughing wise one, dark magister 
                Player of pipes, thoughtful sheperd 
              
                Their faces many, countless names 
                Pan, Diana, Zeus, Astarte 
                Teachers from dreams, oracle's flames 
                Speak, and guide us within our hearts 
                                 - J.A.B. 14 Feb 89 

                                       SEEKING THE SIGN TO DRAGONHEIM 
              - 
                Mighty wings once carved the cumulus 
                 sowing storm filled clouds and reaping rain. 
                Soaring, we bounded the radius 
                 of the peak crowned heights of our domain. 
              - 
                    How long is the road to Dragonheim? 
                    The length of a dreamer's call. 
                    How number the miles to Dragonheim? 
                    It is none, I say, and all. 
              - 
                And the sky roared when touched by our flames 
                 it sang to words wrought in fume and smoke. 
                Firey visions dwelt within the names 
                 of numberless tribes of dragon folk. 
              - 
                    Where winds the path to Dragonheim? 
                    Hidden in a name; a secret sound. 
                    Where stands the entrance to Dragonheim? 
                    In the place never lost, though seldom found. 
              - 
                Majestic mountains once housed our young 
                 born from crystal eggs that caught the light. 
                In strong shadowed heights our dwellings hung 
                 ne'er crossed by the foes who feared our might. 



                                                                                           1854
          

           
                  What shapes the trail to Dragonheim? 
                    A maze of dreams, pointing streight. 
                    How travels the way to Dragonheim? 
                    On paths of heart, devoid of hate. 
             
                Now the lands are gone, scourged by the ire 
                 of the modern day people's decree. 
                But spirits live on, look to the fires. 
                 You must catch our souls to set us free. 
             
                    In what age stands the halls of Dragonheim? 
                    Time beyond time, between the worlds. 
                    Where dwell the inhabitants of Dragonheim? 
                    They smile as your spirits soar and curl. 
             
              **   -  J.A. Bordeaux (Steorra Rokraven) ,  17 Feb 89 
            InterVisioN "The ParaNormal Connection" 603-547-6485 HST 
            (1:132/123) 
              
                                           TO THE DRAGONS, REBORN 
              - 
                They say the flame wrought winds are dead; 
                 Ethereal dancing, jeweled wings - no more. 
                Monolithic rationality is the head. 
                 Noble dreams and works - shattered, torn. 
              - 
                Their world was theirs - never doubt. 
                 But the magic and power faded away, 
                When the light gave way to spiritual drought 
                 and Oppenheimer replaced Morganna Le Fay. 
              - 
                But in some strange souls they found a home: 
                 Those inspired, lost, exiled castaways. 
                Music and verse and The Craft are the bones 
                 Of these long lost archetypes of elder days. 
              - 
                And it takes a mere seed to create an oak, 
                 and music and light, rain and mirth, 
                bridging land and sky with it's growth; 
                 fulfilling the call to renew the Earth. 
              - 
                So nurture these dragons who live within you- 
                 The Burning has ended and they may go free. 
                Let them grow so that their work may continue. 
                 An it harm none, do what ye will - Blessed Be! 
              - 
                              Jeff A. Bordeaux  3 January 1989 
            InterVisioN "The ParaNormal Connection" 603-547-6485 HST 
            (1:132/123) 
              



                                                                                           1855
          


                                         EARTHDREAM 
              - 
                I feel earth drums deep in the mountain's feet; 
                Compelling rhythm driving from the core. 
                I quicken to the flow of molten heat, 
                and sing with earth song felt in granite's roar. 
              - 
                And overhead, elusive secrets heard 
                in rushing air, bright lightning's stormy ring. 
                The wisdom of the dragon, cloud and bird 
                I hear in wind, and see in eagle's wing. 
              - 
                A roaring flame will dance and show it's gaze 
                and speak with firey language, spark and smoke. 
                My needful spirit feeds upon this blaze 
                and feeds the source with rowan, ash and oak. 
              - 
                The swelling ocean, graced with moon's soft kiss 
                will heal and bathe the heart within it's wake. 
                The clear blue source of flowing feeling's bliss 
                is found in winding stream, dark pool and lake. 
              - 
                This dream surrounds and makes our spirits one. 
                Learn from the Earth, her smile, her forests green; 
                To watch and listen, feel the visions come, 
                to find the center, find the worlds between. 
                    -- J.A.B.  15 Feb 89 
            InterVisioN "The ParaNormal Connection" 603-547-6485 HST 
            (1:132/123) 
              
                         
                                                     ELF 
               
                Wilst I think, 
                And sit and dream within the forest, 
                  soft footfall comes up behind me, 
                   as I think. 
                A soft cool hand touches my shoulder 
                  and whispers like the wind enter my ear. 
                Her perfume preceeds her words,  
                  her intentions reflected , 
                    in the calming mist. 
                Like dust, sleep overcomes me, 
                  as soft secrets fill my thoughts, 
                   the hand releases its elfin grip, 
                     
                And I drift into sleep... 
                       Marcus
            Baker Street Irregular * Ft Walton Beach FL (1:366/222) 



                                                                                           1856
          

                                            LYRA 
                 
              Lyra 
              In her bubble 
              Dances near me now 
                 
              Tiny seer 
              You never wobble 
              As you dance the Tao 
                 
              Rainbow Fire 
              Like the Maple 
              And the Oak Tree, too 
                
              Flumes your Air 
              Suppley 
              Beauty!  Wow! 
                
              (Us little people gotta stick together even at a distance...maybe better at a
            distance ) 
                       Hugh Read 
                       The Terraboard, Minneapolis, MN (Opus 1:282/341) 
              

                                            The Goddess is Alive 
               
             Moon shines down upon a sea of Light, 
             Shifting sands lay singing in the Heart of the Night. 
             I looked upon a scene that gripped me to the core, 
             White-clad maidens below were dancing on the shore. 
               
             Sweet sounds slipped from moon-lit throats, 
             Wind whipped hair abound, 
             Lit by the light within and without, 
             The Women circled 'round. 
               
             As I stood, water engulfed my feet, 
             My body swayed to your Heavenly Heart beat. 
             Wind and wave and fire light, 
             Paled in my mind Earthly delight. 
               
             Time slipped by me as you held your embrace, 
             And windblown spray covered my face. 
             Protected deep within your Womb, 
             I could feel the tender pain of Life's bloom. 
               
             Candles flared high as the Dance progressed, 
             Deep inside with a healing touch you blessed. 
             All around, wind, wave and fire shouted of your life, 
             Your light speared deep within, soothing my strife. 
               
             Divine Mother, Goddess of Light, 
             To you I come seeking protection from the night. 
             Come home to shelter within your arm, 
             Surrounded by Love, hidden from harm. 



                                                                                           1857
          

             
           Holy Mother, Queen of Heaven and Earth, 
             From you we all trace our Birth. 
             Heavenly Goddess, light from above, 
             Shine down upon us, we pray for your Love.  

                                              HUNTER'S WARNING 
                                                       - 
               I have a tale, all grim forbode 
               of one who sought the night. 
              He mounted, then in darkness rode 
               to work upon the height. 
               Control and power over all, 
               the essence of his quest. 
              The people he would hold in thrall. 
               Ill omen was his crest. 
               He found a cliff beside the sea. 
               A glowing circle cast, 
              with magic burnt the Sacred Tree 
               and drawing sword, stood fast. 
               The ocean swelled, and gale winds cried- 
               a storm of ice and chill. 
              Bright lightnings slashed and burned the sky 
               imposed by dark'ning will. 
               A gateway through the Other World 
               was opened by his hand, 
              For from the clouds a funnel swirled 
               and Bifrost's road did stand. 
               A raucous army then came down 
               and rode upon that coast. 
              Weird hoofbeats rang upon the ground 
               from steeds who were as ghosts. 
               Just from the Hunt they had returned 
               to challenge fox, and deer. 
              And from the leader, one eye burned 
               and sighted down his spear. 
               'What magus honors not my name?', 
                a booming voice then cried. 
              'What fool does play this ill wrought game? 
                Best answer quick - or die.' 
                 'My title matters not, O Lord.', 
                  the sly tongued one did speak. 
                'We share the spirit of the sword- 
                  your wisdom I would seek.' 
               'My secrets will I gladly give 
                to all who share my way- 
               but test ye must, to die or live- 
                one chance to go or stay.' 
                 'Though death is not the thing I crave, 
                  your questions will I bear. 
                 And favour lacking, to the grave 
                  and thralldom will I swear.' 
                 'But I am learn'ed, wise and strong 
                  so if your test surpassed 
                 you must then swear before your throng 
                  your power you will pass.' 
               The Hunt Lord scowled, and it was done, 
               then said with frosty breath: 



                                                                                           1858
          

           'Unto me you will answer one- 
               what purpose does serve death?' 
                 'My foes have often met their end. 
                  I glory in the kill. 
                 My way will use the death to bend 
                  the people to my will.' 
               The Goddess Freyja then impart: 
              'What say you of the dove? 
              What use to you are things of heart? 
               Regard ye what of love?' 
                 'I scorn all love, I favour wrath, 
                  tis best left for the meek. 
                 And peaceful ways cross not my path, 
                  tis only for the weak.' 
              'War is my art, so answer this:', 
               spoke grim one handed Tyr. 
             'Affairs of state, when go amiss- 
               is honor in your sphere?' 
                 'All honor I return to friends 
                  and other Lords deserved. 
                 I say again, foes meet their ends 
                  when wrath has been incurred.' 
              'Unto us now, one more reply 
               before you hear our will. 
              of spells and power - magic high, 
               of what does this fulfill? 
                 'To honor you, I would enshrine, 
                  the world then I would take. 
                 To snare, all shiftless peoples bind 
                  with forces I would wake.' 
               All Asgard's dwellers, looking grim, 
               then nodded to this king. 
              Triumphant mein came over him- 
               his darkened soul did ring. 
               But Odin set his rage filled face- 
               the mages blood ran cold. 
             'Ye think that thou hast won our grace 
               with naked evil bold?' 
              'All death is but the way to birth 
               and peace is men's desire. 
              Our way is to renew the Earth- 
               despoiling not in ire.' 
              'This and the magics meant to heal 
               and guide on wisdom's path. 
              So this is why the powers wield- 
               you have incurred our wrath.' 
              'But go in sorrow - life we give, 
               along with this one curse- 
              That ever long as you shall live 
               your life now is reversed.' 
              'Harm with your magic, and you die 
               a death forever long. 
              Hurt with your guile, and you shall cry- 
               your way is twisted, wrong.' 
               They rode like leaves upon the wind. 
               Ensorcelled mage grew mad. 
              He wanders - never trust or friends. 
               Just woe, dark soul, nomad. 



                                                                                           1859
          

             Pay heed, all seekers on the path 
               to shadow's knowledge earned. 
              To evil go, you gain the wrath 
               of Powers great and stern. 
             
                   - J.A. Bordeaux  8 Mar 89 
                                                THE MOONPOOL 
              - 
                It is a lazy, restful time 
                 here in the forest glade. 
                The sun is departing, the stars arriving 
                 and the trees are a darkening jade. 
              - 
                An air of buzzing, drowsing stillness 
                 invades the meadow, lends weight to my head 
                as I settle down - bedroll, backpack 
                 and strains of music are seemingly played. 
              - 
                A deep, cool, dark pool is here, 
                 mirror clear, reflections of skies, 
                as peace fills my mind, my soul 
                 and sleep gently touches my eyes. 
              - 
                I know not whether I was awake, or in dream 
                 or how much time had passed, 
                when I felt the magic of this place 
                 camped there, upon the grass. 
              - 
                No sounds - no crickets? (The Music!) 
                 As the Moon awakens the pool, so bright. 
                Why this anticipation, premonition, 
                 this magical feeling, this ghost haunted night? 
              - 
                Then, a siamese cat enters the meadow- 
                 silver grey, regal compusure, flowing lines. 
                And somehow I know - I see intelligence 
                 and wit, and power, as she looks into my eyes. 
              - 
                How does she speak without speaking? 
                 But somehow, she communicates good will, and cheer. 
               'Stay quiet, childe of man.', she says. 
                'Be still - you are but a guest here.' 

               Then a parade of feline musicians 
                 wandered in singing from the right. 
                I shake my head *bedazzled*; Am I dreaming, or mad? 
                 Why me - here to witness this eldritch sight? 



                                                                                           1860
          

                                     THE MOONPOOL  (cont.)
              - 
                A troupe of dancing, cavorting gnomes 
                 made their appearence upon a rocky stage. 
                And following them : silver clad, haughty elves 
                 accompanied by a wizened old mage. 
              - 

                Now, many strange but noble presences made manifest 
                 on that starlit night in June. 
                And I witnessed and heard sweet music, high magic, secrets 
                 until dawn, with the passing of the Moon. 
              - 
                And the high bred Queen of Cat Folk 
                 smiled with warmth, and left. 
                Left me shaking with these visions, 
                 and nodding, I finally slept. 
              - 
                I return often to these stately woods, seeking 
                 but never finding the sacred pool, so bright. 
                It makes me sad - very sad to think 
                 that it was but a dream, a peculiar night. 
              - 
                But sometimes, at the edge of sleep, 
                 soft music slowly beckons, and calls. 
                And I know with every fiber of my being 
                 that I will again visit these magical sylvan halls 
             
                                                    Jewel 
                
             Sparkling like a priceless gem, 
             Your eyes glisten, a living diadem. 
             Touched from the past brought forth Today, 
             And once again my Heart is brought to bay. 
               
             I remember when we rode the Field, 
             Banner flying, raised the shield, 
             And then the time we loved and lost 
             
            And the unforgiving sea claimed a deadly cost. 
               
             Once in a village, poor and downtrodden, 
             Once with new birth our life was broken, 
             Lover I remember you when, 
             Ages past we wandered a glen. 
               
             Many lives have come and gone, 
             But for a while, with you I would be alone. 
             An oasis in the desert of life, 
             An island of Joy in an ocean of Strife. 
               
             It seems so strange the day we met, 
             Our eyes crossed briefly and our gazes met. 
             Stars in our eyes we heard them say, 
             But then you had to turn away. 



                                                                                           1861
          

             
           Departing you went with backwards gaze, 
             My eyes followed you gently and my heart was ablaze. 
             Visions of the Past and Future days, 
             And all I could see was the Sun's bright rays. 
               
             It seems so fateful that you walked in that day, 
             And to your smile my heart fell prey, 
             Eyes that dance filled with moonbeams of light, 
             While under your breast beats a heart filled with Life. 
               
             Into my arms I call you to me, 
             Eager our love to set free, 
             Into the air, like Hawks on the wing, 
             My love I give to you without any strings. 
               
             You say that you need time to be sure, 
             Lover, I tell you, that our love will endure. 
             This lifetime or next, only time will see, 
             But sooner or later, our love it will be. 
               
             Shining like diamonds caught in the sky, 
             A beacon for others, calling them to fly, 
             Showing no limits, teaching others to be free, 
             Visions of Love and Life we will be. 
                                        Shadow Hawk, 03-12-89  14:07 

                                             The Coming of Lugh 
                                                 by Iarwain 
              
             Lugh the Il-Dana came to the Tara 
             Lugh Samildanach came to the palace of the Tutha De 
             Lugh, master of all arts, came to Eireann 
              
             The gate keeper did not recognize Lugh 
             The gate keeper asked the Il-Dana his name 
             The gate keeper asked Lugh Samildanach what skill he possesed 
              
             Lugh said: 
              
             I am Lugh Samildanach 
             I am Lugh the Il-Dana 
             I am Lugh, master of battle 
              
             The gate keeper said: 
              
             We have no need of a battle master 
             King Nuada de Danann is our battle master 
             Nuada Airgitlamh is our battle master 
              
             Lugh said: 
              
             I am Lugh Samildanach 
             I am Lugh the Il-Dana 
             I am Lugh, master of healing 



                                                                                           1862
          

                                 The Coming of Lugh   (cont.)  
             The gate keeper said: 
              
             We have no need of a master of healing 
             Diancecht de Danann is our master healer 
             Diancecht is master of all herbs and healings 
              
             Lugh said: 
              
             I am Lugh Samildanach 
             I am Lugh the Il-Dana 
             I am Lugh, master of knowledge 
              
             The gate keeper said: 
              
             We have no need of a master of knowledge 
             Oghma de Danann is master of all learning 
             Oghma is master of all knowledge 
              
             Lugh said: 
              
             I am Lugh Samildanach 
             I am Lugh the Il-Dana 
             I am Lugh, master of Sailing 
              
             The gate keeper said: 

             We have no need of a master of sailing. 
             Mananan mac Lyr de Danann is our master of ships. 
             Mananan mac Lyr, son of the sea, is our master of sailing 
              
             Lugh said: 
              
             I am Lugh Samildanach 
             I am Lugh the Il-Dana 
             I am Lugh, master of sorcery 
              
             The gate keeper said: 
              
             We have no need of a master of sorcery 
             The Badb de Danann are mistresses of all sorcery 
             The three sisters Macha, Nemhain and  
                 Morrigan are mistresses of all witchcraft 
              
             Lugh said: 
              
             I am Lugh Samildanach 
             I am Lugh the Il-Dana 
             I am Lugh, master of smithing 
              
             The gate keeper said: 
              
             We have no need of a master of smithing 
             Goibniu de Danann is our master of smithing 
             Goibniu is a master of all crafts 
              
             Lugh said: 
              



                                                                                           1863
          

           I am Lugh Samildanach 
             I am Lugh the Il-Dana 
             I am Lugh, master of the battle 
             I am Lugh, master of healing 
             I am Lugh, master of knowledge 
             I am Lugh, master of sailing 
             I am Lugh, master of sorcery 
             I am Lugh, master of smithing 
              
             I bid you, unless you know of another who is master 
             of all these arts, take me to Nuada Airgitlamh, 
             take me to Nuada, king of the Tutha de Danann. 
              
             The gatekeeper went to Nuada. 
             When Nuada heard of Lugh's coming he said: 
             Let him come in, for never has his like entered 
             this fortress 
              
             Lugh the Il-Dana was admitted to the Tara 
             Lugh Samildanach was admitted to the palace of the Tuatha De 
             Lugh master of all arts found his place amongst the Tuatha de  Denann 
                                                 Night Wind 
                
             Night Wind whispers gently through the trees tonight, 
             Soon, softly, soon they whisper in delight, 
             Flights of Night Visions take wing in the night, 
             Off to the slumbers of children to bring Joy and Fright. 
               
             Over house, street, mountain and meadow 
             
            Wind flies swirling, fast and then slow, 
             To windows of children, it's dreams to bestow, 
             Dreams of Heros, Dragons, Maidens and more. 
               
             Little faces move in the night, 
             Eyes seeing Night Dreams of Horror and Delight, 
             Innocent faces asleep in the night, 
             While mighty undertakings go on with Inner Light. 
               
             Strong do they battle, they play in the night, 
             While parents lie dreaming of their own fear and delight. 
             Deep in the Heart of the Night Wind they soar, 
             No longer Children, but Adventurers and More. 
               
             Explorers and Travellers, Saints and Devils, 
             The Children of Day become Night's greatest Messengers, 
             Carrying word of Great Cities, Underground Oceans and Life, 
             Back to the day to see the Sun's light. 
               
             And in the morning as Night Wind retires, 
             Bright little faces alight with the glow, 
             Tell Tales of Valour and Strife into he night, 
             and condescending pats on their Heads is their plight. 



                                                                                           1864
          

             
           Off to your play they are told in the Day, 
             Enough of this dreaming they are told is the way, 
             That they are growing up and that this is the Real Way, 
             Dreams are for nighttime, and not for the day. 
               
             Dreams are for Dreamers, now you go and Play, 
             And the Mighty Warriors on the Night go into the Day, 
             Playing with dolls and trucks and clay, 
             The mighty forget Night's battles along the way. 
               
             But Deep in the forest, the cave, and the Dark, 
             Night Wind lies Dreaming and awaiting the Time, 
             When Night visions once more take to flight, 
             And Children of Day become Warriors of the Night. 
             
                                       Shadow Hawk, 03-12-89  14:06  

                                                 A TREE SONG 
                                             by Rudyard Kipling
             
            Of all the trees that grow so fair, 
                Old England to adorn, 
            Greater is none beneath the sun, 
                Than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn. 
            Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs, 
                (All of a Midsummer morn!) 
            Surely we sing of no little thing, 
                In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! 
             
            Oak of the Clay lived many a day, 
                Or ever Aeneas began. 
            Ash of the Loam was a Lady at home, 
                When Brut was an outlaw man. 
            Thorn of the Down saw New Troy Town 
                (From which was London born); 
            Witness hereby the ancientry 
                Of Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! 
             
            Yew that is old in churchyard-mould, 
                He breedeth a mighty bow. 
            Alder for shoes do wise men choose, 
                And beech for cups also. 
            But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled, 
                And your shoes are clean outworn, 
            Back ye must speed for all that ye need, 
                To Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! 
             
            Ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth 
                Till every gust be laid, 
            To drop a limb on the head of him 
                That any way trusts her shade. 
            But whether a lad be sober or sad, 
                Or mellow with wine from the horn, 
            He will take no wrong when he lieth along 
                'Neath Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! 



                                                                                           1865
          

           
          Oh, do not tell the priest our plight, 
                Or he would call it a sin; 
            But--we have been out in the woods all night, 
                A-conjuring Summer in! 
            And we bring you good news by word of mouth -- 
                Good news for cattle and corn -- 
            Now is the Sun come up from the south, 
                With Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! 
             
            Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs 
                (All of a Midsummer morn)! 
            England shall bide till Judgement Tide, 
                By Oak, and Ash, and Thorn! 


                                             THE CLOUD SCULPTORS 
                                             Staeorra Rokraven 
                  - 
               The air finds flight in forms of lofty wind 
               As one with nature's children taking part 
               And soaring up to go and find a friend 
               Then join with water spinning wispy art. 
                  - 
               This nature's process has eternal known 
               The way to hang up on the sky these drapes 
               But wonder not how these soft clouds have grown 
               From fleecy strand filled webs to take their shapes? 
                  - 
               Perhaps the artist's brush a thing unseen 
               With living tools the Elder Gods express 
               Those firey ones whose scales and talons gleam 
               To grace the heavens with their soft caress. 
                  - 
                 Now see the strokes of carving wings along 
                 With falling rain - the strains of Dragon song. 

              
                                             A DREAMING DESIRE 
                                             Staeorra Rokraven 
                  - 
               A spark comes coiling to the edge of sleep 
               From realms arcane which have become unknown 
               And from this psychic well does beauty leap 
               A vision cherished for to call my own. 
                  - 
               This wispy strand now takes it's shape in fire 
               And fueled by sources boldly to enchant 
               Then forming curves from wish of heart's desire 
               A Woman's eyes all graced with Elvish slant. 
                  - 
               The shield maid's arms then reach and wanting clasp 
               We intertwine within her streaming hair 
               Then sighing voices send a heartfelt gasp 
               As fragrance heralds tawny skin now bare'd. 
                  - 
                 This honored Lady may in shadows walk 
                 But fate may someday find my heart unlock. 



                                                                                           1866
          

                                       TO THE BONFIRES 
                                              Staeorra Rokraven
                  - 
               A circle gathered round a roaring pit 
               All joining hands to bask within it's glow 
               And under Moon crowned sky all starry lit 
               We sing and praise the Power's shadowed flow. 
                  - 
               For some the flames form dancing Dragon's wing 
               And other smoke wrought visions climb the air 
               For all a caring closeness will this bring 
               And psychic current bonding hearts to share. 
                  - 
               We charge this timeless place between the worlds 
               To call the Goddess' love within our hearts 
               And join with her our joyous souls unfurled 
               Our spirits dance with her by ancient arts. 
                  - 
                 This night forever captured in this glade 
                 To see old souls re-met and friendships made. 
                       -  J.A. Bordeaux  (S.R.)  - 

                                                 AMPHITRITE 
              
             The Lady went out sailing, 
             She spoke to all She saw, 
             And all who heard took ship with Her 
             And signed the sailors' law. 
             She sailed across the foamy waves, 
             Her trident in Her hand, 
             Her throwing-net beside Her, 
             And little thought of land. 
                  The Lady went out sailing. 
              
             Her vessel had a heart of oak, 
             And hearts of oak her crew, 
             Her rig was square, five-masted, 
             Her compass always true. 
             The mermaids swam before her, 
             The whales swam in her wake, 
             The dolphins on her bow-wave, 
             On any course she'd take. 
                  The Lady went out sailing. 
              
             The young and brash Earth-Shaker 
             Espied the Lady's ship 
             And vowed he'd have both Lady 
             And boat beneath his whip. 
             He hungered to be Sea-Lord; 
             He took his winged horse 
             And busked them both for battle, 
             And dogged the Lady's course. 
                  The Lady went out sailing. 



                                                                                           1867
          

                                     AMPHITRITE  (cont.)  
             At length, he overtook them, 
             And lighted on the stern. 
             He drew his sword for boarding; 
             He felt his passion burn. 
             The oaken-hearted crewmaids 
             Dodged as he swung apace 
             They made a path before him 
             To give their Captain space. 
                  The Lady went out sailing. 
              
             The Lady stood before him; 
             He raised his sword to slice. 
             She stood firm; with Her trident 
             She smote the deck thrice. 
             A wrenching seized his belly; 
             He rushed to the lee side 
             To puke his guts while laughter 
             Assailed his godly pride. 
                  The Lady went out sailing. 
              

             "And what would you, bold pirate?" 
             The Lady asked with force. 
             "I just want off this vessel!" 
             They led him to his horse. 
             He mounted to take leave of those 
             Who at young gods would scoff. 
             But he'd barely room for landing-- 
             And none for taking off! 
                  The Lady went out sailing. 
              
             "You've lost!" cried Amphitrite 
             Her net stopped his career 
             "Now--tell me what you came for 
             You half-baked buccaneer." 
             "I came to take your crewmaids 
             And vessel for my fee, 
             But most of all your maidenhead 
             And Lordship of the Sea. 
                  The Lady went out sailing. 
              
             "I think you're cute", the Lady said 
             "Too cute to feed to fishes, 
             "And so that Zeus might call you strong 
             "I'll grant most of your wishes. 
             "You may have My net and fork; 
             "I've better stored below, 
             "And you may have My oaken car 
             "To sail where winds might blow." 
                  The Lady went out sailing. 



                                                                                           1868
          

            
           "My crewmaids are not Mine to give, 
             "But you may call Me wife. 
             "Our wedding night, Poseidon dear, 
             "Must last you all your life, 
             "For you shall rule the Middle Sea 
             "And none shall take your place, 
             "But I shall rule the Ocean 
             "And the boundless deeps of Space." 
                  The Lady went out sailing. 
              
                --Copyright (c) 1988 by Sourdough Jackson 
            The Lizard King-"I am the Lizard King; I can do anything."(1:104/45.5) 
                                          HEAVEN IS A RESTING-PLACE 
              
             I reject the mortal fear 
             Which brings on doctrine-strife, 
             For I have seen with poet's eyes 
             The Door twixt Death and Life. 
             I know not what might lie beyond; 
             That time is yet to come. 
                  Heaven is a resting-place, 
                  A home to journey from. 
              
             The churchmen argue overmuch 
             On who is out and in, 
             On how they should be organized, 
             And how their neighbors sin. 
             The flag is not the nation; 
             The whole is more than sum; 
                  Heaven is a resting-place, 
                  A home to journey from. 
              
             When God is shrunk to fit a Church, 
             The greater part is lost, 
             The Holy Ghost too oft gets thrown 
             When "heathen trash" is tossed. 
             If God's knocked down to Patriarch, 
             Full half of God's struck dumb. 
                  Heaven is a resting-place, 
                  A home to journey from. 
              
             I shall fear not for my friends, 
             Nor worry for my kin, 
             And when I face that bright-lit Door 
             I'll joyfully go in. 
             All those dear to me will join 
             The Feast of Friends to come: 
                  Heaven is a resting-place, 
                  A home to journey from. 
              
                --Copyright (c) 1988 by Sourdough Jackson 
            The Lizard King-"I am the Lizard King; I can do 
            anything."(1:104/45.5) 
              


                                                PRAYER DRIVE 



                                                                                           1869
          

            
           With every turn of the disk in the drive: 
             To him who helps the poet thrive 
             By swapping silver for the use 
             Of verse, sweet blessings from the Muse. 
              
             But woe to him who plays the thief, 
             Deletes this message--grant him grief! 
             For every time the disk spins around, 
             His luck shall tumble to the ground. 
              
                       --Copyright (c) 1987 by Sourdough Jackson 
            The Lizard King-"I am the Lizard King; I can do 
            anything."(1:104/45.5) 
              
                                       ELEGY:  JAMES DOUGLAS MORRISON 
              
             Deirdre and Eogan and Conchobar 
             Ride the King's Road in an open car. 
             Deirdre stands proud as the car scrapes the walls. 
             The clearance is low; the bright lady falls. 
                  Swept to the road, she's gone for a ghost, 
                  Gone in the night on the Golden Coast. 
              
             Who, now, shall mourn for Usna's dead? 
             Who will drink poteen o'er Deirdre's fair head? 
             Her sorrow is spent, her howling is done, 
             For Alan and Arden and Naoise are gone. 
                  Swept as if mines, they're gone for a ghost, 
                  Gone in the night on the Golden Coast. 
              
             A spirit in frenzy arises from flames, 
             A poet out seeking the elder gods' names. 
             A swan in a duck-nest, a bow strung and drawn, 
             A druid a-singing to greet the pale dawn. 
                  Swept by a vision, he chases a ghost 
                  To exile, out on the Golden Coast. 
              
             Shaman and singer, he screams to the skies 
             His pain and his vision.  An arrow, he flies 
             Attended by Serpents, by Lizards, by Pan-- 
             Fair Deirdre's returned in the guise of a man. 
                  Swept by her spirit, possessed by a ghost, 
                  He leads the fey young of the Golden Coast. 
              
             In Eogan and Conchobar's car they now go, 
             He stands proud, defiant, where clearance is low. 
             The arrow has fallen, the sorrow has burned. 
             Who, now, will mourn the grave howler returned? 
                  Swept by her darkness, he's gone for a ghost. 
                  The Druid, the Changer, the Poteen-mad Host 
                  Is gone in the night on the Golden Coast. 
                --Copyright (c) 1988 by Sourdough Jackson 



                                                                                           1870
          

                                  ANOTHER ONE FOR JIM MORRISON 
              
             Where did he go, that vision-mad soul? 
             What did he see on his quest? 
             Who did he meet at the end of his night? 
             Why did he fail the test? 
              
             The shaman is old, a new must be found, 
             Take the young ones to a height. 
             Those who would be a shaman must jump. 
             The one who survives will be right. 
              
             He jumped--the serpent-strength filled his soul. 
             He jumped--the new lizard king. 
             He jumped--to the Lady he feared would be there. 
             He jumped--but rose not to take wing. 
              
             And I would now follow that worthy's descent, 
             I would dare Medicine's dive. 
             For I love the path he blazed for us all, 
             But I, unlike him, shall survive. 
              
             I jump--the snakes I feared buoy my soul. 
             I jump--my spirit now sings. 
             I jump--to the Lady I know will be there. 
             I jump--can it be I've grown wings? 
              
                --Copyright (c) 1988 by Sourdough Jackson 
            The Lizard King-"I am the Lizard King; I can do 
            anything."(1:104/45.5) 

                                            BENEATH THE FULL MOON 
              
             Come, I will sing it in your ear: 
             Your dancing days are come. 
             All the feeling you hold dear 
             Will lift your spirit some; 
             Dance until the rosey dawn 
             All in a gay, glad rag. 
                  I carry the Sun in a golden cup, 
                  The Moon in a silver bag. 
              
             And I will sing you merrily 
             Into my ring of dooms, 
             And I will twine into your hair 
             A wreath of maiden blooms. 
             You'll turn, when dancing days wane low 
             To Crone, but not to Hag. 
                  I carry the Sun in a golden cup, 
                  The Moon in a silver bag. 



                                                                                           1871
          

            
           As Maiden grows to Mother, 
             And Mother into Crone, 
             Dance, My darling daughter, 
             Beneath My rounded Moon. 
             Dance in argent splendor 
             Until your spirits flag. 
                  I carry the Sun in a golden cup, 
                  The Moon in a silver bag. 
              
                --Copyright (c) 1988 by Sourdough Jackson 
            The Lizard King-"I am the Lizard King; I can do 
            anything."(1:104/45.5) 
             
                                              Computer Blessing 
                
              Blessings on this fine machine,    
              May its data all be clean.    
              Let the files stay where they're put,    
              Away from disk drives keep all soot.    
              From its screen shall come no whines,    
              Let in no spikes on power lines.    
              As oaks were sacred to the Druids,    
              Let not the keyboard suffer fluids.    
              Disk Full shall be nor more than rarity,    
              The memory shall not miss its parity.    
              From the modem shall come wonders,    
              Without line noise making blunders.    
              May it never catch a virus,    
              And all its software stay desirous.    
              Oh let the printer never jam,    
              And turn my output into spam.    
              I ask of Eris, noble queen,    
              Keep Murphy far from this machine.   
                
              1988  Zhahai Stewart   
            Adelante - 300 meters above Boulder, CO (Opus 1:104/93) 

                                               Quarters Chant  
              <chorus> 
              Chant the quarters 
               one by one 
              chant the quarters round 
              Chant the quarters 
               one by one 
              and set the circle sound 
              . 
              Incense burn and 
               spirits lift 
              Chant the quarters round 
              Air comes to guard the east 
              to set the circle sound 



                                                                                           1872
          

            . 
              <Chorus> 
              Flames ignite and  
               spirits fly 
              Chant the Quarters round 
              Fire comes to guard the south 
              to set the circle sound 
              . 
              <Chorus> 
              Moisture comes and  
               spirits fill 
              Chant the quarters round 
              Water comes to guard the west 
              to set the circle sound 
              . 
              <guess what? Chorus...> 
              Life comes forth and  
               spirits soar 
              Chant the quarters round 
              Earth comes to guard the north 
              to set the circle sound 
              . 
              <one last time for the chorus...> 
              Quarters called one 
               by one 
              chant the quarters round 
              Circle raised as on 
               my friend 
              and sets the circle sound. 
              . 
                             Damon 
            The Masterwork Opus * Aurora, CO (303) 341-6614 * (1:104/55) 

                                                  THE RIVER 
             
              In the midst of death and violence 
              A light kindling in my heart 
              Is beginning to warm my soul 
              With new life. 
                
              I look back at the white water boiling behind me 
              With a shuddering anger at the treacherous, roiling white   light. 
              I look ahead at the broad, black expanse 
              Smooth, yet turbulent and rich with wonderful power. 
                 
              Deep moments of peace are the essence of what is coming 
              Deep pools of bliss are the essence of what is coming 
              Troubles are the food that nourishes a peaceful life 
              Troubles gently feed bliss with subtle flavours of delight 
                 
              I bow to all the Deities who are bringing me wealth unmeasured 
              And I thank the Lord, and I thank the Lady, and I thank my   Self. 
                                        Hugh Read , 02-15-89  12:17 
                              The Terraboard, Minneapolis, MN (Opus 1:282/341) 
              



                                                                                           1873
          

                                            SNOW 
              
             Goddess is beautiful dressed in white 
             The tiny white crystals that fall through the night 
             They fall so gentle, don't make a sound 
             As they drift to Earth and lay on the ground 
               
             Looking up, snow melts on my face 
             as I leave behind the hectic pace 
             I'm in another world, one of love 
             communing with the Goddess above 
               
             Drawing the power from all around me 
             one with Her, I truely wish to be 
             This is the quest for which I strive 
             It is my reason for being alive 
               
             Standing alone, staring at the sky 
             I feel a tear coming to my eye 
             The feeling of peace is awesome you see 
             I feel the Goddess surrounding me 
               
              
                   (C) 1989 - Steve Earl 
            Excelsior AIBBS - Monroe CT 203-268-1222 (1:141/222) 
              

                                              The Shaman's Call 

            The Night Bird's call draws evening near,  
            Stars and planets in the Darkening Sky appear,  
            People of the day to their beds retire,  
            Except for some Old Souls about a fire.    
             
            Sounds begin to rule the night,  
            As the Sun's bright rays fade from sight.  
            Evening noises begin to grow,  
            Cricket, Owl, and Wolf's lone howl.    
             
            Deeper into the Night we go,  
            The landscape lit by the fire's glow,  
            One old man begins to sway,  
            And one lone drum begins to play.    
             
            Boom goes the drumbeat soft and slow, 
            Tapping out the Heartbeat of the World Below, 
            Boom echoes the drumbeat's call to go, 
            To begin the ride to the World Below. 
             The flames leap high into the night, 
            And the World around us takes to flight, 
            Senses shift in the darking light, 
            And the Darkest Cave draws our sight. 
             Enter the Cavern, down we speed, 
            Into the Underworld the Drumbeat leads. 
            Faster than Dragon, than Hawk, than Snake, 
            Down the path the Shaman's feet race. 
             Deeper and deeper into the Womb of the Night, 
            Till up ahead appears the Light. 



                                                                                           1874
          

          Boom thunders the drum, and the walls seem to shake, 
            And out of the Cavern I stop by a lake. 
             I look around and I see Land so bright, 
            That I know mortal eyes have never beheld this sight. 
            In the Sky wheels Gods and Dragons in Flight, 
            While bathing in the Lake is the Goddess of the Night. 
             Her eyes see me clearly and I'm pierced by their Sight, 
            There is no hiding in the Night of Her Light. 
            The Animals come to Her call as she sings, 
            And drumbeat from above gives me wings. 
             Into the Sky my form changes still, 
            On Hawk wings I ascend from the hill. 
            Higher and higher into the Magical Sky, 
            I soar on Wings lit in Magical Fire. 
             This Bond, this chain, this freedom sublime, 
            The Shaman's gift, boon, bane, the Drumbeat Divine. 
            The Dream that brings Visions into the Night, 
            The Night that is brighter than any Daylight. 
             The sight of a Tree draws me near, 
            The Great World Tree has brought me here. 
            The Tree of All Knowledge grows out of sight, 
            Even Hawk eyes are dimmed by it's light. 
            Form changes swiftly, Snake am I now, 
            Across the World Tree I wander uncowed. 
            The Tree of Life, of Knowledge, of Power and Death, 
            The Tree that for Shaman will give Shaman Breath. 
             The Drum fills my body, 
            My brain is on fire, 
            Visions of Forces dance in the Light, 
            And the drumbeat caresses me, somewhere in the Night. 
             The Tree fades from view, 
            My Soul takes to flight, 
            And into the World, Dragon Stalks the Night. 
            Back to the Cavern the worm passes nigh. 
             Drumbeat calls, caresses, commands, 
            Back to the Waking World the drumbeat demands. 
            Up through the cave I ascend in the Night, 
            Form shifts so slightly in my bemused sight. 
             Dragon claws to Human feet, 
            And to the fire where the Shaman meet. 
            Around the fire slowly the Drummer keeps beat, 
            Drawing home the Voyagers to the fire's night heat. 
             Glazed expressions look into the night, 
            But in Shaman's eye is still the Light. 
            Slack faced expressions for others to see, 
            But in Shaman's eye, is the Fire that Frees. 
             Shaman stares into the fire, 
            Then quietly into the night he retires. 
            Off to his rest he fades from sight, 
            Until the Drum calls once more to Night's Light. 
              Shadow Hawk 
            Baker Street Irregular * Ft Walton Beach FL (1:366/222) 



                                                                                           1875
          

                                           Storm 
               
             Lightning flashing, wind howls through trees, 
             Storm is rising, Mortals flee. 
             Like armies marching, clouds parade by, 
             Thunder shaking, rain hides the sky. 
               
             Earth trembles under Titan's fist, 
             As Elementals meet in their violent tryst. 
             Jagged bolts from Heaven descend 
             
             and Tree their goal to rend. 
               
             Fierce are the powers of the storm, 
             Chaos rules and dissolves Reality's form. 
             Fear walks the Earth in the Lightning's stark Kiss, 
             While rain hides the Shadows in Unholy mists. 
               
             But like all things this to must pass, 
             And after a time, storm ceases to harass, 
             The wind abates and the thunder mutes, 
             And Lightning ends it's violent pursuit. 
               
             Sun peeks shyly from behind Thunderhead, 
             And a faint rainbow across the sky does thread. 
             One lone frog begins to sing, 
             And a few bright birds take to wing. 
               
             Slowly the mortal creatures crawl forth, 
             To bask in the Sun's strengthening warmth, 
             But even as the light returns to day, 
             Elsewhere Storm will enter the fray. 
               
             Storm into peace, night into day, 
             This is the circle, the Divine at play. 
             First one then the Other is the cycle of Life, 
             No stagnation, no quiet, just unending strife. 
               
             The Circle of Life is the Game we play, 
             While upon this Earth our bodies decay, 
             And when our storm of Life goes by, 
             Into the Light we must all die. 
               
               
             Life into death, dark into light, 
             This is the Circle, the Divine delight, 
             To experience death, and be reborn from the night, 
             To once again behold Divine Starlight. 
               
             Circling endlessly Eons fly past, 
             But even this too in the end won't last, 
             When the last sparrow falls and night draws to a close, 
             The last to die is one final rose. 



                                                                                           1876
          

                                        Storm  (cont.)
               
             When all is merged in Divine Bliss, 
             And nothing is left the Divine to kiss, 
             Then up from the wells of Chaos will flow, 
             New Life, new forms the Divine to know. 
               
             Cycle upon cycle, Life upon death, 
             The Eternal cycle, Brahman's breath, 
             Form into Chaos, Chaos into form, 
             This is the Rule to which Life will conform. 
               
             One rule for life, one rule alone, 
             That nothing is Changeless, and Chaos follows form, 
             One Rule for Day and One rule for Night, 
             That Nothing is Eternal in the Eternal's sight. 

                                      Shadow Hawk , 03-12-89  14:19   

                                           A VICTIM OF IDEOLOGIES  
                 PLACE was just a place. 
                  without form or future, 
                   barren of inhabitants. 
               - 
                 Then RAIN appeared - and gave PLACE moisture. 
                 And SUN lent PLACE light. 
                 And EARTH molded PLACE into form. 
                 And WIND and BREEZE breathed 
                  sweet airs into PLACE. 
               - 
                 And CLOUD smiled and MOON shone. 
                 And STAR brought forth beauty, 
                  wonder, magic. 
               - 
                 And PLACE awakened. 
                  And grew trees, and grass. 
                  Animals appeared. 
                   And PLACE was graced with 
                    lakes, and ponds, 
                    and light, and shadow. 
               - 
                 'Thank you!', cried PLACE. 
                  'I am alive. Thank you.' 
               - 
                 And the elements conferred 
                  among themselves, 
                 And preened, and swelled, and gloated. 
                 'See!', cried SUN. 'We are all powerful-' 
                   'we have a RIGHT to be proud!' 
               - 
                 'Ah!', said RAIN. 'But I was the first!' 
                  'And without me', said EARTH, 
                   'PLACE would be shapeless!' 



                                                                                           1877
          

             - 
                 And the elements fought, and argued, and battled 
                 RAIN and WIND changed to STORM, 
                  killing, ripping trees asunder. 
                 EARTH shook, imposing vast destruction. 
                 CLOUD, MOON and STAR retreated, 
                  while SUN flared, burning all to ruin. 
               - 
                 And angered, with bruised pride, 
                  the elements departed. 
                 Only BREEZE remained upon this barren, 
                  blackened desert that was PLACE. 
               - 
                 'Oh cruel brethren! What have we done?' 
                   and BREEZE tried to resurrect PLACE, 
                   but it's power was too weak. 
               - 
                 And so dead PLACE remains 
                  the mournful cry of BREEZE 
                   it's only voice. 

                                                 Shadow Hawk 
               
             Deep in Shadow, hidden from sight, 
             Wandering by, like a thief in the night. 
             Slipping through cracks in Reality's wall, 
             Flying alone through Chaos' Hall. 
               
             Alone in the world, away from the Light, 
             Except for the company of the Goddess of the Night. 
             Deep is the Well of Humanity's Soul, 
             And deeper still the place I must go. 
               
             Hawk on the Wing, silent in flight, 
             Hunter unseen, hidden by night. 
             Lost in the Shadow, beyond mortal sight, 
             Ascending beyond the Gods' lofty height. 
               
             Wings of Fire carry me free, 
             Far from this place I will be. 
             Left behind the ones I knew, 
             Fellow travellers there are but few. 
               
             Chaos spins by unblinking eyes, 
             Reality splits and reason flys, 
             None can follow me in this Place, 
             Lost to the world without a trace. 
               
             Realities come and Realities fall, 
             Yet onward I fly heeding the Unknown call. 
             Farther and faster the message I heed, 
             Flying alone, spurred on by need. 
               
             None may go where Chaos hold court, 
             But there my mind seems to cavort. 
             Alone and silent I scream in the dark, 
             While visions and sunbursts tear me apart. 
               



                                                                                           1878
          

           Realities flow with plastic speed, 
             Angels and Demons from me do feed. 
             The world whirls wildly around the Tree, 
             But soon, I know, I will be free. 
             
            Marcus, Baker Street Irregular * Ft Walton Beach FL (1:366/222) 

                                              Magickal Reveries 
                   Dedicated to Bill Heidrick 
                   ...who opened the door... 
                    
                    
                   I am as the Moon 
                   Our Light is ever changing 
                   Healing, gathering 
                    
            copyright, Hugh Read, 1987  Permission is herby given for  
            noncommercial reproduction of this copyrighted work, so long as  
            it is reproduced in full and this notice is included. 
               
                    
                   As Capricorn begins the year darkly 
                   From the depths of light 
                   As the distant Sun 
                   Begins Her Northward Path 
                    
                   Saturn begins her leaden rainbow dance 
                   Giving form to time 
                   The Gates to Formlessness 
                   Make way for new forms 
                    
                   To emerge out of Saturnian Black 
                   Gates of Formlessness 
                   Are now used by wise souls 
                   Seeking Endlessness 
                    
                   As new forms dance in, wise souls may dance out 
                   To Eternity 
                   To explore timeless states 
                   And spaceless being 
                    
                   Saturn planet of time and timelessness 
                   Space and spacelessness 
                   Of limits and freedom 
                   Is our leaden key 
                    
                   To the golden place of immortality 
                   The Bliss of Saturn 
                   Is sweet, rich bliss, indeed 
                   In dark Capricorn 
                    
                   Agape is subtle wine, holy...pure 
                   While Chubby Eros 
                   Is a belching beer 
                   Good old, sad old lust 



                                                                                           1879
          

                  
                 Is Thelema will with desire charged 
                   Is Thelema greed 
                   Drunk on yeasty-rich lust 
                   Rapine in her heart 
                   Or is Thelema subtle will, divine 
                   Heaven's Spirit scent 
                   Beyond sight, will or mind 
                   Like good Christian Faith 
                    
                   As Capricorn begins the year darkly 
                   From the depths of light 
                   As the distant Sun 
                   Begins Her Northward Path 
                    
                   Saturn begins her leaden rainbow dance 
                   Giving form to time 
                   The Gates to Formlessness 
                   Make way for new forms 
                    
                   To emerge out of Saturnian Black 
                   Gates of Formlessness 
                   Are now used by wise souls 
                   Seeking Endlessness 
                    
                   As new forms dance in, wise souls may dance out 
                   To Eternity 
                   To explore timeless states 
                   And spaceless being 
                    
                   Saturn planet of time and timelessness 
                   Space and spacelessness 
                   Of limits and freedom 
                   Is our leaden key 
                    
                   To the golden place of immortality 
                   The Bliss of Saturn 
                   Is sweet, rich bliss, indeed 
                   In dark Capricorn 
                    
                   Isis spread your loving wings over me 
                   Enfold me within 
                   Protect me, Mother, 
                   In my loneliness 
                    
                   Isis spread your loving wings over me 
                   Enfold me within 
                   Lead me to earthly love 
                   Lead me to my Self 
                    
                   Isis spread your loving wings over me 
                   Enfold me within 
                   Surround me with lovers 
                   Who heal me with love 



                                                                                           1880
          

                  
                 Isis spread your loving wings over me 
                   Enfold me within 
                   Allow me loving friends 
                   Who heal me with love 
                   Isis spread your loving wings over me 
                   Enfold me within 
                   Lead me to earthly love 
                   Lead me to my Self 
                    
                   When bright spark was struck at dark equinox 
                   Hard clarity came 
                   As Sun struck Saturn 
                   In His Earthy home 
                    
                   The Astral Year begins in Saturn's house 
                   In chill mystery 
                   The leaden wheel begins 
                   Her twelve month circle 
                    
                   From Earth to Air to Water to Fire 
                   Then again begin 
                   Spinning wheel of magick 
                   Through time and through space 
                    
                   Twelve stations of the Elemental Cross 
                   Break the calender 
                   Wear tattered calender 
                   Like torn beggar's rags 
                    
                   Twelve mundane months slip over Heaven's Year 
                   Solstice to solstice 
                   Tearing the paper year 
                   With ancient power 
                    
                   Now the dark solstice has come and has gone 
                   Year is born anew 
                   New Year's day ahead 
                   Surly overlay 
                    
                   Vying with our more ancient starry year 
                   The New Roman Year 
                   Trys hard to hide the Gods 
                   Nor can it hide them 
                    
                   For their power is born ever anew 
                   Through the twelve stations 
                   And deep in each month 
                   Their Life births Magick 
                    
                   As Virgo dies the dark Crone encroaches 
                   Hard with Grey Power 
                   Harsh-shrivelled with Wisdom 
                   Of a long chaste life 



                                                                                           1881
          

                  
                 What seems to be ugly, mean grows in strength 
                   Like a walnut shell 
                   Wrinkled shell, wrinkled nut 
                   Wrinkled wise, old brain 
                   Cruel Death mercifully releases Beauty 
                   Libra roses rise 
                   Gentle Autumn breezes 
                   Pink, red, soft petals 
                    
                   From peak to craggy peak the Horn'd One leaps 
                   Fire in his eyes 
                   Hard shouldered...white-hot chest 
                   Antlered man on high 
                    
                   Blue lightening flashes from his bright-hot thighs 
                   Swift knees crash through trees 
                   In the ancient forest 
                   Of my ancient mind 
                    
                   From those depths my ancient powers rise 
                   Fire in my eyes 
                   Soft heart hardens.  Wisdom 
                   Surges in my thighs 
                    
                   Knees and ankles loosen, muscles tighten 
                   I am the Horn'd One! 
                   I am He!  I am Free! 
                   Ancient One in me! 
                    
                   Affirmation:  I am Pan!  I am Cernunnos!  I am the Horn'd        One.   I am
            Shiva!  I am He!  I am Atman!  I am Free! 
                    
                    
                   Is Peace possible on Battlefield Earth 
                   No.  Not now, Kali 
                   Your Yuga demands War 
                   War is our teacher 
                    
                   Only through War can we learn to escape 
                   Your prison of Time 
                   The only Peace there is 
                   Is hidden within 
                    
                   Each individual heart.  Turn within 
                   Make that your War 
                   Exploit the Battlefield 
                   By turning away 
                    
                   That is War enough in Kali's prison 
                   Of Time and of Space 
                   Learn to reverse the Field 
                   And find your own Peace 
                    



                                                                                           1882
          

                                  WHEN SATURN RULED AQUARIUS 
                    
                   The Kiss of Saturn is hot, black, fierce, deep 
                   A hint of Wild Ass 
                   In her blue-black hair 
                   Breasts soft as black Lead 
                    
                   Moulten hips steaming with empowerment 
                   Belly bold with Lust 
                   That heals...and heals...and heals 
                   Uranus!  She cries. 
                    
                   "Wild Ass!" I reply. "I am set on you!" 
                   My Wild Ass prances 
                   "For I am Set, my Nepthys 
                   My sweet Wild Ass 
                    
                   I come to claim your dark powers tonight 
                   In Binah tonight 
                   For we are in Binah 
                   Deep set in Binah 
                    
                   Saturn am I!  Shivah am I! I AM! 
                   I am Atman!  THAT! 
                   I claim you Dark Nepthys 
                   THAT we may be ONE!" 
                    
                   In Atman hide the Secrets of Maya 
                   Terrible Maya 
                   (When we are in Her Claws) 
                   Is kind in Atman 
                    
                   There is a reversal in Atman 
                   Of subtle beauty 
                   Maya becomes God's Will 
                   And I am as God 
                    
                   In Atman.  I am as God, Will Supreme 
                   Soft as a Feather 
                   Strong, gentle, wise and firm, 
                   Free!  I am Atman! 
                    
                   I am Atman.  I am Free.  I am He. 
                   In Atman, I AM 
                   As God in Atman. 
                   Free!  I am Atman! 
                   



                                                                                           1883
          

                                         SCARABEUS 
                    
                   Golden Fire in my Heart, Immortal! 
                   Dark Sacred Beetle 
                   Flaming in my breast! 
                   Immortality 
                    
                   Hidden in the dung of my existence! 
                   That filthy dung 
                   I roll across my Sky 
                   For all to distain 
                    
                   Hides The Stone of the Wise from prying eyes 
                   And the Mid-night Sun 
                   Hidden by dung-like Earth 
                   Yet lighting the Moon 
                    
                   Hides behind my life lighting up my Soul 
                   As I roll my dung 
                   Making Soul immortal 
                   As I roll my Stone 
                    
                                                   Minerva 

                   I met Minerva just now near her tree 
                   Resting from battle 
                   Her helmet on her knee 
                   Hair tumbled on breasts 
                    
                   Parted by brass, surrounded by steel plate 
                   Dark nipples glistened 
                   With dew-like sweat of war 
                   Pale arms quivering 
                    
                   Eager for battle's harsh life-death embrace 
                   Yes! She said to me. 
                   Hell yes! she said.  Get laid! 
                   Enter the battle. 
                    
                   My Virgins serve me well, my son!  Get laid! 
                   Let your juices flow! 
                   (She spit an olive pit) 
                   Get in there and fight! 
                    
                   She gathered her pale skirts around her hips 
                   Stood, covering strong thighs 
                   Took her shield, sword, helmet 
                   With war shriek was gone 
                    



                                                                                           1884
          

                                       LOVE IS THE LAW 
                            
                   Do what thou wilt is the Whole of the Law 
                   The time of The Will 
                   Bursts forth Now, in the Spring 
                   Implacable bud! 
                    
                   Let your Love burst forth and blossom freely 
                   Thunder of roses 
                   Unfettered by harsh will 
                   Love willed to be Free 
                    
                   To soar with on Her Wings into New Heavens 
                   Over pure New Earths 
                   Love is Will purified 
                   Love is Her own Law! 
                    
                   Sun is born again in primitive Light 
                   With Arian Force 
                   In the Spring House of Mars 
                   New Life Exploding 
                    
                   From cold Winter's Icy dark Womb 
                   Gives force to our Wills 
                   Time of re-SOL-ution 
                   We are born again 
                    
                   Juices of Spring wash us from Winter Womb 
                   As Spring buds push out 
                   We drop from Her belly 
                   Like damp, new born colts 
                    
                   This is the time to re-SOL-ve our new lives 
                   With Nature's Forces 
                   Supporting and healing 
                   As Old Winter dies 

                                                   MAY EVE 

            Walpurgis Night, the time is right,
            The ancient powers awake.
            So dance and sing, around the ring,
            And Beltane magic make.

            Walpurgis Night, Walpurgis Night,
            Upon the eve of May,
            We'll merry meet, and summer greet,
            For ever and a day.

            New life we see, in flower and tree,
            And summer comes again.
            Be free and fair, like earth and air,
            The sunshine and the rain.

            Walpurgis Night, Walpurgis Night,
            Upon the eve of May,
            We'll merry meet, and summer greet,
            For ever and a day.



                                                                                           1885
          

          As magic fire be our desire
            To tread the pagan way,
            And our true will find and fulfil,
            As dawns a brighter day.

            Walpurgis Night, Walpurgis Night,
            Upon the eve of May,
            We'll merry meet, and summer greet,
            For ever and a day.

            The pagan powers this night be ours,
            Let all the world be free,
            And sorrows cast into the past,
            And future blessed be!

            Walpurgis Night, Walpurgis Night,
            Upon the eve of May,
            We'll merry meet, and summer greet,
            For ever and a day.

                                               Doreen Valiente
                                   "Witchcraft For Tomorrow", pp. 192-193

                                        INVOCATION OF THE HORNED GOD 

            By the flame that burneth bright,
            O Horned One!
            We call thy name into the night,
            O Ancient One!
            Thee we invoke, by moon-led sea,
            By the standing stone and the twisted tree.
            The we invoke, where gather thine own,
            By the nameless shrine forgotten and alone.
            Come where the round of the dance is trod,
            Horn and hoof of the goatfoot god!
            By moonlit meadow on dusky hill,
            When the haunted wood is hushed and still,
            Come to the charm of the chanted prayer,
            As the moon bewitches the midnight air.
            Evoke thy powers, that potent bide
            In shining stream and the secret tide,
            In fiery flame by starlight pale,
            In shadowy host that rides the gale,
            And by the fern-brakes fairy haunted
            Of forests wild and woods enchanted.
            Come! O come!
            To the heart-beat's drum!
            Come to us who gather below
            When the broad white moon is climbing slow
            Through the stars to the heaven;s height.
            We hear thy hoofs on the wind of night!
            As black tree-branches shake and sigh,
            By joy and terror we know thee nigh.
            We speak the spell thy power unlocks
            At solstice, Sabbat, and equinox,
            Word of virtue the veil to rend,
            From primal dawn to the wide world's end,
            Since time began--



                                                                                           1886
          

          The blessing of Pan!
            Blessed be all in hearth and hold,
            Blessed in all worth more than gold.
            Blessed be in strength and love,
            Blessed be wher'er we rove.
            Vision fade not from our eyes
            Of the pagan paradise
            Past the gates of death and birth,
            Our inheritance of the earth.
            From our soul the song of spring
            Fade not in our wandering.
            Our life with all life is one,
            By blackest night or noonday sun.
            Eldest of gods, on thee we call,
            Blessing be on thy creatures all.
                                               Doreen Valiente
                                    "Witchcraft For Tomorrow" pp. 190-191


                                       INVOCATION OF THE MOON GODDESS 

            Diana, queen of night,
            In all your beauty bright,
            Shine on us here,
            And with your silver beam
            Unlock the gate of dream;
            Rise bright and clear.
            On earth and sky and sea,
            Your magic mystery
            Its spell shall cast,
            Wherever leaf may grow,
            Wherever tide may flow,
            Till all be past.
            O secret queen of power,
            At this enchanted hour
            We ask your boon.
            May fortune's favor fall
            Upon true witches all,
            O Lady Moon!
                                               Doreen Valiente
                                     "Witcraft For Tomorrow" pp. 189-190

                                            THE SPELL OF THE CORD 

            By the knot of one
            The spell's begun.
            By the knot of two
            It cometh true.
            By the knot of three
            Thus shall it be.
            By the knot of four
            'Tis strengthened more.
            By the knot of five
            So may it thrive.
            By the knot of six
            The spell we fix.
            By the knot of seven
            The Stars of Heaven.



                                                                                           1887
          

          By the knot of eight
            The hand of fate.
            Byt the knot of nine
            The thing is mine.
                                               Doreen Valiente
                                    "Wichcraft For Tomorrow" pp. 188-189


                                               THE COVEN SPELL 

            O ancient ones of heaven, earth and sea,
            We chant the coven spell, thus shall it be!
            To music of the night-wind blowing free,
            We chant the coven spell, thus shall it be!

            The owl hoots within the hollow tree,
            The black cat runs by night silently,
            The toad beneath the stone dwells secretly,
            We chant the coven spell, thus shall it be!

            To moon that draws the tides of air and sea,
            We chant the coven spell, thus shall it be!
            To god that bides beneath the greenwood tree,
            We chant the coven spell, thus shall it be!

            By witches' garter bound about the knee,
            By staff and cauldron and all powers that be,
            We will the thing in our minds we see,
            We chant the coven spell, thus shall it be!

                        (Pause..........)

            The Spell is flowing like the sea,
            The spell is growing like the tree,
            Like flame that burns and blazes free.
            We chant the spell, thus shall it be!
            We chant the spell, thus shall it be!
            We chant the spell, thus shall it be!
            IT IS!

                                               Doreen Valiente
                                    "Witchcraft For Tomorrow" pp. 181-182

                                                 INVOCATION 
            (traditionally used after the Communion of the five senses)

            Diana of the Rounded Moon,
            The queen of all enchantments here,
            The wind is crying through the trees,
            As we invoke thee to appear.

            The cares of day departed are,
            The realm of night belongs to thee;
            And we in love and kinship join
            With all things that are wild and free.



                                                                                           1888
          


          As powers of magic round us move,
            Now let time's self dissolve and fade.
            Here in place between the worlds
            May we be one with nature made.

            Thy consort is the Horned One,
            Whose sevenfold pipes make music sweet.
            Old Gods of life and love and light
            Be here as merrily we meet!

            For ye circle's round we tread,
            And unto ye the wine we pour;
            The sacred Old Ones of this land,
            Ye we invoke by ancient lore --

            By magic moon and pagan spell,
            By all the secrets of the night,
            Dreams and desires and mystery,
            Borne on the moonbeam's silver light.

            Now may we hear, or may we see,
            Or may we know within the heart,
            A token of true magic made,
            Ere from this circle we depart.

                   (Pause...........)

            O goddess-queen of night,
            O Horn'ed One of might,
            In earth and sky and sea
            May peace and blessing be!

                                               Doreen Valiente
                                    "Witchcraft For Tomorrow" pp. 168-169



                                                                                           1889
          


                                        The Pentagram 


            I invoke Ancient Powers of The Star
            The Powers of Five
            The Spiral Powers
            The Powers of Earth
            I invoke the Ancient Powers of Life
            Star in the Circle
            In the Iron Circle
            Quaint, ancient symbol
            So ancient, primordial and timeless
            Dark symbol of life
            On planets bearing life
            Deep in DNA 
            Deeply branded in the Heart of our Earth
            Touchstone of Wisdom
            Of Ancient Knowledge, NOW,
            Living in the stars
            I call out through the Circled Iron Star
            For my Star Power
            Out through the Galaxies
            Claiming Dark Powers
                                                  Similodon

                                                   Blood  


            Is that you that I hear? 
            Your footsteps on the ground above my head. 
            Your hands apon the headstone that bears my name. 
            You are a dweller in the night!  Beware I bite! 
            On cloak as black as sin, I float, I fly. 
            In hunger burning bright, seaking prey. 
            Life is flowing deep within. 
            I send it bubbling fourth. 
            and then I drink it in again. 
            Another night, never day. 
            Away away, into the dark I flee! 
            where I might hide. 
            waiting for another night. 
            Did you hear? 
            Did you see? 
            Do you flee? 
            Or is that your hand I find near mine? 
            In the dark!  Dwellers in the night! 
            Beware we bite! 
                                                  Similodon 



                                                                                           1890
          

                                         PANDEMONIUM 
             
            Hi, ho, it's Spring again, 
             
            Out of my eye's corner 
             
            I thought I saw the Horned Man, the Green Man 
             
            Charging down the glen, 
             
             
            It was not Pan, 
             
            I did not get that freezing in the bone, 
             
            Half fear, half ecstacy. 
             
            Perhaps I was mistook, 
             
            And only wished I saw, 
             
             
            And maybe Pan is playing in a rock band, 
             
            Traveling in a wave of liquorous riot, 
             
            George 'something' and the Destroyers 
             
                       Sonia Brock

                                               New Words & Old 
             
              In the autumn of the lightnings, in the mighty-voic`ed throng 
              In the twilight were the offerings, with both chants and   full-throat song: 
                    These the People, born to silence 
                    These the Seekers, born to sight 
                    These the Wanderers, born to roaming 
                    These frail Humans, born to night... 
              In the winter's swirling blizzard, in the quaking of great   trees In the
            night-black child of charring, in the wavering,   fitful breeze: 
                    These the Wicca, seeking knowledge 
                    These the Shamen, knowing care 
                    These the Students, always reading 
                    These the Hopeful, who despair... 
              In the spring-tide's joyous growing, in the flower and the leaf   In the summer's
            dearth and plenty, saving up to stoke Belief: 
                    Hear the Mother, gentle-voicings 
                    Hear the Father, rumbled whisper 
                    Hear the Children, gay and laughing 
                    Hear the Many -- sing your vesper... 
              Now the Bard and Druid gather 
              Now the Priestess calls afar 
              Now the Time to Watch and Listen 
              Now the Time to practice more! 
                       +*+*+ 
                                          Kihe Blackeagle 



                                                                                           1891
          

                                      SPRING/SUMMER POEM 
                                               By: Shadow Hawk

                                       Falling 
             
            Circling skyward on wings of fire, 
            Drawn aloft by heart's desire, 
            Endless expanses of starry night, 
            In Endless freedom he finds his delight. 
             
            Down below whispers rise to his ear, 
            The green earth lays calling, calliing him near, 
            Circling skyward he hears the sweet call, 
            And folding his wings, begins the great fall. 
             
            Wind whispers then sings then a great roar, 
            From the high heavens his body he tore. 
            Faster than Eagle he falls to the ground, 
            Till even the sky's call was lost in the sound. 
             
            Below lays the Earth, she holds out her arms, 
            Enfolding her Lover with her Endless charms, 
            Deeper he plummets into that fair place, 
            Blinded and bewildered by her loving grace. 
             
            Mountians and hills, river and sea, 
            Summon him near, and answer his need, 
            Stretching her arms, she gathers him nigh, 
            As stonelike he falls, a mote from God's eye. 
             
            Hurry, oh hurry, she beckons him come, 
            As mountains surround him, blocking the sun, 
            His breath is fire, igniting her love, 
            Her lover returns, from Sun far above. 
             
            Deep in her body he plunges his fire, 
            Passion to passion, fire strikes desire, 
            Shudderingly, shakingly, he rises above, 
            Surrounded by the warmth of his Lady's love. 
             
            Sinking once more, she pulls him near, 
            Gathering him close the stars reappear, 
            Deep in her body, awaiting the day, 
            Till once more, skyward, He rises to play. 

                                              A Healing Spell  

            Wrap thee in cotton 
            Bind thee with love 
            Protection from pain 
            Surrounds like a glove. 
            May the brightest of blessings 
            Surround thee this night. 
            For thou art cared for, 
            Healing thoughts sent in flight... 



                                                                                           1892
          

                                     Banishing The Circle 
                                              By: Devin Storm 
             
            The Circle is open 
            But not forgotten 
            The Circle is unbroken 
            Nothing is forgotten 
            The Circle is free 
            Nothing is EVER forgotten 
            Blessed Be! 
            by Devin Storm 

                                                  The Fool 
                                               By: Stormy Gael

            Fool!  Fool!  Fool!
            Where is thy strength now oh mighty warrior?
            In the hands of another?
            Oh trusting fool that thou art,
            Have you no experience to teach you better?

            Thou hast lived many years.
            Where is thy wisdom?
            Even the youths know better.
            Keep your own counsel, old one,
            And be safe; share it and die.

            Stand alone against the world
            And increase your strength a hundredfold.
            Build you thine own armor and fight;
            Forge thine own sword with the blood of life
            And none can touch thee.

            But you, you fool,
            You have put your trust in another,
            A veritable stranger in your own camp.
            Who is the wiser?  I ask,
            The giver or the taker?

            Methinks you tread a dangerous road.
            Walk easy, old one; pay heed to your steps.
            Perhpas there is hope, yet.
            Survival may still be yours,
            But at what price?

            A price I willingly pay.
            Enough said, young counselor.

                                               HYMN TO ARTEMIS 

                                         by

                                    FRATER U.'.D.'.

                                Artemis, my sibyl sibling
                                huntress of the earthy skies,
                                wayfaress in silver rippling -
                                in your hands my power lies ...



                                                                                           1893
          


                              lies my dream and all my making
                                muted might in liquid pose,
                                lies my giving and my taking,
                                caressing friends and smiting foes

                                in your light and metal sheen,
                                waxing, waning, touched, unseen,
                                ever-moving curv‚d bow
                                ever-whirring arrow's flow
                                to the core of mine own heart
                                hitting mark, a gentle dart

                                strikes my body, strikes my soul,
                                fondles part and fondles whole
                                towards my ever-pulsing spell:
                                give me heaven, give me hell
                                take from me what makes me sink
                                with your sleight of hand and wink -

                                Goddess of the nightly sweep,
                                through the starlit mires seep,
                                never solemn, yet possessed,
                                by your mastery expressed,

                                all your vision's harvest keeps ...
                                all your vision's harvest keeps ...

                                           Today the Moon is There 

                                                  Hugh Read



              In that mighty, non-human Power Place
              Of mind that Is Not
              Lord of the Galaxy
              Can you hear my cry

              For fulfilment of my broken being
              Faulted, cracked, torn
              From that first painfilled day
              Of savage, late birth

              Send to me streamers of healing power
              That will make me new
              Of more eternal stuff
              Than this failed human

              Being is moulded from...fill in the sad cracks
              Seal the aweful breaks
              Smooth and fill the fissures
              With eternity

              That I may serve humanity wisely
              With pleasure and joy
              Being more than human
              Helping others grow

              Into the same places of dark power



                                                                                           1894
          

            That are full of light
              That I hunger to touch
              And to feed upon

              Touch me now, this day
              Lord of the Galaxy
              Put me on thy Way
              Lord of the Galaxy
              Put me on my Way

                                             the witches ballad 

            Oh, I have been beyond the town, Where nightshade black and mandrake grow, and I
            have been and I have seen What righteous folk would fear to know!

            For I have heard, at still midnight, Upon the hilltop far, forlorn, With note that
            echoed through the dark, The winding of the heathe horn.

            And I have seen the fire aglow, And glinting from the magic sword, And with the
            inner eye beheld The Horned One, the Sabbat's lord.

            We drank the wine, and broke the bread, And ate it in the Old One's name. We linked
            our hands to make the ring, And laughed and leaped the Sabbat game.

            Oh, little do the townsfolk reck, When dull they lie within their bed! Beyond the
            streets, beneath the stars, A merry round the witches tread!

            And round and round the circle spun, Until the gates swung wide ajar, That bar the
            boundaries of the earth, From faery realms that shine afar.

            Oh, I have been and I have seen In magic worlds of Otherwhere. For all this world
            may praise or blame, For ban or blessing nought I care.

            For I have been beyond the town, Where meadowsweet and roses grow, And there such
            music did I hear As worldly-righteous never know.

            Enjoy!!!!!!!

            Blessed Be

                                                 Inquisition 
            Again the burning came,
            She felt the heat, the searing pain
            a cry lanced through her heart
               "Why, My Lady, Why"

            She lay quietly, remembering
            lost within the labrynth of the past
            and the future
            she did not feel the bite of the cruel blade.



                                                                                           1895
          


          Bleeding, moaning, she saw the man
            his face, and heart masked with black
            she knew his choices and his pain
            Oh, to cause pain, to accept his own
            if only she could Touch him, Heal him.

            "I love you" she whispered
            dark eyes calm, yet full of pain
            "Don't " cried the man "I want to see you die"
            "I love you and forgive you" she said
            tears rolled freely down her cheeks

            Again, and again the searing pain
            As the man applied the red hot blade
            "Do you still love me, and forgive me" he screamed?

            Despite the pain she answered strongly
            "I do", She smiled
            "Blessed be" she whispered.

            A wave of pain sent her among the stars.
            "My Lady" she cried "I'm frightened"
            Strong arms held her close
            "You have done well my child, rest now"

            The man watched as the blade grew cold
            As the young body before him cooled
            tears streamed down his face
            and he whispered
                "Forgive me"

                                              2 Ritual Prayers 
             Copyright 1991 Anahita-Gula (pseud.).  May be reproduced with acknowledgment.



            We clean this night our altar and our room
            To build our Temple.  Here then, we have spread
            The pentacle, athame and the broom,
            With God and Goddess candles at the head.
            So dress we now our Priestess in her Crown:
            The Circle's cut in perfect Trust and Love.
            So call the Quarters, dance the Witches' Round
            And beckon down the Moon from high above.

            Sept. 1987.


            Another sample: this one is sung to the "Witches' Rune":

            (Introduction is spoken, as an Invocation)
            "Indeed, they occupy the throne room together.
            In the divine chamber, the dwelling place of joy,
            Before them their gods take their places.
            To their utterances their attention is turned."
                    From the Akkadian Hymn to Ishtar.



                                                                                           1896
          


          Lord of Sun and Lady Moon,
            Dark at night and bright at noon,
            See my off'ring, hear my call:
            Lord and Lady, guard us all.

            Sky-God An, Earth-Goddess Ki,
            All do honour unto thee.
            Spread your seed upon the ground,
            Bring forth life fecund and round.

            Holy Queen of living things,
            She whose bloom the summer brings,
            Bless us, Lady, give us cheer
            As we wander through the year.

            Royal Shepherd, Mountain King
            Lofty Bull of whom we sing,
            Fill our bowls with waters sweet,
            Spread the seeds of corn and wheat.

            Bless our lips and bless our breast,
            Guide us gently to our rest.
            Bless our sheep and bless our corn,
            Ease our grief when we must mourn.

            Sing the song and join the rite,
            Praise the day and bless the night.
            Thank the Gods for what They bear:
            Earth and Water, Fire and Air.

            November 1983.

            I may be reached at P.O. Box 732, Station B., Ottawa, Ontario, Canada.  



                                                                                           1897
          

                                         "Rainbows" 
                                              Jennifer Holding

            Where dwelleth my Lady in this land of Night?
            She dwelleth in stars and satin moonlight.
            She veileth her visage 'neath clouds spun of silk,
            And the Night-Sky's a river of my sweet Mother's milk.

            Where dwelleth my good Lord on this Summer's day?
            He dwelleth in birdsong and fragrance of hay.
            He sleeps by the river with pipes in his hand,
            And he sends his love smiling through the fruit of the land.

            Where dwelleth my Lady at Morning's first light?
            And where is my Lord on the eve of the Night?
            At Luna's last shining, or Sun's final ray,
            Their passion paints Rainbows 'tween the Night and the Day!



                                                  ELEMENTS 

            Fire on Fire
            Light and Power, 
            Warmth and Energy
            They did generate.

            Earth joined them then
            To Life She gave Birth
            And solid Foundations built.

            Along came Water
            Some Channels to carve
            Through which all Energies flow.

            Around them All
            The Air did blow
            Winds of Thought and Deed
            intertwined.

            Power raised, Power spread
            Thus It Was
            So Mote It Be.       .....Alernon

            ........from RMPJ Oct. '86

            This article is excerpted from the Rocky Mountain Pagan Journal.
            Each issue of the Rocky Mountain Pagan Journal is published by
            High Plains Arts and Sciences; P.O. Box 620604, Littleton Co., 
            80123, a Colorado Non-Profit Corporation, under a Public Domain
            Copyright, which entitles any person or group of persons to 
            reproduce, in any form whatsoever, any material contained therein
            without restriction, so long as articles are not condensed or 
            abbreviated in any fashion, and credit is given the original
            author.!



                                                                                           1898
          

                                 BATTLE HYMN OF THE ERISTOCRACY 
                                          (Tune: Battle Hymn of the Republic)
             
            1.  Mine brain has meditated on the spinning of The Chao;
                It is hovering o'er the table where the Chiefs of Staff are now
                Gathered in discussion of the dropping of The Bomb;
                Her Apple Corps is strong!
             
            Chorus:
                 Grand (and gory) Old Discordia!
                Grand (and gory) Old Discordia!
                Grand (and gory) Old Discordia!
                Her Apple Corps is strong!
             
            2.  She was not invited to the party held on Olympic;
                So she threw a Golden Apple, 'stead of turned the other cheek!
                Oh, it cracked the Holy Punchbowl and it made the nectar leak;
                Her Apple Corps is strong!
             
            3.  For the Apple Hera offered Paris all the wealth she could;
                Athena promised that his enemies bodies would be strewed;
                But Aphrodite offered Helen - and EVERYONE got screwed!
                Her Apple Corps is strong!
             
             
                                              THE PRETTIEST ONE 
                               (Tune: To God Be The Glory)
            by Talespinner
             
            1.  To Goddess be glory, we all will have fun!
                And warm is our love of "the prettiest one",
                But warmer and glowing and deadly will be
                The planet Earth after they start World War III.
             
            Chorus:
             
                Hail Eris!  Hail Eris!  Let the Goddess be praised!
                Hail Eris!  Hail Eris!  Let your glasses be raised!
                Reality comes from the mouth of a gun,
                But all can be changed by "the prettiest one."
             
            2.  To Goddess be glory, we've hardly begun
                To alter our minds for "the prettiest one."
                To the Ultimate Mindfuck our allegiance we pledge;
                We'll push all the greyfaces over the edge!

                                             The Lady's Brothel 
            (to the tune "Nonesuch" also used for the "Lady"s Braisle")

            For She will bring the bugs in the Spring
            And laugh when She's deflowered.
            When She's in heat, She'll give you a treat,
            But you'll get disemboweled.
            She rots the grain and spreads ptomaine,
            When fruits of fall displease Her.
            The moons and suns all turn their buns
            In joint attempts to freeze Her.
                                                - by Steven Posch-Coward (1980)



                                                                                           1899
          

                                      The Cauldron Chant 
                                            by Ammond ShadowCraft

                    We form the Circle,
                    The Circle most round.
                    We form the Chalice,
                    The Chalice now found.
             
                    We call the Goddess,
                    to meet the great need.
                    We call the God,
                    To plant His fertile seed.

                    We call the quarters,
                    which we call four.
                    We summon the powers,
                    that contain the force.
             
                    We stir the Cauldron,
                    from which we were born.
                    We call the Gods,
                    from whom we were torn.
             
                    We say the words,
                    which lead us round.
                    We pass the kiss,
                    with our lovers found.
             
                    We face our dreams,
                    in nights psychic flight.
                    We face our hopes,
                    in bright moon of the night.

                    We face our fears,
                    on the Dark Lords Horn.
                    We face our failure,
                    in the Mothers new planted corn.
             
                    We live our lives,
                    druming and dancing on the meadow.
                    We confront our Death,
                    in the dancing moon light shadow.

                    Our paths run quickly,
                    on fleet foot and wing.
                    Our Circle is joyous,
                    with our Queens and our Kings.

                    Let our little Circle be happy,
                    with Bell, Bowl or Bow.
                    And form now this Circle,
                    with gracious Love, Joy and Hope.

                             BLESSED BE



                                                                                           1900
          

                              CELTIC CIRCLE DANCE 
                       copyright 1984 W. J. Bethancourt III 
                         recorded: CELTIC CIRCLE DANCE 
                                   WTP-0002 
                       tune: Same Old Man/Leatherwing Bat 
             
                Hi said the Norn, sittin in the sand 
                once I talked to a great Grey Man 
                spun three times and said with a sigh 
                "Hadn't been for the Runes had his other eye!" 
             
             Chorus: hi diddle i diddle i day 
                    hi diddle i diddle i diddle ay 
                    hi di diddle i diddle i day 
                    fol the dink a dum diddle do di day 
             
                Hi said the Lady, dressed in green 
                prettiest thing I've ever seen 
                she went down underneath the hill 
                and came back out of her own free will 
             
                Brian Boru, on Irish ground 
                walked three times the Island round 
                Norsemen came lookin for a fight 
                just another Irish Saturday night! 
             
                Hi said Lugh on the banquest night 
                a poet and a player and a good wheelwright 
                a harper and a warrior and none the least: 
                a Druid and he got in to the Feast! 
             
                Harold Haardrada's face was red! 
                Came to Britain and he wound up dead 
                Stamford Bridge is where he's found 
                got six feet of English ground 
             
                The Legion with it's Eagles bright 
                marched into the Pictish night 
                met them there upon the sand 
                gave em up to the Wicker Man! 
             
                Eight-legged steed and hound of Hel 
                the one-eyed Man, he loves ya well 
                fire burn and fire spark 
                are you then feared of the dark? 
             
                The Circle forms, the Circle flows 
                the Circle goes where no man knows 
                Hail to the Lady, one in three: 
                Present is Past and Past is Me! 
             
                Rhiannon's Birds are still in flight 
                all thru the Day all thru the Night 
                Hail to the Lady, one in Three 
                Present is Past and Past is Thee! 
             
