Crowley Bearing a Gift

-- Dedicated to Thelema --

Stars are persuaded to proceed in the inmost hubs

Of galaxies; speaking in a language known only by the

Will of curved space and perpetual movement. A simple

Mantra chanted by a will that wants to know its

Own will by chasing its tail on a merry-go-round of clouds of

Suns happy in their constant movement, thirsty to know

And happy to sing.

And our old friend Crowley sees all this in his bardo sitting

On the roof of existence

He writes a hymn to Abraxas on

Parchment molecule thin, wrapping with

It Saturn

As a

Gift

He is drunk with the adoration of molecules and wanting

To give to us on planet Zero a visionary mind even now,

And more than ever.

He sees all this in his bardo sitting on the roof of existence -

Imparting the sight of Saturn as a friend now,

And more than ever.

Because Angels Are In White…

The poem is on Doctors who were heroes to us in the time of Covid-19

The Book is Being Written

How we observe and how we reflect.

The Dreary Faceless

The observations and reflections of a traveller in a foreign land.

The Model House

The facades of a perfect home.

The Woman Who

This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.