PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Aiwass, from Thy love of lost Pagan things,

Reincarnation of Crowley as the Beast 666.

My most beloved, Prince of Dark Times,

Let me invoke Him now, so we can be one!

Charms and Spells,

Misfortune tells.

Make something disappear,

No regret, no tear...

Magical inverted triangle,

Inscription do bear.

One letter dropped,

Forming a triangle.

Abracadabra it is!

Warding off the plague,

Corruption of a phrase.

Quintus Serenus Sammonicus;

Inventing the erase.

"Abhadda kedhabhra",

Disappear at once!

"Abreq ad habra",

Hurl your thunderbolt

Even unto death.

Abraxas: The Gnostic God;

Evil Eye! O, Charm of mine!

Corruption of a Demon,

Of long-forgotten history.

Hobgoblin word,

Puritan Minister Increase Mather.

Crowley believed else,

Possessing great power 

In Abrahadabra itself!

Under influence of a Demon,

French Sorcerer, black dog,

Being known as The Smasher,

Not of this world...

Placed in a Fransciscan monastery,

By his mother in her commandery.

He became enraged, abusing him,

By beating him, he plotted revenge.

He said a black spaniel appeared to him,

Promising to help him, going to his aid

Surrendering himself as in a raid.

Arrested on charges of Sorcery,

Spell-casting, hatred and grief.

The Demon never rescued him,

For against such forces of the law he couldn't win.

He was found guilty and hanged,

But his spirit was encouraged.

Now he hates even more,

Horror, destruction and gore.

[He was executed on July 20, 1582].

I drew my magick in Arts,

In front of the altar starts

The Magick Circle around,

The Demon was abound.

He bowed over me,

"What doth thee?"

Magick on the Astral Plane,

This way invocations are safe...

Charms and Spells,

Misfortune tells.

Make something disappear,

No regret, no tear...

Magical inverted triangle,

Inscription do bear.

One letter dropped,

Forming a triangle.

Abracadabra it is!

Warding off the plague,

Corruption of a phrase.

Quintus Serenus Sammonicus;

Inventing the erase.

"Abhadda kedhabhra",

Disappear at once!

"Abreq ad habra",

Hurl your thunderbolt

Even unto death.

Abraxas; The Gnostic God;

Evil Eye! O, Charm of mine!

Corruption of a Demon,

Of long-forgotten history.

Hobgoblin word,

Puritan Minister Increase Mather.

Crowley believed else,

Possessing great power

In Abrahadabra itself!

deep slow inhale
as scent of your sex burns upon the surface of my mind..
muscles tense and release as fingers grip thighs..
deep exhale
as passions twisted release winds its way across your pearl..
slow thrust of fleshy force into ur pleasure..
focus of self upon instant moment of release
deep within..
meditation as known guides path to unknown..
past doubts and mind
to the essence of the space between us
as we touch deep.

Alhazred was born in Yemen,
Traveling in the known world;
Amassing lore and legend,
And the tales of the fiends.

A writer and a poet,
He was educated much.
Geometry, algebra, Alchemy
And magickal incantations' need.

From the cup of occult knowledge
He drank deep...
Driving a normal person
To madness or beyond.

Alhazred was once a normal man,
With desires like we all can.
He was Arab by birth,
With a pale skin in rebirth.
Being labeled the mad,
As he was once a dad.
But had to eat his child,
By the King of the Palace's might.

He wrote down the Necronomicon,
In more than one song...
The obscure, the forgotten,
The suppressed, the rotten.
Never meant to be read;
It causes insanity with speed.
Not interpreted rationally,
The thoughts cause a rally.

Alhazred was insane,
By the lore he learned within.
But he wrote clear,
With many a tear.

The state of the Universe,
In reality suspense;
Plaything of mad gods at best,
Sewer of evil in the north, south, east, west.

Humans dare not dream of this,
For their peaceful lives they cannot miss.
A warning and guide this book is,
And by the Djinns you do wish.

Alhazred died, not a mystery,
It is written in history.
In the marketplace,
He was erased.
By the Demon from beyond,
Who wanted him gone.
Blood upon the sand,
There he was banned.
In broad daylight,
With many a sight.

He meddled with evil things,
With beings with wings.
He is now dead,
After he bled...

What if all was beyond that,

Would there still be innocence?

I cannot live with such a thought,

It will surely break me apart.

Is nature itself innocent?

It's full of ravage and wrath.

But it is not evil nor good,

Being one with the Soul, not apart.

Magick is what once was lost,

To be discovered thereupon.

Magick is the key to knowledge,

To the Unknown and the Soul.