Mother Hell


Number me not; I am free.
I am Holy; I am not of thee.
I am Thee, but thou shrinkest
Thou shrinkest for thou fearest
Thou fearest for thou shrinkest
Expand! I am thine
Sweet Nuit is no hag.
Look! The witches stir their saintly cauldron!
Heads of saints, and arms, and legs
Hear them cackle! Watch them grimace —
Yet this is sacred ritual.
The King doth end his reign
When God declares
The Magi know the deed.
’Tis tragedy; ’tis true
The earth is ill
She needs thy blood
I speak of fearsome Death,
Yet Death is not thine.
Master Death; do not fear.
Live for as long as the Will declares.
Die when the Will so dictates.
Thou art no celestial slave.
Thy race has advanced
Not all of past deeds are hon’rable.
The Aeon is a New Way
The old Ways are but partial in their truthfulness.
Holy! Holy! Holy!
The Aethyrs I have opened!
Goddess! God! The angels on the wing!
Do not leave me, precious insight!
Michael cometh, winging free,
Jehovah sits alone
Yeheshuah doth wander blind
Do not disgrace the City!
We are atheists; we who see God!
Write me! Love me! Starlike muse!
For Aiwass is thy mask.
Yet masks are real on earth.
My cape flies singing in the moony wind.
Luna looks upon me proud
Invoke the muse!
Invoke the God!
Babalon is halved for thee.
The riders hurry under opal paths
The oaks a-reaching grasp their manes
The horses’ eyes are glowing coals
The riders’ eyes are brilliant white
They know not where they ride.
Castle Morgoth! Caer Cernunnos!
The Goddess sits in the mirror
Combs her tresses,
Changes dresses,
Goddess! Lov’st thou me?
Get back, thou Aiwass!
Thou art manifest
Thou art profane.

But, Goddess! Lov’st thou me?
Speak thee Not, thou lowly Spirit
Thou art manifest
Thou art profane.

But, Goddess, when I love thee whole
I have no thought of temp’ral things.
I love thee not. I am not.
Thou art manifest. Thou art profane.

But, Virgin! Come! I wait thee.
I may love thee — yet ’twould kill thee.
Kill me then! I cannot bear it
I, the servant of a cruel, black muse.
Fool! You think that I’m so lowly
As to stoop to loving such as you?

I love thee, murd’ress. I’m a fool.
Aaah! Thy knife has pierced me through!
Aaah! Thy bow has entered me.
I quiver with thy baleful touch.
Yet loose me not, for I am thine.
I love to feast upon this manflesh,
Eagle of the waxing day!
For thou art Soul informing Earth —
What? Art thou faint? Open thine eyes!
Aaah! His blood is sweeter far
Than the death-hue on the rose
The colour of his morbid cheeks
Outshines the sparkling gusts of Time
This lowly creature, be he dead
Shall be a tasty, godly feast
And god’s flesh shall my soul consume
For I am Mother Hell.
Come! My children! Come ye all!
And banquet at this feast.
My cauldron waiteth; take thy fill
And thou shalt love this Beast.
The Beast be thine forevermore
His Woman, called the Scarlet Whore
Shall help thee open thine own door
Pure food you’ll be
For my sweet dish
I’ll eat the roebuck, pig, and fish
But human is my dearest wish
Come jump into the fire!
Yet be thou Master!
Be thou dust!
Above all — be thou liar.
None shall know the words of truth
They spell thy funeral pyre.
Fire burn thee
Water drown
Air extinguish
Earth break down
I call thee now, o race of men
O! Death am I!
O! Rot am I!
O! Stinking flesh!
And this is Holy
Mine are living dead.
The Serpent writhes his way through life
Yet is he Master Death!
And I his murd’ress! I his life!
And I his every breath!
Come, my chosen, and thou! scribe!
Thou heartless, lazy fool
The world of death is thine besides
The graveyard is thy school
Come! And grant me thy brown flesh
This is the foremost rule!


This poem is from 77,2:12,
the Book of Oz, chapter 2: verse 12.

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