January 22, 2017



Under Garments…

January 22, 2017


Villages were cut off

January 22, 2017


It lay in ditches and in hollows in the fields, where only birds walked. In some lanes the wind had swept it up faultlessly to the very tops of the hedges. Villages were cut off until gangs of men could clear a passage on the roads; the labourers could not go out to work, and on the aerodromes near these villages all flying remained cancelled. People who lay ill in bed could see the shine off the ceilings of their rooms, and a puppy confronted with it for the first time howled and crept under the water-butt. The outhouses were roughly powdered down the windward side, the fences were half submerged like breakwaters; the whole landscape was so white and still it might have been a formal painting. People were unwilling to get up. To look at the snow too long had a hypnotic effect, drawing away all power of concentration, and the cold seemed to cramp the bones, making work harder and unpleasant. Nevertheless, the candles had to be lit, and the ice in the jugs smashed, and the milk unfrozen; the men had to be given their breakfasts and got off to work into the yards. Life had to be carried on, in no matter what circumscribed way; even though one went no further than the window-seat, there was plenty to be done indoors, saved for such time as this.

Philip Larkin
A girl in winter



Leah Sublime,
Goddess above me!
Snake of the slime
Alostrael, love me!
Our master, the devil
Prospers the revel.

Tread with your foot
My heart til it hurt!
Tread on it, put
The smear of your dirt
On my love, on my shame
Scribble your name!

Straddle your Beast
My Masterful Bitch
With the thighs of you greased
With the Sweat of your Itch!
Spit on me, scarlet
Mouth of my harlot!

Now from your wide
Raw cunt, the abyss,
Spend spouting the tide
Of your sizzling piss
In my mouth; oh my Whore
Let it pour, let it pour!

You stale like a mare
And fart as you stale;
Through straggled wet hair
You spout like a whale.
Splash the manure
And piss from the sewer.

Down to me quick
With your tooth on my lip
And your hand on my prick
With feverish grip
My life as it drinks –
How your breath stinks!

Your hand, oh unclean
Your hand that has wasted
Your love, in obscene
Black masses, that tasted
Your soul, it’s your hand!
Feel my prick stand!

Your life times from lewd
Little girl, to mature
Worn whore that has chewed
Your own pile of manure.
Your hand was the key to –
And now your frig me, too!

Rub all the much
Of your cunt on me, Leah
Cunt, let me suck
All your glued gonorrhoea!
Cunt without end!
Amen! til you spend!

Cunt! you have harboured
All dirt and disease
In your slimy unbarbered
Loose hole, with its cheese
And its monthlies, and pox
You chewer of cocks!

Cunt, you have sucked
Up pricks, you squirted
Out foetuses, fucked
Til bastards you blurted
Out into space –
Spend on my face!

Rub all your gleet away!
Envenom the arrow.
May your pox eat away
Me to the marrow.
Cunt you have got me;
I love you to rot me!

Spend again, lash me!
Leah, one spasm
Scream to splash me.
Slime of the chasm
Choke me with spilth
Of your sow-belly’s filth.

Stab your demonical
Smile to my brain!
Soak me in cognac
Cunt and cocaine;
Sprawl on me! Sit
On my mouth, Leah, shit!

Shit on me, slut!
Creamy the curds
That drip from your gut!
Greasy the turds!
Dribble your dung
On the tip of my tongue!

Churn on me, Leah!
Twist on your thighs!
Smear diarrhoea
Into my eyes!
Splutter out shit
From the bottomless pit.

Turn to me, chew it
With me, Leah, whore!
Vomit it, spew it
And lick it once more.
We can make lust
Drunk on disgust.

Splay out your gut,
Your ass hole, my lover!
You buggering slut,
I know where to shove her!
There she goes, plumb
Up the foul Bitch’s bum!

Sackful of skin
And bone, as I speak
I’ll bugger your grin
Into a shriek.
Bugger you, slut
Bugger your gut!

Wriggle, you hog!
Wrench at the pin!
Wrench at it, drag
It half out, suck it in!
Scream, you hog dirt, you!
I want it to hurt you!

Beast-Lioness, squirt
From your Cocksucker’s hole!
Belch out the dirt
From your Syphilis soul.
Splutter foul words
Through your supper of turds!

May the Devil our lord, your
Soul scribble over
With sayings of ordure!
Call me your lover!
Slave of the gut
Of the arse of a slut!

Call me your sewer
Of spilth and snot
Your fart-sniffer, chewer
Of the shit in your slot.
Call me that as you rave
In the rape of your slave.

Fuck! Shit! Let me come
Alostrael – Fuck!
I’ve spent in your bum.
Shit! Give me the muck
From my whore’s arse, slick
Dirt of my prick!

Eat it, you sow!
I’m your dog, fuck, shit!
Swallow it now!
Rest for a bit!
Satan, you gave
A crown to a slave.

I am your fate, on
Your belly, above you.
I swear it by Satan
Leah, I love you.
I’m going insane
Do it again!

Aleister Crowley

From Crowley’s diary:

Cefalú, Italy
5.25pm to 5.15am

Against all principals, and in breach of two promises, I have sat up all night in the

snows, writing a poem to Leah.

One long poem – an occasional publishable line thrown in when I weakened.

7.00 am: I think I’ll collect all my filth in one poem and mark H Leah in plain figures.

10.00 am: 1 think 1 did.


At the time of this poem’s composition, Crowley was living in the Villa Santa Banhera Fust outside Cefalu in Sicily with two mistresses, a small group of “disciples” and enough drugs and hallucinogenic substances to sink a battleship.

Comprising 156 lines and 666 words, the numbers of the Whore and the Beast, it was often recited to those aspiring to join Crowley’s group. If the excesses it describes were too much for the newcomer – then they would be turned away (unless they had plenty of cash!).

Needless to say publication of the poem was banned in the UK.

Ultimately, Crowley was deported from Sicily (following the unfortunate death of Raoul Loveday) in 1923.

The Leah of the poem’s title was Leah Hirsig, Crowley’s mistress who helped him set up his “Abbey of Thelema” in Cefalu. She was Crowley’s Babalon, his Scarlett Woman, who took the name Alostrael – the womb or grail of God! In 1921 she confided to her diary:

“I dedicate myself wholly to The Great Work. I will work for wickedness, I will kill my heart, I will be shameless before all men, I will freely prostitute my body to all creatures”.

A common room in the tiny villa became dedicated to ritual practices and held a scarlet “magick” circle marked with the sign of the major Thelemic deities. Crowley’s own bedroom, which he called “la chambre des cauchemars” (or “the room of nightmares”) was entirely hand-painted by the occultist with explicitly erotic frescos, hermaphroditic goblins, and vividly coloured monsters. This private room was used for specific night initiations involving psychoactive drugs which gave terrifying cinematic life to these Bosch-like visions of hellish debauchery.

Crowley would feed himself and his “disciples” doses of opium, hashish and peyote which enabled them to “see” beyond our “mundane reality”. Crowley’s Magick was often little more than drug induced hallucination, of course.

While living in the villa Leah became pregnant by Crowley, as did his second mistress, Ninette Shumway. Leah miscarried but Ninette gave birth to a daughter on the 11th December 1920, at two in the morning in Palermo. They named her Astarte Lulu Panthea, but unfortunately she died in 1928.

It is hard for us to imagine today, but there were children living in the Villa Santa Banhera Fust at this time! During January 1920, Crowley, then living in Fontainebleau with Leah, was joined in a ménage à trois by Ninette, and also by Leah’s newborn daughter, Anne “Poupee” Leah. When they relocated to the villa in Sicily, Leah’s son, Hans Hammond accompanied them, as did Ninette’s three year old son, Howard.

While living in the villa Crowley continued to write, to paint, to perform rituals. He also offered a libertine education to the children, allowing them to play all day and witness acts of sex magic at night. He occasionally interrupted this routine to travel to Palermo. There he’d purchase more drugs and visit assorted rent-boys. By this time Crowley was addicted to Heroin and his cocaine usage was eroding his nasal passages.

In a diary entry for 12th August 1920, Crowley wrote the following:

“Her breasts itch with lust of Incest. She hath given Her two-year bastard boy to Her lewd lover’s whim of sodomy, hath taught him speech and act, things infinitely abhorred, with Her own beastly carcass. She hath tongued Her five-month girl, and asked its father to deflower it.”

This terrible entry seems to suggest Leah and Crowley, both under the influence of cocaine, and peyote, molested Leah’s son, Hansi and that Crowley deflowered his five month old daughter?

Is the entry true or false?

We don’t know. However we do know Poupee died two months later, October 14th 1920. We also know the death was so traumatic to Leah that she suffered her miscarriage six days later.

Shoulder the sky my lad

January 22, 2017


Diary 20th January

Cold clear morning. The sunlit landscape looks almost surreal stretched out to infinity beneath this vast sky. Brown Willie is a purple haze on the horizon. Small puddles of water at the edge of the drive have frozen overnight.

Inauguration day today for Donald Trump.

But I must go shopping. Lots to do.


Supermarkets are unusually busy today. Geriatric drivers everywhere, their heads full of deathwatch beetles. Memo to self: clean the gull shit off the passenger side door handle of the car!


Apparently police officers in Bristol have tasered their own race relations adviser. They mistook him for a suspect, or so it’s been suggested(?). When approached by officers he declined to give his name, so they fired a taser into his face!

Trigger happy or what?