Eroticism & Magick

May 20, 2017

Magical power is sexual power. Crowley understood this. Parsons understood this. Bataille understood this. Or to be more accurate, Laylah knew this, Candy knew this, Laure knew this. Witchcraft sometimes seems to have forgotten it, along with the body, a trend that technology continues to exacerbate. For the return to the erotic we need a physical culture that our dancing bodies weave and chorus into life.

Witchcraft is inherently erotic, by which I mean it is a construct of shadow and light. Of historical elements and of our current experience, of truth and lie; as it always has been. Witchcraft is an art of glamours which demands that we explore and harness our full erotic potential and that of others. Witchcraft is neither a glossy magazine, nor a gender studies module, nor a particular aesthetic; though they may be paths towards it they are not to be mistaken for the thing in itself. Modern expressions of witchcraft that appear to value style over substance are better seen as part of a continuum of erotic expression, of the necessary poses demanded in a culture of surfaces. Witchcraft is a practice with attitude, not a practiced attitude. The erotic is witchcraft if it not only attracts power, or the gaze, but if it is able to harness that power for its own ends. We are not here to please, or to be measured in likes.

Though it is often, and somewhat smugly, pointed out that the brain is the most important sexual organ to stimulate, that misses the fact that the brain is a direct evolutionary result of our need to process movement. We are not a series of selfies but bodies in motion. We are not a brain in a control tower whose interaction with the world is only done with our thumbs. The body awaits our rediscovery of it, for ours is a naked art, garbed only in the shadows we artfully cast and the masks that demand to be danced.

Touch marks and transforms us. It is the most eroded of the senses and the most necessary to our psychological health. Touch is a condition of all sentient life, the loss of tactility is death, and as Aristotle observed, thought itself depends upon tactility.

Though we deal with the intangible, touch is something we should be developing in the creation of a series of exercises to extend the range of our senses. It is not surprising that the blindfold is one of the key technologies of both initiation and sexual play. Leading and being led, hunter and hunted are the ways in which we extend our sensitivity across the country of skin.

Alongside the blindfold, the mask must be mentioned in this context, for the way in which it frees the body. In masking we discover hitherto unknown movements and voices, selves that we pull on like long gloves and that articulate potentials which animals have not forgotten. Masks can wear us, as gods often do. The blindfold is of course the dark moon and initiation, the mask, the sabbat at the full.

The erotic is the art of the extension and the anticipation of desire. It triggers a cascade of chemical releases that renew the body. We glow with it. What all the methods of eroticism and ordeal have in common is the body, and the function of the endocrine system. We can exploit this rather than taking it as a given, by training with the exactitude and presence of dancers and martial artists. The edge play of fight or flight, of tonic immobility, of extended arousal are the penumbra through which we are transvected. Our aim is to extend our mastery over the so-called autonomic nervous system, and in doing so, live more deliciously.

The work of witchcraft is best approached if you have a working energy body. The endocrine system in particular needs attention: hypothalamus, pineal, pituitary, thyroid, thymus, adrenals, pancreas and ova/testes. Unless you have an active method to address it, your system is either aggravated or in decline. Unless you are moving every day you are becoming stiffer. The challenge is that most people in our culture, which includes witches, are heavily self-medicating, particularly with alcohol, painkillers, prescribed pharmaceuticals and in a state of chronic inflammation. If this is not rectified then eroticism is impaired, ordeal work becomes blunt trauma wrought on muffled senses.

In tandem with this are the requirements of herb craft to provide the building blocks and support for the experience so that it is not catastrophic. I am not going to give a full herbal, but let me mention damiana, red clover and ginseng as general tonics as well as two of my preferred and less known ones, amachazuru and tongkat ali. If you are not taking Vitamin D and magnesium supplements I urge you to do so. For men I should add zinc, and testosterone support for those over 40, along with lifting heavy weights: these are far more effective than shunning ejaculation in order to stay vital. For women, dong quai, cat’s claw, ashwaganda, catuaba, and of course the master substance: chocolate, theobroma cacoa, food of the gods. And I recommend you consume your chocolate like your witchcraft, as dark, raw and unadulterated as possible!

The quick hit and subsequent body load of sugar and cooked fats, the over reliance on alcohol as a disinhibitor rather than a solvent for medicines, processed denatured food and death by sofa are the hallmarks of a slave society and a slave body. In addition we trash our adrenals with caffeine and crash our immune systems with cigarettes. This toxic approach does have some short term benefits, but it ultimately burns us out. The excess of energy in youth can lead us to self-destructive displays. I am not promoting abstinence, but an extended drunkenness of the senses.

Would it not be better if we were to stretch into ourselves like felines? If witchcraft drank from the cauldron of medicine and health? If we recognised that what we do requires sustained and sustainable energy work? If when we engage in the work of poisons we pay as much attention to recovery? Ask yourself: How powerful is your erotic response? Then ask, how powerful can it become?

Find a physical practice that you love. Make the body your magical weapon of choice for the performance of witchcraft. Keep extending and retracting your power like cat claws. It is a lunar mystery that we work, and it gives us supernatural seeming powers. The erotic is not linear, this genders witchcraft female whatever our biological sex. It teaches us to sustain from the smudged kohl of evening to the rose blush of day. It makes our witchcraft a full body art from the field of flesh through to our secret interiors that the blindfold and mask reveal.

Peter Grey
Forging the body of the Witch
Presentation given at the Occult Conference in London, England, 18th June 2016

A Certain Lady

May 27, 2016

girls in love

Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head,
And drink your rushing words with eager lips,
And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red,
And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips.
When you rehearse your list of loves to me,
Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed.
And you laugh back, nor can you ever see
The thousand little deaths my heart has died.
And you believe, so well I know my part,
That I am gay as morning, light as snow,
And all the straining things within my heart
You’ll never know.

Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet,
And you bring tales of fresh adventurings –
Of ladies delicately indiscreet,
Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things.
And you are pleased with me, and strive anew
To sing me sagas of your late delights.
Thus do you want me — marvelling, gay, and true,
Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights.
And when, in search of novelty, you stray,
Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go…
And what goes on, my love, while you’re away,
You’ll never know.

Dorothy Parker

sunday love

Desire is desire, wherever you go. The sun will not bleach it, nor the tide wash it away…


The internet abounds in simplistic definitions of BDSM versus abuse. Usually these definitions have been written to justify BDSM – which ultimately is consensual whereas abuse is not.

For my part I’d stress (along with Elie Wiesel) that we should never “see” a person as an abstraction. Instead we should “see” them as a universe: each with their own secrets, their own treasures – and each with their own sources of anguish and desire. We should also be able to “see” when a particular individual’s desire for pain / punishment / humiliation is out of control.

If you recognise mental aberration in a BDSM Sub, is it then abuse to forefill that Sub’s most keenly expressed desires?

‘Hurt me more, piss on me, shit on me, fist me…Make me bleed.’

The worse part about anything self-destructive, is its intimacy. And a Sub, too closely enmeshed in strong violent desires, is like a drug addict desperate for a fresh fix; their fantasies become more like an illness…they are unable or unwilling to turn away from them because it feels as if they are killing a part of themselves in the process.

Is pandering to their desires / fantasies abusive or no?

Well, I think it becomes abuse the moment the Dom recognises these addictions for what they are. An illness. And in satisfying the Sub’s intense need for extremes of experience, a fine line is being crossed.

Likewise, those sadistic Doms who know their Sub / victim will not use their “safeword” despite the severity of the treatment being dished out – are they abusers? So much freak and nastiness abruptly released on some poor Sub / victim…

Is that abuse or no?

I think yes, that’s feckin’ abuse. The Dom is abusing their position, and their power over the Sub.

Personally, I’m involved with people who play bondage “games”. Mild kink is the order of the day. Rarely anything too heavy. That said, I know people who incorporate knives into their “play” – I think it too dangerous – and I know others who engage in “needle play”…which, again, is not for me.

BDSM then, is about “acceptability”. If you ain’t comfortable with it, don’t do it. It’s also about respect – for yourself and for your partner / partners. It is also very much about consent and communication – Communicate, communicate, communicate!

The games me and mine play are rigorously planned and choreographed down to the last little detail. And if there’s anything – anything at all – that a participant isn’t happy with, then it doesn’t happen. Risk management is all important. BDSM play should NEVER result in actual physical or emotional harm to any individual.

If it does, then that, boys and girls, is abuse!


Diary 9th April

Sweet Cheeses. Sleeting this morning – fine icy miserable sleet! It’s feckin’ April and cold as a witch’s tit in a brass bra! I was breathing feckin’ steam just now in the garden! Insane!


Writers on writing:

“Hold the reader’s attention. (This is likely to work better if you can hold your own.) But you don’t know who the reader is, so it’s like shooting fish with a slingshot in the dark. What fascinates A will bore the pants off B,” says Margaret Atwood.

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed,” says Ernest Hemingway: you can always trust Ernie to turn the act of artistic creation into a wound.

“Each writer is born with a repertory company in his head. Shakespeare has perhaps 20 players. … I have 10 or so, and that’s a lot. As you get older, you become more skillful at casting them,” says Gore Vidal.

“Concentrate on what you want to say to yourself and your friends. Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness. You say what you want to say when you don’t care who’s listening,” says Allen Ginsberg.



Desire to us
Was like a double death,
Swift dying
Of our mingled breath,
Of an unknown strange perfume
Between us quickly
In a naked

Langston Hughes

Langston Hughes was one of the most prominent black poets of the Harlem Renaissance. His accomplishments include publishing his first poem, “The Negro Speaks of Rivers,” to critical acclaim; winning several major literary awards for his poems, plays, short stories and novels; founding theatres; teaching at universities; and being a major contributor to the Harlem Renaissance and helping to shape American literature.

Hughes published his first book of poetry in 1926 and was recognized for his use of black themes and jazz rhythms in his work. No mean feat for a black man in that place and that time. One of his’ recurring themes was the limitations of the American Dream for black Americans, see, for example, his poem “Harlem”.


It will be the past
and we’ll live there together.

Not as it was to live
but as it is remembered.

It will be the past,
we’ll all go back together.

Everyone we ever loved,
and lost, and must remember.

It will be the past.
And it will last forever.

Patrick Phillips.

crocodile Valentine

only one big thing

December 7, 2015


The world is little, people are little, human life is little. There is only one big thing — desire.

Willa Cather
The Song of the Lark

Fancy Dress…

May 8, 2015


The shrill sound of a flute, closely followed by the parp-parp of a solitary trombone. Imagine, if you will, a red velvet curtain slowly rising. To reveal –

Mata Hari in black fishnet stockings, famous Frisian exotic dancer, courtesan and spy.

But no. No, wait…

This is Marlene Dietrich. In the character of Lola-Lola from the “Blue Angel”, temptress and sultry cabaret performer. Singing now, “Falling in love again”. And like an earlier Dietrich in the film “Morocco”, she kisses another woman full on the mouth at song’s end.

People applaud. Dee in thick red lipstick curtseys. She is certainly as otherworldly as Dietrich. She blows a kiss in my direction. And I become Lola-Lola’s clown…

For this one night our home doubles as the Blue Angel Club, a place of sex, seduction, voyeurism, drinking and Lola-Lola. All fall before her untamed femininity. See her in flame-red silken underwear, frills, stockings and top hat. It’s July 2012. But for this one frozen moment in time, it is undoubtedly Berlin during the Weimar Republic.

Lola-Lola, like Dee, embodies masculine and feminine traits. She is a sexual aggressor, her sex a weapon to be used when and how she sees fit. We know this just by the way she flips back her dress to expose her splendid thighs. It would be so easy, too easy, to play Russian roulette with her cunt…

All our local friends are at this party tonight. They are used to our bizarre behaviour. Our games. A fancy dress party by definition must be quirky at the very least. So no surprise when Gabriella opens the front door to welcome guests with a huge ear trumpet held up to her ear, dressed in a skimpy slave girl outfit and a deerstalker hat, a beautiful, semi-nude, gloriously voluptuous Sherlock Holmes.

The Rev Charles Bryce-Bridge is in attendance with his wife, Melanie. She looks splendid as Marie Antoinette, hair stacked high on her head, long face thickly powdered. Rev Chas is a lanky slut in mini-skirt, all bonny knees and big nose. The bright red pantyhose he’s wearing is alarming…so much so all my cats fled the house at first sight of him!

And in the background Ms Devina Tuggwell, the church organist. She never strays far from the Rev Chas. Her shade of blue eye shadow matches his. His wife doesn’t seem to notice. At first I’m uncertain whether Devina’s here as an escaped mental patient, or a twenties fashionista in that shapeless, backless, spangly dress.

Duncan Delco has come as a deserter from ‘Dad’s Army’, sporting his military best with a row of gleaming medals. Georgina Plimp-Davis, a little the worse for wear after five of Gabriella’s Tom Collins cocktails, laughs shrilly…I suspect Gabby has designs on dear Georgina; wishes to see her fall out of that ‘Little Bo Peep’ outfit, and into the gleaming all-together…naked as nature intended. Given half-a-chance Gabby will introduce her to a range of Sapphic delights later.

The party swings along. Room full of minxy flappers and dapper gents, elegant ladies in decadent gowns, and boys who’d be girls…all that’s missing, I feel, are the circus fire eaters, the clowns, the bold aerialists and lion tamers…But then you aren’t sure who might turn up next?

Ah, sure, those were the days. Sitting at my keyboard this morning, reminiscing. I say to Dee we should have another “Fancy Dress Party” soon. She seems enthusiastic…

‘We could plan it for when we come back from Italy. Invite the village. To hell with the expense.’

‘I doubt Georgina Plimp-Davis will come,’ I say, smiling. ‘Not after all the shenanigans last time.’

‘She was the talk of the village, wasn’t she.’ Broadly smiling. Dee is casually wicked. ‘Such behaviour from one of society’s few rustic pillars…’

‘Gabriella should have known better. She was like a dirty old man round that woman…’

‘Not just her, my love.’

‘Oh? Who, then?’

Dee laughs. ‘You were sleeping. I went in and joined them.’

‘What Gabby and Georgina?’

‘Oh, yes. The woman was drunk, but not too drunk. She knew what she was doing, trust me. And she did us both…’

So my blissful innocence dully shattered by this unexpected revelation, I sit and consider party themes. Who should I go as? A white suited clown? Pagliacci? Oh, yes…

“Ridi, Pagliaccio,
sul tuo amore infranto!
Ridi del duol, che t’avvelena il cor!”

Yes, yes, the laughing clown. “Vesti la giubba”. I can’t wait –


Firstly, I’d recommend a good book. Reading broadens the mind, allows you to see the world in totally new ways. Takes your mind off your aloneness.

Not much of a reader? Your expectations so much greater than the experiences provided by fine literature?

Oh, well. In that case I’d suggest magic.

Yes, magic, but solo sex magic. Because lonely boys shouldn’t be lonely for long. They should have a playmate to share their days – and their nights!

So, question: Is there a certain someone to whom you feel attracted? Someone you’d like to bed, but who seems unattainable to you?

There is?


Now you may find this hard to believe at first, but you can make this person, this significant other, feel attracted to you to the point of obsession! But how to do this….

In bed you will imagine your chosen one. This ritual works during any moon phase, but is best between midnight and three AM. Your concentration on her needs to be as intense as you can possibly make it. Imagine her naked, her body on top of yours, her hands caressing you. Imagine her lips on your face. Listen to her voice telling you how much she loves you, while her hands gently stroke your genitals. Hear her breathing. Image yourself penetrating her…In your mind’s eye see and feel it all. You will probably be erect by now, but don’t touch yourself. Not yet.

Keep her naked body firmly in your mind for ten minutes or so. Carefully examine every square inch of her with your mind’s eye. Your fingers on her skin, her sex. Now begin to masturbate. But very slowly, gently. Bring yourself to the point of ejaculation, but then stop. Relax.

Still focusing on your chosen one, rest a moment, before commencing to masturbate yourself again. Repeat the process. For whatever length of time you’re able, masturbate yourself to the point of climaxing without ejaculating. Resting for a minute or two each time, then recommence your gentle ministrations. Keep your movements slow and easy, almost tentative. When you feel you can go on no longer, allow yourself to ejaculate. Focus on her like never before, your chosen one, as you cum. Imagine her orgasming too. Let your desire for her ejaculate into the universe…

You should repeat this masturbatory process regularly*. You will find over time your experiences and orgasms will become considerably more intense. Eventually you will “have” your chosen one with you in the flesh…

A personal note. I have used this process several times. It has always proven successful for me. My first attempt at this form of sex magic, I wanted to attract a nurse working in a big London hospital. After just three weeks, she approached me and began flirting with me…I could hardly believe my luck. It was, boys and girls, feckin’ amazing.

In isolation, one could easily take this occurrence as pure coincidence, of course. However, that said, up until the moment when this young woman finally approached me, she was particularly aloof and “untouchable”. So much so, the male patients on the ward she worked had nicknamed her “The Ice Maiden”.

We ended up in bed together the following night, and our affair went on for some considerable time after that.

The longest it has taken this particular ritual to work for me has been eighteen months. The object of my desire on that particular occasion was a woman in a senior position at a large law firm. Our paths crossed by chance at a “launch party” for a new branch opening organised by a local ad-agency.

This woman specialised in international law. She was attractive, intelligent, and full to the brim with get-up-and-go. Unfortunately she had to hurry off to attend a video conferencing session with a company in Tokyo.

By the time she left, however, I was in love with her.

What to do? The following day I telephoned the law firm, asked for her, but she was too busy to come to the phone. I repeated this experience six or seven times. No joy. I was onto a loser, for sure.

Nevertheless, I practiced solo sex magic with her as my objective. To begin with I practiced the ritual nightly, edging myself as many as ten or twelve times. Sweaty two hour sessions of pure lust where I visualized her naked in my bed. After a month or so of this, I began to ease off the frequency I performed the ritual. It wasn’t working. I wanted so much for her to call me. We’d exchanged cards at the party, but I imagined her discarding mine without a second thought. I’d lost her…

But I really did love her, as absurd as that might sound. So at irregular intervals over the next year I performed the ritual, on one memorable occasion “edging” myself twenty-three times over a three hour period!

Three days after that session, my telephone rang. I was expecting a call from my agent. But it wasn’t him. It was my woman from the law firm, the sole object of my desire. Eighteen months after our first meeting she was calling me!!

She explained she’d wanted to contact me, but had mislaid my card. She tried to obtain my telephone number via BT but I was unlisted. She tried via the ad-agency that I had written copy for, but they only had my old address and phone number.

She told me she kept experiencing vivid flashbacks of the party that day, and of me talking to her. Each time this happened (she called them mini-visions), she’d make a fresh attempt to locate me, but without success.

The beginning of that particular week, she commenced a relocation into a larger office at the law firm. Clearing out she found…Yes, you guessed it…My card. She found my card and phoned immediately. How amazing is that?

We made a date for that evening. We became lovers…We lived together for some time after that.

Coincidence? Chance? Possibly. But in performing this ritual successfully so many times, I’m forced to acknowledge there’s much more than just luck or chance involved here. The power of mind. The human mind is infinite. We are made of the same stuff as stars…

Believe and you will achieve.


Decide what you want. Believe you can have it. Believe you deserve it and believe it’s possible for you. And then close your eyes every day for several minutes, and visualize having what you already want, feeling the feelings of already having it. Come out of that and focus on what you’re grateful for already, and really enjoy it. Then go into your day and release it to the Universe and trust that the Universe will figure out how to manifest it.

Jack Canfield