Rap to Pan

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Thrill with lovely lust of the light,

O man! My man!

Come charging out of the night Of Pan!

Io Pan! Io Pan!

Io Pan! Come over the sea

From Shambala and paradise!

Roaming like Bacchus, with his guards

Companion females and males all hard

On a milk-white ass, come over the sea

To me, to me! Come with priestess in bridal dress

(Shepherdess and pythoness)

Come with Artemis, who in wildwood trod,

And wash your white thigh, beautiful god,

In the moon of the woods, on the lotus press,

The golden tongue my jewel to bless!

Dip the purple of passionate prayer

In the crimson shrine, lusty & bare,

Your soul that startles with eyes of blue

As we watch your ecstasy seeping through

The tangled thicket, the ancient grove

Of the living tree that is spirit and soul

And body and brain — come over the sea,

Io Pan! Io Pan!

Devil or god, to me, to me,

My man! my man!

Come with trumpets sounding shrill

Over the hill!

Come with drums low thundering

From the spring!

Come with flute and come with pipe!

Am I not ripe?

I, who wait and tremble and wrestle

With breathe that has no way to settle

My body, weary of empty embrace,

Strong as a lion and smooth as a snake —

Come, O come!

I am numb

With the lonely lust of devildom.

Thrust the sword through iron fetters,

All-devourer, all-begetter;

Give me the sign of the Open Eye,

And the token aroused of horny thigh,

And the word of madness and mystery,

O Pan! Io Pan!

Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan Pan! Pan,

I am one love

Do as you will, as a great god can,

O Pan! Io Pan!

Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! I am awake

In the grip of the snake.

The eagle slashes with beak and claw;

The gods withdraw:

The great beasts come.

Io Pan! I am borne

To come on the horn

Of the Unicorn.

I am Pan! Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan!

I am your mate, I am your one,

Goat of your flock, I am gold, I am god,

Flesh to your bone, flower to your rod.

With hoofs of steel, I race on the rocks

Through solstice sunrise to equinox.

And I rave, and I howl and I rip and I rend

Everlasting, world without end,

Maenad, Mystoi, Woman, Man,

In the might of Pan.

Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan! Io Pan!

 

(found after AC)

The Witch of King’s Cross – Rosaleen Norton

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A story that needs to be told, this ground breaking documentary does the trick. Although at 1 hour 15minutes maybe a little overlong for the format and could be a bit faster. Even so it was great to see and hear her biographer, the late Nevill Drury contributing to the story he did so much to research over several editions of his book Pan’s Daughter : the magical world of Rosaleen Norton. I found the first half the most interesting, when she was younger and a rising star, before the grey men in the Australian patriarchy, and the catholic church brought her down and mostly extinguished her fire, sometimes literally in the fire, when the police were ordered by the courts to burn two of her paintings. Outrageous stuff that courts order burning of pictures, a real witchhunt.

The dirty tricks, the illegal raids on her home by the press are all there. And though she fought back and embraced and reclaimed her witch archetype, it was something of a pyric victory as she ended her days mostly as a recluse and died alone in a hospice run by nuns. Many of her former friends in the film seemed too untogether to be there for her at the end. 

She became something of a parody of herself, sometimes grotesque in the media game. I was so glad to see the pictures of her in her sister’s garden, her hair down and unbleached, no fringe and no crazy eyebrows – just the beautiful person she once was. 

So overall, despite a great body of work, she was well ahead of her time. But a wasted genius, and not through any fault of her own, other than being a woman and a witch.  Her astral magick, with which she connected with Gavin Greenlees and Eugene Goossens enabling them to connect across space and time, is experiencing something of a revival just now and the greater details in Nevill’s book will be useful for that. The patrician musician Goossens was an important occult influence though in the end, the career of this magical superstar was destroyed by a media conceived scandal. He died soon after but never blamed Roie for the any of it; despite her keeping a photographic record of their work, which was stolen from its hiding place in her flat by a hostile journalist and they then sealed her, and his fate. So let us remember her, and induct her into the company of gnostic and tantrik saints. A true original, whose magick and witchcraft did not come from the usual suspects of the time, but was a power of love, direct and from above. 

Honorable mention to the choreographer, actors and sound people for great soundtrack, though was odd that subtitles when pan danced musick subtitled as esoteric when Lilith danced is was dramatic, great track called “Dark Arts” by Brian De Mercia.  Everyone should see this film and support the makers by paying the modest fee to own it. 

Mandrake Newsletter has more information on the biography of Rosaleen Norton Pan’s Daughter and some words from its author Nevill Drury

 

 

 

 

 

The Alchemical Wedding

Standing under moonlit sky and shining stars
A Tallit of white and silver
A canopy of lights
You put Ganesha on my finger
And whisper in my ear -
Time to kneel by the altar
My dear
Kissing the feet of the
Ancient priest
Marking his knees with my lips
I take Apep in my mouth
His eye glistened and moist
For a moment or two
We are lost in the void
You help me back
To my feet
Your eyes
Your eyes
Your eyes
Like two shining scarabs
Staring into my soul
Sharing a secret
I recall
The moon priest
Holds me tight in his arms
While I kiss his chest
and bless his heart
Under the Tallit of silvery lights
Our lips met
A kiss and a breath