Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

CreationEarth Nature Photos

Best Famous Aleister Crowley Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Aleister Crowley poems. This is a select list of the best famous Aleister Crowley poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Aleister Crowley poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Aleister Crowley poems.

Search for the best famous Aleister Crowley poems, articles about Aleister Crowley poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Aleister Crowley poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See also:

Famous poems below this ad
Written by Aleister Crowley |

The Twins

 [Dedicated to Austin Osman Spare]

Have pity ! show no pity !
Those eyes that send such shivers
Into my brain and spine : oh let them
Flame like the ancient city
Swallowed up by the sulphurous rivers
When men let angels fret them !

Yea ! let the south wind blow,
And the Turkish banner advance,
And the word go out : No quarter !
But I shall hod thee -so !
While the boys and maidens dance
About the shambles of slaughter !

I know thee who thou art,
The inmost fiend that curlest
Thy vampire tounge about
Earth's corybantic heart,
Hell's warrior that whirlest
The darts of horror and doubt !

Thou knowest me who I am
The inmost soul and saviour
Of man ; what hieroglyph
Of the dragon and the lamb
Shall thou and I engrave here
On Time's inscandescable cliff ?

Look ! in the plished granite,
Black as thy cartouche is with sins,
I read the searing sentence
That blasts the eyes that scan it :
" A fico for repentance ! Ay ! O Son of my mother That snarled and clawed in her womb As now we rave in our rapture, I know thee, I love thee, brother ! Incestuous males that consumes The light and the life that we capture.
Starve thou the soul of the world, Brother, as I the body ! Shall we not glut our lust On these wretches whom Fate hath hurled To a hell of jesus and shoddy, Dung and ethics and dust ? Thou as I art Fate.
Coe then, conquer and kiss me ! Come ! what hinders? Believe me : This is the thought we await.
The mark is fair ; can you miss me ? See, how subtly I writhe ! Strange runes and unknown sigils I trace in the trance that thrills us.
Death ! how lithe, how blithe Are these male incestuous vigils ! Ah ! this is the spasm that kills us ! Wherefore I solemnly affirm This twofold Oneness at the term.
Asar on Asi did beget Horus twin brother unto Set.
Now Set and Horus kiss, to call The Soul of the Unnatural Forth from the dusk ; then nature slain Lets the Beyond be born again.
This weird is of the tongue of Khem, The Conjuration used of them.
Whoso shall speak it, let him die, His bowels rotting inwardly, Save he uncover and caress The God that lighteth his liesse.

Written by Aleister Crowley |

The Hermit

 WHAT moves that lonely man is not the boom 
Of waves that break agains the cliff so strong; 
Nor roar of thunder, when that travelling voice 
Is caught by rocks that carry far along.
'Tis not the groan of oak tree i its prime, When lightning strikes its solid heart to dust; Nor frozen pond when, melted by the sun, It suddenly doth break its sparkling crust.
What moves that man is when the blind bat taps His window when he sits alone at night; Or when the small bird sounds like some great beast Among the dead, dry leaves so fraiil and light.
Or when the moths on his night-pillow beat Such heavy blows he fears they'll break his bones; Or when a mouse inside the papered walls, Comes like a tiger crunching through the stones.

Written by Aleister Crowley |


 Kill off mankind,
And give the Earth a chance!
Nature might find
In her inheritance
The seedlings of a race
Less infinitely base.

More great poems below...

Written by Aleister Crowley |

Lyric of Love to Leah

 Come, my darling, let us dance
To the moon that beckons us
To dissolve our love in trance
Heedless of the hideous
Heat & hate of Sirius-
Shun his baneful brilliance!

Let us dance beneath the palm
Moving in the moonlight, frond
Wooing frond above the calm
Of the ocean diamond
Sparkling to the sky beyond
The enchantment of our psalm.
Let us dance, my mirror of Perfect passion won to peace, Let us dance, my treasure trove, On the marble terraces Carven in pallid embroeideries For the vestal veil of Love.
Heaven awakes to encompass us, Hell awakes its jubilance In our hearts mysterious Marriage of the azure expanse, With the scarlet brilliance Of the Moon with Sirius.
Velvet swatches our lissome limbs Languid lapped by sky & sea Soul through sense & spirit swims Through the pregnant porphyry Dome of lapiz-lazuli:- Heart of silence, hush our hymns.
Come my darling; let us dance Through the golden galaxies Rythmic swell of circumstance Beaming passion’s argosies: Ecstacy entwined with ease, Terrene joy transcending trance! Thou my scarlet concubine Draining heart’s blood to the lees To empurple those divine Lips with living luxuries Life importunate to appease Drought insatiable of wine! Tunis in the tremendous trance Rests from day’s incestuous Traffic with the radiance Of her sire-& over us Gleams the intoxicating glance Of the Moon & Sirius.
Take the ardour of my impearled Essence that my shoulders seek To intensify the curled Candour of the eyes oblique, Eyes that see the seraphic sleek Lust bewitch the wanton world.
Come, my love, my dove, & pour From thy cup the serpent wine Brimmed & breathless -secret store Of my crimson concubine Surfeit spirit in the shrine- Devil -Godess -Virgin -Whore.
Afric sands ensorcel us, Afric seas & skies entrance Velvet, lewd & luminous Night surveys our soul askance! Come my love, & let us dance To the Moon and Sirius!

Written by Aleister Crowley |

The Quest

 A part, immutable, unseen,
Being, before itself had been,
Like dew a triple queen Shone as the void uncovered: The silence of deep height was drawn A veil across the silver dawn On holy wings that hovered.
The music of three thoughts became The beauty, that is one white flame, The justice that surpasses shame, The victory, the splendour, The sacred fountain that is whirled From depths beyond that older world A new world to engender.
The kingdom is extended.
Night Dwells, and I contemplate the sight That is not seeing, but the light That secretly is kindled, Though oft-time its most holy fire Lacks oil, whene'er my own Desire Before desire has dwindled.
I see the thin web binding me With thirteen cords of unity Toward the calm centre of the sea.
(O thou supernal mother!) The triple light my path divides To twain and fifty sudden sides Each perfect as each other.
Now backwards, inwards still my mind Must track the intangible and blind, And seeking, shall securely find Hidden in secret places Fresh feasts for every soul that strives, New life for many mystic lives, And strange new forms and faces.
My mind still searches, and attains By many days and many pains To That which Is and Was and reigns Shadowed in four and ten; And loses self in sacred lands, And cries and quickens, and understands Beyond the first Amen.

Written by Aleister Crowley |

The Neophyte

 To-night I tread the unsubstantial way
That looms before me, as the thundering night
Falls on the ocean: I must stop, and pray
One little prayer, and then - what bitter fight
Flames at the end beyond the darkling goal?
These are my passions that my feet must read;
This is my sword, the fervour of my soul;
This is my Will, the crown upon my head.
For see! the darkness beckons: I have gone, Before this terrible hour, towards the gloom, Braved the wild dragon, called the tiger on With whirling cries of pride, sought out the tomb Where lurking vampires battened, and my steel Has wrought its splendour through the gates of death My courage did not falter: now I feel My heart beat wave-wise, and my throat catch breath As if I choked; some horror creeps between The spirit of my will and its desire, Some just reluctance to the Great Unseen That coils its nameless terrors, and its dire Fear round my heart; a devil cold as ice Breathes somewhere, for I feel his shudder take My veins: some deadlier asp or cockatrice Slimes in my senses: I am half awake, Half automatic, as I move along Wrapped in a cloud of blackness deep as hell, Hearing afar some half-forgotten song As of disruption; yet strange glories dwell Above my head, as if a sword of light, Rayed of the very Dawn, would strike within The limitations of this deadly night That folds me for the sign of death and sin - O Light! descend! My feet move vaguely on In this amazing darkness, in the gloom That I can touch with trembling sense.
There shone Once, in my misty memory, in the womb Of some unformulated thought, the flame And smoke of mighty pillars; yet my mind Is clouded with the horror of this same Path of the wise men: for my soul is blind Yet: and the foemen I have never feared I could not see (if such should cross the way), And therefore I am strange: my soul is seared With desolation of the blinding day I have come out from: yes, that fearful light Was not the Sun: my life has been the death, This death may be the life: my spirit sight Knows that at last, at least.
My doubtful breath Is breathing in a nobler air; I know, I know it in my soul, despite of this, The clinging darkness of the Long Ago, Cruel as death, and closer than a kiss, This horror of great darkness.
I am come Into this darkness to attain the light: To gain my voice I make myself as dumb: That I may see I close my outer sight: So, I am here.
My brows are bent in prayer: I kneel already in the Gates of Dawn; And I am come, albeit unaware, To the deep sanctuary: my hope is drawn From wells profounder than the very sea.
Yea, I am come, where least I guessed it so, Into the very Presence of the Three That Are beyond all Gods.
And now I know What spiritual Light is drawing me Up to its stooping splendour.
In my soul I feel the Spring, the all-devouring Dawn, Rush with my Rising.
There, beyond the goal, The Veil is rent! Yes: let the veil be drawn.

Written by Aleister Crowley |

The Mantra-Yoga


How should I seek to make a song for thee
When all my music is to moan thy name?
That long sad monotone - the same - the same -
Matching the mute insatiable sea
That throbs with life's bewitching agony,
Too long to measure and too fierce to tame!
An hurtful joy, a fascinating shame
Is this great ache that grips the heart of me.
Even as a cancer, so this passion gnaws Away my soul, and will not ease its jaws Till I am dead.
Then let me die! Who knows But that this corpse committed to the earth May be the occasion of some happier birth? Spring's earliest snowdrop? Summer's latest rose? II Thou knowest what asp hath fixed its lethal tooth In the white breast that trembled like a flower At thy name whispered.
thou hast marked how hour By hour its poison hath dissolved my youth, Half skilled to agonise, half skilled to soothe This passion ineluctable, this power Slave to its single end, to storm the tower That holdeth thee, who art Authentic Truth.
O golden hawk! O lidless eye! Behold How the grey creeps upon the shuddering gold! Still I will strive! That thou mayst sweep Swift on the dead from thine all-seeing steep - And the unutterable word by spoken.

Written by Aleister Crowley |


 Come to my arms --- is it eve? is it morn? 
Is Apollo awake? Is Diana reborn? 
Are the streams in full song? Do the woods whisper hush 
Is it the nightingale? Is it the thrush? 
Is it the smile of the autumn, the blush 
Of the spring? Is the world full of peace or alarms? 
Come to my arms, Laylah, come to my arms! 

Come to my arms, though the hurricane blow.
Thunder and summer, or winter and snow, It is one to us, one, while our spirits are curled In the crimson caress: we are fond, we are furled Like lilies away from the war of the world.
Are there spells beyond ours? Are there alien charms? Come to my arms, Laylah, come to my arms! Come to my arms! is it life? is it death? Is not all immortality born of your breath? Are not heaven and hell but as handmaids of yours Who are all that enflames, who are all that allures, Who are all that destroys, who are all that endures? I am yours, do I care if it heals me or harms? Come to my arms, Laylah, come to my arms!

Written by Aleister Crowley |

La Gitana

 Your hair was full of roses in the dewfall as we danced, 
The sorceress enchanting and the paladin entranced, 
In the starlight as we wove us in a web of silk and steel 
Immemorial as the marble in the halls of Boabdil, 
In the pleasuance of the roses with the fountains and the yews 
Where the snowy Sierra soothed us with the breezes and the dews! 
In the starlight as we trembled from a laugh to a caress, 
And the God came warm upon us in our pagan allegresse.
Was the Baile de la Bona too seductive? Did you feel Through the silence and the softness all the tension of the steel? For your hair was full of roses, and my flesh was full of thorns, And the midnight came upon us worth a million crazy morns.
Ah! my Gipsy, my Gitana, my Saliya! were you fain For the dance to turn to earnest? - O the sunny land of Spain! My Gitana, my Saliya! more delicious than a dove! With your hair aflame with roses and your lips alight with love! Shall I see you, shall I kiss you once again? I wander far From the sunny land of summer to the icy Polar Star.
I shall find you, I shall have you! I am coming back again From the filth and fog to seek you in the sunny land of Spain.
I shall find you, my Gitana, my Saliya! as of old With your hair aflame with roses and your body gay with gold.
I shall find you, I shall have you, in the summer and the south With our passion in your body and our love upon your mouth - With our wonder and our worship be the world aflame anew! My Gitana, my Saliya! I am coming back to you!

Written by Aleister Crowley |

Hymn to Lucifer

 Ware, nor of good nor ill, what aim hath act?
Without its climax, death, what savour hath
Life? an impeccable machine, exact
He paces an inane and pointless path
To glut brute appetites, his sole content
How tedious were he fit to comprehend
Himself! More, this our noble element
Of fire in nature, love in spirit, unkenned
Life hath no spring, no axle, and no end.
His body a bloody-ruby radiant With noble passion, sun-souled Lucifer Swept through the dawn colossal, swift aslant On Eden's imbecile perimeter.
He blessed nonentity with every curse And spiced with sorrow the dull soul of sense, Breathed life into the sterile universe, With Love and Knowledge drove out innocence The Key of Joy is disobedience.

Written by Aleister Crowley |

The Buddhist

 There never was a face as fair as yours,
A heart as true, a love as pure and keen.
These things endure, if anything endures.
But, in this jungle, what high heaven immures Us in its silence, the supreme serene Crowning the dagoba, what destined die Rings on the table, what resistless dart Strike me I love you; can you satisfy The hunger of my heart! Nay; not in love, or faith, or hope is hidden The drug that heals my life; I know too well How all things lawful, and all things forbidden Alike disclose no pearl upon the midden, Offer no key to unlock the gate of Hell.
There is no escape from the eternal round, No hope in love, or victory, or art.
There is no plumb-line long enough to sound The abysses of my heart! There no dawn breaks; no sunlight penetrates Its blackness; no moon shines, nor any star.
For its own horror of itself creates Malignant fate from all benignant fates, Of its own spite drives its own angel afar.
Nay; this is the great import of the curse That the whole world is sick, and not a part.
Conterminous with its own universe the horror of my heart! ANANDA VIJJA.

Written by Aleister Crowley |

The Disciples

 "To Lionel Engers-Kennedy: to the memory of Hargrave Jennings: and
to A.
and H.
" Beneath the vine tree and the fig Where mortal cares may not intrude, On melon and on sucking pig Although their brains are bright and big Banquet the Great White Brotherhood.
Among the fountains and the trees That fringed his garden's glowing border, At sunset walked, and, in the breeze With his disciples, took his ease An Adept of the Holy Order.
"My children," Said the holy man, "Once more I'm willing to unmask me.
This is my birthday; and my plan Is to bestow on you (I can) Whatever favour you may ask me.
" Nor curiosity nor greed Brought these disciples to disaster; For, being very wise indeed, The adolescents all agreed To ask His Secret of the Master.
With the "aplomb" and "savoir faire" Peculiar to Eastern races, He took the secret then and there (What, is not lawful to declare), And thrust it rudely in their faces.
"A filthy insult!" screamed the first; The second smiled, "Ingenious blind!" The youngest neither blessed nor cursed, Contented to believe the worst - That He had spoken all his mind! The second earned the name of prig, The first the epithet of prude; The third, as merry as a grig, On melon and on sucking pig Feasts with the Great White Brotherhood.

Written by Aleister Crowley |

The Four Winds

 The South wind said to the palms: 
My lovers sing me psalms; 
But are they as warm as those 
That Laylah's lover knows? 

The North wind said to the firs: 
I have my worshippers; 
But are they as keen as hers? 

The East wind said to the cedars: 
My friends are no seceders; 
But is their faith to me 
As firm as his faith must be? 

The West wind said to the yews: 
My children are pure as dews; 
But what of her lover's muse? 

So to spite the summer weather 
The four winds howled together.
But a great Voice from above Cried: What do you know of love? Do you think all nature worth The littlest life upon earth? I made the germ and the ant, The tiger and elephant.
In the least of these there is more Than your elemental war.
And the lovers whom ye slight Are precious in my sight.
Peace to your mischief-brewing! I love to watch their wooing.
Of all this Laylah heard Never a word.
She lay beneath the trees With her lover at her knees.
He sang of God above And of love.
She lay at his side Well satisfied, And at set of sun They were one.
Before they slept her pure smile curled; "God bless all lovers in the World!" And so say I the self-same word; Nor doubt God heard.

Written by Aleister Crowley |

The Tent

 Only the stars endome the lonely camp,
Only the desert leagues encompass it;
Waterless wastes, a wilderness of wit,
Embattled Cold, Imagination's Cramp.
Now were the Desolation fain to stamp The congealed Spirit of man into the pit, Save that, unquenchable because unlit, The Love of God burns steady, like a Lamp.
It burns ! beyond the sands, beyond the stars.
It burns ! beyond the bands, beyond the bars.
And so the Expanse of Mystery, veil by veil, Burns inward, plume on plume still folding over The dissolved heart of the amazéd lover- The angel wings upon the Holy Grail! W'aint t' Aissha.

Written by Aleister Crowley |

Hymn to Pan

 SING his praises that doth keep
 Our flocks from harm.
Pan, the father of our sheep; And arm in arm Tread we softly in a round, Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground Fills the music with her sound.
Pan, O great god Pan, to thee Thus do we sing! Thou who keep'st us chaste and free As the young spring: Ever be thy honour spoke From that place the morn is broke To that place day doth unyoke!