LOT

by: Aleister Crowley (1875-1947)

URN back from safety, in my love abide,

Whose lips are warm as when, a virgin bride

I clung to thee ashamed and very glad,

Whose breasts are lordlier for the pain they had,

Whose arms cleave closer than thy spouse's own!

Thy spouse--O lover, kiss me, and atone!

All my veins burst for love, my ripe breasts beat

And lay their bleeding blossoms at thy feet!

Spurn me no more! O bid these strangers go;

Turn to my lips till their cup overflow;

Hurt me with kisses, kill me with desire,

Consume me and destroy me with the fire

Of blasting passion straining at the heart,

Touched to the core by sweetness, that smart

Bitten by fiery snakes, whose poisonous breath

Swoons in the midnight, and dissolves to death!

 

* * * * * *

 

Turn to me, touch me, mix thy very breath

With mine to mingle floods of fiery dew

With flames of purple, like the sea shot through

With golden glances of a fiercer star.

Turn to me, bend above me; you may char

These olive shoulders with an old-time kiss,

And fix thy mouth upon me for such bliss

Of sudden rage rekindled. Turn again,

And make delight the minister of pain,

And pain the father of a new delight,

And light a lamp of torture for the night

Too grievous to be borne without a cry

To rend the very bowels of the sky

And make the archangel gasp--a sudden pang,

Most like a traveller stricken by the fang

Of the black adder whose squat head springs up,

A flash of death, beneath a cactus cup.

Ah turn, my bosom for thy love is cold;

My arms are empty, and my lips can hold

No converse with thee far away like this.

O for that communing pregnant with a kiss

That is reborn when lips are set together

To link our souls in one desirous tether,

And weld our very bodies into one.

 

* * * * * *

 

The first cool kiss, within the water cold

That draws its music from some bubbling well,

Looks long, looks deadly, looks desirable,

The touch that fires, the next kiss, and the whole

Body embracing, symbol of the soul,

And all the perfect passion of an hour.

Turn to me, pluck that amaranthine flower,

And leave the doubtful blossoms of the sky!

You dare not kiss me! dare not draw you nigh

Lest I should lure you to remain! nor speak

Lest you should catch the blood within your cheek

Mantling. You dared enough--so long ago!--

When to my blossom body clean as snow

You pressed your bosom till desire was pain,

And--then--that midnight! you did dare remain

Though all my limbs were bloody with your mouth

That tore their flesh to satiate its drouth,

That was not thereby satisfied! And now

A pallid coward, with sly, skulking brow,

You must leave Sodom for your spouse's sake.

Coward and coward and coward; who would take

The best flower of my life and leave me so,

Still loving you--Ah! weak--and turn to go

For fear of such a God! O blind! O fool!

To heed these strangers and to be the tool

Of their smooth lies and monstrous miracles.

O break this bondage and cast off their spells!

Five righteous! Thou a righteous man! A jest!

A righteous man--you always loved me best,

And even when lured by lips of wanton girls

Would turn away and sigh and touch my curls,

And slip half-conscious to the old embrace.

And now you will not let me see your face

Or hear your voice or touch you. Ah! the hour!

He moves. Come back, come back, my life's one flower!

Come back. One kiss before you leave me. So!

Stop--turn--one little kiss before you go;

It is my right--you must. Oh no! Oh no!

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