Nudity as Protest (continued)

I've commented on this before - here and Here.

Now we have a group of brave Iranian women Here doing the same thing.

Also This, the Nude Photo Revolutionaries Calendar.

A page from it:

Click for bigger.

Magick, pure Magick.

Mocuar's just gone shopping . . .

. . . and I've padlocked her rings, like so:

She likes wandering around the supermarket thinking about how many other people she walks past might be similarly adorned. She also likes the fact that it's a physical reminder of the Nature Of Her Being.

Simple pleasures . . .

Moths

In the process of tidying up some old documents, I came across this. Something I wrote about 14 years ago, and had completely forgotten about. Odd how I sometimes read my old writings and find it hard to believe that I wrote them.
 It's a bit wordy, but I can't bring myself to dump it . . .

Moths

The light-hungry moths assault the window

Attracted, it’s said, by the moon-resemblance of electric glow

Is this true? Are they so stupid?

Or does our perception lag behind that which they know?

These questions unanswerable of course

Posed by fools, poets or scientists who divorce

Their seeing-eye from dreaming

Of a pinned-down truth, their only resource.

For my part, I speculate (as I stare into the night)

Perhaps it is light alone they desire - any light

Drawn by the call of an erotic grail

And the promise of a luminescent bite

If this is so, we have much to fear

Light blinds and burns if we stray too near

Its incandescent sanctuary

We are so easily destroyed by that which we revere.

I am an exhibitionist . . .

. . . And Mocuar is my exhibit (and a very lovely one too).

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Babalon Poem

From the excellent Temple Of Babalon site:


On the Threshold of the Gods
The night sky beckons with familiarity
Yet is speaks with a voice of old
In a tone that is but forgotten 

This is an age of darkness
Not the darkness of the Mother
But the darkness of despair
The time has come to reawaken 

Harken, O Spirits
For it is Me who calls
Come forth to my waiting
My arms are extended, to welcome you home 

It is I, whose voice has been forgotten
Who calls you forth
For I love you, I love you
Come, I am waiting 

And with my hands upon your face
I shall kiss your forehead
And you will remember
The glory that we shared 

For it is I, the one who loves you
The one whom you have longed for
Who comes into your dreams
And leaves you wakened--hungry 

I call to thee, my servants
To those who dare to come to me
I beckon to your fire
I lust for your desire 

To those who can remember
The days we shared together
Before it was torn asunder
By those who came to conquer 

I have been long in waiting
For those who longed to remember
But never dared to see
For fear of retribution 

For they have buried me in their shadows
The shadows of their cross and star
They stole from me my power
They stole from you my pride 

Murderous, they strike at me still
In the heart of every woman
And the soul of every man
The time is now at hand 

Join with me, my children
Feel me open your heart
It is time to be free again
It is time to be realized. 

Display

Mocuar likes displaying her cunt. 

She recently decided, as a magickal act, that she wanted to graphically display herself on the net. We're on a site featuring the local BDSM scene, and she liked the idea that anyone we met, who'd seen her pics, would have seen, as she put it 'the whole me'. She saw it as a way of liberating her from conventional hangups  about body image etc. As she put it, "I want to be free of all that crap"

This is the picture she chose:

Click for bigger.

Wise As A Serpent

'Wise As A Serpent' A mind-fuckingly stunning song from Gerry Rafferty. Such a shame that he's no longer with us. It's been running around my head for days. Look it up.   Beautiful.