1. Had! The manifestation of Nuit.
2. The unveiling of the company of heaven.
3. Every man and every woman is a star.
4. Every number is infinite; there is no difference.
5. Help me, o warrior lord of Thebes, in my unveiling before the Children of men!
6. Be thou Hadit, my secret centre, my heart & my tongue!
7. Behold! it is revealed by Aiwass the minister of Hoor-paar-kraat.
8. The Khabs is in the Khu, not the Khu in the Khabs.
9. Worship then the Khabs, and behold my light shed over you!
10. Let my servants be few & secret: they shall rule the many & the known.
11. These are fools that men adore; both their Gods & their men are fools.
12. Come forth, o children, under the stars, & take your fill of love!
13. I am above you and in you. My ecstasy is in yours. My joy is to see your joy.
Man has willed Man!
Your desires shall become flesh, your dreams reality and no fear shall alter it one whit.
Hence do I travel ye into the incarnating abortions-the aberratons, the horrors without sex, for ye are worthless to offer Heaven new sexualities.
Once in this world I enjoyed laughter-when I remembered the value I gave the contemptible; the significance of my selfish fears; the absurd vanity of my hopes; the sorry righteousness called I.
Certainly not befitting are tears of blood, nor laughter of gods.
Ye do not even look like MEN but the strange spawn of some forgotten ridicule.
Lost among the illusions begat of duality-are these the differentiations ye make for future entity to ride your bestial self? Millions of times have ye had re-birth and many more times will ye again suffer existence.
Ye are of things distressed, living down the truths ye made. Loosing only from my overflow, perchance I teach ye to learn of yourselves? In my becoming shall the hungry satisfy of my good and evil? I strive me neither, and confide subsequent to the event.
Know my purpose: To be a stranger unto myself, the enemy of truth.
Uncertain of what ye believe, belike ye half-desire? But believe ye this, serving your dialectics:-
Subscribing only to self-love, the outcroppings of my hatred now speak. Further, to ventilate my own health, I scoff at your puerile dignitaries' absurd moral clothes and bovine faith in a fortuitous and gluttonous future!
Dogs, devouring your own vomit! Cursed are ye all! Throwbacks, adulterers, sycophants, corpse devourers, pilferers and medicine swallowers! Think ye Heaven is an infirmary?
Ye know not pleasure. In your sleep lusts, feeble violence and sickly morale, ye are more contemptible than the beasts ye feed for food.
I detest your Mammon. Disease partakes of your wealth. Having acquired, ye know not how to spend.
Both of these pieces were allegedly channeled by occult forces by the respective magicians. Book of the Law was Crowley's biblical rant, whilst Anathema of Zos was Austin Osman Spare's Nietzchian spiel.
Whilst they are both spooky enough to have some validity to them, I myself relate more to Spare's piece.
As with most of Crowley's work, I feel that he is reacting more as a parallel reactionary to Christianity rather than really breaking through past that moral nonsense, not to mention the fact that I get the impression the only way to truly appreciate it on the level intended is to read everything he ever wrote, be a 33 degree mason, an Ipsissimus of the A∴A∴, an outer head of the OTO and a reincarnation of Crowley himself with access to everything he ever thought or felt. In other words, to me Crowley comes across as a highly intelligent, highly pretensions asshole with more personal baggage than all the members of the Third Reich combined; and it shows in his work. What it has in intellectual sexiness it lacks in force and artistic presentation. The book of the law seems to me to be impersonal and covertly dogmatic, for all it's talk of Doing what thou wilt.
On the other hand, Spare seems like an individual dear to my own heart. The Anathema of Zos is just as sexy as an artistic piece as it is powerful as a philosophical treatise. It lacks the cosmic pretensions of the Book of the Law and feels like an individual howling in contempt at the slave morality surrounding him. He is the Iggy Pop of the occult world. His piece demands no more commitment than the act of reading it, and while every time I read it I extract more and more novel realizations, it is a complete experience every time in and of itself. It can be taken on it's own terms and only grows richer as you subjectively develop. More than that, it seems to lack the same reactive moral character of Crowley's piece; and truly seems the work of someone who has done away totally with Christian morality and is forging a new and personal will to power.
So, fellow amateur pseudo-internet-oculist, which one gets your underwear creamed?