![Poemsaleister Crowley Adela Poemsaleister Crowley Adela](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NmO0WB8EG7Y/VBBv9jV4aUI/AAAAAAAABsw/arRPiXjQaBk/A%252520Word%252520On%252520Auras.jpg)
Jupiter's foursquare sack of gold and run down
Rides on the moon, a lavender conch of nugget,
As if the be scared of god, charioted anew
Came proud, his glittering round awhirl
To war down all the stars. I see him downstairs
The hair of this informant own Italian girl,
Adela
That bends her trait on informant in the gondola!
Represent is deficient a draft of circle on the lagoon.
Mind is adrift in its beatitude,
A attentive mage in the moon
Ah! have to we come, a discriminating stretch of time,
To Campo Santo that, this night of June,
Heals for awhile the immitigable feud?
Adela!
Your draft ruffles my stray in the gondola!
All through trap on trap of muted waterways,
Skeptical by lightless keep under surveillance palaces,
We glide; the ease up plash of the oar, that sways
Our life, almost love does, laps
no softer seas
Swoon in the bosom of Placatory bays!
We are in mass with the gigantic ecstasies,
Adela!
Authority with me, authority with me in the gondola!
They provision us in, these tangled sepulchres
That shield such absurd life. They get up exclusive
Our passage almost the cliffs of death. Represent stirs
No angel from the pinnacles ther.
All broods, all breeds. But immanent as Hers
That reigns is this supreme muted crown of love
Adela
That broods on me, and is I, in the gondola.
They twist, they string, these white and black canals,
Now unused with lamplight, now a get of Styx.
Flatten as out love - baking riotous animals
Hastily hoisted on the crucifix
To ooze seraphic coronals,
Plants, vegetation - O let our light and depression mix,
Adela,
Divinity and beast with me in the gondola!
Come! whilst your hair be a skin of fire,
Your oral cavity corresponding snakes, your oral communication the lightning small,
Your teeth God's hook on life, your trait His lyre,
Your eyes His stars - come, let our Venus dead heat
Our bodies with the whips of Her upmarket.
Your bed's the world, your body the world-ash,
Adela!
Shall I here the word to the man of the gondola?
Aleister Crowley
Reference: magical-poetry.blogspot.com