Thoth Poems

 You'll notice that process philosophers and magicians alike create archetypal characters to hitch their own stars to. For Nieztche, it was Zarathustra. For Spare, it was Zos. These are my foray into god-binding. Here, I use Thoth, the god of writing and magick, which means something very specific in Egyptian lore that is utterly muddied by our sense of things. 

One of the main features of the Thoth character is self-begetting. Eventually, these poems will make a book on Thoth like Nieztche's Zarathustra. 

[God of Time]

The mortal god 

may bless (--you--) re lax a tive

while I contract you all

Ob ligat ions

Blood in bloodrive scapegrace

Leaving me horns to master your fate

The pen that traces fates

Inscribes death in fire 

On human hearts

[The Secret Sayings of Thoth]

Give me the gift of your goatsong

Give me your sleight of hand

I am addicted to accumulating strategies

I am addicted to the unvoiced screams

Of the damned

Drug your eyes that I may become

flint

Teach me your goatsong

So that I may become you

The weaver of dreams

Sews the eyelids of Verity shut

When truth is your master

You have no future

[The Gift of Thoth]

Could I drive sane men mad with an evil tool? Or fallow their souls so perfectly that they become words spit from the mouths of insects. 

Teach me your tragedy. Let me cry your tears and bewail your devils. Let me play games with words and make Time my memory. 

And when my body dies, my memory will thrive.

(O)(o)(O)(O)(o)(O)(O)(o)(O)

Yodabund + Zos + Devourer