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Song title: The Raveness - The beast and I

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To think that every day I traipsed the paths where:-
Often I’d walk the streets of 30, Clarendon square,
Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte was also once there!
A descendant of a pompous ignoramus and dreamer.
It was 1838 and Aleister came thirty seven year’s late!
Where just around the corner sipping gin at no. 6,
Would have been the nephew of that imp whose arse needed an encouraging kick!

The diabolical philosophical seduction and fright of Thelema;
Our endeared great beastie tapping at libertinism’s door numbered 666.
A human pendulum, swinging between men and women for his romantic fix;
Who up his ceremonial sleeve hid many a peculiar trick.

Abrahadabra!
It’s our Crowley of Warwickshire,
All round fun fellow and tarot’s dead Waite mocking jester.
“Old bean I applaud you and your hermetic order”
Through the golden dawn, I learned he illuminated quite a character.

“The wickedest man in the world!”
Shrilled the moth-eaten mobs of tedious conventional miserable sods!
The libellous envy of Aiwass and the echo upon a man now a god.

I fell swiftly in love as the royal pump rooms dribbled upon me in awe,
Now a library that ever flows the foreboding of the bewitching magician occultist;
Which I’ve fled to read by the memorial of Jephson deep into the gardens,
An otherworldly escapist lost in a provocateur’s labyrinth.
The novelist stole my heart with five words “Absinthe: The green goddess- Awe!”,
You see, when I was the misbehaving ankle-biter, Emerald blood was a weakness.
His inspiration now has me devouring it like a naughty child lost to Krampus!

A demonic mountaineer who’s climbed the most treacherous of peeks,
Not quite as recreational as the substances he was known to tweak;
How exhilarating is this chase between the beast and I,
Even the poetic great Briton of all time’s mystique must surrender to ‘do what thou wilt’;
To this day still, I Sift through curiosities of true will under the ever watchful Horus eye:-
Through the snow white town only history could have built.