Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Ad Lucium

Some people have a reputation that masks all their talents. That's what I think of Aleister Crowley at least. Better known as the, "wickedest man alive," he was an astounding writer. Crowley's poetry has a confidence I've never seen before. Easy to fall in love with. Here is an exerpt of "Ad Lucium," found on Black Cat Poems


I will kiss thee and fondle and woo thee
And mingle my lips into thine
That shall tingle and thrill through and through thee
As the draught of the flame of a wine;
I will drink of the fount of our pleasure
Licking round and about and above
Till its streams pour me out their full measure,
O Lucius, love!

Thou shalt clasp me and clamber above me
And press me with eager desire,
Thou shalt kiss me and clip me and love me
With a love beyond infinite fire,
Thou shalt pierce to the portals of passion
And satiate thy longing and lust
In the fearless Athenian fashion,
A rose amid dust.

We will taste all delights and caresses
And know all the secrets of joy,
From the love-look that chastity blesses
To the lusts that deceive and destroy;
We will live in the light of sweet glances,
By day and by night we will move
To the music of manifold dances,
O Lucius, love!

"Ad Lucium," is an erotic poem that doesn't blatantly expose it's theme. Also, there is nothing pornographic about this poem. Erotic literature does not have to be pornographic to be effective. It doesn't even have to mention body parts or bodily functions of sex (orgasm, moan, etc).

1 comment:

  1. I have to say, it is fairly blatant in the language of that time. I'm not sure why you content that there is "nothing pornographic," unless you're working with a definition I'm not familiar with, or unless you aren't a good reader. It does actually mention body parts and bodily functions of sex, just not in modern language and perhaps not as blunt as you're thinking. Crowley's "DEDICACE" and the second part of his "Rondels" below certainly demonstrate both.


    Boy of red lips, pale face, and golden hair,
    Of dreamy eyes of love, and finger-tips
    Rosy with youth, too fervid and too fair,

    Boy of red lips.

    How the fond ruby rapier glides and slips
    'Twixt the white hills thou spreadest for me there;
    How my red mouth immortal honey sips [57]
    From thy ripe kisses, and sucks nectar rare
    When each the shrine of God Priapus clips
    In hot mouth passionate more than man may bear,
    Boy of red lips!