7 posts tagged “sex magick”

Dear Friends,

We have had several requests to publically post the text of the speeches made by Alkistis Dimech and Peter Grey on BABALON at the International Thelemic Symposium.

Some of the material builds upon The Red Goddess though we have more BABALON related work to publish in due course through Scarlet Imprint.

It was particularly heartening to find members of other traditions, in particular Witchcraft, being enthused by the idea of working with BABALON.

We are also delighted to say that we will be publishing essays by Jake Stratton-Kent who spoke on Goetia and the Grimorium Verum, and Charlotte Rodgers who spoke on Blood Magic, in the very near future.

Also great to have David Beth speaking on Voudon Gnosis to close the day.

We were pleased to meet more of our readers, and participate in an event with such vibrancy, vitality and promise of a new occult revival.

Here are the texts in full:

BABALON - Peter Grey

It is dark in the Ephesus cell.
Helena ties the band across her forehead.
Greek letters in the single light of a lamp.
Mystirio.
Before she had lashed in black and draped in chains across Asia.
Stood as the moon on the roof of the brothel in Tyre.
Now dressed in cardinal red and proud purple of this bishopric she is the voices of the thunder perfect mind.
The world soul Sophia, a pythoness curled around the bread of the last supper.
I am ready for them Simon.
The voice of split tongue wisdom flickering lightning like.
The pleroma strobe lit with hissing.
This is the Goddess come to earth.

Listen.

Bernice the Jewish Empress stirs in her villa on the seven heads of hills,
mouth heavy with the communion wine she shares with the conquerors.
A she-wolf giving suck to the divine twins of Jerusalem and Rome.
There is no henbane or haoma in the blood of this dead god.
But power, influence, greed.

In the Temple of Aphrodite the whores dress for war with carmine lips.
A dusk sashay to lure the converts of Jesus the hunchback Christ.
The split fig cunt song of do-what-thou-wilt-with-me.
Do you have that single coin for my lap?

Yet it is John who evokes Her.
John of Patmos.
John stranded on his miserable rock, still unable to escape the low throb in his balls.
John whose words are the bitter sponge they offered to the lips of the Saviour.
John steeped in the hatred of the Patriarchs who saw their god fail them, again and again.
The Temple smashed, the Ark lost, the lions fed.
Prochoros bends his head as John dictates and writes down the words which will poison the world.

‘And the woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour and decked with gold and precious stones and pearls having a golden cup in her hand full of abominations and filthiness of her fornication:
And upon her forehead was written MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT. THE MOTHER OF HARLOTS AND ABOMINATIONS OF THE EARTH.
And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus: And when I saw her, I wondered, with great admiration’

John’s text is accepted as the final word.
The temples of Aphrodite are stripped as clean as Hypatia’s bones,
clam shell scraped by the jabbering monastics.
The whore not holy.

Simon Magus falls from the window on the orders of Paul, has his broken legged body sawn in half. The beloved assistant is not there to unite the severed parts with their guts of lolling silk scarves.
Helena is gone from the oracular Ephesus cell, fled to the walnut tree of Benevento and obscurity. Left and lost to witchcraft.

No-one pursues Babalon like the Magdalene.
Chasing the wrong chalice of mystical Christianity,
not supping from the true wound of menstrual blood.
We lost our Love Goddess to the substitutes in a switched card trick.

Instead we have the Blessed Virgin Mary a cliterodectomy sewn up with the black beard hair ofYahweh.
Never fucked but full of suffering, eyes averted lest the Savior raises a hard-on while he dies on the cross.

Bound into every Bible, John’s words.
Delivered into every hospital, John’s words.
Guilt slipped in the hotel room drawer, John’s words.
An enemy for every prisoner, John’s words.
Repression for the schoolroom, John’s words.
Hatred for Babylon, John’s words.

This is our history of THOU SHALT NOT.
These are the words that will echo out again as the world edges degree by degree into one final Apocalypse.
Are you ready for the Revelation?
The striptease of your vain grades and titles, the loss of order, sense, Will.
The burning black blood of Ereshkigal is making the world a battlefield, a bridal bed.
Our scorched Eden sees BABALON risen on the incense of petroleum and roses and filled with furious Love.

John, we turn your words against you.
Our curse comes out as the last Love song.

The four snaking swastika rivers knotted and dammed in Babylon.
What was Sumeria is looted by American troops.
The Empire never ended.
Caesar’s men now rule a wasteland of depleted uranium and ship home Arkansas boys with shrapnel for legs.
A chalice of abominations , this fertile crescent now waxed pubis bare.
The women go black -veiled not for Tammuz, but Mohammed.

It is here where the first roses bloomed.
It is here that we evoke Her again.

Our fingers scrabble in the broken bricks for the sacred texts until the evening star rises.
Inanna our lady of the great wild bridled lion.
Inanna of honeysuckle sweetness.
Inanna Goddess of Love and War.
Inanna, the Kingmaker come upon us.

Easter is the chamber at the top of the seven-step ziggurat.
Babel wreathed in lightning.
Where language is lost in the thighs of the Priestess become Goddess.
Where divine woman and divine man celebrate their Equinox.

In the bedchamber Venus rings steel sword blue, the morning star of dawn, the gate of the Sun.
But Babylon is fallen, an abode of serpents and unclean things.

The Jews bring Her back with them from captivity and have Her beaten by Jeremiah on the anvil of nationalism.

The wisdom of Solomon will not be repeated,
There will be no whoring after Goddess on the temple mount.
With every hammer strike the name changes,
Inanna, Ishtar, Astarte, Ashtaroth, BABALON.
Her face is smoked shulamite dark with the burning cedars cut down from the high places.
She is blamed for the beauty of the daughters of Jerusalem,
thrown as Jezebel to the dogs,
castigated as Salome,
mistaken for the Magdalene,
muddled with the lesser lilith.
Smouldering red with iniquities and the denial of Love,
She knows Her Strength.

She is not destroyed by your history John, but brought with it.
A bloody pomegranate seed pressed in the pages which once tasted recovers the lost dream.

Augmented by the whispers of mandrake, poppy, hemlock, belladonna, hashish, wine.
The rising stench of sex and sweat and sperm and blood and always ever roses.

BABALON is conjured in a monastery nightmare of succubi and dis-embodied cocks.
An inquisitors fantasy tortured from the lips of the lost.
Torn with pincers, boot crushed and hoisted in strappado to the heavens.
This is how Witchcraft learned how to fly.

The wisdom of the Whore is the control of Her body and life.
Irregular attempts are made to break the tyranny of marriage,
To abort the bastard children of mother church.
The Queen of the Sabbat reveals a thin slit of red petticoat beneath the damnable black.

Yet the church shackles woman to misery.
Drags her down from the high places
where she is forced to buy freedom by being fucked in the alleyways.
Sacred sex profaned into possession, for an hour, or a lifetime of slavery.
A litany of rape, murder, abuse.

John Dee, bent in prayer does not hear this.
Kneeling with Kelley he seeks the language of Angels, and receives a revelation liveried green as garlic blades, white as lilies, red as blood and black as bilberry juice.
Unfolding from the showstone, an Empire of Angels that divides the globe for the red headed Harlot on the Lion throne.

Madimi moves through the library stacks.
My Mother will make her house here.

Jesus is not god, no prayer should be made unto Jesus, none shall judge you.

BABALON again from the long dark ages.
BABALON as Kelley, Dee, Jane and Joan exchange places between the sheets.
BABALON in the solve et coagule.
BABALON in the sex sphinx secret of alchemical interchange.

The retort shatters on the stand.
The four fall apart forever.

Kelley plunges from the tower, to his death.
Babel again, and Simon Magus,
a final transformation in the red mercury mess of his shattered shanks.

We pay our debts to BABALON in blood, not gold, and Her cup runneth over.

Who will heed the speech of the Daughter of Fortitude?
Her cross-crystal, golden girdle and naked breasts.

Make your houses clean, for I come unto you again.

Dee’s papers tumble from the secret chest and pass into the Golden Dawn.
Miscoloured, mispronounced, and mystified.

Only Crowley pursues Her into the Aethyr,
Spells Her like Dee, as wickedness.
Storms heaven on pearlescent cocaine wings and sexual excess,
Eats grass like an ox,
Wills, Knows, Dares, and tells.

Yet the Beast remains without a Bridal,
The cat, the snake, the camel, the monster..
Where is the Woman in this menagerie?
Incomplete, Alys kisses the back of his hand preparing for a Love he never surrenders to.
Never finds.

Where is She?

Lady Frieda Harris draws Her for us distilled from the Master’s last breaths.

LUST.

An explosion of red and gold.

Parsons adores Her with pressed black powder charges.
Chanting Enochian, mescaline, amphetamine.
Here is the spirit of the Law, flowing as nectar.
Flowering with the Pasadena roses,
Spreading Her petals on the backdrop of the city of Angels.
Gone West to the new world Dee promised Her.

With huckster Hubbard, Jack strains for Love on this Battlefield Earth.
Despite the elemental mistakes he wins his vision.

Flame is our lady, flame is Her hair.
I am living Flame.

Cameron, miscast, fails to shoulder her role.

Parsons goes after the Witchcraft as a smashed flask of red mercury, as a storm of dust blown across the Mojave desert, as a crater on the darkside of the Moon.

The A-Bomb cracks the Akashic.
The fallout drifts down like sakura.
Babalon unveiled is starmarked by it.

The two thousand year Reich of Horus draws short.
Grant sees the teratomas, but there is little Love in his Craft.
Magick bickers and splits as we tilt past the tipping point.

Our Goddess is not Nuit blue emptiness, but brimful Belsen furnace red.

She tells us:

It is the woman who initiates.
It is Love which transforms.
It is blood which transmits.

Exchange your cakes with kalas cooked to cinders.
For kisses from Her living lips.
Let go of false learning.
Forsake the cult of the severed head.
For BABALON sings in your blood.

The world is drunken and vexed, running on fumes.
A price on everything, a value on nothing.

It is here BABALON, that we evoke thee.
Everything becoming red.
Enochian angels pouring warlike from the watchtowers ,
and the 24 elders of days wondering where their God has gone.

Holy, Holy, Holy is the Whore.

BABALON
Here is the vision of a universe composed of burning roses,
Of everything fucking everything.

Be drunken as the reeling stars.
Adore the whore on hands and knees.
Open your beds and your hearts
Fuck and find Love.

Dakinis eviscerate the fallen Saints for their bridal wear.
The armies mass for battle and She is here.
Babalon is here to bridle, bind, blossom and burn.
Her time is NOW.

Holy, Holy, Holy is the Whore -Alkistis Dimech

But who is this whore?

Babalon, the patroness of sex workers is not just the Goddess of call girls, rent boys the dispossessed and despised.

I want to move on from this initial image of the whore as we have a tendency to get caught in Her fishnets and lipstick and go no deeper into the mystery.

We are all of Babalon. We are all Babalon.
BABALON has been archetyped, stereotyped and hyped - and still remains an enigma to us.
She does not fit neatly into Thelema. For all the voices, Hers is absent from the Book of the Law.
BABALON is entirely other than Nuit.

BABALON is our sex, our body, our world.

She vibrates with raw sexual energy.
This is what makes Her whore.
Mortgages cannot be guaranteed on this kind of Love.
This is a Love which destroys in order to create.
She has claimed whoredom as the domain of the free. Those in the know.
To maintain the status quo, our society has driven sacred respect for sex onto streetcorners, into dungeons, brothels, and kink.

BABALON controls and diverts this sexual and creative energy toward enlightenment.

Society perverts this energy to enslave us.

Even now, in England women are forced into arranged marriages,
Female circumcision is practised.
Rape and domestic violence are common.
America preaches abstinence programmes to prevent AIDS.
Abortion rights are continually under threat.
Islam places its women in slavery.

I hear few complaints about ID cards, a country bristling with cctv cameras, the slavery of a nine to six day propped up on designer coffee and paid for by the starvation wages of the developing world.

Perhaps this is the isolation of I-pod and an always on mobile phone, shivering our reality into sound-bite snippets of gossip.

In the modern retelling of the Tower of Babel myth we are reduced to the paucity of text message speak and emoticons. AC 93s LOL

Do you spend more time online than in meditation?

Is Babalon a photoshop collage rather than embedded in your living flesh?

To Work with Babalon is to have these superficial veils rent.

The eye of the screen is replaced by the passionate presence of the beloved.

Control of people through their sexuality goes hand in hand with exploitation of the world,
and BABALON is the world, is matter.

We are still deluded by the Christian lie that everything is God given for us to use and abuse, and the planet is ravaged.

Our resources are war spoiled, plundered by the greed of industrialisation,
Peoples, languages, flora and fauna are being lost.
But if Amazon one-click ordering still works we have that next book to look forward to. Tomorrow always comes.

We are left with the same bland products and told that consumption is freedom.

Biodiversity is undergoing a genocide to support a society, drunk on oil.

Babalon delights in multiplicity, but this is a diminishing.

John Dee felt that the book of nature was corrupting in his fingers.
That there was an acceleration towards a reckoning, a revelation, the second coming of Christ.
This is what the angels told him, make your houses clean.
The signs were written in the skies, a grand conjunction, a comet, a new star.
And here we are 418 years later. The warnings unheeded.

The signs we have now are more than warnings.
As we map the human genome the world is disappearing under water, fire, famine.
The elements are out of control.

Can you be sure how long we have left?

We have been criticised for suggesting these are apocalyptic times.
Some seem to think that by clicking our heels three times and saying the word of the Aeon of Horus everything will conform to the Thelemic paradigm.
Neither Aleister nor Aiwass predicted global environmental collapse, so perhaps we can ignore these facts:

1 in 4 mammals is threatened with extinction
1 in 8 birds
1 in 3 amphibians
Three quarters of the world’s fish stocks are at risk.

The extinction rate is from 100 to 1000 times higher than at any time in our fossil records.

Our oceans are dying.
Our forests are clear cut.
Our air is poisoned.

Even if we see this as a natural cycle, the planet simply cannot support the burgeoning populations of the developing world and the inflated supersized lifestyles of the developed.

Natural catastrophes, disease and resistance to drugs, artfully constructed wars to support stuttering economies. The world stage has never been so slick, with images, with oil, with blood.

The cup is filling, in torn arterial torrents.

My concern as a Thelemite is we are still reading from Crowley’s dated scripts.
The mass and rituals degenerating into panto with costume and cake.
We must pursue and encourage new work, new voices.
We must allow ourselves to hear new revelations, the voices speaking to us now.

Stop reading from scripts and stray into heresy.
The world is drastically different from when Thelema arose, and we have right-royally fucked up the royal road. There is more to learn by straying, doing what thou wilt requires killing the Buddha, Lao Tzu , Edward Kelley and of course Sir Aleister Crowley. Once you’ve mastered the master, become a god. She is waiting for you.

Dee’s green woman has told us, ‘Nature is preparing for a world without humans’.
BABALON is here at our moment of crisis.
Not another fuck fantasy imploring us towards the divine feminine and the rehabilitation of our divided selves. For Love’s sake She has come to fuck us up,
to shift our awareness,
to transform us radically in an earth from which we have wrenched our own roots and landfilled to oblivion.

We have to Work with BABALON.
But it is not for the magician to lie back and be straddled because his dexterity is mental rather than physical.
To meet Babalon on the battlefield or in the bedroom you need conditioning.
It is not enough for the Priestess to slip on a red dress and then put it back in the wardrobe at the rituals end.
How can one even face Her without having worked and sweated and pushed into one’s limits,
let alone expect a kiss from those sweet lips?
She is ever present—now beyond our boundaries, our confines, our thoughts.
She can be held, She is real.
When we exceed ourselves we know that.
And feel Her.
Only when you let yourself fall, going beyond mental, emotional, and physical limits.
Draw your circle with your hips, find Her in ecstacy.

It is not simply an anecdote that Crowley was a mountaineer.
The energy body arises from the physical.
Spirit and matter intertwined.

We are in the world, and in our bodies. Adding and subtracting is not the way to work it out.
Put down your Abracadabacus, IT is in the body.
The missing piece in this burning ground, this Eden, is Love.
I suggest you prepare yourselves.

BABALON is here.

If you want more, we would gently point you to www.scarletimprint.com and Peter Grey's The Red Goddess.

An excellent review of the Red Goddess has just appeared in Mandrake Speaks, the Mandrake Press of Oxford newsletter.  An  indepth look at the text by the highly regarded Mogg Morgan:

The Red Goddess by Peter Grey (review)258pp, Hardback 2008 £37 + p&p
This is a beautiful, provocative, thought-provoking book, one man’s journey in search of the obscure object of his desire – full of odd typography, robust, sometimes rough language and a £37 price tag.
Using the latest research from books such as "Strange Angel" , "Love and Rockets" and "The Unknown God" the author blends his own narrative around that which he sees as the three pillars of the Babalonian mythos – Enochian Magick, Aleister Crowley and Jack Parsons. Thus one reads: "Eunuchs have been used traditionally to serve the Goddess, often as sodomitic dog priests. That name is not a slur but most likely comes from their dog position sex. These were important priests who served the ancient Love Goddess by sacrifi
cing their reproductive power. They are no longer men. They cannot penetrate the mystery. I will not advocate the joys of self castration or the smooth root of the Skopsie, but it is certainly one way to serve Our Lady. I prefer Magick with the balls to push shaft deep into the crimson petals of the Goddess."
Babalon is modern goddess, one of the most recent to emerge from the cauldron of serendipity. Even so, some, Peter Grey amongst them, would claim she has antique roots. She remerged in the modern world via the writings of Aleister Crowley, who is also responsible for renovating the old English spelling as Babalon, which has a significant numerology of 156 as opposed to 165. For Babylon, is an ancient Mesopotamian city, the Bête Noire of the ancient Hebrews, and therefore a natural cipher for corruption and hubris in the strange apocalyptic end game of the Biblical New Testament. I’m talking of the Book of Revelation, a book that exerted a powerful influence on Crowley’s imagination and one way or another figured large in his new Thelemic mythos.The Book of Revelation is widely believed to contain much hidden and indeed Kabbalistic symbolism, So no surprise that the "anti-gods" of that book turn out to be, according to Thelemites, the true corrective of the modern age.
The goddesses of ancient Babylon were Innana, Ishtar and Astarte. These are "Red Goddesses" in more ways than one – and possible role models for the modern woman who is powerful, self sufficient and above all sexual. Whether modern "scarlet woman" is, as Herodotus suggested, willing to give herself to any man for any small coin, seems unlikely these days somehow. So in as much as the author of Revelation was saying that it’s the goddesses that really bring society down, Crowley and the Thelemites say the opposite.Few would argue that Peter’s Red Goddess is a Mesopotamian creation. Most of us accept Mesopotamia, as the "cradle of civilization" and the dispersal hub for many important things, writing, astrology, technology, religion, etc etc.
I must admit my own dealings with "The Red Goddess" are in her Egyptian territory (see "The Bull of Ombos") Peter devotes a short chapter to the exploration of her possible Egyptian roots, although this is maybe a clear example of where the works of the Victorian Egyptophile Gerald Massey provide an inadequate guide to the material.AFAIK, Egypt, did indeed benefit from early contacts with Mesopotamia before the rise of the Pharaohs (i.e. 4000BCE) but its main development was independent. So for example although writing may have been invented in Mesopotamia, it was also invented quite independently in Egypt, presumably for the same imperative. The earliest reference in Egypt to the Semitic goddesses Astarte and Anat belongs to the reign of Thutmoses c1500bce, both love goddesses were married to ultimate "Red Bull" Seth. But my Egyptian "Red Goddess" has to be Hathor, a goddess as old as time, goddess of the cattle cult (hence the horns) she is indeed sensual, sexual and intoxicated. (See "Hathor’s Secrets") When old man Ra is down in the dumps she lifts her skirts and gives him a laugh.Having said something of the mythology of Innana et al, Peter soon leaves behind the ancient world. I definitely wanted more info on Mesopotamian religion, as his analysis is consistently interesting and engaging.
He then follows the tracks of the Belle Dame Sans Merci, through the writings of her numerous modern devotees, including John Dee, Marquis de Sade, Jack Parsons and indeed many a modern mage, including his own dealing with she who must be obeyed, which brings to mind the lines of the song "my knuckles are bleeding and my knees are raw". This reworking of the Crowleyian material on the nature of the scarlet women, is seen largely through his poetry and forms "The Red Goddess’ " vibrant core.Peter has no time for the post modern obsession with transgender and reclaiming the "blossoms of bone". "Eunuchs" he tells us, "cannot penetrate the mystery." But there again for me, Babalon might be like "post porn modernist" Annie Sprinkle –the love of whose life is famously the tortured Les, a female to male transsexual.
So all in all an interesting and provocative monograph; worthy I would think of some wider circulation. It might be that this first edition which is perhaps aimed at the "collector" for whom "the medium is the message." Its white wibeline cover with red embossing is very striking; there are tipped in illustrations, one in colour. And indeed interior text is black and occasional red. Even so I’d be happy to read it in a standard hardback "Starfire" mode or even a good trade paperback. But whatever way you read it, it’s definitely worth a spin. [Mogg]

www.scarletimprint.com

Dear Friends,

Just a brief announcement.
We are preparing a new title for publication in October.

Voudon Gnosis by David Beth.

For those interested in the Voudon Gnostic Workbook and the world of Michael Bertiaux's esoteric voudon, this will prove to be an invaluable guide.

Those wanting all the booknographic details of the publication will have to wait a little while.
Pre-orders will be opening in mid september for our subscriber list.

If you want to get a sense for the text, fuller details can now be found on the scarletimprint.com website.

We can tantalisingly promise that there will be other titles before the end of the year.

In Nomine Babalon

Scarlet Imprint x

Our google alert brought up another reader review, we thought we'd share with you, the word is spreading:

Book Review
The Red Goddess By Peter Grey
Scarlet Imprint,
UK Summer Solstice 2008 edition

I enjoy the mythos of BABALON. There is something about powerful and sexual female energies that sits right with me (having worked in the past with Lilith and Morrigan, whom I still work with). But BABALON is the best aspects of both in a single entity.

So when I heard about this book, I insisted on buying it. Although the first time I heard about it, the first 2007 print run had been done (156 copies) and was sold out in quick time. And then I found a 2008 run being done, 777 copies (I got #63) with 49 hand bound leather editions being made. I bought both (still waiting for the hand bound edition to be finished and then arrive, it will be a few months).

This book is very hard to describe in words in a coherent manner. It is a wondrous mix of history, and gnostic speculation on the behalf of the author, Peter Grey.

He starts with the history of Babalon and her appearance in The Book of Revelations and why she is essentially feared by the Phallo-jealous monotheists. She empowers the freedom of enjoyment, pleasure and powerful-dangerous womanhood.

To quote two small paragraphs:

We are watchers of the dance of veils as Salome, Mary Magdalene, Isis and Astarte display the shrine of the mystery to our hungry eyes. She is a pole dancer, a dollar whore, a catwalk advert for impossibly red lipstick, a beautiful young girl. Your first love.
She is the Sophia of the Gnostics, a Black Madonna, a heroine of the heretic heart.

Both Aleister Crowley and Jack Parson's get a good lot of mention throughout the book, although in itself, it is not a Thelemic portrayed idea within the pages. Infact Grey spends a small amount of time politely attacking Crowley as a person and his documented behaviour towards women, whilst praising his spiritual practices and the path the To Mega Therion paved for the rest of us. In my reading, Grey's approach to Crowley didn't sit badly, although it may annoy or upset Othodox Thelemites partially.

The second third of the book, where the references to the O.T.O and Thelema exist the most follows on the history of Babalon to historical manifestations of her and her worship. Jesus is mentioned, along with Simon Magnus, Jack Parsons and other quite interestingly Iohn Dee, alongside his Enochian discoveries.

The third and final part explores the means to worship and bring Babalon into your life, through ritual practices, ingesting sacraments, sexual acts, bondage, chemicals and even as simple as inhaling the scent of a Damascus rose. But, as warned by the author, bringing Babalon into your life may leave scars, as she is a Goddess of both Love, Lust and War.

And last and not least, before words fail me entirely, the visual presentation of this book is breathtaking. White cover, with the BABALON lamen / sigil pressed into it in red, the bookends in a deep scarlet red, lovely thick stock paper, with smatterings of red text sprinkled throughout. And four gloss plates, illustrating Babalon herself in various forms. The Thoth Lust card by Lady Frieda Harris being the last plate.

I won't recommend everyone buys this, it may not be for them, but at least taste from its pages and get a feel for the Holy Whore, the Scarlet Woman that Rides the Seven Headed Beast.

Dear Friends,

ScarletImprint are deep in the French Alps under a world of thunderstorms and high peaks and writing, writing, writing.

There are six books in progress. We have our Work cut out.

Peter Grey has an extensive essay on Parsons and the Witchcraft published in The Oracle magazine. This is an entirely new piece of writing, which we will publish ourselves in due course.
The Oracle  is the only serious occult publication being produced with any frequency in the UK.
The website can be found here: www.oracleoccult.com
Copies can be bought in all UK Occult bookshops or obtained by emailing the editor (address is on the website).
The Oracle is the result of the tireless work of David Blank, one of the unsung heroes of the current revival. David is a true gentleman, modest and intensely dedicated to his work, a highly personal practice of sorcery. ScarletImprint hope to be publishing a piece from him later this year to bring much needed attention to his path.

The Red Goddess is continuing to make an impact, garnering lovely reviews and a steady stream of emails and orders.

We will be emailing our subscribers soon with details of our next confirmed publication, watch your inbox.

In Nomine Babalon

Scarlet Imprint x

Dear Friends,

Scarlet Imprint are delighted to announce the publication of: The Red Goddess for midday Summer Solstice June 21.

This title is now available for you to order.

The Red Goddess is an octavo book of 260pp, printed throughout in red and black ink, and with four luscious plates.
The standard edition is strikingly bound in white book cloth, scarlet endpapers, and embossed with the seven pointed star of BABALON. Each and every book is perfumed and consecrated.

It is being prepared in a strictly limited and hand-numbered edition of seven hundred and seventy-seven copies.
A copy can be yours for thirty-seven English pounds plus postage.

In addition, 49 devotee copies of The Red Goddess are being quarter bound in black moroccan goat and finished in scarlet silk with hand marbled endpapers. These fine books will be bound by Brian Settle. Each one a work of art and rare beauty in a world of mass production. We will only sell these direct to individuals who contact us and explain why they wish to own a copy, a necessary step given the speculators who seek to profit from our work.
These are magickal books, for a magickal purpose, and that is their value.
We do accept installments, as we want our books to reach the right people.

The devotee copies will each cost an hundred and fifty six English pounds plus secure delivery.

The Red Goddess is an ecstatic journey through the unheard history of BABALON, from Revelations back through the Ishtar Gate and forward into a living modern magickal current.
This is an explicit and challenging vision of a very modern Goddess coming into power. This is more than a history, it is a passionate account of living magick and the transcendent power of Love.

The epic sweep of the text takes us from Babylon to Jerusalem to Rome, and onwards to Apocalypse.
It looks at the angelic work of renaissance mage John Dee.
It lays bare the excesses of Aleister Crowley, and unlocks the secrets of Waratah Blossoms.
It explains the immolation of the Californian antichrist-superstar Jack Parsons and his relationship with Scientology founder L.Ron Hubbard.

This is the missing history of the Holy Whore.

Thirteen essays conclude the book on subjects including: roses, mirror magick, BDSM, aphrodisiac drugs, the information age, love vs lust, and the meaning of apocalypse.

Intelligent and balanced reviews for the previous edition from both readers and people of standing in the occult community can be found at www.scarletimprint.com

Those working with Ishtar, Inanna, Lilith, Kali, Sekhmet, Bast, Freya, Pomba Gira, Erzulie, witchcraft, Tantra, sacred sex and ritual transgression will find much here to intrigue, inspire and challenge them.

The Red Goddess is suitable for anyone with blood in their veins, regardless of tradition, background or experience.

It is a Love story.

To secure your copy please credit our paypal account for £37 plus postage scarletimprint@gmail.com

Postage rates are:
UK First Class £4
Europe £6
Worldwide £10

If you do not have a paypal account and wish to pay by cheque (uk residents only), please email us and we will forward you our postal address.
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Full details can be found at www.scarletimprint.com

This is an important book for these times.

In Nomine Babalon

Scarlet Imprint x

This release is public, please feel free to post on any communities or to personal contacts, we very much appreciate your support.

Scarlet Imprint announces the publication of:

The Red Goddess by Peter Grey on 07/07/07

A strictly limited talismanic publication in an edition of an hundred and fifty and six copies.
All copies are hardback slip cased and 156pp, professionally printed, bound, consecrated, numbered, signed and sealed.

The contents and conclusions of this book have never been published elsewhere.

The Red Goddess takes you through a tale of sex, drugs and violence.

This is an ecstatic journey through the unheard history of BABALON from Revelations, back through the Ishtar Gate and forward into a living modern magickal current.

This is an explicit and challenging vision of a very modern goddess coming into power.
This is more than a history, it is a passionate account of living magick and the transcendent power of Love.

The Red Goddess answers the fundamental questions: 

Who is BABALON?
Why should we care?
Where did She come from and where is She going?

Does Revelations have anything to tell us?
Is there a hidden western tradition of sacred sex?

The epic sweep of the text takes us from Babylon to Jerusalem to Rome, and onwards to Apocalypse.
It looks at the angelic work of renaissance mage John Dee. 
It delivers a devastating exegisis on the excesses of Aleister Crowley, and unlocks the secrets of Waratah Blossoms.
It explains the immolation of the Californian antichrist-superstar Jack Parsons and his relationship with Scientology founder L.Ron Hubbard.

There is also a full supporting cast of Solomon, Simon Magus, St John the Divine, Earl Bothwell, the Templars, Mary, the Magdalene and countless others.

This is the missing history of the Holy Whore.

Thirteen essays conclude the book on subjects including: roses, mirror magick, BDSM, aphrodisiac drugs,  the information age, love vs lust, and the meaning of apocalypse.

Those working with Ishtar, Inanna, Lilith, Kali, Sekhmet, Bast, Freya, Pomba Gira, Erzulie, witchcraft, tibetan tantra, sacred sex and transgression will find much here to intrigue and inspire them.

The Red Goddess is suitable for anyone with blood in their veins, regardless of tradition, background or experience. 

It is a Love story.