You find your tribe on the open mountains
the avalanches buried under the sea
you find your story happen just like you wrote it
down to the details of your wildest dreams

And all the nails of this material coffin
turn into feathers on a talking bird
Your soul is lifted to another dimension
Hang in their baby, this might hurt

(chorus)
The Tower is close
You are wired to the fold
you have walked into the void
of the darkest night of the soul
and you are gold

The souls around you carry a lamplight
Gather together when it looks like rain
Everyone knows that the Big One’s comin’
Everyone knows you gotta hop that train

And take a lesson from the Buddha sipping wine
Take a lesson from the rolling plains
Let the stars read you their novel
and learn to meditate when you’re in pain

The Tower is close
You are wired to the fold
you have walked into the void
of the darkest night of the soul
and you are gold

when I was sixteen, I dreamed
I’d tried to cut my arms open
and they put me in a cabin in the woods
all alone
and the doorbell rang, it was the Author
of All Things, he said,
“You got one story to write
before you’re gone,
And you’re not gone
Wake up and be done
Shatter your imprints, impliments of torture
on the rock of Truth.”

In these dirty streets, empty of leaves
Remember the Rose that grows up through concrete
And the spell of urban gypsies
weaving the night air into tapestries
of indigo kids
fighting their way home

The Tower is close
You are wiser than you know
you have walked into the void
of the darkest night of the soul
and you are gold

NEW DEMIGODS MUSIC!

The Demigods will be playing many shows this year, hopefully building up to a tour next year. You can see our current listings at our Myspace page. Please support us by purchasing our music DIRECTLY from us at our DIY-record label website: http://www.theglobalreality.com/fml-recordings. We’re working on a demo for the Demigods and hope to be able to record a full-length album by next spring. Your support is vital to our ability to produce more music, so please donate or buy directly from us. Thanks.

Delphi’s Solo Project: The Threshhold Sea

I’ll be working on a solo album project, tentatively called The Threshhold Sea. This will be my fourth solo release, and I’m really excited about releasing these songs. There will be songs on this album that have never been released and will not be played (very often, at least) live at the Demigods shows. I want this project to be something intimate, delicate, accoustic, and very different from the sounds we’ve created with The Demigods.

I’ll be working with photographer Dee Hill, who did the following portraits of me in her house and garden, to tell the stories of these songs. The Threshhold Sea is a line from one of my songs, “The Road,” which was my reaction to the novel of the same name by Cormack McCarthy. Most of my other songs are from my own first-person political perspective, like “School Without Walls,” or “33rd Degree.” By now, you’re all pretty used to my political leanings, exposing the esoteric priest class movements underlying world events. This next album, I want to do something different. I’ve started pulling songs up from someplace else, it seems–from the voices of women watching the Western world be pulled up from under their feet, the earth around them dying in the days of a healing and splintered, newly-industrial United States. Carnival girls too, also make an appearance, as do intergalactic pirate ships and skeleton circuses.

Here’s a small taste of what is to come:

(untitled new song)

I hear the locusts on the wind
great Blue Norther comin’ in
Rockefeller stole our land
and the railroad took my sons
I hear the horses on the grass
hooves beating like breaking glass
they know these old machines will
one day never run

What have we done?
What have we done?

I passed a Cherokee Girl today
with a look of torture on her face
the blood of conquest for the cities of the sun
And the slaves are free, so they say
still endentured to the ways
of a backwards master who enslaves
with debt and guns

What have we done?
What have we done?

And my gypsy great-grandmother
I brought over with my sixteen year old sister
is still in New York on the assembly line.
And my Irish fatehr died
a year before she arrived
the coal mines did their time
and the mountains claim their blood

And all my lovers left
to conquer the uncharted West
like a whore in vain
trying desperately to find some love

What have we done?
What have we done?

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Can’t shake the dawn
Dawn, curling its toes around humanity
the disengenuous, the tenative
humanity
who shrinks from difficulty like a snail from salt
the solid rock bite too strong,
raises her voice,
She says, look what time it is
here in the unfleshed houses
You bathe your bodies in scent and status
to remind yourself to forget
how hard it is
when you live by the land
how lovely it is
to have no posessions
how strange it is
to be a new kind of shaman
with all your trappings of success.

You see, my children suffered.
The Dawn’s children took their meals when I administered them
and took their water from my consent.
You tap the earth, and rightly so
but you’ve forgotten what it is to know the sweet taste
of spring
after a winter of suffering
and what it is to know the morning
after the longest night of the forest.

Dawn looked sharply at the river running through her,
the silver snake twining, spinning new stories
snake of knowledge biting, snake of mercurial ink,
messenger, winged serpent on the stone.
Snake River, she said, rise up in me
Rise up in my children and remind them
that the Matrix may have them, that Paradise might be Lost,
but that you can’t take the dawn’s warmth
from the winter frost
and you can’t shake the snow
without my light
rising
rising
rising up right.

riday, December 12, 2008

Another world
I dreamed of these ruins of a carnival and an old house in the desert, like recent ruins, but they’d been dried with sand and time.

Which really isn’t much different from the way things are here. When a building project goes under or a mall isn’t making enough money, it’s just left to rot, there is no infrastructure to tear it down, leaving this weirdly apocalyptic world next to pristine marble mansions and gardens that rival Nebuchadnezzar’s.

I went to the Red Sea yesterday and thankfully, a world does exist beneath the desert. You get quite a sense of just how much of an ocean floor the desert really is when you’re over here…miles and miles of flat sand with sparse vulcan hills flicking off the sky in defiance. The ocean is amazing, once you swim out past where all the coral has died and see the last living thing before the big drop. It looked just like Finding Nemo, all the fish were intensely colorful and the rocks swam with the current…like hair moving on a giant stone head.

This is incredible until you realize that every single ecosystem in the ocean is dying, and it is a direct result of our influence. When you swim out there, you forget about things going on on the land. The madness of religion, the political pandering, the shallow view of humanity that’s expressed in our insane desire for the material. You forget that all of this could be over in a second, that no politician ever follows through with the promises they make, and that the world is in a state of extreme unbalance.

You forget, and you remember, too.

You remember that it wasn’t that long ago that we had to swim out to sea to catch our food, that we made the most of each day because life was much shorter, that we lived through our myths and that a rite of passage was essential to each person living in the culture. You remember that a fish is just a person is just a planet is just a star system in a galaxy floating along the reef of a vast, vast universe…you remebmer that the stars are plankton, a whale is a nebula, and that the deepest Mariana Trench, to a tiny fish, is no where near as massive as the supermassive black holes that spin all of creation around its dark unknown.

For these memories, I am grateful. But like Odysseus, who was tempted by the beautiful Calypso of the Sea, who would have chosen him among all men as her lover forever, and whom he turned away because his heart was back in Ithaca, the Sea can’t make me forget everything. This is the second Full Moon here for me, second since that one in October that changed everything, that keeps my heart in Ithaca even when I’m out in the land of the Lotus Eaters gathering knowledge from the old world.

Love you all, miss you. Six more moons to go.

From The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn Blog:

Particularly noteworthy is Colquhoun’s mention of an oral tradition regarding sexuality within the original HOGD as well as in the Alpha et Omega. Colquhoun also mentions that, in her opinion, the sexual aspects should appear in the highest grades of any occult fraternity, including the projected Third Order of the original Golden Dawn, as is presently the case in the Third Order of Mathers’ Alpha et Omega.
Colquhoun further discusses actual rituals pertaining to sexual polarity performed by early members of the Golden Dawn. In particular, she discusses at length the unpublished “Lilith” ritual of A.E. Waite that she found at the Warburg Institute. Finally, Colquhoun also discusses issues pertaining to Golden Dawn ritual and tantra groups regarding sexual polarity and the role of women in both tantra groups as well as in the original Golden Dawn.

“The Road.”

Take my heart, crack it open
Take my body, split it wide.
Take my hands, neatly folded,
Let them flail mad and wild.
Take my words, erase them all,
for what they cannot say.
Take me here, before the Fall
I will not run away

This road may be the death of me
We may not make it child
But I’ll be with you in the threshhold sea–
One day, I’ll see you smile

Take my breath, it isn’t good anymore,
unless it labors with love.
Take my mind, it’s useless paramours,
a swimming pool devoured by the flood.
Let the walls around me tumble down,
Until all I have left, is you.
Take what’s left of this burned out house,
May it warm you, through and through.

This wayward half that’s left of me
Cries only now for peace.
A voice for this silent effigy
that smoulders under the keep.

Well I know it’s only just a song to you,
but to me it is what will come:
Eminate love a thousandfold,
and to you it will return.

This road may be the death of me.
We may not make it, child.
But I’ll be with you in the threshhold sea–
One day I’ll see you smile.

One day I’ll see you smile.

Lyrics HERE.