• Pagan Poetry

    Pagan Poetry

    An old favorite of mine that I happily share with you. Some of the best Pagan literature came out of Green Egg and much of it lives on in canon now.

    THE MODERN ESOTERICIST
    by Bill Beattie, from Shadowplay To the tune of “I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major General”

    I am the very model of a modern esotericist
    A seasoned astral traveler and edifying exorcist,
    A sparkling star astrologer, a dead adroit necromancer,
    A dab hand as a palmist and a card as a tarotmancer,
    I’ve old tradition lineage from Celtic to Hispanical;
    I’ve channeled Dion Fortune and I’ve busted cults satanical;
    Elusively mysterious in Eleusinian Mysteries,
    I’ve disproved ninety-three percent of Margaret Murray’s histories.
    My patented aphrodisiacs would make a satyr hornier
    I’ve manifested unicorns in Southern California.
    In short, in matters magickal, I’m manic as a terrorist;
    I am the very model  of a modern esotericist!
    I am the very model of a modern esotericist.
    My mystic methodology’s inherently empiricist!
    I’ve glided over Glastonbury on broomsticks that I travel on;
    I won’t deny the rumors that I ghost-wrote Mists of Avalon.
    A truly great Great Riter and a master of tantrickery,
    I’ve been up the Shining Pathways til the Guardians are sick of me.
    I dazzle neo-Pagans as I tango round the Wiccan ring
    And, miracle of miracles, I sometimes stop their bickering!
    I’ve raised the ghost of Crowley in a Gnostic Mass invoking in
    Sumerian, Bavarian, Etruscan and Enochian.
    I’d sing another chorus but I must rush to see my therapist;
    I am the very model of a modern esotericist!

    From the Green Egg vol. XXIV no.95

    …and for those who are not “Pirates of Penzance” by Gilbert & Sullivan literate, here is the tune:

    Plus one of my own:
    PASSINGS
    And so it is that all things work in cycles
    In beginnings and endings,
    Births, deaths and rebirths,
    Destruction and rebuilding,
    For that is the way of nature
    And the cycle of the Wheel.
    The new will forever
    Stretch away all
    That is old and outmoded
    And detrimental to our progress,
    Not always with our consent
    Or discretion.
    People come and go in our lives
    Leaving occasional tokens
    Of their presence, influence and passing:
    A house, a baby, a feeling…
    And then they are gone
    Like a scent stolen
    By a summer breeze.
    Others affect us in ways
    That we could never imagine
    Upon first meeting them,
    When eyes make the first contact
    And we discern
    In our deepest self
    The connection of future friend, lover, spouse;
    Not always recognizing
    That identification
    On a conscious level.
    Oft times if we knew
    In that first meeting
    Of the pain that would ensue
    With the passage of time
    And the continuation
    Of that relationship,
    We would flee
    With our lives and our souls intact,
    Never daring to glance that way again,
    Gladly foregoing any pleasure
    That connection would have delivered
    In favor of the blissful lack of anguish
    Should that meeting have never occurred;
    Embracing instead the void that would have been pain
    Had we been but
    A little more careful,
    A little more insightful,
    And a little less impulsive.
    Yet then, we would never have lessons,
    We would never have the joy of love
    And the wisdom of the Ages.
    We would never grow and we would never live.
    If we guided our own progress and chose our own lessons
    There would be none.
    To feel love and to chance pain
    Or to feel safe and chance nothing,
    I would choose love.

    518CjQ0zonL._UX250_CLICK HERE TO FIND KATRINA’S BOOKS (FICTION & NONFICTION) ON AMAZON

    10928866_1041223679237965_1965610168637356891_nCLICK HERE TO “LIKE” PATHEOS PAGAN ON FACEBOOK