Samhain Full Moon Sabbat
18th Oct. 2002, 491 Gallery Leytonstone London

Hail Gwyn Ap Nudd, and Caer Arianhrod;
Hail Cernunnos Woden and Cerridwen Freya!

Come Weik-ans and Gwyddons, abreast basilisks and griffins; Witches and Faeries, Charivari and Sidhe and Striga, Sorcerers and Sylphs, Grease Birds and Gandreidh, by horse and hattock; Taltos and tantrics, on broomsticks and manticores, on Mandragora Mandragoras, by bee and by cat, by hound and by hare, riding staves of wood or flesh, Join the host, Join the Wild Hunt...

Above: The Priestesses of the Bauwdr stir the Sabbat cauldron.

Below: Orryelle's ESOTEROTICA Exhibition the Opening of-which began the night's revelry, and his miniature CHORONZON MACHINE made of watch parts, the first piece to sell (for 3.33-recurring pounds).

London's THE DIONYSIAN UNDERGROUND Grapevine and THE ART ORGANISATION, in collaboration with Australia's METAMORPHIC RITUAL THEATRE Company and Scotland's HUMAN PRODUCT presented a night of orgiastic communion with the Spirit Worlds - the WILD HUNT Bacchanalia, a traditional and Dionysiac Samhain Sabbat adapted to today's technological context.

Preparatory afternoon rites at nearby Leytonstone Church graveyard over the ivyclad grave of Dionysos ('whose spirit lies buried here and in all Christian graveyards, well fermented by the suppression of their age like a fine wine corked for an aeon') called the appropriate energies along the leys to Leytonstone - where the Great Horned Faire of Olde England ran on this very date (Oct.18th) - reviving the ivy-clad spirit of Dionysos for the imminent revelry.

In our daring play we managed to manifest to sufficient degree
Ye olde Samhain Sabbat of the witches in the flesh!

No mere astral conclave was this
(though they too were present, the mist-shrouded host of the dead and the faye in the midst of minds sundered arrayed);
Libidinous sorcerors and magnificent maenads displayed
Their flesh and enmeshed it with forms and with phantasms
in a lurid and lucid ecstatic display.

The Ivyrii of Dionysos arose anew and wound and writhed and grew
through the dancing crowd and the Sabbat was earthed in London's underground.
In a tangled vine of joy and pain the Horned Lord
with ivy encrowned was enthroned in Malkuth then abruptly slain.
And the storm-bruised night was alight
With the host who about the moon's shroud doth hunt in the faery-rade of Samhain.

With the Sex Priestessses of the Bauwder I danced the plants
and their spirits into the cauldron,
stirring the vinum sabbati under Eye of the Old Ones.
Of glove of fox and bane of wolf,
of lock of hem and drake (draco) of man was the Ungenteum Sabbati concocted,
and of Atropos Belladonna, deadly maiden collected by graves in the shade of the night.

By those four who had danced these five the crowd were annointed (well those who so chose)

then we annointed ourselves, penetrating vulvas and sphincters
to supposit the ointment to fly via brooms made of willow-wrapped birch and for priestesses stems of hazel,
my own staff of Ash Anda branch of mighty Yggdrasil,
all collected by night from nearby Epping Forest.

Oh Odin, Woden, with one eye turned outward to the world of form and living breath,
the other turnedinward to the dreaming trance of the Dwale, the shamanic death...
The flying herbs were exchanged for the skeleton of a toad tattooed on the base of the spine of a toadwitch nath of Oxford.

Though their effect in the doses distributed were mild twas enough to blur boundaries already hazy but I swear by my Eye which looks Outward
that the Sabbat was here not just there.

Not necessarily innocent bystanders who happenchanced to have their faces sat on in the dance did not complain (in liquid tones so muffled),
for Bauwdr in libidinous splendour that night reigned.

Towards the dawn of a night so long as with broomstick I passed on some unguent to a fellow lodge-member visiting from Edinburgh,
he tethered tight to a diagonal cross of steel with threads of silk,
I whispered in his ear that I should see him at the Sabbat.

This caused me then to wonder, where were we already?
For was this not the Sabbat enfleshed?
Only the very nature of the Witches Sabbat itself could explain or encrypt this vital paradox
-for Samhain is the time of inversion, when everything is it's Notself in the throes of holy perversion.
Thus here was there, where was when, and we had arrived at the Sabbat before we left,
and with man upon man, woman to woman, the rites of right and left were cast,
even as lux is nox and first to the last...

We literally *earthed* the double current (AC DC) with electrified swords tipped with pennae of peacock and raven.

That the Sabbat be made manifest be a heresy upon the pale and lacklustre face of moral suppression;
In blessed celebration of human as beast,
common decency was shoved up the holy pink arse of the Great Black Goat of the Woods!

Malkuth gets more interesting all the time.
The phantasms of my Yesodian dreamscapes coagulate in variations which surprise and delight me daily.
Tortuous too is the world of form in its resoluteness,
...but I can feel it, and yet this too is temporal and as Time tolls its leaden bells the faeries laugh light and beckon once again...

Gwynn Ap Nudd, Dark Horned Lord of Divine Madness and Mirth,
Slay me to a new and wondrous birth
Oh cruel and carefree faery king,
Take us beneath the barrow mound
By cloven hoof and raven's wing

Oh Rainbow Bridge carry me to the home I never left,
I am bereft of reason in Dionysos's grip, as I slip
and fall I rise to fly and the universe is mine to
ride ride ride on the wild hunt... ... ...

Jai Kali Ma!