  
                         The Anathema of Stos

                            by Stokastikos

     I'm sick of magicians who have harrowed the million spheres but don't
have the price of a pint actually at the moment.
     I'm sick of astrologers with arms in splints who can tell you exactly 
why it happened.
     I'm sick of darkside Satanic wimps who foul their clothes if you raise 
so much as a fist to them.
     I'm sick of Tantric sex goddesses who cannot hold down a steady 
boyfriend.
     I'm sick of Thelemites who have found their true will in a bottle or a 
syringe.
     I'm sick of Great Beasts whose three successive star goddesses all 
walked out on them.
     I'm sick of shamans who knos less about the wildwood than urban boy 
scouts.
     I'm sick of Chaoists with dull day jobs and two-point-four children.
     I'm sick of people who are so spiritual that being an arsehole on the 
material plane is perfectly justifiable.
     I'm sick of occult theories that are just longwinded excuses for 
inability.
     I'm sick of witches whose sacred tradition comes third-hand from the 
Malleus Maleficarum.     
     I'm sick of half-baked ideas transferred from one book to another with 
no intervening thought.
     I'm sick of wizards who spend more on incense than clothes - and smell 
like it.
     I'm sick of crystals that don't affect anything except ley lines which 
are not ther and dolphins who are not listening.
     I'm sick of clairvoyants who cannot charge a thousand quid a go.
     I'm sick of the way occult books always get stolen from libraries.
     I'm sick of the deification of personalities that fooled hardly anyone 
in the flesh.
     I'm sick of psychic fairs - ten different futures at a tenner a time.
     I'm sick of books published for no other reason than the sales figures 
of the previous ones.
     I'm sick of those who build self-importance with the fantasy-bricks of 
paranoia.
     I'm sick of white lightists who beam love and harmony at imaginary evils 
but wouldn't give a blind beggar a quid 'cos it's his karma.
     I'm sick of occult beliefs which act not even as crutches for the feeble 
but as broken legs for the incapable.

                         
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