I am Her-Speech-is-Fire.
I am She-loves-Solitude.
I am Death-in-his-Face-Loud-Screamer.
Bring me the Mutilated One.33
HORUS
(1–4 HORIZONTALS) THE ALL-LORD: Who prospers the Two Lands; the Two Ladies: [—] beloved of Ptah, l.p.h.!, who is called by the great name: [Ta-te]nen South-of-his-Wall, Lord of Eternity. [Joiner] of Upper and Lower Egypt.——who created the Nine Gods in the Temple of Souls.34
Hail to thee, the All-Lord, from fist fucked-forth—
himself, and all life gifted,
to the Nine, to all the gods and their kas,
through his heart, through his tongue,
the Ennead, the Nine,
through his semen,
through his fingers,
born of his fist,
through his teeth, through his lips,
jism issued forth from his own mouth and
the mouth of his Anus.35
Re-Atum, this one comes to thee, child of thy seed, I, a spirit beyond destruction, return to thee, sown from thy fist through the first fist-twins, God Shu, Goddess Tefnut, through the cunt-twins their children, earth and sky, God Geb, Goddess Nut. I, child of thy seed, come to thee—may thou cross the sky united with the dark! may thou rise in lightland, forever where thou shinest!
I come, a spirit indestructible, second-born son after Osiris, and Isis, his fuck-twin, my sister. With Seth’s own sister-wife Nephthys we are the Nine. Sky breaks! stars dim! earth quakes! planets still!—to see Seth rise in his power. A god—I—who lives upon the flesh of his fathers, who feeds upon the flesh of his mothers. Seth’s glory is in lightland, like Atum my begetter. Through thy jism am I not bull-of-heaven, who rages in thy heart and feeds on the heart of every god, who eats their entrails and swallows their seed when they come, their bodies full of magic, from the Isle of Fire?
But if thou wishest me to die, I will die. And if thou wouldst that Seth live, Seth shall live.
I am master of cunning, whose own mother knows not Seth’s secret name. I did all that majesty commands in bringing murder to my brother Osiris, Foremost-of-the-Westerners—life, prosperity and health! I acted as his beloved brother, feasted the return of His-heart-is-weary. Osiris had travelled far to bring knowing to the Asiatics, to take learning to the barbarians in their stinking. In welcome and hospitality did Seth build for him then a fine casket, a sarcophagus of ebon and ironwood, worked with gold and lapis lazuli, in mother of pearl rimmed. Much feasting and beer, many toasts of his safe return. Seth offered then to the all-gathered-there the prize of the sarcophagus of Life in Eternity, awarded to him-who-lies-within-most-easily. All tried, none fit, much laughter, until His-heart-is-weary lay down in it. Good fit, good plan—swift my followers pushed down the lid, sealed it with lead! No laughter, no sound, no word from inside. Much consternation. No word from inside. MUCH CONSTERNATION. Seth clothed my brother’s sarcophagus in its regalia, decked the breast of the casket with greenstone and turquoise, clear gems. Seth was pure of hand in decking the sarcophagus, like a priest of clean fingering. I made my allies to take up the neshmet bark, led the procession, champion of my brother, repulsed our attackers. Much death, much blood, sorrow. I cut down who would stop the launching of the Bark-truly-risen-is-the-Lord-of-Abydos. Seth hacked a path to the Nile shore, shielded the sarcophagus through the PANIC and consternation on the land. Then Seth set the casket in the Great-Bark-of-the-Nile. It bore his beauty, straight to the bottom. Cleansed is he who is cleansed in the Field of Rushes! Seth brought rejoicing to my followers in the eastern deserts, much joy also to the western deserts.
Though he was many-eyed, he saw not Seth’s coming. Though my brother was the stronger I loosened the knot of his life—yet did not Seth leave intact all his beauty? Am I not great-in-cunning, loving-of-family?36
Seth will enter into the judgements with Him-whose-name-is-hidden, ever on the day of the slaying of the elder.
Seth is Lord-who-knots-the-cord that binds the sacrifice. Seth is who eats men. I feed on the lungs of the wise, I like to live on hearts and their magic.
But if thou sayest Seth should die, I will die. Yet if thou willst that I live, Seth shall not die.
Isis sought him everywhere. Isis, daughter of Nut and Geb, our parents. Isis, fuck-twin of Osiris, Seth’s sister. She searched, left the throne, searched, left the Black Land to return to the Asiatics. Had I not been given dominion over the foreigners?—yet she too followed him to go among them! Had I not been given dominion over the Red Lands as had Osiris over the Black? To him the fertile, to Seth the barren. Isis found him in Byblos, the sarcophagus grown into a big green tree on the shore. Our sister brought him back in her moon bark to the delta, to the marshes. But there she hid Seth’s precious sarcophagus not so well. It called to Seth from the rushes in the voice of my brother. I tore into the corpse like soft bread, shredded it in fourteen pieces. Smashed bones and marrow, seized the liver, pulled the long member from between the limbs. For is Seth not He-who-rends? am I not earth-tearer, life-in-disintegration? I fed up my ally Sobek, fed the fuck-member of my brother into the long gullet. Seth choked the crocodile on the dong-of-his-brother. For was I not then Seth-the-ungoverned, Seth-in-riot, Seth-in-bloodlust?
And was I not only acting as one with Seth’s nature? Not fist-born, not cunt-born—but wild-fruit-torn-from-the-side-of-his-mother!
Deep in the Black earth and farthest corners of the Red Lands I buried the Thirteen—at night, when the black boar had hunted down the moon. For the sky-dwellers are to serve Seth—I eat their magic, swallow their spirits, and the pots are scraped for me with their women’s legs. Seth seizes the hearts of the gods, as Khons, slayer of lords. I cut their throats, pulling up their bowels through the mouths of their anus. Like snakes from burrows. Seth has eaten the Red, swallowed the Green, licked clean the coils of the Red with abhorrence, yet felt delight in their magics in my gullet. The dignities of Seth will never be taken from me—I HAVE SWALLOWED THE KNOWLEDGE OF EVERY GOD.
But if thou willst my death, I will die. And if thou sayest that Seth should live, Seth will have life.
I went to console the widow of my brother, daughter of our mother-who-bears-the-scars-of-Seth-in-her-side. Seth brought the news of the defiling to where Isis sat on the throne. I sang.
O One, the sister without peer,
upright neck, shining breast,
heavy thighs, narrow waist,
the V of thy cunt
like a brace of wild white geese
trumpeting.
Spread wide those lips,
for the trumpeter,
split wide thy shores
for the bull of the Nile,
for the big reed-pipe of thy brother
not thy twin.
Joy has he whom she embraces.
He is like the first of men!
… My sister is angry.
No more will Seth cover his sister.
The gates to her mansion have swung shut.
The small door is bolted,
So Seth cannot enter.
Why did our sister send one dear brother’s ka to sit in Orion?—while that day depriving Seth of the seat of Sirius, brightest among the stars.
After this, much sickness, heavy limbs. Well did she know how to cast the noose on Seth with her hair. Great-in-magic, she captured me with her eye, changed herself into a jackal bitch. Seth ran after her, lost seed on the sand. She caught it, took my potency. She mocked at Seth, branded me with her seal ring, made Seth’s jism call out to him from her palm. Hail, fuck-brother, hail! Three weeks lying on my back in sadness not rising, while she sought out the hidden members of Osiris. Three weeks to the sound of Isis, weeping not for Seth. And Seth’s own fuck-sister Nephthys helped her. My own consort also, the river-mare Taweret, helped THEM. Is Seth not copious-of-seed? Why did they covet His-heart-is-weary, why did my seed find in their moist gardens only barren ground?37
Seth is lord-of-thick-jism! who takes wives
from their husbands!—whenever Seth wishes, as his heart wills!
Wherever Seth had buried the gobbets of his brother, our sister, finding them, raised a big temple. Thirteen gateposts to hedge Seth in, thirteen pyramids to fence Seth out. Then, great was Isis in magic. As a vulture she swallowed the Thirteen, each in turn, and in the fullness of the moon, vomited our beloved brother whole onto the Nile bank. Yet the dong-of-Osiris she found nowhere, nor even Taweret rooting in the slime of the Nile found it. The fatness of Sobek was not a clue to her. Out of Nile-bank clay, the great-in-magic rolled in her palms a thick member, wetted and made it to bind with the sallow yolk of Seth’s own stale spittle. With the life-in-her-mouth made it slick, stiffened it to enter her. As a vulture she hovered over our beloved brother, on the perch of his member.
She had opened his eyes, she had opened his mouth. Now from his testicles she brought forth life-from-death—a half-dead-one who would contend with SETH for the White Crown. Within ONE MONTH was he born. Truly, who was spreader-of-disorder if not our sister? Confusion was Seth’s nature not hers. It is SHE who had broken the Tablets of Destiny, cheated Death—such a thing has never been done—for love?
But if thou wouldst have me die, Seth will die. And if thou wishest that Seth should not die, I will have life.
Isis hid the infant-half-dead from Seth in the marshes. Nephthys and Taweret watched over them. The three, my rightful consorts, nursed it, guarded it from my allies in the swamps. Isis taught it much guile, took it to the Western Lands—more witcheries—to learn war-craft and sciences from our brother, the many-eyed, the weary-of-heart. The freak survived, the dead-thing was raised up—red-in-his-eyes, snot-in-his-mouth. Foul-of-breath, frail-of-limb, who-sucks-his-thumb. Horus the child.
It was thus he came with his mother to petition thee at the head of the Tribunal of the Nine, that he be given the White Crown. And then Thoth said it was a million times right. Horus should have it. I answered thee, to the All-Lord—life, prosperity and health!—the White Crown should be stripped from the stripling and thrown into the water, far from the Sun! True, that the Baba of Seth spoke then harshly against the All-Lord for even considering their petition. But is not unreason Seth’s nature? True, that in unreason the Baba loud-shrieked from the small mouth of Seth’s member that the shrine of the All-Lord was empty, UNTENDED, bringing unto thee much sorrow. All day the All-Lord lay down on his back in his hut. Until the Golden One thy daughter came to show thee her cunt, bringing thee much laughter. What daughter comes to Seth in my sorrow to show me her cunt? What daughter comes with joy and laughter? Is Seth not thus made covetous? Am I not loving-of-family-yet-barren?
Seth insulted, gave offence, but did not Isis THREATEN the Ennead?—to write Neith to bring down the sky! if the half-dead’s petition was not heard. And then the Ennead placated her, very craven, the Nine made ready to hear Horus. Only then Seth threatened them. To the Ennead, to the council Seth said:
Hail to ye, my kin gods!
I know ye, your names are well known to me.
Am I not then greatest-in-potency?
By Him-whose-names-are-hidden,
it is given me to ride foremost
in the Bark of Millions,
in the Sun-Bark as it rises,
to fend off the Apophis serpent
where it lifts its bowels
at noon from the marshes—
to drive off the Apep dragon38
with my copper sceptre.
For none of ye can do this.
Not one can lift it.
I made them an oath to kill them, a god a day—slay each one with this my copper sceptre of 4,500 pounds, spit them like bullocks from the mouths of their anus to the mouths of their face. I showed to them the world come after their deaths—when bread shall be called for with blood and all shall laugh with a sick man’s laugh and fast for death. When man turns his back on the killing of a friend, a son is a foe, a brother an enemy. When a man robs his own twin and kills his own father. When words are like fire issuing from the heart, and its words on the tongue cannot be borne. When the Sun rises but none can distinguish its shadow. Then Seth would strip their god-shadows from them, leave them naked, no-shadowed in a desert wind.
For is Seth not the red wind and Lone Star of Twilight? Am I not of those who rising are risen, who lasting, last?
And did they not listen? I refused to contend in court with Isis, for she was great in magic, greater in guile. Seth spoke movingly: Is the White Crown to be awarded to my little brother Horus while Seth the Elder is alive?
But she had changed herself again, into the figure of a buxom wench, unseen by the others, where we were eating bread together in laughter. I alone saw her and approached, spoke to her from behind a tree, of her beauty of a like unknown to this land. She begged a promise of assistance, telling Seth she was the wife of a cow-herd, but he died, and so her son began to tend the herd, when a foreigner came to live in her stable, threatened to beat the boy, take his father’s cows, evict him from his father’s house. Did not buxom-in-guile ask Seth’s protection from the demon? Anxious to release my seed, very full of it, Seth’s jism asked through me, very indignant: Is it while the son of a man is still alive that his cattle are to be taken by strangers? Here my dear sister revealed herself, and as a kite flew shrieking up to the crown of an acacia. Calling down to Seth: It is your own MOUTH that has said it, Seth’s own deceit has judged you! What comeback have you?
I went before the All-Lord to tell of my deception, for thou hast been always my father, and wert well disposed toward Seth. Was Seth not created lascivious, am I not foolishness-in-rut? She is MOST guileful!
The Ennead would not award the White Crown directly to Seth but set the contenders a test. Three months Horus and Seth were sent as hippos to remain at the bottom of the Nile. AGAIN defying the Ennead, Isis cast her harpoon down into the river after us, seeking out the flesh of Seth but biting instead into the freakish one. Horus shrieked up: Mother beg the harpoon to let go. She did, it did agree. She cast it again—into Seth. But my cries were piteous: Could Isis prefer a harpoon of copper to her own dear brother? She was moved to tears, for Seth is tenderness-in-danger. The daughter of our mother Nut called to the harpoon of copper: See, it is Isis’s own brother Seth, son of the Sky, and the Darkling. Let him go, Isis said, and the harpoon agreed.
Horus waxed furious, his-face-of-a-panther—and did he not cut off his own mother’s head with a cleaver of 16 deben-weight in his fist? Thus she was made a statue of flint, headless. Only then he desisted.
Later I found him at a mountain oasis, asleep under a tree. And did Seth not then richly avenge the beheading of the daughter of my mother? As a red storm in the desert Seth seized him, threw the child down on its back. With the chisel of my loins, Seth fucked out his eyes, raped hard the freak with flame and the orbits ran fire. But was his mother satisfied with her brother Seth, was there gratitude? She sent the Golden One with spells to find the child in the desert, his eyes weeping pus. Hathor of Gold caught a gazelle and milked it, and rinsed Seth’s own dear poison from the child’s eyes and restored them. Then great-in-magic, Isis, great-ingrate, went before the Ennead to bring complaint: See the poor fatherless child left weeping in the desert. But had the half-dead-one so much as met his father? and is not Seth bereft equally of a brother?—and I knew him.
The Nine enjoined us to cease our contendings: Act with civility. Upon whom the greater hardship, this? Was it not upon Seth?—was not Horus weak at Seth’s mercy, and civility an insult to my own true nature?
But Seth did make up with his nephew, in welcome and hospitality made him a feast, as once was done for the father. So for the son did Seth prepare him a place of rest, and after feasting and beer bade him lie down with his uncle. The voice of Seth said then to the ear of Horus:
How buxom thy buttocks seem to Seth!
How broad are these thighs!
The mouth of Horus said: Beware, Uncle, I shall tell of this to my mother! When the mou
th had shut, its lips stopped, Seth took the shape of a black pig—and performed the labour of a male upon the child with the tusk of my loins. But his mother interfered even with Seth’s civilities! having taught the half-dead how to deceive me, making of his fist a mouth between his buttocks. My dear nephew became as a bitch to Seth and seized the spume of my testicles in his hand. Again had great-in-magic CHEATED Seth, made my seed to fall on barren ground.
She shrieked to see Seth’s potency in the child’s hand, with a copper knife cut off the hand and cast it into the Nile water, never once letting the Sun see, speaking spells against my potency, against the venom in Seth’s jism. Then the mother of Seth’s nephew gave the half-dead a new hand, chanting:
Remember Horus, your hands belong to you. Your right hand is Shu, your left hand is Tefnut—they are the children of Ra. Your belly belongs to you, Horus—the children of Horus, who are in it, receive not the poison of the scorpion. Your strength belongs to you, Horus—the strength of Seth prevails not against you. Your phallus belongs to you….
With sweet ointment she chafed it to a stiffness. With fist-love she drew the semen down from its lips, with the life in her mouth collected it, transferred it to a pot, many times until it was filled. Then the daughter of our mother Sky, wife of Seth’s brother, mother of my dear nephew, went to Seth’s own hut, inciting there Seth’s gardener to a betrayal.
Isis said: What food does Seth eat from this garden? Only the lettuce, the food of his potency. Each leaf she smeared then from the pot until the lettuce gleamed with the Horus-jism, taking strength from the Sun. Seth ate that night of the lettuce, a great salad, and in the morning went to the Ennead to tell of Seth’s labours upon the half-dead-one, the freak: I have planted my seed high up in the bowels of Horus! Seth has defiled his sovereignty! The Nine hawked up their scorn, spat it as bile into the face of the child. But my dear nephews mother had instructed him to deny this, saying: Horus has defiled the sovereignty of his uncle Seth! Horus has planted well and deep in the pleats of his intestines. Horus said then: Let my uncles semen be called, that we may hear whence it answers.
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