Ressources pour ce cycle

Voici un très bon documentaire sur l'enfer en 3 parties :

partie 1 : les enfers antiques




Partie 2 : les enfers chrétiens




Partie 3 : les enfers modernes

L'enfer de Dante (et plus généralement la divine comédie) occupera certainement une grande place dans ce cycle .

Voici la page wiki sur Dante :

https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dante_Alighieri

Un petit documentaire de présentation :




Une petite synthèse des 9 cercles :




Pour aller plus loin, le texte de l'enfer intégral :

https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/La_Divine_Com%C3%A9die_(Lamennais_1863)/Texte_entier/L%E2%80%99Enfer

la version audio (intégral) :

Voici une magnifique symphonie : la Dante Symphony de Liszt :




Une étude en 4 parties sur la divine comédie sur France Culture :

https://www.franceculture.fr/emissions/series/la-divine-comedie-de-dante

Je vous mets les parôles et le clip d'une magnifique chanson gnostique de Marylin Manson, membre de l'Eglise du Diable de Anton Lavey.

Je la passe souvent en partie, mais on ne fait malheureusement pas assez attention au texte, qui semble une illustration parfaite de Kult (et c'est normal après tout, une fois qu'on a regardé dans l'inversus, toute la réalité finit par se dédoubler comme dans une monstrueux "mise en abîme")

Fight song

Nothing suffocates you more than
The passing of everyday human events
Isolation is the oxygen mask you make
Your children breath into survive
But I'm not a slave to a god
That doesn't exist
And I'm not a slave to a world
That doesn't give a shit
And when we were good
You just closed your eyes
So when we are bad
We'll scar your minds
Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!
Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!
You'll never grow up to be a big-rock-star
Celebrated-victim-of-your-fame
They'll just cut our wrists like
Cheap coupons and say that death
Was on sale today
And when we were good
You just closed your eyes
So when we are bad
We'll scar your minds
But I'm not a slave to a god
That doesn't exist
And I'm not a slave to a world
That doesn't give a shit
The death of one is a tragedy
The death of one is a tragedy
The death of one is a tragedy
The death of millions is just a statistic
But I'm not a slave to a god
That doesn't exist
And I'm not a slave to a world
That doesn't give a shit
But I'm not a slave to a god
That doesn't exist
And I'm not a slave to a world
That doesn't give a shit
Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!
Fight! Fight! Fight!

Sans trop vouloir parasiter ce sujet de ressources, je voudrais quand même dire bravo à Olivier pour non seulement toutes les ressources précédentes apportées, mais aussi l'angle de vue introduit avec le message ci-dessus en pointant la chanson et ses paroles.

Je dois avouer que c'est une porte que j'ai empruntée pour apporter une autre dimension sur la folie ou la sagesse de Zak sur le monde dans lequel ils sont.

Sans se couple de créateurs suédois, nous ne ferions pas cette campagne...

Assez mystérieusement, ils citent Runequest, Eclipse Phase, Mage l'ascension (entre autres) parmi leurs jeux préférés : il n' y a pas de coïncidence

Aleister Crowley tombe dans le domaine public cette année en 2019.

Pour fêter cela, voici un long poème de l'une des inspirations majeures de la magie rituelle de Kult (la chaomancie) :

The Wizard Way

Velvet soft the night-star glowed
Over the untrodden road,
Through the giant glades of yew
Where its ray fell light as dew
Lighting up the shimmering veil
Maiden pure and aery frail
That the spiders wove to hide
Blushes of the sylvan bride
Earth, that trembled with delight
At the male caress of Night.

Velvet soft the wizard trod
To the Sabbath of his God.
With his naked feet he made
Starry blossoms in the glade,
Softly, softly, as he went
To the sombre sacrament,
Stealthy stepping to the tryst
In his gown of amethyst.

Earlier yet his soul had come
To the Hill of Martyrdom,
Where the charred and crooked stake
Like a black envenomed snake
By the hangman's hands is thrust
Through the wet and writhing dust,
Never black and never dried
Heart's blood of a suicide.

He had plucked the hazel rod
From the rude and goatish god,
Even as the curved moon's waning ray
Stolen from the King of Day.
He had learnt the elvish sign;
Given the Token of the Nine:
Once to rave, and once to revel,
Once to bow before the devil,
Once to swing the thurible,
Once to kiss the goat of hell,
Once to dance the aspen spring,
Once to croak, and once to sing,
Once to oil the savoury thighs
Of the witch with sea-green eyes
With the unguents magical.
Oh the honey and the gall
Of that black enchanter's lips
As he croons to the eclipse
Mingling that most puissant spell
Of the giant gods of hell
With the four ingredients
Of the evil elements;
Ambergris from golden spar,
Musk of ox from Mongol jar,
Civet from a box of jade,
Mixed with fat of many a maid
Slain by the inchauntments cold
Of the witches wild and old.

He had crucified a toad
In the basilisk abode,
Muttering the Runes averse
Mad with many a mocking curse.

He had traced the serpent sigil
In his ghastly virgin vigil.
Sursum cor! the elfin hill,
Where the wind blows deadly chill
From the world that wails beneath
Death's black throat and lipless teeth.
There he had stood - his bosom bare -
Tracing Life upon the Air
With the crook and with the flail
Lashing forward on the gale,
Till its blade that wavereth
Like the flickering of Death
Sank before his subtle fence
To the starless sea of sense.

Now at last the man is come
Haply to his halidom.
Surely as he waves his rod
In a circle on the sod
Springs the emerald chaste and clean
From the duller paler green.
Surely in the circle millions
Of immaculate pavilions
Flash upon the trembling turf
Like the sea-stars in the surf -
Millions of bejewelled tents
For the warrior sacraments.
Vaster, vaster, vaster, vaster,
Grows the stature of the master;
All the ringed encampment vies
With the infinite galaxies.
In the midst a cubic stone
With the Devil set thereon;
Hath a lamb's virginal throat;
Hath the body of a stoat;
Hath the buttocks of a goat;
Hath the sanguine face and rod
Of a goddess and a god!

Spell by spell and pace by pace!
Mystic flashes swing and trace
Velvet soft the sigils stepped
By the silver-starred adept.
Back and front, and to and fro,
Soul and body sway and flow
In vertiginous caresses
To imponderable recesses,
Till at last the spell is woven,
And the faery veil is cloven
That was Sequence, Space, and Stress
Of the soul-sick consciousness.

'Give thy body to the beasts!
Give thy spirit to the priests!
Break in twain the hazel rod
On the virgin lips of God!
Tear the Rosy Cross asunder!
Shatter the black bolt of thunder!
Suck the swart ensanguine kiss
Of the resolute abyss! '
Wonder-weft the wizard heard
This intolerable word.
Smote the blasting hazel rod
On the scarlet lips of God;
Trampled Cross and rosy core;
Brake the thunder-tool of Thor;
Meek and holy acolyte
Of the priestly hells of spite,
Sleek and shameless catamite
Of the beasts that prowl the night!

Like a star that streams from heaven
Through the virgin airs light-riven,
From the lift there shot and fell
An admirable miracle.
Carved minute and clean, a key
Of purest lapis-lazuli
More blue than the blind sky that aches
(Wreathed with the stars, her torturing snakes) ,
For the dead god's kiss that never wakes;
Shot with golden specks of fire
Like a virgin with desire.
Look, the levers! fern-frail fronds
Of fantastic diamonds,
Glimmering with ethereal azure
In each exquisite embrasure.
On the shaft the letters laced,
As if dryads lunar-chaste
With the satyrs were embraced,
Spelled the secret of the key:
Sic pervenias. And he
Went his wizard way, inweaving
Dreams of things beyond believing.

When he will, the weary world
Of the senses closely curled
Like a serpent round his heart
Shakes herself and stands apart.
So the heart's blood flames, expanding,
Strenuous, urgent, and commanding;
And the key unlocks the door
Where his love lives evermore.

She is of the faery blood;
All smaragdine flows its flood.
Glowing in the amber sky
To ensorcelled porphyry
She hath eyes of glittering flake
Like a cold grey water-snake.
She hath naked breasts of amber
Jetting wine in her bed-chamber,
Whereof whoso stoops and drinks
Rees the riddle of the Sphinx.

She hath naked limbs of amber
Whereupon her children clamber.
She hath five navels rosy-red
From the five wounds of God that bled;
Each wound that mothered her still bleeding,
And on that blood her babes are feeding.
Oh! like a rose-winged pelican
She hath bred blessed babes to Pan!
Oh! like a lion-hued nightingale
She hath torn her breast on thorns to avail
The barren rose-tree to renew
Her life with that disastrous dew,
Building the rose o' the world alight
With music out of the pale moonlight!
O She is like the river of blood
That broke from the lips of the bastard god,
When he saw the sacred mother smile
On the ibis that flew up the foam of Nile
Bearing the limbs unblessed, unborn,
That the lurking beast of Nile had torn!

So (for the world is weary) I
These dreadful souls of sense lay by.
I sacrifice these impure shoon
To the cold ray of the waning moon.
I take the forked hazel staff,
And the rose of no terrene graff,
And the lamp of no olive oil
With heart's blood that alone may boil.
With naked breast and feet unshod
I follow the wizard way to God.

Wherever he leads my foot shall follow;
Over the height, into the hollow,
Up to the caves of pure cold breath,
Down to the deeps of foul hot death,
Across the seas, through the fires,
Past the palace of desires;
Where he will, whether he will or no,
If I go, I care not whither I go.

For in me is the taint of the faery blood.
Fast, fast its emerald flood
Leaps within me, violent rude
Like a bestial faun's beatitude.
In me the faery blood runs hard:
My sires were a druid, a devil, a bard,
A beast, a wizard, a snake and a satyr;
For - as my mother said - what does it matter?
She was a fay, pure of the faery;
Queen Morgan's daughter by an aery
Demon that came to Orkney once
To pay the Beetle his orisons.

So, it is I that writhe with the twitch
Of the faery blood, and the wizard itch
To attain a matter one may not utter
Rather than sink in the greasy splutter
Of Britons munching their bread and butter;
Ailing boys and coarse-grained girls
Grown to sloppy women and brutal churls.
So, I am off with staff in hand
To the endless light of the nameless land.

Darkness spreads its sombre streams,
Blotting out the elfin dreams.
I might haply be afraid,
Were it not the Feather-maid
Leads me softly by the hand,
Whispers me to understand.
Now (when through the world of weeping
Light at last starrily creeping
Steals upon my babe-new sight,
Light - O light that is not light!)
On my mouth the lips of her
Like a stone on my sepulchre
Seal my speech with ecstasy,
Till a babe is born of me
That is silent more than I;
For its inarticulate cry
Hushes as its mouth is pressed
To the pearl, her honey breast;
While its breath divinely ripples
The rose-petals of her nipples,
And the jetted milk he laps
From the soft delicious paps,
Sweeter than the bee-sweet showers
In the chalice of the flowers,
More intoxicating than
All the purple grapes of Pan.

Ah! my proper lips are stilled.
Only, all the world is filled
With the Echo, that drips over
Like the honey from the clover.
Passion, penitence, and pain
Seek their mother's womb again,
And are born the triple treasure,
Peace and purity and pleasure.

- Hush, my child, and come aloft
Where the stars are velvet soft!


Aleister Crowley

Dans mes pérégrinations youtubesques, je suis tombé sur une chaine historyteachers, qui ne fait pas qu'enseigner l'Histoire, mais le fait en parodiant des chansons pop music, modernes avec Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, Madonna, ou moins modernes avec les Beatles, ABBA, etc...

Même si le principe n'est pas nouveau pour intéresser les jeunes à l'Histoire par des moyens détournés, la chaine compte quand même plus de 50 vidéos d' "anecdotes chantées".

Bon, ce sont deux professeurs américains (Hawaii), donc ça reste en anglais comme les chansons originales, mais le texte anglais est écrit dans les vidéos et ça reste bien intéressant.

Bien sûr, c'est mieux quand on connait les chansons parodiées, mais avec les exemples des artistes susmentionnés, certaines sont très connues.

De même, chansons pop soumises aux goûts et aux couleurs de chacun, mais les anecdotes restent quand même normalement factuellement historiques.

J'ai hésité pour écrire ce message plutôt en section "Hors jeux de rôles", mais en rapport avec le cycle actuel, on trouve quand même la Divine Comédie, mais aussi la Révolution Française qui aurait collé avec le cycle de Kult en Révolution, mais on en a quand même les séquelles dans notre cycle, et puis même aussi Catherine II de Russie que le groupe a "rencontrée".

salut à tous

quelques morceaux choisis sur la mythologie irlandaise. C'est à la fois très fouillis et très lacunaire en francais. Ce fouillis est du aux différentes couches de christianisation qui se superposent et finissent par rendre le tout compliqué. Voici quelques liens en francais pour avoir une idée mais pour creuser vaut mieux passer sur la partie anglaise.

https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mythologie_celtique_irlandaise#Dieux

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manann%C3%A1n_mac_Lir

https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sidh

https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%8Eles_au_nord_du_Monde

voila un reportage assez exhaustif sur la ndrangheta très interessant

.

Cette petite video m'a fait penser à Rory :

Quelques soubassements philosophiques de cette campagne :