Formless Ones


Black Lava of the Qulipoth

“Curiously enough it is in rabbinical lore that we obtain fleeting yet vivid glimpses of a dark world of anti-matter; adumbrations, it would seem, of those we are today being made uncomfortably aware and which we are glimpsing through an ever widening rift in the veil created by a new sorcery, a new gnosis, known as nuclear science.”

– Kenneth Grant, Nightside of Eden

Beyond Daath, the Abyss of Kabbala, lie the anti-cosmic dimensions of the Qulipoth. Among the most terrifying is Tohu, the realm of the Formless Ones, depicted here as soul devouring black lava.

Acrylic on cork

NJH 2018

For sale – email for further details;



Magick, Occult

The word ‘sigil’ is a contraction of signature, in magical terms the signature of a spirit. The essential principle is universal to all magical traditions, ancient and modern. Examples include the vevĕ of Voudon, the lamen of Goetia, bind-runes of the galdrbok, or the combined elemental letters forming the sigils of planetary astrology. The term has also been used, since its popularisation via the works of Austin Osman Spare, to a method of spellcasting by means of self hypnotism and subliminal suggestion. Spare himself also described the method in spiritist terms, suggesting their use in the summoning of Thought Forms. Despite certain modern charlatans attempting to claim sigil magick is something ‘new’, it has clearly formed an integral part of magick since the very dawn of humanity.

Some of the spells in this book include elements of ‘sigil magick’; for example, the name of the client or target is combined with a statement of intent, combining letters of the written sentence into an ideograph;


A sigil might also be arrived at through abstracted pictographs;


The sigil is first inscribed then focused upon during magical trance, during which the subconscious is most impressionable. This might be achieved by many means, from quiescent meditation to (as is popular with many Chaos magicians) frantic masturbation. In the magic of my ancestors, who were of East Anglia, sigils were formed from the earlier alphabet of the runes – the vernacular alphabet of their own time – and charged by feeding them blood from a cut – usually, but not always, the spell caster’s own.

The purpose of this abstracted symbol is similar to that of a subliminal, such as those commonly employed in advertising, or any kind of hypnotic suggestion. As such its actions upon the subconscious will be more powerful if we ‘actively forget’ the original statement of intent, so that we no longer consciously recognise its meaning. This task of ‘forgetting’ takes some clever mental trickery – whenever you accidentally remember, tell yourself aloud, “Now I have forgotten and it is not important.”

Then think about something else.

Basic sigil magick can produce startling results, even on its own. The principle may be expressed in countless ways and applied without much study.


The sigils of four elements combine to form the planetary seals of astrology.

Similarly, consider how the ‘letters’ of the elements combine to create the sigils of the 7 astrological powers commonly invoked in the Western tradition.

The same principles are applied in the grimoires of traditional sorcery, which are filled with ornate designs for all manner of purposes. In The Goetia, the sigils – or signatures – of demons provide the means by which they are summoned and bound. The following sigil is for the demon Baal, taking his name from the Babylonian and meaning “he who possesses”;


The lamen of Baal as given in The Goetia

Consider also how the vevé of Papa Legba is composed of various symbols, such as the crossroads, his walking stick, and the palm leaves representing the poto mitan – the ‘Tree of Life’ in Haitian Voudon;


Vevé of Voudon Papa Legba

The sigils of spirits, such as those above, also provide the keys to their summoning. The most powerful rituals are those of conjuring and possession. Their sigils may also be used to empower simpler spells.

As well as being consciously created, or discovered through research, sigils may also be drawn directly from the collective unconscious. I tend to use automatic drawing for this purpose, usually asking my subconscious directly and aloud to provide one. A few I use regularly first came to me through dreams.

ATUA; The Spirit Box

Art, Magick, Sorcery

The ‘spirit box’ is a method of spirit communication common to the African mysteries, most commonly called an Atua, the name by which it is known in the hoodoo of Louisiana. The hoodoo Atua tradition is said to have originated because white men would not permit ancestor worship so more secretive methods had to be found. More overt forms of the same magick can be found throughout the AfroAsian diaspora, just as they can in what remains of European spiritism; I have come across the same method in the notes of a cunning man who referred to it as a Wizard’s Box. In essence the spirit box holds much in common with the ‘Worry Dolls’ of Dutch tradition, although the spiritism of this simple child’s toy – a box of dolls kept beside the bed you tell you worries to before going to sleep – are perhaps forgotten.

The hoodoo Atua is, in essence, a box containing offerings to a specific ancestor, who is ritually called upon and invited to enter into and ‘dwell’ within the box. An Atua to contact your dead Grandmother, for example, might contain her photograph, the perfume she used to wear, items she was fond of, and perhaps thoughtful gifts such as her favourite chocolate walnut whips. Candles are burned on the box’s lid during like a miniature altar, and it is kept under the bed to facilitate ‘dream incubation’. Letters to the spirit world can be left in the box and left there overnight.

A spirit box might contain gifts to the Invisibles, or their Shadows, just as any altar or fetishé might ‘seat’ the spirits. I made the above example for The Master at the Crossroads to look like a grimoire of black magick, then filled it with the appropriate ingredients, similarly to when an initiate of Voudon seals a ‘part’ of Legba in the cowrie eyed concrete heads often sold in botanicas. The crossed trident symbol on its ‘cover’ is known in Macumba and Makaya – two branches on the left side of the Voudon family tree – as a symbol of Exu-Elegbara, and is also known in the old Germanic magick – still practised in some parts of northern Europe – as a symbol of Odin; two faces of the ‘red ray’ of the archetypes, the trickster/initiator at the crossroads, and in both cases also identified after ‘conversion’ with Satan, the Lord of the Underworld; a masque he is said to still wear simply because he finds in funny. It seems an appropriate symbol to apply my own sorcery; a commonality between my own almost eradicated ancestral tradition and the still nourished spiritism of Africa, and so like much of the ‘mash-up culture’ here in Bristol, a city built on the slave trade. Spells and petite pacts, signed with blood, are placed inside the box until fulfilled on both sides.

The REAL Secret of the Holy Guardian Angel

Gnostic, Magick

The most famous of magical oils is probably The Oil of Abramelin, the recipe for which is given in The Book of Abramelin the Mage by Abraham Worms. It holds a crucial place in the summoning of the Holy Guardian Angel – called otherwise the Genius or Higher Self.

The origins of the Oil is in ancient Kabalist magick; it is described also in the Book of Exodus, where it is identified as the Holy Oil of Tanakh. The ingredients given in the original Hebrew include oils obtained from a number of magical plants, most notably qunubu, otherwise transliterated as kunubu; cannabis, mistranslated by the Greeks, and in every translation after, as camphor – perhaps simply because their theologians knew little of magical herb lore and took a guess. When God appeared to Moses as a burning bush and gave him the recipe, he was instructed to mix up around a gallon of this consciousness altering oil. That’s right. Moses was a serious stoner. No wonder he saw God, or that Abramelin – applying the same formula – met his Holy Guardian Angel.

Few, if any, O.T.O. Thelemites claiming to have successfully invoked their Angel even know the correct recipe for the oil required in the ritual – and nor did Crowley; his recipe of 10 Kabbala corresponded ingredients might smell nice, but it won’t even get you stoned. As with most of Crowley’s claims to being party to ‘occult secrets’ it appears he was simply taking a guess and stringing his followers along. This is ironic considering what a dope fiend he was, and that his HGA allegedly dictated a whole book about itself but didn’t think it relevant to correct him on this crucial aspect of its own ritual.


(Cannabis) Oil of Abramelin

Olive oil base

Myrrh oil

Galangal oil

Cannabis oil

Add the ingredients to the carrier and blend to make a potent aromatic mix. Use to anoint spells and as an incense; thrown upon heated charcoal to give off great billowing clouds of aromatic cannabis; the mystery of the Shekinah.

(Excerpt from Nathaniel’s Little Book of Spells – currently in preparation).

The Cutting Up of William Burroughs

Art, Fiction

THE BODY-BAG is brought into the mortuary and the corpse of William Burroughs placed on the slab beneath glaring strip lights. The room is decrepit and less than sterile. The tiled walls are cracked and there is the stinging aroma of toxic chemicals and human decay. The air conditioning is no equal to the sweltering Interzone weather and every surface is crawling with fat blue flies.

Voices are muffled, not so much out of respect for the dead author’s work as from a strange dread. The mortuary is like one vast memento mori and what is about to happen to William Burroughs reminds us all that the body is a temple. Like any temple it can be looted, its precious treasures scattered, its secrets and mysteries exposed.

Dr. Benway enters the room wearing surgical gloves, a white pathologist’s gown and the ceremonial mask of Anubis. He addresses the paying audience.

“Ladies, gentlemen, critics.”

It is an indication that he is about to begin.

A microphone hangs within a few feet of the slab. Benway turns to the technician.

“Is this thing on, Kiki?”

Seth gives a grinning thumbs up. He is a gleeful little man with copper bright red hair, familiar enough with Dr. Benway to have prepared everything for the arrival of the deceased.

Photographers snap away, recording for posterity each stage of the process. Having stripped the corpse naked Benway points to a few areas meriting particular close-ups.

“Bruises consistent with heroin use, veins collapsed. No surprises there. Our subject was a self confessed addict and boy lover, not just a homosexual – take note – but a paedophile with a taste for Arab boys as young as 9 or 10. His one attempt at a heteronormative relationship ended with him shooting his wife in the head. All this suggests his addiction may have masked deep self loathing and was perhaps an attempt to control, if not completely deaden, his socially unacceptable sexual desires and attendant guilt.”

Benway removes a small sheet concealing what little remains of Burrough’s modesty. The penis has all but rotted away whilst his inflated testicles stretch their purple and black sack as tight and as large as party balloons.

Gasps from the audience. Someone throws up into their sick-bag, provided at the door upon entry.

“His balls weren’t that big when he was alive, in case you were wondering. That’s what we call dropsie, decaying fluids pooling beneath the skin. You see here where he’s been going into the groin, turning the whole area black. Onset of gangrene. Had probably been impotent for decades but that doesn’t mean he was wasn’t sexually active. Or passive, for that matter. I’m now rolling over the body.”

William Burrough’s lifeless buttocks hang like dirty grey dishcloths, their cold blue tinged skin striped with taut white scars.

“Clear signs of flagellation, possibly self administered. We shall now examine the anus.”

Benway parts the cheeks to reveal an orifice big enough to put your foot in, if it is a large foot and you really want to put it there. Just as you think his descriptive monologue could not get any worse, it does. You try to concentrate on what he is saying but it is not easy. Something about friction wounds, relentless dispassionate penetration and reverse engineered alien technology.

Someone in the audience faints.

Dr. Benway produces a crumpled Camel cigarette. He pokes it through the mouth hole of his mask and lights it with an army issue zipper

Measurements, a physical description – six feet one inch tall, grey hair, face like a turtle, that kind of thing. Fingernail scrapings and clippings are disposed of in polythene bags. The body is washed from head to foot in a concoction with a heady smell like spiced wine, after which Dr. Benway gives the body another cursory examination. Finding nothing new he gets down to the serious business we all bought tickets for.

A deep incision is made down the front of the torso. Ash from Benway’s cigarette topples into the gaping wound. Blood samples are taken and handed to Seth, who places them neatly beside a row of empty glass jars. More samples are taken; urine, faeces, stomach contents, liver, body hair (including eyebrows, eyelashes, pubic) and tissue.

Benway makes an aside to the audience.

“What we can see, the external evidence, is often not as important as what we can’t see. The tiny secrets revealed only by a microscope or chemical test.”

The process is long, drawn out. There is impatient muttering among the audience.

“Not boring you, am I?”

He reaches his hands into the corpse’s chest and forces open the ribs with an audible crack.

You close your eyes but the room swirls all the same. It is not so much the sight of the examination as the accompanying sounds. Tearing of flesh, like a butcher yanking meat from a flank. Bubbling liquids. The soft rasping of the cutting tools. Not just the sounds but the smell, too. The unmistakable aroma of raw meat, clinging to the nostrils, filling the lungs, catching at the back of the throat and clinging there, the tang in the mouth you can actually taste.

The abdominal organs – stomach, liver, intestines – are all removed and taken to a clean slab. Kiki washes them down with more spiced wine before transporting them to their waiting jars. As he washes down the cadaver’s hollowed out insides Dr. Benway presents the subject’s heart to the audience, waving it aloft in one hand whilst prodding it with the tip of his scalpel. It is around the size of a clenched fist, tubes flapping like pieces of rubber.

“The average human heart weighs in at around 11ozs, although of course it may feel subjectively heavier or lighter depending on our emotions. We see here significant hardening of external tissues, whilst these valves here, dealing with the flow of empathy and love for other human beings, have completely sealed over. Burroughs himself insisted that nobody ever loved him during his life apart from his cats.”

Benway returns the heart to its original place within the hollowed out cavity of Burrough’s chest.

Electric buzzing and the scraping of metal against bone as Benway’s circular saw cuts around Burrough’s skull. The job is soon done, but not before several more of the audience have fainted.

He takes hold of the top of the head with both hands and pulls. The whole room holds its breath.

There is a sickening shclupping sound.

The cranium in Benway’s hands looks like a bad toupee of thin grey hair. He places it upside down on the slab and stubs out his Camel in the empty bone bowl. He next turns his attention to the open head, digging his fingers into either side. There is a faint popping as he removes the brain. He holds it triumphantly aloft before the audience. It looks like a giant walnut made of grey and white jelly.

“Ladies, gentlemen. The moment you’ve all been waiting for. William Burrough’s soft machine.”

Gasps, vomiting, more fainting.

“Same size overall as any normal brain, weighing in at around 3lbs, despite having been pickled with every drug known to mankind. The hippocampus here at the back is shrivelled to almost nothing. It is often enlarged in sexual deviants but he put a lot of stress on himself, mentally and physically. The hippocampus also plays a role in immune system function. When its efficiency is compromised, so too is the immune system.”

He flips the brain into the air, spinning it like a basketball before catching it again.

“Also significant reduction in this area of the frontal cortex dealing with ethics, responsibility and conscience. Proportional increase in these right brain areas dealing with creativity, imagination and hustling. We can also see a huge capacity for delusion and self deceit. Again, no surprise considering his obsessions with magick and his well documented involvement with kooky secret societies like the Illuminates of Thanateros.”

Seth proffers a large lidless jar of clear fluid. Benway dumps the brain with asplosh.

The cranium is returned to its rightful place and the whole body covered with natron salt. After that it is stuffed with linen, giving it a fuller look, and wrapped in bandages.

Dr. Benway concludes with a sonorous recitation from the Egyptian Book of the Dead. Something about the scales of Maat, whatever that is, and the weighing of hearts against a feather. It is long, boring and ludicrously pretentious. Everyone is glad when it is over.

The room is left in silent introspection. Each of us present is made of the same stuff as William Burroughs and now we stand, momentarily stripped of our individual personalities. We are all bodies, animals, collections of viscera. The only real difference between any of us and Burroughs is that our hearts still pump blood. But one day soon all of our hearts will have stopped and that will be the end of it, save for a visit to the mortuary and, if our hearts are not too heavy, our journey to the Western Lands.


Excerpt from my fictional work, KHAOS AT TRINITY ROAD, published under the pen name of Nathan Mortlock.

Books & Stuff – A General Update


When I wrote in the introduction to The Neuronomicon, that it is the first genuine advance in the technology of magick in 100 years, and possibly the most powerful grimoire available in the West without government clearance, I was not exaggerating or spinning hyperbole. It is a book of extremely specialist knowledge, representing nearly 35 years of dedicated research; and even most of my enemies recognize this is an area I am talented in, by both nature and nurture due to my background and upbringing. I have learned directly from practitioners and initiates of many ‘paths’, as well as qualified mind-scientists, psychic researchers, even professionals and citizens involved in what appear to all involved to be funded / protected ‘secret programs’ programs, such as those concerning psychic abilities (Project Stargate, Project Jedi eyc.), but also mind control (hypnotism, NLP, ‘brainwashing’, ritual abuse etc.) and modern slavery (such as are widely reported by survivors of MK Ultra, Project Monarch etc.).

The magick – psionics, whatever you want to call it – in this book works. I have several correspondents that have found it valuable, many of which were already ‘advanced practitioners’ of modern western magick, but also including urban ‘street sorcerers’ who make their wages through their magick (rather than paperback books and the ‘Pagan’ lecture circuit), and a hereditary fetishe priest of Nigeria. A few copies have also gone straight from my hand to ‘black magicians’ (in the original and true sense of the term) I know from living and working in Bristol, and a qualified neuroscientist specialising in the study (as in – academically published) of moments of realisation / illumination.

As such the quality of The Neuronomicon is far above and beyond the recycled occultism of the last ten decades. Indeed, much of my research either builds significantly upon, or otherwise completely negates, much of what has been repeated in other works. Without requiring too deep a knowledge of obscure symbol systems it is nevertheless an advanced work; as one reviewer put it, “Truly a grimoire for the 21st century.”

A book such as this should not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands – that is to say, the hands of someone who does not appreciate its value; lacking in wisdom and so unable to recognise it in others. To say the knowledge within The Neuronomicon can be dangerous is not an empty boast. The many overt warnings I give in the opening pages are all sincere. Its implications could turn everything you believe in on its head as permanently as Lovecraft’s fictional grimoire; truths that are not only deeply disturbing, but that you will wish you did not know. Truths that will mean you will never be able to return to the world you once thought you knew.

This is why a large number of people have accepted the price I ask for my work as fair. Indeed, I sold the first ‘over the internet’ copy within half an hour of making the book available – as well as having several advance orders. In these terms alone it is already more successful than Witcha, either in its first hand bound edition or its paperback re-issue from Mandrake. I am deeply touched that people care about my work and hope to continue to write – which means I have to be able to afford to. Those that support my work recognize the financial investment is necessary if my work is to continue being made available. Even with sales of The Neuronomicon I barely reach minimum wage for most months – and no I do not receive ‘benefits’, despite my scoliosis, and despite what certain Chaos trolls have been telling their dupes. I am supremely grateful to all those whose support has allowed my work to continue so far – to those who leant their ‘names’ and to those who paid to read my work, to buy my paintings, or for any other of my creations, and indeed my ‘magick’.

It is also the case that some people recognise a good investment when they see one – several of my works have rocketed in value once taken off the market. As Mick Norris (may his ancestors be kind in the weighing of his soul) put it, the The Neuronomicon is like a masterful painting – just because most people can’t sell their drawings, or because cheap prints are available elsewhere, does not mean high end art dealers are ripping people off.

It is therefore a deep betrayal that Amazon have recently forced down the value of The Neuronomicon; not just of myself, but also of those who have invested in my work by paying its asking price. I have never felt easy about dealing with Amazon, having read about the treatment of their work force, and in a way this is another – if indirect – example of just that same bad treatment. All I can do to protect the investment of those who support my work at this point is promise not to sign any copies of The Neuronomicon that were not bought straight from my hand. The invitation remains open to those with signed copies to contact me, regardless of whether they are working through the materials, or if they intend to align themselves with the ‘open sorcery’ of ICΘN. I also promise not to sell signed copies for less than the original asking price of £150.

While maintaining that this work is worth the price people are paying, I’m not at all supportive of the ‘financial elitism’ displayed by certain quarters of the occult scene – as a general rule I believe information should be freely available to everyone. To this end I’ll be bringing out another paperback reference some time later this year; Nathaniel’s Little Book of Spells. This is a simple reference book that will be of value to ‘newbies’ and advanced magicians alike. There are some pictures, too. As most of my readers appreciate, the relationship between magick and art is central to my personal practice; the knowledge of symbolism meaning – sometimes, at least – that more really can be said with a picture than with a thousand words. Some extremely raw – and unillustrated – early drafts were distributed among ICΘN agents, friends, and a few randoms over Facebook, and – despite still needing editing for grammar and typos etc. – reactions were all good. Since then it has grown considerably in size, providing what I hope is a fresh approach to ‘teaching’, as well as a handy pocketbook to inspire even the advanced magician with tactics for dealing with a wide variety of situations. It’ll be ready sometime around August / September, costing somewhere around £5.

After that I’ll returning to editing Accidental Antichrist. Much to my surprise and gratitude, many people have emailed me asking when this will be available. Please be patient – this is the story of my life until the age of 16, and I only want to tell it once. All the writing is done, but for tidying up a few sentences here and there, but the editing is arduous. I also intend to make it available as an audio-book, since one or two people have requested it.

With regards to unfinished writing projects, I continue to gather materials for a book dealing purely with the cul-de-sac sex cult of Colin Batley, along with its implications not just for ‘occultists’ but for society as a whole. Although uniquely placed to write this book – having been very close to several of those involved in the cult – it is still very raw and painful for me. This is why I have had to take long breaks and continue with less important projects – nothing I write is as important as the truths I shall be discussing here but I have to ‘come up for air’ at least occasionally. If I had lost my entire family in a car accident people would be more understanding of my grief – and I would say losing them all to a child abusing cult is far more painful; it taints every memory you ever had of them.

I shall also continue to update this blog whenever I find the time. This will probably mostly be with more ‘one take’ videos unless I also find time for editing – or someone volunteers to help. The information they contain is too important not to share. Please do join us in ridding our modern occult scene of charlatans and abusers – from he Chaos trolls and Crowley heads like Batley through to sleazy Wiccans like the Frosts, Peter Petrauske, Peter Pracownick, or my ex-stepfather Adrian Brynn-Evans. Leave them to prosper, and the world will be entirely justified in scorning the ‘occult community’. – all the worst things said about us will all be true. These people are not just in our way but in yours. They are ruining things for everybody. Get rid of them and a whole lot more talent will spring up – far more worthy of your support.

Just saying..

To obtain a copy of The Neuronomicon, or to contact me for any reason, I am available at: