February 14th, 2010

this is not a love song/ venus in whips and furs

true love is death. death of self. i can't say i believe in the romantic sort of love today is supposed to be about. i am not sure it's possible, forever doesn't mean forever and i just do not trust humans as the ones who seem most cruel to me are the very ones who claim to love me. the only one i can obliterate myself for is goddess and i'd do it nary a second thought and never a regret.

love on this plane is however the very stuff of regret and remorse and passion gone terribly cold or terribly wrong." fear is here to stay/ love is here for a visit".

in the words of high priestess joni mitchell ," sometimes i think love is just mythical". which it was to the ancients. the sufis, the troubadours of provence were goddess worshipers whose songs and poems , now pegged as odes of love to human females, are actually songs of praise to a female deity, the one unto herself who really can destroy with just a glance. even the most graphic and raunchy examples of these poems are about sexual union with Her- something moderns raised amid the sterile neuter death cult of christianity are both horrified by and strangely drawn to, deprived as they are from a healthy accepting view of human sexuality and of the female principle.

oh, sure their god dies but bereft of the sexual union with the one goddess that would signify the real reason for his death and its transformational message about sex , dying, and life. how can sex be filthy, dirty and unnatural if it creates the miracle of life and death which are both one and the same? with the female clumsily hacked from their mythology, reduced to an object of scorn hatred and under the yolk of males, there can be no understanding of life, death, purpose.the problem with love is that western religious outlooks have damned it to a hierarchical construct of dominance and submission amongst humans, not submission to goddess. centuries of the denigration of the female have created the mess we wallow in, wondering, forlornly, in stupid pop songs why love never ever seems to work and how possession and obsession have destroyed our abilities to truly love one another and not create human wrecks of our children.

the romans lost touch too in the same way. st. valentine's day had emerged from the frantic roman catholic goal of eliminating its pagan rival and roots. people just wouldn't and still won't give up the ghost of their still thumping matriarchal hearts. lupercalia involved sacrificing goats and dogs, making coats out the the former, whips out of the skins of the later and racing down the palatine hill whipping people . unassociated with a specific temple or god, they were at a loss to explain the ritual but getting a taste of those whips was suppose to ensure fertility and was an act of purification. originally it's believed more orgiastic rites were involved as it marked the beginning of spring. in all likelihood it was an import from greece related to pan. you fuck like bunnies in spring to ensure not only human fertility but the fertility of the fields. it's sex as agricultural congress to ensure plenty. romantic love is the construct of people with too much time on their hands and no connection to the earth, the physical representation of yo' momma. sacrifice reminds us we are all the sacrificial lambs. we're all covered in the blood of the mother at birth and return to her at her behest in death. it's not for no reason the term for orgasm and ejaculation in french translates as ' little death'.have sex with the goddess and it is time to die. we're born into the grave.

she is re-creation.

there was never any saint valentine and the ones created never had anything to do with romantic love. february the month gets it's name from lupercalia which was specifically associated with fertility.they even stretched it a bit more as the church is want to do in creating its own self contained but highly derivative mythology to throw the whip lashing purification in there. because of mosaic laws designed to desecrate the female role in birth,one was considered unclean after giving birth to a male. 40 days after the birth of her son, mary went to the temple as proscribed and brought a sacrifice of a lamb so the priest could ' purify' her.sometimes this is called candlemas, the purification of the virgin, celebrated feb.3 in the latin rite.

it's really quite depraved.the mother of all things considered dirty and redeemable by mere mortal males who should be begging her forgiveness. it's goddess envy really the whole lot of it.it's the most sinful of things i can imagine, this codified misogyny- it's the base of serial murders, baby rapers and death cults like islam. such a degraded hateful outlook on the very creation of life is the seed of all evil, the expressway to our hearts of darkness, our ' sentinel of misery'.

what we call prostitution was part of sacred rites carried out by priestesses and lay persons alike for healing and mystical union not just getting off. indeed orgiastic rites were religious ceremonies not a form of personal indulgence on a saturday night with a snoot full. but because sexuality was rendered as sinful, the female filthy and demon possessed, whores are whores-despised, abused, often murdered, the targets of the vast amount of free flowing male rage at females and their sexuality and at their own desires and twisted, selfish evil obsession with controlling others when the key to heaven is really in controlling oneself by giving it all away to the holy whores who serve only one master, their mistress, goddess. because cult prostitution was central to many pagan religions -including such stalwart patriarchal cults as early judaism-they were so thoroughly and completely vilified by the judeo-christian priests that although today we consider ourselves sexually enlightened we still trudge in the pit of vicious misogyny and blinding self hatred where sexuality is still intrinsically linked to a vast sink hole of negativity to the point that we've eroticized the negative over the positive which fails to get us hard because it's too, too 'vanilla'. love is so boring, union too commonplace. our culture is one of necrophiliacs where desecration serves a higher more interesting and evolved purpose than love. we've done it to empty, pointless death not to enlightened transformation and rebirth.

i know i have all the wrong fuses and splices. and i'm tired of being lashed by the sparking, arcing loose wires. i so wish i could believe in love.