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The Sunday Sermon:
Jan. 19th, 2014 01:04 pm
Jan. 19th, 2014
The Envoys of her Whims Came Before Me
Jan. 19th, 2014 03:12 pmI had been warned that her demands were as impossible as her depravities were insatiable. That to come before her bed as a lover one must first be wrapped in the lupine hide of a skinned werewolf while offering her a necklace of bejeweled vampire fangs. How from there one could not decline to do a bump of what she insisted was granulated unicorn horn off the Ouija Board she had tattooed across a defoliated Mons Pubis. One was to behold with hungry dread the arsenal of sex toys at her disposal , each the envy of assassins and surrealists alike, each wielded with a Samurai's grace. There was a blood stain soaked into her mattress that resembled the Virgin Mary and the midnight pilgrims who prayed before it report that it whispers the sweetest of heresies. Her tangled sheets perfumed in the tears of the heartbroken and the sweat of the satisfied. Her pillows stuffed with the feathers of winged serpents and shredded love letters. Her ceiling painted with the faces of all her conquests, so that they may stare down in anguish or ecstasy upon those who will soon join their ranks above.
None of these dispatches had failed to reach my ear and well noted were the fresh scars these prophets of a (Sa)Dadaistic Scarlet Woman displayed proud. Even more curious were their insistence that she had my name on her lips of late, lips red as the blood of angels that parted for a tongue fluent in the language of devils. I had been summoned to her amorous throne, to quench a curiosity instilled by reading my drunken verses from the shore leaf dawn.
I told her envoys that I was flattered but these words that intrigued their mistress could only be reached by a navigation of accident and beyond my ability to map to her desire.
On behalf of their mistress they replied with that old Freudian adage about there being no such thing as accidents.
Nor are there any free lunches, I countered, and the price I pay to keep the muses fed come at a cost that humbles all the treasures you have laid at the feet of your mistress. My work is for all to delight in, for all to judge or ignore as they see fit. It is not a mask to be removed and kept as a trophy. It is not a shadow that can be stripped away to reveal naked brilliance or tragedy. It is not a songbird that can be kept in gilded cage or a falcon to be perched on the gauntlet of command.
It is simply a voice that sings with ten throats dancing across the keyboard blind and only by following their tracks across the snow white page can I reach that bliss beyond even the pleasures their mistress can deliver.
None of these dispatches had failed to reach my ear and well noted were the fresh scars these prophets of a (Sa)Dadaistic Scarlet Woman displayed proud. Even more curious were their insistence that she had my name on her lips of late, lips red as the blood of angels that parted for a tongue fluent in the language of devils. I had been summoned to her amorous throne, to quench a curiosity instilled by reading my drunken verses from the shore leaf dawn.
I told her envoys that I was flattered but these words that intrigued their mistress could only be reached by a navigation of accident and beyond my ability to map to her desire.
On behalf of their mistress they replied with that old Freudian adage about there being no such thing as accidents.
Nor are there any free lunches, I countered, and the price I pay to keep the muses fed come at a cost that humbles all the treasures you have laid at the feet of your mistress. My work is for all to delight in, for all to judge or ignore as they see fit. It is not a mask to be removed and kept as a trophy. It is not a shadow that can be stripped away to reveal naked brilliance or tragedy. It is not a songbird that can be kept in gilded cage or a falcon to be perched on the gauntlet of command.
It is simply a voice that sings with ten throats dancing across the keyboard blind and only by following their tracks across the snow white page can I reach that bliss beyond even the pleasures their mistress can deliver.
