 |
||||
|
||||
|
|
Prayer for Us
|
World Kiss
You can only be in mad loving lust with ALL of the Goddess, not some of Her. Now start kissing. As far as the Goddess is concerned, there is no such thing as heterosexuality. No such thing as homosexuality or bisexuality, for that matter. Even bestiality does not go far enough. Nor does the flower boinking of the Essenes, or the sky copulations of the Illuminati or the sacred fisting of the Mediterranean Sea by the ancient Sapphic cults. As far as the Goddess is concerned, there is only "Pantheosexuality" -- also known as Polymorphous Perverse Omnidirectional Goddess Diddling. All else is a lie, an obscene limitation. You can only be in mad loving lust with ALL of the Goddess, not some of Her. To be in love with some but not all of Her is to be in love with none of Her. With this in mind, I invite you to perform the ritual of the World Kiss. To participate, you need only apply your tender loving lips and tongues to every quivering portion of the Goddess's outrageous joy body: oak trees, computers, salamanders, clouds,toasters, spiders,paintings in museums, crayons, mountains,people -- everything. With each smooch, keep uppermost in your emotions a mood of blasphemous reverence and horny compassion. And be mindful that it's not enough simply to perform the outer gesture; you must aim to have a heart-on in each of your seven chakras. To get you in the mood and to demonstrate the technique, I will now narrate a live broadcast of my freaky consort Suzanne and I performing the World Kiss in our home. Note that as we proceed, we will address every portion of the Goddess's outrageous joy body with intimate "I-Thou" tenderness. We begin with you, O precious altar in our living room. Smacking our warm lips with a rat-a-tat of boisterous kisses, we prove our love for you again and again. Please accept the gift of our adoration, dear violet candle and pomegranate and bouquet of chrysanthemums. Amethyst wand, gold coin and toy rubber unicorn, come hither: We wish to anoint you, too, with our hot, sweet breaths. Venus of Willendorf figurine, whooping crane feather, silver bowl filled with black dirt from the garden: As we bestow on you our moist butterfly jiggles, we channel the pulse of our righteous kundalini into every luscious atom of your sexy creaturehood. But our Pantheosexual yearning does not end here. Onward! Toward new frontiers of kissability! Who or what offers itself up next to our osculatory worship? Wok hanging from the kitchen wall, we pay homage to you with flickering licks. Chipped ceramic mug and unopened package of plastic garbage bags, we smother you with our blazing snuggles. Box of Cheerios and wooden dish rack, feel the fluttering graze of our undying reverence. More endorphins! More sweetness! On we glide to the bedroom! Though we've had erotic epiphanies while watching ruby-throated hummingbirds feeding from plum flowers, we've never enjoyed the shivering throb we feel now as we initiate communion with the magenta carpet below us. Swaddling you with our grateful arms, dear carpet, we spill our miraculous passion deep into your weave, deep into the lambs that sacrificed their wool for you to live, deep into the hands that assembled you. Our lips reach everywhere -- to the doorknob and the wall sockets and the light switch and the dead fly on the windowsill. On all of you, we bestow our ripest blessings. And to the air itself, we send this message with our sloppy kisses: Since our particles and your particles were ripped asunder at the big bang, we have fantasized obsessively of the rapturous reunion in which we now exult. WE ARE THEE AND THEE ARE WE! ****** This essay originally appeared on Salon.com, Aug. 30, 2000. Reprinted with permission. Copyright Rob Brezsny, 2000. |
|||
© 1995-2009 -- Rob Brezsny. All rights reserved
|
||||