Die geheimen Tageb├╝cher von einer verderbten Existenz

Behind these gates you will hear my thoughts screaming like nerves under the sun and feel my emotion laughing to the empty ether.
Welcome Dear Wanderer, make yourself at home.
The road is long and tortuous and I hope you enjoy yourself.

Fraternally Yours,
Poison Creeper

Friday, 30 December 2011

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] be E. E. Cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Monday, 26 December 2011

Song Of Solomon

Song of Solomon

Chapter 1

  1. The song of songs, which is Solomon's.
  2. Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.
  3. Because of the savour of thy good ointments thy name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins love thee.
  4. Draw me, we will run after thee: the king hath brought me into his chambers: we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will remember thy love more than wine: the upright love thee.
  5. I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.
  6. Look not upon me, because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me: my mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept.
  7. Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon: for why should I be as one that turneth aside by the flocks of thy companions?
  8. If thou know not, O thou fairest among women, go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock, and feed thy kids beside the shepherds' tents.
  9. I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots.
  10. Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold.
  11. We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver.
  12. While the king sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof.
  13. A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts.
  14. My beloved is unto me as a cluster of camphire in the vineyards of Engedi.
  15. Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes.
  16. Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: also our bed is green.
  17. The beams of our house are cedar, and our rafters of fir.

Chapter 2

  1. I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys.
  2. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.
  3. As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
  4. He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.
  5. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love.
  6. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me.
  7. I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.
  8. The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.
  9. My beloved is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing himself through the lattice.
  10. My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
  11. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
  12. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;
  13. The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
  14. O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely.
  15. Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes.
  16. My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies.
  17. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.

Chapter 3

  1. By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.
  2. I will rise now, and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad ways I will seek him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.
  3. The watchmen that go about the city found me: to whom I said, Saw ye him whom my soul loveth?
  4. It was but a little that I passed from them, but I found him whom my soul loveth: I held him, and would not let him go, until I had brought him into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me.
  5. I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, by the roes, and by the hinds of the field, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, till he please.
  6. Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant?
  7. Behold his bed, which is Solomon's; threescore valiant men are about it, of the valiant of Israel.
  8. They all hold swords, being expert in war: every man hath his sword upon his thigh because of fear in the night.
  9. King Solomon made himself a chariot of the wood of Lebanon.
  10. He made the pillars thereof of silver, the bottom thereof of gold, the covering of it of purple, the midst thereof being paved with love, for the daughters of Jerusalem.
  11. Go forth, O ye daughters of Zion, and behold king Solomon with the crown wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals, and in the day of the gladness of his heart.

Chapter 4

  1. Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.
  2. Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them.
  3. Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely: thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks.
  4. Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.
  5. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.
  6. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.
  7. Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.
  8. Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, with me from Lebanon: look from the top of Amana, from the top of Shenir and Hermon, from the lions' dens, from the mountains of the leopards.
  9. Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck.
  10. How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is thy love than wine! and the smell of thine ointments than all spices!
  11. Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
  12. A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
  13. Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits; camphire, with spikenard,
  14. Spikenard and saffron; calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices:
  15. A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from Lebanon.
  16. Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.

Chapter 5

  1. I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.
  2. I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.
  3. I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?
  4. My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him.
  5. I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.
  6. I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer.
  7. The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.
  8. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.
  9. What is thy beloved more than another beloved, O thou fairest among women? what is thy beloved more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?
  10. My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand.
  11. His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven.
  12. His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set.
  13. His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh.
  14. His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires.
  15. His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.
  16. His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

Chapter 6

  1. Whither is thy beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? whither is thy beloved turned aside? that we may seek him with thee.
  2. My beloved is gone down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens, and to gather lilies.
  3. I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine: he feedeth among the lilies.
  4. Thou art beautiful, O my love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with banners.
  5. Turn away thine eyes from me, for they have overcome me: thy hair is as a flock of goats that appear from Gilead.
  6. Thy teeth are as a flock of sheep which go up from the washing, whereof every one beareth twins, and there is not one barren among them.
  7. As a piece of a pomegranate are thy temples within thy locks.
  8. There are threescore queens, and fourscore concubines, and virgins without number.
  9. My dove, my undefiled is but one; she is the only one of her mother, she is the choice one of her that bare her. The daughters saw her, and blessed her; yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.
  10. Who is she that looketh forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners?
  11. I went down into the garden of nuts to see the fruits of the valley, and to see whether the vine flourished and the pomegranates budded.
  12. Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the chariots of Amminadib.
  13. Return, return, O Shulamite; return, return, that we may look upon thee. What will ye see in the Shulamite? As it were the company of two armies.

Chapter 7

  1. How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince's daughter! the joints of thy thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman.
  2. Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor: thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies.
  3. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins.
  4. Thy neck is as a tower of ivory; thine eyes like the fishpools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bathrabbim: thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon which looketh toward Damascus.
  5. Thine head upon thee is like Carmel, and the hair of thine head like purple; the king is held in the galleries.
  6. How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!
  7. This thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes.
  8. I said, I will go up to the palm tree, I will take hold of the boughs thereof: now also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine, and the smell of thy nose like apples;
  9. And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak.
  10. I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me.
  11. Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in the villages.
  12. Let us get up early to the vineyards; let us see if the vine flourish, whether the tender grape appear, and the pomegranates bud forth: there will I give thee my loves.
  13. The mandrakes give a smell, and at our gates are all manner of pleasant fruits, new and old, which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved.

Chapter 8

  1. O that thou wert as my brother, that sucked the breasts of my mother! when I should find thee without, I would kiss thee; yea, I should not be despised.
  2. I would lead thee, and bring thee into my mother's house, who would instruct me: I would cause thee to drink of spiced wine of the juice of my pomegranate.
  3. His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me.
  4. I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that ye stir not up, nor awake my love, until he please.
  5. Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved? I raised thee up under the apple tree: there thy mother brought thee forth: there she brought thee forth that bare thee.
  6. Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.
  7. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned.
  8. We have a little sister, and she hath no breasts: what shall we do for our sister in the day when she shall be spoken for?
  9. If she be a wall, we will build upon her a palace of silver: and if she be a door, we will inclose her with boards of cedar.
  10. I am a wall, and my breasts like towers: then was I in his eyes as one that found favour.
  11. Solomon had a vineyard at Baalhamon; he let out the vineyard unto keepers; every one for the fruit thereof was to bring a thousand pieces of silver.
  12. My vineyard, which is mine, is before me: thou, O Solomon, must have a thousand, and those that keep the fruit thereof two hundred.
  13. Thou that dwellest in the gardens, the companions hearken to thy voice: cause me to hear it.
  14. Make haste, my beloved, and be thou like to a roe or to a young hart upon the mountains of spices.


A thunder Perfect Mind












Sacred Prostitution:
The Whore and the Holy One
,
a paper by Elizabeth Cunningham
prepared for The New Seminary

I was sent forth from the power,
and I have come to those who reflect upon me,
and I have been found among those who seek after me,
Look upon me, you who reflect upon me,
and you hearers, hear me.
You who are waiting for me, take me to yourselves
And do not banish me from your sight…

For I am the first and the last
I am the honored one and the scorned one,
I am the whore and the holy one…

I am the silence that is incomprehensible
and the idea whose remembrance is frequent.
I am the voice whose sound is manifold
and the word whose appearance is multiple.
I am the utterance of my name…

Excerpts from "The Thunder, Perfect Mind",
THE NAG HAMMADI LIBRARY.

So opens "The Thunder, Perfect Mind." This short tractate is part of the Nag Hammadi Library, a collection of mostly Gnostic writings from the third century CE, discovered in Egypt in 1945. Scholar George W. MacRae calls "The Thunder, Perfect Mind" a revelation discourse. It is the proclamation of the great female I-Am. Throughout the piece this powerful voice utters apparent paradoxes in what seems more like a hymn or a poem than a discourse. In his introduction, MacRae comments that "in terms of religious tradition "The Thunder, Perfect Mind" is difficult to classify as it presents no distinctly Jewish, Gnostic, or Christian themes."

I believe "The Thunder, Perfect Mind" may represent or contain fragments of a religious tradition older than Judaism, far older than the classical period of Greek civilization, certainly older than Christianity and Gnosticism, a tradition that was no longer intact at the time "The Thunder, Perfect Mind" was written down. MacRae compares the tone of "The Thunder, Perfect Mind" to the Isis aretalogies, but he notes that "The Thunder, Perfect Mind" differs from the aretalogies in its insistent use of paradox and contradiction.

I invite you to consider this possibility: If the voice of "The Thunder, Perfect Mind" echoes the voices of Isis, Ishtar and Inanna, goddesses who were once all powerful, who contained all paradox in a magnificent wholeness, then at the time that this voice lifted itself up she had to speak in paradox. The voice of "The Thunder, Perfect Mind" is the voice of a divine female power asserting her importance to a people who were already deeply ambivalent about her and their attraction to her, whose ancestors had been torn for centuries between honoring and scorning her. Even more, this female I-am knows that she is pleading with a people on the verge of forgetting who she is, becoming deaf to her wisdom, silencing her. Some 1,800 years have passed since the writing of "The Thunder, Perfect Mind", and our own time. We are only just beginning to hear again "this voice whose sound is manifold."

Once upon a time, so long ago that we only have fragments of Sumerain and Babylonian tablets, myths and our own dreams to tell us this story, the assertion "I am the whore and the holy one" would not have been a paradox at all. In ancient Sumer and Babylon, temple priestess/prostitutes of the goddess received the god-bearing stranger. Their sexual union was, for both participants, communion with the divine. In many ancient cultures, in order for the land to prosper and for a king to have legitimacy in the eyes of the people, he had to celebrate the hieros gamos (sacred marriage) with a priestess who represented the goddess. In Sumer, the people sang ecstatic, erotic hymns to encourage and celebrate the marriage of the shepherd-king Dumuzi with the goddess Inanna. Here’s a passage from the Sacred Marriage Rite translated by Samuel Kramer from the Gudea Cylinders written in Sumer around 3,000 BCE.

The King goes with lifted head to the holy lap
He goes with lifted head to the holy lap of Inanna,
The King coming with lifted head,
Coming to my queen with lifted head
Embraces the Hierdoule.

According to Jungian analyst Nancy Qualls-Corbett, author of The Sacred Prostitute, the term hierdoule literally means sacred servant. It refers specifically to the priestess whose functions included sexual rites.

Over time the enactment of the king’s symbolic marriage with the goddess probably became mere form and finally obsolete as Babylon and other societies became more stratified and war-like. Then military might, instead of mystical union with the goddess, conferred legitimacy on a ruler. In Babylon there was also a hierarchy of prostitutes from the high-ranking temple priestesses, the entu and naditu, to the tavern or street whore called harimtu. It’s worth noting that in Babylonian religious texts, the goddess Ishtar identifies herself with the lower ranks of the street prostitutes, saying "When I sit in the entrance of a tavern, I, Ishtar, am a loving harimtu." In another Babylonian text Ishtar proclaims, "A prostitute compassionate am I."

Isis began her long, illustrious life as a goddess in Egypt around 2,500 BCE. Worship of Isis spread all over the Mediterranean world and beyond. There was even a temple to Isis on the Thames River. In Rome, though she was regarded by the ruling class as an exotic (and suspect) Oriental import, she was worshipped well into Christian times. Like Jesus, Isis was a universal and merciful savior who paid no attention to social class or lineage. Like the Virgin Mary, she was a divine and devoted mother. She was also beloved by prostitutes. According to the wealth of lore surrounding her, during her long search for the body of her lover/brother Osiris, she was a prostitute in Tyre for ten years, perhaps a temple prostitute. She eventually found Osiris’ coffin in a pillar of a temple to Ashstarte in Byblos. Isis’s own temples were often located near brothels and had the reputation of being a meeting place for prostitutes.

Isis, like Inanna and Ishtar, was all in one: whore, wife, mother, all holy. Apparently worshippers saw no contradiction, no need to exalt one aspect of the goddess (or divine feminine, if you prefer) and debase another. But something happens, some dis-integration. Listen again to the voice of "The Thunder, Perfect Mind."

I am the one whom they called Life
and you have called Death.
I am the one whom they call Law
and you have called Lawlessness.
I am the one you have pursued
and I am the one whom you have seized.
I am the one whom you have scattered
and you have gathered me together.

There are many theories about what might have caused the near total-eclipse of goddess worship (at least in the Western world) and I don’t want to address them today. I just want to observe that she (whoever, whatever she is) seems to be re-emerging. It is time to gather together her scattered archetypes. In her virgin mother aspect, she never completely disappeared, at least among Roman Catholics. I can’t help wonder if the tragic adulation/hounding of women like the late Princess of Wales doesn’t have something to do with the absence of a goddess to adore in the predominantly Protestant cultures of the United States and Britain. I believe that in order to heal our individual and collective psyches we need the divine feminine not only as the holy mother or the virgin or as a disembodied divine Wisdom, but as the holy whore, the "prostitute compassionate".

It is probably not practical or possible to reconstruct temples to the goddess for the practice of sacred prostitution (although some of us might like to). But we can begin to reclaim the archetype of the holy whore—or to put it more colorfully, we can embrace the sacred prostitute within. We can also examine our own and our culture’s attitude towards secular prostitutes, the descendants of the harimtu with whom Ishtar identified herself. The virgin/whore dichotomy, with all women implicitly forced to one side or the other of the good girl/bad girl divide, has harmed us all, women and men. If the virgin/whore dichotomy stands, then our souls and our bodies, our spirituality and our sexuality also remained divided, even at war.

As noted, Inanna, Ishtar, Isis and other great goddesses played all parts: wife, mother, lover, and in their completeness-in-themselves, also virgin. (As an aside, it is worth observing that the patriarchal classical Greeks divided these archetypal roles between many goddesses so that no one female deity had the kind of power Zeus wielded.) Though in Isis’s case, her lover is her brother, the goddess often bears a son-lover. The son begets himself as is technically the case in Christian doctrine, the son and the father being different aspects of one god. But in our culture we can’t quite grasp the concept of divine sexual passion. So Mary conceives mystically through an angelic messenger, and her virginity is taken literally as intactness of the hymen. We do not allow her to experience sexual ecstasy.

Although we profess to believe that Jesus became incarnate to share our human nature, in all its joy and sorrow, we do not allow him sexual expression or freedom. We know that a lot of women followed him (although they are not, officially, acknowledged as disciples), chief among them Mary Magdalen, the first witness of his resurrection. We are not supposed to speculate on the nature of his relationship with Mary Magdalen, although of course we have for centuries.

It is interesting, in terms of archetype, that so many women in the Gospel are named Mary, at least five, possibly six. No doubt Mary was an ubiquitous first century name. But it almost seems as if all those scattered parts of the goddess—virgin, wife, mother, sister, lover, whore—want to come back under the name Mary. The name Mary in Hebrew is Miriam (also the name of Moses’ sister) a name rich in meanings, among them bitterness, rebellion and the salty brine of tears, of the womb, of the sea.

The virgin/whore dichotomy demands that Mary Magdalen serve as the whore counterpart to Mary the Virgin, although there is no scriptural evidence that Mary Magdalen was a prostitute. Also, according to the lore that has accrued to her over the ages, she was a repentant prostitute, turned from her sinful ways by Jesus who heals and forgives her. And so, ironically, despite her reputation (deserved or not) Mary Magdalen doesn’t get to experience sexual ecstasy either. Regarding Mary Magdalen as a repentant, redeemed prostitute does nothing to heal the split between spirituality and sexuality, for in that scenario she does not integrate her sexuality with her new found life of the spirit, she merely renounces it.

Nickie Roberts, a former prostitute and prostitutes’ rights advocate writes in her book Whores in History: "To this day the whore stigma affects all women, whether or not we subscribe to the good girl/bad girl dichotomy which can be traced back to the beginning of patriarchal thought. Any woman can be branded a whore if she steps out of line."

Until the holy whore archetype is honored, there will be a whore stigma. Women will be divided against each other and themselves, and we will all be at odds with our own human nature. As a practical counterpart to archetypal integration, I’d also suggest that we advocate for decriminalization of prostitution. However women (and men) enter what is called the oldest profession, whether as victims of circumstance or by choice, whether they practice in a manner that we view as sacred or profane (another aspect of the same dichotomy) they do not deserve to be persecuted or prosecuted.

I’d like to leave you today with this proposition (pun more or less intended): Maybe Mary Magdalen, whom according to Gnostic texts Jesus loved above all others, was a whore, a real and unrepentant whore. Though there is no scriptural evidence that she was, scripture also makes no mention of her father, brother, husband or son. Without male protection and support her options for livelihood were few. The Gospel (Luke 8) indicates that she (and other female followers) may have provided Jesus with financial support for his ministry. They had to have some source of income. Why not the oldest profession? (Thanks are due to Judith Marcus for helping me develop this line of thought.)

Maybe Jesus, who had no tolerance for hypocrites and who was not exactly a proponent of conventional family values, loved Mary Magdalen just as she was. Perhaps he had the wisdom and the greatness to recognize in her the prostitute compassionate, the whore and the holy one.

Thank you all for listening today. If anyone is interested, I have a bibliography available.

May the compassion of the Holy Whore be with you and flow through you for the healing of us all. Amen and Blessed Be.

Bibliography:

  • Cunningham, Elizabeth. Holy Whore, a novel-in-progress, Volume II of The Magdalen Trilogy. Research for the novel inspired this sermon. Volume I, Daughter of the Shining Isles, is complete. I am seeking a major publisher for the Trilogy. Watch for it!

  • The Nag Hammadi Library. Robinson, James, M., General Editor. San Francisco: Harper and Row Publishers, 1978.

  • Pomeroy, Sarah B. Goddesses, Whores, Wives and Slaves: Women in Classical Antiquity. New York: Schocken Books, 1975.

  • Qualls-Corbett, Nancy. With a foreword by Marion Woodman. The Sacred Prostitute: Eternal Aspects of the Feminine. Toronto: Inner City Books, 1998.

  • Roberts, Nickie. Whores in History: Prostitution in Western Society. London: Harper-Collins, 1993.

  • Spector, Susan. The New Seminary Study Guide. Greenwich, CT: Marcus, 1997.

  • Stone, Merlin. Ancient Mirrors of Womanhood: A Treasury of Goddess and Heroine Lore from Around the World. Boston: Beacon Press, 1984.

Monday, 21 November 2011

Next Dj set



Back with a vengeance, DJ's Spunky Lobster and Poison Creeper will take over the Hobgoblin in Angel as part of our new bi-weekly Saturday Night residency in Jager Central called Obsidian :)

It will be a special event hosting 3 live bands:

Serpent Venom - Traditional Doom heavyweights celebrate slow demise of bass player. Love Witchcraft? Love Saint Vitus? Course you do, Serpent Venom are one of the finest doom bands London has on offer at the moment. There new album is incredible, you should listen to it, always, all the time, serious.......

www.myspace.com/serpentvenom

Conan - The thickest, sludgiest band in the UK in my opinion. Honestly its like being lamped by the Marshmallow man and haystacked by a 400 pound rump steak. Or maybe its like carrying an anvil, through tar, on Jupiter? Anyway its proper mindblowing stuff.

www.myspace.com/conandoomconan


Grimpen Mire - Influenced by many of the greats (Celtic Frost, Cathedral, Wizard etc) but with there own distinct Midlands thud.

Hard pounding drums, bent guitar notes and downtuned to fuck.

Most likely to be seen pounding beers at the bar. Expect me to be up the front grappling with an imaginary crystal ball like some sort of deranged lunatic.

www.myspace.com/grimpenmire1971

The Pub:
A short 4 minute walk from Angel tube station with loads of drinks offers all night at the usual random crazy mix of rock, metal, glam, sleaze, rock n roll, industrial and whatever else takes our fancy throughout the night.

Drinks Offers:

4 Jager Bombs for £10
Bottle of Peroni £2.50
Large Vodka £3.50


Saturday, 29 October 2011

Deviantart


Justine by ~PoisonCreeper on deviantART

All Hollow's Eves

Let's Welcome this new year with a little more initiative with regards of what it is ME as a universe independent from others.

In this night of All Hollow's Eve:

I have finally set up a blog only for my setlists and DJ activities.
Threads of the Invisible

and reactivated my DeviantArt Profile.

It was a long year and memories are still hurting deep inside. I cannot get away from the bleak that his departure has sown inside me.

I have no more drama, no more stories to tell, no more jokes and no more tolerance.
I seem to have become, by the reaction of my "friends", just a boring person and it looks like they have found other people able to keep them entertained.

The Joker has abandoned his mask.


I am drained to the bone and of no use to anyone.





Next dj set will be at Femme Fatale.

A female ONLY fronted night of sound, vision and art on a non-profit basis.





Monday, 25 April 2011

again....

I feel our path will cross again,
I feel he's getting closer
and I fear.

nothing has changed,
nothing has improved
inside me.

Saturday, 2 April 2011

The wonders of life, twists and turns of the fluxus.

It's amazing how life can spin you around, how paths twists and how changes beautifully surprises you. Keep the fluxus going, keep your head up. Smile, laugh and life will smile back. Things changed so much and i'm on the verge of sealing yet another chapter of my life by changing my job. The spring is back, butterflies are still alive and flapping their little wings in my stomach. I realise i'm scared but I know there's nothing to be scared of. I'm smiling and my head is on the clouds. I've got beautiful friends and a beautiful person with me. It can only get better.
I can still love. I do.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.6

Monday, 14 February 2011

the beginning of day 11

Thinking back at the last 11 days since I had promised to wait and to cut contacts: I finally came to the decision and the determination to act on all this thoughts and resolutions.
Told him tonight That I have to do that and that we have to cut all the contacts. I hope he understands that I am doing it for his own good. He has to miss me, he has to feel that void to be able to work on his own issues. He doesn't need the emotional blackmailing that involuntarily i'm making. He needs time for himself. I wish I could tell him but for now he's better off knowing that i'm angry at him and that I have given up the hope. I wish this helps. If it doesn't then there was no point in pursueing any kind of contacts in the first place anyway. Persevering on this dramatic, useless and exhausting chain of contacts. I cannot keep on doing this to him. He needs to be free and get on with his life. I will hope still and won't move on but there must be silence. On valentine's day I have taken this decision and will keep my word. Painful but necessary.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.6

Sunday, 13 February 2011

Another Day by Charles Bukowski

Having the low down blues and going
into a restraunt to eat.
you sit at a table.
the waitress smiles at you.
she's dumpy. her ass is too big.
she radiates kindess and symphaty.
live with her 3 months and a man would no real agony.
o.k., you'll tip her 15 percent.
you order a turkey sandwich and a
beer.
the man at the table across from you
has watery blue eyes and
a head like an elephant.
at a table further down are 3 men
with very tiny heads
and long necks
like ostiches.
they talk loudly of land development.
why, you think, did I ever come
in here when I have the low-down
blues?
then the the waitress comes back eith the sandwich
and she asks you if there will be anything
else?
snd you tell her, no no, this will be
fine.
then somebody behind you laughs.
it's a cork laugh filled with sand and
broken glass.

you begin eating the sandwhich.

it's something.
it's a minor, difficult,
sensible action
like composing a popular song
to make a 14-year old
weep.
you order another beer.
jesus,look at that guy
his hands hang down almost to his knees and he's
whistling.
well, time to get out.
pivk up the bill.
tip.
go to the register.
pay.
pick up a toothpick.
go out the door.
your car is still there.
and there are 3 men with heads
and necks
like ostriches all getting into one
car.
they each have a toothpick and now
they are talking about women.
they drive away first
they drive away fast.
they're best i guess.
it's an unberably hot day.
there's a first-stage smog alert.
all the birds and plants are dead
or dying.

you start the engine.

Friday, 11 February 2011

Friends

I woke up this morning to realise that the very same thoughts that polluted my brain last night, were still there.
Growling and scratching from the inside the walls of my heart.
Tearing apart the strings of my thoughts.
Burning down the last stems of hope.

And I misse my friends.

Their hugs and the comfort of their smiles.
Their silences or their knowing looks.
Knowing that whatever I do, whatever I think they will be there.

Silent days, staring at bare ceilings or chaotic nights on the dancefloor.

Friends protect.

Now that I am slowly realising that I should let Hope go, that it's time to stop clutching that loose rope, I look back and think at all my friends.

the only trustworthy bond in life.
Despite I thought I had found a stronger bond than this, I have come to realise yet again that it was bound, like any other times, to fail miserably.

I wish i could have all my friends together: Italy, UK, Germany, France, USA...all in one. I wish I could embrace them in one, global hug and just forget all the heartbreaks, rejections, disappointments and failures of my life.

A hug that could soothe the pain that seems to have no intentiuons to leave.

It's a hard thing to do and i am trying to succeed but I know
I have to abbandon Hope and stop crying for this loss.
He's gone and will never come back.
They never do, anyway.

I miss my friends, all of them.


Love and Friendship
by Emily Bronte


Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree—
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly's sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He may still leave thy garland green.

Day 9

Why should I give a shit
why should i still cry
why should I still hope

when you don't care anymore?

GENOCIDE ORGAN - Disobey ends (Videoclip)

Thursday, 10 February 2011

I think I am developing sore throat and a bad cold.
i am still not understanding what is going on in his head, I am still fearing he might end up falling for others and then, eventually, start something with somebody - not me -
I am afraid I might loose him, or maybe I 'm afraid I have lost his already. I need a sign, a sign that I am not waiting in vain.

I doubt the sign will arrive tho, I doubt he'll be still tinking of me when I get back to UK.

Teddy Bears - To Know Him Is To Love Him

The Script - If You Ever Come Back

Death in June - Crush my Love



A broken dream
Hangs over life
I feel no pain
I feel nothing

Like empty shells
Like coffins
Dead
Just emptiness
Just emptiness

Judas
he liked my picture of Eeyore.
I keep on looking at his name underneath that picture as an encouragement.

It's all so cold and grey here without him and I can't help but thinking how comfortable and protected I used to feel in his arms.

Death In June - Come Before Christ And Murder Love

are you happy without me?

day 7 and 8

Another day spent weeping and trying to warm myself inside.
No word of comfort can fill the void by his silence.
Is he gone for real? he had probably already over what we had and I cannot move on.
I know there is no point in hoping nor in waiting but I cannot do otherwise.
I listen to black metal and sulk into my own thought, I try not to let my parents see how I feel but I know my mum does know what I am going through.
There is no strenght in my reaction nor success.

I love him and he doesn't love me, how fucking obvious is that?
I should move on but still there is something that keeps me down there.

pointlessness in everything I do or think..or hope.

Another day is almost finished and i still cry.

Tuesday, 8 February 2011

Cracking a smile through tears

"I'm going to sleep now coz i'm drunk. I just had dinner with Steve, 2 hours of him telling me how amazing he thought you are and how perfect we are together. I could only agree with him. Sorry for breaking the silence, good night now. Hope Italy is treating you ok."

that arrived as a surprise.
Is it a sign not to loose hope?
It's incredible how many of our friends are supporting us.
How many were upset and how many are affected by this whole things.
It's incredible.

well that made me crack a smile, still it means nothing to me.
Just words, but they warmed my heart.

Day 5 and Day 6

The Grim End has arrived.
I couldn't deal with it, I couldn't bear the idea of being close to him and not be able to kiss him or make love to him.
Friends...we cannot be friends...we kissed and that brought tears in my eyes...we hugged and I was crying whilst hiding in his arms.
I haven't stop crying since more than a week ago and still it doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon.
I left London today and went to see my parents, hoping in some inner peace but even here memories, the fear and the hope still haunt me.
I shiver, I sigh and I still miss his skin and his smell.

Day 6... of waiting...
how long for...?

Monday, 7 February 2011

... And be sure of one thing: if I ever walk into your house again is certainly not to spend the night in agony hugging you but really wanting to have an amazing sex all night, like that I can only get from you and to wake up with you, TOGETHER, knowing that what we did the night before was something you truly wanted.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.6

Day 4

I don't know where I am standing now...
I told him I am sticking around and that we have to work together towards the same target.
I wouldn't have been able to go on without him but he has to realise there is no fear to be had in starting again.

It was heartbreaking having to say goodbye on the bus, it was heartbreaking not being able to kiss him during the gig and it was heartbreaking feeling his arms around me and knowing that they were not going to touch my bare skin for virtually ever.

things will not be the same as before. I cannot put myself in that same position of being introduced as a "mate" and I will still have to go on with my life. Only Penelope had Ulysses coming back into her arms. I have never heard such a thing happening these days.

Still I hope he will realise
but
I cry, still
for not being able to be myself with him yet again.
and I cry for not being able to be with him.

love sucks

Sunday, 6 February 2011

Day 3

he's coming here to talk again.
We decided that we need to stick together if we want to work things through.
Only by helping him and showing him that there is no reason to fear the failure with me, we can be happy and hopefully together.
My only fear is to become a friend and to see him falling on love or shagging some other girls.
Of having to be the witness of my "downgrade" to a friendship level.
If he really loves me and if I really love him we will work towards the same target, together.

Only time will tell but the separation is not an answer to all this.
there is hope and I don't want to leave the battle until I have fought with all my Will and all my Love to save this beautiful thing that we have.

Tamaryn - Dawning (Official)



‎..I woke up wanting you. did your heart succeed the way you want it to..in love, do you remember, when the day came quite suddenly.. it's a hard light when the hearts sees, that it beats alive.. you're a vast sea..

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.6

Day 3

Last night session was particularly heavy and exhausting.
I still have blood under my nails and the taste of it in my mouth.
The scalpel lays dirty on the table and the ashes of that rose with the remains of the paper used is in the ashtray on the altar.

I never had so many cups coming up in a spread since I had met him.
They tell me to be patient and the final outcome will be the 5 of cups reversed.
For now I just need to wait and be patient, accept the separation and just hold this ace of cups in my hands.

It hurts to wake up without him with me, it hurts knowing that he's so far with his heart and I still cry.

Bitter tears of impotence.

Saturday, 5 February 2011

Day 2: still painful, I try to hold onto the hope but I cannot help but falling deep down. The spirit is weak and the fear is strong.
Slowly the resignation kicks in and I tell myself: how long more can I keep clutching this rope that is tied up to nothing anyway?
I need a sign but it's all vain.
I keep crying and my eyes hurts, my heart is pumping hecticly and my body shakes inside.
I want to stop this pain, this slow procession towards a certain death.


I can't let go that loose rope.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.6

Friday, 4 February 2011

It's done. I asked the question and got the answer. Time to accept and wait.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.6

Thursday, 3 February 2011

"Mommy Mommy, Where's My Brain?" directed by Moritsugu (1986 | Cinema of...

Triarii - Legio VI Ferrata



If everything is worth nothing then I can do anything.
An empty shell that is not worth a fight will only and always remain a worthless shell. can't be worse than that.
Time to bury feelings and my dried, useless, heart.
Time to endeavour the war path
we could have been heroes.

N I C O HEROES

...and the more I think about it...
my thought goes to all the people around us.
our friends
my friends
his friends

It never happened to me that so many are hurt directly or indirectly by this.
many messages of not giving up hope
and many more of sad surprise.




did the energy dry up

or

was it violently put out

?

Space 2/2 - Timothy Leary&Ash Ra Tempel

Space 1/2 - Timothy Leary&Ash Ra Tempel

Just not worth fighting for




Again, I'm here, puffing at this long cigarette.
1am. 03.02.11

Something slipped today
or, rather
I let it slip.
it wasn't staying for the right reason.
I wasn't worth the fight, simple.

I still feel his kisses and his hand on me...

my heart is broken once again: it wasn't worth the fight.

many reason to leave, no reason to stay.

is anything worth the fight? I wonder.
I thought I had one worthy reason but, yet again, I was wrong.

Ash Ra Tempel - Darkness: Flowers Must Die [1972] [Purple Pyramid, 1998]

Wednesday, 2 February 2011

All We Ever Wanted Was Everything

Current 93 All The Stars Are Dead Now

The Seekers - The Carnival Is Over.(1968)

NICK CAVE - THE CARNIVAL IS OVER

my heart is broken
Clutching the phone in my hand with my heart wrapped barbed wire. I stare at the ceiling in silence.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.6

Rosa Crux - Omnis qui decendum

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.6

2.2.10

Puffing at this long cigarette,at one minute past midnight,
I decided to have a look at some old posts on this blog: almost exactly a year ago, I had just come back from Malta to dj with my newly found friends from Poland.
I remember those few days with joy and I wish I could have done the same this year instead of spending this damp and sad winter in London.

Today is the first day where I am officially on statutory sick pay for the next 2 weeks. Work related stress has been the diagnosis of the doctor. Yes, things hadn't been the best work-wise in the last 6 months and, despite things are getting better every day, I am still paying the consequences of a lot of past pressure from my boss and colleagues. On top of all, some emotional issues had come to the surface. Hopefully by the end of this 2 weeks things will be sorted on both levels.

I'm coming up with some interesting things to do with my time generally my idea is to work on my own wellbeing.
Maybe some (radical) changes of my room and also more research on musick and magick.
I have been neglecting my own path, lately to allow time and space to something important but I also realised that I seem to have lost touch with who I am, deep inside, becoming quite boring to my own self.

Feeling rejected or, just simply, not of any help to the people I love and care for made me realise today that I have to regain control of my Will and Love.

Something is slipping away, a change is happening and I have to accept this change of state.
A rough patch, I'd say.
Still don't know what will be the next stage but I feel the wheel crackling. it will move soon.
I fear and I suffer, like all the times it had happened, like anyone else that has ever been in my shoes at any point of his or her life.

I puff again and listen to TriORE again, like last year at this time.
At the end of february last year I had gone to Italy and dj'd in Genoa.
That night I saw for the first time in 6 years Mathias.
For the first time in 6 years I finally had been able to let go that heavy weight, the guilt for having disappeared from day to night from his life and the pain for having had to end such a strong bond.
The bond was still there and I could finally rest and look forward towards my future without having to shut out those 2 years of my life every time I was remembering the past.

It's a comfortable place to look at, I had been told today. The funniest thing is that what I usually say. I even think I used this concept in some of my old, little, silly "poems".
Yes it is but it must not be a weight that slows down the pace of your walk in your life-path.

not easy..and how to do that? I am still unable to describe how to do it.


I had a nice night tonight with my friends although my thought went often somewhere else.

Rosa Crux.



The long cigarette is finished and I shall drift into sleep.
Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.

Tuesday, 1 February 2011

Wilson Pickett - In The Midnight Hour

mustang sally - wilson pickett

Buddy guy Koko taylor-born under a bad sign (Albert king)

KOKO TAYLOR - BAD CASE OF LOVING YOU

Koko Taylor, "Voodoo Woman"

Etta James Trust In Me



Trust in me in all you do
Have the faith I have in you
Love will see us through, if only you trust in me
Why don't you, you trust me?
Come to me when things go wrong
Cling to me daddy,woh yeah and I'll be strong
We can get along, we can get along ,oh if only you trust in me
While there's a moon, a moon up high
While there are birds, birds to fly
While there is you,a you and I, I can be sure that I love you....oh....
Stand beside me, stand beside me all the while
Come on daddy face the future, why don't you smile?
Trust in me, and I'll be worthy of you ....oh yeah, yeah
Why don't you trust in me in all you do?
Have the faith that I... I have in you
Oh And love will see us through, if only you trust in me Yeah...Yeah Yeah
Why don't you come to me, when things go wrong, cling to me and woh, And I'll be strong
We can get along, we can get along oh, if only you trust in me.....

Etta James - At Last


At last, my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song
Oh, yeah, at last
The skies above are blue
My heart was wrapped up in clovers
The night I looked at you
I found a dream that I could speak to
A dream that I can call my own
I found a thrill to rest my cheek to
A thrill that I have never known
Oh, yeah when you smile, you smile
Oh, and then the spell was cast
And here we are in heaven
For you are mine
At last

Etta James - Sunday Kind Of Love

Etta James I just wanna make love to you

Etta James-My Dearest Darling

etta james I'd Rather Go Blind

Janis Joplin - Tell Mama

Beth And The Black Cat Bones - Hoochie Coochie Gal

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.6

Monday, 31 January 2011

23.23

I don't get it - Coil

“I want to sleep with you” by Joyce Mansour (1955)


I want to sleep with you side by side
Our hair intertwined
Our sexes joined
With your mouth for a pillow.
I want to sleep with you back to back
With no breath to part us
No words to distract us
No eyes to lie to us
With no clothes on.
To sleep with you breast to breast
Tense and sweating
Shining with a thousand quivers
Consumed by ecstatic mad inertia
Stretched out on your shadow
Hammered by your tongue
To die in a rabbit’s rotting teeth
Happy.