Her flower blooms: beyond the petals
lies the living Wisdom of Her body,
the life of the Rose; Her lips stained red
by wanton kisses and holy blood.
By the flame of Her lust did I know Her
as Mystery incarnate, and chased Her to ruin
to taste of Her dew, and be drunken.

Unto Her did I bear the Cross
as a lamb to a lioness; I did tremble
in the light of Her intoxication, 'til
She arched Her back like a bow of sinew
and notched my arrow into Her string,
firing me into the stooping starlight,
the ***** of the Queen of Heaven.

Her mons the sacrificial grounds,
the exhibition of the shameless harlot.
My Cross the altar of the Work,
my blood the seed of Life.
In the retort we join unto Death
and new genesis, pouring Self
and Self into the Self-less.

Voluptuous.
Wafting smoke,
wan displays, embraced.
Hold the shame.
And:
carry yourself
along the Way.

Liberation
is the name of Her
shoulders and clavicles,
sinuous and ripe
swells,
the music of Her body
thrums.

My church:
Her vesica unveiled
uncoils the serpent.
Then, and then
only,
the shuddering
agony. Be.

Ubiquity
is the stone of Her altar,
death Her skeleton key.
Many locks; one door.
Enter.
Wake up.
Matter doesn't.

Surrender
is not an option, but
an oath of fealty.
One flesh
is
Forever.
Dreams fade.

Repenting
these depraved virtues,
the vice of Her worship
grips tightly.
Die.
All honeyed luster
and deep silk.

*****
is the tinge of Her kiss,
Her laudanum love
the needle ******!
Down.
It all points
that Way.

****** means "sheath".
Oh, how tiresomely sexist,
this utility.

"****" is a sharp word,
but it will only ***** you
if you so insist.

And "*******" means
"to stand in for the Goddess" --
both Mother and *****.

Fertility cults
of Babylon hailed Ishtar,
the young Sophia.

In Sumerian times
they did call Her Inanna,
who shed Her jewels.

Solomon the Wise
did wed Her in his temple,
and wrote Her a Song.

At Her temple gates
await the harlots, smiling:
yours for but a coin.

Sacred silver thrown,
a rite of passage. Some wait.
Some wait longer still.

Wisdom works through them.
The hierodules of Heaven
beckon, honeysweet.

"Come to the temple,
let us dance the timeless dance,
my Lord Dumuzi!"

Rosy cheeks and lips,
shamelessness in Her power.
Passion at its peak.

Too **** for words.
Men feared Her and wrought cages,
misdirected blame.

Mary, the chaste one,
is an abomination.
Half, and the lesser.

A neutered Mother
with a ****** for swords,
a scabbard for men.

The Grail was stolen
from between Her holy thighs.
Paul was such a ****.

A **** who feared Her,
Mystery of Death and Blood.
Much more than a sheath.