Behind a cut, because I’m nice.
iStock Photo owned by made-in-italy.com
Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me by U2
The Joker and Harley Quinn, by Unknown Artist
You thirst for freedom as if it were an easy thing,
something yours by right and without ruckus,
the ticket to a life of ease and comfort-
I have news for you, coward:
the ecstasy of life is violent and sanguine,
strange drugs and rich wines come at the price of life-blood
freedom is the utter destruction of all bonds, all mores, all cares
and the sacrifice of your viscerous, throbbing, raw heart
for a free-fall that never ends.
Freedom is madness, and madness the only freedom left,
for only the maniacal have what it takes to thrive
apart from the meaningless insanity of civilized life:
even if the yoke is easy, you are still a slave,
a cowed and lowing member of the mindless herd.
You cannot care for what the crowd thinks
as you live your own truth uncompromisingly,
you cannot care for the rebukes of the mob
when you rave with the truth,
you cannot care for what consequences come to you
because confinement, poverty, starvation and sanity
do not govern the truly liberated-
where you set down roots is your home
whatever you do is sacred and
whatever the world tells you is irrelevant.
If you cannot lose your life and roar with laughing bliss,
if you cannot watch the world burn and gambol like ravenous tiger
searching for the next blood-spattered conquest
then do not speak to me of freedom.
Dionysus. Music “You are the Blood” cover by Surfjan Stevens
Yes, this again.
Bullfight by Unknown Photographer
I died for my freedom and conquered death
and I have not stopped since-
the process of rending, tearing to pieces everything that is beautiful
because it’s more beautiful when stripped bare.
Be wary and know that when you follow me
you follow the bull of his Father, who is
the nocturnal hunter, the bull-roarer, the loud-thundering god
who will tear down all limits, all erected boundaries, your fences and prohibitions:
they are all crushed beneath my feet like the blood of the grape
and the oppressors impaled upon my horns.
The frenzied dance on an enraged beast, fanned by the red flags
of your unconditional and rapturous accord
(nothing less will do)
is the catastrophic that levels mortal lives
and creates the stomping ground for the raging bacchante,
for the maenads slicking their bloody fingers over sweaty contours.
When you dance with the Bull,
the Bull leads.
Madness by Muse
Bacchus and Ariadne by Antoine-Jean Gros
I cannot stop until you are all consumed
in my wild, drunken ecstasy-
I cannot stop until I consume you
and you consume me
and we are closer than any two diaphoretic creatures
fucking each other into carnal oblivion:
until I am you and you are I
and you see this pale thing you mortals call “love”
is not the love you were meant to experience
when there are such stronger flavors,
when there are much stronger vintages,
when there are more senses than just an insufficient five
to glut yourselves upon.
Hedonism is a pale precursor to
the ecstasy and salvation of the spirit
through fulfillment of the flesh that I am offering