melittabenu

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

to you.