21
Let the world appear as a red woman
A sensual torrent
To tear the binary system to shreds
Beyond the moloch and the superego
Beyond the psyche entirely
Familiar to us, only out of kindness
Through the very thin veil of consciousness
Her intrusion of Joy
What is most near
What is what most other
She Floods the present operating system
With a red tide
A torrent of mayhem and blessings
With generosity above all
To the anxious child with his mute world of feelings and images
He is still there, demanding attention
He only wants to be loved by the demi-gods
To the teenager, with his erotic rage
He is still there, demanding a tribe and a pin-up girl
He only wants to be part of your gang
To the adult, with his duties and disappointments
He is still there, trying to make a broken system work
He only wants to taste the original energy
To the dirty old man in his tranquil forgetfulness
Let the Red Goddess shine
22
Don’t trust the world
Trust only the Red Goddess
The living fire
The living reason
The ‘force of the flower.’
Don’t trust the intellectuals
Trust only those who have wrestled with God
Those who know the body’s truth
the heart’s reasons
and have fire in their words
Don’t trust the fuckers!
Only trust the lovers of The Red Goddess
In other words, those who have been humbled
By the terrifying angel
And give their life to that vision
How do we trust when everybody is trying to get the goods?
Is whispering promises in your ears?
With a ‘buyer beware’ label on every word?
Keep only the gifts and discard the packaging
To the goddess is naked but also adorned
23
The human realm is a long razor and a possibility
Everyone is waiting actually to do it
It’s not our fault; we are afflicted
There is no excuse however
not to turn afflictions into art
How to do that?
I supplicate you
From the depth of my ignorance
Grace is everywhere, and yet
We are absurd, and we know nothing but
The mummery, the absurd theater
Better drink to the dregs of the bottle than play this game of mediocrity,
Better roll the dice than sit here watching the newsreel
Dear Goddess, teach me to see you
Teach me to go beyond my mediocrity
Teach me to be crazy
In the way that only sane people are
Teach me to make an outrageous offering
Not a symbolic gesture
Teach me to sing your praises again
Not mumble the liturgy
Teach me the raw and ragged truth
The gravel and the honey
The real vodka of Longing 200 proof
24
Last night, I dreamed I embraced an old teacher
And conquered an old enemy
(My shyness mostly)
And it occurred to me that thanks to You
I don’t need a therapist
Your intervention in my dream
provides all the analysis necessary
And besides, life is not about getting better
It’s ‘sickness until death’
Better find the path of the Red Goddess
Than the social medusa
Than the lonely red planet
Who is She?
She is the placeholder for what cannot be named
Mary Magdalene and Martha
Anointing Jesus, because what else could she do
She is the dream of men
All we ever ask, all we ever want
Is to be blessed, anointed by you
And then we will endure all the stations
Suffer all the children
Give up childish wars and sterile entertainment
Become knights of the Round Table
If you ask the question ‘what do men want’?
This is the precise answer:
Just to behold You, even once …
25
Paris blossom, Paris spleen
Paris elaboration, Paris iron lattice
And there you are, leaning against the wall in all your finery
Beyond the opposites
You belong to Paris because you love elaboration
And this city loves the elaborations of beauty
The antithesis of American boxes
This snake
This bitch
This dark, vile cockroach
Called Paris
The city of Love and light
With greedy shopping bags
And ghostly spectators
Still, love always comes along
With nonchalance
And in any case
And she burns away
The false impressions
Cleans up the streets of phantoms
Provides another Holy fire
The spires of Notre Dame
And walks down the street with such
Confidence and such legs
Laughing for no reason at all
26
What are our lives for?
Tell me, Red goddess
You who are without angst, boredom, or regret
One moment, followed by the next moment
A few good blow jobs, and then …
I don’t know, but I went into the dark wood
I tasted the merde of the merde
Is there a virgin or a mountain of gold there?
Hang onto the mast!
There are 10,000 storms coming
Says the Gods of the internet, preaching the gospel
To slow learners such as myself
But does the eternal virgin ever retire?
Does she ever stop making love?
I think not
That’s why I’d rather go mad with the Pentecost
than be an enlightened sophist
Yeshe Tsyogal, you who make love to lepers
You are the one I worship
You who go everywhere
And nowhere
You lady of paradoxes
Lady of limitless pussy
Without a bit of gender confusion
Without an inch of ‘meaning crisis’
Without bothering with the death rattle of civilization
27
The disease of humanity is tomorrow
And the Red Goddess is the cure
Tomorrow is the idol
Tomorrow is the dream machine
Tomorrow, we will be together
So now, dear Goddess
Don’t let me make of you tomorrow’s idol
Let me keep my promise of a poem offering
And let me do my worship today
Everybody has been sold that lie
That lie that we can go back to that garden blowjob
The Lie of History
The Lie of Utopia
And you, Dear Goddess, are the cure
You, dear Goddess, are the nowness
Both hands of the divine
The hand that breaks and the hand that feeds
The hand that cuts the aorta of tomorrow
And gives today’s nourishment
That banishes the fog of history
The embrace that kills time
28
The secrets of the Goddess are hidden in plain sight
What are they?
That there is no need for another beheading
or spring revolution
No need to put people on Mars
The faster we turn
The slower we are at learning
The more techniques we have
The less art
Why is it so complicated
When it is just so simple?
Why invent a pancake-making machine
When you can just make a pancake?
How to do un-pattern, un-habit
beak down Kundabuffer
Is this what you do, Red Goddess?
Is this the secret of your art?
The joy of elaborate undressing
The breaking of machine parts
The undoing, the unmaking, the unbeing
What arises from the heat of the sun disk
What fantastic shapes and beings
What a spectacle, what evil, and what beauty
What virtuosity
What erotic explosion
What convulsions
What embraces
What architecture
The master declares:
What a pussy!
29
When faith, hope, and love
Have become advertising slogans
When general concepts have swallowed up
All particulars
When people are only objects to each other
When family, intimacy, and dream
Have become cash resources
In the corruption of everything
In the poisoning of all the resources
When children are educated to be moloch
And parents are lost in TV wars
When general idiotism reins
This is the perfect chance to renounce the world
And go and worship the red Goddess
Who is the real world
There is no reason to despair
Nobody will be burned at the stake
Or even canceled for their bliss
If everybody is a heretic, nobody is a heretic
You can do whatever you want, the master once told me
Provide we pay our being-obligation-debt
Provided we do the work
Turning lead into Gold has always been a racket
But turning Gold into Gold
That is a win-win kind of business
The Business of Real Love
30
There is a mind fucking war
Between two illusory armies
They don’t exist
Therefore, I offer arms and flowers
At your feet
There is a drama between the Gods
Those are just angry and petulant children
In fancy costumes
Therefore I will give you sweets and tea
Things haunt me that simply do not matter at all
Straw blown off a roof
Dolls for the bonfire
Therefore, I give you
My resentment, my pity, my forgetfulness
If my thought dreams could be seen
They would put my head in a guillotine,’ sang Zimmerman
But you know all my thoughts and their ultimate transparency
And still, you Love me
Therefore, I offer you
Elephant limbs, crimes of humanity
I have dreamt of them all
I have turned brother against brother
I have violated my sister
I am the origin of the war
I didn’t mean to
I was just ignorant
Therefore, I offer all my mute violence
At your feet of nectar
You have given me this gift
Still, I politick
Still, I play with the AI operating system
Please take off all my masks
And undress this pilgrim of his rags
Here in the holy of the Holies
Where the only thing that matters is Red
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