WTF Friday: Altared States

The poem for this Friday is one I wrote about the happily ever after that is fed to all of those who are descending, have descended, are contemplating a descent or arguing for the right to descend into marriage. The inspiration for the poem was a case of child abuse that I was privy to. In that case the child had been burned with a cigarette lighter tip. The abuser had left the lighter running until all the metal was extremely hot and then had essentially branded the child. The result was a very distinct and disturbing smiley face.

I don't believe that the Mormons have the exclusive jurisdiction of dysfunctional marriages. In fact, some of the problems may be inherent in marriage/humanity itself. I'm not completely down on the concept of marriage. As I say in the poem, marriage is the darkroom of the soul.

As with most of my Friday posts, check back later, because I have some commentary links I want to add.

ALTARED STATES

Kneeling over the altar
Gazing into each others eyes
Smiles interlocked
Mirrors cascading into an ever fading eternity
Off the back of her head.

Cigarette lighters make smiley faces
On flesh
If you heat them up long enough
Long slanted serrated eyes
From the Round nobs spun to
Create sparks with the flint
Running perpendicular
To the metal lips
Around the edge of the lighter.
Smiling anywhere the metal glows.

Sticks and stones
And cigarette lighters burn
But Words -- Words will never hurt you
Except with a daily constant harangue --
The spells of witches and warlocks
Exerting their dominion over another's soul
You need not fear -- For they only take the soul
Of the one they loved --
"You can't do that."
"You are so stupid."
"You are so fat."
"You can't do anything."
"You whore."
"You ass."
"YOU, YOU, YOU, YOu, You, you, you, yo . . ., y. . ."
Until none of "you" is left.

The flesh continues living
Scarred inside or out
Scars of smiley face facades to the outside world
But the burn goes deep.

Inside her
The world melts away
Possessed by him
The world melts away
In the glorious golden copulations
As seeds are sown --
You reap what you sow
And sex sows pain
In the betrayal of a mere glance --
The numbing of the bumping
The grinding of the repetition
The in and out between the souls
Starts out hot, warm and moist
And ends cold, damp and sticky.
Altering consciousness only for a moment
Before the knowledge of good and evil
Returns the now separate souls
Into the cold, cruel world
Yet in all our hearts
We still smile and lust after yet another.

Laundry copulates in the corner
Reproducing at a rabbit rate
And sickness
And hunger
And bills
And empty milk jugs
And sticky cylinders of unknown liquids
And pet shit
And junk mail
And laugh tracks
And pop music divas
And ads
And ads
And more ads
All showing bright smiling, cigarette lighter burn faces.

The photo bulb flash
Captures the smiles
Of those clad in white
Amidst sunsets, flowers and the Granite
Of Temples
Housing the altars
Of our altar-ed state
Altar-ing so young
Teens plunging
Out of Eden
Into Heaven
And then Hell --
The photos go into an album

The look of young love,
Untainted by the sewer of life
Simple, delicate gazes
Emanating joy and fulfillment
In another.
The altar --
The photos –
Not knowing that
Marriage is the dark room
Where
The soul develops.
That Death comes to all living looks
Rigor mortis of the eyes
Pupils stiff and unmoving
Cornea cold on the page,
Retina unreflective of the other soul
Just stagnate --

But the smile
Is burned
Light burned through the air
Leaving on the yellowing photo-paper flesh
An interminable grin

Phallus, Patriarchy and the Anarchy of Metaphor

bountiful_temple, originally uploaded by swilsonbp.

I'm still adjusting to the daily blogging. I'm going to have to figure out something, since my energy is being sapped quicker than I seem to be able to replenish, yet this daily publishing (even with few readers) is invigorating. I just made a long post on the Letters from a Broad blog on Natalie Collins new book and Mormon/Post-Mormon literature, which seemed to max out most of my writing tonight.

I found this lovely picture of the temple that captures so much of the church's phallic patriarchal energy. I love the glow at the point of insertion into Mother Sky. Yes, I know it is supposed to be Mother Earth and Father Sky, but somehow the ubiquitous Mormon steeple is left to fuck the sky and I didn't want to turn this post into a gay post, although I'm sure I'll discuss homosexuality and Mormonism at some point. I guess I can rephrase for inclusiveness: I love the glow as the temple spire fucks Father/Mother Sky.

Sex is the religious metaphor of this blog. Sex in its many varied aspects can metaphorically capture the seemingly irrational needs created by a religious heritage. The possibilites seem limitless: a pro and post Mormon fucking into reconciliation, an orgiastic Zion of one heart, one mind and one body, a rape of innocence and trust or a rape of cynicism and non-belief. Sex happens to be my metaphor of choice for dealing with religious metaphor.

Religion is nothing more than mythic metaphors of the human experience. I encourage you all to take the metaphors seriously. The most subtle subversion of fundamentalist religious faith occurs when the metaphor is exposed. Exposing the metaphor of religion is eating the forbidden fruit. You eat and you are out of the paradisiacal and unified world of the Church, and into the cold, cruel world of duality and ambiguity.

The acceptance of the religious metaphors by those of us in the apostate caste, forces the duality and ambiguity into true believing consciousness.

We must sow the mustard seed of unfaith.
We know the metaphors.
The metaphors resonate within us.
We need to fuck with the metaphors.