Posts Tagged ‘ god ’

Nicholas Klacsanzky’s Whale Vertebrae – Haiku Commentary

whale vertebrae
drifting from one god
to another

 

Nicholas Klacsanzky

(first printed in A Hundred Gourds 5.3)

Source: Nicholas Klacsanzky’s Whale Vertebrae – Haiku Commentary

Against the Couple-Form | LIES Journal

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“In this pathetic, stillborn world, we do have feelings. Sometimes we look at someone and think we are in love with them. We must crush the illusion that romance is or will be an avenue for liberation. We must divest from romantic relationships as means through which we might access a better world than this one. In realizing that their economies and conventions are part and parcel of the continuing soft disaster of our lives, we will leave behind all hitherto existing couples. New and perhaps unknown forms of feminist organizing present the only possible frontier for love.

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Make love. Anything can be sex. The body is rich and varied in its parts and sensations. So many ecstasies have yet to be felt. Get away from the genital organisation of ‘sexuality.’

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Construct autonomous feminist spaces where women produce their own action and discourse. Banish the mediation by men of relationships between women. Prevent a single relationship from alienating oneself from the processes that contribute to liberation and the abolition of capitalism and patriarchy. Let no single bond stand in the way of friendship, organizing, and advancing the interests of the class.

CLÉMENCE X. CLEMENTINE AND ASSOCIATES FROM THE INFINITE VENOM GIRL GANG
Against the Couple-Form

 

Source: Against the Couple-Form | LIES Journal

How the Powerful Fear Art: Lessons from John Berger | Literary Hub

Books to Share with Everybody You Can

1984 by George Orwell

Ways of Seeing by John Berger

The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon

Aliens and Anorexia by Chris Kraus

Waiting for God by Simone Weil

Postwar by Tony Judt

The Origins of Totalitarianism by Hannah Arendt

Source: How the Powerful Fear Art: Lessons from John Berger | Literary Hub

“Beyond God the Father”,an Interview with Mary Daly :: DALHOUSIE REVIEW

. . . Following in the paths of these many fore-sisters, including fore- sisters who were burned as witches, Virginia Woolfand fore-sisters present and future, I would like to move towards conclusion thinking about the breaking out of women as a summoning of our deep memories. Women are like volcanoes. Explosions of our ancestral racial deep memory are necessary to break the unnatural crusts of the Fore- ground. Such explosions coming from deep internal potency can be compared to the explosions of a volcano. A volcano is a vent in the earth’s crust from which molten or hot rock and steam issue. Volcanic eruptions in women’s deep Re-memberings are Elemental, breaking through the vents in the crust, and although these may be experienced as sudden, the forces that caused them have been brewing in deep natural cauldrons. Women ourselves are the brewsters as well as the cauldrons; we are the agents of our own elemental explosions. The rhythms of our Re-membering are not like the tedious, tidy, tick-tocks ofthe clocks and watches oftidy time: Father Time, which is very tidy, 9 to 5. Think also, of the doomsday clock. The Bulletin of the Atomic Scientist put out in the United States has in every issue, a sketch of what they call the doomsday clock. Midnight represents, of course, nuclear holocaust. In January 1984, they set the hands at three minutes to midnight. So much for the clocks and watches of Father Time. The rhythms of our Re-membering are tidal. We may find insights about these rhythms in the words of the scientist Rachel Carson, concerning a small, green worm known to marine biologists as Convoluta roscof- fensis who lives in the sea sand, rising when the tide has ebbed and sinking into the sand when the tide returns. Sometimes scientists transfer a whole colony of these worms into an aquarium where there are no tides. Rachel Carson writes:

“But twice each day Convoluta rises out ofthe sand on the bottom ofthe aquarium, into the light of the sun. And twice each day she sinks again into the sand. Without a brain or what we would call a memory or even any very clear perception, Convoluta continues to live out her life in this alien place, remembering in every fibre of her small, green body the tidal rhythm of the distant sea.”J

So, too even within these most alien places women can remember our original rhythms, and these rhythms are lunar, natural rhythms: Rhythms of spirit j matter, rhythms of imagining, of thinking, of psy- chic force.

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. . . Women are batteries. If you refuse to be a battery, then the male has to find the source of energy in himself. The patriarchial male then is thrown back upon his own possibility for generating his own energy, without sapping, vampirizing, women. And that, indeed, would be a great opportunity, it seems to me-to be able to not be a parasite, to not be a vampire. But, the trick is, if you do this primarily for men, again, you are missing the point, because women under patriarchy have never been for ourselves. Yes, most women bond with men in some way, but I’m inviting you to consider something ehe: the gynergizing, ecstatic experience of woman- bonding. Then you may want to reconsider that question or ask it again but it Will be in a different context, in a different environment.

 

— Mary Daly  (pp279;685-686 DALHOUSIE REVIEW )

God – John Lennon

The Beach Boys – God only knows (1966) fully restored video

Divine Magnet » Leopoldine Core

Leopoldine Core

Chair

Baltimore is the darkest place

it’s basically been fucked with

damp houses

meat in the trees

And you are the world’s most

intrepid salesman

Energy

that’s what you have

instead of Harvard.

You make me feel

like a kitten

with a wallet

with a wallet

But the sun is strange

pencil light pouring

out of a hole and

I can’t move in this house

someone’s life

is still here

the bed is warm

with it.

Why do I go on the internet

when everywhere else

is heaven?

Even the torture

of watching my hand

in the bathwater

Even the flat silver

light of Baltimore.

I came here

I thought it was free

I wanted to write poetry

God was in a car in the sky

and I shouted my arm is so weak

and he said I know

it’s like a toothpick holding a machine

and I saw his face for a minute

Satan’s bacony lips

It wasn’t God

just some confident animal

in a car

And the trees were

kind of purring

And I noticed my legs

were gone.

We’re like something

that camps out

in your home

here is the chair

here is the door

opening

the glare of light

on your tongue

heaven touches me

again

the text

is its own animal

panting

in the dark.

Divine Magnet » Leopoldine Core.