Category Archives: Spirituality

Misc Poetry


I am the god with tits.
I am the god, wine-drenched and hungry
Ever erect with a cock of
Rigid silicone

I am the god with the feminine wiles
Child-bearing hips and a wolfish grin

I am the god with the curves and the cunt
With a mean left hook and grapes in my teeth
Wet and angry, new flesh, nouveaux meat-chic

I am the god with a womanly snarl
My rod is bigger than yours and with it
I draw gushes of milk from the depths of the earth.

I like my little box shower
Because it contains me,
This world within me pressed against the glass, nebulous,
Bursting to escape.


Breasts pendulous and hanging
Dough-roll of tummy and thigh
Feelings that fill my ample, sumptuous flesh
And I cry under water
Hot enough to streak me crimson.

It is better when I touch no one but myself.



11 pm and mulling warm tea, contemplating my perversions – garden variety, darker and richer perhaps than some would be comfortable with but nothing overly problematic- and a hollow-eyed Dionysus comes to me, rising like a marble statue from a black fog. Around his head are living ivy wreathes, straining, dancing as though for the sun. His lips are curled in a grimace stolen from the countenance of Adam, his brow heavy bit still beautiful, his cheeks stone white but growing ruddier the longer I gaze upon him. It’s as though he’s the metaphorical to my thoroughly literal. I am sore from my dancing, and aggressively ignoring as usual my fears of abandonment- he did not come, not when I painted myself red with crushed berries, not when I swallowed the wine, not in the hours I flung myself rhythmically to madness–

But that was the problem, wasn’t it, it wasn’t madness. I could never leave the confines of my thoughts. Locked in my head I may as well have been dancing alone.

But here I feel him, swaying, aching as I ache but differently. The hangover in more ways than one, the greenish tinge to Caravaggio’s Bacchus, a hint of the slouch in Rodin’s bronze, the hands to big, the face too pained. Marble and flesh, this half-born, thrice-born god-man-child. His festivities, his beauty, his rage, but so rarely we see the shuddering breath that comes after. The fall beyond the crescendo. He’s there too. There’s madness in grief as much as there is in ecstasy. I wonder now if we confuse the Dionysian with the Apollonian in our manic golden age. No more the maenads alone: He rides the world. In every city his festival roars to life with the sleep of the sun, on every crackling screen his ithyphallic countenance groans and moans and rolls, rushing, languid, spent.

Everyone you meet is a broken person.


Everyone has baggage.

See, people start off as whole human beings, before all the cracks start to appear. For some, their first crack is when they’re born, the circumstances into which they are born or the condition they are born in. They start early and the fates decide how much more damage they’ll take- maybe life will be easy for them. Maybe not.

Sometime they are lucky enough to get through most of their lives without being damaged, although I think living a completely safe life is a form of damage in itself.

Things like loss, like death, they happen to everyone. Everyone dies. If you have family, they will die. If you have friends, they will die too. You will not go through life unharmed by natural occurrences. You’ll be damn lucky to go through life unharmed by unnatural occurrences. To date, I’ve not met anyone who has been untouched.

The longer you live, the more people you meet, the more damaged they will be. Life is long and many things happen in it. You might meet a 14 year old who is more troubled than a 50 year old. Age has nothing to do with experience, although it does have an impact on maturity. The longer you live, the more you get to feel, to see, to encounter, and the more you’ll recognise in other people. You’ll see cracks in them that mirror the cracks in you. You’ll feel their pain- or you’ll be repulsed by it. Your reactions are up to you.

You may ultimately be more hurt by life than anyone else you meet.

You may be more whole and complete. It will not feel that way, even if you can see it yourself. All of life is subjective, nothing can ever be objective. It’s just not how these things work.

You might never get to see what parts of a person are hurt. You might never know the things that get them down or make them angry or keep them awake at night, and it’s not your place. You should feel as honoured to know what hurts them as what pleases them. No one has a duty to interact with other human beings who probably will not understand, but they do anyway.

We reach out regardless of what we carry with us. Some more than others, some less. No matter what you think, or how your past has treated you, it is always a risk.

How you treat people is up to you. You don’t have to be kindly, just as you don’t have to be cruel. There’s no black and white in our reality, whether you like it or not.

Just remember, everyone is damaged. Everyone was once a whole person.

No one goes through life unscathed.

Perhaps… You should treat them accordingly.



The sky splits open above me, and I sit safely in a shelter of bricks and plaster,

remembering that in this vast open plain storms were once the voices of the gods reminding us how small we are.

Now we huddle in big tough houses and don’t feel the wind,

we don’t feel the rain,

but when the thunder starts up again…

We are damned if we don’t quake right down to our





I love Australia.

My Opinion


Wow, I’m all up in the ranting and yelling about big political issues these days. I’ll no doubt get back to posting my writing when November comes, don’t worry.
Now, this is just my opinion. Opinion can be changed through debate, so if you don’t like what I have to say, by all means formulate a polite and intelligent argument and post it in the comments. I’d love to hear your point of view.

Today, I’m going to talk about a Queensland MP who is complaining about the gay communities’ “Heterophobia.”

There are a lot of very angry comments on that article, and honestly, I don’t blame them. There were a few things in there that annoyed me, and I’m in a pretty mellow mood today.
I mean, the paragraph or so at the end about “Homosexuality can be grown out of”… I don’t even… just, ARGH!
But thankfully that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the man who thinks his religious beliefs are under attack by people who just want to be equal.

Heterophobia exists. It exists just as much as homophobia does. It could be a side-affect of being loathed and hated for so long, it’s natural that you’d start to hate the person who hates you. It could be jealousy over being an outsider, looking at all the joys of the insider’s life and not being able to have that. It could be a dislike of a different lifestyle. I’m sure there are as many reasons as homo/heterophobes.
Do I think this counts as heterophobia? Well…. No.

Let me explain.

I’m not a christian. I don’t think I could really understand the fervor with which the people in organised religion can follow their god. I have my own faiths and beliefs, but they are far from clear-cut with rules and laws, let alone a big book of words. What I have seen of the christian community is that each of them love their god more than most other things in their life. That’s a whole lot of love. If I were christian, you can bet that I’d be distraught that the world wouldn’t let my relationship with my significant other be recognised in the eyes of the most important being in my life. They want their love recognised by their god, and I don’t blame them. Family is one thing, deity is another.

That said, the whole ‘marriage is between a man and a woman’ thing trips me up.
Religion depends on how seriously you stick to it. If you follow it to the letter, then sadly, you need to follow that rule too. If you don’t, then don’t. Stand up for what you believe in, by all means. Mr. Messenger seems to have great faith in the book, and thus, great faith in the rules. If I take everything he says in that article at face value, supposing he’s honest, it’s just unfortunate. The rules of his faith can’t be bent for other people, they were laid out by god. I understand where he’s coming from. He must do and say what he believes is right, and in this case, his religion wins out. His relationship with his god wins out. I get that.
Personally, I don’t like it, but I do understand.

Now, if we are just talking about legal and social recognition, I like the concept of civil unions. It doesn’t help the religious, but it does help the rest of us who just want to be permanently and officially tied to their loved one. It’s a long way from equal yet, I’m not disputing that, but the concept of ‘equal but different’ has never really caused me any problems. I think civil unions should be available to everyone else as well; a way to legally bind a relationship outside of a religious context. Honestly, I think it could apply to any relationship structure- gay, straight, religious, atheist, monogamous, polyamorous, whatever. I’m a firm believer in the “Love is Love” quote, and if people want to be legally recognised as forever bound to another human being (or human beings, if the case may be) then I believe they should be permitted to. It’s not a gay rights issue, it’s a human rights issue.

I’m aware this puts me at odds with a lot of people, but I don’t mind. I’ve never really been the type to stick to a side just to avoid an argument.

The gay community is rich, and full, and beautiful. It’s developed under pressure, and like most things that have been through the rough, it’s come out gleaming and fabulous. I think complete absorption into society would gradually dissolve it, dull the shine. If it were a choice between being equal and being a rich, bright community, then obviously I’d pick the equal choice… But I hope that will never be necessary.

I’m aware that to hundreds of other people, ‘seperate but equal’ is a horrific thought. I’m aware that there are people out there who are struggling every day with their faith and their identity. I don’t speak for them, and I wouldn’t dare to even attempt to assume how difficult these things must be for them. All I can do is speak for myself, so I am.

Love is the most glorious, amazing, wonderful thing in this world. It should be celebrated, admired, adored, worshipped, and experienced by everyone, at least once. It should never be loathed or feared.
All people are equal, regardless of what they believe or who they want to spend their lives with. All people deserve the same rights.
Does it really matter what we end up calling it?

I hope one day these things can be fixed.


“In Hebrew, to engage in sexual intercourse literally means “to know.”  This is not just a euphemism.  The connection between erotic desire and knowledge is lodged both in our origin story in the Garden of Eden, and written into the word philosophy—philo, loving, sophia, knowledge or wisdom—a loving of knowledge.”

(From Here)

A Particularly Pleasant Quote

On Excess


I love the rampant destructive eroticism of this world.

Only humans could look at their existence and see the beautiful in the obscene, purity in excess, completion in termination. Excellence in grotesquery. Sadomasochism is inherent in every thought and movement and we spend our lives studying ourselves, learning what makes us tick, wondering why something provokes awe while another provokes disgust, and often, why the two emotions can be connected to the same object. Religion is as perfect an example of self-torture as any, depicting intense suffering as holy salvation. The concept of revelry in excess applies still to the denial of all but the necessary, an excess of puritanism, an excess of resistance to temptation. Likewise, spiritual wholeness can be found in loss of control and release from the concept of ‘too much.’
No other creature is as immaculately drunk on its own senses as a human being. No other creature seeks as tenaciously to complete and understand itself. No other creature will hunger so voraciously for the suggestion of perfection, and no other creature is as willing to gently hold death as a symbol of the unknown.

How wonderful, unfamiliar and unpredictable we can be. I think the sweetness of life is the brightest thing in this universe, even in its bittersweet moments.

Spiritual Ramblings


Short post, I hope.

I’ve been thinking for a few hours. Not that I ever really stop- I’m constantly thinking- but recently I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus from my spiritual thoughts and studies. I was getting too confused by what I believed, what I didn’t believe, what I wanted to practice and what was just ballast. I just dropped everything, stopped everything, and lived life without thinking about it for a while.

Like most things important to me, however, it started to creep back, and today pounced on me like a fully grown tiger. It was heavy, and lush, and loaded with points that could hurt if I wasn’t careful. It was colourful and it took all of my attention. I have to admit, I’m thrilled that the interest and passion is back. What I’m not thrilled about is the all-new confusion it’s brought with it.

My focus has changed. I’ve taken more of a fondness for Frigga than Freyja, feeling more in common with her than my other beloved goddess. The two have been a troubling subject for me since I first started studying, due to the debates about whether they were technically the same person. I don’t see them as the same person, but more like family, with similarities and differences but some enigmatic same-ness binding them together. I grappled with my beliefs and decided to stick to Freyja, thinking that I couldn’t combine the two, and that Frigga just wasn’t right for me.

I’m not entirely sure what to think of this change. I know some of it has had to do with my current living conditions. I’ve become a sort of assistant house-mother while the real mother is away for months at a time, cleaning and organising and watching over Jai and his sister, and her flock of friends and lovers. People are drawn to this house in times of need, and what Jai’s mother did for them, we three now share. I’ve felt more motherly over the past month or two than I ever have in my life.

The problem is that this is temporary. She will come back and take over again, and I’ll be back to where I was before. I imagine when she takes off for months again, I’ll feel like this. Rinse and repeat.

I don’t believe one can be fickle with gods. They generally don’t like it when you have their names on your lips and offerings in your hands one week, and then nothing the following week when you turn to someone who suits you more. I don’t believe they aren’t the jealous kind. I think they are hard working and expectant of loyalty, and difficult to please. Everyday people are that difficult. There’s no reason for gods to be any different, and certainly not any easier. Especially the norse gods.

I don’t know what to do or think. I’ve asked for a sign. I believe in signs, I know that much. I think all I can do is wait, either for them to lend a hand, or for my mind to make itself up. Of course, your advice and comments are welcome, hell, even pleaded for. Help me work out this mess, please. I’d appreciate it.