Sutras for Satyrs
Hymn to Shiva
It’s good to have a point
To reference yourself by
It’s good to have a light
To see yourself by
It’s good to have an infinity
To be finite by
It’s good to have a friend
To get outstoned by
It’s good to have a lover
To be outloved by
It’s good to have a Lord
To be outdone by
And it’s good to have a fire
To throw yourself in & burn yourself to a crisp until there’s nothing left of you but the little bits of bone they dig from the ashes and throw in the river to be washed away in the shit.
She (To Nuit at the Expense of Lilith)
As long as your happiness is predicated on hers
You shall be miserable.
As long as your purity is predicated on hers
You shall be abased.
As long as she is the mark of your success
You shall fail.
As long as your aim is her
You shall miss.
Oh man born of woman
Your lot is misery
But your home is the stars
In the endless acceptance
Of Her embrace.
The Voyeur (For Mark Zuckerberg)
What must it feel like?
Most your age accumulate pornography
If they have not yet learned of love
But you had to stash the world under your bed
You had to know our secret thoughts
And read our every desire
And sell them to the highest bidder
A new kind of pervert for a new world
The voyeur of cultures
Hunched masturbating to lives you will never live
And emotions you will never feel
How hollow must a man be
To have to fill himself with the lives of others
Not one or two but the stalker of millions.
It’s such a shame though
They’re on the other side of the glass
And you’re outside looking in
Now I know
Why the Magus wore that look
Decades of standing in the cold
And pounding at the door
Of the burning house
Now I know
Because I’m starting to get the same goddamn stare.
(Originally published in VOMIT IN THE MAINSTREAM, London, 2006)
Burn in the hell
Created by their lust of power
And their need for control.
By seeing others as tools
They renounce their souls
And burn in their own attachments.
In the world they see a mirror
And seek to ensnare it
Entangle it in words
Cut it down to size
And only make themselves smaller
Burning in the fire of their own fear.
All fear is fear of death
And death will take no offering
There is no power
There is no control
And those ghosts who seek such imaginary things
Will be hungry forever.
All text on this blog is © 2011 Jason Louv and cannot be used or quoted without express written permission from the author.