Aicerno (aicerno) wrote in dedpoetssociety,

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Philosophical Musings of a Dark and Sensual Nature:

With some aspects certain to provide offense--depending on how one chooses to interpret them.


The Autumnal Equinox is a-cumin in, and summer is gone for the year; and Jess crystalviolet35 leaves for Japan in a few days. I am sitting in Kiva Han contemplating Halloween, and life is good. The sun is out, and what a day to be kayaking... or better yet, find a creek and go skinny dipping while the water's still warm.

At Kiva Han, the UPS man just brought in a shipment for the store, while some young woman off to my right was complaining about people not knowing her name, or what she is... is she a lesbian, a Hindu, or a reformed Muslim? A round of twenty questions never answered, save by the young woman sitting next to her at the counter (A friend or a possible lover?). Coffee houses are fun places for people with voyeuristic tendencies; although it's not the casually viewed sex that's the turn-on, it's the snippets of such overheard conversations, and engaging in the mental word game/twenty questions to fill in the blanks that provide the rush. For voyeurs like me, it's not in what is explicitly stated that turns me on; it's what's subtly implied.

Tattoo, tattoo; to be or wear one like a piece of favorite clothes... long worn and cared for like an old friend. A celebration of life, love (-or lust-), death, spirituality, political pursuasion and/or stance; social commentary; or right of passage...


(This was written after viewing the exhibit "The Bog People" at the Carnegie Museum of Natural History, and then making my way from the third floor to the second)

Stylized life and death
ritual murder in the murk
the swamp runs red with blood
digitized reconstruction

a head reborn
a bearded man
a knife of stone
no more to be shown

a lur a lur
entre le sur
to call to ritual
the dance of bronze

taken stance
to augury divine

"Le retour à la nature, la source de toute chose.

From Nature you come, to nature we entrust you."

10,000 Pine trees were felled to make the Campemoor trackway, which extended two kilometers into a bog.

Cast a cold eye
On life, on death.
Horseman, pass by! ~ William Butler Yeats, "Under Ben Bulbin."

It is interesting to follow the course of death from the bodies pulled from European bogs--covering an expanse of time from mesolithic Europe to the times of the Roman Occupation and early Christian era (this referencing the period of 800-1200 CE)--to an elk killed by an arrow in the Rocky Mountains--the only testament to its life is the alpine meadow in which it died and the snow-capped peaks surrounding it.

A Male Grizzly encountering a female and her two cubs over a dead salmon.

It could be viewed as a nihilistic art exhibit; each item as dead as the next, with only the brain to conjure images of what these creatures and people may have looked like in real life.

It's even better than the real thing; the hyper-glorified dance between life and death... the museum a grim artists' attempt to at once seduce one into a blissful, loving, euphoria and awareness of the dance, at the dance... and also remove one from the scene as though some voyeuristic necrophiliac entranced with watching two entombed lovers embrace.

What is a museum's role? To transfix, transport, villify, edify, glorify; exhume old information, puzzles; recreate a fixed moment in time; make the illusory real, and the real illusory. A mental exercise in the erotic, neurotic, that blends the subtle and sublime with the hyper-dramatic.

"Jesus said to his disciples, 'Take this, all of you and eat from it. This is the flesh of my body that will be given up for you.

Jesus then took the goblet of wine, and said to his disciples, 'Take this, all of you and drink of it. For this is my blood of the everlasting covenant that shall be spilled for you and everlasting salvation.'"

A Catholic's littany from birth to death; the transubstantiation... bread into flesh, wine into blood. I wonder how long the 'faithful' would remain so were the CHURCH to flavor the wine (or grape juice or water depending on denomination) with a metallic taste similar to real blood without using real blood.

Eat his body, drink his blood: A cannibal's littany--take his strength and make it mine. Would you prefer paper or plastic, 'le petit morte,' or 'le grande morte' (or is it 'le morte grande')?

Le petit mort (the little death): ~Would you like yours anally, vaginally, or orally? Take my seed and make it you, let me take yours and make it mine. Eat the apple (or pear, etc.) from the tree of wisdom, growing--taking nutrient from my dead body beneath its roots. Feel my seed take root in you.
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I wonder if everyone likes to eat and/or be eaten, an interesting source of food and nourishment. Fulfilling an unspoken need and desire. Are you the salmon or the bears, or are we a bit of both, hungering for each other? How many walk between the lone male and the female and her cubs with the freshly caught salmon? And the original Oedipus Rex; one of those cubs--if a male, and survives long enough--overthrows his father from the latter's territory, and then mates with his mother through no fault of its own, and no gods or society to either punish or chastise it for its actions.

~ A Freudian delight, and Delightful tragedy... Sophocles what hast thy wrought?

The Museum is quiet now, save for the construction workers over in the Hall of Dinosaurs as they remodel it, in the new fashion that is sweeping museums that specialize in such fossilized creatures. Maintaining a hyper-reality of a pseudo-environment not seen in at least sixty-five million years. As I sit writing, a young man and his girlfriend come upon me. I look up, not from having heard anything--I couldn't from the jackhammers in the room opposite--but from some vibration running concurrently with my thoughts. He seemed nervous, disconcerted, but she... she was blond, her hair tied back with a hair clip; about 5'5" tall, and having a sexy shape to her body--very easy and delightful to look at, and someone who looked like she was a predator about to swallow her prey.

The woman and I made eye contact and she grinned at me, and with her eyes gave a subtle movement as though a wink, as she said "Hello."

I like to think that she knew exactly what I was contemplating, although approaching from different angles, as this part of the museum is one of the darker places, perfectly suited for a 'quick' romantic liason with just enough risk of getting caught to make it worthwhile to the exhibitionist, but with enough space to hide again safely in the cloak of outward respectability--in otherwords, you'll know someone's coming from the change in the atmosphere long before you actually see them. *Chuckling* One could argue that it's because the space is somewhat dark and secluded--and it is, quite literally so.

From where I sit, in my range of vision from the front of the room: A scene involving a bull moose, a cow, and a calf encountering another bull moose (elk to you Europeans)... a mountain lion preying upon a family of mountain sheep (although the angle was such as to hide the family of mountain sheep). Then there is the Grizzlies' encounter--which only the lone male could be seen, but his posture correctly interpreted as feeling threatened--and then a family of jaguars, of which one is staring directly at me as though asking, "Friend, foe, mate, or lunch?" Its body attentive to the surroundings.

To my right-hand side, placed in phallic array on either side of the entry to the second floor of the Hall of Dinosaurs are two nine-foot long Elephant tusks, and erected vertically. To the immediate left of one of the tusks is an elephants' skull.

On my left-hand side, the exhibit is of a dead elk. The tall standing elk brought down by an arrow to its right fore-shoulder.

Le Morte Grande.

On the elk, several vultures (some black vultures, and some turkey vultures) have gathered for the feast. They stab it with their steely beaks, but they just can't kill the beast.

To my back is the ultimate in this dark room... the stereotypical fight of two men over a woman (or in this case, two women). The exhibit is of the rut--and two bull elk are battling for the rights to fuck and impregnate the two cows (female elk, not the bovine variety) also in the scene. One bull will win, the other will lose... the breaks of the game; either or both could be seriously injured or killed just for the sake of sex.

What further irony could exist in the world than to experience 'the little death' and 'the grand death' in the same day.

And now into the hall of botany--a pharmacologists' dream cum true. The juxtaposition between poisonous and edible, wild and domestic cultivars; forest, beach, and desert; and so on, as well as at least one with psychotropic substances (primarily Cannabis Sativa--in its economic function as cloth and rope--than as a joint).
Ornamentals for Domestic homes (both poisonous and edible varieties alike) across from forest and beach scenes reinforcing the theme of the dance, memoriallizing the dance of life and death.

More was contemplated but left unwritten, and so I leave off to recall if I can.