She... upon the stage,
deafening the ear
drumming deeply into the Soul
To catch, too mesmerize, to foster a dream.
Skin beading with sweat,
Body flows Serpent-lithe,
Siren song, wanting, needing... calling for you
To come deep within the wombing place.
The Priestess stands at the altar,
Beckoning, Calling for the Energys.
They gather round, chanting prayers of flesh desired-needs.
White and Black, Dark and Light, Janus faced creature…
Whom do we seek? What do we want?
Venus light... come and answer our prayer,
Our one desire.
Wrap us and thy embrace.
"It is I, as Venus,
Who has come upon the lighted plane.
I, Goddess supreme.
Yet, they think that within every womb they will find
That what it is to be the God.
Divine goddess that we seek.
Always beyond, ever tantalizing out of reach,
Divine Wonder with in our mystery.
One step past, to the woman, invisible, that stands always
Just out of reach,
Just out of sight.
Beyond horizons of our mind.
Men, gather round,
Flaming liquid desired-eyes,
Men, bound together,
On the stage where She is never found.
The Goddess reigns.
Not on the circus street,
Not where 42nd Street hawkers beckon call.
But in a song that flows from the very Soul captured by the
chains thrown by the woman's womb.
But in truth, thrown by men, netted-caught upon themselves.
Right behind every leering look,
Every catting call.
If men only knew how close the stand to that Divinity.
How holy a place the Stripper's Hall,
How sacred the spot where the Priestess reigns,
Dancing the deepest call to every man there has ever been.
But at the very nadired bottom pit
Resides the acme of what every soul can come to be.
She weaves her sceptered hand
Over office applicants,
Men revolt and storm to Heaven Hall
To chasten the Goddess supreme in Heaven’s firmament,
And approach the royal throne.
Athena -- Venus, regal upon her gilded chair,
For but a moment, defends, her chaste and pure divinity.
With lustful tearings they take their object,
their very hope,
The Goddess herself.
To take within themselves all their dreams,
The fulfillment of what they had always wished to be.
Both with such a final clasp, the Venus vanishes into thinning air.
The dream is done,
As the race fulfills its final climaxed note.
She is gone.
Do we race again?
Men learned to dream that the honing place was somewhere
else from where they lay.
It was that dreaming thought that flew down unto this plant
to invent an earth
And it was the of last-ribbed Adam thought
That gave the first infant's cry
The power of the Serpent's song.
But now the thought has run the case
And found within that there was only One song to be ever sung.
For God and Goddess have always danced entwined,
But only back-to-back.
Now, they turn and see that therein is but themself,
Calling forth from each,
The forever unsolved puzzlement...
The loving, deep embrace
Of the Wondered-naught that is their God.