The Liturgy of Discovery
I.
The Crucifixion:
This should be the moment --
dawn of the Messiah, The Prelude
penned in reverence,
all things as they come.
January is only a memory,
wish it away, wish it
away! But
January came,
enshrouded me
in magnificent hues --
a god, honored
and worshipped
in the pit of my stomach.
His mouth on mine,
I cannot forget.
It is the dream --
the coagulated version
siphoned into an effluence
of lover's and bats
that fly in and out
and around my body.
Gaping holes
where they make their nest,
rest solemnly beneath my skin
to rise again
in the after-birth.
II.
The Ascension:
We escaped our humanness,
found a star and transformed its glory
into our own.
Significance in all things:
Lips pressed against my breast,
the depth of movement
contained
and released within an orgasm.
Holiness beneath the sea,
as it revolts against the shores
purging itself of impurities --
non-linear and fluid.
Worshippers and enemies, who will, in time,
be the same.
(c) Maria Lupinacci
I.
The Crucifixion:
This should be the moment --
dawn of the Messiah, The Prelude
penned in reverence,
all things as they come.
January is only a memory,
wish it away, wish it
away! But
January came,
enshrouded me
in magnificent hues --
a god, honored
and worshipped
in the pit of my stomach.
His mouth on mine,
I cannot forget.
It is the dream --
the coagulated version
siphoned into an effluence
of lover's and bats
that fly in and out
and around my body.
Gaping holes
where they make their nest,
rest solemnly beneath my skin
to rise again
in the after-birth.
II.
The Ascension:
We escaped our humanness,
found a star and transformed its glory
into our own.
Significance in all things:
Lips pressed against my breast,
the depth of movement
contained
and released within an orgasm.
Holiness beneath the sea,
as it revolts against the shores
purging itself of impurities --
non-linear and fluid.
Worshippers and enemies, who will, in time,
be the same.
(c) Maria Lupinacci
Painting (c) Malcolm Deeley
________________________________________________________________________________________
For the Love of Word
After all this, I will not remember.
In the house, the room reeks of Camphor,
the walls are copper. Theatrical to a degree
but not fully, not in the true essence
of the theater, its complete exaggeration,
scenes recreated and dramatized.
There is a poet I am reading --
he is fighting Jupiter, playing a Gypsy's Cello,
strumming symphonies in allegro --
uninhibited, possessed
Demons are a state of mind
he quotes. I believe him.
We all have our moments --
light and dark, the forever parable
pressed into a page
to later become a rotted rose
marking the time we once lived.
After all this, I will not remember.
In the house, the room reeks of Camphor,
the walls are copper. Theatrical to a degree
but not fully, not in the true essence
of the theater, its complete exaggeration,
scenes recreated and dramatized.
There is a poet I am reading --
he is fighting Jupiter, playing a Gypsy's Cello,
strumming symphonies in allegro --
uninhibited, possessed
Demons are a state of mind
he quotes. I believe him.
We all have our moments --
light and dark, the forever parable
pressed into a page
to later become a rotted rose
marking the time we once lived.
And on this, we build futures,
drink sour wine and recite Rimbaud.
The rich embrace us for our expressionism,
the beauty of nakedness;
smoke plumes rise from our feet
to cleanse their skeletons --
they think us gods.
Love, loss, existence:
the devil dressed in black tie,
limbs and mouth flaring,
innards worn as sequins to dress
up some whore's poem
whose life breeds realization.
Somehow it all leads to deliverance.
(c) Maria Lupinacci
drink sour wine and recite Rimbaud.
The rich embrace us for our expressionism,
the beauty of nakedness;
smoke plumes rise from our feet
to cleanse their skeletons --
they think us gods.
Love, loss, existence:
the devil dressed in black tie,
limbs and mouth flaring,
innards worn as sequins to dress
up some whore's poem
whose life breeds realization.
Somehow it all leads to deliverance.
(c) Maria Lupinacci