Fucking gods

Going through this and that, I came across an interesting poem by James Kirkup. It's called 'The Love That Dares Speak' and you can read it at http://torturebyroses.gydja.com/tbrkirkup.html if you like.

Very amusing, though it should be hardly surprising, that some guy writes a poem, in first person, posing as a Centurion who fucks Jesus, or just the body, after he has been crucified. You are free to make your own judgement, but to me, the poem hardly reads like some sick necrophiliac fantasy. It speaks of much love, devotion and perhaps shame even. Or so I think. Maybe the writer was just taking the piss, who knows?

Anyhow, it reminded me of Mirabai. Back in the 16th century, she was devoting her mind, body, soul to her eternal husband, Krishna, who she adored more than anything else, definitely more than her real-life husband who anyway died in battle. She composed many many bhajans, or hymns, eulogies to her beloved master. Even her writings often crossed that line where erotic began.

What is this phenomenon? Abandoning the self wholly, down to your basic needs like the carnal, to the ethereal, the divine. How does that work? Do these people know things that we ordinary mortals don't? Do they have mind orgasms? You know how they say that the brain is the largest sexual organ we have, right? But surely, this is not what they mean, do they? No touch needed, not even visual stimulus, in fact, no stimulus other than that in your head. WOW.

Maybe this is the kind of stuff that led certain religions to impose celibacy on its preachers? You know, maybe all padres are meant to be fantasising about Jesus Christ's 'tough lean' body, triggering intense orgasms that leave the entire church soaking? And not relieving themselves with kids instead?

On that note, was Jesus gay? A debate for another day.