Heirophilia: The Sea of Sodom

       One hundred and forty-four thousand spirits beaming into Heaven boils down to that handful of people I've been wanting to fuck.  For so long, I wanted to see their flesh unclothed.  My tongue longs to taste the salt of his seed...sugar from her lips and walls.  The weight of these mysteries on my mind tether me to this Earth...too heavy for the Heavenbound to be raptured.
     The Sea of Sodom washes upon the shores of Canaan, bathing its beaches with impure ambitions.  My most carnal desires are unlocked by prophecy.  The promise of unyielding judgment inspires me to forfeit all control; abandon all caution.  The potential of my lusts going unfulfilled intoxicates me.

I am not alone

     The Wine of God's Wrath crashes to the pavement, soaking the naked backsides of faggots and whores.  Intersections and alleys are filled with mass debauchery.  Trembling toes point to the seven stars prophesied by David.  Spurting cum paints the blood red moon white again.  The candlesticks... The cups...  The swords... Are all swiped from the altar to provide a clean surface to fuck upon recklessly.
     Bodies, so many bodies, writhe and copulate.  Pleasures upon pleasures feeds my gluttonous eyes. My body empathizes with the orgasms of my neighbors, shuddering with them.  Dancing.  Moaning.  Laughing.  Bathing in the dark waters of Sodom, I realize, "We've been raptured into Heaven."  Abundant pleasure.  Freedom from fear.  Total extravagance.  This is Heaven.

"Major Arcana" by Jak Flash

Bound Gods

     We love seeing him like this.  His gentle, blue eyes weary from the battery.  His slender, nearly nude body hanging exhausted on a crucifix.  Christ's malnourished belly revealing the abdominal muscles rippling beneath the bruises and scars.  Lo and behold, The Son of God!

There is a soft spot in our collective hearts for masochistic gods.

     Shiva smiles so sweetly.  Pinched between the earth and The Soles of Time, his body is crushed for our sake.  His nude body is the only thing between us and certain doom.  Absorbing the steps of Kali's death dance, Her thirst for destruction is quenched.
     I believe the depiction of these deities are the product of libidinous iconographers.  Looking through the scope of kink, I find it ironic that there is this reoccurring theme.  The bound sacrifice.  The pleasure found in the perishing.  The cheering audience.  Perhaps my mind is in the gutter, but it all sounds like an elaborate, deadly version of "Naked Kombat".
     I can't say for certain why these elements continue to find themselves in sacred texts.  But I do feel the need to experience this for myself.  I believe there is a space where fetish and spiritual practices can intersect.  I believe The Holy Ghost, sex and candle wax can co-exist in a purely religious experience...without fucking a Catholic priest. (LOL)

Art by Sadao Hagasawa

The End is Near

"But realize this, that in the last days difficult times will come.  For men will be lovers of self, lovers of money, boastful, arrogant...without self-control, brutal...treacherous, reckless, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of god; holding to a form of godliness..."

(II Timothy 3:1-5,7)

     When I was younger, I was very interested in the Apocalypse.  My church and Jack Van Impe painted this bleak and perverted time to come, where Sodom resurrects and the world stands at its final hour.  It was great stuff.

American godlessness.

Gluttony and hedonism taken to new heights.

The Mark of The Beast

Decadence and depravity becoming mainstream.

     I've been keeping a watchful eye on our culture.  The lines between man and beast are softening and blurring.  Blasphemy is getting sexier every day.  Either Apostle John's accounts were correct or I'm not the only one inspired by The Book of Revelations.  I, too, find myself pushing the envelope to biblical proportions.  I am always thinking of fresh, new ways to magnify sin until its an abomination.  Again, great stuff.

On the set of Gio Peter Black new video "Revolving Door"

Baptism by Bondage: Part II

[The Prologue]
[Part I]

Bound to the heavens above

Dangling by my arms

My limbs went numb

My wrists are crushed by the weight of my body

A painful parable

     Transforming me into a human chandelier, inertia became his favorite sex toy.  Using my swinging skull to slide across his big cock.  With my jaws opened wide, he swung me back and forth: I was the epitome of objectification.  It was an honor.  Every round, I forced his erection further and further into my throat, sometimes blocking my airways.  Feeling his veins graze my lips...Tasting him...Sucking him...Truly felt like a privilege. 

Thank God for the gift of rhythm

In between beats, I'd take a deep breath in preparation of the big plunge

After enough practice,

I was able to steal a breath from around the giant lodged in my esophagus

     Withdrawing himself from my jaws, I was left to dangle alone.  By this point, my arms had become fading phantoms.  Essentially, I was levitating in mid air.  Apart from my senses and my body, I was in a transcendental state.  The sounds of the chains cascading from above hypnotized me.

     Suddenly, a symphony flooded the room.  A sensuous instrumental began to play from a stereo in his room.  The classical music reminded me of wisps of smoke lifting from incense.  Wrapping his body around me from behind, he began to dance with me.  His gyrating hips made my floating body swirl.  I could feel his erection sliding up and down the sides of my torso.  Tenderness.  Elegance.  Romance.

At that moment

I swear to God, he had achieved telepathy.

  

I could hear him whispering in my mind,

"The way you are now, powerless, is still worthy."

"I'm not that the only one that sees you beyond your body and is pleased."

"Although you're the sacrifice, this is my offering to you."

"The way you are, powerless, is fruitful."

Powerful sentiments filled my mind and spirit

     Us dancing felt incredibly maternal.  I felt incubated.  Being bound and rocking to his movements, I felt reinstalled into my mother's womb.  I was being programmed to believe that I was perfect, even as a hanging piece of meat.  Detaching me from the suspension bar gave me new limbs; oddly, I had to learn how to use them.  My elbows remained locked.  My leather mitts remained Heavenward.  Freedom felt foreign.

I was born again....

Baptism by Bondage (Part I)

[The Prologue]

     A week before meeting with my Ivory Sphinx, he gave me a homework assignment. Simply put, he tells me to, “Send me a fantasy, tell me what you’ve come to expect.” Initially, I was excited. Whenever I get a chance to use my writing as an aphrodisiac, even foreplay; I dive in head first. I write fantasies for a living, I inhabit erotic thoughts and scenes. However, sitting at my laptop, typing then backspacing, typing then backspacing…for some reason, I couldn’t write a word. I was creatively impotent. My genius was flaccid.
     I’ve come to realize that my instincts wouldn’t let me form a plot that could influence the future. A part of my creativity was deactivated in regards to this man. The one and only intention I had been to be totally submissive. Whether it lead to being a servant, slave or punching bag; I wanted to be a silent conductor of his energy.

My instincts were correct

Construction of even a single idea would be futile

What he had in store surpassed my capacity to imagine…

…by far…

     I found myself standing nude and blindfolded, with my hands on head. Pacing around me, I would gather the occasional sensation of him sniffing me, groping my muscles and twisting my nipples. Bending me backwards by pulling my hair, I found balance in my fear of him. I feared that he would find my devotion flawed, my offering blemished.

This combination of fear, forfeit and freedom

Left me transfixed

     Sliding a pair of leather mitts over my hands, he then pinned my fists behind my back. Gear was also strapped around my ankles; the leather…his touch…the chemistry made my ankles highly erogenous. Pressing my face into his chest, I couldn’t breathe. Suckling on his nipples, his bosom was all the air I needed. Sliding my face down his hairy, course torso, I was sent to my knees.

I was face to face to the jeans imprisoning my paradise

Gnawing at the denim, I wanted to free the beauty bulging within

Reduced to a helpless, whimpering puppy

I consumed all I could from his closed fly.

      Oddly, I felt a sense of gratitude as he declined me from my knees to completely prostrate.  To my delight, I was face down upon the altar of his bare feet.  Savoring the opportunity, I ran my tongue between his toes.  In that moment, I felt like Mary Magdalene anointing the feet of Jesus with oil.  Kissing and licking his feet filled me with joy.

Hog tied

Flat on my stomach

I felt truly free...

He detached me from my body

In this realm, in which he sent me

His feet wasn't soaked in my saliva

but my spirit..


(To be continued...)

A Prologue to "Baptism by Bondage"

Because of this experience:

For the rest of my life

I am incapable of feeling unloved

It is an impossibility to feel isolated

I didn’t know clarity and perspective had a scent,

Until I smelled it on my skin.

His immortal touch will linger forever on my body

Even in stillness, our dance is eternal

     Our sex felt wildly religious.  I seriously wanted to dump the contents of my wallet onto his floor and run laps around his bedroom.  I wanted to grab my cellphone and quit my job to become his full time devotee.  This life altering night illustrated that sex and The Holy Ghost are, not only closely related, but conducive to each other.

     I had to break this session into literary segments because there was so much stimuli to sort out and grapple with.  It is really important that I give this tremendous moment justice.  By writing this, I am attempting to label the ethereal.  I am attempting to identify to nameless phantoms.  I am attempting to define the obscure niches of the human experience.

Please note:

Anything I write

Will most certainly pale in comparison to the actual experience...

The set the tone for this series,

I will be using photos from Didio's "Redemption"

It resonates with me as "Baptism by Bondage"

[Part I]
[Part II]

The Bringer of Forbidden Light?

"Be of sober spirit, be on the alert.

Your adversary, The Devil, prowls about like a roaring lion,

seeking whom he may devour."

(1 Peter 5:8)

     I was shaking in my nine-year-old boots.  It sounded as if Pastor Eddy was breathing fire from the pulpit, "The Devil!  He'll show you visions that will stick in your mind!  He'll show you visions and play tunes for you that'll slowly, gently warp your spirit and the souls of your children!  He ain't that little red, horned man!  He's that movie director!  He's that record executive!  He's that entertainer teaching sin through a lullaby!"

     I feared I've already come into contact with this demonic material.  I've already listened to the siren's song.  His preaching pulled perverse, pornographic images to the forefront of my imagination.  I felt terrible because I knew there was no turning back.  My eyes and flesh has been deflowered, my mind was already seduced and twisted.

     As a kid, I couldn't keep my hands out of my Dad's stash of porn.  My vivid imagination did the rest of The Devil's work.  I wanted to be with God and His Holy Spirit.  I wanted a place in Heaven reserved for me.  I prayed for my purity back, for my brain to be cleansed of any unholy thoughts.  I asked God to remove all thoughts of orgies, cock sucking and homosexuality from my mind.  I begged for Him to cure me of my unclean appetites.

     I found Freddy Kruger to be hilarious.  The Boogie Man was too far fetched for me to fear.  But, I was terrified of Satan.  "What if he came disguised as an offer I couldn't refuse?"  I figured he wielded the power to turn people into pedophiles, murderers and monsters.  Furthermore, I was taught that he was the author and steward of everything wicked, evil and inconvenient.

     One day, while studying The Bible, I read some verses that had a strange/beautiful/devastating effect on me and my faith.

"The One forming light and creating darkness

Causing well-being and creating calamity;

I am The Lord who does all these"

(Isaiah 45:14)

     For reasons I'm still learning, I felt a great deal of relief when I read that scripture.  That verse upstarted my freedom, letting me know that God is a part of it all.  Parking tickets, warfare and (dare I say) assault are born from the same Father as bubble gum, blessings and love.  To this day, it still makes sense to me.  When you think about it, every victory means defeat for someone else.  Every blessing falls out of someone else's pocket.  Good and Evil has always been a package deal since the beginning of time.

     Maybe The Devil is a part of the grand scheme?  Maybe he serves a purpose just like everything else?  I've gained great strength through misfortune.  I've discovered truth while dwelling in darkness.  Hell, without him I wouldn't be the brilliant pervert I am today.  Maybe, Pastor Eddy was right!

Hierophilia AND Pecattiphilia

     His scent entered the room before his body; as if, sandalwood and patchouli rolled out the red carpet for his arrival.  A dark, floral foreshadow of what was to come.  Opening the door to our office, we were all surprised.  Surprised by his appearance: wild, curly locks...long, brown beard...a one-piece garment that covered everything but his muscular calves, naked ankles and leather sandals.  Surprised that he reeked of sex appeal: he was young...handsome...almost regal.

     One of my female co-workers approached him with her hand extended, "Hi, welcome to Bridgewater!"

     In the nicest way possible, he rejects her invite to shake hands, "I'm sorry, ma'am, per Islam, I am unable to shake the hands or women.  Out of respect for you and my family, I can only lay hands on my wife."  I've never seen a moment when people were offended and aroused simultaneously.  Indeed, forbidden fruit is always sweeter.

     Reluctantly retrieving her lonely hand, she apologizes, "I'm...I'm sorry."

     He smiles, "Don't be."  I can't take my eyes off of him, I can't keep from deeply inhaling his essence.  I've never been more glad to file, I would've been dazed and confused working with him.  Slightly eavesdropping, I hear him, "The origins of man's heart is black.  Lust occurs very subliminally, by resisting touch, we attempt to nip sinful thoughts at the bud."  He has no idea that he's adding fuel to a forbidden flame.  Or does he?

     He goes on to explain, "I could shake your hands, feeling the softness of your skin.  Without knowing, my mind could start to travel and imagine your touch elsewhere."  I couldn't believe what I'm hearing, he seducing everyone within earshot in reverse.  Shame on him?  Bravo?

     The women in the office were moving differently; there's a little more motion in their hips...more swivel in their steps.  It was a very interesting moment.  I could see that I wasn't the only one that wanted him.  Filing documents into the appropriate accounts, I entertained thoughts of soiling his discipline.  My mind filled with images of cracking him open and taking a deep, deep whiff.  I imagined myself sodomizing his sacred flesh with my tongue.  He has no idea what he's doing to everyone in the room.  Or does he?

     I was shocked to hear, "Do you happen to have a man on staff who could show me?"  Have you ever tried to deflate an erection in thirty seconds?  Forcing myself to relax while adjusting the bulge throbbing in my pants, I prepare for my manager to walk in.

     She's glowing as she asks, "Do you have a moment?"

     "Sure," my best impersonation of cavalier proves believable.

     Walking the grounds with him, all of my sale tactics were tossed out of the window.  We talked religion and philosophy, I gave him a clue, "I'm equally as religious, but on the other side of the spectrum."

     "Excuse me?"

     "Let just say, after an encounter with my work, you'll either develop a better understanding of your own beliefs or walk away willing to try something new."

     Excitement kicks up in his voice, "That sounds interesting, I'd love to read your work."

     Putting up a wall, I refuse to shake his proverbial hand, "You'd have to find it on your own or it isn't meant for you."

     "Hmmm," I made him think...What: I have no clue.

     Returning to the office, I give him my business card with my cell phone number secretly scribbled on the back.  Extending his hand towards me, "Thank you for everything; it's been a pleasure."

     Grasping his soft hand, I smile, "likewise," he has no idea what's coursing through my mind.  Or does he? 

 

The above photography has beem lodged in my mind for months now...

"Tangiers Boy"

A collaboration between photographer Joe Tally and Moroccan model River Viiperi

Erotically explicates what it means to be a male bride

Sensual...Sacred...Seasonally Ripened

I want to consummate our forbidden marriage

Unwrap the fine bridal linen to reveal his young flesh

I want to savor that precious moment

When the pristine is enlightened by darkness

Heirophilia: How long, O Lord?

How long, Oh Lord?

...

How long wilt Thou hide Thy face from me?

How long shall I take counsel in my soul?

(Psalms 13:1-2)

     How can someone so far away see me so clearly?  With nonsensical babbling spilling from my lips, You manage to understand my message.  How is it possible to connect so well with a stranger? 
       Finding warmth in Your Enigmatic Embrace, I fail to find the logic.  I want to see You because You've, somehow, stolen glimpses of me.  The secrets.  The darkness.  The deepest parts of me.

     It causes me great discomfort to know that I know nothing of You.  I wouldn't know Your Face if I saw it.  I wouldn't recognize your scent if the air was filled with it.  Anything apart from your raspy, midnight whisperings would fall far outside of my discernment.  I need to see you.  I need to see those Eyes stare into my soul like I'd imagine.  I need to feel You as You perform the sensual surgery we've discussed.  I need Your Warmth to wrap around me as I penetrate you deeply.

     How is it possible to connect so well with a mystery?  Perhaps, its due to the freedom I feel knowing I may never see you.  Perhaps, it's because I'm honest without the fear of consequence.  Perhaps, it's because I revealed to You all of my ugliness...and You found it beautiful.  With You, I've shed light upon my darkest fantasies.  Through our conversations, we've straightened out my most twisted philosophies.  We've made love over the telephone.  I've had orgasms reading Your Words.  Perhaps, our connection is due to my choice to let you penetrate me so deeply.  Beyond my legs open wide...Beyond the dilation of my darkness...I've allow you to penetrate my mind and soul.    

It is the Glory of God to conceal a matter

But the glory of kings is to search out a matter

As the heavens for height and the earth for depth

So the heart of kings is unsearchable

(Proverbs 25-12)

The above art is from "Illuminati" featuring Arian Levanael.

You can view the rest of this beautiful set:

HERE

A Sneak Peek: "The Letters of God" by VII

 Is it blasphemous? Sacrilegious? Forbidden?

The answer is: Yes.

     I am close to completing a work that is both monstrous and a masterpiece.  I am sure that it will make all that read it feel uncomfortably aroused and passionately confused.  Without further ado, I present to you a taste of "The Letters of God".  It is a piece of spiritual erotica detailing sexual relations with God.  Each chapter is devoted to romanticizing each incarnation of Our Heavenly Father...The Lamb of God...Our Mother Earth...the list goes on.

     My purpose of writing this composition isn't to reduce God to the level of flesh, but to exalt ourselves parallel to Its Divinity as well as highlighting the intimacy of The Most Indwelling God.  I attempt to explore the different relationships we have developed to this All-Encompassing God...Please comment and tell me what you think...

Chapter E

     I met you at the altar of my temple: stomach emptied, trembling; I could sense your thirst for substance. The essence you hungered for was unknown to you; but, once tasted, it could be recognized. On the stair path to my throne, your body peels open before me. A sweet, inviting warmth begins to pour from your spreading availability.
     In an odd way, your famine is beautiful; the way your flesh cling tightly to your hips…to your ribcage…to your collarbones. I am aroused by it. Your starvation sends my seed leaping from within my loins to your aid. The way your fingertips cling to your world…to your flesh…to your faith, draws me closer towards you. Your delicate dangling awakens the sleeping giant below.

The broad bridge from my being lengthens to rescue you from the ledge of life.

     Crawling closer, your bruised knees melt into each step until your head finds rest in my lap. I stroke the side of your head, grazing your clinching jaw with my fingers. Your hunger heightens. Your voice whimpers. Growing longer, a mere morsel of my nature presses against your lips. Your thirst strengthens. You begin to salivate. My seed prepares itself to spill forth.
     Unveiling myself to you, I shed my honorable garment to present my holy flesh. I reveal my hidden places, anointing the air with its aroma. Devouring me with your eyes, the sight of my body proves to be both bitter and savory. You fail to see the similarity. You fail to see the reflection. You find me both beautiful and brutal. Unbeknownst to you, all of this is yours to have…and to become.

Little do you know…

My pleasure serves as a mirror, sending every bit of praise back to the worshiper

Every inch of praise filling your mouth brings satisfaction to your soul

Every drop of nectar wetting my scepter nurtures your flesh and bones

Each generous stroke from your hand returns unto yourself a hundred fold

Losing yourself on your knees will give you the strength to stand

   
     Laying you down as a sacrifice upon my altar, your warmth grows hotter. With tears in your eyes, you invite me into your heart and body. You invite me into your comfort. To become whole, you must first be split apart. In order to be reborn, the angel of destruction crouches between your legs. Lifting your feet towards Heaven, your backside becomes a shade for Hades. Angels gather around us to witness your burning offering.

With the true Tower of Babel, I start to penetrate through your center.

     Breaching your flesh, stretching your sensitivities, you begin to mourn and gnash your teeth. Your true nature shines before me as blessings and curses fly from the same tongue. The formless void in your heart sharpens with every thrust, with every strike from my rod. The darkness within you begins to sparkle as I delve deeper into you.

Let there be light!

     Before The Kingdom of God, your strength is ignited and magnified. Your true self emerges. Elegant, Exceptional and Ever-Evolving are mere glimpses into the definition of the spirit within you. Your skin becomes coated in splendor as you transform pain into pleasure.

Drunk off the twin spirits of bliss and agony, your moans send ripples through my temple.

     Dipping your toes into the firmament above your head, screams, laughter and cries become united. Freedom, bondage and unconsciousness are tangled around your twitching legs. Cymbals clash, trumpets sounds and angels rejoice as my floodgates break open. The seed meant to save nations fills your cup and overflows onto the temple’s floor. The walls tumble down as I begin to bathe you in milk and honey, showering you with the pearls.
     In the light of our revelations, my mysteries lie bare against your throbbing truth. Kissing it with My Word, I urge you to take it out into the world. On the verge of exploding, I urge you to love the world as I have loved you in this temple of worship. Go forth, my lover, seek out the weak and hollow.

The E is for Evangelism