View from the Mortal Portal: Gyn/Ecological Activism


Psych Love1

The Baby-Hole, her baby-hole!
Turn back before you lose your soul.
Those walls of pink, those gates of pearl
grant entrance to each boy and girl
who come through this organic portal:
newly-born and merely mortal.

Mystery to be dignified—
explored, adored, objectified:
the baby-hole’s expanding chasm,
promising celestial spasm,
is limned in deliquescent love
and fits the soul as hand in glove.
Beware her tantalizing pull
where poetry turns vaginal.
From depths profound, God can create
(where man would merely masturbate,
hitting Mother Nature’s high note
as the gamete turns to zygote).
Semi-seconds’ spurting passion
years of living baby fashion –
after pleasure’s jest, gestation
thus augments the population;
teenage dads recalibrate,
unsure just what to celebrate.

Yet, if they knew the daring risk
their sperm endure, they’d slip a disc;
to realize what threatening odds
confront these flagellated gods:deathstarwars
(see Luke in Star Wars, [number IV]
battling fascists in the war
alone in the zone to shoot the shot
that blows the death star up. Let’s not
miss out on noting, in this theme,
life’s true conception. So the team
of X-wing pilots flew the run,
eliminated one by one
save Luke, who penetrated deep
the death-star’s ovulated keep
and overcame the egg’s defense
and hit the mark. It all makes sense.
The spheroid bursting in his sight
depicts Conception’s glorious might).

Therefore, show the matrix honor.
Shoot and leave—your star’s a goner:
nurture growth while life allows you,
while your star can still espouse you.

Seek her core of hidden gnosis
don’t just set off cell mitosis…
not, that is, unless you are sure
that the three of you won’t end up poor.


‘Cause St. Paul said so – OK?

But concerning the times and the seasons, brethren, you have no need that I should write to you. For you yourselves know perfectly that the day of the Lord so comes as a thief in the night. For when they say, “Peace and safety!” then sudden destruction comes upon them, as labor pains upon a pregnant woman. And they shall not escape.

[I Thessalonians 5:2,3 ]

“For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now. Not only that, but we also who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body.” 

[Romans 8:22,23]

Let us then go forth, with Paul of Tarsus (and all those he claimed to speak for), into the convulsing uterine shudderings of this imminent birth. Let us behold, together, in utter theological clarity this first spasm of contracting pangs as the great cervix now reaches maximum dilation. Do you hear it brothers and sisters? Do you hear the the unceasing groaning throughout every level of the fallen creation? It is horror just to listen to it for a second – he said the WHOLE CREATION groans and labors. (One wonders: does it ever STOP?) Let us tremble with the whole creation into the bloody throes of the threshold of emergence from the mother’s dark birth canal into true life, into the harsh light, into the ever-imminent Kingdom of God. The waters have broken and here it comes now – wrapped in bloody placenta and yes St. Paul – it’s ALWAYS a crisis of birth – all the time, right? Isn’t this what you meant? The poor creation – she’s not even sure if she will make it. She’s biting on a towel – oh how undignified she looks – her legs all splayed open as the new creation begins crowning… She (this present creation) now wishes now she had had the epidural. She’s grunting and sweating as she pushes the thing out…what is it? She’s whimpering and screaming at once.

PUSH now… push HARDER

1,2,3  PUUUUUSH  here it comes !

Oh my GOD – she’s metaphorically giving birth to allegory.

 St. Paul is the midwife – but who’s the DADDY ?