Essentially Priapus: A New Priapeia
Feminism. This too shall pass. Nature will have its way after we’ve gone astray. Always has. Always shall. Each thing is as it is made. For instance, Priapus was carved of a living olive tree in the moment of bringing forth fruit, the seed and oil. Fertile and virile, Priapus lives past this country or that, past fashions and fads because he is essential. Smile. Priapus will last.
Lately, well, this past half-century boys have been damned. The cause of damnation. Being boys. Now, boys are damned for not being girls. Why hate a thing true to its nature.
Look around. See. Most of what you see if not all of what you see was made by boys, by boys for love of girls. Naturally. We cannot change nature though we can snip-off parts, can slip bouncy plastic balloons beneath flesh, can fill bellies with sexual serums and dress boys in frillies pink and pretty. And see, boys are made not to make, not to make cities, houses, families, babies.
Simple, really. And true. Priapus, well, soon Priapus will prevail. God never fails, and Father Nature will not be defeated. In his nature. Father Nature masters all. And girls tell in moves, in looks, in fancies. In all ways the will of Nature has its way. We are as we were made a billion years ago. History in whole is in our DNA. We were made before we were made.
No need of telling, though I shall. Girls are favored in schools, have been these fifty years; are favored in employment, have been these fifty years; are favored in redistributions, have been these fifty years; are favored in media, in academia, in law civil and criminal. And favors will continue until the nation fails. Equality opposes quality. Inequality favors failure.
Look, see what lately we have made. Do you notice we are ugly in movies, in print, in city, in school envious, prideful, wrathful and sad. Girls have never been sadder than now they are. Women have never been madder than now they are. Females have never envied more than now they do, and pride is effeminate. Priapus heals all.
The pill, the will, the wantonness till girls become women alone, sick of themselves, ill-used and self-abused. Then, for favor they cry, then die, and Priapus goes his own way happy, neither swelling in pride nor in vanity, but in life. Life gives life in the seed. The pill kills in the evil deed.
In life Priapus shall have his way, shall have his wife, shall have his day. Today, boys neither need nor cede girls. Girls, surprised a boy did not hold the door. Why would he. Would you. No. Thought not. This, a new day, a day the girl has made. Priapus, men, and boys go their own way, away. Wouldn’t you.
This new Priapeia is long overdue. Some hundred years since the translation of Smithers and Burton. This new collection, from Latin to English expands, “swells” you might say, the story of the established god of male membership. Kind, strong, honest, protective, firm when he must be, the sixty-three sonnets of Priapus speak his history, sympathetically.
Heroically bold, freely composed, truthfully conceived, Priapus says his say past the trifles of this day. Life has its force, has its way, indifferent to fashion, to persons who decay, and forgotten, fade away. Look back. See. The past remains, and into the future life will stay when healthy in the way of true girls and of true boys. Praise Priapus.
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Welcome to the Garden of Priapus, male God of Fertility, He of the swelling, the seeding, the blossoming into pleasure. Here you will find sensation, youth, goodness and spirited delight in the stories both ancient and modern, secular and sacred (in that Latin way of worship), pagan, free, forceful, and then there is frivolity, surprise and delight.
Come! Dare, open the garden gate and enter, if you are pure of soul, healthy of spirit, well-disposed in the flesh, inclined to taste the fruit of love, to swoon to sights and sounds, to breath fully the aroma of rose, of lemon and of apple blossom. Open yourself to penetrating translation of ancient authors, of liberty in opinion, of diversity in action, in sensuality of the ear and of the mind, the mind, that most amorous of organs. Attend. Hear. Enter! And enjoy.
This new Pripeia is a supplement to “The Aestheticon”, the second libretti of which, “Galatea: The Statue Comes to Life”, is available through The Studio Press.
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