Antinous for Everybody

I worship a dead gay teenager and you can too

Archive for the tag “prayers”

Sacred Nights: Antinous Triumphantus

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O Antinous Triumphant,
Beautiful, Just, Benevolent,
You who have triumphed over death,
Man become God:
May you triumph also over every evil
that binds and hinders human souls,
over fear, over hatred, over bigotry, over greed,
over lust for control and control through lust,
over violence and injustice, over cruelty and malice,
over each and every archon that opposes freedom,
whether chthonic or empyrean,
whether hidden in the dark or veiled by the light,
that we may triumph with you
and traverse the otherworlds as your companions
in your Boat of Millions of Years.
May it be so!

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The Declaration of Antinous the Justified

I am Antinous. I am Osiris. I am Antinous the Justified.

 

I am the one who was lost and found himself.

I am the one who was drowned and breathed again.

I am the one whom Hapi took and Isis gave back again.

Where the red lotus bloomed, I have died,

And now I live again for ever.

 

I have not done the things which ought not to be done.

My heart has been weighed in the hall of Ma’at and pronounced pure.

Anubis has justified me. The forty-two judges have justified me.

Osiris has justified me and given me his crook and flail.

 

I have passed by the white cypress tree and the spring that flows beneath it.

Child of earth and heaven, I have drunk from the water of Memory,

And I know my true name, which is

ASKION KATASKION LIX TETRAX

DAMNAMENEUS AISIA ENDASION.

I have the favor of Persephone, the dread queen,

And with Hades’ blessing I walk in the groves of Elysium.

With the wings and the staff of Hermes,

The Messenger, the Guide of the Dead,

I come and go as I please.

 

Like a kid I have fallen into milk.

Like grapes I have been crushed and fermented and poured into wine.

Like a goat I have been torn apart and devoured

And discovered and assembled anew.

I have found myself and lost myself in the dance.

I bear the thyrsus of Dionysus and wear his ivy crown and leopard pelt.

 

I have ascended on high from the deepest depth.

I have vanquished the archons and mounted the heights

In the Boat of Millions of Years.

I have adorned Aquarius and the stars of the Eagle.

I have shone my light in healing and prophecy like Apollon.

He has given me his lyre that I may play for the Muses.

With Orion and his hounds I have hunted the heavens,

The earth, and the underworld. I am welcome in every place.

 

I have passed the seven gates of Ereshkigal

And returned to shine with the dawn.

I was in the tomb of Jesus and at the banquet of his consummation.

I have entered the domain of Hel and brought forth my bride Melinoe.

There is no place where I have not been welcomed

And no place where my star cannot guide.

I am Antinous Osiris the Justified, Antinous Hermes

The Guide, Antinous Dionysus and Antinous Apollon,

Child of earth and starry heaven,

Beautiful, just, benevolent.

(This was written for the rites held for Antinous at Many Gods West 2017, at the request of Jay Logan.)

The Opening of the Mundus on Election Day

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In the name of Ceres,
goddess of the grain, giver of food,
protector of the poor,
defender of the rights of the plebes in Rome,
in the name of Ceres,
let the mundus be opened.
Let all the spirits fly out.
Let the dead come forth and have their say.
Let the privileged and the disenfranchised,
the rulers and the oppressed, speak their words today.
I call out the Founding Fathers,
Washington and Adams, Jefferson and Hamilton,
Franklin and Madison, and all the rest,
whose words carried greater ideals than they could embody.
I call out with them their wives and their daughters,
the black men and women they enslaved,
Abigail Adams side by side with Martha Washington
and with them Sally Hemings, equally our ancestors.
I call out the native peoples of this land
who saw guns and pestilence,
gifts given and treaties broken,
whose sons and daughters hold the line
against greed and lies to this very day.
I call out the Africans brought here as slaves,
worked to death with less care than animals,
raped and tortured, their sons and daughters
still walking in danger every day.
I call out the Chinese immigrants
who helped build the railroads,
the Irish and Italians who shaped New York,
the Jews who fled pogroms in Russia and
fled again when Hitler came to power.
I call on all the immigrants who came
to this continent looking for freedom,
whether they found misery or success.
I call on all whose labor made money
for greedy men. I call on the children
who worked in factories, losing limbs
and losing life. I call on the women
who held hands and leaped from the Triangle
building to escape the fires, because
the doors were locked to prevent them from stealing.
I call on the women who built guns and bombs
and cars and trucks while the men were at war,
who crunched the numbers and broke the codes
only to be shooed away into the kitchen
when the men came home from war.
I call on Martin and Malcolm and Muhammad Ali
and those who stood with them and marched with them.
Now at last let the disenfranchised dead have their say.
Now at last let them speak against the oppressor.
Now at last let their deaths be seen for what they were,
the spending of human lives to make money,
more for those who have much already,
profit for those whose greed knows no slaking,
power for those whose contempt makes them ugly.
Let the mundus be opened, let the dead come forth,
let the spirits speak freely, and let justice be done:
Let us atone for our past with a better future
where Ceres and Jove together bless the people
with good harvests, clean water, good weather,
abundant food and drink, where Minerva and
Apollo bless education and medicine for all,
where Mercury distributes information and goods
wherever they are needed, where Bacchus
is welcome and Antinous is lauded,
where all gods are honored, but no cult is privileged.
To these blessings I pledge my vote,
I ask the help of the gods, I ask the help of the dead,
I ask the help of the land itself on this Election Day.

POEM: For Panpsyche and Panhyle, their union

965287ebd106e0557b8fbc7efdf389c2The soul in the body and the body in the soul
The masculine within the feminine but
the feminine within the masculine
Transcending gender, transcending unity or disunity
The butterfly and the bull, the axe and the bow,
the sister and brother whose erotic union
is not transgression but consummation, All-Love:
Hail Panpsyche! Hail Panhyle! Hail Panpsyche and Panhyle!

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PRAYER: To Concordia on her festival

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O Concordia,
you who joined Roman to Roman
with the clasped hands of friendship,
I hail you on this your festival day
and beseech you to bring your blessings
to our divided nation and to all nations
where concord is absent. Bless us
to join our hands across the divisions
of gender, of sexuality, of race, of religion,
of class, of privilege, so that in our common
humanity we may begin to make justice
and peace together. Hail, Concordia!

POEM: The Blessing of the Tetrad++

This is a variation on my own Lorica of the Tetrad++. I offer this blessing for all people of color, all African-Americans, all Native Americans, all women, all sexual minorities, gay and lesbian and bisexual, queer and genderqueer, transgender and intersex, all people anywhere who are oppressed. You are Antinous’s people. You are the Tetrad’s people. You are my people.

May Panpsyche guard you with the eagle’s wings
and by ASKION bless your soul with freedom.
May Panprosdexia guard you with the raven’s cunning
and by KATASKION guide you through the dark places.
May Panhyle guard you with the bull’s determination
and by LIX bless your body with health and strength.
May Pancrates guard you with the lion’s roar
and by TETRAX burn away your fears.
May Paneros guard you with the serpent’s wisdom
and by DAMNAMENEUS heal your heart’s wounds.
May Paneris guard you with the fox’s swiftness
and by AISIA defend you in conflict and strife.
May Panpsyche and Panhyle protect your souls and bodies.
May Paneros and Paneris protect your hearts and minds
both in love and in strife.
May Pancrates all-powerfully protect you, and
may Panprosdexia bring you home to the light.

ASKION KATASKION LIX TETRAX DAMNAMENEUS AISIA ENDASION

A prayer for this moment

O Antinous, beautiful, just, benevolent, look upon our nation.
Hear your people who cry out to you for help.
While the rich and powerful profit, the poor and powerless are killing one another.
Here, police have killed Philando Castile and Alton Sterling like rabid animals.
There, police who protected peaceful protestors have been killed.
Your queer and trans people are threatened everywhere;
in Orlando, forty-nine have been slain.
We sorely need your help.

Liberator, stand with us, help us shake off the chains
of racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia
and deliver us from all oppression and tyranny.
Navigator, guide the dead safely to their eternal homes,
and guide the living, the grieving to wise action.
Lover, comfort the mourners, strengthen the protesters,
and bring us all together in equality and love.

O Antinous, may your beauty, your justice, your kindness
be a beacon for us in our anger, our fear, our despair:
Haec est unde vita venit!

POEM: To the God of Thieves

hermes

The infant Hermes from the D’Aulaires’ book of Greek myths

O mercenary, mercurial, commercial god,
guard of the grifter, guide of the hacker,
inventor of music who grew bored
with your creation and rustled cattle instead,
to you on your birthday I offer these words
and a steak dinner, hoping they may
leverage for me your favor.
Khaire Hermes! Ave Mercurie!

A belated offering to Memnon

I had wanted to compose this yesterday, which was Memnon’s hero-feast, and I failed to do so. I still wanted to do it this morning, and so I did write the poem and post it now, late but sincere.

To the hero Memnon
Noblest of warriors, son of the dawn,
fathered by the withered old man
who cannot die, Memnon the Ethiopian,
I salute you. Son of the dawn,
dark-skinned and beautiful,
show us your face: In every
hooded young boy
walking down the street,
in every black man
shot without questions,
in every fine actor
confined to thug roles,
in every angry poet
overlooked, sneered at,
in every poor black man
suffering at the hands of doctors,
in every black hero
forgotten by history,
Memnon, most beautiful,
son of the dawn, noblest
of warriors, show us your face,
and when we ask you, give us
your hand, aid us in the fight.

And while I was writing this, I realized I knew of a living person, a public figure, who perfectly fit my mental image of the hero:

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John Boyega, whom I had not heard of before his starring as Finn in Star Wars: The Force Awakens, but whom I will not soon forget. He can act, *and* he can rock a fedora.

A new poem for Panprosdexia, on the sixth of the month

I cannot see, for my eyes are covered by the dark.
I cannot hear, for my ears are muffled by the dark.
I cannot smell, except for my own fear.
I cannot taste, except for my own death.

Reach out, says Panprosdexia, and take my hand.

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