LYRICS

The applications are to blameAll the people do all dayIs stare into a phone (Placebo, Too Many people)

“Take nothing but memories, leave nothing but footprints!” (Chief Seattle)

When rock stars were myths (Sandi Thom, I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker)

Machines were mice and men were lions once upon a time, Now that it's the opposite it's twice upon a time (Moondog)

Time is an illusion (Einstein)

Wednesday, 6 November 2019

Hyborian Bridge 84





Antiauthoritarianism (Pictorial 67) is the primitive reptilian backbone of Quetzalcoatl, god of wind and rain, harvest season, corn dolly






Earth turns her face to the cosmic symmetry that is otherwise lost to the ever-onward authority of a straight-line perspective vision. The Age of Acolytes. Words upon words to substantiate what is a parallel system – the sorcerous system of light.



The words are bolstered by egos that are fed by the perspective illusion. There is no room for doubt because doubt comes out of an “ambiguous symmetry” (CL Moore) that is the cosmos of planets and stars, sun and moon, Artemis and Apollo.



This is the lost world of the lost gods and goddesses of Earth as - in The Plumed Serpent - Christ reaches out to the Mexican Quetzalcoatl. The lost deities are agricultural and regenerative, their backbones are rooted in earth strength, introspective primitivism of wisdom.



The primitive reptilian nervous system that supports the body, that has no ego, that is indomitable. In short, the very thing of primeval strength that modern culture has not, because it is directed at the “clever” head. The “clever” ones (acolytes) are able to take what is an illusory system of perspective (light) and make of it an abstract reality – numerical, monetary.



The very abstraction bolsters the ego of the acolytes in the illusory reality; a weakness that takes no account of the primeval strength of the body in action that is the primitive spinal nervous system – bequeathed at birth.



Their god is Crom. He dwells on a great mountain. What use to call on him? Little he cares if men live or die. Better to be silent than to call his attention to you; he will send you dooms, not fortune! He is grim and loveless, but at birth he breathes power to strive and slay into a man’s soul.. (Queen of the Black Coast)



Strength that is primitive, pristine, that supports the body physically and psychically. Antiauthoritarianism is flesh, blood, bone and sudden death.





The vast power of the upper-body that drives the sword into taloned flesh, splintering bone. We are entering the labyrinth of hunter and prey of the primeval forest; the world that faces the cosmos; the world that raises fear in the ego. Fear because the ego is not part of this world; not part of a cosmos of death and rebirth. Within the warrior is the primitive reptilian force that he, by means of intelligent will, must conquer so it serves to defend the dainty and delicate with naked steel.
When the ego is free of restraint, the dragon-form of impure lusts is also free; devourer of the simple and pure. Allure is all, grace and symmetry are all, the rhythmic sense of being, the power of erotic urge and of searing vision. (Declaration)


The warrior and the hunter are instinctive forces that protect us from proselytisers of sorcerous rule, from weakness. The knight, the priest, the poet (Outremer C8 Weird 8)

What “they” give us nowadays, frankly, is “linear A”(Pictorial 8); the untranslatable language from Knossos that is a list of items in store-rooms at the palace; whereas “linear B” is the Greek of Homer’s Odyssey.

We, as heirs of mankind, are stored as inferior copies of the original – which we still are in our hearts! – because we have lost the mysterious storytelling that connects us with the primitive cosmos. It is this primitive power that Howard has, and thatWeird Tales and other pulp writers have.
So, on that note, to return to Leigh Brackett’s The Long Tomorrow.