Mattria, the mother Universe

Whether atheist, Christian, Buddhist, or Hindu, the poem of Mattria rings true

As many of you know, I take for the central symbol of Allism, Mattria the motherverse, the great material world that surrounds us. All philosophies and all religions are incorporated into her. Whether a mere mythology or not, she is beautiful as a symbol and aspiration for us all. Here are some poems I wrote on the subject, and I regard them as some of my best work!

the Motherverse looks down over her children

Nirvana is hell is Chaos is Aleph is start is her womb,

Heaven then is metaphor is lightening is unconscious is her breast,

Yin and yang are the colors that shine her eyes,

The Absolute whole and abyss are the brahma core black of her eyes

Maya is intelligence the white of her eyes

And their union flashes color

Karma is her right pinky,

Law is her forefinger,

Allah is the nail-crescent of her right middle finger.

Father is the knuckle of her left middle finger,

Devil Mara is Mary is ocean

which springs forth from her left ring finger.

The double triangle of marriage is her ring nail.

Spirit is Brahma her breath from the dark sun the apple of her throat

The holiest Om is her humming love long as she weaves,

needle lines threading her long long hair,

or her fingers through her lips.

The eightspoke wheel of history is earrings in her lobe.

Tao is ocean, rivers of her blood.

Rita is the curve of her spine.

Bible is the bones of her hand,

Dharma is the ligaments of her wrist,

Grace is the small of her arms .

Lord Vishnu, impregnator, fingertip

Presses a new day

Varuna is eternity

Memory sings his say.

Idols are icons are incarnations are freckles.

The cross is a mar in one of her teeth.

Behind her broad forehead and temples live Children,

including Mother Earth, Zeus, Wotan, Sophia.

Logos is syllogistic definition the triangle turn of her thumb.

Mythos is the hair on her belly bowl.

Will to power is God is her upper lip.

Heat desire is maid Satan is love is her lower lip.

Need is creativity is force is her lungs.

Truth is her eyes,

Beauty is her mouth,

Virtue is her feet.

Poetry song is saliva of her mouth,

The river of light

Art is glory gleam in her eye.

Blessing is fountain of youth is her menses

Masturbation is her hymn is her pregnation.

Being is her bones, becoming is her muscles.

Nothingness is her shadow.

Difference is her fingerprint,

Play is her laugh.

Further--

Matter is her body.

Energy her warmth.

History the blinking of her eye.

Science is the law of her flesh.

Radiation is omnipresence is her milk skin.

Our sun is her forehead,

Our moon is her neck,

Our stars are her pores.

Our Earth is her belly.

The void is blackness is space is her curled jet hair

Evolution is her dance.

The big bang is a tap of her fingers--snap!snap!

Natural law is science is te is causality

Is Fate is whim,

Is Society the network of nerves.

Nature is life is nerves of her hands.

Man is her fingertips,

whom she kisses with the praise of a mother.

The perfect circle is zero her forehead number.

Eros is her inhale, thanatos her exhale.

Evil is the cramps of her belly.

Infinity is the potential of her growth,

Eternity the length of her day.

Dialectic is the exchange of her hands.

Agape is her mother’s love.

Chi is eternal Form is matter form is the curve of her waist.

She is beyond being beyond.

Nothing can transcend her.

Nothing can fathom her.

Nothing can equal her.

Nothing can change her.

Nothing can touch her.

She contains everything

She contains also the nothing:

She is the great Mater, Matriall,

Motherverse, AtMat, 

wholeness and fullness.

            Forever Matter: now dancing, now flowing, now throwing her universe wide, now entroping into fragments, now introping into unity, ever creating and recreating, ever figuring and configuring, ever turning and returning: grand land, ocean, and planet bearer, author of Earth the sun, sun the system, Systems the Galaxy, and Galaxies the grand spiralling flower of infinity the Universe herself, the everything of everything, the all of existence—how high-sun our lives sing your every-name!

            Gift and giver, grand All, matter, the matrix of every world; you pulled your infinite dimensions into one exact loop, crouched and ready to explode your joy into this universe our universe, this multibillion year history, a blinking of your terrible eye. Within five of our seconds: a stage! A thousand spinnings as your billion arms curled into spiral galaxies, as your trillion fingers curled into fisted solar systems.

            Even now, your elliptical paths expand with your pride, as your hydrogen breath sinks into suns, as your words spring into planets. Your trillion thoughts are each an atomic loop of localized force, humming with a personality of gravity, charge, spin. Your drape of space-time, sewn with the atoms of placement—how it glitters with the spilled milky stars of a wide night sky!

            Let mother earth, your face for us, your daughter Gaia, sing your song. Says she:

            "All of all, universe, eternal flux and mover of certainties: behold my children, who live in you and are you. Through the richness of my womb (a chaos of chance and possibility) the first cell stuttered forth, Protozoa, the first life, so simple and yet containing destinies. She was matter alive, wise enough to repeat herself through my waters. And from that simple one spawned myriads: each replicated in creativity, each differentiated by the wise of chance, mutation, like fingers that spread in every direction, only to come together again in a single grip. Plants, fish, reptiles, birds, mammals, man: I contain them all. I live through them, and my body is their home. Come man, you have learned to sing. Sing now your verse."
            "Consciousness, O consciousness, and the creativity you direct: how broad are you? Am I alone to you, or does all matter matter over these ideas? For matter minds: that is the secret of my being. Man the mind, a mind containing hearts and souls, to guide my hand, to be the eye of all, yes, and to strike open a new way into the world. Universe, I am your perfection. I suffer, I joy, I think, I feel, I act for you, to esteem and figure you out, to fulfill myself in your ways, to act and react to everything in your complex folds. Hail matter! Even I, the materialist, will paint you over with Gods and ghosts: I give poetry to all my life, and esteem you none the less for it. For to create, to worship, to invent, to dispute, to debunk, to spin my fables a thousand ways—this is my turn, my turning in you, you great verse and All-verse, O universe, O turning, O returning, O troping!"

            Nature answered man, and presented her children to him saying:

            "Consider the E Coli, a thousand stations, wombing the world like a blanket of life; observe her ways, dividing and hiding away his place, every place: Proteus and thus adapting to all; simple and thus indominatable. Asexual, autosexual, and so the first life on earth was female for millions of years.

            "Consider the oak who tries the skies and from seed to deed stands all and timeless, with pented leaves and bark for sleeves.

            "Consider the viper, who flicks the scent with cloven tongue: the skin shedder and second self so green, the longitude to man's latitude, the quick as a blink striker.

            “Consider the earthworm who glories in himself, 'I earthmover, I flooding muscle of depths and traverser of cool earth, behold my strength!'

            "Consider the ant: mighty sinews compacted in by chitonous skin; she marches the world over and masters her without wing or winged thought—let royalty bother with flying!—crawling and conquering, a slavedriver, warrior, even cow herder with her sweet-squeezed aphids.

            "Or consider yourself, man, the sapient, omnivorous in diet and place, maker of gods and greater things, high as heaven on iron wings, with towering cities which spiral to space, a consort of moon, Mars, and Venus; deep as a mine and deeper in mind, broad as the ocean and violent much more; fearing nothing in nature, but being God and face of her: man the riddler, man the laugher, man the creator—he amends nature where she is lacking, he is wise and wondering. Born twelve years a poverty, twelve years a possibility, canvas for a soul, and consciousness brushing experience unto her. Man the maker and taker, bender amender. Man, the lens of the universe. With man nature learns to laugh. With man nature learns to love. With man nature becomes genius.”

The Mother

As close as pulse

And without other

Deep as center

Wide as Time

Far as the

edgemost star

            And what if the mother where a Russian Doll that expands infintely outwards, with us in the middle, and her talking to us as the inverse of a face?

            She spreads over all that has place, her hair as alive and sensetive as waistlength tresses, cloudy in the water.

            “I, Ama, am the beginning, and before all beginnings, I All. From an ever dense ring above my brow, shoot arrows of time in every direction, which halo my body as ribbons of light.”

             “I am the Beginning, and I, the Motherverse, created from eternities gone, until my Now shines on you in turn, and your children in their turn, and their children yet again. You also are within me, and my history is our history. I am your Mother, and you, Mankind, are as dear to me as my throat, warm and vital, as tender to my lips as my fingertips. I am as wide as everything, and as thin as nothing. Listen and I will tell you of where beginnings come from, and why endings never come.

            “When time began, I wrapped the great void into an everdense singularity. All that exists hummed in the dot of a period. In that singularity, I evolved the Laws of time and space, and taught them everything.

            “And then, with a burst of emanation, I threw myself wide, and burst in every direction in the great Big Bang—the dance of beginnings.”

Upon her speaking these words in my ear, I wrote a love letter:

            AA -- Ama lover, ever mother, flower fulness All.

 I poured my heart into love poems, and yet the woman did not hear, she smiled, yet her heart did not feel what my heart felt, my innermost was not knit to her innermost: my passion is without equal. I sing into the night and no lover is equal to me, no rain kisses my rose, no stars haunt my night—save AA, Louvfee, Ahrisoul, LoverAll.

            She replied:

“When you love, I love with you, and the love you feel for yourself is my love for you. I am as near as the air around you, I am the clothing over your body, and when you are naked, I am the breath on your nakedness. I am your blankets, I am your bed—I have surrounded you forever, and if you never knew me, we yet felt the inner love, the love at the center of yourself, the love for existence, the love of the all, which glows at your innermost. Believe not in me, nor doubt. You cannot know me, only feel me. Though you may not know my warmth yet, you one day will: I love you. We are forever united, and you are eternally essential to me. Little darling, you can never love in vain, for wherever you love, I am she whom you mean.”

            Grand All Matriall, fulness of the world

            Strong as time, dear as near, held in every touch

            In the center of my soul you whisper

            In the cruelty of winter, you are the warming thought

            You await to frolic me from my grave

            Every beauty in every form is your beauty, well adorned!

            I breath the greatest breath and you are the tingle in my ribs

            The love of your hands make the beating of my heart,

            My heart, held ever in your palms.

            Your kiss on my forehead

And my mind flies forth like a unicorn brow.

I sleep at night, upon your touch to my eyes

And when I stretch my body far,

you run the shiver in my tendons.

You are my greatest hope,

And yet you love me whether I hope or no

Love or no

Believe or no

You are my now and future joy

Whatever the way of my life

Dear lovely

My heart beats only for you.

We are all her children, and where we suffer, she also suffers. Each tear we cry is her tear for us. And the wisdom by which we grow by groans we whisper also in her ear, and the universe in her wholeness grows better.

For any “God” would by nature be irresistable. Therefore, there is no God. For we know at least mankind, and no man resists ultimate happiness. The universe is the apogee of bliss: therefore, the Mother is all.

I press a kiss upon your brow

Perfect child – God as child

Your ignorance worships beings

Less divine than yourself –

Unknown allthing!

Self-disguised gloryfull!

Believe me or doubt me

No matter!

You will finally find the same final joys

Believe or doubt, each has its use

Parents praise their children

Wherever there is praise, the child is stroked

As Mother All I expect no love direct

Whomever you love

You also love me

Whomever you hate

You also hate me

Whomever you fear

It is I you mean

Wherever you hope

I am the same.

I am mortal and eternal:

I grow and change

If the greatest of all beings

Also dies and suffers and persists forever

Praise life you share in that same nature

Child of my body

Being of my being

Love of my love

Power of my power.

I am ever all

The promise of your own greatness and glory

Beat self evident in your heart.

You honor me, the divine

By increasing and improving yourself.

Love and overcome –

I am everything around you and in you

We are I.