{"id":2267,"date":"2014-04-17T15:45:41","date_gmt":"2014-04-17T15:45:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/?p=2267"},"modified":"2015-04-09T17:44:59","modified_gmt":"2015-04-09T17:44:59","slug":"venus-cult-poem-by-jay-houska","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/venus-cult-poem-by-jay-houska\/","title":{"rendered":"Venus Cult. Poem by Jay Houska"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"1465132_10200657370311496_1126369218_n\"<\/a><\/p>\n

today’s sunrise was uploaded from a floppy disk,
\nand the wharf carried the same smell of fish
\nfrom the Mississippi,
\ndecaying in splendor as their guts
\nreplaced graffiti in the gulf.<\/p>\n

it was an old Tuesday,
\nthe kind where God hanged meat from the hooks of His Butcher Shop
\nand Eddie smoked his last cigar.<\/p>\n

we, too, can marry, he said.<\/p>\n

i recall the dawn of that day, tucked amongst the bricks
\nof the slaves’ quarters,
\nmasked behind the draping ivy,
\nthe lone bird of paradise that stood so proudly erect
\nin the gardens
\nof The Madame.<\/p>\n

we were shipmates,
\nwe were playboys.<\/p>\n

the sun’s first rays elongated like a spirit
\nand soon the drapery was covered in light’s blood
\nlike a shadow.<\/p>\n

i am awake now.<\/p>\n

\/\/<\/p>\n

it was true,
\nwe were here to worship Venus;
\nher hands pale with indifference ,
\nher eyes<\/p>\n

worried like the size
\nof Pompeii, the day that it
\nwas swallowed.<\/p>\n

beyond her stone, grey stare
\nshe knows that we are biding time in this city
\nwith whiskey and old cologne<\/p>\n

overthrowing the holy men and scribes
\nwho have long since traded their shrouds
\nfor automatic weapons,<\/p>\n

who have long since forgotten the scent
\nof Gethsemane,
\nher hollyhocks and poppy
\nbreath.<\/p>\n

instead, there is the stale putrid air
\nof fish, and the meth labs
\ndown the road.<\/p>\n

we were fools’ gold.<\/p>\n

the lights of the neon strip bathed our faces in the
\nshameless glow that emits
\nfrom computer screens, late each night
\nwhen no one Else is
\nwatching.<\/p>\n

their faces contorted,
\ntheir bodies contorted,
\nall to the rhythm and
\npulse<\/p>\n

of the Venus Cult.<\/p>\n

so sensuous, the way we staggered through the streets,
\nlaughing with anchors tied to our limbs
\nand hearts,<\/p>\n

each
\nso narrowly escaping.<\/p>\n

——<\/p>\n

Biography:<\/p>\n

Born to a family of Bohemian poets in the outskirts of Chicago, Jay Houska is a poet, artist and photographer who explores the spiritual realm of art through themes of southern gothic Americana and Plath- like dreamscapes that cause the reader to immerse themselves in his own vision of the world. He plays the character in many of his poems, though often told from an outside, observant perspective, establishing his own mythology that anchors itself in his earlier works.<\/p>\n

Houska’s poetry may be found in his published collection, “Sainthood” (2010), that features the life cycle of an era, and the lucid shadow of dreams in which it was lived. His sophomore effort, due in late 2014\/ early 2015 sees the maturation of this initial collection through poems such as “Venus Cult,” who carries off the prophetic images cast in his 2009 work.<\/p>\n

With over ten years of writing behind him, Houska attempts to delve deeper into his own aesthetics and publish pieces that are only driven by what he believes to be a manifest, spiritual pulse alive in every work that was meant to be written. Anything short of this nature is to be discarded, and left in the multitude of journals that litter his closets. The end product? A poem that has its own breathe and perspective, and is a living entity of its own.<\/p>\n

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today’s sunrise was uploaded from a floppy disk, and the wharf carried the same smell of fish from the Mississippi, decaying in splendor as their guts replaced graffiti in the gulf. it was an old Tuesday, the kind where God hanged meat from the hooks of His Butcher Shop and Eddie smoked his last cigar. … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":2268,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[540,43],"tags":[18,136,3],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2267"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2267"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2267\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4020,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2267\/revisions\/4020"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2268"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2267"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2267"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artvilla.com\/plt\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2267"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}