The maenad kicks off “Mayday! Mayday!” with an orgy of unorthodox sound.
Writing by The Maenad
Art by emoc
An orgy of unorthodox sound.
A wondering querlandt silence broken by the sound of footfalls,
echoes cavorting in the high stairwell
A winter’s mountain pass massacre of screeching
Stay fresh, appear clean as you do the dirtiest things
Never fatigue, always emerging
Corpulent and wet like divine Venus
A not so tame Maenad de Mileaux
Painted in fresh presemenal drip
And old bagged blood.
Riding chrome, a
Nova-99 silicone scale inseminator
A cornucopia of cheap wine and cheaper warts
Wailing and whining words like Wordsworth
Words, our favorite words, smashed
Up and inhaled like the fine pow-
der of a new neon, electron drug.
Precisely the kind of drug we need today
A drug that wins elections, confuses convection
and both overwhelms and dulls
the sense organs into a peak time,
twilight fine transmission, broadcast
straight along the galactic axis
Radio girls and video boys, wireless gurls
and thread-bone bois, all the flesh puppets,
all the toy droids, all of them free flesh and free metal,
all twitching and dancing, transmitting to each other,
a wicked spiral, to another, a conspiracy of dance,
Getting high off our own signal, supplied by
The supple ache and need
Touch is necessary
Strip off your fake skins and
About The Artist
emoc is an enigma
About The Maenad
The Maenad is a long lost LA girl, a six foot one blonde towering over the Seattle skyline.
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