Wrapping up an investigation that began in 1996, Britain's Royal Crown Prosecution Service announced that they would not charge the Lesbian and Gay Christian Movement after a complaint by religious conservatives over a hypertext link on their web site to a poem by James Kirkup, which has been agitating the sensibilities of the United Kingdom for the last twenty-one years. The poem was banned in 1976 under the UK's blasphemy laws, and remains banned to this day.
At the center of the controversy is the poem by James Kirkup - a poem in which he graphically describes his lust and love for a dead Jesus Christ, with whom he engages in an episode of necrophilic bliss.
We have chosen to do more than link to the poem, which is now mirrored on sites across the globe. We have chosen to publish it ourselves. We believe this is a perfect example of content that some people might consider "indecent" with an "intent to annoy." Do we publish it? Do we talk about it? Is it a crime? So while we pity those poor bastards in the UK who have yet to shake the Victorian yolk that resulted in the Spice Girls, let us take a moment to realize that, under the provision we are currently challenging in the courts, this poem - nothing more and nothing less - is currently banned in the USA too...perhaps!
The Love That Dares To Speak Its Name
By James Kirkup
As they took him from the cross
I, the centurion, took him in my arms-
the tough lean body
of a man no longer young,
beardless, breathless,
but well hung.
He was still warm.
While they prepared the tomb
I kept guard over him.
His mother and the Magdalen
had gone to fetch clean linen
to shroud his nakedness.
I was alone with him.
For the last time
I kissed his mouth. My tongue
found his, bitter with death.
I licked his wound-
the blood was harsh
For the last time
I laid my lips around the tip
of that great cock, the instrument
of our salvation, our eternal joy.
The shaft, still throbbed, anointed
with death's final ejaculation
I knew he'd had it off with other men-
with Herod's guards, with Pontius Pilate,
With John the Baptist, with Paul of Tarsus
with foxy Judas, a great kisser, with
the rest of the Twelve, together and apart.
He loved all men, body, soul and spirit. - even me.
So now I took off my uniform, and, naked,
lay together with him in his desolation,
caressing every shadow of his cooling flesh,
hugging him and trying to warm him back to life.
Slowly the fire in his thighs went out,
while I grew hotter with unearthly love.
It was the only way I knew to speak our love's proud name,
to tell him of my long devotion, my desire, my dread-
something we had never talked about. My spear, wet with blood,
his dear, broken body all open wounds,
and in each wound his side, his back,
his mouth - I came and came and came
as if each coming was my last.
And then the miracle possessed us.
I felt him enter into me, and fiercely spend
his spirit's finbal seed within my hole, my soul,
pulse upon pulse, unto the ends of the earth-
he crucified me with him into kingdom come.
-This is the passionate and blissful crucifixion
same-sex lovers suffer, patiently and gladly.
They inflict these loving injuries of joy and grace
one upon the other, till they dies of lust and pain
within the horny paradise of one another's limbs,
with one voice cry to heaven in a last divine release.
Then lie long together, peacefully entwined, with hope
of resurrection, as we did, on that green hill far away.
But before we rose again, they came and took him from me.
They knew not what we had done, but felt
no shame or anger. Rather they were glad for us,
and blessed us, as would he, who loved all men.
And after three long, lonely days, like years,
in which I roamed the gardens of my grief
seeking for him, my one friend who had gone from me,
he rose from sleep, at dawn, and showed himself to me before
all others. And took me to him with
the love that now forever dares to speak its name.
