Goddess protect me from nothing
One love always adds more to itself
The servant is the master of masters
Guru is in the crystal moon crying
Buddha’s tear fell to earth and I became her
Lord hear my prayer even when I stop praying
The mother is the all and everything of this mess
Hail the mother light and hold the mother dark closest…
because midnight is coming to count heads soon…
in flesh I made these bones my home. In time I made this space eternal. A broken clock hangs from this wall, like I, who scream “Where have you gone?!” I hang from this cross limp and yet seductive. Time and space where my mother weeps and yet cannot hold my hand, all we ever came for was the sight and taste of her dripping breast, to touch her skin, to hear her breathing in our ear- It makes no sense, the sense of her…the tomb of wedding vows we endure, the honeycomb of alliance between the line and the drop. You still don’t get it do you? You aren’t escaping, walking, reacting, creating…you aren’t doing anything but hanging and watching your thoughts dry hump you while the blood slowly drains from your flesh, leaving only your bones echoing….you used to be here like a leach sucking its own blood. The earth drains into the sound hole, the echo gets filled with your soul. Then you blame it on me. Some sort of security or insult- I am a rock always falling from the edge of the cliff, my existence smashing your plans for a brighter future. Why are you so stupid? Is it because mommy and daddy weren’t very smart? I guess that’s it, we can’t move beyond our creator-and that’s as scary as hell. Daddy wasn’t a genius and mommy wasn’t a brilliant flash of anything but bad dinners and whining. Somewhere stuck in time and beating our brains into bacon…I won’t be waiting in squalor, I’ll be sitting on death holding him still. I’ll be blowing my breath into her eyes. Black hole Sun. Only in.
And nobody matters but me and how I match the face I’ve made….the fires I light, the death I catch. It isn’t a mistake, not an accident waiting to happen. It is a glory beyond bridges that burn. It is a corpse beyond movement that hinges. It is a pain beyond bliss that consumes. It is a shock beyond stillness. It is a heart with no thump. You won’t beat me because I’m beaten daily. I’m a hot and aching wishbone of thrusting- mounted like a mountain range with a sun and moon strung through me constantly trading places. It’s all a big thankful bang from both sides and
still this fire never dies…but hisses the sound of two snakes listlessly and eternally being wrapped into one…peace and quiet isn’t possible, only getting spanked and buried and pierced and poked and smothered and strangled until you burst into HER SPIRALING FLAMES
then you’ll know whose who…
It is even said that the great mystic Rumi summed up his life with these final words of enlightened wisdom,
“I burnt, and burnt, and burnt.”
Hahaha! See what I mean?
give me someone to burn…
It’s never the end of the climax…
so rock me more love socket.
Ashes, mommy.
Sharada Devi
Mommy was melting into a state of detached oblivion
having been sternum cleaved open and heart altered
by strange hands in a strange land
after a long languishing
returned home
never to be the same again
every vital organ which serves to sustain
shirking, shrinking and failing to comply
with their forsworn duty to fulfill
So we came and we saw and we tried to conquer daily
bathe, feed, soften and contend with the omega of your days
but God has his plans
as the sands of your karma run through
though love and care are strong and willing
inevitably 2 years hence
the way of all flesh passed it’s true course
So i watch as all life breath rescinded
from your wan and dwindled visage
no more would You ask me repeatedly, with an other-worldly
quizzical squint of confusion on your now childlike glazed stare
in a room swimming with an over abundance of oxygen
just to keep you alive one more day…
“ Are you apple? ”
So you were gone
– And then there was one-
Who after 5 years
once again succumbed
to what was thought to be purged
only to find the years splurged
on borrowed time
your marker called in
first colon then lungs now brain
un-pretty maids all in a row
too late to ask why
it’s just time to let go
head split open like a melon
sutured back up like the stitches
on the baseball sphere that you held so dear
please don’t fear
Daddy
we will be bedside near
as always
until the end
keeping vigil
You who have now become so small and withered
looking every inch like Gandhi
skin and bones in your death diaper
slipping away in your tiny bed
in your grand house
-and then there were none-
my sister made an appearance at the memorial
urn and ashes and an old army photo on display
she stated her terms of endearment and never
did she even glance my way
my elder Brother cut his long, long hair as an expression of
sacrifice, homage and contrition
my youngest brother did not have the heart to even show
even in death it seems
forgiveness is a work in progress
I sang for my Father
a song i learned from my Kriya Yoga Teacher
“May the blessing of God rest upon you
may His presence abide with you
may His presence illuminate your heart
now and forevermore”
*********
The Paterfamilias was no more
when the ransacking and pillaging by my sister
and her husband was completed
with nothing left to plunder
EVERYONE headed for the hills
Those 3 years had been some of the best years of my life
regardless of the circumstance
it was an envelopment of love in the darkest
and brightest of contrast, color and schematic
It was real and it was real and it was real
and it was past time healed.
i am not looking to be commended for what i did
i would do it again lifetimes over
Afterwards, i walked alone and tried to hold my head up high
and not be afraid of the dark
searching for that road with the golden sky
and the sweet sliver song of a lark
walking on, walking on with hope in my heart…
literally
stumbling and falling too many times along the way
prodded into driving cars
pushed down stairs
slipping into elsewhere
finding myself in hospital
3 times over
but death did not take me still
why?
Other peoples desire for money is a strange and
precarious concept
the love of it is said to be the root of all evil…
Blood from a stone
wishful thinking
great expectations
covet without compromise
Such is maya
In the end
there is nothing else but what we have done
and what we do…
for ourselves and for others
hahahahaha!!!
i’m still here…
attempting to rectify what remains
******
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZThOsCv2Mw