It’s what’s the point of pointless searching, it’s what’s the trip, where’s the cutting board, whose going nowhere? TRIPLESS TRIPPING BOHEMIAN SADHU. Nobody needs to get hurt, just forgotten. You, the trip, magic mushroom ride. Magic mushroom eyes. I knew everything and I saw the great one smiling at me. I found out about trips and alien DNA and I found out about why we shouldn’t drink monkey blood or reptile anything. We left New York.


We leave everything, I always have. I must continue dying, I see this deep inside my view master bones. We leave and hide out under trees in jungles and deserts. We live in giant beautiful houses and then we live in a tent. We aren’t afraid to wander, we are gypsies dancing the dance, celebrating the elusive gods, drunk on the psychedelic sky.


We give it all up, to be free from broken things, like fear and attachment and postures such as down dog. It’s these rainbow wing, that keep the skin boat afloat. Sadhu of America Bhagavan Das the original God father of heavenly sin, he’s really a lion with a rainbow beak. He’s really a gandharva. I’m really just a gopi. We have a harem, a castle, a wet cardboard box. Stuck nowhere in the rain, pennies fall and paradise sprouts from the faithful. We ride on a magic carpet, there is nothing here…but this rainbow song. Be free, let go, be nothing for awhile. Be someone nobody sees, be a bright animal under a tree. Let it go, forest dweller, let death go deeply into your veins. There is no home but the holy.


The holy means unkempt and ludicrous. The holy means unadorned and bruised. The holy means feet under river water, on morning grass. The holy means a muddy body and dandelion greens for breakfast. The river is home. Sleep on a bag of bones, forget service. Eat death like rainbows, forget good causes. Spike the water with arsenic, forget holding on to the coming of Krishna. The body bag is here now and we’re in it if we hold still in that neighborhood for one more day…a corpse in a Prius. I would thrash until I was free if I were you because that’s how butterflies get out of the prison they made, it’s time to fly, high high high.

You like Whole Foods that much?


Poison, this serpent’s poison lifts me higher every time. The way out is through. Through what, is what we leave…we leave the “what?” poison that doesn’t turn to gold, this alchemical kingdom of earth…is our trip, find the kaleidoscope, find the “why?” in pursuit of the word, beauty, somehow held in a less form fitting way, but loosely like a fluffy cloud that brings peace. And under the warlock trees and the blue wilderness calling, inside the witch’s moon music and her sandalwood skin, the bright angel star is found.


Shiva, the sadhu. Nameless without any religion or caste. Unborn without any clothes or opinions. Just a snake spiral and a prayer wheel spin, just a deep sigh before dying into the emptiness of just another one of her lucid opal moments…

And so he does this and he makes messes that I clean up, wax and ash mostly. And I do whatever I want, whenever I want, and he just lets it all hang out while I paint castles in the sky all afternoon and name myself nothing again and again…

Sadhu in paradise, nobody said it would be easy to take it easy, although he does make it look effortless…



He always says “Don’t worry about a thing…every little things gonna be alright.”

I think his way is the sacred highway,

the sky way, the way I want to die way.
Sharada Devi


  1. When the sun comes up where I live there’s a light that brings in a rare mix of moon and sun and star that if not seen in a millisecond is forever gone until the next start of the morning of tomorrow.

    Such busy work today unplugged it all and yesterday forgot cell phone
    — like to see how long can go without using a cell phone. Good for about 48 hours then a mild panic sets in and have to check something email, voicemail, text … make a call … And yet, keep slowly closing down more of the outside world little bit more each day — not missing a thing returning to silence and more inner stillness. Even my daughter feels it and comments these days how she likes quiet and that meditation is good for the soul. We like to go deep into the woods.

    With all the excavating and letting go mediations come active and dream like … in mediation see self as a standing tall building like a compilation of the eiffel tower and the Empire State Building and it’s more of the skeleton of the building of this body that holds everything up. It’s as if this scaffolding holds up all those around and this building is the scaffolding for others. Standing and looking down as if as the traffic and movement on earth goes by, this building that’s tall and deep in the earth and in the heavy storming rains. The bird’s eye view opens to a wide lens of shifting out of being in the thick of things and the distance adds a way to have the long over due full breath and the height of this structure feels like an archetype of moving away from the looping of DNA bullshit karma drama and freely step away.

    Lost contact with most people as can’t be the carrier of their wounds and it’s become too much to bare and now friends are trees and colors in nature and sky and moon and star.

    These last few days there is freedom and relief and space.

    This me now as a building looking down this building that has been constructed by others projections and dreams and wishes … people love to project onto me and mold me into their own archetype and now the building is me and I’m now standing alone as if the building has taken a life of its own and let’s all the engineers know that although they created the building the building now as a life of its own.

    I as a building stand in the rain with my hands over my heart looking down at all the ant size movements of people in cars or walking fast to get to shelter. The rain is hot and heavy and as it falls closer to the earth is cools and feels like ice. It’s stormy and the rain falls heavy and hard … everyone’s getting wet and it feels cold and hot.

    And there’s this happiness that comes with feeling free and this shift of will no longer hold things up for others and let it all go inside and outside right now standing in the hot cold rain and welcoming every blessed drop feels like a wet baptism.

      1. It’s been nothing but lightening and
        Thunder for days now,
        As I clean out the basement.

        Thoughts come and go
        Fleeting and wiped away
        Nothing to win and nothing to lose.

        No structure to hold on to
        Done rescuing or serving others

        1. Thank you for the pretty sweet angelic
          presents in the mail. So pure and light
          like the Virgin Mary as a child…

          1. ⭐️💖⭐️💖⭐️💖

            a call to simplicity
            in end what will be true
            only blueness of you
            pure sky


          2. that’s what I was thinking…
            blueness of you, blue sky
            free to be free…

            God bless the fearless blue eyes!

  2. i keep forgetting what the name of today is – what day of the week it even is
    “they” say it’s supposed to be a day about remembering
    i think i will call it Holy-day
    because it sure feels like it
    swimmingly serene
    and now a second post
    a double shot day
    you going from point A to point B
    in a zigzag
    in a few hours
    i’m liking it!
    i have always had this picture in my head of the 2 of you leaving somewhere
    and going somewhere else ( well of course ) but the picture is of you driving away from
    pulling a small box-type u-haul trailer filled with nothing but murtis and statues and holy photos…
    Nothing more – having given everything else away.
    btw – just a gopi ?

    1. you’re exactly right…
      and yes, moods like clouds…
      I never get involved, I just
      write them down and move on…
      unstable stabilized, everyone
      takes me so seriously!
      And I hope so also,
      because I mean every word,
      Cannibals, etc…it’s all there.

  3. I recently took a student teaching job doing after school music lessons for grades k-6.. the song we’ve all been practicing is three little birds. Pretty cosmic..

    You are the air within the breath. You are the green that paints the leaf. You’re the intent of heat and destruction within the flame. You who knows so well.
    Thanks so much.

    I feel the beauty and inspiration from your guys depth of freedom. It reminds me when I was homeless on the west coast. It’s a real thing going out like a rolling stone not knowing where when or what your next meal will be.. but always surviving – always finding another soul in your situation – learning from the teachings all around gifted from nature and faces – falling asleep every night under the stars, sometimes in a tree. It took a while for me to adjust back to living in a house for a while there, now I like it fluffy I guess.. I do miss the road.

    Always praying.
    Om gan ganapte namaha

  4. Ethereal light dakini , floating serenely between atmosphere and space,
    Seeing this gave me so much happiness….my heart is flying with you……
    On the Way…. to that crystal clear and free…..HIGHest of Ways.
    Breathing deeply… sigh* Ahhhhh…..
    The bird is the word.
    Thank you
    Kamala Devi

    1. and you are lotus eyes
      beautiful goddess dancer
      and I want to see your moves…
      see you dancing in the breeze of god

  5. So the truth is you are her cousin and she`s not coming back. Thats why i find you to be the one all along here, all of them. I didnt say anything because a demon is what a demon does. So i just keep reopening the wound until its unrecognizable what caused it. Holy scar tar black hole sun lung cant be turned pink by an my last act. Turn me back into me witchdoctor

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