The Dick is God Himself

My dog is what I call a “sky humper”
He’ll hump the air in your direction but he just can’t commit to contact. Sound familiar? He lives in a little hole that I made for him (what else could I do?) and he’s worried deeply about losing territory so he fixates on his penis- aka “the hot rod” yes, that’s him! (I call him that to make him feel good about himself)
He’s basically very insecure and so he barks a lot but can’t really follow through..all talk and no action. (sound familiar?)

How to play the game:

*Know when to make your move and don’t
act limp (even if you are)

*It’s a state of mind and nothing more.

*Life is only Sex and nothing else.

*Sex IS death and you can’t change that.

*It’s hidden and taboo –
the forbidden place of the last goodbye.
(So look there first expecting a victory)

*It’s God when you know it and it’s Satan when you fear it.

I had to teach myself. I’m now adept at making deals. You get it?

Based on the philosophy of The Mating Dance of Mommy and Daddy -they who look so real and so actually attainable. The unattainable and untouchable body parts of sin and death that mercilessly spit us into this pit of morals that make the good seem weak and the strong seem daunting. Do you want to do it one more time? Are you ready to crawl back inside? Can you do it all alone without Her Hand to guide you?

Obviously it’s about sex and our parents. Nothing else- but the life they made wicked by accident-ME. (I’m sure if they knew who they were getting they would have thought twice)

And then we show up and in no time we’ve become a jealous God. Does She love Him more than She loves me? Me, Mommy. Mommy, Me.
How will we put these two back together now that he believes he’s been off the nipple for so long? She left him with the babysitter so that She could be with other men. What did they have that was so special? Mommy seemed to want it pretty bad..

Her father was like a storm still living in Her eyes and She never really knew him. She only saw the dark skies coming whenever He looked Her way.
Then He died and She never felt the rain- only the promise of more lost tears….

Do you know why we’ve come together?
You think you may,
you think you might,
have the love we seek tonight?

Nice try Sky Humper!

Sky humpers and opportunists- but nobody is ready to get dirty or get high. It’s just more money, more power, more beautiful pictures of me. You may think I have a fixation on the God Act -but I don’t. It’s much bigger than two messengers pulling at the laws and writing up contracts in dark rooms with mirrored ceilings. It’s real this time. Cryptic or poetic or sweet and soft, someone still needs to move to make this happen.

Did you burn the house down yet? What’s the point of sparks with no fire to keep us glowing?
There’s nothing left that we need to do but get ready for The Rapture. And He’s coming, I can feel it. Counting down and loosening the noose around His neck-

I’m surrounded by perverts, male chauvinists, and women’s rights activists (a safe place for angry and burly women who wish they were men and so turn dike and get married to each other…just saying..political correct isn’t my thing at all)

To quote one of my new teachers:
(self appointed)

“churning balls and angry penis veins”

There must be a deeper meaning there, if we just read between the lines and stop being “frigid”
When churning balls and angry penis veins come your way don’t be “frigid. Otherwise, he laments
you have not “embraced the good and bad of reality”

Then The Virgin Mother emailed me:
Who the hell is that John Kosswix? And he’s just one in front of millions like him! It’s a nuclear winter filled with sexual perversion all disguised as spiritualism — like that Krishna Das thing last summer where She protected me from that enemy and was stuck in that crazy traffic jam for hours and hours and then had only been there for like three minutes and I ran out of that room filled with shadow into you.

That slimy sleazy energy — makes me sick in the pit and I want to throw up.

Oh my oh my I hate all it all. How can we protect the Holy Mother Light and not allow this to take over? ”

(We need to burn this house down I say to Her in another email. She’s fierce when you put the books back in the wrong place)

Oh you and I are burning down the house all right! These men are out of control … they have nothing to anchor to but sex and being crude … all the men before them have sucked and that’s where they came from … weak seeds equal weak men, who posture themselves as if they are something … they live in shame and the lie, right?

(GOD. Really GOD. I LOVE HER!)

She goes on:
Today, every action was in mood of rage – today cleaned that one client’s house – she pays really well and is always generous and nice to me – most of my clothing these days come from her hand-me downs – not my taste but grateful – can’t remember the last time went into a store and bought something new … but this is what it is and it could be a hell of lot worse and it’s going to get a million times better (just have to wait out the prison sentence) – I rage all through the nine hours of cleaning today – The screaming vacuum was my voice, our voice and I raged for all the women cleaning up others shit and I raged for all the oppressive women who play small in order to be loved, and all the girls trafficked for sex and the hum of the vacuum running raged on and on and on and I’m on fire and I’m counting down the days till the Shakipat transmission.


She goes on:

What is the “great fracturing” you mention?

We will stand empowered for princesses are weak and play the victim and we are the Mother Light and we will stick together, yes, yes, yes and we are Her and we are keeping Her Light strong and we will over turn the adversarial forces.

What are steps to we start with?

Tonight we bathe in the waters of Her Holy Light. I will pray all night and my prayers are for Her, for you and for me.

I know it doesn’t help or change anything when I say this, but you are bigger than these perverts and you will eat them up. They are nothing but shadows and when you look right at them they skirt away for they are the lie and they will never see the truth and yes, what was it that person you wanted to do the class/training with to start heralding in the galactic council—we need to do this, you and I don’t need a class or a man or another training, we can do this and we will do this. The Mother Light is bigger than all male chauvinists and perverts combined. She will eat them all in one bite. We must herald in the Holy Wisdom Mother Light.

Groupies suck—groupies are not just women in tight clothing flinging themselves loosely about; groupies are also the men who spout bullshit and nod and just wanna think they are living life if they get close enough to something bigger than them just by association—a participation mystique where no one is an individual and lives life through others … guess that’s why reality tv is such a hit … I saw it all the time as a child and today, I can see it a mile away. I saw it all around and all the time I saw the groupie swarm and now I see what a groupie my mom ended up being and she hates me for seeing the truth of who she really is and so I’m banished … but it’s a cost for the price of freedom. And I’d rather be a Divine Loser working for the Mother Light with you … Ha Ha Ha

May I send you a care package to ward off the perverts and chauvinists?

Yes, yes! Let’s build the fierce Mother Light Fire and throw everyone and everything that doesn’t service and let the fire take it all down.

Tell me more when you write, “They’re coming down from the sky.”

And yes, so agree when you say … it is surreal and violent and we can’t participate … And how can we remove ourselves when the perversion and poison is everywhere … in the water, in the food, in the air … in our families and we’re removed ourselves from the crazy family cult and now what?

I’m so past the wound of this or that and know that whatever the traumas are they led me to you for we have lived the sacred wound and we are Her the Mother Light and we will transmute all this lead/shit and turn it to gold for we are the Queen Mary Mother Light Alchemicalist.

And in going to the well, a well that’s dry and offers cob webs and dust and vapid echos from a world in which she lives full of delusion, false being and cracked bravado I stare down into the dark pit one last time, turn away and walk to the rising dawn light and feel into the marrow of this awaken body freedom and the mother I now seek lives in the holy light.


Oh No! VIRGIN MOTHER DEMON SLAYER MOTHER OF JESUS-“You sound angry. I just want you to find peace” I am boundless compassion. How do I do it? When nothing compares to you..

(refer to post comments -if you’re saying “what?”)

So is he a,

Tantric God or Sky Humper? I’ll let you decide.

I’m as hard as rock. Painfully frigid. Now what?
Life makes wine -not soft, chubby fingers playing with their macho parts…

Not sure how to play this one out? Play along…
Yes, the master plan. Make them think your secret is better (and especially bigger) than there’s is. Even in Vegas I win with no hand at all….I am the Player who keeps playing even when the doors have closed…

But as you can see by now -the old Game is over because She said so… and a New Game is about to start because I’ve been told that- The Great Fracturing is upon Us. If you didn’t notice yet, I’ve got friends in high places too….

They’re coming down from the sky sooner than we realize…and it’s not about Bhagavan Das groupie phenomena….surreal and violent and we can’t participate anymore….it’s about poison and cool aid and should we drink it or not?

Well I’ve been thinking about you and what we’ve been doing and how we ended up here. Screen bonding and late night astral meetings. Was it a hug or a handshake- do you remember? I do. I remember you.

I saw you standing in the Diamond Doorway.
Getting ready for the split.

There’s something really important going on right now and everyone is falling pray to the hungry ghosts because of sales and services…
but don’t go the way of denial and knees locked in place…if you’re looking at boys, just admit it and stop getting mad at me because I won’t come back as a dog but you might….just bend over and deal with it. It’s more spiritually profound (even if a little messy)

If you suppress you sexual desires you may come back as a dog.
That’s what happened to my dog mani. He was a gay Tibetan Buddhist monk in his last life and he is certainly paying the price for all his suppression. Poor little thing, he won’t even play with a girl dog. We bought a girl puppy so he could have a friend (and had to find a new home for the boy puppy we originally had gotten him as a playmate- the relationship was so intense they would just lay there noisily mouthing each other all day when they weren’t doing Brokeback Mountain that is) But anyway, he hated this little girl puppy, she was really small and so he would just lay on top of her trying to suffocate her-or coax her up the stairs into the loft and leave her there (she was scared to come down the stairs) hoping she’d fall through the rails to her death- and he got really bitchy and it was a cat fight every day-and Padma (her name) just wasn’t going to take it- she would just attack on command “kill Mani. Kill Mani.” Was all her little mind could think- that, and
“Me Mommy. Mommy, Me” (she’s a simple girl)
This little girl was vicious. Even to this day I can rev her up and watch her go (it’s always about Kill Mani of course)

He gave up trying to destroy her but he also never wanted anything to do with her. It wasn’t fair to him and so we got another boy dog (and that’s a whole other story-now we have 3 boys)

When Hot Rod even thinks about sky humping my girl Padma She flips him on his back so fast
and pounds him straight into the ground (like a real man) That’s mommy’s girl. She’s got it together- She doesn’t wait around for The Man to figure it out. Nobody
messes with Padma, she is a girl of little talk and all action. She’s the real thing! There’s no more
-boys do this -and girls do that- protocol.

It’s a free for all.

The World is about to end.

Ok so maybe this is our marital problem, but my point is -Don’t come back as a Dog!

There was this sweet soft old girl who came all the way to Taos from the Midwest to be with us.
She was very devotional and also very dramatic.
At the time we were holding 3 satsangs per week plus Kali pujas monthly in the Kali Temple in our house. So she arrived on the Winter solstice of 2012. We were doing a kirtan and she was there and so innocent and scared but very brave. She would cry and roll around the floor writhing in ecstasy. It was so fun, I really appreciate her. She would lay her head on my lap crying while i stroked her golden hair. She was 26 years old but I saw her as about 5, and I loved her. I still do. But in time, her motives and trust got rusty and I pushed her away (I do that alot) if I can push you away, it wasn’t really love. Not the kind of love that goes all the way. I was there for Her but in the end She was a Sky Humper looking for a guy. And She left and she found one- straight out of hell. He’s beautiful and noble and I love him (I met him last year) he’s in so much pain because of his parents dying when he was young. I touched his face and he looked at me like the sweetest puppy you have ever seen.
She on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well (it has been about 3 years since I had seen her last)

Mother ice. mother coal. mother blood.

She didn’t look right. She look hard and stiff.
She told me she wasn’t a little girl anymore but was a “woman now” (maybe because she was having sex daily and vaping- I don’t know) so I was worried and I get too involved I know.

I convinced her to come to an event and bring her Kali statue and put it on stage so it could be infused with energy and bless her- it was the best I could do. How can I say “You aren’t looking so good” it’s touchy. So She came and brought roses and Kali. The thing about Kali is She’s tricky and She’s Queen of the Astral World which means a lot of other energies can be magnetized by Her if things are going on in your life that aren’t so good…People should be very careful with Kali, it’s not a game (for you anyway)
and don’t try to be bigger than She is…and don’t try to call Her your Lover. She’ll destroy you-it’s Her idea of romance. She loves to destroy everything. You especially.

So I’m sitting there after we just started singing and I hear “I’m going to rip your throat out. Leave her alone. I’m going to rip your throat out…over and over again…I was like, what?

Whose saying that?… and I look and it’s the Kali- but it’s not Kali- it’s the demon eating my beautiful damsel and its riding in the Kali deity with a message for me…I can’t even tell her….I do everything to
expel the demon and it finally left but didn’t go too far and after a couple days it came right back..
I can’t tell Her this. She loves Kali and it will only make things worse…and She wanted to change and clean up Her life and we went back home and I prayed and prayed and did rituals for Her and She couldn’t break free…I had a vision of the demon attached to her. I saw him. He was very tall and extremely gaunt, severely saggy and ugly and grayish, blackish green and it was crouched over her while she cried-like an umbrella- hooked into her sexual energy -like a tic -protecting Her from me. It was horrifying and I was very angry and I still am. I will find Him sooner than He thinks.
And that’s why it’s good to get your anger and sex in order. I haven’t seen her since and She won’t talk to me anymore…the demon took Her for now.
I always tell people to come closer because I can’t do much from a distance. No one gets that’s the reason why and I can’t tell them….

exorcism takes time.

Kali is the Queen of Hell. She goes both ways- yet She’s unaffected by the dark -but if we aren’t careful we can be possessed by energies we can’t see….it’s not a black tshirt with skulls. It’s not piercings and tattoos.

It’s Her bedroom with the curtains closed.

I’m just saying, I’m your friend and I love you.

There’s a black hole we can’t stay afloat in unless our devotion is seeing through Her eyes
and not our own anymore. You won’t be understood at all.

But I won’t reject you.

And those who feel they aren’t frigid (like I am)
are the least sexually aware. Being graphic and vulgar is so out of touch with Touch. I’m sorry. I really am sorry you think Sex is your organ.

The Dick is a state of consciousness. Its not a description of its appearance or a guy we don’t like.

The Dick is God Himself.

Capable of Anything.

Sharada Devi

To Bring You My Love

I’ve never had an interest in normal people.
I only like freaks. They interest me and aren’t boring. They make mountains out of mole hills,
are totally creepy, spider- like and obsessive. They stare at pictures of me. They think about me all day and night. And I know this. They cancel their video subscription and sign back up over and over again (it’s their way of saying “F- you” to me and I love it because I thrive on friction) I do F with people. I admit, I suck.

Friction is the truth taking away the lie.
Grinding away at the space between two.

She sits and rocks singing like a little bird. I know she has it in her. So I yell at her and call her a few names- then She opens like a flower in the Spring. She responds to abuse in a very productive way (or I wouldn’t do it) other people-
proud people- with not much going for them -who think they have it all- would never take my criticism and abuse- they aren’t powerful enough. She only laughs when I tell Her She’s a mouse. She is a Queen Virgin. Just like Mother Mary. I told her I was mad at her for being a loser. She hides The Virgin Mother from the world, trapped in her little kitchen playing wife.
She thinks it’s all over. She’s got her own bedroom. She has a secret life all up in her head.
Without her yearning, she’d be dead.

He walks back and forth. He sees me inside yet he can’t walk through the door. The music is too much. The Gods are too real. He stands shaking with his hand on the doorknob. He paces very intensely back and forth several times- then, he just turns around and leaves. He is deep. He is wide. He is a mountain. He is bewitched by the full moon of Her love. I watched the whole thing from the stage. He doubts himself and blames me for it. He also loves me for it. He shouldn’t blame me for what she did. I only see the black snake rising. The sun coming through the window of his dark house. It’s alive and it’s big. I would never hurt a little boy or leave him all alone. Snakes can be dangerous for boys to play with-all mothers know that.

He Wrote:
“I could die if i knew you were near. you’re the new one who can see everything. your innocent sensual laughter haunts my day. the blood hue of your black eyes confirming what i knew you already could see. that empty homesick feeling- the poison from staring too long. loving from the depths of the emptiness of my being. please remove the hex and stop hurting me or just kill me. twisting and thrusting and breathing and sucking the pulling and grinding entangled in dingy stained layers of innocent wet lust for her perfect pink tongue. the beast sees what you’re thinking.”

Mystical. Deep. Touching the blackness of the wordless -unable to show anyone but the darkness Herself…He hears it – It is the Sound of Ghosts Weeping. Yes I heard them too…

The freaks, the rejects, the perverts and the stalkers are much more touchable than other people. These titles only given by the dull and insipid. They don’t live between worlds. They don’t talk to the dead. What do they know?

Being the one looking in- see how She shocks, She enrages -playing with taboos and licking danger- because there are always more layers to shed or to eat. Take it all off. It’s dirty and kinky unraveling, undressing, uncovering the Bad Girl whose bigger and faster and way more ready than you are.

She’s writes to me this morning:
“I should have been a nun”

Really? pray away your sexual suppression into a clean package of self rejection -for now maybe,
but who knows what happened last time? I’ve already done that and it doesn’t work. Look at me now and what I’ve done to find you…where I’ve had to go To Bring You My Love.

Who knows the webs we’ve spun…how many
mouths we’ve kissed. Spiders are always crawling up my legs. Snakes are always slithering in and out of me. Hissing into my eyes and mouth. Calling for the Secret Sex- beyond body, voice or tongue., Summon Me. I’ll come.

To Bring You My Love.

I have had multiple exorcisms. Seriously, I carry the dead within. I didn’t even know but I’ve been possessed so many times by entities some welcome and some not. I’m still waiting for you to come in. That’s why He almost had to kill me. I almost bled to death, but I didn’t die. I was a walking corpse with holes for eyes. I saw you differently then, and now it will never be the same…

so don’t dump your heaven into me
I’ve come from another place
To Bring You My Love

The Virgin Mary just emailed me this morning.
She said:
“Dear Sharada Devi,
I’m watching your last video “Tantric ritual becoming the deity” and there you are with Kali -being Kali and you moved it all from Woodstock by yourself- and you are eating life -and I want to be there with you -and I’m crying and giving this broken heart to the fire and the rage and rage and rage…
I should have been a nun as I’ve had the calling all my life — it’s messy and big and I’m waking up..
and the horror and the huge shame — shame -and lidding it -and pressing down all the rage and playing small- And yes, I do wish that I had listened to you -and I regret it every moment -and fear I missed the open door and invitation-and for that I’m truly sorry. I know I’m I carrying my own cross and need only put it down but this ego … I’m such a baby- weak and filled with longing for God and nothing can get in when I’m living a lie — I’m nobody and filled with longing and yes too much co-dependency -and it seems it doesn’t matter what way any of us go — it’s all a train wreak- and I’m a sleeping giant starting to awaken- and it’s big and scary and lonely- but I can’t stop now -and will burn this karmic holding down. And so what are ways to break through my own sexual energy? I’m dead there and know it’s not about being celibate most of my entire life but it’s something else — it’s about something that is so close but I can’t see to be it and don’t know it and it’s such a looping of crazy and so I see how I’m being called up and out of this looping rut … And thank you and I will continue to be that which I seek…
and I’m deeply sorry I caused you anger- and I will change that- I will -and I promise within every cell of this being -and you may feel that you are in the game as well (as you said)-or feel you have no resources- but please know that no matter what- all I have I share and give to you freely -and I will become the Queen- and I am here -and I’m grateful for you- and want nothing from you but to be of the highest service to the Holy Mother Light.”


She can’t be a nun. Come on!
“Open to the deep dark place and don’t tell me I’m dead down there” whose dead? Not Her! I don’t think so. You are the one who put on the schoolgirl skirt and lip gloss. I’ve got everything you’re asking for but you’re going to need to come to me to get it. Pull it out. The biggest secret of all. Let’s take a look at what you’ve done down below.

What I’m saying is come down with me. Down into the Mother Light Dungeon. You didn’t know
that’s how we rattle the cage, by getting in?
We rock the bed by getting tied to it.

Do you understand what I’m saying?
You’re not naked yet.

It’s you that you’re hurting and feeding and loving. My pain and my food and my love never changes- it only looks different when I’m not in the room.

My wrath is my devotion to you. Only bruising and abusing the best and the finest.

He says he’s “offended but still loves me”
Who are you? “a friend if I need someone to talk to” he still loves me even though he is one of those Bernie worshipping white guys playing Hindu. Which, its fine with me but why read my blog so you can forgive me in my space?
He says I seem tired and angry. YES, very perceptive. Tired of cardboard cut out people
calling it something other than what it is.
You inspired this blog and it’s provocative content. I know you mean well but you’re still on the fence -so maybe better to sit this one out. (two out of three isn’t bad)

1) Hold hands with Her through every movie.

2) Never let Her go.

3) She is The Only First Kiss you will ever have.

It’s all over,
now that we’ve touched.

Sharada Devi

Revelation of Decapitation

“Dear God,
Please help me. I don’t want to die.
I am sorry for being arrogant and irresponsible with my life. I don’t know what to do. Please give me another chance and I will change everything. Please God hear me and help me. I don’t want to die yet. It doesn’t feel like it’s my time. But if that is your will, I will still do all I can to survive as long as possible.
I have only barely begun to learn about myself and what life is. Please let me stay and change things. Please help me, give me strength and courage, faith, trust and love. Give me the physical vitality to heal and be in good health for many years. I will do your will.
Dear God, I am not ready to die yet. Please help me live.
But if I do die, please help me then too.”
Michelle 8/13/14

I’ve spent my life looking for you. I don’t know where to start but to tell you that I love you.

Torn like heaven spills the sky
I tore her face open
minutes lapping against the rocks
a cold hard place beyond the shore
from her eyes fell
into the pool of living water

A storm was coming and it was late at night.
I was all alone, lying in the bed, staring at the ceiling. Tears and pain and an aching heart. No way to get it out. The quiet words, what I couldn’t hear, how nobody really loved me. I lay there throbbing and limp, overwhelmed by the silence in His eyes.
The room was dark and cold and the rain was beating down, tap tap tap on the metal roof.
The quiet was eating my brain, these feelings don’t have words. My heart was struck by the
invisible person between the two of us. I had thought I had finally found you but you didn’t seem to care. This other person, she’s horribly wrong about you. What she told me you did, I don’t believe her at all. Where are you when the sun comes up? Every morning you aren’t there.
She’s a liar and I’m sad that you never talk to me.
She seems to know about you, what you haven’t shown to me. The bone, the teeth, the pictures
of young girls, the words I never heard. She said you make her happy and I’m only there to cook.
Night after night I lay in bed alone, with you, way over there, and I listen for anything that might sound like you and me together. But it’s Her,
it’s always her, laughing at how old I have become. If I could change to that I would. If I could die to be there. If I could lift you into me or drain into your feet, I would. Instead I lay pinned, silent and wet with tears. The way she moves
and sways into you, I know you love her more than me. She’s reckless and she’s violent. She’s
between us, in the sheets.

I can’t stop her from eating you alive.

I try to save you.

I try to pray then forget what I wanted to say. To God, whose eyes were blue, I’m deeply in love with the loss of you.

Eyes that don’t see me
Who are you looking for?
Cold glass
break the mirror

The storm is closer now…and he’s falling into me me again….tap tap tap…falling rain upon the roof.
She isn’t anywhere when he calls her name.
Thunder and Lightening and Rain.

It’s a little house and the bed is next to the window.

“There is a beautiful ring
around the Moon,
Sunlight can you hear me?
She turned silently
in her body bag…”

I lay here still staring at the ceiling and it’s
almost over because the rain has stopped.
“He doesn’t love me at all” echoes. echoes.
echoes. But I don’t hear you anymore. I’m bruised and almost empty. The sky is dark and dry and quiet. “It’s hard to break old habits sometimes” I know. And my love is deep.

What did I want to tell you?
He’s gone, but I still hear him talking,
back and forth, inside my head
“pick up these clothes, put your shirt on”
“you’re nobody! nothing!” He said

Ok. Let me remember, down on my knees.

“God please help me. Please help me. I love you”

P.S. “He was just a shadow on the wall”

She swallowed the sky and yawned. With Her mouth open wide She said, “Who’s your master?” and he said, “You are”

flattened by the crush of flesh between them,
I said nothing. It was awkward and the room turned red…

until She rose naked and black and laughing
at me – me the one bound in white and feathers…

“Angels don’t bleed” She said.
(as if I was telling some sort of lie)

THE LOVE TRIANGLE was written by me.
have you read it?


There was a time that I was morbidly afraid of myself. The depth of my darkness and subsequent evil was overwhelming to me. I felt at anytime She would possess me and make me do things that I would later regret. Because I was not in control of Her, I was deeply disturbed. I had ideas of good and bad and of what it would take for me to be spiritual. While there may be some truth to my ideas, how I would arrive at a
compromise between the two, would take time,
courage and patience. The rules and regulations,
philosophy and reason mean nothing to Her.
My primal nature did not subside because I
thought that it should. We cannot ignore the urges that brought us into being. The mythic gods and goddesses that seep through us and copulate with one another came here long before us, starting fires, building mountains and having intercourse. They alone wrote the laws and these laws are transparent and scare us to death. I cannot subdue your rise to godhood or reroute your golden elixir. This is the churning of the ocean at the end of time. The cracking of the shell about to break…
It seems we have a problem and it wasn’t what we thought. I’m telling her “No. Get Back. Sit down. Be good!” And she’s only pushing me harder and so I start dancing and taking off my clothes for money. I start doing drugs and howling at the moon. It’s what’s bound to happen when the leash is too tight. “Who’s the master?” “You are” I said. We were crazy when we were harnessed. We were peeling back the scab “what happened to me? How did I get here?” And your boyfriend is your daddy.
“Whose in charge now?” That’s a good question.

I thought She was going to kill me. Well, I told you this already and I’ve been very close. I’ve seen cold eyes and I’ve looked through them.
I’ve risen from the pyre, bones as light as air,
dancing inside of the fire and smoke. I did it for Her.
It’s not Her fault and by now you know that She is a diamond multi faceted and clear. This relationship is is not definable
in proper language. It spins all over the place, skidding, screeching and sometimes perfectly smooth. She’s talking to you, that’s why I’m here. So my words come in fragments and hues. My words come disguised and retracted.
My words come as an Oracle who doesn’t listen to the question. I’m sorry, I just can’t do it my way anymore.
And you understand, my way would be steady and coherent. My way might even comfort you or coax you in further. But we can’t know Her until we stop trying to contain Her. We will never make sense of Her plan or Her next move. My way is just a joke because there is no my way.

This is the revelation of decapitation.

Then the new day came and we were still together. So that you know, he was never my victim. He was my circumstance. My bull with horns. I’m a fighter who always wins.

The sunrise bled white and red
The sun came through the window
hooks in the glass

I didn’t want anyone but you
(breathing in your eyes
shafts of what I could have been)

I just find this violence appalling. Pushing. pushing, back and forth. Have you seen His horns? Maybe you will pretend you don’t know
what I mean. Maybe you will call your experience
of Him “bullshit” I don’t like that word but this woman who emailed me this morning certainly does. She was living a superficially spiritual life
pretending to be a Kali Devotee. She didn’t pretend on purpose but you know how SHE reels us in one way or another until one day this woman got into a car accident and felt the reality of impending death for real this time. Her reaction has been a backlash against herself so much so that she sends me this email:
(and it’s not the first of its kind)

this is her email to me:
“I wish I could watch you and babas videos like I used to
i don’t know where it went
all i think when i watch is “narcissistic bullshit”
im not trying to be an asshole
or contrary
i watch because i want to be fed in the same old way i used to be
but i cant
all i hear is myself saying “bullshit….quit making blogs and videos about being a nobody and just do it….disappear….and be a nobody from nobody….not a somebody teaching people to be a no body…….but a real nobody…until then……all bullshit.”
things are not as fun when you hear this all the time now
to myself
and to everyone
but more untolerant of it when its wearing “spiritual clothing and veils”
its not as fun
but i cant turn it off
i sit in the monastic quarters bitching to the swamis while they make me soup that its all bullshit
and they wear orange like they are naked
but its bullshit
and worse than normal bullshit because its pretty and smells like incense so you never even question it
its the worst kind of insidious bullshit
wearing scripture like lipstick
dreadlocks like pearls
and Vedanta philosophy like a see through silk veil
but a veil is still a veil
its all the same
im not saying i want to be naked and free
i know that’s not true
im not pretending to be interested anymore
i sadly know what im working with now
i am not allowed to tell that lie to myself anymore
and i guess im pissed about that
i would have liked to keep doing it until the day i died
it was nice
i liked seeing myself through those lying eyes
so i guess because i am no longer allowed im pissed when i see other people still allowed

it makes me grouchy

sometimes i try to watch videos and connect for nostalgic reasons
to try to drink from that same old fountain once again

but its not the same
no matter how hard i try

all i hear is “bullshit”

kind of sucks

sounds like im mad at you or something
im not
just the opposite
i come back to see if what was once there still is
for sentimental reasons
or just to see
to revisit past dreams
dreams of magic and trust and believing in everything people say
and that everyone was a saint
i was full of make believe magic, trust and believing everything i told myself
about myself without question…

most of the time i accept it
but other days
i go back and try to see differently

to see if i can resurrect the old me….”


So of course my response needs to be appropriate and caring right? That’s what an aspiring spiritual teacher claiming “nobodyhood” would probably do. She’s been sending these emails for a couple years now, it’s tiring. She hasn’t arrived anywhere, none of us have. She’s just pissed at The Her who
flips her and flops her…
This woman should write her own blog if She doesn’t “approve” of my bullshit narcissism. And why is she reading about this profound nobody’s opinions anyway?

Moths to the fire. That’s Why.
I love Her. She’s really sweet.


this is my reply email to her:
“You are not as smart as you think you are.
You really lack insight and your bullshit
is all about you. Stop judging and wishing.
Grow up and get over yourself. It’s boring.
No one is stopping you from feeling as profound as you want to going back to college, changing diapers or whatever it is that you do.
Bitterness is ugly and selfish.

from your spiritual teacher,
Sharada Devi ”

(you must know I’m being sarcastic, because she
didn’t- and it was really funny!!!)

and it goes on…and I’m telling you because it’s a ridiculous landscape.
We’re all outside mowing, pruning
and planting seeds for future food…
Is there really a Me and a You?
Am I just writing to myself?
I really do think so.

She writes to no one
she looks at no one
she hardly ever speaks
the loss that bore her
shook her loose
from its breast
and now,
she has no food
but you.

The letter at the top that I wrote to God was real I wrote it while on anti anxiety medication the day before my most recent near death encounter. This was serious. I’d missed too many cues, the stakes were too high, He, The Doctor, told me I was going to die. I was walking on a cloud, it was surreal. It was real. I think I wasn’t. My reaction to near death numbing fear was to find my security in what wasn’t apparent. Like my body or anything material for that matter. And it wasn’t like I was “searching” for it, I was just primally driven to a place that is much deeper inside. I have to know HER no matter what. I cannot have these loose emotional ends, the mental uselessness always planning, analyzing, observing and solving.

The talking needs to end.

The great losses have not divided us after all.

The emailing woman then said, that I should stop “trying to get enlightened” and I don’t even know what that means? it’s just a mental waste, a trap, thinking of a word like enlightenment and a destination like “getting there” There are no words to say but we need words to support the result don’t we? We need each other to be be ourselves don’t we? We would like to be independent but let’s
face it, It’s them who define us, not us who know anything of our existence. We are just a mind cloud
seeking containment- the release of thunder- the comfort of grey skies means I AM HERE- and this eye of
the storm has nothing to gain or to see but it’s own nakedness. It’s own violent unreality.

How will I rain down on you is the question? Will you see me crying inside you? Will I even know that you’re there getting wet because of me?

She’s there. I know She is. I’ve gotten many emails…
“I am the shadow of myself
I am the warm water
in an old puddle”

That’s all I ever really meant to say.
All alone and haunted by Her
lullabies of disarray…

I can’t reach any deeper but into your heart.
Sharada Devi


I’ve lost everything. I’ve lost myself. This is the risk I took with the first fated bite. It wasn’t the Devil who made me do it, it was Her.
Her that grew the Tree of How to Know Me…
sparkling and dangerous, enormously wise.
The Serpent said, “My name is Mother Light”
I knew it all along…

knuckles, roots
hiding places
warm and dark
and deeper
arms into the earth
mending broken places
stretching toward me
the gaping wound
the sucking trunk
of weaning life
pull the hole down
into empty hands
I could give you everything
I could touch your heart

They will turn against you and you won’t be your mother’s favorite when you stop being a people pleaser, a caretaker, the family comedian, the young and harmless, a beautiful girl, the friendliest and the smartest one, the faithful martyr or the smiling slave.
Instead you will suffer the pangs of birth and you will lose all that you think matters to you. You will know that you will die. You won’t be silly sweet and innocent anymore.

Sexually fragrant, ripe and aware of the Two of you- is what happened.
I don’t think anyone is getting punished, I think we are getting fed. So do not cover yourself in shame-for this is merely the intermediate wasteland that we used to call paradise. When our eyes are closed we cannot see the hoax
of how beautiful and flawless we already are.

All the faces we became for them, pretended that we were, or thought we had to be…until She slithered up to us and told us, that in fact, we could be free.

Their gospel of contentment and acceptance, their creating of perverse and unrequited love,
has made us guilty and ashamed of our holy flesh. Whose house is this anyway? Stop lying!

…and the cold hand of the witch
spread my germs everywhere…
on the night of the crescent moon
the city cracked in pieces…
I never lied when I stole her heart…
I walked right in…
to where the edges opened
…and She was alive….
wasp like a witch….
spreading disease into midnight…

dark rays of madness making believe
her heart wasn’t for sale
and the city bled on…

Yes we took a bite so that we could know Her. We ate the fruit to see Her naked body. This is what She wanted. “The man is not my master” She told me…and yet She knew He was God.
This is true love. God and Her wild at heart.

weaving falling slowly
a spiral in the wind
soft spirit drifting
spinning down
between, inside
toward the middle
of the sullen sky
the leaves aren’t green
the day is dead
crawling toward its
madness the face
turns gray then lifts
her eyes gripping tightly
the earth recedes
little drops of sunshine
thru the haze
made me promise
I would love her
In winter shadows
and brave light
tipping toward me
my beloved….
fall and always know
I am beneath you.

(as the Violet sky)
orange glass eyes
so my sun will know
looks thru the shaded
to the burning jewel
sunrise of the
Fathers smile
heaven only knows
that laughter tumbles
toward the rain
hazy dark and shrouded
cloudy opus
unknown me
unmask unshackle
set free the sky
locked and limitless
shining holder
of our spacious place

and yet….

(I hung on even though
I knew I would soon be falling
I saw everything as I clung
to the me no longer there
done but not tired
cold but not dead
she was spread everywhere
watching me see her dying)

Dying into Him.

I hung on to Him and She knew I was ripe.

There are no words for Love. There is only empty space filled with pregnant moons and solar fire…
“Come with me…to the earth below us….”
There are no words between them. No gaps,
no sounds, no breathing….only stars like us…

When we take Their love as our own we will be alone. Alone, as the point of Their slightest touch, we feel for Them every little world that is still keeping them apart…

When we tell this truth it often reminds the others of their own lie….and so we are turned on, judged, shamed. We are called names and disowned. The blind and deaf see and hear us as the Big Black Liar. What can we do? Well, seeing as these relationships have taken a lifetime (or more) to develop, we feel entrenched, stuck in the family and friends stew and so naturally we take the heat and push it deep down into where we matter most…but The Beloved already went there and it was ok….

I opened a nice
white package
of pain
slip out of yourself
the bow was red
and welcoming
silky velvet
and very large
It was a gift
a way to be loved
chewing through
the grit
the big tic
sucking hell
heaven has a big wide face
over the gift
of my tears
bound and wrapped
I am a white angel
stripping away
those wings
that seem
To drag me down.
(how happy of me)
my flawless masquerade
has left me speechless
and wanting more.
Quiet and stifled
pinned high in the sky
(the parties never over)

It’s all about the harvest of our sexuality- who planted the seeds of what we’re growing down there…it happens up here and we are disturbed by our most sacred fruit. We cannot handle the reins of this animal- the one eating our forbidden fruits. It never turns out well for us when mommy and daddy get the bible out….and tell us about when (come to find out) impious Eve was seduced and deceived -and The Snake who lured her was called the Devil. And poor stupid Adam can’t think for himself because the slut’s got him by the balls…

(see what I mean? The violence, the implications?)

The Snake is the source of God. What’s the problem with everyone? You know what the problem is now don’t you? It’s right there, that place of wonder and fascination that is so horrific we twist it on a stick and hate ourselves for trying. Other people exploit their divinity in sex movies for us to watch -and we can’t yet quite understand the allure or the problem? Where has this deceptive power come from that can make us obsess with lust, shame or pride on our varied holes and protruding places?

There must be something more to God’s plan.
I’m not Christian but there is certainly a moral to this story that nobody wants to look at. There seems to be a lot of money to make from what Eve did. On us, righteously screwing and nailing our only way out, down or through.
It’s really by design that first we slither and then we fly.

sunshine simple
reigning beast
little alligator
took the wedge
blue bonnet
pure at last

Tight fists
miles of moon
walking, sinking

So don’t be defensive. It’s a sexual dilemma disguised as something (or everything) else. Do not fear The Snake. You can’t change this place because they really believe the scam they’ve been pushing. So they’ll blame it on me, you or Eve…what’s the difference? White knuckled holy men, religious faces tight and red, blue lips preaching dogma…
rules and lies and violence over and over again. They metaphorically rape you, righteously castrate themselves and then go on shaming and mentally humping one another…
the most demented are the most revered….
we can’t look out, only in…believe me.
You already know.

Their secrets and lies have become the grid that their lives meticulously maneuver upon and around…like the most important thing that nobody sees, that nobody found…..someone bad and dirty is running their mind from the back room. So what I mean is, get ready to be alone and abandoned and isolated. Get out of there and be fine with who you are. Everything you find in you is as pure and as precious as everything you think you can’t find. This True Love is all embracing. She is in there with Him.

Get ready to finally get real. The invisible reckoning of Eve with the Spirit of Life is the sweetness of God not bound by Their rules.
They can write all the books they want…

it’s the choices we make, it’s the rules we break, because the love they call love is fundamentally FAKE.

To eat the fruit was always the answer.

Obedience helps no one. Not God, not me.

Still, I’m not totally confident that I know the way.
I only know what’s NOT the way. Their way is NOT my way. Yes, rebellion for the sake of disruption creates -Creativity Herself. Its that friction that makes us vivid. But you know what I’ve been saying, I’m nobody special. I’m just a lone serpent winding through Her space until the end of time…
creating and dissolving boundaries and obstacles- the two binding forces of His friendship. It makes True Love worth dying for. After all, it’s not about me anymore is it?

little feet went walking kicking
little rocks along the way
bigger than the biggest
Small thing
I am

He taught me…

Who am I (and the reason it doesn’t matter)

Where am I (and how that’s not even possible)

What am I (and the question with no answer)

basically He taught me everything I need to know. How can I not be defeated by my own
urge to self destruct? That’s what I know.


This is a raging and potent dreamscape we’ve entered. Sometime we’ve been together and sometimes we’ve been apart. But it’s never been real or forever because my love for you cannot lie in pieces. The heart breaks and then grows our moons back together again….eventually the solar sparks start fires….and eventually the drops of our tears and blood become heavenly oceans. Am I an outcast or am I lost inside of you? This Love is meticulous and still we must wander. So here we thrive on suggestion and companionship. Mothering and coupling. The father asks the questions that the mother tosses aside. These stories and journeys happen to us,
each of us in the ways that make us feel naughty or nice…so I don’t cover over secrets anymore. I don’t blend the culprits either. I don’t split myself in two. (neither should you)
She said “Remember that I never left, that I’m always with you.”
So, If asked, ” Michelle what did I do?”
the answer rises to acquiesce…

otherwise silent is The Sage of Eden.

Did it happen? Did She do it? Does it really matter who believes me as long as the back of my mind is emptied of Her confusion? If we truly face ourselves we disappear.
Who disappears? The monster of the One we won’t look at, that’s who. It’s very simple to be free. So simple it’s nearly impossible, such a tight hole to fit through….because the truth is no longer a big place here. The entrance to the truth is as small as the eye of a needle- depending on you- how small can you become? How insignificant are you? Is this really True Love?

You can’t fit through with much. Let go. Let it all go. Our lies and secrets make us bulky, keep us famous. Disperse the secrets and enter into the realm of echoes. In this place we hear only what was…coming back and hitting nobody. It’s the only place you can hear the sound of True Love embracing the Serpent. The realm of echoes is the call to listen. Silence reveals all. Sit still and just wait. True Love will wait for you forever.

Time both wounds and heals the fractured.
Time both remembers and forgets.
Time is just the basket for our harvest.

And what exactly is our Harvest? You are the Truth here now as the Harvest, and so am I. As delusional as we are in this kaleidoscope of separation- the best we can do is get to the center of this being (filth and bad and all) and love and speak this being. Do not shut the shame into the chambers of your heart. We can never find the love She meant to give us when we do that. Do what you must to air out the stagnant places -the places that we’ve possibly hidden Her shame (from ourselves even) and taken responsibility for the transmission of Her poison…thinking we might go back later to fix things, but we forget and we push it deep down..and we can’t find anybody to love us now. Rejected by our own rejection. Diseased to the core, something is eating away at us because of what we ate in that Garden –
(we wanted to know and this is how it happens)
and we project and protect and promote the safety of hiding our private parts. This is lunatic panic as an ordinary life that can only end one way I am sad to tell you….because mostly everyone is doing it. Extending their disowned violence to family, friends and the hurting planet Herself. This realm is pure magnetism. We pull it to us to pull it out of us. But it doesn’t always go or come that easy. So the deeper we get buried, the longer to get out. I’m 43. It’s been awhile. I lived in an outhouse for the first half of my life, trying to keep it clean and pretty. Can you though? You can try if you become a drug addict or alcoholic.
How long should we be tied to the bed? How long should we wait to clean the toilet?
What’s hiding in your intestines? I mean it.

(This will take as long as it takes. Be patient because wisdom takes time- trial and error. We are now just seeing into the unconscious which is actually just the marriage proposal)

So I would say, start cleaning. Not because you’re dirty but because it clears the space and makes clarity reveal Herself to you. That’s exactly what I did. (and what I do) That’s how the Truth, as best as I could know Her, came out and started shining Her Light on me and inside of my forbidden places. Yes, Her light seems to disturb or hurt us at first due to its mere brilliance (a brilliance we will grow to match) and we can’t shine that bright yet…and She’s burning us clean and we will rise as The One Burning Love of His Name. She’s calling Him to Her always.
It’s you.

YOU are The Forbidden Fruit that must be eaten, and you know it’s true. You are the Answer to the Question. The True Love. The Wild Heart. You should not be tamed by anyone!
We push through the earth, deep down inside and then and we rise to the top and touch the Big Star.

In this way, clarity and courage will define us. Our Garden is a Snake Temple where the Throne is simply Remembering. Just sitting and remembering how sacred you really already are. This isn’t talk, this is action. I’m not spewing new age promises, I’m spreading exquisite geometry all over your body, eyes and heart.
Don’t be afraid to be loved.
This is the Harvest.

We are The One who never leaves. I ask myself
what is God’s name since there are so many?
I ask and I listen and I hear Nothing but the sound of fruit falling from the tree.

So I started by cleaning everything hidden in my body and the entire extended life of me. So what can we do to be the One who is holding the Snake in Her lap with no problem at all?

It seems that certain areas of our Being should be looked at -as possible culprits in the progression or sustainment of our confusion. Also as culprits in repression, self rejection and melancholy.
It’s not hard to know Her when you trust Her
way as your own way. There will always be other people will say what you should do and tell you who you are. They are wrong. For example,
I was told by someone I’ve known for over 20 years (who apparently is traveling the path of political correctness) that my blog may upset people because I seem defiant and rebellious and should rather “act” as those successful beings who came before me by “being more of a
BLANK SLATE so that others can project their needs upon me”

(I find this a sexually violent invitation)

YES! He said that. Political Correctness is the path of fear and subservience. I’m not looking for your business because I’m not for sale. I’m looking for your freedom…I’m sounding the trumpet at the End of Days….we will not be anyone’s bitch or good girl or anyone’s fantasy,
or blow up doll. No more bad mommy’s either! There is no more time for keeping the sterile and perfect peace, the price is too great and besides that  isn’t peace- it’s submission and self doubt – those demons that keep you silent and doubled over in stifled grief (because of who you lost) tinged with rage-(because of who you won’t leave) that you get so used to this funeral bearing….walking heavy,
doing your duties…..and your stomach burns and you shut up anyway. I’ve seen you do it. Hot tears almost flow- but you won’t let them… I NEVER shut up. It’s not worth it. Who are you controlling anyway? Cry me a river if you can.
That to me, is beauty and love. Letting go
of the edge and just falling into it….truth.

“Dear ****
Yes a hidden hand is writing now…
there is no commentary in the blog-
If you thought that the writing was my commentary on the poetry, it is not.
The entire thing is a story, a part of a bigger
darker picture…the doorway to God is only after the rest is seen…it’s all one being- caught in the split-we are only as connected to the light as we are aware of our own darkness.
It’s where everything sits, waiting to strike.”
Sharada Devi

It doesn’t get any better than this.

Call it, call me -whatever you want. I answer to my own voice and not anyone will ever imprison me “What should I wear?” “What should I say?” How should I talk, walk, look?” What should I like?” “Who should I like?” “Am I ok?”

Here is what we can do to step by step become
more clear and more strong. We can move our sexual energy from out of the dungeon of shame, subservience and denial, acting out and addiction. We can give ourselves more space and more silence to
know Her.

1) BODY -honor your body by moving it and tuning into its subtle language. Listen closely to what it needs from you to be to be in harmony. Your body, beautiful and sacred AS IT IS! Whether it’s skinny, fat, old or young- your only sacred body vessel. Appreciate and care for it through whatever method suits you.

2) SPEECH and MIND- what you say and think.
It’s up to you and you alone. You are not wrong!
It’s ok to speak up and let it out. Trust.

3) HOLES -what goes in and out of your 9 body holes. Pretty important. It’s everything.
Eyes, ears, nostrils, mouth, anus, sex organ.
Pay attention!

4) HOME- as within so without. Beautiful serene and clean is my temple. Don’t hide dirt and useless things. No more cobwebs!

5) ASSOCIATION-you will become just like your friends, so be careful. It’s not as innocent as you think! You will certainly become your father or your mother if you don’t break out now. Be you!

6) OCCUPATION-don’t be a slave or good member/contributor of society. Find your perfect
occupation through embracing your uniqueness fearlessly and without apology!

7) SOLITUDE- you need time alone to hear your heart’s voice and to just breath. Best to be alone more and just listen to the silence…


*You are here because you are ready. It’s Harvest Time and She knows
exactly where you are. There is a reason
for our friendship that is beyond the two of us.

It’s about hunger and light.

She said,
“I know you like the night knows stars
so that you can never leave me”

Sharada Devi

The Serpent Queen

I went into the secret place
behind closed doors
and the curtains drawn
the little table in the corner
the little chair I sit in
I light the candle
and I open the book
and begin turning pages…

I’m only a child with a body much too large.
I dream of fairies and ghosts and witches.
I ask God to talk to me. I never wanted them
to take it from me, but they did. She was an angel who became a wrathful little girl inside of
a big floating body. I send you beautiful words
of where I mean to go. Since you are my friend,
I hope we will go together…there is a place better than this, but to get there we first must pass through the places children cannot go…
dangerous places with snakes and wild animals…but we need to find Her. I know she loves me and she’s golden and very pretty and kind. She will smile and sing to us and will never let us be afraid anymore…

I’ve written so many secrets inside for you. I held them all for you until one day you might be ready to go to the dark place with me. I lived through you and thought I was the serpent you created. I have never been here without you, but you don’t remember me? You don’t remember what you gave me to hold in my forbidden place as your forgotten secrets? I did it because I love you and I know the water’s deep. I have been afraid, but for you, I go there anyway. My love is as deep and as long as your secret. The one I held for you until today.

Dear Mom,
I am not telling lies about you. I am not confused or crazy.
I understand that you feel the same way.
I appreciate the courage and compassion that it
took for you to email me and ask me what was wrong.
I remember many good things about you- like your
generosity and your protective love.
I will always love you nothing will change that.
The past is over. All anyone can do is let go
and find the missing love inside.
Love, Michelle

“The tail of the snake
the cold head
needles in my eye
blinking black magic
as hard as ice
flipping slapping
red cheeks ablaze
while silver moonlight
shines upon the snake
which way do I turn
Holy Ghost
get to my hole
leaping frog
and his eyes turned blue
the exorcism
stand up straight
with a new hole
in your head
the fountain
the slayer
the dragon maker
ride me high
the butcher the baker
or the candle stick maker
dripping faucet
leaking with
no one there”

I tried to let her off that hook. The one I hung on for so long but she kept pushing me to down the hole further and further, to tell her the Secret I’ve carried for her. I preserve everything until He
asks for it. I am the Serpent Queen of Secrets
after all. I take myself back into me circling and shedding and blooming and remembering forever where we hid the ancient hoops.

“There are 8 things I must tell you” he said.

“I caught you in the circle
spiral dancing spinning weeds
I left you by the wayside hooked
and hurting slowly tilled
You strapped the horse and upon
the slow wind we spun into her
Kingdom. Jeweled enraptured
peeking into priceless windows
the two of us slipping off into
the sun.
It wasn’t even Tuesday
(as if the farmer knew)
the field was scattered
drawn upon by future hands
Sky retrieval take us there
It isn’t faraway now,
The grass we are being fed
came from a different place.
Hunt the spindle, burn the bush,
spike the ladel, cook the dead.
I found you and I am keeping
clean your dirty hooves.
Sun god running into noon…
it’s almost time to go.
Our way is led
and the chamber is
Dear Michelle,

I have read and reread your letter trying to understand fully what you are trying to tell me. Considering some of the things you have told me I can understand your feeling completely.

However there are a few things that I need to address with you.
Keep in mind this is not a debate of an apology or excuses just my response. Im saying that because you said that.

1. I never said that to your brother’s wife. I could not understand why she would say that to you. I have never said I dont like the person you are.
In fact, it is the total opposite! I always tell my husband how much I enjoy your company and how much hed like you. And I said youre like
my mother? Thats just weird. I would never say that either. I see no connection between you and my mother. well, you are both left handed and you get flour on your nose when you make a pie like she does.. thats about it.

So, I asked your brother’s wife and she said she never said it. If she did she made it up because I know I never told her that.

2. I can not help how Your brother feels. I can not help how his children act towards you. The kids were 8 and 9 when you were her
and they got to know you a bit. They really liked you. I know their dad is extremely hurt and that of course will make a person lash
out with anger. I have alway told roy to be nice to his sister (you).

3. Victim? I dont consider myself a victim of you at all. I am saddend by the path our lives have taken. I knew you needed to go on
your own and I have known that if you ever needed me I would be here for you. We all do what we need to do. I have never told anyone that you are an unappreciative daughter. Of What?

4. Sexual abuse. I remember your first husband calling when you had left and saying that you had been sexualy abused. I thought he was talking about your dad. he said that I had grabbed your breast. I did that sometimes but it wasnt sexual. In order for something to qualify as sexual abuse there needs to be sexual gratification on the offenders behalf. that was certainly not the case.

Now you tell me that you remember sexual abuse from the time “we” were very young. Guess what Michelle I remember everything that happened in your childhood also. You feel your brother is demented from all the sexual abuse? Why? Because he doesnt
remember the sexual abuse he suffered? Well, I asked him and he told me that you would try to get him to remember..”come on, you remember” over and over. Well, he doesnt because he wasnt.
that said, I relaize feelings are real and you seem very strong about yours. I would suggest you look into

Definition: (note *she’s defining my “condition so she can “help” me)

False memory syndrome is a condition in which a person’s identity and interpersonal relationships center on a memory of a traumatic experience that is objectively false but that the person strongly believes. Note that the syndrome is not characterized by false memories as such. We all have inaccurate memories. Rather, the syndrome is diagnosed when the memory is so deeply ingrained that
it orients the individual’s entire personality and lifestyle—disrupting other adaptive behavior. False memory syndrome is destructive because the person assiduously avoids confronting evidence that challenges the memory. Thus it takes on a life of its own; the memory becomes encapsulated and resistant to correction. Subjects may focus so strongly on the memory that it effectively distracts them from coping with real problems in their life.

I remember a time when you were between 4-5 and you started hanging on the doors…it was at the Daisy apt. After awhile I thought thats weird. One day I said Michelle why are you doing that…yhou freaked out and started crying and said the devil was making you do that.
That was about the same time I found you and your friend with your panties off in your bedroom…remember. she was supposed to spend the night but i drove her all the way home.

So I am a strong believer in a person’s reality. I can honestly tell you that I never viewed you or your brother in a sexual manner. I never derived any sexual pleasure from you as children. All I can think is something happend that made you feel a certain way for you.
If that makes you angry Im sorry but I can not agree with that….because for me it isnt true. If it was true I would tell you. I think you may have percieved something as sexual that wasnt. I doubt you thought that at an early age. Probably when the therapist told you youd been sexually abused these things start to get realized.

About my therapist. I had been going to her for about two years for a couple times a week. My therapist knew me inside and out. She didn’t send you to someone else because I had never told her. why would I have told her? Believe me I told that poor girl some crazy stuff. she actrually helped me alot. I am not going to go tell her something that never happened. You or roy were never a sexual object to me ever. so if you experienced something and you may have….that was your feeling not mine. TRUTH

emotional and mental abuse

I agree …you were my support emotionally. I already knew that and I knew you needed to get out from under that. I can understand.

Michelle, when i dropped off the stuff at your front door it was a comforter I was supposed to mend for you. It wasnt you child hood things. I wouldn’t even have your childhood things you’d been married for two years or so. that is definitely a false memory.

Im not a big fan of using the word “sorry” to fix anything either. It’s just a gesture…doesnt change anything. I see now how unhealthy my behavior was then. it took me awhile to understand but then I did. That is why I know you want your space and I have left you alone.

Michelle I never said I had you do you could love me. I wanted to have you so I would have something of my own that no one could take from me.

Yes I remember how I acted when you were going to get married. Your dad was so angry. he was right…that never should have happen. You were way to young emotionally and not ready for marriage. Plus he didnt trust your fiancé . I felt like it was the end of the I was going to die. I think it was then I knew I had a problem or was starting to know. We were together so much that I had not developed any friendships. but I dont really have a lot of friends to this day. I would call that abusive…I was a freaked out mom. I wasnt doing it to make you feel badly. I was afraid i guess.

People always say that their parents did the best they could. that always pisses me off because I agree the damage is still there with the child. I understand that and agree.

I want you to know that I dont talk badly to your brother’s children you. I dont talk badly about you at all. I just say youre gone.
well no one asks because they dont know you. I asked your brother’s daughter why she was rude to you…I asked his son too..I think they feel youve wornged them some how. I rarely talk to them. Its been several months since Ive spoken to them.

You think that people sit around and gossip about you? not true
Like who? I hardly ever even talk to your brother and I havent talked to his wife since she left the state a couple years ago. so whos talking?

The email your brother showed me was when you were upset about his daughter and you said she acted mean and nasty like mom. thats all

I agree your brother has been angry but hes getting better. it was a good thing for him to move back to California. He always tells me I should go to your house I should go find you. when you were in the hospital he told me I should go there. So he cares. Hes just super super hurt.

he might do better now because he fels better with his life and is more positive. he doesn’t seem as angry as he was. Hes not a bad guy.

I know your brother got a lot dumped on him because he was here. When your dad was sick your brother was going to school so I didnt see much of him during that time. One day he came over to see his dad and I was sitting there and your brother said “Mom how are you doing all this everyday?”
Well, that was the week of his finals and after that he came and never left until your dad died. I didn’t ask him to he could just tell I couldn’t do it alone. He would sleep on the floor in his dads room in case he woke up….you know the story

My house was trashed when your dad died. your brother did alot of work on the house and helped me so much. I am grateful for that. they moved in with me until their house was built until january of 06. I wondered how it would be becasue id never lived by myself in my entire life.
I think it wast hen I started to realize a lot of thing Michelle. That was the turning point for me. I got to like living on my own. Of course I had my dogs with me and a few cats…so I wasnt really alone. I actually like to be alone.

Your brother’s son gets excited and stressed. he is really hard on himself and cares a lot about what people think. That is a stress factor in itself.
He doesnt have a demon in him. hes twenty years old and needs to go on his own. His daughter left at an early age. He is very different than his sister.

Im glad I asked you whats wrong. I have no problem with you telling me how you feel. We all have our feeling and and thats fine. I am not angry with you for doing what you needed to do. I understand. And I do like the person you are. why wouldn’t I?

Oh please I would never want the dynamic repeated with my mother. She seemed to think you were angry at me. My mother told everyone she was never able to bond with me. thats ok. Ive had to let her go.. a long time before she died.

So let me close by saying life is a journey and we make this journey on our own. It took me longer than most to start my own journey.
You don’t have to agree with what Ive said or understand. this is where I stand.

You are my daughter. I do not own you. I do love you. I do care about you. And I like the person you are! hannah said she was shocked by how much you are like me. I am not trying to offend you.

May peace fill both our lives.
Bless you! Bless Baba!
Love Mom
Long ago I never understood what I was doing with my life.
I thought everyone cried everyday. I thought everyone was like me and so I couldn’t understand how they could hold down a regular job for years and be happy. I tried and it never happened. The confinement was suffocating plus I always attracted stalkers. It’s about me I know and I kept moving forward totally submerged in the muck of the mystery. (It’s Her Secret) The mystery back then was ominous and heavy. I carried a black switch to either beat myself or beat back the enemy. (still moving through the dangerous place in search of the Golden Her) I was attracted to the poison -to the killer of my peace. What’s wrong?
I don’t know, but it’s big. It’s a big moving snake taking over my hole. Maybe it’s just me? There aren’t many places left to hide for any of us. It doesn’t matter if She
can admit what she did. It only matters that we gave her the chance. It doesn’t matter who is right, it matters who is seeing the deepest. Between two people only the scab is left.
The infection is due to poisons. The scar is due to courage and to sunlight. She is always shining
in places we won’t look and that’s where we should go if we are healing from an infection.
Courage gives us the strength to see everything
that happened. To remember to open the can of worms that squirm beneath the places we won’t grow. The worms are the bait. We are shamans.
Shaman which means master of the worm (as far as I’m concerned anyway.) And I agree, worms are snakes that feel safer, easier to control.
We will ride the big one though and let me remind you- He put her there for your recovery. The biggest snake of all.
He put Her there to set the mood. He put Her there to shake you up. He put her there to put you here. She is threaded through you because of Him. Where you find me, we become the Queen of Dark Waters. Dark Places and Dark Faces. We lead them all to the other side- to the forbidden land of unseen things. The things that nightmares are made of.
If someone taught me that I was filled with the Devil at 5 years old what hope did I have but to meet Him? How will She ever understand who She bore from the dark womb of Her secret?
The secret She silently fed me until I almost started feeding it to others- but I stopped and caught the tail of that snake! I will not be the One
to carry your secret! Thank you for asking why
because that’s a good question and that’s a long story. It’s a place too forbidden to enter -but I went there. He took me there. He held me under Her dark water until I almost died. I was nearly a ghost seeing only colors and fumes. Remembering only what she fed me. Then He hung me upside down on a meat hook far out in the field and let the poisonous blood slowly drip out until I turned cold and white. I owe it all to Him. The maker of my grief, laughing at me hanging upside down…bleeding out my pathetic
excuses and guilt. Bleeding out poisons way older than I was. This was the myth that took ages to tell. She doesn’t believe me? She’s in control? I’m insane? This is the same story over and over again. No Mom, I was there when the book was written. I read it too many times to be wrong. The snake always hides under the rock
until it’s lifted…then she slithers to get away or He strikes her. it’s up to you. I prefer the strike. I prefer the dancing and the hissing. I prefer the living over the dead.

Can you see how stable and caring she sounds. Don’t be tempted ever to doubt yourself, even if it’s easier.
I’ve imagined it all and my perspective and paranoia and confusion have taken their toll?
I tell you my friend, trust yourself! You know what happened! You aren’t imagining it. It was a big deal that you were handed. We don’t need to hide from ourselves or help them hide and since she asked I told. He knew from the start where I would have to go. Treading insidious waters, we
must not be deceived or tricked into self doubt. That’s our # 1 rule in this mission He said. “Trust yourself”

Warning: Now things are about to get graphic. I haven’t even skimmed the surface…but I owe it to Her to remind her of a couple examples, just in case she might be willing to go there with Him. I do what He tells me and it’s His silent guidance that I
follow like a bird going south or a bat leaving its cave…..

Dear Mom

My brother’s wife DID say it. Those EXACT WORD.
“I would not even like her if she were not my daughter”

I DO NOT have a syndrome. Nothing imagined.

For example :
you don’t remember the time in the apt
we lived in when I was in kindergarten and we were in the area where the sink and mirror was outside the bathroom and you had your legs spread open with no underwear on and my brother was touching you for at least several minutes and you let him. Then after a while you were crying telling him it was wrong what he did and he should never do it again. Then he felt ashamed and started crying. You deny this happened?
Well I reminded him several years ago and he knows what I’m talking about even if he pretends not to.

You deny having us touch you sexually when we were young? Seriously you deny this?

My aunt said she knew you were “mean”
I told her how you cut my hair that day- remember? After beating me and laying on top of me in the hallway in mar vista house and hacking off my hair screaming?
You denied that happened when I brought it up when I was 18- remember? You started screaming and then slapped my face and told me to get out of the car

(I only told my aunt because she was concerned about what could have happened to me- I’m not just a inappreciative and cold hearted daughter- who dumped her mother for no reason other than selfishness or whatever)

You don’t remember beating us? Trying to suffocate me when we lived in the duplex? (In one of your rages)
You pushed me on your bed and laid on top of me covering my mouth so I couldn’t breath? You don’t recall?

It’s called denial and selective memory.
I’m sorry. But I do remember everything
even if you won’t or can’t deal with it.

And yes, not too long after dad got mad at me for not wearing a shirt (in the duplex during your night job timeout I was about 8 )
I did wake up topless in the bed next to him one morning- with only underware on. I didn’t take my top off, or my pants. he did. I don’t remember anything else except that I felt something was really wrong when I woke up in the morning sleeping next to him without a shirt or pants on.

I have so many examples but it’s not about me convincing you or proving anything. Thanks for writing back. I love you but I don’t see any reason for going back and forth. I’m not confused or fantasizing or exaggerating even slightly.

Love Michelle

Ps you of all people should know that children who were sexually abused always act it out with other children. its a major sign of sexual abuse.

“gray are my dreams
hidden from you
when I’m hiding
gray is my capsule
asleep holding on
dream god of gloom
awake is my semblance

bleak mountain tears
figments and phantoms
lost broken hearts
when torn is my soul
from the night
night is my acorn

soft white lights
thru dream windows
turning the god
cracking open
my sleep

gray eyes that whistle
the hue and the tune
soft spoken dew
on the breath of the

(deep honey
found the flower)

Michelle I never sat with my legs open and had your brother touch me! That is sick! Are you kidding me?!
Yes! I deny sexually touching you or your brother !!
Ok, now your Dad had sex with you too! Why would you wake up next to him in the morning. I was always there in the morning.

Why do you keep bringing up your aunt? I talk to her everyday. Does she validate you in some way? Did my demented mother?
She just thought you were an angry person.

You are way out there Michelle! Your brother doesn’t remember because it didn’t happen!
I know I had anger problems and I was physically abusive to you and your brother. Makes me ill to think about it.
like you said you don’t want sorry the damage is done.

You know it was smart of you to not have kids. that way you wont make any mistakes and youre good. but you lost out on a lot too.
You are extremely angry! I can not help you with the stories you have created. So sexual, its weird.

No wonder you don’t want to even talk to me and your boyfriend couldn’t stand me either. Your first husband turned on me too. Makes sense now.

If you thought your dad did something to you why didn’t you tell me. Is this what you’ve been telling people.

Oh, Michelle….I feel sorry for you…you are confused.


you’ve made this stuff up in your head. No one else remembers it but you. Cant ask your dad hes not here.
is that what you were telling my mom and your aunt?

well, if your brother’s wife said that I said that about you she was telling a lie!

You should go talk to someone. I have a feeling this all came to you when you started therapy. so now you are telling me your dad had sex with you
when you were eight. How can that be? You were a virgin when you got married. I think you might be messed up Michelle. You wanted to get married so badly but
you wouldn’t even have sex with the guy for weeks. that isn’t normal.

I think you might have some sexual issues. First you didn’t want sex with your husband …then you were a stripper. Something isn’t right,

I don’t even know what to say.

I cant agree with you on something that didn’t happen. I do remember I was mean that’s true..but getting sexual arousal from my kids..not true!

love mom

P.S.did you know my grandfather spent the last 42 years of his life in Agnew Asylum for the Insane in California. he died there in 1968.
I finally located his grave the other day.
Dear Mom,
Yes you did. I didn’t say that you touched us.
No the therapist did not put ideas in my head.
I never said i had sex with my father. I just told you what happened.
You worked overnight then, remember?
My brother won’t tell you anything. He is totally shut down emotionally.
I brought up my aunt in response to your email.
Yes I have had issues around sexuality because of the sexual abuse and
coursing through my family. Like I said before, I am not angry, I am honest.
Love, Michelle
p.s.i did not inherit insanity.

She goes on that I am spreading lies about her and continually attempts to convince me of my imaginary memories and how it was somebody else besides her that may have done these things and now she has started searching for the culprit. What can I do but
ease her burden? At least she tried and that’s all we can hope for. Intention is everything and her intention is enough for me. I love her and after all am only her child this time. None of it means anything to me anymore. I understand I am The Serpent Queen. I was her daughter before He saved me. However, it wasn’t over. She will not stop so I figured He wanted to push this. Do you wonder who He is? When He tells me to tell you I will. Normally He stays hidden. He’s the one making everything happen exactly when it should.

Your brother has always known what you were talking about. I told him he has to tell me so he did. Not sure why he would never tell you.
Hope this resolves some issues for you. I would not have thought that was a big deal so I wouldn’t remember it. Curiosity at that age is
pretty normal according to the experts.
Anyway he said I could send you this.

(she sent me a file with email interactions between her and my brother. Apparently he now admits the interlude but says he was only a curious child “poking his mother’s genitals”) so she continues to ask to go deeper….which is fine with me. I can’t stop laughing! It’s not about me anymore. I dropped that load years ago…

Everyone know Serpents Queens eventually grow wings!

Dear Mom,
NO my brother is in denial too. You sat there with your legs spread and let him do it. It lasted longer than a “poking”
then afterwards you told him how bad it was that he did this and he started crying and was very upset.
This is sexual abuse. You two can tell each other whatever you want. If thats what it takes for you both
to live with this energy then that is up to you two. Me and my brother had both touched your body parts prior to that
when we were very young. We were sleeping with you in a bed in someone’s house. Dad wasn’t there. it happened
more than once. You are both so intent on not facing the sexual issues in this family.
And also, you had me read letters you were going to give your therapist to read about the sexual interactions between
you and your brothers in your basement i think it was when you were kids. Now you are saying you just ‘hit each other”
I suppose you deny giving me those letters to read too?

My brother just can’t face the truth. You let him do it and you put YOUR shame onto him. I was there. I saw it all.
funny how you can’t remember until he reminds you? Plus I DID wake up in bed with dad. with no shirt and only
underwear on and that night you WERE gone all night. So i don’t really care how you justify or deny or make light of
what you did and what happened in our childhood and you can get all the backup you want from my brother but you are both
deeply in denial of what happened and what you did to him. Also, coming into the bathroom while we are bathing
grabbing at us and asking if we have any “hair” yet is deeply perverse and invades our space. You never gave us
any space. You bought me a diary and then took it and read it.

I am sorry that you both can’t handle what occurred and it was a childhood of perversion, abuse, boundary invasion,
instability and these days they take children away from those kinds of parents.

oh and also, we were in lake tahoe camping and you and dad had sex right next to me in the tent. I was a teenager.
No i wasn’t asleep. I couldn’t deal with it, and was deeply disturbed for weeks. This is sick behavior and couldn’t you
two control yourselves? Seriously?

Calling me a slut for doing nothing and dad beating me until I had cuts and bruises would land him in jail today.
You think its all no big deal? its a huge deal. Then going to the demented jehovah witness church the next morning
like a ‘good family’ I couldn’t even control the crying. I was so traumatized. So dad can’t talk to me ever or show love
unless he’s drunk but he can beat his teenage daughter with a paint stick?
you want to keep finding ways to justify your behavior and thats up to you.

clearly my brother is emotionally violent to talk about me the way that he does. can’t you see anything clearly?
what isn’t owned now, comes with us after we die. Whatever you know in your deeper consciousness that
you won’t look at honestly now, will determine the conditions of your next rebirth.

you should really come to terms with what you did. i didn’t forget or misunderstand. Why would I think (at 4 or 5)
that I ‘had the devil in me?” who in the world had introduced that perversion into my mind?

interesting how you remember being in the crib but don’t remember your young son “poking” your genitals.
So please leave me alone with your lawyer emails after having done the research, collected the evidence and got
the jury to determine you are ‘not guilty”
it means absolutely nothing to me . Please just leave me alone. I remember. I was there.
everything i said stands true. I love you both and pray for you both every day. I pray for myself too. I don’t think I’m enlightened” (like my brother says)
but I do trust myself and I’ve taken responsibility for my actions the best that i can. I do all I can to purify my mind so that I will not fear death,
so that I be at peace with who I have become despite all odds.

Love, michellle

p.s. one more thing you should know. I was very young and sleeping at my step grandmother’s house in a room one night with
my two aunts – suddenly during the night the door opened and my grandfather came in (much different than i was used to seeing him)
and he was enraged and his face was so distorted (I had never been afraid of him before) and he ripped his belt off and then went for
( I can’t remember which aunt it was) one of them and the other grabbed me and we went and hid behind some kind of room
divider or something, and I believe during this time he was raping his teenage daughter. Probably had raped them both and would get drunk and
pick the daughter of choice that night…so another trauma to add to my young mind to work out. NO its not a fantasy, just another childhood memory.
*also, Mom if you just would use your lawyer nature on yourself it could be helpful.
how does a little 3 year old boy get between his mother’s legs?
It was graphic. He wasn’t reaching up poking at hair and he knows it.
YOU had your legs spread wide apart on the floor letting him do it.

Thats no different than a father letting his daughter “touch his penis”
because “she was curious’ that’s ok too?
NO- its SEXUAL ABUSE. NO way around it Mom.
Face what you were a part of and deal with it instead of trying to justify
it and then call me angry for bringing it up.

Plus like i said, it wasn’t the first time he had touched you. We both
did it starting much younger than that. I can still smell my hands.
ITS TRUTH and I’m not ashamed. I’m not a pervert. I am just
stating what happened. I have no problem facing the truth because
only the truth, no matter how bad or painful will set us free eventually.

You directly affected his sexuality in ways that he still can’t deal with
100% for SURE. You affected us both and you should take responsibility
for it, not for our sake (because its too late for that) but for you own sake.

Love, Michelle

I feel I said it all. Her Secret has finally expires.
I sat on the egg. I was the Mother of her child.
I have been blessed by Him. I hung and I bled and
I am now white with pure peace. I can also fly and not just slither. I can go as high as I can low. I blew her secret at her like a dandelion into the wind. My wish is
that she is released from the Secret that was
also given to Her to carry. It’s useless to
drink old blood…..
From Mom:
I will pray for you Michelle. I will not admit to something I never did…
there are not letters about a basement.
You were 10 in Tahoe and I couldn’t even sleep in the tent. I sat outside almost the entire night.
Now you both touched my body parts?
It just keeps going and going.
I think you need help.
Now your grandfather attacks a girl?
And you never say a word?

The bathroom is yet another distorted memory you have. I saw you had pubic hair…I didn’t come in and ask you anything. I said Michelle
do you have Pubic hair? You freaked and started crying. I was surprised because you were only 10.

Why would I ever give you letters to read about something like that….

I don’t need to defend myself anymore. You have so many false memories not all but all this sexual stuff is bizarre.
think what you want…because maybe that’s what you want to think
why don’t you ask your aunts if their father ever raped them?
they are still alive.

You want me to be guilty so there is nothing I can do.
Your memories are not real..they are real to you..but not factual

why do you need to believe all this sexual perversion…

why don’t you call your aunts and see if they were raped? What they would lie too.
It seems everyone is lying but you.

well, after our emails back and forth I can see you are really upset and determined to think what you choose.

I’m sorry you are so messed up from …I don’t know what..

I wont bother you again…you don’t want to believe me…you want me to be think it…but its not true
You think everyones everyone’s lying but you.
P.S. Maybe you were touching yourself and that’s why your hands smelled…You are way off and starting to creep me out. that’s some really sick stuff.
You don’t need to be set free you didn’t do anything…..

Love, Mom


Yes I know. You did it. Yes she did it….

so coyotes and black birds are her family now and the girl holding the white mother owl know way too much this time. During the day she’s merely a girl
but at night she becomes the Great Serpent Queen who flies over dark and forbidden places looking for her Mother whose name is Light.

Quietly she walked past the house
where the old man lived (it’s Him)
(ancient coral, lifelong face of steam)
she imagined His eyes watching her
move steadily out of his direction
knowing thru her what she wore
nobody knew but Him
the burning, hot and tired.
listening to her own feet shuffle,
the sound of his breath hung in the air
His house was old, just like Him
creeking, collapsing wisely beneath the pressures of time. He knew the way by now but she was afraid
to light that candle.
The candle that burned but never smiled. The candle He held.
She hadn’t decided until last night
that now was the time to go….
the sun was going down and she
knew the darkness was now upon her.
Hours that masked the horrors of a life sloping inside of nothing left to do or see, the grave was heavier than the shovel lying in his front yard.
So she walked, not knowing what else to do, each step harder than the last, each breath more shallow.

His house was on an old dirt road
sitting just across from the sea.
A lonely beach of sand and echos.

Deep inside of her beneath the waves a hand came reaching.
Not alive and not dead. Just a
gray twig that remembered the tree
beneath the glowing sea.

The moon was burning. White was the midnight sky. And as always He stood watching her moving away
into the folding Light….
I love you and I will find you Mom
wherever you are.
I will find you
and I will lift you into the Light.
Sharada Devi


What I’ve given to you
(is just)
the smoke up my sleeve

How would I do it?
How would I be somebody?
when the fire behind the curtain
Has burned away the show?

I offer you ashes
I offer you tears

upon and through the ground…
smearing blood and memories

(me the one as black as you)

me the one melting
me the one sighing
me the one with nothing on

(me the one burning. me the one crying)

making clouds
to pass the time…

(me the one as white as heaven)

I free the earth of her burden
to pretend for me any longer
that something important has
to happen
for both of us to know…

for both of us to know
how we must return to you

a heart burnt to ashes
a heart washed with tears

we found you inside the
smoke and sunshine
as light and whistles
and moving rain

we found you small and
actually not hurt at all…
just a baby
playing with Her Mother

There is an old hag of a woman who lives not far away from us and she is a witch. She isn’t a good fairy witch or just another new age witch. She’s a wicked witch, literally. She is the kind of witch you only read about and never think could actually exist. We had heard about her and knew she was a master herbalist.
So we went looking for her as she is very hard to find. The day we went to meet her she was standing in her yard, broken brownish teeth, intense probing eyes and a lilting spooky voice. The hidden land she lived upon had huge rock crags, knarled up trees and a massive dark water swamp. This swamp was eery, with a quiet and heavy death like stillness-like dead bodies have been dropped into it for many years and the witchy earth spirits floating above the layer of fog hovering over the water were the guardians of this wicked land protecting what was being hidden here. Cats with ears bitten half off perched in the trees above the dark waters, some holding dead mice in their mouths…all the while large black birds circled in the sky above us.

We didn’t know yet, but she chose us.
Actually she chose me. Once again I was naive and got too close to that side of Her…I always seem to go there…don’t fall in…..I know better now. On the fateful day of our meeting I brought her a willow tree- little did I know that a willow tree was a witch’s tree….and when I handed it to her and she looked at me I felt a sharp psychic twinge as the spirits surrounding her were somehow alarmed by me or found me to be energetically disturbing…quickly she looked me up and down and her head jerked and her eyes darted back and forth -and I knew things would get creepy between us, and they did, right away. Demons are all around us. Don’t waste one more second telling yourself it’s not true. This was a scary old woman you would never believe really existed. She’s someone from a fairy tale, from a bad movie, from a haunted house, from another time and place -certainly not here….but she was here- and now she’s real. I would say certainly she is an Ancient Mother on a mission to consume
whatever it is we have left to give Her. Depending on which side of Her you approach, the results will be quite different. You cannot always trust the twilight. Don’t tempt the God’s to teach you twice.

After that day she began to think about me quite a bit, more than I was comfortable with….I had come too close to the witch’s waters and surely She wanted to push me. Beware. Be careful. Don’t be naive. It’s your fault if you fall, remember me Dreamchild because just like that, I’ll drop you, I’ll burn you, I’ll reel you into my realm where light is irrelevant and we peek and we search. Where dark is relative and we bury and we push….deeper and deeper into the pile where Christ is buried (remember me? We’re already here and looking) I knew the game and I got caught anyway… She then began making her astral visits to me in the very early morning hours. She was coming from the cackles of the graveyard from deep below you and I. If you don’t know already, I can’t explain astral travel or visitation.
I can however tell you that when she approached and made contact with me her banshee realm would open
(kind of like a hole opening in a wall to the room behind it) and she would move quickly toward me just skimming her feet right above the surface of whatever ground she came from- it was a dark and howling place, with ghouls and night crawlers surrounding her. The energy was dense, chaotic and demon charged. And like lightening at midnight I would be struck….That’s what I know, it was a dark and dense witch realm and it’s not like there’s not wisdom to be had from these places…but the vibration she emerged from and emanated, wasn’t something I could resonate with…so she’d skim in and come right up in my face and deliver her “witch message of the day” and I had a problem because I needed to get rid of her, sever the connection.

Where is it that I know you from and do you remember me?

floating in the midnight sky
as black as the face of an
empty cloud
nobody can see the shrouded
and windless
unless I start dancing and singing
for those left behind
in another world
calling me
the dreamless catcher of the void

Yes I successfully severed the connection with the use of certain mantra, yantra, invocation and
intention to seal my astral body from hers….(as if I could ever leave Her behind -but I pretend it’s over, that I’ve moved on…)

I’m telling this story (and it’s true and they’re all true)
because I know people (and they don’t know I know this) who I’ve seen and who have demons literally hooked on them like tics or lice. They don’t realize their thoughts and actions are being controlled by the food needs of the demon they are hosting- usually there is one main one attached but there can also be little ones hooked on too….we have to be aware of the state of our pysche and the reality of witchcraft and possession and the need for an exorcism every now and then. I mean a real exorcism by a qualified shaman. Not some new age visualization of out a book at Barnes and Noble! The other thing is you must realize it takes like to conquer like- it takes one to know one sort of thing….the method and help you use must understand and be able to be darker than that darkness -a light brighter that knows…but can become all things in order to flip the mirror the other way- meaning, back to where it came from. Black magic is very real and there are a lot of vampires out there. I’ve also seen and experienced those who were once saints make obvious pacts with demonic/alien forces (probably for more power) and that’s a confusing one for the public who can’t see the transformation of this saint from light to the darkest of the dark…their eyes change, their voice becomes metallic, their movements are more jerky, and it’s something that is possessing the once pure Saint and feeding off of the energy of the devotees. It’s horrific and quite prevalent.

where will I ride you
haloed wild horse?
broomstick and matches
for the fire
I weed the mourning from
the dead
lift me higher above the cries
wings spread
heaven hanging loose
my friend
the night has taught me
pale and bloodless
where to find you

I was almost there. I traveled hours by plane from North India all the way to the southern tip of India to see Her. Now the driver was only miles away from the entrance gate to Her ashram.
When I arrived the first thing they did was take my passport. I found this alarming and suspicious as without your passport in India you are trapped- everywhere else I had been only required a photo copy. I had faith in this Saint though and so I ignored the warning signs and let them have it. Then I was given my room number and so went to unload my things. My room was in a high rise building on the 32 floor
and since at least one elevator was always broken I had to spend probably a couple hours a day constantly hiking up to my room. I was sharing my room with this hypochondriac control freak girl from Finland who clung to me the moment we met. It was very annoying -yet since
“Mother” as this girl called her wasn’t back yet
(She’d been away for awhile saving the world)
I was a sort of make do surrogate for her.
So that went on for about 2-3 weeks, dealing with the clingy Finland girl and basic slave labor in the kitchen and whatever other department needed it. Someone (and usually an American “devotee”)
would do heavy guilt laden recruiting every morning at breakfast- so you were basically stuck- forced into slave labor – but they called it “devotion to Mother” or seva. Since She was due to arrive back at the ashram after months of being away the whole place was in a frenzy of cleaning and preparing for Her return. Every night the devotees would gather under a massive covered patio type thing with a huge picture of Her (probably about 50 feet high) and chant songs to Her. The men on one side and the women on the other. The men and women were very paranoid of each other due to fear of attraction which would distract from their devotion to Mother- so if I even looked at a male there politely and smiled they would just return my smile with a stern and silent look of disgust as if if to say ” don’t be a slut” seriously it was
strange. So after a couple weeks with the Finland girl I just couldn’t take her neediness anymore so when someone told me about the “secret silent dorm” I knew I had to go. The silent dorm was in the older building just above the Kali Temple. It’s hard to get accepted in to the silent dorm- it’s pretty much only for the die hard devotees- some who have been there for decades and have devoted their lives to “Mother” ” I will die here” I was told by one die hard with glassy eyes and a far off gaze who wore a white sari reeking of urine and carried a lunch box. (all the women’s saris smell like urine due to the floors in the bathroom being covered in piss)
So the day I was taken for my “interview” to get into the silent dorm (silent meaning you don’t talk to each other you only think of “Mother” and stare at pictures of Her) we walked down the dark narrow hallway with its chipped and stained walls, the smell of urine filling the air as the “bathrooms” we’re nearby. Finally we arrived and knocked on the door- slowly the door creaked open with a Cathy Bates looking women in a white sari just staring at us with disapproval. She looked me up and down with disgust (once again, this was a big deal here-not to be a slut and I guess my neck or arm was showing or something and that was considered provocative) it seemed She really didn’t like me (come to find out she acted like that to everyone) after a few questions and a lot of staring me intensely in the eyes I got accepted.
When I arrived with my things I was warned that I needed a lock for my suitcase because apparently there was a thief in the dorm who was into stealing from newcomers suitcases. I was told the head Swami (Cathy Bates look alike)
was the suspect but nobody dared to accuse her)
I was also told that after washing my clothes I couldn’t leave them hanging to dry on the rooftop lines overnight as “Mother said the spirits love to play in the clothes at night”
Anyway, it was a weird and scary scene. Words cannot describe how creepy it was. Most of them sat around cooking on their individual propane stoves eating at all hours of the day and just staring at each other or pictures of Mother.
Cathy Bates Swami sat up in the corner all night long every night with a candle lighting her face staring at a picture of Mother. The way the candle lit her face was straight out of a horror movie. There was a big asian girl devotee to in the silent dorm who used to come over to me every morning as I was putting my white sari on so that she could “help me with it.” I felt she did this in order to fondle me as she would grab and pat the sari around choice body parts for way too long grunting and wheezing with excitement all the while under her breath mumbling “Radhe. Radhe” I didn’t know how to stop her as I felt very sorry for her. She sat around eating all day and at night she would have these bad nightmares in which she would always scream for “Ma” I was warned in advance but nothing could really prepare me for her terrifying nightmare screams that were to come that night.
I couldn’t sleep. Everyone had a mosquito net around their bed but me. So I was laying awake listening for the buzzing of mosquitos. Amidst all the paranoid energy in the silent dorm I was feeling quite neurotic myself and so had been awake for hours imaging hundreds of mosquitos biting me in the night. All of a sudden the sleeping big Asian girl started screaming Maaa!!! Maaaa!!! there was a terror in her piercing screams that is indescribable. While she was screaming Cathy Bates Swami stood up from in the corner of the room where she had been doing her nightly ritual of staring at Mother’s picture by candlelight and picked up a pillow. With the pillow in both hands she walked over to me laying in my bed (she didn’t know I was awake) and held the pillow a few inches from my face and bent over and stared really closely at me (I had squinted my eyes pretending to sleep at this point) I could hear her breathing and smell her bad warm breath on my face.
I was trapped beneath the upper body of a very large and intense woman as she bent over me with the pillow almost as if she was trying to make up her mind whether or not to kill me. I thought for sure she was going to try to smother me with the pillow. I was totally frozen in fear to say the least. Suddenly screaming big asian girl shot up in bed which broke the spell and Cathy Bates Swami stood up straight and walked back to her corner. My heart was racing and I was horrified beyond description. I laid there praying to make it through the night. The next day I decided to leave but it would take time to pull it together and for now that meant staying a few more days in the silent dorm. It seemed all would be ok and I would make it after all, no more attempts to kill me, no more nightmares until two nights prior to my departure.
It was about 2 a.m. and once again I was not asleep (how could I sleep?) and from out of the dark of night I heard a blood curdling scream way beyond the nightmare scream of the big asian girl. This was the scream of a woman being murdered. I know what I heard. It sounded like it started up high from the top of a building and moved down through the air just outside and not too far from the Kali Temple where the silent dorm was. The screaming began and after 30-45 seconds stopped. Then just dead silence. I was so mortified and in shock of what I had just heard I didn’t know what else to do but once again pray fervently to survive until the morning. The next morning I went around asking what happened. “Did you hear the woman screaming last night?” “What happened last night?” and on and on I went asking. My inquiries were met with ominous blank stares. I could not believe this was happening. I know I wasn’t the only one to hear this. I know they were either lying to cover something up or just totally in denial like any good cult follower. It was hopeless and it fell dangerous to pursue the source of the screaming any longer. I just wanted to leave still alive! Later that day when I went to the office to get my passport to leave the man at the desk just stared at me (staring was a big thing here) as if he wasn’t hearing me. Then I asked again and he went in a back room for a long time talking to someone about my request. Again, I just prayed and hoped I didn’t look to anxious to get out. Finally he came back and without saying a word threw my passport on the countertop and walked away.
Everyone was still in the frenzy of activities since
Mother’s return. Seems that human sacrifice might just be one of those activities. I don’t have proof I only know what I heard. I can’t talk about my personal one on one experiences with Mother in India lest I draw Her closer to me or awaken the black eyed beast! What I’m saying is this Mother Worship may have taken a turn…
something might be wrong. There could be a big demon who came and replaced Mother. She could have made a deal with the Devil. The ring of power is a dangerous ring to wear. When you start letting people hang 50 foot pictures of you up to worship BEWARE the end of goodness draweth near!

It’s a waste a trap
a black eyed beast
a shrinking sanctuary
this pillaged little
I call mine
I couldn’t make it last
this something real
I die for
I couldn’t find enough ways
to hide the chips and cracking places
I couldn’t hold it in
Her laughter broke it all

It’s a lunatic world. I’m sorry to say Her hysteria has taken its toll. Mother mostly has gone insane and we, as Her forlorn children are looking for Her real eyes. Her real smile. Her real voice.
Why won’t you break free like you promised? We made these vows and then we forgot. We promised to remember and then
we got stuck in the nest of this dimension’s peculiar slumber. It’s not a safe place where being merely naive or too weak to jump brings solace. It’s a convergence. A war of many worlds and multiple Medusa like Mothers vying for our devotion, compliance and our servitude. Unless we open up to what this is and see our plight and our commitment we cannot be of any use to The
Waxing Ones whose eyes always see us no matter how big or how small we have become.
We have responsibilities and obligations far greater than can be comprehended. But since they know what’s at stake, They keep watch.

Our Mother with Her Many Faces has endless wombs for us to get stuck in. We can stay inside for as long as we want and the agreement is -that She can twist and shift however and whenever She wants to. You thought this was just some benevolent coddling force here to rock us all back to sleep? To feed us? Yes it’s happening but BEWARE of HOW it’s happening.
Nobody broke the mold of the original and imposters loom large. And if we want to cherish
Her we should be careful where She comes from
and what our relationship with Her really is.
This is about us and Her and how we turn everyone into Her as long as we remain in denial that She may just very well be a Demon with Huge Breasts.

In the silence calling
the broken face
eyes redeeming
looking closely
for the piece
missing still

a whisper shatters
even a crier
moaning without sound
in a place where
there isn’t any
Something is missing
my eyes, my smile
deeper into the quiet
ascew with many mirrors
hanging from sharp edges
of what we left behind.

breath on me
with your open mouth
pull the quiet out
of the looker

It’s Me


Dear Mom,

I am not angry. I’m sorry to be misunderstood.
My brother however is extremely angry. I have never said a disrespectful or unkind word to any of my relatives even though you have all talked horribly about me. I find it deeply sad that my younger brother would call me names and abuse me through emails. I send him birthday gifts and things to help him (and my nephew too) and it’s all viewed as me “paying back what I’ve done by abandoning the family” that is very perverse thinking.
If ignoring the truth is called love and loyalty I cannot be a part of it.
My brother’s wife told me in Idaho that you said if I wasn’t your daughter you wouldn’t even like me as a person- that you don’t like who I have become.
And who is it that I have become? How would you even know? You do not know me because you can’t accept me as an individual who is much different than you. I remind you of your mother? What’s wrong with that? There’s a problem here much larger than you or me or the individual. It’s called the family shadow. Hard to see and find but it controls everything going on
with everyone. Without a spiritual practice all hope of basic sanity is lost. You think I’m delusional and living in a fantasy world and I preach what I don’t practice? Totally untrue.
You don’t know me because you actually don’t want to. My family does not appreciate me because none of you understand my motivation or intention and most likely wouldn’t agree or approve if I told you.

Also this idea that you are somehow my victim.
I’m this unappreciative daughter who abandoned her mother. Why would you let people think this?
My Aunt, your sister, was confused about this portrayal of me but said she suspected something.
What’s the use in playing the victim of me or of your own mother? I’m not your victim because I did something about what happened to me. I made it valuable by my processing of it. You don’t have to agree. It’s still true.

If you can be honest with what happened in our childhood you would see that it’s quite astounding who I’ve become. I don’t lie or deny or abuse or conceal. I remember everything that happened in our childhood. I remember the sexual abuse when we were very young. Maybe you are in denial about what you did. It has really
demented my brother’s mind you know.
I remember everything.

Also the physical emotional and mental abuse-
it takes a lot to undo the damage of having to be your emotional support for the first 18 years of my life. Taking care of you was too much. You dropping off my childhood things at the door to manipulate me was not right. I am a person in my own right. Your therapist told me I could no longer see her because you had told her nothing about what you did to me- so she felt it was wrong to hear from me what you had not yet revealed about yourself- so she sent me to the other therapist and he told me to do what I did- he told me to get space from you. You can’t see how unhealthy your behavior was? Saying you are sorry “for whatever you did” is fine but the damage goes much deeper and space is needed to move beyond the family programming. I’m sorry if you don’t agree. But I am not angry. The suppressed anger I had about 20 years ago has long since transformed itself into something more productive.

You said you had me so I could “love you” that’s not what children are for. You were my mother,
not the other way around. Remember how you acted when I was going to get married?
You have been very abusive to me.

I understand that you and my father did your best (whatever that means) but that doesn’t negate the damages that you did.
I have been on my own and it’s not easy but it’s been necessary.
My brother’s children talk to me the way that they do (extremely disrespectful)
-because of how they have heard you and my brother talk about me. I should be treated with respect by my younger brother and his children if they were conscious at all. This abuse and gossip isn’t about me. It’s about the person doing it. Where would the compassion be for a daughter and sister gone astray?
I’m not responsible for any of it. I feel sad for all of you negating my value and accusing me of holding some position. I hold no position and make no claims on anything. I just am who I am.
Which you have no idea who that is because holding onto the past doesn’t work. Like that was the “real me” now I left the family and I’m
a fake?

Whatever email my brother sent you to make me seem angry is ridiculous and out of context.
He has been so hateful and abusive to me I feel
sad for him. I have dozens of long emails from him calling me names and abusing me. I never retaliated. He’s angry because he doesn’t know how to deal with what happened to him and because he said ” I left and made him take care of you” I told him that’s not my fault because taking care of you wasn’t his responsibility- you are his mother.
Now his son is having panic attacks?
There is darkness in hiding secrets especially from oneself. His son has inherited this. It’s all unconscious absorption of the family shadow.
The demon finding a new host to keep the bloodline going. I won’t be a part because I can’t.

I’m not angry but you seem to want the facts on why I may not be into the family loyalty. I’m surviving and I have awareness and courage regardless of your thinking otherwise-I respect you as my mother and so would never say these things until you asked. I have not hidden from my anger, sadness or grief.
I will never be angry at you or my brother -what good would that do? It’s just very sad how you all feel you can disrespect me and
never say anything nice about who I might be.
It’s you that has missed out on a lot simply by not being honest with yourself about how deep the damage goes when you do what you did to us.

Why would you spend a lifetime angry at your mother? What’s the point? It’s just one lifetime,
one relationship out of much deeper karmic connection that is beyond this body or personality. She was also abused. It just goes on….why do you think I wouldn’t have children?
Because I wouldn’t want to do to anyone what was done to me and I realized it was a power larger than the individual that would force me to pass on the abuse in my own special way…

I am not who you think I am. The love you think I don’t have is an illusion based on projection.
I will not recreate the dynamic you had with my grandmother. I send you only the deepest love and I pray for you and I love you regardless of how misunderstood my actions are. I do not pray to forgive you. I am not holding a grudge. I pray that you and me and all beings be free from the suffering that attachment to this illusion brings.

This life is bigger than the both of us. I personally have a responsibility to transmute whatever shadow I carry based on my ancestors.
You don’t have to agree or understand.
But that’s where I’m coming from. I know it’s not personal. I am not seeking solace or advice or confessions or apologies. I do not want a trial or debate. I am not meaning to preach either.

I’m only saying these things to you because you asked. I wouldn’t do it otherwise.


So I roll over again and again becoming the angst. Becoming the dark. Becoming the song
that haunts this love. Giving Her whatever She asks for as long as it’s the Truth. A lonely memory of what could have been but never was. The grief we bare for Her. At this point it’s obvious that we have nothing left to give but our Masterpiece of Madness. The beauty of our pain. The haunted
unrequited anguish of our tears untouched by little hands. We misunderstood so much! I miss them both, I really do. We can never take it back or bring it back, the moment we took or left or didn’t pay attention to. The hug we never got or gave is lost forever now. I could have kissed your tears and instead I did nothing. Now they’re gone forever as fading scars upon our souls. Do it now. Invite her back into you as a song bird or a slithering snake. Invite her back as a doorway down or a widow’s peak. Just get Her back and figure out what went wrong. The secret is (always left) inside where they live.
Dear, sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes we reach too high looking at it all wrong. Sanctifying the Illusion instead of satisfying the Redeemer. Remember, the lower you go,
the less you leave behind. Memories attack us and leave scars when we push back too hard.
This isn’t a battle of me against Her. It’s just me and you my beloved. Her memories lock us in Her prison and the day lasts forever. We did it all for Her. We killed ourselves. What should I forget and what should I remember? The question is what can I possibly do to love you? Only the Dancer can answer that question. And we’re moving in Her space as lust and hate and greed and you think it’s hidden, what we do in the dark? You think Mother doesn’t tempt you and provide for you all that you need to go back to sleep?
I said I love you over and over but what did I do behind my words? How did I hurt you with my silence? Where is She now?
This Masterpiece of Madness, I write with such a clever moving hand. Writing my lies to be with you again and again clipping and ticking, scratching and scribbling, keeping thoughts and keeping time. My Mother weaves and skips like moonlight far behind me.

the soft earth
under the tree
layers of death
unflinching decay
the truth is all around us
I sit here under the tree
upon the past moving over
huddled in twos
a wet seamless worm
lives in the process
of the sequence
of the matchless
earthbound eyes
looking everywhere
nothing is forgotten
under the tree

Wake the Dead.
Remember your Roots.
It’s me Dream Child.

Sharada Devi


She pulled the curtain back just a little bit to see if He’d left yet. The house was dark inside, He had been looking for her for days…(and it was only a matter of time) musky curtains and the shadowy room filled her throat with a unquenchable strangling, parched and aching with memories…
This was her Grandmother’s old decaying house. Her evil and unpredictable always smiling and humming a tune to herself evil Grandmother. Yes, her Grandmother had finally died, although nobody who knew her ever thought that day would come. She had the tenacity and grip of an Arizona Scorpion.
“Come lay in bed with me Mary”
she would call from her bed down the long, narrow, dingy hallway…
Her feelings were never right for the girl. The long baths together, the body inspections “you’ve got to be a clean girl Mary, pure for Jesus. No man of God wants to fuck a slut Mary. Your man will be your God and
whores don’t go to heaven. You need to keep it clean Mary. Keep it plump and ready for The Lord. After all, God made you so you could make him babies. Be a good girl Mary. Don’t spread your legs so much. Nobody wants a slut’s babies…”
Mary always smiled too, that is when anybody was looking. She hated everybody though, thru the smile of cracking teeth she knew she was just as evil as the wrinkled She Devil
that lived at the end of the hallway.
She hated herself really…that she could ever make a baby with a face like hers. A face that from a certain angle looked just like Grandmother when she was young. The girl had seen pictures. She knew more about Grandmother than Grandmother had told her. Oh no, those stories were selectively chosen and edited, tailored for the girls ears, always with a lesson of purity and chastity attached. Grandmother was intent
that Mary not become a “slut like her mother” but Mary never knew her Mother so it was a one sided and open ended endeavor down a dark
hallway where the Mary Mother of God Altar was, right across the hallway from Grandmother’s room. The place where Mary was sent regularly to pray and repent for her “lies and impure thoughts” somehow only Grandmother knew these lurked inside the Girl. Grandmother knew everything.
“Poor Grandmother” the girl would tell her mangy, tabby cat, this cat Sheiba, her only loyal friend and confidant, the only one who really knew and understood according to Mary. The girl found the cat she named Sheiba under a low thorny bush in a field behind the house one stormy night, abandoned by her mother, starving for love it seemed to the girl. So the relationship began and Grandmother was tolerant with the friendship. It worked out well for Grandmother because she always had a hostage, a way to threaten Mary, a great fear to hang over her
filthy head. “I will mutilate this mangy cat you little bitch, if you don’t stop
swinging your hips like that” “I will put this thing in a bag with bricks and drop it into the creek if you don’t
stop watching those pornography movie films in this house. Don’t think I don’t hear you up late at night. God help me!” Of course the girl wasn’t guilty of the accusations but this was the world, the law, the house, the fate of Mary according to Grandmother. “Poor Grandmother” the girl would say stroking Sheiba while she purred on Mary’s lap.
“Poor Grandmother will never get me clean. Poor, poor Grandmother has to raise a slut” at first the girl didn’t even know what the word meant until she finally got the courage to ask the neighbor who lived down the road one spring day. A shining and cheerful woman in overalls and a straw hat, tanned with a slightly weathered yet optimistic and attractive face. Her beaming blue eyes and warm voice made everyone like her right away. The girl slithered over to where the woman was picking some flowers behind her rambling and bright country house. with chickens and goats and a bubbling creek through the front yard adorned with a myriad of fruit trees, a well tended vegetable garden and flowers everywhere perfectly manicured in her garden one sunny spring day. The girl edged her way from bush to bush finally nearing the bent over woman dressed in overalls and a straw hat
with long blond hair in a ponytail down her back. “Why hello Mary, how are you? How is your Grandmother?” the girl stammered, shy and intimidated by the pretty woman “I’m ok. What’s a slut?”
The woman’s head jerked up sharply
“What Mary? Where have you heard such words? Why would you say this?”
“I’m a slut. I want to know what’s a slut”
“Mary do I need to talk to your Grandmother and tell her you are using dirty, nasty words? You need to get yourself to church more often young lady” Mary could see she had upset the pretty neighbor woman and didn’t know what to do next.
“I’m sorry” she whispered eyes turned down.
“Now tell your Grandmother I said hello and never use such words again. ”
“Ok” the girl said quietly turning back to Grandmother’s house. The place where Mary lived. Thinking to herself that “slut” meant dirty-meant nasty. “I should have known” the girl thought turning the knob of the big creaking front door. She looked up to the sign that wobbled everytime the door shut “God Bless This Home” always hanging a little crooked. The girl wondered why Grandmother never noticed.
Mary wanted to be clean like Grandmother, pure. A lover of God.
The girl never meant to be a whore.
She decided that day that she would be better, be cleaner. Pray more. Be just like Grandma…

But He was patient and She was His Queen.

Are you wondering why I write and I say such terrible things? Are you worried my mind is perverse? That I’m not who you thought I was?
Think again my beautiful companion. I’m not who I thought I was either.
I’m everywhere that counts. Everything is bleeding and red. I’m as white as a dove. It’s a riddle. The chaos takes off her clothes when She needs to. I told you I was a stripper. I wasn’t kidding. What’s to hide? That’s a lie, inside is where we store the dark. Outside can be anything. Your yoga pants don’t fool me.

So now here we are inside the hole. Did you think you might not have one? Or are you just filled with love?

My Human Parts
a deeper place than heaven
I found between my legs
when the whore found meaning
white knuckled freedom from pain
I caught her lying there
laughing opened
with cold hard eyes
she said to me,
“it isn’t hard to find the answers”
the cart it seems, is deeper than the well…the mirror from the broken bottom tells all sorts of wounds….
from a reflection that reaches…
fishing for food…hooks into looking places, or the cadaver and the portal to peace. The words are in segments, the listener gets caught…
don’t turn around like that…running toward the echo…the chamber in the well, her silo and predicament…
(to heal sick fish just like us in the
phantom waters of yesterday)

making something new this time…
the fish swim up into her- the whore
and she looks right through them.
Many men we find ourselves
attached to her laughing eggs
that never hatching groan
that leaches hot from hot
and me from you.
It’s at the bottom of what never
changes that I wait for tomorrow once again.
My love for her in lunacy pulling
trip from trap again and again.
What she says to me is not in words
Her opened mouth in deep revival
churns and spooks the willing
back back back and under
before whatever came.
The ecstasy was never real
pull out before its too late.
It was then that I knew
why she left me, hanging from
her, dangling for more….
Crying into my only ear.
I heard her say
“you got it backwards
lift up your leg and call it quits”
I only have one.
One within one.
fucking for peace.
No love without peace.
“Lay down your weapon
you are no lover like that
get out of me”
Chimes and bells and
wicked screams
filled my heart at once
who was free and hooked
and loved?
Who was “all that matters?”
lying beneath her,
I forgot it all.

Pretend my dear, that you do not hear. Hear the
reason you came closer. Because I know your eyes and I’m looking in that hole and you couldn’t close it and now it’s too late. You came to me as fear entering the valley. Shadows eclipsing and days that won’t end. You walked in and you found me waiting for you. I wasn’t who you wanted but I’m the only one there is. Nobody
else will live here shuffling demons and counting moons for you. I’m playing this game with you remember? It’s spooky now, where we find ourselves and we’re looking for someone else.
But it’s only me and you came and you said
“I need you to help me. I need something”
Ok that’s what I heard. That’s what I always hear.
Through you smile and your glitter I see His dark hand across your face. I can’t pretend we aren’t
the the ones who did it. Something is wrong, yes I know. “Oh everything is perfect. It’s all as it should be. God will change everything if I smile and pray.”

If that’s true, why are you in my valley?

You entered on your own and you found me
here, the only one who stayed for you. I own this
valley and the wild dogs are my friends. I have nowhere else to go but through you as the many
nights you created long before this descent.
Don’t forget that you don’t remember. Did you forget me already? Once I see you, I never leave you. You can never turn back now, the entrance closed behind you. And when you think you’ve left this place, it’s only another night you’re digging. You never left. I’m right here watching you pretend we aren’t alone. That your clothes are on…but It’s me. It’s me. It’s me. I’ve become your fear. I never leave. If you didn’t change the locks, that’s your fault. I wish you understood what you wanted when you came here. She slaps very hard. Wake up! She
slaps again and again like water against rock.
A Wanderer shouldn’t be lost. Remember!

This forest is dark with many trees and this valley is deep with many secrets. I’ve even been
afraid of myself in this place. Dancing all alone.
And I’m still not totally comfortable here, even now, after He took me and showed me what I never wanted to see (I was like you with His dark hand moving across my face) He made me look and He taught me to dance and then He gave me the Valley. The dark Passage place of Her. I own it and I’m waiting for you.
Of course many are already here who think they’ve left me and are looping dormant and dim, in a slumber of delusion “It’s sad, but I keep them close” She said. It takes boiling courage, I keep telling you. The entrance closes once you step through. You can never go back! Stop clawing at my walls! Stop wasting time!
See, this is the Valley of Secrets. What lie have you told to end up here? All locked up with only one way to go. We’ve all done it …and the only way out is through…

I haven’t always been one person, I used to be two…and it was hard, and painful and terrifying. I was afraid of the evil I felt within…I couldn’t trust the “other” me…only the “good” me was trustable and worthy and “showable” to the outside world…I was comfortable with Her but not with HER. And I could feel HER rising from below, I would know in advance like when you see a storm coming and the sky turns black and the birds leave the sky….I would feel HER coming in this way….riding in on the wild storm that would destroy good me and I was helpless against HER. The closer SHE got, the more irresistible SHE would become until it was over. I was gone. Good me went down again into HER. It was reckless, destructive, magnetic, intoxicating, horrifying, tormenting and relentless I rocked back and forth on Her and HER for a long, long time. HER mouth took it all. SHE took everything I thought I had and I thought I was. And the first person to go was Good Her. Good Her was actually the biggest beast of all. The loudest dog with the biggest fangs. She eats you from the inside out so that you know, and once She’s done and you’re just a hollow shell of smiles and uncertainty She releases you back into your pathetic useless life as a people pleaser and a closet violent sociopath. Your smiles don’t fool HER. HER who I thought was Hell. HER who knows His reason for wiping it all away. She’s a wicked liar.

So Him and HER got rid of Her.

Why won’t you look?

I’m not alone anymore. He picked me from my bones and all the vultures fled the sky when they saw His Chariot appear…charging through the black wind…

His Black Fire Dragon Calls Me Midnight.

And I rise to meet Him just like that…pulled from my bones, less than an echo, but warm and still beating inside of you…I told you my love never dies.

coil stump
blue dead face
octagon surge
only the true will know
Her secret
black bag to carry
hold the stalk
look at me
my lonely hands
are searching
for the Diamond
in this cell
crawling without eyes
that see the sprawling hole
I was cut away
like the dark at dawn
the sun is coming
rising thru my neck
open to the sky
weeping inside the circle
holding hands
like wheels we spin
the luminous night
glowing naked
out of time
the symbol rises
looking closely
disassembled, everywhere
this lock confuses
the entry unknown
one cold eye
burning thru the black
while one star held the heavens
right above my head

One night many years ago while I was in the darkest of the dark of me I had a dream…
I was trying to get somewhere safe and important and I needed to be there soon…and I was carrying a small statue of the Goddess Kali (I didn’t even know who Kali was at that time of the dream) I didn’t know what to do because
shadowy figures kept surrounding me everywhere I went. I got on trains. I went down alleys. I climbed up stairs. I ran through fields.
Everywhere I went they followed me and watched me and I knew they were conspiring to kill me. It was very dangerous the places I kept going to escape this fate….then I realized that it was the statue that made them want to kill me and so if I just broke the statue they would leave me alone. So I got off the train and broke Her into pieces. Relieved I started walking happy that I was out of harm….then suddenly the shadowy figures were back and following me and I couldn’t escape them no matter what I did.
Then I voice said “You carry the curse of Kali”
I couldn’t get Her out and I couldn’t get away from Her. She was inside! So at that moment I needed to decide if I would be the hunter or the prey. We like to think we have a choice but it’s only a matter of time before you see that you can’t break Her. Oh, you can break yourself into pieces but not Her and She’ll become a thousand gruesome fragments of what you thought you left. You can’t escape the purpose of what He did and why He did it. This is Their holy matrimony. This is Their love for you. You, Baby Jesus. The Pure Lamb of Light.

I will attempt to weave the girl together
braid the madness
straighten the kinks
A lock on my table
a loaf of bread on my plate
let’s eat the listener
making words into wine
The girl understood that we had to break her
open upon the plate
She was wiser than we
who attempt the impossible

She bent and she burst
imploding, exploding
explanations into chaos
blood into the churning sea
we drink and we eat and
we don’t understand
the flesh and the blood
we hold captive

(Mary are you listening?)
So after that dream I began worshipping Kali because I was afraid and I wasn’t big enough to stop Her from finding Him anyway. I was simply in the way. Do you understand? I wasn’t big enough to be me anymore. “I love you but it’s over” I told the one hiding in shame. And that’s what I thought I did but it’s never over. I’ve been a liar for a very long time. But She hears every word and sees every deed and knows every time I die in Her name. What else can we do?

She will always be a winner with me on Her hook.

Sharada Devi

The Mosaic Takes No Prisoners

“I don’t have any thing
I am not any thing but a
A cry disappearing in the wind”

They found Her lying on Her side heaving with exhaustion. Her white fur steaming with heat
Her golden eyes as still as a pierced knife caught in it’s victim. She was a wolf, large and white.
Not a regular wolf. She was enormous, a huge mound of white fire pulsing and flaming beneath the dark forest of trees. She’d made it here finally to die, the war out there was too great even for Her. She was a lone fighter, nobody by Her side. Is that what they thought?

They were hunters both carrying guns. It was a full moon night but still in the twilight, the Moon had not yet reached Her full splendor. The sky was so empty, the stars hiding and watching behind the blanket of a silver hum. The sky was so empty as if He didn’t matter at all.

I wrote you a song
to sing to the world
nobody knew me
but you were a star
so I hid behind
your shining face
while you sang
what I wanted to say
and nobody ever knew me
and nobody ever thought
that I, the sky
might be singing too

But the wolf seemed to know and She laid there
waiting to go. To return to Him finally as the howler in His blue heart. She might cover the world this way, the world that hurt Her and never understood Her way. The howling we hear always came from there…and never from the throat of mere animals. They tear from their guts
our hot veins dripping- It’s always been that way.
Whoever sees into the sky knows Their love.

They were hunters, both dressed as a hunter would. They had paid for these clothes and they weren’t cheap. She only had fur. White and dirty, stained with old blood.
They found Her and it wasn’t like they could just start shooting. She was huge and shocking and
She was clearly still ALIVE. One hunter (there were two) knelt near Her head and one knelt near Her middle and put his hand on Her to feel Her breathing. She was heaving and blurry with night. Her eyes were gold and fixed on the moon slowly entering the darkening sky above Her.
She loved Him more than they could see.

The hunter in the middle of Her knew better than the one at Her head. The hunter at Her head had his shotgun out just waiting for the other hunter to signal when to shoot. He clearly felt He was being merciful to offer this release. The other hunter though, scared yet enchanted, started listening closer to Her heart beat and Her breath. He put up his hand
signaling the head hunter to stop and put his gun way. He turned his head just as Her eyes met his, he was transfixed by Her gaze in a way that made his world, as he knew it, disappear around him. It was only Him and Her now. Was it the sky? Was it the earth? Was it the moon holding him captive in Her? His mind was empty and the golden light of Her eyes created a sound in his head, a different language than his, but he understood, and he heard Her and he knew what he needed to do.

Deep in the forest
beneath warm misty rain
I heard my heart singing again
Her song was a siren
calling me home
only one place leads to here
Her song woke the birds
and the owls of the night
who circled around me
and in the myth of the coven
I spread open my wings
and watched Her fly away
brewing we sat,
me and the birds
calling and singing for Her

And when the morning came
the ground was still wet
the fire still burning
and Her ashes filled the sky

(Deep in the womb. The spark then the fire. The burning. The flesh of the witch. Flesh turned to ash. Ash rose
to God. From the song in the smoke
then the bird)

He thought “It can’t be this way she will never
die by our mercy. We can’t kill Her. Nobody can kill Her. She lives in His sky as the fire of night and she walks upon this earth as His sword of Spirit.”

The Moon was now above us. The Owls like witches watched and casting their spell upon us we became bewitched by Her, filled with Her song….and they made us
think that we finally remembered. That we knew who we were. Not the white wolf. She already knew. It was the two hunters who thought they had found Her. Who thought they were helping Her. Who thought She might be done.

The cauldron hisses and spits. The Snake moves through everything and it doesn’t matter how She does it. The catalyst or the shapeshifter.
We put our shoe upon Her, don’t forget that.

(Continued….when we awoke- me and my little bird)
we were covered in ashes and blood looking up at Him. I said, ” the Angel fell. Do you know him?” Deep in the Triangle now…the pieces of cloud kept us covered from seeing who He really was. My little bird, she kept changing…and I didn’t know who I was. Aurora the Oracle who sings in the water flowed down the river in a stream of gold and began to sing near me
Here is what I heard

“as vast as the sea
and as high as the sky
I let the fire burn
this heavenly weapon
as rare as my name
being heard

and upon the land
even in the dimmest of shrines
the laughter was heard
by the candles being fed

It’s all around us now
the sound of the end
up in flames and
sending smoke signals.

We wave our flags high
white peace in the ashes
feathers and fishes
and not as before

the drum thumps beneath
the lumps left of earth
pounding old souls
back in places

(they left their staffs behind
they bit their hearts quiet
they stood to the side
lifting slowly
the gavel)

but it’s all burning now
and it doesn’t matter
because I let it happen”

I didn’t have a pen so I couldn’t write this down and I’m not sure if I’m remembering everything. There’s something else we need to know…before I could ask Her She slithered away, a gold stream shining in the water. She moves quickly and expects us to understand.

The Waxing Ones know we learn in Their world.
But when in this world we are expected to remember.

“Where am I?” I said to the hunter….

Homelessness. I don’t really feel at home.
There’s no way for me to come to terms with where I’ve been put. It’s where apparently I wanted to come. We can’t remember why but at the moment we can’t imagine what we were thinking. We had high hopes. We had high opinions of our ability. We had courage. We had a fire burning. So we came and most of us got stuck. Embedded in the mire of 3D reality. You can’t be a coward you know.
We must remember. That’s what they say the first step is- remembering. You aren’t at home.
You are on a mission. It’s feels all wrong- the idea that you should adapt soon and settle down and relate appropriately. That you should contribute and thrive inside the machine with the others.
They look at you- they know you just aren’t right.
You feel the same way. Your heart doesn’t beat correctly. It’s out of time. You can’t just sleep. Or listen. You’re hearing too much. Everything aches and burns. Prayers don’t get answered. There is no response. You have been abandoned
and you still aren’t sure what you did that was so
wrong, so heinous to be sentenced to this torture in a hell of insanely ok Others. Yes they are all ok. Can’t you see. You’ve got the problem.
You’re weird. You stutter. You cry. You don’t like looking into everyone’s eyes. The sound is like tin. I can’t find a home here. It’s inside me I know I’ve heard it before and God holds my hand and carries me and only His footprints are seen.
Plastic everywhere. Everything plastic…..

(you can still say we’re all One. That doesn’t bother me)

And when She told me that day and I stepped over that pile of Jesus- (where he was buried) I knew there was no going back until after The Harvest. So I am going to find the Fallen One and be brave…..

I remember everything. My Mother doesn’t know. She thought we were too young to remember -but I REMEMBER. It’s the most recent distortions that must be released first.
(this is what They say)
While a child still at home and for sake of survival I suppressed it all. Then when I left at about 18- I started remembering everything.
It would just come up like visions and I would think “how could I have forgotten that?” I remember back as far as infancy. One time I thought I needed to say something to Her, it was a pretty bad recall after all. So one day (I was about 19 and was with Her in the car driving) I said,
“Mom do you remember that time I was 9 or 10 and you got mad at me and started beating me and I was running from you and you knocked me down in the hallway and cut off all my hair?”
She started screaming wildly “you liar!!!”
She then slapped my face and kicked me out of the car….so clearly this wasn’t the way….

So I guess it will be no use confronting Her about the time She tried to suffocate me either…(I can still taste the salt on Her hands as she held them over my mouth and nose)…or the sexual abuse of me and my brother…or….and the list goes on.
Yes, this I REMEMBER.

She recently sent an email that said, “What is it that I did to you that was so bad Michelle? ….I don’t know what belief system you live by –
but I live by one- and it’s called LOVE Michelle.”

She’s not able to hear the truth so I leave Her to Her delusion until She finds courage. She says “I’ve caused her more pain than anyone” She’s not interested in me. Do you understand?
It’s called a Veil. It is lifted of its own accord.
The road isn’t through them in this case, it’s somehow more “around them” do you see?

My brother is a Dragon hurling and spewing straight at me but he’s still my majestic little king friend and I love him anyway. He won’t know until he’s ready….

I always get blamed. It’s part of my purpose. I put myself in their path for a reason beyond me.
And I’m not better. We don’t have to hear “I’m sorry.” And we don’t even have to always say it either. Everyone is inside Their own Wolf.
How much can She handle? I don’t know,
How deep is your love?

So are we alone then? Each of us awaiting the crucifixion or the exorcism? There’s no difference (after all that’s what She said)

Jesus is in there and She’s white mixed with blood and we burn Her as the witch and we
hang Her as the cross. She fills the sky with smoke to bring us down and notch or two.
Feathers turn to Him as magic and we pray for the rain to fall. We’re killing with precision and we meant the beast no harm…

She can’t stop me. She’s right,
“Its called LOVE Michelle.”

The hunter flinched and the spell was broken.
Her White paw resting upon His hand. She was looking at Him now softly as a wise mother speaking to Her cub. “We come from there” She said, looking toward the cluster of stars in the sky. “We are The Wanders”
the fresh blood upon Her silver fur glistened and I knew we were free…

“There is a Great War that we fight. Where we hunt and we spook and we fly over oceans.
The ripe fall and we eat them. The crooked run and we catch them. The still sit and we watch them. The sky is a screen that The Watchers look through. They already know where we are.
The Watchers are the Waxing Ones and the Moon is just a wolf’s cry away. Don’t forget me”….

and then She bled into the ground as a puddle of moonlight upon the earth…..and I heard a girl’s voice in the distance crying
“Aurora where did you go?!” Aurora….come back……come back……

The star was swelling in the sky
twinkle of death in Her big black eye
“get closer” whispered hidden clouds
“follow the star don’t be shy”
baby Christmas howls
and the white womb prism glows
like a flower in an open field
lightening flashes and the earth is
creaking, cracking and the worms
are rising from their sleep
from down beneath the singing little girl
The rain is falling in streams of silver
running down Her winter face
the tree is holding this prayer
sending to the sky above Her
words written for tomorrow
and it all unfolds as She sits
beneath the tree upon the earth…
worms growing into golden snakes”

Into the sounds of the dark we reach pulling up the roots of our noise… waiting for the letters
to reach us…and we travel deep into the earth, into the Secret Places where They make fire for volcanoes and darkness for light… both of us knowing only then that our paws are white and our feet are gold. Both of us knowing only then where the blood really comes from.

(There’s a hole in this story.
WARNING: The Truth is Deep)

Because in a circle at sunrise She will spell
your name across the sky and with
invisible eyes you will see Her. (The name
She gave you in the night, for only you to read)……

She turned over in bed again and again….struggling in the tangled sheets…She opened Her eyes….golden sunlight streaming in.

Was it a dream?

“The Mosaic takes no prisoners.
Remember me in the morning.”

(she wrote this down in the notebook near her bed. She didn’t know where it came from….maybe some memory or some dream…)

(As the sun rose even though She seemed to have left him…he knew She’d only changed Her shape. His instincts told him that She would rather die in battle then to die because   She had given up. They were both hunters after all. And he understood His Mother well)

We can make it and we can take it and
it’s impossible to break it.

Sharada Devi