my broken moon don’t go


“Dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind.” We sang that song all night long like a couple of hungry vampires. It was creepy, haunted by the rhymes of mother goose. Mary’s hidden garden. I was talking about hypnosis later and how it’s effectively done to control people. Like they do in cults. I was giving a lesson really, on moving downward, eyes fixed and gazing. Down into the basement to lay on the dirt. I said, “when my grandmother was little, her mother used to tie her up in the dark basement and leave her there, lying on the dirt floor for days.” He said, “I want to go to the astral world with you and be weightless light.” I said, “I was just telling you about it, my grandma was there for days…” Silence. Quickening eyes. I wonder what she saw in the darkness of god’s broken realm. The moon does what it does because it’s broken. I don’t think you know that. It’s a broken radio receiver and if something can go wrong of it will. That’s why the waters crash beneath her. Rise in desire and crash…with nothing but a memory of her gaze. These eyes are diamonds he is right. But we don’t see that they see with or without us. And so the moon makes us think we see what we see. Feel the results of exposure and respond with emotional flux. She’s a goddess intent on a slow steady destruction. Eroding it all into lunacy. Because she can. She’s mesmerizing. And we watch her with wonder because she always seems to leave or diminish. She’s dark, she’s bright. She’s clear and confusing. Slip into her. Let it happen. OM dreaming my dream. OM I am yours. OM enchantress take me. Down onto the floor. Dirt. Lay me on earth’s dirt in your shackles and float me over your astral sea. The basement ceiling where I watch it all.

So there’s this face I called grandma. Just an ancient featherless bird. She grew orchids and had babies for god. Then she died one day for no reason at all except pain. She just kept saying, “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take it anymore. It hurts, it hurts so much.” Then she was gone. But she never really left, just like autumn leaves never really fall. You said you want it, her body to come back in the shape of mine, her secret garden of mary to be yours. To float in my gaze as I water the flowers. See what I see underneath. I said, “did you read my secret garden.” He said, “no.” I said, “too bad, it’s a secret place this captive little girl found and no one knew about it but her.” And how I feel is hollow like this moon. Secret like this garden. My grandma wanted to name me eden when I was born under the cold, full autumn moon. Winter was only three days away. Don’t you see. He died and rose because his mother is mary the virgin, secret garden of god seed. Wave after wave taking over the light, taking you back to her warm hidden womb. You said you want it, to return. To fly with me inside this moon. There is pain there. Where we find god, the invisible father. That pain is her broken heart. That death becomes her radiant moon dust. The dark sky becomes her secret longing for him to rise once again from the black. Visions of loss are imagined as sad. Vampires that hunger are imagined as bad. But to her these seeds of mystical romance are simple god’s children making stars…falling leaves of a passing autumn pain…found in her hypnotic gaze, my broken moon don’t go. Sharada Devi

26 thoughts on “my broken moon don’t go”

  1. Breath of death, chills my body

    Hypnotic gaze
    Ignorant, sure.
    -Already caught, in the gaze.

    Where my cold heart keeps coming, to break
    just one day- a star like she said

    “There’s more, flower child”
    The words pulled down.
    Pulled down. To where I am
    OM🔥”you’re just getting started.”

    1. Afraid and vulnerable,
      that has to stop.
      Get back in the refrigerator
      if you’re scared of the dark heat
      of God. Get it straight.
      I called you a vampire, who
      needs to be reformed- not
      a child who is a flower.
      Ok. Sunshine so pretty
      inside those rayon pants…
      if you won’t wear my clothes,
      what else can I say but it’s
      all fucking you from above…
      and Baba’s all down on me
      for saying that word too much.
      Fuck is “the word.”

      I’ll drive that stake
      so deep “the word” will be God.
      So Baba is wrong and so are you
      little flower.

      Heartfelt, move without fear
      in your eyes.

      1. Cool center of fear that excites
        Because it’s been so long. -That hot flashes of the past have taken the days.

        “It feels like a watershed moment.” I wanted to say. And thank God I didn’t. Her face, stern, speaks of -No time to stop and talk about the success of one step. The sheer face, of facing what cowers in the light of fearlessness. “There will always be fear.” She told me, “Sri Yukteswar would just walk.”

        There will always be fear, and words don’t mean a thing, if I can’t walk in it’s midst.

        1. Beautiful. Facing fear is getting one step closer to God, welcome the possibility of annihilation in the disease of the waiting room. I could have left but I stayed. This is real. One step closer to God, one step deeper into me- however the hawk watches I watch back. That is life, on the verge of nothing. Me nothing but a pounding heart trying to live. Walk on inside it and know the way out is always through…

          1. You walk on air to me, through pounding earth, the wild that surrounds your eyes
            Pulls me in, with no space left for concern of the dark jungle. I am the creature to be feared, anyway. -my own worst enemy, remember.
            I want the darkness to stay,
            Lord knows. “I need this.. I need this.”

          2. The dark lord knows. We need this love.
            As deep as death goes to hunt us. The
            annihilation of this enchantment is that
            his body is made of gold and his heart is
            a diamond that knows no tomorrow. So the sound that we see, the terror hunt that betrays us, is the dark one calling us back to the heart where everything is wild vivid and divine.

  2. Hope everything goes well at the lake mother light folks. Chills here too from a frozen landscape in Indiana. Yah. Yah. Beautiful song. 🙂 Hello moon, Earth

    1. Happy to hear you my soulful friend!
      Hope you stay filled with the grace
      and the light of true love. The song
      that plays in your heart I mean,
      all day and night. Sun, the moonlight.

  3. I think mothers must secrerly love how baby shit smells…with the sound of warmed up baby formula shaken in a bottle too…they like rummaging through their plastic lined baby shit diaper bag…in the backseat of big comfortable cars…like a cheeseburger wrapped in wax paper sounds interesting when its picked up and peeled back…so warm and soft…with the smell of warm yellow baby shit…they get in their little blissful meditative zone…and as their driver I adapt to it and just try to relax…its ASMR to a degree…and they always pay and tip well in the end…and I don’t really care that much…this is what’s in my heart…

  4. I lived beneath the autumn leaves. Dark, dank, wet, sunken, deep into belly earth, buried with the worms. Cold, planted, rooted in brown clump Earth Heaven. Frost’s shimmering layer. Clouds sifted a dusting of snow, then released pounds of frozen crystalline. Breathe in belly earth…

    Long frozen slumber.

    Savior Son came again,
    melted ice,
    fed the earth…
    dead leaves dried.

    Strong winds unwound time
    opening death to the blue lapis sky.
    Sun faded to a calm rest
    bringing twilight to
    alabaster moon shine.

    Polaris rising guided me OM. OM. OM.

  5. When we die…should we go towards the light…assuming that there is a light…I hear different opinions…i would never tell someone what to do or where to go after they died…how should I know what they should do…personally I think Ill go towards the light…assuming that there is one…

    but if there’s darkness…and people begin showing up to lead me somewhere…down some dimly lit hallway…getting darker the further you go…I’m going to call out to Jesus…jesus help me…JESUS HELP ME…because these people that show up to lead you through the darkness…lead you down deeper…into the dungeon…and they get meaner and more pushy the further you go…so I’m told…

    I took 20,000 iu’s of vitamin D today…I thought it was going to hurt really bad…when in fact it was quite the opposite…I think it’s good for me…i feel the way I feel in the summertime now…inner sunshine…and my saliva tastes better…

    I would love to drink a six pack and write something truly meaningful…but it’s probably not a good idea…

    1. I think truly meaningful is relative.
      And depends on whose reading it…
      so thanks for your words of diverse
      interpretation! Every time, in tbe hole.
      We go…as far as light, without time
      to think, I imagine we go toward what we resonate most with on a very deep non- mental level. Cultivation. Just my idea,
      how would I know…Jesus is a helper of those who suffer. Always there…and yet there are those things we must do on our own that might be why he said every man must work out his own salvation…or was that Buddha. Probably both. ☀️

  6. One time I walked around and around this circular path in AZ tripping on peyote…and I just kept saying workworkworkwork workworkworkwork drinkdrinkdrinkdrink drinkdrinkdrinkdrink…it was like total insanity but fun…and you can do it for a long time…like uncle Charlie in the time capsule…what if death is a bad trip where you feel remorse for things you can’t atone for…forever and ever…oh Lordy mr Washington…I can’t do forever and ever…trippers need peripheral noise and a safe space…with no cops or authority figures asking them serious questions…tripping tears whipping tattered flags into your eyes…tripping is a form of mental illness…hopefully it’s but a dream and everyone will be ok in the end…I’m gonna save these sacred texts for the next genius…I like to burn incense and not cheese…this apartment could use a good sage burning as it’s full of burning ghosts…it’s not what’s inside me but what divides me by the slice…this apartment could use a good days burning as it’s full of alluring ghosts…

    1. Shane oh Shane
      You’re always walking in a circular path
      my daydreaming friend wrapped in colors.
      Bright ghosts you say, as sexy as hell…
      I would agree. God is the witness. 🌈🌈🌈👻

  7. I’ve finally arrived
    Where the tongues meet
    Hearts speak
    mother destroys
    And embraces
    After we touch baba’s feet

    Gaze in heaven
    Grounded in hell
    When the bell rings
    The illusion dispels
    Breath it in
    Breathe it out
    I am
    never without


    1. I am within…and I am without!
      Maybe that’s the problem…
      and the solution!
      Deity sunrise, sunset.
      Human God.
      Particle of me,
      dust storm
      the Beloved.
      I’m looking everywhere,
      just in case…
      some call me crazy,
      hardly any call me wise.
      I don’t answer the phone
      anyway. So be it! 😂🤣😂💔

      1. love it

        Oh yes you are wise
        To not answer the call
        Those who are calling from
        The market place
        Why even bother i’d
        Rather take crazy then wise
        But in my eyes I know you
        Yes you are wise and crazy
        I remember the journey
        You took us
        Hallowed halls
        I even wanted
        A second glimpse
        Drove to Eugene
        But the crazy and wise
        We’re nowhere near
        Cancelled they say
        But I think Baba Neem Karoli
        I saw on the road
        I can see too
        I can see you! 🌞❤️😜

        1. Oh! You live in Portland? Sorry about that eugene thing! You’re so sweet! And your writing flows and tumbles like water, beautifully serene yet intent on the origin!
          💦💧💦❄️❄️❄️💦🌬💦where god is found.

          1. Yes, right now I live in Portland
            Was born in the Philippines and then moved
            To Santa Fe, NM now Portland. 🙂

            Thank you for coming to Portland! It was a one of a kind experience chanting with you and Baba BD. Truly a demonstration of my faith and love. Funny story about the Eugene trip that I did, as I was turning towards the freeway there was a blanket on the road and a feeling of love embraced me, you know this hehe as if the feeling was saying “you don’t have to go far be here” I got to the event and found out it was cancelled then I got a bigger hit of love! Woooooooow! So for me it actually worked out that you had to cancel. That’s why on the last reply I wrote Maharaji Called. Hehehehhehe RamRam 🌞❤️

            I’m inspired to write more because I stumbled on your blog site! thank you for encouraging me! ☺️

          2. I think you’re the sweetest great poet I know! Magic Blanket Ride!

  8. My English isn’t perfect yet but I’m getting there. I also recite/write in My native tongue (Tagalog) which is more effective when I do it in person because I can use body language and tone of my voice to speak to everyones heart! 🙃

      1. I think there are as many poets as there are stars. I take it personally, not universally. God is as little and splintered
        as all that we see. It’s not one poet, it’s every poet. All over poet. Personal star.
        Is how I feel, or else why bother?

        1. That straightened my perspective out
          Thanks! 🙃😊
          Find my voice find my voice
          personal star
          share the universe

  9. I usenit universally
    As an excuse to not work hard
    But I have to do the work
    I can shine
    I need to shine
    So I can be the light house
    That the lost ones including myself
    Can see
    It’s tough when you can’t see
    Masks 🎭

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