Scorpion breathing


The black sun is inside of everything. The moon is always behind her. Scorpions fall from the ceiling into my bed. The child waits all alone for her mother to return. But no one is coming back. The tail curls because the night is long and his pierce is sharp. Because the moon drives men mad and his desire is for penetration. From the womb and up, the wound is black. The sting is inside the bed at night as she curls beneath the opal light that shines through her window. He always watches me go. “Leave it all and come to me. I am in you.” Fill her body with a reason. Any reason to go further. It is his world down here, under these sheets. Where we fight the dark spiders, scorpions fall. I am not alone. Legs wrap and squeeze. The light changes from a crescent to a disk. The words change. I whisper in his ear looking for God, “Have you seen God. Some day, any day. Is God looking for me?” It is night. Far across the moon filled ocean the air is a cesspool of death and poison. I breath him in – in song and sky. Nameless unframed madness. Her burning eyes etched in black beg for money. The water dies filled with long ago fires and ash that has sunk. They don’t care. Nobody hears you. God doesn’t sing, God honks. There are windows those are not eyes. There are pits those are not souls. I am here spinning everywhere pulling him deeper. In this dirty room. Into me. Scorpion fire. Long crystal legs. Unedible food. Showers that stink like death sweat. I still want you. “God isn’t real,” she reveals- as man made oracles embed themselves deep in her silicon body. How to get here, underneath him. That is the question she answers. Slowly but surely. I am laughing. Don’t be stupid. Long slow moan into light. No. Not a light you can see, only feel in this particular dark. Poison dusk. Wrathful deep destruction of God pictures and patterns. A hole into you. Dark sun astral force. Invisible enemy sticks it into my body. Loud people walk the streets aimlessly. Piles of dirt blow smiles into the air, “I’ll kill you. Yes I will. You should do this for me. ” His vehicle is black smoke. Her mouth is blue stain. His movement is unseen. Her madness is untouched. “Go ahead and blow me out of the water.” Take back the love that had rings. Pull the blankets over these dead timeless bodies. As we pray. As we pray. As we pray. Decay. Yes. I said I love you. Back. Again and again. Where’s my driver. Insane my lungs are filled with his venom. I am devoted. I am as toxic as the light that glows from inside of these windows where I watch animals fuck like computers change screens. And we want the words that will reach us. But we don’t scream. We don’t cry. We don’t ask. We just grunt and roll over. There is never another day behind the wheel. It’s always his light. It’s always her shadow. It’s my body inbetween the sheets where scorpions fall into bed. On top of me, my love. All is attraction. They say it’s a maddening initiation. Like a drug that numbs your lips and churns your stomach. He is inside rising. She is a pearl slowly dying because his body isn’t real, it’s her anger taking over. The streets down below. In the sewers where we walk. Waste deep. Night after night. Looking for clean girls with warm laps. Thrones for a dead dog. I’ve already eaten. That dog was diseased. Barked all night, feared every cat. One slow amber gold eye. One long grind back to the morning. Scorpions sting because we are lost and need guidance. If we didn’t it wouldn’t happen I was told. Death works through people this way. Pointing out hidden messages and providing lyric that moves us to undulate and call out for answers -we never hear ourselves calling. We think we are him and his sunrise. We think her shape changes with age. We think the waves overcome us and create tides. We think the pearl is a result not a cause. We think no one loves us because no one can. Not with all the honking and howling and half closed eyes. Ignoring themselves in her reflection and in his gaze. India is the worst place on earth. The longest trap standing. I chewed off my leg to get back to McDonald’s. I held out my tongue for another drop of his kill. I wanted to love you like flowers come in colorful bouquets and smell like heaven. But you’re mine and we must eat and survive this profane contradiction. You’re mine, bloody mother of night where truth falls on beds as light dies into wisdom. Give me more. I can take it all the way to another death. He is the One who captures seduces and destroys me. I am the One that sings to him to love me again. And again. Satisfaction ceases to occur. The light is all mine. Even in darkness. Because I am what is and no one can stop me or feed me back to myself. Ode to defeat. I mount every corpse with the jewel of my intangible heart throb. There is this pounding. This aching. This throbbing. That is my message. Get up and enter the unknown of anything moving inside. Until you get what you want. Find him fucking with you and fuck back.  That’s all I’m saying. Don’t be alarmed. Turn red. Love me back. “I can’t get no satisfaction.” I might get a slender cat and teach her dog tricks…you’ll never catch my cat. Not like the dog who died in my arms. Because a mantra isn’t enough, neither is a collar. Love love love alone is the sling. Sharada Devi is the sting. Scorpion breathing.

14 thoughts on “Scorpion breathing”

  1. She stings and sings only going, going, gone gone beyond the sky dancing kiss of bliss. What a blood bath it is this world of desire, never getting NOW only looking for your glasses that were on your nose all the time. The sting of the Vajra Guru who holds the scorpion in his hand. He rides the tiger, she wears the tooth, they touch and fall in love. He takes away the tears of fears and you are left with only the breath of death. Hear the dogs barking, that’s IT. wake up to NOW, where else could we possibly BE only way out to sea. It’s the looking that’s the problem, so relax and die. You know you want to go………. lost in love
    one more night without you I am.
    Dog black sun
    wolf star
    Bhagavan Das

  2. Relax and die! This is what I whispered into my mother’s ear when I arrived at her bedside. Don’t be afraid Mama! I held her hand. I became the strong one in the family, not afraid to touch and kiss death. I wanted to be INSIDE of her to feel where she was and where she was going. I told her so….I cried and begged her to go…. my eyes saw her suffering in the grey wrinkled body. I became her pain. I prayed and chanted at her bedside. I then left into the dark, cold pouring rain, until I got the call…..”your mother passed away at 5pm.” Kiss of death…opening doors….she spoke to me that night with a empty phone call…no voice at 2am….who else could it have been? I knew because I felt her.

    1. This is intense and pure soul.
      Words get in the way for me now.
      My love is beyond the gray.
      Silent hands of light hold yours.
      Now and forever my mother love…

      1. Om Mani Padme Hum….always and forever…..completely devoted to not knowing and just remembering to trust in that emptiness. Namaste Dearest Sharadadevi.

  3. While You were away, I watched videos of other peoples trips to Reishikesh,
    attempting to get a feel for how it might be – being there.
    SO much motorcycle traffic making its way through pedestrian pathways.
    SO much honking and noise. Plasticized banners publicizing ashrams to western pilgrims.
    Trash along the roadside. Garbage washed up on the shore of Mother Ganga.
    Tar paper shack slum town on one side of The Ganges,
    immaculate tourist attracting vegetarian restaurants on the opposite other.
    I wondered, with your resolute focus on purity,
    how You could endure the chaos and jangling disparity.
    I prayed that You might see a reason to bring your essence and presence back here.
    To see that the homeland can be the Holy Land.

    1. Did you really just say all that?

      “I wondered, with your resolute focus on purity, how You could endure the chaos and jangling disparity. I prayed that You might see a reason to bring your essence and presence back here. To see that the homeland can be the Holy Land.”

      1. Of course You could / can “endure” – much more than most of us would find tolerable.
        You have – in my eyes – always been diligent about purity.
        Pure food, water, body…
        What I was trying to express is that with the decline of cleanliness etc. and how things in India
        are not what they used to be – well I was agreeing with what you had written.
        I actually had been praying that You might return to the America.
        Because I kept thinking that there are so many beautiful unspoiled and pristine places here in this country.
        So many extraordinary rivers and lakes and settings that are also holy and sanctified
        because God and the Divine Mother are dwelling there too. Not just in India.
        Places where You could hold retreats or healing, nourishing spiritual gatherings.
        And maybe it was because I love You and just wished that You would not stay so far away.
        It never entered my mind that You might become unwell. I hope that You are back in good health now.

          1. another episode of – the futility of second guessing –
            or how I stopped worrying and learned to love myself.

  4. With gratitude I bow to Holy Mother Light and the precious gift of second chances — rebirth and quickening — have unleashed new layer of awakening and of possibilities. Corners are getting cleaned and the debris of ancient wounded muck now ashes in the fire pit.

    And in lies the rub, the Great War within and with external forces. The eternal fight of how to stay awaken in these sleepy horror show Kali Yuga endless sea of suffering times.

    How many second chances have I been given? All too often to make empty promises to stay awake, to be the seed that was planted in our making and yet the great sleep creeps back in and then death knocks hard and takes breath away till it seems snuffed out forever but it’s a blip and it was only for a moment and Dear Death says, “Not yet. You’re not earthy enough and you still cling to the stars and moon and spiritual bypassing. Your addiction to your longing to return to Mother Light shows up in your lack of love for self and how easily you settle for crumbs of cast aside love. Wake up! You’re staying here. Times not up.”

    But to what is the return to …? There are more layers pulled back to reveal even more collective sleep suffering. This path is lonely and brutal as we warrior through the ongoing war to stay awake. Love, Tara Devi

    1. We can think and fear and compromise
      for many months and loops and days and lives. Sometimes we need to destroy to
      do the greatest good. To be the love of the mother, sometimes we hurt and things die.
      But what remains is pure like the child
      untainted by the secrets of grief.
      There is no protection from the light
      but trust and surrender. Surrender all,
      and that means everything and everyone.
      But instead we keep thinking and waiting
      and falling into the past, what hurts most
      is the serpent’s chains on the child.
      You know that the world out there isn’t real, only you are…

      1. Thank you for your love
        that radiates in the
        dank dark deep dive
        into fearful unknowns,
        forever reminding to
        return to Mother Light —
        golden truth of Holy Surrendering —
        Holy Mother and Divine Child united free from all

        again and again I am on my knees.

        Worldly anesthesia …

        In these times of snuffing out sacredness in the name
        of one world consuming and materialism,
        I pray to always

        Thank you thank you.

        Love love,
        Tara Devi

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