I can’t stand Kali. I’m tired of stupid Hindu gods and what people do to Kali and Krishna in particular is obscene. I’m not targeting you, you simple reminded me how annoying it is. I’ve been in this long enough, I had to deal with Bhagavan Das’s stupid Kali trip, ok and he knows better and he certainly knows now what Kali is not, which is what you’re all still doing- again, don’t take it personally- my words mean nothing- but what Kali is not is a low grade fever in a whore house infected with psychic gonorrhea, ok? She’s not a transvestite in your alley giving toothless blow jobs, she’s not you acting like a slut all of a sudden feeling like it’s some sort of sexual liberation. She’s not your emotionally unstable self centered girlfriend who paints her nails red. She’s not even a fucking person, wake up. I’ve been through this, it’s so typical for humans to make the same mistakes again and again. I was not fooled. I could call my mother Kali. But it’s a Kali that’s unconscious, destructive due to negative karma, impure sexual energy, a stuck and writhing kundalini thrashing at the walls of the second chakra with nowhere to go but to fuck with your fears and weaknesses and that’s only because they can’t face their own, black projection. There is no outlet in the heart, there is a dark heart murmur, and Krishna, who is the Dark Lord, who “Kali” becomes, is due to true, selfless, all consuming bhakti- pure ecstatic, devastating love- and that is the purity of devotion to the counterpart that awakens bodhichitta. Kali, the only one version I claim to know or cherish is the true bodhisattva, ruthlessly kind, stable in nothingness, electrical foresight, blood red intention, eyes of gold, a heart made of moon, a knowing beyond time and space. Absolute self negating compassion against all odds. She doesn’t care about outfits and appearances. She slaughters softly those that love her truly and you can’t lie because she knows already. Your heart is mine, that’s a secret you can’t hide. Kali talks to hearts, not dicks. So she is a supreme Sexual Queen, yes. What could that even mean? Well, sexuality is deeper than bodies, it’s actually meant as the grinding of souls, the resultant spark is another god born into the endless prism of divine intercourse. She’ll take you into the reality of that intention to merge, to create beyond your smallness and isolation- this is the death of death that I will always live inside you. Because my heart has become my own, your heart belongs to me. There is only one heart in the universe. The one heart is Kali entwined with Krishna- and in the stillness of one heart beating Shiva is struck like gold in a rushing river. And it’s over for you once you’re real. And that’s the catch, once you get real you’re no more. That’s Kali, Krishna lends a hand to the ego grief by making you love so much you’re in constant pain from the ensuing separation and so you serve, constantly serving the pain in the hearts of others, you’re not a star on the stage under spotlights, you’re the star that gave it’s light to suffering so that you might free another god. It’s all in you. Govinda Hare. Gopala Hare, He Prabhu Deena Dayala Hare- is one of my favorite mantras because it’s the most true of all- it means basically I am a servant to the servant of the servant. I am the lowest of the low and that’s where Krishna lives. In the humility, frailty, omniscience and softness of what heart love really is, which is a knowing to give all of what you are, however meager into that horrible annihilating, supremely wrathful, as soft as a dove feather, light of Kali. I don’t know, how would I know? My name used to be Kali. I almost died because of it, well I did die, twice- but I came back and I became white. My name was changed and Kali, who I was hoping would disappear only went deeper, so deep she became the yantra in my DNA. I cannot escape her, believe me, I tried. She doesn’t sit in front of you lecturing, she doesn’t show you herself. She doesn’t act out and make images like sexy women who scream perfect orgasms. No. She hides- deeply rooted, she looks through your eyes, she becomes you, you are taken by her, and she is watching from the inside and she pounces immediately on anything, anyone real who might know her and turn her to Krishna. Don’t think you’re Kali, don’t underestimate her eagerness to destroy you as well, over and over if you get in her way. It’s treacherous. She’s focused on Him alone. Not you. There is no Shiva until Krishna opens his lotus eyes and the hollow flute haunts the space between us. It’s this sound, you asked. It’s this sound I hear emanating in the space between us that I can’t break away from. The sound of Krishna’s conch, flute, reed, hollow holy open heart that pulls wine from water and intoxicates her into selfless bliss. Who can know her truly, she is kind. She loves Krishna. She is beautiful and flowing, she is more happy as Radhe. She is forced to wrath to be with love only when the murk of darkness becomes her body because of your projection. I’m no expert, I’ve been too close to see anything for years and years. And I can’t stand Kali because of what this world does to her virginity. How they rape and steal the hearts of girls and turn men into vampires and women into snakes with tongues too long to be effective. The wanting, the pitiful greed, the bottomless self serving whine, the loss of compassion. I always saw Kali only as golden light and never as some black and red mindless, wild, unaware, indiscriminate whore. Go ahead and fuck the sky, no one’s watching, it’s all in your bottled up head. You can’t get the serpent to rise, Kali is only an evil rat stuck like that. Hoarding in the realm of stagnating relational waters. The flaming statues mean nothing, she’s not a fucking doll or a stripper. Ok, I’ve said it. All before. It’s not about religion, Hindu gods, it’s about the myth that we embody. Kali is a transformational energetic principal. You can go in whatever direction you want. ↕️ That’s the freedom of her darkness and light. She’s got wolves of all colors trapped everywhere chewing off their own legs. Futile, don’t you think? What a love story. Romantic to death. Haha. Such a catch, bleed on me. I have no teeth left. Come to me, I have three legged wolves everywhere singing Rama raghava rakshamam. Krishna keshava pahimam. They howl this for hours and then, in the ecstasy of devotion, they limp to the river crying out to the sky as they step into the golden water. They sing as the submerge themselves and disappear into the rushing river. Then, there is a lion’s roar of thunder through the clouds as the chariot of Krishna appears and lifts them into his immortal love as their bodies drown, their souls of light are merged into the beloved Dark Lord’s eternal heart… and it’s only the beginning.
Shiva’s trident rules these waters as God alone who is blue and covered in white sky.
Clan of Ram protect me. Krishna be mine. Krishna take me home.
There is the Kali who has forgotten God and there is the Kali that remembers God.
She alone, is the golden one we love.
Become her. Sharada Devi