You with the Hindu tattoo: Namasté. I wrote you some verse. There’s no other way.
We met at the Moksha conference last spring—
Just wondered how you had been worshipping.
The God in me greets the Goddess in you:
As sure as one must be followed by two—
Listen, I was thinking: before you buy
The used mantra set from that guru guy,
I meant to ask: How’s your situation?
Still affected by Siddharthafication ?
You all prana-ed up? You might need to sit,
Just to lower your vibrations a bit . . .
Sure as that there are only two genders,
There’s only one God. We’re all offenders.
Contemplate that. Breathe. Just be here right now.
(Don’t mean to act holier-than-thou,
But the stench of truth is wafting your way
Like a whiff of bloated carcass rotting in an Apple™ sweatshop.)
PROMPT #2 : write a poem that directly addresses someone, and that includes a made-up word,
an odd/unusual simile, a statement of “fact,” and something that seems out of place in time.
(the names Swami and Guru-ji can be replaced by
any other mystic names the reader wishes to substitute)
Swami and Guru-ji went to the river
to wash their souls in the dirty water
filled brass pots while they were at it, singing:
These are Gods—
worship them, worship them, these are Gods—
won’t you worship them please
Guru and Swami-ji flexed contortions
twisted minds and limbs in knots
sold each other secret mantras
to erase akashic records when the body rots
Swami and Guru-ji taught disciples
how to fast and hum and chant;
bound their loins with priestly garments, saying
These are Gods—worship them, worship them, these are Gods—you will worship them please
Guru and Swami-ji swallowed prana
purged their guts, then farted light
launched their chakras into oneness
in the ida and pingala of their third-eye sight
Swami and Guru-ji built a temple
around a monstrous calf of gold
bowed before the six-armed idols chanting
These are Gods—
worship them, worship them, these are Gods—
won’t you bow down please
Guru and Swami-ji studied parchments
by the dim light of a feeble ray
railed and wailed at the sinful heathen
in the filthy Kali-yuga of the dying day
Swami and Guru-ji made ablutions
offered incense and holy foods
ate their share and smoked the profit, humming
These are Gods—worship them, worship them, these are Gods—make an offering please
Guru and Swami’s blissed devotions
entwined their members with the temple belles;
stuck their yonis up their lingams
in the twenty-seventh circle of the seven hells.
Swami and Guru-ji offered puja
wrote it all off as a karmic debt—
forced a shudra to bear the burden, screaming
These are Gods—
worship them, worship them, these are Gods—
build a temple please
Guru and Swami-ji meditated:
pure omniscience in eternal now;
drank fresh urine from a heifer’s bladder
for they knew that it was soma from a holy cow.
Swami and the Guru merged with Brahman—
then went home to the wife and kids.
Told the servants to polish statues, saying
These are Gods—worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please
THE MORAL:slower solemn rhythm, no banjo or Jew’s harp
Aaron’s calf is ground to powder,
cast upon the Ganges’ tide.
Every tribe shall taste its poison.
This is God—worship Him, worship Him this is God—let us worship Him now . . .
✿ O M ✿ L I G H T ✿ L O V E ✿ ALL ENTITIES BLESSED
(the names Swami and Guru-ji can be replaced by
any other mystic names the reader wishes to substitute)
Swami and Guru-ji went to the river
to wash their souls in the dirty water
filled brass pots while they were at it, singing:
“These are Gods—
worship them, worship them, these are Gods—
won’t you worship them please”
Guru and Swami-ji flexed contortions
twisted minds and limbs in knots
sold each other secret mantras
to erase akashic records when the body rots
Swami and Guru-ji taught disciples
how to fast and hum and chant;
bound their loins with priestly garments, saying
“These are Gods—worship them, worship them, these are Gods—won’t you worship them please”
Guru and Swami-ji swallowed prana
purged their guts, then farted light
launched their chakras into oneness
in the ida and pingala of their third-eye sight
Swami and Guru-ji built a temple
around a monstrous calf of gold
bowed before the six-armed idols chanting
“These are Gods—
worship them, worship them, these are Gods—
won’t you worship them please”
Guru and Swami-ji studied parchments
by the dim light of a feeble ray
railed and wailed at the sinful heathen
in the filthy Kali-yuga of the dying day
Swami and Guru-ji made ablutions
offered incense and holy foods
ate their share and smoked the profit, humming
“These are Gods—worship them, worship them, these are Gods—won’t you worship them please”
Guru and Swami’s blissed devotions
entwined their members with the temple belles;
stuck their yonis up their lingams
in the twenty-seventh circle of the seven hells.
Swami and Guru-ji offered puja
wrote it all off as a karmic debt—
forced a shudra to bear the burden, screaming
“These are Gods—
worship them, worship them, these are Gods—
won’t you worship them please”
Guru and Swami-ji meditated:
pure omniscience in eternal now;
drank fresh urine from a heifer’s bladder
for they knew that it was soma from a holy cow.
Swami and the Guru merged with Brahman—
then went home to the wife and kids.
Told the servants to polish statues, saying
“These are Gods—worship them, worship them, these are Gods – won’t you worship them please”
THE MORAL:slower solemn rhythm, no banjo or Jew’s harp
Aaron’s calf is ground to powder,
cast upon the Ganges’ tide.
Every tribe shall taste its poison.
“This is God—worship Him, worship Him – this is God—let us worship Him now…”
Kali Yuga(Sanskrit: कलियुग, translit. kaliyuga, lit. ‘age of Kali’) is the last of the four stages (or ages or yugas) the world goes through as part of a ‘cycle of yugas’ (i.e. Mahayuga) described in the Sanskrit scriptures. The other ages are called Satya Yuga, Treta Yuga, and Dvapara Yuga.
Kali Yuga is associated with the demon Kali (not to be confused with the goddess Kālī). The “Kali” of Kali Yuga means “strife”, “discord”, “quarrel” or “contention”.
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