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Thank you, photographer of this online photo.

The ancient Wise One said, “Those who are ashamed of me and my words, of them I will be ashamed….”


It is still true.

If you are ashamed to be a friend of someone who has shown you only kindness and generosity,

it is a putrid shame.



bewitched (2)

This past year was filled with shock.

I found my dear one whom I lost whom I found again.

I lost my heart to a though tender prison

Held by my own will and longing.

I heard “I am forever with you in your heart.”

“I am with you,” from the opposite side of the world.

In the old year I was the universal spiritual soul.

In the new year, don’t talk to me about spiritual love.

Give me your love god body –

Your blood, bone, sweat and moans body.



The Secret . . .

temple in cave in Thailand
Temple in a Cave in Thailand ~ internet photo. Thank you, anonymous photographer.


So, what is the secret to life?

I have dwelled in the moment, counted my blessings, trusted, surrendered, waited, viewed everything as nothing, become Nothing, thought, refrained from thought in meditation, done, been, believed, confessed and repented.

Now — I am what I am.

I give up.

Not really.

The heart wants what the heart wants.


At Age 69

The mad woman in the attic 

who has been held captive all these years

has busted down the door,

is stomping down the stairs,

and screaming,




~ Idea from Erica Jong
~ Photos my own
~ Angry Indian Goddess online art. Thank you unknown artist.





The Magic Carpet Ride ~Apollinari Mikhailovich Vasnetsov

“ . . . I’ll wait for you . . . Sleight of hand and twist of fate . . . I can’t live with or without you . . . .”  ~ U2

Where is the place inside me that is the Source of life?

When I pause to notice this space, I sense Mystery, Freedom, Beauty.

Then I see you.

How long have you been here?

Are you part of the Divine who dwells here?

Are you a component of my Freedom?

Or is Freedom not wanting or needing any person?


I know I pray to be Free with or without you.

To love you cool.

I also pray to grasp your hands,

Touch your face,

Kiss your back. . . .


Welcome the lion . . .

roaring lion
online art — Thank you anonymous artist.

Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour.” ~ I Peter 5:8b

Welcome the lion on your path.” ~ Mooji

When one comes face to face with a lion, you melt away.

At that moment you have no past,

no plans,

no expectations,

no titles,

no future.

You are instantly stripped

of the superfluous —

Stripped to nothing

but your essential, authentic


We all have those moments in life

when we face a lion on our path.

Welcome those moments —

To encounter

one glimmering momentary insight

into One’s Eternal Self.

The Eternally Lucid Adulteress

angry Indian goddess
Kali ~ internet art


Do not tell me your family is my family.

Your family is not my family.

They are her family.

I have no family.




Do not tell me your family loves me.

They fear me.

When they saw the care between us,

they could not marry you off fast enough.

“Aha. We will be rid of that powerful, influential, golden devil.

We will not lose our control over this useful, servant son.”

She has the love of your family.

I have no love from your family.



Do not tell me your house is my house.

It is her house.

You are building that room with the arched window for her.

That room is not for me.

I will never see it.

I will never sleep in it.

I have no room.

I have no house.



When you look at your first newborn daughter,

you will know her name is Rajjean.

Without Rajjean, you would not have been eligible to marry.

Without Rajjean, you would have had no life.

But she now owns Rajjean.

I have no Rajjean.



Be rid of Rajjean?

I am etched in your soul.

I am the shame and salvation

of you and your family.



I do not have their naivety.

I do not have their fear.



agonizing wolf
online howling wolf tattoo

On your wedding day she will appear before you like a vision —

bedecked in colors, adorned in jewels, chains and piercings.

. . . . Bright virgin . . .young stranger flower.

No one will be able to take their eyes off her.

You will be intoxicated by your weariness, your horniness,

your ownership of her.

She will be timid.

You will not be timid.


Your friends will revere you like a home-returning warrior

after his conquest.  You will seed many babies into your

chaotic, over-populated, hungry nation

with its holy history.

Sacred people will stand near you during the ceremony

(men, of course) extracting meaningless promises for a contract

with sole purpose to breed and please

the obtuse, old and obsolete in attendance.


You might love her at first sight.

She will love you at first sight.

But the festivities will be distant, empty-eyed —

the dances heavy-footed burdens

for the sake of enchanting Home land and its survival.


Then will come the time for the climatic conquest,

when you can remove her heavy coverings and

she will shed her jewels one by one — for you.

Her skin will be amber silk, her breasts will be twins,

her vagina will be tight, tight, tight.

You will fuck, fuck, fuck her until she begs for mercy.

(There is nothing quite so enticing as fucking a total stranger.)

She will weep and bleed for you.

And you will be in love.


You won’t notice or remember the old bitch

sitting on her haunches in the corner of the room —

howling and snapping at the universe with slicing cries. . . .

. . . . Without tears.

She will be there through the entire ceremony and

eternal nights to follow — moaning,

cursing her whiteness,

cursing her agedness,

vomiting up bloodied pieces of her shredded heart,

vomiting up her own bones — one at a time.