I was born from the ashes of fear, guilt and shame.
Cut me into pieces and I will grow separately from all the blood-spattered pieces of my being.
Freer than before.
I have those cuts hidden somewhere under my skin.
I still breath through unhealed wounds.
I still bleed every month.
I still believe in lies.
I still choose the wrong path.
I don't need your religion to believe in myself.
I don't need you to wipe my blood stains.
I don't need you to tell me what's right.
Not this time.
Burn me and every inch of my flesh will explode viciously to reborn again and again.
Fierce than before.
My blood is still boiling and running through my fresh veins.
I won't let you drown in the hollowness
I won't immolate myself
I won't give you a chance to carry my burned flesh.
I won't follow these path of illiberal rules.
I don't want you to compromise your love.
I don't want you to devour the poison.. alone.
I don't want you to suffer ..just because you are supposed to.
Not this time..
Not this time.

With her three eyes and many arms Kali Ma leaned in to tell me the secret of this year.
She told me with regret and hate filling my life- I wouldn't be getting anywhere.
She said with trust and loyalty- one day I'll find my back again.
To a live that's full of love and hope instead of sadness and sin.

The Dark Mother- the Goddess of destruction and creation told me she, herself, was the bearer of contradictions.
She said we all fall apart and there are ways to get back up if we just open our eyes.
Instead of filling our self with doubt and questioning the truth instead of the lies.

So within the Ocean  of Blood I have been created by Kali Ma- and I will sooner than later be destroyed by her power.
But before the year is up she has given me the truth to rise up and fight her.
I will change for myself and I become one with the truth's that lie within me.
I will remember the good instead of the bad so it doesn't destroy all of me.

I will wear red as gypsies must do when their funeral is near.
I will let Kali Ma devour me and send me home without fear.
I will wear pride knowing I have found the truth and let the lies go.
I will be at peace when I have figured out everything I needed to know.

So frightful beautiful harridan
your extended & startling tongue
red rapturous rolling eyes
dark, dark skin,

sword, sickle & trident
already stained,
dripping ...
& lapped by the dogs
at your Divine feet.

Around your neck
glazed eyed
silent,
threaded, beaded
blank faced,
your victims skulls,

surprised no doubt,
at your swiftness,
caught in mid-flight
in activities bold
& terrible.

Lieutenant William Calley,
Captain Ernest Medina,
Lieutenant Frank Barker,
So, so many from Charlie Company
guilty on that fateful day
in My Lai 4
South Vietnam
March 16
1968.

Met Kali today on a descending escalator at the Galleria. Her six arms juggled assorted shopping bags, purse, cell phone, three children, and a fourth in a stroller clearly not hers. I stepped down in front to help balance her baby buggy. No sooner had I reached out for the rubber bumper that I felt lash of her tongue against my cheek. It was hot and frothy, smelled like a tall, non-fat  latte with caramel drizzle, and quickly wrung itself around my neck. I was soon dangling from the precipice of an oversized potted fern where I had been perched by my assailant, high above the food court. I dangled dangerously as I saw chinks of chain giving way. The glass ceiling was begining to crack and about to cave in on me. I swung out and with all agility I could muster, landed in the Bagel Nosh's assorted schmears. Hisses and jeers decried. An angry mob of mothers chased me to the nearest exit. I almost didn't make it out alive.

Oh there’s nothing you can do to turn this day around
The universe is set in black matter
and it’s oozing here consistently
Milady, Mara’s on another rampage
Try to sit down and enjoy
Maybe this rooftop will hold up long enough
to give us a sublime view

She is spontaneous poetry, no need to be written,
a dam burst of emotions subtle,on what I float along,
a whirlwind at an unpredictable time of the season
looking for an intimate space to churn and churn and churn.

By now, I know this without her even hinting,
all her dark clouds will rain in torrents nonstop
in to my landscape, sultry, broad and tranquil
I am an open sky, a stage ready for changing realities
a cloudless calm now in meditative expansiveness,
ready to change from dark, cloudy turgidity
to it's contrast, white feathery fluff that's dreamy.

This time round, when she visited,she did lie naked
on my bed supine, looking at me wistfully for a while
in my mind's sky beams of morning sun criss- crossed
all the nine openings of my body tightly shut, I sat meditating.

But I felt her chaotic presence in the energy field spreading,
she hurriedly removed her clothes one by one,smiling
in the buff she alights on my lap,a butterfly on a flower was her,
by and by a sweet heaviness enveloped my *****, in union with hers

I hear the primordial boom of the big bang, refining as an "Om"
travelling sans any medium it goes outwards to expanding universe.
to the 1"Chidakasha" where everything begins and go beyond.

Her storm energy, Tantric, seeks alleviation of existential pain,
I hear my glowing inner eye whispering in  light to the far galaxies,
In one form she is so much, past present and future converged,
She is 2"Mahatripurasundari", great enchantress of the three worlds.
Shakthi, the feminine energy that moves earth, heaven and hell,
Kali, the dark energy, seeking sublimation through catharsis.

On me she moves like a tortoise deliberately,my nervous system reads,
She would defeat the hare and win the laurel, in yogic, trance I discern.

Kali, Mother of Time & Change
obliterates superficial reality

creates black matter
to mold & form

The crippled bull has yet to live Another Day
It proudly ambles on Year to Year
Its discordant song
Triumphant

Is an iron sword that clefts, rips apart The Age
Four hundred and thirty-two thousand
Times over and over
Gutting the

Detested coward and honored brave alike
‘Tis the stench of war and of hot oil
Quickly seeping o’er the
Horizon

With the armies aflame and howling for battle
Crimson red bloodlust and scarlet wrath
‘Tis the jewels that adorn
The tyrant’s

Crown, gleaming and fiery with authority
‘Tis the wedding bed of the wretch’d *****,
Defil’d, soil’d, forsook
No man can

Deny the captivating, luxurious tune
O mighty bull, your song may last from
age to age, and you may
Hobble on

your single leg

Bellowing
and roaring victory
and dominion o’er the nations
But even you must fall down, bow, and come to rest

At

the feet of

A humble

Lamb.

Ah, now I remember.
It was in those rare moments when you say something different.
Words weave in and out of your lips
but your eyes have the freshly stitched smile
like that of a child
listening to their favorite bed-time story.
Satin slips from your mouth,
wrapping around the beating murmurs
below my necklace
triangle yantra of Kali,
under a lacy leopard bra,
beneath the tattooed deviant octopus,
and soothes the palpitations
to a comfortable pause.
We don't always need air to **breathe.