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#gurus
Warriors   Those who try to hurt others only end up hurting themselves, my love, passion and kindness is too strong. I am a warrior, I am the sword, I am the shield & most importantly the voice of reason, If you can relate then you too are a warrior, it is a revolutionary time and if you cannot relate then perhaps it’s a time for change and or a reconsideration.   Money, fortune and fame is not what we seek, it makes the heart weak, there is not enough space in my own or a fellow warrior’s heart for greed, pride or anything alike, Hence,   Those who hurt others only end up hurting themselves. We look to leaders, prophets & gurus for answers yet lose ourselves in the process, we forget that they are just people, and at times become unaware that they aren’t all that different from us, the answers lay within each and every one of us and we must remember that everyone is a teacher. The fight never stops, we must push ourselves every day, so, keep fighting, keep that fire going and try not to lose yourself in the process but if you do, don’t be scared because there’s always help, you just need to reach out.   Don’t forget that we are not survivors, we are not animals nor are we predators or prey, we are human, we are warriors. Hope you feel a little less alone,   Thank you.
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May 23, 2021
May 23, 2021 at 11:54 AM UTC
Warriors
तत् त्वम् असि *for sitar, mridangam, vina, musical spoons, washboard, Jew’s harp and banjo* (*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 ***** 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 ***** 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 ***** 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…”
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Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
Hindoo Folk Song
तत् त्वम् असि *for sitar, mridangam, vina, musical spoons, washboard, Jew’s harp and banjo* (*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 ***** 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 ***** 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 ***** 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…”
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