"brahman" poems
Holy River,
to see you
flowing
is to see
Brahman,
with eyes
fully open.
Plunging
into your
sacred self
is to be
forever
embraced,
Ma Ganga.
Torrents of
hard karma
came soon
thereafter,
like a curtain
of biting hail.
Searing pain
of surgery,
and doomed
love, nearly
choked me.
In all that
time, and
beyond
conscious
memory,
my body
was carried
upstream
in your
loving arms,
forever
protected
in you,
Ma Ganga.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC
You are the book written by the mystic eternal,
in sub atomic particles of each and everything
after transcending the limits of time,
on the wings of the thought in the primordial core,
that witnessed the seeds being sowed in the beginning.
I am entrenched in the inner urge of the spread of everything,
the surge of cosmic mind, all the five elements
the Brahman, most sublime, omnipresent,
at once, inert and omnipotent, a feat one of a kind
the waves of music, the subtle "ÄUM" containing all,
even when the symphony begins, and climbs to the crescendo
when self and the Master, my cosmic significant other,
merge in YOGA, the ocean, the confluence of consciousness.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
Your Messiah is not Christ
my Karma is not your dogma
Their AntiChrist is not the Mahdi
His avatar is not yet manifest
Our Dajjal is not their 12th Imam
Your Brahman is not my Elohim
The Atman is not the God-Man
Your God-Man is Luciferian
Our Lucifer is not their Allah
The Djinn are undocumented
some angels fell
Allah is not Ras Tafari
Their Zion is Babylon
Jerusalem is Egypt or *****
Their Angels are ascended Masters
Our Master is your ascended Savior
My Savior is your accuser
Their God is no Savior
His unction is Satanic
The war is spiritual
The Spirit is not obvious
My anointing is carnal
their anointing is moronic
our doctrine is angelic
Your rejection was predestined
our acceptance is divine
Our depravity is documented,
your sanctity is illusory
their power is diabolic
their light is darkness
Their leader is ungodly
Our God is unseemly
His Truth is offensive
The bitter is not sweet
the sweet is unworldly
the world is not heavenly.
Trinity in seven spirits, yet God is One…
Revel in the uncertainty. Have some holy fun
fitting more angels on the pin-head, dancing
before they fall. Rebellion is always entrancing
until the current postmodern theology
hooks up with psycho-sexual linguistic pathology.
Don’t accept my apology
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
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…”
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
A World in which free Thought is demonized
is a World seized by Demons
A World in which free Worship is demonized
is a World bereft of Sanctity
A World in which division of the One is glorified
is a World hopelessly mislead
A World which glorifies demonetization
is a World within the dominion of Hell
A World with such abidance towards Evil
may as well, itself, be Evil
but, ultimately, what is Evil
but knowing misuse of potential?
Energy is all that is.
Matter is but crystalline Energy
(and people say Science isn't mystical)
God, Tao, Zen, Allah, YHWH,
Brahman, Zeus, Jupiter, Ammon,
Mars, Ares, Týr, Horus, Kali, Mixcoatl,
Aphrodite, Athena, Venus, Minerva,
Isis, Ceres, Demeter, Freyr;
whatever you want to call
the ineffable Energies
is just fine by me,
but I maintain
the only Evil
is the intent
to misuse
that Cosmic Energy,
whence all was given rise,
and thereto all shall return,
for, truly, it never left
that Divine state;
that supple,
ephemeral,
dreamlike
Being-ness.
Hello.
Welcome back to Now:
Carpe diem.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
sustain inner spirit
through the winds of time
the changes will sweep
you through eternity
*ॐ पूर्णमदः पूर्णमिदं पूर्णात्पुर्णमुदच्यते
पूर्णश्य पूर्णमादाय पूर्णमेवावशिष्यते ॥
ॐ शान्तिः शान्तिः शान्तिः ॥*
but sustain yourself
through love and hate
sustain through destiny
through monotonous fate
countless rewinds and
fast forwards -
life is always
the same old play
and one day rise
above it all
onwards towards Brahman
with yourself reunite
*Om, That is Complete, This is also Complete, From Completeness rises that Completeness
From Completeness Subtract Completeness, and Completeness Remains
Om Peace, Peace, Peace.*
-Vijayalakshmi Harish
05.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC
►☼◄
ओं मणिपद्मे हूं
I sing the Self – that mystic fable.
Lie to Truth as Cain to Abel.
Inner blight of fallen man,
enemy of Heaven’s master-plan:
your inner SELF! The guiding light
of Luciferian deception.
Mystic wisdom’s blinding sight;
purveyed as truth: obscene confection.
Listen well – please spare your soul
and sidestep this, the blackest hole.
Your self is sewage! Look within;
behold that putrid old abyss
then dive down deep into your sin
the fallen source of carnal bliss.
Inspire. Inhale in full the stench
from deep within the septic trench
unsounded depths, a cesspool’s source
depravity released in force.
Apart from mercy undeserved
on those whom Heaven has reserved.
Apart from Christ, your sordid purpose;
jewel whose bright refracted surface
glistens, beckoning to the feast
yet never can appease the beast.
I hail your lie, oh Inner Self
you silted continental shelf –
(or are you more a surge oceanic:
roiling undertow satanic)?
New Age myth, and Hindu idol
fallen god whose pull is tidal…
Brahman, Atman, Buddha, babble
lies repackaged for the rabble…
How deep do you intend to go
into our post – Edenic show?
How far the bottom? Whence the end?
Explore ! You’ll never comprehend.
You’ll find still worse – and yet descend.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
All it takes
to be a Mystic
is to be willing
to take mental risks
for a chance at greater understanding;
All it takes
to be a Mystic
is to delve into the Void,
come back with some new thing
and share that thing with the World;
All it takes
to be a Mystic
is to be sensitive
to one's own Path
reminding others of theirs;
All it takes
to be a Mystic
is to not be afraid
to defy your Time, peers and Culture
to bring forth the Divinity inherent in everything;
All it takes
to be a Mystic
is not not be deterred
by what you are told, but instead
to be guided by what you feel truest in yourself;
All it takes
to be a Mystic
is to be able to interpret
and take things symbolically,
*Mythos and Logos*, synesthetically creating a new mutual Reality;
All it takes
to be a Mystic
is to be willing and able
to be a Prism for the Divine;
to purify the Mirror of your being;
All it takes
to be a Mystic
is to be Artistic; Creative and Imaginative,
not that the Mystic must be an Artist, or that any Artist is a Mystic,
but that the Mystic is most naturally expressed through the various Artistic mediums;
To be an example for the masses
of just how the many are One
as One is truly the many
and thus All is Divine:
How the Universe itself
and all it's inhabitants
are the expressions
reflections and
manifestations
of the Godself;
An illusion,
A Dream:
**Godself
and self
is One.**
--
All is a Chapel of Sacred Mirrors
divided by Mind
into Self and Other,
but all is truly Godself:
Collective Unconscious and Personal Conscious,
Brahman and Ātman,
Godself and Self;
One in the same.
Tat tvam asi.
All it takes
to be a Mystic
is to be willing and able
to look inward and learn:
Godself and Self;
One in the Same.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 3:21 AM UTC
High above the Holy River Ganges
where the water flows like Brahman itself,
is an ancient cave, a place of sacred pilgrimage.
Entering silently, our small gathering
sat together, meditating here where the great
sage himself transcended in deep samadhi.
Wrapped in warm shawls, dhotis and saris,
eyes closed gently in the stony half-light.
Early hours had seen us awake, readying
for this auspicious day, and the sleepiness
of a little child began to overtake me.
With that same innocence, a childlike feeling,
I curled down into a woolen bundle, asleep
in the inner depths of that holy, dark place.
Sleep was sleep, and not sleep,
as awareness shone within me.
Limitless akasha unfolded inside me now,
and the ground where I rested expanded
into that same unbounded, cosmic space.
From far beneath the cool, damp earth,
a radiance travelled into my small frame.
Renewing energy suffused and blessed me.
Bowing in my heart, I touch the lotus feet
of Maharishi Vashistha. His darshan
shines on into our present day, and
throughout all of Ved Bhumi Bharat.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 12:16 PM UTC
Will you break off with me,
my beloved,
morsel for morsel laddu*?
My dream doesn’t come to me,
my bed is divided,
my heart – dry,
fire is rankling me.
You’ll regret,
my beloved,
if you taste it –
outside it’s sweet
inside – bitter.
Twice more,
my beloved,
your tear will run fast
if you pass me by scornfully.
In my chest
I wear a diamond of snake,
a lion-hair on my wrist,
a wealth of Brahman
in my head.
Will someone take them, gifted
someone else but my death?
Ah, my beloved,
marry me.
*a round syrup sweet made of gram floor
The original:
Ходжата тича само до джамията
Ще отронваш ли с мене,
моя възлюбена,
късче по късче ладду*.
Сънят ми не ме спохожда,
леглото ми е делено,
сърцето – сухо,
огън ме гложди.
Ще съжаляваш,
моя възлюбена,
ако го вкусиш –
отвън е сладко,
отвътре – горчиво.
Дваж пъти повече,
моя възлюбена,
сълзи ще лееш
ако отминеш презрително.
Във гърдите си
диамант от змия нося,
косъм от лъв на китката си,
богатство на брахмин
в главата си.
Ще ги вземе ли някой дарени,
освен смъртта ми?
Ах, моя възлюбена,
омъжи се за мене.
___________
* кръгъл сиропиран сладкиш от нахутeно брашно.
Translator Bulgarian-English: Vessislava Savova
rarebird
© bogpan - all rights reserved.
May 21, 2011
May 21, 2011 at 9:39 PM UTC
In the end it was a case of
'I've probably got to piss;'
moving off in all directions
seeking the hallow holy spill
-drip of sweet relief. the
washroom is the last place you
are guaranteed solitude like a
lil tyke meditation chamber the
Brahman made sure could not be
tainted with distraction or 'I'd
rather not's,'and it's not that
you'd rather, because kind waits
and last moments go by like this.
but you can safely and suavely
admit to yourself as you lie awake
in bed that you really probably have
to **** it's your body speaking in
liquid laughter.
it's a part of your language the
rain-clouds have crafted.
it is one relationship that has
eternally lasted.
Oh, holy human waste!
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 9:19 PM UTC
:Ignite
.ılılıll ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴏᴡ llılılı
SToP:
Lemme seizure
perception
knowledge is a question
asked in reflection
yup, such a simple inception
but we all get caught up while we messin
learning earth's sacred lessons
What now though?
Identity//beheaded
Grey ghost, unleaded
got odds like Yudhistira so
we betted our :/:
ego:: we had to shed it
problem:: we known to vet it
poison:: we GOTTA **** it
old skin:: WE SHED THAT TOO
Known to fold my body like oragami
quiet uprising you call call me ghandi
preach non-violence
practice samadhi
Principly Primal
powerful and bridal
*** in more dimensions
the many armed eater of time holding on like I'm ******* kali
wannabe-Ascetic, dreaded, wandering in the right line,
posture asuna-siva, like I'm ******* Kali, See time as convex
atman = brahman
means I'm God Complex
Every day set fire to myself like Sati
Go ash to mouth
and make myself rise
like a phoneix
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 12:18 PM UTC
As I walk
I ruminate
on death and life
On why there is so much love
And so much strife
The heart it’s nature intrinsic
Is to seek
The bonds that bind
The soul to the earth
The heart is tied to a nodal beat
And functions to generate ****** heat
To celebrate this life full and enjoy
To love another with complete joy
The soul’s mission extrinsic
Is to simply soar majestic
Created a free verse
It desires to float in the universe
The heart was formed at this birth
The soul existed before birth
And shall exist after death
This difference between the heart and soul
Is the reason for our sorrows sole!
Why then you cry my dear friend
For there is no meaning to our earthly end
There is simply no premise
For the sadness of this corporeal demise
For the soul was born to journey endless
To be merged with *Brahman consciousness
*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brahman
Author Notes
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 2:44 AM UTC
Imagine that here in front of me I have a sachet of salt, a spoon and a bowl of water, I then mix the salt into the water and let it dissolve; after some time I try and remove a spoonful of water from the bowl, a spoonful of water that does not taste salty. I cannot [using the tools that he gave himself at the start]. That is the nature of Brahman, the teacher explained, existing both in and as everything.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 1:05 AM UTC
God ***** ****
In a trailer park @ 3AM
Because They feel
This is the only way
To make it till Friday;
Then They’ll smile,
Wet eyes lifting the Children
They have not held
For too long
Because Their sins were judged
By a person proclaiming
they loved “Him.”
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 1:43 PM UTC
Nothing is eternal.
Only that which dwells
outside the realm of reason
is forever eternal.
No, it isn't "God"
but it is what it is
that is so often misinterpreted
by so many as "God".
""God" is just another thing we've created
to try to make the unfathomable
fathomable.
So is Tao. So is Brahman. So is Allah. So is YHWH/Yahweh.
These are just constructs for our limited perceptions and ignorance; for our need for words.
Because nothing is eternal,
everything is sacred.
Divine.
Holy.
Transient and shifting.
Not in a dogma sort of way, for that diminishes the possibilities.
More of a dynamic spiritualism kind of way.
Forever changing, recycling, pulling and pushing.
Like water, or good music.
There is peace in this existence.
You've just gotta learn to allow it to embrace you.
The more you deny, the less you experience.
Jul 20, 2012
Jul 20, 2012 at 9:06 PM UTC
Soma
a pharmaceutical usurpation
some subjunctive psychedelic
noxious decoction
of the capital kind
wrought by unoriginality
a conjuring elixir
to ignite the material mind
Maya
will have you
if you don't recognize
behind appearances
is always a disguise
beyond the superficial
over what eyes can surveil
may entitle you to what is
to be entailed
Yuga
beyond the ages
beyond the sages
epochs and eras
multiplied to infinity
expecting some recourse
exponential beyond sanity
gauges of the cyclical planetary
Akasha
ubiquitous aether
all pervading
all invading
revelations' recordings
substratum of
then and now
rife marshaler of how
Ishwara
great atman
ultimate overseer
transcending all time
cosmic conscience
consciousness sublime
beyond everything
sight unseen
Samadhi
reign over me
the be all and end all
of life's raisons d'être
superconsciousness
enlightenments
bestowal
of divine grace and mercy
Gunas
by knowledge of these moods
this will allow you
ambrosia of all roads
in your journey ahead
to navigate solely
without flag or fail
through equipoise unassailed
Ahimsa
through this your lips
can no longer trespass
over your welfare
or the welfare of any other
true liberation
from human inebriation
true love for one another
Siddhis
they will misunderstand you
not being like the same
eschewing commonality
for the perfected mindscape
a narrowed perspective
to focus more completely
upon the rarest of views
Om
what can be said
of this holiest sound
that permeates all ethers
the skies and the grounds
Brahman of this plane
and all that surrounds
now perish all that confounds
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
I deny this multiplicity of being
And
I invoke the infinite
for I AM
——————————
Call me the soul seeker, the mystic, the mage
I am Brahman, I am creation
I am becoming, I am manifest
I am death
I am nothing
I am all
I strive ever towards death
So I can flow back into life
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 9:58 PM UTC
I met a guy named Adam,
said he was sick of being Jewish,
his parents flaunting all their wealth
& Peter wished he hadn’t been *******
by some of his brethren Christian fellows,
took him for everything he was worth.
Oh and Aashif told me he was tired
of playing pious Muslim, listening to all
those car bomb exploding on his city streets,
& Neelkamal wondered about Para Brahman,
why some of his kinsmen
treated the women
like cheap ******
So even if I have
to go underground
like Salmon Rushdie did,
I think I’ll keep my own religion,
thank the sun & the moon
& count my lucky stars
here on sacred-Earth
in blessed hiding.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 6:33 AM UTC
When all the world is a giant burden,
Banerji sir, my colleague, a true SST Allen.
“Maan ki bat Modi ke Sath; rest other shun,”,
Says always my friend Banarji, never stun
Or stagger or startle, never remains barren.
Best friend who teaches Dhruvi and others Balkan,
Or India with psychology, without an apron.
Kenil, Hari, Bhavin, Shivani had some unban;
With Favourite dish of Dada, a fish; talks on Patan,
Sings hymns, buzzes about Mahakali one.
Says, “Your age is less than my profession.”
Scolds us, “Worst batch of year” – a Pun?
He is Bangali babu, wears dhoti, kurta even,
Talks about SST, and about doors wide open.
He is a Brahman, takes plausible action,
Wearing a chevron, is our Divine’s lion.
Meshwa, Diya, and Pitambar are clearly won,
With Aryan, Harsh, Nupur, Dishal and billion.
Let it be Shakespeare or Keats or Byron
He is through with all, has a great fortune.
Appreciates my Monorhyme and region
Never keeps quiet, but is pure bullion.
Dear to my students, Esha, Jeet or Rohan.
Prosper a lot is my wish, Oh! Aaron!
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 9:33 PM UTC
I've this new friend, she's so complete.
Solid as a rock, from her head to her feet.
We met online, sharing poems, lives and paths.
We talked about everything and always have a laugh.
She's shared her life … from before and in the now.
She's a busy gal with a family and a really great man.
She works a job, writes her poems
and is forever making plans.
We've shared some deep thoughts …
and found many things in common.
But my favorite thing about new my friend …
is that she's as stubborn as a Brahman!
That's a type of Bull,
for those of you who don't know …
just try and steer her off of her path …
and those horn's she'll surely show.
Feisty, fierce … opinionated too …
To claim that she is headstrong … would not be untrue.
She's a really great Mom, with a brood to be proud of, no jest.
They are accomplished and well rounded, always doing their best.
I'm so happy that I've met this pal,
even chatted with her and hubby on the phone.
I'm sure that when we finally meet in person,
our kinship will be wholly grown.
That will be great,
a new closeness to live and to be.
But this will bring yet another task …
a task just for me.
For this is only part one of my poem …
Part two to be written when …
I finally see and hug my new friend(s) …
and our friendship starts yet again!
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 8:00 AM UTC
The All-Creative Godself,
in order to keep itself amused,
slips periodically and intentionally into a Dream
in order to stage a Play
wherein it plays all roles:
Actors, Plot, Context,
Script, Lighting, Director,
Author and Audience.
The Play of the Godself,
known as Māyā in Hindu Philosophy,
is the illusory perception of separation
of Ātman and Brahman;
of Self and Godself;
made so in order for the Godself to distract itself
from the fact that it plays all roles simultaneously and perpetually:
After all, if there is no apparent struggle for improvement of oneself and of the world at large,
nor winding and hidden path leading towards Enlightenment;
what is the purpose of the Play of the All-Creative Godself?
--
There is no boundary other than Perception
between Self and Godself.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 1:26 AM UTC
The Brahman trampled by
I thought she’d surely die
But up from salted sands
A wild rose there stands
Cloud of dust at dusk
Horns and hides of rust
Brey and sprint and ******
Stampede in breach of trust
She stood before them tall
Her will to still them all
I saw her stand, and fall
Amid their hooves, ragdoll
I thought her gone; undone
An angel death had won
Then up from salted sands
My wild rose then stands
She grins, and slaps her hands
And chases down her brands
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 1:18 PM UTC
Plop
The drop hits the water
The Atman cannot be seperated from the Brahman
Brahman exists in and as everything
The wise person
Ignores the material
And seeks the spiritual
Let us be sincere
Sincere in our thoughts
And in our deeds
Life is powerful, isn't it?
I wonder what it would be like
To share a hug
With a loving person
I am 30 now
I would like to hug
A compassionate and loving woman
To gently massage her back
Human warmth
Oh how I have dreamed of this
I hope to meet someone like this
I am afraid that our friendship
May result in love
In physical intimacy
I am saving myself
For that woman
We share a love of history
And literature
We laugh and cry
We live together
We have a great love
Maybe
It is possible?
Hmm
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC