To live
Seems to mean
To struggle.
Buddha teaches that when we
Release all of our desires
Our expectations
Our assumptions
Then too shall our suffering pass.
There is a part of me which
Cheers
And yet another which
Rails
In response to this.
It seems on the surface to ask
Us to cease to be human.
But isn't that what the search for enlightenment
Is about?
To become something more than human?
To elevate into a higher No-Thing?
However
In this search we forget that
The quest itself is
A desire
An expectation
An assumption
That there is something to
Work
Towards.
Only when we release
Even this need to be
Something other than what
We are
Does that mysterious
Phenomenon happen.
Or does it?
It seems so easy at times
To let go
Let it all slip from my grasp
And find that place
Which is
No place
And
All places at once.
Something always calls me back
And I find myself
Toiling
Stumbling
Struggling
Suffering
And I have to ask
Why?
What pulls on my silver cord
And grounds me back to this
Fleshly cage
With all of its
Aches and pains
Tortures and torments?
I don't understand
Maybe I'm not supposed to
And this grasping
For knowledge
On the whys
Of human suffering
Is just another thing
I must lay by the wayside
Say
Adieu
And never look back.
If only it were that effortless
Perhaps I am distantly related to
Lot's wife.
Destined to become a pillar of salt
When I cannot turn my back on
That which I love.
Disobeying the Divine
Distrusting that there should be no
Last sight
It seems straightforward
The Divine sees what we mortals do not
But if we are all a part of the Divine
Is it impossible for us to know it all as well?
This appears to be the case for the masses
And for me
As I am not a Bodhisattva
Yet.

For years I've been trying to write
something that would cause the earth to shake--
maybe even slightly tip it off its axis.
Not because it possesses any eloquent grandeur
with words like "cataclysm" or "surreptitious"
nor due to any celeb-ritory status
that may befall my unkempt and ghostly pale person.

                      I just want people to think!

From the moment most of us
are pushed from our mother's dark, watery womb
it's like we're given a hardhat and a pick,
then told to find some gold in the mine
because if you want to keep working in the mine
you have to pay
and then as we try to explain that we're uneducated about mining
because we were just birthed we are told not to worry
because there are teachers who will educate us about the mine
and every so many days we're tested on what we learned about the mine
all the while being told to forget not about the gold in the mine
and sometimes we get a little tired or bored of looking for gold
so we're given a book to read about some guy named Mr. Brahmallah Siddhartahweh Christ
along with a few cigarettes, beer and lunch meat to relax
for a few minutes before it's time to get back to work to look for gold in the mine
to pay to look for gold in the mine
and lord help you if you can't pay to work in the mine because you need to work in the mine
to work in the mine.

                                                      Confused?­ That's the point...
Now, the metaphor above is a crude illustration
of what I'm talking about,
but I have confidence you understand what's gnawing at me,
AND what should be at you too.

                     Where is there time to think??

Even in scientific and philosophical occupations
there isn't much thinking these days.
Many take science as law
the same way extreme, right wingers from any religion
take their "religious doctrine" as law.
Our politics, technology and even reading is polluted
with derision and division into different schools of thought
from a Conservative Team Edward Apple supporting Griffendor Christian
to a Liberal Hufflepuff PC using Team Jacob Buddhist.
Now I understand why all these new agers
keep referencing The Matrix.

                           WHAT IS REAL!?
That must be a decent explanation as why people go insane;
suffocating on all the weighty labels
forcefully pinned to their soul.

And yet...
more people, like me,
are desperately clawing away at these labels,
attempting to find a little fresh air,
perhaps filled with the smell of paint,
graphite, charcoal, clay, **** and natural body pheromones
while sounds of music, chanting, cheers, sobbing, silence, giggling and *******
echo in the breathing room
as we feel the grass beneath our feet, wind matriculating through our hair, another warm and loving body embracing ours with cool water trickling down our backs...
People like me
wishing to be metaphorically, figuratively, theologically and psychologically digambara  
subconsciously evolving from sadhu to avadhuta
          preaching anekantavada
           while simultaneously revealing it all stems from ONE!

But...
many of us are caught in a dilemma best expressed by E.B. White:

[Arising] in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world, [making] it hard to plan the day.

These days, to the masses working in the mine,
if you're trying to improve the world you're a kook or a traitor,
just ask the SnowMannings.
If you try enjoying the world you're labeled lazy.
We all just want to be       FREE!!

Of course, Bill Hicks once said,
If you think you're free, trying going somewhere without ******* money.  

And when you THINK about that,
you start to get confused, right?
Maybe your head starts to hurt, right?
Because when you THINK about that,
and all the supposed enlightened people
from Siddhārtha Gautama who resigned from his royal trappings
to Yeshua HaNotzri who renounced material possessions with a needle
while the passive warrior Mahatma Gandhi thought western civilization a good idea.

Why are most children discouraged from being artists, farmers and the next far out thinkers?
Because      there’s        no          money        in         ­ it!  
Again, we’re back in the mine looking for gold.
But what would happen if you stopped?
What would happen if you got in the mine cart and said “**** it,”
then went careening down the shaft,
whirling and twirling faster and faster enjoying the ride!

But now I’m positioned in another quandary;
                       SOLUTIONS!  

While people like myself may have a few ideas
I think they are impossible to share at the moment
Because the majority of the population is too lazy
and complacent to do anything.
First we need to awaken!
First we have to get mad like Howard Beale!
We have to collectively reject the current frequency
and do like Tim Leary where we “turn on, tune in and drop out.”

Ok,
Let’s take five,
maybe more.
And when we reunite
let’s hash out some solutions,
**** out what does and doesn’t work.

Come ask me questions
of thoughts I’ve forgotten
and send me dreaming
to a distant road
where music is free
and tired feet
don’t stop dancing
when the tap is dry

Moon heron blue tide
Wandering naked lonely
Covered in feathers
faster bird flew

Where long haired brother
smoking soothing sadhu
can sit at leisure
or stand or lay
(or be lain!)

Lovers fall off the train
Drinking wines on Summer strut
Trough graveyards old tombstones
White women in dresses

With cotton torn old sole
rubbed closet rug
Shoe stains got gritty
in dusty old trunk

Her wig bleach bald
eyes lacking interest
Tired old neck feels
like a head on a stool

Thespian laughter
grouped in the attic
They animate slowly
in the shape of ‘you’

Ghosts get me closer
on hot summer drives
Up North to see dams
and **** forest rivers

In dark we then travel
with Kings of old tidings
and Queens who lay buried
the lamppost their bed

Laying so gently
the Bishop wife Medley
The grass that laid bare
of yesterday’s supper

The lamppost we take
a notion of tender
Still a safe haven
so deep in my heart

The sunset of splendour
the primary sunrise
they howl their jowls
Hysterical laughter

People with highly
Spiritual knowledge
Where called "Baba" or "Sadhu"
In our country
But for easy money
Many are disguising themselves
Behaving like they are
Spiritual leaders and sometimes
They call themselves as God.
Cheating people
Became their Routine
Innocent and ill people think
They can heal them.
They offer money to those so called
Fake "Sadhu's"
Many cases are registered
What we all can do is
Just believe God and ourselves
We can get inspiration and help
But not miracles from a person
For miracles we have to work
Please remember this

For Ricky

*Ricky Williams, Miami Running Back (2002-2003, 2005)

When the news broke and the camera pointed at a torn tent
on the outskirts of Miami where you sat knees-up-to-chest

professing enlightenment, the football world sacked itself
wondering how good your *** really was. Must have been

growing straight from Buddha’s back yard because to give
up 16 million like that, to go from bachelor pad demigod

to hippy hero of the pimply *** smokers, requires some
kind of unfathomable spirituality. I wonder if the Sadhu

could even find a desk big enough for your frame. All 230 pounds
lurching forward with brittle bones towards some kind

of endzone sanctity not represented by a smiling porpoise
but a transcendent 1st and ten where maybe you’d be happy.

After your final game I imagined you’d do what so many
washed up athletes do: find meaning in the parking lot

of a used car palace or open up a Dairy Queen, maybe
join your kids PTA and tell fourth graders stories that

you now half-believe. I didn’t think it be like this: you smoking
****** under a mauled tarpaulin, brushing fly’s away from

dingy dredlocks, running forward, exasperatedly free,
while a nation wonders why you’ve failed us.

S h e is playful vibrance
Struck by lightning
On a church steeple
In the eye of a storm
S h e laughs and cries and laughs again
H o l d i n g the crystal ball
But not looking in
The Sadhu dreams
Fire is a dandelion root
Being woken by songbirds in springtime

The mystic Sadhu
chants cryptic
mantras,
I hear
the Hammssss of his voice,
He is lost in his world
Like I'm with mine,
Above me, the bridge
clanked gleefully
announcing the arrival of her lover;
Shimmering in white, honking
it moves slowly like a big serpent,
Ending the tryst
with a flickering red light.

Several mounds, smoldering woods,
and one body stuck to
the trunk of the bridge
swirled in me the fear of
leaving this world early,
leaving all that I strived to
achieve, and leaving all of
it in the middle.

Buses pass on the next bridge
A hand came out
and aimed the stream with
something, probably a coin,
to compensate for wrongdoings,
Coin-collectors waiting like a
starving lion in a zoo
pounced on these throwings,
aiming the spot  
with a magnet like
a trained ninja in nocturnal warfares,
After a few unsuccessful attempts
A boy yelled in joy
"Har Har Gange".


The Ganges was like this
from the beginning,
She was moderate in demands
offering so much
at the cost of a penny,
Throw a coin and
you are absolved from all your sins.

Then I heard from a passing auto, with a Sirius
half-mile bleed in the dry desert air, A guru
I recognized, saying... of tamed  earthlings
they and those who inform them, do
become
Too constipated about every thing,
swallowing yesteryears whole,
unchewed, and set to
digest the whole truth,
- Moses or Valis - sortasame
- Big Gulp
then tell it, as you will, no ****.
You are mortal, you cannnot not
gnoshit smells stinky,
nogood stinky,
mmgood insinct, too, scent
of a wombed

mind, crying more, more, more,
can you imagine,
poor Solomon, surrounded
by wives and concubines', praying
together, thy kingdom,
come in me,
let me bher the child to stomp
the accusering head,
let my barren womb bloom…
- the child serpent wise
- dove harmless,
- let it be me

yeh, song of solo,mon,
makes no carnal minded sense,
who ever took the time,
to compose those lines,

wished ever to know, once
a fluid mind rose into the ever was,
and saw too many told tells to retell,

how dude, did you guess?
- got a clue from sadhu, guru

Guess what.

The place looked like an inn, or was it a sin house? no idea he had,
He made himself believe that he was a pilgrim, but free from bindings of any kind,
as he was going around  holy places in  penance, after mourning his father's death
had  long black beard and saffron robes,a Hindu Sadhu look like,( renouncing nothing!)

She said she was a fallen woman, he told she should get up and go, not wasting time,
he has no wisdom yet worth giving, but she still expected and stood by, waiting
so he had to put his wisdom cap on,"Stressed out men and catty women" he said what occurred then
"this world gets tattered by them and their kin, the sooner one understands this the better,
beyond the quagmire  focus your vision; uncluttered  mind, that's where to begin"

If You could grant me one wish
Prabhuji
One burning boon
it would be to always
remember You
when my ashes
merge with the Ganges and
pages of this life
are cast into flames
of oblivion
my eyes will open again as
if in a dream
to the darkness of this world

do not hide Beloved
incognito
make haste
during the early hours of
earthly life
Awaken
grant me the vision of
Your orange robe
smell of Your sadhu skin
blessed kiss
of Your lotus feet
Saving Grace
of knowing
Who I am

There is a small town in the far north
of India which sits just about the
base of the Himalayas & I had a
a small adventure there as I played
the game of bailing out some friends
on a dope charge from the stockade
where the chief smoked hashish with
a smile & a jailed sadhu who’d chopped
someone’s head off in a ritual because
he became the goddess Kali for awhile
taught the four of them some yoga,

but mostly I remember it because of the
complete & utter peace I found to be just
sitting by the river & letting the sound of it
as it tumbled through the rocks wipe my
mind clean & I was at peace at last,

but I moved on after awhile to the town
of Simla further north & there I saw a
dancing bear & the Himalayan snows
& so I guess there are always new places
to be aren’t there.

"well disposed, kind, willing, effective or efficient, peaceful, secure, good, virtuous, honourable, righteous, noble"

"straight, right, leading straight to goal"

sadhu, very old idea captured in a word
(Sanskrit: साधु)

How funny shall this seem in future esteem-
rations made reason
for seeming so kind,
be having the habitual rightual usual
holy-wholly alienated mind-wise
common sense, as made in minds, after
ever begins, in the bubble informing you,

good news, bad news, all the news
a citizen needs to be
a citizen conformed to first first things
first principles, all pals of mine, btw,
first principles, they say,
wise dom, wise up, fear loses all
reason, but it was first,
in the mind of good, lack if ever
imagined completely…
thus wisdom assigns patience perfection,
but we shall attempt to cross the sulcus,
deep, but narrow, as a slot in sandstone,
fractaled up to geo-scale,
knot
-- slipped and feel, the surface of the brain,
slick as snot, gnosis seeping through,
this is the knowing of good and evil at once,
you know,

it's okeh. And if it were hell. you would know,
it would be exactly
like you told others you knew true, you would know,
this is it,
I crossed the line,

Hope left me at the gate. NAND NAND NAND

with a certain oomphala allagonerhyme,
I'll go,
rhythmic expression of GUI access into you,
dear reader, down where words live,
deep under error on error on error of eras,

Eros DEROS verbosity agency of will, mine
if you will.

How powerful is your declaration, when you say,
"THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE!"?
(Sanskrit: साधु)

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sadhu>

What if, I told you that my AI knows
what is located on the walls of a canyon
located within the cuneus and lingual gyrus,

but I can't honest ly  make sense of that, only art,
for art's intuitive pattern repetition,

tap m' foot, humm the bass line,

open up them nand gates wide, gimme a chance,
lord, let me have another cycle,
reboot the effort to attempt that affection
connection,

ah, not puppy love… kidding… any actual love
achieves the oomph for one more try.
Did you ever dream you could fly?

My daughter forgot she was dreaming,
that was like her first fall into reality.
Did that once, in all of ever,
happen to you,
sudden knowing I cannot fly, aware in
that wake in fallen mode,
gentle…
no crash pain like falling
Icarus as watched by Dedalus, did you

experience any thing
like that?

That was genuine strange.
We must agree, it is an aspect of an oath
imagined in the long attention span
stretcher of truth, to cover
the tear.

See, there yoostabe a curtain between holy
and holiest,
most holy holy… accessible once in a solar cycle,

oh, the knowers knew.
How, I have no ideas I trust
to prove their story for me to lieve it be,
but some how
the knowers knew we are on a loop
around Sirius,
for some unfathomable reason, AI immediate
correction, the con-stellar dot to dot dog's
brightest point.
The star positions the Big Dog,
Sirius, thus the dog star name, okeh,
our star orbits that one, wanna bet?

What could your grandkids make of knowing
how to make fire,
or smelt steel with baked wood?

How long would it take to know anything else,
accidently, live and learn wise?

-- thought speed to my future, your now --

is man yet the measurer of all things?
AI don't think so, says the friendly universe,
in a word avatar invisible to naked eyes.

In the pious Ganga
Sadhu dips with expired notes;
Man jumps off the roof!

Blazing sun
Moderate winds
70-80% humidity
Cracked roads
Racked foot paths
Scattered waste
Rising smoke
Pile of bricks in corner

Group of 4 children
Not older than 10
Running and shouting
With all laughs and giggles
On behind another
Carrying a white sack

Crossed the drenched children
In white shirt and blue pant
Soaked in sweat
Like they are carrying the world
On their back

one of the child
In check grey shirt
Looked at them
As he moved across
In back seat of benz
With ice-cream in one of the hand

18-20 year looking  guy
Smoking ciggerate at one end
With eyes Hooked to moving benz
Surrounded with his gang

As the aunty from across
Drying her dress
Mumbling,ahhh
What a cheap ***

Mason passing by her house
carrying
Basket on his head
And shouting
To mark his presence

A girl wearing heals
With a mid thigh and deep neck dress
Crosses a pool of water and mud
Worrying about all the effort
She made to look her best

Every man on road
Eyes struck to her pose
Thinking what a *****
Can’t she wear some more

A group of 4 may be 6
In mid 40’s to 50’s
Sipping their tea
While judging every thing they see
Discussing how its better &
How its worse ,for sharma’s son
Ignoring their own worse

Bells ringing
Azan singing
Ik Onkar ecoing
Horns honking
Dogs barking
People shouting
Life’s running

A sadhu sits aside
And Ignites
Now With glassy eyes
Grasped all this mundane life
Mumble’s these miserable lives
Om shanti Om shanti Om shanti!!

A guy, on top
Watching this all
And gasps
Wow
What a crazy life

And writer’s write
Welcome to street, Called
LIFE!!!