"veda" poems
The plums tasted
sweet to the unlettered desert-tribe girl-
but what manners! To chew into each! She was ungainly,
low-caste, ill mannered and *****
but the god took the
fruit she'd been *******
Why? She'd knew how to love.
She might not distinguish
splendor from filth
but she'd tasted the nectar of passion.
Might not know any Veda,
but a chariot swept her away-
now she frolics in heaven, ecstatically bound
to her god.
The Lord of Fallen Fools, says Mira,
will save anyone
who can practice rapture like that-
I myself in a previous birth
was a cowherding girl
at Gokul.
2.9k
Seated beside you in a bicycle rickshaw,
eventide of your last New Delhi day
gathering itself all around us.
Silk from my sari encircles my head,
shoulders warmed by a winter shawl.
Your heavy beige mantle and dhoti,
frame a man as tall as a tree, at least to me.
There is no need for words.
I may have been singing a bhajan to you,
just quietly, as shop lights came on
in the deepening blue.
Perfection finds us in the briefest of moments.
Wherever you are now, timelessness
governs friendships formed
in the Land of the Veda.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 2:32 PM UTC
*"You are Beer-sheva, the garden of the seven lights, and I desire to dwell in you forever." Your lips recite sparks of light clothed in mystical words, your body is an esoteric tent, and the wise meet to observe you. Your golden skin, a scroll where the angels write the desires and the care of the heavens.Your beautiful ******* are divine sphinxes that hide the honey of Wisdom.Who will be worthy of you to feed? On what lips will you distil the sweet and sublime honey that flow That I may be worthy to drink of your honey, and that my mouth have merit to prove the waters of your fountain, for you are the Shrine of the Divine, the dwelling place of the Holy Presence in this world.You are Beer-sheva, The garden of seven lights and I eternally desire to dwell in you. " Sipra Shefatai Tevuna (Lips of Sublime Understanding)*
Deepak Sankara Veda
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 7:31 AM UTC
2020 Vision.
There’s no flying cars
We’re not living under the sea
Mars is still unsettled
Mail is not sent by rockets
But in 2020 all apples have faces now.
Apes have not evolved to work for us
Aliens have not made contact
We still have ten toes
We can not yet breathe under water
But in 2020 we sing songs instead of talking
There is still hunger
There is still war
We can’t yet teleport to a holiday destination
Or read each other’s minds
But in 2020 dorkiness got into the water supply.
Hibernation became an art form
Hermits live in communes
Elle Kay and Veda were never strangers again.
Jan 1, 2020
Jan 1, 2020 at 12:22 PM UTC
"What could be more beautiful than your lips? Reciting the esoteric poetry of the Garden of Eden, the sacred prayers that the angels sing in heaven and noted the souls of the Scribes of the Heavenly Academy? I love the beauty of your mouth and the wiggle of your lips, the Gates of Paradise, reciting the Holy Qabalah of God. your mouth is the Tara'a of Gate of the Palace of Love".
Esotérika II - The Mystical Poetry Of The Awekening by Deepak Sankara Veda
Tara'a: Aramaic Zoharic "Sentinel" - Creature of Light that guard the entrances to the Castle of Heaven.
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 9:38 AM UTC
"Impregnate my thoughts with memories of your beauty. I find myself watching the contours your beautiful lips, for me, the Gates of Palece of Love. I take desirous of you to open your mouth and I will hear your whispers, light sparks flying through your lips revealing to me the Wisdom of Heavenly Academy. Angels are your kisses and my lips wish the angelic creatures that blow yours, the sacred fiery letters emerging from the splendor of your soul".
Esotérika II - The Wake Of Mystical Poetry Deepak Sankara Veda
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
*Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ...
I hear the most croaking frogs and even the sound of crickets filled the night with their songs. Rooster was. His voice was quiet for forty-two years. The only sound now is the voice synthesis of old hardware, metal head that red-eye placed on top of the old marble counter.
- Sir Water? - She asks - The radiation level is low today - finished. The same song sung once a week. The voices? They were silent. Demons are silent now.
Ahh! I wanted to hear the voice of the old rabbi, that white-bearded long peyos when he said to pay attention to the little voices, the voices of the humble, enlightened wanderers, sparks of mystical alphabet, warning humanity that the day would come when voices calariam.
There inside, the demons remain silent. Their voices were silenced by the voice of evil that planted residence in the left chamber of the heart of man the temple.
The ghetto is cold today. People gather around the fire lit inside the old barrel of oil, black blood, called him. It no longer exists. The veins are dry and the blood no longer runs more ...
The white spots covering skin. It should be a good sign, but it is not. Leprosy went devouring the souls of men, women and children. Neither the animals escaped. Contaminated are exiled. They send them to the valley of oblivion where the voice never will rise. They used maliciously. They slandered her. His calumnies were launched in the wind like the leaves of the old oak tree that stood in chaiim forest. He also stopped. The wind no longer howls more through its leafy branches.
Ahh! Where is the voice of the rabbi? He was dead by religious dogmatists. His bright sparks no longer crackle through the air. Even the demons no longer speak. They shut up inside.
Where are the voices of poems and poets? It is also silent. They were causing itching ears of humanity. They accused: - the mighty were the leaders of nations, with their palaces decorated with blood. Blood of the innocent. They made them shut. They caused itches to power the ears.
The gleam in his eyes blinded. It was in 2029 detonated the old Russian gun exchanged for a piece of bread to feed the starving children. All of them died with nuclear heat.
Silence! The voices stopped. The only sound I hear is the wind howling over the stones, the ancient building ruins, heaps ravaged by time punishes them as an invisible whip. Even the demons are silent now ...
Ah! Where is the voice of the old rabbi? I wanted to hear it now. She stopped. Even there inside there is silence now, even the demons whisper more ...*
By Deepak Sankara Veda (Misha'Ël Ha'Levi) Mystik Poet
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 7:20 PM UTC
*“Removes the veil. Reveal to me the beauty of your beautiful ******* and your excited ******* filled with the desire to be caressed my lips. They are your secrets, your jewelry and your mystical treasures. Lifts the veil. Reveal to me your tree of knowledge, the entrance of your garden and allow me spoon with my tongue drops of Tal, your divine dew that drips from the leaves of your fig tree. Let me penetrate your garden, the orchard of celestial secrets with the stick of my miracles and feed me of Edenic sources of your ******* Lift up your veil and show me the beauty of your naked body and let me read the esoteric inscriptions on your golden skin, they are manifestations of your tattoos recorded in your soul, the light of mystic hieroglyphics of your spirit. Lifts the veil. Reveal to me the mystery of your mysteries giving me the wine of your vine and distills that drips from your sphinx. Removes the veil and reveal to me the entrance to the ethereal worlds of your soul, the portal to the world of emanation of your wonderful kisses, the sea of your ******* on which my ship sails. Remove my veil, a curtain on my conscience and catapult it into the world of creation, the high land of your ******* which trickle milk and honey. Removes the veil …" .*
Light Walker - Deepak Sankara Veda - Mystik Poet
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 4:55 PM UTC
Por qué caminos del alba
Andas descubriendo el cielo
Ese, prometido a unos
Los que sufrimos, creemos
Y le pedimos a Dios
Ir a bruñir sus luceros
Porqué sendas, asombrada,
Ya vas encontrando el cielo,
Mientras aquí las banderas
Y pueblos, están de duelo.
Porque te fuiste, tan pronto
Precipitando el invierno
Cuando aun, lleno de flores,
Se desgranaba febrero
Yucas y conquistadores
Te irán formando cortejo;
Pizarro barbado y noble
-Bronce, plata, encaje, acero-
Con una ciudad de Torres
Entre sus brazos sin huesos.
Y una muchedumbre oscura
Que va detrás de Atahualpa
Te sigue cantando himnos
En lengua quechua y aymara
Ya estás, Gabriela, en la gloria,
Mitad de princesa incaica,
Mitad de reina española,
Como Isabel, la magnánima.
Ya sé que no has de escribir
A nadie mas en la tierra,
Que oficinas de correo
A la eternidad se veda
¡Pero es tan dulce que sepas
Gabriela, que toda América
Por ti está tan conmovida
Como tu patria chilena...!
El cielo junto al copihue
La orquídea venezolana
Se une a la victoria-regia
Del Brasil, y en la sabana
De Colombia, los gomeros
Detienen su savia trágica.
¡Toda la flora de América
Quiere mirarte la cara!
Asómate entre las nubes
Una tarde arrebolada;
Muéstranos tu frente ancha
De madre tan bien amada,
¡Déjanos poquito a poco,
Del todo no te nos vayas!
Aquí ha quedado tu verso,
Tu palabra estructurada
Con lo mejor del idioma
Y lo mejor de tu alma.
Pero nos falta tu rostro
Con la sonrisa cansada,
Que a todos nos descansaba
Cuando nos daba en los ojos.
Oye, Gabriela, las voces
Desde tu «bosque perfecto»
Damos la señal que diga
Que llega a ti nuestro acento,
Y repasa, tu que tanto
Sobre la tierra anduviste,
¡Reposa y se haga radiante
Su risa aquella, tan triste!
Descubre el cielo y descansa,
Pero, Gabriela ¡no olvides!
834
The only store miles away
I'm wounded dragging myself
The man invited me in, asking if I knew his language
"Merhaba, burada yeni?" He asks
And I said "yes Im traveling far away from home"
He gives me bandages and pain killers
"İyi iyi şanslar genç adam ve veda"
He gave me twenty dollars and 2 bottles of water for the long road ahead
I went out to start back on my travels
I never said thank you but I think he got the message
Never meet people like this everyday
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
tu da ve za sivi
va du vi za vada zo
veda ga va caduza
nevaga za du vo
badeva bada debu
yana ba va gada ze
remana ga redava
mada ga de bada ve
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 3:31 PM UTC
¡Ah, Miss X, Miss X: 20 años!
Blusas en las ventanas,
los peluqueros
lloran sin tu melena
-fuego rubio cortado-.
¡Ah, Miss X, Miss X sin sombrero,
alba sin colorete,
sola,
tan libre,
tú,
en el viento!
No llevabas pendientes.
Las modistas, de blanco, en los balcones,
perdidas por el cielo.
-¡A ver!
¡Al fin!
¿Qué?
¡No!
Sólo era un pájaro,
no tú,
Miss X niña.
El barman, ¡oh, qué triste!
(Cerveza.
Limonada.
Whisky.
Cocktail de ginebra.)
Ha pintado de ***** las botellas.
Y las banderas,
alegrías del bar,
de ***** a media asta.
¡Y el cielo sin girar tu radiograma!
Treinta barcos,
cuarenta hidroaviones
y un velero cargado de naranjas,
gritando por el mar y por las nubes.
Nada.
¡Ah, Miss X! ¿Adónde?
S. M. el Rey de tu país no come.
No duerme el Rey.
Fuma.
Se muere por la costa en automóvil.
Ministerios,
Bancos del oro,
Consulados,
Casinos,
Tiendas,
Parques,
cerrados.
Y, mientras, tú, en el viento
-¿te aprietan los zapatos?-,
Miss X, de los mares
-di, ¿te lastima el aire?-.
¡Ah, Miss X, Miss X, qué fastidio!
Bostezo.
Adiós...
Good bye...
(Ya nadie piensa en ti. Las mariposas
de acero,
con las alas tronchadas,
incendiando los aires,
fijas sobre las dalias
movibles de los vientos.
Sol electrocutado.
Luna carbonizada.
Temor al oso blanco del invierno.
Veda.
Prohibida la caza
marítima, celeste,
por orden del Gobierno.
Ya nadie piensa en ti, Miss X niña.)
767
the sound image of a tree
a word of mouth it cannot be
nor can a pecker of wood see
but in our mind's eye we recite
the four veda's of creation
absent is your breath when fires ignite
in nourishment of a flowing imagination
for this is what the tree had said
on a rooted bed the boy sits being fed
the ability to recite a word
to thee in mind without speech
speaks of one sound image
to see and hear one's own phenomena
because rather than the physical sound
the tree recite's the word tree to thy self.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
*Your mouth is the Tara'a (תרעא), the Sentinel of Hall of the Mysteries and your lips are the Gate of the Palace of Love Palace, the chamber where they live all poetry.
Your kisses are consent to allow me to come in and read all the poems that God has written in your skin.
Your body is the temple of the Divine and I love contemplate you naked without veils that hide your attributes, the mysteries of your sensuality.
When, to my eyes see you naked , God is revealed in your nakedness and the heavens unveil all the mysteries, singing through your mouth, the Seraphim mystical songs loaded secrets of the Garden of Eden “*
Esotérika - The Mystic ****** Poetry Deepak Sankara Veda
Note: Tara'a (התרע'א) is a Aramaic term meaning "Opening - The passage from this world to the world of Heavenly Palaces (היכלות)”.
2) - The Watchtower (luminous creature) that guards the entrance to the Celestial Palace.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 6:39 PM UTC
Deviant daughter,
I’d give it all and more
To have you knocking at my door
Satin drapes, silver knifes
A furnished mansion to
Start our lives anew
Oh, my darling,
I’d even **** for you
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 10:07 AM UTC
“Blowing on you my poems, the fiery breezes my Awakening, enflame you to burn me later in your flames, with your fire and your elightnent”.
Esotérika - The Mystic ****** Poetry by Deepak Sankara Veda
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 6:37 PM UTC
*“And there were no Angels that someday the sparks were not your thoughts, nor Angelic coaches that have not been created by your whispers, and the Comets who now behold the heavens were one night, the wonderful your kisses”.
By Light Walker - Deepak Sankara Veda - Mystik Poet for Esoterika - The Mystic ****** Poetry
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
*"Fires in my soul the burning breeze that blows your lips. Your mouth is the creator of fiery angels, heavenly creatures made with the fire of your kisses, Serafim of prophecy whispering in my mind the codices of your moans, the secrets that God has written in your body. Your golden skin and a living scroll, papyrus noted the Angel of face.
Fires in my soul the burning breeze that blows your lips. I love your kisses, luminescent flowers in my Awakening desert".*
Esotérika - The Mystic ****** Poetry by Deepak Sankara Veda
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 6:42 PM UTC
*“Put your finger in your orchard within your secret garden and dance for me your esoteric dance, the revelations of your wisdom while doing drain the sap from your tree of life, the elixir that expands my consciousness, prolongs my life. Distills it into my mouth while sitting on my lips and gives me to drink your water of life. I wish you drink, feed me with the light of your ******* creators of miracles”.*
Light Walker - Deepak Sankara Veda - Mystik & Esoteric Poet for Esoterika - The Mystic ****** Poetry
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 9:51 AM UTC
"“I hear the voices of endless angels, when my eyes behold the beauty and sensuality of your wonderful lips. Your mouth tells me the ancient esoteric wisdom of the heavenly Academy and the ascended masters speak to me”.
By Light Walker - Deepak Sankara Veda - Mystik Poet for Esoterika (Book) - The Mystic ****** Poetry
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 9:58 AM UTC
I do not create your poetry. I read the Angels that your mouth creates, the Seraphim that emerge from your beautiful lips and who ride in Merkavah of your whispers in the Divine Chariot of your moans, the delight of my Awakening. Your body is the Sacred Field, seeded with bright grains that bloom bright Lotus. A stellar river flows from your esoteric garden and watering the shine of my soul. I’m Awake, and it was the angelic poetry that prophesied your beautiful lips that aroused me. I am your Buddha now, the Bodsattva of your wisdom, the guardian of codices whispering your mouth.
Esotérika - The Mystic ****** Poetry by Deepak Sankara Veda
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 6:34 PM UTC
*I wish the revelation of your sacred sensuality, the sacredness of your magnificently body, the codices written in your skin. I wish the poetry of your lips on mine and the songs of your ******* in my mouth. I wish the wine distilling your vine and sweet liquor that drips from your mystical fig. My mouth want the fruits of your esoteric garden and my Escalibur want to put down at the entrance of your cave on the rock of your altar. You are my Holly Grail…“*
Esotérika - The Mystic ****** Poetry by Deepak Sankara Veda
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 6:29 PM UTC
*"Honey drips from your beautiful lips, words enshrined in pure sweetness. Your whispers are combs and your ******* distill nectar of the heavenly mysteries, the Divine puzzles are the songs that emerge from your mouth. I love your moans, sphinxes who prophesy to their language, the language of the secrets of your soul is the angelic song, the Codex that your kisses wrote in my spirit; your Sapphire stone".*
Esoterika - The Mystic ****** Poetry of Deepak Sankara Veda
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 4:50 PM UTC
i come from the veda
and im going back.
my family tree is a skeleton.
the truth is in these bones.
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC