Six-armed things of Asiatic trances,
temple belles entwined in temple dances:
mantra in one hand, the other holds naan.
One holding chutney and the other, paan.
Two hands left (befitting of deity):
one offers curry, one incense.  Aseity
signifies self-contented wonderment.
(One wonders as well what that mantra meant...)

Note the third eye in the figure's forehead:
a spare one in case left or right go dead?
But really—how freakish these idols look:
a ******-pantheon from a nightmare book.
(Outdone only by the Aztecs for fright
along with demons born of tribal night.)

Cobra-crowned elephant-headed mutants
sickly-sweet incense, divine pollutants
mix in with the stench of bodies burning
alongside the filthy Ganges churning
flowing with ashes from funeral ghats
excrement, corpses of humans and rats
that swarmed humble hovels of Hindustan
where gods are mass-produced for fallen man.

Maidens in saris with red tinted lips;
glossy vulgarity, loose at the hips
now growing more arms; an insect vision
enough to make one gag on religion.
The ubiquitous trident looms, a sign:
the eternally present un-divine.
Instead, it ought to stick some sacred cow
in its bovine buttocks, and so allow
beef curry for a hungry avatar
craving fresh meat in his juggernaut car.

Turn from this antediluvian scene
in sincerity, ask: what does it mean?
Were you created in these gods' image?
Is anything real behind their visage?
Blue skin and sick smiles, anointed with ghee:
exotic... but wrong theologically.
Till lingams are yonis I'll spell it out;
these Aryan idols should merit your doubt.
Such weirdness deserves some analysis
(as did old Diana of Ephesus).

Would you tingle if such a god showed up
and offered to refill your soma cup,
sending siddhis up your spinal column
with you in full lotus, clueless, solemn.
Would you offer puja in their temple,
bedeck your soul in a robe to sample
veggie-masalas, chapatis and dal,
peruse the Upanishads, and enthrall
your mind with the mystic old Rig-Vedas
fall for idolatrous sin conveyed
as spiritual truth when it's just a big lie...
bow before a multi-armed freak?  Not I.
Not for all the visions in Satan's world.
Better to call B.S. than to be hurled
to hell for living and loving this lie
embracing monstrosities. By and by
the books will be opened. The Lord will judge.
Consider this your transcendental nudge
toward something less false, less fearfully fake
than the idols Antichrist nations make.

The story of you is a picture to my ears
of you being a bit of a pup,
wearing headphones to mass,
driving the same priest mad
who later showed you how to play a bodhran in an empty church.

Imagine the happening of it
of you, standing in an empty field
looking at a well, wondering hard
how the water got to be there
or your eyes circling wider
in memory of seeing
and touching girls yonis for the first time
                              
you'd say “Ah Mam,
I don't want to go to Greaney's for shoes”
was Mr Greaney's dark and cold
with shelves packed thick with damp boxes,
white labels marking styles and sizes,
N for navy, B for brown, brogues, sensible,
that would have all the boys in school laughin at ya,
your ma pressin ******* the toes
to make sure you've a bit of room to grow into?

you talked to me late at night,
of young ones and of passing the seed.

Down
     Down Diagonal
                 Down
We go--
passing depths of rabbit holes
& looking glasses
into the     c  r  a  c  k  s    of our own          
              ((((souls))))
where we've built
            {{{[[DAMS]]}}}
that stopped and stuffed
the F           o
            L              W.

Down
     Down Diagonal
                 Down
We go--
to watch
               ))))undulating((((( rings ))))
of wood form yonis
while liquid tapestries                reach    out      to us
blinking their (o)eye(o) puzzle picture patterns
                             <^>
                               +
as we dance in a cosmic trinity  
sticking cosmic key post-its with doodles and words
on     doorknobs     and    shimmering    ///iridescent walls.\\

Down
     Down Diagonal
                 Down
We go--
in-out-side our minds     g r a y     r/o/a/d/s
skipping down fractaling water crystal      s\t\r\ee\t\s
under cover of night
in a dream as the trees vibrate in frigid winds
tickling the  stained glass fuchsia vermillion navy skies.

No one will deny the human race began w/ a poet & a naked girl---
the only question remaining:
was it a little girl whom the poet
found i his walk through the garden---
or was the poet a little boy whom
the goddesses taught to speak & made him her lover---
Was it Greek Aphrodite & Roman Adonis on the Lebanese riverbank, first & all over again---
or was it a young woman
who found the much older man
sleeping & awakened him like Psyche awoke Cupid, the gay flirt fleeing,
or Hermes moving in; the fastest lover
on fleet feet w/ a ready lingham,
we call stone yonis goddesses & add ****,
a clean-shaven ***** & fat ***;
****** overrated I've always thought
it a bit gross but I do it anyway & always want to---
so was the poet a little boy & the little girl his sister;
where were their parents if there related at all---
the poet & the naked girl
could have been one in the same
unless she hopefully was a Denisovan,
in which case there would be thousands
of silent or screaming young girls
(& Neanderthal poets, who couldn't speak)
passing their crude written signs onto Cro-Magnons youth I wonder still---

Cardiovascular Skin & Dark Blue Blood;
Pre-War War's Future Story,                                         The Future of Things;
The Darkness of the Dog's Beautiful Girl
Breaks hearts,                                                          ­     ****, the sea freezes;
True example of Christian sky power,                          yellow Parachka sky;
Bad Money,                                                           ­  Moon Night's latrine soil,
food morning problem,                                           the little North American
governess' beauty Facebook's French Lost
Years, wife of Zor mind's spirit acid survived
school history of *** in Kenya google Yonis;
York Rooney, Queen of Poetry.                                                         The age
of the young man is a full-fledged real picture
of large numbers of Anima shadows rebellious
state's human son Robert; the story of the day
song singing dead wall wind mood,
who is called, friend, nature of hell, ancient brown,                       Yoni's ****
of open stone, Italian park,                                        read the girl's pink span
of truth, side churches of Europe,                                               the mountain, cycle,                               Christ,  color of the happy goddess' city ​​of science,
science, technology, science, science, technology,
science, science, science, science, science,                                        science,
science, science, science, science, science,                                        science,
science, science, science, science, science, Healthy
                                                    Lifting Heaven's Zone modern day,                                              brainwashing family life, Natural necklace care;                                                            ­           Today is the general portal
of countless fish & animals by the Greek Stella's
pink window of the audience temple of the autumn
of Ireland walks in first Half-deep silver table style
Initial Games;         Some of them include the gods and,                                                             ­                                Understanding
the trees of the soul;                                   The Spanish poet of Einstein faces
a clean and brilliant section;                                      The cats of the big sister
ship have learned that the poles do not like sound.
In the beginning of the night,                                        the music of the night,
the lips of the *******,                             Maggie speaks in the sacred feast
                                                                ­                                     of barbarians.
          Gay rolling machine's Marine marijuana dog
removes the teeth of the paradise from the paradise
of                                                    The paradigmatic movement of paradise
has changed the movement of the acidic socks,                                alkaloid
parents, broken vertical countries,           beginning of the pregnant woman, Saddam the Gypsy,                                                         had A long time ago
in the West African Mask Field.                                     A burning billowing
                                                               painting barred the twelve mediums
                                                       of the Indian hills making the mark good,
giving Marcus shadows,                 feeling inside her positively rooted roots,
                        Bettie & Ivan's place wanted strippers torn by blonde *****...