Dignity

Who cannot first acknowledge and respect with dignity and awareness
his/her own person, own ethnic roots or national sovereign identity,
cannot be qualified to honestly respect the same in any other –
but only dishonestly.

This holds true between individuals, and between communities,
between societies with respective national origins.

What we have now is not "overweening nationalism" as the problem –
but a fake "appreciation" of the other (who remains the other,
no matter how the hyper-racists of the Regressive-Left color it).

Hyper-racism is what one has when shrill "anti-racism" betrays
a bludgeoning dictatorship of ethno-masochism woven
into the minds of a nation. It’s fabric is self-demonization,
and is spun with most unkind hypocrisy.

No dignity left, no respect – only the twisted macabre parody of both,
criminalising free speech and holding language hostage to a
cultural Marxism.

Dignity comes from oneself, respect is its aroma.
Real being with others, and mutually sovereign interaction,
are the proving ground.

You cannot "love thy neighbour as thyself" when you loathe "thyself".
Forcing destabilisation of a continent of nations of multiple cultures
and one binding identity, via an artificial mass population switch
cobbled by neurotic sociopaths and a politically correct media elite –
exposes its own lie as "harbinger" of multi-culti "harmony".
It betrays a sado-maso cult of dominating totalitarian proportions,
long in the making and ever closer to realisation.

Being trained to focus outwardly and lose the inner compass,
one is too manipulated to think, to question this,
too cowed by its immense propaganda to confront it openly –
and evidently too indoctrinated to see through it to begin with.
Maybe.

Maybe the human will to own dignity and self-respect
and sovereignty of person may reawaken yet.
For no persons are "special" – and every Human Being
is divine in origin – conscious or not.

A Woman Unto Herself

You are all-goddess – in your very Humanness,

your own form, I see only goddess and nought else.

I see myself offering puja to her, this very goddess,

thereupon she is receiving me into her –

homage paid in the kiss,

in the armpits, the nipples, the belly,

then my face deep in this Yoni – long and slow,

controlled, disciplined, concentrated,

till she gives the signal to be entered.

You are still you, to be admired and appreciated,

ideosyncrasies synchronized mutually

in serendipitous symphony.

Not a personal fixation, and yet,

not the least bit indifferent to your person,

every hidden and open fibre of your unique embodiment

of what is drunkenly divine and manifestly set

in the eternal ecstasy of each moment's expression

of Union.

Not sharing a need but joining in mutual worship,

a statement of fulfilled desire.

Give With Your Eyes

Give with your eyes and veil not thy face!

Reach down into the depth of you, find what is real.

You are divine learning to be Human, search there

in the heart of you, the warmth so rich, go into

that expansive sun, give yourself into it.

Give with your eyes.

Then, when you meet another, any other, really any –

immersed now in the sovereign firmness of inner Firmament,

healed free of the sickness of self-doubt, of conceit, of envy,

of self-pity, of pessimism, of dulled boredom, of thoughtlessness,

of shame and of guilt, of hopes and of fears:

look at that other – and give with your eyes.

There is no sentimental-sympathy of helper-syndrome here,

helpers have issues, they do not give with their eyes, they take.

Dis-ease is what comes with dividing and conquering others.

You however, regard your entire body-form as whole, a unity –

thus you are in health, and where it hurts you embrace and include

into the fold, and you do so without a story, you give with your eyes.

Bathing in the rolling stream you visit within you,

and drinking from the well of everlasting Life as you breathe,

letting the joy of Being take hold of your limbs walking bold and loose,

feeling your moods, being glad, being angry, growing in empathy,

being yourself trusting yourself, learning faith, neither coming nor going:

just give with your eyes.

In one steady gaze, neither invasive nor intrusive,

neither coy nor shy, without games or power issues,

looking with discrimination without actually judging,

willingly seeing if there's something that wants seeing,

and letting the love which has been born in you and by you

come forth: give with your eyes, give with your eyes!

 

 

 

Some prayers of mine...

May all women everywhere find and assert
their inborn sovereign dignity and power.

May all women everywhere find and assert
their inborn sovereign confidence and grace.
Amen, so be it.

May the living spirit of of The Divine Mother be with all children
everywhere at all times.

May Her lovingkindness and intercession prevail mightily on behalf

of their well-Being, in all situations on all levels.
May all children be well, may all children be happy.

Peace, peace, peace

May this prayer be extended and applied with all power and grace

to the entire Animal Kingdom, that all of Nature's creatures great and small

be blessed and sustained, shielded and protected, cherished,
healed and restored through this prayer;

that all of Nature's creatures, as with all children the world over,

be delivered from the hands of human cruelty into the hands

of human compassion and lovingkindness.
May all of Nature's creatures be well, may all of Nature's creatures be happy.
Peace, peace, peace.

Being Human

 (According to a report ... the Prophet ... said: “The Day of Judgement will not begin until the Muslims fight the Jews and kill them. A Jew will hide behind a rock or a tree, and the rock or tree will say, ‘O Muslim, O slave of Allah! There is a Jew behind me, come and kill him!’ – except for the gharqad (box thorn), for it is one of the trees of the Jews.”)
(Compare with quite another Message:  "...And he answered and said unto them, I tell you that, if these (singing 'Hosannah') should hold their piece, the stones would immediately cry out."  Lk. 19:40)

If this Jew be an ape, then let me be an Orangutan,

as they are closer to being Human than what we see

passing for God's-own-choice in the form of Islam,

slaughtering and dominating, planning a reach from sea to sea!

Or let me be Hanuman, with Ram's Name in my mouth,

swinging through the demon stronghold, tail afire and with mace

in hand, serving my Lord and the soul of Woman, His Spouse –

striking dead the demon grip which tightens on the Human race!

If this Christian be a pig, then let us all be swine,

for this beloved creature is from God and intelligent –

the blood of innocents let Islam drink, we have another wine,

and far better – bonding us in Love, since the First Advent!

If women be low then let me be low, and if gays be forbidden

let me be that with them; if a single animal's slandered then I;

if "behind every rock or tree a sought Jew be hidden"

I'll remember that “every rock and stone praises God“ and cry

Loudly to the winds that it be carried to all corners:

"Wake up wake up!" find your Divine and praise that,

stand for what is yours, in your own land you're the foreigner;

resist – or else lose your multi-culture – through Islamic fiat.

These loathing all Nature, let them feel the Lion rising in me all the more,

in tireless resistance toward their intentions to crush and dominate

our very souls – not only culture and politic – I will Singh and I will roar,

stand firm in conscious Faith and leave nothing to uncertain fate.

Sometimes I Drink Water

Sometimes I drink water from a brook, a stream,
sometimes I drink from a river, a fresh pond or a lake,
sometimes I may drink from the sweetwaters of an ocean -
after all, it's just a notion.

So it is with religion(s), as water is for all its variation, one:
religion is one, and truth is one.
Where you draw your water from is your own concern, not mine -
if it makes of you a lover, then alone is it divine.

Best expressed through Sufism, accepting all, all waters -
this is no sales pitch, dear Friend, merely a fact -
Sufism is not the "mystical side of Islam" as you've read,
Islam has none, Sufism has covered for that, let it be said:

Of others, they do indeed, for Jews the Kabbala and Zohar,
Christians a long tradition of it, Hindus and Buddhists needn't
bother, theirs are overflowing with the inner Teaching!
Without the waters of Sufism, Islam is so much dead preaching.

And Jesus Spat

(Jn. 9: 1-7)

Who has no self but in God, carries no thought
but the Divine impression unbroken, unprocessed;
comes or goes as the wind, you can't say whence or whither:
Friends, let that one spit!

You who have been blind since birth,
if one comes whose very breath is Healing,
and mingles that spit with the earth of the ground,
rubbing that over your eyes: Friends, let it be done!

The waters of that mouth are prasad indeed,
as is the Word issuing forth therefrom;
let that Stranger come, welcome those hands
which might rest thereon where the pain is!

This one knows where, better than you,
and sees whole and gives whole, rendering whole.
The embrace of one lost in God carries no price tag,
all your wealth could never acquire it -




an attitude of gratitude however is like a magnet,
that is the best of coin here, and innocent trust.
Be like that tenth leper, not the nine,
be like that Samaritan who shouldn't have known better, but did:

give thanks where it is due, return to that hermit in the woods
or the mechanic in his shop – wherever that one hangs out, go!
and render thanks for that spit or that hand or that embrace.
Prasad is best received, like the Eucharist, with humble thanks.

I Meet Her Gaze

Wednesday morning,
the March snow from yesterday
is melting, I have off.
It is well past 5 a.m.,
I do not have early shift,
no bus no car no leaving.
I have not fed the "kids",
yet they are at peace;
the tomcat snores over my left ankle,
looks up, I meet his gaze,
he snuggles in and sleeps.
The cautious temple-kitty sits on the floor
to my right and gazes up at me,
I meet her gaze and make room for her,
she springs to my right thigh,
stretches long and snuggles close.
On my left, my beloved turns toward me
and holds me to her,
I lay on my back, receiving, receiving.
I have not risen to make Puja.
Finances are a shambles,
who is left that I do not owe -
the wolves are at my neck,
we own little, undertake nothing,
what shall we make for breakfast.
Yesterday I share with her Trungpa's statement:
that "the bad news is that we are
in free-fall, with nothing to hold on to, and no parachute;
the good news being, that there is no ground."
She finds this discomfiting,
I explain that it speaks to the impermanence
of anything, of everything.
That we are idiots – and precious, divine, and in God's hands.
That in the bardos we perceive this more distinctly than now -
although the "after-death" is simultaneously moving
in every moment of our life; the bardos are now and with us.
She gazes at me and says: that one thing is permanent, her love for me.
I meet her gaze. Nodding.
It is now 8 a.m., my heart soars like a hawk.
It is a good day to die.
And to be reborn.
I rise to feed the "kids".

A Different Kind of Lover

(Boulder, 1974)

Becoming Govinda's flute
hollow receptive
of the breath
of God
that Divine expression
may ever flow like the blue river
by which sixteen thousand
Gopi maidens made love
with their hearts' desire . . .
To become a different kind of lover
sowing wild oats of a different nature,
the seeds of inner awakening:
that the world may become pregnant
with the Divine intoxication;
until which moment
the well-being of the beloved
is the lover's only task.