don’t kill the pain

The rapture of another day. I woke up in love with me. This romance with myself has been such a stormy love affair. Good thing you’re there to keep me guessing. How will I love myself better today? Sometimes sharp and sometimes soft the love is all pervading. The kisses are everywhere and I feel the touch of summers hand upon my heart. If only I could love you more, and it’s me. Can’t you see? The hurt isn’t anywhere but in here. They can’t do anything on the outside if we aren’t already doing it on the inside. And no one can hold us back from ourselves. This romance with me pervades my life. How will I love my love -which is me? If you don’t know, just look at the world around you and it’s clear. My love, it’s all in here.

I’ve been in this hospital 10 days and I’m leaving today. It’s been a rough road and I let it enlighten me just a little bit more on what this all is-and what I’m doing- and why is this happening. I surrendered. I became one. I let it all seep in and I prayed day and night- and so many people love me -and I pulled through minus the knife.

The doctors said they were baffled by the X-rays, cat scans, and lab work and they told me they all gathered around the images and couldn’t match the images with the person because I was too healthy and alive to look like this and I should be in more agony. Fortunate for me these are actually good people here and let me work it out and they feel it was a mystery and a miracle and all they do is smile at me with twinkling eyes. I know they are the medicine Buddha. I know my nurse was Tara. Like, I know it’s true- and they answered my prayers.
The last hospital visit when I had surgery 2 years ago was the same. The doctor was very perplexed and disoriented and really didn’t know how to put it together. Because in truth, I’ve never actually been technically sick in the hospital. Just physical malfunctioning or something strange like that. In really weird and dramatic ways.

I have been made aware that it’s my body’s reaction to my encounters- and it’s a purging of astral forces- and when you put that perfectly together with me always running at full speed -and some stars influencing the turnout- I end up in the hospital to work out all the karmic sludge that I’ve collected. So I suppose it’s my destiny to learn in this way-and to die and be born again over and over.
I really didn’t know if I’d make it this time, it was so bad and so extreme. But I did make it – and I’m telling you this because throughout it all, it was my mind that I controlled, not my body. When I felt I was going to mentally just snap that second night when this woman shared a room with me and moaned and groaned at full volume all through the night (and only 2 feet from my bed) I thought I wouldn’t be able to mentally endure- so I grew stronger to survive. I found a way to not defend myself from her and I adapted and made peace with the reason I was next to her in the first place.

Is any of this real? Yes kind of. But no, not really.
Our mind makes it so. Our hearts make it happen.

And so it’s a romance and we’re always flirting with creation and destruction. I love you today because you’re pretty and good and I hate you tomorrow because your ugly and bad. That’s no way to find your heart. What I’m trying to tell you is that it’s so easy to stop hurting if you could just see that nobody is doing anything to you that you aren’t already doing to yourself.

We set these behaviors in motion and it’s a ride to the finish line. If you allow someone to abuse you, you must feel that you are worthy of it. There is a fine line between being compassionate and codependent. And if you’re wondering about how to tell the difference- Compassion makes both people better and stronger- codependency doesn’t. And we’re talking about genuine romance that starts right here in our own very hands.

The hardest thing it seems to do is just to actually love you as you stand- with no embellishments and no mirrors, no criteria and no proof of accomplishment. With no successful performance or output.

Just love for the sake of love because it’s a big pool and we’re in it and it’s really just all there is.
Open up and swim. Open up and float.

But don’t just drown imagining you aren’t even in the water. Of course you’re submerged in love but until you accept the invitation and start loving yourself with a vengeance, it won’t happen here, it won’t reach any others and no one will ever come to you and say, “I really love you” because it’s always going to be-you hand in hand. You picking up you. You hugging you. You kissing you. You making love to you in the deepest way known.

Self acceptance. I love you for better or for worse just the way that you are. Take the wedding vow with yourself and be with you for once.
It’s the heart calling you home from the deep.
It’s been so long and we’re all so tired of pretending.
I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root:
It is what you fear.
I do not fear it: I have been there.

Is it the sea you hear in me,
Its dissatisfactions?
Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness?

Love is a shadow.
How you lie and cry after it
Listen: these are its hooves: it has gone off, like a horse.

All night I shall gallop thus, impetuously,
Till your head is a stone, your pillow a little turf,
Echoing, echoing.

Or shall I bring you the sound of poisons?
This is rain now, this big hush.
And this is the fruit of it: tin-white, like arsenic.

I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets.
Scorched to the root
My red filaments burn and stand, a hand of wires.

Now I break up in pieces that fly about like clubs.
A wind of such violence
Will tolerate no bystanding: I must shriek.

The moon, also, is merciless: she would drag me
Cruelly, being barren.
Her radiance scathes me. Or perhaps I have caught her.

I let her go. I let her go
Diminished and flat, as after radical surgery.
How your bad dreams possess and endow me.

I am inhabited by a cry.
Nightly it flaps out
Looking, with its hooks, for something to love.

I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

Clouds pass and disperse.
Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?
Is it for such I agitate my heart?

I am incapable of more knowledge.
What is this, this face
So murderous in its strangle of branches?——

Its snaky acids hiss.
It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults
That kill, that kill, that kill.
Don’t kill the pain.
Love yourself.
Sharada Devi

I am your tears

Late last night an octopus caught my arm in a dream and he wanted me to move the other way. He had see through arms and black ink blotting eyes. Blotting me out, pulling me like a single ribbon under the clear pulsing waves of watery light- and I could still see the sky -but below the layer of this world, it didn’t matter anymore.

Nothing is what it seems.

And the octopus was transparent and I could see everything inside of him and me and how we were made-the same as each other -trails and tubes and shiny pearls of rain- encapsulating and throbbing the urgent beam of life. I had nothing to fear in his grasp.

He took me down straight to the bottom of the silver moonlit sea. At the bottom he left me sitting in the white and sifting sands. I looked up and saw bubbles with faces and butterflies with wings flapping inside the water as he disappeared.

I laid down on the sea floor crying. I surrendered to extinction. Everything looked like it would be just fine without me. And the strange and magical animals at the bottom- that we have never known -came and sat with me. They laid next to me. They petted me and listened to my crying heart. They called each other to gather  around me in a circle- and they all came- and they all sat or laid or swam around my little world of me, crying without you, at the bottom of the silver sea.

My eyes were open, staring, into this sea of tears -and I was remembering everything. Everything you ever said to me. Every time I loved you without a reason. Everytime I couldn’t. I remembered the way I had intended to love you and what I could have done to love you more. And I listened for a long time to the sound of my own heart beating and making peace with its isolation. Feeling the human  throb and filling the sea with her tears.

Overflowing, the silver moonlit sea of her tears. The waves of her watery body wash over us all.

And the animals waited and watched me closely as if they knew that something should happen soon -but I didn’t know, I was suspended in the collapse of intent with nothing left to do but surrender and recede.

“The dawn is almost here. Wait and see who you have become. Then you can go.” A soft voice whispered in the water.

I knew it it was up to me -and they knew it too. So they sang for me beneath the water -strange and hypnotic songs -and then when the 16 big white whales finally came the water started trembling and sparkling and the sand began spiraling into circles and divine patterns upon the sea floor where I lay.

Their songs aren’t a music that you would know. Their music lifts the water into the sky toward the throne of the moon- and that’s how the ocean never sinks too far into itself-and that’s why we’re able to cry in love and in pain, because of the 16 white whales that you’ve never even heard of.

At one point, The mother of the white whales turned her head toward me as she swam by and she had only one eye -and this eye was in the center of her forehead -and it was a shiny massive onyx -a dark looking glass filled with the waters of creation. And when I looked into her one eye I saw the stars and galaxies and there was no space or separation anywhere and I was as large and as white as she was- which was immeasurable- and I knew without any word or sound at all, that she held every secret. Every piece of every thing. Immortal. Eternal. Helix winding and unwinding perfectly. Swimming and soothing, secretly relieving us all.

“She keeps secrets, just like me” I thought.

Something inside changed with that knowing and I felt understood and less alone. And the music and tears  and the throb and the trembling became the celebration orchestra of my giving my life to her -and it was all of us, the animals too -and I was limp, left at the bottom of the sea staring up into the water with nowhere to go and I was breathing my own extinction.

Looking through the veil of sea water I thought, “I’m not sad. I’m not real. I’m not here. I love everyone.”

Then suddenly I was everywhere but nowhere to be found. And my mouth became a bottomless hole in an endless bubble. And my legs and arms became clear and supine. And my body started spiraling and trembling blissfully out the music that had sustained me and all the animals became ecstatic. I made it! I made it! I made it! The symphony beneath the sea was me. Me, the rapture of her secret. I understand your vision my mother of the sea, I really do.

I am your tears.

Then the octopus returned and we wrapped around one another never to be apart again. I understood now what it takes to listen and let go. I understood what it takes to be in his rapture by her tears alone. I understood what her tears are for and what they mean. I understood what it takes to love you.

I am your tears.


I know the pain is bad. I know you’re all afraid. So afraid, in fact, that you’re numb and looking in the wrong direction. But have no fear because I am here and I also live at the bottom of the silver sea where I wait for you to come.

Redemption is a single cause. Over and over again, an isolated occurrence between you and me and what you see. It’s all about what you see.
I know you think you see me now. We all think so. But I’m different without this body and without these words and so are you. I’m only an eye.
An eye that always watches and sees and knows the lack or abundance of her boundless, spaceless, silent, pointless, watery grace.

Like a cloud that never passes the same point twice. Like a wave that crashes and dies forever.
Crashing and dying differently every time for you. I’ll be here in the places you aren’t looking. I’ll be here singing in your ear. And you won’t see or hear or feel a thing until you’re ready.

Rest my beloved. I am your tears. Sharada Devi

[English Translation:]

You are a fox
You take off
into the air

In the air, yes
Into the air
In the air, yes

You glide, float, tolerate, suffer
Oh peace, war, unrest, discord
Oh no Oh no,
oh no Oh no
Oh no, oh no

A lost seafarer
Has returned home
A lost seafarer
Has returned home
A diver comes


Monolithic Me

I really mean it when I say, This isn’t about you and it never was.

My eyes are dark and hollow sockets in a dry and useless head. My pale, thin body carries me scraping the floors, day after day, night after night, mile after mile, loop after loop, through the grim hospital corridors.

I don’t want to talk about death and dying.
I want to talk about now and what you’ve got for me.

And thank you in advance for what I’m soon to take. And It won’t be romantic.

I’ve been praying trying to get over myself for over a week now in the hospital. Still the same prayers walking through the halls. Still the same thirsty and frail, monolithic me just making it through one more night in this sticky, hungry hell. The howling and moaning jackals watching and waiting for the curled up sick people with glowing tv’s and endless bloodstained tubes in their bodies. Every rooms a different flavored party for the night eaters.

Don’t be scared. It’s just us, with our sanctioned beginnings and endings and with no memory left at all. It’s a scary date night but don’t worry, we can offer some relief, there’s a new killer, better than the last in every drawer.

The truth is there is no relief with no memory.

We don’t remember that we’ve been here before in these corridors. And we’re not waiting for anything, we’re in it now. Nobody else is coming to fix the machine that keeps beeping. Your veins are bruised blue and dried up, the blood is gone, all sucked up for tests. The tests they do when you’re not looking.

Open your eyes and stop wandering down these hospital halls praying for someone else. Surrender. Fall to your bony knees and beg and grovel. Surrender to what is to come. So that  when the big hand strikes, you’ll come through with some common sense and decency. That’s all.

Because the bullet doesn’t stray. She doesn’t get it wrong. Yes it’s fair. You deserve what happens to you and so if I were you I would think again before you push delete or redo. Because it’s been done, you’ve been shuffled. She knows the card you will pick well in advance.
We didn’t come here to be beautiful light beings who pray for others. That attitude will get us sacked the hard way. We came here to BE others. To be in their shoes. To stop thinking they need our holy prayers as if we’re somebody- no- we came here to BE with them.

We are here to BE WITH OTHERS. In the same way that you sit near a large old tree for shade but the tree doesn’t know or care that you do. The tree isn’t thinking “I’m shading and comforting you” The tree is here with you. Truly here with you and giving effortlessly and spontaneously and honestly.

I do not think we can say the same.

A lot of layers are being stripped and we are in this bardo of intense suffering and we must pray and we must give. But until we have any idea of what that means I’m afraid the horse and pony show continues. Yes, I see what an elitist I am for no reason at all. Someone so special with nothing left to give. Two skinny wobbling legs shuffling through the wasted space of hurting lives- looking, appealing to the wreckage. But no one sees and no one saves. Don’t you get it?

And what’s been the point of it all? This life of leisure and complaining and justification? What’s the point of it dear friend? There isn’t one. We’re wasting time. We are selfish lost fools prancing around finding reasons to matter when in fact we do not.

Everyone has been so kind to me and the human heart is astounding. I’m saying that what lies beyond that simple gesture of truth is absolute nonsense -it’s just us doing whatever we can, as fast as we can do it -to wear our battery down. To come back and do it again, suffer suffer suffer die die die eat eat eat fuck fuck fuck complain complain complain lazy excuses lazy excuses lazy excuses DIE AGAIN. PERIOD.
Recycle. NEXT!

I have no advice for you. I feel love for you. I have no reason to feel love for you other than you are not apart from me and there is no me.
It’s a long walk down the wedding aisle. Have you even seen Her face? I doubt it. It’s a long night of moaning and groaning until the morning.

My throat is dry. My body is just floating. And I didn’t think of all the names of God when the lights were flashing in my eyes. I thought of us
and I remembered what we’d done and what we’d been through. I thought that we came here born in this heavy hell realm and we came with a heart that could be gold somehow.

I knew that the heroic willingness to do this, to be here suffering, praying in the hospital halls-
as off kilter as we have become -is the most sacred and divine offering of pure warmth.

It’s just the candle burning on both ends my sweetheart.

In our lives, to be so pathetic, so uselessly small and insignificant, and to struggle as we do and to survive covered- hiding these old scars -while protecting the freshly wounded parts- bound in painful memories while thrashed against these jarring truths- makes us kind of exquisite in our own self destructive madness.

What brought us back here, I don’t know. What keeps us going, it’s hard to say. What makes us keep burning for no reason at all other than to shine a dim light in a dark dark place. I don’t know. It’s Her plan. It’s Her Braveheart.
Warm and ready for action.

It’s the mercy of a great God and we should really get out of Her way. That’s what I’m noticing. She’s got more to say than we do. She needs bodies and these need to be strong bodies. Those who can stand the rupturing torments of in between and what it means to move between the three worlds.

Where we are now, where we were born and where will die. We are threading others through Her web for no other reason it seems -other than-it’s worth a try.

Because nobody knows how this human experiment will turn out- but She seems like a perfectionist to me and the training ground is vast- and She’ll do almost anything to make you a worthy vessel of Her display.

There isn’t another time to know Her. The time is now and believe me, she’s got Her list of names
and you are on it.

Gut wrenching. Heart clenching. Get it while you can. I’m still here. I’ll never leave you.

Sharada Devi


I’m in the hospital. I had to go to the emergency room because I couldn’t stand up because I was weak and dehydrated from days of vomiting.
It all happened suddenly and apparently it’s just a complication from the surgery I had and my bowel got twisted or something. I’m honest with you because I have nothing to hide. I’m on morphine for the pain and endless fluids being pumped in- of course my arms are all poked to death because they couldn’t find a vein- but that’s ok, I felt nothing at all. I’ve been poked so much, needles mean nothing to me. Everyone is so nice and I love the kindness of their well meaning hearts.

And I look around in this room and it’s the middle of the night and I’m all alone-and the clocks too loud and the machine next to me is irritating and I have this horrible tube that smells like plastic going up my nose and into my stomach to pump out all the green bile so I’ll stop throwing up. The doctor said I’m lucky I came because I was deathly dehydrated.

And I didn’t know what the problem was and maybe this time I will die. And I felt nothing. No fear. Only sadness for the sick people and only love for the plight of us all.

It’s just so funny how truly lost we are. Why can’t we see that nothing matters. There’s nothing to get and nobody out there. It’s us alone with our truth, whatever that is, and that’s it. I hope you’re comfortable there. I was thinking, ” I could die tonight” and I knew for sure, that it would just be me with who I’d become and who I believed I was. That would be all I would have. So what’s the point of any of this torture we subject ourselves to when the truth can strike at any moment?

And I can’t drink any water or eat of course. And I’m only getting thinner and there’s blood all over my hand where the needle keeps slipping. And I can’t breath through my nose and I can’t sleep and I’m being tortured by the kind doctors and nurses so I won’t die, just yet.

We should get real. I like it here all alone at 3am because it brings me close to the edge of something real. I’m dying of thirst, just like a hungry ghost. And it’s real. The suffering of our lives and our frail mortality are the two most real things we have. We’re on the wire, we really are.

And in a way it feels like heaven to be this free.
These people seem like angels. The sick people walking slowly down the halls dragging their oxygen tanks don’t fool me at all. It’s everywhere. It’s God in drag. And what an elation
to be in the charnel grounds once again and it’s all so different than before. This illusion is so grand. I love every second of it.

But never let your tears fade away. Never let your angst stray far. These are gifts and reminders of our right to be here. Our right to be had and loved in the midst of all the hunger and vomit. We’re searching you know, for the other end of the string. And my body is strong and my spirit is stronger. But my body is transient and shifting.
Who then, can I be forever? Because you won’t find her in a mirror or a hospital.

You’ll only find her in your Braveheart.

Sharada Devi

every sweet and nasty dream

I guess you thought you knew me. Everybody always does. Since we’re all here together, what’s the point of pretending?

Don’t you get tired of pretending to be something you aren’t or something you are?

The backlash of denial is a whip with spikes and razors and She’ll beat your back and She’ll make you bleed and I’m not kidding.

There’s no one to separate yourself from, no one that you’ve risen above. I give every homeless person I see money and I bow. Because they are God -and God has had the mercy to show me the truth. That God too is a beggar, and God too is a harlot.

We seem to think we’re spiritual people but really we’re just people scraping up the sides of hell’s dirty walls looking for some deeper love that we can’t find. We aren’t spiritual and it’s a useless and stupid word. We’re organisms with a spirit and it’s a powerful enterprising spirit. So vast and worthwhile that God has his hand on us.

Yes She’s stripping us down in her dream world. Us, the virgins and sluts who can’t stop buying and lying. Us, the ones who want true love and are so pathetic we ignore the ringing telephone because we just don’t know what to say to the person on the other side.

But the line is corrupt. The line is dead. She lost her virtue when She stuck Her knife in you. And Her knife is freedom dripping from the blade. Because deeper is where we need to go into Her dream of annihilation.

Deeper into Her dream of yearning for the savior light.

On top of Her while She’s laughing the red light flashes and you’re the man She’s dreamed of. Beneath you, She’s a dream to pound and smash until you find your way.

And yes, she’ll have you over and over again. No need to ask.

He’s barely potty trained and headed for the streets to score a new conquest or a new high. And in the middle of the meltdown, a new secret seeps in. “This isn’t what it used to be.”

We’re here together for better or for worse and you shut out the vagrants and you disown the filth and perversion as if you were separate and pure. As if you never shit at all.

Well you thought you knew me and I let you believe that I believed in some God out there on a hilltop that keeps everything clean and smiling.
Some God that drops the sun in your lap and says, “remember your wedding vows”

Right. You know what you’re doing and thinking. All liars and frauds and I’m not excluded. I welcome the mess I’m in because I love you just the way that you are. We are here in this place not to exclude but to accept and to cherish every fetish and every rage. This is about completion and sex in the dark, not the light.

Why should you not love the one you sit upon? Why should you not turn and look at the devil that never gives up? Reading all his love letters written in scribe, should you not say he is a poet sent to release you?

It’s a trap. A pit fall. A conspiracy that something is wrong and that your completion is found in exclusion because it is not. And there are so many ways to grind the grim reaper. So many topless and headless women. But I love you anyway, no matter where you stray or how tight you fit. Because we’re here together and nobody is going anywhere until She’s satisfied that yes, Truly you are the One.

The One that doesn’t leave Her no matter if She’s a bad girl or not.
The One that doesn’t forsake him because His flesh is hotter than his heart right now.

And we’re all looking for an after hours remedy to the solitude and the nagging-knowing that something rare is missing.

She’s missing because you thought you had her in the bag. But She’s a cat whose out of the bag. She’s a hissing and purring wet dream. That’s who She is. And She’ll slip through your fingers as She runs her fingers through your hair.

“wake up and love me again” she whispers

In bed with black heat-ashes to ashes and the smell of burning flesh-the church of our smoldering souls-and that’s what we do here no matter who we are. It’s just that some of us are more sexy than others…sexy is on the inside turning you into pure quicksilver.

This is the world we came into-and we got hypnotized into accepting reality as half of an equation – to never belong- and it’s is a deceitful hell realm that never wants you to meet Her at all.

So then we belong here -because we’re afraid of our substance- which is Her and Her radiant black heat- which is the salve of liberation. The black heat that we pound and that pounds us back hard. Yes that’s right and I’m not lying.

Tantra turning both ways. Tantra ripping and twisting you inside and out. Can you make it through the night with Her?
I doubt it.

She’s a shapeshifter and a dreamweaver- and Her face and Her body will become whatever and whoever you need Her to be to make this dream real for you. So real that you melt and flow back into Her like hot lava.

Gone forever into the deep fire light.

The Forgiving Volcano. The Perfect Mother of us all -is everything you will ever need. So get in -because nobody gets out without feeding their soul back to someone. She’s the hungry One.

And if you’re still in denial, that’s ok. Because your time is coming. And She’s undressing herself through every word and gesture, through every taste and smell…

through every sweet and nasty dream of me…

plus we all know that you’re standing there erect and naked already…

naked and afraid of the the plunge.
Sharada Devi


Skeleton Rising

♦I was born on the side of a mountain. This was another life, not this one.

We lived toward the top of the craggy peak and the sun would cast shadows through the clouds that were long and dark with flecks of rainbow light. It was the highest mountain in the region and my father was a shaman. My mother was his witch. Near the cave we lived in there was a flat rocky space, large and open to the wide and miraculous tibetan sky.

This was a very important place because it was the village sky burial grounds where the final offering was given by the corpse, back to the sky and the earth- the descending and hungry vultures would circle above then swoop down and feast upon the body that had been chopped up and wrapped tightly in white cloth.

My father loved the mountain and my mother drew her power from the sobbing and goodbyes. I loved the vultures and as a child would play in the burial grounds waiting for them to land and walk over to me. When they were eating, we would play tug of war with the entrails. I would laugh and laugh. They were so much fun.

Their eyes were gold and their feathers were soft and shimmery and when they would feast upon the carcass they would make sounds similar to a pig squealing. I gave them names and they were my only friends. I loved the vultures so much.

My father taught me to pray but I didn’t. My mother taught me magic but I didn’t care at all.
I just wanted to return to the burial ground and play with my vulture friends or build things with the sparkling white bones scattered everywhere. I even built a little tent with the bones -that I wrapped the bloody white shredded corpse cloths around. I would stay there all day and as long into the night as I could until my mother would come yelling my name “Dawa! Dawa!”

(Dawa means Moon)

So this went on for years and I was mostly happy. The day came though when I was 13 that my parents sold me to a man to be his wife.
I hated him. And I hated my parents. Everyday I would sit in my teepee plotting to run away, murder my new husband or my parents or both-
I didn’t know, I just didn’t want to be married and also since he lived in the next village I would have to leave my birds. So I did something my father taught me, I prayed for the first time.

And I sat and I prayed all day and all night for the 3 weeks leading up to the wedding. 4 days before the wedding there was a huge avalanche one sunny morning. The sun had just risen and I was outside with the vultures. My parents were still sleeping and there was this thunderous sound and suddenly with no warning at all huge rocks and boulders came bouncing and rolling down the mountain side destroying everything in their wake.

And a huge boulder fell covering the cave opening and another 3-4 boulders fell inside the narrow entrance between two mountains where visitors could enter to either visit my family or take a corpse to be eaten. It was all blocked completely. Nobody could get in and nobody could get out. The boulders were so gigantic it would take forever to find a way to move them.

I was all alone and a little cut up and bruised from chips of sharp rocks and pebbles exploding as they hit the mountain walls and ground. I felt sad that my parents would die and it crossed my mind that my prayers could have caused this. I didn’t ask for an avalanche but my father always told me that the great spirit answers prayers in mysterious ways.

So I would live alone now. Just me and the vultures and I wouldn’t have to get married. I ate berries and worms and drank water from a nearby waterfall. I stayed in the burial ground all day just watching the birds and feeling the sky.

There was a huge pile of white bones that I turned into a shrine to the angel that had answered my prayers. Things were going well.

After a few years of perfect peace I would sometimes get this strange feeling that I was being watched and I would look up to the mountain peaks but saw nothing. After some time I started growing paranoid as the feeling of being watched was growing stronger.

Late one full moon night while I lie sleeping in my tent I heard the flapping of wings, then I heard a heavy swooping noise and a shriek. There was a cacophony of chaos amidst the birds as I opened the flap to my tent and stepped outside.
The white light of the moon had disappeared and the sky was pitch black just for a moment as a huge shadow figure with wings swooped across Her face. I also noticed that somebody was riding the flying shadow. And it came closer and the shadow was a giant 30 foot vulture with deep golden eyes and a red throat.

And seated upon him was a man about 8 feet tall and he wore a dark cape with a hood and on top of the hood was the head of a vulture with beaming jewel eyes. He had a tail like a snake whipping behind him- otherwise, he looked exactly like a man. His eyes were luminous and dark. His eyes were heavy lidded and he reminded me of my father who had been a shaman.

The birds gathered around him as he dismounted his ride and as he walked towards me all the birds followed and then formed a huge circle around us. He said, “who are you?”
It was dark enough that I could still hide my face and I just stood silent.

He thrust out his arm and pointed his finger at the ground and flames shot up and a bonfire lit my appearance. In the light of the fire he looked at me and when he saw my face he smiled, then looked me up and down and then turned around and walked away into the night, into the swarm of worshipping vultures just beyond the trees.

I went back inside my tent and sat down and tried to figure out what I’d just seen and who he was. After an hour or two I couldn’t take it anymore so I quietly snuck out of my tent and went to find him.

Out beyond the trees another bonfire had formed and He was in front of it floating about 4 feet off the ground -and seated before him were the ugliest and most horrifying creatures you have ever seen. Demons. And the vultures were circling the sky above them in perfect form.

Suddenly he yelled, “You! Come over here!” and he turned his head and looked at me.

I was in shock and so I did what he said. He had a very magnetic power that made you want to obey him. When I was standing in front of him he pulled me by my arm closer into him and said,

“Look at Her! Do you see Her!”

The demons sat gawking.

He said to me, “take off your skin”

and so I did.

He said, “get in the fire.”

and so I did.

He said, ” breath smoke”

and so I did.

He said, “kiss me with your flames”

and so I did, licking his face from afar

He said, “peel back the layers of flesh from your bones.”

and so I did.

He said, “love me with all of your bones.”

and so I did, and it was magical.


He said, “get on my back”

and so I did.

He said to the demons,

“She is the sky you eat. She is the night you avenge. She is the moon that I have cast over you. She is my body and my thoughts.”

And he opened His wings and we flew through the smoky sky.

I heard my mother cry “Dawa come home!”
I saw my father casting spells.

I knew he was my angel.

I knew I was a weapon in His hands.

And we contorted into One upon the back of the bird. And his wings kept us warm. And we plunged to the bottom of the earth. And the serpent entered the crystal cave.

And the waters that flow deep in the womb.
And the ashes that rise from volcanic fire.
And the bones that carry the sky in her heart.

Became the Rising Sun in Dawa.

Skeleton Rising.

Sharada Devi

isis of the midnight sun

Take heed and listen to my words for the time has come.

She said, “I am the only path to heaven. I am the only God and there is no other. All who come to me shall be saved.”

Then She took off Her clothes and sat naked upon Her Lion Throne. She had flowers in Her hair and a flame was above Her head.

“put your bible down.” She said.


My love. My beautiful, wicked love. Throw your thunder my way. Stomp on me. Put me out. Carry my head on a stick. Make me yours forever.

“And I got down on my knees when I thought of you and I bowed my head to the ground when I heard your name. And I crawled to where you are, prostrating with my face in the dirt for the blessing of seeing your divine body. I bring you flowers that will never die. I bring you my tears to quench your thirst. I bring you my body to use as your own. I bring you my hands carrying your every desire.
I bring you my heart to eat. I will wash your feet in the blood of my heart. Make me yours. Consume my every thought that would separate me from you. Peel back my skin and look at who I am without you.

I am nothing without you.

You gave me life and so I give you my life. I bow with my forsaken head at your feet. Forgive me.

Take me. Make me your slave forever. I writhe in ecstasy in servitude to you. I bury your holy feet in roses. I cover your sacred body in tears. I bleed my life into you that I might course through your hungry veins.

You are the light that forever shines upon me and I love you. You are the black diamond eater. You are the soul slayer. You are the dark moon.

My Isis Of The Midnight Sun

You are my curse and I am addicted to your wrathful dancing. I am sorry I gave you no horse to ride, my wild and forgetful lady, will you remember me tomorrow?

You are my worst nightmare and I twist blissfully in the satisfaction of your gaze. Take me to where you are. Never leave me. My bones I will break if it makes you smile. Smile at me like the rising sun upon the cold death of the nights before I knew you. I bow to you and I beg that you would touch me one more time.

Touch me. Touch my pain.

I have no other God but you. I have no other eyes but you. Your soft lips are my savior and your sweet breath is my food. Suck out my soul and eat me alive. I was born to be yours and there will never be another. Flowers and tears and I’m heartless without you.

Summer angel of the rising morning take me under your soft and fragrant wings. Take me into your sunlit eyes. Take me into your open mouth. Take me into your radiant heat. Take me into your life and your mercy forever.

I bow and I forget who I am. I bow and I forget everything -and I smell the roses- and I taste the tears -and I don’t know who I am without you.

Touch me again and again. Touch me everywhere that hurts. Put your hands upon me. Put your hands through me. Put your hands inside of me and carry me home.

I love you and I’m speechless. I love you and I’m nameless. I love you and I’m useless if you don’t love me back. Take me. Forgive me. Make me a man.”


So this is what I’ve been trying to say. There is no one else. There is no other God but the life that’s in your face screaming. Or the life that just ignores you. Or the life that simply wrote you off.
The answer isn’t hard to find if you’re not an idiot.

Get down on your knees and pray. Forget about Jesus. Forget about yourself.

“SHE is the way, the truth and the life. No one gets to God except through Her.”

Jesus knows I’m right and you will too when you listen to me and do what I say.

I am revealing to you the secret teachings of tantra in such an easy way, you will be sure to miss it. I’ve been doing it all along. Little bread crumbs dropping in a trail- leading you straight to me -so I could slaughter you -and you could start again -and maybe get it right this time.

Everyone is wrong because they’re not listening to how angry Her silence can be. Everyone is wrong if they think she is a servant to the highest.

She IS the highest.

And in that most perfect moment that you stop being a dumb fuck (like literally) YOU will also be the highest- but at the moment, since you are still so unsure of yourself -you try to keep her down- so you’re coming in pretty low…

And She’ll keep withholding your life from you. You won’t know the way or the truth. You’ll only know an empty bed with a cold pillow next to yours. Since let’s face it, you’re in this- and you’re not a monk-(don’t even try) and it’s just not happening- why can’t you admit you’ve got some serious intimacy issues -and hiding behind your fantasy of some God out there- won’t solve anything -and you’re certainly not getting enlightened.

You need her stamp of approval upon you in more ways than one.

YOU are the one NOT going to God you fool.


The Goddess adorned in feathers and moonlight can take you high -deep into the night where no other man has been (unless he too is still as stupid as you)

So I’m telling you how to have it all. It’s the holy scripture of Her disappearing feet. I am walking backwards right into you for a reason. I’m telling you because you’re the one who has to be the One. She always knows if you’re listening and She has mysterious ways of speaking the twilight language of the gods and seers.

I’m not kidding. I’ve got a crystal ball and I see you in it and you should do what I say because,
She is the only path to heaven.

She said, “I am the One and besides me, there are no other gods. I have given you life and yet you do not know me.”

Time to set the record straight on who really died for you and get down on your knees and
pray for Her Kiss. Time to beg Her to show you
the man you could really be- because it’s actually up to Her and not you. You don’t understand Her dance at all. The dance in the dark that you keep avoiding because you’re a little boy -and it’s a mounting task.

It’s a mounting task. That’s the big secret I just pulled out of your pants.

Get it straight -and also have some respect and devotion.

Get it straight and enter the pearly gates of the golden goddess.

Otherwise, there is no god.
Sharada Devi

and he fell for me

Look what you made me do. My big strange daddy…

Late last night He came into my room and He unscrewed all the lightbulbs so that I could never see again. He was moving in the dark and I only knew where He was because I could hear His breath and because I am a cat. The black figure loomed over me and I hissed. My eyes were white triangles flecked with gold and my claws came out and were sharp and clean. I was shiny and black. I hissed and my tongue was a red fork reaching for His throat.

On this night the moon was just a sliver, sitting like horns in the sky.

Horns before halos. Because we all know the way back…

And it’s called the killing moon in case you didn’t know.

(He isn’t smarter than me just because He got in. I left the door open because I always knew He’d be back for more)

And I’ll get into your head and into your throat and into your stomach and I’ll pull everything loose. You won’t know a thing but the spell that I feed you. I make ice burn. I dry up the rain. I don’t ever get tired. I’ll get inside of you and I’ll start wringing and twisting and meowing until the dawn.

Until the Dead can dance.

I’ll unscrew your lightbulb and you won’t see a thing. I’ll leave you groping and groveling behind me begging for more.

I’m a very special cat and I’m also His pet.

When I was a kitten He found me one night in the bottom of the well where I’d fallen while I was looking for my mother. She was down there, but she was already dead lying face up in the stagnant water.
I used my mother’s body as a raft so I too wouldn’t drown and I sat there wet and cold and I cried and I cried. My mother wasn’t with me anymore but since her eyes never closed, I would stare into them pretending that I wasn’t alone. Death was my first companion and kept me company until He found me -and then I was with Him.

He seemed strange and big. I hissed and bit and scratched and was as violent as any kitten could be but He never let go and so I learned to love Him. My captor and my savior.

Time went by and I always avoided Him. He would feed me and I would only eat while He slept. He couldn’t get close because I was wild and vicious. He tried and He tried but kitty would never come to “daddy” even though He was the only one she had.

As I got older I became very seductive, as any savage feline could be-and I knew that He loved me -but it was My Jungle, not His, and I only needed him for food.

He put blankets out for me in the cold and would watch through His bedroom window to make sure I was eating the food He put out. I knew everything about Him, everything He did. I am a shiny black cat and nothing is hidden from me. I get into all the places I shouldn’t go and I make my home there.

But I’m all grown up now and He’s determined to bring me inside and so He leaves the door open and I go inside just to see what He’ll do…this is my game, not His. I’m a feline and He’s something else…

So He came in that night and I knew that He would. And He unscrewed the lightbulbs. This was a very deep longing for God. Cats have special ways of knowing all secret desires. And by now, I do love Him because He saved me and He feeds me and I’m His pet. So I hissed and I threatened Him and my eyes pulsed black fire and still His hand came toward me. And I let Him touch me and I started to purrrr and purrrr and roll all over in the bed….purrrring for daddy like a good kitty cat….suddenly when I had Him hooked and excited- I jumped up and started rubbing against His leg- back and forth- back and forth-rubbing against His leg…

“Come with me Daddy. Come with me big strange daddy”

….and I started walking very slowly and swaying and my tail was dancing just for Him- and He followed me totally blinded by my bewitching movement- and we left the house and we zig zagged through the tall juniper trees and the wind was howling…and we we climbed over the little mound where His dead dog was buried and we stepped rock by rock across the
murmuring creek and the moon was only a sliver, like horns sitting in the midnight sky.

As we got closer I started purring loudly and my tail was dancing, hypnotizing Him to follow…

follow me daddy…..follow me home…..

and I arched my back in a promise of ecstasy’s to come- and I looked right at Him with my deadly triangle eyes and just as He bent over to rub me in the dark I edged over the side of the well…

(it wasn’t high, it was more like a hole in the earth. It was a very old well. My mother died there)

And I pretended to fall -and I pretended to cry out in fear- and He pretended that He didn’t want to lose me… “daddy help me!”

and the well was very very deep and it was a dark and forbidden hole.

AND HE FELL FOR ME like a Good daddy.

And I brought Him here. Down to the bottom with me. Me and my captor. My savior. My big strange daddy- alone in the secret well of death and forbidden desire….where I was born.

I’d always come back and He never knew that I had always lived in the bottom of the well.

My home was with Her.

And She wanted Him. And I got Him.

This was a very deep longing for God.
And the horned moon hung low listening…hissing…purring…meowing

splashing in Her Death Waters and dying until the dawn.

And we spent that night and every night alone in the dark embrace of doom -together on top of Her floating immortal corpse…the forbidden deeply seen…

and I loved Him there just like He had always wanted….like any good pet would do…

On top of Her with the smell of Death everywhere.


Sharada Devi