my gift was you

Today I was remembering when they wheeled me in that morning of July 25 at 7am. I can barely remember the doctor holding out his slender oriental hand to me and saying, “Hello Michelle” – as that was the commencement of the end of me for many hours…I didn’t feel anything – no fear- nothing- I could die now-

I know….

and after the surgery I guess I had a lot of pain and I remember groaning and being on this stretcher in a back room and a nice man sitting in front of me who would periodically say,
“Michelle how do you feel are you having pain?” and I remember making these yelping sounds and again I would be put under- apparently my pain was not in control and they were regulating it- this went on for about 4 hours. I feel kind of sad when I think about this part of the experience- it’s all very blurry- I just hear myself whimpering and moaning…and I hear his kind voice…

and then the next thing I remember is being rolled in a stretcher through the hospital hallways and looking down at my bare stomach with a two foot long wound stapled shut with stainless steel clamps. It seemed foreign- my stomach was distended -it was surreal, like a dream. My body seemed something else besides me and I observed it like I would any phenomena- and my attachment to this paper thin bag of bones and hope was broken once again…this keeps happening to me…

I used to be afraid – consciously – I admit it- and I know hardly anybody else who claims to have faith will say this- but I admit I have always been very afraid to die- to catch a disease- whatever- but now it’s all up in the air-I feel no fear-I stopped thinking I can control anything…now I feel only a sense of definitive gliding…

sailing into the unknown- blown by mysterious winds- and I go alone and unadorned and profoundly scarred -naked into the night of myself once again. I have nothing else to offer anybody but my wounds and what I found in the cemetery of my surrender. It’s hard to describe the blessing that always begins as a curse…

and I did not eat for nearly 2 months- and I’m talking about this because it matters- and my recovery was painful – and eating was like being tortured with every bite- and Bhagavan Das made me these huge cups every morning with kefir, bananas- (and who knows what else he put in it) and as he walked in the room with that big cup in his hand I just cringed and he would stand there and force me to drink it and he kept making me eat- and it was horrible- and I went day by day in pain and hunched over walking slowly up the stairs into the unknown. Will my wound ever heal I thought? And the answer was I don’t know…probably not…

prior to the surgery I literally could not eat- I probably vomited green water 100 times during the month of July – a month filled with hours of death defying nausea – there is nothing left of her but a deep blank stare- a gaunt face in the mirror with glassy, black socketed eyes- just waiting to go under -tipping off the edge of human life-this was a raping and a torment that I wish on nobody- this violent purging and purging- and seeing people’s faces flashing before my eyes -and I would feel sick to see these faces -and all the speeding to the finish line- and the spinning on stinging ice- it felt like a great evil was upon me as it was being exorcized from my hostage soul-

….and it was so incredibly eery so I didn’t know what to do and I don’t know why that was happening and so that’s why I shut everything down- the blog, youtube channel etc- I got overwhelmed and my plan was to disappear into the wilderness and live out the rest of my menial days…but of course as I felt better I realized how fearful and selfish that would be-

and then I remembered what this certain cunning demon whispered in my ear last year- he said,

“TAKE IT EASY JESUS”

it was a sarcastic comment -attempting to make me doubt and question my intentions- and also he was implying that I was doing something that I wasn’t – which is feeling myself to be spiritually superior- which I do not- so that was disturbing- and I am so tired of these demons always finding ways to subvert me- and I thought,

“I would rather die drowning in the black suffering of everyone -and I would rather get surgery every month -or become very sick every year -than to let these demons scare me into rejecting my vow to help uplift all sentient beings…even at the cost of my very own life”

Because even the doctors did not exactly know what the problem was- at first they went in with cameras- and then decided to just splay the whole thing wide open…so it’s not like something was solved…or I had a disease or anything like that – and I am ok with this somehow- because I am so tired of resisting the inevitable menace of annihilation – I thought, “why not now?” I felt peace. Not a morbid death wish- I’m just done fighting her back- or at least I’m getting ready to be done -and if this is what my life and my purpose is about then I will accept it until I am killed by it…

and I feel very different after every encounter with death -calmer- and more tolerant of others – and less afraid to be misunderstood for my
“cruel and unkind behavior” because the bottom line really is, you may not know I love you based on what I might say or do, and maybe I’m demented or S&M inclined- I don’t know- but I really do know that I love you…and that’s always my intention- to love actually -even if I’m hated for it- and to do the astral surgery on you…to wield the psychic knife of my promise…

and I’m telling you this not because I’m an ego maniac but because there is meaning in every thing life gives us – there is a blessing in the curse-and awakening has many disguises- and just relax because it’s not about you- and just let go -and go ahead fall far- all the way down down down- and don’t think even for one second that anything is coincidence or a mistake- and don’t think that death isn’t more alert than you are…

and most of all please don’t forget me when I’m gone and always remember that my love was true and my pain was wise and my gift was you and you gave me everything I am…

love,
Sharada Devi

as the silver dusk

I prefer nighttime over daytime and the moon over the sun. I prefer quiet over getting to know you and I prefer a silhouette over the naked truth. I prefer an implication rather than a finger pointing and I prefer a hint over a stated fact. I prefer a breaking heart over a manic mind and I prefer moving over standing still. I prefer candlelight over a flashlight and I prefer you over me…

and you didn’t touch a thing when you walked into the room. Your feet were soft on the floor and nothing moved out of your way. This heavy hearted trying just got to be too much for you to bear and so you came quietly to lay down and listen. There is a stream outside my window.
I covered you with a blanket and then you fell asleep. I thought you were my baby and so I did what I should do -I laid my hands upon your heart and then I prayed for you…

I prayed inside where the light had died. I prayed that your mother might be me. I prayed that my baby would become the north star and I sang to those falling angels. I prayed that the cross might not be so heavy and I prayed that these fires would not burn so hot. I prayed that God would hold out his hand so that you would know your father. I prayed for your dreams and I prayed for your fears and I prayed for your laughter and I prayed for your tears. I prayed where you forgot to go…

and you slept and you dreamed that I was your mother but this time we lived on a river. The river was wide and the water was white and our life seemed small by its wayside. And the sound was in the way her hair fell from the mountain- a waterfall holding the gasp of new life. And my baby was fed and the holy men came and thought they could take you away. And I became the bear that I killed and I stomped out any chance of goodbye. And in your dream you never got sad but you played near the water with a ghost on your head. That ghost was me. Because I saved you and I haunt you when you sit near the melding water- and so you see only me in its foaming mirror. The trees are tall that you sit beneath and the winds are always howling the words you cannot hear. The winds howl, “You found her. She’s here.”

And I never took you from this twilight where you dreamed of two places at once. One in my heart and one in my head. I found a baby washed up on the shore- and I can’t tell if he’s still breathing…and I never woke you as you slept in my bed- as you tossed and you turned when I lifted my hands. One on your bruises and one on your scars. I prayed for my baby to rise from the dead. I prefer giving over taking.

Do you love me as you sleep and feel my life inside your heart? Do you love me as you dream and hear my pain inside your sorrow? Do you love me even though I found you washed up in the seeds of night? Do you love me just because I gave you all my Mother Light?

Do you think of me inside your dream when all the wonder has faded? When the rapids of the river rest and the holy men return? Will you remember me inside the dream when I gave my body to the dawn- when they came inside and tried to take you right before the morning bled-and I left myself wide open to the blackness of the sweep of light just inside the shining dead.

I do not own my baby as I swoon beneath the gaze of noon. I do not admit that I am rabid. There is a voice inside my head, there is a lover who isn’t far. There is an angel in her grave. There is a cross that hangs the sun. There is a deep hole in this fervor. There is a black swipe across my face. There is a sinful counterpart. There is a mother making breakfast. There is a widow scraping poison. There is a boy who murders. There is a breath that doesn’t come again…

my mouth can hold a million goodbyes…

so sometimes I take you away from me and my bed is empty and your head no longer rests upon my pillow…

and sometimes I swallow you inside the dream and the road goes away and the river vanishes. Why don’t you see me then?…

and sometimes I moan while I’m rocking the bed and my prayers turn to curses and my light turns to shadow. Will you still love me in the morning?

and sometimes I move you from your dream into mine where there is no dream and there is no you. And I take you as my baby and I sing you back to sleep…

and sometimes you tell me that you love me but most of all you just pretend that I’m not real. But if I’m not real- then you’re not my baby- and if you’re not my baby -then this fantasy is just a phantom- and this love is just another vision of a face that you can’t even see…

so be my baby and cry for me…

because you came and laid upon my bed like a little sparrow who had fallen from a tree…and I opened your mouth and I fed you my life and I blew upon your feathery wings…and I lifted you high into a white crimson love and we flew into a brand new dream…

as the silver dusk, I am forever yours.

Sharada Devi

GOD SAW

Two of my dogs are biters. I think I’ve done something wrong. Oh, they don’t bite me, on the contrary, I am their object of adoration (why do you think I have them) they bite everyone else.
I don’t know what to do about it either. I am constantly threatening them with all sorts of horrible repercussions (and I get pretty creative too) but last night our friend walked in the room (and to make it worse, this is his house!) and my little wolverine came up silently behind him before anyone could notice and bit him on the lower calf- he screamed “ouch” swatting at his leg – like a mosquito just bit him- of course no mark was left but he felt the sting- and let’s face it, that’s the idea isn’t it!

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not proud of this aggression and I have no idea where they get off pinching people’s calves with their rounded little teeth- when another person even looks at me they go insane– they’re quite harmless- but they certainly don’t think so- and that’s all that really matters right?

Well, not really because one day they may meet their match and get their sweet little head torn off by an irritated pit bull- but that’s the chance their taking isn’t it? I’m sure their discretion and opinion of their prowess and fighting skills are totally out of proportion to their actual abilities (again no idea where this comes from) and I’m pretty sure their willing to take their chances- my sweetest baby of all has this blood curdling scream he likes to make as he prepares to attack- sounds just like a little girl banshee- he’s pretty sure it’s his victory song- and somehow the other dog believes him….he’s got a level of courage that is for the most part suicidal- and I just find that raw grit so fascinating, intriguing- charming even…

What can I do? Should I set a better example? Do I need to change? Maybe so…I’m feeling really pathetic and irresponsible as I confess this to you…what have I done to my little dogs to create such warmongering monsters? Was it something I said?

I told them they need to see Helga. She’s this gigantic German woman I know and any dog that lays eyes on her – puts his tail between his legs and packs up his shriveled goods forever. She’s a dog trainer- and even I’m a bit afraid of Helga. I’ve tried to spare them the pain of dog training monotony and inevitable castration- which is also kind of the vow I made to all of you. I spare you Helga. And No she’s not my alter ego! What do you guys think? That I make stuff up- that I’m insane? Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!
I’ll never tell⚡️
Keep them guessing is my leg biting motto…..

The hardest part to accept though is the philosophy that dogs take on the characteristics of their owners…I always say to Bhagavan Das
“Did we do something wrong…they used to be so cute and cuddly and normal? ” (as I browse through puppy pictures of the good old days..) and he’s like, “I don’t know what happened, but they’ve got to go…”
then I say, “I know, I can’t stand them. I’ll put an add on craigslist right now” and he’s like, “why? I’ll just drop them off at the pound” – then about 20 minutes later I here him calling Padme, “where’s my baby girl…?” So I know he’s full of shit- but I’m NOT and they know it. For me it’s this intense love/hate that keeps the spark alive-Why do you think they’re always watching and conspiring against me? They work Bhagavan Das HARD- and I say to him- “don’t be their bitch! Dude, they’re working you – they don’t care about you – they just want your food and a long massage…” and he knows it too but he can get a little desperate for their attention and he’s sentimental too – which I don’t and I’m not- because I see right through their wicked, conniving chihuahua ways…

and don’t get me wrong I feel sorry for the little trolls because I know it’s not totally 100% their fault- it’s those demon chihuahua ancestors that I’m pretty sure have possessed them- that keeps padme compulsively sitting pretty (like 100’s of times a day- and we didn’t even teach her- it just started happening- spooky right? I mean it was cute at first but now it’s just like day of the dead…) or Mani conspiring to escape and then hunting us in the yard like he has no idea who we are- his eyes even turn red-seriously, I’ll send a picture if you don’t believe me ….so, we are considering/researching some kind of group dog exorcism – but aren’t sure how dangerous that could be…they’re like these invincible cockroaches -you just CANNOT destroy them- just believe me ok?

So anyway- I don’t know if the owner/dog character match up is true of just some myth- I mean, our one dog has this mentality of :

“It’s all good guys. Let’s just kick back for awhile- why do it today when we can do it tomorrow. Peace guys. “- and he lays on his back with his legs spread wide- daydreaming all day with his pink bunny in his mouth- and he’s a REALLY good singer too…

and our other one who I’ve secretly called Diablo from the moment our eyes met- sure he was only 7 weeks old- but he had MOJO and an attitude to match- he looked at me with that angelic little face and said, “WTF do you want lady?” and it was love at first sight. He’s crazy and wreckless and seems to have a death wish but he never dies- he jumps from high places and is like this sniper always prowling quietly waiting to destroy- and you’ll never see him coming- but I SEE HIM coming and so he works me and I let him- he wags his tail, licks me and kisses me and says, ” it was just a joke. I didn’t mean it. I love you.” He’ll attempt to murder Mani’s pink bunny- viciously injuring her- and look at me with tears in his little soft eyes and say, “What happened mommy?” and I just kiss his evil little face and whisper in his quivering ear,
“I’m going to destroy you my little honey bear”

…it goes on…it’s a daily battle really…

why have I done this to gods innocent creatures? Its a constant war deep inside my soul- often I think about the moment of my death when they say that your entire life flashes before your eyes and I instantly see a little toy puppy face and I hear myself whispering in their innocent little ear,
“mommy’s going to snap your little neck like a chicken if you bark one more f’ing time ok sweetheart?”

and then I give him that special dark mother kiss on his soft little forehead….it seems it’s my little secret right?

and then I think to myself- No, this can’t be good….

GOD SAW.

…and pink bunny really did die for good this morning- theirs nothing left of her but pink fur and guts and gore all over the hardwood floors- my little DIABLO ripped out her squeaker and ate it- and then he came over and kissed my heart wide open…little angel baby…

and I just smiled while I watched him…after all he is mommy’s little mojo ⚡️❤️⚡️

Sharada Devi

TICK TOCK

I love thunderstorms -and when it rains in the summer- like really loud thunderstorms- when it sounds like the world might end- and lightening crashes -and you don’t know where- and everything stays quiet, hiding and waiting for the end of her majestic wrath.

That’s why I get mad. When I get ignored. And all he says is “ok.” and “sorry” and stays really quiet and peaceful -and I told him he’s insincere because I’m just a storm and he’s waiting for it to end- for me just to blow over- with the least amount of effort and participation. I guess he thinks he’s some kind of zen master- (you know how aikido works)- but I think he’s just not very invested in the glory of her sudden strikes and earth shattering awakenings. If you’re not ready, don’t be afraid- just don’t go outside…

I really hate to admit this, but I’m not into peace at all. It’s like a cardboard box- sure you can fill it up, tape it shut, but eventually it’s going to collapse- so I say, why wait? Let’s get this thing going now. I’m always ready for the coming of the lord..and anarchy is a restless and righteous body to behold. And it’s no use trying to empty those clouds on your own…you’re going to need someone to blame for the uprise- otherwise, there’s nowhere for the lightening to strike!

So when I say “willing participant” I mean it. But not one who always apologizes -because that’s too placid- we need someone fully invested in the building of a really viable armageddon- one that we know will break this land into bits and pieces- and we’ll just float around on the end of the world smiling and fulfilled. Because nothing is meaningful until we destroy it. Hahahahahahah!!!

That’s all I can really commit to. The end of me. The only one who is forever mine will break the shaft in two. Will stomp out the flame. Will flatten the embers. Will walk through my black fire and annihilate time. Stollen by me, his hostage and only survivor.- It’s a cut through the
tunnel, a hole in the gate, a fitful unravel, the last breath in the throat….it’s all we can do to pass the seconds here-

TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK

the sound of that clock ticking infuriates me -and I’m about to strike or pounce- break all the windows, tear down the doors…turn everything upside down. I’ll leave you dangling from your ankles until you put out!

I need to GET OUT OF HERE. Basically.

So don’t try to make me get peaceful because it won’t work- and all I will do is upset you -and then you’re going to hate me really bad -and then YOU won’t be peaceful anymore (like you had previously thought you were)
Do you see now? The game works in MY favor NOT HIS -and so I’m like winning everything thats still left. This “ok and I’m sorry” is a total selfish lie- just trying to keep yourself safe in the game, less collateral- no telling who or what you could lose right? WRONG. It’s taken. You just don’t want to PUT OUT do you? Lazy lazy lazy, I give it ALL to you and you say “sorry” and I say “NO WAY” we’re getting it UP- yes we are. You WILL PUT OUT! Hahahahahahaha!

hallelujah! come and get me!

So my interpretation of your acts of kindness and tolerance and forgiveness of my primal rage
is that you just:
1) don’t give a fuck about me
2) you’re a lazy coward
3) you’re holding something really tight- and it’s called – expectation
4) you abhor violence and are a vegan
5) you read too many books about how to get and stay happy
6) you invest in the future
7) you’re a self righteous bible thumper
8) the new age flew up your ass and you just can’t get it out
9) you met someone else
10) you’re totally gay

So if you can answer any of those with a yes, stop pretending to care. And I don’t care if you think I’m obsessed with myself. Any good storm needs preparation. I’m high maintenance and my ego is the biggest thing between my thighs of fun and fury -and you’re just boring and jealous that I’ve got something to say and honestly, you really don’t. And you’re just uncomfortable because I’m inappropriate- and you just don’t like me because I’m not a man and I took you down anyway (that’s a big one believe me) -and you’re just a prissy woman who can’t change a lightbulb…

and Bhagavan Das is WRONG. I came back from the dead and found him -and I wasn’t f’ing lost- and I’ve got no f’ing bills to pay- and I can handle Walmart – NO PROBLEM-

AND I’M NOT A BUNNY!

And if his little baby mind feels safer making me a little lady bunny, so be it-he’ll pay soon enough- I tell him ALL the time…(like several times a day)

YOUR DAY IS COMING BIG BOY.

And I am disrespectful for effect. And stop being so serious. And everything is funny, And it’s a tragedy we had to meet like this. And we’re going to blow up everything and burn it all to the ground. And we’re going to sit on perfectly shaped mounds of rubble at the end of it all -kissing and holding hands like little human bunnies.

And you can say- fuck you- but don’t ever say you’re sorry. And you can say -no – but don’t ever say ok.

Because we need to thrash until we’re free.
Ok? (just kidding) Hahahahahahaha⚡️❤️⚡️
sharada devi

yes. her name is heaven.

cool blue eyes, a slippery flower, sips of the water born moon. white washed sky, winged serpent slither. forbidden cloud, mine at last…crescent loop, horned moon grip. she’s as sharp as a sickle of ice…

held soft and steady. thirsty eyes. pouring…into him. the slithery one. upon her throne. floating ice. she rains inside as his secret emerges…

pinned down. the headless snake. torn open. hungry. bodiless. a love like ancient moonlight. l do remember. pulling waves. eyes filled and fed. starving hurts. where can i find her?

the death in love. an open battle. charming knives. erotic slivers. gouging wounds too deep to hide…i heard her at your door. i saw the end of a rabid bone. i took the club. i beat the sinner. her sugar lips. her opal eyes.

i’m not fooled when they switch positions. it happens all the time…

and so I kept wandering. it wasn’t over…claws in a chapel. i confess i’m a cat. he doesn’t love me. nails drug down the back of a priest. blood from the moment he said he was pure.
hot from the second he saw me. purr because i’m hungry…

i confess i’m the devil. to him i was given. but it’s not true. he’s wrong when he preaches. the devil’s just one of my dresses. i do it for you. take it off me yourself. you won’t be misled. it’s true. wings and g spots. it’s true. kissing scars…

it’s not over. it’s wasn’t enough. you’re not done. do what you said you’d do. until the holy man squeals. and he’s blistered. get on your knees and beg me to own you. cut from the cross. laid in feathers and pearls. rose petals fall from the sky…

and i sang the song of the god who still touches the animals she loves as the sunlight goes down…

dark chapel at night. eyes that don’t bother. switching it back. the cat arches her back and starts hunting the spook who seduced her…

she’s told you twice. “i know you.”
her barbed tongue licks the bowl. inside this cat in the chapel is killing for food….and outside the moon is eating the sun as he drinks her….

then the sun got on top of the moon.
the priest was a sinner. so i made him love me. he made me say I’d light his fire. i’m hiding in the smoke. covered in his cloak. the sun is inside of the moon.

then god finally came and heaven went home. yes, her name is heaven.
Sharada Devi

yesterday i was standing on a mountain top

I’m so sad. Woe is me and the tears that trip me, caught I am in this collapsing house. As cursed as the shafts of a broken sun my love goes on unrequited…are you tired of hearing me lament?

Probably. It always ends this way…it’s time for me to pack my bags…I know you never really loved me. Love isn’t the perfume she was wearing. Love isn’t the way the song ended. I hope you never die. I think love is the one who will be there when a hard wind starts to blow. I think love is an anchor so that I won’t float away. I think love is because you know me -and I don’t mean the mean things that I say. I think love is a strong steady hand. And I’ve been crying all my life because I just can’t take this pain. The pain that everybody hurts – what I can’t take away. And he was afraid to die and there was nothing I could do. I am a helpless seashell alone and hollow. I’m not very much -although I cast a sharp and smouldering shadow…

I slept a few hours last night like any human should and so I’m going to be good and benign today…

Bhagavan Das says that I can’t function like a regular person and I won’t do regular things on my own like pay bills or put gas in a car- or order propane for a propane tank…and so I’m not as independent as I claim to be and he says I therefore need “a lot of help”

and I eat weird food choices and I say things like bitch and fag and bloodsucker -I get almost an omniscient sense of eternal fury like a child who’s eaten too many cookies when I’m sleep deprived and filled with other people’s thoughts …and it’s so embarrassing and I’m sorry I’m insane and apparently I will always need a crutch or a man who will care for me… according to my master, Bhagavan Das’s evaluation of my condition of “you just can’t make it alone in this world….you’re too sensitive….” it’s humiliating…he just said this last night…I’m still recovering…

Ok? So I’m such a faker then. And I don’t mean anything I say like, “chop chop chop or “off with your head!” etc- whatever…I’m just a bunny with floppy ears and a pink flower and aimlessly I hop hop hop….

Bhagavan Das also says I can’t do a lot off things on my own without consequences (I was on that independence kick pretty hard – been up for a couple days already) because I “can’t go into Walmart if necessary without nearly panicking -and I don’t pay attention to where I’m going and I could get lost…”
and I’m getting pissed just writing these words- maybe it’s nap time again -I don’t know- or maybe he should just fuck off!!!! Oh I’m sorry, I’m doing it again- “This life is a dream. Take a deep breath Sharada. Everything passes. Just relax” oh really? Well, FUCK YOU TOO GRANDPA!!!

I’m so inappreciative and wicked. I must still be tired…

And I’m sorry again for the misunderstandings and miscommunication. I really want to work this out. I appreciate you reading this, I know it takes time and I hope you still love me. Don’t die ok?
Yesterday I was standing on a mountain top with a pitchfork in my hand and I had snakes for hair and I ate a man for lunch-I was very dangerous…but I fell asleep and now I’m just a maverick in a pile of hay. I can’t subdue or seduce or destroy the world today…I can only smile and be quiet and nice…which is fine for a couple hours I guess…it’s just so boring….without a vendetta or an enemy or something…

To be honest with you (and I’m feeling a violence rising again just telling you this) he treats me like a child and he should f’ing talk!!! “Oh you can’t handle this, oh you can’t handle that…”
“Oh REALLY?!!! whose handling you bitch!!!!”(those are my words) I’m sorry for being so nasty and disrespectful, I’m probably just hungry- isn’t that what happens to a helpless f’ing child like me, it gets HUNGRY!!!!!

I guess I really am alone and he really is my enemy. I always had my suspicions of his allegiance. But at least the truth came out. I’m just so tired of him laughing at me…lets just say, it’s a good thing for him I’m nearly a saint…

But anyway, back to the loving arms of God and what peace means to me….did you ever see that movie Eraserhead? Well that’s what I feel like right now- and I totally lied- I went to bed 2 hours ago and slept 1 hour and 30 minutes and it’s now 2:30 a.m. I’m not tired either -and I’ve now realized the mess I’m in…people treat me like I’m a bunny when I’m really more like a cobra or a python or a vampire. I strike hard-I really do -I bite in the dark- I get a really tight grip and I squeeze the life right out..and then those who claim to love me say antagonistic things like “honey just relax, everything will be ok…” Like I couldn’t have f’ing thought of that myself???!!! Am I wrong? No, I’m not and it’s insane.

Anyway, I just wanted to say that I feel like I can tell you this because I’m obviously in over my pretty little needy head with insanity run amok- and it’s not on my end as far as I’m concerned…

Love isn’t a joke it feels more like a confession and so I’m seeking forgiveness. Love isn’t a crutch it feels more like a highchair and so I’m
looking for a spoon. Love isn’t a touch it feels more like a spanking and so I’m pulling down my pants…love isn’t a kiss it feels more like a bite -and then I heard you can live forever…

as long as you stay out of the sun…
Sharada Devi

kiss kiss kiss

You can’t touch me. I’m inside my fortress. You think I’m so loose and sloppy – like I told you all and everything my little whining heart can carry? Think again. I’ve got guard dogs that growl and a big draw bridge. I’ve got endless masks and a suit of steel. I’ve got everything to hide behind- my angst my horror- oh, it sounds so real. I’m a certain secret and no one gets inside unless of course I’ve frisked them, patted them down, X-rayed them, fed them my soup, taught them my alphabet, and hung them to dry…

then maybe I’ll tell you my name in the morning. However, it isn’t likely. I’m a night tripper and I do best in the pages unread. So before you get all confident with everything I said, remember- this sweetheart isn’t yet bled and so off with your useless monotone head!!!

Why are you such a wayward bitch?
Because somebody’s got to milk the cow. Why are you such a soft spoken flower? Because I fell really hard and hit my head.

It’s your lucky day. So take down the dream that’s hung over your bed, I’m nobody’s harlot, did you hear what I said? I don’t have a noose with me today l don’t have my cry baby eyes…I only have pancakes that I made with eyes shut, hot off the griddle for you.

And none of this matters when light strikes the dawn. We all knew the man child was headed our way. We all knew sister moonshine was sinking -and honestly, I’m just looking for someone coherent to talk to. That’s all this really is- fuzzy sounds between swollen ears, too much eye makeup, boom boom boy dolls and the bright morning star. I saw her and she was so brilliant just sitting stark in the sky- (but by me, unnoticed) I thought something might be wrong. So I grabbed her took and her home with me. I gave her everything. I hid her and protected her from bats and boys with furry balls. I think you know where this is headed…

basically you’re a predator the way a hamster might hunt a mouse- but you’re my prey the way a panther might wear a deer head to cover her
fangs…it’s funny how she spins it. I know. It’s wax on wax off- wax on wax off, ok karate kid?

So go find someone else’s shoulder to cry on…because it’s hunting season and I’m open for business. Chop chop chop.

From high in my fortress overlooking my salted sea it’s almost time to blow this fort down and let the mad dogs and wild dogs be…I love the way they fight back…the way they look at me…
tooth and claw and yellow eyes…it’s to the death we make amends and I’m not praying to Jesus this time…

short and sweet, maybe I’m too tall. Maybe you should crawl. Maybe you’re my wall. Maybe i might fall. Why don’t you ever call?
And that’s not all….
get back in your crib if you can’t take it my little baby doll.

I’m so crushed I’m like a flower someone stuck between the pages of a book waiting for it to dry….but my rain is eternal and I’ll always be wet, like a seal lying on a rock…or a girl swimming in a bikini…

it isn’t about my dynasty,
it’s about the way you left me hanging…it isn’t about getting the best of me- it’s about the way you bite…blood sucker.

mommy I’m home.

kiss kiss kiss
Sharada Devi

Wet rain

I’m getting bored. You seem to be so infatuated with yourself, its hard to compete. I’m not an internet fantasy. It’s stupid, it’s worthless, I’m a person and I’m real. Just go back to Jedi porn and your make believe thighs of steel –

You know, your Eden with popcorn -where Adam met Eve…before HE came along….just another horny snake dangling from a tree and he said,
“Hey sexy Eve, why not eat ALL of me…”

I would have too if I were her…it’s a no-brainer really…

because Adam seems a little uptight, and just a little soft. And you know you thought the same thing, don’t lie….can’t set your woman back on track? Poor naked Adam, just another closet case….not much has changed since then…women scream for the snake and not the sucker- in case you didn’t know that….so be careful when you bend over….a gay frog, a glazed hog. It all tastes good right?

Counting backwards…
although it wasn’t for numbers not 1 and not 2. And it wasn’t for them, and not me and not you…

So I am feeding the light from the dark shadows- and places that I will never defeat…feeding you back to yourself…

then God asked me why I wasn’t eating -I won’t touch anything -I’m just some weird and inappropriate monolith. It was almost too late anyway. Why should I eat? Nothing’s for me.

But I know because he’s red I can push him, higher and deeper than most. I can breathe on you. My hipbone is grinding into the earth and I’m not sleeping again. Flesh burning bright, eyes basking in the glory of the coming of God. I’m awake most of the time…

And the earth was like the shoes I wore, useless to me now. Is anyone listening? She asked me when I was born and I told her December 19. My mother didn’t make me though, I came on my own and I have proof. My proof is you. Hooves pounding the ground for more of my suchness. A burping ballerina. Stop acting gay ok? It’s a real turnoff…mommy bled a heap of moons…and some just got in my way, that’s all…

leather and whips and a soft spoken gaze. There is a XXX theatre on the corner between heaven and a virtual hell. She’s laughing at you,
you idiot maker. Pride in the corner, two men in a stall. That’s what happens in places like that, someone’s gonna bend you over. And you know it too don’t you?

It’s limp. It’s soft and the bread basket is full. You did it again. Mockery. Slamming fists into the pavement. A gate for unbelievers. Find someone else to screw. The big dog just said NO. You think it’s all nonsense don’t you. You think I never talk about myself. You think my tusks are dull. You think I’m a mess in masterpiece eyes. You think I’m stepping on big man feet. You think I’m a bunny who hops like a charm. You think I’m the bitch with 3 eyes.

You think I’m talking to you right now, don’t you? Well I never sleep. The voices are ALWAYS in my head and I really do think you SHOULD be afraid. This whore is a maiden that every mouse lays. So sorry to tempt you, crawl back in your hole. Mommy made dinner down deep in your sister. Sister Fucker, that’s what he said. “Get those Sister Fuckers away from me.” and he was enlightened. So what can you expect me to do for you?

So suck up the morning, the goats are bled. It’s all kosher now. I made virgin stew…so don’t worry. And nobody knows our little secret. Not yet…

And don’t get so creeped out guys, you know the way I am by now. You know the pace I set. You know the gleaming horse I bet. You know I’m drawing paradise. You know my love wears no disguise. That’s her address,

Wet rain.

The morning dew runs down my leg and I’m just God uncovered. So really I can say anything- because virtually sin left such a loophole. I broke the daddy rules for you. I drowned myself in a shallow pool. It’s all a blast of who fucks who- and whose first- and really I do have the most money -just like I have the most pain. It’s a self serving crock -It’s a groaning young girl, it’s a fag down on his knees.

It’s me turning over the table of bloody dessert.

I’ve got something for you in my pocket.

I love you. I won’t lie. Stick around and see, how you can make or break a saintly bitch like me. I’d love you to try and I’m ready in bed.
My place of war. My place of Red.

Did she really just say all this offensive shit?
Yes I did. It wasn’t hard.
So please roll over.

Get it?
Sharada Devi

a worm in sacred territory

I wasn’t anywhere but here and the clock kept ticking as I looked into your eyes. A swelling gray washed over us and the pyre had already burned our bodies to ashes in this slumbering hush. I knew you understood me- my mourning for the unswept tears, my grieving for the dead untouched…

my grave was in your eyes. My death was in your breathing. The tomb of what my mother gave and the weapons of my father. The source of my dying and the end of my known, you just sat staring at my secrets. A broken mirror sitting in the corner of this empty room watching you smile…you are full of what I can never be. So I close my eyes to get away, I clench my fists in sanction…

If only I could touch you, if only I could feel you…the agony of matrimony, death beyond my heavy shoulders, death beyond my bedroom shackles, death beyond my clammy skin-you are so beautiful to me…

I’ve been looking for you in a stain that won’t love me. I’ve been looking for you in painted bodies packed in ice. I’ve been looking for you in dried blood upon my pale skin. I’m slipping away and I don’t know where. I never want to leave you. A fitful door opens and closes but I can never get inside…

and the dismal clock keeps ticking and you don’t move and I don’t open. I’m naked, I’m white, and I’m cold. There isn’t anything but a wilted rose…

I don’t want to be a flower because they die.  I don’t want to be a baby because they grow old. I don’t want to love you because love kills…

and I’ve been to my funeral and the grave stone read, “Nobody ever loved me and now I’m dead…”

so I’m scraping and clawing, chewing my leg. This trap has tight jaws and your teeth are so broken. Look at your violence. Look at your rage. This isn’t a girl who will ever leave you, this isn’t a veil washed in your blood. This isn’t an uncertain boy. This isn’t a can of old worms…

everything rots inside the unsaid…

you didn’t have to tell me because I already knew. You didn’t have to show me because I already saw- your baby blanket in the trash- your little foot without a shoe…the undertow of baby bones and your mother’s dark hair churning…

so what are you without me and who is talking to the dead? A baby ghost, a wise old shadow, a turning feather in the breeze. So what are you without me and who is pulling out the knife?
A rusted bone un thrust, a razor with no strings attached, a mind that went nowhere…

I’m only saying that we never know whose hand we’re really holding. Is my father still alive?
I’m only saying we never know whose eyes we’re really seeing. Is my mother watching me touch myself? I’m only saying you can’t hide from me.
Is she an alligator beneath my skin?

I’m only saying there is only me and you…

and you are a blur and I am it’s haze. And you are a fire and I am it’s blaze. And you are a trickle and I am its stream. And you are a fantasy and I am it’s dream…

we’re going down where we can’t hear the clock…we’re moving through the thorns and thicket…we’re going deeper into seconds passed…we’re moving through the last goodbye…
and we’re not morbid and we’re not scathed…and we’re not anything we’ve ever borrowed…

we’re only here together now matching the light in each other’s eyes. We’re only here together now crying for the other…the one we knew before we forgot that our lover never really leaves. The one we pray for. The one we die for. The one who starts the clock. The one who stops time’s menacing pace…

the one whose face is everywhere with arms held out to me unmoving. The one I saw when you walked into the room…

and yesterday is a bridge and you are the one I cannot cross. I’m stuck in your halo like a flower in your hair. Amusing and confusing the lips that spread words. I have so much to say with these thoughts I arranged as I sit by the window and I stare at my life…

then she smiled and said, “your time’s up, come give me a hug.”

I’ve been around the block and I drove and drove and drove. I could not get her out of my head…
“She’s got me by the balls. I’m a worm in sacred territory”

no, this can’t happen again…

no, I’m not trying to make you laugh although your tongue is wagging…no, I’m not trying to break your fall although you need my cushion…

we could talk like this forever…

how you got hurt, how I got saved..but does it really matter? There isn’t a heart that’s big enough, not enough love in the world -to tell you that you’re everything I ever wanted and nothing I could ever have…

because God is a burden to me with expectations far too high…

so I’m sitting and waiting for his stock to go down and I’ll let you know when I’m rich enough to be immortal. I’ll let you know when I’m free enough to be myself…

as love waits in hiding like a germ.

Sharada Devi

this curse is nasty

I have this special power where I can brainwash people -even from a distance and basically bore into their mind until nothing is left inside of them but thoughts of Me. It’s happening now isn’t it?? be honest. Really though it’s an astrological configuration and I en-trance people to do my bidding- I’ve got my bitches hypnotized everywhere thinking of only me, totally enchanted and bewildered by my voice in their head- with nothing left inside but me and my ruthless and thorough seduction. You know I’m good at it right? That I know what you’re thinking and no one else does- that I understand you when no one else does- that I know exactly what you need to feel complete- etc etc etc-blah blah blah – DUH! It’s called s special power!

In fact, Bhagavan Das says I’m just like Wonder Woman – remember her? Or should I say remember him? (pre- Sharada Devi as they say) BD is certainly the product of my Wonder Woman power-  you’ve seen it- you know you have -in the videos we make he can barely get a word in- in daily life all he does is stare at me- praise me…I go, “Why do you keep staring at me it’s weird” (like I don’t know why- right) and with wide eyes he says (totally brainwashed- can’t think a thought of his own at this point), “I don’t know why. I just like looking at you. You’re beautiful.” And I go, “Well please stop it, it’s creepy.”
All the while inside his head I’m like,   “Good boy, keep looking. You know nothing exists in your world but Me. Good boy. Don’t look away. Worship. Serve. I am the universe etc etc…”
(you know the material)

So therefore, he really has nothing left to say but how all knowing, spiritual, perfect and wonderful I am. And when people come around I’m like ALL he will talk about- I say, “BD, stop it, you’re embarrassing me….” Right.  (“Good boy. Mommy is God remember. Nothing and no one but mommy. Only mommy is real…keep it up…good boy….”)
His eyes are so glassy now- you noticed right? Didn’t you think that was a little strange? Like what happened to the man behind the glasses? DUH, I happened. It’s called a special power and I have it. Truly it’s the stuff genuine cults are made of.

I basically have this disorder or astrological condition where my mind can’t separate itself from others minds- and nobody can block me out of their head- so that’s how I always know what you’re thinking and when you’re thinking about me- like right now as you read this- your head is basically my open playground. And also you know what they say, “An idle mind is you know who’s playground” hmmm..so I thought it only fair that I warn you- due to my compassionate nature and all- not that it would even matter- it’s too late now. I bored in and set up shop already. Sorry.

And so I’m like this mega- mania- superstar – omniscient – cadillac sweetheart in everyone’s mind- or I’m the scary she- devil-with a golden pitchfork…I love role playing…

However you slice it, however you feel, whatever you say or do- if you love me- if you hate me – it doesn’t matter- I did it. I’m the conductor of the currents in your mind- almost like electro- shock therapy- it’s horrible but it might work- you can’t NOT have Sharada Devi mommy in mind – can you? Like ALL the time. CAN YOU??? And you don’t even know why- DO YOU???  I know. Its rough- I’m like a lethal weapon- and too, I like a little variety and so I spin you right round baby right round like a record baby right round – round and round …you’re dizzy in love aren’t you….? I want your love….3….2….1…

And so this is why I don’t like anyone (besides my bitches of course) because I can read their minds and they are lukewarm and mediocre liars. I mean, I can only brainwash a willing participant and maybe it’s not just simply brainwashing but actually it’s hypnotizing. I’m a hypnotist. And you my friend, are WILLING- That’s why I talk like I do sometimes- really soft and rhythmic- I’m totally controlling your mind- and then I stare at you all intensely- I’m rounding you up -I’m seducing your soul. ‘Be mine. Be mine. Be mine. It’s like a rodeo and I’ve got this golden lasso (just like Wonder Woman)

No I didn’t get lessons or anything. I told you it’s a special power. I was born this way- another thing is, if I pull out- it’s going to hurt. You’re going to miss me – remember how I said men (and some women too) go mad around me and I didn’t know why- I lied-
I do know why – it’s like trying to get someone off of crack cocaine- it’s not easy- I’m the equivalent to crack if that makes all this easier to understand- a hard physical addiction- you’ll be jones-ing for me- you’ll beg me to get back inside- you’ll say, “Come back, I can’t think without you…”
…and you know what? You’re right.

And you’ll return to me all that I’ve intended you to- and you’ll tell me everything that I want to hear- and why is that? Because I told you to say it! This is so fun!  I do feel like I’m kind of breaking the law somehow though- like a peeping Tom or those guys who flash with raincoats on- or those guys who have really expensive binoculars who live in high rise apartments and watch the women undressing in the apartments across the way…

This curse is nasty I’ve got to say…

hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
Sharada Devi