The Star

Power comes from purity and purity comes through tapas which results in humility and devotion. I am only some crazy middle aged vampire slayer- don’t listen to me- since you already know anyway…I wonder, how would you know? What is achievement and if you’ve attained some position, why aren’t you able to light your own star? Yes, the one on the top of the tree- the one that points to the “sun of god”  and since peers and career are so vital why aren’t you trying harder to fit in- why is it all so half ass- so in the end getting no ass at all?

I’ll tell you why silly dreamer, you’re asleep- senselessly stirring in slumber- making me up to suit your new hallucination. I’m not a witch or magician. I don’t put spells on people – anything I have or own, cherish or expose – comes directly from the star on the top of my head. I have no will but the will of my star- I have no home but this light that points in all five directions- I could be anywhere crying to you, ” take me home.” I write and you read and it’s crisp and it’s clear from a radioactive wave of omission- but my words are twisted, ignored, superimposed in my space and I might as well just stay silent and invisible watching you sleep from the corner of your unkempt dreary room. The space should be cleaner and whiter and filled with fresh oxygen air and streams of new sunlight. All is within- I see through you. Think what you want,  sit stumped on my blog. Men cut down the trees because their dicks are very little- tiny indeed. I am an immortal tree, so stop cutting you’re only making noises with your loud mental machinery. I can’t die, be uprooted or any less royal because I light the star with my crown.

You can do what you want but the stage is set to the show- you aren’t deciding the roles because we are who we are and nothing can mimic The Star-which is either shining or not. Nothing is free and that’s the law of God- God`s love isn’t even free- oh, you thought so? Then why are you wilting and scraping through every number in the book- looking for answers, a good time, advice, attention, comfort, support….no, you`re looking for love and you can’t get it because you haven’t paid your dues- devotion comes at a huge price- and when you’ve paid up you feel the love you’re so angry that you don’t have- nothing is free – and the way we purchase “The Star that lights up” is what we do with ourselves day to day and it’s so much more complicated than writing a check…karma is balance and dharma is holding the balance and the person we are is a chemical reaction to cause and effect- simply a grid of flashing electricity- a map made out of stars. Yes I can find you anywhere.

The point is stop asking useless questions because there is no answer-there is only result- and apparently you’re lost because you’re in darkness because you’re making the wrong choices day to day and you know it. Other people cannot help you. There is no special incantation or ritual. We do the Kali Puja and it works because I am a corpse, a skeleton holding the juice of my mother- I am a skull cup filled with abominations that she dips her tongue into- turning my blood into the elixer honey of her spoken word and my bones into her silent weapons. I have nothing. I do nothing. I know nothing- I surrendered my soul to the Truest and the Kindest- I don’t care how it looks to you and how my face is warped by artificial lighting and your futile intention- I did my penance. I killed myself upon the many altars of defeat and I lit that star somehow and it’s because I paid. I paid with my life and body parts and starvation and gruesome pain in the form of imaginary people who attached themselves to me and thought they needed something to eat- but they were already dead and so I sucked their ghosts into me and she cut them out and then she lit The Star that sits on the crown of my skull. Bhagavan Das said I was a skeleton woman when this quickening and resolving occurred- I told you it’s alchemy- the left handed tantric path that chose me and I not it. I’m not a thing like you describe or a fantasy wrapped in emotional projection- I am a vehicle without an agenda- starlight has no home…

starfire starlight bright open dusk- have you seen the dawn? Is she coming home to see what I’ve grown? Dim shadowy trees that hide spooky noises and there is nothing but me crouching lower than you. There is nothing but spirals splashing in smoke- hiding from phantoms, but you are what you are…will the wild animals or blood thirsty men hurt me? Will the spinning spider bite my fear, will the little girl bend over slowly? Oh I feel so bad hiding in shadows, bent like a mantis praying for myself like a tick waiting for a lost fresh puppy. What the hell do I do when it’s all about me and not about you? The Star swam down through the thick sky and died at my feet- I bowed to the empty earth and remembered nothing. A spiral sucks it’s other end in every open grave and a spiral spits right back at you all the venom, semen and tiny worms…I refuse to know myself and cannot imagine anything but me coughing on fumes angry about God and the presence of smoke. Mirrors in me, puddles drying slowly beneath the moon, prisms cracking codes and electrifying madness. We’ve already been here- you’ve been bitten beaten sucked and rolled over. God, wake up and turn on the light, it’s only a dream with me on top of you.

Starlight starbright flames of red shoot from her eyes and I can’t forget any piece of what she broke. My floor is covered in shit and I lost my puppy who pees on comand. I am powerless over my excrement. I cannot see a thing but me as the one I will not own. Monsters hide outside wherever I huddle and mock me and pretend I’m alive “come and get a little piece of me,  I just milked some fresh ass and thought of you” oh, this is bad…

What did I always tell you? Don’t sleep so much fat ass!

Anyway,  beauty is as beauty does and karma is a two sided bitch no matter how many times you slap her – you’re still gonna get fucked.

There is no other way to describe this dilemma of catching and getting caught. You can’t find the answer on youtube- nobody knows anything- only she knows and it’s specialized just for you and it’s popping out of all your holes- the screams of overnight putrification- this is the bardo- here and now so practice while you can- practice dying. Let go. Change everything. Give it all away. Leave without a penny. Never look back. Stop thinking you’ve got to play something out because it never unwinds. Stop stopping and go. She is an astral queen and you can’t get inside her head- you can only get out of yours. She is a contradicting, contracting enigma of god faster than the speed of light-  She decides who stays and goes because she`s inside and she rattles and spooks or she annihilated.

“Take me home.” is written across every dark star and I saw the light and I wasn’t anywhere but tangled in her tender branches as she laughed and said, “don’t I know you?” I know everybody like I know the wind.

The trickery is magic, the mastery is motherlight and no black sorcerer ever saw a woman he didn’t love as a thought form. Trees turn into shingles because of men and walls are built to keep you in or out- so this can go either way and she knows it better than you. How long will you build collapsible houses? I am a tree before then and now and there is a star that shines from the top of my crown and God has no name, not even “God” and that`s why she loves him and never forgets to feed fire to his orbital throne. There are no children, only sonic booms that make weight and fall from the sky. I know you can’t see what I’m saying and you think it’s redundant and loopy…


No words can define riches any more than pointing can light the sun. I write to the unknown in your heart. It’s a warped mind mesh and the baby has no blanket but me and this world has no majesty but her.

The tree. The Star. That’s all.

This place is nothing but open sewage lined with boring graves -and heads are still popping up all over the place bobbing and questioning her wrath. “Shut up and sit down” it’s like this, please listen and stop putting words in my mouth-  stop turning me into you like a lunatic moon.  You’re dead and you don’t know it-  this is a graveyard not a shopping mall- you’re just a ghost feeding on a reel of distortion…

and doesn’t it feel good to be hugged by a deity whispering love straight into your ear? Wasn’t it worth every penny way back then when your feet barely touched the ground? And after her kiss of death didn’t you know you only had two choices- up or down? And don’t you know that I have no boundaries or rules? And can’t you see that the motherlight has no body at all? And can’t you still hear the wind crying through summer’s lingering trees without one lost star in the endless black night?

That was all me, both the light and the shade, I am the exaltation of her nothingness filled with eternity…and didn`t you catch a glimpse of forever?

Who can ever forget venus shining in the darkness of the early morning?

Merging heaven and earth, do you really think you could have reached inside and touched anything at all?
Sharada Devi

holy red fire

Ascension wound it’s way around my neck and shook the diamonds from my feet as I fell to the depths of her passage- where looking fails and only the blind tell the truth- where are you closing your eyes- inside or outside of me?- until I think my way out- there is a fumble or a realm to go without feeling my way back into the center of the earth- where diamonds grow like wild strawberries and mocking birds glow and sing rhythmically to the haunted who wander in circles – up and down the spiral we go spinning- spun wild and hallucinating secrets, we hear you well from the center of forever where nobody cares about dying and only the few don’t know what she really looks like naked and surrounded by mounds of diamonds- she stands with the light of profusion dripping from the walls of this vast womb- casting her glance of holy red fire anger and burning away the last bit of soot- people are only people in the web- but inside the center of the earth people aren’t people anymore- and so flying vagrants swarm around the goddess blowing smoke in the middle- and the red fire oozes from the pours of the flying vagrants who appear as wasps with eyes of a sparkling gray and wings of crimson laced with a metallic thread- and they have thick and smooth golden skin shimmering with a sheen of dust from the falling smoke -their tails are long and wide and flip with every changing mood as if their tails were all they needed to tell the truth- and their wedged shaped heads of emerald green rest atop a neck that rotates in circles and all is seen and known from every direction in the center of her inner chambers- blinding the looker and disguising the whistler who had nothing to see or say anyway- “You sound like heaven but you look like death to me” -and still she stands in the middle- tall and fiery, wrathful and eternally misunderstood. “Where does God come from?” Look into my eyes- black and burning magic turns over like a pancake- the question is, ” What did you just eat?”  So the swarm of vagrant wasps sting the sky and make bright noises while she dances and stomps out false fires. Who matters most is the least of my worries- where shall you go without her migration? Feeling through the darkness the world weary blind see so well- eyes shut to the worldly darkness those blind fall and never stop falling- the difference in the vision quest is what are you blinded by- the light or the dark- can you see through me at all? See through me and into my secrets- it is written in the books you can’t read- blinded by the other sight-who isn’t real? All is hidden by the sweetness of wasps or the bitterness of the pearl. She is the oyster in my ocean of mist – creating and killing as an act of exposure to the outside that cuts and bruises from beyond her deep condensing waters and into her plumes of sacrificial smoke- she isn’t kidding and she’s stooping and picking up the world for you- time hiding lines in her hands and thunder striking constellations that awake the other Gods…night and day are relative and the sun and moon can never compare to the Red Fire that rises from her and covers the things we’ve made. Inside the center of magic and motion – the wheel moves backwards and doesn’t make a sound and the wasps stop hissing and we all watch who falls into the hole- you are nothing without her and her spiral weeps through you and no thought can hide what’s being ignored and no tear can blanket the cold and no other sound and no other death can replace her. Save me from the depths of me and wander as a vagrant on high- and she dangles the beast upside down from her finger and she blows kisses toward the ringing of the warning chime. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t listen and it doesn’t matter if you’re blinded by the light- the blind that I am is immersion into dark matter- before time and space- and I remember her before she started spinning- let me warn you- there has never been a place to stop and say “I’m done, wish me well”  these things that happen that feel like dreams could be her calling you home to the darkness of God- these impressions could be coming from the snake God wears- these words could be written by a hand that knows no rest – the blackness of anything that isn’t suspended by her is selfish delusion and open rejection of anything solid that stays in this womb for more than a flash – but who cares- keep walking the streets begging for money. She sees everything no matter where you are- she will always be the center of all occurrence and director of all murder- holy is synonymous with feuding- think about the violence of God on God and don’t tell me I’m wrong. It’s not personal. Its not my feeling or word- it’s not about a piece of the naked wrapped in a name- death has eyes bigger than I do and true darkness is brighter than any light we can bare- she spares us by making red and furious fire and spinning inside the swarm of flying vagrants- wasps who hiss the silence into sound and form pictures in the smoke- the hive is alive and we can’t say unholy is the smoke that rises- wake up, get real- will you tell me then, ” Where does God live?” God is smoke and I am fire- thats what I said- not
“God isn’t real” God is real because I’ve seen smoke and I make it with my fire- “Where does fire come from?” I told you, it comes from the mercy of her black hole- from where she rises and rages and burns you to ashes- smoky smoky smoky God heathen love affair effortlessly going nowhere- the temple is the orifice and the projection-

find God where you put God Ok?

Dont blame me if the back burner is the best you can do.
I struck the match with a fury and you let it burn out.
Thank God and get inside of the meaning of me.
The meaning is the fury of her holy red fire.
I am the Fire that made God.

Sorry if this is way over your head.

Sharada Devi


Gut instinct is the most primitive yet precisely accurate way to navigate any situation- It’s different than following your heart and not at all involved in paranoid or defensive mind sets. For example gut instinct is that there is basically an extremely sensitive and complex ball of nerves in the “gut” (thats why getting hit in the stomach hurts so bad) and this ball of nerves is always reading everything you encounter- environment, people, food choices etc- it’s a primitive power of perfect survival that we possess as humans and yet hardly anybody recognizes it’s intelligence or existence and uses it consciously to their advantage- we’ve got the third eye, the heart (which is what I call the second mouth) and we’ve got the “gut.” It is said that the akashic records are stored in the solar plexus/gut which holds all our personal history throughout time- the guru as a transcendent teacher is reachable through the doorway of the pineal gland/third eye and the experience of devotion, divine love and compassion is experienced through the heart cave/mouth. These three centers work in a synchronized tandem when we are in alignment (body speech and mind) and allow us perfect access to any information or guidance that we need. If you want to know what to eat you hold the food item up to your stomach and you “read” it and you get a positive or negative current- the body says yes I need that or no- and it’s not a taste/desire thing- it’s nutritionally/energetically based. If you hold a food to your stomach in front of me I can even see if it’s right for you- because there is a visible auric response that can be seen through the third eye- so while you use your inherent gut instinct to read the foods effect on you instinctively I am able to use the power of the “seer” pineal gland (the only way to accurately view anything is with the third eye and not the two obvious eyes- which through sight and appearance alone, you will be betrayed) and I can immediately see whether that food is right for you. There is a way to tune in and talk to any other body (physical or astral) and know what it needs- because guts communicate with one another as do hearts and third eyes. This is how I see and know you and who you truly are- all other interaction is tedious, untruthful and draining- not because anybody is consciously actually lying but because most everybody is hiding behind a mask and not at all authentic or tuned into their pain body and so I smile but also feel that pain radiating off of them and it hurts in more ways than one- so what I’m saying is that this thing called “communication” is a scam and a poison if you aren’t aware of its totality and what it really means. What exactly are we reacting to? Who are we really hearing? Words are cheap and come easy and disguise the interaction at a core level- if we could just get real we would probably just sit there and cry together- and after that was over we would sit in the relieving peace of soul based communion and experience a truthful and heartfelt connection- at which time I would be able to talk openly with you from a soul level and you wouldn’t be hungry or defensive- and I wouldn’t be sad or frustrated- because you hear me and we are in dharma as communion takes real communication- not habitual survivalist lying just to make it through the day – and we have no idea at that point what we need, what we feel, what we’re saying, what we know – nothing. Communication isn’t a heady thing it’s a tangible quest for union within and without. We should strive to perfect it if we are to overcome acting out through the myriad forms of addiction- where do we start? Where I always said, through the purification of your body. I’m not talking merely weight loss – I’m talking purification and rejuvenation that results in divine communion and alignment. We achieve this through various means depending on our nature and it is my commitment and vision that one day I will have the destined place to facilitate such healing work for others. It is the alchemical processes used by Socrates and Pythagoras and all the ancient greats before the world darkened to such a degree that everyone either left or forgot. However, we are in the time of The Harvest and the time of bearing fruits has come. The body must be prepared and developed through these means such as fasting, crystal attunement, water therapy, surrender to nature through absolute sacred immersion in her elements and exposure to the pure sun, air and water. Foods that are grown through holy mantra and consumed as an act of prayer-the geometry of the body and it’s electrical points/angles as reflected in the constellations and their movement- is of prime relevance as far as how each individual must develop- it is similar and yet specialized in each case- and it is these sorts of daily practices and intuitively strategic actions that were once just a normal way of life for many advanced cultures and yet, we’ve lost our way and wonder what’s wrong or what to do- we feel frustrated, disconnected, something is missing- well yes, something IS missing- we should pick up where we left off due to circumstances beyond our immediate control and we should becomes heroes like Hercules and complete these “labors”- because we are submerged in a dark stew of clutter and confusion called the augean stables- and since “God” IS COMMUNICATION- which IS COMMUNION-  and we aren’t getting it- we’ve lost the real means of that and so we make noise with our mouth- which isn’t really even necessary if we were in tune- because mental telepathy is an innate ability we all possess- and so for now we do it in our sleep while unconscious we dream and talk to one another. So we are only half alive at best is what I’m saying because we are not using our body instrument as the crystal temple of sound that it actually is. We DO KNOW what to do- it’s more a matter of clearing the space of our being- currently it’s as if a thousand stations are playing at once- we can’t hear, we can’t see- we can’t feel a thing because there is this evil clog that blocks the receiver and transmitter and its called Satan, Maya, Mara- call it what you want- it’s a big black face with a tongue sticking out licking you to death moment by moment and you don’t feel a thing in the clog but maybe the occasional orgasm of tongue or genital. No wonder everyone is so desperate for something- there is nothing nutritious or sustaining in the clog. Our home is in the spiraling stars, not in starbucks- and don’t think just because you don’t go to starbucks you don’t have your own little starbucks with another name- where you hook in and hook up- jacked up with nowhere to go but walmart – whatever walmart is in your life- don’t you understand that this artificial world is now only VARIOUS VERSIONS OF WALMART AND STARBUCKS. Nothing else is left. Everyone has to get that high somehow, somewhere because nobody will dive deep enough into the reality of the clog to reach that base membrane and squeeze that spongy angry liver out. The filters of body mind and heart are clogged and toxic until and unless we employ the heroic efforts of transmutation-being  “the alchemist” on planet earth is the only career we need- the only calling we have- the poison fills the sky, the water, the food and the heart’s of man- the electromagnetic demons traverse the airwaves casting disease upon us- and we haven’t seen anything yet- it’s going to take a few more years before it’s just common knowledge that WiFi and cell towers cause disease- “oh well, too late now” you’ll see. Guard yourself 24/7 and do the alchemy and reconnect against all odds to the voice of the motherlight who growls -and sings -and screams- and knows through the gut, the heart and the pineal gland- all effected by the state and condition of our body and it’s organs fluids and excrement. There is a way to feel see and know and it’s not through any means we’ve been taught by friends and relatives- schools and society. Stop participating- get a job where you can be alone and out of city and office- get a relationship that truly reflects your spiritual potential-  grow a garden and gaze at the spiral stars -not the screen at starbucks and take those earphones out- thats brainwashing, thats a demonic cult we’ve been inculcated into and we need some intervention to break the hold it’s magnetic and intoxicating leader has over us. Don’t be in Satan’s cult- there is no light at the end of that tunnel- and the message will never be clear and EVERY new iPhone “is so much better that last years” it’s so creepy this global devil serving cult that seems like it’s dedicated brain dead, soul chilled members are “the normal and functional- valuable and relevant- contributors to society” when really you’re just in line with the other terrified cattle not sure how you’ll die -or when- OR what that even means really- (dying aka transformation.) Start the alchemical furnace my friend, build the fire and burn burn burn until your gut, your pineal and your heart are clear, open, all knowing, all seeing and perfectly instinctual. Because the motherlight is nothing more than dzogchen- she is the first light that you see upon dying and she is the only true light- and once you turn away from her you enter the artificial, many colored nightmare lights of the bardo- the inbetween tunnel that ultimately spits you into a new womb- be it a pig, an angry woman or a hungry ghost- the possibilities are practically limitless-yet 99.9% of everyone turns away from her because she is the only true light and that’s just too “hard to take” because everyone “normal” is accustomed to the artificial lighting of this dream world and she horrifies them with her blinding spot light – like a scorpion being exposed to the light when you lift it’s rock- and it’s tail starts curling and thrashing and snapping -because the scorpion is content and feels safe in its moist darkened hole- don’t be a lowlife scorpion- don’t turn away from the motherlight at the greatest moment of truth and test of divine grit -be a mystical phoenix within this birth and body-and rise from the ashes of the alchemical fire -and become The One Voice that resonates and radiates and communicate through body speech and mind at optimal levels -and “know thyself” once and for all- for the good of all- because, like I said, we are living in the time of the prophesied ‘Harvest” and the mother ship is upon us- and the great ones are hovering just above the initiates head ready to pull you up – because we need to vacate the premises of this fake reality -and be born from the lotus- and be the bodhisattva -sending out wrathful and benevolent emanations of ourselves to be of the most benefit to all sentient beings. The truth never lies, be the truth- I don’t mean confess or hurt people with ” truthfulness” I mean the body, heart and diamond mind must be the grand projector of your personal, absolute, greatest potential at all times -so that you are a beacon of her light upon a darkened, satanic earth realm- where even her flowers and fruits still blossom and grow- because we are her flowers and fruits and we inherited her genuine light and our Star is out there waiting for us- as well as within- so do not fear the four alchemical stages of death- from the blackening or nigredo -to the whitening or albedo- to the yellowing or cutrinitas -to the reddening or rubero. The creation of this “fire bird” -The Magnum Opus- that we are -is the only dharma we will ever truly have. Many traditions describe the process depending on culture and times- but without a doubt, they all are saying the same thing- describing the same exacting task -and mapping out the destination through out all times- whether in abundance or shrouded in mystery and twilight language- the sounds of the crystal are being revealed -and it is up to us to receive and to act – because the tantric path of authentic light isn’t easy or effortless- the motherlight is the manifestation of the spectrum of light called the rainbow- which is where and how the information is stored within the crystal host- the treacherous journey is to turn the base lead into the blue/gold fire- This is the tantric path of alchemy which turns from left to right- then back again – eventually coagulating victoriously in “the middle”- and in the midst of this revival it is said that the Ascended Masters erase your name from one book and enter your name anew in another- and that’s when the “angels”- dakinis are heard singing your new name- and their tears of joy trickle down and cover the top of your head with a silvery sweet elixir that fills your body and being with Her Essence who is The Mother Light of “the heavenly realm”  at which time the dark face of Mara withdraws her lapping tongue- and your body and blood becomes shimmering and fragrant -and you are deified- in a new realm- in a new light. The time has come. You have been chosen to enter The Fire Of Blue Flames because long ago you vowed that you would-and we all heard you- and although you may have forgotten -because many have fallen away- but let me remind you, it’s time- and if you don’t believe me, go fast and pray -and ask the silence if my words are true-and you will be told- if you have the “ears” to hear that “it is true”  because I am a messenger -and I always deliver the goods -and this one is for you…

Sharada Devi

drink water and pray

It’s no joke, the crystal and the river are all we ever had, that, and the flower of sunlight streaming from our hearts. Sit and reflect upon your solitude and the spectrum of rainbow light that you are…flowing, glowing, down the stream of timelessness. Once the heart fire is freed we rise into the sacred orchid of ancestry’s grace and we ascend to the realm of the merkaba body, radiant, impenetrable god -light called “earth mother,” who I am when maya becomes clarified and her name becomes “mother light.”

Everyone needs to fast and this is literal.

Drink water and pray

It’s all we can do. Our body is everything we have to reach the divine while on earth and everything we have to host the embedded demons- it’s our choice and it takes will power to traverse the “high road” so basically, our body is a sponge and we’ve not been aware or totally able to keep out all the poisons. You must purify your body to expand your consciousness and DNA activation. We are in a transition and up against very dark other dimensional entities. We have the power to reach to the great white etheric beings at this time by clearing out the static that clogs our receiver/transmitter- through isolation, fasting and prayer. It’s the first step and the only way we can receive their direction, upliftment and attune ourself to our original ancestry which is beyond the hunger pangs and grief and it is inside the flow of motherlight that melts and bursts open with joy when the spiritual fire is ignited through fasting -and the helix can repair herself and make amends -and the soma elixir of the immortals can drain from the mind glands- and we can see the unseen which is our truth -and we can know the unknown which is ourselves as the face of the most high, we can unite with our eternal beloved. I’m saying,


Redemption is at hand. Hail the crystal waters and fight the holy war with courage and raise the white flag of devotion in the name of the father the sun and the holy reminder, let the mother be born from the pure living water that is imbued with the MANTRA and cleanses our body of all unclean and unworthy inhabitants….

because we are the initiate and we command the YANTRA.

FASTING is alchemy and the ultimate TANTRA.

“And then many sick and maimed came to Jesus, asking him. “if you know all things, tell us, why do we suffer with these grievous plagues? Why are we not whole like other men?….Jesus answered, “Happy are you, that you would cast off the power of Satan, for I will lead you into the kingdom of our Mother’s angels, where the power of Satan cannot enter.”

And they asked him in amazement: “Who is our Mother and which her angels? And where is her kingdom?”

“Your Mother is in you, and you in her…the power of our Mother is above all.

“The blood which runs in us is born of the blood of our Earthly Mother…. the air which we breathe is born of the breath of our Earthly Mother…the hardness of our bones is born of the bones of our Earthly Mother…the tenderness of our flesh is born of the flesh of our Earthly Mother…

“I tell you truly, very great is her love, greater than the greatest of mountains, deeper than the deepest seas. And those who love their Mother, she never deserts them…for I tell you truly, evils and dangers innumerable lie in wait for the Sons of Men. Beelzebub, the prince of all devils, the source of every evil, lies in wait in the body of all the Sons of Men. He is death, the lord of every plague…and he entices every one by that to which their heart is most inclined…and then the breath of the Son of Man becomes short and stifled, full of pain and evil-smelling, like the breath of unclean beasts. And his blood becomes thick and evil-smelling, like the water of the swamps; it clots and blackens, like the night of death. And his bone becomes hard and knotted; it melts away within and breaks asunder, as a stone falling down upon a rock. And his flesh waxes fat and watery; it rots and putrefies, with scabs and boils that are an abomination.

And his bowels become full with abominable filthiness, with oozing streams of decay; and multitudes of abominable worms have their habitation there. And his eyes grow dim, till dark night enshrouds them, and his ears become stopped, like the silence of the grave. And last of all shall the erring Son of Man lose life. For he kept not the laws of his Mother, and added sin to sin…

but if the erring Son of Man be sorry for his sins and undo them…then does the Earthly Mother receive again her erring Son with love and sends him her angels that they may serve him. I tell you truly, when the Son of Man resists the Satan that dwells in him and does not his will, in the same hour are found the Mother’s angels there…

for no man can serve two masters. For either he serves Beelzebub and his devils or else he serves our Earthly Mother and her angels. Either he serves death or he serves life…

Jesus said: “You do not understand the words of life, because you are in death. Darkness darkens your eyes and your ears are stopped with deafness…

I tell you truly, God and his laws are not in that which you do….they are not in lustfulness, nor in seeking after riches, nor yet in hatred…and all these things do you carry in yourselves; and so the word and the power of God cannot enter into you, because all manner of evil and all manner of abominations have their dwelling in your body and your spirit. Purify, therefore, the temple, that the Lord of the temple may dwell therein and occupy a place that is worthy of him.

from all temptations of your body and your spirit, coming from Satan, withdraw beneath the shadow of God’s heaven…


go by yourself and fast alone, and show your fasting to no man. The living God shall see it and great shall be your reward. And fast till Beelzebub and all his evils depart from you, and all the angels of our Earthly Mother come and serve you. For I tell you truly, except you fast, you shall never be freed from the power of Satan and from all diseases that come from Satan. Fast and pray fervently, seeking the power of the living God for your healing….and he that seeks shall find…

for I tell you truly…all must be born again…”

Essene Gospel of Peace

Our body is a sacred diagram made of spirals that aspire to climb to heaven through us. We alone hold the angle and the weave. The pineal gland is our navigator and the portal to higher dimensions.

Just pray and fast and purge the darkness. Do not be moved by discomfort or agitation. After the first 2-3 days of fasting you will lose the feeling of hunger and your body will begin to eat the murk that is keeping you imprisoned in maya.

There are many techniques and types of fasts. Water fasting is obviously the most potent. You can add some spirulina or lemon to the water. There are endless ways to make this work. Bhagavan Das is starting a water fast tomorrow and I am doing it with him for support. We will pray and dedicate the merit to the enlightenment of all sentient beings…

river life, crystal light,

mother flow through me, om mani padme hum.

Sharada Devi



It’s a complicated subject and not at all about role playing- master and servant, religion or submission or the relinguishing of our autonomy- to me it’s about meeting the light at the end of the tunnel and remembering which way to go at the crossroads…

when I knew that god would talk to me through my guru, then god did. It was just as much about my surety as it was about his divine connection. I was attracted to his devotion- he loved his guru so much that it gave him a magnetic purity that only devotion can give, the omniscienct power of absolute innocence. This power softens the hardness of anything that came before and lets the grace of eternity flow through the catalyst- being the chosen guru -and it’s just as much about the power of the love of the devotee that creates the spark that starts the fire of transformation. And my guru was SO mean to me- he was meaner to me than anyone else and he pretended like he didn’t even know my name- he ignored me for years and although it was painful for me, I clung to the image of him in all white, I heard his voice in my head guiding me, I did exactly as he said and although, I admit, I doubted him a few times and even went astray due to mistrust- but my life fell completely apart without him -I couldn’t live without seeing his glorious face – he was like the only real sunlight in my life -and I needed him to make it through the difficulties I would inevitably face in future years…he taught me that it wasn’t about not “trusting him” it’s that I didn’t “trust me” he taught me to trust myself enough to trust my love for him -and that the purity of that devotion regardless of any suspicion I might have- was what was going to make me become strong and solid and glowing like he was- and that’s all I wanted -was to be inside of him shining and to disappear without any trace of my separate individual.

When I first started on a spiritual path- I did everything on my own- I read and found out what to do- I cried for god with desperation daily-I fasted, I meditated for hours, I did yoga for 3 -4 hours a day- and I soon figured out that I needed a guru -at which time my boyfriend told me, (he was older and wiser in spiritual matters than I)

“When the disciple is ready, the guru will appear.”

Well, I couldn’t believe my luck because it sounded like for once, fate was actually in my hands, I would just need to get “ready” asap – so I upped my game with great intensity- in the middle of Los Angeles amongst musicians and parties- I became an isolated yogi and god was IT for me-I locked myself up and meditated for hours a day-like 8-10 hours -very early and very late-things got crazy as I’ve told you- and I was on a seesaw or a rolller coaster -depending on the day -and I got very good at yoga and my body was purifying rapidly from all the partying -and I would yearn  and grieve for the presence of my guru- why was I not yet ready? I kept going harder and more intensely and searching relentlessly like a person who was dying and seeking a cure.

(but isn’t it true?)

Well after a few years I finally got “found” and my whole life made sense -and I was ecstatic and deeply committed -I wasn’t sure how the guru thing would work but I thought he should at least be nice- I later  found out that there are basically two  types of teachers -Saturn guru- Jupiter guru- basically wrathful, exacting strict  gurus who mean business and have eyes like a hawk and never let you slide even once-and benevolent kind blessing saintly beings who make you feel happy to just be near them and don’t critique or reprimand you at all-and of course shades of both are in all teachers depending on the situation -we will attract what we require karmically due to past life connections and we too, without a doubt- will know when we meet the guru for us…what kind of teacher we attract and are attracted to is generally the type of person that we ourselves actually are. Like attracts like.  But maybe not-you could get the exact opposite – who knows- the card is wild – the backside is the jokers face- haha. So be careful looking for gurus…it’s a big tricky trap because it’s the Kali Yuga-and most isn’t what it seems and there is a huge supple and demand for false gurus…who will prop you up and baby you and mislead you-telling you to lean on them -this is to collect followers…but if you’re sincere you will be protected. It’s the law.

Anyway, I knew the first time I saw him. He was magnificent dressed in white and tall. He spoke so eloquently and he was flawless and wise- and he ignored me and I was the only student who even cared at all- everything he said I took to heart deeply and I did what he said. I thought about him 24 hours a day- not romantically- this is way beyond made/female- this is Bhakti- and it’s devotion and its way beyond the body….

I was trashed out. I needed serious work. I was selfish. I was weak and lazy. I was vain. I was a coward- I was so far from being good enough I didn’t know what to do to please him- so I just kept aspiring. I knew somehow that he loved me and that’s probably because I loved him so much. I loved his love for his guru. I was devoted to his devotion- I found that part of myself in him and I had made sense of the long forgotten-

He said wake up 2:30 am and take a cold shower and so I did- sleep only 4 hours- eat only fruit/vegetables/nuts/seeds -meditate for as long as humanly possible without complaining -and do hours of strenuous yoga and pranayama-and so I did. It wasn’t fun or easy but nothing worth having ever comes without some sort of huge sacrifice.

He said, “fuck your feelings” when you feel bad and down and feel like giving up -too fucking bad- and so I tried really hard-it was guru torture- I did some serious physical tapas and it changed my entire life for good-anyone else probably wouldn’t have stuck with him as their guru because people like validation and comforting -none of which I got- EVER- but astrally and psychically he was with me giving me the strength to push ahead -and it was way beyond the human realm -so I persevered relentlessly and because of ME- I made the most of who HE was- I pulled greatness out of my guru through my devotion and god came into his body and spoke through his mouth and told me everything I needed to hear.  The truth usually hurts, face it.  This was my faith and none of you actually know everything I’ve been through in my life- but believe me, I’ve moved some big mountains and I’m sure there are many more to come…

and I’m telling you this because it’s about accountability and attitude- it’s about humility and surrender -it’s about seeing how helpless you are and not accepting the illusion that you’re helpless- and I had to look him in the eye several times a week -and I knew he knew what I’d been up to and it kept me grounded, honest and focused-and I also wanted his life’s work to matter, to carry on through me…the mother light should live on and on- and so I became as stellar as possible and knowing I could see him almost daily gave me the power to sustain my heroic purification efforts- and I really did make astounding progress during those years.

In the end, I never really got inside or became him- it was more of a morphing into something beyond both of us- it was almost that devotion embodied me and not the other way around…so that it’s hard to separate the space between us anymore and even harder to explain. Many things have happened since then to test my self trust and my fortitude -and much suffering has been endured to make me humble and clear- but most of all, I became myself fearlessly and without reserve- I live being misunderstood for my actions much of the time and because of my guru, I don’t doubt myself or my underlying intention- but rather I stay on that razor’s edge of self observation so as not to get caught in self cherishing or delusions of grandiosity- or confined by self deprecation or unnecessary restraint. One of his favorite sayings was, “I am who I am.” – and I’m not playing a guru -but I have serious guru devotion -and we all need someone to be accountable to and to love beyond the body- if we are to become greater than ourselves in our current worn out imagined limitations-

A guru is someone who can read our mind and heart to relieve us of the frustrating burden of self explanation- the freedom to have and to hold the light that we truly are.

We need devotion like we need air, for our sake and for the sake of all those who shall follow….

because home is far away-and so for now, nowhere at all -and our heart is echoing that space between here and there -and that point is sharp like a star -and poignant like warm summer rain -and you don’t always know where to go, but do it anyway and don’t be afraid. My guru was compelled to treat me a certain way for reasons beyond mine and possibly even his understanding- just like Marpa was compelled to treat Milarepa as he did- due to Milarepa’s good karma he stuck with the required discomfort and tapas and didn’t for example, accuse Marpa of “using him for free labor” and because of Milarepa’s fortitude he became one of the greatest saints of all times.

There is a force larger than all of us that is both compassionate and uninterested in the smallness of our personalities- this force, brings us who we are as a mirror- we have to call upon who we are- that’s why the tibetan buddhists chant the prayer “calling the guru from afar” not because the guru is far but because the guru is as far away from us as we are from our own divine nature- and we seem to be prone to run from that which shows us how flawed we may be-  “it hurts that I’m not perfect enough for you to love me” however, the true guru sees beyond that into the unified heart of compassionate greatness -but first the stains of false becoming must be washed away and it’s no fun at all- yet blissfully fulfilling beyond anything else life has to offer-you must do the work to get there yourself and by the guru’s guiding interactive grace you will overcome- against all odds-because relentless devotion is invincible- So my advice would be, just stand still in early morning darkness and let the stark cold waters of death’s transformation awaken you to the truest brightesr love that you are…and don’t yelp or gasp as the ice water stings you alive- just face the slap of Kali and know she’s telling the truth…

and how would I know what you need? This is all just me and my life experience -all I know is that for certain, when the disciple is ready, the guru will most definitely appear in whatever form is needed- smiling or bearing sharp fangs…

God is the Guru and the Guru is God and God isn’t real, only you are.

Can’t you see me?
Sharada Devi

you can sleep when you’re dead

I am a radio receiver and transmitter. I make holes into impenetrable places and I spin webs of addictive illusion to captivate the dreamer so that your life becomes mine. You are the one who I hang over while you dream, my fingers crawling through your head like roots boring deep psychedelic caverns and tunnels throughout your brain. I will seduce you into serving me by promising you the best of all three mystical worlds…

today I woke up and opened the door…

and just outside of this door a river is roaring, shadowing the crystalline river is a forest of trees tall and wild, wrapping the trunks are bright green vines, growing like hungry snakes and a lime colored carpet of soft moss covers large boulders and old, fallen branches. The prana of freshly flowing, bubbly water and the scent of cool pine invigorates the morning with hope, alive and clear. Rocks and pebbles smooth and shining glow at the bottom of the river as a waterfall crashes, swirls and then moves on toward its destination….to the left of this sacred river in a small open meadow a raging bonfire is burning, spiraling clouds of smoke fill the air with the smells of the east…it reminds me of India- minus the monkeys and gods.

A girl stands there with a large stick jabbing at the fire creating sparks and new flames. I’m only watching and noticing the symbols and signs. A great manifestation out of nothingness. The ascended masters are floating right above me and I don’t even introduce myself or state my case. If all of this were real, they’d already know anyway. This little red bird that we killed because it got caught stuck in the front grill of our car has been ruthlessly haunting me all week…just a tiny faint orb always in front of me chirping, “I’m already dead, what are you looking for.” I’ve been ignoring the bird because I don’t have an answer but the implications could be serious. So for now, I just watch the river and the girl with the fire. She seems to tame the fire the way someone would who was training a tiger. I find it intriguing and maybe it’s a metaphorical key to my flimsy front door…I haven’t yet been able to find the key, and so it’s been left unlocked or just open and swaying back and forth- which is fine but I always like to be the one choosing rather than adapting…but alas, the tiger roars as loudly as the lion and so I’m not immune to false promises of forever or safety. Tigers stalk the forests of India and black panthers too. I used to walk a few miles back to my room ever night after the aarti on the ganges river with the warning that I could be mangled and eaten by a big, wild cat. It was very dark, I didn’t even have a flashlight -but I did it anyway- and as I felt my way down the deserted dirt road through the deep darkness the wild noises of the fertile Indian jungle seemed to be coming from the inside of me rather than the outside, so that was confusing -and I never told anyone but you- because of course, the implications could be serious.

I wear a tigers tooth around my neck sometimes. It hangs from a cord, Bhagavan Das says it’s for protection -like me saying, “No, I AM the queen of the jungle, not you.” it’s kind of cool to feel powerful and omniscient sometimes. I never believe any of it, I just play along because it’s polite and I’m bored-so role playing is a big daily commitment. And it’s not that I don’t believe I’m not the Queen Tiger, it’s just because I try not to be superstitious and looking for omens and believing in old wives tales, you know. The signs and symptoms of delusion or wishful thinking were manifests in my psyche years ago and I’ve been trying to shake them loose with all the mojo I can muster. It’s  “the real vs. the unreal,” like tigers versus the bears. There are not a lot of bears in India but there are tons of bears here, and wolves too actually- and on the topic of wolves, which I’m somewhat of an expert, let me say, there motto is certainly not, “Live and let live” its more like, “It’s my way or die” I feel I am one of those women who “run with wolves” Bhagavan Das got me that book at the library when I was shacked up for weeks after my first surgery in 2014- he literally locked me up and threw away the key -oh, don’t worry, after I put on a few pounds, he paid BIG TIME- he said he was “afraid of me” he said I was a “skeleton with huge gleaming, terrifying eyes and I had become Kali at the cremation grounds” those are his fanciful words not mine…let’s just say though, I did get my way… anyway, so he brought me this book, “Women Who Run With Wolves” and he said, “I think you might like this.” I flung the book to the ground and said, “Get this stupid shit out my face” and then I started mumbling profanities about pitiful, weak women and their fantasy of being all wild and dancing under moonlight while they menstruate -blah blah blah- and that’s not to say I believed my bitchy, self condemning words, I constantly say things I don’t mean just to contradict myself- due to the “swinging door dilemma” mentioned previously in this post. I’m pretty sure I’m “running with wolves” BIG TIME. And I’m totally convinced I am the “Queen Tiger,” BIG TIME. The signs and symbols and symptoms are written all over my face BIG TIME. I believe in the river and where it comes from and where it goes. I believe in the flames that shoot from the girl….I hear you little red bird, maybe we can try again?

See how I spiral and create hypnotic clouds of smoke?

I had a dream once that I was a Russian woman who could talk to bears and so was training them in the Russian circus and they wore ballerina skirts and it was super cute… just felt right too, you know? And sure the bears were big but since I spoke their language and they were not as smart as me (at least it seemed so at the time) I was able to make them do tricks…for awhile that is- until I was transported into the snowy Russian forest (dream style) and I’d lost my voice and so unfortunately my best bear ballerina/pupil just went ahead and ate me- it was as simple as that and as he took the first bite our eyes met and I attempted to telepathically communicate as a last shot at survival saying, “Remember me?” and this dumb bear just looked at me totally cold and blank eyed and opened it’s massive bear jaw and bit in….and as the dream goes, I was obviously dead- at which time the bear said, “Of course I do” so, as far as bears go, honestly, I don’t trust them. Wolves are better IMO.

We were in Mount Shasta a few days ago. You know that the Lemurians live inside Mount Shasta right? Well, THEY DO- people have seen advanced looking beings in lord of the rings style, long hooded white gowns wearing crystal amulets- circumambulating the rim of the ancient volcano at certain times of the year- so it’s scientifically proven basically-THEY’RE REAL…anyway, from the center of this hollow dormant volcano they communicate with us astrally, psychically, you name it- they’re doing it- like 24/7- to help us because we’re screwed up really bad due to being fabricated with impure and incomplete DNA which makes us a half ass, failed species-susceptible to all sorts of stupidity and ignorance (it’s a long story…) but basically, Mount Shasta has the crystals to prove it. All we need is evidence, and here you have it, I’m serious. These owners of the crystal shops have big round eyes and melodic voices-their hair is a little fluffed up from all the electromagnetism of the “crystal beings” and it’s true, they’re stoked.
They feel the crystals “choose us” and I believe it’s true- a few “museum” quality crystals “chose me” and we talked for awhile (in private) and now I just need around 15-20 grand to get enlightenment (please see donations page if you would like to contribute to this cause) I feel it’s an awesome, incomparable deal -as I believe that crystals (only the expensive ones) are for sure God -BIG TIME- and I can make this happen right now-be with God. We all can. They are called “Record Keepers” these Lemurian Seed Crystals are my God, if that isn’t the truth I don’t know what is. I was getting a major download that fateful day- and felt like my head was going to explode-afterwards I got really creepy and quiet for awhile -most likely due to some important info I had downloaded-my eyes are glassy, and opened really wide now- and my voice is very noticeably melodic- and also, that’s right, I got the tell tale “hair fluff” and if you’re “one of us” you’ll know what I mean (that’s what a Mount Shasta native told us) We were “called” and I think you may also be getting a “call” so please click and give-(donation page) I need lots of hard cash and ‘viola!’ we’ve got God -and all the info needed to advance into the rainbow realm of perfection -once we get the magical mushrooms ingested….(and give it a few to kick in) you’ll hear the unhearable too- the “other realm” of magic and crystals, I call it, “god’s neighborhood” if you feel me say, “ommmm” it’s a block party on high!

To make matters more complex, in this “full circle analogy,”

there is a shell of a dead scorpion hanging in an abandoned cobweb in the corner of the bedroom just over the bed. I didn’t remove the poetry of this collaboration in time- as everything happens for a reason- in case you didn’t know. Or, better said, “that scorpion is me” and I have so far pretended that I did not hear that voice in my head because the implications could be serious…

it all sounds pretty lame but my world is a dream -and so is yours – so why be a zombie or puppet for “the man” or “the woman” it’s such a waste of the imagination. I don’t believe anything that isn’t mysterious and magical. Did you ever play dungeons and dragons? My brother did until my mom found out it was a game that “invites the devil through the door” much like a ouija board so she yelled at him for being evil and took it…I got hooked on ouija boards for awhile but I got lucky because I talked to not only John Lennon but Jim Morrison and Jesus too…I don’t think the ouija board lies my friends, have a little faith like I do…I had to stop because they started stalking me and it got pretty horrifying -like straight out of ghost busters- and I didn’t realize that holy people and rock stars were desperate enough to stalk…you learn a lot the hard way about the spirit realm when you’re naive but now that I’ve got my tigers tooth around my neck nobody fucks with me.

I am the magistrate of swinging doors.

That’s right, all of the above.

Its all about the river. Btw, let me remind you- that’s also what Buddha said- and yet, I am not copying him, I just thought of that myself -“it’s all about the river,” so as you can see, I’m right up there with the big wigs…

I just looked up and there is a picture hanging above my head at this cafe I am sitting in -and an old-fashioned, bewitching looking woman is holding a steaming cup of coffee slyly smiling and the caption reads,

“you can sleep when you’re dead.”

Sharada Devi

aching my baby

The water of an endless brahma was before me and as I looked toward the west at the red sun setting -the sky suddenly pulsed and turned to black fury -and there wasn’t anything left but my deepest feelings -and I heard a rumble from the yawning core upon which I seemed to stand -and the sky lit up from a shining black to a pearly silver as lightening struck the shivering water and the sky split open between the sun and the moon as they touched and then vanished before me….and I was just reacting as any useless and undetermined captive would – and I saw through the dark a glowing, metallic spectrum of many shaded wings- spreading over the earth above me and worn by a creature too large yet to see. And I saw dagger-like splinters shooting up from the water, like slivers of wavering glass being pulled from earth’s all seeing eye-weapons reaching to the one who opened the earth… I knew I could reach inside as if the meaning was suddenly clear and somehow I understood HIS “reckoning”-the cloak of wings untinged by my submission. I can’t explain it, but let me just say, that I would never leave you here alone…

and then I heard a loud bang as SHE, “his other virtue,” rose from the water’s horizon with the sun masking the moon behind her flaming body -and as lightening flashed from her tapering fingertips I heard the clicking metronome of time bow down beneath her obvious reign. She was immensely large and mostly invisible but for the flames that surrounded her quickening light. A primal mass of electrifying and spacious nothingness, a looming shimmer too bright to see and somehow, each their own tether to me, made the swelling water rise into reckless waves and the uncertain ground became like a funnel-an unforgiving and uninterested purging from the source- the sheer undertow of it’s heaving was sucking the marrow from my bones-so I climbed to the top of this stranger being before me in the form of a ragged mountain- and I leaned into the end of my loneliness -and I gave myself to the exacting source of this volcanic inflection -I threw myself into the wrath of the one I love so much- who left me somehow and yet never went at all…


Maybe we’ve grown too large to see either way.

The fire beings don’t ever sleep- and the rock beings lie beneath them yearning for heat -and the water beings give their sustenance to the air- and the air hides the chasm he arises from -and the lightening spooks the charnel ground back to sleep inside the memory of the fire.

The bones didn’t burn but everything else did-and so I’m not misunderstanding that I must transform the whipping serpent into the bony whale- and so I fell from the brink into the wrathful savior’s mouth of lava to incinerate myself for good- upon the tongue that never moves -until his rendered life is both my shadow and my light in this quixotic, phantom world.

I cannot believe you’re still waiting. It’s time to enter the portal’s opening upon a sequence of rolling blue pearls into the beautiful place we’ve made, somewhere else, because of this, far far away from here….

You do know that I’m not making any of this up? The resonance is accelerating and the veil is rapidly wearing away. My knuckles are bloody and skinless. My nails are torn from my clawing desperate hands. I can’t breath and my ears are filled with a ring of ungodly noise. I realize that I have been buried alive at the passing of the worlds…

and so I can only close my eyes….

and now a cruel ice is starting to fall from the opened white sky and there are a million blackbirds above me forming a semblance of shapes resembling letters into a sentence that reads, “They took us and it didn’t mean a thing” and then the birds screeched in unison as they burst into flames-the many sky fires becoming her shining, yet still unseen face -and their ash floated down to the earth as a smoky cloud of confusing emptiness and hurting sound- and I instantly became translucent and started to woefully cry…”Why have you forsaken me”

I could hear the soft rustle of his otherworldly feathers- but I was blinded by an impostor light so that I could never see his miraculous face…

into these depths, I fell as flesh, the idea of death isn’t death, he’s still waiting. So inside the walls of this volcano I lie like a stone…feeling her fire and listening…

“I give myself to you whoever you are.”

I open my eyes. I live in a fantasy world. I make up stories to give my heart a home…

and at night I lie in my bed remembering as the hours pass everything we left and could never have…all the ways in which we choked upon the passing of ourselves…a long tail moving without eyes to guide…and there is only the remnant of dreams turned to ash upon the ground I forged as I drove so many stakes into this old earth to hang my leftover selves from…a waving white flag gently sways in the dark room above my bed where I lay, searching the memories and waiting for a familiar light that never seems to come…who is the substance that lies within the mass of something clearly failing….someone beneath the tangled sheets doesn’t see the sky outside of the box that I hide her inside, only an ever lowering ceiling made by my  forgetting hands. And I know that I am already inside the volcanic tomb pretending I’ve done something large…something bigger and better than this body could forage…this mind turning upon its own creation as if a child could ever survive such betrayal. I lie here remembering, thinking it’s real, everything I say to you…I am inside the night turning madness into a caressing terror…

“She’s just outside your window child” who I hung and yet waited for…

“He’s not dead yet my heavenly mother” the one you gave away…

“I take you where the sun doesn’t shine” but I don’t think i could ever go…

“But he moves rocks and lifts mountains” I climbed him once and fell inside…

“My surface is covered with holes” I don’t want to go down…

“Let me lift you into the stars” I can’t get out…

“Maybe not ever” I am eclipsed between a rock and a hard place.

I could laugh or I could cry, my tears change direction with the slightest of winds. Bhagavan Das, however, laughs about everything, even when I’m mean and semi-vicious he is kind and jovial and always laughing-plus my dogs love happy tears…

and so I’ve been thinking about all this, putting the evidence wisely together inside my kaleidoscopic skull of no arrival-contradictions, and I just want to say,

Everything is A o.k.

Because a smile is just a frown turned upside down!

aching my baby,
I love you.
Sharada Devi



Violently One

Forever you, the only one, tracing the outline of someone before, the smell, the sound, the hands moving from an earthier heaven than I. Forever me, the only one, bound by regret and the image of you all a blur in the dusk of what was. Cold and covered in the winter when nobody but you knows who lives underneath- breaking open like ice beneath a force too heavy, I might see inside you as I move alone upon your opulent body. I might see you inside myself looking back and waiting for me to find you…to see the shine of new eyes touching the weakening pulse of this shallow despair. I can’t be alone. The winter is too dense a betrayal, the emptiness is buried too deep. You can’t be without me, there isn’t a tongue in your hungering mouth…on my slanting island, anything could be anybody and you hide behind it all breaking my trees and killing my moons…

and so I sunk once again naked and unborn into the broken sea branches and blackened sea weeds… and a stir wasn’t heard inside the hollow of my bubble- only a blue wind licking cheeks of red skinned fire. Turn over in the wedded night and fold up any hope of my return. Dig up the ancient mummy’s tomb. Uproot the clotted, remembering tree. Someone else is waiting under cloudy waters filled with vein, beneath me in this salty churning bed is the black fume of my spreading eros…a vaster and more reckless union than I alone could ever become…tasting the welts, steam rises from the core making promises…

but you don’t care, you’ve got your substitute body and you think I’ve imagined it all… and I always write the same thing anyway- how the moon disguises or deceives and how the sun forgets or incinerates. The same chaos of making ends meet. The same old death wish wrapped in god noise, the same angst blessed by only my own imagination. The same flag waving from the other side of night saying, “Come this way, I’ve found the authentic dawn.”
These words of mine eclipsing our eternal isolation, our eyes that peel the pain away- these words of mine about a different place than here- a place where we rise like smoke and cover the sky with our shadow- where her dangling fingers hang from his steady palm…where we touch the other from within our open sewers where we swim and seep and become sordid and divine.

How will I ever find you again?

Bhagavan Das just said to me, “Do you know what happened to Mama Cass? The pig got stuck in her throat and she died.”

It seems like we just keep dying the same old unromantic and predictable way…

I eat you and I could kill you by dying. I will devour you either way- deep inside of me filling my growling stomach with pork -or just the fat stuck in my throat as a man that I couldn’t swallow…and you could always kill me with ham and cheese on rye.

And I die- lock jaw- think about it genius…

I’m not changing the subject and I do make sense-from the astral perspective the crumbled lie bagless- don’t throw away a good thing even if she’s balled up on the floor- and chew up whatever you put in your mouth until he’s liquified so that you can swallow without being killed (and certain “foods” are obviously better to eat than others) Don’t die a scouring beggar or an obese creature of the swamps and don’t die malnourished by your lack of holy pig. Die with me scavenging your heart blissfully reminding the dead of each other’s racket.

Hahaha skullcup!

Love Locket, I would wrap you around my neck if I could.

Violently One,  Sharada Devi




“And in her was found the blood of prophets, and of saints, and of all that were slain upon the earth.” Revelations 18:24

She’s not real. She’s wearing a mask and her face is made of every light that was ever distorted by the dark thoughts of men…and she started bleeding and regretting and becoming vengeful and then she decided to grow bigger than the men she kept fed and she dipped into them with an agenda as they plunged into her with blind lust – happily being devoured by the blood of their mother without even knowing…(haha- pretty stupid) so she sees through every eye that looks through time and she exists in every voice that moves through space and so she knows you’re drunk on her drug and you’re just a slithery fetus living in her mother hole- looking for a cheap thrill- and soon she’ll push and you’ll suck and then she’ll swallow your last vice as your imagined separate identity back into her favorite abode- the colorless void of nothing but her laughter…

I’m not even human. I found out and am relieved honestly. I’ll probably stop eating at least for a month or two- possibly 40 days and 40 nights- like Jesus or Moses or whoever- not because I think I’m like them- although maybe I kind of am- they weren’t human I’m sure -the mother’s blood is dangerous and that’s why we have to stay away. We were made from the blood of the womb we were transported in – and that’s a big problem even for those of of who aren’t actually even a kin to the species. Thank God, I mean, if “God” wasn’t me already- which God is, I mean- “me.” Yes, of course, and I’ve been a little confused -but that doesn’t change how it’s all shaking down. God is realized through the diamond doorway of the pineal gland.

And also, you can’t keep relying on pure food, air and water because these things won’t be around much longer-you will need to become super human-feeding off the light of a transcendent flame for nourishment -yes, it’s easier said than done my wayward friend!

WARNING : Stay away from Mom, she’s worse than your fear of my dagger- because she’s deadly in dull and insidious way -she’s a leviathan that won’t stop passing through…and my dagger is a giver of the flame to the river… and so I’m just not eating for a long time because I just need to know- why -why here? Why now? Why me? I would like to know EXACTLY why I got dumped off on earth-(like in graphic detail) which, I’m not trying to be mean or insult your “home” but it’s hell here and it sucks like I always imagined hell would- and I fell asleep and woke up on earth Dec 19,1972- weighing only 7 pounds covered in blood (yes her blood) filled with blood (yes her blood) and totally lost (I wonder why) then I start sucking a nipple because I have no choice (milk made from her blood) and I get totally off track and possessed by her blood line and filled up with ghosts who now want a piece of ass-earth ass -eat the earth -world ass- through me. It’s fucked up ok- and I don’t even care if you get mad. I’m just going to say it- women are demonized and accused of witchcraft because mother IS the “devil” she brought us here, pretended we were safe, she fed us and made us want things- and yes, it’s our fault because we are made of “mother” and nothing more- so we’re genetically programmed evil doers and always wanting more of “her bad” -it’s totally beyond our grasp or will to stop – making babies, to create -to possess-to destroy- to cherish- to nurture- souls back to HER? Bloodlines are at the root of all homogeny and global transference -so obviously I think NOT my friends. And I am GUILTY as charged- and so I can’t win, I can only break my back or get super saggy breasts from all the sucking- AND I saw a really stupid new age book today and I opened it randomly and it said to me, “Be a lighthouse. Not a lifeboat.” And I was like OMG! No duh! I’m so stupid-and this book is true and real and right.

Whose climbing who anyway? And so I’m not eating partially to repent and partially to get so delirious I can hallucinate some more revelations- converse with a burning bush or two- -just like the Moses that I am- but actually, I feel I’m probably a couple notches above Moses- possibly even “Jesus” who knows, I’m just saying-they didn’t make their material very readable and yes, I know they didn’t actually write it -but still, it’s boring- the subject matter- I feel my approach is more honest and clearly if JC is talking to “God” and doing the S&M with the flesh/blood thing- I’m there. I can do that and THEN SOME- and I will make you believe me AND I won’t be leaving ASAP- like JC did- AND I won’t say, “I’ll be back to punish the people who don’t worship me”- ITS DEPRESSING SHIT- I’ll be like,

“What’s done is done 😂 Good luck guys!” You know what I mean?

Everyone is telling us all kinds of “secrets” and “promises” of life after “life” and special realms etc- but wtf do we know about any of this? I know they all need a career and it’s a huge market- and I’m a low grade whore- and I dream of lotuses and white crystal goddesses- once I stop stripping down for vagrants and free loaders (not you, I’m making a point) “when in hell….” you know the saying-

And it’s not hell like this Christian fantasy -it’s a bad place where we don’t belong- we can’t take it, we can’t weather the storm, our bodies are pudgy and hairless mostly, we get hot, cold and thirsty, we can barely run around the block or throw a good punch- AND so we have weapons like guns and knives that most of us can’t even use- even if we’re taught – it’s because we’re AFRAID…AFRAID OF WHAT?


it’s a sick scene and I’m serious and I’m not being funny. Mothers blood brings us here and keeps us coming back- ONLY the seed of the guru can take us out for good- the spiritual lineage is paramount to our release from this hell realm of the Black Mother. It’s not easy to find him either- beware of false prophets and wanabee magicians and limp shamanic totem toting holy men- because they can’t help you- because you’ll only know her name is Kali when you’re smart- and she won’t be wearing a name tag or a viewable necklace of skulls…no, she’s hidden and she’s not a lady- then she’s shifting between the dimensions slipping in slipping out and if you’re lucky- she takes you on a journey just like in Charles Dickens – A Christmas Carol- and you, my little wicked baby Scrooge- find out what’s up -and you find out what’s down- and you move forward through your disowned malicious intent to reproduce “mother” everywhere- and you SUCK that spiritual dick of God as HARD as you can- like it’s the LAST dick you’ll EVER see- and you swallow that holy truth- over and OVER again. (that’s where the word Hallelujah! came from btw-have some enthusiasm-put it together ok?)

And human earthling food makes her strong and sexy and the screen looks even huger than it’s pusher (whose YOU) and we WANT IT BAD- so we thirst for blood because her blood created us, consumed us from within- and we merged with mommy in the world of hard thrusting maggots into slimy bags of nutritious contracting blood boxes- and so I’m thinking you better look elsewhere for that next meal…I AM- and so I’m not eating because the answer is behind the eyes and the pineal gland gets stuck behind the spectrum of lust and tongue tied masturbation. I will only be with God. I will eat when God is ready for me. And you just don’t get it, I’m not human. This place is like a dream being projected into a make believe wall- it’s a mass sickness and we’re spinning and screwing ourselves ever deeper back into her wet sorcery.

Kali is only a goddess who gives you life when you worship the death of self indulgence- Kali is a ruthless whore when you think you’ve got it covered. She is an electric storm who offers no protection to the proud- you’ll see…pineal gland decalcification is the light you’ll want to rub up on…

It’s mothers blood that you taste and that you get drunk on- that withers your penis and closes the gates of recovery- and she wants to want you sweet sinner…(and mommy always gets what she wants honey pot) if I were you, I’d look into my head portal ASAP for the way home-away from her- it’s not here- and so make the call…S.O.S.

There is only her and the fulfilling of her desires at the cost of you- of course- whatever YOU are…it’s not what you think…morbid mommy-
tap tap tap that spinal cavity where the spiral grips the horn and squeezes with all its life.

(that’s a clue- that’s light infused)

Kali is only a door in your mind. In your heart she is wisdom. Your head is a cesspool of mother’s no-no’s and recipes for malnutrition… and also, if you think she’s got another orgasm for you dressed in a woman’s skin and soaked in cheap perfume- you, my dear, are as dead as the ghosts that ate your bloody newborn soul. Don’t let me scare you even though your carcass still moves and thinks and squirms beneath the squeeze of big, black mamma monster thighs…her immortal body is diseased and thriving with “us” as addicts- jones-ing- for another hit of perversity in every form…hungry, lifeless blood drinkers-spilling the poison into rags and killing the sperm. Take a dip into more of her blood- pools of blood, giving, taking the plot..there is nothing but blood as sacrifice, payment, and symbol- blood in three forms…

and so obviously I’m starving myself from the murk of the murder. I’m not a human. I’m not a lifeboat. I’m a lighthouse because the book said so.

Boom Shankar Bolinath Mahadeva

Sharada Devi