Monday, June 05, 2006

Perched high on the tree of enlightenment, growing on the back of our lady of faith. The streams of dharma flow from her sacred orifice into to sea from whence they came. A third world underprivileged soul laps at the effluence hoping for a renewal of fate.
Our karma (the force of utter bullshit that encompasses our sorry existence) will continue to urge us forward to greater depths, providing we forget where we come from and in which direction our future lies. For the only true path to true enlightenment lies behind a blindfold in the embrace of a straitjacket.
The ’goddha’ or unenlightened, upon whose unfortunate countenance, divine faith has not shone, knows not the warmth of her touch or the intoxication of her holy breast. Thus, the goddha will wander with a self -assured purpose that does not allow him to recognise the ‘true divine’. Only the lesser virtues of the divine does he perceive and they blind him into calling them god. The goddha may feel the satisfaction purpose while pleasuring himself on his imagined divine but knows not that there is hundred fold more pleasure in recognising the divine for who she really is. He exerts himself on her ‘hasth’ and ‘mukh’ while her principle pleasure remains untouched.
To recognise the divine for who she really is, a mistress, we must first learn to explore and seek out to learn that there is more to the divine than she presents. More to our lives than fucking a god.
As the planets revolve in their lonely orbits,
We contemplate our fate in a legion of stars
Gaze at the void of an empty mind, reflecting the viewers sullen touch.
The touch sparks off silent debate within a host of cobwebbed attics,
Safety at the cost of another life.
Bring down heavenly wrath for I have plotted against the neighbourhood thug
Within flows molten sperm, fertilizing fields ready to reap.Do not practice for fear of what you may preach.