A poem(Krsna !)

<font color="red">
Who's gonna save you
when you're about to go over the edge(Krsna!) [img]/images/graemlins/smirk.gif[/img]
or off the rails(Krsna!) [img]/images/graemlins/wink.gif[/img]
Or jump into a bloody mess(Krsna!) [img]/images/graemlins/tongue.gif[/img]
of illusion ,confusion and delusion(Krsna!) [img]/images/graemlins/confused.gif[/img]

So who gonna kick your butt(Krsna!) [img]/images/graemlins/blush.gif[/img]
when you make offence to all the good people
of this world(Are there any?)(Krsna!) [img]/images/graemlins/ooo.gif[/img]

Find out for sure
whether or not you're flaming mad
or not?(Krsna!) [img]/images/graemlins/grin.gif[/img] </font color>

--- Krsna das

dont expect Lord Krishna to bail you out every time you do something stupid... reliance on Krishna is great, but you must do your part too... [img]/images/graemlins/smile.gif[/img]

Should I pray as if everything depended on the mercy of Krsna ?
And at the same time should I endeavor in a way as if everything depended on me?

in a sense yes.

the way I see it:

ultimately... in spiritual life everything is dependent on Krishna's mercy, but we must try to follow the path of the Acharyas and pray for their, and Lord Krishna's blessings.

in material life we must walk the path of Dharma and pray that our material life will not distract us from our spiritual pursuit

I must have not been logged in... spacey...

We do have to do some of the gardening/weeding though not that we sit back and leave it all up to Krsna all the time!
dhhuuuhhh!

Sorry just can't believe someone can be so flippant. My guru maharaja would whack me into next week if he heard me say that stupid statement!

Can I suggest the bhakta course to you?????

Bhaktivinode's App. Day

By the pond
Cool dark day
In a sick body.

I'm looking for the most
golden opportune moment to think of Krsna
It's not working.

From His side
It's easier if He comes to me
to give special mercy.
I don't deserve it.

Thank You Krsna

krsna das

It's all His

Nothing is mine anymore

All I do is Krsna's doing through me

Yes,a very tight compact of love between Him and me

No kidding !
It's an internal state of reciprocal give and take:

He give me everything

And He takes away everything.

Krsna is doer,seer, maker ,etc...

I've done nothing at all ...

But desire that Krsna take over my heart and soul

and give me His very Self.

Hare Krishna

Krsna das

I have fear of the Spirits of the past
That flutter behind me and "within me".

My ash thoughts push the wind
and fly over
Melting in tears of ice ...

My sand throne
for a sinner rogue
on the wake of his false ego.

I'm a toy of ironic destiny
Today as Yesterday
Always every thought is an Eternity
in order
That I desire virtue
like a noble king
can give his country .

Hare Krsna,
kirtana all in my citta

Mahamantra, Hare Krsna
taken root in my heart and soul,
my essence revealed as jivatma...

The Holy Names blasted
through the deep rock
and steel-framed fence of sin
around the heart
realizing my eternal nature as a sevaka
as Sri Krsna das

Was I caught and stolen for Krsna's pleasure?

Did I redeem myself by coming to Him?

Prostrated in full dandavats..

Calling out His names with petition and contrition...

I desire therefore I will change to be His loving servant devotee

some day soon

Can I do it?

Na, can't be done by me!

Only by His grace and mercy.
He'll do some day soon
He'll force me to taste the nectar
Spit out the stool

He'll mercy kick me in the head

So that I can serve Him willingly, lovingly without any reservation.

Krsna das here reporting from a small place called Earth.

Poems have a way of grabbing the essence from thin air!:




Walt Whitman (1819–1892)

from Song of Myself


1

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loaf and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents
the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.

Creeds and school in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.


2

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with
perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is
odorless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

The smoke of my own breath,
Echoes, ripples, and buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine,
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood
and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and dark-color'd
sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,
The sound of the belch'd words of my voice, words loos'd to the eddies of the wind,
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms,
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides,
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and
meeting the sun.

Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? Have you reckon'd the earth much?
Have you practiced so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns
left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through
the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself.

Freed from Lust?

Not yet perhaps,
But I've got the desire
to put the whole episode behind me. Yes.

Lust is Disgust.
The Lord's Grace is a real must
In order to
Love without Lust.

I sit in one place
And peer outside my prison self

The world is passing me by,
The only way I make meaning
is to tap in these few lines on this srceen.

Otherwise the residual lust
will force me to see a woman
to desire.

krsna das

The addiction of being alone

She beckons
Beguiles
Embraces
And smiles.

Her wicked
Breaks homes
Binds you
To her rooms.

An addiction
She is
Independence?
Hah! you wish!

When You abandon,
She calls
Traps me
In her squalls.

Then one day
You weren't there
She spied me out
But I ran away.

Waking
I realize
You're still here
By my side.

But how long
Before
The lonely temptress
Will score?

(c) Rucha Gokhale



Thursday, July 28, 2005

The betrayal

I waited
How long
I don't recall.
But time flew
And weariness
grew.

Along came
The one
I waited for .
Eyes red, forlorn
Countenance
worne.

Bit my tongue
As tales flew
Ragged.
Sputtering and jerky,
A heart emptied of fears.
Sordid. Murky.

Felt I both
Betrayal and pity
And I watched.
The drunken stupor
Of a forgotten friend
From before.

A voice lamented.
Begged and urged
"Fight on!"
But tempted by such intimacy
I proved once again
My fallacy.

(c) Rucha Gokhale





The Sensitive Skill

The difference between
Me and him
He's wise yet I
Am wiser still.
Not in the way
The laureates are
Simpler
In a village way by far.

His might herculean
His mind so swift,
Achilles, Alexander, Arjun like his skill.
He knows not though
Neither achieved the heights
I've seen a dear father achieve
Only just to endure my sullen whims.

I know he's as deep
As his heritage allows...
Not deep perhaps
Like the ocean of my love;
Yet a wholesome smile
At my warm but uncooked rice
Would've made him king
And earned him the land of my soul.

(c) Rucha Gokhale



A life just begun

Here I was
The end of a phase of a beginning
Scribbling words, mundane.

My feelings, hmmmm...
Let me analyse them
And have it done.

Putting quill to paper
Or fingers to keys,
Stalling, procrastinating.

Ah! need to fetch
Such and such
The larder needs stocking.

Stop! get back!
Back to inking
Precious thoughts of past days.

Paralyzed mind
Furtively worked to get out of the "chore"
In a million ways.

Let me feel!
Let me deal!
Let this seem unreal!
Let it be a dream!
Screamed... My mind
- in defense of an innocent life just begun.

(c) Rucha Gokhale



Absent Love

Took the world in,
Through naked eyes,
But my own veiled truth
Never realized.

Dirt and shame grow,
From root to tree,
And so an absent love
Begins with me.

Too shallow to care,
Too selfish to know,
That I reap the fruits
Of the seeds I sow.

But for forgiveness and mercy
Stirring all around,
I had it not in me
To stand my ground.

I cannot run,
And I can't hide.
But I can rise above
This darkness inside.

I can't run
But I can fly!
I'll take my chances
With the unknown sky.

The whirling wind
May bring a friend,
But my loneliness
I must defend.

For I am at ease
With an absent love,
With it I'll make
My home above...

(c) Rucha Gokhale

Why does famine strike a personal domain?
While cool rain spills on an evergreen plain?

Why do slight tremors cause
A mind to bend?
Though a thousand earthquakes
It could easily mend?

Why?
When rose-gardens flourish
Without a weed,
Will thorns prick undaunted
And a soul must bleed?

Why?
When reality has turned into
A fairy tale,
Nightmares come true
Like a wicked spell?

Why?
Just when the heart learns to leap
O'er trivial pain?
Does fate turn tables
Bringing abandonment again?

And why?
When cool rain may spill on every evergreen plain,
Must famine strike a personal domain?

© Rucha Gokhale

DARK NIGHT

Exposition of the stanzas describing the method followed by the soul in its journey upon the spiritual road to the attainment of the perfect union of love with God, to the extent that is possible in this life. Likewise are described the properties belonging to the soul that has attained to the said perfection, according as they are contained in the same stanzas.

PROLOGUE
...


STANZAS OF THE SOUL

1. On a dark night,
Kindled in love with yearnings—oh, happy chance!—
I went forth without being observed,
My house being now at rest.

2. In darkness and secure,
By the secret ladder, disguised—oh, happy chance!—
In darkness and in concealment,
My house being now at rest.

3. In the happy night,
In secret, when none saw me,
Nor I beheld aught,
Without light or guide,
save that which burned in my heart.

4. This light guided me
More surely than the light of noonday
To the place where he (well I knew who!)
was awaiting me—
A place where none appeared.

5. Oh, night that guided me,
Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
Oh, night that joined
Beloved with lover,
Lover transformed in the Beloved!

6. Upon my flowery breast,
Kept wholly for himself alone,
There he stayed sleeping,
and I caressed him,
And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.

7. The breeze blew from the turret
As I parted his locks;
With his gentle hand he wounded my neck
And caused all my senses to be suspended.

8. I remained, lost in oblivion;
My face I reclined on the Beloved.
All ceased and I abandoned myself,
Leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies.

Robert Frost (1874–1963).

Mountain Interval. 1920.

1. The Road Not Taken


TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same, 10

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back. 15

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

If I can traverse the path
calked out by the Great Souls

Then let it be written down
some where that it was possible
for a fallen soul like me
to become a Krsna das in truth.

Not holding back,
the mercy is there
but not taking is offense

Hankering for that which really quenches;
immortal beverage - kirtan-rasa-beyond illusion's trenches.

I need to give up the trapings of maya's lair
by using the sadhus words with care.

They are beacons of light
and clarion calls for our bhakti fight.

To ressucitate my soul's very essence
By Krsna's auspicious Harinama presence.

Krsna das

‘As I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord, my soul to keep.

If I die before I wake,
I pray the Lord, my soul to take.’

A A Milne