Bhagavadgita Pages, Chapters 1 to 18
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Black Kali, you stand on white supine Siva,
Tongue lolling out, blood dripping,
Right foot planted on his left chest,
Left foot balanced on his right thigh,
Your eyes far away, his orbs seeking mercy.
You are rock in your heart;
Your defiance is sublime.
White teeth, red tongue, black skin, owl eyes,
Floating feet, four hands, diadem rare,
Kilt of severed hands, limp tots on earlobes,
Wine breath, belly full of blood and carrion:
Your persona is forbidding.
Your anima is grace and mercy.
Left hand holds a severed head dripping blood,
Sword in right hand held aloft.
Burning eyes reduce demons to ash.
Turgid breasts suckle the gods.
Right side is nurture;
Left side is torture and killing.
You bore three sons Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva.
Brahma is dawn, Vishnu is sunshine, Siva is night;
Brahma is earth, Vishnu is sap, Siva is bark beetle.
Dawn follows night, Siva is god Right.
Three is One; One is three; Morph is the game.
Baddies are the bane of gods and all life.
Murder and mayhem is your game bringing order.
Mace to the face, sword to the neck,
They die by millions, rise by zillions --
Clones from drops of blood.
You sear the neck, and suck the marrow dry.
No spill, no clones.
Baddies sprout like mushrooms.
She plucks; she puts noose to the neck;
Like mollusks they slip away, and morph:
Butterflies here, wasps there, lions over there.
In one sweep she nets and stuffs them into her mouth;
Blood of Baddies are her beverage.
Elephants and mahouts are her meal;
Elephant’s tail disappears from between her lips
Like the snake going into the hole.
She is so hungry she could eat a horse!
Warriors are her favorite snack.
Mahisa is the head honcho of the bad lot;
He swells into a gargantuan, hiding the sun,
And matching her appetite for violence.
She drives a spear setting his soul free;
His body rolls downhill eastward, showing the orange orb.
The baddies and minions perish;
Jackals, hyenas and wolves come yelping,
Following the long scent of death.
Sniffing and salivating,
Pads drenched in shoals of blood,
Quadrupeds feast on choice carrion.
The feral feast ends amidst deathly peace and plenty.
The living furs tread on leaden stomach and feet
To their dens of waiting hungry pups.
She is a black beauty, wearing a garland of skulls.
She is Sound and all its emanations;
Skulls are letters; garlands are words and phrases.
She wears robes of sky; elements know her.
Sun is her son who cannot tan her any deeper;
Wind’s swish and coo do not bother her.
Earth is her daughter whose patience is eternal;
Water, the juice of life, is her daughter.
Moon is her daughter; she wears her like a jewel on her tresses.
Ether is her daughter who pervades all spaces.
Silent Sound vibrates; visual sound dances the body.
Anahata sound is unbeaten mental sound, heard in the spiritual heart.
Vaani is a still sound at the base of Axis Mundi;
Einstein’s ideas come piped-in from Vaani.
Articulate sound is intelligent whoosh of human larynx.