The bullshit


The bullshit
(poem about life, creation, spirituality and why we exist – has minor profanity)

A guru sees the divine in all, a master sees our light that glows, a sage sees our beauty within – yet what I now perceive is the nonsense in all life.  I don’t really know when it happened, but suddenly all I can see is the bullshit behind mayas game known as a children’s play.

Why must our reality be so lost in duality! Why must we practice for perfection when so perfect was our creation! Why give us a taste of bliss in a sea of piss! Why throw the shit in the fan, to splatter on all and smother the land. Sure I know the answers to these, but can’t you see it makes more bull than sense.
Oh Lord, what have you done! To be a blind deaf beggar, ignorant was bliss. Spiritual practice has made me want for a piece of peace. Elevation sounds so good, so loft so high – but the smell up top is a stumbling block.

Now half awakened my life seems forsaken. Suffer I must to see the crap that goes on, like a beggar dying of thirst as a red-bull passes by.

So tired am I of all this shit, left right center and back, bottom or top it never stops.
On and on in all ways it always runs, like diarrhea from a babies bum.
My Lord, my friend my only one – what have you done?

The Maya has gone too far – not in enslaving fools but fooling the fool.
A master now we must ridicule, hunt them down like a wild roaring boar; to play this game this fast called life, for God’s sake what a joke you’ve made.

Who cares how love is to be defined, so what if the greatest is to sacrifice. What I see is your lust, to experience it all at any cost. Think not you do of your kin; think not you do of your sin. Just revel in bliss you stay alone, oblivious to the pain below.

Where nothing is real, nothing is might – not even to long for God is right; everything just bites me in the arse, even to love my guru is a pain in the ass. This bullshit called karma, this bullshit called light – only makes us lose sight. Life is love and nothing else, why complicate so with eternal tales of God in pony tails.

Only the bliss in thee feels so good, but to get that feel is mighty cruel. The last step you say to reach our abode, the last step in life to end the game. Who gives a shit to all of this, why don’t you come down and experience it. Talk talk talk is for naught, just come down here and walk the route, then you’ll see the crap you’ve made, a sacred sea so sanctified by thee, and my Lord I must say this, as holy as the sea may be, it still is filled with shit.

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