My time is up, your time is up....
we are all terminal, life on earth is but a fetus breath, weak and faint...
it will soon expires, so I just keep on enjoying the sensual pleasure of
hand and bodies coming together ...
of a cigar smoked while playing with
myself reading Buddha's words on the Lankavatara Sutra.
drink my dark and strong Colombian-African coffee mix with a piece
of sweet cake while listening to Pantera and AC/DC...
Watch my pretty face in a broken mirror, dance away with hits of the 80's & 90's,
dress in sexy clothes for my own pleasure....
laugh and cry alone in my room like a mad sadhu... holy Indian man gone crazy
with divine madness,
not gods to kneel to,
not heaven to aspire to, or hells to fear.
Beyond boundaries of mind, of borrowed sets of beliefs,
buddha, osho, krishna, hubbard, adi da , bashar and even elan....names
that mean nothing to my heart, maybe hanuman the monkey "god",
who is tattooed on my left arm , closest to my heart...
Just like him I can fly, become big or small with wish of no-mind...
no-body gets out alive in this game called human life... only
the witness of the silly point-of-view called living light.
anjani
march 13, 2013
