hotter stars

I asked Ram Dass if he wanted to read a poem and he smilingly assented. He read my little verse with deep attention two or three times then smiled, touched his heart, and said, “sweet”, and handed it back to me. He seemed genuinely pleased. Admittedly, it's the merest of trifles. He couldn't have been nicer to some juicy fruit passing him his great inspiration. I would have felt very bad indeed asking him to read anything longer. I could hardly expect him to be blown away by it. But that's what I wanted. “This is incredible. Did you write this? Can I keep it?” Sure, would you like me to sign it? I didn't know you were that much into Amma!

I think of Amma where Ram Dass appeared,
And the girl at the door flings it open
To another company of angels
Singing of the beauty of Lord Krishna.

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Hotter Stars?  No kidding?  Whew, sweat trickling from brow in great anticipation.

Love you, Sir R.

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Love you too, sweetie.

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Either the spell is broken or I'm healed,
But I no longer long for you, darling,
Though I still wear the wedding band and cat's eye,
And the eye of Horus around my neck.

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mmm. loving this.
heart opening. feeling the space where 'love' is and 'wanting' melts.
xo

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And all this free therapy under your superb guidance.

Namaste

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It's as if it is suddenly quiet,
A rumbling inundation of warm surf
Rising everywhere from the inside out,
And all you can do is give into it.

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I so love this, Ram. I'm reveling in the sudden quietness, the feeling of just-so-ness that settled around me, reading your words.

Thanks,
Ruth

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Isn't that the truth.  I am loving the picture of you just giving into all the beautiful warmth and saying, see, if Chris can do it, surely you can too. 

LOVE

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I like the warm surf feeling.

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Thanks, darlings. Jeez. All these pretty mermaids. Let's find an island.

I'm giving the shove to old so-called friends,
Just telling it exactly as it is,
And watching how the truth just levels them,
Because truth is what they don't want to hear.

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With this final bucket of cold water
You have brought me to my senses, darling,
And I won't ever do this dance again,
Wakeful now beyond your expectation.

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Where the Nile branches into the delta
I filled the holy river with my tears
For a love outlasting the pyramids,
Gone forever before it even was.

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It's like your parents said, I'm an actor,
But how could they ever understand me,
For the eye sees without what is within,
And the heart is a secret worshipper.

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Exactly!

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I spend hours meditating in my tent,
It's either that or commit suicide,
The perfect place for spiritual practice
And deep thoughts about beautiful women.

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This is some of the best stuff you have ever written.  I don't know how it could get better but it just does.

I've emailed you privately. 


His mom said, she has nothing to offer,
except maybe in your lonely  bedroom,
but how could she ever understand me,
when her heart had closed so long ago.

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Thanks. I wrote two verses yesterday I am not going to post because I and everyone else has had enough of this. Don't think badly of her. She deserves my adoration. The marriage was a mismatch and she did the right thing. I'm doing fine.

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Well, I can't say I've 'had enough' yet, dear friend,
but whatever feels right to you is what I'll support.

I think these last ones are exquisite, just like Ayla said.
(Not that I didn't find the earlier quatrains less…
ditto to that whole comment of hers!)

I found these verses deep and insightful,
surprising and touching… hope you'll continue
something - a new thread maybe, if your done
with these?

Whatever you do
I'll be among all those women
adoring you.

:)

Gabriele

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you have lots of adorers. I guess that is  a word because the red underline did not appear to warn me.

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Gabriele. What a lovely thing to say, sweet lady.

Jenni. I humbly bow to you.

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love you too, bro!

{from humble male domain…}

@~)

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Namaste, Antony.

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…oh okay, I do too.

And I for one think the would would be a lesser place without Ramsses' quatrains.

Your ol' head-buttin' pal,

Tom

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enough?? you've got to be kidding, Ramsses. My day would not be the same without a Hot Star. If you feel pulled to write in a different direction, that's fine, but please don't hold back your muse from us, ok?

Love,
Sandra

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And I for one think the world would be a lesser place without you, Tom.

Well… okay. For you, Sandra.

We knew the marriage was a disaster,
The problem was that we loved each other,
So we cooked up a safe catastrophe
That would get both of us out looking good.

Or something like that.

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My mother seriously provokes me.
Just like my father, she's mastered the art
Of stupidity combined with niceness,
So I have to pretend not to notice.

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A gang jumped him in Boston and wrecked his shoulders,
So he's in constant pain, works two jobs as a cook,
Smokes pot so he can sleep, sells me a burrito,
And will practice the meditation I gave him. 
 

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It's hard to admit that I was foolish,
Clinging to an obvious illusion
Because I couldn't face the emptiness
Of stark naked truth looking straight at me.

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this is a mirror to my heart

thank you

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It's not as bad as it seems. Not at all.

Just mynas drink and bathe outside my tent,
They know the place is theirs, I've heard them talk.
Palm branches drift in the light morning breeze,
Birds resting on them, etched against the sky.

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im likin it
nay lovin it
no pretence at aforethought
merely the innuendo
of breath…

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Thanks, Antony! I'm honored that you picked up on that. I usually write with glacial slowness. When this verse finally came together, I wondered at how effortless it looked.

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The house becomes a temple, its flat roof
Blocking the view of the magic mountains,
And time is back where something awakened
Far too evolved for a primitive world.

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I said my prayers over a gem bangle
Until the brother who sold it to me
Proved so cruel, arrogant and conceited
I took it off and got what I wanted.

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Sri Baba Neeb Karori Maharaj,
Mynas bathing, one after another,
Birds talking in the tropical morning,
But the drop dead gorgeous girl is missing.

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So many other aspects get exposed,
I wonder what it was in the first place
That I thought I couldn't live without it,
When neither of us would want to go back.

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They took my karma from me at that place,
God bless 'em, and now I'm in the sweat lodge.
It all happens quickly when they come for you,
Just keep your cool, and everything is fine.

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Now I get why the Buddhists let it be,
Just turn around and walk the other way,
While the predators who did it to you
Have sucked up all your sins like a vacuum.

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I have no choice but to do what I want,
Which is the hardest thing for me to do,
So used am I to an endless struggle
To get what I could never get before.

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How could I have rented from those pigs
Unless there was a purification
That only viciousness could bring about,
That made me see that I have been insane?

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Weakling gets bullied, meets martial artist,
Is blown away by said martial artist,
Who also happens to be a painter
Of no slight reckoning, and I'm ready.

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This great love I had now looks trivial,
A sacrifice to a noble ideal
That lasted only as long as needs met
And the means to find greater happiness.

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In this profound weariness,
Not the desire for death by any means
But a sudden imitation,
Do I slip beyond the reach of things,
Resting where the pine boughs waver
And the green ranks in the valley
Sway to an unheard music,
As another tumbles from its distant origins
In accidental immaculate perfection.

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slip, chris, slip beyond,
beyond mind
where weariness
dissolves…

@ ~)

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If Ophelia had been Rosalind
And Hamlet had known who the woman was,
The play would have been shot through with the light
Of the unnamed eternal religion.

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Rosalind, walk with me on the battlements,
Where the ghost of my murdered father roams
Restless for revenge upon my uncle,
And urges me to do the bloody deed.

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I welcome you to lovely Elsinore,
Where everyone is mad except for me,
A loving, happy, royal family,
And the Queen my mother is a delight.

She won't mind if I bump off her boyfriend
Because the ghost of my father haunts me,
But no, forgive me, I keep forgetting
How a marriage followed a funeral.

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Welcome to the real world, Prince of Denmark,
Unless you think that family should spare
Its members from the common impulses
We share with our most bitter enemies.

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True, I had some notion about honor
In kin where there never has been any,
Though it hardly troubled my amazement
Catching one glimpse of you for the first time. 

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Yes, do tell me how my beauty stunned you
All unawares, just me passing by, or you,
And suddenly the world completely changed
And never would it be the same again.

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Something like that, more or less, who can tell?
One never really knows with such women
Who so blind you on first sight you can't think,
And ever afterwards you wander lost.

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What prince invites a girl to see a ghost?
Try a little romance on me, Hamlet.
Murder and adultery are poor fare
For the world's most improbable lovers.

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Can I argue with such flawless logic?
Why expose myself to the icy blast
When a goddess beckons beguilingly,
Howsoever I might wish to resist?

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oiy

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Oiy!

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Harold Bloom read all of Shakespeare at twelve,
But doesn't think he knows the mind of God,
Because how could he be so arrogant,
Having fallen into eternity?

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How's Maui?
Tropical.
I like these one word aphorisms.
Butcanyoulivebythem?

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My friends have all gone mad, but what the hell,
It makes them feel like they're on to something,
And anyway I know the place so well,
I should be the last one to go back there.

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I drink this amazing tea for my lungs,
Wear magic discs for my infirmities,
Recovering my strength from a battle
That cost me more than I could ever know.

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Wow! Just read this whole thread.

Breath taking views. 
Tugs at the heart strings
Feeling the love that is older
Than the ancient pyramids

It is eternal, outliving who we think we are
Yet it is new every time it is shared
here among us
Taking on different forms

Yum! I get to bathe here sweating out toxins
in the energy of the hotter stars
refreshed by masterfully crafted images
and a bucket of icy cold water

To you Chris, and to all
who contribute here,
I bow humbly
While the goddess within rejoices

Namaste,
Nell ;-o

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You're hired.

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My recollection is a sudden bend
In a narrow river, dark in an ancient wood,
Where Recollets Fathers plunged to their deaths,
And a grotto is there for reflection.

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Hi Ramsses, just letting you know that I'm reading along and not saying much, but enjoying it all immensely.

xo
Andrea

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Thank you so much, Andrea.

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An old mud hut left by a Spanish monk
Was designated the holiest place,
And some of us used to meditate there,
In the name of our Hindu avatar.

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• lotus pray

@ ~)

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Duh.

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The prototypes are all accessible,
From one temple springs a sacred city,
Glimmering in its beautiful vastness
Of forms behind the rubble left on Earth.

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I've rated romantic love too highly,
Put it on a par with enlightenment,
Worshipped an idol as if it were God,
Made beauty more than she could ever be.

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Funny how people walk under these mountains,
At all times impossibly beautiful,
As if they never took a look at them,
Had never entered the royal city.

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So many layers of the onion peel
Away in surprising contradictions,
Missing you dreadfully in the old haunts,
Grateful that we are free of each other.

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it must be a relief to be grateful of that

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You're so cute!

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you are too. thank you

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A rainbow over the center of town
And a flaming red sky for miles around,
A huge wind blowing over iron urns
Because someone across the world is free.

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It always sneaks back when you think you've won,
It's an unknown ocean that floats your boat,
A sea of insatiable desire
For the love that can never satisfy.

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I'm finding reading your words a balm this night, giving me images to light my eye, opening up something bigger than myself.

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I find it very difficult to write when you're gone. So there.

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I especially loved this ~

     An unknown ocean that floats your boat

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Let me tell you about that ocean, darling.

It's true that I've become a kind of monk
With a relatively well behaved dick,
But there isn't really that much difference
When the desire instead just makes you sick.

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Some dive! Keep going Ram. What's underneath?

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I'm not sure if that last quatrain was funny or sad … both, I guess. 

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It's both. It's also angry. I'm so sick of it all.

Loving you too.

It wasn't that deep of a dive.

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Well, it looks like you've been productive since I've been gone,

“I've rated romantic love too highly,
Put it on a par with enlightenment,
Worshipped an idol as if it were God,
Made beauty more than she could ever be.”

I particularly like that one, its opening line so suggestive, next line true, next line sad, next line glad you did not capitalize “beauty.”

Happy new year in 3hrs and 15 minutes more or less.

warmest,
Michael