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  • Writer's picturerobertsavela

At the ghats with the band Om, some Jesus thought and no drugs.

Teach me unitive knowledge of the godhead unable to speak Om and Om and Om ten feet under razor deep heavy bass rippling the afterlife. No sign given except sacred bells keeping the beat dancing underneath and usually a beginning and an end like always from zero like Apollo like meditation after my confession the end is also the beginning get it out of the way son of Adam. Door outta my way everything wants to get out of my system and cast it into the fire. Do it all blood forever and serve only him. All possible variation the simplest is the opposite burning bright like John the Baptist. Also the second and the third down the line third line is gold dig this boy. Every name slow variation keeps it tight and thirteen drunks at the ghats one in Christ doobie seeker LSD the ashes and the bones and the water collide in the smoke unite all armor of god pilgrims – we become nothing but unitive knowledge and summertime blues.

The seal of the wise stoner rock and desert rock also ascetics in the desert will take you there 42 days and 42 nights meditate if you like leave the city. Figure it out what ya got good things to share but no bongs feeding five thousand may be the practice of death spirit astral sky rides what if? Walk along the water percussion slides through eyes and dimensions and god is good like a corpse. All better on the road pilgrim what you looking for you don’t care where it is always looking deep in the heart of the wilderness canoes on the river with flutes and fake fur coats and twelve candles and the widow and some vests on the banks and the succubus like the blood from the skulls at the gracious ghats. The kingdom come death is life those people heard the word and are old bathed in flowers and sparkly things and daggers on the right and maybe some greenery for nature and what no eye has seen. Swaying back and forth dissolve the body first the ghats of outer space the nebula and the star and the milky way traveled and the nova belongs through many a time spectacle.

She pretends in the night and mellow memories for who has known the mind and meditate at the water with the riches of that area that can’t last coming down the mountain. Walk the corridors see it your way and around the temples of a faithless generation and past the ink and the brass and the cloths for many a seeker down by the river.

Ancients drew spaceships and animals for help when jokers attacked. Eyes no worry they got faith seven and a few fish. They got historic sites Varanasi the ruins the devils the messiahs the beats the heavens show it forever dig up some ancients and all their harmonious powders and Ganga sits thou shalt not…


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