Poetry
by Prem Prakash

The Long Armed One Is Real

The Long Armed One is real, my friend,
and Sri Ram’s name
is the bridge to his abode.
Shyam waits there for you
like an unspent thundercloud.
Can you smell the fragrance
of the flowers
carried in the breezes of freedom?
You are welcome... come,
dance and frolic!
Your brother, Prem Prakash,
longs to see you here.



Mother Kali

Oh Ma,
Your beautiful soft folds of light
draw me from my cave.
My eyes open and my legs unfold --
your call is just too great.
How could I withstand your siren music
drowning my soul in love?
The fire of your beauty
burns through
the shell of who I wish to be,
leaving me naked
and alone
with you.
Each morning
you pull me from sleep
to chant your names.
At night
you push me from activity
into the darkness of rest.

So it goes around the wheel
-- life and death --
nothing but your push and pull.
You unfold the tapestry of the world,
then you wind it back up.
You are the final lover
and ultimate completion.
All are called to bow before you.
Those who do so
with love and devotion;
them you raise
to glory and prominance.
Those who will not bow
end up on thier knees before you, anyway,
struck down by the arrows
of disappointment, sickness,
shattered illusions, and death.

In exchange for peace sublime,
passion unleashed and joy unbound,
all you ask is my body and mind.
I would be a fool
not to make
such a great deal.



Perhaps You Should Envy The Junkie

Perhaps you should envy the junkie, my friend.
He will lie, cheat and steal
to satisfy his yearning.
He bemoans the stars rising
and the dawn, too,
for neither brings him relief.
His mind remains focused
on his habit
regardless
of where he goes
or what he does.
He cares not if he has home or family.
He wanders the world independent
of cares,
of social acceptance,
of career,
of fame --
These mean nothing to him.

So, my friend,
when was the last time
your passion kept you
from sleep?
I think it may have been awhile.
No wonder your attempts
to attract the Mother of all desires
have not been successful.
You are too tepid.
For you must burn,
burn,
burn,
and burn some more.

When you find yourself roaming about
naked,
homeless,
and penniless --
The Mother will come
and call you by name,
“Shiva, Shiva, Shiva.”


If Only I Knew

If I had known the saints
were such a rowdy bunch,
I would have joined the party
long ago.


No Surprise

I guess we shouldn’t be surprised
at the gurus who preach
the “do’s and dont’s.”
Hey, everbody has to make a living.


A Brief Autobiography

Prem Prakash is the Divine Mother’s beloved
and she gives him everything
before he has a chance to ask.
Should she forget him for a moment,
he whines and complains.
Ah-- it is easier for her to deal with him
before he gets cranky.
Prem Prakash is the Divine Mother’s little baby --
and she spoils him rotten.


Another Case of Amnesia

Before you were born into this world,
the angels warned you
that you would forget your self.

At that time, in that world,
this seemed ludicrous,
ridiculous, unimaginable...
impossible.

You laughed and told them
you could never forget
your very self!
Then you all laughed together,
the angels smiling so compasisonately
at your boldness.
Well, to make a long story short,
it turns out they were right,
weren’t they?
Now you are searching the whole world
for an answer to that little question,
“Who am I?”
Prem Prakash says,
“O’ my forgetful friend,
chant God’e names --
you will remember.”

Kailash Ashram

At the foot of the Green Mountains
there is a home known
as the Kailash Ashram.
Those who live there rise before dawn.
They light a sacred fire
and meditate on the Self.
They chant the names of the Lord
with great yearning.
They practice yoga asanas
to keep the body strong and healthy,
that it might be of service
in the great plan.
The satsang gathers on evenings
and sings together with
the greatest love and devotion.
The call of their unified voices
brings Mother Kali to their gathering.
I am not exaggerating--
Mother Kali really does come!
Something wonderful is happening at
the foot of the Green Mountains.
Prem Prakash says, won’t you come
and join the fun?


Heartbroken

My friends, the pain of watching
you justify your mediocrity
is almost more than I can bear.
I beg you, please,
please,
open your heart.


God’s Secret

God has told me a secret:
He is lonely without you.
I know it’s hard to believe
but this is how He feels.
Honest.
He wants me to ask you to
relinquish the tear-soaked
chains with which you keep
yourself so tightly bound.
Exchange the chains for drumsticks and cymbals.
Bang them together and repeat,
again and again,
“om namah shivaya,
om namah durgaya.”
You won’t be sorry.
I promise.
God Himself will come before you
and thank you for
relieving His loneliness.



Before It’s Too Late

Stop your yoga!
Do not recite your mantras!
Dismantle your shrine
and hide from your heart!
You are making too much progress
on the spiritual path.
If you keep this up,
soon you will have to stand all alone.
For you will have destroyed the illusions
which keep the wheel of ignorance
spinning.
You will no longer be able to pretend
that you can find happiness in
that which will never make you happy.
That will be the end of your social life
and dalliance with society.
My friends, if you don’t cease your sadhana,
you may soon find out
why the saints live
naked
and alone...
in joy.

Go Ahead and Ask

Go ahead and ask.
The Goddess will give you
whatever you want.
All the world’s treasures sit meekly
in the Divine Mother’s basket.
It is nothing for Her
to give away Her trinkets.
Her supply, after all,
is just like Her--
infinite, unlimited, fantastic--
beyond the ability of the mind
to understand.
If you want to live forever
like a child on Christmas morning,
just ask Her for some gifts.

But... that’s not the end of the story.
The toys that you ask for
are just like your body:
they pass away like a burnt stick of incense,
leaving nothing but dust in a bowl.
Isn’t it true?
Hasn’t life shown you this?
The Goddess is not cruel,
She just gives you what you want.
It is you who cheat yourself.
Why do you ask for so very little?
How can a few pebbles bring enjoyment
to you? You,
whose inheritance is the whole universe.
Go ahead --
ask for what you really want.
Don’t bother trying to settle,
your greatness won’t allow
you to find happiness in petty things.
Take the whole world and swallow it whole,
wash it down with a cup of chai
and burp like a pig!
It will feel really good.
As for me,
I like to bring the Goddess my naked soul
and let Her ravish me.

Death Will Understand

When you purchased your body
in the marketplace of karma,
it didn’t come with a warranty.
Interestingly enough,
it did come with a guarantee.
A 100% promise that it will one day
lay on a deathbed.
At that time you will be thrilled
that Ram’s name had poured
from its tongue.
If this doesn’t make sense,
you haven’t yet shaken hands
with death.
You can wait for him to take your hand
or
You can tell him -- right now --
“Hey, Mr. Death, I have chanted Ram’s
name with love and devotion.
You, who so many fear,
are my servant.”
Death will understand.

Write a Poem
All of my poems are about a vision
of which everyone is a part.
That’s the essential message:
no one is apart--
everyone is a part.
I call it the Divine Vision of Universal Love.
The birds sing sbout it,
the trees express it,
the chipmunks run in it,
the turky waddles in it,
human beings ponder over it,
yogis sing about it,
and the angels serve it.
When you see it
you will know just what I mean.
Perhaps you will then be inspired to
write your own little poem.


I See You Naked
If you think about it
we are really naked all the time.
Sure you have cloth covering
whatever it is you are trying to hide,
something about parts that are private.
But underneath the cloth
we are naked.
I respect your modesty
and I understand why you
would wear pants and a sweater.
But can you really make sense
out of covering your heart
with the armor of shame,
of secrets, of guilt, of anger?
Regardless of your explanantions,
regardless of what you tell yourself
regardless of the agreements
you and your friends have made,
does this really make any sense?
As for me,
it brings me great comfort
to realize that God sees me naked
all the time.
We are all just naked little Aums
riding in the one big Aum.


Illusion

The sky is not blue
but that does not mean
that it is not beautiful.


When I Sing
When I sing, God dances.
This is not a sign of my talent
but of his prowess and grace--
tht he always finds a way to
make his devotees incredibly happy.
You may think this is just poetry, but
my eyes have truly seen--
he and his sweetheart
dancing, laughing, kicking up their heels.
They and their friends--
they throw their hands up and shout,
they do the back-off bugaloo,
they kick it out,
they do the jump- back-jack,
they do the chickie dance--
It is wild, outrageous, hilarious, indescribable.
It’s so much fun you feel like you might pee your pants
(but of course you don’t).
They even do the hokey pokey--
they put the whole thing in
they pull the whole thing out
they put the whole thing in again
and they shake, they shake, they shake,
they shake it all about.
I have learned that this singing and dancing,
this smiling and laughing,
this friendship and the love,
most of all -- this love is, indeed,
what it’s all about.
I hope this little poem makes you happy
and fills you with confidence.
Because if a schlepp like Prem Prakash
can make God dance,
just imagine what you can do.

The Laws of Madness

I’ve been here several decades now
and I still haven’t figured out the rules
of this world.
People here treat each other in the oddest of ways,
and they have all kinds of reasonable explanations
for their cruelty, hatred, and selfishness.
Their hearts are hard and their minds are soft.
While I am of the opinion
this should be the other way around.
They cling to their dogmas and identities
like fierce dogs,
yet their sense of self is so fragile
that they get angry
at the slightest challenge.
Their worldliness forces them
to accept hundreds of humiliating blows
but they refuse to bow even once
in divine humility.
I’m trying to understand the rules
so this will all make sense to me.
I know it is impolite to point out a problem
without providing a solution
but I’m not sure there is a real solution
to the problem of illusion.
The saints say man is God playing the fool.
I think they got that one right!
They also say that either the world is crazy
or they are.
Don’t ask me for the answer to that one!
But I will tell you one thing:
to understand the sanity of the saints
you will have to not understand the world,
and this takes a lot of courage.



My Jealousy

Mother Kali,
sometimes I am jealous of those
who have never met you.
This world holds promise for them.
They have friends & family,
houses and careers,
religions and passions --
they get to imagine they
will find happiness in that
which does not provide happiness.
They still have the luxury of
pursuing illusion.
Sometimes I think them fortunate
and I envy their blindness.
For you have left this beggar
all alone...
all alone in flight...
on the wings of immortality.
Ah Ma, the winds of eternal freedom
have carried my soul,
yes, they have carried my soul.
Oh my beloved, you carry my soul.
You raise my heart to love supreme
and bless the cells of my body
with your power.
I sing your names and you dance
inside and outside.
You show me your forms
and I bow before your
unfathomable creativity.
My heart opens and my mind melts,
beyond cares, beyond fears,
beyond death.
Tears fall from my eyes and,
like the moth,
I enter your flame,
willingly, with devotion,
in ecstasy.
Sweet ecstasy, sweet mother,
o’ sweet ecstasy, o’ sweet mother....
Did I say I feel jealous?
Well, Ma,
when you inspire me to write about you
I get to feeling better.
Now I feel kind of stupid about feeling jealous.
Thanks for reminding me.

Like A Kid

Do you want to know
how close you are to God?
Fart.
Go ahead, I’m not kidding.
If you can’t toot right now, wait a little while,
one will surely come along.
You’ll get your chance to
discover how close you are to God.
Don’t discount what I am saying
and think I am trying to be shocking
or act like a big gross-out.
Listen: when someone farts, the grown-ups
all wrinkle their noses
and act as if the world is coming to an end.
They get a squelched look on their faces.
They look around embarrassingly
until someone apologetically
utters, “excuse me.”
If they can’t even handle a little
gas in the air,
how do they expect to hang out
with the Creator of all the air?
Children have a better idea--
when somebody cuts one,
they laugh and laugh
like someone was tickling them.
They blow on their palms
or stick their hands under their armpits
and try and make squealing sounds.
They make a party out of a little riser.
The angles laugh too and say, “Good for them.”
Joy brings children into God’s presence.
When your meditation gets really deep
you’ll understand farts
even better than the kids.
You’ll go beyond right and wrong,
good and bad,
past the poles of opposites
of the dualistic mind.
Then you’ll find that your farts
are the incense of your body;
One of the fragrances in the
Divine Mother’s garden.
If you want to be close to God,
go beyond the mind and
become Ma’s divine baby.
Then, when you feel a stinker coming along,
grab your toes with your fingers,
and give a little push down under.
When you give it your all,
I mean your all--
body, mind, heart and soul--
you’ll find no difference between sandalwood
and your body’s incense.
Then you’ll know you are close to God.
Prem Prakash says, “The Divine Mother loves everything about you.
Everything.”


Now I Get It

I had heard the Lord’s names
but tears didn’t fall from my eyes.
The hairs on my arms didn’t stand up
and I didn’t dance
and hug everyone in sight.
Yet if I heard someone was giving away $100 bills
on a street corner across town
I would practically pee my pants
in excitement
and drive my care as fast as I could
to get there before others could arrive
and swipe my share.
Then I figured out what was going on.
I got it.
It’s the mind--
it’s stolen our treasure.
I tell you, you have a treasure!
Don’t listen to the lies of the mind,
it wants you as a slave.
Your treasure sits on the altar of your heart.
Go there,
bow before Sita Ram,
stay on your knees
until Hanuman raises you up.
Dwell in your full glory.
Yes, dwell fully in your glory.
You are the one of whom the sages sing.
Don’t dessert them now.
Raise your voice and join their chorus:
“Jai Sita Ram Ram Ram, Sita Ram Ram Ram
Jai Sita Ram Ram Ram, Sita Ram Ram Ram.”

Remember Just One Thing

Everything is perfect.
That’s it-- the final teaching.
It seems odd on first hearing
and it almost seems to good to be true,
or maybe too bad.
Yup, that’s just the rub--
our ideas of good and bad
are the dust
in our eyes that
keeps us from seeing
the perfection.
But this dust... it’s perfect.
Our fantasies and our fears,
our desires and attachments
which cause so much uneccesry suffering.
You know what? They’re perfect.
Our nutty selfishness,
the way that we decide that
what we like determines right and wrong.
Our futile attempts to control the world with our will,
the resulting frustration and disappointment...
Perfect.
Now be careful,
because I didn’t say that everything
was groovy.
In fact, a lot of the world is not very chill at all.
But that’s o.k.
Do you know why?
Becaus perfection is not static--
it constantly expresses itself in imperfection,
which, through love,
grows back to perfection.
If you forget everything else in this little poem--
try to remember that one part
about love nurturing the imperfect towards perfection.
If all this talk about perfection makes you feel a little nervous,
or if your mind trys to drag you into it’s intellectual morass,
just relax and feel the Divine Mother’s presence,
here, now. Here, now. Here, now.
All of creation is perfectly imperfect
and that includes us.



We’re All Friends Here

English has 26 letters in its alphabet,
Sanskrit has 50,
other languages have more or less.
Yet no matter what tongue I try to use
I can’t get the letters to form into
words adequate to express
the love that I feel for you.
Yea, you, all of you.
I see your kindness,
and the ways you try to be a decent person.
It’s apparent that your heart is open
and that you are a good friend.
Your eyes show your gentleness
and your lips reveal that you like to smile.
Most of all, I can tell you have glimpsed
something of the secret of the cosmic romance:
that the fire of love is kept alive through yearning.
Yearning has done it’s work on you,
the way heat and pressure forge a diamond,
making you beautiful and sparkling.
Is it any wonder I feel the way I do about you?
And one more thing --
I don’t feel the need to pretend
that you don’t think I’m
pretty cool too.
Hey, why should I?
Your lovelight feels real good
shining on me!
This little yogi says,
“Maybe we don’t need concepts
to explain how we feel,
because together we can chant
‘Sri Rama Jai Rama Jai Sita Rama’.”