Uninhibited Bliss

Enlightenment Is

Today, I took eating contemplation at a local café down the street.
Some punk kid with spiked hair saw me sitting alone and smirked.
Instead of averting my eyes, as would've been my stock response,
I looked back and really saw...
This is the work:
Being open to see...
The temple that the mind interprets as a café,
the buddha that the ego thinks is a threat,
The penetrating glimpse of God that almost went unnoticed.
-- Kamala Devi

Poetry spilling forth

like melody after a symphonic repose

Do I play the flute, or does the flute play me?
Can I be the servant to these sounds
which deliver me to supreme liberation?

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Who is Typing

Words plucked from the river of collective consciousness and plopped down on
the page to dry, lest they float by, to  be fished out by some downstream
poet, on some other clear day.

--Kamala Devi

suchness

there's no desire in the dance
it's moving, feeling, flowing into space
and suchness
there's nothing to want
each pregnent moemnt rolls forward offering fullness
deliviering breath after breath and with each
the birth of possibility, forgiveness, and direct experience

--Kamala Devi

Free Falling

There's a place I know
Not far from here
where if you listen,
really listen
a little peice of earth cracks open
revealing heaven
and if you sit still enough
you just may slip through this crack,
falling upward into grace.
--Kamala Devi

Pleasure...

Seeking more pleasure.
Surging towards an end which does not exist.
And in the swirling rise and fall,
should you ride a crest so high it's confused for a climax,
Know there is no such pinnacle.
Only the starting point of another wave...
rushing towards more

pleasure.
10/26/05 Kamala Devi

I am the Rose

by which any other name would still be a rose,
I am the  proboscus of the butterfly
unfurling to sip the divine nectar
I am the subline sensory organ of every creature
Every ear, eye, nose tongue and tiny pour
every oraface ever designed for pleasure
even the supreme organ from which new life is born
And I am the crack in the baby's crown  which closes
the moment they identify as other than the mother
And opens again when the master realizes
the thousand petals unfolding from my rose.

Almost Inspired

Kamala relaxes into Me like a plush feather bed
contemplating: what to write.
Beyond the barrage of distractions,
is there an eternal image?

Or are all ideas effervescent
like bubbles in a cocktail glass?

She searches the collage of her consciousness
for something of substance,
and comes up empty.

To Kill a Buddha

Perfectionism-
You stifle and  choke me like  weeds around a budding rose-

I reach my green pointy body towards the sky

Meanwhile, you jeer and laugh at my ugly misshapen head,

Still, I peel back my sheaf and streatch out my arms

revealing the innocent beauty of a decidedly "Late Bloomer"

Ah, but such glory cannot be viewed by the ground

until  I shrink and shrivel, slipping away petal by petal

to fertilize you.

--Kamala Devi <www.blisscoach.com>