The End Commune Poet I do not know?

Poem To Lal Ded

my hunters' bow was bent to shoot -
   but i had no arrows!
   instead i had to take my feelings...
   and then i arched the bow once again. 

i charged the bellows and my throat with breath 
    but only fire spurted out!
     now i have to use lava
     instead of words...

my senses fattened 
     like five rams for slaughter - 
     so i fed them the grain of psychedelia;
     now i see things i shouldn't see...

the mortars of love-madness 
    continue their bombardment...
    i seek shelter...
    the shelling persists relentlessly -
    my fortress lie in ruin...

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