To worship God Shiva linga hundreds of kilo-liters of milk being wasted
Imagine how many hundred of proletarian child could have been served with nutritious food in such quantities of milk
for some days.
Please hang me as a heretic
Such as Copernicus who was killed by the fanatic
But know that I was
the truth.
(Shivratri is one of the ritual of the Hindus.
In this day lakhs of woman pour a lot of milk upon an idol called shivlinga in the temple)
Feeling to do
Hands cry to handle the pain
Hands touch the stone hard
Hands slap the river of tears
Hands hold the image of your
Beauty
Hands search the best time to think about you
Hands doesn't give the real sense of kaam
Feeling to do pary to shiv linga for the nature
of kaamsutra in India
Beauty hold the dream of many ancient
thought feeling to do.....
With love all
Jagdish bajantri
Fly blown soul
Seven levels to attain,
It aint what the preachers’ saying,
Different spheres and worlds in void,
Different times, some get destroyed ,
Fly blown soul it travels on,
{meanwhile psychic downloading}
No-nettete known as treacle draws,
Often downloads two by fours, {4x2}
Builds a mental laughing sock,
Keeps a battery in her frock,
Cos sometimes are enjoyed,
Drifting through the nether void,
Seeing places I’m employed,
The child of a nasty Jock,
Killed my cat, got bashed a lot,
But spirit caint be destroyed!
Soul entangled here and there,
Different ages colours rare,
Doing time, gills sucking air,
It’s all a Linga-lung-fish, got?
Seven levels to attain,
Getting home can test the brain,
Don’t rob the poor, is understood,
Greed does drag you down, it should,
Back In the lower ranks again,
Going black 2 Nigeria for the pain,
2 Slide Up a level, please abstain?
twisted virus maker serves,
ironic twists he gets, deserves,
a frozen puter is his lot, {sue hickey bit}
down with frozen Dingo Dot.
Plug-in sheep 4 wireless server?
Or bloody not:}
Don Johnson
Imbecilic
By the shores of imbecilic,
Butt painted with acrylic
Was a lunatic without much enterprise,
By the shores of linga-longer
Out past the dead Dingoes donga,
Was a man not used 2 telling many lies,
With a fornication permit,
And an itch that needed, worm wit,
Eyeball on a different orbit,
In his eye,
Cos he cannot find his dinger,
Bells frigged without a ringer,
Cos OP rum will only paralyze,
Guess ya canna well absorb it,
Being well rubbed with de morbid
With vix he needs to daub-it
Till the maggots multiply,
Till the imbecilic spell,
Leaves ole Johnson fairly well,
And he staggers off,
With all unbuttoned flys… Don Johnson
Silence
Beware the silence in your head,
Best check to see if you are dead,
The words are there but nothing said,
Blood does flow, still bloody red,
Prospect uninviting,
Sandgoannas are a fighting,
They want to eat old Fred
Don Johnson
if you're dying in the donga,
by the shores of linga longa,
and the dingoes howl cos tuckers on the way,
and the crows are circling yonder,
upon a feed to ponder,
but the Goannas have it covered here today:)
went to the Shiva temple
with a bottle of Ganges water
and honey and blue flowers
started worshipping
Lord Shiva
at that spur
an ill clad infinitesimal boy
in dirty garbs and ruffled hair
came and sat in front of
the Shiva Linga
Is it 'He' in his form?
Trying to distract my attention
from satisfying a natural 'God'
than an inanimate statue
or an extra distraction
standing as a barrier
in the way of rites, rituals and prayers
and not being able to reach the destination.
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