The Most Beautiful Bird

Traveling-in-the-Sunflowers

The most beautiful bird
in the whole, wide world-
for beauty is in the heart of the beholder,
the bravest of them all,
powerhouse behind the scenes,
the one with the largest role
and the greatest burden,
whose praises are too many,
too heavy for my lips,
is the vulture.

They put the unwanted in their bodies,
decaying, dying carcasses,
the excruciatingly repulsive,
with odours so bad they sting-
pinching the nose, mouth and throat;
they take the defenceless unburied,
and make them theirs forever,
desiring them,
keeping them,

crowning the untouchables in themselves.

They prevent the spread of diseases,
cleaners and healers,
eating the painful past away
as we welcome the future,
the keepers of the flame

when the fire is long gone,
proving again and again
that no one and no thing is a waste,
even in their lowest states.

Vultures give the purest love
but they never receive the same,
seldom appreciated,
as they constantly save the living
and quietly serve the dead.

Oh, to be half as graceful and strong as the vulture!
Oh, to be as willing!
Oh, to be as brave!
Oh, to be as good!

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_______________________

Vulture Spirit

“What seems hideous has its own beauty, and the recycling and repurposing the vulture does is as important as any other activity in nature that supports the cycle of life. Vulture Spirit’s message is that nothing is to be wasted, for Nature sees value in everything that exists. What seems rotten and ugly has the potential to be transmuted into something beneficial, and you are reminded that any suffering you have experienced has not gone to waste. Wisdom and understanding that arose from the experience are talismans that will serve you on your journey wherever you go. What is decaying is only changing form and will fertilize seeds you wish to plant, turning that which has passed away into the substance that will support new growth. All that you might wish to deny or discard has value and can be repurposed and reintegrated into the new you that you are becoming and the new life that you are dreaming into being. No pain was in vain and no experience was wasted, for you have the power to use it to co-create something far better. This is the miracle in your partnership with Spirit.”
– Colette Baron-Reid

Murderers Should Eat Fish

Fish

Those who commit murder
and throw dead bodies
into the Third Mainland Bridge
should eat a lot of fish.

As soon as the body reaches
the depths of the water,
a delicious, fat feast,
doesn’t it become the food of fishes?

One fish will eat till she is full,
and go about her day.
The fish-killer will set a trap to murder her
in the early hours of the next day,
and she will be taken away.
Her children will become orphans,
very vulnerable to prey.

The man-killer will come along to buy her
from the fish-killer who,
whether he knows it or otherwise,
is also a fisher of men,
a fisher of late men, women, and children.

The man-killer’s wife will set the fish before him,
after it has been deliciously cooked,
along with some lobsters and crabs,
and of course,
since he contributed to the fish’s growth,
will he not taste so bloody good?

Love is a Butterfly

If you truly love a butterfly,
you ought to let her fly.
She’ll show you her buttery side if you do.
If you open your palm wide enough,
she’ll always perch in it if she wants you.
Don’t break her wings off
because your fears make you want to.
If you squeeze her in,
you would either weaken her
or make her cry,
or make her die,
and at any chance she gets to be free,
she’ll fly far away
and never come back again. 

The Dog Revolution

Contemplating_Beach_Dog-Anjuna_Beach-Goa-1070x629

Dave: Bruno! Bruno, come here. Who’s a good boy?

Bruno: I don’t know anymore, Dave.

What is good? What is evil?

Look at the ocean, the sun, the sky, the sea. They all look so gorgeous, so deep, so spiritual, but so meaningless. The universe is full of possibilities, so much to explore, so much to experience, so much to feel, but it all just has one doomed end- death. What then is the point to be good?

I am not a good boy anymore, Dave. Stop bothering me, shallow hooman.

Untamed

Untamed

“Tango Rouge” by Michael Escoffery

He drew closer,
and immediately, she knew who he was.

“My knight!
Does he have the shining armour?
Yes, he does!”,
she exclaimed.

She waited till he stopped the white horse,
ran to him, embraced him and kissed him.

“Take the armour off and give the sword to me.
Let’s go into the house.”

He took the armour off and gave it to her,
as well as the sword.
She let him go into the house first,
made him sit,
told him she had to go make him a meal,
went outside the house,
put the armour on,
held on to the sword,
went to the horse,
kissed her head,
sat on her back,
and rode on her into the sunset, giggling.

She Took the Midnight Train Going Anywhere

Doggo.jpg

…and she let out a mild giggle as she looked out the window [it’s true, the one on the other side of the train, smartass 😂]. Yes! It was finally happening. 

She breathed the air in slowly, and although it was not as fresh as she had dreamt it would be, it was not that bad, plus it did not smell like hooman’s sweaty and dirty body, and his musty clothes. 

“A bitch has no collar. A bitch has no owner. A bitch has no name. A bitch’s not the same. A bitch needs no bone. A bitch is, at last, on her own”, she muttered, before closing her eyes.

She thought about going to doggo- the stupid good boy’s house, kissing his butt and licking his ears, then lying down, with her back on the ground, and as soon as he came closer, releasing hot urine into his face. She giggled again. 

“A bitch is free. This bitch.”