Sonnet for the Illuminous

Some confuse the New Moon with the Bright
but refuse their True Moon ever to consult
Some live in safely Luminous Night
and call Truth's dangerous Daylight "the Occult"
Some call their little fragments Wholeness
while fragging Memory to pure Morass
Some call their Weak Defenses their Great Soulness
while they whip poor Balaam's precious Ass
Some call their use of others "Sacrifice"
Friends are Shafts — Enemies are Staffs
Some are only nice to get The Nice
but John? he watches waits... and laughs

That Brooding Silence bought by scorning
might pray in darkness — but can't talk in the morning

fuck off, demons

 “mortal, but once we enjoyed the masquerade
  now we see clearly, all things perishing”

                          - the vidyadhara, chökyi gyatso 

listen up, john, you stupid motherfucker
go ahead
go beat your stupid head against your stupid wall

everywhere children die of your idiot compassion
eyeless in Gaza?
you wish, you bleeding bag of gas

confess
you murdered your dad
and slept with your mom
you plotted extermination of jews and palestinians
soccer moms and bankers
masters of war
your ex-wives' lovers and therapists
and your own pathetic heart

meditating à l'ermitage du ressentiment
on the Guru of Revenge
you made this whole charade up, pal

live in it

but in the real hermitage he gave me with a smile
my Teacher laughs:

“gather the six senses and offer them to Me
I will conquer the ugly heart of America
your ugly heart, john
tsokdruk rangdrol
I will turn the bloody gaze of your 5 Eyes inward”

fuck off demons

 
       - tsokdruk rangdrol
                  aka
         crazy stoner john

I bow down to the Lord of the Universe

I bow down to YOU my dear friends and enemies

I bow to everyone like you who has ever lived or ever will
I bow to your reactive patterns
I bow to your distractions
I bow to your emotions and complex thoughts and stories
I bow to your dream of a permanent happy self
I bow to the knots in your stomach, the choking in your throat
I bow to the contraction in your heart
I bow to the tears in your eyes
I bow to your anger, your hunger without end
I bow to your stupidity, your busy silly life
I bow to your fearful arrogance and blissed out pride
I bow to you who know them all

I bow down to the Lord of the Universe!
the Hermaphroditic King and Queen of Great Compassion
with as many faces as the Stars
as many arms as the rays of the Sun

Please look here!
I wander the Six Realms
lost and confused with my enemies and friends
Please let me never forget them!

When you place Your Certainty in the soles of my feet
let me never forget we are hesitant, doubtful and indecisive

When you nest in the Palace of Bliss in my loins

let me never forget we are pained, frustrated and obsessed

When you take your Seat of Power and satisfaction in my gut

let me never forget we are hungry, weak and helpless

When you sit on the warm Flower of Peace and Love in my heart

let me never forget we are angry, bitter cold and resentful

When you sing the Angelic Chorus in my throat

let me never forget we are hoarse, tongue-tied and stupid

When you gaze from the Not-Two Eye of insight in my forehead

let me never forget we are duped by division and decision

When you open the Clear Sky above my forehead

let me never forget I must stay here with my enemies and friends

Radiant Lord, Kind Heart of my Teacher
once more I touch my forehead to the ground
Please visit me here
please look on us all with your eyes of Love
and please grant your Grace
that I might live and die for the benefit of others

OM MANI PADME HUNG

[edited from The Universal Bow for my own daily practice. - john o.]

o domina sicut vela

Here in this nest of crickets and cicadas
the egg of John's mind cracks
Wise Serpent mind of Fool
breaks open for Gentle Dove
o domina sicut vela
unwrap Your Veil and let it fill

with Wind

Sail me over Holy Trinity in East Springfield
Father Patrick's parish - how kind of you
to bring an Igbo saint to my fellow Ozark crackers!
Sail me up to St Louis where Father Lewandowski
paints the Blues at St Anthony's
then, when the Spirit blows where it will
up to the sweet Kentucky woods
to laugh with Father Louis Freed by Murder
at the lusts of the CIA cheese monks

Up over to Mundelein where Word on Fire
burnt Baby Bobby Barron
then up and over more, to Detroit
the Borderline
Past London and Toronto's phallus
past Kingston and my little suburban Ottawa Church
where lovely Father I forget his name
preached the Catholic tantra
across the Wide Way that opens to the North
where God's Holy Cold Singularity
colors your warm bright Sail

Oh oh, oh...  Mom!

Stop at Tim Horton's please!
Give me one warm corporate sweet
in this Vast Cool Space
Bless the hot coffee of the lost traveler
then onward past bittersweet Hudson
past the Airport and the Golf Course
and the lonely warehouses
Sail me over the Holy Shrine of Your Cucked Hubby
Pray for us, Mighty Prole!
Who cared for You and Your Fierce Baby!
Sail me into Montreal to Monkland
on Coolbrook

I'll wait outside

Not for beggar John
your beautiful breeze of Holiness
Blow it on my beautiful Diotima
Blow it on the crying Child in her Sacred Heart

O kind Mother of the Lion with a Sword
Tell her what to do
or let her decide or... ?

This stupid beggar only knows
Your Wild Free Love in lonely places
the Fierce Child of Wisdom and Holiness
the Kind Sword that cuts out the Heart
judges it in the gutter
and destroys the World with Love

Not for John to follow You
into the contortions of the vowed

Kind Lady, keep me safe!
Never let me fly without your beautiful pure Sail!
And help my beautiful Diotima
love as she must!


John Omniadeo
August 19, 2025