Hare_Krishna

{text:bookmark-start} "I Just Want the Truth" {text:bookmark-end} Excerpts from songs by Run Devil Run. The age of Kali-Yuga, quarrelsome. What can be done now' We struggle to live in this world As the banner of death unfurls. There must be authority—or disarray. We must seek authority—TODAY! —From "Struggle for Existence" I've gotta take what's dealt my way, and with a grain of salt I'll try to learn from my mistakes. I won't depend on a crutch, because the temple of the jiva is ignorance. The senses are just paths leading to death, and when I answer their demands, I know where I am led, more pain, sorrow, remorse, so I'll just make the best with what I have and answer no more! —From "Temple of Jiva" Everybody's out to tell me their way's the only way. Well, action speaks louder than words, so show me what you've got to say. Don't forget, when you point your finger there's always three pointed back at you. I respect your good intentions, but I just want the truth. —From "Forcefed Reality" Look around the world, nothing but a lie. People dropping every day, but we don't ask why. Watching all the world destined to die. Missing opportunities, human life passed by. —From "I Could Be" *Krishna Krishna*... Krsna Bells * Row Row*, Row Our Boat Row, row, row our boat carefully across the sea. Prabhupada´s our captain, We´ll be safe you´ll see! Twinkle, Twinkle, Big Pole Star Twinkle, twinkle big Pole Star There resides Maharaja Dhurava Up above the world so high Like a diamond in the sky Twinkle, twinkle big Pole Star There resides Maharaja Dhurava Dear Krishna, You supply all devotees with sufficient amount of You to always help us keep our minds off evil Maya and on Your Holy Name, Fame and Form— and we never come down from the sweet sufficient amount— As we chant we only proceed up from that point, at Your pleasure— Forever— Love {text:bookmark-start} Poem by Bhaktajan {text:bookmark-end} High ring - low moan Chanting the sacred mantra Propelling the spiritual part of us into oblivion While the illusion of this material day Slowly drifts into the now meaningless mire of the material world. Years go by Frantic searches for possession of the vanishing things of earth, while an oblivion, so staggering, is waiting for those whose good fortune it is to be able to comprehend the Consciousness of Krishna. Giant servant in a land of midgets, who claim to have freedom. They are servants of things that vanish before their eyes Tomorrow, cherished things will vanish And hands will clap for the magician And eyes will cry for the loss Singers' beautiful voices - dry with age While spirits and God throw thousands of enlightenments into their path - only to be over-shadowed by the rain forest of the physical, the perishable worshipped while the never ending is ignored But, there are those who have tasted the Nectar of Krishna's sweet fruit And, have lost taste for everything else For them this world, too, is bliss. Bhaktajan das Brahmachary (John Kinney) {text:bookmark-start} My Position {text:bookmark-end} i've grown accustomed to the birth of infants who grow into children; mature; and die— like i am doing. And, i've grown accustomed to the bloom of the earth every spring and its demise every winter. The oceans i've crossed, the far-away mountains, the sky, the nightly stars, the concrete cities and the atomic bomb; my body that is steadily running down— there is nothing that surprises me; it is all part of this life on this planet. But when i hear that universes, infinite in number, (which means i cannot conceive how many) are created by a single exhalation of breath of Mahavishnu, who is only a single portion of You; or that You as Baby Krishna contain all these uncountable-by-me universes within Your mouth: then for me to consider myself a god is perverse. Look what i rule!— these few square inches i stand upon on this planet; and for only the next 50 years, or the next few minutes, (what control do i have'). i deserve this punishment of standing here on my square inch kingdom, suffering separated, with death being no escape but only a reinstatement into the suffering. Oh my Lord God, i do not know Who You are! i hear that You are All-Knowledge, All-Bliss, Absolutely. i am lower than the dust on the temple floor which serves by being walked upon by the Lotus Feet of my Spiritual Master; yet i think myself gorgeous, proclaiming myself the enjoyer of this body, and other bodies, and what i perceive with these senses; and enjoying them (trying) like anything. i am a fly that rubs its hands together and drools over a piece of excrement. Is it any wonder that i suffer from not knowing who i am! i have not surrendered. i have not surrendered. i am a strutting lord, thinking (deep-down) i know what puffed-up Brahma (the four-headed one) cannot know. Only Your pure devotees know. So, i sit here, chanting Your Holy Names, weeping for You Who i do not know. Brahmananda das Brahmachary (Bruce Scharf)