As the queen of bling was looking down
Her king took a chance
to exhibit the limit of cleverness
by drawing dolphins right across her chest
while their cowherd friends watched from all around
enjoying pastimes of divine love dance in the full moon night
sing till the morning light
full roses make the leis with symmetry grace their fair forms
all enough to break this world’s charms
murka and I pedaling of course today
to chat with friends in line
off again to the campa hatti
after the snob hill climb
all along the beach the clouds roll by
the wind is blowing hard
still the red sky at night
brings the rhyme’s great delight
natasala is closed today no one waits outside
at the shop I take leave but Murka is going back
along the pedaler’s ramp and asking the bear
just what it takes to read with him
getting dark the Lord wants to play
change his clothes from those he wore today
o deer dough is the nightdress name
celebrating Radhastami is when it first came
and tonight they dress up to play in their nightly game
puts any ordinary fashion to shame
we watch to see
if it is Ekadasi
cause that’s when the kings and queens
dress like the days of old
with Mahaprabhu in fuchsia and Gandharvika in orange
with Giridhari on purple and gold
leis of petals and roses so symmetrical
regal like the queen in days of old
over main street beyond the woods of the long and winding road
Murka and I enter the highway to speak the friends gathered there
Back to the main street crossing over the first highway the whalers are singing in honor of Halloween. The house that taught choc-o-lot to talk-a-lot is doing brisk trade too. The natasala is gearing up for the weekend and I take leave at the shop while Murka turns the corner and talks with the king before darting through the treacherous triangle to the ramp. The bear is still waiting for a call as Murka goes down the wharf road and then under the first highway to heed the call of the ratha-bhojana-vrksa and join in the sandhya
It’s a miracle mom, the nightdress this evening, that Sri Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Giridhari are dancing all night for so long here to invite us all to associate with them in our eternal serving mood.

Fog over the ocean coming up the long and winding
Begging us come to the asrama for darsana
Petals, roses and mums facing the devotees in the leis
the private turns all the lights on so I put on my oak leaves
and the curtain opens to reveal a circle of silver doves on the sila’s skirts
after madyanakali arati go out to pedal with Murka
derailleur making the music Murka and I sing along
keeping the circle of sliver doves in mind flying over the river viraja
pedaling away Gecko and Murka past the ratha-bhojana-vrksa
on the way to the highway posting a picture of “Urvasi” the outfit that if
you look closely you’ll see the circle of white doves in the sila’s corner
such a vision will free your mind from everything that’s really worth nothing at all
so grant all this magnificent fortune and the devotees will all meet in Goloka where Urvasi’s circle of silver doves frees then hearts of one and all
lets them swim in the prema brought by Mahaprabhu pulling the mind by this fishhook from all that’s worth nothing at all.
Pralad-a-dad is the nightdress they wear while the devotees are dreaming of Urvasi and the circle of silver doves can free one from every thing that really means nothing at all

Gaura prema comes from chanting his name
After that life won’t ever be the same!
Acting puggle, the name causes one to laugh and cry
As it takes one to beyond even parivyome
Gaura prema, the salve smeared on ones eyes
Drawing higher the meditative mind
Leis of roses and petals too right in line
A higher life one can’t find
Even if one searches from tomorrow until the end of time
So many visions to post on line that Murka and I stay on the highway lots of time. Then the lion’s park calls where school kids are playing volleyball as one. Up and over the campa hatti hill where there are still a few pink lilies growing near the yard. Fog is coming in at the point of the hook and the kittens play there sliding on their small soft pads. the windmill is on the right and a team is there taking some kind of refreshment. Sufferers are at the edge of the beach near the road collecting driftwood for bon fires later. The natasala has people lined up for the second show. I take leave while Murka breaks for the pedaler’s ramp. The pitch has a game going on and the referee has his yellow and green flag in hand. Under the first highway to the long and winding where the kalarupa takes the pacer role and takes Murka back to the sandhya where another of the parishioners sees Murka pass the drive and then greets him on arriving.
There they are wearing “in the ninth” offered for Guru Maharaja’s vyasa puja and you cannot wait for mangala arati. All night long they’re dancing away
in brahma muhurta, the last of the day
you’ll come for mangala arati
probing deeply “what color and style dress for Janmastami?”
with the seamstress in the sewing room looking at pictures of Thakuras
Praying for Gurudeva’s inspiration as we lay out cloth on a table
speaking with care we recognize the direction and follow it well
as I’m offering arati I hear the young girls talking
of the Thakura’s outfit and colors they don’t have yet
then they come and ask me do they have yellow and red? can't talk so i nod my head. it’s through this conversation that this dress came out of the mouths of babes.
Leis of petals of sumanas flowers and a sprinkling of whole roses to follow movements of their forms
Pedaling from the asrama to the main street crossing over to the highway stepping into an ethereal world where ones and zeros are the dominant language. The snob hill takes Murka and I through the village, which is a little quieter now that the days of summer are behind. Now the cobwebs and pumpkins are the biggest group on the street. Past the sufferers and the sunny cove where the windmill is empty once again. The tennis park is on the right where a pair is playing. Along the toad road where he comes out for the first time in an age saying ‘Gaura Hari’ he joins in at least to where the wharf road meets the long and winding Murka goes north and he goes south and I go on straight with a song in my mouth. Ratha-bhojana-vrksa sees Murka’s folded palms and the kalarupa pedals beside to chase him back to the sandhya greeted by some wascally wabbits.
When the day is over on Monday it’s time for the baby blue nightdress that starts of Tuesday the day of blue. A Radhastami offering that has Giridhari in the reverse of Mahaprabhu and Gandharvika so he won’t blend in to his outfit.

In early days on thirteenth street
the peacocks swooned
dancing in the backdrops behind the thakuras
in time it was retired and put away
it was part of the oldest of all
but it’s in a new dress now
red clarinet flowers making the leis light
they fit so easily, turn out just right
seamstress couldn’t leave the peacocks behind
when she found them
for sure they were the oldest of all
but in a new dress now
another dash this time the space is open and some time is taken talking with friends. As the conversation ends the lion’s park is there and then the campa hatti hill. To the village and between the lakes watching the geese spread their wings toward the sufferers. Straight along with the tennis park on the right. Another campa hatti is there at the corner where Murka and I take the right over the first highway. The parking lot leads on to the dentist where the flea market is on the right too. The long and winding is on the left and ratha-bhojana-vrksa calls Murka and I in a way we can’t refuse. The kalarupa pulls to the sandhya and Vijaya cheers Murka into the barn and on to the altar.
A lion on the chase tonight Nrsimha caturdasi brings another nightdress. Green and purple for Gandharvika and Giridhari with palsies on Mahaprabhu’s sash and chodder They dance around in a timeless fashion while the devotees are dreaming of mangala arati.
Smooth dancing actor is here again
Purple on Friday is the regime
Though the source of all power
He likes to decorate his left ear with a blue flower
An all-conquering sight
defeating the darkness of night
leis of narcissus and roses
we heard this beautiful picture from our guru who knows
All the way to the navapatra after the lion’s park and the coastline where the sufferers are playing Murka is intent on his shopping service to notice the tandems and fixed gear folks that are floating by. The pitch is on the left down the wharf road under the first highway hearing the ratha-bhojana-vrksa call shrilly the kalarupa is pulling Murka to the sandhya. The rabbits are greeting him while hopping from the path to the barn.
Deep within the far off jungle, this nightdress, from the caturdasi as usual Gandharvika’s skirt is big and full while they dance the night way it helps keep the chill of the night air at bay.
When the fog is in the sky
and the bumblebees begin to fly
on Giiridhari’s flute and the Gandharvika’s veil.
This is the night of the amavasya
Crystal clear vision
Brings our mind’s true liberation
“Madhuvrata” the dark moon’s dress
leis of roses whole and petals are so expertly crafted
“Madhuvrata” the dark moon’s dress
across the acres of the long and winding past the ratha-bhojana-vrksa
to the main street through the southland. Returning on the long and winding watching a couple on wheels of their childhood smile as Murka and I pass. then on the right side coming with three dogs another couple winks a smile at the roadies passing. These are the faces coming out of the evening twilight as Murka and I are taken up to the sandhya by the kalarupa.
Hiranyakasipu the nightdress is soft, yellow and gold once again from the Nrsimhacaturdasi they swirl and pirouette through the night waiting for Murka to come and wake them in the morning.
Look what’s happened since taking shelter of Navadvipa
Subjective evolution
What causes the devotees to chant and dance in the street?
Subjective evolution
The puckawalla got his sharp creases and perfect tilak
Our gang looks like a trick-or-treat party with sikhas in dreadlocks
Subjective evolution
Our gang got higher education
The puckawalla got… well
Subjective evolution
What do we try and explain to the old friends we meet?
Subjective evolution
Leis of roses and petals “I’ve got one flower for you and a basket of petals for you” the maker says. Light and fluffy enough to float on the breeze of their gentle dancing.
Subjective evolution
That’s the difference between our gang and the puckawalla
Subjective evolution
From the asrama to the highway where Mahamuni himself is there
to speak with. Murka talks to him about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. The snob hill leads down into the village where the tourists are playing. The sufferers are making the most of the last glimpse of sunshine at the sunny cove. A motorized pedaler slips by with the fossil fuel that smells like a model aeroplane. The shadow on the ground tells me the sun is going down and it’s time to turn to the wharf road along under the first highway to hear the call of the ratha-bhojana-vrksa. Kalarupa takes us back to the sandhya with the deer on the welcoming committee. The sandhya waits and begins after a quick one just before the shank blows.
Creamy silk is so pretty, just as smooth as milk. When your tongue touches his holy name you must know that you are touching Krsna directly
It looks from your cape like you’ve become a king
But can you take me back to the forest?
Gandharvika’s need for service is greatest
Follow her to assist her in the dedication land
Say can we offer these leis with roses and sumanas flowers
We’ve been using them for about thirteen years now
Haven’t gotten “arrested” yet.
This battlefield gave a chance to fulfill seva dreams
Gandharvika’s greatest need brings remuneration supreme
red, white and black cape outfit flowing easy
Deities gentle smiles showing how ordinary happiness is measly
Ah ha the rain was coming down if made from sugar you may melt
pedaling on through the cartoons of my mind how wonderful it felt
between the drops kept Murka and I were dry through narrow sections of the long and winding seeing the open fields with their wild foliage. Smooth strokes of the pedals tight elbows and slim knees. At the sound of the elastic time the sandhya is ready to begin
‘Bhakta Blade! Look at Gandharvika’s skirt!” I blurt out as he is dressing them. “Oh! Ha ha I knew something was wrong!” he says as he sees that the skirt is inside out. East Bengal is where the Ganga isn’t visible. This nightdress is baby blue ‘cause on Tuesday Krsna wears blue at least here.
Come for darsan of your best friend
You’ll wish it would never end
Sandalwood pulp and leis
Propitiate time and extend the days
that we can spend in their merciful rays
of prema coming from their divine plane
flowers for the leis were taken by bhakta blade
but lent his car to bring more so they’d be made
elegant beyond compare
can’t help but stop to stare
the most cool
Mahaprabhu in mango
Giridhari wears his yellow
tradition sits upon the throne
but the blue Gandharvika wears is a choice specifically her own
Radha’s own.
Mahaprabhu’s crown it slips
what jewelry for Giridhari
Bhakta Blade feels his inspiration meander
he comes from the Deity room tugging on his sleeve as if to say
“bring in the left-hander!”
Talking like a pirate, riding on a horse of a different color the devotees are so happy entering Marakatamani Puri
A posse came in from the east
Dressed in pink and green
New mukuts and necklaces
Offered for Gaura Purnima
First time they wore the mukuts
Putting them on was quite the bear
It took tight ribbons and pujaripins in their hair
Surprise of all symmetry in two of three leis
Usually they’re free spirit style especially on Wednesday
Pedaling through to the main street over the first highway
The campa hatti of Seventh Avenue and the field of the clank of the aluminum bat. Going left at the hospital curve
all the way to the tennis park between the lakes where sufferers show their verve
the windmill is still dark and cold without the touch of pedalers
the pitch is on the left and the wharf road straight ahead. Under the first highway on the way to the ratha-bhojana-vrksa. The kalarupa takes murka to the asrama in time for the sandhya
Lotus nails are not a weapon and to keep the benediction in tact but still eliminate the demon Nrsimhadeva used his own nails and cut Hiranyakasipu’s heart. This nightdress from Nrsimha caturdasi is green but take a look in a different way and it’s easy to say It’s orange
Parrot colors all round the person of divine sound
Seamstress said it’s like a jigsaw puzzle to put together
Parrot colors
In a far off time two parrots
spoke In humorous rhyme
Mahaprabhu listened in and reveled
Leis of roses, petals with sunflower centers
rising like the sun turned everyone into a dancer
swirling and swaying with the kirtan chanters
all the way from the asrama past the rath-bhojana-vrksa
through the southland and the wharf road. the sufferers are out in the sunny afternoon. A dog leads it’s epedaler across the street and down a path to the base of the snob hill. Inside a shop “loss prevention” monitors Murka. Speaking into a microphone about “the subject” back to the desk the activities of a dangerous type. Murka laughs and takes the wharf road under the first highway to the ratha-bhojana-vrksa where the kalarupa chases him to the sandya.
In the orange dress, the color of the brahmacari, Giridhari dances through the night with Gandharvika and Mahaprabhu looking on.
Once taking shelter of Sri Guru don’t’ waste time on ordinary talk that’s just a drag on the divine path Saint Patrick’s Easter comes fashionably late.
Devoted souls fall flat before the takura;s feet hoping to capture a relationship so sweet
Do you think you have enough to try and catch Srila Gurudeva’s eye?
Yellow chodders and beautiful cape
You know that there is no mistake
Sri Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Griidhari are “the highest forms of divine love
Leis are mixed around with roses and petals the maker sets them straight
Saint Patrick’s Easter comes fashionably late
Down the long and winding to the main street to the house of Cyrus Liberty The friends there are happy to talk and laugh together then it’s on to the lion’s park with the snob hill coming along Sufferers have left the beach but the cruisers are at the point of the hook between the lakes there are bon fires to beat the cold the natasala is dark and the shop is getting ready for a show on Saturday so I take leave there and Murka goes through the treacherous triangle to the pedaler’s ramp saying “hey” to the bear and taking the wharf road under the first highway to the tune of the Ratha-bhojana-vrksa where the kalarupa leads him to the sandhya
The chill is coming into the air and Sri Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Giridhari slip into their deep within the far off jungle nightdress and get ready for their evening pastimes.
He’ll appear to us in all kinds of places
At music recitals and hayseed parking lots
along the banks of rivers and in airport concouses
where the hares are chanting
come along and here the kirtan
it’ll save your soul when time comes to leave
Yes he’ll appear to us in all kinds of places
From behind velvet curtains
or in ancient temples
come along to the famous cowherd town
where life is simple and thoughts are high
the land of forests milk, curd and cheese
come along where the cowherd boys
frolic with their cows pasture media time
see the leis with petals like jewels
and conscious roses turn their smiling faces to the world
Over the main street and to the snob hill along the shore where the sufferers are in warm wetsuits to block the cold on the point of the hook one of the pemes rolls by on a beast and waves to Murka and i. Murka makes the ‘hi’ sign and pedals along beside until a go light catches up but the beast gets to sneak through. All the other pedalers are dressed up a little more even Murka has a windbreaker today. Around the corner I have to take leave but Murka goes past the reviewing stand through the treacherous triangle and back to the pedaler’s ramp. Say “hey” to the bear who winks with confidence that he’ll make it for the sandhya from the wharf road heading the call of the ratha-bhojana-vrksa the kalarupa makes sure he gets there in good time where the peach profit greets him with his arms held high saying GAURA hari
Into the night wearing the Hiranyakasipu dress, soft colors and cloth. The Thakuras were offered this one Nrsimha Caturdasi to be comfortable in their pastimes of the evening.

Though the modes have you bound and gagged
and you feel you zigged when you should have zagged
can’t you somehow come to the temple for the prema
gurudeva has to give?
It will change your life rearrange your life
if you just diet olive!
Though you’re caught up in the race
without desire to leave this place
can’t you somehow come to the temple?
see gurudeva face to face
change your life, resurrect your life
if you just diet olive!
From the highest brahmaloka
to the lowest of the patalas
neither are destinations you want to gota
can’t you somehow come to the temple for the highest
prospect you can imagine
change your vision, resurrect your vision
if you just diet olive!
Asrama to the highway for a quick one. Leaving already? The host. Murka is going to test the meridians. As fast as sprinting will take Murka and I along the broad way over Saint Dagwood’s river. Around the corner where the stars rise Back along the route where fixed gear people are flying. A couple of mountain men are lost looking for their park Murk gives directions. Down the pedaler’s ramp speaking with the bear and the navapatra. The pitch is on the right where a game is raging. The wharf road takes Murka under the first highway answering the call of the ratha-bhojana-vrksa. The kalarupa takes Murka the rest of the way to the sandhya where the fawns skip away from the boy on the small horse with round legs.
It’s a miracle mom! The night dress that never ceases to amaze one and all in it’s simplicity. Dancing and dancing they jump into their beds decorated with transcendental puspes
Is there any more to say? While Murka and I are pedaling through the long and winding on the wings of an airplane of a swan in a blanket of flowers coming in for darsana of the best friend of everyone and he’s got a peacock feather dipped to his left eye.
His turban has more pearls than it used to do and Murka says they look brighter than usual ‘remember when the second seamstress called this the Govardhana puja outfit? And there were cows, peacocks, snakes trees and even flowers on the hill of butter, sugar and farina?”
“Yeah!” I answer “and B.C. wouldn’t let anyone circle the hill for fear of his shadow?”
Well today Murka had a shadow that watched as he played along with the effulgence and flipped Mahaprabhu’s earring up high catching it behind his back.
Now you know good and well he don’t offer margarine so you fill the banana bread full of chocolate chips and draw a happy face out of lipstick for frosting, oh his shadow knows …the flute’s song about the avadhuta
It’s wonderful when Mahaprabhu has mostly pink with his purple and Gandharvika has color just the same as him.
After such a day the cool of the early evening has given way to the warming of the waning moonlight and the nightdress ‘”deep within the far off jungle” is what they are wearing tonight.
The vegans cry
So much butter but why
butter lets prasadam slide down the throat
there’s even butter in the water you know
he hypnotized me “make the whole offering of butter”
50% butter is the recipe for halavah butter in the bowl
watch it overflow cause you Krsna loves it butter
Krsna eats through the mouths of the Brahmins
Prasadam dripping with ghee this outfit is that color
with wispy chodders and leis of petals and stargazer lilies
the devotees they adore it
off to a real nowhere destination. Murka and I make the rounds of the barn and the green hills of “the land”. Hearty folks are out against elements like wind and chilly fog. Lots of electric and motorized pedalers are out in their heavy coats. At the sound of the tone the sandhya calls Murka back past the ratha-bhojana-vrksa with the kalarupa taking the time to make sure the ceremony is about to begin.
Hiranyakasipu, gold and soft bed this nightdress from Nrsimhacaturdasi a couple of years ago. Takes them into the night with Murka feeling a bit under the weather, foggy and a little chilled. Still Sri Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Giridhari go on enjoying like anything.
Have you heard about Gandharvika?
Giridhari’s topmost servitor
Gurudeva has come to teach her love to the entire world
Taking shelter of his lotus feet will take us out of this lonely world
See her train in this outfit? Coming down from her madhuryadhuti giving the shining light of divine love to all who will take it.
Her sweet luster attracting all to give up this world
It only takes Gurudeva’s magic spell to transform the iron into gold
Creamy white with pink sequins in the diamond pattern
Like a harlequin bringing good humor to one and all
See the train a flowing
Simple leis of roses and stargazer lilies that sway while Sri Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Giridhari dance in ways that even they themselves are amazed
Murka and I are only having a short conversation with a couple of friends. The ratha-bhojana-vrksa is urging Murka and I to pedal fastest and farthest extent that the kalarupa will allow. Around the southland to the lion’s park and the campa hatti to the beach where the sufferers are trying to keep warm and dry. The fog makes it cool and damp. The redone road takes Murka and I to the natasala and sees the new shop even though it is after hours. Around the corner to the reviewing stand Through the treacherous triangle to the pedaler’s ramp to the tennis park. Between the lakes where the cruiser king had a big van with cruisers for sale set up in front of the van. The windmill sees some pedalers stopped there having a drink of some kind. On to the wharf road with the pitch on the left a game is in full swing people cheering and clapping like crazy. Under the first highway the ratha-bhojana-vrksa calls Murka back for the sandhya. The kalarupa is chasing Murka to the sandhya and Om Paramahamsa thakura rides his beast past both.
Is it coincidence or is it by design that here on the eighth day of the waning moon that they are wearing “in the ninth”? since the morning will be the ninth. Isvara sarva bhutanam hrd dese arjuna tisthati directing the wanderings of all living entities, he says in the Bhagavad-gita. Dancing all night in celebration
Ribbons hanging in the air, appliqués still falling everywhere,
it’s yantra puri
in another land he smashed the pillar with his hand
much to his surprise
the lion appeared before his eyes
guru maharaja assured it’s just the motor city kitty
and come along or come alone
he’s sent me to show y’all the way home
leis of roses, baby’s breath and gandharaja
taking his name we’ll touch him with our tongues
how much fun it will be to see
the abode of yantra puri
pedaling through the meanderings of my mind
on Cyrus ‘ highway to speak with friends Mruka and I might find there the rain is beginning to come down and the pedalers have their umbrellas over their rigs some with multi gears and some with only one but the rain can’t end their mirth nothing from the o’er hanging firmament the air look you! Pedaling bliss is over all
Guru Maharaja’s birthday party ends with the Thakuras in their baby blue nightdress as they have from the view of the Radhadesa, the land in Bengal where the Ganga doesn’t flow and the blue God wears the white
By ocean shore the weather was chaning
Sun had gone away and the sky is crying
when we heard the kirtan roar
we wanted to go and see what the Deities wore
.Aruna, Nila and Syama LIVE in the arena of pure consciousness
is the name of the outfit
seamstress in the sewing room with cloth she got for a song
swamis there for arati wondering where the pujari’s gone
Aruna, Nila, and Syama LIVE in the arena of pure consciousness
Is the name of the outfit
Leis of roses mums and daisy pompoms
No mrdunga for the kirtan so some plays a tom-tom
NK plays some J.S. Bach
and the devotees rock
Aruna Nila,and Syama LIVE in the arena of pure consciousness
Is the outfit’s name
Out in the rain for the first time in a year or more just had to have fruit from the store Even though Murka and I take the short route the rain catches pedalers with a drench
Prahlad-a-dad is the nightdress. The usual Nrsimhacaturdasi offering that features a panel skirt for Srimati Gandharvika. Giridhari has a vest over his coat with a sash while Mahaprabhu has the standard dhoti, kirta, sash and dhoti as simple as that and they dance and dance through the night.
Coming down the long and winding from the backside
I told Murka lets take it home
So both got down on the drops and hammered
straight on to the asrama door
and grains weren’t on the table
nor did red and green have a place on the palate
passing under the cascade slipping behind the curtain
pushing it open one, two, three four,
devotees were absorbed in what the Deities wore
drinking it in they counted the stars on Giridhari’s cloak
carrying their minds up to Goloka
and grains weren’t on the table
nor did red and green have a place on the palate
Leis of roses, leaves, and lilies with a hint of a pattern
floating gently as the dance and turn
fragrance will steal your mind
and grains aren’t on the table
nor do red and green have a place on the palate
just don’t beak the Ekadasi rule
one year on Radhastami
while Caitanya Caritamrta was being read
the seamstress came upon this green and silver and
neatly sewed them into this nightdress
while the Deities took rest ‘till Murka was gone
then they came out and danced the rest of the night away

Nityananda Prabhu is showering his mercy
It’s going to find you wherever you are
the job is to become a fit receptacle
while we’re without it here
there will only be pain and fear
preme kirtan doesn’t worry if it’s fair
Nityananda’s krpa goes everywhere
victorious over one and all
“Yes, I want it” is all you have call
leis of roses, leaves and chrysanthemums
as they dance some of the flowers break and fall
wear a long kirta like the Brahmins in the old days
a long kirta with a jeweled belt
take a bright star and place it
in a bracelet and call the outfit superstar.
From the asrama to feed the bear and around to the navapatra for something for paramanna. Looping around the village and the beach. The natasala is dark tonight so the people just roam the street. Saint Dagwood’s park is full of people playing guitars, tossing Frisbees and playing with dogs. Families are pedaling by. Murka and I are in a different tattva just pedaling now to the highway. After the exit it’s to the market for fruit and flowers. Around the seventh avenue comes another cruiser gang who wave and smile as our paths cross. The hospitals parking lot takes Murka to the southland and around to heed the call of the ratha-bhojana-vrksa and the kalarupa. Racing me all the way to the sandhya. The Kernel of Divine love is near the eucalyptus grove to greet him on the return and the ceremony is about to begin some flowers are picked and the shank is blown.
The lotus nails to night. Is it orange or green, depends on which side you look from. Nrsimha caturdasi brought this nightdress. They are quick to get into it for it has been a long day and the night is yet to come with pastimes to make all forget their mundane cares

Reading a book of Bengali poetry
From the renaissance century
Each of the verses demonstrated the inner wealth of the soul
Their explanations ring so true
this day when the Thakuras are dressed in beautiful blue
those famous five brothers
were afraid their lives might make a devotees life look to rough
cheated in a dice game, living incognito
all those years show it can be tough
this day when the Thakuras are dressed in beautiful blue
leis of full roses and sumanas flowers
light so they easily sway as the thakuras dance for hours
crossing over the main street only a couple of friends wait there. Through the lion’s park and up the campa hatti hill in route to the navapatra puspam phalam for the offerings where the fixed gear freaks are common here. Circling the pitch while there is a game that appears to be important back by the beach where the sufferers are trying to keep warm. The natasala is dark until the weekend. I take leave there while Murka takes the house that taught choc-o-lot to talk-a-lot street to the redone road left back to the main street over the first highway. The beasts are making it difficult to answer the call of the ratha-bhojana-vrksa but with the move of a messenger he folds his palms in compliance to SGM’s request. Kalarupa takes me for the sandya and the deer are there to greet me.
Om paramahamsa thakura dresses them tonight. The two of us are finished about the same time. Gandharvika’s hair is a little are tricky heavy in the back but he pulls through without a hitch for the horse of a different color that the devotees are riding into the marakata mani puri while talking like pirates!

In the fresh, clear light of this Kartik morning
I go for darsana of the lifter of Govardhana hill
asking who made the outfit and what is it’s name?
with palms folded coming to attention before
Giridhari in yellow flanked by Mahaprabhu in blue
and Gandharvika in purple grape
singing Kartik bhajanas and watching blog t.v.
leis of roses, mums and spaced with green leaves
Murka and I get to the highway and connect with a pippin on the way to the campa hatti. Looping around the navapatra to get some whole food. All along the beach the sufferers are in cue for the biggest wave. The thakura has his jacket on and a new lei on top of that. On to the natural bridge to swing by Della wearing a new jersey on to the laguna. Looking over the beach hill to see the mountain men going on like there is no wind. At the shop I take my leave while Murka negotiates the treacherous triangle to the redone road keeping the tennis park on the right. Spinning all the way to the main street and crossing the first highway to the lot and beyond the birth center to the call of the ratha-bhojana-vkrsa where the kalarupa takes murka to the sandhya the kernel of divine love is there as the welcome wagon
The touch that kills all desires for the fruit of labor Red Chinese silk along with creamy white dancing late night, the second of the month.
Years ago, days gone by
the seamstress tried to name the outfits by colors
ah but an evil one choose ones that made her cry
then by holidays if she had her ‘drathers
but switch to pictures as he did soon left her eyes dry
‘twas evil Sukuni who cheated the five brothers

What is it that she relishes?
Without being her I can't know
Yuga avatar this time will show
Yellow and blue combine together
As green
Kirtan such that has not been seen
It's saturated with prema
In this age just chant the holy name
As demonstrated by
Yellow and blue combine together as green
Rose leis one breaks 'cause of weak thread
Time for a remake
Yellow and blue combine together as green
Being followed by a shadow
Slows me down while
Yellow and blue combine together as green
Short and fast as the highway rejects murk
Around to the lion's park and the compa hatti
To the point of the hook and then the redone road
Natasala and the shop calls me away while Murka goes through the Sain Dagwood park on the way to Hari Nama. The pedalers ramp where the bear says hey and the wharf road and fixed gear folks lead on to the beat of the ratha-bhojana-vrksa and the kalarupa takes murka home to the place he belongs .
The temperature is going down but the night is clear and starry. Deep within the far off jungle the lion sleeps tonight. While the thakuras dance and sing with flowers showering
Giridhari’s turban and rhinestone mukuts
Reflecting the rivers of nectar flowing from the hearts
Of the moon like devotees
Calls us to leave this mundane universe
Offered on the vyasa puja day
White silk as smooth as milk
the gold trim on Giridhari’s cape
as they engage in their divine play
causing the devotees to dance their way away from this universe
leaf and rose leis resting on their shoulders
mixed with locks of curling hair
framing their smiling lotus faces
inciting and inviting all to leave this universe
the windy day blows the Murka and I away the highway is too far away. The lion’s park is filling up with leaves being blown from the trees. Along the beach the sufferers are huddled together trying to keep warm. Bon fires won’t catch ‘cause of the wind. People are lining up outside the natasala for the next show. The shop is still moving and I have to help out so take my leave while Murka rounds the corner past the reviewing stand. The pedaler’s ramp is fast with the wind at his back and then the tennis park is on the left between the lakes the geese are also hiding from the chilly wind. The windmill is dark and cold too. There aren’t too many pedalers out today staying from the wind. The pitch is on the left too. Under the first highway heeding the call of the ratha-bhojana-vrksa to get back for the sandhya dust in the air to greet him today and the rabbits scatter hearing the wheels.
Gold and soft bed of Hiranyakasipu give them rest from the windy day into the full moon night

The crystal beads come together when they dance
In the parsley sage rosemary and time
Trimming the black and silvery chodder
In the parsley sage rosemary and time
silvery pleats on Gandharvika's sari too
with the deep forest green
in parsley, sage, rosemary and time
Mahaprabhu's chodder with a black flying “V”
next to his dhot and kirta of deep forest green
in the parsley sage rosemary and time
leis of elegant roses and mums
some turn to face the devotees
in the parsley sage rosemary and time
this exit closed said the sign as Murka and I came upon the highway. So circling the southland the beasts are lined up all they way to the snob hill where the tourists are. Up to the beach and the point of the hook. Cruisers are there with their suffering boards attached. Murka and Ii are heading to the natasala so there isn't time to talk. At the shop I take my leave and Murka takes the corner where the cruiser king sits in judgment
on the sunny afternoon. Pedalers ramp takes Murka to the navapatra where a fixed gear is tethered. Keeping the pitch on the right the wharf road take Murk under the first highway to heed the call of the ratha-bhojana-vrksa where the kalarupa takes off to the sandhya where the asrama deer is there to greet me. At first he thinks I might be a foreigner and is apprehensive then recognizes me and smiles.
Just believe in the words “Krsna is a brahmacari” and all things are possible. In the purple and orange the Thakuras take their rest, ready for dancing under the waxing moon.

Someone with a broom is sweeping the turmeric
Spilled by a famous woodsmen’s wife
A fearless person called it a poor man’s saffron
The queen in days of old remind it’s ekadasi, mother of spiritual life
a windy day at the asrama
when the last arati has been offered
and the thakruras have been put to bed
you might still hear Mahaprabhu chanting
Sankara Pandit sitting by his bed
Will there be any more ekadasis this month when devotees all fast?
No a look at the calendar tells us this one is the last
and the thakuras are dress in the queen in days of old
leis of small white and pink flowers that once danced with the earth
they don’t last too long but still added to the mirth
of the ekadasi celebration and all the observance is worth
to the highway where Murka spent too much time talking with friends. The lion’s park and the campa hatti saw Murka and I fly by just about as fast as possible for a couple of aging roadies. The village to the point of the hook some cruisers are there going for a non ekadasi special. Between the lakes there are sufferers looking for coats due to the chill in the wind. By the time the natasala comes and I take leave the wind has almost blown Murka and I off the street three times. Still Murka sneaks through the treacherous triangle to the redone road. Keeping the tennis park on the right he sprints to the main street. Through the hospital parking lot running away from a city bus. Drive in and a yarn shop pass by while southland takes Murka to wharf road and a quick turn around. Hearing the call of ratha-bhojana-vrksa Kalarupa makes sure Murka is there to let the ceremony begin.
Pralad-a-dad this evening. They like to dance under the stars to pass the night away until Murka comes to wake them in the morning.
Some prabhus take the ‘haribol jal’
Their dhotis creases are much sharper than ours
Their kirtas are an alert orange while ours are slowly fading fast
Still our gurdeva has the clear concept
in fact he’s the head of the Rupanuga line
conclusions from the Ramananda samvada mine
in a orange red and brown
with flowers embroidered all around
that’s the difference between the puckawalla and our gang
lies of roses, orchids and a few leaves free style
with a hint of symmetry
pedaling as quickly as possible Murka and I bow to the ratha-bhojana-vrksa and circle the southland on to the wharf road under the first highway. Going all the way to the beach and the hook of the point where an e-pedaler looks on and Murka and I get a snicker as he gets smaller in the rear view mirror. Between the lakes are people trying to warm themselves as the sun is beginning to go down and Murka and I continue toward town. At the shop I take leave and Murka goes around the Saint Dagwood park to come up behind me again. He continues on to the pedaler’s ramp and high-fives the bear. The wharf road takes him back under the first highway once again and the ratha-bhojana-vrksa beckons him back sending the kalarupa to pace him back for the sandhya where everyone is in just hoping the ceremony is about to begin.
as this week more are able to feed the deer it’s fitting that they wear the “O deer dough” nightdress this evening. They stay up a little late this evening dancing under the warm starry night.