Red-Light Bardo

Kelly Evans: Bold bard of the trance dimensions

RED-LIGHT BARDO

After slipping from peace in the field of Love
From the non-dual space often called White Light
The refreshed soul stripping its higher bodies
Through a series of dream-like events like life
Encounters experiences evoked by personality
The waves woven in Aether called Habit-in-Life
The sex bardo is one of the grand central lines
A fork in many roads leads to the erotic red light
And many pass through this place within places
Lovers scientists entrepreneurs athletes and sloths
Bums mechanics servants politicians mothers fathers
Deviants artists cats dogs flowers bees atoms and trees
Not everyone but not just good or bad sinners or saints
Many are drawn to union communion passion and bliss
And so among the erotic hallucinations of real feel porn
Angels and demons yogic avatars slip into dream bodies
The fantasies formed in response to each individual
Through sympathetic communicative properties of nature
Phenomena and events resonant with personality threads
Warm bodies and sex appear from vacuum flux
Complete with histories and futures attuned to the soul
So that some couplings are autoerotic and some real
Some of the soul-on-soul action are crude astral affairs
Some soar into more refined realm of mind and spirit

And good and bad spirits pluck the self streams
The schizophrenic weave more or less individuated
From self-to-self from rope-to-cable to solid core
From frazzle and disintegrate to cloud and moons
The elements of the Person are related in many ways
Making their own music then harmonizing and jamming
Sometimes with other ghosts and then with emissaries
The many realms intersect the flesh feel in the soft red
And through the caress of the climax and force of the fuck
Can transport the soul instantly through a quantum leap
To Heaven or Hell or one of infinite births and lives
To a myriad of planets dimensions or types of reality
Down the road to a million more lives or free right now
The working girls of the Bardo Red-Light District come
In all shapes and sizes every species and order of being
Scintillating in this infinite space of passionate pullulation
Where everyone can be a sex star and feed life or go nova

Arnold Böcklin: Pan Whistling at a Blackbird