A Tribute to Robbie Robertson (1943-2023): Living off The Road A Music of Unbroken Chain …

Now there’s a flood in California and up/North is freezing cold/And this living off the road is getting pretty old…

Robbie Robertson (1943-2023)
Rest in Peace
Sweet Thing of Mine
The Last Waltz
Robbie With Bob Dylan
The Band
Robbie extreme left with Beat Poets, Ginsberg and Bob Dylan

9th August, 2023 Robbie Robertson left behind him, a legacy of music for others to continue with….Up on the Creeple Creek she sends me. Yes and she mends as well (if I spring a leak she mends me!). And she defends too (I don’t have to speak, she defends me…..”and this living off the road is getting pretty old”, and, in his own words,  “so, I guess I’ call up big mama, tell her I’ll be rolling in….”

He was fascinating, with his playing, songwriting and the endless conversations he had with Bob Dylan, The Bauls from Bengal, Ginsberg and all that who belonged to the haloed 60’s and 70’s circuit. The Last Waltz – the last time he played for The Band, a Martin Scorsese film, is for those who have tasted the beauty, the horror, the glory in life like ” there’s one thing in the whole wide world,  I sure do like to see, that’s how the little sweet thing of mine, dips her doughnut in my tea”.
Adieu RIP

DIVINE MATRIX AND PARA-BRAHMAN KALPA-SUTRA: MANIFOLD INVISIBLE HANDS OF MANIFESTATION FROM THE ORIGIN (VISHNU-CIRCLE EYE OF kla-kli-kle-kalki)

OM PARVAT/JONGLINGKONG PEAK: Photograph by Shivam Chaturvedi

OM PARVAT/JONGLINGKONG PEAK: Photograph by Shivam Chaturvedi

DIVINE MATRIX AND PARA-BRAHMAN KALPA-SUTRA: MANIFOLD INVISIBLE HANDS OF MANIFESTATION FROM THE ORIGIN (VISHNU-CIRCLE EYE OF kla-kli-kle-kalki)

“Ooh great creator of being
Grant us one more hour,
To perform our art
And perfect our lives.

We need great golden copulations,

When the true kings murders
Are allowed to roam free,
A thousand magicians arise in the land
Where are the feast we are promised?

One more thing

Thank you oh lord
For the white blind light
Thank you oh lord
For the white blind light

A city rises from the sea
I had a splitting headache
From which the future’s made”.

– Jim Morrison
HARI OM TAT SAT

After the first sensation in a field

where impulses are felt beyond the supra-causal realm of latent manifestation,

a desire was born as a light-intuitive vehicle that pulsates at regular intervals forming the magnified rhythm often called the dance of the unmanifest Sri-Shakti.

That when translated to the causal universe gave birth to dynamic embodiment

Then silence conjured the imperfection of forms creating a veil of maya that cloaked the original mystery of the creation

A touch was felt

Bob Dylan as Avalokiteswara (The Buddha Being) & Jim Morrison as Lord Vishnu: 1969 COUNTER-CULTURE EXPOSITION

Bob Dylan as Avalokiteswara (The Buddha Being) & Jim Morrison as Lord Vishnu: 1969 COUNTER-CULTURE EXPOSITION

A line occurred

A circle was drawn

At the dawn of vision, the all-pervading eye of the lotus born

Bathed in the purity of bliss, set up his own d-z-camera for observation

In his Light was light

In his Light was darkness

Intelligence communed with the conscious waking self

To create the divine matrix that foretold the creation

Now in the Hour of Horus, the frames of the original film is revisited

A voyage into the cinema of the past gave way to the future

A ray of light

Manifold hands

Allen Ginsberg Illustration

ALLEN GINSBERG: HADDA BE PLAYING ON THE JUKEBOX/1975: ILLUSTRATION BY CHRIS CAVILL @2012 Copyright Protected

Emanating Idea from the pure abode of bliss

It’s the time talking to eternity

The Doors have finally reopened

The minds must connect to perceive it

Hearts need to feel

The song of the lost prayer is the Song of the Lord

A conscious ripple in a wave-cloud field interacting with the Creatrix

The message send

The answer known

The Player in the Field is the Action of the Inaction in the Field within the Player

Shantih Shantih Shantih

-Joy

 

 

 

Chandrapat Revelations As The Lord Speaking To The Worlds: Unique MahaNam Lila From Sri-Angan Of Param-Bramha-Hari

Bharata bhumite haila manusya janma yara/ Janma sarthakara kari’ kara para-upakara. – Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu

image

Forest strong sandals Burnt geometry fingers Around a fire Reading history in blackened Books, charcoal sentence In moot splendour -Jim Morrison/wilderness

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Consciousness-Analogue Human birth is a pure revelation A pure source of things from where life emerges A complex chain of circumstances that leads to the event Occurence of cause on the effect’s causal ship is love Krsna is the quantum lila – an abode of bliss on the superstring Krsna is the dire ignorance from which knowledge must emerge It’s the home of the sky-birds of heavens floating in a tapestry of darkness A song has no meaning in itself it’s conjured by endless time The apparent space filled with fluteless echoes reverberate in emptiness Nothing is destined all are consumed and repeated again The sweet morning flower is the queen of dead leaves offering to the trikal of the twilight Insane remembrance of the pastoral elegance within a gyroscope Eagle sunwards into reptilian summer Electra moonshine and porcelain Watching obelisk patterns on the sea Night time tomb streets rejoining land Winds as camera shutters They are going to see the spectacle All in one as many as one in that unknown quest Bright stars crystal dotsbon the cubic foot Descend on earth far away from sigma-vrul-eternity. -Joy

The Absurd Superimposition of the Bose-Einstein Condensates: The Eternal Highway of The Doors

Jim Morrison and Ray Manzarek circa 1969

Jim Morrison and Ray Manzarek circa 1969

 

The Absurd Theatre

Quartz rhythm

Hypothetical geometric fibres

The circle with the thing in itself

Unknown to the territory

Walks on the edge gazing at the distant stars

Birds fly rocking the girdle

A movement of the hips enables  the plasma of the sun

Rested on the streams of the seven seas

A deserted highway is a door to eternity

It’s the burial ground of our collective memory

Here, cars don’t pull up and stop

Strangers walk not

Not even the tarantula

Spikes of frozen earth laps

The wind’s hairy roar

Screaming across the metal foliage of rusted lands

Rolling like a substance without a toil

In a unmistakable world of quiet absurdity

Not knowing, it crawls towards that significant nothing

That which is our moving frame of existence

Relative to simultaneous points

Many years later your old Word is very young

Innocent like the child of a polished stone

Absurd, forgotten or gone.

– Joy Roy Choudhury

Untitled Love in the Mystery of Life within Bounded-Unbounded Space of Time-Elongation: Olmo-Lung-Ring Message from Vrajo-Unin-Termas

Unborn Tazig, Olmo-Lung-Ring, Samij Datta, 2012

Untitled Love in the Mystery of Life within Bounded-Unbounded Space of Time-Elongation: Olmo-Lung-Ring Message from Vrajo-Unin-Termas

Consciousness-Analogue

When the mind meditates with the stone

The mountains utter their prayers to the moon and the stars

Reciprocation of love offered is a natural causal-effect of bio-geo kinesis

Yao yao ru ta te tu ro yam hua

Yia tu yia tu yang yeng ying

Simple are the ways of the magnetic-priest yet differential and prismatic

Three-fold time in the star-gate crystal; the sound is the anointed ring of the shamans

Wisdom articulates the practice of bon in every alter of the tree

Relative vision is higher than normal lens perception

Drawing on the inner-line of the lake Nam Tso, the sun has found a shelter beneath the ice

It was the night time melting into dawn

It was the last rite in the sacred field

If tomorrow came like a ghost sweeping the floors of yesterday’s fears

Today will be the day to practise the knocking on heaven’s door?

In the zabber of the Brahman I saw the lion looking into the man through the heart of a bird flying like a tiger

Do you see the blazing blade of grass over dew drops falling from the bowl of the cherubic fire?

Do you hear the sound, do you hear the sound?

After silence banged the head of the gods against a table rolling the dice with Judas?

What they have falsified to the winds carrying their feathers over dead tongues misconstruing across many rolling seas?

There is nothing at all- no myths no archetypes no tombs no statues

Not even the written word from the diadem of truth

It was in that that I saw that it ‘moved not yet it moved’ over nameless apostrophes of man’s struggle with destiny

What ‘that is not that is’ but it was a moment when light had no shadow in the death vision of a dream

Dreams connected spheres and shepherds brought thy music from the long valley of olmo-lung-ring

Supermind: walk the walkatishwara-cross-tri-qua-non (bliss restoration – narayana)

She ate the apple in the effigy of the bon to melt mankind into the ecstasy of hunger

That hunger was the desire to be greater than the one in the many one of ones in the creation

Man loved the gods greater than himself and thus paved the path for their evolution

It was the hour before the time in zime, a mighty finger pointed its direction towards that darkness revealing itself

Light, a blind source of freedom opened as if a lotus peeped from the stars into the green horses of the sea

9-parabrahman-9, supramental-qui-qui-shakti

Some came to win, some came to loose

Others were just riding their luck

What difference it makes to this creation?

Nothing I say is vain

For they bear the feather that is born from the dusk of original purity

To be more free with the self honour the life that is given to you

For one day you may know have crossed death towards immortality.

Shantih Shantih Shantih!

Peace on Earth!

 

– Joy Roy Choudhury