D.H.Lawrence was not a yogi, but a bhogi,
The sadhu in the ashrama
With the ladki and the ganja
And the chillum,
Smoking in ganja
And talking of love secretly
With the disciple love,
The stolen girl.
In the temples, instead of seeing
With a pietistic view,
He looking at the murals,
Sculptures and figurines
In erotic love and passionate hugs
And sex positions,
Feeling the delight of love
And its attachment.
Vatsyayana's Kamsuttra, the sex manual
With the tips in sex
And the joys of delight,
The bliss unbounded,
Freud's interpretation of dreams
And Rajneesh's sambhoga to samadhi,
Sex to bliss
Enthralling him.
Lawrence is not a real sadhu,
But a fake and false guru,
A fraud Indian baba
With no control over sex,
Not a real guru,
But a ganja smoker,
A shisya lover,
A disciple lover.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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