Chill Out Singh.
by Satwinder Singh.
Chill out Singh, Don't worry about a thing,
Because Waheguru's in control of EVERYTHING,
Just keep Guru's rehani and behani,
And stay in Great Guru's Charani.
Be happy and cheerful of who you are,
Accept Vaheguru's will, wherever you are,
Good or evil, happy or sad,
It's all Vaheguru's play, just be Glad.
Accept it with joy,
That's what our Guru's did,
They didn't cry, or be in sorrow,
They were high, with an amazing glow.
Chill out Singh, accept Vaheguru's will,
You have no power to ask or give,
Just remember; what you reap you sow,
And no one is high and no one is low.
The Guru isn't easy to find,
The true helper of all humankind,
Stay with your Guru, the giver of death,
He will protect and save you, till your last breath.
The Guru will help you here and beyond,
the Unseen realms and Wonderland,
The Guru and Sangat will help you across,
Don't lose faith and get lost.
Whatever came; will go,
Only Vaheguru's your true supporter, in any sorrow.
Just remember Vaheguru with every breath,
Because who know's when, it is the time of death.
MAYA
by Satwinder Singh.
An illusion, causes deep confusion,
Who am i, where am i,
sih after sih.
This body is maya, the car is maya,
the house is maya, the money is maya,
It's all gonna go, it's all a dream.
Think, think, money, money,
How can i make it,
Run around like a mad bunny.
Where can I put it, where will it stay,
Can i take it with me,
NO ! not a penny, whatever you say.
A big illusion, Causes deep confusion,
Let it go, think deep,
It's all a dream, not to keep.
There's only one treasure to keep,
The Nam, Vaheguru Vaheguru,
So let's remember Him, even in our sleep.
It's all a dream, nothing will stay,
Worldy greed, attachment and ego,
Leads you astray.
Mine!, Mine! , All the time,
This is the way of the fool,
Missing the Guru's Warning sign.
I want, I want,
more and more,
Not listening, to the Sant.
Proud of this, proud of that,
Don't care about the poor,
Turning into a Fat Cat.
Maya was made by Beutiful Vaheguru,
The only way to protect yourself,
Is to fall to the feet, of the Perfect Guru.
Now listen carefully,
This all doesn't mean,
You can't own houses or watch the telly.
Live like the Lotus flower,
In the society but above,
Then your life, will not turn sour.
I pray to Guru Ji,
Who gave me this life,
Protect me Creator of Maya,
I am yours, protect this weak imboceil,
May i not burn in this world on fire.
PROUD !
by Satwinder Singh.
I'm so clever,
I can do, that,
What's happening ?,
I'm going, MAD !.
Mad with I, Mad eith ME,
I.m better than him,
better than her,
Everyone should, call me Sir !
I've forgotten Vaheguru,
My Friend and Supporter,
Forgot my true Mum and Dad,
All this Ego, really makes me sad.
Oh my mind remember Vaheguru,
Oh please do Sewa,
Don't expect a favour,
But, Do it with love and endeavor.
Serve The Wonderful Guru,
Serve Humankind,
That's why Vaheguru,
Given you these hands, feet and mind.
The Guru is the greatest,
The Guru is the best,
Stop ! thinking of yourself,
And give your head a rest.
First I has to die,
To become the dust of everybody,
Because when there is no me,
Then The Truth we will see.
Let's not let pride be our guide,
The Guru's way is beatiful,
The Guru's way is true,
Humility is the way, to the Supreme True Guru.
The Gift From Vaheguru
by Satwinder Singh.
Kesh is part of the Khalsa Uniform,
It is not there to deform,
Oh man why do you shave your face,
To try to look like a woman, is a disgrace.
Oh Mr.Singh,
Your a, Lion King,
Don't cut your mane,
To be the same.
To follow pride & vanity,
Truly, leads to insanity,
Don't worry what people think,
Otherwise you will sink.
To be natural is really cool,
Don't cut and be a fool,
It's really hard at the beginning,
Take that step, and stop that trimming.
Oh, fathers, mothers to be old is no shame,
To colour your hair, gives you no fame,
Why do they cut again and again,
Have they gone insane ?
The Kesh gives us our identity,
We can be spotted even if there is plenty,
Be proud of what you are,
The Khalsa can be spotted from very far.
The Kesh is a gift from Vaheguru,
To keep it, is not new,
Have faith in Dhan Guru Gobind Singh Ji,
He will save & protect, you will see.
Indian Evil Propaganda
by Gupat Singh Khalsa.
You attacked our Holy land,
You came to destroy;
Heavy artillery and Tanks,
Did you deploy.
Our Heroes Bhai Satwant Singh,
Bhai Beant Singh & Bhai Kehar Singh,
Avenged by killing your leader,
Shot to death when they seen her.
The Khalsa will never forget,
Until it's aim isn't met,
The Khalsa will always sing the deeds,
Of the Great Khalsa Shaheeds.
You turned out be clever,
Using your wicked ways,
You used propaganda,
To cause the Guru Khalsa's, Slander.
You want to destroy the Khalsa,
You want to stop Sikhi,
You say we're Hindu's in your constitution,
In our community have you put pollution.
Fools don't be mistaken,
The Khalsa is a fighting nation,
You must be Barmy !
To mess with, Vaheguru's Army !.
You called us terrorists for protecting our faith,
If it wasn't for Our Guru your faith wouldn't of stayed,
Oh, fellow Sikhs listen carefully,
Don't be led blind, by this evil Indian propaganda Army.
Our Brothers are being tortured,
Our Sister & Mothers have been raped,
Our Fathers are killed,
Why do you hesitate ?
It might sound horrible,
But it's the truth,
Why are we living a lie,
Do we want, our conscious to die.
Awake, Awake ! to the truth,
We are Saint-Soldiers of the True Guru,
Do what you can to help the cause,
Look to Guru Ji for the source.
Don't sit down, and not fight,
Give it all your might,
For Good this body and brain we use,
Because the Khalsa is Vaheguru's !
The Khalsa will uproot this rotting evil tree,
And again taste Victory,
The Khalsa will never lose,
Because the Victory is Vaheguru's !
"Physical death I don't fear,
Death of conscience, is a sure Death."
Sant Jarnail Singh Ji Khalsa Bhindranwale
Guru Gobind Singh Jee.
by Prof Puran Singh Jee. Guru Glorious.
They ask me to say something about Guru Gobind
Singh;
they ask what is He to me?
I tremble when they ask me, what is He to me?
Unable to say anything in reply,
I burst forth into childlike cries of both joy and pain,
and I faint away,
knowing not what is He to me!
Only I say Guru Glorious! Guru Glorious and I am consoled,
I slumber in His Lap,
soothed by the lullabies of my own sound,
knowing not what is He to me!
Do not ask me to define Him,
Do not ask me to praise Him,
Do not ask me name Him,
Do not ask me to preach Him,
And ask me not to conceal Him,
One who has freed me,-
Me, the self-poisoned,
the down trodden slave in the fragrance of Himself.
Whatever He may be to anyone else,
To me, He is the Creator,
who has cast Himself in the shape of His Song.
And sitting nowhere,
He showers from his eyes a rain of stars in the sky!
Let the Great Ones name Him,
Let the scholars search Him
Let the learned discourse on Him,
Let the martyrs sing Him,
Let the lovers call Him,
Let the maidens garland Him,
and sing Him a welcome!
Let the saints worship Him,
let the devotees kiss the Hem of His Garment,
and anoint their foreheads with the dust under His feet,
Let the children gather round Him,
Whatever He may be to anyone else,
To me He is my sacred friend,
who comes unseen to me in my dark despair,
to wipe a silent tear with the edge of His Kingly Skirt.
And to say to me when I cannot listen even to Him,
choked with my own tears,-
"I am here by your side, the whole of myself when no one is
nigh,
I am for you, O sad sinner!
I am exclusively for you and no one else!!"
Let the women say to Him, "I love you,"
let the singer say to Him, "I sing for you,"
Let the dancer say to Him, "I dance for you,"
Let the yogi say to Him, "I lie wrapped up in thought of you,"
Let the pious tell Him, "we obey your law,"
Whatever He may be to anyone else and anybody else to Him,
What can I be?-
I, devoid of all virtue, merit, or light;
I devoid of the sacred vows of piety, silence or poverty;
I a sweeper of the street of the Pleasure of Sense;
I, an aimless chaser of quivering Illusions that fly the trembling
colors of the wings of the butterflies that flutter around the
Maya of life in full flowers:
What can I, I say to Him?-
I, the old joy-sipper with the everlasting burden of Illusion
on my back:
I only cast my head down in shame,
I stand abashed, away from all,
in the corner of my naked body with all its scars and stains;
But behold: He cometh even to me, as the sun goes down,
and the saints leave Him alone.
And as He cometh, I burst forth crying.
And He consoleth me saying: "
Have I been really too long away from thee?"
