The pettiness of the human state, are you sure you’re there? Where do we go in morning? Great big memories draw back. We wear Heaven in our sleeve. Do you feel it there, in that nameless thing behind holidays that makes the jack-o-lantern smile, the yuletide behind Christmas tree, a sudden spell of evening, and you’re all on the front porch under an autumnal moon?
How old is the starry night? And I stick out like a sore thumb— the nostalgia for greater eves than these. We climbed Heaven once and carry those memories with us now. Just look into a fire your kinfolk all around or those with whom you belong, and it’s not primitive man you remember. It’s something beyond Earth. The cracklings announce it. The sparks send it forth. The warmth bids you glad tidings of great joy.
The tears sting in the eyes. You’re on a sleigh bell all wrapped up in warm clothes, captured by Christmas carol somewhere way back in childhood to a time that never was you could’ve sworn was there.
You drop the bucket now. You don’t know where to begin to find this sudden community that has everybody wrapped in childhood, and no one’s lone nor mean. It’s perfect feelings among everybody and bodies that harm no one, and you belong, and this registers on the skies, is in everybody’s thoughts’ glow the round of applause we have for each other.
Can you count this on earth? It’s the meaning of community we all long to but can never find. We remember each other you know foldin’ space in our time between lives. It’s not a page curl. It’s the substantiality of 12 o’clock noon, and it’s where we find ourselves after a fruitful journey of afterlife to our sojourn in Heaven. It lasts for a thousand years in the stamp it puts on our lives we tarry after now.
Beethoven, I think his music is a struggle to bring us back, a clash of forces to carry hints of Heaven on their wings. I cannot count this to you so that you feel it as I do a substantiality out of thin air.
Oh as a soul nears birth all along alarm nobody can recount the soul anymore. Heaven loses the light of day, and we have to deal with memory now that blocks Heaven with the world’s forms but has us feeling after them for the signs they missed, the perfect form of things beyond anything Earth can bear. Look homeward angel indeed. Look at Heaven now.
In the calm of the freedom that knows no bounds and is forever free from danger vision Heaven. It’s done already. Avid of the real’s single shock, * you know Heaven. Nobody’s words can prepare you for this sight. It’s perfection made whole. Well might our star maker die there. The path is gone. It can’t be summed up in words, but we lean towards it now on hidden eves.
Heaven the rescuer, the stillness of form you inhabit, marvel at, cleans wounds. There’s a mountaintop, a change of consciousness to meet Heaven, enlightenment’s starward stair, enlightenment’s being, what you cannot touch now lost in the vision of the world, but it’s coming upon you my friend in a sudden moment star-baked.
Whole lifetimes move towards it. Whole lifetimes put you there. It’s right around the corner for some of us, this side of death. Imagine the steep then after dying to the body and all those fields you know, all those many crosses you had to bear. You put on enlightenment after death for Heaven’s gates.
See that journey now. Death does not have to be the stair, but august and few can win enlightenment now. It’s the inevitability of its certain coming, the crown of lifetimes here in the flesh, that put you to it, that helps you look beyond the world and go for it.
You hear that speaker now. I know it’s there. I’m slowin’ down my life for it, stilling the instruments, but I can dance and shout and sing at the exuberance of life, when sudden moments come upon me. This is not a static state, and I can work as well as sing, puttin’ everything behind me and goin’ for enlightenment’s wings.
Wake up. The path is in front of you. Come along darlin’. The path awaits. You hear me now standin’ in the door. What’s the world left to take from me? I’ve lost society. I’m an outsider on the roads of time. You think that has defeated me? I have nothin’ to lose. I still my mind now and reach beyond the world. You comin’?
Fire responds to it call, and we change names. I cannot call this name. In the eves of the inner fire the inner revolution will begin, and we will all cleave to the inner fire changing the nature of man. It’s just a shot away. [sing above line, heard sung, “Gimme Shelter” by the Rolling Stones]
Heaven’s fire on the road to Damascus and under the Bodhi Tree will surround us all. This is the new Earth.
You seen it there? My God there are human fields of emergency outside: Avasis, throw out all the angels. Pink cloud the guy wrote in his underwear. He did not rise till 10 o’clock eh? How old you? A star’s worth. We have to pull those pictures first thing in the morning, and the Man says his worth.
Tell us your name oh Heaven on earth. A-Long-Ways-Off. Look at me. This is the millennia. Prepare yourself man. You will lose everything to begin, and uh, it’s not the end of the world.
I will throw this out with balloons. The new Earth will come with great upheaval. Bright ideas will cleave the mind of men and see us through. I’m inoculating you now with the memories, with the good days, with the strength to hold on, with enlightenment’s golden wings, and the millennia will bring more surprises, and it will turn you inside out, inside in.
This is the law of things. Death to the old transformation brings. Energetically good idea go for the quiet of enlightenment. Start tonight. In the darkness bring it— a model for the new millennia, say it right there. With this strength we’ll look I in the face and change his name. Wow, a thousand years, and we made it.
I’m a seed bearer planting our survival. I’m an idiot, but I’m your idiot, and I remember you. Don’t you remember me my golden playmate on Heaven’s wings?
*a partial quote from a line in the epic poem Savitri by Sri Aurobindo
We leave the Earth better than it was before. Exploded on the scene oh my God I’m growin’ fast. Get that riff from piano girl.
The tingles of world sensation now so much bigger than the moon. I spilled my malt and could not put on socks and shoes. My genitals have grown too big, but I’m not supposed to reach for them in public.
Is that the Earth I’m falling into or the sky? I don’t agree with anything. My parents are not my TV, and my little brother’s a rat in the room.
He still likes cartoons. I play with them every day, but they’re too black and white for me. Does the world suck or what? Can I just be with my homies dog?
I could change sexes here and reach for kittens, but wherever we’re at I have to be private now. The feelings of childhood adore me, but if feelings could slay a dragon, I’m afraid that dragon would be me.
What is this drift within my head that paints the world black in my drawing room? I thought it was supposed to be fun, growin’ bigger than towhead. My genitals are huge, and you’re so embarrassed I have them pillars of society.
And I just want things back to normal, when I could be sweetly naked, and it was innocence you saw, not goon. I speak in code now.
Okay who turned the world off? You lied to me you know. I thought I was a big toy, and everybody showed me I was important. Now the change in my voice changes your tone with me dang blasted society. I am worth only what I can produce.
You never met me before. I’ve just suddenly appeared on this Earth. God just circumcised my childhood, and low and behold I am whether I want to be or not. It’s all happened so fast no one wants me around.
Where are the bullet holes, so I know I’m not crazy? He must have shot me in my sleep. God you brown paper bag, I was a happy child.
You offer me no man’s land my daily feast. I’m not wanted anywhere. The whole world’s gone fucking crazy, but now if I fail in school, no world will work for me?
Do you even know what’s important? I just don’t wanna feel alone, and I need protection from the void, what just showed up as a gaping hole. It robs my hours with the need to fill it.
It’s just raw existence you know, brand spanking new to me. Cheap’s pretty good, just watchin’ reels on that Generation Z, doomscrollin’ to all get out or hangin’ out with nostalgia.
I’m so excited there’s a big cover-up. Tag in to find it. Now it’s growing towards the ceiling, and I can’t seem to make it stop.
I like to eat ice cream too. Some things never change. No calls for alarm. I’m big and 14, “A Thousand Miles.”
The emotional cost of suffering, that’s just the same age as my three-year-old son. Where do we light these lamps? You can’t get at this with your green card. Understanding dawns slowly, or it doesn’t dawn at all.
Blow it out of proportion, everything you see in a day. We are present moment bound. The rocks and the rivers and the trees and the forest, they spend time with you there. You can’t seem to sort it out. The past is a distant mirror, the future a scary glow, and the eternal now escapes your grasp.
Did that just happen, my childhood all in tatters? I’ve learned to wear the good moments my social persona. Oh you bleeding heart liberal, shut up. I make even the liberals mad.
The child is what’s wrong with humanity, your child you wear on your sleeve. It’s all in a day’s work, make that child behave and wear diapers. Keep them out of our hair. Oh fuck it’s duty time, and even if we pay close attention, we rob them of their feelings.
Don’t feel that feel this. I want you to. It’s a holocaust of toddler feelings keeping them clean and pampered. The Earth Mother approves no, no, that’s free, your self-exploratory muscle in the mud pullin’ your own flowers, you naked little thing.
It’s not all about socialization or managin’ their time. Do you want their attention? I was gonna put a bridge on, a warm, comfortable love free from the world all available to you now. Let’s get you cleaned up and eat.
The origin of sufferin’ in the breakdown of the bicameral mind, / GooGoo and Gaga speak out. It’s psychedelic in here you know. We’re all over the place, and those body feelin’s are meshed with the world, and even the refrigerator has eyes. Watch me bump my head and punish what I hit. I fell down and the world made me, sneaky fellow.
Alright fine, spank them, and masters of the universe has just defeated their life. You don’t know the cost of touch here. You’re not trippin’. Fine, fine, we’ll put them in Montessori. I don’t think you know the cost of raising a child. Am I escapin’ reality?
Square one we need a new society. It can’t be based on money it has to be based on children, and the thought is God. We are raising God. Now put God’s hands upon the Earth. Low and behold we have a new Earth.
My dog the bounding surf, Luna lovely tail in tow, she died you know. Now I crave God, who’s invisible to all get out, who’s behind everything but not here, who I can sense, smell and touch but not put my finger on.
Let me explain this rhapsody. The mountains bear Earth you see. From a long ways off wonder at their tops sublime, wonder at their feet. Now that’s God standing there the everything you see, touchable, feelable, palatable, real, but you can’t get to ‘im, can yah?
He’s a mystery to you. He can’t climb your dog and fill the presence in the room, be her bounding joy your heart eats and eats because she’s there the love of her master.
It’s just a little spot on the world that gives the world pedestals. It’s so far from God, so impossibly short. What do I cave-in to? What do I find, the presence of God in love when he is all around me that bounding joy, the leaves in the grass, the wind in the trees, the current in the river and the river walk in me?
Oh God you are not jealous or lone. You do not want to eat me a pumpkin pie. You are not selfish and mean. You are the earth and sky, a mountain spirituality I can live in the switch from spot to all.
The absence of my dog assails me now and all the spots I’ve lost, Lisa bless her heart. Come God come, step into my reality only you. God I await your commend, your behest, and let’s rumble the earth and sky without you until resistance is gone, until no longer I remains but you. That’s all I ask of thee, go to heaven here weather on earth.
video by Douglas, made a month ago. I have not watched it and cannot
Oh Delaware, I am bandaged with poetry. I do not set sail. I cross this with my feet, crouch and look for the corpse of my dog, hallowed in heaven without me.
Whose banner do I raise? Terrible without her, but that is not all I’ve lost. I’ve lost the hope of man. Oh outcast come find me.
No amount of woods will separate me from you seeking law. I have written poetry in troubled times, and the oppressor is on the snake,
but that’s not all I’m worth. My social stigma rides me now, bigger than all humanity. The pathology of man when he is healed is not a glorious sacrament. It blithes.
What is heaven’s hope? I make it to the other side. I cross this bridge in time. Do you hear the doubt in my voice? Doubt rides the keel, and I’ve drawn a ship for my feet made of pebbles.
Sinking sands my rivers lie. I cry in my bedclothes. Dreams fling me to challenge and test, and I see my loved ones pass before my eyes. So where do I take my day?
I stand up goddammit and make this crossing, failure ever looking at me. Etched deep in the lines of reality I have lifted up my voice. It’s not my name I want you to know. I want you to grab reality by the balls and love man, every last one of us,
and for this I cross your heart in the inner spaces of our kind. Bury me please the fountain of your love.
Selfie a few days before my 65th birthday, which is today
What is a hands-on prayer? Full of spiritual philosophy, do this, don’t do that, I won’t bring you to lunch. I won’t even put my arse on the toilet.
Oh you offended seekers read on. Can I hold God in my hands the stadium of this moment, in the guttural process be? I don’t know where we begin.
I can’t find my soul the laughable, lovable life I’m having. All love is taken from me by death and weary, and I can’t find joy on the sun. I can’t even find life.
I have split my mind with silence ineffable, sat for a moment in that nameless place beyond Earth’s ego.
I have even climbed the heavens in a seconds’ ride to the space beyond stars and sat in my true self.
I am not here to complain of God and soul. You would not believe me anyway. I want to meet God with life can I? Not in a station up there, but down here in living flesh that does not appear an illusion.
I want to mate time with life, and it doesn’t hurt or get boring. Fill me with woods now I’m clean. I’m on your dresser drawer vying for true spirituality, not plaudits, not wise sayings, not moral admonishments.
I wanna set myself on fire with the living God and be down to earth and warm, not disdaining life, not rejecting it. I want heaven on earth. Do you?
My voice recording realized ages ago a tale had to be told. Pardon me.
How many have drowned and seen God? It’s not in your litmus paper, fireballs from heaven. I’m just this silly nigger among you. I’m not allowed to cook at your ashram or say grace at a potluck dinner.
What do I do with community? Everybody’s competin’ for the same pair of eyes. It’s not pronounced yet, but these are God’s love eyes. How many hypocrites wear ‘em? I just wanted the field to say.
I can’t get over myself. I feel the claustrophobia of Don. I feel the pain of the world. You market too. I know it.
I’m stuck in this little person having bigger thoughts than I am. I have seen beyond the veil, but I walk the creek and cry for my dog, where she put her paws.
I crawl through the fucking hours just like you, listening for a laugh. I’m not a kingpin. The joke’s on me. I hug the hours what is this shit worth? But I want comfort from them you know.
I caught God in a torrent of this space is mine. I plant my feet and sigh God, wonderful to have this world guarding moment.
This just eats my lunch, the walls of the present moment that won’t let me see the eternal now. I’m stuck in flesh. I cannot climb out of this shell. I cannot get beyond myself.
You laugh at me and point fingers, or feel the compassion the sage feels seeing truant man, but I hold commerce with the universe, and I am crowded with deity on the tip of my pen.
They holler at me in the world and grab my hand, and I know the stench of devils and feel their blind assaults.
I hold my head up high in the pit of night and do sadhana. I call God down into my house and know the wretched I have been, and it’s with bowed head and extended prayer I cry to the heavens God. Come bake with me will you God on earth.
Such limited character changes development. I’m not a rosy fire-kingdom. My sadhana is my pedestal I balance the present moment on to keep in those thin parameters the divine name only mystery speaks, a firm and fast bewilderment at the thoughts of God taking shape in the world in front of me.
All else assails there. All else comes from there, or I am robbed there by my own insufficiencies. Why do I play in the yard? I ask zero that question and grab myself by the balls and move on.
I’m in line with the Earth, and I don’t throw the Earth away to meet God. The Earth is myself, and we are all climbing out of the Void.
I hold identity with the Earth, come rain or shine, and that’s how we form Earth, together, encompassing the world to find God, reaching out of the universe to bring God here, hands-on God, the eyes that we look out of and the hands that we use.
Needs spiritual experience wants the dragon response back to his house. Who’s pic do you follow? Hands on fate now. It’s time to get past lawsuits.
You just comb what was expected of you. I challenge the world and then pick my nose. My overdo’s, my out of dates. [vision with the line of Sri Aurobindo seated looking at me in one of the last photos of him taken]
photo by Henri Cartier-Bresson, 1950, courtesy of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram
He’s got a principle pair. He’s bigger than skylight. He’s my guru, has a leading voice in my poetry, is the principle behind my music, is who I look to for divine change.
He’s open-minded and warm, and I been with ‘im a long time. I do inner contact sadhana, right before your eyes.
I don’t sit and guess upon the world. I get my hand held, but I’m a rebellious student. I question and accuse, lift mine eyes to the heavens and tell the Gods off.
I give him a hard time. I hold him to his task, am livid and rude sometimes, but I love him dearly and follow him on nails.
You don’t know what’s been asked of me, the role I have to carry. There is no forgiveness among men, nor mercy for being left out in the cold.
I am principle love. Not a person has it really. I put you to the test. You only care the pool of men. The love of God you distain, yet I go on, wearing the vermillion caste mark, the scarlet letter.
You would be jealous if you knew the score. You certainly would never believe it. What I lose from men I get with God, companionship, love, and hope, to a degree you don’t know possible.
Now I’m in your neck of the woods, a long time ago repented of my sins. Big fucking deal— you’d rub my nose in it anyway. You’re incapable of being ought than you are. You have not the oneness inside.
You do not love God you love your morality, and you are good to the good, bad to the bad, forever more amen. You want punishment and castigation. You don’t know the law of healing. You can’t stand it.
I have healing ways. I’m a doctor of behavior and attitude, of the soul heals. I will die with my knowledge unused. You don’t know the value of such things. You spit on it.
Doctor of the soul, where the soul leads the way, is the therapist and changer of man, that is what I bring among you. It doesn’t come easy. You have to have a need naught else but healing. It will take years.
You guys do me a favor. Come through my poems. It’s all in there, but most have been taken offline. When I die open them up and read them, and then put my name in the list of life. Include me again in your society. I did the work you wanted me to do.
You would be pleased I suffered. Oh, I suffered, threw myself up against your heart so many times, cried out to God in pain. I’m showin’ where we’re stuck in the ways of man. No one sees it.
There are more of us than I can bear, hated outcasts, and I am the heart of humanity shoulderin’ the world.
This is the place you need to work, right here, to change the nature of man. Right here today I give you the example of sacrifice. Fire away, take away my world from me, again. I’m showin’ you what love looks like when it’s in your hands, and know I love you.
Marriage of soul and Earth, I thought it was attracted to something beautiful. It’s the most guttural, physical location there is. We’d need to make plans. Where are you going? My butt’s yours man. All for one and one for soul.
I could get worse and I could get chicory, but we do business with the Earth you know, and we all share this intimacy. You got God there watchin’— oh my honey child, it’s all my plan.
I feel coverage beating on the roof of the world. I’m not smiling. This is so crash and burn. I don’t know how to reconcile this with God, the holes in the program. It’s bigger than me, but God is here my friend, like this is the Void, and he can’t get at it in his shoes.
I’m not worried about that. I want to mate my life with God in everything I do. How does this play out in the world? We come upon a change of consciousness, not just worship God.
We take God’s coverage and go there, until we look out the eyes of God. I have, and I’m tellin’ yah it’s greater than enlightenment. Mountains are movin’ me there now, that way station of enlightenment.
You would laugh and tell jokes— who does he think he is? Can I just be plain water? I’ve reached bare earth. I’m not haughty in my mind. I see myself and whistle Dixie, the idiom dear not the racism.
Nothin’ I do is great or small, and I can hold my dick in my hand and not play with it, but that’s not all I’m after. I want to look at you and not be offended by I’m such a shit to you. I don’t want to hurt by it no more, feel the pain of this earthen outcast. You are mean you know.
Terrible my time with you I do not speak right, and you are so hung up on speech, get offended at the guttural word. I’m loud and clear it takes willingness to change.
Get off your high horse man and meet us at the river, where even naked we’re not ashamed of ourselves, and we do not harm one another, but where the wild things are, myself and all these people, who’ve torn you a new asshole interpreting God anew. The river my friend, will you join me?
A cyclic poem, I pull myself up on the crap all the time, and here I am writin’ down wood. I’m bustin’ your balls. I should just go swimmin’ with you in everybody’s freeway.
Can we reach each other at guttural need, or are we alone inside that’s it? We play ballgames here. It’s not divided up in sexes. It’s not even wrong.
The New Jerusalem is galvanized on we lift up you and me. It doesn’t falter it doesn’t shame. We heal through change of consciousness, and we love one another.
Are you ready to buy this thing? This cycle I un-stigmatize God, the lover of all of us, the inside and outside of every situation. I hated it there until I realized what it took to change.
I smell soup. All these cut up ingredients, they’re in the zero God, right there to form the ingredients of the long-awaited paradise on earth.
Fool my ass, I’m joinin’ reality with heaven right now. You got them balls? They’re skyrockets, my love made real.
Fine, I’ll wait. You’re gonna be up in my room either here or in heaven on earth: ah, ah, a neighborhood this got foreseen; this was available for everyone; are you risking your life?
Blockbuster down and not one single person to help. Oh vagina. Now let’s grab by the bones and grow taller than mankind. Okay brotherhood?
You just get offended at plowshares. I’m followin’ my inspiration right. This is not sex do the poem. Okay Goldilocks? Alright man, I’m not dangerous help. Without a muffler I brighten the thoughts of God. If you haven’t noticed he’s a character. Great Scott! they kicked 'im out of town.
Look at God. Some of us are too busy to look up. I wanted to say that God is silent,too invisible for us, too round about the chain. I don’t know how to reconcile God with the need at this moment, and would if I need community, a flesh and blood moment? Do the mountains care?
How do I find God in the hours the substantiality of a reality in front of me I can hold, touch, and feel? Give up my attachments and longings so I can meet naked God, where does this happen on earth? I can’t find him in the rowboat I’m in.
I hear a voice explaining to me things. Visions give me knowledge. I have the substantiality of this playing card. It keeps me company more than men. Sometimes I glimpse God through the rafters. I capture for him my eyes seeing things. Doubt has been removed he is there. I’m not playin’ silly putty, but where does this cross the line into flesh? Where does this reality bear down on me God is there the world is not, the face of the world wears God?
Where do I find this? It’s not make believe. It’s the reality I seek. My wife has told me of enlightenment where God becomes real in the world, but when I was there all I saw was emptiness and an illusionary world, just like the Buddha said. I was flabbergasted entering ego again. I could not deal with the illusion. God was no reality there.
How do I reconcile this with time? Have I arrived at God now, so that enlightenment would bring me God? Knowledge speaking inside me says yes, but let’s put enlightenment as a criteria to meet God, and we’ve put impossibility into our mule, the rarest thing on earth. A person who’s been there can say that. This is beyond the world. Three times I’ve stepped past the threshold. I didn’t comfortable. What’s going on?
Maybe this put God on my table, and now I’m waiting on the full picture. I can’t get past this moment of being uncomfortable with all these feelin’s of being terribled by life, the pain of this moment, the vulnerability, in every face I see. The human condition assails me.
I am grasping world pain, and I do not like it there. So enlightenment is so far away, God the distant grandstand. I don’t care if you believe me or not, I have a gift: the world, and there it is your identity. It cannot be thrown away, but are bigger steps God?
Hey world, my very self, we’re there. If you stop hittin’ me maybe I can see it. This chapter about anybody home? Take off your shoes. Put ‘em in the corner. Can’t see why you won’t look at me. Well I’m putting back it’s not so bad right now. Conversion clinic, conversion 13, you doin’ a lot of things that hurt, and I am wonderin’ what’s next. There’s more wallop me upside the head?
There’s a car dealer. To thee I was a flyin’. Now that I came back from, I strongly suspect you’re arms God. Who knows complainin’, my goodness, might rob me of a strong sword. Now how do I greet the day pain in my tennis shoes? Greet the world with a poem. Can you believe that God?
Have to do my flip-flops. I’m gonna take ‘em off. So much easier than tied shoes goin’ indoors to the common room. Do you understand that ditty? Buddy, when you had to take your shoes off in community, I’m one step ahead of you. Mount Everest just came by.
I saw the guy did you? We’ve been to the marketplace. We’ve been to the moon. Where will we go next? In your living room my sweet, wonderful world, in your driving car.
Sophisticated, you have to let it go. He doesn’t believe in it. Voices wrote this poem and voices end it, good voice, so honey with this guy’s sweat and blood. It’s a poetry to help light the fire of inner revolution. Inner witness, I remember you. Hear that reader?
Juice on the table from hot water, we’re gonna sell it to even the children. Chris says I earned it everything, everything buddy there reading my poetry. He gives it all away, amazing volumes of poetry. Gonna look back on and see the price he paid For All Mankind. In this episode he just walked through the spacecraft. What sees you? Tell me your story.
Nithish found this hand-sized, laminated card with other numbered cards of the same type in an abandoned bus in the forest of the International Township of Auroville, India, just off Crown Road, photo by him
We are at the kingdom of the beginning of this beautiful brand new day. Let’s fix it you are not alone in the Transcendent.
I don’t know what to drink. I am soft and warm and mean and skinny. I plough through my room. I don’t know the time yet. I just spit on people. I stick my neck out for the razor type. I’m loud and boisterous, but I’m quiet near a river.
The lonely mountains see me pass a branded name. I’m stuck in mud. I shine all day. I run horses around stakes because I am one. I don’t like cowboys. They’re just stupid and mean, and I’ve seen too many dead ones.
I cry all damn day but laugh in front of people. I know my soul as a thin wraith inside that splits my hairs, and God above is a joke really I look at with my serious face. What is the meaning of life in a neigh? Tell the world that I’m here buen provecho.
Can you call humanity here? Is this the mass of men? Is this all of us bereft of spiritual change?
Grace Memorial Hospital liberation is in caballos, the monumental effort we put in to go past our limiting reason, to overcome our desires and principles, to be ourselves where soul meets Earth.
How do I do this? With a massive effort of my everyday life, changing the fronts of my being from the ground up. It’s opening the inner consciousness and be aware of our subliminal selves, and this extends into sleep, what we become conscious of the more we grab each night. It’s a change of character in man. It’s so much more than meditation and pranayama or digging toxins out with asanas.
It melts your ego over and over again over a good many number of years, but we do have history of the immediate lesson. How do I gauge this to you? It’s inner work completely see how you’re constructed. You become conscious of all. What gives it the spiritual ride? Understand God you understand and begin encountering him in the world from the depths of yourself.
This is concrete and real when you reach that stage it’s active, but these are not just thoughts of God. The substance of your consciousness change as you approach the Silence and take down the ego, and you begin to see the world through the spiritual consciousness. / You know it’s there. Even your feet surrender to this call. You reach into your subconscious and illuminate those rooms. You know the origin of your acts. You see how your nature became twisted or torn, and you see the repair being done by the soul witness within you.
You’ve grown bigger than ships. You know how it happens, world process, now that you see how your own self is made. These are beginning moorings to enlightenment’s doorstep, to the soul is the beginner of yourself. There is an on high, but enlightenment is a grave molecule to get there when you are flying by the seat of your soul.
Now where is that last caballo? Fred, Freddie! Where is the last man on Mars? A whole ship failed, and that planet died. Spiritualization did not move their keel. They refused the process evolve. What is the fate of the Earth? It is written in your destiny young woman, young man, and the great spiritualization has begun in the interest of the young to reach beyond society and see what’s new.
They don’t know spirituality yet, but oh my God planet they will. Good. Here’s a poem to knock you around in battle, to help light up the way. It’s so much more than diet and exercise. Can you see the divine in your face? Alright crawl there from the look of divinity in another person. Look I’ll meet you there at the library store venting this is all too much for our kind.
It’s a bubble test. It goes beyond Mars. See yah on the other side kid. Not a million miles away. Alright who done it? The Earth itself in great big leaps of mankind. Send us there before it’s tomorrow and it’s too late. I would imagine there’s plenty of blood on the floor, and the 5th is not even in it, but what about this morning when you saw your hope rise with the sun?
Dawn we see the package. I’m here reading this book. Suddenly I provide. I provide a dispenser, short bottleneck though it is. Is anyone flowerin’ yoga? If there was a law there’s no compliant. There’s just dueling banjos, but look toward thine angel now. Look homeward and up. So it’s got at least another tick in there, world matter till dawn.
On the spool of our hopes, on the livid of our dreams, we engage thee our spiritual morn. We just swept the car. I’m embarrassed. I have not stood there with my might yet, but my goodness horses here I come, and we’re on fire with everlivin’ need. You there, you understand?
Grab a nice haircut these rolling pins. They know how to handle the vital in certain situations, the ones where they meet the real world. Do you call them cough suppressants? It’s not about denial anything. They lift up the world. They love it into being. Did you know creation is starlight? They are on the forefront of that. They don’t waste time. Even sleep they use to their advantage. They are not kingpins. They have a guru master guides them every day where their inner being meets the world. It’s inner contact crisp and clean. It’s the inner consciousness guide, and they soul with the world.
How big are their thoughts? They carry Earth. This is every day. Civilization, well they feel inside, like they have evolved with man through every Kris Kringle, amazed we no longer live in caves and now live in modernity. They are the house of humankind. They’re on the whereabouts of man. They hold man tight, are all over its feeling joining God there. They intercede for man in the harshness of his journey. This is wide open fire, and they can identify with the rule and the snake, wanting what’s best for the peoples of the Earth, wanting freedom to be and to choose the greatness of each individual. They’re seeing what they need to do to change and be the staircase of man, the help in his endeavor to have compassion for all and bully no one.
This is their strange keeper, these heroes of the thought of man. They reach out for the growth of everybody, even those we despise and call evil. This is their special operation, but they can confront evil in the world and make no bones about it. They can see behind the scenes and reveal evil in its place. You will not find them safe here. They expose evil. Alright I’ll send it to yah. You are very selfish. I don’t know it’s been fusing. Leave this to yourself; get married and have kids; do not stand up for these divine fools; throw them in the clink with your fumbles with love.
I don’t know it has any power, the system we wear in shoes to put the name of the Lord on. This world here will eat you alive, but I’m game. I give God my all. I don’t throw him in the dirt. Come on, get goin’. I’ve heard some living out here? We go to school. Do you call your name Mrs. Kravitz? He put no. Well I am about your bed. I’m at the end of your feet. I test the ground of your heart. We’ll give it to yah, a safe haven. It goes through the community; it goes through the communication in honor to meet the jump rope.
I’ve really crafted it the way it is says the community ring. All the raccoons are pretty. Please stay in the car Luna. She just had a… There’s something over there. There’s something else. She knows that you’re protecting her. Luna in this exploratory relationship do business as members of the community. Can you come over here? You’re a mountain clan. Will you please deal our dog right? She never leaves our side. No fenced in in the backyard for her. No putting her on some chain. She is our honey child. Let her walk among you. She’s walkin’ to her next life human, and you can you grasp that with a dog? Their soul rang out you’ll move ahead letting me be by my masters. Do you see the relationship? Good.
I’m just leavin’ for my own house in the woods. Participate in your wholesome community. Alright I will not roar my own special status, but will a poet be admitted? And in his verse is a new society for a better world. Can I be a poet among you challenging the way we do things? This gets me in trouble, why I’m here. Douglas and I are searching goals here. We’re looking for a better land. That okay?
Days of unity, all this is a unity project, and we’re not just separate neighbors, nor alone isolated individuals in a world. We are everything, and everything is us. We are part of oneness’ clan. We cultivate that help. We live that example a sacrifice doin’ it, not a free-for-all, not a give everything away, a balanced, measured diet of oneness that knows our strengths and weaknesses and our own importance to the group. We are learning oneness as we go along, and great that field play.
Fifteen seconds ago forces of power moved us from our home, the power that destroys lives. I was writing poetry on the beach. It angered the local kingpins. They threw away the Constitution and got rid of me. We fled in haste. We are refugees. Can you put that into your hat and smoke it? Can you consider us with kid gloves? Thank you kindly. It is our effort to be kind too. We’re in the woods, the place we wanna be, the place we feel asked for us, if you can see correspondence in roadways. This is exciting for us. This is wonderful. This is joy in the Lord. Everpresent, he is our refuge. He is our one at hand.
We’re forgetting how huge he is with you too. It’s just isolated stupidities in the greatness of the Lord. We bask in him and turn our trucks towards him. Hallelujah you do too, and we are thankful for that. God is great. God is wonderful. God is our sudden being in the fullness of time, and all of you, yes we see your indwelling divinity. We see the One that you are. We see mystery behind your eyes that gathers all existence unto itself. Sometimes we have to pinch ourselves to find it, but we endeavor never to slap you forgetting it.
How does a poet ride evil then? How does a poet point out a needed change and not neglect his power, her force? With no hate, and the whole poem will tell you what it’s about. I’ve been here, to the Lord’s altar, and I heard what to say, and meditate on what I have written. It doesn’t go lightly my Lord. Have a good night. Have a beautiful day. Have a glorious day.
We go out. We go down. These weapons in our hands, this is why we last well with each other if our weapons are not hurting other people. Om to find One, I slept in Om. I did not just shoot somebody with no regard to their safety. I challenged them to put goodness on their pathways, to champion the thought of love, to broker peace between us.
Can you get that right? Not everybody will be pleased. Some will say you’re wrong. How do we change then, if it’s not put before us? What is nonviolence in speaking? Sometimes you have to will to change. Sometimes you have to go the distance to give someone a mirror to look at to honor the gateway to peace. Is that size up? It’s not puttin’ anyone down in mean speech. It’s not striking out in anger or blind reaction. It wants someone to see themselves and make change. With some it is impossible, but you follow the Spirit’s lead.
I’m here, I’m here to help you remember you have these tigers, and you know you never change. The impossible seem the odds. Then the Lord comes to you a gifted angel, holds your hand, looks into your eyes. The startling he is there will wake up the most slumbering sleeper, will knock your fucking socks off, will make you cry in submission to the mercy he offers you. I am that man; I am that woman, complete now in the genders I wear, hallelujah, and uh, birth control, no bad comes from my hands no more. Both dammit sacrifice for the good of all.
How else can you describe killing a part of yourself that was as natural to you as rain? Herein lies the crux of the matter: in every single part of ourselves, in every single fiber, speaking of the human being in all its parts, mountains can go wrong. You can be defeated by yourself, murdered by your own breezeway, killed by your cells. Pity we have for bodily and mental challenges. We have none for the heart when it goes awry. We have none for the hands that obey an errant heart. We punish those people, get rid of them, but we fail here.
Love thy neighbor no exceptions, and a cancer patient, someone with down syndrome, has the wheels of a disease that also someone lost in behaviors we abhor has in the house of their being. Freewill’s at stake, and it’s the issue here, but not confronted with this disease how can you hate and judge my friend? Animal ways breed animal man, and when you kill someone for doing wrong or slice them with punishment’s scalpel, you’ve carried out the wrong they’ve done. By the witness of the crowd and with its consent we bury humanity here. We tear asunder our house. Separate the people you need to separate if their behavior’s eminent, but treat them as lost children, not monsters and vile things.
Dr. George Washington Carver was a miracle among you. The Earth spoke to him softly of healing need, but he was a negro, when that word was in fashion, when Jim Crow ruled his land, when he was hated and looked down upon for being black. What a choice God chose for this man. He lived up to his day. He stood tall and strong. He heard the plants speak, the clay and flowers around him. He heard the inner voice, saw visions of these things, and we prized him for it. Some had prejudice to overcome, the strongest of their day. Pardon me ma’am. Pardon me sir. I am of this vehicle made. You are hearin’ my voices speak in a miracle of love.
I am the thought of this day to bring healing and remedy in our moral world, in the disease that afflicts the heart and hands. Are you prejudice and blind? It’s the same today as it was yesterday in how we perceive our fellow man. We hate him for being this thing on earth he didn’t choose. The Earth made him that way, the elements of man. Now I bring great healing upon the Earth for those with eyes that see. Inner voice led me to it and the vision of God. I walk with Mr. Creator like Dr. Carver, my walk just as deep in intensity. I differ in skin color and mode of religion, and I work with different elements. I am here for the morality of man. Is that too terrible today? Is that wrong? Is that okay?
They’re at Conservative National Forest, and it’s real lively here, in a time capsule. People go about their business here in their own brand of music. If Saint Francis of Assisi is their patron saint, they abhor animals in their court, and they’re holding court with the Timeless, not allowing him inside. This is grand design. It’s rigid here and far flung, but leeway is making a living. Let the flowers speak! I haven’t heard this yet, and they’re borrowing on marked time. Conscious group process is a recovery. It’s not on those lines yet, but I do think they see it. I just don’t know if they’ll let it in.
Our first name was Alex. Their stories fit in line, oh my beautiful sisters from Columbia. This went on. You said it so. Judith introduced us to community. Strong lady. I brought her back to her impersonal witness, and these are healing powers she has. AJ, who chops wood here and keeps the fire, phony especially he doesn’t bother to imitate. He’s a lot more younger than his 77 years. Can we count on him? Like you can the blue ocean, and you need fish, but time of course is our regard. Where have I gone with these people? See the example of love that they give right off the bat. The basis of love has changed I think in the wider community. Continue. I’ll get if for you with even the nobodies and me’s, with every single community member. Now there’s your introduction to love. They teeter there, and it happens to snow. A peaceful community lines these shores.
To warn other residents this is actually happening. Tell ‘em we’re ready pop the firecrackers. Old standard apply, I’m tryin’ to show you truth. You blew it. All the way here: I don’t know the lows can I shoot you Florida ask our tailgate, conservative Floridians. I’m a writer of verse. When we arrived in your community, we relied on chance to save us. You were too green for this, and I went right into a political meeting about our predicament opposing Trump— the very first day I arrived. What a sight for sore eyes. No, no, you can’t talk here; we have an agenda. And we’d just escaped Florida by the skin of our teeth. Well, if you wanna know, this one is about profound compassion. I didn’t live up to it until I then saw them in my home. You didn’t have the patience. You didn’t. You might wanna repose, settle down, music man. He understood.
I’m hopin’ we don’t have to go through indoctrination to sit at the ashram and volunteer. Leaking out of this box glad to be uncomfortable with somethin’ that calls itself the same name but has a different teacher. Can I even say I’m a disciple of Sri Aurobindo? Thirty years. I’m not a wasted duck. Now see my mantra within your mind shy Ram beyond be said and see I’m doin’ sadhana. Can I go to your church? Alright this is satsang. People been holdin’ their stories behind this. Losin’ all your glory, there you go, I think now we can sing.
So I’ve landed. So I’ve come here from a long ways. Do you know how to dance lower than you are? This is my piece of cake here. I just want them to know I love, and I’m a handy man around the house. Poetry’s a stick in the mud. It’s not their wax paper. It’s not their hole in the ground either. I think those things are old peoples’ photos, who grafted this community from a peace on earth vigil. Poetry is of the Spirit. Ya’ll have fun I was reluctant to say. Five thousand and something, I’ve reached a breakthrough there in poetry. I’m not the only one. Thanks and cough syrup, you’re hollerin’ in community. Just keep the garbage squared away and you’ll be fine, and probably don’t eat the squirrels. Poetry will buttonhole later. Who wants to eat? I guess I’ll be their good cook, but I don’t sprout my beans first. Oh well.
Okay the finals is not typicals of the the community here, world community. How do we change ourselves into an image of the indwelling Lord? How do we be our soul on the surface of ourselves? How do we become spiritually enlightened? Do we know the difference between being enlightened and being up on ourselves? What is the soul change, and where is our divinity? Is that the indwelling soul, or the secret, hidden God overhead the soul leads us to? Where do we find God as these hapless creatures on earth, the God of the whole that can bring us to our summit selves and cherish our lives with us as we are now and be that constant companion
that we look to always? Where is he our Lord, and what about a mother’s might, this sweetness and safety of her breasts, and we are little ones there, really, really comfortable with she is our whole world? Do you hear me Stephen? Do you hear me world?
I’m game are you? I’m sittin’ on the sofa right here in God. A change of nature I have made, not enlightened, and I am not yet my divinity, but the soul has power to express itself in verse alive in God. Even if it’s just to the woods my voices ring, I’ve found the Earth here, and I treasure it in my hands. Oh my dear brother, sweet sister, will you?
Into the summer pageantry, I go forth unfailed by noon, unhanded by time. My spirit’s lonely shell in diabetes lay, is fretting upon the Earth. I can’t seem to get lost here and forget the Infinite for whom my life’s pay. Golden bridals of dawn have lit the morn, and I suspect Earth shakes. I suspect I’m wrong. Too horrible creature for words I belch poems of fire.
I don’t know where my destiny lay. It’s deeper than me. I don’t know where I’m goin’, and I’m in a car upon the roads of time. I just sit there and wait, going forward, lifting up my voice to fate. I can’t catch my dreams. I don’t know where they’re taking me. I’m in an uncertain moment, labeled a monster of the wood by someone who gets away with it. My home I fled from. She’d put a gun to my head, nobody to help me but this old guitar on the lifebeats of time.
Will I wake up and understand the morrow? I don’t know what business there, and I can be crucified today. Oh foolish Sun, is so much wasted on thee? What am I doin’ it for? Why do I plot my life towards the Spirit’s call? It is within me and I do it that is all, and I’m frying in a frying pan, having melted my home for her, where she had all power. Where did God help?
I suddenly escaped, and great large forces prepared that, and people did help. Fine, fine, I’ll go. I’ll transcend time and climb out of time to see my Face once more. I wear him still, where I find him today a necessity, the greater being that I am, so close it’s a million miles away, a chariot on my moon. Stronger now I gather evidence.
You don’t know what I’m talkin’ about. I just want to lay me down to sleep and be oblivion to all that encompasses me. I’m watchin’ the freeways turn to some other destination I can’t read. I can’t even see. I was born to put the incarnate in verse. I cannot count the cost I’m done. I am the uttered word taken apart by kingpins and pushed into the dirt. You see the history of this? Jezebel come forth. I am writing on the Sun.
Are you sure you’re led halfway? What rallies against your speech now? What blinded impulse urge did you do? You are innocent of her charges. Where do we get this out of here? There is nowhere where we haven’t drawn our horses. We are an envelope on our soul opening it. When I walked my soul I was in daylight. Love is the threatened of my feelin’ knowledge, the smushed of the prepared in my shield. I feel my stomach in it, all this mess. I spit it out my room. I’m not a devil. I’m not even a bad man. I’m certainly not raping my dog or about to blow up and kill the neighborhood or kidnap Nithish from India. Why would the cops take her seriously and come to my door and harass me?
I don’t understand this murder or the threat of jail for weeks afterwards, or that they might take my dog. This is ungodly. I didn’t commit a crime. I didn’t even do anything wrong. Where do this lead us? On the wrong road. We are not Bridal Falls, Minnesota. We’re Hell’s bells in this situation room Florida. Why would I suffer here? What’s the door? Poetry I let out. I called Trump out of office. I talked about infant orgasm I received, not condoning it nor encouraging it, and I didn’t let Christianity get away with it, putting people in Hell for all eternity, even most voters in the world, because they didn’t vote for Christ, and what about ICE? I’ve poetry’d against them, their murderous ways, their racist endeavor.
Okay you found me. I’m a poet you need shut up. I’m a poet you need out of town. Did you do that? You let it happen. No one came to my aid, except who I’d reached through friendship, and they are great on that, but we’d shared life together, and we’ve been in the presence of each other’s eyes soft and warm. They came in and helped, put me on the road again and a place to go to, and they’re ground guiding me in. I discovered reef, what the fishes know. It provides for me.
Okay now where is your soft and warm, your care and concern? Where do you hold freedom as a value you prize? Is anybody listenin’? You know what happened to me? Can you understand this in America? Poetry got me in trouble with the law. Nothing illegal I wrote. Someone took my poetry to the police and alarmed them with the accusations I’ve mentioned, no evidence provided, no evidence needed. This woman had power. She wanted me removed and did it.
What do you say to that? Do that for lunch, crap all over somebody, show them to be a monster, try to remove them from society, because they’d written poetry that offended you. The patriotism of this lady would turn your head, her salute the flag, but isn’t this typical of Americans nationalistic to the core? They will take your freedom away from you if they don’t agree with it. They will burn the Constitution, if you’re protected by it, and they don’t want you to be.
I’m still tryin’ at your door. Who does a poet talk to anyway? Who does he appeal to, the lawyer who wants ten thousand dollars just to investigate this case, the civil liberties union, who won’t even answer your email, the legal aid society, who won’t give you a dime, if the matter here is crime? You’re a warped society. No protections for someone such as me, who has no special name among you, who is not rich and doesn’t need one, who’s not a member of a minority. I did not carry a gun to a protest. I did not hit a policeman with my car, even a little bit. I wrote poetry and got in trouble for it, and you only give those murdered people credit to get protection from law enforcement, from cops carrying guns who unfailingly use them to murder citizens. What about a living poet? What about the rule of law that should in theory protect him?
Do you know what’s happened here? You think it’s dictators. It’s your worst nightmare made real. It’s your apathy and compliance to the mass enslavement of people to the cruelty of the machine. Another man taken down, so what? Do you hear me people? So removable, the awakening of the crowd. Storm Heaven with the right to be not a Christian. I think you like this speaker. He’s American. You told me something. Put on the vote get power out of office that’s goin’ down these lanes, where even art and poetry is in danger, or even freedom of expression they take from you now.
Am I a flywheel? I am the culling house today of let’s make this real simple. We’re lookin’ for a depository where instances of fascism can be recorded and set up criteria for the legitimacy of that reporting, a national hotline, an email you can tell, a national depository. You’re online, and we can review these cases ourselves, see them grow. You know, we’d get somewhere. We’d see it happenin’. We’d know it’s there.
On Old Galveston Road, or just down the lane, I rose up into Wonder’s sphere. My seat of consciousness came out the top of my head several meters into a whole other plane of existence, the larger I that I am beyond this sphere of lives. It’s conscious and it’s free. Several seconds I sat there. Then went back down to myself driving the truck. So, I know it’s up there above everyone, a being so unimaginable, it is the divine self of you above, the divine self of everybody, individually sphered, is the innumerable self above. It is one being one in all. Yeah, I ride that the poetry I write.
I have breached the spheres, and I know this is all bullshit, this whole damn ride we have down here, but it’s not an illusion. Nor it’s a lark. We change it one combustion at a time, until the Glorious comes down here to work more often than it does now, the Being that surrounds the universe with its gaze. Of course I’ll be persecuted. Of course Jezebel will hunt me. Of course these things happen. I’m on it. I’m right here describing it to you, fillin’ the details in with know whodunit.
Left lane ends one mile. This breach in the reality of the universe, the reality I’ve described to you that is the sole heart of this one, will be addressed and repaired not long from now. Can you get that? I will not be persecuted much longer by these people. I have some poetry to write. First thing I need protection. No, I’m talkin’ in a space that can't do that? Careful, you might lose your own freedoms in your notebook.
Tryin’ to humanize the experience. I’m tryin’ to show it to yah. It started when I lost my job for poetry months ago. Before that in India I got kicked out for writing poetry, separated from my family. I think you think it’s okay there, but has America lost democracy too? What are we tryin’ here? The way of the world. Do you know what engines are about, the directions of population control, the implements in place for that? No, I’m not talking gruesome they kill you there in mass droves. The everyday means of livin’ are being turned into a cattle bin. It exceeds any report about it. Look at your phone. Look at all the control devices. Look at the rules and regulations to even open a bank account, to rent an apartment, to put vehicles in the street, to go to the doctor. How hard is it to get a job, and what do all the questions ask you? Are you friends with the machine?
Everyday liberties are being taken from us, and it is as though they never were. This is insane, the normal people operating in society rule checks the automaton, is a pipe in a machine that pipes to no thing that eases its desolation, is a calling card to the Man to check the citizen's every move. We are becoming unmanageable as isolated freedoms. We’re too expensive to just let loose. We must be bound and carded. We must toe the line. We must do all this and merely say it’s fine. Dissidence is becoming too dangerous to harbor. You report dissidence to the police. That’s what happened to me. That’s what’s goin’ on now.
We’ll see yah tomorrow mornin’ chicken noodles into a fight. Are you gonna fare me? I’m not gonna shut up. Leave us alone. Take down my playbill, you can see they’re experienced today. Everything’s written around that. I was there in a Haight-Ashbury’s shoes yoga year. And to think that you’d become on the ground of being, often on the road, a vehicle for God’s registry to put his voice, a lone weaver of the hour of God, and what do you do for a livin’? What cycle do you wanna take? The song of poetry, my voice lifted high to the sky, my words reverberating on earth matter.
Is this a dream? It is thy wild wood. It is thy heart’s desire to thee. It’s where we go from here. It’s the stadium we pass now. It’s yours for the beholdin’ kin. I can do that. I can land on your word the vehicle of my speech. I can land yours in mind and plant mine on your feet, so the heart shall know love crude as a peacock has glistened his moons today, has arrived with liquid voice to show you the Sun’s risin’ ways.
I am a purple heart, and I dance on you now the purple pageantry of love putting hate in its place out of bridal dawn. Fine, I’ll grip your heart today. Will you dance on me now love’s pageantry today, love’s high noon? I’m the alien to all your notions of time, to what you view as the larger picture, to any answer that you’ve come up with to our state, because I’ve seen what I know, experienced it firsthand, and no amount of convincing me otherwise will prove it to me that I didn’t. This is my livin’ faith. This is what I hold in my hand. This is the knowledge that parts the stars.
Fine, I’ll be your bended wood, the poet you won’t give that title to, the one who stands here and sings like I’m in a vacuum. I know I know who I am. Gonna pull over somewhere and realize I am you. This is the knowledge that welds together the stars. It’s all I really ask from you, the empathy of that name, the identity that helps. We’re in the zone now I reach all the way to the public. We will see if you care. We will see if you know the difference between love and hate.
That’s what you guys for, to engender freedom and our care for one another. Corona’s the last time I saw you just shoveled aside for. Herd you away from the freedom we need to breathe almost everything in society now. Somethin’ is not right in our day to day ritual. I have the field glasses to see that. I have the equipment. Wrong kind of recipe you put under freedom. I gotta tell you somethin'. You’re makin’ some big mistake puttin’ poetry in the corner.
Now you can play off of my poems that I give you. I’m givin’ you poetry, and you’ve completely forgotten we manage by it freedom and help to wipe out hate and to be a true language model. What is this world? I’m late. We’re supposed to manage this world a better friend to everyone. Why on earth would you not agree? Why on earth would you fail here? That’s for poetry to answer, and I have. That’s the start of you wiping it out our rise to the occasion you take a poet and shoot ‘im or take his freedom.
Run up to see what you’re sayin’— the freedom loving individual. You’ve done it before. Remember your Walt Whitman? I fly my seat upon the roads of time. He axed; he falls more gravity than I can bear. I just look you back here, all that’s gathered back there and start doberman. Readers pipe in. I mean you gotta go down something like this don’t look at it all— Mrs. Mean Date in the earlier walking. Another purple heart. The first two, they will blasphemy.
Somebody spittin’ you and you go right down there: just as I am I cross thresholds. I try to be myself all the time. I don’t exaggerate my being. I want you to see me as me, and we identify with each other from there, from that bake, a humanity seeing, a humanity start. We’ve got to stop this revolution that puts us all as automatons at the hands of society, that takes our lives away, and they become the machine, that puts us at odds with each other so we change our core being, and you are not my brother, my neighbor; you’re a stranger we can do away with when society says that. We want to stop the revolution of ourselves turning into a mass of product. Can you realize that far? Please, come with me.
