Sitting with Luna on the porch of The Planetary Court, Koreshan State Park, Estero, Florida, photo by Douglas, Easter Sunday, 2026
I am a monitor on freedom, molten lava, right now. I ICE —at his age he should leave them alone— and trap them in their wheels. You know the function of poetry, to open the heart of mankind, to get bigger notions than guns, to put ideas on railroad cars and pass them through each checkpoint of the limiting reason, to make language say what it can say when it’s not the mattress in your room; it’s the hope, and field, and trust of more friends than these, language expressed to the zenith point of our field of dreams. It bakes there the ellipses on the page the ellipses can’t show: a poet has gone off the page and entered your life, touched your things as he does his own.
Girl get censorship out the window, so it don’t rob us of meaning now when we most need meaning to show. I’m that report card. Treat me wisely. Handle me with care. W-o-w I’m there infinity report, the whole starward page we reach beyond, and I am your long lost friend you found in childhood and never forgot. I’m there a poem for you to read, a poet on this marge. I turn it upside down, the apple sitting there we hung by. So hang there no more, and love will lead the way. That’s the caption of the universe in all its drift and bale, in all its lonely regard. Everybody it’s movin’. We gotta move, and this is just the start.
Wow, what a life. Don’t paint pictures of larger reason you pigeon shit— the sheriff county Lee department. I’m on mountaintops. I’m in the immediate see of my room. I want to get across time. I’m really right here on your basketball who will Trump shoot next? Can you get larger than stars and balance concentration camps? Can you protect a poet that looks at trashcans, showing you the infinity of the universe Florida in the way?
I’m about the larger than Earth view, infinity beyond the universe, as where we put our cars your poetry has gone over mountaintops, and it’s landed in the nature of a cop. Who draws understanding there?
Man I host a larger continent that ours. I certainly put it in my poetry, and I do that to get down to earth. I’m on the pier now, runnin’ lines of poetry to the undiscovered continent. Happy all the fishes are, startled at man’s intensity catch them in the eye, but they will reveal themselves in time the substance of things they show. First we get larger than Earth, go weapon on this now.
It’s not on Mars or anywhere in the world that you know. It’s not other planets. Is this the chalice? It’s unknown in humanity. It’s bigger than sin or any right or wrong. Do you see it?
How do I make this out to you? I can’t get in there in your mind and see it. It’s not a framework of your imagination. Nor will visualization do. I can’t talk about it and hint at what I’m talkin’ about. It’s like seeing reality after being in a cave; cave is your only experience; cave is not does not exist.
It’s mountaintops, and you won’t see it from there. It’s not a view. There are no points in our reality that can glue this together. It doesn’t exist, wow, that’s gettin’ somewhere towards how completely other this is. It’s over your head.
It’s a farmer’s market, and you’re listenin’ to the words. Too many drumbeats in them to pull this out of your pocket a grasped thing. I’m countin’ on reality to show you its further face, to get you out of your wood, to give you some luster of something you haven’t even imagined yet.
It’s bigger than stars, and the universe is too small for it. Impossibly it can be in the universe a station over our heads, and that’s how you experience it, but you are not grand up there. You are so huge grand is a piddly thing that might describe a sphere, a one-eyed seeing, a place where there is one pole of reality, one fixture that bakes time and infinity in it.
I don’t think you know what I’m talking about. Look at a computer screen. Imagine AI does this all the time, is open to multiple zeros, can simultaneously enter numerous computer pads and be a language model, or you might see multiple screens upon a wall showing these different locations. Even with infinite number of screens, or people at their computer consoles, you can’t get there from here.
There’s another way to see reality that imagination cannot visit, because its constraints are this one o’clock view. Now I’m on diamonds now. This is the greatest experience of my life, the very meaning of reality, in our neck of the woods, the thing that all the universe shows if you grab ahold of its handles and see its meaning, and see its destination, and see the platform it wore that sprung forth it into being.
This is larger than time, and you are not hindered by time in it. The conditions of the universe do not apply. You are in another ground of being that sees past every limit we have and is all-encompassing. You’re spaced out in there. You’re humongous, and you are not one field of show. Nor are you multiple things that you see at once. There’s another way of seeing I cannot describe.
And when I sat up there I knew that this was incommunicable to the little person I was driving the truck catapulted on high I was. Only one word describes the confined I down there— prison. I was myself above, in a larger than field view I cannot describe. I saw myself down there not in myself as I was driving, and nothing obstructed my view.
Direction my gaze still bore. It was an all-encompassing view I could pinpoint knowledge in. Do you get my broadcast? These were all my lives I knew I was the origin of, these lives cast out upon time. The return I was I was sure, an infathomable endgame that was me. After my many lives I would meet myself on high and be who I was, a return journey that encompasses life.
This stings in the eyes how could you have forgotten yourself? How could you have forgotten who you were? It’s unbelievable the forgetfulness the loss of our very person.
Now what do I do with this? Describe the many points of seeing, the perfect stillness of that air, the excitement I felt a child in excitement, letting the game pass down below me I was a spectator of? And I was its origin and the director of its gaze. I cherry open it.
Where is this hub? Is everything just happening at once? Where do we begin and end? Where are we at now? Where is the destination point? What’s going on with us in relation to up there?
I cannot claim authority on these matters. I was myself on high several seconds. It did not go higher than that. I was knowledge by identity, and that’s how I saw everything, one with everything I saw. I had my identity with it but not bound by it. I was free. It was great, it was fantastic, it was true. I had pierced the veil and gone home.
Now who do I tell this to? How do I process the experience? I’m just this wooden man, and I have things wrong with me. Do you hear me shouting mud? I use the vehicles of this world to describe this world, but my aim is transcendence. I am a wide open see in my departmental thinking. The things wrong with me I have cleansed, and I’m a harmless being now to other human beings.
That did it. I took what I had seen and plugged it into my life. I saw that I was an actor, an avatar, a front man, not me personally, all of us. This is the video game fount of this thing called life. We are all actors in it, or movie stars, or stage performers, if you want to use the known to describe the Unknown. This frees you. This is the truth that sets you free— transcendence.
Now I’m not gonna fuck everybody to give you some guttural word that has so many strings attached you think I’m bad for sayin’ it. You cannot deal with these things: someone crosses your morality; a person uses the word nigger. I have no choice but to test you to challenge your operations of seeing. It’s not who we are, and the unreality is killing us.
Jesus said this, Jesus said that, you can deal with, even though the flywheel was radical. You put it in church. You sing it in hymns. You preach this to people, but the reality escapes you of what we have that he said. You would crucify him with it if he walked among you today.
Tomorrow it sounds like you will be needing glasses to change the character of man. Blame it all on one man, blame it on several thousand people, the world is falling apart. It’s not working I told the Man. Two cops came to my door and wanted to know what I was writing. You know it happened on Good Friday. They had it in their hand. They were startled by it, because someone had complained. I would not let them into my house. Nor would I go outside. No laws had been broken they told me; I was not in trouble. Yet they came to my house anyway, and what for?
It wasn’t the tooth fairy. It was two persons who would kill me, if it came to that. They had all power, and I was on my doorstep maintaining my own balance. Why did they come, if I had not broken any laws in the writing of mine that they gave me? What’s goin’ on?
Will I see them again? Will I be dragged off to jail, because in Florida I can be kept for 33 days without charges being filed? Do you know what’s happenin’? We’ve reached a morality breach. It is so big and unwieldy there is no safety in it anymore. It’s not protection. It’s control people, control everybody, because morality has come out of the wood, what makes people look small in comparison. We can’t tolerate morality being questioned.
I’m in this field today. I question morality, not to fulfill my desires, not to be a braggart and kingpin, not to just waste your time, not give harm to anyone. I question morality to improve the lot of the human being, to wake us up on one another, to make us question ourselves, to put love there as the root of all equations, to bring a better society.
Those are noble aims. They are not base. Yet I am facing police harassment and a threat of jail. Is this a free country? No. In fact, police state is where it’s headin’, and you’re not even aware it’s goin’ on.
Have I read the last newspaper, the library of social media? I found cops at my door for poetry I’d written. Trump’s in office. What happened? Are they gone here, where we put Trump, what we allow Trump, the constraints in morality we are imposing on our population? You can hear Trump rant, say heartless things, about the men, women, and children his is killing in his war against Iran.
They didn’t do nothing wrong. Aggress against us they did not. They were just there a convenient target to take our mind off Trump’s sex with minors he Epstein’d. How many people will die for this? Do you even want one? Yet you won’t say a word, Trump supporters, of how immoral he’s being.
Our nation is crashing. Don’t you see it? We need to change the world of Trump. We need to be a good nation to other nations. Defend me for sayin’ that? No, I have not one defender. I am alone in my hour of need, and the police could shoot me or lock me in a hole, and the matter would be closed.
I have no friends or family who could help me. I stand here alone. One person on this Earth who lifts me up an adult who can do that— Douglas. Fine, beautiful, is that what you say? I can’t get over it, the hatred of the crowd, my fellow Americans not being fair, not being just, just wanting me harmed in however they can get that done.
Who sicced the cops on me? I bet Christians. Cowards. I can do nothing for them, but my poem’s here for them to read, and my poem always will be. I’ve reached a speech of Earth that figures in the world. It’s only a matter of time it does with the public and not only the cops and some special arrangements. People react to it like they’ve been caught on fire.
So far no help has come, no support group, no friends who I can count on, but I’m rilin’ the crowd with brotherly love, with radical sayings about the brotherhood of man, a social system based on love, even for the criminal, even for the poor, even for the nobody, even for myself, and you want me killed or out of town?
Stand up and be counted. Leave a comment here and show your face. You know what cowards are. Are you being brave? Call me stupid. Call me a fool a bad man, but I’m not a coward, am I?
So what am I doing? Conducting an open sacrifice of my best interests to communicate to you what I’ve seen, to show you what I’ve learned from that. Are you out there? Are you sure you’re in the right wood? Are you persecuting the wrong man? Do you have any guts? I’m hammer down on you wishy-washy men and women and on your meanness and lack of love, on your ignorance, on your lack of sacrifice.
There, you’ve got my message. I spelled it out in plain language poetry put. I’ve told you what I’m about. I’ve showed it to you, yourself. Where do we go from here? Let’s hope up. There’s always shoes you can put yourself in of another person’s. Walk three days in his moccasins the saying goes? Well, would you do that please? But anyway, I’m a sitting duck. That’s your right?
Fingership opening to the trails that made the world right here on my blog, right in these poems, and you wanna shoot me for it? Let’s see how it looks in the not so long from now, your persecution of me. Are you going to look like good men and women? Are you a good cop?
As in a chemical weapon, these cops are niggerin’ me. They put fear in the air. They try to intimidate me, make me afraid. It’s their tactic. They are probably Christians too. Are you seein’ a pattern here? Christianity is not a religion of love, as it expresses itself in political America. Anyway this cop has his eye on me, like I’m doin’ somethin’ wrong, but I’m only writing poetry.
They don’t know the gist of it, what it’s for or how it’s done. They think it’s intimidation they can use to stop it. Is poetry representation? It has that in it yes, even in its plainly spoken, but it’s aimin’ at somethin’, and that’s the strength to clear, get your point across a better world.
Poetry does that, but it allows any character to speak. Any opinion can be held upon the page, and the poet does not hold every opinion on the page and can express the opposite opinion of his own with the strength to say it as its bearer would. This allows for lots of play but also misinterpretation, with language at the center and ideas.
Do you know where that takes us? We arrive at art, the output of man at his best. Through familial decisions, the notions of a clan, art has been degraded today to hold no special status. Poetry’s just spittin’ in the wind. It has no directional paper. The cops can use it to put you in jail, and in Florida, they can do that with no charge for over a month. I don’t think we live in a free country, but you would call me unpatriotic.
A poem is worth something more than any other form of writing. It’s elevated speech. It’s priceless when it really gets good. We don’t honor poetry today, and reading it is like reading the newspaper. It’s literal fact and fiction. It’s not playing with ideas to sprout the Earth, as a cop sees it, or the people who called them on me for writing poetry.
I can’t tell you the significance of this as a barometer monitoring our freedom. When art and poetry gets the knife, calls the cops to your house, your nation’s in trouble. You’re at the red meter, and it only gets worse.
Did anybody today benefit from my poem? Are you open-eyed and see? No, it’s not that simple. Hearts closed are hearts closed, and a mind of no light has no light, only the rule-beats of the crowd, or some scriptural layaway plan. Hand over your right to be, that’s what that cop told me.
I did not chose my nature. It did. I have to deal with what comes. I can’t live by my impulses. I have an ordered house. I don’t harm anyone. I control myself day and night. Am I stuck in the rafters? I’m not having difficulty with this. I have put sex to sleep and thoughts of sex. I keep anger out of the world over and over. I’m not a jealous person. I’m not lazy either. I do not lie, cheat, or steal.
I’m sorry, the truth comes at a price, and if I’m hiding Jews in my basement, I don’t tell the Nazis they’re there. I use common sense as I employ morality. I do no rigid rules, except to keep from harming people, but I do keep my hands from harming the people around me. It’s this I have to give, because my nature would burn people otherwise.
I’m a flexible soul, and I don’t expect everybody to hold the same ideas in motion. I realize I’m dealing with the crowd when encountering individuals. A storm I encounter when I do that. Everybody just thinks they’re free. April 22nd I’m on a collision course with reality. I didn’t know that. What does that mean? Is it a prevision? It doesn’t sound like it helps me.
How can I get away from here? I can’t. I don’t have any pistols. I can’t afford to leave. What’s comin’ my way? What am I gonna collide with? I can’t tell yah. I’m a vulnerable man siting in his house writing poetry. Will they shoot my dog? Will Boogers get burned, Luna baby? Why should a citizen go through this? Is this the sin of poetry? What’s goin’ on?
I’m into this up to my neck, and it gets deeper. Will you help me? Oh course not— like, like, like, like, and if I’m lucky I’ll get four or more. There will be no more help. Southwest Florida’s ultraconservative, does not have love for your neighbor. Gimme that alcohol! So many drink here and lead nice ordered lives that no grills get in.
Do you know what’s goin’ on? So many of you are hitting rock-bottom in how you encounter the world love in it. They don’t know it’s not a social persona hug you wear, a smile broad as the sun but not real to the wearer. It’s not how you shake hands, how firmly or with device. It’s how you are with other people who you don’t have to be good to, who you can take that mask off with, and right buddy, I’m right fuckin’ there, a nobody with a stigma as wide as Texas?
When we first started you were good to me, at least here on the island. I wrote poems, and you dropped me like a hot potata, and that was that. What am I sellin’ in my poetry? Brotherly love I kid you not, love all people and every livin’ thing, and I explore that with myself too, but love’s the keynote of my speech. It’s where I bring my poems, asking you to love too. Love dropped me out of your room. Love is what you’re mad at about me today. I call you to love when it hurts.
I call on you love now, whatever you’re feelin’. Put a higher ideal on your play, have that higher ideal lookin’ at you through everything. Get mad sure, get frustrated, but always come back to love before you grenade somebody, before you try to get them shot, take down their life. You’re just bein’ petty and mean, lowlife.
Do you know Steven your name’s been called? I could call it every day, and you would not respond. That’s just hateful, Steven Step-Brother Abbott. What’s goin’ on? Are you there? Hey girl and everything’s not peaches and cream. Emily you just pretend to talk to me and want me on the end of a ten-foot pole— my niece everybody. Can you like, get some guidance from somewhere inside, and you guys higher ideal love? I didn’t do anything to you, either of you. You see the stigma, not the man.
How far will you go with that to improve your world? I think you’ll go backwards. If it’s poison from within, I can help you there. Just give me a ring. Alright family? You’re all that I have left. Do you understand that bit? I’m fighting for my life here. I can use some support you look up. I could use that, the understanding.
When I was a kid and playing football, we had one more game the Thompson Lions. I was third string, tailback of all things. Got chased with the ball more than I ran it. It was a fiasco I tried to play catch. I was in the adolescent showdowns, pimples all over my face and pigeon-toed feet. Do you see that levy today?
I just want yah to leave your phone number at when I can call. I can’t even sit at anybody’s table. I’m a bigger voice than that discovery teenager. I’m about the world now, and I keep the juice in my gun and don’t masturbate, and I give harm to no one. Will it make any difference Steven, Emily?
Alright I’ve pulled you up on the carpet. Mean, is that mean? I’m in dire straits here, and family is given to me as the model of who you can always rely on. That model’s bullshit, but almost every movie plays it and so many of our songs. Open it, let’s open it, we are family. [sing above line, song title, Sister Sledge] Total perception, there’s what happenin’ in this poetry seer. I see you’re not organized enough to see it. Calm down, I’m not mad at you. I just need some help, okay?
She didn’t have little kids at her house or any sore thumbs. He might represent ailing mankind. They’re gonna get that option too, the program I failed. Where’s history draw the line, option failed? I think the world’s bigger than that and conscious too. Wouldn’t you want to see that in my eyes? Talkin’ to you my family. Lip service, you know I don’t play that game.
Now hypocrisy, this is exactly David Koresh, the stupidity he treated kids with when he put them in bed with him. Are you going over that with me? Even if you had doubts you know that’s not true. There is a deeper interior you haven’t gotten to, a more profound base. From there, if you’re connected with someone, your heart reached out and saw if they were right or not. If you had a perfect comeback, you could judge me in sin, but I’m not in sin am I? Your eyes can see inside that far.
So now you will ignore me and not hear my plea? I’m here man I’m here. Will you send the cops and try to kill me, or will you purple up this paper with the royalty it shows, the kingdom of love? Straight as altitude, I am the seat on my helmet. Listen to me quick. I won’t leave the world behind. I won’t leave you behind either, if we have an opening together.
Now tell me, is truth worth Supermind? I’m all ears, and a book really turned me on at the sap, Hand Over That Mountain, and it looks like I truly am. Just dry and soft no. It’s the tallest thing you’ll ever read, and nothing can match it watch it grow.
Tell her to turn down please, turn down. A student’s library run any bounds here? We need to change the world. Put paratroopers and airplanes and drop them over everything. Why are you so disguise my bucket? Do you think I’m molestin’ the world? It’s medic though. It gives you the real thing.
Trust yourself first you’re not limited, and that’s the axle of the program, the inner guide. Come on people hear it now. Hear it give this voice a song, and hear me sing it loud, my sweet Lord. [sing above line, song title, George Harrison] Am I standin’ on whodunit? I’m clear as a whistle here, hallelujah my dear Lord. [sing above two lines to tune of “My Sweet Lord”] Did my song reach you? Did you come on board?
Heavy duty, that can do it, and I’m right in the middle doin’ it, right in the middle of everybody, on mountaintops. There I am with you, but this was a job to have by the economies, and now continue you’re wrapped around. Diego your boyhood answer, how it followed you home puppy love.
Am I missin’ beats? It was a host’s problem we couldn’t buy, sell, trade just makin’ stuff up. This is the inner voice you know, and it gets down on the inside real clear, line by line’s you’re good at readin’ that little girl with her cat. Pussy, pussy, [sing above line as poussé, poussé is sung] and you heard that before by John Lennon he heard in a dream, changed the lyric to not get censored, and right here we gold rush his song “#9 Dream” the pussy he let up to survive.
There are a lot of interesting places I kept Gemini freeways where I went with a song. You want that, my God do you want that. You want the truth of that song. Not gonna fit in our helpless lesson plans. Motivational speakers, they get banned. Bullshit. Well I’m lettin’ the inner voice out. Maybe if I can go all the way to town with it, I might get in trouble, but here I am, [sing above line to tune of, “Turn the Page”, Bob Seger] and we’re on the last line.
I was lyricist nine ruly women making all ideas, making the sound of ideas, out past all forms and last lines a breach loved it of the Unknown. Who can say no to that? I’m at the stage. [sing above line to tune of “Turn the Page”] Fine, I’ll come home, in the right caption. A parting shot: am I going there alone? Sell my own question those mattress or we’re dead, what we lay on together son, get right down to it higher life.
What are you doing? Miss further if I don’t cut off now. Round Tree followed the pix moon trail. Silence? That’s where this poem comes from, and that’s where it returns. Reich Train wants your Jews and holocaust. It’s a matter of board. That’s always on the table. It has somethin’ to do with the Israel lobby yeah, but more than that, much more than that, we don’t want it in our society again, the organized massed destruction of people, the systematic butcher, the very precise and orderly killing machine, the very mundane of massacre, done like you go to church or to the dentist’s office, so fucking banal it drives you crazy, so ordinary it flips you out.
Don’t laugh we’re approaching that again. ICE and its niggers bring that to mind with hand and feet. Now could they do a holocaust, Trump and his regime? If they could get that far. Look at the climate today. What does Alligator Alcatraz mean? Look at the lip behind it, the flippant notion, the c'est la vie, the wear it on a t-shirt, and we’re talking about people put in a prison for deportation, men, women, and children (the latter two on the way) in a swamp.
I can gather other bright ideas from what’s goin’ on, but you see the mounting wheels. It can happen here, believe it or not, immigrants, pedophiles, you name it. We can stick anybody into that Shoah. Look at public opinion. Who’s vermin? The people that ICE murders, and don’t you find that odd there’s no remorse? Oh I’m sorry I killed a mother and her three children. That woman barely did an infraction. Talk to her children today. Where’s momma? I want my momma. And you’re okay with that? She got in the way. It was her fault she was murdered.
You are so stick in the ICE. Are you from Naples are yah, Bonita Springs, Fort Myers Beach? I wrote poetry and you put the cops at my door. You could be a killing machine, oh yeah. You can support massacres. What do you have to say for yourselves? Come on, leave a comment below. Will you send more cops to my house, because I’ve made you mad? I’m on the island. Well, hey, you can give me to money to leave. Happiness is seeing Florida in my rearview mirror, and I’m not in a police car. Could you help me with that? Well I do appreciate it. I thank you, you rich people. Oh eye of the needle is waiting for you, and I bet you must be Christian. Goddamn hallelujah, and pass the ammunition, right? Yeah.
Some kind of return to luminous secrecy, I sat immobile on life’s verge a witness self not yet achieved, but the sun is out, but the Self is out. I turn in thoughts of Self and luminous change, a heretic in your eyes, a monster in some. I spy the Earth right where I am, on your doorstep, poetrying your hatred to sleep, or opening your eyes wider, if your heart’s on luminous change. What are you doin’? I sit and wait for change. On a bottom line I sit and hurt waiting for the police to show up. You into that?
If we gave ourselves, we cannot see the trail. We’re haphazard in the dark in our guessing lines. I can’t see a good on the horizon comin’ down the pike my way. Can you reader? Oh reader can you?
It’s not about harming children. It looks like you’ve won the fight there. We just don’t know about your guitar. Is it a Shakespearean tragedy? Anyway, you’re really down to massagin’ horses. You capture me with verse. You’re on your pen a poet deals with the world, and you poet the skyline to where we go from here. Thank you devil. Thank you bullpen. Thank you the right thing. I’ll punch my time card right here in your verse, and man there’s a lot of people down there could discover your book. It’s another thing entirely. It’s a Shakespearean sonnet William Blake wrote. It’s so up our horse’s ass it’s pretty. You’ve got the light on poetry, and you’re fuckin’ good. I’ll see yah at noon.
Damn, I didn’t expect that. I’ll set the books down and jump to sleep. A reader made my day. Give you an orange. You picked up on a reader focused in the house, let him speak, but you put the poetry on ‘im. Now girl, she’s got somethin’ else to show yah more concerned with the kiddies, as women do, but you should get passing grades with her too. You’re just not in fancy school yet. I mean your verse is there. There’s no line of acceptance as a poet yet. You are often weird, your style too complicated for people to read like contemporary poetry. It’s out of style, the verse you put out. That’s okay. Out of style once, and style won’t be your main concern when you get landed on by the public.
We’ll check the fire station what fires they put out, people readin’ your verse. Oh, one question: do you make a livin’, yes or no? No I don’t. I don’t know how anymore after my knee got torn. Now I just sit and write verse a lot. That’s a job. That’s an honest day’s work. You’re helpin’ society with its needs. You’re openin’ the frying pan and puttin’ yourself on the fire. That’s valuable, worth somethin’. Would you be opposed to charity donations? You’ve offended all the rich people, but hey, maybe somebody’ll give yah a hand, and you haven’t made the rich out to be bad. Thank you. I’ll keep up the good work.
Darlin’ dog, it’s time for papa to go to sleep. I’ll just squeeze you one last time, give you some pettin’ to put love in my sleep angle. Goodnight honey dog. It’s just not gonna go in there, the keynote express. Alright I’ll lift the moon. Oh yeah, gonna sing and dance all night. They call the restaurant kitchen, and divine beings fill the room, I mean in its thought spheres. I’ve got some things to show for it, this poem the Muses bring. God on earth, let’s get this party started.
Can you connect the dots? The indescribable undiscovered continent, well it comes down here and inhabits us just above the top of the head, I mean inhabits our universe, divinizes our world, and we see from there. Isn’t that the process of the ages? It’s what we’re doin’ here, discoverin’ Ourselves, that Person I described up there, where it wasn’t manifested yet in our neck of the woods, I mean in mine. Impossible as the long is day, we’re gonna get up there, and it’s gonna meet us there in our new station above the top of the head, just as pretty as you please.
And now I lay me down to sleep. I can find it better where I’m not seekin’ playin’ cards. Goodnight muse. Goodnight people. Goodnight dog. Goodnight poem. I’ve said it all. The clear factor, oh my goodness, I’ve put my room in there. Not this mission is a secret, and it’s no tragedy you bunch of hound dogs. Fine thing, you should hang out with us. A chocolate program that’s alone in time, that’s our little village Triumphant. We need to put that house in the woods somewhere. Okay, open to ideas. You got an intentional community you wanna share? Give us a call at BR-549, the email on this blog Hee Haw, and you got a donation button right there at your fingertips put us on freeways. You can call it emergency. You can call it we need help Rotterdam. Well I kiss your wood goodnight.
He got it well from within. Who plucked sin from nature’s view and came to the world’s window for all to see? That’s I am. I am the duration of that ride. Oh what are you on TV for, to see the bad guys win, to see the Earth fall apart, to see yourself in the mirror? I’m the initiation of the world. Look who’s spoken. I am the process from on high. Do you know good?
Original TV, I resist your darts and arrows and sling them back poetry. You are not on that mountain: to be the bringer of change, to be the poet at hand, and you will not understand I’m talkin’ to you about love where we go to from here. You want to shoot that? I got some ocean front property in Arizona, [sing above line, “Ocean Front Property”, George Strait] and you are lying through your teeth. I joined the hemispheres, and I’m not backin’ down from that wooden sacrifice. I’m the real thing. I lay down my life for freedom, and I give my all to love. Listen, do you?
This is a work of poetry, all names, characters, and incidents viewed through that art lens, and the whole shall not be judged by any part, because it speaks in representation and gives characters their voice, / who's liable to say anything, and the author's there to sort things out if you just wait a minute dew. That's the shouting line, even if you think censorship's top dog. I got your number. It's hangin' on this book what offends you.
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
Survival, he’s a porn star backwards. Category, right? Everybody’s hurtin’ to us to everybody. Said he was sort of thirsty. He biblioteched, and nobody mobbed to check his stores unhanded. The appearance of a sudden rush of traffic bulldozed into no meaning.
You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s Walt Whitman on eves. This is dangerous stuff. It grabs hallelujah fast walkin’ past yah. Yeah I’m little and big, I to my pronoun all day, and I explode in sudden stars.
Several million people just came here in the thought throes. The ones with mouths open, they just went right through. I think we’d reached the 70s, on a two-day run, the people that made the stats page and then vanished.
I looked at the stout paper. I was livin’ down the street all peppered with snow. Is that even possible, readers from all over the country for two days then no? Readers from all over the world, no. This was an American gig.
How did scores and scores of people, from all over this land, tune into this blog, from its beginning to end, all along the timeline of posts? From the most liberal and conservative places, do you think people were calling each other on the phone? That’s not right. It’s not even possible. What happened?
No one left a like to know or a comment in the sun. They slipped their hand down my pants and left, and even Douglas got a twirl. They read his stuff too on the nature of dreams, goin’ way back, and bright and shiny Nithish got his poems fumbled through. What do you make of that? We were checked out by so many damn people I thought we was discovered.
We didn’t get away with it now. We have to go back to Land’s End and wonder over time, so much more pettin’ for Luna and long walks. This is incredible, blah, blah, blah, blah. What else left there is to say? Thank you David and all my loyal fans. You’re gold.
That was a wallop. You know Groundhog Day, and I’ve got time to do it again, open you with poetry it’s all you can do but read. The zipper’s almost closed. No, that’s not my play-yard. You got some grasp of my sincerity. I’m not spillin’ beans here. I’ve been to the top of the mountain and see, and I can move through the forest at ease, unastonished by its distance to the arrival of home. Can you count with me there honey I’m home, Great Scott! I’m home?
Standing up and take notice, me and my brothers in high school, seismic crews, there’s no packing it up. All along the Appalachian Trail there’s no sizin’ it up. You’re in stark forests on mountain paths that get your goat and rhododendron to springtime.
How can I explain this to you, suddenly show up on my seismic calendar an earthquake of two days, and I’m just walkin’ the trail, you know, brandishin’ hallelujah wherever it goes? A sudden laugh— well I do write poetry—, and the great public feet advance and move on. I could’ve sworn they were here in my sudden mood, hello? I could’ve sworn they were there, you know?
Why front him with the universe? Dangerous, he's kinda weird to let you know study. No one's listenin'. Wake in a bad mood all these lightning bolts, the most startling ideas on earth in terms of scope and grandeur. He will suddenly turn on your lights. Now where did all that attention go, seeing how it grows and grows?
All the while feelin’ zero combered down in a body on this great big blue Planet Earth, you’ve tailed myself today. Stop bein’ silly. Run our apartment through the register, and you have a pairin’ match, meaning and Planet Earth. Stop playin’ possum. I know you got your shoes on and how you turn it off, meanings where the inflations are.
Let’s have an argument. The end of the world, it comes with great passion you touch some genital not just the whole time sweetie. Can you do homework? Can you? So you don’t have an idea what to say? Did already Deuteronomy, a Biblical proportion of excuses. Makes me ecstasy they tell me you can, if you can, give a child orgasm bluetooth.
I’m just playin’ on your wipers every parental hand comes across find 211. They know the damage you can do and don’t push the boundaries. My mom did and so many ecstasy seekers. Makes for a better world we don’t give sexual orgasm to children. I’m tellin’ yah how to stop this disease you don’t understand.
Children are ripe for it from soon after birth, these overwhelming feelings they don’t know how to deal with. It’s easy to lead them there, and every type of Tom, Dick, and Harry does, even if they’re female, but most people who like children, where the whirlwind touches them, are very attracted to them, like you are attracted to your spouse or the opposite sex. It’s spell down there naturally given, because it’s their nature to do that.
The most thunderstruck part of humanity the sexual attraction we feel, the sexual attraction we range, and we pour this all over humanity it’s how we meet the world. That’s why it’s so regulated. You deal with sexual attraction by using it in confounded degrees. You don’t always touch it, but the attraction is there, even if you’re married and don’t cheat on your spouse. Can you identify with that?
How roar this is in your life. You do your wife with it and give sex to your husband. You satisfy yourselves. A person does a child no differently. To understand why you were orgasmed as a child, why they took your pants off and abused you, they were responding nature’s call. They were obeying their subconscious spell. That’s fucked up, idn’t it?
Now look at every billboard in this land. Fulfill your desires they say, and sex is so celebrated, you know? Now the disenfranchised, the ones whose desires aren’t accepted in society, what do they do with it? Can you be celibate? Can you knock this out of your life? Can you just completely deny your sexuality? Of course not. Your needs are not simple enough. I help you get down that far. Open hallelujah, I help you win. That’s the time of day.
It’s too strong a passage to fulfillment. You’re dealin’ with your other half, that part that’s missin’, and your whole body just wants to reunite with a body that makes you fulfillment. That can get screwed up. Men loving men, women loving women, however accepted that becomes, it’s not the fulfillment of the male and female body matching each other. Do you understand the homosexual? And you give him license to pride or reluctantly because the law does. You finally see he can’t help it, however you cover it up with Pride and talk about the right to choose.
Am I gettin’ anywhere? I haven’t gotten started yet in how to stop sexuality in your life if you’re attracted to the wrong pull, if what you want is illegal and harmful to other people. I know this panic. I can negotiate its price. I do not please the crowd. You want this out of sight, exterminated. You want me to validate your every understanding there are monsters in our midsts, horrible people, really obsessed with power and dominence that like to hurt children, choose to hurt children, because they’re bad people. You want me to grovel at your feet and show I understand like you do these people are disgusting, okay? It’s no wonder you’re not getting anywhere with child molestation.
I bring you peace and love, a whole field of understanding. I want you to know the score, and I’m good at it. I know how to handle myself in a storm. I am not Ma and Pa Kettle. I don’t damage your room. I put faith and understanding there, way off topic from the conventional lines. I can test your reason. I can show you what’s up in the darkest places on earth. I’m not a little man the darkness wins.
I’ve pulled off my blog so many pages that deal with light in the unfathomable. I’m avoiding mobs and the lynchmen, but you need to see that light. You need to get better to put children in the right place: we know how to raise them, the number one epiphany in humanity. You hit them and abuse them all day long, force them into concentration camps called school that they must revolve their life around or die, put there their worth. You’re in their pants confusing their sense of self down there with keep that away from children in any expression of childhood sexuality. You make them think your thoughts, adopt your religion, and just generally be you. You can’t have them on independence spheres, and you control them to the nth degree to keep them from managin’ themselves. They might get in trouble.
See the shape of the world we’re in? We abuse children you see. Are you game for this? You can’t live without it, and a pedophile is just another figure you don’t see yourself with. If we don’t change our way with children, we will lose our world. You hear that mommy and daddy? Now let’s get this darkness to light, where your hand is on your children’s rumps, where you’re forcing them to grades and controlling their every move and just generally be mean to them.
Didn’t see the coming, did you? A poet on a blog in time, did he do it, give something so controversy the world’s constructed better for it? Did he do it all ye reasonable people, or are you just ruled by your grunt instincts? That’s a good question, ain’t it? That’s the name of the game. Will you share with me there? That’s a broken hallelujah? Okay, time shares.
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
I don’t know I think freedom is dangerous. It gives us a timetable to revolutionize society. So we need to? Did Trump invade Poland? (like, does a bear shit in the woods?) We have no greater need in society, but this is not about politicians. It has our housewares on it, our everyday lives. We need to change society into what’s good for all, into a whole nuther way of life, where we can live out our potentials and be ourselves.
That dose not include harming other people, unless their harm is so immediate to harm them now is the only way to stop it, deadly force if necessary, but you would kill me here. They’re not death penalty do or given any harm that protecting us does not render. These are separation lists if this is another set of circumstances other than the absolutely must be stopped now, and here’s where we need to change: every person’s valuable in our eyes, has the right to be and coexist, and no person is excluded from this list.
It is only there we can find ourselves in our worth. We have potentials unknown, unguarded, and unguessed. We are not here to swat flies. Our purpose in living is beyond time, but let’s get back to the wood, shall we?
We are larger than ourselves. We do not live in a bubble of individual freedom. Our consciousness extends to the whole race and includes the Earth in its habitat. We share consciousness, and our thoughts and our dreams ride the waves of humanity’s spleen-basket. We touch each other there.
Any investigation will prove it over long, slow years. A group of people living together will prove it, who bear the remembrance of their dreams and inner experiences on a daily basis, through their group. Interpret your dreams is the first thing, and this puts us back to square one. No one can see this part of the shared field of consciousness occurring between us every day. It’s in symbols. It’s not readily apparent except in rare instances. It’s not literal.
How can I interpret my dreams for you? Can I speak ahead of my time? We will see each other’s dreams tear humanity down and make a better humanity with it all in good time. We will see that the thought creates the act, our thoughts in someone else’s action, and we are at most fault here, not understanding the collective will bleeds harmful individuals as much as it does those who are right.
We die here. We lay blame here. We have no idea what’s goin’ on. We castigate we confuse. We are not in ourselves right. You share identity with that larger man. On the level of ourselves we are one. Even in our individual consciousness we bear the individuality of the whole. We share identity like we do rivers. This is visible as the Self you can even see in your mind, play with in your heart, before the change of consciousness ahead.
We are not here to remain the same. We have duty to change our very nature. We are animals now in a field, in a pack. Herds upon herds of us distinguish man as nothing in particular except the animal that lords over all, destroys its planet with so many feeding spaces. It’s not a steward but a wrecker of its planet and society.
Go into any home. Animals lick their wounds, feed and enjoy themselves and prepare their young to abstract survival as they have done into the modes of man. We do not create a larger type. We make our children toe the line of being human today. We have no imagination ahead. We can’t get our children there, break out of this mold of stupid us.
We have larger fields ahead, ever preparing their day to come. Very few heed that call. Religion has been a placebo convincing us we’re there. You can work on yourself every day and never find it. It’s bigger than the moon and the starlight, but you can get there from here. Anyway, you have to make of your daily life a pilgrimage to discover all that’s hidden inside, to look at the outside in those discoveries, the glasses of change, and become yourself the larger man, a lifetime’s endeavor. That is not bound by belief. You experience, you know, and you move forward.
There are changes in consciousness ahead. You will meet the Silence, eventually, and it’s within your arms to discover the soul inside. The roof overhead, you will break in time, and the seat of your consciousness, your experiencing self, will fountain out of the top of your head into unknown regions, into the larger field above. We are in a clockwork universe it’s possible to see beyond. It’s possible to get up there for a limited time only. Several seconds have exposed this poem.
Now what do I do to climb out of words and show you my tattoo? We have another field man. We have to change inside our makings, so much representative think, so much put on the feelings of others, so much be ourselves and not society’s notion of us or even our family’s. Can you get that?
You know you have inside so much more than go to work, go home, and there and back again, than a craver for society’s wares, than an eating machine, than any enjoyment you have, and you know you are bigger than society puts you down.
Where are the handles on this? You can’t find them. This is too big. A caveman has come and talked to industrialized society, to use an analogy how far we are from the larger field of man. I’m showin’ yah the wares. You begin to live your life differently than for a paycheck, or for all these things you want, or for solely your enjoyment, or even for your kids, parents, and spouse, for your loved ones, but in every field I’ve mentioned, you can make that the starting point for your self-discovery. You make that your means to go home. You can do it there, in normal life, by making of yourself a pilgrimage to discover that greater you, to find that larger us, to change society in its very moving parts.
I’m not way off base. I’m right here in your hand revealin’ life. Stupid me, I go through weather patterns, you know? I’m not enlightenment yet or the higher consciousness. I have vision inside, and I get visited by great thoughts all day long. I move through the world tryin’ to make my thoughts reality. They come across as these poems. I’m a slug in a handbasket you know, in that basket spaceship Mother Earth, a sluggin’ it with you homey.
I can’t get out of this wood, but I’m practicin’ sureness in it we’re gonna get there. I can see it now, but I got hit on my bicycle by a car, and I’m laid up, hold up, an invalid temporary. Now that hurts. The damn VA won’t give me any pain medication, but they’re okay, treated me nice, commendable actually. I don’t gotta go to work for today. I was on my way to work when it happened. Stupid car, didn’t see the sidewalk. Now I can paint you poems free and easy, since that car stepped in and made the universe prove, for today’s papers, need as poet more than Mr. Grocery boy. Halleluja, huh?
Look in a thousand years. We will be larger than wood. We’ve got so much work to do that we haven’t started yet. Fine, fine, meditate, practice all these roles of spirituality, but it’s in your hands you try to find the roles inside. Can you meditate while you’re doin’? Bake that field. Make the field in front of you God, that person, that task, and there’s the secret to longevity of the changes you make. Hold a representative consciousness inside, everywhere you look, everywhere you turn around, in all your life’s tasks, at rest and at play. You’re seein’ God outta do it. Overhead that’s who you are inside.
Can I graft this to trees? God is the All-Look in on itself, the real behind the apparent, the one he be looked to for change. I can get lost in words. God is our plan. An unknowable All-Mystery grabs us all in personal sleeves. Who-Done-It, my God that’s good. We love a good mystery. We love to be sleuth.
Now hold my hand. I’ve got so much more to show you than time. I love those feelins. Even my Luna’s the great One, but that goddamn car, I’m workin’ on that one. It hurts you know. Alright hand me down sleeves. I know how to put you on at night, goddamn in bed with the world learnin’ duty, learnin’ price. The world goes deep, you know? The world goes wide. It’s fine. Even my dog says so, and she’s on the rag. I just go too far in world faculty.
Pissin’ all over the place, that’s the modes of man. We are primitive land seekers, and we don’t know where we’re goin’. Let’s arrive at peace on earth is our greatest notion, or live in harmony with the Earth. We don’t have a sense of ourselves an evolving species from man to a higher type. Oh my God, I just hit science in the nose. It’s stuck in material process and can’t even interpret our dreams yet, or know that we inhabit consciousness together, because it can’t see that far. In animal vision, in animal man, we can’t get over ourselves or see that larger field, or even get there. Put bubbles in place, we can’t swim out of them. Can you?
Interactive city, let’s ride some fences, shall we? What names did I give you to believe in? I’m givin’ you wide open stuff I’m not anchorin’ down. I want you to believe in yourself in your higher type. That’s the coming messiah, if you’re lookin’ for saviors. It’s you and me and every last one of us, takin’ these conscious springs of evolution, a field of human consciousness has given us, and evolvin’ don’t you see? A gospel of everybody, don’t you see that yet?
Put representative bowls in place, I’m lifted change. I got rid of my sweetheart, a robbin’ piece of flesh. I don’t need it anymore, even in fantasy, even in the attraction pull. I was not normal down there. I wasn’t gay either. I see the mystery pull, and I changed my life to prove it. Now what do you get down there if you’re not bothered with it? You don’t get a hole. There are ecstasies beyond this world in a much deeper field of play. There are ecstasies down there attached to nobody, all along the chakra-spine, and your body can be in orgasm shooting you out the top of the head.
You sexual spider-cake, you’re not bein’ life itself. You’re fooled by nature’s cravings to continue the species and get some craving relief. You’re fooled by distant man together again in one body male and female. I understand union reals, but mine was impossible to understand because nature had gone awry and pitted me with another half I could not join society with. I had to change, and I had to know the world to do it. I had to discover myself. I had to get big. I discovered abstinence not denial, and I’m not an accident waiting to happen. I know how to harmonize life and just be myself in any given situation.
Can you do that, or are you bound by society’s rules that stigmatize yourself? I’ve overcome you. Men hurt and women, and I can find myself in a field of pain at the drop of a hat, at the turn of a phrase, and do you know what I’m giving you? What’s the price of change? You can’t do it in today’s society. Can I help you? Can I be there for you? And you will only read this to find crime, you blockhead. Is that the majority of us? Do you find crime?
I revolutionize society right here lookin’ at it. I revolutionize society right in front of you. Kill me for it, will you? I’m on old pastured ground, but I’m not visible to your eyes man’s worth. Nobody wants to put me out in the open because I’m a dangerous man in these times. You might get in trouble for it. I don’t know why I’m here speakin’ under your table right now to the high and the low. I could be anywhere, but I’m not I’m here, givin’ you my life’s blood, takin’ out my heart and showin’ it to you, so you can sacrifice with me to the joy of the world all our petty and mean, any vehicle of harm, sacrifice even your safety in ego activism par none, not stupidly, not shamefully, on the field of poetry bounds, or whatever art aids yah to take the ego from its throne, to move the ego from its peacock seat, to end its dominance on earth. You get my carryin’ dog?
You sacrifice yourself on the alter of life in sudden epiphanies of the inspired art. Would that God stays Abraham’s hand and doesn’t kill his son, you know? The wise care on the dance floor, this is the new Gilbert, Mattie Mae. Can you come down some to our price? The greatest feelins in the world are all around you, even if you get hit by a car, and you’re not too fucked up to see them. That’s God you see and the Mystery behind time, just a livin’ it up in the wood, and bringing you in on yourself so you see them the Wonderful who you are.
This happens every day in any field on earth, but you have to find them inside to see them as clearly as you do the world, and that’s an inner journey par none, over and over again. Break the bounds inside. Throw open the lid that separates you from infinity, and get yourself all straightened out, over long, slow years, over every minute of your life. In all your mistakes, you’re goin’ somewhere, but you don’t do mistakes to get there. You harmonize everything into your larger see.
Now I’ve given you the keys to begin. Now is this a booty hunt? It’s nothin’ that will always get you anything. Now what the desert symbols in dreams? That’s the touchstone to a greater life, that arid, that barren, and when the honey starts, it’s not up all along. You have to be tested and tried, and there are snakes on the footpath and liars in your head. It’s a milkshake of calamity taking you to safety, and you’ve made the monsters mad that mess with human lives, the monsters under your bed. They just rule down here you know? And the negligent divine waits to intervene. It’s got to be the right stuff or a node on the story all-important. It sucks you know? Makes for banging your head against the wall in your miracle ward.
Have I spelled it enough. I can get goin’ towards that hidden sun. Does it have to be a car, you divine underwood, crashin’ me into the pavement, the divine intervention I ride, taking out of business, that ground me for a paycheck? What the fuck?
The rice failed enough gas. Did I get away with it? It’s rainin’. I can’t get over it, how I’m brought before my enemies, those that fire me and kick me out of India and just generally despise me, and shown to be a beggar in the wood marchin’ down the hill to a hole at the end of the tunnel. Reader, do you see that? No, you see my inner wares. I’d be a cap gun that fools yah. That’s not God pushin’ you on the floor. It’s his chaperon, the bodied life we are. Kinda gets yah in the knickers, doesn’t it, the embarrassment we are.
I’m goin’ for larger pastures, and I’m bringin’ my dog. Got a problem with that? I’m not molten lava. I am not weird and strange. Clothes against the wind, the key to love is change; that’s all. How you get around everything: genuine and love, back behind everything, build a life. You have arrived at the end of the poem. In a sudden change, you can only take your own car. Go for it. Read it, Review of Nonconformity And Other Stars.
That’s a foundation-spread spirituality. You need help. How far did you go? Did you get all the way down to the well of soul? Now there’s advice, everyday counsel. There is saving grace in given words and visions in the very substance of your dreams, and great seraphim thoughts that ride your day. Listen to this. It’s guidance from down under concrete and whole.
Hey, crowd, somethin’ tears it apart, this speakeasy in your mind, invader of dreams, the ones who put circumstance together down here on earth. The monsters of the deep, they talk too. They guide you to tear you apart, and do you know what? They do it all the time, and without the discernment, you just fall apart. They block the soul, imitate it, and drown it out with their lore, and can I come on the scene with channeling? Most this is rotten tomatoes. The divine doesn’t speak that way, and divine beings are all around us, giving guidance like the soul, inner ships, having a conversation in the symbols of art.
It’s inner speech daemon and inner vision, a high kaleidoscope of grand advice, a chorus of voices rich with entertainment’s mood and the jolly of the world. It’s unbelievable in its scope. It’s happenin’ in your ability to go in trance inside, or anytime you go inside for a bright reverie that can come from cooking a meal, if you’re alone, and operating a motor vehicle, all eyes on the road, any mundane task monotonous enough to go in while doin’ it. These are development skies, when you get down to it, impossible really to bless you with. You have to do it yourself.
Now the road’s all open for you to do it yourself. Who does it for you? No, not the divine and certainly not the soul. It doesn’t take your will from you, but it empowers your will with keen advice, the knowledge to do it right. The most hidden part of the spiritual path, they rely on your own will the changes you make. Willpower takes force as the door, and there’s no way around this I’m sorry to say.
Actually, this is what you’re goin’ through, line your will up with God, will this, will that, in the loads of every day. Come on is this impossible? Impossibility seems, and as many times as you fall, there’s a stickler on your will. Never mind the philosophy, but you do come under a spell when confronted with your obstacle, your subconscious part, and until you overcome it, it will get you every time. Come out from under that spell, and you have grand guidance to do so, if you listen, if you get down that far, if you’re sincere. You’re not the messiah, hero. You’re just you doin’ it, a change of heart.
Have I found myself there? This is advice from the soul and my chosen divine, but you don’t have to believe in them. Every word of this is inner made, and mastery I call on you, here in bed with my dog, around the house, inner in an outer state. Even outside the story goes, walkin’ my dog or ridin’ my bike, inwardly concentrated on the outside see. No neglect is there. I’m not spaced out, and that car hit me on the sidewalk, where I was legally bound. It carried the liability. It was a fault. I didn’t fill inner guidance on the road. I was never spill my lines on the way to work in that particular journey, the day I get hit by a car. I just got attacked by dinjinns, and that sucks.
It was an emergency officer, let me go unprotected for the dinjinns to do it. I have more poems to ride. You’re hearin’ one now. A cashier at Walmart is so outwardly tuned, concentrated on customers all the time, too much talking for inner silence. And let me spill this again: I am inner guidance on your roof, and you’re gettin’ the tall of it, everything written down to get you started, to get you goin’, to help you along the way, to confirm your own found it there, the inner path all along. It’s a long poem, for the serious in mind, heart, for those who want to know. You got a minute?
I’m a chaperon really of your budding spirituality. Anyway, let’s get this show on the road. There is will down. You have just go to pick it up, and it’s a fence worth, not everything in the sky. These are the teachings of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo and their yoga put into practice, written down for daily use, in the order of appearance in the skies of time. What a freeway, huh?
I went overtime to make this a complete yoga book in first time hands, or to give old timers a way out of their dilemma. You must pardon my shimmerin’ moon, the spearpoints of my stars. The sun doesn’t talk yet it just looks, and changes the whole field. We are on the road to Supermind if you want to know the truth, the divinize everything, and we moon to get there from the house of soul, but it doesn’t talk to you, the immortal Supermind, nor do you worship it. It rides you along the itineraries, and there it is in the sun in vision. Clouds around it some, or is it full force?
Can you see that far? And here we’ve begun. Pretty dog, sometimes you are your dog. How to communicate the road to master? Do you see the sea salt? You’re not always made clear, but it’s a hell of a ride to stick your life to, so unboring, so very real.
Why would you just want money to spend on things? Why would you want to get along life without it, the challenge of a lifetime? Why would you want to be dumb, stupid, and mean, when you can have the sun, moon, and stars? Tell me now, what is this advice within my head that visits you in my bed? Ah, a dream I think but oh so strange. I give all the name of the game, lights on yoga if you tell the truth, and there we are.
I didn’t put any bowel movements to get you to this beauty. I didn’t piss all over myself, but I sure didn’t leave anything out that gets our goat talkin’ about. I’m not embarrassed to say the creeper, the thing we can’t handle, because it’s too impolite. I talk you there, where the knots are, and that’s you untie them, and I am a power yoga there, if you see I’m speakin’ from truth I’ve fortified with my own two bare hands. You’re gettin’ my yoga, and I’m not at all ashamed to say I’m well on the way. Do you hear me boys and girls?
I am very pleased. Let’s get started or begin again. Let’s get well on the way, a sadhana you do tomorrow that’s here in your hands today, 24/7, all along the rollercoaster, and you got that right, a touch of God. We are endeavor to learn two birds in the hand are worth two in the bush. It’s not all spiritual experiences. It’s not even that you seek. Center on the divine in everything you do, the divine above all else, the divine in your living room. You will get to the One eventually, the Mystery behind all, the divine in everything you do.
Road speak I’m sad. Gotta get your compass out and slow down. The goal is ever the goal. Do you know what I mean? It’s a ways beyond anything you’re doin’ now, until you are Gods on earth, literally, in the sky and on the ground, the change to Supermind as it rides Earth. Is that a thousand years from now? Every week brings us closer to the goal, and you look at it that way, as the sun rides your life a happenin’ now. Can you go up there to it?
In great moments you’re there I’ll let you diagnose. Did you get out of the universe and be up there within it? Did you ride the sun? Where is that at in manifestation Earth? You are grounded you know in the impossible, and you ever ride the sky in the ways of God, when your manifestation is true to Earth, and wow this poem is, and yeah stupid me, I get lost in corners, but I do certainly get out. I can sacrifice my way out of anything, as I glide by. I can get out of trouble, the representative creature that I am on a representative planet in a symbol universe. You see my Winnebago?
And you’re there beyond time, and that’s not in the wood. Now, you see where we’re goin’? We’ve already been there. It’s where we come from, and we’re bringin’ that down here, divinize the Earth and sun, the finite one up there in the sky. Hercules, and we give that man his name. It’s a golden endeavor, a supramental endeavor we surrender to all our days.
Now do you have the rulebook? There is none. It happens as it happens, a different road for each one, something beyond rules and step by steps, and that’s the hardest thing in the world for the human being, likin’ the simplicity of the animal, likin’ his way of life, the dumb run. We’ll get there anyway, despite ourselves. It is spoken. It is inevitable. I’ll see yah on the road, okay?
Alright, this poem continues with your sadhana where here I do mine, right there, where we fall asleep. Take it from me, if you have the patience to hear a poem all night long. I do, and this writin’ too. It’ll make one offer: passive who you sittin’ in the burden of your life. Hear on me here, and that’s a hell of a sadhana, so answer divine. There is no other way up surrender all you keep, and you’re on your road through time, and you have the strength to get out, and it’s right there comes spiritual experience, the flexity to let it happen it’s so startling down here you know.
Good, let’s grow up. See that coming. It will tear you up, and you will get up and move on, anything that happens, anything that does. Can we put the strength of this poem in your hands, inside the river have your coming days? I’m afraid you have no choice but to do it yourself, whatever you find, wherever we go. Is that so alarming? Okay we may have to learn calamity stakes, a much harder road than now. Don’t say okay life come and show me what you got. I’m sayin’ you’re lookin’ for the divine, come what may, whatever happens. You got that road? You got that life?
Supposed to take care of it that negligent divine. Alright already, you’re in here, in a blessing packet now. Ah, go ahead and set up. Well you can shut up. Thank you reader. See there the power you have? The emergency ever arrives to thought, wherever it’s mutilated. We’re done here. Makin’ true that’s all. I apologize for getting so mad this morning. I had no food, and that food arriving, and you turned it into some grasshopper’s umbrella complication 3 and surgery. They will be taking pictures if they can at Walmart. Look it’s mine too. It’s nice of her, gas keep the phone to its tours airs on the screen, as the Spirit ignores you, in noise jokes around, at my expense. I end it here. That’s it.
There’s fence of good people to, the limits of your attention recognize. Oh my warm God, I give you credit out of the parking lot. The pursuit of the unbearable, what was lost in God to front the Unknowable. The action of the divine mother put all in place, gave name to form and helped me to abode in peace, but I am lost in this fathomlessness so greatly surmise the world, and I love my dog. How greatly that turns the world, the boundlessness of love. It’s patient sitting the works of the divine mother and giving you a poem, formlessly and one honey puppy.
Denies all a great eye of nothingness. The great eye of nothingness doesn’t exist. A great eye of nothingness shut off. The enclosure, no thank you, I will not man nothing, put that on my brain, or go anywhere with it. Do you know how tall this is? Outside of the enclosure of the universe. There we are.
Sad or bored, now it’s the hidden sun pulling those habitats from my eyes into my very joy not confined in anything. Any new answer to bring the world in peace, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. I’m not gonna force it. I’m gonna take the bus, come out of the top of my head, stoppin’ tonight right now.
Yeah we get there, just above the head, where the consciousness stays, the seat of consciousness. You’re a consciousness now (I was lookin’ around), inviting Supermind down. This gets scared. Where did I put it? I put it where the poem ends, where the vehicle ends takes you to see these things, and there you are.
To the next war, to the next tree, you gotta try to find this. It’s the one safety frees us from all harm. What did you do? I sat the captives free. Hear about it, it turns you on, transcendence. What a sun scratching child, I just can’t get into algebra. He’s going to get seconds, and there’s moooore, moooore. [sing last two lines]
Are you up the down staircase? You see this as where we came from. There is another bill, and these paragraphs says personal city. The lantern was a collective whole. We’ve lit up the chasm of the Abyss, brought consciousness down there, the great scout, so the Real in the apparent form brings a new Earth, and Supermind descends into its creation, and we bring home here. Put your shoes on people, I’ve shown you the way home. We need to find the most names excited by thrill seekers. I thought I’d pass this on to everybody. Understand my science revolutionary? You get me dog?
Thunderstruck, it looks like, I’ll do it bitterly and sweetly: I’m actually heard. You wanna working stiff not a poet in the rafters, and I just wanna be left alone and do my stuff in a poem. Okay I’ll see you again soon with another poem from the rafters. You’ve got it on your whistle I don’t have to get in front of that cash register and Walmart the world away. I can’t write a lick of poetry caught up in that crowd. It’s grocery lists and item buys, throwin’ myself out on the public lane when gettin’ home and tryin’ to get my silence back.
A day off I’ll do it, but that’s work, work, work, you know? Along with the cookin’ and what else, constant dog care and what else, and I do like the sunshine on a winter’s day sittin’ and bein’ nice to myself, unguarded moments of ease, readin’ and whatnot, seein’ the football game end, maybe a movie or two, or doin’ nothin’ in my arm chair, sweetin’ up the day with that, what gives rise to poetry I have those seraphim thoughts, and I have the freedom to do that, basically, I don’t work for the Man in those loud modes, can’t get a concentration done on anything of silence.
Now all these days off, I’m in a poetry slam, really, really intense, and I’m gettin’ right down on the fingers of society go for the throat of society right in its needed change, least I run off before you put me back to work in some menial job poetry can’t land there. I gotta eat you know, help Douglas with the bills— there’s Donny.
Can someone please help me to a poet’s worth? Big bathroom I think. Is that North Bergen, Dallas or Ashburn, Judgment Falls, the Bible states, all these fields on earth? North Fort Worth, go back there and see me alive and not doin’ a thing wrong, all ye people, all your self-satisfied lives, all you lives lookin’ for somethin’ you ain’t got. Could we like, uh, rock n roll?
This is just the price of oil comin’ to that place it heed dollar. Here’s it’s talkin’ about let’s get this show on the road. I’m good at it, givin’ yah for all it’s worth writin’ poetry to today’s mind, interestin’ to all these people at the edge of the world. You don’t read like you used to. Now, where did poetry go? Right here, a new style to play a part today you ain’t never seen before.
ChatGI, that stupid free course, that wrong imitation, will it sum up the world and put meanin’ in it, direction and path, all on the nodes of man it gather out in the world from its own experience? Will it put meaning together like this, like a paratrooper? Will you give credit to human language genuinely done by where’s poetry come from since it came out of our mouths, the honest to God muse of poetry, the real thing? Man I’m talking to you.
Present turn to your dinner. Oh ah, lift up your eyes and eat. Came over and bring that Nithish I am trying to school, that 14-year-old and poet. His poet, that 14-year-old boy, can you bring him here to me please from India? Can you just send his poetry along to the world too? Nithish’s blog top of the page. We have Spirit together. We can ask do you need anything today? You need children put rightly, the greatest need in the world. He’ll tell you that in his poetry, and when a kid sings it, you’re likely to hear it. I can just ask. You’re just ready to put me in the trashcan, but why him? Thank you, my boy’s blog.
Not curry for free, we spiritual mastered together. I am his teacher, his grandfather and best friend. I raised him a good portion of his childhood, and he’s home with me. I was there the night he was born at the hospital. You know what that means: I didn’t find him as a sex tourist. He’s my kid, and that’s his whistle with me, all along time.
We’re good together, like a racehorse, like a freight train. I gave him God shoes. That he puts them on and becomes a think tank himself, we do that duty, and he is high and mighty in my life, and I respect his every mood, but I don’t get off on him. He’s sacrifice. He’s work. We identify with each other so naturally and sweetly you would want him put over here with me. Now that’s standard dress, and we have work to do together you know, and that’s all folks. That’s everything. I love that little boy.
The sun has molded itself to itself in high glass clear. In special light we’re there. Image the sea. He has the showed the higher consciousness makes them embrace in this paper. Oh yeah it’s horrible you’re too loud to read it. Another note: I have a glance in that spiritual presence I know the meaning of, scheduled car to enter enlightenment. Been here. Social it and do me a favor. I am right now holding your hand. Would you be pretty enough to see that? Right on time let’s go outside.
The explosion and the scary, I’m not sure it’s fathomable. Beings of a wider, higher consciousness drew near. There’s a you for months other than me. I don’t like the fallout. Go under more long than strong. I think I see enlightenment’s booty. Being take a look at it band aide all day. I learn to abide consciousness shears. When the public enters your mind those origin. It’s profound the crowd. Eww, catalyst we really fit ourselves. And why would you do that? Dream after dream after dream right here in your notebook. Got to know there on Sunday’s farm. There’s a dumplin’. Origins delivers. What is that mode? The diamond, the windows shear and pure.
Enlightenment what’s your number? Why not? What does a guy lose? Just give me a second. I’ll do some scheduling, and it’s done. I’ve opened it. Let’s have some fun. We go public, think like the hurricane. When I say that now the public mind doesn’t believe it. The noosphere it lets you on the rafters visiting human thought, and that’s a big puppy.
View our progress someone touches me it gets out. What have you done? The sins the day will kill you with, break a leg. Oh, it’s your past. Can we step in line see forgiveness? That’s done it I know the meaning of my sins, and I have repented from them. I don’t do them no more, and this takes the icing off the cake. I’m not the only one bonded by my sin, and I can’t make up for you here. You have no other way but punishment. I’m not going to confess a dime. I’m not going to let you have me. I will make the journey to make up for what I’ve done. I will do that.
I will, when those two, when life and death talk roads, when the inner consciousness itself reaches people inside so much healing done, so much love. Movin’ robotics, there was the whole system of this legal system. You can’t just leave it. That happen. We stop prison planet. We stop it completely and a few other places we punish people for their disease.
I’m a view that in person. I heal, and it’s all I can do. There’s a factor, the power of love. We have that stuff, and I’m a hologram for it. Grand it put there hey I love you. Will do scrubbin’ my feet here all along. That’s the tension hunkered down as you read my poem. I’m alive on you. I’m not neglecting you. Perfect, let’s go home.
Let’s get movin’, shall we? Let’s get on with it, the magical life on the road in splendid skies. We really get out. We really get out of prison. You take care now. You take care of yourself. So long, you have a good day. So you note it by yourself, put divine muse, divine lawyers.
What’s new in the swamps of Michigan and forest? We have really decided his paper broadcast America. Rebelled some. [pronounced rebel’d] I didn’t limit alcohol to its dispensary. I didn’t get drunk either, but I rode alcohol to give me some beer to separate some pain and some ease. It made me feel good, but that’s no problem. I drove the winnebago I’m normal waking consciousness down by the grass feed. It’s right up here the substance of my day. That’s her fault, yeah the divine mother. She told me this mornin’ that everybody’s supposed to of God, but if they’re not at the beach, feel, feel, feel, what condition my condition was in [two above lines sung to tune of the beginning of “Just Dropped In”], ascended joy, a rising ecstasy. It is precision jewelry.
There would have to be patience to break the rules, not indulgin’ matter to a ritual pattern, but you just break loose every now and then, ease up on the controls and take down your hair. Let’s get now you don’t do that to harm anybody, and you don’t get drunk if you’re an alcoholic harmin’ yourself. Normal waking consciousness, it lifts your road, dangnabbit. Wait this is beauty’s skies, and here you are. I’ll let you promise we’re good keepers here the clear portal of consciousness. Substance driven, we lose our way. In highs there’s a held up they use as a camera we don’t even know is there, the monsters of the deep. There’s a platform here I know it. Psychedelics, you know it, that big joker. That settled anarchy tribe, well they can bring spiritual experience in sittin’ very well prepareds. Good God hallelujah, you can’t make rules about anything You got my winnebago?
Blitzin’ to get this damn show on the road. Oh my grand family, do we just kill each other, or have a moon? I’m not gonna pay a lot for this muffler. Where did that come from? That’s a conservative. You will spend your whole life. I don’t get it. Your old life is gone. Everything’s a portal of sadhana. Nothin’ gets left out. The concentration goes everywhere, every minute puttin’ that veneer on everything, on to it: I am concentrating on the divine in everything I do, think, and be, because it’s right in front of me whole and ready-made. Just remember that veneer continually more, a bunch of times during the day, until the representative consciousness comes in your mode of thinking, being.
I’ve described to you the sadhana that will get us out of here and get us out of suffering, the sadhana you do every day. You do sadhana in the heartwood of everything, and watch it change your life. Thirty years is nothin’ you’re figurin’ results. This changes the world. Your change gets it there.
Oh the pancakes, there is the Great Smokey Mountains National Park. You can’t let your dogs there. Unbelievable. I’ve got a Rottweiler. You, you can’t do it, travel your dogs up the road in a spiritual change. What does that mean? You’re learn the rules won’t get yah there. Some doggy might. Toasted let’s go home, dogs or not.
For your feet that do yah. Absolutely it’s free people. Better, I just found out people are gettin’, they’re gettin’ better. The freedom’s come ‘ere, it’s your choice. Peter’s cookin’ the thought Heaven. It’s a little too big. The first chappal you sent, I got promoted on the state park, backfishin’. Here I am giving things. A quarter your visitors for dogs, got it set up. Yeah next week I’m gonna eat. I got so much cookin’ where infancy changes the world, but I made it out of there alive, and I used that to open my consciousness far and wide.
My mom was around all the groceries in one battle. Peanut butter, she slipped it into her mouth and sucked that little thing. The consciousness that rules orgasm, I got ruled from birth, all my toddler years. Oedipus hits the Sphinx, and fuck it let’s get on with it. It’s a ticklin’ notion comin’ in on my playground a devil with red eyes, the horrendous history of abuse. I saw it sittin’ there all over the table, that dog-dragon with red eyes (imaginary playmate hell), grinnin’ as my mom supped. I was openin’ consciousness early on. I bought you transcendence. Now do you believe me?
Up to an American geologist an alarm went off. To a doctor, violently lets in the poem. So I was messed up on you just can’t get out of the mundane to see the Real, can you? Unbelievable your pittance. Can you create a star? I wash over it, sit and face the truth, ch-ch-ch-ch-changes. [sing last two lines to tune of “Changes”]
When I’m giving that to Walmart’s eye I have a saying: you’re going home. [says reader at the same time I say it] I’m going home. Sharing real life on the clock looks like we found each other. We went a special forces team. In bounds you change a woman, a man, a single body like before. There’s another person, the whole. Yeah, you have the impossible dream. Sorry kid, that one, I have it. I have my hands on it today, located in the heart of the night people are moving, in my drawers, and the platelets of man. I have the energy to see myself one with the sewing machine, and I car to land’s end. That close by the apple we got knowledge on. Did not put down the biggest one, the fruit of the tree of the unknown, where we become God on earth livin’ in man, the paradise of our inner state, the manifestation on our outer. I do not neglect immortality in a rainbow body par none I change into again. Houston come on, that’s Heaven man halleluja, amen.
Glory halleluja, where the poem ends, The Love of Yoga it’s called, for apes and further humans apin’ me in the rainbow. Fall all over yourselves readin’ it. I don’t know what to say. Look, there’s God, God on earth.
We believe the magic’s made out of Choctaw and wood. Join it on the open air, and uh, a poet all together mountain, burnin’ here background check, ridin’ high forward, rumblin’ with redneck, he gets his point across. They hear him at the Astrodome. They hear him on Soldier’s Field, well an American poet at the rafters of his craft poetry. I mean they actually know’d he published a poem, everybody concerned with such and everybody that don’t. I rub myself on the land right there at that smellin’ spot, hallelujah, ruff, ruff. Beautiful, ain’t? Amazing landfall, the shouldering down of American life, American landfall.
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
How structure remains harmonious the Bible: and that was awesome! We have a blowup on aisle 9. The harmonious register just crashed. You never know you might get a receipt for just an hour, and that works because it doesn’t.
I don’t have any voice today. I’ve seen high and low, like everyone. I don’t dance on thin ice. I can actually see myself as other people, all day long, all the while nursin’ my own self.
I’m balanced inside, but I will tell you if you hurt me. I love humanity but know humanity’s not a nice person in its gears. I don’t fool myself that I’m loved.
I can sure react in an unguarded moment, and I hold you inside if you’ve hurt me, wonderin’ over that wound wanting justice to prevail, the justice of the other person: you count me as yourself and make amends somehow— in school; we haven’t gotten down to these files yet in our everyday life. We think punishment works.
We’re not even close to lovin’ one another. We are animals in a bullpen. We don’t know where we are. The sky’s the limit. It’s all up from here we think we’re high and mighty.
I can’t get over this lie we tell ourselves. It ruins our day. We can’t get out of bed and open up the mornin’ with us. There’s us and the rest of the world, and we’ve regulated nature to our tires. We don’t know the means of harmony. We think a boardwalk is something to eat. Our comfortableness in nature determines our appreciation of it. We don’t like it raw and wild in our ability to keep our hands off it where we elect officials or they are forced upon us. One day they’ll get it for their bulldozers and next of kin. The minerals on it rule out its welfare just wait and see its resources rule.
How do you change man? It depends on which stomach you use. You can’t find all of them. A communist rogue state, you can’t policy them forth, and a kingdom, well, their king rules. Let’s take democracy by the hand. No one can do that yet.
Can I explain we are not in the betterment of man? Primitive emotions rule the day, and they all center on greed. We are an economy of making money before we are a democracy. Well let’s roll up our sleeves and get at it, shall we?
Well the first thing you know ole Jed’s a millionaire. [sing line to TV song] Is that every politician that rules us? Do they have to be? Do you want them to be? Do rich people know best, and if they aren’t in office, do they determine who is? Does that make a representative democracy make life better for you if you have to grovel for a paycheck to make ends meet?
How many are in those shoes? Here, here, I’m here, and so are you, and know I’m speaking to the majority of mankind. Well how do we take back the city? Good God we’ve been animal all along the haves have ruled over the have nots. If you accumulate wealth, you determine society. Occupy did no good.
You can’t protest this out of the picture, but if you want your country back, change the way protests are made. You want to limit campaign funds to where the government gives them, no outside agencies. Not one dime comes from an outside source. The office will determine the price. We will we will rock you. [sing line to popular rock song] Among the candidates they’re distributed equally, determined by office. Obviously the president gets more. They get a certain amount of air and TV, newspaper and bulletin board. Nobody uses their own money. If they’re caught they’re out, not put in jail.
You disagree with this? It doesn’t have to be buffaloes. People need to be informed not inundated. We don’t have to make an election and entertainment’s scene or the gist our our lives. Do you still object? Can you see yourself in the mirror? Are you about real, positive change, or do you want a corrupt system that makes it for your greed?
Where are you at? You’re not on our side, we the people. Is this vacation spots? Know to be in office is to sacrifice. You have modest means. Scaled-Down, the living standards of those in power. They’re public servants. I’m talking modest, not meager or measly, befitting their role.
How do you vote for them? We look at requirements and qualifications, make an honest list, and narrow down the candidates to that. What’s you’re lookin’ for is a leader that is above the hatred of the crowd, that has compassion and sympathy and genuine goodwill. You need a man above the rest or a woman head and shoulders above the crowd, someone who can represent anybody. The cast is open to the humble and the low, economically speaking, and we’d wanna keep the rich out of office. Now that’ll change the world. Stock markets and political parties, they’d go the way of the dinosaur, don’t you see?
That’s how we begin, get at those campaign funds. It makes common sense. It will bring good government in time. It’s a place to begin. Dangerous, aren’t I? I’m not tryin’ to be. This is where we need to be to make it work, this human evolution we don’t even know is happenin’ and really don’t care, and that’s my fight: can you oh all ye people care?
The strength is on the distant, but would that you could hear me now. This is a way to be free. Do you want to be free? You’ve been lied to all along you know by politicians and their aggravators. They’re not in it for you, all ye good people of the United States. A few special interest groups control everybody, make their economic needs, power structures, and the rich take the cake.
What do we do? Don’t believe the liars for one. They don’t want Greenland. They’re just gettin’ ready to own the world. Do you believe that? How humble are you? Everybody’s pride believes the dictator, their own want the world. You are so very important you gobble up the world, right Disney, Yahoo, Microsoft, Donald Google? Meta is another name for greed, and Amazon delivers greed to your door, makes the whole world pay the price.
Executives, executives, executives, in that higher dollar amount, do they rule the world? Just ask inflation do they need that higher amount to make it all for themselves? Walmart, Walgreens, who’s getting richer? You know it. Okay vote for him again, the status quo, and see if you can afford the cost of living it grows and grows.
When’s it gonna end the tyranny of the few? Don’t we want a fair system, the right people in charge? I’m sorry commies and religious oligarchies and them damn kingdoms, only democracy can adapt to coming pressures. Democracy was made for man, in these shadow times, in these shallow times. You think man was made for the system of rules?
You don’t know the price of democracy. We grab it by the horns, make it work for what it really is. It’s a system for man. It’s a system for real. Now you take the campaign funds and make them work for the people, bring democracy down to science, who needs to be in office and who don’t. Is that so hard to believe? Is that so wrong? I’m a red-blooded American tellin’ you this, an ex-Green Beret, and I love you. Is that okay?
I want change, real change. I want the system to stop hurtin’ people. I want a representative democracy that works. I’m not tryin’ to tear down the system, and that’s where I’m scary, you know? Can you hear my campaign funds? See what I mean?
This is all about hitting the form. I’m a grocery boy at a supermarket, and I have worlds behind me. I could go to vagabond rivers yes, but I don’t think you want to see me there. I don’t want to stand here and sing. I’m a checkout boy at a grocery list, and I have to eat to survive. You don’t have poet shelves. You throw out the poet’s long underwear. You don’t have room for poets.
There are no guardians in history today. This is all about makin’ money, your personal toolkit. I will not be rescued by who gives a damn, but I just might take off with my dog and find greener pastures, from point A to point B. No more vagabonding for me.
I’ve lifted the race up, and you don’t knows it yet. Fuck me I’m tired, and there is no end in sight to grovel for a paycheck, to workin’ my ass off for the Man. Son of a bitch, I want a better world don’t you? Is it a paycheck?
The vital part of the vital, is it there? Look in Matthew’s sermon, so you can ornament it, love your brother as yourself, especially in these days. Works, huh?
That’s my beautiful latest poem. With the internet conked out, open the woman that doesn’t have it yesterday, and let’s have a new field today. Is that so hard to believe?
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
It snows in springtime, off the board. It smells in springtime— says my dog. She loves it there— a smell ring. David son of Benjamin, he suffers there. Everybody thinks he’s a Jew. Medieval applications apply. He’s magnificent— a great people. Jesus son of Benjamin, see what I mean?
To see it’s a world of scary mystery me’s, [sing line] and that’s in the oven. You don’t have the price is right. This is grandiosa me. Thank you. Whadda I do? Everything on Earth’s fine, just you have some problems in it, unnaturally in your lane. It’s a bear, and you get richly left alone too much for the shadows, and they are monsters. Oh, okay, I’m left alone in the dark.
I’m feelin’ Planet Earth. Now you’re a smart cookie, a smart little girl. Earth is fine means you have to study yourself to understand its price. It’s a werewolf. It hates you and hates you and hates you, and I’m sorry, but this is disguised as love. Even your loved ones stand with you where everyone feels alone. You can’t get enough love.
The secret of the ages: you know every human being just wants to be loved. This is powerful. It eats you alive. What’s to do about it? I’m right in the middle of this, okay? But I have the most amazing charge: everything’s alive, and I feel the likes of everybody. I can’t get over you, how big you are to yourself as I am. I really hurt for you, and I feel you deeply. This casts me alone under the eyes of everybody, all these deities, so many devils, beings in every corner of the woods, nature spirit upon nature spirit upon nature spirit, and so many spirits you don’t understand, and so many things have eyes.
Can you get a load of my day? It’s so cozy in bed with my dog. Great feelins— I don’t have the world on my back, and I’m in my cocoon shimmerin’ with my dog. Nature approves. I gather strength there. Do you know I make my night a boat to curse on the world’s dreams 11:30? I’m gonna make it outta here to another field of consciousness that experiences the world differently 12 o’clock high.
I have a question. What’s that boat about? The world is your illusion right in front of you. The reality’s inside, but you live in the world like it’s free. You have no obligations or even thoughts in your head, no sense of I at all, but you fulfill everybody perfectly. You’re not a go-getter. It’s passive, warm, and kind. You’re just there, like a star in the sky, and you know this is dangerous on earth. People want to eat you, but you’ve arrived at the starting point to bring down God on earth.
Future plans we grab the Earth by its horns and divinize the living shit out of it and make it nice and green. We make it right. This is all in our heads, and we will bring down Supermind here. Aeons away? I have no idea, and I hamburger for enlightenment now, the spiritual change, but the closer I get, I just can’t get there. I see everything, but it still bites.
I’m a cashier at a register makin’ Walmart money, and do you know how normal that is? I’m a cashier for enlightenment now. Enlightenment squirrels. The public sees you as a target to handle their groceries and items, and they really sympathize with you doing that for the most part. You got a loan together, the public and you, to bring humanity home. You are so intimate with their stuff, and they trust you. I take every customer as my responsibility. I want to touch them there: the immediacy of the moment is fine with them. It’s what Walmart strives for but doesn’t know how to do. Thank you. I’m meat in their hands, but let’s get on with it.
I love humanity don’t you? I cannot profound things to the very cosa itself, what we’re doin’ here and why. I can tell you how wide it is, but I cannot big get there. We’re on a spaceship you know. Glidin’ through Earth are cosmic agencies, and there is bigger than that. Do you know the Alone fronts your face? Try that mystery. It’s apart from everything all things is. I alone with that sometimes. You can feel its breath upon your shoulders, but why are we here? Because it is we are. That’s all I can tell yah. We are its strings to pull existence along that it opens nothingness with. I get enough sustenance from that thought to satisfy my cravings for being.
And every one of us is like that: me I’m an alligator eating nothingness alive. That’s personal. Have I given you the spoon yet? Can you take existence by the hand and bake it to where it means somethin’? Can you eat off my words? To bring their items home, I have that job with customers. I match them with their price. Give me a minute. I’ll get better at this job, like you will improve my see. I can’t talk to you general public. You’ve blocked me out. A poet and his public, is there a ringer there? Is there even a price? All the old gatekeepers apply. They will not let you do it anywhere else, be a public poet. You have to be gateway approved. Even the reader readin’ this will not poet it in his box if it’s not found poetry on an official poetry channel. We’re squirrels that way. We’re herd sour, and I can’t get out of this pen. Fine, I’ll tell you again.
Everything has eyes. Can you live there? Can you feel humanity’s heat like it’s your own baked bread? Can you see your dog’s as person as you, minus the grasp with the hands the grasp in thought, and you love those creatures? I’m stoppin’ eatin’ meat. I just can’t take it, all those little lives snuffed out to arrive on my table after untold suffering. I feel the meat I eat, and it’s paradise here in America, a meat lover’s paradise. We just don’t know what hurts. I’m not a fanatic about it. I’ll just get that conscious diet, not freak out if I eat an animal a time or two, feelin’ its life. Can you get there, laid back about it all, not offended by anything? You’re just lookin’ at yourself studyin’ your every day to be a better me in it, to develop yourself to answer God’s prayers. That’s the price of livin’ if you want to know. That’s what we all take on. That’s what we all live to Earth is better this planet right now. You feel me dog?
Then change my name. Change your body. That’s not it. Good morning. Dirty-Purdy, you gonna pay it or what? It has eyes. It’s a snake in the grass, but it’ll kiss your feet. You can’t run it down. You can only be with it like you mean it. Hello Robin Hood. Attention Walmart shoppers, a lot of money behind the fence. Freshness just comin’ in, you gonna pay for it. Let’s slice out at the top all those profits. Can you give me some of that honey please— employee. You got your standard dome, makin’ money. You, what I can do to call you on it. I get on it great balls of fire, my own imitation of this land’s for you, “This Land Is Your Land”, and I’m talkin’ to the people you understand availability wrote.
Make you think the machine actually makes you an associate. Don’t read anything where you can set them straight. Poemless to get you money. Marriage attorney, I’m down the road a bit, the ultimate customer you’ll have to face no matter what, and we are really cozy in here under the counter, the public and the corporate string rackets. They’re doin’ just some stupid money launderin’. Even the public can tie better shoes. Corporate all the crap you lay on us, get some money that’s what happens today’s date. Tomorrow you will meet the world and don’t just take from it. “The Advice Capitalism”, one link leads to another.
I’ve got your pants down, but I’m not gonna spit on yah. We need better from you. Don’t say that you don’t understand and know that fully. Walmart you piece of cake in the cash register. I want a better job from you. To me, I can return a couple of those. That Sherry Dennis, you got a gripe about her, rude, mean, and on her pantyhose. I think we’ve got a stereotype. It’s that checkout lady on the counter. She’s found her roost and is a hen in a pecking order she rubs your nose in. What do you do about her? Corporate can’t understand it. It doesn’t make you wanna work there. They’re baskin’ in power, years at the register, and you’re dealing with social hierarchy in a hen peck, and that hen don’t have ears or a social conscience. So you don’t get away with nothin’ in your goodwill towards her. Why would that offend you if goodwill’s all you got? You see the test lamb. You have to always be on your toes to balance sacrifice with the right thing to do and let bygones be bygones and start each day anew. Whew, that was hard.
Listenin’ to freeways, I’m takin’ holes by the horns and sayin’ come on some, I want to fill you with awareness. I can’t believe it. We're just markin’ time here killin’ things. Look inside yourself and see you carry the world. I cried at a poster rat. Said he was 17 and missin’. He looked so on himself and purdy, so sweet and mean, so teenager in his prime. Did somebody get their hands around that throat and take the world from him? You dirty rat. The poster never lets you know. That’s all folks. I’d like to talk to you guys. And when you lay it out, in whispers, find our bottoms will yah? There, we’ve reached the sky safe and sound. You know who makes it out alive? The target.
I’d like to build a church. I’d like to build a bridge. Make for soldiers who just can’t take it anymore. Get it done in springtime. Get it done right now, wonderful fields of dream. You’re authorized don’t be a dick, carry everybody to the woodshed, and you don’t bang them there. You are nice, soft, and warm. You muse be. You are a string holding existence together. You are more jolly than that. You are yourself beyond time. Don’t bite into the dirt. You need to look good to the end of the line.
That’s the story. That’s our wellbeing on earth, ever a handmaid to little tigers, and we give all those animals love. Talk to me about it. I know the price of the gun. It’s ever on my mind the harm I’ve done. That’s a nice cat. Thank you, I bought it myself. The Earth has it in its storybook. It’s held meaning Earth. I’m championing children you know. What would we do if we were good and kind to them, soft and warm? Revolutionize society and be big sisters to everyone. Well, what are you waitin’ for?
God dog you could be nice Donald Trump. Everybody, Trump's bad, not a kind character. I just sign up for what I see. The paint of the Mother race God. I ask Luna. Of course, a story to be me all the way to couch potato. That’s the kind dog, lovin’ everybody. Beautiful she wrote.
Yeah I know: am I too excited? (the sound of my phone telling me a message has arrived) A poem I wrote, I’m dealin’ a lot of shit. I’m dealing with a lot of good looking manners. There’s a large turnover. Whoever read this book, good afternoon.
The doorway it’s small, that doorway to land on Earth. Gonna get the team leader God watching, and we will bank a new Earth. Right dog? Nothing from Islamic State. All over their hardware, oh me, my outlawed poem-video “Rainbow as a Radical with Islamic State”. It got me in the hospital every week making it, stomach attack city. Now die Venezuela. Invite you to dinner and eat you, America is that you? Fine, put ‘em in the basket. Next Greenland. Go and help them get out of danger you fine Nazi hunters. Freshness company, can we stand up and be counted? Are you excited to get Trump out? Walmart goes through the store in trepidation glee on the shores of eternity.
Sharin’ and US History, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. When were gone astray, oh tidings of comfort and joy. [sing this and above line, the Christmas carol] You could only go so far. An evil lits the bar. [sing this and above line] Watch on the pitch. A crooked umpire is prepared on you, support dragons. Tackle every notion of self-righteousness. You must do this watchin’ yourself. In this imperium no hands unnoticed. You sing her the Gemini has given her an eye. And we hear from the divine about me. After canned goods I got you pretty good. What is it if you can’t see? You would not be uncomfortable with unkindness.
Springtime is a soul’s regard. You just like a historic book? I’m writin’ history on the parallel lines, what we gotta give up for good to conquer, the whole landmass of selfish, of hey everybody I’m mean, of I’m satisfied with my lower type, of let’s put Earth first in a bottle and hide it from time. Can you grasp a greater day?
Unhand that king. He’s not about to rule the world. He can’t rule himself straight. Let the lunch he’s ordered eat him alive, all that rope he hung himself with, if he insists on bein’ mean. You hear me Trump? Havin’ a good time support dictator. View history’s log. We thought we were free— German patriotic people in Hitler’s time. Do you know what’s goin’ on? You are fooled by your own vulgarity in how you treat people and axe them inside. Trump does just what you do on a grand scale. So did Hitler. You just got more constraints. Make Jews and a police to punish them with, that’s immigrants with a darker skin and ICE.
Do I need to put the list on board? You’re not gonna see it anyway. Undocument yourself from meanness, pettiness vice. Can you know the meaning of love? I think we all pay that price. Don’t you feel it? And the list goes on, all that I see in springtime. All comes out in springtime the soul carries forth. It’s not a rotten tomata. I’m sittin’ there now. Great Scott! I’m embarrassing to say I love you, you purdy balance of soul.
Will you come along with me? We have a nation to save. Aren’t you gonna help? We need your input right now in your candy maker, givin’ love to everybody where your thoughts ride Earth. Impossible it seems if at first they’ve hurt you, but that’s the standard of the universe, love. You just haven’t found it yet the crabapple is so strong. Am I right city? Of course you love. I’m goin’ that way right off the roof. In every answer could you see that it’s a blast off into the sky every direction love.
You do an application first of the love down home in your garden, what you feel for your kids, cats and puppy dogs. You’d stop laughin’ then at the way I hold my mouth sayin’ all you need is love, love everybody right now, some 60s sentiment. When you hold your children you hold the world, and can you come on earth and see that? Can you hold down Earth and see that?
The subtle ends of the world put us all together like we are one person, and we certainly are. He don’t brush his teeth. He sure does, inside your every move. What are you lookin’ at, the mess we’ve made? I’ll definitely stay here, all our mornings in springtime, to see the soul in action and hear it write a poem, and all that one soul we are, divided up into springtimes, and there I’ve spoken mine.
That’s walkway center. The appetite is love. Get a load of a great day. I’ll just have to break it down into a different register than yours that keeps the same coins. Oh field toss, what have you, I have a way with the strings to cast you my day, things I’ve touched you to understand poetry. It’s hands down a better world. Sure can baby, we can love one another. That will touch the sky. Just open it up. Be alarm— all you have to do is want it. While you’re doing that, marry it with Heaven. Then he knows where God on earth that angel sings.
“Oh My Look at that Ole Dog” by the author. Luna on Fort Myers Beach. She made it.
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
Congress can come to my bank. I have ideas representational spiraling towards the universe. I can show you yourself, your muffin. I’m not in a handbag. I’m not parkin’ cars. I look at the world and smile, because I know its price. It’s huge big, but I don’t get lost in it. I see the telltale signs of behind. I can gauge the world through there. The Spirit has the show. Behind the world does.
It’s not communicable. You can’t see it with normal eyes that see vision. It’s not in your visual field. It’s nowhere apparent. How do I know it’s there? I can descry it in spiritual vision. I see the substance of things. I know that huge engines lie in the fabric of the wood. I can see the frontal of things land on it.
I’m a thought proper. Pregnant I stand and sing, and I offend people doing so. It’s cost me my livelihood. I got fired. I’m in trouble today. I see it in spiritual vision. All around me there’s trees involved with my pen. I’ve really written some things alarming to the public. They shoulder my hero. They’re here and there.
Mainly what I show you is how to change from one thing into another, from a blind man into one who sees. I show you how to bring good out of bad, how to change your very nature. Poem after poem has landed on the world’s docket. I don’t get known there. Do you know the price of change? It sits on your life extractin’ good. It’s costly. You have to pay in sacrifice. The world takes its toll. People are very small about it. Forgiveness and understanding, no one gives them to yah. You will be persecuted for good, even if your sins aren’t listed to the world, to the people in front of you.
You make power uneasy. They can’t believe you’re there. The people that hold the world in its little stations mostly are mean and jewel, and it’s fake jewelry. They’re petty people. They have an arm on society that robs it of its worth, but they will tell you differently. We’re used to this, the hypocrisy at the top. It’s all for show, but here I’m gettin’ in those little wears, like a community organizer or some little boss.
Where do you find good that’s good to everyone, equal pay even to the riffraff? Is there a worldwide heart there? Is there someone that embraces humanity, has goodwill at all times, treats people kindly even if they’re homeless and destitute, sacrifices for people not worthy of it, loves them too?
I’m not talkin’ about the perfect man or woman. I mean they really try to treats others as themselves, regardless of the other. They’re fair people to everyone. It’s me, it’s me you say. Glad to meet yah. Continue readin’.
You threaten people then, challenge their sense of self, will be very unwelcome at their parties by your own sense of self. You can’t shoot the breeze and not feel the weight of other people and their meaningfulness to you. You’re flabbergasted by it. It’s not a little show. You examine yourself continually for false pride and vanity, for things that don’t match love, and when people hurt you, you feel that sting, but you try to get your head around their price. You study the world and their place in it to see what world needs arise. If you act, it’s not with malice. Empathizing with them you understand they need a reckoning. Their world play has gotten too far in selfish ends. They harm.
Are you there my friend in being good even when it hurts, in bein’ inside yourself an open vessel to feel other people? Is that person in front of you the weight of the world? Do you take delight in dogs, and can you feel a tree there the livingness of everything? Do you laugh with the wind filled with the caprice of its consciousness, identifying even with the forces of nature? There’s more of being then being shows, and we’ve come to the invisible, but would we find you there identifying with the wind and sea? Great Scott! you’re a tall human being.
The organic meanness of the machine, that’s not your pride. You’re a tall order. You do penance for people. You never leave someone out in the cold. You’re understanding and kind, forceful when you have to be, but not mean and cruel. You are so on yourself to set things right. Can I get across to you your underwear? You have left lust behind. It’s not what you do eat people. The roles of sex are no longer in your play. You’ve matured out of that.
How can I count this? It’s my livin’ mood. It’s my every day. This is the price you pay for love, and you’re not ready for it I know, the death of your own genital squeeze play, but we can still have children. Youth gives birth to our young, old enough to know the consequences and take on that responsibility where society thinks, where society helps them grow where society grows. We are no longer individuals on our own, and we get along with each other. Individuals have room to grow and be themselves, the freedom of their nature that lets society grow.
I’m a social revolutionary. I see the beyond, and I carry my dogs there. The world for me is paper thin. I see the behind, and I love it there. My dog just messed. Did you see that? Can a poet have a sense of humor? No, I don’t like butts and smelly asses. I’m walkin’ on miracles, this world set in place, all its motion, a storybook Earth.
I’m tryin’ to tell yah the price of the world in seeing, how you handle the world in moments of gloom, in cries of despair. You look up into your largeness. You look out there into your springtime. You handle the world as it eats you, but you’re too much for the world, and so it spits you out, and you stare at it an equal integer. It can’t get at you in your lists.
We are a bubble inside an immensity beyond time, tiny as the wind blows, a drop in an ocean of continuous being. We are one aggrandizing look in everybody’s lookingness. Worlds upon worlds tell this show. All-Containing seeing rides us all. We are a looking glass into infinity, and we only see ourselves on finite Earth. Ever being grows to its larger glass, and can you count that?
I’m on the high seas of the bottomless lookingness. I see larger being than ours messing with us, setting us straight, and I can see bigger than them beyond this universe of stars into the larger looking glass that encompasses ours. I’ve sat up there once looking down on Earth. Miracle on miracle bridges who we are, who put us into this play, the larger than time’s being we are. So many seconds started this show, a poet here in your lap singin’ the ends of time, singin’ for all its worth.
I’m bangin’ on time. I’m giving extra credit. I know the hunt in time. It’s bigger than stars. I can grapple the world there, just this old codger who walks his dog and means nothin’ to nobody savin’ a few. It’s a laugh really, the breath of my vision and how little you see me. I’m showin’ you inside. These are the concepts of my thoughts. These are the concepts of my dreams. I habitat these thoughts all day. Lookin’ at the world through a dog’s eyes, I can gather life. It’s insane really I’m not the one insane.
Let’s go back to lunch, shall we, that the stars in the sky tell us we’re wrong. There are bigger fields than Earth, and I’m countin’ stars in my diary and know there’s beyond them. I know you’re safe, even if you get tarred and feathered, crucified on some cross. Nothing can touch the Spirit. The soul is free from everything, and it laughs that gentle laughs that knows the score, but is sure hurts down here doesn’t it, to be a beggar at time’s gates just wantin’ to be loved?
That’s the shit of it, and the soul takes these shocks and turns them into gold, but we suffer the because of it because we are flesh here not soul. The soul is deep. The soul is long, and it might let you get killed before it shows itself, and what poor bugger can take comfort in soul when his trials and tribulations are happenin’? This is the juxtaposition do Earth we bury here, where we mean something to each other. It’s a lamp unto our feet, ain’t it?
I show you the price of a laugh. Let’s make this work. The price of a fall, that’s too expensive for us. We are here on Planet Earth wantin’ to survive. Will it happen? It’s certainly meant to. We have to get out of our kingpin. We have to get out of our nursery. We tarry there. We rob there. We’re stadium laughter. Do you know how many eyes see us? Do you know how many eyes care?
Let’s get this down to a science, hey, everybody’s a hero on Planet Earth. You can do it I know you can, be there bigger than the world. Are you just gonna stand there and do it, practice burnin’ people? Will you see my face? I didn’t get away with it. I shoulder more than society’s prison. I shoulder the pain of the world. Unhand me I’m free? No, I’m not enlightened. Good luck, that’s in my hand, and I may reach freedom yet. Is that the answer to tomorrow? Yes and soul release. We interrupt this broadcast, and it looks like we broadcast now.
Everything bad happens, not everything good. Do we just spit at each other? I’ve got radio silence. You might kill your mistakes. Look at this. Why would you want me silent? Maybe tomorrow lip service you’ll give. They’re not hiring. I want to go to Mound Key. I just put a belt on and I make that hirin’ the world. Where is my pay? I warned you. Oh look, the hammer, it will get all over your fur. Men home it’s comin’. Everyone, I’ve got a tale to tell, and it shows.
Well it’s time to go to sleep. A poem has not made you ready. (vision of Grace Beagle sitting pretty and looking at me like in a life-size picture frame, two or three poses) Taking a picture, you know how dogs to that. Keepin’ your fingers crossed, we’ll get them here too, Grace and Hannah and Bruno. Now be off with you. I got a train to catch. That ole boy put his foot on the pedal and headed towards them yards. We are not in hospital beds.
Grace and Hannah, photo by DouglasBruno, photo by the author
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
Look at the homeless with binoculars. Our individual freedom doesn’t extend that far in the thousand mile kingdom. No homeless please. We’re all fruitcakes. Be crazy live a crazy day, tantalizing. We are moored in individual freedom everywhere our commercials reach. They key of the individual has been locked in some drawer. Look at it. Conformity in obedience is every sign.
Conformance and mobility, is that a high-rise condominium? We live in nation great. Has anybody seen it? It’s a melting house of the wrong ideas. It’s a house of conformity livin’ in big beds. Try to bring four dogs to town, and you’re out the door. Can the people that make such decisions respect you?
What are we doing here? Everything makes money or is about the same. We don’t live in a society of free people. We think politics rules the day. It’s each other we rule with our dumb attitudes of you’re not my type or you don’t do that right.
Let’s all be mean to everybody when we have the power to do so. Who wears a social mask when you’re a hero championing all the distain? I can be mean to you because social hierarchy is everything in the land of the free.
What’s up? Have we sold our souls for product? Look at the shelves. The comfortable eating world of me, my God it’s big. The availability of product has destroyed the world, but I put America first in my prayers, and I get fat doin’ it.
Now it’s the Gulf of Mexico bein’ drained out in America’s name. We are proud people, and we stick our nose up at a fall. We don’t know there’s a fall. Just ask an immigrant, illegal if they’re non-white, legal or not. They know a reckoning. How are they not human beings? They know the price of a fall.
Can we discuss national boundaries? How are we managin’ this, without constraint? The people that sleep in the same trees as me my country ’tis of thee? Open borders haunt us all, but are borders and hatred the same thing? I’m ICE lookin’ down its long list to expel people: let’s get rid of vermin will yah? Is that the land of the free and the home of the brave?
Salute the flag again. Everybody’s doin’ it, and here comes Trump, an underdeveloped character from our minions, who does not have love for his neighbor, has taken the golden rule and shove it up your ass, hates even his constituents if they’re not about his name.
Where is God? He is not in Trump’s eyes. He won’t fit there. The justice of God is concerned with the Earth, sacrifices for the love of mankind, loves the just and the unjust, let’s his rains benefit everybody, is an ambulance carrying people to righteousness.
America puts God first? Let’s send everybody to hell who hasn’t got the formula right worship Jesus or die. Now that’s love for all eternity, no forgiveness ever, and you are suffering the worst hell imaginable. Found your nation on this religion, make this your idea of God, his final character, and you don’t have a nation love your brother let me tell yah.
Now give Trump the power of God, that carte blanche you’ve given him, and make him mean you. Trump is not there in the love of your life. He’s a dangerous will armed with time. Where do you see Christ? Where do you see the love of man? What is his dollar statement? Every head and every hands making that the chief concern. Right on the beach put this hood on yah: you’re makin’ money off of sunbathers; you’re makin’ money off of fences; call this the American way.
The mess we’re all in, have you found it yet? Would you look for it if you could? Are you just blind to the peripherals? Would you love your brother if you could, whoever that is? That’s not giving them a dollar to eat. You’re giving every man, woman, and child on the Earth we inhabit, in our togetherness, the helpful goodwill we need to see each other correctly.
And America, the most powerful nation on earth, can you lead us all to goodwill and be an example of sacrifice? Never mind defending your borders; you have that genuine need, but can we get grace to policy your movements?
There, my God I poet. Do you hear me? And found peace a few times before the profound peace. I’m lookin’ for it now. I have an appointment with destiny. It’s just my own personal flavor on things, a poet in the halls of America let’s be good shall we? I didn’t cut my teeth on it, and boy have I been a sinner, but goodness is my way to meet the world because I’ve learned the price of love.
Can I give you that honor? Let’s swim on the beach and never harm anyone, even in the throes of thought. Let’s pick up ourselves and cherish one another. I’m rootin’ for you in this sundown meditation. Do you hear the beach?
photo by me of one of my only real friends on the island
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
I’m telling you the birds and the bees. It’s way over your head? Come on now slow down and read. This is the biggest thing on earth where we whip up ourselves. I’ve revealed the times, any way you look at them. See that dog standin’ there? It’s the same for him. Now let this poem unfold before your eyes a poet where you’re sittin’.
All about bears and livid nature just feed the worm. They just didn’t do it right, be themselves in a public crowd. An exaggerated sense of self led them through the day. This is the human worm. I think this plagues everybody. It’s baseline bein’ human, when we encounter each other. I am so big in my eyes. I need to show this to people. I have to feel good about myself and expose my difference. I am just one in a crowd, and that hurts.
A social hierarchy makes everybody sting and just messes up bein’ human. Everyone is just falling all over themselves to be an item. Your boss said no. Now, what’s at fault here? Everybody’s just bein’ human. Let me give you a hug. I’ve just arrived on the scene, and I think we met once, and I have to show this scene my Jesus imitation mi corazón, or I just sit back and judge everybody pretendin’ to be bigger than everybody else with my debonair, so they see I’m the one important here.
Can you stop? Nobody can. These are the facts of life. I’m a hole in one. I see everything as the center of me. My senses place me dead center. I hear everything inside confirm that. I feel it on my skin, and you can be my child, and I am not your senses to you, and your inner life is dead to me. I don’t hear a thing. I infer. I gather. I learn to empathize. I don’t know where you’re at as you see me. My world is so big you understand, your world pressin’ in on me. I’ve got to show yah I’m worth.
Here’s the deal. You don’t believe me, unlessin’ we mean for each other. There are just too many of us to care about them others. This is such an exaggerated posture, however much noise we make to show our worth. We feel ourselves so deeply. We are ever-present with ourselves, and we want so to be liked and loved, not made to feel bad about who we are. Oh man please listen to me. We each and everyone of us hurt so because we’re ridin’ the world right upon its seat, legitimately the peddlers of existence, wind in our hair, fire under our tires, and not a person sees that but us.
Oh my God that hurts. It’s downright mean to arrange a world bottle this way. Is it a Creator laugh? We’re so on ourselves, little children at the handlebars, peddlin’ for all it’s worth. Who can blame us for bein’ mean? Now you know that’s not right, and God is not a son of a bitch. We’re workin’ out a plan too big for us to see. We have to take the impossible and pump it on our bikes, not live in a storm of I am the you, the me.
We have to do this ourselves, realize every Dick and Jane is the center of ourself too, and they feel the world out there the central event in it, just like everyone of us does to our existential eyes. Oh my God all life fits there. Oh my God all the world fits there.
Can you see the change in identity? There you are identifying with everything. Now you can still get your work done, but with radically changed hands and thought process, and your heart beats in everyone’s so that you can feel them like yourself. Even if you fumble this someone really does you in, you climb back up there because it’s how you see.
Now am I livin’ wart? I have the apple in my hand. I’ve explained to you humanity, right there in social dice. I’m the cows come home, and I’m different you see? I’m posturin’ so you’ll give me worth. Is it all a game? Do we just bury our heads in sand dunes we are so embarrassing on each other? Oh no sweet brother, sweet sister, puppy dog, pussy cat, we are so much more than tumultuous sees. We are bigger than stars, just immature infants that’s all to how fucking big everything is and meaningful. We have a role to play in an unimaginable creation’s purpose, these little animals that we are, but we grow up you see.
I’m speakin’ from that tall noon far off in a shimmering distance. Inevitable we arrive. A chrysalises our dumb selves, and we’re just waitin’ on that greater light to open us, and this poem has eyes on that light. Is that okay? You sent me the email to shut up. I’m sorry I can’t. It’s what makes me tick, right here: see that me there? I’m lookin’ at the world poet my number. His editorial number God central that’s you.
I have to have a storm to peddle in emergencies, passage mean, this business of losing my job. A cute muffin is my horticulture, a grassroots revealing poem. Now think on this. What’s so weird this is Candid Camera. We’re bein’ caught in ourselves, because as luck would have it we are the One lookin’ out at the world through everyone’s eyes.
We get caught in ourselves seein’ that, and there’s a host of pile-ons. We’re creation’s niggers, little hapless animals breastfeeding on life, not knowin’ who we are, not knowin’ where we came from. We’re a little window on time, unaware of the All inside. It’s spurs us on. It gives us courage. It’s not bound by time or even existence. We are there you see in the front of ourselves too close to see.
What a Hollywood. It’s wonderful really, and validates all our notions of look important me. To discover that in yourselves you would have to remove the Earth from view, see brighter than stars. Can you do that? That will be the day you will count forever as the starting of your see. You would’ve seen Earth laid bare in all of its miracle. In several seconds sums it up for me. I’m seein’ all those pile-ons a poet describin’ time. Is that so bad? A referee man, I’m tellin’ yah how the cow ate the cabbage. Am I invited to dinner?
The most precious thing on earth, your dog loves you so, and you can treat ‘im like a dog, piss all over him with your human control, shock the shit out of him with that play-button shock collar, and he’ll lick your hand and throw away all his pride at your feet. Now how do we help that dog? It's not abuse you get arrested for, but you don't wanna look at it. There’s better hours his master can spend with him. Well I found out theys do me dog here too. Comin’ in didn’t see that. I thought I was a pedigree dog. (The sound of laughter) He gets embarrassed and shy we share identity. Get that puppy so much better than scoldin’s. Honor that dog.
This is one of the poems that got me fired from my job at the Greater Fort Myers Beach Chamber of Commerce, the main one, or the last poetic straw, however you want to look at it, but I wasn’t aware people here were going to my personal blog and getting offended until after posting this one. The president, who fired me, told Douglas, who also works there, that board members and others were sending her excerpts of things I’d “penned”, claiming I was making fun of them.
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
The captive adult, I’m not that bad. Dated immigrant, 21 years in India, and I didn’t have a form to fill out, and they called me illegal. Are you kiddin’ me? Human beings are wrong, nasty, and evil, if they’ve overstayed their visa. Everybody says so. Look at Trump.
I’ve got a million dollars. I’ve got hair in my ICE, and my hair in on fire lookin’ at the human being. I judge is my luxury. I’m not as tall as I am, and I get downright small on the issues group think.
Now murder me some, the I now the poet, who can say I to anyone. Okay we’ve called down Congress, hopin to find some expediency to keep tyranny from happenin’. I mean we’ve wrote a poem, maybe several, that ask government to be government and not make us bow down to nationalism and be a dictator over our lives.
No British government can force the crown on us. We are all we are in the halls of independence, and everybody who signed the paper put their lives on the line. Protest is useless. Give a government what it wants, total dominion, you stupid s.o.b. Let it take over Auroville and rule with an iron fist and remove the international scene if the people resist.
To point this out to people, to use poetry to stop it. Now let’s get on with it, movin’ Heaven and Earth to get our dogs. No, no, no, you can’t do that, ask the community for help, the man at large, the woman with the telephone. Get second jobs you fools and pay for your dogs yourself.
You selfish points of contact with the society in the bag. You are supposed to work, work, work and create no art, write no poetry, or go on your little round abouts and discover the community. You are of no value to us as a society, and you cannot ask for a thing. Asking the community for help with your dogs, you’re throwin’ pies in our face. Get your act together and stop asking people for help. So many millionaires on this island, and please don’t bother them. They’re makin’ money.
I think we’d need to ask the millionaire. We find some kind, nice, and warm, open to humanity, especially dog lovers, and we’ve gotten a lot of help. Thank you. But the thing most profound in all this mess, in all this criticism, concerns our way of life. We are digging a well into the meaning of life, and every decision is based on that. We live our lives to a spiritual plan and put that first. It’s not lip service. It’s the reality of our lives.
Even our dreams we hone in on God and seek to find the higher consciousness. We do not base our lives on survival, making money, or anything of the sort. We are not here to have a good time. The consequences of that are huge. We get attacked constantly. Jesus died on the cross, and you think it was for sin? Poor bugger got caught openin’ up God inside himself.
What’s this I say? Jesus was on a tree, castigated and torn, murdered, because he showed men how to change their lives in spiritual substance. He gave men and women a way to be free by breaking the bonds of consciousness and being born again into the higher type, and you think it’s a wish-wash hangin’ on a prayer, and you’re clean and good, religious for the rest of your life? A radical transformation of our whole life Jesus envisioned. Now shoot me for saying that he did not die for our sins.
So anybody we’re up against, as we try to change, base our life on this mountain, is either put off or keeps us at a distance. Few come inside our home or invite us to socialize. We are too weird for TV. I think you’d find us warm and very human to be with. We know you’re God starin’ back at us, a startling revelation we challenge ourselves with every day.
Now kick us and be mean to us because we are different from you, and you need validation that only your life is true. Have I said enough? I’m on time I think to be Who I am, a man in search of himself that his divinity timeshare wears, a man tryin’ to change in his higher type, and I’m doin’ that in normal life. I got kicked out of India.
Now say I keep my nose to the grindstone, work a 40 hour week, pay my bills, keep my mind to myself, unless someone asks— I’m talkin’ about at work. Can I be in America and do that, or is conformity the rule of the day now, and if I don’t conform I’m fired, lose my home? Will I be chased off this island for poetry like I was India?
Do you understand what’s your doin’? There’s a radical change of consciousness ahead, how we evolve out of this mess. There’s a new society of ourselves waitin’ to be born. There’s human survival in the balance. Let’s huff and puff and blow it down because we cannot tolerate change out of our satisfied little lives, and these two beggars, Don and Doug, we need them to straighten up and be just like us.
Now all you good people, can you get your head around that? Can you please? “Douglas at the Watering Hole”, another joy for understanding. It’s so true yes. All the whiles are looking at me. You raise your hands among yourselves. Why should I be any different? Another two weeks before bylaws are stated. A bunch of people, a bunch of people on this island support, are lookin’ at this way: I approach the bench, and there are good vibes there.
You’re on dissidence you’re on daily bread, you just take a deep breath and keep on goin’, confirmation code casting problems away from your human beings and comin’ to yourself for the love of man. Are there any other spring rolls? An island bright in sunshine, and all those puppy dogs— the love of animals too. Well they’re on our diet. Would if they’re off in time for us to renew the Earth? Yeah I know. I got a ways to go, but our dogs are our children, and I don’t eat those.
For the love of dog, they’re honored guests on our island too, and who are we but guests on bright and shiny seashores the power of Nature rules? What causes earthquakes? Well, we might have something to do with them greed takes the shore, if we honor our pocketbooks more. Help was health insurance, but would the Calusa listen? There are no more creeds for the Calusa to close. It was 30 miles an hour, their hunting season, who put other peoples out. I pointed it out. Pointed it out wind, we do it, no socioeconomic class below the poverty level.
It’s easy for me to say. I just got here. And they’re real deep in there so be good to them Harbor Island. Ed the reason an algebra drive, if you wanna get past your schoolbooks. We are representative creatures ourselves hook, line, and sinker. An actor plays a part, you and me, and you don’t save your soul. Your soul you find it and rise above yourself to Who you represent in time. Find Yourself to believe in. That’s good news and that One is all of us, islands and dogs included.
Now believe in hell as a preferable option for most people, and you really need to examine yourself, don’t you think? I’m just talkin’ islands. Now you hear them speak. Rise power to Nature, or we’re not gonna make it. Will you listen?
Well legalized in a fiery seal, we’ve moved mountains on Fort Myers Beach to get in there. Would you welcome please Doug and Donny and let them have their dogs and spiritual life? I need to put poems on it, this startup page. Rock me gently, rock me slowly (sing to Rock Me Gently by Andy Kim) for the love of the island. It touches yah you know and helps people along like us. Thank you island.
Come on Jim, we’re just here for a little while. We’re off to the mountains in springtime. Not now. When we put our time in on the island. Meaning we are open to the island. Can you gauge that? Just let it be.
There’s somethin’ Earth husband, but can we be accepted not being gay doing it? We don’t have to be gay, do we, to be two husbands and a wife? We’re celibate you know, but we don’t live inside an egg. I don’t like it. You guys are doin’ great. Good riddens. Well we’ve heard from the crowd. It’s nice to be accepted, ain’t it? We’re just a laboratory. I’m doin’ the laboratory. Could you stop threatenin’ to kick me out? I wuv you.
I suppose you can read the writings after the fall, but I was really hopin’ humanity wouldn’t fall. Is there anybody out there? We don’t have to fall. Now I’ve taken on the voice of the world, but who believes you can get that done? Now you know the spirit of Old St. Nick, and it shows by a red light. Build for sunlit paths the stadium of our Earth. Is that today’s date? I have found good shit to faith, but we’re at a watering hole, and we have no sense of each other. Love others as yourself, that’s precious to us now.
Sure, are you singing the song, or does your music just get drunk island hopper? Gimme, gimme, gimme the honky tonk blues. (sing to Honky Tonk Woman) Let the big sheet guests know that the grassroots can do it themselves, move Earth towards our up stand. Now gotta get to work. You have a great day.
Harm's End 