A Ripple

feature image by Donny, “Look the Ripple You Touch That Child” (Gimp, the perspectives of a photograph)

Gimmie that perfume.
Reach that perfume.
This is the other poem you were worried about.
We’ve aimed a camera 
so to expose the nigger.
For me,
it has nothing to do
with Black skin.
I opt it for something else,
the group of people who aren’t worth much,
the subhuman,
the scum of the Earth,
and I think we want them to do menial tasks,
where they bow down and kiss our knees.
The nigger among us,
wow that’s high society.
Hey world that’s me.
We call him a dog.

Wow, I’ve opened a page.
Well, I need to get my bells straight.
I wanna call you mean and complain?
That’s not the status wood.
I’ll hit yah right between the eyes.
You’re beautiful
plasmas of creation.
You fill the air
with the clamor of your being,
and don’t rock the boat.
You are nice
to most people.
You’d rather let your hair down.
You are not a shopping mall nightmare.
You open up to hope.
I think you make the world go round,
as we watch it human globe.
You really try
to have the right equipment.
I can’t say that you’re mean.
You’ll give a kid a cookie and an older person their ride.
You’ll have patience with people.
You’ll even call on God.
This is most among us.
I’m talking about the general type.
Some science God matters.

I’m talking to you now
about the role we play
when make a person a nigger.
Alright,
what do we hope to gain from them?
Their lynching.
Have you ever heard this with pedophiles?
You broadcast it on TV
as a precautionary tale to pedophiles:
let’s burn the nigger alive.
Great you said he stinks.
Suffer a pedophile to live,
I don’t think even granny wants that.
Horrible anthem we make.
Where do we put them in society?
In the trash bin.
Come on people see your sneeze.

Move! Move! Move!
You gotta get outta that chair. [vision of telling Nitish this to get him out of my computer chair so I can work, and he complies]
Equity’s base
does not mean stingy.
I just don’t wanna get lynched,
or any pedophile on the planet.
I don’t want to be your counting nigger.
I don’t want to grovel at your feet
for a bit of ice cream.
I want to be made to feel human
in my very bones
if I look at you and smile.
I don’t want to be handed around
your hatred centers.
I don’t want to be made to feel alone,
the only pedophile here,
don’t want to feel like it’s wrong
when I touch children,
and I’ve only tossed their hair,
and I’ve not destroyed them in the woods.
I don’t want you to see me with children,
and think I’ve put them on my lap for that reason,
to go underground for wood.
Can you see me and not think the Devil?

And what’s stopping you from that now?
You bleed me.
You won’t even let me speak.
How we solve pedophiles now,
it only kills them,
destroys their will:
they really wanna hurt children.
Now calm down.
I want you to understand this.
You’ve made a scapegoat mean.
They just want back at you.
They’ll do dirty to get it,
like a Palestinian on a suicide run,
or a Black man that drugs White women
to rape society
and tell you about it in jokes.
Unawares, you laugh and applaud.
He’s spit on your hamburger,
made you eat his shit
in a chocolate pie,
and she’s just the help.
Can you see reason?
Will you understand science
when it gets at the truth of things
in its operating method?

Now what’s the problem with niggers?
They could move you outta your place.
They could stand up and be counted.
They could be you’re not superior.
One forth of the town showed up
to integrate.
The rest came out with their shotguns.
All this beer I had
loaded that shotgun,
and beer is a symbol wear.
I think you have your own kids,
and you can’t see through disease.
Can we find the hatred of the pedophile on your son’s penis,
and he’s in the bathtub with you,
and it’s sticking up?
Do you wash it then?
What do you do with those feelins’
your daughter wears?
She’s reached in that soapy water and grabbed you,
the way that daughter’s do,
their age of reason ain’t there yet.
You wash hers then?

Know you have to clean those things.
Smile back at you
sometimes.
You feel a stir in yours?
The slight disease,
but you know it’s there.
Oh let’s put them to bed,
rub them on their humps,
and get all sticky,
the real bedtime story.
Singing them a song
goes like this:
I can control myself,
just,
but I’ll open it
with my spouse.
Did you leave something in that room,
on your kid’s soft body,
making love to your spouse?
Bedtime stories,
repeat and say them,
her crackerjacks,
and she’s five or ten.

I’m not sayin’ you’re a pedophile,
or you even fantasize for your children.
I’m talkin’ about the sticky mud
a parent’s hand encounters,
or their eyes,
and somehow their flesh responds
a hair’s worth,
around their child’s genitals.
I hate you pedophile.
You are there.
Can we get any better than that?
Where do we go with this?
Understand the pedophile’s not to blame
for your feelings.
Can you do that?

I’ve gone through the eye of the needle.
I don’t think you like me for it,
but we have to stop molesting children,
in our homes or by pedophiles,
as some parents do.
We come back to square one:
hatred don’t solve the problem;
hatred can’t solve the problem.
We have to see where disease come from
and stop it there.
As many pedophiles as there are,
and there are millions on this Earth,
a parent’s hand or their mouth or their genitals
made that pedophile feel theirs,
all the way to orgasm and beyond.
I don’t even think they know it.
Are we talkin’ before memories can form?
Something like that.
It’s early.
Can we call the other parent knowledge on this?
I think they didn’t know.

I’ve shown you the hooded instrument
where pedophiles come from
in the economy of a poem.
Parents are whistlers let’s say:
not only mommy and daddy.
Okay it was just hard wood,
no electrocution to speak of,
but you see the disease.
Turned five and it stopped.
That was the last time she humped my thing with her mouth.
It was in a beach shed,
the kind you go to change clothes.
She pulled my swimsuit off and I was awake.
I remember being concerned about the sand in her mouth.
It felt so good.
I could not believe I had forgotten
she used to do that.
It hurt her to do it.
She put a wall there
after that.
It never happened again.
Orgasm was wonderful,
and I wanted it more.
The pedophile is here
to tell you about it.
I’m sorry momma.
I understand you tried.

Oh wow this is strength,
not what you want to look at.
How to you make it go away?
You have to see the pedophile for what he is:
a creation of parental love
that lost control of itself.
Oh man that smarts.
Do you see what I’m comin’ to?
A nigger made in pedophile shoes.
Thank you mommy,
what I told her after she done it.
Get your head around that.
That,
that right there,
what you most don’t want to see.
My God it’s blind.
Take the pedophile and make a nigger outta him.
Don’t know what else to do.
Remind you of things,
suggest things,
you’d put monsters to.
They’re insanitory.
I’m here to show them to you
because you hate me,
will kill me if you could,
‘cause I am a sprite of you.
That’s the lowdown.
That’s the nigger we need to see.

Okay world I’m sorry.
We didn’t have to come to this,
but you’re intah whistle blowin’ and truth tellin’,
like you’re so immaculate clean.
You could LGBT+ me to death,
and love is love you understand,
like a passport,
get all hot and hairy about pronouns,
like you really care about different,
but I know that underneath it all
you’d snuff out my life if you could
for being different,
for love just as queer and real as yours,
for love that’s returned,
as you define love at least,
when it’s love the child gets
and not simply rape.
We just have to take out the sex part.

These are the things we need to see
to shore up hate,
get it out of the room.
When it is present in us,
and we haven’t seen it there
as a thing that hurts,
we can finally work on it;
we can do something about it.
It’s here,
where a pedophile stands on earth,
that you’ve brought hate to where it apex.
Here it is its zenith noon,
and this nigger is here to tell you
I’m gonna rock your boat.
I’m gonna…
I think kindness knows the answers.
Knowledge calls lines,
intricately connected with you.
I’m not meanin’ yah ill will.
I don’t wanna ruin your day.
I just wanna be heard and understood
to save my life.
Is that okay?

Come back.
Where you goin’?
Call me if there any problems.
Call me indeed if there are any.
I have the words.
That’s why I’m bothering. [spoken in Douglas’ voice]
I don’t think anybody’s prepared for it.
[audio vision of Bruno, our Doberman, barking his intruder alert bark]
I think lemon juice
put the message across,
with that one guy from sobbing.
It only came from that one guy.
Crack of noon,
lighten up.
This isn’t a manifesto to love children.
It’s not the pedophile’s I wanna have it
you gotta give it to me.
Let’s be clear on that.
I’m not asking that we have sex with children.
I’m tellin’ what the score is,
where we come from
and our place in society,
even if we don’t molest children,
the development
of who are you
to make monsters out of anyone,
to make of them your nigger.

The damage is done,
and you’ve flooded the world with it.
I’m here to saw off on that.
Well I wish I was very cold.
Luna.
The track time of time,
I want it where it’s good for me.
Your engine room,
may I present this?
Cash on delivery.
It’s not every dad.
He’s not understanding.
I’m talking about the swimming pool.
Not every child gives their dad a bath.
Come here.
Not everyone bathe with their children
in the wrong places,
or rub them hand down at night.
I’m talking about the square one
hate pedophile.
It comes from your fear of there’s a child sex,
and you might contact with it.
Their sexual feeling’s
a load on you
bright and early.
You know they have them.
If you’re a parent,
I think you know they do.

Does your bottle ever come up,
feelings on the inside you hardly acknowledge,
or one single isolated feeling
in a lifetime of intimacies with your kid?
Well that’s the thing, isn’t it?
That’s where the holocaust is
for pedophiles.
There’s where you hate them,
and of course you won’t acknowledge that.
Who am I tryin’ to kid?
I’ve done the needful.
If I could get each other
to be sincere with each other,
then the resources
would be handled.
Now you’ll just throw them away
and call me a nigger.

The few that help,
oh you are my sunshine.
Thanks.
Now to robbers,
marauders.
Simultaneously
you know I’m talkin’ to you
in this whole poem.
I revealed a little bit of what you know
about giving a kid pleasure.
I don’t know how to say this to you.
I understand both parties involved,
but a kid’s not to have sex with.
This does not good to them,
their development,
and development’s
their order of the day.
It makes them selfish,
puts holes in their reaching arms,
and spills them on themselves.
They will be strong in some things,
but you’ve done something to their social reach,
pitted them against society
with the secret they have to keep
and the fear they live with
society will find out.

You don’t know what to do
when you got this kid that enjoys sex
and wants not to stop.
I’m sorry this happens.
You got to figure it’s not what gets the disease
in the press
or the support groups.
I took some convincing.
If society finds us out,
that’s the problem,
but we’re not good here.
I’m eating on that child.
There are demons in the room.
That child’s getting splayed,
and they’re hungry for it,
and you’ve turned this on too early.
They’re not ready for that.
You’ve brought sex into their life,
and it’s time to play with society’s noon.
It’s time to representative play
for that feeling sex,
not to actually have it
in full-blown adult room.
They do that with each other not with you.
And society is just dumb here.
They don’t get their own time to play,
even with themselves.

Okay how do you stop?
You’re gonna have to fix this sorry yourself.
You good at rockin’ science,
just keep the posted in the light.
You’re a great Jew
to hombre cueva’s house,
if you get outta this disease.
(The Jews are good to society.)
I’m gonna need some help.
Look you can’t get any help.
It’s not allowed yet.
Book, your honor.
You know how to say no.
You know how to say no to the Light
and do that kid.
Can I get in here somehow?
It’s not one of our lake we’re tryin’ to keep,
but we can’t tell.
That would be the end of us.

In those doggie bowls
[vision of being seated at the computer and, Luna, on my right side, Hannah on the other, thrusting their heads, tongues hanging out, almost to the screen, they wanting petted, and I stopped and pet Luna first, wholeheartedly, on my way to Hannah, the petting session just starting]
strength to a boy.
Emergency to make real,
emergency South African.
Don’t lie to me.
I’m the humanity in the room.
You got this,
but if you touch there you don’t.
Sex ensures.
It’s like a graveyard.
It just gets all disturbed,
wham! rises from the dead.
Leave it alone.
Your looks should be tempered.
You know I’m talkin’ flesh.
You can handle this.
You can.
Once you fold a piece of paper,
it stays folded.
Once you drop the ice,
the ice melts.
Don’t pick it up.
It gets easier as you go along.
Alright let’s sing to ourself,
no images of the child in mind,
no images atall.
Then you’ll fall.
You’re handlin’ it,
continue.

Integrated animal care,
it fills the room.
You can see that now.
Faith will see you through,
but I’m sorry,
you can’t know God tomorrow.
You have to know quite awhile.
Most religions
aren’t helpers.
It’s a quick fix that melts in your mouth,
and the reins go back to that child.
Do you feel you own work on when you scream?
Well let’s continue.
Do will hold,
even to the rapper’s balls,
and tell that rapper to shut up.
(We can get better music.)
You just woke up
corrective mountain,
and it’s not the rapper yah want dead.
Give me a massage.
Oh,
let’s get over this hump,
no crack base potholes.
You see what I’m dyin’?
Now pick up your guitar and play
the right music,
wonderful skin feelings,
and you haven’t climate changed your hands.
I am right on yah.
The map flow determines lap.
He’s your lap,
and there’s nothing wrong with these free buildings.
Get on the miracle.
Isn’t it somethin’?
This is not a problem.
As he sits on it you know you’ve achieved holistic solution.
You’re showin’ the end of money,
and you give him the life force.
You’re awake inside,
just narrowin’ down fillin’ wood
with peppermint.
Keep it comin’ the kid says,
you’ve got some good candy.

That child’s in love with you
and wants to continue
the sexual shore.
Oh man it’s here
do you love that child or not.
That’s what it boils down to,
more than anything,
more than right or wrong,
more than the danger of discovery,
more than what you need.
Now take that love
and wipe your child’s brow with it.
You're gonna have to take that sex away,
and they have to know the reason,
but they have woken up
that part of themselves,
and now they have the need.
This has to be acknowledged.
They have opened it’s obvious
on the inside.
You’re tryin’ to pull ‘em
to safety.
They can drown with this.
They feel in their bodies so much.
To bring that same sex with ‘em
as a child.
So hard
to open the door,
legalize them.
They have to learn to please themselves,
without you doing it for them.
You have to unhand that thing,
and I don’t expect you to do it on my command,
but will you do it at all?
You’re in the supermarket,
and it’s there for free.
What can I tell you then?
How can I explain this to you?
How do I it get it across?

Ninety-nine cookies,
hurry up now.
You’ll soon have none.
Drove off
the ability to get it.
Think about it,
you really got a situation there.
It’s not secure.
At one point does it become too absurd to do?
That child gets older.
Society closes in.
Let your love arrange it,
and that child’s known sacrifice and constraint.
My mom showed me this.
She gave me this,
and how good it is.
You’ve made a better child
not a worse one now.
You have to opportunity to grow,
both you and that child.
Don’t they do something?
Love handles it.
They stay together
learning strength.
You are not eating anymore,
and you’re free on the inside,
and now you can
love that child.
Go for it,
under these conditions,
and that child knows he’s safe and hungry
to do it himself.
Captain,
congratulations.
You have really changed.
Welcome home.

How was it?
You want bread?
My love is straight.
Just sit,
and don’t try to handle me wrong.
I think I’ve heard you,
ten minutes ago.
You wanna order some shelves today?
Three a week or something.
You’re writing poems,
and before they get read they wear you.
Hey boy. [vision of pulling baby Mithrin by his shirt sleeve on his shoulder as he stood on the bed]
You have a lot to do,
so much home challenge,
of the domestic kind.
You’re a good daddy keep goin’ with kids grandpa.
You don’t bother them,
and they love you.
You’ve seen the disease,
and you’re a country person speaking.
You know how to handle it.
Well let’s get this show on the road,
this poem on the net and My love to you.
Study your answers,
bring them home to Me.
I’m waiting for enlightenment speaks.
Now do you hear
movin’ movin’ movin’,
keep them doggies movin’,
rawhide! [this and two above lines heard sung some lines ago, but I didn’t record them until now, sung by Frankie Laine, theme song to the TV show Rawhide]
I got the song.
Now it’s continue.
Wow, that’s three more grapes on the vine.
What a wonderful shelf you got.
I’m trained to.
We’re gonna be meditating the poems,
and that’s the story today,
read them.

It’s large and center free.
It’s not made up by groupings.
That’s down home in the hat.
That’s our business with humanity.
You know it on the inside.
Show it on the outside. [this and above line heard sung, by Aquilo, “Human”]
Wow, fight him down the street.
You know it works,
if you give everybody their daily bread,
if everybody gets fed.
I’m not about race cars.
Humanity comin’ together on itself gonna take a long time.
We start with today.
We get rid of racism
in its purist form:
down with the pedophile!
Bury him.
I think the future of humanity will have some new shoes.
You’re not gonna look so good in yours,
that whole antiracism brigade.
You left out the pedophile,
every single one of yah,
and that’s where racism’s allowed,
the only place we all agree on racism.
Your blindness is before your eyes today.
See somethin’:
here have a pedophile,
he’s a nigger.

Damn, I said it.
I said it loud and clear.
You know you had it comin’,
but I’m not ill will today.
What’s wrong with the world?
There was this other engine
that had the whole world attached to it,
and it was off in the darkness,
and no one could see it.
The discovery should’ve made headlines.
It’s just that Batman suffering
you’re clouded for.
We have party on the 21st,
11 a.m.
Cut it open,
a vault where my poems lay,
and I get shined with full of light,
but I’m havin’ trouble breathin’.
The vault’s got me by the head.
One of our supervisors,
one of the race officials,
they’re comin’.
I wanted them to come faster.
That’s all part of the game.
My discovery
could not ready for other projects.
Are you gonna die?
What’s so ethical about that map?
The sex with kid thing dies.
I’m afraid I’d have to find out.
How many times you seen us do something right?

We’ve got the creation speaks itself.
Like to use your tickets.
A granola bar,
you give that to people.
You’ll find hands with hard rocks in it
that sweep up their little files.
Oh today,
damn,
we have a busy table,
so emotionally balanced,
sound,
in a Friday.
My goodness, [vision of a tree in the cemetery next door so huge it took up the whole front part of it, its branches extending in a square-like network that filled the sky of the place, branches like a meter thick]
this is snow.
I’m mean it’s absolutely incredible.
Glimpse ability
apparent,
a lifetime
of handling children.
They can’t keep their hands off themselves.
They’re everywhere with it.
They’re involved in the bath.
This is simple street.
You don’t get it caught in your tongue.
There’s an arm way off.

Solid instructions.
You don’t leave out a note.
You address the child
in their backward movements.
The denial
of their active in it,
that is what’s there.
People need to see this.
You can bring my horse back.
I’m goin’ to sleep.
I’ll call yah in the morning.
Freefire,
4:30,
you editor,
at the end of the poem.
It may be underestimated. [vision of a very weird tree in the cemetery, its trucks forming configurations of squares and such, the branches meters thick]

What it said:
I have to turn on this mic internet.
We need something there.
We need your help.
Push this text like a principle player it is.
Learn with it.
We’ve got a lot to show yah
on ground [heard sung by Aquilo, “Human”]
and on the floor.
Hurtle,
enhance. [vision of a country bicycle shop on the Auroville main road, the forested section, and a sign in the front near the road that had a list of the work they do, these two things on the list sounding in my inner ear]
Reach something and write it down.
Try to make this pony ride.
[vision of a sort of very large, brownish red greeting card made to look like a small house or important building, but just the suggestion of that, it turning as I looked at it so it could be seen better]
World Heritage Site,
that’s what we reach with this.
It’s a continually interesting piece of balance.
Comin home
the leeway.
You have got this system starts.
Refresh it everyday.

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