Through the lens of the screen
we interpret reality.
This is how we get our gun.
It’s how we conduct business.
We die that way.
It’s a world in front of our face
that we miss,
we need to listen to.
What’s reality goin’ on around us?
It swallows the moon.

We’re just stale, happy, TVs in the room.
It jogs us.
It casts us aside.
We come to our computer to participate,
or put our cellphone between us and the world.
Does that make TV better?
We market our lives
sittin’ in front of a screen,
and it can be so tiny.
It’s not there you know.
You are.

We translate screens all day,
and we don’t know their rash.
It doesn’t solidify us.
We just get all choked up
on a reality ration card.
We think it excites us.
This does us in.
Get your notebook
and interpret reality with that.
Record your inner life.
Your outer life will still be there when you get back.
Those events jingle.
You can feel them with your hand.
They are real to you,
and they’re awesome.

They seem boring to you
because they step on the ordinary.
They have miracle all over them,
if you know how to look,
and do you know the world draws nigh to you when you do?
You see things
that are extraordinary,
synchronicities between thought and life
that you know somebody’s lookin’ at yah
the universe can’t hold.
These are certain stairs,
and you reach a height at noon
that reveals to you God.

You can’t see this on the screen.
It’s too confined in there.
It doesn’t have reality’s picture on it
that blankets you with stars.
It’s not where you’re at.
Oh you can move between thought and the screen
like you live there
all grown up.
You can ride lightning’s ways.
You can figure out the world
in the emptiness of its room.
You can sit and enjoy yourself.
You cannot hold hands with God.

I’m showin’ you this on TV,
and you just dyin’ to practice it in the real world, ain’t yah?
You want to see God.
You want to see thoughts larger than man.
I’m tellin’ yah they’re there
in the dry, material world.
I’ve picked up a book
and opened the pages of reality with it.
That’s my own damn TV,
where I sit in reality and wait
for the next full moon.

I sound good to your reason-sense,
but you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about.
It’s green there.
It’s got flexible and still on it,
and it’s a whole wide afternoon,
or a mornin’ that bakes bread in reality’s oven;
an evening there whispers to the stars.
You can’t get that look
onscreen.
It’s not tangible, real.
It tries to trouble you,
get you to play basketball
on digital courts.
You are mad at me no?

Let’s blame the room.
We don’t know how to put it right.
It just bleeds us
to make our reality all fucked up.
We have digitalized each other,
and this is worms.
We’re not even real people inside the machine.
We got lollipops on
we want other people to lick.
See me there?

Where does poetry go inside the machine?
It changes its meaning.
I’m starin’ at you now,
wonderin’ how many hits I get
singin’ in a dark tunnel.
Would you meet me there?
Would we get out of the machine?
I think we would find somewhere
to be humans again
not under computer programs
and not onscreen lives.

I do stay long
I do stay up here
in the companion of see.
My day’s because of it.
My time online are my thoughts
I’m tryin’ to have me killed for.
I’m not the only one
puttin’ you in touch with yourself
with my reality TV
Episode Donny.

We’ll say I was parkin’ and I saw a Muslim guy stare at me intently,
would you believe this is page one?
I’ve gotta get yah outta here.
So I turn the world upside down in your ideas,
act strange
with the written word.
Can you see me happy?
That’s most of my flower.
Now I’ll see where we’re at.
I’m not hatin’ anybody.
I’m lookin’ to end hate
so you won’t hate me.
That’s a noble enterprise.

Left the school
of bang your head against the wall,
of put out your left eye,
and so for nothing less
the reality’s keeps,
and if you see an American Jewish woman walkin’ down the street,
you wouldn’t war with Israel.
Know whadda I mean?

Wow, I think I’m healthy for the next line:
we are all one family.
We do business together that way,
on and offline.
He’s gonna put it in a bank watch this.
Why don’t you just leave it here?
Goddamnit,
could you put a photo at the top of the page
that is really, truly there because you like me?
And you enjoy your meal,
Ocean’s Eleven,
and there you have it.

How many realities of life are there?
A Boeing 747 in each one.
It’s on a fascinating, fascinating mountain not far from here.
Okay.
It’s in this poem.
Let’s go get some sleep
after the intro.
That’s not how about you rule things.
Your consciousness is up there.
I have trouble accessing it,
you are the poem.
I reckon then go,
go where your prime takes yah.
It’s right there
beyond the screen.


You just can’t do it.
What about an online pass?
We breed poems,
and I talk about accessibility.
It has that special sauce
when you’re committed to a short story a movie a play.
You don’t frontal lobe it.
You’d like to know
that word.
You thought you thought ahey? [line heard sung]
Leave me alone.
Alright be quiet.
I’ve gone back to being somebody’s poem on the internet.

It’s to help you open the world.
I’ve almost gotten you this evening.
Yes I’m quitting.
I put more butter
in my reality’s screen
to get out of the ego’s refusal to its environment.
Rest assured,
I just want God there
the vision I have always.

A quiet you find yourself in,
a silence that can see the stars,
these are the momentary hush
that come together to you for reality,
that grasp tangible God.
These are the momentary links
that give you all the nature of man.
Wind with me
to that summit.
I arrive there
the quiet in your room.
Lift with me
a moment tangible God.