What is a hands-on prayer?
Full of spiritual philosophy,
do this, don’t do that,
I won’t bring you to lunch.
I won’t even put my arse on the toilet.

Oh you offended seekers read on.
Can I hold God in my hands
the stadium of this moment,
in the guttural process be?
I don’t know where we begin.

I can’t find my soul
the laughable, lovable life I’m having.
All love is taken from me by death
and weary,
and I can’t find joy on the sun.
I can’t even find life.

I have split my mind
with silence ineffable,
sat for a moment in that nameless place
beyond Earth’s ego.

I have even climbed the heavens
in a seconds’ ride
to the space beyond stars
and sat in my true self.

I am not here to complain of God and soul.
You would not believe me anyway.
I want to meet God with life can I?
Not in a station up there,
but down here in living flesh
that does not appear an illusion.

I want to mate time with life,
and it doesn’t hurt or get boring.
Fill me with woods now I’m clean.
I’m on your dresser drawer
vying for true spirituality,
not plaudits,
not wise sayings,
not moral admonishments.

I wanna set myself on fire with the living God
and be down to earth and warm,
not disdaining life,
not rejecting it.
I want heaven on earth.
Do you?

My voice recording
realized ages ago
a tale had to be told.
Pardon me.

How many have drowned and seen God?
It’s not in your litmus paper,
fireballs from heaven.
I’m just this silly nigger among you.
I’m not allowed to cook at your ashram
or say grace
at a potluck dinner.

What do I do with community?
Everybody’s competin’ for the same pair of eyes.
It’s not pronounced yet,
but these are God’s love eyes.
How many hypocrites wear ‘em?
I just wanted the field to say.

I can’t get over myself.
I feel the claustrophobia of Don.
I feel the pain of the world.
You market too.
I know it.

I’m stuck in this little person
having bigger thoughts than I am.
I have seen beyond the veil,
but I walk the creek and cry for my dog,
where she put her paws.

I crawl through the fucking hours just like you,
listening for a laugh.
I’m not a kingpin.
The joke’s on me.
I hug the hours
what is this shit worth?
But I want comfort from them you know.

I caught God in a torrent
of this space is mine.
I plant my feet and sigh God,
wonderful to have this world guarding moment.

This just eats my lunch,
the walls of the present moment
that won’t let me see the eternal now.
I’m stuck in flesh.
I cannot climb out of this shell.
I cannot get beyond myself.

You laugh at me and point fingers,
or feel the compassion the sage feels
seeing truant man,
but I hold commerce with the universe,
and I am crowded with deity on the tip of my pen.

They holler at me in the world
and grab my hand,
and I know the stench of devils
and feel their blind assaults.

I hold my head up high in the pit of night
and do sadhana.
I call God down into my house
and know the wretched I have been,
and it’s with bowed head and extended prayer
I cry to the heavens God.
Come bake with me will you
God on earth.

Such limited character changes development.
I’m not a rosy fire-kingdom.
My sadhana is my pedestal
I balance the present moment on
to keep in those thin parameters
the divine name
only mystery speaks,
a firm and fast bewilderment
at the thoughts of God
taking shape
in the world in front of me.

All else assails there.
All else comes from there,
or I am robbed there
by my own insufficiencies.
Why do I play in the yard?
I ask zero that question
and grab myself by the balls and move on.

I’m in line with the Earth,
and I don’t throw the Earth away to meet God.
The Earth is myself,
and we are all climbing out of the Void.

I hold identity with the Earth,
come rain or shine,
and that’s how we form Earth,
together,
encompassing the world to find God,
reaching out of the universe to bring God here,
hands-on God,
the eyes that we look out of
and the hands that we use.

Needs spiritual experience
wants the dragon response back to his house.
Who’s pic do you follow?
Hands on fate now.
It’s time to get past
lawsuits.

You just comb what was expected of you.
I challenge the world
and then pick my nose.
My overdo’s, my out of dates.
[vision with the line of Sri Aurobindo seated looking at me in one of the last photos of him taken]

He’s got a principle pair.
He’s bigger than skylight.
He’s my guru,
has a leading voice in my poetry,
is the principle behind my music,
is who I look to for divine change.

He’s open-minded and warm,
and I been with ‘im a long time.
I do inner contact sadhana,
right before your eyes.

I don’t sit and guess upon the world.
I get my hand held,
but I’m a rebellious student.
I question and accuse,
lift mine eyes to the heavens
and tell the Gods off.

I give him a hard time.
I hold him to his task,
am livid and rude sometimes,
but I love him dearly
and follow him on nails.

You don’t know what’s been asked of me,
the role I have to carry.
There is no forgiveness among men,
nor mercy
for being left out in the cold.

I am principle love.
Not a person has it really.
I put you to the test.
You only care the pool of men.
The love of God you distain,
yet I go on,
wearing the vermillion caste mark,
the scarlet letter.

You would be jealous if you knew the score.
You certainly would never believe it.
What I lose from men I get with God,
companionship, love, and hope,
to a degree you don’t know possible.

Now I’m in your neck of the woods,
a long time ago repented of my sins.
Big fucking deal—
you’d rub my nose in it anyway.
You’re incapable of being ought than you are.
You have not the oneness inside.

You do not love God you love your morality,
and you are good to the good, bad to the bad,
forever more amen.
You want punishment and castigation.
You don’t know the law of healing.
You can’t stand it.

I have healing ways.
I’m a doctor of behavior and attitude,
of the soul heals.
I will die with my knowledge unused.
You don’t know the value of such things.
You spit on it.

Doctor of the soul,
where the soul leads the way,
is the therapist and changer of man,
that is what I bring among you.
It doesn’t come easy.
You have to have a need
naught else but healing.
It will take years.

You guys do me a favor.
Come through my poems.
It’s all in there,
but most have been taken offline.
When I die open them up and read them,
and then put my name in the list of life.
Include me again in your society.
I did the work you wanted me to do.

You would be pleased I suffered.
Oh, I suffered,
threw myself up against your heart so many times,
cried out to God in pain.
I’m showin’ where we’re stuck in the ways of man.
No one sees it.

There are more of us than I can bear,
hated outcasts,
and I am the heart of humanity
shoulderin’ the world.

This is the place you need to work,
right here,
to change the nature of man.
Right here today
I give you the example of sacrifice.
Fire away,
take away my world from me,
again.
I’m showin’ you what love looks like when it’s in your hands,
and know I love you.

Marriage of soul and Earth,
I thought it was attracted to something beautiful.
It’s the most guttural, physical location there is.
We’d need to make plans.
Where are you going?
My butt’s yours man.
All for one and one for soul.

I could get worse and I could get chicory,
but we do business with the Earth you know,
and we all share this intimacy.
You got God there watchin’—
oh my honey child,
it’s all my plan.

I feel coverage beating on the roof of the world.
I’m not smiling.
This is so crash and burn.
I don’t know how to reconcile this with God,
the holes in the program.
It’s bigger than me,
but God is here my friend,
like this is the Void,
and he can’t get at it in his shoes.

I’m not worried about that.
I want to mate my life with God
in everything I do.
How does this play out in the world?
We come upon a change of consciousness,
not just worship God.

We take God’s coverage and go there,
until we look out the eyes of God.
I have,
and I’m tellin’ yah it’s greater than enlightenment.
Mountains are movin’ me there now,
that way station of enlightenment.

You would laugh and tell jokes—
who does he think he is?
Can I just be plain water?
I’ve reached bare earth.
I’m not haughty in my mind.
I see myself and whistle Dixie,
the idiom dear not the racism.

Nothin’ I do is great or small,
and I can hold my dick in my hand and not play with it,
but that’s not all I’m after.
I want to look at you and not be offended
by I’m such a shit to you.
I don’t want to hurt by it no more,
feel the pain of this earthen outcast.
You are mean you know.

Terrible my time with you
I do not speak right,
and you are so hung up on speech,
get offended at the guttural word.
I’m loud and clear
it takes willingness to change.

Get off your high horse man
and meet us at the river,
where even naked we’re not ashamed of ourselves,
and we do not harm one another,
but where the wild things are,
myself and all these people,
who’ve torn you a new asshole
interpreting God anew.
The river my friend,
will you join me?

A cyclic poem,
I pull myself up on the crap all the time,
and here I am writin’ down wood.
I’m bustin’ your balls.
I should just go swimmin’ with you
in everybody’s freeway.

Can we reach each other at guttural need,
or are we alone inside that’s it?
We play ballgames here.
It’s not divided up in sexes.
It’s not even wrong.

The New Jerusalem is galvanized
on we lift up you and me.
It doesn’t falter it doesn’t shame.
We heal through change of consciousness,
and we love one another.

Are you ready to buy this thing?
This cycle
I un-stigmatize God,
the lover of all of us,
the inside and outside of every situation.
I hated it there
until I realized what it took to change.

I smell soup.
All these cut up ingredients,
they’re in the zero God,
right there to form the ingredients
of the long-awaited paradise on earth.

Fool my ass,
I’m joinin’ reality with heaven right now.
You got them balls?
They’re skyrockets,
my love made real.

Fine, I’ll wait.
You’re gonna be up in my room
either here or in heaven on earth:
ah, ah, a neighborhood
this got foreseen;
this was available for everyone;
are you risking your life?

Blockbuster down
and not one single person to help.
Oh vagina.
Now let’s grab by the bones
and grow taller than mankind.
Okay brotherhood?

You just get offended at plowshares.
I’m followin’ my inspiration right.
This is not sex do the poem.
Okay Goldilocks?
Alright man,
I’m not dangerous help.
Without a muffler
I brighten the thoughts of God.
If you haven’t noticed he’s a character.
Great Scott!
they kicked 'im out of town.