Transcendence

photos 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.
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.

Everybody’s Do What To

photos 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.
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.

Who Is God Sun Master?

“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 Douglas
Bruno, photo by the author

Seeds of Destiny

“Douglas at the Watering Hole” by the author

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.

The Advice Capitalism

photo by the author

This is one of the poems that got me fired from my job at the Greater Fort Myers Beach Chamber of Commerce. 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.
Under Fire
Lake
with the hatred that rules society.
I’m on a mountain.
Each new tap on the shoulder crosses worlds
Snoopy rides,
but I’m into the fire
large out on the floor
from all the spiritual dawns.
You hear the spiritual advice at the Roxie?
Knock it off.
I’m a tourist information booth.

Everybody has left the United States.
We are beached on a poem.
There’s nowhere to turn.
I’ve fucked up.
I’ve called poetry in on its job.
I can’t even show you the poem.
You’d fight me for it.
Guaranteed I’d lose my job,
and I’d be homeless again.

What’s these great stakes?
Snowball,
we’d watch it rise downhill,
until my boss heard about it,
our not allow four dogs landlord.
Can I call them on it?
I can describe their preferences
that would reach the limit at this poem.
How much help they’ve given me
would end there.

What I am sayin’?
I’ve got a poem to knock your socks off,
but you don’t want to read it
if you’re a normal American fanfare,
if you reach deep in your pocketbooks
to exploit people,
if you make hell the end of the game
for non-Jesus people.

Can I get away with murder?
I have to be careful what I say.
I can’t open my mouth
in poetry.
I wanna see my dogs,
and I wanna live again.
Can you blame me
for self-censorship?
This isn’t fair.
I suffer.

I do not understand capitalism.
It won’t accept another way of life
that makes sacrifice a way of life,
sacrifice for your brother
and sister in life,
sacrifice to the better in you.
We’re beached on whale,
and even communism beaches there
and our church’s regard.

Come on Sacrifice Capitalism,
the laissez faire don’t believe in,
can we change the world there?
I have a hunch.
Before profits we ask need,
what’s best for the community,
and can we have humanity please
considered too?
Can we grand the whole world
in business decisions
so that animals matter
and the breath of our life trees,
what about for our island
Fort Myers Beach?

Sacrifice Capitalism
ladies and gentlemen.
Work out the details
school children in role play,
every business leader.
The profits take a backseat to need.
Can we get there?

Not even to a poem
I cannot show you
because you would not let me do it,
be a poet on live,
talk about the weather,
and political Christians
control the weather
that bursts apart in our minds,
and money rules the show.

I can’t spit out the juice.
I’m not exactly at fault.
Do you believe in poetry?
It’s just somethin’ to report to your superiors?
Now I need everybody to take a deep breath.
Is this paper weight?
A ninny of a poem,
a filler for time shares.
Wanna see the real thing?
Wanna see it?
You do?
Do you thirst for it?

I’m on a bank of the Lord
deliverin’ the paper.
A big decision,
and I’m not safe.
Ask you another question.
Glory did somethin’?
Whoa my poem just went in the air.
It’s gonna take some doin’
I rush this right through.
I’m 33-years-old,
givin’ out a lot of free material.
They killed him.
Damn,
you got your hands on me.
Do you get me my poetry constituents?

Fire in the yard,
I’m gonna put some poetry someplace else,
a whole nuther anthem from here.
I don’t trust you.
You’ll kick me out for poetry.
You won’t even give me a chance
to bring my dogs to town
my poetry has made you so mad.

This is the price you pay for poetry.
They take from you what you love.
They make you know you must comply
in the bowels of the truth
and keep your poem from the public mind
that would change minds.

“Faiths Are Only a Doubt”,
or whatever title it bears,
the poem I’m waiting for
to set the record straight,
is blowin’ in the wind.
Can you capitalism that?
Can capitalism show that?

The New Release

photo by the author

This is one of the poems that got me fired from my job at the Greater Fort Myers Beach Chamber of Commerce. 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.
For both a ride on me,
ageless against you,
and the age of the suns,
I’ll be thousands of fallin’ underneath my mind,
startled by the springs of enlightenment,
and the cards are in play
but too grandiose for my design.

Involved in the history,
I’m not chuckin’ wood,
but let’s face it I’m this little man in a little play.
Now look,
even in my beach job parking lot
the herald of swift event
patterned life.
I saw the nuances of things to come,
and I was a bearer there.

You can’t grasp this in your hand.
I held the Earth
in impossible lilies.
I knew it was a steamboat.
I handled it carefully
every damn day.
Can you imagine sleep without it?
It held me at night,
working on its intricacies.

I saw the world comin’.
It held my gasping hand in its own.
It was a birthday kiss.
It was a holocaust of things known.
I did not put all my rocks there.
I had bigger plans than Earth.

Can you starry enlightenment?
It will do you away.
You’re not there seein’ it.
You’ve disappeared,
standin’ right there in the middle of it,
and you’ve gone father than the world.

I know this land.
I can’t describe it to you.
It’s taken the world away
in perfect seeing.
I am not sure of its moorings.
My times there have been brief,
but you hear it in my gifted speech.

A whole field’s to play,
famous hotel,
unknown to the world.
Can you imagine seeing the impossible,
a world where none is,
sights and sounds that not be,
thoughts where none be,
a whole world arise from the Void
where nonexistence is?
What arises now?

I don’t know if I’m worth this.
I don’t know if it’ll come,
the springboards of the Earth
a seer’s grasp,
the passive in God’s hands,
the no-self of enlightenment,
the end of suffering for individual man.

The floodgates are open
for this puny start,
a beach bellhop boy
liberals through the strong right-wing
the doors of enlightenment,
contentment and peace,
where the wild things are.
I carry that trailer.
I tarry there.

It’s worth it,
no firecrackers in the belly.
Wish you that payment.
I started looking at shiny objects.
I realized there was a behind the behind
in every word that’s true,
when you touch base with reality.

I wanted a bridge.
The vehicles of enlightenment
silence the world,
engineer reality
to make the grand crossing.
Uh-Huh, there’s a reality there
enlightenment leads to,
the nature of reality,
where we come from.

And you think you’ve stalled on enlightenment?
There’s a beyond.
It studies the world for you.
It’s its master design.
The roads ever get deep.
Another universe holds this one in ours,
and we go on from there.

The All-Encompassing All-At-Once
is the study of the game,
and we’re on flat level Earth,
the first rising structure
to pick up This land.
How can I get this across?

No sight can show you it.
No mode of thought gets there.
You can sit in the All-At-Once of the sun
to use a metaphor,
and there you can see the dynamics
swiftly over your head
in a secret passage to our Source.

Now bring enlightenment into the picture.
It’s stills the world for you
to get to the other side
into the reality beyond the universe,
into the reality that made us.

Glory in the spoken word of poetry.
One bad dream
is this universe to cross.
Right this minute,
can you get the sense of creation?
Can you see it larger than the book?

We went past it.
What happened?
We got services
hello Cape Canaveral.
One accident,
it’s gonna be close.
Till Hunter gets back
we don’t leave reality to the fishes.
We get out of these beach suits,
the mere survival looking for enjoyment,
the group mind.
I’ll be right back.
And it was a hunter for spiritual dawns.

Can you see that out of the routine?
Bonanza,
we’ve established this fact on earth again.
The pilot’s license,
where we start.
Oh my God my head on my shoulders,
this is like the bus you know.

Carry Meaning

Me at work at the Roxie, photo by a kind tourist lady named Eleanor, taken just after writing the poem

This is one of the poems that got me fired from my job at the Greater Fort Myers Beach Chamber of Commerce. 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.
I sit and toil all day
at the heart’s sky,
laboring meaning into form
that won’t surprise me with its despair.

I unhand time.
It seizes me.
I believe in miracles.
It’s all a wonderful of the All-Look’s gaze.
I labor to see that.

I can remember it happening
long ago.
All the sights I see hide God.
Can you hide God?
It’s a revelation in a day,
the abruptness of creation
organizing time.

I can see through the forms
cloud my mind with meaning.
That bus that just stopped there,
it stayed a bus,
but it carried mystery.

The people at the bar getting drunk next door,
a singer sings their songs.
I can’t find the music or the melody
they become more than sharks
wetting their nose on freedom.

I carry them in time,
the little guy at the Roxie station wagon
tourist information center,
seeing past the show
into metaphor’s play.

Bathing suits and butts
don’t know what they mean.
Their wearers are proud of them.
They walk past smiling don’t look
stirring sexual desire.

I don’t know how to do this,
be a Roxie concierge
and assign God to the role.
I just mean somethin’ to everyone.
My hand is ever on time’s grasp,
“Yes ma’am, can I help you please?”


I study tourists
tryin’ to find time
a meal on paradise.
Can I help you folks?
Every meaning
gets bigger than time
and be what it means for.

Can you see that?
Every meaning we look at
wears the face of God,
but every dog knows
God is horribly attentive
to things you don’t understand.

I will find meaning there.
I will reach beyond the Earth
and sit at the Roxie and be myself
guiding tourists to their destination
on Fort Myers Beach.
Yah get me dog?

The Immediacy

The podium on the stage of the Art Hall in Koreshan State Park, Florida, where the utopian religious group, Koreshan Unity, had its community, whose founder and prophet was Cyrus Teed. A visit and a meditation there inspired this poem.

This is one of the poems that got me fired from my job at the Greater Fort Myers Beach Chamber of Commerce. 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.
In dreams and visions my voices speak.
What are you doing over here?
I’m a religious nut.
I can’t control myself I hear visions.
I count the salesmen in my dreams.
Go wake up humanity,
I can’t count the number of times I tried.
I can’t even get a word across.

This is not save the world vision.
I mean like
I’ll never forget that I
made the wrong sort of mud pies.
I write poetry to reach the world.
I’m not a religious figure to charm it.
I’ve opened up consciousness inside.
There’s no barnstormin’.
I’m a quiet place takin’ a mile.
I sit and read muse,
no religious fanaticism,
but I answer questions bluntly and with sarcasm.
Let’s see what stinks here.
Your mind.

Flying saucers from outer space did not tell me a thing.
I have not been visited by angels
tellin’ me I’m the man.
I don’t want to get in your pants.
I don’t want you to obey me.
I would like a better society.
I would like to say things that mean somethin’.
I would like to hold your hand,
where you don’t look down on me.
I would like to lift you up
in your mind where you think
and touch that heart of yours.

We have a society here growin’ money
and hate your neighbor.
The mind of us is not the best of us.
Our souls are only beliefs not houses kept.
We think each other wrong.
We don’t hand out society
so you’re a prized member.
That’s the rich and famous.
We don’t know how to do it,
be kind to one another,
and it’s not a social laugh,
the uncomfortableness
of putting each other down
to get at time with one another,
or at best we keep our distance
from heartfelt communication.
We laugh at one another
and wear big social masks to prove it,
or we’re tryin’ to sell somethin’
when fake that sincerity.

Who is vulnerable and sweet?
Who lets their guard down
and give people meaningful communication?
Our minds are full of the kingdoms of ourselves.
And I’m not sure how to write that.
Would you group with me?
I’m a group-minded person,
and I give group to my human being.
I don’t consider other groups human,
the Democratic Party for instance,
or those Republicans.
Man I love everybody.
Now you everybody’s get off the bus.
I’m lying to my social lying.
I can only tolerate certain people.

You disguised my I,
and I’m sharin’ in your business
I don’t understand.
You’re not the biggest people in the world
Americans.
You’re not even tryin’.
What happened to me?
There are changes in consciousness ahead.
I’ve had some previews.
I was not someone you handled correctly.
You didn’t know how to see me,
and I just fucked up.
I got intah trouble.
The previews came as a start
to help me feel you as I feel myself,
even if
you look down on me.

I saw humanity.
I’ve seen the world as my eye,
no, no, not its offerings to me.
I am a vision of the world as we speak.
We look out each other’s eyes,
in the world being that we are,
and we look out the eyes of God,
who is the vision everything.
It is possible to break free
from single vision’s number lair,
from one pole of consciousness don’t you see?
I’m about that vision.
It’s universal.
We all share it.

We’re lost in me’s
and the boundaries of our group.
I’m so sorry
this chain gang has defeated my eyes too.
Can I help you some
see the truth,
reality as it is,
no religious overlays,
no scientism that can’t see past its own nose?
Reality’s bigger than you think,
and you have identity outside of time.
You aren’t this puny self
laboring on a hapless globe
that can’t see itself
and know it’s true.
You’ve put on actors wings,
and it’s a hell of a ride ain’t it?

And all your dreams represent things to you
because you are representative in time.
You’re bigger than you think,
in household wears,
not your peckin’ order.
You are actually beyond the stars
lookin’ through a thin pigeonhole
at that embarrassed I down in time.
We’re all naked down here,
and pride just can’t seem to go with us to sleep.
It takes coffee to perk it up,
and who knows the master plan
of the universe?
Kids we are and kids we’ll be,
until we wake up on ourselves.

Do you know a mature notion?
It’s not here,
in every man for himself,
in the little world we’ve made,
in the societies we’ve engendered
that make you obey it
like it’s a real group
but blames its faults on individuals,
a world that does not know itself.

Good works and technology,
you can’t move the field there.
We have consciousness to change,
and that’s not a thought process.
The consciousness changes into its larger type.
I’m puttin’ this in your hands,
the ideal for the ages,
the thing we’ve been workin’ at all along.
It’s not a messiah you see.
It’s not wings from outer space.
You do the change and me,
and we get bigger than ourselves.
Blinded I am?

Some Violation of Boarding Pass

A lot of things up there I don’t like to talk about.
It’s a mess up there,
and it chases your life.
I’m an idiot for believing it.
There’s no hope on this runway.
I can’t even see my dogs.
I lost all the people who matter to me.
They’ve taken me out of India
for a visa violation.
Can you imagine Dylan?

I had several minutes to pack.
Nithish came and we talked.
Everybody was crying.
No appeal allowed.
They were stone-hearted men.
The immediacy of the situation derailed me.
I was not prepared to go.
No one would listen to my pleas
just a few days please.
It was heartbroken.
The dogs were so confused.
Bruno knew.
The pain in that dog’s eyes, can it kill you?

Who knows
the price you have to pay for poetry?
I made the Auroville Foundation mad,
and they promptly got rid of me
and didn’t even show their face.
Their lackeys did it.
I’m going to shoot them tomorrow,
not with guns with their guilt.
Douglas and I are on a plane to nowhere.
We’ve been kicked out of our home.
I am over skies now.
I don’t know where I am.
I don’t care to.
I will never see my dogs again.

A few minutes to pack
after a life of 20 years.
No international rights,
what do you do with that
when your life-blood is on the table,
all your hopes and dreams?
Even Nithish’s parents cried,
and we all forgave each other.
So many crying people came to see up off,
and it didn’t move a cop.

This is land’s lamb,
a spoken inner voice,
and it will even tell on itself.
It won’t leave you alone.
To trust it is to invite paradise,
but hell is its price.
Pain and suffering slam me now,
and I don’t know what to do with that.
More poetry please.
Look I gotta get out of this ride.
Most things have to be deleted anyway.
I’m sorry.
Look it’s over.

What happened?
The government has cancer.
It only has a gun.
It breaks people’s hearts,
is only concerned with its name,
can’t see past its own nose,
is a bear eating people.
No one can call it on it.
You get in trouble.
They won’t let you talk.
When you give them a divinely inspired poem they get mad,
shoot the messenger,
tear apart his family.

What’s the wasted gun,
where I meet the government,
or where it meets me?
Hand that over
a hide and seek.
Show dinner now
how much bullshit serves me on myself,
or am I worth the life of this poet?

Plenty of people
have no pride.
It’s part of the hardship of life.
Do we let then in?
Do we let the haphazard come in?
They’ll throw it open like they’re dying without it.
They are not sincere.
They’re trying to get over on you whatever they can.
They can’t look you in the eye and say they’re sorry.
They’re all over the place,
a dim a dozen.

I need to know what that man’s like.
Test him some.
Come to his house and sit at his table.
Is there anybody but himself in his banyan tree
who are not satellite I’s of his solar I?
Can he have compassion?
Will he sacrifice
for those around him?
Is he a hope in humanity’s heart?
Does he genuinely feel the presence of others?
What does it take to make him smile?
Can you count lighthouse in him?

I’m askin’ the right questions
say you find an illegal immigrant.
These are the criteria we live by,
and he needs to show that.
Can I get a horseman here please?
We’re blowin’ humanity out of the water
throwin’ somebody out of the country
such as these.
An immigrant’s status
give the immigrant’s worth?

Look at yesterday.
They pull a poet
out of his home.
Because I didn’t read his poetry.
I listened to the bossman.
We celebrate this.
You’re at 1 o’clock.
Put more tickets through.
It’s all good.
Put the police upon the table,
and this defends a society
of Indian spirituality?

Our family there were told that the Secretary of the Auroville Foundation, Jayanti Ravi, filed a police complaint against me for the past three poems on this blog, which are about Auroville. Four men came to our house, all in civilian clothes, and only one would show his ID, the one from immigration, whom it’s reasonable to assume that they brought just in case there was a visa violation, and there was. Later, since I was holding out in my house, the regular police came.

Recently Auroville News and Notes reported that the Auroville Foundation has brought 15 members of the special police who are crushing dissidence in Kashmir to do that in Auroville. I suspect at least two of the men who wouldn’t show ID were them.

A Different Course, the Light of Day

The Prime Minister, Shri Narendra Modi at the great Banyan Tree in Auroville on February 25, 2018. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and the Prime Minister’s Office (GODL-India)
From the paths of the Alone,
if it’s any consolation,
I alone this to you,
the next lesson cheerio.
The heart of Auroville is the banyan tree
establish the Earth
oneness drive everything.
The Infinite of days,
things are stepped back,
exploded on the scene:
I hate this bible;
I have a schoolbook to cram down your throat,
the rules and regulations;
I just wanna have fun.
The voices chorus.
Just leave my damn trees alone
and my vegetables—
I’m sustainable Auroville.
I’ve got some rocket science get yah,
a whole lot of Sri Aurobindo—
the Mother’s disciples’ Auroville.

It’s a land grab
right in the heart of the city,
and then the government comes in
and makes you disciples of her
all the way to India
that’s the tower we find.
It makes you want to pull up stakes,
the whole registry.
A failed experiment
has come apart on itself.
You can’t get there from here.
You can’t even try.
You just sit and wait
for another dawn.

Where do we go wrong?
The goodwill to continue.
It doesn’t hurt anybody.
It doesn’t seek them shame.
It’s taller than a government
and is not about right of way.
It has no agenda to sell you
at the expense of itself.
It’s charitable to everybody,
even the weak.
It has no bad man.
Goodwill lifts him out of that.
It’s good to everybody.

The fundamentals of goodwill started this place,
and all this was hijacked early on
and has led to today,
a fractured Auroville.
Policy glows in goodwill,
is meant for the right change,
and it glows on our vegetables.
People’s particulars glow in goodwill
to come right themselves.
This is not known among you?
If you see the fruit you see the tree.
Goodwill governs all,
and that’s where we land Auroville
to come back to itself.
Are you going to fight this?
Are you going to make it mean?

The heart collapsed,
the heart of Auroville.
It puts lunch in children’s boxes
and go all over India.
Get to every
place on earth,
the Auroville plane.
This trap is completely
in our noosphere,
such is the spirit of this endeavor,
the daunting human-wide of Auroville.

You’ve blocked me with anger and ill will
from the anger and ill will
in the very pocketbook of Auroville,
the poet of your gifted change,
the poet sent here to warn you.
Just come and govern
everything with ill will,
is this just your blindness or your willful
stance?
Time of death,
is that the lesson of Auroville?

This is the form of the divine.
I report that they are only satellites.
It's all fences regarding the sun.
We can’t get at that meat in the matter.
It’s too broad-minded you,
and you will not meet us there.
I cough this up now
a poem rose
in certain straits,
but I’m not in a tin can.
The availability of truth
is relative to the participant,
but I tell you sincerity guides my house.
It’s what I lean on.
I can get closer to the truth,
but will you meet me there?
Will you even try?

Oh my goodness Auroville,
that’s the study sheet,
that’s what we make our daily rounds:
ever widening to the truth,
ever widening to contain it all,
to stand at last on higher ground,
to get there,
the reason Auroville was made.
We localize human divinity here,
and that is ever the strength now.

I attempted to send this poem via email to recipients in Auroville, but my email ID was blocked. I’d sent the previous poem on this blog, “The New Business”, to all the addresses that blocked this one. This poem and the previous one made the secretary of Auroville, Jayanti Ravi, mad, and she got me kicked out of India over it, personally.