If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.

I’m sorry, but
no matter what you believe you’re gonna come here.
Before the railroad tracks are finished
people come here
to get all the way to science
and beyond,
to know they’ve come far.
We’re strong views.
We’re rebel.
Look normal.
We haven’t come up with a big movie yet.
It’s impossible.
No one wants to change the world.

Everyone’s got their cliffhangers on.
They’re mean and nasty
to the price of change,
to real change in their hand.
We’re on limits.
You can’t spell change.
Everybody thinks it’s in your diet and food,
or political views,
or in how you diet hang out,
or in how you sex hang out,
or kind of man you have,
I mean the humanity you keep.
Do you follow the rules
of this persuasion?

An opening,
the availability of consciousness,
it’s not in your yard yet,
even if you do study your dreams.
“I’ve been in a dream group for 40 years,”
she told me,
“I see the mundane as everything.”
You can’t lizard
the mundane is all I see;
I don’t see the world in a glass.
You can't say like that
and expect to get out of it
more than it has.

You’re only interested in the world that you see.
Where is your bigger notion?
What are you looking at?
Oh hey,
all the religions are an attempt
to get us across
a bridge that won’t hold our weight
or allow us to cross
if we’re human.
They don’t change your consciousness.
They’re a system of rules and beliefs
and practices.
They’re not the main front.
You are a really good person because of them
or really on their side.
The chances of you stumbling upon enlightenment,
even if your religion reaches that far,
tell me they’re great.

I am the light of the world—
holdin’ consciousness.
It’s bigger than you think.
It’s got sleeves on it.
You can study the world through there.
I’ve opened up a big one,
the inner voice and vision,
what’s you’re listenin’ to right here.
I mean that’s on the radio now.
Shakespeare left out the spiritual bits
you know,
as this is not unknown
poets write.
Do pause it we can
and throw it out our window,
Mr. and Mrs. Public Mind,
the Flintstones.
Let’s sing, shall we?

All in a day’s work,
that’s the Munchkins,
and we proprietor our list
further afield.
There’s also the vehicle of consciousness itself,
direct seeing.
It has modes on it.
You see the world touching itself,
even on your inside.
You see it aware of itself
in your thought throes.
You know you are the larger organism
evolving in man.
Then there’s the sleeve of spiritual vision itself.
You see the world not in it.
These are huge immensity spheres
the world is just a part of.
It’s got Gods in it and Queens
and everything you look at
that’s invisible here on earth,
the spiritual knowledge part
you open your eyes to,
the direct experiences beyond belief.

Okay we’re singing rain.
Things still fall apart.
You lose your loved ones
and die.
You have a bad day.
You get your fingers crossed.
Oh God hallelujah,
you see the end of the world.
Now let’s climb out of this, shall we?
It’s good
to see beyond the world.

Now I can’t get yah up there,
on infinity’s plane,
on the real you,
on the individuality that you are God
that just as startlingly made a world
to descend into,
the whole cup,
in the maturity of its spheres.
I can’t get yah up there but I can try
to get you beyond the world
in your anal sphincter,
in that most bottom place you see the world.
It’s all symbol and wrought.

We live in a game
that none of our games measure.
It’s not a flippant to the wind.
It has purpose and time
and is goin’ somewhere.
It’s bigger than anything you do
or that you can think out of,
is the holder of time
transcendent of it.
It doesn’t bottom out the world.
It’s these glory stakes.
A Power has come down from on high
and smote open the Void.
It happens
nothingness takes on forms
we inhabit.
Buttressed up by the Void,
we’re not gonna have a good time,
or all our good times
will be shadowed by doom.

We are experiments
in world making,
but we are more than that.
We are the spirit in the machine.
We’re not just Void forms.
God inhabits us
like his wears,
and the final Mystery we cannot penetrate
inhabits us and God.
There are more levels than you can shake a stick at,
using words of ours to describe the unknown,
to the All-Immensity Everything
that goes down to our toes
closer to us than us,
fields beyond this Earth.

I’ve taken you that far
in the measure of this poem.
I’ve shown you immensity.
I’m a traveler you see.
I’ve been up there on high
a brief moment,
and I’ve stepped in enlightenment a time or two,
and here I’ve given it to you,
a way out of this mess,
a higher calling,
a way to get your feet on the ground.
It’s an opening in the consciousness you see,
wide open exploration
of this thing called you
in every door inside you can find,
until the world shuts off
its all there is.

You grow in consciousness
to encompass the world,
spiritualize everything you see…
Hold on,
this is not a play God worship triangle.
You realize the larger You
beyond spheres,
and you rest in that notion,
and you take that car
to enlightenment and beyond,
and you get there
sooner or later.
Death cannot stop you,
and the next life can’t impede.
You are so window
the life in front of you.

Can you see beyond time?
Your origins speak to your gulfs
you are bigger than time,
and your gulfs can feel that,
even in the midst of misery,
and I’m tellin’ yah how
to lift yourself out of it.
You see the truth of things.
You see their representative nature.
You know you are a hero
in some goddamn movie
where the movie making art
has reached the skies,
a film with bad junction,
confusing the shit out of us
here and there,
but it’s home itself
under the wood,
in its crossbeams
enlightenment
sticks its face in.
It’s another place entirely
the bended world that you see.
Am I gettin’ my point across?
Do you see it?
Do you know it’s there,
the
way out of trouble?

And we’re goin’ beyond science now,
with its clipped outlook on things.
Forever know
in matter’s field
matter is all there is,
or the building blocks of matter
all put in a row.
They can’t see the larger field.
Science is blind to immensities.
Universal laughs
count its sums.
How diamond is that,
science has not reached its zenith yet?

Pale immensities blind its urge.
The starry star field space
and cosmic uncertainties
sheriff its notions,
and even atoms ride this dance,
the subatomic swirl.
I cannot count to you science’s sums,
but it’s not looking for meaning
in this grand design.
Pallid parts,
a working whole,
dumbly do their duty.
It has no imagination afar,
and it doesn’t care to look.

Consciousness is to it a vague table
it does not know the meaning of,
matter designs,
spits out,
and the ghost in the machine cannot be found.
Matter is a bridge to cross
they do not wire consciousness in.
This baffles them.
All the firings are there,
all the many sounds,
but consciousness is not a thing to behold.
The experience of self
eludes their grasp.
A sudden actor upon the scene,
or does self and being go way back?

Consciousness is the ghost in the machine,
and we would find it there,
our meaning,
in great explorations of consciousness
that find common ground.
Study those,
enlightenment’s sphere,
as a vehicle of consciousness,
not a who-done-it,
and all can find the well of soul,
falling down the chute of consciousness
all through dream to it.
You’ve been there before,
in dreamless sleep,
all your lives.
It’s a good night’s sleep,
the trudge on children
in waking them up,
if you want to know the truth.
They’ve been down there you see.

There’s no way to go down there for memory.
You will never think there before
you consciously enter the chute and go there,
and there’s the hells of our long road,
and the other side,
the city of the dead who are living
a different kind of life,
slow, as the sun
that cooks our Earth,
is not there,
and who can make it to the other side
of life and death and enter Heaven?
And I have not counted all,
the common locations to us all
in the realms of consciousness,
only what I myself have experienced
and know is there
the whole of humanity join me
in its stories and lore.

There are common locations to us all
science can seize
by a collective looking
not bound by science.
Imagination’s down there
and our own fantasy realms
and the inner experience we have,
but we can break some ground, you know,
in identifying locations.
I have been a rocket ship
on a moment’s par
and lifted my head out of the universe
in impossible sun,
into the larger field we are,
into the glory ride.

What can I tell you about it?
You hear all these poems.
I can’t get science there
in its studying arm,
its microscope,
its larger then field share,
and it won’t give me credit for my see,
but truth follows truth,
and we will arrive beyond the universe one day
with our science lens,
and we will discover purpose in time
and the microscope looking at us
in great giros of love
we identity share.

Is this the danger it keeps,
oh my God, that’s us,
microscopic entities
Gods eat,
or horrible beings ride?
Did you listen to a word I said?
We’re not computer simulations.
We can’t make universes lock, stock, and barrel.
Ours is a pitiful notion
confined to a computer.
We can’t make whole universes
the experiment in time.
We can’t unlock the Void
from its secrets.
We can’t unlock nothingness.
We are scientists and engineers
trapped in a universe
simulating ourselves to no end,
and we cannot create out of it.
Do you have your head on you see?
Are you there?

No, no, no, no,
I’m not the teardrop.
I wonder how much that costs,
to great words beyond themselves
and fashion reality with them?
To fashion realty,
hey come here and see the goat
a poem’s to pick you with.
That poet to your face,
it’s no wonder
I’m not gonna rush from my job and see ‘im.
Alright hero,
lighten up.
You suffer
from everyday world,
and I can get there you see:
billy goat,
from man to human that’s me.

We’re all dead to the computer at the stop.
There seems no way around it,
through the computer,
and we will not solve our problems with it,
not the problem of human love.
We are crashing fast all around us,
and we need some hands on to change.
We are so in hatred with Jeffery Epstein
and anyone that gives a nod to him,
or gave,
in this American moment,
you won’t even look at my hand
and the impossible I’ve done.
I’ve changed the character of man.
I’ve changed my own nature,
right here on Planet Earth
under your nose,
and I’ve done it with these formulas
of greater looking,
and I will touch you there,
if you will get out of your head and smile
at this poet in his underwear,
at this poet at the helm
of the words that change life,
if you would but bear them
where yours touches life,
your meaning,
your purpose in time.
Rub meaning together,
I’m sorry,
I will show you the way.
That
is a field to play.

Do you know what man is?
They are the social strata of society,
who we are in time.
A human being has arrived at life
in everybody shares.
Don’t the movie
as man.
That have cooled stuff,
you’re doin’ better
than man.
You need a tablet.
A new style
of poetry,
poetry on the landmass,
poetry in spiritual circles,
well it brings us
that tablet in hand.

There’s more answers in here than you can shake a stick at.
Are you an important brow?
Can’t bother shrimp,
the poetry?
What are you tellin’ me?
Fixin’ to we honestly believe it or not,
right there in heart’s school.
We gallop there
towards our hidden rider,
the superhuman rider,
the supramental rider.
The internet,
that’s not your bluetooth.
It’s not even your mounting station.
This is all inside,
inside
in your latchkey universe.

Hearts are society.
Only yourself?
You’ll do fine.
There’s so many fields
of love,
so many,
in the inner workings of man.
Humanity’s all around you.
You’ve brought your dog
all through your humanity
the Tony Award.
Now open your eyes on the Earth
and see the living things.
Gotcha!
That’s a feelings test
you hold in your arms too,
heart bake,
in the self views of them too.
Wow I’ve spoken home.
You still got the funeral
looking before you.

My dog brings this around
to matter,
oh that sweet Luna.
Her inner Booboo
rumbles around dog notions
the sweetest in her kin.
She’s a safety dog,
the sweetest in the yard.
We find out ways how to handle change
in our everyday life
and make life better for all.
You got a formula.
Now the spiritual consciousness is so rare.
The Supermind is so rare.
Hi silly eyes,
let’s get the toolroom goin’.

Yes what you’ll do,
the sweetest island you’ll surface,
your very soul in your hands
living and breathing on Planet Earth.
Beats me,
that’s great for jump rope.
You are the hero of a stupendous movie,
don’t you get it?
Look I’ve
given you the very keys to the kingdom,
in spoken shares,
in soft I love yous,
left on your doorstep one,
the availability of soul,
and you know it’s there.
You know it.
The liftin’ voice and vision
that tamed this old coot,
I was gonna leave it for empire,
but it’s just around the house, you know?
Now in your bed.
I was gonna sing Kings and Queens
you live your life around,
but don’t bother.
The Gods are your starry roads,
not your kingdom,
your appetizers,
not the main course,
and that God is every name you know.
You hear me Houston?

Now here we are out of the cosmos
in the larger see,
the origin of the universe
and of you and me.
What a Person Trump deported;
thanks for the rule book.
That’s as high as you can go
in witness Houston.
It’s gettin’ to last people
eternity on earth,
your neighbor
the Gods in Heaven.
You haven’t been here
in imagination,
and there sure is fuck no rules to get there
Shenandoah.
We’re all laid out right,
though
of followin’ our own line of development,
hitchin’ on stars
from the eyes of soul.
Oh I forgot it.
No you haven’t Bhoomi,
no you certainly haven’t.
Pace an hour
in your notebook,
it’s the greatest thing on earth.
Just keep pacin’ until you feel like the world
watchin’ itself
in sweet tender shares.
You’ve found soul in your baked bread.
You’ve found soul in your living room.
It’s a temple ground you see,
the whole goddamn Earth,
set your right,
get you all squared away,
and now Mr. and Mrs. Bojoe,
look at me,
as a governin’ sunshine
in my hullabaloo.
You want me to turn out
what helps you?
Just pick up this poem
and read it
to all who cares.
Look I’ll send it to you
here on earth.
Gotcha!

We’re dealin’ okay.
What we’re tryin’ to do
is put you on that crosswalk.
Let me tell yah,
I think you’re up for it.
Techniques binding?
Let’s put it right under your nose.
Well, I been thinking.
Let’s get this started.
They’re here.
I’ll take a look.
In your head
take a looking,
you couldn’t find it.
It’s sweet and natural and pure,
over the rainbow.
You’re in that house.
Dick it with your feelings test.
Charge it with your mind.
Put everything on it.
Imitate its silence.
Wrap your balls with its void.
Don’t let up.
Hone in on your constitution
harrowing on enlightenment.

Keep this frame going,
that house,
as much as you are able
nonstop.
Sit and rub your head with it
in that’s how you grab your head,
cherrying in on that buzzing sound,
the mentor.
Lock your head on it
the way you hold your head
clapped down on it
not in thought process.
You’ve got location.
Cheerio.

I’m a piece of work let my tell yah,
and so are you.
Yet I believe one morning of walking out of my
100 meter tent
and being enlightened.
Gosh dog bears,
make believe it’s fine for a couple of minutes,
I can’t see anything
than another
hallelujah.
Who’s callin’?
I just got stung again by the world.
That can’t be it;
we’re costumer service.
And a lot of bullshit underneath.
It’s a cute conversation
there won’t be any answer from
until I get my whole hair-house fixed
and nothin’
slings outrageous fortune in front of my face
and makes me gawk at it
like a sea of troubles,
and to be enlightened or not,
hell, to be Gods on earth,
gets put out of the pasture.
And the world has eyes,
bended ego,
Ms Dorthy Mae,
and they’re yours.
I don’t see the yardstick
in graduation
moments,
step in a podium
bigger than on stage,
and that’s the revelation of enlightenment,
what dogs me about goin’:
the absolute necessity of it
is not a conference room,
and I’ve shorn consciousness
away from the world
in every little bitty minute
I’m not countin’ anymore,
so deep
I am its anchor.
You know what I mean?

Here’s some medicine:
snuff a cellphone in there.
Hello how you doin’?
Let’s step on each other, shall we?
I thought I’d invite you in.
We’re musical.
Okay, you’re hikin’ the trail?
You’d do my a favor.
That’s what you need,
a conspiracy theory.
Did you know eight monkeys pulled roots off hilltops?
You don’t need any lore
to believe your own spiritual path.
A direct experience of consciousness gets you there,
and can you know that’s its major feature?
Sitting there,
there has to be
you change consciousness.
It’s not a pile of knowledge.
It’s not even what you eat.
It’s your direct experience of enlightenment, savvy?
And then over the head we go,
but not necessarily in that order,
not at all.
I’ve counted all around you.
You’re not blasted sleeve niggers.
You will take both of them.
You will give them
to a world on fire.
This is dynamite shit.

Joseph!
Mary’s comin’!
And they gave birth to enlightenment—
standin’ in the refrigerator
until this cock-a-dottle-doo.
You really believe in science?
You hear that?
The beating of wings
and a startled cry
as if unlocking of doors,
lift you up effortlessly over your head,
like a fountain in springtime.
How do you know that car?
It takes you beyond enlightenment.
I’m standin’ in the sun,
don’t you see?
And my dog’s diggin’ in the dirt,
coolin’ her place to sit.
Luna I love you,
it’s my concentration on enlightenment
half the time.
Simple wares
the scene in front of you,
and my God you love it there.
Takes you up,
you know?
Takes you all the way into the sky
on a clear day.
There you are.

The simple scene in front of your face,
really, really big,
those simple noises too.
You got that Houston?
I’m a sudden epiphany
of you are the world and me
indeed,
the tall hat to enlightenment,
the bakery to Gods on earth
you and me.
Know it’s coming
in our fruition,
the long and short of it
all around us
everywhere you look
unhanded glass.
The world’s your eyes you see,
gettin’ somewhere.
How do we hold this far?
Every minute counts.

In the frying pan,
into the fire,
you learn to abide both.
Coincidence
I have to work tomorrow
the fireplace of Samata Horn.
It’s a picnic table
accompanied by children.
It will be children
I sit with Luna and read,
and our whole house continues
the station house of enlightenment sees,
and that’s over the heads of children
in the ignorant mundane world,
all spiritual seeking.
Take a child and let them know
there might be somethin’
they can really sink their teeth into,
unmolested, unharmed,
not involved with tech,
that will really turn them on
they have such a capacity for it.
Squirrelly children—
I dreamed I was a winnebago,
lucid and all that;
I had an experience of consciousness
some cake over my head;
I fell silent and still.

In the throes of excitement
no video game can match,
no cartoon can render,
that kid continues.
Smile for a better world,
and just let me do my job,
if we’re good.
Are we good?
Goddamn I’m good.
Now then,
I’m on the mountaintop with you,
if you’ve made it up the trail yet.
See there?

It’s my favorite spot,
hanging out with your own safety brakes.
You guys take an ambulance there.
Did you jump the shark?
That’s my baked bread.
I’ve been in this window a long time.
The lights are out
I think every time.
I just prevent enlightenment,
with drawstrings.
I can afford it.
I know where it’s at.
I don’t believe in myself getting there.
I have a stumbling block.
I’m hated by the big city,
loathed actually,
to a degree unbelievable.
It’s way out of your league
I’m apologizin’.
I’m so nice
to my brother.
Wait awhile and see
if you get a little hungry
for what there is more of,
the inspired poem,
for what there is more of,
the spiritual substance of man.

I don’t grovel at your paycheck,
but I can’t see myself enlightened yet
the hatred of mankind is so deep.
I’m in the middle
of you hate me,
no matter how many cities I’ve put on,
have deep my spirituality goes,
how I bring the world in from the cold.
Your worth gives me everything,
and if there ever was a nigger I am he.
I don’t buy at the temple,
like an undocumented worker
so wrapped around all this hate
you are being conditioned to feel,
like a bastard child
excusing himself
with his divinity sleeves,
I’m not allowed to go there.
I’m beautiful.
Just look at me.
I’m not from outer space.
I’m wide open
in your delivery room.

I’m hated by the crowd.
Now I navigate enlightenment with that.
It’s not picture perfect you see.
I will overcome man,
oh foolish man,
and I will carry us all down the road.
Do you hear me sweetheart?

We live in such shared times.
The technology
fools you then
it’s gonna give you what’s worth.
In heartbreak,
not in substance.
I am a miracle reader,
and I challenge these times with substance.
I challenge these times with me,
a poet on your very ground,
a man you just love to hate.
I’m not Mom and Pop Wood.
I’m not spitin’ into the wind.
I descry Earth.
I stand up and be counted.
You will automatically
not count me as sum
you have your crowd-finger on,
and you’re stuck in your own mess.
You’re too ruined to see me
a vehicle of thought.
A combination
of herd sour and stickly pride
shows you to me
a reader
goofin’
at this meaning world
you wanna show your family to.

Just come ‘ere.
Never mind the vinegar straights.
Try again.
I am a poet for these times,
your long lost brother.
Give me a nod.
Give me a thumbs up.
Give me some sort of direction hence.
Give me a high five.

Now I must introduce my Valentines.
The FBI’s on board,
a cop show.
This usually stinks.
Usually it’s just cobra.
This is just cop getting milk,
whether they want it or not,
despite themselves.
They can’t find crime.
I’m not into them,
but we’re on holiday.
They would love to get their hands on me.
They are not the love of humanity.
They’re stubborn and mean,
have badges that give them license to kill,
and not just Blacks.
I’m dealing with them.
They hate me.
They haven’t got me marked yet,
but when they do they’ll let me know.
It’s not in their hands it’s in God’s.
They’re real confident.
They bring humanity down.
They’re tigers in a henhouse.
They can’t get any better.
They can’t even see themselves yet
and how they harass humanity.
They don’t help it.
They’re full of vice,
and they are self-righteousness on the nosebleed.

I’m not looking forward to them.
What you’re lookin’ for
is not in your books.
It’s not on the table.
It’s not out there
for you to prosecute.
You can’t pin it on me copper.
Hear baby,
I will remain a free man.

Fuck this I’m tired,
and I’m not up for grabs.
You’ve heard my vision speak
predicting the future
and showing you the bottom of clairvoyance,
the bottom feeders reading your poetry
your poetry can read.
Maybe
it’s all out of balance,
and I haven’t seen a cop one,
and they have the power of God.
Yes they have.
They think they do.
Oh but they think they do.
Now who’s bitin’ the store?
It’s you lady,
or a man,
full of hatred and mean,
but it’s not all of you in the crowd
dear reader.

Who’s bitin’ the show?
You have somethin’ better to do
than read poetry
you want to report the police to?
Oh you egg,
life after death will see you open
on the wrong side,
put there by hate.
Can you gather oneness?
It’s what we’re about.
Don’t destroy the world with it.
It’s not a concept you can eat,
and when you find yourself on the other side,
it’s oneness that separates the men from the boys,
I mean put you where you need to be.
All our notions of right and wrong are based on oneness.
It’s the cherry tree.
You violate someone,
there’s the other side for that.
In oneness circles
you take up their hand
and make up for what you did,
sometimes in harrowing experiences.
Death can get real creative, you know?

How long this takes
depends on you,
but this is not a fast land
by any means.
There’s a waitin’ for your supper,
who you hurt you did.
You have to understand with your life’s blood,
oh pardon me your undead hands,
you gather oneness you see,
that oneness is the center of life,
even in death.
You share identity with your partner,
anyone you’ve harmed or hated.
The self-righteous suffer here too.
Now what do you do with that?
The great spiritualization of mankind
that’s inevitable on this Earth,
you get there on the other side.
It’s what we’re there for.
Now tell me Houston,
how natural is enlightenment to the other side?
Oh come on get down to your sleeves.
It’s rocket science there,
and all the regret you have
you didn’t do it here.
Do you trust the other side?
You must.
It’s your passage to further worlds
beyond the stink.
It’s your passage to Heaven to be quite honest with you
you are enlightened.

Oh my God we can keep goin’,
but we’ve grounded being
where it propels itself upward,
and I’ve given you the formulas for life
Shakespeare left out.
Captain,
you made us wonder over life,
its grand design,
its idiosyncrasies,
but you left us high and dry
in what you were there for,
the higher life.
A spiritual experience never shaved your beard,
nor fidelity to the word.
You had this magic inside you
you turned for profit right away,
and you mixed muse with your dirt
for applause,
just made up stuff.
I have some idea
of silence.
Anyway,
right here
I end this poem
good fellow,
all along the roofs of man.

How nice and sound that is,
the spoken sound of the uttered word,
pushin’ conversation to its zenith
a revelry of spoken English.
The common tongue,
the guttural sound,
it’s so delightful ain’t it?
Roll it on your tongue
in annunciation.
It’s a present to be read aloud.
It’s a rhythm to be read aloud,
the natural sound of speech,
my comely pen.
I was tryin’ to reconcile
the availability of time
with your time in it,
a Shakespeare rocker-board
with the price of poetry,
shit like that.

Now you’ve done it,
have reached the poem
where it beguiles the page
someone slept on my face,
slept on my foot,
you must hear this poetry.
I got here just in time.
Well, I’m exhausted.
I’m keepin’ up.
It’s hard to keep up
in an avalanche of word
I can’t make stop,
because it’s all around me now
Shakespeare deep.
He is at that place with me
that
we invent language on the fly
and brighten English with it.
He isn’t very friendly
in pages
of very thick verse.
He was playing on his court.
He loved here.
I don’t add up sums,
lines the shimmerin’ of trucks,
but I get the job done
here comes
off island
into another poetry meaning entirely
said this island.
You lift my job done,
okay honey?

How you propose to freeze frame,
is that fake news Donny?
Kids are all over it.
Sooner or later
it’ll happen.
You know who cares
I can move humanity that way?
Can I give you some stars
wonderful reader enjoyin’ the poetry
because it’s here?
Thank God for Planet Earth, hey?
[‘hey’ spoken in the voice of Bad Bunny singing in the Super Bowl 60 halftime show]
What a Waco, huh?
All over the police academy
cops need to get their right guard.
Did David Koresh molest children?
It was a religious fervor,
how they just wiped out the David Koreshans,
killin’ their kids.
This is known fact now,
and if you dispute it you’re a liar
Mr. and Mrs. Policeman.

What are we doin’?
You’re not pourin’ over my poetry
to find broken laws,
to do any protecting.
You are just beside yourselves
that I’m Daniel,
and you’re Daniel,
in the lion’s den,
reminding you of our oneness burgers,
reminding you we are one,
and don’t get eaten.
Somebody has challenged society
in its moving parts,
and you can’t get at ‘im.
Somebody stands there free
from the guns and uniforms you are
in social concepts only,
in yellow jacket.
Dangerous ideas,
I’m wavin’ red flags
to change the status quo.
You guys are its greatest defenders,
and you don’t care.
You just have bullish notions of policing people
and keeping people in line.
Are you startled?
See yah on the other side, copper.
I’ll wait for yah
to help me out.
Now I’ll take my toys and go home.
See you later alligator.

See you soon,
pubic mind?
The public mind isn’t that far,
the ideas that change society.
Somebody will get away with the machine,
tearin’ it down.
Your childhood sprawled out
on the pavement of time,
don’t you know that you are a shooting star?
[sing line, “Shooting Star” by Bad Company]
And that’s where I come in.
I can help you with that.
This is from this rifle
making eyes at everyone.
It’s got land on it
and a whole bakery pie.
I’m not shootin’ anyone.
I’m liftin’ up the race
in my own backyard.
I see you with guns too
puttin’ your two cents in.
It’s the climate for it, ain’t it,
on this net Hogwarts
where everybody’s a poet
or a landmine.
I would like to get out of these chairs
and not have my poet bruised by net,
but that’s the landfill today
you don’t need a permit to dump in.
Everybody can write here,
so far.
Well so long,
I’m approachin’ yah with a poem, you know,
that was written in bended shares
after I posted it the first time.
Kinda gets yah in the sleeve button.
Adios.

Hey rendezvous,
this surprised me too,
really did,
okay?
These are the longest children in years.
I’ll start spendin’ money
that ample time has given me
far from boiling man.
Did they say a paycheck?
A collision course in reality gave me,
and I’m a ticket outta here
to greener pastures
before long.
I’ll live in a cabin in the woods
far from the maddening crowd
on mountain slopes
(can you help me out here?),
high rivers in time,
and I’ll bring my dogs
to be there with me of course,
and that’s the last stadium
I will count to on earth.
That’s the one I’ll ever be
the poet of.
This one here,
hello,
from Fort Myers Beach,
not welcomed at all,
wined and dined and then spit on actually
for the poetry I write,
for the spirituality I do.
This is a conservative place,
hating the other point of view,
downright vicious actually,
and that’s their baseball.
Now tell me is it yours?

In a help on your ego flyby
I’m arrangin’ cans;
I know the price of rain.
I can get down and dirty in the wood.
I’m ten miles tall
when I’m not small.
I’m bubblin’over.
I’m lickety-split,
and I know how to play cars
arrivin’ on time.
I’m a breezeway.
I’m your lunchpail.
I don’t dance on thin wood.
I hold your hand
real nice,
although not in certain language.
I will come back tomorrow
with more verse,
not to bowl you over,
to be sincere to you
and hope.
I can managed springtime
all torn over,
and Mr. and Mrs. Man,
I’m good to you.
I’m good to the whole human race,
everybody in town
coppers included;
we just need them to see themselves that’s all.
New questions arriving today,
how does that feel?
I have hunger
for the decency of man.

A Hail Mary pass,
just one thought around the house,
you’ve seen the pictures.
Everybody question name,
but we’re clear light toward enlightenment,
every single
Godzilla I got.
There’s a group of people
just came here,
just came here again,
We’re at a station now.
They hate me larger than life,
They can’t over I’m alive.
Will they come and do that,
put me out of commission?
It’s a poisoned tree
they look at me from.
What do you think?
I’m not the bacon?
I’m here pedestrian?
Fuck you city slickers.
I’m not talking nails to you.
I look you in the eye and say that
I don’t like your city ways
at the water fountain,
but I do mean the best for you there.

I am the Devil’s show
reinventing books?
I’m an angel’s wear.
I am your delight
in fashion of God.
Chim chiminey, chim chiminey, chim chim cher-ee
[sing line, “Chim Chim Cher-ee” from the movie Mary Poppins],
look I’m Santa Claus.
Do you get it?
I’m the word on fire,
all in the fields of God,
and I’m this little man on time
in his delivery.
How can you make that snakes
you chargin’ public mind?
I’m on fire
with love’s talisman,
really on fire,
and I know the white purity of love
in my sink now.
Do you?

Luna puppy,
let’s just look at this town.
Come on Luna don’t yah
wanna see it?
It was the weather it was turned,
and after all,
we’re flanked by cliff and deep.
Kinda gets yah in the guns doesn’t it?
Let’s just get this party rollin’.
I saw a Christmas tree,
the lighting of the party.
It was a savior.
He got ended I guess his name was.
I won’t even say the One’s God.
I require the One.
Good night folks.
I want a really good audience
who need a good field,
a hand-grade,
on the right stuff.

The world is this big conservatory,
and I’m puttin’ my foot in it
and my dog’s paw,
right in the sunlight,
for another round of applause
of course not.
I’m not makin’ money either,
or getting likes
on telephone poles.
Can you know purity of purpose,
where the whole world’s hangin’ in the balance,
and you put your life on the line,
to bring in a new society?
That’s what I’m talkin’ about.
It’s not a mess,
my delivery.
I’m walkin’ on magic air.
In big agreement
I hold the world’s paws
a manner of coincidence
I doubt your sanity could hold.
The things that pass me on the road,
it’s manifestin’ my thought life,
and I’m comfortable there.
Larger than life
I have moved my life’s room,
and you can ground me in the dirt,
but I’m not finished yet.
Oh eyes on me,
that’s not for my glory,
though I’d like your pettin’
and not treatin’ me like some bat outta hell.
I want your respect
you tell kids we all get.
Alright I’m done.

A new world order,
that’s bullshit.
These are not control angles.
These are not command angles either.
Oh my God the history of freedom,
it’s not in liverpools.
It’s not even on vice.
Freedom hasn’t occurred yet
anywhere on earth
in societies.
It’s a dangerous term.
Laws don’t govern you,
nor your own impulses.
You’re free to king the air
with spiritual junction
a soul inside devise.
This is not a spiritual ego
or you never do no wrong.
The freedom to change,
the long and the slow of it,
that’s got to be given.
That’s paradise
when our will’s in union
with the good of all.
Can I show you that mountain?
Fine, I’ll wait
for the whole to arrive.
Great goodness I’m done.

I’m in the theater you know,
finding breakfast,
tall and good and shine,
with my dog
in sudden reindeer shuffles.
She’s the delivery agent
brings Santa Claus to town,
and she’s beautiful,
ain’t she?
Eight million
smiles and laughter
matched her with me,
and the kids went crazy
just a pettin’.
Lickin’ surprised babies in the face,
like a dangerous Rottweiler,
lickin’ you right now,
she’s a love girl
all puppy dog.
Man I love my Dog.

We’re waitin’ for a greater dawn.
Bring it
the love for our children and dogs,
not one sting of abuse there,
not one iota
of mean to them.
Cats lovers beware,
that’s the love they get too,
and that’s the human family
we attend to.
The great buffalo herds,
we bring back
with loving care.
You see where I’m goin’ with this?
Now that’s the story.
So long.
We hold our breath.

Free of abuse,
that one,
we give this even to our rocking chairs.
Is that so hard to believe,
we’re good to everyone you see,
the whole planet,
starting with me
hollywood?
I’ve jumped the shark,
again.
Over the rainbow?
We’ll see.
Goodnight Houston.
Goodnight Billie.
Hello Tommie,
and goodnight all.

Free footage from the main thing,
free from alligators,
nuts on wheels.
We’re high and dry,
and that’s not a place in nowhere.
It’s not a garbage dump either.
We’re high on top,
and we’re not wet with things that sting us.
I’m arrivin’ there shortly
kittens.
I’m not the mailman.
I live every word of this,
and that’s what you look for in bibles,
the people are speaking themselves
who done it.
It’s not chronicles on bended knees
you have to obey.
You’re saved.

I didn’t escape the new passengers.
I didn’t even get caught,
but why would wood go away?
To make it through the Night.
We have to change civilization.
We have to become Gods on earth,
men and women.
We’re pointing there now.
Yes it is just unhand your bacon.
We’ve got larger than life sheets.
You know your dreams are bigger than you
sometimes,
and your thoughts
it’s gotta be better than this,
and your kids’ smiles
in the delivery room
bring hope into the picture there is not,
and when grandma dies,
and you know she’s not gonna rot.
Come people look up.
Look down.
Look all around,
We’ve got a larger Earth.
It’s evolution’s springboards.
We’re goin’ somewhere.

I’ve used a phrase ticklin’ I know,
but we will be beyond the human
in divinity shares,
immortal like all get out
here on earth
in rainbow bodies the Earth puts out,
and when it wears out,
we put a new one on
in ceremonies rich with time.
Gods on earth see ye,
with the power to blow your mind,
and distance doesn’t scare us anymore,
nor the inside of each other’s hearts,
nor death,
because it doesn’t come.
Merry Christmas.

Do you wanna know what’s’ comin’?
It’s the real thing.
It’s where we’re at.
It’s the way home,
and I’m not figurin’ speech.
We’re bringin’ home here,
where we came from,
and I’ve seen it with my own two eyes,
the God I am up on high,
over the head some degrees,
where we are now,
if we see it.
That’s the experiential consciousness.
I mean that’s gonna dynamite.
We experience ourselves down here now
puppets in a play,
actors in a movie,
players in a video game.
The on high comes down,
and we have overhead experience,
transformin’ the nature,
not just enlightening the being,
and we go up,
all prepared,
and meet ourselves on high
comin’ down to station us
just a little over the top of the head,
stationed out of the body,
which is just seas of bliss
and concentrated force,
ready for anything,
and we’ve joined the hemispheres
and become That you see.
Kinda gets yah right on earth,
doesn’t it?

I’ve just spelled out the wheels
to greater consciousness
you’ve never heard of.
It’s not aliens inhabitin’ your body.
It’s not devils either.
You’ve finally become yourself,
the truth you are
beyond time,
the divinity you are
that’s been disguised all along.
I’ve given you the formula for eternal life,
and it’s not a drink you wear.
You become enlightened,
then we’ll see
you empty the vessel
filled by God.
What’s there not to like?

What’s there to be mad about
this poet has given you?
Are you with me?
You will see this in death
at one time or another—
you got a self on high.
I’m here
pullin’ up the tarp,
openin’ eyes,
and now you know where those balloons went.
Why should you believe me?
Gauge everything I said
I was in a movie
that had contact Earth.
You will not believe my story
of adventure
and harrowing experience
and just dumb stuff too.
I’ve gone from one pole to the other
in where you meet the world,
and I’m educated too.
I’ve got my beads on,
counting my deeds,
counting my life’s experience,
to show you somethin’.
That’s life in the fast lane
spiritual experience brought me,
a whole adventure
of meeting worlds.

You have some treats.
Well, look what happened.
You believed me.
The cops don’t get it.
Wearin’ a badge,
oh you stupid boy,
protectin’ the public,
you think that’s killin’ people
and bein’ a horse’s ass,
you’re a cop,
and the public’s over there?
I never wanted to be a cop
after the Green Berets.
I wanted to find out why we had Green Berets
and nuclear bombs,
what I rode into Germany
in the Cold War,
but I didn’t find that out in university,
even learnin’ Classical Greek.
I discovered you,
with a capital you,
goin’ inside and findin’ myself
the eyes of the world.
The rest is history,
I mean follows suit.

Okay are we good?
I’ve asked this before.
I’ve piled onto it now
the rest of the story.
Yeah sure you can find dirt,
but finger your own anus.
Look at self-righteousness differently.
It really is a crime.
I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down,
no public that’s not good.
I’m just tryin’ to get by here
in unexplainables.
There’s cops around.
Now let’s go over it again.
Gosh dog I’m sorry.
You hear me now so long.
Welcome to the adventure.

I’ve seen glimpses, not the whole share,
but I’m certainly round about there
the understanding I’ve put on,
flowin’ through my choices now,
through my go ahead.
I’m lively now,
on the baseball,
and I grow in experience every day.
That’s the main thing.
Now where does power of consciousness reside?
Where you go about doin’ your day,
what you think about and feel,
and I must say I’ve shared Savitri there,
and there’s no way around it
power of consciousness takes time
to turn it on your day
the spindle
to the eternal now.

I’ve coughed up my needs here
and offered to dog the bleeding place.
I mean I’ve sacrificed my needs on the altar of life
and just go with it, you know?
I take care of myself in the meantime
and don’t beg.
I fill my desires with springtime
not letting them rule me,
and I throw some out.
I chalk it all up to science
to get the job done,
transform my nature,
and do you call with that?
I hold the divine’s hand all the while.
This is a relationship in sleeves.
I love God, okay,
the Lord of life.

Now that I’ve put you there,
in seeming religion,
what are you gonna do about it?
Here’s the deal.
God’s not founded in my care.
It’s not a belief I put out.
I have experiential experience with God
I cannot deny.
He is more real to me than you,
and I’m with you every day.
Go figure.
I would loose ends
if I didn’t know God was real,
lose my fucking mind.
My God this is deep waters,
and I’m just this little thing on existence
in siren God,
wide-eyed and totally captivated
by my master’s attention.
So I sing you these poems
to get over it,
to process it through,
to know God as comfortably
as I do know you.
You’re a little moron like me,
and you don’t have God’s eyes,
playin’ with me.
He’s a hell of a ballplayer.
Dagnabbit,
there he is looking at me again
through your eyes,
and contradictions abound.

This is all field play.
I have my moments of silence,
but we do get big I want you to know
and can handle the looks of God.
Are we a team player?
And that’s my lowdown with you.
I’m team sports,
not some island
fixated on itself.
I love you guys you bunch of pussies
to fielding God.
Wham! I’ve said my piece.
The long and short of it is,
ah fuck, I’ll keep goin’.
This poem will never end.

I’ve said what they all worship,
the balls in the sky know,
the great cosmic beings whose names we know,
bless their little hearts.
They pave their road with our blood,
but uncle us along
in short sleeves.
The cosmic paradise,
tantalizin’, you know?
You got that right
when you are a field going beyond.
Give them their do,
those powerful motherfuckers,
those compassionate beings,
and set your eyes on God
no attributes name,
who leaped out of the One singlehandedly,
because a necessity was God
to bring creation forth out of existence,
existence being God.

Now I’ve said my notions
and brought you all the way to God.
We begin there,
all the way to paradise.
Do you understand creation?
We walk
the way I hope,
towards great horizons
that come down and aid us
no longer
pull each other apart.
That was your sweet meme.
That was your immediate supper.
Let’s love one another.
Can we do that?
Can we honestly please?
You’re human
I love throughout the day.
You went there before first light with a cousin of mine,
the inevitable poem
a poet
has let just splash up upon the land
the whole word’s worth.
Great the story goes.
Get our act together.
There’s somethin’ comin’ this way.
I think it’s beautiful.

We need to restart civilization,
and now we’ve had time
to call out a good cop.
Gotta learn peace, okay,
not violence.
What do you prepare for?
Where is your attitude at?
Where are you going?
That’s the law of kindred spirits,
and I chose not to be one of you.
Shazam!
I was a weapon.
Can we get out of this?
Would you just hit on my heart please?
I hope you been a cop
I’ll rhyme with you dog.
They’re waiting for you
peace officer.
I felt secure
in human accuracy
an officer of the peace
provide.

Don’t you want to widow in?
I made it my life’s blood.
I set my life straight.
I became a responsible man.
I honored the pubic,
not minding it wearing diapers.
You get me dog?
But I will tell it like it is,
using real language.
I will do that.
Great balls of fire!
this is a lively mood,
on mountaintops.
It’s my report card,
and I’m all over myself
doin’ it.

I’ve brought you to the bus,
the real thing.
Yee-Haw!
I’m Texas,
where I’m from,
from your part.
I rode horses with the US Army
and steadied mules
a muleskinner,
a six-gun shooter.
That rodeo circuit we did
was in Texas.
Went to Washington
and inaugurated President Ronald Reagan,
was an honor guard at his funeral.
They called it his inaugural ball.
I squared off with ole Iron Eyes Cody
masqueradin’ as an Indian,
me in my horse cavalry blues,
spurs a jinglin’, saber a danglin’.
Kinda get yah in the sink, don’t it?
It was the tear
he said,
drunk as a skunk,
as was ole Bush Junior,
they said,
when he came into the hall.
I don’t even think the press give ‘im a look.

I was there
the only Green Beret
in Kennedy’s funeral,
and I’m really sorry he died,
but I’m usin’ analogies.
This was his graduation from high school,
I mean college,
round about Brown,
John F. Kennedy Jr.
The whole Kennedy clan was there,
and I was his Green Beret representative,
but they gave me not a twirl,
if they noticed me,
remained stuck up.
It was just an accident I was there
attendin’ my step-brother’s graduation,
Steven.
Not really an accident at all,
if you measure this in world gaze.
It was Kennedy signed the green beret into law.
We owed him one.

A vagabond,
and here’s the breeze:
I met the world there,
travelin’ from country to country
not a penny to my name,
for a whole number of years.
Money talks,
but it can’t hold your hand.
The world did that,
as conscious as you please,
when you’re lookin’ at it,
have thrown three sheets to the wind,
cast your bread upon the waters,
and it’s real nice to yah.

I was there,
in India 21 years,
and your character,
your decision,
but in India it can change.
Real deep sadhana
brought that all around me.
I worked on it,
and love’s the key to change,
and now I’m meetin’ you
all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,
ready to be your partner
in world change.
I’m not tryin’ to get your goat.
I’m all over change.
I’m right here,
thank you.

I’ve swept all day,
and I’m movin’ out,
as soon as my money arrives.
I’m movin’
away from here,
Redneckville,
the conservative state.
It ain’t no place for a poet
radical human consciousness.
I’m in the floor,
and people walk on me,
but hey,
who’s countin’ guns?
I’m gettin’ outta here,
which brings me to the end of this poem
long ago.
You listenin’?
I’ve just jumped time.
Whew, we made it.
We made it.
Do you get my listenin’ rose?

Now tell me I’m bad.
Do you even know what good is?
How bad is it?
We’re miracles here.
Now tell me I’m not American.
I’m headin’ out again,
insurance money comes in.
I got hit by a car.
Social Security’s not even enough for rent.
I’ll work,
if I have to,
in whatever job.
I believe in work
to earn your keep,
but barter’s fine with me,
and I did it for years.
Just got a place to sleep
and my needs met,
no cash,
and my needs are simple now
you can imagine.
I’m goin’ to some secret location
you won’t know about,
mountain woods.
The woods is my people,
and I like to be in ‘em.

I grew up in a clan,
not just the suburbs,
a small family farm
deep in the woods.
I studied there all my life.
The Dukes and the Kings,
believe it or not,
theys mean people,
whipped kids and hate your neighbor.
They think they’re Christians.
They falsely accused me of something
and never spoke to me again.
Forty years back,
I mean that was it.
Can you get a load of that?
It hurt like the Dickens.
I don’t understand family,
and I don’t believe in it.
It’s burned me.
They never look at you again.
Now my sister died off,
without sayin’ a word,
just stopped talkin’ to me
years back,
without even a how do you do.

I didn’t understand it,
still don’t.
I didn’t do nothin’ to her.
I’ve got this sign on my back that says kick me,
and it was there when I was a kid,
and many did.
Adults were real mean,
women elementary school teachers horrible.
I separated from other kids
in middle school.
‘Fore that had few friends,
but I was a best friend little boy,
and I’d loyal those.
I took up a Bible in school,
became a Jesus freak,
Jesus Person if you asked me.
If you wanted to be saved,
I made yah kneel down with me in front of the whole school,
durin’ lunch recess.
That way I know’d you were serious.
I got along just fine,
always a crowd around me,
tauntin’ or wantin’ to know about Jesus,
and I had my defenders.
I went to a different church every night of the week,
if I was able,
suppin’ up on Christ in the suburbs,
or at least what I thought was the Christ,
or at least I made it my habit.
I was on fire.

You know what I was runnin’ from?
I can’t even tell yah,
but I just put my Bible down at 16,
abruptly,
and went to the woods,
as much as I can,
became an avid backpacker
as a teenager,
and of course I joined the Green Berets.
Now whatta you got?
You got a man on Planet Earth
ready for anything.
I been schooled, you know?
I’m not just a poetry writer.
I’m a poetry doer,
and I’ve earned my time on the net,
didn’t just get a blog and start humpin’,
but I don’t wanna put my poem there.
I just have no choice.
It’s an avenue you see,
and the gatekeeper’s you,
millions of you,
billions.
I‘m a needle in a haystack,
got this sign on my back
kick me,
and you’re gonna find me, hey?
Leave me alone,
if you make it here.
You wait for me
to pull somethin’ outta my hat:
you know you’re here,
the audition in time
that casts Planet Earth.
Am I right?
Wow, the program,
it smarts
banded by elevators.
Fuck you no I don’t mean it,
but you are a bunch of pussies.

Am I offendin’ everybody on Planet Earth?
I don’t think you know your ass from a hole in the ground,
most of you,
and meanin’ slips out your winda,
and you think it’s smoke.
You like the choicest stuff,
like animals in feedin’ time—
fodder.
I don’t think a one of you is a lover of humanity,
not when you’re put right down to it,
and you have to sacrifice
what people think of you,
or the Law might come after yah if you did.
I’m in that position:
without any support group.
Transgender people,
recallin’ society,
gettin’ upset about your name,
you’ve thrown me down the river,
or the likes of me,
without even a second thought.
You are not the love of humanity.

Now I’m dynamite
down on Main Street,
but I’m not prickly pears.
I love the people that hate me don’t you see?
And I can do that
and wish the best for them.
I want them to be alright,
not hate or be mean to anybody,
and would you please wake up to that?
It’s killin’ humanity,
the hate we have for one another,
and I have nothing brighter to say
in the urgency,
necessity of today.
We’ve got to get there,
love your brother,
love the likes of man,
love all humanity,
the trees and the forests too.
We will be destroyed if we don’t.
We will get killed.
We will die.
Now I’m countin’ you
the leader of this program.
Don’t be a pussy please.

Let’s get down to earth.
Let’s get the word out,
and you can pass out mine,
as pretty as you please.
I’d like that.
Alight hoss,
on the road.
Alright people,
let’s go,
destination love
everybody you look at today,
and love to learn the ones you won’t.
In our emergency they are legion.
Now pick up a gun and shoot everybody
because we don’t.
You see the connection?
Of course not,
and that’s why I’m here.
I put out the blindness.
Can you see that?
Really?
Very good let’s go.
Come on let’s go.
Really let’s go.
There we are,
mountains in time.

We are mountains men.
Among niggers I am chief.
Oh God hallelujah,
can you really stomach that?
Luminous fate,
I bid you farewell.
The poem is on the morrow,
and it’s not the marriage of heaven and hell
or Emily Dickinson’s far, perturbed shore.
It’s immediate and pure,
and it’s got love count your days,
a great big smile from the Heights,
the eternal ray.
Splendid,
a luminous mouth
rides all.
Places now,
we got to go
you salty dog.

I boiled these steaks.
She’s eaten here,
hello,
and I’m usin’ a pronoun for myself
she is also women.
Now that’s luminous close.
Now that’s
our boiling point.
Listen to her.
We have a long way to go
successful living
hero,
that way,
just another
unification,
male and female,
that all humanity rides,
that all humanity knows
in the best possible places
our kids grow.
We’re in the pan now.
Let’s turn up that stove.
Do you know your other half?
Do you let it grow?

Sick said it,
how he got well.
Hit you with it
in these poems’ fine clothes.
Harm’s End,
it’s a race start.
Come on people climb in.
I’ve described time and abroad
on your fingertips.
And he knows it
on his.
That was him
a great wonderful world
in bulletproofs.
Aw, shucks,
you and the world,
that’s me,
when we’re good together,
no one hates who,
and no one
destroys kids
and hurts them puppy dogs,
and I give Luna
a big round of applause
and scratch her behind the ears
till kingdom come.

What are you lookin’ for?
My money.
We just sent you
almost 20,000
in this boilin’ over poem.
I’m fittin’
the library.
It’s empty
what I live on.
It didn’t last long,
my last paycheck,
and I gotta get outta here.
Can we talk about these things?
Now I’m pealin’ off the walls
the necessities.
Kinda gets yah in the teeth, don’t it?
A poet’s gotta eat.
Who done it?
Fine I’ll pay for my food.
I’ve gotta answer the door.
Now explain to me
how that ain’t work.
I just wrote
the world come in,
and I can barter with you all day,
but you don’t hear a word.
Is this the end of the world?