White supremacy for mayor uttered in Wilmington. They just chopped people to pieces. The injustice lags the sky. I don’t believe it happened. I cried when I heard about it. Can we play that again?
We do it every day, not massacres, although they come along. We put people in power that hate Blacks. We give White supremacy a place at the table and call it by other names. We don’t know how to count it. There isn’t a racist person in the state. Even a White supremacist will tell you that.
Do you know how they feel, the Black people at the table? Of course they’re racial gatherings. What do we do with their anger? We don’t know how to handle it. It’s hatred for us, and nobody gets better that way. Nobody even knows what’s goin’ on. We are stirred up by so many people, and the unseen lends a hand.
Not all good people are good. A Kumbaya feast doesn’t do any good. Racial unity, we have to address our sins first. We have to see them there. It’s a feelin’ we have around Black people, even with our smiles on. I’m sorry will you get the broom and sweep the house? I’m gettin’ at colored folks in the drawing room of White men. We face each other not as equals. Our attitude hangs out the beekeeper. They are inferior to us in our American bones.
These are racial wounds we spit on and light on fire in the complacency of man. How do you get rid of this? You shove it down people’s throats a woke system. That did a lot of good. The White supremacists took over. What do we do now? We arrange guns and burn down houses. You think this’ll work? We just break apart our nation and cause a lot of hurt.
Racial aren’t the only issues in the sky. There’s livin’ with each other bein’ true to one another. We put our cap on and show genuine to people, because we feel it, the confusion of everybody in the hurtin’ of life. We know we’re dumb too. We have to protect ourselves yeah, but we take our hats off to everybody and give them a little bit of us if they ask.
How do I get this across? It’s a squeeze test. Most people aren’t genuine. Some people want to hurt you. You have to know where to step. You can’t carry your heart on your sleeve. You have to know when it’s time to get out of Dodge. You are generous but wise. I can’t give you the roof over my head. I can’t empty my pockets for you.
Now we come to the meaning of the Earth. It’s not racial reports. It’s how we all survive. We get in with each other to make the Earth work, and it’s bigger than life. We are bigger than Negroes and White men, bigger than any gender we wear. It’s across the great divide, our true life and purpose.
You hear a Daniel say that today. I’m in the lion’s den right among you, and no one has eaten up my flesh, but I can feel the breath upon my door of some dangerous shit. Can you hear me I’m tired, but I’ve opened up humanity in myself, and I’m doing it again. Will you sup with me? Will you even try?
Speak lotus, these were reminds me these were come up in these poems something of Wilmington has happened here in Pondicherry. It’s race related. I’m not Indian. A parenthood of oppression blights this land. I’m standin’ up for my boy. Free him please. Don’t let this tragedy go down unnoticed.
The details would scare you, and I’ve named them in other poems. His name is Nithish, S. Nithish, and he needs help. I sit here flabbergasted at the amount of lies that make up this story told to policemen and child welfare and so many other people.
They put their Indian first each time and the rightful law and order of the land that made their parental rights supreme, the underbelly the lie that India will not wake up from. Children are crushed by their parents, abused and beaten and forced to give up their lives for school. Hours of tuition at night kill their playtime, and disorders such as dyslexia and dyscalculia are unrecognized. They’re beaten for bad grades.
This is right and proper in India. They just took my boy behind the woodshed and killed him for parental loyalty, all in the eyes of the law. He has lost his personality, had his identity crushed. What this has done to his character will put him in his father’s shoes, a man who has murdered four men in Pondicherry targeted by his gang, on bail now for attempted murder that never went to trial. The case has been overlooked. This is standard procedure in Pondicherry if a powerful gang is involved. People get away with murder.
I have to stand here and watch all this happen to my boy, and I can do nothing. I’ve even been to the press and contacted every major NGO in India that deals with child cases. I’ve threatened hunger strike, but the divines I look to said no. I’ve written poem after poem, giving these circumstances, but the social conditions of a blog put likes in my hands, put readers, but I can’t arouse the crowd for my boy and get this matter looked at by proper hands. I can’t get off my blog.
Is this stupid, to talk about this injustice, to tell you my boy needs help. I am just a Black newspaper of 1898 this happened at Wilmington, a whole town overthrown by White supremacists, and no one believed them because they’re Black newspapers?
The New York Times and the Washington Post, and all the major news, came to scoop the story. Met at the train station with the royal treatment, the leaders of the coup put them in hotels and told them lies they all believed: Nithish is in the hands of his parents where he belongs, and the Indian order has been restored, the natural order of things; his father’s an outstanding citizen rich now in business, his mother a gentle soul that would never harm a child; we have him in school 11 hours a day because he’s acting and don’t want to study; we know he’s smart, and this is India, and we make school the center of a kid’s life for our national pride. Buy me another drink aldermen, and I’ll put in our newspaper what you said.
Would it alarm you his mother paid bribes? Even to the authorities. Okay, okay I’ll shut up, but I’m a Black man in a White man’s world, and no one listens to me. Can you hear this? It happened in Wilmington.
The offices of the Daily Record, a Black-run newspaper, were burned by a White mob during the Wilmington massacre of 1898. (New Hanover County Library)
Can I fly my hypotenuse a jersey on existence, I mean cans? This whole world is a big block. Everything’s in small measure. There’s no room for elbows. I can’t get yah to change your mind there’s a bigger party than this. Your little room is your little room folding existence upon itself. I wear those sleeves too, but I get out and abroad, you know?
We are lifetime wears. It’s a stinking ship. Just ask your neighbor you hate, or all the money you make at the expense of other people, the information you give that ain’t true, the self-righteousness that drives your car, and all your thoughts bent on death for those who’ve crossed you. Am I leavin’ your telephone number out? I don’t think so.
I can name names. Even the good on Earth do it in. Would you love that bad person to death? Would you get out of your family role and bring a stranger to dinner to sup with your kids risk and all? These are the roles of the One in flavorful chairs, and I’m usin’ analogy to get at device. How can I tell you you sail too the shape we’re all in? Do you see our pumpkin? It’s a safe haven for everyone.
We are littleness meets the stars confined to one room. It’s a prison house of escape. We can go so many places, with narrow openings, and it’s a secret from the crowd. I can’t prove to you I’ve been there, but you hear that sound now. I’m tryin’ to get bigger Earth, so we can mean somethin’ with our lives and not take a stranger to death.
I grapple with existence like it’s my magnet, all this poem to pull you along. We’re going to get there you see. It’s only a matter of time. It’s larger than wood, than our feelings’ meanings in time. Our thoughts can’t get there except on some spaceship that’s blasted off from Earth bigger than any thought you’ve ever had. We’ve got to bust out of our shell in the pains of life oneness denizen models. You know I’m countin’ score.
Now let’s get on with it. Can I give you a blog as a purpose of a universe? You’re not going to believe it’s in time, the whole meaning unfold that meets us right where we’re at. Harm’s End I’ll say it again and a collaboration with the unknown, and some Twitter eye in focus. I’ve did it. I’ve grasped the universe right in your pocket. Start with this poem and go from there. You will arrive at the universe I guarantee it. No one has done this before with their hand on the button of life.
I’ve surrendered you to abstractions. Do add-ons care? May we hit the role in the machine, get to very deary wood. I’m a pencil outside of myself. I’m not the me generation. Can you generate outside of yourself? Can you get there? I am the center of everything, and as much as we see this we don’t. We judge by selfishness a bottle unto ourselves.
Can you put yourself in the murderer’s shoes? Can you be someone liberal if you’re conservative? Can you be that priest that molests kids if you’re survivors of incest? Alright can you just be your wife if you’re too tired to deal with the kid crying at night? Can you be your neighbor, and they need you to take their kids to school, but you’re late for work? Can you be the guy at the grocery store that’s asking you for small change or at least I see you smile? Can you be your coworker late again, but you don’t tell anybody? Can you even be your kid, and he’s been caught with his pants down not to your sudden fury? Too tired to go to work, we can’t identify with people. We can’t look outside of ourselves.
It’s all the rage be offended. You know what I mean dear heart? You know what I mean expanded notion? If I haven’t hit home examine yourself. You’ll get better.
Now where do we play school? Getting bigger than ourselves in life’s little room. Watch those reactions. Give some pride to other people. Is that too tall for you? It’s what we’re here for in the basics of bein’ human.
Oh my God this mind stinks, and we shoot it down with bright ideas. Did we reach anybody? Only the choir. Oh my great big beautiful humanity we’ve got it all wrong. We heart with each other. We expose ourselves to vulnerabilities of feeling. This is the prize in the room: that heart’s safe to be with, you know? It’s what they remember you with, you know?
You can land a hypotenuse all over the freeway to capture the sun’s rays geniusin’ your way to a household name, but those around you know your love, how your heart is around people. We educate the mind, put it first in school, put it only in school as what matters more than anything else, and we are heart matters with each other. The rule and scale of mind is not our hypotenuse. It’s not where we get along with each other. The heart owns the whole show. It lifts us up with each other.
Can a poet say this? It’s where we abide in time. It’s my wake up to you. It’s where we meet in verse, and you hear me. It’s our meaning with each other. God rest his soul. I’ve done all I can to reach the heart of poetry. I smell the four winds, and I do hope that danger’s not real. Know how it feels to have said too much from the party line where the authorities don’t let you, not even in poetry. So long today. I hope that’s not all she wrote. A case that does not take square time became an artist. She finally took the picture that brought it all to bear. Can you identify with the wife?
Up bring everything. Where’s my boy? A resident’s assembly bringing towards that you. Who lived off the grid? What exactly did you mean by business? They think it’s me the wrong piston, this wagon: I can’t find my dime in society. This sucks and I want out of it. We’re on you like stink on shit— the great big arms of society. We don’t let you get there to utopia. We damage everything.
Now let’s go to the bubble Auroville, an experimental town city. Great Scott! society couldn’t leave it alone, molested it like a little child, and it got taken over by the Indian government way back when but comin’ out of the woodwork now, just as pretty as you please. Now they’re stuck with nothin’ to do about it. A patriotic Indian government has taken over, and they’re throwin’ out non-Indians who disagree, makin’ the international city Indian.
Spirituality’s the powder keg. They don’t do it right they say. They quote the Mother and Sri Aurobindo all day without understandin’ what they’re talkin’ about, without knowin’ those words, with the fervor of a religious persons who bring Auroville to its knees surrenderin’ to the Mother said. This is the apex of the new city. It’s lost its charter there. I’m a mechanic, and I’ve got some cars to work on, the Auroville sedan and the world school bus. I want to show you the method of the spirituality. I have some things to say. Annie get your gun. We might stay together, anyone wantin’ a new society, anyone wantin’ to change the world. Annie’s gonna shoot us all if she could. She don’t let social change, and she’s government big.
I begin here my revolt, not with gunpowder or any type of violence, not with protest signs and blockin’ streets. I give you the ideas that will change the world. Funny huh? it’s just little ole me. I want my boy to come home. That’s this can you hear me? That’s the child I’m pullin’ out all the stops for, I’m riskin’ my life for, to rescue.
A black man did it, killed all these people in control of mankind, without takin’ a single life, without firin’ a single shot. He got rid of their ideas that control us. He blew up the machine with the ideas that make the world. Keep him open answering questions.
There are horrors, huh, right now? [vision of a ghoul-like creature popping up from behind some trashcans that I kicked, as if it’d been hiding there] The tremblin’ must be rewound by it. You’re almost taken. There is no revolution anymore. It’s found you. This is hotdog nigger stats, your consumer prices index. Am I racial string theory my dear? Interracial. We are all following the machine, reacting to its wares and memes. Nigger got you didn’t it? You all jump in the same hoop, even if you use that word to call people names.
We are a standardized machine, no glory holes. We take our partner to legalized sex and punish those who don’t. Can I get at that spirit of the machine? I’m not sayin’ sex traffic kids. You’re all in a bottle you know, even the one who breaks all the rules. You’ve been put to the test, livin’ off the grid like you do. You define yourself by society. Just look at the books you read. They’re society bound, even Henry David Thoreau or that guru master you read. You’re reading other people of what you make work in life.
Can we get off the stairs? Can you table God? My God he’s big. Can I rewrite you a blindin’ every minute to the creation made today as we speak, nothing standardized nothing made all this past that led up to now? It’s a fairy rose, a shapin’ flux that’s puts together our minutes seemingly aligned with the past. A great big school of thought this that brings the universe to bear. I mean the universe is jumpin’ out at yah right now, created this minute don’t you see?
A settled creation no. Created now of world maker’s art. You have these pistons it fits into, and you grease your days and nights with your own content. You are a happening in the Void, a mechanism for a movie graveling existence into nothingness so that we can be. Do you have your hat on?
When science reaches here it will see God guiding stars from above and gathering forms in place, but it is fairy rose, the whole damn show. In this existence is real. Its rises God, climbs out of the Void by lighting it, and we make up its lives. See you soon at the reunion of stars. We do not come from the Void. We are the soul in the machine.
Now do you see miracle? The soul rises in the machine. Are you startled? You should be. That’s the bulwark of creation right in your hands. Now take a child and whip him again. You know you’re risin’ stakes. You don’t see the significance Earth? It has a wonder-weft in it. To your mom Nithish. We have the autograph books for Being, big beautiful Being.
That’s why wood’s together, those two grapplin’ with existence proper, the boy that makes you uneasy, the man that makes you question things, they find inner muscle. I’ll have X call you back. You know he’s waiting. Now for some childhood trauma. I met the Void in its dirty underwear. Outside of the world I disappeared from Heaven in a toddler’s nightmare. Buried alive, I had existence piled on top of me. I rose things that jumped out and rescued me. Fell down in the Void a toddler with inner journey secrets. All our arms point down be careful. Hell has a wide mouth. Light itself got me out. Can I call your name? Can I name the world? Caught in those wheels myself existence rose, right in the middle of the sun.
Now I’ve seen where holocaust comes from, saw the monsters of the deep and the origin of all evil. I felt it there. Trade me for secrets, and I will light what can’t be seen. Come down to earth with me, and let’s get out of this hole leading little lives of quiet desperation not knowin’ where we’re goin’ or a get there to get there too, just bein’ fishes in a plastic bottled sea in the pattern of the days. Even if you’re rich or the president of something, we’re in the Void. We are almost buried in the machine.
What do we do with these minutes? We standardize them, make them in line, and we do this by society’s test in the basics of us, no matter where we live. I’ve chased you there, all the great thinkers escapin’ the machine. I don’t think you can be free in it. Here is the test now in a sudden poem. My God that works. I can do it. Fine, I’m in my underwear.
Can I show you the Holocaust again in time, the cruelty of one towards the other, the diabolical meanness? Will you change that way and be kind to people or even good, or will you hate the abusers and turn off the TV? Will you see this in your own house with your own kids, forcing them into labor camps of school, making them obey you or else, giving them your name not theirs, making them fill society’s roles and cutting off their souls? It’s a holocaust of denial. We make standard kids in a standard room, and we can’t get over it don’t work. Even if our kids cure cancer, they haven’t made humanity bigger than itself, they haven’t evolved us further than ourselves, they haven’t seized the wheels of time and discovered us.
You live in a box you see, a prison house of weft. I’m tryin’ to find a key to outside where the inner splendors lay, but you’ll just shoot me if I’m wrong, not in my theory in my moral with boys. Look at you. You will deny the inside in the moments of this poem because I can’t talk about it I’m not worthy? We all live in the yellow submarine. [sing line] Coffee sir, I think we’re on the brink of change.
I’m off right now. These are world fireworks of every cloud in the sky. I’m a loud chitty bang bang. I arrest you and put you to sleep. I call your name at night. I’m bigger than sin. I’m your guacamole. I take you to the temple at night. I really get into your stuff, and I can mislead you too. I can really mislead you. I play with your consciousness like it’s on fire, and I wrap it around the gods and the name you call home. I’m puddin’ in a bucket. I show you things unseen about yourself. I fry there. I’ve got a lot of gas to get you to the supermarket and back. I can change your life if you let me. I can show you which way to go and where you must not go. I’m a conscious mechanism in dream and all vision states. I’m your inner life where it touches ground when you’re alone to yourself. No dammit I'm not Donny. Jeez, representative think, will yah?
I’m great big and I’m mean. I mean when you first open me, for a lot of people. I change the world into its starlight, and I’m all piss and vinegar in them hellholes. Come open me I’m a gift of inner seeing, the lost art of humanity. Wanna watch it grow? Right before your eyes in this poem. This is what you’re off the grid for, to get in touch with your inner dynamics, to reopen miracle and you.
You’ve got to consciousness to get there and study there like you’re in school, where to travel in dream when you wake up in them, how to use the paralyzed trance to leave your body and your room and see if we share a field of consciousness, how to bake there in any inner keeping the questions of existence, of who you are and what unfolds time.
Off the grid do you hear me? No, you can do this in a valet parking lot, right in the middle of society. You don’t have to wear shoes. You can just get goin’ anywhere you find yourself stuck on Earth. You don’t have to have any titles to do this, no special education. You can just be you opening the doors of the inner consciousness and discovering what’s in there don’t you see?
Samadhi will come along eventually, and you will abide there fishin’, even in the surrender mode. We have paths to cross. We’ve got to get to know time. We have to see who we are. This is in the middle of the road. That's the dream maker. It gets you out of boxes, and it’s available to every man, woman, and child, even in the animal kingdom. I’m in; how did you get down there?
You study dream. You look for the doorways in there, the spiral force that takes you, the swing, and the fall down into the well of soul. There is enlightenment too that you can slip into for a dream wear. There’s overhead experience. You focus on the inside like it’s your business. Soon you will see the future in dream, where you dream every night some part of tomorrow. It’s in symbols weird. It will blow your mind. You will explore consciousness then so fortified. I don’t believe in magic. You will begin to. Just open the inner doors with discernment and kindness and a watch out about yourself, and see the world change.
You don’t jump in boxes. You call out my name and send money to this number. Now you know how a fraud sounds, as I notice your red tongue. Do you wanna be a teacher? You don’t need a guide. Go get your calendar. I’m going to build a new house. That takes time. Inner red riding book, that’s your splashdown. How to fly to inner report the eggs that it needs? Symbol after symbol you will encounter. It’s the language of the Spirit. I never thought about needing one. We haven’t gotten to the interpretation of dreams yet, but in our little dream company we cracked the code. Start with Episode 1. It’s a podcast silly, but it’s free.
I don’t have a guidebook to give you. I just have me when you get down to dream. I have evidence it’s out there, the rediscovery of mankind, the great big rediscovery of all our good books on survival, how we get along, and where we change for one another, share that field inside. I’m bigger than my room. You just watch. The table where we’re all planted the beginning of the inner revolution. Listen to this poem there. It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature, and it’s right here we beat AI, with our own inner television. I see. I need a new pair of shoes. And that’s great.
Earth meaning on a whole, the meeting of two red lines, you keep your outer life goin’. Don’t lose your job, and if you take your kids out of school, make sure they can function in society. Don’t give them your life. Let them find theirs. Outer life tuned, you’re now an ensemble of the inner too. You don’t get lost there. You don’t even make it your life’s work. It’s your education, how to handle the outer life and where to go with it, ultimately how to change the world.
You don’t get led astray by your name among men. Can I exemplify you? You let your art do that. It will fly before humanity the flag you’re supposed to, the take place of you art. These will come from inner wares, the more inner, the more valuable. You’re not doin’ this to preach. You wanna find yourself inside to get into that outside the proper material.
You’re balancin’ life the inner wares too. You don’t cut one short. The inner and the outer play along and begin to dovetail. You can do both at the same time. That’s advancement. That’s where it starts, you outgrow yourself, you’re becoming the bigger you are, and it’s diamonds, but it’s not wear around your neck. You meet the breeze humbly and sweetly, without acting. Your self-honesty has reached sincerity. Come over here. You’re in the drawing room of God, and great shoulder notions ride your room. This is the attack plan of a real world revolution. Sweet, ain’t it? Sweet and kind. This is the attack plan of an inner revolution, and all you have to do is open your eyes to inner beginnings. You got that right?
I’m gonna explore and investigate consciousness. Bottled up inside you your destination. See who it is an overhead experience. Now you know you’re there because you’ve reached this nameless origin, the Person that you are, the origin of all your lives, somewhere up there in the sun, greatly over your head. You can see everything. It’s too big for you to remember when you return to your little self. My God this is big, and there’s no mistakin’ time. You’ve been outside of it. You’ve been bigger than the moon, the tall country of the gods. I’m ashamed of this? You don’t even know it’s there. You can’t count the sun.
Now murder me for it, or get your persecution gun, like you’re doin’ now in Auroville the city of dawn. I’m an outcast there, not now about little boys, where we begun. I’ve made people mad by seeing things the community don’t. I’ve engaged people who wear special status in spirituality or somethin’. They glide in my room and just spit there. Most won’t respond to me, and I’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest I believe.
These are little people. What do you do with them? You come out of your holes and shine. You don’t hide yourself no more. My boy’s at stake I’ve got to do this. He needs my help. Will I be here tomorrow? I don’t know. I’ve got people on my case. I can disappear anytime. So I show you the sun and where creation comes from. I give it to you all free and without regard to my safety. Great you say, big deal, are you trying to impress us?
It’s the wrong time for this. Everybody’s show and tell. I am just one in a number oh isn’t that interesting? But here in Topeka the flies are a buzzin’. [sing this and above line, a song by Loretta Lynn] I’m in danger here. What’s a body to do? Why open more poetry of course, high priority encounters about the transfer of the One. Then you draw the line he needs rescued. I want my boy back.
Spoken word poetry, till I get it, I leave it alone. Wow, it’s left alone. In case of good poetry break this glass. I just sit here and discover, letting the word explain itself in the giving of lines and in the hurtin’ of the world.
If I show you the pain will you stop it? Will you even know it’s there where you feel your pain? Oh no another Holocaust movie all about bein’ numb. I can’t give you this star-glow to ride the world on its tongue feelin’ people. I’m not a robot I’m free, but the price of my freedom is your pain, your wellbeing I feel like my own.
It’s shoots me all the time, or it gives me stars. I’m there with you in the delivery room of another bucket of world today, huh?
I see through all these sleeves of world maker’s art, a world upon world in the moments with mine, a conglomerate of worlds of this group of people and that, of this person alone, of all the mini worlds that make up this world that we call Earth. Can you see that simultaneously with your own? I taste you there. I know you’re there.
How do I communicate this to you so you feel it too like you have your children’s hands in your own, like your best friend’s smile, like your mother’s love? I don’t die there, but I question God all the time and Sri Aurobindo.
These are terrible times, and they get ready for tomorrow terrible too, with a past just as terrible starin’ us in the face. Let the good times roll, and my God they do. How sweet life can be in its gathered moments, how manageable, but why does it always add up to this: life is not a bundle of joy; life gets us in corners and does bad things to us. Can you understand that?
Why does the world go on like nothin’s happenin’, like it’s free and easy and clean, so standardized? They scream on the news bad news to an audience of normal, of tie your shoe, of everything’s alright here, ain’t it? Not in every bubble. So much quiet desperation it has been said.
Do you know the rovin’ hellhole? Somewhere on Earth at any given time they’re eating each other alive. It’s the worst place on the planet for a moment. Hell swallows them whole, unbelievable cruelty, and nothin’ to redeem them. Goddamn that stinks.
Alight I’m blessed. I live in a little pocket of warmth and forgiveness. I have opened the doors to humanity in the stadium of my room. I ride there all day figurin’ you out. I take great thoughts to the skies, but I must remember I’m a low man on the totem pole in your eyes. I do nothin’ here that grants you my room, that shows what I’m doin’ larger than life.
A poet of world standing I am not. I’m a poet among many thousands in the availability of today, and no poetry comes along and wallops your head or smites your heart from my pen. I just spit in the breeze. That’s the trash dumpster, and here let me give it another poem. I put my dogs to sleep, and I wish you goodnight.
All united and happy they think. Come here Luna. Get your head… [vision of Luna Rottweiler putting her head in a hole in the ground] One doggy at a time. Oh fuck I’m on Candid Camera. He’s just gonna go for it. Well then the surprises and bad secrets, heart is ruined on the same thing: waging war on the Fourth of July. What’s the significance of your dog growing? Into a likeness of you. What I didn’t have: put every slept of it complete. My God, they should be spilled.
What is it this time? Dr. Milk Powder— I haven’t called you; I’ve had enough, is that the plan? You know he’s lost his boy. They’re travel uneasiness way to stutter. Don’t you see? Alongside with it it’s real. You know his boy’s called not in awhile. Suffer this, and it just last of people’s hittin’.
Do you like people? Is this fruit juice? Why is it we always hate somebody, run there all the time? You really enjoy this life don’t you? It seems all fair winds. Need to pull her pregnant with the grenade. It will get you every time. Just look around the world. Just look at your neighbor.
Do you know how we get along? Do you know how we get through this? We don’t be monsters to each other. We don’t be mean. We try to be kind and giving in our painful moments. This is overcoming the world and getting better at yourself. It’s a love angle, and we need more love. That house definitely, where you put your hat off, where you sit around. Love those people, the people you’re life-in’ with. You don’t know how much this counts.
It’s all an effort I know. We have to overcome ourselves to do it sometimes, but we have to give this baseball to all the standin’s in the world, so we can have a world that works. Is that so hard to believe?
You know the world is full of holes. Even the divine is negligent and will crush you to make the world, will just stand by and watch. These are not pleasant times, but we have to endure them, tryin’ to find joy inside, tryin’ to give our children a good time.
What else is there? Spirituality’s a pole we lean on. There are surprises in consciousness if we let them. There’s a world maker’s art you can see. These are deep down inside, past the underwear, past all that gets in the way. There is strong inside, even after you’re shattered.
This world’s a dream maker’s art, so much more than show, but this is a common dream we are having that the significance of dream shows. We’re living out a representation telling a story, and all our lives add to that One involved, and all our lives keep going. We’re where time loops around itself a great big mechanism of being that has definite boundaries that we can cross and get out of here after the whole has been complete. We’re goin’ somewhere together, and yes some escape before time, but they’ll end up on another world soon.
This great big ship has a destination you know, something worth time, something bigger than ourselves and is ourselves at the same time. I’ve gone out of the universe you see and been myself on high.
Stupid me, I describe experience like you’ll believe it, but you can kill me and it’ll still be there. It can’t be erased from time. I’m a nobody because of it, liftin’ up my room for you to see. It’s got crosses on it and monkey bars, because I’m just like you, but I’ve been given a breath of supernal air, and I need to tell you about it. It’s affected my vision. I see the world.
I’m just like everybody, but I don’t live like you inside. I live with you and inner vision. I get rocked by joys that fill my noon the outside world doesn’t bring me. I feel oceans of sadness I’m not in the world about. I feel existence pain, and when I walk outside, drive my bike through the town, the countryside, it’s a wonder-weft of miracle, and I feel every person I come across. I see the One inside, and all the many representations surround me. I can’t get over it.
Now I’m here with another poem. Let it ride the day if you read it, because it puts us together if you escape, because it’s here we learn to live again after your world has been taken away. Can you see me now? Can you hear?
Gonna go to the funeral of my/one nation above all. [two words heard spoken simultaneously] This is politics. Nobody knows its price. There’s no exclusive zones. You value humanity more than your national individual, or your race or peoplehood, even your religion. Sounds impossible now. It’s the only way to survive, equality at its most basic point.
Fundamentalist Christians will have a field day calling this the Antichrist. The number of man don’t you see? 666. And Jews and Moslems cannot exclusive each other, and the resistance to that will go to the sink, but you still be Jew like it’s your life’s blood. Americans cannot be Americans and only Americans. They must include the world. India cannot see her greatness above other peoples when she can give her spirituality, definitely universalized. No nation or people will ride the others like they own the planet. China will have to settle down and give us good engines to wear. This is flower, not put the engines of the world to her use, and North Korea will be no more. All will unite in peace.
This is the human ship some waves from now. Can’t believe it, can you? We’re on the brink of this today, where ideas ride time, where ideas enter humanity as the clothes we wear. It’s comin’. It’s not even in our minds today. It’s not on the news. It’s a radical idea everybody’s scared of, nobody can promote, neither in the press nor in the government, and science is busy with atoms and other small fare. They will not bring us together. Academia, well, this is a pipe dream, and increasingly they’re controlled.
Well how does it get in? Intelligence— we put the human being first or die. I’m talking about people’s upon the Earth, purely political wears. I’m not talking about ruining existing structures or eclipsing God with man. I bright and shiny your day with your humanity comes first before any other kin. We teach that in school, give this to our babies.
You hear me now? It’s a price we wear, gettin’ good at as we see our survival depends on it. We start today in the maker of a poem where I put my foot ride: humanity ever coming first, in my politics with mankind, in my behavior, in my think about you and us, in where I meet you today.
I’m riding God as the one I wonder at, as the one I want to please, as the one I want to be like, as the one I want to hold dear above all else, as my principle keeper, and if I put humanity first, the human being over any category of people, I am bright house God wear, and the more I know God, he’s not an exclusive zone. He can wear all pronouns at once and is the love of humanity in my heart. Where do you think this idea comes from?
It comes from God one notion humanity. Past you’re early. Noosphere, everyone’s looking for you. In siddhi, that’s where I sit, and I just made an inner poem. I made some mistakes where we meet each other. I will answer for it like this: let’s put humanity first.
In the middle of humanity, in humanity’s living room, I can get this across to you in thought wears. Come to my room the thoughts that are out there pullin’ humanity close to itself on the frontiers of thought. I’ve pulled humanity close to itself. I get in humanity’s room today.
Is this a great mixing? I don’t think you understand me right. This is the center of identity in human terms among all the peoples. It’s a movement to grow this in humanity where you raise your children. It’s not a boiling pot humanity, pull your pants down and let everybody there. You still have national borders and respect demographics. You’re just more human about it. You give it a liberal hand, but you don’t overwhelm a culture with immigrants. We will get good at making their lives better where they are, but we will not refuse them to move.
Can I champion human causes? We need to improve the lives of children in Africa. You can’t get better infrastructure than that, priority child’s lives. Loved at home and treated brightly, that’s the food they wear. Do you see my cultural dynamics? It’s the number one priority, meet those children’s needs. The world doesn’t wanna to be overwhelmed with immigrants comin’ out of Africa from the hungry states. She was havin’ a baby gettin’ bigger than the rest of the world.
You wanna see if I can fix it? That’s the reason you don’t let population growth get out of hand. You let it stay in check. I need to ask you somethin’. Who writes the news? We are not listening to wisemen.
I don’t like everybody; is this everybody? The warm human being giving rise to the warm human being, it’s easy if you try. We have to educate people about children. The rocket science is how they treat the world. It’s amazingly possible to stop slapping children and beating their little behinds— no physical punishment anywhere on the planet. Get rid of this nursery rhyme. Treat it like sexual abuse in that it has to be stopped, in that it’s harming humanity. You would not kill people for it or treat them like monsters. You wouldn’t even hate them. You would understand the rule of abuse: they just get mad and hit.
Their behavior’s preconditioned, and who can control themselves when a spell from the unconscious takes over? Can anybody? You’ve never understood this since the beginning of time, why laws don’t work, why the killin’ hasn’t stopped, the rape and plunder, any ole bad behavior. It’s unconscious process, and it has to be stopped through recognizin’ its process. Can you do that?
Education will ensue: stop being monsters to the stupid monster in everyone. You don’t hit a kid, that’s rule number one. We start at the beginning, this one Krakatoa. We get in there and educate the public like our lives depended upon it. We help kids when their parents hit them, or nazi them around, or any harsh treatment, and get in those parents with the strategies they need to survive/cope, [words heard spoken simultaneously] forcefully, tactfully. You can’t abuse them in turn, but you make them know they’re hurting their child.
A license to have children? We’ll get to that, a coverin’ ground how to have children. The very first thing you mention you don’t hit them, and I’ve left a school behind, a whole row of poems, the specifics about them genitals. Eat it up.
You’ll know where the safe houses are, the ones comin’ online, the ones makin’ it right with their children. They tell their children they’re humanity before any other row. They tell them sweetly, kindly, and without all this pressure. This is your identity kid. You’re a human being in the politics of bein’ human, who you are among the group. Sure your people are important, your race your tribe, but sweet humanity my dear, the whole is who we are.
Do you see this trampoline? It can be done in all existing countries, in every household on the planet. Can you get at humanity that way? Will warm slowly, but when the idea's out there it’ll catch on. Let’s get after it people. Don’t you wanna to stop climate change and do away with genocide, and take a big bite out of war, and how much to gender will be solved when everybody sees their human being and not just a gender walking towards them? Okay little human being, you get started. Okay let’s ride.
That old door we can lock it. We can lock it by taking a rule and applying it to behavior. I will never understand why it keeps rising. It’s good fiberglass, but when you bump it it breaks. It’s only doable in finding your own fine seals baby. You really test the waters there, overcome behavior with a song, “I Love My Child”.
Listen, listen close, back to the tree, that shadow tree, that tummy I don’t give up. It seems like this whole thing is evidence there’s so much to the hitting of children, and there’s a whole lot we don’t see, but always remember forgive me and go save my child when you’re in Africa. That’s really what he wants, what they want, parents who beat their children: they need help raising their kids. They just don’t wanna admit it. You can control yourself. How do you do? Could be good company comin’ in. Those are the helpers you see. It could be divine speech.
I’m tired of standing here with supramental orders that can’t even be looked at. / Comin’ off a blog, you can’t get that heretic. You get a certain group of followers and that’s it. My fingers count the readers of these poems. You can count to ten for most posts. How many morally outraged people are there? On them days there’s a spike, the people lookin’ for the gun. I’m a rose in a cabin, and never I get out of that cabin and out into the public’s heart. I press controversial material, and there’s a lot of fear there.
I have not been allowed to speak I come from that social group. People are fear there. Come to the concert all your children in that they come first. I’m a child lover. I am a child lover that knows how, and God has taken my hand and shown me how. Will you dance with me?
You can’t film a psychological drama. They’ve upped the ante. We’re all weirdos. We don’t know what we’re talkin’ about. Thankful, be thankful. Somebody’s made some sense of all this, and I’ve done that expertly and cleanly. You can see it now, and here I am humanity giving you humanity, a toe to raise your children telling them they’re humanity, a radical idea to change humanity into its kinder parts, most noble. We need this to survive.
We find each other on the limits of sacrifice. This is no fools barred. We include everybody. Alright ship let’s go. Let’s get on with it. It’s a glory ride right into our business and actually, physically change the world. Don’t a waste it. We got this down.
We’re gonna tall this in and go for walks with the greatness of our children beautifully down the road. I’m in a compartment blog. We don’t remember. It must be a huge one. You’ve slept in a ponytail before. This is woke at its most basic part, where it means somethin’, and that all of humanity rides. It’s possible it’s possible, and gather to me now all the action when we walked in Heaven together, when we lived in bright beautiful homes with no strife. You don’t believe this I’m sorry/I know [phrase heard spoken simultaneously] gathered here into your one life, but we’re guardin’ plans at the altitude of Heaven meets Earth, and all that Heaven’s gold’s here. There’s where we start to ride.
It’s a recipe of children maker, and it’s always been in our hands to use. We’ve just had to get here at the opening of the Earth. You won’t be surprised this all came about, we made it, future read this. The cosmology of plans fulfilled looks so inevitable to us, but a cliffhanger in a half this was. For example, I almost didn’t make it, you know? I’m the preacher of the word, the choir I sing to, and I’m the congregation I start. Gettin’ ahold of yourself, it’s the tooth fairy about livin’. Hold on, I must tell yah I’ve really done that, and it wasn’t easy. Come on let’s bake this mile. We have a world to change. Let’s get goin’ people.
The constructuralist my poem. Do you know what I’m talkin’ about pedo squad? I’m lookin’ at you in the German theater. What they do with your mayor? Did they fry ‘im?
He downloaded images of against the law right there in the town square, that one special crime that kills everybody. You know I’m talkin’ disease. Do you know what? You’re the infectors. All of society is.
It’s a child’s jewels. It brings up so much stuff in humanity. You can’t get over it, that they have them, that they find pleasure there. It’s the fundamental rule not to touch. How did this come about? Guarding secrets.
You feel nothing I am sure seein’ a kid at the train station. It disgusts you what people do with little Johnny’s toy. You would rather they be shot, the child I mean. What am I sayin’?
Let’s go back in the history of children. Prehistory, caveman days, I think it ruled society eat that child’s lunch. We couldn’t get out of bed for it. I mean we could not evolve, develop, into let’s find ourselves there, an ordered society that did not eat itself. Murder and mayhem blinded us.
Do you know we came from there? A child got woke in a human animal band. It was a woke party. It was infant orgasm, and give them some plant medicine. The mother and parents were egged on in dream and vision from other spheres to give us human consciousness, raw form only; development came later.
Did one person infect them all, like in a reverse Planet of the Apes? I don’t know maybe this was a garden, and a whole tribe was involved. I think we started in one place, but the procedure could have been done anywhere where the apeman was involved. If this started us, kids got eaten alive for a million years.
Morality was born. That’s the significance of the Jews in early history and some other tribes who got wiped out, but we see their trees today. You know the Gods came along and employed circumcision and moral rules to reduce us from our children, especially the male lead. This is the child machine. You know they are a leaven, the people of the Jews, but they were not the only ones. I’m sorry; do I count their sins too? Do I count my sins too?
We stopped eating our children as morality evolved. You can see in primitive societies, the non-technology ones, a whole lot of touchin’ goin’ on and histories of things got worse. Now what do we do with it today? Stomp it out like fire, like every day.
I’ve taken you on a journey into parental eves. Get intimately close to a kid in naked wares, in that loving embrace, the younger ones especially, and you might wear desire a time or two in the littleness of that child. You’re not a pedophile. You just hit intimacy as it hits us, and if you don’t believe what I’m talkin’ about, get really into your dreams where that kid shows up naked.
This is natural desire that scares the hell outta you. It makes you hate the pedophile. It makes you hate him mean. You can’t see this. You don’t want to. I can watch someone killed in a video all day, and the makers go to jail I don’t. What’s with child pornography? I just told yah. I can watch movies about killings, all kinds of crimes. I can look at horrible pictures of anything I wanna see, but see a picture of a naked kid, increasingly, not even hintin’ at sex, and you’re liable to go to jail.
The armies we have to prevent it, they’re poisoning humanity. Prevent child abuse? Everybody says it’s getting worse. What are you doin’? Ease up on those controls. Go for the image makers. Try to restrict access, but don’t hang people for lookin’ at it. You’re going overboard, like you do when you’re reactin’ to unconscious process. Can I show it here? I just did.
I had to work in a cave last night. I’m afraid. Bring me back. Wastin’ the water when electricity was comin’. [sing verse]
Can we be expendable? I don’t even know if that’s the question. Do we just acquiesce to everything, ride out time like it’s a bump in the road? I feel my larger spheres pent up in here, and I know I’m expendable.
I don’t know how to find time. I’m just a hole in the ground in any largeness I make. People just want to get me for it, counting victims in my pen. A few loyal survivors have the guts to hear me and not have me taken off.
I just wanna do away with it all. Do you say that, overwhelmed by existence, how it doesn’t all work out, how you go home one day, and people have put a fence, blocking your access road, how you get slapped for kindness and sincerity, how you can’t even trust yourself to be good when your free will’s compromised by the shade from black night?
I’ve put on this flesh I know. A body of man I’ve put on. I wear existence’s sleeves, and sometimes I think it’s a punishment. I just want my boy to come home.
How do you know a poet’s worth? They remind you of yourself where you touch ground. They grab existence and almost show it to you. They tell yah where you’re at when you’re on the moon, and they will lay with you in hell if you’re sorry of the pentance you’re payin’. I’ve grabbed a purgatory slot. Hear my worth as I try to find my time today.
Who you be lookin’ for, someone with words better than me, someone who can grab the times today and get all Tennyson on yah? I’m alone with Shakespeare you know, grabbin’ his hat and puttin’ on my day, all sound and fury. I get all field on yah. I life this to you. I'm not an idiot. I’m a Neptune in the history of fishes.
I can get Barbra Streisand. I can put on symbols like they’re lunch. I can really tag you in the sound of these words when they’ve jumped off a cliff and pulled a child’s pants down to show you they’re lost there and grow up fighting any sticky business that puts you there.
I’m about a wheel and chain on the road to time. I want you to grow up and give chances out on freeways. I want you to be kinder than you are, not as clannish always in control. I want you to be better than that, not even giving me a word I’m supposed to touch.
I’m your poet today, like it or not, that brings poets’ meanings home. I’m Jack Field. Test my word in life. No edit summary.
I remember now. I built a mile high stadium. Stupid show, look what Hookah did in the center of your program. We’ll always have that voice.
I would murder in words anything I tried to say. We have our long lists of hurt that’s been put out there. It’s how we tax the world. It’s how we feel better about ourselves. Would an actor see that?
And if I reduce it to a role, do I bleed responsibility? Do I reduce it to an abstraction in the places I’ve bleeded reality, the places I’ve burn?
I’ve grabbed the sun, live on a height of thought and life I write about all the time. I see the representation, the symbol we all are. It eves my day. What then?
How is it possible to hurt someone and not know their pain because you’re a writer of sky dreams? I communicate with the dead, have them all around me, each little life I’ve lit on fire in the bucket of intimacy.
I don’t think the possibilities of healing surround your room. You are not stark walking the symbol. You know the outer lair. An inside all day long, you don’t approach that.
You don’t know what it’s like to love the world in those places you’re sorry, breathing those words all day long to a you know you’re heard way beyond man. I don’t think you’re aware of the price you pay when you become aware of man. The pain you feel humanity.
But on the cutting edge of this is who I make it up to, a little boy growing in time. He represents you. He represents the world’s eyes, and I am there for him.
We can take joy on the Earth, sweet, innocent and kind, holdin’ our humanity close. It’s not all a razor blade. We can get sweet on the Earth, and when you get home, you can love the world like a little boy, and your representation grows.
We have everything to do with being creatures on a role planet. Our time in space blackens our time in thought. I promote myself spits in the wind. Art and thought, I wonder if you feel anything derelict. I’ve perished this bloom. Since everybody’s here, except any majority of people, I might as well clear my throat.
What do I hog to you today? I wanna pull existence out of the hat, be right on the ground of being. I want you to say, "that’s me." I put it in flower pots. I sit here all day and fight it, our anonymous with each other. This is stadium big.
We are all points in space too big for our britches. We see ourselves huge in other’s eyes. I’m talkin’ about ourselves. We feel and think and be the center of any room, so big to ourselves, and even if we are not the reason everybody’s there, we see reality that way.
Take us off the megalomania lists. I’m just talkin’ what it means to be human, or the dog in the corner, or the ant in the windowsill, and you know that plant think? It’s just not corralled its self-aware. It just does not pedal to the end of the room. Those thoughts aren’t in motion, but you’ve got a plant big there, everybody in the room.
How do I toll the star-gate? We are stuck on one world in our rounds of thought. We cramp existence here. Oh my God the experiment, would it be the same in every laboratory? Can we count existence a cheat? Does it handicap worlds, universes, or does it just stage things properly?
Do you know you’re blind, deaf, and dumb to what you see on the inside of the person sitting next to you, or leaving a comment, or submitting a poem, or who’ve you’ve encountered on the news? Their inner reality is blind to yours. We have bleeding cakes in dream and vision and in our thought wares unawares, but these things are disguised.
You can’t hear another person fill reality’s room. You only hear yourself. Hey Jim, let’s create a world… Screw this. You handicappers. Can I explain the problems in the world?
Taste another person please. Know they’re there as big as you, and if they think they’re bigger, well, how many times does this happen in any given day? We have to mitigate it.
They’re just stupid that’s all, like we all are. I’m sorry you’re stupid too. Do you treat everybody as you, give them a break, the benefit of the doubt, or forgive them their trespasses? You will have a million excuses why you can’t identify with them.
Come on people please. You’re the center of everybody’s pole, as you imagine them looking at you, but they put themselves there, you know? We can get better at it, givin’ people the credit they deserve, givin’ people their own self in our very own eyes.
Who’s humanity in the room? Can a poet speak that voice? Can we ride poetry there? The productivity’s there be a hurt bag and find humanity. And watch everybody spill the beans.
I am so very blacklisted, I could rise to the occasion and blossom humanity in my heart and write it down in gifted speech, and they would just turn and look the other way, the stadium managers in humanity, who’s who who block poems. Now do you hear me blossom humanity? Now do you hear me blossom poems?
A bridge is the universe. We are reality big. It’s a major crossing. Focus on the many aspects of this visual poem heard while doing science. In a round about way put it on your shoulder I’m your friend. It’s been a lot of Scottish in here. I’ve done a daily put people in the shoes with me. He put the swim in there. I am the render in time, the render in space, that’s the One I’m worth.
That farm, that house is play, here’s where you too, not the separate consciousness but the localized in space, God of the whole evolves. That’s the cherry blossom. That’s where we all rise in sync. I’m an American band I’m comin’ through your town, [sing line] this is exactly what the stadium room, that cherry bloom.
Have we always been human and universal Brahman? I killed 14 people. Frying that up, do I lose my humanity? Back to the recent times. Are people just badder than before? What can we say about humanity? You know I’m countin’ sheep.
We drag clothes wear. This is not our first costume. Where do we come from? Do we come from ugly, or do we come from good? Do we come from the chaos down under, spawns of hell that evolved to light?
We’ve been in the engines of the universe for a long time. Are we emerging, or was this a soul’s fall into matter’s plight, great heavens we wore and then lost it all in a sudden decision? Are we universal existence lost in individual chains goin’ through trapdoors all the time? How does our unity play? How deep does our unity go? Do we evolve together or separately?
You think the protozoa created us scientific doctor, and we emerged to man, no soul in the machine, no universal existence beforehand, no Brahman with his gun. The fish in the sea are our ancestors on high. We dream of being human again you idiot, where life meets the universe on every frustrate world.
Is this all there is pond? I can speak from my crash course in reality, and we have scales of being that rip us off and brighten our days and sometimes hold nothin’ with us in the great majority of cases. There’s the earthling man, the universe revolves around this?
I have more fields to show the origin of the universe wears. I’ve poked my head out of the sky and seen more than I can show. You don’t know what it means to look beyond and carry the glow of the universe like it’s your backyard. I’m a small man in Earth shoes bustin’ at the seams with immensity, and I can give you a ride home?
I ride these poems too, and I’m a bucket in the sand joinin’ reality with you. We have more roles to play, don’t you see? And even existence is not all we are, but let’s get down to Earth, shall we? We are not the demon’s room. We do not come from hell. Escape it is our price— a real punishment you don’t need to worry about all existence long. And we were not once Gods, and now we are men and women, but of Godhead we did wore.
We come from beyond the universe to inhabit these fields of clay. We are existence before existence in the planetary field ride. We are burning suns each and every one, to use the symbol that ignites the universe. We come from on high. We are principle actors in a principle game that has stars for robes.
I just spoke the alcoholic’s din bin, the wayward president his lair, the child molester in bed with a child, and the tax collector at your door. I can get muddy these or just be an ordinary house mum or field husband or kid in school dreamin’ of what will become of me.
Lift up your eyes sweetheart. There is more to come. There’s the Diamond in the room, and all your lives lead to that as in the making of a star, the crash and founding of a universe, and we can be there kids. We can be there in great lone moments of the direction at noon. We can see the sky, have great Earth thoughts that make us feel God inside and hurry this along folks. Yah hear me kids?
Harm's End 