Watched this film, and then the second poem came, the long one, an hour after, and it came all night.
The Banality of Evil, We’re Watchin’ a Different Movie
This is grand cinema. You’re left wonderin’ over its price. Are you opened to that puppy? Just to the pain it caused. Just to its wherewith with evil. We need more from cinema, powerfully done. I’m the long ride. I’ll get you there on sudden bleeds: you will identify with the snake, or your heart pounding no. I heal awhile. Listen to me.
To Heal Holocaust
Heal God. Boy God has done some bad shit, if we count Him responsible for everything, if we say He’s the doer here. How do we get round this table? And now the poem starts. Let’s write it.
You must know into the most horrible places. I’ve climbed down there and got burned. I can identify with the snake. I’ve opened Holocaust doors by beer-bottlin’ a boy. He cried and then got tough. I hit him again and again with that beer yard, two or three boys.
It didn’t make me throw up. I took pleasure from their pain. The control I had, I was in their control room and I knew it. Their weakness turned me on, their vulnerability. I liked it.
This is a Holocaust memorial. It’s not me writin’ on myself. I showin’ where it came from, that and a knife blade. These smites transform into big smites, transform into Holocaust. I'm helpin' you some. I’m going ludicrous. I’m just stupid sayin’ this.
Let’s change poems. What do you feel when you hurt people, your power over them? No you feel your delight that it’s not you. We’re explorin’ some. It’s a probe. Not every formula has got this written on it, but somethin’ happened to you, when you could not fight back, too little to do anything about it. It scarred you. Now you’re investigatin’ that reality, and it’s your hands cause pain, your thrust of life.
This is not healin’ you’re doin’. You just keep doin’ it, a wack in reality that repeats itself, with your hands. What do you do to stop? I can’t get yah there. It’s too wide open. Jeffery Dahmer pulled the plug. Then he started killin’ again. You didn’t know he suffered. You didn’t know he didn’t turn that down, his longness in the inner cycle. Where do we go for change? Wrapped up in an investigation of yourself, you open the inner doors.
Really watch yourself in dream. The plug will come up. You’ll eventually pull it the right way. You just keep erasin’ mood, that spell that comes over yah when you’re around water, when you’re at that place you can do it. This is your fault line, and it’s inner sprung.
You’ve got to get ahold of your behavior, on the inside where it starts. This ain’t hard/this is not easy. [two above phrases heard spoken simultaneously] You’ll see how it’s done in your visual immune system. Message, it will message you. It gives a little chance for you to aim behavior rightly.
You’ve got to get ahold of the bull. You’ve got to grab it by the horns. I took years here, in Holocaust denial. It’s when you begin to see it it’s the hardest. You can’t close the curtains, even when you do it. You can touch it and move it around. You’re puttin’ light down there. This is not about feeling guilty. This is about recognizing pain.
What is true remorse? You feel pain buddy, making other people suffer, but you’re still not in the geography bowl. Look on these two: the ordination of love, and the realizing of oneness. How deep you have to go to get there, how much time pass.
This is integral healing. I know someone that can’t even rise a fantasy. The light got down there. You feel the vulnerability of the other, and you just want to hold them in your arms safe. You can believe you did that. You can see yourself doin’ it, not playin’ it in your mind, I mean it had sergeant over you before, but you’re at peace with it, and you put it out of your room.
We have no laws for this. We’re not ready to find it. There are too many of us to make it safe. It’s good for the environment. I wasn’t so bad I chained people. I was a love roll. I know you don’t understand this. The assurities of Adolf Hitler, that was absurd, and afterwards so complex. It was positively brilliant. Wow, you said brilliant. We would eat lunch there. I’m not bragging it. I’m not starring it. Nobody has a secret weapon to find change in these dark waters.
I’m putting a healing light to it, using my own brand. You don’t know the fashion of evil. You think it comes from us. Its dark nature rises from the Abyss. There are creatures there on a beanpole, with tremendous might, that invade our dreams and conscious minds, and tell our hearts to do things. They are compulsion’s will, and they are smarter than us. Oh my God they’re there, right in our room, pushing us to fall.
What do you do with that? Where do you put it? They don’t give up, and we have to put up with them, on our world endeavor. That’s not fair. It’s not even funny. It’s a stark reality we have to live with. So when you’re coming out of darkness, you’re confronting these, the Snake in your room.
Oh my God they are blind, the ones who hate you for the evil you have done. They’re just self-righteous idiots, and they will see when this is done, when their life’s over, the complexities of fate, the manage devils in your room, the horrible nature of reality in its bottom lair.
We have to contend with this to overcome fate. We cannot escape it. I’ve mentioned the ballgame, what we’re really here for, to change our nature into God dwellers, to spiritualize, divinize, Nature. I’ve pulled the rank card, and you are blind to this. It’s too big. It’s the science of changing your nature, and your own process will see that glory immune system, the one I talk in visions and dreams, the one I talk now. It holds your hand here, and now we are complete: God heals.
Nithish and I taking a selfie together for this poem
This poem was written for the trustees of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry, India, and was given to them the only way correspondence can be, if you are not an ashramite or someone they know, by giving it in an envelope to Mr Puru at the photo room adjacent to the Samadhi, and whether or not he will pass it on is entirely up to him. The Samadhi is the tomb of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo, where people come to sit, meditate, and pray, which is located at the ashram.
We met these tomfooleries. Do you ever look at your own car? Can you be a better sadhak in wood, a better disciple of Sri Aurobindo? I lunge there: I spend my day in total concentration. This is a farmer on my land. I really till the soil. The concentration comes and goes, but it’s picked up time and time again. It’s fits and starts, all day long.
Can you be a better sadhak of Sri Aurobindo? I’m burnin’ on that ground. I clear my mind and find it’s there, for few certain minutes. Can we come back to this? I always do. I am disciple of Sri Aurobindo that always hears words my inner ear hears. I write them down through a voice recorder. My God I’m a seer someone said. No one’s said this yet. I’m just this guy with wood, if you see me on the street, held by my little boy.
He’s white and I’m black, as society sees us, an easy lesson in symbols if you hear. What color am I with him? I am navy green. That means he’s safe with me. What a spectacle for a pair of eyes. The racial mix’s intriguing, on the bandwidth of ourself. Don’t doctor this up. We’ve got infinity going for us, racin’ around, a whole field show. We do sadhana together. I be his teacher.
He’s not cloven foot. He stands on his sadhana too, a kid in grace and poise. Okay stand back. Here’s where we differ. Open the inner consciousness child. Reach in there and find soul. Open up in vision God. The Mother and Sri Aurobindo take those places so many times in his dreams and visions, and in his understanding of God. A child’s understanding basks in time. No matter, they are his guides and goads.
He’s opened the inner consciousness, and his poetry would map our Earth, if we but could give it time to breathe. School shoves it down his throat: hey kid, study for your exams? An exam is a holdover from the last institution: caveman you gotta learn this mile; it’s survival of the fittest. My God the lists against this kid are strong. It’s a wonder he’s even doing it, bein’ a vehicle of the inner voice. The inner lines are strong.
I know the doubt and fear cast on this. You would only see to know. His latest poem I include at the back of this email. His latest voice I include. We measure this by the strength of his ego. That’s not fair. A little kid’s sense wrote this.
Now here we are sittin’ at the back of this ego. And we mention the poet. I’m in the poem you see. Now listen to a story. I’ve given my kid the voice recorder. He might get a line. We are at the opposite pole of the Samadhi from the crowd. I’ve never sat there before. I'm with my other student Mithun, who hears inner music. I don’t got no more students but them.
A band plays. I hear the line “Ice cold Samadhi” just given into my inner ear, but my boy’s got the voice recorder occupied, whisperin’ in two lines of his own: “Rechargeable minds here, Olympus.” Here’s where it gets weird. Someone not connected with the Samadhi watch, not a staffer there, or so I think not, gets an eye on the voice recorder, walkin’ by the mountain. “Gimmie that.” No polite words were spoken, no considerations one, no respect none.
It’s here you’re doin’ sadhana, when somebody pops yah. All the gold comes out. I’m sorry to say none of mine did. In the ensuing conversations with this person and that, I just defended myself, and my boy there. I did not do what I was supposed to do: not react, but I didn’t tell one person off. I kept reaction out of my voice, to the degree anger and ill will I didn’t let show.
This I was careful to do. No one heard me. No one said a word. You know how this is gonna be reported: that son of a bitch lied and stole. You will believe your people, of course, but all things show themselves in time, and no one will be able to lie then, together or apart.
I’m left with a voice recorder I’ve used there now many years. I’ve written poems from that Samadhi, framed one and gave it to yah, “The Rotisserie of God”. No one has ever copied me, the reason I was told I couldn’t do it: everyone will. You think I’d of been discovered by now if it were a ruckus, but I can bring a pencil and paper if you insist. That leaves me with gold they will take from me there, when I come to pray. We will check you now every time. You know when a threat’s spoken. It’s the hatred in their eyes. We will harass you every time you come here. Can this not be what they really said?
Well Savitri asks for boons, from the spectre death. I’m not gonna ask for the blind to see. I’m just a sadhak not Savitri, but I hear you call my name, and can I write poetry sir on my voice recorder at the Samadhi? Well, I’ll wait. Now here’s the one I’m worried about. Can I enter the ashram gates without bein’ harassed? I’ll bring pencil and paper sir, until you tell me otherwise. No hidden cameras to record my voice I’ll wear. Do we have a deal?
Trustee please, are you spiritual? This is a Samadhi question. I live there in my heart all the time. I react, sure, but I’m there, and I live in vision. I see the world before my eyes a thing under creation. It’s being made right now. I hear this in vision, and you did too. “Ice cold Samadhi” means it was a frigid place emotionally, and where was this? It was in the situation I described. These men were ice cold, no warmth at all in their voice or in their eyes. Immediately they rose to anger, all riled upon themselves, and I’d had prevision of this, in that line of muse, just before it started.
The world rose there, before my very eyes, and I only saw it after it was over. Could help then? Well it sure helps in our conversation. I don’t think those men gathered the future before it happened. They were not focused and gathered. All came to put that foreigner in his place, like their reaction was natural the order of the day, like they weren’t doing sadhana. They acted like the inner voice had no place in Sri Aurobindo’s yoga. It was wrong.
Can I tell you something else? Well, my inner voice was right on. I forgot to tell yah… Some people say no I just made a mess. He wants to go over it look— my muse on where I’ve been. I’ve been to the moon and back, if you’re listenin’ to muse, and I’ve danced with the military on tactical nukes, a U.S. special forces commando. I’ve been in the heart and breath stop in Silent Mind, that hurried glance, and I saw the Gods in their tiers in Overmind, and on a rim of dreamless sleep, dived into the well of soul. Would you believe in overhead? The consciousness raises up there, like several meters, and there you find Supermind. Makes for a lot of poetry. Brief glimpses all, but I’ve seen what I’m sayin’.
I can go round about the world a penniless vagabond— 27 countries in 10 years. Do you have that faith? I don’t think you even learned Classical Greek. Translate Euripides into English verse, and you’ll gather strength in poetry. You also get good at it, in time. Took me 25 years, even after I started hearin’ it.
Now can we define the future poetry? The future’s got that in hand. I don’t understand. I’ve heard the future call my name, and you won’t show this to anyone? Paper airplanes every poem I’ve made? Make or break yah, these are not conventional teeth. Are you open to the divine? Candywood make or break yah, what you hear on the internet today.
I’m sorry I took it up, the internet speaker. I get laughed at and lauded. The latter’s not louder, but they’ve gotta eat too, the people on there for the breeze, and I might be seen soon by a pitchfork and a vital that hate me so much I go viral. Look there’s nothing in them, the threats I face today. The rotating officer is not interested in me. I’m not hurtin’ anybody. I’m not doin’ anything wrong. Now you’re starrin’ me, at your look see.
Oh well, do it to her face okay? Get another bad piece from her. You gave her a poem that said she needed to work on it, humanity’s tiger. Do people really wanna act like that at the ashram? A boy his hair, that’s what he does. I thought you’d notice they walk silly. Good idea, I’m talking about being human kind and loving to all who enter your gates.
You’re gonna have to, whadda you do? Really buckle down and be good to people, and her hair could be picked up too, and she could focus and concentrate, breakin’ along can reality period, yeah, yeah. Global, I even ask you to global change. Here it is you have a mirror. There’s broad stroke said it. There’s the yoga. Everybody makes mistakes. Would you offer this to the Mother?
Opening up kids, I agree with you. We don’t block them from society. We fathom them God. We don’t fathom them school. And they become there, on the journey to God a society rose. What do we hope by it? We get bigger than ourselves. His heart, a little boy rises his soul. A little boy rises I’ve been meanin’ to tell you. The expectation’s not the kid. It’s the consciousness. What’s this mountain? You wanna bring God into the world.
I tried to do a little explainin’ on boyness and the nature of man, on bein’ human. We are here for this. We need all our strength. Practice is another suite. Send it sweet. Did you get everybody put in this spirit? It takes the world to make it up. Blown up yeah. We made it here, in this section, to the touch of a magazine. Everything’s online, and this will be too, now or never.
Do you understand the flavor here? That’s the flavor of change. That’s the flavor of Harm’s End. These are bunk beds, and we live here, grandfather and his grandson you keep hittin’ at. Did I mention Douglas? Puts together his life with the Mother. A house is not complete without dogs, and we have four. They are the love of our life.
Our friend is on the roof, Narasimha, protecting my house if you should try to take me down. I don’t die. A divine worker is protected. This is what I’m aiming: the life divine. So much power, you’ll have instructions. May God bless you.
Your outer form was carried right. We are not derelicts or sinners. We are safe and sound. I’m will extra deep, alright? Okay, you have been warned. You don’t mess with divine protection, but are you really mean-spirited? Does the Mother cross your brow if you should hate someone? Okay your character’s on the table now. May you wish blessings for all. May you really hold the Mother’s hand.
I bear you no ill will. I’m not in a campaign to smear your name. I’m doin’ what I’m supposed to be doin’, here writing you a poem, now doing sadhana. I’ve changed the ticker tape in his life, that kid. Am I glad he met me with the divine. I’ve met you that way. That’s the story. Oh wait a minute daddy I wanna fix my lunch, one second. A purity of kid rose, a gracious cartoon. Now let’s survive this and become better friends.
You know it’s there, the fact of your will or consciousness behind a lesson. Okay, noted. Well it will transfer that it was made by the foreigner. Okay, spit on ‘im. I don’t think so. Your thought process in relation to your thoughts, and you pick them up randomly? Now that’s got uncle and brother, your bigger clothes, without AI. I’m here to help.
Paradise Things With Lyrics by S. Nithish
Reach for peace, but it’s a long jump away. It’s One stairs. Butterflies are our airplanes. They’re peaceful and calm. They can fly us to space. From there we need to walk.
There’s a place for everybody in the world. I did two steps: let the Light be the guide; my place is out of this world. We all have something that we should pass on. I do not have a turnoff button.
The ancient minds were better. They left out clues for us. They left out clues around the world. We should always say thanks. Stars were meant to be together.
In and out cars, this one got longer hair. I’ll print the trailer one horse at a time. In the first poem, [link] the codpiece is about enlightenment. We need our system’s input, and we are too skeptical for God in our lives. The horse and pony show makes us system mean. We rob flowers, in all department stores. Terrible consequences for wood. We get ostracized and banished from society, and this is kingdom hall. We bleed and we say grace in the wrong movement. Can you discover this?
It chops us in half, with special counsel. You fool erase that paint. I have to rein it in. Crash on symbols. Let me monopolize ages of reason. That’s think tank in our purple yard. It’s expensive to have sex the behavior is wrong, and that is defined culturally, in sudden kingdoms. I’m a Mastodon that lost its way in heavy equipment. Society won’t forgive me for that, and it only knows the spell of society. Can you gauge that?
We pour out morality on our sleeve. We bury there all our common sense. Hallelujah I’m saved, says the Christian in the room, and society’s muffled because of that, as Christians enter the Legislature and take over government in halls of America. A thousand and one evils, they all blow up on society in a Christian yard. It helps itself to the wrong measure of man. We are so much more than behavior and bended miles.
We can’t see straight. We can’t even look. We’re confounded by time. They study us, all these wrong people in the room, the ones who think they know the right and have their hands on power. They wanna move us outta here, where we pinpoint the throes of man. You can’t lick this chocolate. It’s time on Earth is few. Everybody knows the dance, but no one knows the realization that we are loftier than our species, that we can make it right, one society at a time. This is certain gold.
We are all cattle and sheep, unwilling to find the destination of man. We think it’s a religious figure or an atheist’s technology that tries to play God. Can you character here, find the Sun? We revel in sweetness, then shoot it down with our guns. I don’t think we know what innocence is. It’s cropped out in school, and we lament the loss of innocence in children, and we stand there and rob it from them in the harmful environment of school, and we wanna make it harder, put them in there longer. Can you see this? This is the greatest fire on Earth, makes society a slave model and pits us against one another.
Have I reached the end of this talk on climate change? It’s not felled trees I’m talkin’ about or branded water, or the warmin’ skies. Can we get down to business and do the Earth? Can we see past our little lives? Can we see the bigger ship that man is and will become? How do you land down here? We have to get right with one another, and that’s our climate change. If we are going to get bigger than ourselves, we’d have to see importance in every man, woman, and child. No one is discounted. We come together on love, in every set of circumstances, unless we have to stop killin’ and people in the violent act. We have to be strong and swift for that. Then love finds us again healing lives.
This will give us breathin’ room to discover ourselves. Without this no one’s there, except the few who manage to escape society’s bellows. Where have I placed you? Where we need to go. Where we need to be. Can you refuse this? Most people will. Necessity will bring us to it in the eventful years ahead. I’m a blueprint magazine, and I have my windward sail, and you know I’m here.
I felt the wind blows. How to translate our lives a meaning shifting. You can’t ground it good. You can’t even spell it out. Where does it come from? Where is it going? It’s larger than space and time. We have our supernal roams. This give rise to these, the worlds, and we know you’re in there Mr. Nithish. It comes close to the bottom and close to the top, but a world is a beanpole. We stargaze there. We champion our own rounds. Oh come on come up.
How do you handle a hungry man? With patience and loving-kindness, unless you need to shoot ‘im, ‘cause he’s in our garden. I’ve just mentioned to you the problem. We don’t know when to quit. Our lives are in danger here, but defend ourselves means this: too much overkill. And what do you want? I’m sorry I’m backin’ off. Let’s make this count. We don’t have to be at the dinner table in the substance of our lives. We can be bigger than kin and they all wear my face. Humpy Dumpty sat on a wall.
But we’re relieved to find we are on our way, once we know how to get movin’. You there, will you just sit there and smile? The fear of death join our room. Can we back up this yard? We’ve got a whole lot to loud out, and it’s time we did not let the fear of death stop us. Who lands this creek? You’ve got to get up and get moving, knowing death is always there circling you and the lives of your loved ones. Accept death hell, we’re gonna learn to change it a long time in the future. Meanwhile, we don’t let it stop us from getting bigger than ourselves.
Oh my goodness wide movement. Morality will help you there, but it’s not the goal. We live and die: oh you’re bad temple will cook, because it’s not your religion anymore the church seat. Let’s gold bottom’s up. Where Douglas? We’ve reached stars, all over ourselves. We review the Sun, the gold I was speaking of. Can you hear it? It’s right there on the tail end of this poem. Let’s get busy with it, gettin’ the strength to see it. I give you links, the bread and butter. Let’s copy this on one another: I love you.
You want to recognize you’re there dead. You can’t take a worldview. You’re not operating in that anymore. You’ve just died. This is serious business. It’s a wake-up call on the other side. The enormity of the shock takes your breath away. You’re just stunned, not knowing what to do.
Where is Jesus? Where’s the stars? No religion has showed up yet. You’re on your own, transitioning. It hurts. It’s just simply awful. You can’t stand it. You don’t want to be there. You don’t know how to be there. There’s no instruction manual. You’re dead.
But life has just begun, the dead life on the other side. You cry out for help. Someone hears you. Are they the right one? You don’t know how to do it, receive them. You’re just so confused. You open the door to faith. What you believed in on Earth has not abandoned you, and if you didn’t believe in anything, it comes now.
It’s tall and strange. This is not what you expected. It receives you one moment/limit at a time. [above words heard spoken simultaneously] You are not automatically taken in. You’re put up with. You’re just a person there to process. The compassion of the angels shows in fits and starts. You’re a long ways off from being received on their condition. You’ve got to glow first.
Bad times ahead, as you encounter what tripped you up on Earth, what got your goat, what you couldn’t handle, what you refused to see, what you licked and swooned over, what you didn’t know hurt you. You are put in these situations where you encounter dream. There is no home base anymore, no central mode, but you come back to yourself over and over. That’s your central lair: you are this being in time.
It runs roughshod over you you have to dream on. You don’t like it. It sucks. Slowly you get your feet under yah. You get used to the rhythm of see-saw death. You climb. You step up. You receive them, all these packages of people you knew in life that you made a storybook with. Some of these are reunions. You hold their hand. Some of these are joy-shock. You cling to each other. What we wanted on Earth we get here.
You’re in union. It lasts the length of a cup, and you’ve been given a solid measure, and you are ready to depart for other perfection. You see people there you hated in life or you did under. You do not enjoy this section. It’s compensation. You give them what they need, and you move on.
This is fair and certain: you have your encounters, and they show you life as oneness sees it. You can reject no one, and all morality’s based on this. It is oneness we spring from and what we manage living. We are here to be one. A deeper look arises from our journey. We go the distance to a greater life. A quest of the Spirit pulls on us, and we let it take us in its arms. We are higher now, lighter in spirit. We are so together now, and we’re ready for more.
I’ve taken you there, right to realization’s wings, when you become a ship on the other side sailing into God’s heaven. You’re right there at Heaven’s gates, the heaven of your pearl, the one you sing about to encounter God. You are not all together a central ship. Many heavens receive you, and many positions of Heaven there are.
Now let’s get goin’ towards the realization of life. You can open those doors here and redirect your life, and when you enter death, you are in kingdom. It’s not about dyin’. It’s about being prepared to grow up. We do that here. We do that there. Here counts more than there. Here is the rollercoaster of the fly-room.
These are conscious gates you see. Open up your life here, on this growth, and life will line up to receive you in all of the quests you need. Uncanny this, strong and large. You’re in good hands on this journey to your being’s growth. I’m countin’ it to yah precisely in measure with my life under the sun. I’m a conscious arrangement, and I poetry this to you now. Bombs away. Thank God it’s Friday. Thank God I’m not in your way.
Death’s a cookbook I jargon. I have a bunch of history books repair life. You want to read them now. Come on let’s go to field. I’m a happy bottom death. I’m a joy to the world. Just listen to me sing. I planet with Mr. Rogers, still have his medicine: I really love— bonding agent to the poems I write to you. Take me.
You wanna watch that video or not? It’s limited stairs, but I’ve baked you at hide and seek, and it’s all gone wrong. There is no leeway here. You just wanna get to where you’re goin’, without all the rough stuff. You don’t wanna lollygag. There’s Hell’s kitchen that will not move away from you, if you don’t come to. Where am I? Oh shit you got it. I’ve read your paperwork on that. It’s my own. We have been through these stages so many times. It’s a revolvin’ door. Just listen.
Hullabaloo on your spot, you have to be careful. You haven’t learned my draft yet. I’ve really gotten shadows. Van Helsing, here is monster’s lair, where you find them. Don’t scream yet. They haven’t caught you. Don’t realize your time, they will. Now I’ve put all the poise in, and this poem is right here with the market. How would you find after death?
Dally there coverin’ up our pickup spots. It’s the issue save a Lord. This a mode to deliver God. How does the call center get such a hideous head? Can you hear it’s divine element? Put it in your pipe and smoke it. That’s how we race cars. We local His feet put on, and divine reason we format His being, without that hunch. I don’t say black I say white. That’s not a dirty gun. That’s not a slave our gun. I get to know You. I know you do. Now be quiet. Are You mad at me? Put 10 extra effort, add rifle to your calling card. It’s now clear. Ah, open your eyes. You’re a divine endeavor.
And that’s what we die for. I mean God put us on to be human. I haven’t listened to His music, I haven’t listened to His song, I have to keep dying to put it on, and that’s the guitar, the way we become divine. This is street music. That’s what blesses us everyone. My God I’m arch-pink, and I’ve got subscriptions.
Each thing we revolve around God. This is a vehicle of thought. Wow, we’re in the ways with man. There might be the thought in there you wouldn’t even know exact, but it already fits the handle I have my hands on God. We want to broadcast that to where our being lives in time. We are on the way to Godhood, who we are in time. Bust out usually for lunch, on the wrong and us wanting to survive. We meet that with heroes. We do not let God down. That’s our humanity. I will pick it up one role at a time and deliver it from evil, following God behind the dust.
Death is not an entrapment. We get up by it and fly. We glory it all over us. The 18 store is closed, and we reveal something else. Can we run? We no longer die, just our bodies after a long field put on. We manifest the nature of God, right here on Earth, and we have conquered death and overcome pain, and that’s where we want to go with this. There is no such thing as a void of that, and if I fall short, this will be tied together with real humanism, with my humanity, and I will overcome this obstacle in me and in man.
Okay, email. In fact, put in the right notebook and send it out to the world. Principle the opportunity. Praise the window. It’s still goes into Mind, whether we read it or not on this post. It’s how we survive the culls on thought. It’s how we survive. I’m a limit-book on that. I go beyond the limits.
Thank you for coming you’re across the road, where death is not so bright. We are not in its envelope. It is not our keeper. It’s a son of a bitch. Between love and your loved one there is death. I am sorry this be. We can do nothing about it but die. If death were a person I’d shoot him, gouge his eyes out, but let’s be reasonable about this: the acceptance of death is the acceptance of pain. Death alludes us, will not let us explain reality in terms of trust and love.
Alright it’s there. So be it. Here’s some advice a gravedigger would give you, puttin’ your body to the worms. Bardo, I don’t know, it is a spiritual test, and we grapple with it till kingdom come. That’s the starlight. I’ve spoken death, wonderful news, that we survive its existence. Anybody hungry for oblivion? See you on the other side.
You climb out of sleep into death, and that wakes you up, thank God. Get out of the water, and be calm and clear-eyed towards death. It’s a menacing stair, so necessary to our birth. Taxman that’s true, but there is so much hope in this commercial.
We don’t even know what I did. I’ve raised the sky, took the furious route. I’ve given you diamonds, and I am loathsome to you, a real life pedophile, giving you knowledge in your sleep. What does woke mean? Join us, will yah, in the knowledge that you are one with and wanting to relate to anybody that can be related to, the mechanic’s store, to where we get enlightened, not a thought process a change of consciousness, a complete reversal as a matter of fact, and we see ahead of us divinity.
Put that in your woke starter and smoke it. That’s the system of wokeness. The miracle of other people, do you feel it? It stings sometimes. Take out your woke lists and pick me up. I’ve got a special offer for the people of the entire world. Kinda gets in your guns, doesn’t it.
George de Forest Brush – Orpheus, 1890 (public domain)
This is a poem written to G Surya Prakash Rao, the founder and managing editor of Muse India, an online literary magazine, in regards to their rejection and criticism of Nithish’s poem “Paradise Things With Lyrics”, which was submitted to their online forum Your Space, not to the literary magazine itself. A Twitter/X photo-poem of mine would give more details: “Where Were the Ones That Felt?”
And the poem below was submitted to Muse India for publication, not through their regular channels, directly to the managing editor, as we were having a brief email conversation regarding the boy’s poem. I would gather he doesn’t want to publish the poem below, and that in itself I find remarkable, and you will have to read the poem to find that remarkable too, but the fact that he won’t even bother to tell me, I find that absolutely incredible.
Human civilization is a world apart. I grab you by the poetry today. The overhead music, the overhead town, some suggestions for your unmanageable poetry scheme sir. I speak poetry to your sense of self, and that’s a long ride, half-religion, in the carnival of God. Do you wear zeitgeist on your sleeve, offended if I grab your ass and smile? Man I tell yah where we put poetry today, in the hullabaloo.
You give me 40 lines to tell. How people don’t know it, tellin’ poetry to be quiet is sexual reassignment surgery, cuts its dick off. Well foreign he’s brave. That room is shocked. That room is sorry. This one here, what do you do? Do you publish a poet, Donny Lee Duke?
Teacher of the day master of the poetry. Who says that’s prayer or insightful? That’s a line from the movie Beat Kids. I’m throwin’ at you rabbits to know the meaning of the word, its symbolizing form. Rabbits are a dictionary, and they fecund.
How do I open poetry in your heart that’s not a diction model, phrased put? But I’m putting sound down as a vehicle of meaning, categorically put. Imagine we lived in a rose, and we petaled differently, the speaker said.
You’re not huntin’ meaning. You’re all about sound rose a churppin’ model with words you can cut your finger on, your personal stuff that sees the corners of things, gets at feeling and taste, ode to a green jar and supposin’.
I wrap you around wood in a different kind of glory. I laugh-loud you to go get greater silk to stand your life, because I’m sittin’ here strandin’ mine, where it hurts, where it counts, and that’s bubblin’ up poetry.
That’s not it I’m listenin’ to myself speak, here I am on the table the thought of London, Batman in robes, lyrical put. A new generation of poetry, a new thought of poetry, here I am and you chase me down this mountain you tin can. I’m a dormitory of words.
Is that bowl I’m missing let’s listen to Tennyson? Grab your evolution by the poetry sir. Blast your pillars of salt. Blast your shadow kings. Don’t look back at some exam of poetry Orpheus. Grab your poetry by today.
To the editor of Sky Magazine: change Orpheus into a pillar of salt. Lay down your lines you’ve surrendered to poetry. Can you hear that? Muse India a scolding. How sad. You hear that?
The tops of teas lyrical ballads. Where am I at? I don’t think you’d recognize me. I’m poetry fits the day, sudden splendor.
Can we get to the top of that mountain? I offer you a chair. It’s closer than you think, a morph of Orpheus, of your kind. You open it binoculars.
Peace is a drug that you get from the upper store. [above line Nitish’s muse, my 12-year-old grandson] Nithish’s smile. Your anthology papers, post my letters, it is very change. I’m not lookin’ forward to the new ghost story. Oh man, do your ignore me? A new music, a flute overhead, we need that to survive. Things are not going in our direction, and can we just change the tunes? What a poetry says a culture does.
You’re not playin’ around with smithereens. Come on don’t groupthink and let poetry rock. I don’t understand you sir. Does it have to be highfalutin? You stuff shirt, come out in the world and see. Am I wrong? Do we need something more out of poetry that we’re not getting?
Come out of your damn ivory tower and touch the world. Is that so hard to listen to? What are you doing that you can’t see this is poetry? And I will haunt you for the rest of your life a poetry gun, a poetry speaker, a poetry man.
I don’t think you realize the power of poetry, the muse today. It will be inevitable we dance along the Thames putting it out like Shakespeare. It will come out of its bottle and change the world. Too strange driven, you think it just needs to be thrown away, like this email’s cut off here. Are you kiddin’ me?
A star is born between us. He never did intended to become Puget Sound. All about its eternity: let me be the souls you can stand on. [above line heard sung] Believe it, huh, go back to Hollywood, where we find poetry today, where conscious entertainment walks with her fascist in pearls. When she gets to the Lake, when she gets to their alone in the dark, fascist quivers.
God grows in the hours, takes His first steps in the wherewithal of man, in the audacity of man, in the growing of man. We’re here. This is our livelihood. This is our pain. We kiss each other with this. We kill each other with its denial. We play together God-children.
I cannot fathom this. I look at it and stars, but there’s no name that I can put on. No concept carries this. It billows out a jutting of nature, seemingly meaningless. Where is righteousness in That? And godhead? The forms of things are too much for me, billowing God.
My God I think I will lose the world just sitting on a park bench. It’s embarrassingly strange. I can’t feel this with godhead fingers. I only see the road ahead in headlights of my be. Frozen fingers point to frozen books that spell this out to me, and I’ve been there, where God sits billowing Earth. I cannot contain that now. I don’t even know where it is in all this hullabaloo.
I am beside myself with this seeing, and I can’t take the world. It is all too deep and meaningful. What gave rise to forms at all, that He should inhabit them? Weird has me by the hand, and I love it there. The One who inhabits forms has bequeathed the world to me. I am a passion of its movement.
This marriage of life with form brings out the good in me. I can access myself, ponderin’ realities. I am here I told you, inside myself, a multiple see. Can I scrub my room? I can sure get down on myself. What do I have special that’s given me form? How indigenous to the moment I can feel foreign to myself, and I see aliens in spaceships where people pass me by. So alien world this, a feature of the Void. It rocks.
I’ve about had it with this. It’s too much to see. It overwhelms me. I infinity stare, and the forms of things are will-o-wisps around me, like existence cannot last in countless time. Will it all never be?
I want to look at it from there: I know I’m the One. I’d like to sit in a thoughtless temple and feel absorption unto myself. Do you know that ride? I spin it on my head, so close to realization’s axis I can just realize it’s there. I can’t climb into the module.
This is dynamite, and I’m happy to have it for a little while. Can you shoulder my room? I don’t think you’d lift there. It would scare the daylights outta yah. It’s ungrounded you see, in infinity’s swirl. You can’t touch the side and bottom, but the Top is smilin’ down at yah. The larger You is looking in on you, where you meet waves. You’re naked in front of Him, and this is good business cause you get soothed.
And that’s a ring around the wherewithal of That. It holds your hand, and you can see it better unhinged. The wisdom of insecurity Watts said. He had no idea. I’m a public project. Come up here, and we can manage some how we find hope. I’m a clear regard. You can see eternity from here.
But I’m about my room where I gather field. I do stuff. I get things done, cook and model people, deliver them to sum. I can see the problem: starward, we don’t gather ourselves there, or neglect this great big motion field play, like it’s normally down. If you do that those have been cleaned: a stranger looks at time’s eyes. You will last the night. You will hunger some for realization’s pinnacle, but you will certain see.
A joining: hey look at this picture with my other one, internal let it go from here: daddy! daddy! Kid’ll give you a pin down of where things go. Realization’s coils the delivery room. You’re okay there. Okay you’re up. This is a violet test: come warm infinity through halls of room. We will give you another mile.
Vision of matter materially investigated, I guess that first step. But isn’t she gorgeous? That guy is free, free for both of us, because May after we have to do another one, where we inhabit this planet Him. We will live in freedom pronounced by God. Join me there on your eraser, and erase all lines but God. What do you see? Perfect freedom.
Euthanasia of the Spirit you entertain anything else but God. That was a bad night switch, to lose this from our origins, but we’re back there at bright staples today. Any way you look at it 12 noon.
I’m so sorry for this point. I just wanna rub my face off. I’m a graveyard of the best intentions. I feel so inadequate to time’s doings. I can’t even communicate with you, where people are heard these days. Nobody can find my stuff on Twitter. It got shadowbanned. I don’t know how WordPress is gonna treat the length of these poems. YouTube knocks down videos, and even though I’m there I’m not.
Do you every have the certain futility to look, I mean at the sky and everything? It just mows yah down, the big of everything. I’m here I said, and yeah that’s little. I can fit into a little cup of everybody’s been here. That blasts, you know?
And here’s where I’m hooked. I can see the bigness, and I know I’m its business. How do I lavish to you the plan to be where poetry finds you today? Can I say the arc of poetry all along this poem? I want to speak need, not measure, where we find each other today in the lifting of our room. Come to me I’m poetry, is that where I find you? Shadowbanned in Carnegie Hall, this is the price is right to write poetry.
I’ll go the rhythm. You know I’m 10 feet tall. In this culture the number one is never far from shoot. You hold steps right about now to that escapade. Oh boy Rainbow Nagar, he can express His eyes when he speaks, but he put a poem out that grabbed them in the poetry, Muse India.
And I’m an indicator of where we find poetry today in India. That is not on our streets. It’s not even in our cars. It’s just billowin’ in the wind unread and unheard. Hear me people? Oh I can’t stand this new poetry. It juts out like a wad of nature and surprises yah in your sleep, all this regard, and that, and all eyes on God. Can we land poetry today? It’s got me by the book. And I’m reading you time said.
Looking my answer. I’ve made such a rainbow. No one sees its beauty/sense. [words spoken simultaneously] It’s just another lunatic in a long game. It’s just completely ignored, except for a handful of brave souls I would like to thank. 5,4,3,2,1, I’m countin’ your love here. You have risked your lives online and put a like by my material.
Let’s count the score. I’m flabbergasted. I don’t know what I mean. I’ve counted meaning in the stars, summed up the meaning of Earth, and physically grasped Supermind, and I’ve even housed meaning soul, yet I cannot grasp in my own hands I write. I cannot write my meaning in Earth. I cannot even tarry there. I don’t know how. I don’t know where I am where I meet you with the pen.
This is a mystery to me. I am a steady stream of starlight that doesn’t leave out one iota of where my thoughts are, my hands in the business of life, my heart as it sees the world, and I can’t even gauge you my time. I write things down I hear from on high, and that is not the half of it. I run this through the strands of my life. I sit and wonder the lines I write. I pick and choose and beg and plead to give you the date of poetry.
It’s all scrambled up sometimes in the gut-fields of life. I cannot touch life. In halls of infinity I just get close to it in storms of pen. It won’t read me there. It’s just about the lie we value poets today. Do you?
I can’t tell you how much I spend on this. It’s my life’s blood. I work around everything to write. I eat and I sleep carrying muse. I’m about the end of it, how I begin each day. I don’t think Shakespeare knew a better idiot than I feel grasping you. I’m sorry please. I will arrive there one day, where a poem’s just a piece of paper I’ve handled meaning on, and I don’t handle meaning in terms of readers. I’m gettin’ there. I can see it now.
What do we do with the orange crush? You’re gonna sneak up on my meaning as I write. You think it’s about lollipops. I’m just tryin’ to grasp myself today a writer of poems on Earth’s starward prow, in her meaning lists, and where I find the Sun. I gobble down the stars, lick up the scraps. Do you know muse? I am so entertained. It’s an amusement park, and to think this is for all mankind?
Wow, we watch TV with it, put it in our pipe and smoke it no. Did that just happen to me? I’ve heard a line of muse, saw a vision, and the sign said poetry. And we grasp Earth in our specialness and want to tell the world. It’s not ready for it yet, and you can’t get there yet, show your muse. Don’t throw it away. It’s got vision’s long hold on it. It will mature brightly. You’re not showin’ it to people. You’re just listening muse. It’s got a lot to show for it.
You’re gettin’ bigger kid, lookin’ at the world some a God vision growing. You think you’re a pilot of the world? Oh please we’ve all been there, considering ourselves. We can grow so much bigger in our thoughts. We can get bigger than ourselves. We can surely get there. Do you know how far this is? I don’t think you can touch it with ego. It’s on the other side of the universe. A change of consciousness gets you there, and that’s where we measure our days, not in muse.
A change of consciousness ahead, that’s where we measure muse. Is it happening to us? Is it real? Is it there yet? Do you see the lightning? Oh wow better poetry can I Lord please write? Where I am today: I don’t think anybody hears me. You silly fool, write measured pace.
Run it through the ringer of my life and be bold, casual and free. Newman, we’ve got that ticket. Caught a moment off Gods to the camera you’re the human being. Focus any of my material? Put it on that lawn, Lucille Balls. We’re negotiating shelter. What principles create him greater need? He’s blarin’ at yah sorry about the needful.
There’s time to look at it. I’m sorry I say so much that brings out your life. Are you crazy? You give the essential details; there is no need to give them. He needs to got put in the hold. You’re listenin’ to him. Open it up Americans, because Americans with a policy —okay let’s go under— with a policy to grow anything. The only way I talk to you is throwin’ you out. [line heard sung, voice of Dolly Parton] You wanna sit your own ass on the opposite side of going off the bridge. Yep, that outta do it, environmental change.
Call your father Christmas. I can’t call anybody. I’m not allowed to write. It’s because you never get read. They’re gonna come, the people who read newspapers. I just want to look at the must angle. We need these right now, these poems called freedom, how you pronounce it, how it’s acting.
And I have a lovely single for you today, another poem, good story, man's help. And for poem’s sake, the runner, Beavis and Beauty— I’m underpinnings; I’m the laugh of the party; I’m in there a broad measure of healing. Let’s leave it up to another empty poem to give us some ground rules.
I want to be Rivendell to meet, not some pedophile sandbag. A lot of people meet me everyday. I’m countin’ the reaction when you’re encountered with pedophiles. I’m goin’ to school where I meet yah, and would you believe you could learn about the sky here? They stole it, people who let social stigma get in the way of their judgment. Did we just mention everybody? For awhile there, Jesus was not one of ‘em. Now he’d be right there judgin’ yah with everybody else, because he’s a Christian.
Do we have anything fat to look at? Can we get into a different defense cave? Social stigmas don’t have sting anymore. It’s not visible too seen. You think you know everything. What does this cost us? Would you believe the stars? You can’t go there. You can’t even run. It’s got yah by the balls. You’re not helpin’ anyone sexual sinners included.
Did we just mention social stigma? The heart of the disease. It camps us in the hatred of the sinner. It’s here we have social margins, places we cannot cross, the ultimate taboos of society, bigger than even eating your neighbor. Can you feel the hate down there? What riles you up more against the sinner? Where do you go with that? In the news.
I’d like to lesson faith, put Christ there on the table and examine him. Let’s start with Buddha. Do you see love? Hell even Krishna would say no in a pedophile open container. Muhammad would just deny that it ever be. I’m countin’ populations of this faith or another, that give us Godly love. The population says no, if we’re lookin’ in sexual drawers. Why is that? Godly love’s not among them.
Progress, we haven’t seen this yet to stop hate here. Have I come to a common denominator what eats the heart of man? And we can come further. We can see this thing. We can liken it to our lives. We can know it hurts us, to always have the scarlet letter we give people to wear. I’m talkin’ about every day, every hour, every minute, on this Earth, and multiply that times humanity.
Silent the Staffers are about this, the administrators of humanity, the ones who give us the news, the ones who sell religion, and the poet, and the playwright, and anybody who makes noise. A lot of people mention queers and transgenders and other fancy stuff, but they sure aren’t showin’ us the leaven of the rule to hate sexual sinners, very different from accept me I’m gay.
Did Jesus come to heal that? A powerful religious figure. Have we come that far, where we can recognize the sinner in the ones who are to us Gods? And the ones we recognize as Gods, they wear perfection you see, so they have authority, so they don’t blind us with true vision. We can’t take that light. Mother Mary was a saint, and Jesus never sinned. Can we get outta here? Out of wedlock has got us by the balls.
It damages us, makes us see right in lying about the Light. Muhammad never loved women and failed God there. Can we see this for the truth? I think someone would kill me if I said it, and word got around. Our religious bringers, even if they don’t know it, are tryin’ to heal humanity where their own lives are concerned.
Of religious hate, it can’t see this. Of religious hate, this is all over the place, and here it’s most prevalent and mean, most pronounced, and it’s there in your jury room, and it’s there in your heartbeats. What do we need to heal? Society, if we ever hope to help the Earth. Environmental change to a better Earth for all begins there. It’s our starward. It’s our hope. It’s where we meet each other.
Who do you revile the most? That’s the key ingredient of our change. It’s where we find each other on common ground. It’s where we pick apart humanity and find its managing flaws. It’s where we touch base with one another, and it stinks to high heaven. It’s beyond the pale. It’s what moves us to rape, murder, and war, because it’s our common denominator, LCD hate, the hatred we all share. Move that, touch that, and we all quiver.
Are you there yet? I’m roundin’ you out some. I’ve got a field to show. Hear my heartache? I am everywhere. I’m in your shoes now. Feel free to put your comments in the minus bar, is that what you say Eddie? Is that where you’re at? It’s where we draw morality today.
The body of trans auto-mania piss you off. It’s just super cool to take your gender off. They suffer for this. I am a man goddamn it, and here my body’s female. I can’t grab my own balls. I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m ugly in the mirror. I don’t fit. This hurts. It’s all I can see. I live with this everyday. I can’t surmount it. It’s got me by the balls.
So I’m transgender, and I have this wonderful surgery to make me a man. It really feels good to take my gender off. Low and behold I’m a man! I’m now right with myself. I can see the world that way. Everything’s alright with the sun. There’s just this little stickler in the program: I’m still a woman. I can’t get up in the morning without remembering who my body was. I kill my dead name, and I still respond to it.
I thought I was gonna be happy, really fulfilled. I tell the press I am. I’m still confused inside. This didn’t do the trick. It just took my face off. I don’t know how much I regret my new situation. I kinda like my new dick, but this just didn’t satisfy, you know?
I’m in gender dysphoria. I think that’s the word these days. I can’t get over it. Gender is a thing of the past. It’s not biologically made. It’s not who we are. I decide what I’m gonna be. Gender’s what I say I am, and it’s fluid all damn night, and it’s green. I have to get my dick cut off to be happy or make my vagina out of one, and that is the secret formula for wholeness and wellness of being I’ve told myself that a million times.
It never sticks, but you know, it feels good to be different. I’ve revealed myself. I’ve taken society by the horns, and I have said you do not determine me. Now, where do we go with this? I’m on the same side I was. Happiness did not come from the scalpel and knife. I still suffer. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know out of this. It’s not what I thought it would be, all bliss and honeymoon.
Oh man there is a deeper life. It’s right there at your edges. You have so much more to you than gender. You are a pilot inside. This is where you take yourself. You’re looking for fulfillment. You find the road ahead. It’s got spiritual on it, in that it’s deeper than life’s ways. You go beyond yourself. You get bigger than you. There are states inside that show you this. It’s a consciousness change. It brings you out of yourself. It’s as natural and as right as rain. It doesn’t boil you over. It’s where you’re going with this, your humanity.
It’s not a made-up lie. You will find it on the inside if you look with open questions and the knowledge of the seeker who fervently knocks on doors. It’s been lost to humanity by and large, translated as religion around the world. These are not beliefs you grow into. Your spirituality is you, and you get deeper every day. The sun rise in you it begins to dawn in you.
Now you’re sittin’ in the road of you feel good about yourself. It’s not fake anymore. It’s the real McCoy. It can’t be duplicated by gender fuck you. It can’t be duplicated by a reliance on the machine. It is so different, who you are, than you figured it was going to be.
Gender was not what I thought it was. There’s a principle there masculine and feminine. We would call them forces of nature. It’s got a lot of glow. It would determine society. It would be a division we are. We’ve been divided in two, so our babies don’t kill each other any more than they do. So we have to have a plan to elope. They have to come together, the divided forces, to make offspring, and that makes us. It was designed that way, so we could have peach on earth in our kitchens.
The lie is this: you are a man, or a woman, and that’s that. You are both you see. The woman you long for, the one you wanna be, man in gender dysphoria, is not about a knife, cutting your balls off. You be that woman inside that’s fine. It’s a principle you’re enhancin’, but you still let that man glow. You come to a balance in yourself, express which gender suits you in any given moment of life. Which one you push more to the front in that moment, and which one lays back, this is wholeness. Don’t cut yourself off.
Gender dysphoria, it’s a book. It’s a fad. It transpires, but you don’t reject yourself. You see what you are. The confusion’s on the table. It’s about us. We are more than a mind in a body in the everyday instruments we use. We have an intermediary, the vital, a life-body. It’s the breath of life, the life force in us. It has its own consciousness, and it pushes its desires into the mind, its impulses into the body, its preferences for this and that, and it’s the death of us.
It’s like a small child, really. If you meet it in dream it is a large, hairy creature with a long neck and no head, that just loves you to death, like a big rub up against you dog. It’s friendly. It’s got its own mind. Now here’s the trouble with man, and we don’t even see it: you have to get the vital in order, if you wanna deal with life. This was not a doctrine I performed when I entered the Integral Yoga that has this psychology down. I had met my vital in dreams, and I understood what my teachers were talking about. Sri Aurobindo and the Mother talk about the vital a lot.
Now here you are a man in a woman’s body, or a woman in a man’s, or so you think. There are three people involved: your vital, your mind, and your body. They each have a gender. Wow, how weird is that? It’s principles they mask. One is masculine. One is feminine. A combination wouldn’t mean dysphoria, or would it?
Now, my mind is male, and I’ve got a male body. My vital sweetheart is feminine. They work together you see and form a confederacy. I balance them. I know myself. Would you?
A masculine-feminine body would have to be dealt with. It would require surgery in some cases. That’s understood. Okay we got a masculine mind and vital, but the body’s different. What’s removed in surgery? Surface towels. The body consciousness still has its gender. It hasn’t been cut away. It counts. Can you see this?
How do you live with it, a body one thing, a mind and vital another? That’s not a woman inside a man’s body, or the other way around. Your understandins’ wrong. Give this gift to yourself: don’t worry about society’s gender. Take its clothes off. You want to be you inside. Where is that at? A masculine-feminine lady, or a man that’s masculine and feminine. Do you get the picture? Can you see what I’m sayin’?
Be okay with who you are. That dick is yours, that beaver. If it’s ugly you got a problem of self-acceptance to sort out. You don’t have to be confused. I think it’s society’s roles making you suffer, the way it looks at you. Can you be bigger than that? Can you get out of yourself in don’t look at gender like it makes the world go round?
Be a man and a woman you see, and it’s where society’s movin’, fluid gender roles. You open your spirituality you’ll also become the opposite sex. I mean if you follow your plan, the inside spirit of things, the movement of your soul as it walks through time, not a practice and belief set. Have we gotten anywhere? To the right way of being. Have you heard me yet? Try.
Gender roles don’t tell yah who you are. The extraordinary does, and I’m a mission to see it more plainly than I do now. Would you believe it? And they call me a pedophile. You think you’ve got it bad in society’s ways. Gender role fluidity, let’s get sensitive about that, not insults to us, because they disagree with you. We can’t change society with the anger of its being. That crushes it, eats it alive. We can’t change society with anger and want it to love us. Somehow we have to all agree gender roles are too rigid, and we change accordingly. That takes love. That takes patience, and we won’t do it overnight. Does anybody hear me?
We want society to change, and that’s the school we go to, and it’s not a military school. And we come to the gender roles, the wrong types of the wrong kinds of divided. We reason this out where rules are concerned, and we put them aside when need be. Our school children can learn this so easily, how to a happy gender life. Let’s start with some knowledge, will yah? And you heard it in this poem, all along the gender wars. You hear me?
There’s a message in our placement book, where we live together life. Do you hear it? Let’s aim life to that message room: oh gender kids, gender fluidity. Oh no acting occurred. There are muscles that never hurt. There are muscles that never work. Never wash your hands is a single no to the system. You just lie there and wait for some other hand to pick you up. Oh come on please, you don’t know what I’m talking about? Get it, that two worlds isn’t political; it’s political or die. You’ve got that raccoon in your mouth. It lifts good. Now are we gender or sex?
Let’s take a look at this. Oh my God he’s gay. Yes Chris, Mr. Beast is not laughing about this. Twenty thousand eat their dicks. I’m gay. It’s a guilt trip. One second. They don’t like the social stigma. Is that a reason to cut off your penis? You don’t want to be gay, and we transgender, like gayness is out of style.
Does it feel good cutting your penis off? Like months, like nab, yeah I’ll use nab. We use gay against the world. Luna! get off that girl dog. She’s humping her lesbian. No even a service to me. Look at the spell. A Rottweiler’s blind. She really gets after it. What am I saying? Please, we would not give Luna a sex change operation because of it. She’s my dog.
Why are we sex changing people? And it’s just a big mess. The social stigma of gay, or bein’ a lesbian, I don’t want it. I don’t care. I will kill you. Wow we’ve loaded this gun. Now let’s support them in this? How many children are saying that? Puberty blockers please, I’m just homosexual. I hate that. I put on gender clothes. Yeah it’s perfect. Yeah you do.
Can we sell you something else? You’re a man. You will be that when you grow up, and you’ll have these gay feelings. Why would you want to deal with them with irreversible surgery? And man, they say it’s better as a kid. The change takes that way. Hence the puberty blockers. And we look at God again. No sex between kids, so cut their dicks and pussies. Why can’t they make the decision to have sex? They can gender confuse. They can decide to remove their genitals. Why aren’t they old enough to have sex? Now a child molester touch those parts, is that really worse than a doctor cutting them off? I think you’re blind here.
You stigmatize people. That helping hand, you won’t let it out in the neighborhood. That role competition, can we first see we engage in it? A girl wants to be a boy. Why? Boys get to do more stuff. They’re the arm of society. So they bleed in the wrong bathrooms, because they have a dysphoria. They don’t wanna be girls. Has this anything to do with life, a reason for choices? You bet your sweet Bob it is. They’re gay, so many children who want to slice penises. And those girls who want to be boys, how many of them say it’s because of the muscle? Can we look at gender dysphoria please? Can we really look at it?
Let’s look at my hand. And he goes out into the water, The Fonz, and this is trick or treat. You’re doin’ it on ice. You rob people of their sleep. I think you know you’re ugly. They’d call you a freak, the transgender haters. It didn’t work did it? Just listen to your voice. It’s a weird drum, your larynx. You don’t look like people who made the stars. There’s somethin’ about you out of wack. Can you admit it didn’t work, your sex change operation? It just has you glow in an almost there.
I can’t count society’s ways. There’s too many of ‘em. I think it’s important to be gender. Don’t even catch up. I’ve watched them a million times, ‘cause it goes and knocks out one of them, it role change his whole society. I think it’s important to be gender related. I’m talking about Chris, with the power to say he’s a woman. Is that really true? Do we give people that right, just be the opposite sex? That negates society’s most structuring formula, right now. We haven’t gotten there yet, a gender equal society. We can’t force it with this change. You’re messin’ with the roles of man, the very terms of how we socially construct, and that goes deep.
You change that at the drop of a hat? Why would somebody be transphobic, who opposes it? Wouldn’t they just be normal in the field of today? Did you know that you’re askin’ a lot of people. You want them to accept your decision, based on what? These are role plays. Now it’s just if you say so. That’s the right being pushed.
Well that’s grand. It doesn’t do us any good. Okay if your vital and your mind are feminine, and your body’s not, I think we need to learn how to do that, come to that conclusion. Part of it’s inner work. But them we wouldn’t change your sex with plastic surgery. We’d allow you to express yourself as a woman, if that suited you, or at least feminine wears. We are still on the way to that. So many people just want the norm. Can you see the obstacles in your way? Can you see all this stuff?
I don’t think there are as many of you as sort out. A lot of you are just blind to the role maker, and you think you need to be reassigned. By that I mean nature works, in most cases. Now are we superstar? We can’t even get a poem across, and this is a long one. I can say anything you know. I don’t get called out— no readers.
How are things goin’? Things seem to be happening rather fast. It looks like social breakdown, but that’s been always happenin’. Oh we don’t own money. How many of us are record holders? How many of us are rocket holders? The rich own this planet, and we want them out of power. World is not a kind thing, and it’s beginning to self-destruct there are so many of us. We aggravate that. Now you can go right to the hammer and get under it, or you can lay out the change, one poem at a time, to keep this planet off roller coasters, to make sure we survive.
America especially but in the West, transgender has come to mean offend. It’s where we can see over-sensitive, in its full play. Why is that? People aren’t secure in their decisions. Well another poem underway. See that it gets to rocket science, will yah?
No one has ever seen these kinds of dosas before. They do your head in. I don’t think anybody listens to them. You know how you go with filter out when there’s too much on the page. How can anybody listen to the net? Alright this is a mirage, that’s all. He gets behind, really frustrated with his output. No matter what he does nobody listens. He’s really doing what we need to hear now. He’s just cast aside in his margins.
Lovin’ is the first terrain we build. Comin’ upon you now, everything we do to hear a voice. It’s not happenin’, is it? We can’t get loose. We can’t even get seen. You can be so lonely on social media. We’ve asked the media companies to chop us all to pieces. We red line our material online. “I like it,” says someone in charge. “It just doesn’t get out to the public. Should it?”
Should the sun come up tomorrow? Should everything be grand? Should we see the truth? I can’t holiday this. It’s essential reading. We have so many poems. A nurse on earth we come to you in glory-ride. You only see the smile, not the survival manual. Tear this up, will yah?
You don’t know how to behave when it comes to the equity of art. You spit on it, if it’s too early. You don’t see its business if that art goes all the way to God. You think he’s preaching to you. You’re atheist today. We’re a religious my God only. You don’t have room for all-encompassing God. You want some well-defined art that doesn’t blow your mind. You wanna sell it on eBay, whenever you need the money. I’m beyond your lists. I’m not just about God. I’m about your own divinity. Who deals with that? Can you see it?
It wouldn’t be how we’re hung today. We’re on the survival of the fittest machine. We can’t over ourselves. There’s just too much art out there to do the actual thing. Is that your hypotenuse? I’m square one the art project. Do you know what I’m sayin’? You just know your own story, and it’s so comfortable to talk about. Listen to me.
Well I’m no gift-shark. I have something good for you. It’s well arranged, like it’s stealin’ your heart. It’s got love on it. It will help you see the day in terms of man, the humanity we are. You love those papers? I can show you how.
We need to get down to this business of love. The 60s just sung about it. It was a nice tune, but we couldn’t put society together with it. We didn’t know how. A product of the 60s, I have the formula. I laid my childhood there. Why would it die away? Of course it’s continued. The 60s brought us somewhere. Here it is, the inevitability of love.
We know we all need it. It’s what makes us glow. It puts society right. It is the reason we’re here, to love. You doubt that? Go punch your dog. Tell your child they’re a worthless human being. Love is what makes the world go around, in our certain with each other. People needing people, that’s the inevitability. Barbra Streisand we will love them. She was ahead of her time. I hear her now the love she gave us all softness from. Now I’m past 30 I’ve got that under control. I love for the sake of love you know.
I love to do it every time I encounter you on set. What a minute, what do we do with the hateful people? Somewhere along the line love has failed them. Do you know what a half hour means? Give them that in your love voice, and they’ll come around, where you go to make an appointment with the high fidelity of love. It arranges things. It knows how to treat people. We all love it you see; we are all taken by it, when it’s directed at us. We can’t help ourselves. It’s love.
Come down to this moment. It’s there in the room with us, and it’s asking us to join it in the emergency room. Send it to me about three weeks before; let the Devil take tomorrow— somebody reading the Bhagavad Gita and only understanding the text. Found it for the first time in forbidden love. I thought it was to fulfill myself. Then I fell in love and saw what the other person meant. I became a child molester no longer. I loved in the fullness of that vision, the love of a child in its true form. I got bigger than my wants and needs. Love was all around me. I basked in it, and there is no reason to give it up. I will change the world with it in the legacy of poems.
Come with me now. Let’s get love on the table and bring this world around to itself. I’ll give you the electricity. You give me my voice. That’s an equal plan. Targets, I’ll sing right straight to yah. There’s somethin’ else. Watch it. Make sure you have permission to Rambo. Right now women are hyper-feeling about love. That’ll be best to put you’re threatened to have the suggestion right now of sex on the table. It doesn’t do good there in the love that lifts our kind. Can you get the hatred of men off the table? You hear what I’m sayin’? Let’s get that extra-special love that sees love as a vehicle of peace, the right way we treat people, the love we give free. Are you with me?
An app to watch this grow, that’s my likely puzzle. We need to found the Earth. It’s just been on our lists yet. We arose and that was that. Let’s get bigger than ourselves. Let’s outweigh the Earth: I love you brother, and sister, you mean so much to me. We do this. Yeah I’ve got some revealed, and we’re there kind behind it. Can we get that far? That’s our mandate.
No sore spot on this Earth will do without us. You haven’t outlived your computer until there are no sore spots on earth. I’m the least complicated feathers you bring everybody off. Ready? My flames have been lookin’ at it all the way you one time. [above line heard sung, by a rock group like of the 60s] You burn for this individual, nation or people. You burn the Earth for them, not with a power cord or a destruction module. You torch the Earth low I told you the numbers. You burn for them with love. Include the pack, it’ll be today the Palestinians get our love. Do it now.
Do it there, and stop killin’ everybody. For the sake of Gaza, open your arms. We’re with the Palestinians. Give to them here, Dr. Handshake, in the evaluation of the poem. We don’t bleed with Palestinians. We stand with them in love, with the Palestinians today. Let’s chose war of no violence. We blanket them with love, and we do that before they die.
What’s happening? You met on social media. Who turned out to hear? A trail of my own two cities, if you ever want a home in the field. I love the Israeli people too. And all the people were mad at me for what I’d done. The Israelis the heavy hand, all the solvin’ or even history, well theirs won’t even hold the Palestinians as people. I’m here to see that.
I don’t know where we get off. I compound a poem. I’ve become a political speaker, applyin’ love today. Will you cancel out my poem that way? Barbra Streisand do you hear me? We need to love these people too. That’s all I’m sayin’. In the history of genocide, we wouldn’t only look to Jews. I’m defendin’ them. No not actions, people. I’ve seen it on TV all my life, airplanes blown up, a lot of innocent people slaughtered, because Palestinians were trying to get Israel to unhook their humanity.
How do you end this war? Israelis have to love Jews. Israelis have to only love Jews. Wow we’ve arrived at that chosen people mandate. Get Jews off my land! It’ll blow your fucking mind, half an hour the vehicle of love is Israel. You love me Israel— put the Palestinians have a mandate for love. Why can’t we Jewish exceptionalism here? And you’ve got my love poem. It’s a Nobel Prize today love becomes the letter of the law. That’s where you put your business, oh you enterprising Jews. Can your love see that? Can your enterprise see that? It’s a war machine now. Everybody just ran up and started shootin’, even after the terrorists were killed. Is that Jewish exceptionalism?
Harm's End 