Category: ego activism

Listen to My Dog

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, overhead poetry, seer poetryLeave a comment
Hannah, photo by Donny

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

A guy that’s on the net.
It’s on the net.
I not been poet before.
Spirits in my head and they won’t go. [line heard sung by the Strumbellas, “Spirits”]
We’re shoppin’ for cars.
Can’t find a one in your neighborhood.
Bubble me up please.
This is Ranger.

I’m calculating science.
You don’t understand the net.
I’ll make a video
to make everyone laugh
so I can feel special inside.
I’ll waste my time here.
I don’t know what to say.
Can you do it,
make meaning out of worth?

A horrible commotion
the whole damn net.
Where do we put it?
I’m sure some voices rise.
Some everywhere.
Let’s not fudge with it.
Let’s put meaning on there.
Can you mean somethin,
make us all grow,
like we mean something?

Where is it
the meaning of this paper?
I think you’ve thrown me away.
The net’s speaking me.
Can you hear that?
Can you show your inmost self on TV?
Just one rupee sir,
and we’ll have taxes of course.
See that net?
You won’t be a voice talking.
We won’t take you there.

Do I wanna go down there,
to a person’s imaginary poet world?
Nah,
I read a few lines.
I think we’re good.
What’s he gonna say,
meaning?
Throw that poet away.
I’ve got an appetite for stuff.

Many rules gonna get broken
for the net value.
You are not prepared for its worth.
You just think it’s ticklin’ time.
It’s like a Ouija Board.
Who moved that dial?
Quagmire.

I think you read me loud and clear.
Now let’s test this boat.
Too heavy for us.
I know;
you can’t do it,
wash your hands with Jewish genitals
and save the world.
See how smart you are.
You can’t get your head down your pants.

You need to go really, really, slow.
That book will scare you,
Between Jerusalem I’m Sorry.
Read that book.
It’s an understand the world book,
not just human genitals.
In this book they’re just redeemed.
Can you see Jerusalem?

Oh my God he’s on paper,
the Internet,
the whole world.
Green light,
oh we can go back
and change something
if it didn’t work.
What am I supposed to do,
with QAnon
and that whole Trump’s the savior mess?
Let’s get them meet the press
and it’s we lose our democracy
if they’re voted in.
You okay?

It’s in Nature to stick up like that.
This is a long poem,
exact words.
Give it with me,
the meaning of life.
Back them I didn’t realize, well,
your anxiety’s gonna come up.
I’m sorry,
give yourself a tight squeeze.
We’re handlin’ the book.

This poem needs a picture.
Who Hannah?
She’s a lovely dog.
Leading a dog
to where we belong in time.
Must be some book,
leading a dog through time.
You got my wolf?
I think it’s your wolf actually.
Anyway read the book.
Is that my measurement?
Yes sweetheart.
This person is solvin’ the world.
You got that Houston?

Which asks you to stretch.
It's not fun for The Family Guy either.
Small snake bite—
you won’t get away with it,
no matter how you read it,
without it doin’ you some number.
Enjoy it;
this is the end of the world
that doesn’t know its origin.

You’re headed for a disaster,
oh world we live in,
if you can’t bring this book to light,
or its ideas on some other page.
Look I’m talkin’ to yah straight.
No other book has the power
to bring you to change.
You mean it
where this book is bound to you,
and that’s a doctor,
the one you need right now.

You think I’m exaggerating.
It’s all in the book,
and I’ve just mentioned time.
Can you see that far?
I don’t think you’re even lookin’.
History has a book party.
I think you’ll find this book
in its Rolodex.

You’re not listenin’.
You’ve watched too many commercials.
I reader
am in the whole thing.
Read it
and don’t look back.

You want extra-terrestrial contact
I should ask.
I’m not talking about the one in spaceships.
This is bigger than words.
Okay talk to the world
the very nature of its see.
I’m showin’ you that
extra-terrestrial.
No other formula has it
quite to this degree.

You understand me?
The nature of the universe will talk to yah
in large poetry ships,
and the prose will just knock you sideways.
All in a day’s work
in that book.
You take it from here.

Anyway, let’s call most everybody:
what do you want to do when you grow up?
You want to be mountain and feel pregnant with the world?
Excellent,
I got it.
I got your book,
and we’re right here
in the lighthouse
Pondicherry U.S.A.
to the spirit of India,
where star wars meets the Earth
in Israel.
You got that car?
I’m drivin’ it down the street.
Hop in.
We’re happenin’.
We're leadin' a book through time.
Pondicherry lighthouse, photo by Donny

I Understand It

On By Donny Lee DukeIn applied nonduality, ego activism, Inner Voice and Vision, overhead poetry, seer poetryLeave a comment

an illustration by Margaret C. Cook for a 1913 addition of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

He did.
He figured it out.
You haven’t seen it.
Oh my God no one has even read it.
What is your name?
A holistic reader.
There’s a lot of censorship
of the ideas that make the world.

The world ran out of culture.
It couldn’t see itself.
It didn’t care.
It couldn’t come up with itself.
It just stayed where it was.
It didn’t know where it was.
It had no means for improvement.
It was small and intimate.
It was huge and dim.
It didn’t know where to begin.
It’s stomped on itself.
It raced ahead.
It lagged behind.
It wore horns no one could grasp.
We sit here and stare at it today,
just confused by what we see.

This was self-taught,
how we reach out and touch the world.
It didn’t come in the papers.
It wasn’t on the Internet.
No course in university taught it.
No book could grasp the whole.
It wasn’t in speech.
You couldn’t find it anywhere.

Everybody was afraid of it.
They thought it would bite them.
How to reach out and touch the whole
came from inner experience.
It was deeper than the world.
It really tested your boundaries,
and you had no choice but to surrender to its process.
It had your very being at heart.
It schooled you,
showed the inside of everything.
You never saw it completely.
You just handled it with care.
It would eat you alive
if you affronted its mission.

You understood it was a Larger you.
You saw it dream
a nation of particulars.
It gave you vision,
spoke to you with the inner voice.
You held it close to you
and processed its thought
into the unknown.
Great the days lay
the seat-point of vision.
You just studied reality
absolved in yourself.

You had no way to communicate this to men,
wherever you came from.
No poem would read it,
no prose spell it out.
The visual arts could not express it,
no drama act it out,
no dance routine show it,
even in its living room.
It was beyond itself.

If you got life that need a poet,
I’m your subject right here.
Now go floss
with the rest of that form.
You’ve left something incomplete.
If I just listen,
I’d find it out numbers me.
I’ve encountered a different verse.

Its form is amplified by common speech.
There is the line.
Give me back my lunch;
I can do nothing with the way it works.
See there
you’ve been taken in.
Now tell me I’m a Great Lake I’m ready to play.
Now tell me I was murdered.
You know I just heard the news and wrote it down.
I’m a five star hotel,
and I’ve got the muse
in poetry form.
I mean inner voices speak.
It’s the divine muse of poetry.

How raw and off the cuff.
It has every name involved.
It won’t leave you alone.
Now say I’m silly
understanding prose.
All is said
to top off the mountain,
to be a governor unto itself,
to let you fly in the word.
How could that be?
I don’t think I got all freaked out about it
as grey mountain.
The poetry of redemption lands here,
the upper money.

I will just let you fuck me,
give in.
I’m about to be homeless.
That death I was telling you about,
they take my sky away from me.
The ground of silence eats me up.
I become a Silent Mind.
Realization proves my calling.
There’s nothing else
to realize:
we’re in love
with the whole thing,
each business and everybody.
We grok this.

It’s standin’ on your shoe.
Great the papers play
in the immediate seat of your room.
Welcome to the lost word.
That’s the sound of silence,
a preface to Enlightenment.

A shortcut,
I can write it down.
What else
can we do?
Headphones surround—
you’re hearin’ the interior music.
You’ve opened up that wide.
Wrap up some milk
left you some poetry.
This is your ticket.

For you it would be nice
right here:
the grinding of the dog.
I’m a farmer.
This is my business.
I keep business spoken.
Pinecones have left to a civilization.
What are you guys?
TikTok
describin’ the universe,
time of missed a keyframe
and causality.
Whether you want to or not,
the movie echo system.
You said what?
Reality in this page.
I’m gonna listen to yah.
Good mornin’.

I’ll loosen poetry I’ll listen.
Find that way offshore.
But Enlightenment seeks.
Ask her about the whole thing.
Did you tell ‘im you’ll take the horses,
make that your team?
Not that saying but keep
outside science,
and never cry wolf.
Read my full exposed.
My hands are tied.
Make me feel better.
Make me feel so much better.
We’re in this cut;
at least our voices aren’t.
He actually science.
Cosmopolitan
I understood it,
no doubt.
He’s right in front of me.
I could sing up here for hours.

I have everything I need to start the revolution.
I’m a purpose.
I want a bigger world.
You can keep me out as long as you can.
I’m not gonna die.
I’m gonna change consciousness.
Look me over.
I’m real.
I am so very real.
You can’t get around me.
It’s reality I’m showin’ you,
all holistically laid out.
You can dance all you want.
Reality’s not goin’ anywhere.
It’s on the way to you,
even if you don’t want it.

Reality’s comin’ for you.
Hold your head up high and embrace it.
A poem with your name on it Marginalian.
Poetry works
I can’t ignore.
She’s busy,
clean up what happened:
showed herself a calloused human being,
with no feelings at all
for the man everybody hates.

There is no Whole behind the whole—
she shows you what that does to you
when you believe that.
You don’t have to love everybody,
and you can pick and choose.
You don’t even have to treat them human.
Your ethics just come from ground zero,
and you make ‘em up on the spot.

Okay Riviera,
let’s see you explore your consciousness.
Can you do that?
Wow, have you blocked things.
You will not be happy with yourself
on the other side.
Maria Popova,
live up to your ideals,
and that intelligence of yours,
taking it
to some encounter on the inside
you see the whole,
you see it all means somethin’.
Put your finger on it,
and let us hear your own source material.

Has the jacket,
a lonely packet,
of quoting the right material.
That’s starfish.
It says more than what you want it to say.
Okay I’m outta here.
I have to let you everything,
be a work in progress
understand human.
I’m reminding myself
of what I’ve been taught.
You can have this.
It’s a seer’s wisdom.
Handle it with care.

They were talking about
y’all are choosing the apartment
you’re gonna let this seer in.
I’ve reached out to so many people
over the years.
A big no they wouldn’t even tell me,
usually.
They just read me and tossed me aside.
Put up his banner,
that’s where we go.
Who stole the cones?
You know it’s not coming.
You’re here for the Rachel Carson.
Write someone back.
You never had more powerful that was the end of the game.

A Belief in a Miracle

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, scientific materialism, seer poetry, supermindLeave a comment
photo by the author

One of the ones that let me in,
that touched my soul,
profound mailbox.
I came homeless
year after year after year.

We’re good.
We don’t understand your concept,
the jolt in the room.
Let’s keep busy
so we don’t have to reply.
Is this license
to just take the trouble to ignore someone?
Seldom I got a reply.

The root task
and how profound it is.
It’s indeed the world.
It’s indeed larger than the universe.
I can’t carve this out for you.
I can only sing.

I don’t know the Rumpelstiltskin of your life’s work.
Your struggles are a Banyan tree to me.
See the consciousness there?
It has handles on it.
Study books and thought process,
I don’t think you’ll arrive at the explanation of the universe.

Can we hold a tree?
What do we do with time?
How do we say the world to ourselves?
Do you hear the inner speech?
It’s spoken softly in so many inner ears.
You’re readin’ it.

It’s what you hold in your hands
in an ancient text of wisdom.
Not everyone has the fire.
Not everyone can read the text right.

And we’ve come back to your story:
not everyone has the inner fire,
though they long to see the universe as it is,
though they long to be more than what they are.
Can you grasp this?

You light it that way:
the object of your romance with time
the inner fire
to see the Invisible.

I think you’ve accredited universities with this task.
I think you’ve stopped at representations.
I think you’ve stopped at outer process.
Hidden meaning.
Self-doubt see
in your own blue pen.

Who am I cooking?
Jessica Frazier
the academic.
Have a little
finger pointing in your own direction.
The TVS fixed.
It was incredibly difficult.

Why do you believe in miracles?
I’m standing one.
You hear my measurements?
The boy in the yard.
Bigger then reality
I have not made them.

For years I’ve been sending emails to scientists and academics, or I’ve commented on a tweet of theirs, usually with links to something I’ve written involving inner exploration. Less than a handful of times have I gotten a reply, and when I have it’s just to express thanks for reading them, not to engage me over the importance of such experience. This is the latest example of such an email. If you’ve been reading my latest poems, I’m trying to show where we fail as a world. Here, it was not from reasons of moral outrage, but it was one of the titanic: the best minds aren’t. It was from an ‘expert’, i.e., a person influencing world opinion on an official level, in this case a person assigning meaning to the world, not listening to someone trying to get their attention, someone who just might have something valuable to add to the conversation. Click on the link at the end of the email, read the article, and tell me that’s just not possible.

[Subject of email] “Communicating with someone, and learning what they have to teach us…

learning to adapt our view to the information they give.” From your YouTube video Gadamer. Hello, I’ve just read your article in Psyche “Ancient Indian texts reveal the liberating power of metaphysics”. I’d like to get to the heart of the matter as quickly as possible please. “We can do something extraordinary: our mental parts can climb out of the window of the body, and up into the higher levels of reality.” What a wonderful statement worded so well, but are you speaking literally of actual hands on spiritual experience, or are you talking about using your imagination and having high thoughts? I think it’s the latter, and it’s precisely here your article doesn’t capture truth, that being what’s actually going on or has. “I might live in 2022 in Oxford, but I can share the experiences of persons in Thailand or the US, and imagine different lives I might have lived. With the help of scientists and philosophers, I understand levels of the cosmos that lie beyond the senses, and can access realities, values or ideas that cannot be destroyed with any mere physical body.” What it seems not only you are missing, but also the scientific establishment and the humanities, as university teaches them, is that it’s possible to have the experiences that the mystics (or metaphysicians describe). They are not only basing their ideas on the use of their imagination or on their thoughts. Many if not most are basing them on firsthand experience. Furthermore, though beyond this email, the authors of the Upanishads and the Vedas did not compose their writings but heard them via the inner voice. Do you know the meaning of Agni in this context? In other words, the texts came whole and ready made from their inner vision, one or a few lines at a time, and they wrote them down, something not possible unless you’ve had the experiences the texts they wrote describe, what would open a Rishi or seer to such inner vision.

Although I can give ample examples of the latter, the inner voice writing one’s seer-poetry (you can look that up if you want), I will only give an example of the heart of the matter of the email. It would be quite something if you even read it. There’s just so much vying for our attention, and something from out of the blue and from someone unknown, well, that’s usually what automatically gets sacrificed to the expediency of time:

The Spoiler
What’s bigger than the universe? Hang on, What’s bigger than everything?

I Can Touch His Own Feeling

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, seer poetry, Silent MindLeave a comment
photo by Donny

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

Yes of course you can go beyond man.
I felt the house alone.
I stood there on a bridge of time,
not expecting outcomes.
I just saw reality.
It was frozen bare,
and it challenged me to think
surpassing thought.
I was alone in the room,
and even Nitish was there
and my beloved dogs.
I heaved,
approaching the Silence.
It was an illusive prey.
Infinity stole my mind.
It grabbed me by the Silence.

I was a good day.
I cooked lunch,
did my duties
and took care of the people around me.
They were fighting their own battles
and needed my help.
I stood there and be a friend.
I listened to myself
giving them what they need.
I was withdrawing from time.
I stared at the gates of forever.
It orange glowed.

I gathered myself.
I didn’t have any pockets.
Things were to me on the shelf.
I craved no vital indulgence.
I was tired of the play.
Relaxing it was just to stop my thoughts.
It stood upon a verge of time
unaccompanied by time.
I was in that place where God was
the spectator in the room.
Sri Aurobindo held my hand.
The Mother surrounded me.

I loved myself,
faults and all,
but I was in transit from the center of the room.
I was beginning to smile.
I was beginning to hold water,
reacting less to things around me,
but still a reaction bore.
It was a principled state
that divined the reality of others to themselves.
I felt them Self with me.
I felt them safe with me
reacting less and less.
The world was a communiqué and a sound.

Still I was hated
in Auroville
and by the yoga.
No one looked at me
with kind eyes.
I understood and did not hate in return.
I continued to send them postcards:
help me
undo being this outcast among you.
It fell on deaf ears.
I was pariah.
Hello?

Great big bold thoughts,
when they looked at me,
gave them pause to think
for one second.
That’s it.
No one would talk to me,
except to brush me off.
I realized the condition of man.
We are animals in nearness to each other,
even when we have our high ideals
and so many rhymes to sing.
When you’re an outcast you see that.

We are stuck in our ways,
and change is a four-letter word
when you hit that most basic stuff,
someone’s morality,
their motherland,
their lens with which they view the world.
Can you tell me what changes minds,
open hearts
to what they are closed to?
What a position I’m in to learn that.

Our race is doomed,
and the divine has chosen the wrong race to foster.
Change is incremental and slow,
if it happens at all.
But then I look in my own eyes
and see what’s happening with me.
Oh my God we have a chance.
Oh my God we have a chance.
How do you fill in light?
How do you bring change into the room?
You bring change into the room.
It won’t come any other way.
Okay children?

Reality

On By Donny Lee DukeIn applied nonduality, ego activism, seer poetryLeave a comment
photo by Donny

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

In a large distribution gap saw man,
a wide, territorial spree.
A trouble on islands,
they could not chapter this.
They saw each one to blame
but themselves,
or if they saw their faults
they didn’t recognize them in the field of play.
This screamed solution.
No power on earth could stop it.
Everyone saw themselves the leader of the play,
even when no leadership bore.

Listen to me I’m human—
social media post after social media post.
And they all cried:
I’m the development of man;
listen to me.
Nobody was a warehouse
of the exact thing in ourselves we needed to see.
This was how we play ball.
The game itself had no meaning.
We were Earth flat.
Nobody spoke our language
or could write up their own,
but they kept speaking.

Well the only thing I could do was cause trouble
with the abundance of you and I
in such a routine I told you so,
in such an abundance of I told you so.
I don’t think you understand this.
I think we are all spokesperson for humanity,
but what we are speaking we can’t say.
It’s all void of meaning,
not big enough to show the problem.
We nosedive into it
and break apart upon the seas.
It’s terrible inane,
and we can’t get past chapter 1.

Take it upon yourself to show this to us,
and no one sees it.
Everyone is a brick wall
when they need to see something
they don’t want to see.
Can we see nationalism in India?
Can we see Sri Aurobindo?
And we see Sri Aurobindo?
You read the Torah?
If God Himself told you to change it,
would you?
Muhammad’s infallibility,
tell me he’s not
something human.
Kill people because he is,
and that just puts us down.
Everybody see the Son of God?
Everybody see the fatherless God
born from sin?
And that’s how I believe in miracles,
excluding reality.
Are we alright with atheists?
I don’t want God to exist;
therefore He doesn’t.

Now let’s just start with standard room.
I hate bad people,
and they should be punished.
Oh great we saw man,
and wanted us to rub our nose in it.
A holistic reality isn’t a thing among us,
and here we are at where we’re at,
and no one could care less about reality,
and that’s my thought for the day,
where this poem sits in your lap.
Can you grasp inside it?
Can you get behind it?

The Waking of Pontius Pilate

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, seer poetryLeave a comment
photo by Donny, gimped by him, middle painting “Plato’s Cave” by Lalita Hamill, others source unknown

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

Read the stories around the area.
Read Mcdowell Christian’s story where he says he’s gay.
He’s been made a knight of honor
by the press.
Even Anglican bishops compromise over him.
No way
you’re gonna laugh his book to death.
You’ll make him the star of the show.
Oh my God his struggle brings you to tears—
the narrow-minded people along his way.

Woke agenda,
this is the story today
in our Liverpool.
Good God almighty great balls of fire, [heard sung]
everybody’s mean, you know it?
I think you’re too woke to see this:
how you have to have some disadvantaged marginalized people to kick around.

It’s not sufferin’ you’re lookin’ at.
You’re lookin’ at what’s easy to look at.
You won’t even look at the pedophile
except to hate his name in public.
It’s socially acceptable to kick him around,
enjoy watching him killed.
Can you say the word spaz?
How sensitive to people’s pain you think you’ve become,
those of you writing words out of our lexicon.

Wait a second,
will you throw me a line?
I’m writing the poetry of the world and nobody reads me,
and I am more outcast than Noah.
I sit in my house and write these poems to the world,
and all you read is the scarlet letter P,
and my poems do not get passed around.
I’m just a dirty creature with fangs.

Come out, come out, wherever you are
the woke person truly there.
Feel my pain.
My whole family’s disowned me,
those blood ties you celebrate so much.
It’s not a real joint.
I’m not even allowed to be alive
if you study the fine print in the news.

Now let’s talk about miracles.
I’m not a monster you know.
I’m so bright and shiny it’s not even funny,
and here I am talking to you.
Where is the thought police?
Why hasn’t cancel culture canceled me?
Years I’ve been on the road
a social media page.
Come on let’s get real.
I show you what woke really means, don’t I?

And I’m not talkin’ about racial politics,
sexual identities,
and all that jazz.
Do you see reality or the agenda you wear?
Do you even remember your dreams?
I’m a laughing stock.
I’ve seen reality outside of the cave,
and I know more than shadows
along the wall.

I’ll tell yah about a story
about yourself.
Football yourself,
Mr. Davis,
all in love with divinity. [heard sung]
Television ran out.
A hillbilly question:
is God really the nature of the universe?
Taste the Sugar.
You want it now.
You are the Sugar you see.

Mode of vehicle does not determine birth.
Identity politics,
where is this vision free?
What’s your contribution?
Is it for the whole race?
You have marginalized me to the nth degree,
and I sing your song.
I am all about your meaning.

I have a question.
What do they call
a bit more
than the alphabet among us?
Poetry it’s been explained to you changes the world
or at least has impact.
When they’re not supposed to be there,
we’ve become so blind,
poems come to open our inner sense,
and now you’re reading mine.
Will you allow me in my meditative friend?

Sri Aurobindo Birth Cemetery

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, seer poetry, supermindLeave a comment
from Twitter

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

Tear the whole thing apart.
I’ve been writing all of my life,
over a lifetime’s hole,
the orange and white.
I shake my hips and sing.
Some call me indecent.

Do penises shame?
Do they dance and sing?
It's so down to earth your control program:
nice and cool
leave the boy alone.
We can get over matter.
The most gorgeous boy in the world’s layin’ beside me,
and I’m writing a poem.

Now where do we do business?
That goes there. [vision of a TV screen in snow static]
Walkin’ to Sri Aurobindo’s birth anniversary.
I live it down.
All this interest he’s generated is not sincere.
I don’t know how to tell you this:
he’s clickbait.

Grab his pants will yah?
I’m awfully strong.
I feature in lit fests,
in everybody’s alter ego.
I liberated India
and will the superman bring.
I am bigger than the world,
but I’m only in Indian subcultures:
tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet.
We put the energy abounds,
the mesmerizing of a name.

Okay take him apart.
Where would we put him?
I don’t think we can find him
in his early quotations.
Do you know the fullness of his thought?
He wasn’t a barnstormer.
He wasn’t even a nationalist in the end,
where so many put him.
He got bigger than stars.
Would we say Supermind is an Indian thing?
He’s callin’ the shots
for the whole damn race to change.

So pigeonhole him
the nationalistic spirit.
Be a lie unto yourself
because you vote for Trump.
I’m sorry, I’m crossin’ lines.
Can we say Trump’s Modi?
They’re not identical twins.
It’s a time spirit phenomenon
all wrapped up nice and pretty.
Nations are heaving with nationalism.
Hear India?

I don’t know which one there is victory or defeat.
I’m not a time spirit reckoning.
I just came to say Sri Aurobindo
is not a nationalistic voice.
He saw Supermind on earth,
and that was his evolutionary aim,
and that’s what he showed us
much better than we think we saw.
You’re all wrapped up in particulars.
Let’s look at the Sun, shall we?

I think he built a bridge
from here to there,
there beyond this field of stars.
It’s bigger than the universe,
even if you don’t understand it.
I’ve studied there
in one great big moment of my life,
the only way you can see there:
be there.
I’ve offended everybody I know.
It’s not that you believe me;
read me
and tell me I only know here.

Now can we get past a name?
They trip us up every time.
Okay put a pedophile in Supermind1
for one sudden moment in life,
and we’ve found a way out of name.
You got it.

________________________________________________________________

  1. For a description of the experience click here.

Love Is

On By Donny Lee DukeIn applied nonduality, ego activism, seer poetryLeave a comment
photo by Nitish

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

A spread of humanity
in Indian business,
that’s the way.
Everbody’s calling cards,
their race card,
caste or religion.
I’m tellin’ yah the direction is up.
We’ve been clannish too long.
Hear what I’m sayin’?

What would govern us?
Some say love it is a fountain. [heard sung]
I can only quote love,
give it divine wings.
It’s the psychic fire in us
recognizing the unity all is,
and with this soul lamp
we will argue in favor of God.

It’s not the God of Hindus,
however many you may count.
It’s the Supreme in each of us
bearin’ out Its world.
I can light the fire
in my own soul’s keeping,
in the middle of my own life,
to bring God closer to me
when I see your face,
in any face I see.

This is not popular.
It’s not the rule of the crowd.
It’s God on earth my friend
manifesting His reality among us.
We need to get over the divisions among us
in our heart’s call to the world.

Can you see this in India
and still love India,
and still be a Hindu, Muslim, or Sikh?
Does God count rainbows?
Each one is His smile upon the world.
Tell everyone
God’s on earth you see.
That’s the epiphany.

I was born yesterday,
and I’m pushin’ the envelope now,
a foreigner
just blinding speaking his piece,
a foreigner causin’ trouble;
would you handcuff me this way?

Let me make myself clear:
God I love you,
I’ll put it on the freeway
and drive that idea across country—
and keep your eyes on the roadway at all times.

Ego Activism

On By Donny Lee DukeIn applied nonduality, ego activism1 Comment
It’s everybody, not just you seein’ this kid, art, representational. Photo by Donny

Launch of Will
In this system
show you guys how to do it.
What is office in the film?
That’s ego activism.
I’ve had enough.
Are you sure you’re sorry?
You’ve said it.
And we hear from the crowd.
They see me in my underwear.
Sing hallelujah to the Lord. [heard sung, song “Sing Hallelujah”]
What do I do with Joseph?
Isn’t that
my own enigma?
Help makes it
vocally present.
Go 900.
The heaviest place on earth,
you go in it,
a chest of healing.
I got ears.

Ego activism (the short list)— dynamic social action using one’s creativity to undermine the dominance of the human ego in the world, one’s own ego as well as the ego in general. It has the aim to quicken human evolution out of this ego stage of identity. It recognizes the primacy of the ego as the root of the problems in the human condition, and while it may address individual problems, such as climate change, sexual assault, mass murder, and racism, to name pressing ones today, it sees the solution in not giving primacy to the ego but to a more integral and unified human identity based on oneness, on the part of everybody, not just the people manifesting this wrong or that, their own ego being the primary ego the activist aims to surpass.

It does not point the finger at the behavior of others without three fingers pointing back at the activist, and when it does point the finger, it does so with compassion and understanding, for one’s self as well the ones being pointed out, keeping out of its attitude self-righteousness, judging, blaming, anger, hatred, and violence. It engages people with sincerity, vulnerability, beauty, and a knowledge of truth, truth not being any religious formula but what’s actually going on. While it’s never mean, it is frank and honest, is not afraid to speak its piece or call a spade a spade, and while pacifism is its preferred mode of action, it’s not adverse to the activist physically defending themselves and others if the genuine need arises.

Self-sacrifice, however, is a major characteristic of ego activism, not however, the kind that surrenders to the condemnation and punishment of the world, which would be surrendering to the ego and its methods, but the kind whereby the activist is willing to put themselves at great risk in conducting the action, not foolish, impulsive risk that has harm to the activist or death as its probable or certain outcome, but wise, calculated risk that has both the needs of the activist and the world at heart and in harmony whatever the outcome.

Can We Find Forgiveness?

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, Inner Voice and Vision, PoetryLeave a comment
Ravena, Auroville, photo by Donny

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

This is like fire.
This is electricity,
horses, I don’t know.
Take the sound off.
You have a pay by go guide,
a living tree.
What do I do with it?
It’s not of public interest.
You hear me?

Magical,
it broadcasts the sun.
I just sit here and read it.
It’s got lives in it.
It’ll tell you anything you need to know.
So much to hear.

I’m not fond of it
where poems are concerned.
It’s like a tunnel I have to go through.
It’s got me until the end.
Can you say it?

Let’s twist the words around I’m sorry,
can you meaning?
No, it’s not a broken muse.
I’m godawful sorry
for things.
I don’t know how to show this to you.
Do I take my hat off?

I think about you a lot,
where feeling meets life.
I don’t drag my wrong through my mind at every moment.
I think about how you feel.
I put myself in your shoes.
Remorse has this as a gun.
Repentance means these words
and a lifetime of service to humanity.

I gut feeling this.
I’m racked by your pain,
sit at my computer and cry
when I encounter it,
or in my mind’s eye when I rove around the world.
Your loss rents my breast,
the pain of the tortured child,
the destroyed city,
the puppy dog that’s lost its owner,
the man that’s done something wrong,
terribly hurt somebody.
I want to gather you all up in my arms
a power of God to heal,
but I have not God’s strength,
and I can only feel my inadequacies to help.

Let me tell you my strategy.
I have a world
in front of my face,
all these people I care for,
tend to when they’re sick,
encourage them when they’re down,
counsel them when they need,
cook for them when they’re hungry,
shop for them when they need things,
carry their dreams in my heart
to help give some interpretation.

I listen to them.
I hold their hands.
Half of them are dogs.
A puppy is to me a human child,
and I spend all day with one,
giving her that special attention,
and with a human child,
giving that concentrated care.
It’s how I take care of you.
When I look in their little eyes I see all the world.

Can you feel me here?
I am a servant of mankind.
I am my brother’s keeper,
and I love you so very much.
Have you heard me?

Forgiveness is a model
for the road to understanding.
It’s not something you do
like a magic out of thin air.
We know not yet the issue of our deeds.
We cannot see their fount.
We have a whole ride to do that,
a great big storybook to learn.
It takes inner searching
to a degree most are uncomfortable with.

Understanding comes that way,
in the middle of forgiveness.
Can we learn forgiveness?
Can we bring peace on earth?