Special thanks for this moment— Bruno. At his side, he getting a life-saving blood transfusion, I wrote the poem
The most gates at society, hey! Propped on the sand in an eurythmic sweet sense, I look at humanity in raw oysters. There’s nothing there that makes us rise above our bull. We get decimated sometimes, and the humility lasts an hour. I don’t understand all this mess. It’s popcorn and candy to our sense of self tryin’ to prove our worth to one another. Look how big I am, and we can say that so subtly. I mean look at me will yah?
Can we spend this? It’s expensive not to see. I count this in humanity in everywhere I wait, in all the plays of the crowd. I want to get bigger than myself. Little everybody treats me, and I’m offended in my self-wears, and little I am. I can’t seem to see this when I’m in a fight. I don’t know how to handle it when I’m spellbound. Can I list my achievements please? Can I show you my worth, again?
Do I have to eat lunch with myself again? You’re not listening to me. If I was two I’d pitch a fit. That’s where I learn to get you to pay attention to me. I get expert at it by the time I’m twelve, and then all hell breaks loose, and I’m just shit-canned again, too old to get my way. Is that when the braggin’ starts? I have got to show you I’m worth, but I’ve lost all the old ploys, and I’m doin’ it again, wantin’ you to validate my self-worth the modicum of humanity.
Is that all turned on to kick-start our humanity, the pedestal I preach to you? Wow, I can sound so good in words. Do I hide behind my writing I knock down every word I say in some pinch or another that my hypocrisy wears? The hypocrisy of others stuns me. I’ve never seen anything like it anywhere on the planet. There is no accountability for it.
Wow do I read sweet words. Can you solve the problem with love without love? You just get likes for it. Nowhere does it bring social change. The social understanding that you’re the victim too, my God that’s the pants we wear. Get people arrested will yah? That’s all you’ve done. You’ve crime and punishmented the thing. Everybody gets mad at people. It’s how you social change, with a baseball bat, but we can’t hypocrisy our way out of this. Love has to be love or it’s not love. Understanding holds you sweet. It doesn’t embarrass you in front of the crowd.
Where do we go with our social understanding to see the lies arise in everybody where we find our brotherly love? Can you understand that? I can’t cover this. I can’t even say it. You just write beautiful words. You don’t mean them, and there’s no way to show you you don’t. You’ve got that covered. You can’t see them in the arms they wear. You can make yourself sound pretty good, but unconscious springs get yah when the spell of your unconscious arise and offers your behavior to meanness.
There is not a day I don’t encounter this in somebody. You’ve encountered a rat in everything society says about me. The principles of love and pray don’t apply here, and you have permission to shoot me in your thought, and that’s a release mechanism like all society wears. If I even say the name you’ll hate me, and there is no way out of this.
I could have done a better poem and kept my social status out of this, but we can’t spend your hypocrisy on nothin’. You’re just bruise your shield in that unspeakable name. Now where you at? I don’t think it’s in loving shares. Oh you do your family alright, a satellite I, but to love humanity you must wear everything in humanity you hate, identifying with that behavior. It don’t come out any other way, the principle in your subconscious communicating that spell “oh I’ve encountered someone I don’t like,” and in the roles of identity you have to know you’re there: I am humanity. This gets larger than everybody, but you can’t find it without accepting everybody.
The roles are mean, even in children, and I need to see this in myself, and I bridge it that way to its appropriate goodness. You hear this now. I’m taking myself and getting myself out of the way, not for any humanity worth, not so you can see me. I just want to be myself, okay, the actual me, the thing I am behind the play, not yet angel wings, but the natural me that’s not stuck to anything that can afford to be nice because nice is what it does our human soul, and nary a subconscious spell can touch it, no matter where you meet life.
The basement’s all cleaned out, and this comes down from on high, if you want to know the truth of it. You can’t just declare your love. You have to raise it up out of you in the skeletons you wear. Can you get my pen rose? Can you hear it please? You have to get down and dirty and clean, at least in the eyes you wear. Whatever you do, see it.
I’m gettin’ down to the natural colors of my room. Do you hear that? Look at yourself some mirror. Roles involved with sweetness, and you’re being bigger than the heys of the crowd. Just don’t recognize that’s where you want mental health to go. Good for her, good for him, take advice.
Real life forum for the discussion of school peace, a brick, that brick has something to do with you. We don’t wanna do it, continue, and we face certain destruction. Death is ever on our knee, and the world fail is in the picture now. A sudden storm could kill us. We are never safe, and we just explode all the time, come to hope and then crash, come to bay and then sink.
If you are left out of this loop, eventually your cross will come. We are not safe from crisis, and we are manipulated to star’s end over the avoidance of such. Some have good fingers, some no. Just look out for what’s right. You have it all the time, in some speaker in your room.
The avoidance of death is not possible, but we can make peace with our time that comes. We can ground ourselves in reality, and we can even see what’s ahead, and if there’s disaster ahead, well this is the crux of the matter ain’t it? We don’t want the suffering to kill us. We have to find a solution, or chaos reigns.
And what of prolonged disaster? I have been rejected by society like men on death row, and there is no way to climb out of this hole. It’s pleasant enough. I live in a bright home, and no one will see me there. I’m not value to anyone except whom I can count on one hand. This is deliberate and mean. It’s not the normal social isolation. So shoot me for it and let’s move on.
I’ve measured humanity in my bare hands. I have been to the top and the bottom of this old world. I commune with spirits and the impossible. I have seen things you don’t want to see, and I’m not talkin’ murder and mayhem. I’m talking about the fresh expression of the universe ploughin’ us down to make its see, how the Gods sit in their homes and use us as dice in their gambles on the world, and we get crushed, and how God watches too big to help. We are at a certain level of universe that pay the price. We sit on Heaven’s back the sustenance it needs to survive.
I have found a way out of this. I have found the truth of who we are, and it’s a slow movement’s crawl to the goal, when this is time on earth. I’m not filling you with hope I’m filling you with seeing. We are bigger than all that. We are outfielders from another universe that encompasses this one. We abide there now on our tops.
I’m speaking from there in the knowledge I give. It’s clear and certain knowledge, and it will open up the whole world to you one step at a time. It will mitigate disaster, break in on it and help you rise above it. It will sit with you at night and hold your hand. We are a dream weaver’s store lost in our dream, and it’s a collective dream that we share together, and we will wake up together when the time comes. That’s the certainty of dream.
Now can I honest myself here? I’m a pauper when it comes to Earth’s stuff, but I’m rich in meaning’s worth. I’m a brink in the wall that is us, but you can take me out and see time, remove me and see beyond the universe. I crumble in my own hands, and even in my tears, if I cannot feel the joy on my tops, I know it’s there.
I have given formulas for world change, and they go by unnoticed. I have laid practicality at philosophy’s door, given psychology wings, and taken the big questions and answered them right in front of your nose, and the mind meets understanding, and I’m just this existence worth that has no place among you. You think so?
I’m gonna dictate mission impossible. With all due respects, can we land society here, I’m conducting a sense of sacrifice where I meet the world? I’m writing this with a déjà vu. Even if you have not had your lives torn asunder, do not find yourself in hell on earth, or smell that awful stench near, can you make ends meet, support yourself and your family and not have to struggle all the time?
I’m talking to the great majority of mankind. Oh my God, poor people gonna rise up, get their share. [sing this and above line, tune “Talkin’ Bout a Revolution”] Can I sing to you another song? It’s the only way to be human on this planet, whatever your religion or creed or nationality. We temper our hearts with a sense of sacrifice. I’m talkin’ to the captains of business and all who make a profit sting.
You can tax the rich all day, and you haven’t met them in their homes, where they need to see their lives are propped up on so much suffering. Cynical people don’t need me I know, and people that run over other people to make them pay are not interested in changin’, but do we have to back them up in society and pretend it’s not happening, the great rape of mankind?
Yep there is. It’s everywhere apparent, and politicians take off our shoes and show us other stuff. Can any responsible journalist hear me, concerned teacher in school, professor? Preacher from your pulpit look at this, temple master. Can we talk about sacrifice in business as a way to heal humanity, / discuss this every day where politicians get our vote, where the rich see TV and governments listen?
Why is world fail? No matter who you blame it on it always comes down to this: somebody’s getting rich at the expense of others, at the expense of the environment, at the expense of us. It’s not a hole in one each time, and there are other factors, but tell me this one has no bearing on today’s world. Tell me it’s a trivial matter. Why aren’t we talking about it where we rise up and make social change?
I’ve put this in your hands right alongside the transcendent, how we get by in this place. I’ve put it right alongside social justice, without mentioning punishment or the price of beer, I mean sex roles and how you spend them. I’m givin’ yah things to talk about in a voice that matters. I’m showin’ you what’s up. Thank God I’m lost on social media. Just think if word got out. Mainstream do you hear me? I’m lettin’ the cows out. I’m lettin’ the rich hear me. I’m taking social justice by the wings.
What is the formula for world change? C-o-m-e t-o t-h-e t-y-p-e r-o-o-m. Your typewriter to write it. Eternity is a crossing reference for the that’s how the book of love. [sing line from the word that’s] So much more beyond our horizons. I’ve been up there you know, on our tops, and I’ve failed you. I just kept goin’ in an old movie and racked up my isolation today, again and again. Bless you I’m sorry.
Sacrifice is the only way to meet these things: you have to have it, and it hurts other people. Nothin’ you could do but give that up: boy I hurt you. This lasts a long time, where you find others lookin’ at yah funny and suspicious of your every move. You will not be rewarded for sacrifice.
Get that through your thick head if you’re making a profit on people’s pain. Turn philanthropist I’m sorry, and you’re givin’ till it hurts because you love them so, well that’s tough idn’t it, no one believes you. You’re still around money.
But you’ve come a long ways, and you’re not doin’ this for the praise of the crowd. That’s hypocrisy. You sacrifice your Wall Street for love. I can’t tell you how to do that, fall in love with everybody, and with some people it will never work, but you at least learn to identify with them. It does start with empathy, and then it goes through spiritual change. You see the oneness danglin’ everywhere, and you want to make it right with all there is. I guess that’s the stoppin’ point for this poem: let’s begin that shall we?
All since childhood I went busy with it, the message I’m supposed to give of another. It makes for short poetry. Where are my feelings for me? It’s been the subject of my lifetime. Self-centered rides there, but so does a vantage point to study life, the name of existence on my lips. I can only see me as the protagonist of this drama, only imagining what it’s like to be another. That’s not self-centered fact.
I live here: watching the world go by the center of myself. You do too, and I’ve found this out myself: our integers are the same. What makes a person a person fills both our bottles and crashes them at the same time.
The social hierarchy will not let me poet to you the discovery we are the One. I cannot wear a poet label because I have not yet been given it by the crowd, and I bleed to tell you things.
I’ve been all over this place, climbed the mountaintop, sojourned in hell. I have been on broad rivers of mankind, and I have suffocated in stinking swamps. I have entered duality to wear them both till kingdom come, and then I get saved by the bell. Reach inside me and see I’m writing the papers of existence, and I help existence be.
I’m fighting for my room. You cannot harbor the truth, the truth of anything in its bare-bones reality. They will get you for it, the powers that be. Reality is being fed to us on a silver platter with cyanide, and we all believe the lies.
I’m easy to take down. I’m the most hated scapegoat of the day, but that opens up truth in a man, having to face himself to society’s mirror, and you are sincere to the test. It can open up worlds of seeing. It can make you love humanity when your self-love has joined the same.
We stand on great big tests today that eat our lunch. Never a lie’s been told, the dinjins will tell you and mothers and fathers all over this land and governments and snake pit operators. Oh my little child you are safe in how we rule things. You must dog eat dog and get out there and compete for bread. It’s greatness of your kind. The devil dance on a great mankind, and we will go to war to prove it.
Now let me tell you somethin’. It’s all subterfuge. We are avoidin’ what makes Tommy safe, Wendy grand. We have to flower in our room to humanity my dear, find the Self in everyone, and let that be our guiding light to discovering God lookin’ at the world through our eyes in the fullness of his vision here on earth. I just told you the truth, what’s happenin’ in the evolution of time on earth, in the world play we’re all a part of. That’s the secret that all existence hides. Can’t you see it yet?
photo by the author taken in a secret five minute meeting with Nithish nine months ago
I’m fighting stars. I have no idea I can’t do anything unless my muse reads it to me. You are the couch existence sits on to write. Still hasn’t found you able to write anything. Here, do this circle.
No matter what I say, no matter what I dream, I can’t get rid of those institutes that go against the grain of society in compelling posts. I have been left without my boy and wondering if he’s better off without me. I am bereft of hope, and this is bigger than my boy. Is the whole thing a tin can?
Is existence squeezed out of existence by the Diamond Bearer? Is this all a charade, and even God himself can’t stop cryin’? Is there a safe harbor anywhere, a safe place? I’m talkin’ existence big.
Thank you I’m smart and can see the ruse in everything, even my own ruse. I can’t change my consciousness to save my life, and I know what change means. Are the roads to Supermind blocked by Supermind? Is enlightenment just a scare? What gives?
Do you know how fucked up everything is? Do you know how big it is, the screw in everything? We can’t climb Mount Everest with that. We are foiled by cliff hangers, and we can never reach the top, and in the history of poetry I have to explain to you symbolism. Nothing gets out of my bag.
Do you know how tall that is? I’m meaning’s worth, and I keep reaching holes in my story. I don’t understand all that is, but I know Gods play with us, and there really are monsters under the bed. Can you see my daily life?
Bigger than being it arrives from distant shores, the very breath of being, and it gets there all the time, in our underwear. I cannot move this molestation. Are we fucked from the very first? There’s a hole in the program. Whatever it is that uses us for existence is unhinged? That’s how the story grows?
What guarantee do we have that it is safe? Are we existence’s pall bearers? Alright arouse my pen are we safe from the universe? I question everything. In the horror of day to day living, living where peace finds us and goodwill, you can’t condemn it all to understand. You can’t even breathe.
Do you know we eat bread together on the inside, and I am you and you are me? That’s the joke ain’t it, we spit on that. I’m goin’ somewhere, even if I don’t believe it sometimes. I’m tryin’.
There I am on cars, and I carry the world around all day a poet’s worth. I have these great big thoughts that ground. I mean I’m a scout for the human race really involved with you. I question my own worth, but that’s not throwin’ myself away. I work in the engine room of humanity, and I don’t even think you know there’s there, for what it’s worth.
We haven’t found ourselves yet larger than our own personal skulls, dangnabbit. I’m a shopping spree of the limits of ideas. I can do it, get out there where no thoughts are, and I can hold existence in my hand. Is that a safety rope? I’m gettin’ underneath things not because I have to because I love you, and we can figure you my little boy.
I witness the safety ground, and I’m lookin’ for it in the large eyes he wears, and I could just tear my heart out, you know?
I have the living room in my hand, and I got a shot at Earth lead me to him. That’s the death of a unicorn has almost swallowed him whole, and he don’t know how to feel right, my little boy.
I’m comin’ upon him now. I’m placing a wall. I thought for a brief time there’s no doubt about it this is what he wants to flower with me.
You can’t lose your job. James, I’m tellin’ yah the truth. You will have his little hands in yours again, right there on bright Earth, where the Earth makes sense. You’re fillin’ a role in the sky.
I didn’t allow there’s monumental change ahead. What happened? It’s alright— monumental impact. Well here’s the movie here’s the camera, and I’ve got ‘im, I’ve got ‘im in my pocket. [sing this and above line] Can this be like all played out?
Wide God, did he actually go to touch that? No, he resurrected Tommy another poet live on earth; another poet rides the Earth.
White supremacy for mayor uttered in Wilmington. They just chopped people to pieces. The injustice lags the sky. I don’t believe it happened. I cried when I heard about it. Can we play that again?
We do it every day, not massacres, although they come along. We put people in power that hate Blacks. We give White supremacy a place at the table and call it by other names. We don’t know how to count it. There isn’t a racist person in the state. Even a White supremacist will tell you that.
Do you know how they feel, the Black people at the table? Of course they’re racial gatherings. What do we do with their anger? We don’t know how to handle it. It’s hatred for us, and nobody gets better that way. Nobody even knows what’s goin’ on. We are stirred up by so many people, and the unseen lends a hand.
Not all good people are good. A Kumbaya feast doesn’t do any good. Racial unity, we have to address our sins first. We have to see them there. It’s a feelin’ we have around Black people, even with our smiles on. I’m sorry will you get the broom and sweep the house? I’m gettin’ at colored folks in the drawing room of White men. We face each other not as equals. Our attitude hangs out the beekeeper. They are inferior to us in our American bones.
These are racial wounds we spit on and light on fire in the complacency of man. How do you get rid of this? You shove it down people’s throats a woke system. That did a lot of good. The White supremacists took over. What do we do now? We arrange guns and burn down houses. You think this’ll work? We just break apart our nation and cause a lot of hurt.
Racial aren’t the only issues in the sky. There’s livin’ with each other bein’ true to one another. We put our cap on and show genuine to people, because we feel it, the confusion of everybody in the hurtin’ of life. We know we’re dumb too. We have to protect ourselves yeah, but we take our hats off to everybody and give them a little bit of us if they ask.
How do I get this across? It’s a squeeze test. Most people aren’t genuine. Some people want to hurt you. You have to know where to step. You can’t carry your heart on your sleeve. You have to know when it’s time to get out of Dodge. You are generous but wise. I can’t give you the roof over my head. I can’t empty my pockets for you.
Now we come to the meaning of the Earth. It’s not racial reports. It’s how we all survive. We get in with each other to make the Earth work, and it’s bigger than life. We are bigger than Negroes and White men, bigger than any gender we wear. It’s across the great divide, our true life and purpose.
You hear a Daniel say that today. I’m in the lion’s den right among you, and no one has eaten up my flesh, but I can feel the breath upon my door of some dangerous shit. Can you hear me I’m tired, but I’ve opened up humanity in myself, and I’m doing it again. Will you sup with me? Will you even try?
Speak lotus, these were reminds me these were come up in these poems something of Wilmington has happened here in Pondicherry. It’s race related. I’m not Indian. A parenthood of oppression blights this land. I’m standin’ up for my boy. Free him please. Don’t let this tragedy go down unnoticed.
The details would scare you, and I’ve named them in other poems. His name is Nithish, S. Nithish, and he needs help. I sit here flabbergasted at the amount of lies that make up this story told to policemen and child welfare and so many other people.
They put their Indian first each time and the rightful law and order of the land that made their parental rights supreme, the underbelly the lie that India will not wake up from. Children are crushed by their parents, abused and beaten and forced to give up their lives for school. Hours of tuition at night kill their playtime, and disorders such as dyslexia and dyscalculia are unrecognized. They’re beaten for bad grades.
This is right and proper in India. They just took my boy behind the woodshed and killed him for parental loyalty, all in the eyes of the law. He has lost his personality, had his identity crushed. What this has done to his character will put him in his father’s shoes, a man who has murdered four men in Pondicherry targeted by his gang, on bail now for attempted murder that never went to trial. The case has been overlooked. This is standard procedure in Pondicherry if a powerful gang is involved. People get away with murder.
I have to stand here and watch all this happen to my boy, and I can do nothing. I’ve even been to the press and contacted every major NGO in India that deals with child cases. I’ve threatened hunger strike, but the divines I look to said no. I’ve written poem after poem, giving these circumstances, but the social conditions of a blog put likes in my hands, put readers, but I can’t arouse the crowd for my boy and get this matter looked at by proper hands. I can’t get off my blog.
Is this stupid, to talk about this injustice, to tell you my boy needs help. I am just a Black newspaper of 1898 this happened at Wilmington, a whole town overthrown by White supremacists, and no one believed them because they’re Black newspapers?
The New York Times and the Washington Post, and all the major news, came to scoop the story. Met at the train station with the royal treatment, the leaders of the coup put them in hotels and told them lies they all believed: Nithish is in the hands of his parents where he belongs, and the Indian order has been restored, the natural order of things; his father’s an outstanding citizen rich now in business, his mother a gentle soul that would never harm a child; we have him in school 11 hours a day because he’s acting and don’t want to study; we know he’s smart, and this is India, and we make school the center of a kid’s life for our national pride. Buy me another drink aldermen, and I’ll put in our newspaper what you said.
Would it alarm you his mother paid bribes? Even to the authorities. Okay, okay I’ll shut up, but I’m a Black man in a White man’s world, and no one listens to me. Can you hear this? It happened in Wilmington.
The offices of the Daily Record, a Black-run newspaper, were burned by a White mob during the Wilmington massacre of 1898. (New Hanover County Library)
Can I fly my hypotenuse a jersey on existence, I mean cans? This whole world is a big block. Everything’s in small measure. There’s no room for elbows. I can’t get yah to change your mind there’s a bigger party than this. Your little room is your little room folding existence upon itself. I wear those sleeves too, but I get out and abroad, you know?
We are lifetime wears. It’s a stinking ship. Just ask your neighbor you hate, or all the money you make at the expense of other people, the information you give that ain’t true, the self-righteousness that drives your car, and all your thoughts bent on death for those who’ve crossed you. Am I leavin’ your telephone number out? I don’t think so.
I can name names. Even the good on Earth do it in. Would you love that bad person to death? Would you get out of your family role and bring a stranger to dinner to sup with your kids risk and all? These are the roles of the One in flavorful chairs, and I’m usin’ analogy to get at device. How can I tell you you sail too the shape we’re all in? Do you see our pumpkin? It’s a safe haven for everyone.
We are littleness meets the stars confined to one room. It’s a prison house of escape. We can go so many places, with narrow openings, and it’s a secret from the crowd. I can’t prove to you I’ve been there, but you hear that sound now. I’m tryin’ to get bigger Earth, so we can mean somethin’ with our lives and not take a stranger to death.
I grapple with existence like it’s my magnet, all this poem to pull you along. We’re going to get there you see. It’s only a matter of time. It’s larger than wood, than our feelings’ meanings in time. Our thoughts can’t get there except on some spaceship that’s blasted off from Earth bigger than any thought you’ve ever had. We’ve got to bust out of our shell in the pains of life oneness denizen models. You know I’m countin’ score.
Now let’s get on with it. Can I give you a blog as a purpose of a universe? You’re not going to believe it’s in time, the whole meaning unfold that meets us right where we’re at. Harm’s End I’ll say it again and a collaboration with the unknown, and some Twitter eye in focus. I’ve did it. I’ve grasped the universe right in your pocket. Start with this poem and go from there. You will arrive at the universe I guarantee it. No one has done this before with their hand on the button of life.
I’ve surrendered you to abstractions. Do add-ons care? May we hit the role in the machine, get to very deary wood. I’m a pencil outside of myself. I’m not the me generation. Can you generate outside of yourself? Can you get there? I am the center of everything, and as much as we see this we don’t. We judge by selfishness a bottle unto ourselves.
Can you put yourself in the murderer’s shoes? Can you be someone liberal if you’re conservative? Can you be that priest that molests kids if you’re survivors of incest? Alright can you just be your wife if you’re too tired to deal with the kid crying at night? Can you be your neighbor, and they need you to take their kids to school, but you’re late for work? Can you be the guy at the grocery store that’s asking you for small change or at least I see you smile? Can you be your coworker late again, but you don’t tell anybody? Can you even be your kid, and he’s been caught with his pants down not to your sudden fury? Too tired to go to work, we can’t identify with people. We can’t look outside of ourselves.
It’s all the rage be offended. You know what I mean dear heart? You know what I mean expanded notion? If I haven’t hit home examine yourself. You’ll get better.
Now where do we play school? Getting bigger than ourselves in life’s little room. Watch those reactions. Give some pride to other people. Is that too tall for you? It’s what we’re here for in the basics of bein’ human.
Oh my God this mind stinks, and we shoot it down with bright ideas. Did we reach anybody? Only the choir. Oh my great big beautiful humanity we’ve got it all wrong. We heart with each other. We expose ourselves to vulnerabilities of feeling. This is the prize in the room: that heart’s safe to be with, you know? It’s what they remember you with, you know?
You can land a hypotenuse all over the freeway to capture the sun’s rays geniusin’ your way to a household name, but those around you know your love, how your heart is around people. We educate the mind, put it first in school, put it only in school as what matters more than anything else, and we are heart matters with each other. The rule and scale of mind is not our hypotenuse. It’s not where we get along with each other. The heart owns the whole show. It lifts us up with each other.
Can a poet say this? It’s where we abide in time. It’s my wake up to you. It’s where we meet in verse, and you hear me. It’s our meaning with each other. God rest his soul. I’ve done all I can to reach the heart of poetry. I smell the four winds, and I do hope that danger’s not real. Know how it feels to have said too much from the party line where the authorities don’t let you, not even in poetry. So long today. I hope that’s not all she wrote. A case that does not take square time became an artist. She finally took the picture that brought it all to bear. Can you identify with the wife?
Take the questionnaire. I have problems existing the way you want Council Bluffs. An opera, just what the world needs right now, our post-traumatic show, and I can’t do anything to stop you. You’re the stupid muse.
Who’s to listen to? I’m talkin’ storybook Earth. Are you wrapped around the axle with it? My God it’s got me by the balls. I’m in Nithish’s pan. Other than that I’m free. You would not stage this.
I’m too honest for broad noon, and I’ve got some big thoughts Earth don’t wanna look at, I mean in your society room. Have you ever seen an Earth poet? You’re supposed to. That’s what we’re all made of. We’re speakin’ to all mankind. Earth today, we get mad at the word man, but it farms poetry, you know?
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, I’m in a limousine, but let me get more Tennyson on yah and Marilyn Monroe. You think poetry’s got to have capital letters and sing about verses and stuff. Emily Dickinson would agree poetry comes from the inner voice. Slipped into you a mind swell the beautiful rose of poetry, even if it’s not a football field of the huddle of verses that high sound poetry to you. I give you an inner lunch.
Okay we’ve brightened our books today. I give you an inner sound, tryin’ to find your head. It’s all Madagascar. Have I opened a movie on the showroom’s floor? Train’s coimin’. It’s all about them dice watch your hedge podge in where you put your blinders on. Cute animals, eh? And everybody’s longing to be free.
Be not normal men and women, but reach above our kind and show how it’s done, ain’t that the anthem? Movie after movie of the greatest stories on Earth get by our living room with this. Would you believe they keep you in line, even in your underwear? Ask the surveillance movie Drop from start to ticket or Seven Veils, and I’m sorry I’m giving them credit, but I can’t watch every movie in time that littles us, I mean like right now as we’re havin’ lunch.
So many lies are told to manipulate your mind and bring all the bad country to bad men so demon they shine with the impossibilities of human nature taken to that degree. They’re demon bad. My mother sucked me when I was three, and my step-mother terrorized my mind, and I had to hide from her in the woods until my father got home. Teacher after teacher put me in the corner, the kind that hate little boys all over the globe for bein’ who they are, and they had a score to settle with men. Give a world this schoolin’, and let’s see how she acts. You can’t trust nobody.
Now I’ve got a little boy in the lurch taken from me and reamed, who grew up with me since he was five, but I was there from birth his daddy. It makes you all nervous inside that I’m speaking about him in this poem. Exactly. Can I show you the hurtin’ in the machine? You think it’s child abuse or a host of other ills, men bad to women, or a sudden and frank genocide, or tumultuous war. It’s our wrong seeing that causes harm, how we bake bread willfully and ignorantly with the guardians of the universe resistant to change.
I love my little boy, and that’s right and proper, but I’m a White man and he’s a Tamil boy in a red flag zone. Surely his parents must be right in beating him, slapping him across the face, not letting him go out of their sight or surveillance system or visit friends so he will not contact me. Do you know what this does to a child? He doesn’t write poetry. Now buy him anything he wants and wine and dine him. Surely he’ll stay on our side.
What’s the beef you reckon? I made better miles with him, and he preferred me to them. It’s all in the menagerie. Parents got rights over their children’s lives. Just ask Child Welfare. The mother gave them a bribe and the police and paid my lawyer more than I was paying him. This is India and this stinks, but who gives a damn?
Is anybody listenin’ to this poem? I mean he’s got to go with us, how you make a child today serious to produce that child the staple of the machine. Now let’s give ‘im bright airs and promise him the moon when he’s older if he complies now. Study hard kid. Your worth is in those grades, and your future depends on them, and we will ignore your dyslexia by ignoring it, you lazy little bastard. We’re smart can’t you see?
Now this has been shut off, squeezed out of him in a parental vice par none. You like that? That’s okay with you? Who the hell are you anyway, ordinary people? I heard you. The Indian consulate the Indian dear, kick ‘em to give this boy what he needs. For fruit to work tell ‘em read this boy.
Eating orchids, there we are, and sittin’ on moonbeams, I am a conservative population. Ride ‘em out this-a-way: practice silence; practice not letting them get the best of you; practice understanding, and of course you’re conservative. The world is strong, ain’t it? Rise up and be counted when your vote’s to be counted, and do a lot of that. Don’t argue with trees. Don’t just use your own bull. See the larger picture in everybody.
Now you want social change? Well let’s just take a baseball bat and conservative them to death. Okay how not to change the world. Shove it up their ass. Wave your flag all over the place. Slap them for it. Tease them and tease them and tease them. Be stupid. Don’t have patience with anybody. Call yourself a woke person and them not. Take their children and educate them your opinion. Announce it on the news everybody must adopt policy.
Are you runnin’ for reelection? Don’t put people down. Let your human rights win by so much suffering seen tellin’ the stories that change the times. You like to whip kids? Double down on that explainin’ what it means to be whipped by the confusion that child felt whipped too his father was beating him, his mother too. Don’t show them Nazis show them children in their underwear.
And what was the issue that broke a nation? It wasn’t readin’ story time to kids in drag row, but let’s offend a nation so we can be seen. What was the hot tiger? We do away with gender roles now, understanding the underpinnings of society just crisscross and change down people’s throats. We are divided in sexes you and me, and that’s the pumpkin we wear. Less value on them pumpkins. We need to change society so we can be men and women too.
Who understands me? Get rid of that pumpkin. We stand at the threshold of evolution I am a man I am a woman in one machine, and my God that takes a long time. I mean we can loosen up now the sex roles. You know the story about it? I mean even Nazis will identify with it. Can you get at that spirit in the machine? It’s town hall. Now let’s double down on them sex roles educatin’ a public kindly.
What’s next on our flag? We need to kill people when they offend us. I been waitin’ a long time, and I got ‘im yesterday, the son of a bitch. I think we all do it, wearin’ some fantasy get even. Look at Trump. Oh shit I broke my own rules.
I’m not in the play yard. I’m where we hold meaning for each other. It’s a national pastime bein’ offended, Annie get your gun. We break together on this, break apart in two. It’s the standard wear. It’s the plays of the crowd.
Where is our anthem now? Oh say can you see [sing line] a people better on Earth than the average kind, the real givers of society, whose dynamics brighten Earth’s future? I’m not callin’ names. I’m asking you to be bigger people on the Earth, and yeah I’ll join hands too. You got that right. Now sing along: my country tis of thee [sing line] I’m a better person. I get bigger at bein’ human, truly free, sincerely free.
The discipline is there in the conservative run of the road. It’s not easy to reach them, but they’re great adapters when they’re on strike, when they’ve had enough of whatever regime they listen to. Let me tell yah somethin’. It’s on and at the gates history repeats itself, and a dictator, he’s gonna show who he is. It didn’t happen. We felt sorry for him. Five times I put air in my eyes. She’s so dirty, I mean in armpits.
What in the hell did I do with my knife? He will get called on his bluff. Don’t worry about it. Did that boy call? This is not normal. This is like on steroids flutter a nation away. Who just heard that? The whole Democratic party. When conservatives do we’re in business, tap, tap, tap, tap, and the role of his dictator will be taken away. I don’t think so. How did you get in my poem Gone With the Wind? Conservative, wow like I put you down for science when the roles are clear.
Meet me halfway will yah? You’re like makin' boxes I know that one. We need to give this guy some seabiscuits. Anyway I’m in an armchair just rollin’ out the dice. I can’t promise you my opinion. Take my hand and just spit on yours. It’s the most country in the world that changes the world with policy. Spit it on the hand of the world. You did it. He turned the world astray for a second, fighting the questionnaire. Who me? A conservative finally woke up.
They followed the lantern, the orchid. I didn’t tell yah the story. Let’s look at rich people shall we? And we caught them unawares. I mean they been the tax in the machine. There’s so many issues it’s a report. They’re just doin’ us shoppin’. They’re the head scapegoat, a rat. Oh shit, put likes all green, as if they climbed out of that hole and did it. Did you help society my dear? I mean be on steroids shootin’ money makin’ to the stars. Get out from under them, that’s our movie.
Change politicians at reelection. Are you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin? You mean no candidates can be rich people? I don’t know how you grab it by society, but just get the rich out of office and any clothes they wear, and campaign funds are not accepted from anybody on a campaign to keep the rich out of them pies. Learning off the wall, campaign funds have destroyed our democracy you and me. Up and up towards the explosion, we give each candidate a certain amount and that’s it.
And that’s it. We’re just talkin. I’m just localizin’ Nithish in my poem, everything he asked for so society don’t cheat ‘im of a childhood he deserves. I signal the end of makin’ it for business. Make society good for our children see, and can we have a brand new world? You have something the willpower heal. We need more of that. Well it’s the first time. We’ve been runnin’ this a long time. Social change, let’s get it busy. Dammit a sinking fuel mankind, conduct taxi no I didn’t talk to ‘im at all. Shooting the pile of the pee, well I just come along try to help yourself stop this drillin’ machine.
Come on, the last magnet. It’s easy. It’s not easy. We’re damned to see. Mowin’ the sand, and it’s got to be dirty. We’re human. We followed the water magnet. Molten lava. And of course candidate. Go back and forth and meditate, I couldn’t think of anything else. That’s the wrong station. You’re not on top of Old Smokey. At the gates makin’ better children makin’ better society. Damn, let’s take society by the horns will yah? That’s the shotgun. You got your air paws. You don’t forget that. Luxurious huh? There we are an internet used for social change. Boxes they’re not always squeeze you tight. Cash in delivery. Now social change. Now do what I do. Jump and sort of fly into midair. [sing this and above line] Fear is the meanest mind killer. Open a can of whip ass. Hey, there you go. It’s the wrong time to be mean and insulting and rude. We’re at the movie, and the roles are clear.
Up bring everything. Where’s my boy? A resident’s assembly bringing towards that you. Who lived off the grid? What exactly did you mean by business? They think it’s me the wrong piston, this wagon: I can’t find my dime in society. This sucks and I want out of it. We’re on you like stink on shit— the great big arms of society. We don’t let you get there to utopia. We damage everything.
Now let’s go to the bubble Auroville, an experimental town city. Great Scott! society couldn’t leave it alone, molested it like a little child, and it got taken over by the Indian government way back when but comin’ out of the woodwork now, just as pretty as you please. Now they’re stuck with nothin’ to do about it. A patriotic Indian government has taken over, and they’re throwin’ out non-Indians who disagree, makin’ the international city Indian.
Spirituality’s the powder keg. They don’t do it right they say. They quote the Mother and Sri Aurobindo all day without understandin’ what they’re talkin’ about, without knowin’ those words, with the fervor of a religious persons who bring Auroville to its knees surrenderin’ to the Mother said. This is the apex of the new city. It’s lost its charter there. I’m a mechanic, and I’ve got some cars to work on, the Auroville sedan and the world school bus. I want to show you the method of the spirituality. I have some things to say. Annie get your gun. We might stay together, anyone wantin’ a new society, anyone wantin’ to change the world. Annie’s gonna shoot us all if she could. She don’t let social change, and she’s government big.
I begin here my revolt, not with gunpowder or any type of violence, not with protest signs and blockin’ streets. I give you the ideas that will change the world. Funny huh? it’s just little ole me. I want my boy to come home. That’s this can you hear me? That’s the child I’m pullin’ out all the stops for, I’m riskin’ my life for, to rescue.
A black man did it, killed all these people in control of mankind, without takin’ a single life, without firin’ a single shot. He got rid of their ideas that control us. He blew up the machine with the ideas that make the world. Keep him open answering questions.
There are horrors, huh, right now? [vision of a ghoul-like creature popping up from behind some trashcans that I kicked, as if it’d been hiding there] The tremblin’ must be rewound by it. You’re almost taken. There is no revolution anymore. It’s found you. This is hotdog nigger stats, your consumer prices index. Am I racial string theory my dear? Interracial. We are all following the machine, reacting to its wares and memes. Nigger got you didn’t it? You all jump in the same hoop, even if you use that word to call people names.
We are a standardized machine, no glory holes. We take our partner to legalized sex and punish those who don’t. Can I get at that spirit of the machine? I’m not sayin’ sex traffic kids. You’re all in a bottle you know, even the one who breaks all the rules. You’ve been put to the test, livin’ off the grid like you do. You define yourself by society. Just look at the books you read. They’re society bound, even Henry David Thoreau or that guru master you read. You’re reading other people of what you make work in life.
Can we get off the stairs? Can you table God? My God he’s big. Can I rewrite you a blindin’ every minute to the creation made today as we speak, nothing standardized nothing made all this past that led up to now? It’s a fairy rose, a shapin’ flux that’s puts together our minutes seemingly aligned with the past. A great big school of thought this that brings the universe to bear. I mean the universe is jumpin’ out at yah right now, created this minute don’t you see?
A settled creation no. Created now of world maker’s art. You have these pistons it fits into, and you grease your days and nights with your own content. You are a happening in the Void, a mechanism for a movie graveling existence into nothingness so that we can be. Do you have your hat on?
When science reaches here it will see God guiding stars from above and gathering forms in place, but it is fairy rose, the whole damn show. In this existence is real. Its rises God, climbs out of the Void by lighting it, and we make up its lives. See you soon at the reunion of stars. We do not come from the Void. We are the soul in the machine.
Now do you see miracle? The soul rises in the machine. Are you startled? You should be. That’s the bulwark of creation right in your hands. Now take a child and whip him again. You know you’re risin’ stakes. You don’t see the significance Earth? It has a wonder-weft in it. To your mom Nithish. We have the autograph books for Being, big beautiful Being.
That’s why wood’s together, those two grapplin’ with existence proper, the boy that makes you uneasy, the man that makes you question things, they find inner muscle. I’ll have X call you back. You know he’s waiting. Now for some childhood trauma. I met the Void in its dirty underwear. Outside of the world I disappeared from Heaven in a toddler’s nightmare. Buried alive, I had existence piled on top of me. I rose things that jumped out and rescued me. Fell down in the Void a toddler with inner journey secrets. All our arms point down be careful. Hell has a wide mouth. Light itself got me out. Can I call your name? Can I name the world? Caught in those wheels myself existence rose, right in the middle of the sun.
Now I’ve seen where holocaust comes from, saw the monsters of the deep and the origin of all evil. I felt it there. Trade me for secrets, and I will light what can’t be seen. Come down to earth with me, and let’s get out of this hole leading little lives of quiet desperation not knowin’ where we’re goin’ or a get there to get there too, just bein’ fishes in a plastic bottled sea in the pattern of the days. Even if you’re rich or the president of something, we’re in the Void. We are almost buried in the machine.
What do we do with these minutes? We standardize them, make them in line, and we do this by society’s test in the basics of us, no matter where we live. I’ve chased you there, all the great thinkers escapin’ the machine. I don’t think you can be free in it. Here is the test now in a sudden poem. My God that works. I can do it. Fine, I’m in my underwear.
Can I show you the Holocaust again in time, the cruelty of one towards the other, the diabolical meanness? Will you change that way and be kind to people or even good, or will you hate the abusers and turn off the TV? Will you see this in your own house with your own kids, forcing them into labor camps of school, making them obey you or else, giving them your name not theirs, making them fill society’s roles and cutting off their souls? It’s a holocaust of denial. We make standard kids in a standard room, and we can’t get over it don’t work. Even if our kids cure cancer, they haven’t made humanity bigger than itself, they haven’t evolved us further than ourselves, they haven’t seized the wheels of time and discovered us.
You live in a box you see, a prison house of weft. I’m tryin’ to find a key to outside where the inner splendors lay, but you’ll just shoot me if I’m wrong, not in my theory in my moral with boys. Look at you. You will deny the inside in the moments of this poem because I can’t talk about it I’m not worthy? We all live in the yellow submarine. [sing line] Coffee sir, I think we’re on the brink of change.
I’m off right now. These are world fireworks of every cloud in the sky. I’m a loud chitty bang bang. I arrest you and put you to sleep. I call your name at night. I’m bigger than sin. I’m your guacamole. I take you to the temple at night. I really get into your stuff, and I can mislead you too. I can really mislead you. I play with your consciousness like it’s on fire, and I wrap it around the gods and the name you call home. I’m puddin’ in a bucket. I show you things unseen about yourself. I fry there. I’ve got a lot of gas to get you to the supermarket and back. I can change your life if you let me. I can show you which way to go and where you must not go. I’m a conscious mechanism in dream and all vision states. I’m your inner life where it touches ground when you’re alone to yourself. No dammit I'm not Donny. Jeez, representative think, will yah?
I’m great big and I’m mean. I mean when you first open me, for a lot of people. I change the world into its starlight, and I’m all piss and vinegar in them hellholes. Come open me I’m a gift of inner seeing, the lost art of humanity. Wanna watch it grow? Right before your eyes in this poem. This is what you’re off the grid for, to get in touch with your inner dynamics, to reopen miracle and you.
You’ve got to consciousness to get there and study there like you’re in school, where to travel in dream when you wake up in them, how to use the paralyzed trance to leave your body and your room and see if we share a field of consciousness, how to bake there in any inner keeping the questions of existence, of who you are and what unfolds time.
Off the grid do you hear me? No, you can do this in a valet parking lot, right in the middle of society. You don’t have to wear shoes. You can just get goin’ anywhere you find yourself stuck on Earth. You don’t have to have any titles to do this, no special education. You can just be you opening the doors of the inner consciousness and discovering what’s in there don’t you see?
Samadhi will come along eventually, and you will abide there fishin’, even in the surrender mode. We have paths to cross. We’ve got to get to know time. We have to see who we are. This is in the middle of the road. That's the dream maker. It gets you out of boxes, and it’s available to every man, woman, and child, even in the animal kingdom. I’m in; how did you get down there?
You study dream. You look for the doorways in there, the spiral force that takes you, the swing, and the fall down into the well of soul. There is enlightenment too that you can slip into for a dream wear. There’s overhead experience. You focus on the inside like it’s your business. Soon you will see the future in dream, where you dream every night some part of tomorrow. It’s in symbols weird. It will blow your mind. You will explore consciousness then so fortified. I don’t believe in magic. You will begin to. Just open the inner doors with discernment and kindness and a watch out about yourself, and see the world change.
You don’t jump in boxes. You call out my name and send money to this number. Now you know how a fraud sounds, as I notice your red tongue. Do you wanna be a teacher? You don’t need a guide. Go get your calendar. I’m going to build a new house. That takes time. Inner red riding book, that’s your splashdown. How to fly to inner report the eggs that it needs? Symbol after symbol you will encounter. It’s the language of the Spirit. I never thought about needing one. We haven’t gotten to the interpretation of dreams yet, but in our little dream company we cracked the code. Start with Episode 1. It’s a podcast silly, but it’s free.
I don’t have a guidebook to give you. I just have me when you get down to dream. I have evidence it’s out there, the rediscovery of mankind, the great big rediscovery of all our good books on survival, how we get along, and where we change for one another, share that field inside. I’m bigger than my room. You just watch. The table where we’re all planted the beginning of the inner revolution. Listen to this poem there. It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature, and it’s right here we beat AI, with our own inner television. I see. I need a new pair of shoes. And that’s great.
Earth meaning on a whole, the meeting of two red lines, you keep your outer life goin’. Don’t lose your job, and if you take your kids out of school, make sure they can function in society. Don’t give them your life. Let them find theirs. Outer life tuned, you’re now an ensemble of the inner too. You don’t get lost there. You don’t even make it your life’s work. It’s your education, how to handle the outer life and where to go with it, ultimately how to change the world.
You don’t get led astray by your name among men. Can I exemplify you? You let your art do that. It will fly before humanity the flag you’re supposed to, the take place of you art. These will come from inner wares, the more inner, the more valuable. You’re not doin’ this to preach. You wanna find yourself inside to get into that outside the proper material.
You’re balancin’ life the inner wares too. You don’t cut one short. The inner and the outer play along and begin to dovetail. You can do both at the same time. That’s advancement. That’s where it starts, you outgrow yourself, you’re becoming the bigger you are, and it’s diamonds, but it’s not wear around your neck. You meet the breeze humbly and sweetly, without acting. Your self-honesty has reached sincerity. Come over here. You’re in the drawing room of God, and great shoulder notions ride your room. This is the attack plan of a real world revolution. Sweet, ain’t it? Sweet and kind. This is the attack plan of an inner revolution, and all you have to do is open your eyes to inner beginnings. You got that right?
I’m gonna explore and investigate consciousness. Bottled up inside you your destination. See who it is an overhead experience. Now you know you’re there because you’ve reached this nameless origin, the Person that you are, the origin of all your lives, somewhere up there in the sun, greatly over your head. You can see everything. It’s too big for you to remember when you return to your little self. My God this is big, and there’s no mistakin’ time. You’ve been outside of it. You’ve been bigger than the moon, the tall country of the gods. I’m ashamed of this? You don’t even know it’s there. You can’t count the sun.
Now murder me for it, or get your persecution gun, like you’re doin’ now in Auroville the city of dawn. I’m an outcast there, not now about little boys, where we begun. I’ve made people mad by seeing things the community don’t. I’ve engaged people who wear special status in spirituality or somethin’. They glide in my room and just spit there. Most won’t respond to me, and I’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest I believe.
These are little people. What do you do with them? You come out of your holes and shine. You don’t hide yourself no more. My boy’s at stake I’ve got to do this. He needs my help. Will I be here tomorrow? I don’t know. I’ve got people on my case. I can disappear anytime. So I show you the sun and where creation comes from. I give it to you all free and without regard to my safety. Great you say, big deal, are you trying to impress us?
It’s the wrong time for this. Everybody’s show and tell. I am just one in a number oh isn’t that interesting? But here in Topeka the flies are a buzzin’. [sing this and above line, a song by Loretta Lynn] I’m in danger here. What’s a body to do? Why open more poetry of course, high priority encounters about the transfer of the One. Then you draw the line he needs rescued. I want my boy back.
Spoken word poetry, till I get it, I leave it alone. Wow, it’s left alone. In case of good poetry break this glass. I just sit here and discover, letting the word explain itself in the giving of lines and in the hurtin’ of the world.
If I show you the pain will you stop it? Will you even know it’s there where you feel your pain? Oh no another Holocaust movie all about bein’ numb. I can’t give you this star-glow to ride the world on its tongue feelin’ people. I’m not a robot I’m free, but the price of my freedom is your pain, your wellbeing I feel like my own.
It’s shoots me all the time, or it gives me stars. I’m there with you in the delivery room of another bucket of world today, huh?
I see through all these sleeves of world maker’s art, a world upon world in the moments with mine, a conglomerate of worlds of this group of people and that, of this person alone, of all the mini worlds that make up this world that we call Earth. Can you see that simultaneously with your own? I taste you there. I know you’re there.
How do I communicate this to you so you feel it too like you have your children’s hands in your own, like your best friend’s smile, like your mother’s love? I don’t die there, but I question God all the time and Sri Aurobindo.
These are terrible times, and they get ready for tomorrow terrible too, with a past just as terrible starin’ us in the face. Let the good times roll, and my God they do. How sweet life can be in its gathered moments, how manageable, but why does it always add up to this: life is not a bundle of joy; life gets us in corners and does bad things to us. Can you understand that?
Why does the world go on like nothin’s happenin’, like it’s free and easy and clean, so standardized? They scream on the news bad news to an audience of normal, of tie your shoe, of everything’s alright here, ain’t it? Not in every bubble. So much quiet desperation it has been said.
Do you know the rovin’ hellhole? Somewhere on Earth at any given time they’re eating each other alive. It’s the worst place on the planet for a moment. Hell swallows them whole, unbelievable cruelty, and nothin’ to redeem them. Goddamn that stinks.
Alight I’m blessed. I live in a little pocket of warmth and forgiveness. I have opened the doors to humanity in the stadium of my room. I ride there all day figurin’ you out. I take great thoughts to the skies, but I must remember I’m a low man on the totem pole in your eyes. I do nothin’ here that grants you my room, that shows what I’m doin’ larger than life.
A poet of world standing I am not. I’m a poet among many thousands in the availability of today, and no poetry comes along and wallops your head or smites your heart from my pen. I just spit in the breeze. That’s the trash dumpster, and here let me give it another poem. I put my dogs to sleep, and I wish you goodnight.
All united and happy they think. Come here Luna. Get your head… [vision of Luna Rottweiler putting her head in a hole in the ground] One doggy at a time. Oh fuck I’m on Candid Camera. He’s just gonna go for it. Well then the surprises and bad secrets, heart is ruined on the same thing: waging war on the Fourth of July. What’s the significance of your dog growing? Into a likeness of you. What I didn’t have: put every slept of it complete. My God, they should be spilled.
What is it this time? Dr. Milk Powder— I haven’t called you; I’ve had enough, is that the plan? You know he’s lost his boy. They’re travel uneasiness way to stutter. Don’t you see? Alongside with it it’s real. You know his boy’s called not in awhile. Suffer this, and it just last of people’s hittin’.
Do you like people? Is this fruit juice? Why is it we always hate somebody, run there all the time? You really enjoy this life don’t you? It seems all fair winds. Need to pull her pregnant with the grenade. It will get you every time. Just look around the world. Just look at your neighbor.
Do you know how we get along? Do you know how we get through this? We don’t be monsters to each other. We don’t be mean. We try to be kind and giving in our painful moments. This is overcoming the world and getting better at yourself. It’s a love angle, and we need more love. That house definitely, where you put your hat off, where you sit around. Love those people, the people you’re life-in’ with. You don’t know how much this counts.
It’s all an effort I know. We have to overcome ourselves to do it sometimes, but we have to give this baseball to all the standin’s in the world, so we can have a world that works. Is that so hard to believe?
You know the world is full of holes. Even the divine is negligent and will crush you to make the world, will just stand by and watch. These are not pleasant times, but we have to endure them, tryin’ to find joy inside, tryin’ to give our children a good time.
What else is there? Spirituality’s a pole we lean on. There are surprises in consciousness if we let them. There’s a world maker’s art you can see. These are deep down inside, past the underwear, past all that gets in the way. There is strong inside, even after you’re shattered.
This world’s a dream maker’s art, so much more than show, but this is a common dream we are having that the significance of dream shows. We’re living out a representation telling a story, and all our lives add to that One involved, and all our lives keep going. We’re where time loops around itself a great big mechanism of being that has definite boundaries that we can cross and get out of here after the whole has been complete. We’re goin’ somewhere together, and yes some escape before time, but they’ll end up on another world soon.
This great big ship has a destination you know, something worth time, something bigger than ourselves and is ourselves at the same time. I’ve gone out of the universe you see and been myself on high.
Stupid me, I describe experience like you’ll believe it, but you can kill me and it’ll still be there. It can’t be erased from time. I’m a nobody because of it, liftin’ up my room for you to see. It’s got crosses on it and monkey bars, because I’m just like you, but I’ve been given a breath of supernal air, and I need to tell you about it. It’s affected my vision. I see the world.
I’m just like everybody, but I don’t live like you inside. I live with you and inner vision. I get rocked by joys that fill my noon the outside world doesn’t bring me. I feel oceans of sadness I’m not in the world about. I feel existence pain, and when I walk outside, drive my bike through the town, the countryside, it’s a wonder-weft of miracle, and I feel every person I come across. I see the One inside, and all the many representations surround me. I can’t get over it.
Now I’m here with another poem. Let it ride the day if you read it, because it puts us together if you escape, because it’s here we learn to live again after your world has been taken away. Can you see me now? Can you hear?
Harm's End 