Look at the Outcast

Adolf Hitler 1933

Infant Orgasm,
Infant Orgasm You See

(Note: from July 2016 to December 2016, I posted seer poems on Facebook written specifically for our educational page Harm’s End. I know FB was aware of the posting at the time, because some poems were boosted and had to go through Facebook’s review process, with one being rejected, one about the prophet Mohammad, although FB did not take it down or flag it in any way. On August 4, 2020, I copied all the poems, along with their images, to my computer, and a day later a poem from 2016 was taken down for violating their community standards, showing me my activity was being closely monitored by FB. I then deleted any image I thought FB might object to, unaware that an image of Hitler is now flagged by FB as a matter of course. That it is now but wasn’t in 2016 reflects a growing trend of censorship on the net. It won’t be long before anything that seriously questions the generally accepted reality construct or tires to introduce things that construct isn’t seeing and doesn’t want to will be banned from the major social media platforms and taken as far as possible out of the public eye. In other words, the net will become like TV.

This poem along with this image was posted on FB September 10, 2016. It was flagged August 15, 2020, but not taken down, citing it violated their community standards, and I edited it the following day, adding material in brackets within the poem that explain the poetry, to make it clear I wasn’t violating their community standards. Within 10 minutes after editing it, our page Harm’s End was unpublished. Although this poem fits into a poetic conversation on my FB feed and is out of context to post here by itself, I’m posting it here to protest the censorship of art and poetry on Facebook and on the net in general, in this case, poetry whose purpose it is to heal, not harm, however controversial it may be.)

Executive order.
Anyway she just surprised me.
Hitler, the 1st letters of incest,
rape.
It started World War II.
Half the money
the gate come open.
What come out?
I know it,
the material,
the material of war,
the material of concrete war.

Incest gun,
check it out.
That’s not a gift.
It’s an orgasm
your mom gives ya,
or your dad,
an adult in the family.
The house owner
outside of somethin’.
It’s American.
We know it’s German.
It’s also England,
all countries,
just a story on it
broken.
You wouldn’t hit everybaby,
enough to organize
the required material.
Is that war?
You said it baby.

It’s German
under the feet.
That means it’s right there:
kill ‘em,
thousands gas.
Bring them on the table
but be careful.
Daddy was good wasn’t he
or mommy special?
We do this in an orderly fashion.
Got that right.
Just line ‘em up
and shoot ‘em,
terrible.
I’m gonna
keep comin’.
What’s this?
An orderly compound,
an orderly room.
Procedure, procedure?
And we built the gas chambers,
and we built
orgasm.

Give that kid
trouble,
not between his legs,
not
now,
not now.
Look out the window.
Go to the door.
It needs an umbrella:
the night of the generals.
They have a very detailed IQ.

THEY.
People are bad.
Not everybody.
He doesn’t like,
he has a very knowledgeable
presence with Jews.
Art school,
they wouldn’t let ‘im in.
Art college,
they wouldn’t let him in now.
Okay make them unworthy,
lump them with all the undesirables,
society’s degenerates,
but blame them for everything.
They are the masterminds
of all that’s wrong with the world,
of all that’s wrong with our country.

[understand the poetry: those are Hitler’s views, not the poet’s.]

Fell down –
see a war,
a war,
a world war:
give to me
my mountain.

You have to understand
orgasm.
It changes war.
It’s a blitzkrieg
of physical pleasure
on an I unformed.
One second.
There’s an I.
Is there
more like the animal I.
Is that me?
That building centerfold
the earth
is removed from the scene.
I’m a baked chump,
burn in a holocaust of pleasure.

Understand
repeated action,
all this mess over time.
It has a tendency
to rob you of pleasure,
organize your role
an antenna
to try and get things in order,
down
if you know what I mean,
not up in the sky.
Look at
the nice uniforms,
the insignia,
the roll of tanks.

You’ve been robbed you see,
and that damage,
and you in ego formation,
and God did it,
your parent.
Any questions Paramount?
That’s it.

(There is, it should be understood, a personal interpretation to this poem throughout, since, in truly inspired art, in seer poetry especially, it’s at bottom, however remotely, also about the artist. In this light, the verse about Hitler being rejected from art college and subsequently scapegoating all Jews because of that can also be interpreted to be about the refusal of my entire society, Jews, non-Jews, everybody, to let me into the art of the day, but the personal interpretation isn’t tit for tat with the poem, as it just lights upon it here and there. If you want to know how the personal interpretation applies to the main subject of the poem, infant orgasm, read this comment I posted on Medium before my Medium account is also suspended, because I color outside the lines.

If you want to know the occult truth behind Hitler, read the book The Light That Shone Into the Dark Abyss by Maggi Lidchi-Grassi, 1994, Sri Aurobindo Ashram Press (not available to read online). Facebook, which almost a third of the world’s population uses, has such an unwarranted and inequitable influence over the knowledge that we pass around, and it (like not only the other online mega-businesses, but also the major news outlets and the great majority of the entertainment industry I might add) is in its core beliefs reductionist materialist, however many employees it has that doesn’t hold those beliefs. If that’s not enough, it’s in it for profit, and if Facebook encounters material that makes people feel uncomfortable, a loss of profit steps in and makes the decision, and even if it doesn’t violate its policies, FB will simply ban it. Now, the truth of us, the good, the bad, and the ugly, it might hurt to hear it, you know?

Is the human matter finished? I mean, is there anything more to discover about us other than the fundamental beliefs that we’ve built human society upon, and those are that we are individual human islands expendable to the sea of humanity and inconsequential compared to it, islands possessing an absolute freewill and a consciousness that doesn’t extend beyond the island that we each are, and, in the intrinsic ground of who we are, we are nothing more than that island? Here we are at the cutting edge of humanity. This is the denied knowledge trying to gain entry: there is more to discover about us, and we are more than that.

I’ll end with an analogy to put the subject matter of this poem into a context that will make what I’m attempting here more apparent:

“This thing no one ever talks about before, and when we are the first ones to talk about it, there are a lot of people that think this thing shouldn’t be touched, this thing is you know, sacred, and the people that think you are going too far, and all of these people are going to undermine our movement, for sure.” Quote from a Thai protester in Bangkok speaking to a BBC reporting about protesters questioning the power of the Thai monarchy. Source: BBC video “Thai protests: Thousands join rally in Bangkok”, 17 Aug 2020.)

 

The Pupil and His Divine, a Harmony in Five Measures – 5

Sri Aurobindo and me

Flexibility’s Good Practice

[Although formatted to fit your screen, the poem was originally written in 2014. It’s in the form of a dialogue with multiple speakers: the poet, his divine, various people in the audience, including children, and even a hostile being. Paying attention to punctuation and listening to the poem read, the voices dramatized, play key roles in interpreting it.]

I see my result in the image of tomorrow,
sacrifices for these guys,
sacrifices for children made.
I see a little ahead of us now.
Oh my God,
an image I see,
the sound and the fury of a group called
a rigid belief system.
They deny my answer.
It gains ground instead.

Be useful with my hair.
That’s why I got an office.
Most of the new modem here is for this:
yoga transitions wrong.
It doesn’t recognize itself when the change occurs.
Yoga’s a half light,
an image to see.
It’s necessary.
Yoga at least fields the answer.
Union becomes possible.

A new light on yoga,
a new inspiration on yoga:
flexibility.
Can you come back in about fifteen minutes?
They ask my choice.
Your native place, your country?
American dream.
I hope for your sake as well
it lasts the dream.
Now, the politics has religion.
Doves, a page for arms spending.
It’s a powerful dove now.
I hold you open to everyone.
You don’t know the religion of the Spirit
Mr. Fundamentalist.

American box office,
you’ll allow it
a ten minute jury.
It’s open.
You want a letter hold it down.
Art has business
in imaging ideas.
A new idea
is what we’re looking for.

We’ve got an opening in pictures.
I superstorm that’s fine.
While we’re ahead,
let’s crack divinity’s TV.
It is an image in a notebook
that you write while you’re asleep.
It has what you need.

I’m awareness of God.
You can’t buy that in a bookstore,
nor paint it on a friend.
It’s a personal journey.
I’ll be going down
to the bare minimum.
From there I hope to image this story.
Tagging the program
in the front of my house.

Daddy?
What sweetheart?
Put your finger on us.
Ah ha, that touched my hand.
We’re neighbors you see.
Thought will
go public.

If I understand your meaning right
poetry thinker,
we are a collective body.
That’s our building process
yes.
We can image out thought a new reality.
We could do that
instead of who we hate.

Coconut in my big ouch here,
the rumors of war hate fashioned.
We create its dream,
annihilation.
These are primitive seekers,
but we must understand them.
They need to know they’re safe.
Their belief system is their protection
against immensity.

We hear them regard.
We guard our forefather’s knowledge.
We hope to gain by its creed what our forefathers lost,
the right way to live.
We are a ship at anchor in an empty port.
We image reality
by what we see.
There has no greater value
a living scene.
It is solid fact not symbol wrought,
and God in his heaven sits the same.

We image a pupil
who doesn’t listen.
I kinda knew that in the morning.
I stopped vision.
It was drowned by the world.
Hey man what happened?
If you don’t finish it tomorrow…
I put a poem where God lived in me.
The solid confines of matter’s image
can so easily
hide the Unseen from view.

Is there a land bridge here?
I’m happy to see one,
it’s my son,
my little girl.
If I could put their ship in the water on just the right course,
they’ll put together this image
and pilgrim our voyage.
It’s a hope for tomorrow for a future today.
These are my children.
I give them right of way.
I think we image our house here.
It’s got healing window
all our fans said.
I’m okay.
Don’t worry about me.
Just do your homework:
know what to believe.

I’m not surprised.
Here was fine.
We leave our souls numbered on.
This was a glad space in a bright heart,
charity’s donation.
Down there,
infinity held sway.

He organized his room.
What we put?
What we do?
He made soldiers on stacks of bibles
and passed them out to the world.
He cleaned the inside of things,
rejecting old business.
He heard his Stranger call
and wrote it down.
He aloned to himself,
coming into contact with his own world.
His speech betrayed not the things he saw.
He flashed a light of kindness in his arm’s reach.
It was a banquet now.

What did you catch one of those twenty-four hour things?
This was no question posed by the night.
You gathered a liver to your hero.
If it lasts,
it survives.
Your guarantee for the future.
Can we come in from the cold now?
Okay UK say okay.

His private door gave lesson.
This was no ordinary show.
Seventh Avenue,
they looked in on him,
but Sri Aurobindo figured the ticket
and granted this place:
you’re an overmental movement
you understand;
take it easy,
Supermind’s there
standing ground.
Higher than the moon
who put their soul?

He hoped in dream’s pocket.
It was a large measure.
His house they used him
and looked not within.
This was his point of friction with the world.
Constant assault the children were.
He had anger
that he could not hide.
We draw him before
that station-house settled.

Good work,
you have to play on it.
We opposite a six.
Is that good measure?
It’s the right issue today.
What I was tested’s the fact
(come daddy)
I can be a father,
whether or not it works.
What’s yoga?
You have to believe it works.
There,
I’ve said your damn lesson.
Now image reality,
a top of the head see.
Do you get my copycat?
Individually.

I’m not sitting next to wrong.
I’m sitting next to you.
Can we habitat this truth?
Man, this is our dwelling place.
It has to do with a song.
It only hits you,
you open your eyes.
The Spirit is alive in matter,
and the Spirit stays.
Matter is his habitat but not his standing ground.

Daddy, can I have a digital watch
that tells the time
eternally?
Here we pause for a word from our sponsor:
the world removes sickness
your body
will be an eternal image;
homeopathic made cure.

A substantiality review,
measure that in heartbeats.
May you grow bigger than yourself.

So many passengers,
they don’t want a heart strong.
It will have to be something that we do together.
Individuals prepare the field.
You’ll have a rough time sitting there
absorbed in your television set
three dimensional.
The hat’s
just a protection
from getting lost in the movie.
Crown chakra,
you gotta wear it.
Do I make myself clear or not?

Daddy?
Can I sleep in your bed tonight?
Okay.
Now do you believe me?
I will challenge you in the deepest part of your laugh.
Hello my associate
you don’t usually say.
Head bothering you?
I have said a window
opportunity set up.
You’re staring at the wall.
You’d have to see beyond it
to understand what I said.

Really?
It would mean
an integral yoga.
Even the masters
couldn’t gather these clothes.
They just never put ‘em on.
You’ll have to step out even,
emptiness said.
Catch my airplane winnebago?
The Spirit is free
in all this
stuff.

I had trouble with that one.
Fix your feet high.
That’s an asana everybody has trouble with.
Keep practicing.
Yoga will work.

Throw a leg over this movie:
moksha reborn
here in the world.
You’d have to catch the plane,
give it your understanding.
The body is carved by it in silence,
listening.
To be totally honest I walked to it
one box at a time.
It was the heart that provided the key.
Once it knew
it was on its way,
the change arrived.

Donny I,
listen to you.
So you don’t have to worry.
That was decent.
That was not about arguing.
Arguing,
it showed me something.
The mind, the heart, the body all integrated,
people solved.

Definitely another subject
(I don’t think so)
the soul is their point of order.
Fits right here.
We begin with an understanding
opening the top of the head
or the heart window
imaging soul.
They will solve each other
if we bring them together right.

I’d like to show you something.
We play music
one measure at a time.
This airs out the difficulty
integration brings.
I’m, I’m good,
unmolested.
This is a substantiality review.
Hear this music?
Boy hears it now.
The public awhile.
Execute this thing.
That’ll take it
off the ground.

We open our opera,
a whole like twenty-eight pages.
One crying.
What’s a matter sweetheart?
Daddy I don’t want to leave you.
We’ll have to have faith
the Mother said.
She’s the one holding it together,
our family arrangement.

I have these children.
Remove the cover.
What do you see?
You’re their daddy.
Touched it,
the front of it.
Funny,
that really appealed to me.
I lesson in longevity.
Where do you put your scorecard?
There’s really a house.
I want to print it out:
my children
are lessons in love.
You don’t want to mess with them.
I give you
clean house.

A story’s been told
infinity sings.
We nowhere near mirror
the calm flexibility that
we in our divinity will show,
as we stand transformed,
not just stuck on the rafters.

Where will this evolve?
It’s in our daily room,
where we spend our lives holding cares.
Is my rifle here?
What dense energy is that?
It’s what shoots answers,
will not let us see the way out.
Go ask people,
and they figure it out:
if we do get up there,
anything, anything at all,
I have to do it,
I’ve got to get my courage out.
I’m about the idea change.

A body without a beard,
without one iota of fashion together wrong,
if I’m rewriting I’m writing to version fad.
I’m shouting your opinion.
Think that rewrite’s bad?
Flexibility’s good practice.
We are so swayed by our opinions.
Well man,
your opinion,
no matter how sharpened,
might be more narrow than life.

Can you average that?
Bout time you come in.
It’s actually better
to let the truth unfold
instead of proclaiming it.
We evolve here.
You have my answer.
Now that’s actually what it is,
truth evolving.
You’re welcome.

I’m available
across the railroad tracks.
It’s where you see disease.
I’m not that far.
Look how close I am to you,
in your intimacy kitchen,
your bathing and sleeping with
your own concerns.
Where is the line crossed?
Stew there.
Now call for intimacy with me.

What makes you so mad?
I would ask for an associate’s degree.
How many times does justice hate?
Would it be that that hate’s carried over from someplace else,
a little road in you?
It’s not there whispers hate.
We’re not talking
out in the open –
subconscious.
You have ways to avoid that stuff.

What drew these lines?
Hear so many cross.
It’s not a perfect world for me anymore.
Doesn’t have to go.
Trying to tell a river.
We’d open
our eyes and see it.
Then what’s the story?
We can be clean.
I don’t think so.
It’s not that easy.
Oh come on,
top notch of this group,
who knows it?
But tell me,
did you name to the air conditioner five minutes,
just one time?

You make me worry.
Let’s guilt them and them.
Wow, you have society’s hold up here.
Cultural morality
do any justice?
By hidden cost:
we are not permitted to evolve.

Where does the dust settle?
I’m fighting your window,
and it doesn’t open.
Okay, this and with hate:
very shot behind.
Now touch those teeth together,
and we’ve spoken aloud.
I had to get my stuff out of the way
so you got yours.
Hey man this thing’s got director over me.
Could be a wonderful person.
You can change.
I’m tryin’ to get you off the ground.
It’s not better
if said person doesn’t come to see you again.
That touch blisters along.
Somebody
can help
like who would’ve thought it.
Come on, heart walk strong.
On your way too.

All from eyes
they’ll have knowledge back.
Give them muscle on clean,
what I give clean.
Lemmie get this straight:
wounding sword heals?
Over the end that’s burned.

Good morning,
in our little house
thoughtful matter.
Count how many times the Word gets used.
The average person is comin’ round.
That’s a New York
giving a better New York.
That’s your higher count.

I’ve given you right music,
the corrected story.
It leads up to American
(oh I got here),
the American dream.
Find that equipped
once we get electricity.
We’d save the energy
where our body’s the worst fade:
each other.

Simple:
we evolve.
Not in here
some rafter said.
Before we close the door
to bodily existence,
we would have made divine matter’s robe.
We would be together by the way.
Think about it.
Evolution, remember?

Decide to get to home plate –
to move and get the temple.
Why are you there?
It can be held again.
It can be found.

I found my soul.
Boys safe –
I feel sorrow.
Get your wrong TV tuned folks –
get God on your plate.
I’m tryin’ to slide you an angle on the classical guitar,
once it got posted,
the body’s freedom.
I’m measuring an ambush this morning –
I’m listening.

You can’t do it marshal,
shoot me in front of God and everybody.
(Make sure Nancy’s resistance is in the place that she wants;
she may resist letting go.)
Related visions,
I keep reading the title of our narrative.
But Bob misses,
play hide and seek.
That’s a camera
charged with think tank.

Eat eggs,
follow the list of the dawn.
Now that you’ve come up with,
you’re the unbelievable:
against evolution.
Albert Einstein the very next day is pointed out as saying:
a special case with special officers,
they couldn’t track it down,
a locked up.
I rank in it,
well self-giving lists.
The world is watching.
Splash!
A pedophile
makes its sense.

The Pupil and His Divine, a Harmony in Five Measures – 4

the Mother at 5, Sri Aurobido, 7

The Top of the Head Show

[Although formatted to fit your screen, the poem was originally written in 2014. It’s in the form of a dialogue with multiple speakers: the poet, his divine, various people in the audience, including children, and even a hostile being. Paying attention to punctuation and listening to the poem read, the voices dramatized, play key roles in interpreting it.]


Daddy,
you come.
We chakra this drink.
Can you believe I touched that?
That subtle body field,
where you put your hand,
can go inside.
Right this way.
The tooth fairy,
she do it,
touch zero
in my chakra need.

That little flower
below the navel
got burned
by pleasure.
It’s spinning faster now.
There’s a whack in the system,
all out of line.
Watch out,
behavioral problems,
emotional issues,
communication difficulty,
and it continues.

At the base of the spine,
at the tip of the tail,
a stir is underway.
It’s a partial kundilini arousal
of the sleeping kind.
The touch wanted it.
Eventually frustrated.
I want two hundred rupees
life-force size.
You ever wonder why delight?
Will go in directions
all this energy.
Puts the finger on it.

They would like their children…
They’ve already arranged things the way they like them you see.
The children are a boiled mess.
Even a Hatha yogi
– hello –
can’t swim these waters
without preparing years.
A child has its chakras out,
something we don’t know.

Seven dollars
divided by a rule
giving her a favor,
a full payment plan
individual.
I’m pretty sure
that agriculture is used.
The lesson plan:
get your
wrong TV tuned.

You’re a loud movie
Little boy.
Turn down the volume
I don’t know,
except that kind of love
increases it so.
Alternative medicine:
they have a top of the head.
Let’s reverse this flow,
channel that energy.

You can see
all the things they want to do.
Maniac,
it doesn’t make sense.
He has the capabilities
of being a proper powerful.
The top of the head focus
will open their inner vision.
All the behavior
has clouded it considerably.

First comes the cleaning
your room,
pick up after themselves,
take out the garbage,
sweep the floor.
Here you know what we found?
A divinity of cleanliness
gathering the ground
on that level.
Finish off this subject.
No one
likes their picture taken
dirty.
Field,
go, go, go.

Second program:
open the top of the head
and keep it open.
This is an area of the house
you can’t touch.
Focus them there.
This is why it takes so long:
well I can’t take it,
quiet now.

Calm down.
Pinpoint your awareness there
with me.
They manage a little bit.
The candle flame
as the sun goes down,
they can feel that
in their crown.
Do this exercise.
It’s a daily practice.

I’m going to the top of my head.
Who wants to join me?
(Lesson out perfume.)
My child where is your awareness?
What about a mountain top?
The television can wait.
Are you alive?
You’re so different.
Anything comes
to mess the routine,
hey,
be flexible.

The top of the head,
let me tell you some.
That’s where we cross over
at the death of the body.
The ignorant world,
that was the filling
of knowledge and the divinity.

She goes to school
to learn her way.
I’m not through on my way to the pool.
She holds back.
She’s tired.
Assimilation a lot of read until
the way they are
underwrites divinity.
They’ve got a few minutes
mind you.

I’ve given you something to chew on,
a riddle put in question
and solved.
We base our experience
at the beginning of evolution.
If you read that
you would open the top of the head and keep it open.
It’s a conscious movie.

Can I ask myself,
substantiality,
where is it found?
Why they look
there on the ground?
Asking a Hatha yoga this.
I use mercy to find out.
Meets the standard.
A division of excellence.
You want the best program.
You can’t buy a better arrangement.
I don’t want anything better than that.

Try to use the grocery store.
There’s a, index.
Oh that’s so beautiful
Ladies.
We support our groups.
I’m an issue at the top of the head,
spirit informing matter.
Where are you led?
I don’t think it’s to please behavioral problems.
We focus on matter matter’s our object.

It’s a beautiful arrangement
the world that we see,
but matter’s a picture show,
and we are spirits in it.
Who woke from the dream?
Is matter their gospel?
I bet a kundilini gave paper on this.
She’s around.
Can I borrow a drink?

Kundilini’s ill informed.
There’s a field there,
unshaped energy.
She’s not Spirit’s standing ground.
I’m gonna go in just a minute.
If we start at the base of the spine
to get a spiritual grip,
everything’s under conspiracy;
we have no leadership in the head.

Why did I start this mountain?
Our children’s future has a journey now.
Matter on top,
spirit arranged last,
their journey will be very predictable:
ordinary life.
Yes I agree.

My hat size
has a question for infinity:
matter a rigid movement,
how do we spiritualize it?
Just down here
there’s something going on.
I’m a top down answer.
Oh my folks?
Two disciples of yoga,
the Mother and Sri Aurobindo.

Names aren’t important.
How would you know?
It’s like a bite,
all the matter
of a person.
My intention
is to get this airplane off the ground.
Any serious pilot knows
that his instruments
are not where he is going.
They guide him there.
This poem
gives a very practical lesson in ground guidance.
I’m not getting a maintenance program.
I’m getting evolved.
I’d say that’s substantial.

We come to the close of our book.
Any questions?
Why it came.
We brought
this little boy
out of dog’s house,
put him in front of everybody
so that matter
can be woken up
from the crown down.
He’s a light on this subject.

The Pupil and His Divine, a Harmony in Five Measures – 3

Bathroom Control

[Although formatted to fit your screen, the poem was originally written in 2014. It’s in the form of a dialogue with multiple speakers: the poet, his divine, various people in the audience, including children, and even a hostile being. Paying attention to punctuation and listening to the poem read, the voices dramatized, play key roles in interpreting it.]


We look out bathroom street
a window to go higher.
I promise daddy I’m hungry.
Well eat the other one.
You must clean your plate.
Bathrooms error the truth.
They guide us to the wrong door.
We can’t help but play there.

Can I give you a bath this towel said.
You might want room.
I pressure you with cleanliness.
If I unfasten your belt,
Will I unfasten mine?
You’re in freedom’s uniform.
I look towards the bottom window
choosing to ignore freedom.
We put a special emphases there,
the point will get across:
I love your toilet
washing daddy said.
It wasn’t clean.

I image your hand.
It only wants exposure.
We open your sanctuary.
You feel a slight tease.
It’s a slow hand,
rubbing ground.
I’m afraid you’re finished.
The thought can be carried back
for future reference.

Can we get out here?
It’s a necessity arrangement.
Clean a child must be.
Rude we do not wash him.
Your pants you remove.
I’d pull down your life.
I’m all soap and lather.
You’re not into this are you?
You just wait up with a smile.

I showered my hand.
Give me that washcloth.
We go over your genitals.
They’re into themselves.
I just image poetry.
I may wash them I said.

Here’s the hard part:
just his genitals and you.
An image will show here
if you’re not on line –
the red hand buttering wood.
It’s old,
and you don’t think about it no more,
the emotions get away with it.

How I balance your ship:
I sink it in the neighborhood.
Can you say aggrandize it?
You can count your dream.
Army staples award.
We soldier here
the concept of war.
I habitat your thinking.

You want a real significance there,
the one that shoulders attention
on individuality.
I know what you’re saying:
give this guy his flag,
he’ll be his own nation.
There’s a private lesson there.

I’m waiting for your attention to change ground.
We hold onto his plate,
he won’t aim his life.
I’ll go to execute Galgatha.
I’ll go to my house.
I will pay payments you understand,
the leftovers.
Daddy sleep with me
right here.

Least I know I can talk to you.
That one’s the arrangement.
Alright you did it,
your friend the apple pie.
Daddy white collar
I expected among.

I only told him,
you hear deaf music.
It’s not about this time.
It’s about castle keep,
a personal defend line.
We are his defenders
of that little ship.
We keep the world from on it.
He can’t do that yet.

I am throwing the dust toy
a hidden view.
Now get drink you gotta eat.
The other bike is not working.
Wha what? Where?
I don’t want.
Now come here.
I’m serious now.
You don’t even wash them unless you got to.
That type of behavior
robs your castle.
I made a mistake.
Robs his also.
He needs to learn
to do it himself.

A host of programs.
I want to go to school.
Teach them with your free hand,
no hidden icons in its toolbar.
I’ll be back
if you’ve touched them that way.
We have a cross in the I.

Listen,
you draw the lights,
plan on there being
a stairwell.
My school I take it.
You teach me good,
okay you teach me
like this:
no hidden
motivation
I’m disappear.

He’s just a show up before, come on.
One of the very inquiries,
we dried it for itself,
dried it off,
a mountain view,
a safe program.
Hold your poets in there.
He’s a dynamically used vehicle
if you read him right.

Where is mother in the bathroom?
I believe ape ate the answer.
Dad okay you get in here.
Come to microphone.
Hey we’ve got to go
as long as it must.
In that grow folder
another year of right,
naturally.

Our area is clean.
We’ve looked beyond program,
what we’ve put down.
The body’s a bulletin board.
We pin touches on it.
She’s not a delivery system.
No you can’t.
You wouldn’t be able to.
They’ll be there.
I told you.
It just served its purpose,
their room.

Did you read the ten dollars?
Like everything else,
he’s on our list too loud.
We examine him.
You do not mind like this
to make the adjustment.
You see,
I’m sleeping beside my daughter.
We’ll cut your allowance.
I’ll give anyway.
In fact, I really hoped
to release this window by giving its dead.
A girl, minimize this window.
Stab here,
and it shakes the entire race.

In fact,
I did it for me
they have in clean.
She’ll demand the moon.
If I don’t give it to her
she’ll pitch a fit,
a daily TV.

A line of bad company that you’ve Illinoised,
that you’ve allowed,
will escape
and talk to people.
Who knows,
maybe it’s
gonna put you outta your house.

I’m sitting in the front.
That’s where they’ve got their attention,
the front of the movie.
They don’t reason out
what’s behind them.
Frame up here
on a mountain
and feel good.
This is the price of the program:
no behavior
that robs pleasure.

This is a mountain view.
I give you inside wrong
half an hour,
there’s the shower.
My birthday is coming daddy.
The top
I’ll pick up again.
What will we be reading?
Holistic medicine.

You might wanna take that peace.
I put him on the bus.
I play him,
I get moved.

The Pupil and His Divine, a Harmony in Five Measures – 1

Sri Aurobindo

 

The Listening Post

[Although formatted to fit your screen, the poem was originally written in 2014. It’s in the form of a dialogue with multiple speakers: the poet, his divine, various people in the audience, including children, and even a hostile being. Paying attention to punctuation and listening to the poem read, the voices dramatized, play key roles in interpreting it.]

You can see whatever you want.
I’m eraser not found you come in here.
We’re a friendly service.
Pull on it make sure it’s there.
It revolutionizes
your whole universe.
Wisdom is as free as doorways,
long direction movement
wrapped around your skin.

What the hell is going on?
That facility to hear playback,
all the universes spinning and you got a sound.
We pop in your head.
It arranges things,
continually adds to your bank account.
Completely unborn children
spend all their time
(Alright then I got plenty of time)
warming up to this sound.
It’s their pleasure arrangement.
Like packed honeycombs they are born.
I’m sorry you’re not very easy to control.
The baby knows a greater TV.
It’s his home channel.

We see our voices,
images in the air on the notebook of sight
the inner eye sees.
They’re often read.
Language can’t describe their variety
unless you had infinity’s notebook.
You can open up this vision,
this paper weight of silence
in the magnet of your thinking
that reaches beyond itself.

Large voices will attract,
entertain your ear.
There is no limit to its development.
You can construe it,
order it around,
when you want it to say something.
There’s mixture there,
an unaffordable see.
It costs dearly vision.

This eye of sight
can see the world in view
and work about to change it
starting with you.
It habits this land,
makes it build bridges
to further understanding.
Low and behold a new bridge is built.

We widen our view.
It goes without thinking.
We are in the cockpit of a larger plane
I’m going to fly around.
We silence our music,
give it greater strings to play.
Then it listens further
than the frontiers of time.

I see the images:
a waterfall of words that pressurize silence;
large freedom hills
naked as the Sun;
a camera that reads music.
Those’ll get yah warm.

A greater life is calling.
We seem to think we’re fine.
I’ll destroy your music
If I can’t stomach your thought,
so the Pied Piper says.
Wouldn’t want to hear about it first.
We’re not living.
We’re dead ants.
We suffer our measure
and drink it as wine.
Come to think of it,
we’re fine.

Can we escape?
We have this infinity’s ear
that helmets in the sight
to what larger there may be.
I’m giving you airplane.

I mean what stopped it?
It’s not broken.
We can try to remember it
some close to a dream.
It slips in like a spiritual thought
and says something new.
The listening is active but your father can’t come in.
Thought will override the program.
You must keep it on its knees.
We wait our season.
Right in the place where people are talking,
you give it an in-look.
That means you wait for something to happen
in the beginnings of sleep.

His day would go quickly he was trying to clean up.
Not a hat could be found.
He reached into his vision.
Just take that other one.
Just take His one.
I’m not going to talk to you about it
off guard.
A teacher does my thinking in moments of silence.
He is my vision’s partner.
We dock a few lines.
Ever hear of the master worker.
I’m the arrangement.
He’s actually there.

One hundred:
I can hear a reflex pointing our research first.
It aggrandizes the dime.
This snake has many things
at its garbage disposal.
Open your eyes and smile.
Village your truth.
Do you hear mouth here?
I hope you’re able to separate your hairs,
I mean lines.
A rough text point,
this signals your thinking.

We infinity our truth.
These are infinity’s guidelines.
I hold them out straight.
Infinity would never believe it.
You’re supposed to catch on.
I’ve rounded your thinking
with the history of milk.
You must be a pauper to drink it.
It orders only silence.
You listen in need.

We pull the kid out.
I’m about your thought,
your merry-go-round.
I follow the leader
of what you drink.
There caution sorrow,
disappointment’s ring
if you go off on some tangent.

Listen to spiritual practice.
You’d need to listen wide.
A dream fashions from this same fount,
and you can take us anywhere.
I come from a higher place than that.
I come from infinity’s window.
I’ve ordered your thinking
along these lines:
there is a listening post,
your higher heart.

Good word.
Sit in there
come clean,
Recover.
I can get richer,
but I’ve spent all my dime.
Listen again.
To be read over,
listening silence.

Image Pondicherry

 

Image Pondicherry

Poetry
I need you.
He fell into the bricks.
Thank God let him through.
He’s an image in a photograph.
What visibility.
All citywide wears one face.
It gathers in the gloom.
Was to fight
till the front soul noon.
Let’s give soft yoga shoes
a copy of The Letters
and give those bored little crazies the cubbyholes.
Came out peaceful Pondicherry.

An Audience Song

I took this at the theater of Alliance Française in Pondicherry and developed it in our darkroom

An Audience Song

Poetry enhances
our little corner of life’s room.
It’s what we splash on our faces
to get the stories out.
You would contradict this song.
That’s the mystery.
And we look at an iceberg,
it roses from the ground.
Underneath it stalls in light.
A brief ocean
has rounded in our ears
the equity
of a larger see than ours.
Alimony this payment
to that stuff in us
at noontide’s sing.

I’ve rounded poetry.
You hear the contradiction?
It’s a blistery see
with what ails yah,
the exuberance
of a state of being
laughing at the stars.
It’s a transaction
between you and sight
that calls all what you don’t see
into play.
I measure my life by it
one poem at a time,
a poet in my room
attended by verse itself.
You are my audience
lines of poetry.
What people there
the contradictory note,
the flowers of which I speak.

Honey Do You Sweep Under the Rug?

 

Video: ‘Lucy’s Cosmic Dream’ by Douglas M.

Honey do you Sweep Under the Rug?

by Donny Duke

Hey John Coward,
me too coming.
Standing on the train.
Look at
where is she:
is this a science
or is this evidence?
You look for invigorating theories
brought on by the catchphrase word.
Delve deeper and you might find life.

What’s this habit here?
Only outward tuned.
Tell me you don’t know anything:
it’s all conjecture, guess, and patchwork answer.
Evangelize this uncertainty.
All that can be known is in your little book.
Gimmie that a second;
right here
it says you’re at
a larger historia
than right here taking an inventory of what I’m saying.

Behind closed doors
a muscle romance with dawn
tells your inner life with dream.
Behind walls of thought
you are rounding
2000
go somewheres.
Open your inner life,
spend time there.

Where is the key?
In the realm of your bed,
around the neck of dream
and other things during sleep.
Pour over the books there like a university.

No way
a phantom
I see it.
Superstition idn’t it?
Science’s armchair here?
Science can’t reckon there.

Ambulance
we got here.
Trade anonymous
perfume
for the smell of God at your door.
It’s expensive.

Oh you laugh and say smile?
Don’t try to shut up the bottom mile
Richard.
Alight lookin’ good Brenda.
Still study your cat.
Bank it on the lips of dream
the rest of it.

Originally posted with the title “See Beyond the Peon” and without the last verse as a comment to the BBC Magazine article Point of View: "Ghosts and the Material World", May 5, 2013. It came via the inner voice.

 

Original Sin

My must suggested the subject, and I made the shot and developed it

Original Sin

In a sunny corner of remote earth
the bite of it all
challenged orthodoxy.
This was in Nature’s plan.
Green-gold it moved.
This conducted harmony
operating on discords –
not a packaged plan,
neither from the stars.
It brought in cities beyond the universe.

We bask in its revelry –
a riot of God
on lone isles of trust.
Wonderful it wore shoes.
Naked impulse did not light its lamp.
A renegade,
it brought all to bear on noontide.
Light held its room.

Yes, we sing in darkness’ lair.
We deliver anthems
without knowing on which we rest.
It came to us unclothed,
and we saw naught but sin.
What distance orthodoxy
from all that abounds in this place.

 

This poem came complete via the inner voice while I was sitting and waiting for a room darshan on Mother’s birthday at the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in 2015. It was originally posted in the old blog of Douglas and I, The Chipmunk Press. It bears mentioning that I went to the Samadhi the next day after writing the poem and inwardly asked where I should put the poem, and I heard my muse answer:

To the question in Sri Aurobindo's room:
are you there?"