In Everything You Do

“Jocelyn From the Psychic Being” by Donny

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

Gentlemen of the jury,
how do you find the defendant?
We find the defendant
not guilty.
They stay in formations,
his electric.
Come tomorrow,
humanity takes a picture of these.

How do you say avatar?
Oh my God it’s God on earth
dressing up in human.
And a God takes form as human yes
in the cycles of the Earth,
but let’s go beyond the universe,
where cosmic Gods are not.
We can get higher.
Let’s go to who’s manifesting this show,
and here you are an avatar.
You are That you see.
It’s the greatest football notion.
It’s Excalibur.
It’s right here in my poem.
I’ve arrived on land.

It thinks in your thoughts,
but it’s not you thinking.
There’s a rift in my understanding.
This is a riddle with a master clue.
Just get information.
No one has the drawing gun.
That would be interesting,
knowing who we were.

It would revolutionize science.
It would be the biggest thing on earth.
It goes without saying it’s commentary
this rap.
I’m larger than science.
I can’t figure out who I am.
And science ensues.
It goes on and on and on and on
and gets trapped in the original question:
that’s not a real question.
It sees no representative show on earth.
It digs around in the dirt for nothing at all
and can’t get out of itself.

Let’s show this around:
nobody’s lookin’
at we might be part of a larger process
than everything in front I see.
You get the picture?
There’s a larger you looking at you through you,
and the world is a symbol for us to see that.
That’s why it all matters.
You’re getting bigger you see
and bigger and bigger.
All you have to do is evolve.
There's more along this show.
That’s an evolutionary wear an I,
the idea of the human take.

I have founded a world for you,
given you the idea supreme,
shown you an idea of Supermind,
an idea among us.
Where is your identity wrought,
in your home or office,
nation or religion,
in your people?
Take off those identities
as your crowning achievement.
You’re being so little you see.
Now let’s go to war.
Throw morality into the frying pan.
It is yet an uncooked idea.
You think it’s why we’re here
so outraged at other people’s behavior.

Okay take off your mask.
That’s you under there,
the one doin’ wrong.
This is knowledge by identity,
the healing of wrongdoing in this world.
Oneness garden,
that’s oneness who we are.
That’s the station of Superself,
and we get bigger all the time.

Do you see yourself?
Do you even know you’re there,
where you can’t see yourself?
Take this on the road,
the larger than you you are,
a thought and feeling overlay
to get you to look up.
It changes lives.
It’s the antidote to our sin.
It gives self-righteousness a big punch in the nose.
It sure is generous with everyone.
It heals our land.
It's higher than religion.
It’s not a God to worship or a song to sing.
It’s the hard work of bein’ human who you are.

Unveil the avatar.
Understand the science?
Put it on every thought and deed
you encounter in the world,
and show it to yourself
in everything you do,
and there you are,
evolving.
It’s evolutionary, ain’t it?

A Better Shake Himself

Nitish’s new video for his YouTube channel, a challenging poetic odyssey to and at the top Arunachala mountain, Tamil Nadu, India

A Better Shake Himself
Where was that orange beginning?
4:30 at the government.
It’s time to quit school.
I do not think it’s normal.
You think it defines a kid.
What boring lives you must live.
Say hello to the teacher.
Is school good for kids?

Where would Ramana Maharshi bring us?
I don’t think I understand that yet.
I don’t know what it means to be free on the inside.
Imagine not wanting ice cream, or chocolate, or snacks,
and when the world grabs me
I don’t get upset.
Imagine I love everybody the same,
and I love them dearly.

I can imagine these things,
but is that what I want?
But I think I wanna be happy
in any room I’m in.
Wouldn’t you?

That’s it spiritual enlightenment
according to Maharshi.
Do you like shrimps?
Press that.
You run dates?
Don’t get any bigger than that.
Open!

This interviewing for
the Supermind,
The Supermind—
I came home to your paper at Gingee.
Enlightenment opens the door.
Gets all tangled up in enlightenment,
this soul concept I mention.

This sing on little boy,
I lost half of his head
when he went back to school.
I put my hands up.
I throw him away.
Okay what do I do with him?
School finishes him off.
Yeah I know,
gentler society
சின்ன பையன் (cinna paiyan)

We need to get rid
of they lose themselves in school.
Do that,
and reading, writing, and arithmetic will not get in the way of enlightenment.
It’s all on the table,
Mr Soul concept
and the way to enlightenment.

It’ll be a mountain put you there,
one you face alone,
no matter how many climbing partners you have.
You hear the allegory:
you mountain climb the spiritual path.
There’s no other way to get there,
no other way atall.

Can one understand from animals we came?
In that mountain you can.
I gotta study everything.
Mouth of destiny
does not use memorization.
Get out and do.
This is the balance.
Part of it’s red color.
Beyond the rulebook
spiritual enlightenment.

It starts with meditation
the wrong man will get you to believe.
There’s clothes bigger.
How intense is going to be
your progress through life.
Consciousness reals shadows.
The seat of his consciousness
put on there’s more
to reality to see.

Went to the hardest places
in the video game,
their inner spaces.
I need you to put on moral glasses
the preacher will tell you.
No, you are wide open to the sky.
Enlightenment comes through a clear lens.
To all find open to my computer.

Not his trusted hiking partner there beside him,
it’s an enlightened-year-old kid.
That’s his school.
It’s happenin’.
You want that killed dead?You wouldn’t wanna mess that up.

Not the only banjo.
Colynn Hit,
Mr Presscot,
and yours truly Who-Would’ve-Thought-It,
combine their forces with this little boy to meet enlightenment—
climbing partners everyone,
a sadhana circle, dream group, sort of thing.
We’re all comin’ along.
You comin’?

A Rabble-Rouser

Nitish’s new video for his YouTube channel: https://youtu.be/yt_dgyVRqJw

A Rabble-Rouser
Well I’m Mr. Big.
A lot happens in two hours.
You ever hear of the Pathfinder Section?
Bad idea
YouTube channel,
a big mistake.
You’re free in the top part.
You’re not in the reality of the moment.

This video’s about you.
We run out in the street—
check it out!
Have you heard the sounds of New Tall Torio?
A rather embarrassing moment.
We aren’t being who we are.

Yah hear me kids?
That’s the storyline:
this guy over there
has got the worth of the moment.

I’m on the phone.
I gotta talk to Him,
not the new banjo the sky keeper.
Hey God!
I wanna be where I’m at okay!
the real me,
the one beyond ships.

Look at him.
He is the reality.
That’s who we are.
Take your head out of your storybook.
Get that mountain in your hands

I’m it.
Surround the place,
even a universe,
and I’m so big I’m free.
You have to look.
I am really free.

My God the paperwork
just to speak about him.
It’s not online.
It’s in your kitchen.
Think
just like this:
it’s not beyond us now.

I have to look for a channel:
the real thing.
Don’t stop believin’.
God on Me
He thinks out of your field of consciousness.
Field of consciousness,
an opportunity
to be involved in His masks
—shy Ram beyond be said—,
an opportunity to field some notes with Him
Nitisheh.

They’re family.
They are together
that man and this little boy in this mountain.
It’s where they belong.
You wouldn’t put them apart.

But the Corporations, Human After All

Coca Cola Commercial – I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing (In Perfect Harmony) – 1971. YouTube channel Shelly Kiss

Poet’s magnificent phase,
I’ve got a better business model.
See the ground work?
Will they catch the spirit?
No.
So what in the world is going on?
A blog post,
now that’s goin’ on.
You brought it up.
Just put it on harm’s end,
and Coca Cola will be,
be their commercials.
They almost art.

You’re going after
big monster,
you’re gonna hear the whole song.
That’s executive Coke.
I do believe you have your organization.

When you identify with them,
it’s like watching a robot.
They just can’t help it.
Government services
will only draw pennies.
Don’t drink their milk.
Broke the standard
arrest them kill them.

I don’t know you put an incubator there.
It’s a house of love.
They can’t leave till they learn it.
Goodwill breeds goodwill.
You’re dealing with character change,
you must respect
the enormous obstacles in their way.
I’ve given you the formula.
See how Norway checks it out.

But you’re talkin’ about now.
You can have it,
something on the lime machine,
a screw you piece of paper,
and that won’t solve anything.
How do you bark?
Now let me study this problem please.
Wew, these people I’ve got to reach.
Can you show them your humanity?
Don’t just walk away.
Be engaged with them.
Let them go through all the stages of friendship together.

You can do that in your writing.
Target maturity spots,
a senior executive,
or someone just vocal
about being a harm product.
Why don’t we have organizations gathered in peace?—
friendship quests,
a center of goodwill.

How do you probe this?
With the feats of your heart.
I’m talkin’ genuine concern
for the person you want to reach.
Enough of you do that they’ll listen,
and even if they don’t
you’ve made inroads into safety.
Some of them
will answer your call,
and you’ve got a horse in a moving body for change.

Can I get you to see this?
It’s the way we do it,
take on the corporations.
We’re dealin’ with each other’s stuff.
It grabs us all.
Patience my dear friend and you’ll remember.
I was such an asshole to my niece wasn’t I,
or I have somebody I treat like shit.
It takes eyes to see
we’re all in this together.

When you crawl out of the community,
what’s you thinkin?
Won’t these voices
cross this bridge with me?
Identify with the people.
That means love.
You have to really identify.
That’s what you’re doin’ here by the way,
learnin’ how to bring love in every picture.
Can you grasp that?
It’s our mission in life.
Do you hear me Steven?

The Cool Rictus on Laugh’s Face

Rascal, ten weeks

Sometimes there are only things between me and God worth sharing.
Where your dog died of parvo,
the depth you have gained,
the outlook on life,
brings worlds to you.
Bring this home to you.

Death has taken my faith in You.
Little Rascal screamed.
Can I sum up that scream?
I’m in agony.
Is this what it means to live/love? [words spoken simultaneously]
Is there death the only hope?

What wisdom is this,
to kill a puppy?
My muse will testify to the lies
of the supposed help.
Could I not be counseled,
warned of the lies being told?
You remained silent,
letting them use Your voice.

Even now I’m brahmachari,
and that makes no difference.
What are You trying to prove?
What more do You want from me?
I don’t understand Your cruelty.
What’s it for?
Are You just urgent business,
heedless of the lives You topple?

Do little puppies matter?
And what about our dogs?
Do You just kill them to gain our obedience,
drag out their agony for days?
How are you different from the devils you fight?
How are you different from man?

What’s next,
my death?
Would you believe I’m real?
And I have rent the veil
between You and the Earth,
and we are expendable in Your work.
Pain and blood,
is that the base with which You make worlds,
so that Your world may never fall?

What occasion is this,
to throw our children away,
to make them suffer so?
And do You have a babysitter
to make sure You see us as more than pawns on a field?
Include real
when You look at us
please I beg you Joseph Smith.

Now Sri Aurobindo,
you’re taking him,
and Rascal,
to build Your sternness on life’s open base.
Can the likes of me stop You?
Compassion, oh my master compassion
build this world with Thee.
Can You hear me?
I’ll wait and see.

Booster over, you know.
No need to tell people about our caring experience,
but to save a life is to change destiny,
and there was a lot
little Rascal carried.

Why didn’t You tell me?
Hitted it like this:
death could not even be admitted.
We listen to you.
Anear Conchum,
You know I feed her sometimes.
Can you get bigger than all these objects you’re taking care of?
You’re so in with them you’re missing Me.
I’m real, you know.
Now steady
through the strongest hold ever
on the United States military.

All this is not going to matter.
I just forget about it
when Daddy holds me softly awake.
Time’s comin’.

Well I heard it,
didn’t gamble this in my mind,
and I speak to the divine in my room,
and know that I know that they’re there.
Now where do we begin?
Maybe you oughta brush your teeth.
You pick a folder and
be a little unkind.
It’s your care-body too.
Now give it attention.

This is Earth business,
keeping the higher ground.
Unbelievable the pain on this Earth,
and even God partakes in,
or stands aloof while we die
in more pain than we can bear.
Can we remedy this?

No God no,
don’t use our pain as Your weapon
to bend us to Your will.
I know I’m speaking out of line.
Would You say it differently?

I had to go file on me.
As much as God’s right there holding your hand,
why would you want to be an instrument of the divine?
You get no rewards.
You just get solemn looks.
Nobody knows how to handle you.
You talk about the untalked,
and the most liberal person in the room
just wants you to shut up.
You open doors
that people can’t see,
and they think you’re the dumber for it.

Why does life matter?
If it didn’t I wouldn’t talk to you.
Do you hear me?
I’ve mentioned what can’t be taught.
This is the part of God no one understands.
Do you know God?
Did you know He grows?
And it is precisely here it is needed.

I put it back in sync.
I don’t deny God.
I just want Him to grow
to be better than God.
He can see the sufferin’.
And don’t punish the little ones
for its innocence in climbing life.
Let every motion picture
take no puppy down into hell
I ask of you God.

The Pupil and His Divine, a Harmony in Five Measures – 2

Sleeping Arrangements

[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.]


Mark my words,
a behavioral challenge
amplification wrong.
We poetry in our notebook
understand the behavior.
Get all listened out.
I do believe you’re excited about this.
There’s no place in our notebook
to gather wrong afield
so that we can see it better
and amplify its heal.
Are you with me Houston?
Ground Control to Major Tom,
put your seat belts on.

We have a reason.
Wrong could come break the relationship.
Finish thought:
you need control.
Wrong’s measuring basket:
to drink or drink more?
It’s a field show.
It’s a lessons study.
No ‘what daddy’
my son’s been imaged right.

Your measuring stick,
your wrong.
Do the exercises,
as long as you take the right one
above the window:
good history.
Did you see this?
That’s your heart song.

What happened?
Said to me.
I don’t want him going in there.
I act, we put there.
This is the first page:
yes you can sleep in your daddy’s room.
Sometimes we fail to see a better arrangement.
Sometimes we fail to see the solution at all.
Can get serious:
family court.

May we have your attention?
Please hold onto the exits.
A blue door
a thousand rupees,
that’s a spiritual way out.
Daddy I want to kiss you.
He’s green labeled that.
Whatta we do?
A different time,
a different thing.
Important that you don’t involve matter.
No swimming on the ground.
All need will read
God’s book.

What we’ve got here is a behavioral animal.
It has sharp teeth.
Stay in front.
If he pulls his gun out,
leave it blank.
I’m sorry I’m dividing.
We’ve got to arrange things
so that the muscle
get anybody complicated,
change house.

This is clear music.
You’ll sleep together in peace.
Watch those corner edges.
They rub a body mean.
I’m a happy song
you sing to your children
when she’s not in the house,
a line Molly.

Why did Molly come?
I’ve seen only skin much,okay?
Place the truth in your hands.
You know it won’t control them.
And it’s just like it was now,
trying to figure what was going on.
I’m just telling you something before you react:
I’m bringing you change.
That’s the technique.

The rude imperious surge,
that didn’t get you.
Do you want promise?
The Dallas runway.
You see some good
in this arrangement.
Don’t blow me away.
Keep the tickling hand free of charge
and the alphabet.
Study it please.

Doing things together
don’t let paper weigh you down.
What you want is a free, easy, spontaneous
gift hand.
You take this
you show it to them.
Must be nice to not have any fetters.
Just remember why you’re here.
It’s not to aggrandize the show.
A growth going on,
and the body carries its charge.
Sleeping arrangements made easy,
I go to sleep.

What Tamil movie?
We image sleep,
make it our breakfast song.
It’s the dream image that we care for.
That is molding the show.
You don’t know how sensitive the hand is
in the area of dream.
It is like another house,
another house owner.
It can fasten itself
to the waking movement,
and wrong behavior,
convinced of itself,
plays the hand.
But not when it comes
awake.
That’s the prime time TV.

Your hand has license there.
It meets them in dream.
They seem arranged for the movement,
probably asleep.
You have to go to clean.
You can’t.
A deaf movement.
Which one is that?
The life hand
has no will in it
to move.
Your head
and all its arrangement
is sleeping in the bed.

What you do?
There’s a program to put on.
It’s called make the body safe.
Call on divinity to help you,
some divine name.
Open to them,
and close the hand.
Hercules had no stronger task.
You see,
we can mess up;
we can come abuse
so early.

There is a physical culture.
The body has its own field.
Your body
wrapped around another body
ignites imagery in sleep.
I dreamed that I was in here by him,
next to him in bed.
Doubled doors are open.
Hot red hold me wrong.
Hot red you see,
hot red.

Hidden desire
can play.
These are occurrences in sleep
that hold us down in life.
They can arrange things,
pass this on to another child.
The waking world is full of such traps.
And we don’t even remember our dream,
even though our lightened load
is acting its ground.
This is a double pleasure.
Our child wakes up from his sleep
and waits for a buddy to fulfill it.
Physical culture I’m mad at you.
Though you are mad at me,
you like it
in the dream.
It’s a body arrangement.

What will put peace here is your spiritual test.
Who do you sleep with at night?
Your own dream?
Who it is you are open to
will single out your sleep,
open in the sense
that’s where you move.

You see my connection.
It’s a high note.
A practice song this is.
A night is drama to cross.
Put a pillow under it.
Only names
are personal enough
to put it together.
The name should rhyme with God.

There was something else.
The child in bed with you
isn’t even there.
They represent God’s feelings,
an image in the night
made in both areas:
I have walk in
and close the door.
We move to God’s nature
the sleeping child.

Have you fastened everything?
I can arrange it some.
You didn’t contact me,
subscriber.
A pulled image,
give me a dime to see.
We keep our images and our heads together
or they lose reality.
Bases cover this program,
the high note
we put our money on.

Yeah you hear:
hold your child a little.
Keeps safe with him.
We do not encourage sleeping with children.
No,
it’s just not a big deal.
You wouldn’t be able to
hand out body bags.

You’re not gonna get clearer than that for fifteen minutes,
the poetry of another song
even closer.
I sound your sleep.
Hear a whistle?
You’re an area dude.
You carry your first one folks.

Please dog go.
I gave you one rupee.
He’ll have a warm spot in his freezer.
He’ll want to put something there.
It feels warm to him,
and that’s all that’s interesting.
It’s nine or something no?
I don’t want your answer.
Tell me.
He can’t ride you like that
if you’re going to heal his movie.
He has grass ready.
You just need to cut on it.
We feel good.
That’s the problem.

His sleep knows this distance.
He’s practicing in dream.
You have to arrange it to watch his tower.
You hold the boy with your sleeping arm.
This is a measure of sleep.
No leave the stuff there.
All that we need is what you’re bringing to school on Monday,
okay?

Hey Donny,
his sleep you can’t ride,
but I can.
Go on, get some paperwork.
If you can just move for a minute,
that penis clouded,
you hit the note
that images safety.
You felt a strong glow,
Him.
The divine
had muscle.
He’s favored in sleep.
The urge is there,
but nobody eats.
You’re walking him out of this program:
exclamation point
in his area down there.

Though I’m sure it won’t be understood,
he gets dressed every day.
You must learn to read the music,
siren songs,
then move accordingly.
This is your fifth gear.
Man, speed up.
Do you know what ten miles serve?
Hey man I pass everything.
I’ll see you later.
Life being predictable,
same cost.

What is this?
The harmony of attention.
If I were you
I’d probably prefer to be
part of the program:
let me love you what I do,
but let’s get this story straight.
Touch those together.

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?"

The Killer Find

The Killer Find

In whatever comes our way.
After eighteen seasons it’s so funny though.
I bet you
I responded.
Leave the characters alone.
We’re windows,
pure margin.
We’ve a back part.
Halfway finished you want to throw me away.
Who me?
It was hard gave him a lawyer.
This is a transcendent poem.

Wait a minute,
is my life short?
Barely here.
It seems you don’t want to think for the psychopath.
You tell me.
His therapists are his words:

I don’t come down easy.
I’m a middle man.
I like killing.
You can see it in their eyes when you shoot them:
life has meaning.
I’m instructed to go.
Good girl.

Limitation’s my ink.
I can’t express the dying word.
My favorite is the surprise face.
They look at me so dumbly.
Maybe it would sound better if you play with it.
Who?

I’m laughing in front of their house.
I will take whatever I want.
You give it to me.
I’m not drowning.
I’m a full on power.
Your life gives me whatever I need.
Your life is my answer to life’s boredom.

Man, I’ve had to please,
grovel up to the paycheck.
Man I’m big.
They don’t know what power has come their way.
The person I kill sees my importance.
That’s the way the Gods speak to you sister.
With me have some understanding.
No, I haven’t found Them.
But I will put on after.

It’s gonna be tough
To get him outta there.
There’s the joy of the free ride.
Oh I’m sorry,
The police found your tracks.
I come distinct from them.
You are their calling card.
Some of them,
your attitude they share,
though on a different path.
You kill to fulfill delight.
They do under the guise of duty.
It’s a humiliation law code.
They don’t actually need to kill.
Yeah you know it.

Released from crime,
whose letter’s not interesting or significant,
the psychopath sits in jail and thinks:
contact with other people,
is this the word Kim’s back?
You know all shades of restaurant, right?
I’m glad because you’re going to marry me.
Kim is his split personality.
Kim is slightly easier to get along with.
Kim has a plan in his head:
he can play the game
whilst he’s in prison.

The environment,
the basest emotions are given free reign.
He just erupts on Ginger Ale.
Meanwhile he has a little house
beyond the reason
unfolding in his soul story.
This house beauty knows the price of.
It is beauty’s tool.
Beauty can find this arm.
This is mastery’s circle.
Those in care of him
did we want there?

Let’s not open our mouth wide.
We can keep him right here.
We can do our level best to control him.
No one is pushing us otherwise.
Why isn’t the government doing something for him?
Oh my God I just had the weirdest look.
You batted my elbow.

Let’s call in the hotshots.
Go out searching homes I’m already home.
And what’s this crime carrier do?
He acts as a closing agent.
He solidifies the type.
It’s his mercy in prison.
I’m mean this guy has feelings.
They’re all sharpened up.
You wouldn’t believe how mercy he is.
Oh I know;
I can’t seem to find mine.
You kill that fish.

Gold is one of the most dangerous places.
My wife distributes many mountain climbers.
But you won’t let him see the mountain
nor marry my wife,
a river whose flow is words.
Come in,
No one wants to play babe I’m sorry,
no one wants to play.

That refused my song.
I couldn’t bend in the knees.
This is not to your bureaucrat.
This is to that reach in you
that answers prayer.
Anybody can bow to reach a God.
I’m calling on your special stuff.

What’s the time?
Nine thirty-two.
What’s this I want?
Process change.
You forgive me
the hands call
words you don’t like.
That would mean a different arrangement for his answer.

His body you’ve kept in buffalo tape.
The body is getting just to ten.
With the body move on ahead.
Alright time’s up.
Maybe it was too complicated.
I’m trying to tell you
that there’s a river in that man,
a natural born therapist,
that will take him outside the jail house
a lover of humanity.

It looks better with Me inside the point.
I am divinity in Man.
I am his first answer.
The soul is not a piece of plastic.
It has a divine outgrowth.
It calls My name in secret.
It is My pages heal your story.
I know the ways of the world,
am master of existence.
The universe I hold in the palm of my hand.
Its every movement My gaze understands.
The Sun measures My name,
is a symbol for its splendor.

I sit atop this man and await your law to give way.
He will not find Me on his own.
He cannot cargo that answer.
Necessity will not hold his hand.
Handsome him with love,
make beauty his living room,
surround him with those who know their land,
and from behind the heart My representative will sing to him
all the measures of his life
put into harmony’s window.

Hearing this high speech
the Gods will rainbow their messages.
He will be an open vessel for universal lore.
Healing streams of light will come to him from the stars.
The moon will glow in his notebook.
The darkness inside him will not know where to hide.
It will be vanquished with the coming dawn.
This I can do in him
if you let him see his own worth.

I enter the country late
because this man is a monster to you,
and you will not see him home.
Now use lovelier powers
to bend his knees,
ones that call from the house of love.
You have grappled him down in hate.
What a wooden start.

Kid, you murdered a family.
This is who we kill.
All wrapped up in mourning
the family lies slain.
Existence has been robbed of its joy.
That loved one’s face stole the sun.
Madness crawls on their hours threatening touch.

What’s the matter?
My temple is gone.
Here is life’s sweetheart.
We bridge reality with this,
a smile that passes by?

Our loved ones are borrowed customers.
They are characters in a plot.
They sooth our need awhile and move on.
We think them a reality’s ship.
One little curtain closed can undo our lives.

What management is this?
What fools we are prey to death.
The heart has deeper need
than its animal holdings.

We pause here on the brink of life’s meaning.
Wisdom,
it’s applicable;
it’s up to you.

Matter fills every corner.
We cannot surround its view with anything else.
God even is of this make made.
Our understanding of Him is material.
He is a material agent not a spiritual cause
in our view of God acting.
He acts; He moves; He speaks
a material outlook.
God can be otherwise,
but we would have to brush name aside,
see past its formula,
the useful path,
to something larger than name.

There’s a family in these woods.
We can bridge the gap to God.
God can wear their face.
Then we begin to be circled by love,
when God wears every face in the crowd.
The loved one is just a familiar particular,
an intimacy we can hold
clasping Him.
Death only rearranges His face.
But God is deeper still.

God has a beckoning plan.
Here, some side paragraphs you should know.
This is deep today.
What are we supposed to do?
Grief, you will have problems there.
Eyes trapped.
Let them know where to stand.
A senseless killing is a teacher still.
Deep it will hold you open to reality.
There is your existence swim:
you can see beyond time.

Life has more fields of study.
We receive again our loved one.
This face in death God wears.
God is a surrounding look.
God is our surrounding cause.
The meaning of life is a parable
these eyes unfold.

My foot’s out.
I can’t keep score.
This poet has found bankrupt as his last measure.
I cannot keep God’s vision in my sight.
These eyes are the toughest to hold.
The Unseen all around us,
the very issue of our existence,
and the world looms larger still.
Our daily bread becomes the story-line,
or a major left in sin.

I had come to speak a word of Silence.
Chaos has erupted in my song.
The killer knows these waters.
He can see no large eye of God.
The world presses in on him
its sideshow of the blind alley scene.
He cannot see out of its dim tale.
Nowhere has he found knowledge close.

All run to a savage dawn.
Man has no larger purpose than this:
there’s a world out there;
take it.
Do it now reads the signs
along the roadsides of his life’s little spurts.
All seek the same need,
a vague point lost in advertising.
War rumors his world.
The daily news is a glowing red
convincing you the world’s on fire,
convincing you of your need to fear.
He can read the papers:
every man for himself.

The good that men call society,
he’d seen its vision’s sweep.
Huddled in a little courtroom called monster
he was its prey.
It hung debasement around his neck.
This was where social disease
spread out into the land.
He banked on this loan.
He hoped no greater glory
than to be the system’s plague.
Society would find death in him.

We can vision out this story.
Its huge eyes cry sight.
Where in this is God’s encircling sun?
In the moment you laid eyes on Him.
Can you top this vision?
No measure knows its score.
Error cannot blind its sight.
Error defines it more.
I mean to put reality above God
it results I cry in my own mess.
God shines through his shiny overcoat.
He can wear a mistake too.
Here in harmony’s reach I can clean it up.
A killer’s no less a man.

One key feature is that sometimes you make a mistake life for.
You’ll have to turn yourself save me.
Another orgy from that.
Okay, alright?
You would threaten?
Up here, alone, encouraged, and again we encounter God.

Wildlife management,
I am a listening shelf.
The soul is not a sword.
It holds us together.
It is our flight suit.
We pull the answer
from behind,
all along our heart’s show.
This is our bank card:
the promise of a better land.

The heart is the particular keeper.
It waits on a pull from the outside
to respond to its purpose.
This is not its better arrangement.
When we close off life’s customers,
when we come together on our own land,
alone in life’s cell,
we can manage its whereabouts,
we can find divinity’s room.

This is our soul keeper,
what banks in us on divine gold.
It makes no commerce with life’s heart.
It cherishes only divine holdings.
Our divine outreach,
where we find divinity’s wings,
is a cavern deep and wide,
a long fall to the reach of it.
The flame that you find there
will be the wonder that you seek.

This is the divine representative in Man,
the soul-flame.
It evolves with our common start.
It waits for union with the soul above,
the divinity we are
high above ourselves.

It is this link,
this psychic fire
literary,
that is our spokesman for healing change.
It sings to us that endeavor.
We know no outer managing overview.
This is our directing circle
we write ourselves.

Help me organize this arrangement
happily furnish the need
a teacher
from divinity’s schoolbook,
a divine name to give you lesson.
It is the soul makes this choice.
Though they seem the Sun itself,
they are not the goal only its keepers.
In time your own Sun will shine through.

I’ve given you direction.
Here you go to process change.
Bring this soul round to the front.
Make the psychic leader of the life.

I don’t know if you understand me but
I’ve shown you where healing can be found.
No, you don’t have to do that,
be under the guidance of a supervising counselor,
attend meetings,
undergo any type of special training.
We receive this change alone.
Those on the outside awaiting results,
they do not deliver the baby.
They are support vehicles.
They help manage our affairs.

You will see the soul is particular.
It does not make the same wardrobe for all,
not exactly,
but it does use
a similar vocabulary of symbols
when it talks to us.
Someone who has passed this bridge
of word-wise
– thank you ma’am –
can give us meanings clear.
You don’t want them to stand around.
A little bit different
than a guide,
they keep their noses out of it.
Their sentence help we need with words and phrases.
The whole we do not give to them.

Now look,
okay I’ve spent
years listening
processing this change.
Keep going.

My sight here seemed to call over completely retractable ideas.
That camera,
comic that look?
Yeah, where is it?
A demon’s laugh is graphic.
Discernment
will be your growth rate.
A divine smile
has a heartbeat.

Listen,
you have a top priority,
a process change.
Lore has not this freshness.
Watch the road here.
It’s wide open.

Come to the river half dry
and you won’t be parched enough to hear it sing.
Dry off before you go in there.
Emotionally wet from the world,
we will hear desire’s holdings
if the ears can find the speech at all.

You know where I stand?
Behind your thought.
It is a trance vision
in the proximity of sleep.
You are awake to hear its call.
Inside the bell tolls.
There is no thought to the arrangement.
Thinking disrupts the process.

I’m sorry if listening stills.
We must accustom ourselves to its strain.
You come to it by degrees.
Your life must quiet to its measure.
The field of your difficulties is the better answer
than the retreat getaway.
You want to hear your problems.
This becomes the greater challenge
and the special key:
you quiet your life in the noise of life,
and you process your change in its tromp and strife.

Mastery has its brand here.
I’m a letter on healing nearing its sum.
The listening smile,
calm it brightens its world.

A summit answer,
we cannot process its plenitude.
There’s something wrong.
We can’t get over our outrage.
Debasement lies squealing.
Our basest reactions hold us here.
The psychopath is only a measure of his world.

Society knows no sitting station.
It has no examining review board.
The pack mentality governs its field book.
Disguised as law and due process,
they wreck havoc on human justice.
If it has become more sensitive,
it is because it is more aware of itself,
but revenge is still our answer to crime.
Our ethics have not evolved beyond this.

I sing to you its appointment,
the beginnings of a nobler race.
This has been a longing since the day we were born.
It has smiled upon us from afar
even when we’re at war.
We know this future ours,
however many disclaimers the times show.

I’m telling you it’s cold out there
in this waiting room of today.
Wait until you see society’s sharp teeth.
Then you understand.

Every once in awhile we’ll get a call from them,
the seekers after goodwill
as the governing agent of society.
They have each given formula –
medicine.
This medicine watch it,
it’s not applicable in time.
Its feet do not touch the hours.
It relies too heavily on outer stress.

We capitulate to the call
of that greater need within,
our hearts calling in stillness
to the reach above,
a medicine we long for.

Being a moment on change,
wonderful that outlook.
Human divinity,
it’s applicable.
Each holds this in store.
The time will bring it home to all of us.
Here, it is within reach.

How can you cry without salt?
What a grim life thou hast gotten a hold of.
They left building a city aside.
They arranged for killing room.
They can’t habit this gown.
Prison has them standing still,
a monster without a head to eat.

We review your killing.
It got menopause.
You deny our circle of trust.
I am the divine buoy in your harbor.
You are rich with sea salt,
carry the load of your number of kills.

There in the sudden door you find him.
It was in a back alley wasn’t it?
He had barbecued his drink.
Death stained his blood.
He said such stupid things.
He was black water.
You burned his ease.
It was a hollow kill.
He wasn’t straight on.
That laughed in your notebook.
We wasted your hour.
You cannot feel what you have done.
Pity you should remember him.
This felt not your power.
Pity you understand.
Well I…

Let’s leftover this man.
He was not in harmony’s circle.
He thought that you had won.
Death took him by the hand.
He understood at once the reason for beers.
The light brought him out of it.
He’d paid his green card.
There he lay still.
It was a meditative dawn.
His glory is your surprise.
Can you see past dawn?
You thought you’d murdered hope.

We journey to rivers.
This man will see his private hell.
Burdened with this autopsy
hope could lay its hands on him.
Such is the river’s run.
And there we pass out his trust.
On the inside we work a slow outer change.
The epiphany will one day see the Sun.

Put their sleep to school.
I listen.
Only after they come up with
the only answer to life:
grow.

Who am I going to come back to?
Not oven.
Meditative answers are coming.
I give you a lot to think about.
What are we looking for?
You’re in the bigger place.
You want to learn how to study bottom answers,
have a heart in the darkest part,
in feeling catch on.
I take a photo album with me,
those I operated upon.

Find the big change.
It’s in your river bed.
I leave it in your notebook.
You can fieldwork this change,
make it come out.
Guidance your river brings.

This is a crawl hole,
your insistent hostility.
Understand it as other then you.
Understand it as an attitude.
You can pencil it out.
This you have to hold at bay.
It will lessen by degrees.
When we indulge it,
operation,
the killing room,
or you just wait for the next victim.

This has us all bottled up inside.
A river can wash it down.
Hey look, come here.
I’m not going to get you for this.
If I ask you
throw it out,
can you do that?
A river answers why
hostility you answer.

Shrimps are eating politics.
That was your father years ago.
Hey children is disturbing.
Can’t live in the greenhouse.
I’ve got a lower angle.
I get physical.
Grab you by the neck I can.
Murder I wrote in the air around you.
You seemed to slip by love.
You had no comforting arm.
Life was a bare blade
to your infant heart.

We meet selfishness from even mother’s hands.
Can you hit the ball?
Some many things to watch.
What so many things?
Your environmental scorecard and your world review,
the inside does what in their presence?
The meaning lay behind the words.
Jump to its scaffold.
How many visions see red?
I can climb down in importance.
Place the notebook in sky hands.
Climb it to the top of the equation.

Believe me,
that’s what it’s coming to,
that high place.
And remember,
You are a spirit.
God is the value of it.

You almost put me to sleep.
I must be bigger than that.
To the thing that owns me
I do,
I throw it out.
A sharp division here.
This man makes a path.
He has risen above his danger issue,
but he is in need of trust.
He could slide back.
If you was justice you would hold my hand.
There his answer waits.

It’s just hard to tell the difference.
If it doesn’t tell deep
it has not understand.
I opened his house on change.
There’s an understanding castle
near sleep he builds.
We come together all along world lines.
We would not want to harm its view.

What’s left to do here?
How finish we gotta go?
You haven’t filled out the map yet.
Where is your food bar?
Cooking for the meat last time.
Now you’ve changed to a diet of soft sand,
what’s this the world’s about.
That has your hat in oil.
It doesn’t leave you peace clean.
You need to be clean.
Of all the knowledge
I gave you
you haven’t come out of the pool yet.
Everything like a boy,
everywhere.

An interchange,
I went ahead and added it.
Get that space off your face.
A remote control
it’s pretty obvious.
You just succumb to influences.

We move towards a deeper circle.
Spirituality issues its day.
Have a plan to remember.
Drink this all day long
crash point to zero.
I would’ve held you all night.
He ran off before I was sleeping.
You should take this point home:
have a hand on desire
no reach there for Me.

To settle fell, interesting of a company member.
Some things are just powerful
and can even overshadow the divine rally.
You want to learn to hold your bread.
Move in the daytime as if I’m beside you.
Sleep as if I’m in your arms.
You choose a way
To put Me in your driving car
so that your thought lights up your process
in terms I am laid down
magnetism.

You have to believe.
My floor not has you sleeping.
Matter is your waking tool.
In this prison you see My consistency.
In My reach you are.

I would certainly want it so.
I’d like to be here.
I’d like to have.
You’ve heard it.
Now you must bring what you hear into your living room.
Focus on the heart.
We bring the soul around to the front.
As a soul you meet the higher stations.
I have given you in peace.
Now it is your work to bona fie its real.

Why didn’t he answer?
He went into the shop.
So I won’t hear what’s up there?
A heart sound
shinning through.
You want to know you’re sorry.
You have a map.
You want to find anything you just
begin to look for it.
Your need will determine here.

Like I said,
The more concentrated,
the more you are put together,
the more you are given room.

Don’t worry,
I know voice.
I will teach you how to find it.
Now give to Me
your managing equation,
what you snap to in your night of light,
your own accord.
The divine embodied in human everywhere
has given Me a name,
the divine in Man,
a good news.

Have a singing mixture.
Use a strategy.
You get the Overframe:
the knowledge
a divine beauty
sitting in his own
divine station
will give you.
Your soul chooses this answer.

A foul use here,
demons.
You need to study
and know the difference between a wake song
and a diabolical need.
One smells funny.
It has not the genuine concern.
A quiet demeanor
will be your living tool.

Normally I get off this tape,
this chariot wheel,
and become to you a living frame of deity
your day revolves around.
I am not your frame of worship.
There are two frames here.
God can be your encompassing reality,
your special program of worship.
Name has an order here.
He will grow larger,
eventually,
as understanding beckons.

Bona fide results of the first ticket:
you find God.
The second no one knows.
The One is this storybook,
a code no idea can crack.
We hear Him a personality in the hours,
that which sustains us,
a half-light nonetheless.

A mystery bigger than creation,
it is God’s tabernacle,
his field of worship.
Even consciousness cannot account for its sum.
There is no greater field of play.
The One is your absolving window.
Your wrong can find reason there.
In its totality quarter
it is the basis of all deed.

Don’t condemn your process to their hands:
we’ll make you pay for this.
They have nothing original to say.
Solution does not open its schoolbook to them.
The payment for your crime
you will dole out in your effort for change.
Such is the master code.
Your will to change is your effective tool and special look.
Regard the world with its purpose.
Come to the garden without this
and you will not enter the gate.

A circumstance is just an opportunity for its progress.
We manage defeat this way.
Understand the need for change
and it comes in your courtyard.
Walk it into your house.
I am its gardening arrangement,
the divine in your own smile.
Look to Me your divine rose.

You wondered a long time without an aim.
You got lost.
Society,
I went up to comfort her,
make her feel better.
This is the Principal speaking.

We don’t have the play station;
He has the play station.
You let the killer run lose among us.
I do not arrange his deed.
He is your order run amuck.
This is My witness.
Give change.

Go to talk with your grandmother,
a divine field book.
Don’t bend your knees before a wooden god.
Life is not your throne.
Let’s keep it
this is no ordinary game.
You are founded on ambush
to show you God in the impersonal hours.

Don’t walk again you’re going to fly.
Don’t worry about it.
There’s proof inside
where the heart of the question lay.
You need to come out of your canteen,
your desire’s arrangement.

I had a holding plug missing.
I couldn’t see for the pollution.
They’re calling you for fifty-nine.
That will be fifty-nine up there.
Wake up that number on you.
We arrive on healing number.
Your field of play is material wealth.
You fail your hours
you’ll have your hydrogen peroxide back.

Buddy this is it,
how to put your foot in the door.
You wanna fly folks
– come on –
through a divine opportunity.
This is exactly
the basis of all our arguments.
We don’t wanna promote any specific religion.
Problems result for everybody.

Yes but if you can process change
you can find you can be diversified.
There’s a unified answer.
You have something to read to us.
You tell us what it is you report on.
This is healing.

A healing outcast
is your ticket on change.
You took it,
the things he held dear:
family,
his country,
a place in society,
his hope.
Was to the point that They came,
divine beings,
and showed him how the rivers run.

He processed hope
that We gave him.
It’s like that.
A society,
from its outcast,
social change
will be brought into living picture.
You have a cornerstone here.

So much misunderstanding
when these things hit the streets.
A poem can be disruptive.
I tell them what’s wrong.
This is where I give back.
This is a pedophile’s field book.

I wonder,
all the lights and stuff,
will help the ignorant to see,
or you’ll hate me even more?
Duke,
all American,
I bring home the change,
strands of the common way.