Category: Poetry

Listen to Your Neighbor

On By Donny Lee DukeIn PoetryLeave a comment
Noah Pozner, 6, photo taken on Nov. 13, 2012 and provided by the family via The Washington Post
It’s a helicopter.
The issues are hands.
Listen to these.
It’s in the papers now:
how do we gather our children
and they’re all around us dead?

I see the faces now,
captured on camera
of a parent’s woe. 
A little first grader,
I gave him a bath in the sink.
He was so little.
My God he was adorable.
I washed him clean.
The towel had so much laughter on it,
and I held my little boy dry to sleep.

What a memory gun,
someone took it and cut me up with it.
Alex Jones bled conspiracy.
Oh they love their guns.
Gets children murdered,
and slaps us with their memory.
Is this right?

Oh I love you momma.
Close the door you silly thing,
and go to school.
I love you too falls on my lips
every time I turn around.
Did I tell you that my sweet little boy?
Good God it hurts.

The world was smashed in my mirror.
I don’t trust it now.
It’s got sinister eyes.
I pound my head against the wall.
I don’t know how to fight this.
I don’t know what to do.
The tears still come so easily.
Can you see me son?
Will you be with me again?

This is terrible live action.
We call it Sandy Hook.
It will never end.
That hook rends my heart,
but it’s made of sand and I cannot grasp it out.
Oh the meaning in names.
Have you ever looked at that?

Yes, yes there’s a conspiracy,
in the very ground of reality itself.
I don’t know what’s going on.
This is just too much for me.
They love their guns more than murdered children.
I don’t understand this game.
Can we get at reality,
and put it in front of our faces,
so we see what’s going on?

Does this all have to be about your rights?
Look, Sandy Hook happened.
I was there—
and this is humanity please;
my heart was shot that day.
Can you tell a parent in a room their child didn’t die,
and that room is their child’s,
and all the dead child’s things stare back at them,
and they feel like killing themselves?
Would you feel that?

I would like to show you something.
It’s a horror show.
The worst reality in the world
opened fire on our children,
a little bit of hell in the room.
Can you feel their fear,
their fright?
Can hear their cries,
their oh my God their screams?
Can you hold their hand?
That’s what we’re here for.
Can you?

I want you to be there
in your mind’s eye,
in your heart’s chamber,
when you salute our flag.
Oh I’m not asking this every time,
just enough to matter,
just enough for a better America,
where we’ll be safe again
from a defeated imagination
that sees a conspiracy behind every bush
that get us all to hate.

Oh special interests groups I’m sorry,
you’re just special interest groups.
Love America, you know?
And that’s not a flag,
a founding father,
this political party or that.
It’s not even a revolution.
It’s us you and me,
Americans.

You heard the Sandy Hook massacre.
Whatever.
At the flywheel
of another one's comin',
and everybody knows that for sure.
What can we do?

I can stick out hate
and identify the root of the problem,
the hate that's out there mixin' with everybody,
and who would believe me?
Who would even see its massive spread among us
in every room in humanity?

This is my business,
takin' your hatred and showin' it to yah.
You hate me more than serial killers.
In America no one is hated more.
Jesus Christ, the pedophile.
Now on earth hello.

Can We Find Forgiveness?

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

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In Everything You Do

On By Donny Lee DukeIn applied nonduality, Poetry, scientific materialism, supermindLeave a comment
photo by Nitish

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

On By Donny Lee DukeIn childhood education, ego activism, Poetry, video artLeave a comment

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

On By Donny Lee DukeIn childhood education, Inner Voice and Vision, PoetryLeave a comment

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

On By Donny Lee DukeIn applied nonduality, collective consciousness, PoetryLeave a comment
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

On By Donny Lee DukeIn Poetry1 Comment
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

On By Donny Lee DukeIn Dreams, Poetry, soul healingLeave a comment

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

On By Donny Lee DukeIn black and white photography, film photography, Inner Voice and Vision, overhead poetry, Poetry, spoken word poetryLeave a comment

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?

On By Donny Lee DukeIn Dreams, Inner Voice and Vision, overhead poetry, Poetry, scientific materialism, video artLeave a comment

 

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.