In this poem, written from inner spiritual vision, meaning the lines were spoken to him on the inside, one by one, and I recorded them for him on my voice recorder where I record my own muse, Nithish is speaking to his future self, giving himself help about a tragedy that came to pass on March 12th, when he was taken from me. We’re not allowed visits, phone calls, and no one can give him my messages. They took him because they got mad at me. He’s had a negative personality change, and his spiritual vision has been replaced by nightmares.
Like dream, spiritual vision has vision of the future, and this poem will bear that out if you take the time to listen to it. As art and poetry, it will take more than one viewing to understand in its complexity, where, in each frame, there are layers of meaning, what is happening in the video itself, entertaining enough, and the poem superimposed on that, with occasional visions the boy had while the lines were spoken to him being presented in a ticker tape fashion at the bottom of the screen.
It’s actually a miracle and is a real example of soul healing, in this case his soul speaking to him now from the past. The video is now being viewed by the boy and those around him (or will be shortly), including his parents, and the divine muse of poetry, having knowledge of the future, knew when the video would be made and posted, at just the right time in the ‘death’ of the boy to bring him back to life, soul, and God.
“The Samadhi of the Gods is in my heart” means his spirituality is forbidden. His parents scorn his poetry, and he can’t follow the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. “I don’t like biryani I like burger.” He likes things American, which his parents don’t like. “I ask where is my dog,” his Beagle puppy, Grace, who he lost too. He lost all his dogs.
“Look back and you’ll get out” means that if he remembers what it was like living with me, looks back on those times, he’ll get out of school, school here meaning the school he is at home, school being a symbol for a child’s life lessons, whether they take place at home or at the institution of school. The whole poem is so he will remember what he’s forgotten under his parents’ intense psychological manipulation, where he lost himself. In this poem, which he wrote from his past to his future self, he’s trying to get his ‘dead’ self to see he needs to see who he really is.
“Bamboo sticks they use it to beat children in the school / and they use it to make sugar in the factory.” School is a symbol where he learns his lessons in life, both at home and school as an institution, as I’ve explained above. “Well, next time bad spirits of school Nazis,” meaning the extreme control his parents have used in this present situation, not the first abusive situation he’s been in with them, to get him to stop wanting me.
”Why is ice on fire on earth?” Our relationship has been put on ice but is aflame. “Gutter door is open. / Play along for awhile.” He did what his parents wanted and told people what they told him to say, “I’m okay with it,” but they can’t get him to tell me that. “Hold onto them with your breath, / knowers or brewers. / Mr. NoMore is out of town. He’s still holding onto to me, but his parents are telling him I’m a beggar, and I only want him to take care of me in my old age, and of course I’m Mr. NoMore.
The last lines mean that I recorded it all in my own muse and predicts that his story of childhood trauma will make a big difference in the world. The rap at the end, also muse and prevision, is a short synopsis of the bad situation he fell into when his parents took him from me. At that time he was listening to BoyWithUke.
Social consciousness we’re exploring here. This little boy’s showing it to you in the society he has with me. You don’t believe that we we share consciousness with each other. Here’s a poem that will show not only that, but that you can talk to your future self about that society you live in. An 11-yr-old boy wrote this, with an incredibly superior opening of the inner consciousness, magnetic, the very thing that you need to see so we can survive on this planet. In a spiritual emergency, you can write a poem in the inner consciousness to your future self, as this boy has done. He’s important to the world. You can count on one hand the number of kids that can do this in all the world.
Do you want this dead in him? It is right now. His parents have killed it. You’d call me a dirty old man because I want to see him so insistently, but your stereotype is wrong. I opened this boy’s consciousness, and we openly share consciousness together. We can prove this miracle. This is not the only poem of ours that shows it, because in poetry writing, in union with me he does it, and to have been torn asunder like this has caused our very souls to reach out for one another, and what else in him could have written this poem but his soul. Social consciousness, the first example.
Edge of the Game (Written October 2023)
Samadhi of the Gods is in my heart water drops. Like any other kid’s life my life is complicated. I don’t praise my parents I praise the Mother. Hot Wheels on the road, Boss Baby here.
Hah, I’m athlete, don’t fight me. Sticker bushes in the sky, clouds in the ground, study abroad or study up rod, my life is not stolen it’s in the safe. Don’t you laugh at me for a little blah blah.
I’m like a marshmallow. Can I really look handsome? Sinkin’ through space, Gandhi said you are a race. [two above lines heard sung] I don’t like biryani I like burger. I don’t vote Modi but I very much do hear melody. Garage of the forage, call me Mr. Poppins.
(I have a vision of laying wounded in a bedroom in a white bed. The Mother and Sri Aurobindo are near me and start meditating when I wake up, and I start meditating with them. When I start meditating with them, they give me a power stroke to say what’s going on, like by the power, like I know everything. I was told I could talk to them anytime I wanted, but I have to snap into my supermental body because my physical body is here on earth but my supermental body is with them. Then I ask the Mother for a poem to get out of school, and she says the line below) Look back and you’ll get out.
I’m thinking about leaving. The ancient realm is alive. Fate decides you, (vision of General Iroh telling me the above line in a Fire Nation ship in a vision) what kind of man you become. Rebuild the evolving species, hashtag flying away.
Earn money for doomsday, it’s in the eight sector. Betrayal is not good for God. Organize the pieces you’ll see what I’m talking about.
Dive deep under the water without a swimsuit you’ll see the glowin’ star. I see my dogs in the garden with the Mother and Sri Aurobindo.
I’m a part of the lily pond. Everything is reversed here. Pepsi or Coke a Cola I don’t know. Pepsi not for sure. It’s pizza time at the lake.
I shaved air. I’m a hill climber. Peacocks look at me weird. Do they see the shining sun? They have the magical eye. It’s easy for them to see me. I’m in the wild with them. I ask where is my dog. In the jungle I say. Why can’t it be in the plains, can’t it be in the house, can’t it be in the water, can’t it be in the hills, can’t it be in the hill climbers?
Sure do hill climbers climb that mountain. Well, I’ll fly to that mountain. I have the God’s eye. Maybe I can see the angel on top of you, because behind me it’s an organization assembled by the Gods and the God Himself.
School is such a pain in the ass. That’s where I get my boils from. School doesn’t pop it. My house pops it. Bamboo sticks they use it to beat children in the school and they use it to make sugar in the factory. Well you sure are making a way for the demons. Show me the certificate if you’re gonna hit a child. I’m going to God to talk about this. Well, next time bad spirits of school Nazis.
Please don’t hit my kind. You’re all a unified mind. Rhythm is not for music it’s for poets. I sure do use a lot. Why is ice on fire in Earth? It’s sure not like that in the spirit realm. I’ve visited that place.
Walk with honor. The ball’s in your court. Lay down the law. It’s not an opinion. It’s the whole world. Free angels in your mind. I’ve stopped drinking coffee, but I’ve moved on. It’s one or another. Soon he’s gonna get married. Everyone should learn to smile.
Gutter door is open. Play along for awhile. Treat yourself. Spirits go away. Hold onto them with your breath, knowers or brewers. Mr. NoMore is out of town.
Lily ponds are as beautiful as our inner. Record my fame for history. Business talks are not for me. Boy of the Northern Kingdom is about to wake up the whole world.
I fell out of my place for nothing to eat for I hit the ground sooo hard it hurt my life a little too far I cannot take it. I cannot carve through this mountain of lives. I am not so fine. The trauma I experienced in childhood I can blame it all on school, school, school, school, school. school. I am not a rapper. I’m a taper. I tape my life. The wounds can heal. My muscles can grow. My life can be a Christmas gift.
Get her to speak with me. Ger her to understand her fear of losing Nithish makes her abuse Nithish. She says she’s stopped beating him? It’s not a conscious choice she makes. She gets angry and loses control of herself and beats him. It’s her character. He will tell that.
Now, about abuse: she will not let him see me, even for a short visit, so to abuse him for preferring me over her. Yes momma I’m happy with you. What he’s really saying: yes momma I’m scared of you. Why won’t he mention daddy? Why won’t he fight for the right to see daddy?
I cannot speak of him in front of you, and I’m on his side. You don’t understand I cannot speak. The fear of you is so big inside, the fear of you mother, who has beat me, slapped me, brainwashed me for these past two months, so much so I cannot even speak, physically cannot speak, on daddy’s side in front of you. I am too scared of you.
Now Sandiya is this my muse talking or is this Nithish? Are you hiding from yourself the truth? Nithish loves you but prefers to be with me. Nithish is happy with me. He is not very happy with you. Nithish wants to live with me and visit you. These things are facts in that boy’s mind and heart, and stop lying to yourself about it. He feels that way.
When you make him speak against his will, you smother his identity and abuse him. Abuse is more than the hit of a hand or the handle of a genital. It’s forcing that child to do things against his will. It’s suppressing him own identity. It’s not letting him be who he is. It’s making him be who you want him to be. You are so self-satisfied, so sure you have his loyalty, but when you kept him from even greeting me, after two months of such emotional torment, his and mine, you crossed the line. He will tell on you now. Wait and see.
But why does it have to come to that? Can you just put a stop to your hate and desire for revenge? Can you consider the welfare of your child more than you needing your child? Can you do what’s best for Nithish? You know that is seeing and being with me. It doesn’t mean he’s not with you. It just means your fantasy that he’s your baby is not true. He’s his own self and is too big to be someone’s baby. I am a man, and at his age, he identifies with more with males.
His father has been a weekend dad all his life. I have been with that boy hundreds of days more than his father, and whatever you say about the boys I’ve raised, Sundar is a murderer. He has killed at least four people my advocate told me. What a role model for Nithish, and now he’s using his gang to threaten Asiya, to beat him up or even kill him, and you yourself Sandiya are giving that threat. What business is this for good parents? That is evil and you know it. Asiya did not hurt you, did not give you heart pain or grief, only helped me to ease mine, to do the right thing and help Nithish and I see each other, and you know that is good and proper in God’s eyes.
Can I show you a hidden example? A mutual friend Sudhan, you gave him a story to give to me. Call up daddy. Tell him you went in my house for a drink of water. Nithish was there alone. Tell him you asked Nithish about daddy. Nithish said I only love my mother, and I don’t care about anything else, a blatant big lie, a spinning web of psychological manipulation. Now Sudhan told me you had him do this to me. Imagine what you are doing to Nithish. This is just one example. When this is over, people will come forward with more. You’re being evil Sandiya, just evil.
You are willfully being bad, as bad as you can to me, for reasons I don’t clearly understand. You would kill me if you could get away with it. That’s how much you hate me. Is it at bottom really because Nithish prefers me to you? Is that the reason for all this hate?
Now pull him up on the carpet. Ask him to reassure you again how much he loves you. How many times have you done that? Do you chose me over daddy, do you chose me over daddy, do you chose me over daddy? He’s very afraid of you. He will tell you whatever you want to hear, because he’s scared of you, not because he loves you. You say if he spent time with me away from you he would change his mind. What does that mean? He would realize how he truly feels, and you are scared of that? You are not secure in his loyalty to you, are you?
In the eyes of God, please, allow Nithish and I to see each other without your interference, just for a short time the first time. Then we can go from there, and we can make peace again in our family for the children’s sake. It’s up to you Sandiya. It’s your decision. You hold the power for now. Will you do what’s right?
Hear a dog’s life. We question Nithish. He’s on the short end of the stick at home, the author of all these Facebook problems. He’s in trouble. He suffers so much for loving me. His mother ruins him for it. What can I do but cry?
Okay I have the strength of poetry, and I’m using it for Nithish. You think I’m stupid, a fool, just some crazy old man? I love my boy, and if it comes to that I will lay down my life for him to get him the help he needs.
He’s lost so much weight. He looks hollow and empty inside by the look on his face. I hear his behavior is erratic. He’s volatile and tells lots of lies. He’s not sure of himself. A personality change has occurred since he was taken from my home a happy and plump little boy. The mother is ignoring this, his state, his rapid deterioration.
To anyone that confronts her about letting the boy see me, she’s flies off the handle and screams at them to stay out of it, even to close relatives. That’s the mother he has. Now that’s Sandiya. Can you please help?
What happened at your advocate's office? He was threatened, when you came alive he was threatened. He had to obey his mother. Is that the real card? You thwarted her. You put yourself there not the mission. It was all your fault, never mind her cruelty.
Why do you allow her that? Why does she have all the power? You’re not being fair, and it has never changed, and I got no help there. So blame it on me, but You could’ve helped. You could’ve done something.
Why die? Because I’m lost him, and I cannot live without him, and it’s the betrayal of the universe, the betrayal of God. There’s a spider there. She believes it, does not see how inhuman she has become.
To not even allow you to embrace after all that pain, two solid months of grief? She kept him behind her and even put her hand over his face so you could not see each other when he tried to look at you from behind her. No one will show her cruelty to her. We just want you to feel certain effects, and We allow this.
Yesterday was your tragic happening, and you did that tragically. The list’s off the end. I know to pleasure that, so I know I’ve done the right thing. There is no possibility. There is no possibility. There is no possibility. He’s deleted everything except the system delete. Go in the freezer please.
Open your account. You’re a fish. You’ve got to give maybe. He needs your care and attention. This number’s strong. Please try later.
This is the stage of real power. This is the lonely winter stage. It’s about who’s going to the stationary shop and buying him metals and honor. I can do that. No, no, my hair’s growing. Lydia will fight me for it. I’m not concerned with that. I’m concerned with your future.
People this is imaginary pool. He hasn’t told me these things in the outer world. I look at him in spiritual vision, and I hear him tell me things. Lydia I think you’ve punished him for that. You have a primitive mindset, all of you, and you don’t understand the power of poetry. I have restored everything to show you. These poems here might be valued long after you are gone.
What that boy is is a poet, to a degree that most childs aren’t. Here is a poem that speaks of the future. It’s talking directly about Sandiya taking Nithish from me, and the way that we find peace from that, how to do it. It is written in poetic symbols. You will only recognize the last line as him talking about what’s going on today.
Read this poem and tell me he has no future here; this is the stupid babbling of a child; this does not show that he has any talent whatsoever; this is just a piece of garbage.
The argument I am having with his mother and father is over his future. I can give him American citizenship, a U.S. passport to travel the world, a university education in America if he so choose. I will not shove school down his throat.
I also give to him the status of a poet, not his future self, the child Nithish today. What is a poet? A person all honor and hold in high esteem. They write the culture and give it direction and meaning. They hold out their hand and presidents and prime ministers kiss it. They are the special meaning the world awaits with honor.
I give that to Nithish. His parents can’t. They are concerned with possession, rules, and school. I have his department. I not only know what he wants. I can give it to him. They know now he loves me, wants to be with me and has this whole time. They punish him and punish him now simply because he loves me. That is not fair. That is not right, and I’m sorry you have to see this, two parents doing this to their child, from waves of jealousy and hatred of the foreigner. Here I am, and here is his poem take us to the future.
Paradise Things With Lyrics by S. Nithish
Reach for peace, but it’s a long jump away. It’s One stairs. Butterflies are our airplanes. They’re peaceful and calm. They can fly us to space. From there we need to walk.
There’s a place for everybody in the world. I did two steps: let the Light be the guide; my place is out of this world. We all have something that we should pass on. I do not have a turnoff button.
The ancient minds were better. They left out clues for us. They left out clues around the world. We should always say thanks. Stars were meant to be together.
This is an audio recording of a telephone conversation between Nithish and I on April 20th, where he’s had to sneak to call me, where discovery is near, and we both are very upset and frustrated. Please pardon us, we are doing the best that we can.
Central to understanding the poem below is not only the above recording, but also a recorded telephone conversation in Tamil between the parents, Nithish, and my oldest (unofficially adopted) son, who’s 30. In the conversation Nithish is made to speak against his will. He’s frightened and not himself. We had gotten a local police station to do a meditation with the mother. She came, and my advocate, my grown son, two cops, and I had a very intense discussion with her, and after we left, she brought Nithish and had him tell the cops that if he saw me on the street he would not speak to me, and that he did not want to visit his former home here at the lake.
They did not speak to him away from his mother as they told us they would do, and we were not told of any other questions that they asked him, as it’s obvious he did not just sit down and tell them that. I’ve discovered that they began by asking him if he loved me, and he said yes, and if he were happy with me, and he said yes, and if I ‘bothered’ him, and he said I did not sexually abuse him, knowing what the cop meant. I cannot tell you how I know he was also asked these things, but I know he was.
Then, in the phone conversation I’m describing, which took place last night at midnight, he was made to say he was happy with his mother and did not ever want to see me again, and that her taking him out late at night to allow him to drive the bike and buy him ice cream the first few nights after he was taking from my house was what he asked her to do, even though she never did this with him before taking him from me, not one single time. Lydia, his auntie, his mother’s sister, had told me she did this immediately after taking him from me, and she asked her sister what she was doing, and the mother replied he felt bad, and she was making him feel better.
The other day, I found out it was because he was crying for me, and I told Lydia this the day before the phone conversation I’m describing. She obviously told Sandiya, and so Sandiya is trying to cover that base too. That his mother is even having him saying this just shows how sick she is being with her son. In all he says on the phone, which is less than a minute in the conversation, it’s obvious he’s being forced to say it and doesn’t want to. Even if you don’t know Tamil, when you hear the kid speak, you know he’s being made to lie. I give you this background so you can understand the poem below and the tragic position the boy is now in.
Douglas, I’m flatten for a reason. I have evidence I need daddy. Something’s wrong with me only he can fix. Please daddy believe me. You’re accused in the yard. Come back to me now in front of your parents or else this may not end well.
Where do we put Lydia? In the phone conversation, and don’t trust Lydia. Bad talking to her. Trust Nithish on the phone. That’s his real voice, when he’s speaking to me in a private conversation, not the prompted speech. Going to the station, did Nithish make a complaint against me? They didn’t explain any class action suit. It doesn’t surprise me. It’s not gonna court. He loves me, and that’s not what they wanna hear.
All this money, who raped him? Who raped him? A voice recording you mentioned in class and the muse in a poem. That’s prompted all this drama. Tell me, what did Nithish say? They’re not stupid. They can get in trouble. They can get in trouble for mentioning things. There’s scared of what he said, Nithish.
When I’m on the phone with him, it wasn’t to take him to a liquor store. He’s giving me plans on how to get him out of there, out from under the control of his parents, who’ve done devious things to him. I tell him my plans, and we renew our bond, so glad to hear each other’s voice. What’s the Mr. Mystery here? That the boy calls me at all. His parents don’t want to believe that, but of course they know it’s true. What does it mean to them? They are forcing him to say things against his will in anything concerning me. He is afraid to tell them his true feelings because he’s terrified at what they might do to him. Can we get an arraignment here?
I was called last night and given a voice recording of Sandiya and Sundar forcing the boy to tell lies that he knows are lies. I’ve been raising him since he was a small boy. Our relationship grew into that, but they made him say they let him live with me solely for the sake of school, that I would facilitate that.
And other thing, my advocate, Douglas, Mithun, Nithish, Sandiya, Sundar, and I, sat down here at the lake and had a talk near on seven months ago. We wanted him here during the week, with his parents on the weekends, and we wanted to home school him. I mentioned to his mother death threats and abuse that had been going on, that she and Sundar had been doing to Nithish. She immediately capitulated and said the schedule would go back to him with me during the week, and with them on the weekends, but not home school him.
On the phone the boy was made to say he spent the weekdays with me solely to help him prepare for his final exams. These people are grasping for straws, change their story every time you turn around. Sandiya was saying, before this, she took Nithish from me because I took him out of school, because I had turned him against school, because I was a bad influence on him in regards to school, and I kept brainwashing him that he had dyslexia. What happened to that story?
Sandiya and Sundar you are a piece of cake. You’re not intelligent enough to muster a good defense for taking Nithish from me. We go back to a child sex video the mother had made of her son Mithrin, three. It was all in fun she said, play, no sexual intentions behind it, although it’s child porn on any scale you look at, explicit child porn. What do you do with that?
In a conversation with the mother and my advocate, I didn’t want the scheduled changed, and Nithish comes to me only one day a week. I do not trust those parents. I do not think they’re good parents, but I was not keeping Nithish from them. I wanted the schedule to remain the way it was. I had him four days. They had him three. I had him on the weekdays. They had him on the weekends. In the conversation I mentioned the video, did not say one word about it except Nithish had given it to me and had told me about his father doing the nature of the video with his little brothers. I wanted to point out that’s bad parenting. I wanted to say I didn’t want Nithish exposed to that, but I did not get the chance to speak. On mentioning the video, and her realizing what I was mentioning, she began screaming “Get out of my house! Get out of my family!” And she would take Nithish from me, which she did at my house on the farm about 45 minutes later. That was the reason she took ‘im. She thinks I was blackmailing her. We have her recorded in phone conversations saying that over and over. Now what do you do with that? You call a spade a spade.
Listen to me Sandiya and Sundar, I’m going to protect that boy. Your lies, your subterfuge, will not get in the way. You are not good to him. You are not good for him. He was publicly humiliated in his chair, and life, the feeling of life, you took from him. He is on the verge of a mental breakdown. You have split him in two. His one person with me and another person with you. You’re too primitive to realize that.
Now here’s the cat in the hat. I’ve been with that boy most of his life, and he has loved me dearly. That’s been public view. Oh amma and appa I never wanna see him again, what does it sound like? Brainwashing. Oh amma and appa of course I want to see him. I just wanna live with you and just see him sometimes, but I have loved this man for so many years. Of course I’d like to see him. Do you see the Hitler here, the Nazi brainwashing technique? Never wanna see me again? That’s not normal, after such a close bond for so many years.
Can I introduce you to parental alienation in this classic brainwashing technique? The parents are just being primitive, cavemanish. They don’t know they fill a type. This is happening all over the globe to children everywhere, parental alienation, Nazi in its underpinnings. Now here you can see it plain as day. What are you gonna do about it? Put a like at my machine? We need some real help. but first we need you to see this little boy’s in big trouble, psychologically, can’t you see?
I love you Nithish. We need to reach peace, and it’s been a long jump away. The message is You have so show your parents you love me and want to see me. There is no other way. The divine will not help until you do. You have to be bigger than your parents. You have to come out of primitive humanity. You are in the world to make a difference in the world, not to enjoy nice food and pleasures, like they’re the reason you live. You’re in a tomb Nithish, and you need to come back from the dead. You need to confront yourself. You need to be Nithish, unified and singular, the boy that you are, not a boy with two personalities you have been in this custody dispute. That’s dangerous.
That’s psychological trauma. I do not want to get you in trouble, but you have to be yourself Nithish, and I give the recording for that. Don’t blind it. It’s a zombie test. Your witness. Admit I mean something to you, and I’m an important person in your life. Stop lying about that because you’re scared of your parents. You are dangerously close to big mental problems. I’m the one who heals you Nithish, but you know that don’t you? And that’s why you’re reachin’ out. Now we can all stand erect when that trauma’s been put out. Do you get me baby dog? That’s the unit no strings attached, a true healing measure. You’ve got your record.
Dreams of a lifetime are not in your corner now Nithish. They have been removed from your seeing by your parents’ insistence on me being taken completely out of your life. I put the video for that reason, for your future Nithish. The advocacy is there. No, no I’m sorry, you asked me to put a man there to help you get out of there. He’s here my baby dog. Let’s listen to him. He’ll be there in a few minutes.
You can see the permission I get. Sandiya, Lydia, what rendezvous point? I have punishment for them. No they will not be beat with a stick. They will hear what they have done to your life. A doctor will tell them. There were three of us together. It’s me, you, and Douglas. Help me. Just a minute I’m pointing my post. I am not some stupid rule book out to get you. How’s he blues it? You may never talk to me again. You may renounce me. You may hate me, but love makes sacrifices, and I’m sacrificing for you Nithish.
You, me, and Douglas were a team. Can we go to America together? You think about that before you hate me forever more. I’m writing your best interests not mine. That’s what parents do. They give their children their life, even if it hurts them, even if they may never see their child again because of it. That’s parental love Nithish, and it’s where I find you in this poem.
You need help Nithish, and I’m showin’ people you need that in a love poem to you. Psychological damage, does anybody deny it? I love you so very much Nithish, even more than seeing you. I am only crying right now. What more can I say? I have hurt myself so much posting this poem. Would you please look my way?
Daddy’s afraid of Nithish. I grew up with this statement. I see the father in him wanting me to be safe at all costs, even where he loses me. Oh daddy I understand. Don’t be afraid. My parents have not killed my love for you, and they never will. I love you daddy. I wanna see you again.
It was a simple record come open when you know your child’s in danger. I’ve stood up for him. I’ve laid down my life. Is that parental love? No one will grant me that because I’m a foreigner and I love boys, what that used to mean before it was tainted. I gather you in the right way. I’m not a fiend, a monster, a smuck. I’m not an abuser of boys. That life has changed.
I love him in the meaning of that word, and there is no difference than the love God has for you and the love I have for this boy. Oh my God, the sacrifice of love.
I’m a helmet for him to protect him from this abuse, this psychological trauma that everyone’s ignoring that’s happening. I give you my all. I show you everything. I do not hold back. Will you please help my boy?
I’m alone with Luna, her dog paws on my shoulder. This girl has watched over me the whole time. I’ve scared her so many times. My crying at night has made her feel the safety of hell. She licks me in my face if I am sobbing, lays her whole body against me, if the night is really bad, and do you know how that feels? That girl’s in love.
I can’t tell you the love of a dog. We’re cheated by the form. There’s an angel there, looking over their beloved child-man, their heart wrapped around the divine moon. You don’t know dogs, even if you have one. They get in there with you, closer in life than your children can, and they dream with you, and you have no idea how real on Earth this is. Oh she has been in my dreams, her and silly Bruno, watching over me, making sure they’re there, whatever happens.
Can you count this? Can I even show it to you? Rottweilers in love, a thing on the mountain, holding her master close, holding her master safe. The Gods see her and call her name. This is true love, and no one can match it, not even my boy, but it’s not returned to the measure she gives, and that’s the gift of dogs: they will love you even knowing their dog doesn’t get the count of human. You will see him soon Luna.
Oh she misses you so Nithish. You were her little boy. Their play would fill the night sky, lickings and squealings of laughter, playful growls and sudden swoons. Oh when you were taken by force from my house, for days she waited by the front door for your return. That dog carried your sadness for longer than dogs do, and I am sure, if we could see them, she’s been in your dreams too.
Oh why all this pain on Earth for us? It’s unbelievable. It’s real, and it was given for nothing more than for a little boy preferring his grandfather over his parents, all this hell unleashed on the heart of this little child, our dogs, and upon me. Will you please speak up and grant these parents the reckoning they’ve called for? Oh Luna, this is the pilot moon. This is the pilot poem, and I’m going to the moon in God’s love.
I will answer you tomorrow, when we have our day in court, with the testimony I’ve prepared, and what has been your art? That boy belongs to us by virtue of his birth. We don’t care what he needs. We don’t care what he wants. We want him all for ourselves, never mind the pain, never mind the torment that we have given our son to make him comply to our will. We have no heart in this matter. We only have our selfish desire to possess this boy, and why do we say that? So he can go to school on our terms and forget the call to God.
Now we will word this differently. We’ve been coached by our betters. But they have overlooked one thing, haven’t they Sandiya, Sundar? Your natural parental rights are not rights to abuse your child. Is that understanding? Is that clear enough? Take him from his grandfather because you fear he loves me more? All the pain you’ve given him, because of that? That’s punishment, because you don’t measure up to be good parents, and you’ve punished him for that.
I’m on the case a Nithish’s rights campaigner, and even if you kill me, or remove me from the land, behind that veil I will work, still continuing to free my little boy. No power on Earth can stop me, and only the Hostile Powers try. I’m a force of God’s will in his life and his soul’s expression for this lifetime. That’s why dear parents he has not forgotten me, you have not killed his love. God and soul arranged it. Do you hear that? You will in court.
You didn’t count on a speaker from divinity’s trees. You thought spirituality was a walk on hot coals in irons, but here it is I reveal the sweetness of the Spirit, and the certainty of its peace, now leading this boy to safety, out of his parents’ grasp. On wonderful, spirituality I walk the Earth. Are you aware of this Sandiya, Sundar? You don’t have a leg to stand on God’s ground. Do you hear God’s love?
What are you going to show that you are good parents, a video you let someone make of your toddler masturbating? That’s not good parenting, and it’s even against the law. Well, we’re here, right at the release of that video to the proper authorities. Yes you can face it as a family torn asunder, but that will be for the court to decide, when the judge is shown your film. And what will he say, Nithish belongs with you?
Have you gauged the strategy I have painstakingly laid out? I’m no stranger to danger. In 1983 with my Special Force A Team, I parachuted in Germany with an atom bomb. In 1995 in Old Jerusalem, on the top of Mt. Sinai, and inside the Great Pyramid in Egypt, I taped to walls and rocks and sarcophagi poems of love and human unity and redemption, the only way to heal human evil, full holistic love. Dangerous both actions were. I guarantee you I tried to change the world even then. Now you’re a little woman living in a little world, and you’re a man who’s murdered other men ‘cause your gang told you to.
Okay, God’s plan, would you be the people that carry that out? Out there in the audience, what would you say? You’ve been silent this whole time, except for a glimmer or two of hope for this boy. You say you love children, but you don’t. Racist and antagonistic, only children should obey their parents and go to school exam and all. Anything else is wrong for the child.
Okay India, can we see this on the world stage please, your manner with children? It’s here you need to work the most, not with rocket ships, airports and guns, Hindu society, excluding all passports but theirs. Changing your name, you can square one that out.
Okay India, I call you out. Bharat, India, the river of the Ganges, your children deserve better treatment than to be the property of their parents to abuse them or use them, and to have school shoved upon their lives, like is it the measure of them. Do you hear me India? You need to protect your children.
Bharat, or whoever you are, why doesn’t Modi sing this? Oh your parents reflect the mode of government: total control in the guise of I will help you there. Can’t you see this? You’re blind. Hindu is only your way to God, but you’ve made it your soul’s cage. One everybody, one is the nature of things. It is oneness not Hinduism really what Hindu means. Take your national election and say that. You wouldn’t vote BJP. I’m writing poems now, political, hear them? Take a scroll and paper now, and just print it out.
photo by Nithish
I’m in trouble. What balloon will show? Did you take candy from your little brother? No, my momma sat on her spoon. I can’t get help now. I’m being punished for you. You said some things. They worry. I’ve put them on hold, and I’m modestly arranging you now. They aren’t happy with it. They think I’m crazy. I think they’d like to kill me if they could. I hold all the monsters. I talked to you today, trying to listen, trying to sound. I don’t know the zeros. I don’t know the plans. It’s a weird bunch of consciousness my mind don’t know how to read. Are you listing to me? I’m giving you a message. I’d like to see your men arrive. Double click that. I’m scared of what you might bring. You might take down the whole house, but you might just come get me, and I give you my hand. Everybody’s so crazy around here. They’re all waiting for you to arrive. Can we see that sentence again please? I know there’s something going on with you, and you’ve scared my parents. They’re talking of killing you. What would I do to warn you? Easy phone calls make hard bread. I am so scared to call. You root around my day, calling for me to call you. I hear it in the sky. I see it in the trees. And would the river say that? I’m on calling you, and I try. This thing sticks in my mind, but the risk would just kill me if they found out. I’m sorry you’ll have to wait. May I have a minute? My little brother’s dead. He got caught handlin’ spoons. She rushed him to the hospital, pouring hot water over him. That was Varun. I’m not the only one who gets beat around here. No, it wasn’t his joystick. He grabbed somethin’ and run. I didn’t like the sound of him crying. Do you hear me when I speak? I talk to you a lot. I’m listenin’ for the muse. I don’t get it like I used to. I’m not the same boy that I was. Will you like me anymore? I’ve been crushed. I’m sorry to say that I have, and I’m not defendin’ myself. That’s what I don’t believe. Self-nature’s got a plan. They will hear my voice my parents, whether you’re there or not. Oh hurry daddy.
Sit down. This is system failure, what you do with your children that doesn’t put them first place, their minds, their bodies, their little wills. They have a voice you know, and you’re ignoring it. You don’t even listen to children. They are things to you to keep and care for and mold into your society. You possess them. They are yours. In India it’s abuse.
You don’t know what this does to a kid, to not let his identity speak out. It hurts him. It damages her. How can I show this to you? Their wills matter, their lifeline, their own personal destiny, apart from their parents, apart from everyone in the world but them. They are individuals, and that’s important. We’re losing the world that way, one damaged child at a time, who grows up to think the world is ruled by society, and the people there are its system keepers.
Who would dream to change the system, unless it’s towards more group think, more authority over our lives, more laws and greater punishments? We don’t go the other way. Even spirituality’s a drag here. It’s not liberalness I’m talking about. It’s a better society for all. Liberal ideas make plans. They’re not supposed to make everybody gay. I don’t think we know what liberal means. It’s not on the calendar today.
Can I show you my life’s worth come together with this boy? I’m afraid my poetry would rock the Earth, if you gave us permission to speak. I’m not the only one here who’s a poet. My boy’s become one too, the beginning stages, the starting out. Can we show you what we’ve done? It’s all in pages now. Start with Harm’s End and go to YouTube, not my channel his, and then you’ll end up on Twitter, and you’ll see him since he was seven. He’s 12 now. Unbelievable, your eyes pop out, the photography, the poetry, the one on one love out. You know I’m countin’ sheep. Wake up people, rise. It’s time we built a new society, and we start with our children.
Anybody argue with that? Go atom bomb the world. Keep on our present course, and we won’t have a world no more. Come on people, embrace change. I’m here beside you, and man I change too.
System failure the Dukes of Hazard (and I will adopt this boy, you wait and see) keep from happening with our poetry. Put it down to the divine word. India, you hear that. That’s our anthem today. Land it on student rose into the big house, into high society, into where we need to be, thank God in love. We are safety Earth.
He’s tellin’ me he’s not gonna learn Tamil. Free up your mind. You have a system reach in there and grab you. They own you, your parents. I am there to see that happen: you become your own person, out from under their control, under my care, because they have raped you with their control, not sexually, in the very heart of process identity. They have raped you there, and the court will see this and award me custody. I will not take your culture from you sweetheart. I will take you to America, and there you can be the teenager you dreamed to be. Am I out of line? I am right there with your soul in the situation, and I will free you from them, and put you on the right path to where you belong in life. To India you will return, because that’s your destiny, but in America you will put on your poet wings and learn to fly, and when you fly back home to mother India, the world will stand still a moment as the poet takes his station.
I will rise to that occasion myself here in my station now. Now I’m flyin’. Am I just a foreigner, or have I put on Indian wings? You hear the soul of India in my voice, and for that she allowed me be here. Wanna throw this away? I dare you.
photo by Douglas
To change Indian, what it means to change the rocket ship of the Earth. India needs her spirituality, not her religion, to give the world the means to change. You are the example for us all. It’s not America. It’s India, where the change begins, right there with your children, giving them the freedom to live what their soul purpose put them here for, what there for them God has arranged. You don’t put parental rights in that slot. Oh seer, begin with the child.
Have I reached your understanding? This is world business. We’re not here to make guns, run the profit, or put our mark on the moon, although we do have a moon purpose. We’re here to unfold our souls on planet Earth, what it means to be human in the vulnerability of our craft, where sincerity is the order of the day, and love goes round to all. Would you argue with that? What kind of world do you want? A seership asks that question. Can you put on this music. Okay let’s ride.
It’s business bottom line now, but start with the children and that will change. Are you seein’ this baby dog? My wonderful little boy, that’s why you’ve come. You’re gonna stand up for children, and you’ve walked through hell to get there. It’s not because you’re bad sweetheart they’ve taken down your life. You need to know the price of suffering in a little boy’s heart and mind, so you can rise to your purpose. If you did not know folly you could not heal folly. If you did not know the child’s fall their parents make, you couldn’t help one child up. Congratulations my sweet little boy, you’ve won. Hey Nithish, you’re free. I wrote to see you in the morning. You know we’ll be together soon.
This is not Auschwitz, but you’re hangin’ in your home on your parents’ rope. Pleasures, punishments, they mixed the two, so they can say look, he’s smiling, everything’s okay, but it’s not is it? Scared to death you call me and tell me of your woes. I’m not making any of this up. Okay this is the rescue I promised from the beginning. It’s here. I’ve come. Let’s see your parents’ love for you. Will they make this go to court, stubbornly in their pride? Or will they see wisdom and release you into your fuller life? Okay I’ve put the question. I’ve wrote the poem. Sandiya, Sundar, do you want your family torn apart? No court is necessary. He just comes with me, and you will see him I promise, as often as he like. Even from America he can come and visit you. So what do you choose, a family torn asunder in a court’s by law decree, or your boy granted freedom to be what he was meant to be? You choose. I’m waiting.
Now Nithish, do your part, and stand up to your parents, with respect and consideration, but not with giving in, and tell them what you need, not what they want to hear. You have been put on Earth for this. If you can’t do this, what child can? Loud and clearly tell them they’ve hurt you and please stop. I go back to my grandfather now. They’ll hear you, if they love you, and you’ll come back to me. Do it fast. There’s so much danger on our road. Are you listenin’? We’ve miracled consciousness you and I, and yes you are. Let the mountains sing. You hear me on the inside.
I love the sweet sound of music a racin’ to me on the inside from this boy’s consciousness. Can you do that? We can. You’re gonna see this out, our special love, [above line heard sung by the Bee Gees, to tune of “Too Much Heaven”] and you’re gonna know the world can change. We’re gonna world this out. Come on play with me. In prevision see what this boy’s told me, his voice from the past, to help me guide him out of this prisonhood with his parents. You’re not gonna believe it, but you’re gonna see it. A bonafide miracle YouTube channel. His last two videos, check them out. That’s S. Nithish, and we’ll change the world now. Got it sweetheart? Good, I’ll be there to pick you up soon. Gee whiz, what a message poem, and it’s right on the edge of the Earth, turnin’ towards the Sun. That’s what we do together, I love you.
Get it spiritual, not religion. Glory hallelujah that’s plan. Can I show you the inner process? I’m right around the corner, Bharat India. Seership said that. That’s all I’m doin’, focused on that kid. See the results. Grow the rays to test an experiment: can we connect with each other in consciousness, when outer contact’s not there, or very nearly none, if our love is pure, and the need is there, and the bond is there? He needs to be rescued. I need to see it done. I practiced so much with dogs first, my beloved Lisa, my dead Rottweiler, and now with Luna and our other dogs. You would not believe the inner contact in consciousness you can have with your pets. You turn that up a notch when it’s with your child, but there’s danger here. It can’t be for control or manipulation, and that soul has to let you in, and you soul has to say okay, and divine beings will be around to help. Oh my God they see you here. And Hostile Powers will be there to slay. And behind it all God is just really talkin’ to Himself. Do you get that meaning? The consciousness speaks. I think I raised the barn. In any event, success in experiment. We really accomplish it, navigating human inside, and the soul agrees.
There’s a perplexing. There’s a shared field of consciousness between these two. You have to be alive with the program to see it. Question both of them, you will find it out. It’s hiddenly there. The videos are just one example. They get it all day long. It’s not bad it’s good, and it’s humanity. Tear it asunder? What’s you’re lookin’ at is the future of mankind. You will throw that away, if you can’t understand it’s true. We share consciousness together, the whole human race. What a good society. What a good story. Deliver it to delivery.
photo by Douglas
We made each other laugh. That was the mystic advocating for himself. You know it’s there from their crying pain. They longed for each other. They lunged for each other, and they found each other deep inside the other’s consciousness. You’ve never seen this before. It’s what we’re lookin’ at. It’s how we square ourselves away. You know you’re your brother’s keeper, and Heaven and Earth will not stop you from being that. You know. It’s how we survive. We find this out.
Can I please have my MTV? Okay, let these boys be together. It’s weird. It’s strange. It’s huge, but it’s how we get there: we become each other’s consciousness. Now you see it. Now you don’t, but you’ll learn it’s there enough practice. It’s amazing to look at, and here is amazing for you. It’s a field of love, and you cannot deny love, if it’s real love, no matter what you do. These parents tried. They failed, and they went to extremes to do so, and they punished the boy for their failure. How’s that for mean? Are you gonna do the same thing? They need to be together now. Don’t be his parents. They got mean. Just let ‘em go, be together, and see what they do. The world has never seen it before, a man and a boy, and a couple too, changing the whereabouts of being human in the direction of love. You got a problem with that? I didn’t think so. Give them their space. They need it. We balloon together.
His mother’s paradise law, you need to understand it’s not how the system works. She almost killed him for it. Don’t let her do it again. Protect this boy from her emotional dependency, her manipulation, her control. That’s child abuse India, and you need to see it. That’s what this boy went through. Now let’s go, the man and boy see each other again. She almost tore him asunder with that. She took away his life, his love, his dogs, his everything, just so she could eat him alive. Are you good with that? I didn’t think so. Now he needs healed from that abuse, that squashing of his identity, that day and night tirade to make him love her and forget this man. Why on Earth would you not let this man heal him?
I’ve got in in store, and it’s a simple equation: I meet his needs over mine. I give him a safe place to start his life over again. I give him his beloved dogs. Is anybody worried about what they went through? I give him his space to be himself. I don’t put rules on him to keep him to me or curtail his growth. I teach him myself his homeschool, and I will broaden his horizons with this teacher and that place, and these children, to give him the fellowship he needs, the other input than mine, and the interesting lands ahead. I’ve got it covered. Will you let me heal him? That’s what we’re doin’ here. That’s why I’ve called you all to this poem.
Okay it’s the strangest thing you’re lookin’ at. It’s the inner voice, how directed and true. Why would you go back to business as usual? Because you can’t take the new? He’s real, and he’s right here. Would you please question that boy about child abuse? He’s waitin’. He’s ready. He’s told me to tell you to come. Get him away from his mother and protect him afterwards. She will destroy him for it, and you have more than one crime there. Find them out, crimes against a child. Is that okay with you? Now go, get this boy. Talk to him. Get him to his man and let him be healed. Why would the system do it? It was the system did this to him, and we’re here today for system change. That’s on the record. It’s on the menu today.
Why lift the boundaries? (vision with the line of a wave of birds, thousands of them, coming up from the ground and into the sky in one solid waterfall-like movement but going up. This happened as I was sitting on a park bench) To go through life together under the Sun. To be ourselves with other people, but ourselves alone too. To give that boy what he needs, and he needs an involved I love you son wrapped around me. To change the world. We’re not messin’ around.
Now have we been put on hold, for the umpteenth time? Will I awake? Call me, senior advocate. Very closely nearly there. You better let me. I’ll delete everything, and you got your seer no more. What is it, a love reaction? You’ve betrayed the very essence of reality in my fundamental makeup, in my fundamental see, if we don’t come together, and I will know that the world is a fucked place we’re doomed.
And if we set ‘em sir, and if they’re not here, what is their placement? You can sit us in your organizing society, and we will show you where we rose. We’ll be here master plan.
I’m getting close I can’t stay yours. I’m a learning disability. Daddy do something about that girl. (vision with the line of a big man walking beside me with a black beetle in his mouth, and he was choking on it, and I was slapping his back to get it out) You’re dyslexic that’s okay. Your mother can’t punish that no more. I will take you with me, and you can be dyslexic in my school. I love you so very much. Next week, I promise.
Start happening! Start happening! I looked at it, [this line and the two above lines heard spoken in Nithish’s voice] and exactly as you said it happened. I want to know what your vision was. Momma laid her feet on me. All’s I could feel was our deep, undying love taking me to the lake. I will be there soon.
You will paint some rosy picture that I am to blame. I’m a Facebook mob. Oh I’m sorry, seven views. On WordPress there’s two. And Nithish, I see him now. His mother has replaced me, and he let her do it. The hugs, the kisses, the warm rubs, the excited talk about this and that, that woman who beat him has replaced me, and he’s happy with it. I can see the treatment. He’s a baby Sandiya told me on the phone. She’s gettin’ her juice. Before she would not even admit he was still a child.
Okay they go together. What am I still doing here? What the fuck, over? You have replaced all my lands. You have taken my very child and given that place I have with him to someone else, and they beat him and they slap him, and they lord it over his life. What more do you want from me? Why do I have to see that?
I have been betrayed in the sense of my stuff, by a little boy that took all of my heart and always wanted more. Where is release from this? He’s still won’t speak my name to his parents. Get that, won’t even say he wants to see me, the love of his life for all these years. What blackness is in the heart of children? What cruelty lurks behind their touch, wizziles with you in their face?
This is blind cruelty. The boy just wants to get by. To hell with me, as long as he gets his good food and bag of sweets and special treatment. He’s cast me aside, and I made so much noise, whenever he called, it forced him to call me and come out of his stupor face me a moment, come out of his animal bliss.
We’re dealing with a kid from the train yard. Whatever divine element in him, he has just gotten rid of. What do you do with such a kid? He will never speak up. He’s satisfied. He’s got his parents’ attention, and is the focus of so much love, even if it’s for his parents to have him and not for him. This operation sucks.
Do we rock that poem on Main Street and show it to the kid? I’m not happy with this boy. He’ll walk the room listening for phone calls, listening for Nithish. Man-managed plan develop on rainbows. Let’s look at that replacement line. Ruth, this is daddy. Now I’ll call you mother. There a step-mother sleeps. And you never got close to her, but you were dependent, a little child, and you had to look to someone to take care of you. She was mean. She was a monster, but you called her mother, and that was your choice.
You hated the relationship. You cried and cried. You really tried to please her, took her assessment of you as conscious fact, believed her when she came crashing down on you for just leaving your boats in the yard: you were a bad boy.
She saw you naked, washed your back in the tub. She combed your hair before school in the morning and fussed over your clothes, and you hated that woman. You were 10 and 11, no? She was just so mean to you. “Get up you little bastard it’s time for school.” “I know you like a book. You’re no good, and your father’s no good.” That really sucked.
The constant tirade coming out of her mouth she flushed at you, anytime you were in earshot, that did you in. You hid in the woods for hours, until your father came home, and he was no gentle lover. A stern man with whippin’s, that’s what he gave.
Now look at Nithish. He’s making the best of a bad situation. He’s being punished for loving you, and no one seems to notice that. In his heart it’s liberation towards you, like you felt towards your mother, only she didn’t want you back, was not on the edge of consciousness night and day trying to carry your pain. That boy has got you, and you’re all he’s got.
Can we mention this to the world at large? A boy has a man he’s loved all his life, who’s taken care of him more than his parents, and for that he has been so traumatized that he’s died inside. He’s still loves this man, and so much time his parents have spent to kill this in him. What the fuck, over? Are you listening to this? Can they do that? Just because he loves me he’s gone through so much punishment, gaslighting, brainwashing, and psychological torture: here boy, love this man? Let’s go to a fine restaurant. I’ll take you to a spa. Forget him, forget him, forget him.
But it doesn’t work, and the parents are frustrated. They don’t know their son. Okay we just ride this, let it be? The boy’s better off just doing his school work? I beg your pardon? You put a child through hell and say it’s for good grades in school? That’s his reason for living, why he can’t have this man? That’s an eight standard education talking, his mother’s. This man is a Classical Greek scholar, and knows dyslexia when he sees it.
Oh beanpoles, you will not get away with this. I’m comin’ for that boy, and I’m comin’ loud and clear, and I’m bringin’ the posse, and I’m bringin’ the cavalry, and if Indians don’t know matters of the heart, just say yeah beat the children, let them lick their parents’ spoon, Americans know better, and they’re on the way out of this, and that’s who I’ve employed.
Aerosmith, it’s Aerosmith to tell you that American thing, lights out on total control and ever remember your dreams. Got some Pink Floyd here. American music, there’s music there for the land Earth, and it sticks in your craw like a love song. You hear our anthem here. Won’t you buy a little American pie? We don’t doubt the man does. Are you afraid the boy does? And I’m not givin’ the lowdown on abuse. That’s magic in love, a parental man for his little son, a big boy for his best friend, a man and a boy who love each other. Hear it?
We gather you in poems, one after another. Can you speak that far? I don’t think you’re over the fence, one foot process from stuck in the craw to living school. You don’t know how. That’s saving grace, whether you know it or not. Come on let’s ballon, and let’s give this keeper his time shares. He’s keepin’ a boy safe from harm. You know his mother reads this, reluctantly, somehow, despite herself. We take her there. For the poems now. (vision with the line of someone offering two Rupees notes, one a large denomination and the other a bit smaller, but it was big money) I get paid in regard and help this little boy, not a baby in the room, not even a chair.
He’s been taken out of the picture by his mother, and no one can question him a thing about where his mother is taking him, if she’s not in the room. A boy of 12 see that, no will of his own, year there’s a civilization on record, mluv pomaleji prosím. (vision with the line of being on a bicycle and turning to my passenger behind me and saying that Czech phrase, putting my finger to my lips so to say be quiet). May I help you with that? Expressive of their will is expressive of their life. Don’t deny them that, and you’re off to the races. Don’t put down later. Pretty much give him to the public. Hey, what color of a shirt didn’t he didn’t wearing today? The color his parents choose for him. A raccoon was not a ground speaker, but he lifted up his head. The voice is in the room.
Is that what you want society, another person dependent upon society to be his mother? No will of his own, that blooms. He can’t find himself. He might even kill you, the manhood takes its stand. Robbed of his will right there where he becomes a man, just entering the body changes of adolescence. Can you say that? Just tell me what to do okay, that’s what we hear. Sure society, that’s what you want, a world of beggars please. Let’s study this room. See Nithish.
Okay Nithish, I forgive you son. It’s not your fault. You’re not to blame, and I will see you soon.
Bless on shoulder what got in there. Very message your message to Nithish. That’s how he finds out it’s in his room now. How will I know he even reads it? YouTube channel, check there. I’m a message there.
One step for the game. Did the little boy see me? In his underpants, no dice. He would’ve cried if he could. He was on description. It was long and short. This buried him in memories. Wherever he had imagined he would live, never was it away from me.
We’ve got to get along here, so we can get back together. I don’t know fantasies. I hate being played with. I don’t know if he saw anything. I only know it hurts deep inside, and insanity has returned, and the walls are closing in. There’s no way outta here!
The passage of time is like hours that crawl through hell, and I am so deep underwater there’s no way up. The waves a grief tear at my throat, over and over again. Oh little boy I would like this fantasy real, and the Anarchs that play with me fuck you! Are you in my description my wonderful little baby dog?
It’s a thumbnail on your disease: get me all this food. Do you remember that? How can you forget our time together? Where have those memories gone? How do we find them? I’m sittin’ here livin’ with ‘em, and they bring on such tears. They’re crowding my life away, and I can’t see you anymore.
This is too much for me sure pet. It’s the infinity in the room. It’s eating me alive, and I’d almost rather die than be here, but I know that’s not true. Death is hell. I can’t do this. I need relief from my pain. You are gone forever aren’t you? This I cannot take.
Your form is haunting me. I feel you walk up to me over and over. It’s like you’re almost there. I feel you live and breathe, and this is too insane to think about, but I feel you baby dog, like you’re right here!
This is insane take, and I don’t know what I’m doing with you, and you’re all normal and not surprised that you’ve forgotten grief. I hate this undershed upnoodle. The ways of insanity go deep. The Anarchs of pain have arrived, and I will be shot dead soon. We just have left the rifle shot.
Claustrophobic, it’s the air I breathe. It’s on my downtown, and I can’t get outta here. It tries in space and blows it apart, and I just get snot on my nose. Oh Nithish I love you Nithish.
Wait a minute, that’s you, actually you, comin’ to me again. Insanity by the hours, I’m not goin’ crazy. I'll be comin' for yah, honey dog, on the edge of tomorrow, within the next fews days. How do I know this is true? Read my blog. Put us together on WordPress. Compliment to go, I’m so excited.
Right there in Kuruchikuppam, people are gonna be made to see they’re wrong. That’s not the way to handle life. There are better ways of doing it. You don’t hit children, and you don’t cover it with fine speech. You beat the shit out of them with a wooden board, just for mention he loves me, and then you talk about your excellence in him for education?
The sophistication of a mag doll tears apart your life and makes you sin. I am there to remind you. Oh sophisticated sister, I will show you to the world as the braggart you are and the bane of your children’s lives. You are not fine gold. You are a base and raw metal that crumbles society. I will take you down to your underpants, as symbols see society, and show the hatred and anger you really live life with.
I will call your name as the one that so traumatized Nithish, you almost destroyed his life. I will pick those pieces up and tarry him in healing waters, and take that aching heart of his and expose it to the sun. I will heal that boy from the trauma you gave to him. You took his own identity and threw it in the trashcan. You could not stand his preference for me, and you ate his life with it, so jealous of me you put his life out on the line.
This is the poem of her. I will get you baby dog, away, safe from her, or I will lay down my life trying. This is a sudden rescue we will do, as God counts the hours, and it will be legal and square with all involved. Kidnapping will not be justified here, and you will have rights to your child as he gives them. When he feels safe with you again, then he will visit you.
You know I want custody of that child, the legal guardian of his life. This is not take him from you as you took him from me, and it was in my house that he lived. You forbade all outer contact, even the slightest touch, no visits, not even for an hour, no phone calls, not even a message to each other. We couldn’t even see each other, best friends most of his life, and I am the parent that he prefers, why you took ‘im, and for that woman low, you will know the price of pain, but I won’t dish it out. It’ll be in your death’s star. You are the willow in the wood that weeps for long and sure, standing by eternity.
The cruelty of that moment you will feel as if it were done to you, and tearing your heart out of your breast, crying away insanity, in some death lesson after death, you will come to know this. The time that you took to change your mind, was measured in pathos of pain, where one single hour is insanity’s wait, crawling through time like death has your hand. Do you even know what you did?
Is this your son’s pain or mine? We put on a happy face and forget about it to all but inner eyes. I am the child of destiny, and if I show you my pain, you will bite me with it— the nature of a child weeps. Are you game for this? See it, feel it, know what you did. I will show the world, and you will see it in the eternities of your mind. Here, here, I reveal.
But not now you change your mind. You are too proud for that. You are too cruel for that, and now you call me names and a good man, who helped you like a bitch, a helping hand that always mattered, that you drew from left and right, my time, my money, and my care and concern. Don’t you think the Gods look down on such hateful ingratitude, and see you as nothing but that woman over there who dangers children’s lives, her own the point of pain.
I will see you there, in humanity’s heart glow, when we’ve made our long journey and brought it to a close. Disguised as sin and defeat, disguised as love, we walked the ways of the Earth. Now here we are in Heaven’s reach, but the heaven after the goal, and we will forgive each other the disguises we wore that were necessary on battlefield Earth. I will see you there Sandiya, one day. That’s the nature of Earth.
(Vision of Nithish sitting down on a bed in a room like his family’s room in Kuruchikuppam. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, head down and holding his hands together in front of him, elbows on his knees) As you get details of his life in here, alone in a room. I’m a little child. I don’t know the number of school. Lumber did that, killing every sweet thing I had. I was into long silences, and I could hear the room breathing. I thought I would lose my mind. Talk Nithish. What do I say to them? I will beat you you stupid kid. This was bouncing off walls, and I could not see the room that I lost my life in.
I had so much pain in my heart. My mother kept me from crying. She was an alligator for my tears. She was just some other room. I defied her for as long as I could. Then she hit me, everywhere on my body but my face, a flat board rainin’ down blows. I gave in. I’m okay with it. I’m fine with it. That is not the way it happened. I will do what you say I said in my mind. Then I forgot about you for a little while. You were there somehow. You wouldn’t let me go. I cried and I cried. No the tears had all gone. I was a happy kid they said.
I continued to support them, and they rewarded me for it with so much favorite food. Then the hill came. I climbed it to death, and that’s when I touched your face in an amazing dream. You were holding me in a chair at my old school. I was telling you about my mother, how she is. You told me about your tears. You had a hold of me like you’d never let me go. The comfort at that moment stayed in my room, and I carried you there. I continued to act like a little brat, but my road had found you, and I aloned to that. This was wonderful news to my aching heart.
I was wonderful there in my house by the lake, and I want to see my puppy again and get my life back, but my mother has said she will not change her decision. Move me toward the door. She can’t bury love. She can just torture me for it and make me feel bad I don’t love her like you daddy. I will see you soon.
He’s saying I will be there soon, in your house your little boy again, grown bigger by his tears. Now can we get him outta there, Sandiya? I’m holding you responsible for this. You’ve cut that boy’s mind, made him suffer so much pain because you are jealous of him with me, not because of school, or the love of Sri Aurobindo, what you tell people to sound nice. I have you in my sights, and I will not leave you alone. I will continue to rush you with the pain you’ve caused us.
You’re the pain of the old society, where kids were their parents wishes, no freedom for them, and they wore school around their neck like it was what they were worth, and their parents could beat them, touch them, yell at them and abuse them, and no one ever heard, and they grew up and brought a mean world into view.
We have a planet here, raising stakes. I’m gonna get that sweetheart, and with our poems and with our might, we’re gonna help bring in the new society and change life on Earth. This is not you Sandiya. It’s not me. It’s not Nithish. We are world carriers in form, the boy and I where change comes in, you the adamant old rule. I will see you in hell for this, and that might be sooner than you think.
A lost guitar, you’ve think you’ve kept him from me? You’ve only showed him more. I will find you, and I will tell you: give me that boy, not for my rule, not for my pleasure, for his aching need. You know what I’m talking about Sandiya. You see it everyday.
What kind of mother are you? And you ask who am I? I am the sustainer of this boy’s life. I am his protector and I am his love, and you will step aside and give him room to grow as I parent him towards a clear and certain goal: he is himself on wide green Earth, and he’s doing what he loves, not what he hates, and he’s doin’ pretty good. He’s got all of this going for him that you don’t see, and you speak like you know this boy, but you don’t even know me. I’m comin’ Sandiya, with the proper people next time, and I’ve failed and I’ve failed, but you know I’ll succeed. Here I come.
On the loud speakers this is a terrible story, and it’s showing Indian. They beat children. That’s her form: what a powerful might that can’t hold itself together and soon falls down. Sometimes art general. This is a heartache spotlight. There really is an abused child there, scared and alone. Lay down, come on lady, come on.
I will see you there Sandiya in the not too distant future. Wet means? Where our Earth meets the Sun. It’s the supramental, where that boy is found, and his emotional statement will bring in the picture the child, and that child needs help. This is infinity’s room, and we’ll have an upgrade soon, a golden opportunity. (Vision as the above line was spoken of Nithish at some wall in a city, and on the wall was a box of squares like a tic-tac-tow box but with many more squares, and Nithish wrote an X and an O in the top let hand corner of the box, the first two figures written on the box, and the sense was this was just the beginning) Let them be known together.
I am in my own city now. I have to get Nithish out of my consciousness or else insanity looms. I cannot carry him anymore. This is painful. I'm all out of sorts.
We have reconciled. He stood by while a cop tried to arrest me and said nothing. His mother had put the cop there because I had spoke to Nithish at his school, there to speak with his principal about the real reason his mother wouldn't let me see him, and I was concerned with her abuse.
As the cop tried to put me on his bike to take me away, Nithish was walking away and did not even look back. I had committed no crime, and so they could not take me in. Sandya stood by gloating, and then walked away disappointed when I wasn't nabbed.
The consciousness can't take that. It doesn't compute. I am finished holding him. This is terrible news. I had gone there to defend him, and I was worried sick over his situation. He all but pulled the trigger.
And I am left holding the gun. Nithish showed me a video on his mother's phone, which had gone to him. It was of his little brother masturbating, legs spread, penis erect, hand going at it. Sandya can be heard in the background laughing, but she didn't take the video. It's child pornography, but she said they did it in fun.
I've heard about for the last three years Nithish's father masturbating his little brothers, not diddling with it pumping it, for several minutes or more. He had tried to do Nithish, but Nithish said no. I did nothing with this information, except tell Nithish to say no. When Mithrin, the boy in the video, who's three and some, got big enough, his father masturbated him a lot, and Dhina, Nithish's auntie's husband, taught the boy how to spit on it and rub. Nithish told me these things. I heard all this, and just filed it away.
Dhina made the video, and now I'm left holdin' the gun. Do I shoot them with it? I don't want to hurt Nithish. So what do I do? I just leave the boy alone. I don't stand here and study him. I don't try to get him back to me. It's over. It's done.
Okay you've heard the news, why Nithish was taken from me. I mentioned that video to his mother and his father masturbating his brothers, to try and protect him from them. You see the results. Even the boy hates me, but I don't truly know that. Okay shoot me, public. I am the bad man here, turning that little boy against his family, and wanting him to go with me.
I thought I had a better home, and I wasn't his abuser, but you know kids are fickle. They hang on that family tree. I'm a nigger to him, a வெள்ளைக்காரன், and he just wants to be left alone. He's happy with the presents his parents buy him and the cater to his whim. And pain? Fuck pain. He wants his smile to be real.
So you have a masturbating video as the cause of all this charm that he's getting from his parents. They don't want him to tell on them, and they want his love for me gone. Well that did it, no word from him in days: daddy are you okay? what happened? I've been so worried about you.
He's just decided better go with it, his refusal of me. It's easier that way. Just ignore me and enjoy himself. I will never hear from him again. I can see that now. I've done my job, every possible thing I could do, to get him out of his parents' clutches and back towards the poet of the coming dawn, a destiny he had refused.
Now what do I do with this? I know the public you don't care. You would also have me arrested if you could. This may be my last poem. I'm throwing in the towel. We tried. We finished, and I failed.
Now glory in your self-righteousness, and tell me again you love kids. I don't believe that. Okay now I'm leavin' my little boy. You will not help, but I think I know what happened. He was totally afraid of his mother, that boy of twelve. There at the school she told him to renounce me and raised her hand to slap him. I grabbed that hand and pulled it down, and he did not give her what she wanted. She even put her hand over his face, so he couldn't see me. That's total control, and he had to go home with her afterwards.
What does a child do when the shit hits the fan? They stand there and cry, Ben 10 not included, or the Avatar and his gang. Nithish showed kid shock. He was just bewildered. He managed a weak head-bowed yes when I asked him if he loved me, and would he back me up. That was before the cop came. We were invited into the office to settle this dispute, by the principal before that cop arrived, but that Sandya refused. She wanted me arrested for defying her to see my boy.
We can't blame this on the kid. He's innocent in this, and I don't know how he feels now, but I can't continue hurting him and me. I can't love him like this. That little boy's been broken, stabbed in his identity, made to feel all alone in the world, put down for trying to hurt his parents, and at the same time they lift him up, afraid he'd tell.
What do we do with children, when they're in a bad situation, and our helping them hurts them more? We leave. We tear our heart out of our breast, put blinders on the soul, and just walk away. That's what I'm doing today. You with me?
Here is the address where the mother and the boys live and Sandya’s telephone number: +91 9384460042 64 Nettu St. Kurusukuppam, Puducherry, 605012 The street is only a tiny alleyway accessible from Advocate Chinnathambi St. Fourth Cross. On Sardar Vllabhai Patel Salai, a main road, turn left on Francois Martiin Street. Turn left again on Advocate Chinnathambi Street, about 500 meters from the Patel Salai. Go to Le Nid Apartments on Advocate ChinnaThambi Street, which is on the left where the street turns sharply right. Stand facing the apartment gates and turn right 90 degrees and you will see a little alleyway in front of you. Go down it and it immediately turns left and her house is the first door on the left. It is a very narrow alley. Time is of the essence. They are on their way to his father’s apartment in Chennai to avoid me. His address: Ashok Pillar 29 sector, 6th block Chennai, 2nd apartment building and the left, 1st floor, wooden door.
They spill your blood. They dust you off to kill you more. They know just when to sooth you and just when to bite. They eat you alive, and then laugh about it like they care for you, or you’re just not doin’ right. They lead you by the hand to amazing vistas of rose petals, a dire love, and then they cut your heart out in the very place they called you love.
This is diabolical. This is oh so sweet. You have some semblance there of hey hello it’s me; I am your love, remember? And those memories kill you because they’re insanely not there to make any more with you. You can’t touch that. You can only cry, helpless heaving cries that startle up your mind to insanity’s fallout. This touches you. This laughs at you. This enters your neck.
You are not there with them, that little boy you love, and he has lost his comfort zone, I mean really his whole life, to live in a shed with grey bones to sleep on and parents that finally get the chance to rub his nose in it: all these years for preferring me. Do you get the picture?
They torture me with that, the anarchs of pain, and his pain rends my breast and makes me want to kill myself because I want to shoot myself for his pain. What do I do?
I just sit here and tell you. No one will listen. We’re a racial mix, and I’m in a foreign land, and all’s people see is a red flag. They don’t know what they’re lookin’ at, and so they hurt us more, thinking we’ve sinned together as man and wife. The boy’s 12. You stupid people. That’s not the relationship.
We have love from the fountain of soul. I’m afraid this is as close as you can get, two people, and we’re suffering for that now. It’s there we love. It’s there we hope. It’s there we stand and face each other. You don’t mind. You only see yourself.
He’s forgotten about me. They try to tell me that. Oh he’s happy move on. But then I meet him in dream and vision, or talk to him on the phone, a forbidden enterprise he has to sneak to do, and I’ve found him again the lover of my life, where he was when they didn’t see him.
Kids aren’t all on pain. They’re not geared for that. Their mask just allows the public to see hey I’m alright; look I play and laugh and sing, but I’m not there you know; I’m inside with the pain, and you know I can’t hide it always, nor even very much.
So we’ve unlocked these doors, the Furies that punish us for so deep a love. What type of love is this? It's deep-seated parental feelings more than anything else. Can you get your head around that? It’s boy love without the sex. It’s a man’s embrace. It helped hold the world together in ancient times. I’m his tutor. I’m his love. I’m his friend, but most of all I hold his hand. I’m the one who guides him through life, and he is a spiritual arrangement. I do not love him if I abuse him, and that love starts my day, where I hold this little boy. There is no abuse here. I do not cut his teeth on silver diamonds.
Can a kid handle this? This has been humanity’s beef all along: you can’t take children and put ‘em in a box and make them obey there, protecting them from the world by protecting them from themselves. This is an ancient relationship I tell you, and it’s not bad, evil, or mean. It’s as wholesome as the night sky, as helpful as a forest moon. You can read us in volumes of poetry, and the boy has videos, and he’ll tell you about himself.
We have something new for the Earth, and integral healing plan that meets nature right where the Earth is, so the soul can express itself. We’re expressing soul. Do you hear that?
We don’t know how to arrive. We weren’t separated by parental concern. I’ve been his erastes for six years, a full on parental relationship. He mostly stayed with me for these half dozen years, but I was at his birth. He came into my life at one and a half, as this little tyke I helped take care of, and we have been doing this since he was three: I was a parent in the room.
Now you can take this and cut it up. accuse us of pederasty, but what you got here is two people in love, whatever the form, and it’s right relationship. I test you to go and see. We’ve left public record, starting since when he was three.
Okay crowd, we let the parents arrange this, with their hate and their spite and their mean, because they are jealous of our relationship? And are at this very moment forcing themselves on the boy, and he doesn’t want that. He wants to be home with me.
I’ve laid it all out on the table, told you the story. What do you want, social change, where kids meet bigger people, or do you want the kids to remain the same and do not change the nature of man, so we can become better people and save the world? I’m lookin’ you in the eye. Engage our social media, the boy’s and I. We will change the world.
Harm's End 