I might’ve slipped on the internet This is no problem for me. It’s how I entered the internet. What do we got comin’? Poetry in your yard. Can I cross your brow with it? This is a think page. Go back to puppies and bullshit, if you want your hands in your underwear. The internet is for porn, in a nuclear holocaust.
What do I got for yah today? I don’t wanna write this down. A little girl was killed in Pondicherry, raped and murdered. I didn’t hear the news. Nithish told me on the way to school. Whatever happened, this girl suffered. Oh my God the reality these days. You should’ve seen caveman days, and all along humanity this has happened to children. It’s not special today. It’s just horrible.
I’m sorry little girl. She was nine-years-old. Nithish told me about Hindi kidnappers in Tamil Nadu. There were 300 of ‘em, it said on the news. Again, it’s Nithish’s report. I don’t speak Tamil, especially on the 6 o’clock news.
Goddamn this girl got killed, and do you know what? She was in her neighbor’s house for two days before it happened. She tried to escaped and they killed ‘er. What was normal procedure? You search the goddamn neighborhood, especially across the street. A strange old man livin’ alone? Hey man, can we check your house? That didn’t happen. Everybody was lookin’ for Hindi kidnappers, far away from the house, taking her organs and selling them. It was a mass hysteria, and it cost the city a lot. They would’ve found that girl, if they followed procedure.
I don’t think no one’s listenin’ to me. There was a day long strike all over Pondicherry before they found the girl. Where is she? Not far from the Hand, not far from God’s grace and lovingkindness. She can’t come back to us. No way, she’s dead.
Man is a trapped being; I can make that armstrong strong; what do you want to die next? said the demon to the little girl. Cause she’s a baby, can we carry this baby? Can we get around this baby? It wasn’t her fault. Hell opened up on that child and ate her.
We are left stunned. The pain, the fear, the little child suffered is unimaginable. I can understand the anger all over town, but it’s misplaced. She’s here to tell us something we can’t see: we can never blame ourselves for the wrong done by another; we aren't able to.
It’s exemplified in her, the abuse of children in Pondicherry. Slapped, kicked around, put in school, you don’t know the half of it. They’re made to bleed there, produce paltry items, the unnecessary, the boring, the out of wack, and they’re hit there. They’re made to go day after day to an excuse for school. Exams punish them. Their day is wasted in mean environments. Of course they bully each other. That’s what they’re learning there.
Can we take them home? Home’s a little harder, where the environment spills out. My God kids are beaten, made to serve their parents, told they are alive for their parents, controlled to the nth degree, lied to, spit on, and treated like they don’t count much. Is this your typical home in Pondicherry? It happens enough to produce this girl and her ordeal. Do you know the will available to abuse her from the collective conscious of Pondicherry? Set it right.
These are tell-tale signs that give us some indication what’s goin’ on in the collective. The symbol reproduces it in exaggerated form. It was not done by God it was done by devils, the demons attached to the men that did it and the horde of demons that came to feed. They’re all over Pondicherry. You don’t know their station here all over the world. They’re in your homes and families. They are the evil behind the act. We can only see the act.
Will you bear with me as I show you the blame game? I don’t know the timeline, but this girl didn’t die right away. She spent a couple of days in a house very close to her home. Nobody was lookin’ there with the focus of their concentration. Maybe she’d be alive if they did. A news report had broadcast some days earlier Hindi kidnappers were afoot kidnappin’ children in Pondicherry. That took the news and stupidly took the police station. Tamils don’t like out of state. They don’t want Hindi people here. So the search begin focusing on the mass hysteria of these organ sellers?
A video had circulated, of course, a Hindi kidnapper confessing all and tellin’ of the network in Pondicherry. That was the focus of the search, not for the little girl. I don’t know if they combed the neighborhood, knocked on doors, but that old man’s house was nearby, and he lived alone suspicious. What kept him from being searched? She was alive and there when they found her missin’, being raped repeatedly, while they looked elsewhere, and she wasn’t just murdered; she was killed with Hell’s hands.
Where are the Hindi kidnappers now? They are two Tamils in police hands, neighbors nearby. They young man had raped her before, and the old man ordered him to kidnap her and bring her to him, by threatening him with police would you believe? It all happened so fast. She was nabbed playing outside near her house. We have ganja to blame, new reports say. They were pot smokers, and it corrupted their Tamil. Tamils wouldn’t do this otherwise. Do you see the logic? Ban grass! and people are demonstratin’ in town. It’s already illegal.
What’s goin’ on? A culture is blind to itself, every culture on Earth. can we get ourselves to see? What do you do with your children, the first thing you should ask. Are you a teacher? You’re complacent just being one, but are you happy there? Do you really get mad at children? Do they see you smile throughout the day? Do they know your lovingkindness? It’s too much for you isn’t it, the system. You take it out on the kids. Would you get yourself to see that?
Now parents, do you shine on your children all the love and attention they need? It’s backbreakin’ work idn’t it, takin’ care of a home. Kids throw wrenches in the system don’t they, mess things up, won’t leave things alone. What do you do with them? I’m not askin’ if you love them or not. Do you speak harshly to them? Do you hit them? Do you rag on them all the time? They don’t measure up do they? No kids does in his parents’ room.
Pondicherry I’m sorry this is you. You’re hateful to your children, not every minute, not in every home, but it’s there strong enough to get this girl killed. You share responsibility Pondicherry with these two men, and I’ve written this poem so you can see that.
Do you know what a kidnapper is? Hold in the atmosphere the abuse of children where they are kidnapped. That’s the formula for TV. That’s the formula for Tamil Nadu. That’s the formula for Pondicherry. If you don’t see this more murders will come, more kidnappings. You’ll need to break ship to get it to stop. You’ll have to come from oneness base. That’s not typical. That’s not ordinary. That’s not the way we do things. It’s time we start.
All this talk of Hindu today, Hindu this, Hindu that, riled over cows, marriage conversions, temples in the air. I think Hindu gave the world oneness, didn’t it? It’s its underlying philosophy. On this Hindu stands. Where do you see it today in Hindu society? Is it ever-present? It’s not Hindu it’s oneness Hindu’s about. That is the temple we yard. That’s what brought it into being.
Hindu is alive on oneness. Without it it’s dead. Can you show me where India is alive today? Is Hindu alive today? Let’s do Hindu. Let’s do oneness.
I’m just anxious to ICU, and did you know that Hindu does that, brings us all to church? No, we need to get past temples and the religious offerings. We need to see oneness as the everyday of our lives. In practical hands it works, when you see the underlying of it all. Here I’ve shown you. I’m sorry Muslims don’t do this, or Christians, and Buddhists don’t believe it’s there. It’s the oneness of everything, the vibrant conscious oneness. It’s what Hindu has given to the world. It’s the truth of things. It’s why I’m here, and I’m here a long way from you. Will you join me in oneness?
Is this area to become worldwide useful? And oneness it is. We become practical that way. If we become oneness it is. We have to find the way there. I did, after bein’ horrible to children. It made me do it. I was open to God. I’m sleepin’ with one now, holding him safe, writing you this poem. I’ve taken care of him all night, his little heart, making sure he knows I’m here. He’s on me now, his little face on my chest. He’s seven now. He was born in my room. That means he was born from my house. His mother’s pregnancy was there. I’m a parental figure.
He trusts me. I have the key to his pants, but I don’t get into them with desire hands. He’s Nithish’s little brother. Nithish is in his room sleeping. I know how to take care of children, after so much trial and error. They really like my house. They are so welcome there, and I know how to do it, take care of a kid, just enough hands off to leave them alone, just enough hands on to give them what they need. This is fun for me. Did I hear you call me pedophile? I do love children, so much I can be in their presence all day, and I love it there. You need people like me. I make mistakes with my anger sometimes, yell and scream, and quickly apologize. They rule.
My ego gets bashed a lot, but you concede to a kid. You treat them well. They need to be the center of attention. The house revolves around them, in any God-given house, naturally. I teamwork this with Douglas, and he’s good with kids, funny as all get out, and we keep them kids safe and well taken care of. We are sweet to them. Everybody watches us do it here on the farm, smiles and warm faces, and we’ve been along together for years. Now I’m takin’ it to the next level, the public eye.
I want you to see oneness in operation. I’m one with you, one with these kids, and I want the world to see that it can be done, correct your problems with kids and move on. This is what I’m doin’ now, shakin’ Pondicherry by the leg, and sayin’ hey wake up, you need to change your way with kids. Is that too much to ask? It’s what we must ask. It starts with kids, our humanity, and the world unfolds in their hands how our hands have treated them. It’s not a nice world today is it?
Be nice to kids and it will be soon. If one generation, all around the world, could get it together with kids, and heal themselves of the abuse of them, the world would change automatically, dramatically be a better world. Is there too many of us to try? We can get it down in Pondicherry. We can take one city and show the ropes. We can make it our mandate, plan, not with the policeman’s stick, the angry shout, the tabloid news. It would have to be on oneness base. It would have to be holistically done. Hey, I’ve got a problem; can you give me the space to heal?
The healing would be immense. We would record how. It’s on God’s base, a dynamic healing plan right inside you. You’re hearin’ it speak now, an immune system we don’t know about. It heals us. Punishment, hatred, doesn’t.
What am I sayin’? Pondy grab your files and heal from what makes you abuse kids. I’ve shown a way, if you’re relaxed enough, if you can do it non-judgmentally and not even condemn yourself. It’s a love angle. It’s where we’re happenin’. Healin’s what we gotta do. Can we get started Pondicherry? Let’s see you put this on the news.
God as the ultimate existence that stands up creation, I would not see this as the Mother’s fancy. It was not her might. It wasn’t even what she was doin’. She was an Integral on Earth, a divine mother in human form. She was perfect and cast away all cares? What does a Mother mistake look like? It doesn’t look strong. We can pick apart her works, accept what we want, throw away the rest. No, we would not find the Mother there, but we need to know she’s strong, who made mistakes.
Who couldn’t see her mistakes, would that be a bridge too far? It’s the point of contention. It’s where we start. Now an integral arrangement sees everything in light of integrality. I will melt this understanding if I say it too quickly.
The Yoga of Integral Perfection calls for perfection before you start. Is that the gardener of the house? What does it mean be perfect in everything you do, always be perfect, never falter, never let your guard down once, and be austere always and ban pleasure from the room, all forms of pleasure, and wait for the bliss divine? I’ve paraphrased what the Mother said.
I’ve told you the truth. You can read it yourself. Do we take this and run with it? We die. It’s not possible in a human life. This is what we avoid, rigidity, a non-integral arrangement. What happened here?
The Mother spoke from her gun. She didn’t lift her voice and sing. She got carried away with the force of her words. She wanted divine perfection now. She couldn’t possibly tell us to get there that way: no flesh in the pan; put it on immediately. And yet this is what the Mother told us. It gives us scars. It makes us chew nails. It can’t be right.
We are left wonderin’ what to do, and we go to another place and she said balance your way there; don’t be moral-minded; don’t be a puritan; take it one step at a time; come to integrality slowly as fast as you can; give yourself room to breathe; it’s okay darlin’ I love you.
Can the Yoga see this, the Mother made mistakes? We would have to look at her death, months of moanin’ agony, and Pranab said she never mentioned the Work. We have to look at this. I’m sorry we have to. Was this a baseball card? No, it was her death. It happened to the Mother, and she spoke so bravely of death on so many occasions.
What happened there? All her austerities came to bear. She couldn’t lift them no more. They caught up to her, and in the end they ruled her. Do you know what she did? She kept death at bay. She actually, physically, kept death at bay, and it was her time to go. That’s what we must see, the strength of a God was in that will, but it was misplaced, misapplied, because she was there to conquer death you see.
Oh wait a minute I’m backin’ up. She was there to override death, make the physical a plaything of matter. My gun has misfired, I’m sorry. Make the physical obey the will of the Mother. In all her austerities involving matter, that was her aim.
She didn’t get that far. She came upon her consciousness and wanted done with it, and here’s where I do you business. She wanted done with the spiritual transformation before it was complete. How do I climb that mountain? Have patience with yourself my dear. How did I come to that conclusion? Evidence of the ego in Mother’s Agenda, her outbursts of anger on the floor, her impatience with herself, her still working it out in dream, her pride at being who she was. The Gods wanted her darshan she told a child once, who had angered the Mother for not waiting on her. Watch her hide her toothless grin. What do you say Donny? Mother I love you.
In his haste to put things right, make her where the Yoga stands, Sri Aurobindo overlooked these things in her, and no one could challenge him otherwise. Do you watch the Agenda? Early on is it? She tells Satprem she has gone beyond Sri Aurobindo. The exact nature of her words mean that. I think it’s the next session or shortly thereafter, she reports Sri Aurobindo with a stomachache. It’s all over his face. Now this is vision of course. What was he trying to tell her? She missed it completely. Do you see it? She hadn’t gone beyond Sri Aurobindo.
These are ugly things to look at, and we don’t want to. The Yoga of Integral Perfection bids us do. In her mistakes we are made right. We let them do what they need to do, give us some indication of the hardness of our endeavor, know that it’s not worked out yet the Yoga, and help us do it ourselves, avoiding those mistakes.
My God I’m sorry I’m showin’ this to yah. I’ve dealt with it for years. Maybe you have too? There was the Mother in books, and there was the Mother holding my hand, now my kid’s hand, sometimes very different Mothers. Can you hear this? You’d have to get concrete inner contact to see it.
I’m not down on her. She is the one I follow to make this yoga work for me. It’s her hand I hold. It’s her eyes that direct me where I’m to go. To write this poem I tried to tell her no. I don’t want to make you mad at me. Maybe we’re newfound friends? I obey the Mother, not always, not every time, but in my life she eventually gets her way. I concede.
In you’re hearin’ this poem I do. Please don’t shoot me for it. I love the Mother. I am her disciple, and I take her to heart, an integral, loving, mother that is the divine power behind this yoga, our protection, and our abide by Sri Aurobindo. Do I give you all my knowledge at once? They are one you know.
Now let’s get this beer can away from my lips. The Mother wants it so. Now every once in awhile is fine. Now here’s the deal: how do you break the rules by followin’ them? There has to be a plan, and the Mother laid this one out for me. I like beer, just a beer in the evening one or two times a week, but that would be every evening and two beers before long, and the Mother knows that. I could become an alcoholic so easily. The Mother’s told me that. Okay here it is: an austerity of every once in awhile has to be followed to the letter, and I will know what that letter is when it comes time for another beer inner contact with the Mother and sincere.
Can I get you a train? She’s here for all of us, and she’s right there with the plan for your sadhana. The divine mother she is. Expanded so after death, became that omniscient being as far as we’re concerned sadhaks of the Integral Yoga. She’s our Shakti. She’s our boss. She’s such a loving mother, incredibly above cars, and you and me are a car takin’ our yoga down the street. My job these days get that yoga goin’, by principlin’ it in myself every time I turn around, using myself as the chopping block. I try everybody. It’s not like I always succeed, but I’m the Yoga speaking about itself. Will you give me the time of day? Thank you.
The Mother waits for integral understanding, move this yoga down the road. Am I just a blight on y’all’s ears? Correction. I have the integral word. Will you hear it? You mean practice? If you could do it. Okay this is the church process. No, it’s everything that touches you throughout the day. It gets bigger you understand, a divine process. That’s an integral arrangement.
Gonna application in the very spots that give you problems, and you’ll get better at it every day, with many drawbacks, even goin’ backwards. It’s piecemeal with sudden starts into a brand new day. Ever the horizon waits for you to arrive, and another horizon comes into view, day after day after day. You just integral see you’re comin’ together on the plan, and it’s all comin’ home to yah now you get better at it.
Enjoy yourself some, yeah sure. Vital letting the hair down puts this yoga in perspective, and sometimes it’s not even wrong. I can’t rulebook. This is as plastic as infinity, and all your nature’s on the line, learnin’ how to control itself, learnin’ how to be made right, learnin’ the way to go. It doesn’t happen all at once. It’s a blind see in the very beginning, a hope and promise in the middle, a really coming unto yourself a divine keeper as you arrive. Awesome the world looks, and it’s not your master anymore.
Can I glide here? This is where every minute counts. This is where you have to do it or die. This is what you’ve all built up to, and you really pull it together here, with the Mother’s help, and it is always there, the Mother’s see.
All I know is that cat, she gets and spites you, that muse of creation, but I didn’t close this poem off to the public. This better be good. Because I struggled with the Mother in writing for years, her presentation on paper, the discrepancy between that and the Mother that was guiding me, and I’m not the only one. She’s soft and warm, but she’s fierce in her picture. She can sound so ego in the things that she said. She can sound ridiculous a time or two, like she wasn’t grounded in reality, especially near the end. Her obsession with truth for example, would if you’re hiding Jews?
Somethin’ happened to her later in life. She became obsessed with questions that body of hers could not answer. She wanted immortality that the body wrote, and she left Sri Aurobindo’s teachings, here and there, in the yelp of her cells, a sadhana so perilous, she almost lost her mind. She gave Satprem a golden key to screw up the Yoga after she died, with the transformation of the cells what the Yoga now means to so many in Auroville and around the world.
She set him up for failure, and we could not ignore him, she put so much attention into him, and we need to ignore him. He was an egoistic maniac. And what of Pranab, did you ever meet ‘im? A hateful man. The Mother chose him to be her guardian, and we’re left with his legacy today. What a hateful ashram we have. I’m dealin’ with that now. My little boy makes ‘em mad, bein' with a White man, and they’ve been mean to him. I can’t write poems there now.
Do you know what the Mother said about music? Narad was gonna bring down the new music, and he tried and tried. There was no understandin’ what the new music was, but it’s basically music played or sung to you on the inside, and you’re open to supramental life. Narad didn’t get that. He was not a vehicle to get there. Ananda Reddy was given a mandate to spread Sri Aurobindo’s gospel, make it understandable to men. He’s tried and tried. Thinks he’s done it from what I understand. He’s gotten the Yoga off track and is not open to the Mother. He hates me, and Narad won’t speak to me, ever. What do you do with that? You call it ill will.
We’re left with the Mother speaks, and that was not always correct. Can we find our way around that? I have. I’ve confronted it head on. I’ve seen behind the veil, and I understand the Mother in time. They said if you saw her you would understand. She was more than human. I’ve questioned so many people about that. Her presence caused people to wonder if not God had filled the room. Did you know she slapped a little girl across the face? I heard it from her brother himself. He witnessed it, was a kid too. She got mad at the child and hit her, and no one said a word. It was at a function and the child misbehaved, nothing major.
Was that the first time? Why did I hear about it? I would imagine you haven’t. That about wraps it up, the last image I want you to see, to understand the Mother was wrong sometimes in her earthly embodiment. A Yoga of Self-Perfection she wore she didn’t live up to, never mind the Goddess behind the frame. She told us to be perfect, and we can’t, not at least from day one. I’m finished, a poem so real on itself fulfills the time on the Earth.
What came first the chicken or the egg? Why the egg of course. Auf wiedersehen. Is this is a prompt? It’s skyward license. I’m on the way up. This will shake your world, and I’m a pied piper— hey everybody let’s go. You’re sterile wars today. I’m gettin’ there. I have an honest day’s work. My hat grows today Supermind. It’s Supramental Darshan at the ashram of Sri Aurobindo and inside the whole world. Comes once every four years, leap year.
Did I shake you some? Nobody’s doin’ it today, where Supermind’s concerned. It’s a blow out the top of your head, on the top of the world, beyond the universe. It’s a station up there, who you are inside beyond all the lives. It’s God up there, on His first row. We get bigger God. You identify with You. You’re there, the origin of all your lives, the Being you are in time representing. You are there You.
We come back to this, as our being gets there. I don’t wanna get this wrong. We are representative in time, representative of That, this station above our heads Supermind. It’s a golden foyer open in all its glory. We haven’t gotten to that yet. The Mother released it into the subtle physical. It’s yet to invade matter, but it’s there on our tops, if you’re old enough to get there in wheels of sadhana.
You can experience this, and all the doors you have open to do. They take you by surprise. I’m there I said. Oh no I am not. I’m not even in Silent Mind. I’m sittin’ down on my spool measurin’ sadhana. I let the supramental influence glow, a time or two, throughout my day, because I’ve been up there you see. Right at breaking point, and I beam up there again. Well I can block it all day long. I’m holdin’ myself down. Oh I’m sure your influence has somethin’ to do with it. You don’t put together the world hey look there’s Supermind.
I’m all over this. It’s a supramental thought I write, and I do it damn near every day. The top of my head’s open for to receive. You hear this now. Baby, I’m yours. [line heard sung by Barbara Lewis, line song title] You know how the song goes, “till two and two is three”. I’m a supramental can. I don’t give you the straight shoot the whole cigar. I can’t. I’m in Overmind bundles. I give you some facsimile thereof. I’m talking to you so many think cans an overmental thought wore. I’m not the direct Sun.
I couldn’t even try. We haven’t everglade that yet, the world is open to Supermind, and it writes our poetry. There’s a balance between error and what’s this shit? Okay who corrupted my piece? We are aware of those. Now you wrote the most healthiest thing to say if you were formin’ Supermind to an overmental audience. We’re all overmental today. We are on the plane of the cosmic Gods, anywhere we touch religion and put on spiritual shoes, and Overmind formed civilization, if you didn’t know. That makes us pretty overmental, any way you go.
It confounds the animal, and it makes us man. Did I get that right? Or people I should say. We’re good in it. We’re terrible to people who do not honor civilization. We cut them up in little pieces and feed them to the dogs, even if we don’t love them. Did I just say something wrong? Well the Gods are merciful, but our hands in Their laws carry the day. We just stood there and punished sin, God there or not.
We are overmental beings how we see reality. You don’t see that pole. You don’t even see me an answer to grave letter. I’m an overmental pail, and I see into this matter deeply, sittin’ here open to Supermind, the bad man on Earth. You get bigger God. Not all overmental divinities are open to infinity. I carry the Integral Yoga of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo, and overmental House if you please. They are open to infinity, within infinity, within infinity, and they are open to Supermind. This is a Tamil bakery plan, and it’s all over the place, but Supermind arrived here in the Mother’s plans.
I am the supramental manifestation on Earth. And you would be wrong, if you brooded there. The Mother didn’t manifest Supermind either, where her consciousness was concerned. What am I sayin’? You’d hear me say it. It got on Sri Aurobindo’s tops, but he did not abide there, but he did not manifest it there. He was a supramental being in form only. He didn’t get there. Sudden shoot ups saw him stop in the Supermind, and all the glory he arose. How do I count this to you? Let’s understand it.
Though Sri Aurobindo counts Supermind, we encounter him in Overmind, as our uncle and our sage, as our guide and our teacher. Do you worship this? Do you just sit there and count stars? Supermind’s above us, and we do not get there in overmental ways. I have all these knowledge bits for you to handle. I am not a sudden sit there in everybody’s glee. I tarry you in understanding, because it’s there, Supermind and Supermind realizing on Earth. This is a different mode of consciousness than God on Earth in any form today.
We don’t worship transformation hello God. Supermind grabs us by the arms. No, it doesn’t even call on our tops. It transforms. It doesn’t deity. It’s just itself up there lookin’ down. We look up and meet it, and in that look transform the world.
Do you snake bite? I’m afraid you do there’s no hope for you. Everything’s about vengeance, and even the Gods dry there, in wells of compassion they can’t seem to rise. Where do you go for healing? Can we tell the public you do? This is Supermind’s regard on the world. It heals stuff, transforms its nature. It uses the very stuff of nature to do that. My how amoral this is. Right in nature’s man, it takes a man’s vice and heals him with it, heals him with his sin, changes it, perfects it, gives it divine reason to live, and all the harm has been removed.
Nature won’t allow this in halls of man, and we get stuck there, not knowin’ what to do. Oh it seems us right to punish. Punish harder take out the stinger it is believed. Can I get you there? It doesn’t work. Throw a gay off a roof, and you have a dead gay. Who has healed homosexuality? Oh if I said pedophile you would agree— kill the son of a bitch.
What do we do now? Give God the plan. In sudden moments of universe, I’m on my tops now, basking there. You’re there with me, not all smiles. My God the forms of this world, they carry you to Supermind, and they’re right there on our tops, changing forms. Do you see the God inside? I can’t pronounce it none. It’s where we get bigger, lookin’ at the world through formless eyes, letting the world get bigger than her visage, seeing behind the form God.
You can’t let a thang trip you up. Nothing can get in your way. You are bigger than the world you see, and you find Supermind there, behind the forms. It’s been here all along, is the ground of everything really, is where creation starts, in the supramental pail we are. Supermind’s the ground of being, as far as we’re concerned. It’s what gives intelligence to matter, is the look that set the stars to light. We see it blossom in a flower, so insects will eat it, and pass their honey round. It’s the arrangement of things. It’s starred everything to a certain hour.
It has no business here, as interferers. We can’t pray to it and get it to act. It’s bigger than the Gods. It has no fetters the conditions of the universe impose. It’s here I said, in sudden storms, not as a God acting, as time being, since it’s the nature of things. Can you get this? Would you believe it’s here now, a time born storm?
The Mother and Sri Aurobindo arise its fountain on Earth, not as Gods, as the beings they are, set to this task. You wouldn’t worship them there, but they’re aligned with Earth to see this through, and they’ve picked a pedophile to bring it to you. Do you see Supermind? You can’t know its formula, unless you do. Transform the nature of the Earth, can you get a better man than pedophile to reveal what needs to be changed? And he is not the revealer. You are. My God the piles of wood we’ve chopped and stacked today. Do you see them?
I’m there, right around the corner from you, and we’ll meet soon, as the glory finds us. You hear me people? What do I say but WHAM! It is the nature of things, the supramental manifestation.
The title to the above poem came several feet from entering Sri Aurobindo’s room at the ashram in Pondicherry, India. I had completed the poem waiting for the room darshan outside, writing it all day, both at home where I live in the country and in the city, driving in traffic and sitting at various businesses and at the central park. The last line came when I arrived at the ashram in the late afternoon.
Grace is the next world’s railways. We will be happy there. What stark sun is this? Sometime soon. Your energy is a witness to it. You’ve combined the opposites, and it doesn’t bother you. Asiya attests to that. You were soft ice cream, and he ate it up. You’ve got the leeway, and you’re holdin’ down the fort. You’ve good. You’re learnin’ your trade. You’re doin’ it great football fields wide. You’re not a son of a bitch. Let’s bubble up some and just sit in bed and bask awhile.
We build yellow houses. We construct them with wood. Then we lay them down, over and over again. This is our construction process on the bails of thought. We feel them into being. This rides our day, one thought after another, day by day. It’s ice cream. Did somebody say favorite food?
We are housed here, and a thought is a mop bucket, cleaning out what’s after. A thought is a huge thing, all naked and wood. It’s already occurred before we think it out. We go over it and over it. We do not stop. We never go away from this. Bails upon bails of thought we make, freight trains through our minds. Let go of this, and you’ll be in thin wood. You’ll cake on yourself. It’s where the balls are that we retrieve into Silent Mind.
Now here’s the house God lives, you see the Self in. It’s awesomely deep, wrapped around with nothingness, where the engines of the universe play. You are a copter upon yourself, brooding wings of infinity. It lasts an hour or a day, until it turns off no more. I arrive at thought the master of the plan. I think upon myself in large ways. I go there: I don’t handle thought for a little while.
But Silent Mind don’t ride my days. I’ve stumbled upon it a time or two. We have to be clear we were formin’ enlightenment. Have you ever had that thought? Grapple with it now. Do you know it’s there what we arrive to next in our identity plan? Hey kids this is not enlightenment. We’re becoming something you see, and we need Silent Mind to get there, a formless identity we shoulder to Supermind, the God inside. An overhead kingdom sits there, and this is the fullness of ourself, God identity, at this stage of the game. You can imagine more.
So where does Silence put us? Right slap dab in the middle of it. And then? We plant our feet on planet Earth, and Supermind comes down to meet us at the ascending pole of our effort. Then we’re cosmic complete, bigger than the cosmos, not in size in weight. We are the springboards of the universe. The universe comes from us. I’ve been there once. I’m not just makin’ up plans.
Did I have to say all this to get your head straight on Silence? I don’t think you understand me. I’m bleeding concepts in the room, like cosmic means somethin’. Where do you go on Silence? A round chair, and so many people just sit there. Who wants to go higher? Bliss is satisfied. Do you want to go higher? Ramana Maharshi didn’t. We all do eventually. When you learn about it it’s there, a belief castle. Before that no one’s ever heard about it. I’m taking you there, balloons overhead, Somethin’s up there you know. It’s the origin of the universe. Said it all.
Don’t forget your ambition for thought. You wanna get into the Silence. You wanna dip your head into the Silence. Catch it, you’re gonna hit the ground of the universe a hat infinity. Now that red apple pierces your skull vibratory nature. You hum big church all around your brow. It’s so comfortable there and smooth. No I with its busy notions disturbs that room, not a thought one. You’re reside in silence. This is awesomely big. You can’t figure it out from here. It’s totally other being inside a body here on Earth.
You last awhile, and then the cosmos lapses into itself. You’re there yet? You will be once. You’ll get there soon. It’s every death journey’s hand. We take off the ego you know and get down to science. It’s what we do there. It comes along to take us to Heaven and beyond, and you think it’s a stranger? We’ve sauced this out so many times, death, upon death, upon death. We’re there now underneath it all. It’s raw, basic awareness, cosmic size.
Now why have I shown this to you? You think AI will get you there? Where do we put Silence on? In our own room, a listen to ourself, no bowls of media present. Do you know how precious this is, guided by your own mind? It’s stage one. Come on mountain let’s go.
Now in the vibration room each vibration opens a little central veeter that respond directly to sunlight. Okay, okay, okay, look I get it. Almost reaction, because I’m slaying. You don’t know this stuff. It looks easy, if you vie for it, but let’s face it this is tops that a human could do, your golden Mars, but they lost this and ruined their civilization. How hard it is, you got nothin’ harder in human.
To know directly, what do we see? Obviously it’s not videos. It’s contemplation’s circle, there in your room, when you’re filmin’ God. Where do we begin? The first photo please. A beggar down and out on reality’s pole. You see from there what God looks like, and He would not be tall and kind. He would be a braggart in His room. We don’t stop the vision there. That man don’t see straight. He has eyes of sufferin’.
Lift God up from there. Are you okay with what He does to people? Are you okay with this vice? I couldn’t back up to you God. I couldn’t stand in His way. The significance of beggars breathes awhile. We can’t get at it there. We can’t even try. Let’s beanpole reality, and it gets bigger all the time. Let’s do something about it. Let’s see God there addressing Himself.
Is that okay? We’ll be building a teenager. We’re gonna get him all soft in his room to carry the day. We’re gonna wean him some, from do this for him do that, so he can carry the divine. We will be gentle with him and put him on his own attention, where he needs to be more than computers handles and where the cellphone rides. This is not ice cream and cake. We will pill him with just enough books to get his writing going. He’s a poet of the divine, gets whole poems from the inner voice. We were surprised as he was.
Now we have a responsibility to see this through. My consciousness opened his. We’re everlastin’. That means we give this boy a good shot to grace him with infinity and keep his eyes on God, not the stuff in his room. I’m right there by ‘im, holdin’ his hand. A Green Beret on duty, I’m a sergeant sometimes, but I’m not mean. I can certainly improve. Now let’s stand down the poem I’m giving you. It means somethin’ to the order of the day. God bless you.
Watched this film, and then the second poem came, the long one, an hour after, and it came all night.
The Banality of Evil, We’re Watchin’ a Different Movie
This is grand cinema. You’re left wonderin’ over its price. Are you opened to that puppy? Just to the pain it caused. Just to its wherewith with evil. We need more from cinema, powerfully done. I’m the long ride. I’ll get you there on sudden bleeds: you will identify with the snake, or your heart pounding no. I heal awhile. Listen to me.
To Heal Holocaust
Heal God. Boy God has done some bad shit, if we count Him responsible for everything, if we say He’s the doer here. How do we get round this table? And now the poem starts. Let’s write it.
You must know into the most horrible places. I’ve climbed down there and got burned. I can identify with the snake. I’ve opened Holocaust doors by beer-bottlin’ a boy. He cried and then got tough. I hit him again and again with that beer yard, two or three boys.
It didn’t make me throw up. I took pleasure from their pain. The control I had, I was in their control room and I knew it. Their weakness turned me on, their vulnerability. I liked it.
This is a Holocaust memorial. It’s not me writin’ on myself. I showin’ where it came from, that and a knife blade. These smites transform into big smites, transform into Holocaust. I'm helpin' you some. I’m going ludicrous. I’m just stupid sayin’ this.
Let’s change poems. What do you feel when you hurt people, your power over them? No you feel your delight that it’s not you. We’re explorin’ some. It’s a probe. Not every formula has got this written on it, but somethin’ happened to you, when you could not fight back, too little to do anything about it. It scarred you. Now you’re investigatin’ that reality, and it’s your hands cause pain, your thrust of life.
This is not healin’ you’re doin’. You just keep doin’ it, a wack in reality that repeats itself, with your hands. What do you do to stop? I can’t get yah there. It’s too wide open. Jeffery Dahmer pulled the plug. Then he started killin’ again. You didn’t know he suffered. You didn’t know he didn’t turn that down, his longness in the inner cycle. Where do we go for change? Wrapped up in an investigation of yourself, you open the inner doors.
Really watch yourself in dream. The plug will come up. You’ll eventually pull it the right way. You just keep erasin’ mood, that spell that comes over yah when you’re around water, when you’re at that place you can do it. This is your fault line, and it’s inner sprung.
You’ve got to get ahold of your behavior, on the inside where it starts. This ain’t hard/this is not easy. [two above phrases heard spoken simultaneously] You’ll see how it’s done in your visual immune system. Message, it will message you. It gives a little chance for you to aim behavior rightly.
You’ve got to get ahold of the bull. You’ve got to grab it by the horns. I took years here, in Holocaust denial. It’s when you begin to see it it’s the hardest. You can’t close the curtains, even when you do it. You can touch it and move it around. You’re puttin’ light down there. This is not about feeling guilty. This is about recognizing pain.
What is true remorse? You feel pain buddy, making other people suffer, but you’re still not in the geography bowl. Look on these two: the ordination of love, and the realizing of oneness. How deep you have to go to get there, how much time pass.
This is integral healing. I know someone that can’t even rise a fantasy. The light got down there. You feel the vulnerability of the other, and you just want to hold them in your arms safe. You can believe you did that. You can see yourself doin’ it, not playin’ it in your mind, I mean it had sergeant over you before, but you’re at peace with it, and you put it out of your room.
We have no laws for this. We’re not ready to find it. There are too many of us to make it safe. It’s good for the environment. I wasn’t so bad I chained people. I was a love roll. I know you don’t understand this. The assurities of Adolf Hitler, that was absurd, and afterwards so complex. It was positively brilliant. Wow, you said brilliant. We would eat lunch there. I’m not bragging it. I’m not starring it. Nobody has a secret weapon to find change in these dark waters.
I’m putting a healing light to it, using my own brand. You don’t know the fashion of evil. You think it comes from us. Its dark nature rises from the Abyss. There are creatures there on a beanpole, with tremendous might, that invade our dreams and conscious minds, and tell our hearts to do things. They are compulsion’s will, and they are smarter than us. Oh my God they’re there, right in our room, pushing us to fall.
What do you do with that? Where do you put it? They don’t give up, and we have to put up with them, on our world endeavor. That’s not fair. It’s not even funny. It’s a stark reality we have to live with. So when you’re coming out of darkness, you’re confronting these, the Snake in your room.
Oh my God they are blind, the ones who hate you for the evil you have done. They’re just self-righteous idiots, and they will see when this is done, when their life’s over, the complexities of fate, the manage devils in your room, the horrible nature of reality in its bottom lair.
We have to contend with this to overcome fate. We cannot escape it. I’ve mentioned the ballgame, what we’re really here for, to change our nature into God dwellers, to spiritualize, divinize, Nature. I’ve pulled the rank card, and you are blind to this. It’s too big. It’s the science of changing your nature, and your own process will see that glory immune system, the one I talk in visions and dreams, the one I talk now. It holds your hand here, and now we are complete: God heals.
Yawn as you snap them Gods. They wouldn’t know what to do with Themselves free. We see Them bound to our lives in cosmic grooves of fate. They are larger than time. They can’t get out of this. We are prisoners in Their room. They study us. They can’t seem to get us right. We’re a whirlwind in a thunderstorm, and They are stillness and delight, and They control themselves with might. The clash of Speakers we hear overhead, They’re around about us now.
We are cosmic poles in Their existence. Hear Them call our name. Hear Them be there for us to change our natures into man. If you don’t think you’re an animal look back now, where you meet nature in a click that eats up all of nature’s stores, and then you go to war. You’re a forest dweller in the nature of your desires. You can’t see past get up and go. The Gods are there on our tops, guiding us to better cages. They do not know the freedom of the Infinite. In a paradox of know, They stumble upon the Infinite and stretch it to tin cans.
The Gods they wore, the bright and start of old. They can’t seem to find the Infinite all their knowledge bore. They cut us in creeds of certain flesh. Religion bore that name. The Gods have bound us to this. They are a soliloquy on our tops, giving us lore. I can’t find this improving our lives. They are a reason against the Snake, but where they find you biting, They are blind to heal you. They just make you stop. They don’t know the deeper reasons of life’s coil.
They are not there you see here on life’s base encased in matter. They see us from afar up close. They do not understand the knot and waste. They live out Their lives in splendid heavens, traveling toward infinity, the kingdom of God, all righteousness and wrath. They sip with us awhile foundering on compassion. They are brave and strong and know not the poison of the fall. Evil is not on Their lists. It baffles Them and us. They chase it out of night. They battle it with Their spears and helmets on the patchwork of the universe.
We are Their hope and promise to principle evil and grab it by the horns, a victory for starry Earth. A seer in his wisdom has gift the Gods to us, else we would fall into the Void. This is not our fate, but we are beyond the Gods on our journey home. They are a regulation and a might to keep us from starring ourselves, to keep us from getting bigger than our lists, to keep us from operating on ourselves where They are concerned. They are both a help and a hindrance. We need Them. No we don’t. They help us get hold of ourselves. They keep us from going home.
We just changed fate and the world, without Their interference, where They languish on land. We’re here. They’re not. Beyond space and time we write our lists. The Gods can’t go there, unless they do as one of us. That’s a starry role, fraught with peril, fraught with mercy. This is an endeavor for the Gods only if They want to go beyond Their starry heaven. We don’t see Them do that none time soon. The Earth’s great spiritualization will see Them incarnate here. It’s a vehicle of Supermind.
The tallest bond, this is the engine we’ve all been waiting for. It’s bigger than the sky. It’s our next step above, beyond the Gods. These are our evolutionary springs and their destination. We have broke the bounds of the universe and come to universal cause. No cosmic God can figure this. This is a whole other ballgame. These are universal bonds the conditions of the universe find us in. They prefigure us to a certain stage. This is starry night, and the Gods are our guides the conditions of the universe impose. This is our starry prison.
A nursery rhyme is this. We live on high, who we are above the universe, our next prefigured destiny. The Gods are aware of this. They are not our goads there. They hinder us and move us in Their direction. This is a starry configuration we are lost in. Greater home is ours. Can you save the Gods? I wouldn’t even find you there. The Gods are cosmic hierarchies permanent in Their heavens, and They love it here, all-powerful Beings with worlds to play. We applaud Them and move on.
Can you see this? It’s what we’re doin’ on planet Earth. We will bring our higher selves here to inhabit bodies on physical Earth, our bodies, in evolution’s slow curve. Who we are on high will be who we are down below, the monumental change hidden in the size of Earth. We will get there, and existence will have its heaven right here. Will you notice this in your room? It’s starting on our tops now, and here I am showin’ it to yah in sudden starts. Greatness lies wait. Okay, global consciousness, and we’ve found our solution to the room, present Supermind.
These are the high stakes. We’re in the water now. Who we gonna tell? Come on kids let’s go. We have a world to feel. Keeps yah on your toes. This is the most important thing to hold onto to: challenge the window. We don’t beg each other’s fences. Here everybody that’s a whole Earth. The lesson in the window: through a big difference we see it all.
Bring in a new game. How was Earth made? It has a special core, the universal core. How do we evolve what do we evolve? We can hack other Minds. Clarity Grace is not just a name. It’s an power, one of a kind for Earth. Kings are not just patriots. They’re criminals in their own kind. We should put some cushions under the Earth. We just dream of a perfect life. [the above verse Nithish’s muse, my 12-year-old grandson, what he heard right where mine left off, ending this poem. He’s named his new Beagle puppy Clarity Grace.]
The universe has hit me, and we saw it happen the universe of Nithish, not quite done. You’ve gotta figure we’ve got a friend with some God, the cosmic hierarchies Mother and Sri Aurobindo. You’ve got to figure we’re in liaison with some God. It’s the mailman in a blue truck open to Supermind at every pole.
Nithish and I taking a selfie together for this poem
This poem was written for the trustees of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry, India, and was given to them the only way correspondence can be, if you are not an ashramite or someone they know, by giving it in an envelope to Mr Puru at the photo room adjacent to the Samadhi, and whether or not he will pass it on is entirely up to him. The Samadhi is the tomb of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo, where people come to sit, meditate, and pray, which is located at the ashram.
We met these tomfooleries. Do you ever look at your own car? Can you be a better sadhak in wood, a better disciple of Sri Aurobindo? I lunge there: I spend my day in total concentration. This is a farmer on my land. I really till the soil. The concentration comes and goes, but it’s picked up time and time again. It’s fits and starts, all day long.
Can you be a better sadhak of Sri Aurobindo? I’m burnin’ on that ground. I clear my mind and find it’s there, for few certain minutes. Can we come back to this? I always do. I am disciple of Sri Aurobindo that always hears words my inner ear hears. I write them down through a voice recorder. My God I’m a seer someone said. No one’s said this yet. I’m just this guy with wood, if you see me on the street, held by my little boy.
He’s white and I’m black, as society sees us, an easy lesson in symbols if you hear. What color am I with him? I am navy green. That means he’s safe with me. What a spectacle for a pair of eyes. The racial mix’s intriguing, on the bandwidth of ourself. Don’t doctor this up. We’ve got infinity going for us, racin’ around, a whole field show. We do sadhana together. I be his teacher.
He’s not cloven foot. He stands on his sadhana too, a kid in grace and poise. Okay stand back. Here’s where we differ. Open the inner consciousness child. Reach in there and find soul. Open up in vision God. The Mother and Sri Aurobindo take those places so many times in his dreams and visions, and in his understanding of God. A child’s understanding basks in time. No matter, they are his guides and goads.
He’s opened the inner consciousness, and his poetry would map our Earth, if we but could give it time to breathe. School shoves it down his throat: hey kid, study for your exams? An exam is a holdover from the last institution: caveman you gotta learn this mile; it’s survival of the fittest. My God the lists against this kid are strong. It’s a wonder he’s even doing it, bein’ a vehicle of the inner voice. The inner lines are strong.
I know the doubt and fear cast on this. You would only see to know. His latest poem I include at the back of this email. His latest voice I include. We measure this by the strength of his ego. That’s not fair. A little kid’s sense wrote this.
Now here we are sittin’ at the back of this ego. And we mention the poet. I’m in the poem you see. Now listen to a story. I’ve given my kid the voice recorder. He might get a line. We are at the opposite pole of the Samadhi from the crowd. I’ve never sat there before. I'm with my other student Mithun, who hears inner music. I don’t got no more students but them.
A band plays. I hear the line “Ice cold Samadhi” just given into my inner ear, but my boy’s got the voice recorder occupied, whisperin’ in two lines of his own: “Rechargeable minds here, Olympus.” Here’s where it gets weird. Someone not connected with the Samadhi watch, not a staffer there, or so I think not, gets an eye on the voice recorder, walkin’ by the mountain. “Gimmie that.” No polite words were spoken, no considerations one, no respect none.
It’s here you’re doin’ sadhana, when somebody pops yah. All the gold comes out. I’m sorry to say none of mine did. In the ensuing conversations with this person and that, I just defended myself, and my boy there. I did not do what I was supposed to do: not react, but I didn’t tell one person off. I kept reaction out of my voice, to the degree anger and ill will I didn’t let show.
This I was careful to do. No one heard me. No one said a word. You know how this is gonna be reported: that son of a bitch lied and stole. You will believe your people, of course, but all things show themselves in time, and no one will be able to lie then, together or apart.
I’m left with a voice recorder I’ve used there now many years. I’ve written poems from that Samadhi, framed one and gave it to yah, “The Rotisserie of God”. No one has ever copied me, the reason I was told I couldn’t do it: everyone will. You think I’d of been discovered by now if it were a ruckus, but I can bring a pencil and paper if you insist. That leaves me with gold they will take from me there, when I come to pray. We will check you now every time. You know when a threat’s spoken. It’s the hatred in their eyes. We will harass you every time you come here. Can this not be what they really said?
Well Savitri asks for boons, from the spectre death. I’m not gonna ask for the blind to see. I’m just a sadhak not Savitri, but I hear you call my name, and can I write poetry sir on my voice recorder at the Samadhi? Well, I’ll wait. Now here’s the one I’m worried about. Can I enter the ashram gates without bein’ harassed? I’ll bring pencil and paper sir, until you tell me otherwise. No hidden cameras to record my voice I’ll wear. Do we have a deal?
Trustee please, are you spiritual? This is a Samadhi question. I live there in my heart all the time. I react, sure, but I’m there, and I live in vision. I see the world before my eyes a thing under creation. It’s being made right now. I hear this in vision, and you did too. “Ice cold Samadhi” means it was a frigid place emotionally, and where was this? It was in the situation I described. These men were ice cold, no warmth at all in their voice or in their eyes. Immediately they rose to anger, all riled upon themselves, and I’d had prevision of this, in that line of muse, just before it started.
The world rose there, before my very eyes, and I only saw it after it was over. Could help then? Well it sure helps in our conversation. I don’t think those men gathered the future before it happened. They were not focused and gathered. All came to put that foreigner in his place, like their reaction was natural the order of the day, like they weren’t doing sadhana. They acted like the inner voice had no place in Sri Aurobindo’s yoga. It was wrong.
Can I tell you something else? Well, my inner voice was right on. I forgot to tell yah… Some people say no I just made a mess. He wants to go over it look— my muse on where I’ve been. I’ve been to the moon and back, if you’re listenin’ to muse, and I’ve danced with the military on tactical nukes, a U.S. special forces commando. I’ve been in the heart and breath stop in Silent Mind, that hurried glance, and I saw the Gods in their tiers in Overmind, and on a rim of dreamless sleep, dived into the well of soul. Would you believe in overhead? The consciousness raises up there, like several meters, and there you find Supermind. Makes for a lot of poetry. Brief glimpses all, but I’ve seen what I’m sayin’.
I can go round about the world a penniless vagabond— 27 countries in 10 years. Do you have that faith? I don’t think you even learned Classical Greek. Translate Euripides into English verse, and you’ll gather strength in poetry. You also get good at it, in time. Took me 25 years, even after I started hearin’ it.
Now can we define the future poetry? The future’s got that in hand. I don’t understand. I’ve heard the future call my name, and you won’t show this to anyone? Paper airplanes every poem I’ve made? Make or break yah, these are not conventional teeth. Are you open to the divine? Candywood make or break yah, what you hear on the internet today.
I’m sorry I took it up, the internet speaker. I get laughed at and lauded. The latter’s not louder, but they’ve gotta eat too, the people on there for the breeze, and I might be seen soon by a pitchfork and a vital that hate me so much I go viral. Look there’s nothing in them, the threats I face today. The rotating officer is not interested in me. I’m not hurtin’ anybody. I’m not doin’ anything wrong. Now you’re starrin’ me, at your look see.
Oh well, do it to her face okay? Get another bad piece from her. You gave her a poem that said she needed to work on it, humanity’s tiger. Do people really wanna act like that at the ashram? A boy his hair, that’s what he does. I thought you’d notice they walk silly. Good idea, I’m talking about being human kind and loving to all who enter your gates.
You’re gonna have to, whadda you do? Really buckle down and be good to people, and her hair could be picked up too, and she could focus and concentrate, breakin’ along can reality period, yeah, yeah. Global, I even ask you to global change. Here it is you have a mirror. There’s broad stroke said it. There’s the yoga. Everybody makes mistakes. Would you offer this to the Mother?
Opening up kids, I agree with you. We don’t block them from society. We fathom them God. We don’t fathom them school. And they become there, on the journey to God a society rose. What do we hope by it? We get bigger than ourselves. His heart, a little boy rises his soul. A little boy rises I’ve been meanin’ to tell you. The expectation’s not the kid. It’s the consciousness. What’s this mountain? You wanna bring God into the world.
I tried to do a little explainin’ on boyness and the nature of man, on bein’ human. We are here for this. We need all our strength. Practice is another suite. Send it sweet. Did you get everybody put in this spirit? It takes the world to make it up. Blown up yeah. We made it here, in this section, to the touch of a magazine. Everything’s online, and this will be too, now or never.
Do you understand the flavor here? That’s the flavor of change. That’s the flavor of Harm’s End. These are bunk beds, and we live here, grandfather and his grandson you keep hittin’ at. Did I mention Douglas? Puts together his life with the Mother. A house is not complete without dogs, and we have four. They are the love of our life.
Our friend is on the roof, Narasimha, protecting my house if you should try to take me down. I don’t die. A divine worker is protected. This is what I’m aiming: the life divine. So much power, you’ll have instructions. May God bless you.
Your outer form was carried right. We are not derelicts or sinners. We are safe and sound. I’m will extra deep, alright? Okay, you have been warned. You don’t mess with divine protection, but are you really mean-spirited? Does the Mother cross your brow if you should hate someone? Okay your character’s on the table now. May you wish blessings for all. May you really hold the Mother’s hand.
I bear you no ill will. I’m not in a campaign to smear your name. I’m doin’ what I’m supposed to be doin’, here writing you a poem, now doing sadhana. I’ve changed the ticker tape in his life, that kid. Am I glad he met me with the divine. I’ve met you that way. That’s the story. Oh wait a minute daddy I wanna fix my lunch, one second. A purity of kid rose, a gracious cartoon. Now let’s survive this and become better friends.
You know it’s there, the fact of your will or consciousness behind a lesson. Okay, noted. Well it will transfer that it was made by the foreigner. Okay, spit on ‘im. I don’t think so. Your thought process in relation to your thoughts, and you pick them up randomly? Now that’s got uncle and brother, your bigger clothes, without AI. I’m here to help.
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.
In and out cars, this one got longer hair. I’ll print the trailer one horse at a time. In the first poem, [link] the codpiece is about enlightenment. We need our system’s input, and we are too skeptical for God in our lives. The horse and pony show makes us system mean. We rob flowers, in all department stores. Terrible consequences for wood. We get ostracized and banished from society, and this is kingdom hall. We bleed and we say grace in the wrong movement. Can you discover this?
It chops us in half, with special counsel. You fool erase that paint. I have to rein it in. Crash on symbols. Let me monopolize ages of reason. That’s think tank in our purple yard. It’s expensive to have sex the behavior is wrong, and that is defined culturally, in sudden kingdoms. I’m a Mastodon that lost its way in heavy equipment. Society won’t forgive me for that, and it only knows the spell of society. Can you gauge that?
We pour out morality on our sleeve. We bury there all our common sense. Hallelujah I’m saved, says the Christian in the room, and society’s muffled because of that, as Christians enter the Legislature and take over government in halls of America. A thousand and one evils, they all blow up on society in a Christian yard. It helps itself to the wrong measure of man. We are so much more than behavior and bended miles.
We can’t see straight. We can’t even look. We’re confounded by time. They study us, all these wrong people in the room, the ones who think they know the right and have their hands on power. They wanna move us outta here, where we pinpoint the throes of man. You can’t lick this chocolate. It’s time on Earth is few. Everybody knows the dance, but no one knows the realization that we are loftier than our species, that we can make it right, one society at a time. This is certain gold.
We are all cattle and sheep, unwilling to find the destination of man. We think it’s a religious figure or an atheist’s technology that tries to play God. Can you character here, find the Sun? We revel in sweetness, then shoot it down with our guns. I don’t think we know what innocence is. It’s cropped out in school, and we lament the loss of innocence in children, and we stand there and rob it from them in the harmful environment of school, and we wanna make it harder, put them in there longer. Can you see this? This is the greatest fire on Earth, makes society a slave model and pits us against one another.
Have I reached the end of this talk on climate change? It’s not felled trees I’m talkin’ about or branded water, or the warmin’ skies. Can we get down to business and do the Earth? Can we see past our little lives? Can we see the bigger ship that man is and will become? How do you land down here? We have to get right with one another, and that’s our climate change. If we are going to get bigger than ourselves, we’d have to see importance in every man, woman, and child. No one is discounted. We come together on love, in every set of circumstances, unless we have to stop killin’ and people in the violent act. We have to be strong and swift for that. Then love finds us again healing lives.
This will give us breathin’ room to discover ourselves. Without this no one’s there, except the few who manage to escape society’s bellows. Where have I placed you? Where we need to go. Where we need to be. Can you refuse this? Most people will. Necessity will bring us to it in the eventful years ahead. I’m a blueprint magazine, and I have my windward sail, and you know I’m here.
I felt the wind blows. How to translate our lives a meaning shifting. You can’t ground it good. You can’t even spell it out. Where does it come from? Where is it going? It’s larger than space and time. We have our supernal roams. This give rise to these, the worlds, and we know you’re in there Mr. Nithish. It comes close to the bottom and close to the top, but a world is a beanpole. We stargaze there. We champion our own rounds. Oh come on come up.
How do you handle a hungry man? With patience and loving-kindness, unless you need to shoot ‘im, ‘cause he’s in our garden. I’ve just mentioned to you the problem. We don’t know when to quit. Our lives are in danger here, but defend ourselves means this: too much overkill. And what do you want? I’m sorry I’m backin’ off. Let’s make this count. We don’t have to be at the dinner table in the substance of our lives. We can be bigger than kin and they all wear my face. Humpy Dumpty sat on a wall.
But we’re relieved to find we are on our way, once we know how to get movin’. You there, will you just sit there and smile? The fear of death join our room. Can we back up this yard? We’ve got a whole lot to loud out, and it’s time we did not let the fear of death stop us. Who lands this creek? You’ve got to get up and get moving, knowing death is always there circling you and the lives of your loved ones. Accept death hell, we’re gonna learn to change it a long time in the future. Meanwhile, we don’t let it stop us from getting bigger than ourselves.
Oh my goodness wide movement. Morality will help you there, but it’s not the goal. We live and die: oh you’re bad temple will cook, because it’s not your religion anymore the church seat. Let’s gold bottom’s up. Where Douglas? We’ve reached stars, all over ourselves. We review the Sun, the gold I was speaking of. Can you hear it? It’s right there on the tail end of this poem. Let’s get busy with it, gettin’ the strength to see it. I give you links, the bread and butter. Let’s copy this on one another: I love you.
You want to recognize you’re there dead. You can’t take a worldview. You’re not operating in that anymore. You’ve just died. This is serious business. It’s a wake-up call on the other side. The enormity of the shock takes your breath away. You’re just stunned, not knowing what to do.
Where is Jesus? Where’s the stars? No religion has showed up yet. You’re on your own, transitioning. It hurts. It’s just simply awful. You can’t stand it. You don’t want to be there. You don’t know how to be there. There’s no instruction manual. You’re dead.
But life has just begun, the dead life on the other side. You cry out for help. Someone hears you. Are they the right one? You don’t know how to do it, receive them. You’re just so confused. You open the door to faith. What you believed in on Earth has not abandoned you, and if you didn’t believe in anything, it comes now.
It’s tall and strange. This is not what you expected. It receives you one moment/limit at a time. [above words heard spoken simultaneously] You are not automatically taken in. You’re put up with. You’re just a person there to process. The compassion of the angels shows in fits and starts. You’re a long ways off from being received on their condition. You’ve got to glow first.
Bad times ahead, as you encounter what tripped you up on Earth, what got your goat, what you couldn’t handle, what you refused to see, what you licked and swooned over, what you didn’t know hurt you. You are put in these situations where you encounter dream. There is no home base anymore, no central mode, but you come back to yourself over and over. That’s your central lair: you are this being in time.
It runs roughshod over you you have to dream on. You don’t like it. It sucks. Slowly you get your feet under yah. You get used to the rhythm of see-saw death. You climb. You step up. You receive them, all these packages of people you knew in life that you made a storybook with. Some of these are reunions. You hold their hand. Some of these are joy-shock. You cling to each other. What we wanted on Earth we get here.
You’re in union. It lasts the length of a cup, and you’ve been given a solid measure, and you are ready to depart for other perfection. You see people there you hated in life or you did under. You do not enjoy this section. It’s compensation. You give them what they need, and you move on.
This is fair and certain: you have your encounters, and they show you life as oneness sees it. You can reject no one, and all morality’s based on this. It is oneness we spring from and what we manage living. We are here to be one. A deeper look arises from our journey. We go the distance to a greater life. A quest of the Spirit pulls on us, and we let it take us in its arms. We are higher now, lighter in spirit. We are so together now, and we’re ready for more.
I’ve taken you there, right to realization’s wings, when you become a ship on the other side sailing into God’s heaven. You’re right there at Heaven’s gates, the heaven of your pearl, the one you sing about to encounter God. You are not all together a central ship. Many heavens receive you, and many positions of Heaven there are.
Now let’s get goin’ towards the realization of life. You can open those doors here and redirect your life, and when you enter death, you are in kingdom. It’s not about dyin’. It’s about being prepared to grow up. We do that here. We do that there. Here counts more than there. Here is the rollercoaster of the fly-room.
These are conscious gates you see. Open up your life here, on this growth, and life will line up to receive you in all of the quests you need. Uncanny this, strong and large. You’re in good hands on this journey to your being’s growth. I’m countin’ it to yah precisely in measure with my life under the sun. I’m a conscious arrangement, and I poetry this to you now. Bombs away. Thank God it’s Friday. Thank God I’m not in your way.
Death’s a cookbook I jargon. I have a bunch of history books repair life. You want to read them now. Come on let’s go to field. I’m a happy bottom death. I’m a joy to the world. Just listen to me sing. I planet with Mr. Rogers, still have his medicine: I really love— bonding agent to the poems I write to you. Take me.
You wanna watch that video or not? It’s limited stairs, but I’ve baked you at hide and seek, and it’s all gone wrong. There is no leeway here. You just wanna get to where you’re goin’, without all the rough stuff. You don’t wanna lollygag. There’s Hell’s kitchen that will not move away from you, if you don’t come to. Where am I? Oh shit you got it. I’ve read your paperwork on that. It’s my own. We have been through these stages so many times. It’s a revolvin’ door. Just listen.
Hullabaloo on your spot, you have to be careful. You haven’t learned my draft yet. I’ve really gotten shadows. Van Helsing, here is monster’s lair, where you find them. Don’t scream yet. They haven’t caught you. Don’t realize your time, they will. Now I’ve put all the poise in, and this poem is right here with the market. How would you find after death?
Dally there coverin’ up our pickup spots. It’s the issue save a Lord. This a mode to deliver God. How does the call center get such a hideous head? Can you hear it’s divine element? Put it in your pipe and smoke it. That’s how we race cars. We local His feet put on, and divine reason we format His being, without that hunch. I don’t say black I say white. That’s not a dirty gun. That’s not a slave our gun. I get to know You. I know you do. Now be quiet. Are You mad at me? Put 10 extra effort, add rifle to your calling card. It’s now clear. Ah, open your eyes. You’re a divine endeavor.
And that’s what we die for. I mean God put us on to be human. I haven’t listened to His music, I haven’t listened to His song, I have to keep dying to put it on, and that’s the guitar, the way we become divine. This is street music. That’s what blesses us everyone. My God I’m arch-pink, and I’ve got subscriptions.
Each thing we revolve around God. This is a vehicle of thought. Wow, we’re in the ways with man. There might be the thought in there you wouldn’t even know exact, but it already fits the handle I have my hands on God. We want to broadcast that to where our being lives in time. We are on the way to Godhood, who we are in time. Bust out usually for lunch, on the wrong and us wanting to survive. We meet that with heroes. We do not let God down. That’s our humanity. I will pick it up one role at a time and deliver it from evil, following God behind the dust.
Death is not an entrapment. We get up by it and fly. We glory it all over us. The 18 store is closed, and we reveal something else. Can we run? We no longer die, just our bodies after a long field put on. We manifest the nature of God, right here on Earth, and we have conquered death and overcome pain, and that’s where we want to go with this. There is no such thing as a void of that, and if I fall short, this will be tied together with real humanism, with my humanity, and I will overcome this obstacle in me and in man.
Okay, email. In fact, put in the right notebook and send it out to the world. Principle the opportunity. Praise the window. It’s still goes into Mind, whether we read it or not on this post. It’s how we survive the culls on thought. It’s how we survive. I’m a limit-book on that. I go beyond the limits.
Thank you for coming you’re across the road, where death is not so bright. We are not in its envelope. It is not our keeper. It’s a son of a bitch. Between love and your loved one there is death. I am sorry this be. We can do nothing about it but die. If death were a person I’d shoot him, gouge his eyes out, but let’s be reasonable about this: the acceptance of death is the acceptance of pain. Death alludes us, will not let us explain reality in terms of trust and love.
Alright it’s there. So be it. Here’s some advice a gravedigger would give you, puttin’ your body to the worms. Bardo, I don’t know, it is a spiritual test, and we grapple with it till kingdom come. That’s the starlight. I’ve spoken death, wonderful news, that we survive its existence. Anybody hungry for oblivion? See you on the other side.
You climb out of sleep into death, and that wakes you up, thank God. Get out of the water, and be calm and clear-eyed towards death. It’s a menacing stair, so necessary to our birth. Taxman that’s true, but there is so much hope in this commercial.
We don’t even know what I did. I’ve raised the sky, took the furious route. I’ve given you diamonds, and I am loathsome to you, a real life pedophile, giving you knowledge in your sleep. What does woke mean? Join us, will yah, in the knowledge that you are one with and wanting to relate to anybody that can be related to, the mechanic’s store, to where we get enlightened, not a thought process a change of consciousness, a complete reversal as a matter of fact, and we see ahead of us divinity.
Put that in your woke starter and smoke it. That’s the system of wokeness. The miracle of other people, do you feel it? It stings sometimes. Take out your woke lists and pick me up. I’ve got a special offer for the people of the entire world. Kinda gets in your guns, doesn’t it.
George de Forest Brush – Orpheus, 1890 (public domain)
This is a poem written to G Surya Prakash Rao, the founder and managing editor of Muse India, an online literary magazine, in regards to their rejection and criticism of Nithish’s poem “Paradise Things With Lyrics”, which was submitted to their online forum Your Space, not to the literary magazine itself. A Twitter/X photo-poem of mine would give more details: “Where Were the Ones That Felt?”
And the poem below was submitted to Muse India for publication, not through their regular channels, directly to the managing editor, as we were having a brief email conversation regarding the boy’s poem. I would gather he doesn’t want to publish the poem below, and that in itself I find remarkable, and you will have to read the poem to find that remarkable too, but the fact that he won’t even bother to tell me, I find that absolutely incredible.
Human civilization is a world apart. I grab you by the poetry today. The overhead music, the overhead town, some suggestions for your unmanageable poetry scheme sir. I speak poetry to your sense of self, and that’s a long ride, half-religion, in the carnival of God. Do you wear zeitgeist on your sleeve, offended if I grab your ass and smile? Man I tell yah where we put poetry today, in the hullabaloo.
You give me 40 lines to tell. How people don’t know it, tellin’ poetry to be quiet is sexual reassignment surgery, cuts its dick off. Well foreign he’s brave. That room is shocked. That room is sorry. This one here, what do you do? Do you publish a poet, Donny Lee Duke?
Teacher of the day master of the poetry. Who says that’s prayer or insightful? That’s a line from the movie Beat Kids. I’m throwin’ at you rabbits to know the meaning of the word, its symbolizing form. Rabbits are a dictionary, and they fecund.
How do I open poetry in your heart that’s not a diction model, phrased put? But I’m putting sound down as a vehicle of meaning, categorically put. Imagine we lived in a rose, and we petaled differently, the speaker said.
You’re not huntin’ meaning. You’re all about sound rose a churppin’ model with words you can cut your finger on, your personal stuff that sees the corners of things, gets at feeling and taste, ode to a green jar and supposin’.
I wrap you around wood in a different kind of glory. I laugh-loud you to go get greater silk to stand your life, because I’m sittin’ here strandin’ mine, where it hurts, where it counts, and that’s bubblin’ up poetry.
That’s not it I’m listenin’ to myself speak, here I am on the table the thought of London, Batman in robes, lyrical put. A new generation of poetry, a new thought of poetry, here I am and you chase me down this mountain you tin can. I’m a dormitory of words.
Is that bowl I’m missing let’s listen to Tennyson? Grab your evolution by the poetry sir. Blast your pillars of salt. Blast your shadow kings. Don’t look back at some exam of poetry Orpheus. Grab your poetry by today.
To the editor of Sky Magazine: change Orpheus into a pillar of salt. Lay down your lines you’ve surrendered to poetry. Can you hear that? Muse India a scolding. How sad. You hear that?
The tops of teas lyrical ballads. Where am I at? I don’t think you’d recognize me. I’m poetry fits the day, sudden splendor.
Can we get to the top of that mountain? I offer you a chair. It’s closer than you think, a morph of Orpheus, of your kind. You open it binoculars.
Peace is a drug that you get from the upper store. [above line Nitish’s muse, my 12-year-old grandson] Nithish’s smile. Your anthology papers, post my letters, it is very change. I’m not lookin’ forward to the new ghost story. Oh man, do your ignore me? A new music, a flute overhead, we need that to survive. Things are not going in our direction, and can we just change the tunes? What a poetry says a culture does.
You’re not playin’ around with smithereens. Come on don’t groupthink and let poetry rock. I don’t understand you sir. Does it have to be highfalutin? You stuff shirt, come out in the world and see. Am I wrong? Do we need something more out of poetry that we’re not getting?
Come out of your damn ivory tower and touch the world. Is that so hard to listen to? What are you doing that you can’t see this is poetry? And I will haunt you for the rest of your life a poetry gun, a poetry speaker, a poetry man.
I don’t think you realize the power of poetry, the muse today. It will be inevitable we dance along the Thames putting it out like Shakespeare. It will come out of its bottle and change the world. Too strange driven, you think it just needs to be thrown away, like this email’s cut off here. Are you kiddin’ me?
Harm's End 