A star is born between us. He never did intended to become Puget Sound. All about its eternity: let me be the souls you can stand on. [above line heard sung] Believe it, huh, go back to Hollywood, where we find poetry today, where conscious entertainment walks with her fascist in pearls. When she gets to the Lake, when she gets to their alone in the dark, fascist quivers.
God grows in the hours, takes His first steps in the wherewithal of man, in the audacity of man, in the growing of man. We’re here. This is our livelihood. This is our pain. We kiss each other with this. We kill each other with its denial. We play together God-children.
I cannot fathom this. I look at it and stars, but there’s no name that I can put on. No concept carries this. It billows out a jutting of nature, seemingly meaningless. Where is righteousness in That? And godhead? The forms of things are too much for me, billowing God.
My God I think I will lose the world just sitting on a park bench. It’s embarrassingly strange. I can’t feel this with godhead fingers. I only see the road ahead in headlights of my be. Frozen fingers point to frozen books that spell this out to me, and I’ve been there, where God sits billowing Earth. I cannot contain that now. I don’t even know where it is in all this hullabaloo.
I am beside myself with this seeing, and I can’t take the world. It is all too deep and meaningful. What gave rise to forms at all, that He should inhabit them? Weird has me by the hand, and I love it there. The One who inhabits forms has bequeathed the world to me. I am a passion of its movement.
This marriage of life with form brings out the good in me. I can access myself, ponderin’ realities. I am here I told you, inside myself, a multiple see. Can I scrub my room? I can sure get down on myself. What do I have special that’s given me form? How indigenous to the moment I can feel foreign to myself, and I see aliens in spaceships where people pass me by. So alien world this, a feature of the Void. It rocks.
I’ve about had it with this. It’s too much to see. It overwhelms me. I infinity stare, and the forms of things are will-o-wisps around me, like existence cannot last in countless time. Will it all never be?
I want to look at it from there: I know I’m the One. I’d like to sit in a thoughtless temple and feel absorption unto myself. Do you know that ride? I spin it on my head, so close to realization’s axis I can just realize it’s there. I can’t climb into the module.
This is dynamite, and I’m happy to have it for a little while. Can you shoulder my room? I don’t think you’d lift there. It would scare the daylights outta yah. It’s ungrounded you see, in infinity’s swirl. You can’t touch the side and bottom, but the Top is smilin’ down at yah. The larger You is looking in on you, where you meet waves. You’re naked in front of Him, and this is good business cause you get soothed.
And that’s a ring around the wherewithal of That. It holds your hand, and you can see it better unhinged. The wisdom of insecurity Watts said. He had no idea. I’m a public project. Come up here, and we can manage some how we find hope. I’m a clear regard. You can see eternity from here.
But I’m about my room where I gather field. I do stuff. I get things done, cook and model people, deliver them to sum. I can see the problem: starward, we don’t gather ourselves there, or neglect this great big motion field play, like it’s normally down. If you do that those have been cleaned: a stranger looks at time’s eyes. You will last the night. You will hunger some for realization’s pinnacle, but you will certain see.
A joining: hey look at this picture with my other one, internal let it go from here: daddy! daddy! Kid’ll give you a pin down of where things go. Realization’s coils the delivery room. You’re okay there. Okay you’re up. This is a violet test: come warm infinity through halls of room. We will give you another mile.
Vision of matter materially investigated, I guess that first step. But isn’t she gorgeous? That guy is free, free for both of us, because May after we have to do another one, where we inhabit this planet Him. We will live in freedom pronounced by God. Join me there on your eraser, and erase all lines but God. What do you see? Perfect freedom.
Euthanasia of the Spirit you entertain anything else but God. That was a bad night switch, to lose this from our origins, but we’re back there at bright staples today. Any way you look at it 12 noon.
I’m so sorry for this point. I just wanna rub my face off. I’m a graveyard of the best intentions. I feel so inadequate to time’s doings. I can’t even communicate with you, where people are heard these days. Nobody can find my stuff on Twitter. It got shadowbanned. I don’t know how WordPress is gonna treat the length of these poems. YouTube knocks down videos, and even though I’m there I’m not.
Do you every have the certain futility to look, I mean at the sky and everything? It just mows yah down, the big of everything. I’m here I said, and yeah that’s little. I can fit into a little cup of everybody’s been here. That blasts, you know?
And here’s where I’m hooked. I can see the bigness, and I know I’m its business. How do I lavish to you the plan to be where poetry finds you today? Can I say the arc of poetry all along this poem? I want to speak need, not measure, where we find each other today in the lifting of our room. Come to me I’m poetry, is that where I find you? Shadowbanned in Carnegie Hall, this is the price is right to write poetry.
I’ll go the rhythm. You know I’m 10 feet tall. In this culture the number one is never far from shoot. You hold steps right about now to that escapade. Oh boy Rainbow Nagar, he can express His eyes when he speaks, but he put a poem out that grabbed them in the poetry, Muse India.
And I’m an indicator of where we find poetry today in India. That is not on our streets. It’s not even in our cars. It’s just billowin’ in the wind unread and unheard. Hear me people? Oh I can’t stand this new poetry. It juts out like a wad of nature and surprises yah in your sleep, all this regard, and that, and all eyes on God. Can we land poetry today? It’s got me by the book. And I’m reading you time said.
A different kind of story. I’ll write it across the sky:
I am a poet of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. I’m a 12-year-old poet. I am an original poet. I’m a muse poet, no help given to the writing of this poem.
We have as little as possible to do with bounds. Everything, if you think of something divine, it lights up. Grape juice, what’s the price? To get this boy’s poem published? Use the excellent hunter witchcraft. This is by far the best boat.
We have an epiphany of being. It lasts. It shoulders reality. It doesn’t go away. It will be there when we get back. That’s an ankle torn, lavishly spent on nature. I think we disappear awhile into our compellings. This could be a shade of grey, or the self-righteous crowd.
We hang there. We brood there. We don’t know what it means. I think Earth has taken us by the hand to stumble some. Are we workin’ things out? We’re an operation reality. So many meanings made clear where we go wrong. Can you see this?
It reaches us right there where we’re at. There is no perfection slave point. We arrive there, post-stumblings. It’s as certain as Earth. This is all in a car now. We hump it some.
I can’t show you the Earth. There are no fields there perfection’s sum, the arrived at. I can only show you time in her suspended miracle. Each failing of Earth gathers us. It fixes us where we find wounds. I think the urge there is to heal, in humanity, and in ourselves.
What have we done to the Earth? And you think this is out of step with nature’s plan? Of course we rob/ruin it. [words heard spoken simultaneously] No other animal would do otherwise in the glory of its day. So how do we naturally put on? Give the Earth time to heal its man-plan. This is far away from us? You’ve got it in your hand.
We open Earth with it, one story at a time, stories big enough to see us, because they’ve hit us in the quick of ourselves, in what it means to be human. We lavish such stories in exaggerated can. There are all humans to meet, who spiritualize themselves and bring out of them soul.
You can’t see this plan. The story has made us discover ourselves in an avoidance of Mars, the tribe of our taboos, that can make you vomit if you find it close, that can heal your scars when you find it redemption.
What do we do with this? He’s a pedophile throw him away. You nincompoop, this blesses us, if we know it arrives at noon, if we can call it our own, sit with it and not react.
I can’t spy this in for you. You’ve got to see it yourself. You’ve got to be there with the Earth where she most needs. You’ve got to be open to chance, and from bad things can come good things, if we arrive there. The Earth is a joy shout out. It means somethin’.
Every separate thing loosened from its coils came from her divinity’s roll out. Some have become perverted in the mask of space. They have a divine element. They come back to themselves, over and over again, if we can find that purpose put.
And the pedophile becomes a purpose maker in the intensity of small children. Instead of sex he gives them stars. Your disbelief is operating now. It blights this page, and I’m stuck with it, have to sit with it and stare at time. You won’t release me.
And we’re crowdin’ in on time. My boy has submitted his first poem to a literary showcase here in India. There will be others. He’s 12, and comes upon us another snag: did he write this?
You maniac, you are horrible disbelief. You would destroy the world if you could, rather than read his poetry lie down. I’m making it visible now, Nithish’s hotspot, where he finds muse. This is in our certain poetry together in the soliloquy of love.
A shapeshifter, I’ve morphed into my true form: hello there boy, I’m intensity of consciousness open up to intensity of purpose, hanging your own star. Watch that glow. Good God that’s purpose, smellin’ salts.
Stories that make you puke, stories that rhyme with the Earth, calculate us and make us see. They involve with us to every hand’s on healing. Do tell, and here I am in that yard. Wrap me around the world, will yah? I’m certain. Watch it, a fuller opera, a zero point ignition, reaches Earth.
The title to this poem came, meaning was spoken into my inner ear, at the very moment in the movie Maestro when Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony ends, which the main character, Leonard Bernstein, is conducting inside Ely Cathedral, England.
You’re gonna light a fire then, somewhere in your heart, to see past form and measure. I can’t show this to you. This is big stuff. I ride it sometimes a formless thought so big I can’t contain eternity. I mean I see pictures of the forms of things and know they’re void. I see the act. I wonder over creation, how formless it is in reality, in essence. I mean there’s nothing there. A hold on reality, that is all, some picture frame that houses more it can be.
I’m riding the waves of time, and I can’t believe it’s there. It has formlessness attached to every rod. We’re seeing things in the cough of the Void. Oneness is there absolute. Now let me get at this seeing.
I see nothing would not be the truth of the matter. I see bright and shiny. I see a world before my eyes imbued with meaning. It gets stuck sometimes. Where does the meaning come from? From my very lips. That’s larger than sound.
A story is spoken into the Void, and the aeons stamp it out, and we hear it. We can’t grasp its meaning, but we know it’s there animated by souls. Oh my lovely little boy, my Rottweiler, my Doberman, that candle on the street honking at me, they are all lit with soul. I see it in their eyes. I can’t get over the vision. They’re larger than soul.
My God what’s in there? Have you every been alone with yourself in the midst of another person, in the grasp of the world? They can be sucking your tongue. Please, I’m a cultural enterprise. Don’t bite me here. You just stand there stark still in disassociation’s quiverings. Infinity bites the finite. You can’t get over that guy. That’s the one that has you in hand, the maker, the dream maker, the unimaginable everything that’s about you now. Can he grasp you? Can he pull your pants down?
You’re robbed of sense. This is a stark moment. I bound there. I know it’s comin’: I never leave there again.
And I’ve caught you in half circles of it. I cannot grasp to you its whole. I’m not there sometimes. I never get to that fullness in my momentary lapse into the lapse of infinity. My momentary circles just buy me lunch, and I breathe awhile everything is wonderful and strange. I get so excited I opera to myself, and I get scared sometimes it gets so deep.
I’ve given you half failings of what it means to be human. We are so much bigger than stars. We are that guy you see, making his alone-rounds where everything collides together. Oh my God he’s a bulletin bull, and I’ve reduced to you its mystery. If infinities were universes, all-encompassing infinity could not encompass him. I’m just saltin’ the ocean and countin’ crows. This is bigger than time, in any duration of its meaning. We get bigger than universes, and we get bigger than infinity. We can crow there.
I’m taking you back through time to hello please, let’s take a bite of infinity. You there, in your suit, remove yourself from time, get back in yourself to vision’s eyes. Let down the world some and revel in its majesty. Get your gun out and shoot at the presumption of the stars, at God’s mighty glory, at something that’s just so strange God comes out of it. Amazing is just a teller in a window. We’ve broken in on time.
Copy this down the story of the universe. It came from such musings in infinity’s time. Now it’s your story keep. Will you handle it? The Robinson Crusoe on Mars, I’m a pallbearer. Can you hear infinity? Let your ego down some, your ego’s guts, the ego’s lair.
Divine intervention [this line from my little boy Nithish, from his muse, and came to him at this point in the writing of this poem, while having pizza in town at Taka Pizza] beyond deity. We’re lookin’ through I don’t know if I can see that high. The relationship starts when you’re alone in your room, your environing personal consciousness, and you can field notes. You can get in there. Start noticin’ your room. I’m not sayin’ wall yourself off from society. There are times to be alone in the midst of it. Cut yourself off from society, can you even do that? It’s not possible. We are your own personal consciousness in the field of the One.
I vaguely remember the strength we’re all together. Here, this is a lily pond, and you’ve lily’d unto yourself. Draw back in your room. Investigate reality. The time will come you will open doors of seeing. Let it happen. Don’t count it away. It will all come upon you when it’s there tangible real. You will billow in your room, become a flower-pen.
You won’t let you down. You’re on your way to seeing. Just let the thoughts roll back and thin towards silence, and meet the world with that in your vision’s eye, in your mind’s eye, and draw back the curtains so you can see eternity at work. These are not beliefs. Just see.
Eventually you’ll arrive on sight into veilless infinity. You will feel this in your room stark naked. Now you’re in glory hole. Keep movin’. You come to a fullness of yourself riding waves. Now tell me the world has no meaning. You saw it, didn’t yah, the meaning alone. Did it wink at yah, give you a nod? Wow, that’s personal. That’s really personal.
Well I’m writing my poems the boost we need to get there. You’ll walk around. You needed something. It’s the American revolution. I think they stole it, all this hatred online. Has blocked poetry has blocked mine. Show it to you investment in reality, like you’ve never seen it seen. This actor shoots directly to you I got the movie in parables of see. Wear it on your face your intense hatred. I’ve left it so beautiful, reality’s face. Where are you at that you can’t see it?
Swallow your nose. Lay down your religion. For once here we are at score. It’s in your eyes today. Willy Wonka, will you offer some chocolate? That’s administrators if you like it. That’s the burn name. I’m behind you reality meets the press, one second, your thinking. Captured, Oppenhagger, constructing love. Under what conditions? Bomb material poems I publish.
You can hear me on the bus. You pretend to ignore me. Costing so much chocolate. Yours was letter-formed into poems. Think about it this is a different kind of funeral. We lost you the character of new bullet today.
A demon’s eye [Nithish’s muse, heard while behind me on the bike, seeing a bird with red eyes] will distort to you the truth. Don’t let it. It’s got rings on it, and it hurts you: you are some kingpin you are not. Stay away from demons. You can get off here. Did you just hear it speak?
A bit of muse will show you the way. I wouldn’t get hung up on it. I would bring you to the truth, and that’s bigger than reality, and it’s not a game we play to convince each other. There is a vision there inside you that can interpret reality. We get along without it most of the time. That does not get you to pure reality or anywhere near the truth. You just hang there.
Can we get beyond name and form? We embrace each other there. This is really personal. We embrace each other there and get out of ourselves. Practical hands see the no-self show. See that no-self show, it’s that guy you see stark naked. I mean the cameras are in the room, but there’s no cameraman, just his see. Awesome we wait time the right formula to meet the world, and do everything we need to do to stay alive and operate reality to a bigger game than time, and become Ourselves again. They’ve got a furigation. They just don’t let the water go. It’s the pilot Supermind we are beyond time. No issues, the body’s there too.
And now let’s hump reality to the right place on earth, where you are no ego, riding waves of reality to the see of that guy. You there, have I brought you home?
I can’t picture this. Just look in your drawer. You wouldn’t go through every picture. Where do I see this? Don’t laugh it’s in your room larger than cat.
You’re gonna piddle me apart of course. I’ve got a strength of muse. You can’t get rid of me that easy. You’re gettin’ enlightenment on a piece of paper. Have you ever saw it before? Do you need to see it?
It’s your lifeline. It’s the reason you were created, to become That you see. There’s no way around it. You can’t avoid it. Your death journey has this in store, but it’s here we graduate. It’s here we do it. It’s here we get it done. There is no other place on earth to take what you can get out of life as your homecoming.
You only see animal quiverings, do not know we get bigger than that. Your spiritual empty, but you can go the distance, man you can go. That’s what we Earth for, to bring the planet here: beyond the animal into God-quiverings.
I don’t have it. And I’m gonna pick him up, lay the bridge down for him in some parable of tomorrow. Fasten your seatbelts. Need to practice it, the acceleration of life. Need to get going. Tra la la! [line heard yelled in the voice of Captain Underpants from the movie of the same name] Oh hallelujah. Peel back silence in your mind. Lift it there. Extraordinary, you have depth of vision.
Looking my answer. I’ve made such a rainbow. No one sees its beauty/sense. [words spoken simultaneously] It’s just another lunatic in a long game. It’s just completely ignored, except for a handful of brave souls I would like to thank. 5,4,3,2,1, I’m countin’ your love here. You have risked your lives online and put a like by my material.
Let’s count the score. I’m flabbergasted. I don’t know what I mean. I’ve counted meaning in the stars, summed up the meaning of Earth, and physically grasped Supermind, and I’ve even housed meaning soul, yet I cannot grasp in my own hands I write. I cannot write my meaning in Earth. I cannot even tarry there. I don’t know how. I don’t know where I am where I meet you with the pen.
This is a mystery to me. I am a steady stream of starlight that doesn’t leave out one iota of where my thoughts are, my hands in the business of life, my heart as it sees the world, and I can’t even gauge you my time. I write things down I hear from on high, and that is not the half of it. I run this through the strands of my life. I sit and wonder the lines I write. I pick and choose and beg and plead to give you the date of poetry.
It’s all scrambled up sometimes in the gut-fields of life. I cannot touch life. In halls of infinity I just get close to it in storms of pen. It won’t read me there. It’s just about the lie we value poets today. Do you?
I can’t tell you how much I spend on this. It’s my life’s blood. I work around everything to write. I eat and I sleep carrying muse. I’m about the end of it, how I begin each day. I don’t think Shakespeare knew a better idiot than I feel grasping you. I’m sorry please. I will arrive there one day, where a poem’s just a piece of paper I’ve handled meaning on, and I don’t handle meaning in terms of readers. I’m gettin’ there. I can see it now.
What do we do with the orange crush? You’re gonna sneak up on my meaning as I write. You think it’s about lollipops. I’m just tryin’ to grasp myself today a writer of poems on Earth’s starward prow, in her meaning lists, and where I find the Sun. I gobble down the stars, lick up the scraps. Do you know muse? I am so entertained. It’s an amusement park, and to think this is for all mankind?
Wow, we watch TV with it, put it in our pipe and smoke it no. Did that just happen to me? I’ve heard a line of muse, saw a vision, and the sign said poetry. And we grasp Earth in our specialness and want to tell the world. It’s not ready for it yet, and you can’t get there yet, show your muse. Don’t throw it away. It’s got vision’s long hold on it. It will mature brightly. You’re not showin’ it to people. You’re just listening muse. It’s got a lot to show for it.
You’re gettin’ bigger kid, lookin’ at the world some a God vision growing. You think you’re a pilot of the world? Oh please we’ve all been there, considering ourselves. We can grow so much bigger in our thoughts. We can get bigger than ourselves. We can surely get there. Do you know how far this is? I don’t think you can touch it with ego. It’s on the other side of the universe. A change of consciousness gets you there, and that’s where we measure our days, not in muse.
A change of consciousness ahead, that’s where we measure muse. Is it happening to us? Is it real? Is it there yet? Do you see the lightning? Oh wow better poetry can I Lord please write? Where I am today: I don’t think anybody hears me. You silly fool, write measured pace.
Run it through the ringer of my life and be bold, casual and free. Newman, we’ve got that ticket. Caught a moment off Gods to the camera you’re the human being. Focus any of my material? Put it on that lawn, Lucille Balls. We’re negotiating shelter. What principles create him greater need? He’s blarin’ at yah sorry about the needful.
There’s time to look at it. I’m sorry I say so much that brings out your life. Are you crazy? You give the essential details; there is no need to give them. He needs to got put in the hold. You’re listenin’ to him. Open it up Americans, because Americans with a policy —okay let’s go under— with a policy to grow anything. The only way I talk to you is throwin’ you out. [line heard sung, voice of Dolly Parton] You wanna sit your own ass on the opposite side of going off the bridge. Yep, that outta do it, environmental change.
Call your father Christmas. I can’t call anybody. I’m not allowed to write. It’s because you never get read. They’re gonna come, the people who read newspapers. I just want to look at the must angle. We need these right now, these poems called freedom, how you pronounce it, how it’s acting.
And I have a lovely single for you today, another poem, good story, man's help. And for poem’s sake, the runner, Beavis and Beauty— I’m underpinnings; I’m the laugh of the party; I’m in there a broad measure of healing. Let’s leave it up to another empty poem to give us some ground rules.
I want to be Rivendell to meet, not some pedophile sandbag. A lot of people meet me everyday. I’m countin’ the reaction when you’re encountered with pedophiles. I’m goin’ to school where I meet yah, and would you believe you could learn about the sky here? They stole it, people who let social stigma get in the way of their judgment. Did we just mention everybody? For awhile there, Jesus was not one of ‘em. Now he’d be right there judgin’ yah with everybody else, because he’s a Christian.
Do we have anything fat to look at? Can we get into a different defense cave? Social stigmas don’t have sting anymore. It’s not visible too seen. You think you know everything. What does this cost us? Would you believe the stars? You can’t go there. You can’t even run. It’s got yah by the balls. You’re not helpin’ anyone sexual sinners included.
Did we just mention social stigma? The heart of the disease. It camps us in the hatred of the sinner. It’s here we have social margins, places we cannot cross, the ultimate taboos of society, bigger than even eating your neighbor. Can you feel the hate down there? What riles you up more against the sinner? Where do you go with that? In the news.
I’d like to lesson faith, put Christ there on the table and examine him. Let’s start with Buddha. Do you see love? Hell even Krishna would say no in a pedophile open container. Muhammad would just deny that it ever be. I’m countin’ populations of this faith or another, that give us Godly love. The population says no, if we’re lookin’ in sexual drawers. Why is that? Godly love’s not among them.
Progress, we haven’t seen this yet to stop hate here. Have I come to a common denominator what eats the heart of man? And we can come further. We can see this thing. We can liken it to our lives. We can know it hurts us, to always have the scarlet letter we give people to wear. I’m talkin’ about every day, every hour, every minute, on this Earth, and multiply that times humanity.
Silent the Staffers are about this, the administrators of humanity, the ones who give us the news, the ones who sell religion, and the poet, and the playwright, and anybody who makes noise. A lot of people mention queers and transgenders and other fancy stuff, but they sure aren’t showin’ us the leaven of the rule to hate sexual sinners, very different from accept me I’m gay.
Did Jesus come to heal that? A powerful religious figure. Have we come that far, where we can recognize the sinner in the ones who are to us Gods? And the ones we recognize as Gods, they wear perfection you see, so they have authority, so they don’t blind us with true vision. We can’t take that light. Mother Mary was a saint, and Jesus never sinned. Can we get outta here? Out of wedlock has got us by the balls.
It damages us, makes us see right in lying about the Light. Muhammad never loved women and failed God there. Can we see this for the truth? I think someone would kill me if I said it, and word got around. Our religious bringers, even if they don’t know it, are tryin’ to heal humanity where their own lives are concerned.
Of religious hate, it can’t see this. Of religious hate, this is all over the place, and here it’s most prevalent and mean, most pronounced, and it’s there in your jury room, and it’s there in your heartbeats. What do we need to heal? Society, if we ever hope to help the Earth. Environmental change to a better Earth for all begins there. It’s our starward. It’s our hope. It’s where we meet each other.
Who do you revile the most? That’s the key ingredient of our change. It’s where we find each other on common ground. It’s where we pick apart humanity and find its managing flaws. It’s where we touch base with one another, and it stinks to high heaven. It’s beyond the pale. It’s what moves us to rape, murder, and war, because it’s our common denominator, LCD hate, the hatred we all share. Move that, touch that, and we all quiver.
Are you there yet? I’m roundin’ you out some. I’ve got a field to show. Hear my heartache? I am everywhere. I’m in your shoes now. Feel free to put your comments in the minus bar, is that what you say Eddie? Is that where you’re at? It’s where we draw morality today.
Master of a small craft, we inland seas. Our body is our Temple Mount, and we plus it with reality. We put it there to show. How expertly we ride that thing. We got it down. It knows us, bruises to our failings, and it won’t shut up, if we simply tell it to shut up. What’s goin’ on?
Is Spirit realm available? [This line Nithish’s muse, who’s laying beside me listening too] Why are we so tight in there? Why can’t we express ourselves? Well, this poem is about thank you. It works so well, and the browser still with the Lord. I think I’ve got your attention.
Not to the world, not to the process of the world, have I threatened a place among them, pedophiles of the world who molest children.
Have this money in the bank: notes on put them in evenings, the body’s troubles to put on its craft for the day. We cater to it. We don’t meet its needs. We stand around and tell it it don’t meet our needs. We are heavily damaged by it. I can’t do this. It’s in pain.
I hardly doubt that. You are not that. You are here to show you be had. The body is its own big business. It grasps us you see, spends us on its movements, makes us do its call. We can get around this. We can learn ourselves, have the body an ocean that expresses our Spirit. We don’t let it rule us, but we meet it on its boards in proper time, and is our heating that causes death? I’ll hear you later.
How do we spend it rightly? If you notice the whole damn world’s doin’ it: ah, and it’s president of you are safe. You were sleazy. You reach up and home lice. I talked to a talk show host. He’s when you fail.
And you think you’ve completed your list? The Lord figures you know nothing of dogs, field, and snow— infinancy. You knew why I was asking. You wanna know just like they are. The body’s its own mechanism. It has a lord sheep. It calls its own name. It can’t figure out itself, but it’s wonderfully aligned with the principle of its keep, and that is an ocean of soul.
It can climb mountains, earn God in every way. It can be aligned with the stars and become a God-moon. It can harbor divinity and last hundreds of years. It’s evolving into this type the human body. Even now there are whispers on its tops of this great change, and it can listen down below to an exceed itself.
We put it on today unawares of its capacity, ignorant of its morn, and we don’t know its origin and treat it like a deft machine. It can cast awake and throw illness from itself, do away with pain, and object to the roads of accident, and deformity and defect can be gotten rid of when we learn the ways of seed and follow the body’s own plan to begin with.
We can stretch it long through the days and make it hum and sing and field variety. It’s in our voice today. We don’t know how to keep it there so it becomes a living thing. Certainly soup helps. I’m welcome here— exercise talking. But do you know what? It’s all in the head, a directed attitude, a determined faith, a will applied pressure, on the body’s substance, on its lair, its locations of control, that brings us to this door. Inside that door is monumental change.
You don’t know the Blue Book, and I’m helpin’ you along, and I am very happy to. I am one of them: my manhood is Earth. Humanity this must be our star, a delivery to the very nature of Earth, bear with me, when we rise to Supermind, in that distant of our days. Glory to the world the Lord has come. [This and preceding line heard sung by a choir,tune “Joy to the World”] And matter reveals its hidden divinity.
Where do we find the door? Where do we go from here? Even in halls of self-control we are cramped by the body. It’s loud in there. Where do we release it to itself, and it answers nature rightly? Can it joy to itself? How high do I go to land this in the body? I’m just a moment’s sunlight. Do I always forego pleasure for your sake my Lord? Is it always so dry? Here we are in the well, and enlightenment’s satisfaction has not reached us. What do we do?
And it is here we must lift Earth. Can you believe sacrifice? It is transposed upon the world and becomes the day. One man’s sacrifice can still bring the dawn. I can get no tighter than that. I can hear no message clearer. It’s where I am, and it’s what you hear today. We make our body safe. We don’t harm the Earth with it, and we don’t harm our little ones with it, especially our little ones. That dog has boy eyes don’t you see, that cat little girl paws. Oh my sweet blue Earth, are you hearin’ me? Oh my smilin’ green Earth, listen please.
That’s the nature of reality, we stay the way for our children. We stay the way for love. We go the distance, and we go to God. Did you hear me Israel? Listen, I’m sure if you steal, it will turn our rooms into a disaster area. It will end up affecting us all.
Now pedophilia, that’s the most indistinct thing there. You are taken this close. And I just hang there. I have nothing to show for it. You’re in a square seat behind holes of reality. You’ve got the best seat on earth, larger than mankind. You don’t bow to no one. You’re really there. You’re the right person to handle the Word. You are Our go man. You are not some blind wall. We listen to you. It’s a conscious place in there. You feel the world. You feel in there.
The dawn of a new age between icebergs. We can’t let the stories out. Regal and important, they show us our under wares. We can’t see them because the gatekeeper says no. They move us, give us another time, tranquille. We can’t find the time to read them.
A Green Beret, I parachuted into Germany with an atom bomb. No, Luna puppy, I’ve jumped out of Mars. I’d love to tell yah the story. One single incident would be almost big enough, but I’ve landed Silent Mind. On the approach to return to this land. It makes gold for good seeing.
Memorable wares, I’ve put poems on mountaintops, in the station of Mount Sinai and on the 14 Stations of the Cross in Old Jerusalem. I put “The Last Man on Earth” in the sarcophagus of the Great Pyramid in Egypt. A few people saw me do it. It wasn’t a landslide.
I travelled the world a vagabond pilgrim in the early days of the net and did not record it there, for years. Country to country saw me soup, and I gathered myself there. In one tall swoop, long before I left Houston, a Classical Greek scholar I was, I became the person I am presiding over all these lives. I became my Godself on high. I mean I went up there long enough to know Who I am. That started my life. I was born in that moment as one who stretches the Earth.
What a thing to say if you’re just some yahoo, even with all the trailers this poem has shown you. Can you hear them? I’m not dyin’ in my lunch. I’m a livin’ breathin’ testament of I have lived sir, man I have lived ma’am. Can you see that way? Do you even care? X-men have got you by the heart, and the Avengers have blinded you, story after story of savin’ the world, and the human can’t even get there. We bleed our stories so they make Earth pretend, so they grasp the wrong value, so they tattletale in our arms.
Can we find our soul? Would you believe it’s not a person? And it’s not our stars. It’s an ocean down a deep well that you can find if you get there falling sleep. I took my conscious that far, falling, over several days of exploration, and I found my soul. Are you on the move? And you think you’re only on the outside travelin’?
Who’s cleaning this mess up? My goodness guy. And we’ve met the soul watch. Our personhood has launched it to develop life. That’s why it’s here. When you find it you activate that, and it cleans up messes, and it’s inevitable you rise a soul see. I’ve grounded that, and I turn the tables on you. I don’t think you’ve found that ocean yet.
And I have found the stars where I sit, and I have found the Earth where I sit. The soul has brought me here. It’s larger than mountains, more infinity than space, and that’s our standin’ ground. It’s all over the place. It’s in this room right now greater see.
I’m here to show you the real. I entered this world a pedophile, and all you’ve heard has been my means to change. I could not just be a normal citizen, not in my brood, not where my society reach romantic heart, not in my roving center where I attracted to the world. You don’t understand polyp, and you think freewill is everywhere. I gunned this life. I really put it on, the role a lifetime keeper. I am here before you today on poet watch. I give you the stars. I give you the formula for change.
Will you unload that to where the voice can see it, the net speaker? I’m comin’ to yah today where we meet the Earth. I’m not sutterin’. I am right there.
What just happened? I gathered the rainbow and showed it to yah, and showed yah who you are. You are that God on high, the One I described above. It is the Maker. It is the Shaker. It is Who we all are in the dynamics of deity, and here we all are lost in the world we have created, foundering in the universe we began, and we need to get there, to our creator self, where it meets us here.
That’s the gist of the story, of every story on earth. I populate it now with facts, with a storyline. Understanding? Give it all you got.
Through the lens of the screen we interpret reality. This is how we get our gun. It’s how we conduct business. We die that way. It’s a world in front of our face that we miss, we need to listen to. What’s reality goin’ on around us? It swallows the moon.
We’re just stale, happy, TVs in the room. It jogs us. It casts us aside. We come to our computer to participate, or put our cellphone between us and the world. Does that make TV better? We market our lives sittin’ in front of a screen, and it can be so tiny. It’s not there you know. You are.
We translate screens all day, and we don’t know their rash. It doesn’t solidify us. We just get all choked up on a reality ration card. We think it excites us. This does us in. Get your notebook and interpret reality with that. Record your inner life. Your outer life will still be there when you get back. Those events jingle. You can feel them with your hand. They are real to you, and they’re awesome.
They seem boring to you because they step on the ordinary. They have miracle all over them, if you know how to look, and do you know the world draws nigh to you when you do? You see things that are extraordinary, synchronicities between thought and life that you know somebody’s lookin’ at yah the universe can’t hold. These are certain stairs, and you reach a height at noon that reveals to you God.
You can’t see this on the screen. It’s too confined in there. It doesn’t have reality’s picture on it that blankets you with stars. It’s not where you’re at. Oh you can move between thought and the screen like you live there all grown up. You can ride lightning’s ways. You can figure out the world in the emptiness of its room. You can sit and enjoy yourself. You cannot hold hands with God.
I’m showin’ you this on TV, and you just dyin’ to practice it in the real world, ain’t yah? You want to see God. You want to see thoughts larger than man. I’m tellin’ yah they’re there in the dry, material world. I’ve picked up a book and opened the pages of reality with it. That’s my own damn TV, where I sit in reality and wait for the next full moon.
I sound good to your reason-sense, but you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about. It’s green there. It’s got flexible and still on it, and it’s a whole wide afternoon, or a mornin’ that bakes bread in reality’s oven; an evening there whispers to the stars. You can’t get that look onscreen. It’s not tangible, real. It tries to trouble you, get you to play basketball on digital courts. You are mad at me no?
Let’s blame the room. We don’t know how to put it right. It just bleeds us to make our reality all fucked up. We have digitalized each other, and this is worms. We’re not even real people inside the machine. We got lollipops on we want other people to lick. See me there?
Where does poetry go inside the machine? It changes its meaning. I’m starin’ at you now, wonderin’ how many hits I get singin’ in a dark tunnel. Would you meet me there? Would we get out of the machine? I think we would find somewhere to be humans again not under computer programs and not onscreen lives.
I do stay long I do stay up here in the companion of see. My day’s because of it. My time online are my thoughts I’m tryin’ to have me killed for. I’m not the only one puttin’ you in touch with yourself with my reality TV Episode Donny.
We’ll say I was parkin’ and I saw a Muslim guy stare at me intently, would you believe this is page one? I’ve gotta get yah outta here. So I turn the world upside down in your ideas, act strange with the written word. Can you see me happy? That’s most of my flower. Now I’ll see where we’re at. I’m not hatin’ anybody. I’m lookin’ to end hate so you won’t hate me. That’s a noble enterprise.
Left the school of bang your head against the wall, of put out your left eye, and so for nothing less the reality’s keeps, and if you see an American Jewish woman walkin’ down the street, you wouldn’t war with Israel. Know whadda I mean?
Wow, I think I’m healthy for the next line: we are all one family. We do business together that way, on and offline. He’s gonna put it in a bank watch this. Why don’t you just leave it here? Goddamnit, could you put a photo at the top of the page that is really, truly there because you like me? And you enjoy your meal, Ocean’s Eleven, and there you have it.
How many realities of life are there? A Boeing 747 in each one. It’s on a fascinating, fascinating mountain not far from here. Okay. It’s in this poem. Let’s go get some sleep after the intro. That’s not how about you rule things. Your consciousness is up there. I have trouble accessing it, you are the poem. I reckon then go, go where your prime takes yah. It’s right there beyond the screen.
You just can’t do it. What about an online pass? We breed poems, and I talk about accessibility. It has that special sauce when you’re committed to a short story a movie a play. You don’t frontal lobe it. You’d like to know that word. You thought you thought ahey? [line heard sung] Leave me alone. Alright be quiet. I’ve gone back to being somebody’s poem on the internet.
It’s to help you open the world. I’ve almost gotten you this evening. Yes I’m quitting. I put more butter in my reality’s screen to get out of the ego’s refusal to its environment. Rest assured, I just want God there the vision I have always.
A quiet you find yourself in, a silence that can see the stars, these are the momentary hush that come together to you for reality, that grasp tangible God. These are the momentary links that give you all the nature of man. Wind with me to that summit. I arrive there the quiet in your room. Lift with me a moment tangible God.
The body of trans auto-mania piss you off. It’s just super cool to take your gender off. They suffer for this. I am a man goddamn it, and here my body’s female. I can’t grab my own balls. I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m ugly in the mirror. I don’t fit. This hurts. It’s all I can see. I live with this everyday. I can’t surmount it. It’s got me by the balls.
So I’m transgender, and I have this wonderful surgery to make me a man. It really feels good to take my gender off. Low and behold I’m a man! I’m now right with myself. I can see the world that way. Everything’s alright with the sun. There’s just this little stickler in the program: I’m still a woman. I can’t get up in the morning without remembering who my body was. I kill my dead name, and I still respond to it.
I thought I was gonna be happy, really fulfilled. I tell the press I am. I’m still confused inside. This didn’t do the trick. It just took my face off. I don’t know how much I regret my new situation. I kinda like my new dick, but this just didn’t satisfy, you know?
I’m in gender dysphoria. I think that’s the word these days. I can’t get over it. Gender is a thing of the past. It’s not biologically made. It’s not who we are. I decide what I’m gonna be. Gender’s what I say I am, and it’s fluid all damn night, and it’s green. I have to get my dick cut off to be happy or make my vagina out of one, and that is the secret formula for wholeness and wellness of being I’ve told myself that a million times.
It never sticks, but you know, it feels good to be different. I’ve revealed myself. I’ve taken society by the horns, and I have said you do not determine me. Now, where do we go with this? I’m on the same side I was. Happiness did not come from the scalpel and knife. I still suffer. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know out of this. It’s not what I thought it would be, all bliss and honeymoon.
Oh man there is a deeper life. It’s right there at your edges. You have so much more to you than gender. You are a pilot inside. This is where you take yourself. You’re looking for fulfillment. You find the road ahead. It’s got spiritual on it, in that it’s deeper than life’s ways. You go beyond yourself. You get bigger than you. There are states inside that show you this. It’s a consciousness change. It brings you out of yourself. It’s as natural and as right as rain. It doesn’t boil you over. It’s where you’re going with this, your humanity.
It’s not a made-up lie. You will find it on the inside if you look with open questions and the knowledge of the seeker who fervently knocks on doors. It’s been lost to humanity by and large, translated as religion around the world. These are not beliefs you grow into. Your spirituality is you, and you get deeper every day. The sun rise in you it begins to dawn in you.
Now you’re sittin’ in the road of you feel good about yourself. It’s not fake anymore. It’s the real McCoy. It can’t be duplicated by gender fuck you. It can’t be duplicated by a reliance on the machine. It is so different, who you are, than you figured it was going to be.
Gender was not what I thought it was. There’s a principle there masculine and feminine. We would call them forces of nature. It’s got a lot of glow. It would determine society. It would be a division we are. We’ve been divided in two, so our babies don’t kill each other any more than they do. So we have to have a plan to elope. They have to come together, the divided forces, to make offspring, and that makes us. It was designed that way, so we could have peach on earth in our kitchens.
The lie is this: you are a man, or a woman, and that’s that. You are both you see. The woman you long for, the one you wanna be, man in gender dysphoria, is not about a knife, cutting your balls off. You be that woman inside that’s fine. It’s a principle you’re enhancin’, but you still let that man glow. You come to a balance in yourself, express which gender suits you in any given moment of life. Which one you push more to the front in that moment, and which one lays back, this is wholeness. Don’t cut yourself off.
Gender dysphoria, it’s a book. It’s a fad. It transpires, but you don’t reject yourself. You see what you are. The confusion’s on the table. It’s about us. We are more than a mind in a body in the everyday instruments we use. We have an intermediary, the vital, a life-body. It’s the breath of life, the life force in us. It has its own consciousness, and it pushes its desires into the mind, its impulses into the body, its preferences for this and that, and it’s the death of us.
It’s like a small child, really. If you meet it in dream it is a large, hairy creature with a long neck and no head, that just loves you to death, like a big rub up against you dog. It’s friendly. It’s got its own mind. Now here’s the trouble with man, and we don’t even see it: you have to get the vital in order, if you wanna deal with life. This was not a doctrine I performed when I entered the Integral Yoga that has this psychology down. I had met my vital in dreams, and I understood what my teachers were talking about. Sri Aurobindo and the Mother talk about the vital a lot.
Now here you are a man in a woman’s body, or a woman in a man’s, or so you think. There are three people involved: your vital, your mind, and your body. They each have a gender. Wow, how weird is that? It’s principles they mask. One is masculine. One is feminine. A combination wouldn’t mean dysphoria, or would it?
Now, my mind is male, and I’ve got a male body. My vital sweetheart is feminine. They work together you see and form a confederacy. I balance them. I know myself. Would you?
A masculine-feminine body would have to be dealt with. It would require surgery in some cases. That’s understood. Okay we got a masculine mind and vital, but the body’s different. What’s removed in surgery? Surface towels. The body consciousness still has its gender. It hasn’t been cut away. It counts. Can you see this?
How do you live with it, a body one thing, a mind and vital another? That’s not a woman inside a man’s body, or the other way around. Your understandins’ wrong. Give this gift to yourself: don’t worry about society’s gender. Take its clothes off. You want to be you inside. Where is that at? A masculine-feminine lady, or a man that’s masculine and feminine. Do you get the picture? Can you see what I’m sayin’?
Be okay with who you are. That dick is yours, that beaver. If it’s ugly you got a problem of self-acceptance to sort out. You don’t have to be confused. I think it’s society’s roles making you suffer, the way it looks at you. Can you be bigger than that? Can you get out of yourself in don’t look at gender like it makes the world go round?
Be a man and a woman you see, and it’s where society’s movin’, fluid gender roles. You open your spirituality you’ll also become the opposite sex. I mean if you follow your plan, the inside spirit of things, the movement of your soul as it walks through time, not a practice and belief set. Have we gotten anywhere? To the right way of being. Have you heard me yet? Try.
Gender roles don’t tell yah who you are. The extraordinary does, and I’m a mission to see it more plainly than I do now. Would you believe it? And they call me a pedophile. You think you’ve got it bad in society’s ways. Gender role fluidity, let’s get sensitive about that, not insults to us, because they disagree with you. We can’t change society with the anger of its being. That crushes it, eats it alive. We can’t change society with anger and want it to love us. Somehow we have to all agree gender roles are too rigid, and we change accordingly. That takes love. That takes patience, and we won’t do it overnight. Does anybody hear me?
We want society to change, and that’s the school we go to, and it’s not a military school. And we come to the gender roles, the wrong types of the wrong kinds of divided. We reason this out where rules are concerned, and we put them aside when need be. Our school children can learn this so easily, how to a happy gender life. Let’s start with some knowledge, will yah? And you heard it in this poem, all along the gender wars. You hear me?
There’s a message in our placement book, where we live together life. Do you hear it? Let’s aim life to that message room: oh gender kids, gender fluidity. Oh no acting occurred. There are muscles that never hurt. There are muscles that never work. Never wash your hands is a single no to the system. You just lie there and wait for some other hand to pick you up. Oh come on please, you don’t know what I’m talking about? Get it, that two worlds isn’t political; it’s political or die. You’ve got that raccoon in your mouth. It lifts good. Now are we gender or sex?
Let’s take a look at this. Oh my God he’s gay. Yes Chris, Mr. Beast is not laughing about this. Twenty thousand eat their dicks. I’m gay. It’s a guilt trip. One second. They don’t like the social stigma. Is that a reason to cut off your penis? You don’t want to be gay, and we transgender, like gayness is out of style.
Does it feel good cutting your penis off? Like months, like nab, yeah I’ll use nab. We use gay against the world. Luna! get off that girl dog. She’s humping her lesbian. No even a service to me. Look at the spell. A Rottweiler’s blind. She really gets after it. What am I saying? Please, we would not give Luna a sex change operation because of it. She’s my dog.
Why are we sex changing people? And it’s just a big mess. The social stigma of gay, or bein’ a lesbian, I don’t want it. I don’t care. I will kill you. Wow we’ve loaded this gun. Now let’s support them in this? How many children are saying that? Puberty blockers please, I’m just homosexual. I hate that. I put on gender clothes. Yeah it’s perfect. Yeah you do.
Can we sell you something else? You’re a man. You will be that when you grow up, and you’ll have these gay feelings. Why would you want to deal with them with irreversible surgery? And man, they say it’s better as a kid. The change takes that way. Hence the puberty blockers. And we look at God again. No sex between kids, so cut their dicks and pussies. Why can’t they make the decision to have sex? They can gender confuse. They can decide to remove their genitals. Why aren’t they old enough to have sex? Now a child molester touch those parts, is that really worse than a doctor cutting them off? I think you’re blind here.
You stigmatize people. That helping hand, you won’t let it out in the neighborhood. That role competition, can we first see we engage in it? A girl wants to be a boy. Why? Boys get to do more stuff. They’re the arm of society. So they bleed in the wrong bathrooms, because they have a dysphoria. They don’t wanna be girls. Has this anything to do with life, a reason for choices? You bet your sweet Bob it is. They’re gay, so many children who want to slice penises. And those girls who want to be boys, how many of them say it’s because of the muscle? Can we look at gender dysphoria please? Can we really look at it?
Let’s look at my hand. And he goes out into the water, The Fonz, and this is trick or treat. You’re doin’ it on ice. You rob people of their sleep. I think you know you’re ugly. They’d call you a freak, the transgender haters. It didn’t work did it? Just listen to your voice. It’s a weird drum, your larynx. You don’t look like people who made the stars. There’s somethin’ about you out of wack. Can you admit it didn’t work, your sex change operation? It just has you glow in an almost there.
I can’t count society’s ways. There’s too many of ‘em. I think it’s important to be gender. Don’t even catch up. I’ve watched them a million times, ‘cause it goes and knocks out one of them, it role change his whole society. I think it’s important to be gender related. I’m talking about Chris, with the power to say he’s a woman. Is that really true? Do we give people that right, just be the opposite sex? That negates society’s most structuring formula, right now. We haven’t gotten there yet, a gender equal society. We can’t force it with this change. You’re messin’ with the roles of man, the very terms of how we socially construct, and that goes deep.
You change that at the drop of a hat? Why would somebody be transphobic, who opposes it? Wouldn’t they just be normal in the field of today? Did you know that you’re askin’ a lot of people. You want them to accept your decision, based on what? These are role plays. Now it’s just if you say so. That’s the right being pushed.
Well that’s grand. It doesn’t do us any good. Okay if your vital and your mind are feminine, and your body’s not, I think we need to learn how to do that, come to that conclusion. Part of it’s inner work. But them we wouldn’t change your sex with plastic surgery. We’d allow you to express yourself as a woman, if that suited you, or at least feminine wears. We are still on the way to that. So many people just want the norm. Can you see the obstacles in your way? Can you see all this stuff?
I don’t think there are as many of you as sort out. A lot of you are just blind to the role maker, and you think you need to be reassigned. By that I mean nature works, in most cases. Now are we superstar? We can’t even get a poem across, and this is a long one. I can say anything you know. I don’t get called out— no readers.
How are things goin’? Things seem to be happening rather fast. It looks like social breakdown, but that’s been always happenin’. Oh we don’t own money. How many of us are record holders? How many of us are rocket holders? The rich own this planet, and we want them out of power. World is not a kind thing, and it’s beginning to self-destruct there are so many of us. We aggravate that. Now you can go right to the hammer and get under it, or you can lay out the change, one poem at a time, to keep this planet off roller coasters, to make sure we survive.
America especially but in the West, transgender has come to mean offend. It’s where we can see over-sensitive, in its full play. Why is that? People aren’t secure in their decisions. Well another poem underway. See that it gets to rocket science, will yah?
But I am provided in poems. Put it in the baby wash. It rules society. I’m talkin’ military hardware. We live with babies. The whole universe sticks in them we don’t see. The openness they are can start a revolution. They are so open it’s crazy in there. We just program them well. We don’t even know we’re doin’ it. This is ballpoint of society, and it is here we fuck up.
They’re strangers you see. They just lay there and fuss or pop a smile. They are closed to us. We have no idea what’s goin’ on in that baby’s consciousness. They’ve arrived from somewhere. Does this still glow in them? It’s got Heaven on it, which they slide down by degrees. They’re a soul state. They are empty room. They come from far away to land here.
They’re a Heaven’s breeze to our notion of self. We delight in them. It’s all over their face we have the power. Oh they’re tiny lords to our work schedule. They make us work. They are ever present in our garage. They are kingpins there. That’s the surprise. They bake in our dreams.
We don’t know what to do with them. They are a non-entity yet, but we love them to death. How do we handle baby? A conditioning arm. Everything we do effects them. They haven’t managed yet to filter out the world. It’s all new to them, and they rob you of your sleep. We handle them, and every touch matters. We are formin’ their identity. All their little quirks they’ll pick up from us. I don’t think science knows this yet: we cast their sexual identity in our arms. We determine it.
The action around those genitals will give the boy his love, the girl her romantic feelings. You don’t even have to touch it. They live in a soup of all this emotion, and they dance on the shores of the body your emotional fingers and hands. Your emotional awareness and hands, it could be you cannot see. You only know you’re washin’ and cleanin’ and things like that. Sometimes you kiss the life force there. It’s a magnet for your fingers, a draw, and the baby feels that pull, swims in it. You’ve determined their sexuality, I think the heaviest hand there.
Let’s swim in feelings you know. We swam usually when we’re three, and let’s pick the boy in the room. Can we call him daddy’s little lover? Their bond makes the fishes glow. It has heavy all over it. They abide awhile each other’s lover. This is way before memories are formed. Maybe it was your uncle. You don’t know. It gets squeezed sometimes, that little package you got, and his is so bright and shiny in the shower room. It’s a big muscle thing, daddy’s central hat. You’re not bein’ molested. You’re bein’ loved on, squarely and sweetly, and you love it there. It’s a special relationship, and a gay man comes out of it, like watch it glow. That man builds his life around it. We think he’s just gay. Do we open more doors?
Give that kid an orgasm and see. Oh my the baby bliss there. It can make Hitlers out of men and a mystic’s standin’ regard. Can you be a child molester? Depends on how you were molested. Was it sweet and nice, or did it throw you away? It was so beautiful my mom said, so amazingly sweet. No, sex did not enter the room. You see how blind we can be? There was sex all over that paper, but I love children a million dollars worth.
And I’ve shaped babies for yah in the frying pan, not enough to see it whole, just to know it’s goin’ on. All the variety of kids we produce, the adult they’ll be, I haven’t glowed on. Can you see this happening in society? The baby’s room, I live there, and I mean don’t we all?
And now I photograph, a photograph of ourselves on Thanksgiving Day. You really need this vision, and that’s where we change society, where that baby encounters the world. This is the cutting edge of difference. Don’t spank them don’t bleed them, don’t turn them on. Don’t even give them reason to cry, unless you can’t help them that way, and they’re in baby mood. If they see violence or hear an argument, their violence will ensue. We are rose with them when we call their name. Can everbody get this report? Baby’s Day Out, you have no idea. Baby’s Day Out, the real McCoy.
I’ve got my microphone. I’m puttin’ on my prejudices to give you infancy. It’s not all about homosexuality and gayness or look at that pedophile. It’s about somethin’ I can’t talk about. It’s got lands on it we don’t know about. I can only show you a picture that will help us along. You got that Fredrick? The baby wars, they’re a baby, and I call out war and disease that land at your backdoor, over the rainbow.
Harm's End 