To Further Science

Lisa Joy Rottweiler

Yeah we went down to everybody’s but King Lear was here.
Spiritual enlightenment,
I’m past gold card.
It’s hung up in the bank.
I just keep getting tested I’m sorry.
Now we call on rabies to get vaccinated.
Will I die?
I’m a patrol boat.
I turn everything in.
I’m strong in squares.
Everybody’s down on me yes.

All night
jazz somebody.
Is it overkill?
I’m talking about the Frenchman in the harbor,
my toe
broadcast to the world.
The muse is my bedfellow.
Stranger coming.
And I hear the voices at night.
All along the shores of reason
this infinity swirls.
I’m a gust of wind called.
I produce alphabets,
stacking up reality in pictures
that are not what you usually see.
Can you reason with them?
I’m an explosive marinade.
I paint past pictures.

I’m edifying you.
Would you laugh in thought
or take my hand?
I’m a dumbbell.
How many reps can you do?
I mean read to understand.
We are for folks.
We sing loud and clear.
We are fro friend in need.
Look at this as a gift.
A microcosm,
I’m a twilight zone.
I do pronouns bigger than you.

There are voices behind this
bigger than me.
It’s all fountain keep.
I love it in the afternoon.
Who doesn’t want to sleep at night?
I get paid.
Divine love in boxcars
show me the way.
It’s substantial rhythm
taking my life apart
and going to harmony work.
I know my own business.
And here we are.

Rolling pin anyone?
I just got so much to say.
No problem,
he’ll be joining the first one.
How for?
How could I do that?
It’s so funny,
my moon face.
Social media,
I’m a strong count here.
Of course use me.

Everybody’s model,
now, this is gonna be difficult.
What baby?
We throw in the dog,
and Luna.
Well ride ‘em on my puppy is not as single as all that.
An emergency takes aim at afterlife.
Where’s Luna,
Bruno?
No this is
Lisa.
Lisa’s like that,
is a to herself dog.

Can I get to know her?
She’s easily put.
It’s hard to put you there.
This is exploratory duty.
You need to tell Lisa you care.
Talk and say things.
Your puppy’s not gonna
order her light bulb
in the next few days.
Well we love about her.
We adore her.
I mean sound her name
every time you turn around,
she’ll grant you
some special privileges.

Why can’t she go?
She likes it
so near you.
Is she suffering?
She has all this radio station.
She is so occupied with you guys.
A lot more wood
had to be put
into the system.
Just rises in
that is the toppest dog you’re hearin’.
Keep sayin’ her name.
Lisa baby
please come with me.
This is so close:
you’ve got to be human baby.
Lisa baby,
I’m on our way.

Venture,
wow, what a year it took
bulldozers
getting people outta here.
They not deserving and not needing
synergy,
the sadhana circle.
Can we grace them please
while they go?
I hear the heart in your room.
I’ve got this incredible heart of my own
you’re not balanced with.
Bye people, go.
We used to it,
taking advantage of Steve McCoy.
Now this affects her thinking.
This is written on our desk.

That’s what I’m gonna be doin’,
gettin’ into world thought.
I do that every day.
Now I have the plans for you.
I’m gonna move in
and question reality.
Save the country,
there’s something there.
There’s a being.
The people to become better.
The being to see the world as its friend,
educated
on family.
That’s the thought,
ride family
to everybody’s related on Earth.

We finish with this blog
Harm’s End.
When he goes back up here,
now harm’s end
I will reach you.
Get ready.
Now Lisa,
I’m going to find my dog.

If you wanna touch mark on the spiritual path and be seen by future doctors
help this guy get published.
A scientist
didn’t study reality.
A seer did.

The Minister Everywhere

Pope Francis in Rome, photo Credit: AP/Alessandra Tarantino

What is it about to see a priest?
Be reviewed by God
doesn’t happen.
You’ve just been given time off
from that urge to find God.
It satisfies your religious sense,
nothing else.

That’s the big lie:
popes and priests grapple for you God.
They are the wellspring
of our inability to find God.
You must believe in them or else.
Have I mentioned the clergy?

We think they’re holy men and women.
They don’t know how to tie their shoe:
be a system unto God.
They are a profession in a bank,
are not knowledge of God.
They can show us the way to enlightenment
very few.

What do you do with them?
Helping men and women for causes just
we give them credit for.
Something in them has a calling
they’ve mistranslated into religion.

They could go deeper,
and some have.
I don’t think you would find them in today’s textbook,
but I’m sure there’s one or two out there.

So are they obstacles to God?
In a manner of speaking yes.
Desmond Tutu would not find for you revelation.
You quote man’s ways
on his greater path.
You are not a stark naked outlook on God.

So, do we just find God ourselves
unaided from God?
What is a seer?
They’ve opened God unto their lives,
can express the spoken word
they hear from on high
or from their being’s core,
the hidden speech
that labors out the world.

It is not God talking,
but it is the sound of His voice,
clear with His meanings dim,
for God cannot inhabit human speech,
but revelations still come down,
and the mystic word gives us bright hints of God.
This the seer does.

You have heard him spoken in cities,
heard her upon the mountaintop.
Can you find the inner Guide?
That’s the clergyman in every home,
the minister everywhere.
Can we come to this?
Can we be unto God?
The minister of the Earth
God everywhere.

An Open Letter to an Availability Problem

Bigelow Aerospace President Robert Bigelow talks during a press conference shortly after he and NASA Deputy Administrator Lori Garver toured the Bigelow Aerospace facilities on Friday, Feb. 4, 2011, in Las Vegas. NASA has been discussing potential partnership opportunities with Bigelow for its inflatable habitat technologies as part of NASA’s goal to develop innovative technologies to ensure that the U.S. remains competitive in future space endeavors. Photo Credit: (NASA/Bill Ingalls)

Mr. Bigelow,

I’m writing in regards to your essay contest, advertised in the New York Times and other headline media outlets, where you hope to find someone that can prove by an evidenced based argument that there is life after death. If I understand it correctly, it’s not exactly to prove, at least not in terms of the scientific method, but present the case in such a way that, at the end of the essay, the thesis will be proved ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’, meaning most sane and reasonable people would be swayed by the presentation, assuming the person isn’t lying or exaggerating, why, I’d imagine, you require those submitting to be approved beforehand and want them to have some years affiliated with a credible research organization or institution, preferably scientists, according to the NY Times article. You’re vetting your submitters. Someone from the general public without such affiliation, someone coming from the grassroots I might say, need not apply.

I am someone from the latter category, a grassroots person, but I have an essay that would not only prove beyond a reasonable doubt that death is, at the very least, a journey to somewhere, but also that time travel is possible, only here not in a machine, in consciousness. The essay ends with an example of inner body time travel, where, in a journey out of the body, I found myself inside my grandfather’s body as he died two weeks before he did, and the cause of death and location of death, everything he was doing when he died, matched what I’d experienced inside him two weeks before, and I’d told no one of it until after I’d heard he died.

The essay details the inner experiences with lucid dream that led up to the inner body time travel, years of conscious inner exploration, including a near-death experience, what opened me to the possibility of experiencing someone else’s death: I had died myself. I’d experienced what’s called being twice born in the ancient literature that concerns itself with initiation into the Mysteries, that is, I was born from my mother’s womb and born again after dying and returning to the land of the living, a death induced by an event in the inner consciousness and not by outer means, but a death nonetheless. It’s a characteristic of NDE: you return full of life and knowing death is not the end, know there is a hereafter, not believing, knowing. I should mention, though, in regards to the ancient Mysteries, that is only the initiation, the very beginning of your long journey to know the hidden and unseen, the behind, below, and above. As it was for initiates, so it is for the dead. You would imagine that such knowledge helps enable the dead to begin their quest after death, now that they know there is more.

If you haven’t experienced a NDE, then you’d be skeptical if you don’t believe in life after death to begin with, understandably. What you’re looking for you won’t find, someone to give that knowing and not just provide credible evidence to base belief on, which few today would weave into their worldview and accept as fact. It’s like people who’d been to America before Columbus, or before enough people had been there to establish beyond a doubt it was there (to the known world at the time from and a European perspective). Only a few would’ve believed them. We are in the time before Columbus in regards to not only the existence of life after death, but of the whole field of consciousness beyond the present person that we are, of a great deal of things consciousness-wise.

Will be spotted as wizards in the evolution,
a few climate changers.
You’re a pariah?
I don’t think you’ve done the business ends,
cross-examined your own consciousness.
Pay someone else to do your business,
and consciousness runs on the business model
in your end.
You hit the jackpot
you did not.

Where are we going with this?
All the dead ask this.
It’s death not revelation.
Are you sure you know where you’re going?
It isn’t to the supermarket.
Bigelow Industries,
can we consciousness the skies?
I’m not a kingpin.
I’m a ramrod.

Are you sure you know what’s at stake?
Will you evolve or not?
Bigwell Industries,
can we say he’s climbin’?
He’s got a business model,
so dead system made it.
I’m not barkin’ at your guitar.
I have direction to travel.
An evolutionary curve
calls us all in from the cold.
Open the inner consciousness Mr. Bigweld.
What brought him here?
Robots your own inner crowd,
and fought cold all evening.

A play protected by a play yard,
I’m a playwright.
Can I startle you with truth?
Mirror all the mind of God,
no dust, no mirror;
mirror all the mind of God,
nothing in-between—
the 5th Patriarch
seeing beyond himself.
Now I give you “The Epic of Man”.

Look at the Outcast

Adolf Hitler 1933

Infant Orgasm,
Infant Orgasm You See

(Note: from July 2016 to December 2016, I posted seer poems on Facebook written specifically for our educational page Harm’s End. I know FB was aware of the posting at the time, because some poems were boosted and had to go through Facebook’s review process, with one being rejected, one about the prophet Mohammad, although FB did not take it down or flag it in any way. On August 4, 2020, I copied all the poems, along with their images, to my computer, and a day later a poem from 2016 was taken down for violating their community standards, showing me my activity was being closely monitored by FB. I then deleted any image I thought FB might object to, unaware that an image of Hitler is now flagged by FB as a matter of course. That it is now but wasn’t in 2016 reflects a growing trend of censorship on the net. It won’t be long before anything that seriously questions the generally accepted reality construct or tires to introduce things that construct isn’t seeing and doesn’t want to will be banned from the major social media platforms and taken as far as possible out of the public eye. In other words, the net will become like TV.

This poem along with this image was posted on FB September 10, 2016. It was flagged August 15, 2020, but not taken down, citing it violated their community standards, and I edited it the following day, adding material in brackets within the poem that explain the poetry, to make it clear I wasn’t violating their community standards. Within 10 minutes after editing it, our page Harm’s End was unpublished. Although this poem fits into a poetic conversation on my FB feed and is out of context to post here by itself, I’m posting it here to protest the censorship of art and poetry on Facebook and on the net in general, in this case, poetry whose purpose it is to heal, not harm, however controversial it may be.)

Executive order.
Anyway she just surprised me.
Hitler, the 1st letters of incest,
rape.
It started World War II.
Half the money
the gate come open.
What come out?
I know it,
the material,
the material of war,
the material of concrete war.

Incest gun,
check it out.
That’s not a gift.
It’s an orgasm
your mom gives ya,
or your dad,
an adult in the family.
The house owner
outside of somethin’.
It’s American.
We know it’s German.
It’s also England,
all countries,
just a story on it
broken.
You wouldn’t hit everybaby,
enough to organize
the required material.
Is that war?
You said it baby.

It’s German
under the feet.
That means it’s right there:
kill ‘em,
thousands gas.
Bring them on the table
but be careful.
Daddy was good wasn’t he
or mommy special?
We do this in an orderly fashion.
Got that right.
Just line ‘em up
and shoot ‘em,
terrible.
I’m gonna
keep comin’.
What’s this?
An orderly compound,
an orderly room.
Procedure, procedure?
And we built the gas chambers,
and we built
orgasm.

Give that kid
trouble,
not between his legs,
not
now,
not now.
Look out the window.
Go to the door.
It needs an umbrella:
the night of the generals.
They have a very detailed IQ.

THEY.
People are bad.
Not everybody.
He doesn’t like,
he has a very knowledgeable
presence with Jews.
Art school,
they wouldn’t let ‘im in.
Art college,
they wouldn’t let him in now.
Okay make them unworthy,
lump them with all the undesirables,
society’s degenerates,
but blame them for everything.
They are the masterminds
of all that’s wrong with the world,
of all that’s wrong with our country.

[understand the poetry: those are Hitler’s views, not the poet’s.]

Fell down –
see a war,
a war,
a world war:
give to me
my mountain.

You have to understand
orgasm.
It changes war.
It’s a blitzkrieg
of physical pleasure
on an I unformed.
One second.
There’s an I.
Is there
more like the animal I.
Is that me?
That building centerfold
the earth
is removed from the scene.
I’m a baked chump,
burn in a holocaust of pleasure.

Understand
repeated action,
all this mess over time.
It has a tendency
to rob you of pleasure,
organize your role
an antenna
to try and get things in order,
down
if you know what I mean,
not up in the sky.
Look at
the nice uniforms,
the insignia,
the roll of tanks.

You’ve been robbed you see,
and that damage,
and you in ego formation,
and God did it,
your parent.
Any questions Paramount?
That’s it.

(There is, it should be understood, a personal interpretation to this poem throughout, since, in truly inspired art, in seer poetry especially, it’s at bottom, however remotely, also about the artist. In this light, the verse about Hitler being rejected from art college and subsequently scapegoating all Jews because of that can also be interpreted to be about the refusal of my entire society, Jews, non-Jews, everybody, to let me into the art of the day, but the personal interpretation isn’t tit for tat with the poem, as it just lights upon it here and there. If you want to know how the personal interpretation applies to the main subject of the poem, infant orgasm, read this comment I posted on Medium before my Medium account is also suspended, because I color outside the lines.

If you want to know the occult truth behind Hitler, read the book The Light That Shone Into the Dark Abyss by Maggi Lidchi-Grassi, 1994, Sri Aurobindo Ashram Press (not available to read online). Facebook, which almost a third of the world’s population uses, has such an unwarranted and inequitable influence over the knowledge that we pass around, and it (like not only the other online mega-businesses, but also the major news outlets and the great majority of the entertainment industry I might add) is in its core beliefs reductionist materialist, however many employees it has that doesn’t hold those beliefs. If that’s not enough, it’s in it for profit, and if Facebook encounters material that makes people feel uncomfortable, a loss of profit steps in and makes the decision, and even if it doesn’t violate its policies, FB will simply ban it. Now, the truth of us, the good, the bad, and the ugly, it might hurt to hear it, you know?

Is the human matter finished? I mean, is there anything more to discover about us other than the fundamental beliefs that we’ve built human society upon, and those are that we are individual human islands expendable to the sea of humanity and inconsequential compared to it, islands possessing an absolute freewill and a consciousness that doesn’t extend beyond the island that we each are, and, in the intrinsic ground of who we are, we are nothing more than that island? Here we are at the cutting edge of humanity. This is the denied knowledge trying to gain entry: there is more to discover about us, and we are more than that.

I’ll end with an analogy to put the subject matter of this poem into a context that will make what I’m attempting here more apparent:

“This thing no one ever talks about before, and when we are the first ones to talk about it, there are a lot of people that think this thing shouldn’t be touched, this thing is you know, sacred, and the people that think you are going too far, and all of these people are going to undermine our movement, for sure.” Quote from a Thai protester in Bangkok speaking to a BBC reporting about protesters questioning the power of the Thai monarchy. Source: BBC video “Thai protests: Thousands join rally in Bangkok”, 17 Aug 2020.)