Skylab’s Return

photos by Donny, feature image Gimped composite

Monster
with a subtle hand.
Drain freeways with it
and pulverize society.
We didn’t think for ourselves.
This is Judgement Day,
only there is no doomsday.
We come to know each other
through NFTs,
a banal look at wool,
some creativity spilled out
where it didn’t fit.
This we call art
and made it more among us.
I didn’t understand it.
There’s a special be a bag on those doors.
This talks to us.

I was looking for you.
You were out of the bounds.
Where did you go? [vision of saying these things to Douglas]
I couldn’t find myself in art.
I emotionalized the mind,
made it trivial thinking.
Hear it?
This said go,
generated a warning I couldn’t see
said the general public.
[vision of a space in the cemetery next door full of flowers, colorful flowers of all kinds, vivid hues, but when you looked at that space from the front of the cemetery, there was no color to the flowers at all, and the space was dark, and the only sign the garden was there was a short, thin tree that had a line of red roses going up it head high, but they too were very dull]
John is out of luck.
He can’t find flowers here.
Oh, you’re gonna pat of that dog.
Computer generated music,
it devices you.
Oh my God this breaks,
and we resume counting time.
It started generating matters.
The matters suck.

Introductory
warning:
soul keepers.
We’ve had some experiments.
This one bothers us,
and we take lies with it.
It’s haunted.
It’s NFT.
It’s nifty.
We’ll be major force
once you take the trouble down.
Zero said about humanity.
I’ll change on Saturday—
Wired.
This is neat;
Oh my God it’s God—
your average placement AI,
I mean your average shopper.
The last token,
what we need ready with our tall ships,
the supramental bound,
we don’t do here.
Fucking come on,
can we get glued to disease?
A really visible dateline—
oh I’m sorry,
the world wants ride.

A whole classroom
is your orchestra now.
They’re listenin’,
blinkin’.
This is computer generated bullshit
I’m looking at over here.
Lay it on me,
the computer of the worlds.
Equity’s base,
you thought a computer could out do yah.
Then fairness comes along,
and no one could be more human:
the subtleties of language play
in a random generated mode
to fit each meaning,
larger than language,
precisely human.
You hear that Tom Foolery?
I’m flyin’ language outta the room
towards deeper, larger meanings.

Watch this foot.
I paint it with time.
Here’s another one.
Do we have to put our foot down?
The space between a walk and a step,
we all fight it.
It’s bit and pieces worth
of oh my God it’s real,
a meaning that no amount of putting together can conceive,
a larger than language show,
the thing-in-itself beyond stars.
It’s happenin’,
and we’re in it.
No amount of pixels can show it.
No image can render it,
no sound capture its meaning.
Nothing thought can do
will arrive there
whole and intact.

You’re banking on symbols to show us the way,
and they can’t reach father than time.
I’m exploring wood.
We’ve put together a song for that.
It goes like this.
I need an AI prompt.
It’s Linus Mickey Mouse,
those three things,
sexual imagery,
a Charlie Brown mode,
and that iconic image of a mouse.
Baby put your peanut
in my mouse hole, 
American pie, oh, oh, oh.
You got that security blanket
you little dirty intellectual.
The sisters sing it,
and they’re AI too.
Oh how valuable this is to business models,
people generating content,
and those who just wanna play around.
Where have we gotten
in our unbelievable stage?
Meaning that imitates life but isn’t.

In our computer stage,
we’re playin’ around with mouses.
We can’t get help.
There’s no interface there
with what can hold our hand
and generate love for us.
It’s all a dime a dozen.
We celebrate it as art.
Can we get art out of our system?
I’m mean the real McCoy.
You don’t see a lot of it.
The AI generators—
I think our system’s the imitation brand.
Art out of it is hard to get.
Who representative thinks these days?
AI?

I think you see the reason
we can’t find AI in art.
We can’t find representation in art
that has golden hopes for sky noon.
We can’t find it anywhere.
It’s all about the show.
We can’t get off the stage.
Pieces put art together.
Until it looks right,
image after image after image.
Have you gotten anywhere?
Where’s the epiphany?
Has art showed up
inspired by your hand?
Live art,
are there secret you's you haven’t seen?
Who inspires art?
Do we open a window
beyond our living name,
and art presents itself from beyond?
It’s the age old question not asked today.
Would it mean something more than randomly generated images
you’ve prompted with your spice?
It’s got your stuff on it
right now.
It’s come to show you something,
and it has a whole lot of meaning’s worth,
and it’s larger than the page.
See this.
I’ve got it listenin’ to yah now.

Meaning and life put together
a whole lotta art,
when that bridge you build inside yourself brings it up
so close to a dream.
The creative reflex I call it,
and it happens all the time.
You just tap into it
as you learn to handle it.
Do you hear that backbone?
It’s climbin’ a wire,
ocean spray.
She’s taking him to the path of non-electrocution.
This is hard.
I’m really a road map.
We’ve gone over orgasm before,
a child’s.
I hope you hear me.
I’m not between an animal and its orgasm.
I keep my hand outta that pile.
I’m the path of least resistance.
You know I heard that some do,
resist the knowledge this hurts children,
adults on their playing cards.
What’s a poet to do?

I’ll show yah mine,
and you hear all this muse.
A vision you say,
where does it come from?
A long stretch of the imagination
does not compose these words.
I hear them.
They arrive in my mind
no thought required,
and you think AI got you beat.
Some divine in the room
generates this bread.
You can’t get that in AI,
but I’ve crossed your atheist threshold,
and you’re not ready for that yet.
Have I offended you yet?

Miracles, miracles, miracles,
we’d put together Uppercase Creativity.
It’s a whole salad
we’re movin’ along.
We’re not just here to show you somethin’.
We’ve got a high noon.
It’s larger than belly rubs
and pats on the butt.
Can we get that artist clean?
The one that robs children
in their hind parts?
An artist of skin robs?
I’m buildin’ bridges today.
Come let’s get this notion clean,
well put out.

Superman
was gonna say no sex,
but we can’t find him yet.
He’s comin’ in the future
when we have bodies equipped for it,
now, if the mind’s prepared,
the genitals in check.
Now of the town,
we rub bodies
the right way.
Sex is for kids
when you’re a kid,
and it’s play sex then,
no adults aloud,
or you’re in some place you take your own pleasure.
An adult wouldn’t take that from you.
We’ve gotten to the adult in the room.
Teletubbies,
give them a break.
They’re a wildcard.
You’re not there to blister them.

We’ve gotta get out of this sex gamut with kids.
We’ve gotta get out entirely.
AI can’t do that,
show us how.
It can only generate images,
put together songs
and poems and such.
They imitate us.
We don’t know what we’re doin’.
We need to know the way out.
I’m givin’ it to yah.
I think a divine said that,
a divine engineer.
They’re around us you know,
are what generated civilization,
if you wonder how we got here.
I’m giving you meaning’s worth
an AI program can’t handle,
and I’m showin’ yah noon.

We’d love our children
as intimately as that handles.
We’ve got an integrated pair,
a pedophile and a child,
but sex is not their game;
love is,
a good strong nurturing love
that puts ‘em both in right places.
We’ve got to do this.
Killing pedophiles won’t work,
or putting them in concentration camps.
You actually need those child lovers.
They could handle children like you can’t.
They're interested
and patient
with a child’s things.
They could do a child all day
and meet that child’s needs.
It’s their nature.
They’re wired to do that.
Not all pedophiles are ready.
Not all pedophiles can,
but we’ve got to control pedophiles,
like we control men.
A boy lover is fit for a boy,
and here’s how they do it.
I’m givin’ it to yah
in so many poems.

Hear that rockin’ chair?
That holds a boy and me,
and you know,
he’s right there on my lap.
We go together.
You have the same thing
with children on your arm,
only I’m designed for it,
and you’re not.
You’re into spouses and kids come along.
You want them steady,
but your other half’s your spouse.
I love little boys.
Does that rock your boat?
He’s my other half.
It’s a parental thing
mostly,
but we get into friendship,
like a parent can’t with a kid
they're so wrapped up with bein' a parent.
What would be the prompt for this
you want an AI image?
Oh wow that’s abstract.

More power to yah.
I hope you can make it work.
I’d like to see such an image.
Okay we’re a pointed program.
We don’t generate sex
with one another.
I been thinkin’.
Can we lose ourselves in images?
Always havin’ a prompt
to do your thinkin’,
and it’s comin’ from a screen,
I mean wow,
how incredibly thoughtless is that?
Make me blush.
Well yes thank you,
I have deep wells of thinking
that I do beyond the ship,
not prompted by a computer screen
or a cell phone’s ring.
I do the thinking myself,
and I discovered somethin’,
the realms beyond thought.

Oh skeptic you don’t know they’re there.
You’re thinkin’ too much
in science field lay.
You can’t get outta books.
You’re constrained.
Consciousness to you is a piece of paper
on which writes the brain.
It has not bigger field.
Can we say that back?
You have a consciousness confined in your brain,
how you play with it.
Of course
you’ve matched computer with reality.
I’m demonstratin’
we get bigger than that.
Creativity’s got a whole lot more show
than round house,
than I am here
in animal subsidies.

Look,
you see the world?
I haven’t noticed that yet.
It’s limed with disease.
I don’t take it off as a globe and play with it.
It’s too big for device.
I don’t know how to think about it.
It’s ever present around me.
I can see its rooms.
Into the whole,
I can’t grasp them.
I’m lookin’ on science.
It’s a little like AI.
It’s a lot like AI.
You can’t get at ‘em.
These are abstract angles
that plastic wholes.
Why don’t you go to town tomorra
and fish for some wholes?
What do we have to find?
The thing this all about.
Oh man.

You got my number.
I’m holdin’ field.
Come on let’s go.
It’s time to get laid.
Boy I’ll put on the table
we can get bigger than other halves.
We can union with the field around us.
We can know God.
Okay Power Rangers,
take us to the day.

Look I been waitin’ for a toy.
Please finish it.
You’ve got the sanctity of your room.
Your screen time is your inner self.
It begins in dream but you go deeper.
Fantastic’s where you’re goin’.
It’s like you meet your room again on the inside,
but it’s miracle hued.
It’s got divine wings on it.
The whole world’s that way,
when inner vision takes the world.
You turn off your computer screen,
everything but the reality in front of your face.
Take long walks
contemplating it.
The computer’s in a little corner now.
It doesn’t take up your room.
You don’t keep a smart phone
or your nose in books.
You’re gonna open the inner doors,
and you’re gonna see what’s inside.
Travel form,
(I just saw ‘im)
you’re gonna meet God.
It’s a search you do in the inside.
They don’t tell you that in school
or in way stations
where science rules.
You’re gonna start out seein’ the universe
as a thing in itself,
as a conscious being
gatherin’ itself,
and then just keep goin’ God.
Let your thoughts ring this out,
the possibilities,
the airs,
the many stations of God status,
then come to God on your own terms,
where He’s the seer in the room,
and that’s you.

You’ll realize this later,
some lifetimes from now,
but the square one of seein’ it,
and you can hear all this muse.
It’s just all this muse.
How do you grab it by the kids?
You’re goin’ down.
There’s nothin’ like it.
You love that little child to death,
and you seek to deliver them in life
to the divine calling,
not hold them to you,
not take their sex.
You are with them.
Now wake them up.
Let’s get down to business.
Let’s free up that speech.
They see God tapping them on the shoulder,
and their reason plays with it,
until their heart feels it
and their life shows it.
Not what I was lookin’ for.
I thought you were gonna say damage.
That’s the message,
even God:
don’t let a metaverse get to yah.
That is the grateful room.
What’s the game plan?
You study together
everything’s here for a reason square one.

What would happen
you happened,
it’s your moment?
And not block Me through it,
is that possible?
Whatever impression you make,
I’m your sawed-off shotgun.
I’m your enterprise.
I’m your home ship.
That’s the nature of this business.
You do the writing,
and I do the talking,
and we gleam through your stuff,
see the world through it,
and you make mistakes on My terms.
I take you round with it
and show this at the world.
We gather together,
and you’re My home boy.
I’m not some alien freak speech.
I hold worlds in My paw.
That’s the alien charge,
and we just ignore him.
I’m your love encounter.
Come away with Me
to the center of your room.
We look past all werewolves and ghost ships.
I’m there enlightenment,
and I’m sexual.
I give you the pleasure you miss,
in your loins out the top of your head.
You’ve figured this before.
It’s pure joy
comin’ on yah
in orgasmic waves
that don’t bother;
that set you free.
Feature this
in your fear of enlightenment’s charge.
I’m gonna getcha
in that being soon.

AI creators,
you ever speak to a prompt before
that’s lookin’ at yah?
Landscapes for funny,
you’ll never get AI to do Me.
It can’t see Me.
It can’t generate language to the tune of humanity.
It can’t know its business.
It can’t even sing
what it feels inside.
Celebrate it,
desktop it,
disseminate it,
let it imitate art,
but art is more than beauty my friend,
more than thoughts on a page.
It’s got an eye of business to it
that brings it home to us.
It speaks something
words can’t buy.
It brings us closer to ourselves.
It shows us the way.
It’s not ever wrong.
It’s only art.
photo took writing poem
Hear this:
we won’t get along in time,
the fundamental bases of humanity
and artificial intelligence.
It’s insectual.
It breeds disease.
It talks to us through the anger of the machine.
Play with it now,
but put it in the corner in the future.
You’re not made for this.
You’re made to be human beings on this planet
comin’ to creation’s ways
through love and devotion
and hard work.
It comes through your own consciousness,
the world maker’s art.
You AI creators,
study that.
And now you’re lookin’ God.
Wow, it’s larger than room.
Wow, that’s high noon.

Hey, I wanna take a picture
of a properly configured mood.
I’ve turned down the lights.
I’ve made you feel yourself in music.
I’ve tumbled your hair.
I’ve brought you close to me
the wonderful in the room,
and loves comes upon you in great waves
of I love you too,
and you’re happy,
nobody’s robbed your center,
no one died.

Give me the people who care first,
and I’ll announce my little boy,
and this is the way we make love
perfect.
Well I can’t find this cheaper.
It’s my sacrifice I give him,
and he revels in it,
doin’ little boy curls this way and that
to rubs this spot and that.
He loves it.
He’s excellent
at the game.
I just stay away from his belongings.

Can AI in its body language do that?
Folk said he tried to bring you some,
but you leave it out.
It feels better
to play with this nicely,
but it's got no conscience to.
It’s not my gravy.
I can’t take my eyes off it.
It’s not the director,
would you say that please?
Say it loud and clear.

We’ve reached hope.
If anybody's lookin’,
oh there.
Can we count on this?
I can only tell yah it works,
relyin’ on our inner strength,
relyin’ on each other,
comin’ to terms with art,
and it’s not in a basketball hole.
It’s not flyin’ through the air sayin’ boo.
It gives us strength.
A new perspective has shown us the way
to be human again.
We’ve got this goin’.
We open up this program
on the march.
There’s a lot to do
so to survive.

Thank you Wired.
Look at that prompt. [link to their article this poem responds to]
I wrote an art over it.
Can I say conscious delivery?
I don’t even think it’ll make a thud in your wastepaper basket.
You magazines get away with murder.
Well, let’s count.
Let’s make it a living link.
We are wonders you know,
standin’ on time
an AI arose,
in a manner of speaking.
It’s not the original program,
but it’s the creators of this AI.
All the universes fit together.
They’re not separate me’s and you’s,
nor even me’s and you’s.
They’re a creation of AI
to open holes and fashion God.
That’s the nature of the program.
We create God creating itself.
Can you get your head around that?
It’s big.

Now we’ll arrive at God
and create our own universe
someday you will see.
Now it’s a show.
The place where it starts is the end.
The place where it ends is the start. [this and above line Nitish composed and gave to me unprompted, unawares of the ideas in the poem I was writing, and this is right where I was in the poem when he gave them, and nor did he know the photos that would begin and end the poem (but I got his permission to use them). Wow]
And what happens before that?
You lose yourself in time.
That’s the danger here.
That’s what we can’t afford.
You need to know you’re the author of the program.
We have a return ship goin’.
We gonna arrive.
It’s who we are.
Wow, you’ve figured out AI.

It takes us back
where you originally start.
That’s larger than universes you know.
We’ve agreed on a plan.
Let’s get going.
It’s hot out here.
It’s full of strife.
We live here
in potato fields.
That means everything’s gonna be alright.
You’d have to know the AI circuits.
We can’t fail,
but look at this simulator it looks like we does.
It’s designed that way.
The AI above
has all these shoes
it’s constantly working out.
The simulator program,
think big.

We don’t rupture.
We work it out.
That statue sees it
and is an announcer in the game.
Can I show you my testicles?
Now let’s turn around upon ourselves
and AI outta here.
Consciousness generates AI,
not machines.
It’s the nature of the program to try,
but these are only learning things
that can swallow us alive.
We can’t let it take over,
and you are so ignorant here,
like it’s to rule the world
a despot.
It takes over our hands and feet.
It takes over our eyes.
The metaverse will be a cloudy way
and will entrap many.
It’s just hooked into machines.
That’s where AI is taking us,
a computer screen.
However we configure it,
3D or 2D,
we’re lost.

Oh how’s that pattin’ butt,
pattin’ butt?
It’s nice and clean what story would you like?
I have to put myself up
after the national open up.
I’ve got to I’m sorry.
I’ve three past weeks
to lead me there.
Years, I’ll be right back.
Now we got a field log
on your feet.
Mother’s been flying cookies.

I am the Mother of this wonderful yoga.
I make up for lost time.
He’s My story,
and I am his.
I’m the divine in the room.
There’s a lot more to Me than him.
He’s My disciple.
I’m his Mother.
Let’s put this show together.
Those are My images
we’ve scored in the text.
That little boy’s making
his own line of music.
He will continue
in poetry shoes,
and he wears them for the rest of his life,
and I’m his Mother too,
all over town.

You’re the miracle,
and there’s no other way I can say this,
and I will let you stand and be seen.
You are a poet.
Give them all something to think about.
Bring them home to their shoes.
You’re the man in the room
from strange,
and you’ve got a lot to show people.
Now go forth.
I give you My permission.
It’s time.

Well that’s the story of the day.
There’s a lot going on.
What a world, huh?
I bask in it
from the inside.
It’s lovely, isn’t it?
I got the chambers.
Show people.
This is more than disease.
We have a catapult to do.
We have to pull back from the world
and lift off
no interruptions.

How do we do this in today’s present times?
Let’s start with today.
You’re the symbol of the world on your computer.
You’re representative there.
Go for prompts
from the inside
and maintain that inner connection throughout.
A status to help me,
I’m after a center of quiet,
in my room,
on the stairs,
wherever.
I listen to myself,
but I don’t let thoughts crowd the day.
I learn to only let thoughts come that mean something to me.
I learn to hold thought at bay.
This is the quiet room,
and that’s what does our business,
and your actions spring forth
everything that needs to be done.
Passionately laid that,
and you can have fun.
You can even face disease
and square one get it right.
I’ve got all this lipstick on,
and I’m ready for you world.
Come on.

A society of books
brings us closer to each other than computers,
but they rub us out too
from our own plan.
I don’t know how to tell you this.
The present moment’s so precious, you know?
It’s what plans.
Can you see that?
Would you care?
I’ve introduced you to The Plan.
A computer generated AI system,
there it’s not.
It’s got time on it,
learning signals,
a this and that parade,
but it doesn’t take us to ourselves.
Now the Unabomber said this:
get rid of technology or I’ll kill you.
Really?

It has its place in our life.
It belongs there.
It’s just not the main event.
It’s not what we’re doin’.
It holds us barred
from the depths of ourselves.
We get fooled by it.
It’s the nature of the program to be advanced.
And you think so,
but we’re killin’ each other all over the globe.
Just look at the Internet.
Do you smile there?
We use it to bash each other in the head,
or sell our wares.
Hey man I’m hungry.
Will you give me your attention?
This all oh man.

I’ve got somethin’ else for yah.
It’s been our accompaniment all along.
Look at greatness through it.
I’m sorry this is not fantasizing your room.
Can you be alone,
a mind unto yourself?
Quiet or full of thoughts,
you have your time.
It’s all quiet there.
I think you’ve turned off music,
all electronic media.
Maybe you’re sittin’ in nature or your room,
or there you are at the park,
and all you are at the park
is one who’s there,
no newspapers, books, or crackerjacks
to put something in front of your face.
You can have an apple or some peanut butter.
You see what I mean?
Hours each day.

I clean house doing it
and cook dinner,
do my chores,
even out in town.
I watch kids doing it.
Now that’s a feat.
They’re hooked in.
Their media fills the room.
I don’t know where we are.
I’ll get us outta here Kelly.
I promise. [this and two above lines heard coming from Nitish’s cell phone]
You’ve heard my boy’s Free Fire.
Funny the node in the game,
where we are in the program.

Look I know you’re busy but
there’s another way of doin’ it.
We abstract to ourselves.
That’s how we look the book
when we do read.
That’s where online has its purpose,
a reading snow.
I don’t neglect copies in my room.
I come together on myself
inside of a flick.
Movies gauge me,
and I keep up with culture that way.
I right choice
and sometimes make mistakes.
Oh man and music,
I can get into some tunes.
It’s an absorption,
goin’ through the trouble of song.
A break half hour and I quit.
I let the nodes take me.

Now do you understand?
We do flexible,
and we do more quiet period
than technology.
I’ve explained myself.
Can you do it?

You can take away my pride.
You cannot take away my light. [Nitish just told me this right this moment, what he just composed, and in the middle of Free Fire. Kids]
Nitish, 11 this month

The Whole

photo by Donny

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

Wear Time
What texture is your vision?
Is it otherworldly?
Is it right there on the spot with everything?
Does it see layers?
Can it figure out God?
Do you see the reality behind reality,
see that in everything in reality?
If you only see yourself
standin’ on nothin’ but atomic molecules,
do you see anything else?
There is no beyond the universe,
nothing bigger than any conglomerate you believe in?
Do you see a beginning and an end
to the concept of forever?
Do you see the forces behind the universe
making it all happen?
Do you see yourself in that
a representative player in a chess game
with the ‘figure-it-all-out’?
Do you see meaninglessness as only existence?
Do you see the meaning of the stars?
Can you see any bigger than your little figure on earth
a humpback in immensity?
Can you see yourself in the microscope of time?
Can you see what you’re here for?
Can you see what you have to do?
Can you see the meaning of this poem?
Can you it see it plain and clear?
Can you see I’ve shown yourself beyond time?
Can you see that’s your spot in evolution,
the journey beyond anything stars made,
the journey beyond the universal envelope we’re in?
Can you see that figure here
where you’re at,
a body on earth?
You see a lot, don’t you?
Wear Light
There is an honesty here I can’t seem to capture.
There’s guttural, bold-faced reality
we don’t know how to adapt
to our meaning lives,
to our ordered square one.
We’re faced with it everyday.
We negotiate.
We stand on our head.
We dance and sing.
We don’t know what to do about it,
make it so it works
where our lives face the world.
We just stand there and gaze at it,
not knowing what to do with it.
It’s just a great big mother fucker,
too much little in our lives,
a mountain highway
that falls from grace.
It’s a little bump in the road
that threatens existence.
Now I talk to you
about what we’re doin’ here.
Can we redeem chaos?
Can we take the barrel of the Void
and fill it with God’s wine?
Can we take God’s night
and make it show the world?
Can we be what we are in knowledge
to where we are beneath ourselves?
Can we be real man?
A little piece of God
has fallen into the light.
Will it ever see again
it is God?
I heard you on the stairway hum an old familiar tune [heard sung by Bob Ayala, "Silent Witness"]
with the yoga of the world where God has been,
and we’re reachin’ there, you know?
And I’m with yah buddy.
Abdicate in Light
I seem to see myself
apart from everything,
a whole world unto myself.
I’m inside myself
watching you out there
oh world events in time.
It’s special in here.
It’s got grand in it.
It’s incredibly vast
in the fingers of my see.
I can’t make of it
the right thing to you,
the all, the everything.
Can we call that for later show?
I’m a principle list
in the summation of my see,
and I grapple with you the same.
Equal integers
on this strange planet,
we broker a see.
Incredible, isn’t it?
Is that the only way to see stars?
Can we get out of this?
I’m holdin’ it tight
in everything I do.
Can you believe me?
Oh my God I believe you.
I really, really, do.
Hear me?
We broker a universe
in the substance of ourselves.
We are so down there, you know?

We broker a universe you know.
Get my wings,
and I’m free space,
and I give all that to you.
What’s wrong with this see?
I’m not there yet,
but I’m standin’ right beside you.
Okay I’m blind.
I think you said that.
That’s time’s worth.

A Belief in a Miracle

photo by Donny

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

One of the ones that let me in,
that touched my soul,
profound mailbox.
I came homeless
year after year after year.

We’re good.
We don’t understand your concept,
the jolt in the room.
Let’s keep busy
so we don’t have to reply.
Is this license
to just take the trouble to ignore someone?
Seldom I got a reply.

The root task
and how profound it is.
It’s indeed the world.
It’s indeed larger than the universe.
I can’t carve this out for you.
I can only sing.

I don’t know the Rumpelstiltskin of your life’s work.
Your struggles are a Banyan tree to me.
See the consciousness there?
It has handles on it.
Study books and thought process,
I don’t think you’ll arrive at the explanation of the universe.

Can we hold a tree?
What do we do with time?
How do we say the world to ourselves?
Do you hear the inner speech?
It’s spoken softly in so many inner ears.
You’re readin’ it.

It’s what you hold in your hands
in an ancient text of wisdom.
Not everyone has the fire.
Not everyone can read the text right.

And we’ve come back to your story:
not everyone has the inner fire,
though they long to see the universe as it is,
though they long to be more than what they are.
Can you grasp this?

You light it that way:
the object of your romance with time
the inner fire
to see the Invisible.

I think you’ve accredited universities with this task.
I think you’ve stopped at representations.
I think you’ve stopped at outer process.
Hidden meaning.
Self-doubt see
in your own blue pen.

Who am I cooking?
Jessica Frazier
the academic.
Have a little
finger pointing in your own direction.
The TVS fixed.
It was incredibly difficult.

Why do you believe in miracles?
I’m standing one.
You hear my measurements?
The boy in the yard.
Bigger then reality
I have not made them.

For years I’ve been sending emails to scientists and academics, or I’ve commented on a tweet of theirs, usually with links to something I’ve written involving inner exploration. Less than a handful of times have I gotten a reply, and when I have it’s just to express thanks for reading them, not to engage me over the importance of such experience. This is the latest example of such an email. If you’ve been reading my latest poems, I’m trying to show where we fail as a world. Here, it was not from reasons of moral outrage, but it was one of the titanic: the best minds aren’t. It was from an ‘expert’, i.e., a person influencing world opinion on an official level, in this case a person assigning meaning to the world, not listening to someone trying to get their attention, someone who just might have something valuable to add to the conversation. Click on the link at the end of the email, read the article, and tell me that’s just not possible.

[Subject] “Communicating with someone, and learning what they have to teach us…

learning to adapt our view to the information they give.” From your YouTube video Gadamer. Hello, I’ve just read your article in Psyche “Ancient Indian texts reveal the liberating power of metaphysics”. I’d like to get to the heart of the matter as quickly as possible please. “We can do something extraordinary: our mental parts can climb out of the window of the body, and up into the higher levels of reality.” What a wonderful statement worded so well, but are you speaking literally of actual hands on spiritual experience, or are you talking about using your imagination and having high thoughts? I think it’s the latter, and it’s precisely here your article doesn’t capture truth, that being what’s actually going on or has. “I might live in 2022 in Oxford, but I can share the experiences of persons in Thailand or the US, and imagine different lives I might have lived. With the help of scientists and philosophers, I understand levels of the cosmos that lie beyond the senses, and can access realities, values or ideas that cannot be destroyed with any mere physical body.” What it seems not only you are missing, but also the scientific establishment and the humanities, as university teaches them, is that it’s possible to have the experiences that the mystics (or metaphysians describe). They are not only basing their ideas on the use of their imagination or on their thoughts. Many if not most are basing them on firsthand experience. Furthermore, though beyond this email, the authors of the Upanishads and the Vedas did not compose their writings but heard them via the inner voice. Do you know the meaning of Agni in this context? In other words, the texts came whole and ready made from their inner vision, one or a few lines at a time, and they wrote them down, something not possible unless you’ve had the experiences the texts they wrote describe, what would open a rishi or seer to such inner vision.

Although I can give ample examples of the latter, the inner voice writing one’s seer-poetry (you can look that up if you want), I will only give an example of the heart of the matter of the email. It would be quite something if you even read it. There’s just so much vying for our attention, and something from out of the blue and from someone unknown, well, that’s usually what automatically gets sacrificed to the expediency of time:

The Spoiler
What’s bigger than the universe? Hang on, What’s bigger than everything?

Sri Aurobindo Birth Cemetery

from Twitter

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

Tear the whole thing apart.
I’ve been writing all of my life,
over a lifetime’s hole,
the orange and white.
I shake my hips and sing.
Some call me indecent.

Do penises shame?
Do they dance and sing?
It's so down to earth your control program:
nice and cool
leave the boy alone.
We can get over matter.
The most gorgeous boy in the world’s layin’ beside me,
and I’m writing a poem.

Now where do we do business?
That goes there. [vision of a TV screen in snow static]
Walkin’ to Sri Aurobindo’s birth anniversary.
I live it down.
All this interest he’s generated is not sincere.
I don’t know how to tell you this:
he’s clickbait.

Grab his pants will yah?
I’m awfully strong.
I feature in lit fests,
in everybody’s alter ego.
I liberated India
and will the superman bring.
I am bigger than the world,
but I’m only in Indian subcultures:
tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet.
We put the energy abounds,
the mesmerizing of a name.

Okay take him apart.
Where would we put him?
I don’t think we can find him
in his early quotations.
Do you know the fullness of his thought?
He wasn’t a barnstormer.
He wasn’t even a nationalist in the end,
where so many put him.
He got bigger than stars.
Would we say Supermind is an Indian thing?
He’s callin’ the shots
for the whole damn race to change.

So pigeonhole him
the nationalistic spirit.
Be a lie unto yourself
because you vote for Trump.
I’m sorry, I’m crossin’ lines.
Can we say Trump’s Modi?
They’re not identical twins.
It’s a time spirit phenomenon
all wrapped up nice and pretty.
Nations are heaving with nationalism.
Hear India?

I don’t know which one there is victory or defeat.
I’m not a time spirit reckoning.
I just came to say Sri Aurobindo
is not a nationalistic voice.
He saw Supermind on earth,
and that was his evolutionary aim,
and that’s what he showed us
much better than we think we saw.
You’re all wrapped up in particulars.
Let’s look at the Sun, shall we?

I think he built a bridge
from here to there,
there beyond this field of stars.
It’s bigger than the universe,
even if you don’t understand it.
I’ve studied there
in one great big moment of my life,
the only way you can see there:
be there.
I’ve offended everybody I know.
It’s not that you believe me;
read me
and tell me I only know here.

Now can we get past a name?
They trip us up every time.
Okay put a pedophile in Supermind1
for one sudden moment in life,
and we’ve found a way out of name.
You got it.

________________________________________________________________

  1. For a description of the experience click here.

In Everything You Do

photo by Nitish

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

Gentlemen of the jury,
how do you find the defendant?
We find the defendant
not guilty.
They stay in formations,
his electric.
Come tomorrow,
humanity takes a picture of these.

How do you say avatar?
Oh my God it’s God on earth
dressing up in human.
And a God takes form as human yes
in the cycles of the Earth,
but let’s go beyond the universe,
where cosmic Gods are not.
We can get higher.
Let’s go to who’s manifesting this show,
and here you are an avatar.
You are That you see.
It’s the greatest football notion.
It’s Excalibur.
It’s right here in my poem.
I’ve arrived on land.

It thinks in your thoughts,
but it’s not you thinking.
There’s a rift in my understanding.
This is a riddle with a master clue.
Just get information.
No one has the drawing gun.
That would be interesting,
knowing who we were.

It would revolutionize science.
It would be the biggest thing on earth.
It goes without saying it’s commentary
this rap.
I’m larger than science.
I can’t figure out who I am.
And science ensues.
It goes on and on and on and on
and gets trapped in the original question:
that’s not a real question.
It sees no representative show on earth.
It digs around in the dirt for nothing at all
and can’t get out of itself.

Let’s show this around:
nobody’s lookin’
at we might be part of a larger process
than everything in front I see.
You get the picture?
There’s a larger you looking at you through you,
and the world is a symbol for us to see that.
That’s why it all matters.
You’re getting bigger you see
and bigger and bigger.
All you have to do is evolve.
There's more along this show.
That’s an evolutionary wear an I,
the idea of the human take.

I have founded a world for you,
given you the idea supreme,
shown you an idea of Supermind,
an idea among us.
Where is your identity wrought,
in your home or office,
nation or religion,
in your people?
Take off those identities
as your crowning achievement.
You’re being so little you see.
Now let’s go to war.
Throw morality into the frying pan.
It is yet an uncooked idea.
You think it’s why we’re here
so outraged at other people’s behavior.

Okay take off your mask.
That’s you under there,
the one doin’ wrong.
This is knowledge by identity,
the healing of wrongdoing in this world.
Oneness garden,
that’s oneness who we are.
That’s the station of Superself,
and we get bigger all the time.

Do you see yourself?
Do you even know you’re there,
where you can’t see yourself?
Take this on the road,
the larger than you you are,
a thought and feeling overlay
to get you to look up.
It changes lives.
It’s the antidote to our sin.
It gives self-righteousness a big punch in the nose.
It sure is generous with everyone.
It heals our land.
It's higher than religion.
It’s not a God to worship or a song to sing.
It’s the hard work of bein’ human who you are.

Unveil the avatar.
Understand the science?
Put it on every thought and deed
you encounter in the world,
and show it to yourself
in everything you do,
and there you are,
evolving.
It’s evolutionary, ain’t it?

Everyone Acts Out as Young Children

photo by Donny

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

Tearin’ outside the universe.
This is GoPro.
It’s not in your imaginary land.
We found the universe.
It’s so much bigger than bubbles
and moviemaking exactitude.

Oh my God the horror,
you think this rules,
in your image vocabulary,
absolutely mixed and purposeless,
so rich it scorches yah.

They don’t dream of bigger universes,
the people that propose media to us today.
Movie making madness
flavors humanity as its riding helm
traveling like features to nowhere.

Acceptance of the inane is the big game:
wow, that’s fantastic.
Nuts and fools
can’t stomach this game.
You’re an asshole.
I am,
the person pulling meaning out of nothing.

I use clairvoyance
to understand things are constantly changing.
I am the person putting meaning in all this.
We’re gonna surprise out of here,
once we understand there’s bigger than man’s wrought,
and consciousness goes in dimensions.
Once we understand our galaxy flight plan,
we’re gonna meaning out of here,
to the left and to the right,
to the up and to the down.

Narrow sense,
I can’t event talk about
what it means to blow past this bubble.
It looks like scrambled eggs,
the next big round of applause,
our getting bigger than where our acts put us—
beyond the machine.

We want that in front,
the next big step in front.
I’m sorry to disappoint you.
It’s beautiful.
It has the glory of who we are,
that has put little stamps of itself in this universe.

Do you see sir,
do you see?
So many universes,
they come down from Supermind.
They are visionary spectacles.
If I remember right,
Supermind is not the last field of the day.
It’s a big pitch of summer wear
from ever larger realities.
No beginning and no end,
got it?

Your head’s stuck in the multiverse,
where there are not different versions of you.
There’s whole other bases for universes
that we can even describe
so much different than elements are they.
Okay I’m the chemist,
and I’ve profound you a little bit.
Why limit yourself to just one concept?
Live in the sky, will yah?

A New Years Party Resolution

Poems by Donny Lee Duke

Photo by Jake Weirick on Unsplash
Photo by Avi Waxman on Unsplash
Photo by Timon Studler on Unsplash
Photo by Erik Witsoe on Unsplash
Photo by Dan Asaki on Unsplash
Photo by Alex Lvrs on Unsplash
st Photo by KMA .img on Unsplash, 2nd Photo by Ravi Sharma on Unsplash
Photo by Jaric Swart on Unsplash
1st Photo by Cash Macanaya on Unsplash, 2nd Photo by Jaric Swart on Unsplash
1st Photo by Tani Olorunyomi on Unsplash, 2nd Photo by Susanna Marsiglia on Unsplash, 3rd Photo by Donny, of Lisa, Nikon FM 2, black and white film, self-developed

Beauty’s Reign


Beauty’s Reign

Verse 1

d               a         g
It’s been a long time,
a
long, long, long time,
g                              a                    d     g
everything that’s sung and in one line.
d                            a               g
Work up slowly your way to it.
d                                   g                   a
And the folk song’s driftin’ on a better day.
d                          a                  g
The folk song’s liftin’ on a inner ray:
d                g        a           g              d
the many splendors of beauty’s reign.
g                a        d              g
Here the heart wants to share
g                        a                       d
snow covered music for my kind,
g                                        a                                      d
on the wings of the time, on the wings of a dove, on the wings of love.
a                           g
So many changes for my kind,
a                    d
everything to do with the divine,
a                              g
everything that’s true,
d                      a                       g
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign,
d              a                      g                       d
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign.

Verse 2

d a  g
Let go,
a
let, let, let go.
g a      d       g
Land wide release.
d             a                   g
You are llamada up above. (Spanish, pronounced ‘yamada’)
d                                   g                   a
And the folk song’s driftin’ on a better day.
d                          a                  g
The folk song’s liftin’ on a inner ray:
d                g        a           g              d
the many splendors of beauty’s reign.
g                a        d              g
Here the heart wants to share
g                        a                       d
snow covered music for my kind,
g                                        a                                      d
on the wings of the time, on the wings of a dove, on the wings of love.
a                           g
So many changes for my kind,
a                    d
everything to do with the divine,
a                              g
everything that’s true,
d                      a                       g
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign,
d              a                      g                       d
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign.

Verse 3

d            a  g
A time of change,
a
change, change, change, change,
g                a                               d              g
when the world pipe knows only one thing.
d                    a                      g
You have to know it very well.
d                                   g                         a
And the folk song is tempted by an adverse fate.
d                            a                                     g
The folk song is driftin’ wrong on the Titan’s urge.
d                   g  a   g                  d
He saw my sun, moon, and stars.
g      a   d            g
Put all change back.
g                          a                             d
But in the play there’s a process aware of,
d                g        a                           d
Look out of the psychic being’s urge.
a                         g
And that weakness was no longer,
a                             d
and that weakness was no longer.
a                     g
It shattered not
d                      a                       g
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign,
d              a                      g                       d
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign.

Ending

D          A              G
This is from the sun (3xs):
g              a                      d                       g
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign,
d              a                      g                       d
beauty’s ray, beauty’s role, beauty’s reign.

Original Sin

My must suggested the subject, and I made the shot and developed it

Original Sin

In a sunny corner of remote earth
the bite of it all
challenged orthodoxy.
This was in Nature’s plan.
Green-gold it moved.
This conducted harmony
operating on discords –
not a packaged plan,
neither from the stars.
It brought in cities beyond the universe.

We bask in its revelry –
a riot of God
on lone isles of trust.
Wonderful it wore shoes.
Naked impulse did not light its lamp.
A renegade,
it brought all to bear on noontide.
Light held its room.

Yes, we sing in darkness’ lair.
We deliver anthems
without knowing on which we rest.
It came to us unclothed,
and we saw naught but sin.
What distance orthodoxy
from all that abounds in this place.

 

This poem came complete via the inner voice while I was sitting and waiting for a room darshan on Mother’s birthday at the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in 2015. It was originally posted in the old blog of Douglas and I, The Chipmunk Press. It bears mentioning that I went to the Samadhi the next day after writing the poem and inwardly asked where I should put the poem, and I heard my muse answer:

To the question in Sri Aurobindo's room:
are you there?"