We See the System Now

photos by the author
And Hear It
Voice Record
This is an audio recording of a telephone conversation between Nithish and I on April 20th, where he’s had to sneak to call me, where discovery is near, and we both are very upset and frustrated. Please pardon us, we are doing the best that we can.

Central to understanding the poem below is not only the above recording, but also a recorded telephone conversation in Tamil between the parents, Nithish, and my oldest (unofficially adopted) son, who’s 30. In the conversation Nithish is made to speak against his will. He’s frightened and not himself. We had gotten a local police station to do a meditation with the mother. She came, and my advocate, my grown son, two cops, and I had a very intense discussion with her, and after we left, she brought Nithish and had him tell the cops that if he saw me on the street he would not speak to me, and that he did not want to visit his former home here at the lake.

They did not speak to him away from his mother as they told us they would do, and we were not told of any other questions that they asked him, as it’s obvious he did not just sit down and tell them that. I’ve discovered that they began by asking him if he loved me, and he said yes, and if he were happy with me, and he said yes, and if I ‘bothered’ him, and he said I did not sexually abuse him, knowing what the cop meant. I cannot tell you how I know he was also asked these things, but I know he was.

Then, in the phone conversation I’m describing, which took place last night at midnight, he was made to say he was happy with his mother and did not ever want to see me again, and that her taking him out late at night to allow him to drive the bike and buy him ice cream the first few nights after he was taking from my house was what he asked her to do, even though she never did this with him before taking him from me, not one single time. Lydia, his auntie, his mother’s sister, had told me she did this immediately after taking him from me, and she asked her sister what she was doing, and the mother replied he felt bad, and she was making him feel better.

The other day, I found out it was because he was crying for me, and I told Lydia this the day before the phone conversation I’m describing. She obviously told Sandiya, and so Sandiya is trying to cover that base too. That his mother is even having him saying this just shows how sick she is being with her son. In all he says on the phone, which is less than a minute in the conversation, it’s obvious he’s being forced to say it and doesn’t want to. Even if you don’t know Tamil, when you hear the kid speak, you know he’s being made to lie. I give you this background so you can understand the poem below and the tragic position the boy is now in.

Douglas,
I’m flatten for a reason.
I have evidence
I need daddy.
Something’s
wrong with me
only he can fix.
Please daddy believe me.
You’re accused in the yard.
Come back to me now
in front of your parents
or else
this may not end well.

Where do we put Lydia?
In the phone conversation,
and don’t trust Lydia.
Bad talking to her.
Trust Nithish on the phone.
That’s his real voice,
when he’s speaking to me in a private conversation,
not the prompted speech.
Going to the station,
did Nithish make a complaint against me?
They didn’t explain any class action suit.
It doesn’t surprise me.
It’s not gonna court.
He loves me,
and that’s not what they wanna hear.

All this money,
who raped him?
Who raped him?
A voice recording
you mentioned in class
and the muse in a poem.
That’s prompted all this drama.
Tell me,
what did Nithish say?
They’re not stupid.
They can get in trouble.
They can get in trouble for mentioning things.
There’s scared of what he said,
Nithish.

When I’m on the phone with him,
it wasn’t to take him to a liquor store.
He’s giving me plans on how to get him out of there,
out from under the control of his parents,
who’ve done devious things to him.
I tell him my plans,
and we renew our bond,
so glad to hear each other’s voice.
What’s the Mr. Mystery here?
That the boy calls me at all.
His parents don’t want to believe that,
but of course they know it’s true.
What does it mean to them?
They are forcing him to say things against his will
in anything concerning me.
He is afraid to tell them his true feelings
because he’s terrified at what they might do to him.
Can we get an arraignment here?

I was called last night
and given a voice recording
of Sandiya and Sundar
forcing the boy to tell lies
that he knows are lies.
I’ve been raising him since he was a small boy.
Our relationship grew into that,
but they made him say
they let him live with me solely for the sake of school,
that I would facilitate that.

And other thing,
my advocate, Douglas, Mithun, Nithish,
Sandiya, Sundar, and I,
sat down here at the lake and had a talk
near on seven months ago.
We wanted him here
during the week,
with his parents on the weekends,
and we wanted to home school him.
I mentioned to his mother death threats and abuse
that had been going on,
that she and Sundar had been doing
to Nithish.
She immediately capitulated
and said the schedule would go back
to him with me during the week,
and with them on the weekends,
but not home school him.

On the phone the boy was made to say
he spent the weekdays with me
solely to help him prepare for his final exams.
These people are grasping for straws,
change their story every time you turn around.
Sandiya was saying,
before this,
she took Nithish from me because I took him out of school,
because I had turned him against school,
because I was a bad influence on him in regards to school,
and I kept brainwashing him that he had dyslexia.
What happened to that story?

Sandiya and Sundar you are a piece of cake.
You’re not intelligent enough to muster
a good defense for taking Nithish from me.
We go back to a child sex video
the mother had made of her son Mithrin, three.
It was all in fun she said,
play,
no sexual intentions behind it,
although it’s child porn
on any scale you look at,
explicit child porn.
What do you do with that?

In a conversation with the mother
and my advocate,
I didn’t want the scheduled changed,
and Nithish comes to me only one day a week.
I do not trust those parents.
I do not think they’re good parents,
but I was not keeping Nithish from them.
I wanted the schedule to remain the way it was.
I had him four days.
They had him three.
I had him on the weekdays.
They had him on the weekends.
In the conversation I mentioned the video,
did not say one word about it except Nithish had given it to me
and had told me about his father doing
the nature of the video with his little brothers.
I wanted to point out that’s bad parenting.
I wanted to say I didn’t want Nithish exposed to that,
but I did not get the chance to speak.
On mentioning the video,
and her realizing what I was mentioning,
she began screaming
“Get out of my house!
Get out of my family!”
And she would take Nithish from me,
which she did
at my house
on the farm
about 45 minutes later.
That was the reason she took ‘im.
She thinks I was blackmailing her.
We have her recorded in phone conversations
saying that over and over.
Now what do you do with that?
You call a spade a spade.

Listen to me
Sandiya and Sundar,
I’m going to protect that boy.
Your lies, your subterfuge,
will not get in the way.
You are not good to him.
You are not good for him.
He was publicly humiliated
in his chair,
and life,
the feeling of life,
you took from him.
He is on the verge of a mental breakdown.
You have split him in two.
His one person with me
and another person with you.
You’re too primitive to realize that.

Now here’s the cat in the hat.
I’ve been with that boy most of his life,
and he has loved me dearly.
That’s been public view.
Oh amma and appa I never wanna see him again,
what does it sound like?
Brainwashing.
Oh amma and appa of course I want to see him.
I just wanna live with you
and just see him sometimes,
but I have loved this man for so many years.
Of course I’d like to see him.
Do you see the Hitler here,
the Nazi brainwashing technique?
Never wanna see me again?
That’s not normal,
after such a close bond
for so many years.

Can I introduce you to parental alienation
in this classic brainwashing technique?
The parents are just being primitive,
cavemanish.
They don’t know they fill a type.
This is happening all over the globe
to children everywhere,
parental alienation,
Nazi in its underpinnings.
Now here you can see it plain as day.
What are you gonna do about it?
Put a like at my machine?
We need some real help.
but first we need you to see
this little boy’s in big trouble,
psychologically,
can’t you see?

I love you Nithish.
We need to reach peace,
and it’s been a long jump away.
The message is
You have so show your parents you love me
and want to see me.
There is no other way.
The divine will not help until you do.
You have to be bigger than your parents.
You have to come out of primitive humanity.
You are in the world to make a difference in the world,
not to enjoy nice food and pleasures,
like they’re the reason you live.
You’re in a tomb Nithish,
and you need to come back from the dead.
You need to confront yourself.
You need to be Nithish,
unified and singular,
the boy that you are,
not a boy with two personalities
you have been in this custody dispute.
That’s dangerous.

That’s psychological trauma.
I do not want to get you in trouble,
but you have to be yourself Nithish,
and I give the recording for that.
Don’t blind it.
It’s a zombie test.
Your witness.
Admit I mean something to you,
and I’m an important person in your life.
Stop lying about that
because you’re scared of your parents.
You are dangerously close
to big mental problems.
I’m the one who heals you Nithish,
but you know that don’t you?
And that’s why you’re reachin’ out.
Now we can all stand erect
when that trauma’s been put out.
Do you get me baby dog?
That’s the unit
no strings attached,
a true healing measure.
You’ve got your record.

Dreams of a lifetime
are not in your corner now Nithish.
They have been removed from your seeing
by your parents’ insistence on me
being taken completely out of your life.
I put the video for that reason,
for your future Nithish.
The advocacy is there.
No, no I’m sorry,
you asked me to put a man there
to help you get out of there.
He’s here my baby dog.
Let’s listen to him.
He’ll be there in a few minutes.

You can see the permission I get.
Sandiya, Lydia,
what rendezvous point?
I have punishment for them.
No they will not be beat with a stick.
They will hear what they have done to your life.
A doctor will tell them.
There were three of us together.
It’s me, you, and Douglas.
Help me.
Just a minute I’m pointing my post.
I am not some stupid rule book out to get you.
How’s he blues it?
You may never talk to me again.
You may renounce me.
You may hate me,
but love makes sacrifices,
and I’m sacrificing for you Nithish.

You, me, and Douglas were a team.
Can we go to America together?
You think about that
before you hate me forever more.
I’m writing your best interests not mine.
That’s what parents do.
They give their children their life,
even if it hurts them,
even if they may never see their child again because of it.
That’s parental love Nithish,
and it’s where I find you
in this poem.

You need help Nithish,
and I’m showin’ people you need that
in a love poem to you.
Psychological damage,
does anybody deny it?
I love you so very much Nithish,
even more than seeing you.
I am only crying right now.
What more can I say?
I have hurt myself so much posting this poem.
Would you please look my way?

Daddy’s afraid
of Nithish.
I grew up with this statement.
I see the father in him
wanting me to be safe
at all costs,
even where he loses me.
Oh daddy I understand.
Don’t be afraid.
My parents have not killed my love for you,
and they never will.
I love you daddy.
I wanna see you again.

It was a simple record
come open
when you know your child’s in danger.
I’ve stood up for him.
I’ve laid down my life.
Is that parental love?
No one will grant me that because I’m a foreigner and I love boys,
what that used to mean
before it was tainted.
I gather you in the right way.
I’m not a fiend, a monster, a smuck.
I’m not an abuser of boys.
That life has changed.

I love him
in the meaning of that word,
and there is no difference
than the love God has for you
and the love I have for this boy.
Oh my God,
the sacrifice of love.

I’m a helmet for him
to protect him from this abuse,
this psychological trauma
that everyone’s ignoring that’s happening.
I give you my all.
I show you everything.
I do not hold back.
Will you please help my boy?

The System Failure

Unless otherwise noted, all photos by the author
I’m alone with Luna,
her dog paws on my shoulder.
This girl has watched over me
the whole time.
I’ve scared her
so many times.
My crying at night
has made her feel the safety of hell.
She licks me in my face
if I am sobbing,
lays her whole body against me,
if the night is really bad,
and do you know how that feels?
That girl’s in love.
I can’t tell you the love of a dog.
We’re cheated by the form.
There’s an angel there,
looking over their beloved child-man,
their heart wrapped around the divine moon.
You don’t know dogs,
even if you have one.
They get in there with you,
closer in life than your children can,
and they dream with you,
and you have no idea how real on Earth this is.
Oh she has been in my dreams,
her and silly Bruno,
watching over me,
making sure they’re there,
whatever happens.
Can you count this?
Can I even show it to you?
Rottweilers in love,
a thing on the mountain,
holding her master close,
holding her master safe.
The Gods see her
and call her name.
This is true love,
and no one can match it,
not even my boy,
but it’s not returned to the measure she gives,
and that’s the gift of dogs:
they will love you even knowing
their dog doesn’t get the count of human.
You will see him soon Luna.
Oh she misses you so Nithish.
You were her little boy.
Their play would fill the night sky,
lickings and squealings of laughter,
playful growls and sudden swoons.
Oh when you were taken
by force from my house,
for days she waited
by the front door
for your return.
That dog carried your sadness
for longer than dogs do,
and I am sure,
if we could see them,
she’s been in your dreams too.
Oh why all this pain on Earth for us?
It’s unbelievable.
It’s real,
and it was given for nothing more
than for a little boy
preferring his grandfather over his parents,
all this hell unleashed
on the heart of this little child,
our dogs,
and upon me.
Will you please speak up and grant these parents
the reckoning they’ve called for?
Oh Luna, this is the pilot moon.
This is the pilot poem,
and I’m going to the moon
in God’s love.
I will answer you tomorrow,
when we have our day in court,
with the testimony I’ve prepared,
and what has been your art?
That boy belongs to us
by virtue of his birth.
We don’t care what he needs.
We don’t care what he wants.
We want him all for ourselves,
never mind the pain,
never mind the torment
that we have given our son
to make him comply to our will.
We have no heart in this matter.
We only have our selfish desire
to possess this boy,
and why do we say that?
So he can go to school
on our terms
and forget the call to God.
Now we will word this differently.
We’ve been coached by our betters.
But they have overlooked one thing,
haven’t they Sandiya, Sundar?
Your natural parental rights
are not rights to abuse your child.
Is that understanding?
Is that clear enough?
Take him from his grandfather
because you fear he loves me more?
All the pain you’ve given him,
because of that?
That’s punishment,
because you don’t measure up
to be good parents,
and you’ve punished him for that.
I’m on the case
a Nithish’s rights campaigner,
and even if you kill me,
or remove me from the land,
behind that veil I will work,
still continuing
to free my little boy.
No power on Earth can stop me,
and only the Hostile Powers try.
I’m a force of God’s will in his life
and his soul’s expression for this lifetime.
That’s why dear parents
he has not forgotten me,
you have not killed his love.
God and soul arranged it.
Do you hear that?
You will in court.
You didn’t count on a speaker
from divinity’s trees.
You thought spirituality was a walk
on hot coals in irons,
but here it is I reveal
the sweetness of the Spirit,
and the certainty of its peace,
now leading this boy to safety,
out of his parents’ grasp.
On wonderful,
spirituality I walk the Earth.
Are you aware of this Sandiya,
Sundar?
You don’t have a leg to stand on
God’s ground.
Do you hear God’s love?
What are you going to show
that you are good parents,
a video you let someone make
of your toddler masturbating?
That’s not good parenting,
and it’s even against the law.
Well, we’re here,
right at the release of that video
to the proper authorities.
Yes you can face it as a family
torn asunder,
but that will be for the court to decide,
when the judge is shown your film.
And what will he say,
Nithish belongs with you?
Have you gauged the strategy
I have painstakingly laid out?
I’m no stranger to danger.
In 1983 with my Special Force A Team,
I parachuted in Germany with an atom bomb.
In 1995 in Old Jerusalem, on the top of Mt. Sinai,
and inside the Great Pyramid in Egypt,
I taped to walls and rocks and sarcophagi
poems of love and human unity
and redemption,
the only way to heal human evil,
full holistic love.
Dangerous both actions were.
I guarantee you I tried
to change the world even then.
Now you’re a little woman
living in a little world,
and you’re a man who’s murdered other men
‘cause your gang told you to.
Okay,
God’s plan,
would you be the people that carry that out?
Out there in the audience,
what would you say?
You’ve been silent this whole time,
except for a glimmer or two
of hope for this boy.
You say you love children,
but you don’t.
Racist and antagonistic,
only children should obey their parents
and go to school exam and all.
Anything else is wrong for the child.
Okay India,
can we see this on the world stage please,
your manner with children?
It’s here you need to work the most,
not with rocket ships, airports and guns,
Hindu society,
excluding all passports but theirs.
Changing your name,
you can square one that out.
Okay India,
I call you out.
Bharat, India, the river of the Ganges,
your children deserve better treatment
than to be the property of their parents
to abuse them or use them,
and to have school shoved upon their lives,
like is it the measure of them.
Do you hear me India?
You need to protect your children.
Bharat, or whoever you are,
why doesn’t Modi sing this?
Oh your parents reflect
the mode of government:
total control
in the guise of I will help you there.
Can’t you see this?
You’re blind.
Hindu is only your way to God,
but you’ve made it your soul’s cage.
One everybody,
one is the nature of things.
It is oneness not Hinduism
really what Hindu means.
Take your national election and say that.
You wouldn’t vote BJP.
I’m writing poems now,
political,
hear them?
Take a scroll and paper now,
and just print it out.
photo by Nithish
I’m in trouble.
What balloon will show?
Did you take candy from your little brother?
No, my momma sat on her spoon.
I can’t get help now.
I’m being punished for you.
You said some things.
They worry.
I’ve put them on hold,
and I’m modestly arranging you now.
They aren’t happy with it.
They think I’m crazy.
I think they’d like to kill me if they could.
I hold all the monsters.
I talked to you today,
trying to listen,
trying to sound.
I don’t know the zeros.
I don’t know the plans.
It’s a weird bunch of consciousness
my mind don’t know how to read.
Are you listing to me?
I’m giving you a message.
I’d like to see your men arrive.
Double click that.
I’m scared of what you might bring.
You might take down the whole house,
but you might just come get me,
and I give you my hand.
Everybody’s so crazy around here.
They’re all waiting for you to arrive.
Can we see that sentence again please?
I know there’s something going on with you,
and you’ve scared my parents.
They’re talking of killing you.
What would I do to warn you?
Easy phone calls make hard bread.
I am so scared to call.
You root around my day,
calling for me to call you.
I hear it in the sky.
I see it in the trees.
And would the river say that?
I’m on calling you,
and I try.
This thing sticks in my mind,
but the risk would just kill me if they found out.
I’m sorry you’ll have to wait.
May I have a minute?
My little brother’s dead.
He got caught handlin’ spoons.
She rushed him to the hospital,
pouring hot water over him.
That was Varun.
I’m not the only one who gets beat around here.
No, it wasn’t his joystick.
He grabbed somethin’ and run.
I didn’t like the sound
of him crying.
Do you hear me when I speak?
I talk to you a lot.
I’m listenin’ for the muse.
I don’t get it like I used to.
I’m not the same boy that I was.
Will you like me anymore?
I’ve been crushed.
I’m sorry to say that I have,
and I’m not defendin’ myself.
That’s what I don’t believe.
Self-nature’s got a plan.
They will hear my voice
my parents,
whether you’re there or not.
Oh hurry daddy.
Sit down.
This is system failure,
what you do with your children
that doesn’t put them first place,
their minds,
their bodies,
their little wills.
They have a voice you know,
and you’re ignoring it.
You don’t even listen to children.
They are things to you
to keep and care for
and mold into your society.
You possess them.
They are yours.
In India it’s abuse.
You don’t know what this does to a kid,
to not let his identity speak out.
It hurts him.
It damages her.
How can I show this to you?
Their wills matter,
their lifeline,
their own personal destiny,
apart from their parents,
apart from everyone in the world but them.
They are individuals,
and that’s important.
We’re losing the world that way,
one damaged child at a time,
who grows up to think
the world is ruled by society,
and the people there
are its system keepers.
Who would dream to change the system,
unless it’s towards more group think,
more authority over our lives,
more laws and greater punishments?
We don’t go the other way.
Even spirituality’s a drag here.
It’s not liberalness I’m talking about.
It’s a better society for all.
Liberal ideas make plans.
They’re not supposed to make everybody gay.
I don’t think we know what liberal means.
It’s not on the calendar today.
Can I show you my life’s worth
come together with this boy?
I’m afraid my poetry would rock the Earth,
if you gave us permission to speak.
I’m not the only one here
who’s a poet.
My boy’s become one too,
the beginning stages,
the starting out.
Can we show you what we’ve done?
It’s all in pages now.
Start with Harm’s End and go to YouTube,
not my channel his,
and then you’ll end up on Twitter,
and you’ll see him since he was seven.
He’s 12 now.
Unbelievable, your eyes pop out,
the photography, the poetry,
the one on one love out.
You know I’m countin’ sheep.
Wake up people, rise.
It’s time we built a new society,
and we start with our children.
Anybody argue with that?
Go atom bomb the world.
Keep on our present course,
and we won’t have a world no more.
Come on people,
embrace change.
I’m here beside you,
and man I change too.
System failure
the Dukes of Hazard
(and I will adopt this boy,
you wait and see)
keep from happening
with our poetry.
Put it down
to the divine word.
India,
you hear that.
That’s our anthem today.
Land it on student rose
into the big house,
into high society,
into where we need to be,
thank God in love.
We are safety Earth.
He’s tellin’ me
he’s not gonna learn Tamil.
Free up your mind.
You have a system reach in there and grab you.
They own you,
your parents.
I am there to see that happen:
you become your own person,
out from under their control,
under my care,
because they have raped you
with their control,
not sexually,
in the very heart of process identity.
They have raped you there,
and the court will see this
and award me custody.
I will not take your culture from you sweetheart.
I will take you to America,
and there you can be the teenager
you dreamed to be.
Am I out of line?
I am right there with your soul
in the situation,
and I will free you from them,
and put you on the right path
to where you belong in life.
To India you will return,
because that’s your destiny,
but in America you will put on your poet wings
and learn to fly,
and when you fly back home to mother India,
the world will stand still a moment
as the poet takes his station.
I will rise to that occasion myself
here in my station now.
Now I’m flyin’.
Am I just a foreigner,
or have I put on Indian wings?
You hear the soul of India in my voice,
and for that she allowed me be here.
Wanna throw this away?
I dare you.
photo by Douglas
To change Indian,
what it means to change
the rocket ship of the Earth.
India needs her spirituality,
not her religion,
to give the world the means to change.
You are the example for us all.
It’s not America.
It’s India,
where the change begins,
right there with your children,
giving them the freedom to live
what their soul purpose put them here for,
what there for them God has arranged.
You don’t put parental rights in that slot.
Oh seer, begin with the child.
Have I reached your understanding?
This is world business.
We’re not here to make guns,
run the profit,
or put our mark on the moon,
although we do have a moon purpose.
We’re here to unfold our souls on planet Earth,
what it means to be human
in the vulnerability of our craft,
where sincerity is the order of the day,
and love goes round to all.
Would you argue with that?
What kind of world do you want?
A seership asks that question.
Can you put on this music.
Okay let’s ride.
It’s business bottom line now,
but start with the children
and that will change.
Are you seein’ this baby dog?
My wonderful little boy,
that’s why you’ve come.
You’re gonna stand up for children,
and you’ve walked through hell to get there.
It’s not because you’re bad sweetheart
they’ve taken down your life.
You need to know the price of suffering
in a little boy’s heart and mind,
so you can rise to your purpose.
If you did not know folly
you could not heal folly.
If you did not know the child’s fall
their parents make,
you couldn’t help one child up.
Congratulations my sweet little boy,
you’ve won.
Hey Nithish,
you’re free.
I wrote to see you in the morning.
You know we’ll be together soon.
This is not Auschwitz,
but you’re hangin’ in your home
on your parents’ rope.
Pleasures, punishments,
they mixed the two,
so they can say look,
he’s smiling,
everything’s okay,
but it’s not is it?
Scared to death you call me
and tell me of your woes.
I’m not making any of this up.
Okay this is the rescue I promised from the beginning.
It’s here.
I’ve come.
Let’s see your parents’ love for you.
Will they make this go to court,
stubbornly in their pride?
Or will they see wisdom and release you
into your fuller life?
Okay I’ve put the question.
I’ve wrote the poem.
Sandiya, Sundar,
do you want your family torn apart?
No court is necessary.
He just comes with me,
and you will see him I promise,
as often as he like.
Even from America
he can come and visit you.
So what do you choose,
a family torn asunder
in a court’s by law decree,
or your boy granted freedom
to be what he was meant to be?
You choose.
I’m waiting.
Now Nithish,
do your part,
and stand up to your parents,
with respect and consideration,
but not with giving in,
and tell them what you need,
not what they want to hear.
You have been put on Earth for this.
If you can’t do this,
what child can?
Loud and clearly
tell them they’ve hurt you
and please stop.
I go back to my grandfather now.
They’ll hear you,
if they love you,
and you’ll come back to me.
Do it fast.
There’s so much danger on our road.
Are you listenin’?
We’ve miracled consciousness you and I,
and yes you are.
Let the mountains sing.
You hear me on the inside.
I love the sweet sound of music
a racin’ to me on the inside
from this boy’s consciousness.
Can you do that?
We can.
You’re gonna see this out,
our special love,
[above line heard sung by the Bee Gees, to tune of “Too Much Heaven”]
and you’re gonna know
the world can change.
We’re gonna world this out.
Come on play with me.
In prevision see what this boy’s told me,
his voice from the past,
to help me guide him out of this
prisonhood with his parents.
You’re not gonna believe it,
but you’re gonna see it.
A bonafide miracle YouTube channel.
His last two videos,
check them out.
That’s S. Nithish,
and we’ll change the world now.
Got it sweetheart?
Good,
I’ll be there to pick you up soon.
Gee whiz,
what a message poem,
and it’s right on the edge of the Earth,
turnin’ towards the Sun.
That’s what we do together,
I love you.
Get it spiritual,
not religion.
Glory hallelujah that’s plan.
Can I show you the inner process?
I’m right around the corner,
Bharat India.
Seership said that.
That’s all I’m doin’,
focused on that kid.
See the results.
Grow the rays
to test an experiment:
can we connect with each other in consciousness,
when outer contact’s not there,
or very nearly none,
if our love is pure,
and the need is there,
and the bond is there?
He needs to be rescued.
I need to see it done.
I practiced so much with dogs first,
my beloved Lisa,
my dead Rottweiler,
and now with Luna
and our other dogs.
You would not believe the inner contact in consciousness
you can have with your pets.
You turn that up a notch
when it’s with your child,
but there’s danger here.
It can’t be for control
or manipulation,
and that soul has to let you in,
and you soul has to say okay,
and divine beings will be around to help.
Oh my God they see you here.
And Hostile Powers will be there to slay.
And behind it all God is
just really talkin’ to Himself.
Do you get that meaning?
The consciousness speaks.
I think I raised the barn.
In any event,
success in experiment.
We really accomplish it,
navigating human inside,
and the soul agrees.
There’s a perplexing.
There’s a shared field of consciousness
between these two.
You have to be alive with the program to see it.
Question both of them,
you will find it out.
It’s hiddenly there.
The videos are just one example.
They get it all day long.
It’s not bad it’s good,
and it’s humanity.
Tear it asunder?
What’s you’re lookin’ at
is the future of mankind.
You will throw that away,
if you can’t understand it’s true.
We share consciousness together,
the whole human race.
What a good society.
What a good story.
Deliver it to
delivery.
photo by Douglas
We made each other laugh.
That was the mystic
advocating for himself.
You know it’s there
from their crying pain.
They longed for each other.
They lunged for each other,
and they found each other
deep inside the other’s consciousness.
You’ve never seen this before.
It’s what we’re lookin’ at.
It’s how we square ourselves away.
You know you’re your brother’s keeper,
and Heaven and Earth will not stop you from being that.
You know.
It’s how we survive.
We find this out.
Can I please have my MTV?
Okay,
let these boys be together.
It’s weird.
It’s strange.
It’s huge,
but it’s how we get there:
we become each other’s consciousness.
Now you see it.
Now you don’t,
but you’ll learn it’s there
enough practice.
It’s amazing to look at,
and here is amazing for you.
It’s a field of love,
and you cannot deny love,
if it’s real love,
no matter what you do.
These parents tried.
They failed,
and they went to extremes to do so,
and they punished the boy
for their failure.
How’s that for mean?
Are you gonna do the same thing?
They need to be together now.
Don’t be his parents.
They got mean.
Just let ‘em go,
be together,
and see what they do.
The world has never seen it before,
a man and a boy,
and a couple too,
changing the whereabouts of being human
in the direction of love.
You got a problem with that?
I didn’t think so.
Give them their space.
They need it.
We balloon together.
His mother’s paradise law,
you need to understand
it’s not how the system works.
She almost killed him for it.
Don’t let her do it again.
Protect this boy from her emotional dependency,
her manipulation,
her control.
That’s child abuse India,
and you need to see it.
That’s what this boy went through.
Now let’s go,
the man and boy see each other again.
She almost tore him asunder with that.
She took away his life,
his love,
his dogs,
his everything,
just so she could eat him alive.
Are you good with that?
I didn’t think so.
Now he needs healed
from that abuse,
that squashing of his identity,
that day and night tirade
to make him love her
and forget this man.
Why on Earth
would you not let this man heal him?
I’ve got in in store,
and it’s a simple equation:
I meet his needs over mine.
I give him a safe place
to start his life over again.
I give him his beloved dogs.
Is anybody worried about what they went through?
I give him his space
to be himself.
I don’t put rules on him
to keep him to me
or curtail his growth.
I teach him myself
his homeschool,
and I will broaden his horizons
with this teacher and that place,
and these children,
to give him the fellowship he needs,
the other input than mine,
and the interesting lands ahead.
I’ve got it covered.
Will you let me
heal him?
That’s what we’re doin’ here.
That’s why I’ve called you all to this poem.
Okay it’s the strangest thing you’re lookin’ at.
It’s the inner voice,
how directed and true.
Why would you go back to business as usual?
Because you can’t take the new?
He’s real,
and he’s right here.
Would you please question that boy
about child abuse?
He’s waitin’.
He’s ready.
He’s told me to tell you to come.
Get him away from his mother
and protect him afterwards.
She will destroy him for it,
and you have more than one crime there.
Find them out,
crimes against a child.
Is that okay with you?
Now go,
get this boy.
Talk to him.
Get him to his man
and let him be healed.
Why would the system do it?
It was the system did this to him,
and we’re here today
for system change.
That’s on the record.
It’s on the menu today.

Let’s Grab Nithish

photo by the author
Why lift the boundaries? (vision with the line of a wave of birds, thousands of them, coming up from the ground and into the sky in one solid waterfall-like movement but going up. This happened as I was sitting on a park bench)
To go through life together under the Sun.
To be ourselves with other people,
but ourselves alone too.
To give that boy what he needs,
and he needs an involved I love you son
wrapped around me.
To change the world.
We’re not messin’ around.

Now have we been put on hold,
for the umpteenth time?
Will I awake?
Call me,
senior advocate.
Very closely nearly there.
You better let me.
I’ll delete everything,
and you got your seer no more.
What is it,
a love reaction?
You’ve betrayed the very essence of reality
in my fundamental makeup,
in my fundamental see,
if we don’t come together,
and I will know that the world is a fucked place we’re doomed.

And if we set ‘em sir,
and if they’re not here,
what is their placement?
You can sit us in your organizing society,
and we will show you where we rose.
We’ll be here
master plan.

I’m getting close I can’t stay yours.
I’m a learning disability.
Daddy do something about that girl. (vision with the line of a big man walking beside me with a black beetle in his mouth, and he was choking on it, and I was slapping his back to get it out)
You’re dyslexic that’s okay.
Your mother can’t punish that no more.
I will take you with me,
and you can be dyslexic in my school.
I love you so very much.
Next week,
I promise.

Start happening!
Start happening!
I looked at it, [this line and the two above lines heard spoken in Nithish’s voice]
and exactly
as you said
it happened.
I want to know what your vision was.
Momma laid her feet on me.
All’s I could feel
was our deep, undying love
taking me to the lake.
I will be there soon.

You will paint some rosy picture that I am to blame.
I’m a Facebook mob.
Oh I’m sorry, seven views.
On WordPress there’s two.
And Nithish,
I see him now.
His mother has replaced me,
and he let her do it.
The hugs, the kisses, the warm rubs,
the excited talk about this and that,
that woman who beat him has replaced me,
and he’s happy with it.
I can see the treatment.
He’s a baby
Sandiya told me on the phone.
She’s gettin’ her juice.
Before she would not even admit he was still a child.

Okay they go together.
What am I still doing here?
What the fuck, over?
You have replaced all my lands.
You have taken my very child
and given that place I have with him
to someone else,
and they beat him and they slap him,
and they lord it over his life.
What more do you want from me?
Why do I have to see that?

I have been betrayed in the sense of my stuff,
by a little boy that took all of my heart
and always wanted more.
Where is release from this?

He’s still won’t speak my name to his parents.
Get that,
won’t even say he wants to see me,
the love of his life for all these years.
What blackness is in the heart of children?
What cruelty lurks behind their touch,
wizziles with you in their face?

This is blind cruelty.
The boy just wants to get by.
To hell with me,
as long as he gets his good food
and bag of sweets
and special treatment.
He’s cast me aside,
and I made so much noise,
whenever he called,
it forced him to call me
and come out of his stupor
face me a moment,
come out of his animal bliss.

We’re dealing with a kid from the train yard.
Whatever divine element in him,
he has just gotten rid of.
What do you do with such a kid?
He will never speak up.
He’s satisfied.
He’s got his parents’ attention,
and is the focus of so much love,
even if it’s for his parents to have him and not for him.
This operation sucks.

Do we rock that poem on Main Street
and show it to the kid?
I’m not happy with this boy.
He’ll walk the room
listening for phone calls,
listening for Nithish.
Man-managed plan
develop on rainbows.
Let’s look at that replacement line.
Ruth, this is daddy.
Now I’ll call you mother.
There a step-mother sleeps.
And you never got close to her,
but you were dependent,
a little child,
and you had to look to someone to take care of you.
She was mean.
She was a monster,
but you called her mother,
and that was your choice.

You hated the relationship.
You cried and cried.
You really tried to please her,
took her assessment of you
as conscious fact,
believed her
when she came crashing down on you
for just leaving your boats in the yard:
you were a bad boy.

She saw you naked,
washed your back in the tub.
She combed your hair before school in the morning
and fussed over your clothes,
and you hated that woman.
You were 10 and 11, no?
She was just so mean to you.
“Get up you little bastard it’s time for school.”
“I know you like a book.
You’re no good,
and your father’s no good.”
That really sucked.

The constant tirade
coming out of her mouth
she flushed at you,
anytime you were in earshot,
that did you in.
You hid in the woods for hours,
until your father came home,
and he was no gentle lover.
A stern man with whippin’s,
that’s what he gave.

Now look at Nithish.
He’s making the best of a bad situation.
He’s being punished for loving you,
and no one seems to notice that.
In his heart it’s liberation towards you,
like you felt towards your mother,
only she didn’t want you back,
was not on the edge of consciousness night and day
trying to carry your pain.
That boy has got you,
and you’re all he’s got.

Can we mention this
to the world at large?
A boy has a man he’s loved all his life,
who’s taken care of him more than his parents,
and for that he has been so traumatized
that he’s died inside.
He’s still loves this man,
and so much time his parents have spent
to kill this in him.
What the fuck, over?
Are you listening to this?
Can they do that?
Just because he loves me
he’s gone through so much punishment,
gaslighting,
brainwashing,
and psychological torture:
here boy, love this man?
Let’s go to a fine restaurant.
I’ll take you to a spa.
Forget him, forget him, forget him.

But it doesn’t work,
and the parents are frustrated.
They don’t know their son.
Okay we just ride this,
let it be?
The boy’s better off
just doing his school work?
I beg your pardon?
You put a child through hell
and say it’s for good grades in school?
That’s his reason for living,
why he can’t have this man?
That’s an eight standard education talking,
his mother’s.
This man is a Classical Greek scholar,
and knows dyslexia when he sees it.

Oh beanpoles,
you will not get away with this.
I’m comin’ for that boy,
and I’m comin’ loud and clear,
and I’m bringin’ the posse,
and I’m bringin’ the cavalry,
and if Indians don’t know matters of the heart,
just say yeah beat the children,
let them lick their parents’ spoon,
Americans know better,
and they’re on the way out of this,
and that’s who I’ve employed.

Aerosmith,
it’s Aerosmith
to tell you that American thing,
lights out on total control
and ever remember your dreams.
Got some Pink Floyd here.
American music,
there’s music there for the land Earth,
and it sticks in your craw
like a love song.
You hear our anthem here.
Won’t you buy a little American pie?
We don’t doubt the man does.
Are you afraid the boy does?
And I’m not givin’ the lowdown on abuse.
That’s magic in love,
a parental man for his little son,
a big boy for his best friend,
a man and a boy who love each other.
Hear it?

We gather you in poems,
one after another.
Can you speak that far?
I don’t think you’re over the fence,
one foot process from stuck in the craw to living school.
You don’t know how.
That’s saving grace,
whether you know it or not.
Come on let’s ballon,
and let’s give this keeper his time shares.
He’s keepin’ a boy safe from harm.
You know his mother reads this,
reluctantly,
somehow,
despite herself.
We take her there.
For the poems now. (vision with the line of someone offering two Rupees notes, one a large denomination and the other a bit smaller, but it was big money)
I get paid in regard
and help this little boy,
not a baby in the room,
not even a chair.

He’s been taken out of the picture by his mother,
and no one can question him a thing
about where his mother is taking him,
if she’s not in the room.
A boy of 12 see that,
no will of his own,
year there’s a civilization on record,
mluv pomaleji prosím. (vision with the line of being on a bicycle and turning to my passenger behind me and saying that Czech phrase, putting my finger to my lips so to say be quiet).
May I help you with that?
Expressive of their will is expressive of their life.
Don’t deny them that,
and you’re off to the races.
Don’t put down later.
Pretty much
give him to the public.
Hey, what color of a shirt didn’t he didn’t wearing today?
The color his parents choose for him.
A raccoon
was not a ground speaker,
but he lifted up his head.
The voice is in the room.

Is that what you want society,
another person dependent upon society
to be his mother?
No will of his own,
that blooms.
He can’t find himself.
He might even kill you,
the manhood takes its stand.
Robbed of his will
right there where he becomes a man,
just entering the body changes of adolescence.
Can you say that?
Just tell me what to do okay,
that’s what we hear.
Sure society,
that’s what you want,
a world of beggars please.
Let’s study this room.
See Nithish.

Okay Nithish,
I forgive you son.
It’s not your fault.
You’re not to blame,
and I will see you soon.

What Insanity

photos by author
Bless on shoulder
what got in there.
Very message
your message to Nithish.
That’s how he finds out
it’s in his room now.
How will I know he even reads it?
YouTube channel,
check there.
I’m a message there.

One step for the game.
Did the little boy see me?
In his underpants,
no dice.
He would’ve cried if he could.
He was on description.
It was long and short.
This buried him in memories.
Wherever he had imagined he would live,
never was it away from me.

We’ve got to get along here,
so we can get back together.
I don’t know fantasies.
I hate being played with.
I don’t know if he saw anything.
I only know it hurts deep inside,
and insanity has returned,
and the walls are closing in.
There’s no way outta here!

The passage of time is like hours
that crawl through hell,
and I am so deep underwater there’s no way up.
The waves a grief tear at my throat,
over and over again.
Oh little boy I would like this fantasy real,
and the Anarchs that play with me fuck you!
Are you in my description my wonderful little baby dog?

It’s a thumbnail
on your disease:
get me all this food.
Do you remember that?
How can you forget
our time together?
Where have those memories gone?
How do we find them?
I’m sittin’ here livin’ with ‘em,
and they bring on such tears.
They’re crowding my life away,
and I can’t see you anymore.

This is too much for me sure pet.
It’s the infinity in the room.
It’s eating me alive,
and I’d almost rather die than be here,
but I know that’s not true.
Death is hell.
I can’t do this.
I need relief from my pain.
You are gone forever aren’t you?
This I cannot take.

Your form is haunting me.
I feel you walk up to me
over and over.
It’s like you’re almost there.
I feel you live and breathe,
and this is too insane to think about,
but I feel you baby dog,
like you’re right here!

This is insane take,
and I don’t know what I’m doing with you,
and you’re all normal and not surprised
that you’ve forgotten grief.
I hate this undershed
upnoodle.
The ways of insanity go deep.
The Anarchs of pain have arrived,
and I will be shot dead soon.
We just have left the rifle shot.

Claustrophobic,
it’s the air I breathe.
It’s on my downtown,
and I can’t get outta here.
It tries in space and blows it apart,
and I just get snot on my nose.
Oh Nithish I love you Nithish.

Wait a minute,
that’s you,
actually you,
comin’ to me again.
Insanity by the hours,
I’m not goin’ crazy.
I'll be comin' for yah,
honey dog,
on the edge of tomorrow,
within the next fews days.
How do I know this is true?
Read my blog.
Put us together on WordPress.
Compliment to go,
I’m so excited.

Sudden Sandiya

photos by the author
Right there in Kuruchikuppam,
people are gonna be made to see
they’re wrong.
That’s not the way to handle life.
There are better ways of doing it.
You don’t hit children,
and you don’t cover it with fine speech.
You beat the shit out of them
with a wooden board,
just for mention he loves me,
and then you talk about your excellence in him for education?

The sophistication of a mag doll
tears apart your life
and makes you sin.
I am there to remind you.
Oh sophisticated sister,
I will show you to the world
as the braggart you are
and the bane of your children’s lives.
You are not fine gold.
You are a base and raw metal
that crumbles society.
I will take you down
to your underpants,
as symbols see society,
and show the hatred and anger you really live life with.

I will call your name
as the one that so traumatized Nithish,
you almost destroyed his life.
I will pick those pieces up
and tarry him in healing waters,
and take that aching heart of his
and expose it to the sun.
I will heal that boy
from the trauma you gave to him.
You took his own identity
and threw it in the trashcan.
You could not stand his preference for me,
and you ate his life with it,
so jealous of me
you put his life out on the line.

This is the poem of her.
I will get you baby dog,
away, safe from her,
or I will lay down my life trying.
This is a sudden rescue we will do,
as God counts the hours,
and it will be legal and square
with all involved.
Kidnapping will not be justified here,
and you will have rights to your child
as he gives them.
When he feels safe with you again,
then he will visit you.

You know I want custody of that child,
the legal guardian of his life.
This is not take him from you
as you took him from me,
and it was in my house that he lived.
You forbade all outer contact,
even the slightest touch,
no visits, not even for an hour,
no phone calls,
not even a message to each other.
We couldn’t even see each other,
best friends most of his life,
and I am the parent that he prefers,
why you took ‘im,
and for that woman low,
you will know the price of pain,
but I won’t dish it out.
It’ll be in your death’s star.
You are the willow in the wood
that weeps for long and sure,
standing by eternity.

The cruelty of that moment you will feel
as if it were done to you,
and tearing your heart out of your breast,
crying away insanity,
in some death lesson after death,
you will come to know this.
The time that you took
to change your mind,
was measured in pathos of pain,
where one single hour
is insanity’s wait,
crawling through time
like death has your hand.
Do you even know what you did?

Is this your son’s pain or mine?
We put on a happy face
and forget about it
to all but inner eyes.
I am the child of destiny,
and if I show you my pain,
you will bite me with it—
the nature of a child weeps.
Are you game for this?
See it,
feel it,
know what you did.
I will show the world,
and you will see it
in the eternities of your mind.
Here, here, I reveal.

But not now
you change your mind.
You are too proud for that.
You are too cruel for that,
and now you call me names and a good man,
who helped you like a bitch,
a helping hand that always mattered,
that you drew from left and right,
my time,
my money,
and my care and concern.
Don’t you think the Gods look down
on such hateful ingratitude,
and see you as nothing
but that woman over there
who dangers children’s lives,
her own the point of pain.

I will see you there,
in humanity’s heart glow,
when we’ve made our long journey
and brought it to a close.
Disguised as sin and defeat,
disguised as love,
we walked the ways of the Earth.
Now here we are in Heaven’s reach,
but the heaven after the goal,
and we will forgive each other
the disguises we wore
that were necessary on battlefield Earth.
I will see you there Sandiya,
one day.
That’s the nature of Earth.
(Vision of Nithish sitting down on a bed in a room like his family’s room in Kuruchikuppam. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, head down and holding his hands together in front of him, elbows on his knees)
As you get details of
his life in here,
alone in a room.
I’m a little child.
I don’t know the number of school.
Lumber did that,
killing
every sweet thing I had.
I was into long silences,
and I could hear the room breathing.
I thought I would lose my mind.
Talk Nithish.
What do I say to them?
I will beat you you stupid kid.
This was bouncing off walls,
and I could not see the room
that I lost my life in.

I had so much pain in my heart.
My mother kept me from crying.
She was an alligator for my tears.
She was just some other room.
I defied her
for as long as I could.
Then she hit me,
everywhere on my body but my face,
a flat board
rainin’ down blows.
I gave in.
I’m okay with it.
I’m fine with it.
That is not the way it happened.
I will do what you say
I said in my mind.
Then I forgot about you
for a little while.
You were there somehow.
You wouldn’t let me go.
I cried and I cried.
No the tears had all gone.
I was a happy kid
they said.

I continued to support them,
and they rewarded me for it
with so much favorite food.
Then the hill came.
I climbed it to death,
and that’s when I touched your face
in an amazing dream.
You were holding me in a chair
at my old school.
I was telling you about my mother,
how she is.
You told me about your tears.
You had a hold of me
like you’d never let me go.
The comfort at that moment
stayed in my room,
and I carried you there.
I continued to act
like a little brat,
but my road had found you,
and I aloned to that.
This was wonderful news
to my aching heart.

I was wonderful there
in my house by the lake,
and I want to see my puppy again
and get my life back,
but my mother has said
she will not change her decision.
Move me toward the door.
She can’t bury love.
She can just torture me for it
and make me feel bad
I don’t love her like you daddy.
I will see you soon.

He’s saying
I will be there soon,
in your house
your little boy again,
grown bigger by his tears.
Now can we get him outta there,
Sandiya?
I’m holding you responsible for this.
You’ve cut that boy’s mind,
made him suffer so much pain
because you are jealous of him with me,
not because of school,
or the love of Sri Aurobindo,
what you tell people
to sound nice.
I have you in my sights,
and I will not leave you alone.
I will continue to rush you
with the pain you’ve caused us.

You’re the pain
of the old society,
where kids were their parents wishes,
no freedom for them,
and they wore school around their neck
like it was what they were worth,
and their parents could beat them,
touch them,
yell at them and abuse them,
and no one ever heard,
and they grew up and brought a mean world
into view.

We have a planet here,
raising stakes.
I’m gonna get that sweetheart,
and with our poems and with our might,
we’re gonna help bring in the new society
and change life on Earth.
This is not you Sandiya.
It’s not me.
It’s not Nithish.
We are world carriers in form,
the boy and I where change comes in,
you the adamant old rule.
I will see you in hell for this,
and that might be sooner than you think.

A lost guitar,
you’ve think you’ve kept him from me?

You’ve only showed him more.
I will find you,
and I will tell you:
give me that boy,
not for my rule,
not for my pleasure,
for his aching need.
You know what I’m talking about Sandiya.
You see it everyday.

What kind of mother are you?
And you ask who am I?
I am the sustainer of this boy’s life.
I am his protector and I am his love,
and you will step aside
and give him room to grow
as I parent him
towards a clear and certain goal:
he is himself on wide green Earth,
and he’s doing what he loves,
not what he hates,
and he’s doin’ pretty good.
He’s got all of this going for him
that you don’t see,
and you speak like you know this boy,
but you don’t even know me.
I’m comin’ Sandiya,
with the proper people next time,
and I’ve failed and I’ve failed,
but you know I’ll succeed.
Here I come.

On the loud speakers
this is a terrible story,
and it’s showing Indian.
They beat children.
That’s her form:
what a powerful might
that can’t hold itself together
and soon falls down.
Sometimes art general.
This is a heartache
spotlight.
There really is an abused child there,
scared and alone.
Lay down,
come on lady,
come on.

I will see you there Sandiya
in the not too distant future.
Wet means?
Where our Earth meets the Sun.
It’s the supramental,
where that boy is found,
and his emotional statement
will bring in the picture the child,
and that child needs help.
This is infinity’s room,
and we’ll have an upgrade soon,
a golden opportunity.
(Vision as the above line was spoken of Nithish at some wall in a city, and on the wall was a box of squares like a tic-tac-tow box but with many more squares, and Nithish wrote an X and an O in the top let hand corner of the box, the first two figures written on the box, and the sense was this was just the beginning)
Let them be known together.

The Roots of Pain

No more Nithish, an empty room and bed
I am in my own city now.
I have to get Nithish out of my consciousness or else
insanity looms.
I cannot carry him anymore.
This is painful.
I'm all out of sorts.

We have reconciled.
He stood by while a cop tried to arrest me
and said nothing.
His mother had put the cop there
because I had spoke to Nithish
at his school,
there to speak with his principal
about the real reason his mother wouldn't let me see him,
and I was concerned with her abuse.

As the cop tried to put me on his bike
to take me away,
Nithish was walking away
and did not even look back.
I had committed no crime,
and so they could not take me in.
Sandya stood by gloating,
and then walked away disappointed
when I wasn't nabbed.

The consciousness can't take that.
It doesn't compute.
I am finished holding him.
This is terrible news.
I had gone there to defend him,
and I was worried sick
over his situation.
He all but pulled the trigger.

And I am left holding the gun.
Nithish showed me a video
on his mother's phone,
which had gone to him.
It was of his little brother masturbating,
legs spread, penis erect,
hand going at it.
Sandya can be heard in the background laughing,
but she didn't take the video.
It's child pornography,
but she said they did it in fun.

I've heard about for the last three years
Nithish's father masturbating his little brothers,
not diddling with it pumping it,
for several minutes or more.
He had tried to do Nithish,
but Nithish said no.
I did nothing with this information,
except tell Nithish to say no.
When Mithrin,
the boy in the video,
who's three and some,
got big enough,
his father masturbated him a lot,
and Dhina,
Nithish's auntie's husband,
taught the boy how to spit on it and rub.
Nithish told me these things.
I heard all this,
and just filed it away.

Dhina made the video,
and now I'm left holdin' the gun.
Do I shoot them with it?
I don't want to hurt Nithish.
So what do I do?
I just leave the boy alone.
I don't stand here and study him.
I don't try to get him back to me.
It's over.
It's done.

Okay you've heard the news,
why Nithish was taken from me.
I mentioned that video to his mother
and his father masturbating his brothers,
to try and protect him from them.
You see the results.
Even the boy hates me,
but I don't truly know that.
Okay shoot me, public.
I am the bad man here,
turning that little boy against his family,
and wanting him to go with me.

I thought I had a better home,
and I wasn't his abuser,
but you know kids are fickle.
They hang on that family tree.
I'm a nigger to him,
a வெள்ளைக்காரன்,
and he just wants to be left alone.
He's happy with the presents his parents buy him
and the cater to his whim.
And pain?
Fuck pain.
He wants his smile to be real.

So you have a masturbating video
as the cause of all this charm
that he's getting from his parents.
They don't want him to tell on them,
and they want his love for me gone.
Well that did it,
no word from him in days:
daddy are you okay?
what happened?
I've been so worried about you.

He's just decided better go with it,
his refusal of me.
It's easier that way.
Just ignore me
and enjoy himself.
I will never hear from him again.
I can see that now.
I've done my job,
every possible thing I could do,
to get him out of his parents' clutches
and back towards the poet of the coming dawn,
a destiny he had refused.

Now what do I do with this?
I know the public you don't care.
You would also have me arrested
if you could.
This may be my last poem.
I'm throwing in the towel.
We tried.
We finished,
and I failed.

Now glory in your self-righteousness,
and tell me again you love kids.
I don't believe that.
Okay now I'm leavin' my little boy.
You will not help,
but I think I know what happened.
He was totally afraid of his mother,
that boy of twelve.
There at the school
she told him to renounce me
and raised her hand to slap him.
I grabbed that hand and pulled it down,
and he did not give her what she wanted.
She even put her hand over his face,
so he couldn't see me.
That's total control,
and he had to go home with her afterwards.

What does a child do when the shit hits the fan?
They stand there and cry,
Ben 10 not included,
or the Avatar and his gang.
Nithish showed kid shock.
He was just bewildered.
He managed a weak head-bowed yes
when I asked him if he loved me,
and would he back me up.
That was before the cop came.
We were invited into the office
to settle this dispute,
by the principal before that cop arrived,
but that Sandya refused.
She wanted me arrested
for defying her to see my boy.

We can't blame this on the kid.
He's innocent in this,
and I don't know how he feels now,
but I can't continue hurting him and me.
I can't love him like this.
That little boy's been broken,
stabbed in his identity,
made to feel all alone in the world,
put down for trying to hurt his parents,
and at the same time they lift him up,
afraid he'd tell.

What do we do with children,
when they're in a bad situation,
and our helping them hurts them more?
We leave.
We tear our heart out of our breast,
put blinders on the soul,
and just walk away.
That's what I'm doing today.
You with me?

Here is the address where the mother and the boys live and Sandya’s telephone number:
+91 9384460042
64 Nettu St.
Kurusukuppam,

Puducherry, 605012

The street is only a tiny alleyway accessible from Advocate Chinnathambi St. Fourth Cross. On Sardar Vllabhai Patel Salai, a main road, turn left on Francois Martiin Street. Turn left again on Advocate Chinnathambi Street, about 500 meters from the Patel Salai. Go to Le Nid Apartments on Advocate ChinnaThambi Street, which is on the left where the street turns sharply right. Stand facing the apartment gates and turn right 90 degrees and you will see a little alleyway in front of you. Go down it and it immediately turns left and her house is the first door on the left. It is a very narrow alley. Time is of the essence. They are on their way to his father’s apartment in Chennai to avoid me. His address: Ashok Pillar 29 sector, 6th block Chennai, 2nd apartment building and the left, 1st floor, wooden door.

The Anarchs of Pain

photo by the author
They spill your blood.
They dust you off to kill you more.
They know just when to sooth you
and just when to bite.
They eat you alive,
and then laugh about it
like they care for you,
or you’re just not doin’ right.
They lead you by the hand
to amazing vistas of rose petals,
a dire love,
and then they cut your heart out
in the very place they called you love.

This is diabolical.
This is oh so sweet.
You have some semblance there
of hey hello it’s me;
I am your love, remember?
And those memories kill you
because they’re insanely not there
to make any more with you.
You can’t touch that.
You can only cry,
helpless heaving cries
that startle up your mind
to insanity’s fallout.
This touches you.
This laughs at you.
This enters your neck.

You are not there with them,
that little boy you love,
and he has lost his comfort zone,
I mean really his whole life,
to live in a shed
with grey bones to sleep on
and parents that finally get the chance
to rub his nose in it:
all these years for preferring me.
Do you get the picture?

They torture me with that,
the anarchs of pain,
and his pain rends my breast
and makes me want to kill myself
because I want to shoot myself for his pain.
What do I do?

I just sit here and tell you.
No one will listen.
We’re a racial mix,
and I’m in a foreign land,
and all’s people see is a red flag.
They don’t know what they’re lookin’ at,
and so they hurt us more,
thinking we’ve sinned
together as man and wife.
The boy’s 12.
You stupid people.
That’s not the relationship.

We have love
from the fountain of soul.
I’m afraid this is as close as you can get,
two people,
and we’re suffering for that now.
It’s there we love.
It’s there we hope.
It’s there we stand and face each other.
You don’t mind.
You only see yourself.

He’s forgotten about me.
They try to tell me that.
Oh he’s happy move on.
But then I meet him in dream and vision,
or talk to him on the phone,
a forbidden enterprise
he has to sneak to do,
and I’ve found him again
the lover of my life,
where he was when they didn’t see him.

Kids aren’t all on pain.
They’re not geared for that.
Their mask just allows the public to see
hey I’m alright;
look I play and laugh and sing,
but I’m not there you know;
I’m inside with the pain,
and you know I can’t hide it
always,
nor even very much.

So we’ve unlocked these doors,
the Furies that punish us
for so deep a love.
What type of love is this?
It's deep-seated parental feelings
more than anything else.
Can you get your head around that?
It’s boy love without the sex.
It’s a man’s embrace.
It helped hold the world together
in ancient times.
I’m his tutor.
I’m his love.
I’m his friend,
but most of all I hold his hand.
I’m the one who guides him through life,
and he is a spiritual arrangement.
I do not love him if I abuse him,
and that love starts my day,
where I hold this little boy.
There is no abuse here.
I do not cut his teeth on silver diamonds.

Can a kid handle this?
This has been humanity’s beef all along:
you can’t take children and put ‘em in a box
and make them obey there,
protecting them from the world
by protecting them from themselves.
This is an ancient relationship I tell you,
and it’s not bad, evil, or mean.
It’s as wholesome as the night sky,
as helpful as a forest moon.
You can read us
in volumes of poetry,
and the boy has videos,
and he’ll tell you about himself.

We have something new for the Earth,
and integral healing plan
that meets nature right where the Earth is,
so the soul can express itself.
We’re expressing soul.
Do you hear that?

We don’t know how to arrive.
We weren’t separated by parental concern.
I’ve been his erastes for six years,
a full on parental relationship.
He mostly stayed with me
for these half dozen years,
but I was at his birth.
He came into my life at one and a half,
as this little tyke I helped take care of,
and we have been doing this since he was three:
I was a parent in the room.

Now you can take this
and cut it up.
accuse us of pederasty,
but what you got here is two people in love,
whatever the form,
and it’s right relationship.
I test you to go and see.
We’ve left public record,
starting since when he was three.

Okay crowd,
we let the parents arrange this,
with their hate and their spite and their mean,
because they are jealous of our relationship?
And are at this very moment
forcing themselves on the boy,
and he doesn’t want that.
He wants to be home with me.

I’ve laid it all out on the table,
told you the story.
What do you want,
social change,
where kids meet bigger people,
or do you want the kids to remain the same
and do not change the nature of man,
so we can become better people and save the world?
I’m lookin’ you in the eye.
Engage our social media,
the boy’s and I.
We will change the world.

The boy’s YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/@s.nithish1830

The Big Stick

His YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/@s.nithish1830
A heartbroken line.
You just have to write this down.
There is no Earth and Heaven but you.
We glide here on our own devices.
We can’t see the world around us.
It’s blind to us too.
We can’t even see our yard.
There’s a process there.
It’s image on sight.
We have see things to believe in them.
Our fingers have to touch their face.
No other process allowed.
That’s the ring around the rosie for us.
It’s how we live.

It gets us in a lot of trouble.
We can’t always see things.
When people are away from us they’re gone.
We imagine their existence,
and it’s not real to us.
They’re not there.
Now tell me what to do?
Go outside and see things,
and try to transfer sight
to some bigger picture happening before your eyes.
Don’t just see your little world.
It’s gotten big enough
to swallow you whole.
We gotta get outta here.

It eats us alive.
It’s the only thing we know.
Can you see this?
Do you know what I’m talkin’ about?
We are blind before our face.
Our world is the world,
and there is no other
that has the reality of ours.
We can put this in a movie
or a sports field,
or maybe even a good book.
We feel something other than ourselves,
but we’re involved in it.
We’re still the center of the room.
Look at YouTube Shots.
They piece you to pieces,
this show, and that show, and this show,
and you have your favorites.
Where are they taking you?
They don’t know how to time.
They don’t stop.
You are lost there
in the middle of you.

I’m tryin’ to get to some larger whole
none of us see.
We’re divided up in pieces,
your world and my world
and Larry’s world.
Will we put our glasses on and see this?
It really sucks
you know when you lose someone.
Say you had a kid
and you’ve been raisin’ them since they were three.
At 12 you lost them,
and they were just taken from you
for no other reason than just to take,
‘cause you made someone mad.
Devastating.

It was a bubble relationship.
We were the captain of our ship
laughin’ at the world go by
we teammates, best friends,
together all the time.
We were joined,
and the world went by,
and we were so special in it,
so much comfort in each other,
so much love.
And then you lose that boy.
No contact is allowed,
and you watch that boy turn
like he never knew you,
and now he wants you gone.
No, no, I didn’t abuse him.
His parents did.
He was broken whipped and spanked
until he gave his parents what they wanted,
the keys to himself.
They can do that.
They’re Indian parents.
He was broken,
lost his will,
lost himself.
They spanked him,
and he cried and cried,
and I had promised to save him
and couldn’t come.
That anger rides.

What are we left with?
A quaking world.
Death would seem a happy state,
and I almost long to be there.
I want my boy.
I can’t take it.
There is no escape from this pain.
What do you do?
You feel pain.
You don’t know what to do.
There’s no way out.
Months ahead,
the death of a child.
There is no remedy for this.
I’m lost in him,
and oh the jesters of pain,
that kid could care less if he sees me again,
in just two short weeks.

Where do we go?
To death?
We have to do something.
We have to live.
We have to get up and live.
You’ve been fucked by the universe,
abandoned by your Gods.
All soul’s failed,
and you’ve got to find another life,
and you really want the one you had.
You’re stupid you tell yourself,
a fool.
Children are treacherous,
and they only like pleasure and joyrides,
and their heart can be bought with candy and cake,
and they forget you,
even when you were their whole world.

I’m dying in this pain,
and I’m just showing it to you
so you know of the reality of which I speak,
in some little lost world
forgotten from the whole.
To cut him out of my heart is blind.
That boy needs protected,
and he’s in a bad situation.
It’s an abusive situation.
I cannot abandon him.
I must go on
tryin’ to free him,
but the loss is too great to bear.
You see the predicament.

It’s going somewhere.
I am being perfected for him
in parental ways,
as he will need to be healed.
If he returns,
he will be healed
with certain hands.
I’m ready for him.
There is just this need to swallow,
this ever aching need
that he fulfill my life,
be its ornament,
and meet my emotional needs.
How can I get rid of this?
Don’t look at me funny.
You do it too
with children.
We are property lovers with them.

I don’t know how to do this,
and that is my lesson now.
It hurts.
Where do I find you?
In the lesson plan.
I’m reaching out to you
to be a lover with you,
to put down that kid a minute,
and let’s say hey look at this:
we are fragmented world.
Will you do the time with me?
It might be a pickup truck
that takes us all on a ride
to higher skies.
That’s where we think about larger things than ourselves
and the contents and people of our little world.
I’m pushin’ yah there
in my own flagpole
as I do this too.
Will you sing with me?

Will we be together again?
We come from afar.
This is not our home.
We’re on dangerous ground,
where the Void meets Earth.
There are doings here
that have us all undone.
We live out our lives
little people,
totally forgetting
who we are together,
the very next field
above this one,
the supramental field.

I’m ridin’ yah there,
journeying myself.
I don’t want to go.
All my thoughts on little boy
and what’s going on with him right now.
Is he happy is he sad?

Is he missing me?
Would he like to see me again?
Are they hurting him?
This goes deep.

Alright I’ve told you some
about what we don’t talk about:
look there’s a whole;
look there’s together again;
look we are bigger than what we are.
Have I reached out to you?
I can’t see it.
I don’t even know you’re there.
I think that’s a reality kingpin.
I’m alone in here
in front of all of you,
because of my perception.
Can you figure it out?

That is put to the finish.
Hey you got some things growing up there.
Tunnel things
this reality.
It’s trustworthy.
There’s no other way to see it.
We’re not real,
is that how far this goes?
Do you see what I’m gettin’ at?
Where is reality’s footing?
Where do we place ourselves?
In the center of attention?
I think we look higher up.
We look where it happens,
where reality gets arranged,
and we find ourselves there
watching the arrangement.
Isn’t that funny?
Here I am.

Suffer the supramental solution.
Sri Aurobindo
wrote his letters
just sittin’ there.
He didn’t see the disciples,
yet he knew they were there.
He didn’t have to see them.
He had concrete inner contact with them,
and he knew what was goin’ on.
He could see their own selves,
and he knew what they needed.

This was just vision to him.
No, this was the substance of his room.
He grabbed the whole with his own hand.
It was his messenger.
He substance see’d,
knew in relation to the whole,
and he could see without errors.
I cannot do that.
I have strong inner vision.
It doesn’t come
everything’s true
without errors.
It gets a lot of lie,
exaggeration,
and endless possibilities worked out.
I can’t see straight.

You don’t know how much this sucks.
I’m glued to inner vision
now to protect my kid
and bring him back home,
and it’s driving me crazy,
all these scenarios
played out one by one.
He’s been hit with a dog.
He’s been pissed on and raked
over an open fire.
This just kills me,
and I don’t know what to do.
The bad part is over,
when they broke him
to turn him from me.
Now they’re tryin’ to act normal,
and they want him to be happy.

Gaslighting is the order of the day.
What’s a kid to do?
Acquiesce
and be what their parents want them to be,
do what their parents want them to do,
and say what their parents want them to say,
and that’s what he’s doin’.
and I can have no contact,
and not a single person there will tell him of me.
It’s inhuman.
It’s a total blackout
they’ve arranged.
The abusers become his saviors,
and his beloved grandpa a foreign devil
tryin’ to take him from his family.

I was his main parent
from the time he was six.
Six years with me more than his parents,
and they’re gaslighting him
to make me some babysitter
they mistakenly arranged.
Okay public, what to do?
I’ve shown you his card,
a song he wrote himself
when his parents were pullin
and kicking him about school.
This is where he is at.
This is the boy on his own.
Where do we find him?
I hope that’s not the graveyard.
Can you come
and help me find him please?
I really need you,
and this is a live child
waiting for your help.
Can you help?
Oh Puducherry,
you couldn’t Aarthi.

Now there’s hope.
The boy’s alive.
How do I know he’s unsafe?
His father’s a killer for a Lawspet gang
with BJP connections,
but he hasn’t killed in awhile.
Says he’s done with it,
but see the gold on him you’ll know
he’s still involved,
a gold ring on every finger like a pimp.
He could kill that kid
in a jealous fit of rage,
and the mother’s of low character,
and she may not prevent him.
That's where this is headed.
Don't be sorry.
I’m calling on you now,
Puducherry,
rise up and protect that boy
before anything else is done.
Will you help me?
Can you take this boy to safety?
That’s wonderful.
Thank you.

This is the boy’s address in Puducherry, India:

64 Nettu St.
Kurusukuppam,

Puducherry, 605012

The street is only a small alleyway accessible from Advocate Chinnathambi St. Fourth Cross. Go to Le Nid Apartments on Advocate Chinnathambi Street, stand facing the gates and turn right 90 degrees and you will see a little alleyway in front of you. Go down it and it immediately turns left and his house is the first door on the left. There is also an Ave Maria Kebi on the left side of the apartment gates.

Nithish’s school and he’s in 7th standard: New Modern Vidhya Mandir Higher Secondary School, 73/A, Pillayar Koil St, Angalamman Nagar, Muthialpet, Puducherry, 605003

His father lives in Chennai and has a business there and comes to Puducherry on the weekends. Here is his business address:

P. Sundaram
S.S. Air Controls
No. 432 Pachaivalliyamman Illam
29th St. 6th Sector
K.K. Nagar, Chennai 600078

This is the address they spend the weekend at, usually from Saturday evening to Monday morning. It is his father’s parents’ house:

17 Kaman Koil Street,
Ashok Nagar,
Lawspet, Puducherry.

The Whole Falls Down

9-year-old Aarthi
I might’ve slipped on the internet
This is no problem for me.
It’s how I entered the internet.
What do we got comin’?
Poetry in your yard.
Can I cross your brow with it?
This is a think page.
Go back to puppies and bullshit,
if you want your hands in your underwear.
The internet is for porn,
in a nuclear holocaust.

What do I got for yah today?
I don’t wanna write this down.
A little girl was killed in Pondicherry,
raped and murdered.
I didn’t hear the news.
Nithish told me on the way to school.
Whatever happened,
this girl suffered.
Oh my God the reality these days.
You should’ve seen caveman days,
and all along humanity
this has happened to children.
It’s not special today.
It’s just horrible.

I’m sorry little girl.
She was nine-years-old.
Nithish told me about Hindi kidnappers
in Tamil Nadu.
There were 300 of ‘em,
it said on the news.
Again, it’s Nithish’s report.
I don’t speak Tamil,
especially on the 6 o’clock news.

Goddamn this girl got killed,
and do you know what?
She was in her neighbor’s house for two days before it happened.
She tried to escaped and they killed ‘er.
What was normal procedure?
You search the goddamn neighborhood,
especially across the street.
A strange old man livin’ alone?
Hey man, can we check your house?
That didn’t happen.
Everybody was lookin’ for Hindi kidnappers,
far away from the house,
taking her organs and selling them.
It was a mass hysteria,
and it cost the city a lot.
They would’ve found that girl,
if they followed procedure.

I don’t think no one’s listenin’ to me.
There was a day long strike
all over Pondicherry
before they found the girl.
Where is she?
Not far from the Hand,
not far from God’s grace and lovingkindness.
She can’t come back to us.
No way,
she’s dead.

Man is a trapped being;
I can make that armstrong strong;
what do you want to die next?
said the demon to the little girl.
Cause she’s a baby,
can we carry this baby?
Can we get around this baby?
It wasn’t her fault.
Hell opened up on that child
and ate her.

We are left stunned.
The pain, the fear,
the little child suffered
is unimaginable.
I can understand the anger
all over town,
but it’s misplaced.
She’s here to tell us something
we can’t see:
we can never blame ourselves
for the wrong done by another;
we aren't able to.

It’s exemplified in her,
the abuse of children in Pondicherry.
Slapped, kicked around,
put in school,
you don’t know the half of it.
They’re made to bleed there,
produce paltry items,
the unnecessary,
the boring, the out of wack,
and they’re hit there.
They’re made to go day after day
to an excuse for school.
Exams punish them.
Their day is wasted
in mean environments.
Of course they bully each other.
That’s what they’re learning there.

Can we take them home?
Home’s a little harder,
where the environment spills out.
My God kids are beaten,
made to serve their parents,
told they are alive for their parents,
controlled to the nth degree,
lied to, spit on,
and treated like they don’t count much.
Is this your typical home in Pondicherry?
It happens enough to produce this girl
and her ordeal.
Do you know the will available to abuse her
from the collective conscious of Pondicherry?
Set it right.

These are tell-tale signs
that give us some indication what’s goin’ on
in the collective.
The symbol reproduces it
in exaggerated form.
It was not done by God it was done by devils,
the demons attached to the men that did it
and the horde of demons that came to feed.
They’re all over Pondicherry.
You don’t know their station here
all over the world.
They’re in your homes and families.
They are the evil behind the act.
We can only see the act.

Will you bear with me
as I show you the blame game?
I don’t know the timeline,
but this girl didn’t die right away.
She spent a couple of days
in a house very close to her home.
Nobody was lookin’ there
with the focus of their concentration.
Maybe she’d be alive if they did.
A news report had broadcast some days earlier
Hindi kidnappers were afoot
kidnappin’ children in Pondicherry.
That took the news
and stupidly took the police station.
Tamils don’t like out of state.
They don’t want Hindi people here.
So the search begin
focusing on the mass hysteria
of these organ sellers?

A video had circulated,
of course,
a Hindi kidnapper confessing all
and tellin’ of the network in Pondicherry.
That was the focus of the search,
not for the little girl.
I don’t know if they combed the neighborhood,
knocked on doors,
but that old man’s house was nearby,
and he lived alone suspicious.
What kept him from being searched?
She was alive and there when they found her missin’,
being raped repeatedly,
while they looked elsewhere,
and she wasn’t just murdered;
she was killed with Hell’s hands.

Where are the Hindi kidnappers now?
They are two Tamils in police hands,
neighbors nearby.
They young man had raped her before,
and the old man ordered him to kidnap her
and bring her to him,
by threatening him with police would you believe?
It all happened so fast.
She was nabbed playing outside
near her house.
We have ganja to blame,
new reports say.
They were pot smokers,
and it corrupted their Tamil.
Tamils wouldn’t do this otherwise.
Do you see the logic?
Ban grass!
and people are demonstratin’ in town.
It’s already illegal.

What’s goin’ on?
A culture is blind to itself,
every culture on Earth.
can we get ourselves to see?
What do you do with your children,
the first thing you should ask.
Are you a teacher?
You’re complacent just being one,
but are you happy there?
Do you really get mad at children?
Do they see you smile throughout the day?
Do they know your lovingkindness?
It’s too much for you isn’t it,
the system.
You take it out on the kids.
Would you get yourself to see that?

Now parents,
do you shine on your children
all the love and attention they need?
It’s backbreakin’ work idn’t it,
takin’ care of a home.
Kids throw wrenches in the system don’t they,
mess things up,
won’t leave things alone.
What do you do with them?
I’m not askin’ if you love them or not.
Do you speak harshly to them?
Do you hit them?
Do you rag on them all the time?
They don’t measure up do they?

No kids does
in his parents’ room.

Pondicherry I’m sorry this is you.
You’re hateful to your children,
not every minute,
not in every home,
but it’s there
strong enough to get this girl killed.
You share responsibility Pondicherry
with these two men,
and I’ve written this poem so you can see that.

Do you know what a kidnapper is?
Hold in the atmosphere
the abuse of children
where they are kidnapped.
That’s the formula for TV.
That’s the formula for Tamil Nadu.
That’s the formula for Pondicherry.
If you don’t see this more murders will come,
more kidnappings.
You’ll need to break ship to get it to stop.
You’ll have to come from oneness base.
That’s not typical.
That’s not ordinary.
That’s not the way we do things.
It’s time we start.

All this talk of Hindu today,
Hindu this, Hindu that,
riled over cows,
marriage conversions,
temples in the air.
I think Hindu gave the world oneness,
didn’t it?
It’s its underlying philosophy.
On this Hindu stands.
Where do you see it today
in Hindu society?
Is it ever-present?
It’s not Hindu it’s oneness
Hindu’s about.
That is the temple we yard.
That’s what brought it into being.

Hindu is alive on oneness.
Without it it’s dead.
Can you show me where India is alive today?
Is Hindu alive today?
Let’s do Hindu.
Let’s do oneness.

I’m just anxious to ICU,
and did you know that Hindu does that,
brings us all to church?
No, we need to get past temples
and the religious offerings.
We need to see oneness
as the everyday of our lives.
In practical hands
it works,
when you see the underlying of it all.
Here I’ve shown you.
I’m sorry Muslims don’t do this,
or Christians,
and Buddhists don’t believe it’s there.
It’s the oneness of everything,
the vibrant conscious oneness.
It’s what Hindu has given to the world.
It’s the truth of things.
It’s why I’m here,
and I’m here a long way from you.
Will you join me in oneness?

Is this area to become worldwide useful?
And oneness it is.
We become practical that way.
If we become oneness it is.
We have to find
the way there.
I did,
after bein’ horrible to children.
It made me do it.
I was open to God.
I’m sleepin’ with one now,
holding him safe,
writing you this poem.
I’ve taken care of him all night,
his little heart,
making sure he knows I’m here.
He’s on me now,
his little face
on my chest.
He’s seven now.
He was born in my room.
That means he was born from my house.
His mother’s pregnancy was there.
I’m a parental figure.

He trusts me.
I have the key to his pants,
but I don’t get into them with desire hands.
He’s Nithish’s little brother.
Nithish is in his room sleeping.
I know how to take care of children,
after so much trial and error.
They really like my house.
They are so welcome there,
and I know how to do it,
take care of a kid,
just enough hands off to leave them alone,
just enough hands on to give them what they need.
This is fun for me.
Did I hear you call me pedophile?
I do love children,
so much I can be in their presence all day,
and I love it there.
You need people like me.
I make mistakes with my anger sometimes,
yell and scream,
and quickly apologize.
They rule.

My ego gets bashed a lot,
but you concede to a kid.
You treat them well.
They need to be the center of attention.
The house revolves around them,
in any God-given house,
naturally.
I teamwork this with Douglas,
and he’s good with kids,
funny as all get out,
and we keep them kids safe
and well taken care of.
We are sweet to them.
Everybody watches us do it
here on the farm,
smiles and warm faces,
and we’ve been along together for years.
Now I’m takin’ it to the next level,
the public eye.

I want you to see oneness
in operation.
I’m one with you,
one with these kids,
and I want the world to see that it can be done,
correct your problems with kids
and move on.
This is what I’m doin’ now,
shakin’ Pondicherry by the leg,
and sayin’ hey wake up,
you need to change your way with kids.
Is that too much to ask?
It’s what we must ask.
It starts with kids,
our humanity,
and the world unfolds in their hands
how our hands have treated them.
It’s not a nice world today is it?

Be nice to kids and it will be soon.
If one generation,
all around the world,
could get it together with kids,
and heal themselves of the abuse of them,
the world would change automatically,
dramatically be a better world.
Is there too many of us to try?
We can get it down in Pondicherry.
We can take one city
and show the ropes.
We can make it our mandate, plan,
not with the policeman’s stick,
the angry shout,
the tabloid news.
It would have to be on oneness base.
It would have to be holistically done.
Hey, I’ve got a problem;
can you give me the space to heal?

The healing would be immense.
We would record how.
It’s on God’s base,
a dynamic healing plan
right inside you.
You’re hearin’ it speak now,
an immune system we don’t know about.
It heals us.
Punishment, hatred,
doesn’t.

What am I sayin’?
Pondy grab your files and heal
from what makes you abuse kids.
I’ve shown a way,
if you’re relaxed enough,
if you can do it non-judgmentally
and not even condemn yourself.
It’s a love angle.
It’s where we’re happenin’.
Healin’s what we gotta do.
Can we get started Pondicherry?
Let’s see you put this on the news.

The Mother Waits

photo by the author
God as the ultimate existence that stands up creation,
I would not see this as the Mother’s fancy.
It was not her might.
It wasn’t even what she was doin’.
She was an Integral on Earth,
a divine mother in human form.
She was perfect and cast away all cares?
What does a Mother mistake look like?
It doesn’t look strong.
We can pick apart her works,
accept what we want,
throw away the rest.
No, we would not find the Mother there,
but we need to know she’s strong,
who made mistakes.

Who couldn’t see her mistakes,
would that be a bridge too far?
It’s the point of contention.
It’s where we start.
Now an integral arrangement sees everything
in light of integrality.
I will melt this understanding
if I say it too quickly.

The Yoga of Integral Perfection
calls for perfection before you start.
Is that the gardener of the house?
What does it mean be perfect in everything you do,
always be perfect,
never falter,
never let your guard down once,
and be austere always
and ban pleasure from the room,
all forms of pleasure,
and wait for the bliss divine?
I’ve paraphrased what the Mother said.

I’ve told you the truth.
You can read it yourself.
Do we take this and run with it?
We die.
It’s not possible in a human life.
This is what we avoid,
rigidity,
a non-integral arrangement.
What happened here?

The Mother spoke from her gun.
She didn’t lift her voice and sing.
She got carried away
with the force of her words.
She wanted divine perfection now.
She couldn’t possibly tell us to get there that way:
no flesh in the pan;
put it on immediately.
And yet this is what the Mother told us.
It gives us scars.
It makes us chew nails.
It can’t be right.

We are left wonderin’ what to do,
and we go to another place and she said
balance your way there;
don’t be moral-minded;
don’t be a puritan;
take it one step at a time;
come to integrality slowly
as fast as you can;
give yourself room to breathe;
it’s okay darlin’ I love you.

Can the Yoga see this,
the Mother made mistakes?
We would have to look at her death,
months of moanin’ agony,
and Pranab said she never mentioned the Work.
We have to look at this.
I’m sorry we have to.
Was this a baseball card?
No, it was her death.
It happened to the Mother,
and she spoke so bravely of death
on so many occasions.

What happened there?
All her austerities came to bear.
She couldn’t lift them no more.
They caught up to her,
and in the end they ruled her.
Do you know what she did?
She kept death at bay.
She actually, physically, kept death at bay,
and it was her time to go.
That’s what we must see,
the strength of a God was in that will,
but it was misplaced,
misapplied,
because she was there to conquer death you see.

Oh wait a minute I’m backin’ up.
She was there to override death,
make the physical a plaything of matter.
My gun has misfired,
I’m sorry.
Make the physical obey the will of the Mother.
In all her austerities involving matter,
that was her aim.

She didn’t get that far.
She came upon her consciousness
and wanted done with it,
and here’s where I do you business.
She wanted done with the spiritual transformation
before it was complete.
How do I climb that mountain?
Have patience with yourself my dear.
How did I come to that conclusion?
Evidence of the ego in Mother’s Agenda,
her outbursts of anger
on the floor,
her impatience with herself,
her still working it out in dream,
her pride
at being who she was.
The Gods wanted her darshan
she told a child once,
who had angered the Mother for not waiting on her.
Watch her hide her toothless grin.
What do you say Donny?
Mother I love you.

In his haste to put things right,
make her where the Yoga stands,
Sri Aurobindo overlooked these things in her,
and no one could challenge him otherwise.
Do you watch the Agenda?
Early on is it?
She tells Satprem she has gone beyond Sri Aurobindo.
The exact nature of her words mean that.
I think it’s the next session or shortly thereafter,
she reports Sri Aurobindo with a stomachache.
It’s all over his face.
Now this is vision of course.
What was he trying to tell her?
She missed it completely.
Do you see it?
She hadn’t gone beyond Sri Aurobindo.

These are ugly things to look at,
and we don’t want to.
The Yoga of Integral Perfection bids us do.
In her mistakes we are made right.
We let them do what they need to do,
give us some indication of the hardness of our endeavor,
know that it’s not worked out yet
the Yoga,
and help us do it ourselves,
avoiding those mistakes.

My God I’m sorry I’m showin’ this to yah.
I’ve dealt with it for years.
Maybe you have too?
There was the Mother in books,
and there was the Mother holding my hand,
now my kid’s hand,
sometimes very different Mothers.
Can you hear this?
You’d have to get concrete inner contact to see it.

I’m not down on her.
She is the one I follow
to make this yoga work for me.
It’s her hand I hold.
It’s her eyes that direct me where I’m to go.
To write this poem
I tried to tell her no.
I don’t want to make you mad at me.
Maybe we’re newfound friends?
I obey the Mother,
not always,
not every time,
but in my life
she eventually gets her way.
I concede.

In you’re hearin’ this poem
I do.
Please don’t shoot me for it.
I love the Mother.
I am her disciple,
and I take her to heart,
an integral, loving, mother
that is the divine power behind this yoga,
our protection,
and our abide by Sri Aurobindo.
Do I give you all my knowledge at once?
They are one you know.

Now let’s get this beer can
away from my lips.
The Mother wants it so.
Now every once in awhile
is fine.
Now here’s the deal:
how do you break the rules by followin’ them?
There has to be a plan,
and the Mother laid this one out for me.
I like beer,
just a beer in the evening one or two times a week,
but that would be every evening and two beers before long,
and the Mother knows that.
I could become an alcoholic
so easily.
The Mother’s told me that.
Okay here it is:
an austerity of every once in awhile
has to be followed to the letter,
and I will know what that letter is
when it comes time for another beer
inner contact with the Mother and sincere.

Can I get you a train?
She’s here for all of us,
and she’s right there with the plan
for your sadhana.
The divine mother she is.
Expanded so after death,
became that omniscient being
as far as we’re concerned
sadhaks of the Integral Yoga.
She’s our Shakti.
She’s our boss.
She’s such a loving mother,
incredibly above cars,
and you and me are a car
takin’ our yoga down the street.
My job these days
get that yoga goin’,
by principlin’ it in myself
every time I turn around,
using myself as the chopping block.
I try everybody.
It’s not like I always succeed,
but I’m the Yoga
speaking about itself.
Will you give me the time of day?
Thank you.

The Mother waits
for integral understanding,
move this yoga down the road.
Am I just a blight on y’all’s ears?
Correction.
I have the integral word.
Will you hear it?
You mean practice?
If you could do it.
Okay this is the church process.
No, it’s everything that touches you throughout the day.
It gets bigger you understand,
a divine process.
That’s an integral arrangement.

Gonna application
in the very spots that give you problems,
and you’ll get better at it every day,
with many drawbacks,
even goin’ backwards.
It’s piecemeal with sudden starts
into a brand new day.
Ever the horizon waits
for you to arrive,
and another horizon comes into view,
day after day after day.
You just integral see
you’re comin’ together on the plan,
and it’s all comin’ home to yah now
you get better at it.

Enjoy yourself some,
yeah sure.
Vital letting the hair down
puts this yoga in perspective,
and sometimes it’s not even wrong.
I can’t rulebook.
This is as plastic as infinity,
and all your nature’s on the line,
learnin’ how to control itself,
learnin’ how to be made right,
learnin’ the way to go.
It doesn’t happen all at once.
It’s a blind see
in the very beginning,
a hope and promise
in the middle,
a really coming unto yourself
a divine keeper
as you arrive.
Awesome the world looks,
and it’s not your master anymore.

Can I glide here?
This is where every minute counts.
This is where you have to do it or die.
This is what you’ve all built up to,
and you really pull it together here,
with the Mother’s help,
and it is always there,
the Mother’s see.

All I know is that cat,
she gets and spites you,
that muse of creation,
but I didn’t close this poem off to the public.
This better be good.
Because I struggled with the Mother in writing for years,
her presentation on paper,
the discrepancy between that and the Mother
that was guiding me,
and I’m not the only one.
She’s soft and warm,
but she’s fierce in her picture.
She can sound so ego
in the things that she said.
She can sound ridiculous
a time or two,
like she wasn’t grounded in reality,
especially near the end.
Her obsession with truth for example,
would if you’re hiding Jews?

Somethin’ happened to her later in life.
She became obsessed with questions
that body of hers could not answer.
She wanted immortality
that the body wrote,
and she left Sri Aurobindo’s teachings,
here and there,
in the yelp of her cells,
a sadhana so perilous,
she almost lost her mind.
She gave Satprem a golden key
to screw up the Yoga after she died,
with the transformation of the cells
what the Yoga now means
to so many in Auroville
and around the world.

She set him up for failure,
and we could not ignore him,
she put so much attention into him,
and we need to ignore him.
He was an egoistic maniac.
And what of Pranab,
did you ever meet ‘im?
A hateful man.
The Mother chose him to be her guardian,
and we’re left with his legacy today.
What a hateful ashram we have.
I’m dealin’ with that now.
My little boy makes ‘em mad,
bein' with a White man,
and they’ve been mean to him.
I can’t write poems there now.

Do you know what the Mother said about music?
Narad was gonna bring down the new music,
and he tried and tried.
There was no understandin’ what the new music was,
but it’s basically music played or sung to you on the inside,
and you’re open to supramental life.
Narad didn’t get that.
He was not a vehicle to get there.
Ananda Reddy was given a mandate to spread Sri Aurobindo’s gospel,
make it understandable to men.
He’s tried and tried.
Thinks he’s done it
from what I understand.
He’s gotten the Yoga off track
and is not open to the Mother.
He hates me,
and Narad won’t speak to me,
ever.
What do you do with that?
You call it ill will.

We’re left with the Mother speaks,
and that was not always correct.
Can we find our way around that?
I have.
I’ve confronted it head on.
I’ve seen behind the veil,
and I understand the Mother in time.
They said if you saw her you would understand.
She was more than human.
I’ve questioned so many people about that.
Her presence caused people to wonder
if not God had filled the room.
Did you know she slapped a little girl
across the face?
I heard it from her brother himself.
He witnessed it,
was a kid too.
She got mad at the child and hit her,
and no one said a word.
It was at a function and the child misbehaved,
nothing major.

Was that the first time?
Why did I hear about it?
I would imagine you haven’t.
That about wraps it up,
the last image I want you to see,
to understand
the Mother was wrong sometimes
in her earthly embodiment.
A Yoga of Self-Perfection she wore
she didn’t live up to,
never mind the Goddess behind the frame.
She told us to be perfect,
and we can’t,
not at least from day one.
I’m finished,
a poem
so real on itself
fulfills the time on the Earth.