Watched this film, and then the second poem came, the long one, an hour after, and it came all night.
The Banality of Evil, We’re Watchin’ a Different Movie
This is grand cinema. You’re left wonderin’ over its price. Are you opened to that puppy? Just to the pain it caused. Just to its wherewith with evil. We need more from cinema, powerfully done. I’m the long ride. I’ll get you there on sudden bleeds: you will identify with the snake, or your heart pounding no. I heal awhile. Listen to me.
To Heal Holocaust
Heal God. Boy God has done some bad shit, if we count Him responsible for everything, if we say He’s the doer here. How do we get round this table? And now the poem starts. Let’s write it.
You must know into the most horrible places. I’ve climbed down there and got burned. I can identify with the snake. I’ve opened Holocaust doors by beer-bottlin’ a boy. He cried and then got tough. I hit him again and again with that beer yard, two or three boys.
It didn’t make me throw up. I took pleasure from their pain. The control I had, I was in their control room and I knew it. Their weakness turned me on, their vulnerability. I liked it.
This is a Holocaust memorial. It’s not me writin’ on myself. I showin’ where it came from, that and a knife blade. These smites transform into big smites, transform into Holocaust. I'm helpin' you some. I’m going ludicrous. I’m just stupid sayin’ this.
Let’s change poems. What do you feel when you hurt people, your power over them? No you feel your delight that it’s not you. We’re explorin’ some. It’s a probe. Not every formula has got this written on it, but somethin’ happened to you, when you could not fight back, too little to do anything about it. It scarred you. Now you’re investigatin’ that reality, and it’s your hands cause pain, your thrust of life.
This is not healin’ you’re doin’. You just keep doin’ it, a wack in reality that repeats itself, with your hands. What do you do to stop? I can’t get yah there. It’s too wide open. Jeffery Dahmer pulled the plug. Then he started killin’ again. You didn’t know he suffered. You didn’t know he didn’t turn that down, his longness in the inner cycle. Where do we go for change? Wrapped up in an investigation of yourself, you open the inner doors.
Really watch yourself in dream. The plug will come up. You’ll eventually pull it the right way. You just keep erasin’ mood, that spell that comes over yah when you’re around water, when you’re at that place you can do it. This is your fault line, and it’s inner sprung.
You’ve got to get ahold of your behavior, on the inside where it starts. This ain’t hard/this is not easy. [two above phrases heard spoken simultaneously] You’ll see how it’s done in your visual immune system. Message, it will message you. It gives a little chance for you to aim behavior rightly.
You’ve got to get ahold of the bull. You’ve got to grab it by the horns. I took years here, in Holocaust denial. It’s when you begin to see it it’s the hardest. You can’t close the curtains, even when you do it. You can touch it and move it around. You’re puttin’ light down there. This is not about feeling guilty. This is about recognizing pain.
What is true remorse? You feel pain buddy, making other people suffer, but you’re still not in the geography bowl. Look on these two: the ordination of love, and the realizing of oneness. How deep you have to go to get there, how much time pass.
This is integral healing. I know someone that can’t even rise a fantasy. The light got down there. You feel the vulnerability of the other, and you just want to hold them in your arms safe. You can believe you did that. You can see yourself doin’ it, not playin’ it in your mind, I mean it had sergeant over you before, but you’re at peace with it, and you put it out of your room.
We have no laws for this. We’re not ready to find it. There are too many of us to make it safe. It’s good for the environment. I wasn’t so bad I chained people. I was a love roll. I know you don’t understand this. The assurities of Adolf Hitler, that was absurd, and afterwards so complex. It was positively brilliant. Wow, you said brilliant. We would eat lunch there. I’m not bragging it. I’m not starring it. Nobody has a secret weapon to find change in these dark waters.
I’m putting a healing light to it, using my own brand. You don’t know the fashion of evil. You think it comes from us. Its dark nature rises from the Abyss. There are creatures there on a beanpole, with tremendous might, that invade our dreams and conscious minds, and tell our hearts to do things. They are compulsion’s will, and they are smarter than us. Oh my God they’re there, right in our room, pushing us to fall.
What do you do with that? Where do you put it? They don’t give up, and we have to put up with them, on our world endeavor. That’s not fair. It’s not even funny. It’s a stark reality we have to live with. So when you’re coming out of darkness, you’re confronting these, the Snake in your room.
Oh my God they are blind, the ones who hate you for the evil you have done. They’re just self-righteous idiots, and they will see when this is done, when their life’s over, the complexities of fate, the manage devils in your room, the horrible nature of reality in its bottom lair.
We have to contend with this to overcome fate. We cannot escape it. I’ve mentioned the ballgame, what we’re really here for, to change our nature into God dwellers, to spiritualize, divinize, Nature. I’ve pulled the rank card, and you are blind to this. It’s too big. It’s the science of changing your nature, and your own process will see that glory immune system, the one I talk in visions and dreams, the one I talk now. It holds your hand here, and now we are complete: God heals.
Yawn as you snap them Gods. They wouldn’t know what to do with Themselves free. We see Them bound to our lives in cosmic grooves of fate. They are larger than time. They can’t get out of this. We are prisoners in Their room. They study us. They can’t seem to get us right. We’re a whirlwind in a thunderstorm, and They are stillness and delight, and They control themselves with might. The clash of Speakers we hear overhead, They’re around about us now.
We are cosmic poles in Their existence. Hear Them call our name. Hear Them be there for us to change our natures into man. If you don’t think you’re an animal look back now, where you meet nature in a click that eats up all of nature’s stores, and then you go to war. You’re a forest dweller in the nature of your desires. You can’t see past get up and go. The Gods are there on our tops, guiding us to better cages. They do not know the freedom of the Infinite. In a paradox of know, They stumble upon the Infinite and stretch it to tin cans.
The Gods they wore, the bright and start of old. They can’t seem to find the Infinite all their knowledge bore. They cut us in creeds of certain flesh. Religion bore that name. The Gods have bound us to this. They are a soliloquy on our tops, giving us lore. I can’t find this improving our lives. They are a reason against the Snake, but where they find you biting, They are blind to heal you. They just make you stop. They don’t know the deeper reasons of life’s coil.
They are not there you see here on life’s base encased in matter. They see us from afar up close. They do not understand the knot and waste. They live out Their lives in splendid heavens, traveling toward infinity, the kingdom of God, all righteousness and wrath. They sip with us awhile foundering on compassion. They are brave and strong and know not the poison of the fall. Evil is not on Their lists. It baffles Them and us. They chase it out of night. They battle it with Their spears and helmets on the patchwork of the universe.
We are Their hope and promise to principle evil and grab it by the horns, a victory for starry Earth. A seer in his wisdom has gift the Gods to us, else we would fall into the Void. This is not our fate, but we are beyond the Gods on our journey home. They are a regulation and a might to keep us from starring ourselves, to keep us from getting bigger than our lists, to keep us from operating on ourselves where They are concerned. They are both a help and a hindrance. We need Them. No we don’t. They help us get hold of ourselves. They keep us from going home.
We just changed fate and the world, without Their interference, where They languish on land. We’re here. They’re not. Beyond space and time we write our lists. The Gods can’t go there, unless they do as one of us. That’s a starry role, fraught with peril, fraught with mercy. This is an endeavor for the Gods only if They want to go beyond Their starry heaven. We don’t see Them do that none time soon. The Earth’s great spiritualization will see Them incarnate here. It’s a vehicle of Supermind.
The tallest bond, this is the engine we’ve all been waiting for. It’s bigger than the sky. It’s our next step above, beyond the Gods. These are our evolutionary springs and their destination. We have broke the bounds of the universe and come to universal cause. No cosmic God can figure this. This is a whole other ballgame. These are universal bonds the conditions of the universe find us in. They prefigure us to a certain stage. This is starry night, and the Gods are our guides the conditions of the universe impose. This is our starry prison.
A nursery rhyme is this. We live on high, who we are above the universe, our next prefigured destiny. The Gods are aware of this. They are not our goads there. They hinder us and move us in Their direction. This is a starry configuration we are lost in. Greater home is ours. Can you save the Gods? I wouldn’t even find you there. The Gods are cosmic hierarchies permanent in Their heavens, and They love it here, all-powerful Beings with worlds to play. We applaud Them and move on.
Can you see this? It’s what we’re doin’ on planet Earth. We will bring our higher selves here to inhabit bodies on physical Earth, our bodies, in evolution’s slow curve. Who we are on high will be who we are down below, the monumental change hidden in the size of Earth. We will get there, and existence will have its heaven right here. Will you notice this in your room? It’s starting on our tops now, and here I am showin’ it to yah in sudden starts. Greatness lies wait. Okay, global consciousness, and we’ve found our solution to the room, present Supermind.
These are the high stakes. We’re in the water now. Who we gonna tell? Come on kids let’s go. We have a world to feel. Keeps yah on your toes. This is the most important thing to hold onto to: challenge the window. We don’t beg each other’s fences. Here everybody that’s a whole Earth. The lesson in the window: through a big difference we see it all.
Bring in a new game. How was Earth made? It has a special core, the universal core. How do we evolve what do we evolve? We can hack other Minds. Clarity Grace is not just a name. It’s an power, one of a kind for Earth. Kings are not just patriots. They’re criminals in their own kind. We should put some cushions under the Earth. We just dream of a perfect life. [the above verse Nithish’s muse, my 12-year-old grandson, what he heard right where mine left off, ending this poem. He’s named his new Beagle puppy Clarity Grace.]
The universe has hit me, and we saw it happen the universe of Nithish, not quite done. You’ve gotta figure we’ve got a friend with some God, the cosmic hierarchies Mother and Sri Aurobindo. You’ve got to figure we’re in liaison with some God. It’s the mailman in a blue truck open to Supermind at every pole.
Nithish and I taking a selfie together for this poem
This poem was written for the trustees of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry, India, and was given to them the only way correspondence can be, if you are not an ashramite or someone they know, by giving it in an envelope to Mr Puru at the photo room adjacent to the Samadhi, and whether or not he will pass it on is entirely up to him. The Samadhi is the tomb of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo, where people come to sit, meditate, and pray, which is located at the ashram.
We met these tomfooleries. Do you ever look at your own car? Can you be a better sadhak in wood, a better disciple of Sri Aurobindo? I lunge there: I spend my day in total concentration. This is a farmer on my land. I really till the soil. The concentration comes and goes, but it’s picked up time and time again. It’s fits and starts, all day long.
Can you be a better sadhak of Sri Aurobindo? I’m burnin’ on that ground. I clear my mind and find it’s there, for few certain minutes. Can we come back to this? I always do. I am disciple of Sri Aurobindo that always hears words my inner ear hears. I write them down through a voice recorder. My God I’m a seer someone said. No one’s said this yet. I’m just this guy with wood, if you see me on the street, held by my little boy.
He’s white and I’m black, as society sees us, an easy lesson in symbols if you hear. What color am I with him? I am navy green. That means he’s safe with me. What a spectacle for a pair of eyes. The racial mix’s intriguing, on the bandwidth of ourself. Don’t doctor this up. We’ve got infinity going for us, racin’ around, a whole field show. We do sadhana together. I be his teacher.
He’s not cloven foot. He stands on his sadhana too, a kid in grace and poise. Okay stand back. Here’s where we differ. Open the inner consciousness child. Reach in there and find soul. Open up in vision God. The Mother and Sri Aurobindo take those places so many times in his dreams and visions, and in his understanding of God. A child’s understanding basks in time. No matter, they are his guides and goads.
He’s opened the inner consciousness, and his poetry would map our Earth, if we but could give it time to breathe. School shoves it down his throat: hey kid, study for your exams? An exam is a holdover from the last institution: caveman you gotta learn this mile; it’s survival of the fittest. My God the lists against this kid are strong. It’s a wonder he’s even doing it, bein’ a vehicle of the inner voice. The inner lines are strong.
I know the doubt and fear cast on this. You would only see to know. His latest poem I include at the back of this email. His latest voice I include. We measure this by the strength of his ego. That’s not fair. A little kid’s sense wrote this.
Now here we are sittin’ at the back of this ego. And we mention the poet. I’m in the poem you see. Now listen to a story. I’ve given my kid the voice recorder. He might get a line. We are at the opposite pole of the Samadhi from the crowd. I’ve never sat there before. I'm with my other student Mithun, who hears inner music. I don’t got no more students but them.
A band plays. I hear the line “Ice cold Samadhi” just given into my inner ear, but my boy’s got the voice recorder occupied, whisperin’ in two lines of his own: “Rechargeable minds here, Olympus.” Here’s where it gets weird. Someone not connected with the Samadhi watch, not a staffer there, or so I think not, gets an eye on the voice recorder, walkin’ by the mountain. “Gimmie that.” No polite words were spoken, no considerations one, no respect none.
It’s here you’re doin’ sadhana, when somebody pops yah. All the gold comes out. I’m sorry to say none of mine did. In the ensuing conversations with this person and that, I just defended myself, and my boy there. I did not do what I was supposed to do: not react, but I didn’t tell one person off. I kept reaction out of my voice, to the degree anger and ill will I didn’t let show.
This I was careful to do. No one heard me. No one said a word. You know how this is gonna be reported: that son of a bitch lied and stole. You will believe your people, of course, but all things show themselves in time, and no one will be able to lie then, together or apart.
I’m left with a voice recorder I’ve used there now many years. I’ve written poems from that Samadhi, framed one and gave it to yah, “The Rotisserie of God”. No one has ever copied me, the reason I was told I couldn’t do it: everyone will. You think I’d of been discovered by now if it were a ruckus, but I can bring a pencil and paper if you insist. That leaves me with gold they will take from me there, when I come to pray. We will check you now every time. You know when a threat’s spoken. It’s the hatred in their eyes. We will harass you every time you come here. Can this not be what they really said?
Well Savitri asks for boons, from the spectre death. I’m not gonna ask for the blind to see. I’m just a sadhak not Savitri, but I hear you call my name, and can I write poetry sir on my voice recorder at the Samadhi? Well, I’ll wait. Now here’s the one I’m worried about. Can I enter the ashram gates without bein’ harassed? I’ll bring pencil and paper sir, until you tell me otherwise. No hidden cameras to record my voice I’ll wear. Do we have a deal?
Trustee please, are you spiritual? This is a Samadhi question. I live there in my heart all the time. I react, sure, but I’m there, and I live in vision. I see the world before my eyes a thing under creation. It’s being made right now. I hear this in vision, and you did too. “Ice cold Samadhi” means it was a frigid place emotionally, and where was this? It was in the situation I described. These men were ice cold, no warmth at all in their voice or in their eyes. Immediately they rose to anger, all riled upon themselves, and I’d had prevision of this, in that line of muse, just before it started.
The world rose there, before my very eyes, and I only saw it after it was over. Could help then? Well it sure helps in our conversation. I don’t think those men gathered the future before it happened. They were not focused and gathered. All came to put that foreigner in his place, like their reaction was natural the order of the day, like they weren’t doing sadhana. They acted like the inner voice had no place in Sri Aurobindo’s yoga. It was wrong.
Can I tell you something else? Well, my inner voice was right on. I forgot to tell yah… Some people say no I just made a mess. He wants to go over it look— my muse on where I’ve been. I’ve been to the moon and back, if you’re listenin’ to muse, and I’ve danced with the military on tactical nukes, a U.S. special forces commando. I’ve been in the heart and breath stop in Silent Mind, that hurried glance, and I saw the Gods in their tiers in Overmind, and on a rim of dreamless sleep, dived into the well of soul. Would you believe in overhead? The consciousness raises up there, like several meters, and there you find Supermind. Makes for a lot of poetry. Brief glimpses all, but I’ve seen what I’m sayin’.
I can go round about the world a penniless vagabond— 27 countries in 10 years. Do you have that faith? I don’t think you even learned Classical Greek. Translate Euripides into English verse, and you’ll gather strength in poetry. You also get good at it, in time. Took me 25 years, even after I started hearin’ it.
Now can we define the future poetry? The future’s got that in hand. I don’t understand. I’ve heard the future call my name, and you won’t show this to anyone? Paper airplanes every poem I’ve made? Make or break yah, these are not conventional teeth. Are you open to the divine? Candywood make or break yah, what you hear on the internet today.
I’m sorry I took it up, the internet speaker. I get laughed at and lauded. The latter’s not louder, but they’ve gotta eat too, the people on there for the breeze, and I might be seen soon by a pitchfork and a vital that hate me so much I go viral. Look there’s nothing in them, the threats I face today. The rotating officer is not interested in me. I’m not hurtin’ anybody. I’m not doin’ anything wrong. Now you’re starrin’ me, at your look see.
Oh well, do it to her face okay? Get another bad piece from her. You gave her a poem that said she needed to work on it, humanity’s tiger. Do people really wanna act like that at the ashram? A boy his hair, that’s what he does. I thought you’d notice they walk silly. Good idea, I’m talking about being human kind and loving to all who enter your gates.
You’re gonna have to, whadda you do? Really buckle down and be good to people, and her hair could be picked up too, and she could focus and concentrate, breakin’ along can reality period, yeah, yeah. Global, I even ask you to global change. Here it is you have a mirror. There’s broad stroke said it. There’s the yoga. Everybody makes mistakes. Would you offer this to the Mother?
Opening up kids, I agree with you. We don’t block them from society. We fathom them God. We don’t fathom them school. And they become there, on the journey to God a society rose. What do we hope by it? We get bigger than ourselves. His heart, a little boy rises his soul. A little boy rises I’ve been meanin’ to tell you. The expectation’s not the kid. It’s the consciousness. What’s this mountain? You wanna bring God into the world.
I tried to do a little explainin’ on boyness and the nature of man, on bein’ human. We are here for this. We need all our strength. Practice is another suite. Send it sweet. Did you get everybody put in this spirit? It takes the world to make it up. Blown up yeah. We made it here, in this section, to the touch of a magazine. Everything’s online, and this will be too, now or never.
Do you understand the flavor here? That’s the flavor of change. That’s the flavor of Harm’s End. These are bunk beds, and we live here, grandfather and his grandson you keep hittin’ at. Did I mention Douglas? Puts together his life with the Mother. A house is not complete without dogs, and we have four. They are the love of our life.
Our friend is on the roof, Narasimha, protecting my house if you should try to take me down. I don’t die. A divine worker is protected. This is what I’m aiming: the life divine. So much power, you’ll have instructions. May God bless you.
Your outer form was carried right. We are not derelicts or sinners. We are safe and sound. I’m will extra deep, alright? Okay, you have been warned. You don’t mess with divine protection, but are you really mean-spirited? Does the Mother cross your brow if you should hate someone? Okay your character’s on the table now. May you wish blessings for all. May you really hold the Mother’s hand.
I bear you no ill will. I’m not in a campaign to smear your name. I’m doin’ what I’m supposed to be doin’, here writing you a poem, now doing sadhana. I’ve changed the ticker tape in his life, that kid. Am I glad he met me with the divine. I’ve met you that way. That’s the story. Oh wait a minute daddy I wanna fix my lunch, one second. A purity of kid rose, a gracious cartoon. Now let’s survive this and become better friends.
You know it’s there, the fact of your will or consciousness behind a lesson. Okay, noted. Well it will transfer that it was made by the foreigner. Okay, spit on ‘im. I don’t think so. Your thought process in relation to your thoughts, and you pick them up randomly? Now that’s got uncle and brother, your bigger clothes, without AI. I’m here to help.
Paradise Things With Lyrics by S. Nithish
Reach for peace, but it’s a long jump away. It’s One stairs. Butterflies are our airplanes. They’re peaceful and calm. They can fly us to space. From there we need to walk.
There’s a place for everybody in the world. I did two steps: let the Light be the guide; my place is out of this world. We all have something that we should pass on. I do not have a turnoff button.
The ancient minds were better. They left out clues for us. They left out clues around the world. We should always say thanks. Stars were meant to be together.
In and out cars, this one got longer hair. I’ll print the trailer one horse at a time. In the first poem, [link] the codpiece is about enlightenment. We need our system’s input, and we are too skeptical for God in our lives. The horse and pony show makes us system mean. We rob flowers, in all department stores. Terrible consequences for wood. We get ostracized and banished from society, and this is kingdom hall. We bleed and we say grace in the wrong movement. Can you discover this?
It chops us in half, with special counsel. You fool erase that paint. I have to rein it in. Crash on symbols. Let me monopolize ages of reason. That’s think tank in our purple yard. It’s expensive to have sex the behavior is wrong, and that is defined culturally, in sudden kingdoms. I’m a Mastodon that lost its way in heavy equipment. Society won’t forgive me for that, and it only knows the spell of society. Can you gauge that?
We pour out morality on our sleeve. We bury there all our common sense. Hallelujah I’m saved, says the Christian in the room, and society’s muffled because of that, as Christians enter the Legislature and take over government in halls of America. A thousand and one evils, they all blow up on society in a Christian yard. It helps itself to the wrong measure of man. We are so much more than behavior and bended miles.
We can’t see straight. We can’t even look. We’re confounded by time. They study us, all these wrong people in the room, the ones who think they know the right and have their hands on power. They wanna move us outta here, where we pinpoint the throes of man. You can’t lick this chocolate. It’s time on Earth is few. Everybody knows the dance, but no one knows the realization that we are loftier than our species, that we can make it right, one society at a time. This is certain gold.
We are all cattle and sheep, unwilling to find the destination of man. We think it’s a religious figure or an atheist’s technology that tries to play God. Can you character here, find the Sun? We revel in sweetness, then shoot it down with our guns. I don’t think we know what innocence is. It’s cropped out in school, and we lament the loss of innocence in children, and we stand there and rob it from them in the harmful environment of school, and we wanna make it harder, put them in there longer. Can you see this? This is the greatest fire on Earth, makes society a slave model and pits us against one another.
Have I reached the end of this talk on climate change? It’s not felled trees I’m talkin’ about or branded water, or the warmin’ skies. Can we get down to business and do the Earth? Can we see past our little lives? Can we see the bigger ship that man is and will become? How do you land down here? We have to get right with one another, and that’s our climate change. If we are going to get bigger than ourselves, we’d have to see importance in every man, woman, and child. No one is discounted. We come together on love, in every set of circumstances, unless we have to stop killin’ and people in the violent act. We have to be strong and swift for that. Then love finds us again healing lives.
This will give us breathin’ room to discover ourselves. Without this no one’s there, except the few who manage to escape society’s bellows. Where have I placed you? Where we need to go. Where we need to be. Can you refuse this? Most people will. Necessity will bring us to it in the eventful years ahead. I’m a blueprint magazine, and I have my windward sail, and you know I’m here.
I felt the wind blows. How to translate our lives a meaning shifting. You can’t ground it good. You can’t even spell it out. Where does it come from? Where is it going? It’s larger than space and time. We have our supernal roams. This give rise to these, the worlds, and we know you’re in there Mr. Nithish. It comes close to the bottom and close to the top, but a world is a beanpole. We stargaze there. We champion our own rounds. Oh come on come up.
How do you handle a hungry man? With patience and loving-kindness, unless you need to shoot ‘im, ‘cause he’s in our garden. I’ve just mentioned to you the problem. We don’t know when to quit. Our lives are in danger here, but defend ourselves means this: too much overkill. And what do you want? I’m sorry I’m backin’ off. Let’s make this count. We don’t have to be at the dinner table in the substance of our lives. We can be bigger than kin and they all wear my face. Humpy Dumpty sat on a wall.
But we’re relieved to find we are on our way, once we know how to get movin’. You there, will you just sit there and smile? The fear of death join our room. Can we back up this yard? We’ve got a whole lot to loud out, and it’s time we did not let the fear of death stop us. Who lands this creek? You’ve got to get up and get moving, knowing death is always there circling you and the lives of your loved ones. Accept death hell, we’re gonna learn to change it a long time in the future. Meanwhile, we don’t let it stop us from getting bigger than ourselves.
Oh my goodness wide movement. Morality will help you there, but it’s not the goal. We live and die: oh you’re bad temple will cook, because it’s not your religion anymore the church seat. Let’s gold bottom’s up. Where Douglas? We’ve reached stars, all over ourselves. We review the Sun, the gold I was speaking of. Can you hear it? It’s right there on the tail end of this poem. Let’s get busy with it, gettin’ the strength to see it. I give you links, the bread and butter. Let’s copy this on one another: I love you.
You want to recognize you’re there dead. You can’t take a worldview. You’re not operating in that anymore. You’ve just died. This is serious business. It’s a wake-up call on the other side. The enormity of the shock takes your breath away. You’re just stunned, not knowing what to do.
Where is Jesus? Where’s the stars? No religion has showed up yet. You’re on your own, transitioning. It hurts. It’s just simply awful. You can’t stand it. You don’t want to be there. You don’t know how to be there. There’s no instruction manual. You’re dead.
But life has just begun, the dead life on the other side. You cry out for help. Someone hears you. Are they the right one? You don’t know how to do it, receive them. You’re just so confused. You open the door to faith. What you believed in on Earth has not abandoned you, and if you didn’t believe in anything, it comes now.
It’s tall and strange. This is not what you expected. It receives you one moment/limit at a time. [above words heard spoken simultaneously] You are not automatically taken in. You’re put up with. You’re just a person there to process. The compassion of the angels shows in fits and starts. You’re a long ways off from being received on their condition. You’ve got to glow first.
Bad times ahead, as you encounter what tripped you up on Earth, what got your goat, what you couldn’t handle, what you refused to see, what you licked and swooned over, what you didn’t know hurt you. You are put in these situations where you encounter dream. There is no home base anymore, no central mode, but you come back to yourself over and over. That’s your central lair: you are this being in time.
It runs roughshod over you you have to dream on. You don’t like it. It sucks. Slowly you get your feet under yah. You get used to the rhythm of see-saw death. You climb. You step up. You receive them, all these packages of people you knew in life that you made a storybook with. Some of these are reunions. You hold their hand. Some of these are joy-shock. You cling to each other. What we wanted on Earth we get here.
You’re in union. It lasts the length of a cup, and you’ve been given a solid measure, and you are ready to depart for other perfection. You see people there you hated in life or you did under. You do not enjoy this section. It’s compensation. You give them what they need, and you move on.
This is fair and certain: you have your encounters, and they show you life as oneness sees it. You can reject no one, and all morality’s based on this. It is oneness we spring from and what we manage living. We are here to be one. A deeper look arises from our journey. We go the distance to a greater life. A quest of the Spirit pulls on us, and we let it take us in its arms. We are higher now, lighter in spirit. We are so together now, and we’re ready for more.
I’ve taken you there, right to realization’s wings, when you become a ship on the other side sailing into God’s heaven. You’re right there at Heaven’s gates, the heaven of your pearl, the one you sing about to encounter God. You are not all together a central ship. Many heavens receive you, and many positions of Heaven there are.
Now let’s get goin’ towards the realization of life. You can open those doors here and redirect your life, and when you enter death, you are in kingdom. It’s not about dyin’. It’s about being prepared to grow up. We do that here. We do that there. Here counts more than there. Here is the rollercoaster of the fly-room.
These are conscious gates you see. Open up your life here, on this growth, and life will line up to receive you in all of the quests you need. Uncanny this, strong and large. You’re in good hands on this journey to your being’s growth. I’m countin’ it to yah precisely in measure with my life under the sun. I’m a conscious arrangement, and I poetry this to you now. Bombs away. Thank God it’s Friday. Thank God I’m not in your way.
Death’s a cookbook I jargon. I have a bunch of history books repair life. You want to read them now. Come on let’s go to field. I’m a happy bottom death. I’m a joy to the world. Just listen to me sing. I planet with Mr. Rogers, still have his medicine: I really love— bonding agent to the poems I write to you. Take me.
You wanna watch that video or not? It’s limited stairs, but I’ve baked you at hide and seek, and it’s all gone wrong. There is no leeway here. You just wanna get to where you’re goin’, without all the rough stuff. You don’t wanna lollygag. There’s Hell’s kitchen that will not move away from you, if you don’t come to. Where am I? Oh shit you got it. I’ve read your paperwork on that. It’s my own. We have been through these stages so many times. It’s a revolvin’ door. Just listen.
Hullabaloo on your spot, you have to be careful. You haven’t learned my draft yet. I’ve really gotten shadows. Van Helsing, here is monster’s lair, where you find them. Don’t scream yet. They haven’t caught you. Don’t realize your time, they will. Now I’ve put all the poise in, and this poem is right here with the market. How would you find after death?
Dally there coverin’ up our pickup spots. It’s the issue save a Lord. This a mode to deliver God. How does the call center get such a hideous head? Can you hear it’s divine element? Put it in your pipe and smoke it. That’s how we race cars. We local His feet put on, and divine reason we format His being, without that hunch. I don’t say black I say white. That’s not a dirty gun. That’s not a slave our gun. I get to know You. I know you do. Now be quiet. Are You mad at me? Put 10 extra effort, add rifle to your calling card. It’s now clear. Ah, open your eyes. You’re a divine endeavor.
And that’s what we die for. I mean God put us on to be human. I haven’t listened to His music, I haven’t listened to His song, I have to keep dying to put it on, and that’s the guitar, the way we become divine. This is street music. That’s what blesses us everyone. My God I’m arch-pink, and I’ve got subscriptions.
Each thing we revolve around God. This is a vehicle of thought. Wow, we’re in the ways with man. There might be the thought in there you wouldn’t even know exact, but it already fits the handle I have my hands on God. We want to broadcast that to where our being lives in time. We are on the way to Godhood, who we are in time. Bust out usually for lunch, on the wrong and us wanting to survive. We meet that with heroes. We do not let God down. That’s our humanity. I will pick it up one role at a time and deliver it from evil, following God behind the dust.
Death is not an entrapment. We get up by it and fly. We glory it all over us. The 18 store is closed, and we reveal something else. Can we run? We no longer die, just our bodies after a long field put on. We manifest the nature of God, right here on Earth, and we have conquered death and overcome pain, and that’s where we want to go with this. There is no such thing as a void of that, and if I fall short, this will be tied together with real humanism, with my humanity, and I will overcome this obstacle in me and in man.
Okay, email. In fact, put in the right notebook and send it out to the world. Principle the opportunity. Praise the window. It’s still goes into Mind, whether we read it or not on this post. It’s how we survive the culls on thought. It’s how we survive. I’m a limit-book on that. I go beyond the limits.
Thank you for coming you’re across the road, where death is not so bright. We are not in its envelope. It is not our keeper. It’s a son of a bitch. Between love and your loved one there is death. I am sorry this be. We can do nothing about it but die. If death were a person I’d shoot him, gouge his eyes out, but let’s be reasonable about this: the acceptance of death is the acceptance of pain. Death alludes us, will not let us explain reality in terms of trust and love.
Alright it’s there. So be it. Here’s some advice a gravedigger would give you, puttin’ your body to the worms. Bardo, I don’t know, it is a spiritual test, and we grapple with it till kingdom come. That’s the starlight. I’ve spoken death, wonderful news, that we survive its existence. Anybody hungry for oblivion? See you on the other side.
You climb out of sleep into death, and that wakes you up, thank God. Get out of the water, and be calm and clear-eyed towards death. It’s a menacing stair, so necessary to our birth. Taxman that’s true, but there is so much hope in this commercial.
We don’t even know what I did. I’ve raised the sky, took the furious route. I’ve given you diamonds, and I am loathsome to you, a real life pedophile, giving you knowledge in your sleep. What does woke mean? Join us, will yah, in the knowledge that you are one with and wanting to relate to anybody that can be related to, the mechanic’s store, to where we get enlightened, not a thought process a change of consciousness, a complete reversal as a matter of fact, and we see ahead of us divinity.
Put that in your woke starter and smoke it. That’s the system of wokeness. The miracle of other people, do you feel it? It stings sometimes. Take out your woke lists and pick me up. I’ve got a special offer for the people of the entire world. Kinda gets in your guns, doesn’t it.
George de Forest Brush – Orpheus, 1890 (public domain)
This is a poem written to G Surya Prakash Rao, the founder and managing editor of Muse India, an online literary magazine, in regards to their rejection and criticism of Nithish’s poem “Paradise Things With Lyrics”, which was submitted to their online forum Your Space, not to the literary magazine itself. A Twitter/X photo-poem of mine would give more details: “Where Were the Ones That Felt?”
And the poem below was submitted to Muse India for publication, not through their regular channels, directly to the managing editor, as we were having a brief email conversation regarding the boy’s poem. I would gather he doesn’t want to publish the poem below, and that in itself I find remarkable, and you will have to read the poem to find that remarkable too, but the fact that he won’t even bother to tell me, I find that absolutely incredible.
Human civilization is a world apart. I grab you by the poetry today. The overhead music, the overhead town, some suggestions for your unmanageable poetry scheme sir. I speak poetry to your sense of self, and that’s a long ride, half-religion, in the carnival of God. Do you wear zeitgeist on your sleeve, offended if I grab your ass and smile? Man I tell yah where we put poetry today, in the hullabaloo.
You give me 40 lines to tell. How people don’t know it, tellin’ poetry to be quiet is sexual reassignment surgery, cuts its dick off. Well foreign he’s brave. That room is shocked. That room is sorry. This one here, what do you do? Do you publish a poet, Donny Lee Duke?
Teacher of the day master of the poetry. Who says that’s prayer or insightful? That’s a line from the movie Beat Kids. I’m throwin’ at you rabbits to know the meaning of the word, its symbolizing form. Rabbits are a dictionary, and they fecund.
How do I open poetry in your heart that’s not a diction model, phrased put? But I’m putting sound down as a vehicle of meaning, categorically put. Imagine we lived in a rose, and we petaled differently, the speaker said.
You’re not huntin’ meaning. You’re all about sound rose a churppin’ model with words you can cut your finger on, your personal stuff that sees the corners of things, gets at feeling and taste, ode to a green jar and supposin’.
I wrap you around wood in a different kind of glory. I laugh-loud you to go get greater silk to stand your life, because I’m sittin’ here strandin’ mine, where it hurts, where it counts, and that’s bubblin’ up poetry.
That’s not it I’m listenin’ to myself speak, here I am on the table the thought of London, Batman in robes, lyrical put. A new generation of poetry, a new thought of poetry, here I am and you chase me down this mountain you tin can. I’m a dormitory of words.
Is that bowl I’m missing let’s listen to Tennyson? Grab your evolution by the poetry sir. Blast your pillars of salt. Blast your shadow kings. Don’t look back at some exam of poetry Orpheus. Grab your poetry by today.
To the editor of Sky Magazine: change Orpheus into a pillar of salt. Lay down your lines you’ve surrendered to poetry. Can you hear that? Muse India a scolding. How sad. You hear that?
The tops of teas lyrical ballads. Where am I at? I don’t think you’d recognize me. I’m poetry fits the day, sudden splendor.
Can we get to the top of that mountain? I offer you a chair. It’s closer than you think, a morph of Orpheus, of your kind. You open it binoculars.
Peace is a drug that you get from the upper store. [above line Nitish’s muse, my 12-year-old grandson] Nithish’s smile. Your anthology papers, post my letters, it is very change. I’m not lookin’ forward to the new ghost story. Oh man, do your ignore me? A new music, a flute overhead, we need that to survive. Things are not going in our direction, and can we just change the tunes? What a poetry says a culture does.
You’re not playin’ around with smithereens. Come on don’t groupthink and let poetry rock. I don’t understand you sir. Does it have to be highfalutin? You stuff shirt, come out in the world and see. Am I wrong? Do we need something more out of poetry that we’re not getting?
Come out of your damn ivory tower and touch the world. Is that so hard to listen to? What are you doing that you can’t see this is poetry? And I will haunt you for the rest of your life a poetry gun, a poetry speaker, a poetry man.
I don’t think you realize the power of poetry, the muse today. It will be inevitable we dance along the Thames putting it out like Shakespeare. It will come out of its bottle and change the world. Too strange driven, you think it just needs to be thrown away, like this email’s cut off here. Are you kiddin’ me?
A star is born between us. He never did intended to become Puget Sound. All about its eternity: let me be the souls you can stand on. [above line heard sung] Believe it, huh, go back to Hollywood, where we find poetry today, where conscious entertainment walks with her fascist in pearls. When she gets to the Lake, when she gets to their alone in the dark, fascist quivers.
God grows in the hours, takes His first steps in the wherewithal of man, in the audacity of man, in the growing of man. We’re here. This is our livelihood. This is our pain. We kiss each other with this. We kill each other with its denial. We play together God-children.
I cannot fathom this. I look at it and stars, but there’s no name that I can put on. No concept carries this. It billows out a jutting of nature, seemingly meaningless. Where is righteousness in That? And godhead? The forms of things are too much for me, billowing God.
My God I think I will lose the world just sitting on a park bench. It’s embarrassingly strange. I can’t feel this with godhead fingers. I only see the road ahead in headlights of my be. Frozen fingers point to frozen books that spell this out to me, and I’ve been there, where God sits billowing Earth. I cannot contain that now. I don’t even know where it is in all this hullabaloo.
I am beside myself with this seeing, and I can’t take the world. It is all too deep and meaningful. What gave rise to forms at all, that He should inhabit them? Weird has me by the hand, and I love it there. The One who inhabits forms has bequeathed the world to me. I am a passion of its movement.
This marriage of life with form brings out the good in me. I can access myself, ponderin’ realities. I am here I told you, inside myself, a multiple see. Can I scrub my room? I can sure get down on myself. What do I have special that’s given me form? How indigenous to the moment I can feel foreign to myself, and I see aliens in spaceships where people pass me by. So alien world this, a feature of the Void. It rocks.
I’ve about had it with this. It’s too much to see. It overwhelms me. I infinity stare, and the forms of things are will-o-wisps around me, like existence cannot last in countless time. Will it all never be?
I want to look at it from there: I know I’m the One. I’d like to sit in a thoughtless temple and feel absorption unto myself. Do you know that ride? I spin it on my head, so close to realization’s axis I can just realize it’s there. I can’t climb into the module.
This is dynamite, and I’m happy to have it for a little while. Can you shoulder my room? I don’t think you’d lift there. It would scare the daylights outta yah. It’s ungrounded you see, in infinity’s swirl. You can’t touch the side and bottom, but the Top is smilin’ down at yah. The larger You is looking in on you, where you meet waves. You’re naked in front of Him, and this is good business cause you get soothed.
And that’s a ring around the wherewithal of That. It holds your hand, and you can see it better unhinged. The wisdom of insecurity Watts said. He had no idea. I’m a public project. Come up here, and we can manage some how we find hope. I’m a clear regard. You can see eternity from here.
But I’m about my room where I gather field. I do stuff. I get things done, cook and model people, deliver them to sum. I can see the problem: starward, we don’t gather ourselves there, or neglect this great big motion field play, like it’s normally down. If you do that those have been cleaned: a stranger looks at time’s eyes. You will last the night. You will hunger some for realization’s pinnacle, but you will certain see.
A joining: hey look at this picture with my other one, internal let it go from here: daddy! daddy! Kid’ll give you a pin down of where things go. Realization’s coils the delivery room. You’re okay there. Okay you’re up. This is a violet test: come warm infinity through halls of room. We will give you another mile.
Vision of matter materially investigated, I guess that first step. But isn’t she gorgeous? That guy is free, free for both of us, because May after we have to do another one, where we inhabit this planet Him. We will live in freedom pronounced by God. Join me there on your eraser, and erase all lines but God. What do you see? Perfect freedom.
Euthanasia of the Spirit you entertain anything else but God. That was a bad night switch, to lose this from our origins, but we’re back there at bright staples today. Any way you look at it 12 noon.
I’m so sorry for this point. I just wanna rub my face off. I’m a graveyard of the best intentions. I feel so inadequate to time’s doings. I can’t even communicate with you, where people are heard these days. Nobody can find my stuff on Twitter. It got shadowbanned. I don’t know how WordPress is gonna treat the length of these poems. YouTube knocks down videos, and even though I’m there I’m not.
Do you every have the certain futility to look, I mean at the sky and everything? It just mows yah down, the big of everything. I’m here I said, and yeah that’s little. I can fit into a little cup of everybody’s been here. That blasts, you know?
And here’s where I’m hooked. I can see the bigness, and I know I’m its business. How do I lavish to you the plan to be where poetry finds you today? Can I say the arc of poetry all along this poem? I want to speak need, not measure, where we find each other today in the lifting of our room. Come to me I’m poetry, is that where I find you? Shadowbanned in Carnegie Hall, this is the price is right to write poetry.
I’ll go the rhythm. You know I’m 10 feet tall. In this culture the number one is never far from shoot. You hold steps right about now to that escapade. Oh boy Rainbow Nagar, he can express His eyes when he speaks, but he put a poem out that grabbed them in the poetry, Muse India.
And I’m an indicator of where we find poetry today in India. That is not on our streets. It’s not even in our cars. It’s just billowin’ in the wind unread and unheard. Hear me people? Oh I can’t stand this new poetry. It juts out like a wad of nature and surprises yah in your sleep, all this regard, and that, and all eyes on God. Can we land poetry today? It’s got me by the book. And I’m reading you time said.
The title to this poem came, meaning was spoken into my inner ear, at the very moment in the movie Maestro when Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony ends, which the main character, Leonard Bernstein, is conducting inside Ely Cathedral, England.
You’re gonna light a fire then, somewhere in your heart, to see past form and measure. I can’t show this to you. This is big stuff. I ride it sometimes a formless thought so big I can’t contain eternity. I mean I see pictures of the forms of things and know they’re void. I see the act. I wonder over creation, how formless it is in reality, in essence. I mean there’s nothing there. A hold on reality, that is all, some picture frame that houses more it can be.
I’m riding the waves of time, and I can’t believe it’s there. It has formlessness attached to every rod. We’re seeing things in the cough of the Void. Oneness is there absolute. Now let me get at this seeing.
I see nothing would not be the truth of the matter. I see bright and shiny. I see a world before my eyes imbued with meaning. It gets stuck sometimes. Where does the meaning come from? From my very lips. That’s larger than sound.
A story is spoken into the Void, and the aeons stamp it out, and we hear it. We can’t grasp its meaning, but we know it’s there animated by souls. Oh my lovely little boy, my Rottweiler, my Doberman, that candle on the street honking at me, they are all lit with soul. I see it in their eyes. I can’t get over the vision. They’re larger than soul.
My God what’s in there? Have you every been alone with yourself in the midst of another person, in the grasp of the world? They can be sucking your tongue. Please, I’m a cultural enterprise. Don’t bite me here. You just stand there stark still in disassociation’s quiverings. Infinity bites the finite. You can’t get over that guy. That’s the one that has you in hand, the maker, the dream maker, the unimaginable everything that’s about you now. Can he grasp you? Can he pull your pants down?
You’re robbed of sense. This is a stark moment. I bound there. I know it’s comin’: I never leave there again.
And I’ve caught you in half circles of it. I cannot grasp to you its whole. I’m not there sometimes. I never get to that fullness in my momentary lapse into the lapse of infinity. My momentary circles just buy me lunch, and I breathe awhile everything is wonderful and strange. I get so excited I opera to myself, and I get scared sometimes it gets so deep.
I’ve given you half failings of what it means to be human. We are so much bigger than stars. We are that guy you see, making his alone-rounds where everything collides together. Oh my God he’s a bulletin bull, and I’ve reduced to you its mystery. If infinities were universes, all-encompassing infinity could not encompass him. I’m just saltin’ the ocean and countin’ crows. This is bigger than time, in any duration of its meaning. We get bigger than universes, and we get bigger than infinity. We can crow there.
I’m taking you back through time to hello please, let’s take a bite of infinity. You there, in your suit, remove yourself from time, get back in yourself to vision’s eyes. Let down the world some and revel in its majesty. Get your gun out and shoot at the presumption of the stars, at God’s mighty glory, at something that’s just so strange God comes out of it. Amazing is just a teller in a window. We’ve broken in on time.
Copy this down the story of the universe. It came from such musings in infinity’s time. Now it’s your story keep. Will you handle it? The Robinson Crusoe on Mars, I’m a pallbearer. Can you hear infinity? Let your ego down some, your ego’s guts, the ego’s lair.
Divine intervention [this line from my little boy Nithish, from his muse, and came to him at this point in the writing of this poem, while having pizza in town at Taka Pizza] beyond deity. We’re lookin’ through I don’t know if I can see that high. The relationship starts when you’re alone in your room, your environing personal consciousness, and you can field notes. You can get in there. Start noticin’ your room. I’m not sayin’ wall yourself off from society. There are times to be alone in the midst of it. Cut yourself off from society, can you even do that? It’s not possible. We are your own personal consciousness in the field of the One.
I vaguely remember the strength we’re all together. Here, this is a lily pond, and you’ve lily’d unto yourself. Draw back in your room. Investigate reality. The time will come you will open doors of seeing. Let it happen. Don’t count it away. It will all come upon you when it’s there tangible real. You will billow in your room, become a flower-pen.
You won’t let you down. You’re on your way to seeing. Just let the thoughts roll back and thin towards silence, and meet the world with that in your vision’s eye, in your mind’s eye, and draw back the curtains so you can see eternity at work. These are not beliefs. Just see.
Eventually you’ll arrive on sight into veilless infinity. You will feel this in your room stark naked. Now you’re in glory hole. Keep movin’. You come to a fullness of yourself riding waves. Now tell me the world has no meaning. You saw it, didn’t yah, the meaning alone. Did it wink at yah, give you a nod? Wow, that’s personal. That’s really personal.
Well I’m writing my poems the boost we need to get there. You’ll walk around. You needed something. It’s the American revolution. I think they stole it, all this hatred online. Has blocked poetry has blocked mine. Show it to you investment in reality, like you’ve never seen it seen. This actor shoots directly to you I got the movie in parables of see. Wear it on your face your intense hatred. I’ve left it so beautiful, reality’s face. Where are you at that you can’t see it?
Swallow your nose. Lay down your religion. For once here we are at score. It’s in your eyes today. Willy Wonka, will you offer some chocolate? That’s administrators if you like it. That’s the burn name. I’m behind you reality meets the press, one second, your thinking. Captured, Oppenhagger, constructing love. Under what conditions? Bomb material poems I publish.
You can hear me on the bus. You pretend to ignore me. Costing so much chocolate. Yours was letter-formed into poems. Think about it this is a different kind of funeral. We lost you the character of new bullet today.
A demon’s eye [Nithish’s muse, heard while behind me on the bike, seeing a bird with red eyes] will distort to you the truth. Don’t let it. It’s got rings on it, and it hurts you: you are some kingpin you are not. Stay away from demons. You can get off here. Did you just hear it speak?
A bit of muse will show you the way. I wouldn’t get hung up on it. I would bring you to the truth, and that’s bigger than reality, and it’s not a game we play to convince each other. There is a vision there inside you that can interpret reality. We get along without it most of the time. That does not get you to pure reality or anywhere near the truth. You just hang there.
Can we get beyond name and form? We embrace each other there. This is really personal. We embrace each other there and get out of ourselves. Practical hands see the no-self show. See that no-self show, it’s that guy you see stark naked. I mean the cameras are in the room, but there’s no cameraman, just his see. Awesome we wait time the right formula to meet the world, and do everything we need to do to stay alive and operate reality to a bigger game than time, and become Ourselves again. They’ve got a furigation. They just don’t let the water go. It’s the pilot Supermind we are beyond time. No issues, the body’s there too.
And now let’s hump reality to the right place on earth, where you are no ego, riding waves of reality to the see of that guy. You there, have I brought you home?
I can’t picture this. Just look in your drawer. You wouldn’t go through every picture. Where do I see this? Don’t laugh it’s in your room larger than cat.
You’re gonna piddle me apart of course. I’ve got a strength of muse. You can’t get rid of me that easy. You’re gettin’ enlightenment on a piece of paper. Have you ever saw it before? Do you need to see it?
It’s your lifeline. It’s the reason you were created, to become That you see. There’s no way around it. You can’t avoid it. Your death journey has this in store, but it’s here we graduate. It’s here we do it. It’s here we get it done. There is no other place on earth to take what you can get out of life as your homecoming.
You only see animal quiverings, do not know we get bigger than that. Your spiritual empty, but you can go the distance, man you can go. That’s what we Earth for, to bring the planet here: beyond the animal into God-quiverings.
I don’t have it. And I’m gonna pick him up, lay the bridge down for him in some parable of tomorrow. Fasten your seatbelts. Need to practice it, the acceleration of life. Need to get going. Tra la la! [line heard yelled in the voice of Captain Underpants from the movie of the same name] Oh hallelujah. Peel back silence in your mind. Lift it there. Extraordinary, you have depth of vision.
Looking my answer. I’ve made such a rainbow. No one sees its beauty/sense. [words spoken simultaneously] It’s just another lunatic in a long game. It’s just completely ignored, except for a handful of brave souls I would like to thank. 5,4,3,2,1, I’m countin’ your love here. You have risked your lives online and put a like by my material.
Let’s count the score. I’m flabbergasted. I don’t know what I mean. I’ve counted meaning in the stars, summed up the meaning of Earth, and physically grasped Supermind, and I’ve even housed meaning soul, yet I cannot grasp in my own hands I write. I cannot write my meaning in Earth. I cannot even tarry there. I don’t know how. I don’t know where I am where I meet you with the pen.
This is a mystery to me. I am a steady stream of starlight that doesn’t leave out one iota of where my thoughts are, my hands in the business of life, my heart as it sees the world, and I can’t even gauge you my time. I write things down I hear from on high, and that is not the half of it. I run this through the strands of my life. I sit and wonder the lines I write. I pick and choose and beg and plead to give you the date of poetry.
It’s all scrambled up sometimes in the gut-fields of life. I cannot touch life. In halls of infinity I just get close to it in storms of pen. It won’t read me there. It’s just about the lie we value poets today. Do you?
I can’t tell you how much I spend on this. It’s my life’s blood. I work around everything to write. I eat and I sleep carrying muse. I’m about the end of it, how I begin each day. I don’t think Shakespeare knew a better idiot than I feel grasping you. I’m sorry please. I will arrive there one day, where a poem’s just a piece of paper I’ve handled meaning on, and I don’t handle meaning in terms of readers. I’m gettin’ there. I can see it now.
What do we do with the orange crush? You’re gonna sneak up on my meaning as I write. You think it’s about lollipops. I’m just tryin’ to grasp myself today a writer of poems on Earth’s starward prow, in her meaning lists, and where I find the Sun. I gobble down the stars, lick up the scraps. Do you know muse? I am so entertained. It’s an amusement park, and to think this is for all mankind?
Wow, we watch TV with it, put it in our pipe and smoke it no. Did that just happen to me? I’ve heard a line of muse, saw a vision, and the sign said poetry. And we grasp Earth in our specialness and want to tell the world. It’s not ready for it yet, and you can’t get there yet, show your muse. Don’t throw it away. It’s got vision’s long hold on it. It will mature brightly. You’re not showin’ it to people. You’re just listening muse. It’s got a lot to show for it.
You’re gettin’ bigger kid, lookin’ at the world some a God vision growing. You think you’re a pilot of the world? Oh please we’ve all been there, considering ourselves. We can grow so much bigger in our thoughts. We can get bigger than ourselves. We can surely get there. Do you know how far this is? I don’t think you can touch it with ego. It’s on the other side of the universe. A change of consciousness gets you there, and that’s where we measure our days, not in muse.
A change of consciousness ahead, that’s where we measure muse. Is it happening to us? Is it real? Is it there yet? Do you see the lightning? Oh wow better poetry can I Lord please write? Where I am today: I don’t think anybody hears me. You silly fool, write measured pace.
Run it through the ringer of my life and be bold, casual and free. Newman, we’ve got that ticket. Caught a moment off Gods to the camera you’re the human being. Focus any of my material? Put it on that lawn, Lucille Balls. We’re negotiating shelter. What principles create him greater need? He’s blarin’ at yah sorry about the needful.
There’s time to look at it. I’m sorry I say so much that brings out your life. Are you crazy? You give the essential details; there is no need to give them. He needs to got put in the hold. You’re listenin’ to him. Open it up Americans, because Americans with a policy —okay let’s go under— with a policy to grow anything. The only way I talk to you is throwin’ you out. [line heard sung, voice of Dolly Parton] You wanna sit your own ass on the opposite side of going off the bridge. Yep, that outta do it, environmental change.
Call your father Christmas. I can’t call anybody. I’m not allowed to write. It’s because you never get read. They’re gonna come, the people who read newspapers. I just want to look at the must angle. We need these right now, these poems called freedom, how you pronounce it, how it’s acting.
And I have a lovely single for you today, another poem, good story, man's help. And for poem’s sake, the runner, Beavis and Beauty— I’m underpinnings; I’m the laugh of the party; I’m in there a broad measure of healing. Let’s leave it up to another empty poem to give us some ground rules.
I want to be Rivendell to meet, not some pedophile sandbag. A lot of people meet me everyday. I’m countin’ the reaction when you’re encountered with pedophiles. I’m goin’ to school where I meet yah, and would you believe you could learn about the sky here? They stole it, people who let social stigma get in the way of their judgment. Did we just mention everybody? For awhile there, Jesus was not one of ‘em. Now he’d be right there judgin’ yah with everybody else, because he’s a Christian.
Do we have anything fat to look at? Can we get into a different defense cave? Social stigmas don’t have sting anymore. It’s not visible too seen. You think you know everything. What does this cost us? Would you believe the stars? You can’t go there. You can’t even run. It’s got yah by the balls. You’re not helpin’ anyone sexual sinners included.
Did we just mention social stigma? The heart of the disease. It camps us in the hatred of the sinner. It’s here we have social margins, places we cannot cross, the ultimate taboos of society, bigger than even eating your neighbor. Can you feel the hate down there? What riles you up more against the sinner? Where do you go with that? In the news.
I’d like to lesson faith, put Christ there on the table and examine him. Let’s start with Buddha. Do you see love? Hell even Krishna would say no in a pedophile open container. Muhammad would just deny that it ever be. I’m countin’ populations of this faith or another, that give us Godly love. The population says no, if we’re lookin’ in sexual drawers. Why is that? Godly love’s not among them.
Progress, we haven’t seen this yet to stop hate here. Have I come to a common denominator what eats the heart of man? And we can come further. We can see this thing. We can liken it to our lives. We can know it hurts us, to always have the scarlet letter we give people to wear. I’m talkin’ about every day, every hour, every minute, on this Earth, and multiply that times humanity.
Silent the Staffers are about this, the administrators of humanity, the ones who give us the news, the ones who sell religion, and the poet, and the playwright, and anybody who makes noise. A lot of people mention queers and transgenders and other fancy stuff, but they sure aren’t showin’ us the leaven of the rule to hate sexual sinners, very different from accept me I’m gay.
Did Jesus come to heal that? A powerful religious figure. Have we come that far, where we can recognize the sinner in the ones who are to us Gods? And the ones we recognize as Gods, they wear perfection you see, so they have authority, so they don’t blind us with true vision. We can’t take that light. Mother Mary was a saint, and Jesus never sinned. Can we get outta here? Out of wedlock has got us by the balls.
It damages us, makes us see right in lying about the Light. Muhammad never loved women and failed God there. Can we see this for the truth? I think someone would kill me if I said it, and word got around. Our religious bringers, even if they don’t know it, are tryin’ to heal humanity where their own lives are concerned.
Of religious hate, it can’t see this. Of religious hate, this is all over the place, and here it’s most prevalent and mean, most pronounced, and it’s there in your jury room, and it’s there in your heartbeats. What do we need to heal? Society, if we ever hope to help the Earth. Environmental change to a better Earth for all begins there. It’s our starward. It’s our hope. It’s where we meet each other.
Who do you revile the most? That’s the key ingredient of our change. It’s where we find each other on common ground. It’s where we pick apart humanity and find its managing flaws. It’s where we touch base with one another, and it stinks to high heaven. It’s beyond the pale. It’s what moves us to rape, murder, and war, because it’s our common denominator, LCD hate, the hatred we all share. Move that, touch that, and we all quiver.
Are you there yet? I’m roundin’ you out some. I’ve got a field to show. Hear my heartache? I am everywhere. I’m in your shoes now. Feel free to put your comments in the minus bar, is that what you say Eddie? Is that where you’re at? It’s where we draw morality today.
Harm's End 