Deepenings

photo by Donny

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.

The Fate You’re Said Desperate Need

“Beavis and Beauty” by the author
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.

Can I count that?
You must love humanity
more than your own lives,
or you feel so strongly
about what’s to do right,
you will put that before your very selves.
Where do I put you?
Go down my like columns and see.
KK, lunaiswriting, DirtySiFiBuddha, The Emotional Pixel, QuanTouch, B Gourley, Tony Self, Notes & Silence, Frank Solanki, Narayan Kaudinya, Elena, Lorene M., Bogdan Dragos,
and you others,
I don’t know what to say.
Thank you.

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.

Ruptured the Dynamism

photo by the author
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.

The Valley of the Lord

Photo by Douglas
Master of a small craft,
we inland seas.
Our body is our Temple Mount,
and we plus it with reality.
We put it there to show.
How expertly we ride that thing.
We got it down.
It knows us,
bruises to our failings,
and it won’t shut up,
if we simply tell it to shut up.
What’s goin’ on?

Is Spirit realm available? [This line Nithish’s muse, who’s laying beside me listening too]
Why are we so tight in there?
Why can’t we express ourselves?
Well, this poem is about thank you.
It works so well,
and the browser still with the Lord.
I think I’ve got your attention.

Not to the world,
not to the process of the world,
have I threatened a place among them,
pedophiles of the world
who molest children.

Have this money in the bank:
notes on put them in evenings,
the body’s troubles to put on its craft for the day.
We cater to it.
We don’t meet its needs.
We stand around and tell it
it don’t meet our needs.
We are heavily damaged by it.
I can’t do this.
It’s in pain.

I hardly doubt that.
You are not that.
You are here to show you be had.
The body is its own big business.
It grasps us you see,
spends us on its movements,
makes us do its call.
We can get around this.
We can learn ourselves,
have the body an ocean that expresses our Spirit.
We don’t let it rule us,
but we meet it on its boards
in proper time,
and is our heating
that causes death?
I’ll hear you later.

How do we spend it rightly?
If you notice the whole damn world’s doin’ it:
ah, and it’s president of you are safe.
You were sleazy.
You reach up and home lice.
I talked to a talk show host.
He’s when you fail.

And you think you’ve completed your list?
The Lord figures you know nothing of dogs, field, and snow—
infinancy.
You knew why I was asking.
You wanna know just like they are.
The body’s its own mechanism.
It has a lord sheep.
It calls its own name.
It can’t figure out itself,
but it’s wonderfully aligned
with the principle of its keep,
and that is an ocean of soul.

It can climb mountains,
earn God in every way.
It can be aligned with the stars
and become a God-moon.
It can harbor divinity
and last hundreds of years.
It’s evolving into this type
the human body.
Even now there are whispers on its tops
of this great change,
and it can listen down below
to an exceed itself.

We put it on today
unawares of its capacity,
ignorant of its morn,
and we don’t know its origin
and treat it like a deft machine.
It can cast awake
and throw illness from itself,
do away with pain,
and object to the roads of accident,
and deformity and defect
can be gotten rid of
when we learn the ways of seed
and follow the body’s own plan
to begin with.

We can stretch it long through the days
and make it hum and sing
and field variety.
It’s in our voice today.
We don’t know how to keep it there
so it becomes a living thing.
Certainly soup helps.
I’m welcome here—
exercise talking.
But do you know what?
It’s all in the head,
a directed attitude,
a determined faith,
a will applied pressure,
on the body’s substance,
on its lair,
its locations of control,
that brings us to this door.
Inside that door
is monumental change.

You don’t know the Blue Book,
and I’m helpin’ you along,
and I am very happy to.
I am one of them:
my manhood is Earth.
Humanity
this must be our star,
a delivery
to the very nature of Earth,
bear with me,
when we rise to Supermind,
in that distant of our days.
Glory to the world
the Lord has come. [This and preceding line heard sung by a choir, tune “Joy to the World”]
And matter reveals its hidden divinity.

Where do we find the door?
Where do we go from here?
Even in halls of self-control
we are cramped by the body.
It’s loud in there.
Where do we release it to itself,
and it answers nature rightly?
Can it joy to itself?
How high do I go
to land this in the body?
I’m just a moment’s sunlight.
Do I always forego pleasure
for your sake my Lord?
Is it always so dry?
Here we are in the well,
and enlightenment’s satisfaction has not reached us.
What do we do?

And it is here we must lift Earth.
Can you believe sacrifice?
It is transposed upon the world
and becomes the day.
One man’s sacrifice can still bring the dawn.
I can get no tighter than that.
I can hear no message clearer.
It’s where I am,
and it’s what you hear today.
We make our body safe.
We don’t harm the Earth with it,
and we don’t harm our little ones with it,
especially our little ones.
That dog has boy eyes don’t you see,
that cat little girl paws.
Oh my sweet blue Earth,
are you hearin’ me?
Oh my smilin’ green Earth,
listen please.

That’s the nature of reality,
we stay the way for our children.
We stay the way for love.
We go the distance,
and we go to God.
Did you hear me Israel?
Listen, I’m sure if you steal,
it will turn our rooms into a disaster area.
It will end up affecting us all.

The Availability of Stars

photo by the author
Now pedophilia,
that’s the most indistinct thing there.
You are taken
this close.
And I just hang there.
I have nothing to show for it.
You’re in a square seat
behind holes of reality.
You’ve got the best seat on earth,
larger than mankind.
You don’t bow to no one.
You’re really there.
You’re the right person
to handle the Word.
You are Our go man.
You are not some blind wall.
We listen to you.
It’s a conscious place in there.
You feel the world.
You feel in there.

The dawn of a new age
between icebergs.
We can’t let the stories out.
Regal and important,
they show us our under wares.
We can’t see them
because the gatekeeper says no.
They move us,
give us another time,
tranquille.
We can’t find the time to read them.

A Green Beret,
I parachuted into Germany with an atom bomb.
No, Luna puppy,
I’ve jumped out of Mars.
I’d love to tell yah the story.
One single incident
would be almost big enough,
but I’ve landed Silent Mind.
On the approach
to return to this land.
It makes gold for good seeing.

Memorable wares,
I’ve put poems on mountaintops,
in the station of Mount Sinai
and on the 14 Stations of the Cross
in Old Jerusalem.
I put “The Last Man on Earth”
in the sarcophagus of the Great Pyramid in Egypt.
A few people saw me do it.
It wasn’t a landslide.

I travelled the world a vagabond pilgrim
in the early days of the net
and did not record it there,
for years.
Country to country saw me soup,
and I gathered myself there.
In one tall swoop,
long before I left Houston,
a Classical Greek scholar I was,
I became the person I am presiding over all these lives.
I became my Godself on high.
I mean I went up there
long enough to know Who I am.
That started my life.
I was born in that moment
as one who stretches the Earth.

What a thing to say
if you’re just some yahoo,
even with all the trailers
this poem has shown you.
Can you hear them?
I’m not dyin’ in my lunch.
I’m a livin’ breathin’ testament
of I have lived sir,
man I have lived ma’am.
Can you see that way?
Do you even care?
X-men have got you by the heart,
and the Avengers have blinded you,
story after story of savin’ the world,
and the human can’t even get there.
We bleed our stories
so they make Earth pretend,
so they grasp the wrong value,
so they tattletale in our arms.

Can we find our soul?
Would you believe it’s not a person?
And it’s not our stars.
It’s an ocean down a deep well
that you can find if you get there
falling sleep.
I took my conscious that far,
falling,
over several days of exploration,
and I found my soul.
Are you on the move?
And you think you’re only on the outside
travelin’?

Who’s cleaning this mess up?
My goodness guy.
And we’ve met the soul watch.
Our personhood has launched it
to develop life.
That’s why it’s here.
When you find it you activate that,
and it cleans up messes,
and it’s inevitable you rise
a soul see.
I’ve grounded that,
and I turn the tables on you.
I don’t think you’ve found that ocean yet.

And I have found the stars
where I sit,
and I have found the Earth where I sit.
The soul has brought me here.
It’s larger than mountains,
more infinity than space,
and that’s our standin’ ground.
It’s all over the place.
It’s in this room right now
greater see.

I’m here to show you the real.
I entered this world a pedophile,
and all you’ve heard
has been my means to change.
I could not just be a normal citizen,
not in my brood,
not where my society reach romantic heart,
not in my roving center
where I attracted to the world.
You don’t understand polyp,
and you think freewill is everywhere.
I gunned this life.
I really put it on,
the role a lifetime keeper.
I am here before you today
on poet watch.
I give you the stars.
I give you the formula for change.

Will you unload that
to where the voice can see it,
the net speaker?
I’m comin’ to yah today
where we meet the Earth.
I’m not sutterin’.
I am right there.

What just happened?
I gathered the rainbow
and showed it to yah,
and showed yah who you are.
You are that God on high,
the One I described above.
It is the Maker.
It is the Shaker.
It is Who we all are
in the dynamics of deity,
and here we all are
lost in the world we have created,
foundering in the universe we began,
and we need to get there,
to our creator self,
where it meets us here.

That’s the gist of the story,
of every story on earth.
I populate it now
with facts,
with a storyline.
Understanding?
Give it all you got.

Zombies Online

photo by the author
Through the lens of the screen
we interpret reality.
This is how we get our gun.
It’s how we conduct business.
We die that way.
It’s a world in front of our face
that we miss,
we need to listen to.
What’s reality goin’ on around us?
It swallows the moon.

We’re just stale, happy, TVs in the room.
It jogs us.
It casts us aside.
We come to our computer to participate,
or put our cellphone between us and the world.
Does that make TV better?
We market our lives
sittin’ in front of a screen,
and it can be so tiny.
It’s not there you know.
You are.

We translate screens all day,
and we don’t know their rash.
It doesn’t solidify us.
We just get all choked up
on a reality ration card.
We think it excites us.
This does us in.
Get your notebook
and interpret reality with that.
Record your inner life.
Your outer life will still be there when you get back.
Those events jingle.
You can feel them with your hand.
They are real to you,
and they’re awesome.

They seem boring to you
because they step on the ordinary.
They have miracle all over them,
if you know how to look,
and do you know the world draws nigh to you when you do?
You see things
that are extraordinary,
synchronicities between thought and life
that you know somebody’s lookin’ at yah
the universe can’t hold.
These are certain stairs,
and you reach a height at noon
that reveals to you God.

You can’t see this on the screen.
It’s too confined in there.
It doesn’t have reality’s picture on it
that blankets you with stars.
It’s not where you’re at.
Oh you can move between thought and the screen
like you live there
all grown up.
You can ride lightning’s ways.
You can figure out the world
in the emptiness of its room.
You can sit and enjoy yourself.
You cannot hold hands with God.

I’m showin’ you this on TV,
and you just dyin’ to practice it in the real world, ain’t yah?
You want to see God.
You want to see thoughts larger than man.
I’m tellin’ yah they’re there
in the dry, material world.
I’ve picked up a book
and opened the pages of reality with it.
That’s my own damn TV,
where I sit in reality and wait
for the next full moon.

I sound good to your reason-sense,
but you don’t know what I’m talkin’ about.
It’s green there.
It’s got flexible and still on it,
and it’s a whole wide afternoon,
or a mornin’ that bakes bread in reality’s oven;
an evening there whispers to the stars.
You can’t get that look
onscreen.
It’s not tangible, real.
It tries to trouble you,
get you to play basketball
on digital courts.
You are mad at me no?

Let’s blame the room.
We don’t know how to put it right.
It just bleeds us
to make our reality all fucked up.
We have digitalized each other,
and this is worms.
We’re not even real people inside the machine.
We got lollipops on
we want other people to lick.
See me there?

Where does poetry go inside the machine?
It changes its meaning.
I’m starin’ at you now,
wonderin’ how many hits I get
singin’ in a dark tunnel.
Would you meet me there?
Would we get out of the machine?
I think we would find somewhere
to be humans again
not under computer programs
and not onscreen lives.

I do stay long
I do stay up here
in the companion of see.
My day’s because of it.
My time online are my thoughts
I’m tryin’ to have me killed for.
I’m not the only one
puttin’ you in touch with yourself
with my reality TV
Episode Donny.

We’ll say I was parkin’ and I saw a Muslim guy stare at me intently,
would you believe this is page one?
I’ve gotta get yah outta here.
So I turn the world upside down in your ideas,
act strange
with the written word.
Can you see me happy?
That’s most of my flower.
Now I’ll see where we’re at.
I’m not hatin’ anybody.
I’m lookin’ to end hate
so you won’t hate me.
That’s a noble enterprise.

Left the school
of bang your head against the wall,
of put out your left eye,
and so for nothing less
the reality’s keeps,
and if you see an American Jewish woman walkin’ down the street,
you wouldn’t war with Israel.
Know whadda I mean?

Wow, I think I’m healthy for the next line:
we are all one family.
We do business together that way,
on and offline.
He’s gonna put it in a bank watch this.
Why don’t you just leave it here?
Goddamnit,
could you put a photo at the top of the page
that is really, truly there because you like me?
And you enjoy your meal,
Ocean’s Eleven,
and there you have it.

How many realities of life are there?
A Boeing 747 in each one.
It’s on a fascinating, fascinating mountain not far from here.
Okay.
It’s in this poem.
Let’s go get some sleep
after the intro.
That’s not how about you rule things.
Your consciousness is up there.
I have trouble accessing it,
you are the poem.
I reckon then go,
go where your prime takes yah.
It’s right there
beyond the screen.


You just can’t do it.
What about an online pass?
We breed poems,
and I talk about accessibility.
It has that special sauce
when you’re committed to a short story a movie a play.
You don’t frontal lobe it.
You’d like to know
that word.
You thought you thought ahey? [line heard sung]
Leave me alone.
Alright be quiet.
I’ve gone back to being somebody’s poem on the internet.

It’s to help you open the world.
I’ve almost gotten you this evening.
Yes I’m quitting.
I put more butter
in my reality’s screen
to get out of the ego’s refusal to its environment.
Rest assured,
I just want God there
the vision I have always.

A quiet you find yourself in,
a silence that can see the stars,
these are the momentary hush
that come together to you for reality,
that grasp tangible God.
These are the momentary links
that give you all the nature of man.
Wind with me
to that summit.
I arrive there
the quiet in your room.
Lift with me
a moment tangible God.

The Transgender Wars

photo by the author
The body of trans auto-mania
piss you off.
It’s just super cool
to take your gender off.
They suffer for this.
I am a man goddamn it,
and here my body’s female.
I can’t grab my own balls.
I don’t know what to do with myself.
I’m ugly in the mirror.
I don’t fit.
This hurts.
It’s all I can see.
I live with this
everyday.
I can’t surmount it.
It’s got me by the balls.

So I’m transgender,
and I have this wonderful surgery
to make me a man.
It really feels good
to take my gender off.
Low and behold I’m a man!
I’m now right with myself.
I can see the world that way.
Everything’s alright with the sun.
There’s just this little stickler in the program:
I’m still a woman.
I can’t get up in the morning
without remembering who my body was.
I kill my dead name,
and I still respond to it.

I thought I was gonna be happy,
really fulfilled.
I tell the press I am.
I’m still confused inside.
This didn’t do the trick.
It just took my face off.
I don’t know how much I regret my new situation.
I kinda like my new dick,
but this just didn’t satisfy, you know?

I’m in gender dysphoria.
I think that’s the word these days.
I can’t get over it.
Gender is a thing of the past.
It’s not biologically made.
It’s not who we are.
I decide what I’m gonna be.
Gender’s what I say I am,
and it’s fluid all damn night,
and it’s green.
I have to get my dick cut off to be happy
or make my vagina out of one,
and that is the secret formula
for wholeness and wellness of being
I’ve told myself that a million times.

It never sticks,
but you know,
it feels good to be different.
I’ve revealed myself.
I’ve taken society by the horns,
and I have said you do not determine me.
Now, where do we go with this?
I’m on the same side I was.
Happiness did not come
from the scalpel and knife.
I still suffer.
I don’t know who I am.
I don’t know out of this.
It’s not what I thought it would be,
all bliss and honeymoon.

Oh man there is a deeper life.
It’s right there at your edges.
You have so much more to you
than gender.
You are a pilot inside.
This is where you take yourself.
You’re looking for fulfillment.
You find the road ahead.
It’s got spiritual on it,
in that it’s deeper than life’s ways.
You go beyond yourself.
You get bigger than you.
There are states inside
that show you this.
It’s a consciousness change.
It brings you out of yourself.
It’s as natural and as right as rain.
It doesn’t boil you over.
It’s where you’re going with this,
your humanity.

It’s not a made-up lie.
You will find it on the inside
if you look
with open questions
and the knowledge of the seeker
who fervently knocks on doors.
It’s been lost to humanity
by and large,
translated as religion
around the world.
These are not beliefs you grow into.
Your spirituality is you,
and you get deeper every day.
The sun rise in you
it begins to dawn in you.

Now you’re sittin’ in the road
of you feel good about yourself.
It’s not fake anymore.
It’s the real McCoy.
It can’t be duplicated
by gender fuck you.
It can’t be duplicated
by a reliance on the machine.
It is so different,
who you are,
than you figured it was going to be.

Gender was not what I thought it was.
There’s a principle there masculine and feminine.
We would call them forces of nature.
It’s got a lot of glow.
It would determine society.
It would be a division we are.
We’ve been divided in two,
so our babies don’t kill each other
any more than they do.
So we have to have a plan to elope.
They have to come together,
the divided forces,
to make offspring,
and that makes us.
It was designed that way,
so we could have peach on earth
in our kitchens.

The lie is this:
you are a man,
or a woman,
and that’s that.
You are both you see.
The woman you long for,
the one you wanna be,
man in gender dysphoria,
is not about a knife,
cutting your balls off.
You be that woman inside
that’s fine.
It’s a principle you’re enhancin’,
but you still let that man glow.
You come to a balance in yourself,
express which gender suits you
in any given moment of life.
Which one you push more to the front
in that moment,
and which one lays back,
this is wholeness.
Don’t cut yourself off.

Gender dysphoria,
it’s a book.
It’s a fad.
It transpires,
but you don’t reject yourself.
You see what you are.
The confusion’s on the table.
It’s about us.
We are more than a mind in a body
in the everyday instruments we use.
We have an intermediary,
the vital, a life-body.
It’s the breath of life,
the life force in us.
It has its own consciousness,
and it pushes its desires into the mind,
its impulses into the body,
its preferences for this and that,
and it’s the death of us.

It’s like a small child,
really.
If you meet it in dream it
is a large, hairy creature
with a long neck and no head,
that just loves you to death,
like a big rub up against you dog.
It’s friendly.
It’s got its own mind.
Now here’s the trouble with man,
and we don’t even see it:
you have to get the vital in order,
if you wanna deal with life.
This was not a doctrine I performed
when I entered the Integral Yoga
that has this psychology down.
I had met my vital in dreams,
and I understood what my teachers were talking about.
Sri Aurobindo and the Mother talk about the vital a lot.

Now here you are
a man in a woman’s body,
or a woman in a man’s,
or so you think.
There are three people involved:
your vital, your mind, and your body.
They each have a gender.
Wow, how weird is that?
It’s principles they mask.
One is masculine.
One is feminine.
A combination wouldn’t mean dysphoria,
or would it?

Now, my mind is male,
and I’ve got a male body.
My vital sweetheart is feminine.
They work together you see
and form a confederacy.
I balance them.
I know myself.
Would you?

A masculine-feminine body
would have to be dealt with.
It would require surgery
in some cases.
That’s understood.
Okay we got a masculine mind and vital,
but the body’s different.
What’s removed in surgery?
Surface towels.
The body consciousness still has its gender.
It hasn’t been cut away.
It counts.
Can you see this?

How do you live with it,
a body one thing,
a mind and vital another?
That’s not a woman inside a man’s body,
or the other way around.
Your understandins’ wrong.
Give this gift to yourself:
don’t worry about society’s gender.
Take its clothes off.
You want to be you inside.
Where is that at?
A masculine-feminine lady,
or a man that’s masculine and feminine.
Do you get the picture?
Can you see what I’m sayin’?

Be okay with who you are.
That dick is yours,
that beaver.
If it’s ugly you got a problem
of self-acceptance to sort out.
You don’t have to be confused.
I think it’s society’s roles making you suffer,
the way it looks at you.
Can you be bigger than that?
Can you get out of yourself
in don’t look at gender
like it makes the world go round?

Be a man and a woman you see,
and it’s where society’s movin’,
fluid gender roles.
You open your spirituality
you’ll also become the opposite sex.
I mean if you follow your plan,
the inside spirit of things,
the movement of your soul as it walks through time,
not a practice and belief set.
Have we gotten anywhere?
To the right way of being.
Have you heard me yet?
Try.

Gender roles
don’t tell yah who you are.
The extraordinary does,
and I’m a mission to see it
more plainly than I do now.
Would you believe it?
And they call me a pedophile.
You think you’ve got it bad
in society’s ways.
Gender role fluidity,
let’s get sensitive about that,
not insults to us,
because they disagree with you.
We can’t change society
with the anger of its being.
That crushes it,
eats it alive.
We can’t change society with anger
and want it to love us.
Somehow we have to all agree
gender roles are too rigid,
and we change accordingly.
That takes love.
That takes patience,
and we won’t do it overnight.
Does anybody hear me?

We want society to change,
and that’s the school we go to,
and it’s not a military school.
And we come to the gender roles,
the wrong types of the wrong kinds of divided.
We reason this out
where rules are concerned,
and we put them aside
when need be.
Our school children can learn this
so easily,
how to a happy gender life.
Let’s start with some knowledge, will yah?
And you heard it in this poem,
all along the gender wars.
You hear me?

There’s a message
in our placement book,
where we live together life.
Do you hear it?
Let’s aim life
to that message room:
oh gender kids,
gender fluidity.
Oh no acting occurred.
There are muscles that never hurt.
There are muscles that never work.
Never wash your hands
is a single no to the system.
You just lie there and wait
for some other hand to pick you up.
Oh come on please,
you don’t know what I’m talking about?
Get it,
that two worlds isn’t political;
it’s political or die.
You’ve got that raccoon in your mouth.
It lifts good.
Now are we gender or sex?

Let’s take a look at this.
Oh my God he’s gay.
Yes Chris,
Mr. Beast is not laughing about this.
Twenty thousand
eat their dicks.
I’m gay.
It’s a guilt trip.
One second.
They don’t like the social stigma.
Is that a reason to cut off your penis?
You don’t want to be gay,
and we transgender,
like gayness is out of style.

Does it feel good
cutting your penis off?
Like months,
like nab,
yeah I’ll use nab.
We use gay against the world.
Luna!
get off that girl dog.
She’s humping her lesbian.
No even a service to me.
Look at the spell.
A Rottweiler’s blind.
She really gets after it.
What am I saying?
Please,
we would not give Luna a sex change operation because of it.
She’s my dog.

Why are we sex changing people?
And it’s just a big mess.
The social stigma of gay,
or bein’ a lesbian,
I don’t want it.
I don’t care.
I will kill you.
Wow we’ve loaded this gun.
Now let’s support them in this?
How many children are saying that?
Puberty blockers please,
I’m just homosexual.
I hate that.
I put on gender clothes.
Yeah it’s perfect.
Yeah you do.

Can we sell you something else?
You’re a man.
You will be that when you grow up,
and you’ll have these gay feelings.
Why would you want to deal with them with irreversible surgery?
And man, they say it’s better as a kid.
The change takes that way.
Hence the puberty blockers.
And we look at God again.
No sex between kids,
so cut their dicks and pussies.
Why can’t they make the decision to have sex?
They can gender confuse.
They can decide to remove their genitals.
Why aren’t they old enough to have sex?
Now a child molester touch those parts,
is that really worse than a doctor cutting them off?
I think you’re blind here.

You stigmatize people.
That helping hand,
you won’t let it out in the neighborhood.
That role competition,
can we first see we engage in it?
A girl wants to be a boy.
Why?
Boys get to do more stuff.
They’re the arm of society.
So they bleed in the wrong bathrooms,
because they have a dysphoria.
They don’t wanna be girls.
Has this anything to do with life,
a reason for choices?
You bet your sweet Bob it is.
They’re gay,
so many children who want to slice penises.
And those girls who want to be boys,
how many of them say it’s because of the muscle?
Can we look at gender dysphoria please?
Can we really look at it?

Let’s look at my hand.
And he goes out into the water,
The Fonz,
and this is trick or treat.
You’re doin’ it on ice.
You rob people of their sleep.
I think you know you’re ugly.
They’d call you a freak,
the transgender haters.
It didn’t work did it?
Just listen to your voice.
It’s a weird drum,
your larynx.
You don’t look like people who made the stars.
There’s somethin’ about you out of wack.
Can you admit it didn’t work,
your sex change operation?
It just has you glow
in an almost there.

I can’t count society’s ways.
There’s too many of ‘em.
I think it’s important to be gender.
Don’t even catch up.
I’ve watched them a million times,
‘cause it goes and knocks out one of them,
it role change his whole society.
I think it’s important to be gender related.
I’m talking about Chris,
with the power to say he’s a woman.
Is that really true?
Do we give people that right,
just be the opposite sex?
That negates society’s most structuring formula,
right now.
We haven’t gotten there yet,
a gender equal society.
We can’t force it with this change.
You’re messin’ with the roles of man,
the very terms of how we socially construct,
and that goes deep.

You change that at the drop of a hat?
Why would somebody be transphobic,
who opposes it?
Wouldn’t they just be normal
in the field of today?
Did you know that
you’re askin’ a lot of people.
You want them to accept your decision,
based on what?
These are role plays.
Now it’s just if you say so.
That’s the right being pushed.

Well that’s grand.
It doesn’t do us any good.
Okay if your vital and your mind are feminine,
and your body’s not,
I think we need to learn how to do that,
come to that conclusion.
Part of it’s inner work.
But them we wouldn’t change your sex
with plastic surgery.
We’d allow you to express yourself as a woman,
if that suited you,
or at least feminine wears.
We are still on the way to that.
So many people just want the norm.
Can you see the obstacles in your way?
Can you see all this stuff?

I don’t think there are as many of you as sort out.
A lot of you are just blind
to the role maker,
and you think you need to be reassigned.
By that I mean nature works,
in most cases.
Now are we superstar?
We can’t even get a poem across,
and this is a long one.
I can say anything you know.
I don’t get called out—
no readers.

How are things goin’?
Things seem to be happening rather fast.
It looks like social breakdown,
but that’s been always happenin’.
Oh we don’t own money.
How many of us are record holders?
How many of us are rocket holders?
The rich own this planet,
and we want them out of power.
World is not a kind thing,
and it’s beginning to self-destruct
there are so many of us.
We aggravate that.
Now you can go right to the hammer
and get under it,
or you can lay out the change,
one poem at a time,
to keep this planet off roller coasters,
to make sure we survive.

America especially but in the West,
transgender has come to mean offend.
It’s where we can see over-sensitive,
in its full play.
Why is that?
People aren’t secure in their decisions.
Well another poem
underway.
See that it gets to rocket science, will yah?

The Baby Formula

photo by Lidya
But I am provided in poems.
Put it in the baby wash.
It rules society.
I’m talkin’ military hardware.
We live with babies.
The whole universe sticks in them
we don’t see.
The openness they are can start a revolution.
They are so open
it’s crazy in there.
We just program them well.
We don’t even know we’re doin’ it.
This is ballpoint of society,
and it is here we fuck up.

They’re strangers you see.
They just lay there and fuss
or pop a smile.
They are closed to us.
We have no idea what’s goin’ on
in that baby’s consciousness.
They’ve arrived from somewhere.
Does this still glow in them?
It’s got Heaven on it,
which they slide down by degrees.
They’re a soul state.
They are empty room.
They come from far away
to land here.

They’re a Heaven’s breeze
to our notion of self.
We delight in them.

It’s all over their face
we have the power.
Oh they’re tiny lords
to our work schedule.
They make us work.
They are ever present in our garage.
They are kingpins there.
That’s the surprise.
They bake in our dreams.

We don’t know what to do with them.
They are a non-entity yet,
but we love them to death.
How do we handle baby?
A conditioning arm.
Everything we do effects them.
They haven’t managed yet
to filter out the world.
It’s all new to them,
and they rob you of your sleep.
We handle them,
and every touch matters.
We are formin’ their identity.
All their little quirks
they’ll pick up from us.
I don’t think science knows this yet:
we cast their sexual identity
in our arms.
We determine it.

The action around those genitals
will give the boy his love,
the girl her romantic feelings.
You don’t even have to touch it.
They live in a soup
of all this emotion,
and they dance on the shores of the body
your emotional fingers and hands.
Your emotional awareness and hands,
it could be you cannot see.
You only know you’re washin’ and cleanin’
and things like that.
Sometimes you kiss the life force there.
It’s a magnet for your fingers,
a draw,
and the baby feels that pull,
swims in it.
You’ve determined their sexuality,
I think the heaviest hand there.

Let’s swim in feelings you know.
We swam usually when we’re three,
and let’s pick the boy in the room.
Can we call him daddy’s little lover?
Their bond makes the fishes glow.
It has heavy all over it.
They abide awhile
each other’s lover.
This is way before memories are formed.
Maybe it was your uncle.
You don’t know.
It gets squeezed
sometimes,
that little package you got,
and his is so bright and shiny
in the shower room.
It’s a big muscle thing,
daddy’s central hat.
You’re not bein’ molested.
You’re bein’ loved on,
squarely and sweetly,
and you love it there.
It’s a special relationship,
and a gay man comes out of it,
like watch it glow.
That man builds his life around it.
We think he’s just gay.
Do we open more doors?

Give that kid an orgasm and see.
Oh my the baby bliss there.
It can make Hitlers out of men
and a mystic’s standin’ regard.
Can you be a child molester?
Depends on how you were molested.
Was it sweet and nice,
or did it throw you away?
It was so beautiful my mom said,
so amazingly sweet.
No, sex did not enter the room.
You see how blind we can be?
There was sex all over that paper,
but I love children
a million dollars worth.

And I’ve shaped babies for yah
in the frying pan,
not enough to see it whole,
just to know it’s goin’ on.
All the variety of kids we produce,
the adult they’ll be,
I haven’t glowed on.
Can you see this happening
in society?
The baby’s room,
I live there,
and I mean don’t we all?

And now I photograph,
a photograph of ourselves on Thanksgiving Day.
You really need this vision,
and that’s where we change society,
where that baby encounters the world.
This is the cutting edge of difference.
Don’t spank them don’t bleed them,
don’t turn them on.
Don’t even give them reason to cry,
unless you can’t help them that way,
and they’re in baby mood.
If they see violence or hear an argument,
their violence will ensue.
We are rose with them
when we call their name.
Can everbody get this report?
Baby’s Day Out,
you have no idea.
Baby’s Day Out,
the real McCoy.

I’ve got my microphone.

I’m puttin’ on my prejudices
to give you infancy.
It’s not all about homosexuality and gayness
or look at that pedophile.
It’s about somethin’ I can’t talk about.
It’s got lands on it
we don’t know about.
I can only show you a picture
that will help us along.
You got that Fredrick?
The baby wars,
they’re a baby,
and I call out war and disease
that land at your backdoor,
over the rainbow.

Do You Hear Me Love?

photo by the author
No one has ever seen these kinds of dosas before.
They do your head in.
I don’t think anybody listens to them.
You know how you go with filter out
when there’s too much on the page.
How can anybody listen to the net?
Alright this is a mirage,
that’s all.
He gets behind,
really frustrated with his output.
No matter what he does nobody listens.
He’s really doing what we need to hear now.
He’s just cast aside
in his margins.

Lovin’ is the first terrain we build.
Comin’ upon you now,
everything we do to hear a voice.
It’s not happenin’, is it?
We can’t get loose.
We can’t even get seen.
You can be so lonely on social media.
We’ve asked the media companies
to chop us all to pieces.
We red line our material online.
“I like it,”
says someone in charge.
“It just doesn’t get out to the public.
Should it?”

Should the sun come up tomorrow?
Should everything be grand?
Should we see the truth?
I can’t holiday this.
It’s essential reading.
We have so many poems.
A nurse on earth
we come to you in glory-ride.
You only see the smile,
not the survival manual.
Tear this up, will yah?

You don’t know how to behave
when it comes to the equity of art.
You spit on it,
if it’s too early.
You don’t see its business
if that art goes all the way to God.
You think he’s preaching to you.
You’re atheist today.
We’re a religious my God only.
You don’t have room
for all-encompassing God.
You want some well-defined art
that doesn’t blow your mind.
You wanna sell it on eBay,
whenever you need the money.
I’m beyond your lists.
I’m not just about God.
I’m about your own divinity.
Who deals with that?
Can you see it?

It wouldn’t be how we’re hung today.
We’re on the survival of the fittest machine.
We can’t over ourselves.
There’s just too much art out there
to do the actual thing.
Is that your hypotenuse?
I’m square one
the art project.
Do you know what I’m sayin’?
You just know your own story,
and it’s so comfortable to talk about.
Listen to me.

Well I’m no gift-shark.
I have something good for you.
It’s well arranged,
like it’s stealin’ your heart.
It’s got love on it.
It will help you see the day
in terms of man,
the humanity we are.
You love those papers?
I can show you how.

We need to get down to this business of love.
The 60s just sung about it.
It was a nice tune,
but we couldn’t put society together with it.
We didn’t know how.
A product of the 60s,
I have the formula.
I laid my childhood there.
Why would it die away?
Of course it’s continued.
The 60s brought us somewhere.
Here it is,
the inevitability of love.

We know we all need it.
It’s what makes us glow.
It puts society right.
It is the reason we’re here,
to love.
You doubt that?
Go punch your dog.
Tell your child they’re a worthless human being.
Love is what makes the world go around,
in our certain with each other.
People needing people,
that’s the inevitability.
Barbra Streisand we will love them.
She was ahead of her time.
I hear her now
the love she gave us all softness from.
Now I’m past 30
I’ve got that under control.
I love for the sake of love you know.

I love to do it every time
I encounter you on set.
What a minute,
what do we do with the hateful people?
Somewhere along the line love has failed them.
Do you know what a half hour means?
Give them that in your love voice,
and they’ll come around,
where you go to
make an appointment
with the high fidelity of love.
It arranges things.
It knows how to treat people.
We all love it you see;
we are all taken by it,
when it’s directed at us.
We can’t help ourselves.
It’s love.

Come down to this moment.
It’s there in the room with us,
and it’s asking us to join it
in the emergency room.
Send it to me about three weeks before;
let the Devil take tomorrow—
somebody reading the Bhagavad Gita
and only understanding the text.
Found it for the first time
in forbidden love.
I thought it was to fulfill myself.
Then I fell in love
and saw what the other person meant.
I became a child molester no longer.
I loved
in the fullness of that vision,
the love of a child
in its true form.
I got bigger
than my wants and needs.
Love was all around me.
I basked in it,
and there is no reason to give it up.
I will change the world with it
in the legacy of poems.

Come with me now.
Let’s get love on the table
and bring this world around to itself.
I’ll give you the electricity.
You give me my voice.
That’s an equal plan.
Targets,
I’ll sing right straight to yah.
There’s somethin’ else.
Watch it.
Make sure you have permission to Rambo.
Right now women
are hyper-feeling about love.
That’ll be best to put
you’re threatened
to have the suggestion right now
of sex on the table.
It doesn’t do good there
in the love that lifts our kind.
Can you get the hatred of men off the table?
You hear what I’m sayin’?
Let’s get that extra-special love
that sees love as a vehicle of peace,
the right way we treat people,
the love we give free.
Are you with me?

An app to watch this grow,
that’s my likely puzzle.
We need to found the Earth.
It’s just been on our lists yet.
We arose and that was that.
Let’s get bigger than ourselves.
Let’s outweigh the Earth:
I love you brother,
and sister,
you mean so much to me.
We do this.
Yeah I’ve got some revealed,
and we’re there kind behind it.
Can we get that far?
That’s our mandate.

No sore spot on this Earth
will do without us.
You haven’t outlived your computer
until there are no sore spots on earth.
I’m the least complicated feathers
you bring everybody off.
Ready?
My flames have been lookin’ at it all the way you one time.
[above line heard sung, by a rock group like of the 60s]
You burn for this individual,
nation or people.
You burn the Earth for them,
not with a power cord
or a destruction module.
You torch the Earth low
I told you the numbers.
You burn for them with love.
Include the pack,
it’ll be today
the Palestinians get our love.
Do it now.

Do it there,
and stop killin’ everybody.
For the sake of Gaza,
open your arms.
We’re with the Palestinians.
Give to them here,
Dr. Handshake,
in the evaluation of the poem.
We don’t bleed with Palestinians.
We stand with them in love,
with the Palestinians today.
Let’s chose war
of no violence.
We blanket them with love,
and we do that before they die.

What’s happening?
You met on social media.
Who turned out to hear?
A trail of my own two cities,
if you ever want a home in the field.
I love the Israeli people too.
And all the people were mad at me for what I’d done.
The Israelis the heavy hand,
all the solvin’ or even history,
well theirs won’t even hold
the Palestinians as people.
I’m here to see that.

I don’t know where we get off.
I compound a poem.
I’ve become a political speaker,
applyin’ love today.
Will you cancel out my poem that way?
Barbra Streisand do you hear me?
We need to love these people too.
That’s all I’m sayin’.
In the history of genocide,
we wouldn’t only look to Jews.
I’m defendin’ them.
No not actions, people.
I’ve seen it on TV
all my life,
airplanes blown up,
a lot of innocent people slaughtered,
because Palestinians were trying to get Israel
to unhook their humanity.

How do you end this war?
Israelis have to love Jews.
Israelis have to only love Jews.
Wow we’ve arrived
at that chosen people mandate.
Get Jews off my land!
It’ll blow your fucking mind,
half an hour
the vehicle of love is Israel.
You love me Israel—
put the Palestinians have a mandate for love.
Why can’t we Jewish exceptionalism here?
And you’ve got my love poem.
It’s a Nobel Prize today
love becomes the letter of the law.
That’s where you put your business,
oh you enterprising Jews.
Can your love see that?
Can your enterprise see that?
It’s a war machine now.
Everybody just ran up and started shootin’,
even after the terrorists were killed.
Is that Jewish exceptionalism?

The Mother’s Vision

I am down on Main Street
just by bein’ there.
I’m everybody’s special mission.
Ah,
I’m studying
the ways of the world,
the field of mankind.
I have the Earth in view.
I see what I’m sayin’.
Do you see it?

My poetry put you in barns.
No, it’s not clipped prose.
It’s symbol wrought.
I speak from vision’s lair.
You see the symbol on it
and the all-managing meaning.
What does a barn mean?
You got animals in there,
and it’s where you were raised
if you can’t polite society,
or if you don’t know what it means to be human.
Am I calling you names?

Well let’s get there,
to where I wanna take you,
and it’s not the hatred bunch.
I sit in your smile and sing.
It’s got symbol on it.
I sit in your animal and sing.
We are all rough wars.
We’ve got some things to learn about each other.
Can you see the writing on the wall?
We would celebrate that Hebrew saying.
It shows us so much.

We are not kind to each other.
World Kindness Day has an explosion test.
This guy went off on me,
and my kid just stepped on a red carpet.
He was livid
with hatred.
I didn’t understand it.
I thought I’d done something wrong.
You know how kids are,
they play.
He stepped on a standing iron that meant nothing.

It didn’t make any harm.
He was dancin’ into the ashram
on his feet.
No he wasn’t making swirls.
He just got in there in kid shoes.
A little pole he stepped on its base.
You know the kind with tape between them
to guide people in?
I’m describin’ the action
so you can see the picture:
nothing happened.

The thing didn’t get injured,
and it didn’t make any noise.
The man jumped up,
sittin’ there right past the gate,
and started tellin’ somebody they were out of line.
There was no line of people there.
He was just talking to my kid,
ignoring me,
purposefully.
Now who is he talking to I thought
at first.
The man showed me what my kid had done,
like he’d entered Auschwitz
a Nazi protector,
like my kid had really done something wrong.

He demonstrated the action,
stepped on the thing.
I couldn’t believe it.
I was surprised.
Without saying anything,
wanting to get to that Samadhi
so me and my kid could learn
the school of the Samadhi that day,
its lesson,
I half-turned and gestured a mock surprise,
then bellowed my arms and changed my face
a mine of that boy being guilty
of grave concerns,
but I was laughin’ about it
in my eyes and face
it was so trivial in nature
the boy’s infraction.
It was such a good performance.

The man did not appreciate the performance.
He got mad as hell.
I think I said first “He’s a child.”
He made the Shh! gesture to his lips like he was shooting me.
It hurt.
That really isn’t the quiet area.
The way he thrust his face forward and danced on his feet,
I saw the problem,
racial hatred.
They don’t like foreigners in that ashram,
though they’ll pretend to
if they like your name,
and my kid’s Tamil.
That Indian was not.
Wow, the can of worms we can open here.
The Sri Aurobindo Ashram hates Tamils.
No, but they look down their nose at them.

I tried to give him my name but he refused it,
trying to be kind and not answer the reaction
that was bubblin’ in me.
He didn’t give me a chance
to do the yoga.
That man called another man,
a passer by,
Tamil if I’m figurin’ right,
to enforce this prejudice against Tamils,
but all he knew he hated foreigners too.
You get that in India
a lot.

There was a dance,
as the rude individual
safeguarding Nazi ways
showed the other what the boy had done
by doin’ it himself.
If it was really wrong then why’d he keep doin’ it?
Well the Tamil man hated me too.
Why you’d ask,
because the boy had done something wrong?
I asked both if they were concentrating on the yoga.
Those fingers to their lips stabbed me in my heart.
I called out their hatred.
I felt as though
if I said another word
they’d call the police.
I just had to say it:
the Mother is watching you know,
and there I joined my boy on the steps.
They gave off a noise
with their postures
and facial expressions
that showed I had really messed up.

I walked away.
Nithish was almost in tears.
I could see the pain in his eyes.
He was hurt.
He wanted to go immediately,
leave the ashram.
No, we do our Samdhi today,
and I glowed with him
as our foreheads came to that special place,
where we meet our masters
and put their energy in our papers.

On the way out I stopped,
right there in the gate,
turned and faced the man
and said good morning.
I wanted him to see me.
I had wanted to take his picture,
but convinced myself no,
cameras aren’t allowed.
So I stood there,
my camera’s eyes.
He looked at me
and put his hand on his heart,
like he was the most gentil human being,
and said good morning too.

I wondered over the proximities of human behavior.
What mules we are.
I could’ve done better,
but how about you,
do you see the writing on this poem?
This is typical ashram behavior
with guests.
What can we do about it?
We can write poems
and show the world.