Their love of yoga,
all that had to do with the divine.
The divine is alive and well on Planet Earth.
He sees you.
Can you hear ‘im?
Made out to be a man,
but really She’s a woman,
when you get right down to pictures of Her
in the caretaker of Her smile.
A Mother Might looks out on the world,
and we are all the better for it.
Let’s change some,
become ourselves again,
as children see the world:
it glows,
oohs and aahs;
it’s bigger than us,
and we love it.
Gimmie the beat boys and free my soul. [heard sung by Dobie Gray, “Drift Away”]
You know how it feels,
so good to be alive.
Thank you Mother.
Now I’m dancin’ on this ice.
I don’t know how to explain this.
Oh Mother,
that’s not You in Pondicherry,
but I think we lifted You up
when we adored her feet.
I call on You through her,
as our yoga sees the world,
and in perfect deity fashion,
that woman in Pondicherry helps.
She’s in my living room.
Now do we count blessings?
I am in the arms of the Mother, you know?
She fills out for me
the way to move forward.
I call on her some,
but she is not my image of God.
I mean like I do sit in her lap,
pettin’ my Rottweiler,
but I’m lookin’ at God.
I can tell you a lot about deity.
There are waves of them.
I listen to them all the time.
I mean, I hear them speak.
I’m not always at their beck and call,
and I’m choosy.
I want those Sun voices way up there.
They’re wonderful.
They have our divinity all over them.
They gauge us there,
and they point us to God,
the supreme all-encompassing universe
that existence can light,
and it’s a conscious Individual all things are.
Don’t let my words get in the way.
God is how we meet the One on its time.
I’m talking big you understand.
All this agency gets down to us,
the level of existence we’re at—
I think I just heard God.
God will talk to you in spheres.
That’s what divinity is for,
and each time we mistake the day for the sun.
Conversations with God
are conversations with some deity.
How much freedom to understand that.
It’s yoga based,
if you want to know the truth.
We want to be God’s lovers here on earth.
We want to know God here on earth.
We want to see God here on earth,
see God in everything we see,
and one day,
God will ride us
who we are in time.
I’m breakin’ in on barriers
to show you God,
and these words have failed I know
to overcome that last barrier,
to understand God real in this sentence.
Can you light the fire of God?
This is not a proverbial question.
I’m askin’ ‘cause it hurts
you if you don’t,
hurts you in the fundamental ground of reality.
You can envision no one cares.
You can’t smuggle up to reality
and say this is safe.
You don’t know how to tie your shoe,
and that’s lacin’ the world
through your fingers
a project that smiles.
You’re just all bummed out
because the wonder of it all
is insufficient
to pick you up and carry you along
when you’re so discouraged you just want to die.
And I gettin’ through?
The fire of God is lightable on our time.
It’s not a deity wear,
some figure of God
asking for your allegiance.
It will burn off all this.
It will be bigger than time.
It won’t sit in an abode and judge you.
It will with the universe hold your hand.
How do you get there?
You need God.
Oh man I can’t get this through.
People will kill you if you don’t,
or the world will fall in.
Look out,
I’m tellin’ yah how to find God.
It’s need determines present,
and I don’t know how you make those conditions,
but when you’re a pedophile they come naturally.
That’s the price of your hate:
I get God and you don’t
anywhere near I’m showin’ Him to yah.
God hates sinners,
that’s a lie.
Oh my little child,
come let’s give you a bath.
You’ve gotten muddy again.
If you let Me I’ll get you outta there.
And then ensues the relationship.
You just don’t know God.
Or do you?
Come let us love together.
High and mighty,
I don’t see you in God.
Take pictures of Sri Aurobindo.
I’ve blossomed him,
brought out his yoga to the ground floor.
You’ll just think I’m lying,
the worshippers of Sri Aurobindo.
I’m golden atlas.
It’s not Sri Aurobindo I’m seein’.
You know the Supermind’s on the Earth.
I’m tailin’ it in.
Oh my God airplanes,
now look at this one.
It’s bigger than science.
It’s a cash card.
It’s the right way to do Earth.
It’s not forced.
It doesn’t have any artificial barriers between you
and what you’re supposed to do.
It’s not a morality flag.
It brings a different formula into the equation.
How big is this?
It heals time.
I’ve got roads on.
I push reality through the basin of time.
Shut up and go to sleep—
a reader quibs in.
Alright I’ll admit it.
It’s the supramental.
It’s very intense,
but it’s the supramental
has ahold of my paper.
I’m telling you what the decision is:
they are to occur the region.
Heavy regions,
girls we gotta absolve the conflict.
You put it in right there,
make the supramental the way we handle evil.
We don’t just military our paper.
Let me let you take a short look at that.
And then I realized something:
how does an honest criminal realize their mistake?
You banish them
forever.
Agency,
now to realize the Mother and Sri Aurobindo’s,
yeah, exactly.
Ensues the conversation.
Are you gonna be prepared?
I will be honest;
I didn’t know your name
Impossible.
Let’s get one thing straight, surrender to God,
it becomes possible right now.
God is the answer God is the key,
and the beauty is it’s not abstract.
You get here to this post God is holding your hand.
You can hear Him speak.
You can feel His power.
You can bask in His love.
You can see Him in everything that touches you I do.
Can we get anymore cornered than that?
God’s got you cornered,
and you can overcome any behavior.
You can do anything.
Okay those are the big city lights.
Wow, I’ve just described to you how the world was won.
Put that credit in my court,
and let’s celebrate the world together.
I mean not smoking and not being attached to smoking either.
So this rare new style
is upon the Earth today,
and as my teachers told me,
I put it there,
I and they.
Car commander,
be the example to everyone.
You have my permission.
Individuality under the Lord, you know?
I could do it before I found these lyrics,
lost lyrics,
as you won’t find them
until that thing happens
whereby one sees a poem
and gets other people to see it.
That mystery engagement with poetry,
I’m at a loss to understand.
Better thank a look,
knock out reader.
You know, have a nice day.
Make civilian source,
make civilian ready,
I am on my way
in the literary of my smile,
in the literacy of everybody’s smile.
Now here.
Is this Heaven? [vision with this line of being in a narrow exhibition space and colorful, extraordinary photographs on the walls all around me, more colorfully extraordinary ones appearing as I’m asking this question]
Your vanity
has registered a trip.
Oh excuse the mule,
he’s a real piece of work.
But I’m still comfort in,
and I’m standin’ by at your house,
if you ever wanna change the world
you live in.
How do you want me to be?
How to dream afterwards.
Tell this to the press corps:
I’m proud of yah;
you stopped killin’ people
on death row
(Oh BBC do you hear me?
That was pressure to kill
the Parkland shooter,
who you wanted killed.
Now on with the scroll),
and got the news ready
to see the criminal as a human being
you care about even though they did somethin’.
And there that’s my piece.
Not from institution to move along:
to auto-flash cooking
that old traditional paper just reports on.
We put it in user-generated content.
Hello gatekeeper, keep up.
Now there,
I got your number,
don’t I?
Supergame,
everybody listen to Hairy.
He’s got somethin’
make us all better people.
You out to lunch?
Glad you could join us,
as you left your sin and came over to help us.
Why do you all try to help?
We care,
which means
we grow up to care,
and everybody learns the three R’s
while they’re learnin’ this—
the whole import of school,
and can you tell me why not?
Newspapers here,
I gave you a way to make yourselves better.
Read this
to the public:
let’s teach our children to care,
and we solve all human-made problems
if we care about everybody.
How simple that is to see,
how horrible
we are blind to it,
and science-based gets us there?
Here’s where science fails:
it can’t see God,
and God alone cares.
We’re done.
The root of all papers,
and I’m figurin’ time.
What would you quib here,
I don’t see the import of your paper?
And if you said that
I don’t think you care
or even write home—
a poetry blush,
I mean practice for enlightenment.
Do we all come along?
Spiritual enlightenment,
it happens one person at a time.
I didn’t end this properly.
Let’s end this properly.
Okay where does your paper take us,
so long and thanks for all the fish?
At a human
let’s all look Christmas.
I mean study love
as the foundation of society.
Would I be talking to a brick wall?
Names,
is that the name of God?
Would you call him Jesus?
I don’t understand God’s son.
Would a man give birth to a dog?
The son is the substance of his father
and his mother,
and where is she in this picture
when we talk about the Trinity?
No God wore.
You’ve made up a family
to give God sustenance in your lives.
You don’t understand God.
Who can?
Come on let’s see God.
I don’t know where He comes from.
Could we call Jesus a bastard child?
Honestly, do you think his society did not?
Where do we go here?
I think Mary escapes to Ein Karem
to avoid being stoned.
Oh hi Elizabeth you’re pregnant too
out of wedlock.
Now can we capture sexual sin?
No he’s king of the world.
It was all a plan:
die on the cross for our sins.
And we’ve made up another story
to grapple with God in man.
Who was Jesus?
A little child born out of wedlock,
and everybody taunted him for it,
and he really suffered.
Is this in the Gospels?
No, it’s logic and common sense.
The people of his day hated adulterers
and bastard children.
Can the pedophile say that today?
Oh my goodness I’ve crossed lines
imaging sexual sin,
and how we use that to hate people.
Can you imagine a God of hate?
I think some people do.
Is that you?
Take Jesus by the hand,
and he will show you love for your neighbor,
even if your neighbor sins.
Compassionate Christ,
how that contradicts your world order.
I can’t imagine Jesus stoning people.
Go to hell you sinner!
You didn’t vote for me!
And that’s the Christ?
How conveniently laid out in your plans
to force the world on your belief.
Thank God there’s God,
the truth of things, you know?
no matter what you believe.
Jesus Christ,
I’ve not counted him exactly.
He gives us roads,
all the way to enlightenment/paradise. [worlds spoken simultaneously]
Our meeting him determines the course.
He’s not a throw away deity.
He gauges sin,
and helps us cross it.
We are loved there.
We bring him deity to us,
can find that Christ in ourselves,
the divine element,
and transfigure this in man.
These are later stages the Gospels know not of.
I think you’re seein’ Jesus,
the Christ in our lives,
spilt by Christianity.
The religion does not capture the man.
It’s legal framework
whereby to tax sin,
a framework of belief
to tail the universe on,
a holier-than-thou
that puts everyone else in hell.
This is the religion for the ages.
This is God’s total store
for man in planetary being alive.
Immensity knows no other look
than this.
What medieval planet have you been hanging out on?
I don’t think Jesus would recognize himself here.
Would you crucify him,
goes the refrain, [above and below lines lyrics from “Would You Crucify Him?”]
if he walked right here among you once again?
Now that’s John Michael Talbot.
He put down his sword
and became a religious man.
What do we do with him today?
Oh John,
you are so faithful to the Lord.
Is that a TV program?
Where is that window you opened
on the truth of Christ?
It’s right here
in the lyrics of this poem.
There’s positive paintings of the way of Christ.
You take the ball and run with it.
The ways of divinity ride here.
What happens if you destroy it,
the value of Christ?
You’re witnessin’ a new reality
if you don’t.
We’re all here in airplanes
evolving Christ.
We’re lookin’ at time.
We need a revolution here on earth.
There’s no way to avoid it
if we want to actually survive.
The unity consciousness,
a consciousness of Christ, hello?
He’s good for heroes.
Yes, he is good for heroes,
and the Gospels leave that out.
This poem was came about as a result of a conversation with a curator of the blog Some View of the World. The link will take you the post of theirs where the conversation took place, quite short on their end, and this is the second poem resulting from that. The other one you can read there.
He discovered that his Crimea life had to change.
I’m not talking about the pencil box.
We’re seein’ movies:
all eyes on the outer scene and you're in the movie.
How do I concentrate?
Remove obstacles.
Look at your life in purpose.
Don’t just stand there and stare at things.
I don’t know how to engage this.
Look at that rice on your plate.
Does it need you?
Yet it exists.
I need another metaphor.
There’s a dog in the corner.
It’s barking.
It’s baking.
It’s just lost in its own movement, you see?
You put yourself in everything you’re lookin’ at.
Can you give a free look,
free of charge?
Just look,
no questions asked.
This is less painful.
It’s not up and down.
The Source is just a remover of boundaries.
The Source won’t last long on my time.
I’m a question paper.
In this instructional video,
can we suddenly lick my nose,
make mean somethin’?
I wanna apply this to life
in the substance of my hands.
We process thought
so your hands help the world sunshine.
This even in the substance of your genitals
and how your dick holds the world when you look out upon the world.
Why the sudden graphic video?
Attention readers,
I think I got yours.
Once we go down there it’s hard to come back up, you know?
even in a poem.
I study reality whether you believe it or not.
I put divine values on everything.
Now I’m learnin’ to not bother with me.
A thousand runs will there it is.
We don’t want to invest reality with our stuff
in the substance of our see.
We want to be free in that look.
It’s like the doorbell rings,
and you’re not concerned about it.
You do not enter the picture.
Can you get that look?
It’s hard to bear/keep. [words spoken simultaneously]
There are so many things pressing on your mind.
This is thought control
at its most basic.
Can you see reality from here?
It’s got lines in it.
Crossing them means you.
A monkey sees that
swingin’ from tree to tree.
You can’t see that in your living room.
You’re not involved in yourself in reality,
unless your reality needs that look.
It’s screamin’ at yah.
Can get that look
on death row.
Reality has you by the balls,
and you see yourself too much.
This is freedom from spheres.
You have a long way to go
to freedom yourself,
oh world of my sunshine.
It’s not a substance of thought.
Your reality changes
the ground of consciousness has.
Wow, this is frightful
if you haven’t bubbled into it over time.
There’s no room for it,
with your leavin’ everything,
and you don’t know how to handle zero,
and everything’s still around you.
We’’ll get to that later.
It’s the culmination
culminated elsewhere.
This poem doesn’t go that far.
Here you just let go
of you as you stare at things.
photo by Donny
Anyway I’ve got a limited ordinary sword. [vision putting the image for poem here]
I can’t seem to see the forest for the trees.
It’s hot stuff,
because it’s got so much reality behind it,
but still there’s ordinary consciousness there.
Can you count the trees?
Can you even tell the difference
between a reality bin
and ‘can you see the trees’?
I am a lineman for the county. [heard sung by Glen Campbell, “Wichita Lineman”]
You’ve tripped up everybody—
a line you make.
Will it ever join reality?
We’d have to look at my poems awhile and see.
No one’s taking them to the picture show.
What form is that?
Can you get rid of me?
You’re not packaged reality.
I think the reader said that.
This is traditional English in the mass.
Where do all these bubbles come from?
A larger reality
that makes passes at reality
and even cowardly reality.
Much more was in conflict after Zelenskyy’s assassination.
Can we make Zelenskyy any bigger?
Planets and rallies in the corner,
the poet the symbol is a metaphor of.
This is so on your feet.
This is so operation from your mystery.
His society refuses him to speak.
You heard his poetry anyway—
lessons in accountability.
Alright throw him away for now,
and just look at bare reality.
It’s there behind the poem.
She was always ahead of the Path.
Can clear at any moment,
and she just keeps engagin’ in stuff until it does.
Do you want to see my failure in things?
It’s listed on the net.
And there it is.
Man it came to me at dawn:
I am now gonna make it to the top of the world,
with or without you. [heard sung by U2, “With or Without You”]
Do you hear my drivin’ point?
My freedom from midnight,
from all expressions of evil.
Can you hear that power?
It’s right where you least suspect it.
It’s in your living room.
Pick me up will yah?
Get into the rest of that television
mobilized for enlightenment.
Cheerio.
You can say he went to the doctor.
A lot comes out of that.
Good and clean,
those are the eyes.
Hallelujah.
Noah Pozner, 6, photo taken on Nov. 13, 2012 and provided by the family via The Washington Post
It’s a helicopter.
The issues are hands.
Listen to these.
It’s in the papers now:
how do we gather our children
and they’re all around us dead?
I see the faces now,
captured on camera
of a parent’s woe.
A little first grader,
I gave him a bath in the sink.
He was so little.
My God he was adorable.
I washed him clean.
The towel had so much laughter on it,
and I held my little boy dry to sleep.
What a memory gun,
someone took it and cut me up with it.
Alex Jones bled conspiracy.
Oh they love their guns.
Gets children murdered,
and slaps us with their memory.
Is this right?
Oh I love you momma.
Close the door you silly thing,
and go to school.
I love you too falls on my lips
every time I turn around.
Did I tell you that my sweet little boy?
Good God it hurts.
The world was smashed in my mirror.
I don’t trust it now.
It’s got sinister eyes.
I pound my head against the wall.
I don’t know how to fight this.
I don’t know what to do.
The tears still come so easily.
Can you see me son?
Will you be with me again?
This is terrible live action.
We call it Sandy Hook.
It will never end.
That hook rends my heart,
but it’s made of sand and I cannot grasp it out.
Oh the meaning in names.
Have you ever looked at that?
Yes, yes there’s a conspiracy,
in the very ground of reality itself.
I don’t know what’s going on.
This is just too much for me.
They love their guns more than murdered children.
I don’t understand this game.
Can we get at reality,
and put it in front of our faces,
so we see what’s going on?
Does this all have to be about your rights?
Look, Sandy Hook happened.
I was there—
and this is humanity please;
my heart was shot that day.
Can you tell a parent in a room their child didn’t die,
and that room is their child’s,
and all the dead child’s things stare back at them,
and they feel like killing themselves?
Would you feel that?
I would like to show you something.
It’s a horror show.
The worst reality in the world
opened fire on our children,
a little bit of hell in the room.
Can you feel their fear,
their fright?
Can hear their cries,
their oh my God their screams?
Can you hold their hand?
That’s what we’re here for.
Can you?
I want you to be there
in your mind’s eye,
in your heart’s chamber,
when you salute our flag.
Oh I’m not asking this every time,
just enough to matter,
just enough for a better America,
where we’ll be safe again
from a defeated imagination
that sees a conspiracy behind every bush
that get us all to hate.
Oh special interests groups I’m sorry,
you’re just special interest groups.
Love America, you know?
And that’s not a flag,
a founding father,
this political party or that.
It’s not even a revolution.
It’s us you and me,
Americans.
You heard the Sandy Hook massacre.
Whatever.
At the flywheel
of another one's comin',
and everybody knows that for sure.
What can we do?
I can stick out hate
and identify the root of the problem,
the hate that's out there mixin' with everybody,
and who would believe me?
Who would even see its massive spread among us
in every room in humanity?
This is my business,
takin' your hatred and showin' it to yah.
You hate me more than serial killers.
In America no one is hated more.
Jesus Christ, the pedophile.
Now on earth hello.
Have you ever seen the field of lyrics?
They’re divine emails
to singers, songwriters, and the sunlit path.
Yah hear ‘em?
They wouldn’t mail you to hell.
They come on wings of golden charm
in a literary ear,
all of them
that define music.
How easily they come
rollin’ in a song.
I’ve sideswiped a mirror.
This just doesn’t sound right.
Force, cram, there, stars.
Oh my the lyrics,
they need a water table.
I’m about your engines of change.
I defy the world.
You hear that rock 'n roll?
It just poured in.
Even love songs lit it.
And the 60s went on
until we could hear the sound no more.
It really rolled in then.
Lyrics told us what to do:
be kind to your brother;
watch the looking glass;
we don’t need no thought control. [heard sung, Pink Floyd, “Another Brick in the Wall”]
And bands played on.
They all got out of sorts.
The sound of music [heard sung, R.E.M., variation on lyrics “You Are the Everything”]
compensates for society’s hard ways.
You know what I’m talkin’ about.
Music glows.
I don’t know how to tell you to control it.
It’s your business when to turn it off,
but don’t you want that bare reality boy,
you and the world
face to face?
You’d use that too
to come together on yourself.
Bare bottom reality,
where we find ourselves in fight,
come on let’s get out of here
to the tune of music.
Use a song to fight?
Let’s listen to reality.
Billy don’t be a hero. [heard sung by Bo Donaldson, line names song]
Thanks for calling in,
but sometimes reality’s really fucked, you know?
and you’d die if you didn’t take up arms,
you and your whole family,
a Ukraine emergency.
You, see the difference?
I’m loud enough.
I just don’t know where to begin.
I’m on sleaze mode,
and I just ego the world away,
or I’ve lost my tune
in a bucket
of melodyless words.
I don’t bring you anywhere
the skylight gets ahold of yah.
I’m pretty and all,
sometimes,
but I’m awfully small with sharks.
Today’s music, right?
I ego the moon away.
Give it a Grammy
to correct the past.
I’m on it—
a racially motivated statement.
Got a guitar,
just give it your play
in the do’s of yourself.
Music will come rollin’ off your lips
when you trouble time with words
that bring the world together
on your knee,
and you’re rockin’ it to sleep
in its ballroom,
no matter how loud it gets,
no matter how tune.
Oh you open yourself
in the rhythm of your ear.
Hear that
the light of music. [heard sung by R.E.M., “You Are the Everything”]
It’s in your neighborhood.
It’s comin’ upon yah now.
Play that song.
If you want to sing out sing out. [heard sung by Cat Stevens, line name of song]
You hear music?
Do you know how to listen?
It’s a metaphor for change.
You’ve got to get down there and do it,
make it better,
your crumble with the world.
It means so much.
Now you’re listenin’
to another radio program
than the one you usually hear.
It’s got music in it.
It’s also got love.
It doesn’t neglect you.
It tells yah how to sing.
It’s a motion on a better world,
a better you,
a better me.
The music of rebellion,
I’m talkin’ to it.
I don’t think we’d leave out our own change,
would we, “Dream On”?
Unbelievable
the way that song rocks us,
so help us look at ourselves,
rollin’ and all.
There’s a distance.
He’s fishin’ me off.
He’s right.
We can’t get at music’s purpose.
I say change,
and I’m puttin’ words on starlight.
I mean heavy
a world has deepened in music.
It gathers us
way beyond the song.
This is experimental candy.
It’s got loads behind it.
It will refashion our world if we let it.
It will get bigger than time.
It’s in your inner ear.
Play it out.
Not so much what,
what in the world—
who dat?
It’s not the Devil son.
It’s glory.
I’m not gettin’ a chair or somethin’.
I’m gettin’ all this juice
to dance my religions/relations. [two words spoken simultaneously]
Teletransport investigations,
I think we’ve just spoken easy money.
Let me see your hand.
You would have no hair on the palm
if you want to be transported right
with another.
I mean it wouldn’t be about gettin’ laid
that brings you to world union.
Okay you’ve got my song,
and I give it to yah
for free.
Can we mix music and money?
A need to get rich can’t.
Jay,
I just want to say
you ease my music.
But would I let it lead the song?
It doesn’t sing,
a laboratory
substances faces only.
Unbelievable
where we need to see the world.
It’s in our holding hands.
Without it eclipsin’ the world—
it’s not at a pot party.
Hey, you know,
can we play that again,
a thing on
making rules?
We dance here.
It’s not how we make the world.
We come together on ourselves, you know?
World understanding dim.
I got your door.
It’s so sweet it’s in the air.
It will be music,
and then you sing,
you sing the song.
You remember me.
I was so 60s.
I brought you the right music
for social revolution,
to change the world
into the peace that will change the world,
into a love that will last longer than you feelin’ it,
into a brotherhood that goes beyond race and people-kind.
Let’s make this revolution happen.
Let’s go to town on music.
Open
to your brother.
To my brother?
We need peace
to make this music happen,
to get this show on the road.
If he’s got a different opinion than you he’s your friend.
If she’s disagrees with you you still let ‘er in.
You see my catfish?
You see the food bank?
You see where we all need to improve?
This is a weird pharmacy.
You actually give your brother your time,
give your sister a shoulder to lean on,
and they disagree with you what if?
Oh my puddin’ and pie,
don’t feel bad.
Don’t get all upset.
Give them the love on your corner
without bendin’ the rules:
keeping out of opinion debate
and trying to convert one another
to what you believe in.
Opinion circles
never give up.
You have to give in.
You have to,
no matter what,
no matter who you are.
Yes,
talking that’s not listening.
After all man,
we’ve got so much work to do
gettin’ our hearing to hear past TVs
and radio poles.
We need to hear music.
We got to right now.
It’s the light of the world,
so much paper
to put that in your vision,
so much time
for you to see.
Alright music industry,
crank it out.
Who we gonna work with,
the major groups and singers?
They’re hardly listenin’
to where music reaches us
a better generation,
the pop sound
that joins reality to love.
You
are so romantic
you love the world.
It can’t be faked.
I’m singin’ it everyday,
where I play the world,
this clavicle of house,
this Earth of mine.
I can get better at.
I can improve.
One final word:
make peace within meditation the meditation begins.
God it’s beautiful.
How’d you do in your family?
Come over here.
Look’s like burnt out.
They subset got on the phone.
It’s gonna last you again.
Your family is the arrangement,
those people in front of you,
whoever they are.
There’s your boss.
Oh history of change it’s here.
Music will tell yah.
Listen.
Let’s get out of town square.
Falls
the world in,
and we’re go back to music.
Thought of giving it all away
to a registered charity,
if I ever get outta here. [three lines heard sung by Paul McCartney and Wings, “Band on the Run”]
Come on Paul let’s go.
We’ve got music to attend to.
A guy that’s on the net.
It’s on the net.
I not been poet before.
Spirits in my head and they won’t go. [line heard sung by the Strumbellas, “Spirits”]
We’re shoppin’ for cars.
Can’t find a one in your neighborhood.
Bubble me up please.
This is Ranger.
I’m calculating science.
You don’t understand the net.
I’ll make a video
to make everyone laugh
so I can feel special inside.
I’ll waste my time here.
I don’t know what to say.
Can you do it,
make meaning out of worth?
A horrible commotion
the whole damn net.
Where do we put it?
I’m sure some voices rise.
Some everywhere.
Let’s not fudge with it.
Let’s put meaning on there.
Can you mean somethin,
make us all grow,
like we mean something?
Where is it
the meaning of this paper?
I think you’ve thrown me away.
The net’s speaking me.
Can you hear that?
Can you show your inmost self on TV?
Just one rupee sir,
and we’ll have taxes of course.
See that net?
You won’t be a voice talking.
We won’t take you there.
Do I wanna go down there,
to a person’s imaginary poet world?
Nah,
I read a few lines.
I think we’re good.
What’s he gonna say,
meaning?
Throw that poet away.
I’ve got an appetite for stuff.
Many rules gonna get broken
for the net value.
You are not prepared for its worth.
You just think it’s ticklin’ time.
It’s like a Ouija Board.
Who moved that dial?
Quagmire.
I think you read me loud and clear.
Now let’s test this boat.
Too heavy for us.
I know;
you can’t do it,
wash your hands with Jewish genitals
and save the world.
See how smart you are.
You can’t get your head down your pants.
You need to go really, really, slow.
That book will scare you,
Between Jerusalem I’m Sorry.
Read that book.
It’s an understand the world book,
not just human genitals.
In this book they’re just redeemed.
Can you see Jerusalem?
Oh my God he’s on paper,
the Internet,
the whole world.
Green light,
oh we can go back
and change something
if it didn’t work.
What am I supposed to do,
with QAnon
and that whole Trump’s the savior mess?
Let’s get them meet the press
and it’s we lose our democracy
if they’re voted in.
You okay?
It’s in Nature to stick up like that.
This is a long poem,
exact words.
Give it with me,
the meaning of life.
Back them I didn’t realize, well,
your anxiety’s gonna come up.
I’m sorry,
give yourself a tight squeeze.
We’re handlin’ the book.
This poem needs a picture.
Who Hannah?
She’s a lovely dog.
Leading a dog
to where we belong in time.
Must be some book,
leading a dog through time.
You got my wolf?
I think it’s your wolf actually.
Anyway read the book.
Is that my measurement?
Yes sweetheart.
This person is solvin’ the world.
You got that Houston?
Which asks you to stretch.
It's not fun for The Family Guy either.
Small snake bite—
you won’t get away with it,
no matter how you read it,
without it doin’ you some number.
Enjoy it;
this is the end of the world
that doesn’t know its origin.
You’re headed for a disaster,
oh world we live in,
if you can’t bring this book to light,
or its ideas on some other page.
Look I’m talkin’ to yah straight.
No other book has the power
to bring you to change.
You mean it
where this book is bound to you,
and that’s a doctor,
the one you need right now.
You think I’m exaggerating.
It’s all in the book,
and I’ve just mentioned time.
Can you see that far?
I don’t think you’re even lookin’.
History has a book party.
I think you’ll find this book
in its Rolodex.
You’re not listenin’.
You’ve watched too many commercials.
I reader
am in the whole thing.
Read it
and don’t look back.
You want extra-terrestrial contact
I should ask.
I’m not talking about the one in spaceships.
This is bigger than words.
Okay talk to the world
the very nature of its see.
I’m showin’ you that
extra-terrestrial.
No other formula has it
quite to this degree.
You understand me?
The nature of the universe will talk to yah
in large poetry ships,
and the prose will just knock you sideways.
All in a day’s work
in that book.
You take it from here.
Anyway, let’s call most everybody:
what do you want to do when you grow up?
You want to be mountain and feel pregnant with the world?
Excellent,
I got it.
I got your book,
and we’re right here
in the lighthouse
Pondicherry U.S.A.
to the spirit of India,
where star wars meets the Earth
in Israel.
You got that car?
I’m drivin’ it down the street.
Hop in.
We’re happenin’.
We're leadin' a book through time.
What texture is your vision?
Is it otherworldly?
Is it right there on the spot with everything?
Does it see layers?
Can it figure out God?
Do you see the reality behind reality,
see that in everything in reality?
If you only see yourself
standin’ on nothin’ but atomic molecules,
do you see anything else?
There is no beyond the universe,
nothing bigger than any conglomerate you believe in?
Do you see a beginning and an end
to the concept of forever?
Do you see the forces behind the universe
making it all happen?
Do you see yourself in that
a representative player in a chess game
with the ‘figure-it-all-out’?
Do you see meaninglessness as only existence?
Do you see the meaning of the stars?
Can you see any bigger than your little figure on earth
a humpback in immensity?
Can you see yourself in the microscope of time?
Can you see what you’re here for?
Can you see what you have to do?
Can you see the meaning of this poem?
Can you it see it plain and clear?
Can you see I’ve shown yourself beyond time?
Can you see that’s your spot in evolution,
the journey beyond anything stars made,
the journey beyond the universal envelope we’re in?
Can you see that figure here
where you’re at,
a body on earth?
You see a lot, don’t you?
Wear Light
There is an honesty here I can’t seem to capture.
There’s guttural, bold-faced reality
we don’t know how to adapt
to our meaning lives,
to our ordered square one.
We’re faced with it everyday.
We negotiate.
We stand on our head.
We dance and sing.
We don’t know what to do about it,
make it so it works
where our lives face the world.
We just stand there and gaze at it,
not knowing what to do with it.
It’s just a great big mother fucker,
too much little in our lives,
a mountain highway
that falls from grace.
It’s a little bump in the road
that threatens existence.
Now I talk to you
about what we’re doin’ here.
Can we redeem chaos?
Can we take the barrel of the Void
and fill it with God’s wine?
Can we take God’s night
and make it show the world?
Can we be what we are in knowledge
to where we are beneath ourselves?
Can we be real man?
A little piece of God
has fallen into the light.
Will it ever see again
it is God?
I heard you on the stairway hum an old familiar tune [heard sung by Bob Ayala, "Silent Witness"]
with the yoga of the world where God has been,
and we’re reachin’ there, you know?
And I’m with yah buddy.
Abdicate in Light
I seem to see myself
apart from everything,
a whole world unto myself.
I’m inside myself
watching you out there
oh world events in time.
It’s special in here.
It’s got grand in it.
It’s incredibly vast
in the fingers of my see.
I can’t make of it
the right thing to you,
the all, the everything.
Can we call that for later show?
I’m a principle list
in the summation of my see,
and I grapple with you the same.
Equal integers
on this strange planet,
we broker a see.
Incredible, isn’t it?
Is that the only way to see stars?
Can we get out of this?
I’m holdin’ it tight
in everything I do.
Can you believe me?
Oh my God I believe you.
I really, really, do.
Hear me?
We broker a universe
in the substance of ourselves.
We are so down there, you know?
We broker a universe you know.
Get my wings,
and I’m free space,
and I give all that to you.
What’s wrong with this see?
I’m not there yet,
but I’m standin’ right beside you.
Okay I’m blind.
I think you said that.
That’s time’s worth.
The sweet graze of the stars,
children enhance this;
children block this.
We don’t know what to do with children.
We crush children,
make school their only occupation,
even if it’s tribes.
They’re not supposed to do that,
hitch school to their star.
It’s mean:
so much force is used to get them to do it.
They’re whipped and beaten,
and you just think them frauds.
You don’t know how they are with you,
look up to you for so much sustenance.
They trust you.
Is that the only way to solve this,
with violence?
You don’t know what that kid’s thinkin’—
“You’re a bad woman Miss.”
Can you see yourself?
Do you even care?
What would you do if I told you
Nitish is a star in his own right?
He has the Mother’s calling.
He’s been initiated by God.
He will grow up to be a poet,
and I’m not kidding you.
Dyslexia has him by the throat.
You can’t seem to believe that.
You don’t even know what it means.
Is that so funny?
Dyslexia’s a large size.
It’s where kids go to school.
They don’t know how to behave themselves.
It’s all a mystery to them:
why can’t they do better in school?
They’re just dyslexic children.
Is that imagination to you?
Why do you hit him?
Is that your way with children?
You can’t do any better?
Why the hostility towards him?
He really tries, you know?
And he really cries.
Can you hear it?
Nitish is ugly now,
like he’s some derelict child.
He can’t do the simplest things
when it comes to letters and time,
numbers and what they do on the page,
school facts and memory power.
This is dyslexia.
It’s not a mean child.
Can you grasp this?
Now let’s look at Nitish
as who he will be when he grows up.
What makes you see failure?
You see his soul?
I’m a grandfather that does.
How do you know he’s going to fail?
He’s bigger than you.
He’s captured a star already.
Just take a mousetrap together and don’t worry about it.
Just take here your punishment.
You’ve got no right to hit him.
You have no right at all.
Now be a proper teacher
and be good to that boy.
You know I love that boy.
Believe me,
you hurt him,
and please stop.
Hand it down,
wean it down,
hand it to yah.
Ask that boy
to come closer.
You see a captain there don’t yah?
Never mind the school.
Please be good to him.
His burden is the world, you know?
A poem walk off with him.
You can history sing it.
You’re gonna see him be the very person children believe they can be.
I too had the world on my knee
and turned it wrong.
I was like you
and thought I did no wrong.
I couldn’t grasp its significance.
I’ve learned my lessons early and late.
I have to power you if I’m going to power me.
It’s something we all do together,
be reality human beings.
I pet my dog and say why.
We need a better world, don’t we?
That’s the story today.
Are you listenin’?
I am here with the Eyes.
See them?
Are you hearin’ me?
It’s the star point of Heaven’s gaze,
if you want to know the truth of the matter.
Now buckle up.
We got a long ride
to see the Sun.
Humbly and without reservation the teacher in question apologized to Nitish after reading this poem, and his teachers are learning about Dyslexia, but we still have a ways to go, and so I am not naming the teacher or the school and don’t want, don’t need, any outrage from you. I think this is the very first result I’ve gotten in an art action, that I know of at least, and it is so very close to home and so very personal, the most appropriate and needed kind of result. Thank you Mother.
an illustration by Margaret C. Cook for a 1913 addition of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass
A poem by Donny Lee Duke
He did.
He figured it out.
You haven’t seen it.
Oh my God no one has even read it.
What is your name?
A holistic reader.
There’s a lot of censorship
of the ideas that make the world.
The world ran out of culture.
It couldn’t see itself.
It didn’t care.
It couldn’t come up with itself.
It just stayed where it was.
It didn’t know where it was.
It had no means for improvement.
It was small and intimate.
It was huge and dim.
It didn’t know where to begin.
It’s stomped on itself.
It raced ahead.
It lagged behind.
It wore horns no one could grasp.
We sit here and stare at it today,
just confused by what we see.
This was self-taught,
how we reach out and touch the world.
It didn’t come in the papers.
It wasn’t on the Internet.
No course in university taught it.
No book could grasp the whole.
It wasn’t in speech.
You couldn’t find it anywhere.
Everybody was afraid of it.
They thought it would bite them.
How to reach out and touch the whole
came from inner experience.
It was deeper than the world.
It really tested your boundaries,
and you had no choice but to surrender to its process.
It had your very being at heart.
It schooled you,
showed the inside of everything.
You never saw it completely.
You just handled it with care.
It would eat you alive
if you affronted its mission.
You understood it was a Larger you.
You saw it dream
a nation of particulars.
It gave you vision,
spoke to you with the inner voice.
You held it close to you
and processed its thought
into the unknown.
Great the days lay
the seat-point of vision.
You just studied reality
absolved in yourself.
You had no way to communicate this to men,
wherever you came from.
No poem would read it,
no prose spell it out.
The visual arts could not express it,
no drama act it out,
no dance routine show it,
even in its living room.
It was beyond itself.
If you got life that need a poet,
I’m your subject right here.
Now go floss
with the rest of that form.
You’ve left something incomplete.
If I just listen,
I’d find it out numbers me.
I’ve encountered a different verse.
Its form is amplified by common speech.
There is the line.
Give me back my lunch;
I can do nothing with the way it works.
See there
you’ve been taken in.
Now tell me I’m a Great Lake I’m ready to play.
Now tell me I was murdered.
You know I just heard the news and wrote it down.
I’m a five star hotel,
and I’ve got the muse
in poetry form.
I mean inner voices speak.
It’s the divine muse of poetry.
How raw and off the cuff.
It has every name involved.
It won’t leave you alone.
Now say I’m silly
understanding prose.
All is said
to top off the mountain,
to be a governor unto itself,
to let you fly in the word.
How could that be?
I don’t think I got all freaked out about it
as grey mountain.
The poetry of redemption lands here,
the upper money.
I will just let you fuck me,
give in.
I’m about to be homeless.
That death I was telling you about,
they take my sky away from me.
The ground of silence eats me up.
I become a Silent Mind.
Realization proves my calling.
There’s nothing else
to realize:
we’re in love
with the whole thing,
each business and everybody.
We grok this.
It’s standin’ on your shoe.
Great the papers play
in the immediate seat of your room.
Welcome to the lost word.
That’s the sound of silence,
a preface to Enlightenment.
A shortcut,
I can write it down.
What else
can we do?
Headphones surround—
you’re hearin’ the interior music.
You’ve opened up that wide.
Wrap up some milk
left you some poetry.
This is your ticket.
For you it would be nice
right here:
the grinding of the dog.
I’m a farmer.
This is my business.
I keep business spoken.
Pinecones have left to a civilization.
What are you guys?
TikTok
describin’ the universe,
time of missed a keyframe
and causality.
Whether you want to or not,
the movie echo system.
You said what?
Reality in this page.
I’m gonna listen to yah.
Good mornin’.
I’ll loosen poetry I’ll listen.
Find that way offshore.
But Enlightenment seeks.
Ask her about the whole thing.
Did you tell ‘im you’ll take the horses,
make that your team?
Not that saying but keep
outside science,
and never cry wolf.
Read my full exposed.
My hands are tied.
Make me feel better.
Make me feel so much better.
We’re in this cut;
at least our voices aren’t.
He actually science.
Cosmopolitan
I understood it,
no doubt.
He’s right in front of me.
I could sing up here for hours.
I have everything I need to start the revolution.
I’m a purpose.
I want a bigger world.
You can keep me out as long as you can.
I’m not gonna die.
I’m gonna change consciousness.
Look me over.
I’m real.
I am so very real.
You can’t get around me.
It’s reality I’m showin’ you,
all holistically laid out.
You can dance all you want.
Reality’s not goin’ anywhere.
It’s on the way to you,
even if you don’t want it.
Reality’s comin’ for you.
Hold your head up high and embrace it.
A poem with your name on it Marginalian.
Poetry works
I can’t ignore.
She’s busy,
clean up what happened:
showed herself a calloused human being,
with no feelings at all
for the man everybody hates.
There is no Whole behind the whole—
she shows you what that does to you
when you believe that.
You don’t have to love everybody,
and you can pick and choose.
You don’t even have to treat them human.
Your ethics just come from ground zero,
and you make ‘em up on the spot.
Okay Riviera,
let’s see you explore your consciousness.
Can you do that?
Wow, have you blocked things.
You will not be happy with yourself
on the other side.
Maria Popova,
live up to your ideals,
and that intelligence of yours,
taking it
to some encounter on the inside
you see the whole,
you see it all means somethin’.
Put your finger on it,
and let us hear your own source material.
Has the jacket,
a lonely packet,
of quoting the right material.
That’s starfish.
It says more than what you want it to say.
Okay I’m outta here.
I have to let you everything,
be a work in progress
understand human.
I’m reminding myself
of what I’ve been taught.
You can have this.
It’s a seer’s wisdom.
Handle it with care.
They were talking about
y’all are choosing the apartment
you’re gonna let this seer in.
I’ve reached out to so many people
over the years.
A big no they wouldn’t even tell me,
usually.
They just read me and tossed me aside.
Put up his banner,
that’s where we go.
Who stole the cones?
You know it’s not coming.
You’re here for the Rachel Carson.
Write someone back.
You never had more powerful that was the end of the game.
a typical image found on channeling sites, source unknown
A poem by Donny Lee Duke
But in your routine,
what is the foundation of the whole thing?
It’s that the technology?
Can you point to God?
What’s happenin’
in your soul’s process with God?
Can you get your soul to speak?
Why always this:
you channel beings
of a particular order?
Can you grasp the inner voice,
hear that on the inside that your record?
Definitely more personal,
it’s got you at heart,
a wide variety of vision.
You’re hearin’ it now.
Now let me speak some
about capital.
You are not Nathaniel Hawthorne.
I hear no substance in your words.
Do you know the power of divine revelation?
It knocks you off your feet,
shakes you up,
makes you confront yourself,
and is really, really, poetic, you know?
No convulsions needed.
We can actually open a gateway
in people’s lives
to hope and possibility.
Wounded by something.
Now let’s go to the doctor,
and the young body
can open now.
Closed it,
closed it earlier,
channeling the soda pop.
I’m sorry,
that is not your next of kin.
I wouldn’t even call it divine.
I’m not gonna be used
by things that destroy
you just tell yourself.
Go get the basics
a little deep man:
we’ve whooped it up on stage.
The eve of creation—
you’ve hit the run around
with a big referral
to some starfish.
It’s got ears,
your soul buddy.
You have to ask it for help
fervently,
ardently.
Your soul rises to the surface
over many lifetimes.
I think you are where it speaks.
I offer you solace
in the form of understanding.
Come with me.
Stupid me,
I am not a perfected master,
not in Realization yet.
I’m sorry I sound so heavy,
so blow your tops off,
so glory in the hole.
I get in trouble
tryin’ to help.
People spit on me
the big bad outcast.
Oh have I sinned,
and so no one lets me speak.
Will you?
I wrote this poem, or my muse did rather, which also serves to introduce the poem I’m currently disseminating, “Tonight on Television”, to a person who channels, Asil Toksal, after watching a video on YouTube where he channels, or says he’s channeling, the archangel Ariel. The video here. I watched the whole video and left this poem both as a comment after it and in an email sent to his site.
Harm's End 