Video description: Nithish wrote this song in school after finally being able to spend a significant amount of time with me after six months of not seeing me. It came all at once, sung to him line by line by the inner voice. It was sung to the tune of “Daylight” by David Kushner, and I did the best I could to make it sound like that song when I took the wrapper he wrote it on and put it to my guitar. I was able to consult with him during that process.
Losing a child in circumstances where the child also loses you his parent sets up heartbreak on a level of suffering that is simply hell, for the parent and the kid, because your kid isn’t dead; your daddy isn’t dead. Both are in easy seeing distance but cannot even talk on the phone or message each other, and that is a knife that does not stop stabbing as time goes on. As long as that kid’s a kid, and even after, and as long as that daddy’s a daddy, hope assails you in the same place as despair, and all the bad voices are saying bye, all the good voices are saying hi. Now you can hear the song. He loves his daddy.
This poem was posted on the private Facebook group Auroville International. If you have been following recent posts on this blog, I’ve chronicled how they’ve declined everything I’ve tried to post on that Facebook group, totaling nine posts. Now, do I erase all I’ve chronicled? No, I think this might be valuable to show what it means to be heard.
Many a short to a poem. They won’t do definition. They get Auroville working in its nitty-gritty. I’m a mountain boat. We’ve gotta come up with a freeway to blanket taxes. Are you on the hate side of reason? Does anybody get your goat? Would you like to see them punished?
I’m a round about can. You’re supposed to do this in your underwear. I’ll let them know they have my vote today, and I will drop all punishment lists and let them be there, on the star of human unity, and I will include them in the new human being. How can I ensure all this happens? I don’t require of them anything. I am just kind to them, whatever they’ve done, whoever they are.
If it’s really close to home, some dirt they’ve done, my gee that hurt I will tell them, but I’m not going to hate you in this conversation. I’m going to battle you with love. It’s my duty as an Aurovillian. Can’t you see the problem? Human unity cannot hate. It cannot exclude anyone from its acceptance speech, meaning you ignore no one, and all get your goodwill. Are we right on that?
That’s the holistic speaker. That’s how we bring human unity into the room and not just talk about it. You with me kids? I didn’t think so. I’m just teachin’ yah how to be human, and you refuse me. Are you still a mountain to my molehill?
Unconscious everybody take the city apart. It can’t stand from within. A foreign body of law then comes in and lords it over all of yah. Let’s get the goats out of the shed. She’s not gonna happen you have no more scapegoats. That’s a big horse you’re ridin’ Auroville, and you’ve achieved human unity.
What else is it but including everyone in the worth you give human being? You don’t have to take them to lunch. You don’t have to tie their shoe. You give them the time of day like you mean it. There’s nobody that gets excluded from this. Alright Aurovillian, measure up.
Now look behind you. I’m on your report card. I open to you a scientific altar ego, the scapegoat of the day where sexual sin meets the railroad tracks. Nailed on the Cross to suffer with Jesus I said this isn’t working. I can’t author you along. I can’t show you art. I can’t startle you with spiritual experience. World experience doesn’t impress you or the quality of my education Classical Greek and all that. Even that I’m a kind human being that cleans his own house and makes buttered bread for yah doesn’t move your feet. Tada! It’s a miracle my boy back this evenin’, and it wasn’t supposed to happen in a million years. That made me human to you.
Okay let’s go. We got so many who just need good faith to add to their humanity to make it work, or at least put try on the table. Come on let’s go brother, and let’s get goin’ sister. Made you human enough to look center stage, and that’s where we need to be blessed, oh people of Auroville.
That was an impossibility you threw away my opportunity that boy’s comin’ home. We’re going to do some work in other children’s bedrooms, and I’m just going one, one, one. Silly boys, eight girls, this tie your shoe. In the nominal, in the history of God, where will we hunch those things? I want you to lay down, and we’re gonna move through dream to spiritual experience. That’s my forte with kids, and I know how to do it, and I love it there. Not the shoes. A little open-minded— if I don’t touch a worry root, okay? Now let’s get God manifested on this Earth.
I don’t think it was specifically because of this poem, but Auroville International posted a poem of mine in their private Facebook group some days after I posted this poem to Facebook and here. I think it had to do with the quality of the poem they did post, maybe not in terms of poetic merit, but in terms of being sincere to the goal of Auroville International, which they seem to be. That poem is called “Prayin’ for the Hour of God” posted on this blog a few days after I posted this one.
photo by Nithish
Not one star Auroville International. These are the streets humanity is lost. Wow, could you say the Mother’s will is here? Fuck this assistant, is that what you say? I give my critique to the Sun. A poet’s basin it hears, and that’s how I write this poem. I’m a rose for my little boy, and I’m fighting for him here, S. Nithish. We make music together. Hear it?
Stop quivering old D, your fingers will look like the attention, and they are. Alright rebel, steal the show. I have my own blog to put it on, to make sure I can be heard. I guess you don’t have anything to worry about, and I’ve just processed you with the snake. Auroville International, here I leave my calling card you hateful organization hellbent on revenge, and that’s where we find your attention.
We’re all completely naked. All of you need to get off your thin horses and see this: that boy needs Donny. I feel like a fundamental character. I feel like a plot. These are ice to snow more shoes. We’re both realizing we’re here. Our mastermind sets people free. That’s the long and short of it. Now terrible channels go home. I’m about to go on the other side of the wall. You will see me there promptly. Then you can count grab ass and green cards, you holier than thou bunch of people, you people Auroville don’t need.
Just look at the character you endow with. You come upon the scene with the hatred of the machine, and you throw people away. Self-sacrifice to help your brother, go out on a limb to speak to him, you can’t find that in yah, because you’ve agreed among yourselves to hate and rob people of their right to exist and banish them from the land, and not even eternity can redeem them, oh you Christian bunch of people where your bones meet the land.
Stark naked I am in front of your mow me down, and I ride vulnerable and sweet to your execution where you ban art. I ride healing in the midst of your hate, and I’m here to stay. Are you gonna shoot me? There is no love in your ice machine, and that is pitiful and strange because you are the consideration of a city that seeks to grow new men and women who want to radically change the Earth into a paradise of brotherly love and hope that dares bring God into our human flesh and divinize the land.
You are that change, oh you normal people putting hate where God grows. Old system be gone, old ways, that punishes you an infantry of hate and ill will that has no means to grow the integration of society in healing’s ways. You destroy that too selfish and a pain to the officer of love.
See this and change or lose your raison d’être with us, the people on the groundwork of human unity, harvesting it into the hands of the city to realize this on Earth. Now take my sin and look at it again in light of the art I’ve given you. It’s the end of harm isn’t it? Paid for by penance and long years of learning the pain that I have caused. Can you grasp that? Goodbye. Auroville International will you answer your position?
This is a photo-poem from my Twitter/X account, and there are years of them there. This one was posted December 11, 2020. It came in vision the other night to post it here.
When you meet people, it’s said to have a book confession. Don’t you like camera? There goes my hand in. Unlimited her tools, creation mother. I am really serious about my tea. I don’t pick up girls at happy bars. I’m bigger than that. No I live and learn. I too must lift the curtain of worn-mind. I can’t go overboard. I have to go to somewhere. I can’t get there too quickly.
We challenge each other, and you hear that basket in my house: my gravities have to be steady. I can’t pull the plug on reaction until I’m right where I need to see it. I’m pretty much a whole too. I see my desires. I’m not habituating them, and the sex chakra says no. Hang on, to the orgasm out the top of the head I am loyalty tower. I guess that’s way I rise behind this consciousness and enter the Silence again.
Astronaut, I am that astronaut torn the curtain between Nursemind and Supermind. Okay, if I get mad at you for up us in Elvis, I should just poet you shut up. Is Goofy’s rig not bad for sellin’? I’m at the end of my ferter of dynamite. You are all young. It’s a bit of closed up there. Can’t touch the Gods.
It’s not me didn’t see. That’s some awesome shit. I’m half-grown. Did you bring it one possible? Here it goes. Been there done that, I need you to do that, then study me some. Boy do I look different. Comin’ here’s comin’ here; I tried comin’ here for basketball, and it left me singin’ monster. I think you should just go inside.
He’s finished with the pencil, he’s ready for the expense. The world is not there with any street signs on it, how about that? Horse please, you can’t see the world as a substantial form. It’s a bare outline. You’ve lost the world right in front of you. It kinda gets me in my brother, and everything’s silent don’t you see you’re in the background noise?
Oh God it’s principle arrangement. There’s nothing in your pockets. You’re not tryin’ to get anything. There’s no motivation on your own. The world is just there, and your oyster’s not in it. You’re stunned. You’re taller than mankind. You’re deep in the Silence, and you come upon God ways.
We’re almost there. Just shimmy up that tree and stop field mouse. I’m breathin’ hard, but I’m right there at the gun a pageantry. Don’t throw me away. I know the business, and I put two and two together. My little boy’s the land rover that principles enlightenment. He’s got the starry list, and I’m in my union circle. Is no ants get to bar. He gets held and catered to, healed, and I reach the 5th dimension. I’m a bullpen for he comes home tomorra. I’m in the Silence come home. Enlightenment is it, a shoulder's worth.
These three photo-poems were posted on Mastodon January 21-28, 2024, and I was shadowbanned on the site after posting the first poem. Because I was left with no way to use hashtags or tags, no way to post comments on other people’s posts, and no way anyone could search for me on Mastodon, I left Mastodon. I had gone to Mastodon because I had been shadowbanned on Twitter/X, but on returning to Twitter/X in February, their shadowban had been lifted.
Posted January 21
All photos my own unless otherwise stated.photo by Douglas
I’m on the edge of time. I stand here and sing. I’m not about the braggart of time. I hold my voices down. I’m all the way down where you know me invisible. I did not carry this to my car. I banished it. I operated on you right where it hurt. I hit you in your social glasses. I tried to be free.
For all the noise I made a scarlet letter came down and banished me, but it’s not there where I pet my dogs and clean my house and cook for my best friend caring for him. I greet people like they’re the node of the day. I want them to know they are big in my eyes, just to help them ease the day to a better feeling for them. I hold knowledge in my hand, but I cannot shake their hand with it. It’s an alien spaceship, fairies in the wood. It’s who they are beyond time, and it is what I can see ails them. I turn the page and spew this out on a page to you, dear reader, where audience is as big a mystery as God. Do you hear me?
I see where the world’s going and how it ends, edging universes towards yah how the impossibilities of the one fulfill the other. Look at our goat today, but look at our supernal skies. I’ve painted myself wood of a lone seer in time. Silly me I bark too, and I cry for myself in moments of abandoned self-love. I hold in my hand the wrong sort of type, the wrong font for you to see reason, because it is way out your door. Can you gauge me?
I’m in your toilet bowl. I’m in your lunch pail, and I’m around your cookery at night. I get in bed with your children, and I’m in the love of your dogs. I take your glasses off to see society, and I break you down to see your soul. I’m a view of the vision of God, and I’m this little man next door. Hear me climb to the skies a poem rider, a poet mile, and I’ll get you one day, to get you to say hello world it’s me, and I love this poem. Don’t you see?
This poem also was declined by the private Facebook group Auroville International, and neither their admin nor anyone else from their organization will yet speak to me.
Harm's End 