I might’ve slipped on the internet This is no problem for me. It’s how I entered the internet. What do we got comin’? Poetry in your yard. Can I cross your brow with it? This is a think page. Go back to puppies and bullshit, if you want your hands in your underwear. The internet is for porn, in a nuclear holocaust.
What do I got for yah today? I don’t wanna write this down. A little girl was killed in Pondicherry, raped and murdered. I didn’t hear the news. Nithish told me on the way to school. Whatever happened, this girl suffered. Oh my God the reality these days. You should’ve seen caveman days, and all along humanity this has happened to children. It’s not special today. It’s just horrible.
I’m sorry little girl. She was nine-years-old. Nithish told me about Hindi kidnappers in Tamil Nadu. There were 300 of ‘em, it said on the news. Again, it’s Nithish’s report. I don’t speak Tamil, especially on the 6 o’clock news.
Goddamn this girl got killed, and do you know what? She was in her neighbor’s house for two days before it happened. She tried to escaped and they killed ‘er. What was normal procedure? You search the goddamn neighborhood, especially across the street. A strange old man livin’ alone? Hey man, can we check your house? That didn’t happen. Everybody was lookin’ for Hindi kidnappers, far away from the house, taking her organs and selling them. It was a mass hysteria, and it cost the city a lot. They would’ve found that girl, if they followed procedure.
I don’t think no one’s listenin’ to me. There was a day long strike all over Pondicherry before they found the girl. Where is she? Not far from the Hand, not far from God’s grace and lovingkindness. She can’t come back to us. No way, she’s dead.
Man is a trapped being; I can make that armstrong strong; what do you want to die next? said the demon to the little girl. Cause she’s a baby, can we carry this baby? Can we get around this baby? It wasn’t her fault. Hell opened up on that child and ate her.
We are left stunned. The pain, the fear, the little child suffered is unimaginable. I can understand the anger all over town, but it’s misplaced. She’s here to tell us something we can’t see: we can never blame ourselves for the wrong done by another; we aren't able to.
It’s exemplified in her, the abuse of children in Pondicherry. Slapped, kicked around, put in school, you don’t know the half of it. They’re made to bleed there, produce paltry items, the unnecessary, the boring, the out of wack, and they’re hit there. They’re made to go day after day to an excuse for school. Exams punish them. Their day is wasted in mean environments. Of course they bully each other. That’s what they’re learning there.
Can we take them home? Home’s a little harder, where the environment spills out. My God kids are beaten, made to serve their parents, told they are alive for their parents, controlled to the nth degree, lied to, spit on, and treated like they don’t count much. Is this your typical home in Pondicherry? It happens enough to produce this girl and her ordeal. Do you know the will available to abuse her from the collective conscious of Pondicherry? Set it right.
These are tell-tale signs that give us some indication what’s goin’ on in the collective. The symbol reproduces it in exaggerated form. It was not done by God it was done by devils, the demons attached to the men that did it and the horde of demons that came to feed. They’re all over Pondicherry. You don’t know their station here all over the world. They’re in your homes and families. They are the evil behind the act. We can only see the act.
Will you bear with me as I show you the blame game? I don’t know the timeline, but this girl didn’t die right away. She spent a couple of days in a house very close to her home. Nobody was lookin’ there with the focus of their concentration. Maybe she’d be alive if they did. A news report had broadcast some days earlier Hindi kidnappers were afoot kidnappin’ children in Pondicherry. That took the news and stupidly took the police station. Tamils don’t like out of state. They don’t want Hindi people here. So the search begin focusing on the mass hysteria of these organ sellers?
A video had circulated, of course, a Hindi kidnapper confessing all and tellin’ of the network in Pondicherry. That was the focus of the search, not for the little girl. I don’t know if they combed the neighborhood, knocked on doors, but that old man’s house was nearby, and he lived alone suspicious. What kept him from being searched? She was alive and there when they found her missin’, being raped repeatedly, while they looked elsewhere, and she wasn’t just murdered; she was killed with Hell’s hands.
Where are the Hindi kidnappers now? They are two Tamils in police hands, neighbors nearby. They young man had raped her before, and the old man ordered him to kidnap her and bring her to him, by threatening him with police would you believe? It all happened so fast. She was nabbed playing outside near her house. We have ganja to blame, new reports say. They were pot smokers, and it corrupted their Tamil. Tamils wouldn’t do this otherwise. Do you see the logic? Ban grass! and people are demonstratin’ in town. It’s already illegal.
What’s goin’ on? A culture is blind to itself, every culture on Earth. can we get ourselves to see? What do you do with your children, the first thing you should ask. Are you a teacher? You’re complacent just being one, but are you happy there? Do you really get mad at children? Do they see you smile throughout the day? Do they know your lovingkindness? It’s too much for you isn’t it, the system. You take it out on the kids. Would you get yourself to see that?
Now parents, do you shine on your children all the love and attention they need? It’s backbreakin’ work idn’t it, takin’ care of a home. Kids throw wrenches in the system don’t they, mess things up, won’t leave things alone. What do you do with them? I’m not askin’ if you love them or not. Do you speak harshly to them? Do you hit them? Do you rag on them all the time? They don’t measure up do they? No kids does in his parents’ room.
Pondicherry I’m sorry this is you. You’re hateful to your children, not every minute, not in every home, but it’s there strong enough to get this girl killed. You share responsibility Pondicherry with these two men, and I’ve written this poem so you can see that.
Do you know what a kidnapper is? Hold in the atmosphere the abuse of children where they are kidnapped. That’s the formula for TV. That’s the formula for Tamil Nadu. That’s the formula for Pondicherry. If you don’t see this more murders will come, more kidnappings. You’ll need to break ship to get it to stop. You’ll have to come from oneness base. That’s not typical. That’s not ordinary. That’s not the way we do things. It’s time we start.
All this talk of Hindu today, Hindu this, Hindu that, riled over cows, marriage conversions, temples in the air. I think Hindu gave the world oneness, didn’t it? It’s its underlying philosophy. On this Hindu stands. Where do you see it today in Hindu society? Is it ever-present? It’s not Hindu it’s oneness Hindu’s about. That is the temple we yard. That’s what brought it into being.
Hindu is alive on oneness. Without it it’s dead. Can you show me where India is alive today? Is Hindu alive today? Let’s do Hindu. Let’s do oneness.
I’m just anxious to ICU, and did you know that Hindu does that, brings us all to church? No, we need to get past temples and the religious offerings. We need to see oneness as the everyday of our lives. In practical hands it works, when you see the underlying of it all. Here I’ve shown you. I’m sorry Muslims don’t do this, or Christians, and Buddhists don’t believe it’s there. It’s the oneness of everything, the vibrant conscious oneness. It’s what Hindu has given to the world. It’s the truth of things. It’s why I’m here, and I’m here a long way from you. Will you join me in oneness?
Is this area to become worldwide useful? And oneness it is. We become practical that way. If we become oneness it is. We have to find the way there. I did, after bein’ horrible to children. It made me do it. I was open to God. I’m sleepin’ with one now, holding him safe, writing you this poem. I’ve taken care of him all night, his little heart, making sure he knows I’m here. He’s on me now, his little face on my chest. He’s seven now. He was born in my room. That means he was born from my house. His mother’s pregnancy was there. I’m a parental figure.
He trusts me. I have the key to his pants, but I don’t get into them with desire hands. He’s Nithish’s little brother. Nithish is in his room sleeping. I know how to take care of children, after so much trial and error. They really like my house. They are so welcome there, and I know how to do it, take care of a kid, just enough hands off to leave them alone, just enough hands on to give them what they need. This is fun for me. Did I hear you call me pedophile? I do love children, so much I can be in their presence all day, and I love it there. You need people like me. I make mistakes with my anger sometimes, yell and scream, and quickly apologize. They rule.
My ego gets bashed a lot, but you concede to a kid. You treat them well. They need to be the center of attention. The house revolves around them, in any God-given house, naturally. I teamwork this with Douglas, and he’s good with kids, funny as all get out, and we keep them kids safe and well taken care of. We are sweet to them. Everybody watches us do it here on the farm, smiles and warm faces, and we’ve been along together for years. Now I’m takin’ it to the next level, the public eye.
I want you to see oneness in operation. I’m one with you, one with these kids, and I want the world to see that it can be done, correct your problems with kids and move on. This is what I’m doin’ now, shakin’ Pondicherry by the leg, and sayin’ hey wake up, you need to change your way with kids. Is that too much to ask? It’s what we must ask. It starts with kids, our humanity, and the world unfolds in their hands how our hands have treated them. It’s not a nice world today is it?
Be nice to kids and it will be soon. If one generation, all around the world, could get it together with kids, and heal themselves of the abuse of them, the world would change automatically, dramatically be a better world. Is there too many of us to try? We can get it down in Pondicherry. We can take one city and show the ropes. We can make it our mandate, plan, not with the policeman’s stick, the angry shout, the tabloid news. It would have to be on oneness base. It would have to be holistically done. Hey, I’ve got a problem; can you give me the space to heal?
The healing would be immense. We would record how. It’s on God’s base, a dynamic healing plan right inside you. You’re hearin’ it speak now, an immune system we don’t know about. It heals us. Punishment, hatred, doesn’t.
What am I sayin’? Pondy grab your files and heal from what makes you abuse kids. I’ve shown a way, if you’re relaxed enough, if you can do it non-judgmentally and not even condemn yourself. It’s a love angle. It’s where we’re happenin’. Healin’s what we gotta do. Can we get started Pondicherry? Let’s see you put this on the news.
God as the ultimate existence that stands up creation, I would not see this as the Mother’s fancy. It was not her might. It wasn’t even what she was doin’. She was an Integral on Earth, a divine mother in human form. She was perfect and cast away all cares? What does a Mother mistake look like? It doesn’t look strong. We can pick apart her works, accept what we want, throw away the rest. No, we would not find the Mother there, but we need to know she’s strong, who made mistakes.
Who couldn’t see her mistakes, would that be a bridge too far? It’s the point of contention. It’s where we start. Now an integral arrangement sees everything in light of integrality. I will melt this understanding if I say it too quickly.
The Yoga of Integral Perfection calls for perfection before you start. Is that the gardener of the house? What does it mean be perfect in everything you do, always be perfect, never falter, never let your guard down once, and be austere always and ban pleasure from the room, all forms of pleasure, and wait for the bliss divine? I’ve paraphrased what the Mother said.
I’ve told you the truth. You can read it yourself. Do we take this and run with it? We die. It’s not possible in a human life. This is what we avoid, rigidity, a non-integral arrangement. What happened here?
The Mother spoke from her gun. She didn’t lift her voice and sing. She got carried away with the force of her words. She wanted divine perfection now. She couldn’t possibly tell us to get there that way: no flesh in the pan; put it on immediately. And yet this is what the Mother told us. It gives us scars. It makes us chew nails. It can’t be right.
We are left wonderin’ what to do, and we go to another place and she said balance your way there; don’t be moral-minded; don’t be a puritan; take it one step at a time; come to integrality slowly as fast as you can; give yourself room to breathe; it’s okay darlin’ I love you.
Can the Yoga see this, the Mother made mistakes? We would have to look at her death, months of moanin’ agony, and Pranab said she never mentioned the Work. We have to look at this. I’m sorry we have to. Was this a baseball card? No, it was her death. It happened to the Mother, and she spoke so bravely of death on so many occasions.
What happened there? All her austerities came to bear. She couldn’t lift them no more. They caught up to her, and in the end they ruled her. Do you know what she did? She kept death at bay. She actually, physically, kept death at bay, and it was her time to go. That’s what we must see, the strength of a God was in that will, but it was misplaced, misapplied, because she was there to conquer death you see.
Oh wait a minute I’m backin’ up. She was there to override death, make the physical a plaything of matter. My gun has misfired, I’m sorry. Make the physical obey the will of the Mother. In all her austerities involving matter, that was her aim.
She didn’t get that far. She came upon her consciousness and wanted done with it, and here’s where I do you business. She wanted done with the spiritual transformation before it was complete. How do I climb that mountain? Have patience with yourself my dear. How did I come to that conclusion? Evidence of the ego in Mother’s Agenda, her outbursts of anger on the floor, her impatience with herself, her still working it out in dream, her pride at being who she was. The Gods wanted her darshan she told a child once, who had angered the Mother for not waiting on her. Watch her hide her toothless grin. What do you say Donny? Mother I love you.
In his haste to put things right, make her where the Yoga stands, Sri Aurobindo overlooked these things in her, and no one could challenge him otherwise. Do you watch the Agenda? Early on is it? She tells Satprem she has gone beyond Sri Aurobindo. The exact nature of her words mean that. I think it’s the next session or shortly thereafter, she reports Sri Aurobindo with a stomachache. It’s all over his face. Now this is vision of course. What was he trying to tell her? She missed it completely. Do you see it? She hadn’t gone beyond Sri Aurobindo.
These are ugly things to look at, and we don’t want to. The Yoga of Integral Perfection bids us do. In her mistakes we are made right. We let them do what they need to do, give us some indication of the hardness of our endeavor, know that it’s not worked out yet the Yoga, and help us do it ourselves, avoiding those mistakes.
My God I’m sorry I’m showin’ this to yah. I’ve dealt with it for years. Maybe you have too? There was the Mother in books, and there was the Mother holding my hand, now my kid’s hand, sometimes very different Mothers. Can you hear this? You’d have to get concrete inner contact to see it.
I’m not down on her. She is the one I follow to make this yoga work for me. It’s her hand I hold. It’s her eyes that direct me where I’m to go. To write this poem I tried to tell her no. I don’t want to make you mad at me. Maybe we’re newfound friends? I obey the Mother, not always, not every time, but in my life she eventually gets her way. I concede.
In you’re hearin’ this poem I do. Please don’t shoot me for it. I love the Mother. I am her disciple, and I take her to heart, an integral, loving, mother that is the divine power behind this yoga, our protection, and our abide by Sri Aurobindo. Do I give you all my knowledge at once? They are one you know.
Now let’s get this beer can away from my lips. The Mother wants it so. Now every once in awhile is fine. Now here’s the deal: how do you break the rules by followin’ them? There has to be a plan, and the Mother laid this one out for me. I like beer, just a beer in the evening one or two times a week, but that would be every evening and two beers before long, and the Mother knows that. I could become an alcoholic so easily. The Mother’s told me that. Okay here it is: an austerity of every once in awhile has to be followed to the letter, and I will know what that letter is when it comes time for another beer inner contact with the Mother and sincere.
Can I get you a train? She’s here for all of us, and she’s right there with the plan for your sadhana. The divine mother she is. Expanded so after death, became that omniscient being as far as we’re concerned sadhaks of the Integral Yoga. She’s our Shakti. She’s our boss. She’s such a loving mother, incredibly above cars, and you and me are a car takin’ our yoga down the street. My job these days get that yoga goin’, by principlin’ it in myself every time I turn around, using myself as the chopping block. I try everybody. It’s not like I always succeed, but I’m the Yoga speaking about itself. Will you give me the time of day? Thank you.
The Mother waits for integral understanding, move this yoga down the road. Am I just a blight on y’all’s ears? Correction. I have the integral word. Will you hear it? You mean practice? If you could do it. Okay this is the church process. No, it’s everything that touches you throughout the day. It gets bigger you understand, a divine process. That’s an integral arrangement.
Gonna application in the very spots that give you problems, and you’ll get better at it every day, with many drawbacks, even goin’ backwards. It’s piecemeal with sudden starts into a brand new day. Ever the horizon waits for you to arrive, and another horizon comes into view, day after day after day. You just integral see you’re comin’ together on the plan, and it’s all comin’ home to yah now you get better at it.
Enjoy yourself some, yeah sure. Vital letting the hair down puts this yoga in perspective, and sometimes it’s not even wrong. I can’t rulebook. This is as plastic as infinity, and all your nature’s on the line, learnin’ how to control itself, learnin’ how to be made right, learnin’ the way to go. It doesn’t happen all at once. It’s a blind see in the very beginning, a hope and promise in the middle, a really coming unto yourself a divine keeper as you arrive. Awesome the world looks, and it’s not your master anymore.
Can I glide here? This is where every minute counts. This is where you have to do it or die. This is what you’ve all built up to, and you really pull it together here, with the Mother’s help, and it is always there, the Mother’s see.
All I know is that cat, she gets and spites you, that muse of creation, but I didn’t close this poem off to the public. This better be good. Because I struggled with the Mother in writing for years, her presentation on paper, the discrepancy between that and the Mother that was guiding me, and I’m not the only one. She’s soft and warm, but she’s fierce in her picture. She can sound so ego in the things that she said. She can sound ridiculous a time or two, like she wasn’t grounded in reality, especially near the end. Her obsession with truth for example, would if you’re hiding Jews?
Somethin’ happened to her later in life. She became obsessed with questions that body of hers could not answer. She wanted immortality that the body wrote, and she left Sri Aurobindo’s teachings, here and there, in the yelp of her cells, a sadhana so perilous, she almost lost her mind. She gave Satprem a golden key to screw up the Yoga after she died, with the transformation of the cells what the Yoga now means to so many in Auroville and around the world.
She set him up for failure, and we could not ignore him, she put so much attention into him, and we need to ignore him. He was an egoistic maniac. And what of Pranab, did you ever meet ‘im? A hateful man. The Mother chose him to be her guardian, and we’re left with his legacy today. What a hateful ashram we have. I’m dealin’ with that now. My little boy makes ‘em mad, bein' with a White man, and they’ve been mean to him. I can’t write poems there now.
Do you know what the Mother said about music? Narad was gonna bring down the new music, and he tried and tried. There was no understandin’ what the new music was, but it’s basically music played or sung to you on the inside, and you’re open to supramental life. Narad didn’t get that. He was not a vehicle to get there. Ananda Reddy was given a mandate to spread Sri Aurobindo’s gospel, make it understandable to men. He’s tried and tried. Thinks he’s done it from what I understand. He’s gotten the Yoga off track and is not open to the Mother. He hates me, and Narad won’t speak to me, ever. What do you do with that? You call it ill will.
We’re left with the Mother speaks, and that was not always correct. Can we find our way around that? I have. I’ve confronted it head on. I’ve seen behind the veil, and I understand the Mother in time. They said if you saw her you would understand. She was more than human. I’ve questioned so many people about that. Her presence caused people to wonder if not God had filled the room. Did you know she slapped a little girl across the face? I heard it from her brother himself. He witnessed it, was a kid too. She got mad at the child and hit her, and no one said a word. It was at a function and the child misbehaved, nothing major.
Was that the first time? Why did I hear about it? I would imagine you haven’t. That about wraps it up, the last image I want you to see, to understand the Mother was wrong sometimes in her earthly embodiment. A Yoga of Self-Perfection she wore she didn’t live up to, never mind the Goddess behind the frame. She told us to be perfect, and we can’t, not at least from day one. I’m finished, a poem so real on itself fulfills the time on the Earth.
What came first the chicken or the egg? Why the egg of course. Auf wiedersehen. Is this is a prompt? It’s skyward license. I’m on the way up. This will shake your world, and I’m a pied piper— hey everybody let’s go. You’re sterile wars today. I’m gettin’ there. I have an honest day’s work. My hat grows today Supermind. It’s Supramental Darshan at the ashram of Sri Aurobindo and inside the whole world. Comes once every four years, leap year.
Did I shake you some? Nobody’s doin’ it today, where Supermind’s concerned. It’s a blow out the top of your head, on the top of the world, beyond the universe. It’s a station up there, who you are inside beyond all the lives. It’s God up there, on His first row. We get bigger God. You identify with You. You’re there, the origin of all your lives, the Being you are in time representing. You are there You.
We come back to this, as our being gets there. I don’t wanna get this wrong. We are representative in time, representative of That, this station above our heads Supermind. It’s a golden foyer open in all its glory. We haven’t gotten to that yet. The Mother released it into the subtle physical. It’s yet to invade matter, but it’s there on our tops, if you’re old enough to get there in wheels of sadhana.
You can experience this, and all the doors you have open to do. They take you by surprise. I’m there I said. Oh no I am not. I’m not even in Silent Mind. I’m sittin’ down on my spool measurin’ sadhana. I let the supramental influence glow, a time or two, throughout my day, because I’ve been up there you see. Right at breaking point, and I beam up there again. Well I can block it all day long. I’m holdin’ myself down. Oh I’m sure your influence has somethin’ to do with it. You don’t put together the world hey look there’s Supermind.
I’m all over this. It’s a supramental thought I write, and I do it damn near every day. The top of my head’s open for to receive. You hear this now. Baby, I’m yours. [line heard sung by Barbara Lewis, line song title] You know how the song goes, “till two and two is three”. I’m a supramental can. I don’t give you the straight shoot the whole cigar. I can’t. I’m in Overmind bundles. I give you some facsimile thereof. I’m talking to you so many think cans an overmental thought wore. I’m not the direct Sun.
I couldn’t even try. We haven’t everglade that yet, the world is open to Supermind, and it writes our poetry. There’s a balance between error and what’s this shit? Okay who corrupted my piece? We are aware of those. Now you wrote the most healthiest thing to say if you were formin’ Supermind to an overmental audience. We’re all overmental today. We are on the plane of the cosmic Gods, anywhere we touch religion and put on spiritual shoes, and Overmind formed civilization, if you didn’t know. That makes us pretty overmental, any way you go.
It confounds the animal, and it makes us man. Did I get that right? Or people I should say. We’re good in it. We’re terrible to people who do not honor civilization. We cut them up in little pieces and feed them to the dogs, even if we don’t love them. Did I just say something wrong? Well the Gods are merciful, but our hands in Their laws carry the day. We just stood there and punished sin, God there or not.
We are overmental beings how we see reality. You don’t see that pole. You don’t even see me an answer to grave letter. I’m an overmental pail, and I see into this matter deeply, sittin’ here open to Supermind, the bad man on Earth. You get bigger God. Not all overmental divinities are open to infinity. I carry the Integral Yoga of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo, and overmental House if you please. They are open to infinity, within infinity, within infinity, and they are open to Supermind. This is a Tamil bakery plan, and it’s all over the place, but Supermind arrived here in the Mother’s plans.
I am the supramental manifestation on Earth. And you would be wrong, if you brooded there. The Mother didn’t manifest Supermind either, where her consciousness was concerned. What am I sayin’? You’d hear me say it. It got on Sri Aurobindo’s tops, but he did not abide there, but he did not manifest it there. He was a supramental being in form only. He didn’t get there. Sudden shoot ups saw him stop in the Supermind, and all the glory he arose. How do I count this to you? Let’s understand it.
Though Sri Aurobindo counts Supermind, we encounter him in Overmind, as our uncle and our sage, as our guide and our teacher. Do you worship this? Do you just sit there and count stars? Supermind’s above us, and we do not get there in overmental ways. I have all these knowledge bits for you to handle. I am not a sudden sit there in everybody’s glee. I tarry you in understanding, because it’s there, Supermind and Supermind realizing on Earth. This is a different mode of consciousness than God on Earth in any form today.
We don’t worship transformation hello God. Supermind grabs us by the arms. No, it doesn’t even call on our tops. It transforms. It doesn’t deity. It’s just itself up there lookin’ down. We look up and meet it, and in that look transform the world.
Do you snake bite? I’m afraid you do there’s no hope for you. Everything’s about vengeance, and even the Gods dry there, in wells of compassion they can’t seem to rise. Where do you go for healing? Can we tell the public you do? This is Supermind’s regard on the world. It heals stuff, transforms its nature. It uses the very stuff of nature to do that. My how amoral this is. Right in nature’s man, it takes a man’s vice and heals him with it, heals him with his sin, changes it, perfects it, gives it divine reason to live, and all the harm has been removed.
Nature won’t allow this in halls of man, and we get stuck there, not knowin’ what to do. Oh it seems us right to punish. Punish harder take out the stinger it is believed. Can I get you there? It doesn’t work. Throw a gay off a roof, and you have a dead gay. Who has healed homosexuality? Oh if I said pedophile you would agree— kill the son of a bitch.
What do we do now? Give God the plan. In sudden moments of universe, I’m on my tops now, basking there. You’re there with me, not all smiles. My God the forms of this world, they carry you to Supermind, and they’re right there on our tops, changing forms. Do you see the God inside? I can’t pronounce it none. It’s where we get bigger, lookin’ at the world through formless eyes, letting the world get bigger than her visage, seeing behind the form God.
You can’t let a thang trip you up. Nothing can get in your way. You are bigger than the world you see, and you find Supermind there, behind the forms. It’s been here all along, is the ground of everything really, is where creation starts, in the supramental pail we are. Supermind’s the ground of being, as far as we’re concerned. It’s what gives intelligence to matter, is the look that set the stars to light. We see it blossom in a flower, so insects will eat it, and pass their honey round. It’s the arrangement of things. It’s starred everything to a certain hour.
It has no business here, as interferers. We can’t pray to it and get it to act. It’s bigger than the Gods. It has no fetters the conditions of the universe impose. It’s here I said, in sudden storms, not as a God acting, as time being, since it’s the nature of things. Can you get this? Would you believe it’s here now, a time born storm?
The Mother and Sri Aurobindo arise its fountain on Earth, not as Gods, as the beings they are, set to this task. You wouldn’t worship them there, but they’re aligned with Earth to see this through, and they’ve picked a pedophile to bring it to you. Do you see Supermind? You can’t know its formula, unless you do. Transform the nature of the Earth, can you get a better man than pedophile to reveal what needs to be changed? And he is not the revealer. You are. My God the piles of wood we’ve chopped and stacked today. Do you see them?
I’m there, right around the corner from you, and we’ll meet soon, as the glory finds us. You hear me people? What do I say but WHAM! It is the nature of things, the supramental manifestation.
The title to the above poem came several feet from entering Sri Aurobindo’s room at the ashram in Pondicherry, India. I had completed the poem waiting for the room darshan outside, writing it all day, both at home where I live in the country and in the city, driving in traffic and sitting at various businesses and at the central park. The last line came when I arrived at the ashram in the late afternoon.
Nithish and I taking a selfie together for this poem
This poem was written for the trustees of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry, India, and was given to them the only way correspondence can be, if you are not an ashramite or someone they know, by giving it in an envelope to Mr Puru at the photo room adjacent to the Samadhi, and whether or not he will pass it on is entirely up to him. The Samadhi is the tomb of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo, where people come to sit, meditate, and pray, which is located at the ashram.
We met these tomfooleries. Do you ever look at your own car? Can you be a better sadhak in wood, a better disciple of Sri Aurobindo? I lunge there: I spend my day in total concentration. This is a farmer on my land. I really till the soil. The concentration comes and goes, but it’s picked up time and time again. It’s fits and starts, all day long.
Can you be a better sadhak of Sri Aurobindo? I’m burnin’ on that ground. I clear my mind and find it’s there, for few certain minutes. Can we come back to this? I always do. I am disciple of Sri Aurobindo that always hears words my inner ear hears. I write them down through a voice recorder. My God I’m a seer someone said. No one’s said this yet. I’m just this guy with wood, if you see me on the street, held by my little boy.
He’s white and I’m black, as society sees us, an easy lesson in symbols if you hear. What color am I with him? I am navy green. That means he’s safe with me. What a spectacle for a pair of eyes. The racial mix’s intriguing, on the bandwidth of ourself. Don’t doctor this up. We’ve got infinity going for us, racin’ around, a whole field show. We do sadhana together. I be his teacher.
He’s not cloven foot. He stands on his sadhana too, a kid in grace and poise. Okay stand back. Here’s where we differ. Open the inner consciousness child. Reach in there and find soul. Open up in vision God. The Mother and Sri Aurobindo take those places so many times in his dreams and visions, and in his understanding of God. A child’s understanding basks in time. No matter, they are his guides and goads.
He’s opened the inner consciousness, and his poetry would map our Earth, if we but could give it time to breathe. School shoves it down his throat: hey kid, study for your exams? An exam is a holdover from the last institution: caveman you gotta learn this mile; it’s survival of the fittest. My God the lists against this kid are strong. It’s a wonder he’s even doing it, bein’ a vehicle of the inner voice. The inner lines are strong.
I know the doubt and fear cast on this. You would only see to know. His latest poem I include at the back of this email. His latest voice I include. We measure this by the strength of his ego. That’s not fair. A little kid’s sense wrote this.
Now here we are sittin’ at the back of this ego. And we mention the poet. I’m in the poem you see. Now listen to a story. I’ve given my kid the voice recorder. He might get a line. We are at the opposite pole of the Samadhi from the crowd. I’ve never sat there before. I'm with my other student Mithun, who hears inner music. I don’t got no more students but them.
A band plays. I hear the line “Ice cold Samadhi” just given into my inner ear, but my boy’s got the voice recorder occupied, whisperin’ in two lines of his own: “Rechargeable minds here, Olympus.” Here’s where it gets weird. Someone not connected with the Samadhi watch, not a staffer there, or so I think not, gets an eye on the voice recorder, walkin’ by the mountain. “Gimmie that.” No polite words were spoken, no considerations one, no respect none.
It’s here you’re doin’ sadhana, when somebody pops yah. All the gold comes out. I’m sorry to say none of mine did. In the ensuing conversations with this person and that, I just defended myself, and my boy there. I did not do what I was supposed to do: not react, but I didn’t tell one person off. I kept reaction out of my voice, to the degree anger and ill will I didn’t let show.
This I was careful to do. No one heard me. No one said a word. You know how this is gonna be reported: that son of a bitch lied and stole. You will believe your people, of course, but all things show themselves in time, and no one will be able to lie then, together or apart.
I’m left with a voice recorder I’ve used there now many years. I’ve written poems from that Samadhi, framed one and gave it to yah, “The Rotisserie of God”. No one has ever copied me, the reason I was told I couldn’t do it: everyone will. You think I’d of been discovered by now if it were a ruckus, but I can bring a pencil and paper if you insist. That leaves me with gold they will take from me there, when I come to pray. We will check you now every time. You know when a threat’s spoken. It’s the hatred in their eyes. We will harass you every time you come here. Can this not be what they really said?
Well Savitri asks for boons, from the spectre death. I’m not gonna ask for the blind to see. I’m just a sadhak not Savitri, but I hear you call my name, and can I write poetry sir on my voice recorder at the Samadhi? Well, I’ll wait. Now here’s the one I’m worried about. Can I enter the ashram gates without bein’ harassed? I’ll bring pencil and paper sir, until you tell me otherwise. No hidden cameras to record my voice I’ll wear. Do we have a deal?
Trustee please, are you spiritual? This is a Samadhi question. I live there in my heart all the time. I react, sure, but I’m there, and I live in vision. I see the world before my eyes a thing under creation. It’s being made right now. I hear this in vision, and you did too. “Ice cold Samadhi” means it was a frigid place emotionally, and where was this? It was in the situation I described. These men were ice cold, no warmth at all in their voice or in their eyes. Immediately they rose to anger, all riled upon themselves, and I’d had prevision of this, in that line of muse, just before it started.
The world rose there, before my very eyes, and I only saw it after it was over. Could help then? Well it sure helps in our conversation. I don’t think those men gathered the future before it happened. They were not focused and gathered. All came to put that foreigner in his place, like their reaction was natural the order of the day, like they weren’t doing sadhana. They acted like the inner voice had no place in Sri Aurobindo’s yoga. It was wrong.
Can I tell you something else? Well, my inner voice was right on. I forgot to tell yah… Some people say no I just made a mess. He wants to go over it look— my muse on where I’ve been. I’ve been to the moon and back, if you’re listenin’ to muse, and I’ve danced with the military on tactical nukes, a U.S. special forces commando. I’ve been in the heart and breath stop in Silent Mind, that hurried glance, and I saw the Gods in their tiers in Overmind, and on a rim of dreamless sleep, dived into the well of soul. Would you believe in overhead? The consciousness raises up there, like several meters, and there you find Supermind. Makes for a lot of poetry. Brief glimpses all, but I’ve seen what I’m sayin’.
I can go round about the world a penniless vagabond— 27 countries in 10 years. Do you have that faith? I don’t think you even learned Classical Greek. Translate Euripides into English verse, and you’ll gather strength in poetry. You also get good at it, in time. Took me 25 years, even after I started hearin’ it.
Now can we define the future poetry? The future’s got that in hand. I don’t understand. I’ve heard the future call my name, and you won’t show this to anyone? Paper airplanes every poem I’ve made? Make or break yah, these are not conventional teeth. Are you open to the divine? Candywood make or break yah, what you hear on the internet today.
I’m sorry I took it up, the internet speaker. I get laughed at and lauded. The latter’s not louder, but they’ve gotta eat too, the people on there for the breeze, and I might be seen soon by a pitchfork and a vital that hate me so much I go viral. Look there’s nothing in them, the threats I face today. The rotating officer is not interested in me. I’m not hurtin’ anybody. I’m not doin’ anything wrong. Now you’re starrin’ me, at your look see.
Oh well, do it to her face okay? Get another bad piece from her. You gave her a poem that said she needed to work on it, humanity’s tiger. Do people really wanna act like that at the ashram? A boy his hair, that’s what he does. I thought you’d notice they walk silly. Good idea, I’m talking about being human kind and loving to all who enter your gates.
You’re gonna have to, whadda you do? Really buckle down and be good to people, and her hair could be picked up too, and she could focus and concentrate, breakin’ along can reality period, yeah, yeah. Global, I even ask you to global change. Here it is you have a mirror. There’s broad stroke said it. There’s the yoga. Everybody makes mistakes. Would you offer this to the Mother?
Opening up kids, I agree with you. We don’t block them from society. We fathom them God. We don’t fathom them school. And they become there, on the journey to God a society rose. What do we hope by it? We get bigger than ourselves. His heart, a little boy rises his soul. A little boy rises I’ve been meanin’ to tell you. The expectation’s not the kid. It’s the consciousness. What’s this mountain? You wanna bring God into the world.
I tried to do a little explainin’ on boyness and the nature of man, on bein’ human. We are here for this. We need all our strength. Practice is another suite. Send it sweet. Did you get everybody put in this spirit? It takes the world to make it up. Blown up yeah. We made it here, in this section, to the touch of a magazine. Everything’s online, and this will be too, now or never.
Do you understand the flavor here? That’s the flavor of change. That’s the flavor of Harm’s End. These are bunk beds, and we live here, grandfather and his grandson you keep hittin’ at. Did I mention Douglas? Puts together his life with the Mother. A house is not complete without dogs, and we have four. They are the love of our life.
Our friend is on the roof, Narasimha, protecting my house if you should try to take me down. I don’t die. A divine worker is protected. This is what I’m aiming: the life divine. So much power, you’ll have instructions. May God bless you.
Your outer form was carried right. We are not derelicts or sinners. We are safe and sound. I’m will extra deep, alright? Okay, you have been warned. You don’t mess with divine protection, but are you really mean-spirited? Does the Mother cross your brow if you should hate someone? Okay your character’s on the table now. May you wish blessings for all. May you really hold the Mother’s hand.
I bear you no ill will. I’m not in a campaign to smear your name. I’m doin’ what I’m supposed to be doin’, here writing you a poem, now doing sadhana. I’ve changed the ticker tape in his life, that kid. Am I glad he met me with the divine. I’ve met you that way. That’s the story. Oh wait a minute daddy I wanna fix my lunch, one second. A purity of kid rose, a gracious cartoon. Now let’s survive this and become better friends.
You know it’s there, the fact of your will or consciousness behind a lesson. Okay, noted. Well it will transfer that it was made by the foreigner. Okay, spit on ‘im. I don’t think so. Your thought process in relation to your thoughts, and you pick them up randomly? Now that’s got uncle and brother, your bigger clothes, without AI. I’m here to help.
Paradise Things With Lyrics by S. Nithish
Reach for peace, but it’s a long jump away. It’s One stairs. Butterflies are our airplanes. They’re peaceful and calm. They can fly us to space. From there we need to walk.
There’s a place for everybody in the world. I did two steps: let the Light be the guide; my place is out of this world. We all have something that we should pass on. I do not have a turnoff button.
The ancient minds were better. They left out clues for us. They left out clues around the world. We should always say thanks. Stars were meant to be together.
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.
Stop dyin’.
Don’t bury yourself.
Don’t compromise.
That’s when your guesses are weak.
Our thesis is this:
a themed to understand mankind.
Is that controlled see?
It’s bigger than you and me.
It doesn’t land you in the dirt,
grovelin’ life force pennies.
You know what I mean?
Now let’s program.
I will see you off to school,
okay?
I can’t do that.
Let’s do that.
You and Roberson are part of a family plan.
We have convinced you to send your kids to school.
Now that was a trick.
Don’t you blame it on the industrial revolution?
Thereabouts.
Universal education,
put China as a role model.
She started long before.
I’m not tellin’ yah to do it.
I’m tellin’ yah it stinks.
What’s wrong with society?
School.
We teach academics not to be good to one another.
While Japan started with good citizenry,
they created a monster,
copying the West.
We don’t teach boys and girls to be good people,
how to handle life,
their depression,
modes of being,
ways to get out of trouble.
We focus on one thing:
good handwriting
in academic subjects,
brain things.
Do you know how dumb this is?
Look at society.
I’m not talkin’ teachin’ morals,
do this don’t do that.
Yah hear me kids?
We’re not producin’ robots
Confucius.
We want them to obey
their conscience,
and that’s not mean and cruel.
It doesn’t hit anybody,
unless it’s warped,
like a magnet,
and is attracted to society’s dominance.
We want individuals here (sorry India)
that stand and reason
for the juxtapositions of society to stop.
Do you hear me Houston?
What do you teach in a classroom?
Able-bodied citizens,
can I speak with you?
Of course, I’m open.
Why you learn from me?
Now that’s a touch subject.
I need to study you first,
and we look at criteria.
These are society’s ways
we understand how to teach.
Well this presentation
is not a memorization kit.
It’s a school play.
You play a lot
to get the concepts down,
where society meets its roles.
Okay now you be the immigrant,
and you’re the assimilation policy.
You take it in droves:
students must constantly assimilate new material
of what they will face in life.
They will be ready for life.
We want to think and we want to feel
oh my that’s sad isn’t it?
I don’t think we avoid the tough stuff.
There’s a toddler in a revolution
sees his parents killed,
his brother his sister.
They live in Gaza now
or a kibbutz nearby.
Alright third grader,
feel that.
Are you lonely now?
Do we teach them to read?
Without society you cannot read.
We read all the time.
We need to learn to read to write.
Expressing feelings and ideas
takes the spotlight.
The grammar and spelling
is to encourage them to write,
and neither demands them to write.
Now I can polish off the academic subjects
in the same way.
It’s a feelings test.
Does the student feel like shit?
There’s still a prize
for academic achievers,
for those smart kids.
We just follow up
with their holistic report card.
We need them kind too.
We need them on the ball
to bring in a better world.
Piles and orchards,
we don’t spread them out in those.
Okay kill the neighborhood
you’ve made the secret formula.
Here’s an idea:
don’t try to make a scientist out of everybody,
or a doctor or an engineer.
Oh India you’re lost here.
Does the kid have a talent?
Teach them that
as if their life depends on it
because it does.
Teachers are role models
of good behavior.
If they fly off the handle they apologize
and start again.
Did I say they love children?
They never hit them.
They know what it’s like to be in school,
and that’s not all day.
It doesn’t take over children’s lives.
It doesn’t even need to be so big—
little small groups here and there
neighborhood arranged,
and there’s mixing
to bring everybody to state.
We do sports.
Do you see how small this is?
A few hundred students no.
Sometimes just a handful—
depend on the center used.
We really want time for the students
to get the attention they need.
How decentralized is this?
It’s a whole other concept of education,
called No School by the Mother.
No one follows her anymore
in this regard.
You wouldn’t spank them.
You can have an administration
visiting all the schools
constantly,
friendly,
a great big leviathan no.
We want nice people
that can work hard and play.
Do you hear me society?
A Palestinian boy sits on the rubble of his house destroyed in an Israeli airstrike, in Beit Hanun, Gaza. Photograph: Mohammed Saber/EPA
When the ticks were talking about building churches,
it’s free speech.
I don’t know who I have a ham on today.
I don’t know who’s worthy.
I don’t know who I’m talking about.
It’s race cards.
Can we talk about the Black Lives Movement supporting Israel?
It did in Chicago—
okay Hamas,
you terrorists,
thank you for being a friend.
I don’t know what I’m saying—
that was a Harvard trainee.
Let’s be blunt about this:
can we support Israel,
and they treat Palestinians like shit?
They are the oppressors.
Oh my goodness a homegrown flag:
the Palestinians weren’t there before Israel.
They became a nation under Israel’s cause.
Now they’re out to do harm,
indiscriminately killing civilians,
or that’s the show they put on
when they got out of their fence.
I mean they murdered.
It hurts doesn’t it?
The Palestinians want to show you
what it means to be Palestinian,
where Jewish means Israel.
That harms.
Okay we put Hamas in the kitchen and praise them.
You inhuman bastards,
is that how you gain freedom?
We don’t know.
We just hate ourselves
and see a Jew and want to kill them.
That’s the dry land:
we can’t kill Jews.
We shoulder our own freedom.
It must work among ourselves
before it goes outwards.
How is this done?
I have a naked little boy and don’t rape him.
I pull myself together.
I tie his shoe instead.
A poet will always speak in symbols,
his life the bait.
We learn to stop violence towards our children.
We are gentle and soft with them.
They eat out of our hand,
and we feed them warm and honey.
We do not blister them
with having to hate Jews.
We do not require this of them.
We do not indoctrinate them to kill.
How kind are we to one another?
We let our humanity light up our life.
A stray dog is an opportunity
to give our world some compassion.
We hold each other tightly,
as the brothers and sisters we are.
We do not do violence to one another.
We try to show each other love,
or at least the patience
you give a friend.
We strong arm no one.
We stand up for human rights.
We stop hurting one another.
Then our gliders come in peace.
We show the Israelis what they’re missin’.
We give them reason to respect us.
We brush aside their hatred
with the real human being.
This is all we can do.
War will kill us.
It will enslave our land.
Go to the heart of the conflict,
the hatred of the Jew,
and bury there.
Can you understand these people?
Can you see their plight?
More than a few are good-hearted towards you.
Not all are racists.
Not all think it’s their human right
to be the chosen people.
This is the dragon in the land.
It’s this we must eradicate,
not Jews.
It’s this we must show is wrong,
the essence of Jewish hatred,
the hidden core of their persecution.
We must not bury Jews
or destroy their peopleness.
They are a tower and a might,
and oh we need the Jews.
Can you sink them?
Are you rubbin’ elbows with those who’ve tried?
I think you need new friends.
Even in hell Jews triumphed.
They fight differently than most men.
They fight with their brains.
You’re gonna do them in?
We count on you
to show Israel its humanity.
You are the problem they cannot solve.
Their brains can’t grasp this:
there were a people on their land they took,
and now they must oppress them.
Victim turned victimizer once again,
we can’t see this as human frailty
common to everyone.
So what can you do to Israel that Israel needs to see?
You are a fine people
together in your lot.
You take hardship and spit out pearls.
You sacrifice for those around you.
You take your humanity
and circle the wagons with it.
It’s the way you meet oppression:
you are a noble people,
and therefore hard to abuse.
How would this act
when faced with aggression?
You kill the combatants
to defend yourselves,
and there you’ll win the respect of every nation
and show the world who’s wrong.
I think we complete this
in the issues of the night.
Glory hallelujah it’s dawn.
I thought I’d made you up.
This is a little spark of God in life.
You’ve pointed out the errors
in human ways.
A call to arms,
humanity’s arms,
wow you have children there.
Well spoken said.
Oh statute of limitations,
it’s just a matter of time
the Palestinian cross.
You’re kidding me—
the Palestinian blues.
Those are Greek and Roman myths
made real by human suffering.
It’s a Dispatches’ record
my hullabaloo.
Now they can be up there.
Give me a credit.
I’m pickin’ up the pace.
Gloria in Excelsis Deo. [line heard sung, from “Angels We Have Heard on High”]
Just put boiled rice,
I just put boiled rice.
What did you put in the blue container?
I’m all here bitches, shoot me.
I don’t think you understand the situation.
You’re gonna have to get bigger than you are.
It’s not gonna work killin’ people.
You have to show Israel who’s the human being.
Is your culture up to that,
to self-develop?
You just continue
life along the shores of persecution,
so you can stop its history on you.
This is done slowly.
Every man, woman, and child
must agree to band together
and be good to one another.
This is the team roll.
This is how you begin.
You’ll be working with each other’s subconscious, that’s for sure.
Study your dreams that will help you out here.
You have to learn not to react,
and you have to learn not to be mean.
It’s a process
doable.
It will improve conditions right away.
You’re gettin’ ready to love.
You’re gettin’ ready to be a balanced people.
This is not wishy-washy handshake bullshit.
You do things for one another.
You don’t slap, hit, or cuss out.
You keep hatred out of your voice.
You be the real thing to each other.
You be a friend.
It’s all over your face
when you are.
The Israeli settler
or the Israeli enforcer
will see you a human being,
not a rock throwing mob,
and they will act accordingly,
when they’re embarrassed by their own actions.
You don’t know the bone of contention here.
Will the real humanity please stand up?
You stand up and show Israeli yours.
Obviously if they’re shooting you you can’t,
but barring that.
I’m not talking lambs to the slaughter.
You never surrender your dignity.
You just comply with regulations
a noble human being.
Show them who’s boss,
and it’s not the Jews.
It’s our heartfelt humanity.
It’s our great get along.
I’m liberty speaking,
and you’re looking for that equipment.
I’ve spoken enough to Israel
in a book I’ve left on Amazon—
definite flavor
reconciliation.
It’s not your own state you want.
It’s that:
to live at peace among the Jews equal citizens.
That’s the example Earth needs
to keep our world from blowing each other up.
Can you do that Arab citizen,
Palestinians of Israel,
Palestinians held hostage by Israel,
Palestinians in the land of Israel?
Under the Israeli banner
so bigger
than for Jews and Jews alone,
Palestinians can be free again.
If you look at the roads there’s no other way.
Between Jerusalem I’m Sorry
will point out the crossroads.
It’s a matter of seeing them
and not do anything shameful.
Love towards Israel,
can you fit this into your schedule?
If you’ll be one nation you must.
Put this in your resettlement plan.
Now Palestinian refugee,
give resettlement a chance,
cause there’s a secret ingredient to Israel.
It comes
if we labor together
for a common goal.
The secret ingredient is floating off the top of my head,
and it’s called the home for the human being.
Enough of religious politics.
God is not the wrathful, bigoted, murderer you all suppose.
Find God and see.
It will revolutionize your life,
and you’ll be kind to your fellow man.
Jews will not be the inescapable people,
Muslims will not be the only ones on earth worth.
You have to integrate.
You have to learn to live together.
This is your mandate to each other.
Not big enough
to be only kingpins
Mr. and Ms. Jew.
You have to concede their plight,
so they can see yours.
A resettled human being
has that in their plan:
keeping humanity safe.
You give it
to everybody around you:
safe passage from point A to point B,
and let’s go from there.
One key thing
rule book the exercise
of your warm humanity.
I know this sounds very arranged.
You keep time
I’ll give you something.
I would just love to.
That’s an Israeli learning what it means to be Israel:
really going to court
to learn our humanity.
It’s like you’re free there.
The Mother told them to do that.
That’s hope.
Martin Luther King Jr. at the Controls by Donny Lee Duke
The three best ways to keep a lovin’ song down:
keep it under wraps;
tear it apart;
or get it morally censored.
What will happen to this song?
Change the world
in person.
Chronos’ fuckin’ with ‘im.
What do we do with inner process?
Figure it out?
It’s discrepancy,
and I’m tired of it.
I can’t see anything straight.
What do I do?
Move off campus.
You mean not listen to You?
Don’t dwell on thought.
Don’t just sit there and think.
Try something different.
Image real to yourself.
Play with your thoughts as reality in front of your face.
You’re lookin’ at the world
you’re lookin’ at your thought.
Try this at home.
Image reality to yourself
where people really get your goat
they know you so well.
Try not to open the door with thought.
Be a blank mind.
Stretch this
to infinity.
Don’t stop tryin’.
Your effort is your sadhana.
This is not success or fail.
This is do.
You savvy sweetheart?
I wil try.
As I was sayin’:
I don’t trust inner process
to tell me what to do
in that moment in life.
Otherwise make it happen
to change the world,
and you know it can.
Why resist?
That little boy,
this goes deep,
the relationship I’m having with him.
It’s complicated in poetry.
Our lives are in sync.
We share thoughts and boundaries.
Our inner lives are in sync.
We temple together.
There’s a line of his muse
in my poetry
when he didn’t see it in my poetry.
I hear this and celebrate
close ties,
eyes that join
in inner vision.
Is this too much for him?
He’s just a kid.
I’m glad you asked.
You’re the engineer.
The little boy spills all in front of you.
You teach him how to handle himself,
play poetry,
what his nature house.
I never gave him the thought.
It just occurred
when the Mother,
the Mother and Sri Aurobindo,
they took that boy by the hand.
He became Their disciple.
Would you believe a bolt of lightning hit him in the chest
standing before Their last darshan couch
Supermental Day last?
That’s how it started.
The opening came then.
I was there to facilitate it,
to open him to God.
I am his sadhana master,
and that’s the basis of our relationship.
There’s no monkeys in the house.
I don’t cancel him down.
She’s had the dog
in her parents' room,
when they abuse
where the line are.
When it’s my turn
to be his parental figure,
I’m very careful with those lines.
I know he’s angry
about getting slapped and beat,
threatened with death.
Ice cream
I buy for him every day
in my care.
We talked about that.
We called it moral-minded.
I thought you understood
you don’t raise a kid with rules.
You can,
if you want a kid bound by rules.
I’m the horse guy look at me.
Put it right in your phone,
desire coming up.
Don’t put a hold on it.
Be free and easy with it.
Don’t stay there.
What’ll I do with it?
Put it in the iTunes Store,
avoid that button.
Just sit with it clear and easy.
Don’t let it push you.
Don’t give in to it.
Don’t even tickle your fancy with it.
We don’t beat it.
We sit it out,
wait it out.
It’s not wrong it’s just there.
It’s a smelling salts for reality.
It’s unique to you,
why would you say that?
Everybody has to deal with this.
We regulate it
with a host of laws and penalties
as if they work.
We do not let it be an excuse
for behavior.
Freewill comes into play
we are told.
We disclose it to each other.
We are ashamed by it.
We have children,
we block this sight from our own view.
We don’t see it
in our hands as we wash them,
in our eyes
as we see them so fabulously naked.
It’s there,
and time will show it to you,
if you look.
We run with this?
We don’t eat kids.
They’re special.
They are in the room
when we see it
in ourselves,
when desire comes up.
Desire comes and goes.
It’s in everybody’s life.
It has to be handled.
It has to be seen,
seen real.
We don’t play with it
around our children,
if we can help it.
That leads to dead ends,
and children get spanked and smacked on
and get molested.
You know this is true.
Don’t let it entertain your monkey.
I’ve given other examples
the right way sex can be with kids
in “The Use of Animal Freedom”.
Hear that one,
where sex and kids meet wrong today.
To Rumble’s house
farther to go.
Tamil Nadu,
a door of a red handle,
punch out man.
Tamil Nadu,
stay away from the red door.
Don’t beat your children,
slap them,
punch them around.
They’re precious to you.
Do you hear them scream?
I think this is written all over your paper.
Children don’t have it easy with you.
They suffer.
You don’t know this.
You can’t see your own hands
Mr. and Mrs. Abuse Children.
I call this up from the deeps.
It was that way with me
when I was little.
Now my kid has made me mad,
done something wrong,
or just bothered me.
Then it all comes up again,
my unhappy kid-dom,
and I operate on program.
I don’t care the position he’s in.
I just start slappin’.
I don’t know this hurts him
in his developmental function.
I have that right.
I’m his parent.
Thank you God.
What’s happening here?
Desire has found its home
in a socially approved response mechanism.
It’s condemned on TV.
The presenters themselves
wack their kids
off camera.
I can compare this to touching a vagina
in a little girl’s life,
but you don’t know this is more harmful,
hitting them in the head.
I’m sorry I’ve made you mad.
You don’t know the power of violence over children’s lives.
You don’t know the power of sex over children’s lives.
Both harm.
One gets out the shotgun.
A sexual cannon no.
Mr. and Mrs. Abuse-Their-Kids,
pay attention please.
Where thoughts occur,
it’s not a bright and shiny place,
is laced with uncertainty.
It’s all on holdin’ the world wrong.
You see this you look.
The Whole looks at us.
The fragment looks back.
We are separate beings in time,
an erroneous vision.
Whatta we say about thought?
It arises.
It comes.
It’s there.
And a tenebrous unknown
has the thinker’s brow.
What gulfs lit the night
when we looked at the world for the first time
in the handicap of thought.
It pressurizes time.
It makes of us mincemeat.
It will not stop even for death,
what narrow bridge that is.
You seen it?
How special thought is
to make sense of the world,
to help us help or slay one another,
to give us more feeding room,
to come up with plans,
to turn around and change the world.
It hammers nails
on the fence of time,
held apart in yummy synchronicity,
modes of thought,
and get some answers—
quite the hero.
Do you get me?
I get yah dog.
Put your blue down it doesn’t stink.
It just sits in the powder.
These are the conditions.
You’re talkin’ about that boy, ain’t yah?
Don’t worry,
I have the edification.
I’m gonna spell it out to you.
We have a different choice.
You’re not gonna bust us up.
You’re not gonna hurt him
or me.
You’re not gonna regulate our relationship.
You’re gonna leave us alone.
Humanity needs this vision.
We play the game.
We don’t commode.
We be convenient.
We are open to you.
Two seers in time
startle vision.
We're not gonna compromise vision.
We’re going to remain loyal and true
to our seership.
That boy,
a man he will become.
Housed under my roof?
And in line with his truth.
You can use another poet
who can bring down Earth
on the stars of Heaven,
let them know our plight
and our road beyond them.
Here we’re playin’
some Krishna tune.
We are a bright and shiny love in the wells of time.
We do not make you stink.
We are Heaven and Earth together,
and we are seers of the Sun of Truth.
Throw all that over here,
everything we need to survive,
a protected house
and a place for our dogs.
We need your help.
Without your protection
we get violated
Auroville Media Ashram.
You know we’re your entity,
and we see the master plan as one future Auroville.
It’s up to you.
It’s your movie.
We are the inner you were built on,
5th army,
and we’re here to see the Sun.
There’s no stopping us,
unless you throw away reason
and pin us to the ground.
We’re your seers Auroville,
he and I,
the little boy and me.
Stick with the plan:
Auroville becomes divinized,
and the Yoga works.
Great the visions lay, huh?
Hey, you give thirsty a drink,
and you feed us with your vision.
Okay poets,
do your thing.
It will be misunderstood.
Can a kid change parents if they’re not happy?
What would address the soul need?
Would the parents have a right to say no
if his soul wanted him to leave,
if that were God’s will,
if that’s what the Mother wanted?
I ask you that.
How do you tell that?
First we establish that art,
and art alone,
will show that child’s soul
and the divine will operating in his life,
that art inspired by inner voice and vision.
Can I show it to you?
My grandson wants to live with me.
My little student wants to be near his master.
A seer-poet in training
wants to learn the inner craft.
This is soul arranged,
and I’ll prove it
with poetry written from the inner voice,
the boy’s poetry,
set in a video the boy filmed
just being a kid.
You will see inner process
amazingly match the outside world.
The two are in sync.
I have other prizes to show you,
but this one is the crown achievement today:
“Menu of the Gods”.
Now go
and see this video.
[hover over the last three lines and click]
Will AI better or ruin us? Will it take over or replace us? We go to things unmistakenly horrible. At bottom we blame ourselves. What’s the highest good have to do with it? That’s the poem. It will challenge your sense of good. It will blow the world out from under your feet, and I’m just talking read it. Who owns the official compound? The Helicopters. I’m a first provider.
Harm's End 