Master of a small craft, we inland seas. Our body is our Temple Mount, and we plus it with reality. We put it there to show. How expertly we ride that thing. We got it down. It knows us, bruises to our failings, and it won’t shut up, if we simply tell it to shut up. What’s goin’ on?
Is Spirit realm available? [This line Nithish’s muse, who’s laying beside me listening too] Why are we so tight in there? Why can’t we express ourselves? Well, this poem is about thank you. It works so well, and the browser still with the Lord. I think I’ve got your attention.
Not to the world, not to the process of the world, have I threatened a place among them, pedophiles of the world who molest children.
Have this money in the bank: notes on put them in evenings, the body’s troubles to put on its craft for the day. We cater to it. We don’t meet its needs. We stand around and tell it it don’t meet our needs. We are heavily damaged by it. I can’t do this. It’s in pain.
I hardly doubt that. You are not that. You are here to show you be had. The body is its own big business. It grasps us you see, spends us on its movements, makes us do its call. We can get around this. We can learn ourselves, have the body an ocean that expresses our Spirit. We don’t let it rule us, but we meet it on its boards in proper time, and is our heating that causes death? I’ll hear you later.
How do we spend it rightly? If you notice the whole damn world’s doin’ it: ah, and it’s president of you are safe. You were sleazy. You reach up and home lice. I talked to a talk show host. He’s when you fail.
And you think you’ve completed your list? The Lord figures you know nothing of dogs, field, and snow— infinancy. You knew why I was asking. You wanna know just like they are. The body’s its own mechanism. It has a lord sheep. It calls its own name. It can’t figure out itself, but it’s wonderfully aligned with the principle of its keep, and that is an ocean of soul.
It can climb mountains, earn God in every way. It can be aligned with the stars and become a God-moon. It can harbor divinity and last hundreds of years. It’s evolving into this type the human body. Even now there are whispers on its tops of this great change, and it can listen down below to an exceed itself.
We put it on today unawares of its capacity, ignorant of its morn, and we don’t know its origin and treat it like a deft machine. It can cast awake and throw illness from itself, do away with pain, and object to the roads of accident, and deformity and defect can be gotten rid of when we learn the ways of seed and follow the body’s own plan to begin with.
We can stretch it long through the days and make it hum and sing and field variety. It’s in our voice today. We don’t know how to keep it there so it becomes a living thing. Certainly soup helps. I’m welcome here— exercise talking. But do you know what? It’s all in the head, a directed attitude, a determined faith, a will applied pressure, on the body’s substance, on its lair, its locations of control, that brings us to this door. Inside that door is monumental change.
You don’t know the Blue Book, and I’m helpin’ you along, and I am very happy to. I am one of them: my manhood is Earth. Humanity this must be our star, a delivery to the very nature of Earth, bear with me, when we rise to Supermind, in that distant of our days. Glory to the world the Lord has come. [This and preceding line heard sung by a choir,tune “Joy to the World”] And matter reveals its hidden divinity.
Where do we find the door? Where do we go from here? Even in halls of self-control we are cramped by the body. It’s loud in there. Where do we release it to itself, and it answers nature rightly? Can it joy to itself? How high do I go to land this in the body? I’m just a moment’s sunlight. Do I always forego pleasure for your sake my Lord? Is it always so dry? Here we are in the well, and enlightenment’s satisfaction has not reached us. What do we do?
And it is here we must lift Earth. Can you believe sacrifice? It is transposed upon the world and becomes the day. One man’s sacrifice can still bring the dawn. I can get no tighter than that. I can hear no message clearer. It’s where I am, and it’s what you hear today. We make our body safe. We don’t harm the Earth with it, and we don’t harm our little ones with it, especially our little ones. That dog has boy eyes don’t you see, that cat little girl paws. Oh my sweet blue Earth, are you hearin’ me? Oh my smilin’ green Earth, listen please.
That’s the nature of reality, we stay the way for our children. We stay the way for love. We go the distance, and we go to God. Did you hear me Israel? Listen, I’m sure if you steal, it will turn our rooms into a disaster area. It will end up affecting us all.
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]
You give healing meat its substance.
You’re way out there,
right in the slot of truth.
I don’t think anyone understands this.
You’re a miracle:
nobody’s touched you;
all the help you get.
You really show people somethin’.
Most people don’t know it’s there.
They’re too based in ordinary.
Okay we climb mountains,
keep goin’,
just press on.
We’re goin’ somewhere.
I hoped you a-l-w-a-y-s thought me u-g-l-y,
you thought me friend. [this and above line heard sung in the voice of Don Williams to tune of "You're My Best Friend"]
Our best teacher,
we’re talkin’ soul.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Think Oil.
You hear soldier.
Oh man you don’t stink.
You’re chasin’ a good one.
Okay you got the preamble.
I would like soul need determine time.
I want to talk on the level of soul.
Where do we bring this out?
Is it evident anywhere?
How do we talk about soul?
Do we meet it with the divine?
Where’s it goin’?
Where’s it come from?
How long it’s been?
Does it explain us?
What is about soul that makes its process?
Does it rule time?
Where can it be found?
Is it perfect?
Can we touch it?
How does it find us?
Is that all there is?
How do you add it to the program?
Can we say it’s substance?
How big is it?
Does it search us?
What are its parameters?
Can we get at it?
Is it Black,
or would all colors fit its lifestyle?
Is it here among us?
When does it die?
Is it our only project?
How did it get here?
How do we communicate with it?
Does it know us
as the thing that does?
Is it our true nature?
Is this soul a concept or a divine?
And we go round and round.
The soul asks more questions than it answers,
but we can look at it.
Can you?
It’s here.
I think it’s from another planet.
It’s put us on.
That planet’s another sphere,
the reality behind reality.
We are its goalkeepers.
We fumble ourselves all the time.
We don’t know how to do it,
take soul and measure up.
It’s the substantial reality behind us.
It’s put itself here.
I think that’s phenomenal existence.
The soul is a dome
phenomenal existence fits inside.
It was here first.
I don’t think we cant touch it with our hands.
It’s not the reality we see.
It’s got our backing.
Where do individual souls fall in?
Let’s say they’re here.
This is not pepper spray.
You can help put ‘im on
that things might get hurt.
This is the ballpark.
Hello soul—
this is an individual flavor of existence.
It’s got cans on it.
They go through time.
That’s the flavors it carries around.
It’s expressing your life.
See the flavors?
All these tunes
express our life to us.
So many layers to the soul.
It’s a great big getaway.
There’s nothin’ else to it;
it’s the ground of its own being.
It represents us in time,
and we are representative figures
of this thing called soul.
We express it everyday,
and our body is its leeway.
A deformity,
an ugliness,
awful, isn’t it?
You’ve needed that to get along.
If you look at the world as a container,
that doesn’t fit.
All things are expressive of soul,
even the ugliness.
The world touches you there
like it’s probing you.
Awful, isn’ it?
Keep going.
This expresses you,
the dynamics of this life.
You’re carrying that with you
for an example set.
You have to learn from this example.
It’s so pressing,
and it’s so physical.
I think everybody knows I love little boys.
How ugly is that?
I am one case where the focus
bounced off the movie.
Sure enough he was.
I came to souls in the room.
They were everywhere.
Try fucking a soul.
They don’t want you to do that.
You don’t abuse a soul.
You just don’t.
It’s the basis of reality.
It’s got bigger than life.
There’s no abuse possible.
Are you expressing soul when you abuse somebody?
You’ve stopped doing it
a soul becomes visible.
We are all relating souls.
They transcend time.
You cannot harm them.
Violation is impossible.
Life is a field for the soul to work out deities.
The human soul is not divine.
It’s something more fundamental.
It’s the substance of deity.
We don’t hinder it
as it brings deity to the human room.
It’s expressive of deity.
It helps us put that on.
That’s our purpose here.
Can you see the soul bringing up life?
This is the arisal of everything.
The substance of soul has a field to play.
It’s putting on itself
in ever increasing rooms.
I don’t think you can touch bottom
of the soul’s play.
Can you imagine infinities within infinities within infinities?
And here we are in our room.
So much accompanies us,
so much to do.
Where do we go with this?
Towards the substance of soul.
We layer ourselves.
What has made it to the surface
is a little play in time,
this little portion of us
we so mistakenly confuse with us.
It has all of us behind.
My God the soul,
it’s there in the room
the container of existence.
Jerrycans of abuse,
I was the orphanage.
That’s our predicament here.
We’re bastard children
a mommy and a daddy have left behind.
We can’t see our divine parents.
Divine origins allude us.
We only know we’re here
getting spanked by time,
clusterfucked.
We don’t know how to stop abusing one another.
We just don’t know how to help one another.
This is a horrible place.
It’s a prison house.
It just sucks us,
and time’s got its finger up our ass.
Dry, lifeless orgasms
is where life meets us.
We are probed.
I say again we are probed.
Our greatest joy can turn to pain
in the happenstance of death
everywhere surprises us.
We are dangerous keepers.
We can’t trust anyone.
Real amateurish
your whole monstrous tirade.
No, and I like it,
but I’m waking up.
The policy of monsters
we are bring to ourselves.
Are you really waking up?
Jeremiah 19:9 the most monstrous of all.
Do you know what?
The city didn’t rush in to defend you.
I’m curios to know why it didn’t.
You’re a monster.
They are making names
to make sense of their city.
It’s purple passion
not heart attack.
I had a hate here with wine.
This is the poison we all drink,
to be to ourselves our city is good.
Now are you ready for Christmas?
And here comes the soul.
That’s what keeps us together,
keeps us from falling apart.
It’s music you hear on the radio
when the world had just caved in,
and you know that song's talking to you
everything’s gonna be okay.
It’s that sudden smile you get
from some perfect stranger,
and it’s like a kiss from Heaven
because the rain has come.
It’s your mommy’s warm hands
washing your tender parts
not wanting anything for herself,
and you are seven or eight.
It’s an ice cream truck
comin’ round the corner,
and you have just enough for a cone.
It’s the great big beautiful sun
shining down on you
like you mean somethin’.
It’s the breeze
wiping the sweat off your face,
and you have just run.
It’s the lovely afternoon
your family sang,
and you will never forget those moments.
It’s your father’s satisfied hands,
and you’re his little boy in them
wanting so to be like papa.
I’ve embroidered soul
where life keeps you,
and it’s good.
This is the backup plan.
This is our special moment.
This can ride the day
if we lean forward
and let the soul lead.
It’s all about soul,
the house of life.
I’m afraid
the depths you have to go to find that
are deeper than the world.
You hear that
these are possible inner journeys.
You go inside,
consciously, thoroughly,
until you reach soul.
Did you know you can find it?
A conscious arm
you fall into it.
I think unconsciously we arrive there often,
else we would die I’m afraid
cut off from soul.
We have to come up for air.
This world is a heavy dress.
We take it off
in moments sublime of dreamless sleep.
I bet you didn’t know that noon.
In raw material sleep
we can find the drop off point of matter
and soul dream
larger than time.
We have journeyed to the soul.
It’s not a substance material make.
It’s the first substance of Spirit,
and it’s got no bookends to it.
A receptacle of our Spirit open and true,
that’s the phenomenon of soul.
This is the causeway.
This brings us to Ourself.
This brings us to the divine meeting in the room.
May come some horses
with some contrary will.
Yeah exactly.
What is adequate?
Is that adequate
in the fatal moment,
in the fatal heartbeat here?
Soul expressive of deity,
that’s meaning
that has us all by the horns.
Cans.
Go ahead drive her,
drive her over.
Pay attention to people.
You want a soul
happen so matter of fact.
Now let’s come back.
We have to put on soul.
If you sat regular times…
Bruno!
You always have to watch out for Bruno.
He’ll take your underwear off.
You have to do a preacher’s build.
You check in
and withdraw.
You look out,
and the watch ends
on visible things.
You have to come together on soul.
You have to see beyond life.
There,
it has your hand.
Let it lead you now.
You have to get somewhere in life.
The soul is your regard.
It will take you to deity.
It will remove all obstacles.
It’s your great ship.
It’s the navigator.
It comes to you in dreams
and exercises the world
tonight,
and you can see things clearly.
We help it along
by being ourselves.
That’s Alpha Zero,
enlightenment stark.
This is its great evolution path,
and we are fingers of its evolution.
We do not abandon us,
and we help each other clearly
when we come together on soul.
There’s where the abuse stops.
There’s where we know our promise,
for it is the soul that leads us.
The soul we are,
the substance of ourselves
leading ourselves.
I’ve called on you tonight
to be the witness of soul.
It is bigger than leeway.
It is so much bigger than time.
It’s us in the ground of us.
No gap, no divide,
prevents it from helping us.
It’s here.
It is only blindness separates us from it,
and check it out in a poem.
You know I’ve opened your eyes.
Should end right there,
I’ve told you violence.
I just turned and turned around and saw the soul.
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.
Harm's End 