Not Written to Where They Sell My Muse

photo by Lydia, Dylan’s mother, ban image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay
I tried to find people of substance to testify with me.
I just heard my bottom line turn not which but for my soul.
“Yeah I’ll be right there.”
He was to make
“me, I don’t care.”
He is at this stage the little boy.
He’ll bring him in in another place,
and that boy cares about his room.
It’s been set up for baby.
Ohhhhhh,
as in
that’s an amazing
fieldwork with the little in the house.
God cares.
He snuck in the lunch.
Yes that was weird:
a sudden host of angels lined the room.

Angels,
when you are in a film,
they see what you’re doin’.
I’m happy about that.
I’m not wrapped in golden chains.
I love the highway.
I love the freeway.
I’m not mindin’ my own business.
I do a lot of lookin’
in the inner chambers of people,
all who’s connected with my room
as they star in their own show—
breakin’ bread together,
and it’s just the outfield in my room.
I put on my clothes.

Now I’m a witness of tomorrow,
and I don’t think you’ve seen that yet.
Look with Dylan.
He’s about to turn two.
I spend the day with him a time or two a week,
really in soft with his mother how to do that.
You walk on tippy toes around that kid.
You let him lead.
You follow,
and you just see him all together soon.
You focus, concentrate, on that kid,
right where he’s developin’,
and the voice come out
“I am so glad you’re seeing me.”

You give him everything he wants
that doesn’t hurt him
or make him mean.
You know you have to
balance this with society’s rules.
It’s what we make them for:
we need a functioning society.
Now what happens when he’s off base,
a naked kid in a mud hole?
Clean dirt don’t mind,
well water,
and there are no snakes and spiders around,
biting insects.
You let him enjoy himself,
makin’ mud pies,
smearin’ mud all over himself,
splashin’ and a splashin’ and a splashin’.

The Rottweiler near him smiles.
She understands mud.
I am making sure he has the freedom to do it.
Money from Heaven,
I love to see him play.
It’s a stadium room.
We are bound by so many witnesses.
I can feel them in my sleeves.
I wanna get at the new creation,
and I see with children we do that.
I study them,
hopin’ to find tomorrow.
I am bound and limited in my time,
and someone else owns that kid.
I can only do so much.

I gave Nithish a brand new room,
for a day,
a kid now 13
I lost last year.
It all crumbled.

The new creation fell apart.
He was reamed
viciously by his parents,
until he lost all his Heaven.
They punished him for his spirituality,
and he lost all sense of it.
He’s told me he has no feelings now
and would like to kill people if he could.
That’s very far from grace,
and I accuse God about it all the time,
the Mother and Sri Aurobindo.

What we did
cannot be repeated in a laboratory.
It’s too much
where we put spiritual influence.
Laboratory conditions can’t copy that.
Because I’m not there,
on the ground,
the kid is just in a black straight jacket,
and I can’t get near ‘im.
I can’t get this across to anyone.
There is no need of me they see.
I’m a foreigner in India,
and that’s all they see.
This is a racial country
I just sit and bleed.
Even if someone would turn him towards me,
I’m a police major.
Write it down
hey I like kids,
and I’ve stepped on their shoes in the past,
and now I know what they need?

It’s a honey table,
and the most skeptical person
would find me right with kids
if they followed me around with one.
I know what I’m doin’.
But I would not like the interference to tell you the truth,
and we wouldn’t be focused on child development.
It would be watching me.
How do I show you this honey dog?
You can’t blame me for tryin’.
I want my boy back
so he can grow up
as tall as his destiny calls for,
and I want Dylan
to be assured I’m there,
and no one will take me away.
These are troubled times.

So we play eggs,
these hot air balloons
I sudden you with
so’s you can see
I’m not red in my room.
It’s a feelin’ test.
I’m givin’ you the means to look in there
wide open feelin’.
A seer would see a honey perch,
laughter and commodity for the child.
I arm there.
It’s not a black bag.

Now what’s the commodity in my room?
It’s soul change.
I’m learnin’ the soul take over,
and that’s the honey for the child
I want them in contact with
so with their souls they stay in touch;
they don’t lose that sweet easiness
that makes them joys at life,
and that’s our leadership with children,
the soul ever takes presence.
Can you find that?

It’s too abstract to you,
or most of you,
or it’s some made-up notion
we force in life’s cupboard.
It’s the contact with life
at its most basic.
It’s what we deal with
as children
that never forgets childhood,
and we love bein’ a child.
It’s what we lose when we grow up
that we call innocence and candor
and silliness and so on.
We lose that touch with our souls,
the sweetness that can forgive everyone,
even if they’ve just whipped your butt.
You remember that?

I’m all about it,
and I meet the souls of children
with my own.
Funny how you do that.
You just be kind with them
and ever present,
as the big dog sittin’ there
that just wants them safe.
That’s what you do with children,
open up their hearts with love
and make them feel safe and special.

Dylan doesn’t respond yet
to anyone
to get out of his own mood,
but he comes when I call,
and that’s what we spent the day doin’.
Self-Absorption do you see that dog sittin’ there?
Luna baby loves you.
And Self-Absorption looks up at me in play
and gives me a smile full of eye contact,
grinnin’ from ear to ear,
and it lights up the sun
and gives me the joy of the world.
And he comes and takes my hand
and leads me to what he wants to do,
and he’s developin’ friendship
and social contact.
We have fun together.

Listen,
you can’t fool an angel.
What’s on with you
when a child is under your care,
when you play with kittens?

The Pumpkin

photo by Dhina, Dylan’s father
The Void fashions thought,
gives it the clothes you wear.
We bury the world there.
We’re all over each other
in drowning reality,
and each one of us wears woe is me clothes
tryin’ to describe our reality to another,
even if we don’t feel that way.
It’s the default among us.
Just read some poetry and see.
It won’t lift you to the skies,
poetry club after poetry club.
Do you know how bottomless this is?

I don’t know where to end this.
By Dylan’s side.
I don’t think he’s learned to be sad yet
as his disposition.
He’s two,
and I wear him on my sleeves today
his minder,
really protecting his freedom,
no anger, no swats,
and no is not a word I cram down his throat.
I like his natural freedom
and his natural state of joy.


Where does it come from?
I can sit in the same tub and not be happy.
He’s an expert at this.
He knows where the joy is,
the merger inside of him with his environment.
I don’t think we’ve reached a separate Dylan yet
all in his own clothes.
The joy is phenomenal.
He just screamed and looked at me,
and I gave a pirate’s laugh.
I like the sound of joy.

His frank littleness operates on my moods,
and I can taste his taste with the world.
You have to hold on
there’s stickers there.
The world will grab you,
and all falls down.
You have to be careful there,
and everything has eyes you know,
even the water bucket.
How amazing this is.
I coo
and talk to those eyes
a speech pre-language wears.
Identified with Dylan
with a poet’s laugh,
I’m in his jolly roger don’t you see?

Now what happens when we’re three?
Identity with the world please,
it no longer storms our room.
I could be seven,
and joy becomes something monumental
we chase the dogs with.
It’s not homegrown anymore.
It’s not our natural state.
We’ve put on man.

I’m on poet’s wings,
and I’m identified with what’s in front of me.
You can’t do this writing about your make up.
It’s how we discover the world,
reaching poet wings
reaching the starlight,
where God sees everything glow.
It put us together in ancient times,
grabbed civilization out from the paws of nature,
a poet’s look guide,
and we’re born you and me
so much’d civilized clothes,
and a poet born language don’t you know.
It came from the skies
added to our feet down below.

Where’s all this goin’?
And we write it down in speech,
great big letters of world maker’s art
that came in vision or dream,
and we fountain a language with it.
A poet saw that.
I’m not here to hear you scream,
and kill all these damn flies.
That’s the muscle we wear.
The poet has the architect of civilization
we grasp here.
You don’t know from on high.
You don’t know these robes.
I’m speechless.
Yeah, you would be.
Well I be damned.

The chaos of the toddler,
it writes your poem.
They don’t know dirty,
and they have no sense of mistake.
They don’t know danger.
A grandpa’s life is dangerous,
and he gave that toddler reach.
It’s not playin’ with the same cars
of a society toolkit.
They meditate together
on meaning.
The boy feels the rush.
It’s living.
I can’t draw your papers from here,
but I’m showin’ yah how we’re made.
I can’t explain it to yah
so that you wear the same cars,
but I accelerate growth.

That’s not dangnabbit,
or any role of violation.
It’s where that guy sees the stars.
Are you with me on this?
For a nice mental health,
where it counts,
it’s in that toddler child.
You don’t want to falter there.
They’re bright and shiny objects from the universe,
and they just love to play.
They don’t need a hard time.

Just organize them
the storybook of the universe,
and they mean something more
than I am tired,
irritate me one more time and I’ll slap you,
or I’m horny please me.
Don’t be confused with their gatherin’.
There’s a child there with their tall eyes
bein’ the Earth for you,
and every touch counts,
and they love to be touched and cuddled.
They wear your fingers
for the rest of their lives,
your harsh tone,
your can’t take it anymore.
All of humanity needs to see this.

Listen,
it’s not possible today is it?
This is too cutting edge.
This is too model.
Don’t take their joy away.
Let them be rising and kind and kids
by you’re conducing a sacrifice
for their wellbeing.
Can’t you see this Paul
when you get home from work,
and you’re tired,
and momma there in the kitchen,
that meal’s better than that child?
And we can reverse the roles and do the same thing
or join them.
What would daycare say?
Keep them busy no.
Let them occupy themselves
with whatever,
and watch them there.
We want them to organize themselves,
no just obey masters
and do what they’re told.

Can you see my thought’s skies?
We don’t want a subservient human being.
We want society to challenge the world.
We want a greater world bear.
We are on earth for no other thing.
How could you argue with yourself?
Beginning right now,
make that toddler’s world better
by your lovin’ hands and freeze,
no shouting, no hitting,
no inappropriate hands.
Goo Goo and Ga Ga,
they just inherited the world,
and it was nice to them.
Oh man see this.

Make a child’s day.
Make every moment count.
Can yah?
Will yah?
It’s growin’ up to be you.
A vehicle burned by society’s ways,
a damaged vessel,
do you really wanna put that on that kid?
Let them play in the dirt and mud.
They’re not going to murder themselves,
hurt society with it.
Aren’t you right there
to prevent mouthfuls
and rocks up their nose?
They’re testin’ time,
where all the dirt goes.

Aren’t you glad you see that,
their special put together?
It makes for good kids,
lettin’ them be the little animals they are
when they’re two,
no inhibitions,
not feedbacks.
They’re beautiful little tigers,
and we give that little creature kindness
and consideration
in every mood they wear.
We just don’t let them tear up the ship,
or express their violence towards other people
and puppy dogs,
and we teach them to be kind to ourselves
with the kindness we give them,
and who would let a toddler hurt himself?

You gotta be swift and fast,
and you’re gonna make mistakes.
The little monster’ll test your patience,
the little cuddly bear.
You’re farmin’,
know that,
and you determinin’ that child’s life.
A great big heavy thing in life,
we shape our children by our touch and mood,
and the most important time’s before three,
monumental she wrote.
I’m infinity’s cards,
and I’ve just showed you the spasm of life,
where it most counts:
hey baby,
oh you new thing.
Can you dig it?

It’s the living fetal position for animals,
the punishment chair.
Stop this motion.
Order the pens to our insight.
I was thinking first of Dylan.
I didn’t chatter my teeth there.
My comfort,
his parade,
he got the money’s worth.
I can’t spell this out for you.
It’s long on time.
What do we do with him,
pull his pants down and shoot ‘im,
arrange him in the corner,
blister his butt?
Let’s call him kings,
and you’re his subject
most of the time.
Can you get that?

Wow he’s free
to make decisions
that don’t harm him.
You’re followin’ him around a puppy dog.
Did I just say something mean?
It is exhausting,
but you’re right there
as he explores the world.
Too wild to keep,
my parents put a dog there,
highly efficient at watching me.
Outside he followed me everywhere.
I brought some of the memories back.
Can you believe he talked?
Used all the sounds a dog makes
to convey meaning.
Boy get away from there.
You stop that behavior at once.
It was a pleading sound with authority.

Buckshot was extraordinary,
a big dog from army parents,
half Shepard half Collie.
He came from a military base.
Can you see it?
We’ve been doin’ it all along
in our homes and in our backyards,
but we can make it an official duty of mankind,
train dogs to watch kids.
The little one’s too exhausting to keep up with.
They need special care,
and a good dog can give it.

Am I meaning here?
Do you know how much this helps the child?
The love of a dog
opens up society to them
in the ways of love,
and if it’s a lone child,
they pay attention to another person in their play.
Let’s put a handle on their selfishness shall we?
That big dog can protect itself
and is a sense on the world we don’t.
The consciousness shares
between a dog and child,
that’s the link right there,
but I’m gettin’ far ahead of you.
You don’t know you do this with Dog.
We are more than their masters,
and they are our children.

Buckshot grows.
Would you believe he’d take my hand in his mouth
and lead me back to the house
if I passed the invisible barriers that said too far?
There was a dog there
on his way to human.
You don’t know that’s what dogs are doing with us.
In the evolution of soul
they become man
after climbing the latter of Dog.

What did you think they were doing with us?
I put dogs in the throne room too,
kids with fur and tail
and adorable ears.
There was this hole in evolution,
and we created Dog
to fill it
when we were ready in soul,
when we became men and women firm enough on the ground
to fill it.
At the role of civilization,
and then came Dog.

I’ve gotten angry again,
and I just shut it off and move on,
apologizin’ profusely to that kid.
How is this learned?
The heart is open to soul.

The heart is open to that kid.
Profound love dwells there
that can heal anything.
Careful with that soul.
I guess I’m a witness
that you let out.
I’m not an icicle.
I am love everywhere found,
deep feelings of release
into the sincerity of the moment.

You are love there
watch your nose,
and you obey your nose
no longer.
You’re not led by the nose anywhere.
You’re compelled to soul choices,
complete understanding
not offended by anything,
and where you find love
you find the wisdom to use it
to correct that child,
the strong love that knows its pants
that can say no to things that harm
and make that child know he caused it
without those feelings of guilt that block remorse.

You surface the soul you know.
It’s what takes over
as you’re doin’ it,
a sadhana out of ego.
It heals.
It wears a crown.
It makes everything right.
That’s what we’re doin’ here,
being soul,
a manual for the new millennia,
how to be safe with our kids
in diapers and into the terrible twos,
and they’re comin’ unto themselves threes and fours.
We are expensive with the toddler,
lavish on them
our heartfelt attention,
and that’s the history of science
that makes a better world.

We need a role model,
and I’ve lifted up a poem for you
that comes from higher sources,
the role of a poet,
a special use of language wear,
and poetry that I have,
I’ve returned us to our origins,
where the poet revealed to us the world
and gave us strong ideas how to live in it.
It be compatible
with what the world needs.
I can’t account for its audience,
but here take another poem.

We walked out a miracle.
We walked out back.
Did yah listen?
The applications are enormous.
I am in any thought
you use to harbor children.
A family of pioneers asks a lot about a new generation.
Well I’ve got that orbit.
I’m asking me this I’m asking you:
what’s conducting God in our filthy experiment?
The eyes of the child.

The pictures,
we’re gonna keep looking,
and another FMG,
it was on the film net.
Would you cause me to live?
I’ve gone further than I am,
and I don’t feel badly about it.
Broadly I read you.
You know Stoppa was running.
They didn’t know what they were doing.
This was the parade.
I’m tellin’ yah I’m sorry.
I'm not fighting wars with children anymore.
Can you get a load of that redemption?
Be hostile where joy was,
their glasses
whole birthplace humanity
right on time.
Good afternoon.

The change in consciousness ahead,
get me my improvement
I’ve penned these days.
Why would I be running from it?
See a bullock cart,
I can’t get out of this view.
Got some dirt,
it springs into anxiety.
I put it
on the lawn
and deal with it.
I don’t know exactly when it happened,
the line of consciousness drawn.
I’m a senior builder.
Stopness,
seriously wellbeing,
birth has a lot more to do with it than nature.
Is that so?
I gave a poem
that talks about
relief.
I’m not gonna pull it to my pants down.
Were you like a screwdriver yet,
you’re used?
Can I answer that question?

And the Vehicles of Discernment

Where autism rides,
nobody believes in it,
and the vehicles crash.
Madness in America gave us this lay:
autism comes from television
and screen time.
I laugh at every little thing. [sing line]
This is the public mind.
Where do we go with it?
We can’t take it anywhere
in the fundamentals of ourselves
where we’ve encountered the unknown.

I’m dancin’ on thin ice.
I think this is the public construction of our ego today,
or whatever you call that we are now,
how it’s made,
where it comes from.
Everybody’s ignorant here.
Nobody knows what’s goin’ on,
and nobody cares.
Too many other concerns crowd the show.

How do I introduce you to you?
Let’s take your dream last night
the closer you are from waking up,
when you’re patterning on dreamless sleep.
You’ve gotten down that far.
This is really weird.
The forms bite you.
They do not contain waking life
in anything recognizable
except maybe a sandwich you’re a part of,
that you’re being eaten by.
They are larger than machine.
They swallow you whole.
You were merged with that odd substance, weren’t you?
The separate self was hanging in thin air.
You didn’t recognize it yet.
You were the forms you saw,
and you are all mixed up.
You couldn’t tell yourself,
but you were there.

Have you ever woken up from this
merged dream content?
It’s oddly familiar.
You feel basic with it,
like you’re on a slab of reality
you’ve know before,
when you first woke up from sleep,
somewhere in womb-time,
but I think after we’re born the show begins,
when we hold the world tight
indistinguishable from it.
We are merged in our identity
with all around us,
but the body localizes us
in our surroundings,
and we are so bodily there.
Mommy and springtime,
that’s the season we wear.
Her face, her touch,
her smell,
we know those are safety measures,
and we don’t know much else.
It depends upon the daddy.
Some are right there,
and it doesn’t have to be a parent.
I can’t give you the lists
without breakin’ ‘em up.
We’ve got to talk about the thing.

I think slowly we wake to the blows of life,
its insistence on its kin,
and we separate ourselves from our environment
slowly,
little by little.
You can see this happenin’
if your look’s engaged.
That sense of separate self is precious
a wee one becomes a person in.
Are you three
when you’ve balanced life
and can give a wink to other people
here I am, here I am, how do you do? [sing line, popular nursery rhyme]

I’ve just studied your rabbit.
You think you’re localized in space
a separate consciousness in time.
No, that’s learned.
Now put all this in a TV show,
some stupid video,
and you see what you got.
I can’t distinguish myself from time and space
to begin with.
Now add another layer,
the absurd,
the inane,
the chocolate freeze cake,
and some children don’t make the match.
They can’t distinguish themselves in time,
and spectrum autism
makes them their relationship with the world.

One in 36 is it?
Anyway it’s huge.
I can babysit
a two-year-old,
and I don’t have consciousness breathin’ down my neck.
I make contact with the kid
casually.
I understand his price.
I see him there
pullin’ himself out of the world,
tryin’ to make himself work in it.
I dream about him,
have him in vision.
We have open lines of communication,
and I don’t wanna mess it up,
that delicate balance he has with the world
as he’s findin’ himself in it.

No extra touches when I wash his penis,
no emotions in my hand,
and I’m careful with that anus.
(I have no sexual desire for the child.)
I think these are where he is localized now
as the body reaches the sky,
right there at the birth of thought.
No they are not the majors in the room
that determine his life.
There’s just so much feeling there,
and feeling’s what it’s all about
when you’re two.

I’m crowdin’ in on your crash course in reality.
I’m tellin’ yah how it’s made,
our sexual preference,
our sexual alliance with the world.
We can become gay or straight,
pedophile or necrophiliac,
and the list goes on,
and we can this and that
or just someone who harass women,
touch them somewhere
they don’t know where it’s at,
respect,
and if you wanna rapist touch them more momma.
An old movie,
don’t worry;
I’m taking it to see daylight.
It won’t take long.

We need good parental hands
with everybody who handles them,
our genitals.
The equations will reach the sky
with anybody who touches them,
or squeezes them against ourself
in diaper rub.
Add some kissin’ on top of that,
real romantic feelings
with some male role model,
and if you’re boy you’re gay.
Watch and see.
I just let the cat out of the bag.
Can you see it?

Autism spectrum disorder,
it’s not the only thing that comes out of our threes.
Every touch counts.
Every moment’s involved with us.
A screaming parent,
two fighting parents,
and that’s joined in our identity don’t you see?
You got it all wrong.
Those years count the most,
and they’re the hardest to bear,
aren’t they?
Hit that child and see
you’ve got a child there
the world has slapped by,
and they’ve been betrayed by everybody.
Can’t you see it on their face?
Don’t you know it’s in their pain?

I love you Dylan.
I really do.
Anyway,
there, I’ve done it,
showed you reality.
Can you get my dig?
Cryin’ all the time, [sing line, from the song “Hound Dog”]
no.
We wipe their tears with our love,
always addin’ to the world
their place in it,
and the roles are clear,
and that’s heavy, ain’t it?

I can bring understanding
to many roles in your life
and to horrible times.
I can do that.
When you even begin to walk,
we’re gettin’ some stuff done.
We’re gettin’ some stuff done put well on you.
Like what can you do
if nobody wants to be well?
Kid you know
travel love,
and make that the aim of life
the immediacy of this moment.

May all your memories and all your steps,
may they be easy.
Okay,
I’ve tuned you to the ages.
That explains it,
what went wrong.
Daddy, daddy! [vision of Dylan standing and turning to look at me and saying this]
Come there
even for your own purpose.
You know as well as I know
the movies,
trauma is almost illegal I’m carrying
to bring Dylan through this touch and screen of madness,
someone
experiencing the world
his play bubba,
his romance,
his mastery,
and we all look for spiritual change,
don’t we?
Evolution,
it’s what’s you do with a kid.
It be like
huggin’
sha-la-la, la-la, la-la, la-la, la-la tee-da [sing line, song “Brown Eyed Girl”]
and never gettin’ caught in it.
You’re free.
Why would you want to take a child anywhere else?

Chase the Button

Special thanks for this moment— Bruno. At his side, he getting a life-saving blood transfusion, I wrote the poem
The most gates at society,
hey!
Propped on the sand
in an eurythmic sweet sense,
I look at humanity in raw oysters.
There’s nothing there
that makes us rise above our bull.
We get decimated sometimes,
and the humility lasts an hour.
I don’t understand all this mess.
It’s popcorn and candy
to our sense of self
tryin’ to prove our worth to one another.
Look how big I am,
and we can say that so subtly.
I mean look at me will yah?

Can we spend this?
It’s expensive not to see.
I count this in humanity
in everywhere I wait,
in all the plays of the crowd.
I want to get bigger than myself.
Little everybody treats me,
and I’m offended in my self-wears,
and little I am.
I can’t seem to see this
when I’m in a fight.
I don’t know how to handle it
when I’m spellbound.
Can I list my achievements please?
Can I show you my worth,
again?

Do I have to eat lunch with myself again?
You’re not listening to me.
If I was two I’d pitch a fit.
That’s where I learn to get you to pay attention to me.
I get expert at it
by the time I’m twelve,
and then all hell breaks loose,
and I’m just shit-canned again,
too old to get my way.
Is that when the braggin’ starts?
I have got to show you I’m worth,
but I’ve lost all the old ploys,
and I’m doin’ it again,
wantin’ you to validate my self-worth
the modicum of humanity.

Is that all turned on
to kick-start our humanity,
the pedestal I preach to you?
Wow, I can sound so good in words.
Do I hide behind my writing
I knock down every word I say
in some pinch or another
that my hypocrisy wears?
The hypocrisy of others stuns me.
I’ve never seen anything like it
anywhere on the planet.
There is no accountability for it.

Wow do I read sweet words.
Can you solve the problem with love without love?
You just get likes for it.
Nowhere does it bring social change.
The social understanding that you’re the victim too,
my God that’s the pants we wear.
Get people arrested will yah?
That’s all you’ve done.
You’ve crime and punishmented the thing.
Everybody gets mad at people.
It’s how you social change,
with a baseball bat,
but we can’t hypocrisy our way out of this.
Love has to be love or it’s not love.
Understanding holds you sweet.
It doesn’t embarrass you in front of the crowd.

Where do we go with our social understanding
to see the lies arise in everybody
where we find our brotherly love?
Can you understand that?
I can’t cover this.
I can’t even say it.
You just write beautiful words.
You don’t mean them,
and there’s no way to show you you don’t.
You’ve got that covered.
You can’t see them
in the arms they wear.
You can make yourself sound pretty good,
but unconscious springs get yah
when the spell of your unconscious arise
and offers your behavior to meanness.

There is not a day I don’t encounter this
in somebody.
You’ve encountered a rat
in everything society says about me.
The principles of love and pray don’t apply here,
and you have permission to shoot me
in your thought,
and that’s a release mechanism
like all society wears.
If I even say the name you’ll hate me,
and there is no way out of this.

I could have done a better poem
and kept my social status out of this,
but we can’t spend your hypocrisy on nothin’.
You’re just bruise your shield
in that unspeakable name.
Now where you at?
I don’t think it’s in loving shares.
Oh you do your family alright,
a satellite I,
but to love humanity you must wear
everything in humanity you hate,
identifying with that behavior.
It don’t come out any other way,
the principle in your subconscious
communicating that spell
“oh I’ve encountered someone I don’t like,”
and in the roles of identity
you have to know you’re there:
I am humanity.
This gets larger than everybody,
but you can’t find it
without accepting everybody.

The roles are mean,
even in children,
and I need to see this in myself,
and I bridge it that way
to its appropriate goodness.
You hear this now.
I’m taking myself and getting myself out of the way,
not for any humanity worth,
not so you can see me.
I just want to be myself, okay,
the actual me,
the thing I am behind the play,
not yet angel wings,
but the natural me
that’s not stuck to anything
that can afford to be nice
because nice is what it does
our human soul,
and nary a subconscious spell can touch it,
no matter where you meet life.

The basement’s all cleaned out,
and this comes down from on high,
if you want to know the truth of it.
You can’t just declare your love.
You have to raise it up out of you
in the skeletons you wear.
Can you get my pen rose?
Can you hear it please?
You have to get down and dirty and clean,
at least in the eyes you wear.
Whatever you do,
see it.

I’m gettin’ down to the natural colors of my room.
Do you hear that?
Look at yourself some mirror.
Roles involved with sweetness,
and you’re being bigger than the heys of the crowd.
Just don’t recognize that’s where you want mental health to go.
Good for her,
good for him,
take advice.

You’re Hearin’ Dylan

Another life on earth,
we enter that life today.
Can you believe I’m 21?
I sit in bathtubs and smile,
holdin’ onto speech that has not come.
I’m butt naked,
and no one sees me.
I haven’t entered society yet.
I think my penis said that.

I lift my voice and sing
syllables that make sense to me,
and my truck,
my God my red truck,
it’s bigger than life.
I’m a destruction derby
all day long.
How do you expect chaos to get along?
When I pee everybody drinks it,
and I’m glad that I did.

I just shouted.
Did you hear it?
I can turn a principle 13.
Here I am in my kingpin.
Wow that’s tight.
What body part did they make?
I am really in the ditch with you,
and it’s wonderful ain’t it?

My body is on fire
with the touches of life,
and I can feel my own skin.
I go through sudden rages,
and no one even answers me for it.
You can’t say no to me.
I want to do everything.
I love the sudden grandpa.
He doesn’t practice the word no.

You know what it’s like to run free?
We will find thought soon.
I’m an image in my head
of pumpkins

waiting for the birth of thought.
That comes with language you know.
My grandpa gave me a new word today,
careful.
I fall so many times.

Okay I’m 21
months,
and I’m takin’ my time.
Who wants to be thrown to the wolves?
I’m just all out in front of everybody.
I’m Dylan.
I'm myself to please.

My Sign

photos by the author

by S. Nithish

1st Part

I am Nithish a growing poet.
I will write for the world and me,
and I will take big steps anywhere, anytime.
I am opening (muse) my marker
a bag with development.
If the bag doesn’t get bigger
I will fly away.

Oh I am high on poetry.
Get me a ride home.
Hey god, how tall are you?
Ha h aha I’m going to my job.

2nd Part

Exchange the world for some divine,
and my marker call the muse.
Will you listen to the paper it’s right.
Why are the poets here for?