Take the questionnaire. I have problems existing the way you want Council Bluffs. An opera, just what the world needs right now, our post-traumatic show, and I can’t do anything to stop you. You’re the stupid muse.
Who’s to listen to? I’m talkin’ storybook Earth. Are you wrapped around the axle with it? My God it’s got me by the balls. I’m in Nithish’s pan. Other than that I’m free. You would not stage this.
I’m too honest for broad noon, and I’ve got some big thoughts Earth don’t wanna look at, I mean in your society room. Have you ever seen an Earth poet? You’re supposed to. That’s what we’re all made of. We’re speakin’ to all mankind. Earth today, we get mad at the word man, but it farms poetry, you know?
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, I’m in a limousine, but let me get more Tennyson on yah and Marilyn Monroe. You think poetry’s got to have capital letters and sing about verses and stuff. Emily Dickinson would agree poetry comes from the inner voice. Slipped into you a mind swell the beautiful rose of poetry, even if it’s not a football field of the huddle of verses that high sound poetry to you. I give you an inner lunch.
Okay we’ve brightened our books today. I give you an inner sound, tryin’ to find your head. It’s all Madagascar. Have I opened a movie on the showroom’s floor? Train’s coimin’. It’s all about them dice watch your hedge podge in where you put your blinders on. Cute animals, eh? And everybody’s longing to be free.
Be not normal men and women, but reach above our kind and show how it’s done, ain’t that the anthem? Movie after movie of the greatest stories on Earth get by our living room with this. Would you believe they keep you in line, even in your underwear? Ask the surveillance movie Drop from start to ticket or Seven Veils, and I’m sorry I’m giving them credit, but I can’t watch every movie in time that littles us, I mean like right now as we’re havin’ lunch.
So many lies are told to manipulate your mind and bring all the bad country to bad men so demon they shine with the impossibilities of human nature taken to that degree. They’re demon bad. My mother sucked me when I was three, and my step-mother terrorized my mind, and I had to hide from her in the woods until my father got home. Teacher after teacher put me in the corner, the kind that hate little boys all over the globe for bein’ who they are, and they had a score to settle with men. Give a world this schoolin’, and let’s see how she acts. You can’t trust nobody.
Now I’ve got a little boy in the lurch taken from me and reamed, who grew up with me since he was five, but I was there from birth his daddy. It makes you all nervous inside that I’m speaking about him in this poem. Exactly. Can I show you the hurtin’ in the machine? You think it’s child abuse or a host of other ills, men bad to women, or a sudden and frank genocide, or tumultuous war. It’s our wrong seeing that causes harm, how we bake bread willfully and ignorantly with the guardians of the universe resistant to change.
I love my little boy, and that’s right and proper, but I’m a White man and he’s a Tamil boy in a red flag zone. Surely his parents must be right in beating him, slapping him across the face, not letting him go out of their sight or surveillance system or visit friends so he will not contact me. Do you know what this does to a child? He doesn’t write poetry. Now buy him anything he wants and wine and dine him. Surely he’ll stay on our side.
What’s the beef you reckon? I made better miles with him, and he preferred me to them. It’s all in the menagerie. Parents got rights over their children’s lives. Just ask Child Welfare. The mother gave them a bribe and the police and paid my lawyer more than I was paying him. This is India and this stinks, but who gives a damn?
Is anybody listenin’ to this poem? I mean he’s got to go with us, how you make a child today serious to produce that child the staple of the machine. Now let’s give ‘im bright airs and promise him the moon when he’s older if he complies now. Study hard kid. Your worth is in those grades, and your future depends on them, and we will ignore your dyslexia by ignoring it, you lazy little bastard. We’re smart can’t you see?
Now this has been shut off, squeezed out of him in a parental vice par none. You like that? That’s okay with you? Who the hell are you anyway, ordinary people? I heard you. The Indian consulate the Indian dear, kick ‘em to give this boy what he needs. For fruit to work tell ‘em read this boy.
Come check your bag out through his porch. A porch explore us, the name of the explicit program, miles above the current thought, miles above the existing program. Sit by the door. You went there. I offer you holy ground. Insert I mean the new superman, a new way to Supermind.
My goodness you’ve gone over the top. We got a new thing goin’. You’ve got a brand new pair of shoes. He’s all mad at yah, Sonny— I’m not sure all the time. Who else? I’m not sure about Nithish. Lookin’ at yah. Can we get better at ‘im? Door to shopping opens in a little while. He’s your prime target. A dark smear settles keeps him in a corner. I gotta do everything to get him out of vice. These are my papers, and that’s what I’m workin’ on.
A kid gets killed, and we’re in the front lines normalizin’ it. I don’t think we understand the history of science. Our very lives show this to us, but we can’t see it: the whole society ruins children. It’s a combat zone: fuck you do your homework. We lay them in bed a manage them to sleep: oh I’m eager to get out of there you clingin’ thing. Or you test them in their underwear with your dick fingers, rubbin’ butts. Either way, you can’t get the story straight: you believe with them there’s so much more than dresser drawers in the room. Angels glow all along the edges of their minds, monsters dwell. They can see them in the corner, hear them in the closet. You think their imagination wild. You don’t know what’s goin’ on. If you did you’d run out of the room screamin’. Your sanity couldn’t take it.
But let’s get back to business, shall we? Kids glow. They have otherworldliness to them we’ve forgotten about. They live there. We see the form, forget the consciousness inside. They’re lust to us or dreadful things we have to manage, and in-between those two poles most lie. Have I hit yah yet?
My boy is in a livin’ emergency, and nobody cares. I’ve shown this to the room. I’ve shown this to Town Hall: he suffers still. We think there’s monsters there in the love of this foreigner for this boy, or we just want ‘im with his own kind. Can you count that?
We don’t know children are kings and queens of livin’ life, and they need more than us. They need a breath of God on their tops, and they need the substance of their souls to be their playmate in time. They need to get away from the Darkness in the world and not give their little boy’s livelihood to the darkness in the corner goin’ bad in a hand basket. We can’t see Hell edgin’ up upon their life. Another soul down, so many millions left to go They say.
My boy’s there turnin’ inta vice, furious at his parents and the world for making that child obey and renounce his own freedom and tear off of his lips and eyes any mention of that foreigner, who is me, and they beat ‘im until he complied. Can I guess here? I’ve seen it with my own eyes, this tremblin’ little figure afraid of his own shadow, and I can do nothing to stop him from being afraid, his fear of the world, late at night, his fear of death. I envelope him with my consciousness, but that’s not enough. That boy needs held.
You won’t let me do that, satisfied he’s in his parents’ hands for good or ill. Oh the woes of parental not by blood, but yah been there since he was born. You only like adoption papers to make that real. Can we be a kid again? Can we see the emergency that we have known with children all through human history but have never seen? Stop child abuse! oh you stupid thing. Stop you from hurting kids by burying them in the world and sealing that coffin with school and other blind things that have no reason why kids be. You just wanna make them grow up or be a football to play with. You’re not inta their things, their larger than life’s, their Woodstock imagination, and it didn’t rain.
I gave Nithish that glow, what he wears himself in his distance from time. I let ‘em have it, the freedom to take his kids’ reins and mount the world with ‘em. He loved it there— no rules, no spankings, just guidance. I yelled loudly I’m sorry in moments I regret now. He was just bein’ a kid, testin’ limits and naughty. Even the preacher cuss.
What do we do with children? We let them have their head in safety tips, and we don’t vacuum their room with a pain in the ass, and we let them be stars of our attention, and punishment only makes them meaner or more rebellious when we’re not lookin’, when they get out. A submissive child is a dead child, and they’ll bring dictators into the room when they’re older. See the world now? Populist hell.
I let Nithish glow with his own feelings. didn’t rob them, and that was a school for me. I gave him candy. I took ‘im to the movies in the middle of the night, when he liked to go. On the way home we played monster chasing us or zombies in the middle of the road reachin’ out for us. I put reality there by parkin’ my bike and runnin’ off yellin’ eat the kid not me! He would squeal with delight and belly laugh, after his imagination let go of him, the monster had returned to his lair, the zombie apocalypse had ended. I know how to manage a kid with their own imagination. It is prime time for them.
What is my purpose with him? Oh I want that little boy happy with himself now. The adult can wait. I want him to feel the breeze of his own freshness and what makes him so special in a world where everybody’s the One. I want him to love himself, not be afraid of time, but more than anything else he has his own destiny I want him to live for, why his soul can down on Planet Earth. That had nothing to do with small business. I’m the upholder of his destiny, and I like it there.
I’m his keeper, because he’s still a child. Why would jealousy pull him away from me and you let them? I’ll be back the daddy he calls daddy in just a little bit of room, not much time as the crow flies. Come on let’s go, gimmie your will so this can come. Do you hear me stars and all ye people you? Bring the child.
The world is paper thin really. Monsters glare. Angels sing. The world behind the world is bigger than the world. You don’t see this? Your kids do. No let’s go over time. It laughs to be alive full metal jacket. Children’s class, there’s immediately a hole in the water. It bites. Writin’ kid once in you, how far did that go? You’re with Nithish.
Quite a ballgame. I hope that’s my intestines tellin’ me I’m rush. It was one on one flavor. With no little boy here to share it with, it was foreign. Do you know the hole the world makes when you’ve lost your child? It’s like infinity in the room. You can’t understand its price. It sucks. I have to live there. What do I do to get out of it? I can’t do nothin’, my child can. In the blackness of his state, he has to get better.
He’s 12 goin’ on nine, and there’s a football in the room. He’s discovered pornography I hear and sits there with his friends, all hellions, and has them corrupt him to land’s end. He goes there to escape the wild, a single room home where he’s stifled and crushed, the invasion of his privacy a misdemeanor the boy can’t afford, the rule of his mother a felony that makes him question his sanity. She will not shut up. She will not let him breathe. The fear is he will see me, and she took him for her vice not mine, after a lifetime together his end. Insanely jealous, she watches his every mood. Is he thinking of me? Has he called me on the phone? These things are forbidden and when she sees me on his face she whips him for it. His father’s a killer who only comes on the weekends, and he’s plotting another murder I kid you not.
These are the parents you chose him be with. These are the parents you admire. Can you get any worse? I can’t handle this. Protecting children I thought was your right and mood. Turns out you only care if you touch their penis. All else is permissible done to a child. All else is warranted. All else fails to get your attention in any meaningful way that helps. I live this, your hypocrisy. I only get your likes, and damn few of those, but let’s be patient here. There is a poet I know in Israel that cares, and not every reader is a penis-monger. Some genuinely feel this, but I’m courting people right now, in the bowels of the situation, who have the power to confront the parents and at least end the blockade of no outer contact with the child I raised since he was a wee little boy. They’re Tamil and live here in positions that can help. Who says they do? No, that’s online. I am a foreign man and they are not. They don’t give me the legitimacy of parenthood, because how can I? I’m not even Tamil, and I cannot prove my worth with my tears and broken heart and concern for my child. I look like some guilt monster wanting to steal theirs, so identify they do with Tamil people.
I can’t get around that. You’d tell me to be quiet, or end the attachment, like it’s a perverted cross. You should see his song he wrote for me: "all the bad voices are saying bye; all the good voices are saying hi." They say that loudly. His whole life is on hold waiting to see me again. I’m daddy.
Can you gauge love in a boy’s heart. Unexpressed it doesn’t die. Ordered to kill it he don’t. It grows beyond the mountaintops and plays there with the Gods. They have him arm and arm with total control to keep me out of his eyes and ears and me off his lips, because they are jealous of me there, and in all this blackness more blackness comes. In the absence of me he races too see friends they’ve gave him permission to be with, who are the signposts to gangs, boys already addicted to vice, who are the real danger for him to be with. His parents are oblivious to the boy’s plight. They’re just controlling him from me.
This is bastardly sucks. Let’s do away with it. Let’s return this boy home where his heart is. Let’s give him the freedom to do that. Okay crowd, let’s have some high rollin’ here and get that boy off the table and back to his house, the American me. It’s not fun. Hey you two pass my way. I’m not bein’ sarcastic. I’m talkin’ to the two Tamils who can help. See them there? A will collective move on their will and speed this process up. They have the power. They really do. Come on people let’s ride.
I’m countin’ on Syria to kick out Islamic State. Can we get there? I go over the mountain. All I know, judging from your path, I think you’re right. You keep raising your voice. You’re grasping at straws to get him back. You let me know anywhere loaded on ‘im, some trapdoor to sex. My sympathies then, and I’ll call child welfare there in India and get him taken care of.
Okay choir, would you settle for ruinin’ his life? Oh my God chop me to pieces. You’re comprised by sex in Texas. Do you know where the dropbox is? You’re wonderful, and another one’s kicked off the Earth, no tongue. Someone sent me a message. I’m just gonna read part of it. You take unborn babies and make them king, but kids themselves you beat, and punishing them is your right. You want the submissive child.
You’re lookin’ beyond graves, if we can, beyond that boy has a penis but thinks he’s a girl. You’re gonna take it seriously kids need to be protected from abuse. Now “The Use of Animal Freedom” really identifies with kids, what’s about to turn on in Nithish full force. the fact that he has a dick and wants to use it. I can’t get you to see this in a children almost teen. What do you do with their puberty, make them wear church, make them put a sock on it? And if she’s a girl? Is that the one you need most to no button down there? Why of course ring maker. Kids go to perdition so easily when they’re buddin’.
Kill it, kill it inside them, their natural born feelin’. Transgender wars hell, you’re workin’ to make a warehouse of kids to not even look down there to check out what they got, and you are so worried about them in the womb. You’re so cross fingers with them in the womb, but you pull their pants down and spank them just for bein’ a kid. Texas you’re the vice I’m talkin’ to. Hey Texas leave those kids alone! All they are is another brick in the wall?
I liked the sound better with a mouse. That’s great. That’s not acceptin’. Gotta get some lunch bags too. Outgoin’ calls, the hammer is no. I’ll let you feel safe. You’ve lost your mind. You give kids no sexual expression at all, and you think this rides their freeways. It rides their hidden vice. It used to be in your desk, overcoming desires. Did I hand it to yah? Come on, what do you needed to do it? Looking at come here Bruno, come here! (vision of Bruno, our Doberman, running away from me to the front of the house, and I’ve just let him out the back door) Get your pumpkin right. Self-control, self-measure you teach them.
Fit there she goes to sleep. You don’t give her any room to breathe on her own paper. You deny reality and with it the child. You’re underage a God looking in on Himself. You put conservatives in the White House, governor of the state, with your kid’s vote, and you stand around and watch children die. Here he comes. You’re too big to get the world to see my child. You know how it goes. We murder children in their sleep so they are zombies all life long.
A lot of this good agency, what I’m giving you now. Follow their lead. Even playing with themselves they’re bringing in a better world, when it’s not porn-play or adult hand in there. Even thought about kicking themselves up, they’re watching themselves up. When we allow them to get dressed in personal animal freedom, the cops come, depending upon who you are, and ban everything. Oh Texas and my world, you need Freedom School. [a school in the movie Billy Jack] Hello napkin, I wondered why I was burnin’ down there. Such large members, such a tiny space we fit them into, such a large package. Oh my God world see this.
We go hand in hand with proper sexual expression, and that’s not with an adult, and it’s not only with their own hand. I just stepped off the world and into a better science, as I’ve just entered your living room, and I must be polite and leave. What the hell do you want?! Thy peacemaker. Give the kids their genitals, how they are when not one’s lookin’. Let child know they can control themselves how they are around dog: napkin, grab that fucking napkin! And you’ve situated one of the building blocks to peace on Earth.
I’m fresh and alive, aren’t I? I study reality, but I do not rank there. So be it, but I’ve just written into the ether a better way of doing things, a better Nithish brought home. I’m on a rollercoaster can you feel it? And I’m not there to make you scream. I want the end of the world that puts kids in prison boxes and sends them to school, that puts chains around their necks and sends them to school, that pits them against their own bodies. Why do you wanna cut your dick off? Don’t you see reality? Talkin’ to a transgender kid, made there not by gender diaspora, by no one accepting his genitals growing up and givin’ them release. When you slice your dick off, sew up you’re vagina, you’re not expressing need; you’re all wrapped up in society’s handlin’ of your food, and the table’s sexuality. Did I just ruin my poem? No, I just ended it.
You better run, run, run, run, run, talkin’ ‘bout a revolution. [two above lines heard sung by Tracy Chapman, “Revolution”] Move through ideas the city of human unity, why did you do that? What did you just do? What did I just do? I gave you a whole nuther head on children. I gave you a whole nuther head on sex. Read this thing so you can copy it fast. I met too many here Guests and Newcomers. [social divisions in Auroville, India] You think the divine is divine labor on which you source, rules and how to get there. It’s not that honey it’s more. Rollin’ in agony upon the hills you end up later. Hey picked Asiya and the house is comin’ down. You’re Indian. What right do I have to speak? I’ve been asking my fat emotional body this. I know the score between children and their parents, what you do with a divine in the room. I’ve got expert topics, and I’m not afraid to use them.
This is all prewash. If you’re candy was Disneyland, what was I? They would tell you if they’re at. They would threaten. I talked to ‘im. It was on his computer. He’s a down and under hope dispenser. He makes virtue and art Hitler’s birthday. Down at that office, we’re gandin’ from abandoned puppy too. You don’t know how to lift up the race, but we don’t lead you astray. You lift up the biggest name in evil too, not to condone them, to rectify them. We’ve lots of him. I don’t see him anymore. I got my check balanced. I’m rose in the room, and it just took me away.
What Intelligence writes your stuff? The one that makes the flower, the one that sees Earth a testing ground for souls. I’m supramentalizing. There’s a harmony in my pen, not law and order or we make rules, but I talk about the important stuff and reel you in with it. My God this is not enjoyable. I gotta put rings around mountains: man is, you have to do it man. Now my little boy’s gone. I would almost boycott poetry but that’s not the flavor of this writing: hey Luna, come to yourself any discussion. [Luna Rottweiler] I’m tryin’ to show you somethin: we are not on Mars. That was a habitable island destroyed in such a long, orbiting time ago. We’ll see how it goes with Earth. We help you.
One of your favorite, one of your favorite teams, I’ve tried to photograph me close relationship to understand principles and stars, to go beyond them. I’m divine heavy in your room. I’m tryin’ to lift you up to see the sky beyond Mind. I don’t get to go until you do. We are a connected lot, but I been up there before. To say it’s the writing on the bathroom door, it’s not; it’s just there. I’m a field take, and I’m tryin’ to get you out there to play a roaring game of baseball so we can sees each other, put our guns down, stop shooting people.
You don’t know the price in the room for hating anybody, even those who hate you, and I’m workin’ with Nithish’s parents, who refuse to even speak to me. You’re the judgmental party. For Nithish’s parents, the hatred just comes out of the woodwork, suddenly picked. You’re almost there: understand their stupidity and don’t hate them for it. Gwen, okay? An almost businessman came up. She hates me I’m her brother. She may even read this poem, someday.
I’ve been hurt by hate too. I have this social stigma, and I’m the most hated man in the crowd. This stigma’s hated; people don’t know me. I’m wish I’m done with speaking through alleyways in your hole, but I do feel better doin’ divine will. No one reads me yet, or damn few. The audience and his poet, do you have to have one to have the other?
I did ninety pushups and sit-ups each day. I’m exercising wholeness and healing. Will you give me a hand? We gotta see the wholes, and it’s a together report card. I really need help with my boy, get him out of trouble and onto victory lane. All this dramatic poetry, this is a bank. I’m writin’ poetry for my boy so he can sees himself an inner poet. I pass this onto him in the inner consciousness. He gets it.
The help of Robin, it can help when David, who puts landscapes together, afforded my report. Will they put you in jail? Not your question among you. You just unload this poet on a public conveyor belt. Anyway I got room to grow and so does he. He’s a contact Earth named poetry. Accessible he would make me. I love your fine wine.
Okay let’s borrow mine and get down to Earth poetry. Believe your death you must navigate. I was making a significant Boomer’s salad when I made this for you, when I bear this for you. Let’s see how fast he gets here, once your will’s a ridin’ him home. Yes, yes, it takes a long time just to roll up your sleeve. Gotten Aidia’s attention, hopefully in wheelbarrows.
That’s a great poem. Why thank you, a fresh fish in a factory. It’s got labels on it this time. Great vehicles on Earth the poets are. The print out, it’ll be cave free. We’ll do it in the mornin’. It’s the head of the whole thing. How many wheels does a truck driver have? A collection of poems published in India in a book see. I hope you see there. Can you say large collection?
Even a little bit apart, he’s been us with the whole time. Is what facilities you may use. Him coming home, and he gets not that shit from me, a bad policeman. Three times as big key presenter, I asked the cinema to work it out in peace number 9. I wanna hold your hand. [line heard sung by the Beatles, line song title] I’m expressing need. You need to see this. It don’t feel like something we just said Auroville Press made real— I’ve encountered basically the tune of the ages. I suppose you lookin’ at ‘im, the whole prophet of Auroville, nine inch skin. I am constantly created. Only in summary is he wet behind the ears. On Old Galveston Road he went into the nature of Supermind.
Your heart in your ears, your ears in your heart, oh there you are. (vision of Nithish sitting on the floor one knee up, he running his hand through the bangs in his hair like he’s a bit frustrated) He’s comin’ home soon. I gave preference to The Silmarillion. Gonna detail now the Samadhi. [holds the bodies of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo] The Samadhi— hey how’s it goin’? Tryin’ to watch he’ll come be here soon. I love you, my beloved teacher and master in time. Trapped his voice on this recorder as he measures time Sri Aurobindo and thank you Mother. I’m an anomaly. I look at my boy and smile and look at God later, and that’s where I put God’s eyes, on my little boy lookin’ at me. It’s so we kosher together and have fun. That’s how you manage time.
Let’s go down this road. Look, there’s the really afraid. You do not boy blue darkness, step over him, in how you hold God. You hold God in that boy. He’s not your image of God. I look into your little eyes, speak the account God has with me. Did I say that correctly? We’re on Earth, and we’re here to stay. God on Earth, and we are Supermind, the supramental manifestation managing its creation.
Did I blasphemy? I gave you a measure of God in the balance of His show. God is always bigger than any robe He wears, any riding car, bigger than those little boy’s eyes, and we’ve arrived at the end of the poem. He’ll be home soon, and thank you God, down lower, gettin’ inta those eyes.
That’s why what I can get on the television is behind your imagination,/ you’re too fat. What’s that? It’s a soft glow. You’re wrapped around the axle of society eating everything you can get your hands on, entertainment spook outs, song after song after song, the news minute, and bubbles and bubbles of internet stuff, and books that make you mean.
You can’t get away from society in your newspaper. What’s that supposed to mean? You suck society’s dick a porn hub. I’ve just offended half the nation. The other half’s asleep. Why can’t I suck dick on television?
I’m using figures of speech to show our involvement with society. I just got censored out of society, but can I employ you in your mule, weave together a story using pockets of molten lava? I’m tryin’ to get yah riled up. I want to show you you’re pasted by society.
Would Sri Aurobindo say that? I think he would allow inspiration to come and not worry about sensibilities. He would not future poetry to make it stand a language model that forgets our garbage stuff. He would future poetry.
I want you offended. I want to show you what you’re made of. That’s not squeaky clean. It’s all over the place. If I took you into the Silence, you would want to come back. You do not know the spiritual consciousness. You think it’s a morality speaker, a set of rules you follow to get there.
A whole other world arrives when spirituality arrives. I don’t think you saw that yet. You’re a radical revolutionary if you’ve taken off ego a moment. I have never been there permanently, so I can’t say there. Did you think Sri Aurobindo was like your local priest?
I want you to examine yourself in the light of society. It’s mean it sucks, and it will throw you to the wolves if you just can’t make it fit right, your will with what society says no. Say you molest children— I’m going to marry a millionaire. Oh my God you’ve processed God, and you no longer molest children.
You can love a child now like it’s God lookin’ at yah, and you love that child. The formula’s in the Bhagavad Gita; you just don’t hear it, or you think it can’t be done. Fuck a child, and society will never let you in again. I’m boilin’ your paper right now. I wanna show you how small you are when it comes to the big stuff. You just morally react.
You don’t know how to do it, heal a person from society’s ways. It’s society that fucks children; I guarantee it. What’s the softball today? We learn to love each other, even those you hate. If I can’t accomplish love, I can at least accomplish understanding. That mother beats my child, and she’s raped him from me. I could take a stick and beat her myself, but that would just make her meaner. I understand her jealousy and her lack of control. I just sit with it.
I’m rescuin’ my boy. You hear it done special in our media. I’m gonna see him safe, and I’m gonna bring him back to papa. That’s my name on his lips. He calls me daddy. We have a room for him in a whole new place. This is spiritual journey, in the air of spiritual journey, where that boy’s no longer in Pondicherry, so that boy’s ocean will work. Grab you guys in a manner of minutes, and anyway, I’m makin’ sure the roads are prepared for him.
I was gonna give this poem to who would’ve thought it, but for now let it sit on this Facebook page. Those of us who would change society have to live under its auspices. Society would rather kill than change. It’s acquired a life of its own apart from the individual. It’s got great steed on it, but we’ve reached the end of its present rope with us. The world will be destroyed before society changes; I mean it’s bragged about that, if you can hear the writing on the wall.
How do I know all this? I’ve been from one end of society to the other, from the mountain to the monster, and I’ve grown bigger than society makin’ that monster climb to the mountaintop and seein’ God from there. The monster changes his panties and grabs society by the horns so that society can see itself for the monster that it is. I’m no more monster.
Can you ride with me? I have some beef to show you. Holy cow, let somebody eat beef, if they’re just tired of the same old fare, what doesn’t take you rocket launch, what keeps you in the bounds of society, what goes no deeper than a three dimensional world bound to love its aunties and the open vigilante.
Am I chargin’ wool? Hey man, are you mediocracy? I sucked the wrong dick. You are basically a big person. A big person, you are God unawares; you are the look of the Lord when He forgets Himself. Let’s all dance to this tune: hey God, wake up.
See yah on Sunday, on Saturday, in your religious house of worship. It just kills the kids doesn’t it? They know there’s more to God than that. They know there’s Everlasting, but you’ll just slap them around if you find out this thing has to do with naked and not with their school books.
I’ve been the danger a kid faces at midnight, and my God watch it grow, their Shazam. They know there’s more than little TV, and I’m not talkin’ about the sex stuff. They know they can get beyond this movie, that God is bigger than Her lists, and don’t just stand there; do somethin’.
It’s put up here hangover on that third eye. You’re just gonna have to get your shit together. I’m compound joy. There is actually a petting session over here. Nithish called. Everything’s fine. I will see my little boy soon.
We’re all at a movie. It’s packed. Saw the hall were you there? Every divine minute the time it took to free me. No, you were there willingly and cooperatively, and you woke up with a bang; it hurt too much, just like the Buddha said. We just don’t put illusion on everything, because God’s there the hunt.
Wanna see? See past your nose blockade. Make you feel the situation, make you feel the heartbeat, make you get out of yourself, river find out the apocalypse, if you don’t hum the right tune. That’s in our field today.
See that little boy? He’s weathered the storm. I’m not just gonna leave ‘im there. I’m gonna bring ‘im home. I’m gonna open up where God dwells. Wanna see me do it? I know how.
Alright people, listen up. The Earth song, do you just cram society? These are open bars. Come on Grace, let’s go pee pee. We can’t send her out alone. That little Beagle’s still a puppy. I gave ‘er more than the rat race. Come on let’s go to your human, darling, and I took myself to divinity. You comin’?
Society rose, what’s the historia? It’s wide open, every means to God to get there, even through the snake. You just stop biting people, even through the murderer and rapist. Now that I can put this in literal terms, so can your doctor. I be doc.
Listen up, let’s start from the beginning. Dicks out. No, you don’t go out. The boy’s offended by the balls. That boy’s offended by the power of some certain dirty thing even mentioned in a poem. Take it off the neck. No, I don’t wanna get yah to do it. Can’t heal it ‘less you hear it, and that’s in the meat grinder, a poem so everybody can get off, a poem so everybody heals from this disaster we propagate as society.
That boy got offended, that readership. I won’t say fuck you God no. I’ll see yah when you’re open again, after death, or this poem will. It’s got strings on it that pull you along where this poet meets the world.
There’s a response. There’s a regular response. Can you feel it? It’s on the way home. You’re bigger than mountains, and you don’t have to be bothered by anyone or what they say. This is a test of your truth speaker. Can you get past this test? All we are saying is give peace a chance. [above line heard sung by Plastic Ono Band] Truth can be known that doesn’t betray yah. Get back in there tenderfoot. I think my muse is talking to me. Goddamn, there’s just no end to the beginning.
This poem was written for the Facebook page Teachings of Mother and Sri Aurobindo – Discussion forum, but I’ve tried to post it twice, and each time it’s been deleted automatically upon posting, and so I submitted it to a member of that group called Renaissance, an arm of the Sri Aurobindo Society that is doing a feature on the purpose of art. In their series, there’s an essay by Nolini Kanta Gupta, arguably Sri Aurobino’s main disciple. Ignore the introduction by the Renaissance team and just skip to the essay: “The Obscene and the Ugly – Form and Essence“. It will add flavor and standing to my poem in the light of the the Integral Yoga.
His mother at the Child Welfare Committee meetingNithish at the meeting, in-between tears
That’s for grown social media posts. She’s unbelievable. Look at her, a stage in the groundwater. The American field, this is a story of S. Nithish. That’s been the biggest disappointment in my life so far. Will fill you Earth that suffering. Nithish is gone.
Two sizes too small, India to deal with it. I came I went I sorrow. Let’s explode these pleasantries. Demon monsters, can you imagine, rule over kids in Pondicherry? You hear this mother beat her kid with ‘em. No one will help me stop that, and I can’t see my kid. Stuff like this you get away from. You don’t entertain them with your kids. Cruelty is as cruelty does.
How’d we do that, let that happen? The absence of miracle might wanna tell you there’s a mountain. The boy’s in there. Double helper, somebody call Nithish one. He will help me, and there is a fantastic here, and this is Auroville’s: he will tell the story far and wide, help evolution so a kid don’t get beat anywhere on Earth.
But India, he’s gonna show to the world first. She beats her children. Her children get beat there, and not a kid gets saved. It’s normal for parents to beat their children in India the Puducherry Child Welfare Committee told me, and Nithish was sittin’ right there cryin’. You think that’s funny? They were laughin’ with his mother afterwards.
Nowhere left to go. There is not a person that can help me, not anywhere on the planet. You would not believe the list I’ve bade to help me. They’ve all laughed, or if they felt empathy, they just put it down. It amounted to nothing more than a pencil spray.
No one helped while I was crushed under the wheels of this revolving universe. No one even thought they should. I just sat there and died. I’ve unlocked cruelty, like it’s the bowels of the Earth. People just showed it to me. Never see my boy again, like he’d been killed in a car accident. The grief is the same.
A mother and father landed guilt. I was their son’s first choice, and this had been going on for years, until their jealousy came to such a pitch they decided to punish me for it, punish their son too. I would never see my boy again. They knew the bond.
I did nothing wrong, but they made me out to be a monster trying to steal their son. Everybody on the planet believed them. I don’t even talk about the underbelly of hell I went through. Insanity grabbed my clothes. Things I cannot speak about visited me. I’m a seer you see, wide open to the universe.
The divine I looked to to save me abandoned me. Even my soul cried. I was a baby for a moment. I lost everything about me and just became blind reaction. I lost the whole world. Everybody turned their backs to me. This was horrible suffering. I couldn’t get out of it. I just swallowed of hell as each day wore on.
You don’t know the price of suffering when your boy is still alive and you can hold him if but that people could feel your pain. Why wouldn’t anyone let me? The boy was not in a casket. The mother reveled in this. She made me pay for her inadequacies. She shielded her son from me by holding her hand over his face or keeping him behind her when meeting had brought us together. No one questioned this or thought it odd. This was India at its worst.
That mother got her revenge because I was a better mother to that child, and everybody let her do it, the Law, the Child Welfare Committee, the rule of India. No one spoke of reconciliation or healing. Fairness and wisdom were not to be found. It was get that foreigner and make him pay for superior being some question we ask ourselves. Why would you use it? Can we just get to development with our humanity in our hands?
I don’t think you understand the price of cruelty. It sums up our bad day. It haunts us at night in our dreams. It makes us slap our children because we can’t admit it’s there. Can I show it to you? I can’t see my son, and you all agree with that because I give you an opportunity to be cruel.
You can get away with it. I’m not anybody special. You don’t have to defer to me, and I hold the foreigner’s worth. That’s not quite a human being with the locals. Would you just principally see that Tamil Nadu? Hateful right up to say Indian.
Cruel, there’s not a name for it in India they are just so cruel, the Indians I called to help. Have I overlooked you Masil Johnson? You didn’t help. You sure didn’t help. One childhood, did anybody stop that mother from toring it asunder?
I’m gonna have to look after civilians. Madras Dyslexia Association will you come to help? Everybody his mother beats him for dyslexia, not just for loving me. You’re like really stupid. How many people say dyslexia here? No, you won’t mention the abuse. You don’t know how to handle it. Parental rights, even the welfare of the child is small in comparison.
You don’t even see mothers beating their children. Nithish has that in arm. The cruelty of his mother, everybody look at this please. Look halfway around the world. You know America beats her children too.
Okay Nithish you’re up. That’s my emergency. You heard me. Stop my mother from beating me, come on. Soon a major character, where we stop kids from getting hit, my little boy Nithish.
I got no out here to accept. He got no in there to… That’s your final. He makes things right just by bein’ himself. Our soldiers were held by death and many chisels. Put that rocket ship. He better India’d. Can you give me a minute? That’s bro what am I worried about?
He’s the only one that we want to hear. He’s the only one that we want to help. But the foreigner has challenged you.
Liberated me, bright colors, and he helped himself, like a book report, and he helped every kid in the world the new statesman. That’s the formula needed for world change, the child stands up for himself, and he’s Indian. Bravo.
Everybody deserves credit, the ebook I’m about to give you. Do you know what’s real? Don’t give me any chances. And why not? Put me in the hospital, be in a hostel. Don’t put me in the world. Thrown out of life paradise with you. But someone he gets mixed up. He gets really missed. Bury your head. Now I can’t be a boy. [two above lines heard sung, from my song “I Never Boy”] https://youtu.be/kvx_uZ9iWKc?si=SbDujgGn4kJrjp_K
I’m in concert. Can you believe it, that I’m deaf? When you first arrived, was that before rise here? You’re here all day with her. Basically I wanted knowledge. She leans down not to help her calm. It’s inevitable we have the victory in the Mother’s hands.
Like lost his faith left and right. He didn’t trust the Mother. She’s real to him, and she’s so present in his life. He speaks to her in vision, always soothing him, always assuring him, making sure he’s on the right track. She is gentle but firm, and there she is in vision again, the Mother’s face looking into mine. She’s there to tell me it’s okay.
The Mother is working on changing the ground of reality. This situation had to play out last. It’s about abusing kids and making them safe in their homes. The fundamental problem in humanity our children we hit and beat, give them spoons to make them unhappy with. We are generally mean with kids, rob them of their wills, want us to be the center and focus of their lives, the family tree, the parent that needs that love. They belong to God not to us.
We’ve got to get it right with our children. This has to happen in a big way. It has to be seen by many people, and then change could come. We will tear the house down mocked kid and other crimes. We have to learn with our children all the ways of the world that come into blossom/blessing with our children. [above words heard spoken simultaneously] We need them to be kings and queens in how we respect them with our attention. They are the center of the room, not our pastime. They are not a sidelight we’re handlin’. Sacrifice a parent does to put that child’s needs above their own.
We’re not here for enjoyment, though we can enjoy. We are raising God in our rooms, big monumental change, and we will love our children to that door. How is this done? With the patience that master plan. We give them our very lives and correct their misbehavior with love that does not hurt them, but knows how to employ their own will to overcome their blunders. Patience and kindness, it’s our children we’re holdin’ you see.
Who can live up to this plan? It is a model we use every day to come into the kingship with our children, and we start with they are not hit or beat or have their pants pulled down for our enjoyment. We leave their genitals alone, but we do not make them put shame there or keep them from their own file. We are liberal with our children, and we give them their natural development and do not stand in the way when they have a soul purpose different from ours. They may not stay in your home once they’re grown.
This change is coming, and it’s gonna change the Earth. It will heal all our problems that we make upon ourselves. It’s the number one duty in humanity, pickin’ up God growin’ up, making our children safe with us, allowing them to be free, allowing them to follow their own path, allowing them to be who they are, not put our trails on them and force them to follow. Can you see this change?
It’s how we raise our children. It will be the talk of humanity soon, and we will standardize this with love, and abusers will be punished— according to the old rule. The new rule does not punish children, who are also parents or some other person that has damaged a child. We see the child in the adult who grew up on the receiving end of what they’re dishing out today.
Change forms it’s still the same nature, but we do not just let it ride. We engage that parent, that adult, in terms of love that knows how to handle people, that that man that woman puts on to find their way out of meanness, to find their way out of abuse. A separation model must needs to be truly called for. This is integral care. This is holistic healing.
We will protect children, but not from monsters, from erring adults. I cannot spell out to you this plan in one sentence. I can show you the way. You hear the Mother, and this is her master plan. We touch our children with all systems go. We’re climbin’ love.
I have to get that picture. I have to get that picture from the Mount of Olives. They have refined the books. That’s it, pretty intelligent about it. We didn’t kill ourselves.
I visited the Old City of Jerusalem and did a hunger strike outside its gates, three weeks, ended Easter and Passover 1995. Then I taped poems of mine all over Jerusalem in the holy quarters, dangerously daring in the dead of night. You wanna see it?
In Jerusalem is here, and in Pondicherry I will do a hunger strike for my boy, to protect him from abuse and get him back home. You don’t believe me read the story. I will do anything for love. Get ready folks. I’m about to step in God’s hands and see what they’re made of. Care to join me come at the lake. Day one begins shortly, for the love of Nithish.
Nobody catches blood on the first day of the field. It showed that I had been to visa. We must add those grapes too, so to be believed. I got it issued 1977 press, and that’s it. My hunger days as a Jesus freak add to the story. I converted people at school lunch, and we’d get on our knees right there in front of everybody. I’d have them accept Christ. I read my Bible every day, studied scripture, and I attended church every night, all the denominations.
I didn’t find Christ, just his name. The clothes I wore prevented me. Those clothes were Christianity, so I took them off, put my Bible down and started backpacking and camping on the weekends, looking for the natural God. Green Beret came easy after that.
So I went to Jerusalem with a heartache. Jesus was real I knew it, but would I find him in all that stone, all those old places? I found adventure, but I did not find Christ. He was too buried over by religion. Do I find him today? A present God in my life yes, who’s special function is compassion and redemption, the God of love.
He has appeared to me in vision so to help with Nithish, getting that boy back to me and getting him healed. So when you talk of the Old City, this is religion wore off. It won’t help you none. I think there’s still hope for Pondicherry to become a spiritual city of wide dimensions, for inner watch, not outer show, for freedom in the spirit, not to bow down to a religion.
A free, open, and easy God that can accept even the atheist at His dinner table, and change us all into better men and women, The New Jerusalem, we’ve found it here in Pondicherry. It is here the Supermind came down, and it’s here we’ll learn to be a proper city, considering human beings before even the law, learnin’ how to make it right with our children, learnin’ the true intent and purpose of school, and how to treat people who work for you and pay them well. No slaves please, no schedule that excludes your life. We’re on our way Pondicherry, we’re on our way.
I wanna be the first one to raise a child knowin’ Pondicherry is a cradle of civilization. is where we do it, the supramental manifestation on Earth. Did you even look at it? There’s a book here in Pondy with that title. Take it out for a spin. It’ll bring you on the road to destiny Earth and open up your life to what we’re actually doing here.
Say hi Billy, how are you? Don’t pull that out and show it to me. Let’s get down to business what you really want. You want God in your life don’t you. How do you become you are He? Pull your pants up I’ll show yah. My job pretty good, kids know I like them yes. I let ‘em play with their little small cars. Well why not? I don’t bother them there. I know how to take that energy and open their consciousness with it, and turn that curiosity to God, never once tellin’ ‘em playin’ with themselves is wrong. You just wouldn’t put it in videos and pass it out in the street. You protect that child’s privacy and leave them alone there. The power we give them when we do it right. God rest His case.
You have to find out tomorrow, at some point, your child got raped with that guidance that shows them everything is to make money, buy nice things, and walk on people you don’t like or you disagree with. Open heart surgery, open house surgery, it’s how we find each other again, so complete and wonderful.
I have the stairs. Will you walk up them? Pondicherry it’s time you become yourself, where peace descends on your city mood. Buckle up, I think you’re fine. Help me find my boy will yah? He was halfway in to the new humanity when he was taken, and you countin’ on me to get it right. We have pushed suffering out of his life.
Unfortunately this is a brand new way of doing things. I’ll see you scoff at it at first. Then I’ll see you think about it. Then I’ll see you accept it. We have to go.
You know I hear about Nithish. And what did you do with that? Normal, he’s perfectly normal. I just spoke to someone who he cried to. The boy wants his daddy, tired of being beaten and threatened. I guess we need insurance. Yes daddy, I know daddy. I’m almost done here.
You were so concerned with your mall and media. Heartbeats don’t measure pain. They just squeeze it, but this boy’s still feeling pain, and he hides it from you because he must. You beat him, threaten him, if he even talks to me. Imagine what you do with him when he asks you to let him see me. You’re leavin’ out the full story Sandiya. You’re not tellin’ the truth. That is a must Pondicherry, give this boy back his place with me, with you, and with God.
Splittin’ with an open guitar, I will make people to understand what I’m asking of them. Hey Sleeping, can I ride your tricycle awhile? My boy’s being abused, and it won’t let up. I need this written in the paper. I need this on the news. I need to protect my boy. Will you help me?
I’m not robbin’ cradles. I’m not doin’ anything bad to him. I’m bringing him to the fullness of his potential, and I can show you miracles that’s being done. Read awhile his poetry, and then tell me his parents are right in keeping him away from that, in keeping him away from me, and do you know how they do that? They beat him they slap him. They threaten to put him in a boy’s hostel. They guard him day and night to keep him from contact me.
Why is this you ask? The boy prefers me as a parent, and they can’t stand that, but do you know what he did? He told me his father was masturbating his little brothers, and he gave me a video his mother made of his little brother masturbating. That’s why they took him from me. He told me these things. Do you know how much he’s been punished for that? Do you know WHERE he’s been punished for that?
It’s happened that way, and you’re gonna tell me I’m lying, but no one will question that boy about the abuse he’s received from his parents away from those parents, not a single Child Help worker in this city. Why is that? You tell me.
I have started my journey. I feel like I wanna be dead. But why? Someone have to stop this school before kids die.
I need help please stop these dictators. Kids need power too if kids to live in this world in peace. I ask myself God please help me. Forsake have you?
It takes a power in India. I let me talk of light/God I to the world. I will be in heaven if I am able to be in peace.
I have started my journey. I am gonna see my old mind, and I am gonna write till I see no more. I seen God. I need way to escape from reality. Have they heard God or have they saw a kid talk to God? Well I have a spark of power now.
I am in sea with sea monsters. His eye was bigger than my head. I feel ashamed of myself.
Chapter 2
I have started my journey. Am I really pissed off? I ask you that or do I ask me that maybe? I should ask the world.
I shall be born again in my mind. Please look me in the eye and talk to me. They shot my head off, threw me in fire, stabbed me.
I can only hear the light, but can you go? I am stuck as one. I am three, but people only see one and judge me looking at my face.
I tell them judge me after looking in my inner soul. Are we kids gonna die without living life a little? I am very strong my muse. I have to protect the light from another somebody from stealing it.
I always say goodnight, sweet dreams, but who’s there to that for me? God help I am homeless. I have opened my pen to write me.
This poem is a prevision of the future. Nithish wrote it from spiritual vision some months before the horrible situation he’s describing happened to him, when he was taken from my home by his mother, where he lived during the week, visiting his parents on the weekends. That is the journey he started. They did bad things to him, but the worst has been what they have done to his heart by doing Nazi-like things to him to kill his love for me and keep him from having contact of any kind with me, although for the first two months he called me in secret telling me of the abuse, and of course we have inner contact in spiritual vision, or I do; this also has been killed in him by his parents in their attempts to kill his love for me. He doesn’t write poetry anymore, no longer hears his muse, or very little.
I need to mention that school for Nithish is the worst thing in the world. He’s been badly abused for his dyslexia in school, both physically and emotionally, and his parents would never allow me to get him tested for the learning disability. But in this poem, school represents where he gets his life lessons, and that takes place at home too. The muse, the inner voice of poetry, uses the symbols that you know, and, if you have some preconceived idea, it won’t override it but use that in the place of what would more represent the truth. That’s going on here with his use of the word school to describe what is going on in his home with his parents.
He was not just split in two, having to have one face to his parents and another to me, but there was the Nithish alone to himself he had to try and honor also, and so when he’s speaking of being three people, not just one, that’s what he’s talking about. Since the source of his abuse came from his parents punishing him for continuing to love me and wanting to see me, not to mention betraying their bedroom sins to me, he became completely silent about me with anyone he didn’t trust, did not even mention my name, let alone say want to see me.
On the phone he told me that he had to do that because they were treating him very badly, like he was poison, because he had caused all this trouble for his family and brought shame on it, and so, he told me, he had put on a fake smile, but he was really sad inside. So he was one person to his family and another to me, and still another to himself. I cannot tell you what this does to a child, especially one that is right this very second beginning the body changes into adolescence. Mental illness of some sort will ensue at some point. If I am unable to bring him home, I believe the boy will become a psychopath like his father, who has murdered four men in cold blood for his gang.
No parent to you in the chair means that was not your cradle, that was not your hold that baby sweetly, that was not change his diaper, that was not teach him to walk, and that was not to show him the world for the first time, and all the things in it that made him wonder and laugh and cry when it hurt him. You did not sooth that child in the bottom years of his life, those three years of Earth when he rose into human being. It is there we hold him his parents say,and you have no right there they tell me.
Is this all that’s wrong? I have been his parent for life. I came in when that boy left his toddler years, and I formed him into the boy he is now, formidable years, the ones his two front teeth came out, and the teeth there that I had him grow back were not mean. They were full of spiritual impulse, and they formed his muse, the poetry he writes from inner house, and that is my job with him. He is a poet to show the world we have to change our way with children.
We have to make it right with them. We have to give them ourselves so they can be themselves. We do not own them. God does, and is our job to help them discover their soul’s purpose in life, even if that is not where we want them in our home.
This is the parent I am to that boy, and even if he never sees me again, I have parented him there, and that is in the bowels of the Earth, and no amount of hatred and brainwashing on his parents’ part can remove that from his life.
Here on social media I have not called a name, and I have not shown a face. I have broken no rules of engagement, and I want the world to see what you have done to this child, just at that point in his life, at the very second, the body wills into adolescence, and you have damaged him there, ruined him, and you will see this bear fruit.
I’m all over this with my arm, and I know how to heal this boy. Please step aside and let it be done. Put down your jealous egos and let me save your child from the hells and howevers of being a sociopath. I cannot state it more clearly. Now you see it, let me heal him.
நீங்கள் ஒப்பிடுகிறீர்கள் என்று
நீங்கள் அவரது பெற்றோர் அல்ல நாற்காலியில் பொருள் அது உன் தொட்டில் இல்லை அது உன்னுடைய பிடி இல்லை, அந்த குழந்தையை இனிமையாக, அது அவரது டயப்பரை மாற்றவில்லை, அது அவனுக்கு நடக்க கற்றுக்கொடுக்கவில்லை. அது அவருக்கு முதல் முறையாக உலகத்தைக் காட்டுவதற்காக அல்ல. மேலும் அதில் உள்ள அனைத்து விஷயங்களும் அவரை வியக்கவும் சிரிக்கவும் வைத்தது அது அவரை காயப்படுத்தும்போது அழவும். நீங்கள் அந்தக் குழந்தையை சமாதானப்படுத்தவில்லை அவரது வாழ்க்கையின் கடைசி ஆண்டுகளில், பூமியின் அந்த மூன்று ஆண்டுகள் அவர் மனிதனாக உயர்ந்த போது. அங்குதான் அவரைப் பிடித்துக் கொள்கிறோம் அங்குதான் அவரைப் பிடித்துக் கொள்கிறோம் அவரது பெற்றோர் கூறுகிறார்கள், மேலும் உங்களுக்கு அங்கு உரிமை இல்லை அவர்கள் என்னிடம் சொல்கிறார்கள்.
இது மட்டுமா இதில் தவறு? நான் வாழ்நாள் முழுவதும் அவருக்கு பெற்றோராக இருக்கிறேன். நான் உள்ளே வந்தேன் அந்தச் சிறுவன் தன் குழந்தைப் பருவத்தை விட்டுச் சென்றபோது, நான் அவனை உருவாக்கினேன் அவன் இப்போது இருக்கும் சிறுவனாக, வலிமையான ஆண்டுகள், அவருடைய இரண்டு முன் பற்கள் வெளியே வந்தவை, நான் அவரிடம் இருந்த பற்கள் மீண்டும் வளரும் அர்த்தமற்றவை அல்ல. அவர்கள் ஆன்மீக தூண்டுதலால் நிறைந்திருந்தனர், அவர்கள் அவரது அருங்காட்சியகத்தை உருவாக்கினர், அவர் உள் வீட்டில் இருந்து எழுதும் கவிதை, அது அவருடன் என் வேலை. உலகைக் காட்டக் கவிஞன் குழந்தைகளுடன் நம் வழியை மாற்ற வேண்டும்.
அவர்களுடன் நாம் அதை சரி செய்ய வேண்டும். அவர்களுக்கு நாமே கொடுக்க வேண்டும் அதனால் அவர்கள் தாங்களாகவே இருக்க முடியும். அவை நமக்குச் சொந்தமில்லை. கடவுள் செய்கிறார், மற்றும் உதவுவது எங்கள் வேலை அவர்கள் வாழ்க்கையில் தங்கள் ஆன்மாவின் நோக்கத்தைக் கண்டுபிடிப்பார்கள், அது இல்லாவிட்டாலும் எங்கள் வீட்டில் அவர்கள் எங்கே வேண்டும். நான் இத்தகைய பெற்றோர் அந்த பையனுக்கு, அவர் என்னை மீண்டும் பார்க்காவிட்டாலும், நான் அவரை நன்றாக பார்த்துக்கொண்டேன், அது பூமியின் குடலில் உள்ளது, மற்றும் வெறுப்பு மற்றும் மூளைச்சலவை எந்த அளவு அவரது பெற்றோரின் தரப்பில் அதை அவனது வாழ்க்கையிலிருந்து நீக்க முடியும். இங்கே சமூக ஊடகங்களில் நான் பெயர் சொல்லவில்லை, மேலும் நான் முகம் காட்டவில்லை. ஏற்பாடுகளுக்கான விதிகளை நான் மீறவில்லை, இந்த குழந்தைக்கு நீங்கள் என்ன செய்தீர்கள் என்பதை உலகம் பார்க்க வேண்டும் என்று நான் விரும்புகிறேன், அவன் வாழ்வின் அந்த நேரத்தில் இரண்டாவது நேரத்தில், உடல் இளமைப் பருவத்தில் விரும்புகிறது, நீங்கள் அவரை அங்கே சேதப்படுத்தினீர்கள், அவனை அழித்து, இதன் விளைவை நீங்கள் காண்பீர்கள்.
நான் என் கையால் இதையெல்லாம் முடித்துவிட்டேன், இந்த பையனை எப்படி குணப்படுத்துவது என்று எனக்கு தெரியும். தயவு செய்து ஒதுங்கவும் அது நடக்கப்பெறட்டும். உங்கள் பொறாமை ஈகோக்களை கீழே போடுங்கள் உங்கள் குழந்தையை நான் காப்பாற்றட்டும் நரகத்தில் இருந்தும் மற்றும் சமூக விரோதி களிடமிருந்தும். இதைவிட தெளிவாக என்னால் கூற முடியாது. இப்போது நீங்கள் பாருங்கள், நான் அவனை குணமாக்க அனுமதியுங்கள்.
I’m alone with Luna, her dog paws on my shoulder. This girl has watched over me the whole time. I’ve scared her so many times. My crying at night has made her feel the safety of hell. She licks me in my face if I am sobbing, lays her whole body against me, if the night is really bad, and do you know how that feels? That girl’s in love.
I can’t tell you the love of a dog. We’re cheated by the form. There’s an angel there, looking over their beloved child-man, their heart wrapped around the divine moon. You don’t know dogs, even if you have one. They get in there with you, closer in life than your children can, and they dream with you, and you have no idea how real on Earth this is. Oh she has been in my dreams, her and silly Bruno, watching over me, making sure they’re there, whatever happens.
Can you count this? Can I even show it to you? Rottweilers in love, a thing on the mountain, holding her master close, holding her master safe. The Gods see her and call her name. This is true love, and no one can match it, not even my boy, but it’s not returned to the measure she gives, and that’s the gift of dogs: they will love you even knowing their dog doesn’t get the count of human. You will see him soon Luna.
Oh she misses you so Nithish. You were her little boy. Their play would fill the night sky, lickings and squealings of laughter, playful growls and sudden swoons. Oh when you were taken by force from my house, for days she waited by the front door for your return. That dog carried your sadness for longer than dogs do, and I am sure, if we could see them, she’s been in your dreams too.
Oh why all this pain on Earth for us? It’s unbelievable. It’s real, and it was given for nothing more than for a little boy preferring his grandfather over his parents, all this hell unleashed on the heart of this little child, our dogs, and upon me. Will you please speak up and grant these parents the reckoning they’ve called for? Oh Luna, this is the pilot moon. This is the pilot poem, and I’m going to the moon in God’s love.
I will answer you tomorrow, when we have our day in court, with the testimony I’ve prepared, and what has been your art? That boy belongs to us by virtue of his birth. We don’t care what he needs. We don’t care what he wants. We want him all for ourselves, never mind the pain, never mind the torment that we have given our son to make him comply to our will. We have no heart in this matter. We only have our selfish desire to possess this boy, and why do we say that? So he can go to school on our terms and forget the call to God.
Now we will word this differently. We’ve been coached by our betters. But they have overlooked one thing, haven’t they Sandiya, Sundar? Your natural parental rights are not rights to abuse your child. Is that understanding? Is that clear enough? Take him from his grandfather because you fear he loves me more? All the pain you’ve given him, because of that? That’s punishment, because you don’t measure up to be good parents, and you’ve punished him for that.
I’m on the case a Nithish’s rights campaigner, and even if you kill me, or remove me from the land, behind that veil I will work, still continuing to free my little boy. No power on Earth can stop me, and only the Hostile Powers try. I’m a force of God’s will in his life and his soul’s expression for this lifetime. That’s why dear parents he has not forgotten me, you have not killed his love. God and soul arranged it. Do you hear that? You will in court.
You didn’t count on a speaker from divinity’s trees. You thought spirituality was a walk on hot coals in irons, but here it is I reveal the sweetness of the Spirit, and the certainty of its peace, now leading this boy to safety, out of his parents’ grasp. On wonderful, spirituality I walk the Earth. Are you aware of this Sandiya, Sundar? You don’t have a leg to stand on God’s ground. Do you hear God’s love?
What are you going to show that you are good parents, a video you let someone make of your toddler masturbating? That’s not good parenting, and it’s even against the law. Well, we’re here, right at the release of that video to the proper authorities. Yes you can face it as a family torn asunder, but that will be for the court to decide, when the judge is shown your film. And what will he say, Nithish belongs with you?
Have you gauged the strategy I have painstakingly laid out? I’m no stranger to danger. In 1983 with my Special Force A Team, I parachuted in Germany with an atom bomb. In 1995 in Old Jerusalem, on the top of Mt. Sinai, and inside the Great Pyramid in Egypt, I taped to walls and rocks and sarcophagi poems of love and human unity and redemption, the only way to heal human evil, full holistic love. Dangerous both actions were. I guarantee you I tried to change the world even then. Now you’re a little woman living in a little world, and you’re a man who’s murdered other men ‘cause your gang told you to.
Okay, God’s plan, would you be the people that carry that out? Out there in the audience, what would you say? You’ve been silent this whole time, except for a glimmer or two of hope for this boy. You say you love children, but you don’t. Racist and antagonistic, only children should obey their parents and go to school exam and all. Anything else is wrong for the child.
Okay India, can we see this on the world stage please, your manner with children? It’s here you need to work the most, not with rocket ships, airports and guns, Hindu society, excluding all passports but theirs. Changing your name, you can square one that out.
Okay India, I call you out. Bharat, India, the river of the Ganges, your children deserve better treatment than to be the property of their parents to abuse them or use them, and to have school shoved upon their lives, like is it the measure of them. Do you hear me India? You need to protect your children.
Bharat, or whoever you are, why doesn’t Modi sing this? Oh your parents reflect the mode of government: total control in the guise of I will help you there. Can’t you see this? You’re blind. Hindu is only your way to God, but you’ve made it your soul’s cage. One everybody, one is the nature of things. It is oneness not Hinduism really what Hindu means. Take your national election and say that. You wouldn’t vote BJP. I’m writing poems now, political, hear them? Take a scroll and paper now, and just print it out.
photo by Nithish
I’m in trouble. What balloon will show? Did you take candy from your little brother? No, my momma sat on her spoon. I can’t get help now. I’m being punished for you. You said some things. They worry. I’ve put them on hold, and I’m modestly arranging you now. They aren’t happy with it. They think I’m crazy. I think they’d like to kill me if they could. I hold all the monsters. I talked to you today, trying to listen, trying to sound. I don’t know the zeros. I don’t know the plans. It’s a weird bunch of consciousness my mind don’t know how to read. Are you listing to me? I’m giving you a message. I’d like to see your men arrive. Double click that. I’m scared of what you might bring. You might take down the whole house, but you might just come get me, and I give you my hand. Everybody’s so crazy around here. They’re all waiting for you to arrive. Can we see that sentence again please? I know there’s something going on with you, and you’ve scared my parents. They’re talking of killing you. What would I do to warn you? Easy phone calls make hard bread. I am so scared to call. You root around my day, calling for me to call you. I hear it in the sky. I see it in the trees. And would the river say that? I’m on calling you, and I try. This thing sticks in my mind, but the risk would just kill me if they found out. I’m sorry you’ll have to wait. May I have a minute? My little brother’s dead. He got caught handlin’ spoons. She rushed him to the hospital, pouring hot water over him. That was Varun. I’m not the only one who gets beat around here. No, it wasn’t his joystick. He grabbed somethin’ and run. I didn’t like the sound of him crying. Do you hear me when I speak? I talk to you a lot. I’m listenin’ for the muse. I don’t get it like I used to. I’m not the same boy that I was. Will you like me anymore? I’ve been crushed. I’m sorry to say that I have, and I’m not defendin’ myself. That’s what I don’t believe. Self-nature’s got a plan. They will hear my voice my parents, whether you’re there or not. Oh hurry daddy.
Sit down. This is system failure, what you do with your children that doesn’t put them first place, their minds, their bodies, their little wills. They have a voice you know, and you’re ignoring it. You don’t even listen to children. They are things to you to keep and care for and mold into your society. You possess them. They are yours. In India it’s abuse.
You don’t know what this does to a kid, to not let his identity speak out. It hurts him. It damages her. How can I show this to you? Their wills matter, their lifeline, their own personal destiny, apart from their parents, apart from everyone in the world but them. They are individuals, and that’s important. We’re losing the world that way, one damaged child at a time, who grows up to think the world is ruled by society, and the people there are its system keepers.
Who would dream to change the system, unless it’s towards more group think, more authority over our lives, more laws and greater punishments? We don’t go the other way. Even spirituality’s a drag here. It’s not liberalness I’m talking about. It’s a better society for all. Liberal ideas make plans. They’re not supposed to make everybody gay. I don’t think we know what liberal means. It’s not on the calendar today.
Can I show you my life’s worth come together with this boy? I’m afraid my poetry would rock the Earth, if you gave us permission to speak. I’m not the only one here who’s a poet. My boy’s become one too, the beginning stages, the starting out. Can we show you what we’ve done? It’s all in pages now. Start with Harm’s End and go to YouTube, not my channel his, and then you’ll end up on Twitter, and you’ll see him since he was seven. He’s 12 now. Unbelievable, your eyes pop out, the photography, the poetry, the one on one love out. You know I’m countin’ sheep. Wake up people, rise. It’s time we built a new society, and we start with our children.
Anybody argue with that? Go atom bomb the world. Keep on our present course, and we won’t have a world no more. Come on people, embrace change. I’m here beside you, and man I change too.
System failure the Dukes of Hazard (and I will adopt this boy, you wait and see) keep from happening with our poetry. Put it down to the divine word. India, you hear that. That’s our anthem today. Land it on student rose into the big house, into high society, into where we need to be, thank God in love. We are safety Earth.
He’s tellin’ me he’s not gonna learn Tamil. Free up your mind. You have a system reach in there and grab you. They own you, your parents. I am there to see that happen: you become your own person, out from under their control, under my care, because they have raped you with their control, not sexually, in the very heart of process identity. They have raped you there, and the court will see this and award me custody. I will not take your culture from you sweetheart. I will take you to America, and there you can be the teenager you dreamed to be. Am I out of line? I am right there with your soul in the situation, and I will free you from them, and put you on the right path to where you belong in life. To India you will return, because that’s your destiny, but in America you will put on your poet wings and learn to fly, and when you fly back home to mother India, the world will stand still a moment as the poet takes his station.
I will rise to that occasion myself here in my station now. Now I’m flyin’. Am I just a foreigner, or have I put on Indian wings? You hear the soul of India in my voice, and for that she allowed me be here. Wanna throw this away? I dare you.
photo by Douglas
To change Indian, what it means to change the rocket ship of the Earth. India needs her spirituality, not her religion, to give the world the means to change. You are the example for us all. It’s not America. It’s India, where the change begins, right there with your children, giving them the freedom to live what their soul purpose put them here for, what there for them God has arranged. You don’t put parental rights in that slot. Oh seer, begin with the child.
Have I reached your understanding? This is world business. We’re not here to make guns, run the profit, or put our mark on the moon, although we do have a moon purpose. We’re here to unfold our souls on planet Earth, what it means to be human in the vulnerability of our craft, where sincerity is the order of the day, and love goes round to all. Would you argue with that? What kind of world do you want? A seership asks that question. Can you put on this music. Okay let’s ride.
It’s business bottom line now, but start with the children and that will change. Are you seein’ this baby dog? My wonderful little boy, that’s why you’ve come. You’re gonna stand up for children, and you’ve walked through hell to get there. It’s not because you’re bad sweetheart they’ve taken down your life. You need to know the price of suffering in a little boy’s heart and mind, so you can rise to your purpose. If you did not know folly you could not heal folly. If you did not know the child’s fall their parents make, you couldn’t help one child up. Congratulations my sweet little boy, you’ve won. Hey Nithish, you’re free. I wrote to see you in the morning. You know we’ll be together soon.
This is not Auschwitz, but you’re hangin’ in your home on your parents’ rope. Pleasures, punishments, they mixed the two, so they can say look, he’s smiling, everything’s okay, but it’s not is it? Scared to death you call me and tell me of your woes. I’m not making any of this up. Okay this is the rescue I promised from the beginning. It’s here. I’ve come. Let’s see your parents’ love for you. Will they make this go to court, stubbornly in their pride? Or will they see wisdom and release you into your fuller life? Okay I’ve put the question. I’ve wrote the poem. Sandiya, Sundar, do you want your family torn apart? No court is necessary. He just comes with me, and you will see him I promise, as often as he like. Even from America he can come and visit you. So what do you choose, a family torn asunder in a court’s by law decree, or your boy granted freedom to be what he was meant to be? You choose. I’m waiting.
Now Nithish, do your part, and stand up to your parents, with respect and consideration, but not with giving in, and tell them what you need, not what they want to hear. You have been put on Earth for this. If you can’t do this, what child can? Loud and clearly tell them they’ve hurt you and please stop. I go back to my grandfather now. They’ll hear you, if they love you, and you’ll come back to me. Do it fast. There’s so much danger on our road. Are you listenin’? We’ve miracled consciousness you and I, and yes you are. Let the mountains sing. You hear me on the inside.
I love the sweet sound of music a racin’ to me on the inside from this boy’s consciousness. Can you do that? We can. You’re gonna see this out, our special love, [above line heard sung by the Bee Gees, to tune of “Too Much Heaven”] and you’re gonna know the world can change. We’re gonna world this out. Come on play with me. In prevision see what this boy’s told me, his voice from the past, to help me guide him out of this prisonhood with his parents. You’re not gonna believe it, but you’re gonna see it. A bonafide miracle YouTube channel. His last two videos, check them out. That’s S. Nithish, and we’ll change the world now. Got it sweetheart? Good, I’ll be there to pick you up soon. Gee whiz, what a message poem, and it’s right on the edge of the Earth, turnin’ towards the Sun. That’s what we do together, I love you.
Get it spiritual, not religion. Glory hallelujah that’s plan. Can I show you the inner process? I’m right around the corner, Bharat India. Seership said that. That’s all I’m doin’, focused on that kid. See the results. Grow the rays to test an experiment: can we connect with each other in consciousness, when outer contact’s not there, or very nearly none, if our love is pure, and the need is there, and the bond is there? He needs to be rescued. I need to see it done. I practiced so much with dogs first, my beloved Lisa, my dead Rottweiler, and now with Luna and our other dogs. You would not believe the inner contact in consciousness you can have with your pets. You turn that up a notch when it’s with your child, but there’s danger here. It can’t be for control or manipulation, and that soul has to let you in, and you soul has to say okay, and divine beings will be around to help. Oh my God they see you here. And Hostile Powers will be there to slay. And behind it all God is just really talkin’ to Himself. Do you get that meaning? The consciousness speaks. I think I raised the barn. In any event, success in experiment. We really accomplish it, navigating human inside, and the soul agrees.
There’s a perplexing. There’s a shared field of consciousness between these two. You have to be alive with the program to see it. Question both of them, you will find it out. It’s hiddenly there. The videos are just one example. They get it all day long. It’s not bad it’s good, and it’s humanity. Tear it asunder? What’s you’re lookin’ at is the future of mankind. You will throw that away, if you can’t understand it’s true. We share consciousness together, the whole human race. What a good society. What a good story. Deliver it to delivery.
photo by Douglas
We made each other laugh. That was the mystic advocating for himself. You know it’s there from their crying pain. They longed for each other. They lunged for each other, and they found each other deep inside the other’s consciousness. You’ve never seen this before. It’s what we’re lookin’ at. It’s how we square ourselves away. You know you’re your brother’s keeper, and Heaven and Earth will not stop you from being that. You know. It’s how we survive. We find this out.
Can I please have my MTV? Okay, let these boys be together. It’s weird. It’s strange. It’s huge, but it’s how we get there: we become each other’s consciousness. Now you see it. Now you don’t, but you’ll learn it’s there enough practice. It’s amazing to look at, and here is amazing for you. It’s a field of love, and you cannot deny love, if it’s real love, no matter what you do. These parents tried. They failed, and they went to extremes to do so, and they punished the boy for their failure. How’s that for mean? Are you gonna do the same thing? They need to be together now. Don’t be his parents. They got mean. Just let ‘em go, be together, and see what they do. The world has never seen it before, a man and a boy, and a couple too, changing the whereabouts of being human in the direction of love. You got a problem with that? I didn’t think so. Give them their space. They need it. We balloon together.
His mother’s paradise law, you need to understand it’s not how the system works. She almost killed him for it. Don’t let her do it again. Protect this boy from her emotional dependency, her manipulation, her control. That’s child abuse India, and you need to see it. That’s what this boy went through. Now let’s go, the man and boy see each other again. She almost tore him asunder with that. She took away his life, his love, his dogs, his everything, just so she could eat him alive. Are you good with that? I didn’t think so. Now he needs healed from that abuse, that squashing of his identity, that day and night tirade to make him love her and forget this man. Why on Earth would you not let this man heal him?
I’ve got in in store, and it’s a simple equation: I meet his needs over mine. I give him a safe place to start his life over again. I give him his beloved dogs. Is anybody worried about what they went through? I give him his space to be himself. I don’t put rules on him to keep him to me or curtail his growth. I teach him myself his homeschool, and I will broaden his horizons with this teacher and that place, and these children, to give him the fellowship he needs, the other input than mine, and the interesting lands ahead. I’ve got it covered. Will you let me heal him? That’s what we’re doin’ here. That’s why I’ve called you all to this poem.
Okay it’s the strangest thing you’re lookin’ at. It’s the inner voice, how directed and true. Why would you go back to business as usual? Because you can’t take the new? He’s real, and he’s right here. Would you please question that boy about child abuse? He’s waitin’. He’s ready. He’s told me to tell you to come. Get him away from his mother and protect him afterwards. She will destroy him for it, and you have more than one crime there. Find them out, crimes against a child. Is that okay with you? Now go, get this boy. Talk to him. Get him to his man and let him be healed. Why would the system do it? It was the system did this to him, and we’re here today for system change. That’s on the record. It’s on the menu today.
Right there in Kuruchikuppam, people are gonna be made to see they’re wrong. That’s not the way to handle life. There are better ways of doing it. You don’t hit children, and you don’t cover it with fine speech. You beat the shit out of them with a wooden board, just for mention he loves me, and then you talk about your excellence in him for education?
The sophistication of a mag doll tears apart your life and makes you sin. I am there to remind you. Oh sophisticated sister, I will show you to the world as the braggart you are and the bane of your children’s lives. You are not fine gold. You are a base and raw metal that crumbles society. I will take you down to your underpants, as symbols see society, and show the hatred and anger you really live life with.
I will call your name as the one that so traumatized Nithish, you almost destroyed his life. I will pick those pieces up and tarry him in healing waters, and take that aching heart of his and expose it to the sun. I will heal that boy from the trauma you gave to him. You took his own identity and threw it in the trashcan. You could not stand his preference for me, and you ate his life with it, so jealous of me you put his life out on the line.
This is the poem of her. I will get you baby dog, away, safe from her, or I will lay down my life trying. This is a sudden rescue we will do, as God counts the hours, and it will be legal and square with all involved. Kidnapping will not be justified here, and you will have rights to your child as he gives them. When he feels safe with you again, then he will visit you.
You know I want custody of that child, the legal guardian of his life. This is not take him from you as you took him from me, and it was in my house that he lived. You forbade all outer contact, even the slightest touch, no visits, not even for an hour, no phone calls, not even a message to each other. We couldn’t even see each other, best friends most of his life, and I am the parent that he prefers, why you took ‘im, and for that woman low, you will know the price of pain, but I won’t dish it out. It’ll be in your death’s star. You are the willow in the wood that weeps for long and sure, standing by eternity.
The cruelty of that moment you will feel as if it were done to you, and tearing your heart out of your breast, crying away insanity, in some death lesson after death, you will come to know this. The time that you took to change your mind, was measured in pathos of pain, where one single hour is insanity’s wait, crawling through time like death has your hand. Do you even know what you did?
Is this your son’s pain or mine? We put on a happy face and forget about it to all but inner eyes. I am the child of destiny, and if I show you my pain, you will bite me with it— the nature of a child weeps. Are you game for this? See it, feel it, know what you did. I will show the world, and you will see it in the eternities of your mind. Here, here, I reveal.
But not now you change your mind. You are too proud for that. You are too cruel for that, and now you call me names and a good man, who helped you like a bitch, a helping hand that always mattered, that you drew from left and right, my time, my money, and my care and concern. Don’t you think the Gods look down on such hateful ingratitude, and see you as nothing but that woman over there who dangers children’s lives, her own the point of pain.
I will see you there, in humanity’s heart glow, when we’ve made our long journey and brought it to a close. Disguised as sin and defeat, disguised as love, we walked the ways of the Earth. Now here we are in Heaven’s reach, but the heaven after the goal, and we will forgive each other the disguises we wore that were necessary on battlefield Earth. I will see you there Sandiya, one day. That’s the nature of Earth.
(Vision of Nithish sitting down on a bed in a room like his family’s room in Kuruchikuppam. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, head down and holding his hands together in front of him, elbows on his knees) As you get details of his life in here, alone in a room. I’m a little child. I don’t know the number of school. Lumber did that, killing every sweet thing I had. I was into long silences, and I could hear the room breathing. I thought I would lose my mind. Talk Nithish. What do I say to them? I will beat you you stupid kid. This was bouncing off walls, and I could not see the room that I lost my life in.
I had so much pain in my heart. My mother kept me from crying. She was an alligator for my tears. She was just some other room. I defied her for as long as I could. Then she hit me, everywhere on my body but my face, a flat board rainin’ down blows. I gave in. I’m okay with it. I’m fine with it. That is not the way it happened. I will do what you say I said in my mind. Then I forgot about you for a little while. You were there somehow. You wouldn’t let me go. I cried and I cried. No the tears had all gone. I was a happy kid they said.
I continued to support them, and they rewarded me for it with so much favorite food. Then the hill came. I climbed it to death, and that’s when I touched your face in an amazing dream. You were holding me in a chair at my old school. I was telling you about my mother, how she is. You told me about your tears. You had a hold of me like you’d never let me go. The comfort at that moment stayed in my room, and I carried you there. I continued to act like a little brat, but my road had found you, and I aloned to that. This was wonderful news to my aching heart.
I was wonderful there in my house by the lake, and I want to see my puppy again and get my life back, but my mother has said she will not change her decision. Move me toward the door. She can’t bury love. She can just torture me for it and make me feel bad I don’t love her like you daddy. I will see you soon.
He’s saying I will be there soon, in your house your little boy again, grown bigger by his tears. Now can we get him outta there, Sandiya? I’m holding you responsible for this. You’ve cut that boy’s mind, made him suffer so much pain because you are jealous of him with me, not because of school, or the love of Sri Aurobindo, what you tell people to sound nice. I have you in my sights, and I will not leave you alone. I will continue to rush you with the pain you’ve caused us.
You’re the pain of the old society, where kids were their parents wishes, no freedom for them, and they wore school around their neck like it was what they were worth, and their parents could beat them, touch them, yell at them and abuse them, and no one ever heard, and they grew up and brought a mean world into view.
We have a planet here, raising stakes. I’m gonna get that sweetheart, and with our poems and with our might, we’re gonna help bring in the new society and change life on Earth. This is not you Sandiya. It’s not me. It’s not Nithish. We are world carriers in form, the boy and I where change comes in, you the adamant old rule. I will see you in hell for this, and that might be sooner than you think.
A lost guitar, you’ve think you’ve kept him from me? You’ve only showed him more. I will find you, and I will tell you: give me that boy, not for my rule, not for my pleasure, for his aching need. You know what I’m talking about Sandiya. You see it everyday.
What kind of mother are you? And you ask who am I? I am the sustainer of this boy’s life. I am his protector and I am his love, and you will step aside and give him room to grow as I parent him towards a clear and certain goal: he is himself on wide green Earth, and he’s doing what he loves, not what he hates, and he’s doin’ pretty good. He’s got all of this going for him that you don’t see, and you speak like you know this boy, but you don’t even know me. I’m comin’ Sandiya, with the proper people next time, and I’ve failed and I’ve failed, but you know I’ll succeed. Here I come.
On the loud speakers this is a terrible story, and it’s showing Indian. They beat children. That’s her form: what a powerful might that can’t hold itself together and soon falls down. Sometimes art general. This is a heartache spotlight. There really is an abused child there, scared and alone. Lay down, come on lady, come on.
I will see you there Sandiya in the not too distant future. Wet means? Where our Earth meets the Sun. It’s the supramental, where that boy is found, and his emotional statement will bring in the picture the child, and that child needs help. This is infinity’s room, and we’ll have an upgrade soon, a golden opportunity. (Vision as the above line was spoken of Nithish at some wall in a city, and on the wall was a box of squares like a tic-tac-tow box but with many more squares, and Nithish wrote an X and an O in the top let hand corner of the box, the first two figures written on the box, and the sense was this was just the beginning) Let them be known together.
Harm's End 