In and out cars, this one got longer hair. I’ll print the trailer one horse at a time. In the first poem, [link] the codpiece is about enlightenment. We need our system’s input, and we are too skeptical for God in our lives. The horse and pony show makes us system mean. We rob flowers, in all department stores. Terrible consequences for wood. We get ostracized and banished from society, and this is kingdom hall. We bleed and we say grace in the wrong movement. Can you discover this?
It chops us in half, with special counsel. You fool erase that paint. I have to rein it in. Crash on symbols. Let me monopolize ages of reason. That’s think tank in our purple yard. It’s expensive to have sex the behavior is wrong, and that is defined culturally, in sudden kingdoms. I’m a Mastodon that lost its way in heavy equipment. Society won’t forgive me for that, and it only knows the spell of society. Can you gauge that?
We pour out morality on our sleeve. We bury there all our common sense. Hallelujah I’m saved, says the Christian in the room, and society’s muffled because of that, as Christians enter the Legislature and take over government in halls of America. A thousand and one evils, they all blow up on society in a Christian yard. It helps itself to the wrong measure of man. We are so much more than behavior and bended miles.
We can’t see straight. We can’t even look. We’re confounded by time. They study us, all these wrong people in the room, the ones who think they know the right and have their hands on power. They wanna move us outta here, where we pinpoint the throes of man. You can’t lick this chocolate. It’s time on Earth is few. Everybody knows the dance, but no one knows the realization that we are loftier than our species, that we can make it right, one society at a time. This is certain gold.
We are all cattle and sheep, unwilling to find the destination of man. We think it’s a religious figure or an atheist’s technology that tries to play God. Can you character here, find the Sun? We revel in sweetness, then shoot it down with our guns. I don’t think we know what innocence is. It’s cropped out in school, and we lament the loss of innocence in children, and we stand there and rob it from them in the harmful environment of school, and we wanna make it harder, put them in there longer. Can you see this? This is the greatest fire on Earth, makes society a slave model and pits us against one another.
Have I reached the end of this talk on climate change? It’s not felled trees I’m talkin’ about or branded water, or the warmin’ skies. Can we get down to business and do the Earth? Can we see past our little lives? Can we see the bigger ship that man is and will become? How do you land down here? We have to get right with one another, and that’s our climate change. If we are going to get bigger than ourselves, we’d have to see importance in every man, woman, and child. No one is discounted. We come together on love, in every set of circumstances, unless we have to stop killin’ and people in the violent act. We have to be strong and swift for that. Then love finds us again healing lives.
This will give us breathin’ room to discover ourselves. Without this no one’s there, except the few who manage to escape society’s bellows. Where have I placed you? Where we need to go. Where we need to be. Can you refuse this? Most people will. Necessity will bring us to it in the eventful years ahead. I’m a blueprint magazine, and I have my windward sail, and you know I’m here.
I felt the wind blows. How to translate our lives a meaning shifting. You can’t ground it good. You can’t even spell it out. Where does it come from? Where is it going? It’s larger than space and time. We have our supernal roams. This give rise to these, the worlds, and we know you’re in there Mr. Nithish. It comes close to the bottom and close to the top, but a world is a beanpole. We stargaze there. We champion our own rounds. Oh come on come up.
How do you handle a hungry man? With patience and loving-kindness, unless you need to shoot ‘im, ‘cause he’s in our garden. I’ve just mentioned to you the problem. We don’t know when to quit. Our lives are in danger here, but defend ourselves means this: too much overkill. And what do you want? I’m sorry I’m backin’ off. Let’s make this count. We don’t have to be at the dinner table in the substance of our lives. We can be bigger than kin and they all wear my face. Humpy Dumpty sat on a wall.
But we’re relieved to find we are on our way, once we know how to get movin’. You there, will you just sit there and smile? The fear of death join our room. Can we back up this yard? We’ve got a whole lot to loud out, and it’s time we did not let the fear of death stop us. Who lands this creek? You’ve got to get up and get moving, knowing death is always there circling you and the lives of your loved ones. Accept death hell, we’re gonna learn to change it a long time in the future. Meanwhile, we don’t let it stop us from getting bigger than ourselves.
Oh my goodness wide movement. Morality will help you there, but it’s not the goal. We live and die: oh you’re bad temple will cook, because it’s not your religion anymore the church seat. Let’s gold bottom’s up. Where Douglas? We’ve reached stars, all over ourselves. We review the Sun, the gold I was speaking of. Can you hear it? It’s right there on the tail end of this poem. Let’s get busy with it, gettin’ the strength to see it. I give you links, the bread and butter. Let’s copy this on one another: I love you.
This is Nitish’s new video for his YouTube Channel
Nitish wrote this song himself, while in school. Sitting in class, the core of the song and its basic melody came to him via the inner voice in the space of several minutes. He heard the lines sung to him on the inside, and he copied them down one by one, a process he’s watch me do since he was very small in the writing of poetry. Then, over the course of the next two weeks, as I put the song to the guitar, both he and I heard lines of the song sung to us on the inside, my muse giving the last 2 lines of the 3rd verse and the last 5 lines of the song, the repeats not included.
You may not grasp the significance of an 11-year-old having this kind of ability and talent, or that of his inner self speaking its truth. Heretofore he’s only written lines of poetry via the inner voice, and this is his first song. And, despite him not being able to carry a tune to save his life, it’s a song so you might listen to him this time, this video, as it seems you only really like music videos.
This minor miracle is a soul rescue. The boy was once again on the verge of tears at school, because he’s unable to keep up academically because of undiagnosed dyslexia, but at least at this school he’s not being beaten for it, as has happened in the past, trauma that surfaces very easily. His soul is not telling him he’s a victim, however. It’s letting him tell how he feels, but, it’s telling him not to run from his challenges. It’s interesting that it’s not telling him to do good in school but to shine in his room, your room in dream and vision a symbol for your own personal room in the house of humanity, your individuality, your personal consciousness, the body included, distinct from others but an integral part of the whole. We need parents, teachers, religions, organizations, big business, and governments to respect the sanctity of our room.
You might understand that the sudden attention to the song and the making of this video concentrated him on a difficult task, not to mention the awesomeness of having your inner self sing you such a song and all the faith in the divine that brings—like God really cares—drawing his attention away from his suffering and his ‘woe is me’ attitude, and it’s also helped him to cope at school, and now he’s doing a little better academically, but he wants me to home school him, something I very much want to do because it’s my job with him to teach him the craft of the poet-seer, my craft, and tell me the Tamil people and the world does not need another poet of that force and stature. Here are some recent lines of his inner poetry:
ஒலைய வெட்றது மட்டும் தான் நம்ப வேல, ஒலைய கட்டுறது கடவுலோடய வேல. [Translation: Don’t believe just the sound. Building a sound is a divine task.]
I wasn’t born to be my parent’s child. I was born to be the universe’s child. You will express trauma.
Sometimes you can bend life.
God’s gift.
He’s wearing a ghost costume and a makeshift burka as a means of protest. It’s an artistic representation of the social position of children. Their voice is not respected or even heard, and they are not looked at as real people but only as someone to indulge, protect, and care for. Adults speak for them and tell them what they should think and how they should feel. They have no right to be an individual. They must obey the adults in their life, and they must go to school. If they protest, they’re threatened with punishment. It’s as though they themself, their personhood, is a ghost because it’s not seen or recognized.
The costume is also a creative symbol of the attitude in society of restricting the images of children in the public sphere of the internet, speaking of images that are not pornographic in nature. It’s as though we’re putting burkas on them in our attitude and, increasingly, in our policies. Specifically, we are protesting YouTube recently taking down a video, “Nitish 9 to 10”, a video that features photos and videos of him around the house and outside. In some of the indoor shots he’s in his underwear. There are no nude shots, no shots to suggest anything sexual. No strike was given for the video. As time goes on, YouTube is restricting content more and more, and what was okay before suddenly isn’t now. We would like YouTube to reinstate the video or at least give it back, as we don’t have a copy of it, and it’s an important record of his childhood.
Harm's End 