photo by me of one of my only real friends on the island
I’m telling you the birds and the bees. It’s way over your head? Come on now slow down and read. This is the biggest thing on earth where we whip up ourselves. I’ve revealed the times, any way you look at them. See that dog standin’ there? It’s the same for him. Now let this poem unfold before your eyes a poet where you’re sittin’.
All about bears and livid nature just feed the worm. They just didn’t do it right, be themselves in a public crowd. An exaggerated sense of self led them through the day. This is the human worm. I think this plagues everybody. It’s baseline bein’ human, when we encounter each other. I am so big in my eyes. I need to show this to people. I have to feel good about myself and expose my difference. I am just one in a crowd, and that hurts.
A social hierarchy makes everybody sting and just messes up bein’ human. Everyone is just falling all over themselves to be an item. Your boss said no. Now, what’s at fault here? Everybody’s just bein’ human. Let me give you a hug. I’ve just arrived on the scene, and I think we met once, and I have to show this scene my Jesus imitation mi corazón, or I just sit back and judge everybody pretendin’ to be bigger than everybody else with my debonair, so they see I’m the one important here.
Can you stop? Nobody can. These are the facts of life. I’m a hole in one. I see everything as the center of me. My senses place me dead center. I hear everything inside confirm that. I feel it on my skin, and you can be my child, and I am not your senses to you, and your inner life is dead to me. I don’t hear a thing. I infer. I gather. I learn to empathize. I don’t know where you’re at as you see me. My world is so big you understand, your world pressin’ in on me. I’ve got to show yah I’m worth.
Here’s the deal. You don’t believe me, unlessin’ we mean for each other. There are just too many of us to care about them others. This is such an exaggerated posture, however much noise we make to show our worth. We feel ourselves so deeply. We are ever-present with ourselves, and we want so to be liked and loved, not made to feel bad about who we are. Oh man please listen to me. We each and everyone of us hurt so because we’re ridin’ the world right upon its seat, legitimately the peddlers of existence, wind in our hair, fire under our tires, and not a person sees that but us.
Oh my God that hurts. It’s downright mean to arrange a world bottle this way. Is it a Creator laugh? We’re so on ourselves, little children at the handlebars, peddlin’ for all it’s worth. Who can blame us for bein’ mean? Now you know that’s not right, and God is not a son of a bitch. We’re workin’ out a plan too big for us to see. We have to take the impossible and pump it on our bikes, not live in a storm of I am the you, the me.
We have to do this ourselves, realize every Dick and Jane is the center of ourself too, and they feel the world out there the central event in it, just like everyone of us does to our existential eyes. Oh my God all life fits there. Oh my God all the world fits there.
Can you see the change in identity? There you are identifying with everything. Now you can still get your work done, but with radically changed hands and thought process, and your heart beats in everyone’s so that you can feel them like yourself. Even if you fumble this someone really does you in, you climb back up there because it’s how you see.
Now am I livin’ wart? I have the apple in my hand. I’ve explained to you humanity, right there in social dice. I’m the cows come home, and I’m different you see? I’m posturin’ so you’ll give me worth. Is it all a game? Do we just bury our heads in sand dunes we are so embarrassing on each other? Oh no sweet brother, sweet sister, puppy dog, pussy cat, we are so much more than tumultuous sees. We are bigger than stars, just immature infants that’s all to how fucking big everything is and meaningful. We have a role to play in an unimaginable creation’s purpose, these little animals that we are, but we grow up you see.
I’m speakin’ from that tall noon far off in a shimmering distance. Inevitable we arrive. A chrysalises our dumb selves, and we’re just waitin’ on that greater light to open us, and this poem has eyes on that light. Is that okay? You sent me the email to shut up. I’m sorry I can’t. It’s what makes me tick, right here: see that me there? I’m lookin’ at the world poet my number. His editorial number God central that’s you.
I have to have a storm to peddle in emergencies, passage mean, this business of losing my job. A cute muffin is my horticulture, a grassroots revealing poem. Now think on this. What’s so weird this is Candid Camera. We’re bein’ caught in ourselves, because as luck would have it we are the One lookin’ out at the world through everyone’s eyes.
We get caught in ourselves seein’ that, and there’s a host of pile-ons. We’re creation’s niggers, little hapless animals breastfeeding on life, not knowin’ who we are, not knowin’ where we came from. We’re a little window on time, unaware of the All inside. It’s spurs us on. It gives us courage. It’s not bound by time or even existence. We are there you see in the front of ourselves too close to see.
What a Hollywood. It’s wonderful really, and validates all our notions of look important me. To discover that in yourselves you would have to remove the Earth from view, see brighter than stars. Can you do that? That will be the day you will count forever as the starting of your see. You would’ve seen Earth laid bare in all of its miracle. In several seconds sums it up for me. I’m seein’ all those pile-ons a poet describin’ time. Is that so bad? A referee man, I’m tellin’ yah how the cow ate the cabbage. Am I invited to dinner?
The most precious thing on earth, your dog loves you so, and you can treat ‘im like a dog, piss all over him with your human control, shock the shit out of him with that play-button shock collar, and he’ll lick your hand and throw away all his pride at your feet. Now how do we help that dog? It's not abuse you get arrested for, but you don't wanna look at it. There’s better hours his master can spend with him. Well I found out theys do me dog here too. Comin’ in didn’t see that. I thought I was a pedigree dog. (The sound of laughter) He gets embarrassed and shy we share identity. Get that puppy so much better than scoldin’s. Honor that dog.
A lot of things up there I don’t like to talk about. It’s a mess up there, and it chases your life. I’m an idiot for believing it. There’s no hope on this runway. I can’t even see my dogs. I lost all the people who matter to me. They’ve taken me out of India for a visa violation. Can you imagine Dylan?
I had several minutes to pack. Nithish came and we talked. Everybody was crying. No appeal allowed. They were stone-hearted men. The immediacy of the situation derailed me. I was not prepared to go. No one would listen to my pleas just a few days please. It was heartbroken. The dogs were so confused. Bruno knew. The pain in that dog’s eyes, can it kill you?
Who knows the price you have to pay for poetry? I made the Auroville Foundation mad, and they promptly got rid of me and didn’t even show their face. Their lackeys did it. I’m going to shoot them tomorrow, not with guns with their guilt. Douglas and I are on a plane to nowhere. We’ve been kicked out of our home. I am over skies now. I don’t know where I am. I don’t care to. I will never see my dogs again.
A few minutes to pack after a life of 20 years. No international rights, what do you do with that when your life-blood is on the table, all your hopes and dreams? Even Nithish’s parents cried, and we all forgave each other. So many crying people came to see up off, and it didn’t move a cop.
This is land’s lamb, a spoken inner voice, and it will even tell on itself. It won’t leave you alone. To trust it is to invite paradise, but hell is its price. Pain and suffering slam me now, and I don’t know what to do with that. More poetry please. Look I gotta get out of this ride. Most things have to be deleted anyway. I’m sorry. Look it’s over.
What happened? The government has cancer. It only has a gun. It breaks people’s hearts, is only concerned with its name, can’t see past its own nose, is a bear eating people. No one can call it on it. You get in trouble. They won’t let you talk. When you give them a divinely inspired poem they get mad, shoot the messenger, tear apart his family.
What’s the wasted gun, where I meet the government, or where it meets me? Hand that over a hide and seek. Show dinner now how much bullshit serves me on myself, or am I worth the life of this poet?
Plenty of people have no pride. It’s part of the hardship of life. Do we let then in? Do we let the haphazard come in? They’ll throw it open like they’re dying without it. They are not sincere. They’re trying to get over on you whatever they can. They can’t look you in the eye and say they’re sorry. They’re all over the place, a dim a dozen.
I need to know what that man’s like. Test him some. Come to his house and sit at his table. Is there anybody but himself in his banyan tree who are not satellite I’s of his solar I? Can he have compassion? Will he sacrifice for those around him? Is he a hope in humanity’s heart? Does he genuinely feel the presence of others? What does it take to make him smile? Can you count lighthouse in him?
I’m askin’ the right questions say you find an illegal immigrant. These are the criteria we live by, and he needs to show that. Can I get a horseman here please? We’re blowin’ humanity out of the water throwin’ somebody out of the country such as these. An immigrant’s status give the immigrant’s worth?
Look at yesterday. They pull a poet out of his home. Because I didn’t read his poetry. I listened to the bossman. We celebrate this. You’re at 1 o’clock. Put more tickets through. It’s all good. Put the police upon the table, and this defends a society of Indian spirituality?
Our family there were told that the Secretary of the Auroville Foundation, Jayanti Ravi, filed a police complaint against me for the past three poems on this blog, which are about Auroville. Four men came to our house, all in civilian clothes, and only one would show his ID, the one from immigration, whom it’s reasonable to assume that they brought just in case there was a visa violation, and there was. Later, since I was holding out in my house, the regular police came.
Recently Auroville News and Notes reported that the Auroville Foundation has brought 15 members of the special police who are crushing dissidence in Kashmir to do that in Auroville. I suspect at least two of the men who wouldn’t show ID were them.
Can I fly my hypotenuse a jersey on existence, I mean cans? This whole world is a big block. Everything’s in small measure. There’s no room for elbows. I can’t get yah to change your mind there’s a bigger party than this. Your little room is your little room folding existence upon itself. I wear those sleeves too, but I get out and abroad, you know?
We are lifetime wears. It’s a stinking ship. Just ask your neighbor you hate, or all the money you make at the expense of other people, the information you give that ain’t true, the self-righteousness that drives your car, and all your thoughts bent on death for those who’ve crossed you. Am I leavin’ your telephone number out? I don’t think so.
I can name names. Even the good on Earth do it in. Would you love that bad person to death? Would you get out of your family role and bring a stranger to dinner to sup with your kids risk and all? These are the roles of the One in flavorful chairs, and I’m usin’ analogy to get at device. How can I tell you you sail too the shape we’re all in? Do you see our pumpkin? It’s a safe haven for everyone.
We are littleness meets the stars confined to one room. It’s a prison house of escape. We can go so many places, with narrow openings, and it’s a secret from the crowd. I can’t prove to you I’ve been there, but you hear that sound now. I’m tryin’ to get bigger Earth, so we can mean somethin’ with our lives and not take a stranger to death.
I grapple with existence like it’s my magnet, all this poem to pull you along. We’re going to get there you see. It’s only a matter of time. It’s larger than wood, than our feelings’ meanings in time. Our thoughts can’t get there except on some spaceship that’s blasted off from Earth bigger than any thought you’ve ever had. We’ve got to bust out of our shell in the pains of life oneness denizen models. You know I’m countin’ score.
Now let’s get on with it. Can I give you a blog as a purpose of a universe? You’re not going to believe it’s in time, the whole meaning unfold that meets us right where we’re at. Harm’s End I’ll say it again and a collaboration with the unknown, and some Twitter eye in focus. I’ve did it. I’ve grasped the universe right in your pocket. Start with this poem and go from there. You will arrive at the universe I guarantee it. No one has done this before with their hand on the button of life.
I’ve surrendered you to abstractions. Do add-ons care? May we hit the role in the machine, get to very deary wood. I’m a pencil outside of myself. I’m not the me generation. Can you generate outside of yourself? Can you get there? I am the center of everything, and as much as we see this we don’t. We judge by selfishness a bottle unto ourselves.
Can you put yourself in the murderer’s shoes? Can you be someone liberal if you’re conservative? Can you be that priest that molests kids if you’re survivors of incest? Alright can you just be your wife if you’re too tired to deal with the kid crying at night? Can you be your neighbor, and they need you to take their kids to school, but you’re late for work? Can you be the guy at the grocery store that’s asking you for small change or at least I see you smile? Can you be your coworker late again, but you don’t tell anybody? Can you even be your kid, and he’s been caught with his pants down not to your sudden fury? Too tired to go to work, we can’t identify with people. We can’t look outside of ourselves.
It’s all the rage be offended. You know what I mean dear heart? You know what I mean expanded notion? If I haven’t hit home examine yourself. You’ll get better.
Now where do we play school? Getting bigger than ourselves in life’s little room. Watch those reactions. Give some pride to other people. Is that too tall for you? It’s what we’re here for in the basics of bein’ human.
Oh my God this mind stinks, and we shoot it down with bright ideas. Did we reach anybody? Only the choir. Oh my great big beautiful humanity we’ve got it all wrong. We heart with each other. We expose ourselves to vulnerabilities of feeling. This is the prize in the room: that heart’s safe to be with, you know? It’s what they remember you with, you know?
You can land a hypotenuse all over the freeway to capture the sun’s rays geniusin’ your way to a household name, but those around you know your love, how your heart is around people. We educate the mind, put it first in school, put it only in school as what matters more than anything else, and we are heart matters with each other. The rule and scale of mind is not our hypotenuse. It’s not where we get along with each other. The heart owns the whole show. It lifts us up with each other.
Can a poet say this? It’s where we abide in time. It’s my wake up to you. It’s where we meet in verse, and you hear me. It’s our meaning with each other. God rest his soul. I’ve done all I can to reach the heart of poetry. I smell the four winds, and I do hope that danger’s not real. Know how it feels to have said too much from the party line where the authorities don’t let you, not even in poetry. So long today. I hope that’s not all she wrote. A case that does not take square time became an artist. She finally took the picture that brought it all to bear. Can you identify with the wife?
About concessions surpassing condition in this mutual lust’s core. / From Don to poet in 30 seconds. I’m on poet duty. I’m a hole in One. Can I tell yah our range card? The ego sits in its bunker wonderin’ over friends and family, excused about relationships the very center of relationship. Hey you I’m a world, a big planet unto myself, the center of my see. You have not that validity.
You’re just out there, and I’m in here the substantial train yard. I wanna melt these barriers down, but I grab myself again, and that’s impossible. I really love you, and that’s sweet and kind. No it slaps you in the face sometimes. I’m all animal whirl when someone gets my goat, but I mitigate it with you must be in there too, just fightin’ your own wars really feelin’ yourself a wounded soldier.
Can we get out of this? I try. I don’t know where to put you if you don’t see my worth, if I am just a blob in a corner to you. We sing awhile the injustice in that. Oh my God do I compensate. I think I feel every hole in humanity. I so understand your pain, and it moves me to tears I’m embarrassed to show. My God you have a rough time little Gaza boy alone in his bed of refugees. I don’t know where to turn from your pain Parkland shooter realizin’ what you’ve done.
I’m a hole in the fence to a greater life I can’t fit my own self through, but I’ve been there a time or two, on the other side of that fence, miraculously arrived in the very vision of God’s eyes, and I know we are safe caught in the lifetime passage dream to bring us all out of strife at the end of the tunnel.
My God I would be there now if I could unrealize the dream. So I sit and suffer in a peculiar sense of humor that sees beyond the show. I know we will be made right. I see this in my puppy dogs trying to crawl into me to feel safe and ease their loneliness. I am the master of love to them, and I am but a prototype based on God. We’re headed somewhere, you and me and the whole damn crew, so I hold my dog and comfort you, who set bars alight wantin’ to get at this lust’s core to dream to change it.
I would not be bothered safe. Now tell me now would you? Would you give it to ‘im, this poem over there, if he were your little boy in trouble? We can fly the world on a single point where suffering goes and capture the whole poem. Oh my baby dog Nithish, we wish you a happy birthday on tomorrow’s wings.
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 open up my face in Brahman.
Something happened.
Death lives on in each of us.
Transient houses you made us feel.
Can we all surrender to hatred?
To relations with each other
I bring the death penalty;
I’ve packaged everything—
we hear death talkin’.
Now will you please listen?
Give this say to an individual,
not a group of any nation or purpose,
some wisdom on control.
Absolutely
parallel balance,
that’s the frame I put this in,
on the level.
Hey,
you alright?
I just put love in enemy territory.
Will I make it out of here alive?
You tell me.
My God that’s balance,
and let’s score you again
just too worth it.
And nobody walks me huh?
It’s crazy but
I go all out with this one,
and your attitudes about how social change comes about,
the best advice.
I put my peril down
and tell you the safe, wholesome fight for everyone.
You will kill me here I know,
if you break truth with me,
of course.
He tore down his statue of self-defense and said one big one today,
Smile Records.
All I want from poetry is my two front teeth.
We don’t need a bully.
The safest place for me to be is away from you.
I’m volunteering at your stacked deck
straight ahead.
Unbelievable.
Do me a favor,
I’m telling you
don’t press defcon 4.
We’re at the Geneva Convention.
It’s so shallow
if I even make it this far.
I want your hands off hate.
We’ve got to get down into the bowels of society to do that.
That’s why I’m chargin’ bulls
wearin’ red.
I’m down to this science,
and you’re in the war room.
You know what he give me?
Imaginations control,
nobody harm one another in their thoughts.
Can you see that in your mind?
This is hot stuff.
This is how we pay for peace
Emily.
Do a father to father talk about peace with Emily.
Her underwear got crowded out
by someone in her neighborhood
when she was seven or eight.
The backlist sells cookies so much slower.
She looks blind, hyperactive.
Identify that culprit with me.
No, identify with the culprit.
I’ve just spoken the secret formula that will save the world.
I’ve just spoken huge change.
You have my record.
It was a peace mission.
You’re just the Alamo.
Behind you,
that’s not a peacemaker.
Someone in the vestibules
throwing us all to evil.
They even have a financial access.
Hide and seek
the world demon.
And pray you don’t see him.
It’s a calamity.
Donny, filter.
Read the endless pages.
I’ll have the affordable print tomorrow.
I just copy movies.
I don’t have a thing to say that flowers
a reader’s turnover.
I don’t get published in the sky.
I just sit in my room and write
long letters to humanity.
I’m a shrill voice.
I run the gauntlet of change.
I slip and slide all the time
all over your meaning’s worth.
I Excalibur this now,
put it in a format for you to use/see. [words spoken simultaneously]
Do me a favor,
huddle up.
We’ve got no other choice.
I think the Griffins and the McCoys said that.
Did I just say enemies should speak to each other?
Without contempt.
I’m a Jew you know that.
Don’t hate me for it.
I’m a rightwing political bureau.
I think we would even charity you.
Do suicide
and pull down your pants a pedophile;
can you find anyone that doesn’t want you dead
or not allowed to breathe?
This is poetry central,
giving time a voice
so it can move us away from destruction and decay,
so it can bring meaning into our lives,
give sense to things,
and it can get bigger than all that
be there for us.
It can evolve time.
That’s the secret to noon.
We are not worthy of its hour.
We can’t get out of our sleeping beds.
The world is on fire,
and everybody thinks it’s as plain as day:
horse rider you started it,
you comin’
from a land seize,
or the hideous government,
or a cooperation bring us to our knees.
We’re to blame for the execution,
all of us,
each one of us.
You hear that?
You’re on it all the time.
A government oppresses its people,
and nobody sees the people themselves flavor it.
Take the litmus test.
Who supplies them with the labor
to enforce and to punish and to obey?
The numbers wanting free,
that’s not big enough to form a majority, is it?
And even they oppress
the numbers wanting to obey.
Do we call them traitors?
Let’s click on you.
You would not accept my submission, would yah?
I don’t even think you’d understand it.
Pop goes the weasel.
Another one bites the dust. [heard sung by Queen, line names song]
Oh the poems I’ve wasted on you.
Can I get at this singular event,
I get taken in by somebody
a poet speaking?
I’m still dawn on social approval.
Can we get at being human?
This poem’s for you,
a higher source for love,
even when you’ve exposed yourself on TV.
So filled our cabinet and left.
I’m a garbage bag.
I take only a minute to throw away,
but take a minute and look.
I’m sculptured,
rounded to your looks on things.
You know what you told me when you were a child,
sooner or later—
thank you for the Pepto-Bismol,
so I can start with you
just knock on the door and tell ‘em you’re hungry dammit,
for the zest of life,
more than someone who sucks their thumb;
I need to know I’m safe, okay?
I’m this contradiction in terms—
that kid.
This is the draw-sight for human beings:
love everybody’s neighbor,
love and support.
Crazy kid,
he loves a pedophile.
We give it much more than it came from,
call it much more than it is:
I love you too honey child.
You hear us now.
We are not strangers on earth.
We carry the world in the litany of our smile.
That’s 12 o’clock high.
That’s our love song.
Is that child safe with me?
We bring the world together.
Do you wanna make climate?
It worked for our team so much.
Film this great, narrow, stone bed.
To put them in the mall?
Pathway.
I’ll have a Rottweiler to try to stay down there
to put you in touch with time.
She just makes everything so real.
She's down there right now,
a love angle.
Can we calamity this?
That’s the nature of this paper,
the spirit of love.
And I’ve just waved a red flag under your nose.
Control yourself, will yah?
I’m not asking you to accept pain to a child
or harm done to him.
I think I’ve reached into your hate basket and pulled out the biggest one:
you can’t put these two together
and make a story out of love.
Self-defense mechanisms aside,
that’s how I define the world:
and he’s safe with me.
Now let’s look at your self-doubts.
Is he safe with you?
Will you kill him because you’ve seen him on this page
close to someone who loves boys?
Is this to make you feel safe?
Look,
let’s give everybody some room to breathe.
Mighty this one;
imagine this one—
I have a missed call:
no,
it’s not a hateful love.
It’s right on time:
for all the world to see.
Names,
is that the name of God?
Would you call him Jesus?
I don’t understand God’s son.
Would a man give birth to a dog?
The son is the substance of his father
and his mother,
and where is she in this picture
when we talk about the Trinity?
No God wore.
You’ve made up a family
to give God sustenance in your lives.
You don’t understand God.
Who can?
Come on let’s see God.
I don’t know where He comes from.
Could we call Jesus a bastard child?
Honestly, do you think his society did not?
Where do we go here?
I think Mary escapes to Ein Karem
to avoid being stoned.
Oh hi Elizabeth you’re pregnant too
out of wedlock.
Now can we capture sexual sin?
No he’s king of the world.
It was all a plan:
die on the cross for our sins.
And we’ve made up another story
to grapple with God in man.
Who was Jesus?
A little child born out of wedlock,
and everybody taunted him for it,
and he really suffered.
Is this in the Gospels?
No, it’s logic and common sense.
The people of his day hated adulterers
and bastard children.
Can the pedophile say that today?
Oh my goodness I’ve crossed lines
imaging sexual sin,
and how we use that to hate people.
Can you imagine a God of hate?
I think some people do.
Is that you?
Take Jesus by the hand,
and he will show you love for your neighbor,
even if your neighbor sins.
Compassionate Christ,
how that contradicts your world order.
I can’t imagine Jesus stoning people.
Go to hell you sinner!
You didn’t vote for me!
And that’s the Christ?
How conveniently laid out in your plans
to force the world on your belief.
Thank God there’s God,
the truth of things, you know?
no matter what you believe.
Jesus Christ,
I’ve not counted him exactly.
He gives us roads,
all the way to enlightenment/paradise. [worlds spoken simultaneously]
Our meeting him determines the course.
He’s not a throw away deity.
He gauges sin,
and helps us cross it.
We are loved there.
We bring him deity to us,
can find that Christ in ourselves,
the divine element,
and transfigure this in man.
These are later stages the Gospels know not of.
I think you’re seein’ Jesus,
the Christ in our lives,
spilt by Christianity.
The religion does not capture the man.
It’s legal framework
whereby to tax sin,
a framework of belief
to tail the universe on,
a holier-than-thou
that puts everyone else in hell.
This is the religion for the ages.
This is God’s total store
for man in planetary being alive.
Immensity knows no other look
than this.
What medieval planet have you been hanging out on?
I don’t think Jesus would recognize himself here.
Would you crucify him,
goes the refrain, [above and below lines lyrics from “Would You Crucify Him?”]
if he walked right here among you once again?
Now that’s John Michael Talbot.
He put down his sword
and became a religious man.
What do we do with him today?
Oh John,
you are so faithful to the Lord.
Is that a TV program?
Where is that window you opened
on the truth of Christ?
It’s right here
in the lyrics of this poem.
There’s positive paintings of the way of Christ.
You take the ball and run with it.
The ways of divinity ride here.
What happens if you destroy it,
the value of Christ?
You’re witnessin’ a new reality
if you don’t.
We’re all here in airplanes
evolving Christ.
We’re lookin’ at time.
We need a revolution here on earth.
There’s no way to avoid it
if we want to actually survive.
The unity consciousness,
a consciousness of Christ, hello?
He’s good for heroes.
Yes, he is good for heroes,
and the Gospels leave that out.
This poem was came about as a result of a conversation with a curator of the blog Some View of the World. The link will take you the post of theirs where the conversation took place, quite short on their end, and this is the second poem resulting from that. The other one you can read there.
Harm's End 