My God the Attitude

photo by Donny
A poem by Donny Lee Duke
Where is that tambourine man?
They don’t let you know everything.
A prime example
of so many things I can’t tell you.
You hold a life of noble purposes but it’s there behind you,
the ominous, foreboding nature of man.

I don’t think there’s cause for alarm
you generate goodwill
all in divine purposes.
You’re healed from your trauma,
from everything outside,
when you surpass yourself.

Can we say rock-bottom
has brought you over to freeway?
My God that smarts.
I don’t know how to tell you divine intervention
puts up with it for so long.
It’s a rock-bottom nightmare.

Divine intervention thrones above.
It has you by the hand.
You’re pulled out one by one.
This is grateful
hasn’t found a home yet.
You’re just stuck in the breeze.

Unfortunately you care,
and it just keeps going off.
This is rock-bottom nature
has overcome yourself.
It’s all in the plan
you come out of this alive.

God really cares.
It’s all over His face.
You just stand there and stare at it.
You wait for the world to show you a way out,
all eyes on that exit.
You’re in a harmony with the world.
It seeks you out.
Finally you find it.

There is no celebrating,
no noise you make
of victory.
You don’t even breathe,
least you draw lines in the sand
you get kicked around by.
Hey everybody I’m done!
Oh yeah?
And you fall again.

The unconsciousness of the mental life,
The mental battle,
The mental drama,
they confound.
We tag along
around the silence.

You have reached a divine rescue
in conjunction with the Earth.
You’ve penetrated the Earth,
and the intelligence behind Nature
moves into position.
You just let it happen.

The harmony that results from that
takes you out of harm’s way.
It’s wonderful isn’t it?
Glory hallelujah I’m saved,
truly.

No American
is that on the ground with you.
They take themselves with a grain of salt—
it was the trip
and all the interconnectedness about him
that gave him the pause—
you’re their bogeyman.

I’m okay I’m blind:
I don’t see a reader one interested in my story.
What do you do with this poem?
It’s the dawn of the day.
We’re gonna be right there where it grows.
We’ll give everybody fare warning,
and it shows up on some bulletin board,
the freshest in line.