The barriers of time, I don’t think you ride them very well. We come up against them all the time. They’re in our shoes. They hurt a lot. You can’t see this for the daylight, the great big prison playroom we are in. It’s got walls to it intrinsically built into each one. That’s where our cameras go. That’s how we feel this test.
Your loved one’s on the other side of the room bakin’ pies. In symbolic meaning that’s a round of thought comin’ your way. You’re separated by time’s barriers. You can’t get at each other in the physical sense. Great big surprises come your way when you do, cramped experience that puts relationship to the test. You hold them there sweetly, and then you may never see them again.
You don’t know what’s up, what’s goin’ on. I’ve left my poem alone in a fire so heartfelt in love’s embrace. I can’t get at the tires, or maybe death’s got your door, and your dog’s died, the great big sloppy-lickin’ dog of your life, and no ma’am I haven’t just lost a dog. I’ve lost a reality so big it took up half my room. She was always there lickin’ paws next to my life. Losing her took my front teeth— my daughter you know.
She’s melting time’s barriers tryin’ to see me. I don’t think you know the cough of this universe. It’s horrifying. I see her damn near every day tryin’ to reach through vision to get me near to her. Death’s reality would spook you if you knew it’s there. I’ve muscle on this, but I’m pigeon-toed. I can’t just hold my girl like she’s right up against me. I hold her paw in some astronaut’s gleaming Interstellar there at the back of the house. The confines of death, they break us apart.
The muscle of time, do you know it’s there? It separates you from everything— one little lonely being at a time. Times barriers put us in a single physical space where we can’t figure each other out. We laugh out loud, then cry.
You’re a pickup truck that can’t pick anybody up. You hold yourself the station of the universe, but you can’t move a goddamn thing if others block you. They are themselves the center station too. The great paradox of life makes you powerless to act where you would give your right eye to act but cannot, in those places most meaningful to you you have no power over. You sit in time scaling your life, a sheer wall of belief and hard fact, never any top in sight. What are you doin’?
It puts us to the test. Time’s warriors bake and sell us at the flea market, but this is not why you’re here, and you last longer than Heaven, a safe haven at the back of the house to get our strength back but that can trap us too. We are so much bigger than death that blinds us all while we’re still alive. Hold your child close. Can you protect him from anything bigger than your arms of control? Fiend death my friend, he sucks. What’s the answer to all this? What are we doing?
The answer lies on a page in a WordPress blog? Definitely, if you know how truth presents itself. It’s not haughty and it don’t wear spears. It might even be embarrassing, hittin’ in society’s low spot. It would be uglier than the norm, the vehicle of truth, but it would shore you up with sincerity if you test it. It would be one among a mass that your truth sense recognize, because it is beyond belief in name and form. It’s not part of the system that ensnares you.
Come to my party? There’s no snaking you there. You just have to realize what’s been true all along, but that you have never seen because it’s so represent itself, and you only see the representation, the figure in time, or the one who has wings to be your figure of God behind it you thought about a lot but never really met. The scientist would just see a meaningless void.
Can’t you see I got your skies on? I’m not pollutin’ the skies. I’m not anything wrong. Well how about that? I hold my boy in love’s embrace, and we figured out time. That’s the challenger for your social skies. I’m not doin’ business. I’m a love angle on time to make us greater in it. That’s the vehicle in the room. Can you dig it?
The limits of time, they are both normal and strange. You can’t be in two places at once a sudden trapdoor to a greater life. You are either who you are upstairs or the little I down there livin’ life. I’ve seen this juxtaposition, where I got out of time. It was a railroad. Greater times are comin’.
Now I just comb my hair and wash my face and shoot my gun? No I land this in your lap reachin’ through a poem to you. It’s fresh meat now, but where will I be when I am dead, and you’re readin’ these words? Look around the room. Am I there a thought stroke?
That’s life, you know the big one. Strict society belt won’t even let you think this to yourself. I’m bein’ looked in on by me with a question: how much longer you runnin’ half the house? You will have a future integral with who you are on high. My God this is big, and we meet time’s barriers down the because in the room. I’m comin’ after you foldin’ time, a lesson in reality completely out of the script. You’re gettin’ that script.
I’ve come all the way from the ground up. I’m not an existential crisis. I know who I am. I’ve been shot that’s all, ghosted by most everyone, put out to pasture. What do you do with that, and you identify with the world, hold it close your livin’ self? You have gone out of time and been the big who we are, enough to see it, enough to be it to know it’s there.
I’ve seen outside the symbolism, outside the roles we play. Even if you call it a computer simulation, figuring the unknown with the known, whatever you call it, I’ve been in compassionate reality, the bigger reality beyond this one. I’ve seen the real thing. No one counts this as a thing to be known where animals food our feeding faces as our reality, no depth to it, no meaning, nothing behind, except Gods to worship and obey or enlightenment’s sweepstakes that bring you empty shell.
Can’t you see beyond time? What’s bigger than the universe? Is that just empty skies? What’s bigger than playpens? I’m a figure on that. So like the show to give you the universal accepted scapegoat as the one to show. I can’t get my name in public. I can’t even write it down anywhere near heard. Is that just because I’m lying?
Can I show you my flag? It’s not rainbow screwed. It’s your heartbeat and mine symbolizin’ time. It’s where everybody goes to school. It’s the time of day in this poem. It’s where we all meet at the end of the classroom. I’m sorry it’s me, but hello I’m yours.
The terror is only a being in time. The face of evil, It can’t get at that larger you in transcendence’s sphere. It has no power there. It can only rattle your cage. Anything it does to you it’s not doing to you but to the actor in that cage. This is the meaning of no harm can come to you.
It’s beyond time time's relevant, time's keeper, truth's formula, but it can act within time and space with impunity, with absolute, unhindered power. It is bigger than evil. It has eyes on you, not to save your life but to bring you home. It does not stare you down. It doesn’t even guide you with any advice. It’s up there. You’re down here, but it’s comin’ to meet yah. It’s comin’ to be who you are down here. This is the plan of Earth, what her victory skies.
You are a crossroads to that. We are at Earth’s great turning point to land ourselves there. I am a seed bearer that is all. I come to tell you what’s comin’, and if my voice don’t get out someone else will. This is the mystery time hides, why it put you in a straight jacket, why it won’t leave you alone. Can you understand me? Do you see what I’m doin’? I’m meetin’ you with your maker who is you. I’m solvin’ the mystery of time. I’m giving you wings to grow. Take my hand please, these worded verses, and make it all worthwhile.
Protracted, a polar bear’s smile. It’s gonna take a long time to reach Supermind. It’s not there at our feet. It’s not your garden grow. It’s not at the hoof of your horse. It has to be as common as a cold for you to see it. The more people up there for a moment’s gleam, it holds you up there breakout sweepstakes.
This area’s comin’ into our view portal now the hesitancy in time. It’s comin’ your way in poems Emily Dickinson’s undiscovered continent she looks out on from her pier. Rumi’s love poem says you can only see the sun by the sun. Did we see him there? Now this poet speaks in plain as day. I’ve reminded you of Supermind in Savitri’s care. I’m just the outcast that says it.
Now hold me close. You don’t have to do nothin’, just read the poem the miles that you work today, the poem that you reach today. It’s such a piano to look at the subway and see supernal skies. Stand the subway of time. Is that tomorra mornin’?
Emergency level truth’s barriers, time’s walls. There’s a lot goin’ on. Right at the turning point. Except for the money I wanna tell you somethin’. Your morality drinks beer. You’re not the captain of the ship people. You’re who we go to to take our stories off. Right here for you on your mark, get set… The restrict we have, we put it on things. We use safety to protect ourselves from safety. Actually a lot right here. We’re movin’ on. What’s your plan, bring us all to safety? That one சாவி, I’m inside a poem.
Tribute to the poetry of tradition. I’m an art student. I’m blowin’ the lid off poetry. I can’t get poetry right to save my life. If you study poetry you’ll get it. It’s just about our choice words, painting things right. I dare my pen. Let’s follow some tradition, and I’ve exposed poetry to be in the lair of predicament, every syllable counted and every i dotted. Someone on the internet will like it. These Germans, they like system and order.
Picked her brother apart, except that Skeptic’s Kaddish fella, who goes around publicly and discerns poetry, and he can make you meet poetry in a formula. It’s not weathered beat. It’s not the formula he’s lookin’ at. It’s his heart and matter. There’s a haiku, or a whatchamacallit he’s discovered that no one’s ever heard about. A poet has these easels, and he makes them shine with the testimony of word.
He passes the feeling test. He goes beyond words into something else. How elusive it is to say. You know you’ve met a poem, but let’s hand it to ‘im will yah? David Daylight, ben Alexander, measured right everybody call home.
You can’t find this on paper. It’s in the poet’s test, what he meets inside himself to write the poem, a sensibility in time that’s brought him world after world of be the horseman in the room. He moves humanity along in great waves of identification and another brand of thinking that goes for the goal of everything, its reach and purpose in time, how the world was made and why, and can I be pretty in it?
Every little thing is a poet’s mule, the suddenness of his mile (the traditional lift to pronoun stutters my feet), not to figure out and keep, to brandish science in the room or the philosopher with his stone. We must show them to you as they are with their mystery still behind them made greater by the sacrifice but revealed in the paradox of life. Oh my great big friend David thank you. You’re the bravest man alive.
Alone for you, state it and I’ll bring it. That’s our duty. I’m not a poet I’m a blog artist. These are thousands is that so? Would you gear with me the impossibilities of paint another form of blog?
I wanna get in your living room the poet speaks aloud, the blog artist refashions the internet, and it is as legitimate as a piece of paper sayin’ things. I’ve got out the bugs, the pieces of electricity put into us electronic think.
This is my whirl with you. I take the possibilities of poetry and group think and put them right in your lap. I’m a rebel I’m a holder. I’m sincere with you. God it all stinks, and a better world is coming in the kitchen sink.
Sylvia Plath did not Gertrude Stein. You know what a kitchen is thought, and how many people sink there? I bet you didn’t include the kitchen sink, and I double meaning my poem blog post.
It’s all gone to hell ain’t it? I sit and count God on my fingers. I can’t get at it that way. I’ve got to get bigger than your living room, your apocalypse see. I’ve got to get bigger than the loss of my boy and Auroville stinks. I’ve got to be a bigger poet than a blog post. Fuck you I said. That aughta do it.
Oh my fucking God, I’ve got to get bigger than my pen. I’ve got to say to you words that open up worlds inside you that change the world. I’ve got to make you see for one goddamn minute we are not animals in a bullpen. We’re not even That. We’re ourselves in time with the means to change out of this skin of loneliness and disease that even all good people wear.
We can improve the human condition. We can get better at ourselves. I’m finding that in myself as we speak. Adopt a belief? Change yourself into the bigger man when met with the opposition, your own damn faults or the shit storm of others.
You can be a bigger person to life’s faults. You can be the skies all take room in. Do you hear my apologies?
I’m on the edge of time. I stand here and sing. I’m not about the braggart of time. I hold my voices down. I’m all the way down where you know me invisible. I did not carry this to my car. I banished it. I operated on you right where it hurt. I hit you in your social glasses. I tried to be free.
For all the noise I made a scarlet letter came down and banished me, but it’s not there where I pet my dogs and clean my house and cook for my best friend caring for him. I greet people like they’re the node of the day. I want them to know they are big in my eyes, just to help them ease the day to a better feeling for them. I hold knowledge in my hand, but I cannot shake their hand with it. It’s an alien spaceship, fairies in the wood. It’s who they are beyond time, and it is what I can see ails them. I turn the page and spew this out on a page to you, dear reader, where audience is as big a mystery as God. Do you hear me?
I see where the world’s going and how it ends, edging universes towards yah how the impossibilities of the one fulfill the other. Look at our goat today, but look at our supernal skies. I’ve painted myself wood of a lone seer in time. Silly me I bark too, and I cry for myself in moments of abandoned self-love. I hold in my hand the wrong sort of type, the wrong font for you to see reason, because it is way out your door. Can you gauge me?
I’m in your toilet bowl. I’m in your lunch pail, and I’m around your cookery at night. I get in bed with your children, and I’m in the love of your dogs. I take your glasses off to see society, and I break you down to see your soul. I’m a view of the vision of God, and I’m this little man next door. Hear me climb to the skies a poem rider, a poet mile, and I’ll get you one day, to get you to say hello world it’s me, and I love this poem. Don’t you see?
This poem also was declined by the private Facebook group Auroville International, and neither their admin nor anyone else from their organization will yet speak to me.
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.
To know on the edge of your screaming that you’re gonna be alright, to see it plain as day in the darkness, you go on steam engine, you take your task with God.
I don’t know if it’s gonna rain mud puddles in my mind, firecrackers in my heart, but I’ll be okay. The world has caved in, and sunshine has found me lying in the sun.
Do you know sleep? Do you know how to sleep? It’s a ridin’ all night long the team fellows of the mind with what you need to know liberty while you’re still in bonds. It’s a conscious sleep. You hear it talk to me now.
You can’t spend me. I’m a waste of your time, but I will speak to you from the hours the training of the ways, deep soliloquies of love that hasn’t found its purpose yet but challenges the world with it anyway.
You will laugh at me, but I know time like you know your own hair, and I can stand up and sing when God is killing me. What is a poet for? Can I quote my little boy? It’s for blankets in the sea. I can only grasp his hand in verse. I can’t see him anymore.
Whales sing, and they bring in the ocean round to itself. It’s more than call letters. It’s an attempt to dare fate and expose ourselves to bright shiny blades, so we can give time its meaning, even if that’s just a language cloak. You sit there and read us those bright and shiny blades.
Fuck you I love you the poet says. Nithish did you hear that? It’s how we meet the world Planet Us and not die in the telling. We undress in front of the world and give it its mic, all the while singing our hearts out in front of I don’t care.
I am loud in a sea storm, Prometheus battles night on top of an angry world because he’d brought fire down of the Gods into the people of his sleep, and lit the poet’s tongue on daily cares, common battles, and everyday falls to know we are more than these.
Watched this film, and then the second poem came, the long one, an hour after, and it came all night.
The Banality of Evil, We’re Watchin’ a Different Movie
This is grand cinema. You’re left wonderin’ over its price. Are you opened to that puppy? Just to the pain it caused. Just to its wherewith with evil. We need more from cinema, powerfully done. I’m the long ride. I’ll get you there on sudden bleeds: you will identify with the snake, or your heart pounding no. I heal awhile. Listen to me.
To Heal Holocaust
Heal God. Boy God has done some bad shit, if we count Him responsible for everything, if we say He’s the doer here. How do we get round this table? And now the poem starts. Let’s write it.
You must know into the most horrible places. I’ve climbed down there and got burned. I can identify with the snake. I’ve opened Holocaust doors by beer-bottlin’ a boy. He cried and then got tough. I hit him again and again with that beer yard, two or three boys.
It didn’t make me throw up. I took pleasure from their pain. The control I had, I was in their control room and I knew it. Their weakness turned me on, their vulnerability. I liked it.
This is a Holocaust memorial. It’s not me writin’ on myself. I showin’ where it came from, that and a knife blade. These smites transform into big smites, transform into Holocaust. I'm helpin' you some. I’m going ludicrous. I’m just stupid sayin’ this.
Let’s change poems. What do you feel when you hurt people, your power over them? No you feel your delight that it’s not you. We’re explorin’ some. It’s a probe. Not every formula has got this written on it, but somethin’ happened to you, when you could not fight back, too little to do anything about it. It scarred you. Now you’re investigatin’ that reality, and it’s your hands cause pain, your thrust of life.
This is not healin’ you’re doin’. You just keep doin’ it, a wack in reality that repeats itself, with your hands. What do you do to stop? I can’t get yah there. It’s too wide open. Jeffery Dahmer pulled the plug. Then he started killin’ again. You didn’t know he suffered. You didn’t know he didn’t turn that down, his longness in the inner cycle. Where do we go for change? Wrapped up in an investigation of yourself, you open the inner doors.
Really watch yourself in dream. The plug will come up. You’ll eventually pull it the right way. You just keep erasin’ mood, that spell that comes over yah when you’re around water, when you’re at that place you can do it. This is your fault line, and it’s inner sprung.
You’ve got to get ahold of your behavior, on the inside where it starts. This ain’t hard/this is not easy. [two above phrases heard spoken simultaneously] You’ll see how it’s done in your visual immune system. Message, it will message you. It gives a little chance for you to aim behavior rightly.
You’ve got to get ahold of the bull. You’ve got to grab it by the horns. I took years here, in Holocaust denial. It’s when you begin to see it it’s the hardest. You can’t close the curtains, even when you do it. You can touch it and move it around. You’re puttin’ light down there. This is not about feeling guilty. This is about recognizing pain.
What is true remorse? You feel pain buddy, making other people suffer, but you’re still not in the geography bowl. Look on these two: the ordination of love, and the realizing of oneness. How deep you have to go to get there, how much time pass.
This is integral healing. I know someone that can’t even rise a fantasy. The light got down there. You feel the vulnerability of the other, and you just want to hold them in your arms safe. You can believe you did that. You can see yourself doin’ it, not playin’ it in your mind, I mean it had sergeant over you before, but you’re at peace with it, and you put it out of your room.
We have no laws for this. We’re not ready to find it. There are too many of us to make it safe. It’s good for the environment. I wasn’t so bad I chained people. I was a love roll. I know you don’t understand this. The assurities of Adolf Hitler, that was absurd, and afterwards so complex. It was positively brilliant. Wow, you said brilliant. We would eat lunch there. I’m not bragging it. I’m not starring it. Nobody has a secret weapon to find change in these dark waters.
I’m putting a healing light to it, using my own brand. You don’t know the fashion of evil. You think it comes from us. Its dark nature rises from the Abyss. There are creatures there on a beanpole, with tremendous might, that invade our dreams and conscious minds, and tell our hearts to do things. They are compulsion’s will, and they are smarter than us. Oh my God they’re there, right in our room, pushing us to fall.
What do you do with that? Where do you put it? They don’t give up, and we have to put up with them, on our world endeavor. That’s not fair. It’s not even funny. It’s a stark reality we have to live with. So when you’re coming out of darkness, you’re confronting these, the Snake in your room.
Oh my God they are blind, the ones who hate you for the evil you have done. They’re just self-righteous idiots, and they will see when this is done, when their life’s over, the complexities of fate, the manage devils in your room, the horrible nature of reality in its bottom lair.
We have to contend with this to overcome fate. We cannot escape it. I’ve mentioned the ballgame, what we’re really here for, to change our nature into God dwellers, to spiritualize, divinize, Nature. I’ve pulled the rank card, and you are blind to this. It’s too big. It’s the science of changing your nature, and your own process will see that glory immune system, the one I talk in visions and dreams, the one I talk now. It holds your hand here, and now we are complete: God heals.
Yawn as you snap them Gods. They wouldn’t know what to do with Themselves free. We see Them bound to our lives in cosmic grooves of fate. They are larger than time. They can’t get out of this. We are prisoners in Their room. They study us. They can’t seem to get us right. We’re a whirlwind in a thunderstorm, and They are stillness and delight, and They control themselves with might. The clash of Speakers we hear overhead, They’re around about us now.
We are cosmic poles in Their existence. Hear Them call our name. Hear Them be there for us to change our natures into man. If you don’t think you’re an animal look back now, where you meet nature in a click that eats up all of nature’s stores, and then you go to war. You’re a forest dweller in the nature of your desires. You can’t see past get up and go. The Gods are there on our tops, guiding us to better cages. They do not know the freedom of the Infinite. In a paradox of know, They stumble upon the Infinite and stretch it to tin cans.
The Gods they wore, the bright and start of old. They can’t seem to find the Infinite all their knowledge bore. They cut us in creeds of certain flesh. Religion bore that name. The Gods have bound us to this. They are a soliloquy on our tops, giving us lore. I can’t find this improving our lives. They are a reason against the Snake, but where they find you biting, They are blind to heal you. They just make you stop. They don’t know the deeper reasons of life’s coil.
They are not there you see here on life’s base encased in matter. They see us from afar up close. They do not understand the knot and waste. They live out Their lives in splendid heavens, traveling toward infinity, the kingdom of God, all righteousness and wrath. They sip with us awhile foundering on compassion. They are brave and strong and know not the poison of the fall. Evil is not on Their lists. It baffles Them and us. They chase it out of night. They battle it with Their spears and helmets on the patchwork of the universe.
We are Their hope and promise to principle evil and grab it by the horns, a victory for starry Earth. A seer in his wisdom has gift the Gods to us, else we would fall into the Void. This is not our fate, but we are beyond the Gods on our journey home. They are a regulation and a might to keep us from starring ourselves, to keep us from getting bigger than our lists, to keep us from operating on ourselves where They are concerned. They are both a help and a hindrance. We need Them. No we don’t. They help us get hold of ourselves. They keep us from going home.
We just changed fate and the world, without Their interference, where They languish on land. We’re here. They’re not. Beyond space and time we write our lists. The Gods can’t go there, unless they do as one of us. That’s a starry role, fraught with peril, fraught with mercy. This is an endeavor for the Gods only if They want to go beyond Their starry heaven. We don’t see Them do that none time soon. The Earth’s great spiritualization will see Them incarnate here. It’s a vehicle of Supermind.
The tallest bond, this is the engine we’ve all been waiting for. It’s bigger than the sky. It’s our next step above, beyond the Gods. These are our evolutionary springs and their destination. We have broke the bounds of the universe and come to universal cause. No cosmic God can figure this. This is a whole other ballgame. These are universal bonds the conditions of the universe find us in. They prefigure us to a certain stage. This is starry night, and the Gods are our guides the conditions of the universe impose. This is our starry prison.
A nursery rhyme is this. We live on high, who we are above the universe, our next prefigured destiny. The Gods are aware of this. They are not our goads there. They hinder us and move us in Their direction. This is a starry configuration we are lost in. Greater home is ours. Can you save the Gods? I wouldn’t even find you there. The Gods are cosmic hierarchies permanent in Their heavens, and They love it here, all-powerful Beings with worlds to play. We applaud Them and move on.
Can you see this? It’s what we’re doin’ on planet Earth. We will bring our higher selves here to inhabit bodies on physical Earth, our bodies, in evolution’s slow curve. Who we are on high will be who we are down below, the monumental change hidden in the size of Earth. We will get there, and existence will have its heaven right here. Will you notice this in your room? It’s starting on our tops now, and here I am showin’ it to yah in sudden starts. Greatness lies wait. Okay, global consciousness, and we’ve found our solution to the room, present Supermind.
These are the high stakes. We’re in the water now. Who we gonna tell? Come on kids let’s go. We have a world to feel. Keeps yah on your toes. This is the most important thing to hold onto to: challenge the window. We don’t beg each other’s fences. Here everybody that’s a whole Earth. The lesson in the window: through a big difference we see it all.
Bring in a new game. How was Earth made? It has a special core, the universal core. How do we evolve what do we evolve? We can hack other Minds. Clarity Grace is not just a name. It’s an power, one of a kind for Earth. Kings are not just patriots. They’re criminals in their own kind. We should put some cushions under the Earth. We just dream of a perfect life. [the above verse Nithish’s muse, my 12-year-old grandson, what he heard right where mine left off, ending this poem. He’s named his new Beagle puppy Clarity Grace.]
The universe has hit me, and we saw it happen the universe of Nithish, not quite done. You’ve gotta figure we’ve got a friend with some God, the cosmic hierarchies Mother and Sri Aurobindo. You’ve got to figure we’re in liaison with some God. It’s the mailman in a blue truck open to Supermind at every pole.
Nithish and I taking a selfie together for this poem
This poem was written for the trustees of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry, India, and was given to them the only way correspondence can be, if you are not an ashramite or someone they know, by giving it in an envelope to Mr Puru at the photo room adjacent to the Samadhi, and whether or not he will pass it on is entirely up to him. The Samadhi is the tomb of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo, where people come to sit, meditate, and pray, which is located at the ashram.
We met these tomfooleries. Do you ever look at your own car? Can you be a better sadhak in wood, a better disciple of Sri Aurobindo? I lunge there: I spend my day in total concentration. This is a farmer on my land. I really till the soil. The concentration comes and goes, but it’s picked up time and time again. It’s fits and starts, all day long.
Can you be a better sadhak of Sri Aurobindo? I’m burnin’ on that ground. I clear my mind and find it’s there, for few certain minutes. Can we come back to this? I always do. I am disciple of Sri Aurobindo that always hears words my inner ear hears. I write them down through a voice recorder. My God I’m a seer someone said. No one’s said this yet. I’m just this guy with wood, if you see me on the street, held by my little boy.
He’s white and I’m black, as society sees us, an easy lesson in symbols if you hear. What color am I with him? I am navy green. That means he’s safe with me. What a spectacle for a pair of eyes. The racial mix’s intriguing, on the bandwidth of ourself. Don’t doctor this up. We’ve got infinity going for us, racin’ around, a whole field show. We do sadhana together. I be his teacher.
He’s not cloven foot. He stands on his sadhana too, a kid in grace and poise. Okay stand back. Here’s where we differ. Open the inner consciousness child. Reach in there and find soul. Open up in vision God. The Mother and Sri Aurobindo take those places so many times in his dreams and visions, and in his understanding of God. A child’s understanding basks in time. No matter, they are his guides and goads.
He’s opened the inner consciousness, and his poetry would map our Earth, if we but could give it time to breathe. School shoves it down his throat: hey kid, study for your exams? An exam is a holdover from the last institution: caveman you gotta learn this mile; it’s survival of the fittest. My God the lists against this kid are strong. It’s a wonder he’s even doing it, bein’ a vehicle of the inner voice. The inner lines are strong.
I know the doubt and fear cast on this. You would only see to know. His latest poem I include at the back of this email. His latest voice I include. We measure this by the strength of his ego. That’s not fair. A little kid’s sense wrote this.
Now here we are sittin’ at the back of this ego. And we mention the poet. I’m in the poem you see. Now listen to a story. I’ve given my kid the voice recorder. He might get a line. We are at the opposite pole of the Samadhi from the crowd. I’ve never sat there before. I'm with my other student Mithun, who hears inner music. I don’t got no more students but them.
A band plays. I hear the line “Ice cold Samadhi” just given into my inner ear, but my boy’s got the voice recorder occupied, whisperin’ in two lines of his own: “Rechargeable minds here, Olympus.” Here’s where it gets weird. Someone not connected with the Samadhi watch, not a staffer there, or so I think not, gets an eye on the voice recorder, walkin’ by the mountain. “Gimmie that.” No polite words were spoken, no considerations one, no respect none.
It’s here you’re doin’ sadhana, when somebody pops yah. All the gold comes out. I’m sorry to say none of mine did. In the ensuing conversations with this person and that, I just defended myself, and my boy there. I did not do what I was supposed to do: not react, but I didn’t tell one person off. I kept reaction out of my voice, to the degree anger and ill will I didn’t let show.
This I was careful to do. No one heard me. No one said a word. You know how this is gonna be reported: that son of a bitch lied and stole. You will believe your people, of course, but all things show themselves in time, and no one will be able to lie then, together or apart.
I’m left with a voice recorder I’ve used there now many years. I’ve written poems from that Samadhi, framed one and gave it to yah, “The Rotisserie of God”. No one has ever copied me, the reason I was told I couldn’t do it: everyone will. You think I’d of been discovered by now if it were a ruckus, but I can bring a pencil and paper if you insist. That leaves me with gold they will take from me there, when I come to pray. We will check you now every time. You know when a threat’s spoken. It’s the hatred in their eyes. We will harass you every time you come here. Can this not be what they really said?
Well Savitri asks for boons, from the spectre death. I’m not gonna ask for the blind to see. I’m just a sadhak not Savitri, but I hear you call my name, and can I write poetry sir on my voice recorder at the Samadhi? Well, I’ll wait. Now here’s the one I’m worried about. Can I enter the ashram gates without bein’ harassed? I’ll bring pencil and paper sir, until you tell me otherwise. No hidden cameras to record my voice I’ll wear. Do we have a deal?
Trustee please, are you spiritual? This is a Samadhi question. I live there in my heart all the time. I react, sure, but I’m there, and I live in vision. I see the world before my eyes a thing under creation. It’s being made right now. I hear this in vision, and you did too. “Ice cold Samadhi” means it was a frigid place emotionally, and where was this? It was in the situation I described. These men were ice cold, no warmth at all in their voice or in their eyes. Immediately they rose to anger, all riled upon themselves, and I’d had prevision of this, in that line of muse, just before it started.
The world rose there, before my very eyes, and I only saw it after it was over. Could help then? Well it sure helps in our conversation. I don’t think those men gathered the future before it happened. They were not focused and gathered. All came to put that foreigner in his place, like their reaction was natural the order of the day, like they weren’t doing sadhana. They acted like the inner voice had no place in Sri Aurobindo’s yoga. It was wrong.
Can I tell you something else? Well, my inner voice was right on. I forgot to tell yah… Some people say no I just made a mess. He wants to go over it look— my muse on where I’ve been. I’ve been to the moon and back, if you’re listenin’ to muse, and I’ve danced with the military on tactical nukes, a U.S. special forces commando. I’ve been in the heart and breath stop in Silent Mind, that hurried glance, and I saw the Gods in their tiers in Overmind, and on a rim of dreamless sleep, dived into the well of soul. Would you believe in overhead? The consciousness raises up there, like several meters, and there you find Supermind. Makes for a lot of poetry. Brief glimpses all, but I’ve seen what I’m sayin’.
I can go round about the world a penniless vagabond— 27 countries in 10 years. Do you have that faith? I don’t think you even learned Classical Greek. Translate Euripides into English verse, and you’ll gather strength in poetry. You also get good at it, in time. Took me 25 years, even after I started hearin’ it.
Now can we define the future poetry? The future’s got that in hand. I don’t understand. I’ve heard the future call my name, and you won’t show this to anyone? Paper airplanes every poem I’ve made? Make or break yah, these are not conventional teeth. Are you open to the divine? Candywood make or break yah, what you hear on the internet today.
I’m sorry I took it up, the internet speaker. I get laughed at and lauded. The latter’s not louder, but they’ve gotta eat too, the people on there for the breeze, and I might be seen soon by a pitchfork and a vital that hate me so much I go viral. Look there’s nothing in them, the threats I face today. The rotating officer is not interested in me. I’m not hurtin’ anybody. I’m not doin’ anything wrong. Now you’re starrin’ me, at your look see.
Oh well, do it to her face okay? Get another bad piece from her. You gave her a poem that said she needed to work on it, humanity’s tiger. Do people really wanna act like that at the ashram? A boy his hair, that’s what he does. I thought you’d notice they walk silly. Good idea, I’m talking about being human kind and loving to all who enter your gates.
You’re gonna have to, whadda you do? Really buckle down and be good to people, and her hair could be picked up too, and she could focus and concentrate, breakin’ along can reality period, yeah, yeah. Global, I even ask you to global change. Here it is you have a mirror. There’s broad stroke said it. There’s the yoga. Everybody makes mistakes. Would you offer this to the Mother?
Opening up kids, I agree with you. We don’t block them from society. We fathom them God. We don’t fathom them school. And they become there, on the journey to God a society rose. What do we hope by it? We get bigger than ourselves. His heart, a little boy rises his soul. A little boy rises I’ve been meanin’ to tell you. The expectation’s not the kid. It’s the consciousness. What’s this mountain? You wanna bring God into the world.
I tried to do a little explainin’ on boyness and the nature of man, on bein’ human. We are here for this. We need all our strength. Practice is another suite. Send it sweet. Did you get everybody put in this spirit? It takes the world to make it up. Blown up yeah. We made it here, in this section, to the touch of a magazine. Everything’s online, and this will be too, now or never.
Do you understand the flavor here? That’s the flavor of change. That’s the flavor of Harm’s End. These are bunk beds, and we live here, grandfather and his grandson you keep hittin’ at. Did I mention Douglas? Puts together his life with the Mother. A house is not complete without dogs, and we have four. They are the love of our life.
Our friend is on the roof, Narasimha, protecting my house if you should try to take me down. I don’t die. A divine worker is protected. This is what I’m aiming: the life divine. So much power, you’ll have instructions. May God bless you.
Your outer form was carried right. We are not derelicts or sinners. We are safe and sound. I’m will extra deep, alright? Okay, you have been warned. You don’t mess with divine protection, but are you really mean-spirited? Does the Mother cross your brow if you should hate someone? Okay your character’s on the table now. May you wish blessings for all. May you really hold the Mother’s hand.
I bear you no ill will. I’m not in a campaign to smear your name. I’m doin’ what I’m supposed to be doin’, here writing you a poem, now doing sadhana. I’ve changed the ticker tape in his life, that kid. Am I glad he met me with the divine. I’ve met you that way. That’s the story. Oh wait a minute daddy I wanna fix my lunch, one second. A purity of kid rose, a gracious cartoon. Now let’s survive this and become better friends.
You know it’s there, the fact of your will or consciousness behind a lesson. Okay, noted. Well it will transfer that it was made by the foreigner. Okay, spit on ‘im. I don’t think so. Your thought process in relation to your thoughts, and you pick them up randomly? Now that’s got uncle and brother, your bigger clothes, without AI. I’m here to help.
Paradise Things With Lyrics by S. Nithish
Reach for peace, but it’s a long jump away. It’s One stairs. Butterflies are our airplanes. They’re peaceful and calm. They can fly us to space. From there we need to walk.
There’s a place for everybody in the world. I did two steps: let the Light be the guide; my place is out of this world. We all have something that we should pass on. I do not have a turnoff button.
The ancient minds were better. They left out clues for us. They left out clues around the world. We should always say thanks. Stars were meant to be together.
You want to recognize you’re there dead. You can’t take a worldview. You’re not operating in that anymore. You’ve just died. This is serious business. It’s a wake-up call on the other side. The enormity of the shock takes your breath away. You’re just stunned, not knowing what to do.
Where is Jesus? Where’s the stars? No religion has showed up yet. You’re on your own, transitioning. It hurts. It’s just simply awful. You can’t stand it. You don’t want to be there. You don’t know how to be there. There’s no instruction manual. You’re dead.
But life has just begun, the dead life on the other side. You cry out for help. Someone hears you. Are they the right one? You don’t know how to do it, receive them. You’re just so confused. You open the door to faith. What you believed in on Earth has not abandoned you, and if you didn’t believe in anything, it comes now.
It’s tall and strange. This is not what you expected. It receives you one moment/limit at a time. [above words heard spoken simultaneously] You are not automatically taken in. You’re put up with. You’re just a person there to process. The compassion of the angels shows in fits and starts. You’re a long ways off from being received on their condition. You’ve got to glow first.
Bad times ahead, as you encounter what tripped you up on Earth, what got your goat, what you couldn’t handle, what you refused to see, what you licked and swooned over, what you didn’t know hurt you. You are put in these situations where you encounter dream. There is no home base anymore, no central mode, but you come back to yourself over and over. That’s your central lair: you are this being in time.
It runs roughshod over you you have to dream on. You don’t like it. It sucks. Slowly you get your feet under yah. You get used to the rhythm of see-saw death. You climb. You step up. You receive them, all these packages of people you knew in life that you made a storybook with. Some of these are reunions. You hold their hand. Some of these are joy-shock. You cling to each other. What we wanted on Earth we get here.
You’re in union. It lasts the length of a cup, and you’ve been given a solid measure, and you are ready to depart for other perfection. You see people there you hated in life or you did under. You do not enjoy this section. It’s compensation. You give them what they need, and you move on.
This is fair and certain: you have your encounters, and they show you life as oneness sees it. You can reject no one, and all morality’s based on this. It is oneness we spring from and what we manage living. We are here to be one. A deeper look arises from our journey. We go the distance to a greater life. A quest of the Spirit pulls on us, and we let it take us in its arms. We are higher now, lighter in spirit. We are so together now, and we’re ready for more.
I’ve taken you there, right to realization’s wings, when you become a ship on the other side sailing into God’s heaven. You’re right there at Heaven’s gates, the heaven of your pearl, the one you sing about to encounter God. You are not all together a central ship. Many heavens receive you, and many positions of Heaven there are.
Now let’s get goin’ towards the realization of life. You can open those doors here and redirect your life, and when you enter death, you are in kingdom. It’s not about dyin’. It’s about being prepared to grow up. We do that here. We do that there. Here counts more than there. Here is the rollercoaster of the fly-room.
These are conscious gates you see. Open up your life here, on this growth, and life will line up to receive you in all of the quests you need. Uncanny this, strong and large. You’re in good hands on this journey to your being’s growth. I’m countin’ it to yah precisely in measure with my life under the sun. I’m a conscious arrangement, and I poetry this to you now. Bombs away. Thank God it’s Friday. Thank God I’m not in your way.
Death’s a cookbook I jargon. I have a bunch of history books repair life. You want to read them now. Come on let’s go to field. I’m a happy bottom death. I’m a joy to the world. Just listen to me sing. I planet with Mr. Rogers, still have his medicine: I really love— bonding agent to the poems I write to you. Take me.
You wanna watch that video or not? It’s limited stairs, but I’ve baked you at hide and seek, and it’s all gone wrong. There is no leeway here. You just wanna get to where you’re goin’, without all the rough stuff. You don’t wanna lollygag. There’s Hell’s kitchen that will not move away from you, if you don’t come to. Where am I? Oh shit you got it. I’ve read your paperwork on that. It’s my own. We have been through these stages so many times. It’s a revolvin’ door. Just listen.
Hullabaloo on your spot, you have to be careful. You haven’t learned my draft yet. I’ve really gotten shadows. Van Helsing, here is monster’s lair, where you find them. Don’t scream yet. They haven’t caught you. Don’t realize your time, they will. Now I’ve put all the poise in, and this poem is right here with the market. How would you find after death?
Dally there coverin’ up our pickup spots. It’s the issue save a Lord. This a mode to deliver God. How does the call center get such a hideous head? Can you hear it’s divine element? Put it in your pipe and smoke it. That’s how we race cars. We local His feet put on, and divine reason we format His being, without that hunch. I don’t say black I say white. That’s not a dirty gun. That’s not a slave our gun. I get to know You. I know you do. Now be quiet. Are You mad at me? Put 10 extra effort, add rifle to your calling card. It’s now clear. Ah, open your eyes. You’re a divine endeavor.
And that’s what we die for. I mean God put us on to be human. I haven’t listened to His music, I haven’t listened to His song, I have to keep dying to put it on, and that’s the guitar, the way we become divine. This is street music. That’s what blesses us everyone. My God I’m arch-pink, and I’ve got subscriptions.
Each thing we revolve around God. This is a vehicle of thought. Wow, we’re in the ways with man. There might be the thought in there you wouldn’t even know exact, but it already fits the handle I have my hands on God. We want to broadcast that to where our being lives in time. We are on the way to Godhood, who we are in time. Bust out usually for lunch, on the wrong and us wanting to survive. We meet that with heroes. We do not let God down. That’s our humanity. I will pick it up one role at a time and deliver it from evil, following God behind the dust.
Death is not an entrapment. We get up by it and fly. We glory it all over us. The 18 store is closed, and we reveal something else. Can we run? We no longer die, just our bodies after a long field put on. We manifest the nature of God, right here on Earth, and we have conquered death and overcome pain, and that’s where we want to go with this. There is no such thing as a void of that, and if I fall short, this will be tied together with real humanism, with my humanity, and I will overcome this obstacle in me and in man.
Okay, email. In fact, put in the right notebook and send it out to the world. Principle the opportunity. Praise the window. It’s still goes into Mind, whether we read it or not on this post. It’s how we survive the culls on thought. It’s how we survive. I’m a limit-book on that. I go beyond the limits.
Thank you for coming you’re across the road, where death is not so bright. We are not in its envelope. It is not our keeper. It’s a son of a bitch. Between love and your loved one there is death. I am sorry this be. We can do nothing about it but die. If death were a person I’d shoot him, gouge his eyes out, but let’s be reasonable about this: the acceptance of death is the acceptance of pain. Death alludes us, will not let us explain reality in terms of trust and love.
Alright it’s there. So be it. Here’s some advice a gravedigger would give you, puttin’ your body to the worms. Bardo, I don’t know, it is a spiritual test, and we grapple with it till kingdom come. That’s the starlight. I’ve spoken death, wonderful news, that we survive its existence. Anybody hungry for oblivion? See you on the other side.
You climb out of sleep into death, and that wakes you up, thank God. Get out of the water, and be calm and clear-eyed towards death. It’s a menacing stair, so necessary to our birth. Taxman that’s true, but there is so much hope in this commercial.
We don’t even know what I did. I’ve raised the sky, took the furious route. I’ve given you diamonds, and I am loathsome to you, a real life pedophile, giving you knowledge in your sleep. What does woke mean? Join us, will yah, in the knowledge that you are one with and wanting to relate to anybody that can be related to, the mechanic’s store, to where we get enlightened, not a thought process a change of consciousness, a complete reversal as a matter of fact, and we see ahead of us divinity.
Put that in your woke starter and smoke it. That’s the system of wokeness. The miracle of other people, do you feel it? It stings sometimes. Take out your woke lists and pick me up. I’ve got a special offer for the people of the entire world. Kinda gets in your guns, doesn’t it.
Harm's End 