To copy our means of hidden vision,
look past yourself.
I like your style.
There’s no evidence.
Just close the back door.
You don’t know the universe is knocking on your door,
for centuries.
You’ve heard this wash before.
It just means somethin’ today.
I can get screwball with this
and really twist your arm.
The possibilities are endless
in the coming of lines.
You don’t know what that means.
It’s a soup actually,
and the ingredients come from the stars,
divine being’s realms,
or they register your soul.
Can you be a shoemaker?
It’s a combat zone.
So many voices pipe in.
Fuck you I’m gross.
See there?
We go beyond the devil
and have a moment of silence please
gettin’ back to Starbucks.
I’m a holistic speaker,
and I tell you a ride,
all in vision’s lair.
You know I see the world
as a representation in time.
This is in the node of my vision.
It eclipses the world at times.
I see straight out there
the nature of reality,
and then I cry for my boy
or get mad at my neighbor
and lose myself in shoes.
I can still feel pain
of the loss that humanity wears.
I cry for you sometimes.
Oh my God I’m Still Here,
can you believe it?
Okay I cry for you a lot.
Papa come back please,
and the government’s dug ‘im under
in how many places on this planet
right now
Marcelo says.
Oh that little boy touched me
through his mother
and sisters.
I lived that movie
and hold it high in my heart now.
Can we call it a real life event
brasilero?
I want you to know I don’t approve of this.
Can you believe the oppressor said this?
Feel the pain
of I want you I’m murder,
and all you did was disagree with me,
hold an opposing opinion,
in a state where that’s not allowed.
How often this does humanity
like it’s an edict of God.
Is God a dictator?
Look how many people wear these shoes
one dictator smiles.
Hup, two, three, four
the output of a nation at your door
to turn it against itself
and control you.
Even the meek and mild support it.
It’s not happenin’ now—
I think they say that every time.
No amount of support can suppress it,
and watch the world deal with China
and make this okay,
because they have the industry
and the arms maker
to sow compromise in capitalism
and threaten everybody.
Its citizens are expendable.
Just step out of line
or mention democracy.
Most don’t.
Iran and North Korea,
we have kill boxes there.
It’s a slaughterhouse really.
I’ve come to political lists
to give you examples,
but we’re talkin’ half the globe.
Makes you question God.
It’s not odd it’s the default mode
of government handles on populations,
what we guard against continually
it’s so prevalent in us.
Do you just stand and watch it happen again?
We don’t know how to fight it,
as the majority takes control,
the base man being human,
the mass mind.
It’s always derelict.
It’s usually mean.
You idiot;
you retard—
said Musk to an astronaut,
and what do we do with that?
Everyone’s delighted.
He’s our man,
just as hateful as the bunch of us,
just as mean.
Yep he’s ripe for the job,
the Department of Functioning Government.
Does anyone else see this
ask somebody,
and Trump will answer just as mean.
When do the disappearances start,
that’s the tell-tale sign every time,
when it starts.
No other sign you need.
Trump’s the default man again.
You get my barometer?
Purple ass in common,
oh Jesus,
basic a dictator basically.
What are you talking about?
You’ve polished balls and chains too
in the rule it over people’s dicks.
Oh my God those glass relationships,
it was a microcosm of the macrocosm
a simple history show,
and I live that history to myself
in rows of sorry.
It doesn’t take the choir to remind me.
Do you see it,
where you’ve been a dictator too,
even if it’s just been a jealous husband
or a teacher in control of little boys
or dictatorial parents
or some bossman on the job?
It might be the way you treat your dog.
It’s such a human disease.
It heaves society.
It brings society to its knees
in servitude.
Wake up.
And changed Earth’s story,
alive in theater,
the divine pick me up there.
Great experience
I know an experiment.
What is that?
What is it?
And no handle,
and now
we symbolize becomes our lives,
and that’s the new TV,
and we symbolize a greater show.
It’s in our schoolbooks already,
a manifestation of truth, justice, and liberty for all
into our very rooms.
You can’t see it yet I know,
but those meanings hold Earth today
in her manifesting spirit,
and I’ve come to tell you
it’s there for the seein’ now,
another way to think the Earth
and your role on it.
That’s big symbol us
and your glow on it.
Kinda makes yah release the prisoners, eh?
Let’s go.
It’s your thought’s glow.
Everybody watch it glow.
Life is a journey time got on.
Bag it,
all the glorious symptoms of God disappear.
The middle of man
will not shout our name
or even know we’re there,
yet the Godhead lives inside of us.
We’re not there
at its manifestation yet.
I’ve put it together in words
to hold our hands and move us along.
Ya’ll leave me alone.
You’re crazy.
But I’m a spoonful of God
completely outside
the reign of the dictator,
as my fashion words to you.
We are all in this disease,
when it’s called I be the one dictator.
School on it
the visionary of this poem.
Completely outside fashion dictators,
parents honey,
can you strong that?
Can you please?
That’s the handle on the world today.
There is where we begin,
and you know I’ve said the truth.
I’ve been here anyway
championing my little boy come home.
You know he’s unbelievably sad,
crushed,
spent,
under total domination
that won’t let up,
simply because his parents is jealous of me,
no other reason.
I’ve got to show you its price
so you can come up with my poem,
get these lines down,
so we can heal our world.
It’s on fire.
Tag: God
A Trailer at Sky Noon
Have we always been human
and universal Brahman?
I killed 14 people.
Frying that up,
do I lose my humanity?
Back to the recent times.
Are people just badder than before?
What can we say about humanity?
You know I’m countin’ sheep.
We drag clothes wear.
This is not our first costume.
Where do we come from?
Do we come from ugly,
or do we come from good?
Do we come from the chaos down under,
spawns of hell that evolved to light?
We’ve been in the engines of the universe for a long time.
Are we emerging,
or was this a soul’s fall
into matter’s plight,
great heavens we wore
and then lost it all
in a sudden decision?
Are we universal existence
lost in individual chains
goin’ through trapdoors all the time?
How does our unity play?
How deep does our unity go?
Do we evolve together or separately?
You think the protozoa created us
scientific doctor,
and we emerged to man,
no soul in the machine,
no universal existence beforehand,
no Brahman with his gun.
The fish in the sea
are our ancestors on high.
We dream of being human again
you idiot,
where life meets the universe
on every frustrate world.
Is this all there is pond?
I can speak from my crash course in reality,
and we have scales of being
that rip us off
and brighten our days
and sometimes hold nothin’ with us
in the great majority of cases.
There’s the earthling man,
the universe revolves around this?
I have more fields to show
the origin of the universe wears.
I’ve poked my head out of the sky
and seen more than I can show.
You don’t know what it means to look beyond
and carry the glow of the universe
like it’s your backyard.
I’m a small man in Earth shoes
bustin’ at the seams with immensity,
and I can give you a ride home?
I ride these poems too,
and I’m a bucket in the sand
joinin’ reality with you.
We have more roles to play,
don’t you see?
And even existence is not all we are,
but let’s get down to Earth, shall we?
We are not the demon’s room.
We do not come from hell.
Escape it is our price—
a real punishment
you don’t need to worry about
all existence long.
And we were not once Gods,
and now we are men and women,
but of Godhead we did wore.
We come from beyond the universe
to inhabit these fields of clay.
We are existence before existence
in the planetary field ride.
We are burning suns each and every one,
to use the symbol that ignites the universe.
We come from on high.
We are principle actors in a principle game
that has stars for robes.
I just spoke the alcoholic’s din bin,
the wayward president his lair,
the child molester in bed with a child,
and the tax collector at your door.
I can get muddy these
or just be an ordinary house mum
or field husband
or kid in school
dreamin’ of what will become of me.
Lift up your eyes sweetheart.
There is more to come.
There’s the Diamond in the room,
and all your lives lead to that
as in the making of a star,
the crash and founding of a universe,
and we can be there kids.
We can be there
in great lone moments
of the direction at noon.
We can see the sky,
have great Earth thoughts
that make us feel God inside
and hurry this along folks.
Yah hear me kids?
You Lift on a Stroke, There’s a Dog Shelter
A video-photo-poem, my own design, on its material level this is a promotional video for the Auroville Dog Shelter in Auroville, India. It’s the aim of this video art to take that material into the spiritual realms and beyond. To send donations to the shelter, go to this link: http://www.aurovilledogshelter.com/
A Picture to Heal My Headquarters
This photo-poem was posted to Twitter/X February 11, 2024. In vision it came to post it here. All photos by the author except photo one, which is by Douglas
A Shoulder in Immensity
I wanted to die.
Everybody knows how to die.
Sufferin’ from panic disorder
my only friend.
I have no comfort in anyone,
and this woe is me will not say it properly.
I cannot believe
I have no worth to anyone.
I’m just a field of crap,
and I have seen God’s eyes,
feel the world’s pain like my own.
I sit in a height of thought
where almost no footing is.
I’ve taken you there
in our thought realms unawares.
The All-Negating Absolute has me by the throat,
and even God is buried in immensity.
I cannot discover God one last time
as who we need in immensity.
3:33,
28-years-old,
I can’t give God the proper numbers.
He is too right and wrong.
Mexican,
He took my pants off and raped me at seven.
It hurt too much to tell anybody.
I was cleaved.
Why am I telling you this?
Afraid to tell anybody,
I put back action
comin’ up in the rear.
Squealin’ inside me,
they crossed death too
a courier
of the same disease,
those little tummies.
I can’t give you molten lava
and expect you to cherish me.
I can’t even say my name.
I’m a brick in a wall
that you don’t identify with,
bricks in the same wall.
Up here,
I’m a way
to photography that wall,
to hold it out open to daylight.
I’m a measure of that peace,
but you can’t come to terms with me.
I’ve sinned to much for God cares,
or I remind you of sin.
I’m an enigma with an open door.
God the carnage at Troy,
sit back everybody
and tell me what hero came home.
The canonical field of Troy.
Do it again,
I stand before you now.
Will you hear me?
We swim in oceans of blood.
Don’t underestimate
life.
There’s a moment
before you
when you can give it to the challenge
it tasks a man with,
and he must stand alone in immensity
and be the voice no one wants to hear
turning every ear on
to a future in ideas
that will save us all
come that future,
whether I’m the voice that says them or not.
See me today
sittin' with you holdin’ your hand
likewise tell me
the world has turned its back to you too.
A pencil in agony,
it’s too early to tell,
and I’m a measure of that immensity.
So brothers and sisters,
I’d help you.
Those tummies are in good hands.
You cannot electrify them like that,
put them on lurch
little boys and little girls.
A needle in a haystack
give you a tap.
Raise Supermind,
I’d be one in the world.
Get ‘im a chair
to latch from our very disease
and bring us all to peace.
You know how it works:
no ignoring you
world enigma.
My OMs are here.
My front door’s open.
Enjoy a body of ideas.
Do it again,
I’m really intercepting your thought.
Playing God
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.
The Last Outcast
We all understand tomorrow.
I’m goin’ somewhere.
It’s not dishes.
I find my boy,
bring him home to me
and do something bigger than life
right there in my homegrown.
It’a about my consciousness and its see.
I arrive my boy first,
giving him healing.
This is a new brand
we will get good at
so it can be mass-produced.
I’m in enlightenment shares
healing my boy,
a spiritual consciousness override.
They’re dealing with
a mass showdown.
Right now it’s all black.
Not even a pinpoint of light
gives hope.
It’s all gone,
the whole save my boy plan,
and spiritual practice
has fallen by the wayside.
I’m merely drifting
to no ends.
I count my stupidities now,
where I am half-crazy in rants.
I sound good on a piece of paper:
I’m gonna see my boy;
I’ll get that spiritual consciousness again;
it’ll all work out.
I talk to his parents
like I have the power of God.
His parents have the absolute power to rule his life.
I just make them mad and guard him more.
You’d think I’d learn by now
my voices are deceiving me;
my voices are derailing me.
You’re in trouble.
You’re on a stage.
Are you there
with anything bigger than life?
The world’s not gonna listen to you.
Everyone ignores your pleas,
and your knowledge don’t turn anybody’s head.
You just sit there and sing.
This is the gist of life.
This is how almost everybody feels the world.
It’s impotence sings.
I’m a diamond in the hall.
I’m on top of everything.
I really know my business,
and I understand the rise of the world.
I don’t spit there.
I feel humanity like it’s my very self.
I can see the cutting edge of time.
Movements I see,
world shaping movements,
that give me a great yard.
I’m of few people see them.
Now I come back to myself again.
I’m not the stupid guy.
I have reason to believe
my boy’s comin’ back to me,
and I will put on the Silence once again.
It’s evidence
I can get big as the world in tellin’;
I can wrap the hours around God,
and I can make you examine yourself
in your hands on children.
You sit there and believe me,
some of you,
because you hear the angels sing
in this poet’s gut.
I’m a strong one you know,
and I hold up the world
an Atlas unknown.
I really do it,
take the ideas that change the world
and transmute them into verse,
one rocket at a time.
You know I’m there
because I love you
in that special formula
that makes you feel me
in the very place we meet,
in the intimacy of a poem
that’s got handles on it
that bring the world closer to you
as God sees it,
dangerously in love.
You must have some
grace
to journey this day.
It’s the vulnerability of a poet
I give it,
just role of bein’ hallelujah. [line heard sung to tune of Leonard Cohen’s song “Hallelujah”]
You doin’ okay?
Great Fields Earth
What is the reality of love?
Also whisper.
Facebook items,
the key story
homes.
Nothing else taps it.
I go through generations.
Hear what was going on,
my falsehood—
I will stop him from going into silent night,
silent ground.
But the graces of life
protect me,
and I look over it.
I’m a field study.
I’m an alpha nigger,
higher than perfume.
I get into cars,
laptops and computers,
and go the distance.
I recharge my phone
with the very ground of being.
I am so low I see high.
Humility has me by the balls.
I come upon sudden mastery.
I’m not about to endanger your skies,
and I have the formula for world change.
We can’t brag about it.
It’s hard on all of us.
I just sit here and die in my tin can,
and then all of a sudden I’m walkin’ the moon to its orbit.
I have the sun in my eyes,
and I don’t blink.
I know the power of the world.
I am sure God’s there.
I see Him on His rounds.
I am commensurate with that
on the top of myself at dawn.
Nowhere in my being reaches that
but there.
It’s a knowledge I breathe
that I can’t get out of,
and I’m a little man doing little things
as the day wears on.
I don’t pride there.
I’m never alone.
My inside is full of deity.
You better be careful.
I’m on the standin’ line of deity watchin’ the world,
because I know They’re there.
We need to open up and see this in each other.
We are both stations of God,
you and me reader.
I die there sometimes
the knowledge is so heavy, immense.
I just stand and take it
and come back to joy before long.
I know the knowledge that made the worlds,
and it tears me apart,
because the power does not come to me
to change one single goddamn mind,
to reach out and be seen,
heard,
to bring my child out of trouble,
to even know the wind of the day.
I am a barrel of monkeys
to what it takes to perk up the world,
and I have seen the world
from God’s eyes,
in a station beyond the universe
right here intimate with man,
a few glory-filled seconds,
long enough to know the origin of all my lives,
long enough to know that I am He,
long enough to look up and see more.
You would not know what I’m talking about.
It’s bigger than size and measure.
It’s what the worlds was made.
I can’t get away from that vision now.
Oh how we but little grasp our day,
little doings we try to put in big pots,
but I know the pot you see.
Can I study you the stars?
They are wonderful in magic,
are the Heavens we adore,
but they do not bring us to God,
and it’s God on Earth wore.
Can I tell you about history?
Knock, knock,
God is entering every room on the planet
to happen here.
This is inevitability rides the sun,
and the years are carrying us there,
one by one,
evolution’s minutes wrote.
Are you startled to see this?
This is not a junk call.
This is the hypotenuse of time,
and high and lonely seers,
we grasp this with our hands
and spill the beans to you.
Are you sure you’re puttin’ me on hold?
I have more to tell.
I’m gettin’ down to bare bones now.
I’m showing you creation’s ways,
and I can see the world arise
right in front of me.
Awesome, ain’t it?
What do we do with it?
We put it in its place.
We don’t let it get away from us.
We know that every day can
work out the formula of impossibility
and solve it.
I’m referrin’ to us,
where we love each other and why,
and how do we make that love true?
It’s the danger of the years,
love’s high gamble
in the face of certain death.
We lose each other you see,
and that just kills us.
We hold our loved ones we hold death.
How’s that for a keeper?
What brings the salvation
before we cross that gap between love and death?
A spiritual consciousness
that’s bigger than us,
and I’m sorry there’s no other remedy.
Love hurts.
Enlightenment’s wings
unheed pain,
and we do not suffer the pain of loss.
I’m there you see,
in loss looking at the spiritual consciousness.
I’ve put it on a time or two,
short flashes
that tell me know it’s there.
It’s surety that rings it,
sooner or later.
Now laugh at me, slap me, ignore me;
I’m on ground-field Earth
liftin’ up the sky.
Shoot me;
I’m a real thing,
a genuine who done it,
made the grass match the stars.
Roll the planet down,
and I’ll ride it like a speaker.
Yah hear me kids?
This is what’s going on,
and God opens His eyes.
Tryin’ to interview Pitch Thought about his character,
you gotta draw the line somewhere.
Ode to the line,
a good friend to you,
I think your security blanket,
and I’m a top down answer.
I had a momentary experience.
It’s all written.
I had a visionary experience
of every local thing on Earth
realizin’ dream
to catch up with God,
and you had just told me look bread.
Oh, I didn’t realize it was me.
Anyway,
look bread.
To Employ New Arms Men
When you meet people,
it’s said to have a book confession.
Don’t you like camera?
There goes
my hand in.
Unlimited her tools,
creation mother.
I am really serious about my tea.
I don’t pick up girls at happy bars.
I’m bigger than that.
No I live and learn.
I too must lift the curtain of worn-mind.
I can’t go overboard.
I have to go to somewhere.
I can’t get there too quickly.
We challenge each other,
and you hear that basket in my house:
my gravities have to be steady.
I can’t pull the plug on reaction
until I’m right where I need to see it.
I’m pretty much a whole too.
I see my desires.
I’m not habituating them,
and the sex chakra says no.
Hang on,
to the orgasm out the top of the head
I am loyalty tower.
I guess that’s way
I rise behind this consciousness
and enter the Silence again.
Astronaut,
I am that astronaut
torn the curtain
between Nursemind and Supermind.
Okay,
if I get mad at you
for up us in Elvis,
I should just poet you shut up.
Is Goofy’s rig not bad for sellin’?
I’m at the end of my
ferter of dynamite.
You are all young.
It’s a bit of closed up there.
Can’t touch the Gods.
It’s not me
didn’t see.
That’s some awesome shit.
I’m half-grown.
Did you bring it one possible?
Here it goes.
Been there done that,
I need you to do that,
then study me some.
Boy do I look different.
Comin’ here’s comin’ here;
I tried
comin’ here for basketball,
and it left me singin’ monster.
I think you should just go inside.
He’s finished with the pencil,
he’s ready for the expense.
The world is not there
with any street signs on it,
how about that?
Horse please,
you can’t see the world
as a substantial form.
It’s a bare outline.
You’ve lost the world right in front of you.
It kinda gets me in my brother,
and everything’s silent don’t you see
you’re in the background noise?
Oh God it’s principle arrangement.
There’s nothing in your pockets.
You’re not tryin’ to get anything.
There’s no motivation on your own.
The world is just there,
and your oyster’s not in it.
You’re stunned.
You’re taller than mankind.
You’re deep in the Silence,
and you come upon God ways.
We’re almost there.
Just shimmy up that tree
and stop field mouse.
I’m breathin’ hard,
but I’m right there at the gun
a pageantry.
Don’t throw me away.
I know the business,
and I put two and two together.
My little boy’s the land rover
that principles enlightenment.
He’s got the starry list,
and I’m in my union circle.
Is no ants get to bar.
He gets held and catered to,
healed,
and I reach the 5th dimension.
I’m a bullpen
for he comes home tomorra.
I’m in the Silence come home.
Enlightenment is it,
a shoulder's worth.
Whispering Softly at the End of the World How Loud I Sing
This poem has been published by Edge of Humanity Magazine: https://edgeofhumanity.com/2024/11/11/harms-end-blog-by-donny-lee-duke-whispering-softly-at-the-end-of-the-world-how-loud-i-sing/ and has been posted at The Skeptic’s Kaddish, in David’s Poetry Partner series. He wrote a companion piece: https://skepticskaddish.com/2024/08/27/whispering-softly-or-screaming/
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.
Harm's End 