Tag: God

To Employ New Arms Men

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, PoetryLeave a comment 
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

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, Poetry2 Comments
photo by the author

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.

What the Mother Said

On By Donny Lee DukeIn childhood education, PoetryLeave a comment
All photos by the author
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.

And You Got the Moe Hole / At the Infinity Yard

On By Donny Lee DukeIn applied nonduality, ego activism, PoetryLeave a comment

photos by the author
A star is born
between us.
He never did intended to become Puget Sound.
All about its eternity:
let me be the souls you can stand on.
[above line heard sung]
Believe it, huh,
go back to Hollywood,
where we find poetry today,
where conscious entertainment walks with her fascist
in pearls.
When she gets to the Lake,
when she gets to their alone in the dark,
fascist quivers.

God grows in the hours,
takes His first steps
in the wherewithal of man,
in the audacity of man,
in the growing of man.
We’re here.
This is our livelihood.
This is our pain.
We kiss each other with this.
We kill each other with its denial.
We play together
God-children.

I cannot fathom this.
I look at it and stars,
but there’s no name that I can put on.
No concept carries this.
It billows out a jutting of nature,
seemingly meaningless.
Where is righteousness in That?
And godhead?
The forms of things are too much for me,
billowing God.

My God I think I will lose the world
just sitting on a park bench.
It’s embarrassingly strange.
I can’t feel this
with godhead fingers.
I only see the road ahead
in headlights of my be.
Frozen fingers point to frozen books
that spell this out to me,
and I’ve been there,
where God sits
billowing Earth.
I cannot contain that now.
I don’t even know where it is
in all this hullabaloo.

I am beside myself with this seeing,
and I can’t take the world.
It is all too deep and meaningful.
What gave rise to forms at all,
that He should inhabit them?
Weird has me by the hand,
and I love it there.
The One who inhabits forms
has bequeathed the world to me.
I am a passion of its movement.

This marriage of life with form
brings out the good in me.
I can access myself,
ponderin’ realities.
I am here I told you,
inside myself,
a multiple see.
Can I scrub my room?
I can sure get down on myself.
What do I have special that’s given me form?
How indigenous to the moment I can feel foreign to myself,
and I see aliens in spaceships
where people pass me by.
So alien world this,
a feature of the Void.
It rocks.

I’ve about had it with this.
It’s too much to see.
It overwhelms me.
I infinity stare,
and the forms of things are will-o-wisps around me,
like existence cannot last
in countless time.
Will it all never be?

I want to look at it from there:
I know I’m the One.
I’d like to sit in a thoughtless temple
and feel absorption unto myself.
Do you know that ride?
I spin it on my head,
so close to realization’s axis
I can just
realize it’s there.
I can’t climb into the module.

This is dynamite,
and I’m happy to have it
for a little while.
Can you shoulder my room?
I don’t think you’d lift there.
It would scare the daylights outta yah.
It’s ungrounded you see,
in infinity’s swirl.
You can’t touch the side and bottom,
but the Top is smilin’ down at yah.
The larger You is looking in on you,
where you meet waves.
You’re naked in front of Him,
and this is good business
cause you get soothed.

And that’s a ring around
the wherewithal of That.
It holds your hand,
and you can see it better
unhinged.
The wisdom of insecurity Watts said.
He had no idea.
I’m a public project.
Come up here,
and we can manage some
how we find hope.
I’m a clear regard.
You can see eternity from here.

But I’m about my room
where I gather field.
I do stuff.
I get things done,
cook and model people,
deliver them to sum.
I can see the problem:
starward,
we don’t gather ourselves there,
or neglect
this great big motion field play,
like it’s normally down.
If you do that those have been cleaned:
a stranger looks at time’s eyes.
You will last the night.
You will hunger some
for realization’s pinnacle,
but you will certain see.

A joining:
hey look at this picture
with my other one,
internal
let it go from here:
daddy! daddy!
Kid’ll give you a pin down
of where things go.
Realization’s coils
the delivery room.
You’re okay there.
Okay you’re up.
This is a violet test:
come warm infinity
through halls of room.
We will give you another mile.

Vision of matter
materially investigated,
I guess that first step.
But isn’t she gorgeous?
That guy
is free,
free for both of us,
because May after we have to do another one,
where we inhabit this planet Him.
We will live in freedom
pronounced by God.
Join me there
on your eraser,
and erase all lines but God.
What do you see?
Perfect freedom.

Euthanasia of the Spirit
you entertain anything else but God.
That was a bad night switch,
to lose this from our origins,
but we’re back there at bright staples today.
Any way you look at it
12 noon.

I’m so sorry for this point.
I just wanna rub my face off.
I’m a graveyard
of the best intentions.
I feel so inadequate to time’s doings.
I can’t even communicate with you,
where people are heard these days.
Nobody can find my stuff on Twitter.
It got shadowbanned.
I don’t know how WordPress
is gonna treat the length of these poems.
YouTube knocks down videos,
and even though I’m there I’m not.

Do you every have the certain futility to look,
I mean at the sky and everything?
It just mows yah down,
the big of everything.
I’m here I said,
and yeah that’s little.
I can fit into a little cup
of everybody’s been here.
That blasts, you know?

And here’s where I’m hooked.
I can see the bigness,
and I know I’m its business.
How do I lavish to you the plan
to be where poetry finds you today?
Can I say the arc of poetry
all along this poem?
I want to speak need,
not measure,
where we find each other today
in the lifting of our room.
Come to me I’m poetry,
is that where I find you?
Shadowbanned in Carnegie Hall,
this is the price is right
to write poetry.

I’ll go the rhythm.
You know I’m 10 feet tall.
In this culture
the number one is
never far from shoot.
You hold steps right about now
to that escapade.
Oh boy Rainbow Nagar,
he can express His eyes when he speaks,
but he put a poem out
that grabbed them in the poetry,
Muse India.

And I’m an indicator
of where we find poetry today
in India.
That is not on our streets.
It’s not even in our cars.
It’s just billowin’ in the wind
unread and unheard.
Hear me people?
Oh I can’t stand this new poetry.
It juts out like a wad of nature
and surprises yah in your sleep,
all this regard,
and that,
and all eyes on God.
Can we land poetry today?
It’s got me by the book.
And I’m reading you
time said.

I’m Sorry, I Made That

On By Donny Lee DukeIn applied nonduality, ego activism, seer poetryLeave a comment

feature image by Donny

An opportunity
Kozar. [vision of a mean-looking person coming to a line of people and slapping someone near the front of the line so hard they fall to the ground and then doing the same to someone towards the end of the line]
He didn’t quit.
‘Cause you make it,
you always make it.
This is not a spiritual Disney Land.
This is not great,
but it has awareness in it.

I’m feeling the world.
I’m feeling my own inadequacies.
I love my dog.
This is great,
such warm sunshine,
and my little boy,
he carries my heart around on his sleeve.
I carry his form around in my eyes.
He’s wonderful to look at.
Those are my propellers,
and I love to be successful with them:
that little boy gets what he needs,
that Rottweiler.

I measure my life by this,
how successful I am with people.
Do we all stand here?
He’s form to look at,
that one sittin’ there.
It must be Himself,
the divine in the room,
all the way to God.
This is not just some form in my head.
Oh my God it’s God,
tangible, real.

How do I count this to you?
I don’t think it’s possible.
Ultra-dimensions pass on through each other
and come hold hands with my life,
like they know me.
That street sign,
it has my name on it.
That t-shirt
beat the impossible.
See that beggar?
Hump that one.
And God waves at yah.
It comes and goes.
India is the attitude of the divine.
You’re not gettin’ it.
It would not be an information folder.
It’s not a belief system.
I’m right there.
I’m not shaking like a leaf.
12 o’clock
I can see divine process,
and you’re saying probably the hardest thing to say:
you’re meeting deity on your terms.

This is not major broadcast news.
Who wants to hear about it?
I stand, I see, I know God.
It’s not like you think,
all fire and brimstone.
It’s love.
The patience They have can move mountains.
I’m all stacked up God,
individual deities in the room too.
They just love yah to death.

How do we measure Them?
Okay I’m human, You’re divine,
and let’s get this point across.
Come here—
like my Rottweiler I can’t say no.
They hand me.
It’s wonderful.

Okay you can’t see Them.
How do I call out to you?
You’re my bro, see.
They are not yet my next of kin.
It’s this gulf/divide. [words spoken simultaneously]
They come here in representation.
Representation divides my room.
I can’t bite the hand that feeds me,
but it’s all aglow.

What do we do with all this see?
Show it to yah.
You’ll deny it.
You won’t like it.
But the mountain has some of yah,
if you’re wide awake,
and God’ll think you’ll die,
you can’t hold ‘im.

I would take you to summer school.
Hop on my bus.
It’s crowded.
Who will my drink companion?
I’m lookin’ at an empty bus.
Well here’s lookin’ at yah kid.
I’m all full of deity.

Why can’t I transform?
Okay, I’m still in ordinary consciousness.
What’s the deal?
Flash floods,
people just crowd me out of God.
They’re my touchy-feely reality.
I have to live with them.
It gets bigger all the time,
the living room of embodied existence,
I mean the people interacting with mine.
Okay, get rid of it.
That’s not possible.

I have to live up to you,
and Douglas I do.
That’s my partner.
Where do we go with all this human?
You can’t tell ‘em you’re out to lunch.
All this density defies deity,
or does it?
Density of human being,
can we control that?

Density of human being we can get better.
We can put everybody at their stations
and have a crowded room to ourselves,
when our very own room is impossible.
I know how to do that with that boy,
put him to his whatever.
This takes timing and security.
You have to know when to go in
and realize you’re safe to do that.
You’re buildin’ walls
that don’t keep people out as much as you in.
You see the lighter?

Instructing my house,
arguably a bit more busy than yours.
I think the magic has to go to the transformation.
We’re opening divine consciousness.
It’s the deity in the room.
Oh and speaking of which,
for love of Rottweiler
I do not control this poem.
Do you know how lovely a Rottweiler is?
I’m here for deity.
I mean I must be.
I wanna be.
It’s not happenin’.

They’re there for me.
All the dogs burst through the door,
have joined me on the bed.
Oh those dogs.
Now listen,
I’m giving you instructions I’m gettin’.
Bruno’s eating a pair of shorts.
Bruno!
A blow by blow poem. [actually describing events in my room as they happen]
Now take this job and shove it.
Can we trust divine process?
It’s so large.
It destroys us.

Alright poet clear the room.
I’m not killin’ yah.
Even when it’s got our good at heart,
it makes us lift the human race higher than we are
every time we say the word.
I’m expressive of deity.
I am so expressive of human.
Everything’s a divine moment you see.
I can’t get over it.
I’m gonna go pet my Rottweiler.
There are no complications there.

A reader is left wondering what to do,
and you know I’m listenin’ too.
Turn God into slime,
or silly putty,
just stay sober.
I’m gonna
go to every page of this diary.
I’m not gonna be a fool.
I’m gonna put my relations on rightly:
stand back and see God,
all the time.

Weird Alf,
take it from here.
Oh no it’s terrible.
You know I’m talking about mocking videos,
Auroville infighting,
all this irony,
all these videos.
Sit down.
Well he has never failed on your science test.
Wait his test.
You’ll get caught up in something,
and you’re not the angel in the room.
We say nobody’s perfect.
What we mean is
wow, nobody’s good.

Now, starting with the elementary school,
we’re gonna look through that door.
Where gonna look
at God see there.
It has a hand on your life
that your dog can show you.
You can put your foot down,
and the dog knows you’re his master,
or you can look at that tea kettle.
It’s an attention grabber.
Now we can go to that military tank.
No it’s not aimed at us.
It’s protection.

How do we find God?
Well I’ve given you the first number:
I made a mistake.
It happens to the best of us.
I’m having one
big relationship
with the world through God.
Now listen,
you have to pick God up somehow.
It’s not done by books and tea stories.
There are no other eyes but God,
and that’s half the equation.
God sees even without eyes.
It’s not a blind relationship.
You’re all over it.
You’re there in the midst.
Peel back the walls.

Boy double field have I done.
I don’t know, a counter offensive.
Take back the city of Kyiv.
We’re military commanders.
We’ve got to get our capitol straight.
That’s the only thing holding us up for war.
The military is on my side.
We let the divine victory go ahead.
This is major defeat for the enemy.
You can’t give them soosh anymore,
that sudden life force
they get from bad relations.
These are not human creatures.
They’re the anti-divine.

Fuck all this raincoat.
That’s a blow off statement.
I’m a pop singer.
I’m going to bring you down to science.
God is not cultivated clay.
God is right there in your room.
You can’t get nothing out of Him.
You’re a pauper when it comes to purpose.
You have no burning need.
Notice God is there
when life can’t go on without Him.
This is an apple yard.
I don’t think despair has you by the throat.
You’re not in hell on earth.
That’s another kind of find Him.

You’re really restricted.
There is no room for you in society.
You try to keep up appearances.
You can’t define yourself.
You plainly see your inadequacies,
and you need help.
This is beyond human repair.
I wonder to suicide,
or I’m scarin’ to Mexico.
It’s got so bad he wants to bring something back.
These are the circumstances to bring God into my life.
I don’t care about the double feelings.
God to come in.

You wanna contact with the two brothers.
I pick the color O’Neill. [spoken in Douglas’ voice]
Taste sweet.
I think gonna sell the island.
You mean he’s gonna be known by the public?
Did he bite you?
No he didn’t. [vision of Nitish running off a street dog with a stick, and it seemed like it bit him, but it didn’t. I’m speaking the two lines to him in the vision]
There is protest.
There is this one
say it here,
and I watch while the balloon take me.
But you'd probably think it bites living in an Amish paradise. [heard sung by Weird Al, “Amish Paradise”]
It was God don’t wanna tell yah.

Where do we rose the poem,
an Amish simplicity in Auroville?
I think we’re talking to everybody.
Great Thou art.
No need to wear homespun clothes,
get all down and dirty
in fixin’ crops.
You can be an urbanite,
or not.
Where we come simple is God.
He’s the keeper
of our relationships human.
We look at all things through Him.
Can you envision this?

Now fight that crowd
God in the flesh.
We are only meeting ourselves.
Nobody has it right in Auroville.
Divine consciousness came.
I think you all spit on it.
Is there anyone on earth that doesn’t?
Few of you.

On top of Auroville
divine process happens.
You would not like to know I’m there.
I’m sorry,
this happens.
An Amish simplicity round house,
I’m doin’ the best I can.
Could you meet me up there?
Luna Rottweiler, photo by Donny

The Poem of the Benediction

On By Donny Lee DukeIn applied nonduality, childhood education, ego activism, Inner Voice and Vision, seer poetryLeave a comment
photo by Donny
Their love of yoga,
all that had to do with the divine.
The divine is alive and well on Planet Earth.
He sees you.
Can you hear ‘im?
Made out to be a man,
but really She’s a woman,
when you get right down to pictures of Her
in the caretaker of Her smile.

A Mother Might looks out on the world,
and we are all the better for it.
Let’s change some,
become ourselves again,
as children see the world:
it glows,
oohs and aahs;
it’s bigger than us,
and we love it.
Gimmie the beat boys and free my soul. [heard sung by Dobie Gray, “Drift Away”]
You know how it feels,
so good to be alive.
Thank you Mother.

Now I’m dancin’ on this ice.
I don’t know how to explain this.
Oh Mother,
that’s not You in Pondicherry,
but I think we lifted You up
when we adored her feet.
I call on You through her,
as our yoga sees the world,
and in perfect deity fashion,
that woman in Pondicherry helps.
She’s in my living room.
Now do we count blessings?
I am in the arms of the Mother, you know?
She fills out for me
the way to move forward.
I call on her some,
but she is not my image of God.
I mean like I do sit in her lap,
pettin’ my Rottweiler,
but I’m lookin’ at God.

I can tell you a lot about deity.
There are waves of them.
I listen to them all the time.
I mean, I hear them speak.
I’m not always at their beck and call,
and I’m choosy.
I want those Sun voices way up there.
They’re wonderful.
They have our divinity all over them.
They gauge us there,
and they point us to God,
the supreme all-encompassing universe
that existence can light,
and it’s a conscious Individual all things are.
Don’t let my words get in the way.
God is how we meet the One on its time.
I’m talking big you understand.

All this agency gets down to us,
the level of existence we’re at—
I think I just heard God.
God will talk to you in spheres.
That’s what divinity is for,
and each time we mistake the day for the sun.
Conversations with God
are conversations with some deity.
How much freedom to understand that.
It’s yoga based,
if you want to know the truth.
We want to be God’s lovers here on earth.
We want to know God here on earth.
We want to see God here on earth,
see God in everything we see,
and one day,
God will ride us
who we are in time.

I’m breakin’ in on barriers
to show you God,
and these words have failed I know
to overcome that last barrier,
to understand God real in this sentence.

Can you light the fire of God?
This is not a proverbial question.
I’m askin’ ‘cause it hurts
you if you don’t,
hurts you in the fundamental ground of reality.
You can envision no one cares.
You can’t smuggle up to reality
and say this is safe.
You don’t know how to tie your shoe,
and that’s lacin’ the world
through your fingers
a project that smiles.
You’re just all bummed out
because the wonder of it all
is insufficient
to pick you up and carry you along
when you’re so discouraged you just want to die.
And I gettin’ through?

The fire of God is lightable on our time.
It’s not a deity wear,
some figure of God
asking for your allegiance.
It will burn off all this.
It will be bigger than time.
It won’t sit in an abode and judge you.
It will with the universe hold your hand.

How do you get there?
You need God.
Oh man I can’t get this through.
People will kill you if you don’t,
or the world will fall in.
Look out,
I’m tellin’ yah how to find God.
It’s need determines present,
and I don’t know how you make those conditions,
but when you’re a pedophile they come naturally.
That’s the price of your hate:
I get God and you don’t
anywhere near I’m showin’ Him to yah.

God hates sinners,
that’s a lie.
Oh my little child,
come let’s give you a bath.
You’ve gotten muddy again.
If you let Me I’ll get you outta there.
And then ensues the relationship.
You just don’t know God.
Or do you?
Come let us love together.
High and mighty,
I don’t see you in God.

Take pictures of Sri Aurobindo.
I’ve blossomed him,
brought out his yoga to the ground floor.
You’ll just think I’m lying,
the worshippers of Sri Aurobindo.
I’m golden atlas.
It’s not Sri Aurobindo I’m seein’.
You know the Supermind’s on the Earth.
I’m tailin’ it in.

Oh my God airplanes,
now look at this one.
It’s bigger than science.
It’s a cash card.
It’s the right way to do Earth.
It’s not forced.
It doesn’t have any artificial barriers between you
and what you’re supposed to do.
It’s not a morality flag.
It brings a different formula into the equation.
How big is this?
It heals time.

I’ve got roads on.
I push reality through the basin of time.
Shut up and go to sleep—
a reader quibs in.
Alright I’ll admit it.
It’s the supramental.
It’s very intense,
but it’s the supramental
has ahold of my paper.
I’m telling you what the decision is:
they are to occur the region.
Heavy regions,
girls we gotta absolve the conflict.
You put it in right there,
make the supramental the way we handle evil.
We don’t just military our paper.

Let me let you take a short look at that.
And then I realized something:
how does an honest criminal realize their mistake?
You banish them
forever.
Agency,
now to realize the Mother and Sri Aurobindo’s,
yeah, exactly.
Ensues the conversation.
Are you gonna be prepared?
I will be honest;
I didn’t know your name
Impossible.
Let’s get one thing straight, surrender to God,
it becomes possible right now.

God is the answer God is the key,
and the beauty is it’s not abstract.
You get here to this post God is holding your hand.
You can hear Him speak.
You can feel His power.
You can bask in His love.
You can see Him in everything that touches you I do.
Can we get anymore cornered than that?
God’s got you cornered,
and you can overcome any behavior.
You can do anything.
Okay those are the big city lights.

Wow, I’ve just described to you how the world was won.
Put that credit in my court,
and let’s celebrate the world together.
I mean not smoking and not being attached to smoking either.
So this rare new style
is upon the Earth today,
and as my teachers told me,
I put it there,
I and they.
Car commander,
be the example to everyone.
You have my permission.
Individuality under the Lord, you know?

I could do it before I found these lyrics,
lost lyrics,
as you won’t find them
until that thing happens
whereby one sees a poem
and gets other people to see it.
That mystery engagement with poetry,
I’m at a loss to understand.
Better thank a look,
knock out reader.
You know, have a nice day.

Make civilian source,
make civilian ready,
I am on my way
in the literary of my smile,
in the literacy of everybody’s smile.
Now here.
Is this Heaven? [vision with this line of being in a narrow exhibition space and colorful, extraordinary photographs on the walls all around me, more colorfully extraordinary ones appearing as I’m asking this question]
Your vanity
has registered a trip.
Oh excuse the mule,
he’s a real piece of work.
But I’m still comfort in,
and I’m standin’ by at your house,
if you ever wanna change the world
you live in.

How do you want me to be?
How to dream afterwards.
Tell this to the press corps:
I’m proud of yah;
you stopped killin’ people
on death row
(Oh BBC do you hear me?
That was pressure to kill
the Parkland shooter,
who you wanted killed.
Now on with the scroll),
and got the news ready
to see the criminal as a human being
you care about even though they did somethin’.
And there that’s my piece.

Not from institution to move along:
to auto-flash cooking
that old traditional paper just reports on.
We put it in user-generated content.
Hello gatekeeper, keep up.
Now there,
I got your number,
don’t I?

Supergame,
everybody listen to Hairy.
He’s got somethin’
make us all better people.
You out to lunch?
Glad you could join us,
as you left your sin and came over to help us.
Why do you all try to help?
We care,
which means
we grow up to care,
and everybody learns the three R’s
while they’re learnin’ this—
the whole import of school,
and can you tell me why not?

Newspapers here,
I gave you a way to make yourselves better.
Read this
to the public:
let’s teach our children to care,
and we solve all human-made problems
if we care about everybody.
How simple that is to see,
how horrible
we are blind to it,
and science-based gets us there?
Here’s where science fails:
it can’t see God,
and God alone cares.
We’re done.

The root of all papers,
and I’m figurin’ time.
What would you quib here,
I don’t see the import of your paper?
And if you said that
I don’t think you care
or even write home—
a poetry blush,
I mean practice for enlightenment.
Do we all come along?
Spiritual enlightenment,
it happens one person at a time.

I didn’t end this properly.
Let’s end this properly.
Okay where does your paper take us,
so long and thanks for all the fish?
At a human
let’s all look Christmas.
I mean study love
as the foundation of society.
Would I be talking to a brick wall?

The Christ Runner

On By Donny Lee DukeIn religion, seer poetryLeave a comment
Photo of sitting man by Savannah Class, of painting by Malcolm Lightbody, both on Unsplash

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.

A Rabble-Rouser

On By Donny Lee DukeIn childhood education, Inner Voice and Vision, PoetryLeave a comment

Nitish’s new video for his YouTube channel: https://youtu.be/yt_dgyVRqJw

A Rabble-Rouser
Well I’m Mr. Big.
A lot happens in two hours.
You ever hear of the Pathfinder Section?
Bad idea
YouTube channel,
a big mistake.
You’re free in the top part.
You’re not in the reality of the moment.

This video’s about you.
We run out in the street—
check it out!
Have you heard the sounds of New Tall Torio?
A rather embarrassing moment.
We aren’t being who we are.

Yah hear me kids?
That’s the storyline:
this guy over there
has got the worth of the moment.

I’m on the phone.
I gotta talk to Him,
not the new banjo the sky keeper.
Hey God!
I wanna be where I’m at okay!
the real me,
the one beyond ships.

Look at him.
He is the reality.
That’s who we are.
Take your head out of your storybook.
Get that mountain in your hands

I’m it.
Surround the place,
even a universe,
and I’m so big I’m free.
You have to look.
I am really free.

My God the paperwork
just to speak about him.
It’s not online.
It’s in your kitchen.
Think
just like this:
it’s not beyond us now.

I have to look for a channel:
the real thing.
Don’t stop believin’.

God on Me
He thinks out of your field of consciousness.
Field of consciousness,
an opportunity
to be involved in His masks
—shy Ram beyond be said—,
an opportunity to field some notes with Him
Nitisheh.

They’re family.
They are together
that man and this little boy in this mountain.
It’s where they belong.
You wouldn’t put them apart.

The Pupil and His Divine, a Harmony in Five Measures – 2

On By Donny Lee DukeIn Dreams, Poetry, soul healingLeave a comment

Sleeping Arrangements

[Although formatted to fit your screen, the poem was originally written in 2014. It’s in the form of a dialogue with multiple speakers: the poet, his divine, various people in the audience, including children, and even a hostile being. Paying attention to punctuation and listening to the poem read, the voices dramatized, play key roles in interpreting it.]


Mark my words,
a behavioral challenge
amplification wrong.
We poetry in our notebook
understand the behavior.
Get all listened out.
I do believe you’re excited about this.
There’s no place in our notebook
to gather wrong afield
so that we can see it better
and amplify its heal.
Are you with me Houston?
Ground Control to Major Tom,
put your seat belts on.

We have a reason.
Wrong could come break the relationship.
Finish thought:
you need control.
Wrong’s measuring basket:
to drink or drink more?
It’s a field show.
It’s a lessons study.
No ‘what daddy’
my son’s been imaged right.

Your measuring stick,
your wrong.
Do the exercises,
as long as you take the right one
above the window:
good history.
Did you see this?
That’s your heart song.

What happened?
Said to me.
I don’t want him going in there.
I act, we put there.
This is the first page:
yes you can sleep in your daddy’s room.
Sometimes we fail to see a better arrangement.
Sometimes we fail to see the solution at all.
Can get serious:
family court.

May we have your attention?
Please hold onto the exits.
A blue door
a thousand rupees,
that’s a spiritual way out.
Daddy I want to kiss you.
He’s green labeled that.
Whatta we do?
A different time,
a different thing.
Important that you don’t involve matter.
No swimming on the ground.
All need will read
God’s book.

What we’ve got here is a behavioral animal.
It has sharp teeth.
Stay in front.
If he pulls his gun out,
leave it blank.
I’m sorry I’m dividing.
We’ve got to arrange things
so that the muscle
get anybody complicated,
change house.

This is clear music.
You’ll sleep together in peace.
Watch those corner edges.
They rub a body mean.
I’m a happy song
you sing to your children
when she’s not in the house,
a line Molly.

Why did Molly come?
I’ve seen only skin much,okay?
Place the truth in your hands.
You know it won’t control them.
And it’s just like it was now,
trying to figure what was going on.
I’m just telling you something before you react:
I’m bringing you change.
That’s the technique.

The rude imperious surge,
that didn’t get you.
Do you want promise?
The Dallas runway.
You see some good
in this arrangement.
Don’t blow me away.
Keep the tickling hand free of charge
and the alphabet.
Study it please.

Doing things together
don’t let paper weigh you down.
What you want is a free, easy, spontaneous
gift hand.
You take this
you show it to them.
Must be nice to not have any fetters.
Just remember why you’re here.
It’s not to aggrandize the show.
A growth going on,
and the body carries its charge.
Sleeping arrangements made easy,
I go to sleep.

What Tamil movie?
We image sleep,
make it our breakfast song.
It’s the dream image that we care for.
That is molding the show.
You don’t know how sensitive the hand is
in the area of dream.
It is like another house,
another house owner.
It can fasten itself
to the waking movement,
and wrong behavior,
convinced of itself,
plays the hand.
But not when it comes
awake.
That’s the prime time TV.

Your hand has license there.
It meets them in dream.
They seem arranged for the movement,
probably asleep.
You have to go to clean.
You can’t.
A deaf movement.
Which one is that?
The life hand
has no will in it
to move.
Your head
and all its arrangement
is sleeping in the bed.

What you do?
There’s a program to put on.
It’s called make the body safe.
Call on divinity to help you,
some divine name.
Open to them,
and close the hand.
Hercules had no stronger task.
You see,
we can mess up;
we can come abuse
so early.

There is a physical culture.
The body has its own field.
Your body
wrapped around another body
ignites imagery in sleep.
I dreamed that I was in here by him,
next to him in bed.
Doubled doors are open.
Hot red hold me wrong.
Hot red you see,
hot red.

Hidden desire
can play.
These are occurrences in sleep
that hold us down in life.
They can arrange things,
pass this on to another child.
The waking world is full of such traps.
And we don’t even remember our dream,
even though our lightened load
is acting its ground.
This is a double pleasure.
Our child wakes up from his sleep
and waits for a buddy to fulfill it.
Physical culture I’m mad at you.
Though you are mad at me,
you like it
in the dream.
It’s a body arrangement.

What will put peace here is your spiritual test.
Who do you sleep with at night?
Your own dream?
Who it is you are open to
will single out your sleep,
open in the sense
that’s where you move.

You see my connection.
It’s a high note.
A practice song this is.
A night is drama to cross.
Put a pillow under it.
Only names
are personal enough
to put it together.
The name should rhyme with God.

There was something else.
The child in bed with you
isn’t even there.
They represent God’s feelings,
an image in the night
made in both areas:
I have walk in
and close the door.
We move to God’s nature
the sleeping child.

Have you fastened everything?
I can arrange it some.
You didn’t contact me,
subscriber.
A pulled image,
give me a dime to see.
We keep our images and our heads together
or they lose reality.
Bases cover this program,
the high note
we put our money on.

Yeah you hear:
hold your child a little.
Keeps safe with him.
We do not encourage sleeping with children.
No,
it’s just not a big deal.
You wouldn’t be able to
hand out body bags.

You’re not gonna get clearer than that for fifteen minutes,
the poetry of another song
even closer.
I sound your sleep.
Hear a whistle?
You’re an area dude.
You carry your first one folks.

Please dog go.
I gave you one rupee.
He’ll have a warm spot in his freezer.
He’ll want to put something there.
It feels warm to him,
and that’s all that’s interesting.
It’s nine or something no?
I don’t want your answer.
Tell me.
He can’t ride you like that
if you’re going to heal his movie.
He has grass ready.
You just need to cut on it.
We feel good.
That’s the problem.

His sleep knows this distance.
He’s practicing in dream.
You have to arrange it to watch his tower.
You hold the boy with your sleeping arm.
This is a measure of sleep.
No leave the stuff there.
All that we need is what you’re bringing to school on Monday,
okay?

Hey Donny,
his sleep you can’t ride,
but I can.
Go on, get some paperwork.
If you can just move for a minute,
that penis clouded,
you hit the note
that images safety.
You felt a strong glow,
Him.
The divine
had muscle.
He’s favored in sleep.
The urge is there,
but nobody eats.
You’re walking him out of this program:
exclamation point
in his area down there.

Though I’m sure it won’t be understood,
he gets dressed every day.
You must learn to read the music,
siren songs,
then move accordingly.
This is your fifth gear.
Man, speed up.
Do you know what ten miles serve?
Hey man I pass everything.
I’ll see you later.
Life being predictable,
same cost.

What is this?
The harmony of attention.
If I were you
I’d probably prefer to be
part of the program:
let me love you what I do,
but let’s get this story straight.
Touch those together.