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/
Tag: God
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.
What the Mother Said
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
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.