These three photo-poems were posted on Mastodon January 21-28, 2024, and I was shadowbanned on the site after posting the first poem. Because I was left with no way to use hashtags or tags, no way to post comments on other people’s posts, and no way anyone could search for me on Mastodon, I left Mastodon. I had gone to Mastodon because I had been shadowbanned on Twitter/X, but on returning to Twitter/X in February, their shadowban had been lifted.
Posted January 21
All photos my own unless otherwise stated.photo by Douglas
Jacob Wrestling with the Angel by Leon Bonnat (public domain)
You’re on live. You’re still switchbacks. Let’s see if I can find ‘im, wife beater. High on our side, you’re the premium. You prove the words. Put you in the dustbin. Where you think you are buddy? This is Afghanistan?
I’m gonna be sayin’ I’m really glad you’re here in the not too distant future. Agreed, don’t let him in. See you tomorrow. A new episode, Aimless By Elvis. We’re 9:30. Fresh took from the Mother they did not realize.
Higher law would you challenge? Listen to this bullshit. I like that medical. I like that emergency. Alongside I don’t wanna bother people. I don’t want to fucking bother people. So we pretend we’re okay. I’m the manager of a showcase word that’s totally unacceptable in society. No one listens to it, except a few who know what it means, because they write the stuff, or it’s in their hands to read.
The city of dawn don’t like it, won’t even give it the time of day, who it’s for where its record keeps. They don’t listen to it. They don’t want it. It’s a waste of time to write it. I look at the long of it, and help is on these pages I can’t get out to the public, understandings that would bring peace, revelations enlightenment.
I can heal, and I can just listen to sins. I sit here flabbergasted the world does not want to heal, and no one wants to face reality, and I’m reality’s keeper, the healer of old wounds. I can’t count this. I can’t see its shores. There’’s no end to the proud ignorance we all share. There’s no listenin’ to our faults. There is only straight ahead bullshitting ourselves we are honest and sincere, or just say fuck it screw everybody I want my MTV, a cultural allusion to I want whatever pleasure I can get to get lost in it, and some say really wanna hurt people and let that world end.
Where are we today? We can’t see ourselves. We are not there, honest to God trying to better ourselves, to make the world clean, to have a functioning society. We hate each other, and sometimes with good reason, but who thinks hate heals? It destroys our world. It’s a poison in your inner life goading your neighbor to sin, like pick up a gun and shoot people with it.
And here we are on the airways putting thoughts in people’s minds an unconscious contest. We are not ready for everybody thinks in the same pool of blood. We can’t see that, and it’s not a belief you fit into. Painstakingly over mountains of years, this comes up in dream and vision.
You see the inner connection interpreting dream symbols and see them manifesting in the outer world. You have to see it for yourself. It comes up again and again. This in itself would revolutionize society, make us kind to each other in the wheelbarrow of our try, make us join together as one people that holds humanity at stake.
You can’t see it if you’re a scientist studying dreams. Their field won’t allow it— too many rules, but take a choir and put it together, who sing their dreams to one another over many long years, and you will definitely see it in the songs that you sing, and you will change the world. God no, you won’t even get it to listen to it, and I’m comin’ from one choir. Hear me speak?
I don’t know what I’m lookin’ at. Check this out, there’s this guy on the radio crammin’ religion down our throats, the nut, magical thinker pattern picker-outer where they’re not there, magical thinking fool. We can’t get around this introducing consciousness into the picture in a world of material thinkers who bargain for the day.
AI speaks and everybody listens, or enough that endanger our world. Can I crawl this to you, an innate speaking system that spiritualizes mankind in great healing waves your own inner voice speaks? How God you have to be to get there, how many trials.
It heals humanity, like a rocket test. It won’t make the news because it’s individually run, a healing system on Earth, where the Earth loads itself all shame and everything, where we don’t want to see. This is the great test of healing’s ways.
You see the rulebook? I can’t get this across. So the city laughs at me you stupid little thing. Got no time for your poetry. We are too busy with our not see. Can I spell this out? Auroville created for great change, to create among its selves the new human being, based on oneness and I do care, that brings humanity to the mountaintops, is closed to it when it comes, laughs the poet off the pier, just wants him out of town.
Alright listen up. I’m here, and I’m not the new human being, but I got recipes children that’ll put this in our hands. There, there now no. I’m a fire speaker on your shores, and I continue with it now you know reluctantly all systems go.
Art in the nature of its see looks at us through tall glasses. We think we’re the audience. We propaganda time. Art, when it comes from its source, makes us move mountains to see ourselves, and therein lies its price.
It’s not beauty you’re looking at, or ugly turned inside out. You’re lookin’ at yourself in mirrors of our kind, so we can sit with it awhile and put the light on our lives. Can you find art today?
A little bit of Heaven is the maker’s bill we’ve lost in how it's made, inspiration’s golden ring. Would you throw this away because it wrestles with sin and vice, wrestles with the Gods to bring Auroville here to bring down God here on Earth unpunished Prometheus, ordered by the Gods no? You tell me.
Another poem declined by the private Facebook group Auroville International but approved and posted by the Facebook group Auroville, INDIA.
We have that place where, yep, you need to turn on that character light. I would say he does not deserve the title respect call him. Thank you sadhak. Nat started a story. It was obscenity of being, the crazy what’s up nails trauma a bunch of us go through. Are we on your calendar?
You’re nice and pretty. Does that mean you’re good in the sense of good to all of us? We’ve got a world here in a tin can. It hurts everybody. You would not like a story that makes you mean. Is that transformative?
Watch movies that’s all you see, a blight of entertainment “televised from the gulfs of Night” [from Savitri, an epic poem by Sri Aurobindo] that tells stories to pit you against one another, to make your blood boil, to let the demons in.
There isn’t a place on the planet it’s not on your local TV. This is what we’ve gotta get out of, get back to our dream maker as the one we watch and write. Is that a perverted slam?
You would boil at the inner consciousness because it pits you against your morality papers: don’t say cuss words; don’t mention sex; don’t talk about getting your dick sucked when you were five by your mother. What have I just done?
I let the inner consciousness in in language that grabs you and moves you, that has the day on it, that gives you a porn whereabouts so many faces are into these days. It hits you where you’re at if you can’t tell right from wrong, if you’re lost in all this sleaze. We’re tryin’ to reach people not preach to them.
A dream comes out from someone who suffered this in the language that it felt like, and the elect can’t take it because they don’t know how to deal with it. They’re into quotes of Sri Aurobindo and pictures of deity. They look at spirituality as the cure and not addressin’ what’s wrong in the language that needs to.
Everybody just be nice. Make your concentration daily and let no wrong movements in. Be cheerful and happy. There’s no end to the advice in spiritual seeking. Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty of life. Let’s use those quotes to solve problems. The Mother and Sri Aurobindo are a wealth of that, applied in ways you haven’t imagined yet, because you’re religious and one-sided.
We need to heal, so many of us. You can’t imagine what it’s like where hell has opened in humanity. This is all over the globe, terrible stories that’ll make you cry if you had your empathy on.
We need to heal the world first, then spiritualize it, and spirituality will be healing, because that’s what it’s made for, if it’s the soul involved. You don’t know this. Soul healing’s to you a preacher wrote. It’s not test the limits of humanity in making healing the order of the day. This soul is wide and free. You don’t know that either.
You look at the Gods of Overmind, the lowest rung. They’re moral and straight. They have seen God in passing one time maybe. They are closest to us in the ways of deity. They make rules and regulations, put experiments on vice and get rid if it not heal it. Our whole world is taken by Them. It’s what we need to change and bring a new order upon the Earth, soul healing in the dynamics of Supermind.
You don’t know how wide God is, when it comes to the personal growth process of wholeness and healing. / That’s been my path all along, and it’s gotten acute where I show it to you, all Sri Aurobindo’d. What else can I do? I’m his disciple and a seer of his wisdom, and I’ve been told to talk to you.
I’ve spent 25 years learin’ my craft, a lifetime before that as a poet. You can’t fault me in preparation, all prepared for yah. Grab me by the balls will yah and throw me to policemen, or at least try to shut me up? God’s will be done.
One editorial board member, Dr. Alok Pandey, who is listed as a “Member, Research Advisory Council, Sri Aurobindo Society,” replied to my emails, three times, the first: “May Her Grace be with you,” her meaning the Mother, the second: “What is tormenting your soul so much dear child?” and the third: “You are quite right. You seem to be an angry and arrogant brash revolting angel. I don’t find your poetry tasteful or even poetry. It is a blurting out of things stirring in your subconscious, not mind nor higher, but inframental forces. That’s my view about your poetry. By the way I am not part of any organization nor have any access to publishing poetries so you could perhaps try some other place or person. Good luck. May the Grace be with you.” No one else on the board or in that organization has replied.
(written for the Facebook groups Friends of Auroville, and Auroville, INDIA but only approved and posted by the latter group, after sending a small poem that appears below this one. It must be noted Friends of Auroville removed me from their group and blocked me.)
I like rainbows spoken in the most clear and circular terms. Please, I’d rather have this is gonna turn out. I sit here with my hat in my hands. I’m a big roar on magic. Wanna see my human unity? It’s in your beautiful hands.
The uncompromising villager, the most accounted for where we find human unity, if you’re not on its side, if you wanna freeze it, if it’s not something you can work out because they won’t let it. They just like their tribe.
You can’t get away from Nature’s homegrown, and sometimes you have to swallow them whole. Definitely, that’s our footpath here. That’s our red beer here.
How do I get this off my property? We are not romantic letters. I’m not tryin’ to get yah to buy toothpaste. I don’t have an engineer here doing anything except talking to you. You’re my sweet opening to ride my pages. I don’t fight you. I just stand and sing. We need some heaters to loosen up human unity. I’m not trying to get you to buy land in Florida. I’m going with my function among you as a photographer and a poet to be part of this great experiment.
I’m his poet, the boy we had such a mind to open and facilitate. Did anybody publish? You won’t let a boy and me together in plain sight. You won’t even let him on this page. Human unity bills him to you, that little boy I took care of for so many years. Pay on your buddy my friend.
Where is human unity? I think we have to find our divinity first. It’s like the psychic change can’t be complete until the spiritual transformation. I don’t know what I’m sayin’. The yoga beefs here. We put it in Auroville’s hands. Now that’s a stalk monster. I’m blind to this— the tree hunters. I can’t get it off my chest— the need to see Auroville as human unity. It’s a crash course in nothin’— the battle weary Aurovillian says.
We can’t see it in our feet. We can’t see it on the road. It’s too big for us. It’s a journey inside. I’m sorry most people are not prepared for this. I’m not even close. I’ve been waylaid. An ignorant mother took my child out of spite. You don’t know the dynamics of raising foreign children.
Now I hate that mother and her whole crew, and I had achieved an amalgamated oneness in my mind, realization’s status in mental wears, not in that point of no return. The boy was my apprentice, my give my gifts to, already writing whole poems from the inner voice. He rode samadhi a time or two, approached the Silence, neared the sun. An overhead experience had opened his mind. He talked about the world like it was his brother.
Then he lost it all in one fell swoop. No contact allowed, and the boy’s been sat on for months and abused. I was opening up human unity for him by going inside. I know how to do children, without that stink. My inner consciousness opens theirs.
I can put human unity on a beanpole now that I’m mad at these people and wish them dead. I’m just sayin’. What a drop in flesh. I was showin’ him to you when it happened, when human unity fell from my hands. The irony in being on the other side of child abuse wanting to protect your child.
You have no idea the intricacies of karma on a mountain sink, when you see the world as representation and not as it. I flounder here. I’m mean this world plays for keeps. The vital is in an uproar I’m calming down now. My yoga works. I sit in spiritual vision and confess my soul.
When they’re hurting your child what do you do? When he’s crying and talking of suicide, and he’s only 12? They’ve made him think he’s crazy with all the gaslighting, and do no forget he’s been beat. I can’t find human unity here. Now I understand someone else’s child is dear to you too, and along comes some man who changes their dream, hits them hard with the facts of life.
You’re a bugger aren’t you? No I am now a healed man, feeling what you feel when you look at me. You want them punished. You want the child safe and sound. You want him healed, but the formula for that is not in your hands. I’m a call on that notion. I’ve a vehicle of self-healing’s swirl, and I know how to heal children. I know how to open their consciousness, and I am flabbergasted divine process has ruined me and flattened my child.
This is not fair. It’s not right. My ego blunders. I sit in your stool and say that. I point the finger at other people. I arrange them with my hate, because they’ve killed my child where they hurt him, and they hurt him in his love for God, his trust in the Mother, and they beat him for his love for me, and all the while say they know I was good to him. They’re his parents and they have the right to take and beat that mother told me that in a swaggered brag.
You lift your head up and see me mourning over a child, like I’ve never been healed. That child is still my number one day. Okay what did I do? I made that child’s feelings God. Attracted to him, I gave him God’s eyes. I gave the world a bath when he was little. I tempered him through Dog as a medium for our affection. We loved each other through a Rottweiler’s fur. Healing’s ways visited me like a mountain tribe close to the sun. I was guided. The feelings of God I opened up in me to care for this child.
So many tools I used, so many make it right. Then the Devil comes in and damns it all, and you dance to this tune. Do you know how much power the Hostile Powers have to turn off our lights? It makes you question the divine. It makes you try to blame God. What do I do what do I do?
I come back to myself of course. I peel off this hate from blocking the psychic’s view. I stand and sing. How far you have to go inside yourself to find human unity. I’m afraid most can’t do that. We have to have developed souls, and we have had to have found oneness inside ourselves. How many go that far?
We’re in the stage of adopting belief. Can we understand a multi-generational project? We want the consciousness open, so our children can grow up wise, a human unity bundle, but you have to get it right with children, so they can make the journey if you can’t, the journey inside our yoga talks about.
I’m a vehicle on that worth, and I’m hamstrung right now for loss of my boy. I am just this landed fish speaking into your microphone. Now I’m supposed to tell yah human unity is a spiritual aim, soul’s quarters.
I believe, I believe, I believe [line heard sung, from It's Too Late To Turn Back Now] don’t bring it through your front door. It comes when you’ve seen the One with its own eyes, a vision in consciousness. You can’t rule it into play. It’s not a textbook model. Can you find spiritual process? Isolate that nigger. This is perfect sin.
The suffering is so explosive. I don’t know how to manage it. I’ve managed art with it, so radiation in purpose, and I die by the public barrier. No one wants to hear this. It’s just spilled upon my paperwork. People would slap me for it instead of help. I just sit here and cry so often. You know I’ve heard from that boy.
The insanity with which his mother has put him, so she can keep him from the slightest contact with a man who raised him, would make you want to put her away if you knew the extent of it. He will tell no one but me, and those around her support her. It’s a living nightmare, and this is what happens when you do right with a child and turn on their lights.
I’m an Auroville side keeper. I’m conducting the experiment in my home. I think you’re too rigid for that in your mainstream rooms. Surely the consciousness will change one day, but you don’t know how. I bring in that formula, and you won’t even look at it. Now it’s been captured by the Hostile Powers, and no community supports me to engage these misguided parents. What do I do?
Stay close to him in inner consciousness and hold him there, wait for him to give me some outer contact, with no satisfaction that will come. You sit there and enjoy this, the child removed from my lair, kept from my clutches. I pity you. You are not the experiment.
I throw you a human unity ball, and I would get into the quick of things, if you let me, in your own rooms, by doing art and making it public so you can see. What are the issues that divide us? The handle of children, I can take you to where we are feet with them, the places that society all sees but gives it permission to be, and I can take you to their God room, and what beauty can come out of a child when their inner doors are open to the God-felt expression of their soul.
A social trigger we do not fathom but persecute, when it’s as deep as this into our children’s honey. When it’s social honey, can you come together on this and extend us your hand? I can give you his song inner hearing wrote. Listen to the boy. You know he’s months away from being taken from his home at the lake and made to feel so alone.
The future folks he’s got in his hands, and he’s blisterin’ himself now with his vision of the future that has failed him now that it’s come to pass. So much spiritual technology he wrote to save himself from a future situation transpiring now. I give you this miracle if you would but look at it. He cannot. He’s not allowed.
The damage is done, and the light’s been put out, and he won’t even save himself but has laid down and died, giving himself up to total dominion, and he’ll lie about it if you ask him, scared of his parents’ wrath.
That’s the hope today, the boy tells you what’s real if you ask him. It’s a hope place to start. It’s a country road. It’s the place we land our feet and give this boy his chance.
The menu, it’s got Gods all over it, and it tells what happened when the boy told his father he wanted to go home, live with the velacara in a permanent song, but that was Sri Aurobindo’s house. The future is in his voice. It’s the future in your hands, if you’ve never seen it before. He gives a prevision of the future his soul wrote.
You’ve not seen nothin’ like it. It’s captured on the journey home to the lake. In one fell swoop, that boy tells you how the cow ate the cabbage, and you’ll just have to sit up and take notice the boy heard this line by line spoken into his inner ear complete and unabridged. We used my voice recorder. Other than that no help given. Now tell me this boy should be shot.
This is a cooperative journey. We can’t leave Nithish there. He’s a prototype of a brand new kid, and boy does he have baggage. What was meant to be: we are consciousness bundles, and by our poetry you see that we can bring you vehicles in consciousness headed for our high change. Eat that in the Menu of the Gods. Can we find Auroville? I’m drivin’ you home.
From Nithish’s YouTube channel
On August 19th, I sent the following small poem to both Facebook group’s admins with a link to the poem here on my blog, asking again that they post the poem, and in my stats I saw that two people in India came here from Facebook, and it’s reasonable to assume that was admin from one or both of those groups. Within a couple of days, Auroville, INDIA posted not only it but also two more posts I had pending, all at once. One can only say thank you when that happens.
Do somethin’ more than just an operator’s opinion. It puts human unity in your lap, and I’m the border they cross. Don’t kill it again. It’s costly. You’re destroyin’ human unity. Can you get a handle on it? Censorship is for what’s wrong and makes us bleed. Is it really for what makes us right? Answer the question, and that’s the ordinary. Let’s cup in our hands the extraordinary. I give you a ride there in this poem.
Watched this film, and then the second poem came, the long one, an hour after, and it came all night.
The Banality of Evil, We’re Watchin’ a Different Movie
This is grand cinema. You’re left wonderin’ over its price. Are you opened to that puppy? Just to the pain it caused. Just to its wherewith with evil. We need more from cinema, powerfully done. I’m the long ride. I’ll get you there on sudden bleeds: you will identify with the snake, or your heart pounding no. I heal awhile. Listen to me.
To Heal Holocaust
Heal God. Boy God has done some bad shit, if we count Him responsible for everything, if we say He’s the doer here. How do we get round this table? And now the poem starts. Let’s write it.
You must know into the most horrible places. I’ve climbed down there and got burned. I can identify with the snake. I’ve opened Holocaust doors by beer-bottlin’ a boy. He cried and then got tough. I hit him again and again with that beer yard, two or three boys.
It didn’t make me throw up. I took pleasure from their pain. The control I had, I was in their control room and I knew it. Their weakness turned me on, their vulnerability. I liked it.
This is a Holocaust memorial. It’s not me writin’ on myself. I showin’ where it came from, that and a knife blade. These smites transform into big smites, transform into Holocaust. I'm helpin' you some. I’m going ludicrous. I’m just stupid sayin’ this.
Let’s change poems. What do you feel when you hurt people, your power over them? No you feel your delight that it’s not you. We’re explorin’ some. It’s a probe. Not every formula has got this written on it, but somethin’ happened to you, when you could not fight back, too little to do anything about it. It scarred you. Now you’re investigatin’ that reality, and it’s your hands cause pain, your thrust of life.
This is not healin’ you’re doin’. You just keep doin’ it, a wack in reality that repeats itself, with your hands. What do you do to stop? I can’t get yah there. It’s too wide open. Jeffery Dahmer pulled the plug. Then he started killin’ again. You didn’t know he suffered. You didn’t know he didn’t turn that down, his longness in the inner cycle. Where do we go for change? Wrapped up in an investigation of yourself, you open the inner doors.
Really watch yourself in dream. The plug will come up. You’ll eventually pull it the right way. You just keep erasin’ mood, that spell that comes over yah when you’re around water, when you’re at that place you can do it. This is your fault line, and it’s inner sprung.
You’ve got to get ahold of your behavior, on the inside where it starts. This ain’t hard/this is not easy. [two above phrases heard spoken simultaneously] You’ll see how it’s done in your visual immune system. Message, it will message you. It gives a little chance for you to aim behavior rightly.
You’ve got to get ahold of the bull. You’ve got to grab it by the horns. I took years here, in Holocaust denial. It’s when you begin to see it it’s the hardest. You can’t close the curtains, even when you do it. You can touch it and move it around. You’re puttin’ light down there. This is not about feeling guilty. This is about recognizing pain.
What is true remorse? You feel pain buddy, making other people suffer, but you’re still not in the geography bowl. Look on these two: the ordination of love, and the realizing of oneness. How deep you have to go to get there, how much time pass.
This is integral healing. I know someone that can’t even rise a fantasy. The light got down there. You feel the vulnerability of the other, and you just want to hold them in your arms safe. You can believe you did that. You can see yourself doin’ it, not playin’ it in your mind, I mean it had sergeant over you before, but you’re at peace with it, and you put it out of your room.
We have no laws for this. We’re not ready to find it. There are too many of us to make it safe. It’s good for the environment. I wasn’t so bad I chained people. I was a love roll. I know you don’t understand this. The assurities of Adolf Hitler, that was absurd, and afterwards so complex. It was positively brilliant. Wow, you said brilliant. We would eat lunch there. I’m not bragging it. I’m not starring it. Nobody has a secret weapon to find change in these dark waters.
I’m putting a healing light to it, using my own brand. You don’t know the fashion of evil. You think it comes from us. Its dark nature rises from the Abyss. There are creatures there on a beanpole, with tremendous might, that invade our dreams and conscious minds, and tell our hearts to do things. They are compulsion’s will, and they are smarter than us. Oh my God they’re there, right in our room, pushing us to fall.
What do you do with that? Where do you put it? They don’t give up, and we have to put up with them, on our world endeavor. That’s not fair. It’s not even funny. It’s a stark reality we have to live with. So when you’re coming out of darkness, you’re confronting these, the Snake in your room.
Oh my God they are blind, the ones who hate you for the evil you have done. They’re just self-righteous idiots, and they will see when this is done, when their life’s over, the complexities of fate, the manage devils in your room, the horrible nature of reality in its bottom lair.
We have to contend with this to overcome fate. We cannot escape it. I’ve mentioned the ballgame, what we’re really here for, to change our nature into God dwellers, to spiritualize, divinize, Nature. I’ve pulled the rank card, and you are blind to this. It’s too big. It’s the science of changing your nature, and your own process will see that glory immune system, the one I talk in visions and dreams, the one I talk now. It holds your hand here, and now we are complete: God heals.
I want to be Rivendell to meet, not some pedophile sandbag. A lot of people meet me everyday. I’m countin’ the reaction when you’re encountered with pedophiles. I’m goin’ to school where I meet yah, and would you believe you could learn about the sky here? They stole it, people who let social stigma get in the way of their judgment. Did we just mention everybody? For awhile there, Jesus was not one of ‘em. Now he’d be right there judgin’ yah with everybody else, because he’s a Christian.
Do we have anything fat to look at? Can we get into a different defense cave? Social stigmas don’t have sting anymore. It’s not visible too seen. You think you know everything. What does this cost us? Would you believe the stars? You can’t go there. You can’t even run. It’s got yah by the balls. You’re not helpin’ anyone sexual sinners included.
Did we just mention social stigma? The heart of the disease. It camps us in the hatred of the sinner. It’s here we have social margins, places we cannot cross, the ultimate taboos of society, bigger than even eating your neighbor. Can you feel the hate down there? What riles you up more against the sinner? Where do you go with that? In the news.
I’d like to lesson faith, put Christ there on the table and examine him. Let’s start with Buddha. Do you see love? Hell even Krishna would say no in a pedophile open container. Muhammad would just deny that it ever be. I’m countin’ populations of this faith or another, that give us Godly love. The population says no, if we’re lookin’ in sexual drawers. Why is that? Godly love’s not among them.
Progress, we haven’t seen this yet to stop hate here. Have I come to a common denominator what eats the heart of man? And we can come further. We can see this thing. We can liken it to our lives. We can know it hurts us, to always have the scarlet letter we give people to wear. I’m talkin’ about every day, every hour, every minute, on this Earth, and multiply that times humanity.
Silent the Staffers are about this, the administrators of humanity, the ones who give us the news, the ones who sell religion, and the poet, and the playwright, and anybody who makes noise. A lot of people mention queers and transgenders and other fancy stuff, but they sure aren’t showin’ us the leaven of the rule to hate sexual sinners, very different from accept me I’m gay.
Did Jesus come to heal that? A powerful religious figure. Have we come that far, where we can recognize the sinner in the ones who are to us Gods? And the ones we recognize as Gods, they wear perfection you see, so they have authority, so they don’t blind us with true vision. We can’t take that light. Mother Mary was a saint, and Jesus never sinned. Can we get outta here? Out of wedlock has got us by the balls.
It damages us, makes us see right in lying about the Light. Muhammad never loved women and failed God there. Can we see this for the truth? I think someone would kill me if I said it, and word got around. Our religious bringers, even if they don’t know it, are tryin’ to heal humanity where their own lives are concerned.
Of religious hate, it can’t see this. Of religious hate, this is all over the place, and here it’s most prevalent and mean, most pronounced, and it’s there in your jury room, and it’s there in your heartbeats. What do we need to heal? Society, if we ever hope to help the Earth. Environmental change to a better Earth for all begins there. It’s our starward. It’s our hope. It’s where we meet each other.
Who do you revile the most? That’s the key ingredient of our change. It’s where we find each other on common ground. It’s where we pick apart humanity and find its managing flaws. It’s where we touch base with one another, and it stinks to high heaven. It’s beyond the pale. It’s what moves us to rape, murder, and war, because it’s our common denominator, LCD hate, the hatred we all share. Move that, touch that, and we all quiver.
Are you there yet? I’m roundin’ you out some. I’ve got a field to show. Hear my heartache? I am everywhere. I’m in your shoes now. Feel free to put your comments in the minus bar, is that what you say Eddie? Is that where you’re at? It’s where we draw morality today.
Harm's End 