A lot of things up there I don’t like to talk about. It’s a mess up there, and it chases your life. I’m an idiot for believing it. There’s no hope on this runway. I can’t even see my dogs. I lost all the people who matter to me. They’ve taken me out of India for a visa violation. Can you imagine Dylan?
I had several minutes to pack. Nithish came and we talked. Everybody was crying. No appeal allowed. They were stone-hearted men. The immediacy of the situation derailed me. I was not prepared to go. No one would listen to my pleas just a few days please. It was heartbroken. The dogs were so confused. Bruno knew. The pain in that dog’s eyes, can it kill you?
Who knows the price you have to pay for poetry? I made the Auroville Foundation mad, and they promptly got rid of me and didn’t even show their face. Their lackeys did it. I’m going to shoot them tomorrow, not with guns with their guilt. Douglas and I are on a plane to nowhere. We’ve been kicked out of our home. I am over skies now. I don’t know where I am. I don’t care to. I will never see my dogs again.
A few minutes to pack after a life of 20 years. No international rights, what do you do with that when your life-blood is on the table, all your hopes and dreams? Even Nithish’s parents cried, and we all forgave each other. So many crying people came to see up off, and it didn’t move a cop.
This is land’s lamb, a spoken inner voice, and it will even tell on itself. It won’t leave you alone. To trust it is to invite paradise, but hell is its price. Pain and suffering slam me now, and I don’t know what to do with that. More poetry please. Look I gotta get out of this ride. Most things have to be deleted anyway. I’m sorry. Look it’s over.
What happened? The government has cancer. It only has a gun. It breaks people’s hearts, is only concerned with its name, can’t see past its own nose, is a bear eating people. No one can call it on it. You get in trouble. They won’t let you talk. When you give them a divinely inspired poem they get mad, shoot the messenger, tear apart his family.
What’s the wasted gun, where I meet the government, or where it meets me? Hand that over a hide and seek. Show dinner now how much bullshit serves me on myself, or am I worth the life of this poet?
Plenty of people have no pride. It’s part of the hardship of life. Do we let then in? Do we let the haphazard come in? They’ll throw it open like they’re dying without it. They are not sincere. They’re trying to get over on you whatever they can. They can’t look you in the eye and say they’re sorry. They’re all over the place, a dim a dozen.
I need to know what that man’s like. Test him some. Come to his house and sit at his table. Is there anybody but himself in his banyan tree who are not satellite I’s of his solar I? Can he have compassion? Will he sacrifice for those around him? Is he a hope in humanity’s heart? Does he genuinely feel the presence of others? What does it take to make him smile? Can you count lighthouse in him?
I’m askin’ the right questions say you find an illegal immigrant. These are the criteria we live by, and he needs to show that. Can I get a horseman here please? We’re blowin’ humanity out of the water throwin’ somebody out of the country such as these. An immigrant’s status give the immigrant’s worth?
Look at yesterday. They pull a poet out of his home. Because I didn’t read his poetry. I listened to the bossman. We celebrate this. You’re at 1 o’clock. Put more tickets through. It’s all good. Put the police upon the table, and this defends a society of Indian spirituality?
Our family there were told that the Secretary of the Auroville Foundation, Jayanti Ravi, filed a police complaint against me for the past three poems on this blog, which are about Auroville. Four men came to our house, all in civilian clothes, and only one would show his ID, the one from immigration, whom it’s reasonable to assume that they brought just in case there was a visa violation, and there was. Later, since I was holding out in my house, the regular police came.
Recently Auroville News and Notes reported that the Auroville Foundation has brought 15 members of the special police who are crushing dissidence in Kashmir to do that in Auroville. I suspect at least two of the men who wouldn’t show ID were them.
The Prime Minister, Shri Narendra Modi at the great Banyan Tree in Auroville on February 25, 2018. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and the Prime Minister’s Office (GODL-India)
From the paths of the Alone, if it’s any consolation, I alone this to you, the next lesson cheerio. The heart of Auroville is the banyan tree establish the Earth oneness drive everything. The Infinite of days, things are stepped back, exploded on the scene: I hate this bible; I have a schoolbook to cram down your throat, the rules and regulations; I just wanna have fun. The voices chorus. Just leave my damn trees alone and my vegetables— I’m sustainable Auroville. I’ve got some rocket science get yah, a whole lot of Sri Aurobindo— the Mother’s disciples’ Auroville.
It’s a land grab right in the heart of the city, and then the government comes in and makes you disciples of her all the way to India that’s the tower we find. It makes you want to pull up stakes, the whole registry. A failed experiment has come apart on itself. You can’t get there from here. You can’t even try. You just sit and wait for another dawn.
Where do we go wrong? The goodwill to continue. It doesn’t hurt anybody. It doesn’t seek them shame. It’s taller than a government and is not about right of way. It has no agenda to sell you at the expense of itself. It’s charitable to everybody, even the weak. It has no bad man. Goodwill lifts him out of that. It’s good to everybody.
The fundamentals of goodwill started this place, and all this was hijacked early on and has led to today, a fractured Auroville. Policy glows in goodwill, is meant for the right change, and it glows on our vegetables. People’s particulars glow in goodwill to come right themselves. This is not known among you? If you see the fruit you see the tree. Goodwill governs all, and that’s where we land Auroville to come back to itself. Are you going to fight this? Are you going to make it mean?
The heart collapsed, the heart of Auroville. It puts lunch in children’s boxes and go all over India. Get to every place on earth, the Auroville plane. This trap is completely in our noosphere, such is the spirit of this endeavor, the daunting human-wide of Auroville.
You’ve blocked me with anger and ill will from the anger and ill will in the very pocketbook of Auroville, the poet of your gifted change, the poet sent here to warn you. Just come and govern everything with ill will, is this just your blindness or your willful stance? Time of death, is that the lesson of Auroville?
This is the form of the divine. I report that they are only satellites. It's all fences regarding the sun. We can’t get at that meat in the matter. It’s too broad-minded you, and you will not meet us there. I cough this up now a poem rose in certain straits, but I’m not in a tin can. The availability of truth is relative to the participant, but I tell you sincerity guides my house. It’s what I lean on. I can get closer to the truth, but will you meet me there? Will you even try?
Oh my goodness Auroville, that’s the study sheet, that’s what we make our daily rounds: ever widening to the truth, ever widening to contain it all, to stand at last on higher ground, to get there, the reason Auroville was made. We localize human divinity here, and that is ever the strength now.
I attempted to send this poem via email to recipients in Auroville, but my email ID was blocked. I’d sent the previous poem on this blog, “The New Business”, to all the addresses that blocked this one. This poem and the previous one made the secretary of Auroville, Jayanti Ravi, mad, and she got me kicked out of India over it, personally.
80’s little horror war, what threw away? The administration of Auroville. It was surrendered to the government without even a care, and we lost our autonomy that way, at the toss of a dice, and the government rolled in.
Are you countin’ India to allow human unity to take over? What was the village thinkin’ in removin’ The Sri Aurobindo Society from the scene? Can we grasp Sri Aurobindo? The Society doesn’t, and it will block you to this day if you disagree with them. What was the Mother thinkin’ givin’ the township to this obviously irreverent crowd to love and compassion on earth and human unity.
Stupid me, stupid you, we excuse her for it, but this is the mistake that baked the day and ruined Auroville. Can anybody look at this? If ever a mistake was made here was one, and now we’re supposed to take her every word as gospel, as if she made no mistakes?
Where has she been all these years watchin’ it fall apart? Is she comin’? Yoga relies on inner seeing, if it’s got the content of its worth. I’m not talking about intuition, your intuition says this, your intuition says that, in a gut feeling, no matter how you describe it as the opening of the day.
Inner seeing’s a gut worth’s no. It’s concrete formulas laid out in time, spoken word, revealing vision, or the dream maker putting together the house for you so you can see it. That tells you where it’s at. When I entered the yoga I picked up the Mother right away in dream and vision, her signal loud and clear. That was in Auroville the first time.
She was not proclaimin’ to me her gospel, her avatarhood. She was puttin’ sadhana together for me it’s a sunny day. What made it so difficult, I just knew hell had entered my birth and would not let me go. What difference she made when she came on board. You couldn’t tell it from the outside for so long I’m ashamed to say. Look at that to Auroville. Can you gauge her time?
I’ll tell yah the Indian government can’t. Nor can it see spiritual vision or uses it to make decisions, spiritual vision as in seership, not a quote you pull out to prove your point. We are left with the Indian government in charge of Auroville, refueling the Mother’s words with their agenda, purposefully pulling her out of the picture by putting her in it the mouthpiece they wore.
You can see it happening. You just think the Mother’s responsible for it, but she did not ordain this, nor the government taking over when the Auroville Act was signed. How do I know this? I’m an inner seer, and we always live on the outcasts of time. Way out there, we question everything is this the divine?
I sit on your bench, okay? I’m a hologram holocaust survivor, and I can say my own name. I love the Mother because she saved my life and protected me all these years. I know the strength of her word, her teachings. They have held my hand for so long, but what she taught me you can’t find in a book, not even hers. Deities make mistakes, and avatars ruin, and in order to change ourselves we must see that to understand what we’re up against.
The whole paradox of creation comes down upon our head when the actual change comes about, to keep it from coming about, and you can hightail it and run back to Houston, or you can bear the impossible. A stallion of waves stampede, and you’re just everybody, and no wave can block your tide. My deep thought Auroville, can yah folla me here?
To murder someone else on the arms of a little boy, in the status of a little boy, you hit the nail on the head with what keeps us from being human to one another, what keeps our humanity at bay in the everyday meaning of relationship.
Nithish has a parent that’s me we didn’t put together by law or found by blood. Time did it, growin’ him up in my care, parenting him. No amount of denial can change that in this boy’s heart or in my shattered life. No amount of lies can make it undone. We are parent and child and more.
We are each other’s significant other in that our lives are undone in the worry over the other. Where do you see that? In his inability to concentrate solely on school, in his brooding silence, in his anger that’s at a flashpoint every time, in his antsyness and nervousness not knowing what to do, in his inability to sleep at night. These are just vehicles. Those around him know something’s up, have known for months now, and all the punishment you can give him can’t stop it, all the control.
You got a situation where you’ve gotten rid of one of the most important people in your son’s life, / a very important person to your life, even important to the school his goes to, and that was done in what amounts to murder in the first degree, where you simply killed him as cruelly as you did that: without any thought of goodness or proper action, cut me out of your boy’s life like he was holding the gun, and you even made him shoot me, and he suffers for that to no end.
You can’t say why you done it, just that your parental rights give you that right, and I have none, what it boils down to, whatever the dyslexia of the situation, the Sri Aurobindo, and you split your family doing that, made culpable his school.
Who am I again? A real live person in your life no amount of getting rid of will get rid of, and even if you actually did kill me, or send me off in space, I would be around your neck in plain view of that boy for the rest of your relationship with him, what you did to me and why so you can have him for yourself.
Can we rule of the heart of the matter? And the heart is a tough customer, and you feel it too. It’s what we live by, overrides every rule, shows itself as the leader of the life in every relationship. It can’t be denied, and even if you ignore it, it will make sure you can’t, and you can’t can you Sandiya? That’s why you control him so much. You know he wants to be with me.
He’ll be 13 in less than a week. I’ve been to every birthday that boy’s had, been a principle player. You know what he wants for his birthday. He wants his daddy. He needs his daddy. You are his mother, and that’s what mothers do, meet their child’s needs. Was he born from your womb and now you own and possess him, or are you really his mother? Well are you?
Anyway, I want to see him on his birthday. Why can’t that be arranged? That’s tonight’s show.
That kid sees daddy God’s will. That kid never sees daddy again. His parents are evil saying that. Evil and horny, they market this child for themselves. This is bad business. They stomp on him every day. They can’t help themselves. It’s gleeful. They like making this boy suffer. The power surrounds them. They feel like Gods in his presence. They get off on his pain. They know he loves daddy, and they punish him for it, every single day.
They are beside themselves with hate— their child wants to be with daddy, and they know that. The terror they put through him to force him to keep his mouth shut, or to force him to lie, is what you do to your child when you’re monsters. He is so scared of them he has thoughts they will kill him, smother him in his sleep I’ve already told you in another poem. Can you imagine doing that to your child, being the terror of his life?
They revel in this, will not let him up, and the power they have over God, it’s where they find themselves stupid. God does not honor them or what they do. How God allows evil to take us for a ride, is everywhere apparent. You saw how long the Nazis rule, how long Islamic State cut people to pieces. Then God comes in, and evil forces are destroyed, like the Earth itself does it. You see it happen every day. Evil gets reckoned with.
Evil gets changed, can we show you the gist of this story? Nithish is not here to suffer so his parents can be punished for it. They will know what they did, and their love for their child will show them, what has been there a measure on the situation, keeping the beatings to a minimum, keeping the abuse from killing him. You know he thought of suicide. What this boy has done is shown what child abuse is when it’s not recognized as abuse, here in India where you can beat children and totally and absolutely control their lives, bend them to your will, even expect they worship you, and even adulthood does not find freedom.
Nithish has gone through this so you can see this. They’re not expecting art. They weren’t expecting mine. His parents aroused a poet to defend his boy, to help his boy, to save his boy, the likes of which you’ve never seen, have you? A power of poetry that gives God reign, that let’s Him do His business, you hear it now.
But we find another poet here, tender in years, his parents have tried to murder because they associate it with me. I opened up poet in him, and you’ve heard him sing. He has the future in his hands, a poet of prophecy, and he prophesied this abuse and his waylay in it. Read his poetry this can’t be denied.
Can we come to terms with Nithish? His future poetry writes a verse that will finally free children from being someone’s property, from having the status of slaves, not to buy and sell and trade, but to make them obey with no say in the matter, and to make them do their parents’ will regardless of the cost to the child, to make it as though the child was born for them, for the parents’ pleasure, for the parents’ rule, to obliterate the fact that a soul came down on this adventure Earth to work out its purposes in time. This slavery we need to see, and these slaves we need to free.
To abruptly stop his childhood in the slam shut of school, when he has a learning disability they do not address, they know but will not admit, will scar him for the rest of his life. It’s their thang with him, and they love it there. You’re meant to be crisscrossed. You’ve stolen the boy’s life, but you cannot see you’re wrong for the trees, the stupid people who back you up, the negligent police, the blatantly ignorant Child Welfare Committee, and a school that is so backward in education they let parents abuse their child and don’t even know what a learning disability is. They are ridiculously called New Modern Vidhya Mandir Higher Secondary School, and they’re not going to stop me from showing them to the public when all this is over. They need held accountable for this. I will see to that.
Interstellar from national backgrounds, I will show where Earth is wrong in school, school responsible for the shape we’re in, and school we need to change. Academics take a backseat to being human you colonial legacies fillin’ the Industrial Revolution’s need. Antiquated, outdated, and on steroids, it’s destroying our world. Beavis and Butt-Head are to help us through kids to their appointment in time, to their children now adults later, to the sting of childhood making us examine ourselves in roles as parents and teachers crammin’ adulthood down their throat, and they are yet but children. You very ignorant and narrow-minded, corncob stuck up your ass, uptight bunch of people, did you hear that?
Good, I’m weighin’ on yah now. Just wait till that boy regains his pen you stop shoving school down his throat and let his poet speak, his purpose on this God’s green earth you won’t allow cause you’re dim in the head and give his parents absolute rights. Just wait till he gets that pen again. Just wait. Nithish will give us the right ideas to parent children, and that is his future fate. That poet is among us now silenced, gagged. You think so? Let’s wait and see.
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.
Okay you ready? We got that thang fixed. Okay yeah. Everything watch manners— there’s boats in the car. The problem is with the Silver. Take somethin’. Take this over the top of your head. Can you growl with me at cars? A field of stars show all this morality. I’m in business for good, and that’s how I pull your pants down, get away with it. I’m showin’ the Mother her feelins when she was a little girl, and my eye is ever on what was made illegal in India: offend people in their religion, and they put you in jail.
Can a reformer speak? We wanna change things for the better, and we have to challenge religion to do it. Religious sentiments need to change so we can get past this stumbling block. Alright I’m right there, holdin’ my penis and showin’ flowers. Where did you go? You think I’d said the n-word. Oh, wrong culture, but you can hear America from here, Indian. We put everybody on trial. I bet you don’t wear your genitals properly. My God they’re beastly things, all wrapped up. No one wants to hear them. I’m gifted speech, a seer of divine wisdom that has the sun in his sights.
Oh Supermind, we can’t see a difference from Overmind where our morality’s concerned. Supermind will stay right there by society in where it needs to change to bring harmony in the situation. It isn’t fight with rules. It breaks them, and that’s how we change our lives to get so much bigger than any rule can make us. Alright overmental keepers, listen up. I harmonize.
Well that shirt go to the other side. Look at my fuckin’ numbers you mean. There’s just a second before I change in poetry, and I bring so much literal verse into a symbolized meaning. You hear me cars? Don’t run off. I’m just tryin’ to explain things you don’t wanna talk about. You should’ve seen ‘er. She fought that tongue, but it didn’t bite ‘er. In India— I figured it was you. I hold off more than I can chew. So many open-minded Indians I’m not mentionin’ in this book, but I know you’re there. I’m a seer of divine origin, and I’ve got some thumbnails to put out to the public.
Just wait a minute. How often do you think? It’s been a year I’ve threatened you with green leaves. This is the baseline, where we genital one another, talkin’ about the social consciousness in our arisin’ morality.
Gonna get you there. Does it stink? It’s not a baseline of spirituality, but it’s standard there. We deal with these things as we follow some yoga or put on our sadhana. They can’t be ignored. The genitals are a loud gun. No one deals with them properly. We stuff them away even evil to look at, like they snake. We have put them in marriage vows so they can express themselves without poundin’ the social fabric. That was a temporary measure made a long time ago by the Gods to control us.
It’s tearin’ apart the social fabric. We have genitals when we’re not married. They reach out and bite us if we deny them expression and we are not mature enough for brahmachari, celibate in our wears, especially kids. Do you know the confusion they feel to have these little toys with handles on them, and they get punished with they do, or made to feel so ashamed? They grow up a sexual question mark that puts pleasure in the wrong place: it’s not right. Or they just go balls to the wall as an adult doin’ what was denied.
Let’s put the genitals in the right place: they’re not ugly or mean, but they need to be handled properly. Just say no doesn’t work if you haven’t worked out your sexuality, experimented with its measure, looked at its price. How do we do this and heal from sexual disorder? Would a homosexual say that? I don’t think we’re ready for soul process. It comes on mastery in the ways. It’s not a well of permissiveness, but sometimes that’s the order when all things are arranged.
Can I call upon the difference between soul process and divine process to go under morality and show you this? You’re just put in situations where you work out until you mastery. No, the soul hurts no one, but it’s open to the play, urging you, guiding you, leading you to right relationships between people, and here in the well of eternity that takes lifetimes. We want the soul pressure up front, the psychic being to take its seat as the leader of the life, and all the worlds dig this process where we have evolution at stake, but can I tell yah everybody’ll be brahmachari when the world turns to spirituality as its profit motivation? When you hit maturity for that, like in your early thirties. Some will be called earlier.
We’re headed somewhere. We have a spiritual transformation ahead, the whole damn world. It’s headed towards Supermind, right there in its soul change. The genitals have to be put in place. We have to wear them right, and that’s not always covered up. Can you see this? We have to remove harm from them. That’s not done easily. It’s not done at all by making them taboo. Sri Aurobindo and the Mother put their pencils down here and left us all hangin’.
Oh the glories of the Victorian age they were in. It stuffed sex, and neither one of them liked it. Were they prudes? The perverse habit is so natural to mankind. What do we do with that? Do we call our teachers liars? They’re right there with us now. You can hear them in my words. I’m sorry I said that. I know how that makes you feel. Who am I? I’m a seer of Sri Aurobindo. I’m a poet of the Mother. This bake— I don’t have the clout, and I’m a foreign man.
You don’t like foreigners. You don’t understand. It’s not something you look at. I don’t think the collective sees this. They wouldn’t admit it. It’s such a feature of India when you’re a foreigner living here. You get it all the time, discrimination. I can’t show you this. You’re not a foreigner, but can I show you your attitudes to me? They suck. They’re not right.
Okay dosa flavor— you’ve got to incorporate mankind, and all the idiosyncrasies of the Indian psyche, the ones that block evolution, have to be fielded and tested and made to change. A foreigner does that in the Yoga of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo— of course. I just hear you praise yourselves and look down on everybody else. You can’t take criticism, not even in the spirit of a sadhak. Can I change? That’s what I’ve done among you, taken a horrible disorder and India’d it. No other place on Earth could do that. The soul of India is wide and free, and it is here Supermind came down, and I’m right there in that cradle.
Now am I makin’ sense? You see me. I gave you the truth of my being. It’s all in order, settled down now, a fit receptacle for the word, and you hear it now. My little boy’s there too, trainin’ mode. I’ll show ‘im to your shortly, when we get ‘im back home.
Seen moved realty, but no one’s lookin’. Can you see guidelines? We’d have to spell out each and every individual situation. That can’t be done, but can we understand our genitals have us in prison? And when body parts get handled, or even measured, and it’s not get up and go that wedding ring, we have a conniption. Put a kid in there, and you make them think they’ve been killed. No this is not permissiveness speaking. I’m just sayin’ don’t react like it’s the end of the world. Don’t hate the genital player and want them dead. Heal them. Put ill will on the situation, and everybody dies. Let the genitals be free from only sexual expression. They can be out in public, if they’re not horny. Don’t be so uptight about them. Give them room to breathe.
Give them room to grow into a true genital opening. That’s beyond touch. It’s an esoteric chakra opening, with no field play. My God they’re good. Are you tall enough for that? It’s wonderful. It’s ecstasy, but it doesn’t touch another person, and you don’t touch yourself. Orgasmic in its intensity, it flowers you there. This is abstinence without denial. It happens to the open vehicle.
You’re too prude for that, adult Indian. Did I just knock your nationality? No I’m countin’ sheep, and not just Indian, but you can’t tell me there’s not prudishness here, all over your rules and regulations and moral reactions involving the least little bit of nudity not on ancient statues or on some naked sadhu, rare though he is today. What exception makes you liberal? Now let’s go to town. We need to start the day.
One see how ugly it is, even if there’s a divine calling rock bottom potential. What’s that supposed to mean? What about that in your own bill? Do you touch the stuff? Spiritual technology shows you how, gives you that medicine ring on your finger. Try to do it without fantasies, glued to no one, no other genital involved, not even lookin’ at another body. You’ve got your mind’s eye in the pleasure of your own hand, like a kid does it not teened yet, remember?
You’ve got a blank white horse, does not incur any wrath, and it’s perfectly natural and clean. That’s the way to do it if you’re horny, and you’ve haven’t achieved mastery yet. Do you hear me Steve, Gwendo? Would you call that sex? Feels good doesn’t it? And that’s what you tell the child you find them doin’ it. It’s not a join hands. You don’t rob them of their pleasure. Okay sweetheart? We’re all innocent here.
See if you could let a poem come, inevitable in its rose. Do you hear me? Pardon my English paper. Language is on the floor. You would write your need. How’s that done? Holdin’ back the thoughts, an arrival comes. It pops in a sudden keeper. You don’t hold it open with your thought. You wait for the next line in blank mind. It comes along the edges of your reason. It surprises you with its intensity and its forward motion.
I could’ve just gone walkin’. I lifted my voice and gave you a song, with intent/purpose in it. [above words heard spoken simultaneously] I could’ve just given you a paper the walls of the motion picture write. You see it glows. It wraps us all around in the society of little business, but you see the form of its arrival from print-wood, where it comes from the inner Void a miraculous light in time. Don’t just stand there, write.
This is a tender box. Well it is, and from that well comes the world all on fire with the mystery you can’t solve: from where does the poem arise, if it’s bigger than your piece of paper, if it’s greater than your pen, something bigger than anything existence owns? You want to touch it. This is beyond consciousness. I block it anywhere I position myself in time Monday through Friday. My little boy will get here a sudden epiphany. Impending arrival— everything now it’s done. Captures the wallpaper of the mystery behind time you never even heard of, the mystery that wears a face, giving this film a package delivery. I wanna see it on the wall. In a little while I’ll have you in my arms, in a little while. [above three lines heard sung] It was a soul wrote.
The attitude was small, featureless in Auroville, a flip cart. It was a place into the opposite half, busy with sex and let the world fall, everybody who had arms in their pants. There were very few celibacies. It gathered there watch the old house where sex was concerned. Abstinence was a penance imposed upon Puritans. Nobody flowered out the top of their head an ascending orgasm, what you waste when you masturbate or cum. You don’t even know it’s there, but let’s look at the spiritual consciousness, Silent Mind in Overmind, a way station along the way that has to be done. Do you know it’s there? I’m sorry it’s not about the cells. Abstinence will show you when it’s not abstinence but integration, and you desire can be right there in bed with you, and you’re holdin’ your desire tight, and you leave the genitals out of it. Can you control mastery? If that’s where you live you go. Finding partners to sleep with to test mastery fails.
We remain in place and be that bigger than ourselves and our surroundings, and when desire no longer has your toes, and you’re not bleedin’ reaction but stayin’ calm, still the mind; in quiet peace comes. You don’t even have to tell anybody. Just do it. Goddamn it feels good. Let’s open ecstasy, shall we? Now you’re in your room, and Auroville can’t bother you anymore, and just a few of you can change it, just by being receptacles of the new wine Auroville waits. It’s a mountain now.
His mother at the Child Welfare Committee meetingNithish at the meeting, in-between tears
That’s for grown social media posts. She’s unbelievable. Look at her, a stage in the groundwater. The American field, this is a story of S. Nithish. That’s been the biggest disappointment in my life so far. Will fill you Earth that suffering. Nithish is gone.
Two sizes too small, India to deal with it. I came I went I sorrow. Let’s explode these pleasantries. Demon monsters, can you imagine, rule over kids in Pondicherry? You hear this mother beat her kid with ‘em. No one will help me stop that, and I can’t see my kid. Stuff like this you get away from. You don’t entertain them with your kids. Cruelty is as cruelty does.
How’d we do that, let that happen? The absence of miracle might wanna tell you there’s a mountain. The boy’s in there. Double helper, somebody call Nithish one. He will help me, and there is a fantastic here, and this is Auroville’s: he will tell the story far and wide, help evolution so a kid don’t get beat anywhere on Earth.
But India, he’s gonna show to the world first. She beats her children. Her children get beat there, and not a kid gets saved. It’s normal for parents to beat their children in India the Puducherry Child Welfare Committee told me, and Nithish was sittin’ right there cryin’. You think that’s funny? They were laughin’ with his mother afterwards.
Nowhere left to go. There is not a person that can help me, not anywhere on the planet. You would not believe the list I’ve bade to help me. They’ve all laughed, or if they felt empathy, they just put it down. It amounted to nothing more than a pencil spray.
No one helped while I was crushed under the wheels of this revolving universe. No one even thought they should. I just sat there and died. I’ve unlocked cruelty, like it’s the bowels of the Earth. People just showed it to me. Never see my boy again, like he’d been killed in a car accident. The grief is the same.
A mother and father landed guilt. I was their son’s first choice, and this had been going on for years, until their jealousy came to such a pitch they decided to punish me for it, punish their son too. I would never see my boy again. They knew the bond.
I did nothing wrong, but they made me out to be a monster trying to steal their son. Everybody on the planet believed them. I don’t even talk about the underbelly of hell I went through. Insanity grabbed my clothes. Things I cannot speak about visited me. I’m a seer you see, wide open to the universe.
The divine I looked to to save me abandoned me. Even my soul cried. I was a baby for a moment. I lost everything about me and just became blind reaction. I lost the whole world. Everybody turned their backs to me. This was horrible suffering. I couldn’t get out of it. I just swallowed of hell as each day wore on.
You don’t know the price of suffering when your boy is still alive and you can hold him if but that people could feel your pain. Why wouldn’t anyone let me? The boy was not in a casket. The mother reveled in this. She made me pay for her inadequacies. She shielded her son from me by holding her hand over his face or keeping him behind her when meeting had brought us together. No one questioned this or thought it odd. This was India at its worst.
That mother got her revenge because I was a better mother to that child, and everybody let her do it, the Law, the Child Welfare Committee, the rule of India. No one spoke of reconciliation or healing. Fairness and wisdom were not to be found. It was get that foreigner and make him pay for superior being some question we ask ourselves. Why would you use it? Can we just get to development with our humanity in our hands?
I don’t think you understand the price of cruelty. It sums up our bad day. It haunts us at night in our dreams. It makes us slap our children because we can’t admit it’s there. Can I show it to you? I can’t see my son, and you all agree with that because I give you an opportunity to be cruel.
You can get away with it. I’m not anybody special. You don’t have to defer to me, and I hold the foreigner’s worth. That’s not quite a human being with the locals. Would you just principally see that Tamil Nadu? Hateful right up to say Indian.
Cruel, there’s not a name for it in India they are just so cruel, the Indians I called to help. Have I overlooked you Masil Johnson? You didn’t help. You sure didn’t help. One childhood, did anybody stop that mother from toring it asunder?
I’m gonna have to look after civilians. Madras Dyslexia Association will you come to help? Everybody his mother beats him for dyslexia, not just for loving me. You’re like really stupid. How many people say dyslexia here? No, you won’t mention the abuse. You don’t know how to handle it. Parental rights, even the welfare of the child is small in comparison.
You don’t even see mothers beating their children. Nithish has that in arm. The cruelty of his mother, everybody look at this please. Look halfway around the world. You know America beats her children too.
Okay Nithish you’re up. That’s my emergency. You heard me. Stop my mother from beating me, come on. Soon a major character, where we stop kids from getting hit, my little boy Nithish.
I got no out here to accept. He got no in there to… That’s your final. He makes things right just by bein’ himself. Our soldiers were held by death and many chisels. Put that rocket ship. He better India’d. Can you give me a minute? That’s bro what am I worried about?
He’s the only one that we want to hear. He’s the only one that we want to help. But the foreigner has challenged you.
Liberated me, bright colors, and he helped himself, like a book report, and he helped every kid in the world the new statesman. That’s the formula needed for world change, the child stands up for himself, and he’s Indian. Bravo.
This is a photo of Nithish my advocate took at his office last night, May 7. He has lost so much weight, the hollow look on his face and in his eyes I cannot stop crying over. He did not look like this when his mother took him from my house.
I am very embarrassed to explain, but I lost control of my emotions in a meeting with the mother and the boy and my advocate. When she entered, she kept the boy behind her, using her hand to put over his face so he could not see me. I went behind him and put my hands on his head, and she quickly maneuvered so that I couldn’t touch him. There had been a second, when he was on the stars behind his mother, that he gave a week smile, but after that he pretended I was not even there.
The mother, boy, and the advocate went to the office, and I stood near the door, until they shut it. I could hear the boy crying and then the advocate shouting at him. Then I and my grown son was called into the office. I just looked at Nithish, who was trying to pretend I wasn’t there. I could not take that, and I began asking him to please speak to me, say anything but say something, and he would not. I asked him is he loved me, and he gave a weak yes, and then I began asking him about his mother hitting him with a flat board, what he had told to me to begin by in a phone conversation the very night before. He nodded a weak yes, that the advocate saw but not the mother, and when she turned her head to look at him, he stopped assenting. I told him that he had told me to do that, and he would speak, and he nodded his head again, and when the mother looked, he stopped.
I had pulled out my phone in the beginning of the meeting, and my advocate told me not to make a video. But then I saw the mother holding her phone like she was making one, and I knocked it out of her hands across the room. Then She took Nithish by the arm to leave, but I blocked her, telling the advocate that he saw the boy’s being abused and brainwashed, and I asked him to call child welfare. He refused. He physically took a hold of me and began moving me out of the office so the mother could leave with the boy, in a way that I could have to contact, even be near him. I was trying my best to keep her from taking him out of that office. I failed, and they left, and then I was severely dressed down for my actions by the advocate, asking me if I wanted to go to jail, and I was told once again, that in India, you can do anything about child abuse, not matter if it’s illegal or not.
I tried to explain that I am not India, am an emotional American, and that for two months I had been in severe emotional distress, getting calls from my boy to help him, and here I just could not not hug him or greet him, how impossible that was for me. I had to get him to speak to me.
So, it’s now over, and I am returning to America in the fastest possible way. I have to get away from this pain that boy giving it to me. If he won’t help, then I can do nothing for him. I’m sorry. I did my very best, and no one out there would help either. I never even got a single comment for support in any of these posts describing this tragic situation.
I’m alone with Luna, her dog paws on my shoulder. This girl has watched over me the whole time. I’ve scared her so many times. My crying at night has made her feel the safety of hell. She licks me in my face if I am sobbing, lays her whole body against me, if the night is really bad, and do you know how that feels? That girl’s in love.
I can’t tell you the love of a dog. We’re cheated by the form. There’s an angel there, looking over their beloved child-man, their heart wrapped around the divine moon. You don’t know dogs, even if you have one. They get in there with you, closer in life than your children can, and they dream with you, and you have no idea how real on Earth this is. Oh she has been in my dreams, her and silly Bruno, watching over me, making sure they’re there, whatever happens.
Can you count this? Can I even show it to you? Rottweilers in love, a thing on the mountain, holding her master close, holding her master safe. The Gods see her and call her name. This is true love, and no one can match it, not even my boy, but it’s not returned to the measure she gives, and that’s the gift of dogs: they will love you even knowing their dog doesn’t get the count of human. You will see him soon Luna.
Oh she misses you so Nithish. You were her little boy. Their play would fill the night sky, lickings and squealings of laughter, playful growls and sudden swoons. Oh when you were taken by force from my house, for days she waited by the front door for your return. That dog carried your sadness for longer than dogs do, and I am sure, if we could see them, she’s been in your dreams too.
Oh why all this pain on Earth for us? It’s unbelievable. It’s real, and it was given for nothing more than for a little boy preferring his grandfather over his parents, all this hell unleashed on the heart of this little child, our dogs, and upon me. Will you please speak up and grant these parents the reckoning they’ve called for? Oh Luna, this is the pilot moon. This is the pilot poem, and I’m going to the moon in God’s love.
I will answer you tomorrow, when we have our day in court, with the testimony I’ve prepared, and what has been your art? That boy belongs to us by virtue of his birth. We don’t care what he needs. We don’t care what he wants. We want him all for ourselves, never mind the pain, never mind the torment that we have given our son to make him comply to our will. We have no heart in this matter. We only have our selfish desire to possess this boy, and why do we say that? So he can go to school on our terms and forget the call to God.
Now we will word this differently. We’ve been coached by our betters. But they have overlooked one thing, haven’t they Sandiya, Sundar? Your natural parental rights are not rights to abuse your child. Is that understanding? Is that clear enough? Take him from his grandfather because you fear he loves me more? All the pain you’ve given him, because of that? That’s punishment, because you don’t measure up to be good parents, and you’ve punished him for that.
I’m on the case a Nithish’s rights campaigner, and even if you kill me, or remove me from the land, behind that veil I will work, still continuing to free my little boy. No power on Earth can stop me, and only the Hostile Powers try. I’m a force of God’s will in his life and his soul’s expression for this lifetime. That’s why dear parents he has not forgotten me, you have not killed his love. God and soul arranged it. Do you hear that? You will in court.
You didn’t count on a speaker from divinity’s trees. You thought spirituality was a walk on hot coals in irons, but here it is I reveal the sweetness of the Spirit, and the certainty of its peace, now leading this boy to safety, out of his parents’ grasp. On wonderful, spirituality I walk the Earth. Are you aware of this Sandiya, Sundar? You don’t have a leg to stand on God’s ground. Do you hear God’s love?
What are you going to show that you are good parents, a video you let someone make of your toddler masturbating? That’s not good parenting, and it’s even against the law. Well, we’re here, right at the release of that video to the proper authorities. Yes you can face it as a family torn asunder, but that will be for the court to decide, when the judge is shown your film. And what will he say, Nithish belongs with you?
Have you gauged the strategy I have painstakingly laid out? I’m no stranger to danger. In 1983 with my Special Force A Team, I parachuted in Germany with an atom bomb. In 1995 in Old Jerusalem, on the top of Mt. Sinai, and inside the Great Pyramid in Egypt, I taped to walls and rocks and sarcophagi poems of love and human unity and redemption, the only way to heal human evil, full holistic love. Dangerous both actions were. I guarantee you I tried to change the world even then. Now you’re a little woman living in a little world, and you’re a man who’s murdered other men ‘cause your gang told you to.
Okay, God’s plan, would you be the people that carry that out? Out there in the audience, what would you say? You’ve been silent this whole time, except for a glimmer or two of hope for this boy. You say you love children, but you don’t. Racist and antagonistic, only children should obey their parents and go to school exam and all. Anything else is wrong for the child.
Okay India, can we see this on the world stage please, your manner with children? It’s here you need to work the most, not with rocket ships, airports and guns, Hindu society, excluding all passports but theirs. Changing your name, you can square one that out.
Okay India, I call you out. Bharat, India, the river of the Ganges, your children deserve better treatment than to be the property of their parents to abuse them or use them, and to have school shoved upon their lives, like is it the measure of them. Do you hear me India? You need to protect your children.
Bharat, or whoever you are, why doesn’t Modi sing this? Oh your parents reflect the mode of government: total control in the guise of I will help you there. Can’t you see this? You’re blind. Hindu is only your way to God, but you’ve made it your soul’s cage. One everybody, one is the nature of things. It is oneness not Hinduism really what Hindu means. Take your national election and say that. You wouldn’t vote BJP. I’m writing poems now, political, hear them? Take a scroll and paper now, and just print it out.
photo by Nithish
I’m in trouble. What balloon will show? Did you take candy from your little brother? No, my momma sat on her spoon. I can’t get help now. I’m being punished for you. You said some things. They worry. I’ve put them on hold, and I’m modestly arranging you now. They aren’t happy with it. They think I’m crazy. I think they’d like to kill me if they could. I hold all the monsters. I talked to you today, trying to listen, trying to sound. I don’t know the zeros. I don’t know the plans. It’s a weird bunch of consciousness my mind don’t know how to read. Are you listing to me? I’m giving you a message. I’d like to see your men arrive. Double click that. I’m scared of what you might bring. You might take down the whole house, but you might just come get me, and I give you my hand. Everybody’s so crazy around here. They’re all waiting for you to arrive. Can we see that sentence again please? I know there’s something going on with you, and you’ve scared my parents. They’re talking of killing you. What would I do to warn you? Easy phone calls make hard bread. I am so scared to call. You root around my day, calling for me to call you. I hear it in the sky. I see it in the trees. And would the river say that? I’m on calling you, and I try. This thing sticks in my mind, but the risk would just kill me if they found out. I’m sorry you’ll have to wait. May I have a minute? My little brother’s dead. He got caught handlin’ spoons. She rushed him to the hospital, pouring hot water over him. That was Varun. I’m not the only one who gets beat around here. No, it wasn’t his joystick. He grabbed somethin’ and run. I didn’t like the sound of him crying. Do you hear me when I speak? I talk to you a lot. I’m listenin’ for the muse. I don’t get it like I used to. I’m not the same boy that I was. Will you like me anymore? I’ve been crushed. I’m sorry to say that I have, and I’m not defendin’ myself. That’s what I don’t believe. Self-nature’s got a plan. They will hear my voice my parents, whether you’re there or not. Oh hurry daddy.
Sit down. This is system failure, what you do with your children that doesn’t put them first place, their minds, their bodies, their little wills. They have a voice you know, and you’re ignoring it. You don’t even listen to children. They are things to you to keep and care for and mold into your society. You possess them. They are yours. In India it’s abuse.
You don’t know what this does to a kid, to not let his identity speak out. It hurts him. It damages her. How can I show this to you? Their wills matter, their lifeline, their own personal destiny, apart from their parents, apart from everyone in the world but them. They are individuals, and that’s important. We’re losing the world that way, one damaged child at a time, who grows up to think the world is ruled by society, and the people there are its system keepers.
Who would dream to change the system, unless it’s towards more group think, more authority over our lives, more laws and greater punishments? We don’t go the other way. Even spirituality’s a drag here. It’s not liberalness I’m talking about. It’s a better society for all. Liberal ideas make plans. They’re not supposed to make everybody gay. I don’t think we know what liberal means. It’s not on the calendar today.
Can I show you my life’s worth come together with this boy? I’m afraid my poetry would rock the Earth, if you gave us permission to speak. I’m not the only one here who’s a poet. My boy’s become one too, the beginning stages, the starting out. Can we show you what we’ve done? It’s all in pages now. Start with Harm’s End and go to YouTube, not my channel his, and then you’ll end up on Twitter, and you’ll see him since he was seven. He’s 12 now. Unbelievable, your eyes pop out, the photography, the poetry, the one on one love out. You know I’m countin’ sheep. Wake up people, rise. It’s time we built a new society, and we start with our children.
Anybody argue with that? Go atom bomb the world. Keep on our present course, and we won’t have a world no more. Come on people, embrace change. I’m here beside you, and man I change too.
System failure the Dukes of Hazard (and I will adopt this boy, you wait and see) keep from happening with our poetry. Put it down to the divine word. India, you hear that. That’s our anthem today. Land it on student rose into the big house, into high society, into where we need to be, thank God in love. We are safety Earth.
He’s tellin’ me he’s not gonna learn Tamil. Free up your mind. You have a system reach in there and grab you. They own you, your parents. I am there to see that happen: you become your own person, out from under their control, under my care, because they have raped you with their control, not sexually, in the very heart of process identity. They have raped you there, and the court will see this and award me custody. I will not take your culture from you sweetheart. I will take you to America, and there you can be the teenager you dreamed to be. Am I out of line? I am right there with your soul in the situation, and I will free you from them, and put you on the right path to where you belong in life. To India you will return, because that’s your destiny, but in America you will put on your poet wings and learn to fly, and when you fly back home to mother India, the world will stand still a moment as the poet takes his station.
I will rise to that occasion myself here in my station now. Now I’m flyin’. Am I just a foreigner, or have I put on Indian wings? You hear the soul of India in my voice, and for that she allowed me be here. Wanna throw this away? I dare you.
photo by Douglas
To change Indian, what it means to change the rocket ship of the Earth. India needs her spirituality, not her religion, to give the world the means to change. You are the example for us all. It’s not America. It’s India, where the change begins, right there with your children, giving them the freedom to live what their soul purpose put them here for, what there for them God has arranged. You don’t put parental rights in that slot. Oh seer, begin with the child.
Have I reached your understanding? This is world business. We’re not here to make guns, run the profit, or put our mark on the moon, although we do have a moon purpose. We’re here to unfold our souls on planet Earth, what it means to be human in the vulnerability of our craft, where sincerity is the order of the day, and love goes round to all. Would you argue with that? What kind of world do you want? A seership asks that question. Can you put on this music. Okay let’s ride.
It’s business bottom line now, but start with the children and that will change. Are you seein’ this baby dog? My wonderful little boy, that’s why you’ve come. You’re gonna stand up for children, and you’ve walked through hell to get there. It’s not because you’re bad sweetheart they’ve taken down your life. You need to know the price of suffering in a little boy’s heart and mind, so you can rise to your purpose. If you did not know folly you could not heal folly. If you did not know the child’s fall their parents make, you couldn’t help one child up. Congratulations my sweet little boy, you’ve won. Hey Nithish, you’re free. I wrote to see you in the morning. You know we’ll be together soon.
This is not Auschwitz, but you’re hangin’ in your home on your parents’ rope. Pleasures, punishments, they mixed the two, so they can say look, he’s smiling, everything’s okay, but it’s not is it? Scared to death you call me and tell me of your woes. I’m not making any of this up. Okay this is the rescue I promised from the beginning. It’s here. I’ve come. Let’s see your parents’ love for you. Will they make this go to court, stubbornly in their pride? Or will they see wisdom and release you into your fuller life? Okay I’ve put the question. I’ve wrote the poem. Sandiya, Sundar, do you want your family torn apart? No court is necessary. He just comes with me, and you will see him I promise, as often as he like. Even from America he can come and visit you. So what do you choose, a family torn asunder in a court’s by law decree, or your boy granted freedom to be what he was meant to be? You choose. I’m waiting.
Now Nithish, do your part, and stand up to your parents, with respect and consideration, but not with giving in, and tell them what you need, not what they want to hear. You have been put on Earth for this. If you can’t do this, what child can? Loud and clearly tell them they’ve hurt you and please stop. I go back to my grandfather now. They’ll hear you, if they love you, and you’ll come back to me. Do it fast. There’s so much danger on our road. Are you listenin’? We’ve miracled consciousness you and I, and yes you are. Let the mountains sing. You hear me on the inside.
I love the sweet sound of music a racin’ to me on the inside from this boy’s consciousness. Can you do that? We can. You’re gonna see this out, our special love, [above line heard sung by the Bee Gees, to tune of “Too Much Heaven”] and you’re gonna know the world can change. We’re gonna world this out. Come on play with me. In prevision see what this boy’s told me, his voice from the past, to help me guide him out of this prisonhood with his parents. You’re not gonna believe it, but you’re gonna see it. A bonafide miracle YouTube channel. His last two videos, check them out. That’s S. Nithish, and we’ll change the world now. Got it sweetheart? Good, I’ll be there to pick you up soon. Gee whiz, what a message poem, and it’s right on the edge of the Earth, turnin’ towards the Sun. That’s what we do together, I love you.
Get it spiritual, not religion. Glory hallelujah that’s plan. Can I show you the inner process? I’m right around the corner, Bharat India. Seership said that. That’s all I’m doin’, focused on that kid. See the results. Grow the rays to test an experiment: can we connect with each other in consciousness, when outer contact’s not there, or very nearly none, if our love is pure, and the need is there, and the bond is there? He needs to be rescued. I need to see it done. I practiced so much with dogs first, my beloved Lisa, my dead Rottweiler, and now with Luna and our other dogs. You would not believe the inner contact in consciousness you can have with your pets. You turn that up a notch when it’s with your child, but there’s danger here. It can’t be for control or manipulation, and that soul has to let you in, and you soul has to say okay, and divine beings will be around to help. Oh my God they see you here. And Hostile Powers will be there to slay. And behind it all God is just really talkin’ to Himself. Do you get that meaning? The consciousness speaks. I think I raised the barn. In any event, success in experiment. We really accomplish it, navigating human inside, and the soul agrees.
There’s a perplexing. There’s a shared field of consciousness between these two. You have to be alive with the program to see it. Question both of them, you will find it out. It’s hiddenly there. The videos are just one example. They get it all day long. It’s not bad it’s good, and it’s humanity. Tear it asunder? What’s you’re lookin’ at is the future of mankind. You will throw that away, if you can’t understand it’s true. We share consciousness together, the whole human race. What a good society. What a good story. Deliver it to delivery.
photo by Douglas
We made each other laugh. That was the mystic advocating for himself. You know it’s there from their crying pain. They longed for each other. They lunged for each other, and they found each other deep inside the other’s consciousness. You’ve never seen this before. It’s what we’re lookin’ at. It’s how we square ourselves away. You know you’re your brother’s keeper, and Heaven and Earth will not stop you from being that. You know. It’s how we survive. We find this out.
Can I please have my MTV? Okay, let these boys be together. It’s weird. It’s strange. It’s huge, but it’s how we get there: we become each other’s consciousness. Now you see it. Now you don’t, but you’ll learn it’s there enough practice. It’s amazing to look at, and here is amazing for you. It’s a field of love, and you cannot deny love, if it’s real love, no matter what you do. These parents tried. They failed, and they went to extremes to do so, and they punished the boy for their failure. How’s that for mean? Are you gonna do the same thing? They need to be together now. Don’t be his parents. They got mean. Just let ‘em go, be together, and see what they do. The world has never seen it before, a man and a boy, and a couple too, changing the whereabouts of being human in the direction of love. You got a problem with that? I didn’t think so. Give them their space. They need it. We balloon together.
His mother’s paradise law, you need to understand it’s not how the system works. She almost killed him for it. Don’t let her do it again. Protect this boy from her emotional dependency, her manipulation, her control. That’s child abuse India, and you need to see it. That’s what this boy went through. Now let’s go, the man and boy see each other again. She almost tore him asunder with that. She took away his life, his love, his dogs, his everything, just so she could eat him alive. Are you good with that? I didn’t think so. Now he needs healed from that abuse, that squashing of his identity, that day and night tirade to make him love her and forget this man. Why on Earth would you not let this man heal him?
I’ve got in in store, and it’s a simple equation: I meet his needs over mine. I give him a safe place to start his life over again. I give him his beloved dogs. Is anybody worried about what they went through? I give him his space to be himself. I don’t put rules on him to keep him to me or curtail his growth. I teach him myself his homeschool, and I will broaden his horizons with this teacher and that place, and these children, to give him the fellowship he needs, the other input than mine, and the interesting lands ahead. I’ve got it covered. Will you let me heal him? That’s what we’re doin’ here. That’s why I’ve called you all to this poem.
Okay it’s the strangest thing you’re lookin’ at. It’s the inner voice, how directed and true. Why would you go back to business as usual? Because you can’t take the new? He’s real, and he’s right here. Would you please question that boy about child abuse? He’s waitin’. He’s ready. He’s told me to tell you to come. Get him away from his mother and protect him afterwards. She will destroy him for it, and you have more than one crime there. Find them out, crimes against a child. Is that okay with you? Now go, get this boy. Talk to him. Get him to his man and let him be healed. Why would the system do it? It was the system did this to him, and we’re here today for system change. That’s on the record. It’s on the menu today.
Sundar’s telephone number, his father +91 9952022448 Sandiya’s telephone number, his mother +91 9384460042
Harm's End 