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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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