He just wants the people he love to be fair to. (vision of Nithish standing in the forest at a microphone stand and speaking into the mic) Life is a very changed little boy. He’s not gonna control. Will see everything eight thousand, which means he doesn’t see it as himself.
You gotta take the phone out of his hands and let him listen to you. You got a therapy. You can help it. In the interest of therapy you will go. Okay then, a PowerPoint presentation, you spend the night with me in the phone.
He had just been through a hard time for any conversation at all with him. I let him throw the other people in jail. A file said that. Boy’s not gonna go crazy and do anything rough to his daddy.
Just bury your head and see now’s not a good time. I vintage. We’re tired. It’s been my dream to have a mountain visit with daddy. I can’t get up.
They don’t go. They don’t leave him out. They guard him all the time. It’s impossible to see him wherever they visit. I can’t hear a car.
Did you make yourself useful? Not yet. See you soon Nithish. Goin’ to Kuru you’re not fondu, over? I don’t think so. I stay away from that plan.
Why is the son not supporting seeing me? What is that? (two visions of ugly, insane pictures of some horrible place) Hell my mother makes me imagine, my mother messages me. There is a want to see you gotten in.
Could not believe it, we are right where we see each other weird, but I belong to him. In a child’s mind three and a half months is a long time not bein’ with his daddy. He forgets the report. He forgets the love and attention.
Christ look ahead. Don’t overlook your eves. Does it take all day? I’m with you so much right now, watch your glow. (vision of Ramya, a young woman I’m a daddy to. She’s looking at me and smiling) You give everybody kindness. Give me your love and support.
On Monday the child never woke back. Come here. I told him tomorrow’s thinking about that does not measure our true love. Have a good day. I love you.
Go into the Earth tower, I have to maintain. I cannot see Nithish and that kills me. I watch his moods change from day to day. I’m inside his consciousness you see. He toys with me like a rabbit and then just puts me down and forgets about me for a while.
We achieved union together, and this is the price I pay for it. A child does not know your worth. They only see themselves. I can’t take this child anymore. I carry his pain all day. He just wants to be happy and forget about me. I’m too much trouble for him right now.
What evil is this a mother does to her child? No one questions the mother’s insanity to forbid any contact whatsoever, when she herself will admit I was good to the boy and did not abuse him.
This is killing his character, but this is India, and we don’t protect our children, and we do not know the damage the heart can do to a child that’s been made to kill his love for one of his parents. This boy will not be kind.
I can only sit here and watch it all and cry. I so want to help my boy. I am with him every minute of every day, and the sleepless nights just tear me apart, and it’s all I can do to maintain, and I must maintain.
Do you consider me? I’m a value in consciousness, and the same you hear from me I opened up in this boy, but that has been killed too, and no one seems to mind.
I love you Nithish, and I will not give up on you, and I understand your pain and your need to be a boy. I am a parent and I can take sacrifice. I just wish you could see me as I am and not in the stench of gaslight you mother has put you through.
It’s inevitable that one day you will. A demon can only hold the field for so long before the divine forces prevail. Do you see me Nithish? I am here, and I’m not going anywhere.
Now in this book’s title, What the F**k? Over. We want you to talk about it. Tell her about the abuse, that she fellatio model for sure. Why didn’t you show me this before? It’s too giant. You wouldn’t believe it. It’s the handle of this story.
Now rock bottom, tell me if it’s true or not. She put her office there. I don’t think he wanted it very far. Look you package it. Did she do it? She could not last the temple. Maybe a really good feel. He just stood there and, and she gave it five or six tights. She did that with her mouth. He pulled her off of it.
I’m a f**king stick, and I want you to be quiet about this, and this is how we arrange things I control you. I’m on the end of your baby handle, where’s mommies has been look since early baby days when the Earth gave you to me, and that was the red angle that I washed.
Who controls the genital controls the child, even if it’s not molested. We politic here. This is what we are guarding in children. It is not just sex we are afraid of. It is the enormity of the relationship the child finds itself in when they have given this central command module to an adult keeper and abuser. It is here we ring the alarm.
No parent to you in the chair means that was not your cradle, that was not your hold that baby sweetly, that was not change his diaper, that was not teach him to walk, and that was not to show him the world for the first time, and all the things in it that made him wonder and laugh and cry when it hurt him. You did not sooth that child in the bottom years of his life, those three years of Earth when he rose into human being. It is there we hold him his parents say, and you have no right there they tell me.
Is this all that’s wrong? I have been his parent for life. I came in when that boy left his toddler years, and I formed him into the boy he is now, formidable years, the ones his two front teeth came out, and the teeth there that I had him grow back were not mean. They were full of spiritual impulse, and they formed his muse, the poetry he writes from inner house, and that is my job with him. He is a poet to show the world we have to change our way with children.
We have to make it right with them. We have to give them ourselves so they can be themselves. We do not own them. God does, and is our job to help them discover their soul’s purpose in life, even if that is not where we want them in our home.
This is the parent I am to that boy, and even if he never sees me again, I have parented him there, and that is in the bowels of the Earth, and no amount of hatred and brainwashing on his parents’ part can remove that from his life.
Here on social media I have not called a name, and I have not shown a face. I have broken no rules of engagement, and I want the world to see what you have done to this child, just at that point in his life, at the very second, the body wills into adolescence, and you have damaged him there, ruined him, and you will see this bear fruit.
I’m all over this with my arm, and I know how to heal this boy. Please step aside and let it be done. Put down your jealous egos and let me save your child from the hells and howevers of being a sociopath. I cannot state it more clearly. Now you see it, let me heal him.
துஷ்பிரயோகத்தை சொல்லுங்கள்
இப்போது இந்தப் புத்தகத்தின் தலைப்பில், என்ன வெண்ணெய் முடிந்துவிட்டது? நீங்கள் அதைப் பற்றி பேச வேண்டும் என்று நாங்கள் விரும்புகிறோம். துஷ்பிரயோகம் பற்றி அவளிடம் சொல்லுங்கள், அவள் நிச்சயமாக அதன் உதாரணம். இதை ஏன் எனக்கு முன்பே காட்டவில்லை? இது மிகவும் பெரியது. நீங்கள் அதை நம்பமாட்டீர்கள். இது இந்தக் கதையின் கைப்பிடி.
இப்போது கீழேயுள்ளது உண்மையா இல்லையா என்று சொல்லுங்கள். அங்கே தன் அலுவலகத்தை வைத்தாள். அவர் அதை வெகுதூரம் விரும்பியதாக நான் நினைக்கவில்லை. பேக் செய்து பாருங்கள். அவள் செய்தாளா? அவளால் கோவிலை நீடிக்க முடியவில்லை. ஒருவேளை ஒரு நல்ல உணர்வு. அவன் அப்படியே நின்று கொண்டு, அவள் அதற்கு ஐந்து அல்லது ஆறு டைட்களைக் கொடுத்தாள். அதை அவள் வாயால் செய்தாள். அவன் அவளை அதிலிருந்து விலக்கினான்.
நான் ஒரு கடினமான குச்சி, இந்த விஷயத்தில் நீங்கள் அமைதியாக இருக்க வேண்டும் என்று நான் விரும்புகிறேன், இப்படித்தான் நாங்கள் விஷயங்களை ஏற்பாடு செய்கிறோம் நான் உன்னைக் கட்டுப்படுத்துகிறேன். நான் உங்கள் குழந்தை கைப்பிடியின் முடிவில் இருக்கிறேன், அம்மாவின் பார்வை எங்கே ஆரம்ப குழந்தை நாட்களில் இருந்து பூமி உன்னை எனக்கு கொடுத்த போது அது சிவப்பு கோணம் நான் கழுவினேன் என்று.
பிறப்புறுப்பைக் கட்டுப்படுத்துபவர் குழந்தையைக் கட்டுப்படுத்துகிறார். அது துன்புறுத்தப்படாவிட்டாலும் கூட. நாங்கள் இங்கு அரசியல் செய்கிறோம். இதைத்தான் குழந்தைகளிடம் பாதுகாத்து வருகிறோம். நாம் பயப்படுவது செக்ஸ் மட்டும் அல்ல. இது உறவின் மகத்துவம் குழந்தை தன்னை கண்டுபிடிக்கிறது அவர்கள் இந்த மைய கட்டளை தொகுதியை வழங்கியவுடன் வயது வந்த காவலர் மற்றும் துஷ்பிரயோகம் செய்பவருக்கு. இங்கே நாங்கள் ஒலிக்கிறோம் அலாரம்.
உங்களுக்கு பெற்றோர் இல்லை நாற்காலியில் பொருள் அது உன் தொட்டில் இல்லை அது உன்னுடைய பிடி இல்லை, அந்த குழந்தையை இனிமையாக, அது அவரது டயப்பரை மாற்றவில்லை, அது அவனுக்கு நடக்க கற்றுக்கொடுக்கவில்லை. அது அவருக்கு முதல் முறையாக உலகத்தைக் காட்டுவதற்காக அல்ல. மேலும் அதில் உள்ள அனைத்து விஷயங்களும் அவரை வியக்கவும் சிரிக்கவும் வைத்தது அது அவரை காயப்படுத்தும்போது அழவும். நீங்கள் அந்தக் குழந்தையை சமாதானப்படுத்தவில்லை அவரது வாழ்க்கையின் கடைசி ஆண்டுகளில், பூமியின் அந்த மூன்று ஆண்டுகள் அவர் மனிதனாக உயர்ந்த போது. அங்குதான் அவரைப் பிடித்துக் கொள்கிறோம் அங்குதான் அவரைப் பிடித்துக் கொள்கிறோம் அவரது பெற்றோர் கூறுகிறார்கள், மேலும் உங்களுக்கு அங்கு உரிமை இல்லை அவர்கள் என்னிடம் சொல்கிறார்கள்.
இது மட்டுமா இதில் தவறு? நான் வாழ்நாள் முழுவதும் அவருக்கு பெற்றோராக இருக்கிறேன். நான் உள்ளே வந்தேன் அந்தச் சிறுவன் தன் குழந்தைப் பருவத்தை விட்டுச் சென்றபோது, நான் அவனை உருவாக்கினேன் அவன் இப்போது இருக்கும் சிறுவனாக, வலிமையான ஆண்டுகள், அவருடைய இரண்டு முன் பற்கள் வெளியே வந்தவை, நான் அவரிடம் இருந்த பற்கள் மீண்டும் வளரும் அர்த்தமற்றவை அல்ல. அவர்கள் ஆன்மீக தூண்டுதலால் நிறைந்திருந்தனர், அவர்கள் அவரது அருங்காட்சியகத்தை உருவாக்கினர், அவர் உள் வீட்டில் இருந்து எழுதும் கவிதை, அது அவருடன் என் வேலை. உலகைக் காட்டக் கவிஞன் குழந்தைகளுடன் நம் வழியை மாற்ற வேண்டும்.
அவர்களுடன் நாம் அதை சரி செய்ய வேண்டும். அவர்களுக்கு நாமே கொடுக்க வேண்டும் அதனால் அவர்கள் தாங்களாகவே இருக்க முடியும். அவை நமக்குச் சொந்தமில்லை. கடவுள் செய்கிறார், மற்றும் உதவுவது எங்கள் வேலை அவர்கள் வாழ்க்கையில் தங்கள் ஆன்மாவின் நோக்கத்தைக் கண்டுபிடிப்பார்கள், அது இல்லாவிட்டாலும் எங்கள் வீட்டில் அவர்கள் எங்கே வேண்டும்.
நான் இத்தகைய பெற்றோர் அந்த பையனுக்கு, அவர் என்னை மீண்டும் பார்க்காவிட்டாலும், நான் அவரை நன்றாக பார்த்துக்கொண்டேன், அது பூமியின் குடலில் உள்ளது, மற்றும் வெறுப்பு மற்றும் மூளைச்சலவை எந்த அளவு அவரது பெற்றோரின் தரப்பில் அதை அவனது வாழ்க்கையிலிருந்து நீக்க முடியும். இங்கே சமூக ஊடகங்களில் நான் பெயர் சொல்லவில்லை, மேலும் நான் முகம் காட்டவில்லை. ஏற்பாடுகளுக்கான விதிகளை நான் மீறவில்லை, இந்த குழந்தைக்கு நீங்கள் என்ன செய்தீர்கள் என்பதை உலகம் பார்க்க வேண்டும் என்று நான் விரும்புகிறேன், அவன் வாழ்வின் அந்த நேரத்தில் இரண்டாவது நேரத்தில், உடல் இளமைப் பருவத்தில் விரும்புகிறது, நீங்கள் அவரை அங்கே சேதப்படுத்தினீர்கள், அவனை அழித்து, இதன் விளைவை நீங்கள் காண்பீர்கள்.
நான் என் கையால் இதையெல்லாம் முடித்துவிட்டேன், இந்த பையனை எப்படி குணப்படுத்துவது என்று எனக்கு தெரியும். தயவு செய்து ஒதுங்கவும் அது நடக்கப்பெறட்டும். உங்கள் பொறாமை ஈகோக்களை கீழே போடுங்கள் உங்கள் குழந்தையை நான் காப்பாற்றட்டும் நரகத்தில் இருந்தும் மற்றும் சமூக விரோதி களிடமிருந்தும். இதைவிட தெளிவாக என்னால் கூற முடியாது. இப்போது நீங்கள் பாருங்கள், நான் அவனை குணமாக்க அனுமதியுங்கள்.
You deleted a poem, “Big Time Desire”, and I know why you did it. You didn’t wanna lie. I don’t want to play with that notion. Desire is present. Did she give Nithish a bath and wash his genitals?
There was no bath there, but she pushed him to expose himself to her, and played with his penis to make it stand. It was all aglow. She bent down and kissed it, and he felt warm there. She kissed the open head, where she was about to suck it, and she stopped herself.
This was in the bathroom behind closed doors. Stay with it. She never fondled him again, and she was scared he would tell, so she blanked him from you, will not give him the chance to see you to keep him from telling on her.
I need the phone number. Sorry, we’d take him before opening that round to you. What do I do with the public, restore the poem? Douglas didn’t wanna stop his sweeping and come down and do it. An overreacting to the turkey folder, why don’t you take it back to the station?
This is held up in court with him. (vision with the above line of him sitting in a barber’s chair, then standing up and turning towards me, but his body facing to the side, and giving me an open smile and then changing his body and face into a funny exaggerated posture like a kid does to exaggerate something) What does she feel like with my dogs? Emotional thing. She’s not into chasing you about this freeway. She just wants you to shut up about it, say it never happened, but this is the big story, what happened right after she took you from me, a mother’s folly with her son in the bath.
She thought she was trying to prove something to you, why she did that. It was localized fever. You were crying to see me, and it was a frantic moment. She had to have you calm down, so she took you in the bathroom and molested you, as I’ve described.
You stopped crying and gave her your penis like little boys do with their momma. You didn’t know she’d perform a sex act. It surprised you, buried you, and it felt good, and here’s the reaction that gave you to your mother: that was humiliating to let her see your desire, and it changed you into her boy, because she had uttered the secret password to a boy’s hidden feelings for his mother that you hide even from yourself. She control you there, reminds you of that humiliation wherever she controls you.
I’m sorry this happened. I need you taken out of her care and placed back in mine, and so I have to tell people about this my boy, so when they do come and question you, they will ask you about this. It happened. It’s real. I saw it in vision, and I saw it in your dreams before she took you, dreams that made you so embarrassed, where she came against you and made you do intercourse with her, in the weird way dreams suddenly make that happen, and you only wanted her love.
Two dreams of the same nature, not very far apart, they told me this happened. I’m putting it out to the public view. I have to. It’s an emergency. You have to be questioned about her, her slapping you, her beating you, her constant psychological manipulation, her guarding you from telling on her, so I tell on her here, and I tell on her in front of everybody. This woman needs her reckoning. She needs to face what’s she’s done, and here I’m making sure of that.
Did you get in touch to Chennai? You mean his father masturbated him there, pulled his warm pony? It happened a couple of weeks ago, the father on his fish, that warm handle. He needs to be questioned about this too. I saw it happen in vision, and the man was doing it to his little brothers every weekend he came home from Chennai. Nithish described it to me each time, and I warned him he’d want him too. Now it’s happened, and these parents are afraid Nithish would tell me everything, so I can’t see him, definitely, because they both molested Nithish. It’s on the tip of his tongue now. Just ask him.
And that we also teach at my house, bring Nithish home to safety. Vision of Nithish. Watch this poem. I’m not in it. You mean it’s a lie, some inner representation of some outer event, or it’s not even that? You’re not giving me a chance. You’re just tellin’ on me. You embarrass me in public, and I enjoyed it.
You will will not even call my name to your mother or father. You will is not my friend. I have to get you out of this bad situation, and you’re gonna have to admit that. You’re not gonna fall here. No one’s gonna take action. It would just give one more reason for you to be questioned away from your mother. It will make no big splash. Few will even read it. I state myself it’s conjecture. I have no proof these things occurred. I will just look like a parent trying to get custody back.
Why arm this sail then? The abuse needs to be noted in public, what your parents did to you to get you away from me. I’m not blind to what I’m doin’. It will not hurt you publicly, and I do not say you told me these things. I’m making an accusation, and I want people to find it out. That’s what I’m doing. That’s what I’m trying. I am helping you, and that’s what I do with my time.
Bless on shoulder what got in there. Very message your message to Nithish. That’s how he finds out it’s in his room now. How will I know he even reads it? YouTube channel, check there. I’m a message there.
One step for the game. Did the little boy see me? In his underpants, no dice. He would’ve cried if he could. He was on description. It was long and short. This buried him in memories. Wherever he had imagined he would live, never was it away from me.
We’ve got to get along here, so we can get back together. I don’t know fantasies. I hate being played with. I don’t know if he saw anything. I only know it hurts deep inside, and insanity has returned, and the walls are closing in. There’s no way outta here!
The passage of time is like hours that crawl through hell, and I am so deep underwater there’s no way up. The waves a grief tear at my throat, over and over again. Oh little boy I would like this fantasy real, and the Anarchs that play with me fuck you! Are you in my description my wonderful little baby dog?
It’s a thumbnail on your disease: get me all this food. Do you remember that? How can you forget our time together? Where have those memories gone? How do we find them? I’m sittin’ here livin’ with ‘em, and they bring on such tears. They’re crowding my life away, and I can’t see you anymore.
This is too much for me sure pet. It’s the infinity in the room. It’s eating me alive, and I’d almost rather die than be here, but I know that’s not true. Death is hell. I can’t do this. I need relief from my pain. You are gone forever aren’t you? This I cannot take.
Your form is haunting me. I feel you walk up to me over and over. It’s like you’re almost there. I feel you live and breathe, and this is too insane to think about, but I feel you baby dog, like you’re right here!
This is insane take, and I don’t know what I’m doing with you, and you’re all normal and not surprised that you’ve forgotten grief. I hate this undershed upnoodle. The ways of insanity go deep. The Anarchs of pain have arrived, and I will be shot dead soon. We just have left the rifle shot.
Claustrophobic, it’s the air I breathe. It’s on my downtown, and I can’t get outta here. It tries in space and blows it apart, and I just get snot on my nose. Oh Nithish I love you Nithish.
Wait a minute, that’s you, actually you, comin’ to me again. Insanity by the hours, I’m not goin’ crazy. I'll be comin' for yah, honey dog, on the edge of tomorrow, within the next fews days. How do I know this is true? Read my blog. Put us together on WordPress. Compliment to go, I’m so excited.
This is Nitish’s new video for his YouTube Channel
Nitish wrote this song himself, while in school. Sitting in class, the core of the song and its basic melody came to him via the inner voice in the space of several minutes. He heard the lines sung to him on the inside, and he copied them down one by one, a process he’s watch me do since he was very small in the writing of poetry. Then, over the course of the next two weeks, as I put the song to the guitar, both he and I heard lines of the song sung to us on the inside, my muse giving the last 2 lines of the 3rd verse and the last 5 lines of the song, the repeats not included.
You may not grasp the significance of an 11-year-old having this kind of ability and talent, or that of his inner self speaking its truth. Heretofore he’s only written lines of poetry via the inner voice, and this is his first song. And, despite him not being able to carry a tune to save his life, it’s a song so you might listen to him this time, this video, as it seems you only really like music videos.
This minor miracle is a soul rescue. The boy was once again on the verge of tears at school, because he’s unable to keep up academically because of undiagnosed dyslexia, but at least at this school he’s not being beaten for it, as has happened in the past, trauma that surfaces very easily. His soul is not telling him he’s a victim, however. It’s letting him tell how he feels, but, it’s telling him not to run from his challenges. It’s interesting that it’s not telling him to do good in school but to shine in his room, your room in dream and vision a symbol for your own personal room in the house of humanity, your individuality, your personal consciousness, the body included, distinct from others but an integral part of the whole. We need parents, teachers, religions, organizations, big business, and governments to respect the sanctity of our room.
You might understand that the sudden attention to the song and the making of this video concentrated him on a difficult task, not to mention the awesomeness of having your inner self sing you such a song and all the faith in the divine that brings—like God really cares—drawing his attention away from his suffering and his ‘woe is me’ attitude, and it’s also helped him to cope at school, and now he’s doing a little better academically, but he wants me to home school him, something I very much want to do because it’s my job with him to teach him the craft of the poet-seer, my craft, and tell me the Tamil people and the world does not need another poet of that force and stature. Here are some recent lines of his inner poetry:
ஒலைய வெட்றது மட்டும் தான் நம்ப வேல, ஒலைய கட்டுறது கடவுலோடய வேல. [Translation: Don’t believe just the sound. Building a sound is a divine task.]
I wasn’t born to be my parent’s child. I was born to be the universe’s child. You will express trauma.
Sometimes you can bend life.
God’s gift.
He’s wearing a ghost costume and a makeshift burka as a means of protest. It’s an artistic representation of the social position of children. Their voice is not respected or even heard, and they are not looked at as real people but only as someone to indulge, protect, and care for. Adults speak for them and tell them what they should think and how they should feel. They have no right to be an individual. They must obey the adults in their life, and they must go to school. If they protest, they’re threatened with punishment. It’s as though they themself, their personhood, is a ghost because it’s not seen or recognized.
The costume is also a creative symbol of the attitude in society of restricting the images of children in the public sphere of the internet, speaking of images that are not pornographic in nature. It’s as though we’re putting burkas on them in our attitude and, increasingly, in our policies. Specifically, we are protesting YouTube recently taking down a video, “Nitish 9 to 10”, a video that features photos and videos of him around the house and outside. In some of the indoor shots he’s in his underwear. There are no nude shots, no shots to suggest anything sexual. No strike was given for the video. As time goes on, YouTube is restricting content more and more, and what was okay before suddenly isn’t now. We would like YouTube to reinstate the video or at least give it back, as we don’t have a copy of it, and it’s an important record of his childhood.
I can’t get drunk.
Lonely can.
I can’t do anything but sit here and cry.
I’m devastated.
Help me please.
You’ve got response.
Listen to me Mugu.
The Mother’s your electricity,
And she’s right there with you.
Hold her hand.
Just try.
I’m on your side.
It’s my job to get you outta there.
I need you to trust me Mugu.
Go ahead and move around.
It’s living space.
I don’t know where you’ll find other people but they’re there.
You’re in Nature.
It’s just spilled over into death.
No, you didn’t die before your time.
You’re in the appointment with death.
It’s time for you to move on.
I’m here to help you.
Just keep going.
Feel my breath upon your shoulder.
Let’s get you outta there.
Don’t falter.
Your attitude determines your state.
Don’t call things with your mind.
Bad things will come.
They manifest early there.
Think as high as you can
and keep going.
Lessen your state,
the heaviness of it,
the pain.
Just reach out your hand
and hold the Mother’s.
Hold it tightly.
She’s there.
I put your will in her,
and I’m here too.
I’m not leavin’
until you’re safe.
I’m really here.
Don’t doubt that.
The thoughts you are getting are from me.
I’m pressing in on your thoughts.
I hear you suffer,
and I’m here to help.
I love you Mugu,
and I have the knowledge and the power
to put you on my shoulders
and get you outta there.
Come, let’s go.
Let’s get you a horse.
That’s a moment Lisa.
Call her name.
It will take some time but she will come.
She’s ready for you.
She’s learned so much since her death.
Look for her now.
That Rottweiler will find you.
Just call her name.
Can you do that?
That’s a good purpose.
It will make you shine.
It will ground you,
and you’re well on your way to better.
Now go.
There you are mountain
In just a few steps.
Not protected
suffering so.
Come out of your grief
before the monsters come.
You will call them with your grief.
Lift your head up.
Shake it off
and start your journey.
This is happening to you now.
There are brighter days ahead,
but you have to will them.
Things manifest there,
like I said,
directly from your thoughts.
You’re not on Earth anymore.
You’re in some in-between place,
and it’s time to get movin’.
Let’s go.
Did he mess up?
Wants to Asiya.
He wants to break that guy’s neck.
Held obstacles,
and how could you not want revenge
murdered by someone.
Two live buttons:
Lisa and the Mother.
Mugu, 24, my adopted son (unofficially), was killed around 3 in the morning August 14th. He was murdered, stabbed in the heart with a knife, and there were multiple stabs wounds. He was trying to help in a domestic dispute, protecting the woman, and the man killed him. It was really a revenge killing, as Mugu had married the girl Asiya had wanted to marry, some three years ago. He had threatened to kill Mugu many times. I’m sorry to say that Asiya is also my adopted son. He’s now in jail. It’s more ironic than that. When Asiya was seven, his father murdered his mother and spent several years in prison. We unofficially adopted him when he was 10, as his family was going to send him to a hostel for the mentally ill, as he hardly spoke. That changed when he came to live with us, and he became a normal, sweet kid. It was a late puberty that saw the violence rise, and we didn’t even know it was there, but he still got all the way to his third year in art college before it defeated him. It happened that he threatened to hit a professor and was kicked out. He went downhill from there, all the way to murdering his brother. They grew up together, their latter childhood years at least. It’s all such a tragedy.
The poem above is a representation of a real conversation I had with Mugu on the other side, me in my bed in trance picking up on his thoughts, my muse putting them in its words, and me sending him the thoughts the of the poem. They probably came into his mind in Tamil and disguised as his own thoughts, but different ones than the ones that he was having, and there would be something about them that would make him question if there were not from me, or at least not his own, someone trying to help. In his abject despair, it would be hard for him to believe that. I will keep trying. The poem resulted from me sitting next to his body for about an hour, clearing my mind and letting him in. Earlier, a couple of hours after his death, right at the beginning of dawn, I had a very quick vision of him sitting in some small space, hidden from the large warehouse-like room it was a part of, with his knees drawn up to his chest, his face down on his knees. He was in shock. I only had time to say, “There you are!” before the dream vision ended.
I can only tell you that it doesn’t matter what you believe, when we die only our body does, and we pass into the city of the dead. Especially right after death, before and during the funeral, as was the case here, the veil is the thinnest between the living and the dead, but, as time passes, the dead ‘see’ here less and less. I am sorry to tell you there are no instructions when we die, no guidebook, and if you have no real faith in the divine or a divine, or in a larger reality, you’re just lost for some time, unable to see the help ready at hand because you don’t believe it’s there. Eventually, you get your feet under you again so to speak, and rise towards paradise, soul home, and another life, but you have to admit the spiritual and soul reality.
One paragraph can’t possibly account for the variety of death in human experience. And I cannot tell you if the moment of death is a beatific experience for all or most, a joyfully going into a bright light or what have you. I’m speaking in this post of the arrival on the death plane, where you end up after dying. Of course a violent death, especially being murdered suddenly, would put you in a darker place, at least initially. It might take some time for you to go to where your development would put you, speaking in terms of soul development, but you’d go there. Mugu wasn’t a person of either soul development or faith I should add, but he wasn’t a degenerate by any means. He had a good heart and an innocence about him. He didn’t deserve to die. It bears mentioning that it doesn’t so much matter what your outer or surface person believes or has faith in, in regards to a higher power, but what your inner being does. It’s much vaster and is what we are when we dream, and if you do a lot of experimentation with lucid dreaming, you discover there is a difference between the inner and outer being, and it’s the inner being that determines the outer and not the other way around. With those of us largely unconscious of our inner being, things take longer to manifest into the outer, any faith in a higher power the inner might have for example, which would come into play upon death, since you are on the inner plane and hence are your inner self. So you might think you’re an atheist or agnostic, but, upon dying, you find out you really aren’t, and hence you’re not as lost.
Is that the dynamic?
We choir now.
He’s so little he expands your room.
Settled in myself to eat,
that’s the flavor of sadhana,
and we enhance.
It’s an inner journey.
We go for it.
It’s an inner cleaving.
We humble ourselves and do it.
It rebounds.
It grabs yah.
It’s an opening
you do when you’re hungry.
You’re hungry for God’s touch. [“Open to God’s touch” heard during darshan in the Mother’s room, and then the muse changed it as I walked down the stairs so it fit this poem that was coming as I waited for the room darshan and went through the line in and out of her room, the most of this verse, from the eat line, coming in that quiet activity on her death day]
This is the lifeline.
This is sustenance.
Try to prevent a fracture in sadhana,
a more sustained doing might do so.
I’m sure I belong there.
You’re here.
I don’t think we take the vital out of our room.
The right vital comes out.
The mystic of the flute lives on
on ocean’s rainbow.
[vision of an Indian-style key, the long variety, on the step of a concrete, light blue flight of stairs about two thirds up]
A key,
it’s hard to report
their bouncing effect.
You throw them away.
You don’t know how to use them.
You pour beer over them,
vital indulgences.
Now one comes.
Open its window.
Be there in the sky for it
all active on time.
[four visions, two side by side then the other two the same, of strange, colorful scenes I could not make out they happened so fast]
We interrupt your dream venture
to put you in touch with yourself.
You don’t know yourself.
I think you use a sadhana watch,
and they won’t fool you.
They tell it like it is.
You’re out to lunch,
and that other one’s over there
not climbing the street right.
You need each other to focus,
a small sum of human beings,
no more than a handful.
You fit.
You share similar interests.
You live in close proximity.
You can’t digital do this
as a group
come together.
Get real with one another,
nice and kind and polite,
not tryin’ to pass up one another,
not tryin’ to be mean.
[vision of Lisa, my deceased Rottweiler, curled up against an urban wall in a dog ball but her head up and looking at me, sadly]
Titties suck my dear.
You don’t get out of them what you need.
They’re not your bread and butter.
They test and try you,
as humans do.
Romantic love is hard to motion here.
I think you’re friends,
deeply connected,
why you come together,
how you come together.
You’ll recognize this in dreams.
You move on one another
in the friendship relationship of a dream.
You’re bonded.
It’s great to be together.
This gets deeper.
You family one another.
Respect this group.
Leaving it’s a soul’s choice.
It’s not based on petty arguments.
You will go to school together
learnin’ sadhana.
All your dreams come together in the group.
Everyday you share them,
work out meaning,
time.
This grows.
You do this all the time.
The inner relationship’s happenin’.
Now you go together
to sadhana central.
You want to do sadhana all the time.
A minute don’t go by without it.
It’s your mainstay.
It’s your life’s blood.
It’s what’s you’re doin’ in life.
You keep at it.
You keep goin’.
A small circle/handful of people [words spoken simultaneously]
do nothing else.
This is the basis of life.
It’s everywhere apparent.
It’s how you concentrate.
It’s there all the time,
always concentrating.
It gathers you.
It puts you in touch with yourself
so you see what you’re doin’.
No tellin’ where you are with yourself.
It could be at the beach.
It could be in metallurgy.
You could be climbin’ buildins,
playin’ in the street or in front of a crowd.
You’re always concentratin’
whatever you do.
The mind’s the game.
Now what does that what you see in your mind carry,
a present moment swirl?
You do there
concentrate.
Where do you put the bubble?
On higher than yourself.
You’re tryin’ to reach divine.
It’s the major of your focus,
connection,
contact.
You know the divine’s right there in front of you.
Keep the world relatin’ in that key,
and everything you do will be fine.
That’s the secret of sadhana.
I’m just ruined today.
Nobody knows me under.
I deal out cards
of bright shiny poems.
It’s just a reader’s poem with no readers.
Bad material I guess,
or awful writing.
My room is a way station and a promise.
I’ll hit the right note one day.
Sadhana science,
how do I show this to you?
Where do I go to show this to you?
It’s a concentration in your head
you stay clean for.
If I told you about the troubles.
I still go to college.
I got spirits in my head and they won’t go. [heard sung by The Strumbellas, “Spirits”]
You know I’m hearin’ muse.
This is a dictated poem.
You’re all fired up.
Wanna say somethin’.
It’s about the city of concentration.
I think I’m learnin’ to keep the mind quiet
not on external things,
and that time is optimized for sadhana.
These are the thoughts think about,
and you go from there,
put your own larger list together.
What is infinity?
What’s the nature of the universe?
Does God care?
What will lift my room?
Do I get larger than time?
Can I feel the feelings of another
through brands of consciousness?
What is the thought that stops thought?
Am I showin’ you how to think?
You’re up there
where thought meets the sky,
your husband.
Do you hear that?
We treasure this present moment
our thought taking us skyward,
and we are passive to that reach.
You put the perspective on that.
To those lonesome memories,
you’re naked to the eternal now.
Feel them that way.
Now we’ll repellant.
Thought gets in the way.
It’s not what you wanna do all the time.
You want to be clear certain purpose.
That’s a way of hold your mind
no words
or images.
Smoking the cigarette of thought,
chewing it out
like a stick of gum,
these are brands you wear.
They spend and they disease.
You don’t have to think.
I’m learnin’ not to.
It’s so much clearer in there.
When I go to sleep
I’m not a crybaby.
Monster in those movies.
I handle sleep.
I’m waking up on the hub of dreams.
I try to retrieve them,
or I’m writing a poem,
and it continues.
I spend my nights this way,
in a wakeup mode going back to sleep.
I get about six hours
all told,
seven
on this night and that.
My wakeup periods are long.
Like I say I’m writing muse
as the night bells ring,
or I’m layin’ there
where quiet meets my mind,
pullin’ on the length of dream.
That’s a sadhana sleep.
It gets you in touch with the day.
That’s been the content of the night,
if you know how to read your dreams.
Turn around and face tomorrow
your dreams carry you too,
and they show you yesterday
to know what’s goin’ on.
There’s just so much to dream,
but it arms you for the day.
And now you’re ready
to step out into the world
a sadhana-go-round.
Keep it simple,
keep it clean,
your honeydew in the world.
Behaviors lead to sadhana,
or they refuse it.
You’re a sadhana keeper.
Always remember that.
It won’t go away.
Like it can never reject you.
I don’t care how reprobate you are,
sadhana’s there for you.
It will carry you through the storm.
It will clean out your act.
You’ll get better because of it.
Just keep goin’.
Let it fill your room.
Don’t shy away from it
because you think it’s judging you.
It is always there to pick up.
It understands your needs
and will help you fill them properly.
It’s the intention that counts,
the attitude.
Keeping your mind quiet on the divine,
that’s your smelling salts.
It’s how you save your life.
If you’re an ordinary sucker,
you’ll have a harder time.
You gotta get naked.
You gotta take off all those clothes,
get down to your primal need
to fill your life with God.
One episode
of you are so filled,
just one time and
take this book with you for the rest of your life,
and you will do sadhana,
can’t help but to;
it’s in your nature now.
Everybody wants to know the nature of progress.
You love people,
identify with everything.
You’re not a grouch or a scrooge.
You’re good to be with,
not demanding or mean.
You listen to people.
It’s not all about you.
I don’t think you make people feel uncomfortable,
but you do challenge them
by the obvious depth you live.
You call to people,
not with your eyes your shoes.
That means you don’t mess with them.
You tend to prefer quiet
comin’ to the head,
not hours and hours of music
or all this environmental stimuli.
You like nature,
raw and clean.
Walks accompany your day,
walks through nature
where you can find it.
An animal can climb aboard.
You’re a big bucket of love
that knows how to pour itself.
This is what we know of love:
rape and murder,
and love’s right there with yah.
No one took the sign off you need to be loved.
All this spiritual growth sees that.
You love everybody you come into contact with.
You know what you love them for:
love heals things,
makes people better.
I don’t think you can fake this very much.
Spend some time with someone and see.
Alright spiritual advanced person,
let me count your love,
not anything else.
I wanna see yah love.
I think the whole point
of our spiritual shoes,
we get to know love.
A great big sadhana bring that out.
I’m a terrible husband—
this is the spiritual call.
I think sometimes it walks on your soul.
I don’t know how to explain this to you.
You’d think all would be right with the world.
You’re torn asunder.
You’re made to do things you don’t like.
They gravity of the situation just eats you alive.
You obey the call,
like I’m doin’ now.
You picked the wrong time
to blast a hole in my shoes.
I’m a servitor of divine will.
I’m servin’ everybody not sinnin’,
and here I am expose myself
to your wrath.
You’re not a noble person.
I’ve seen what you do to people.
You don’t love them atall.
So my head’s on the chopping block
the reality poem,
and here I am
giving you my bread
for the umpteenth time.
You’d think I’d had enough by now.
Anyway here it is,
a poem where you can do yourself
and make the world ring,
even if no one hears it,
and they just think the worst of you.
They’re not snow that’s obvious.
He seems to have a sadhana
that doesn’t get any kickback in return.
He doesn’t get validated
except by his team.
He is treated like everybody’s pariah.
His sadhana circle listens to him,
and others are few and far between.
He’s a real human being.
He got okay
on the wheels/wings of his sadhana. [words spoken simultaneously]
You have it now.
Reader
this is not brag or boast about.
This is the path to divine consciousness
and younger,
and you’re gonna need a little younger.
Open it.
A lot depends on the soul change.
When you’re young,
and you soul mother
in hospital,
we’re goin’ in some shockin’ of yours.
Well he quoted us all trying to see her.
You look like you losing what did you lose?
The ability to stay awake in dream.
You can’t do that,
let’s tend silly here.
It’s not your job to fight the Minotaur.
That your job,
trigger lucidity
captain this ship.
God dog does that look handsome!
Some fancy’s got you hooked.
You’re standing on the ability
to move on dreams.
Just get out of here.
Take your consciousness
and try it out.
You can go up and in from there,
up to the higher consciousness,
in to the soul.
Try it out.
See how far you get.
Obstacles determine pathway,
and you see what’s limiting you.
You really can get there from here.
Dream is a doorway
where you get started
to open the inner consciousness,
and there your sadhana rides
in its most visible form.
You need this
to survive.
Burn out early
if this is just all in your head.
The inner consciousness will take you there
to all the meanings you have missed,
to your direction of travel,
and you’ll see the divines involved with you
and get into soul things.
It’s your guidebook.
It’s your lamp.
Your teachers talk to you through there.
It’s a daily dose of miracle,
and it moves your sadhana along
a fresh start everyday.
This is the major element most sadhanas miss,
and we’re callin’ on yours
in league with the world.
I’m sure you got questions.
Begin.
Alright Donny there’s a truth to tell.
You’re bein’ spying on inside.
The thoughts get yah.
Oh she’s memorable wearin’ them thoughts.
All these thoughts on God culminate in that one.
When the bough breaks, [heard sung, nursery rhyme]
and you enter Silent Mind.
These are the memories to feel now,
the character
of enlightenment,
regardless of your pain inside,
of the happenstance of chance,
the resistance futile.
Go for it baby.
Keep the light goin’.
Don’t go to sleep.
Don’t her give up on that sadhana.
You have a world to change.
Say the same here.
We’ve got our heads out for miracles.
That’s a world line.
Can you show this to us sweetheart?
I’ll be back in about five minutes.
I’ve got tools for you.
I’m gonna use them first,
grow up Nitish.
It’s the army in the game,
and I’m a former Green Beret sergeant to show them to yah.
Not so hard on the kid,
but he’s gonna lesson.
There’s just too much soft flesh there
video game mode.
Cheerio.
This blog is not just to put my stuff on.
My blog is clear your highway.
Stop defending yourself.
What?
Skin spots are really easy to spot.
You have to come over here
so I can help you.
One by one they ran away from my house.
Can’t figure out.
I had given you really good soul stuff.
Her whole house was zoom zoom zoom,
and you’ve got a literature there tomorrow
to bring to temple.
Come in.
You give healing meat its substance.
You’re way out there,
right in the slot of truth.
I don’t think anyone understands this.
You’re a miracle:
nobody’s touched you;
all the help you get.
You really show people somethin’.
Most people don’t know it’s there.
They’re too based in ordinary.
Okay we climb mountains,
keep goin’,
just press on.
We’re goin’ somewhere.
I hoped you a-l-w-a-y-s thought me u-g-l-y,
you thought me friend. [this and above line heard sung in the voice of Don Williams to tune of "You're My Best Friend"]
Our best teacher,
we’re talkin’ soul.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Think Oil.
You hear soldier.
Oh man you don’t stink.
You’re chasin’ a good one.
Okay you got the preamble.
I would like soul need determine time.
I want to talk on the level of soul.
Where do we bring this out?
Is it evident anywhere?
How do we talk about soul?
Do we meet it with the divine?
Where’s it goin’?
Where’s it come from?
How long it’s been?
Does it explain us?
What is about soul that makes its process?
Does it rule time?
Where can it be found?
Is it perfect?
Can we touch it?
How does it find us?
Is that all there is?
How do you add it to the program?
Can we say it’s substance?
How big is it?
Does it search us?
What are its parameters?
Can we get at it?
Is it Black,
or would all colors fit its lifestyle?
Is it here among us?
When does it die?
Is it our only project?
How did it get here?
How do we communicate with it?
Does it know us
as the thing that does?
Is it our true nature?
Is this soul a concept or a divine?
And we go round and round.
The soul asks more questions than it answers,
but we can look at it.
Can you?
It’s here.
I think it’s from another planet.
It’s put us on.
That planet’s another sphere,
the reality behind reality.
We are its goalkeepers.
We fumble ourselves all the time.
We don’t know how to do it,
take soul and measure up.
It’s the substantial reality behind us.
It’s put itself here.
I think that’s phenomenal existence.
The soul is a dome
phenomenal existence fits inside.
It was here first.
I don’t think we cant touch it with our hands.
It’s not the reality we see.
It’s got our backing.
Where do individual souls fall in?
Let’s say they’re here.
This is not pepper spray.
You can help put ‘im on
that things might get hurt.
This is the ballpark.
Hello soul—
this is an individual flavor of existence.
It’s got cans on it.
They go through time.
That’s the flavors it carries around.
It’s expressing your life.
See the flavors?
All these tunes
express our life to us.
So many layers to the soul.
It’s a great big getaway.
There’s nothin’ else to it;
it’s the ground of its own being.
It represents us in time,
and we are representative figures
of this thing called soul.
We express it everyday,
and our body is its leeway.
A deformity,
an ugliness,
awful, isn’t it?
You’ve needed that to get along.
If you look at the world as a container,
that doesn’t fit.
All things are expressive of soul,
even the ugliness.
The world touches you there
like it’s probing you.
Awful, isn’ it?
Keep going.
This expresses you,
the dynamics of this life.
You’re carrying that with you
for an example set.
You have to learn from this example.
It’s so pressing,
and it’s so physical.
I think everybody knows I love little boys.
How ugly is that?
I am one case where the focus
bounced off the movie.
Sure enough he was.
I came to souls in the room.
They were everywhere.
Try fucking a soul.
They don’t want you to do that.
You don’t abuse a soul.
You just don’t.
It’s the basis of reality.
It’s got bigger than life.
There’s no abuse possible.
Are you expressing soul when you abuse somebody?
You’ve stopped doing it
a soul becomes visible.
We are all relating souls.
They transcend time.
You cannot harm them.
Violation is impossible.
Life is a field for the soul to work out deities.
The human soul is not divine.
It’s something more fundamental.
It’s the substance of deity.
We don’t hinder it
as it brings deity to the human room.
It’s expressive of deity.
It helps us put that on.
That’s our purpose here.
Can you see the soul bringing up life?
This is the arisal of everything.
The substance of soul has a field to play.
It’s putting on itself
in ever increasing rooms.
I don’t think you can touch bottom
of the soul’s play.
Can you imagine infinities within infinities within infinities?
And here we are in our room.
So much accompanies us,
so much to do.
Where do we go with this?
Towards the substance of soul.
We layer ourselves.
What has made it to the surface
is a little play in time,
this little portion of us
we so mistakenly confuse with us.
It has all of us behind.
My God the soul,
it’s there in the room
the container of existence.
Jerrycans of abuse,
I was the orphanage.
That’s our predicament here.
We’re bastard children
a mommy and a daddy have left behind.
We can’t see our divine parents.
Divine origins allude us.
We only know we’re here
getting spanked by time,
clusterfucked.
We don’t know how to stop abusing one another.
We just don’t know how to help one another.
This is a horrible place.
It’s a prison house.
It just sucks us,
and time’s got its finger up our ass.
Dry, lifeless orgasms
is where life meets us.
We are probed.
I say again we are probed.
Our greatest joy can turn to pain
in the happenstance of death
everywhere surprises us.
We are dangerous keepers.
We can’t trust anyone.
Real amateurish
your whole monstrous tirade.
No, and I like it,
but I’m waking up.
The policy of monsters
we are bring to ourselves.
Are you really waking up?
Jeremiah 19:9 the most monstrous of all.
Do you know what?
The city didn’t rush in to defend you.
I’m curios to know why it didn’t.
You’re a monster.
They are making names
to make sense of their city.
It’s purple passion
not heart attack.
I had a hate here with wine.
This is the poison we all drink,
to be to ourselves our city is good.
Now are you ready for Christmas?
And here comes the soul.
That’s what keeps us together,
keeps us from falling apart.
It’s music you hear on the radio
when the world had just caved in,
and you know that song's talking to you
everything’s gonna be okay.
It’s that sudden smile you get
from some perfect stranger,
and it’s like a kiss from Heaven
because the rain has come.
It’s your mommy’s warm hands
washing your tender parts
not wanting anything for herself,
and you are seven or eight.
It’s an ice cream truck
comin’ round the corner,
and you have just enough for a cone.
It’s the great big beautiful sun
shining down on you
like you mean somethin’.
It’s the breeze
wiping the sweat off your face,
and you have just run.
It’s the lovely afternoon
your family sang,
and you will never forget those moments.
It’s your father’s satisfied hands,
and you’re his little boy in them
wanting so to be like papa.
I’ve embroidered soul
where life keeps you,
and it’s good.
This is the backup plan.
This is our special moment.
This can ride the day
if we lean forward
and let the soul lead.
It’s all about soul,
the house of life.
I’m afraid
the depths you have to go to find that
are deeper than the world.
You hear that
these are possible inner journeys.
You go inside,
consciously, thoroughly,
until you reach soul.
Did you know you can find it?
A conscious arm
you fall into it.
I think unconsciously we arrive there often,
else we would die I’m afraid
cut off from soul.
We have to come up for air.
This world is a heavy dress.
We take it off
in moments sublime of dreamless sleep.
I bet you didn’t know that noon.
In raw material sleep
we can find the drop off point of matter
and soul dream
larger than time.
We have journeyed to the soul.
It’s not a substance material make.
It’s the first substance of Spirit,
and it’s got no bookends to it.
A receptacle of our Spirit open and true,
that’s the phenomenon of soul.
This is the causeway.
This brings us to Ourself.
This brings us to the divine meeting in the room.
May come some horses
with some contrary will.
Yeah exactly.
What is adequate?
Is that adequate
in the fatal moment,
in the fatal heartbeat here?
Soul expressive of deity,
that’s meaning
that has us all by the horns.
Cans.
Go ahead drive her,
drive her over.
Pay attention to people.
You want a soul
happen so matter of fact.
Now let’s come back.
We have to put on soul.
If you sat regular times…
Bruno!
You always have to watch out for Bruno.
He’ll take your underwear off.
You have to do a preacher’s build.
You check in
and withdraw.
You look out,
and the watch ends
on visible things.
You have to come together on soul.
You have to see beyond life.
There,
it has your hand.
Let it lead you now.
You have to get somewhere in life.
The soul is your regard.
It will take you to deity.
It will remove all obstacles.
It’s your great ship.
It’s the navigator.
It comes to you in dreams
and exercises the world
tonight,
and you can see things clearly.
We help it along
by being ourselves.
That’s Alpha Zero,
enlightenment stark.
This is its great evolution path,
and we are fingers of its evolution.
We do not abandon us,
and we help each other clearly
when we come together on soul.
There’s where the abuse stops.
There’s where we know our promise,
for it is the soul that leads us.
The soul we are,
the substance of ourselves
leading ourselves.
I’ve called on you tonight
to be the witness of soul.
It is bigger than leeway.
It is so much bigger than time.
It’s us in the ground of us.
No gap, no divide,
prevents it from helping us.
It’s here.
It is only blindness separates us from it,
and check it out in a poem.
You know I’ve opened your eyes.
Should end right there,
I’ve told you violence.
I just turned and turned around and saw the soul.
an illustration by Margaret C. Cook for a 1913 addition of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass
A poem by Donny Lee Duke
He did.
He figured it out.
You haven’t seen it.
Oh my God no one has even read it.
What is your name?
A holistic reader.
There’s a lot of censorship
of the ideas that make the world.
The world ran out of culture.
It couldn’t see itself.
It didn’t care.
It couldn’t come up with itself.
It just stayed where it was.
It didn’t know where it was.
It had no means for improvement.
It was small and intimate.
It was huge and dim.
It didn’t know where to begin.
It’s stomped on itself.
It raced ahead.
It lagged behind.
It wore horns no one could grasp.
We sit here and stare at it today,
just confused by what we see.
This was self-taught,
how we reach out and touch the world.
It didn’t come in the papers.
It wasn’t on the Internet.
No course in university taught it.
No book could grasp the whole.
It wasn’t in speech.
You couldn’t find it anywhere.
Everybody was afraid of it.
They thought it would bite them.
How to reach out and touch the whole
came from inner experience.
It was deeper than the world.
It really tested your boundaries,
and you had no choice but to surrender to its process.
It had your very being at heart.
It schooled you,
showed the inside of everything.
You never saw it completely.
You just handled it with care.
It would eat you alive
if you affronted its mission.
You understood it was a Larger you.
You saw it dream
a nation of particulars.
It gave you vision,
spoke to you with the inner voice.
You held it close to you
and processed its thought
into the unknown.
Great the days lay
the seat-point of vision.
You just studied reality
absolved in yourself.
You had no way to communicate this to men,
wherever you came from.
No poem would read it,
no prose spell it out.
The visual arts could not express it,
no drama act it out,
no dance routine show it,
even in its living room.
It was beyond itself.
If you got life that need a poet,
I’m your subject right here.
Now go floss
with the rest of that form.
You’ve left something incomplete.
If I just listen,
I’d find it out numbers me.
I’ve encountered a different verse.
Its form is amplified by common speech.
There is the line.
Give me back my lunch;
I can do nothing with the way it works.
See there
you’ve been taken in.
Now tell me I’m a Great Lake I’m ready to play.
Now tell me I was murdered.
You know I just heard the news and wrote it down.
I’m a five star hotel,
and I’ve got the muse
in poetry form.
I mean inner voices speak.
It’s the divine muse of poetry.
How raw and off the cuff.
It has every name involved.
It won’t leave you alone.
Now say I’m silly
understanding prose.
All is said
to top off the mountain,
to be a governor unto itself,
to let you fly in the word.
How could that be?
I don’t think I got all freaked out about it
as grey mountain.
The poetry of redemption lands here,
the upper money.
I will just let you fuck me,
give in.
I’m about to be homeless.
That death I was telling you about,
they take my sky away from me.
The ground of silence eats me up.
I become a Silent Mind.
Realization proves my calling.
There’s nothing else
to realize:
we’re in love
with the whole thing,
each business and everybody.
We grok this.
It’s standin’ on your shoe.
Great the papers play
in the immediate seat of your room.
Welcome to the lost word.
That’s the sound of silence,
a preface to Enlightenment.
A shortcut,
I can write it down.
What else
can we do?
Headphones surround—
you’re hearin’ the interior music.
You’ve opened up that wide.
Wrap up some milk
left you some poetry.
This is your ticket.
For you it would be nice
right here:
the grinding of the dog.
I’m a farmer.
This is my business.
I keep business spoken.
Pinecones have left to a civilization.
What are you guys?
TikTok
describin’ the universe,
time of missed a keyframe
and causality.
Whether you want to or not,
the movie echo system.
You said what?
Reality in this page.
I’m gonna listen to yah.
Good mornin’.
I’ll loosen poetry I’ll listen.
Find that way offshore.
But Enlightenment seeks.
Ask her about the whole thing.
Did you tell ‘im you’ll take the horses,
make that your team?
Not that saying but keep
outside science,
and never cry wolf.
Read my full exposed.
My hands are tied.
Make me feel better.
Make me feel so much better.
We’re in this cut;
at least our voices aren’t.
He actually science.
Cosmopolitan
I understood it,
no doubt.
He’s right in front of me.
I could sing up here for hours.
I have everything I need to start the revolution.
I’m a purpose.
I want a bigger world.
You can keep me out as long as you can.
I’m not gonna die.
I’m gonna change consciousness.
Look me over.
I’m real.
I am so very real.
You can’t get around me.
It’s reality I’m showin’ you,
all holistically laid out.
You can dance all you want.
Reality’s not goin’ anywhere.
It’s on the way to you,
even if you don’t want it.
Reality’s comin’ for you.
Hold your head up high and embrace it.
A poem with your name on it Marginalian.
Poetry works
I can’t ignore.
She’s busy,
clean up what happened:
showed herself a calloused human being,
with no feelings at all
for the man everybody hates.
There is no Whole behind the whole—
she shows you what that does to you
when you believe that.
You don’t have to love everybody,
and you can pick and choose.
You don’t even have to treat them human.
Your ethics just come from ground zero,
and you make ‘em up on the spot.
Okay Riviera,
let’s see you explore your consciousness.
Can you do that?
Wow, have you blocked things.
You will not be happy with yourself
on the other side.
Maria Popova,
live up to your ideals,
and that intelligence of yours,
taking it
to some encounter on the inside
you see the whole,
you see it all means somethin’.
Put your finger on it,
and let us hear your own source material.
Has the jacket,
a lonely packet,
of quoting the right material.
That’s starfish.
It says more than what you want it to say.
Okay I’m outta here.
I have to let you everything,
be a work in progress
understand human.
I’m reminding myself
of what I’ve been taught.
You can have this.
It’s a seer’s wisdom.
Handle it with care.
They were talking about
y’all are choosing the apartment
you’re gonna let this seer in.
I’ve reached out to so many people
over the years.
A big no they wouldn’t even tell me,
usually.
They just read me and tossed me aside.
Put up his banner,
that’s where we go.
Who stole the cones?
You know it’s not coming.
You’re here for the Rachel Carson.
Write someone back.
You never had more powerful that was the end of the game.
a typical image found on channeling sites, source unknown
A poem by Donny Lee Duke
But in your routine,
what is the foundation of the whole thing?
It’s that the technology?
Can you point to God?
What’s happenin’
in your soul’s process with God?
Can you get your soul to speak?
Why always this:
you channel beings
of a particular order?
Can you grasp the inner voice,
hear that on the inside that your record?
Definitely more personal,
it’s got you at heart,
a wide variety of vision.
You’re hearin’ it now.
Now let me speak some
about capital.
You are not Nathaniel Hawthorne.
I hear no substance in your words.
Do you know the power of divine revelation?
It knocks you off your feet,
shakes you up,
makes you confront yourself,
and is really, really, poetic, you know?
No convulsions needed.
We can actually open a gateway
in people’s lives
to hope and possibility.
Wounded by something.
Now let’s go to the doctor,
and the young body
can open now.
Closed it,
closed it earlier,
channeling the soda pop.
I’m sorry,
that is not your next of kin.
I wouldn’t even call it divine.
I’m not gonna be used
by things that destroy
you just tell yourself.
Go get the basics
a little deep man:
we’ve whooped it up on stage.
The eve of creation—
you’ve hit the run around
with a big referral
to some starfish.
It’s got ears,
your soul buddy.
You have to ask it for help
fervently,
ardently.
Your soul rises to the surface
over many lifetimes.
I think you are where it speaks.
I offer you solace
in the form of understanding.
Come with me.
Stupid me,
I am not a perfected master,
not in Realization yet.
I’m sorry I sound so heavy,
so blow your tops off,
so glory in the hole.
I get in trouble
tryin’ to help.
People spit on me
the big bad outcast.
Oh have I sinned,
and so no one lets me speak.
Will you?
I wrote this poem, or my muse did rather, which also serves to introduce the poem I’m currently disseminating, “Tonight on Television”, to a person who channels, Asil Toksal, after watching a video on YouTube where he channels, or says he’s channeling, the archangel Ariel. The video here. I watched the whole video and left this poem both as a comment after it and in an email sent to his site.
Harm's End 