Everyone feels themselves the maker of things. Alone in our body’s cells, we do a branded work. We have the secret knowledge inside, and we know the meanings of things. We just can’t express itself to men. We live in our longings a perpetual keeper unable to handle stuff, but ours is the mooring to the base of life. We know no one above us in this, and even ones that we worship, they’ve just validated ourselves. We can keep them. No one else can.
I am the secret front of time. The world calls my name human. I am a draft everyone wears in their rise to fame. I can’t control fate, and the talent show, I can’t grate my time against it, but I am bigger than lost rooms, or, if I am famous, for your information, I’ve been put there by all eyes on me, and the knife I am to everyone I don’t have to please, it’s sought within, and I believe mine eyes hold all true. I’m good to everyone even if I’m not good to some. I am the eyes of life and time in my living room.
Surprise, surprise, surprise, you are not the march of the universe, or anything tall and big. You are a worm’s crawl to our Sublime, and you would spit on the Sublime now, if you saw it. You would not hold it right. You would not even know it’s there in your tangible real.
I fight this battle every day, sometimes on a horse, sometimes in the slime of morose doubt. I can count my sins all day long. I can sit and bash myself upon the head for being such an eager worm. Here’s the kitten: I sit in the arms of the divine all day. My doubt is not to its existence. I have knowledge firmly there. I see the Larger like I take breaths, but is this a whirlpool, a jolly roger’s madness ride, that has no issue for a starstruck human being?
I see the Larger like I count my face, and it’s suspicious to me. It doesn’t count humans. Oh my goodness the proxies’ wear. Everything’s for the larger good, the whole. Individuals get trampled in the stampede, and we have to stand this, because it’s all a dream, even our suffering, and we are nothing more than sinless souls putting on masks of flesh for lifetime wears. The flesh doesn’t count. The soul does.
Great Department Green, is my soul in my beating heart, the exclamation point of tears in my eyes I fight back left and right? How heavy is this pain a moral wear, how real, fresh, and alive, and yet it’s cut asunder by ideas, by momentary experiences I’ve won and lost, by a look there a breath there on God’s heights, like you throw bones to dogs?
Feel me I’m real, the character, the mask, You’ve donned. I cannot last like this, a plaything upon Your pittance. I need Your honest answer to my living pain, or crush me now and don’t look down at me again (uh-gayn). The pittance, the role and show, how do we handle it?
Time is larger than our showroom. More power to yah God. What’s man doing there with his head blown off? It inspired an amazing journey. It manufactured an attempt to find another rule than suffering, point out joy as my hunting rifle. It’s my must now. It’s where I lay my head, oh time machine, I go. It’s important that’s a carpet, not a bed of nails.
Do you hear me breathe? I’m countin’ the breaths of all of us, and I am sin, hold me down?
This poem began where Death went off his office, and it revealed. It’s beginning to baby us, political allies. About exit, what does it reveal today? We’re not safe in our own shoes. Death is the beginning of misery.
I kill myself from the beginning I bet. It’s a written, a written piece of paper. Now I left coins of me, shekels, splashes of time, in your jukebox. They’re horrible. It didn’t work. I could not write my name in the sky.
Just how do you do? I’m small pittens for small fare, smaller than that. I just do your head in, don’t I? Come talk to me I’m worth? And you don’t. [The sound of laughter here] You’re the wrong people. You’re not wearin’ soul shoes.
This is message for the times today. We did love. We’ve lost some trying to get it in there now. What in the hell’s a matter? It’s the go car looking for enlightenment brown. Make alright boy that’s it cut the track. Just need to think your love can speak. [sing line] Freedom caring, just need to think. Some of it has been miracles in the room. [sing line] One at a shot have a world education. [sing line] He’s called a creature of a dying world job, little until tea tomorrow. You’re getting good at it. Leadership is worship. Bake down, ask about your soul technology. Become immortal.
Before my life was over, I want to find what my life was in. I’m normally ask that, if I haven’t given up on life. Would you lay with me [sing line to tune of song of that name] all over this answer? It’s not a field of stone. It holds us all in tight keeping, but it’s not the angel in the room. This is pre-God ladies and gentlemen. Can you hacksaw that?
I’m getting deep into society’s ways. I’ve just found Spirit, the first covering of the Unknown. It’s how we have being. It’s where we come from. A great big Spirit wears everything. It fashions God. We’re getting into preexistence ladies and gentlemen, when only the Formless arise. Can you imagine nothing as its sailboat?
What’s the rule of this ship? Don’t fashion nothing. Expand into global waters. Make existence be to pronounce Itself. Spirit is the first form it wear, that makes for us souls. It’s aligned with God, but it’s not God. It’s the soul, the basic who we are.
You can touch that ship in intimate contact, feel it ride the wherewithal of your day. It can take over and rubs your belly with sweetness, and you are charged for awhile with everything’s honey. You see the soul in things.
How can you do this in a concentration camp, in the worst hell on earth? That’s the soul of the ages in bare bones reality giving you eyes to see. Overcoming physical pain is one thing. Watching cruelty mark the Earth, devour babies, and we’ve gotten down to the purpose of soul: don’t let it in, the despair.
The soul can get you out of this, even in the midst of it's bear. We are a sublime soul range, God gave us Savitri reads, and this is down on earth. We tarry there. The soul is completely out of this picture, the whole fortnight of evil takes our ship. The soul is not responsible for sin. It loads up our day with the honor we give one another for being the Itself to Itself, and we feel sweetness everywhere and principles of joy.
This can break in on us in the hell we have made of our lives, or what others have made us suffer. It can even break the dull routine of the days. It can be in ordinary and lift on you extraordinary in every mode you wear. There’s no end to the soul’s keeping. It’s the basic ground of everything. It’s goodness rides the high seas. It has so much feeling for everyone. A plant is to it existence and little dogs so lovingly looked upon. It can hold matter in its hand, and you don’t want to bruise that ship either. You’re careful with everything. You have respect for the Earth. You are never out of love, even when you see society’s nigger, the people we are allowed to hate.
I can’t fashion this for you. The soul is a mystery you know, but I can tell you how to do it, reach for soul, let it in. You grasp it all the time in bridges you wear. It’s the most common thing in life, coming upon your feelings, and you feel so alive with everything, and you want no harm done to the aliveness in front of you. You feel the pain of the Earth, the sorrow, disguised as your own or your close neighbor’s, and you grasp your loved ones to yourself and be good to them. You feel ranges of Spirit right there in your baked pie.
A moment of eternity has looked in on you, and you feel sublime with the Earth. You hold them with your children, these feelings, or your best friend’s face, and you love to pet your dog with them like you’re petting moon time. You want to protect everything don’t you? And you put down your enmity for a minute.
Can we range there, take those feelings to the sky? We can sure get along there, if we try. There’s more to soul science you know, but I’m trying to get you started on thin ice. We don’t know how to handle the world. It ruins our day, even when we’re drinkin’ with it, but we are not left out of soul. It envelopes everything, and when existence can be anything, the soul is there first a witness, then a power to bring the soul round to things, and you just have to grasp it in what I’m saying now.
Is everything okay? Is everything alright? I wear society like a sleeve, and they do not worth me in it, not even my own kin. I am left apart by everybody. Few call my name. I’m treated well by Douglas and a few others. My child cannot call my name, and though he is living I cannot see him. I live in isolation, bearing pain. I look at the specter of death. I’m in danger of society’s wrath. It sneezes on me.
Have you ever seen the sun and the mysteries of existence? I’ve pulled them out of my pocket. I’m a crash course in reality. I write this to you now in poetry that has never been seen before, and I’m a black bag. Society won’t read me. It spits my name out, never calls it. I want you to recognize this pavilion. I want my boy back and safe, and I want all of you to be safe.
How can one man’s love change the world? If it opens up the eyes of God it can. It can bring us to soul. I rabbit there and show you soul moments, a day or an hour, I can see because I wear. It’s close to enlightenment’s springs, and I refuse this honesty just as much, feeling my pain, my isolation and the loss of my boy, who tells me he’s walking in a void, in secret messages, and he’s lost on himself no light he can see.
I bear these days not as a guerrilla. I return again and again to the house of soul, what I’m lifting up for you to see in a certain light that give us release from pain, and I love you there, even though you give me the cold shoulder, again.
Rushing through a path of ambulance, I participate. I don’t promote my own story. I hand it to you because it’s how I found out things. I’d rather not tell it as honestly as I do. This does not do me good. It gets me ignored, not a poet in good standing, and no one will promote my work, except a fellow poet in Israel I can count on to call my name.
Just at the home of mankind, I’ll have the day at some point, and I’m in your picture of what everything means. For now I want to pass ships. I’m on a mission to get past my own boat. Come get me please. You’ll like what you see.
The Void fashions thought, gives it the clothes you wear. We bury the world there. We’re all over each other in drowning reality, and each one of us wears woe is me clothes tryin’ to describe our reality to another, even if we don’t feel that way. It’s the default among us. Just read some poetry and see. It won’t lift you to the skies, poetry club after poetry club. Do you know how bottomless this is?
I don’t know where to end this. By Dylan’s side. I don’t think he’s learned to be sad yet as his disposition. He’s two, and I wear him on my sleeves today his minder, really protecting his freedom, no anger, no swats, and no is not a word I cram down his throat. I like his natural freedom and his natural state of joy.
Where does it come from? I can sit in the same tub and not be happy. He’s an expert at this. He knows where the joy is, the merger inside of him with his environment. I don’t think we’ve reached a separate Dylan yet all in his own clothes. The joy is phenomenal. He just screamed and looked at me, and I gave a pirate’s laugh. I like the sound of joy.
His frank littleness operates on my moods, and I can taste his taste with the world. You have to hold on there’s stickers there. The world will grab you, and all falls down. You have to be careful there, and everything has eyes you know, even the water bucket. How amazing this is. I coo and talk to those eyes a speech pre-language wears. Identified with Dylan with a poet’s laugh, I’m in his jolly roger don’t you see?
Now what happens when we’re three? Identity with the world please, it no longer storms our room. I could be seven, and joy becomes something monumental we chase the dogs with. It’s not homegrown anymore. It’s not our natural state. We’ve put on man.
I’m on poet’s wings, and I’m identified with what’s in front of me. You can’t do this writing about your make up. It’s how we discover the world, reaching poet wings reaching the starlight, where God sees everything glow. It put us together in ancient times, grabbed civilization out from the paws of nature, a poet’s look guide, and we’re born you and me so much’d civilized clothes, and a poet born language don’t you know. It came from the skies added to our feet down below.
Where’s all this goin’? And we write it down in speech, great big letters of world maker’s art that came in vision or dream, and we fountain a language with it. A poet saw that. I’m not here to hear you scream, and kill all these damn flies. That’s the muscle we wear. The poet has the architect of civilization we grasp here. You don’t know from on high. You don’t know these robes. I’m speechless. Yeah, you would be. Well I be damned.
The chaos of the toddler, it writes your poem. They don’t know dirty, and they have no sense of mistake. They don’t know danger. A grandpa’s life is dangerous, and he gave that toddler reach. It’s not playin’ with the same cars of a society toolkit. They meditate together on meaning. The boy feels the rush. It’s living. I can’t draw your papers from here, but I’m showin’ yah how we’re made. I can’t explain it to yah so that you wear the same cars, but I accelerate growth.
That’s not dangnabbit, or any role of violation. It’s where that guy sees the stars. Are you with me on this? For a nice mental health, where it counts, it’s in that toddler child. You don’t want to falter there. They’re bright and shiny objects from the universe, and they just love to play. They don’t need a hard time.
Just organize them the storybook of the universe, and they mean something more than I am tired, irritate me one more time and I’ll slap you, or I’m horny please me. Don’t be confused with their gatherin’. There’s a child there with their tall eyes bein’ the Earth for you, and every touch counts, and they love to be touched and cuddled. They wear your fingers for the rest of their lives, your harsh tone, your can’t take it anymore. All of humanity needs to see this.
Listen, it’s not possible today is it? This is too cutting edge. This is too model. Don’t take their joy away. Let them be rising and kind and kids by you’re conducing a sacrifice for their wellbeing. Can’t you see this Paul when you get home from work, and you’re tired, and momma there in the kitchen, that meal’s better than that child? And we can reverse the roles and do the same thing or join them. What would daycare say? Keep them busy no. Let them occupy themselves with whatever, and watch them there. We want them to organize themselves, no just obey masters and do what they’re told.
Can you see my thought’s skies? We don’t want a subservient human being. We want society to challenge the world. We want a greater world bear. We are on earth for no other thing. How could you argue with yourself? Beginning right now, make that toddler’s world better by your lovin’ hands and freeze, no shouting, no hitting, no inappropriate hands. Goo Goo and Ga Ga, they just inherited the world, and it was nice to them. Oh man see this.
Make a child’s day. Make every moment count. Can yah? Will yah? It’s growin’ up to be you. A vehicle burned by society’s ways, a damaged vessel, do you really wanna put that on that kid? Let them play in the dirt and mud. They’re not going to murder themselves, hurt society with it. Aren’t you right there to prevent mouthfuls and rocks up their nose? They’re testin’ time, where all the dirt goes.
Aren’t you glad you see that, their special put together? It makes for good kids, lettin’ them be the little animals they are when they’re two, no inhibitions, not feedbacks. They’re beautiful little tigers, and we give that little creature kindness and consideration in every mood they wear. We just don’t let them tear up the ship, or express their violence towards other people and puppy dogs, and we teach them to be kind to ourselves with the kindness we give them, and who would let a toddler hurt himself?
You gotta be swift and fast, and you’re gonna make mistakes. The little monster’ll test your patience, the little cuddly bear. You’re farmin’, know that, and you determinin’ that child’s life. A great big heavy thing in life, we shape our children by our touch and mood, and the most important time’s before three, monumental she wrote. I’m infinity’s cards, and I’ve just showed you the spasm of life, where it most counts: hey baby, oh you new thing. Can you dig it?
It’s the living fetal position for animals, the punishment chair. Stop this motion. Order the pens to our insight. I was thinking first of Dylan. I didn’t chatter my teeth there. My comfort, his parade, he got the money’s worth. I can’t spell this out for you. It’s long on time. What do we do with him, pull his pants down and shoot ‘im, arrange him in the corner, blister his butt? Let’s call him kings, and you’re his subject most of the time. Can you get that?
Wow he’s free to make decisions that don’t harm him. You’re followin’ him around a puppy dog. Did I just say something mean? It is exhausting, but you’re right there as he explores the world. Too wild to keep, my parents put a dog there, highly efficient at watching me. Outside he followed me everywhere. I brought some of the memories back. Can you believe he talked? Used all the sounds a dog makes to convey meaning. Boy get away from there. You stop that behavior at once. It was a pleading sound with authority.
Buckshot was extraordinary, a big dog from army parents, half Shepard half Collie. He came from a military base. Can you see it? We’ve been doin’ it all along in our homes and in our backyards, but we can make it an official duty of mankind, train dogs to watch kids. The little one’s too exhausting to keep up with. They need special care, and a good dog can give it.
Am I meaning here? Do you know how much this helps the child? The love of a dog opens up society to them in the ways of love, and if it’s a lone child, they pay attention to another person in their play. Let’s put a handle on their selfishness shall we? That big dog can protect itself and is a sense on the world we don’t. The consciousness shares between a dog and child, that’s the link right there, but I’m gettin’ far ahead of you. You don’t know you do this with Dog. We are more than their masters, and they are our children.
Buckshot grows. Would you believe he’d take my hand in his mouth and lead me back to the house if I passed the invisible barriers that said too far? There was a dog there on his way to human. You don’t know that’s what dogs are doing with us. In the evolution of soul they become man after climbing the latter of Dog.
What did you think they were doing with us? I put dogs in the throne room too, kids with fur and tail and adorable ears. There was this hole in evolution, and we created Dog to fill it when we were ready in soul, when we became men and women firm enough on the ground to fill it. At the role of civilization, and then came Dog.
I’ve gotten angry again, and I just shut it off and move on, apologizin’ profusely to that kid. How is this learned? The heart is open to soul. The heart is open to that kid. Profound love dwells there that can heal anything. Careful with that soul. I guess I’m a witness that you let out. I’m not an icicle. I am love everywhere found, deep feelings of release into the sincerity of the moment.
You are love there watch your nose, and you obey your nose no longer. You’re not led by the nose anywhere. You’re compelled to soul choices, complete understanding not offended by anything, and where you find love you find the wisdom to use it to correct that child, the strong love that knows its pants that can say no to things that harm and make that child know he caused it without those feelings of guilt that block remorse.
You surface the soul you know. It’s what takes over as you’re doin’ it, a sadhana out of ego. It heals. It wears a crown. It makes everything right. That’s what we’re doin’ here, being soul, a manual for the new millennia, how to be safe with our kids in diapers and into the terrible twos, and they’re comin’ unto themselves threes and fours. We are expensive with the toddler, lavish on them our heartfelt attention, and that’s the history of science that makes a better world.
We need a role model, and I’ve lifted up a poem for you that comes from higher sources, the role of a poet, a special use of language wear, and poetry that I have, I’ve returned us to our origins, where the poet revealed to us the world and gave us strong ideas how to live in it. It be compatible with what the world needs. I can’t account for its audience, but here take another poem.
We walked out a miracle. We walked out back. Did yah listen? The applications are enormous. I am in any thought you use to harbor children. A family of pioneers asks a lot about a new generation. Well I’ve got that orbit. I’m asking me this I’m asking you: what’s conducting God in our filthy experiment? The eyes of the child.
The pictures, we’re gonna keep looking, and another FMG, it was on the film net. Would you cause me to live? I’ve gone further than I am, and I don’t feel badly about it. Broadly I read you. You know Stoppa was running. They didn’t know what they were doing. This was the parade. I’m tellin’ yah I’m sorry. I'm not fighting wars with children anymore. Can you get a load of that redemption? Be hostile where joy was, their glasses whole birthplace humanity right on time. Good afternoon.
The change in consciousness ahead, get me my improvement I’ve penned these days. Why would I be running from it? See a bullock cart, I can’t get out of this view. Got some dirt, it springs into anxiety. I put it on the lawn and deal with it. I don’t know exactly when it happened, the line of consciousness drawn. I’m a senior builder. Stopness, seriously wellbeing, birth has a lot more to do with it than nature. Is that so? I gave a poem that talks about relief. I’m not gonna pull it to my pants down. Were you like a screwdriver yet, you’re used? Can I answer that question?
It’s all a fantasy program. How are we localized here? This stays. It comes and goes in the realms of sleep. We are in a huge tin can, and escape is impossible if you follow the seams.
We don’t even know we’re in here. A big accident gluttons our text eating up forever. This is existence proper, with hot sauce. This is existence on earth, and we suffer here.
How is it done? How are we fooled so early? Not as sick as existence proper. We last a long time in our menageries. The fairy roads to existence startle all of us. It’s all a sparks’ weaving fairy dance putting circumstance in place the settled fact.
It’s a picture show to tell you the truth. Now where is that projector, and is it being filmed as we speak? Something’s funny goin’ on. Can you find existence in there? Can you even get at it?
It’s a big story-house in space that we can’t find the light of, and we are trapped in our rooms of single seeing. Better men then me have pulled these cords, but this is my poet’s worth, but these are my poet wings.
Where does it all lead to and why? Do we even find out at the end of the movie? I can take you farther than Earth in the rounds of Earth, and I can show you time in a bottle. You would not believe who we are outside where we imagine the universe. It’s the secret of the ages, and we carry its wind in our sails comin’ back to itself.
What prolongs the long game, and what makes us suffer so? Can I tell yah? I just did. The tell-tales of existence, I’m there. I’m in the picture show with you. Can you guys see that?
All since childhood I went busy with it, the message I’m supposed to give of another. It makes for short poetry. Where are my feelings for me? It’s been the subject of my lifetime. Self-centered rides there, but so does a vantage point to study life, the name of existence on my lips. I can only see me as the protagonist of this drama, only imagining what it’s like to be another. That’s not self-centered fact.
I live here: watching the world go by the center of myself. You do too, and I’ve found this out myself: our integers are the same. What makes a person a person fills both our bottles and crashes them at the same time.
The social hierarchy will not let me poet to you the discovery we are the One. I cannot wear a poet label because I have not yet been given it by the crowd, and I bleed to tell you things.
I’ve been all over this place, climbed the mountaintop, sojourned in hell. I have been on broad rivers of mankind, and I have suffocated in stinking swamps. I have entered duality to wear them both till kingdom come, and then I get saved by the bell. Reach inside me and see I’m writing the papers of existence, and I help existence be.
I’m fighting for my room. You cannot harbor the truth, the truth of anything in its bare-bones reality. They will get you for it, the powers that be. Reality is being fed to us on a silver platter with cyanide, and we all believe the lies.
I’m easy to take down. I’m the most hated scapegoat of the day, but that opens up truth in a man, having to face himself to society’s mirror, and you are sincere to the test. It can open up worlds of seeing. It can make you love humanity when your self-love has joined the same.
We stand on great big tests today that eat our lunch. Never a lie’s been told, the dinjins will tell you and mothers and fathers all over this land and governments and snake pit operators. Oh my little child you are safe in how we rule things. You must dog eat dog and get out there and compete for bread. It’s greatness of your kind. The devil dance on a great mankind, and we will go to war to prove it.
Now let me tell you somethin’. It’s all subterfuge. We are avoidin’ what makes Tommy safe, Wendy grand. We have to flower in our room to humanity my dear, find the Self in everyone, and let that be our guiding light to discovering God lookin’ at the world through our eyes in the fullness of his vision here on earth. I just told you the truth, what’s happenin’ in the evolution of time on earth, in the world play we’re all a part of. That’s the secret that all existence hides. Can’t you see it yet?
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?
I got soul, a flare, when the authorities are so big. We have dark roots. We’re not gonna terrorize anybody. This is the poem that tell you where it’s at, the soul we find in the machine. Can you stomach this long road? Reach for middle ground, and no soul will show for you. Life isn’t easy on my mark, get set, and my personal arraignment will show you the hallway and the entrance room. Exploding tigers, eh? Exploding entranceways. Exploding tests.
Your soul returns in a blissful way. [sing line] I can’t find my wife. I can’t help it. I’m just get lost in things. What’s the status on my boy? He tries to finish. One second, make me some time. I will operate on my parents. I will come right straight to you.
This is Dylan. You look like Jesus. What are you reading? I will be right there growin’ up. I will give you forms and things, all your books. No one pets me. I would love to guard against that.
The evolution of a single day, we minimize it, blocked by life’s stuff. We can’t see the carton in the room we hold evolutionary purpose. We split in two, just bang our heads against the wall, grab society by the horns and be pulled apart by it.
We are pulled apart by society, so many tin cans in the room. How do we detach from all this stuff? Bring society into the room keepin’ your knees in it, and you’re just gonna get lost in it. I have an opera beyond society, behind every little thing in the world. It’s where I eat lunch. You hear it in these stanzas.
Okay I’ve got a grow room, and the entanglements abide. You hear it every day. I’ve got a little boy named Nithish taken from me, and I complain about my poetry: reader get me more. And I’m worried about my dogs dyin’, the lack of respect I get from my landlord, and the soup I had lunch with yesterday. These are entanglements.
Auroville doesn’t need me, does it? And no one in Auroville will give me a sticker and put my name on their greeting card, at all. I remain isolated, and they publish my poem every week in their newspaper. I write poems there too. The yoga will not even give me the time of day, the yoga of human unity and life on earth growin’ oneness wings.
Okay what is soul purpose? Can an entanglement say that? I’m watchin’ evolution here. It’s sees me, but I think it’s turned the other way. I’m bummed out about my entanglement. These are vital moods the life force carries all day long. I can’t get rid of ‘em. It’s a spell from places deep.
Alright there’s a chester drawer, also from places deep. It’s the soul in the room, behind and apart from everything. Yes, yes sing to Auroville today a guiding light, write poems to the yoga, and hold that boy when I tell yah to, and let go of your status among men. I’m the soul detach worth, and I’ve got mountains of soul change ahead. You hear that music now.
It’s a blister on Easter. It’s hard to come about. It’s the soul detach on things, and you hear it now, and it feels good, doesn’t it? How do you cultivate this nigger? By puttin’ soul change ahead, recognizin’ your time of sleep guides towards that when you wake up from dream.
Don’t just stay in your room. Have you ever put your thoughts in another as they walk by? What thoughts are they havin’? And you’re tryin’ to wear their skin. You feel them there. And pick out some sore spot upon the Earth, and put your consciousness there like you can’t get bread too, and your children are dyin’, and you feel this with your tears. Can you get there?
You’re openin’ up soul in the room, and you keep doin’ it with everyone you meet, especially those close to you, and this is an inner job. They just know you’re sweet and kind and tryin’ to figure them out. You keep your hand on that lever, everybody won’t even know you’re doin’ it. You know how selfish people are. I don’t know if there are any returns on this. I haven’t gotten any yet. People don’t see it. They see themselves, and you’re givin’ them what they’re worth. That’s hard. Entanglement number four, fuck you.
Are we all here a hero’s worth? I think not. We’re just involved with ourselves, and we sum it up for loved ones, satellite I’s of our solar star. The soul change gets us to see our room differently. It’s a battleground in there to separate the wheat from the chaff, and you don’t let no one down.
You learn what’s expensive in your room and costs you your evolution, what’s expensive in there to hold you up every time. Can you see this notion? It’s a soul room, where peace on earth comes from in the larger sphere. Can you gauge this?
I’ve just given yah a formula for world change, and all you that know how, will you dance with me? It’s a formula you give your room that opens up the world to us. It doesn’t come in a tin can. Is that so hard to believe? You try to wear their skin thought today.
Open the door. You try to wear their thought today. Takin’ a bath belly up while we ride that tone, we really reach in our heads and get it done, findin’ the light in everybody and brinin’ evolution to the forefront detachin’ ourselves from all these cares gettin’ to the soul need of each one and bein’ big there. ¿Comprende?
Making’ the soul of sacrifice, can you pull a soul play in that room? It’s a shame you brought your brush, charmin’ hair Nithish. He’s not a pumpkin no more cause he’s got the credit card to bring you in lean with him, and he can’t say your name right. A child forgets his toys if they get lost, and should he perchance see you, they kid cashes in taking advantage, and you’re left swingin’ on a short rope. It’s okay he loves you. Just get away from him in thought and wrappin’ around him all the time. Let the soul take over. No problem connecting him to you there’s a soul range ahead. Capisce?
To the soul on earth need help, and you see the need, and you parachute in. I’m not tellin’ you to leave him alone. All's worth on him and he needs to see yours, before you run out of windows for him. A moment in my futile pen all's say. No one holds the true purpose of mankind. One major soul note I have given you at my own expense, and now I have to live with this. They had a nice chair there buddy. Learn to look though. Take pictures of him again it’s bright and shiny future says Earth must do.
I did yet the big big pen to help me find him. It’s just my name’s not on his notebook anymore, and what can you do with that? What’s that music? He really felt it, and he really wanted our hope back.
I’ve got a lot of folding chairs here, and they’re supposed to sit in ‘em, like in 24 hours, on a moment’s notice. I grab my dick and double click, and no one comes along (I’m murderin’ my pen), except a thoughtful read of you my good friend right now. Oh gosh gee I’m sorry, I can’t pull it out, the poem that says it all, and you do see me tryin’. You are the world to me. Oh, sing with me, sing for the year. Sing for the laughter, and sing for the tear. [sing two above lines turn of “Dream On”]
The slightest word crowd, you can really show the writing on the wall. A few minutes ago you had us to the tune of “Dream On”. If it doesn’t work out for you, dream on, but we don't doubt that boy woke up.
Another life on earth, we enter that life today. Can you believe I’m 21? I sit in bathtubs and smile, holdin’ onto speech that has not come. I’m butt naked, and no one sees me. I haven’t entered society yet. I think my penis said that.
I lift my voice and sing syllables that make sense to me, and my truck, my God my red truck, it’s bigger than life. I’m a destruction derby all day long. How do you expect chaos to get along? When I pee everybody drinks it, and I’m glad that I did.
I just shouted. Did you hear it? I can turn a principle 13. Here I am in my kingpin. Wow that’s tight. What body part did they make? I am really in the ditch with you, and it’s wonderful ain’t it?
My body is on fire with the touches of life, and I can feel my own skin. I go through sudden rages, and no one even answers me for it. You can’t say no to me. I want to do everything. I love the sudden grandpa. He doesn’t practice the word no.
You know what it’s like to run free? We will find thought soon. I’m an image in my head of pumpkins waiting for the birth of thought. That comes with language you know. My grandpa gave me a new word today, careful. I fall so many times.
Okay I’m 21 months, and I’m takin’ my time. Who wants to be thrown to the wolves? I’m just all out in front of everybody. I’m Dylan. I'm myself to please.
photo by the author taken in a secret five minute meeting with Nithish nine months ago
I’m fighting stars. I have no idea I can’t do anything unless my muse reads it to me. You are the couch existence sits on to write. Still hasn’t found you able to write anything. Here, do this circle.
No matter what I say, no matter what I dream, I can’t get rid of those institutes that go against the grain of society in compelling posts. I have been left without my boy and wondering if he’s better off without me. I am bereft of hope, and this is bigger than my boy. Is the whole thing a tin can?
Is existence squeezed out of existence by the Diamond Bearer? Is this all a charade, and even God himself can’t stop cryin’? Is there a safe harbor anywhere, a safe place? I’m talkin’ existence big.
Thank you I’m smart and can see the ruse in everything, even my own ruse. I can’t change my consciousness to save my life, and I know what change means. Are the roads to Supermind blocked by Supermind? Is enlightenment just a scare? What gives?
Do you know how fucked up everything is? Do you know how big it is, the screw in everything? We can’t climb Mount Everest with that. We are foiled by cliff hangers, and we can never reach the top, and in the history of poetry I have to explain to you symbolism. Nothing gets out of my bag.
Do you know how tall that is? I’m meaning’s worth, and I keep reaching holes in my story. I don’t understand all that is, but I know Gods play with us, and there really are monsters under the bed. Can you see my daily life?
Bigger than being it arrives from distant shores, the very breath of being, and it gets there all the time, in our underwear. I cannot move this molestation. Are we fucked from the very first? There’s a hole in the program. Whatever it is that uses us for existence is unhinged? That’s how the story grows?
What guarantee do we have that it is safe? Are we existence’s pall bearers? Alright arouse my pen are we safe from the universe? I question everything. In the horror of day to day living, living where peace finds us and goodwill, you can’t condemn it all to understand. You can’t even breathe.
Do you know we eat bread together on the inside, and I am you and you are me? That’s the joke ain’t it, we spit on that. I’m goin’ somewhere, even if I don’t believe it sometimes. I’m tryin’.
There I am on cars, and I carry the world around all day a poet’s worth. I have these great big thoughts that ground. I mean I’m a scout for the human race really involved with you. I question my own worth, but that’s not throwin’ myself away. I work in the engine room of humanity, and I don’t even think you know there’s there, for what it’s worth.
We haven’t found ourselves yet larger than our own personal skulls, dangnabbit. I’m a shopping spree of the limits of ideas. I can do it, get out there where no thoughts are, and I can hold existence in my hand. Is that a safety rope? I’m gettin’ underneath things not because I have to because I love you, and we can figure you my little boy.
I witness the safety ground, and I’m lookin’ for it in the large eyes he wears, and I could just tear my heart out, you know?
I have the living room in my hand, and I got a shot at Earth lead me to him. That’s the death of a unicorn has almost swallowed him whole, and he don’t know how to feel right, my little boy.
I’m comin’ upon him now. I’m placing a wall. I thought for a brief time there’s no doubt about it this is what he wants to flower with me.
You can’t lose your job. James, I’m tellin’ yah the truth. You will have his little hands in yours again, right there on bright Earth, where the Earth makes sense. You’re fillin’ a role in the sky.
I didn’t allow there’s monumental change ahead. What happened? It’s alright— monumental impact. Well here’s the movie here’s the camera, and I’ve got ‘im, I’ve got ‘im in my pocket. [sing this and above line] Can this be like all played out?
Wide God, did he actually go to touch that? No, he resurrected Tommy another poet live on earth; another poet rides the Earth.
Can I fly my hypotenuse a jersey on existence, I mean cans? This whole world is a big block. Everything’s in small measure. There’s no room for elbows. I can’t get yah to change your mind there’s a bigger party than this. Your little room is your little room folding existence upon itself. I wear those sleeves too, but I get out and abroad, you know?
We are lifetime wears. It’s a stinking ship. Just ask your neighbor you hate, or all the money you make at the expense of other people, the information you give that ain’t true, the self-righteousness that drives your car, and all your thoughts bent on death for those who’ve crossed you. Am I leavin’ your telephone number out? I don’t think so.
I can name names. Even the good on Earth do it in. Would you love that bad person to death? Would you get out of your family role and bring a stranger to dinner to sup with your kids risk and all? These are the roles of the One in flavorful chairs, and I’m usin’ analogy to get at device. How can I tell you you sail too the shape we’re all in? Do you see our pumpkin? It’s a safe haven for everyone.
We are littleness meets the stars confined to one room. It’s a prison house of escape. We can go so many places, with narrow openings, and it’s a secret from the crowd. I can’t prove to you I’ve been there, but you hear that sound now. I’m tryin’ to get bigger Earth, so we can mean somethin’ with our lives and not take a stranger to death.
I grapple with existence like it’s my magnet, all this poem to pull you along. We’re going to get there you see. It’s only a matter of time. It’s larger than wood, than our feelings’ meanings in time. Our thoughts can’t get there except on some spaceship that’s blasted off from Earth bigger than any thought you’ve ever had. We’ve got to bust out of our shell in the pains of life oneness denizen models. You know I’m countin’ score.
Now let’s get on with it. Can I give you a blog as a purpose of a universe? You’re not going to believe it’s in time, the whole meaning unfold that meets us right where we’re at. Harm’s End I’ll say it again and a collaboration with the unknown, and some Twitter eye in focus. I’ve did it. I’ve grasped the universe right in your pocket. Start with this poem and go from there. You will arrive at the universe I guarantee it. No one has done this before with their hand on the button of life.
I’ve surrendered you to abstractions. Do add-ons care? May we hit the role in the machine, get to very deary wood. I’m a pencil outside of myself. I’m not the me generation. Can you generate outside of yourself? Can you get there? I am the center of everything, and as much as we see this we don’t. We judge by selfishness a bottle unto ourselves.
Can you put yourself in the murderer’s shoes? Can you be someone liberal if you’re conservative? Can you be that priest that molests kids if you’re survivors of incest? Alright can you just be your wife if you’re too tired to deal with the kid crying at night? Can you be your neighbor, and they need you to take their kids to school, but you’re late for work? Can you be the guy at the grocery store that’s asking you for small change or at least I see you smile? Can you be your coworker late again, but you don’t tell anybody? Can you even be your kid, and he’s been caught with his pants down not to your sudden fury? Too tired to go to work, we can’t identify with people. We can’t look outside of ourselves.
It’s all the rage be offended. You know what I mean dear heart? You know what I mean expanded notion? If I haven’t hit home examine yourself. You’ll get better.
Now where do we play school? Getting bigger than ourselves in life’s little room. Watch those reactions. Give some pride to other people. Is that too tall for you? It’s what we’re here for in the basics of bein’ human.
Oh my God this mind stinks, and we shoot it down with bright ideas. Did we reach anybody? Only the choir. Oh my great big beautiful humanity we’ve got it all wrong. We heart with each other. We expose ourselves to vulnerabilities of feeling. This is the prize in the room: that heart’s safe to be with, you know? It’s what they remember you with, you know?
You can land a hypotenuse all over the freeway to capture the sun’s rays geniusin’ your way to a household name, but those around you know your love, how your heart is around people. We educate the mind, put it first in school, put it only in school as what matters more than anything else, and we are heart matters with each other. The rule and scale of mind is not our hypotenuse. It’s not where we get along with each other. The heart owns the whole show. It lifts us up with each other.
Can a poet say this? It’s where we abide in time. It’s my wake up to you. It’s where we meet in verse, and you hear me. It’s our meaning with each other. God rest his soul. I’ve done all I can to reach the heart of poetry. I smell the four winds, and I do hope that danger’s not real. Know how it feels to have said too much from the party line where the authorities don’t let you, not even in poetry. So long today. I hope that’s not all she wrote. A case that does not take square time became an artist. She finally took the picture that brought it all to bear. Can you identify with the wife?
Harm's End 