You’re on live.
You’re still switchbacks.
Let’s see if I can find ‘im,
wife beater.
High on our side,
you’re the premium.
You prove the words.
Put you in the dustbin.
Where you think you are buddy?
This is Afghanistan?

I’m gonna be sayin’
I’m really glad you’re here
in the not too distant future.
Agreed,
don’t let him in.
See you tomorrow.
A new episode,
Aimless By Elvis.
We’re 9:30.
Fresh took from the Mother
they did not realize.

Higher law
would you challenge?
Listen to this bullshit.
I like that medical.
I like that emergency.
Alongside
I don’t wanna bother people.
I don’t want to fucking bother people.
So we pretend we’re okay.
I’m the manager
of a showcase word
that’s totally unacceptable in society.
No one listens to it,
except a few who know what it means,
because they write the stuff,
or it’s in their hands to read.

The city of dawn don’t like it,
won’t even give it the time of day,
who it’s for
where its record keeps.
They don’t listen to it.
They don’t want it.
It’s a waste of time to write it.
I look at the long of it,
and help is on these pages
I can’t get out to the public,
understandings that would bring peace,
revelations enlightenment.

I can heal,
and I can just listen to sins.
I sit here flabbergasted
the world does not want to heal,
and no one wants to face reality,
and I’m reality’s keeper,
the healer of old wounds.
I can’t count this.
I can’t see its shores.
There’’s no end to the proud ignorance we all share.
There’s no listenin’ to our faults.
There is only straight ahead
bullshitting ourselves
we are honest and sincere,
or just say fuck it screw everybody
I want my MTV,
a cultural allusion
to I want whatever pleasure I can get
to get lost in it,
and some say really wanna hurt people
and let that world end.

Where are we today?
We can’t see ourselves.
We are not there,
honest to God trying
to better ourselves,
to make the world clean,
to have a functioning society.
We hate each other,
and sometimes with good reason,
but who thinks hate heals?
It destroys our world.
It’s a poison in your inner life
goading your neighbor to sin,
like pick up a gun and shoot people with it.

And here we are on the airways
putting thoughts in people’s minds
an unconscious contest.
We are not ready for everybody thinks
in the same pool of blood.
We can’t see that,
and it’s not a belief you fit into.
Painstakingly over mountains of years,
this comes up in dream and vision.

You see the inner connection
interpreting dream symbols
and see them manifesting in the outer world.
You have to see it for yourself.
It comes up again and again.
This in itself would revolutionize society,
make us kind to each other
in the wheelbarrow of our try,
make us join together
as one people
that holds humanity at stake.

You can’t see it if you’re a scientist
studying dreams.
Their field won’t allow it—
too many rules,
but take a choir and put it together,
who sing their dreams to one another over many long years,
and you will definitely see it
in the songs that you sing,
and you will change the world.
God no,
you won’t even get it to listen to it,
and I’m comin’ from one choir.
Hear me speak?

I don’t know what I’m lookin’ at.
Check this out,
there’s this guy on the radio
crammin’ religion down our throats,
the nut,
magical thinker pattern picker-outer
where they’re not there,
magical thinking fool.
We can’t get around this
introducing consciousness into the picture
in a world of material thinkers
who bargain for the day.

AI speaks
and everybody listens,
or enough that endanger our world.
Can I crawl this to you,
an innate speaking system
that spiritualizes mankind
in great healing waves
your own inner voice speaks?
How God you have to be to get there,
how many trials.

It heals humanity,
like a rocket test.
It won’t make the news
because it’s individually run,
a healing system on Earth,
where the Earth loads itself
all shame and everything,
where we don’t want to see.
This is the great test of healing’s ways.

You see the rulebook?
I can’t get this across.
So the city laughs at me
you stupid little thing.
Got no time for your poetry.
We are too busy with our not see.
Can I spell this out?
Auroville created for great change,
to create among its selves the new human being,
based on oneness and I do care,
that brings humanity to the mountaintops,
is closed to it when it comes,
laughs the poet off the pier,
just wants him out of town.

Alright listen up.
I’m here,
and I’m not the new human being,
but I got recipes children
that’ll put this in our hands.
There, there now no.
I’m a fire speaker on your shores,
and I continue with it now
you know reluctantly all systems go.

Art in the nature of its see
looks at us through tall glasses.
We think we’re the audience.
We propaganda time.
Art,
when it comes from its source,
makes us move mountains
to see ourselves,
and therein lies its price.

It’s not beauty you’re looking at,
or ugly turned inside out.
You’re lookin’ at yourself in mirrors of our kind,
so we can sit with it awhile
and put the light on our lives.
Can you find art today?

A little bit of Heaven
is the maker’s bill we’ve lost

in how it's made,
inspiration’s golden ring.
Would you throw this away
because it wrestles with sin and vice,
wrestles with the Gods
to bring Auroville here
to bring down God here on Earth
unpunished Prometheus,
ordered by the Gods no?
You tell me.

Another poem declined by the private Facebook group Auroville International but approved and posted by the Facebook group Auroville, INDIA.