Take the questionnaire. I have problems existing the way you want Council Bluffs. An opera, just what the world needs right now, our post-traumatic show, and I can’t do anything to stop you. You’re the stupid muse.
Who’s to listen to? I’m talkin’ storybook Earth. Are you wrapped around the axle with it? My God it’s got me by the balls. I’m in Nithish’s pan. Other than that I’m free. You would not stage this.
I’m too honest for broad noon, and I’ve got some big thoughts Earth don’t wanna look at, I mean in your society room. Have you ever seen an Earth poet? You’re supposed to. That’s what we’re all made of. We’re speakin’ to all mankind. Earth today, we get mad at the word man, but it farms poetry, you know?
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, I’m in a limousine, but let me get more Tennyson on yah and Marilyn Monroe. You think poetry’s got to have capital letters and sing about verses and stuff. Emily Dickinson would agree poetry comes from the inner voice. Slipped into you a mind swell the beautiful rose of poetry, even if it’s not a football field of the huddle of verses that high sound poetry to you. I give you an inner lunch.
Okay we’ve brightened our books today. I give you an inner sound, tryin’ to find your head. It’s all Madagascar. Have I opened a movie on the showroom’s floor? Train’s coimin’. It’s all about them dice watch your hedge podge in where you put your blinders on. Cute animals, eh? And everybody’s longing to be free.
Be not normal men and women, but reach above our kind and show how it’s done, ain’t that the anthem? Movie after movie of the greatest stories on Earth get by our living room with this. Would you believe they keep you in line, even in your underwear? Ask the surveillance movie Drop from start to ticket or Seven Veils, and I’m sorry I’m giving them credit, but I can’t watch every movie in time that littles us, I mean like right now as we’re havin’ lunch.
So many lies are told to manipulate your mind and bring all the bad country to bad men so demon they shine with the impossibilities of human nature taken to that degree. They’re demon bad. My mother sucked me when I was three, and my step-mother terrorized my mind, and I had to hide from her in the woods until my father got home. Teacher after teacher put me in the corner, the kind that hate little boys all over the globe for bein’ who they are, and they had a score to settle with men. Give a world this schoolin’, and let’s see how she acts. You can’t trust nobody.
Now I’ve got a little boy in the lurch taken from me and reamed, who grew up with me since he was five, but I was there from birth his daddy. It makes you all nervous inside that I’m speaking about him in this poem. Exactly. Can I show you the hurtin’ in the machine? You think it’s child abuse or a host of other ills, men bad to women, or a sudden and frank genocide, or tumultuous war. It’s our wrong seeing that causes harm, how we bake bread willfully and ignorantly with the guardians of the universe resistant to change.
I love my little boy, and that’s right and proper, but I’m a White man and he’s a Tamil boy in a red flag zone. Surely his parents must be right in beating him, slapping him across the face, not letting him go out of their sight or surveillance system or visit friends so he will not contact me. Do you know what this does to a child? He doesn’t write poetry. Now buy him anything he wants and wine and dine him. Surely he’ll stay on our side.
What’s the beef you reckon? I made better miles with him, and he preferred me to them. It’s all in the menagerie. Parents got rights over their children’s lives. Just ask Child Welfare. The mother gave them a bribe and the police and paid my lawyer more than I was paying him. This is India and this stinks, but who gives a damn?
Is anybody listenin’ to this poem? I mean he’s got to go with us, how you make a child today serious to produce that child the staple of the machine. Now let’s give ‘im bright airs and promise him the moon when he’s older if he complies now. Study hard kid. Your worth is in those grades, and your future depends on them, and we will ignore your dyslexia by ignoring it, you lazy little bastard. We’re smart can’t you see?
Now this has been shut off, squeezed out of him in a parental vice par none. You like that? That’s okay with you? Who the hell are you anyway, ordinary people? I heard you. The Indian consulate the Indian dear, kick ‘em to give this boy what he needs. For fruit to work tell ‘em read this boy.
Look at the Indus Valley.
They came here and planted it Themselves,
the Gods on Earth.
This is talking ship.
It saw Them mountain range.
Where we goin’?
Invictus.
It’s gonna take a long time just to get started.
Itching glass
now.
Come and say hi,
every wrong thing about India.
You got any stamps up here?
The ruling party wants to throne themselves,
like they’re in charge of Earth.
It’s in every land grab.
What’s happening?
That’s the truth—
want this uttered on Hindu lips.
Hey,
drown the BJP,
their own mess,
and they’re not
what the Gods intended.
Smell them?
They are not crystal clear drinking water.
Where would the Bhagavad Gita ride their behavior?
They go after people
without equanimity.
They hate and they slay.
What principles of yoga do they follow?
There’s the Self in my enemy;
I must respect him?
கொஞ்சம்
the spirit of the demonic man
in their heart.
Rage like asuras.
Where are they busy with the Self?
Universal brotherhood
and compassion,
you have not seen this in them.
I’ve seen this all over town
In their fields of notion.
Have you heard their laws?
They would bury people
in punishments made to make them suffer.
They have no understanding of law.
It’s not used as a weapon.
It’s to help you become better.
Look at their ganja initiative.
The underaged would suffer so
in environments that will make them worse.
Now let’s look at their civic duties.
Employment for youth,
better wages and a shorter workweek for all—
no more 12 hours days?
Let’s help our homeless, shall we?
take care of our old people,
give orphans the royal treatment,
and don’t leave anybody out in the cold?
Where are they taking the population?
bad, bad, blood, blood, [line heard sung by Neil Sedaka, song “Bad Blood”]
to the wrong thing in our hearts.
Let’s look in on ourselves
with cameras.
Surveillance all over the city.
Let’s watch each other mean.
The spirit of God has no business on Earth.
Control their lives and they’ll submit
to our little dictatorship.
As soon as it’s ready you’ll see.
We will get you.
Laid back Pondicherry,
we’ve got other plans for you:
a Hindu initiative.
Listen to the writing on the wall
BJP.
Peaceful Pondicherry
in God’s hands.
Direction:
let’s ramp it up,
the realization of God in everyone’s lives,
the flowering of everyone’s humanity.
No dogmas—
you are on the road to self-discovery.
You will reach down deep inside
and find your wherewithal with Earth,
and find your true self.
That’s where we’re goin’.
We have to start somewhere.
Let’s start standing up to the BJP.
This part of myself
I will turn towards the light.
Do you see the spirit?
You’re not pointing fingers
like some moral crusader.
Hey man that’s me,
and I’ve gotta respect myself,
whoever you are.
That’s the lesson plan.
That’s how we do it.
Harm's End 