Have brain damage, that’s not really politics. It’s a funeral. Who would see The Last Tree Trunk on Earth? Critics say it’s a good movie. It’s spills bad. It was filmed inside Iran in secret trees. It’s got a wallop to it. You see freedom up close thrown out in the street and beaten on. You see it shot with knives. This is a real camera folks, and girls just want to have their scarves not choke them to death. Is anybody watching this? Can anybody care?
The Seed of the Sacred Fig was put in the wrong house. Brilliant you hear the arguments at the table theocracy speaks, but it’s shot in red and white, and we practice human nature with a murdering gun. We do not show human nature. A father and daughter are not that red apart, suddenly, unexpectedly, so the plot can aim its gun. Would a family go mad, horribly so, for a strength to resist evil that none of them felt they had? An entire lifetime together with daddy milk and a mother devoted to everyone, it lands on the freeway I will hunt you down and kill you love said.
How tall these movies are in our backyard. They bring humanity under the gun. Has human nature been robbed of its sense? It’s blow out of proportion so it can impress audiences and score award points. We see human nature sick and dying in movie after movie, and we can’t get over the villain. He is so perfect in his craft, miraculously a monster just doing the impossible. We love to hate him, and if it’s a her all the more.
They’ve confused us with what’s real. Human people don’t act like that, and these movies have us all alarmed, riding out our hate in tickets sold. What’s the point of all this mess? Make more bucks, and let’s take these artistic challenges and make them rob people wear. My God that’s a talented movie just on our disease.
Alejandro in Problemista almost makes the villain human, but then he wrote the apology. We’d have to go to Sing Sing for a good movie in emotional fare, so Shakespeare on Earth. Let’s not get too gay in National Anthem and spoil the show. We have purpose in our lives this movie knows not of. You wear a good Holocaust in A Real Pain, tryin’ to show it right, on the level of human eyes a human drama. What am I doin’? Showin’ you my movie list. I watch a lot of movies. I’m really into them. This is the way we spend human nature, in identifying roles. We get involved with a part. We identify with a character, a plot. It wears our lives in symbolic meaning. We get at the stuff.
We invest ourselves there oh so strongly. We’re raped with a bad ending. A good movie can make us feel good about ourselves and improve our lives. It can heal. It can do bad things. It can tear up our lives for a moment of all meaning. It is so very powerful, cinema. It goes directly to the starting point, where our lives came from and why. Alejandro is good at this. Amazing creativity those scenes where he’s talkin’ to someone, and it shows the whereabouts, the representative part.
Drum roll please. We are creative edges of time. We stand and sing our lives an entertainment for deep meaning. So many roles wear our lives. Can you get at the audience? Being after being, shrouded in unimaginable mystery, have a total immersion gamble with our lives. Of course we like movies. We are there.
A Rumpelstiltskin comes along and plays the keyboard, and we’re on bended ground unable to figure out destiny, but we can get back to ourselves. Audience after audience prevents us, the cliffhanger of our lives their entertainment point, but they value our lives in our bid for freedom and to discover who we are. It’s their thrill. They clap when the angels sing.
Are you crazy yet? You’re just gettin’ started. There is so much behind the scenes in the dragnet of who you are. I cannot show this to you, the person you are on high, the actor that has donned this long line of all these lives. I can only keep tryin’ in poem after poem and my symbolic life, but it’s a farce you know. I’ve really let yah down, right where you needed me, and there’s no way to make that up. When you see it’s a game, though a meaningful one, know like you know the body you wear, because you have seen it with your own eyes, that you are an actor in a cage, a player playin’ time, the first thing you do is fuck up. It’s the proud of human nature. It’s so stupid.
It prevents me from showing you who I am and who you are, unimaginably big, but that’s life, a goddamn movie that just throws you for a loop, and you can never get it right until you stop the pretendin’ and come together on yourself what you need beyond time. You’re not the audience I’m speakin’ to when I say I’m puttin’ on those shoes. Feel the thrill? A poet measure this poet smiles.
How do you chew on that poem? We grow in stadiums. A Watcher watches our lives. It’s dream big. It’s not who we are the audience in prerecorded time. This is not the first time creation mount. Great DVDs we live for their viewing pleasure. We are that Watcher you see, not the audience pang, and we can’t get over him. It’s too stadium big. It transcends time and space, but above our roofs it’s there, the hidden keeper of our lives, who we return to, the one who started it all in our little universe.
You don’t believe me I know, but you’d like to. The hidden meaning of our lives are compassionate witnesses beyond number and form. Everywhere they look they are there the meaning behind creation on this bended globe, in this starstruck universe, and they change us with a look the bearing on time. They are the Watchers behind time watchin’ the movie us them very selves in time. Can you feel them?
Your true self, they bring you home. Months of capacity open those gates, if you’re ready for them again, and you’ve been there before for a brief moment a time or two in all your many lives where afterlife grows. It's a certainty you remember. It’s a certainty you hold in your skies that you farm into your very ground I’ve planted this poem with, a vehicle of my own return one sudden afternoon before the death of me. You come up with yourself in the ultimate game of life, the ultimate paradox of life. That’s a round of applause. You hear the whole stadium sing your great escape, your victorious mile I put better in progress.
Alejandro, he did it. I’ve seen what movies list as our great surprise. Too mundane to take it where we meet beyond the universe, they give it gas and go. Are you hearin’ this?
We have that place where, yep, you need to turn on that character light. I would say he does not deserve the title respect call him. Thank you sadhak. Nat started a story. It was obscenity of being, the crazy what’s up nails trauma a bunch of us go through. Are we on your calendar?
You’re nice and pretty. Does that mean you’re good in the sense of good to all of us? We’ve got a world here in a tin can. It hurts everybody. You would not like a story that makes you mean. Is that transformative?
Watch movies that’s all you see, a blight of entertainment “televised from the gulfs of Night” [from Savitri, an epic poem by Sri Aurobindo] that tells stories to pit you against one another, to make your blood boil, to let the demons in.
There isn’t a place on the planet it’s not on your local TV. This is what we’ve gotta get out of, get back to our dream maker as the one we watch and write. Is that a perverted slam?
You would boil at the inner consciousness because it pits you against your morality papers: don’t say cuss words; don’t mention sex; don’t talk about getting your dick sucked when you were five by your mother. What have I just done?
I let the inner consciousness in in language that grabs you and moves you, that has the day on it, that gives you a porn whereabouts so many faces are into these days. It hits you where you’re at if you can’t tell right from wrong, if you’re lost in all this sleaze. We’re tryin’ to reach people not preach to them.
A dream comes out from someone who suffered this in the language that it felt like, and the elect can’t take it because they don’t know how to deal with it. They’re into quotes of Sri Aurobindo and pictures of deity. They look at spirituality as the cure and not addressin’ what’s wrong in the language that needs to.
Everybody just be nice. Make your concentration daily and let no wrong movements in. Be cheerful and happy. There’s no end to the advice in spiritual seeking. Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty of life. Let’s use those quotes to solve problems. The Mother and Sri Aurobindo are a wealth of that, applied in ways you haven’t imagined yet, because you’re religious and one-sided.
We need to heal, so many of us. You can’t imagine what it’s like where hell has opened in humanity. This is all over the globe, terrible stories that’ll make you cry if you had your empathy on.
We need to heal the world first, then spiritualize it, and spirituality will be healing, because that’s what it’s made for, if it’s the soul involved. You don’t know this. Soul healing’s to you a preacher wrote. It’s not test the limits of humanity in making healing the order of the day. This soul is wide and free. You don’t know that either.
You look at the Gods of Overmind, the lowest rung. They’re moral and straight. They have seen God in passing one time maybe. They are closest to us in the ways of deity. They make rules and regulations, put experiments on vice and get rid if it not heal it. Our whole world is taken by Them. It’s what we need to change and bring a new order upon the Earth, soul healing in the dynamics of Supermind.
You don’t know how wide God is, when it comes to the personal growth process of wholeness and healing. / That’s been my path all along, and it’s gotten acute where I show it to you, all Sri Aurobindo’d. What else can I do? I’m his disciple and a seer of his wisdom, and I’ve been told to talk to you.
I’ve spent 25 years learin’ my craft, a lifetime before that as a poet. You can’t fault me in preparation, all prepared for yah. Grab me by the balls will yah and throw me to policemen, or at least try to shut me up? God’s will be done.
One editorial board member, Dr. Alok Pandey, who is listed as a “Member, Research Advisory Council, Sri Aurobindo Society,” replied to my emails, three times, the first: “May Her Grace be with you,” her meaning the Mother, the second: “What is tormenting your soul so much dear child?” and the third: “You are quite right. You seem to be an angry and arrogant brash revolting angel. I don’t find your poetry tasteful or even poetry. It is a blurting out of things stirring in your subconscious, not mind nor higher, but inframental forces. That’s my view about your poetry. By the way I am not part of any organization nor have any access to publishing poetries so you could perhaps try some other place or person. Good luck. May the Grace be with you.” No one else on the board or in that organization has replied.
Harm's End 