Reality sucks— someone who has not been initiated into the mysteries, the world’s suckless stuff. There is just so much to reality. It’s not slow motion. It’s got things on it. A dog licking your feet can be paradise leanin’ down on yah, the boy snuggled up to you a ballon of how the Earth feels in sun’s arms, the writing of a poem the feelings of the universe taking note it’s good to be alive. Shut up, I don’t trust you/believe you. [phrases spoken simultaneously] Reality sucks, doesn’t it? I was in his pencil box. I think that’s the only thing you look at. Walt Disney, can we say he had fingers? Of course he did. He just didn’t put ‘em in his movies. He wasn’t concerned with reality. Now where do we look at to be true? This is a strange one: I’m molten lava; I make the world a better place. This man’s sexual sins, his penis as it looks at children, Krakatoa. My God the music in this program, it sets the world straight. Read a few poems and see. Can we heal pedophilia? Can we change the world? I hold you accountable on this blog! I’ve pulled down my social media pants and given you something to think about. Where does reality lie with us? It’s bigger than sin, our existence. I call you on your shots. You take the world and make it a paper-mâché. You take a black kidney and throw it away. You don’t know how to face reality. I’m on your gun. You just squeeze people, take them in the social room and make them comply. You are not concerned with what works better or what works best. You want people to believe you/obey you. [phrases spoken simultaneously] You think I’m talking to a police officer’s gavel, or the lawmakers. Can we address society? Blog reader, don’t get angry, but you’re the society I’m talking to. And you thought Big Brother’s a government. Flag my blog. Bring us to the border with this. This is terrible. Nobody’s ever a piece of paper. We are living, breathing, human beings, each trying to make sense out of life. I’ve taken my disorder and done just that. I’ve gotten at the world that way. I’ve figured out things, taking my penis as a flashlight. Tell me that’s not the quick of our social selves, the genital stick up. It brings heart matters to bear. It lollipops the whole world. It gets us clean, if you dare to shine God with it. Am I making you sorry you’re such principle ass keepers? I can show you how to be human, and you don’t rob anyone of their meaning in time. You only rob meaning to rob meaning. This is America. We look down the gun at pedophiles, and my don’t the world believe us? We don’t care how spiritual you. You have no right to say anything. I don’t think you know the Apostle Paul, for surely if you’re not Christian, you’ve been raised in a Christian country. How many Christians did he kill, before he outshined Jesus as the principle Bible teller? Would if he killed children? You know I’m talkin’ executions. Now tell me I’m dirt, and redemption’s impossible. I think you killed Jesus. Wasn’t he a victim of sexual sin? And they shot him for it. I’m sorry I don’t believe in your goodness, in your virtue. I think you’re just as mean as me, when I held a boy down and ruined his life, and he cried. What did I say? How detached from reality I was. I couldn’t feel his pain. I’ve wanted to apologize. You don’t know where we have to go to heal this thing called human. We have to get down into the blood, into those spaces where we are cut off from one another, where human doesn’t fit, animal reigns. Somehow we have to transform those moments. How to bring people there? We have to get down into humanity’s stuff. And do we do that with Hitler killing Jews? It’s an example we wear to try to stop this among us. How many Jews say that? Where are Jews today? Still under the gun. You don’t want them there, and you want to protect children, and you want no more atrocities. Am I right? Where do we go? I’m showin’ yah. Will you just listen and not shoot. Will you be there for me too? It’s a reality seer, the direction of our travel. Will you see that? Will you know it’s there? Survivalist, I’m so sorry I failed the test. You don’t know what I’m doin’. You just think I’m a piece of paper. I’m taking my very life and placing it in your hands. I’m obeying God. I can’t get any bigger than that. I have the greater love. I’m not sorry for it/ashamed of it. [phrases spoken simultaneously] It’s not a box office hit. I think you’ll shoot me for it, but I’ve given you the formula for world change. This poem is just the beginning. Have you seen it yet? There is no one we cut off from humanity if you don’t want anyone cut off from their humanity. I can’t say this loud enough. I need you to see reason and the purpose of Jesus, come to terms with your humanity. It’s a rising sun. It doesn’t hurt people that wipe away guns from your eyes. It stays away from harm altogether, if it can help it. Can I reach you? Can this just be the two of us sharin’ bread? I’ve put my life on the line. Is that worth nothing, the sacrifice? I got this house full of living people inside, and I love them all. I’m a house keeper, and I field house. It’s my primary reality, where I spend the most of my time. They don’t know I’m under the gun. I don’t defeat them. I’m their Santa Claus, and a whole handful are dogs. They are so innocent. What are you going to do with that, tear out everybody’s hearts there? I want you to know the people you kill, if you should surrender to armed impulse to uphold a reality you don’t live up to. Now I continue with my life, even if you don’t mercy me. I do not know what God has in store, but I think Jesus died on the cross so I don’t have to. Tell me you only feel outrage. Tell me that’s all you feel. You’re alarmed over me. I don’t think you’ve gauged a piece of paper correctly. I am not the danger one here. You are the gun. You are not lawlessness. You’re something worse. The force of good in law you turn to slay. I haven’t had a chance to say this: how we doin’? If I just spit on you, feeding time. I really wanna make you happy with yourself. I want to show you goodness that does not kill. I want to hold your hand and give you a reality that doesn’t suck. Open up to the depths of life. Get out of right and wrong. We’re up there in the sky in splendid love. Can you meet me there? Can you come to my garden? I’ve planted so many roses for you. Read each one. Hi Luna. Are we nuts? Hi Lisa. My Rottweilers I’m showin’ yah. I’m in the way with them. They finish me off. I am so in love with them it hurts. I worry over their human. It’s my job with them. I’m bringing them to us. I think some know of the possibility. There, I hold a boy’s hand in a Rottweiler’s fur. It’s such a clean love. All that beauty, I don’t need to take it and eat it. Regal a Rottweiler is, standoffish in Time’s Square, but I can get into some lovin’, you know? This change, a boy is glad and bears it. He doesn’t have to hold himself there a freight train. He gets that good love a Rottweiler gives, and they just steal your heart. No here Luke, follow Us. This is brain, the trail towards enlightenment, come boy. [heard sung, my voice and guitar] What does the red line mean? That fundamental safety line, no one violates. What tempered glass is the horse driven? We actually go to spiritual enlightenment. You grow out me. But how? Run in the house the consciousness of Christ child. I thought about it. Know, a national thought a ride. And it is a blessing isn’t it. Until it becomes the official record, some Disney Land that you’ve come out with in the world, that will be your attack point this is reality bliss. Now tell me again you’re America land of the free. Fort Myers Beach, is it the origins of a better society? A beautiful place, thank you for the sun golden.
A poem by Donny Lee Duke
He discovered that his Crimea life had to change. I’m not talking about the pencil box. We’re seein’ movies: all eyes on the outer scene and you're in the movie. How do I concentrate? Remove obstacles. Look at your life in purpose. Don’t just stand there and stare at things. I don’t know how to engage this. Look at that rice on your plate. Does it need you? Yet it exists. I need another metaphor. There’s a dog in the corner. It’s barking. It’s baking. It’s just lost in its own movement, you see? You put yourself in everything you’re lookin’ at. Can you give a free look, free of charge? Just look, no questions asked. This is less painful. It’s not up and down. The Source is just a remover of boundaries. The Source won’t last long on my time. I’m a question paper. In this instructional video, can we suddenly lick my nose, make mean somethin’? I wanna apply this to life in the substance of my hands. We process thought so your hands help the world sunshine. This even in the substance of your genitals and how your dick holds the world when you look out upon the world. Why the sudden graphic video? Attention readers, I think I got yours. Once we go down there it’s hard to come back up, you know? even in a poem. I study reality whether you believe it or not. I put divine values on everything. Now I’m learnin’ to not bother with me. A thousand runs will there it is. We don’t want to invest reality with our stuff in the substance of our see. We want to be free in that look. It’s like the doorbell rings, and you’re not concerned about it. You do not enter the picture. Can you get that look? It’s hard to bear/keep. [words spoken simultaneously] There are so many things pressing on your mind. This is thought control at its most basic. Can you see reality from here? It’s got lines in it. Crossing them means you. A monkey sees that swingin’ from tree to tree. You can’t see that in your living room. You’re not involved in yourself in reality, unless your reality needs that look. It’s screamin’ at yah. Can get that look on death row. Reality has you by the balls, and you see yourself too much. This is freedom from spheres. You have a long way to go to freedom yourself, oh world of my sunshine. It’s not a substance of thought. Your reality changes the ground of consciousness has. Wow, this is frightful if you haven’t bubbled into it over time. There’s no room for it, with your leavin’ everything, and you don’t know how to handle zero, and everything’s still around you. We’’ll get to that later. It’s the culmination culminated elsewhere. This poem doesn’t go that far. Here you just let go of you as you stare at things.
Anyway I’ve got a limited ordinary sword. [vision putting the image for poem here] I can’t seem to see the forest for the trees. It’s hot stuff, because it’s got so much reality behind it, but still there’s ordinary consciousness there. Can you count the trees? Can you even tell the difference between a reality bin and ‘can you see the trees’? I am a lineman for the county. [heard sung by Glen Campbell, “Wichita Lineman”] You’ve tripped up everybody— a line you make. Will it ever join reality? We’d have to look at my poems awhile and see. No one’s taking them to the picture show. What form is that? Can you get rid of me? You’re not packaged reality. I think the reader said that. This is traditional English in the mass. Where do all these bubbles come from? A larger reality that makes passes at reality and even cowardly reality. Much more was in conflict after Zelenskyy’s assassination. Can we make Zelenskyy any bigger? Planets and rallies in the corner, the poet the symbol is a metaphor of. This is so on your feet. This is so operation from your mystery. His society refuses him to speak. You heard his poetry anyway— lessons in accountability. Alright throw him away for now, and just look at bare reality. It’s there behind the poem. She was always ahead of the Path. Can clear at any moment, and she just keeps engagin’ in stuff until it does. Do you want to see my failure in things? It’s listed on the net. And there it is. Man it came to me at dawn: I am now gonna make it to the top of the world, with or without you. [heard sung by U2, “With or Without You”] Do you hear my drivin’ point? My freedom from midnight, from all expressions of evil. Can you hear that power? It’s right where you least suspect it. It’s in your living room. Pick me up will yah? Get into the rest of that television mobilized for enlightenment. Cheerio. You can say he went to the doctor. A lot comes out of that. Good and clean, those are the eyes. Hallelujah.
A Belief in a Miracle
A poem by Donny Lee Duke
One of the ones that let me in, that touched my soul, profound mailbox. I came homeless year after year after year. We’re good. We don’t understand your concept, the jolt in the room. Let’s keep busy so we don’t have to reply. Is this license to just take the trouble to ignore someone? Seldom I got a reply. The root task and how profound it is. It’s indeed the world. It’s indeed larger than the universe. I can’t carve this out for you. I can only sing. I don’t know the Rumpelstiltskin of your life’s work. Your struggles are a Banyan tree to me. See the consciousness there? It has handles on it. Study books and thought process, I don’t think you’ll arrive at the explanation of the universe. Can we hold a tree? What do we do with time? How do we say the world to ourselves? Do you hear the inner speech? It’s spoken softly in so many inner ears. You’re readin’ it. It’s what you hold in your hands in an ancient text of wisdom. Not everyone has the fire. Not everyone can read the text right. And we’ve come back to your story: not everyone has the inner fire, though they long to see the universe as it is, though they long to be more than what they are. Can you grasp this? You light it that way: the object of your romance with time the inner fire to see the Invisible. I think you’ve accredited universities with this task. I think you’ve stopped at representations. I think you’ve stopped at outer process. Hidden meaning. Self-doubt see in your own blue pen. Who am I cooking? Jessica Frazier the academic. Have a little finger pointing in your own direction. The TVS fixed. It was incredibly difficult. Why do you believe in miracles? I’m standing one. You hear my measurements? The boy in the yard. Bigger then reality I have not made them.
For years I’ve been sending emails to scientists and academics, or I’ve commented on a tweet of theirs, usually with links to something I’ve written involving inner exploration. Less than a handful of times have I gotten a reply, and when I have it’s just to express thanks for reading them, not to engage me over the importance of such experience. This is the latest example of such an email. If you’ve been reading my latest poems, I’m trying to show where we fail as a world. Here, it was not from reasons of moral outrage, but it was one of the titanic: the best minds aren’t. It was from an ‘expert’, i.e., a person influencing world opinion on an official level, in this case a person assigning meaning to the world, not listening to someone trying to get their attention, someone who just might have something valuable to add to the conversation. Click on the link at the end of the email, read the article, and tell me that’s just not possible.
[Subject] “Communicating with someone, and learning what they have to teach us…
learning to adapt our view to the information they give.” From your YouTube video Gadamer. Hello, I’ve just read your article in Psyche “Ancient Indian texts reveal the liberating power of metaphysics”. I’d like to get to the heart of the matter as quickly as possible please. “We can do something extraordinary: our mental parts can climb out of the window of the body, and up into the higher levels of reality.” What a wonderful statement worded so well, but are you speaking literally of actual hands on spiritual experience, or are you talking about using your imagination and having high thoughts? I think it’s the latter, and it’s precisely here your article doesn’t capture truth, that being what’s actually going on or has. “I might live in 2022 in Oxford, but I can share the experiences of persons in Thailand or the US, and imagine different lives I might have lived. With the help of scientists and philosophers, I understand levels of the cosmos that lie beyond the senses, and can access realities, values or ideas that cannot be destroyed with any mere physical body.” What it seems not only you are missing, but also the scientific establishment and the humanities, as university teaches them, is that it’s possible to have the experiences that the mystics (or metaphysians describe). They are not only basing their ideas on the use of their imagination or on their thoughts. Many if not most are basing them on firsthand experience. Furthermore, though beyond this email, the authors of the Upanishads and the Vedas did not compose their writings but heard them via the inner voice. Do you know the meaning of Agni in this context? In other words, the texts came whole and ready made from their inner vision, one or a few lines at a time, and they wrote them down, something not possible unless you’ve had the experiences the texts they wrote describe, what would open a rishi or seer to such inner vision.
Although I can give ample examples of the latter, the inner voice writing one’s seer-poetry (you can look that up if you want), I will only give an example of the heart of the matter of the email. It would be quite something if you even read it. There’s just so much vying for our attention, and something from out of the blue and from someone unknown, well, that’s usually what automatically gets sacrificed to the expediency of time:
What’s bigger than the universe? Hang on, What’s bigger than everything?