image by the author, Earth in space public domain via Wikipedia
The world is at the skid point. We are so caught in this movie we can’t even see beyond. Tell me you don’t care. Tell me you’re hangin’ out clothes to dry, and your little one’s screamin’, and that’s just big stuff on TV. Got caught in the movies. I know you ache at night, just about to spill it all, everything you know about the world but don’t. You don’t know what to make of it it holds you so close.
Can we climb out of this? We can sure get lost in it. Will you play with me? I’m a poet from Skid Row. No I’m not a drinker. I’m a free world thinker, and I want the world to last longer than its appointment in the annuals of our sun. I’m with you on that. I want to outlast the sun where I know I can be happy.
Have you ever seen the world up close? It’ll finger your dickens. No, no I’m not talkin’ about the rovin’ mania all around yah— the whole teeming world as an entity in front of your face. Got boxes and spring cards, but it’s the real McCoy.
I don’t know if you know what I’m talkin’ about yet. I scrap it off my shoe no. This is a divine appointment in time, the world as an organization that brings God on earth, and we can’t get over the word divine. I’ve lifted up your skirt and showed you religious offerings. I mean an intelligence bigger than the skies that can fit in our green Earth and bring it to the next level. You think of the universe as a flat individual organization, but the many levels of the universe go beyond the universe, and I tell yah Earth is scheduled for that.
I’m far from the clothesline now, but that screamin’ kid, I’ve gotten into his ache. We want a better world, expressive of need, and the world as an organization can do that, be unto our need. It’s flat and big everywhere we look today, but have you met the world yet? That’s what I’m tryin’ to say so that it matters, so that we can get bigger than ourselves, knowin’ the world’s done with livin’ for your kin.
Bigger than any national flag, the world is our step-brother that needs to know its name spoken on your lips. Oh no Mohammad you don’t own the world, nor Jesus Christ, and certainly not Hindu or Buddha, and the Jewish people will not rule the Earth. We’re all gonna get goin’ to see the world in each of us, to understand its nature bigger than the machine.
Are you with me on this? I think you’ll fight me some, until we realize Earth’s got an appointment in blue skies, and we will all revel in it, giddy with the realization of harm’s end. Do you know that cost? Can you turn around and see the world today? Flabbergasted can you see it?
A step-mother, seven kids, and digital shock, can you grab that? Help me chase it to we meet the world there. I’m not horseplay. I’m the world looks in on you, not the teeming multitudes, the world as a being in front of you in time, and I’m travelin’ a poet to forgotten shores, what a seer give society, its determining wings, how it lays out itself and what it be's. It’s the arms of society to tell you the truth. You must not let that little you. It’s the One looking in on itself. You’re the One. I am really here for you.
Now sing along. You can’t fool me anymore by your nonchalance. I know the score. You can’t shoot me anymore either. I know what I’m about, and even dead I’ll know it, and so will my poetry.
Open up in there. There can be no losers. Bite into something hard. Stare into something new. I gave you the congressional service. No shame in that. A wardrobe you know you can catalogue here take this self: we’re goin’ to the end of society as the machine.
Sheltered animals move and breathe. They just don’t get away. What was defeated in Mexico? Waiting by the bomb. You’re encountering that work’s envitalment, and you can’t get out of it. Best documentary That Worked. What are you doin’? Getting our own hands dirty in blowing up the machine, a long action that we can do without war or blowin’ people up or shooting them down. Here I am doin’ it don’t you see?
Never mind the behavior they stopped us from realizing it. What was that membership? Blowin’ up the world in I don’t care, oh no. I’ll give you as much as possible to farm time freedom from the machine.
Love, it actually gave us tomorrow, is the active ingredient. I find that news with anything. It’s real and normal if you realize you have met the world out during the day in every box you’ve met today, in every pair of eyes staring out at you, all of it, the whole damn show.
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?
Martin Luther King Jr. at the Controls by Donny Lee Duke
The three best ways to keep a lovin’ song down:
keep it under wraps;
tear it apart;
or get it morally censored.
What will happen to this song?
Change the world
in person.
Chronos’ fuckin’ with ‘im.
What do we do with inner process?
Figure it out?
It’s discrepancy,
and I’m tired of it.
I can’t see anything straight.
What do I do?
Move off campus.
You mean not listen to You?
Don’t dwell on thought.
Don’t just sit there and think.
Try something different.
Image real to yourself.
Play with your thoughts as reality in front of your face.
You’re lookin’ at the world
you’re lookin’ at your thought.
Try this at home.
Image reality to yourself
where people really get your goat
they know you so well.
Try not to open the door with thought.
Be a blank mind.
Stretch this
to infinity.
Don’t stop tryin’.
Your effort is your sadhana.
This is not success or fail.
This is do.
You savvy sweetheart?
I wil try.
As I was sayin’:
I don’t trust inner process
to tell me what to do
in that moment in life.
Otherwise make it happen
to change the world,
and you know it can.
Why resist?
That little boy,
this goes deep,
the relationship I’m having with him.
It’s complicated in poetry.
Our lives are in sync.
We share thoughts and boundaries.
Our inner lives are in sync.
We temple together.
There’s a line of his muse
in my poetry
when he didn’t see it in my poetry.
I hear this and celebrate
close ties,
eyes that join
in inner vision.
Is this too much for him?
He’s just a kid.
I’m glad you asked.
You’re the engineer.
The little boy spills all in front of you.
You teach him how to handle himself,
play poetry,
what his nature house.
I never gave him the thought.
It just occurred
when the Mother,
the Mother and Sri Aurobindo,
they took that boy by the hand.
He became Their disciple.
Would you believe a bolt of lightning hit him in the chest
standing before Their last darshan couch
Supermental Day last?
That’s how it started.
The opening came then.
I was there to facilitate it,
to open him to God.
I am his sadhana master,
and that’s the basis of our relationship.
There’s no monkeys in the house.
I don’t cancel him down.
She’s had the dog
in her parents' room,
when they abuse
where the line are.
When it’s my turn
to be his parental figure,
I’m very careful with those lines.
I know he’s angry
about getting slapped and beat,
threatened with death.
Ice cream
I buy for him every day
in my care.
We talked about that.
We called it moral-minded.
I thought you understood
you don’t raise a kid with rules.
You can,
if you want a kid bound by rules.
I’m the horse guy look at me.
Put it right in your phone,
desire coming up.
Don’t put a hold on it.
Be free and easy with it.
Don’t stay there.
What’ll I do with it?
Put it in the iTunes Store,
avoid that button.
Just sit with it clear and easy.
Don’t let it push you.
Don’t give in to it.
Don’t even tickle your fancy with it.
We don’t beat it.
We sit it out,
wait it out.
It’s not wrong it’s just there.
It’s a smelling salts for reality.
It’s unique to you,
why would you say that?
Everybody has to deal with this.
We regulate it
with a host of laws and penalties
as if they work.
We do not let it be an excuse
for behavior.
Freewill comes into play
we are told.
We disclose it to each other.
We are ashamed by it.
We have children,
we block this sight from our own view.
We don’t see it
in our hands as we wash them,
in our eyes
as we see them so fabulously naked.
It’s there,
and time will show it to you,
if you look.
We run with this?
We don’t eat kids.
They’re special.
They are in the room
when we see it
in ourselves,
when desire comes up.
Desire comes and goes.
It’s in everybody’s life.
It has to be handled.
It has to be seen,
seen real.
We don’t play with it
around our children,
if we can help it.
That leads to dead ends,
and children get spanked and smacked on
and get molested.
You know this is true.
Don’t let it entertain your monkey.
I’ve given other examples
the right way sex can be with kids
in “The Use of Animal Freedom”.
Hear that one,
where sex and kids meet wrong today.
To Rumble’s house
farther to go.
Tamil Nadu,
a door of a red handle,
punch out man.
Tamil Nadu,
stay away from the red door.
Don’t beat your children,
slap them,
punch them around.
They’re precious to you.
Do you hear them scream?
I think this is written all over your paper.
Children don’t have it easy with you.
They suffer.
You don’t know this.
You can’t see your own hands
Mr. and Mrs. Abuse Children.
I call this up from the deeps.
It was that way with me
when I was little.
Now my kid has made me mad,
done something wrong,
or just bothered me.
Then it all comes up again,
my unhappy kid-dom,
and I operate on program.
I don’t care the position he’s in.
I just start slappin’.
I don’t know this hurts him
in his developmental function.
I have that right.
I’m his parent.
Thank you God.
What’s happening here?
Desire has found its home
in a socially approved response mechanism.
It’s condemned on TV.
The presenters themselves
wack their kids
off camera.
I can compare this to touching a vagina
in a little girl’s life,
but you don’t know this is more harmful,
hitting them in the head.
I’m sorry I’ve made you mad.
You don’t know the power of violence over children’s lives.
You don’t know the power of sex over children’s lives.
Both harm.
One gets out the shotgun.
A sexual cannon no.
Mr. and Mrs. Abuse-Their-Kids,
pay attention please.
Where thoughts occur,
it’s not a bright and shiny place,
is laced with uncertainty.
It’s all on holdin’ the world wrong.
You see this you look.
The Whole looks at us.
The fragment looks back.
We are separate beings in time,
an erroneous vision.
Whatta we say about thought?
It arises.
It comes.
It’s there.
And a tenebrous unknown
has the thinker’s brow.
What gulfs lit the night
when we looked at the world for the first time
in the handicap of thought.
It pressurizes time.
It makes of us mincemeat.
It will not stop even for death,
what narrow bridge that is.
You seen it?
How special thought is
to make sense of the world,
to help us help or slay one another,
to give us more feeding room,
to come up with plans,
to turn around and change the world.
It hammers nails
on the fence of time,
held apart in yummy synchronicity,
modes of thought,
and get some answers—
quite the hero.
Do you get me?
I get yah dog.
Put your blue down it doesn’t stink.
It just sits in the powder.
These are the conditions.
You’re talkin’ about that boy, ain’t yah?
Don’t worry,
I have the edification.
I’m gonna spell it out to you.
We have a different choice.
You’re not gonna bust us up.
You’re not gonna hurt him
or me.
You’re not gonna regulate our relationship.
You’re gonna leave us alone.
Humanity needs this vision.
We play the game.
We don’t commode.
We be convenient.
We are open to you.
Two seers in time
startle vision.
We're not gonna compromise vision.
We’re going to remain loyal and true
to our seership.
That boy,
a man he will become.
Housed under my roof?
And in line with his truth.
You can use another poet
who can bring down Earth
on the stars of Heaven,
let them know our plight
and our road beyond them.
Here we’re playin’
some Krishna tune.
We are a bright and shiny love in the wells of time.
We do not make you stink.
We are Heaven and Earth together,
and we are seers of the Sun of Truth.
Throw all that over here,
everything we need to survive,
a protected house
and a place for our dogs.
We need your help.
Without your protection
we get violated
Auroville Media Ashram.
You know we’re your entity,
and we see the master plan as one future Auroville.
It’s up to you.
It’s your movie.
We are the inner you were built on,
5th army,
and we’re here to see the Sun.
There’s no stopping us,
unless you throw away reason
and pin us to the ground.
We’re your seers Auroville,
he and I,
the little boy and me.
Stick with the plan:
Auroville becomes divinized,
and the Yoga works.
Great the visions lay, huh?
Hey, you give thirsty a drink,
and you feed us with your vision.
Okay poets,
do your thing.
It will be misunderstood.
Can a kid change parents if they’re not happy?
What would address the soul need?
Would the parents have a right to say no
if his soul wanted him to leave,
if that were God’s will,
if that’s what the Mother wanted?
I ask you that.
How do you tell that?
First we establish that art,
and art alone,
will show that child’s soul
and the divine will operating in his life,
that art inspired by inner voice and vision.
Can I show it to you?
My grandson wants to live with me.
My little student wants to be near his master.
A seer-poet in training
wants to learn the inner craft.
This is soul arranged,
and I’ll prove it
with poetry written from the inner voice,
the boy’s poetry,
set in a video the boy filmed
just being a kid.
You will see inner process
amazingly match the outside world.
The two are in sync.
I have other prizes to show you,
but this one is the crown achievement today:
“Menu of the Gods”.
Now go
and see this video.
[hover over the last three lines and click]
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 of email] “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 metaphysicians 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:
Yeah we went down to everybody’s but King Lear was here. Spiritual enlightenment, I’m past gold card. It’s hung up in the bank. I just keep getting tested I’m sorry. Now we call on rabies to get vaccinated. Will I die? I’m a patrol boat. I turn everything in. I’m strong in squares. Everybody’s down on me yes.
All night jazz somebody. Is it overkill? I’m talking about the Frenchman in the harbor, my toe broadcast to the world. The muse is my bedfellow. Stranger coming. And I hear the voices at night. All along the shores of reason this infinity swirls. I’m a gust of wind called. I produce alphabets, stacking up reality in pictures that are not what you usually see. Can you reason with them? I’m an explosive marinade. I paint past pictures.
I’m edifying you. Would you laugh in thought or take my hand? I’m a dumbbell. How many reps can you do? I mean read to understand. We are for folks. We sing loud and clear. We are fro friend in need. Look at this as a gift. A microcosm, I’m a twilight zone. I do pronouns bigger than you.
There are voices behind this bigger than me. It’s all fountain keep. I love it in the afternoon. Who doesn’t want to sleep at night? I get paid. Divine love in boxcars show me the way. It’s substantial rhythm taking my life apart and going to harmony work. I know my own business. And here we are.
Rolling pin anyone? I just got so much to say. No problem, he’ll be joining the first one. How for? How could I do that? It’s so funny, my moon face. Social media, I’m a strong count here. Of course use me.
Everybody’s model, now, this is gonna be difficult. What baby? We throw in the dog, and Luna. Well ride ‘em on my puppy is not as single as all that. An emergency takes aim at afterlife. Where’s Luna, Bruno? No this is Lisa. Lisa’s like that, is a to herself dog.
Can I get to know her? She’s easily put. It’s hard to put you there. This is exploratory duty. You need to tell Lisa you care. Talk and say things. Your puppy’s not gonna order her light bulb in the next few days. Well we love about her. We adore her. I mean sound her name every time you turn around, she’ll grant you some special privileges.
Why can’t she go? She likes it so near you. Is she suffering? She has all this radio station. She is so occupied with you guys. A lot more wood had to be put into the system. Just rises in that is the toppest dog you’re hearin’. Keep sayin’ her name. Lisa baby please come with me. This is so close: you’ve got to be human baby. Lisa baby, I’m on our way.
Venture, wow, what a year it took bulldozers getting people outta here. They not deserving and not needing synergy, the sadhana circle. Can we grace them please while they go? I hear the heart in your room. I’ve got this incredible heart of my own you’re not balanced with. Bye people, go. We used to it, taking advantage of Steve McCoy. Now this affects her thinking. This is written on our desk.
That’s what I’m gonna be doin’, gettin’ into world thought. I do that every day. Now I have the plans for you. I’m gonna move in and question reality. Save the country, there’s something there. There’s a being. The people to become better. The being to see the world as its friend, educated on family. That’s the thought, ride family to everybody’s related on Earth.
We finish with this blog Harm’s End. When he goes back up here, now harm’s end I will reach you. Get ready. Now Lisa, I’m going to find my dog.
If you wanna touch mark on the spiritual path and be seen by future doctors help this guy get published. A scientist didn’t study reality. A seer did.
Pope Francis in Rome, photo Credit: AP/Alessandra Tarantino
What is it about to see a priest? Be reviewed by God doesn’t happen. You’ve just been given time off from that urge to find God. It satisfies your religious sense, nothing else.
That’s the big lie: popes and priests grapple for you God. They are the wellspring of our inability to find God. You must believe in them or else. Have I mentioned the clergy?
We think they’re holy men and women. They don’t know how to tie their shoe: be a system unto God. They are a profession in a bank, are not knowledge of God. They can show us the way to enlightenment very few.
What do you do with them? Helping men and women for causes just we give them credit for. Something in them has a calling they’ve mistranslated into religion.
They could go deeper, and some have. I don’t think you would find them in today’s textbook, but I’m sure there’s one or two out there.
So are they obstacles to God? In a manner of speaking yes. Desmond Tutu would not find for you revelation. You quote man’s ways on his greater path. You are not a stark naked outlook on God.
So, do we just find God ourselves unaided from God? What is a seer? They’ve opened God unto their lives, can express the spoken word they hear from on high or from their being’s core, the hidden speech that labors out the world.
It is not God talking, but it is the sound of His voice, clear with His meanings dim, for God cannot inhabit human speech, but revelations still come down, and the mystic word gives us bright hints of God. This the seer does.
You have heard him spoken in cities, heard her upon the mountaintop. Can you find the inner Guide? That’s the clergyman in every home, the minister everywhere. Can we come to this? Can we be unto God? The minister of the Earth God everywhere.
Harm's End 