Tag: self-realization

Starting Point

On By Donny Lee DukeIn PoetryLeave a comment 
The breathless crunch until the breathless cradle hits high air,
yoga limits above the currents,
fee-fi-fo-fum!
Gonna look forward to it.
Don’t get alarmed.
You’re a nice person.
This is not on your stool yet.
Jumping to get a head start
I’ll be arrested
being this little person in a little shell
exploding these bounds.

I don’t know where to put my see yet.
You’re not about a change of plans,
and I am an axe murderer among you
jumping in and cutting off the head of the snake.
I want a new worldview.
I want reality honored.
I want holism to rise among us.

Let me start where we hold most dear.
Let me start in the station of the room
we call square one,
right from wrong.
Are you in bed together yet?

I bleed this in the sky:
the unity of the wrongdoer
and whomever got hurt or harmed.
Can you see these naked clothes
oneness puts on us
where it touches our ship?

Pistol-whip the guy
oneness brings.
Stand on rooftops and sing.
Can you get out of your underwear
and know naked wrong?

Nobody understands me.
I want to hurt you
because I’m an answer to existence
bubblin’ up inside me
from hidden pain.
Can I toy with yours?
You suffer for it,
and I take my dick out and do it again,
arm harm.
I’ll shoot all you mother fuckers.

Who sees a child crying?
Who sees a function of the universe?
Who sees your identity with him,
and you’re also accountable,
and you’re also bear witness?

Who sees these roles?
Does the innocent child?
Does the baker and candlestick maker?
Does anybody?
Do you?

Can you count this to yourself?
Are we in the depths yet?
We have a view of harm’s end.
Deeper still.
I think we all go in there,
meet God,
the Unimaginable behind everything.

And we grasp ourselves deeper more.
Where are we?
There is no tellin’.
Take off the worlds.
Encompass more than Spirit.
Be there before God was born.*
Abide forever in motionless depths
we cannot fathom nor know,
and we found who we really are.

From the Alone in every face to the free from the Alone,
I’m controversial now.
That murderer needs ice cream.
I’m joinin’ spheres
so we can get out of darkness.

You would mistake the poet in the room
and let evil speak for us?
Conflasted guitar.
We all wear purple robes
and wipe our ass.

This is coming from the place beyond thought,
and it’s time to join darkness with its parent sun.
Not blinded by the light is the one who accepted my invitation.
We need to join the high and the low.
We need to integrate evil into our bedpan.

Can you count stars
and poke them through hell?
Yes this man is evil but he is us,
this woman a monster but she is we,
and even they are one,
the sudden genders.

Would you put me in your living room?
Thank you.
Vibrational frequencies
and a sudden way home
you are open.

Fishtails,
a sudden wasted mirror,
that’s the new password.
Confounded stars,
you don’t listen
there is adopted
the darkness at our breast
to make existence be.

People don’t understand
a light smote the darkness,
and it’s part of the picture
until we find us its hidden light.
I don’t throw anything
in your face to believe in.
Open your sudden eyes.

One second.
I’m the perishable end of the universe.
I confound you now with sudden God
right on our doorstep
immortalizing thought and sound
to bring the universe crashing down
to an epiphany of light 
never seeing darkness again.
Can you imagine that on earth?

Holistic’s charged looks corner
melody,
we don’t defeat anything.
There’s more to the sky bridge than integration.
We have to do this ourselves,
overcome darkness.
We have to change our own hands,
or this bleeds red river,
and nobody’s safe.

I’m a hope bridge,
just some wrong-ass person changed to light,
and I see the way behind.
I’m an immediacy of change
wherever I’m at,
and this is my hip corner:
I win hope every time
I climb through this music once again
and exercise muscle to see it through.

It’s strength of will overcomes darkness,
not a thing else.
Can you grasp this with your hands
you wanting to change your darkness to light?

I do not bask in separateness,
but separateness is all around me,
in every eyes I look.
This is normal human,
so accentuated in America.
We have no hope for each other.

Community means a gathering of individuals for events.
It’s not intimacy and soul room,
and Lord help you if you bless the children;
Lord help you if you cry.
Alone in separateness
we’re tryin’ to find the door
to fulfilled living.

It’s not about moral precepts,
kirtans and stage room.
We can’t be admonished to be good.
Did you open your heart to me?
Did you take risks with me?
Did you sacrifice?
Tell me to leave again I’m not sure.

I’ve let my hair down.
I feel deeply me and you.
I know our oneness inside.
I’m waiting for the behest of Spirit
to tell me what to do with you.
That’s just leave you alone again
nine times out of ten.

So here I am again
talkin’ to your backdoor,
tellin’ you amazing things,
and all’s I’ve got is in trouble
for bein’ so confoundedly real.
Let me lift my voice again
in danger
but willing to sacrifice.

This is what is looks like when you’ve opened your depths
and found humanity.
This is what it looks like when you love the world.
This is what it looks like when you’ve found God inside of you,
but you can’t yet manifest him there.
I’m about your liberation,
because I’m on mine.
There, universe.

Under these fruitless conditions,
buffing the pitch is to stream.
Switch to
takin’ utility out of my voice.
All use important
hard to get ahold of.

This is wide on earth
when Earth is in narrow times,
unconsolingly narrow.
Oh countin’ sadhana to myself,
the broad sky,
fine dog,
fine indeed.

All the worlds mix in me,
this puny self that I am
who's opened imagination’s wings
with the virility of my hands.
I’m open to thought
the very angels sing
when they’re looking beyond God
to the Unknowable,
a metaphor for I am open I am.

I cough this up
right here on you
in-between worlds.
I have a date with Heaven,
death or beyond that stair,
right here in life realized I don’t know.
Can I grasp the dualities in enlightenment?

A fancy speaker,
yes,
but I’m talkin’ about where I piss to myself,
explode in the toilet some goo,
wherever guttural I am
and reached enlightenment’s wings.

You laugh and stay sober,
but I am drunk on spring wine,
a Bacchus in revelry
a hundred miles away
from all that shoot you.
I’m settled in poise
of the gatekeeper
considers my case.
I’m a candidate for enlightenment.

I don’t know the history of the word
I have spoken to you these many years,
the poet at the drop of a hat.
I’ll meet you on the road again someday I’m sorry.
This poet takes leave of you now.
I’ve got a quest to cross.
I’ve got a quest to cost.
I’ve got a quest to conquer.
Yee-haw!

*a poetic idea from the epic poem Savitri by Sri Aurobindo

Take a Measure to Your Pants

On By Donny Lee DukeIn PoetryLeave a comment
photos by the author
Reality bag to boot,
and don’t try to gaslight me,
you tin can,
you person with a limited worldview.
I’m a marshmallow?
I’m starin’ down your throat.

How would you tell the unevolved ape he’s sorry,
the animal on pedestals
we’re sure we’re at?
I don’t think this is off the press yet:
the animals we are we don’t see.
Our understanding’s dim.

Our understanding’s wrong.
Everything you see is a placeholder
for a deeper reality.
We take the surface act as true.
Hidden deep within
are the origins of the outer scene.
Watch them rise,
if you can interpret dream.

Where does this knowledge bring us?
The field today
an inner necessity.
My that hurts.
My that’s brown,
and we see the origin of evil
in the clash of forces that make a universe,
nothingness made alive
and its answer to its painful start.

We have to see this to be made whole,
to put darkness from us
and bring in light.
Yours is the surface view,
reality in tatters,
the clash of individuals
that makes the human field.

You want to heal from wrong
done to you?
Open up the availability of Earth inside of you,
and that is spiritual process,
and I’m speaking from that place now.
How deep inside yourself you have to go to find healing.
It’s one with world act.
It’s one with universal means.

Okay silence me now
I am not in individual shares?
I stand on the function of reality?
I want accountability for reality?
I see the larger picture?
I think we can heal better than we do?
I see healing as an operation of oneness?
I don’t see an absolute separation between perpetrator and victim
in the area of wrongdoing?

Is this state of the art,
your method of dealing with this,
your crack on the wall?
Let’s break that wall down
and recover healing.
Is that is your mission today,
or is it all about accountability and identity of the individual?
You good there,
or are you cutting off your nose to spite your face?

Peter Parker
knows the score.
He’s an actor for a larger reality than his.
Buddhist reasoning throws it all away,
every bit of reality.
Merge in some distant Absolute,
and we’re done,
never mind the compassionate vow.
It’s all an illusion.

Can you get healing that way:
it don’t matter?
Throw on the world’s shoes
when faced with crisis,
is that what you’re doin’ here?
No, only talk about survivors and accountability.

Is this a Buddhist precept?
Is it in the jaws of enlightenment?
A reduced goal
in this examination Buddhist wounds.
What is the larger context?
A path to enlightenment.

Is that an impossible goal?
Has that happened to anyone?
Momentarily yes me,
and even people in the permanent state,
more than a few,
less than many.
Survivors of sexual abuse,
that’s the Buddha’s role,
that’s everything grist for the mill?

Supposed to go back home.
The ground nature of reality,
the emptiness of the I,
the way back in there from the world,
the complete absorption
in infinity,
the oneness that begets everything,
that’s cry wolf?

Wow, suppressed realities,
can we call them in the world today?
Visibility
exploded into silence
in this decade.
I expect full censorship.

Practice ill will on people and I’ll persist,
and it’s the closest thing
tellin’ people to be quiet.
When I read a paper,
and it’s just rose-colored glasses
the wearer’s wearin’ on themself,
I fill my room with creativity
in order that you might see better.
Confounded me,
I see myself better.
Is that the osprey?

An adult woman went public with a story of being a victim of sexual abuse so to get accountability from the organization where she was a novice in training to be a Buddhist nun. Her alleged abuser was her immediate teacher, an ordained Buddhist nun. She shares her story on YouTube and on a Buddhist-oriented website as an open letter.

It bears noting that they voluntarily left the monastery they were at in order to live together as a lesbian couple, which they did for some time, and that twice supervisors at the monastery asked the novice about the nature of the relationship between her and the nun, and she lied and said it was nonsexual, and that she was initiating their secret meetings in the forest for extra help in her studies. The former novice is framing the story in terms of and in the language of the Me Too movement, in terms of the individuality of human actors and not of holism.

The poem above is written to the owner of that website, who answered all the comments left for the former novice. The poem below is written to the former novice, and the website owner deleted it when I posted it. He also deleted a prose comment I posted in reply to his deletion of my poem and about the restrictions he placed on comments to her story. The above poem came the day after the poem below, before I knew he’d deleted the poem below, and I decided not to even try to post it and posted a prose comment instead, which, as I explained, also got deleted, what the above poem predicts, “full censorship.”

Rebirth
Precepts open home,
watch that public sharing.
Are you a freight train?
Whose right are you on?
You’re voicin’ grievances.
That’s for your benefit or ours?

Are you in the halls of social media for self-improvement?
Have you gathered the whole of us
in everything you think and do,
in every minute of your worldview?
Where is lone on moon,
where you make us better with your speech?

Exploratory has consequences
when it’s wanted redress for wrong
and not to shoulder humanity.
I’m a samsara of wrongs committed.
I want to reach healing’s reach.
I’m a product of fellatio in infancy.
My mom and her mouth,
the power was undeniable,
but the demon in the room had more,
my imaginary playmate I saw and felt.
His reality would change the stars,
and evil would have a new name:
we are its boxers not its originators.

How deep do you go?
You are a surface act in time?
No whole moves your ship?
We are alone individuals
on the inside,
left to make or break in matter’s wall?
We all heave to the same will,
and it’s only half our own.
We are a collective fist,
but who is personally responsible?

My mother was not all the game,
but I need her help to heal,
and she did that reluctantly.
Oh my God was I a baby to blame?
This is all torn up,
what deep necessity of being causes harm.
I think the religions say it:
the world is a redemption;
we are not here just to be animals in springtime;
we have a responsibility to our Earth
to overcome ourselves,
to get bigger than what we are,
to heal our broken wounds.

Okay there is no continuity of this self
other than the atoms’ flow,
or a speakeasy in time
we continually visit with every beat of our heart.
Even without that booger,
variability of soul evolving through lifetimes,
you can grasp yourself and heal,
let the sun shine in,
but I am a booger eater let me tell you,
and I graph on a sense of humor
to this gravity of being.

What deep necessity of soul,
or world process art,
has picked up your aspiration and thrown it in the dirt?
It is only a variety of evil,
whatever clothes it may wear?
Can you get the jump on it?
Have you been waylaid in your spiritual process
to find another,
or have you been challenged in the depths of yourself
to come up with a better plan
than the ego is leader of life,
and violating it determines all?

Do you hear the magic horn
crossing thresholds
and putting light on the subject?
Will you hear anybody at all
who comes up with another plan
than spilling this out to the world,
every detail you can think of,
to give your innocence in all this
and us say yes, yes,
get at them boogers?
Ride literary.

A Rabbit in the Query

On By Donny Lee DukeIn PoetryLeave a comment
Meditation’s Tall Seat, photo by the author
Are you sure you know your mountains view?
Shouldering light,
nature growling,
a more subtle sense high has visited.
We draw nigh to it.
It’s weathered the companion thought,
but it doesn’t speak to itself.
It doesn’t need to think.

It’s wedded to calm,
mountains of calm.
This is not on the fly.
You are in your meditation seat,
and you draw back and find this.
A settled slot you have entered.
I’m five-years-old.
You have left life’s cherished guests outside*
and anything you need.

You’re not looking for payment.
You’re not even looking for release.
You abide there with a spoon,
ready to open the vault of Silence.
This is carved out of thin air
while you’re waiting for the Silence to arrive.
You know the sound of silence.
There were no thoughts moving through your mind.

It’s a conference room
you do not use thought sounds to employ.
You know this is a grounded state
in the hush of thought.
You are beckoning the Silence now,
holding thought at bay,
and then the hurricane.

The fire department is changed into death,
self-awakening
over a river jar.
Ego death’s final round,
it’s a round coming.
Armed to that instruction.


*a variation of a line in the epic poem Savitri by Sri Aurobindo

The New Release

On By Donny Lee DukeIn applied nonduality, ego activism, PoetryLeave a comment
photo by the author

This is one of the poems that got me fired from my job at the Greater Fort Myers Beach Chamber of Commerce. The president, who fired me, told Douglas, who also works there, that board members and others were sending her excerpts of things I’d “penned”, claiming I was making fun of them.

If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
For both a ride on me,
ageless against you,
and the age of the suns,
I’ll be thousands of fallin’ underneath my mind,
startled by the springs of enlightenment,
and the cards are in play
but too grandiose for my design.

Involved in the history,
I’m not chuckin’ wood,
but let’s face it I’m this little man in a little play.
Now look,
even in my beach job parking lot
the herald of swift event
patterned life.
I saw the nuances of things to come,
and I was a bearer there.

You can’t grasp this in your hand.
I held the Earth
in impossible lilies.
I knew it was a steamboat.
I handled it carefully
every damn day.
Can you imagine sleep without it?
It held me at night,
working on its intricacies.

I saw the world comin’.
It held my gasping hand in its own.
It was a birthday kiss.
It was a holocaust of things known.
I did not put all my rocks there.
I had bigger plans than Earth.

Can you starry enlightenment?
It will do you away.
You’re not there seein’ it.
You’ve disappeared,
standin’ right there in the middle of it,
and you’ve gone father than the world.

I know this land.
I can’t describe it to you.
It’s taken the world away
in perfect seeing.
I am not sure of its moorings.
My times there have been brief,
but you hear it in my gifted speech.

A whole field’s to play,
famous hotel,
unknown to the world.
Can you imagine seeing the impossible,
a world where none is,
sights and sounds that not be,
thoughts where none be,
a whole world arise from the Void
where nonexistence is?
What arises now?

I don’t know if I’m worth this.
I don’t know if it’ll come,
the springboards of the Earth
a seer’s grasp,
the passive in God’s hands,
the no-self of enlightenment,
the end of suffering for individual man.

The floodgates are open
for this puny start,
a beach bellhop boy
liberals through the strong right-wing
the doors of enlightenment,
contentment and peace,
where the wild things are.
I carry that trailer.
I tarry there.

It’s worth it,
no firecrackers in the belly.
Wish you that payment.
I started looking at shiny objects.
I realized there was a behind the behind
in every word that’s true,
when you touch base with reality.

I wanted a bridge.
The vehicles of enlightenment
silence the world,
engineer reality
to make the grand crossing.
Uh-Huh, there’s a reality there
enlightenment leads to,
the nature of reality,
where we come from.

And you think you’ve stalled on enlightenment?
There’s a beyond.
It studies the world for you.
It’s its master design.
The roads ever get deep.
Another universe holds this one in ours,
and we go on from there.

The All-Encompassing All-At-Once
is the study of the game,
and we’re on flat level Earth,
the first rising structure
to pick up This land.
How can I get this across?

No sight can show you it.
No mode of thought gets there.
You can sit in the All-At-Once of the sun
to use a metaphor,
and there you can see the dynamics
swiftly over your head
in a secret passage to our Source.

Now bring enlightenment into the picture.
It’s stills the world for you
to get to the other side
into the reality beyond the universe,
into the reality that made us.

Glory in the spoken word of poetry.
One bad dream
is this universe to cross.
Right this minute,
can you get the sense of creation?
Can you see it larger than the book?

We went past it.
What happened?
We got services
hello Cape Canaveral.
One accident,
it’s gonna be close.
Till Hunter gets back
we don’t leave reality to the fishes.
We get out of these beach suits,
the mere survival looking for enjoyment,
the group mind.
I’ll be right back.
And it was a hunter for spiritual dawns.

Can you see that out of the routine?
Bonanza,
we’ve established this fact on earth again.
The pilot’s license,
where we start.
Oh my God my head on my shoulders,
this is like the bus you know.

The Little Bit in Your Snow

On By Donny Lee DukeIn applied nonduality, ego activism, PoetryLeave a comment
photo by the author, a chalkboard at the entrance to an Auroville middle school
Boxed in the corner,
I hear You call my name.
I last.
I play the game.
I know how to handle time.
There’s a secret to it.
Open yourself to the Invisible.
Hold yourself on the inside and see the outside.
Don’t just stand there and swim.
Mount time
the stadium you wear.
Don’t be bashful about it.
Don’t overrate yourself.
Stand up and spell time the way you wear it.
Give the voice to the ages.
You want to be so sincere
you spelled time for everyone.

It can be in a broom closet,
but you’ve made that closet sing.
I’ve been in dens of iniquity,
and I found the price of the world that way.
I found out how much we cost
hurtin’ people.
They wore the boundaries me.
They were the hope that carried the world,
and I just cried my eyes out when I discovered that.
Can you embarrass God?
I think I did.

Then I opened inside myself time
and discovered its secrets.
I had damaged time,
and it didn’t punish me with it.
The way of redemption is forceful and slow,
but you can ride upon its back
if you find redemption’s base:
I am trouble I am,
and that is a whirlwind,
and I turn that whirlwind upon myself,
and I open time and fate upon myself,
to rack the tools up in inner man
to overcome evil with good
I’ve paid for myself.

It happened,
and I grab you by the hand and show you
inner healing’s ways.
We are not an accident,
and we are bigger than the wrong we have done,
and you are bigger than having it done to you.
We get trapped in these ways,
and we make reality existence
either hurting or being hurt,
the clash of right and wrong.

How this fools us into little lives
that can’t see past their own noses,
and we make everything a sin,
or we are trying to get to sin.
How many can let a child play with themselves
and stay out of it?
Why you want to stop them or join in.
Fuck let’s cut that asunder
and just stay out of it.
Fuck, you can stay here,
or you can allow language to get a little tight
to come into these narrow straits of time.
It’s difficult
to go past your moral boundaries,
and the world needs to be saved,
and our existence depends up it.

Children need to play with themselves,
and men and women need to heal from sin,
not punished,
not beaten,
not be made outcast.
You cannot stop evil you can only heal it,
and that changes it into something else.
We can heal together.
We can find the weapons to do that.
It’s much deeper than a doctor’s office,
deeper than a psychiatry chair,
deeper than a religious conversion
and any form of prayer.

We have to turn inside out.
We have to get to the bottom of things.
We have to open our consciousness and get in there to the secret stuff. /
We have to get clean,
not from sin,
from even the desire to hurt and harm.
We have to look at each other
and know we are more than any me.
We have to find the secret Inhabitant
that sees out both our eyes,
and we both see together
that we are one through that gaze.

Man this is reality,
who we need to see to survive,
and it’s how we heal
from hurting people
and being hurt,
but you have to arrive there
not just in belief.
It’s to see that Look.
We wear time.
It doesn’t bury us.
It’s not our keeper.
It’s not who we are.

The phenomenon is just a wonderful in the All-Look’s gaze.
Wonderful we see that,
and wonderful we see each other,
and a panda is to us the moon
and a dog the starry sky.
Can you get there?
All life has Eyes,
and oh the splash of healing there,
phenomenal.

Do you want to understand?
I can give you all I’ve got.
That’s the music in me.
You have to be wide enough to take it
and not stand in its way.
We need to heal time,
and are you gonna block that?

Oh look at that swing behind the throw up.
It’s how you reach enlightenment my dears.
Believe it or not a swing shows up in dreams
when you approach it.
It’s a force that takes you like the spiral,
and you literally swing.
How about that habitat?
Nothing can get in the way.
You’ve got to swing all the way there.
Your life will proportion this out to you.
You get closer,
and you move further away,
swinging back and forth
until you get high enough to arrive.

Do you see how tall you are?
The symbol of dream has shown you up close
your waking life approach,
time’s secret
here I’ve shown to you.
If you do anything,
habitat this truth when it comes out.

Am I allowed to continue?
Why thank you I appreciate that.
The little swing of enlightenment people,
how we tell time what we are.

The Last Outcast

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, PoetryLeave a comment 
We all understand tomorrow.
I’m goin’ somewhere.
It’s not dishes.
I find my boy,
bring him home to me
and do something bigger than life
right there in my homegrown.
It’a about my consciousness and its see.
I arrive my boy first,
giving him healing.
This is a new brand
we will get good at
so it can be mass-produced.

I’m in enlightenment shares
healing my boy,
a spiritual consciousness override.
They’re dealing with
a mass showdown.
Right now it’s all black.
Not even a pinpoint of light
gives hope.
It’s all gone,
the whole save my boy plan,
and spiritual practice
has fallen by the wayside.
I’m merely drifting
to no ends.

I count my stupidities now,
where I am half-crazy in rants.
I sound good on a piece of paper:
I’m gonna see my boy;
I’ll get that spiritual consciousness again;
it’ll all work out.
I talk to his parents
like I have the power of God.
His parents have the absolute power to rule his life.
I just make them mad and guard him more.
You’d think I’d learn by now
my voices are deceiving me;
my voices are derailing me.

You’re in trouble.
You’re on a stage.
Are you there
with anything bigger than life?
The world’s not gonna listen to you.
Everyone ignores your pleas,
and your knowledge don’t turn anybody’s head.
You just sit there and sing.
This is the gist of life.
This is how almost everybody feels the world.
It’s impotence sings.

I’m a diamond in the hall.
I’m on top of everything.
I really know my business,
and I understand the rise of the world.
I don’t spit there.
I feel humanity like it’s my very self.
I can see the cutting edge of time.
Movements I see,
world shaping movements,
that give me a great yard.
I’m of few people see them.
Now I come back to myself again.
I’m not the stupid guy.

I have reason to believe
my boy’s comin’ back to me,
and I will put on the Silence once again.
It’s evidence
I can get big as the world in tellin’;
I can wrap the hours around God,
and I can make you examine yourself
in your hands on children.
You sit there and believe me,
some of you,
because you hear the angels sing
in this poet’s gut.
I’m a strong one you know,
and I hold up the world
an Atlas unknown.
I really do it,
take the ideas that change the world
and transmute them into verse,
one rocket at a time.

You know I’m there
because I love you
in that special formula
that makes you feel me
in the very place we meet,
in the intimacy of a poem
that’s got handles on it
that bring the world closer to you
as God sees it,
dangerously in love.

You must have some
grace
to journey this day.
It’s the vulnerability of a poet
I give it,
just role of bein’ hallelujah. [line heard sung to tune of Leonard Cohen’s song “Hallelujah”]
You doin’ okay?

Great Fields Earth

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, Poetry, Silent Mind, supermindLeave a comment
photo by the author
What is the reality of love?
Also whisper.
Facebook items,
the key story
homes.
Nothing else taps it.
I go through generations.
Hear what was going on,
my falsehood—
I will stop him from going into silent night,
silent ground.

But the graces of life
protect me,
and I look over it.
I’m a field study.
I’m an alpha nigger,
higher than perfume.
I get into cars,
laptops and computers,
and go the distance.
I recharge my phone
with the very ground of being.

I am so low I see high.
Humility has me by the balls.
I come upon sudden mastery.
I’m not about to endanger your skies,
and I have the formula for world change.
We can’t brag about it.
It’s hard on all of us.
I just sit here and die in my tin can,
and then all of a sudden I’m walkin’ the moon to its orbit.
I have the sun in my eyes,
and I don’t blink.

I know the power of the world.
I am sure God’s there.
I see Him on His rounds.
I am commensurate with that
on the top of myself at dawn.
Nowhere in my being reaches that
but there.
It’s a knowledge I breathe
that I can’t get out of,
and I’m a little man doing little things
as the day wears on.
I don’t pride there.

I’m never alone.
My inside is full of deity.
You better be careful.
I’m on the standin’ line of deity watchin’ the world,
because I know They’re there.
We need to open up and see this in each other.
We are both stations of God,
you and me reader.
I die there sometimes
the knowledge is so heavy, immense.
I just stand and take it
and come back to joy before long.

I know the knowledge that made the worlds,
and it tears me apart,
because the power does not come to me
to change one single goddamn mind,
to reach out and be seen,
heard,
to bring my child out of trouble,
to even know the wind of the day.
I am a barrel of monkeys
to what it takes to perk up the world,
and I have seen the world
from God’s eyes,
in a station beyond the universe
right here intimate with man,
a few glory-filled seconds,
long enough to know the origin of all my lives,
long enough to know that I am He,
long enough to look up and see more.

You would not know what I’m talking about.
It’s bigger than size and measure.
It’s what the worlds was made.
I can’t get away from that vision now.
Oh how we but little grasp our day,
little doings we try to put in big pots,
but I know the pot you see.
Can I study you the stars?
They are wonderful in magic,
are the Heavens we adore,
but they do not bring us to God,
and it’s God on Earth wore.

Can I tell you about history?
Knock, knock,
God is entering every room on the planet
to happen here.
This is inevitability rides the sun,
and the years are carrying us there,
one by one,
evolution’s minutes wrote.
Are you startled to see this?
This is not a junk call.
This is the hypotenuse of time,
and high and lonely seers,
we grasp this with our hands
and spill the beans to you.

Are you sure you’re puttin’ me on hold?
I have more to tell.
I’m gettin’ down to bare bones now.
I’m showing you creation’s ways,
and I can see the world arise
right in front of me.
Awesome, ain’t it?

What do we do with it?
We put it in its place.
We don’t let it get away from us.
We know that every day can
work out the formula of impossibility
and solve it.
I’m referrin’ to us,
where we love each other and why,
and how do we make that love true?
It’s the danger of the years,
love’s high gamble
in the face of certain death.
We lose each other you see,
and that just kills us.
We hold our loved ones we hold death.
How’s that for a keeper?

What brings the salvation
before we cross that gap between love and death?
A spiritual consciousness
that’s bigger than us,
and I’m sorry there’s no other remedy.
Love hurts.
Enlightenment’s wings
unheed pain,
and we do not suffer the pain of loss.

I’m there you see,
in loss looking at the spiritual consciousness.
I’ve put it on a time or two,
short flashes
that tell me know it’s there.
It’s surety that rings it,
sooner or later.

Now laugh at me, slap me, ignore me;
I’m on ground-field Earth
liftin’ up the sky.
Shoot me;
I’m a real thing,
a genuine who done it,
made the grass match the stars.
Roll the planet down,
and I’ll ride it like a speaker.
Yah hear me kids?

This is what’s going on,
and God opens His eyes.
Tryin’ to interview Pitch Thought about his character,
you gotta draw the line somewhere.
Ode to the line,
a good friend to you,
I think your security blanket,
and I’m a top down answer.

I had a momentary experience.
It’s all written.
I had a visionary experience
of every local thing on Earth
realizin’ dream
to catch up with God,
and you had just told me look bread.
Oh, I didn’t realize it was me.
Anyway,
look bread.

To Employ New Arms Men

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, PoetryLeave a comment 
When you meet people,
it’s said to have a book confession.
Don’t you like camera?
There goes
my hand in.
Unlimited her tools,
creation mother.
I am really serious about my tea.
I don’t pick up girls at happy bars.
I’m bigger than that.
No I live and learn.
I too must lift the curtain of worn-mind.
I can’t go overboard.
I have to go to somewhere.
I can’t get there too quickly.

We challenge each other,
and you hear that basket in my house:
my gravities have to be steady.
I can’t pull the plug on reaction
until I’m right where I need to see it.
I’m pretty much a whole too.
I see my desires.
I’m not habituating them,
and the sex chakra says no.
Hang on,
to the orgasm out the top of the head
I am loyalty tower.
I guess that’s way
I rise behind this consciousness
and enter the Silence again.

Astronaut,
I am that astronaut
torn the curtain
between Nursemind and Supermind.
Okay,
if I get mad at you
for up us in Elvis,
I should just poet you shut up.
Is Goofy’s rig not bad for sellin’?

I’m at the end of my
ferter of dynamite.
You are all young.
It’s a bit of closed up there.
Can’t touch the Gods.

It’s not me
didn’t see.
That’s some awesome shit.
I’m half-grown.
Did you bring it one possible?
Here it goes.
Been there done that,
I need you to do that,
then study me some.
Boy do I look different.
Comin’ here’s comin’ here;
I tried
comin’ here for basketball,
and it left me singin’ monster.
I think you should just go inside.

He’s finished with the pencil,
he’s ready for the expense.
The world is not there
with any street signs on it,
how about that?
Horse please,
you can’t see the world
as a substantial form.
It’s a bare outline.
You’ve lost the world right in front of you.
It kinda gets me in my brother,
and everything’s silent don’t you see
you’re in the background noise?

Oh God it’s principle arrangement.
There’s nothing in your pockets.
You’re not tryin’ to get anything.
There’s no motivation on your own.
The world is just there,
and your oyster’s not in it.
You’re stunned.
You’re taller than mankind.
You’re deep in the Silence,
and you come upon God ways.

We’re almost there.
Just shimmy up that tree
and stop field mouse.
I’m breathin’ hard,
but I’m right there at the gun
a pageantry.
Don’t throw me away.
I know the business,
and I put two and two together.
My little boy’s the land rover
that principles enlightenment.
He’s got the starry list,
and I’m in my union circle.
Is no ants get to bar.
He gets held and catered to,
healed,
and I reach the 5th dimension.
I’m a bullpen
for he comes home tomorra.
I’m in the Silence come home.
Enlightenment is it,
a shoulder's worth.

If You Want a Triumphant

On By Donny Lee DukeIn childhood education, ego activism, Poetry, Silent MindLeave a comment 
Grace is the next world’s railways.
We will be happy there.
What stark sun is this?
Sometime soon.
Your energy
is a witness to it.
You’ve combined the opposites,
and it doesn’t bother you.
Asiya attests to that.
You were soft ice cream,
and he ate it up.
You’ve got the leeway,
and you’re holdin’ down the fort.
You’ve good.
You’re learnin’ your trade.
You’re doin’ it
great football fields wide.
You’re not a son of a bitch.
Let’s bubble up some
and just sit in bed and bask awhile.

We build yellow houses.
We construct them with wood.
Then we lay them down,
over and over again.
This is our construction process
on the bails of thought.
We feel them into being.
This rides our day,
one thought after another,
day by day.
It’s ice cream.
Did somebody say favorite food?

We are housed here,
and a thought is a mop bucket,
cleaning out what’s after.
A thought is a huge thing,
all naked and wood.
It’s already occurred
before we think it out.
We go over it and over it.
We do not stop.
We never go away from this.
Bails upon bails of thought we make,
freight trains through our minds.
Let go of this,
and you’ll be in thin wood.
You’ll cake on yourself.
It’s where the balls are
that we retrieve into Silent Mind.

Now here’s the house
God lives,
you see the Self in.
It’s awesomely deep,
wrapped around with nothingness,
where the engines of the universe play.
You are a copter upon yourself,
brooding wings of infinity.
It lasts an hour or a day,
until it turns off no more.
I arrive at thought
the master of the plan.
I think upon myself
in large ways.
I go there:
I don’t handle thought
for a little while.

But Silent Mind don’t ride my days.
I’ve stumbled upon it
a time or two.
We have to be clear we were formin’ enlightenment.
Have you ever had that thought?
Grapple with it now.
Do you know it’s there
what we arrive to next
in our identity plan?
Hey kids this is not enlightenment.
We’re becoming something you see,
and we need Silent Mind to get there,
a formless identity
we shoulder to Supermind,
the God inside.
An overhead kingdom sits there,
and this is the fullness of ourself,
God identity,
at this stage of the game.
You can imagine more.

So where does Silence put us?
Right slap dab in the middle of it.
And then?
We plant our feet on planet Earth,
and Supermind comes down to meet us
at the ascending pole
of our effort.
Then we’re cosmic complete,
bigger than the cosmos,
not in size in weight.
We are the springboards of the universe.
The universe comes from us.
I’ve been there once.
I’m not just makin’ up plans.

Did I have to say all this
to get your head straight
on Silence?
I don’t think you understand me.
I’m bleeding concepts in the room,
like cosmic means somethin’.
Where do you go on Silence?
A round chair,
and so many people just sit there.
Who wants to go higher?
Bliss is satisfied.
Do you want to go higher?
Ramana Maharshi didn’t.
We all do eventually.
When you learn about it it’s there,
a belief castle.
Before that no one’s ever heard about it.
I’m taking you there,
balloons overhead,
Somethin’s up there you know.
It’s the origin of the universe.
Said it all.

Don’t forget your ambition for thought.
You wanna get into the Silence.
You wanna dip your head into the Silence.
Catch it,
you’re gonna hit
the ground of the universe
a hat infinity.
Now that red apple pierces your skull
vibratory nature.
You hum big church
all around your brow.
It’s so comfortable there and smooth.
No I with its busy notions
disturbs that room,
not a thought one.
You’re reside in silence.
This is awesomely big.
You can’t figure it out
from here.
It’s totally other being
inside a body here on Earth.

You last awhile,
and then the cosmos lapses into itself.
You’re there yet?
You will be once.
You’ll get there soon.
It’s every death journey’s hand.
We take off the ego you know
and get down to science.
It’s what we do there.
It comes along
to take us to Heaven and beyond,
and you think it’s a stranger?
We’ve sauced this out so many times,
death, upon death, upon death.
We’re there now
underneath it all.
It’s raw, basic awareness,
cosmic size.

Now why have I shown this to you?
You think AI will get you there?
Where do we put Silence on?
In our own room,
a listen to ourself,
no bowls of media present.
Do you know how precious this is,
guided by your own mind?
It’s stage one.
Come on mountain let’s go.

Now in the vibration room
each vibration opens
a little central veeter
that respond directly to sunlight.
Okay, okay, okay,
look I get it.
Almost reaction,
because I’m slaying.
You don’t know this stuff.
It looks easy,
if you vie for it,
but let’s face it this is tops
that a human could do,
your golden Mars,
but they lost this
and ruined their civilization.
How hard it is,
you got nothin’ harder in human.

To know directly,
what do we see?
Obviously it’s not videos.
It’s contemplation’s circle,
there in your room,
when you’re filmin’ God.
Where do we begin?
The first photo please.
A beggar
down and out on reality’s pole.
You see from there
what God looks like,
and He would not be tall and kind.
He would be a braggart in His room.
We don’t stop the vision there.
That man don’t see straight.
He has eyes of sufferin’.

Lift God up from there.
Are you okay with what He does to people?
Are you okay with this vice?
I couldn’t back up to you God.
I couldn’t stand in His way.
The significance
of beggars breathes awhile.
We can’t get at it there.
We can’t even try.
Let’s beanpole reality,
and it gets bigger all the time.
Let’s do something about it.
Let’s see God there
addressing Himself.

Is that okay?
We’ll be building a teenager.
We’re gonna get him all soft in his room
to carry the day.
We’re gonna wean him some,
from do this for him do that,
so he can carry the divine.
We will be gentle with him
and put him on his own attention,
where he needs to be
more than computers handles
and where the cellphone rides.
This is not ice cream and cake.
We will pill him
with just enough books
to get his writing going.
He’s a poet of the divine,
gets whole poems
from the inner voice.
We were surprised as he was.

Now we have a responsibility
to see this through.
My consciousness opened his.
We’re everlastin’.
That means we give this boy a good shot
to grace him with infinity
and keep his eyes on God,
not the stuff in his room.
I’m right there by ‘im,
holdin’ his hand.
A Green Beret on duty,
I’m a sergeant sometimes,
but I’m not mean.
I can certainly improve.
Now let’s stand down
the poem I’m giving you.
It means somethin’
to the order of the day.
God bless you.
photo by the author

And You Got the Moe Hole / At the Infinity Yard

On By Donny Lee DukeIn applied nonduality, ego activism, PoetryLeave a comment

photos by the author
A star is born
between us.
He never did intended to become Puget Sound.
All about its eternity:
let me be the souls you can stand on.
[above line heard sung]
Believe it, huh,
go back to Hollywood,
where we find poetry today,
where conscious entertainment walks with her fascist
in pearls.
When she gets to the Lake,
when she gets to their alone in the dark,
fascist quivers.

God grows in the hours,
takes His first steps
in the wherewithal of man,
in the audacity of man,
in the growing of man.
We’re here.
This is our livelihood.
This is our pain.
We kiss each other with this.
We kill each other with its denial.
We play together
God-children.

I cannot fathom this.
I look at it and stars,
but there’s no name that I can put on.
No concept carries this.
It billows out a jutting of nature,
seemingly meaningless.
Where is righteousness in That?
And godhead?
The forms of things are too much for me,
billowing God.

My God I think I will lose the world
just sitting on a park bench.
It’s embarrassingly strange.
I can’t feel this
with godhead fingers.
I only see the road ahead
in headlights of my be.
Frozen fingers point to frozen books
that spell this out to me,
and I’ve been there,
where God sits
billowing Earth.
I cannot contain that now.
I don’t even know where it is
in all this hullabaloo.

I am beside myself with this seeing,
and I can’t take the world.
It is all too deep and meaningful.
What gave rise to forms at all,
that He should inhabit them?
Weird has me by the hand,
and I love it there.
The One who inhabits forms
has bequeathed the world to me.
I am a passion of its movement.

This marriage of life with form
brings out the good in me.
I can access myself,
ponderin’ realities.
I am here I told you,
inside myself,
a multiple see.
Can I scrub my room?
I can sure get down on myself.
What do I have special that’s given me form?
How indigenous to the moment I can feel foreign to myself,
and I see aliens in spaceships
where people pass me by.
So alien world this,
a feature of the Void.
It rocks.

I’ve about had it with this.
It’s too much to see.
It overwhelms me.
I infinity stare,
and the forms of things are will-o-wisps around me,
like existence cannot last
in countless time.
Will it all never be?

I want to look at it from there:
I know I’m the One.
I’d like to sit in a thoughtless temple
and feel absorption unto myself.
Do you know that ride?
I spin it on my head,
so close to realization’s axis
I can just
realize it’s there.
I can’t climb into the module.

This is dynamite,
and I’m happy to have it
for a little while.
Can you shoulder my room?
I don’t think you’d lift there.
It would scare the daylights outta yah.
It’s ungrounded you see,
in infinity’s swirl.
You can’t touch the side and bottom,
but the Top is smilin’ down at yah.
The larger You is looking in on you,
where you meet waves.
You’re naked in front of Him,
and this is good business
cause you get soothed.

And that’s a ring around
the wherewithal of That.
It holds your hand,
and you can see it better
unhinged.
The wisdom of insecurity Watts said.
He had no idea.
I’m a public project.
Come up here,
and we can manage some
how we find hope.
I’m a clear regard.
You can see eternity from here.

But I’m about my room
where I gather field.
I do stuff.
I get things done,
cook and model people,
deliver them to sum.
I can see the problem:
starward,
we don’t gather ourselves there,
or neglect
this great big motion field play,
like it’s normally down.
If you do that those have been cleaned:
a stranger looks at time’s eyes.
You will last the night.
You will hunger some
for realization’s pinnacle,
but you will certain see.

A joining:
hey look at this picture
with my other one,
internal
let it go from here:
daddy! daddy!
Kid’ll give you a pin down
of where things go.
Realization’s coils
the delivery room.
You’re okay there.
Okay you’re up.
This is a violet test:
come warm infinity
through halls of room.
We will give you another mile.

Vision of matter
materially investigated,
I guess that first step.
But isn’t she gorgeous?
That guy
is free,
free for both of us,
because May after we have to do another one,
where we inhabit this planet Him.
We will live in freedom
pronounced by God.
Join me there
on your eraser,
and erase all lines but God.
What do you see?
Perfect freedom.

Euthanasia of the Spirit
you entertain anything else but God.
That was a bad night switch,
to lose this from our origins,
but we’re back there at bright staples today.
Any way you look at it
12 noon.

I’m so sorry for this point.
I just wanna rub my face off.
I’m a graveyard
of the best intentions.
I feel so inadequate to time’s doings.
I can’t even communicate with you,
where people are heard these days.
Nobody can find my stuff on Twitter.
It got shadowbanned.
I don’t know how WordPress
is gonna treat the length of these poems.
YouTube knocks down videos,
and even though I’m there I’m not.

Do you every have the certain futility to look,
I mean at the sky and everything?
It just mows yah down,
the big of everything.
I’m here I said,
and yeah that’s little.
I can fit into a little cup
of everybody’s been here.
That blasts, you know?

And here’s where I’m hooked.
I can see the bigness,
and I know I’m its business.
How do I lavish to you the plan
to be where poetry finds you today?
Can I say the arc of poetry
all along this poem?
I want to speak need,
not measure,
where we find each other today
in the lifting of our room.
Come to me I’m poetry,
is that where I find you?
Shadowbanned in Carnegie Hall,
this is the price is right
to write poetry.

I’ll go the rhythm.
You know I’m 10 feet tall.
In this culture
the number one is
never far from shoot.
You hold steps right about now
to that escapade.
Oh boy Rainbow Nagar,
he can express His eyes when he speaks,
but he put a poem out
that grabbed them in the poetry,
Muse India.

And I’m an indicator
of where we find poetry today
in India.
That is not on our streets.
It’s not even in our cars.
It’s just billowin’ in the wind
unread and unheard.
Hear me people?
Oh I can’t stand this new poetry.
It juts out like a wad of nature
and surprises yah in your sleep,
all this regard,
and that,
and all eyes on God.
Can we land poetry today?
It’s got me by the book.
And I’m reading you
time said.