This is a work of poetry, all names, characters, and incidents viewed through that art lens, and the whole shall not be judged by any part, because it speaks in representation and gives characters their voice, / who's liable to say anything, and the author's there to sort things out if you just wait a minute dew. That's the shouting line, even if you think censorship's top dog. I got your number. It's hangin' on this book what offends you.
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.
I don’t know I think freedom is dangerous. It gives us a timetable to revolutionize society. So we need to? Did Trump invade Poland? (like, does a bear shit in the woods?) We have no greater need in society, but this is not about politicians. It has our housewares on it, our everyday lives. We need to change society into what’s good for all, into a whole nuther way of life, where we can live out our potentials and be ourselves.
That dose not include harming other people, unless their harm is so immediate to harm them now is the only way to stop it, deadly force if necessary, but you would kill me here. They’re not death penalty do or given any harm that protecting us does not render. These are separation lists if this is another set of circumstances other than the absolutely must be stopped now, and here’s where we need to change: every person’s valuable in our eyes, has the right to be and coexist, and no person is excluded from this list.
It is only there we can find ourselves in our worth. We have potentials unknown, unguarded, and unguessed. We are not here to swat flies. Our purpose in living is beyond time, but let’s get back to the wood, shall we?
We are larger than ourselves. We do not live in a bubble of individual freedom. Our consciousness extends to the whole race and includes the Earth in its habitat. We share consciousness, and our thoughts and our dreams ride the waves of humanity’s spleen-basket. We touch each other there.
Any investigation will prove it over long, slow years. A group of people living together will prove it, who bear the remembrance of their dreams and inner experiences on a daily basis, through their group. Interpret your dreams is the first thing, and this puts us back to square one. No one can see this part of the shared field of consciousness occurring between us every day. It’s in symbols. It’s not readily apparent except in rare instances. It’s not literal.
How can I interpret my dreams for you? Can I speak ahead of my time? We will see each other’s dreams tear humanity down and make a better humanity with it all in good time. We will see that the thought creates the act, our thoughts in someone else’s action, and we are at most fault here, not understanding the collective will bleeds harmful individuals as much as it does those who are right.
We die here. We lay blame here. We have no idea what’s goin’ on. We castigate we confuse. We are not in ourselves right. You share identity with that larger man. On the level of ourselves we are one. Even in our individual consciousness we bear the individuality of the whole. We share identity like we do rivers. This is visible as the Self you can even see in your mind, play with in your heart, before the change of consciousness ahead.
We are not here to remain the same. We have duty to change our very nature. We are animals now in a field, in a pack. Herds upon herds of us distinguish man as nothing in particular except the animal that lords over all, destroys its planet with so many feeding spaces. It’s not a steward but a wrecker of its planet and society.
Go into any home. Animals lick their wounds, feed and enjoy themselves and prepare their young to abstract survival as they have done into the modes of man. We do not create a larger type. We make our children toe the line of being human today. We have no imagination ahead. We can’t get our children there, break out of this mold of stupid us.
We have larger fields ahead, ever preparing their day to come. Very few heed that call. Religion has been a placebo convincing us we’re there. You can work on yourself every day and never find it. It’s bigger than the moon and the starlight, but you can get there from here. Anyway, you have to make of your daily life a pilgrimage to discover all that’s hidden inside, to look at the outside in those discoveries, the glasses of change, and become yourself the larger man, a lifetime’s endeavor. That is not bound by belief. You experience, you know, and you move forward.
There are changes in consciousness ahead. You will meet the Silence, eventually, and it’s within your arms to discover the soul inside. The roof overhead, you will break in time, and the seat of your consciousness, your experiencing self, will fountain out of the top of your head into unknown regions, into the larger field above. We are in a clockwork universe it’s possible to see beyond. It’s possible to get up there for a limited time only. Several seconds have exposed this poem.
Now what do I do to climb out of words and show you my tattoo? We have another field man. We have to change inside our makings, so much representative think, so much put on the feelings of others, so much be ourselves and not society’s notion of us or even our family’s. Can you get that?
You know you have inside so much more than go to work, go home, and there and back again, than a craver for society’s wares, than an eating machine, than any enjoyment you have, and you know you are bigger than society puts you down.
Where are the handles on this? You can’t find them. This is too big. A caveman has come and talked to industrialized society, to use an analogy how far we are from the larger field of man. I’m showin’ yah the wares. You begin to live your life differently than for a paycheck, or for all these things you want, or for solely your enjoyment, or even for your kids, parents, and spouse, for your loved ones, but in every field I’ve mentioned, you can make that the starting point for your self-discovery. You make that your means to go home. You can do it there, in normal life, by making of yourself a pilgrimage to discover that greater you, to find that larger us, to change society in its very moving parts.
I’m not way off base. I’m right here in your hand revealin’ life. Stupid me, I go through weather patterns, you know? I’m not enlightenment yet or the higher consciousness. I have vision inside, and I get visited by great thoughts all day long. I move through the world tryin’ to make my thoughts reality. They come across as these poems. I’m a slug in a handbasket you know, in that basket spaceship Mother Earth, a sluggin’ it with you homey.
I can’t get out of this wood, but I’m practicin’ sureness in it we’re gonna get there. I can see it now, but I got hit on my bicycle by a car, and I’m laid up, hold up, an invalid temporary. Now that hurts. The damn VA won’t give me any pain medication, but they’re okay, treated me nice, commendable actually. I don’t gotta go to work for today. I was on my way to work when it happened. Stupid car, didn’t see the sidewalk. Now I can paint you poems free and easy, since that car stepped in and made the universe prove, for today’s papers, need as poet more than Mr. Grocery boy. Halleluja, huh?
Look in a thousand years. We will be larger than wood. We’ve got so much work to do that we haven’t started yet. Fine, fine, meditate, practice all these roles of spirituality, but it’s in your hands you try to find the roles inside. Can you meditate while you’re doin’? Bake that field. Make the field in front of you God, that person, that task, and there’s the secret to longevity of the changes you make. Hold a representative consciousness inside, everywhere you look, everywhere you turn around, in all your life’s tasks, at rest and at play. You’re seein’ God outta do it. Overhead that’s who you are inside.
Can I graft this to trees? God is the All-Look in on itself, the real behind the apparent, the one he be looked to for change. I can get lost in words. God is our plan. An unknowable All-Mystery grabs us all in personal sleeves. Who-Done-It, my God that’s good. We love a good mystery. We love to be sleuth.
Now hold my hand. I’ve got so much more to show you than time. I love those feelins. Even my Luna’s the great One, but that goddamn car, I’m workin’ on that one. It hurts you know. Alright hand me down sleeves. I know how to put you on at night, goddamn in bed with the world learnin’ duty, learnin’ price. The world goes deep, you know? The world goes wide. It’s fine. Even my dog says so, and she’s on the rag. I just go too far in world faculty.
Pissin’ all over the place, that’s the modes of man. We are primitive land seekers, and we don’t know where we’re goin’. Let’s arrive at peace on earth is our greatest notion, or live in harmony with the Earth. We don’t have a sense of ourselves an evolving species from man to a higher type. Oh my God, I just hit science in the nose. It’s stuck in material process and can’t even interpret our dreams yet, or know that we inhabit consciousness together, because it can’t see that far. In animal vision, in animal man, we can’t get over ourselves or see that larger field, or even get there. Put bubbles in place, we can’t swim out of them. Can you?
Interactive city, let’s ride some fences, shall we? What names did I give you to believe in? I’m givin’ you wide open stuff I’m not anchorin’ down. I want you to believe in yourself in your higher type. That’s the coming messiah, if you’re lookin’ for saviors. It’s you and me and every last one of us, takin’ these conscious springs of evolution, a field of human consciousness has given us, and evolvin’ don’t you see? A gospel of everybody, don’t you see that yet?
Put representative bowls in place, I’m lifted change. I got rid of my sweetheart, a robbin’ piece of flesh. I don’t need it anymore, even in fantasy, even in the attraction pull. I was not normal down there. I wasn’t gay either. I see the mystery pull, and I changed my life to prove it. Now what do you get down there if you’re not bothered with it? You don’t get a hole. There are ecstasies beyond this world in a much deeper field of play. There are ecstasies down there attached to nobody, all along the chakra-spine, and your body can be in orgasm shooting you out the top of the head.
You sexual spider-cake, you’re not bein’ life itself. You’re fooled by nature’s cravings to continue the species and get some craving relief. You’re fooled by distant man together again in one body male and female. I understand union reals, but mine was impossible to understand because nature had gone awry and pitted me with another half I could not join society with. I had to change, and I had to know the world to do it. I had to discover myself. I had to get big. I discovered abstinence not denial, and I’m not an accident waiting to happen. I know how to harmonize life and just be myself in any given situation.
Can you do that, or are you bound by society’s rules that stigmatize yourself? I’ve overcome you. Men hurt and women, and I can find myself in a field of pain at the drop of a hat, at the turn of a phrase, and do you know what I’m giving you? What’s the price of change? You can’t do it in today’s society. Can I help you? Can I be there for you? And you will only read this to find crime, you blockhead. Is that the majority of us? Do you find crime?
I revolutionize society right here lookin’ at it. I revolutionize society right in front of you. Kill me for it, will you? I’m on old pastured ground, but I’m not visible to your eyes man’s worth. Nobody wants to put me out in the open because I’m a dangerous man in these times. You might get in trouble for it. I don’t know why I’m here speakin’ under your table right now to the high and the low. I could be anywhere, but I’m not I’m here, givin’ you my life’s blood, takin’ out my heart and showin’ it to you, so you can sacrifice with me to the joy of the world all our petty and mean, any vehicle of harm, sacrifice even your safety in ego activism par none, not stupidly, not shamefully, on the field of poetry bounds, or whatever art aids yah to take the ego from its throne, to move the ego from its peacock seat, to end its dominance on earth. You get my carryin’ dog?
You sacrifice yourself on the alter of life in sudden epiphanies of the inspired art. Would that God stays Abraham’s hand and doesn’t kill his son, you know? The wise care on the dance floor, this is the new Gilbert, Mattie Mae. Can you come down some to our price? The greatest feelins in the world are all around you, even if you get hit by a car, and you’re not too fucked up to see them. That’s God you see and the Mystery behind time, just a livin’ it up in the wood, and bringing you in on yourself so you see them the Wonderful who you are.
This happens every day in any field on earth, but you have to find them inside to see them as clearly as you do the world, and that’s an inner journey par none, over and over again. Break the bounds inside. Throw open the lid that separates you from infinity, and get yourself all straightened out, over long, slow years, over every minute of your life. In all your mistakes, you’re goin’ somewhere, but you don’t do mistakes to get there. You harmonize everything into your larger see.
Now I’ve given you the keys to begin. Now is this a booty hunt? It’s nothin’ that will always get you anything. Now what the desert symbols in dreams? That’s the touchstone to a greater life, that arid, that barren, and when the honey starts, it’s not up all along. You have to be tested and tried, and there are snakes on the footpath and liars in your head. It’s a milkshake of calamity taking you to safety, and you’ve made the monsters mad that mess with human lives, the monsters under your bed. They just rule down here you know? And the negligent divine waits to intervene. It’s got to be the right stuff or a node on the story all-important. It sucks you know? Makes for banging your head against the wall in your miracle ward.
Have I spelled it enough. I can get goin’ towards that hidden sun. Does it have to be a car, you divine underwood, crashin’ me into the pavement, the divine intervention I ride, taking out of business, that ground me for a paycheck? What the fuck?
The rice failed enough gas. Did I get away with it? It’s rainin’. I can’t get over it, how I’m brought before my enemies, those that fire me and kick me out of India and just generally despise me, and shown to be a beggar in the wood marchin’ down the hill to a hole at the end of the tunnel. Reader, do you see that? No, you see my inner wares. I’d be a cap gun that fools yah. That’s not God pushin’ you on the floor. It’s his chaperon, the bodied life we are. Kinda gets yah in the knickers, doesn’t it, the embarrassment we are.
I’m goin’ for larger pastures, and I’m bringin’ my dog. Got a problem with that? I’m not molten lava. I am not weird and strange. Clothes against the wind, the key to love is change; that’s all. How you get around everything: genuine and love, back behind everything, build a life. You have arrived at the end of the poem. In a sudden change, you can only take your own car. Go for it. Read it, Review of Nonconformity And Other Stars.
That’s a foundation-spread spirituality. You need help. How far did you go? Did you get all the way down to the well of soul? Now there’s advice, everyday counsel. There is saving grace in given words and visions in the very substance of your dreams, and great seraphim thoughts that ride your day. Listen to this. It’s guidance from down under concrete and whole.
Hey, crowd, somethin’ tears it apart, this speakeasy in your mind, invader of dreams, the ones who put circumstance together down here on earth. The monsters of the deep, they talk too. They guide you to tear you apart, and do you know what? They do it all the time, and without the discernment, you just fall apart. They block the soul, imitate it, and drown it out with their lore, and can I come on the scene with channeling? Most this is rotten tomatoes. The divine doesn’t speak that way, and divine beings are all around us, giving guidance like the soul, inner ships, having a conversation in the symbols of art.
It’s inner speech daemon and inner vision, a high kaleidoscope of grand advice, a chorus of voices rich with entertainment’s mood and the jolly of the world. It’s unbelievable in its scope. It’s happenin’ in your ability to go in trance inside, or anytime you go inside for a bright reverie that can come from cooking a meal, if you’re alone, and operating a motor vehicle, all eyes on the road, any mundane task monotonous enough to go in while doin’ it. These are development skies, when you get down to it, impossible really to bless you with. You have to do it yourself.
Now the road’s all open for you to do it yourself. Who does it for you? No, not the divine and certainly not the soul. It doesn’t take your will from you, but it empowers your will with keen advice, the knowledge to do it right. The most hidden part of the spiritual path, they rely on your own will the changes you make. Willpower takes force as the door, and there’s no way around this I’m sorry to say.
Actually, this is what you’re goin’ through, line your will up with God, will this, will that, in the loads of every day. Come on is this impossible? Impossibility seems, and as many times as you fall, there’s a stickler on your will. Never mind the philosophy, but you do come under a spell when confronted with your obstacle, your subconscious part, and until you overcome it, it will get you every time. Come out from under that spell, and you have grand guidance to do so, if you listen, if you get down that far, if you’re sincere. You’re not the messiah, hero. You’re just you doin’ it, a change of heart.
Have I found myself there? This is advice from the soul and my chosen divine, but you don’t have to believe in them. Every word of this is inner made, and mastery I call on you, here in bed with my dog, around the house, inner in an outer state. Even outside the story goes, walkin’ my dog or ridin’ my bike, inwardly concentrated on the outside see. No neglect is there. I’m not spaced out, and that car hit me on the sidewalk, where I was legally bound. It carried the liability. It was a fault. I didn’t fill inner guidance on the road. I was never spill my lines on the way to work in that particular journey, the day I get hit by a car. I just got attacked by dinjinns, and that sucks.
It was an emergency officer, let me go unprotected for the dinjinns to do it. I have more poems to ride. You’re hearin’ one now. A cashier at Walmart is so outwardly tuned, concentrated on customers all the time, too much talking for inner silence. And let me spill this again: I am inner guidance on your roof, and you’re gettin’ the tall of it, everything written down to get you started, to get you goin’, to help you along the way, to confirm your own found it there, the inner path all along. It’s a long poem, for the serious in mind, heart, for those who want to know. You got a minute?
I’m a chaperon really of your budding spirituality. Anyway, let’s get this show on the road. There is will down. You have just go to pick it up, and it’s a fence worth, not everything in the sky. These are the teachings of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo and their yoga put into practice, written down for daily use, in the order of appearance in the skies of time. What a freeway, huh?
I went overtime to make this a complete yoga book in first time hands, or to give old timers a way out of their dilemma. You must pardon my shimmerin’ moon, the spearpoints of my stars. The sun doesn’t talk yet it just looks, and changes the whole field. We are on the road to Supermind if you want to know the truth, the divinize everything, and we moon to get there from the house of soul, but it doesn’t talk to you, the immortal Supermind, nor do you worship it. It rides you along the itineraries, and there it is in the sun in vision. Clouds around it some, or is it full force?
Can you see that far? And here we’ve begun. Pretty dog, sometimes you are your dog. How to communicate the road to master? Do you see the sea salt? You’re not always made clear, but it’s a hell of a ride to stick your life to, so unboring, so very real.
Why would you just want money to spend on things? Why would you want to get along life without it, the challenge of a lifetime? Why would you want to be dumb, stupid, and mean, when you can have the sun, moon, and stars? Tell me now, what is this advice within my head that visits you in my bed? Ah, a dream I think but oh so strange. I give all the name of the game, lights on yoga if you tell the truth, and there we are.
I didn’t put any bowel movements to get you to this beauty. I didn’t piss all over myself, but I sure didn’t leave anything out that gets our goat talkin’ about. I’m not embarrassed to say the creeper, the thing we can’t handle, because it’s too impolite. I talk you there, where the knots are, and that’s you untie them, and I am a power yoga there, if you see I’m speakin’ from truth I’ve fortified with my own two bare hands. You’re gettin’ my yoga, and I’m not at all ashamed to say I’m well on the way. Do you hear me boys and girls?
I am very pleased. Let’s get started or begin again. Let’s get well on the way, a sadhana you do tomorrow that’s here in your hands today, 24/7, all along the rollercoaster, and you got that right, a touch of God. We are endeavor to learn two birds in the hand are worth two in the bush. It’s not all spiritual experiences. It’s not even that you seek. Center on the divine in everything you do, the divine above all else, the divine in your living room. You will get to the One eventually, the Mystery behind all, the divine in everything you do.
Road speak I’m sad. Gotta get your compass out and slow down. The goal is ever the goal. Do you know what I mean? It’s a ways beyond anything you’re doin’ now, until you are Gods on earth, literally, in the sky and on the ground, the change to Supermind as it rides Earth. Is that a thousand years from now? Every week brings us closer to the goal, and you look at it that way, as the sun rides your life a happenin’ now. Can you go up there to it?
In great moments you’re there I’ll let you diagnose. Did you get out of the universe and be up there within it? Did you ride the sun? Where is that at in manifestation Earth? You are grounded you know in the impossible, and you ever ride the sky in the ways of God, when your manifestation is true to Earth, and wow this poem is, and yeah stupid me, I get lost in corners, but I do certainly get out. I can sacrifice my way out of anything, as I glide by. I can get out of trouble, the representative creature that I am on a representative planet in a symbol universe. You see my Winnebago?
And you’re there beyond time, and that’s not in the wood. Now, you see where we’re goin’? We’ve already been there. It’s where we come from, and we’re bringin’ that down here, divinize the Earth and sun, the finite one up there in the sky. Hercules, and we give that man his name. It’s a golden endeavor, a supramental endeavor we surrender to all our days.
Now do you have the rulebook? There is none. It happens as it happens, a different road for each one, something beyond rules and step by steps, and that’s the hardest thing in the world for the human being, likin’ the simplicity of the animal, likin’ his way of life, the dumb run. We’ll get there anyway, despite ourselves. It is spoken. It is inevitable. I’ll see yah on the road, okay?
Alright, this poem continues with your sadhana where here I do mine, right there, where we fall asleep. Take it from me, if you have the patience to hear a poem all night long. I do, and this writin’ too. It’ll make one offer: passive who you sittin’ in the burden of your life. Hear on me here, and that’s a hell of a sadhana, so answer divine. There is no other way up surrender all you keep, and you’re on your road through time, and you have the strength to get out, and it’s right there comes spiritual experience, the flexity to let it happen it’s so startling down here you know.
Good, let’s grow up. See that coming. It will tear you up, and you will get up and move on, anything that happens, anything that does. Can we put the strength of this poem in your hands, inside the river have your coming days? I’m afraid you have no choice but to do it yourself, whatever you find, wherever we go. Is that so alarming? Okay we may have to learn calamity stakes, a much harder road than now. Don’t say okay life come and show me what you got. I’m sayin’ you’re lookin’ for the divine, come what may, whatever happens. You got that road? You got that life?
Supposed to take care of it that negligent divine. Alright already, you’re in here, in a blessing packet now. Ah, go ahead and set up. Well you can shut up. Thank you reader. See there the power you have? The emergency ever arrives to thought, wherever it’s mutilated. We’re done here. Makin’ true that’s all. I apologize for getting so mad this morning. I had no food, and that food arriving, and you turned it into some grasshopper’s umbrella complication 3 and surgery. They will be taking pictures if they can at Walmart. Look it’s mine too. It’s nice of her, gas keep the phone to its tours airs on the screen, as the Spirit ignores you, in noise jokes around, at my expense. I end it here. That’s it.
There’s fence of good people to, the limits of your attention recognize. Oh my warm God, I give you credit out of the parking lot. The pursuit of the unbearable, what was lost in God to front the Unknowable. The action of the divine mother put all in place, gave name to form and helped me to abode in peace, but I am lost in this fathomlessness so greatly surmise the world, and I love my dog. How greatly that turns the world, the boundlessness of love. It’s patient sitting the works of the divine mother and giving you a poem, formlessly and one honey puppy.
Denies all a great eye of nothingness. The great eye of nothingness doesn’t exist. A great eye of nothingness shut off. The enclosure, no thank you, I will not man nothing, put that on my brain, or go anywhere with it. Do you know how tall this is? Outside of the enclosure of the universe. There we are.
Sad or bored, now it’s the hidden sun pulling those habitats from my eyes into my very joy not confined in anything. Any new answer to bring the world in peace, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. I’m not gonna force it. I’m gonna take the bus, come out of the top of my head, stoppin’ tonight right now.
Yeah we get there, just above the head, where the consciousness stays, the seat of consciousness. You’re a consciousness now (I was lookin’ around), inviting Supermind down. This gets scared. Where did I put it? I put it where the poem ends, where the vehicle ends takes you to see these things, and there you are.
To the next war, to the next tree, you gotta try to find this. It’s the one safety frees us from all harm. What did you do? I sat the captives free. Hear about it, it turns you on, transcendence. What a sun scratching child, I just can’t get into algebra. He’s going to get seconds, and there’s moooore, moooore. [sing last two lines]
Are you up the down staircase? You see this as where we came from. There is another bill, and these paragraphs says personal city. The lantern was a collective whole. We’ve lit up the chasm of the Abyss, brought consciousness down there, the great scout, so the Real in the apparent form brings a new Earth, and Supermind descends into its creation, and we bring home here. Put your shoes on people, I’ve shown you the way home. We need to find the most names excited by thrill seekers. I thought I’d pass this on to everybody. Understand my science revolutionary? You get me dog?
Thunderstruck, it looks like, I’ll do it bitterly and sweetly: I’m actually heard. You wanna working stiff not a poet in the rafters, and I just wanna be left alone and do my stuff in a poem. Okay I’ll see you again soon with another poem from the rafters. You’ve got it on your whistle I don’t have to get in front of that cash register and Walmart the world away. I can’t write a lick of poetry caught up in that crowd. It’s grocery lists and item buys, throwin’ myself out on the public lane when gettin’ home and tryin’ to get my silence back.
A day off I’ll do it, but that’s work, work, work, you know? Along with the cookin’ and what else, constant dog care and what else, and I do like the sunshine on a winter’s day sittin’ and bein’ nice to myself, unguarded moments of ease, readin’ and whatnot, seein’ the football game end, maybe a movie or two, or doin’ nothin’ in my arm chair, sweetin’ up the day with that, what gives rise to poetry I have those seraphim thoughts, and I have the freedom to do that, basically, I don’t work for the Man in those loud modes, can’t get a concentration done on anything of silence.
Now all these days off, I’m in a poetry slam, really, really intense, and I’m gettin’ right down on the fingers of society go for the throat of society right in its needed change, least I run off before you put me back to work in some menial job poetry can’t land there. I gotta eat you know, help Douglas with the bills— there’s Donny.
Can someone please help me to a poet’s worth? Big bathroom I think. Is that North Bergen, Dallas or Ashburn, Judgment Falls, the Bible states, all these fields on earth? North Fort Worth, go back there and see me alive and not doin’ a thing wrong, all ye people, all your self-satisfied lives, all you lives lookin’ for somethin’ you ain’t got. Could we like, uh, rock n roll?
This is just the price of oil comin’ to that place it heed dollar. Here’s it’s talkin’ about let’s get this show on the road. I’m good at it, givin’ yah for all it’s worth writin’ poetry to today’s mind, interestin’ to all these people at the edge of the world. You don’t read like you used to. Now, where did poetry go? Right here, a new style to play a part today you ain’t never seen before.
ChatGI, that stupid free course, that wrong imitation, will it sum up the world and put meanin’ in it, direction and path, all on the nodes of man it gather out in the world from its own experience? Will it put meaning together like this, like a paratrooper? Will you give credit to human language genuinely done by where’s poetry come from since it came out of our mouths, the honest to God muse of poetry, the real thing? Man I’m talking to you.
Present turn to your dinner. Oh ah, lift up your eyes and eat. Came over and bring that Nithish I am trying to school, that 14-year-old and poet. His poet, that 14-year-old boy, can you bring him here to me please from India? Can you just send his poetry along to the world too? Nithish’s blog top of the page. We have Spirit together. We can ask do you need anything today? You need children put rightly, the greatest need in the world. He’ll tell you that in his poetry, and when a kid sings it, you’re likely to hear it. I can just ask. You’re just ready to put me in the trashcan, but why him? Thank you, my boy’s blog.
Not curry for free, we spiritual mastered together. I am his teacher, his grandfather and best friend. I raised him a good portion of his childhood, and he’s home with me. I was there the night he was born at the hospital. You know what that means: I didn’t find him as a sex tourist. He’s my kid, and that’s his whistle with me, all along time.
We’re good together, like a racehorse, like a freight train. I gave him God shoes. That he puts them on and becomes a think tank himself, we do that duty, and he is high and mighty in my life, and I respect his every mood, but I don’t get off on him. He’s sacrifice. He’s work. We identify with each other so naturally and sweetly you would want him put over here with me. Now that’s standard dress, and we have work to do together you know, and that’s all folks. That’s everything. I love that little boy.
The sun has molded itself to itself in high glass clear. In special light we’re there. Image the sea. He has the showed the higher consciousness makes them embrace in this paper. Oh yeah it’s horrible you’re too loud to read it. Another note: I have a glance in that spiritual presence I know the meaning of, scheduled car to enter enlightenment. Been here. Social it and do me a favor. I am right now holding your hand. Would you be pretty enough to see that? Right on time let’s go outside.
The explosion and the scary, I’m not sure it’s fathomable. Beings of a wider, higher consciousness drew near. There’s a you for months other than me. I don’t like the fallout. Go under more long than strong. I think I see enlightenment’s booty. Being take a look at it band aide all day. I learn to abide consciousness shears. When the public enters your mind those origin. It’s profound the crowd. Eww, catalyst we really fit ourselves. And why would you do that? Dream after dream after dream right here in your notebook. Got to know there on Sunday’s farm. There’s a dumplin’. Origins delivers. What is that mode? The diamond, the windows shear and pure.
Enlightenment what’s your number? Why not? What does a guy lose? Just give me a second. I’ll do some scheduling, and it’s done. I’ve opened it. Let’s have some fun. We go public, think like the hurricane. When I say that now the public mind doesn’t believe it. The noosphere it lets you on the rafters visiting human thought, and that’s a big puppy.
View our progress someone touches me it gets out. What have you done? The sins the day will kill you with, break a leg. Oh, it’s your past. Can we step in line see forgiveness? That’s done it I know the meaning of my sins, and I have repented from them. I don’t do them no more, and this takes the icing off the cake. I’m not the only one bonded by my sin, and I can’t make up for you here. You have no other way but punishment. I’m not going to confess a dime. I’m not going to let you have me. I will make the journey to make up for what I’ve done. I will do that.
I will, when those two, when life and death talk roads, when the inner consciousness itself reaches people inside so much healing done, so much love. Movin’ robotics, there was the whole system of this legal system. You can’t just leave it. That happen. We stop prison planet. We stop it completely and a few other places we punish people for their disease.
I’m a view that in person. I heal, and it’s all I can do. There’s a factor, the power of love. We have that stuff, and I’m a hologram for it. Grand it put there hey I love you. Will do scrubbin’ my feet here all along. That’s the tension hunkered down as you read my poem. I’m alive on you. I’m not neglecting you. Perfect, let’s go home.
Let’s get movin’, shall we? Let’s get on with it, the magical life on the road in splendid skies. We really get out. We really get out of prison. You take care now. You take care of yourself. So long, you have a good day. So you note it by yourself, put divine muse, divine lawyers.
What’s new in the swamps of Michigan and forest? We have really decided his paper broadcast America. Rebelled some. [pronounced rebel’d] I didn’t limit alcohol to its dispensary. I didn’t get drunk either, but I rode alcohol to give me some beer to separate some pain and some ease. It made me feel good, but that’s no problem. I drove the winnebago I’m normal waking consciousness down by the grass feed. It’s right up here the substance of my day. That’s her fault, yeah the divine mother. She told me this mornin’ that everybody’s supposed to of God, but if they’re not at the beach, feel, feel, feel, what condition my condition was in [two above lines sung to tune of the beginning of “Just Dropped In”], ascended joy, a rising ecstasy. It is precision jewelry.
There would have to be patience to break the rules, not indulgin’ matter to a ritual pattern, but you just break loose every now and then, ease up on the controls and take down your hair. Let’s get now you don’t do that to harm anybody, and you don’t get drunk if you’re an alcoholic harmin’ yourself. Normal waking consciousness, it lifts your road, dangnabbit. Wait this is beauty’s skies, and here you are. I’ll let you promise we’re good keepers here the clear portal of consciousness. Substance driven, we lose our way. In highs there’s a held up they use as a camera we don’t even know is there, the monsters of the deep. There’s a platform here I know it. Psychedelics, you know it, that big joker. That settled anarchy tribe, well they can bring spiritual experience in sittin’ very well prepareds. Good God hallelujah, you can’t make rules about anything You got my winnebago?
Blitzin’ to get this damn show on the road. Oh my grand family, do we just kill each other, or have a moon? I’m not gonna pay a lot for this muffler. Where did that come from? That’s a conservative. You will spend your whole life. I don’t get it. Your old life is gone. Everything’s a portal of sadhana. Nothin’ gets left out. The concentration goes everywhere, every minute puttin’ that veneer on everything, on to it: I am concentrating on the divine in everything I do, think, and be, because it’s right in front of me whole and ready-made. Just remember that veneer continually more, a bunch of times during the day, until the representative consciousness comes in your mode of thinking, being.
I’ve described to you the sadhana that will get us out of here and get us out of suffering, the sadhana you do every day. You do sadhana in the heartwood of everything, and watch it change your life. Thirty years is nothin’ you’re figurin’ results. This changes the world. Your change gets it there.
Oh the pancakes, there is the Great Smokey Mountains National Park. You can’t let your dogs there. Unbelievable. I’ve got a Rottweiler. You, you can’t do it, travel your dogs up the road in a spiritual change. What does that mean? You’re learn the rules won’t get yah there. Some doggy might. Toasted let’s go home, dogs or not.
For your feet that do yah. Absolutely it’s free people. Better, I just found out people are gettin’, they’re gettin’ better. The freedom’s come ‘ere, it’s your choice. Peter’s cookin’ the thought Heaven. It’s a little too big. The first chappal you sent, I got promoted on the state park, backfishin’. Here I am giving things. A quarter your visitors for dogs, got it set up. Yeah next week I’m gonna eat. I got so much cookin’ where infancy changes the world, but I made it out of there alive, and I used that to open my consciousness far and wide.
My mom was around all the groceries in one battle. Peanut butter, she slipped it into her mouth and sucked that little thing. The consciousness that rules orgasm, I got ruled from birth, all my toddler years. Oedipus hits the Sphinx, and fuck it let’s get on with it. It’s a ticklin’ notion comin’ in on my playground a devil with red eyes, the horrendous history of abuse. I saw it sittin’ there all over the table, that dog-dragon with red eyes (imaginary playmate hell), grinnin’ as my mom supped. I was openin’ consciousness early on. I bought you transcendence. Now do you believe me?
Up to an American geologist an alarm went off. To a doctor, violently lets in the poem. So I was messed up on you just can’t get out of the mundane to see the Real, can you? Unbelievable your pittance. Can you create a star? I wash over it, sit and face the truth, ch-ch-ch-ch-changes. [sing last two lines to tune of “Changes”]
When I’m giving that to Walmart’s eye I have a saying: you’re going home. [says reader at the same time I say it] I’m going home. Sharing real life on the clock looks like we found each other. We went a special forces team. In bounds you change a woman, a man, a single body like before. There’s another person, the whole. Yeah, you have the impossible dream. Sorry kid, that one, I have it. I have my hands on it today, located in the heart of the night people are moving, in my drawers, and the platelets of man. I have the energy to see myself one with the sewing machine, and I car to land’s end. That close by the apple we got knowledge on. Did not put down the biggest one, the fruit of the tree of the unknown, where we become God on earth livin’ in man, the paradise of our inner state, the manifestation on our outer. I do not neglect immortality in a rainbow body par none I change into again. Houston come on, that’s Heaven man halleluja, amen.
Glory halleluja, where the poem ends, The Love of Yoga it’s called, for apes and further humans apin’ me in the rainbow. Fall all over yourselves readin’ it. I don’t know what to say. Look, there’s God, God on earth.
We believe the magic’s made out of Choctaw and wood. Join it on the open air, and uh, a poet all together mountain, burnin’ here background check, ridin’ high forward, rumblin’ with redneck, he gets his point across. They hear him at the Astrodome. They hear him on Soldier’s Field, well an American poet at the rafters of his craft poetry. I mean they actually know’d he published a poem, everybody concerned with such and everybody that don’t. I rub myself on the land right there at that smellin’ spot, hallelujah, ruff, ruff. Beautiful, ain’t? Amazing landfall, the shouldering down of American life, American landfall.
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.
It snows in springtime, off the board. It smells in springtime— says my dog. She loves it there— a smell ring. David son of Benjamin, he suffers there. Everybody thinks he’s a Jew. Medieval applications apply. He’s magnificent— a great people. Jesus son of Benjamin, see what I mean?
To see it’s a world of scary mystery me’s, [sing line] and that’s in the oven. You don’t have the price is right. This is grandiosa me. Thank you. Whadda I do? Everything on Earth’s fine, just you have some problems in it, unnaturally in your lane. It’s a bear, and you get richly left alone too much for the shadows, and they are monsters. Oh, okay, I’m left alone in the dark.
I’m feelin’ Planet Earth. Now you’re a smart cookie, a smart little girl. Earth is fine means you have to study yourself to understand its price. It’s a werewolf. It hates you and hates you and hates you, and I’m sorry, but this is disguised as love. Even your loved ones stand with you where everyone feels alone. You can’t get enough love.
The secret of the ages: you know every human being just wants to be loved. This is powerful. It eats you alive. What’s to do about it? I’m right in the middle of this, okay? But I have the most amazing charge: everything’s alive, and I feel the likes of everybody. I can’t get over you, how big you are to yourself as I am. I really hurt for you, and I feel you deeply. This casts me alone under the eyes of everybody, all these deities, so many devils, beings in every corner of the woods, nature spirit upon nature spirit upon nature spirit, and so many spirits you don’t understand, and so many things have eyes.
Can you get a load of my day? It’s so cozy in bed with my dog. Great feelins— I don’t have the world on my back, and I’m in my cocoon shimmerin’ with my dog. Nature approves. I gather strength there. Do you know I make my night a boat to curse on the world’s dreams 11:30? I’m gonna make it outta here to another field of consciousness that experiences the world differently 12 o’clock high.
I have a question. What’s that boat about? The world is your illusion right in front of you. The reality’s inside, but you live in the world like it’s free. You have no obligations or even thoughts in your head, no sense of I at all, but you fulfill everybody perfectly. You’re not a go-getter. It’s passive, warm, and kind. You’re just there, like a star in the sky, and you know this is dangerous on earth. People want to eat you, but you’ve arrived at the starting point to bring down God on earth.
Future plans we grab the Earth by its horns and divinize the living shit out of it and make it nice and green. We make it right. This is all in our heads, and we will bring down Supermind here. Aeons away? I have no idea, and I hamburger for enlightenment now, the spiritual change, but the closer I get, I just can’t get there. I see everything, but it still bites.
I’m a cashier at a register makin’ Walmart money, and do you know how normal that is? I’m a cashier for enlightenment now. Enlightenment squirrels. The public sees you as a target to handle their groceries and items, and they really sympathize with you doing that for the most part. You got a loan together, the public and you, to bring humanity home. You are so intimate with their stuff, and they trust you. I take every customer as my responsibility. I want to touch them there: the immediacy of the moment is fine with them. It’s what Walmart strives for but doesn’t know how to do. Thank you. I’m meat in their hands, but let’s get on with it.
I love humanity don’t you? I cannot profound things to the very cosa itself, what we’re doin’ here and why. I can tell you how wide it is, but I cannot big get there. We’re on a spaceship you know. Glidin’ through Earth are cosmic agencies, and there is bigger than that. Do you know the Alone fronts your face? Try that mystery. It’s apart from everything all things is. I alone with that sometimes. You can feel its breath upon your shoulders, but why are we here? Because it is we are. That’s all I can tell yah. We are its strings to pull existence along that it opens nothingness with. I get enough sustenance from that thought to satisfy my cravings for being.
And every one of us is like that: me I’m an alligator eating nothingness alive. That’s personal. Have I given you the spoon yet? Can you take existence by the hand and bake it to where it means somethin’? Can you eat off my words? To bring their items home, I have that job with customers. I match them with their price. Give me a minute. I’ll get better at this job, like you will improve my see. I can’t talk to you general public. You’ve blocked me out. A poet and his public, is there a ringer there? Is there even a price? All the old gatekeepers apply. They will not let you do it anywhere else, be a public poet. You have to be gateway approved. Even the reader readin’ this will not poet it in his box if it’s not found poetry on an official poetry channel. We’re squirrels that way. We’re herd sour, and I can’t get out of this pen. Fine, I’ll tell you again.
Everything has eyes. Can you live there? Can you feel humanity’s heat like it’s your own baked bread? Can you see your dog’s as person as you, minus the grasp with the hands the grasp in thought, and you love those creatures? I’m stoppin’ eatin’ meat. I just can’t take it, all those little lives snuffed out to arrive on my table after untold suffering. I feel the meat I eat, and it’s paradise here in America, a meat lover’s paradise. We just don’t know what hurts. I’m not a fanatic about it. I’ll just get that conscious diet, not freak out if I eat an animal a time or two, feelin’ its life. Can you get there, laid back about it all, not offended by anything? You’re just lookin’ at yourself studyin’ your every day to be a better me in it, to develop yourself to answer God’s prayers. That’s the price of livin’ if you want to know. That’s what we all take on. That’s what we all live to Earth is better this planet right now. You feel me dog?
Then change my name. Change your body. That’s not it. Good morning. Dirty-Purdy, you gonna pay it or what? It has eyes. It’s a snake in the grass, but it’ll kiss your feet. You can’t run it down. You can only be with it like you mean it. Hello Robin Hood. Attention Walmart shoppers, a lot of money behind the fence. Freshness just comin’ in, you gonna pay for it. Let’s slice out at the top all those profits. Can you give me some of that honey please— employee. You got your standard dome, makin’ money. You, what I can do to call you on it. I get on it great balls of fire, my own imitation of this land’s for you, “This Land Is Your Land”, and I’m talkin’ to the people you understand availability wrote.
Make you think the machine actually makes you an associate. Don’t read anything where you can set them straight. Poemless to get you money. Marriage attorney, I’m down the road a bit, the ultimate customer you’ll have to face no matter what, and we are really cozy in here under the counter, the public and the corporate string rackets. They’re doin’ just some stupid money launderin’. Even the public can tie better shoes. Corporate all the crap you lay on us, get some money that’s what happens today’s date. Tomorrow you will meet the world and don’t just take from it. “The Advice Capitalism”, one link leads to another.
I’ve got your pants down, but I’m not gonna spit on yah. We need better from you. Don’t say that you don’t understand and know that fully. Walmart you piece of cake in the cash register. I want a better job from you. To me, I can return a couple of those. That Sherry Dennis, you got a gripe about her, rude, mean, and on her pantyhose. I think we’ve got a stereotype. It’s that checkout lady on the counter. She’s found her roost and is a hen in a pecking order she rubs your nose in. What do you do about her? Corporate can’t understand it. It doesn’t make you wanna work there. They’re baskin’ in power, years at the register, and you’re dealing with social hierarchy in a hen peck, and that hen don’t have ears or a social conscience. So you don’t get away with nothin’ in your goodwill towards her. Why would that offend you if goodwill’s all you got? You see the test lamb. You have to always be on your toes to balance sacrifice with the right thing to do and let bygones be bygones and start each day anew. Whew, that was hard.
Listenin’ to freeways, I’m takin’ holes by the horns and sayin’ come on some, I want to fill you with awareness. I can’t believe it. We're just markin’ time here killin’ things. Look inside yourself and see you carry the world. I cried at a poster rat. Said he was 17 and missin’. He looked so on himself and purdy, so sweet and mean, so teenager in his prime. Did somebody get their hands around that throat and take the world from him? You dirty rat. The poster never lets you know. That’s all folks. I’d like to talk to you guys. And when you lay it out, in whispers, find our bottoms will yah? There, we’ve reached the sky safe and sound. You know who makes it out alive? The target.
I’d like to build a church. I’d like to build a bridge. Make for soldiers who just can’t take it anymore. Get it done in springtime. Get it done right now, wonderful fields of dream. You’re authorized don’t be a dick, carry everybody to the woodshed, and you don’t bang them there. You are nice, soft, and warm. You muse be. You are a string holding existence together. You are more jolly than that. You are yourself beyond time. Don’t bite into the dirt. You need to look good to the end of the line.
That’s the story. That’s our wellbeing on earth, ever a handmaid to little tigers, and we give all those animals love. Talk to me about it. I know the price of the gun. It’s ever on my mind the harm I’ve done. That’s a nice cat. Thank you, I bought it myself. The Earth has it in its storybook. It’s held meaning Earth. I’m championing children you know. What would we do if we were good and kind to them, soft and warm? Revolutionize society and be big sisters to everyone. Well, what are you waitin’ for?
God dog you could be nice Donald Trump. Everybody, Trump's bad, not a kind character. I just sign up for what I see. The paint of the Mother race God. I ask Luna. Of course, a story to be me all the way to couch potato. That’s the kind dog, lovin’ everybody. Beautiful she wrote.
Yeah I know: am I too excited? (the sound of my phone telling me a message has arrived) A poem I wrote, I’m dealin’ a lot of shit. I’m dealing with a lot of good looking manners. There’s a large turnover. Whoever read this book, good afternoon.
The doorway it’s small, that doorway to land on Earth. Gonna get the team leader God watching, and we will bank a new Earth. Right dog? Nothing from Islamic State. All over their hardware, oh me, my outlawed poem-video “Rainbow as a Radical with Islamic State”. It got me in the hospital every week making it, stomach attack city. Now die Venezuela. Invite you to dinner and eat you, America is that you? Fine, put ‘em in the basket. Next Greenland. Go and help them get out of danger you fine Nazi hunters. Freshness company, can we stand up and be counted? Are you excited to get Trump out? Walmart goes through the store in trepidation glee on the shores of eternity.
Sharin’ and US History, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. When were gone astray, oh tidings of comfort and joy. [sing this and above line, the Christmas carol] You could only go so far. An evil lits the bar. [sing this and above line] Watch on the pitch. A crooked umpire is prepared on you, support dragons. Tackle every notion of self-righteousness. You must do this watchin’ yourself. In this imperium no hands unnoticed. You sing her the Gemini has given her an eye. And we hear from the divine about me. After canned goods I got you pretty good. What is it if you can’t see? You would not be uncomfortable with unkindness.
Springtime is a soul’s regard. You just like a historic book? I’m writin’ history on the parallel lines, what we gotta give up for good to conquer, the whole landmass of selfish, of hey everybody I’m mean, of I’m satisfied with my lower type, of let’s put Earth first in a bottle and hide it from time. Can you grasp a greater day?
Unhand that king. He’s not about to rule the world. He can’t rule himself straight. Let the lunch he’s ordered eat him alive, all that rope he hung himself with, if he insists on bein’ mean. You hear me Trump? Havin’ a good time support dictator. View history’s log. We thought we were free— German patriotic people in Hitler’s time. Do you know what’s goin’ on? You are fooled by your own vulgarity in how you treat people and axe them inside. Trump does just what you do on a grand scale. So did Hitler. You just got more constraints. Make Jews and a police to punish them with, that’s immigrants with a darker skin and ICE.
Do I need to put the list on board? You’re not gonna see it anyway. Undocument yourself from meanness, pettiness vice. Can you know the meaning of love? I think we all pay that price. Don’t you feel it? And the list goes on, all that I see in springtime. All comes out in springtime the soul carries forth. It’s not a rotten tomata. I’m sittin’ there now. Great Scott! I’m embarrassing to say I love you, you purdy balance of soul.
Will you come along with me? We have a nation to save. Aren’t you gonna help? We need your input right now in your candy maker, givin’ love to everybody where your thoughts ride Earth. Impossible it seems if at first they’ve hurt you, but that’s the standard of the universe, love. You just haven’t found it yet the crabapple is so strong. Am I right city? Of course you love. I’m goin’ that way right off the roof. In every answer could you see that it’s a blast off into the sky every direction love.
You do an application first of the love down home in your garden, what you feel for your kids, cats and puppy dogs. You’d stop laughin’ then at the way I hold my mouth sayin’ all you need is love, love everybody right now, some 60s sentiment. When you hold your children you hold the world, and can you come on earth and see that? Can you hold down Earth and see that?
The subtle ends of the world put us all together like we are one person, and we certainly are. He don’t brush his teeth. He sure does, inside your every move. What are you lookin’ at, the mess we’ve made? I’ll definitely stay here, all our mornings in springtime, to see the soul in action and hear it write a poem, and all that one soul we are, divided up into springtimes, and there I’ve spoken mine.
That’s walkway center. The appetite is love. Get a load of a great day. I’ll just have to break it down into a different register than yours that keeps the same coins. Oh field toss, what have you, I have a way with the strings to cast you my day, things I’ve touched you to understand poetry. It’s hands down a better world. Sure can baby, we can love one another. That will touch the sky. Just open it up. Be alarm— all you have to do is want it. While you’re doing that, marry it with Heaven. Then he knows where God on earth that angel sings.
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.
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.
I wanna restrict access to ether department material. I wanna clarify the sense of know. What is the irony? They never seem to remember they’re not dealing with science they’re dealing with train yards. It only becomes science when consciousness becomes involved. That dog exists. He points all the cartoons and movies. I’ve seen ‘im.
This is not just an English submission. And the way you must maintain, [sing line] inhabit this as if your life depended upon it. Disturbed her hand. Nobody knows where this is comin’ from, and no reader sees this comin’. Soon you’ll get bit and ice cream. It has the attention, [sing line] and you hit a basketball court, and it may happen to be our key.
Dobie you came to stop me why? Christianity does not know it’s interred. It thinks it’s the sandman. It hurts people, and it does not match reality. Fine, I’ll keep singin’.
I put everybody in bed with me so they can see change. It’s a safety measure. Where do we come from? Do we come from the trees? What happens when our pants are off when we were children? How angry does momma spank us? Are we left in a corner to rot? Is daddy a guerilla? Do we get enough to eat? Are we the brunt of everyone’s joke? How much pressure do we spend childhood with?
What’s mental health, and how has it failed us? Every scientist knows you put the telescope on heavenly bodies, the microscope on nature’s small dance. What makes us tick? The observational posts are not there. We’ve neglected our very selves, who we need to see to survive it’s gotten so big our department store.
Why didn’t we do this from the beginning, put all those training devices on us so that we know where we came from when a child comes out of the womb? Have I hit the most territorial seize the day? You can’t look in there. It’s the most agreed upon privacy in the world, that little family intake, by the time we got to where science was. I’m not countin’ cucumbers. I want you to look at this. We put our eyes on the workings of nature not us, as if that would change the world and make us live with one another well.
What was early scientists thinking? They established a model, and to get right down to the business of us, the making of the human being, was that akin to heresy? Now folks, what do you want to look at to be safe, how many items dance on the head of a pin or study the universe to systematize it?
Let’s be crystal clear. Science deals with the environment too and the damage we’ve done to it and the danger that’s put us in, but human choices made these decisions that have put us at risk. How self-centered they are, how monetary gain. Change the human change the environment so we don’t run amok.
Did I just spell out change? Why has the focus been on objects of nature, I mean in the intention of science? Momma don’t make your babies grow up to be cowboys. [sing lineto tune of the country songwith similar title] Well I lost the rodeo. Can we talk about small minds and violent natures that live in boxes? / I grew up in this milieu. I could say policemen or rodeo clown, or even schoolteacher, but the exceptions would pile up, and I can’t show you what’s happenin’.
How can I tell you we are a tortured device? We do not produce good human beings. Just look at the world. Do you know how violated everybody is? Do you know how mean? We are still guerrillas, even your newspaperman and mother with her child. We are not a functional society for the good of us. We have animal hierarchy and just let people die or rot in misery. We are a selfish lot. We are not our brother’s keeper, and we do not love our neighbor like ourself. We make war with him.
No gentil people would agree with me. They’re soft and warm. They treat their brother kindly. They go to church and pay homage to society, or they have the right liberal opinions and treat everybody equally. Do you know how immature you are? Watch yourself in transactions you get shortchanged, or where your opinion is busted, or you find someone you don’t like, or you’re brought up against your unconscious, and you watch it take over. You react and show your immaturity.
This comes from upbringin’, from where your family put their hand, their voice, their feelings, and their directed-toned thoughts. Now science would not say this. It’s not there yet. It won’t do that, look that closely at us when we’re in momma’s lap, in bed with daddy, at the dinner table bein’ reamed for somethin’ we done, or just sittin’ on stools with the family in our little private milieu.
We can’t put lenses there, and we don’t know how to get at that space and nobody knows we’re lookin’. We could’ve solved this a long time ago, but science didn’t see that we are behaviorally made. Put genes in the shotgun they come from behavior too, however many diseases get in the way.
Audible, we saw a destiny. It wasn’t religion. It grew larger than mankind. We’re in the apple in the trees now. We can’t get out of our underwares. We still slap children, make them feel uncomfortable with themselves. We breed disease. We don’t know how to handle children, and our world’s a mess because of it.
How can I get you to see this newspaperman, scientist studying nature? Who else would we look to for change? A politician’s a ninny-gag. The clergyman reads from a book and doesn’t see change except to be more Christian. I bring a new thing upon the Earth that we haven’t seen in awhile, as the poet lands Earth.
I bring you essays on living through my personal share that can see through the walls of humanity and show things even cameras can’t capture. I can show you the inner workings of our species, and the dice is on the table. I can hunt you in corners and show how this makes us mad. I can show the pathology of mankind and the rule book of disease that puts rabids among us, and I can chip away at your armor and show you your snakeskin, the hidden fount of your wrath, and you are as policy as the rest of us.
I do this with a divine eye that looks in on things, and I have found the hidden fount of poetry, new for the times we wear, a new font of poetry that speaks to us living men and women to bring our heights to the sun.
I am not a caged animal. I have a freedom in my room that walks on mountaintops. I am a receptivity to God. I hear the angels sing. Healing lives in my top drawer, and I let it out and sing to you the heavenliness of its smile. I can do more than that. I can rise the sun in your eyes and reveal to you the secret of the universe, the real person you are beyond time. I can bring you to the Silence that empties our race of all its cares and brings enlightenment into the room. I can hold your hand to the well of soul and have you touch base with forever. These things I have seen and been, where moments meet me in the well of change.
Do you see me there? Every impossibility meets its gun. I’m taller than you in that I have met my own impossibility and let God handle it, but I did not neglect my duty to pay. So I’m aligned with the times to give us living Earth. This is not a handmaid’s tale that robs us of our own divinity. We have it on our tops, and we will wear this one day in clear and certain skies. Time’s the animal we wait on now, but time is not our keeper. The hidden divinity is all across our tops in every movement of time.
Right on. I have some stature to gain. I want Silence to enter my room, but the world keeps swellin’ up. I tarry there. It’s not an impossible situation, but it’s bigger than I am. I’ll just put on my hat and let grace still me. It’s an office I wear, concentrating with no thoughts in my head bound for the Silence. I can’t get past the thoughts of the day, but I can ride the quiet for minutes or hours. It’s a warfare you know. They know you’re close, and the world steps in and robs you of your peace. Dangnabbit, I chase the Silence away.
They carry your name in the wind, the lovers of sky, if you’ve seen past the boundaries thin Earth. You are a flame shot up there that kissed the night goodbye. I’m hope in your room. Don’t let me down. Can you see me now? [the last verse came watching the movie The Summer Book walk its way into my heart]
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?
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.
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.
August 2023 Military Memories Competition (on the internet site Together We Served)
Which song do you connect most to your time in military service? What specific memories does this song bring back for you?:
Aug 17, 2023, 3:43 AM
The Eye of the Tiger
It was a hot June afternoon at Camp Mackall, North Carolina, and we shuffled off the buses amid the yelling of NCO instructors shouting for us to line up shoulder to shoulder, our bags at our feet. It was a scurry; it was a hustle; we were hassled. There were over two hundred of us, not enough room for the place inside the gate we were, and so the line was a long L shape. I could feel my heart in my throat. This was it, what I’d been waiting for since I was seven and saw John Wayne in The Green Berets at a local drive-in. The Duke looked like a giant on that big screen, his green beret the headgear of a hero. At that moment, 1968, the Vietnam War was a nightly feature on the six o’clock News, small clips of U. S. soldiers at rest and in misery a staple of my childhood. At the movies it was just my dad and I, as this was a man-thing between us, and you must pardon me for such a masculine pronoun. He had wanted to join SF when it was being formed, or somewhere around that time, but he had decided not to reenlist.
The aspiration came to me. Sitting there absorbing every minute of that movie, it hit me like a self-realization: this was what I wanted to be. I don’t think he realized the weight of that in my consciousness because, when I told him, he looked down at me—we were in the front seat of a 1965 Mustang—and he smiled that patronizing smile adults give little kids when they are so earnest at being ridiculous. I was pigeon-toed and had asthma, a very small, little thing of a boy. “You know son, they select only the best for that.” He tried not to let on that he thought I was a weakling, but it came through in his incredulous smile. It didn’t matter. I knew I would be selected because I was the best. Of course I was. After all, I was the center of the world. At least that’s what my eyes and ears told me, seating my vision and hearing in the dead center of everything; smell, touch and taste put me there too, not to mention my thoughts, as you only hear your own. Those cheats—it’s a big and very disappointing fact of childhood that you discover your senses have been cheating you; you are not the center of the world, or, to put it more how it is: everybody else thinks they’re the center too.
One SF instructor was coming down one side of the L, and another was coming down another. They would stand in front of the SF candidate (we have to get one thing straight: the term Green Beret is for Hollywood; it’s called Special Forces, SF for short, and no, Rangers are not Special Forces). He would look you up and down and move on. The one that stood in front of me began to laugh. I became indignant, but of course I couldn’t show that. He said something like, “You, you want to be SF?!” I heard some splashes of laugher down the ranks. I burned inside. I think I said, “Yes sergeant!” but I don’t remember. It happened that I no longer had asthma, but I was super skinny and was still pigeon-toed, which really showed when I ran, and we’d had to run to get in line. I wasn’t the smallest in the class, but almost. The smallest guy had made the mistake of getting the SF patch tattooed on his arm before starting the Q course, and folks, you just don’t do something like that. He was hounded by the instructors until he quit, which did take awhile. I think he got to Phase II, as I remember him being hounded on a ruck march on Smoke Bomb Hill back at Bragg. At any rate, I don’t remember anyone standing in front of him and laughing on that fateful day (they hadn’t seen his tattoo, I gather), a day I’d be grateful for. It gave me the gumption to keep going. I had something to prove.
Enter “The Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor. It was 1982, and that song was at the top of the charts. Cliché today, back then that song was real. Incidentally, that was also the year the movie First Blood came out, and I saw it in a theater full of SFers, SF candidates and paratroopers from the 82nd Airborne. When the line in the film was spoken, “Those Green Berets, they’re real bad asses,” the theater erupted in the spurious noise of young men trying to sound like beasts. You know, that never sounds right. Anyway, right there in that line of men, just inside the gates of the greatest challenge in my young life so far, to win the green beret, I started singing that song in my mind. It was the part, “rising up to the challenge of our rival,” that really got me motivated. I have to explain here a little of the layered workings of our minds, specifically that mechanical part that just starts repeating things in the background of our conscious mind, especially songs, in odd moments. If you take the time to consider the moment, chances are it’ll be one that relates to that song, not in every instance, but in many I’ve found. Anyway, [1] it set a president. Anytime I got into trouble or wanted to quit, which was damn near every day, I either played that song in my heart and mind, or it just rose up in my mechanical mind playing on queue. I let it move me. It gave me strength; it gave me hope. I rose to that challenge with the help of that popular tune. I became a Green Beret, and you’ll have to pardon me for sounding Hollywood. It sounds so much better now than SFer in the early evening of my life.
It did fail me once though. I was in Robin Sage, Phase III. The G chief had given me the task of doing a recon before a body snatch mission, and that means kidnapping someone. I was a Sergeant E-5, an 11B2P, airborne infantry, and I was supposed to have a lot of experience in the field in my m.o.s. I had very little. I’d spent a year in the Horse Cavalry Platoon at Ft. Hood (now called the Horse Detachment), and other than being on a runaway wagon an hour before the Inaugural Parade for Ronald Regan, in Washington, D.C. in 1980, I hadn’t really gotten my juices going, and after that I spent about a year in a Pathfinder section doing mostly static line parachute demonstrations for Ft. Hood, never going to Pathfinder school, with very little actual field duty. As an SF candidate on a mock A team, composed of 12 people, I was in charge of half of the team. I was to lead my half on the body snatch mission, and so I had to go and get eyes on the target, alone and in the dark. That usually wasn’t a problem for me, like it was for many of the candidates. We as a species are so herd sour it’s not even funny. My dad had made me walk alone in the woods at night, or ride a horse alone for miles in the darkness, and if I didn’t do it, he’d threaten to whip me with the belt he had in his hand, not the best way to overcome fear, but I did get used to being alone in the woods at night. It’s off target, but he also made a slide for life over the pond we swam in (I was 10), so to get me to overcome my fear of heights. He was a serious man-maker, and I don’t cuss him for it, but, like I said, it wasn’t the best way to overcome fear, using the fear of a whipping to get me to face my fears. When he whipped me, he left welts on my legs and butt, and a bucking horse, the dark, or a high place were preferable to that.
So normally I would’ve been fine, but this time it was different. There was a Christian militia out there beating up SF candidates and taking their weapons. That news had sent a shiver of fear through our Robin Sage. I dreaded going out there on that recon, some several klicks from the G base. It was a mostly follow the railroad tracks sort of journey, and I arrived quite easily at the road the jeep was to be going down carrying the person we had to snatch, which was to be at 9 o’clock the next night. I hid in the bushes and mixed coco beverage powder, milk powder, and a couple of sugar packets together, making a Ranger pudding. It was my favorite thing to make out of a C ration, a comfort food that didn’t give me the comfort I wanted in that instance. I tried to shake off my fear, but then I heard men running on the tracks, and I looked, and sure enough, there were two men hightailing it down the tracks from the direction I’d come. It was the Christian militia looking for me. They must’ve seen me somehow. “The Eye of the Tiger” played in my mind, and whether I actually played it or it just played in my mechanical mind I don’t remember, but whatever the case it didn’t work, and I ditched the song in my thoughts, replacing it with, “Oh my God they’re after me!” And I got the fluff out of there, after a little wait to make sure they were far enough away. I think it was about 8:30, just a half hour before the scheduled jeep. I arrived at camp sometime later, relieved I’d made it, and I went to report to the G chief the militia were in the area. He wasn’t there, but one of his assistants was. “You idiot! That was the G chief going to town.” He had gone on a pogey bait run with an assistant. “You mean it wasn’t the Christian militia?”
It bears mentioning that, under interrogation by the local Sheriff, the SF candidate that had started the whole Christian militia thing had confessed he’d made it up to cover up having his weapon stolen from a wall locker in the 82nd Airborne barracks. He’d left Robin Sage and gone to meet some friends in the 82nd, to have a night on the town, stowing his M-16 in his friend’s wall locker. Big mistake. Someone stole it. After an initial, “What the hell do I do” moment, he concocted the plan, or that was how it was told to me. It’s amazing how such fine details go through the ranks. He had his friends rough him up some so to look like he’d been beaten up, and he went back to Robin Sage and told the G chief and his team leader, a captain, the big lie. Officers had recently started going though the Q Course with the enlisted, to make it harder for officers, who had up to that time gone through what was termed ‘The Gentlemen’s Course’. All this happened because a female captain had passed the course, and in those days, that was not to be, and they ended up failing her on a technicality after the fact. (For the record, I think she earned the beret.) I never learned what happened to that poor fool who just had to go party with the paratroopers. (82nd infantrymen were our OpFor during Robin Sage.) He did not become an SFer I’m pretty sure. What a gust of fear he stirred up, as I wasn’t the only SF candidate to swallow it, but I might admit I swallowed hard. Yeah, fake news is dangerous.
Hands down, the most poignant and pressing moment when “The Eye of the Tiger” saved my ass was back at Camp Mackall, at the end of the course, negotiating the infamous SF obstacle course. I swear to God, I heard a man break his thigh on the Dirty Name two events from there. The snap sound was sickening. My biggest moment of truth of the whole six months of SF training was a piece of cake to many if not most other candidates. You had to crawl 10 or 20 meters (it was miles to my mind) through a culvert that was about a meter underground, and it was full of SF candidates moving very slowly. I was so claustrophobic I could hardly ride an elevator without panic rising. I had a terror of tight places. There was an instructor at the top of the pit that led down to the entrance to the tunnel, and there wasn’t one at most of the other events. It seems I wasn’t the only claustrophobic candidate. I went down and looked into the tunnel and saw the men on their hands and knees moving slowly in it, just enough to make me hop back out of the pit and beg the instructor to let me skip it. He told me if I didn’t go in I didn’t pass, and here we were at the end of the course, and did I want to fail now? He wasn’t a jerk. Well, the only thing to do was play the song, this being the rival of rivals, and I made a conscious decision to play it in my mind; it didn’t just suddenly start playing in the mechanical mind. After a moment or so of letting that song motivate me, I jumped down there and went into the tunnel. About halfway I panicked, just went berserk, the men behind me groaning and complaining, as I’d come to a complete halt, but in my thrashing around, not going forward at all, I hit my head on the concrete above, and that snapped me out of it, and I made it through that tunnel. Everyone behind me was relieved. The feel of the open air after that battle, it did not smell like horse dung or the fear of night, let me tell you.
Our class was 6-82, the numbers designating the date, month and year, of that class of the Special Forces Qualification Course. When we came to attention as a class, we yelled, “6-82 WETSU!” the acronym meaning we eat this shit up, and I really did eat that shit up. When we first started the course, we were taken to an auditorium at the JFK Special Warfare Center. Some field grade officer stood at the mic on stage and told us to look at the man to our right and left. He said at the end of the course they wouldn’t be there. Sure enough, when we graduated, they marched us back into that auditorium, and two thirds of us were missing. I got a big surprise and made the Commandant’s List; the top 15% of the class. It happened too that I was called upon the stage to receive an ARCOM for becoming the Soldier of the Year of III Corps and Ft. Hood. I was so embarrassed, and the surprise on my fellow classmates’ faces, well, it didn’t say I was the best among them. The center of the world thing, it had vanished a long time ago. Every single day through that course I was sure I’d fail. I just racked up a lot of points. When others were kicked back in their tent during land navigation, let’s say, where we lost most of the class, I was out there doing it, every practice run. Pardon me if tears are welling up writing this. I am very proud to have won the green beret.
You know how it is as you get old. You look back on your life a lot. If I could pick a time to return to in my life, it would be to be back in the Q Course. That was the time of my life, and I only knew at the time it was tough, and I couldn’t wait for it to end. Isn’t that just so human? I’m listening to “The Eye of the Tiger” now, my headphones on as I write this. I’m in that tiger’s eye once again at 62. I’ve just published three books on most of the major e-book sites on the net, and I’ve stood up and spoken my own personal truth, with courage and sincerity, without hatred and anger, but I have little doubt most of you will not think me the best among us, but it’s in self-sacrifice that we are at our best. I’ve been seeking spiritual enlightenment for these past 30 years, and that’s not something you get to by rules and regulations, or even the one, two, and three of steps. You wing it in such a way you win it. Life is so short to live in line. You must understand that Green Berets aren’t soldiers who always go by the book. We are unconventional, and that means thinking and living outside of the box. SF, please don’t ever forget that. In any event, you can read my military memoir here, which is patterned after the service reflections of Together We Served, called An American Story: https://harms-end.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/07/an-amercan-story-3.pdf
[1] I’ve edited the story since the competition, from “I have to explain here…” to the word “Anyway,” and in the three other places the mechanical mind is mentioned in the story, the first later in the same paragraph and in the 6th and 8th paragraphs.
Harm's End 