A video-photo-poem, my own design, on its material level this is a promotional video for the Auroville Dog Shelter in Auroville, India. It’s the aim of this video art to take that material into the spiritual realms and beyond. To send donations to the shelter, go to this link: http://www.aurovilledogshelter.com/
Tag: spirituality
The Damage We Do to Earth
Is by human nature human nature changed?
Let’s defeat our purpose.
Let’s go around the Mulberry pole again.
Let’s just not listen to our teachers.
I will by human nature outcast this person,
in the middle of a human unity project,
where the Integral Yoga was set down on Earth,
and I will do this willfully and strongly,
not caring for the consequences.
This is how it’s done,
if you want to protect the group from someone.
You don’t give them also divine eyes,
and you give them no public venue,
and by that I mean you keep their voice unheard,
and you ghost them forever and ever without end
in your little social bubble.
It’s high time we changed that,
in such a powerful place as ours
that holds such meaning for the Earth.
Are you with me?
I think not.
The opposite poles of human unity,
that’s the whole way to rape the system,
when we keep them apart.
I’m a whirlwind of the proper material.
Don’t you confuse me with panic.
I have my rocking chair,
my golden years.
I am the toilet that speaks
one more time.
I just want you to consider your own goodness.
Why would you castigate me?
Because God’s the author of punishment,
and God’s called you to punish me?
Sri Aurobindo gave this commandment:
thou shalt punish the wayward sadhak?
The Mother despised sin
and dealt out punishments to people?
The Integral Yoga hates sin?
The One cannot stomach me?
Let’s look at your business.
You don’t know who you are.
You are not the sadhak with the name you call.
You are not the Aurovillian you sign your name as.
You are a person beyond time.
You can’t get this right.
You think it’s some far away,
and you are supposed to act in human terms.
The Zeitgeist says it;
you carry it out.
There were times and there are places
I would not be the ass among you.
Your morality is relative to the times.
You can’t see straight
when you face a sinner
your town and country hates.
This is rock bottom being human.
You see it unleashed on the globe,
this breach of oneness.
We are killing each other over it.
Oh Islamic State was a model for our eyes.
They thought they were justified
in bringing the hell they did
to punish people,
or the Nazi and the Jew.
The scapegoat they made
was another attempt at Nature
running something into the ground
in her symbol wrought her blind actions speak.
The availability of the Jew as the scapegoat
came to show us we wear scapegoating shoes
as the modus operandi of ego-led society.
You don’t have a field for this:
where we take our scapegoats and make them human again.
You just hate
and justify your hatred
by the human mass.
You are not godly citizens.
You burn witches.
You have been given a vehicle of thought
unparalleled in the history of thought
to arouse your stomach,
to change your heart,
to detach from this human clay
the pettiness of human life,
the vile emotions we feel for one another
and see beyond the play,
and bring yourself out of this turmoil
and into the light of day.
You quote these fields all the time.
The Mother said this.
Sri Aurobindo wrote that.
The Integral Yoga can heal anything.
I have been among you 20 years showing that,
but you cannot see it.
You don’t want to.
You will not apply the lessons you’ve learned Integral Yoga.
You will just deny,
hate,
and castigate,
and as a group you do this.
What do I do to bring you to peace
over this person named Donny Duke?
I offer you my home
for a station of tea,
and you won’t even answer me,
stubbornly justified in your ill will
by human morality that has no part God.
I am the reason for Auroville’s fall,
and I graft upon it
the deception of a poet
that hides his sins with godly words,
wants to commit them among you if you but let ‘im,
deceiving the elect with holy lore.
You don’t know the price of sin.
You don’t get away with it,
even if no one finds your ruse.
Say you’re a sadhak close to God.
You have no way to hide,
and you learn to do what you’re told
to get out of your mess.
It does not take forever.
Low and behold I have sinned and healed that sin
and given the beauty of art
to give you examples of healing’s ways,
and now it’s reached astounding.
You will not sit up and take notice.
You will not even let it in your groups.
No one can read it.
No one can see it.
You hate art
the scapegoat of the day makes,
the one hated among you
by an agreement of the times.
Ladies and gentlemen,
will you castigate me for all eternity,
name my sins and how ugly they were,
without ever seeing the unexpected good that can come from woeful deeds,
without ever admitting that God has a plan
even for one such as me?
This is stubborn willfulness
out of the hour of God,
away from the lessons of truth.
Who is the greatest sinner?
I forgive you of your self-righteousness.
I understand your state.
I don’t blame you for being human,
but we can’t stay in this state.
We are called to greater life,
and we have to go together or none.
The people that refuse,
God just takes more time with them.
Are you one of those?
This poem was recently rejected by Collaboration, A Journal of the Integral Yoga, whom I have submitted numerous poems to over the years, hands down the publication I’ve submitted to most, because it is a publication of our yoga, it’s name claims inclusiveness, and it’s by fellow Americans, but they have not published a single poem. I have this theory, and I submitted this poem to prove it to myself at least, that they will never publish a poem I submit, regardless of the quality and truth of the poem. This poem explains why.
In other news, the admin of the Facebook group Friends of Auroville approved it, although the other Auroville Facebook groups I submitted it to didn’t, and it was submitted to Auroville Today and Auroville News, and Auroville Today at least replied rejecting it. Auroville News did not reply this time, and they too I’ve sent poems to over the years.
A Picture to Heal My Headquarters
This photo-poem was posted to Twitter/X February 11, 2024. In vision it came to post it here. All photos by the author except photo one, which is by Douglas
Look at Pearls on the Mountaintop
I’m a bleeding article from your last test,
a hyper-hypotenuse.
I say the line.
It’s a dynamic field.
We don’t get there soon.
We don’t even see it for awhile.
I hate to be the seeding can.
I’m not celebrated in the streets.
I can’t get my name across to change the world,
but I tell you where God’s made,
Mr. and Mrs. People.
God grows distant here.
I am so tired of institutions.
The institutions of marriage and family break our social fabric
in adhesive bonds.
We can’t get away from them.
They test our social fabric
with what can’t be named,
a guttural possessiveness that puts us all in hordes.
We tarry there
eating each other alive.
It’s needed for our ship,
a family of parents that brings kids into the world.
It’s not what we need to survive.
It’s what we need to get rid of
as the managing arm of society,
as our social fabric dies.
We can’t raise kids that way:
listen to me or die.
My life you have made whole by your coming,
and I will rub your nose in it all life long.
You can’t be free from me
where you go against my purpose for your life,
my need you for my own ends.
Society balks at this:
give that child freedom
to manage freedom.
Why must he live his parents’ life?
Why must she be the daughter of their destiny?
Why do we have to do this all the time:
uphold the parents’ rights
to determine the will of their child?
Can you count this
in terms of freedom?
Step back parent
and let your child play outside
no rulers present,
no supervisor gag models.
Alarming this is
on humanity’s plate:
Big Brother rules the child
just in everyday parenting.
The fear of outside unsupervised doors,
sex resides there, doesn’t it?
Your fear of sex rules the show.
Your fear of sex rules everything.
They get scared
of their own front teeth
we put sex trafficking models on them,
a child molester behind every bush.
They don’t know what it means to be normal
with the fear the news media raises.
Add that to their own possessive accounts,
the parent that raise them,
to guard that child at all costs
from perceiving another parent in someone else,
and you just explode at the seams
with a child that can’t reckon itself,
and they will grow up unable to handle society.
A new institution will make the new man.
A small group of people family size
will orchestrate the new human being.
They still visit their families
every damn week,
maintain those close ties,
but any kid that can relate a dream,
old enough to,
becomes part of a dream group
their dream calls them to.
This is a sadhana watch ladies and gentlemen,
and a handful of people call its name.
They are near the child’s home
forming all the time.
It’s what society does now,
spiritual growth.
No clogs in the machine,
children will grow up to change the world.
A spiritualized society
comes about from its own accord.
It rises from the soul in things,
and we almost see glimpses of it now.
No government can put this in place,
nobody that makes steps the criteria to get there,
and no organization makin’ people do it.
I’m a sadhana watch ladies and gentlemen
speaking its piece,
and we’ve lost our youngest member
to parental overreach,
Nithish,
a prototype of the new human being.
His stuff is on the web for you to watch.
His tale is told
in these crawl spaces of his life.
Jealous of the songs he was makin’,
jealous of the music,
his parents made a big mistake.
They tried to take out his soul
in great abusive waves
that tore down his life.
No reason for this
except jealousy.
It’s heartrending.
Their cruelty destroyed him,
and he was left a nervous wreck
scared they would smother him in his sleep.
In such an environment he turned off the new human being.
Betrayed by God,
whom he adored,
he stood helpless facing time
a growing rage against the machine.
Parental rights determined all,
why I’m fighting for his life.
You hear me now, don’t you?
I can’t do it anymore,
just stand by and write poems.
I’m a half today.
The other half is his,
and we make a whole of action.
Finally, inevitably,
we come together on freedom.
Hear us Lord?
It’s Your horse we ride
the day we certainly dare,
the day we certainly keep.
Great Fields Earth
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.
Another Jacob
You’re on live.
You’re still switchbacks.
Let’s see if I can find ‘im,
wife beater.
High on our side,
you’re the premium.
You prove the words.
Put you in the dustbin.
Where you think you are buddy?
This is Afghanistan?
I’m gonna be sayin’
I’m really glad you’re here
in the not too distant future.
Agreed,
don’t let him in.
See you tomorrow.
A new episode,
Aimless By Elvis.
We’re 9:30.
Fresh took from the Mother
they did not realize.
Higher law
would you challenge?
Listen to this bullshit.
I like that medical.
I like that emergency.
Alongside
I don’t wanna bother people.
I don’t want to fucking bother people.
So we pretend we’re okay.
I’m the manager
of a showcase word
that’s totally unacceptable in society.
No one listens to it,
except a few who know what it means,
because they write the stuff,
or it’s in their hands to read.
The city of dawn don’t like it,
won’t even give it the time of day,
who it’s for
where its record keeps.
They don’t listen to it.
They don’t want it.
It’s a waste of time to write it.
I look at the long of it,
and help is on these pages
I can’t get out to the public,
understandings that would bring peace,
revelations enlightenment.
I can heal,
and I can just listen to sins.
I sit here flabbergasted
the world does not want to heal,
and no one wants to face reality,
and I’m reality’s keeper,
the healer of old wounds.
I can’t count this.
I can’t see its shores.
There’’s no end to the proud ignorance we all share.
There’s no listenin’ to our faults.
There is only straight ahead
bullshitting ourselves
we are honest and sincere,
or just say fuck it screw everybody
I want my MTV,
a cultural allusion
to I want whatever pleasure I can get
to get lost in it,
and some say really wanna hurt people
and let that world end.
Where are we today?
We can’t see ourselves.
We are not there,
honest to God trying
to better ourselves,
to make the world clean,
to have a functioning society.
We hate each other,
and sometimes with good reason,
but who thinks hate heals?
It destroys our world.
It’s a poison in your inner life
goading your neighbor to sin,
like pick up a gun and shoot people with it.
And here we are on the airways
putting thoughts in people’s minds
an unconscious contest.
We are not ready for everybody thinks
in the same pool of blood.
We can’t see that,
and it’s not a belief you fit into.
Painstakingly over mountains of years,
this comes up in dream and vision.
You see the inner connection
interpreting dream symbols
and see them manifesting in the outer world.
You have to see it for yourself.
It comes up again and again.
This in itself would revolutionize society,
make us kind to each other
in the wheelbarrow of our try,
make us join together
as one people
that holds humanity at stake.
You can’t see it if you’re a scientist
studying dreams.
Their field won’t allow it—
too many rules,
but take a choir and put it together,
who sing their dreams to one another over many long years,
and you will definitely see it
in the songs that you sing,
and you will change the world.
God no,
you won’t even get it to listen to it,
and I’m comin’ from one choir.
Hear me speak?
I don’t know what I’m lookin’ at.
Check this out,
there’s this guy on the radio
crammin’ religion down our throats,
the nut,
magical thinker pattern picker-outer
where they’re not there,
magical thinking fool.
We can’t get around this
introducing consciousness into the picture
in a world of material thinkers
who bargain for the day.
AI speaks
and everybody listens,
or enough that endanger our world.
Can I crawl this to you,
an innate speaking system
that spiritualizes mankind
in great healing waves
your own inner voice speaks?
How God you have to be to get there,
how many trials.
It heals humanity,
like a rocket test.
It won’t make the news
because it’s individually run,
a healing system on Earth,
where the Earth loads itself
all shame and everything,
where we don’t want to see.
This is the great test of healing’s ways.
You see the rulebook?
I can’t get this across.
So the city laughs at me
you stupid little thing.
Got no time for your poetry.
We are too busy with our not see.
Can I spell this out?
Auroville created for great change,
to create among its selves the new human being,
based on oneness and I do care,
that brings humanity to the mountaintops,
is closed to it when it comes,
laughs the poet off the pier,
just wants him out of town.
Alright listen up.
I’m here,
and I’m not the new human being,
but I got recipes children
that’ll put this in our hands.
There, there now no.
I’m a fire speaker on your shores,
and I continue with it now
you know reluctantly all systems go.
Art in the nature of its see
looks at us through tall glasses.
We think we’re the audience.
We propaganda time.
Art,
when it comes from its source,
makes us move mountains
to see ourselves,
and therein lies its price.
It’s not beauty you’re looking at,
or ugly turned inside out.
You’re lookin’ at yourself in mirrors of our kind,
so we can sit with it awhile
and put the light on our lives.
Can you find art today?
A little bit of Heaven
is the maker’s bill we’ve lost
in how it's made,
inspiration’s golden ring.
Would you throw this away
because it wrestles with sin and vice,
wrestles with the Gods
to bring Auroville here
to bring down God here on Earth
unpunished Prometheus,
ordered by the Gods no?
You tell me.
Another poem declined by the private Facebook group Auroville International but approved and posted by the Facebook group Auroville, INDIA.
In Sudden Splendor Ridin’ Rainbows
Upholder of consciousness,
can I call you a name?
You just got laid off,
and you’ll get laid off again,
and there’s nothin’ to get ready for tomorrow.
You’re not a big man on campus yet.
You’re an embarrassing little thing,
and no one will hear you sing.
This is not standin’ in the air.
This is not wide enough silly in the air.
You’ve got tall trees growin’,
and you’ve reached the limit of your room.
Things get bigger.
They envelope in consciousness.
Wow I believed you this time.
I thought somethin’ was gonna happen.
I don’t even worry about the fish,
the fallout from this.
Nobody understands my shores.
Take ‘im away Bob.
The irony in all this,
and I have the light that shines on Earth.
Foiled again
at the book nodes.
Where’s my superman,
my help you with it?
I’m not just a fly on a coffee table.
I’ve actually seen what I saw.
Answer your question:
your art and poetry put out,
look what’s happened.
Nobody wants to see you.
They’re all put out,
and they’re hungry
from guess room again.
How can you say such things you measly little piece of paper?
And we shut you down.
You are not making us mediocre;
we are.
Now let’s ride to the end of this chapter.
You won’t get it,
and I will stand by your work.
You’ve got a major 2 o’clock comin’.
It’s in your show/window now.
[two above words heard spoken simultaneously]
Don’t sit just there read somethin’.
He hadn’t looked around.
He was not just a horse in time
courting sincerity.
He grafted you upon the tree of life
where you mattered and held count.
One,
they don’t know
you play ball with God and life and time,
and second,
they don’t know there’s more than what they’ve got.
This played with you,
and it didn’t mean anything
a thing you did,
and you were not big in that boy’s eyes
as you saw him lookin’ at yah.
You were not important to him,
as you saw him glow.
This bothered yah
and really made you think.
Listen to her,
listen to that boy in pain.
You alleviate it and he knows it,
and he can’t wake up to himself yet.
That’ll come soon enough.
Oh wonderful thing
hide in Their character,
hide on Their tongue.
To discover the hidden reasons of the Gods. [vision with the line of my own hand writing this in cursive on a sheet of paper]
To come down on student terms
and find out why They tick.
Why are They a decade ago,
never where man is right now?
They don’t know people like we do,
and They can’t gauge human life
in our exact location.
They are tall and kind,
but They propose to us things we can’t do.
They do not understand the human state.
They punish us for our condition,
and there’s a discrepancy between time and fate
that no amount of mercy can absolve.
We are lone here,
surrounded by Gods.
They know our every thought and deed,
climb your mind
like it’s Their jukebox,
but they don’t know how to understand you in the ways of sin.
They say no.
They don’t heal.
They do not integrate the mountain with the sea.
They meet each other and collide.
They are on our backs all the time
to ever showcase new lore,
to be an instrument for Them,
but they cannot reach us with the love we need
when we need it,
and they will let us go down
doing Their work.
They will take from us our most beloved
just to test us.
They will treat us like human souls not like breathing men.
They can’t be trusted.
They will always put Their work first.
In the quarries of the Gods
we labor under the breath of death,
and we don’t get out of it.
We don’t even see it.
We can’t know it’s there,
all the labor for the God,
least we separate our life from our sanity.
You can’t take a God’s force
bearin’ down on you,
a God’s thoughts.
They are too immortality for us.
They take on airs we cannot breathe.
They give us one commandment:
worship Them in time,
letting Them be the light of your life.
You cannot go astray from Them.
They will hound you in life’s deeps,
and you cannot stand against a God.
You can only pray.
Why am I telling you this?
The liberation from the Gods is our aim
in how we count human.
We don’t need Their scaffold
that stops us in midair,
that bullies us in time.
We don’t burn Their scaffold down.
We understand how inadequate it is.
We accept Their help
but go beyond it.
We go to the back of the plan,
what started all this universe and show,
a whole other order of being
testing limits for itself
where no limits are,
its growth by us
into the unimaginable of its see.
We are bringing this order down now
in the great upheaval of the Gods.
Can you fathom this change?
It’s a whole new way of doing things
that has harmony as its base
for righting wrong
and oneness as its lookout
for all it sees.
It does not shy away from one.
It incorporates all
into its grand plan.
It is the substance of itself
it’s planting into the universe.
It knows its great self by itself,
and it knows itself as all,
is not some cosmic God looking down
on the riddle of creation.
This way of doing things,
this Supermind,
knows by identity
and never strays from that.
It’s a Truth Consciousness.
It’s a vast Truth Consciousness,
the exact truth consciousness
ridin’ everything that is
behind its base.
It does not lie,
knows not error.
This is what we’re bringin’ down.
This is what we are.
It will change the world.
It’s what we need to see today.
It’s comin’.
It’s here,
and that’s the master plan.
It’s the truth of the universe
understandin’ time.
Look at it in the hours,
and you are in transformation,
God’s glow.
I show this to you now
with my head half in it.
I’m movin’ forward now
towards a completeness of my see,
towards supramental change
I see in my Lake,
the figure of Silent Mind
flagging me its approach.
I stumble and fall and can’t keep up,
and it’s an everyday pick me up,
but I can see it HD.
So I sing my songs
early morning vision brings,
so I can look out now
on what needs to be done.
You’re in my field today.
Hello,
are you there?
Auroville,
are you there?
The epicenter
of spiritual change,
modern life Auroville,
it can’t see itself.
It’s bigger than the sky no.
It grapples with human problems.
It grows its children
to grow nature in her room,
to be the normal round of human being.
It has high ideals
that are not in the hands of the city
in daily worth.
Impossible to describe,
the mounting towards a change in consciousness
that’s Auroville’s aim.
Human unity
will not field show.
Where is the city goin’?
Can you see ordinary
where Auroville meets its road?
No amount of spiritual-mongering can put it there,
the spiritual consciousness.
The gap between Auroville and her spiritual aims
throws Auroville out the window
as a city of spiritual change.
It’s a city of proud belief,
yoga tags,
conferences,
spiritual workshops,
sound gardens,
the green munchies.
These move the city along
a false bravado.
No spiritual revolution
seizes its day.
Can somebody tell me what we’re doin’
and why’s not the change?
We’re in plans with yesterday,
not the new planet
in the making now.
I ring this to you now.
Can you ring with me
and not vote me out?
What’s the plan?
It’s not the issues that divide us today.
Are you gonna help?
The drawback
for spiritual change
to say nothing.
We substance
where we change.
We tell you
in the manner befitting our service.
We tell you spiritual change,
how it’s happening
to us,
when we can tell it without spillin’ it,
the purpose of art and poetry
when you’re undergoing spiritual change.
You talk about it
the inner voice,
unprompted
by your decision making process.
You don’t let out a word,
otherwise.
Now it dawns on your community.
Got so many minions,
so black,
speakin’ in the voice of your word.
This is not a mere dictation.
It is a battle of the spiritual word.
Great variety sees that,
honed in
occasions.
We ride versatility to its source.
Okay I choir now.
Who inspires me but not the Gods?
The runner up
open to Supermind.
To see this distinction’s life and death
for the city.
Crucial for the city
to go beyond the Gods,
the strength of Overmind.
I explain to you now.
I explain to you how.
Lemmie guess,
you’re starlight?
The advent of Supermind
where Overmind opens to it,
you know this source,
the Mother and Sri Aurobindo,
their hills,
a few
that give us their glad tidings of wide birth.
Here we establish things,
put them in order.
On top of that
I show you a weapon master,
the rays of the Sun.
Insulated against it,
the Auroville that makes its bed,
that Auroville that goes international.
I have this title goin’ international,
The Writing on the Wall
Dummy’s Paradise.
You don’t know you’re Belushi’d out
a poet in Auroville
on comic stops.
It’s behavioral 9,
and it’s comin’ soon
to where you can see it
in Auroville’s front page.
It doesn’t suck they way they’re doin’ it either.
This latest poem is his Red Cross,
a fix it paper.
You know how it ends.
They’ve made their decision.
Just throw it out but keep the paper.
You too much for them,
and they Riviera the day.
Donny this looks terrible.
Thank you.
Finish the job.
I want a divine crossword puzzle.
You’ve got branches on it.
You’ve got the cookies stuff.
It’s delicious.
What do I do with the title?
Tell God to show up
a whole little ice cream.
We get our pieces together.
Larry Seidlitz,
empathy? identity?
Ah here,
declined.
Do you know what spirituality is?
To feel right at the zombies zone.
Donny draws the neach of us.
Speak a following a fluid law
and love from your mistakes.
It’s Auroville’s paper we need in Auroville’s hands,
true points of the consciousness of God.
Round house to an extraordinary boat on the sea,
we can lift the consciousness of God up to new heights
and stay there.
Can you count Auroville’s aim here,
her mission in words?
You climbed to the top of her mission with children.
I know;
it’s that background girl.
Nithisha not there.
He’s missing from action.
He reads his own music
a sad story,
and I’m mentionin’ firecrackers,
indo in human hearts.
How is the school?
You’re gonna help us out
then admire how beautiful it is.
This is his nanny,
Earthen Pull.
Now we met each other in consciousness.
I’m about the boy’s height,
and I’ve got a poem to show yah,
where we live,
talkin’ about consciousness one night
sharin’ pizza.
Open the door.
Watch how that decline button does things.
You miss the table with that.
You miss everything.
Can we call you Auroville International,
giver of gifts,
provider of boons?
You will delete me for this,
if I don’t hurry up.
I would like to stairway your mind.
Why is pretentious the first word that comes to mind?
How do you talk about facts
you know?
Hurry,
you gotta see this.
I have,
saw it with my own eyes
in just a seconds’ grab
up out the top of my head
to that nice familiar form
you know Yourself
perpetratin’ all these lives
without involvement in them,
like remains untouched
by the whole show.
Anyway I was up there.
Let’s go.
I am at the
period in this poem you hear me,
like really bold perfume
that talks about the important stuff.
Meanwhile on the ground I have reactions
and do my duties.
I don’t react half as much
as I used to.
I’m gettin’ round that.
Calmness is a commodity
that comes in long waves,
and then it goes out again.
I’m waitin’ for my boy to come home
so’s I can see it.
He’s safe and sound,
and that removes the ants
on my consciousness floor.
Children come first
in the scheme of things,
and I’m holdin’ mine
to safety.
Bear with me here.
You don’t know the half of it.
Okay now start your poem.
Can you leave me alone?
Come here mountain climber.
Okay do it,
behind the scenes you weren’t lookin’ for in her gala.
Where you goin’?
The party’s just gettin’ started.
Patience man patience.
You’re not gonna trip over wires.
Alright put your feet on.
We’re walkin’ to background love.
It’s an emergency.
Auroville’s dyin’
all over again.
It’s not the first time.
God gave her a bulletproof vest.
Bet you didn’t know that.
It doesn’t work sometimes,
as you can see now.
Roll a joint and pass the ammunition.
There’s a fight goin’ on in Auroville
over spiritual aim.
No worries,
many efforts
bless this mess.
And now you think I smoke pot.
It’s just a figure of speech
to unhand you.
It’s a flashpoint in Auroville,
and people don’t like it there.
The Mother said so
inflexibly no.
And you got her lists.
Not all of them work,
and she never got down to business
with the master plan.
I’ll tiny tiger this in myself,
somebody that listens to her quickly
in tales of the inner voice.
I don’t believe it’s me either,
but there you go.
My little boy was complainin’
the heaviness of the knowledge of God,
oh for example,
did you know daddy the world’s in pain?
He calls me grandpa.
I’m his spiritual teacher,
and he’s woken up to world pain,
bein’ yanked so hard by his own.
You got to know consciousness
as a spiritual aim.
Now let’s go to district 9
and give this poem some perspective
of the deepness of the knowledge of God.
He calls me master.
You know the relationship,
and they lesson there.
Wow, kangaroos,
and he really matures in that pouch.
That’s been keeping me here. [heard spoken in Nithish’s voice]
Gonna go soon,
back to daddy
and our spiritual endeavor,
the node of our relationship.
Where is it?
In that field of love.
Now the brass of Auroville
don’t stomach these waters.
You have to admit a little Reagan post.
Carrying a seditious act,
no I’m not.
You must be mistaken.
You must have me confused me with the wrong Donny.
The scaffoldin’,
it’s too much.
Find it on paper,
consciousness poem.
Huntin’ to see you again,
your big-eyed boy.
He lays in bed at night
sleepless worry,
and he can’t soothe himself.
Headaches and dizziness spell his day.
This is suffering.
Glued to him from the inner consciousness,
you manage to hold him
and speak into his mind
where his heart meets the road.
He knows you’re there.
I’m sorry sweetheart this is burnin’.
Warn title,
will you lie to me?
A terrible story
that come in the place of him?
Another body
than pain
he had to be aroused,
another program:
he loves the Mother.
She was something down
where you lost God.
You know what I mean:
you were born in my commitment.
Now I need yah to look up
and sound off the important test,
a poem in your stadium write
that helps us all to be feet
to the Mystery who cares,
balancin’ time on a rainbow,
the supramental transformation in children,
what is on your tops,
I kid you not,
waiting for Hollywood
to get with the lesson plan
and surpass Disney
there’s a child
in need of imagination.
Get it ate at the light
of the new world you’re figurin’
in the verse you’ve already written.
Hold on I’m comin’,
my sweet, beautiful boy.
Town’s end,
and miracle show up,
wonderful
ridin’ spiritual love.
Honestly,
this is brand new
eyes on God.
The above poem too was declined by the admin of the private Facebook group Auroville International. My muse wrote a short poem in response, suggesting what picture of go with it, “A picture of a rainbow,” before I even found that out, which I posted on their page and which will, no doubt, also be declined. Postscript: it was declined.
In Sudden Splendor Facin' Rainbows
No one has ever done this before.
I'm a threat to everybody's system of order.
I want a new world see,
and I want it to work,
and I want it to plan.
You delete that in Auroville,
too ordinary
to let the world happen there,
oh you bunch of men and women
blocking the Sun.
I'll tell everybody.
[a link I left to this post]
Auroville International
Auroville International (AVI) is a worldwide network aiming at the support of the development of Auroville in all its aspects. Founded in 1983 it is legally registered in the Netherlands, with a representation in 34 countries around the world – nine national centres, which are registered associations in their respective countries, and twenty-five liaisons, which may be smaller groups or single individuals.
It must be said that the Facebook group Auroville INDIA approved and posted this poem, as they have several others everyone else has declined.
In Dire Straits
This poem was sent to the editorial board of Renaissance (BharatShakti) of The Sri Aurobindo Society, who I’ve submitted poems to that use obscene language and present ideas people don’t like to talk about. It has been published by Edge of Humanity Magazine: https://edgeofhumanity.com/2024/11/11/harms-end-blog-by-donny-lee-duke-in-dire-straits/
We have that place where,
yep, you need to turn on that character light.
I would say he does not deserve the title respect
call him.
Thank you sadhak.
Nat started a story.
It was obscenity of being,
the crazy what’s up nails trauma
a bunch of us go through.
Are we on your calendar?
You’re nice and pretty.
Does that mean you’re good
in the sense of good to all of us?
We’ve got a world here in a tin can.
It hurts everybody.
You would not like a story that makes you mean.
Is that transformative?
Watch movies that’s all you see,
a blight of entertainment
“televised from the gulfs of Night” [from Savitri, an epic poem by Sri Aurobindo]
that tells stories
to pit you against one another,
to make your blood boil,
to let the demons in.
There isn’t a place on the planet it’s not
on your local TV.
This is what we’ve gotta get out of,
get back to our dream maker
as the one we watch and write.
Is that a perverted slam?
You would boil at the inner consciousness
because it pits you against your morality papers:
don’t say cuss words;
don’t mention sex;
don’t talk about getting your dick sucked when you were five
by your mother.
What have I just done?
I let the inner consciousness in
in language that grabs you and moves you,
that has the day on it,
that gives you a porn whereabouts
so many faces are into these days.
It hits you where you’re at
if you can’t tell right from wrong,
if you’re lost in all this sleaze.
We’re tryin’ to reach people not preach to them.
A dream comes out
from someone who suffered this
in the language that it felt like,
and the elect can’t take it
because they don’t know how to deal with it.
They’re into quotes of Sri Aurobindo and pictures of deity.
They look at spirituality as the cure
and not addressin’ what’s wrong
in the language that needs to.
Everybody just be nice.
Make your concentration daily
and let no wrong movements in.
Be cheerful and happy.
There’s no end to the advice
in spiritual seeking.
Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty of life.
Let’s use those quotes to solve problems.
The Mother and Sri Aurobindo are a wealth of that,
applied in ways you haven’t imagined yet,
because you’re religious and one-sided.
We need to heal,
so many of us.
You can’t imagine what it’s like
where hell has opened in humanity.
This is all over the globe,
terrible stories
that’ll make you cry
if you had your empathy on.
We need to heal the world first,
then spiritualize it,
and spirituality will be healing,
because that’s what it’s made for,
if it’s the soul involved.
You don’t know this.
Soul healing’s to you a preacher wrote.
It’s not test the limits of humanity
in making healing the order of the day.
This soul is wide and free.
You don’t know that either.
You look at the Gods of Overmind,
the lowest rung.
They’re moral and straight.
They have seen God in passing
one time maybe.
They are closest to us
in the ways of deity.
They make rules and regulations,
put experiments on vice
and get rid if it not heal it.
Our whole world is taken by Them.
It’s what we need to change
and bring a new order upon the Earth,
soul healing
in the dynamics of Supermind.
You don’t know how wide God is,
when it comes to the personal growth process of wholeness and healing. /
That’s been my path all along,
and it’s gotten acute where I show it to you,
all Sri Aurobindo’d.
What else can I do?
I’m his disciple
and a seer of his wisdom,
and I’ve been told to talk to you.
I’ve spent 25 years learin’ my craft,
a lifetime before that as a poet.
You can’t fault me
in preparation,
all prepared for yah.
Grab me by the balls will yah
and throw me to policemen,
or at least try to shut me up?
God’s will be done.
One editorial board member, Dr. Alok Pandey, who is listed as a “Member, Research Advisory Council, Sri Aurobindo Society,” replied to my emails, three times, the first: “May Her Grace be with you,” her meaning the Mother, the second: “What is tormenting your soul so much dear child?” and the third: “You are quite right. You seem to be an angry and arrogant brash revolting angel. I don’t find your poetry tasteful or even poetry. It is a blurting out of things stirring in your subconscious, not mind nor higher, but inframental forces. That’s my view about your poetry. By the way I am not part of any organization nor have any access to publishing poetries so you could perhaps try some other place or person. Good luck. May the Grace be with you.” No one else on the board or in that organization has replied.
Pain and Suffering
Control ball,
now you record it.
When night
go for it Nithish,
knock phone numbers.
If he gets caught he’s killed.
In Tamil the people who put worse seem very powerful.
I wouldn’t put it that way.
It’s just in good English we’re learning to mince the Devil with words. /
I’ve localized the economy,
and I’m takin’ English to new heights.
It’s not artificial anymore,
a poem that comes from inner sights.
I throw that devil out,
but I show ‘im to yah.
I don’t play with bones.
I heal them in your shelf.
What you got in the closet,
I ring around the rosy.
I’m not here to play dice.
I wanna get to the bones of reality
so that we can live here
and not ruin each other.
I wanna talk about it, you know?
I wanna get down to bloody business.
I wanna show you you
a danger
to let’s all grow up.
Will you find me?
I’m blacklisted for that.
Let me cough.
That danger I present
is right there among you.
I’m not pullin’ any punches.
I wanna heal myself and be free.
I mean I wanna be a proper human being,
no longer stupid.
I don’t wanna block my own trail,
get mad at the world
because I stumped my own toe.
I wanna forgive you
for the same stupidity.
I wanna look out on the world
and understand the miracle of each day.
I wanna see you in it
the very Self I touch with myself,
no cigars.
That means I’m right with you.
I hear my stomach growl,
and we all feed on each other like it’s conversation.
I’m learnin’ not to do that.
You would not know I feel you
when I’m just some guy you’ve met on the road,
or you’re my landlord or niece.
I cry for you sometimes.
Okay I cry for you a lot.
It’s really rough in here, you know?
There’s just so much pain.
They got buried in an earthquake,
a daddy holding his little child dead in a news story.
Can you imagine how that felt?
I’m tryin’ to wash away the tears
that we symbolize time,
and I’ve found out somethin’.
This is just a single show
in a movie house with infinite theaters,
and each one pulls on the next,
and each one supports the next.
We are its base,
the last of the free worlds
before Hell begins.
Of course we suffer.
We support Heaven.
Our blood, sweat, and tears
hold up Heaven,
all the ascending worlds.
It’s not cruel.
Existence has to have everything in it.
I don’t think we can measure how big it is,
and we are not the only world that suffers,
and we’re just innocent little children,
dumb like animals.
There’s a comic plan,
and our universe sucks on the Void
to bring existence out of nothing.
The devils rose,
an unforeseen consequence,
mad as hell existence be,
and they rape us in broad daylight,
and we don’t even see.
We are a banquet of the Heavens and the Hells,
and I am sorry;
I can’t gauge all the worlds
in their ascending hierarchies
or their status in Hell.
I’m tryin’ to take you somewhere—
understanding.
My little boy wants to know why there’s pain.
Do you know what they did to him?
It woke me up.
Now I’m a fish out of water,
a foreign man in not my land.
I’ve been shook up.
I don’t hear my music.
It’s not my culture I see around me.
It’s not even my language.
Do you know what that does to you?
It takes you out of your little world.
You have to confront reality
more on its terms.
You can spend more time in the environment of your consciousness, /
because you’ve got a strange world out there
that doesn’t speak to you
momma’s titties.
You ever live a life for spiritual change?
You wanna get enlightened?
I wanna be my true self above,
whom you are too,
though we’re individually wrapped,
but I’ve gotta be emptied before I can be filled, you know?
That’s enlightenment.
I put myself to the task.
I’m not sayin’ it right.
My soul puts me.
You gotta get there.
It’s the only way out—
up
Don’t you remember your last death?
It’s what everybody talks about on the other side:
“Goddamnit I missed
it again!”
Look I’m not some spiritual shoes you must put on
because I wear ‘em.
Now I’m really tryin’ to get out of this—
suffering.
Now I have seen enlightenment’s tale,
sat right in those shoes,
not long enough to stay there,
and I have seen Myself overhead,
sat in that Sun and watched it ray out,
and I’ve found the soul inside,
made the inner journey to Spirit
in innermost us.
It just accentuates your suffering
if you get these little tastes,
‘cause it’s so plain in your face you’re not there now.
But you want suffering to end?
Can you hear a threesome with your hands and feet?
Any one of them will get yah there.
Realize time
as a vehicle to get there.
We are not animals you see,
and this is not a world buttressed in the Void,
astonished at its meaninglessness,
wondering over its one-trip pony.
There is so much more than Earth
right here upon Earth.
The teeming worlds sing to us in our sleep.
We make contact with the dead.
Even in life’s little room,
we make measure with immensity.
I’m givin’ you God,
what we are becoming,
what even matter becomes.
It’s all there.
Once you see God you’re safe.
Bullshit.
Every devil in the neighborhood will come to fool you,
alarmed for the end of their rule.
Sometimes a world devil steps in
and makes you pay for every man’s sin.
Here’s the bull:
if it’s all God who are these?
Knowledge of God is terrible,
but you forgive ‘im for it.
You’re in a movie.
Neo seein’ the Matrix,
you get there.
What a goof in moviemaking—
take that Matrix and make that a real steak that traitor’s eating. /
Take that Matrix there.
Oh the bones of analogies,
you can’t make them right.
Bhakti, do you hear it?
I’ve got it for the whole damn thing,
but if I stump my toe I’ll cuss you out.
Well,
I’ll least look mean at yah for a minute.
Yeah I’m still in school.
World knowledge does that.
It makes you right with God,
not some moral timekeeper,
the whole damn show.
Okay I’m signin’ off.
Pleasure doin’ business with yah.
I’ll see yah on the rebound,
when another poem is born
from the matrix of my be.
Got that Sin Wood?
I’m not countin’ sin.
I’m fulfillin’ my obligation as a poet,
and I’m sayin’ look at this
in the bowels of language
that’s there to say it right.
Musical or not,
I’m gifted speech.
Answer it with a question:
what is bigger than the Whole?
The unimaginable sink.
You get lost there,
frightenings on the tail ends of nothingness.
It really makes you think.
It’s too big for sky.
It’ll shake you up.
It’ll make you cry
it’s so alone,
so unimaginably deep.
You want it like you want your very self,
coils of room
on which existence is but a fin
to glide it sleekly through nothingness.
Will it put out its eye of existence
and just be its lone self
nowhere be?
A frightening thought.
Okay world,
can I comfort you?
Everything has to be in nothingness.
In existence all is,
from the most horrible to the most profound bliss,
and our world is but a tier
in that world stack,
and we are That you see,
that unimaginable thing
on lone oceans.
Have I reached you yet?
Good, let’s go.
We have to reach forever in a day.
I’m on bended knees,
and I’m not embarrassed about it.
You there,
little animal,
prideful nation,
take down that war.
It’s time for exultation in humanity.
Do you feel yours?
It’s always hands on,
good poetry,
right where your heart is,
right where you feel.
That’s the name of the game.
That’s where we find each other.
I love you did you know that?
And it hurts, you know?
It really does.
Die in some way
take care of those
who absolutely have to have us.
Those are our children.
I’ve got one now.
He’s 12-years-old.
His name is Nithish,
and I will move Heaven and Earth,
overcome the world,
to put that little fella
clean out of suffering
and back where I sacrifice myself to take care of him,
the intent of this poem.
I’m worthy to be there.
I’m his daddy.
You see us upon the roads of time
I love that little boy.
You don’t know the arrangement.
Alright Aristotle,
put the boy to sleep now.
Alexander’s got a big day tomorrow.
Put the poem to bed now.
Alright Aristotle it’s dawn.
Tomorrow in the Hall
That’s why what I can get on the television is behind your imagination,/
you’re too fat.
What’s that?
It’s a soft glow.
You’re wrapped around the axle of society
eating everything you can get your hands on,
entertainment spook outs,
song after song after song,
the news minute,
and bubbles and bubbles of internet stuff,
and books that make you mean.
You can’t get away from society
in your newspaper.
What’s that supposed to mean?
You suck society’s dick
a porn hub.
I’ve just offended half the nation.
The other half’s asleep.
Why can’t I suck dick on television?
I’m using figures of speech
to show our involvement with society.
I just got censored out of society,
but can I employ you in your mule,
weave together a story
using pockets of molten lava?
I’m tryin’ to get yah riled up.
I want to show you you’re pasted by society.
Would Sri Aurobindo say that?
I think he would allow inspiration to come
and not worry about sensibilities.
He would not future poetry
to make it stand a language model
that forgets our garbage stuff.
He would future poetry.
I want you offended.
I want to show you what you’re made of.
That’s not squeaky clean.
It’s all over the place.
If I took you into the Silence,
you would want to come back.
You do not know the spiritual consciousness.
You think it’s a morality speaker,
a set of rules you follow to get there.
A whole other world
arrives when spirituality arrives.
I don’t think you saw that yet.
You’re a radical revolutionary
if you’ve taken off ego a moment.
I have never been there permanently,
so I can’t say there.
Did you think Sri Aurobindo was like your local priest?
I want you to examine yourself
in the light of society.
It’s mean it sucks,
and it will throw you to the wolves
if you just can’t make it fit right,
your will with what society says no.
Say you molest children—
I’m going to marry a millionaire.
Oh my God you’ve processed God,
and you no longer molest children.
You can love a child now like it’s God lookin’ at yah,
and you love that child.
The formula’s in the Bhagavad Gita;
you just don’t hear it,
or you think it can’t be done.
Fuck a child,
and society will never let you in again.
I’m boilin’ your paper right now.
I wanna show you how small you are
when it comes to the big stuff.
You just morally react.
You don’t know how to do it,
heal a person from society’s ways.
It’s society that fucks children;
I guarantee it.
What’s the softball today?
We learn to love each other,
even those you hate.
If I can’t accomplish love,
I can at least accomplish understanding.
That mother beats my child,
and she’s raped him from me.
I could take a stick and beat her myself,
but that would just make her meaner.
I understand her jealousy
and her lack of control.
I just sit with it.
I’m rescuin’ my boy.
You hear it done
special in our media.
I’m gonna see him safe,
and I’m gonna bring him back to papa.
That’s my name on his lips.
He calls me daddy.
We have a room for him
in a whole new place.
This is spiritual journey,
in the air of spiritual journey,
where that boy’s no longer in Pondicherry,
so that boy’s ocean will work.
Grab you guys
in a manner of minutes,
and anyway,
I’m makin’ sure the roads are prepared for him.
I was gonna give this poem to who would’ve thought it,
but for now let it sit on this Facebook page.
Those of us who would change society
have to live under its auspices.
Society would rather kill than change.
It’s acquired a life of its own
apart from the individual.
It’s got great steed on it,
but we’ve reached the end of its present rope with us.
The world will be destroyed before society changes;
I mean it’s bragged about that,
if you can hear the writing on the wall.
How do I know all this?
I’ve been from one end of society to the other,
from the mountain to the monster,
and I’ve grown bigger than society
makin’ that monster
climb to the mountaintop
and seein’ God from there.
The monster changes his panties
and grabs society by the horns
so that society can see itself
for the monster that it is.
I’m no more monster.
Can you ride with me?
I have some beef to show you.
Holy cow,
let somebody eat beef,
if they’re just tired of the same old fare,
what doesn’t take you rocket launch,
what keeps you in the bounds of society,
what goes no deeper than a three dimensional world
bound to love its aunties
and the open vigilante.
Am I chargin’ wool?
Hey man, are you mediocracy?
I sucked the wrong dick.
You are basically a big person.
A big person,
you are God unawares;
you are the look of the Lord
when He forgets Himself.
Let’s all dance to this tune:
hey God, wake up.
See yah on Sunday,
on Saturday,
in your religious house of worship.
It just kills the kids doesn’t it?
They know there’s more to God than that.
They know there’s Everlasting,
but you’ll just slap them around
if you find out
this thing has to do with naked and
not with their school books.
I’ve been the danger a kid faces at midnight,
and my God watch it grow,
their Shazam.
They know there’s more than little TV,
and I’m not talkin’ about the sex stuff.
They know they can get beyond this movie,
that God is bigger than Her lists,
and don’t just stand there;
do somethin’.
It’s put up here hangover
on that third eye.
You’re just gonna have to get your shit together.
I’m compound joy.
There is actually a petting session over here.
Nithish called.
Everything’s fine.
I will see my little boy soon.
We’re all at a movie.
It’s packed.
Saw the hall were you there?
Every divine minute
the time it took to free me.
No,
you were there willingly and cooperatively,
and you woke up with a bang;
it hurt too much,
just like the Buddha said.
We just don’t put illusion on everything,
because God’s there
the hunt.
Wanna see?
See past your nose
blockade.
Make you feel the situation,
make you feel the heartbeat,
make you get out of yourself,
river find out
the apocalypse,
if you don’t hum the right tune.
That’s in our field today.
See that little boy?
He’s weathered the storm.
I’m not just gonna leave ‘im there.
I’m gonna bring ‘im home.
I’m gonna open up
where God dwells.
Wanna see me do it?
I know how.
Alright people, listen up.
The Earth song,
do you just cram society?
These are open bars.
Come on Grace,
let’s go pee pee.
We can’t send her out alone.
That little Beagle’s still a puppy.
I gave ‘er
more than the rat race.
Come on let’s go
to your human, darling,
and I took myself to divinity.
You comin’?
Society rose,
what’s the historia?
It’s wide open,
every means to God to get there,
even through the snake.
You just stop biting people,
even through the murderer and rapist.
Now that I can put this in literal terms,
so can your doctor.
I be doc.
Listen up,
let’s start from the beginning.
Dicks out.
No, you don’t go out.
The boy’s offended by the balls.
That boy’s offended by the power
of some certain dirty thing
even mentioned in a poem.
Take it off the neck.
No, I don’t wanna get yah to do it.
Can’t heal it ‘less you hear it,
and that’s in the meat grinder,
a poem so everybody can get off,
a poem so everybody heals
from this disaster
we propagate as society.
That boy got offended,
that readership.
I won’t say fuck you God no.
I’ll see yah when you’re open again,
after death,
or this poem will.
It’s got strings on it
that pull you along
where this poet meets the world.
There’s a response.
There’s a regular response.
Can you feel it?
It’s on the way home.
You’re bigger than mountains,
and you don’t have to be bothered by anyone
or what they say.
This is a test of your truth speaker.
Can you get past this test?
All we are saying is give peace a chance.
[above line heard sung by Plastic Ono Band]
Truth can be known that doesn’t betray yah.
Get back in there
tenderfoot.
I think my muse is talking to me.
Goddamn,
there’s just no end to the beginning.
This poem was written for the Facebook page Teachings of Mother and Sri Aurobindo – Discussion forum, but I’ve tried to post it twice, and each time it’s been deleted automatically upon posting, and so I submitted it to a member of that group called Renaissance, an arm of the Sri Aurobindo Society that is doing a feature on the purpose of art. In their series, there’s an essay by Nolini Kanta Gupta, arguably Sri Aurobino’s main disciple. Ignore the introduction by the Renaissance team and just skip to the essay: “The Obscene and the Ugly – Form and Essence“. It will add flavor and standing to my poem in the light of the the Integral Yoga.
Harm's End 