I couldn’t come from the city according to our needs. A oneness organization, that’s the start of it, the city the Earth needs. The walls are coming down, it’s where we begin. This is the largest city in Heaven, and it’s expensive to live in.
How many people protect themselves from the Infinite? How many people have bibles they won’t cross thresholds with? They can’t get out of the Book or this Name says. They can’t plant infinity there, and they argue and bicker among themselves about it, the rulebook says.
Am I just a hedonistic paradise? I sacrifice even my thoughts to the divine and live a simple life to prove it. I don’t cut down banyan trees. I sit together with everybody there, and I know hard work, and I know rest and play.
I love God, and that is my first priority, not the God of this man says, the God of the banyan tree. I have seen God’s eyes staring back at me in everyone’s. I can pet a dog and feel that, rub a cat.
I am about the mountain in springtime. I know how to address the world: oh my God I love you. I have seen fire and rain, and I changed my life because of it. I no longer hurt people or cause them pain. I draw the lines everywhere to prevent that. I know the meaning of sacrifice. It’s how my thoughts meet the world. It’s how my hands meet the day.
I am an Aurovillian comes theoretically, and I shout this to the Earth. I will get bigger than my kind. I will transform consciousness inside into our greater type. I will give birth to divinity on a collective field, and our hands will salt the Earth with its great and needed change, and I am here my friend opening doors for you that you may walk through them. Auroville will you hear me? Auroville can you feel that looking?
This poem was emailed to many Auroville email addresses, most all the principle leadership bodies, and it was the object of an art action on Sept 3rd and 4th, where I and Mithun taped and tacked it up on bulletin boards and walls around Auroville and on banyan trees in the township, or it was just handed to individuals. This is the performance art a recent poem, “The Diamond”, mentioned, before, I might add, there was inkling on my part to do any.
This poem and the preceding one made the secretary of Auroville, Jayanti Ravi, mad, and she got me kicked out of India over it, personally.
image by the author, Earth in space public domain via Wikipedia
The world is at the skid point. We are so caught in this movie we can’t even see beyond. Tell me you don’t care. Tell me you’re hangin’ out clothes to dry, and your little one’s screamin’, and that’s just big stuff on TV. Got caught in the movies. I know you ache at night, just about to spill it all, everything you know about the world but don’t. You don’t know what to make of it it holds you so close.
Can we climb out of this? We can sure get lost in it. Will you play with me? I’m a poet from Skid Row. No I’m not a drinker. I’m a free world thinker, and I want the world to last longer than its appointment in the annuals of our sun. I’m with you on that. I want to outlast the sun where I know I can be happy.
Have you ever seen the world up close? It’ll finger your dickens. No, no I’m not talkin’ about the rovin’ mania all around yah— the whole teeming world as an entity in front of your face. Got boxes and spring cards, but it’s the real McCoy.
I don’t know if you know what I’m talkin’ about yet. I scrap it off my shoe no. This is a divine appointment in time, the world as an organization that brings God on earth, and we can’t get over the word divine. I’ve lifted up your skirt and showed you religious offerings. I mean an intelligence bigger than the skies that can fit in our green Earth and bring it to the next level. You think of the universe as a flat individual organization, but the many levels of the universe go beyond the universe, and I tell yah Earth is scheduled for that.
I’m far from the clothesline now, but that screamin’ kid, I’ve gotten into his ache. We want a better world, expressive of need, and the world as an organization can do that, be unto our need. It’s flat and big everywhere we look today, but have you met the world yet? That’s what I’m tryin’ to say so that it matters, so that we can get bigger than ourselves, knowin’ the world’s done with livin’ for your kin.
Bigger than any national flag, the world is our step-brother that needs to know its name spoken on your lips. Oh no Mohammad you don’t own the world, nor Jesus Christ, and certainly not Hindu or Buddha, and the Jewish people will not rule the Earth. We’re all gonna get goin’ to see the world in each of us, to understand its nature bigger than the machine.
Are you with me on this? I think you’ll fight me some, until we realize Earth’s got an appointment in blue skies, and we will all revel in it, giddy with the realization of harm’s end. Do you know that cost? Can you turn around and see the world today? Flabbergasted can you see it?
A step-mother, seven kids, and digital shock, can you grab that? Help me chase it to we meet the world there. I’m not horseplay. I’m the world looks in on you, not the teeming multitudes, the world as a being in front of you in time, and I’m travelin’ a poet to forgotten shores, what a seer give society, its determining wings, how it lays out itself and what it be's. It’s the arms of society to tell you the truth. You must not let that little you. It’s the One looking in on itself. You’re the One. I am really here for you.
Now sing along. You can’t fool me anymore by your nonchalance. I know the score. You can’t shoot me anymore either. I know what I’m about, and even dead I’ll know it, and so will my poetry.
Open up in there. There can be no losers. Bite into something hard. Stare into something new. I gave you the congressional service. No shame in that. A wardrobe you know you can catalogue here take this self: we’re goin’ to the end of society as the machine.
Sheltered animals move and breathe. They just don’t get away. What was defeated in Mexico? Waiting by the bomb. You’re encountering that work’s envitalment, and you can’t get out of it. Best documentary That Worked. What are you doin’? Getting our own hands dirty in blowing up the machine, a long action that we can do without war or blowin’ people up or shooting them down. Here I am doin’ it don’t you see?
Never mind the behavior they stopped us from realizing it. What was that membership? Blowin’ up the world in I don’t care, oh no. I’ll give you as much as possible to farm time freedom from the machine.
Love, it actually gave us tomorrow, is the active ingredient. I find that news with anything. It’s real and normal if you realize you have met the world out during the day in every box you’ve met today, in every pair of eyes staring out at you, all of it, the whole damn show.
Take the questionnaire. I have problems existing the way you want Council Bluffs. An opera, just what the world needs right now, our post-traumatic show, and I can’t do anything to stop you. You’re the stupid muse.
Who’s to listen to? I’m talkin’ storybook Earth. Are you wrapped around the axle with it? My God it’s got me by the balls. I’m in Nithish’s pan. Other than that I’m free. You would not stage this.
I’m too honest for broad noon, and I’ve got some big thoughts Earth don’t wanna look at, I mean in your society room. Have you ever seen an Earth poet? You’re supposed to. That’s what we’re all made of. We’re speakin’ to all mankind. Earth today, we get mad at the word man, but it farms poetry, you know?
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, I’m in a limousine, but let me get more Tennyson on yah and Marilyn Monroe. You think poetry’s got to have capital letters and sing about verses and stuff. Emily Dickinson would agree poetry comes from the inner voice. Slipped into you a mind swell the beautiful rose of poetry, even if it’s not a football field of the huddle of verses that high sound poetry to you. I give you an inner lunch.
Okay we’ve brightened our books today. I give you an inner sound, tryin’ to find your head. It’s all Madagascar. Have I opened a movie on the showroom’s floor? Train’s coimin’. It’s all about them dice watch your hedge podge in where you put your blinders on. Cute animals, eh? And everybody’s longing to be free.
Be not normal men and women, but reach above our kind and show how it’s done, ain’t that the anthem? Movie after movie of the greatest stories on Earth get by our living room with this. Would you believe they keep you in line, even in your underwear? Ask the surveillance movie Drop from start to ticket or Seven Veils, and I’m sorry I’m giving them credit, but I can’t watch every movie in time that littles us, I mean like right now as we’re havin’ lunch.
So many lies are told to manipulate your mind and bring all the bad country to bad men so demon they shine with the impossibilities of human nature taken to that degree. They’re demon bad. My mother sucked me when I was three, and my step-mother terrorized my mind, and I had to hide from her in the woods until my father got home. Teacher after teacher put me in the corner, the kind that hate little boys all over the globe for bein’ who they are, and they had a score to settle with men. Give a world this schoolin’, and let’s see how she acts. You can’t trust nobody.
Now I’ve got a little boy in the lurch taken from me and reamed, who grew up with me since he was five, but I was there from birth his daddy. It makes you all nervous inside that I’m speaking about him in this poem. Exactly. Can I show you the hurtin’ in the machine? You think it’s child abuse or a host of other ills, men bad to women, or a sudden and frank genocide, or tumultuous war. It’s our wrong seeing that causes harm, how we bake bread willfully and ignorantly with the guardians of the universe resistant to change.
I love my little boy, and that’s right and proper, but I’m a White man and he’s a Tamil boy in a red flag zone. Surely his parents must be right in beating him, slapping him across the face, not letting him go out of their sight or surveillance system or visit friends so he will not contact me. Do you know what this does to a child? He doesn’t write poetry. Now buy him anything he wants and wine and dine him. Surely he’ll stay on our side.
What’s the beef you reckon? I made better miles with him, and he preferred me to them. It’s all in the menagerie. Parents got rights over their children’s lives. Just ask Child Welfare. The mother gave them a bribe and the police and paid my lawyer more than I was paying him. This is India and this stinks, but who gives a damn?
Is anybody listenin’ to this poem? I mean he’s got to go with us, how you make a child today serious to produce that child the staple of the machine. Now let’s give ‘im bright airs and promise him the moon when he’s older if he complies now. Study hard kid. Your worth is in those grades, and your future depends on them, and we will ignore your dyslexia by ignoring it, you lazy little bastard. We’re smart can’t you see?
Now this has been shut off, squeezed out of him in a parental vice par none. You like that? That’s okay with you? Who the hell are you anyway, ordinary people? I heard you. The Indian consulate the Indian dear, kick ‘em to give this boy what he needs. For fruit to work tell ‘em read this boy.
This is the station of the Earth. How are you? A thousand at gunpoint. The quality has left the brigade. It’s in the stars now. Not a soul sees it, except you and I. I have no reason to write. This has no fellowship. I’m not cryin’ about it. I can see what’s goin’ on. I can see the brigade.
I lift my voice up, even though it’s meaningless down here. I have a field to write, and that is my star-gas, and that is my thang to do. Goodbye cruel world, you won’t hear me say that. I’m mountain sing. I’m all over the place. I’m at your door right now.
Shoot me will yah. You hate pedophiles, even if they don’t molest children. I’m not your moppin’ bucket. I’m taller than that. I have Heaven’s spears. Where you goin’? I thought you were ready for art, and I’m not a pain in the ass. I’m always chapter of my other dinin’. I can’t call you up here or me down there. No, I’m not an hourglass in the sun, but I see wide and free. I don’t have band-aids on where I reach for the sky.
I’m Marcus Aurelius on steroids. I can show you more of the world than you knew existed, the letter of more than the Earth can show. I’m daring. I have lifted the timetable at the art college, and I expose you to poems now that come straight from the rising sun. You are so derelict I am dead before I am read. Is that how it’s gonna be?
I write anyway. I write the commodity of the sky into your habit, and I know what I’m doin’. You guys aren’t listenin’. We’ll be here for few minutes. How to make a report and give it to society? You’ve seen the Earth from afar. You’ve had God’s eyes looking at it, and you were behind them, and you saw the Earth from there. Just one direct flash, some seconds and it was it. Maybe a half minute? This came to pass.
I had no idea this even existed. I met Myself on high. That was 30 years ago. It redirected my life. It was the only thing I saw for some time. I was turned on. I went crazy with the Earth. I lived in isolation in a college setup, my little job and me and a handful of family, not all of them related. You get the picture?
This just happened. It wasn’t the first thing. Would you believe me if I told you I found my soul first, and, before that, the station of the Gods? Not all in the same week. It was why I was stationed there. I had seen the Gods in cutout portions of Them. So I settled in to get more at it. I knews the world was strangely arranged. I had questions, and I asked them thoroughly. An open consciousness had visited me to do so, what the initial opening did, seeing how God thinks in Overmind.
Are we gettin’ somewhere? Why me? I had the consciousness for it. Infant orgasm had opened me to the Void a childhood demon had tricked me into. Weird I know, but that’s how I came in life. I don’t think you have that structure. Are you listening to me?
We gather too let’s take a pedophile and change him into someone that helps the Earth. Can you believe that? Listen to my voice. We start with the bottom-rung you know. How else do you see the whole bunch? Oh man I’m talking Earth. What a head trip.
Can you just stop a moment? We are not your regular keeper. I was born this way, put in the sauce, and I have been weird all my life. My story would make you question reality: Green Beret, Classical Greek scholar, tactical nuclear mission, I mean like the bomb, world crawling vagabond, like for seven years, then in India behind an iron curtain that only let the net out, and I’ve been here 20 years. You tell me I’m strange. Do I have the prerequisites to give you the lowdown?
I put up poems in Jerusalem on the Fourteen Stations of the Cross, after a fall, inside the Great Pyramid and on the top of Mount Sinai. I was a gold digger on fire. I put that in. No one paid attention then, and no one pays attention now. I’ve done the groundwork to be a world speaker.
You’re confused. Is this true? My history’s online. You will find out I’ve been suppressed some. The major articles of the press know I’m here. They never say anything. I’m not just a loon to them. I’ve seen one site change policy over a single poem. Now the agencies, who are they? I do imagine I get watched. I don’t even worry about it. I see the Earth. Why wouldn’t it look back at me?
You guys are just stupid and won’t let me out among you. I’m banking on you to try. This is some weird shit. Let’s go back to a funny video or a world I can believe in. I’ve never heard of such. Now whaddawe do? You should read my other stuff. I’m dancin’ in music here. The view from here’s incredible. I’m not an unhappy man. I get so excited just being on a moment on earth. It’ll wipe the tears outta your eyes it’s so miracle arranged, the whole damn world. I just rub my eyes and see. Are you seein’ this? The Earth’s just moved.
How do I show this to you? It’s dancin’ right before my eyes, and it’s big. I see that, this smallness I am, wrapped around the machine, trodding on earth. I’m just a part of it all, not it’s maker or mover and shaker. I’m like you, but I see, where a seer meets the Earth, and I’m changin’ it a little more directly than you are, just by my see.
If I get out among you, I’ll replace the room, give you something to think about, so many people in the machine. We will see the future curve in my thoughts of it and be the world I predicted. We’ll talk about it later. Now I just got some things to do to keep goin’. Take a look. Give me a read and see what I’m talkin’ about. One move forward in each and every poem, you will see that, and I will see you again next poem.
Harm's End 