The Pressure of Unspoken Tears

The photo of Sri Aurobindo over my writing desk

ஆங்கிலப் பதிப்பிற்குப் பிறகுதான் தமிழ் மொழிபெயர்ப்பு.

Can you show me what he’s hiding?
Can you show me what he’s seen?
Twelve feet in him (horrible vision of Nithish drowning in an indoor swimming pool, only his face visible, on it terror and pain)
the psychological manipulation of his tears.
Where he bothered you:
he’s gonna have to clean up the horse
and the skin his mother gave him
and all his father’s done.
This has been gross, ugly, and mean.
It’s nonstop it hasn’t let up.
This is hurt him
deep in being’s ways.
His warm heart is gone.

He’s not himself.
He’s not even trying.
He would like to just go to bed.
He acts normal and sweet,
and then he flies off the handle at the slightest provocation.
He can’t deal with himself.
He’s scared to be alone.
He’s spends his time alone
in the middle of everybody.
He would like to kill himself sometimes.
He hates himself for giving in
to his parents.
He doesn’t know how to deal with the string between his legs.
It’s all confusing for him.

He doesn’t know where is up.
He would like to let go.
He doesn’t know how to talk
if anyone asks him about daddy.
He loves daddy,
but he can’t remember him properly.
He’s a very unhappy little boy
behind that smile of his,
and here’s where we find his pain:
he has to hide it,
or his parents get mad at him,
and here there is no relief.

Why is he crying his unwashed tears?
You would not hear a tear.
In the very beginning
this was shut up inside him
when his mother shut off those tears
to keep him from reminding her she’d done wrong
in taking him from daddy,
so abruptly,
so cruelly,
and so never see him again.
This broke the boy’s mind,
made him languish on himself,
took his heart and tore it in two
where no hope that it ever mend,
and this is what he carries around
to this day.

Now you laugh at him for being weak,
being such a titty-baby,
or you frown on him.
He’s never mentioned his daddy’s name
or that he wants to see him,
but he cannot speak I tell you,
and I’ve shown you all these gears inside,
but the day is coming
this boy will explode,
and he will tell everything
his parents have done to him
to make daddy a phantom in his mind
and a dead man in his heart.
To take this love this sweet boy had
and make him kill it in himself,
you have not seen this day
the boy lets all this out.
What do you think his silence is saying?
“I’m going to explode I’m going to explode.”
And there will be heart keeps
showing the world what he’s seen.
No one will doubt what his parents have done to him,
and no one will doubt what he needs.
He needs daddy.

That’s good for children.
They need to hear it,
and it’s eleven o’clock.
And who’s name do we use?
A fighting chance.
Where is the boy?
Emergency
who can’t be seen,
but you know he’s there.
Look in your photographs.
This will arrange things.
This is what he needs to see.
It’s good for him sweetheart.
Don’t worry.
This is not next year.
He’s coming upon this now,
and it’s a long ways away
from his certain grasp of himself.

He comes to her with such a smile,
and he knows I’m in pain.
It was your mother’s pride.
Will he hurt his daddy?
No my sweet boy
you’re okay with me,
and the festival tomorrow
we did run.
Did you know that?
Give it to him fiercely and nicely,
this boy’s destiny,
why so much pain.
He’s the poet of a sunrise,
and he will help children everywhere
from systems of abuse.

See you tomorrow
twisting,
turning,
and he knows there’s a difference
between what his mother tells him
and what I do.
This isn’t fair him.
You need to see his face.
There are bruises on it from a gifted childhood
right at the point
they put a said on the planet.
Are you game for watching heroes?
Watch this boy.
Now will you help?
I’d like to see him.
There.
சொல்லப்படாத கண்ணீரின் அழுத்தம்
அவர் மறைத்து வைத்திருப்பதைக் காட்ட முடியுமா?
அவர் பார்த்ததை எனக்குக் காட்ட முடியுமா?
அவருக்குள் பன்னிரெண்டு அடிகள்
அவரது கண்ணீரின் உளவியல் கையாளுதல். (உள்துறை நீச்சல் குளத்தில் மூழ்கி நித்திஷின் பயங்கரமான பார்வை, அவன் முகம் மட்டும் தெரியும், அதில் பயங்கரமும் வலியும்)
அவர் உங்களை எங்கே தொந்தரவு செய்தார்:
அவர் குதிரையை சுத்தம் செய்ய வேண்டும்
மற்றும் அவரது தாய் அவருக்கு கொடுத்த தோல்
மற்றும் அவரது தந்தை செய்த அனைத்தும்.
இது மொத்தமாகவும், அசிங்கமாகவும், மோசமானதாகவும் இருந்தது.
இது இடைவிடாது அது விடவில்லை.
இது அவரை காயப்படுத்துகிறது
இருப்பின் வழிகளில் ஆழமாக.
அவரது சூடான இதயம் போய்விட்டது.

அவர் தானே இல்லை.
அவர் முயற்சி செய்வதும் இல்லை.
அவர் படுக்கைக்குச் செல்ல விரும்புகிற.
அவர் இயல்பாகவும் இனிமையாகவும் செயல்படுகிறார்,
பின்னர் அவர் கைப்பிடியில் இருந்து பறக்கிறது சிறிய ஆத்திரமூட்டலில்.
அவர் தன்னை சமாளிக்க முடியாது.
அவர் தனியாக இருக்க பயப்படுகிறார்.
அவர் தனது நேரத்தை தனியாக செலவிடுகிறார்
அனைவருக்கும் நடுவில்.
சில சமயங்களில் தன்னைக் கொல்ல விரும்புவார்.
விட்டுக்கொடுப்பதற்காக அவர் தன்னை வெறுக்கிறார்
அவரது பெற்றோருக்கு.
அவர் கால்களுக்கு இடையில் இருக்கும் சரத்தை எப்படி சமாளிப்பது என்று தெரியவில்லை.
அவனுக்கு எல்லாமே குழப்பமாக இருக்கிறது.

அவனுக்கு தெரியாது எந்த திசையில் எந்த திசையில் மேலே செல்ல வேண்டும்.
அவர் விட்டுவிட விரும்புகிறார்.
அவருக்குப் பேசத் தெரியாது
அப்பாவைப் பற்றி யாராவது அவரிடம் க daddy.
அவர் daddy நேசிக்கிறார்,
ஆனால் முடியாது ஆனால் அவரை சரியாக நினைவில் கொள்ள முடியவில்லை.
அவர் இப்போது மிகவும் மகிழ்ச்சியற்ற சிறு பையன்.
அவன் புன்னகையின் பின்னால்
அவருடைய வலியை இங்கே காணலாம்:
அவர் அதை மறைக்க வேண்டும்
அல்லது அவனுடைய பெற்றோர் அவன் மீது கோபம் கொள்கிறார்கள்,
மற்றும் இங்கே நிவாரணம் இல்லை.

கழுவாத கண்ணீரை ஏன் அழுகிறார்?
நீங்கள் கண்ணீர் கேட்க மாட்டீர்கள்.
ஆரம்பத்திலேயே
இது அவருக்குள் மூடியிருந்தது
அவன் அம்மா அந்த கண்ணீரை அணைத்த போது
அவள் தவறு செய்ததை அவளுக்கு நினைவூட்டுவதைத் தடுக்க
daddy விடமிருந்து அவரை அழைத்துச் செல்வதில்,
மிகவும் திடீரென்று,
மிகவும் கொடூரமாக,
அதனால் அவன் daddy வை இனி பார்க்கவே மாட்டான்.
அது சிறுவனின் மனதை உடைத்தது மனம்.
இது அவனை தன்னுள் புதைத்துக்கொள்ள வைத்தது.
இது அவரது இதயத்தை எடுத்து இரண்டாகப் பிரித்தது,
மற்றும் அது எப்பொழுதும் சரியாகும் என்ற நம்பிக்கை இல்லை.
அவர் இதை எல்லா இடங்களிலும் கொண்டு செல்கிறார்
இந்த நாள் வரைக்கும்.

இப்போது நீங்கள் மிகவும் சிறிய பையனைப் போல நடந்த கொள்வதற்காக அவரைப் பார்த்து சிரிக்கிறீர்கள்
அல்லது நீங்கள் அவரை முகம் சுளிக்கிறீர்கள்.
அவர் daddy வின் பெயரைக் குறிப்பிடவில்லை,
அல்லது அவர் அவரைப் பார்க்க விரும்புகிறார்.
ஆனால் அவரால் பேச முடியாது, நான் உங்களுக்கு சொல்கிறேன்.
இந்த கியர்களை எல்லாம் அவருக்குள் காட்டியிருக்கிறேன்.
ஆனால் நாள் வருகிறது
இந்த சிறுவன் வெடிக்கப் போகிறான் என்று.
அவர் எல்லாவற்றையும் சொல்வார்
அவரது பெற்றோர் செய்தார்கள்
அதனால் அவர் daddy வை ஒரு மாயத்தோற்றம் என்று நினைப்பார் அவரது மனதில்
மற்றும் அவரது இதயத்தில் ஒரு இறந்த மனிதன்.
இந்த இனிய சிறுவனை daddy மீதான காதலை கொல்ல வைக்க,
இந்த நாளை நீங்கள் பார்க்கவில்லை
சிறுவன் அதையெல்லாம் வெளியே விடுகிறான்.
அவருடைய மௌனம் என்ன சொல்கிறது என்று நினைக்கிறீர்கள்?
"நான் வெடிக்கப் போகிறேன், நான் வெடிக்கப் போகிறேன்."
மற்றும் அவர் தனது இதயத்தில் என்ன வைத்திருக்கிறார்
அவர் பார்த்ததை உலகுக்குக் காட்டுகிறது.
அவனுடைய பெற்றோர் அவனுக்கு என்ன செய்தார்கள் என்று யாரும் சந்தேகிக்க மாட்டார்கள்.
அவருக்கு என்ன தேவை என்பதை யாரும் சந்தேகிக்க மாட்டார்கள்.
அவருக்கு daddy தேவை.

அது குழந்தைகளுக்கு நல்லது.
அவர்கள் அதைக் கேட்க வேண்டும்.
இப்போது மணி பதினொன்று.
மேலும் யாருடைய பெயரைப் பயன்படுத்துகிறோம்?
ஒரு சண்டை வாய்ப்பு.
பையன் எங்கே?
நெருக்கடி
யாரை பார்க்க முடியாது,
ஆனால் அவர் அங்கு இருக்கிறார் என்பது உங்களுக்குத் தெரியும்.
உங்கள் புகைப்படங்களில் பாருங்கள்.
இது விஷயங்களை ஏற்பாடு செய்யும்.
அவர் பார்க்க வேண்டியது இதுதான்.
இது அவருக்கு நல்லது அன்பே.
கவலைப்படாதே.
இது அடுத்த வருடம் அல்ல.
அவர் இப்போது இதைப் பற்றி வருகிறார்,
மற்றும் அது வெகு தொலைவில் உள்ளது
இப்போது அவர் தன் மீது வைத்திருக்கும் பிடியில் இருந்து.

அவர் ஒரு புன்னகையுடன் அவளிடம் வருகிறார்,
மற்றும் நான் வலியில் இருக்கிறேன் என்பதை அவர் அநாங்கள் தலைமை தாங்கினோம் என்றுறிவார்.
அது உன் தாயின் பெருமை.
அவர் daddy வை காயப்படுத்துவாரா?
இல்லை என் இனிய பையன்
நான் உன்னுடன் நன்றாக இருக்கிறேன்.
மற்றும் நாளை திருவிழா
நாங்கள் தலைமை தாங்கினோம் என்று.
உனக்கு அதை பற்றி தெரியுமா?
அதை அவருக்கு கடுமையாகவும் அழகாகவும் கொடுங்கள்,
இந்த பையனின் விதி,
ஏன் இவ்வளவு வலி.
அவர் ஒரு சூரிய உதயத்தின் கவிஞர்,
மற்றும் அவர் எல்லா இடங்களிலும் குழந்தைகளுக்கு உதவுவார்
துஷ்பிரயோகம் செய்யப்படுவதிலிருந்து.

நாளை சந்திப்போம்,
என்று திருப்புவதும் முறுக்குவதும்.
ஒரு வித்தியாசம் இருப்பதை அவர் அறிவார்
அவனுடைய அம்மா அவனிடம் சொல்வதிலிருந்து
மற்றும் நான் என்ன செய்கிறேன்.
இது அவருக்கு நியாயமில்லை.
அவன் முகத்தைப் பார்க்க வேண்டும்.
ஒரு திறமையான குழந்தை பருவத்திலிருந்தே அதில் காயங்கள் உள்ளன
என்று புள்ளியில் உள்ளது
முழு கிரகமும் அதைப் பற்றி பேசியது.
ஹிரோஸ் பார்க்க வேண்டுமா?
இப்போது நீங்கள் உதவுவீர்களா?
தயவுசெய்து அவரைப் பார்க்க எனக்கு உதவுங்கள்.
அங்கு.

That You Compare

the photo of the Mother over my kitchen table

This poem has been published by Edge of Humanity Magazine: https://edgeofhumanity.com/2024/11/12/harms-end-blog-by-donny-lee-duke-that-you-compare/

ஆங்கிலப் பதிப்பிற்குப் பின் தமிழ் பதிப்பு.

No parent to you
in the chair means
that was not your cradle,
that was not your hold that baby sweetly,
that was not change his diaper,
that was not teach him to walk,
and that was not to show him the world for the first time,
and all the things in it that made him wonder and laugh
and cry when it hurt him.
You did not sooth that child
in the bottom years of his life,
those three years of Earth
when he rose into human being.
It is there we hold him
his parents say,and you have no right there
they tell me.

Is this all that’s wrong?
I have been his parent for life.
I came in
when that boy left his toddler years,
and I formed him
into the boy he is now,
formidable years,
the ones his two front teeth came out,
and the teeth there that I had him grow back
were not mean.
They were full of spiritual impulse,
and they formed his muse,
the poetry he writes from inner house,
and that is my job with him.
He is a poet to show the world
we have to change our way with children.

We have to make it right with them.
We have to give them ourselves
so they can be themselves.
We do not own them.
God does,
and is our job to help
them discover their soul’s purpose in life,
even if that is not
where we want them in our home.

This is the parent I am
to that boy,
and even if he never sees me again,
I have parented him there,
and that is in the bowels of the Earth,
and no amount of hatred and brainwashing
on his parents’ part
can remove that from his life.

Here on social media I have not called a name,
and I have not shown a face.
I have broken no rules of engagement,
and I want the world to see what you have done to this child,
just at that point in his life,
at the very second,
the body wills into adolescence,
and you have damaged him there,
ruined him,
and you will see this bear fruit.

I’m all over this with my arm,
and I know how to heal this boy.
Please step aside
and let it be done.
Put down your jealous egos
and let me save your child
from the hells and howevers
of being a sociopath.
I cannot state it more clearly.
Now you see it,
let me heal him.
நீங்கள் ஒப்பிடுகிறீர்கள் என்று
நீங்கள் அவரது பெற்றோர் அல்ல
நாற்காலியில் பொருள்
அது உன் தொட்டில் இல்லை
அது உன்னுடைய பிடி இல்லை, அந்த குழந்தையை இனிமையாக,
அது அவரது டயப்பரை மாற்றவில்லை,
அது அவனுக்கு நடக்க கற்றுக்கொடுக்கவில்லை.
அது அவருக்கு முதல் முறையாக உலகத்தைக் காட்டுவதற்காக அல்ல.
மேலும் அதில் உள்ள அனைத்து விஷயங்களும் அவரை வியக்கவும் சிரிக்கவும் வைத்தது
அது அவரை காயப்படுத்தும்போது அழவும்.
நீங்கள் அந்தக் குழந்தையை சமாதானப்படுத்தவில்லை
அவரது வாழ்க்கையின் கடைசி ஆண்டுகளில்,
பூமியின் அந்த மூன்று ஆண்டுகள்
அவர் மனிதனாக உயர்ந்த போது.
அங்குதான் அவரைப் பிடித்துக் கொள்கிறோம்
அங்குதான் அவரைப் பிடித்துக் கொள்கிறோம்
அவரது பெற்றோர் கூறுகிறார்கள்,
மேலும் உங்களுக்கு அங்கு உரிமை இல்லை
அவர்கள் என்னிடம் சொல்கிறார்கள்.

இது மட்டுமா இதில் தவறு?
நான் வாழ்நாள் முழுவதும் அவருக்கு பெற்றோராக இருக்கிறேன்.
நான் உள்ளே வந்தேன்
அந்தச் சிறுவன் தன் குழந்தைப் பருவத்தை விட்டுச் சென்றபோது,
நான் அவனை உருவாக்கினேன்
அவன் இப்போது இருக்கும் சிறுவனாக,
வலிமையான ஆண்டுகள்,
அவருடைய இரண்டு முன் பற்கள் வெளியே வந்தவை,
நான் அவரிடம் இருந்த பற்கள் மீண்டும் வளரும்
அர்த்தமற்றவை அல்ல.
அவர்கள் ஆன்மீக தூண்டுதலால் நிறைந்திருந்தனர்,
அவர்கள் அவரது அருங்காட்சியகத்தை உருவாக்கினர்,
அவர் உள் வீட்டில் இருந்து எழுதும் கவிதை,
அது அவருடன் என் வேலை.
உலகைக் காட்டக் கவிஞன்
குழந்தைகளுடன் நம் வழியை மாற்ற வேண்டும்.

அவர்களுடன் நாம் அதை சரி செய்ய வேண்டும்.
அவர்களுக்கு நாமே கொடுக்க வேண்டும்
அதனால் அவர்கள் தாங்களாகவே இருக்க முடியும்.
அவை நமக்குச் சொந்தமில்லை.
கடவுள் செய்கிறார்,
மற்றும் உதவுவது எங்கள் வேலை
அவர்கள் வாழ்க்கையில் தங்கள் ஆன்மாவின் நோக்கத்தைக் கண்டுபிடிப்பார்கள்,
அது இல்லாவிட்டாலும்
எங்கள் வீட்டில் அவர்கள் எங்கே வேண்டும்.
நான் இத்தகைய பெற்றோர்
அந்த பையனுக்கு,
அவர் என்னை மீண்டும் பார்க்காவிட்டாலும்,
நான் அவரை நன்றாக பார்த்துக்கொண்டேன்,
அது பூமியின் குடலில் உள்ளது,
மற்றும் வெறுப்பு மற்றும் மூளைச்சலவை எந்த அளவு
அவரது பெற்றோரின் தரப்பில்
அதை அவனது வாழ்க்கையிலிருந்து நீக்க முடியும்.
இங்கே சமூக ஊடகங்களில் நான் பெயர் சொல்லவில்லை,
மேலும் நான் முகம் காட்டவில்லை.
ஏற்பாடுகளுக்கான‌ விதிகளை நான் மீறவில்லை,
இந்த குழந்தைக்கு நீங்கள் என்ன செய்தீர்கள் என்பதை உலகம் பார்க்க வேண்டும் என்று நான் விரும்புகிறேன்,
அவன் வாழ்வின் அந்த நேரத்தில்
இரண்டாவது நேரத்தில்,
உடல் இளமைப் பருவத்தில் விரும்புகிறது,
நீங்கள் அவரை அங்கே சேதப்படுத்தினீர்கள்,
அவனை அழித்து,
இதன் விளைவை நீங்கள் காண்பீர்கள்.

நான் என் கையால் இதையெல்லாம் முடித்துவிட்டேன்,
இந்த பையனை எப்படி குணப்படுத்துவது என்று எனக்கு தெரியும்.
தயவு செய்து ஒதுங்கவும்
அது நடக்கப்பெறட்டும்.
உங்கள் பொறாமை ஈகோக்களை கீழே போடுங்கள்
உங்கள் குழந்தையை நான் காப்பாற்றட்டும்
நரகத்தில் இருந்தும் மற்றும்‌ சமூக விரோதி களிடமிருந்தும்.
இதைவிட தெளிவாக என்னால் கூற முடியாது.
இப்போது நீங்கள் பாருங்கள்,
நான் அவனை குணமாக்க அனுமதியுங்கள்.

Edge of the Game

Nithish’s new video for his YouTube channel

In this poem, written from inner spiritual vision, meaning the lines were spoken to him on the inside, one by one, and I recorded them for him on my voice recorder where I record my own muse, Nithish is speaking to his future self, giving himself help about a tragedy that came to pass on March 12th, when he was taken from me. We’re not allowed visits, phone calls, and no one can give him my messages. They took him because they got mad at me. He’s had a negative personality change, and his spiritual vision has been replaced by nightmares.

Like dream, spiritual vision has vision of the future, and this poem will bear that out if you take the time to listen to it. As art and poetry, it will take more than one viewing to understand in its complexity, where, in each frame, there are layers of meaning, what is happening in the video itself, entertaining enough, and the poem superimposed on that, with occasional visions the boy had while the lines were spoken to him being presented in a ticker tape fashion at the bottom of the screen.

It’s actually a miracle and is a real example of soul healing, in this case his soul speaking to him now from the past. The video is now being viewed by the boy and those around him (or will be shortly), including his parents, and the divine muse of poetry, having knowledge of the future, knew when the video would be made and posted, at just the right time in the ‘death’ of the boy to bring him back to life, soul, and God.

“The Samadhi of the Gods is in my heart” means his spirituality is forbidden. His parents scorn his poetry, and he can’t follow the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. “I don’t like biryani I like burger.” He likes things American, which his parents don’t like. “I ask where is my dog,” his Beagle puppy, Grace, who he lost too. He lost all his dogs.

“Look back and you’ll get out” means that if he remembers what it was like living with me, looks back on those times, he’ll get out of school, school here meaning the school he is at home, school being a symbol for a child’s life lessons, whether they take place at home or at the institution of school. The whole poem is so he will remember what he’s forgotten under his parents’ intense psychological manipulation, where he lost himself. In this poem, which he wrote from his past to his future self, he’s trying to get his ‘dead’ self to see he needs to see who he really is.

“Bamboo sticks they use it to beat children in the school / and they use it to make sugar in the factory.” School is a symbol where he learns his lessons in life, both at home and school as an institution, as I’ve explained above. “Well, next time bad spirits of school Nazis,” meaning the extreme control his parents have used in this present situation, not the first abusive situation he’s been in with them, to get him to stop wanting me.

”Why is ice on fire on earth?” Our relationship has been put on ice but is aflame. “Gutter door is open. / Play along for awhile.” He did what his parents wanted and told people what they told him to say, “I’m okay with it,” but they can’t get him to tell me that. “Hold onto them with your breath, / knowers or brewers. / Mr. NoMore is out of town. He’s still holding onto to me, but his parents are telling him I’m a beggar, and I only want him to take care of me in my old age, and of course I’m Mr. NoMore.

The last lines mean that I recorded it all in my own muse and predicts that his story of childhood trauma will make a big difference in the world. The rap at the end, also muse and prevision, is a short synopsis of the bad situation he fell into when his parents took him from me. At that time he was listening to BoyWithUke.

Social consciousness we’re exploring here. This little boy’s showing it to you in the society he has with me. You don’t believe that we we share consciousness with each other. Here’s a poem that will show not only that, but that you can talk to your future self about that society you live in. An 11-yr-old boy wrote this, with an incredibly superior opening of the inner consciousness, magnetic, the very thing that you need to see so we can survive on this planet. In a spiritual emergency, you can write a poem in the inner consciousness to your future self, as this boy has done. He’s important to the world. You can count on one hand the number of kids that can do this in all the world.

Do you want this dead in him? It is right now. His parents have killed it. You’d call me a dirty old man because I want to see him so insistently, but your stereotype is wrong. I opened this boy’s consciousness, and we openly share consciousness together. We can prove this miracle. This is not the only poem of ours that shows it, because in poetry writing, in union with me he does it, and to have been torn asunder like this has caused our very souls to reach out for one another, and what else in him could have written this poem but his soul. Social consciousness, the first example.

Edge of the Game
(Written October 2023)
Samadhi of the Gods is in my heart
water drops.
Like any other kid’s life my life is complicated.
I don’t praise my parents I praise the Mother.
Hot Wheels on the road,
Boss Baby here.

Hah, I’m athlete, don’t fight me.
Sticker bushes in the sky,
clouds in the ground,
study abroad or study up rod,
my life is not stolen it’s in the safe.
Don’t you laugh at me for a little blah blah.

I’m like a marshmallow.
Can I really look handsome?
Sinkin’ through space,
Gandhi said you are a race.
[two above lines heard sung]
I don’t like biryani I like burger.
I don’t vote Modi but I very much do hear melody.
Garage of the forage,
call me Mr. Poppins.

(I have a vision of laying wounded in a bedroom in a white bed. The Mother and Sri Aurobindo are near me and start meditating when I wake up, and I start meditating with them. When I start meditating with them, they give me a power stroke to say what’s going on, like by the power, like I know everything. I was told I could talk to them anytime I wanted, but I have to snap into my supermental body because my physical body is here on earth but my supermental body is with them. Then I ask the Mother for a poem to get out of school, and she says the line below)
Look back and you’ll get out.

I’m thinking about leaving.
The ancient realm is alive.
Fate decides you,
(vision of General Iroh telling me the above line
in a Fire Nation ship in a vision
)
what kind of man you become.
Rebuild the evolving species,
hashtag flying away.

Earn money for doomsday,
it’s in the eight sector.
Betrayal is not good for God.
Organize the pieces
you’ll see what I’m talking about.

Dive deep under the water
without a swimsuit
you’ll see the glowin’ star.
I see my dogs
in the garden with the Mother and Sri Aurobindo.

I’m a part of the lily pond.
Everything is reversed here.
Pepsi or Coke a Cola I don’t know.
Pepsi not for sure.
It’s pizza time at the lake.

I shaved air.
I’m a hill climber.
Peacocks look at me weird.
Do they see the shining sun?
They have the magical eye.
It’s easy for them to see me.
I’m in the wild with them.
I ask where is my dog.
In the jungle I say.
Why can’t it be in the plains,
can’t it be in the house,
can’t it be in the water,
can’t it be in the hills,
can’t it be in the hill climbers?

Sure do hill climbers climb that mountain.
Well, I’ll fly to that mountain.
I have the God’s eye.
Maybe I can see the angel on top of you,
because behind me
it’s an organization
assembled by the Gods
and the God Himself.

School is such a pain in the ass.
That’s where I get my boils from.
School doesn’t pop it.
My house pops it.
Bamboo sticks they use it to beat children in the school
and they use it to make sugar in the factory.
Well you sure are making a way for the demons.
Show me the certificate if you’re gonna hit a child.
I’m going to God to talk about this.
Well, next time bad spirits of school Nazis.

Please don’t hit my kind.
You’re all a unified mind.
Rhythm is not for music it’s for poets.
I sure do use a lot.
Why is ice on fire in Earth?
It’s sure not like that in the spirit realm.
I’ve visited that place.

Walk with honor.
The ball’s in your court.
Lay down the law.
It’s not an opinion.
It’s the whole world.
Free angels in your mind.
I’ve stopped drinking coffee,
but I’ve moved on.
It’s one or another.
Soon he’s gonna get married.
Everyone should learn to smile.

Gutter door is open.
Play along for awhile.
Treat yourself.
Spirits go away.
Hold onto them with your breath,
knowers or brewers.
Mr. NoMore is out of town.

Lily ponds are as beautiful as our inner.
Record my fame for history.
Business talks are not for me.
Boy of the Northern Kingdom is about to wake up the whole world.

I fell out of my place for nothing to eat for I hit the ground sooo hard it hurt my life a little too far I cannot take it. I cannot carve through this mountain of lives. I am not so fine. The trauma I experienced in childhood I can blame it all on school, school, school, school, school. school. I am not a rapper. I’m a taper. I tape my life. The wounds can heal. My muscles can grow. My life can be a Christmas gift.

The Poet of a Sunrise

photos by the author
What happened
at your advocate's office?
He was threatened,
when you came alive he was threatened.
He had to obey his mother.
Is that the real card?
You thwarted her.
You put yourself there not the mission.
It was all your fault,
never mind her cruelty.

Why do you allow her that?
Why does she have all the power?
You’re not being fair,
and it has never changed,
and I got no help there.
So blame it on me,
but You could’ve helped.
You could’ve done something.

Why die?
Because I’m lost him,
and I cannot live without him,
and it’s the betrayal of the universe,
the betrayal of God.
There’s a spider there.
She believes it,
does not see how inhuman she has become.

To not even allow you to embrace after all that pain,
two solid months of grief?
She kept him behind her
and even put her hand over his face
so you could not see each other
when he tried to look at you from behind her.
No one will show her cruelty to her.
We just want you to feel certain effects,
and We allow this.

Yesterday was your tragic happening,
and you did that tragically.
The list’s off the end.
I know to pleasure that,
so I know I’ve done the right thing.
There is no possibility.
There is no possibility.
There is no possibility.
He’s deleted everything
except the system delete.
Go in the freezer please.

Open your account.
You’re a fish.
You’ve got to give maybe.
He needs your care and attention.
This number’s strong.
Please try later.

This is the stage of real power.
This is the lonely winter stage.
It’s about who’s going to the stationary shop
and buying him metals and honor.
I can do that.
No, no, my hair’s growing.
Lydia
will fight me for it.
I’m not concerned with that.
I’m concerned with your future.

People this is imaginary pool.
He hasn’t told me these things in the outer world.
I look at him in spiritual vision,
and I hear him tell me things.
Lydia I think you’ve punished him for that.
You have a primitive mindset,
all of you,
and you don’t understand the power of poetry.
I have restored everything to show you.
These poems here might be valued long after you are gone.

What that boy is is a poet,
to a degree that most childs aren’t.
Here is a poem that speaks of the future.
It’s talking directly about
Sandiya taking Nithish from me,
and the way that we find peace from that,
how to do it.
It is written in poetic symbols.
You will only recognize the last line
as him talking about what’s going on today.

Read this poem and tell me
he has no future here;
this is the stupid babbling of a child;
this does not show that he has any talent whatsoever;
this is just a piece of garbage.

The argument I am having
with his mother and father
is over his future.
I can give him American citizenship,
a U.S. passport to travel the world,
a university education in America
if he so choose.
I will not shove school down his throat.

I also give to him
the status of a poet,
not his future self,
the child Nithish today.
What is a poet?
A person all honor
and hold in high esteem.
They write the culture
and give it direction and meaning.
They hold out their hand
and presidents and prime ministers kiss it.
They are the special meaning
the world awaits
with honor.

I give that to Nithish.
His parents can’t.
They are concerned with possession, rules, and school.
I have his department.
I not only know what he wants.
I can give it to him.
They know now he loves me,
wants to be with me
and has this whole time.
They punish him and punish him now
simply because he loves me.
That is not fair.
That is not right,
and I’m sorry you have to see this,
two parents doing this to their child,
from waves of jealousy
and hatred of the foreigner.
Here I am,
and here is his poem
take us to the future.

Paradise Things With Lyrics
by S. Nithish

Reach for peace,
but it’s a long jump away.
It’s One stairs.
Butterflies are our airplanes.
They’re peaceful and calm.
They can fly us to space.
From there we need to walk.

There’s a place for everybody in the world.
I did two steps:
let the Light be the guide;
my place is out of this world.
We all have something that we should pass on.
I do not have a turnoff button.

The ancient minds were better.
They left out clues for us.
They left out clues around the world.
We should always say thanks.
Stars were meant to be together.

The Big Stick

His YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/@s.nithish1830
A heartbroken line.
You just have to write this down.
There is no Earth and Heaven but you.
We glide here on our own devices.
We can’t see the world around us.
It’s blind to us too.
We can’t even see our yard.
There’s a process there.
It’s image on sight.
We have see things to believe in them.
Our fingers have to touch their face.
No other process allowed.
That’s the ring around the rosie for us.
It’s how we live.

It gets us in a lot of trouble.
We can’t always see things.
When people are away from us they’re gone.
We imagine their existence,
and it’s not real to us.
They’re not there.
Now tell me what to do?
Go outside and see things,
and try to transfer sight
to some bigger picture happening before your eyes.
Don’t just see your little world.
It’s gotten big enough
to swallow you whole.
We gotta get outta here.

It eats us alive.
It’s the only thing we know.
Can you see this?
Do you know what I’m talkin’ about?
We are blind before our face.
Our world is the world,
and there is no other
that has the reality of ours.
We can put this in a movie
or a sports field,
or maybe even a good book.
We feel something other than ourselves,
but we’re involved in it.
We’re still the center of the room.
Look at YouTube Shots.
They piece you to pieces,
this show, and that show, and this show,
and you have your favorites.
Where are they taking you?
They don’t know how to time.
They don’t stop.
You are lost there
in the middle of you.

I’m tryin’ to get to some larger whole
none of us see.
We’re divided up in pieces,
your world and my world
and Larry’s world.
Will we put our glasses on and see this?
It really sucks
you know when you lose someone.
Say you had a kid
and you’ve been raisin’ them since they were three.
At 12 you lost them,
and they were just taken from you
for no other reason than just to take,
‘cause you made someone mad.
Devastating.

It was a bubble relationship.
We were the captain of our ship
laughin’ at the world go by
we teammates, best friends,
together all the time.
We were joined,
and the world went by,
and we were so special in it,
so much comfort in each other,
so much love.
And then you lose that boy.
No contact is allowed,
and you watch that boy turn
like he never knew you,
and now he wants you gone.
No, no, I didn’t abuse him.
His parents did.
He was broken whipped and spanked
until he gave his parents what they wanted,
the keys to himself.
They can do that.
They’re Indian parents.
He was broken,
lost his will,
lost himself.
They spanked him,
and he cried and cried,
and I had promised to save him
and couldn’t come.
That anger rides.

What are we left with?
A quaking world.
Death would seem a happy state,
and I almost long to be there.
I want my boy.
I can’t take it.
There is no escape from this pain.
What do you do?
You feel pain.
You don’t know what to do.
There’s no way out.
Months ahead,
the death of a child.
There is no remedy for this.
I’m lost in him,
and oh the jesters of pain,
that kid could care less if he sees me again,
in just two short weeks.

Where do we go?
To death?
We have to do something.
We have to live.
We have to get up and live.
You’ve been fucked by the universe,
abandoned by your Gods.
All soul’s failed,
and you’ve got to find another life,
and you really want the one you had.
You’re stupid you tell yourself,
a fool.
Children are treacherous,
and they only like pleasure and joyrides,
and their heart can be bought with candy and cake,
and they forget you,
even when you were their whole world.

I’m dying in this pain,
and I’m just showing it to you
so you know of the reality of which I speak,
in some little lost world
forgotten from the whole.
To cut him out of my heart is blind.
That boy needs protected,
and he’s in a bad situation.
It’s an abusive situation.
I cannot abandon him.
I must go on
tryin’ to free him,
but the loss is too great to bear.
You see the predicament.

It’s going somewhere.
I am being perfected for him
in parental ways,
as he will need to be healed.
If he returns,
he will be healed
with certain hands.
I’m ready for him.
There is just this need to swallow,
this ever aching need
that he fulfill my life,
be its ornament,
and meet my emotional needs.
How can I get rid of this?
Don’t look at me funny.
You do it too
with children.
We are property lovers with them.

I don’t know how to do this,
and that is my lesson now.
It hurts.
Where do I find you?
In the lesson plan.
I’m reaching out to you
to be a lover with you,
to put down that kid a minute,
and let’s say hey look at this:
we are fragmented world.
Will you do the time with me?
It might be a pickup truck
that takes us all on a ride
to higher skies.
That’s where we think about larger things than ourselves
and the contents and people of our little world.
I’m pushin’ yah there
in my own flagpole
as I do this too.
Will you sing with me?

Will we be together again?
We come from afar.
This is not our home.
We’re on dangerous ground,
where the Void meets Earth.
There are doings here
that have us all undone.
We live out our lives
little people,
totally forgetting
who we are together,
the very next field
above this one,
the supramental field.

I’m ridin’ yah there,
journeying myself.
I don’t want to go.
All my thoughts on little boy
and what’s going on with him right now.
Is he happy is he sad?

Is he missing me?
Would he like to see me again?
Are they hurting him?
This goes deep.

Alright I’ve told you some
about what we don’t talk about:
look there’s a whole;
look there’s together again;
look we are bigger than what we are.
Have I reached out to you?
I can’t see it.
I don’t even know you’re there.
I think that’s a reality kingpin.
I’m alone in here
in front of all of you,
because of my perception.
Can you figure it out?

That is put to the finish.
Hey you got some things growing up there.
Tunnel things
this reality.
It’s trustworthy.
There’s no other way to see it.
We’re not real,
is that how far this goes?
Do you see what I’m gettin’ at?
Where is reality’s footing?
Where do we place ourselves?
In the center of attention?
I think we look higher up.
We look where it happens,
where reality gets arranged,
and we find ourselves there
watching the arrangement.
Isn’t that funny?
Here I am.

Suffer the supramental solution.
Sri Aurobindo
wrote his letters
just sittin’ there.
He didn’t see the disciples,
yet he knew they were there.
He didn’t have to see them.
He had concrete inner contact with them,
and he knew what was goin’ on.
He could see their own selves,
and he knew what they needed.

This was just vision to him.
No, this was the substance of his room.
He grabbed the whole with his own hand.
It was his messenger.
He substance see’d,
knew in relation to the whole,
and he could see without errors.
I cannot do that.
I have strong inner vision.
It doesn’t come
everything’s true
without errors.
It gets a lot of lie,
exaggeration,
and endless possibilities worked out.
I can’t see straight.

You don’t know how much this sucks.
I’m glued to inner vision
now to protect my kid
and bring him back home,
and it’s driving me crazy,
all these scenarios
played out one by one.
He’s been hit with a dog.
He’s been pissed on and raked
over an open fire.
This just kills me,
and I don’t know what to do.
The bad part is over,
when they broke him
to turn him from me.
Now they’re tryin’ to act normal,
and they want him to be happy.

Gaslighting is the order of the day.
What’s a kid to do?
Acquiesce
and be what their parents want them to be,
do what their parents want them to do,
and say what their parents want them to say,
and that’s what he’s doin’.
and I can have no contact,
and not a single person there will tell him of me.
It’s inhuman.
It’s a total blackout
they’ve arranged.
The abusers become his saviors,
and his beloved grandpa a foreign devil
tryin’ to take him from his family.

I was his main parent
from the time he was six.
Six years with me more than his parents,
and they’re gaslighting him
to make me some babysitter
they mistakenly arranged.
Okay public, what to do?
I’ve shown you his card,
a song he wrote himself
when his parents were pullin
and kicking him about school.
This is where he is at.
This is the boy on his own.
Where do we find him?
I hope that’s not the graveyard.
Can you come
and help me find him please?
I really need you,
and this is a live child
waiting for your help.
Can you help?
Oh Puducherry,
you couldn’t Aarthi.

Now there’s hope.
The boy’s alive.
How do I know he’s unsafe?
His father’s a killer for a Lawspet gang
with BJP connections,
but he hasn’t killed in awhile.
Says he’s done with it,
but see the gold on him you’ll know
he’s still involved,
a gold ring on every finger like a pimp.
He could kill that kid
in a jealous fit of rage,
and the mother’s of low character,
and she may not prevent him.
That's where this is headed.
Don't be sorry.
I’m calling on you now,
Puducherry,
rise up and protect that boy
before anything else is done.
Will you help me?
Can you take this boy to safety?
That’s wonderful.
Thank you.

This is the boy’s address in Puducherry, India:

64 Nettu St.
Kurusukuppam,

Puducherry, 605012

The street is only a small alleyway accessible from Advocate Chinnathambi St. Fourth Cross. Go to Le Nid Apartments on Advocate Chinnathambi Street, stand facing the gates and turn right 90 degrees and you will see a little alleyway in front of you. Go down it and it immediately turns left and his house is the first door on the left. There is also an Ave Maria Kebi on the left side of the apartment gates.

Nithish’s school and he’s in 7th standard: New Modern Vidhya Mandir Higher Secondary School, 73/A, Pillayar Koil St, Angalamman Nagar, Muthialpet, Puducherry, 605003

His father lives in Chennai and has a business there and comes to Puducherry on the weekends. Here is his business address:

P. Sundaram
S.S. Air Controls
No. 432 Pachaivalliyamman Illam
29th St. 6th Sector
K.K. Nagar, Chennai 600078

This is the address they spend the weekend at, usually from Saturday evening to Monday morning. It is his father’s parents’ house:

17 Kaman Koil Street,
Ashok Nagar,
Lawspet, Puducherry.

The Mother Waits

photo by the author
God as the ultimate existence that stands up creation,
I would not see this as the Mother’s fancy.
It was not her might.
It wasn’t even what she was doin’.
She was an Integral on Earth,
a divine mother in human form.
She was perfect and cast away all cares?
What does a Mother mistake look like?
It doesn’t look strong.
We can pick apart her works,
accept what we want,
throw away the rest.
No, we would not find the Mother there,
but we need to know she’s strong,
who made mistakes.

Who couldn’t see her mistakes,
would that be a bridge too far?
It’s the point of contention.
It’s where we start.
Now an integral arrangement sees everything
in light of integrality.
I will melt this understanding
if I say it too quickly.

The Yoga of Integral Perfection
calls for perfection before you start.
Is that the gardener of the house?
What does it mean be perfect in everything you do,
always be perfect,
never falter,
never let your guard down once,
and be austere always
and ban pleasure from the room,
all forms of pleasure,
and wait for the bliss divine?
I’ve paraphrased what the Mother said.

I’ve told you the truth.
You can read it yourself.
Do we take this and run with it?
We die.
It’s not possible in a human life.
This is what we avoid,
rigidity,
a non-integral arrangement.
What happened here?

The Mother spoke from her gun.
She didn’t lift her voice and sing.
She got carried away
with the force of her words.
She wanted divine perfection now.
She couldn’t possibly tell us to get there that way:
no flesh in the pan;
put it on immediately.
And yet this is what the Mother told us.
It gives us scars.
It makes us chew nails.
It can’t be right.

We are left wonderin’ what to do,
and we go to another place and she said
balance your way there;
don’t be moral-minded;
don’t be a puritan;
take it one step at a time;
come to integrality slowly
as fast as you can;
give yourself room to breathe;
it’s okay darlin’ I love you.

Can the Yoga see this,
the Mother made mistakes?
We would have to look at her death,
months of moanin’ agony,
and Pranab said she never mentioned the Work.
We have to look at this.
I’m sorry we have to.
Was this a baseball card?
No, it was her death.
It happened to the Mother,
and she spoke so bravely of death
on so many occasions.

What happened there?
All her austerities came to bear.
She couldn’t lift them no more.
They caught up to her,
and in the end they ruled her.
Do you know what she did?
She kept death at bay.
She actually, physically, kept death at bay,
and it was her time to go.
That’s what we must see,
the strength of a God was in that will,
but it was misplaced,
misapplied,
because she was there to conquer death you see.

Oh wait a minute I’m backin’ up.
She was there to override death,
make the physical a plaything of matter.
My gun has misfired,
I’m sorry.
Make the physical obey the will of the Mother.
In all her austerities involving matter,
that was her aim.

She didn’t get that far.
She came upon her consciousness
and wanted done with it,
and here’s where I do you business.
She wanted done with the spiritual transformation
before it was complete.
How do I climb that mountain?
Have patience with yourself my dear.
How did I come to that conclusion?
Evidence of the ego in Mother’s Agenda,
her outbursts of anger
on the floor,
her impatience with herself,
her still working it out in dream,
her pride
at being who she was.
The Gods wanted her darshan
she told a child once,
who had angered the Mother for not waiting on her.
Watch her hide her toothless grin.
What do you say Donny?
Mother I love you.

In his haste to put things right,
make her where the Yoga stands,
Sri Aurobindo overlooked these things in her,
and no one could challenge him otherwise.
Do you watch the Agenda?
Early on is it?
She tells Satprem she has gone beyond Sri Aurobindo.
The exact nature of her words mean that.
I think it’s the next session or shortly thereafter,
she reports Sri Aurobindo with a stomachache.
It’s all over his face.
Now this is vision of course.
What was he trying to tell her?
She missed it completely.
Do you see it?
She hadn’t gone beyond Sri Aurobindo.

These are ugly things to look at,
and we don’t want to.
The Yoga of Integral Perfection bids us do.
In her mistakes we are made right.
We let them do what they need to do,
give us some indication of the hardness of our endeavor,
know that it’s not worked out yet
the Yoga,
and help us do it ourselves,
avoiding those mistakes.

My God I’m sorry I’m showin’ this to yah.
I’ve dealt with it for years.
Maybe you have too?
There was the Mother in books,
and there was the Mother holding my hand,
now my kid’s hand,
sometimes very different Mothers.
Can you hear this?
You’d have to get concrete inner contact to see it.

I’m not down on her.
She is the one I follow
to make this yoga work for me.
It’s her hand I hold.
It’s her eyes that direct me where I’m to go.
To write this poem
I tried to tell her no.
I don’t want to make you mad at me.
Maybe we’re newfound friends?
I obey the Mother,
not always,
not every time,
but in my life
she eventually gets her way.
I concede.

In you’re hearin’ this poem
I do.
Please don’t shoot me for it.
I love the Mother.
I am her disciple,
and I take her to heart,
an integral, loving, mother
that is the divine power behind this yoga,
our protection,
and our abide by Sri Aurobindo.
Do I give you all my knowledge at once?
They are one you know.

Now let’s get this beer can
away from my lips.
The Mother wants it so.
Now every once in awhile
is fine.
Now here’s the deal:
how do you break the rules by followin’ them?
There has to be a plan,
and the Mother laid this one out for me.
I like beer,
just a beer in the evening one or two times a week,
but that would be every evening and two beers before long,
and the Mother knows that.
I could become an alcoholic
so easily.
The Mother’s told me that.
Okay here it is:
an austerity of every once in awhile
has to be followed to the letter,
and I will know what that letter is
when it comes time for another beer
inner contact with the Mother and sincere.

Can I get you a train?
She’s here for all of us,
and she’s right there with the plan
for your sadhana.
The divine mother she is.
Expanded so after death,
became that omniscient being
as far as we’re concerned
sadhaks of the Integral Yoga.
She’s our Shakti.
She’s our boss.
She’s such a loving mother,
incredibly above cars,
and you and me are a car
takin’ our yoga down the street.
My job these days
get that yoga goin’,
by principlin’ it in myself
every time I turn around,
using myself as the chopping block.
I try everybody.
It’s not like I always succeed,
but I’m the Yoga
speaking about itself.
Will you give me the time of day?
Thank you.

The Mother waits
for integral understanding,
move this yoga down the road.
Am I just a blight on y’all’s ears?
Correction.
I have the integral word.
Will you hear it?
You mean practice?
If you could do it.
Okay this is the church process.
No, it’s everything that touches you throughout the day.
It gets bigger you understand,
a divine process.
That’s an integral arrangement.

Gonna application
in the very spots that give you problems,
and you’ll get better at it every day,
with many drawbacks,
even goin’ backwards.
It’s piecemeal with sudden starts
into a brand new day.
Ever the horizon waits
for you to arrive,
and another horizon comes into view,
day after day after day.
You just integral see
you’re comin’ together on the plan,
and it’s all comin’ home to yah now
you get better at it.

Enjoy yourself some,
yeah sure.
Vital letting the hair down
puts this yoga in perspective,
and sometimes it’s not even wrong.
I can’t rulebook.
This is as plastic as infinity,
and all your nature’s on the line,
learnin’ how to control itself,
learnin’ how to be made right,
learnin’ the way to go.
It doesn’t happen all at once.
It’s a blind see
in the very beginning,
a hope and promise
in the middle,
a really coming unto yourself
a divine keeper
as you arrive.
Awesome the world looks,
and it’s not your master anymore.

Can I glide here?
This is where every minute counts.
This is where you have to do it or die.
This is what you’ve all built up to,
and you really pull it together here,
with the Mother’s help,
and it is always there,
the Mother’s see.

All I know is that cat,
she gets and spites you,
that muse of creation,
but I didn’t close this poem off to the public.
This better be good.
Because I struggled with the Mother in writing for years,
her presentation on paper,
the discrepancy between that and the Mother
that was guiding me,
and I’m not the only one.
She’s soft and warm,
but she’s fierce in her picture.
She can sound so ego
in the things that she said.
She can sound ridiculous
a time or two,
like she wasn’t grounded in reality,
especially near the end.
Her obsession with truth for example,
would if you’re hiding Jews?

Somethin’ happened to her later in life.
She became obsessed with questions
that body of hers could not answer.
She wanted immortality
that the body wrote,
and she left Sri Aurobindo’s teachings,
here and there,
in the yelp of her cells,
a sadhana so perilous,
she almost lost her mind.
She gave Satprem a golden key
to screw up the Yoga after she died,
with the transformation of the cells
what the Yoga now means
to so many in Auroville
and around the world.

She set him up for failure,
and we could not ignore him,
she put so much attention into him,
and we need to ignore him.
He was an egoistic maniac.
And what of Pranab,
did you ever meet ‘im?
A hateful man.
The Mother chose him to be her guardian,
and we’re left with his legacy today.
What a hateful ashram we have.
I’m dealin’ with that now.
My little boy makes ‘em mad,
bein' with a White man,
and they’ve been mean to him.
I can’t write poems there now.

Do you know what the Mother said about music?
Narad was gonna bring down the new music,
and he tried and tried.
There was no understandin’ what the new music was,
but it’s basically music played or sung to you on the inside,
and you’re open to supramental life.
Narad didn’t get that.
He was not a vehicle to get there.
Ananda Reddy was given a mandate to spread Sri Aurobindo’s gospel,
make it understandable to men.
He’s tried and tried.
Thinks he’s done it
from what I understand.
He’s gotten the Yoga off track
and is not open to the Mother.
He hates me,
and Narad won’t speak to me,
ever.
What do you do with that?
You call it ill will.

We’re left with the Mother speaks,
and that was not always correct.
Can we find our way around that?
I have.
I’ve confronted it head on.
I’ve seen behind the veil,
and I understand the Mother in time.
They said if you saw her you would understand.
She was more than human.
I’ve questioned so many people about that.
Her presence caused people to wonder
if not God had filled the room.
Did you know she slapped a little girl
across the face?
I heard it from her brother himself.
He witnessed it,
was a kid too.
She got mad at the child and hit her,
and no one said a word.
It was at a function and the child misbehaved,
nothing major.

Was that the first time?
Why did I hear about it?
I would imagine you haven’t.
That about wraps it up,
the last image I want you to see,
to understand
the Mother was wrong sometimes
in her earthly embodiment.
A Yoga of Self-Perfection she wore
she didn’t live up to,
never mind the Goddess behind the frame.
She told us to be perfect,
and we can’t,
not at least from day one.
I’m finished,
a poem
so real on itself
fulfills the time on the Earth.

The Room of Sri Aurobindo’s

photos by the author
What came first the chicken or the egg?
Why the egg of course.
Auf wiedersehen.
Is this is a prompt?
It’s skyward license.
I’m on the way up.
This will shake your world,
and I’m a pied piper—
hey everybody let’s go.
You’re sterile wars today.
I’m gettin’ there.
I have an honest day’s work.
My hat grows today Supermind.
It’s Supramental Darshan
at the ashram of Sri Aurobindo
and inside the whole world.
Comes once every four years,
leap year.

Did I shake you some?
Nobody’s doin’ it today,
where Supermind’s concerned.
It’s a blow out the top of your head,
on the top of the world,
beyond the universe.
It’s a station up there,
who you are inside
beyond all the lives.
It’s God up there,
on His first row.
We get bigger God.
You identify with You.
You’re there,
the origin of all your lives,
the Being you are in time
representing.
You are there You.

We come back to this,
as our being gets there.
I don’t wanna get this wrong.
We are representative in time,
representative of That,
this station above our heads Supermind.
It’s a golden foyer open
in all its glory.
We haven’t gotten to that yet.
The Mother released it into the subtle physical.
It’s yet to invade matter,
but it’s there on our tops,
if you’re old enough to get there
in wheels of sadhana.

You can experience this,
and all the doors you have open to do.
They take you by surprise.
I’m there I said.
Oh no I am not.
I’m not even in Silent Mind.
I’m sittin’ down on my spool
measurin’ sadhana.
I let the supramental influence glow,
a time or two,
throughout my day,
because I’ve been up there you see.
Right at breaking point,
and I beam up there again.
Well I can block it all day long.
I’m holdin’ myself down.
Oh I’m sure your influence has somethin’ to do with it.
You don’t put together the world
hey look there’s Supermind.

I’m all over this.
It’s a supramental thought I write,
and I do it damn near every day.
The top of my head’s open
for to receive.
You hear this now.
Baby, I’m yours. [line heard sung by Barbara Lewis, line song title]
You know how the song goes,
“till two and two is three”.
I’m a supramental can.
I don’t give you the straight shoot the whole cigar.
I can’t.
I’m in Overmind bundles.
I give you some facsimile thereof.
I’m talking to you
so many think cans
an overmental thought wore.
I’m not the direct Sun.

I couldn’t even try.
We haven’t everglade that yet,
the world is open to Supermind,
and it writes our poetry.
There’s a balance
between error and what’s this shit?
Okay who corrupted my piece?
We are aware of those.
Now you wrote
the most healthiest thing to say
if you were formin’ Supermind
to an overmental audience.
We’re all overmental today.
We are on the plane of the cosmic Gods,
anywhere we touch religion
and put on spiritual shoes,
and Overmind formed civilization,
if you didn’t know.
That makes us pretty overmental,
any way you go.

It confounds the animal,
and it makes us man.
Did I get that right?
Or people I should say.
We’re good in it.
We’re terrible to people
who do not honor civilization.
We cut them up in little pieces
and feed them to the dogs,
even if we don’t love them.
Did I just say something wrong?
Well the Gods are merciful,
but our hands in Their laws
carry the day.
We just stood there and punished sin,
God there or not.

We are overmental beings
how we see reality.
You don’t see that pole.
You don’t even see me
an answer to grave letter.
I’m an overmental pail,
and I see into this matter deeply,
sittin’ here open to Supermind,
the bad man on Earth.
You get bigger God.
Not all overmental divinities are open to infinity.
I carry the Integral Yoga
of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo,
and overmental House if you please.
They are open to infinity, within infinity, within infinity,
and they are open to Supermind.
This is a Tamil bakery plan,
and it’s all over the place,
but Supermind arrived here
in the Mother’s plans.

I am the supramental manifestation on Earth.
And you would be wrong,
if you brooded there.
The Mother didn’t manifest Supermind either,
where her consciousness was concerned.
What am I sayin’?
You’d hear me say it.
It got on Sri Aurobindo’s tops,
but he did not abide there,
but he did not manifest it there.
He was a supramental being
in form only.
He didn’t get there.
Sudden shoot ups saw him stop
in the Supermind,
and all the glory he arose.
How do I count this to you?
Let’s understand it.

Though Sri Aurobindo counts Supermind,
we encounter him in Overmind,
as our uncle and our sage,
as our guide and our teacher.
Do you worship this?
Do you just sit there and count stars?
Supermind’s above us,
and we do not get there in overmental ways.
I have all these knowledge bits for you to handle.
I am not a sudden sit there
in everybody’s glee.
I tarry you
in understanding,
because it’s there,
Supermind and Supermind realizing on Earth.
This is a different mode of consciousness
than God on Earth
in any form today.

We don’t worship transformation
hello God.
Supermind grabs us by the arms.
No, it doesn’t even call on our tops.
It transforms.
It doesn’t deity.
It’s just itself up there
lookin’ down.
We look up and meet it,
and in that look transform the world.

Do you snake bite?
I’m afraid you do
there’s no hope for you.
Everything’s about vengeance,
and even the Gods dry there,
in wells of compassion
they can’t seem to rise.
Where do you go for healing?
Can we tell the public you do?
This is Supermind’s regard on the world.
It heals stuff,
transforms its nature.
It uses the very stuff of nature
to do that.
My how amoral this is.
Right in nature’s man,
it takes a man’s vice and heals him with it,
heals him with his sin,
changes it,
perfects it,
gives it divine reason to live,
and all the harm has been removed.

Nature won’t allow this
in halls of man,
and we get stuck there,
not knowin’ what to do.
Oh it seems us right to punish.
Punish harder take out the stinger
it is believed.
Can I get you there?
It doesn’t work.
Throw a gay off a roof,
and you have a dead gay.
Who has healed homosexuality?
Oh if I said pedophile you would agree—
kill the son of a bitch.

What do we do now?
Give God the plan.
In sudden moments of universe,
I’m on my tops now,
basking there.
You’re there with me,
not all smiles.
My God the forms of this world,
they carry you to Supermind,
and they’re right there on our tops,
changing forms.
Do you see the God inside?
I can’t pronounce it none.
It’s where we get bigger,
lookin’ at the world through formless eyes,
letting the world get bigger
than her visage,
seeing behind the form God.

You can’t let a thang trip you up.
Nothing can get in your way.
You are bigger than the world you see,
and you find Supermind there,
behind the forms.
It’s been here all along,
is the ground of everything really,
is where creation starts,
in the supramental pail we are.
Supermind’s the ground of being,
as far as we’re concerned.
It’s what gives intelligence to matter,
is the look that set the stars to light.
We see it blossom in a flower,
so insects will eat it,
and pass their honey round.
It’s the arrangement of things.
It’s starred everything
to a certain hour.

It has no business here,
as interferers.
We can’t pray to it and get it to act.
It’s bigger than the Gods.
It has no fetters
the conditions of the universe impose.
It’s here I said,
in sudden storms,
not as a God acting,
as time being,
since it’s the nature of things.
Can you get this?
Would you believe it’s here now,
a time born storm?

The Mother and Sri Aurobindo arise
its fountain on Earth,
not as Gods,
as the beings they are,
set to this task.
You wouldn’t worship them there,
but they’re aligned with Earth
to see this through,
and they’ve picked a pedophile to bring it to you.
Do you see Supermind?
You can’t know its formula,
unless you do.
Transform the nature of the Earth,
can you get a better man than pedophile
to reveal what needs to be changed?
And he is not the revealer.
You are.
My God the piles of wood
we’ve chopped and stacked today.
Do you see them?

I’m there,
right around the corner from you,
and we’ll meet soon,
as the glory finds us.
You hear me people?
What do I say but WHAM!
It is the nature of things,
the supramental manifestation.

The title to the above poem came several feet from entering Sri Aurobindo’s room at the ashram in Pondicherry, India. I had completed the poem waiting for the room darshan outside, writing it all day, both at home where I live in the country and in the city, driving in traffic and sitting at various businesses and at the central park. The last line came when I arrived at the ashram in the late afternoon.

What the Mother Said

All photos by the author
Yawn as you snap them Gods.
They wouldn’t know what to do with Themselves
free.
We see Them bound to our lives
in cosmic grooves of fate.
They are larger than time.
They can’t get out of this.
We are prisoners in Their room.
They study us.
They can’t seem to get us right.
We’re a whirlwind
in a thunderstorm,
and They are stillness and delight,
and They control themselves with might.
The clash of Speakers we hear overhead,
They’re around about us now.

We are cosmic poles
in Their existence.
Hear Them call our name.
Hear Them be there for us
to change our natures into man.
If you don’t think you’re an animal look back now,
where you meet nature in a click
that eats up all of nature’s stores,
and then you go to war.
You’re a forest dweller
in the nature of your desires.
You can’t see past get up and go.
The Gods are there on our tops,
guiding us to better cages.
They do not know the freedom of the Infinite.
In a paradox of know,
They stumble upon the Infinite
and stretch it to tin cans.

The Gods they wore,
the bright and start of old.
They can’t seem to find the Infinite
all their knowledge bore.
They cut us in creeds
of certain flesh.
Religion bore that name.
The Gods have bound us
to this.
They are a soliloquy on our tops,
giving us lore.
I can’t find this
improving our lives.
They are a reason against the Snake,
but where they find you biting,
They are blind to heal you.
They just make you stop.
They don’t know the deeper reasons
of life’s coil.

They are not there you see
here on life’s base
encased in matter.
They see us from afar
up close.
They do not understand the knot and waste.
They live out Their lives in splendid heavens,
traveling toward infinity,
the kingdom of God,
all righteousness and wrath.
They sip with us awhile
foundering on compassion.
They are brave and strong
and know not the poison of the fall.
Evil is not on Their lists.
It baffles Them and us.
They chase it out of night.
They battle it with Their spears and helmets
on the patchwork of the universe.

We are Their hope and promise
to principle evil
and grab it by the horns,
a victory for starry Earth.
A seer in his wisdom
has gift the Gods to us,
else we would fall into the Void.
This is not our fate,
but we are beyond the Gods
on our journey home.
They are a regulation and a might
to keep us from starring ourselves,
to keep us from getting bigger than our lists,
to keep us from operating on ourselves
where They are concerned.
They are both a help and a hindrance.
We need Them.
No we don’t.
They help us
get hold of ourselves.
They keep us from going home.

We just changed fate and the world,
without Their interference,
where They languish on land.
We’re here.
They’re not.
Beyond space and time
we write our lists.
The Gods can’t go there,
unless they do as one of us.
That’s a starry role,
fraught with peril,
fraught with mercy.
This is an endeavor for the Gods only
if They want to go beyond Their starry heaven.
We don’t see Them do that
none time soon.
The Earth’s great spiritualization
will see Them incarnate here.
It’s a vehicle of Supermind.

The tallest bond,
this is the engine we’ve all been waiting for.
It’s bigger than the sky.
It’s our next step above,
beyond the Gods.
These are our evolutionary springs
and their destination.
We have broke the bounds of the universe
and come to universal cause.
No cosmic God can figure this.
This is a whole other ballgame.
These are universal bonds
the conditions of the universe find us in.
They prefigure us
to a certain stage.
This is starry night,
and the Gods are our guides
the conditions of the universe impose.
This is our starry prison.

A nursery rhyme is this.
We live on high,
who we are above the universe,
our next prefigured destiny.
The Gods are aware of this.
They are not our goads there.
They hinder us and move us
in Their direction.
This is a starry configuration
we are lost in.
Greater home is ours.
Can you save the Gods?
I wouldn’t even find you there.
The Gods are cosmic hierarchies
permanent in Their heavens,
and They love it here,
all-powerful Beings
with worlds to play.
We applaud Them and move on.

Can you see this?
It’s what we’re doin’ on planet Earth.
We will bring our higher selves here
to inhabit bodies on physical Earth,
our bodies,
in evolution’s slow curve.
Who we are on high
will be who we are down below,
the monumental change hidden in the size of Earth.
We will get there,
and existence will have its heaven right here.
Will you notice this in your room?
It’s starting on our tops now,
and here I am showin’ it to yah
in sudden starts.
Greatness lies wait.
Okay,
global consciousness,
and we’ve found our solution to the room,
present Supermind.

These are the high stakes.
We’re in the water now.
Who we gonna tell?
Come on kids let’s go.
We have a world to feel.
Keeps yah on your toes.
This is the most important
thing to hold onto to:
challenge the window.
We don’t beg each other’s fences.
Here everybody that’s a whole Earth.
The lesson in the window:
through a big difference
we see it all.

Bring in a new game.
How was Earth made?
It has a special core,
the universal core.
How do we evolve what do we evolve?
We can hack other Minds.
Clarity Grace is not just a name.
It’s an power,
one of a kind for Earth.
Kings are not just patriots.
They’re criminals in their own kind.
We should put some cushions under the Earth.
We just dream of a perfect life.
[the above verse Nithish’s muse, my 12-year-old grandson,
what he heard right where mine left off, ending this poem.
He’s named his new Beagle puppy Clarity Grace.
]

The universe has hit me,
and we saw it happen
the universe of Nithish,
not quite done.
You’ve gotta figure we’ve got a friend with some God,
the cosmic hierarchies Mother and Sri Aurobindo.
You’ve got to figure we’re in liaison with some God.
It’s the mailman
in a blue truck
open to Supermind
at every pole.

Nithish and I Down by the Samadhi

Nithish and I taking a selfie together for this poem

This poem was written for the trustees of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry, India, and was given to them the only way correspondence can be, if you are not an ashramite or someone they know, by giving it in an envelope to Mr Puru at the photo room adjacent to the Samadhi, and whether or not he will pass it on is entirely up to him. The Samadhi is the tomb of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo, where people come to sit, meditate, and pray, which is located at the ashram.

We met these tomfooleries.
Do you ever look at your own car?
Can you be a better sadhak in wood,
a better disciple of Sri Aurobindo?
I lunge there:
I spend my day in total concentration.
This is a farmer on my land.
I really till the soil.
The concentration comes and goes,
but it’s picked up time and time again.
It’s fits and starts,
all day long.

Can you be a better sadhak of Sri Aurobindo?
I’m burnin’ on that ground.
I clear my mind and find it’s there,
for few certain minutes.
Can we come back to this?
I always do.
I am disciple of Sri Aurobindo
that always hears words
my inner ear hears.
I write them down
through a voice recorder.
My God I’m a seer someone said.
No one’s said this yet.
I’m just this guy with wood,
if you see me on the street,
held by my little boy.

He’s white and I’m black,
as society sees us,
an easy lesson in symbols if you hear.
What color am I with him?
I am navy green.
That means he’s safe with me.
What a spectacle for a pair of eyes.
The racial mix’s intriguing,
on the bandwidth of ourself.
Don’t doctor this up.
We’ve got infinity going for us,
racin’ around,
a whole field show.
We do sadhana together.
I be his teacher.

He’s not cloven foot.
He stands on his sadhana too,
a kid in grace and poise.
Okay stand back.
Here’s where we differ.
Open the inner consciousness
child.
Reach in there and find soul.
Open up in vision God.
The Mother and Sri Aurobindo take those places so many times
in his dreams and visions,
and in his understanding of God.
A child’s understanding basks in time.
No matter,
they are his guides and goads.

He’s opened the inner consciousness,
and his poetry would map our Earth,
if we but could give it time to breathe.
School shoves it down his throat:
hey kid, study for your exams?
An exam is a holdover from the last institution:
caveman you gotta learn this mile;
it’s survival of the fittest.
My God the lists against this kid are strong.
It’s a wonder he’s even doing it,
bein’ a vehicle of the inner voice.
The inner lines are strong.

I know the doubt and fear cast on this.
You would only see
to know.
His latest poem I include
at the back of this email.
His latest voice I include.
We measure this
by the strength of his ego.
That’s not fair.
A little kid’s sense wrote this.

Now here we are sittin’
at the back of this ego.
And we mention the poet.
I’m in the poem you see.
Now listen to a story.
I’ve given my kid the voice recorder.
He might get a line.
We are at the opposite pole of the Samadhi from the crowd.
I’ve never sat there before.
I'm with my other student Mithun,
who hears inner music.
I don’t got no more students but them.

A band plays.
I hear the line “Ice cold Samadhi”
just given into my inner ear,
but my boy’s got the voice recorder occupied,
whisperin’ in two lines of his own:
“Rechargeable minds here,
Olympus.”
Here’s where it gets weird.
Someone not connected with the Samadhi watch,
not a staffer there,
or so I think not,
gets an eye on the voice recorder,
walkin’ by the mountain.
“Gimmie that.”
No polite words were spoken,
no considerations one,
no respect none.

It’s here you’re doin’ sadhana,
when somebody pops yah.
All the gold comes out.
I’m sorry to say none of mine did.
In the ensuing conversations
with this person and that,
I just defended myself,
and my boy there.
I did not do what I was supposed to do:
not react,
but I didn’t tell one person off.
I kept reaction out of my voice,
to the degree
anger and ill will
I didn’t let show.

This I was careful to do.
No one heard me.
No one said a word.
You know how this is gonna be reported:
that son of a bitch lied and stole.
You will believe your people,
of course,
but all things show themselves in time,
and no one will be able to lie then,
together or apart.

I’m left with a voice recorder
I’ve used there now many years.
I’ve written poems from that Samadhi,
framed one and gave it to yah,
“The Rotisserie of God”.
No one has ever copied me,
the reason I was told I couldn’t do it:
everyone will.
You think I’d of been discovered by now
if it were a ruckus,
but I can bring a pencil and paper if you insist.
That leaves me with gold
they will take from me there,
when I come to pray.
We will check you now every time.
You know when a threat’s spoken.
It’s the hatred in their eyes.
We will harass you every time you come here.
Can this not be what they really said?

Well Savitri asks for boons,
from the spectre death.
I’m not gonna ask for the blind to see.
I’m just a sadhak not Savitri,
but I hear you call my name,
and can I write poetry sir
on my voice recorder at the Samadhi?
Well, I’ll wait.
Now here’s the one I’m worried about.
Can I enter the ashram gates
without bein’ harassed?
I’ll bring pencil and paper sir,
until you tell me otherwise.
No hidden cameras to record my voice
I’ll wear.
Do we have a deal?

Trustee please,
are you spiritual?
This is a Samadhi question.
I live there
in my heart all the time.
I react, sure, but I’m there,
and I live in vision.
I see the world before my eyes
a thing under creation.
It’s being made right now.
I hear this in vision,
and you did too.
“Ice cold Samadhi” means
it was a frigid place
emotionally,
and where was this?
It was in the situation I described.
These men were ice cold,
no warmth at all in their voice
or in their eyes.
Immediately they rose to anger,
all riled upon themselves,
and I’d had prevision of this,
in that line of muse,
just before it started.

The world rose there,
before my very eyes,
and I only saw it after it was over.
Could help then?
Well it sure helps in our conversation.
I don’t think those men
gathered the future before it happened.
They were not focused and gathered.
All came to put that foreigner in his place,
like their reaction was natural the order of the day,
like they weren’t doing sadhana.
They acted like the inner voice had no place in Sri Aurobindo’s yoga.
It was wrong.

Can I tell you something else?
Well, my inner voice was right on.
I forgot to tell yah…
Some people say no
I just made a mess.
He wants to go over it look—
my muse on where I’ve been.
I’ve been to the moon and back,
if you’re listenin’ to muse,
and I’ve danced with the military
on tactical nukes,
a U.S. special forces commando.
I’ve been in the heart and breath stop in Silent Mind,
that hurried glance,
and I saw the Gods in their tiers in Overmind,
and on a rim of dreamless sleep,
dived into the well of soul.
Would you believe in overhead?
The consciousness raises up there,
like several meters,
and there you find Supermind.
Makes for a lot of poetry.
Brief glimpses all,
but I’ve seen what I’m sayin’.

I can go round about the world
a penniless vagabond—
27 countries in 10 years.
Do you have that faith?
I don’t think you even learned Classical Greek.
Translate Euripides into English verse,
and you’ll gather strength in poetry.
You also get good at it,
in time.
Took me 25 years,
even after I started hearin’ it.

Now can we define the future poetry?
The future’s got that in hand.
I don’t understand.
I’ve heard the future call my name,
and you won’t show this to anyone?
Paper airplanes
every poem I’ve made?
Make or break yah,
these are not conventional teeth.
Are you open to the divine?
Candywood
make or break yah,
what you hear on the internet today.

I’m sorry I took it up,
the internet speaker.
I get laughed at and lauded.
The latter’s not louder,
but they’ve gotta eat too,
the people on there for the breeze,
and I might be seen soon
by a pitchfork and a vital
that hate me so much I go viral.
Look there’s nothing in them,
the threats I face today.
The rotating officer
is not interested in me.
I’m not hurtin’ anybody.
I’m not doin’ anything wrong.
Now you’re starrin’ me,
at your look see.

Oh well,
do it to her face okay?
Get another bad piece from her.
You gave her a poem
that said she needed to work on it,
humanity’s tiger.
Do people really wanna act like that at the ashram?
A boy his hair,
that’s what he does.
I thought you’d notice
they walk silly.
Good idea,
I’m talking about
being human kind and loving
to all who enter your gates.

You’re gonna have to,
whadda you do?

Really buckle down and be good to people,
and her hair could be picked up too,
and she could focus and concentrate,
breakin’ along can reality period,
yeah, yeah.
Global,
I even ask you to global change.
Here it is you have a mirror.
There’s broad stroke said it.
There’s the yoga.
Everybody makes mistakes.
Would you offer this to the Mother?

Opening up kids,
I agree with you.
We don’t block them from society.
We fathom them God.
We don’t fathom them school.
And they become there,
on the journey to God
a society rose.
What do we hope by it?
We get bigger than ourselves.
His heart,
a little boy rises
his soul.
A little boy rises
I’ve been meanin’ to tell you.
The expectation’s not the kid.
It’s the consciousness.
What’s this mountain?
You wanna bring God into the world.

I tried to do a little explainin’
on boyness and the nature of man,
on bein’ human.
We are here for this.
We need all our strength.
Practice is another suite.
Send it sweet.
Did you get everybody put in this spirit?
It takes the world to make it up.
Blown up yeah.
We made it here,
in this section,
to the touch of a magazine.
Everything’s online,
and this will be too,
now or never.

Do you understand the flavor here?
That’s the flavor of change.
That’s the flavor of Harm’s End.
These are bunk beds,
and we live here,
grandfather
and his grandson
you keep hittin’ at.
Did I mention Douglas?
Puts together his life with the Mother.
A house is not complete without dogs,
and we have four.
They are the love of our life.

Our friend is on the roof,
Narasimha,
protecting my house
if you should try to take me down.
I don’t die.
A divine worker is protected.
This is what I’m aiming:
the life divine.
So much power,
you’ll have instructions.
May God bless you.

Your outer form was carried right.
We are not derelicts or sinners.
We are safe and sound.
I’m will
extra deep,
alright?
Okay,
you have been warned.
You don’t mess with divine protection,
but are you really mean-spirited?
Does the Mother cross your brow
if you should hate someone?
Okay your character’s on the table now.
May you wish blessings for all.
May you really hold the Mother’s hand.

I bear you no ill will.
I’m not in a campaign to smear your name.
I’m doin’ what I’m supposed to be doin’,
here writing you a poem,
now doing sadhana.
I’ve changed the ticker tape in his life,
that kid.
Am I glad
he met me with the divine.
I’ve met you that way.
That’s the story.
Oh wait a minute daddy I wanna fix my lunch,
one second.
A purity of kid rose,
a gracious cartoon.
Now let’s survive this
and become better friends.

You know it’s there,
the fact of your will or consciousness behind a lesson.
Okay,
noted.
Well it will transfer
that it was made by the foreigner.
Okay,
spit on ‘im.
I don’t think so.
Your thought process in relation to your thoughts,
and you pick them up randomly?
Now that’s got uncle and brother,
your bigger clothes,
without AI.
I’m here to help.
Paradise Things With Lyrics
by S. Nithish

Reach for peace,
but it’s a long jump away.
It’s One stairs.
Butterflies are our airplanes.
They’re peaceful and calm.
They can fly us to space.
From there we need to walk.

There’s a place for everybody in the world.
I did two steps:
let the Light be the guide;
my place is out of this world.
We all have something that we should pass on.
I do not have a turnoff button.

The ancient minds were better.
They left out clues for us.
They left out clues around the world.
We should always say thanks.
Stars were meant to be together.

Death’s Star

photo by the author
You want to recognize you’re there dead.
You can’t take a worldview.
You’re not operating in that anymore.
You’ve just died.
This is serious business.
It’s a wake-up call
on the other side.
The enormity of the shock
takes your breath away.
You’re just stunned,
not knowing what to do.

Where is Jesus?
Where’s the stars?
No religion has showed up yet.
You’re on your own,
transitioning.
It hurts.
It’s just simply awful.
You can’t stand it.
You don’t want to be there.
You don’t know how to be there.
There’s no instruction manual.
You’re dead.

But life has just begun,
the dead life on the other side.
You cry out for help.
Someone hears you.
Are they the right one?
You don’t know how to do it,
receive them.
You’re just so confused.
You open the door to faith.
What you believed in on Earth
has not abandoned you,
and if you didn’t believe in anything,
it comes now.

It’s tall and strange.
This is not what you expected.
It receives you
one moment/limit at a time.
[above words heard spoken simultaneously]
You are not automatically taken in.
You’re put up with.
You’re just a person there to process.
The compassion of the angels
shows in fits and starts.
You’re a long ways off
from being received
on their condition.
You’ve got to glow first.

Bad times ahead,
as you encounter
what tripped you up
on Earth,
what got your goat,
what you couldn’t handle,
what you refused to see,
what you licked and swooned over,
what you didn’t know hurt you.
You are put in these situations
where you encounter dream.
There is no home base anymore,
no central mode,
but you come back to yourself over and over.
That’s your central lair:
you are this being in time.

It runs roughshod over you
you have to dream on.
You don’t like it.
It sucks.
Slowly you get your feet under yah.
You get used to the rhythm
of see-saw death.
You climb.
You step up.
You receive them,
all these packages
of people you knew in life
that you made a storybook with.
Some of these are reunions.
You hold their hand.
Some of these are joy-shock.
You cling to each other.
What we wanted on Earth
we get here.

You’re in union.
It lasts the length of a cup,
and you’ve been given a solid measure,
and you are ready to depart
for other perfection.
You see people there
you hated in life
or you did under.
You do not enjoy this section.
It’s compensation.
You give them what they need,
and you move on.

This is fair and certain:
you have your encounters,
and they show you life
as oneness sees it.
You can reject no one,
and all morality’s based on this.
It is oneness we spring from
and what we manage
living.
We are here to be one.
A deeper look arises from our journey.
We go the distance
to a greater life.
A quest of the Spirit pulls on us,
and we let it take us in its arms.
We are higher now,
lighter in spirit.
We are so together now,
and we’re ready for more.

I’ve taken you there,
right to realization’s wings,
when you become a ship on the other side
sailing into God’s heaven.
You’re right there at Heaven’s gates,
the heaven of your pearl,
the one you sing about
to encounter God.
You are not all together
a central ship.
Many heavens receive you,
and many positions of Heaven there are.

Now let’s get goin’
towards the realization of life.
You can open those doors here
and redirect your life,
and when you enter death,
you are in kingdom.
It’s not about dyin’.
It’s about being prepared to grow up.
We do that here.
We do that there.
Here counts
more than there.
Here is the rollercoaster
of the fly-room.

These are conscious gates you see.
Open up your life here,
on this growth,
and life will line up to receive you
in all of the quests you need.
Uncanny this,
strong and large.
You’re in good hands
on this journey
to your being’s growth.
I’m countin’ it to yah
precisely in measure
with my life under the sun.
I’m a conscious arrangement,
and I poetry this to you now.
Bombs away.
Thank God it’s Friday.
Thank God I’m not in your way.

Death’s a cookbook
I jargon.
I have a bunch of history books
repair life.
You want to read them now.
Come on let’s go to field.
I’m a happy bottom death.
I’m a joy to the world.
Just listen to me sing.
I planet with Mr. Rogers,
still have his medicine:
I really love
bonding agent
to the poems I write to you.
Take me.

You wanna watch that video or not?
It’s limited stairs,
but I’ve baked you at hide and seek,
and it’s all gone wrong.
There is no leeway here.
You just wanna get to where you’re goin’,
without all the rough stuff.
You don’t wanna lollygag.
There’s Hell’s kitchen
that will not move away from you,
if you don’t come to.
Where am I?
Oh shit you got it.
I’ve read your paperwork on that.
It’s my own.
We have been through these stages so many times.
It’s a revolvin’ door.
Just listen.

Hullabaloo
on your spot,
you have to be careful.
You haven’t learned my draft yet.
I’ve really gotten shadows.
Van Helsing,
here is monster’s lair,
where you find them.
Don’t scream yet.
They haven’t caught you.
Don’t realize your time,
they will.
Now I’ve put all the poise in,
and this poem is right here with the market.
How would you find after death?

Dally there
coverin’ up our pickup spots.
It’s the issue save a Lord.
This a mode to deliver God.
How does the call center get such a hideous head?
Can you hear it’s divine element?
Put it in your pipe and smoke it.
That’s how we race cars.
We local His feet put on,
and divine reason we format His being,
without that hunch.
I don’t say black I say white.
That’s not a dirty gun.
That’s not a slave our gun.
I get to know You.
I know you do.
Now be quiet.
Are You mad at me?
Put 10 extra effort,
add rifle
to your calling card.
It’s now clear.
Ah, open your eyes.
You’re a divine endeavor.

And that’s what we die for.
I mean God put us on to be human.
I haven’t listened to His music,
I haven’t listened to His song,
I have to keep dying to put it on,
and that’s the guitar,
the way we become divine.
This is street music.
That’s what blesses us everyone.
My God I’m arch-pink,
and I’ve got subscriptions.

Each thing we revolve around God.
This is a vehicle of thought.
Wow, we’re in the ways with man.
There might be the thought in there you wouldn’t even know exact,
but it already fits the handle
I have my hands on God.
We want to broadcast that
to where our being lives in time.
We are on the way to Godhood,
who we are in time.
Bust out usually for lunch,
on the wrong and us wanting to survive.
We meet that with heroes.
We do not let God down.
That’s our humanity.
I will pick it up
one role at a time
and deliver it from evil,
following
God behind the dust.

Death is not an entrapment.
We get up by it and fly.
We glory it all over us.
The 18 store is closed,
and we reveal something else.
Can we run?
We no longer die,
just our bodies
after a long field put on.
We manifest
the nature of God,
right here on Earth,
and we have conquered death
and overcome pain,
and that’s where we want to go with this.
There is no such thing
as a void of that,
and if I fall short,
this will be tied together
with real humanism,
with my humanity,
and I will overcome this obstacle in me and in man.

Okay,
email.
In fact,
put in the right notebook
and send it out to the world.
Principle the opportunity.
Praise the window.
It’s still goes into Mind,
whether we read it or not
on this post.
It’s how we survive the culls
on thought.
It’s how we survive.
I’m a limit-book on that.
I go beyond the limits.

Thank you for coming you’re across the road,
where death is not so bright.
We are not in its envelope.
It is not our keeper.
It’s a son of a bitch.
Between love and your loved one
there is death.
I am sorry this be.
We can do nothing about it but die.
If death were a person I’d shoot him,
gouge his eyes out,
but let’s be reasonable about this:
the acceptance of death is the acceptance of pain.
Death alludes us,
will not let us explain reality
in terms of trust and love.

Alright it’s there.
So be it.
Here’s some advice a gravedigger would give you,
puttin’ your body to the worms.
Bardo, I don’t know,
it is a spiritual test,
and we grapple with it
till kingdom come.
That’s the starlight.
I’ve spoken death,
wonderful news,
that we survive its existence.
Anybody hungry for oblivion?
See you on the other side.

You climb out of sleep into death,
and that wakes you up,
thank God.
Get out of the water,
and be calm and clear-eyed towards death.
It’s a menacing stair,
so necessary to our birth.
Taxman that’s true,
but there is so much hope in this commercial.

We don’t even know what I did.
I’ve raised the sky,
took the furious route.
I’ve given you diamonds,
and I am loathsome to you,
a real life pedophile,
giving you knowledge in your sleep.
What does woke mean?
Join us, will yah,
in the knowledge that you are one with and wanting to relate to
anybody that can be related to,
the mechanic’s store,
to where we get enlightened,
not a thought process a change of consciousness,
a complete reversal as a matter of fact,
and we see ahead of us divinity.

Put that in your woke starter and smoke it.
That’s the system of wokeness.
The miracle of other people,
do you feel it?
It stings sometimes.
Take out your woke lists
and pick me up.
I’ve got a special offer
for the people of the entire world.
Kinda gets in your guns, doesn’t it.