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.
I am down on Main Street just by bein’ there. I’m everybody’s special mission. Ah, I’m studying the ways of the world, the field of mankind. I have the Earth in view. I see what I’m sayin’. Do you see it?
My poetry put you in barns. No, it’s not clipped prose. It’s symbol wrought. I speak from vision’s lair. You see the symbol on it and the all-managing meaning. What does a barn mean? You got animals in there, and it’s where you were raised if you can’t polite society, or if you don’t know what it means to be human. Am I calling you names?
Well let’s get there, to where I wanna take you, and it’s not the hatred bunch. I sit in your smile and sing. It’s got symbol on it. I sit in your animal and sing. We are all rough wars. We’ve got some things to learn about each other. Can you see the writing on the wall? We would celebrate that Hebrew saying. It shows us so much.
We are not kind to each other. World Kindness Day has an explosion test. This guy went off on me, and my kid just stepped on a red carpet. He was livid with hatred. I didn’t understand it. I thought I’d done something wrong. You know how kids are, they play. He stepped on a standing iron that meant nothing.
It didn’t make any harm. He was dancin’ into the ashram on his feet. No he wasn’t making swirls. He just got in there in kid shoes. A little pole he stepped on its base. You know the kind with tape between them to guide people in? I’m describin’ the action so you can see the picture: nothing happened.
The thing didn’t get injured, and it didn’t make any noise. The man jumped up, sittin’ there right past the gate, and started tellin’ somebody they were out of line. There was no line of people there. He was just talking to my kid, ignoring me, purposefully. Now who is he talking to I thought at first. The man showed me what my kid had done, like he’d entered Auschwitz a Nazi protector, like my kid had really done something wrong.
He demonstrated the action, stepped on the thing. I couldn’t believe it. I was surprised. Without saying anything, wanting to get to that Samadhi so me and my kid could learn the school of the Samadhi that day, its lesson, I half-turned and gestured a mock surprise, then bellowed my arms and changed my face a mine of that boy being guilty of grave concerns, but I was laughin’ about it in my eyes and face it was so trivial in nature the boy’s infraction. It was such a good performance.
The man did not appreciate the performance. He got mad as hell. I think I said first “He’s a child.” He made the Shh! gesture to his lips like he was shooting me. It hurt. That really isn’t the quiet area. The way he thrust his face forward and danced on his feet, I saw the problem, racial hatred. They don’t like foreigners in that ashram, though they’ll pretend to if they like your name, and my kid’s Tamil. That Indian was not. Wow, the can of worms we can open here. The Sri Aurobindo Ashram hates Tamils. No, but they look down their nose at them.
I tried to give him my name but he refused it, trying to be kind and not answer the reaction that was bubblin’ in me. He didn’t give me a chance to do the yoga. That man called another man, a passer by, Tamil if I’m figurin’ right, to enforce this prejudice against Tamils, but all he knew he hated foreigners too. You get that in India a lot.
There was a dance, as the rude individual safeguarding Nazi ways showed the other what the boy had done by doin’ it himself. If it was really wrong then why’d he keep doin’ it? Well the Tamil man hated me too. Why you’d ask, because the boy had done something wrong? I asked both if they were concentrating on the yoga. Those fingers to their lips stabbed me in my heart. I called out their hatred. I felt as though if I said another word they’d call the police. I just had to say it: the Mother is watching you know, and there I joined my boy on the steps. They gave off a noise with their postures and facial expressions that showed I had really messed up.
I walked away. Nithish was almost in tears. I could see the pain in his eyes. He was hurt. He wanted to go immediately, leave the ashram. No, we do our Samdhi today, and I glowed with him as our foreheads came to that special place, where we meet our masters and put their energy in our papers.
On the way out I stopped, right there in the gate, turned and faced the man and said good morning. I wanted him to see me. I had wanted to take his picture, but convinced myself no, cameras aren’t allowed. So I stood there, my camera’s eyes. He looked at me and put his hand on his heart, like he was the most gentil human being, and said good morning too.
I wondered over the proximities of human behavior. What mules we are. I could’ve done better, but how about you, do you see the writing on this poem? This is typical ashram behavior with guests. What can we do about it? We can write poems and show the world.
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.
Stop dyin’.
Don’t bury yourself.
Don’t compromise.
That’s when your guesses are weak.
Our thesis is this:
a themed to understand mankind.
Is that controlled see?
It’s bigger than you and me.
It doesn’t land you in the dirt,
grovelin’ life force pennies.
You know what I mean?
Now let’s program.
I will see you off to school,
okay?
I can’t do that.
Let’s do that.
You and Roberson are part of a family plan.
We have convinced you to send your kids to school.
Now that was a trick.
Don’t you blame it on the industrial revolution?
Thereabouts.
Universal education,
put China as a role model.
She started long before.
I’m not tellin’ yah to do it.
I’m tellin’ yah it stinks.
What’s wrong with society?
School.
We teach academics not to be good to one another.
While Japan started with good citizenry,
they created a monster,
copying the West.
We don’t teach boys and girls to be good people,
how to handle life,
their depression,
modes of being,
ways to get out of trouble.
We focus on one thing:
good handwriting
in academic subjects,
brain things.
Do you know how dumb this is?
Look at society.
I’m not talkin’ teachin’ morals,
do this don’t do that.
Yah hear me kids?
We’re not producin’ robots
Confucius.
We want them to obey
their conscience,
and that’s not mean and cruel.
It doesn’t hit anybody,
unless it’s warped,
like a magnet,
and is attracted to society’s dominance.
We want individuals here (sorry India)
that stand and reason
for the juxtapositions of society to stop.
Do you hear me Houston?
What do you teach in a classroom?
Able-bodied citizens,
can I speak with you?
Of course, I’m open.
Why you learn from me?
Now that’s a touch subject.
I need to study you first,
and we look at criteria.
These are society’s ways
we understand how to teach.
Well this presentation
is not a memorization kit.
It’s a school play.
You play a lot
to get the concepts down,
where society meets its roles.
Okay now you be the immigrant,
and you’re the assimilation policy.
You take it in droves:
students must constantly assimilate new material
of what they will face in life.
They will be ready for life.
We want to think and we want to feel
oh my that’s sad isn’t it?
I don’t think we avoid the tough stuff.
There’s a toddler in a revolution
sees his parents killed,
his brother his sister.
They live in Gaza now
or a kibbutz nearby.
Alright third grader,
feel that.
Are you lonely now?
Do we teach them to read?
Without society you cannot read.
We read all the time.
We need to learn to read to write.
Expressing feelings and ideas
takes the spotlight.
The grammar and spelling
is to encourage them to write,
and neither demands them to write.
Now I can polish off the academic subjects
in the same way.
It’s a feelings test.
Does the student feel like shit?
There’s still a prize
for academic achievers,
for those smart kids.
We just follow up
with their holistic report card.
We need them kind too.
We need them on the ball
to bring in a better world.
Piles and orchards,
we don’t spread them out in those.
Okay kill the neighborhood
you’ve made the secret formula.
Here’s an idea:
don’t try to make a scientist out of everybody,
or a doctor or an engineer.
Oh India you’re lost here.
Does the kid have a talent?
Teach them that
as if their life depends on it
because it does.
Teachers are role models
of good behavior.
If they fly off the handle they apologize
and start again.
Did I say they love children?
They never hit them.
They know what it’s like to be in school,
and that’s not all day.
It doesn’t take over children’s lives.
It doesn’t even need to be so big—
little small groups here and there
neighborhood arranged,
and there’s mixing
to bring everybody to state.
We do sports.
Do you see how small this is?
A few hundred students no.
Sometimes just a handful—
depend on the center used.
We really want time for the students
to get the attention they need.
How decentralized is this?
It’s a whole other concept of education,
called No School by the Mother.
No one follows her anymore
in this regard.
You wouldn’t spank them.
You can have an administration
visiting all the schools
constantly,
friendly,
a great big leviathan no.
We want nice people
that can work hard and play.
Do you hear me society?
Martin Luther King Jr. at the Controls by Donny Lee Duke
The three best ways to keep a lovin’ song down:
keep it under wraps;
tear it apart;
or get it morally censored.
What will happen to this song?
Change the world
in person.
Chronos’ fuckin’ with ‘im.
What do we do with inner process?
Figure it out?
It’s discrepancy,
and I’m tired of it.
I can’t see anything straight.
What do I do?
Move off campus.
You mean not listen to You?
Don’t dwell on thought.
Don’t just sit there and think.
Try something different.
Image real to yourself.
Play with your thoughts as reality in front of your face.
You’re lookin’ at the world
you’re lookin’ at your thought.
Try this at home.
Image reality to yourself
where people really get your goat
they know you so well.
Try not to open the door with thought.
Be a blank mind.
Stretch this
to infinity.
Don’t stop tryin’.
Your effort is your sadhana.
This is not success or fail.
This is do.
You savvy sweetheart?
I wil try.
As I was sayin’:
I don’t trust inner process
to tell me what to do
in that moment in life.
Otherwise make it happen
to change the world,
and you know it can.
Why resist?
That little boy,
this goes deep,
the relationship I’m having with him.
It’s complicated in poetry.
Our lives are in sync.
We share thoughts and boundaries.
Our inner lives are in sync.
We temple together.
There’s a line of his muse
in my poetry
when he didn’t see it in my poetry.
I hear this and celebrate
close ties,
eyes that join
in inner vision.
Is this too much for him?
He’s just a kid.
I’m glad you asked.
You’re the engineer.
The little boy spills all in front of you.
You teach him how to handle himself,
play poetry,
what his nature house.
I never gave him the thought.
It just occurred
when the Mother,
the Mother and Sri Aurobindo,
they took that boy by the hand.
He became Their disciple.
Would you believe a bolt of lightning hit him in the chest
standing before Their last darshan couch
Supermental Day last?
That’s how it started.
The opening came then.
I was there to facilitate it,
to open him to God.
I am his sadhana master,
and that’s the basis of our relationship.
There’s no monkeys in the house.
I don’t cancel him down.
She’s had the dog
in her parents' room,
when they abuse
where the line are.
When it’s my turn
to be his parental figure,
I’m very careful with those lines.
I know he’s angry
about getting slapped and beat,
threatened with death.
Ice cream
I buy for him every day
in my care.
We talked about that.
We called it moral-minded.
I thought you understood
you don’t raise a kid with rules.
You can,
if you want a kid bound by rules.
I’m the horse guy look at me.
Put it right in your phone,
desire coming up.
Don’t put a hold on it.
Be free and easy with it.
Don’t stay there.
What’ll I do with it?
Put it in the iTunes Store,
avoid that button.
Just sit with it clear and easy.
Don’t let it push you.
Don’t give in to it.
Don’t even tickle your fancy with it.
We don’t beat it.
We sit it out,
wait it out.
It’s not wrong it’s just there.
It’s a smelling salts for reality.
It’s unique to you,
why would you say that?
Everybody has to deal with this.
We regulate it
with a host of laws and penalties
as if they work.
We do not let it be an excuse
for behavior.
Freewill comes into play
we are told.
We disclose it to each other.
We are ashamed by it.
We have children,
we block this sight from our own view.
We don’t see it
in our hands as we wash them,
in our eyes
as we see them so fabulously naked.
It’s there,
and time will show it to you,
if you look.
We run with this?
We don’t eat kids.
They’re special.
They are in the room
when we see it
in ourselves,
when desire comes up.
Desire comes and goes.
It’s in everybody’s life.
It has to be handled.
It has to be seen,
seen real.
We don’t play with it
around our children,
if we can help it.
That leads to dead ends,
and children get spanked and smacked on
and get molested.
You know this is true.
Don’t let it entertain your monkey.
I’ve given other examples
the right way sex can be with kids
in “The Use of Animal Freedom”.
Hear that one,
where sex and kids meet wrong today.
To Rumble’s house
farther to go.
Tamil Nadu,
a door of a red handle,
punch out man.
Tamil Nadu,
stay away from the red door.
Don’t beat your children,
slap them,
punch them around.
They’re precious to you.
Do you hear them scream?
I think this is written all over your paper.
Children don’t have it easy with you.
They suffer.
You don’t know this.
You can’t see your own hands
Mr. and Mrs. Abuse Children.
I call this up from the deeps.
It was that way with me
when I was little.
Now my kid has made me mad,
done something wrong,
or just bothered me.
Then it all comes up again,
my unhappy kid-dom,
and I operate on program.
I don’t care the position he’s in.
I just start slappin’.
I don’t know this hurts him
in his developmental function.
I have that right.
I’m his parent.
Thank you God.
What’s happening here?
Desire has found its home
in a socially approved response mechanism.
It’s condemned on TV.
The presenters themselves
wack their kids
off camera.
I can compare this to touching a vagina
in a little girl’s life,
but you don’t know this is more harmful,
hitting them in the head.
I’m sorry I’ve made you mad.
You don’t know the power of violence over children’s lives.
You don’t know the power of sex over children’s lives.
Both harm.
One gets out the shotgun.
A sexual cannon no.
Mr. and Mrs. Abuse-Their-Kids,
pay attention please.
Where thoughts occur,
it’s not a bright and shiny place,
is laced with uncertainty.
It’s all on holdin’ the world wrong.
You see this you look.
The Whole looks at us.
The fragment looks back.
We are separate beings in time,
an erroneous vision.
Whatta we say about thought?
It arises.
It comes.
It’s there.
And a tenebrous unknown
has the thinker’s brow.
What gulfs lit the night
when we looked at the world for the first time
in the handicap of thought.
It pressurizes time.
It makes of us mincemeat.
It will not stop even for death,
what narrow bridge that is.
You seen it?
How special thought is
to make sense of the world,
to help us help or slay one another,
to give us more feeding room,
to come up with plans,
to turn around and change the world.
It hammers nails
on the fence of time,
held apart in yummy synchronicity,
modes of thought,
and get some answers—
quite the hero.
Do you get me?
I get yah dog.
Put your blue down it doesn’t stink.
It just sits in the powder.
These are the conditions.
You’re talkin’ about that boy, ain’t yah?
Don’t worry,
I have the edification.
I’m gonna spell it out to you.
We have a different choice.
You’re not gonna bust us up.
You’re not gonna hurt him
or me.
You’re not gonna regulate our relationship.
You’re gonna leave us alone.
Humanity needs this vision.
We play the game.
We don’t commode.
We be convenient.
We are open to you.
Two seers in time
startle vision.
We're not gonna compromise vision.
We’re going to remain loyal and true
to our seership.
That boy,
a man he will become.
Housed under my roof?
And in line with his truth.
You can use another poet
who can bring down Earth
on the stars of Heaven,
let them know our plight
and our road beyond them.
Here we’re playin’
some Krishna tune.
We are a bright and shiny love in the wells of time.
We do not make you stink.
We are Heaven and Earth together,
and we are seers of the Sun of Truth.
Throw all that over here,
everything we need to survive,
a protected house
and a place for our dogs.
We need your help.
Without your protection
we get violated
Auroville Media Ashram.
You know we’re your entity,
and we see the master plan as one future Auroville.
It’s up to you.
It’s your movie.
We are the inner you were built on,
5th army,
and we’re here to see the Sun.
There’s no stopping us,
unless you throw away reason
and pin us to the ground.
We’re your seers Auroville,
he and I,
the little boy and me.
Stick with the plan:
Auroville becomes divinized,
and the Yoga works.
Great the visions lay, huh?
Hey, you give thirsty a drink,
and you feed us with your vision.
Okay poets,
do your thing.
It will be misunderstood.
Can a kid change parents if they’re not happy?
What would address the soul need?
Would the parents have a right to say no
if his soul wanted him to leave,
if that were God’s will,
if that’s what the Mother wanted?
I ask you that.
How do you tell that?
First we establish that art,
and art alone,
will show that child’s soul
and the divine will operating in his life,
that art inspired by inner voice and vision.
Can I show it to you?
My grandson wants to live with me.
My little student wants to be near his master.
A seer-poet in training
wants to learn the inner craft.
This is soul arranged,
and I’ll prove it
with poetry written from the inner voice,
the boy’s poetry,
set in a video the boy filmed
just being a kid.
You will see inner process
amazingly match the outside world.
The two are in sync.
I have other prizes to show you,
but this one is the crown achievement today:
“Menu of the Gods”.
Now go
and see this video.
[hover over the last three lines and click]
a man wearing a red suit and sunglasses standing in a grassy area, photo by Simeon Asenov, Lightning, photo by Mélody P, both on Unsplash, image Gimped by Donny.
Indian spirituality,
can you turn on the lights?
Can you be exhausted?
You are there for the world.
You’re everything,
not just a lonely mountain.
You encompass the world.
It gets bigger in you.
It tells us how to deal with consciousness,
and very few Indians know this.
It’s not their religion I’m talking about.
It’s not the worship of some deity in a temple.
It’s bigger than Hinduism.
It’s much bigger than nationalism.
Sri Aurobindo yoked this to the world,
unfortunately.
An occupied country had him in bounds.
He shed this yoke
Supermind
and love his nation.
Can we falter?
In the spirit of nationalism we can.
Bombs away.
Okay now we have to deal with humanity.
It’s tangible it’s real.
It’s not just an idea;
we’re all here.
It’s not bound by nation or creed.
It’s how we gather ourselves
to do good on earth.
It’s not the soul.
It does not encompass God.
It’s where we begin
to save our planet,
to survive.
Think about it:
you as important as me
in the nation roll call.
Why can’t this happen?
No spiritual vision.
You have to go deep inside yourself to see it,
beyond ego.
It’s not just believed in.
That falters.
You have to experience this.
You have to get there.
How many do?
A handful on the planet,
not enough yet to guide the others,
not enough yet to change
from nationalistic vision,
not enough yet to see us.
You don’t know the value of this vision
of the whole.
I say humanity but dogs are included.
The whole damn world’s there.
You feel fish.
You identify with everything.
You suffer for this.
You can’t live in society
around other people.
They expect you to adopt their enemies.
They expect you to be mean.
A terrible noise
someone sees you with a prostitute.
They think you’re buying her services.
You make no distinction between people.
They all need help.
You can’t grasp this.
It’s too foreign to your concepts
of how to behave in the world.
You give everybody equal time?
You fool.
Oh you have your attractions,
your preferences your paint,
if you’ve seen humanity
in spiritual vision,
and you’ve not yet shed ego.
Hello everybody,
that’s me.
Those preferences,
I don’t just use them.
I don’t just foster them.
They can be used by the grand Creatrix to do Her work,
if you know how to wrap your life around Her,
around the divine mother.
Look I’m Indian
in my questions and answers.
An American said that.
Sri Aurobindo
gives me tools
so I can climb mountains
and give you the word.
We all sit in the lap of the Mother.
This is all play out
dynamic duo.
It makes sense, doesn’t it?
We can put together the world that way.
It comes in spiritual vision.
I’m Indian
in the truth of things,
American
as I handle the world.
See all this word?
It’s not narrow-minded.
It’s not even George.
Gender fluid this is.
Okay I’m feminine here,
masculine there.
I don’t think we understand gender fluidity.
It’s a consequence of spiritual process.
You give birth to your feminine
if you’re masculine
and vice versa.
No genital has to be removed.
No surgery called for.
You are a man
and a woman
in the essence of yourself,
in your ground zero.
I hold this in spiritual hands.
I’ve gotten down to that core
in a rising sea of inner process
and dreamwork.
I didn’t just adopt a belief.
I’m dual,
but it’s okay to be man in my pull.
I am a man
as the world sees things.
Let me fight this
because I identify as a woman?
I don’t think you understand spiritual process.
It goes that deep.
You’re okay in whatever skin you wear,
but it’s taken years to put this on,
no quick fix.
How do you open the inner consciousness?
How to you grow a tree?
You must become conscious of inner process
and dream is just the beginning,
but it’s a way station.
It will get you there
if you keep going.
Lots of hard work and inner concentration.
Your world will suffer some,
your outer being.
To find the balance takes years.
You see the problem:
how hard this is.
Enter the inner teacher.
Who puts together your dreams?
You’re gonna find out.
You’re gonna see deity at play,
your soul,
a world arising,
the thoughts and intentions of others,
a demonic voice and presence,
and all the things that make you tick.
Now the inner teacher is all that and more.
It orchestrates things
to put you in touch with yourself.
It’s inexplicably large.
It sees past, present, and future.
It’s personal to you.
It’s the inner guide.
It’s there all the time,
buried under layers of you.
You gotta get to it.
It’s there.
So this is not a machine,
a spinning matrix of unconscious doing.
It’s not automatic.
How do you find it?
Continue looking
until it dawns on you it’s there.
You savvy?
You hear me?
Let’s keep going.
Let’s not stop.
How can you trust your inner guide?
It’s infallible.
It’s larger than time.
It don’t leave you alone.
It wants the welfare of everyone.
It doesn’t stop at nothing
to get you right.
It’s very beautiful.
It manifests art.
I’m showin’ you what it looks like
when it’s on loudspeakers.
Inner process guide,
you’re hearin’ it.
It will bottom you
all the way to the top.
It will hold your hand all the way to the top.
Can you see it now?
I’m showin’ it to yah,
years of inner process.
You gonna stab me for it?
You gonna do me in?
I did follow him.
I’m all over him.
Something happened.
People are coming in on me.
Are they gonna interrupt?
I can’t do anything.
I’m a sitting duck.
Humanity it’s up to you,
but how do we call your name?
You’ll just delete
everything online
powers that be.
என்னடா?
So vulnerable.
Donny you’re tumble.
What are you gonna do?
You’re just right here for the job.
All this gate,
you think we’re gonna shut it?
Why wouldn’t he inspire?
Yeah sit down I see the world.
You see the world?
12:30 [vision of this on a digital clock]
Yes?
You have to start looking,
all of you.
It’s gonna go through this.
That’s inevitable,
whether you like it or not.
No, not what I was hopin’.
I recorded news.
It’s like this:
objectional voices included.
You’ll see how I got here.
All that big TV,
what’s happened?
You want this term to end.
He’s the man of the hour.
Who is he?
I want you castrated.
By the time he gets at that computer
it won’t be castration that you’re worried about.
Bragg at war,
you know it’s at war.
They handle you.
You keep doin’ what you’re doin’.
You’re not in trouble.
Don’t dally.
Come on,
poet’s progress.
I mean we can’t have you
knowledge just sitting there.
Alright,
I have a solution.
Turn your switch on. [vision of someone holding my laptop a little askew and turning on a switch on it]
That means keep typing.
Okay guitar, [spoken in Douglas’s voice]
it’s just a Mac,
a close-up of syrup.
You are actually good.
It’s time for the bulletin board.
Give this wings.
It’s off the top of my head,
rough note.
I was in school.
What did actually camouflage?
I was blocked in America.
We were told to run,
as the Green Berets had gotten our medal.[1]
No but they threaten you.
We’ll see what they do.
Okay get this classroom online.
The figure we cast in time.
What's your new ID?
I fence towards the One.
The precise figure we cast in time.
I can’t get drunk.
Lonely can.
I can’t do anything but sit here and cry.
I’m devastated.
Help me please.
You’ve got response.
Listen to me Mugu.
The Mother’s your electricity,
And she’s right there with you.
Hold her hand.
Just try.
I’m on your side.
It’s my job to get you outta there.
I need you to trust me Mugu.
Go ahead and move around.
It’s living space.
I don’t know where you’ll find other people but they’re there.
You’re in Nature.
It’s just spilled over into death.
No, you didn’t die before your time.
You’re in the appointment with death.
It’s time for you to move on.
I’m here to help you.
Just keep going.
Feel my breath upon your shoulder.
Let’s get you outta there.
Don’t falter.
Your attitude determines your state.
Don’t call things with your mind.
Bad things will come.
They manifest early there.
Think as high as you can
and keep going.
Lessen your state,
the heaviness of it,
the pain.
Just reach out your hand
and hold the Mother’s.
Hold it tightly.
She’s there.
I put your will in her,
and I’m here too.
I’m not leavin’
until you’re safe.
I’m really here.
Don’t doubt that.
The thoughts you are getting are from me.
I’m pressing in on your thoughts.
I hear you suffer,
and I’m here to help.
I love you Mugu,
and I have the knowledge and the power
to put you on my shoulders
and get you outta there.
Come, let’s go.
Let’s get you a horse.
That’s a moment Lisa.
Call her name.
It will take some time but she will come.
She’s ready for you.
She’s learned so much since her death.
Look for her now.
That Rottweiler will find you.
Just call her name.
Can you do that?
That’s a good purpose.
It will make you shine.
It will ground you,
and you’re well on your way to better.
Now go.
There you are mountain
In just a few steps.
Not protected
suffering so.
Come out of your grief
before the monsters come.
You will call them with your grief.
Lift your head up.
Shake it off
and start your journey.
This is happening to you now.
There are brighter days ahead,
but you have to will them.
Things manifest there,
like I said,
directly from your thoughts.
You’re not on Earth anymore.
You’re in some in-between place,
and it’s time to get movin’.
Let’s go.
Did he mess up?
Wants to Asiya.
He wants to break that guy’s neck.
Held obstacles,
and how could you not want revenge
murdered by someone.
Two live buttons:
Lisa and the Mother.
Mugu, 24, my adopted son (unofficially), was killed around 3 in the morning August 14th. He was murdered, stabbed in the heart with a knife, and there were multiple stabs wounds. He was trying to help in a domestic dispute, protecting the woman, and the man killed him. It was really a revenge killing, as Mugu had married the girl Asiya had wanted to marry, some three years ago. He had threatened to kill Mugu many times. I’m sorry to say that Asiya is also my adopted son. He’s now in jail. It’s more ironic than that. When Asiya was seven, his father murdered his mother and spent several years in prison. We unofficially adopted him when he was 10, as his family was going to send him to a hostel for the mentally ill, as he hardly spoke. That changed when he came to live with us, and he became a normal, sweet kid. It was a late puberty that saw the violence rise, and we didn’t even know it was there, but he still got all the way to his third year in art college before it defeated him. It happened that he threatened to hit a professor and was kicked out. He went downhill from there, all the way to murdering his brother. They grew up together, their latter childhood years at least. It’s all such a tragedy.
The poem above is a representation of a real conversation I had with Mugu on the other side, me in my bed in trance picking up on his thoughts, my muse putting them in its words, and me sending him the thoughts the of the poem. They probably came into his mind in Tamil and disguised as his own thoughts, but different ones than the ones that he was having, and there would be something about them that would make him question if there were not from me, or at least not his own, someone trying to help. In his abject despair, it would be hard for him to believe that. I will keep trying. The poem resulted from me sitting next to his body for about an hour, clearing my mind and letting him in. Earlier, a couple of hours after his death, right at the beginning of dawn, I had a very quick vision of him sitting in some small space, hidden from the large warehouse-like room it was a part of, with his knees drawn up to his chest, his face down on his knees. He was in shock. I only had time to say, “There you are!” before the dream vision ended.
I can only tell you that it doesn’t matter what you believe, when we die only our body does, and we pass into the city of the dead. Especially right after death, before and during the funeral, as was the case here, the veil is the thinnest between the living and the dead, but, as time passes, the dead ‘see’ here less and less. I am sorry to tell you there are no instructions when we die, no guidebook, and if you have no real faith in the divine or a divine, or in a larger reality, you’re just lost for some time, unable to see the help ready at hand because you don’t believe it’s there. Eventually, you get your feet under you again so to speak, and rise towards paradise, soul home, and another life, but you have to admit the spiritual and soul reality.
One paragraph can’t possibly account for the variety of death in human experience. And I cannot tell you if the moment of death is a beatific experience for all or most, a joyfully going into a bright light or what have you. I’m speaking in this post of the arrival on the death plane, where you end up after dying. Of course a violent death, especially being murdered suddenly, would put you in a darker place, at least initially. It might take some time for you to go to where your development would put you, speaking in terms of soul development, but you’d go there. Mugu wasn’t a person of either soul development or faith I should add, but he wasn’t a degenerate by any means. He had a good heart and an innocence about him. He didn’t deserve to die. It bears mentioning that it doesn’t so much matter what your outer or surface person believes or has faith in, in regards to a higher power, but what your inner being does. It’s much vaster and is what we are when we dream, and if you do a lot of experimentation with lucid dreaming, you discover there is a difference between the inner and outer being, and it’s the inner being that determines the outer and not the other way around. With those of us largely unconscious of our inner being, things take longer to manifest into the outer, any faith in a higher power the inner might have for example, which would come into play upon death, since you are on the inner plane and hence are your inner self. So you might think you’re an atheist or agnostic, but, upon dying, you find out you really aren’t, and hence you’re not as lost.
Will AI better or ruin us? Will it take over or replace us? We go to things unmistakenly horrible. At bottom we blame ourselves. What’s the highest good have to do with it? That’s the poem. It will challenge your sense of good. It will blow the world out from under your feet, and I’m just talking read it. Who owns the official compound? The Helicopters. I’m a first provider.
feature image by Dhina on the occasion of my 61th birthday this year
A tale like you wanna know. [vision of the title being introduced like a movie is on TV or at the movies, it appearing in the center of the screen, the line sounding, and this line sounding as the vision faded]
Put spiritual in there.
I’m talking to a Dumbledorf:
who are you friend who almost had him killed?
How exceedingly lovely.
I don’t blame him.
He looks different
Dombledorf.
He looks connected.
There might be. [vision of a small otter-human-like creature’s head coming up out of a small square pool of water and looking up at me and saying the line, the pool the irrigation tank where Nitish swims but not in the location it actually is]
The answer’s not complete.
Tryin’ to help.
I feel so inadequate at the task.
I just sit here and write.
We would reach in and pull sincerity out,
but I’m at a halt in myself,
and I don’t know where to begin.
I can’t capture this page.
I can only tell you what it says.
We are mountains from molehills.
I’ve done things with your memory
all the while holding sincerity in my hand.
I think I’ve lifted the curtain of existence
and shown you what’s inside.
I revealed my room.
A lot goes on there.
And the world is in my room
staring at me.
I can’t put it down.
Where would I be without you?
And I can’t get at that you.
When I meet you on the street
you’re just another person to me.
I glow with this,
hold you around
the feelings of my mind
that we may meet.
Death do us in.
I can’t champion this.
I hold you in my arms and cry
when you press too hard against me
with a sad story of yours
I’ve encountered through public media.
I don’t know how to make you go away.
I feel the group like it’s my own soul,
yet you banish me and call me names.
I don’t know what to do with this.
It hurts,
and I don’t think there are ears in your heart.
I spend myself on them.
I think we’ve gone beyond good and evil.
I think we’re just human beings here.
Can you tell me how to get along
with you
and still be myself?
I don’t know how to make you feel what I feel.
I can’t take my heart out and show it to you.
I pull words outta my heart,
and you can’t see the symbol
for the words.
I’m a dead delivery.
I’d like to smile,
having your social hand,
but you won’t give it to me.
Where do I find you
in disease?
I don’t have to wait long.
You would spit in my eye
if I came too close,
and I mean so well for you.
I was taken down.
I looked at him.
The idea
I think he’s beauty with
is feelin’ the whole.
I come to read him.
I find solace here.
I’m taken to the top of myself.
I see and understand I have depths.
I would just like him to be alive,
continue writing verse.
He means something to me.
He’s a wild space in the world yet
that hasn’t been taken out.
He does not kiss ass.
We don’t want to see him get in trouble.
He is right there in our taboos
a guiding light.
You don’t know strange men.
They will test your boundaries.
They are not a shake off.
They come to see you definitely.
These questions,
they’re for answers.
We don’t ask them just to say please.
They’re all around us now,
ardently studying who we are.
I’m a voice in that multitude.
I could get better answers.
I fought with meaning
to break it open,
and the world fell into place.
I grapple with it now.
I mean I hold it in my hands and sing to it
the poetry of the school.
This is beyond answers.
It’s just basking with you
in the warm sunshine of our being.
It’s weird to be alive.
There’s so much that shines on my nose.
You know what I mean.
I could run amuck
plucking at things,
just bein’ led by the nose.
Symbol imagery,
I mean the world with that,
and I’m stupid.
I show you myself too much,
but that’s what makes vulnerable
the strength that it is.
You trust me.
I’m happily
so much more than show business.
I reveal things to you.
They come from the sky.
I hold them in my hand and paint this page with them.
The moonlight of their starshine glows iridescent.
I spend them
in hours of verse.
It looks like we have another day.
I’m selfish.
Get out of your closet.
Tell us everything.
Gave the world a black eye did yah?
Bring your wife and kids.
Come with me now.
I sit at risk,
write a ledger of emergency.
I’m trying to show the way out.
Will you join me?
No confessions for this place please.
You don’t tell the cops what you did.
We will not ask the law to get us.
We want to overcome the law,
so it’s not rigid it’s human.
How do you know they’re not here?
They’re gonna work with him,
unfortunate souls
that need a time out.
You can do this in your living room.
Where are you?
I was just in that kitchen spot,
tryin’ to collect
all the ears that help you outta this.
Let me be your emotional man.
Let me find the way out.
Even the cigarette
a lot of the times
light up the temple.
You’re kidding me.
You would go to bat for me?
You would show me the way out?
Aren’t you a confession machine?
Wouldn’t you tell on me
and limit the ways I trust you?
You’re just not smart.
You expose yourself.
My existence
depends on me.
Can you tell me society cares?
I’m just a target.
No, no, don’t go back there.
Come out and breathe awhile
clean air.
Don’t you wanna feel good?
Some kid came daddy
and rode me monster.
I don’t understand.
This is a social dilemma.
Can we handle being people?
Where’s the living room?
Is it full of vice and TV?
What’s got you fascinated?
I don’t know how to show you this.
You gotta get outta that.
Alright,
he’s just not a problem
you understand.
Until you understand him you can’t do anything with him.
Even my problem,
we go awhile with each other.
We learn the lampoon
sticks out.
How do we stick this in chocolate?
We fold ourselves.
We learn to let go of the spoon.
We challenge ourselves
with bright horizons.
You come together
on the role you need to play
who is behind you.
Can you see an island?
Challenge yourself with more than yourself.
Study your room.
It will take you there.
It’s hitting me.
To turn around,
made a turn.
I got outta cars.
I stopped doing bullshit.
How does this happen in science?
We need to see our disease,
and then
get going.
It’s 10 a.m.
We need to apply pressure to the program.
Can you representative breathe?
You can have it,
lunch treatment.
It’s always good for you.
Are you sure you know yourself?
Do you know you’re real?
An actor,
that’s just the part that says hello,
drive basically.
It’s who you think you are.
Is the wonder at coyote?
Is the world not real?
That’s somebody to get hurt.
You need to tell them you’re sorry.
Put it on the difficulty what had me.
Buckle up,
honey any moment now you’re to get theft or hurted.
We’re just not here.
We’ll levity rehearse. [vision of three or four black and white photographs I couldn’t make out, the last one I could, one of a girl of indeterminate age in a white ballet tutu on a stage doing an exaggerated curtsy]
Don’t rob yourself with identity.
You are not you.
You’re a field in a play.
You get along you understand.
That taller You
you’ll find one day.
She doesn’t care.
She’s a dysfunctional human being.
Don’t equate her with your room.
Be a baby unto your room.
How are you?
It was more about Joe than the rest of us realize.
You’re free to discuss this.
You’re free to dance.
You are as important as the President
in the inward bowels of ourselves.
You are a process dip
into forever.
You make it happen,
the representative figure you are.
You’re changin’ lives
by ever bein’ yourself.
You’re gettin’ bigger all the time
if you reach in and find yourself
not the author of the program.
My God this world has ways in it.
It’s mind-boggling.
This should keep you busy
for a lifetime.
Okay stop
putting your identity on your name,
on that little figure you are,
and understand your importance in the scheme.
I went downstairs and I told him
play.
David actually feels like somebody,
but way was he tryin’.
Somehow this triangle has evolved
from multiple scores.
You are not who you are,
but you’re more than that.
You blindfold wisdom
and chop it in half.
I wanna explain to you all
none of this is happening.
Do you see the horror?
You see the relationship.
You’re a salt on the Void
to bring out its something.
You’re doing nothing but complaining.
Don’t complain.
We’re high animals.
We’ve got this world goin’.
It’s our livelihood.
We hate everything.
It’s not that bad.
It’s quite good actually.
We’re here,
and we’re alive.
Okay we ain’t free.
We can’t have everything.
but everything’s coming.
We just have to land first.
We can manage from here.
It’s got Goldilocks on it,
until we find the horses
that put on planet right.
Hey dude I want yah to know out your brains I’m gonna blow.
We’re just forlorn that’s all.
Winter’s comin’,
and we need to be prepared.
We’re a little nuclear holocaust here,
a little nuclear holocaust there,
but nothin’ gets us outta the way.
We retain civilization.
Any homeland,
any way of raisin’ children,
we’re gonna have to come to the dice
and end up eliminatin’ all of them.
The better way of bein’ human,
it ain’t out yet.
I’m tryin’ to tell you
what’s goin’ on,
but you’ve climate changed my answers,
and they don’t get to the public.
I’ve got a whole host of answers,
the nitty-gritty college details of existence
to help you survive.
I won’t be here.
This is a future log.
I’ll see you later.
Fascinating,
I think you just said the peace.
Could it be the color of my skin
the audience is a thimbleful?
Where’s that little Seventh Manager
welcome spectacular?
Don’t look now,
They’ve got a buffalo for yah.
The Gods must be crazy.
Mother you with this?
The stairway’s there.
You have the purple stairwell.
Turn those shoes;
let Me turn them,
the stairwell’s up.
Ride handsomely.
That’s a wrap up
with my own medicine.
Harm's End 