Grab a nice haircut these rolling pins. They know how to handle the vital in certain situations, the ones where they meet the real world. Do you call them cough suppressants? It’s not about denial anything. They lift up the world. They love it into being. Did you know creation is starlight? They are on the forefront of that. They don’t waste time. Even sleep they use to their advantage. They are not kingpins. They have a guru master guides them every day where their inner being meets the world. It’s inner contact crisp and clean. It’s the inner consciousness guide, and they soul with the world.
How big are their thoughts? They carry Earth. This is every day. Civilization, well they feel inside, like they have evolved with man through every Kris Kringle, amazed we no longer live in caves and now live in modernity. They are the house of humankind. They’re on the whereabouts of man. They hold man tight, are all over its feeling joining God there. They intercede for man in the harshness of his journey. This is wide open fire, and they can identify with the rule and the snake, wanting what’s best for the peoples of the Earth, wanting freedom to be and to choose the greatness of each individual. They’re seeing what they need to do to change and be the staircase of man, the help in his endeavor to have compassion for all and bully no one.
This is their strange keeper, these heroes of the thought of man. They reach out for the growth of everybody, even those we despise and call evil. This is their special operation, but they can confront evil in the world and make no bones about it. They can see behind the scenes and reveal evil in its place. You will not find them safe here. They expose evil. Alright I’ll send it to yah. You are very selfish. I don’t know it’s been fusing. Leave this to yourself; get married and have kids; do not stand up for these divine fools; throw them in the clink with your fumbles with love.
I don’t know it has any power, the system we wear in shoes to put the name of the Lord on. This world here will eat you alive, but I’m game. I give God my all. I don’t throw him in the dirt. Come on, get goin’. I’ve heard some living out here? We go to school. Do you call your name Mrs. Kravitz? He put no. Well I am about your bed. I’m at the end of your feet. I test the ground of your heart. We’ll give it to yah, a safe haven. It goes through the community; it goes through the communication in honor to meet the jump rope.
I’ve really crafted it the way it is says the community ring. All the raccoons are pretty. Please stay in the car Luna. She just had a… There’s something over there. There’s something else. She knows that you’re protecting her. Luna in this exploratory relationship do business as members of the community. Can you come over here? You’re a mountain clan. Will you please deal our dog right? She never leaves our side. No fenced in in the backyard for her. No putting her on some chain. She is our honey child. Let her walk among you. She’s walkin’ to her next life human, and you can you grasp that with a dog? Their soul rang out you’ll move ahead letting me be by my masters. Do you see the relationship? Good.
I’m just leavin’ for my own house in the woods. Participate in your wholesome community. Alright I will not roar my own special status, but will a poet be admitted? And in his verse is a new society for a better world. Can I be a poet among you challenging the way we do things? This gets me in trouble, why I’m here. Douglas and I are searching goals here. We’re looking for a better land. That okay?
Days of unity, all this is a unity project, and we’re not just separate neighbors, nor alone isolated individuals in a world. We are everything, and everything is us. We are part of oneness’ clan. We cultivate that help. We live that example a sacrifice doin’ it, not a free-for-all, not a give everything away, a balanced, measured diet of oneness that knows our strengths and weaknesses and our own importance to the group. We are learning oneness as we go along, and great that field play.
Fifteen seconds ago forces of power moved us from our home, the power that destroys lives. I was writing poetry on the beach. It angered the local kingpins. They threw away the Constitution and got rid of me. We fled in haste. We are refugees. Can you put that into your hat and smoke it? Can you consider us with kid gloves? Thank you kindly. It is our effort to be kind too. We’re in the woods, the place we wanna be, the place we feel asked for us, if you can see correspondence in roadways. This is exciting for us. This is wonderful. This is joy in the Lord. Everpresent, he is our refuge. He is our one at hand.
We’re forgetting how huge he is with you too. It’s just isolated stupidities in the greatness of the Lord. We bask in him and turn our trucks towards him. Hallelujah you do too, and we are thankful for that. God is great. God is wonderful. God is our sudden being in the fullness of time, and all of you, yes we see your indwelling divinity. We see the One that you are. We see mystery behind your eyes that gathers all existence unto itself. Sometimes we have to pinch ourselves to find it, but we endeavor never to slap you forgetting it.
How does a poet ride evil then? How does a poet point out a needed change and not neglect his power, her force? With no hate, and the whole poem will tell you what it’s about. I’ve been here, to the Lord’s altar, and I heard what to say, and meditate on what I have written. It doesn’t go lightly my Lord. Have a good night. Have a beautiful day. Have a glorious day.
We go out. We go down. These weapons in our hands, this is why we last well with each other if our weapons are not hurting other people. Om to find One, I slept in Om. I did not just shoot somebody with no regard to their safety. I challenged them to put goodness on their pathways, to champion the thought of love, to broker peace between us.
Can you get that right? Not everybody will be pleased. Some will say you’re wrong. How do we change then, if it’s not put before us? What is nonviolence in speaking? Sometimes you have to will to change. Sometimes you have to go the distance to give someone a mirror to look at to honor the gateway to peace. Is that size up? It’s not puttin’ anyone down in mean speech. It’s not striking out in anger or blind reaction. It wants someone to see themselves and make change. With some it is impossible, but you follow the Spirit’s lead.
I’m here, I’m here to help you remember you have these tigers, and you know you never change. The impossible seem the odds. Then the Lord comes to you a gifted angel, holds your hand, looks into your eyes. The startling he is there will wake up the most slumbering sleeper, will knock your fucking socks off, will make you cry in submission to the mercy he offers you. I am that man; I am that woman, complete now in the genders I wear, hallelujah, and uh, birth control, no bad comes from my hands no more. Both dammit sacrifice for the good of all.
How else can you describe killing a part of yourself that was as natural to you as rain? Herein lies the crux of the matter: in every single part of ourselves, in every single fiber, speaking of the human being in all its parts, mountains can go wrong. You can be defeated by yourself, murdered by your own breezeway, killed by your cells. Pity we have for bodily and mental challenges. We have none for the heart when it goes awry. We have none for the hands that obey an errant heart. We punish those people, get rid of them, but we fail here.
Love thy neighbor no exceptions, and a cancer patient, someone with down syndrome, has the wheels of a disease that also someone lost in behaviors we abhor has in the house of their being. Freewill’s at stake, and it’s the issue here, but not confronted with this disease how can you hate and judge my friend? Animal ways breed animal man, and when you kill someone for doing wrong or slice them with punishment’s scalpel, you’ve carried out the wrong they’ve done. By the witness of the crowd and with its consent we bury humanity here. We tear asunder our house. Separate the people you need to separate if their behavior’s eminent, but treat them as lost children, not monsters and vile things.
Dr. George Washington Carver was a miracle among you. The Earth spoke to him softly of healing need, but he was a negro, when that word was in fashion, when Jim Crow ruled his land, when he was hated and looked down upon for being black. What a choice God chose for this man. He lived up to his day. He stood tall and strong. He heard the plants speak, the clay and flowers around him. He heard the inner voice, saw visions of these things, and we prized him for it. Some had prejudice to overcome, the strongest of their day. Pardon me ma’am. Pardon me sir. I am of this vehicle made. You are hearin’ my voices speak in a miracle of love.
I am the thought of this day to bring healing and remedy in our moral world, in the disease that afflicts the heart and hands. Are you prejudice and blind? It’s the same today as it was yesterday in how we perceive our fellow man. We hate him for being this thing on earth he didn’t choose. The Earth made him that way, the elements of man. Now I bring great healing upon the Earth for those with eyes that see. Inner voice led me to it and the vision of God. I walk with Mr. Creator like Dr. Carver, my walk just as deep in intensity. I differ in skin color and mode of religion, and I work with different elements. I am here for the morality of man. Is that too terrible today? Is that wrong? Is that okay?
They’re at Conservative National Forest, and it’s real lively here, in a time capsule. People go about their business here in their own brand of music. If Saint Francis of Assisi is their patron saint, they abhor animals in their court, and they’re holding court with the Timeless, not allowing him inside. This is grand design. It’s rigid here and far flung, but leeway is making a living. Let the flowers speak! I haven’t heard this yet, and they’re borrowing on marked time. Conscious group process is a recovery. It’s not on those lines yet, but I do think they see it. I just don’t know if they’ll let it in.
Our first name was Alex. Their stories fit in line, oh my beautiful sisters from Columbia. This went on. You said it so. Judith introduced us to community. Strong lady. I brought her back to her impersonal witness, and these are healing powers she has. AJ, who chops wood here and keeps the fire, phony especially he doesn’t bother to imitate. He’s a lot more younger than his 77 years. Can we count on him? Like you can the blue ocean, and you need fish, but time of course is our regard. Where have I gone with these people? See the example of love that they give right off the bat. The basis of love has changed I think in the wider community. Continue. I’ll get if for you with even the nobodies and me’s, with every single community member. Now there’s your introduction to love. They teeter there, and it happens to snow. A peaceful community lines these shores.
Tell ‘em we’re ready pop the firecrackers. Old standard apply, I’m tryin’ to show you truth. You blew it. All the way here: I don’t know the lows can I shoot you Florida ask our tailgate, conservative Floridians. I’m a writer of verse. When we arrived in your community, we relied on chance to save us. You were too green for this, and I went right into a political meeting about our predicament: opposing Trump— the very first day I arrived. What a sight for sore eyes. No, no, you can’t talk here; we have an agenda. And we’d just escaped Florida by the skin of our teeth. I guess Siva did not give a damn, and we’re open to more proposals.
I’m hopin’ we don’t have to go through indoctrination to sit at the ashram and volunteer. Leaking out of this box glad to be uncomfortable with somethin’ that calls itself the same name but has a different teacher. Can I even say I’m a disciple of Sri Aurobindo? Thirty years. I’m not a wasted duck. Now see my mantra within your mind shy Ram beyond be said and see I’m doin’ sadhana. Can I go to your church? Alright this is satsang. People been holdin’ their stories behind this. Losin’ all your glory, there you go, I think now we can sing.
So I’ve landed. So I’ve come here from a long ways. Do you know how to dance lower than you are? This is my piece of cake here. I just want them to know I love, and I’m a handy man around the house. Poetry’s a stick in the mud. It’s not their wax paper. It’s not their hole in the ground either. I think those things are old peoples’ photos, who grafted this community from a peace on earth vigil. Poetry is of the Spirit. Ya’ll have fun I was reluctant to say. Five thousand and something, I’ve reached a breakthrough there in poetry. I’m not the only one. Thanks and cough syrup, you’re hollerin’ in community. Just keep the garbage squared away and you’ll be fine, and probably don’t eat the squirrels. Poetry will buttonhole later. Who wants to eat? I guess I’ll be their good cook, but I don’t sprout my beans first. Oh well.
Okay the finals is not typicals of the the community here, world community. How do we change ourselves into an image of the indwelling Lord? How do we be our soul on the surface of ourselves? How do we become spiritually enlightened? Do we know the difference between being enlightened and being up on ourselves? What is the soul change, and where is our divinity? Is that the indwelling soul, or the secret, hidden God overhead the soul leads us to? Where do we find God as these hapless creatures on earth, the God of the whole that can bring us to our summit selves and cherish our lives with us as we are now and be that constant companion
that we look to always? Where is he our Lord, and what about a mother’s might, this sweetness and safety of her breasts, and we are little ones there, really, really comfortable with she is our whole world? Do you hear me Stephen? Do you hear me world?
I’m game are you? I’m sittin’ on the sofa right here in God. A change of nature I have made, not enlightened, and I am not yet my divinity, but the soul has power to express itself in verse alive in God. Even if it’s just to the woods my voices ring, I’ve found the Earth here, and I treasure it in my hands. Oh my dear brother, sweet sister, will you?
“Oh My Look at that Ole Dog” by the author. Luna on Fort Myers Beach. She made it.
If you are reading this poem on a phone, note that the integrity of the lines, a major feature of poetry, is not displayed properly. Many if not most get cut short because of the small screen.
Congress can come to my bank. I have ideas representational spiraling towards the universe. I can show you yourself, your muffin. I’m not in a handbag. I’m not parkin’ cars. I look at the world and smile, because I know its price. It’s huge big, but I don’t get lost in it. I see the telltale signs of behind. I can gauge the world through there. The Spirit has the show. Behind the world does.
It’s not communicable. You can’t see it with normal eyes that see vision. It’s not in your visual field. It’s nowhere apparent. How do I know it’s there? I can descry it in spiritual vision. I see the substance of things. I know that huge engines lie in the fabric of the wood. I can see the frontal of things land on it.
I’m a thought proper. Pregnant I stand and sing, and I offend people doing so. It’s cost me my livelihood. I got fired. I’m in trouble today. I see it in spiritual vision. All around me there’s trees involved with my pen. I’ve really written some things alarming to the public. They shoulder my hero. They’re here and there.
Mainly what I show you is how to change from one thing into another, from a blind man into one who sees. I show you how to bring good out of bad, how to change your very nature. Poem after poem has landed on the world’s docket. I don’t get known there. Do you know the price of change? It sits on your life extractin’ good. It’s costly. You have to pay in sacrifice. The world takes its toll. People are very small about it. Forgiveness and understanding, no one gives them to yah. You will be persecuted for good, even if your sins aren’t listed to the world, to the people in front of you.
You make power uneasy. They can’t believe you’re there. The people that hold the world in its little stations mostly are mean and jewel, and it’s fake jewelry. They’re petty people. They have an arm on society that robs it of its worth, but they will tell you differently. We’re used to this, the hypocrisy at the top. It’s all for show, but here I’m gettin’ in those little wears, like a community organizer or some little boss.
Where do you find good that’s good to everyone, equal pay even to the riffraff? Is there a worldwide heart there? Is there someone that embraces humanity, has goodwill at all times, treats people kindly even if they’re homeless and destitute, sacrifices for people not worthy of it, loves them too?
I’m not talkin’ about the perfect man or woman. I mean they really try to treats others as themselves, regardless of the other. They’re fair people to everyone. It’s me, it’s me you say. Glad to meet yah. Continue readin’.
You threaten people then, challenge their sense of self, will be very unwelcome at their parties by your own sense of self. You can’t shoot the breeze and not feel the weight of other people and their meaningfulness to you. You’re flabbergasted by it. It’s not a little show. You examine yourself continually for false pride and vanity, for things that don’t match love, and when people hurt you, you feel that sting, but you try to get your head around their price. You study the world and their place in it to see what world needs arise. If you act, it’s not with malice. Empathizing with them you understand they need a reckoning. Their world play has gotten too far in selfish ends. They harm.
Are you there my friend in being good even when it hurts, in bein’ inside yourself an open vessel to feel other people? Is that person in front of you the weight of the world? Do you take delight in dogs, and can you feel a tree there the livingness of everything? Do you laugh with the wind filled with the caprice of its consciousness, identifying even with the forces of nature? There’s more of being then being shows, and we’ve come to the invisible, but would we find you there identifying with the wind and sea? Great Scott! you’re a tall human being.
The organic meanness of the machine, that’s not your pride. You’re a tall order. You do penance for people. You never leave someone out in the cold. You’re understanding and kind, forceful when you have to be, but not mean and cruel. You are so on yourself to set things right. Can I get across to you your underwear? You have left lust behind. It’s not what you do eat people. The roles of sex are no longer in your play. You’ve matured out of that.
How can I count this? It’s my livin’ mood. It’s my every day. This is the price you pay for love, and you’re not ready for it I know, the death of your own genital squeeze play, but we can still have children. Youth gives birth to our young, old enough to know the consequences and take on that responsibility where society thinks, where society helps them grow where society grows. We are no longer individuals on our own, and we get along with each other. Individuals have room to grow and be themselves, the freedom of their nature that lets society grow.
I’m a social revolutionary. I see the beyond, and I carry my dogs there. The world for me is paper thin. I see the behind, and I love it there. My dog just messed. Did you see that? Can a poet have a sense of humor? No, I don’t like butts and smelly asses. I’m walkin’ on miracles, this world set in place, all its motion, a storybook Earth.
I’m tryin’ to tell yah the price of the world in seeing, how you handle the world in moments of gloom, in cries of despair. You look up into your largeness. You look out there into your springtime. You handle the world as it eats you, but you’re too much for the world, and so it spits you out, and you stare at it an equal integer. It can’t get at you in your lists.
We are a bubble inside an immensity beyond time, tiny as the wind blows, a drop in an ocean of continuous being. We are one aggrandizing look in everybody’s lookingness. Worlds upon worlds tell this show. All-Containing seeing rides us all. We are a looking glass into infinity, and we only see ourselves on finite Earth. Ever being grows to its larger glass, and can you count that?
I’m on the high seas of the bottomless lookingness. I see larger being than ours messing with us, setting us straight, and I can see bigger than them beyond this universe of stars into the larger looking glass that encompasses ours. I’ve sat up there once looking down on Earth. Miracle on miracle bridges who we are, who put us into this play, the larger than time’s being we are. So many seconds started this show, a poet here in your lap singin’ the ends of time, singin’ for all its worth.
I’m bangin’ on time. I’m giving extra credit. I know the hunt in time. It’s bigger than stars. I can grapple the world there, just this old codger who walks his dog and means nothin’ to nobody savin’ a few. It’s a laugh really, the breath of my vision and how little you see me. I’m showin’ you inside. These are the concepts of my thoughts. These are the concepts of my dreams. I habitat these thoughts all day. Lookin’ at the world through a dog’s eyes, I can gather life. It’s insane really I’m not the one insane.
Let’s go back to lunch, shall we, that the stars in the sky tell us we’re wrong. There are bigger fields than Earth, and I’m countin’ stars in my diary and know there’s beyond them. I know you’re safe, even if you get tarred and feathered, crucified on some cross. Nothing can touch the Spirit. The soul is free from everything, and it laughs that gentle laughs that knows the score, but is sure hurts down here doesn’t it, to be a beggar at time’s gates just wantin’ to be loved?
That’s the shit of it, and the soul takes these shocks and turns them into gold, but we suffer the because of it because we are flesh here not soul. The soul is deep. The soul is long, and it might let you get killed before it shows itself, and what poor bugger can take comfort in soul when his trials and tribulations are happenin’? This is the juxtaposition do Earth we bury here, where we mean something to each other. It’s a lamp unto our feet, ain’t it?
I show you the price of a laugh. Let’s make this work. The price of a fall, that’s too expensive for us. We are here on Planet Earth wantin’ to survive. Will it happen? It’s certainly meant to. We have to get out of our kingpin. We have to get out of our nursery. We tarry there. We rob there. We’re stadium laughter. Do you know how many eyes see us? Do you know how many eyes care?
Let’s get this down to a science, hey, everybody’s a hero on Planet Earth. You can do it I know you can, be there bigger than the world. Are you just gonna stand there and do it, practice burnin’ people? Will you see my face? I didn’t get away with it. I shoulder more than society’s prison. I shoulder the pain of the world. Unhand me I’m free? No, I’m not enlightened. Good luck, that’s in my hand, and I may reach freedom yet. Is that the answer to tomorrow? Yes and soul release. We interrupt this broadcast, and it looks like we broadcast now.
Everything bad happens, not everything good. Do we just spit at each other? I’ve got radio silence. You might kill your mistakes. Look at this. Why would you want me silent? Maybe tomorrow lip service you’ll give. They’re not hiring. I want to go to Mound Key. I just put a belt on and I make that hirin’ the world. Where is my pay? I warned you. Oh look, the hammer, it will get all over your fur. Men home it’s comin’. Everyone, I’ve got a tale to tell, and it shows.
Well it’s time to go to sleep. A poem has not made you ready. (vision of Grace Beagle sitting pretty and looking at me like in a life-size picture frame, two or three poses) Taking a picture, you know how dogs to that. Keepin’ your fingers crossed, we’ll get them here too, Grace and Hannah and Bruno. Now be off with you. I got a train to catch. That ole boy put his foot on the pedal and headed towards them yards. We are not in hospital beds.
Grace and Hannah, photo by DouglasBruno, photo by the author
Everyone feels themselves the maker of things. Alone in our body’s cells, we do a branded work. We have the secret knowledge inside, and we know the meanings of things. We just can’t express itself to men. We live in our longings a perpetual keeper unable to handle stuff, but ours is the mooring to the base of life. We know no one above us in this, and even ones that we worship, they’ve just validated ourselves. We can keep them. No one else can.
I am the secret front of time. The world calls my name human. I am a draft everyone wears in their rise to fame. I can’t control fate, and the talent show, I can’t grate my time against it, but I am bigger than lost rooms, or, if I am famous, for your information, I’ve been put there by all eyes on me, and the knife I am to everyone I don’t have to please, it’s sought within, and I believe mine eyes hold all true. I’m good to everyone even if I’m not good to some. I am the eyes of life and time in my living room.
Surprise, surprise, surprise, you are not the march of the universe, or anything tall and big. You are a worm’s crawl to our Sublime, and you would spit on the Sublime now, if you saw it. You would not hold it right. You would not even know it’s there in your tangible real.
I fight this battle every day, sometimes on a horse, sometimes in the slime of morose doubt. I can count my sins all day long. I can sit and bash myself upon the head for being such an eager worm. Here’s the kitten: I sit in the arms of the divine all day. My doubt is not to its existence. I have knowledge firmly there. I see the Larger like I take breaths, but is this a whirlpool, a jolly roger’s madness ride, that has no issue for a starstruck human being?
I see the Larger like I count my face, and it’s suspicious to me. It doesn’t count humans. Oh my goodness the proxies’ wear. Everything’s for the larger good, the whole. Individuals get trampled in the stampede, and we have to stand this, because it’s all a dream, even our suffering, and we are nothing more than sinless souls putting on masks of flesh for lifetime wears. The flesh doesn’t count. The soul does.
Great Department Green, is my soul in my beating heart, the exclamation point of tears in my eyes I fight back left and right? How heavy is this pain a moral wear, how real, fresh, and alive, and yet it’s cut asunder by ideas, by momentary experiences I’ve won and lost, by a look there a breath there on God’s heights, like you throw bones to dogs?
Feel me I’m real, the character, the mask, You’ve donned. I cannot last like this, a plaything upon Your pittance. I need Your honest answer to my living pain, or crush me now and don’t look down at me again (uh-gayn). The pittance, the role and show, how do we handle it?
Time is larger than our showroom. More power to yah God. What’s man doing there with his head blown off? It inspired an amazing journey. It manufactured an attempt to find another rule than suffering, point out joy as my hunting rifle. It’s my must now. It’s where I lay my head, oh time machine, I go. It’s important that’s a carpet, not a bed of nails.
Do you hear me breathe? I’m countin’ the breaths of all of us, and I am sin, hold me down?
This poem began where Death went off his office, and it revealed. It’s beginning to baby us, political allies. About exit, what does it reveal today? We’re not safe in our own shoes. Death is the beginning of misery.
I kill myself from the beginning I bet. It’s a written, a written piece of paper. Now I left coins of me, shekels, splashes of time, in your jukebox. They’re horrible. It didn’t work. I could not write my name in the sky.
Just how do you do? I’m small pittens for small fare, smaller than that. I just do your head in, don’t I? Come talk to me I’m worth? And you don’t. [The sound of laughter here] You’re the wrong people. You’re not wearin’ soul shoes.
This is message for the times today. We did love. We’ve lost some trying to get it in there now. What in the hell’s a matter? It’s the go car looking for enlightenment brown. Make alright boy that’s it cut the track. Just need to think your love can speak. [sing line] Freedom caring, just need to think. Some of it has been miracles in the room. [sing line] One at a shot have a world education. [sing line] He’s called a creature of a dying world job, little until tea tomorrow. You’re getting good at it. Leadership is worship. Bake down, ask about your soul technology. Become immortal.
Before my life was over, I want to find what my life was in. I’m normally ask that, if I haven’t given up on life. Would you lay with me [sing line to tune of song of that name] all over this answer? It’s not a field of stone. It holds us all in tight keeping, but it’s not the angel in the room. This is pre-God ladies and gentlemen. Can you hacksaw that?
I’m getting deep into society’s ways. I’ve just found Spirit, the first covering of the Unknown. It’s how we have being. It’s where we come from. A great big Spirit wears everything. It fashions God. We’re getting into preexistence ladies and gentlemen, when only the Formless arise. Can you imagine nothing as its sailboat?
What’s the rule of this ship? Don’t fashion nothing. Expand into global waters. Make existence be to pronounce Itself. Spirit is the first form it wear, that makes for us souls. It’s aligned with God, but it’s not God. It’s the soul, the basic who we are.
You can touch that ship in intimate contact, feel it ride the wherewithal of your day. It can take over and rubs your belly with sweetness, and you are charged for awhile with everything’s honey. You see the soul in things.
How can you do this in a concentration camp, in the worst hell on earth? That’s the soul of the ages in bare bones reality giving you eyes to see. Overcoming physical pain is one thing. Watching cruelty mark the Earth, devour babies, and we’ve gotten down to the purpose of soul: don’t let it in, the despair.
The soul can get you out of this, even in the midst of it's bear. We are a sublime soul range, God gave us Savitri reads, and this is down on earth. We tarry there. The soul is completely out of this picture, the whole fortnight of evil takes our ship. The soul is not responsible for sin. It loads up our day with the honor we give one another for being the Itself to Itself, and we feel sweetness everywhere and principles of joy.
This can break in on us in the hell we have made of our lives, or what others have made us suffer. It can even break the dull routine of the days. It can be in ordinary and lift on you extraordinary in every mode you wear. There’s no end to the soul’s keeping. It’s the basic ground of everything. It’s goodness rides the high seas. It has so much feeling for everyone. A plant is to it existence and little dogs so lovingly looked upon. It can hold matter in its hand, and you don’t want to bruise that ship either. You’re careful with everything. You have respect for the Earth. You are never out of love, even when you see society’s nigger, the people we are allowed to hate.
I can’t fashion this for you. The soul is a mystery you know, but I can tell you how to do it, reach for soul, let it in. You grasp it all the time in bridges you wear. It’s the most common thing in life, coming upon your feelings, and you feel so alive with everything, and you want no harm done to the aliveness in front of you. You feel the pain of the Earth, the sorrow, disguised as your own or your close neighbor’s, and you grasp your loved ones to yourself and be good to them. You feel ranges of Spirit right there in your baked pie.
A moment of eternity has looked in on you, and you feel sublime with the Earth. You hold them with your children, these feelings, or your best friend’s face, and you love to pet your dog with them like you’re petting moon time. You want to protect everything don’t you? And you put down your enmity for a minute.
Can we range there, take those feelings to the sky? We can sure get along there, if we try. There’s more to soul science you know, but I’m trying to get you started on thin ice. We don’t know how to handle the world. It ruins our day, even when we’re drinkin’ with it, but we are not left out of soul. It envelopes everything, and when existence can be anything, the soul is there first a witness, then a power to bring the soul round to things, and you just have to grasp it in what I’m saying now.
Is everything okay? Is everything alright? I wear society like a sleeve, and they do not worth me in it, not even my own kin. I am left apart by everybody. Few call my name. I’m treated well by Douglas and a few others. My child cannot call my name, and though he is living I cannot see him. I live in isolation, bearing pain. I look at the specter of death. I’m in danger of society’s wrath. It sneezes on me.
Have you ever seen the sun and the mysteries of existence? I’ve pulled them out of my pocket. I’m a crash course in reality. I write this to you now in poetry that has never been seen before, and I’m a black bag. Society won’t read me. It spits my name out, never calls it. I want you to recognize this pavilion. I want my boy back and safe, and I want all of you to be safe.
How can one man’s love change the world? If it opens up the eyes of God it can. It can bring us to soul. I rabbit there and show you soul moments, a day or an hour, I can see because I wear. It’s close to enlightenment’s springs, and I refuse this honesty just as much, feeling my pain, my isolation and the loss of my boy, who tells me he’s walking in a void, in secret messages, and he’s lost on himself no light he can see.
I bear these days not as a guerrilla. I return again and again to the house of soul, what I’m lifting up for you to see in a certain light that give us release from pain, and I love you there, even though you give me the cold shoulder, again.
Rushing through a path of ambulance, I participate. I don’t promote my own story. I hand it to you because it’s how I found out things. I’d rather not tell it as honestly as I do. This does not do me good. It gets me ignored, not a poet in good standing, and no one will promote my work, except a fellow poet in Israel I can count on to call my name.
Just at the home of mankind, I’ll have the day at some point, and I’m in your picture of what everything means. For now I want to pass ships. I’m on a mission to get past my own boat. Come get me please. You’ll like what you see.
The Void fashions thought, gives it the clothes you wear. We bury the world there. We’re all over each other in drowning reality, and each one of us wears woe is me clothes tryin’ to describe our reality to another, even if we don’t feel that way. It’s the default among us. Just read some poetry and see. It won’t lift you to the skies, poetry club after poetry club. Do you know how bottomless this is?
I don’t know where to end this. By Dylan’s side. I don’t think he’s learned to be sad yet as his disposition. He’s two, and I wear him on my sleeves today his minder, really protecting his freedom, no anger, no swats, and no is not a word I cram down his throat. I like his natural freedom and his natural state of joy.
Where does it come from? I can sit in the same tub and not be happy. He’s an expert at this. He knows where the joy is, the merger inside of him with his environment. I don’t think we’ve reached a separate Dylan yet all in his own clothes. The joy is phenomenal. He just screamed and looked at me, and I gave a pirate’s laugh. I like the sound of joy.
His frank littleness operates on my moods, and I can taste his taste with the world. You have to hold on there’s stickers there. The world will grab you, and all falls down. You have to be careful there, and everything has eyes you know, even the water bucket. How amazing this is. I coo and talk to those eyes a speech pre-language wears. Identified with Dylan with a poet’s laugh, I’m in his jolly roger don’t you see?
Now what happens when we’re three? Identity with the world please, it no longer storms our room. I could be seven, and joy becomes something monumental we chase the dogs with. It’s not homegrown anymore. It’s not our natural state. We’ve put on man.
I’m on poet’s wings, and I’m identified with what’s in front of me. You can’t do this writing about your make up. It’s how we discover the world, reaching poet wings reaching the starlight, where God sees everything glow. It put us together in ancient times, grabbed civilization out from the paws of nature, a poet’s look guide, and we’re born you and me so much’d civilized clothes, and a poet born language don’t you know. It came from the skies added to our feet down below.
Where’s all this goin’? And we write it down in speech, great big letters of world maker’s art that came in vision or dream, and we fountain a language with it. A poet saw that. I’m not here to hear you scream, and kill all these damn flies. That’s the muscle we wear. The poet has the architect of civilization we grasp here. You don’t know from on high. You don’t know these robes. I’m speechless. Yeah, you would be. Well I be damned.
The chaos of the toddler, it writes your poem. They don’t know dirty, and they have no sense of mistake. They don’t know danger. A grandpa’s life is dangerous, and he gave that toddler reach. It’s not playin’ with the same cars of a society toolkit. They meditate together on meaning. The boy feels the rush. It’s living. I can’t draw your papers from here, but I’m showin’ yah how we’re made. I can’t explain it to yah so that you wear the same cars, but I accelerate growth.
That’s not dangnabbit, or any role of violation. It’s where that guy sees the stars. Are you with me on this? For a nice mental health, where it counts, it’s in that toddler child. You don’t want to falter there. They’re bright and shiny objects from the universe, and they just love to play. They don’t need a hard time.
Just organize them the storybook of the universe, and they mean something more than I am tired, irritate me one more time and I’ll slap you, or I’m horny please me. Don’t be confused with their gatherin’. There’s a child there with their tall eyes bein’ the Earth for you, and every touch counts, and they love to be touched and cuddled. They wear your fingers for the rest of their lives, your harsh tone, your can’t take it anymore. All of humanity needs to see this.
Listen, it’s not possible today is it? This is too cutting edge. This is too model. Don’t take their joy away. Let them be rising and kind and kids by you’re conducing a sacrifice for their wellbeing. Can’t you see this Paul when you get home from work, and you’re tired, and momma there in the kitchen, that meal’s better than that child? And we can reverse the roles and do the same thing or join them. What would daycare say? Keep them busy no. Let them occupy themselves with whatever, and watch them there. We want them to organize themselves, no just obey masters and do what they’re told.
Can you see my thought’s skies? We don’t want a subservient human being. We want society to challenge the world. We want a greater world bear. We are on earth for no other thing. How could you argue with yourself? Beginning right now, make that toddler’s world better by your lovin’ hands and freeze, no shouting, no hitting, no inappropriate hands. Goo Goo and Ga Ga, they just inherited the world, and it was nice to them. Oh man see this.
Make a child’s day. Make every moment count. Can yah? Will yah? It’s growin’ up to be you. A vehicle burned by society’s ways, a damaged vessel, do you really wanna put that on that kid? Let them play in the dirt and mud. They’re not going to murder themselves, hurt society with it. Aren’t you right there to prevent mouthfuls and rocks up their nose? They’re testin’ time, where all the dirt goes.
Aren’t you glad you see that, their special put together? It makes for good kids, lettin’ them be the little animals they are when they’re two, no inhibitions, not feedbacks. They’re beautiful little tigers, and we give that little creature kindness and consideration in every mood they wear. We just don’t let them tear up the ship, or express their violence towards other people and puppy dogs, and we teach them to be kind to ourselves with the kindness we give them, and who would let a toddler hurt himself?
You gotta be swift and fast, and you’re gonna make mistakes. The little monster’ll test your patience, the little cuddly bear. You’re farmin’, know that, and you determinin’ that child’s life. A great big heavy thing in life, we shape our children by our touch and mood, and the most important time’s before three, monumental she wrote. I’m infinity’s cards, and I’ve just showed you the spasm of life, where it most counts: hey baby, oh you new thing. Can you dig it?
It’s the living fetal position for animals, the punishment chair. Stop this motion. Order the pens to our insight. I was thinking first of Dylan. I didn’t chatter my teeth there. My comfort, his parade, he got the money’s worth. I can’t spell this out for you. It’s long on time. What do we do with him, pull his pants down and shoot ‘im, arrange him in the corner, blister his butt? Let’s call him kings, and you’re his subject most of the time. Can you get that?
Wow he’s free to make decisions that don’t harm him. You’re followin’ him around a puppy dog. Did I just say something mean? It is exhausting, but you’re right there as he explores the world. Too wild to keep, my parents put a dog there, highly efficient at watching me. Outside he followed me everywhere. I brought some of the memories back. Can you believe he talked? Used all the sounds a dog makes to convey meaning. Boy get away from there. You stop that behavior at once. It was a pleading sound with authority.
Buckshot was extraordinary, a big dog from army parents, half Shepard half Collie. He came from a military base. Can you see it? We’ve been doin’ it all along in our homes and in our backyards, but we can make it an official duty of mankind, train dogs to watch kids. The little one’s too exhausting to keep up with. They need special care, and a good dog can give it.
Am I meaning here? Do you know how much this helps the child? The love of a dog opens up society to them in the ways of love, and if it’s a lone child, they pay attention to another person in their play. Let’s put a handle on their selfishness shall we? That big dog can protect itself and is a sense on the world we don’t. The consciousness shares between a dog and child, that’s the link right there, but I’m gettin’ far ahead of you. You don’t know you do this with Dog. We are more than their masters, and they are our children.
Buckshot grows. Would you believe he’d take my hand in his mouth and lead me back to the house if I passed the invisible barriers that said too far? There was a dog there on his way to human. You don’t know that’s what dogs are doing with us. In the evolution of soul they become man after climbing the latter of Dog.
What did you think they were doing with us? I put dogs in the throne room too, kids with fur and tail and adorable ears. There was this hole in evolution, and we created Dog to fill it when we were ready in soul, when we became men and women firm enough on the ground to fill it. At the role of civilization, and then came Dog.
I’ve gotten angry again, and I just shut it off and move on, apologizin’ profusely to that kid. How is this learned? The heart is open to soul. The heart is open to that kid. Profound love dwells there that can heal anything. Careful with that soul. I guess I’m a witness that you let out. I’m not an icicle. I am love everywhere found, deep feelings of release into the sincerity of the moment.
You are love there watch your nose, and you obey your nose no longer. You’re not led by the nose anywhere. You’re compelled to soul choices, complete understanding not offended by anything, and where you find love you find the wisdom to use it to correct that child, the strong love that knows its pants that can say no to things that harm and make that child know he caused it without those feelings of guilt that block remorse.
You surface the soul you know. It’s what takes over as you’re doin’ it, a sadhana out of ego. It heals. It wears a crown. It makes everything right. That’s what we’re doin’ here, being soul, a manual for the new millennia, how to be safe with our kids in diapers and into the terrible twos, and they’re comin’ unto themselves threes and fours. We are expensive with the toddler, lavish on them our heartfelt attention, and that’s the history of science that makes a better world.
We need a role model, and I’ve lifted up a poem for you that comes from higher sources, the role of a poet, a special use of language wear, and poetry that I have, I’ve returned us to our origins, where the poet revealed to us the world and gave us strong ideas how to live in it. It be compatible with what the world needs. I can’t account for its audience, but here take another poem.
We walked out a miracle. We walked out back. Did yah listen? The applications are enormous. I am in any thought you use to harbor children. A family of pioneers asks a lot about a new generation. Well I’ve got that orbit. I’m asking me this I’m asking you: what’s conducting God in our filthy experiment? The eyes of the child.
The pictures, we’re gonna keep looking, and another FMG, it was on the film net. Would you cause me to live? I’ve gone further than I am, and I don’t feel badly about it. Broadly I read you. You know Stoppa was running. They didn’t know what they were doing. This was the parade. I’m tellin’ yah I’m sorry. I'm not fighting wars with children anymore. Can you get a load of that redemption? Be hostile where joy was, their glasses whole birthplace humanity right on time. Good afternoon.
The change in consciousness ahead, get me my improvement I’ve penned these days. Why would I be running from it? See a bullock cart, I can’t get out of this view. Got some dirt, it springs into anxiety. I put it on the lawn and deal with it. I don’t know exactly when it happened, the line of consciousness drawn. I’m a senior builder. Stopness, seriously wellbeing, birth has a lot more to do with it than nature. Is that so? I gave a poem that talks about relief. I’m not gonna pull it to my pants down. Were you like a screwdriver yet, you’re used? Can I answer that question?
I got soul, a flare, when the authorities are so big. We have dark roots. We’re not gonna terrorize anybody. This is the poem that tell you where it’s at, the soul we find in the machine. Can you stomach this long road? Reach for middle ground, and no soul will show for you. Life isn’t easy on my mark, get set, and my personal arraignment will show you the hallway and the entrance room. Exploding tigers, eh? Exploding entranceways. Exploding tests.
Your soul returns in a blissful way. [sing line] I can’t find my wife. I can’t help it. I’m just get lost in things. What’s the status on my boy? He tries to finish. One second, make me some time. I will operate on my parents. I will come right straight to you.
This is Dylan. You look like Jesus. What are you reading? I will be right there growin’ up. I will give you forms and things, all your books. No one pets me. I would love to guard against that.
The evolution of a single day, we minimize it, blocked by life’s stuff. We can’t see the carton in the room we hold evolutionary purpose. We split in two, just bang our heads against the wall, grab society by the horns and be pulled apart by it.
We are pulled apart by society, so many tin cans in the room. How do we detach from all this stuff? Bring society into the room keepin’ your knees in it, and you’re just gonna get lost in it. I have an opera beyond society, behind every little thing in the world. It’s where I eat lunch. You hear it in these stanzas.
Okay I’ve got a grow room, and the entanglements abide. You hear it every day. I’ve got a little boy named Nithish taken from me, and I complain about my poetry: reader get me more. And I’m worried about my dogs dyin’, the lack of respect I get from my landlord, and the soup I had lunch with yesterday. These are entanglements.
Auroville doesn’t need me, does it? And no one in Auroville will give me a sticker and put my name on their greeting card, at all. I remain isolated, and they publish my poem every week in their newspaper. I write poems there too. The yoga will not even give me the time of day, the yoga of human unity and life on earth growin’ oneness wings.
Okay what is soul purpose? Can an entanglement say that? I’m watchin’ evolution here. It’s sees me, but I think it’s turned the other way. I’m bummed out about my entanglement. These are vital moods the life force carries all day long. I can’t get rid of ‘em. It’s a spell from places deep.
Alright there’s a chester drawer, also from places deep. It’s the soul in the room, behind and apart from everything. Yes, yes sing to Auroville today a guiding light, write poems to the yoga, and hold that boy when I tell yah to, and let go of your status among men. I’m the soul detach worth, and I’ve got mountains of soul change ahead. You hear that music now.
It’s a blister on Easter. It’s hard to come about. It’s the soul detach on things, and you hear it now, and it feels good, doesn’t it? How do you cultivate this nigger? By puttin’ soul change ahead, recognizin’ your time of sleep guides towards that when you wake up from dream.
Don’t just stay in your room. Have you ever put your thoughts in another as they walk by? What thoughts are they havin’? And you’re tryin’ to wear their skin. You feel them there. And pick out some sore spot upon the Earth, and put your consciousness there like you can’t get bread too, and your children are dyin’, and you feel this with your tears. Can you get there?
You’re openin’ up soul in the room, and you keep doin’ it with everyone you meet, especially those close to you, and this is an inner job. They just know you’re sweet and kind and tryin’ to figure them out. You keep your hand on that lever, everybody won’t even know you’re doin’ it. You know how selfish people are. I don’t know if there are any returns on this. I haven’t gotten any yet. People don’t see it. They see themselves, and you’re givin’ them what they’re worth. That’s hard. Entanglement number four, fuck you.
Are we all here a hero’s worth? I think not. We’re just involved with ourselves, and we sum it up for loved ones, satellite I’s of our solar star. The soul change gets us to see our room differently. It’s a battleground in there to separate the wheat from the chaff, and you don’t let no one down.
You learn what’s expensive in your room and costs you your evolution, what’s expensive in there to hold you up every time. Can you see this notion? It’s a soul room, where peace on earth comes from in the larger sphere. Can you gauge this?
I’ve just given yah a formula for world change, and all you that know how, will you dance with me? It’s a formula you give your room that opens up the world to us. It doesn’t come in a tin can. Is that so hard to believe? You try to wear their skin thought today.
Open the door. You try to wear their thought today. Takin’ a bath belly up while we ride that tone, we really reach in our heads and get it done, findin’ the light in everybody and brinin’ evolution to the forefront detachin’ ourselves from all these cares gettin’ to the soul need of each one and bein’ big there. ¿Comprende?
Making’ the soul of sacrifice, can you pull a soul play in that room? It’s a shame you brought your brush, charmin’ hair Nithish. He’s not a pumpkin no more cause he’s got the credit card to bring you in lean with him, and he can’t say your name right. A child forgets his toys if they get lost, and should he perchance see you, they kid cashes in taking advantage, and you’re left swingin’ on a short rope. It’s okay he loves you. Just get away from him in thought and wrappin’ around him all the time. Let the soul take over. No problem connecting him to you there’s a soul range ahead. Capisce?
To the soul on earth need help, and you see the need, and you parachute in. I’m not tellin’ you to leave him alone. All's worth on him and he needs to see yours, before you run out of windows for him. A moment in my futile pen all's say. No one holds the true purpose of mankind. One major soul note I have given you at my own expense, and now I have to live with this. They had a nice chair there buddy. Learn to look though. Take pictures of him again it’s bright and shiny future says Earth must do.
I did yet the big big pen to help me find him. It’s just my name’s not on his notebook anymore, and what can you do with that? What’s that music? He really felt it, and he really wanted our hope back.
I’ve got a lot of folding chairs here, and they’re supposed to sit in ‘em, like in 24 hours, on a moment’s notice. I grab my dick and double click, and no one comes along (I’m murderin’ my pen), except a thoughtful read of you my good friend right now. Oh gosh gee I’m sorry, I can’t pull it out, the poem that says it all, and you do see me tryin’. You are the world to me. Oh, sing with me, sing for the year. Sing for the laughter, and sing for the tear. [sing two above lines turn of “Dream On”]
The slightest word crowd, you can really show the writing on the wall. A few minutes ago you had us to the tune of “Dream On”. If it doesn’t work out for you, dream on, but we don't doubt that boy woke up.
A video-photo-poem, my own design, on its material level this is a promotional video for the Auroville Dog Shelter in Auroville, India. It’s the aim of this video art to take that material into the spiritual realms and beyond. To send donations to the shelter, go to this link: http://www.aurovilledogshelter.com/
They spill your blood. They dust you off to kill you more. They know just when to sooth you and just when to bite. They eat you alive, and then laugh about it like they care for you, or you’re just not doin’ right. They lead you by the hand to amazing vistas of rose petals, a dire love, and then they cut your heart out in the very place they called you love.
This is diabolical. This is oh so sweet. You have some semblance there of hey hello it’s me; I am your love, remember? And those memories kill you because they’re insanely not there to make any more with you. You can’t touch that. You can only cry, helpless heaving cries that startle up your mind to insanity’s fallout. This touches you. This laughs at you. This enters your neck.
You are not there with them, that little boy you love, and he has lost his comfort zone, I mean really his whole life, to live in a shed with grey bones to sleep on and parents that finally get the chance to rub his nose in it: all these years for preferring me. Do you get the picture?
They torture me with that, the anarchs of pain, and his pain rends my breast and makes me want to kill myself because I want to shoot myself for his pain. What do I do?
I just sit here and tell you. No one will listen. We’re a racial mix, and I’m in a foreign land, and all’s people see is a red flag. They don’t know what they’re lookin’ at, and so they hurt us more, thinking we’ve sinned together as man and wife. The boy’s 12. You stupid people. That’s not the relationship.
We have love from the fountain of soul. I’m afraid this is as close as you can get, two people, and we’re suffering for that now. It’s there we love. It’s there we hope. It’s there we stand and face each other. You don’t mind. You only see yourself.
He’s forgotten about me. They try to tell me that. Oh he’s happy move on. But then I meet him in dream and vision, or talk to him on the phone, a forbidden enterprise he has to sneak to do, and I’ve found him again the lover of my life, where he was when they didn’t see him.
Kids aren’t all on pain. They’re not geared for that. Their mask just allows the public to see hey I’m alright; look I play and laugh and sing, but I’m not there you know; I’m inside with the pain, and you know I can’t hide it always, nor even very much.
So we’ve unlocked these doors, the Furies that punish us for so deep a love. What type of love is this? It's deep-seated parental feelings more than anything else. Can you get your head around that? It’s boy love without the sex. It’s a man’s embrace. It helped hold the world together in ancient times. I’m his tutor. I’m his love. I’m his friend, but most of all I hold his hand. I’m the one who guides him through life, and he is a spiritual arrangement. I do not love him if I abuse him, and that love starts my day, where I hold this little boy. There is no abuse here. I do not cut his teeth on silver diamonds.
Can a kid handle this? This has been humanity’s beef all along: you can’t take children and put ‘em in a box and make them obey there, protecting them from the world by protecting them from themselves. This is an ancient relationship I tell you, and it’s not bad, evil, or mean. It’s as wholesome as the night sky, as helpful as a forest moon. You can read us in volumes of poetry, and the boy has videos, and he’ll tell you about himself.
We have something new for the Earth, and integral healing plan that meets nature right where the Earth is, so the soul can express itself. We’re expressing soul. Do you hear that?
We don’t know how to arrive. We weren’t separated by parental concern. I’ve been his erastes for six years, a full on parental relationship. He mostly stayed with me for these half dozen years, but I was at his birth. He came into my life at one and a half, as this little tyke I helped take care of, and we have been doing this since he was three: I was a parent in the room.
Now you can take this and cut it up. accuse us of pederasty, but what you got here is two people in love, whatever the form, and it’s right relationship. I test you to go and see. We’ve left public record, starting since when he was three.
Okay crowd, we let the parents arrange this, with their hate and their spite and their mean, because they are jealous of our relationship? And are at this very moment forcing themselves on the boy, and he doesn’t want that. He wants to be home with me.
I’ve laid it all out on the table, told you the story. What do you want, social change, where kids meet bigger people, or do you want the kids to remain the same and do not change the nature of man, so we can become better people and save the world? I’m lookin’ you in the eye. Engage our social media, the boy’s and I. We will change the world.
a typical image found on channeling sites, source unknown
A poem by Donny Lee Duke
But in your routine,
what is the foundation of the whole thing?
It’s that the technology?
Can you point to God?
What’s happenin’
in your soul’s process with God?
Can you get your soul to speak?
Why always this:
you channel beings
of a particular order?
Can you grasp the inner voice,
hear that on the inside that your record?
Definitely more personal,
it’s got you at heart,
a wide variety of vision.
You’re hearin’ it now.
Now let me speak some
about capital.
You are not Nathaniel Hawthorne.
I hear no substance in your words.
Do you know the power of divine revelation?
It knocks you off your feet,
shakes you up,
makes you confront yourself,
and is really, really, poetic, you know?
No convulsions needed.
We can actually open a gateway
in people’s lives
to hope and possibility.
Wounded by something.
Now let’s go to the doctor,
and the young body
can open now.
Closed it,
closed it earlier,
channeling the soda pop.
I’m sorry,
that is not your next of kin.
I wouldn’t even call it divine.
I’m not gonna be used
by things that destroy
you just tell yourself.
Go get the basics
a little deep man:
we’ve whooped it up on stage.
The eve of creation—
you’ve hit the run around
with a big referral
to some starfish.
It’s got ears,
your soul buddy.
You have to ask it for help
fervently,
ardently.
Your soul rises to the surface
over many lifetimes.
I think you are where it speaks.
I offer you solace
in the form of understanding.
Come with me.
Stupid me,
I am not a perfected master,
not in Realization yet.
I’m sorry I sound so heavy,
so blow your tops off,
so glory in the hole.
I get in trouble
tryin’ to help.
People spit on me
the big bad outcast.
Oh have I sinned,
and so no one lets me speak.
Will you?
I wrote this poem, or my muse did rather, which also serves to introduce the poem I’m currently disseminating, “Tonight on Television”, to a person who channels, Asil Toksal, after watching a video on YouTube where he channels, or says he’s channeling, the archangel Ariel. The video here. I watched the whole video and left this poem both as a comment after it and in an email sent to his site.
(this poem was written as comment on the blog Helena, The Nationalist Voice for the post “Mass School Shooting, a Mental Health Common Denomenator”. Click here to see the entire conversation)
The seated with identified and hate
confuse multiple speakers.
We think we got a land problem.
They just don’t know the story from inside.
We let it in
all these ill wills not ours,
a big bad packaged hate.
It has moved us from afar.
I know what to do.
Let’s kill all these people.
And we do.
There it is the ugly truth of the matter
fired upon the scene.
You think it’s American.
How little countries move among you,
as if our consciousness is organized by political boundaries.
That’s the joke:
you are a nationalistic speaker.
You are so much more than that.
Humanity is everyone.
Now I think that’s got a ride,
the joy of being human.
Our consciousness is all over the place.
You see it in your smile.
We are so much more than hate.
We are bigger than the stars.
You ever seen this in your living room?
We’ve got every welfare at heart.
We genuinely do care about one another.
That’s that process of soul.
It’s what we’re here to study.
That’s what brings us to God,
but don’t forget
it’s a cruise ship,
and every human being’s on board,
and that’s just the human side.
We care about animals.
Oh the soul they watch too
you see.
Harm's End 