Looking my answer. I’ve made such a rainbow. No one sees its beauty/sense. [words spoken simultaneously] It’s just another lunatic in a long game. It’s just completely ignored, except for a handful of brave souls I would like to thank. 5,4,3,2,1, I’m countin’ your love here. You have risked your lives online and put a like by my material.
Let’s count the score. I’m flabbergasted. I don’t know what I mean. I’ve counted meaning in the stars, summed up the meaning of Earth, and physically grasped Supermind, and I’ve even housed meaning soul, yet I cannot grasp in my own hands I write. I cannot write my meaning in Earth. I cannot even tarry there. I don’t know how. I don’t know where I am where I meet you with the pen.
This is a mystery to me. I am a steady stream of starlight that doesn’t leave out one iota of where my thoughts are, my hands in the business of life, my heart as it sees the world, and I can’t even gauge you my time. I write things down I hear from on high, and that is not the half of it. I run this through the strands of my life. I sit and wonder the lines I write. I pick and choose and beg and plead to give you the date of poetry.
It’s all scrambled up sometimes in the gut-fields of life. I cannot touch life. In halls of infinity I just get close to it in storms of pen. It won’t read me there. It’s just about the lie we value poets today. Do you?
I can’t tell you how much I spend on this. It’s my life’s blood. I work around everything to write. I eat and I sleep carrying muse. I’m about the end of it, how I begin each day. I don’t think Shakespeare knew a better idiot than I feel grasping you. I’m sorry please. I will arrive there one day, where a poem’s just a piece of paper I’ve handled meaning on, and I don’t handle meaning in terms of readers. I’m gettin’ there. I can see it now.
What do we do with the orange crush? You’re gonna sneak up on my meaning as I write. You think it’s about lollipops. I’m just tryin’ to grasp myself today a writer of poems on Earth’s starward prow, in her meaning lists, and where I find the Sun. I gobble down the stars, lick up the scraps. Do you know muse? I am so entertained. It’s an amusement park, and to think this is for all mankind?
Wow, we watch TV with it, put it in our pipe and smoke it no. Did that just happen to me? I’ve heard a line of muse, saw a vision, and the sign said poetry. And we grasp Earth in our specialness and want to tell the world. It’s not ready for it yet, and you can’t get there yet, show your muse. Don’t throw it away. It’s got vision’s long hold on it. It will mature brightly. You’re not showin’ it to people. You’re just listening muse. It’s got a lot to show for it.
You’re gettin’ bigger kid, lookin’ at the world some a God vision growing. You think you’re a pilot of the world? Oh please we’ve all been there, considering ourselves. We can grow so much bigger in our thoughts. We can get bigger than ourselves. We can surely get there. Do you know how far this is? I don’t think you can touch it with ego. It’s on the other side of the universe. A change of consciousness gets you there, and that’s where we measure our days, not in muse.
A change of consciousness ahead, that’s where we measure muse. Is it happening to us? Is it real? Is it there yet? Do you see the lightning? Oh wow better poetry can I Lord please write? Where I am today: I don’t think anybody hears me. You silly fool, write measured pace.
Run it through the ringer of my life and be bold, casual and free. Newman, we’ve got that ticket. Caught a moment off Gods to the camera you’re the human being. Focus any of my material? Put it on that lawn, Lucille Balls. We’re negotiating shelter. What principles create him greater need? He’s blarin’ at yah sorry about the needful.
There’s time to look at it. I’m sorry I say so much that brings out your life. Are you crazy? You give the essential details; there is no need to give them. He needs to got put in the hold. You’re listenin’ to him. Open it up Americans, because Americans with a policy —okay let’s go under— with a policy to grow anything. The only way I talk to you is throwin’ you out. [line heard sung, voice of Dolly Parton] You wanna sit your own ass on the opposite side of going off the bridge. Yep, that outta do it, environmental change.
Call your father Christmas. I can’t call anybody. I’m not allowed to write. It’s because you never get read. They’re gonna come, the people who read newspapers. I just want to look at the must angle. We need these right now, these poems called freedom, how you pronounce it, how it’s acting.
And I have a lovely single for you today, another poem, good story, man's help. And for poem’s sake, the runner, Beavis and Beauty— I’m underpinnings; I’m the laugh of the party; I’m in there a broad measure of healing. Let’s leave it up to another empty poem to give us some ground rules.
What texture is your vision?
Is it otherworldly?
Is it right there on the spot with everything?
Does it see layers?
Can it figure out God?
Do you see the reality behind reality,
see that in everything in reality?
If you only see yourself
standin’ on nothin’ but atomic molecules,
do you see anything else?
There is no beyond the universe,
nothing bigger than any conglomerate you believe in?
Do you see a beginning and an end
to the concept of forever?
Do you see the forces behind the universe
making it all happen?
Do you see yourself in that
a representative player in a chess game
with the ‘figure-it-all-out’?
Do you see meaninglessness as only existence?
Do you see the meaning of the stars?
Can you see any bigger than your little figure on earth
a humpback in immensity?
Can you see yourself in the microscope of time?
Can you see what you’re here for?
Can you see what you have to do?
Can you see the meaning of this poem?
Can you it see it plain and clear?
Can you see I’ve shown yourself beyond time?
Can you see that’s your spot in evolution,
the journey beyond anything stars made,
the journey beyond the universal envelope we’re in?
Can you see that figure here
where you’re at,
a body on earth?
You see a lot, don’t you?
Wear Light
There is an honesty here I can’t seem to capture.
There’s guttural, bold-faced reality
we don’t know how to adapt
to our meaning lives,
to our ordered square one.
We’re faced with it everyday.
We negotiate.
We stand on our head.
We dance and sing.
We don’t know what to do about it,
make it so it works
where our lives face the world.
We just stand there and gaze at it,
not knowing what to do with it.
It’s just a great big mother fucker,
too much little in our lives,
a mountain highway
that falls from grace.
It’s a little bump in the road
that threatens existence.
Now I talk to you
about what we’re doin’ here.
Can we redeem chaos?
Can we take the barrel of the Void
and fill it with God’s wine?
Can we take God’s night
and make it show the world?
Can we be what we are in knowledge
to where we are beneath ourselves?
Can we be real man?
A little piece of God
has fallen into the light.
Will it ever see again
it is God?
I heard you on the stairway hum an old familiar tune [heard sung by Bob Ayala, "Silent Witness"]
with the yoga of the world where God has been,
and we’re reachin’ there, you know?
And I’m with yah buddy.
Abdicate in Light
I seem to see myself
apart from everything,
a whole world unto myself.
I’m inside myself
watching you out there
oh world events in time.
It’s special in here.
It’s got grand in it.
It’s incredibly vast
in the fingers of my see.
I can’t make of it
the right thing to you,
the all, the everything.
Can we call that for later show?
I’m a principle list
in the summation of my see,
and I grapple with you the same.
Equal integers
on this strange planet,
we broker a see.
Incredible, isn’t it?
Is that the only way to see stars?
Can we get out of this?
I’m holdin’ it tight
in everything I do.
Can you believe me?
Oh my God I believe you.
I really, really, do.
Hear me?
We broker a universe
in the substance of ourselves.
We are so down there, you know?
We broker a universe you know.
Get my wings,
and I’m free space,
and I give all that to you.
What’s wrong with this see?
I’m not there yet,
but I’m standin’ right beside you.
Okay I’m blind.
I think you said that.
That’s time’s worth.
Harm's End 