Tag: the stars

Starting Point

On By Donny Lee DukeIn PoetryLeave a comment 
The breathless crunch until the breathless cradle hits high air,
yoga limits above the currents,
fee-fi-fo-fum!
Gonna look forward to it.
Don’t get alarmed.
You’re a nice person.
This is not on your stool yet.
Jumping to get a head start
I’ll be arrested
being this little person in a little shell
exploding these bounds.

I don’t know where to put my see yet.
You’re not about a change of plans,
and I am an axe murderer among you
jumping in and cutting off the head of the snake.
I want a new worldview.
I want reality honored.
I want holism to rise among us.

Let me start where we hold most dear.
Let me start in the station of the room
we call square one,
right from wrong.
Are you in bed together yet?

I bleed this in the sky:
the unity of the wrongdoer
and whomever got hurt or harmed.
Can you see these naked clothes
oneness puts on us
where it touches our ship?

Pistol-whip the guy
oneness brings.
Stand on rooftops and sing.
Can you get out of your underwear
and know naked wrong?

Nobody understands me.
I want to hurt you
because I’m an answer to existence
bubblin’ up inside me
from hidden pain.
Can I toy with yours?
You suffer for it,
and I take my dick out and do it again,
arm harm.
I’ll shoot all you mother fuckers.

Who sees a child crying?
Who sees a function of the universe?
Who sees your identity with him,
and you’re also accountable,
and you’re also bear witness?

Who sees these roles?
Does the innocent child?
Does the baker and candlestick maker?
Does anybody?
Do you?

Can you count this to yourself?
Are we in the depths yet?
We have a view of harm’s end.
Deeper still.
I think we all go in there,
meet God,
the Unimaginable behind everything.

And we grasp ourselves deeper more.
Where are we?
There is no tellin’.
Take off the worlds.
Encompass more than Spirit.
Be there before God was born.*
Abide forever in motionless depths
we cannot fathom nor know,
and we found who we really are.

From the Alone in every face to the free from the Alone,
I’m controversial now.
That murderer needs ice cream.
I’m joinin’ spheres
so we can get out of darkness.

You would mistake the poet in the room
and let evil speak for us?
Conflasted guitar.
We all wear purple robes
and wipe our ass.

This is coming from the place beyond thought,
and it’s time to join darkness with its parent sun.
Not blinded by the light is the one who accepted my invitation.
We need to join the high and the low.
We need to integrate evil into our bedpan.

Can you count stars
and poke them through hell?
Yes this man is evil but he is us,
this woman a monster but she is we,
and even they are one,
the sudden genders.

Would you put me in your living room?
Thank you.
Vibrational frequencies
and a sudden way home
you are open.

Fishtails,
a sudden wasted mirror,
that’s the new password.
Confounded stars,
you don’t listen
there is adopted
the darkness at our breast
to make existence be.

People don’t understand
a light smote the darkness,
and it’s part of the picture
until we find us its hidden light.
I don’t throw anything
in your face to believe in.
Open your sudden eyes.

One second.
I’m the perishable end of the universe.
I confound you now with sudden God
right on our doorstep
immortalizing thought and sound
to bring the universe crashing down
to an epiphany of light 
never seeing darkness again.
Can you imagine that on earth?

Holistic’s charged looks corner
melody,
we don’t defeat anything.
There’s more to the sky bridge than integration.
We have to do this ourselves,
overcome darkness.
We have to change our own hands,
or this bleeds red river,
and nobody’s safe.

I’m a hope bridge,
just some wrong-ass person changed to light,
and I see the way behind.
I’m an immediacy of change
wherever I’m at,
and this is my hip corner:
I win hope every time
I climb through this music once again
and exercise muscle to see it through.

It’s strength of will overcomes darkness,
not a thing else.
Can you grasp this with your hands
you wanting to change your darkness to light?

I do not bask in separateness,
but separateness is all around me,
in every eyes I look.
This is normal human,
so accentuated in America.
We have no hope for each other.

Community means a gathering of individuals for events.
It’s not intimacy and soul room,
and Lord help you if you bless the children;
Lord help you if you cry.
Alone in separateness
we’re tryin’ to find the door
to fulfilled living.

It’s not about moral precepts,
kirtans and stage room.
We can’t be admonished to be good.
Did you open your heart to me?
Did you take risks with me?
Did you sacrifice?
Tell me to leave again I’m not sure.

I’ve let my hair down.
I feel deeply me and you.
I know our oneness inside.
I’m waiting for the behest of Spirit
to tell me what to do with you.
That’s just leave you alone again
nine times out of ten.

So here I am again
talkin’ to your backdoor,
tellin’ you amazing things,
and all’s I’ve got is in trouble
for bein’ so confoundedly real.
Let me lift my voice again
in danger
but willing to sacrifice.

This is what is looks like when you’ve opened your depths
and found humanity.
This is what it looks like when you love the world.
This is what it looks like when you’ve found God inside of you,
but you can’t yet manifest him there.
I’m about your liberation,
because I’m on mine.
There, universe.

Under these fruitless conditions,
buffing the pitch is to stream.
Switch to
takin’ utility out of my voice.
All use important
hard to get ahold of.

This is wide on earth
when Earth is in narrow times,
unconsolingly narrow.
Oh countin’ sadhana to myself,
the broad sky,
fine dog,
fine indeed.

All the worlds mix in me,
this puny self that I am
who's opened imagination’s wings
with the virility of my hands.
I’m open to thought
the very angels sing
when they’re looking beyond God
to the Unknowable,
a metaphor for I am open I am.

I cough this up
right here on you
in-between worlds.
I have a date with Heaven,
death or beyond that stair,
right here in life realized I don’t know.
Can I grasp the dualities in enlightenment?

A fancy speaker,
yes,
but I’m talkin’ about where I piss to myself,
explode in the toilet some goo,
wherever guttural I am
and reached enlightenment’s wings.

You laugh and stay sober,
but I am drunk on spring wine,
a Bacchus in revelry
a hundred miles away
from all that shoot you.
I’m settled in poise
of the gatekeeper
considers my case.
I’m a candidate for enlightenment.

I don’t know the history of the word
I have spoken to you these many years,
the poet at the drop of a hat.
I’ll meet you on the road again someday I’m sorry.
This poet takes leave of you now.
I’ve got a quest to cross.
I’ve got a quest to cost.
I’ve got a quest to conquer.
Yee-haw!

*a poetic idea from the epic poem Savitri by Sri Aurobindo

The Fate You’re Said Desperate Need

On By Donny Lee DukeIn ego activism, Poetry3 Comments
“Beavis and Beauty” by the author
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.

Can I count that?
You must love humanity
more than your own lives,
or you feel so strongly
about what’s to do right,
you will put that before your very selves.
Where do I put you?
Go down my like columns and see.
KK, lunaiswriting, DirtySiFiBuddha, The Emotional Pixel, QuanTouch, B Gourley, Tony Self, Notes & Silence, Frank Solanki, Narayan Kaudinya, Elena, Lorene M., Bogdan Dragos,
and you others,
I don’t know what to say.
Thank you.

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.

The Whole

On By Donny Lee DukeIn overhead poetry, supermindLeave a comment
photo by Donny

A poem by Donny Lee Duke

Wear Time
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.