Another life on earth,
we enter that life today.
Can you believe I’m 21?
I sit in bathtubs and smile,
holdin’ onto speech that has not come.
I’m butt naked,
and no one sees me.
I haven’t entered society yet.
I think my penis said that.
I lift my voice and sing
syllables that make sense to me,
and my truck,
my God my red truck,
it’s bigger than life.
I’m a destruction derby
all day long.
How do you expect chaos to get along?
When I pee everybody drinks it,
and I’m glad that I did.
I just shouted.
Did you hear it?
I can turn a principle 13.
Here I am in my kingpin.
Wow that’s tight.
What body part did they make?
I am really in the ditch with you,
and it’s wonderful ain’t it?
My body is on fire
with the touches of life,
and I can feel my own skin.
I go through sudden rages,
and no one even answers me for it.
You can’t say no to me.
I want to do everything.
I love the sudden grandpa.
He doesn’t practice the word no.
You know what it’s like to run free?
We will find thought soon.
I’m an image in my head
of pumpkins
waiting for the birth of thought.
That comes with language you know.
My grandpa gave me a new word today,
careful.
I fall so many times.
Okay I’m 21
months,
and I’m takin’ my time.
Who wants to be thrown to the wolves?
I’m just all out in front of everybody.
I’m Dylan.
I'm myself to please.
Tag: thought
In Day One This Is Ridiculous
I’m fighting stars.
I have no idea
I can’t do anything
unless my muse reads it to me.
You are the couch
existence sits on to write.
Still hasn’t found you
able to write anything.
Here, do this circle.
No matter what I say,
no matter what I dream,
I can’t get rid of
those institutes
that go against the grain
of society in compelling posts.
I have been left without my boy
and wondering if he’s better off without me.
I am bereft of hope,
and this is bigger than my boy.
Is the whole thing a tin can?
Is existence squeezed out of existence
by the Diamond Bearer?
Is this all a charade,
and even God himself
can’t stop cryin’?
Is there a safe harbor anywhere,
a safe place?
I’m talkin’ existence big.
Thank you I’m smart
and can see the ruse in everything,
even my own ruse.
I can’t change my consciousness to save my life,
and I know what change means.
Are the roads to Supermind
blocked by Supermind?
Is enlightenment just a scare?
What gives?
Do you know how fucked up everything is?
Do you know how big it is,
the screw in everything?
We can’t climb Mount Everest with that.
We are foiled by cliff hangers,
and we can never reach the top,
and in the history of poetry I have to explain to you symbolism.
Nothing gets out of my bag.
Do you know how tall that is?
I’m meaning’s worth,
and I keep reaching holes in my story.
I don’t understand all that is,
but I know Gods play with us,
and there really are monsters under the bed.
Can you see my daily life?
Bigger than being
it arrives from distant shores,
the very breath of being,
and it gets there all the time,
in our underwear.
I cannot move this molestation.
Are we fucked from the very first?
There’s a hole in the program.
Whatever it is that uses us for existence
is unhinged?
That’s how the story grows?
What guarantee do we have that it is safe?
Are we existence’s pall bearers?
Alright arouse my pen
are we safe from the universe?
I question everything.
In the horror of day to day living,
living
where peace finds us
and goodwill,
you can’t condemn it all to understand.
You can’t even breathe.
Do you know we eat bread together on the inside,
and I am you and you are me?
That’s the joke ain’t it,
we spit on that.
I’m goin’ somewhere,
even if I don’t believe it sometimes.
I’m tryin’.
There I am on cars,
and I carry the world around all day
a poet’s worth.
I have these great big thoughts
that ground.
I mean I’m a scout for the human race
really involved with you.
I question my own worth,
but that’s not throwin’ myself away.
I work in the engine room of humanity,
and I don’t even think you know there’s there,
for what it’s worth.
We haven’t found ourselves yet
larger than our own personal skulls,
dangnabbit.
I’m a shopping spree
of the limits of ideas.
I can do it,
get out there where no thoughts are,
and I can hold existence in my hand.
Is that a safety rope?
I’m gettin’ underneath things
not because I have to because I love you,
and we can figure you
my little boy.
I witness
the safety ground,
and I’m lookin’ for it
in the large eyes he wears,
and I could just tear my heart out, you know?
I have the living room in my hand,
and I got a shot at Earth
lead me to him.
That’s the death of a unicorn
has almost swallowed him whole,
and he don’t know how to feel right,
my little boy.
I’m comin’ upon him now.
I’m placing a wall.
I thought for a brief time
there’s no doubt about it
this is what he wants
to flower with me.
You can’t lose your job.
James, I’m tellin’ yah the truth.
You will have his little hands in yours again,
right there on bright Earth,
where the Earth makes sense.
You’re fillin’ a role in the sky.
I didn’t allow
there’s monumental change ahead.
What happened?
It’s alright—
monumental impact.
Well here’s the movie here’s the camera,
and I’ve got ‘im,
I’ve got ‘im in my pocket. [sing this and above line]
Can this be like all played out?
Wide God,
did he actually go to touch that?
No, he resurrected Tommy
another poet live on earth;
another poet rides the Earth.
A Penny for Your Thoughts

We have everything to do
with being creatures on a role planet.
Our time in space
blackens our time in thought.
I promote myself
spits in the wind.
Art and thought,
I wonder if you feel anything
derelict.
I’ve perished this bloom.
Since everybody’s here,
except any majority of people,
I might as well clear my throat.
What do I hog to you today?
I wanna pull existence out of the hat,
be right on the ground of being.
I want you to say, "that’s me."
I put it in flower pots.
I sit here all day and fight it,
our anonymous with each other.
This is stadium big.
We are all points in space
too big for our britches.
We see ourselves huge in other’s eyes.
I’m talkin’ about ourselves.
We feel and think and be
the center of any room,
so big to ourselves,
and even if we are not the reason everybody’s there,
we see reality that way.

Take us off the megalomania lists.
I’m just talkin’ what it means to be human,
or the dog in the corner,
or the ant in the windowsill,
and you know that plant think?
It’s just not corralled its self-aware.
It just does not pedal to the end of the room.
Those thoughts aren’t in motion,
but you’ve got a plant big there,
everybody in the room.
How do I toll the star-gate?
We are stuck on one world
in our rounds of thought.
We cramp existence here.
Oh my God the experiment,
would it be the same in every laboratory?
Can we count existence a cheat?
Does it handicap worlds,
universes,
or does it just stage things properly?

Do you know you’re blind, deaf, and dumb
to what you see on the inside
of the person sitting next to you,
or leaving a comment,
or submitting a poem,
or who’ve you’ve encountered on the news?
Their inner reality is blind to yours.
We have bleeding cakes
in dream and vision
and in our thought wares unawares,
but these things are disguised.
You can’t hear another person
fill reality’s room.
You only hear yourself.
Hey Jim,
let’s create a world…
Screw this.
You handicappers.
Can I explain the problems in the world?

Taste another person please.
Know they’re there
as big as you,
and if they think they’re bigger, well,
how many times does this happen
in any given day?
We have to mitigate it.
They’re just stupid that’s all,
like we all are.
I’m sorry you’re stupid too.
Do you treat everybody as you,
give them a break,
the benefit of the doubt,
or forgive them their trespasses?
You will have a million excuses
why you can’t identify with them.

Come on people please.
You’re the center of everybody’s pole,
as you imagine them looking at you,
but they put themselves there, you know?
We can get better at it,
givin’ people the credit they deserve,
givin’ people their own self
in our very own eyes.
Who’s humanity in the room?
Can a poet speak that voice?
Can we ride poetry there?
The productivity’s there
be a hurt bag
and find humanity.
And watch everybody spill the beans.
I am so very blacklisted,
I could rise to the occasion
and blossom humanity in my heart
and write it down in gifted speech,
and they would just turn and look the other way,
the stadium managers in humanity,
who’s who who block poems.
Now do you hear me
blossom humanity?
Now do you hear me blossom poems?

A bridge is the universe.
We are reality big.
It’s a major crossing.
Focus on the many aspects of this visual poem
heard while doing science.
In a round about way put it on your shoulder
I’m your friend.
It’s been a lot of Scottish in here.
I’ve done a daily
put people in the shoes with me.
He put the swim in there.
I am the render in time,
the render in space,
that’s the One I’m worth.
That farm,
that house is play,
here’s where you too,
not the separate consciousness
but the localized in space,
God of the whole evolves.
That’s the cherry blossom.
That’s where we all rise in sync.
I’m an American band I’m comin’ through your town, [sing line]
this is exactly what
the stadium room,
that cherry bloom.

Representational Think / A Blog Post

Alone for you,
state it and I’ll bring it.
That’s our duty.
I’m not a poet I’m a blog artist.
These are
thousands
is that so?
Would you gear with me
the impossibilities of paint
another form of blog?
I wanna get in your living room
the poet speaks aloud,
the blog artist
refashions the internet,
and it is as legitimate as a piece of paper
sayin’ things.
I’ve got out the bugs,
the pieces of electricity put into us
electronic think.
This is my whirl with you.
I take the possibilities of poetry
and group think
and put them right in your lap.
I’m a rebel I’m a holder.
I’m sincere with you.
God it all stinks,
and a better world is coming
in the kitchen sink.
Sylvia Plath
did not Gertrude Stein.
You know what a kitchen is thought,
and how many people sink there?
I bet you didn’t include the kitchen sink,
and I double meaning my poem
blog post.
It’s all gone to hell ain’t it?
I sit and count God on my fingers.
I can’t get at it that way.
I’ve got to get bigger than your living room,
your apocalypse see.
I’ve got to get bigger than the loss of my boy
and Auroville stinks.
I’ve got to be a bigger poet
than a blog post.
Fuck you I said.
That aughta do it.
Oh my fucking God,
I’ve got to get bigger than my pen.
I’ve got to say to you words
that open up worlds inside you
that change the world.
I’ve got to make you see for one goddamn minute
we are not animals in a bullpen.
We’re not even That.
We’re ourselves in time
with the means to change
out of this skin of loneliness and disease
that even all good people wear.
We can improve the human condition.
We can get better at ourselves.
I’m finding that in myself
as we speak.
Adopt a belief?
Change yourself
into the bigger man
when met with the opposition,
your own damn faults
or the shit storm of others.
You can be a bigger person to life’s faults.
You can be the skies
all take room in.
Do you hear my apologies?
A Shoulder in Immensity

I wanted to die.
Everybody knows how to die.
Sufferin’ from panic disorder
my only friend.
I have no comfort in anyone,
and this woe is me will not say it properly.
I cannot believe
I have no worth to anyone.
I’m just a field of crap,
and I have seen God’s eyes,
feel the world’s pain like my own.
I sit in a height of thought
where almost no footing is.
I’ve taken you there
in our thought realms unawares.
The All-Negating Absolute has me by the throat,
and even God is buried in immensity.
I cannot discover God one last time
as who we need in immensity.
3:33,
28-years-old,
I can’t give God the proper numbers.
He is too right and wrong.
Mexican,
He took my pants off and raped me at seven.
It hurt too much to tell anybody.
I was cleaved.
Why am I telling you this?
Afraid to tell anybody,
I put back action
comin’ up in the rear.
Squealin’ inside me,
they crossed death too
a courier
of the same disease,
those little tummies.
I can’t give you molten lava
and expect you to cherish me.
I can’t even say my name.
I’m a brick in a wall
that you don’t identify with,
bricks in the same wall.
Up here,
I’m a way
to photography that wall,
to hold it out open to daylight.
I’m a measure of that peace,
but you can’t come to terms with me.
I’ve sinned to much for God cares,
or I remind you of sin.
I’m an enigma with an open door.
God the carnage at Troy,
sit back everybody
and tell me what hero came home.
The canonical field of Troy.
Do it again,
I stand before you now.
Will you hear me?
We swim in oceans of blood.
Don’t underestimate
life.
There’s a moment
before you
when you can give it to the challenge
it tasks a man with,
and he must stand alone in immensity
and be the voice no one wants to hear
turning every ear on
to a future in ideas
that will save us all
come that future,
whether I’m the voice that says them or not.
See me today
sittin' with you holdin’ your hand
likewise tell me
the world has turned its back to you too.
A pencil in agony,
it’s too early to tell,
and I’m a measure of that immensity.
So brothers and sisters,
I’d help you.
Those tummies are in good hands.
You cannot electrify them like that,
put them on lurch
little boys and little girls.
A needle in a haystack
give you a tap.
Raise Supermind,
I’d be one in the world.
Get ‘im a chair
to latch from our very disease
and bring us all to peace.
You know how it works:
no ignoring you
world enigma.
My OMs are here.
My front door’s open.
Enjoy a body of ideas.
Do it again,
I’m really intercepting your thought.
We Ready This Music for Death Today

We have Nithish
shortly—
how are you?
I’m fine and you?
This very big quote discipline,
where you don’t have to.
Nobody’s taking down your posts.
You’ve reached starlight here.
Oh I don’t know.
Would you like some singers please?
Grab dumb ideas,
unless you put that in the shop,
make this beautiful,
give this a whirlwind.
We’re comin’ upon it now.
Brandin’ a microphone.
It’s got good music on it.
They will hear it.
You’re soundin’ the alarm.
Nithish is in trouble.
He needs help,
these five points.
If You Want a Triumphant
Grace is the next world’s railways.
We will be happy there.
What stark sun is this?
Sometime soon.
Your energy
is a witness to it.
You’ve combined the opposites,
and it doesn’t bother you.
Asiya attests to that.
You were soft ice cream,
and he ate it up.
You’ve got the leeway,
and you’re holdin’ down the fort.
You’ve good.
You’re learnin’ your trade.
You’re doin’ it
great football fields wide.
You’re not a son of a bitch.
Let’s bubble up some
and just sit in bed and bask awhile.
We build yellow houses.
We construct them with wood.
Then we lay them down,
over and over again.
This is our construction process
on the bails of thought.
We feel them into being.
This rides our day,
one thought after another,
day by day.
It’s ice cream.
Did somebody say favorite food?
We are housed here,
and a thought is a mop bucket,
cleaning out what’s after.
A thought is a huge thing,
all naked and wood.
It’s already occurred
before we think it out.
We go over it and over it.
We do not stop.
We never go away from this.
Bails upon bails of thought we make,
freight trains through our minds.
Let go of this,
and you’ll be in thin wood.
You’ll cake on yourself.
It’s where the balls are
that we retrieve into Silent Mind.
Now here’s the house
God lives,
you see the Self in.
It’s awesomely deep,
wrapped around with nothingness,
where the engines of the universe play.
You are a copter upon yourself,
brooding wings of infinity.
It lasts an hour or a day,
until it turns off no more.
I arrive at thought
the master of the plan.
I think upon myself
in large ways.
I go there:
I don’t handle thought
for a little while.
But Silent Mind don’t ride my days.
I’ve stumbled upon it
a time or two.
We have to be clear we were formin’ enlightenment.
Have you ever had that thought?
Grapple with it now.
Do you know it’s there
what we arrive to next
in our identity plan?
Hey kids this is not enlightenment.
We’re becoming something you see,
and we need Silent Mind to get there,
a formless identity
we shoulder to Supermind,
the God inside.
An overhead kingdom sits there,
and this is the fullness of ourself,
God identity,
at this stage of the game.
You can imagine more.
So where does Silence put us?
Right slap dab in the middle of it.
And then?
We plant our feet on planet Earth,
and Supermind comes down to meet us
at the ascending pole
of our effort.
Then we’re cosmic complete,
bigger than the cosmos,
not in size in weight.
We are the springboards of the universe.
The universe comes from us.
I’ve been there once.
I’m not just makin’ up plans.
Did I have to say all this
to get your head straight
on Silence?
I don’t think you understand me.
I’m bleeding concepts in the room,
like cosmic means somethin’.
Where do you go on Silence?
A round chair,
and so many people just sit there.
Who wants to go higher?
Bliss is satisfied.
Do you want to go higher?
Ramana Maharshi didn’t.
We all do eventually.
When you learn about it it’s there,
a belief castle.
Before that no one’s ever heard about it.
I’m taking you there,
balloons overhead,
Somethin’s up there you know.
It’s the origin of the universe.
Said it all.
Don’t forget your ambition for thought.
You wanna get into the Silence.
You wanna dip your head into the Silence.
Catch it,
you’re gonna hit
the ground of the universe
a hat infinity.
Now that red apple pierces your skull
vibratory nature.
You hum big church
all around your brow.
It’s so comfortable there and smooth.
No I with its busy notions
disturbs that room,
not a thought one.
You’re reside in silence.
This is awesomely big.
You can’t figure it out
from here.
It’s totally other being
inside a body here on Earth.
You last awhile,
and then the cosmos lapses into itself.
You’re there yet?
You will be once.
You’ll get there soon.
It’s every death journey’s hand.
We take off the ego you know
and get down to science.
It’s what we do there.
It comes along
to take us to Heaven and beyond,
and you think it’s a stranger?
We’ve sauced this out so many times,
death, upon death, upon death.
We’re there now
underneath it all.
It’s raw, basic awareness,
cosmic size.
Now why have I shown this to you?
You think AI will get you there?
Where do we put Silence on?
In our own room,
a listen to ourself,
no bowls of media present.
Do you know how precious this is,
guided by your own mind?
It’s stage one.
Come on mountain let’s go.
Now in the vibration room
each vibration opens
a little central veeter
that respond directly to sunlight.
Okay, okay, okay,
look I get it.
Almost reaction,
because I’m slaying.
You don’t know this stuff.
It looks easy,
if you vie for it,
but let’s face it this is tops
that a human could do,
your golden Mars,
but they lost this
and ruined their civilization.
How hard it is,
you got nothin’ harder in human.
To know directly,
what do we see?
Obviously it’s not videos.
It’s contemplation’s circle,
there in your room,
when you’re filmin’ God.
Where do we begin?
The first photo please.
A beggar
down and out on reality’s pole.
You see from there
what God looks like,
and He would not be tall and kind.
He would be a braggart in His room.
We don’t stop the vision there.
That man don’t see straight.
He has eyes of sufferin’.
Lift God up from there.
Are you okay with what He does to people?
Are you okay with this vice?
I couldn’t back up to you God.
I couldn’t stand in His way.
The significance
of beggars breathes awhile.
We can’t get at it there.
We can’t even try.
Let’s beanpole reality,
and it gets bigger all the time.
Let’s do something about it.
Let’s see God there
addressing Himself.
Is that okay?
We’ll be building a teenager.
We’re gonna get him all soft in his room
to carry the day.
We’re gonna wean him some,
from do this for him do that,
so he can carry the divine.
We will be gentle with him
and put him on his own attention,
where he needs to be
more than computers handles
and where the cellphone rides.
This is not ice cream and cake.
We will pill him
with just enough books
to get his writing going.
He’s a poet of the divine,
gets whole poems
from the inner voice.
We were surprised as he was.
Now we have a responsibility
to see this through.
My consciousness opened his.
We’re everlastin’.
That means we give this boy a good shot
to grace him with infinity
and keep his eyes on God,
not the stuff in his room.
I’m right there by ‘im,
holdin’ his hand.
A Green Beret on duty,
I’m a sergeant sometimes,
but I’m not mean.
I can certainly improve.
Now let’s stand down
the poem I’m giving you.
It means somethin’
to the order of the day.
God bless you.
Even True Meaning Rated Art
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]
In the Arena of This World
feature image by Mithun
Is that the dynamic?
We choir now.
He’s so little he expands your room.
Settled in myself to eat,
that’s the flavor of sadhana,
and we enhance.
It’s an inner journey.
We go for it.
It’s an inner cleaving.
We humble ourselves and do it.
It rebounds.
It grabs yah.
It’s an opening
you do when you’re hungry.
You’re hungry for God’s touch. [“Open to God’s touch” heard during darshan in the Mother’s room, and then the muse changed it as I walked down the stairs so it fit this poem that was coming as I waited for the room darshan and went through the line in and out of her room, the most of this verse, from the eat line, coming in that quiet activity on her death day]
This is the lifeline.
This is sustenance.
Try to prevent a fracture in sadhana,
a more sustained doing might do so.
I’m sure I belong there.
You’re here.
I don’t think we take the vital out of our room.
The right vital comes out.
The mystic of the flute lives on
on ocean’s rainbow.
[vision of an Indian-style key, the long variety, on the step of a concrete, light blue flight of stairs about two thirds up]
A key,
it’s hard to report
their bouncing effect.
You throw them away.
You don’t know how to use them.
You pour beer over them,
vital indulgences.
Now one comes.
Open its window.
Be there in the sky for it
all active on time.
[four visions, two side by side then the other two the same, of strange, colorful scenes I could not make out they happened so fast]
We interrupt your dream venture
to put you in touch with yourself.
You don’t know yourself.
I think you use a sadhana watch,
and they won’t fool you.
They tell it like it is.
You’re out to lunch,
and that other one’s over there
not climbing the street right.
You need each other to focus,
a small sum of human beings,
no more than a handful.
You fit.
You share similar interests.
You live in close proximity.
You can’t digital do this
as a group
come together.
Get real with one another,
nice and kind and polite,
not tryin’ to pass up one another,
not tryin’ to be mean.
[vision of Lisa, my deceased Rottweiler, curled up against an urban wall in a dog ball but her head up and looking at me, sadly]
Titties suck my dear.
You don’t get out of them what you need.
They’re not your bread and butter.
They test and try you,
as humans do.
Romantic love is hard to motion here.
I think you’re friends,
deeply connected,
why you come together,
how you come together.
You’ll recognize this in dreams.
You move on one another
in the friendship relationship of a dream.
You’re bonded.
It’s great to be together.
This gets deeper.
You family one another.
Respect this group.
Leaving it’s a soul’s choice.
It’s not based on petty arguments.
You will go to school together
learnin’ sadhana.
All your dreams come together in the group.
Everyday you share them,
work out meaning,
time.
This grows.
You do this all the time.
The inner relationship’s happenin’.
Now you go together
to sadhana central.
You want to do sadhana all the time.
A minute don’t go by without it.
It’s your mainstay.
It’s your life’s blood.
It’s what’s you’re doin’ in life.
You keep at it.
You keep goin’.
A small circle/handful of people [words spoken simultaneously]
do nothing else.
This is the basis of life.
It’s everywhere apparent.
It’s how you concentrate.
It’s there all the time,
always concentrating.
It gathers you.
It puts you in touch with yourself
so you see what you’re doin’.
No tellin’ where you are with yourself.
It could be at the beach.
It could be in metallurgy.
You could be climbin’ buildins,
playin’ in the street or in front of a crowd.
You’re always concentratin’
whatever you do.
The mind’s the game.
Now what does that what you see in your mind carry,
a present moment swirl?
You do there
concentrate.
Where do you put the bubble?
On higher than yourself.
You’re tryin’ to reach divine.
It’s the major of your focus,
connection,
contact.
You know the divine’s right there in front of you.
Keep the world relatin’ in that key,
and everything you do will be fine.
That’s the secret of sadhana.
I’m just ruined today.
Nobody knows me under.
I deal out cards
of bright shiny poems.
It’s just a reader’s poem with no readers.
Bad material I guess,
or awful writing.
My room is a way station and a promise.
I’ll hit the right note one day.
Sadhana science,
how do I show this to you?
Where do I go to show this to you?
It’s a concentration in your head
you stay clean for.
If I told you about the troubles.
I still go to college.
I got spirits in my head and they won’t go. [heard sung by The Strumbellas, “Spirits”]
You know I’m hearin’ muse.
This is a dictated poem.
You’re all fired up.
Wanna say somethin’.
It’s about the city of concentration.
I think I’m learnin’ to keep the mind quiet
not on external things,
and that time is optimized for sadhana.
These are the thoughts think about,
and you go from there,
put your own larger list together.
What is infinity?
What’s the nature of the universe?
Does God care?
What will lift my room?
Do I get larger than time?
Can I feel the feelings of another
through brands of consciousness?
What is the thought that stops thought?
Am I showin’ you how to think?
You’re up there
where thought meets the sky,
your husband.
Do you hear that?
We treasure this present moment
our thought taking us skyward,
and we are passive to that reach.
You put the perspective on that.
To those lonesome memories,
you’re naked to the eternal now.
Feel them that way.
Now we’ll repellant.
Thought gets in the way.
It’s not what you wanna do all the time.
You want to be clear certain purpose.
That’s a way of hold your mind
no words
or images.
Smoking the cigarette of thought,
chewing it out
like a stick of gum,
these are brands you wear.
They spend and they disease.
You don’t have to think.
I’m learnin’ not to.
It’s so much clearer in there.
When I go to sleep
I’m not a crybaby.
Monster in those movies.
I handle sleep.
I’m waking up on the hub of dreams.
I try to retrieve them,
or I’m writing a poem,
and it continues.
I spend my nights this way,
in a wakeup mode going back to sleep.
I get about six hours
all told,
seven
on this night and that.
My wakeup periods are long.
Like I say I’m writing muse
as the night bells ring,
or I’m layin’ there
where quiet meets my mind,
pullin’ on the length of dream.
That’s a sadhana sleep.
It gets you in touch with the day.
That’s been the content of the night,
if you know how to read your dreams.
Turn around and face tomorrow
your dreams carry you too,
and they show you yesterday
to know what’s goin’ on.
There’s just so much to dream,
but it arms you for the day.
And now you’re ready
to step out into the world
a sadhana-go-round.
Keep it simple,
keep it clean,
your honeydew in the world.
Behaviors lead to sadhana,
or they refuse it.
You’re a sadhana keeper.
Always remember that.
It won’t go away.
Like it can never reject you.
I don’t care how reprobate you are,
sadhana’s there for you.
It will carry you through the storm.
It will clean out your act.
You’ll get better because of it.
Just keep goin’.
Let it fill your room.
Don’t shy away from it
because you think it’s judging you.
It is always there to pick up.
It understands your needs
and will help you fill them properly.
It’s the intention that counts,
the attitude.
Keeping your mind quiet on the divine,
that’s your smelling salts.
It’s how you save your life.
If you’re an ordinary sucker,
you’ll have a harder time.
You gotta get naked.
You gotta take off all those clothes,
get down to your primal need
to fill your life with God.
One episode
of you are so filled,
just one time and
take this book with you for the rest of your life,
and you will do sadhana,
can’t help but to;
it’s in your nature now.
Everybody wants to know the nature of progress.
You love people,
identify with everything.
You’re not a grouch or a scrooge.
You’re good to be with,
not demanding or mean.
You listen to people.
It’s not all about you.
I don’t think you make people feel uncomfortable,
but you do challenge them
by the obvious depth you live.
You call to people,
not with your eyes your shoes.
That means you don’t mess with them.
You tend to prefer quiet
comin’ to the head,
not hours and hours of music
or all this environmental stimuli.
You like nature,
raw and clean.
Walks accompany your day,
walks through nature
where you can find it.
An animal can climb aboard.
You’re a big bucket of love
that knows how to pour itself.
This is what we know of love:
rape and murder,
and love’s right there with yah.
No one took the sign off you need to be loved.
All this spiritual growth sees that.
You love everybody you come into contact with.
You know what you love them for:
love heals things,
makes people better.
I don’t think you can fake this very much.
Spend some time with someone and see.
Alright spiritual advanced person,
let me count your love,
not anything else.
I wanna see yah love.
I think the whole point
of our spiritual shoes,
we get to know love.
A great big sadhana bring that out.
I’m a terrible husband—
this is the spiritual call.
I think sometimes it walks on your soul.
I don’t know how to explain this to you.
You’d think all would be right with the world.
You’re torn asunder.
You’re made to do things you don’t like.
They gravity of the situation just eats you alive.
You obey the call,
like I’m doin’ now.
You picked the wrong time
to blast a hole in my shoes.
I’m a servitor of divine will.
I’m servin’ everybody not sinnin’,
and here I am expose myself
to your wrath.
You’re not a noble person.
I’ve seen what you do to people.
You don’t love them atall.
So my head’s on the chopping block
the reality poem,
and here I am
giving you my bread
for the umpteenth time.
You’d think I’d had enough by now.
Anyway here it is,
a poem where you can do yourself
and make the world ring,
even if no one hears it,
and they just think the worst of you.
They’re not snow that’s obvious.
He seems to have a sadhana
that doesn’t get any kickback in return.
He doesn’t get validated
except by his team.
He is treated like everybody’s pariah.
His sadhana circle listens to him,
and others are few and far between.
He’s a real human being.
He got okay
on the wheels/wings of his sadhana. [words spoken simultaneously]
You have it now.
Reader
this is not brag or boast about.
This is the path to divine consciousness
and younger,
and you’re gonna need a little younger.
Open it.
A lot depends on the soul change.
When you’re young,
and you soul mother
in hospital,
we’re goin’ in some shockin’ of yours.
Well he quoted us all trying to see her.
You look like you losing what did you lose?
The ability to stay awake in dream.
You can’t do that,
let’s tend silly here.
It’s not your job to fight the Minotaur.
That your job,
trigger lucidity
captain this ship.
God dog does that look handsome!
Some fancy’s got you hooked.
You’re standing on the ability
to move on dreams.
Just get out of here.
Take your consciousness
and try it out.
You can go up and in from there,
up to the higher consciousness,
in to the soul.
Try it out.
See how far you get.
Obstacles determine pathway,
and you see what’s limiting you.
You really can get there from here.
Dream is a doorway
where you get started
to open the inner consciousness,
and there your sadhana rides
in its most visible form.
You need this
to survive.
Burn out early
if this is just all in your head.
The inner consciousness will take you there
to all the meanings you have missed,
to your direction of travel,
and you’ll see the divines involved with you
and get into soul things.
It’s your guidebook.
It’s your lamp.
Your teachers talk to you through there.
It’s a daily dose of miracle,
and it moves your sadhana along
a fresh start everyday.
This is the major element most sadhanas miss,
and we’re callin’ on yours
in league with the world.
I’m sure you got questions.
Begin.
Alright Donny there’s a truth to tell.
You’re bein’ spying on inside.
The thoughts get yah.
Oh she’s memorable wearin’ them thoughts.
All these thoughts on God culminate in that one.
When the bough breaks, [heard sung, nursery rhyme]
and you enter Silent Mind.
These are the memories to feel now,
the character
of enlightenment,
regardless of your pain inside,
of the happenstance of chance,
the resistance futile.
Go for it baby.
Keep the light goin’.
Don’t go to sleep.
Don’t her give up on that sadhana.
You have a world to change.
Say the same here.
We’ve got our heads out for miracles.
That’s a world line.
Can you show this to us sweetheart?
I’ll be back in about five minutes.
I’ve got tools for you.
I’m gonna use them first,
grow up Nithish.
It’s the army in the game,
and I’m a former Green Beret sergeant to show them to yah.
Not so hard on the kid,
but he’s gonna lesson.
There’s just too much soft flesh there
video game mode.
Cheerio.
This blog is not just to put my stuff on.
My blog is clear your highway.
Stop defending yourself.
What?
Skin spots are really easy to spot.
You have to come over here
so I can help you.
One by one they ran away from my house.
Can’t figure out.
I had given you really good soul stuff.
Her whole house was zoom zoom zoom,
and you’ve got a literature there tomorrow
to bring to temple.
Come in.








