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.
He discovered that his Crimea life had to change.
I’m not talking about the pencil box.
We’re seein’ movies:
all eyes on the outer scene and you're in the movie.
How do I concentrate?
Remove obstacles.
Look at your life in purpose.
Don’t just stand there and stare at things.
I don’t know how to engage this.
Look at that rice on your plate.
Does it need you?
Yet it exists.
I need another metaphor.
There’s a dog in the corner.
It’s barking.
It’s baking.
It’s just lost in its own movement, you see?
You put yourself in everything you’re lookin’ at.
Can you give a free look,
free of charge?
Just look,
no questions asked.
This is less painful.
It’s not up and down.
The Source is just a remover of boundaries.
The Source won’t last long on my time.
I’m a question paper.
In this instructional video,
can we suddenly lick my nose,
make mean somethin’?
I wanna apply this to life
in the substance of my hands.
We process thought
so your hands help the world sunshine.
This even in the substance of your genitals
and how your dick holds the world when you look out upon the world.
Why the sudden graphic video?
Attention readers,
I think I got yours.
Once we go down there it’s hard to come back up, you know?
even in a poem.
I study reality whether you believe it or not.
I put divine values on everything.
Now I’m learnin’ to not bother with me.
A thousand runs will there it is.
We don’t want to invest reality with our stuff
in the substance of our see.
We want to be free in that look.
It’s like the doorbell rings,
and you’re not concerned about it.
You do not enter the picture.
Can you get that look?
It’s hard to bear/keep. [words spoken simultaneously]
There are so many things pressing on your mind.
This is thought control
at its most basic.
Can you see reality from here?
It’s got lines in it.
Crossing them means you.
A monkey sees that
swingin’ from tree to tree.
You can’t see that in your living room.
You’re not involved in yourself in reality,
unless your reality needs that look.
It’s screamin’ at yah.
Can get that look
on death row.
Reality has you by the balls,
and you see yourself too much.
This is freedom from spheres.
You have a long way to go
to freedom yourself,
oh world of my sunshine.
It’s not a substance of thought.
Your reality changes
the ground of consciousness has.
Wow, this is frightful
if you haven’t bubbled into it over time.
There’s no room for it,
with your leavin’ everything,
and you don’t know how to handle zero,
and everything’s still around you.
We’’ll get to that later.
It’s the culmination
culminated elsewhere.
This poem doesn’t go that far.
Here you just let go
of you as you stare at things.
photo by Donny
Anyway I’ve got a limited ordinary sword. [vision putting the image for poem here]
I can’t seem to see the forest for the trees.
It’s hot stuff,
because it’s got so much reality behind it,
but still there’s ordinary consciousness there.
Can you count the trees?
Can you even tell the difference
between a reality bin
and ‘can you see the trees’?
I am a lineman for the county. [heard sung by Glen Campbell, “Wichita Lineman”]
You’ve tripped up everybody—
a line you make.
Will it ever join reality?
We’d have to look at my poems awhile and see.
No one’s taking them to the picture show.
What form is that?
Can you get rid of me?
You’re not packaged reality.
I think the reader said that.
This is traditional English in the mass.
Where do all these bubbles come from?
A larger reality
that makes passes at reality
and even cowardly reality.
Much more was in conflict after Zelenskyy’s assassination.
Can we make Zelenskyy any bigger?
Planets and rallies in the corner,
the poet the symbol is a metaphor of.
This is so on your feet.
This is so operation from your mystery.
His society refuses him to speak.
You heard his poetry anyway—
lessons in accountability.
Alright throw him away for now,
and just look at bare reality.
It’s there behind the poem.
She was always ahead of the Path.
Can clear at any moment,
and she just keeps engagin’ in stuff until it does.
Do you want to see my failure in things?
It’s listed on the net.
And there it is.
Man it came to me at dawn:
I am now gonna make it to the top of the world,
with or without you. [heard sung by U2, “With or Without You”]
Do you hear my drivin’ point?
My freedom from midnight,
from all expressions of evil.
Can you hear that power?
It’s right where you least suspect it.
It’s in your living room.
Pick me up will yah?
Get into the rest of that television
mobilized for enlightenment.
Cheerio.
You can say he went to the doctor.
A lot comes out of that.
Good and clean,
those are the eyes.
Hallelujah.
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 