Selfie a few days before my 65th birthday, which is today
What is a hands-on prayer? Full of spiritual philosophy, do this, don’t do that, I won’t bring you to lunch. I won’t even put my arse on the toilet.
Oh you offended seekers read on. Can I hold God in my hands the stadium of this moment, in the guttural process be? I don’t know where we begin.
I can’t find my soul the laughable, lovable life I’m having. All love is taken from me by death and weary, and I can’t find joy on the sun. I can’t even find life.
I have split my mind with silence ineffable, sat for a moment in that nameless place beyond Earth’s ego.
I have even climbed the heavens in a seconds’ ride to the space beyond stars and sat in my true self.
I am not here to complain of God and soul. You would not believe me anyway. I want to meet God with life can I? Not in a station up there, but down here in living flesh that does not appear an illusion.
I want to mate time with life, and it doesn’t hurt or get boring. Fill me with woods now I’m clean. I’m on your dresser drawer vying for true spirituality, not plaudits, not wise sayings, not moral admonishments.
I wanna set myself on fire with the living God and be down to earth and warm, not disdaining life, not rejecting it. I want heaven on earth. Do you?
My voice recording realized ages ago a tale had to be told. Pardon me.
How many have drowned and seen God? It’s not in your litmus paper, fireballs from heaven. I’m just this silly nigger among you. I’m not allowed to cook at your ashram or say grace at a potluck dinner.
What do I do with community? Everybody’s competin’ for the same pair of eyes. It’s not pronounced yet, but these are God’s love eyes. How many hypocrites wear ‘em? I just wanted the field to say.
I can’t get over myself. I feel the claustrophobia of Don. I feel the pain of the world. You market too. I know it.
I’m stuck in this little person having bigger thoughts than I am. I have seen beyond the veil, but I walk the creek and cry for my dog, where she put her paws.
I crawl through the fucking hours just like you, listening for a laugh. I’m not a kingpin. The joke’s on me. I hug the hours what is this shit worth? But I want comfort from them you know.
I caught God in a torrent of this space is mine. I plant my feet and sigh God, wonderful to have this world guarding moment.
This just eats my lunch, the walls of the present moment that won’t let me see the eternal now. I’m stuck in flesh. I cannot climb out of this shell. I cannot get beyond myself.
You laugh at me and point fingers, or feel the compassion the sage feels seeing truant man, but I hold commerce with the universe, and I am crowded with deity on the tip of my pen.
They holler at me in the world and grab my hand, and I know the stench of devils and feel their blind assaults.
I hold my head up high in the pit of night and do sadhana. I call God down into my house and know the wretched I have been, and it’s with bowed head and extended prayer I cry to the heavens God. Come bake with me will you God on earth.
Such limited character changes development. I’m not a rosy fire-kingdom. My sadhana is my pedestal I balance the present moment on to keep in those thin parameters the divine name only mystery speaks, a firm and fast bewilderment at the thoughts of God taking shape in the world in front of me.
All else assails there. All else comes from there, or I am robbed there by my own insufficiencies. Why do I play in the yard? I ask zero that question and grab myself by the balls and move on.
I’m in line with the Earth, and I don’t throw the Earth away to meet God. The Earth is myself, and we are all climbing out of the Void.
I hold identity with the Earth, come rain or shine, and that’s how we form Earth, together, encompassing the world to find God, reaching out of the universe to bring God here, hands-on God, the eyes that we look out of and the hands that we use.
Needs spiritual experience wants the dragon response back to his house. Who’s pic do you follow? Hands on fate now. It’s time to get past lawsuits.
You just comb what was expected of you. I challenge the world and then pick my nose. My overdo’s, my out of dates. [vision with the line of Sri Aurobindo seated looking at me in one of the last photos of him taken]
photo by Henri Cartier-Bresson, 1950, courtesy of the Sri Aurobindo Ashram
He’s got a principle pair. He’s bigger than skylight. He’s my guru, has a leading voice in my poetry, is the principle behind my music, is who I look to for divine change.
He’s open-minded and warm, and I been with ‘im a long time. I do inner contact sadhana, right before your eyes.
I don’t sit and guess upon the world. I get my hand held, but I’m a rebellious student. I question and accuse, lift mine eyes to the heavens and tell the Gods off.
I give him a hard time. I hold him to his task, am livid and rude sometimes, but I love him dearly and follow him on nails.
You don’t know what’s been asked of me, the role I have to carry. There is no forgiveness among men, nor mercy for being left out in the cold.
I am principle love. Not a person has it really. I put you to the test. You only care the pool of men. The love of God you distain, yet I go on, wearing the vermillion caste mark, the scarlet letter.
You would be jealous if you knew the score. You certainly would never believe it. What I lose from men I get with God, companionship, love, and hope, to a degree you don’t know possible.
Now I’m in your neck of the woods, a long time ago repented of my sins. Big fucking deal— you’d rub my nose in it anyway. You’re incapable of being ought than you are. You have not the oneness inside.
You do not love God you love your morality, and you are good to the good, bad to the bad, forever more amen. You want punishment and castigation. You don’t know the law of healing. You can’t stand it.
I have healing ways. I’m a doctor of behavior and attitude, of the soul heals. I will die with my knowledge unused. You don’t know the value of such things. You spit on it.
Doctor of the soul, where the soul leads the way, is the therapist and changer of man, that is what I bring among you. It doesn’t come easy. You have to have a need naught else but healing. It will take years.
You guys do me a favor. Come through my poems. It’s all in there, but most have been taken offline. When I die open them up and read them, and then put my name in the list of life. Include me again in your society. I did the work you wanted me to do.
You would be pleased I suffered. Oh, I suffered, threw myself up against your heart so many times, cried out to God in pain. I’m showin’ where we’re stuck in the ways of man. No one sees it.
There are more of us than I can bear, hated outcasts, and I am the heart of humanity shoulderin’ the world.
This is the place you need to work, right here, to change the nature of man. Right here today I give you the example of sacrifice. Fire away, take away my world from me, again. I’m showin’ you what love looks like when it’s in your hands, and know I love you.
Marriage of soul and Earth, I thought it was attracted to something beautiful. It’s the most guttural, physical location there is. We’d need to make plans. Where are you going? My butt’s yours man. All for one and one for soul.
I could get worse and I could get chicory, but we do business with the Earth you know, and we all share this intimacy. You got God there watchin’— oh my honey child, it’s all my plan.
I feel coverage beating on the roof of the world. I’m not smiling. This is so crash and burn. I don’t know how to reconcile this with God, the holes in the program. It’s bigger than me, but God is here my friend, like this is the Void, and he can’t get at it in his shoes.
I’m not worried about that. I want to mate my life with God in everything I do. How does this play out in the world? We come upon a change of consciousness, not just worship God.
We take God’s coverage and go there, until we look out the eyes of God. I have, and I’m tellin’ yah it’s greater than enlightenment. Mountains are movin’ me there now, that way station of enlightenment.
You would laugh and tell jokes— who does he think he is? Can I just be plain water? I’ve reached bare earth. I’m not haughty in my mind. I see myself and whistle Dixie, the idiom dear not the racism.
Nothin’ I do is great or small, and I can hold my dick in my hand and not play with it, but that’s not all I’m after. I want to look at you and not be offended by I’m such a shit to you. I don’t want to hurt by it no more, feel the pain of this earthen outcast. You are mean you know.
Terrible my time with you I do not speak right, and you are so hung up on speech, get offended at the guttural word. I’m loud and clear it takes willingness to change.
Get off your high horse man and meet us at the river, where even naked we’re not ashamed of ourselves, and we do not harm one another, but where the wild things are, myself and all these people, who’ve torn you a new asshole interpreting God anew. The river my friend, will you join me?
A cyclic poem, I pull myself up on the crap all the time, and here I am writin’ down wood. I’m bustin’ your balls. I should just go swimmin’ with you in everybody’s freeway.
Can we reach each other at guttural need, or are we alone inside that’s it? We play ballgames here. It’s not divided up in sexes. It’s not even wrong.
The New Jerusalem is galvanized on we lift up you and me. It doesn’t falter it doesn’t shame. We heal through change of consciousness, and we love one another.
Are you ready to buy this thing? This cycle I un-stigmatize God, the lover of all of us, the inside and outside of every situation. I hated it there until I realized what it took to change.
I smell soup. All these cut up ingredients, they’re in the zero God, right there to form the ingredients of the long-awaited paradise on earth.
Fool my ass, I’m joinin’ reality with heaven right now. You got them balls? They’re skyrockets, my love made real.
Fine, I’ll wait. You’re gonna be up in my room either here or in heaven on earth: ah, ah, a neighborhood this got foreseen; this was available for everyone; are you risking your life?
Blockbuster down and not one single person to help. Oh vagina. Now let’s grab by the bones and grow taller than mankind. Okay brotherhood?
You just get offended at plowshares. I’m followin’ my inspiration right. This is not sex do the poem. Okay Goldilocks? Alright man, I’m not dangerous help. Without a muffler I brighten the thoughts of God. If you haven’t noticed he’s a character. Great Scott! they kicked 'im out of town.
Look at God. Some of us are too busy to look up. I wanted to say that God is silent,too invisible for us, too round about the chain. I don’t know how to reconcile God with the need at this moment, and would if I need community, a flesh and blood moment? Do the mountains care?
How do I find God in the hours the substantiality of a reality in front of me I can hold, touch, and feel? Give up my attachments and longings so I can meet naked God, where does this happen on earth? I can’t find him in the rowboat I’m in.
I hear a voice explaining to me things. Visions give me knowledge. I have the substantiality of this playing card. It keeps me company more than men. Sometimes I glimpse God through the rafters. I capture for him my eyes seeing things. Doubt has been removed he is there. I’m not playin’ silly putty, but where does this cross the line into flesh? Where does this reality bear down on me God is there the world is not, the face of the world wears God?
Where do I find this? It’s not make believe. It’s the reality I seek. My wife has told me of enlightenment where God becomes real in the world, but when I was there all I saw was emptiness and an illusionary world, just like the Buddha said. I was flabbergasted entering ego again. I could not deal with the illusion. God was no reality there.
How do I reconcile this with time? Have I arrived at God now, so that enlightenment would bring me God? Knowledge speaking inside me says yes, but let’s put enlightenment as a criteria to meet God, and we’ve put impossibility into our mule, the rarest thing on earth. A person who’s been there can say that. This is beyond the world. Three times I’ve stepped past the threshold. I didn’t comfortable. What’s going on?
Maybe this put God on my table, and now I’m waiting on the full picture. I can’t get past this moment of being uncomfortable with all these feelin’s of being terribled by life, the pain of this moment, the vulnerability, in every face I see. The human condition assails me.
I am grasping world pain, and I do not like it there. So enlightenment is so far away, God the distant grandstand. I don’t care if you believe me or not, I have a gift: the world, and there it is your identity. It cannot be thrown away, but are bigger steps God?
Hey world, my very self, we’re there. If you stop hittin’ me maybe I can see it. This chapter about anybody home? Take off your shoes. Put ‘em in the corner. Can’t see why you won’t look at me. Well I’m putting back it’s not so bad right now. Conversion clinic, conversion 13, you doin’ a lot of things that hurt, and I am wonderin’ what’s next. There’s more wallop me upside the head?
There’s a car dealer. To thee I was a flyin’. Now that I came back from, I strongly suspect you’re arms God. Who knows complainin’, my goodness, might rob me of a strong sword. Now how do I greet the day pain in my tennis shoes? Greet the world with a poem. Can you believe that God?
Have to do my flip-flops. I’m gonna take ‘em off. So much easier than tied shoes goin’ indoors to the common room. Do you understand that ditty? Buddy, when you had to take your shoes off in community, I’m one step ahead of you. Mount Everest just came by.
I saw the guy did you? We’ve been to the marketplace. We’ve been to the moon. Where will we go next? In your living room my sweet, wonderful world, in your driving car.
Sophisticated, you have to let it go. He doesn’t believe in it. Voices wrote this poem and voices end it, good voice, so honey with this guy’s sweat and blood. It’s a poetry to help light the fire of inner revolution. Inner witness, I remember you. Hear that reader?
Juice on the table from hot water, we’re gonna sell it to even the children. Chris says I earned it everything, everything buddy there reading my poetry. He gives it all away, amazing volumes of poetry. Gonna look back on and see the price he paid For All Mankind. In this episode he just walked through the spacecraft. What sees you? Tell me your story.
Nithish found this hand-sized, laminated card with other numbered cards of the same type in an abandoned bus in the forest of the International Township of Auroville, India, just off Crown Road, photo by him
We are at the kingdom of the beginning of this beautiful brand new day. Let’s fix it you are not alone in the Transcendent.
I don’t know what to drink. I am soft and warm and mean and skinny. I plough through my room. I don’t know the time yet. I just spit on people. I stick my neck out for the razor type. I’m loud and boisterous, but I’m quiet near a river.
The lonely mountains see me pass a branded name. I’m stuck in mud. I shine all day. I run horses around stakes because I am one. I don’t like cowboys. They’re just stupid and mean, and I’ve seen too many dead ones.
I cry all damn day but laugh in front of people. I know my soul as a thin wraith inside that splits my hairs, and God above is a joke really I look at with my serious face. What is the meaning of life in a neigh? Tell the world that I’m here buen provecho.
Can you call humanity here? Is this the mass of men? Is this all of us bereft of spiritual change?
Grace Memorial Hospital liberation is in caballos, the monumental effort we put in to go past our limiting reason, to overcome our desires and principles, to be ourselves where soul meets Earth.
How do I do this? With a massive effort of my everyday life, changing the fronts of my being from the ground up. It’s opening the inner consciousness and be aware of our subliminal selves, and this extends into sleep, what we become conscious of the more we grab each night. It’s a change of character in man. It’s so much more than meditation and pranayama or digging toxins out with asanas.
It melts your ego over and over again over a good many number of years, but we do have history of the immediate lesson. How do I gauge this to you? It’s inner work completely see how you’re constructed. You become conscious of all. What gives it the spiritual ride? Understand God you understand and begin encountering him in the world from the depths of yourself.
This is concrete and real when you reach that stage it’s active, but these are not just thoughts of God. The substance of your consciousness change as you approach the Silence and take down the ego, and you begin to see the world through the spiritual consciousness. / You know it’s there. Even your feet surrender to this call. You reach into your subconscious and illuminate those rooms. You know the origin of your acts. You see how your nature became twisted or torn, and you see the repair being done by the soul witness within you.
You’ve grown bigger than ships. You know how it happens, world process, now that you see how your own self is made. These are beginning moorings to enlightenment’s doorstep, to the soul is the beginner of yourself. There is an on high, but enlightenment is a grave molecule to get there when you are flying by the seat of your soul.
Now where is that last caballo? Fred, Freddie! Where is the last man on Mars? A whole ship failed, and that planet died. Spiritualization did not move their keel. They refused the process evolve. What is the fate of the Earth? It is written in your destiny young woman, young man, and the great spiritualization has begun in the interest of the young to reach beyond society and see what’s new.
They don’t know spirituality yet, but oh my God planet they will. Good. Here’s a poem to knock you around in battle, to help light up the way. It’s so much more than diet and exercise. Can you see the divine in your face? Alright crawl there from the look of divinity in another person. Look I’ll meet you there at the library store venting this is all too much for our kind.
It’s a bubble test. It goes beyond Mars. See yah on the other side kid. Not a million miles away. Alright who done it? The Earth itself in great big leaps of mankind. Send us there before it’s tomorrow and it’s too late. I would imagine there’s plenty of blood on the floor, and the 5th is not even in it, but what about this morning when you saw your hope rise with the sun?
Dawn we see the package. I’m here reading this book. Suddenly I provide. I provide a dispenser, short bottleneck though it is. Is anyone flowerin’ yoga? If there was a law there’s no compliant. There’s just dueling banjos, but look toward thine angel now. Look homeward and up. So it’s got at least another tick in there, world matter till dawn.
On the spool of our hopes, on the livid of our dreams, we engage thee our spiritual morn. We just swept the car. I’m embarrassed. I have not stood there with my might yet, but my goodness horses here I come, and we’re on fire with everlivin’ need. You there, you understand?
Into the summer pageantry, I go forth unfailed by noon, unhanded by time. My spirit’s lonely shell in diabetes lay, is fretting upon the Earth. I can’t seem to get lost here and forget the Infinite for whom my life’s pay. Golden bridals of dawn have lit the morn, and I suspect Earth shakes. I suspect I’m wrong. Too horrible creature for words I belch poems of fire.
I don’t know where my destiny lay. It’s deeper than me. I don’t know where I’m goin’, and I’m in a car upon the roads of time. I just sit there and wait, going forward, lifting up my voice to fate. I can’t catch my dreams. I don’t know where they’re taking me. I’m in an uncertain moment, labeled a monster of the wood by someone who gets away with it. My home I fled from. She’d put a gun to my head, nobody to help me but this old guitar on the lifebeats of time.
Will I wake up and understand the morrow? I don’t know what business there, and I can be crucified today. Oh foolish Sun, is so much wasted on thee? What am I doin’ it for? Why do I plot my life towards the Spirit’s call? It is within me and I do it that is all, and I’m frying in a frying pan, having melted my home for her, where she had all power. Where did God help?
I suddenly escaped, and great large forces prepared that, and people did help. Fine, fine, I’ll go. I’ll transcend time and climb out of time to see my Face once more. I wear him still, where I find him today a necessity, the greater being that I am, so close it’s a million miles away, a chariot on my moon. Stronger now I gather evidence.
You don’t know what I’m talkin’ about. I just want to lay me down to sleep and be oblivion to all that encompasses me. I’m watchin’ the freeways turn to some other destination I can’t read. I can’t even see. I was born to put the incarnate in verse. I cannot count the cost I’m done. I am the uttered word taken apart by kingpins and pushed into the dirt. You see the history of this? Jezebel come forth. I am writing on the Sun.
Are you sure you’re led halfway? What rallies against your speech now? What blinded impulse urge did you do? You are innocent of her charges. Where do we get this out of here? There is nowhere where we haven’t drawn our horses. We are an envelope on our soul opening it. When I walked my soul I was in daylight. Love is the threatened of my feelin’ knowledge, the smushed of the prepared in my shield. I feel my stomach in it, all this mess. I spit it out my room. I’m not a devil. I’m not even a bad man. I’m certainly not raping my dog or about to blow up and kill the neighborhood or kidnap Nithish from India. Why would the cops take her seriously and come to my door and harass me?
I don’t understand this murder or the threat of jail for weeks afterwards, or that they might take my dog. This is ungodly. I didn’t commit a crime. I didn’t even do anything wrong. Where do this lead us? On the wrong road. We are not Bridal Falls, Minnesota. We’re Hell’s bells in this situation room Florida. Why would I suffer here? What’s the door? Poetry I let out. I called Trump out of office. I talked about infant orgasm I received, not condoning it nor encouraging it, and I didn’t let Christianity get away with it, putting people in Hell for all eternity, even most voters in the world, because they didn’t vote for Christ, and what about ICE? I’ve poetry’d against them, their murderous ways, their racist endeavor.
Okay you found me. I’m a poet you need shut up. I’m a poet you need out of town. Did you do that? You let it happen. No one came to my aid, except who I’d reached through friendship, and they are great on that, but we’d shared life together, and we’ve been in the presence of each other’s eyes soft and warm. They came in and helped, put me on the road again and a place to go to, and they’re ground guiding me in. I discovered reef, what the fishes know. It provides for me.
Okay now where is your soft and warm, your care and concern? Where do you hold freedom as a value you prize? Is anybody listenin’? You know what happened to me? Can you understand this in America? Poetry got me in trouble with the law. Nothing illegal I wrote. Someone took my poetry to the police and alarmed them with the accusations I’ve mentioned, no evidence provided, no evidence needed. This woman had power. She wanted me removed and did it.
What do you say to that? Do that for lunch, crap all over somebody, show them to be a monster, try to remove them from society, because they’d written poetry that offended you. The patriotism of this lady would turn your head, her salute the flag, but isn’t this typical of Americans nationalistic to the core? They will take your freedom away from you if they don’t agree with it. They will burn the Constitution, if you’re protected by it, and they don’t want you to be.
I’m still tryin’ at your door. Who does a poet talk to anyway? Who does he appeal to, the lawyer who wants ten thousand dollars just to investigate this case, the civil liberties union, who won’t even answer your email, the legal aid society, who won’t give you a dime, if the matter here is crime? You’re a warped society. No protections for someone such as me, who has no special name among you, who is not rich and doesn’t need one, who’s not a member of a minority. I did not carry a gun to a protest. I did not hit a policeman with my car, even a little bit. I wrote poetry and got in trouble for it, and you only give those murdered people credit to get protection from law enforcement, from cops carrying guns who unfailingly use them to murder citizens. What about a living poet? What about the rule of law that should in theory protect him?
Do you know what’s happened here? You think it’s dictators. It’s your worst nightmare made real. It’s your apathy and compliance to the mass enslavement of people to the cruelty of the machine. Another man taken down, so what? Do you hear me people? So removable, the awakening of the crowd. Storm Heaven with the right to be not a Christian. I think you like this speaker. He’s American. You told me something. Put on the vote get power out of office that’s goin’ down these lanes, where even art and poetry is in danger, or even freedom of expression they take from you now.
Am I a flywheel? I am the culling house today of let’s make this real simple. We’re lookin’ for a depository where instances of fascism can be recorded and set up criteria for the legitimacy of that reporting, a national hotline, an email you can tell, a national depository. You’re online, and we can review these cases ourselves, see them grow. You know, we’d get somewhere. We’d see it happenin’. We’d know it’s there.
On Old Galveston Road, or just down the lane, I rose up into Wonder’s sphere. My seat of consciousness came out the top of my head several meters into a whole other plane of existence, the larger I that I am beyond this sphere of lives. It’s conscious and it’s free. Several seconds I sat there. Then went back down to myself driving the truck. So, I know it’s up there above everyone, a being so unimaginable, it is the divine self of you above, the divine self of everybody, individually sphered, is the innumerable self above. It is one being one in all. Yeah, I ride that the poetry I write.
I have breached the spheres, and I know this is all bullshit, this whole damn ride we have down here, but it’s not an illusion. Nor it’s a lark. We change it one combustion at a time, until the Glorious comes down here to work more often than it does now, the Being that surrounds the universe with its gaze. Of course I’ll be persecuted. Of course Jezebel will hunt me. Of course these things happen. I’m on it. I’m right here describing it to you, fillin’ the details in with know whodunit.
Left lane ends one mile. This breach in the reality of the universe, the reality I’ve described to you that is the sole heart of this one, will be addressed and repaired not long from now. Can you get that? I will not be persecuted much longer by these people. I have some poetry to write. First thing I need protection. No, I’m talkin’ in a space that can't do that? Careful, you might lose your own freedoms in your notebook.
Tryin’ to humanize the experience. I’m tryin’ to show it to yah. It started when I lost my job for poetry months ago. Before that in India I got kicked out for writing poetry, separated from my family. I think you think it’s okay there, but has America lost democracy too? What are we tryin’ here? The way of the world. Do you know what engines are about, the directions of population control, the implements in place for that? No, I’m not talking gruesome they kill you there in mass droves. The everyday means of livin’ are being turned into a cattle bin. It exceeds any report about it. Look at your phone. Look at all the control devices. Look at the rules and regulations to even open a bank account, to rent an apartment, to put vehicles in the street, to go to the doctor. How hard is it to get a job, and what do all the questions ask you? Are you friends with the machine?
Everyday liberties are being taken from us, and it is as though they never were. This is insane, the normal people operating in society rule checks the automaton, is a pipe in a machine that pipes to no thing that eases its desolation, is a calling card to the Man to check the citizen's every move. We are becoming unmanageable as isolated freedoms. We’re too expensive to just let loose. We must be bound and carded. We must toe the line. We must do all this and merely say it’s fine. Dissidence is becoming too dangerous to harbor. You report dissidence to the police. That’s what happened to me. That’s what’s goin’ on now.
We’ll see yah tomorrow mornin’ chicken noodles into a fight. Are you gonna fare me? I’m not gonna shut up. Leave us alone. Take down my playbill, you can see they’re experienced today. Everything’s written around that. I was there in a Haight-Ashbury’s shoes yoga year. And to think that you’d become on the ground of being, often on the road, a vehicle for God’s registry to put his voice, a lone weaver of the hour of God, and what do you do for a livin’? What cycle do you wanna take? The song of poetry, my voice lifted high to the sky, my words reverberating on earth matter.
Is this a dream? It is thy wild wood. It is thy heart’s desire to thee. It’s where we go from here. It’s the stadium we pass now. It’s yours for the beholdin’ kin. I can do that. I can land on your word the vehicle of my speech. I can land yours in mind and plant mine on your feet, so the heart shall know love crude as a peacock has glistened his moons today, has arrived with liquid voice to show you the Sun’s risin’ ways.
I am a purple heart, and I dance on you now the purple pageantry of love putting hate in its place out of bridal dawn. Fine, I’ll grip your heart today. Will you dance on me now love’s pageantry today, love’s high noon? I’m the alien to all your notions of time, to what you view as the larger picture, to any answer that you’ve come up with to our state, because I’ve seen what I know, experienced it firsthand, and no amount of convincing me otherwise will prove it to me that I didn’t. This is my livin’ faith. This is what I hold in my hand. This is the knowledge that parts the stars.
Fine, I’ll be your bended wood, the poet you won’t give that title to, the one who stands here and sings like I’m in a vacuum. I know I know who I am. Gonna pull over somewhere and realize I am you. This is the knowledge that welds together the stars. It’s all I really ask from you, the empathy of that name, the identity that helps. We’re in the zone now I reach all the way to the public. We will see if you care. We will see if you know the difference between love and hate.
That’s what you guys for, to engender freedom and our care for one another. Corona’s the last time I saw you just shoveled aside for. Herd you away from the freedom we need to breathe almost everything in society now. Somethin’ is not right in our day to day ritual. I have the field glasses to see that. I have the equipment. Wrong kind of recipe you put under freedom. I gotta tell you somethin'. You’re makin’ some big mistake puttin’ poetry in the corner.
Now you can play off of my poems that I give you. I’m givin’ you poetry, and you’ve completely forgotten we manage by it freedom and help to wipe out hate and to be a true language model. What is this world? I’m late. We’re supposed to manage this world a better friend to everyone. Why on earth would you not agree? Why on earth would you fail here? That’s for poetry to answer, and I have. That’s the start of you wiping it out our rise to the occasion you take a poet and shoot ‘im or take his freedom.
Run up to see what you’re sayin’— the freedom loving individual. You’ve done it before. Remember your Walt Whitman? I fly my seat upon the roads of time. He axed; he falls more gravity than I can bear. I just look you back here, all that’s gathered back there and start doberman. Readers pipe in. I mean you gotta go down something like this don’t look at it all— Mrs. Mean Date in the earlier walking. Another purple heart. The first two, they will blasphemy.
Somebody spittin’ you and you go right down there: just as I am I cross thresholds. I try to be myself all the time. I don’t exaggerate my being. I want you to see me as me, and we identify with each other from there, from that bake, a humanity seeing, a humanity start. We’ve got to stop this revolution that puts us all as automatons at the hands of society, that takes our lives away, and they become the machine, that puts us at odds with each other so we change our core being, and you are not my brother, my neighbor; you’re a stranger we can do away with when society says that. We want to stop the revolution of ourselves turning into a mass of product. Can you realize that far? Please, come with me.
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.
I don’t know I think freedom is dangerous. It gives us a timetable to revolutionize society. So we need to? Did Trump invade Poland? (like, does a bear shit in the woods?) We have no greater need in society, but this is not about politicians. It has our housewares on it, our everyday lives. We need to change society into what’s good for all, into a whole nuther way of life, where we can live out our potentials and be ourselves.
That dose not include harming other people, unless their harm is so immediate to harm them now is the only way to stop it, deadly force if necessary, but you would kill me here. They’re not death penalty do or given any harm that protecting us does not render. These are separation lists if this is another set of circumstances other than the absolutely must be stopped now, and here’s where we need to change: every person’s valuable in our eyes, has the right to be and coexist, and no person is excluded from this list.
It is only there we can find ourselves in our worth. We have potentials unknown, unguarded, and unguessed. We are not here to swat flies. Our purpose in living is beyond time, but let’s get back to the wood, shall we?
We are larger than ourselves. We do not live in a bubble of individual freedom. Our consciousness extends to the whole race and includes the Earth in its habitat. We share consciousness, and our thoughts and our dreams ride the waves of humanity’s spleen-basket. We touch each other there.
Any investigation will prove it over long, slow years. A group of people living together will prove it, who bear the remembrance of their dreams and inner experiences on a daily basis, through their group. Interpret your dreams is the first thing, and this puts us back to square one. No one can see this part of the shared field of consciousness occurring between us every day. It’s in symbols. It’s not readily apparent except in rare instances. It’s not literal.
How can I interpret my dreams for you? Can I speak ahead of my time? We will see each other’s dreams tear humanity down and make a better humanity with it all in good time. We will see that the thought creates the act, our thoughts in someone else’s action, and we are at most fault here, not understanding the collective will bleeds harmful individuals as much as it does those who are right.
We die here. We lay blame here. We have no idea what’s goin’ on. We castigate we confuse. We are not in ourselves right. You share identity with that larger man. On the level of ourselves we are one. Even in our individual consciousness we bear the individuality of the whole. We share identity like we do rivers. This is visible as the Self you can even see in your mind, play with in your heart, before the change of consciousness ahead.
We are not here to remain the same. We have duty to change our very nature. We are animals now in a field, in a pack. Herds upon herds of us distinguish man as nothing in particular except the animal that lords over all, destroys its planet with so many feeding spaces. It’s not a steward but a wrecker of its planet and society.
Go into any home. Animals lick their wounds, feed and enjoy themselves and prepare their young to abstract survival as they have done into the modes of man. We do not create a larger type. We make our children toe the line of being human today. We have no imagination ahead. We can’t get our children there, break out of this mold of stupid us.
We have larger fields ahead, ever preparing their day to come. Very few heed that call. Religion has been a placebo convincing us we’re there. You can work on yourself every day and never find it. It’s bigger than the moon and the starlight, but you can get there from here. Anyway, you have to make of your daily life a pilgrimage to discover all that’s hidden inside, to look at the outside in those discoveries, the glasses of change, and become yourself the larger man, a lifetime’s endeavor. That is not bound by belief. You experience, you know, and you move forward.
There are changes in consciousness ahead. You will meet the Silence, eventually, and it’s within your arms to discover the soul inside. The roof overhead, you will break in time, and the seat of your consciousness, your experiencing self, will fountain out of the top of your head into unknown regions, into the larger field above. We are in a clockwork universe it’s possible to see beyond. It’s possible to get up there for a limited time only. Several seconds have exposed this poem.
Now what do I do to climb out of words and show you my tattoo? We have another field man. We have to change inside our makings, so much representative think, so much put on the feelings of others, so much be ourselves and not society’s notion of us or even our family’s. Can you get that?
You know you have inside so much more than go to work, go home, and there and back again, than a craver for society’s wares, than an eating machine, than any enjoyment you have, and you know you are bigger than society puts you down.
Where are the handles on this? You can’t find them. This is too big. A caveman has come and talked to industrialized society, to use an analogy how far we are from the larger field of man. I’m showin’ yah the wares. You begin to live your life differently than for a paycheck, or for all these things you want, or for solely your enjoyment, or even for your kids, parents, and spouse, for your loved ones, but in every field I’ve mentioned, you can make that the starting point for your self-discovery. You make that your means to go home. You can do it there, in normal life, by making of yourself a pilgrimage to discover that greater you, to find that larger us, to change society in its very moving parts.
I’m not way off base. I’m right here in your hand revealin’ life. Stupid me, I go through weather patterns, you know? I’m not enlightenment yet or the higher consciousness. I have vision inside, and I get visited by great thoughts all day long. I move through the world tryin’ to make my thoughts reality. They come across as these poems. I’m a slug in a handbasket you know, in that basket spaceship Mother Earth, a sluggin’ it with you homey.
I can’t get out of this wood, but I’m practicin’ sureness in it we’re gonna get there. I can see it now, but I got hit on my bicycle by a car, and I’m laid up, hold up, an invalid temporary. Now that hurts. The damn VA won’t give me any pain medication, but they’re okay, treated me nice, commendable actually. I don’t gotta go to work for today. I was on my way to work when it happened. Stupid car, didn’t see the sidewalk. Now I can paint you poems free and easy, since that car stepped in and made the universe prove, for today’s papers, need as poet more than Mr. Grocery boy. Halleluja, huh?
Look in a thousand years. We will be larger than wood. We’ve got so much work to do that we haven’t started yet. Fine, fine, meditate, practice all these roles of spirituality, but it’s in your hands you try to find the roles inside. Can you meditate while you’re doin’? Bake that field. Make the field in front of you God, that person, that task, and there’s the secret to longevity of the changes you make. Hold a representative consciousness inside, everywhere you look, everywhere you turn around, in all your life’s tasks, at rest and at play. You’re seein’ God outta do it. Overhead that’s who you are inside.
Can I graft this to trees? God is the All-Look in on itself, the real behind the apparent, the one he be looked to for change. I can get lost in words. God is our plan. An unknowable All-Mystery grabs us all in personal sleeves. Who-Done-It, my God that’s good. We love a good mystery. We love to be sleuth.
Now hold my hand. I’ve got so much more to show you than time. I love those feelins. Even my Luna’s the great One, but that goddamn car, I’m workin’ on that one. It hurts you know. Alright hand me down sleeves. I know how to put you on at night, goddamn in bed with the world learnin’ duty, learnin’ price. The world goes deep, you know? The world goes wide. It’s fine. Even my dog says so, and she’s on the rag. I just go too far in world faculty.
Pissin’ all over the place, that’s the modes of man. We are primitive land seekers, and we don’t know where we’re goin’. Let’s arrive at peace on earth is our greatest notion, or live in harmony with the Earth. We don’t have a sense of ourselves an evolving species from man to a higher type. Oh my God, I just hit science in the nose. It’s stuck in material process and can’t even interpret our dreams yet, or know that we inhabit consciousness together, because it can’t see that far. In animal vision, in animal man, we can’t get over ourselves or see that larger field, or even get there. Put bubbles in place, we can’t swim out of them. Can you?
Interactive city, let’s ride some fences, shall we? What names did I give you to believe in? I’m givin’ you wide open stuff I’m not anchorin’ down. I want you to believe in yourself in your higher type. That’s the coming messiah, if you’re lookin’ for saviors. It’s you and me and every last one of us, takin’ these conscious springs of evolution, a field of human consciousness has given us, and evolvin’ don’t you see? A gospel of everybody, don’t you see that yet?
Put representative bowls in place, I’m lifted change. I got rid of my sweetheart, a robbin’ piece of flesh. I don’t need it anymore, even in fantasy, even in the attraction pull. I was not normal down there. I wasn’t gay either. I see the mystery pull, and I changed my life to prove it. Now what do you get down there if you’re not bothered with it? You don’t get a hole. There are ecstasies beyond this world in a much deeper field of play. There are ecstasies down there attached to nobody, all along the chakra-spine, and your body can be in orgasm shooting you out the top of the head.
You sexual spider-cake, you’re not bein’ life itself. You’re fooled by nature’s cravings to continue the species and get some craving relief. You’re fooled by distant man together again in one body male and female. I understand union reals, but mine was impossible to understand because nature had gone awry and pitted me with another half I could not join society with. I had to change, and I had to know the world to do it. I had to discover myself. I had to get big. I discovered abstinence not denial, and I’m not an accident waiting to happen. I know how to harmonize life and just be myself in any given situation.
Can you do that, or are you bound by society’s rules that stigmatize yourself? I’ve overcome you. Men hurt and women, and I can find myself in a field of pain at the drop of a hat, at the turn of a phrase, and do you know what I’m giving you? What’s the price of change? You can’t do it in today’s society. Can I help you? Can I be there for you? And you will only read this to find crime, you blockhead. Is that the majority of us? Do you find crime?
I revolutionize society right here lookin’ at it. I revolutionize society right in front of you. Kill me for it, will you? I’m on old pastured ground, but I’m not visible to your eyes man’s worth. Nobody wants to put me out in the open because I’m a dangerous man in these times. You might get in trouble for it. I don’t know why I’m here speakin’ under your table right now to the high and the low. I could be anywhere, but I’m not I’m here, givin’ you my life’s blood, takin’ out my heart and showin’ it to you, so you can sacrifice with me to the joy of the world all our petty and mean, any vehicle of harm, sacrifice even your safety in ego activism par none, not stupidly, not shamefully, on the field of poetry bounds, or whatever art aids yah to take the ego from its throne, to move the ego from its peacock seat, to end its dominance on earth. You get my carryin’ dog?
You sacrifice yourself on the alter of life in sudden epiphanies of the inspired art. Would that God stays Abraham’s hand and doesn’t kill his son, you know? The wise care on the dance floor, this is the new Gilbert, Mattie Mae. Can you come down some to our price? The greatest feelins in the world are all around you, even if you get hit by a car, and you’re not too fucked up to see them. That’s God you see and the Mystery behind time, just a livin’ it up in the wood, and bringing you in on yourself so you see them the Wonderful who you are.
This happens every day in any field on earth, but you have to find them inside to see them as clearly as you do the world, and that’s an inner journey par none, over and over again. Break the bounds inside. Throw open the lid that separates you from infinity, and get yourself all straightened out, over long, slow years, over every minute of your life. In all your mistakes, you’re goin’ somewhere, but you don’t do mistakes to get there. You harmonize everything into your larger see.
Now I’ve given you the keys to begin. Now is this a booty hunt? It’s nothin’ that will always get you anything. Now what the desert symbols in dreams? That’s the touchstone to a greater life, that arid, that barren, and when the honey starts, it’s not up all along. You have to be tested and tried, and there are snakes on the footpath and liars in your head. It’s a milkshake of calamity taking you to safety, and you’ve made the monsters mad that mess with human lives, the monsters under your bed. They just rule down here you know? And the negligent divine waits to intervene. It’s got to be the right stuff or a node on the story all-important. It sucks you know? Makes for banging your head against the wall in your miracle ward.
Have I spelled it enough. I can get goin’ towards that hidden sun. Does it have to be a car, you divine underwood, crashin’ me into the pavement, the divine intervention I ride, taking out of business, that ground me for a paycheck? What the fuck?
The rice failed enough gas. Did I get away with it? It’s rainin’. I can’t get over it, how I’m brought before my enemies, those that fire me and kick me out of India and just generally despise me, and shown to be a beggar in the wood marchin’ down the hill to a hole at the end of the tunnel. Reader, do you see that? No, you see my inner wares. I’d be a cap gun that fools yah. That’s not God pushin’ you on the floor. It’s his chaperon, the bodied life we are. Kinda gets yah in the knickers, doesn’t it, the embarrassment we are.
I’m goin’ for larger pastures, and I’m bringin’ my dog. Got a problem with that? I’m not molten lava. I am not weird and strange. Clothes against the wind, the key to love is change; that’s all. How you get around everything: genuine and love, back behind everything, build a life. You have arrived at the end of the poem. In a sudden change, you can only take your own car. Go for it. Read it, Review of Nonconformity And Other Stars.
That’s a foundation-spread spirituality. You need help. How far did you go? Did you get all the way down to the well of soul? Now there’s advice, everyday counsel. There is saving grace in given words and visions in the very substance of your dreams, and great seraphim thoughts that ride your day. Listen to this. It’s guidance from down under concrete and whole.
Hey, crowd, somethin’ tears it apart, this speakeasy in your mind, invader of dreams, the ones who put circumstance together down here on earth. The monsters of the deep, they talk too. They guide you to tear you apart, and do you know what? They do it all the time, and without the discernment, you just fall apart. They block the soul, imitate it, and drown it out with their lore, and can I come on the scene with channeling? Most this is rotten tomatoes. The divine doesn’t speak that way, and divine beings are all around us, giving guidance like the soul, inner ships, having a conversation in the symbols of art.
It’s inner speech daemon and inner vision, a high kaleidoscope of grand advice, a chorus of voices rich with entertainment’s mood and the jolly of the world. It’s unbelievable in its scope. It’s happenin’ in your ability to go in trance inside, or anytime you go inside for a bright reverie that can come from cooking a meal, if you’re alone, and operating a motor vehicle, all eyes on the road, any mundane task monotonous enough to go in while doin’ it. These are development skies, when you get down to it, impossible really to bless you with. You have to do it yourself.
Now the road’s all open for you to do it yourself. Who does it for you? No, not the divine and certainly not the soul. It doesn’t take your will from you, but it empowers your will with keen advice, the knowledge to do it right. The most hidden part of the spiritual path, they rely on your own will the changes you make. Willpower takes force as the door, and there’s no way around this I’m sorry to say.
Actually, this is what you’re goin’ through, line your will up with God, will this, will that, in the loads of every day. Come on is this impossible? Impossibility seems, and as many times as you fall, there’s a stickler on your will. Never mind the philosophy, but you do come under a spell when confronted with your obstacle, your subconscious part, and until you overcome it, it will get you every time. Come out from under that spell, and you have grand guidance to do so, if you listen, if you get down that far, if you’re sincere. You’re not the messiah, hero. You’re just you doin’ it, a change of heart.
Have I found myself there? This is advice from the soul and my chosen divine, but you don’t have to believe in them. Every word of this is inner made, and mastery I call on you, here in bed with my dog, around the house, inner in an outer state. Even outside the story goes, walkin’ my dog or ridin’ my bike, inwardly concentrated on the outside see. No neglect is there. I’m not spaced out, and that car hit me on the sidewalk, where I was legally bound. It carried the liability. It was a fault. I didn’t fill inner guidance on the road. I was never spill my lines on the way to work in that particular journey, the day I get hit by a car. I just got attacked by dinjinns, and that sucks.
It was an emergency officer, let me go unprotected for the dinjinns to do it. I have more poems to ride. You’re hearin’ one now. A cashier at Walmart is so outwardly tuned, concentrated on customers all the time, too much talking for inner silence. And let me spill this again: I am inner guidance on your roof, and you’re gettin’ the tall of it, everything written down to get you started, to get you goin’, to help you along the way, to confirm your own found it there, the inner path all along. It’s a long poem, for the serious in mind, heart, for those who want to know. You got a minute?
I’m a chaperon really of your budding spirituality. Anyway, let’s get this show on the road. There is will down. You have just go to pick it up, and it’s a fence worth, not everything in the sky. These are the teachings of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo and their yoga put into practice, written down for daily use, in the order of appearance in the skies of time. What a freeway, huh?
I went overtime to make this a complete yoga book in first time hands, or to give old timers a way out of their dilemma. You must pardon my shimmerin’ moon, the spearpoints of my stars. The sun doesn’t talk yet it just looks, and changes the whole field. We are on the road to Supermind if you want to know the truth, the divinize everything, and we moon to get there from the house of soul, but it doesn’t talk to you, the immortal Supermind, nor do you worship it. It rides you along the itineraries, and there it is in the sun in vision. Clouds around it some, or is it full force?
Can you see that far? And here we’ve begun. Pretty dog, sometimes you are your dog. How to communicate the road to master? Do you see the sea salt? You’re not always made clear, but it’s a hell of a ride to stick your life to, so unboring, so very real.
Why would you just want money to spend on things? Why would you want to get along life without it, the challenge of a lifetime? Why would you want to be dumb, stupid, and mean, when you can have the sun, moon, and stars? Tell me now, what is this advice within my head that visits you in my bed? Ah, a dream I think but oh so strange. I give all the name of the game, lights on yoga if you tell the truth, and there we are.
I didn’t put any bowel movements to get you to this beauty. I didn’t piss all over myself, but I sure didn’t leave anything out that gets our goat talkin’ about. I’m not embarrassed to say the creeper, the thing we can’t handle, because it’s too impolite. I talk you there, where the knots are, and that’s you untie them, and I am a power yoga there, if you see I’m speakin’ from truth I’ve fortified with my own two bare hands. You’re gettin’ my yoga, and I’m not at all ashamed to say I’m well on the way. Do you hear me boys and girls?
I am very pleased. Let’s get started or begin again. Let’s get well on the way, a sadhana you do tomorrow that’s here in your hands today, 24/7, all along the rollercoaster, and you got that right, a touch of God. We are endeavor to learn two birds in the hand are worth two in the bush. It’s not all spiritual experiences. It’s not even that you seek. Center on the divine in everything you do, the divine above all else, the divine in your living room. You will get to the One eventually, the Mystery behind all, the divine in everything you do.
Road speak I’m sad. Gotta get your compass out and slow down. The goal is ever the goal. Do you know what I mean? It’s a ways beyond anything you’re doin’ now, until you are Gods on earth, literally, in the sky and on the ground, the change to Supermind as it rides Earth. Is that a thousand years from now? Every week brings us closer to the goal, and you look at it that way, as the sun rides your life a happenin’ now. Can you go up there to it?
In great moments you’re there I’ll let you diagnose. Did you get out of the universe and be up there within it? Did you ride the sun? Where is that at in manifestation Earth? You are grounded you know in the impossible, and you ever ride the sky in the ways of God, when your manifestation is true to Earth, and wow this poem is, and yeah stupid me, I get lost in corners, but I do certainly get out. I can sacrifice my way out of anything, as I glide by. I can get out of trouble, the representative creature that I am on a representative planet in a symbol universe. You see my Winnebago?
And you’re there beyond time, and that’s not in the wood. Now, you see where we’re goin’? We’ve already been there. It’s where we come from, and we’re bringin’ that down here, divinize the Earth and sun, the finite one up there in the sky. Hercules, and we give that man his name. It’s a golden endeavor, a supramental endeavor we surrender to all our days.
Now do you have the rulebook? There is none. It happens as it happens, a different road for each one, something beyond rules and step by steps, and that’s the hardest thing in the world for the human being, likin’ the simplicity of the animal, likin’ his way of life, the dumb run. We’ll get there anyway, despite ourselves. It is spoken. It is inevitable. I’ll see yah on the road, okay?
Alright, this poem continues with your sadhana where here I do mine, right there, where we fall asleep. Take it from me, if you have the patience to hear a poem all night long. I do, and this writin’ too. It’ll make one offer: passive who you sittin’ in the burden of your life. Hear on me here, and that’s a hell of a sadhana, so answer divine. There is no other way up surrender all you keep, and you’re on your road through time, and you have the strength to get out, and it’s right there comes spiritual experience, the flexity to let it happen it’s so startling down here you know.
Good, let’s grow up. See that coming. It will tear you up, and you will get up and move on, anything that happens, anything that does. Can we put the strength of this poem in your hands, inside the river have your coming days? I’m afraid you have no choice but to do it yourself, whatever you find, wherever we go. Is that so alarming? Okay we may have to learn calamity stakes, a much harder road than now. Don’t say okay life come and show me what you got. I’m sayin’ you’re lookin’ for the divine, come what may, whatever happens. You got that road? You got that life?
Supposed to take care of it that negligent divine. Alright already, you’re in here, in a blessing packet now. Ah, go ahead and set up. Well you can shut up. Thank you reader. See there the power you have? The emergency ever arrives to thought, wherever it’s mutilated. We’re done here. Makin’ true that’s all. I apologize for getting so mad this morning. I had no food, and that food arriving, and you turned it into some grasshopper’s umbrella complication 3 and surgery. They will be taking pictures if they can at Walmart. Look it’s mine too. It’s nice of her, gas keep the phone to its tours airs on the screen, as the Spirit ignores you, in noise jokes around, at my expense. I end it here. That’s it.
There’s fence of good people to, the limits of your attention recognize. Oh my warm God, I give you credit out of the parking lot. The pursuit of the unbearable, what was lost in God to front the Unknowable. The action of the divine mother put all in place, gave name to form and helped me to abode in peace, but I am lost in this fathomlessness so greatly surmise the world, and I love my dog. How greatly that turns the world, the boundlessness of love. It’s patient sitting the works of the divine mother and giving you a poem, formlessly and one honey puppy.
Denies all a great eye of nothingness. The great eye of nothingness doesn’t exist. A great eye of nothingness shut off. The enclosure, no thank you, I will not man nothing, put that on my brain, or go anywhere with it. Do you know how tall this is? Outside of the enclosure of the universe. There we are.
Sad or bored, now it’s the hidden sun pulling those habitats from my eyes into my very joy not confined in anything. Any new answer to bring the world in peace, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. I’m not gonna force it. I’m gonna take the bus, come out of the top of my head, stoppin’ tonight right now.
Yeah we get there, just above the head, where the consciousness stays, the seat of consciousness. You’re a consciousness now (I was lookin’ around), inviting Supermind down. This gets scared. Where did I put it? I put it where the poem ends, where the vehicle ends takes you to see these things, and there you are.
To the next war, to the next tree, you gotta try to find this. It’s the one safety frees us from all harm. What did you do? I sat the captives free. Hear about it, it turns you on, transcendence. What a sun scratching child, I just can’t get into algebra. He’s going to get seconds, and there’s moooore, moooore. [sing last two lines]
Are you up the down staircase? You see this as where we came from. There is another bill, and these paragraphs says personal city. The lantern was a collective whole. We’ve lit up the chasm of the Abyss, brought consciousness down there, the great scout, so the Real in the apparent form brings a new Earth, and Supermind descends into its creation, and we bring home here. Put your shoes on people, I’ve shown you the way home. We need to find the most names excited by thrill seekers. I thought I’d pass this on to everybody. Understand my science revolutionary? You get me dog?
Thunderstruck, it looks like, I’ll do it bitterly and sweetly: I’m actually heard. You wanna working stiff not a poet in the rafters, and I just wanna be left alone and do my stuff in a poem. Okay I’ll see you again soon with another poem from the rafters. You’ve got it on your whistle I don’t have to get in front of that cash register and Walmart the world away. I can’t write a lick of poetry caught up in that crowd. It’s grocery lists and item buys, throwin’ myself out on the public lane when gettin’ home and tryin’ to get my silence back.
A day off I’ll do it, but that’s work, work, work, you know? Along with the cookin’ and what else, constant dog care and what else, and I do like the sunshine on a winter’s day sittin’ and bein’ nice to myself, unguarded moments of ease, readin’ and whatnot, seein’ the football game end, maybe a movie or two, or doin’ nothin’ in my arm chair, sweetin’ up the day with that, what gives rise to poetry I have those seraphim thoughts, and I have the freedom to do that, basically, I don’t work for the Man in those loud modes, can’t get a concentration done on anything of silence.
Now all these days off, I’m in a poetry slam, really, really intense, and I’m gettin’ right down on the fingers of society go for the throat of society right in its needed change, least I run off before you put me back to work in some menial job poetry can’t land there. I gotta eat you know, help Douglas with the bills— there’s Donny.
Can someone please help me to a poet’s worth? Big bathroom I think. Is that North Bergen, Dallas or Ashburn, Judgment Falls, the Bible states, all these fields on earth? North Fort Worth, go back there and see me alive and not doin’ a thing wrong, all ye people, all your self-satisfied lives, all you lives lookin’ for somethin’ you ain’t got. Could we like, uh, rock n roll?
This is just the price of oil comin’ to that place it heed dollar. Here’s it’s talkin’ about let’s get this show on the road. I’m good at it, givin’ yah for all it’s worth writin’ poetry to today’s mind, interestin’ to all these people at the edge of the world. You don’t read like you used to. Now, where did poetry go? Right here, a new style to play a part today you ain’t never seen before.
ChatGI, that stupid free course, that wrong imitation, will it sum up the world and put meanin’ in it, direction and path, all on the nodes of man it gather out in the world from its own experience? Will it put meaning together like this, like a paratrooper? Will you give credit to human language genuinely done by where’s poetry come from since it came out of our mouths, the honest to God muse of poetry, the real thing? Man I’m talking to you.
Present turn to your dinner. Oh ah, lift up your eyes and eat. Came over and bring that Nithish I am trying to school, that 14-year-old and poet. His poet, that 14-year-old boy, can you bring him here to me please from India? Can you just send his poetry along to the world too? Nithish’s blog top of the page. We have Spirit together. We can ask do you need anything today? You need children put rightly, the greatest need in the world. He’ll tell you that in his poetry, and when a kid sings it, you’re likely to hear it. I can just ask. You’re just ready to put me in the trashcan, but why him? Thank you, my boy’s blog.
Not curry for free, we spiritual mastered together. I am his teacher, his grandfather and best friend. I raised him a good portion of his childhood, and he’s home with me. I was there the night he was born at the hospital. You know what that means: I didn’t find him as a sex tourist. He’s my kid, and that’s his whistle with me, all along time.
We’re good together, like a racehorse, like a freight train. I gave him God shoes. That he puts them on and becomes a think tank himself, we do that duty, and he is high and mighty in my life, and I respect his every mood, but I don’t get off on him. He’s sacrifice. He’s work. We identify with each other so naturally and sweetly you would want him put over here with me. Now that’s standard dress, and we have work to do together you know, and that’s all folks. That’s everything. I love that little boy.
The sun has molded itself to itself in high glass clear. In special light we’re there. Image the sea. He has the showed the higher consciousness makes them embrace in this paper. Oh yeah it’s horrible you’re too loud to read it. Another note: I have a glance in that spiritual presence I know the meaning of, scheduled car to enter enlightenment. Been here. Social it and do me a favor. I am right now holding your hand. Would you be pretty enough to see that? Right on time let’s go outside.
The explosion and the scary, I’m not sure it’s fathomable. Beings of a wider, higher consciousness drew near. There’s a you for months other than me. I don’t like the fallout. Go under more long than strong. I think I see enlightenment’s booty. Being take a look at it band aide all day. I learn to abide consciousness shears. When the public enters your mind those origin. It’s profound the crowd. Eww, catalyst we really fit ourselves. And why would you do that? Dream after dream after dream right here in your notebook. Got to know there on Sunday’s farm. There’s a dumplin’. Origins delivers. What is that mode? The diamond, the windows shear and pure.
Enlightenment what’s your number? Why not? What does a guy lose? Just give me a second. I’ll do some scheduling, and it’s done. I’ve opened it. Let’s have some fun. We go public, think like the hurricane. When I say that now the public mind doesn’t believe it. The noosphere it lets you on the rafters visiting human thought, and that’s a big puppy.
View our progress someone touches me it gets out. What have you done? The sins the day will kill you with, break a leg. Oh, it’s your past. Can we step in line see forgiveness? That’s done it I know the meaning of my sins, and I have repented from them. I don’t do them no more, and this takes the icing off the cake. I’m not the only one bonded by my sin, and I can’t make up for you here. You have no other way but punishment. I’m not going to confess a dime. I’m not going to let you have me. I will make the journey to make up for what I’ve done. I will do that.
I will, when those two, when life and death talk roads, when the inner consciousness itself reaches people inside so much healing done, so much love. Movin’ robotics, there was the whole system of this legal system. You can’t just leave it. That happen. We stop prison planet. We stop it completely and a few other places we punish people for their disease.
I’m a view that in person. I heal, and it’s all I can do. There’s a factor, the power of love. We have that stuff, and I’m a hologram for it. Grand it put there hey I love you. Will do scrubbin’ my feet here all along. That’s the tension hunkered down as you read my poem. I’m alive on you. I’m not neglecting you. Perfect, let’s go home.
Let’s get movin’, shall we? Let’s get on with it, the magical life on the road in splendid skies. We really get out. We really get out of prison. You take care now. You take care of yourself. So long, you have a good day. So you note it by yourself, put divine muse, divine lawyers.
What’s new in the swamps of Michigan and forest? We have really decided his paper broadcast America. Rebelled some. [pronounced rebel’d] I didn’t limit alcohol to its dispensary. I didn’t get drunk either, but I rode alcohol to give me some beer to separate some pain and some ease. It made me feel good, but that’s no problem. I drove the winnebago I’m normal waking consciousness down by the grass feed. It’s right up here the substance of my day. That’s her fault, yeah the divine mother. She told me this mornin’ that everybody’s supposed to of God, but if they’re not at the beach, feel, feel, feel, what condition my condition was in [two above lines sung to tune of the beginning of “Just Dropped In”], ascended joy, a rising ecstasy. It is precision jewelry.
There would have to be patience to break the rules, not indulgin’ matter to a ritual pattern, but you just break loose every now and then, ease up on the controls and take down your hair. Let’s get now you don’t do that to harm anybody, and you don’t get drunk if you’re an alcoholic harmin’ yourself. Normal waking consciousness, it lifts your road, dangnabbit. Wait this is beauty’s skies, and here you are. I’ll let you promise we’re good keepers here the clear portal of consciousness. Substance driven, we lose our way. In highs there’s a held up they use as a camera we don’t even know is there, the monsters of the deep. There’s a platform here I know it. Psychedelics, you know it, that big joker. That settled anarchy tribe, well they can bring spiritual experience in sittin’ very well prepareds. Good God hallelujah, you can’t make rules about anything You got my winnebago?
Blitzin’ to get this damn show on the road. Oh my grand family, do we just kill each other, or have a moon? I’m not gonna pay a lot for this muffler. Where did that come from? That’s a conservative. You will spend your whole life. I don’t get it. Your old life is gone. Everything’s a portal of sadhana. Nothin’ gets left out. The concentration goes everywhere, every minute puttin’ that veneer on everything, on to it: I am concentrating on the divine in everything I do, think, and be, because it’s right in front of me whole and ready-made. Just remember that veneer continually more, a bunch of times during the day, until the representative consciousness comes in your mode of thinking, being.
I’ve described to you the sadhana that will get us out of here and get us out of suffering, the sadhana you do every day. You do sadhana in the heartwood of everything, and watch it change your life. Thirty years is nothin’ you’re figurin’ results. This changes the world. Your change gets it there.
Oh the pancakes, there is the Great Smokey Mountains National Park. You can’t let your dogs there. Unbelievable. I’ve got a Rottweiler. You, you can’t do it, travel your dogs up the road in a spiritual change. What does that mean? You’re learn the rules won’t get yah there. Some doggy might. Toasted let’s go home, dogs or not.
For your feet that do yah. Absolutely it’s free people. Better, I just found out people are gettin’, they’re gettin’ better. The freedom’s come ‘ere, it’s your choice. Peter’s cookin’ the thought Heaven. It’s a little too big. The first chappal you sent, I got promoted on the state park, backfishin’. Here I am giving things. A quarter your visitors for dogs, got it set up. Yeah next week I’m gonna eat. I got so much cookin’ where infancy changes the world, but I made it out of there alive, and I used that to open my consciousness far and wide.
My mom was around all the groceries in one battle. Peanut butter, she slipped it into her mouth and sucked that little thing. The consciousness that rules orgasm, I got ruled from birth, all my toddler years. Oedipus hits the Sphinx, and fuck it let’s get on with it. It’s a ticklin’ notion comin’ in on my playground a devil with red eyes, the horrendous history of abuse. I saw it sittin’ there all over the table, that dog-dragon with red eyes (imaginary playmate hell), grinnin’ as my mom supped. I was openin’ consciousness early on. I bought you transcendence. Now do you believe me?
Up to an American geologist an alarm went off. To a doctor, violently lets in the poem. So I was messed up on you just can’t get out of the mundane to see the Real, can you? Unbelievable your pittance. Can you create a star? I wash over it, sit and face the truth, ch-ch-ch-ch-changes. [sing last two lines to tune of “Changes”]
When I’m giving that to Walmart’s eye I have a saying: you’re going home. [says reader at the same time I say it] I’m going home. Sharing real life on the clock looks like we found each other. We went a special forces team. In bounds you change a woman, a man, a single body like before. There’s another person, the whole. Yeah, you have the impossible dream. Sorry kid, that one, I have it. I have my hands on it today, located in the heart of the night people are moving, in my drawers, and the platelets of man. I have the energy to see myself one with the sewing machine, and I car to land’s end. That close by the apple we got knowledge on. Did not put down the biggest one, the fruit of the tree of the unknown, where we become God on earth livin’ in man, the paradise of our inner state, the manifestation on our outer. I do not neglect immortality in a rainbow body par none I change into again. Houston come on, that’s Heaven man halleluja, amen.
Glory halleluja, where the poem ends, The Love of Yoga it’s called, for apes and further humans apin’ me in the rainbow. Fall all over yourselves readin’ it. I don’t know what to say. Look, there’s God, God on earth.
We believe the magic’s made out of Choctaw and wood. Join it on the open air, and uh, a poet all together mountain, burnin’ here background check, ridin’ high forward, rumblin’ with redneck, he gets his point across. They hear him at the Astrodome. They hear him on Soldier’s Field, well an American poet at the rafters of his craft poetry. I mean they actually know’d he published a poem, everybody concerned with such and everybody that don’t. I rub myself on the land right there at that smellin’ spot, hallelujah, ruff, ruff. Beautiful, ain’t? Amazing landfall, the shouldering down of American life, American landfall.
The Dalai Lama in Auroville, 1993, putting in the foundation stone for the construction of the Tibetan Pavilion there. In a speech afterwards, he said, “You can be a believer or an unbeliever…, but there is no choice between being a compassionate or non-compassionate person.” Photo courtesy of The Auroville Adventure
Did you know an Aurovillian won’t read this, no matter what I do? These are tough shares. Talk about hang in the water all in yoga. My cousin slapped my mother. It’s hard to believe such anxiety. Let me muscle you at, heart poundin’ in my ears.
Let me say that again. Oh boy, you wouldn’t believe it. These are in heartbeats that you don’t know to measure the light of the sun. I wish I could come down to a heart in my living room the Shambhala success magic. I cannot spray this in numbers. The heart central has to be the case. It’s dog eat dog otherwise.
Where do I put this compartment? In everything I do and breathe. It can’t be left out. You regard everyone as potential shares. You can’t stop evil among you with the ball and chain. You can’t just keep it from happening with everybody’s suspicions.
You have to rise to the occasion and also consider the bad man. What does he need to do to change? Can he do that among you? Yeah, people just want him gone.
There’s somethin’ I can’t get across over here. If you wanna create Shambhala, you have to envision his place among you healed and changed. Shambhala is the perfection of humanity where Auroville is. You have to rise above yourselves and do that.
You will not even listen to the change. You have closed your hearts and ears to a peaceful man among you who is poeting this change. How can it leave out the community, the bedrock of the change?
You know it would speak to it drum rose people. It would have the imprint of the divine sounding poetry’s worth. Terrible is it?
I come from another land. I do not meet the world it’s a thing out there and I’m a thing in here. / Those lines have been drawn, and they are wiggly now. I meet the world inside myself. In the substance of my vision something is wrong. The world is not a normal train ride, and my thoughts don’t take me there. I see the substance of vision it’s all acres of That, the substance of the show. You wanna know the gist of it? It comes to oneness.
Now bake my bread I’m normal, nothing special to look at, just another person to be around. Now test my feet I’m normal. I get angry laugh and cry. I can give you an argument. My difference is my hands on you. I’m lookin’ at the One starin’ back at me.
This is so real to my eyes my hands collaborate this. I am in your field of vision, and my that hurts, if I even make you feel bad. I don’t wanna do that, and this is strong stuff to prevent me.
Are you an alien on that? Have you reached the divine in vision? Do you know how to heal the sick, and they are not sick in body they are sick in hands, and their actions hurt the world, rob the community? How many times we said we needed that, heal the community?
This is a frog suit. I’m lifted out of the water until I cry. I mean I have to come up and record lines. Do you get the picture back and forth? I’m hearin’ these lines in inner vision I’ve developed over a lifetime. You hear the sauce now all Sri Aurobindo’d, the Mother’s guidance please.
Here’s the thing. It changes consciousness. The world grabs you in this. You see signs everywhere. You’re walkin’ hand in hand with the divine, but that’s not the beauty of it. It’s soundin’ bodies way out in front of you the substance of their mystery crayola figures of That, and it dawns on you it’s peeling you through everything, and will you get a load of that? The invisible ties connects us. Wow, I’ve just shored everything.
The Prime Minister, Shri Narendra Modi at the great Banyan Tree in Auroville on February 25, 2018. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and the Prime Minister’s Office (GODL-India)
From the paths of the Alone, if it’s any consolation, I alone this to you, the next lesson cheerio. The heart of Auroville is the banyan tree establish the Earth oneness drive everything. The Infinite of days, things are stepped back, exploded on the scene: I hate this bible; I have a schoolbook to cram down your throat, the rules and regulations; I just wanna have fun. The voices chorus. Just leave my damn trees alone and my vegetables— I’m sustainable Auroville. I’ve got some rocket science get yah, a whole lot of Sri Aurobindo— the Mother’s disciples’ Auroville.
It’s a land grab right in the heart of the city, and then the government comes in and makes you disciples of her all the way to India that’s the tower we find. It makes you want to pull up stakes, the whole registry. A failed experiment has come apart on itself. You can’t get there from here. You can’t even try. You just sit and wait for another dawn.
Where do we go wrong? The goodwill to continue. It doesn’t hurt anybody. It doesn’t seek them shame. It’s taller than a government and is not about right of way. It has no agenda to sell you at the expense of itself. It’s charitable to everybody, even the weak. It has no bad man. Goodwill lifts him out of that. It’s good to everybody.
The fundamentals of goodwill started this place, and all this was hijacked early on and has led to today, a fractured Auroville. Policy glows in goodwill, is meant for the right change, and it glows on our vegetables. People’s particulars glow in goodwill to come right themselves. This is not known among you? If you see the fruit you see the tree. Goodwill governs all, and that’s where we land Auroville to come back to itself. Are you going to fight this? Are you going to make it mean?
The heart collapsed, the heart of Auroville. It puts lunch in children’s boxes and go all over India. Get to every place on earth, the Auroville plane. This trap is completely in our noosphere, such is the spirit of this endeavor, the daunting human-wide of Auroville.
You’ve blocked me with anger and ill will from the anger and ill will in the very pocketbook of Auroville, the poet of your gifted change, the poet sent here to warn you. Just come and govern everything with ill will, is this just your blindness or your willful stance? Time of death, is that the lesson of Auroville?
This is the form of the divine. I report that they are only satellites. It's all fences regarding the sun. We can’t get at that meat in the matter. It’s too broad-minded you, and you will not meet us there. I cough this up now a poem rose in certain straits, but I’m not in a tin can. The availability of truth is relative to the participant, but I tell you sincerity guides my house. It’s what I lean on. I can get closer to the truth, but will you meet me there? Will you even try?
Oh my goodness Auroville, that’s the study sheet, that’s what we make our daily rounds: ever widening to the truth, ever widening to contain it all, to stand at last on higher ground, to get there, the reason Auroville was made. We localize human divinity here, and that is ever the strength now.
I attempted to send this poem via email to recipients in Auroville, but my email ID was blocked. I’d sent the previous poem on this blog, “The New Business”, to all the addresses that blocked this one. This poem and the previous one made the secretary of Auroville, Jayanti Ravi, mad, and she got me kicked out of India over it, personally.
I couldn’t come from the city according to our needs. A oneness organization, that’s the start of it, the city the Earth needs. The walls are coming down, it’s where we begin. This is the largest city in Heaven, and it’s expensive to live in.
How many people protect themselves from the Infinite? How many people have bibles they won’t cross thresholds with? They can’t get out of the Book or this Name says. They can’t plant infinity there, and they argue and bicker among themselves about it, the rulebook says.
Am I just a hedonistic paradise? I sacrifice even my thoughts to the divine and live a simple life to prove it. I don’t cut down banyan trees. I sit together with everybody there, and I know hard work, and I know rest and play.
I love God, and that is my first priority, not the God of this man says, the God of the banyan tree. I have seen God’s eyes staring back at me in everyone’s. I can pet a dog and feel that, rub a cat.
I am about the mountain in springtime. I know how to address the world: oh my God I love you. I have seen fire and rain, and I changed my life because of it. I no longer hurt people or cause them pain. I draw the lines everywhere to prevent that. I know the meaning of sacrifice. It’s how my thoughts meet the world. It’s how my hands meet the day.
I am an Aurovillian comes theoretically, and I shout this to the Earth. I will get bigger than my kind. I will transform consciousness inside into our greater type. I will give birth to divinity on a collective field, and our hands will salt the Earth with its great and needed change, and I am here my friend opening doors for you that you may walk through them. Auroville will you hear me? Auroville can you feel that looking?
This poem was emailed to many Auroville email addresses, most all the principle leadership bodies, and it was the object of an art action on Sept 3rd and 4th, where I and Mithun taped and tacked it up on bulletin boards and walls around Auroville and on banyan trees in the township, or it was just handed to individuals. This is the performance art a recent poem, “The Diamond”, mentioned, before, I might add, there was inkling on my part to do any.
This poem and the preceding one made the secretary of Auroville, Jayanti Ravi, mad, and she got me kicked out of India over it, personally.
Yes sir those beasts are mine. Whoa, whoa, whoa! I’m a mustache fan, Johnny B. Goode. Don’t put out the secret to the universe. Move seeds, the intersection of whoever we are.
A bird from the passing by of the ships, cosmic order, it’s got esoteric wings, and you’re mesmerized. This locks you in the sky. It holds your hand. It laughs with children in the moments of their cats and dogs. It belly rubs and takes you on a journey to the stars, where it’s made.
It don’t just turn you on. We go to the transformation of society, another name for Supermind. You see its location on earth, right above you, where the heart meets the sky. On somebody’s shoulders this love. He is your friend in infinity, with a special clarity seeing that you know he’s witnessed, and he carries you there in the sweet hands of children, and let’s make it clear: never bleed a child or give them suffering to wear. They change the world into how they’ve been handled.
We have no idea how hands on this is, how intimate and caring, and how it makes or breaks our world. It’s the entranceway to spiritual change and the transformation of our world. It’s big stuff.
You hear it at noon. Wait a minute, and it will be all over the skies. It’s the role we need to see. We’ll be there tomorrow, when we use the internet for great things, examine the formation of society and not just complain about it, make its engines reformat the world and to better even for fishes and a safety net for trees, into loving homes and spiritual change, holding our cats and dogs dearly, what we week today.
Do you like the sound of that? It’s comin’ on your muffler now. Share this piece of music if you want the times to wear it on the holiday of our ideas, the special occasion we need to see them with. Share these thoughts to your largest room, and that’s where we find tomorrow if you want a better world healing papa and beautiful with her children momma. Share this video on the way to our ship.
How I believe in you, and I’m not stupid aren’t I? Getting results, it’s in your hands now. The best days are yet to come. I’m cookie honest with yah. We ride children to our goal. We’ll figure it out.
80’s little horror war, what threw away? The administration of Auroville. It was surrendered to the government without even a care, and we lost our autonomy that way, at the toss of a dice, and the government rolled in.
Are you countin’ India to allow human unity to take over? What was the village thinkin’ in removin’ The Sri Aurobindo Society from the scene? Can we grasp Sri Aurobindo? The Society doesn’t, and it will block you to this day if you disagree with them. What was the Mother thinkin’ givin’ the township to this obviously irreverent crowd to love and compassion on earth and human unity.
Stupid me, stupid you, we excuse her for it, but this is the mistake that baked the day and ruined Auroville. Can anybody look at this? If ever a mistake was made here was one, and now we’re supposed to take her every word as gospel, as if she made no mistakes?
Where has she been all these years watchin’ it fall apart? Is she comin’? Yoga relies on inner seeing, if it’s got the content of its worth. I’m not talking about intuition, your intuition says this, your intuition says that, in a gut feeling, no matter how you describe it as the opening of the day.
Inner seeing’s a gut worth’s no. It’s concrete formulas laid out in time, spoken word, revealing vision, or the dream maker putting together the house for you so you can see it. That tells you where it’s at. When I entered the yoga I picked up the Mother right away in dream and vision, her signal loud and clear. That was in Auroville the first time.
She was not proclaimin’ to me her gospel, her avatarhood. She was puttin’ sadhana together for me it’s a sunny day. What made it so difficult, I just knew hell had entered my birth and would not let me go. What difference she made when she came on board. You couldn’t tell it from the outside for so long I’m ashamed to say. Look at that to Auroville. Can you gauge her time?
I’ll tell yah the Indian government can’t. Nor can it see spiritual vision or uses it to make decisions, spiritual vision as in seership, not a quote you pull out to prove your point. We are left with the Indian government in charge of Auroville, refueling the Mother’s words with their agenda, purposefully pulling her out of the picture by putting her in it the mouthpiece they wore.
You can see it happening. You just think the Mother’s responsible for it, but she did not ordain this, nor the government taking over when the Auroville Act was signed. How do I know this? I’m an inner seer, and we always live on the outcasts of time. Way out there, we question everything is this the divine?
I sit on your bench, okay? I’m a hologram holocaust survivor, and I can say my own name. I love the Mother because she saved my life and protected me all these years. I know the strength of her word, her teachings. They have held my hand for so long, but what she taught me you can’t find in a book, not even hers. Deities make mistakes, and avatars ruin, and in order to change ourselves we must see that to understand what we’re up against.
The whole paradox of creation comes down upon our head when the actual change comes about, to keep it from coming about, and you can hightail it and run back to Houston, or you can bear the impossible. A stallion of waves stampede, and you’re just everybody, and no wave can block your tide. My deep thought Auroville, can yah folla me here?