Friday, August 15, 2014

Issue 3

(The material in this issue is by the editor)

Table of Contents

  Definition Freedom
  The Average Person
    An essay

  The Pupil and His Divine,
  A Harmony in Five Measures
   A poem

  For Freedom
  A song (music video)

                                                                                                                                                  
                                                                                                                                                  




Definition Freedom
The Average Person
 (Reminded Human Beings Aren’t Socially Protected,
Littul Kittons Now Man’s Consciousness,
We’re Not Here For the Pack)


Video view editing and confirming is a firewall.
[vision of this as a message on the computer screen taking up the entire screen]
The film documentary of Graduated Sense.
Lemmie tell you something about my life:
I forgive yah not being able to talk.

Some mature policy
I salt at the bottom of the ocean,
The highest man down.
That’s a circle reference,
Guerrilla summery.
 “What’s the ID number?”
I was going to be a mountain cause of things,
An Apache arrow shaft.

                                           [today’s muse]

     The divine right of kings I challenge – how we grasped the idea freedom and what stood in its way when we began looking upon our scene in relation to our little liberty in it, unable yet to grasp the root of the tyranny, get it by the horns.  It’s not just a tyranny of rulers but of the average person, conformity to the group. You see, I’m in that most basic of conflicts, the individual at odds with their society, a person given a perpetual irrevocable outcast status, since by definition I’m not allowed in polite company.  Although the sentence has not been handed down in my particular case, not at least yet, society states in its contemporary mores that a minor attracted person cannot be unsupervised around anyone under 18, alone out of the question entirely, not in every society on the globe, but the push is to make it so, and when that’s applied in human terms you can only be around people under restricted conditions, no children present, or, if they are, everyone is watching you, and so you are for the most part and in most people’s eyes, an untouchable.


     You are that not only because of the restrictions but also because you’re hated by everyone that knows you are a minor attracted person (who are not likewise hated), save for a handful of people. (I’ve discovered there actually are a few people that do have goodwill, for everybody, as occasionally I run across such a person, not usually the official part of any page; their kind consideration is left in a comment like someone leaves a rose.)  Hatred’s a thing of degrees, not most times the red hot variety, and most often hatred is expressed by the method of making a ghost out of someone who’s done something wrong, not speaking to them, pretending not to see them when looking directly at them, a method developed by cavemen to deal with their outcasts, pointing out the primitiveness of such social behavior. A minor attracted person has a unique position in society: you’re the single kind of person it’s socially acceptable to hate, not to have to give the time of day or even any consideration at all, not to have to view as a fellow human being with basic rights.

     That hatred, combined with the restrictions placed on you, means you’re not even really allowed in humanity, or, if you are, it’s either by being incarcerated or incognito.  It comes down to I have no right to even be.  The conflict I have as an individual with my society is that most basic right, to exist, and other than the citizen society kills as a retribution for a crime committed, my conflict is about as enigmatic and problematic as it gets, understanding (a capacity few possess in regards to minor attracted people) that you don’t chose to be attracted to minors like you don’t choose to have autism (drawing an analogy and not making a connection between the disorders), and like autism, to learn to live with that attraction and be a fit and functioning member of society, society has to make it a point to let you in, and like the integrated autistic individual, the minor attracted person can make their disorder an order society can use, not a burden become but a blessing.

       I’m trying to take this video into movie making itself, speaking figuratively of not only this present writing, but also of my life story, by it show what’s going on here, not only with me and my conflict, but get a glimpse maybe of the meaning of life itself, pasting it on the post of this outcast and all its gab and garb, in the body of the email, and my story would hit on so many social and errant notes it would tend to push open closed doors.  I’m trying to explain what it is I’m filming (figuring) – a fall, a redemption, a demonstration of process, that of the soul when it is physician –, the camera I’m using my PC, creating by it poems, essays, short stories, songs, videos, letters, journals, comments, a play, and a memoir yet in progress, all of which are attempts to both make some sense out of life and record and explain the movie My Life and its guest starring in yours, the sparks that have flown off of our rubbing together, a friction often painful for the both of us, but it’s my hope that those sparks will start a fire that burns up our strife and mistrust.

     A creative leap this, the form the form of the heroic, as opposed to the cowardly, where, mad at you, I either by gun, bomb, knife, or whatever weapon I can get my hands on, try to kill as many of the representatives of you as I can, or I just stand up where you caught me at it or where I think you won’t catch me and tell you in language ugly I’m going to be the unrepentant me regardless of how that hurts you, and to hell with you all.  But I’m not bowing down to your vilification of me either, your condemnation, as, though I am wringing my hands before you, this is no grovel, since I’m standing up to you and your irrational hatred of me, standing up too to Law, convicting it of being made more for the brute than for man.  I’m facing you with more than just my humanity; I’m facing you with my soul, showing it.  In doing this I take my example from you, society, from that brightest, best, and beautiful in you we call art and literature, here from epic poetry, and I’m mirroring the heroine Savitri of the poem of that name, who alone, by the light of her very own soul, squares off with Death and stands up to the universe, throws herself in the way of its driving wheels, and in so doing exceeds herself and changes forever the Eternal Laws.  I’m not going postal I’m going Savitri, savvy?

     That they are human laws I’m trying to change and neither divine nor eternal, it would seem my task the easier one, but I’m not a nectar cup of perfection as she, more the opposite actually, and I assure you when you throw in not only other people’s stubbornness to change but also your own, in human law you have an ignorance and arrogance that can maintain its own errant course it seems even in the face of divine will otherwise.  It might’ve made Savitri look back over her shoulder and lose the man, trying to change human law and not the eternal ones she changes, but I’d have to make a distinction here between that epic poem by Sri Aurobindo itself changing those laws and it being a blueprint for change, a textbook I’m using to ‘go Savitri’ right here with you.

     Yes try this one at home folks.  You wait until comes tomorrow, and suddenly there will be a way to stand up and say your side of the story like no one has ever told their story and maybe get a hearing with the world more on your terms than its, or at least on a more equal power-footing, since there’s nothing stopping it from sacking your home and stomping your life and liberty to death, nothing save, confronted with how the soul heals, a story that would make it stop, look, and listen, or, if it does surrender to its armed impulse born from its blind reaction to just stomp you in the ground, after the dust settles, and the light of reason shines in on the scene, the world would see its mistake, that part of it that does see reason.  That’s the gamble, and you won’t know if your story has that weight until you take it, but if you do it by the light of your soul you’re doing you own original work, a gamble unique to you that, win or lose, you’ve done what you’re supposed to do.

     What would you say to someone that wanted you dead? Say it wasn’t someone but your society itself, and you got the why and wherefore of somebody going Savitri in everybody’s face that looks in their direction, sort of like putting a rose there unexpectedly, if you like beauty.  This pretty’s homespun, got pretty by utility at home, changing ugliness into its higher counterpart beauty.  In this storytelling you got mixed in how to change being told, how to do it, or let it do you I should say, since this is a process of soul and therefore higher purpose, higher than human hands.  The story’s trying to stay as close to truth as possible, an impossibility actually, not that there isn’t an objective sequence of events – there is –, but that there isn’t an objective observer telling the story (and we’ve have to add: re-telling, the version that got heard), something not possible among us at the present time nor at any in the past, and for the future, let’s hope one day it will be, else we don’t graduate from this public-private school of little selves too self-centered to see the whole, if you have gotten that clear and certain sense in life that graduation is possible, what we’re moving to even if the sense is absent.  In this preschool  of souls I’m kind of ringing my hands and standing before you with this present writing and all I’ve created and will create trying to show you enough evidence of that soul and its conscious intervention in its person’s life, it and its divine, that most minds, save that of the mule-headed and fanatic, would hold that at least possible, if not even probable, something no one has done to any degree of satisfaction, and doing that never-been-done-before in a true story about the healing of a pedophile, this present writing his manifesto, the story standing behind informing it like my name stands for me and all I’ve done; likewise in the story behind this stands visible the bad in need of change, and there’s no other way it can stand if it’s to be changed – visible, what you have to make it, and dammit you’d have to.

     It’s precisely that we censor in whatever medium, the bad, the ugly, whether or not it actually happened in real life, the censorship based on revulsion and not on the rational observation of human living so to resolve it, and so based it usually tends to have the opposite effect in a society: it compounds the problem a hundredfold.  We censor it because we do not allow for error in society, and I’m speaking of the underlying attitude we hold towards it and most often address it in someone else, not the way we say we do.  The attitude is most visible in law and the way we apply it to human life, law being the institution of the management of error in a social context.  When the error is breaking a law, any law, and you get caught by the enforcers of it, you basically get the book thrown at you, prosecuted to the up-most extent of the law, not in every case, but in most, and the report that’s given to the public of your offense is usually a rebuke in the strongest possible terms politically correct for the clime and time, and we have another institution called the Press that does that public ‘stoning’ of the wrongdoer, that public humiliation, a means obviously society has developed to keep others from doing that, not one based on a rational reporting of the truth, that being what actually took place, outside and inside, but something told from a perspective based on that revulsion (count how many times the word shocking and other emotionally charged words get used).  Depending on the degree of your error, the public, or society as a whole, judges you, for a moment or a lifetime, unfit, a judgment usually based more on the revulsion than you being unfit or not.

     Yes I have been unfit, have done a lot of wrong, and I started out with the same trust society places in any individual until they break that trust, but I did not become fit, end my wrongdoing, could not, by society’s laws, by what it allows an individual in order to become trustworthy, its sole formula of crime and punishment based as it is not on healing, of the situation, the wrongdoer, or even the wronged, by the soul or otherwise, but on intolerance of error and of the wrongdoer, a basis which comes from the most fundamental error of both reasoning and vision upon which we operate as a society: human unity is not a clear and present fact of our social and individual existence but something we have to make up, a belief we have to adopt.  Even without a spiritual vision it’s an evident truth that we are a whole body, and when anything befalls a one of us, the lot of us must deal with the consequences on some level.  In other words, I am me but also at the same time at a distance you, and to be able to see that unity it’s just like if I have sex with a child, and they’re consenting and into it, and despite the propaganda otherwise some kids are more complicated and actually really do like it, I need to be able to see past the present moment, the pleasure, see past the pleasure too if any physical pain is mixed into it, and in adult-child sex some often is, and see how that kid will feel about the sex in the future as an adult, how that sex stunted their growth towards what it is an individual is here to do in life, which is to exceed themselves, their pleasures, their pain.

     Just like me having to see past appearances to see the harm I give to a child by giving a kid pleasure, see deeper than view, so too you have to look deeply to see the underlying unity not only between human beings, but of all the earth and sky and everything therein, a unity that becomes more and more self-evident the more conscious you become of your whole self, including your inner life, sleep and dream, which is where I discovered the harm I cause a child, saw it as plain as the nose on my face, though like the elephant in the room it took awhile to see – stubborn blindness another one of those fundamental errors among us.  In short, I saw sex with a child as the unflushed toilet it is.  That is to say it’s ugly, foul, out of order, a cause of moral degradation, not however the irreparable unpardonable evil it’s made it out to be today.  Since, on the inside I saw the unity, of it all, the child as me, the ugliness grossly neglected beauty, bringing into view here the 2nd most fundamental error in human society: being largely unconscious of a 3rd or 4th of what we experience in a day.  It is in the deepest keep of that experience I found my soul, discovered too, in sleep and dream, an intelligence so unboundedly creative and wise it’s what we mean to describe when we use words such as God or divine.  Opening my eyes on the inside opened them to what I’d been looking at on the outside and not seeing: oneness, God, everywhere the basis of reality, so much so this bitter-sweet experience called life, even when it’s a holocaust of the human spirit, is only skin deep, cannot dismember the unity, cannot slay the soul.

     A person wronged, be they a child or an adult, cannot heal by society harming in their name the one who harmed them, however much satisfaction it may give them to get revenge, and even a more restorative justice can’t if it forces a sacrifice upon the wrongdoer they are unwilling to make, harm an inherent part of the use of force, cannot because we are a whole and not isolated individuals as we appear on the surface, and the harm given to the wrongdoer is in essence the harm the wronged received, striping everything from harm save harm itself, and compounds the harm received, the very opposite of healing it, an impact that can be seen more readily on the inside than on the outside.  That is where the wronged would need to look so to heal and as well the wrongdoer needs to look so to gain the will to make it right, taking responsibility in light of the whole a self-sacrifice and not a submission to punishment, the difference being what you see me doing here, standing up with my PC a creative writer on the net at about the most intolerant moment one such a I could do that, I’d bet.

     Neither does society heal the situation, that one or all of that kind, by castigating or making an outcast of the wrongdoer, the one who caused harm, punishment a means useful for training animals and small children who have not yet developed the capacity to reason, when it is correction and not retribution, when it’s not a ‘reaction’ intent to hurt, vent, useful too, to a limited extent, in other situations not possible to generalize, understanding the dividing line between punishment as correction and as retribution is difficult to discern, but it is, I’d argue, what humanity used on its members in the dim days before reason became the leader of the life of the race, and to force that process forward perhaps, people by people, hence it’s regressive, born of the brute we were and not from what we mean to describe when we use the term man (what, I’d also argue, we have yet to fully become and can’t become by force of punishment).  Such harmful situations still plague us today despite the harshest punishments handed down, down through time.  Punishment certainly doesn’t heal the wrongdoer, something nowadays not even on the table so intolerant we’ve become of human discrepancy, it becoming so visible as it’s becoming by the light of the computer and the smartphone, since society doesn’t punish someone to help them, however much it says it does, but to make them, by force of public humiliation, torture, imprisonment, or whatever means, regret hurting society.

     Yes it’s true an individual won’t without society’s insistence stop hurting people, since it’s precisely the whole that needs to tell them to stop, the truth of things, the only thing that we’ll listen to if we’ll listen to anything when our nature is bent and we are hell bent on indulging it, but what form that insistence takes would have to be based on the unity and not on the erroneous view that the violator is an isolated individual that suffers alone being punished and/or made an outcast, would have to be based on healing, else we all suffer and will continue to suffer the harm of that and similar situations until we insist on healing, understanding, though, that you don’t take the attitude of Gandhi when he urged Great Britain to stop resisting the Nazis and let them occupy its beautiful buildings, since it wouldn’t have been just buildings they occupied, but they’d have tried to occupy the heart and mind of England itself, twisting it towards the evil the Nazi ideal tried to bend an occupied nation, towards totalitarianism, towards genocide.

     Obviously, in such a relative sticky world as we walk upon, wearing flesh so easily torn, carrying bones so easily broken, having so many of us walking around tearing flesh and breaking bones, causing every kind of harm under the sun, you’d have to use force to get someone to stop harming others if they refuse to stop, but in using force you wouldn’t trust the hands of hatred to do the work of correction – the spirit of that force would have to be healing for it to be the kind of force the situation calls for applied in the appropriate measure.  The spirit of self-defense alone would not be up to that task having as it does its eyes on protecting the injured party and not also on protecting the whole, protecting also as part of that whole the offending party as much as the situation will allow, and in the stickiness of such situations sometimes it won’t allow much if any at all, but a unified will has to be there to try, else too much force gets used and the wrong kind, what usually happens in these situations.  Of course not merely reacting is difficult to achieve, but what is it exactly that separates human society from other social animal species if not that we act by the light of reason and they by instinct and impulsive reaction?

     It is here we live or die, in that very question of just what is the difference between human beings and other animal species that occupy this overcrowded planet, since, if we act like animals, we’ll end up making this globe uninhabitable not only for ourselves, but also for many if not most other animal species such is the power we as animals have to reproduce, exploit the environment, and conduct war.  We have reason, and with that more is possible for us in terms of evolution, but we can employ our reason as animals would, for the greatening of their own band, or whatever grouping used to confront the world, which, with this current resurgence of nationalism and ethnocentrism, particularly in regards to religion and politics, we’re using it, or we can use it to exceed the animal that we are and become what reason can make us.

     It is with reason that the search for the soul can begin, and once it’s found, reason, with the light of the soul shining on it, guiding it, governing it, a light of compassion and understanding, understands that each and every one of us are as important as the other, the adult as important as the child, the latter in need of protection, though not from the need to make mistakes, but from the stubbornness to never correct them, and protection not so much from danger, but being a fool in the face of it, the bad citizen as important as the good one, the former in need of corrective-healing, though not being made to deny their nature, but allowed to get it in harmony with Nature so it no longer causes harm, the good of it kept and the bad discarded, which not in every case would it be a correction society orchestrates, since, if the soul is found, and allowed to lead (the two movements for such a stubborn me were separate in time), all the individual needs is the flexibility to allow it, on the part of all, the space and the support to heal, and the suspension of disbelief so to do so (a de facto arrangement in my case, since I was thrown to the wolves, but they didn’t eat me, just gnawed on me a bit then cast me aside where I could do nothing save give my soul its head so to survive), the evidence of that process, what removes the doubt over whether it is indeed a process of soul and not your ugliness having its day being a creativity coming out of that a beauty that can change even ugliness pretty (if you’re not too stubborn to see it), the good brought out of it as it’s being, what has been coming out of mine these many years in Auroville’s exile, a slowly rising crescendo rising in import, from “what is this?” to “take a look at this,” the final cut you’re getting now, I as important as you, though we’d both need to see that for it to become the law of the land, for us all to become man.

     I don’t think we really have the picture of how primitive we yet are, the human race itself in its totality, despite the humanitarian disaster we’re making of our world in our face daily, discussed ad infinitum.  It is the quintessential elephant in the room.  In part due to our intelligence reason has enhanced, making an ever advancing technology possible, in part also to our self-centeredness as a species, which makes us feel as if we are not a part of Nature but something ‘man-made’ that lives and moves upon it, either destroying or conserving it, we cannot seem to see even in our science we are indeed a social animal species not different in kind from other social animal species.  The difference is found in degree, the degree we can consciously evolve to become with our very hands what (when we espouse our higher ideals) we think we are.

     We ourselves are the problem, humanity as a whole, each and every one of us to a greater or lesser degree depending on factors we are largely ignorant of in the making of a person’s nature – how much is Nature, how much nurture, to what extent can an individual override either ? –, a measure we mistake for righteousness when it appears lesser, and it becomes self-righteousness, a cause of as much evil down through the ages as evil itself if the truth be told.  In terms of evolution we are yet brutes with our eyes almost exclusively engaging the outer scene, our feeding range, largely unaware of our inner life, save for our bound rounds of thought, eyes on our neighbor’s sin and not on where we rub the world wrong, since if lesser, lesser is so hard to see looking at only the outer scene (your dreams will show you the you you’re not too keen to see, the one as bad in spirit as the worst of us), eyes almost completely blind to the soul within, save as a belief of what survives death to either be punished in a hell or rewarded in a heaven, not as something that can be found in the midst of life, inside and over us, something conscious, whole, what informs us with what we feel best in us even if we haven’t found our soul, what mates our hands with our higher ideals when we do, it leading, the evolutionary leap that will make us man, further steps thereafter if your vision isn’t limited by horizons.

     It's in our very vision the problem of us lies, the cancer eating at the heart of society: eyes that conceive 'the other' not as part of one another.  Look at any one of us when hit in the quick of our stomach on things: reactionary, herd sour, and prejudiced against ‘the other’, social animals still in need of scapegoats to fortify the pack, give it venting avenues, a social need we also don’t fully see as a need in each one of us, and if you don’t believe me just look around and you’ll find your needed whipping boy, whoever it is that makes you mad the easiest, makes you react, and in your immediate environment it could be as beatable as the family dog, the point being it’s who you vent on, and in the pedophile, after searching down through history in race and religion and whatnot, society has found the foolproof universal scapegoat.

     While it’s a natural part of being a functioning member of a social animal species, that we define ourselves by our society, or what’s really the case, that we allow it to define us, tell us who and what we are and what the world and life are and what we’re to do in them, it’s more animal than man in that we have reason, which makes it possible for us to study and know not only our outer scene, our territory, but also our inner scene, turn our eyes 180° from our survival and investigate and explore our self and in so doing find our own personal inner truth, either confirm or deny what society has told us we are and are to do.  We are so wrapped up in the ready-made world we’re born into, so engrossed in our social selves, we hardly realize it’s not a world or self we’ve personally defined but have been taught and required to learn.  To question the foundations of society is to invite ridicule, and in some societies, most notably theocracies and communist states, persecution and imprisonment, but even in the democracies, if you publicly question the social paradigm, you come under surveillance and possible harassment so pervasive and intrusive is the ‘conforming eye’ becoming with the advance of our technology.  So captured we are by the social construct we not only blindly define ourselves by it but also are almost totally ignorant of the possibility of basing our life upon our inner truth or even that we have such a basis for truth, an inner as opposed to an outer authority.

     The inner life of man deeper than thought and subconscious dream, a place few look or even know exists, is the next frontier, the new world to discover.  How many of us, in what we call the ‘developed’ societies, when faced with a decision, look also to our inner life to make it, see what our dreams and visions show, or, if we are developed people, meaning in this sense self-developed, what a truly developed society would be, not technologically based but self-developmentally founded, aware of our inmost self as we are our outermost, hear or see the direction of our soul? Because in the shallows of the inner life there’s so much drift and bale, darkness even, what’s given rise time and time again to someone going crazy, or going off and killing everybody in the range of their weapon, or mesmerizing whole societies and turning them to organized madness, we fear the inside of us and do not encourage people to look in there, listen to those voices, believe in those visions, much less make the inner the guiding light of their life.  But read my muse, listen to my music, and see the light shinning inside of us, a harmonizing light that doesn’t have you abrogate the social construct but help make you shine within it, show what more is possible for individuals and societies to be (if you’ve reached that formless ground of the human soul, the wholly other, what we call spirit because it is so other, gone all the way through dream, the entire symbolizing storytelling of the creative reflex, and not just stopped at some good story, but even a good story has the power to change the world).  It does that harmonizing because it’s the light of the whole, wholeness individually centered, grounded on oneness.  Faced with such a disorder in the very heart of my social life, an attraction to minors I did not create nor want, and with such hatred and misunderstanding from all quarters, you left me with no choice but to delve inside and dive deeply, discover the deepest reach in us.  I found my soul.  I’ve left record.  Is it madness I’m showing you, or is it light?  If there is indeed light shinning deep inside of us, our very ground, conscious even, world-aware and of more than worlds aware, bright enough to move and guide us to be more and better than we are, then we need not fear the darkness.

     Just where it’d be on the scale of fundamental errors would be hard to pinpoint, since it’s as much of an obstacle to our growth as a race as not recognizing our unity, goes hand in hand with that fundamental ignorance as it does with that of our experience during sleep, of the possibility of finding our inner truth, but we seem to feel that any disturbance to the peace, comfort, and security of ‘our house’, our personal homes and the house of humanity itself, is an aberration to Nature, what should never happen, and we are so mortified and offended when it does, but, this is our house, this upheaval, this insecurity, this danger that continually besets it (at this half-animal stage of us at least).  The other animals, who don’t have one foot stepping into what’s beyond the animal, that embodied evolved ideal we feel when we feel our humanity, do not know they are evolving, are ignorant they’re here for more than mere survival and enjoyment, but even those of us who do not believe in evolution know that we are here to do more than simply live and have a good time.  That we have something to do here is in our very bones, atheists’ bones and theists’ alike, a purpose to do something, a drive to exceed our limitations, a need to overcome our obstacles.

     I’m not saying we should invite calamity and misfortune into our homes, or that we shouldn’t protect our homes from that, but I am saying that it’s inherent in our house, part of its edifice, a corner stone, what it is about life that challenges us to grow larger than we are, and when we deal with it as an animal would, react out of terror, hatred, outrage, the host of reactions coming out of our stomach, that lower reach of the animal in us, we don’t grow larger but smaller, and although we may, or may not, put a cap on the crisis, it has not been resolved and will come again either to our house in another form in the future or to the house next to us in kind.

     It’s our challenge to learn to deal with calamity calmly with our humanity, not react in terror or outrage all up in arms.  In doing what we must do to face it, rectify it, we have to learn to feel with our humanity the humanity of everyone involved, even that in the ones causing harm and chaos, do that calmly, self-gathered, else we act like animals, and else we don’t do what we’re here to do, both individually and as a whole – be human beings, not beasts.  Gaining our composure and feeling our humanity in such situations is precisely the thing we want the people violating that to do and feel, what will make them stop harming, what will make them feel sorry, sorrow, and if we aren’t composed feeling ours when dealing with them, which means feeling theirs regardless of how they’ve acted like beasts, then how can we expect them to get their act together and feel theirs?  It might feel good to punish them, cheer their suffering, but you’re an animal feeling that, delighting in their pain, and not man.  A sorrow that leaves room for hope, what the soul feels when faced with the sight of suffering, for those hurt as well as those who caused it, taking whatever action we must take in insisting the hurting stop, which is an insistence on healing, of all those involved, would be feeling our humanity in such situations, understanding that when such situations call for a swift and violent response, even taking life (in a posture of self-defense, not one of executing the aggressor), it would be our very humanity that takes such action, not terror or hatred.  It’s no miracle showing love and respect to your children; it’s one to give consideration to the person who violates them such is the over and beyond challenge we face, the top of the world mountain we climb.  I assure you, it’s no less easy for the person who desires to violate them to gain their composure, overcome their desire, their animal nature, and not do so.  You can’t ask them to climb their mountain unless you climb yours; society do you hear me?

     A judgmental, self-righteous, and indignant attitude based not on the truth of things, or even on their change, but upon the very things we as a society are trying to keep from happening, harm to the harmonic, since it’s a guttural reaction intent to harm, in the form of punishment, not born of reason but, like the wrongdoer’s wrong, born from the brute from which we are trying to arise, the one that wants retribution, to extract it’s due, the animal, is what I’m standing here and facing, what I will to change.  What makes my stand a Savitri and not a shooting or a bombing, or anything other than the utter truth of my soul, is that in myself I’m facing that tiger and willing it to change, sort of like the movie about the boy in the boat with the tiger Richard Parker, the act of the change, cutting in the quick of that connection between my society and I as it does, a change of both of us, since I cannot separate myself from you and what force of either love or hate you send my way.  You’d just have to ask yourself, if faced with my story and either or, would you want punishment given or change processed?  How stubborn are you, more so than I?

It’s not with the reason we cross crime,
In my book –
In my dreams.
You soul out an emergency.
Say that at home.
You see the single father favored utility bills,
Stuck it out in terms to oneness.

What did I dream?
Let’s say I didn’t.
I wouldn’t know them:
Cesspool TV,
The day I sunk so low.
I don’t have an excuse possibility of wildlife management.
Know little pity.
You know you’re mad?

White clock anytime.
I take my earring
And apologize.
I guarantee,
I’m lookin’ at you.
You’re talking about trustin’,
All the way across the country.
In India I’m here.

Take that
Light bulb.
Everybody in compliments.
Someone’s drowning.
The kid was drowning.

A lot of people are
Not going to forgive.
Here put me in shoes:
Let me talk to you alone
Auroville,
My dream heart.

Gwen stop,
Gwen stop,
Gwen for goodness’ sakes,
You don’t know when to stop.
[This I said in a dream-vision to my older sister who was in my living room forcefully tickling me under my arms, play-bullying me like older siblings do, and I was in that tickle-pain and helpless to stop her.]
"How did you go?"
I got on for 50 years,
10 years
In Auroville’s exile.
Can you say goodwill?
They don’t have a spirit there forgiveness.

"What are we working here?
What is the country’s?"
Here’s the bike,
(In parenthesis Donny Duke):
You’ve got to change.
There was such a wrong in your eyes.
Fault I’m tryin’ to tell yah.
I’m in a movie.
I’m the villain?

How is the shadow?
That’s the 1st time you’ve got just a little look at it.
Do you think my person is work?
This is whole army.
I’m what you mean to say when you say community.
I move other people.
I belong.

You have a scenario,
The love of God.
What do you have?
That’s my will.
“Should we whip ‘im?”
That won’t change it.
Eye witness
At exactly
The sacrifice.

If you’re going to join me,
I’ll be at the entrance to Auroville.
God is all deep in all.
It’s that that I really wanted to talk to you about.
[A vision accompanying the line of clicking a stylish retractable pen a couple of times and clicking it closed.]

A soul a secretion of the manufacture brain?
There’s more to Miami than meets the eye.
It refer to the deployment bag.
Some mess are totally without meaning.
Kind of a traumatic
Come out to the other eye in orbit.
In the eye in the storm
That’s your died.
There’s a referee in here.
Altogether soul
Behind the heart.
Overall soul
Overhead.
Write it down
To mate.
That would do the trick
(Huge effort):
See past horizons.

Movement for man’s humanity to man,
A theoretical Tel Aviv tell collage.
In life paradise they aspire to go the generous way they want.
You don’t want it thrown out till the next will.
I’ve said it all,
Making the pass,
A papple pass,
And into infinity.

                        [today’s muse]



Tight Walking Tornadoes To World Cycle 5

                                 Lightning in my brain thunders in my heart as I watch and
                                   walk a cyclone through slips of my soul. Weirdly
                                       creeps it out like darkness from a hole.
                                           
                                             So I wholly surrender to my soul unmorbidly
                                    unattached to my life and only dissatisfied
                              with my present self
                                 looking square in the eye the lies
                                       of my shalowsElf.

                                               I’m mounted on the storm
                                                     feeding wind with ears
                                                             of corn. From the top of
                                                               my head the lightning
                                                       strikes the sky, from the
                                                    bottom of my
                                                  heart thunder hurls
                                                       my cry:
                                                          “My heart
                                                               walks
                                                                home!”

[non-muse and slightly modified from its original shape (the cyclone was only the 1st verse), written during a poetic explosion upon leaving the University of Houston in 1992, pre-poetry shapes I took to Spyrock mountain, read on KMUD public radio station, and posted on bulletin boards and buildings around Garberville, California]



                                                                                                                                                
                                                                                                                                                








The Pupil and His Divine,
A Harmony in Five Measures

 [The poem’s in the form of a dialogue with multiple speakers (all my muse poetry is) – in this poem: the poet, his divine, various people in the audience, a general or hypothetical child, a general or hypothetical parent, the poet’s children, even a hostile being. Only the audience speaking is put in quotation marks. Paying attention to punctuation and listening to the poem read, the voices dramatized, play key roles in understanding who’s speaking and in interpreting it.]



 The Listening Post

You can see whatever you want.
I’m eraser not found you come in here.
We’re a friendly service.
Pull on it make sure it’s there.
It revolutionizes
Your whole universe.
Wisdom is as free as doorways,
Long direction movement
Wrapped around your skin.

“What the hell is going on?”
That facility to hear playback,
All the universes spinning and you got a sound.
We pop in your head.
It arranges things,
Continually adds to your bank account.
Completely unborn children
Spend all their time
(Alright then I got plenty of time)
Warming up to this sound.
It’s their pleasure arrangement.
Like packed honeycombs they are born.
I’m sorry you’re not very easy to control.
The baby knows a greater TV.
It’s his home channel.

We see our voices,
Images in the air on the notebook of sight
The inner eye sees.
They’re often read.
Language can’t describe their variety
Unless you had infinity’s notebook.
You can open up this vision,
This paper weight of silence
In the magnet of your thinking
That reaches beyond itself.

Large voices will attract,
Entertain your ear.
There is no limit to its development.
You can construe it,
Order it around,
When you want it to say something.
There’s mixture there,
An unaffordable see:
It costs dearly vision.

This eye of sight
Can see the world in view
And work about to change it
Starting with you.
It habits this land,
Makes it build bridges
To further understanding.
Low and behold a new bridge is built.

We widen our view.
It goes without thinking.
We are in the cockpit of a larger plane
I’m going to fly around.
We silence our music,
Give it greater strings to play.
Then it listens further
Than the frontiers of time.

I see the images:
A waterfall of words that pressurize silence;
Large freedom hills
Naked as the Sun;
A camera that reads music.
Those’ll get yah warm.

A greater life is calling.
We seem to think we’re fine.
“I’ll destroy your music
If I can’t stomach your thought,”
So the Pied Piper says.
“Wouldn’t want to hear about it first.
We’re not living.
We’re dead ants.
We suffer our measure
And drink it as wine.
Come to think of it
We’re fine.”

Can we escape?
We have this infinity’s ear
That helmets in the sight
To what larger there may be.
I’m giving you airplane.

I mean what stopped it?
It’s not broken.
We can try to remember it
Some close to a dream.
It slips in like a spiritual thought
And says something new.
The listening is active but your father can’t come in.
Thought will override the program.
You must keep it on its knees.
We wait our season.
Right in the place where people are talking
You give it an in-look.
That means you wait for something to happen
In the beginnings of sleep.

His day would go quickly he was trying to clean up.
Not a hat could be found.
He reached into his vision.
Just take that other one.
Just take His one.
I’m not going to talk to you about it
Off guard.
A teacher does my thinking in moments of silence.
He is my vision’s partner.
We dock a few lines.
Ever hear of the master worker.
I’m the arrangement.
He’s actually there.

One hundred:
I can hear a reflex pointing our research first.
It aggrandizes the dime.
This snake has many things
At its garbage disposal.
“Open your eyes and smile.
Village your truth.”
Do you hear mouth here?
I hope you’re able to separate your hairs,
I mean lines.
A rough text point,
This signals your thinking.

We infinity our truth.
These are infinity’s guidelines.
I hold them out straight.
“Infinity would never believe it.”
You’re supposed to catch on.
I’ve rounded your thinking
With the history of milk.
You must be a pauper to drink it.
It orders only silence.
You listen in need.

We pull the kid out.
I’m about your thought,
Your merry-go-round.
I follow the leader
Of what you drink.
There caution sorrow,
Disappointment’s ring
If you go off on some tangent.

Listen to spiritual practice.
You’d need to listen wide.
A dream fashions from this same fount,
And you can take us anywhere.
I come from a higher place than that.
I come from infinity’s window.
I’ve ordered your thinking
Along these lines:
There is a listening post,
Your higher heart.

Good word.
Sit in there,
Come clean,
Recover.
I can get richer,
But I’ve spent all my dime.
Listen again.
To be read over,
Listening silence.


Sleeping Arrangements

A wrong movement,
A wrong listening song.
“Is that where they’re at?”
They’ve increased the volume.
It’s a field of pleasure.
They hold together.
We rub against them
Our notebook.
The pages go to sleep
Unmolested.

Mark said it.
Journalistic medicine,
It amplifies my wrong
To put a cover on it.
Cocoons it to its good.
We both bleed down here.
They’re going to bring it up.
Eat after.
“He’s blind.”
Not a thing of the past
Makes man’s ideas out more and more.
They’re going to bring it up.
To shove it out.
It’s a shoving process today.

We have a reason.
Wrong could come break the relationship.
Finish thought,
You need control.
Wrong’s measuring basket:
To drink or drink more?
It’s a field show.
It’s a lessons study.
No 'what daddy'
My son’s been imaged right.

Your measuring stick,
Your wrong.
Do the exercises,
As long as you take the right one
Above the window.
Good history.
Did you see this?
That’s your heart song.


“What happened?”
Said to me.
I don’t want him going in there.
I act, we put there.
This is the first page:
Yes you can sleep in your daddy’s room.
Sometimes we fail to see a better arrangement.
Sometimes we fail to see the solution at all.
Can get serious,
Family court.

May we have your attention?
Please hold onto the exits.
A blue door,
A thousand rupees,
That’s a spiritual way out.
Daddy I want to kiss you.
He’s green labeled that.
“Whatta we do?”
A different time,
A different thing.
Important that you don’t involve matter.
No swimming on the ground.
All need will read
God’s book.

What we’ve got here is a behavioral animal.
It has sharp teeth.
Stay in front.
If he pulls his gun out,
Leave it blank.
I’m sorry I’m dividing.
We’ve got to arrange things
So that the muscle
Get anybody complicated,
Change house.

This is clear music.
You’ll sleep together in peace.
Watch those corner edges.
They rub a body mean.
I’m a happy song
You sing to your children
When she’s not in the house,
A line Molly.

“Why did Molly come?”
I’ve seen only skin much, Okay?
Place the truth in your hands.
“You know it won’t control them.”
And it’s just like it was now,
Trying to figure what was going on.
I’m just telling you something before you react:
I’m bringing you change.
That’s the technique.

The rude imperious surge,
That didn’t get you.
Do you want promise?
The Dallas runway.
You see some good
In this arrangement.
Don’t blow me away.
Keep the tickling hand free of charge
And the alphabet.
Study it please.

Doing things together
Don’t let paper weigh you down.
What you want is a free, easy, spontaneous
Gift hand.
You take this
You show it to them.
“Must be nice to not have any fetters.”
Just remember why you’re here.
It’s not to aggrandize the show.
A growth going on,
And the body carries its charge.
Sleeping arrangements made easy,
I go to sleep.

What Tamil movie?
We image sleep,
Make it our breakfast song.
It’s the dream image that we care for.
That is molding the show.
You don’t know how sensitive the hand is
In the area of dream.
It is like another house,
Another house owner.
It can fasten itself
To the waking movement,
And wrong behavior,
Convinced of itself,
Plays the hand.
But not when it comes
Awake.
That’s the prime time TV.

Your hand has license there.
It meets them in dream.
They seem arranged for the movement,
Probably asleep.
You have to go to clean.
You can’t.
A deaf movement.
“Which one is that?”
The life hand
Has no will in it
To move.
Your head
And all its arrangement
Is sleeping in the bed.

“What you do?”
There’s a program to put on.
It’s called make the body safe.
Call on divinity to help you,
Some divine name.
Open to them,
And close the hand.
Hercules had no stronger task.
You see,
We can mess up;
We can come abuse
So early.

There is a physical culture.
The body has its own field.
Your body
Wrapped around another body
Ignites imagery in sleep.
I dreamed that I was in here by him,
Next to him in bed.
Doubled doors are open.
Hot red hold me wrong.
Hot red you see,
Hot red.

Hidden desire
Can play.
These are occurrences in sleep
That hold us down in life.
They can arrange things,
Pass this on to another child.
The waking world is full of such traps.
And we don’t even remember our dream,
Even though our lightened load
Is acting its ground.
This is a double pleasure.
Our child wakes up from his sleep
And waits for a buddy to fulfill it.
“Physical culture I’m mad at you.”
Though you are mad at me,
You like it
In the dream.
It’s a body arrangement.

What will put peace here is your spiritual test.
Who do you sleep with at night?
Your own dream?
Who it is you are open to
Will single out your sleep,
Open in the sense
That’s where you move.

You see my connection.
It’s a high note.
A practice song this is.
A night is drama to cross.
Put a pillow under it.
Only names
Are personal enough
To put it together.
The name should rhyme with God.

There was something else.
The child in bed with you
Isn’t even there.
They represent God’s feelings,
An image in the night
Made in both areas:
I have walk in
And close the door.
We move to God’s nature
The sleeping child.

“Have you fastened everything?”
I can arrange it some.
You didn’t contact me,
Subscriber.
A pulled image,
Give me a dime to see.
We keep our images and our heads together
Or they lose reality.
Bases cover this program,
The high note
We put our money on.

Yeah you hear:
Hold your child a little.
Keeps safe with him.
“We do not encourage sleeping with children.”
No,
It’s just not a big deal.
You wouldn’t be able to
Hand out body bags.

You’re not gonna get clearer than that for fifteen minutes,
The poetry of another song
Even closer.
I sound your sleep.
Hear a whistle?
You’re an area dude.
You carry your first one folks.

Please dog go.
I gave you one rupee.
He’ll have a warm spot in his freezer.
He’ll want to put something there.
It feels warm to him,
And that’s all that’s interesting.
It’s nine or something no?
I don’t want your answer.
Tell me.
He can’t ride you like that
If you’re going to heal his movie.
He has grass ready.
You just need to cut on it.
We feel good.                                    
That’s the problem.

His sleep knows this distance.
He’s practicing in dream.
You have to arrange it to watch his tower.
You hold the boy with your sleeping arm.
This is a measure of sleep.
No leave the stuff there.
All that we need is what you’re bringing to school on Monday,
Okay?

Hey Donny,
His sleep you can’t ride,
But I can.
Go on, get some paperwork.
If you can just move for a minute,
That penis clouded,
You hit the note
That images safety.
You felt a strong glow,
Him.
The divine
Had muscle.
He’s favored in sleep.
The urge is there,
But nobody eats.
You’re walking him out of this program:
Exclamation point
In his area down there.

Though I’m sure it won’t be understood,
He gets dressed everyday.
You must learn to read the music,
Siren songs,
Then move accordingly.
This is your fifth gear.
Man, speed up.
Do you know what ten miles serve?
Hey man I pass everything.
I’ll see you later.
Life being predictable,
Same cost.

“What is this?”
The harmony of attention.
If I were you
I’d probably prefer to be
Part of the program:
Let me love you what I do,
But let’s get this story straight.
Touch those together.


Bathroom Control

We look out bathroom street
A window to go higher.
I promise daddy I’m hungry.
Well eat the other one.
You must clean your plate.
Bathrooms error the truth.
They guide us to the wrong door.
We can’t help but play there.

Can I give you a bath this towel said.
You might want room.
I pressure you with cleanliness.
If I unfasten your belt,
Will I unfasten mine?
You’re in freedom’s uniform.
I look towards the bottom window
Choosing to ignore freedom.
We put a special emphases there,
The point will get across:
I love your toilet
Washing daddy said.
It wasn’t clean.

I image your hand.
It only wants exposure.
We open your sanctuary.
You feel a slight tease.
It’s a slow hand,
Rubbing ground.
I’m afraid you’re finished.
The thought can be carried back
For future reference.

“Can we get out here?”
It’s a necessity arrangement.
Clean a child must be.
Rude we do not wash him.
Your pants you remove.
I’d pull down your life.
I’m all soap and lather.
You’re not into this are you?
You just wait up with a smile.

I showered my hand.
Give me that washcloth.
We go over your genitals.
They’re into themselves.
I just image poetry.
I may wash them I said.

Here’s the hard part:
Just his genitals and you.
An image will show here
If you’re not on line –
The red hand buttering wood.
It’s old,
And you don’t think about it no more,
The emotions get away with it.

How I balance your ship:
I sink it in the neighborhood.
Can you say aggrandize it?
You can count your dream.
Army staples award.
We soldier here
The concept of war.
I habitat your thinking.

You want a real significance there,
The one that shoulders attention
On individuality.
“I know what you’re saying:
Give this guy his flag,
He’ll be his own nation.”
There’s a private lesson there.

I’m waiting for your attention to change ground.
We hold onto his plate,
He won’t aim his life.
I’ll go to execute Galgatha.
I’ll go to my house.
I will pay payments you understand,
The leftovers.
Daddy sleep with me
Right here.

Least I know I can talk to you.
That one’s the arrangement.
Alright you did it,
Your friend the apple pie.
Daddy white collar
I expected among.

I only told him,
You hear deaf music.
It’s not about this time.
It’s about castle keep,
A personal defend line.
We are his defenders
Of that little ship.
We keep the world from on it.
He can’t do that yet.

I am throwing the dust toy
A hidden view.
Now get drink you gotta eat.
The other bike is not working.
“Wha what?  Where?”
I don’t want.
Now come here.
I’m serious now.
You don’t even wash them unless you got to.
That type of behavior
Robs your castle.
I made a mistake.
Robs his also.
He needs to learn
To do it himself.

A host of programs.
“I want to go to school.”
Teach them with your free hand,
No hidden icons in its toolbar.
I’ll be back
If you’ve touched them that way.
We have a cross in the I.

Listen.
You draw the lights,
Plan on there being
A stairwell.
My school I take it.
You teach me good,
Okay you teach me
Like this:
No hidden
Motivation
I’m disappear.

He’s just a show up before, come on.
One of the very inquiries,
We dried it for itself,
Dried it off,
A mountain view,
A safe program.
Hold your poets in there.
He’s a dynamically used vehicle
If you read him right.

“Where is mother in the bathroom?”
I believe ape ate the answer.
Dad Okay you get in here.
Come to microphone.
Hey we’ve got to go
As long as it must.
In that grow folder
Another year of right,
Naturally.

Our area is clean.
We’ve looked beyond program,
What we’ve put down.
The body’s a bulletin board.
We pin touches on it.
She’s not a delivery system.
No you can’t.
You wouldn’t be able to.
They’ll be there.
I told you.
It just served its purpose,
Their room.

“Did you read the ten dollars?”
Like everything else,
He’s on our list too loud.
We examine him.
You do not mind like this
To make the adjustment.
You see,
I’m sleeping beside my daughter.
“We’ll cut your allowance.”
I’ll give anyway.
In fact, I really hoped
To release this window by giving its dead.
A girl, minimize this window.
Stab here,
And it shakes the entire race.

In fact,
I did it for me
They have in clean.
She’ll demand the moon.
If I don’t give it to her
She’ll pitch a fit,
A daily TV.

A line of bad company that you’ve Illinoised,
That you’ve allowed,
Will escape
And talk to people.
Who knows,
Maybe it’s
Gonna put you outta your house.

I’m sitting in the front.
That’s where they’ve got their attention,
The front of the movie.
They don’t reason out
What’s behind them.
Frame up here
On a mountain
And feel good.
This is the price of the program:
No behavior
That robs pleasure.

This is a mountain view.
I give you inside wrong
Half an hour,
There’s the shower.
My birthday is coming daddy.
The top
I’ll pick up again.
“What will we be reading?”
Holistic medicine.

You might wanna take that peace.
I put him on the bus.
I play him
I get moved.


The Top of the Head Show

Daddy,
You come.
We chakra this drink.
Can you believe I touched that?
That subtle body field,
Where you put your hand,
Can go inside.
Right this way.
The tooth fairy,
She do it,
Touch zero
In my chakra need.

That little flower
Below the navel
Got burned
By pleasure.
It’s spinning faster now.
There’s a whack in the system,
All out of line.
Watch out,
Behavioral problems,
Emotional issues,
Communication difficulty,
And it continues.

At the base of the spine,
At the tip of the tail,
A stir is underway.
It’s a partial kundilini arousal
Of the sleeping kind.
The touch wanted it.
Eventually frustrated.
I want two hundred rupees
Life-force size.
You ever wonder why delight?
Will go in directions
All this energy.
Puts the finger on it.

They would like their children...
They’ve already arranged things the way they like them you see.
The children are a boiled mess.
Even a Hatha yogi
– Hello –
Can’t swim these waters
Without preparing years.
A child has its chakras out,
Something we don’t know.

Seven dollars
Divided by a rule
Giving her a favor,
A full payment plan
Individual.
I’m pretty sure
That agriculture is used.
The lesson plan:
Get your
Wrong TV tuned.

You’re a loud movie
Little boy.
Turn down the volume
I don’t know,
Except that kind of love
Increases it so.
Alternative medicine:
They have a top of the head.
Let’s reverse this flow,
Channel that energy.

You can see
All the things they want to do.
Maniac,
It doesn’t make sense.
He has the capabilities
Of being a proper powerful.
The top of the head focus
Will open their inner vision.
All the behavior
Has clouded it considerably.

First comes the cleaning
Your room,
Pick up after themselves,
Take out the garbage,
Sweep the floor.
Here you know what we found?
A divinity of cleanliness
Gathering the ground
On that level.
Finish off this subject.
No one
Likes their picture taken
Dirty.
Field,
Go, go, go.

Second program:
Open the top of the head
And keep it open.
This is an area of the house
You can’t touch.
Focus them there.
This is why it takes so long:
Well I can’t take it,
Quiet now.

Calm down.
Pinpoint your awareness there
With me.
They mange a little bit.
The candle flame
As the sun goes down,
They can feel that
In their crown.
Do this exercise.
It’s a daily practice.

I’m going to the top of my head.
Who wants to join me?
(Lesson out perfume.)
My child where is your awareness?
What about a mountain top?
The television can wait.
Are you alive?
You’re so different.
Anything comes
To mess the routine,
Hey,
Be flexible.

The top of the head,
Let me tell you some.
That’s where we cross over
At the death of the body.
The ignorant world,
That was the filling
Of knowledge and the divinity.

She goes to school
To learn her way.
I’m not through on my way to the pool.
She holds back.
She’s tired.
Assimilation a lot of read until
The way they are
Underwrites divinity.
They’ve got a few minutes
Mind you.

I’ve given you something to chew on,
A riddle put in question
And solved.
We base our experience
At the beginning of evolution.
If you read that
You would open the top of the head and keep it open.
It’s a conscious movie.

Can I ask myself,
Substantiality,
Where is it found?
Why they look
There on the ground?
Asking a Hatha yoga this.
I use mercy to find out.
“Meets the standard.”
“A division of excellence.”
“You want the best program.”
“You can’t buy a better arrangement.”
“I don’t want anything better than that.”

Try to use the grocery store.
There’s a, index.
“Oh that’s so beautiful
Ladies.”
We support our groups.
I’m an issue at the top of the head,
Spirit informing matter.
Where are you led?
I don’t think it’s to please behavioral problems.
We focus on matter matter’s our object.

It’s a beautiful arrangement
The world that we see,
But matter’s a picture show,
And we are spirits in it.
Who woke from the dream?
Is matter their gospel?
“I bet a kundilini gave paper on this.”
She’s around.
“Can I borrow a drink?”

Kundilini’s ill informed.
There’s a field there,
Unshaped energy.
She’s not Spirit’s standing ground.
I’m gonna go in just a minute.
If we start at the base of the spine
To get a spiritual grip,
Everything’s under conspiracy;
We have no leadership in the head.

Why did I start this mountain?
Our children’s future has a journey now.
Matter on top,
Spirit arranged last,
Their journey will be very predictable:
Ordinary life.
“Yes I agree.”

My hat size
Has a question for infinity:
Matter a rigid movement,
How do we spiritualize it?
Just down here
There’s something going on.
I’m a top down answer.
Oh my folks?
Two disciples of yoga,
The Mother and Sri Aurobindo.

Names aren’t important.
“How would you know?”
It’s like a bite,
All the matter
Of a person.
My intention
Is to get this airplane off the ground.
Any serious pilot knows
That his instruments
Are not where he is going.
They guide him there.
This poem
Gives a very practical lesson in ground guidance.
I’m not getting a maintenance program.
I’m getting evolved.
I’d say that’s substantial.

We come to the close of our book.
Any questions?
“Why it came.”
We brought
This little boy
Out of dog’s house,
Put him in front of everybody
So that matter
Can be woken up
From the crown down.
He’s a light on this subject.


Flexibility’s Good Practice

I see my result in the image of tomorrow,
Sacrifices for these guys,
Sacrifices for children made.
I see a little ahead of us now.
Oh my God,
An image I see,
The sound and the fury of a group called
A rigid belief system.
They deny my answer.
It gains ground instead.

Be useful with my hair.
That’s why I got an office.
Most of the new modem here is for this:
Yoga transitions wrong.
It doesn’t recognize itself when the change occurs.
Yoga’s a half light,
An image to see.
It’s necessary.
Yoga at least fields the answer.
Union becomes possible.

A new light on yoga,
A new inspiration on yoga:
Flexibility.
“Can you come back in about fifteen minutes?”
They ask my choice.
“Your native place, your country?”
American dream.
“I hope for your sake as well
It lasts the dream.”
Now, the politics has religion.
Doves, a page for arms spending.
It’s a powerful dove now.
I hold you open to everyone.
You don’t know the religion of the Spirit
Mr. Fundamentalist.

American box office,
You’ll allow it
A ten minute jury.
It’s open.
You want a letter hold it down.
Art has business
In imaging ideas.
A new idea
Is what we’re looking for.

We’ve got an opening in pictures.
I superstorm that’s fine.
While we’re ahead,
Let’s crack divinity’s TV.
It is an image in a notebook
That you write while you’re asleep.
It has what you need.

I’m awareness of God.
You can’t buy that in a bookstore,
Nor paint it on a friend.
It’s a personal journey.
I’ll be going down
To the bare minimum.
From there I hope to image this story.
Get up now.

“Daddy?”
Wait till you finish eating.
Put your finger on us.
Ah ha, that touched my hand.
We’re neighbors you see.
Thought will
Go public.

“If I understand your meaning right
Poetry thinker,
We are a collective body.”
That’s our building process
Yes.
We can image out thought a new reality.
We could do that
Instead of who we hate.

Coconut in my big ouch here,
The rumors of war hate fashioned.
“We create its dream,
Annihilation.”
These are primitive seekers,
But we must understand them.
They need to know they’re safe.
Their belief system is their protection
Against immensity.

We hear them regard:
“We guard our forefather’s knowledge.
We hope to gain by its creed what our forefathers lost,
The right way to live.
We are a ship at anchor in an empty port.
We image reality
By what we see.
There has no greater value
A living scene.
It is solid fact not symbol wrought.
And God in his heaven sits the same.”

We image a pupil
Who doesn’t listen.
“I kinda knew that in the morning.
I stopped vision.
It was drowned by the world.”
Hey man what happened?
If you don’t finish it tomorrow...
“I put a poem where God lived in me.”
The solid confines of matter’s image
Can so easily
Hide the Unseen from view.

“Is there a land bridge here?”
I’m happy to see one,
It’s my son,
My little girl.
If I could put their ship in the water on just the right course,
They’ll put together this image
And pilgrim our voyage.
It’s a hope for tomorrow for a future today.
These are my children.
I give them right of way.
I don’t think we’re lost here,
Just a little aground.
I’m Okay.
Don’t worry about me.
Just do your homework:
Know what to believe.

“I’m not surprised.”
Here was fine.
We leave our souls numbered on.
This was a glad space in a bright heart,
Charity’s donation.
Down there,
Infinity held sway.

He organized his room.
“What we put?
What we do?”
He made soldiers on stacks of bibles
And passed them out to the world.
He cleaned the inside of things,
Rejecting old business.
He heard his Stranger call
And wrote it down.
He aloned to himself,
Coming into contact with his own world.
His speech betrayed not the things he saw.
He flashed a light of kindness in his arm’s reach.
It was a banquet now.

“What did you catch one of those twenty-four hour things?”
This was no question posed by the night.
You gathered a liver to your hero.
If it lasts,
It survives.
Your guarantee for the future.
I’m on a UK maneuver.
There most book.

His private door gave lesson.
This was no ordinary show.
Seventh Avenue,
They looked in on him:
You’re an overmental movement
You understand.
Take it easy,
Supermind’s there
Standing ground.
Higher than the moon
Who put their soul?

He hoped in dream’s pocket.
It was a large measure.
His house they used him
And looked not within.
This was his point of friction with the world.
Constant assault the children were.
He had anger
That he could not hide.
We draw him before
That station-house settled.

Good work,
You have to play on it.
We opposite a six.
“Is that good measure?”
It’s the right issue today.
What I was tested’s the fact
(Come daddy)
I can be a father,
Whether or not it works.
What’s yoga?
You have to believe it works.
There,
I’ve said your damn lesson.
Now image reality,
A top of the head see.
Do you get my copycat?
“Individually.”

I’m not sitting next to wrong.
I’m sitting next to you.
“Can we habitat this truth?”
Man, this is our dwelling place.
It has to do with a song.
It only hits you,
You open your eyes.
The Spirit is alive in matter,
And the Spirit stays.
Matter is his habitat but not his standing ground.

Daddy, can I have a digital watch
That tells the time
Eternally?
Here we pause for a word from our sponsor:
The world removes sickness
Your body
Will be an eternal image;
Homeopathic made cure.

A substantiality review,
Measure that in heart beats.
May you grow bigger than yourself.

So many passengers,
They don’t want a heart strong.
It will have to be something that we do together.
Individuals prepare the field.
You’ll have a rough time sitting there
Absorbed in your television set
Three dimensional.
The hat’s
Just a protection
From getting lost in the movie.
Crown chakra,
You gotta wear it.
Do I make myself clear or not?

“Daddy?”
Can I sleep in your bed tonight?
Okay.
Now do you believe me?
I will challenge you in the deepest part of your laugh.
Hello my associate
You don’t usually say.
Head bothering you?
I have said a window
Opportunity set up.
You’re staring at the wall.
You’d have to see beyond it
To understand what I said.

“Really?”
It would mean
An integral yoga.
“Even the masters
Couldn’t gather these clothes.”
They just never put ‘em on.
You’ll have to step out even,
Emptiness said.
Catch my airplane winnebago?
The Spirit is free
In all this
Stuff.

“I had trouble with that one.”
Fix your feet high.
That’s an asana everybody has trouble with.
Keep practicing.
Yoga will work.

Throw a leg over this movie:
Moksha reborn
Here in the world.
You’d have to catch the plane,
Give it your understanding.
The body is carved by it in silence,
Listening.
To be totally honest I walked to it
One slip at a time.
It was the heart that provided the key.
Once it knew
It was on its way,
The change arrived.

“Donny I,
Listen to you.
So you don’t have to worry.”
That was decent.
That was not about arguing.
Arguing,
It showed me something.
The mind, the heart, the body all integrated,
People solved.

Definitely another subject
(I don’t think so)
The soul is their point of order.
Fits right here.
We begin with an understanding
Opening the top of the head
Or the heart window
Imaging soul.
They will solve each other
If we bring them together right.

I’d like to show you something.
We play music
One measure at a time.
This airs out the difficulty
Integration brings.
I’m, I’m good,
Unmolested.
Hear this music?
Boy hears it now.
The public awhile.
Execute this thing.
That’ll take it
Off the ground.

We open our opera,
A whole like twenty-eight pages.
One crying.
What’s a matter sweetheart?
Daddy I don’t want to leave you.
We’ll have to have faith
The Mother said.
She’s the one holding it together,
Our family arrangement.

I have these children.
Remove the cover.
What do you see?
“You’re their daddy.”
Touched it,
The front of it.
“Funny,
That really appealed to me.”
I lesson in longevity.
“Where do you put your scorecard?”
There’s really a house.
I want to print it out:
My children
Are lessons in love.
You don’t want to mess with them.
I give you
Clean house.

A story’s been told
Infinity sings.
We nowhere near mirror
The calm flexibility that
We in our divinity will show –
As we stand transformed,
Not just stuck on the rafters.

“Where will this evolve?”
It’s in our daily room,
Where we spend our lives holding cares.
Is my rifle here?
“What dense energy is that?”
It’s what shoots answers,
Will not let us see the way out.
Go ask people,
And they figure it out:
“If we do get up there,
Anything, anything at all,
I have to do it,
I’ve got to get my courage out.
I’m about the idea change.”

A body without a beard,
Without one iota of fashion together wrong,
If I’m rewriting I’m writing to version fad.
We are so swayed by our opinions.
Well man,
Your opinion,
No matter how sharpened,
Might be more narrow than life.

Can you average that?
Bout time you come in.
It’s actually better
To let the truth unfold
Instead of proclaiming it.
We evolve here.
You have my answer.
Now that’s actually what it is,
Truth evolving.
You’re welcome.

I’m available
Across the railroad tracks.
It’s where you see disease.
I’m not that far.
Look how close I am to you,
In your intimacy kitchen,
Your bathing and sleeping with
Your own concerns.
“Where is the line crossed?”
Stew there.
Now call for intimacy with me.

What makes you so mad?
I would ask for an associate’s degree.
How many times does justice hate?
Would it be that that hate’s carried over from someplace else,
A little road in you?
“It’s not there whispers hate.”
We’re not talking
Out in the open –
Subconscious.
You have ways to avoid that stuff.

What drew these lines?
Hear so many cross.
It’s not a perfect world for me anymore.
Doesn’t have to go.
Trying to tell a river.
We’d open
Our eyes and see it.
“Then what’s the story?”
We can be clean.

“I don’t think so.
It’s not that easy.”
Oh come on,
Top notch of this group,
Who knows it?
"But tell me,
Did you name to the air conditioner five minutes,
Just one time?"

You make me worry.
Let’s guilt them and them.
Wow, you have society’s hold up here.
Cultural morality
Do any justice?
By hidden cost:
We are not permitted to evolve.

“Where does the dust settle?
I’m fighting your window,
And it doesn’t open.
Okay, this and with hate.
Very shot behind.”
House with
Victim.
I had to get my stuff out of the way
So you got yours.
 “Hey man this thing’s got director over me.”
Could be a wonderful person.
You can change.
I’m tryin’ to get you off the ground.
It’s not better
If said person doesn’t come to see you again.
That touch blisters along.
Somebody
Can help
Like who would’ve thought it.
Come on, heart walk strong.
On your way too.

All from eyes
They’ll have knowledge back.
Give them muscle on clean,
What I give clean.
“Lemmie get this straight:
Wounding sword heals?”
Over the end that’s burned.

Good morning,
In our little house
Thoughtful matter.
Count how many times the Word gets used.
The average person is comin’ round.
That’s a New York
Giving a better New York.
That’s your higher count.

I’ve given you right music,
The corrected story.
It leads up to American
(Oh I got here),
The American dream.
Find that equipped
Once we get electricity.
We’d save the energy
Where our body’s the worst fade:
Each other.

Simple:
We evolve.
Not in here
Some rafter said.
Before we close the door
To bodily existence
We would have made divine matter’s robe.
We would be together by the way.
Think about it.
Evolution, remember?


Decide to get to home plate –
To move and get the temple.
“Why are you there?”
It can be held again –
It can be found.

I found my soul.
Boys safe –
I feel sorrow.
Get your wrong TV tuned folks –
Get God on your plate.
I’m tryin’ to slide you an angle on the classical guitar,
Once it got posted,
The body’s freedom.

I’m measuring an ambush this morning –
I’m listening.

You can’t do it marshal,
Shoot me in front of God and everybody.
(Make sure Nancy’s resistance is in the place that she wants –
She may resist letting go.)
Related visions,
I keep reading the title of our narrative.
But Bob misses,
Play hide and seek.
That’s a camera
Charged with think tank.
Eat eggs,
Follow the list of the dawn.
Now that you’ve come up with,
You’re the unbelievable:
Against evolution.
Albert Einstein the very next day is pointed out as saying,
“A special case with special officers,
They couldn’t track it down,
A locked up.”
I rank in it
Well self-giving lists.
The world is watching.
Splash!
A pedophile
Makes its sense.
   
                                                                                                                                            
                                                                                                                                            




The song and the video were inspired (though for the latter I chose a few scenes with the mind, but the majority came from inspiration, that is, from dream, inner voice and vision), a process I explain in an essay in The Chipmunk Press Vol. 3 Issue 2 entitled, Rendezvous in Muse.



Creative Commons License
For the text of the essays, poems, and the song lyrics by the editor on all pages and posts of The Atomic Review

Creative Commons License
For the images, audio (including music), and video by the editor on all pages and posts of The Atomic Review