Poetic Narrative: Chords

Within, without
Divine, devout

Part of me worries that these words will be taken away from me,
as though I own them;
that someone might even be interested.

Other parts remind me that I am, right now, of course,
a culmination;
information expressing itself, the universe itself posing.

Within, without
Divine, devout

Speak clearly, your voice is fading:
I am not the netherworlds, this is not an empty bar;
people's hands are already upon this -
they may even have grasped it before I even conceived of it.

There is no copyright, only the right to copy.

Paradox: all things are original, yet are necessarily composed of other peoples' works.

Other peoples' works are all original, yet are composed necessarily of other peoples' works.

And so on, ad infinitum.

Paradox number one (of many).

Stealing is a frame of mind.

Within, without
Divine, devout

I am a bundle of information in flux;
I am not an "I", nor is this "I" anything ever - it is always moving;
being is processes and interconnectedness, it does not seem to agree with the verb "is", but my language gives me a hard time sometimes (or maybe it is all those "I"s);
forever moving, we move, and onwards is instilled with value judgments - rather, we just move around, in all directions, constantly, along with everything else that is constantly is-ing, being, moving, whatever.

I already know all I know, which is tentative at least - but keep me posted anyway, there are exhilirating perspectives which I might like to tap into.

It all comes down to *bleep* (insert loop here).

God is not on your side; this way of looking at things is the drool falling from a mentally retarded person's mouth. There is only disrespect here if you see it.

I am divine, THEY are devout;
I am within, THEY are without.

My friend once told me that something that implied we are all Jesus, because we are all gods. Only Jesus told everyone about it, so they crucified him.

Everything said is beyond wrong and right outside of a context, the latter being also within a context, which is within another context, and so on, ad infinitum.

Laugh at funny words, realise that you laughed because you thought they were stupid, and then realise that you are immensely prejudiced. Most people are missing the third step.

Brain damage.

Stomach ulcers.

A dying spirit and existential anxiety.

Name tags.

Within, without
Divine, devout.

Dreamtime.