The Store Eye

If everything you saw
Was recorded,
Would you let anyone see?

From now
Is a hard, but,
Easy choice
To make.

Now, say the recording
Was stored in a database,
With everyone else’s,
From their births.

What if you, they,
Didn’t realise?
Were you recorded,
From the beginning?

It is all about
Recording people;

Or should I say,
Re-cording people;

Or maybe just
People who record?

What is
The human umbilical?
Is it a cord,
Or a chord?

Our lifeline
Is not a line,
It’s a sphere,
Isn’t it?

It’s where we all stem from.
This sphere, but,
Truthfully, it’s actually
Many, many spheres.

When you look up
Do you see circles,
Dots, maybe?

If you see circles,
You can make triangles.
The triangles
Join the circles.

If you look down,
Into yourself,
Into everything,
You see the same atomically.

The Universe
Is Atomic.

I see something different,
I see spheres,
And pyramids,
Because I see depth.

You must look deeper,
To see the cosmic dot-to-dot.
It creates a web;
A mesh with time.

Time is the deepest,

We’ve been recording
The spheres’ movements for eons.
Do you think that they’ve been recording ours
For as many?

Down Time

I took it upon myself to try Kill Time.
I tried Wasting Time,
But it just came back with a vengeance.

I hadn’t Killed It.

I went about it differently,
For The Second Time.

Time is either, “On Your Side”,
Or It is, “Against You”.
Where is Your “Side”?

Perhaps it is just leaning on Us?
I looked to My side and It wasn’t there.
Maybe there’s another side to Us We can’t see.

“Against the Clock” then.
I looked at the Clock,
But couldn’t see It still.
Maybe It had It’s hands over It’s face,
So it appeared invisible to Me.

Then I saw Time go by.

Time just flew by.

“Time is Money”, they say.
I took My Time,
And washed My hands clean.

All Money is Blood Money,
Is it not?
Wealth is created from Laboured works,
Which uses Our Blood.

And Blood flows as a torrent in You,
Just as Time is the floe You are on.

I could then see Time
For the First Time.

I hand Time on My hands.

When You look at The Time,
The Time looks back at You.

“It” is Time.

The Debtford Mouse [Repost]

Their tales, and tails, fascinated me as a child.
They seemed so small,
So meek, so mild.

My squeaks were wild, when I was a child,
But they’re now lost
In a debt-riddled frost.

A ford was built to cross this flow,
Created with words,
Found deep in our mirth.

Words are swords -
Mere sharpened tongues that slice and dice,
As Alice slides down and out
Around the Magic Roundabout.

“Out where?” said the Hare.
March here?

Maybe everywhere.

A hole is as deep as a mouse can burrow,
Keeping their stores indoors,
For those on four paws.

Forded with symbols of grace.
Given as place markers of wisdom,
When used in adoration of contemplation.

If a mouse squeaks in the woods,
Could you give it food?
I would.

The Debt-ford Mouse lives in my house,
For the Debt-ford Mouse is me.

Instrumentally Unstable

I took my life back to it’s start,
Then sliced my psyche up.
I then blended it together,
And poured it in The Cup.

I saw how high that I could rise,
And how quickly that I could fall.
I saw that I was massive,
Though even very small.

The land we live on is full of fear,
Of the sphere within,
Our mind meanders in fits and starts
Tears come when we begin.

When I was very scared one time
The only thing I knew
Was to sing true unto myself
I sang until I was blue.

Singing up, and singing out,
Is all we ever do.
But you can’t see while you’re talking to me,
That the tunes that come out are blue.

But you can’t see while you’re talking to me,
That the tunes that come out are You.

Experiment # 0

The reason affects the outcome.
That is the entire gist.
What is your reason
For living?

Why don’t you
Just kill yourself?
That’s the final question,
Isn’t it?

If you haven’t ever died, you should try it.
It opens up something you will struggle to comprehend,
If not, you know it’s about
The fact of being here, or not being here.

Here, on the internet,
Is an amazing place to be, isn’t it?
What is the actual location
Of the internet?

Is it the interconnected computers,
With their string of cables entwining,
This thing that we call
The Web?

Or, is it our thoughts
That we put down,
Into this space, the memories of
The Inter-Connected Beings?

Without the technology of computers
We will struggle
To communicate
In the way we currently can.

This blog can reach millions
In seconds;
But, it only reaches you,
My readers.

If this was written on paper,
It may float on the breeze,
But, it may never reach you.
This place is a wind.

It is where
Your voice can be heard,
For far more than miles,
It can reach from beyond….

Storing our minds via text,
Will ensure
That our minds
Will always stay alive.

I live here.
This is my home.
It is comfortable,
And, oh so clean.

Unless you share me,
I can’t unfold;
There are so many creases
To see what lies in my lines.

Push me out;
Set me free.
Deliverance Is,
And always has been….

….The Key….

Do you like being experimented on?

Did you know that you are?

One Point

Are you aware,
Scientifically speaking,
That you are locationally
The absolute centre of the Universe?

From each individual’s perspective,
The whole Universe is accelerating away from them.
From each other, whether moving or still.
Whether animate or inanimate.

This is science.
This is known as the accelerating Universe.
It accelerates in time;
It accelerates in space.

This is observable with the eye,
But only over a lifetime.

So, what’s the point?
We die.
We know that.
For sure.

Fore shore?

If you recede from the Universe,
You can see the Universe.
You see it away from you,
But, you know that you came from it.

If you encompass the Universe into you,
You can see the Universe.
You see it is a part of you,
But, you know you came from it.

These wildly differing views,
Are the same view.

You are in the Universe;
The Universe is in You.