Yelling. And laughing.

Cut it up yourself, it’s always been cut up. Now you know, it’s all cut up. Mos Def and Rawkus cut it up.
Disposable Heroes cut it up.
Life is memories. No time. Just experiences pieced together.
Everyone knows now, everyone is a writer, a musician, a painter. When everyone knows, no one knows.
S h a d j a. The one, the eternal, the nothing, the everything, the whole, the emptiness, the void. What can you do with notes? It is done. There is only between the notes now.
Between the words.
Between the strokes of the brush.
Between the flashes of light.
Let it sing, the one, that contains the whole, everything, there is nowhere else, only the one, the source, the sound, the vibration.
Let it speak to you. Drown in the drone, the one.
All ideas are wicked.
Sit, lie, or stand.
Open.
Let it wash through you.
There is nowhere else to go except within it and without it.
Leap from here into the void where there is nothing and all is there in the void without limits or ideas there is no void
What a lark.