Poem: 66
Friday, 24 February 2017
Lift my limits!
Bruce Lee told me “there are no limits.”
Nothing so dangerous as a man without limits.
So I believed him, and became dangerous.
What limit did I lift?
I lifted my limits on fear.
Fear of being rejected, judged, ostracised.
Now I publish and publish and publish.
Quantity has a quality all its own.
There is only one metric. Volumetric.
Rising, spiking, peaking, cresting — higher and higher we go!
There are no followers. There are no drafts.
There is only publish.
Nietzsche told me “be a man of one idea.”
Nothing so dangerous as a man of one idea.
So I believed him, and became dangerous.
What one idea did I fill myself with?
I filled myself with the one idea of creation.
I shall be as the word. I shall speak forth existence.
It shall explode from me. I shall leave the judging to others.
Let them come later. In the beginning, there is no original sin.
There is no critic. No flaw. Nothing to change. Only word.
Who am I to edit this work? I am not even its author.
I only write what I hear. I plagiarize from eternity.
There is no me. There is only creation.
It is happening.
One idea.
So I wrote and wrote and wrote.
And published and published and published.
I knew not of what I spoke.
Spirit moved through me.
Then you said, “Uh oh! You’ve reached your limit! Stop! Too much!”
I was stunned.
Limits returned. Critics returned.
I was no longer of singular mind.
I had to do something.
So I begged to the goddess Medium,
“Oh no! Let it not be so! Lift my limits! Merciful friends, please!”
I promise I promise
I’m not a spam bot, I’m a love bot.
And I love botting here.
And the priest, good Gerald there,
He said, “Go. Your prayer has been answered.
Keep the flow going. I have lifted your limits.”
Now I am returned.
No mind. No limits.
Only creation.
