AF is for Acrilic Figa: Lung Playa'

Acrillic Figa

Just unsrewed a bottle cap
full throttle back, swigullet into stomach sack,
pouch pocket bag,

my minds gone awry,
lumps on my feet from walking,
still sleep in my eye.

if the spirit don't move ya
then your just on the wrong channel,
if the body carn't feel ya wipe it off
with a flannel.

These are straight rye memes
from the left hand side, more conscious thought and hence i retaught to drinking rather than smokin and yet i still avoid editing cuz > this is me you hear medipotatin through eggzassperating curry, weather my readers take me seriousley, think me uglay or funnAiy? Punnie times bring Roman Times typographic traffic backed up in my head, just had a talk with a friend of mine about the Greatful Dead, and how the dead can dance, and howz the phase shifters are Trance and how the name reflects the pain of the shamans existessence, threatened by pharma corp loggers, threatened by army corps bloggers who declare world war three on the third world see by imposing the civilized virus upon a culture without papyrus, you carn't have a grammatical error in a(n) illiterate society. I smoke so much i start to bleed weed > start to feed mead to the worldwide brewers, who put fizz in the drinks to make em flat like a sewers running through the brewery wots up with that?

I might be the best MC because.....see below! Yo > i just put down history, now it's my story so pick up your pen, it's my time and the time is ZEN. removenovel of words meaning and sum ego, i mean scratch > that I'm the beast forget the rest now hear wee go; I came out to U.S in a bullet proof paper boat with a note sayin i'm arrivin in a submarine and Clunt EDwood was drivin, me inxane > sometimes my freestyles might not make mush sense sometimes my enviroment is cold and gets dark with suspense, I like the Jazzy snazzy raps n' i lyke the sampled handy claps, the raw funky blue note shuffles, on your tongue... they taste like truffles, shuffle snuf full note horn mute, and herbie hungcock solution, the real daddies of the scene no what i mean.....seen.....The clean crisp symbol bite all up in the licks, acrillic riddim sound rockin ground rummble wood stix, a word from the trees mapple staples of word, stix are born as word is Born > as the lawnmower man ringsmums yr/ lawn, i yam yam raw i like to ring ring the ride bell, snap snap the snare, i like to kick kick the bass drum i like to kiss kiss the air, i feel the snuck snuck pa boogie, know that the Krupper runs through me > I a drummer not Joe Strummer and hey man thats just groovy > i'm not sayin i'm great or good or even the best but thats what Differentshe-ates me from the best, thats wot put airs on your chest > a measure of Treasure is the Pleasure of our man George Best > till up till money field wheat tilling talk this point i held the pint back about george and the giant bean beamishmush stalk, football mediavine and the blood Rurgborgee > Beer good and living through sports and the difference between my analogy <> could harness the pow'r, if swordcast it may last 20 days and one hour, flower pow'r never seen a geniwine talka like me... you think i'm jokin when i say all things were born from a see [smiles] before there was disco or Plato or Paleolithic there were creatures on this planet whose "Porpoise" swummummy unspecific, terrific Jurrasic classic...these are all terms, in some sense we were all sons of Fungus and worms, back back, way WAY back in the day > there was vegetable matter. And whats fatter is vegetable matter speaks a NEW LANGUAGE. Phat like a slanguadge hammer gramatist > like netkwisk i whisk milky galaxy matta with simple Dimple alkaloyds > RNA voices and "form/formless" responsible choices. And response ability means > Response Ability to me > So what cha say aiy? Aiesy now. Tree of life, language poetree - Don't test me > Flower power is more than Plower fower, it's flower. it's's [listen] flowin....of My tongue from this song a message, woid is born - pick up your penns, your youth cartridges > the ink stained school shirt that got Blues from miss Partridges class, what a gas.... the teacher speaks to the child like they was a wild animal, an imbicysikle > all along it was the Adult at fault! the sad result of a virus called slanguage, placed in their lunch break sandwhitch and soldered > rolled re-moulded, hyperdaimension folly enfolded, cold fewzion, illusioned, since Tonguegustuss shemans had no fuss about dogs. Get dirty rap for days on little green cephalapods, like mod babes and rockers or Hip hop hers and Jam rockers > we gotta come together man. It's tyme to rub on our neybores knockerz. ZzKnickerblocker Blogger glory seeds for a vinal story, final theory, dark matter querry, whast's the spacematter...feelin queezy?, feel me breezy wind coming from all Quarters > hung drawn and quart netted to dry in a gallery from the Gutenburg gallery > flipped with a salad and an infinite salary My rhymz for FREE that's why they Envy me at MTV cuz they never herd a me, ste cuz i ain't got ta TV. Cudd be? You hear..... i'm out the funckin door > out in blue green-mold cheese electricked out fields > man......[grinns] if i was to bugin puttin all my raps into caps of different captain scarlet pimpinshell, eels, squeelers, trucker > jammbucq sloop john be gone > to the John a goats to langs end....that's owe fur i have cum/gone > to bring War to an end!

Cuz i really the end. I really do spweock poop out my rear end, and again; that's the pain and sufferring from the shire, knowledge of Brierley ill's bread line.... in deep pen dents! That's INN DEEP pen [B]dents[/B]. Have no master or employer, in fact would you believe i ain't even got a lawyer cuz it's live in 05 and I'm still alive > thrivin on mold and unsold testimony to the TREE's, Tease yes the Tree of Lyf. I say twice. DNA tree see deez, like ellis Dee and Jack John Cricket the river anaconda N/A > Slow down....oK [relights spliff that i forgot to tell ya i just lit] Now i'm the kinda rapper that feels like and sounds like, a crappper. That's a John toilet > don't spoil it soil it...let it grow into your flow > Doh ra me so sun Ra flow Doh > dope i got buckets, and these academic idiots can float when i smoke nuggets, wot you don't dugouts? sheets from atop of corpses about the media ant "hypnokraticlinguists" and stones > let's admit that these suckers on TV are quite good > i mean > sure they seem newer even if THEIR orse manure was a rerun from a mock up > from a banned brook still locked up in the vaultstream of Osiris, Cheoops cops hold keys, or thought they did until the keys grew petals and walked off into an underground vineyard > not far from where tinkers make love craft > anyhow i digress to impress the empress, to undraw the congress of suppression of THE BOOKS that grow on trees. [what d'you tink it grows on trees or sumthink] a dollar tossed down the sink, yin yang yen theory, superstrung out men's clubs theory, i'm serious > when was the last Female winner of a Nobel prize in in Anthropology? and who gave birth to the world > you me and each every Proffessor of Anthropology! We her it, themus > hour > all deserve an anthroapology.... A new astrology > from this day fourth givin birth be truth of Shamanic worth > Givin birth must be [cuz i don't know, although my woid iz bohm] that the womb, the broom, the witch the bitch, they too are natures whore, according to superstrung hung out mens clubs who clubbed each other till they were as clever as hedge hogs > spilt candle wax of ignorance on a wombmens fragrance > her presence > her intelligence > Essence of earth! mutter spiritten [arrrg don't start me now] she lord... she bought the word and i gracefully give it back through a time crackin hole in the muzzlemoon where i say i say i say like a Blue arsed baboon.... Look the Moo'N. MU. Muther. Her Milkshakes bring this cow to the yard. Cow udders of life, milky way. No way i say i say i say galaxy > nutella gutts and burgers flipped out galaxy > well all this is for womb hen, female: the Goddess, i confess and sit > my slanguage iz Egoo scripthor Acrillick Agarlick to express it. Compress and condense it Into luverly jubbly bubbly express packages > which will not be stopoped Until War has stopped against sacred sacrements > until Ghandi has assimilated hip hop culture through a fragile straw leading into his Tomb, still alive by the light chord ascending out > from HER womb. Zoom just one look and your their > electric eels live, breath, and... stalk in the air > jaguar: black, links and all cats and most dogs and, although i just dissed em my likkle friends the hedge-hogs > All spirits of nature all spirits be free. Bee free. Beee freedom. She it yes She erie erree > that's why Eye cayme ere cuz She was born Woid'O i sid it i red it i yam mittenmuzzle nozzle. Werd iz born, i'm werid like John Zorn, if i dropped names you'd be spinning on a Prattchet disc world. A novel, grovel, true grit, brummie slang grit a bit of gristle, no pistol and no hesitation to renounce my nation, of Birth. but wait.... I don't diss to impress. i am wooing the Empress!! you here, i come in peace like Wei Kung [B]Po[/B] i write my manifestoe with piss in the snow. like a Buddha i'm gone and don't release on know labell > I'm a mushroom fruntinted as a lush groom to a mechanical bride's pride > more than twelve feet whyde, and inside my wyfly toffee treats like those truffles, like those drum beats which started all this rithem sayinsooth soothin playin, gentle mental cushin pushin. [stop hatinn, stop it] peace ActiVism, assimilated through Trees and flower power, and the strength and will to change the hour with the POW'r switch OFF. Tune in, turn on drop out. Really!
This time i'm lookin for yin yang mills theory,
turntable windmills over dollar bills,
quilting bees
anarchy, [remeber me?] kunggrinaids coated in LSD swollowed and hollowed out in a phookin shout from the street, a feet. Cum on do it. tap tap....tap it....Tapped. Tap tap....clap clap. twist off your nozzles and nuzzles up to fly agaric's puzzles, puddle ducks floatin down streams that make voting seem like an extreme machine to bring the rise of the [psudo christian socialist socialism governator machines] Ray beams of hope are hangin on trees all around us, sniff the bark, walk in the park Damn the haters cuz heavens astound us, and the dogs of law hound us like we were reincarnated Ezra Pounders, and baggpuss cuz were so furry, harmless like Leary Ghandi and the Amazing Gandalf we come elf chemists of peacetimespace in yer face. Psychedelic revolution all along. Undeniable cuz it's presented by song, and don't get me wrong > i know i might be wrong [maybe] but classic poems and frantic rhybazone phones are born from woid, puzzle nozzles of Ezra joyce metapsychosister hear me, A rolls Royce of a voice. A Rolf Harris of a Choice: A happy wacky Aboringinal theory > more than theory a freestyle rap. So how about that > better get yer ruck sack and start packin for the revolution, y'all need the Cantos, the Wake > and a great big solution, to the virus to the language, to the third world famine of Imagination: a glove to hold bold statements above the law > Godly if you please, i'm down on my bees knees prayin yang two dictionaries, please your honour, your dignatories > bring the peace bring the word. And scientists look at me like my theories absurd. Well Word is born, word is born and i'll birth it again, and big Up Lyrics an influence i'm finding with all this woid grinding, but i grind on cuz the sun still rizinn like Howard > troopers and poet super doopers cumin out from the cracks with poetry in their backsacks, and poetry on their wack IPods, cuz maybe their not writin their own godz, maybe not makin their own pods, mods, plodding along in a branded human bandit pundit mobile = A whole wheat whole foods kind a homedown underground feel > A sandwhich to provide as bandage. i'm from stourbridge, i'm a cabbage kid born in the Woid. Thats Woidly to my peeps livin out in the void. i'm semi annoyed that my frayed wraps ain't flystarted boogie bass traps and dancefloor eruptions of contraptions to bring satifaction to science fiction's living godfarther^ but...Lo....i go farther with rhyme in the name of the farther, the mother and the oily ghost, like cheese on toast, i'm humble than mo$t i don't wanna get close. just dance and waltz wit my knobazerd to the wind > and send word from the end of the bugining that born me in woidly > it's true! how about you? wot you do? i'm a zooloo built an Igloo out of a supersematic glue i stole from the zoo in spain, i waited till the Dolphins spoke up > There with me on my truck stickin our finngers up to the stars and sayin: LO........we want nuthing more than to go, into outer spacetime for peace, and drink our wine and observe out time, space curved hips hops shroom boggy, it's foggy whear i werks and it'll send you bizerkz but luckily i went their and i'm back with said books in my sack: pouch: bag bog pucka fuka muck Lyetown bog, lowlife > pass the peas mob. durber stirrer hopper, mo, goat bass binnz my peeps back East the west midds treasure chest of chiefs of my truths. That's poetry not knowertree is the healthiest pint, it's bitter tu swallow but mild on the mind, when this poem gets posted in the town ceneter then roasted, charbroiled attacked and defaced [why stop..? i'll go roll another and crack another bottle shall i?] and i just burnt me fuckin nostrils on me small pipe, errr that smell. fuckin ell. better be more careful, like triffle i'm a triffle miffed. I just burn't my nose hairs what does that mean? i'm too hasty, too wacked out, too stoned to really work it out > well now i smell burn't haireynolds and it reminds me that i'm an Ape > a hairy ape on a BMX cyclyne Level slowwax sunz of psychonautical vertical time poets, vortex poem down in vortexas > coming from all quarters > Bringing an end to savage slaughters of peoples by ignorant dogmatic spoilt daughters thought cakes > a triffle remember december iz the twelff munth but, they are fookin wid us headz cuz.... DEC is ten = decad, decade...[see below] You know... Sep = severn so four heavens sake why mistake it for the ninth month? to fuck wid my head? well yeah that's it these calendrical pirates stole time day money mind tea n' poetrees and ganneymead like star seed ships they came to earth to hijack language, words meaning anything on your sandwhich landwitch, your peace of bread, money mind peace, love honey milk greece, i don't believe in a police state! local law, local language, freedom equality and justice for spores, trees flowers and the local nonlocal pow'rz of heavens, when the time has come and the score is eleven eleven i see a sign in front of my eyes that the timespace come to pull out a PEN and start writing again and again, until the light comes through, until woid is born unto you, three four five six steps, six hundred and sixty six push up's and downs with your nibbz, nozzles muzzles uncovered, red! broomcupboards opened, brothers released and sisters too > from the chains of law, from reality, culture and language: a study in B.S by some other B.S I don't dress to impress i come to make LOVE to the Empress, through her lace dress i undress my mind tapes and manifest rhymes more dangerous than the Nixon tapes, i'm a worm in the APL of the eye of ThundeaRa > a New Woid is born NEW NEW Eara ya Heara, cum on birth it with me release the gates the tapes the words the urges, [stop haytinn please i beg you] so just rap in the gap, don't slap on the po crackers, it's the source who's to blame and i ain't gettin into the _____ game, you see in America it's true, an swivel force has been onto you > tryin to trick and nick your mind > tunnel into your body and behind > nullyfy your poetic roots, rewrite the words which were a nice pair of Constituted boots, but the fruits of wizdom must come from the now! holy cow look at how dung cultures followed cow trailz to make roads Oh so toxick, fummes, exzurst horror metal rubber beats, no no 'it'all started black in the dey befour tyme hi on whyn and roses the possers try and imposses the Roses and the Wine but not the Shroom! not the kashrobabohm: They try and fly without the broom, and zoom > male dominator society is born ill > agriculture ill, brought agrow to bio-organism's and a whole sustained enviroment > never mind the governments and the taxonomy of reality, that's too much for me to Yogi bear, Yogi tea...yeah that's for me [staires in the air, takes a deep breath,] if you wanna keep this meter i'll beat yer! If you wanna new feature tsapleasure. I wanna keep my reverb shandy and sweet like Horace Andy, and like Picasso i want to paint Huffingtones of skyscrapers with lyrics from all the rappers who broke out from linguistic trappers and tuck cappers into their own castles > made maidens of knew funky vessels, and made a stage for the age when prophets turn a new page and say: Woid iz born!
Now let me do my thing... names fly agaric and i'm back from the dead, not over your head but presenting a bed, for us to lye on, discuss the sky on, and the ion will change Zion into the Gaian > and my rhymes are much flyer [wanted to drop that line since time] so keep your eye on, the new eara > it's much clear Ra when you look inside yourself and find the answers to life, cutting through the bullshit with a diamond tipped knife, this is lyf y'all > i'm sayin on my knees and i'm prayin.... To the trees and the plants and the Ignorance i got by the ounce for good foods, water, weed and clean fish, i want to see everybody in the world with some food on their dish. I mean WORD this is absurd that people starvin and dyin while budget for UFO's are goin up 700 Billion, or higher, i'm not sure, but the statistics are just more Horse manure > from the mouth of Math, the Percent(age), the wee(ate), the G.N.P and fuckin's who rock cdj's and measure wealth by what it pay's, and yet > the forrest is meltinn flash > the ice caps are being cut down > war is peace, ignorance is slavery, whats wrong? did i gettit the bong way rind? oaks steel works that's where my herit(age) sleeps with sheets and depleted beats in basements, fragments of revolutionary stationary from the dubble Helicks, my mother worked for god she made rulers and metricks. Freakin Shelix stationary > Station of very measurable and quantiflyable luverly sheeple!
And the rolling hills scottish kilt colored and ill spilt of autumn, brown brazen auburn't sun light, summerset, Clent, malvern Classic, picking shrooms on full moons and gettin spastic on the decks > midknight runner bean anti pop house parties > mo wax > Ninja treats with fresh mushy feets > schillins and sensimillitude. I'm ramblin
and in the mood for more DJ food, jouneys by Dj's coldcuts wuz classic i think, and also.... that time i went trippin to Birmingham ice rink, i sink > digress >> get back into the sub
Know more football or yompin i'm off to a club where the sun never sets where the East beats a drummin where the bay sayer, new lyric Birth love frisco disc spinning > ill revolutionaries live whole lyf wealth the HOP, The Hip Co-OP, Rainbow daygloo, tsall gud you know > Dead presidents of Rock and how to flyer a party, golden gates opened cracks in time, she was.....just of shore in 1967, she was a Whale called Maya, swimming off shore to ignore the bling singa celebratinn flash giggle gargle gargle spoof roof raisinging souls, i was wrong.... this songs long forgotten ramblin songs of the lost poet's, the Indian vibes, native American Alchatraz vibes, Like Milt jackson growing rye hairs on it, it being the soul of a long lost soul from a long lost region of what soma called religion, connection a complxion of communicative patterns, to be honest cognitive science can refute anything while it happens, cuz now's the tyme, and here's the place. Now. Be here,
Be squire, cubehouse of Hiphop Steel five, dub six, Heaven steps, eight balls, evil nine, decad. Not bad fora a Pie throwing faggorean. i'm like...Ian Both-ham i knock eights for Dubbs, i'm like Jack nikkle's son but skint and bent on peace. My names fly and i'm high cuzz i wear the lost golden fleece, no longer claoked but still daggered doggeared by the heavy load of social mode code, not spillin my load on any city toad, or unwrappin my entire mode where people never heard me flow'd like this. And i invented world piss > war and piss > what is this? it's a pun on peace silly > And although i'm fly i no longer have them tarts on my hilly fly agaric cap speckled red, wit golden blue blooded mushion from Way on o'er muntington groove. And don't forget i still got the miq and although most peeps prolly tuck a hike, i'll talk the legs offa dunbkey if it want me > for it's Hobby horse > Dada of course argaric flippin Momma, the drama rama tama pearl necklass > ZildZen children peaceful speakers and hand glassed hammered double sit down bases > and havin sex in stinky dark alien places. faces look pale
Like they just ate a snail for the first time, and this rhyme ain't french, buit it iz.... cuz the gaelick quizz izz nuzzlenozzle Ezra's puzzle: fuzzy logic magic tragic comic comic. And on and On the river flows.....and we're the undertows....but who knows mebbe the damn river flows out my nose, maybe the clouds look like my poems goes, like this give piss a chance and admit the APL might bee a mushroom, so computers were born from before Mr.Roy.... in antiquitea, well..... even before that, before they had anything there was DNA code Binary I CHING Chang mung minging mungst young change linguit tonguesses, like 20'000 busses full of the cream of the beat poets! > all singing and dancin their tale of the trybe, their ale on the vibe, their dent in the scribble puddle, the so called word, written with mitteens of bears i heard. No, i'm kiddin. But Life is a text DNA a puzzle, i'm, krackin it so move back a bit >
Bite mega gamma slamma salamander caught on camera, light matter wots the? on the platter, shit that's phat they got the whole rhyme on it. phat! spinning vinyl = vital discs for the revolution > so unwrap your tolken powder tapes, and reel out yer skins, i'm a bold bulled headed mutchroom rhymer with a big long white beard, Woid yes yes
That's the name of the game, void,
word you heard, my beard spoke like a nerd, and it's the third world war and were winning by far > but the tars still mac and the Fake still a faker, you write yourself a title like a butcher or a baker, carn't fake the skill's of cutting sheep or cutting loaves, it's the bread baby > for reel the mighty white currency of usury = The government censor my brand of mighty white powdered toast, woops, did i just drop the stalk that broke the cammels black, the white world war, black on white with yellow referee's, give me a break this ain't for fake i bleed the colour of seas! what i'm sayin is color, tone, looks or genes are just firther illusions made by categories. Categoricali i feel provern correct > Approximation of a super complex human organism with a word? what you expect? a dialect of Patriotism - Loyalty to ones own gene pool, i'm not a racist fool, i drewl this spewel here as a communicative jewel to release the Black/white power flower needed to bake a cake, were all from out the freakin Ocean and thats enough for ME! No need for any temple sacred ceremoney > i see my peeps and i see the enememe in side, and i cried, change must begin from me. Inside myself like Ghandelfi sez it reel good, the shire > the plyer Earth...the Fire....the Water....the Earth again to give [B]birth[/B] to the winds of change Ching Chun Mungus, a message in a hot sausage made from Psychoactive fungus, bangers and mash, in opposition to cash thrashin & mashin greed vultures > from all different cultures who tax, and make slaves of the poor people in their concrete caves, savin pennies for heaven's sake, wake up wake up!!! before the death of cold gets cha > pick up your microphones and unfasten your talktapes, it's time planet of the Apes got some new Retakes, Cornelius iz zeUs, no need to discuss, this freestyles so long i think i just missed the bus, the number nine it was from brum to the stour runs perty quick > nice ride comes every hour she did > once on the backseat oh.... wet and all sticky around Muckalows hill > man that was ill, i remeber Christophers American three and thinkin hell... why ain't they got a live MC? well hell it was fun and up town their in brum shit was kickin round the streets, i spun vinyls dyedon flisis drum and bass and slammin lyracists lyk smooth and the blues, man i seen a likkle bull ring fightin, and street reclaimin and spliff ingightin, and even in Brighton, and on and on it goes, man, my story so long it grow down to your toes > but tales unwind, blow and unwound and the sound brings the knowhour > i'm Acrillic fly Agaric > octosyllabic razor blazor > tied and tried twice imposter or sometimes called......silent but Dudley. Oh and don't forget when ramblyn mungst this ego sciptor that i strip for her, she goodness = the muther, gave birth to me in woidsly > she rang she rang, and it's true i'm wrong to stay away and throw away my cares to the wind,'s love
That i'm bringing > it's Joy that i'm singin, and that's why....and that's the

JO is for Jazz Octave

Acrillic Figa

Blue thunder thumbs half notes,

Weeping willows look all

Wes Montgomery.

Art Blakeys drums of experience,

Stix glossinging to

Animal skinheads.

Like a Taoist typesetter

Thelonious fingers -

Do the talking.

Hornet Coletrane Ellington

Fitzgerald Pharaoh

New jazzera.

Annalivia Elvin Jones

AfroJazz machine setter

Smiling physicist.

Unified field theory or just sheets

Of sound?

John Coltrane = physicist.

Alice Coltrane - timetraveling

Mother Harpist,

Mythological scholar goddess.

Kept Reel McCoy -

Ravi Pharoah Moffet

Harland - theology goods.

Inside the wheels of funk -

Sissy strutin spun

Clockwork -

Meters reformation.

ESP direct sustained Magus

Miles ahead

Above, and beyonder.

Potting string theory quilted with

Jolly Grant Green

Fields og gold.

Charlie Bird, Donald Byrd

Playing babyskyblue spells,

Birds flew far and

WG is for WAR GAMES: Do you want to play a game?

McKittrick: See that sign up here - up here. "Defcon." That indicates our current defense condition. It should read "Defcon 5," which means peace. It's still on 4 because of that little stunt you pulled. Actually, if we hadn't caught it in time, it might have gone to Defcon 1. You know what that means, David?

David Lightman: No. What does that mean?

McKittrick: World War Three.

E is for End of the football season.

  1. Freestyles for the sake of crillick for lick
  2. Anita tongue bung lung twisted tales carn't stop me,
  3. spillin til dawn till i yawn and lie back with my head
  4. on the ege of the bed - dreamin - stargates cogs and spiral galaxy
  5. travel - woundead whorlds like cream stirred with sugar
  6. in my coffee priXion

  7. Sure thing i'm humble as pie super baked bird
  8. plane, kamikaze freak home rule comet flash out the sky. Bck from before timespace beyond
  9. me and my peeps used to live in the pond at the back of your house with likkle doormouse,
  10. we run with wild grouse, door louse nation > Alphabets are off, c ords pulled out wall sockets, but lights still shinin low.
  12. lower lights tribe beat tanned tawny star bulbs - manga tanka vivid proseody. octosyllabik carved my dna
  13. out of a block of jello. hello! "
  15. noway! tiss true - i wobble as you gobble sweet raspberry - merry pie sized cake holy jiffy - contents spillin from me gobblets, aerospace pirates wanna go play star wars > i got knu's for your navy blues > live's with the sky, ocean eyes the hues of this postion, Azure deep whales know what i'm sayin yeah - 1o'000 leagues under the sea it gets darka, i'm down there, with Leviathon, Hobbes and swift's tale of tub, Rubber dub dub plate - walkin a straynge new land, born into debt from the second world war - 
  17. my folks were drafted into it by Newton. Aristotle put whisky in my Grandfarthers bottle. Same doctore put him on milk cheese and alchahol In ireleand > never met im, but i'll never forget im > [as i swig from the bottle for Belushi] Lenny bruce talk dirty but intelligent too - but most foul mouthin fakers seem lyk a really bad joke - a sad adult joke - makes me wanna puke in the jukebox > over them unpoetic tradjick approaches and encraochments into mysterious innocent young posters 
  19. End of the football season tickets sold out , poets bailed out on the woid, or were they hijacked and gagged robbed and burned shot and set up for suicide? poets of Sun/moon don't forget, thats never too cliche. Che she planet flows, all creatures, people dont loose it. Dont forget your galactic heritage - star born - Dont let hate sickreate itself into your sight. whorlds still ours. always wuz cuz we be the divine kings without staff and with graff. turntables microphones and a name to come, if you invite me to jam i'll bring kazzoos and me drum.

  20. ratta Tatta ting. and yeah - i gut
  21. swing unta skins. Grady tate's great when i'm curlin like a Buddha i'm learnin, fakers and taper's hoax shows of my flows, what i mean, sed sayin who knu and who knows?
  22. no charge - all electricity on the field - shroom guide to dummies, a cyclopedia in yr/ tummies.

  23. I'm born of irish brummies, yeah straight out the Industrial Bull ring of fire, bit like detroit - factory minds built by Marx Engles Manchaster slums spread evil capitalism. heh hem > each weekend kids still die on the street, lack shoes on their feet or a "GOOD" thing to eat. four reel > ill gangs and thugs still smoke the wrong druqs but with a mycological atalas in yo tummy you just start te'think it's all funny > teacup fury freaky brothers, i just entertain cuz outside and in > tv's just payne and corportate gain. again and again and again

  24. Words our kraft what we own, our poetry a radioactive field of protection. defense of meaning like it was my dog. defense of the craft freestyle > from the heart of no nation no agenda, race blood > Just healthy life lows just believe me as i weave
  25. you - and breath me into frost. most high tracked bounce track to track boom bass snare snappy. Although white my afro beats nappy. 
  27. I'm playin the kid, my conclusions illusions and i knew that much. remains unamed lessons in yangjung wrong
  28. theory, like leary tuck tiss sentunce and spun frontspace backblurr curvizz refracto morpho actions. What.... "shapes" i gesture .....[onward.] Up and into the future - pushing for a solution, real;ization. encouragement for my otherr peeps who wanna just wright but wunt just let go. let loose. Fight the powers that be, slay em each night before tea.

  29. Clear Channel 'poof" goodbye. No wires with just two texts finnegans wake and cantos bring Internet straight to the sauce perceiver - ridiculous you might be tinkin at fust, but baby baby please believe me,
  30. if the heavens fell tomorrow get a copy and swallow the cantos and awake. somawake and study till you bake and your tongue turns ruddy > Until cherry red lipsick appears to draw itself onto your lips, bringing your family closer, the familiar sketched in a mirror- tattooed onto your skin, a poem > de revolution in the minds of the people. steep and tall order, but odd numbers never been my forte. new scientific breakthroughs are being made, the chains of law> broken. Resurrect - direct - so eat well gather your strength - stop hatin! start marchin and gettin jiggy blunted > responsive , prepared. Not so scared. Freestylyn for free for unity

  31. between all MC's, web sites celebrate mostly party
  32. saddness kills me and i am drawn to it, remindead me of my own loss, in my own life things missing,
  33. absense the toast highest formation of pressence. Pressage of my gills brings golden juice to switch on the lights of new dawn, new age, get up somaawake. it's time heard it echo! . get up awake, todays the day - the woids baked frum the grave we splinter dogma like it was logs, keep eyes peeled out like dogs
  34. Independent no joke

  35. im still frsh out the yoke mathematical dope krunch table twine table tableau rosa - mind chess crest on my vest - eyes playing games behind my back at least thats how i'm feelin, animal farm gets brighter 1984

  36. Oh why in the presence of such beauty and bounty would you try and stop the clock - broken for 4 years.
  37. I'm from the future
  38. introducing masterplans, escape from planet earth with marching bands - beats to propell the sons of the sun, the daughters of the sons of the muthers matix arc malarchy. look up, the sky still sits amongst it's background, with it's own problums amongst stars and galaxies. loonies in power must be stopped, must be you might thing - at least, presented with some good food, andsome great music, mebbe they all gotta just get down get over it laugh get plastered and take shrooms. yi hee. be happy and skip about and act enlightened. I'm being sarcastic! can you tell? - the smell is your past work rotting, corpsemanure in the pastgrave, written and smitten. what's written dead on it's footnotes So i bust live from the hive who a bee acrillic maverick returned in times of disaster and panic, what the fuck else can i do, tread carefully until everything returns to "NORmal. I'm brewin kryptonight on the wheels winding flows till dawn if that's what it takes i stand the ground, although it's just ground up rice cakes.

  39. Empire of a donut glazed monster face lift!
  40. cosmetick tocks time for your knu nose job, time for
  41. your tity expansion - "implants" - credit cards,
  42. mobile phones > whatever makes you happy,
  43. well,
  44. if you knew you'd prolly drop a squid in yer nappy. Likkle braun nuggets of truth phill my draws, i pooped myself cuz my rhymazones squirly, don't know if it's jimmy dave sammy or shirly. it's late. No - it's early. merry gentlemen

  45. and women i'm spillin for thrills , might bethe illist > I'm deff called "crills' > growing wings and gills so i can live under ocean. respect is nills for trash talkin leaders, eye can see thousands bleadin for uncle Bushsammy? > disturbs me Like Ivan the terrible! Ghengis khan - killers
  46. thugs pirates, like a macrocosm of the local G crack dealer - global speed pusher and coke synthetic monsanto monster clause, i'm disgusted by the chemicals put into kids food, it's just rude man!
  47. wot cha doin? At the supermarket why you gottcha put bright Candy, choco and MSG filled Cows bones krushed up and called 'Kids super hero gum" you fuckin sadists. ?
  48. I'll, come put pounds shillings and sense inyour makers

  49. Safeway noway - wal mart , crewl stagga lee
  50. Sears go figure, in fact most money makers don't wanna consider the other options. Luckily super bionic critters are here!
  51. no more sicko posters here -
  52. playin off each others ambiguous puke,
  53. united in sour stale adult banter. wack and slack, go step outside. cool of your macho self and penis.

  54. Praise mountain, the crystal computer. praise trees and grasses for goods sake. yes, i mean it might feed ya, My poms from the heart i'm blunt and honest today -i always thought Bucky fuller had the mobile house made anyway,

  55. whats government doing - people stewing > whats anyone doing? well im goinf off topic bck to the supersonic, back to the building of the revolution in the minds of the people. not a moment too soon my minds on the moon, pullin waters too and fro > soon soon i'm patient. Just sitting observing drip drop beats and rock rhymes but not running for congress. i'm not a law changer, policy maker, meddler in others bizzness.

  56. Arts for change or just that we don't yet realize the power of our farts, if in unity we can cause a big stink, imagine if we filled a whole ice wrinq -

  57. what a smell > shoot hell what a stink new world order slushed down the drain pissed on. Control stuck inside alphabetical prixonx, break out!

  58. tell your fam and pops, time to write your book of spooks, speel the wheels, entice thrice greatness deep within your being, channel the flannel which washes the face of a bass line i ain't describin cuz you gotta feel it.

  59. carn't learn too mcuh. some might step away when i open my mind to the vultures and the critics > deep thinkers: thought police hackers and wack exec's.

  60. there all out there waiting for people like me. fresh faced genius with a hot cup a tea. boilingover off the temperature scale, blah blah, i should remind y'all agen what i say ain't set in stone, that's my punch line, i don't stop,

  61. respect to plurality but what we are doing is shortcircuiting gravitea, reality and authority.
  62. don't believe me ask yourself, what ingrediants you see left on the shelf,
  63. microphone [ dusty and unplugged] - takes my eye
  64. i have waited and contemplated the players and craft builderbrothers - The cannibals of Europe are eating their litter. zukofsky make a rich man puke, angleton gave your aunties heart attcks. Unbutton your shirt now baby, it's info for sexual favours, i'll tell you the passwerd to my "skull and bones ' mens club. No nation owns me, contain or refrains me spittin > these truths spill over hills and mountains, far and yonder hey listen i got sumthin to say > i'm acrillic

  65. not a critic, i've been shinning all day. hey,
  66. wots up in your local neighbourhood? who's the baddy the robber? who distributes your facts and how?

  67. Bread line was left to guide me to back to castle, grab my sword and cut the kingdom up into 22 pieces
  68. split em and be as cosmopolitan as i can make myself, afro celt tibetan irish bards, made of nothing but love - yeah LOVE i said it. sey Cheese. Thugs need love and doves and pigeons. gang's just describe a group in the plural, but with added social moral poop. Here's a scoop >

  69. most troops talk poop and peace talkers talk piss. in fact all the preachers talkin more stinky manure - funny to see donkey dropping splatter stunkle out of knowers gobbs. worries at the same time though. Angry mobs of knowers with horse manure falling from their chops, smells like the army, smells like the cops,

  70. i'm droppin science in the name of humanity, meaning gets twisted for rhyme and your sanity.
  71. Don't stare just continue like that, i'm not fruntin, don't wanna prove nutt'n just grove and add sumth'n - fly agaric muscarinik flavour naughts - element zero at each momoent i perceive, i read the notes on my sleeve about building stargates

  72. to lands of Ellingtons standards on rotation. be bop futures spontaneous, beats carn't be heldf, marchin bands, snares rata tata rap slap rim shot, flutter like a rattle snake tale. A male, big one angry rattler must think of the force, no anger, no hoarse. [i cough and think to myself am i proff] from cambridge or oxford, or is this ox crap which spills from my glands?

  73. am i in the runnin
  74. got a point you recognize?
  75. re size the universe and put yerself in, make a edit and feed it back to the sphere - medias live don't feed it in 0h phive. become the media more and more each day, microphone pychologist everythings possible, most stains washable. frum worsster sauce i first dribbled, from the UK you might say and then i woke up dribbled to the land of the free where pounds shillings and sense mean't nuttin to most > no beans on toast and marmalade no > decent chocolate in the 711. I'm in heaven 20 years ahead, but 12 years behind in my blind, gagged and bound hijacked state > love you all, i'm here to help

  76. i carry raps i got the torchlight tight > tonight i sprint wirless back from the primordial ooze, dialed and projected i'm sorry if you observe me as absurd, abstract or silly. yo, my names cap chilli call me fly hash or crilli. it's the twentyfirst milly according to many but each day is your own event horizon > your chance to become fully satisfied. remember the past when we was not under threat from the returned nazi storm troopers? and the propagandists. i recall my youth when i tucked in the world to my stinky shorts and farted between nations. Creating inflations and economic situations that effected - as it turns out, over nine other nations too. holy hole in a dionut. i'm doin it live. shoutin me gob of in the name of cheese. havin fun readin yes i seen john cleese. My projects funky half

  77. finished never spell't wright cuz the empires aflame, set alight by Dada, Vico and Voices of Joyces ghost's, Hi ho > a toast !
  78. to escaped scribes > drove mad by a world in a straight jacket, hooked on nothing put the bright packet. cozmetic souper kosmick christmastime > bring the truth in a broth,

  79. Suntergrass, grass and yoga maps to the cosmo alignment code. tricks to puttin chakra's in a puttin line, knockin bones into alighnment, wishn i was a chiropracter of this government. last night i dreamt i was a poet and woke with the cantos impressed in my nose, Adams and Kung Fu fightin it out in my temporal lobes, straight to the flows. who knows > ninja cuts cut and transformed, rewound plus six, damn!. is this thing on.....?

P is for Pickapen: write a pickled peppoem in my YOUTH


by Steve 'Fly Agaric 23' Pratt.
2005. California. USA/

Eye see you
th' glass of tyme, slowly melting
into new forms

Glass being transparent, like my
tongue thats apparent,
how not to be impressed, upon this window -
my nose smushed up against the payne.

I see children playing, lungs full of fresh air
sky blue n' Everything in its right place.
Suddenly - i get a flash through time, its 4 billion b
sea-side thats before me.

Scholar mysticks throwinged biscuits to
divine the future, but it's no ordinary bread,
like she said -

"Live from the Bread line", in space and time..
Power of moons in runes to undo these
baboon tunes.

The domesticated primates in revolt.
Language revolting the revolution
measured in amps, heaven
it was always volts, revolting apes
with a finger on the switch.

Treatin women and kidz
like a troopa treat his bitch
bomb dropped flaps

kindness, forgiveness, co-operation.
These are the jewels of peaceful living.
And i feel it.

In these times, in the walls of my
adulthood i hide, afraid to paint the ceiling.
Afraid to paint my meaning.
And i dont stop.

keep turning over words like runes.
So to bring flowers and foods to government

in the windows of my youth
i find the soloution, foating in the aether,
in the wendy house i play'd in.

Imagination was the key to me becoming me.
You see, me was ste -
likkle kid with glasses sin the windows
of my youth

i used to wear dubble glazing - my werds
were splintered my paintings amazing.
yet the older i get the more i forget
about my paint palette.
thanks for fillin it. bringin it.

Crills spills down yr window, like
moisture layered between implicit and explicit.

if i was a prophet i might guess
that the future sounds like Charlie Moffet.
in my windows i draw pictures of letters.

letters scholar mytics forgot. letters
i remeber while lying in my cott.
When my head got hot, in windows of my youth
i got steamy and created condensation

poetry for a nation. In my windows
i see digits in mackintoshes.
Traded keys for brushes
beer for mushies.

In my windows i used to
draw gates in the winda moisture
conducting heavenly muzic
with my little finger, drawing in
the condensation poms for a nation.

Locked in youth i brake out
when the clouds open.
In my windows i found
doorways, paths to the future
of graffs.
Like prof' Giraffes in masks.
Rewound windmilling turntableux

Clarity became the gravity
to prove to me that the dance
is wot it's about, the dancehall
fire creatin' moisture

hot sweaty dancers
i saw in the windows
of my youth.
Age 10 i looked down at

the bottom of the pool
goggles misty moist from super
bionic chronic sonic prayers i kicked
out my feet.
swimin through windows in my yoof.

Then i got out the pool
looked around and thru
school. So i finished up my time
and made friends and got drunk.

In my mind i was a goddisturber,
in my dreams i was a punk.
an orgasm addict listenin to the Clash
and Buzzcocks in my windy memora.

 I threw rocks and authority.
It scared me even then. Now it's proof.
You gotta' be fckn' hooked on coke
to not see the "reality" being stuffed down

our throat. in my youth i was
unprepared for the new world order.
In my dreemz i used to
order chips and a battered sausage
a bottle of milk

so suckle nipple muther lost
and mebbe a point of beer takes
me myd off of the big mind?

likkle did i know
that by next year the "dark forces of evil
christian socialist materialism
the republicratic,

consolabour liers and prize pricks
the male dominator culture I
was unprepared, in my youth.

Now I got my tongue chemically
laminated with souperflowous bong juices.
in my youth i tripped with fear/and
i still do

lets get that clear, here it's
Hiphop culture eara neara
although the beer slowly fogged
my googles

and the water trickled down my spine
full of Chlorine, and i became cheimcally
imbalanced, in the wintaos of my yutt

they put metal in my mouth
I knew not about floss
ignorance might result in
the loss of my teeth

but and i can still hold a
spliff in my mouth like a rocket.
boom boom i drop woids,
to move and fix thoughtz.

words for worlds
sake cuz hot weather
means shorts bro'

My windows were long
stretching from ear to venus.
I used to think the world wd/ never get
bewteen us.

Until Bush and company
popped up in myroom and i got
swept up, and out the door
with my own poetic broom.

Zoomin out to
space like Zao
Ming Chan.

I'm spittin some fittness.
fly in the jam.
Slamb ram aword configuartions into
my text for the masses,

putting maybe in drinks
and hoping it lassez.
lasts or lass-ou's all writers
to throw down their blues.

99 percentage of humanity in question,
waiting for a meal, a dime a light
The fights underway and i'm not
qwhite lookin straight.

Still dancin in the wild white west
with the Bohemian groove

Blackapocalypse on the T.V. Culture
pirates imitate gangsters
who's masters are priests,

TV execs. excuse me
while i flex some wind from my youth...
when i thought the Hospital was
hospitable, when i thought

god wuz good before i found out
that the devil was just d' eevil
and word warriors hold
hopes in their imagination

And i imagine the windows
of my youth
have enabled me to see back
and feedback my seedback to back
to life -

to reality, reelee. Spillin crillic
it's about 18 feet deep,
in dreemz of spacetime jump.

i just fell asleep, week to week i weep
willows for my home,
the pool the pond lake side
river side, o'er the pond.

Snakes pulling ladders
from pour window wipers.
Window cleaners left hangin'
with butchers and with cobblers.

Cops and Robbers,
the family mum and pops store gettin
eaten by Bigness.

'Industreel Cannibulls of europe are eatin their litter.

These letters slide out from beneath
my finger nails onto
the screen.

Power cord pulled tracks slows down.
In the windows of my yute
i played flute and kidz follow

revolving thoughts, I was a bird ,
it was a Robin or was it a swallow.
I dunno i forget.

But Obe One Kinobe told me some
trooff about ice sickles,
and rhythm ripples,

Government be cripples, clogging the
system with unpoetic sentences relating to
bloodline rites and alphabetical
prison sentence.

self re/ferwrenshull turrrenshal terrestrial
anthropocentrick tried and tested true
liers the size Sirius B. I mean the size of
Dizzy's cheeks or dirk digglas wiggle.

i got fresh perspective in the windows of my youth.
Unhooked, unhinged - unimagined and tonicked.
Subsonic soothsayer - with leo sayer
play'n on me rekkid player.

I say i say i say. In the windows of my youth,
i read this poem and blew my own head away.
The football season has not finished.

The final whistle has blown.
Fakers are in power blood suckers on the throne.
reptiles repin guilt, in 2000 years more blood has been spilt
than houses the so called "civilized" built.

So....i'll quilt a new path on the fly right up
your legs and into yr/ eye, a whisper in silence
on the wind up on one hind leg, i beg the elements
to condense electricity and provide
power in this hour of exhibitionism.

poll liturgical things weigh way over the hill.
Yeah thanx you pick'd me ballx up rather smartly.
rather slight of handfully.

To brand an idea into the souls of my feet,
i have set keel to breakers and think funk it. xheet.
Live raps which rap up my tongue,
been dripping salivia pluralbellend
and now i lap up, like a prayrhee dog,
like a leary frog - light_-lee dunk.
Amber nectar, stick'n to me bckteeth your wright.

Mouth full of metal i got.
But the dentist likes me. implants
poems in the roof of my mouth -
roof of the world, axis mundi -
praxis tuesday - taxes wednesday -
waxing - thurdsday, my daY iz fli day,
a why day, knu dey.

Sun light and growth, imitatin my brudder
o'er pond frum howth. gro'th and groves
perception of different directions.,
erections and elections share similar
fractions in math and poetry and language
drip from the sam weepin willow noses.
passion has been looted from the fruitfullness
of our collective heritage damn it.

Our group porridge - now hoardin
in the "NwO's garridge,
greedy blodd suckers lurk on the corner,
my peeps out in the streets sayin
"No "to the man, and werkin a slave life

we "All "slaves, and when you
wake up your tongue
takes over, no stoppin the word

when it hunts down the brutes,
the real heart of the problum,
heart of the beast

The imperial empirckle mirakle of the reel,
howz that for a start? me arts in it -
farts crumble empires built on gas
and hot air blown down ugly old fat white men,

not just white but all greedy. corpses gotta go,
waiting for them to die. yes. And in the meanitime
i'll unfasten these strapes, write it write it.
dont fight it. fuel to the fire, lick it. ignite it.

Don't listen to nobody but your self,
your own 'Angels" mine are just jewels on show,
find yr/ own mind own it zone it clone it
and send a message to the breakfast table
of the cosmic blues burgar flipper
- the everyday chap - everyman, everywomen,
that's who writes these wordz -
tryin to reach an equalibrium,
not all human but the tree if that be my story.

I the record, the needle tipp flipped dub
rubs in the jam, shakin dancehalls while
the best minds of our world are commited
to describing the destruction of our learning
center's and Kultures of aboriginality.
One world party is a two edged sword
word, a Occamickle chemical quation.

A quaver of love
Party in the face of disaster.
Love the blues, feel the hurt and loss

compassion to come with. But
don't let images and pain prevent
you breaking down the barriers.
from calling out the fake.

half fak'd theory called 'Realism"
it's up to me it's up to you too,
so watch me stew my mind here

souper rap ego broths boil.
like a cook and professor of mythology
went nuts in a grave yard
digging up recipies from 3000 B.C,

diggin in the creates of the
phantom, sleepin in coffins like
vampires, counts life coin

from eggyptian lodge some
magical pirates are at war with the children.
tragedy of gravity imposed on the
young and flips and flows of this sung
left in dung.

music two hours a wik, math 8
geography 6, English tweleve,
History 9 n' half hours

Political mystical experimentation
40 hours a weak.
Kids playn in the yard just hangin out,
rolling, goofin, slackin, it's alright ma
i'm only goofinn Huck

Conneticut Clements -
imagine your there,
be the poet be yr/ hero.
Doctor savior lover muse and
then share bare bck to backstrokes.

open legs to autumn
and feel the gushing winds of change,
easy breeze.

Xneeze raps and wipe em up
with tripple clean X skip keels
to breakers, unstrapp the rapps
round the harbour, she shanties
about the salt sea moisture in panties

submarine coloured they were, lime green
Emerald panties skipper, tighty "greenies"
my flow watched em' down 20 thousand
leagues i'm hot on fire,
talkin shit, forkin it

the words got me matey,
pirates stole the world
The word was snatched like a bag in
shoreditch, oh maytees
in a council state of mind,
im feelin that.

Baked beans and marmalade
dreams, lucid clouds and maxwells
hammer in the hands of John Bon'
singin tzolkien tales of Ol'e england,

Welsh, celtic root round the
breaky table, milky tea, dull silver
spoons reflect the down out high
rise lab'

skippers set keel to breakers
to the waves, break out and be free,
re-connect yr/ Turntables
dump yer CD's Im not on vacation
i been here for years

amongst the cosmos, dollar race runny nose
like watchin "Liberty" skiddin down slope,
illusion familiar as cousins.

demons in sugar coated macs,
the devil in a record industry chair.
And i grow my hair,
stair fwd, rwd, reality
get a load a me, fuel for the fire
word is born Ohm

To Toast Higher.
Well im pullin down raps
rolling in my own dung,
singing my own sung, mebbe a bit
too long?

so although i still ain't "gettin paid"
and yet still, i'm gettin planty laid,
i must say that i pay my dues.
refuting civilization.

Pulling down the veils of illusion
"hung" by the great pirates,
the thought police who tell you
which which is which,

well i got news. "Glitch"
in the
core it's more
like I Ching to me,

Zeropoint probability zone.
instant. now. Zen.
refute all science,
reason and common knowledge.

All blown to the wind by the throw
of a dice and consultation with the oracle,
whos optical tropical chronicle
bionicle ancient temple
of natures cycles, seasons, equations,
archetypes, colors, branches, stems,
so on and so fourth it goes.

We are still just waiting for the new flesh to dry.
Painting wet in galleries.
artists damp with perspiration.
Anticipation of the revolution.

Language bck' in the handicrafts
heads and hearts of the people.
never take that away.

Tanks roll in the street,
and i bring them crumpet
and tea bags for breakfast.

Teleporting planets here
in by the back garden shed.
nuff said. Acrillic spill it. unedit.


WINDOWS OF MY YOUTH by Steve 'Fly Agaric 23' Pratt. 2005. 
Edited Jan. 2012.

Acrillic Figa

Today im gonna look for a face lift.

Acrillic Figa

Acrillic Figa

[starts rolling the next joint]....a lot of timespace has passed since i last posted. Reading Alan Watts has been difficult and testing. Although in some sense he holds the Kryptonite, the antitdote to our "media monster word virus run wild in the western lands" )+()_()+(

[takes a swig of red nectar beer, pulls on spliff] Since i last posted i have also spent months working towards the publication of maybelogic quarterly - a labour of love which i am still recovering from, in regards to being subject to it's contents. As editor i was able to work right up until the very last few hours with the content of my own pieces about hiphop and the New scientific language of maybelogic. Without cell phone, television or regular internet access i am able to project "Internet" onto just two texts which i am currently embroiled and entangled within; Finnegans Wake by james Joyce and The Cantos by Ezra Pound. Both of which seem able to telecommunicate certain structures through the air - like wireless internet. I know it sounds rather strange but i am not joking about the power of poetic verse and meter, especially when recited or sung and danced about, shouted maybe even, to "teleport" what you might call "Web sites"
Out of thin air.

Get the two texts and try it. I swear it's better than gameboy

Acrillic Figa