Showing posts with label dj fly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dj fly. Show all posts
FLY BY NIGHT 186
Steve The Fly is spotlighting the new vinyl release of John Sinclair’s Beatnik Youth album from IronMan Records in England, produced by Youth and featuring the late great Howard Marks on the opening cut, plus sides by Sonny Rollins, Sun Ra, the Miles Davis Sextet, Eddie Jefferson, Selah Ragab, and Johnny ‘Guitar’ Watson, and a closing cut from Sinclair’s Mohawk album in honor of the late great Lee Bridges—The Cannabis Poet.
The John Sinclair Foundation Presents
BEATNIK YOUTH
FLY BY NIGHT 186
Steve The Fly, Sarwar Studios, Cross Keys, Wales, November 20, 2016 [SFBN-0186]
BEATNIK YOUTH
FLY BY NIGHT 186
Steve The Fly, Sarwar Studios, Cross Keys, Wales, November 20, 2016 [SFBN-0186]
[01] John Sinclair & Beatnik Youth: War On Drugs featuring Howard Marks
[02] Sonny Rollins: Til There Was You
[03] Sun Ra: The Other Side Of Time
[04] John Sinclair & Beatnik Youth: Sitarrtha
[05] Miles Davis: Blue In Green
[06] John Sinclair & Beatnik Youth: Do It
[07] Eddie Jefferson: Come Along With Me
[08] John Sinclair & Beatnik Youth: Brilliant Corners
[09] Selah Ragab: Naveen
[10] Johnny ‘Guitar’ Watson: Gangster of Love
[11] John Sinclair: relaxin’ with lee
[02] Sonny Rollins: Til There Was You
[03] Sun Ra: The Other Side Of Time
[04] John Sinclair & Beatnik Youth: Sitarrtha
[05] Miles Davis: Blue In Green
[06] John Sinclair & Beatnik Youth: Do It
[07] Eddie Jefferson: Come Along With Me
[08] John Sinclair & Beatnik Youth: Brilliant Corners
[09] Selah Ragab: Naveen
[10] Johnny ‘Guitar’ Watson: Gangster of Love
[11] John Sinclair: relaxin’ with lee
A JOINT PRODUCTION
Produced by Steve “The Fly” Pratt for Radio Free Amsterdam
Post-production, editing & annotation by John Sinclair
Executive Producer: Sidney Daniels
Sponsored by Ceres Seeds & The Hempshopper, Amsterdam
Special thanks to Sarwar and to Mark Sampson for the Beatnik Youth vinyl
Produced by Steve “The Fly” Pratt for Radio Free Amsterdam
Post-production, editing & annotation by John Sinclair
Executive Producer: Sidney Daniels
Sponsored by Ceres Seeds & The Hempshopper, Amsterdam
Special thanks to Sarwar and to Mark Sampson for the Beatnik Youth vinyl
© 2016 Steve Pratt. Used with permission.
http://www.radiofreeamsterdam.com/fly-by-night-beatnik-youth/
http://www.radiofreeamsterdam.com/fly-by-night-beatnik-youth/
G is for GODISTURBER. (CHU & FLY)
One purpose of this web site is to build up a database of work from both CHU and FLY that approximates a guide to new audio technologies through the lens of our different artistic goggles.
THE PIG WILL HAVE THE LAST GRUNT. BY ACRILLIC FIGA 2007.
THE PIG MAY HAVE THE LAST GRUNT. By ACRILLIC FIGA (steve 'fly agaric 23' Pratt) 2007.
Pigasus
for Prez’ of Swineland 68-69 & 2012
pigs in space, pigs in time;
in the Chinese year of the pig: 2007
i put my pen to the Tusk
In soilydarity with lush Miss Piggy,
Hogzilla, Napoleon, old Major and Pigsey,
Wilbur, Professor Strangepork, Picasso, Pigasus
and Porky pig
pigs in space, pigs in time;
in the Chinese year of the pig: 2007
i put my pen to the Tusk
In soilydarity with lush Miss Piggy,
Hogzilla, Napoleon, old Major and Pigsey,
Wilbur, Professor Strangepork, Picasso, Pigasus
and Porky pig
The four
legged hog that the label
refers to is innocent of man’s crime.
treated as Swine, in many lands pig denotes
refers to is innocent of man’s crime.
treated as Swine, in many lands pig denotes
bad Authority,
uncleanliness,
consumerism, greed,
and a BLT
consumerism, greed,
and a BLT
What intricate
conspiracy afoot
set against the animal kingdom
against the plant kingdom
set against the animal kingdom
against the plant kingdom
the human
barn-yard mind,
orchestrated by Farmageddon
what vgetable vendetta?
orchestrated by Farmageddon
what vgetable vendetta?
Rolling in mud, eating shit
and their own litter, once in a while,
parallels modern arms factory
economic practice.
If you can stomach a capitalist pig
don’t snap your wig over cannibalism
pigs act pretty peaceful
they don't make Nukes, deploy troops
most roll with styl, most roast.
Pig as profanity! pig police authority,
pig brother, animal in salts.
The pigs may have the last grunt
as the year of the pig makes its course.
--Steve fly agaric. 2007. Edited January 29th, 2012.
I Talk to the dead pig in the sandwhich: Pigasus for Prez of Swineland 68-69 & 08-09? Pigs in Space, pigs in time; in the Chinese year of the pig in 2007' i'll put my pen to the Tusk of taking all pigs to heaven. Napoleon & Old major pigs, Ministry of Pig: 1984! Porky Pigs limbs litter the swine factory floor, Pig as profanity! Pigs as the Police authority, Pig Brother. Animals used as insulting metaphors for humans but Machines, Poisons and sleeping robots rule us? Ass drunk and/or stubborn as a mule like Pigasus parroting the whole dirty Bay of Swine thing, War pigs crawling Begging mercy for their sins - sang Sabbath, But the four legged HOG that the word PIG refers to is INNOCENT of all crimes leagilly piggily crimes! Just a bristly pink critter! There seems an intricate Telepathic Conspiracy afoot against the animal kingdom. And against the Plant Kingdom and supernature, from a human-plants point of view. Orchestrated by humans or machine/Robot/poisoned humans. V' for Vegetable Vendetta. Other than rolling in mud, eating shit and sometimes their own litter (Which makes an illuminating metaphor for modern Arms factory economic practice, invented by Humans), Pigs seem peaceful and intelligent to me, they don't make Nukes, deploy troops or go to Church. The Hippopota-muses lament for their HOG kind Treated like Swine, the pig has become the Animal word used in Western Civilization that reflects the characteristics Of Authority, Uncleanliness, consumerism and greed. Greedy PIG! A poet in solidarity with the lush Miss Piggy, Hogzilla Napoleon, Old Major and pigsy, Wilbur, Professor Strangepork, Picasso, Pigasus and Porky - i hereby swear to clear these Swine of their stereotypical image quickly and their Stereotypical place in human history and knotted Language as Stupid dumb and dirty cheap fodder; useful at Christmas time with a little gravy tea to dip my TOE into. Dirty grunting Ugly pigs until Served up With a little Sauce. The pigs will have the last grunt as the year of the pig makes its course. --fly acrillic/fly agaric 23. 2007. taken from world piss: the spore of the words.
F For Fiffty One DEGREES LAUNCH DJ SET BY FLY AGARIC
51 DEGREES LAUNCH DISKS.
22ND APRIL 2009. WILD BUILDING. DIGBETH. BIRMINGHAM UK. 8.00 PM.
DJ FLY AGARIC 23.
GRAFFITI BLUES – BLUE MITCHELL
IF ITS GOOD TO YOU – EDDIE BO.
TAKE IT ALL OFF – BO DIDDLEY
SILLY SAVAGE – GOLDEN TOADSTOOLS
SOUL POWER – JAMES BROWN
BUMPIN’ BUS STOP – THUNDER AND LIGHTNING.
LOOK-KA PY PY – THE INVADERS
HEY BO – EDDIE BO
BO DIDDLEY-ITIS – BO DIDDLEY
THERE IT IS – JAMES BROWN
STREET PARADE – EARL KING
BO DIDDLEY – ART NEVILLE
JUST KISSED MY BABY – THE METERS.
LIGHT MY FIRE – SHIRLEY BASSEY
LIGHT MY FIRE – MASSIVE ATTACK.
BACK HOME – YUSEF LATEEF
PEOPLE SAY – THE METERS.
LONDON – DAVID AXELROD
SHOO FLY MARCHES ON – DR. JOHN
FEAKS FOR THE FESTIVAL - RASHEED ROLAND KIRK
THERE WAS A TIME – JAMES BROWN
DIRTY HARRY – LALO SCHIFRIN
FATTENING FROGS FOR SNAKES – SONNY BOY WILLIAMSON.
SOME MOTHERS SON – SANDRA PHILIPS.
LOVER AND A FRIEND – EDDIE BO & INEZ CHEATHAM
DOIN’ THE POPCORN – KIM MELVIN
I’M A GREEDY MAN – JAMES BROWN
MIRROR – CHARLIE MARIANO.
AFRICA – THE METERS.
BRING DOWN THE BIRDS – HERBIE HANCOCK
LICKING STICK – JAMES BROWN
LOOK AT GRANDMA – BO DIDDLEY
CRISS-CROSS – THEOLONIOUS SPHERE MONK
TAKE THE ‘A’ TRAIN – DUKE ELLINGTON
COSMIC SEA – MYSTIC MOODS
NIGHT TRAIN – JAMES BROWN
BULLIT – LALO SCHIFRIN
HEY JOYCE – LOU COUTNEY
AT THE SOUL IN – COUNT YATES AND THE RHYTHM CRUSADERS.
MAKE IT FUNKY – JAMES BROWN
QUALIFIED – DR. JOHN
GROOVY BABY – KIM TAMANGA
CHICKEN STRUT – THE METERS
HOWLING FOR JUDY – JEREMY STEIG
ARE YOU TOGETHER FOR THE NEW DAY – THE LOVE EXPERIENCE.
I’VE HAD IT HARD – BO DIDDLEY
I NEED HELP – JAMES BROWN
WHO STOLE MY COOKIE – THE PHILIPS BROTHERS.
TAKE CARE OF YOUR OWN BUSINESS – DAVE HAMILTON.
SWEET POTATO GRAVY – MAURICE SIMON AND THE PIE MEN.
WALK TALL – CANNONBALL ADDERLEY
PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER 1 – JAMES BROWN
SISSY WALK – BILLY BALL AND THE UPSETTERS
CISSY POPCORN – PRESTON LOVE.
CISSY STRUT – TRINADAD TRIPOLI STREET BAND
ZA ZU – WALLY COX AND THE NATE BRANCH
FOUR CORNERS – LEE DORSEY
THE RUBBER BAND – EDDIE BO AND THE SOULFINDERS
SPONTANEOUS SIMPLICITY – SUN RA
JAZZ CATS - MADLIB
RHYTHM-A-NING – THEOLONIOUS SPHERE MONK
DISTANT STARS – THE HELIOCENTRICS
LIFE – DR. JOHN
Thanks to CHU, and to Laura, Pete and Olie and the Jibbering krewe. Each of the songs were played beginning to ending by myself in an improvised order.
CHU. 51 DEGREES. RETROSPECTIVE AND AUDIO RESPONSIVE.
Symbols and symbol systems reflect off of canvas in a semantical pin-ball gallery. The meaning from each view point in the room changes as the symbol systems encroach upon the viewers perceptions. Smoking fine, yeah your right. Hanging portals and pictures you can fly through in a spaceship, a world of audio components, electronic, mechanical and manual. Communicating vessels from another world, where solid state entities inhabit audio components and where rogue tribes of interplanetary beings hunt down the beats and grooves to make the Universe dance.
Every wire, plug, jack, socket, stylus, speaker and tape entity is grounded in earth – the foundation, the beat and the groove. Music. Music, in some sense is what connects all the pieces on show by CHU. Another way of seeing the work all-together in the gallery is as sound amplification and manipulation – a reaching out by a visual artist over to the sound world of music. A lead, jack, socket, wire, record..to plug into, turn on and power up. In the back of your mind you can now plug in the correct pattern to gladen’ the heart. A stereo guide to word sound image power. Turn on your mind and take the tour.
THE THREE CHU PIECES THAT WERE MISSING!
1. HOLE IN THE WALL
2. BORN IN WALSALL
3. CASTLE GIFT SHOP
These three pieces of gigantic size are great testament to painting OUTDOORS, and are a reminder of the 100’s of OUTDOOR works, 1000's by CHU that are way to large to bring into a gallery, and they are on a wall anyhow, for christs sakes. For anyone who has stumbled upon this writing about CHU’s exhibition: 51 DEGREES – keep kicking yourself as a reminder that he has also painted the world’s largest single-handed aerosol mural! But he would be quick to tell you that world records don’t mean half as much as soul records to im', the audio components and the will to dance, groove and make beats prevails. I will extend my sentiment here to all the Graffiti writers worldwide who are bringing language up to speed using new tools and keeping the four elements interlocking between the streets and the cosmos. Yes boss.
THE RISE OF THE AUDIO COMPONENTS.
After the turmoil of the world banking palava, and the downword spiral of language into Ponzi schemes and overspending the planetary forces have reorganzized and deployed themselves to help humanity rise out of the slump and into the long boom, the perpetual crash of music. BACHWORDS. When audio equipment can grow wires and jacks like a living plant, or when electrical power can be hijacked, along with the infosphere – by biological entities – they have a high probability of taking on the form of communication devices, and symbol systems (hardware and software.) Hardwired and crosswired language bubbling beneath and without the Blackcountry’s equivalent of Japanese Manga. NO, not the rise of the machines, the congress of the audio processes. The interplay between audio components pulled down and out onto canvas by CHU, with the space surrounding them. The forced MUSIC in the head, brought about by the visual cunning of the audio engineered world. AUDIO RESPONSIVE. Remember. The pieces lead into each other.
Maybe the tessellated patterning exhibited on the 3 Pieces - titled MECHANICAL, ELECTRICAL, MANUAL – are indicative of the hologramic style of CHU. Most things i have put down here are nothing new to CHU, he has been sketching this world for more than 12 years. But now we have a manifest environment that pitches the work together, projecting chronological, geographical and aesthetic relationships between the artist and his different mediums of expression. In the gallery space you can feel the holographic forces at work, and can slip on some 3D shades to view his tricky third attempt at a self portrait for the literal graphic 3D experience. Yet on another level i see the broad theory of CHU and his worlds morphing and blending with whatever comes his way, to mean that at the gallery space you can see the development of the pieces and how they fit together. The fitting together of the works seems to be yet another level of tessellation on behalf of CHU, and this method is directly exhibited in the two M.C Escher tribute canvases. And then we come to the cube. And tessellated perception. Immersive environments.
The cube remains beyond description. And the most difficult thing to capture with words. I might start by saying it is a room, built with 4 walls, a ceiling and a floor, but after decorating and chuscaping these numbers flux-chuate depending upon where you are looking from. The form of the cube seems to be related to the average height of human sight, so that distortions and impossible objects can formulate in the spaces, using that data as a starting point. The content of the cube or CHUBE is further scenarios from the rise of the audio components, this time hooking into and out of the giant alphabetical words: ITS NOT BIG AND ITS NOT CLEVER. Icons of electronic music culture, remix culture and audio engineering anarchy, turntables, tape-loops and speakers on the loose, chased by cables through cityscapes, chased by phantom power leads and microphone jacks. The electric word, electrified, like the mechanical bride - the words rise and the machines too, in a great torrent of seeing. In the cube i see no nouns, i only see verbs.
Meanwhile projectors spit light shows and pixel reproductions of moving images, more invaders of the real, chu’s animations and graphics are a book in themselves, from the Walsall Illuminations installations to the VJ shows and animated gifs and computer games themselves, yes. Just take everything i wrote and put more verbs in, the moving images re-circulate the meanings quicker like a semantical windmill, spitting out graphical beings, solid state entities and more. And more...
The exhibition also has the largest ever collection of YOUR MUM RANG memorabilia, a stunning sight in itself, although not immediately making the global extent of the sticker campaign visible in the great OUTDOORS. CHU has been dropping YOUR MUM RANG for 8 years as far as i know, the first sight of which i saw in San Francisco 2002. Visit CHU’s flickr site for the ongoing words to your MUM. Or think about creating your own campaign, transform your environment. Just on it.
CHU seems to me to be of a new breed of aerosol artists, a pioneer of the field and a master of his class he continues to push the edges off and out, keeping the raw experimental edge with the precise tried and tested methods of his craft sharp. The cube was a great effort to arrange, construct, and prepare for CHU, but he laboured on with the project and deployed his CHUMOMETERS to startling effect. TOTAL IMMERSION!
Steve 'Fly Agaric 23' Pratt: Acrillic
51 DEGREES: AUDIO RESPONSIVE AND RETROSPECTIVE. pt. 2
CHU EXHIBITION from Trav on Vimeo.
http://vimeo.com/travart
THanks TRAV. Good JOb.
Click on the image(s) below to see the fullscreen 360 degree panorama(s):
(opens in a new page, requires Apple Quicktime)
For anybody who couldn’t make the show in Birmingham, view the main room from three different angles. You can also view the cube too.
If you’re interested in having one made, let me know.
Its possible to create them entirely in Flash too, without the need to download Quicktime, view the high resolution example of the experimental cube.
| posted on May 04 2009
Life is short, the art long, opportunity fleeting, experiment treacherous, judgment difficult
-Hippocrates
Nearly my whole creative experience I have been toying around with virtual spaces and thier exploration. Since I began working in CGI (on the ZX Spectrum VU-3D by Psion March 1983) and then into papercrafting and print techniques, I have been on a mission to merge the crafts and techniques and give the user experience more validity, or basically give the onlooker a super-human power, instead of me, the artist.
For years I had considered the cinema 360 shows at the seaside and the stereoscopic applications, with red/blue glasses etc. that are familiar, hi-tec experiences you can have in many venues in various cities around the world. Six years ago I hit upon a technique that would replicate, or reverse engineer, the effect of a Quicktime VR movie or QTVR. QTVR’s construct an all around photographic experience from a single viewpoint, in the centre of a cubic space. My thoughts caught fire when I considered that it could be a real cube, and the centre was the natural, average height of a human eye level.
Click this image to see a small version of the demonstration model that you can print out and make:
For 6 years I believed the object necessary for this centre was to be 12 foot by 12 foot by 12 foot. Just before I had the oppurtunity to practice the concept, it hit me that the natural centre of a cube, a 5 foot 10 inch person, would require an 11 foot 6 inch cube.
Rich Holland was the keen craftsman gifted with the task of building the walls and ceiling on the floor of the Wild Building in Birmingham. It took 3 days and over 2000 screws.
The cube was launched at the preview night on 23rd April. To aid the viewing whilst the door was closed the very able Peter Dixon fitted a pendant 150W lamp 3 foot down from the centre of the ceiling, evenly casting light into the corners of the cube.
I have to admit to getting a little cabin crazy whilst I worked inside the cube. After a while I was unsure what was the floor, and what I could rest on whilst I worked on the ceiling and floor. The sheer scale was a little ambitious in the timescale of the show, only two weeks to view this manifestation of a crazy idea I had. I hope to return to the next phase and hopefully bring it to London. In the meantime, enjoy a little version I made of it that you can view on-screen (Apple Quicktime required)
Click on the image(s) below to see the fullscreen 360 degree panorama(s):
R is for Revolution 76:
Preview-post preview post.
hots the warts the post apocalips press against my neck, she b. . . . H's on me. I feel her gaze like elle lane, or Loius XII stealth iludead my clouds, ill moods and want to escape the new nazi lake-like gathering and Vegas and freestyle thinking in the moment as a dangerous poem, if i keep going flowinonflowin and on, like a water wheel in a laffystour river severn eight miles long, flowinon off my tongue, me acrillic flowin to showinside my dowm, whom and i amyou am see eye aisy now, don't have a cow man i see gaylynn escapin with imm her and big hitter, all in a boat valoosian lake, regrouping and poop inflating, new saucer sauce spreading and rumour of fernadango flammingo phadandingdongo poo splatter fighting. Az a food fighter i fling ceaser salad, ha i love food fights with sacred scriptures out upon the countertiptop, old can a worms, beans, unopened > up top of that cupboard where the cats ashes are, up there behind the pickled onions the german sour cookies and the moldy bavarian breadstix. Reach for em...for crying out LOUD reach for em, arrr and now i have them cakes in my grasp, and just then they slipped, i tripped thought first thought beast thought, like breastthought watching breasts walk by, [Oy, ello....ello.... yeah titty makes me smile a mile wide, i watch sundial rings glisten, wonder if sundial rings glisten and do not glisten illuminating Eleanor and her calendar meanings etched in gold rings > her, meshed up Goddess worship causing civilzed slip up wording, she > herding poetry like sheep wearing T-Shirts saying "turf war" what is war Huh, and what is it good for? Huh, blood lines sniffed like coke to fizz up hopelessness, or word as the frontear to hold magic and power for ever and ever > open and communicated open and stinking censored corpses rotten cores bursting with news of flower power houses > knu battery powered mobile churches which are cloud banks and tree's that walk on the air and land and grow so slow > we don't know just how who and what to do when they will run and jump a petrol pump emselves up and down and to drown emselves and their roots > in the waters of rebirth, word waterfall, rushing movement of Rustle and bustle and out of the box THINKING. Just let it go unfasten yer plaster scen er. Re: Unbrace yourself for the end of word and the bugginging of the woid, turn professional and bring Tao with our empty bank and account and lack of doh. Duh. No money! Is this kid crazy, watch me, and clock this, my own piss is worth more to me than a TV, it clears me sea, itz biological and a good friend to me, my piss is more mee than any poet or good writer. My own waiter > tekks the piss out of me and then provides interesting chemicals for the turf around me, woid is born bugining, backtofront and all mixed up a disclogikjockey jabber wookie from kasyyyck weird az Ants on the street with luminous bodies walking in twelve tone scale patterns, harmonic harmolodic melo, spray pee up into the wind and send skunk word of the absurd, yes to good government, order and good well written sensible documents and binding equal fair well researched stuff. Course. What doya take me for > a nickemmickenpoop i regroup my thinking like Pounds seal half hemisemidecimated squashed Azure sprinkle transparent and rocks wrinkled water back and through psychotic breaks and paralego graphs > i mean E.Playa and JJ smoking all day reading! and my eyes bleeding tunnel syndrome in my 76 76 76 dome > the sign of the Beats box and my beats box out a new pattern patt ten. tetrasickness Piefaggersaurus decimal decimate but twelve and now severn and rainbow and five and three trinitron and trinity and Shemshamale android babe with hairy breast and armpit whisker cat like North Japanese Shamaness poetess yes yes, she [meow] the one from Ming Ching, she with the Zildgen breath, Sonor smile, birtch wood booty, silver sparkle dress under red hood, riding, ting takka ting , drums of Orient, Goddess of nepal . tribe Siberia Goddess > North East west sosuth under waterground spacewaterice hydrogen slush, my ears are your punching bag > yes yes, a venus woman from Mars with stories of Sirius, I am sonourust and she metal me kee like Mao, put druqs in my drinks and twisted my tongue to showe me how i go into retreat, with beats rhymes and life, riddim warfare and word virus, flowers powers and a big knife. Not rambo but a small flea with a dictionary, and a spinning wheel powered by an EEL, electric kin nature creating fields in nature, her....power > dunt ert yer. 76. Any page woid is born here cumz everybody, the sickness the virus lies Dead as Joyce Dead as Voice: Dead az me > those who refuse to go head to toe with flow, those who just pontificate from upon the red glow cuz well i dunno they carn't let go the talkn tapes ticker tock time signal thrapes without brakes and tumball of danger fields like Rodney Bruce Mouse and Watts oscillated hertz, meters tang dinner for stephan, a fan blowing wind round quarters in a square, block, four, to eight to 32 feet and 1 foot running dripped from 76. woid is born. Sppok JJ and SpookEZ see eye to eye in 76. word is born nine hundred and ninty nine years and i have waited underground inside a capsule mysillyworm netword sleepting, awakened by a telephone ringing Acquataine and again 76. From Lawnmower manchu. from all quarters i rize like Zilla 76. GOD izz zilla thrilla illa miller brown down trodden rotten red apple wonder hood buster wasson banker spanking leary queer as folk talesnail brail, yeah > wet fingers are gathering around all orifaces. A square peg to my pitched tent D/C coded and unexploded, an implodingdung private stash of re:chords, hell and withheld high water or else, unrevealed and open sealed forever, open, closed, sealed for ever, Pi Polo so far RA ray so so to go phlo and drop drip ego nectar like mango nickter knoc knock halloween soon octoberlarone chocolate autumn muth of decay and synthesis and poetic growth twist symbols into vortex reflecter defenders, we hold our shield and pentacles and tickles and bicycles chaines and pens and crayons all sharp, oozing with glitter gold purple blues, like brother we storm the church of starry wisdom, the church of the page, the mindscape, scrayped't painted scrawled and sriggle bedraggled > characters lookin like fraggles breath fire past whiskers whiskey Orange whiskers whisked my mind orange yellow sunset, smoothie on the beach, sun sets weed pipe glowing, i'm a writer in winter in birth, don'y know where i'm going but a tribe must scribe what reel live now, thats the only way out now, i see i say i sow, seeds of discovery, look and read, reed watch the Forest grow on me like Forest reads TV mckenna shobhan theory big/small in out and up vinyl passage ways up vine aireals onto the eithor and my pumping aiyseyorta pumps more crimson love for you, live and breath write and LOVE and don't take no sheet from nobody, be bold and strip and tease love and lifestorm love you. Breath and sing aloud i am who i think i am and nothing will rot my everlasting jamming minded slime rhyme, my mucka, my mate, i see you at the gate down here with me, outside the walls and deep in the jungle with the beast man > i have been known to sleep in the park > barking at the moon and loving the molecular paradise of dice and men where i invent tent pegs to keep us inn > saftey through a storm > i'm the freestyle poet here to warm you to make you hot and not forget me knot moment to moment intergration, knotted high to lower potential, greater to lesser and great lesson. greater to smaller and small example and ginyoung can bring drunken sung to sun sungs of sam being wrong about patriot and the bongs of warfair, the wrongs of written character combed out of our new aeonick goddess whig, Gold fluffy. unkle face twig sits on the brazen forest floor, RED my fox eyes and snapped by silly boots of apes in commando gear> night vision and armerpiercing tracer killer technology and not a detection for rare twigs or [even] a prayer for slugs, no ZEN soldiers of fortune measured in Dollars. Not even yen, yet agen and again and agen i'm running like water, flowing river blue green ruddy feel this bad poem rolling > stinki sewage once was in me but i pooped it out about an hour ago now i feel better, i can net a flow like aunt flo net her hair, i don't care no more to bore hell out of masters and critics, i am a poet woid flow born now moment to moment a hero age, divine golden calf and jesus Christtea total toast tally hairy ism jism gymnast > in a whole plaster cast of my own, i hope to own it > own the flow and un ownership that sails in a neverending ocean and around a neverending globe a circle or new world order which has us coming back to the question of woid, self other, brother? sister teather weather machines. intelligence weather machines intelligence, weather or not. or either, eyether the weather. Or nature or not nature. A furry alphabet or not a natural thing un-naturalk walking in a KINGS garden: unaturalness. Natural rural. un-naturallness you high ness, royal green brown blu black blloded afro goddess, rainbow child yes natural un-natrailness and un-natural naturalness > of all colors and shades you can think of and all the ones you missed and still others you rinsed out your hair, and some others just fell behind the Temple LOOK > Chapel we are IN HCEAPL = Chapel get in and out of trouble. But don't mistake me and thi$ for a loosing of mind and/or touch with reality, reality really really i am still hear. Hear me! And i am still going into space, alphabet chur lyf, up and out 76. spamm and jamms some say just a bunch of rhyme ridden nunsense, well R crumb sends his wishes and my illustrator will be here soon to bring extra bruises to suzy and her Uzi, to Billy and his wilyl, to John O'Bombs , Jimmy nuke, mathew math, pauldestruction, david death and Sara sun of. To all of you [your just a nametag labelword] pick up your pen and scribble for your difference, your life, describe the tribe, write your mantra for Ha ha ha's sake. If you don't speak now then forever hold your piece of mind just inches from the grind > on the mind minutesir maching, kept just behind the mindwasjing machine and the other machings and rise'd like Easter 1917, machines make mistakes that rise with guns and will come and go a day late, those with pens will stay immortal till twilight of the writers and spellers and risky whisky spill windmillers > crazies starting crazes, masters and innovaters, masterbaters water skiers, skydrivers, and searching and digging in the creators, looking deeper searching vaults and seacrates deep about project Northwords, Angleten new directions and Mor__n s_____y and yet > spinning spines hurting from sitting and typing sooo much trip > I'm gonna need a crutch i know that much. No horse or house job lunch or money, not so funny to have 3 dollars stuq 6000 miles from home with a revolution on my tongue, tied to a crazy notion for musical creation and no phone calls and not much feedback and never a reel warrior to comes to join me, bond my word > must be deaf dumb stupid or in trainsition, or already got a job or in the mob, or mebbe already got my reins. [Oh dear oh deer] and is pulling me through and through these timestables turned over four leaf clover over cycled renaissance again and round through again Finnegans wake. what to think condense long winded bog sprawl, long bindy binding singsung lunging for air fresh on the dawn bird calls in my English ear, beach waves blowing and sewing the last flowing words from my heart > ann nonymous flow to sew seed of revolution in character as acrillic Ode for free to my blogspot and illuminatea total freestyle spot/blemish on maybelogik's hot school of magic and mayhemisemidemi revolutionary spunsters, spin miesters lurkers and government jerkers all running and exchanging flows with one another like FUCKUP's > other than the lurkers and spies who's spirit dies in their silence and their stealth chokes them and the poet finds peace in negentropy. My woid weird and live off my tongue > Owe i speak howl and chit chatter > and my beats fatter we will get to thatter pitter patter matter soon enough so cuff up a penny for yourself and don't mind me, i got three dollars fifty and a name to come sea > sew money and poetry they just don't mix, thats why these words burn holes in pages, too poor to publish but , too proud and antagonistic > exstinguish the word imperial empire and truth, god one is and ever > out of existence, Vamooche > all things not with me exstinguished and then.....love of invisible nothing and the woid, the formless my bride, the empty my love sweet tender nothing, potential in my satchel bag of trix 76. 76. 76. revolution page severnty six on each and every text brings the convex to the concave and truth more believable than the holes in my teeth. I'm chewin freestyle cookies blowin fear out my but, and, them, so, yes and to it, once more breakdancing around the garaj i knocked an old oil can from the squid green cracked old shelf with my twizzlyn right leg, 'ASrr fuck" i sed, cuz i spill't black dupontblued on the flewer flower it did flow and on and so of coarse i'm with the udder dog till my last breath i come shouting > kick out the jams motherfuckers > cut it out count me in > i'm with you and with your mother, i work for nobody, no nation and i have no boss > and here comes all body boogie bass dancing youth warriors > youth had enough, up to here, up ear and hear with it, the bullshit and lies, hippocritical adult lies of Newton, Aristarsehole and even fried > these were not to be dissmissed as very good thinkers, nice blokes really i imagine and tonic > and generous kind of chaps, but, don't stop there my friends keep going, and deep into the library vaults blavatski and Puharich and into deeper waters and quarters Fenollosa and Oriental philosophy spelt correctly, and look there is a big gap where it should hold the book of "J_yce and the am___ta _usc_ria" and here i sit,.....waiting for a miricle and mirror and free money maching, so i can just bloody eat and breath and sleep without worry of all those and these things > all those civilized things to do, and i wonder what why and whom might hear me, believe me and sieve this rap? and conscieve of me when i'm back around and underground and maybe written in hebrew on your sleeve . around and about the river management schemes because enviromental science is the place NOW > it might seem to get close to her, or will i just be toasting here > cutting down bush and rogue trees and weeds > draining lakes and digging new shapes into rivers. River stour got re: shaped by industry and masonry business cuz they gotta have their business with nature and money and business and nature and money and 76. One world writing in the style of and pattern thrown to winds of change Ching first thought best and to trumpit Ripple she i dedicate my cast of past thoughts to him > but atleast atlas is resher than your tarot of the tribal encyclopedia melopoeia > so bite me or join me, step into the moment > i dare you! stare down yourself and the Illuminknighty [hitched up] with their magical calendrical dribble voodoo science fiction garter spook panties > no ordinary cop would be here so true and guess what .....Miss Sutra is right here with me > incarnate black afro goddess with Barney and Saul and all the charatcers from history mystory yourstory Bob's story and more birds sit unmoving on the telegraph pole across the street. now squeak squrak tweet like rockets or arrows > bird speak > bubble robin hawking swallow chatter high pitched warble and telephone ring ring, DNA wires in social conditions all but vanished, i'm hungry, so hungry...i'm famished, out here on a wing and prayer, living on fresh air and borrowed lungs stolen books and swindled computer, false prophet and banned care giver to RAW, these freestylz ill be the death of me if i open my gob, open my mouth ceremoney and talk bruce Gypsy dirty sometimes it feels like that but not today. Nine hundred and ninty nine years in Ireland i lay > Awake. Dreaming awake of the woidllness, the muddle way, the miggle piggly chapter from the critickle pathway leading to a gingerbread and Pound cake house. Where mice and men live like rats with margret Thatcher roofs, rayguns shot me in my childhood, Born in 1976 a full 200 years after the great brotherhood started operation desert storm. And the bundle weed blows on the prayer RE: and i hear a call in the distance, a song, a twelve tone scale full yrealized and self actualized > a connection to the sky goddess with words and poetry > the Native American Indian Totem of Peace had returned to my mind, inside my meditation dome this is what i sparkle and spit up the walls and mandala patterens overpower my voice. i bow to Tao here and Zen again agen. bow to Mind, bow to body, bow to speech Ohm. no place lyk
hots the warts the post apocalips press against my neck, she b. . . . H's on me. I feel her gaze like elle lane, or Loius XII stealth iludead my clouds, ill moods and want to escape the new nazi lake-like gathering and Vegas and freestyle thinking in the moment as a dangerous poem, if i keep going flowinonflowin and on, like a water wheel in a laffystour river severn eight miles long, flowinon off my tongue, me acrillic flowin to showinside my dowm, whom and i amyou am see eye aisy now, don't have a cow man i see gaylynn escapin with imm her and big hitter, all in a boat valoosian lake, regrouping and poop inflating, new saucer sauce spreading and rumour of fernadango flammingo phadandingdongo poo splatter fighting. Az a food fighter i fling ceaser salad, ha i love food fights with sacred scriptures out upon the countertiptop, old can a worms, beans, unopened > up top of that cupboard where the cats ashes are, up there behind the pickled onions the german sour cookies and the moldy bavarian breadstix. Reach for em...for crying out LOUD reach for em, arrr and now i have them cakes in my grasp, and just then they slipped, i tripped thought first thought beast thought, like breastthought watching breasts walk by, [Oy, ello....ello.... yeah titty makes me smile a mile wide, i watch sundial rings glisten, wonder if sundial rings glisten and do not glisten illuminating Eleanor and her calendar meanings etched in gold rings > her, meshed up Goddess worship causing civilzed slip up wording, she > herding poetry like sheep wearing T-Shirts saying "turf war" what is war Huh, and what is it good for? Huh, blood lines sniffed like coke to fizz up hopelessness, or word as the frontear to hold magic and power for ever and ever > open and communicated open and stinking censored corpses rotten cores bursting with news of flower power houses > knu battery powered mobile churches which are cloud banks and tree's that walk on the air and land and grow so slow > we don't know just how who and what to do when they will run and jump a petrol pump emselves up and down and to drown emselves and their roots > in the waters of rebirth, word waterfall, rushing movement of Rustle and bustle and out of the box THINKING. Just let it go unfasten yer plaster scen er. Re: Unbrace yourself for the end of word and the bugginging of the woid, turn professional and bring Tao with our empty bank and account and lack of doh. Duh. No money! Is this kid crazy, watch me, and clock this, my own piss is worth more to me than a TV, it clears me sea, itz biological and a good friend to me, my piss is more mee than any poet or good writer. My own waiter > tekks the piss out of me and then provides interesting chemicals for the turf around me, woid is born bugining, backtofront and all mixed up a disclogikjockey jabber wookie from kasyyyck weird az Ants on the street with luminous bodies walking in twelve tone scale patterns, harmonic harmolodic melo, spray pee up into the wind and send skunk word of the absurd, yes to good government, order and good well written sensible documents and binding equal fair well researched stuff. Course. What doya take me for > a nickemmickenpoop i regroup my thinking like Pounds seal half hemisemidecimated squashed Azure sprinkle transparent and rocks wrinkled water back and through psychotic breaks and paralego graphs > i mean E.Playa and JJ smoking all day reading! and my eyes bleeding tunnel syndrome in my 76 76 76 dome > the sign of the Beats box and my beats box out a new pattern patt ten. tetrasickness Piefaggersaurus decimal decimate but twelve and now severn and rainbow and five and three trinitron and trinity and Shemshamale android babe with hairy breast and armpit whisker cat like North Japanese Shamaness poetess yes yes, she [meow] the one from Ming Ching, she with the Zildgen breath, Sonor smile, birtch wood booty, silver sparkle dress under red hood, riding, ting takka ting , drums of Orient, Goddess of nepal . tribe Siberia Goddess > North East west sosuth under waterground spacewaterice hydrogen slush, my ears are your punching bag > yes yes, a venus woman from Mars with stories of Sirius, I am sonourust and she metal me kee like Mao, put druqs in my drinks and twisted my tongue to showe me how i go into retreat, with beats rhymes and life, riddim warfare and word virus, flowers powers and a big knife. Not rambo but a small flea with a dictionary, and a spinning wheel powered by an EEL, electric kin nature creating fields in nature, her....power > dunt ert yer. 76. Any page woid is born here cumz everybody, the sickness the virus lies Dead as Joyce Dead as Voice: Dead az me > those who refuse to go head to toe with flow, those who just pontificate from upon the red glow cuz well i dunno they carn't let go the talkn tapes ticker tock time signal thrapes without brakes and tumball of danger fields like Rodney Bruce Mouse and Watts oscillated hertz, meters tang dinner for stephan, a fan blowing wind round quarters in a square, block, four, to eight to 32 feet and 1 foot running dripped from 76. woid is born. Sppok JJ and SpookEZ see eye to eye in 76. word is born nine hundred and ninty nine years and i have waited underground inside a capsule mysillyworm netword sleepting, awakened by a telephone ringing Acquataine and again 76. From Lawnmower manchu. from all quarters i rize like Zilla 76. GOD izz zilla thrilla illa miller brown down trodden rotten red apple wonder hood buster wasson banker spanking leary queer as folk talesnail brail, yeah > wet fingers are gathering around all orifaces. A square peg to my pitched tent D/C coded and unexploded, an implodingdung private stash of re:chords, hell and withheld high water or else, unrevealed and open sealed forever, open, closed, sealed for ever, Pi Polo so far RA ray so so to go phlo and drop drip ego nectar like mango nickter knoc knock halloween soon octoberlarone chocolate autumn muth of decay and synthesis and poetic growth twist symbols into vortex reflecter defenders, we hold our shield and pentacles and tickles and bicycles chaines and pens and crayons all sharp, oozing with glitter gold purple blues, like brother we storm the church of starry wisdom, the church of the page, the mindscape, scrayped't painted scrawled and sriggle bedraggled > characters lookin like fraggles breath fire past whiskers whiskey Orange whiskers whisked my mind orange yellow sunset, smoothie on the beach, sun sets weed pipe glowing, i'm a writer in winter in birth, don'y know where i'm going but a tribe must scribe what reel live now, thats the only way out now, i see i say i sow, seeds of discovery, look and read, reed watch the Forest grow on me like Forest reads TV mckenna shobhan theory big/small in out and up vinyl passage ways up vine aireals onto the eithor and my pumping aiyseyorta pumps more crimson love for you, live and breath write and LOVE and don't take no sheet from nobody, be bold and strip and tease love and lifestorm love you. Breath and sing aloud i am who i think i am and nothing will rot my everlasting jamming minded slime rhyme, my mucka, my mate, i see you at the gate down here with me, outside the walls and deep in the jungle with the beast man > i have been known to sleep in the park > barking at the moon and loving the molecular paradise of dice and men where i invent tent pegs to keep us inn > saftey through a storm > i'm the freestyle poet here to warm you to make you hot and not forget me knot moment to moment intergration, knotted high to lower potential, greater to lesser and great lesson. greater to smaller and small example and ginyoung can bring drunken sung to sun sungs of sam being wrong about patriot and the bongs of warfair, the wrongs of written character combed out of our new aeonick goddess whig, Gold fluffy. unkle face twig sits on the brazen forest floor, RED my fox eyes and snapped by silly boots of apes in commando gear> night vision and armerpiercing tracer killer technology and not a detection for rare twigs or [even] a prayer for slugs, no ZEN soldiers of fortune measured in Dollars. Not even yen, yet agen and again and agen i'm running like water, flowing river blue green ruddy feel this bad poem rolling > stinki sewage once was in me but i pooped it out about an hour ago now i feel better, i can net a flow like aunt flo net her hair, i don't care no more to bore hell out of masters and critics, i am a poet woid flow born now moment to moment a hero age, divine golden calf and jesus Christtea total toast tally hairy ism jism gymnast > in a whole plaster cast of my own, i hope to own it > own the flow and un ownership that sails in a neverending ocean and around a neverending globe a circle or new world order which has us coming back to the question of woid, self other, brother? sister teather weather machines. intelligence weather machines intelligence, weather or not. or either, eyether the weather. Or nature or not nature. A furry alphabet or not a natural thing un-naturalk walking in a KINGS garden: unaturalness. Natural rural. un-naturallness you high ness, royal green brown blu black blloded afro goddess, rainbow child yes natural un-natrailness and un-natural naturalness > of all colors and shades you can think of and all the ones you missed and still others you rinsed out your hair, and some others just fell behind the Temple LOOK > Chapel we are IN HCEAPL = Chapel get in and out of trouble. But don't mistake me and thi$ for a loosing of mind and/or touch with reality, reality really really i am still hear. Hear me! And i am still going into space, alphabet chur lyf, up and out 76. spamm and jamms some say just a bunch of rhyme ridden nunsense, well R crumb sends his wishes and my illustrator will be here soon to bring extra bruises to suzy and her Uzi, to Billy and his wilyl, to John O'Bombs , Jimmy nuke, mathew math, pauldestruction, david death and Sara sun of. To all of you [your just a nametag labelword] pick up your pen and scribble for your difference, your life, describe the tribe, write your mantra for Ha ha ha's sake. If you don't speak now then forever hold your piece of mind just inches from the grind > on the mind minutesir maching, kept just behind the mindwasjing machine and the other machings and rise'd like Easter 1917, machines make mistakes that rise with guns and will come and go a day late, those with pens will stay immortal till twilight of the writers and spellers and risky whisky spill windmillers > crazies starting crazes, masters and innovaters, masterbaters water skiers, skydrivers, and searching and digging in the creators, looking deeper searching vaults and seacrates deep about project Northwords, Angleten new directions and Mor__n s_____y and yet > spinning spines hurting from sitting and typing sooo much trip > I'm gonna need a crutch i know that much. No horse or house job lunch or money, not so funny to have 3 dollars stuq 6000 miles from home with a revolution on my tongue, tied to a crazy notion for musical creation and no phone calls and not much feedback and never a reel warrior to comes to join me, bond my word > must be deaf dumb stupid or in trainsition, or already got a job or in the mob, or mebbe already got my reins. [Oh dear oh deer] and is pulling me through and through these timestables turned over four leaf clover over cycled renaissance again and round through again Finnegans wake. what to think condense long winded bog sprawl, long bindy binding singsung lunging for air fresh on the dawn bird calls in my English ear, beach waves blowing and sewing the last flowing words from my heart > ann nonymous flow to sew seed of revolution in character as acrillic Ode for free to my blogspot and illuminatea total freestyle spot/blemish on maybelogik's hot school of magic and mayhemisemidemi revolutionary spunsters, spin miesters lurkers and government jerkers all running and exchanging flows with one another like FUCKUP's > other than the lurkers and spies who's spirit dies in their silence and their stealth chokes them and the poet finds peace in negentropy. My woid weird and live off my tongue > Owe i speak howl and chit chatter > and my beats fatter we will get to thatter pitter patter matter soon enough so cuff up a penny for yourself and don't mind me, i got three dollars fifty and a name to come sea > sew money and poetry they just don't mix, thats why these words burn holes in pages, too poor to publish but , too proud and antagonistic > exstinguish the word imperial empire and truth, god one is and ever > out of existence, Vamooche > all things not with me exstinguished and then.....love of invisible nothing and the woid, the formless my bride, the empty my love sweet tender nothing, potential in my satchel bag of trix 76. 76. 76. revolution page severnty six on each and every text brings the convex to the concave and truth more believable than the holes in my teeth. I'm chewin freestyle cookies blowin fear out my but, and, them, so, yes and to it, once more breakdancing around the garaj i knocked an old oil can from the squid green cracked old shelf with my twizzlyn right leg, 'ASrr fuck" i sed, cuz i spill't black dupontblued on the flewer flower it did flow and on and so of coarse i'm with the udder dog till my last breath i come shouting > kick out the jams motherfuckers > cut it out count me in > i'm with you and with your mother, i work for nobody, no nation and i have no boss > and here comes all body boogie bass dancing youth warriors > youth had enough, up to here, up ear and hear with it, the bullshit and lies, hippocritical adult lies of Newton, Aristarsehole and even fried > these were not to be dissmissed as very good thinkers, nice blokes really i imagine and tonic > and generous kind of chaps, but, don't stop there my friends keep going, and deep into the library vaults blavatski and Puharich and into deeper waters and quarters Fenollosa and Oriental philosophy spelt correctly, and look there is a big gap where it should hold the book of "J_yce and the am___ta _usc_ria" and here i sit,.....waiting for a miricle and mirror and free money maching, so i can just bloody eat and breath and sleep without worry of all those and these things > all those civilized things to do, and i wonder what why and whom might hear me, believe me and sieve this rap? and conscieve of me when i'm back around and underground and maybe written in hebrew on your sleeve . around and about the river management schemes because enviromental science is the place NOW > it might seem to get close to her, or will i just be toasting here > cutting down bush and rogue trees and weeds > draining lakes and digging new shapes into rivers. River stour got re: shaped by industry and masonry business cuz they gotta have their business with nature and money and business and nature and money and 76. One world writing in the style of and pattern thrown to winds of change Ching first thought best and to trumpit Ripple she i dedicate my cast of past thoughts to him > but atleast atlas is resher than your tarot of the tribal encyclopedia melopoeia > so bite me or join me, step into the moment > i dare you! stare down yourself and the Illuminknighty [hitched up] with their magical calendrical dribble voodoo science fiction garter spook panties > no ordinary cop would be here so true and guess what .....Miss Sutra is right here with me > incarnate black afro goddess with Barney and Saul and all the charatcers from history mystory yourstory Bob's story and more birds sit unmoving on the telegraph pole across the street. now squeak squrak tweet like rockets or arrows > bird speak > bubble robin hawking swallow chatter high pitched warble and telephone ring ring, DNA wires in social conditions all but vanished, i'm hungry, so hungry...i'm famished, out here on a wing and prayer, living on fresh air and borrowed lungs stolen books and swindled computer, false prophet and banned care giver to RAW, these freestylz ill be the death of me if i open my gob, open my mouth ceremoney and talk bruce Gypsy dirty sometimes it feels like that but not today. Nine hundred and ninty nine years in Ireland i lay > Awake. Dreaming awake of the woidllness, the muddle way, the miggle piggly chapter from the critickle pathway leading to a gingerbread and Pound cake house. Where mice and men live like rats with margret Thatcher roofs, rayguns shot me in my childhood, Born in 1976 a full 200 years after the great brotherhood started operation desert storm. And the bundle weed blows on the prayer RE: and i hear a call in the distance, a song, a twelve tone scale full yrealized and self actualized > a connection to the sky goddess with words and poetry > the Native American Indian Totem of Peace had returned to my mind, inside my meditation dome this is what i sparkle and spit up the walls and mandala patterens overpower my voice. i bow to Tao here and Zen again agen. bow to Mind, bow to body, bow to speech Ohm. no place lyk
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