Author: flyagaric23

S is for Spore: Of the words (Early freestyle)

Hero’s and Mad Villains

Flystyle point of view. Knu. revolutionary. Everychanging. the I Ching sings us into the new millenium from the old one millenium. Piccaso, Dali, George Orwell and Robert Anton Wilson define our times. For me. Times turn tables over and around, and mines a short story. fly agaric the long and short of it is a litmus test for gyllibillyg tea. How can i begin to write my story my poem without flowin. How can it be a race if the times up, how can there be any rules if they are not updated by I Ching. With non-action no-mind and no war we can all score goals. Freestyle points of view might sharpen you. Or stew you and screw you around a shaft thread needle eye and round the loop again, loopy is true on many different levels of magnifiction, but also true on many chronillogical magnifictionx, where time gets twisted and tales get lifted blown sky high and the class get a whiff of what the horse just did and yet i guess if shit were roses we could get away with such a dark trick, such an evil example of casting spells, casting words at the reader whoever they are and whomever they are becoming > but, no doubt just behind YOU and them > everyone is coming! like a new faucet got turned on, like the bandwidth just square rooted Google-bit or like a Tinderloo curry powerspray barkin at the toilet! Here runs everyone, skipping and holding hands, the children at first and then everyone joins in > skipping again happy and on a great adventure like the ones they used to flow on as a kid a likkle nipper i remember playing superman and dressing up in my cape, and running and saving things like my tonka truck the once about to topple off a shelf,

my Evil kenevil bike about to get crumpled by a kitten mitten > Eye remember saving an entire city of ants > million of them under attack by my dads hot water, and i managed to save a few……even though i knew – while they were running with carefully square-cut pieces of leaf material in their gobs – their home was obliterated > I remember when i woza ladd > when i was Batman aged five. I stopped a crime gang trying to get at my dinosaur cookies in a stolen Police car belonging to Ko Jack and then, at once i remember racing my tinka cars around the living room carpet and along the complex roads and pathways created by our furniture, the TV, waste basket and various plantpots – in synchrony with “The Italian Job” – which was playing on the TV. i remember the leyland mini’s racing through the water with the gold and the Great Train Robbery and all villains who were sometimes Hero’s too or, at least, they interchanged often enough so that you didn’t get to spooked or carried away with one side or tuther. The Hero or the Villain were differentiated because they appeared on Television, and they continued to change, some change each episode, some change each week, some would take on new characteristics each month or season and change. Characters would give birth to whole new shows and spin offs or change off’s and model toys which i could buy at the shop down town, or ask mummy to get for me. Change was a constant in my favourite characters from my youth, that’s why i now love the I Ching……its better than X Box! sez”Fly agaric 23″ The Hero and the Villain kept changing and morphing like a secret agent, or maybe it was that a secret agent was changing the TV programming behind the scenes or was it the lsd this time? in this case? am i in Gotham City. X-avier? Livia? huh, and then they the spook programers would start to make real films, reel ones like the proper ones mum and dad watch, the ones about the real world you know the ones… and about what the really real people do, where Harrison Ford, Neo, The Godfarther and Hannibal Lectur are all real people you already knew that didn’t ya. know. you did? n’t?

I know this rap because i have already met some, dreaming, beaten them and eaten them again and again, i did this when i was just five years old. Now looking back and cooking up retrospect into a brand knu retro brew i drink and see visions of my superself stew > realized as a child > magnificent wonder child brilliant and outgoing goal oriented and with a name to come > and so… i want to rekindle it, i want to kill the bad guys, save the girl and save the truth and save the whole world by being brave, following my heart and instinct, being a man and standing up for what i think is right, just, best for everyone, based upon scientific research and good 21st century thinking but > peacefully and without violence > unless it is a poetic violence of course in which case its just another taboo subject to assassinate! and the beat goes on > and i write from the hilt, post and i tilt the whole world 23 n’alf degrees because see these words that i write they are my almighty effort to roll the dice of Einstein and great things are within them if you just got time to pick em out, in these times i doubt more than 20 people would read this far into a blog, and then get stuck thinking about who and how and the whots and the wheres and the ? cares and who dares spare a moment never mind spare a dollar to look into their OWN ignorance and sit back and then holla > Fly Agaric 23!

its you it’s you [echos] after all this time now i see and now i do know what you were saying about the new language, ergo ego the reality sandwitch the illuminatea and the blue beings of light from sirius star system sirius i’m serious not delirious they follow us > they are CNN they are NBC and BBC they are after me > They are after the truth the scoop the next thing, the next beat the next song with which to scribble out the meaning and replace it with double speak, thats double speak! Dubble speak > like the speak from the brilliant Novel 1984 by George Orwell and whats more creepy is this newspeaky easy is everywozznt throughout the mediocre peach blossom rose shit > like a VIRUS it creeps down the aya who aska? wires in your own fucking house right now it’s growing snakes slide not ladders up ascension glide but falling down into your money seed bank screen behind your eyelids, TV > forget about it its all behind your eyelids, radio whatever its all behind your eyelids > go see the Buddha. and its not getting anybetter but please don’t sweater i’m here to help, slave whoops freud slip i mean save >

Renewl fool now slither fly drool if i’m wrong but i’m not wrong i’m write hear to bring news of a new calendar called YOU, pick up your talk tapes unfasten your tongue twisters > the whole worlds on my shoulders it seems, and i breath fire and mold boulders with unfastened lightening one-bolt rhymes, two times three times me got so much vine my tapes is grapes > and i rub one out for the treble and two for the bass come on three and four all of em, so i see a virus a dirty horrible peaceful mixed bag of mixed signals, like the Hero and the Villain spillin down the vine of your soul, your families soul, the soul of your own children and their children’s children, the Vine is out of control. Stop! the serpent of CNNBBCNBC from cummin any closer to my kids, behind my kidlidz > help me i have the snake in my gaze i have the cathode ray school of secret agents on my fishing hook and it feels like theses conga eels or something else…line just snapped. yes. The Villains are not only in government but Holywood, my I-Pod and almost everywhere i look since reading Basho. I sprang from nothing for no reason without space, without time even for you never mind me, without temperature just empty nothing, just voidness, the pit of bottomless nothingness, no atoms, not even electrons are here just no reason and some spaceless featureless anti stuff, but we will call it > the big bang yeah pull the other one, my names fly agaric and i’m a maverick. Threw a brick through the whitehouse window with a message for the president it said “lie down on the floor and be quiet” – a legendary poem; a joke and poke at violence the world inflicts on innocent terrorists Dali.

Maybe if we all become surrealists NOW then we can crush the evil of good and get the show over with and start this new age i keep hearing about in my dreams and catching a little bit each time i awake, its about a future where scholar mystics have developed a new language based upon 21st century scientific research and correlations between comprehensive honest findings rather than the usual government faith based paranoid deception dogma and corrupted ideology. Why are we standing for it? I cannot any longer – i threw my TV out the window and took up the ancient art of I Ching. Eye recommend it, especially when compiling ideas for blog entry topics and further ideologies. imagine the kungfusion when the President finds himself reading the I Ching and adopting it for his people, do we have enlightened people or, do we have psychopaths with a new book? a new idea to trample upon? another target to wipe out? another group of revolutionary thinkers to smash and discredit while they sell debits like its creditz tsa toppsy turvy whorld out there > and its based upon how many young children they can kill in Bagdad or Kabul or Vietnam or the next place on their list. Them being the worldwide corporate armaments, pharmaments and language virus pushers and Empirical maniacs > if you search for peace, enlightenment, understanding, gratitude, forgiveness, kindness, caring, luverlyness, openness, sharing, togetherness, friendliness, compassionateness, carefulness, humbleness, gratefulness, nessynestness > what you project you reflect and subject to the object of your precept. ion your concept to your pants constructing, a very large conducting wave called “life” timewave or the octave of energy has a very very wild freekquency and fluctuating wave length. From small to large would be one way of putting it > faster and slower > fatter/thinner > more or less Eye do obviously but i’m asking the teacher here “hey, wheres my public omnigraph that goes from light into matter? huh? or the one that goes from ultraviolet to glass? ”

huh, is it because the elemental categories contained within the pitiful science that terribly holds these I Chingwaves or these moment to moment “jumping NOW’s” ? Who or WHAT is gonna prove anything other than what the I Ching already tells us every conscious moment? i mean….if you want to get into books and rhetoric or any of that silly kind of stuff. Painters, musicians and poets [artists so called] have known this for years and now its time for YOU to join US. The audience must climb down off their kitchen breakfast stool, get out of YOUR living room and off that couche. Change the world Damn it. With processing and with knuw questions, revolution in the minds of the people > it must be a massive uprising of conscious average-everyday people, full of love and joy and community – to birth this new age this new world. I am guessing you will need these prose tools [in progress], these maybelogic tools to start your communities and please > don’t be afraid of the China person. Don’t be afraid of the brown man or the green man/women. Greet them kindly. Please Invite them to join the peaceful gathering of tribes or, be slay’d by the waring bullies and megalomaniacs trying to literally take over the world outside their own little eyelidz – imbeciles. The unlikelyhood of there being a singularity is a rare thing, even in nature – featureless, spaceless, less and less into the anti, the no-thing.

But i rhyme on like a madman in a burning tower. My science not creditable but DNA see behind your eyelidz. DNA requires singing dancing and the tale of the tribe, but it was stopped by the horse people, when we left the cows and their dung trail and found horse we found trade, but this rhyme moves the horse to other end of cart and then turns it back into a cow. Mu Mu Big Bangers splatter all wet imagination = steady state universe of June 16th 1953 we are moving towards singularity and there is a transdimensional object at the end of history like Mckenna said, and it’s casting an enormous shadow, pull us into human history wack story > it has turned out for me rather violent and unfair i mean look at the news man…… i’m very dissapointed at the Big playas playing an unfair game > stole all the best cards, left us with nothing but words, so here we go, eat this yellow snow yo; megacomplex 21st century sense factory, like a fake dollar manufactree i’m setting up for transformations like nothing ever happened or seen or whitnessed before. seen > my mother > biology she’s in control of this…weather machines ha, don’t take the piss out of my mum like that, not a machine – a lye; a false reason; a reckless test of a weapon.

A weapon that becasue of its definition just blew up your chance to join and hold hands as we sing a new planet into being, individual parts we all play, we all sing at different times but together mega vegetable mind resurrection, plant shamanism has returned. Lost until now victim of degredation, media mangling theological entanglement and priest crafty motherfuckers. Ergo > Ego is like a cancerous growth, like plaque, like colesterol and it need regular dissolving, in my maybelogic opinion. Unless regular boundary dissolving is practiced every new moon or so, if a trip into the brazen Hendrix dreamsilver bus sticky readybreakfast glow and into the boundless intentionality, the buzzbomb of nature and cult of intoxication and wild sex orgy, wild like Courtney Love. Every full moon fucking and drugfeast in the streets, all getting dunged up on shroomz. Everybody havin a cow moon, a cow man. everybody becomes their very own captain cave man. Dissoving their already tiny egos since they tripped just 2 weeks ago into an empowered communit called eastwestside Eden “heart of mother land” desertifiction conference in Africa the cats the cradle of planetary diversification grass lands dried up and mushroom fests died off until now, today here i preserve you, in a bog a blog like mead, a blog of preservation rhymeazone solution, preserve a shroom for humanity! domestication of horse instead of keep following the cow and NOW look what you did with that Horse shit, i’m talkin Toad shit or cow shit depends how you wanna look at it. Cow dung shroom to Horse shit beer to the wheel to agriculture to plunder and the

NEW WORLD ORDER typical male dominace pillage of natural resources, subjugation of women and denial of connection to goddess “Dr. GOEBBLES NAMED REICHS CHANCELLOR Surprise solution to leadership problem by Partei Committee. radio speech viewed decisive. Berlin crowds cheer. statement expected. Goring may be named Police Chief over Heydrich.” [break] “You know what he’s done, don’t you? He’s taken the best about Nazism, the socialist part, the Todt Organization part and the economic advances we got through speer, and who’s he giving the credit to? The New Deal. And he’s left out the bad part, the SS part, the racial extermination and segregation. it’s a Utopia.” – The Man in the High Castle by Philip. K. Dick.

Steven James Pratt

October 7, 2005
A is for Awake: FW title plays

Acrillic Figa
The following is a fresh poem i just spat out, which is fourteen anagrams of Finnegans wake. After that are quotes i collected and posted at maybelogic academy six months ago titled “3000 years of psychedelic poetry, Finnegans wake and the Cantos” Read them! And read them again…..

Finnegan wakes, awake eng finns,
finnegan askew, a fake news ginn,

Weaken gas finn, weakening fans
Nasa knife gwen, Anna fiske gwen

Fake anne wings, fake anna sewing
Ages waken finn, Sage waken Finn

Wake fang nines, fakes wang nine,
Insane fag knew: sneak fang wine,

Wage sneak finn, fang nina weeks
waking ann fees, wahe snake finn,

Fawn ask engine, fan wan seeking,
a swan gene fink, fawn sank genie

Gas ann week fin, fan as gene wink,
Gnaw as knee fin, nag as week finn

flynagains awake.

“This is bureaucracy, ” said dionysus, and he smashed his wine jug in anger; beside him, his lynx glared balefully. – Book four, the eighth trip, or Hod. (Telemachus sneezed) The Illuminatus Trillogy. “Illy Trilly.

“The resurrection and the life. Once you are dead you are dead. That last day idea. Knocking them all up out of their graves. Come forth. Lazarus! And he came fifth and lost the job. get up! Last day! – James Joyce, Ulysses, Page 87

“Section C: Re:volutions and Evolutions.
One of the greatest difficulties facing the world today is the passing from one historical era to another. – Count Alfred Korzybski, Science and Sanity, Page XXXVI

“In Tibetan the Kalachakra puja is called dam-jho which is particularly important during times of great difficulties – of wars and natural disaster’s. The Kalachakra is the mandala of the four door’s or Qing – Ghou.

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Steven James Pratt

October 5, 2005
E is for Ear: cumz evez rear booty

unedited freestyle mind spill revolution….

http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fflyagaric23%2Fshannanigums-wave-book-1-chapter-1-d& Shannanigums Wave Book 1 Chapter 1 d by flyagaric23

if you missed it i come again. babies and gentlewomen, butterflies, all the “Unrepresented natural whorl’d” to come > In birth, birthing NOW wording, yes. All this is coming, everybody is coming. it’s called the revolution and I Acrillic, Agaric, that’s fly agaric will be an avatar for something like it, but not “It” cuz it is YOU, when you actualize the new world, the new age, toss your calendar in the bin. it’s sinn, i am Pagan. here me…i say i am neo pagan, that means i am with the earth, she, here soils, tyo rukh/phul ke ho? [what tree/flower is that, in nepali] Acrillic Rowan Atkent Red Blackthorn Brazen Nut! nuts and friut, the most common mushroom throughout all fairy land, and not a soul seems to “show that they know it” some BIG secret? An agent of evolution contained within a seed planted in this Revolution. me Fly acrillic spinning a whole new calendar/seal language from my fungers in a freestyle lingo to show my sincerity and care for hilaritea, and justice and crying out for peace LOUD. Poetry, i am the poet, the return if you push me and so i am the second coming, right out of the tomb, sleeping for over 12’000 years my spirit arise like your eye’s alight the skies ablaze woid is born, and again. I’m not afraid to use my poetic heritage to spill facts on chumps about “Trees” “plants” “animals” and their role in ‘Our” history, they are everything and us, but now we sit on the verge of destruction, like two suicidal lovers [maybe Micky and Mallory] maybe but on the edge, and then….Woid is born…..and it’s me who brings it tyas-ko phul khah nu hun cha? [Can you eat the fruit?] Like the local drug enforcement were at the first day of creation, no don’t eat the source, oh no, naughty devil, evil women, ate the APL og no, what now? erm, make war on anybody who thinks that god is in nature….”God is in me” I am King, bring me my supper now…etc etc…..get it? No? well err, the Trees the great tree of Mugna contains in itself virtues ofapple, hazel and Oak. No joke i grow around oaky doak steel works didn’t eye, go ask Alice! Hazel is the Poets tree. really that’s not just a clever rhyme, it’s true….i’m really cryin here….tryin not to tear up too much but I’m here, fly agaric and bwoy have i got news…..I am the stag of severn times, over the flooded world, borne of wind, i descend in tears like dew, true…look at me over there i lye in glittering tinsel towns, and yet mycelium roots hidden under hills Clent, Malvern, hereford, Warster. War me….War me lyk…..I fly aloft like a griffon to my nest on the cliff, i BLOOM amunguss the most spectacular flowers, i am both the Oak and the lightning that strikes electric eeled and reeled lightning bolt one legged, shade foot, mycopoet, mushroom defender of HER, nature, come with your bulldozers and sleep at the controls of a 10 tonne truck [civilization] out of control, i’m pushing on the deadmans handle, stop this train…..i wanna get off…..i’m a poet, swimmer, drummer drowning in 21st Century metaphysicks, too bright for my own power flower source, to in love with Fish to sound sane, too: over enthralled by certain Bark’s that i’m laybulled “barking” i’m over over come by Fragrance of “Dolmens of Ireland” overcome by facts about psychotropic roots, to everything, the whole mess, mopped up with mushrooms, you kiddin, itwood be crazy….[wipes eyes] folks running around speaking gobbulday guck, jabberwocky, spellin all bazzerkatronic, never heard of beatifick innovation: whatch you cat stare into space momentarily between chewing cat nip. THERE, GOD of cats, behold a pale horse. Behold the Alphabet and the Goddess, a poet gone mad in a prophets world, poets lay praying like Buddhas, Buddy saturdevas, banshees, Goddess yes sitting still. Like a Tree. Just like a tree has stood for six million years six billion stares from different creatures just strivin for light, change, language, a cat……does it not strive for language….and I teach the councillors their wisdom, i inspire the poets, I do….I rove the hills with just two books like a raving roving bear, grizzly i roar like Winter sea in blackpool, and i fly agaric like finn, like Horus, and like jesus, come again, again like the receding wave. Who but fly agaric to unfold the secrets of the unhewn dolmen? 2062
B.S [Bikram Sambat] Clay water wool and blood, wood lime and flax-thread full DNA twisting Yosh yoshi, full twist: The Nine of Nimrods Tower. [babel Loth Foraind Saliath Nabgadon, Hiruad. Dabhid, Talamon, cae, Kaliap, Murriath, Gotli, Gomers, Stru, Ruben, Achab, Oise, urith, essu, Iachim, Ethrocius, uimelicus, iudonius, Affrim, Ordines. ogham’s friends > These are not the Runes witch are German language type stones, this is food of the gods, a world of Trees and plants, nature herslef, herbalism and it’s reconnetion to Poetry, authority. How many months are their in YOUR year? There are thirteen i say i say isay thirteen, a new octave, phase shifting post kwantum jump, into hypereality, 28 lunar mushrooms, the stems and branches of trees which surely, must have…..must have…born ideas at the least in man? the wind of river, rise of sun..yes..The flower petal growth patterns, forms and functions, trees and species and tales and berries and altered hyperreal real trips man, you know like trips and like wow this is an amazing tree, better Hush hush this one, called it jesus or fly agaric or something, you will find in English there IS no WORD for fly agaric, this is latin i speak fly agaric [fly killer] which is a lye, i just put you too sleep, but now i want everybody to wake up, finnegan askew it you and you, everybody…your all equal, all got brains and hands and limbs to build and march and make peace and bring love and all that malarchy, but how you gonna present this to the monarchy…erm….excuse me miss, we gotta change your calendar, your language and your drug laws, excuse me…my names fly agaric, i’m the worlds greatest living poet, i know it and show it when i spin it, into your royaltea, your oily spoiltness. Gosh washed down with dry blackthorns, a sip of river stour, and a then a mouth full of fevers, enough to kill a mon, chlorine in the water, taxes, embezzlement in muzzled nuke deals wanna make you puke, same old same old rich scotch stinkin, red faced bizzness men, dinasaurs, dying of greed, on their way OUT….the rivers are getting cleaned up like Charles bronson became Julia Butterfly and it was genesis wish, Justice through life affirming actions, growth to bring change, real potting and creating of space for plants, but…i’m not really talkin my talk tapes to you peeps, my kind loving intelligent audience, i am squarking at the big Birds, the main playas, who will not read this poem because it’ already going going gone way over their heads, heads of state think my poetree is anything but first rake. Some say thou art john the baptist, and some Elias, and some, one of the ancient prophets risen from the dead….pick up your pens my brothers and sisters rebirth your ancestor spirit with ink, kick up a blinding stink, tinker away at your arts until you can generate enough power as maybe 72 big farts and just blow government out your ass, take in a big deep breath through the valleys, from HER, Alivia the real real world, far from cameras, roads and bars, breath in through the lost valleys, through the unnamed lakes, 60’000 of them, and then blow government and dogmatic reality pundits out your behind, bzzzzurp. And Poetry is born, telemachus sneezed and gave birth, come again out the tomb, the poets womb stone, the head zone, where you is yourself, don’t let nobody tell you nuthing but yourself, but see ignorance from that view, but Ignarance is impossible with TV, not Cause TV is bad, but because there are so many channels now you watch what YOU like, what you know, what you ego feels comfortable with. Wake up from history people it’s a nightmare brought to a Screen near you, it’s eating you and me, but i’m fly agaric come to tell you it’s trying to eat me, but i just swallowed it whole, language swallowed itself and gave birth to a Muscarinic anatagonist: knu part chemical, part poetic equation which saves lives. By doing this in a different language, i translate for my RNA, and for you…Phig trees are awake or was i planting seeds that pissed em off so much? is it just beacause i challenge their god, their gods, i chew em up and spit out their husks, i say “So strike me down you son’s of bitches” each day and still i watch the birds fly high at sundawn, the newspapers are still delivered and the ocean still breathes a deep sigh of relief, the blues spill for ever and ever, god in all things, in everything and so not in a single Sigil, temple, word or spell. Hell does hot scare me, but pictures of Young soldiers of god getting blown to smitherines in iraq does. Who else? but me to bring the age of the moon, a new age of new calendars and merrygoround amusements, who can change the hills, mountains or Bough’s as i can? who? where? Ku? I am the womb of everywomen, i really mean my POEM IZ…queen of every hive, shield to every, innocent, lost, hungry, diss own’d chiles head, i am now a super cunning poet who invokes prophesea, i invoke Timewaves for seafarers, wake surfers i sing praises, celebration, my voice, i am…..Woid birthing….happyness and i am salmon in a river or a pool, eaten a gold ring, Oh lord my belly….i am still the Lions roaring of a winters sea, and on i go….into the darkness, emerging as a ray of sun with a new plum plucked frsh as daisy froma plum tree, seed imbedded inside no need for manufacture, it’s DNA abundant like oxygen, like water, but not for free. I am a god of druid fluid dynamical systems, stems and branches exstend around my museum or forest show room, i am a skilled artist, i am also twenty five battalions, i am an OX in strength, my powms inflated to the size of the globe, i’m swallowing all boundaries and limits, Woid is born onto the edge of an Abyss, how long till world war three, and will it be televised or will it be before our very eyes? I am the world and it’s over if you want it, i want it, i take the weight of a revolution in the minds of everybody onto my shoulders, a poet from the future, on an American adventure, here to save the universe and kill the baddies, with nothing but rhyme and love for others, demonstrated by confidence in my mouth, to hand, to eye to knob coordination, and compassion to hold back 5000 tanks and unlimited flanks of troopers, running with live ammunition in 6005, a crusade hidden behind a panic and a regular public disturbance, the media spin Dr. Pundits

http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fflyagaric23%2Fshannanigums-wave-book-1-chapter-1-b& Shannanigums Wave Book 1 chapter 1 b by flyagaric23

killing meaning and poetry every day, and each day i get stronger, my raps get better and longer and stronger again, and i brake the chains holding me in this electric chair and wammo out out, awake and it’s……NEO….standing there, a dream he sez don’t scream he sez, everything you know is wrong, reality is a story fed to you by the powers that be, but it’s too late for me, and Holywood to wake you up, a movie Huh, is this a joke, Christ still in pain and suffering while war profiteers still profiting, how fitting Christs warriors and world wars, holy books, truth, ownership and laws, Dogma, Eugenics magik and more Bombs, and i am gonna bring it all to a stop Now with these whispering drums, these whispering poems of peace, to excorcise all demons, prophets, taboos and so called new papers, so called Pope’s leaders, official representatives, where are you? hello…hello….is anybody there? this is 2005 right? Earth? huh, i here to early, y’all just gonna sit and give up on birthing a nation, birthing a new age, a new people, new and beautiful like lovers rolling amongst flowers, these flowers are ours, and all things go back to her, mother matrix momma earth. Don’t doubt it, i know we all have our own woids for it, and please forgive my own waxing poetic on it, but timewave calendar seal discs spun like records by the priest who brings in the new year sound like a valid shamanic practice in 6005, the DJ, spinner of the discs, sacred scrolls wound upon vinyl, grooves carry feelings and moods reflecting seasons and gods, MC’s bring in the revolution, It’s happening everywhere, it’s just the airwaves are jammer spammed with automatic machine DJ’s playlists so empty of music it’s called clear channel because no real “Musiq” actually comes through it’s channels of communication. Real music is meaningful, packed with revolution and passion, full of knu languages independence, a maverick approach, from the street, the underdog, the unheard and nameless, the annonymous massive, we run music like the way we run poetry, and this is for all of you babies and gentlewomen, all of you who sit and wish and wonder and ponder the bullymen, the rough and violent ways of a dominator culture, on the verge of a new Partnership civilization, where official contracts between governments and it’s suspects, i mean subjects, replaces wars and rogue macho orgies of Cock technology, shooting it all off into space, shooting it around a tube and smashing sperm into other sperm to look at the little bits of sperm interact and them call em names and write a story, a fairy tale about em which is unquestionable and yet….meanwhile the other 99.9 percent of humanity half starves to death, carn’t catch a breathe in the social chaos, the rules and minimum wages, weed smokers pot in cages, lovers and poets forced into the wheels of corporate industree, if your not with us your a terrorist now, see, i seen this a little while back and so i filled by back sack with books upon how to slay the beast, the fake priest calling itself “God” and i learn’t how to disturb it, for my own Evil and megalobibliomaniac wayz. These raps turning darker as the truth gets brighter and nearer to me, who switched the lights on! like dylan sez, and i dream on the couch don’t slouch, love grouch some cats know this, they drop illness like Shaman, get it off their chest drummin strummin paints and breakdancinsing gekko Ginseng it say it clear, seal calendar getting born this smorn, woke up with the horn, woke up and John Zorn was sounding like my poem, complex cycles of sun/moon stem and branch seed banking, the Trees the trees, please here me, the Treestyle raps will bring the revolution, the words will spin webs with poetic plebbs, amayba logic, maybelogic magik and it might be tragic if the wrong officer reads my raps and takes my talk tapes down too deep, wants to blow me into next week, with all this time travel, this true gritt, gravel Acrillic [down on his knees praying to the goddess] Truth, wisdom, peace, kindness compassion who can ask WHY. Its self reflective, obvious on the tip of your tongue, YOU cannot be wrong, but when a group get together and want to inflict terror errors emerge, and were on the verge of world war three it seems, but we all still enjoying our Ice creams, i bring trees: [Hazel, Oakholly, Ashthorn, WhiteRowan, Birch Ivy, ElderWillow, Alderthorn, Vinepalm and mistletoe] ode to Rob Graves and forgot one or two corpses, but the Truth is SHE earth > gaia, our mother, mutter > she IZ all around us, born unto us > in language watch your street names grow veins and start bursting with brazen rayzens, bursting with hazed purple mittens, her hands grabbing for us, asking us to help her, speak woid is born, birth to nature in gesture, the language and my sandwidget iteract with Mayonnaise, i tryin aiy eye? at least i’m droppin live. It’s 05 so where you at? who’s live for the life force, no money no family connections, no government backers, crazy cracker lawyers, nothing…just me and my pen…..my ship set sail, off my lip > mail comes sweet APL agaric crimson in hue, Which grows concealed in Forest Celyddon, we are all Don’s brothers, sisters you are princess, and that don’t mean you can wear a crown, or a fancy gow’n, although crown is nice…yes…..we can use this, a crown of blackthorns from my school, Quarry Bankrupt, Industry found Electricity and left me for coal dust, and the thickets still grow through the smog, through the social fog and pollution and wars….the trees, the Ents, they walk and weave and grow like Gaia’s fingertips, creeping up and into our visionfieldof > the roebuck$ in the thicket. And poets sit cross legged, calm. waiting for Spring already, singing ancient songs of LOVE. Attraction, bringing planets here through rhymes and reasons to help us, a call to our spore core family, we are interesting so….come save us….we all don’t want to enforce WEestern Logic, Christian Science, measurment, religion and war and Hummers on you. really i speak a truth you must hear me Clearly, more clearer now i move nearer, a toaster comes closer, to dose ya, read and bleed like jesus, don’t get croix keep your legs crossed, i don’t critic ART or culture or motion, just the ocean of things which “Sleep” brings, i sing my songs and dance around, Look…

http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fflyagaric23%2Fno-parking-garaj-fly-high-sierra& NO PARKING GARAJ FLY HIGH SIERRA by flyagaric23

to me….to me…..and search for a better world, a better way, a love world where we can all speak freely, groovy, yeah and be merry, use our peaceful technology to communicate, have fun and be happy, so….why am i not happy? because i am changing the nappy of “George Bush and Tonee Blah” Blah, i feel “better and fitter” than these people. i’m not disrespecting them, they are all equally coming Buddhas, but their ideas are crappy, they have no good rhymes. They don’t know how to hang out without their friends, family and security. Pussies i would call them, and so i continue i my mission to bring a brush to each Kid, paint and canvas speakers fresh rhymes and free food, everywhere. Stop the war. God iz Dead. Please read Kneeche he knows what i meaN, my dog is dead and i’m unddergroud. Who would deny that Nature should be our sovereign? Huh? How can a river, an ocean, another living creature be anything but “Her” She mother earths DNA code, Gods, eyes, legs, all Coded like this text like my uncle jams Jones, i’m kiddin but not stoppin till i got hip hoppin flip floppin over the gates and into the vaults, language and culture have come. The time is come. We stand on the doorsteps of power, its the hour of change, Revolution is coming and its feeding back until it reaches a new phase shift and SHE is wise, fickle, ninefold muse, primordial ooze Omnibroadcast news, DNA sono Bio Luminessence. And this might be called spammin when i’m just jammin out the only way i know how, no time to edit, no way, in the flow, now YOU know……..i just make this stuff up, and then drop it with a passion to make groves in spiral gyra donut star systems, spinning sugar sweet fly sucker, awakening, resurrected and to be perfected, here cumz Eves Rearbooty

Steven James Pratt

October 4, 2005
JC is for Jesuspect Christereogram: of freestyle writing

Acrillic Figa
Jesuspect Christereogram of freestyle
Acrillic Figaand thats not freestyle, makes me smile and all the time ticks tocking off the shelves, kids without food in their mouths and still gossip persists and opportunities for ___style responses are missed. Talk is cheap and my rhymes priceless. if you know me then show me your subtle moods and leave those who want to, to stay prudes. ___style sat day, i’m sittin down that’s right, and i ain’t gonna and i dunt wanna come here just to fight, or talk shit about knowing it, rather walk it by showing it. Small talk and short sentences, fake Haiku’s and fake white blues. Take offence with your ego script that i just flipped right in front of yer face, but i didn’t wanna do it like that i don’t mean YOU or YOU i mean everybody > every hue held in a zoo, every theif who stole Hues from Saul williams news and wants to prance and dance with the dead while half in, half out of bed. It’s sed, word is born day to day, and i’m speaking in tongues wanna play a game? and don’t need encouragment to make further indents into the philosophy of presidents. Now the talk about the woods, the butterflies loving sweetness – don’t kwight get THROUGH to these dumb devils that surround us. And as the Dali Lama sits and in some sense quits the raps for walkin [or sittin] it’s the future he spouts from his posture, and it’s that very sittin that i equate with talk of birds, blazing zing tin flash marmalade sunsets, metaphors about nature which i could keep posting and boasting about, and how humble and ZEN again i am, how peace and love will save the world. Well Bush sez that too, so…..wot cha gunna do, when the Storm troopers start roundin up suckers who never spoke super fluid dynamical systems, war game startegy, rolling armies of poets and flowits, armed with explosive surprises and sentences powerful enough to turn barbedwire into candy floss, tanks into turntables, snakes into microphone cables and lead crazy horses back to their safe stables. so next time your in staples shout out your poem, get the whole world goin with your flowin. But quit the small talk, gossip ego flexin, tossin yer fanny all up in a humble knights scene, like it was feminism not Nazism that becomes the death of innocent men, and so women and children. this ain’t a joke no more. It….just ain’t funny anymore……Children dyin cuz the language ain’t providing the sustainable nutrition of Imagination for a nation. And talk is cheap but my rhymes pricesless, wot you gonna do create a new name and come back twice as faceless. it’s the third world baby and i’m now talkin to YOU, yes YOU you hear me, tell me what you gonna do, to help the kids dyin in iraq and in the Ghettos and back streets cuz the virus of language is loose and lassooed by the Pirates that sold you barbie and Micky mouse models and metaphors for control, and that why if you don’t wanna know then dont follow me, don’t swallow me down into the hole, cuz Alice Liddle plays the fiddle and Alice Coltrane plays the harp, and this hole i’m going down, well really it’s perty dark, but i hope to bring light with my rhymes and reasons, and clever avoidancing of rhymin too much with cliche seasons…. cuz i don’t bite, i chew and drink bitter, i don’t hike, but wage i’m much fitter so unfasten your talk tapes and wright it like you mean it, don’t act like a silly groupie slave bitch and be so gullibull. Full of shit, a foolish copydog, and those who think they know me will get wave after wave of flow me until their head rolls off, cuz i’m a proff of the woid, that’s like Void = nothing. I know nothing, word is Woid to write up the wrong it, get a note pad and sling it over your back into a bag and walk around your mind remembering to tag > all the things you might find. When i freestyle i leave residue and it’s like the steam from my lizard poo, stinky but good for you, to grow on, so go on and wright a new rap, but don’t get throwin down that wack shit, don’t regurgitate the same crap that you might read or hear about > that’s just more bullshit from someothers deadhead like Chinese whispers i say [go and read Kungfewsis, The dharma or the ved] as, and don’t believe the hype from the new corporate invaders, the new manifest bushwar darth vaders, come to be our persuaders, and force us too way’d through swumps in our nice knu pumps, or wear a face mask when i’m swollen with the mumps. if you wanna know me then flow me. if not then blow me. I’ll see you on the flipside, the B Side the Instrumental, cuz it’s the whole universe i come to save through my temple called the mental. damned straight, and let me add that boys who call emselves bad boys remind me of mothers “shouting to them down in the basement….your dinners ready, hope your not playing with yourself again you bad boy”
It’s right > most battle raps are just dung flung shit flingin. No enlightenment, no real encouragement to topple the government with insight and well being, with survival requiring a riffle rather than a copy of Finnegans Wake or the Cantos by Pound. If language is the name of the game, and i’ll put my head on the line for that claim, then we gotta INVENT it and cement it to the walls of the new up and coming revolution, a solution made from spraypaint, vinyl, lyknow and Micrphone ceremonial amusements. Yet, down in the basement it’s sickofrantic “groupy-ism” repeating a rapper on the Bush pay rolls raps, about how their Hummer reflects their “Patriotic raps” or violent tendencies, which may well be a reality in the ghetto > i don’t doubt it i have seen it [bronx, brooklyn, 9th ward, hunters point, st. Pauls….. but the revolution i imagine [in my own tiny mind] is about a knu language, assimilating nature, communication and direct transmission of gods and nothing less. That’s why Saul williams is a bridge built, as deep as Loch Ness. Listen to the content, listen to the topics, it’s not violence it’s violets, not the city but the jungle, or a nice amalgamation of a jumble of poetic motiffs, since ancient times – like lost corral reefs he brings up the jewels and thats the revolution fools. Super bionic natural world wide raps, the power of HER in the air, the care free throwing of freestlye mowings of the lawns of inner city garden places, inner persepctive to bring knowledge of self a feel for the ego and a new light of nature to quilt that ego, with a sticky moss or a fungus an organic blanket, a vocal gloss, like Walt Whitman not Walt Disney, it’s the leaves not snow whites frilly sleeves. So when rappers have rapped themselves up in a ball and the new world order has scooped up them all with equal violence, equal suffering, equal paranoia and equally, equall truth….look around yourself what do you see? Buddhas meditating on the steps of city hall? conscious rappers up on MTV showing us all, how it’s done? who knows, but the the future flow’s will be about flowers, cuz when the new world dawnes it’s gonna be ours for the takin, not fakin, for the mind/nature interface bakin is takin place right now, this is a shout in the street. Woid is born, lets all move our feet, through down a battle raps and instead treat ourselves to friendship raps, construct raps, poems about bottle caps, divine curves on the inside of a loved ones thigh, a glint or glisten in someones eye, language allows for such attension to detail that it seems that we could write it and just send it by airmail to another nation or city and still have it come out pritty when it’s read. Why not right a l;ove letter to a stranger instead, poetic terrorism means random acts of love and kindness, you carn’t get more ironic than that cuz now the evil violent terrorist is back. On TV wearing a turban and looks nearly black or brown, who’s next the Chinese, world war three fought on MTV against China, just cuz their leaders are demented as our we think we KNOW all of China, all 3 Billion or so of them, strangers in a stange world, speakin a different language, who knows but the speakers, thinkers, actors and seekers of meaning in the moment, so when the war comes and the new Arabs are Oriental just recall this rap from the temple of the mental, and how it’s true some battler rappers just make it worse, for the verse in the future when we disscourse with Chinese poets and a hobbeyhorse – Dada, momma ain’t gonna tell ya, schools and institutions might well warn you but, they won’t do what i do, bring you face to face with the highpotaknu lunguadge itself > via Saul williams house…. i feel a sicko sometimes, droppin these rhymes in THE POETS back garden, fragrance of Ginsberg, iceburgs and Ginsing. A taosit kick beat boxer, coded language enhancer and brave black early defense radar system = POET. And all the raps and crap attacks on any sacks of nutrition we bring collectively here, into fruition, is just a distraction. To STOP us building a new language, which i speak and i speak here now, cuz we gotta step up to the plate man we gotta speak now, it’s like it’s 1938 and Hitlers about to go KAPOW. And how did those germans feel afterwards when they just sat back and watched, or even worse Voted for the holocaust, cuz it was GOOD for business, and it was. War is good for business and there’s plenty people in it. Armaments make the BEST investments, this is what they should teach in schools. So, if ya wanna talk about battle raps you better read Mein Kampf, which was criticized in America before the 2nd world war but, the American courts banned the criticism with LAW Banned it. [the criticism, not mein Kampf] Slammed it. So hear me. Big Bizzness, Rockerfeller, Rothschild, etc.. all equally responsible for world war two, because > they were investers in the big metal industry, shells, tanks, ships, tanks, bombs, guns, bullets, hummers, the farben works, read about it, before they burn ALL the books, and yet > battle rappers still rhyme like they are workin for George Bush, they rap about torture and killin and disrespect for: the enviroment, women, traditions, religions, their elders, their bruthers of a different pigment, while the real pigment – that’s the government create Nazi death camps, and call it WALL mart, run by WALL street. While letters from the new artists get blasted and unpasted from city slum walls, the only words written BOLD in the dark and cold of our social mold, our place as city ZEN, well it’s pritty when the letters blaze off the grey concrete, when the spraycan muralists take LAW into their own hands and write their truth, on a roof. Now that’s proof that we are comin up, we are comin to write oblivion, the poet obliterates and operates the flood gates to a revolution in language, a new hip hop sandwidge, a nine iron sand wedge to get out of this bunker, this bunk media nightmare, which will pass, when we awake! AWAKE! just hold tight class, cuz i’m gonna blow such a wind out my ass that SHE will hear us on Venus and SHE will not allow the big bizzness to come between us. She will come, she has come… she is hear, she lives inside the dictionary. Please read here
crillyflestyles.
The lights turn hulkgreen, brids silent, the wind hardly present, and yet inside my mind comes a rumble tumble mumble, a bumble fumble mumble rummble, a wild fantasy worse than any autograph seekers tweeker speaker box flosses toss puss slush. A re:birth, but tuff taffy, not so much hush hush Zen, but Az i come back , rwd, re:wind come again. The balance of the force, the twelve tone scale, and the thirteenth cycles, 64 hexagrams turned into idreographic grafitti jams spewed up on the side of aircraft carriers, aircraft made of rice paper and edible cars, invisible electricity and trips to mars, mind warps but for walks not to bring derangement, a focus along with the hocus pokuss, a timespace model for these engagments [i climbed a fence] a played offensive with drum stix, and ego pipes blown like Miles, Like Hunter i’m blown out of cannon kids, and guess what the football season don’t mean Shit compared to the squids and their sacks of ink squirts to write secret coded language messages of skirts of flirts, hangin round yurts eating cherry APL yodagurts. I bring deserts from the desert, a dead sea scroll cake, a caskade of electric harmonic tones tingle your backmind zones, memory like memorex tape…..Memory like memorex tape and hear i taught i dainty have to sport spurt on about wildstyle and the Herc, Z, Futura, Wu and P.E. See here peeps know the time, it’s just because so….we put down the wine, picked up the rhyme from out the primordial souper eara, applied beatific slang and yin yang to get clearer, full burners of understanding, tigerstyle pervert berted X-cute cuts, ninny Mo wax Ape records, global communications, Rephlex, Mu, Test, Fullcycle, Superseal breaks…..i could go on and on, but i’m out my depth in that department, and some folks round here were missing in 93 when i saw a wise MC change me into LSD witch > led to ecstacy led to Sun Ra and… a new space station Opera! a Knew radio wave, time slime grave rumble thud rumble birth of a booktable tank, me boy FranK Chat, inspred that. But here i see so many Hiphip honest folk i stay off that rope, i mean i might sound dope down a wire but on stage who knows what rage it might take to cage me, if i spoke. i joke. I mean. I would Choke if Mike Ladd upt n’ spoke, i might choke i might spoke a likkle tikkle toke, but i have faith and i hope that the forum will provide a new hope so that peacefully at a distance we can offer freestyle assistance to the resistance to bullshit systems. I see em oozing out of mouths everywhere, the IZ of identity, the noun of stoopidity, we are ever changing beings of light, Hell, we are faster than light, the greatest super computer ever, and we get fed CNN weather and National Treasure like it’s a freakin Mental Hospital. I am disgusted at the Trivial pursuits of holywood realism kooks who take revolutionary hooks from history, herstory and all sorts of books and then just re:mashsiz em into a gentle Ben story with no gathering of interested people at the end of a movie. Folks to say…hey…..that movie was really true…i wonder who shot JFK? i wonder if 911 really happened? i wonder if Philip K Dick is the most ripped off Science fiction author who died in 1982 before he got to see his blade runner, changed from a title too long obviously…called ‘Why androids dream of electric sheep” and well shoot darn it’s because they eat sleep and shit androids, TV evangerloyds bunkers and those who imitate, who wear their logo, of their pogo styx products, and neglect that aquaducts and simple huts that could end world famine. TOMORROW if we…the people had OUR money to share, spend, save, give, buy, trade, worship? Instead of having THE BIGGEST crooks in the whole world turn our baco noir reserve into stale sewage oil. They spoil it for all, they being the reality swallowers, thats almost everyone, thats why i’m on the run, away from myself away from the hand that feeds me myself the human caught up in a philosophical cannonhumdrum and shot out into galactic regions…stellar seasons…..and now i come back, to try to reveal the seal calendar thats gonna end the tyrants hold of reality, cuz with these toolz i offer i rekon we can ascend in harmony, without sounding like we are going round the bend in harmony, i feel that and don’t squeel like this in public often, and it’s cool cuz the tools are often hidden from public view like the work that i do and the work that most here, except an obvious few > here on these boards do du We wrap and ripple truths and they all contradict the violence and rape i see our leaders and Teachers commiting. TRUTH! How can we listen to them any longer? How can we stand it? with a painted paradise at the end of it WITHOUT a painted paradise at the end of it. Me thinks that death is a vibratory translation or phase shift, and life is also a vibratory translation or phase shift, except the two are APART. For a darn good reason, LEFT and right, up down, me and you, in and out, the duality i shout the duality of man and woman. Language this or that, Noun or another Noun. It’s sad but thats why we feel small, insignificant just like a statistic, infear eara, afraid that big thunder farther will come spank us if we step out of line, and thats fine, but the lines been cross’t, and….i’m lyke the sun rhyz rhymz, melting the morning frost on the playground, the concrete schoolyard with it’s hoops, and the science lab and the coat rack and the bogs, and the boiler room, my ramble must be a part of my bramble bush berry delights > To put this in manifesto form would likely scare the livin lights out of folks, i would be taken two seriously i believe, i would be taken as to stoned, to old and too peeved, off with the system, already jaded and frayded by the iron age, cosmic schmuck > but know this…. they are all wrong i have seen the reel Red Woods, the lakes the Mountains > it’s true they surround us, but Walt Whitmen iz dead and so is Terrence and so you might find, us, poets flowin blood from nozzles and muzzle puzzles about the path you walk to tie your talk tapes to your super hero capes, made from your Auntie hilda’s drapes, them cream uns wid the likkle snakes on em, little DNA patterns, In England they call em Curtians, opened to bring in the sun and closed to watch TV and get dark with Miss Kathode Ray. It’s freestyle sun day, i am not antagonized by efforts to stop this flow, onward to element Zero. As the crow flies.

Steven James Pratt

October 3, 2005
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 tree….you 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 flower…….it’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 do…..Transcend…in 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 rang…..my 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
of
anarchy, [remeber me?] kunggrinaids coated in LSD swollowed and hollowed out in a phookin shout from the street, a BEAT….to…tap….your 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 c.i.dj’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, but….you 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, but….it’s love
That i’m bringing > it’s Joy that i’m singin, and that’s why….and that’s the reasons….why……love……wireless….dreamtymespace.

Steven James Pratt

October 1, 2005
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

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Steven James Pratt

September 29, 2005
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.

Steven James Pratt

September 27, 2005
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
8. Sure thing i’m humble as pie super baked bird
9. plane, kamikaze freak home rule comet flash out the sky. Bck from before timespace beyond
10. me and my peeps used to live in the pond at the back of your house with likkle doormouse,
11. we run with wild grouse, door louse nation > Alphabets are off, c ords pulled out wall sockets, but lights still shinin low.
13. lower lights tribe beat tanned tawny star bulbs – manga tanka vivid proseody. octosyllabik carved my dna
14. out of a block of jello. hello! “
16. 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 –
18. 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
20. 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.
22. ratta Tatta ting. and yeah – i gut
23. 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?
24. no charge – all electricity on the field – shroom guide to dummies, a cyclopedia in yr/ tummies.
26. 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
28. 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
29. you – and breath me into frost. most high tracked bounce track to track boom bass snare snappy. Although white my afro beats nappy.
31. I’m playin the kid, my conclusions illusions and i knew that much. remains unamed lessons in yangjung wrong
32. 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.
34. 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,
35. 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
37. between all MC’s, web sites celebrate mostly party
38. saddness kills me and i am drawn to it, remindead me of my own loss, in my own life things missing,
39. 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
40. Independent no joke
42. 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
44. Oh why in the presence of such beauty and bounty would you try and stop the clock – broken for 4 years.
45. I’m from the future
46. 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.
48. Empire of a donut glazed monster face lift!
49. cosmetick tocks time for your knu nose job, time for
50. your tity expansion – “implants” – credit cards,
51. mobile phones > whatever makes you happy,
52. well,
53. 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
55. 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
56. 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!
57. 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. ?
58. I’ll, come put pounds shillings and sense inyour makers
60. Safeway noway – wal mart , crewl stagga lee
61. Sears go figure, in fact most money makers don’t wanna consider the other options. Luckily super bionic critters are here!
62. no more sicko posters here –
63. playin off each others ambiguous puke,
64. united in sour stale adult banter. wack and slack, go step outside. cool of your macho self and penis.
66. 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,
68. 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.
70. 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 –
72. what a smell > shoot hell what a stink new world order slushed down the drain pissed on. Control stuck inside alphabetical prixonx, break out!
74. 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.
76. 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.
78. 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,
80. respect to plurality but what we are doing is shortcircuiting gravitea, reality and authority.
81. don’t believe me ask yourself, what ingrediants you see left on the shelf,
82. microphone [ dusty and unplugged] – takes my eye
83. 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
85. not a critic, i’ve been shinning all day. hey,
86. wots up in your local neighbourhood? who’s the baddy the robber? who distributes your facts and how?
88. Bread line was left to guide me to back to castle, grab my sword and cut the kingdom up into 22 pieces
89. 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 >
91. 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,
93. i’m droppin science in the name of humanity, meaning gets twisted for rhyme and your sanity.
94. 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
96. 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?
98. am i in the runnin
99. got a point you recognize?
100. 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
102. 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
104. finished never spell’t wright cuz the empires aflame, set alight by Dada, Vico and Voices of Joyces ghost’s, Hi ho > a toast !
105. 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,
107. 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…..?
Steven James Pratt
September 26, 2005
P is for Pickapen: write a pickled peppoem in my YOUTH

WINDOWS OF 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
buffoons.

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
merchants.

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,
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.
on the….fly
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.

Ackrilic

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

Steven James Pratt

September 26, 2005
Acrillic Figa

Today im gonna look for a face lift.

Steven James Pratt

September 25, 2005