DEEP SCRATCH

Category: fly agaric 23

  • N is For Nine Tales Remixed into 1111 woids:

    http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fflyagaric23%2Fbear-full-mix-july-19th-2009& BEAR HOME MIX: DJ FLY AGARIC 23 by flyagaric23



    Universe Contains a Maybe. Go Get your self off the shelf, climb down the tube and un-stitch your mouth, weave, come on out, shout out, together now. Truck Censorship, Up. reach out, teleport to Geneva, teach out the peach box, call me the Queen of foreva, teach the furtive fruits from the roots, from the shoots, meditate on the river. Squat. State your ground ground your state. Dive in swim with Me’Eva forever and flock censorships to shore. You add the adjective ending to the Law of fives and Burroughs. Diva dives and rises with a Beat-box to put minds in flux. Break out the prison planet damn it. Walk through the walls Kick out the JAMS. Slam your tongue and have a conscious nice day, day in day out and about, kicking in/out the jams with boots coated in SaTiVa, Shiva Finnevil. Blowing wind melody, laying mellow day dreams with tunes from flutes, living in the “DICE” days. Let the wind speak. Kiss my LPs The Keys. (Burp) the the blind speak (Burp Bap) Embracing change, an open mind with a mic’, Diva eva Allieva the world debt of imagination of imagination. Eva electronic Diva. Get your self off the factory shelf moth flickers!, Time to deliver the way of the winding wynding river. Maybe Nine patterns in nine-four timespace, 123 BPM. shroom TeleTelecommunication fast EH! Fast EH! whizz-bang the peed of soundead. Wholly Chao! Wholly Chao! All along the River watchbanktowers. Un-stitch time with the Maybes of NINE time, Eva herself, yourself, ourselves, minutia of greater organisms. Mini MC Elves. Go DO It Trucking do it! start collaborative writing projects like lightening. We live love and learn as one family, join us, maybe in our non-equation gravy tea room. Wind and stars. Words and lights. Jimmy Calendrix pulls out a lighter tonight. Chimera of Nine Millennium bugs in a boogie, from fertile bogs. Percussive sound wholesome like Clogs. Don’t disturb Eva. Code values 9/9/99, the usual data appears absent. Shut down. Rule Lasagna. Nines to mean shutdown. Rule Lasagna. History shot-down. Who’s the author, who’s the author.

    Since way before before History history, from the sky and sea of green tea came the spirit of great Borsky. Tele-ported from 54 BC. Poet bard inventor of mystickle cakes ice cream cakes. Borsky bakes History’s mystery solid to the pan of pun. Leaves scraps for the dog pan. Borsky of the Bong gone eara, days of crazy wisdom, with wit of Banshee and Tongue of tong fu tea. Casting light back out to sea and sky and making the shoes fit snug with a super-lace, knotting land and sky together, Borsky moth flickers! To cross again is not to cross, polite line, do not get cross. Pulling down the sky, Emcee Borsky of the Eburonic Chapter for ‘Pataphysical Research. Borsky To the B Sky Bee Boy Broadcasting Tea tymespicy. Wholly Chao! An ode to Eris and Everyware. Tetra-teleporting slack spyme juice. Borsky on the loose. Ubiquitusk. Tie it up nice to your face. Slingshot rotten teeth bullets to fix the world web. Beat-box the Battle of the French Canadian Bean Field Soup, keep Spitting Maybe debris, phalanx of panarchy. Baba Borsky. Invoking She, and doubtfulness with finesse so slick that it can undress your daughters of congress. Fix this mess, Baby logic can fix this chest of draws. All here now in the room and Borsky will not flee or pee his panties. He stands besides me. Us, on the magic bus, the Maybe baby class of 07. who’s the author, who’s the author.

    Toby Jongleur perceptions angular, aerospace engineer, i can make flowers bloom in triangular patterns in the shape of a mouse ear. If i want. Or just sit by the riverside drinking from a fount singing this Lament of a Groan Man. Smoking a Sherman. No lamb just mint. From hour to theur you listen and hear the Bronx cheur from the folks that give ear n’ eye to Jogleur the Juggleur, spayking is clear as a king. Even after a beur or three, or seven other relative Instruments. Jongleur shows no fear of hell nor of heaven. n’J after class. Rah, Rah, Rah! Rest in Discord RAW! Coincidance Hall TJ passes a year in a single tear. Strong heart of a red deer. Smiling in a nation of racial profiling, harmonica harmony for humanica, solar symphony. TJ mossy software engineer. Shaman of the world and your gentle to your mum. Shaman to turn New York into Amsterdam. Bard TJ financier of words, pioneer volunteer for Humanica, joining hearts and minds together. Got cauliflower ear from days playing Rugby. You put the verb stem in, you take the ending out, At the last frontier getting young wonderers into freewheeling gears for the whole worlds rising day, the world premier of the third seer. No Slaves, No Tyrants, No Discord. TJ metallurgical engineer. The nine gods of Egypt descended from eleven. This Sweet story weaves nine stitches in timespice, and brings nine dogs with nine tales up in hods to the fifth floor. See rectanguleur and sleep away with me with that sheep you dimensional meddling little bus stand! Who’s the author, who’s the author.

    Figure it out yo, just do the Mathias, figure it out yo yoshi yoshi. Like Hungry DavI.D Thoreau up. Me the math face, X,Y Z graph reads “T” thats “T” time for the staff, Math of the snow on the flow. On your face! Eh! Universe Contains a Maybe. Acid rain guitar moth flickers. Snow like missiles of bass when entering the vessels of the lasagna brotherhood, Rule Rule Rule Lasagna. Do the math in the snow, you’ll piss the test! Do the math like the graph, drink the red Bordeaux, who got the flow? (let me hear ya?) SNOW. Who got the flow? (let me hear ya?) SNOW. Who got the flow? Ra Ra Ra! Yush! (let me hear ya?) SNOW. Who can make it cold, hot however you go. Between your eyes on the dance floor at the disco, Eh! Shake it. Eh! Bake it. you put the future tintz of sum in & you milkshake it all about. in concord with number & person. Eh Eh ” Universe contains some gravy. Me crazy flinging lyrics like Tessa Sanderson. With my Snow hammer throw i knock punks down, Yo, i’m even a CEO of a little picture show. It’s a long way to tickle Mary. Do the Math, read the graph, switch on. Turn on to the Math Snow TV show your face place. On the case like John Holmes. Comb back your hair and drop the gun slow honey, snows gonna melt your mind down to chemical elements, right clown to your little toe, snow flow gets in between every toe and paints it in the style of Vincent Van Gough, a tidal flow of menstrual snow can defeat an empire in one, two, three, lasagna slings. Tic-tac-toe time me and my nine we got game to play. Come on moth flickers, paint up your game theory, do the math, my rhymes a Graph, a Glyph and a spliff. All that is, is metaphor. For burning snow mathias man, fire and the Ice Nine. Time to tell a Tub truth or two. Who’s the author, who’s the author.

    The puppet, and the puppeteer. Me and my crew all got a tattoo saying Statutory Apeshit. We are the nine, know no fear. Hard, tuff, Teeth of George Washington, Hair of Kool keith. Listen up you might cat shit. With a copper Aura protecting the flora. Kick out the Jams moth flickers. Me and my brothers and sisters worked our selves into blisters for this life and shampoo. Now we bloom. I got the sauce and the verse noodle, the chrome and the curse, make rhyme tints for the review. ragu, shows you how to break through, with just a gym shoe and a tube of glue, ragu can make do, and now debut to the ground crew the strength of his home brew, ha ha, Ragu can renew the word, undue the absurd with a pool cue. Maybe Baby Ragu can see through the untrue and can subdue the political beef stew that threatens you with Minnesota-style decency. Ragu helps us pull through the intro-verse and traverse the “Universe” (Let me hear the stars) No taboo, all walls to be walked through, use magic fish stew, Oyster stew, kangaroo Ostrich stew. Wholly Chao! Wholly Chao! Rag studied in Timbuktu, got mad knowledge in the bag. Travelled to Kalamazoo to learn Kazoo from Master How Tsu Do. Ragu rhymes like a walking shoe, traveling soul about the world in my black bamboo earrings, reading, writing, daydreaming, sleep-dreaming, pot-smoking, feeding various neighborhood critters, and playing poker. Ragu the Queen of hearts Ragu the Joker. Favorite Student. Fun Uncle. Devil’s Advocate. Unwilling Recruit. Far-Out Friend. Maddening Boyfriend. Diplomat. Bureaucrat. Dreamer. But Who’s the author, who’s the author.

    Tsar bright eyes tongue made of blue stars. Coincidence? Synchronicity? Cosmic Hilaritaste? just a taste. Wrestle with Malignant Extraterrestrials and Gawd while still scratching my face. Minjah Minja who bakes mysteries into edible puppets, action at a distance, effects from afar eye, living laws of five, maybe nine till five? Minja telepathic radar, solid as iron bar, tuned in with her super-Dog star, vigilant like a patrol car, on track like a railroad car and her sweet music, the sounds of minja on her old steel guitja. Minja is healthy, like rain like a salad bar, or Sushi bar, or yugoslavian dinar. Government Puja pusher. Minjah knows where what how and who you are. Left her Dogmas at the door. Telkepathic action at a distance, knowledge from afar, star born! Minja no kiddin’ turns out city lights when travelling back through a time hole. Turn you into a granola bar with my verse so far a crumbling strategy, and im just getting warm, waking up sons. aka Puller. Ninjah! Minjah! The words gonna Get Cha! Wife, momma, youngest daughter, baby sister, favorite Auntie. Rah, Rah, Rah! Rest in Discord RAW! Who’s the author, who’s the author.

    Nip it, slap it like stand up bass. Come on now snap it on. Snap the beat in the Budd. Shuffle to NP’s beat. Shake it baby. Take it off, maybe. The universe contains a baby in the Budd. When i start to rhyme its like a terrible flash flood, nip it in the budd, dam it. Nip it in the budd Eh! Rah, Rah, Rah! Rest in Discord RAW! When i start to rhyme i go off like a scud, like a scud full of flowers. Yeah Eh! Mixed drinks in my rose garden. Rhyme in the mud, from the forests and the waterfall, i rap for Eris, Wholly chao! Nine’s crossed. A vine-hole to the Year Zero Zeroine. She in the cheese moon pulling it all in like a blog hole. History, that bloody dictionary of fundamental materialist facts incidentally recorded An ode to Eris for the Nine and for Elvis, the spirit of Rock n’ Rolled up gods, full blood Budd, mixed tipsy turvey, little rad writing pad wearing a hood. Everything and nothing are everyware now in a Web 3D spice. So lets milk it with the spirit of capitalism. Massage the udder of all cows. Nip it. Everything has vanished. Gone gone gone. Can you sell emptiness and space? SKY can! Ephemeral beings of deconstruction are eating reality. All of it, allmen. No authority can contain the water Web 3D coming all over you with slime and fluffy poodle fur and some bristles and a pink nozzle cap to paint your puzzle black. Nip it. Tuck it. Go ahead punk. Go find you Relative Instruments. Relative Instruments. Relative Relative Relative Instruments. Who’s the author, who’s the author.Fly behind the scenes

    Sweet Flock whore. Dramatic fanatic idiotic robotic word machine comes clean. Whistle Pissing Sonata. Stoned melodramatic agaric. All that is, is metaphor. Acrillic figa it out, axiomatic and diplomatic toxic in high does. Aromatic agaric but toxic. Turntable static tingle taste of Agaric. Wholly Chao! Cinematic stinking Fungus, fun gloss agaric antibiotic, auntie bionic, old tea, drink and be merry agaric, speaking semi-automatic and almost hypnotic toxic, toxicating, intoxicating, symbiotic intoxicating king of beers, and sewers. Turning to Howords Way and Immediate spacetime date tinter technology, lung wordsmanships but bogged down in a war on culture. They put holes in my raft. Hegemony, monotony, monogamy. Sturch choirs in chorus. The Spooks that spiked us? Straight authority figurines. DO Poetry, Join the Battle of the French Canadian Bean Field Souper men. Make it KNu. A stew. Make it brew Ha Ha. Unstoppable. Unknowable. Unthinkable. Your Mom. Love. Sweet FA spray particles of rim. Nine portals “driving storm” to Butter-table-minster. 1776: Starport “licks”. Forged keys. Unlicked lockgates. acrillacked restraint. Daisy-chain makers arms scaffolded. Lock, key, gate. Bow, crescent, chicane and curve. Who banks with river banks anymore anymore. Oh shit Diaper backward spells repaid. Who’s getting laid and paid with aid, who’s the author, who’s the author.

    Nonprophet, back to back to transmit the message about how we make a global massage to relax the globe, see through the fake shit, nunsrocket tool kit bag full of witty letter to make your eyelash glitter. Star fragments i emit, cutting at History; a drill bit, turntable skit fleeting in/out, shake it, Eh! Shake it! Eh. The Universe contains a maybe so bake it baby. First take at a Ken Traverse Lament, then flush it away. With Nine here in everyware world always on timespice, fresh like what’s dew to the grass, made all my base hits and reversed profits to fit the feet of prophets, dressed in a nuns gown, the Suits just can’t make it man, suits and brown shoes don’t make it, Rah, Rah, Rah! Rest in Discord RAW! “BUY IT” commit to this HIT, hoof to the record stores and buy a bit of Nine maybe, use this tool kit put my rhymes back together, together bring the weather and colur back, the wooden furniture and garden perfumes, all in the room make it, bake, twist and get off it. Wholly Chao! Wholly Chao! Lickety split. See y’all in the orchestra pit where i’ll be piloting my spit to send waves out to caves on Mars, 12 bars blues, better pack your travel kit and have your expansion bit, double knitting time and rhyme and do it legit, non-prophet. Scribe of the holy writ, allmen! That’s the future perfect pissing tints. Who’s the author, who’s the author.

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    Steven James Pratt

  • D is for DAMNBIGUATION.

    Please do not mistake me for Steven Pratt – the Australian M.P. he seems an OUTSPOKEN anti Grafitti tool. Do not confuse us.

    “But is it art?
    Saturday, April 21, 2007, 05:18 PM GMT [General]
    After dealing with bad news in my last blog I thought I’d dedicate this one, to a certain extent, to a news story that made me smile.
    Where art and vandalism meet: one of Banksy’s images.

    Australian MP Steve Pratt (no, I’m not making this up) has gotten himself into a spot of bother after he destroyed a commissioned public artwork as a part of his campaign against graffiti. Mr Pratt (it doesn’t stop being funny, does it?) had assumed the mural, on a concrete bridge in Canberra, was an “obnoxious piece of vivid graffiti vandalism”. It was, in fact, a fully paid for art work commissioned by a nearby sports club.
    The subject of graffiti seems to have made the headlines several times in recent months. Britain’s very own Banksy is now thought of not as a vandal but as one of the country’s leading artists, despite the fact that nobody is really sure what his real name is (it might be Robert Banks). A couple in Bristol (Banksy’s home town) recently sold the graffiti on the side of their house for £102,000; the house came free with the purchase.
    Only yesterday he was in the news once more after London Transport staff painted over a Banksy painting estimated to be worth around £300,000. I find it curious that there are no other graffiti artists currently attracting this much publicity. There’s no denying that Banksy is incredibly talented, but is talent alone the reason his vandalism (because, let’s face it, it is) is now worth hundreds of thousands of pounds while other artists work is simply deemed a pain in the neck for your local council.
    There is a lane near where I live, in Cardiff’s Llandaff North, which is covered in graffiti on both sides, from one end to the other. Some of it is crude, I’ll grant you, but some of it is very good indeed. It reminded me, in its own humble way, of Berlin’s West Side Gallery; the stretch of Berlin Wall preserved for the quality of graffiti left on it.
    Personally, I don’t have much of a problem with graffiti, providing its in all the right places. A giant, airbrushed ‘tag’ across the dome of St Pauls would, for example, be wrong, as would images of cannabis smoking aliens on Hampton Court, or Manga style women in nurse’s uniforms on Stone Henge. But many of the places where we see graffiti are ugly and soulless. The Bauhaus-inspired council estates that we somehow thought would engender utopian communities but instead became dour, grey and hostile have, in many places, been enlivened by the addition of a little unplanned art.
    The concrete gullies of the District line wouldn’t quite be the same without the occasional daub of colour to wake you up on your morning commute. And what journey across London would be complete without the spotting of Tox’s latest handiwork?
    Graffiti isn’t always “obnoxious”, to borrow a word from Mr Pratt. Sometimes it makes more colourful those places we’ve made ugly. Can there really be a sound argument for preserving just how grim and foreboding the underside of so many bridges are by removing what little colour has been put there?
    Granted, there is no place for graffiti in the likes of Saffron Walden or Tunbridge Wells because graffiti is an inherently urban art form. Its home is the big city. But surely in those places it has made beautiful (and I do actually mean beautiful) we should be preserving it, and not just if it comes with a £300,000 price tag.”

    Steven James Pratt

  • ML is for Maybe Logic: The final secret of the Illuminati.

    “maybelogic” the movie!


    ROBERT ANTON WILSON Maybe Logic
    The final secret of the Illuminati revealed. Finally.

    Directed by Lance Bauscher
    Coming May 2006 from Disinformation Home Entertainment

    “I have learned more from Robert Anton Wilson than I have from any other source.”
    – George Carlin

    Winner Best Documentary Audience Award – San Francisco Independent Film Festival

    Robert Anton Wilson is undeniably one of the foundations of 20th Century Western counterculture. Robert Anton Wilson: Maybe Logic, a feature-length documentary, is a hilarious and mind-bending journey into the multi-dimensional life of Robert Anton Wilson, author of the Illuminatus! trilogy. Featuring video spanning 25 years and the best of 100 hours of footage thoroughly tweaked, transmuted and regenerated, Maybe Logic follows the ever-open eye of Pope Bob as he penetrates human illusions, exposing the mathematical probabilities and spooky synchronicities of the eight dimensions of his universe.

    Features:
    Tom Robbins, Paul Krassner, Douglas Rushkoff, R. U. Sirius, Douglass Smith, Valerie Corral and Ivan Stang.

    Extras:
    Maybe Logic exercises – in the spirit of a zen roshi and the exercises of Prometheus Rising and Quantum Psychology, Wilson leads the viewer through experiential maybe logic.

    ROBERT ANTON WILSON Maybe Logic
    Directed by Lance Bauscher
    Coming May 2005 from Disinformation Home Entertainment
    82 minutes + 12 minutes bonus footage * Region 0 * NR * $19.95 (US)
    Disinfo.com

    Label: deepleaf productions
    Catalog#: none
    Format: DVD
    Country: US
    Released: 2003
    Genre: Non-Music
    Style: Interview, Political, Education, Speech
    Credits: Artwork By [Package Design] – Propane Studio
    Directed By, Written-By – Lance Bauscher
    Executive Producer – Timothy F.X. Finnegan
    Featuring – Douglas Rushkoff , Ivan Stang , Paul Krassner , R.U. Sirius , Tom Robbins , Valerie Corral
    Music By – Amon Tobin , Animals On Wheels , Boards Of Canada , Cinematic Orchestra, The , Funki Porcini , Ognen Spiroski , Pullman , Rick Walker , Supplicants, The , Tarentel
    Music By [Dvd Menu] – Fly Agaric 23
    Narrator – Robert Anton Wilson
    Other [Associate Producers] – Amanda Dofflemyer , Fly Agaric 23 , Katherine Covell
    Other [Best Boy] – Robert Anton Wilson
    Other [Camera] – Amanda Dofflemyer , David Allen , Ivan Stang , Katherine Covell , Lance Bauscher , Robert Dofflemyer
    Producer, Edited By, Artwork By [Designed By] – Cody McClintock , Lance Bauscher , Robert Dofflemyer
    Notes: Contains over 3 hours of material including Maybe Logic feature, expanded interviews with all the featured RAW cohorts, maybe logic exercises, and original, non-simultaneously, DVD-randomized footage of the best of Pope Bob.     – MAYBELOGIC DVDETAILS

    Special thanks to donacha.


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    http://flyagaric2019.blogspot.com/
    http://acrillic.blogspot.com/
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    http://electronicdrugs.blogspot.com/
    http://ataleofatribe.blogspot.com/
    http://www.myspace.com/flyagaric23
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    http://soundcloud.com/flyagaric23
    http://www.flickr.com/photos/14660896@N05/
    http://djflyagaric23.blogspot.com/

    Steven James Pratt

  • T is for TRYDONT 2013

    Please, Mr Blair
    (now…Mr Cameron)
    Please TRYDONT!

    Again I ask myself (in 2006 and 2013)
    Trident of Victoria on a
    Two penny peace?

    Tridents are manufactured
    in Britains BOMB factory!
    (Somebody call the POLICE!
    Quick, a BOMB factory!
    BBC News from 2000

    on your coat of arms,
    those dolphins, please remove them.
    Royal Navy Seals
    you do NOTHING but ill to
    marine life.

    And as far as i know,
    give a fuck about
    real Lions, or seals!

    why not spend the money on
    clean drinking water,
    adequate food and
    some shelters?

    livingry for the
    BILLIONS of people
    around the world and

    millions in the UK!

    who would want to
    terrorize them rather than
    help?
    what sadistic sons of
    bitches?

    may Poseidon and all the Gods and Goddesses
    of the ocean curse
    the nuke dealers, lobbyists and M.P’s
    responsible for Trident

    Steven James Pratt

  • WCSQ is for WORLD CLASS START QUALIFIER

    English ar wydely con.sidered fust modem
    Society to develoop swimmin aza sport
    And, Poiklitics as a soggy tea bag tale

    Ar bin terested in swimmin un’ splish sposhin’
    Cashin sports. Riffy Cash scams bore me
    Dryland based libconbore politikx
    Bourgeoisee yow
    Bore me,,,

    April 1, 1974: Mosh up a’ former cownty borough of
    Dude-ley, with the Burroughs of Alesowing
    And flouridge.

    Button the market peepull “vote”
    With their own wonga tickets
    And so them’s with mowa wonga get mowwa “votes”
    Inherited, or wage layba produced survival tickets
    Ou cares?

    Arf soaked public lyke brainbathed fish
    Them vaguely aware of the cut in which they swim.
    Ar bin golden at the 2012 oilixpix

    1837: Fust paddlin comps held in London’s splashing pools.
    July of 1967: Doodley con.cill ban yokles swimming in Lodge Farm Rezza
    Because… swimmers were becoming obstructions
    To boats on the water
    July 20th, 1967: Pablo Neruda receives the fust Viareggio-Versile prize.

    1987: Teaurbridge floetry Club wus demolishevelled by Mudley Clownsilly
    Cuz it wuz riffy, and them replaced it with leisure pond fur blooming 90’s
    Leisure and disinvestment indus.try
    Very noyse, but unsuitable fur competitive swimuming.
    7th January, 1869: furst meating of Amateur Slimming
    Association.

    4th June, 1901: Ourbridge Floetry Club founded as
    Pablo Picasso exhibits his paintings in Paris fur the fust tyme
    They feet. acrobats,
    Harlequins, prostitutes, beggars, scrubbas and artists.

    Deslumber 31st 2005: Untied ingdome giz o’er
    Her presidensea ov the Con.cill ov Eurobeen Onyin.

    2nd August, 1900: Foundrynation stone of Nowourbridge
    Public Baths wuss laid by Isaac Nash.
    Bath water come from a well cut in local sandstown.
    Annual subscription fix’d at fiyv shillyns
    Juss 25 pence, a bargain for a 12 yerolt kid
    Werkin 60 hours a week for 2.d in a myne

    1939-1945: Towerbridge baths closed fur public due to word war II.
    17th May 1923: O.pen air swimming bath med at Stiridge

    3:30, 31st December 2005, Brierley ill Leisure Centre
    Closed. By DudMetBoCou.
    72 con.cillors, representing 24 wairds
    Both an electoryall boundary and
    A divizion within a horse pickle

    1894: Brierley Hill comes n’ urb.an di.strict
    Under the yocal yobernment Akt of 1894.

    2006: There are 23 olympic sized cuts in the YUK. England 15,
    Scotland 4, Ireland 2 and Wales 1.
    1 iz under con.struction
    At the Merry’ Hell shampooing center
    Poiklitics seems lyk a pools lottery in 2006x

    An Oilympic Pool is 25m wyd
    Depth ov 2.0m minymum
    50m in length, while the 25m width
    Allows for 8 laynes, each 2.5m whyd
    With an extra 2 spaces of 2.5m wyd outside oss rowds 1 and 8.
    2.5 x 8 tracks = 20m + (2.5m x 2) = 25m in total as

    1896 and 1906, women could’nt participate in
    Oilympic gairms cuz…
    Baron Pierre de Coubertin eld firmly to the rumpant conservative
    Dogma of the Victoryian eara, that women wuz too
    Frail to engage in competitive sports.

    I lyke competition in the cut. I lyk fun sports.
    Yet privatization wud not never ever resalt in tru competition
    If a natural monopoly exists wool it?
    Your Scrumpin’ our orchards!

    Conlablibortive Burroughs talktics:
    Slaving urban language Sub-contracts with precise
    Gaffers waffle

    1960: British conernments Beeching Actx hijack
    The costs ov running the British tram system by pullin’
    The plug, on what them considered to be unprofitable riffy” railway lyons

    Among uver tings, Leonardo Da Vinshe wrote about flow>
    Of water in rivers, and ow flow zeffected
    By various obstacles in er’ row’d

    Ow ya transfurring propertea
    From public ownership to private merchant ownerships?
    And/or, both/and… transfiguring the monagemint
    Of a service or activitea from an arf soaked gaffernment…
    To the private pocket secta
    Who issues it, How?
    Rekkids are set crooked
    With some Doodley Burrough accense

    1917: S.F.C Motto crafted upon the S. Coat of donnies.
    Bridge and 2 gold’n froots,
    Gold Fleace suspunded by black Chains of Skin
    And Leather Dressing LTD.
    Chayn Cable Industries, and them hanging sheeple.
    ‘1 heart, 1 why’, singleness of mind and
    Purpoise. To steer, shepard, pilot, escort, swimmer.
    1 pool, 3 million folks. No wey serviam.
    Are yow billdin pools in Iraq for babe lovers that YOU liberated?

    March 1990: After many swummers protest throughout Thatchers late 1980’s
    With signs and LOUD chanting
    The grystal Leisure Centre wuz born, twice
    Pun historic baths jed corpse
    It re:open.ed con.plete wid gravy machine,
    Ellefonts, Bond.i beach beats and
    A Non-competitive swimming pund.

    Will a swimmer be free’d from yampy chains of capitalist slaverewind
    When they docked away our baths for them’s private
    Pools, private betting and private gaming crackers

    Britomartis Triton Leucothoea Posedawone
    [WORLD CLASS START QUALIFIER]

    Acrillic Figa

    Steven James Pratt

  • L is for Lyfcap: Museyroom Round Fungloss Graves

    Phly jam ambrosiarealized recycled and golden
    thread sewing seed nectar
    amber honey mead

    runnymeade spreading corn seed,
    bread money heads of Barley, Up she was
    > Up here with her >
    sing praises to the fairyest of em all

    mickamackamagnus mckennacawley
    she, Valley wedge crop protecter,
    Mary Mum mag lite the lane’ as we sew sour berry
    sweet story

    Weave stitches in time and bring nine
    dogs with nine bricks in hods, falling into
    Adammonscabin-tomb with glory

    Oh, with a view, broom and soon resurrectmoon,
    honeymead and maypole 1st maypole,
    Axis-Ribbon RNA messengers X ted.

    Runnymeade wound axistao monday >
    tchewzdei Opus focus on Samhain
    Iris trees looking fruity
    Novememeber meme in the beer,

    Brew is all, recall? cauldron ash hazel
    smashed potatoes and st. Johns blackthorn banks
    of the stour bitter, bites IT bite >

    got old of my one legged lightning one night
    [Ulerin’s dogstar], fried hens eggs
    Googles swishy wet rain

    thorthondonna Belle Pure light of bliss >
    clear light of piss > Pist >
    cycling and verbatoon twisting Yoshi Yoshi you see,
    Annaliviannaconda-Coincidance of cuntfairyeez >

    Aboriginal sneeze, The teletoldus > Avatar very mush

    from the nasal passage of Bill Boggyman. Stuck with Bogs. Sluggish English Eyelashings severed acrillic post fly agaric re:hashing swingset assembliss songs for Womble Lee stadiohm, Chomping-Pion spitting opinion, wheeling a barrow of marrow for tomorrow mathew micheal wrote the motor boat ashore, hairy Loo seat > sea saw margerine door slippy dark cavern rocktomb stinky word heaven, her womb > shavern hayvern Malvern Hill knocker, heaven helps with severn steps and rainbow kisses > Culpo de Dido! refraction and complection with an air of completion, totalitea drunk down and again resurrected wonder, mind on an axis wonder where > who? how spacetime grids adhere to semantic lion trapeze art gallery shows, and Bloody mary cellary summers on a rooftop in Brooklynn, pickin up book lynnnames > reading lennon washing brain with Fenollosa Chinese written characters, i digress, the Goddess alphabet versus and waltzes and dances harpmaster, robutter celt soundsystem. A barn dance three stepping stone, trinitea brew Positron, Electron, neutral-tron and Tommy Tronic tonic Ginius > space invaders any thought vessel, freestyle writing co-ordinates encircle my dome plate, agaric corn tomb wonder broom slide side shooter sharp schmudged jug of ale, golden door nail juice and sprouting fungustus rain forest berry Christmusk smells, mucky single 12″ jungle bells of New York> Mystic biscuits in hand, three ears of CORN, a reaper to bring the year to sing to HER because She brings the Yearning, Gaia > yes Mummer me, me mom, she germinates the seed and dudly sunny gym and sister wordsley all in the sleight, o’er muntinns and lumpost boxes, curbwinders and wind tunnel traps, shops and hops locked off other than cumin out their tups, tap tap, drumstix clatter shockin mastergarment entangle bramble mean’t cement drive 7 whell rainbow bridge constructer, cycling encircle jerk off radio > To Her the season sister, She provides space in silence upon the empty wind, me sixteen feet under in an Oak box, the TOR, Tarot rototation nation on a platter-head pussycrow of Kings, seasons Tailsinn, bard king and priest kraft, Oiye! who stole the priestcraft from My poetic loving brothers and sisters, Awake! Painters and artisanz Frescoz, craft folk sleeping ? when did the political military brute blow their flute and stick their ugly foot threw my straw hoot > livin on root to root word etymology, why fly i be, flyerwhyr fearless phalloides > poetic intoxication and resurrection through a whiff of Whisky Mtea at a funneral rite. Rotaturntable fable sga larger swig and puffed up skunky funk packed Buff Zap Bang Bommshroom tomb and words POP like comc book balloon speak > a new brew > each and every timecountedtrick > cauldrons running cold connudrumz tummuz tammez Japan again a Bran O Bronto Clontarf Pint, Half Millenium Point Crown Jail Escape Dillinger Dancefloor devastation > bubblin brooks and i’m blathering wearing cheynemail roaring to go > salmon and gold rings inside post box > inebriation and evolution get combined through metaphysickness. Flyer self combed and combined with a current natural self soul, in the flesh fly feeds and needs to reflect a higher chapel with wings who singx all frequinoxy waves “My ego” might not be able to flow, kayknee talk of years ago and lost paradise wounded rewound and dumfound land > [nice] but hey, Climb the Mount, spin that wheel, throw the dicebox, spin that Ching! like a Musketear i’m building bridges from Pages 308 Wake longuardness and Canto LVI [Eonochs] twitch would be Livia Live. Live and be born Ze woid is Endead. Go on a mission and Bug on out! Ze woid has bean sproutrooted and organickmickamudpuckpost chrysophrase Photographs are being posted to my neurocortex just now > start with honeycomb beesknees and Dunne cow. Bog and god and good is mud, mudapplication in Lye town, we are the mud people and the Bog was my birth place, fishing for naughts and Nulls in the Pondlife in wellingdone boots and listeing to willingpalayed flutes and reeds grow, vines, ivy, hazel, Willow, Whispers on the wind, still blowing in my childs ear, a thirsty ear for novelty. Pick up your pens and talk tapes and laptops and write till you drop, let it go > out > breath and inhale the Knu woid world and stop the war. Warme. Hark and bezerk! To HER to the wind swept boggy hills and hedgerow chocolate sunsets, dark hedgehog goblynns > black cats muskets and Muscaria trumpets, likkle miniture trumpet playing fairies hidden up my arse, and Hark! Winter solstice > saturnalia the turning verse, Universe turning waltzing zing and Tang tongue Ching Ming mixung Seasons > polyspoores spin enlightenment and water willowyellowcups scoop up bits of the painting, like they were scooping out the arcylick paint OFF the surface finnish, of the picturepoem painting hanging and SUNG. Mao M Men and Mountain but Mountain is Femminyne and Nayme is not the thing, name games the name and i wear a turbine tripple jet thrusted plant of powerflower Amanita on my Avant Head-band. W and water, women, wet words, water wave and wow wee wet and water running dribble > just a pebble in the W Wave weather solution, weather waves wash windy ways > weather waves wish womenwater babylogic whispers > whichever weather storm you form whichever witch wicker winding window you OPEN. Witch side of triplicity Goddess WWW and a wild world women with witch wound wood waterbaby yes, with W “Eye” insectarian > wish water and whatever is called “NOW” seems sewn threaded and knotted helicked and locked keywhole hologramick nick knockqueenox hide and seek week strong semicircular solution > crescent city Whales, equals W. Look at the Word. W has the meaning “Mountain” in Chinese. W’ has the form of a ripple or WAVE pattern in nature. W doubleyou Yoshi Yoshi, slug helix longridge lungwitchway pathgraph painter > sandwhich with witch wonderful wild berries, deep purple plum jelly fly wave. [hello] grapefleshwhine Time wave weaving and woven wooly jumper jesus fruits. Four goldred leaf book-bound to happen, bound to Dover, bonded wharehouse nation > Bluebirds stenciled in white chalk canvas, “UP” letters burning off walls, Lords of Hyroglyfeetea letters wait. brewing mandrake, henbane, Egyptian blue water Lilly and John and jove the ship to Venus. She waves her wrists [goodbye] and whispers wunce more > illson illson and illson, Colynn, Pether, Rubort wyde web, witch words can you put 2 WWW that equal meaning as heavy huh. Huh. All words and language came from nature.

    Graves and books of trees awake yes. This is a fact that i believe more fundermentalstylistickly each day, a tree ooger you might say. And yet…. documents on scribble printed trees hold nations to their knees, embargos and Public policy spelling politicks on goldplated pogo stix, jumping loons in the Senate > i sinn it Live and i’m sad. Leaders driving diamond studded Hummers through slumms, Billion dollar drum rolls and Footballshit diversions, excursions and expensive executive “manager” “get your hands in another pie” > type fonts > roman gothic, Roman catholick, Protest and Christ Buddha Krishna who was Finn? McKewl, all of em? Non-local yoke yoga Joker > hologrammummy god of word woid webbs to come > thighs to make you cum > brumm, sings to come again > woid birth in poetic hemisemi Tombs of Mind, resurrected in Egyptian Ceremoney rites, high row-Micheal-Glyphs > a boat a shore a sure, Books (shored) Beat generation armordoor > banging drums with hyperspatial chizelpod pens and grizzly Blues songs from deepforest telle eve classics > yes musiq revolution > arts and crafts yes! use these rafts avoid drafts to war > birth your craftyraft down a river runnymead valley > I stopped the revolution because of seeing lice eat their own litter, and for em eating their litters in Europe > These raps are rich beehivecuzz Ash willow Birch Mapple Apple Ayahuasca and blossomly impossible facts in
    masked bandit brains shooting “word” signifier punditoes > pot twisted turntribalism spun and flung to the net, For peace! web weaving wave carrier jump net jets > a rewinding Dj fly agaric mix tape from 1996 [it’s happening again] and it’s why Hip Hop sucks in ninteysix, In 93 “Quest” vision bass and drumz > metalheadz turbines rolling, Spindle tape trooper metalic wulf-town industrees turning metalicka smoking wen-stax of waxtribal-steel revolving wheels, seal/calendars hubba bubba buddha mandala twisting > steelbridge and Millingham, Cow turkey baconham farms, Pembroke and Pendragooknee fixed up Council statements > wounded Dudley silent but cunning and all spinning spun fragmented breakbeats, Winstons “Amen” breaks and “Incredible Bongo Apache breaks” Hopi, Zunni, Breaks and Windjammer Hops hip brewed into Muscaria holotrack titles > goole eyebulls into top lids, kick hat snare back2back, get High High and ride the metalick wave of the future tech synth sample pitch shift dub wize digital rising mechanic army of breakbeat poets, who can call digital trax organic? new fragmented DJ chops into Occult rootriddim manuals for constructing KNU vision-age earth city spaces and Revolutionary booklights consisting of Muskatears Wake/Cantos Page 308. [shudder, what deadly loom] Look at the Musketear and Figa Acrillic turntable technique > beat diggin waltzing curryspundanced > book digger twisted Ill figa [Waterwave Mountain peach blossom buzzom snuggle nozzle puzzle rustler uppa], on the mend and round the corner philosophicalla muscaria, not jokingjumping jesus-Buddha up brother and sister Isis, Pull over you Hindu Mudslime, Gather Horus Limbs > Indian American and Indian Nepali mixture > rice and X Box. Weeping Camel and SUV donut turns > bad bwoy fuel consumption down the local mall > Non-local all of it and my text jumping for Joy, seeing the Tree names appear Oakyland is like Willow creeks > winding puzzle games, calendars, and bug in the beginning insectoid wheels of fourtune, spinning for gold, the 3.14 ratio, spinning for Gold for the decad Pie thangaurus, 1 2 3 4 Decad, a three hundred-fold novelle, cabballa fares are high this moth throat Lamb > transfomation and Chrysophase vision seal calendar [insert date of revolution here] and give woid Ze end > birth Christal balls and talk of corn barley curly haired Goddess. YES > She the muse always to her, the seasons only turn when SHE reaps weeps what we sewn up, fly stitched into her womb> her electric field of corn powered by the SUN and Bucky Reich Tesla knu her Zeropointed ears and Rabbit whiskers Jumping through the corn fields pesky lice nittle nettle clinker sprite whisp, slippery toad shit, witches pussycat of mischief > justice stewing in a cauldron [the side the side is opening] and i’ll fit Mcbride, Yeats and Joyce inside > Lo! calling the DEAD poets society, self preservation is not of THIS nation, freaky jazz improv poetree born acidead > and died wild as Courtly lovepox, and wired like Courtly TV, trapped by TVangels entagled mangled meaning, Meow > i refuse to battle you, OH TV. [bows] Vision i have and vision eye hold to cycle bicyckle meanings on 1001 cathodelick ray channels in Arabic, French, Eyetalyin, Jabberwooky-ish and Poetrash talk. The lost language of messiahs, Ode to JOYCE and pitched in every voice and sub species at hand/mind/process > the roots of the trees and the organic WAVE double Dublin Dub plate vinyl slang heaped ply over ply, stax of wax over sealed dub plate sovereign Amanita pressing. Sung aloud! I’m bangin techno into shape. an ornette bell, rung and attracting strange songblows, wrong write, wrote murder slander and gander goose loose stylez, free and easy come flex with me. still, fli-book acrillic breaker of vaults pole vaulter of faults to reach six trillion vaults and blasting humanity into space with Stilts to help traverse the unknown freestle verse coindance and concressing convergence chance game of tarot cards, spun and gamblyn bards, throw down shards of street knowledge respect and realism, spinning wheel of rotamotor turn tables tripple transverse goddess fables Amaneata i told ya.

    Eat the authority and Lick the church yards, make meters squint into Pookaseconds, coming nanosecond > take a peeko into Vico and snatch hatchlings or eggs of easter up and up to HER rizzinn hyperboreans, “bard Symbolist Gurrilly tonguetolojisters claiming the isle and biological diversity and “Knowledge wit wisdom and courage” from each University waltz and Surrealist collage marching Celtic fairies > out into bottle ink stainford. Letterplates and Gutenburg shields held high > wielding song of life, Mantra 357. Mamasutra tell the tales of twisted stein-space, I and I jah rastarotaturntribal bible for the Grey race to heaven. Finn agains racing and singing to birth itself, WOID’O garick > to birth me Genni out the bottle, running Horsecattlesheep powa PO! Bon morning, resurrection through the O’ penning of the Month > Open agape abyss Lenny Crevice > are you gonna go my way > Openning the Mouth and Spattacluster galaxy claus > Jesu Spiritea Santa Saturn Satanickle sickle Spinn electron Tommy Cubehouse 21st Seasons Winter Sol [The S” mystery from FW] Sun still stice, styx sister Mother Sleep, re:seeding but FORward not like Hair re:seeding, backerds bastards Lords, Solar phallic jesus “Egyptsea” Dukes Kings and mudslingers. We roll in it and get dung on our torso, shrooms grow like golden snow from my armpits, work down the coal pits thats what my ancestors do did daddy day do i guess. Searching for relics of energy, Arthur Scargills, bulbous skirt, garter party Labour red and white, Britton and the Union jack shit Buttons pressed Pressings dairy seal chocolate biscuit eshucteaon tallon and Lion in my closet, a Princess in my bed, a nation dribbled out my nose and onto her pillow, and still She [not Thatcher] she of ALL England, Wales, Ireland, Scotland, California, New England, Europe, Asia, Africa – Even the Silver space Anita Dianna Dog bitch speckled show Puppy pillowspeckled constellation behind the sun > still here golden ration in my eye, divine proportion, like a Porche slick and shaped to interact with wind, rain, gravity and Rainbows > created to remind us of union, multi coloured therefore, maybe incandecent > gentlewoman, Her the hill, Green man and Golden fleece women [bark of the Yage vine bark] female trees, the Ent Wives. Vine of the soul [organic biological free global internet wet soggy noggin overcoated broadcast reception projection process] Nanotech pilots climbing inside of her buzzom, surrealist lovers and beauty speak engineers, queers, wild bezerk Prattle cattle of Love forces, and spun versus, turntable slung over camel, dropping Humpty after Hump hump, rump rattlers through Sub bass Saharan Terrain, through swamps of Siberia Amanita Musketer spins Koryak rhymes and Eyecarowing tales, Shaman songs from welsh hills, and Poetry Whychbury [to be learn’t] and tales of trees and prattle between word word nature and mother natures a whore > said the shutgob two the head > supra expanding ego head, inflater scriptor self templehead, Mouth full of tongue fairies [aggaloopingwinezephyr] and leaves covering my gentle tools, i await further instructions. Momentarily, and then merrymount around again alternate currency side swing > i swing pole to pole mayday to halloween and back like flydermunth > in search of bridges to transport ship mates and shipping penmunth Bards over here, to my shore, swimming together > Out above the law wall, Pen in hand, bioinformatick tracked and skirt circuited > dictionary in fragments torn to bits by Jimi Mugcoffinlynn shreddy wheat licks from my fingers, electric ascension chordx Music the vehicle yes, twelve the key, twelve the vibratory keyhole for spacemind holyday everyday,

    Timewave water Mountain wet wonder moist soggy sloppy condensed plaster scene, casting forms taking shape drying off, hardening condensare again, a new form fragiles and getting tense gravity HER Knotted wisdom braids of Dublyn Helick Elix helix E’ Her, Helix and looks tasted twisted Double strand X-Y spiral tribe down/up across vertical Hurryzonetal Zeropoint axis Zero, Time wave Zer Waterwavewishing Washing wells circle thrice and spin three times > waving arms and singing Maypole charms, Dharma Bums cheecky rose red, rising dawn, golden Mushroom dawn come join me i have nose manifesto, Rudolphinn the Dolphin maybe my Motto and merlin cave maybe my grotto, religion is horse speak blotto, Ramblings of a Drugged Horse on K. OK then, hault tanks with tankquillizers > test me timewave twisted tongue Lung trickertape unwound udderground overstated state of mindlyness, you however are also in this river reading swimming grasping at logs with me, grasping at reason like frogger jumping across the spectrum 48 K abyss of meaning, 8-16-32-64 bit Liebiknitz King when it happens = revolution, magic, cards, books codes cyphers and fly agaric toadstools providing Stools for poetworm spiral nested systems sagas to unwind and unfasten hymselves into Carrol christmas Dogdson golden section dawning bagpuss yawning, and Pink/ white and grey colours bouncing around a fluffy candy cat scene. Early morning animation of a nation, a seal calendar realized and theori sed moment to moment through potree Maryjane! my love bringing ambroasiarealizations of worlds in collision, a Burrus Language Virus out of cuntroll, an Outbrake of Terror [stop] and Christian Dogma traps set like cherchjelly. Daniel and the Lyons mediaspherical den, impossible to escape until equinox locks unfastened the Waketoes code exploded Internet wireless worldwide networked and just two texts X and Y JJ and Ez > I’m off to bed agen > dreamcatcher world webs and spun doctors pundits and collaborative “Square” Mason Egyptian dead talkin Society preservers of Jam logic > all the natural elements amino a meaning acids, and four chemical keys to super cosmic threaded wovern ladder snake shape dubblyn he lick keyhole lazy twist Golden spiral DNA postcritter. Einstein plus spiral equals: cosmic superimposition. So take UP! your marks! Quarks and get set. Ready flow. Toe to toe. In the Mu mento, forget to knot tier, forget me knots in my hair, my pubic hair has signs only me and my lover speak of, HER hair golden ringlights telephone chords coded and Vine like, skyladder Buttersmooth conditioned skyrope > a portal doorway ascension bliss Stellar regional favourite, foreign legions of star spacetime surrealists pist presented and foot sure, walking and waving arms, legs, and kites flying ideograms signiflyagarik > Red with

    White spots. Spotted betty Boop handbag
    hags, Santas Outfit, seat covers, the Devil Satan Santa
    Jesus.

    mummble bummble
    hummble
    golden bow [bows]
    name-a-ste.
    Fly

    Steven James Pratt

  • 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

  • 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

  • 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

  • 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