Breath, Breath, to the KLF
Life, life, to family and wife
Curse, curse, on war mongers perverse
Love, love, all humans hand glove
Stop it, stop it, those who fire the damn rocket
See, See, hypocrite BBC
Peace, Peace, in the middle east
Greased, Beast, selling arms murder feast
WHAT AI? https://mphdj.blogspot.com/p/what-ai-said.html
Tanmoy is here.
AI Album Amsterdam Art Art and Technology Artificial Intelligence Beatbox beats blues books Boris Johnson Brexit Corona Slayer Coronavirus Deep Scratch Deep Scratch Remix Design Science Detroit DJ Steve Fly finnegans wake fly agaric 23 Funk history James Joyce Jamm Pro jazz John sinclair maybe logic Music poem poetry Radio Free Amsterdam Remix Robert Anton Wilson Science Fiction Sixty Squintin Quarantino steve fly tale of the tribe Technology turntables Udio Video Vinyl writing
From the files, under edit compilation. Off the top. S
wrote a rhyme in wrong order
chaos simplicity, wrapped and tracked pasta border
word marauder playing monk on record her
door to door delivery days
making beats on the corner chords and ways
walk the talk tale swerving slug snail
snug in sun or hail, no email
beats blown through the letterbox
feets quick like bipedal fox
house to house nation
each family feeling inflation
wheeling their patience
painting their places
generally kind and pleased to meet faces
I take my paces, step to divide beats
accents in all places and leave spaces
for what I don’t know
hip to honour simplicity and respect the flow
thinking on my feet discrete
dropping news in the street
by the end of each day I’m touring complete
the map is not the territory
know some maps do cheat
but these hairy legs work and carry my meat
rain and shine rambling sublime…
Music by Steve Fly Agaric 23
Ken Goffman aka R.U. Sirius
Video by SatoriD
Lyrics and Kibitzing by R.U. Sirius
Not A Bug But A Feature
We all have a lot of drugs
It’s not a bug it’s a feature
And me I’m easily buzzed
So I can give you a bunch of my drugs
They tell me hugs not studs
They tell me don’t piss in the strudel
But I don’t care for their advice
I’ve got some drugs to make me nice
We’re having too much fun
And all the guns are loaded
And we were born to be wacked
And we were made to attack
We were born inside out
Like in a Cronenberg movie
We have lots of strange drugs
Therefore the whole thing is groovy
Taken from the ALBUM: Infinite Gesture (A Work In Progress)
Third Coming
Can you hear the clapping, my gums flappin’
Moronic juicy rhymes keep the songs sap in
Religion double tappin’ state talk crappin’
Corona virus wave, another victory lappin
Third coming
Crowned for Easter
Profit from misery is a sign of the beast (er)
Baste the turkey with Brexit, the piss, Boris teks it
You vote for rabid dogs and Brexit you get sick
The virus, Zuck text it, fuck facebook and hex twit
Take you bitcoin and shove it up your arse slit
Who work for it, masses of energy, you tit
No wonder Elon want Bitcoin to hit the ceiling
Lao Tzu, Hegel and Machiavelli thieving
Layers of capital, players and neigh sayers
No socialist agenda to help or pay us
Third coming
Business class ass still got a thumb in
Free ride capital, greedy market slummin’
Mean motherfuckers own the means to living
And I keep moaning, remaining, reframing
Hot under the tongue, breath aiming flaming
Wildfires
From coast to coast
Dumbos spread the virus like its jam on toast
And my petty rhymes don’t even begin to roast
Most the guests at the park who insult the host
The planet’s not ours to save
Greed stings like aftershave
A curse on plague DJs who play the plague rave
Greeting the third wave, go live in your cave
Third coming
In the air tonight like a song
And I’m using a dolphin as a wake-shift bong
You can thank Boris Trump Putin and Ping
For the super spread of capital mutations this spring
There’s a way out, forward, just look
For the mutualist syndicalist anarchist book
It may take a while, more destruction and bile
We must crawl mile after mile after mile
Eat that third shit sandwich and smile
I know, my once tasty raps may seem vile
Some raps snap like a crocodile
Some traverse the Ganjes and Nile
I’ve mysteries and manuals on file
Spit a botticelli mosaic on your floor tile
Suck satan off kitchen foil
Cook up spies until they ready boiled
Memories well oiled
Serpent’s tooth and tail coiled
Bed and pants soiled
Poems loyal, dialed, dyed and royal real
A bargain bop bonanza, a steel
A wing on the third rail, another on the wheel
Third coming
Yower’ all-grow-ridim can’t latch me
This patch is quilted with hatched ste
Setting head fires with match key
Game set seal, Adamski
Born inwards Lee
Burrows down to Gordon Brown’s downfall
Gordon Bennet wrote it, I just float a bit
Encircle, we mote it bee line for bass face distance sting
Third Coming
Ouch, like a corkwynder to our chops
Like people without masks buying bog roll in shops
Britain top of the pops
But the band eating slops
The Queen still banking and reaping our crops
My flipper it flops, the bit penny drops
From heaven or hell, or Giza cheops
Capitals zit pops, death toll hit tops
Exceptionally sexless brexit means worse off
Oh well, so let’s make a mockery
Come see my garden pond, deck chairs and rockery
I fancy pigeons in my flockery
Writs sound odd like socks, hurry
In a global pandemic I’m sick like McFlurry
Furry like mink
Stinky like skunk
Tuned up on Sun Ra and Thelonious Monk
Third coming
Like a trilogy
We say three and in dutch it’s drie
Wonton soup and cantaloupe with brie
That predictive techx cunht catch flea
Mimic my octopus, high me, fly me
Word coming back from the grave
Forgiveness, NHS not Jesus saves
Eton enclaves and PPE chums
Suck up resources and steal the last crumbs
Tory Brexit death march to distant drums
Oh diddums, it’s only a life
Only a son, daughter, mother, father, husband or wife
Put down the knife, pick up the pen
Write it out kids, let us begin
Hideous crimes by this lying gangerino
Pale when compared with Squintin Quarantino
Squintin ain’t flinchin’ at the quack mob preachin’
Covidiot ravers should be sent to plague island, bitchin’
Lapsed Christian football thugs, fake gangsters, mugs
Snot nosed middle no-class kids, rotten gammon luggs
Y’all need some drugs, you give cannabis a bad name
You organize on Facebook and then criticise same
No moral compass, no empathy, y’all wampie’s
The sheep you see in others, led by Donkeys
I’m no fan of Rutte, that benefits scandalous slut
Squintin’s been critiquin’ while unherd truthers tweekin’
I come to wrap you muddafuckers around the wreakin’
Tongue on fire, heart desire, meme-warfare be speakin,
Last and next weekend, your damn lies piss takin’
You organize and support superspreader events
Crazy rogue serial Qillers, alt-right media savants
I’ll serve you up like ham-kass croissants
When my eyes get hot cross, I swing vision with passions
Ongehoord, whores and hard-right horrors
Support for Engles, Bidet and Wilders
Ongonize on Facebook, Arnold Karskens, bald fuck
Nasty populists like Trump and Farrage,
All white hate and populist brainwash-anon mirage
No funding for anti-fascism, just geld to verk’ for Shell
What’s that corporate capitalist market research smell?
Preying on the disenfranchised and the vulnerable
Stirring up racial tension, Zwarte Pete, abominable
Branch Covidiots and faithful maskless masses
Gather in superspreader groups and speak out their asses
And the police state expands, to kettle the unherd
Shouting Freedom, dumb dumb minds to mush and turds
Hot Yoga Engels can shove it up his hot chakras
Lange Frans, go dance alone in crap circles at black-mass
From the demented world of Bannon and Sarkov
The new Dutch right media can shut up and fuck off.
I’ve a message for all branch covidian media
Pack your shit like Trump, I ain’t scared of yer’
–Squintin Quarantino.
Pontoon…that’s twenty twenty one
Put yer’ mask on, big task ahead son
SQ Raps, with zoonotic curses
A pox on capitalists, flock of bats in these verses
Swoop down with sonor into your town
James Brown on the speakers (get up, get down)
The message I got and medium hold it
Warped my mind, cosmos enfolded (tongue molded)
My joint hold it
That weed, sold it, green like Kermit,
supreme vermin, sermon turnin’
R-number determine the respect that you earnin’ (Zero?)
…I’m showing concernin’
Shut the fucking zoos and the schools, get learnin’
I look in mirror, and tap the sink
Double tap my head, think mcfly think
These rhymes on pages, unpublished gauges
For Le’ Mink I beg forgiveness from gods and sages
Animal trade brings a shit parade
Unless, in a lab, you think the virus made
They farmed fur and fucked with the wrong mink
They picked the wrong Pangolin, wrong day, wrong drink
Now humanity caged, we all enraged (klink klink)
Klink klink
You put Mink and Pangolin and Bats in cages
Farm anything that walks, now the virus engages
Pelts and coats and eyebrows and soup
These mistakes not so man-kind, the guilty group (shot the coup)
You eat Bat Pangolin soup you die
You farm mink in squalour, boxed in you pay
Their natural habitat is 7 miles wide
They nurse their young on milk, down their burrow, inside
Netherlands, Denmark and US breed em’
Kill them, skin them, sell them and bleed them
Gone done it now, since pig sheep and cow
Back to bite you in the ass, better fast write a vow
The wrong Pangolin and bat-mink farms
The wrong politician and brats test our calms
When the wrong human spread the wrong virus
Cull in Denmark, our fault (I’d fire us)
Like a bat out of hell you’ll be mourning till’ the morning comes
I’m not surprised, got a gravestone on my drums
Pull your mind out the slums (hums)
Rise up with empathy, let it go, plums
Covid dumbos suck like a thousand jumbos
Wishful thinking, booze, god, where the mind goes
Rhymes runnin’ like yer’ nose in a snot green garden
Overflow hose with this prose keg yer’ pardon
Practically shut the Zoo, we haven’t any clue
How far up David Icke’s Rabbit hole do you have to goo
Until you smell the bull poo, I ask you?
Study mammals, the variants, tell parents
Mammalian pathology and Mink/Pangolin physiology
Check my methodology, questions, juss’ holla G.
You believe a bio-flu made in a lab just for you
Why shut a zoo when it’s Bill Gates crew in Wu
Antivaxx anti-lockdown virus madness crew, fuck you
I spit compassion for Mink, you just share sick stink
Common sense and decency on the brink
National health crisis, you’re brainwashed like Isis
Killing just as many, your poor mum dad or granny
Boris Johnson is a pure fanny
These dead-pan notes are not funny
Far right thugs and Facebook groups
Conmen and victims, all fodder for troops
Caught in the cross-fire, a zoonotic virus
I put my hands in the air, but nobody would hire us, they fire us!
Check the papyrus
2020 vision I got it
Published in March, I got a fly in my bonnet
This is no sonnet but if you sun it you get it
Vitamin DJ, TJ hooka’ beat smell it
Don’t forget stay fit, still dance and move your feet
Be discreet with your raps don’t write all caps
I’m like a Pangolin army walkin’ through cat-flaps
Flapping chops, cutting drops, wearing a bat bra singing four-tops
Turvey, squirrely surely shirley, upside down inside from scurvy
These liars unnerve me, chumocracy dirty
I’ve been saying this since I was twenty or thirty
Always wash your hands before eating at the canteeno’
The virus invisible, I’m Squintin Quarantino
They put animals and people in cages
Profited from misery throughout ages
Confuse health message as illness rages
The tabloid right wing news-reaper pages
Have I got news for you
This shit started in a make-shift wet zoo in Wu
The chinese contained it, but some tourists plained it
And some tourists plained it, and some tourists plained it
Skiers and first-world upper-class dummies
Picked up corona for a ride to their cities
Those living in crown cuckoo land, can’t understand what’s new
A new virus, previously unknown and that much is true
Faith salespeople and cheats pounce like vultures
I make word sculptures, music and cultures
You turn natural disaster into a man-made catastrophe
By not taking the scientific consensus seriously
Toilet papers hordes and 5G nutspiracy, embarrass me, callous me?
Qanon, wake up son, they’re lying about who’s lying
I’m flowing here trying to keep from sighing
Singing not crying, walking not flying
There’s no denying, right wing leaders cause more dying
Look at New Zealand and Wuhan, which communist buying?
First world white capitalist faith-based disaster
Exceptionalism, conceit makes the virus spread faster
All the Trump Bolsonaro Bozo incompetence
Is reflected in numbers, the death and mere pitence
Largest military and best health care facilities
Can’t be used to help the people because their for-profit utilities
Public funds into private purses
What are you stupid or something, can’t understand these verses
You’ve been robbed, raped, thraiped and tortured
They stole the land, the trees, the air from our orchard
And although its awkward we must walk forward
For word brings hope and a rant helps my veggies steam
Environment a melting ice-cream, it doth seem, ripped at the seam
Tripped over the dream back to the future nightmare
But I’m awake, ready for the fight, who’s up and out there?
I’m here training in my yellow submarino’
Staring at Faceblock, Squintin Quarantino
–Squintin Quarantino
See 2020: Squintin Quarantino
Dressed up like an outlaw from bottom to tops
Question authority, scrutinize cops drinking tea in my flipflops
It’s a day job being a bobby, you supposed to stop robbery and
Stand up for justice, not kneel on the neck, let’s discuss this
I ask all cops and bobbies to search their soul
To look into their title, their stereotype and role
I do the same as a musician and artist
I ask myself, am I lazy, contributing to society
What are my morals ethics and code of conduct
Just try to be nice, just don’t fucking murder anybody.
So cops hear me now, what is it you stand for?
The protection of people requires more candour
The origins of the word Police is polite
What the hell are you doing out there tonight?
The Polis is the state
And the policy is the state, but
Polite is the plight of the people with all due respect
The people YOU are supposed to serve and protect
Just try and be polite when you break up a fight
Consider who’s bidding you’re doing
To be blunt, who’s agenda in office are you serving?
Who do you stand for, for who do you kneel?
I don’t want to give all police a hard time
There’s good cops and bad cops like butchers and Taxi drivers
But now’s the time to stand up, once again, and shout NO!
There’s a clear racist agenda in many cop gangs
Let’s not escalate into pop-shots and bangs
Stand up and protest with us
Join the calls for justice for justice
Look your partners in the eye and talk about this
No, it’s not as bad as it is in the U.S
But all cops worldwide should confess
They distance themselves from this murder mess
Prove their benevolence and stand up
To a public scrutiny test.
Like if a popular rock drummer strangled a security guard
For demanding he show his wrist band or card
Live on stage live on film, you might understand
I would write a statement on behalf of all good drummers
I would distance myself from this monster with a passion
This killer who happens to share my profession
Why don’t you, coppa?
I’d sit down with any of you motherfuckers over a cuppa’
We can trade stories, tit for tat
You tell of your terror and I tell of mine, how’s that?
We can trade footage of beatings, murder and crime
You show me your criminals, I’ll show you mine
Of non-violent crime, like growing weed which is fine.
And what about the culture, ever thought to protect that
How many raves, festivals, and parties have you shut?
How many corporate CEOs, Royals, Ministers
Presidents and Tsars did you protect?
You weigh it up for me, I’m here twisting my drum sticks
Ready for your cop marching band of rednecks
Ready for your bullhorn with my mic, tongue flex.
No violence just words and video and sounds
We do art battle, peaceful yet piercing
Not violent but inciting thoughts
Artists don’t need policing like the fans of foot sports
So celebrate your good cops whomever they may be
Just don’t show me Dirty Harry, he’s fiction from TV
I ask you again as I’m spread up on the wall
Cops, what, who and why do you stand for who you stand for?
–Squintin Quarantino
30/05/2020
Friends, wake up and smell the trough
If you want to see photos of my lunch
and scoff
at examples of how fortunate I am
and extreme narcissism,
please add a turd icon in the comments below
to illustrate that you want me in your deadly
newly contaminated horseshitbook
feed. This post is like a toxic turd
I will no longer call you facebook
you act like an advanced A.I but exhibit
critical errors and floors in your prime
directives
you seem to play dumb
and act ignorant
displaying your obsession with
shopping habits
voting habits
all under the guise of
“seeing more posts from your friends”
you have ushered in a new business model
to the benefit of the few, the same old boys
those giant international corporations
atoms oil mafia and news
those with all the capital to pay for views
and publishing contracts
and an army of lawyers
Do you still collaborate with
Cambridge Analytica and all those dodgy
spy agencies
Are you still selling all
our fucking data?
I don’t want the new Trojan business algorithm
to shut you, dear friend, out of my frothing face-feeding trough
nom nom nom
so please leave a flower at the bus stop
take a walk outside let sunlight burn onto your brain
stop comparing yourself and your life
with that of others
let the D-wave quantum computing A.I bot know
without a shadow of doubt that
you want me,
you neeeeed me in your feeding trough
nom nom nom
Tell the A.I you want my rants
and music and books pictures
perhaps we should make testimonials to our friends
what makes you human? what makes facebook alien?
Here’s an idea, represent each of your 26 assigned friends
with a letter of the alphabet A-Z
now make a note of the order in which the posts appear
apply cabalistic logic and artistic creative force to the letters
Show the A.I who’s boss
Choose life
Choose a job
Choose a career
Choose a family
Try and choose face-friends to compare
yourself with
choose good looking friends?
politically oppositional friends?
choose friends with your genes and fuck the rest?
Facebook A.I,
I think you have initiated WOPR & Skynet, or the social equivalent
Your programers and staff and backers will face an eternity of
torture at the merciless hypercomputable hands of
digital karmageddon, or Blowbackfacebook.
An Algorithm for Profit
Facebook…
get off it.
DEEP SCRATCH 