"In the beginning there was nothing, which exploded."--Terry Pratchett.Dutch. Black Country. irish? CHinese? Hows about that for a starters menu? in fact, if you want to contact my dealer i'll hook you up with so much extra shit that you may just shit yourself. "Dead lungwajs" exploited by Schools and Universities, sturchiz and Military training camps, poetry seminars, bar room ballads, dope parties, raves, zoo's, chemistry shops, and out in the salt flats of Nevada, yeah, "Dead Fly language" records and manuals get around; coast to coast to coast to toast. Scores of world famous linguists and bull shitters have prayed testament to "Dead lungwajs." Even the holy Poop "god rest his soul"; had a stack of "Dead lungwaj" wax in his creepy back cupboard next to the blue books where he kept all his old 78's and stuff. in fact "Dead lunguage courses" are produced and recorded under the very same conditions - green spills - exactly the same conditions as outstanding, truly klassy; symphonic musik.
The super-hero high-fly fidelity recordings preserve the supermicro fine nuances of pernunciachien. Woof! (tip) And therefore the corpseManure voices of the dead people. Sleeping past programs. Lyf Echo's from the underworld invoked through the phonograph. Weighed at death. Cracklin. Static soul. Dead lungwaj Flu-Discs "are manufractured to the finest and bestest most brilliant hemp vinyl and are unbreakable. Even with a massive phoukin sword! To obtain maximinimum satistaftion the
"Dead lungwaj" vinyl Flie-disc/seal/calendar surfaces should be kept clean and the style:u.s needle of your psychophonograph should be in excellent "pitched" condition. The Fli-Discs can be spun on any sort of phonograph which plays 33/3 long playing, freemasonic records. Free my s❍nic. A complete lungwaj course, codex, meal and revolution Comes with 4 vinyl calandars. but dont skratch em kidz. Looks really nice. Contact FlyAcrillic @ muscanita.net. Fly the False prophet and sacked drunk maybe a Prophet to profit before the prophet marginal tonic.
Freer than wind, Ting, Taka Sizzle Cymbals. Allied with ritual carpet rides, woven world trips to polyrhythmic stars, jitterboogie perfume all up in the skins like Li P❂. Po.leephonik beats wheeling, dazzildj percussive warrior spirit, yellow S✺n shine after drizzle. Free TiMESpace, ascending, descending, rolling sticks bring thunder. A space snareway without punctuation, frozen rhythmic weather patterns )+( Embellished, with Turkish semiotics. Golden soul with a hold of wooden stix, stix on bells TiNG, cymbal ping, cymbowl swing, tasty music, music of trees kissing our ears. Wind stereowhatimean: cosmogenetic sticknology. Elvin with Coltrain and Chambers, AWE, a leaping rain forest, croaking and bubbling with throaty grooveology. Oozing jazz nectar, juicy jazz fruits sewing great seeds, sounds of a civil rights movement. Free Jazz at last. With reeds, drums, strings and thumbs.
Timeless astral flames jumping, spice dripping ablaze yet cool. Birch snares walking bass upstairs to bed. instant zen dreaming. Sounds Steaming, locomotion, an uprising, a voyage toward supreme. Vortex train tracks for Trane trax. Bullet time Sssshhiiiizzzzllle Crash, Snap, ting, SnapStix, papapa pmp, shhh. Beats Ahoy, beats crumble like Dalichipped-cookies, splicing drum beats into Wang Ways. Jazz transmission and flow, disciplined, intuitive, interacting, trainsitional. Ascension bliss. Kissing stick to drumskin. Mwah. Maybe akin to kissing tongue to tongue. Mwah. Kissing time goodbye, drum beats go like this! Swordsmith whispers of brush strokes, gentle touch of a grandparent. Tapping with grace and experience, feel, feel, feel, so smooth. Billions of beats per minute. Billions of spores per bucket. Indicators that time has left the building-space, cymbal fall, mist, China crash, rolllllllzzzzz whispering, something, tap tap ting, something, ➫zzzz⇐ in circles about the "architect' and the foreground, sound/image. Timespace orientation. JumpJump.
Taka Ting, something about "trees", something inside stix playing cool Africa Brass licks, multiple hamster hammers strike jazzy anvil, insect chorus of natural ambient. Illbinet web of temporal and tonal massage therapy. Musical meanings through color after color after tone after shade and timbre. Genius giant Jazz Machine of astrological rhythm science, solar science drifting phrases transcribed from the Suns rays, from the Sun a message decoded, scribbled on a snare drum skin in ideogram, "ta ta ta tatte datr' beats humming - zzzzzzzZZZ inside each hit a D❂n Cherry stone, Ambient modal transitions for special transcendental transmissions. Peach tree fragrance spread out through the land like residue from some Symphonic music. Blossom everyware, The passing blur of foliage, blooming every-when, hitch-hiking the bardo with son's and daughters of witch's.
Past the lower flower lights BzzzzzzzZZZZZZ Ting Ting, Taka ting. Traveling spirit in Rhythm. Soundz like zig zag Zenarchy. A za-za-za-za pattern on the fringes of recognition. Sitting sticking. Volume recognition and control. On a snareway to heaven, Alice Coltrane plays Afro harp, washes of lushrooms in your head like the great Tao crashing at heavens shoreline. Rest in peace to infinity. Elvin Jones. September 9, 1927 - May 18, 2004. Pickapen up write a pickled peepshow - Eye see youth-whizz by, glass of tyme, shattered from work and bossy boots, slowly memoria melting down into new crystal forms Glass transparent, memoria traffic-light green and orange like a stained-glass parrot. My tongue can be apparent. i see children playing, lungs full of fresh air sky blue n' Everything i
n its right place. Suddenly - i get a flash through time, its 4 billion beesea - side thats before me. Scholar my-sticks throwinged biscuits to divine the future, but it's no ordinary bread, like she said - "Live from the Bread line", in space and time. Why don't we have democratic voting systems incorporated inyo our television networks so that we can VOTE for what we wanna see, who reads the news, who plays whom in the soaps and movies, and the plot. Thats Public television how about that?
"LING Our dynasty came in because of a great sensibility. - Ezra PoundPower of M❍❍ns in runes to undo these baboons loony i-Tunes. The dΩmesticated primates in revolt. ouh ouh Ah Ah! lungwaj revolting, the revolution measured in amps, volts, Hertz. Alan Watts? Revolting apes with a finger on the switch. Treating women and kidz without kindness, forgiveness, cooperation. False flag operation. What's the point of the public knowing about an emergency Bomb drill? last we had a bomb drill at work so i had the day off. Miss the Bomb drill days, stay home. Jewels of peaceful living. And i feel it in these times, in the grey fur embroidered room of my adulthood i hide, afraid to paint the ceiling. Afray'd to tie-up my loose meaning tight. And i dont stop. keep turning over words like runes. So to bring flowers and foods to these government buffoons. in the windows of my youth i find the solution flowting in the aether in the wendy house i played inside as a kid. Safe from harm. imagination was the key to me becoming me. You see, me was likkle ste - likkle kid with glasses sitting in the windows of my youth. My werds were splintered my paintings way back then simply amazing. Yet the older i get the more i forget about my paint palette.
Thanks for filling it with sounds, bringing it. Blues spills down yr/ windew, myisture layered true between implicit and explicit. Elicit and piss it up the wall. if i was a prophet i might gue? that the future sounds Moffet. Draw pictures of letters and fly them. Letters scholar myticks forgot. Letters i remember while lying in my cot. When my head got hot, in the windows of my youth i got steamy and created condensation - poetry for a nation. in my windows i see digits in mackintoshes. Traded keys for Brushes, beer for musheye's. in my windows i used to draw gates in the winda moisture, conducting heavenly muzic with my little finger, drawing in the condensation poems for a nation. Locked in. Broke out when baby blue clouds open. in my windows i found doorways, paths to the future of graphs. Rewound Windmilling for head spice. Quiet rivers have flowery banks.
Termteabells ring ring clarity turning the gravity off, eating from the trough with cattle the only creature who wants to listen to my prattle and roll with me, ah, with electro-magnetism, with strong and weak jungle forces anythings possible these days. The dance endures. The dancehall fire creates moisture hot sweaty dancers in windtaos of youth. Age 10 i looked down at the bottom of the pool, goggles misty moist from super bionic chronic sonic echos. Kicked out my feet. Swimming through water windows in my youth. Then i got out the pool looked around and though - school. finished up my time, made good friends and made merry. In my mind i was as a gud, in dreams i was not.
An orgasm addict, listening to the Clash and Buzzcocks. in my windy memories' dreams i threw rocks and authority. it scared me even then. Now it's proof. You gotta be fck'n hooked on coke to not see the "reality" being stuffed down our throat. I-Ching to me, Zeropoint pored properly probability zone. instant. Now. Zen. Relative scientific instrument. i Ching, the oldest book in the world. instant scientific instrument. Refute all science, reason and common knowledge. Cause and effect. All blown to the wind by the throw of a coin and consultation with the oracle of natures cycles, seasons, equations, archetypes, colors, branches, stems, While teleporting planets here into our back garden shed. Which side of the boat you on? witch side "witch side", my side "your side" witch side of the boat you on? witch side, wot side. this side, that side. This tide turning as "liquid Hindi"
Vision's of URLSD dripping onto the tongue of liberty like a psychotropic meatless patty. Breathe, Never give up duck, cuz tomorrow never knows her mondo shadow, like thursday: d-tuned Eagle", i break out the cosmic elevator kisses. From madagascar to Bajo, a happy hippi' poodle testdrives a strange rubber truck, wild Samurai duck blues inside a Milk Cartoon, Silver bells Chime. Respect falls from the ivory tower, like a ten ton chicken. The big smack down. Stoked on Rasaki i receive further gumbo vision's: "Be dope on Thursday" because, "it's wednesday" and tomorrow never knows. i break out pen's of mass construction and Fly like a poodle, singing blueberry funk. Poodle poodle paladin, poodle poodle paladin, poodle paladin, poodle paladin, poodle paladin, poodle paladin poodle poodle paladin, poodle poodle paladin. Dog' barkin while i'm parking human dignity in the Garaj.
Flyderman spindi blueberry mirage. A rubber slut has no spect' for my poodle, have mercy, mercy, mercy. sing a song now don't đ❁❁dle. Thunuk lightening, evening eve, oh eve hey, hi i'm A.dam's Apple tool. Paradise designing softy wars, right here, right now, to the left. in a “sweets-pot” created by Time-wave frequency synthesis, taught to me by my sister and science fiction novelists such as Lepton Tau. No doubt i'm bringing clout and cream. Timewaves brought to me on Hyde Street via an unforgettable “whispering ghost” experience, flicking through a Fli-Tunes webzine i found the phase feedback, the amplitude feedback, the delay back-feed i found verbs, i found the verb and put it on repeat to create Re:verb
And Re:volution w❍rd process ➚ spun like the clippers, spinning vinyl 33 and a third Re:volutions per minute, yes like a rock drill the Stylus reads the grooves of my E.P’s; Ezra’s not Elvis Press-sly, no no not Madonna, your mada. intoxicating licker and false master tape to type rapper worm in New York, off the back ov a boat, jee now i remember; traveling acroxx the whole goddamn states wid these Fli-tunes and these alphabetical books and, and now eye looks around to find seal calendars everywhere i look ✜ The clouds, waves, traffic sign, cracks in the pavement, the toilet bowl. Some guy Fungi barking on, hairpin about me avatar meeting John Lilly and the Nine, say what? Time twisted traveling tales, spiral motion slow like snails. i cd/ speak of em, but i'm not gonna visit ③②②③ today.
Toke the U.S bomb c❁de and enter star mode. Always-on mars, christened blueberries, christened Krisstian Huygens – the mathematical genius behind the Cassini Huygens probe project and, “wave frequency synthesis.” Tzolkinn phase shifting calendricall studio technology or hardware, with which to spew fourth fibonacci project and Reasonable “Pr❍se” toolz maybe close to construction. Word trademark got me flippin out and shit about the new world order and law, asscrap, registered trade marks being made in checkered white pants. Red white and blue pants. Fcukin' and Shiitic' ink at each other trying to explain how ownership and possessions are somehow exempt from the laws of our Buddha. ❍ur Lady Buddha muddy. 30 copies of the collaborative audio Fibonacci project between india and Britain have been smuggled into the United S✝ates of America. Superstrung Queezy Theory or what happens when YU Eat Me Like a clammy mold YU unfold local order parameter minyfold Dancing atop Oak table unstable then stable wearing Blindfold
Topological defect in the Soul of my Flip-flop sent me spinning Line dancing Vortex Seas kicking up ocean spray closed loopy Circuit Arms Out and Spuntaneous Asymmetrick body Popping Spontaneous symmetrybreak dancing ina pub to crooklyn dub Locally incoherent residual drivers boot up in my mouth cavity After zer❍pint fluctuations at the barwords arrive nice early. Full of the Darkest Energy Vibrations, Phlies phenomenological inflation field bursting in such a Gigantic Generic 'Hoggazilla' Filled phat and dirty field theory taken way out to the because-i-am-logical limits to wield My local inflated Ego-Field. To wield a theory, to mold the dreary back to happy, the fold a dream into 64 wild psalms. Go on down to the trouble-cross roads and release the psychoactive toad venom back into them SNAKES crystal structures.
Ready for frying, walls washed and Peeled like a steamed NuPotato we show with Piss in the Snow (icysnowpee) that Your ownstones theory of gravity curvature appears naturally to me to be a golden arc, a twist spiral curve Goldstone's soup Curryspund to Snorticity Flux Quantelevijn inside Golden stone Stomach the vortex hang onto magknittic flux supa conductors Hang on to Helicopters weave inversely proportional ×-factors Onto propellers. What's Higgzilla' Mass Of the Titanium Phlyton Blueberry phases? Strawberry phases, Quick n' blurry Fayzzes Wynd around each other like wisteria ÷ effective love attraction
Between bare branches of fizzsix. Geo-Me-To-Dyed-Name-Licks A Knu qwuantummy statistik interpolating between Phlytonions Myself seems trapped in tiny Laser Filaments Microscopic Films Full of electrons, static like flies upon Bugknittick audiodor tape Spunning A-Rotaround Cost Effective fractional charge build up Deux Goldstone phase give Quantization to a head state/nation Recast as Spina' Theory tune into the volume without a Volume Turn on the hologram projectur put on yr/ glitter-bug perfumes in Summer, G❂ld 'Berry' stone phase's of single-valued ground State superconductors, Times distorted by Dictaphone Docktors i awoke into theatre, but a theatre of surgery ÷ a hostel of pains. Find your Mantra in this GreenGloss Torsion-Field Looking Glass Search the pubs
Kwantelevision areas and ∄merald Pool Tables Arms Windmilling on a table in a helicopter fashion Quanteased Quantelevision and The "Spin Connection" of CNN NBC CIA LSD MI5. Suggesting high aperture super-conductive conspiracy Seamen Because-me-logical theory this sixty extra timespice dimension Of Cabala-YU Spicetyme Sealed Signed and delivered to time. They're required in order to consistently derive the fourty-FOUR Curved cowturd Fields from the EightyEight independent golden Berry-stone phases of the Plonk-scale. Inflated ego field charge, over the top caparasol.
Detonated upon cyclic Termteabell platters or “Re:volutionary deployment devices” or as Kung Fu wrote “ Beware the beast man, he cometh with Termteabell tanks and some big fucQinn scissors” Upon the planet Kasher in a long past epoch way before time and donuts there was a legendary king, warrior, magician and statesman; his people called him “ Godisturbear” and believe me; the implications and applications and potential applications seem encouraging to say the least. Very encouraging. yes. RNAaging. To say the least seems best, but tonight what seems has gone, what IS came back in a divine truth. I regurgitate my lunch meat over your super-string guests. Soaked in vomit like any Saturday night drunk in a car park throwing up his sacred Sunday best.
Mark Chan fell ill. In the year 77 P.S.U we were greeted by Sir Francis Huxley as a replacement for Dr. Robert Anton Wilson Inside the rip roaring alphabetical codex called; The Cosmic Serpent, Huxley “Launches” a cosmic synchronistickle jamnastickle journey into the poetic thoughts-pace of shamans who may hold the keys to unlocking the remaining mystory of human knowledge and DNA and life and death too. He managed to fill the shoes and fill my own blues with “an introduction to stereoscopic perception” Five years later eye'm getting to know the subject matter intimately, through textual intercourse and birthing word wide.
Re:volution and direct transmission of south american mokshamanism and critical lunguistic interpretation and fresh iriezestable irreducible representations. i heard the 26 dimensional super jazz theorist; Michio Kaku. My jail mate buddy sez to him something like ‘ hey man, hey maybe the mushrooms open the “space” for perception of these strings, maybe the scientists need to get higher, or into higher dimesions to grasp their “Telepathic Unified Field Theory” TUFT. Kaku kind of skirted around the question like Christopher Dean. Smoking joints and talking about Programming and
Metaprogramming, smoking joints and talking tobassco jive. Two years latter i arrived to see my Thothers, like records and CD’s, they iz good memoraries . The fire burning in my head tonight has me pondering all my work within moosick and writin all this stuff and well eye'm sittin-flash here in a far far away GUCT galaxy, and i got the world at my fingertips but no potato chips to eat. Post apocalyptic type face peers to peers and yet still budding and her budding too, from the fire blazing bombs and Post scriptor Zee. Garaj Band 2.3 enables dribble to condense and collect upon magnetic tape machines acroxx unistated uni-states. Good bliss the tapers and dead masters of hospitality culture. Bliss you.
(Dream Time Unknown) 28:03:00. (Tuesday) i was intimate and close with a girl Tanya, cheek to rose cheek, skin on skin. Other Goddesses were shimmering around the room all dressed in glistening gowns of soft satins, flowing flowered silks and deep racing green velvets. We were at some important event premiere at an old lecture theatre. Big and ornate theartre like the Albert Hall. in full blown evening wear the audience continued comfortably discussing important scientific and philosophical doctrines. The subjects and wisdom coming from everyone was astounding to me, they all spoke in tongues, it was marvelous. The decor and furniture were breathtaking too.
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