"Don't fight forces, use them." --R. Buckminster Fuller.To End wars start Gnu meditation, feed troops with good stew. Turn gun barrels into flower spouts and shoot your perfume up to the m❍❍n. Morph mortar into poodung pellets and help more flowers grow, you know. More fungus. More Lichen. More exotic speaking among us. Put Coltrane on Television. 19:11:00. Turn your war to the canvass, the medium, a page wall, airforce, style, state. The air, blow it out your assets. As an air biscuit if you still must fight alright! Fighting for peace seems like fisting for Virginity. End wars, bend wars, transcend wars by converting them into white phosphorus poems. Blow up your art, kill your protagonist and take over your gallery space with assault riffles. Set the public free. End wars, bend war's, stop for a bite and some tea. Join me, end the one's which blind and burn and mutilate and really really hurt the human body and mind on man and womenkind. End wars and start parties, kiss cuteas and shake booties, pull down panties and lick and suck for Peace. Build your peace zone, claim the earth space-time temporarily.
Reclaim! Be Merry. Be Mime. Skin harmony with change to spare, re-claim the process process and be ZENarchy type of graph temporality. Don't fight gravity, love levity. Drink mean tea and scoff my muffins. Turn tanks into Termteabells, secret plans into fictional fables. To ∄nd wars declare peace, its over its over again, its all over the place. ∄nd the pain and spend a thought for those poor slain in memory of the lame and sick involved in the thick of it. ∄nd wars by showing that to Kill maybe to loose, You carry that bruise with you, murder is known for eating your brain. Murder seems psychically self defeating, eating the killer, like a Hannibal Lector treat. End wars end by becoming a benefactor of change, a GNU beginning. Again. End wars. The ∄nd.
Juxtaposition without copula. Who wants to be a chinese written character in the end? i Work at the zoo on the planet tralfalmadore where various iconic specimens live inside glass cages waiting for readers to mix the unmixed spectacle with ticked imagination, engage in dreams of being a Chinese written character.
Shaped to mimic natural forms. Spilled forth frothing rabid inside circle of fifths, around about the brick Bridge, through nine looks and around the chainmakers ring road, a neverending story baggins in the middle muggle Westmiddleends amid the Golden Apple Bluetooth fairy ring of fire breathing green salamander gas, raised in dung over aeons. neighbor to Herrafrodo and Worcester. OrgΩne became resurrected, bound within the pages of supernatures magazine. 1958. God this turban. Agacider drunkenpuss purrin' down the sour piss chute. Knee deep in memories. Wading for where the government blows. Deep in stamfordwoods with the diddy squad deep down in the woods at the rope-swing, smokin' fags, drinkin cider acroxx the River we swung, River rats, satanists, boggeymon. Out from behind the tree. Air rushing up my nostrils. Up cavernous pipes and drains we played, right where the housing estate croxxed into motherbramblebrook. Down the cut where i wd Mooney the girls and they'd Moon ey back.
Boyhood droops down from my mouth to my ankles. Red carpet unravels from my gob, have ya come up yet? dow in the sweaty grey underground basement beat scene. beats scene. Puzzled walls of hammerite grey mix sound of Archie Shepp and Mingus, minggling in the coffeegrinds. Stippled moosick crimpled broken ambient mornings after Ecstacy, iz this doin yr head in? Waterfall road to the vine exchange, looks as bluack paint dripping The Birch tree where i used to hang out with a coke and a packet of walkers. Suck Coke! The harvester bell and the swan and the pinns, all pubs clubs toffee soft in my memory.
The Toad voodoo juice, smoke and drink and shoot pool under me guinness eyes. How can today be compared to yesterday? Dark chocolate evenings in a brownstone autumn wonderland. Again i slip back through time, Rolling thunder from heaven Echos Loud through the Bluack mountains, echoed roun Clent hills like a whole county chanting, Wind fanning fire, singing flames chase wood around the forest lungscoops, catcha fire in the head, unwinding a S✴ns love for his mother and Thother and sister and self.
Unwound spring loaded pitch forks ploughing the stuffed clouds then streaking electric purple legs stretch forth, rain water ronnin down her side. My mountain eyes trickle down into lake pl:acid, drowned underneath the shadow of the silent majorities. Sun fire pleasure mountain bluack razzle dazzle flashing forks, one legged thunder enlighening, more fire from her lake. Congealled misty clouds atop misty mountain hats, moisture conducting heavens symphony; electro shock thunder enlighening. Allegro winds wood give sway to spaceship earth, catching the clouds in hemp sails, spring has come to lyf, moving her across a googgly sea; through rain and more thunder, lake placid. Still waters as photograph. Blue green eyes in the water, saltless tears still taste bitter trying to remember. Mountains shadow cast Re:Sun rays caught and reeled in from the wooden memory masts, fire in the heed. Line-ear with a nun-linnen-ear substincture, Fly's wing glistens and does not glisten. Worshiper of chllorophyll, catkins and rolling skins with forests inside.
111 ravens flying overhead, 72 hare's running ahead and 24 hound-dogs at my side, the gills in my neck and a sack of sacred herbs around my waist, a copy of FW in my wallet and a tongue of crystal glass. I come to the Mary Hill Barracks center to sing for the trees' and re-ignite the ancient dialogue between Merry poets at the Merry hill games. With a crown of thorns, Ash, elder berry, Beach, Oak, Willow, Silver Birch, Rowan Berry, and a thousand and one yokes. Sacred Rites of Marriage at Merry Hill between Mary Magdalene and Robin Red-Hood. Go figure and go figure it good.
Be merry now. Oak and Thunder God. Red and white with sacred toads and many odes to Old Annamary-jane The secret of the new name, Dog, Roebuck and Lapwing, protected, guarded from any Secret Corporation of Merry retail rapscallions strike the alphabet with a pitch fork, Thunder Maid Mary Hill and the Mad Dogs of Hell bark. Mary Hill, Upper-class hooker, my true love Light pouring toward Sinceritas. fly agaric boiled in a pot and eaten by titans i'll crack thy bones in our lady's name from inside. The Dogs of Merry Hell. who'll hunt the wren" cries Robin Bobbin Hod. 111 santa clauses to each Christmess sentence.
If the hunter comes back with mushrooms, don't ask him how his hunt was. Meryy Christmass 7 days a week, 360 days a year. mayday is merrier mayday play! Mad merry riddle. If there is noroom upon the hill. Millenium point., Ivory Towers 'Merry Mad Maud." Maid "maud" Marian, Mary Magdalene painted Blue by Merry Pranksters. Mary Mary quite Contrary to you. Mary Gipsy the May bride, a may tree cult, may bee cult! MBC Robin the large singing flamingo red breasted Robin Hood, Calling "Powit Poweet Poweet" echoing through ASDA, Sainsbury Plains, Tesco and Morrisons of a Mary Merry Cult of craftswomen and men, Dancing through trouble doors these troubadours sing "
Mad Merry Mary, the most poorly recorded, yet ill-reputed Of the disciples of Robin Hod Maid Marian and her Merry Mary cult. Maud Marian the market lady of Misrule, Who went over to the dark side with the evil sherif Deserting Robin for his rival. Selling out to the big Merry Corporate Gangsters and the evil Merry Sherif. Mary Merry Mad Maude paired off with Merddin (MERLIN) to become christianized as a male Robin Hood. Merry Mary England, engrossed with MARY worship. Mary Hill a kind of corporate Mary Hell, a place where aggressive corporate dogs pull your mind apart, Displaying jewels, drugs and every kind of classic consumer product All the most popular brands, the biggest most slick corporate brands. May Day, May Day. Merry Hill means an unholy marriage between corporate dogs, A roebuck and a Church carriage. I as Lapwing singing down the walls The dogs of Merry Hell, pulling Santa's Merry sleigh all the way to Merry bank by the Merry Law Courts. A Merry meat market of young Virgin Mary's made up to maybe meet A Joseph and have a little baby Jesus together Soon to become another Merry child sitting Santa's Lap everyday, all day. The comodification of the old market festival and the old merry pagan rites revived here in a queer tale over a brew.
..the alphabet vs. the equation....? ...language as Class Warfare...?Reverse levers to pull and push the sun earth far words. Talebearing talk, “prattle tattle for the Tim Bing!” Tackle for the tie. Draw. Time for the Tea.” Brewing Ay’ arf’ of the ale. Elixir tea brewed from grey nail. Flyscribble a tale to inscribe the amount of TOTT rhyme you plot? a stale tang of the tea pot up your snooze, vapor-trails from ye’ ole fairy ale blues. The Great GOO’s! Sling a Lizards tail into the JUG with all the thyme you can muster up from the honey-verse. And don’t believe the tales you smear about that ale. Take a slug of the grog of the group. 9.mm beaker glasswill of the scribe.
Tribeena Elixir admixture: the scribe of the ale and the ale of the scribe to raise he up happy and so rosy. A merry ferry bridge for my own merry fair. Robin Hood as i fly agaric fights wars with alphabets. And Merry Hill houses more sponsors of the Bush Blair agenda than any other multiplex in some sense. In the sense that the Sordid combination of Television and other pro-consumer capitalist telecommunications based at the Merry Hill project just happen to have some if not all of the products advertised to virally. Targeting the young and vulnerable. Coercing the weak and ill. Fast food, fast closed circuit CCTV monitors. Like Merry Spies up hidden in the sherwood trees looking down at the Merry shoppers Making sure nobody can ever Recreate the forgotten real Mary rites at Mad Merry Hill. Until nearly 16 years ago when i a child of 16 years young, Triggered the beginning of this reclamation of Merry Hill and the Merry rites of Passage into adulthood, i ingested about 3 grams of psilocybin mushrooms and walked through the Merry Hill Project, chanting incantations and sacred hyms to Mary As i tripped. The resonance from this awakening experience, the opening up of my mind to poetic myths Music, rapping, laughter and celebration or getting high has reached through my life since 1992. Here i am in Amsterdam with a copy of Robert Graves White Goddess and a joint, Ready to anoint Merry Hill with some forgotten history in a way it will not forget.
The Rivers and industry meet, Shopping trollies litter River banks, Banks litter the shopping street. Quiet rivers have flowery banks. Where do you bank the River bank? Order? Cash FLOW. €conomic$ LINES THROUGH IT ALL. And lies. And nature forever bound to lies and untruth. As long as the word-symbol lies. Rivers of industry run orange, blocked by trollies traffic cones and "believe" bars. Trickle down theory turned to treacle brown theory. Planet earth waterwildworld. Many die without clean drinking water. Many die, many killed. Sombunal reborn. Cherish your Rivers, be thankful for your clean water. To Wash away flaky skin and Usury. For renewal and updating flow of Mindustry. Love your bodies of water, as you love your body. Mind the wake, cleanse Nowhares Yacht.
River Arun, Orwell, Avon and Seven. Thames, Mississippi, Tigris, Nile. Rocks old as great great great clocks. Before time She was running nutrition and foodstuffs to us Apes For god sakes. She transported, fructified and washed our tiny machines. Now she's the machine in the steel eye of industry. Her future so bright, so toxic and SO Orange. She runs through your brain, a hydrophobic-ally caged single Electron q-bit. The smallest indivisible unit in language or physics. Clean drinking water appears only bottled. in these times of raging Global fires our Rivers weep, she tells meimposition of order = Escalation of Chaos. Up through the earth, right through the earth from an underground spring she rises unbounded by gravity, clear elixir of life soaking headwater cloaking the rocks sparkling curves of a siren sister, fresh water wyf running back home on a River of laughtears saltless but brought on by seasonal epiphany i join your groove, carving plans over earth years how can this freshness be bought by our money flowing global networks from undervalue to currentsea understand the embankment and investing in renewal rejuvenation of the sacred springs life expectancy preservation of the goddess and of her drewel she's mainly concerned with herself
Swimmers are all surely concerned with the environment, shine not winning 28th jan 06. poverty of imaginashvilleham. Went seeking more family in America and found the luminaught-tearooms at burningham now i'm back i think, back in the woidlye looking for a job. Looking no furthur than Netherlands. And a party after. Soup flie, blackcuntry. Shower i cook up some bacon butties Cup of tea and then i write, read and make music. Thats it for me. i Talk to the dead pig in the sandwhich: Pigasus for Prez of Swineland 68-69 & 08-09? Pigs in Space, pigs in time; in the Chinese year of the pig in 2007' i'll put my pen to the Tusk of taking all pigs to heaven. Napoleon & Old major pigs, Ministry of Pig: 1984! Porky Pigs limbs litter the swine factory floor, Pig as profanity! Pigs as the Police authority, Pig Brother. Animals used as insulting metaphors for humans but Machines, Poisons and sleeping robots rule us? Ass drunk and/or stubborn as a mule like Pigasus parroting the whole dirty Bay of Swine thing, War pigs crawling Begging mercy for their sins - sang Sabbath, But the four legged HOG that the word PiG refers to seems iNNOCENT of all crimes, those leagilly piggily crimes! Just a bristly pink critter! There seems an intricate Telepathic Conspiracy afoot against the animal kingdom.
Choking the Plant Kingdom and supernature, from a human-plants point of view. Orchestrated by humans or machine/Robot/poisoned humans. V' for Vegetable Vendetta. Other than rolling in mud, eating shit and sometimes their own litter (Which makes an illuminating metaphor for modern Arms factory economic practice, invented by Humans), Pigs seem peaceful and intelligent to me, they don't make Nukes, deploy troops or go to Church. The Hippopota-muses lament for their HOG kind Treated like Swine, the pig has become the Animal word used in Western Civilization that reflects the characteristics Of Authority, Uncleanliness, consumerism and greed. Greedy PiG! A poet in solidarity with the lush Miss Piggy, Hogzilla Napoleon, Old Major and pigsy, Wilbur, Professor Strangepork, Picasso, Pigasus and Porky - i hereby swear to clear these Swine of their stereotypical image quickly and their Stereotypical place in human history and knotted Language as Stupid dumb and dirty cheap fodder; useful at Christmas timespace with a little gravy tea to dip my TOE into. Dirty grunting Ugly pigs until Served up With a little Sauce. The pigs will have the last grunt as the year of the pig makes its course. Bakin' under the sun.
What is very little understood about the electronic age is that it angelizes man, disembodies him. Turns him into software. --Marshal McLuhan
DREAM #6. 27/12/00 i was drafted into the airforce and was soon flying in a huge cargo plane over a Massive bay encircled by mountains. Rough seas and sharp peaks gave a cold and desolate air to the view. i was dropped out of the plane without warning, and flew smoothly down into the water, quickly swimming to golden shores and escaping the conscious threat of hungry sharks. While paddling somebody else joined me, but i did not recognize them as being somebody i had met before. Next i was right back home in Britain but on the beach with this terrible panicked feeling in my guts, a panic about getting back again across the Atlantic, back to America. I saw my family and friends briefly at an airport somewhere, i was without a proper ticket it seemed, and then i spotted my airforce captain. i quickly got changed back into my airforce uniform and joined my friend Bob in a de-briefing in which Bob told me he was just pretending to be in the airforce too! He didn't really like the Airforce, or the War, or America really. And wanted out! i was back in an old shipping dock surrounded by huge ship building cranes, storage tankers, aerials and rusty orange barrels and lots of water everywhere, ocean, rain and wind. Faust appeared and i remember then blasting into the air on a barrel and landing some time later in the Ocean water again about a mile out into the bay.
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