Pomes and Lyrical Things (Page 1)

Poem and Lyrics


This page on novel language and sound pattern, presented nominally in the guise of 'poetry' or 'pomes', is perhaps about 'psycholinguistics' - language and how language - especially spoken language - being implicit in it, interacts physically by vibration, sound pitch and rhythm, and feeling with consciousness, yet at the same time it goes beyond. I have been asked to provide references such as to fit the deeper material in here into a cultural milieu but am somewhat at a loss as how to do this in view of its transcendent nature.
If I described it as Neuro Linguistic Programming (NLP), which it is certainly not, (indeed since the purity of Milton Erickson's seminal work, which provided the basis, NLP has been getting itself an increasingly bad reputation as a means of covert manipulation and spin doctoring), then I would be misleading the reader - yet some of the devices common to the language patterns of NLP are involved.

Likewise to describe it as 'poetry' is misleading - yet elements of the word forms, ambiguity, semiology, allusion, structure, process of conceptualisation/recall of image and memory pattern and sense of meaning evoked by some poetry arise and are explored and employed to actively involve the reader - indeed, be warned, that this is in no way a 'passive' journey and that some of the contents of this site may give rise to radical change: change viewpoint and the world changes.

Every language
having a structure,
by the very nature of language,
reflects in its own structure
that of the world
as assumed by those
who evolved the language.
In other words,
we read
into the world
the structure
of the language we use.
[Alfred Korzybski]

If I were to present you with a new, 'novel' word form directly, a new mantramic/conceptual island directly, an island that will float in your consciousness and that you may from time to time access, would it help demonstrate the kind of things this page is about? Here you are, try this: 'frauditors'? Does that help? How about: 'pun loving', a 'pig idea' or 'Z movie actor'?
Certainly if I pointed in the direction of the surreal word 'jelly' of Joyce, the punning and twisting of Dodgson and perhaps to a lesser extent (in words) Lennon it would maybe evoke the spare writ of what begins to shift in the undergrowth in here: 'To transform,' as the caterpillar didn't say, as he had become a butterfly, 'one must first turn into a Christ, Alice, a natural process of evolution, not a fairy story.'

Would the phrase: 'consciousness as a process shifting associatively between mantramic islands' mean anything? Are you able to cope with saying one thing yet simultaneously meaning three others to bystanders? Vice versa, how about: 'The protolanguage of Ur Sprach or glossolalia arises out a consciousness common to all humanity, thus it's universality'? or: 'our view of the world is essentially one of an infinite number of views each having a strict metaphorical relation to the other & individually constructed from their primal symbol forms'?

Such things will ultimately be addressed in here as the site develops. For further short neologistic word forms, follow the links.
Regarding free lyrics, or free original lyrics, musicians may use any of the ORIGINAL poem forms on here for free as song lyrics in whole or part PROVIDED that: a) Dan Scorpio is acknowledged as the author of the lyrics in all cases b) that the lyrics are used in a not for profit context (which includes amateur musicias, amateur bands and educational use, For commercial or for profit use of the material in any form, please contact the author care of davewilliams3AThotmailDOTcom

This is Pomes Page 1.
Follow link for page 2

Know that that, is not what I meant, at all
Even'ng spread out against the fading sky
The toast and tea dying, with dying fall
This measured life of coffee spoons goes by.
And how should I presume, or do I err?
Sensing perfumed dress smoothed by long fingers
Soft arms that are braceleted, white and bare
Do I dare taste the sweet cup that lingers?
Lingers whilst deep passion still flows in me
Overwhelming sad Kronos' repression
And gentle mermaid's quiet song of the sea
Wake's in me April's urgent expression;
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment's crisis?
[After TSE]

~~~Purple Vibes~~~

'I'm sitting with you, you've got nice purple vibes.'
Oh yes, Sweet Lady, and much more besides;
But how do ye know?
How do ye know?
Are you graced and sensitive?
Or do you too, see me glow?
['Twas some time later
I noticed her grace,
Her easy motion;
The fineness of limb,
And fairness of face:
She would make an exquisite dancer,
Perhaps even match me,
And move as the ocean,
In time with Gluck's bliss head spirits.
Perhaps I should have told her about the vibes...]

silence descends on the will,
it does not effect the voice.

when silence makes its visitation,
i no longer desire to speak,

the cave calls,
the alone-spot where all talk is foolish
the angels have no ears
the stones have no care
the earth, no heart,
and i am dead of will,

silent as the smiling morning glory,
laughing in this visitation,
silent in a living and unspoken word.
[ken phelan]

His caring is a nightmare to us,
And his voice a stone.
We would like to heed his words,
But we only half hear them.

The big drama between us
Makes too much noise for us to understand each other.
We watch his lips moving,
Shaping sounds that die away.
We feel endlessly distant,
Though we are endlessly bound by love.
Only when we notice that he is dying do we know he lived.

That is Father to us.
And I...
...I should call you Father?
That would open a gulf between us.

You are my son.
I will know you as one knows his only beloved child,
Even when he has become a man,
An aging man.

Extinguish my eyes,
I'll go on seeing you.
Seal my ears,
I'll go on hearing you.
And without feet I can make my way to you,
Without a mouth I can swear your name.

Break off my arms,
I'll take hold of you with my heart as with a hand.

Stop my heart,
And my brain will start to beat.

And if you consume my brain with fire,
I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood.

And yet, though we strain against the deadening grip
Of daily necessity,
I sense there is this mystery:
All life is being lived.

Who is living it, then?
Is it the things themselves,
Or something waiting inside them,
Like an unplayed melody in a flute?

Is it the winds blowing over the waters?
Is it the branches that signal to each other?
Is it flowers interweaving their fragrances,
Or streets, as they wind through time?

Is it the animals,
Warmly moving,
Or the birds,
That suddenly rise up?
Who lives it, then?
Are you the one who is living life?

How surely gravity's law,
Strong as an ocean current,
Takes hold of even the smallest thing
And pulls it toward the heart of the world.
Each thing - each stone, blossom, child - is held in place.

Only we,
In our arrogance,
Push out beyond what we each belong to for some empty freedom.

If we surrendered to earth's intelligence
We could rise up rooted,
Like trees.

Instead we entangle ourselves in knots of our own making
And struggle,
Lonely and confused.

So, like children,
We begin again to learn from the things,
Because they are in God's heart;
They have never left him.
This is what the things can teach us:
To fall,
Patiently to trust our heaviness.

Even a bird has to do that
Before he can fly.
[ Rainer Maria Rilke ]

They sat listening to Mozart by candlelight,
'Voi che sepete' from the Marriage of Figaro.
He had tears running down his face,
Although she couldn't see because of the shadows,
She sensed something:
'What's the matter?'
'It's just so beautiful, so beautiful,' he sobbed.

every single word we utter
every word we hear
comprises a tiny metaphor
a micro metaphor
which we decode
and assimilate
into our world
or apparent knowing
by referring back
in physical sense memory
to sensations that we once had
re-sensing them
re-energizing them
as the word stream proceeds

and as each of us
has different memories
different associations
with any given word
then our interpretations
will necessarily differ
and thus it occurs
that no word possesses universal meaning
that a simple sentence
has a myriad of micro-meanings
but one can point
the directions to a particular city
with a reasonanbly coherent set of signposts
that lead the listener
to that city
whatever the starting point might be.

in this manner
one might drink deep of the spring
the fills the endless seas
and lights the stars:

in love wisdom
arises insight
intelligence and light
and silence
concentrating into one point
revealing the whole
the inneffable
in every apparent fragment
immensity arisng in the heart
in the nature of feeling
of all things

elicit bliss in seeking
by open window

Book of Rememberance;
Libra 24.55

the temple beautiful
from isiso in egypt
to helen of troy
the femme fascinator
in unconscious dominion
yet perfectly dutiful
in all she surveys
she shakes her hollow womb
forsaking opinion
groans aloud
and clasps the solid stem
and calling out
in her very deepest
secret place
thou weepest
the name of creation
which comes into her
in one sweet line
where two crafts meet
even faithless women
the foul
the fair
of limb of hip
of eye and face
and dancing feet
become forgiven
for who would dare
to tell the rose
how to array her beauty
and who here knows better
than earth
and moon
and stars
to arrange their duty

as nero reborn doth dig the coal
in forgetting time
on the path of our happiness
drinking deep of the cup
of sleep and lethe
revealing sin
half crippled in
a west virginian hole
suspecting not
for all do sup
unspoken crime
in knowing
the very loveliest
and saddest landscape
beyond belief
has a nasty reputation
for stopping the world
unspoken in time
her wisdom growing
and assuming responsibility
in each dream unfurled
great caesar comes again
in each eager thrill
and warm sensation
unnoticed quietly
in bellefontaine
before the sun comes up
that brings the bill

these here are reminders
for the advanced soul
sensing yet vaguely
another part of herself
that knows without doubt
that in use
will find as
she reads the burning scroll
one changes the stamp of nature
from the outside in
from the inside out
that easy money
is energy
once hard won
by others
by sweat
by sword
by slavery
or by point of gun
that this voice keeps whispering
will not forget
that love's sweet blooms
burst joyously in spring
in their brief encounter
with the sparkling sun
then ever slowly fade away
dying with great dignity
to make next season's wombs
while the birds still sing
as one day
so shall their shining lover
yet the essence
defies all death
beneath the banyans
it's joyful song
lives on forever
and ever
in passion's bed
as judas of nazareth
the very one
he also risen from the dead
in finding a path with heart
on journeys long
once stalked manhattan's concrete canyons
with stillness in the head
and forgetfulness in heart
knowing words are of breath
and breath of life
now breathe here
that which is said

A Lesson from Chiron

The very notion that transformation,
Deep insight,
Radical change - call it what you will,
Could occur in one...
...and that things would carry on in the same old fixated ways...
Is utterly, absolutely and ridiculously, absurd.
Can you see that?
Is it obvious, clearly and manifestly?
And do you then begin to understand,
Begin to have an inkling of,
The parallel, collective,
Interrelated nature of the processes at work?

The Scales

the scales are softly swinging,
and creaking in the night,
the feather in the left pan,
the soul sits in the right,
karma in the balance,
compassion in the fire,
just is in the two edged sword
and ending of desire.

masculine on one side,
with female on the next,
positive and negative.
heaven, hell and sex,
left and right on one hand,
day and night the other,
up and down and in and out
of father meeting mother.

past and future joining,
in universal now,
no speculation, postulation,
ending why and how,
no unneeded thinking
no wistfulness, or will,
omniscient, luminescent
balanced, calm, so still.

the scales are softly swinging,
and creaking in the night,
creation separation,
out of no thingness come light,
'I think therefore,' says right pan,
leaping into left,
'I am - sat over there.'
with sleight of hand so deft.

[This pome reflects upon the nature of duality as it derives from the 'null field' or (Brahma/The Father) and divides into bipolar creation of the opposites hot/cold, up/down, male female, etc creating a triplicity (Father/Son/Ghost, Brahma/Vishnu/Shiva).

This is explained by the Buddhists in the form of: Pattica Sumuppada - dependent co-arising (e.g. 'hot' can't possibly exist without 'cold' & furthermore it needs a 'third party' to discriminate. It is best exemplified in pictorial art by Blake's: 'Ancient of Days' reaching down with his (dualistic) dividers such as to make a triangle with two vertices on 'earth' and one in 'heaven'.

Note that the 'split mind' prevalent in consciousness today comprises an ongoing reinforcement of the languaged pattica: 'I am' and variants embedded in our languages - whereas the actual situation is that the supposed 'thinker' is a projection of thinking. Silencing the unnecessary chatter - as recommended in most spiritual systems of meditation [even the mystical Christian in the 'Be Still...'] - reveals an altogether different state of affairs. Unnecessary chatter, or self-centred internal dialogue, continually creates a state of inattention, a hypnotic fixation on a limited observation/mind set by repeated internal firing of the neuronic circuitry associated with the hearing process.

In terms of stopping this chatter, it must be observed and allowed to lose its primacy - but this must be practiced rather than thought about/discussed (the latter two just causing even more noise). [Note that since this 'internal dialogue' intrudes internally into the hearing sense, the act of listening intently to external stimuli is particularly useful in silencing it.]

A Thursday in October

it's national poetry day
and there's some heavy duty karma
going down hereabouts
the conflict manifesting in the mess
hard words
and indifference
born of supping with devils
and the thrills and spills
of the father of modern art
doomed for a certain term
to walk the night
as the seven wonders shiver
before the unflinching eye
of the last judgement
silently observing
and contemplating their destiny
as the fool refutes fact
flaunts his arrogance and ignorance
and kicks hard the dog snapping his heels
as he lurches blindly into the abyss
repeating songs of praise
denying credence
and plain sense
as he worships the world
in building a new panama canal
destroying the hanging gardens
staring blankly at the capstone
on the planetary kundalini
and the nearby solar cross
fighting a civil war
against the rebel army within
and reading essential poems
as he falls for the charm
the intimate portrait
of his friend's wooful wife
dying as a scientist
tragically at age forty-one
as she got caught out
performing magick writes
waking the dead
and annotating
swedenborg's wisdom of angels
ahead of her time

head down
horns out
like some unilluminated critic
of the pre industrial nation of aristotle
surveying his hidden treasure
pointlessly poring over paintings by cézanne
wondering how much work experience
you can actually get
from a dirty picture
or would you be better off
in terms of hard understanding
and body learning
with the back breaking work of a miner
carrying the symbol of transformation
upon his rough
veined arms
as he burrows deep
into the womb
of the dark warm earth
than thinking so much
for what working with water
did for us
by way of inventing labour saving devices
and sucking off the staff
whilst celebrating the riches of rome
reaped in the silence of the lambs
and the energy of slaves
still wondering
what makes a millionaire
blissfully unaware
that every atom in our bodies
has been around a long long time
when it appeared patently obvious
to a man who's only possessions
were a pearl grey robe
and a pair of sandals

singing a soundtrack to seduction
on the home front
in a bleak northern town
the lady of the manor
with eyes down
on the watchdog's life of grime
reading her own illusions
writ on the walls
in the john holmes chapel of rest
home guard rail crash test dummies
looks on
from the workshop of the world
as yet another tenant
is evicted from a council flat
with a haul
of antique mirrors
stolen from a masonic lodge
in a cavalcade of conjuring
as she makes preparations
on the festival of the harvest moon
for the night before all saints day
in mastering
her fluid emotional nature
deep lunar desires
and the conflicting demands
of word and flesh
realising abstinence sows sand over all
whilst two teams of amateur magicians
weave a homemade alcoholic spell 
but their burning greed
brings about their grim downfall
as they divine the precise location
of a murderous fight
amongst the lurid sexual scenes
observed in sleep deprivation
by a man in an orange boiler suit
and a black hood
designated as evil
by the evil regime
marching with lock-stepped perceptions
by mindless but binding chantra
that echoes endlessly
through the empty sky at night
disturbing all creation
in structured dissonance
it's like playing russian roulette
with a white tiger
and a woman on heat
you must expect
to get pawed around at times
it must follow
as the night the day

she liked her men like curtains
smooth to operate
open when she wanted
easy to hide behind
and well hung
but she would never reveal
the real story
of what went on in there
of the golden fleece
the pink flamingo
the ogham
the vinegar bible
the persistent voice of the devil
and the sin of saggitary
as it never will be moved
though lewdness court it
in a shape of heaven
in dolce far niente
and despite
occasional flashes of wisdom
how far people
are prepared believe
the name of the rose
painted larger
by the king of spinformants
to tell lies
to perform like circus freaks
to commit atrocities
given sufficient suggestion
inducement in the form of trinket
threats and manipulation
of group dynamic
by the evil beings that stalk
in the hidden underworld
around avebury and stonehenge
projecting on the human mind
their grand designs
in subtle means
by dancing and singing
in tone with the ancient archetypal music
reflecting undercover missions
in secret psychic glyph
babes reduced to misery
grumpy old men
fed with cold and usurious hand
and sin
songs of innocence
childlike chants
creating world war
incredible stories
the moors murders
a chapel built in the midst
of the garden of love
vampire myth
serial adulterers
pointing the finger
at pyramids of skulls
and the child sex trade
indicating how the vote was won
but who cares who wins
best be a silent witness
when the first prize
is to kiss jesus of nazareth
the christed one
in a re-enactment of the last supper

you are the object of my affection
with mars and saturn in the crab
home is your nemesis
so beware violence there
that can take many forms
and cancer of the breast
this done
lock up your daughters
never paint horses green
study interview techniques
hatch an escape plan
and pose naked for a calendar
if you dare
and if the fast failing blooms
on that once proud flower
can stand the harsh light
for the demon
who would steal the gypsies' eyes
knows the ancient curse
and the fundamental principle
of the peeping tom
with the arthritic elbow
is that of all romantics and revolutionaries:
once raw and immediate
in being restrained
it by degrees
becomes passive
till it becomes but a shadow
incarceration without end
in the infinite orgy
of the city of dreams
terminal boredom
and depression
listening in fading synestheasia
to the parable
of the whore with the golden heart
who licks her lips eagerly
feeling that energising
filthy jazz
for tis the sport
to have the engineer
hoist with his own petard


zab abab abaam aam aam
azaa azaa azaa
mab amab azaam zaam zaam
maza mazaa mazaam

eochth aeochth oomoos azaa
ichthaa ichthaa ichthaa
meocht zeocht ichmoos ichtha
michthaa michthaa michthaam

zab abab abaam aam aam
azaa azaa azaa
mab amab azaam zaam zaam
maza mazaa mazaam

Pauli Exclusion Principle

electrons host the memory
in these
there lives that love
do recognise each other
in star maps laid above
eliciting responses
as one in dance divine
in union
sacred orgasm
intense in perfect time
identical harmonics
in heart the latin word
hence love
and sweet concordance
in singing orbs be heard
forever and forever
communicate in tones
that's how you know
you feel it
in your bones
ageless timeless boundless
they brought you to my door
you thought you recognised my face
we've danced this dance before
in this place of nativity
industrial revolutions
a special measure on this earth
a certain constitution
we didn't come by accident
the date and time were known
I'm so surprised to meet you
I thought I'd come alone
it took that shock to wake me
suspecting not a thing
but I had to take a lesson
to make the ether sing
the work's here
waiting for you
magnetic artist
align yourself
the means is at your hand
harmonic singing laughing
be silent
touch anything that I've touched
for then you'll find me near
listen to them dancing
and joying in the tones
in twenty two the answer
now feel it
in your bones
ageless timeless boundless
they brought you
to my door
I thought I recognised your face
we've danced this dance before

id ef us ea no ma to vi to fae
ad et imt ol wae no ra mu to si
ni fa wo le so re pa do mi kae
uv eem on lo re du pa mai so vi.
od ea ri wa so op to an od de lo
un up el si ha wo ea go an sa
ka nu el fi ti pe ko ha gu so
ri pe ta no lk ru sh im be la.
oh we sh ee to mi ha to at pu
un co wi te no sh ol to ma ne
hi ta ki to no wi na fa gi du
on wo ma li pi ka sa da ma ru
atk owp am vul gor apt imsh en tul wae
dir ost un pul sor ipth umsm ven ul sae.

I had the first most extraordinary experience.
There was a man mending the road;
That man was myself;
The pickaxe he held was myself;
The very stone which he was breaking up was a part of me;
The tender blade of grass was my very being,
And the tree beside the man was myself.
I also could feel and think like the road mender
And I could feel the wind passing through the tree,
And the little ant on the blade of grass I could feel.
The birds,
The dust,
And the very noise were a part of me.
Just then there was a car passing by at some distance.
I was the driver,
The engine,
And the tyres;
As the car went further away from me,
I was going away from myself.
I was in everything, or rather everything was in me,
Inanimate and animate,
The mountain,
The worm and all breathing things.
All day long I remained in this happy condition.

Invocation of Harmony

let there be harmony
for such is the nature of things
from the largest of the large
writ in the smallest of the small

let there be harmony in love
and wisdom
in the union of the opposites
let there be harmony by conflict
in the collision of karma
and learning
in the dissolution of dissonance
let there be harmony in colour
fragrance and taste
in the interplay of resonant light
let there be harmony in sound
in musical form
and beauty of voice
let there be harmony in time
in rhythm
in dance
and in the seasons
and the heavens
let there be harmony in shape
in geometry and space
in nature
and mankind
and it's children
let there be harmony in will
in the power of insistence

let there be harmony
for such is the nature of things
in this arise
serenity and grace
and compassion
from the largest of the large
writ in the smallest of the small
so let it be

The Immortals:
Part 1

In the fixation of vexation and ill hue
Mirrored in like behaviour
Self indulgence, silence and overt politeness
Internally fomenting revolting activities
Quietly inflamed in the controlled manner of adults
With the emotional stabilty of small children
Discounted down and out of it
As the shining spring emerged through
The marriage bed of the metaphysically divorced
The lost days of hope in the last rays
Of the silently dimming twilight
Move the endless scores

Of these sad fixated self-proclaimed
Immortals here and there and there
In bickering and pattern dance
In rigid form about their self-made square
Whilst life's so short in fact
The prophets did in truth declare
One Moment in Annihilation's Waste
One moment, of the Well to share
Oh those of you that hear,
Make haste, make haste, make haste.

Part 2

Where the eternal spirit is strong
And the mind monkey dances
Not deadened and drugged by the long
Diatribes and lectures of the false romances
Nor caught in the conditional continuities
The habituations, repetitions and odd fancies
Reiterations of same old tastes and scent and song
Pitch, rhythm, rhyme, alliteration
The noisy views
The clamour of grammar
And its innumerable cancers
Cliche, automated response,
Living in the past wrapped in a holed sarong
Speculation and empty debate:
These are the self-forged chains that bind
In creating illusory continuity
By repetition,
Hammering like the blacksmith
Fixating the stamp of the given condition
The karmonic oscillation of the culture
Vibrating the neuronic throng
The needless forms reaching down from the past
In the patterned doings of it's members.
Be aware,
Unlock these chains slowly,
For here lies fire,
And be reborn with care
For there exist chances
Of stillness and clarity
Negation of the endless useless doings
Wherin lies freedom

Part 3

She came upon a natural pool of calm
As the morning showed her her smile
Ridden hard on a dew christened day
The lady with the light hand
The soft voice
And even softer the eyes
Toning the centre
For a good night's kiss
And maybe more
But no;
On with the delusion
And the peaceful easy feeling
Of middle-class mediocrity
Security and growing greyness with each new day
As women of several generations tell each other how,
With all their life to live,
And all their love to give,
They are not about to crumble
To lay down and die
Oh no.

Part 4

The gentle brush of the lips
The softness of the exposed flesh
A sigh
A toss of the head
The flash of the exposed stocking top
The breathy voices
The urgency arising deep in the loins
The warmth
A deep groan
The rhythm
The co-operative ecstacy
The dance
And scented passion
Of love:
Oh no.
I'm no immortal;
I'm not about to crumble,
Pass the cup, and quick with it,
Ere the darkness falls.

Part 5

Presuming my own immortality
I noted in the obituaries
That Jennifer d'Abo died
Candle snuffed out in full flight
A mere 57 years;
I shiver,
Feeling the ever nearing endless cold of the grave.
Mind what you say?
Toe the line?
Don't upset the applecart?
Run rabbit?
On with the motley?
They'll not lay me out in it,

Sensing by Motion

Ten o'clock Portland Street
That balmy March when the world changed
Ambling along
Shorts, sandals, short sleeved shirt
And mandatory carrier bag
Without a care and full of sauce
(I did my research in the morning
and I've been on the rock and ale since two);
'Are you looking for business?' she enquires
Suddenly appearing from nowhere
A good looking, well shapely girl
(Unusual around here - most are anorexic)
Thirty-something with a bonny face
This is temptation:
I know it
There's a surge in the groin
It's been some time
And I'm half up for it;
I sense Satan,
Hiding around the corner on Canal Street
(He does a lot of trade down there)
'Your place of mine,' she offers.
'I don't have a place around here.'
'My place in Disley then.'
Bloody hell, she doesn't hang about
(but Disley's bloody miles away).
'Can you dance?'
She's taken aback: 'Dance?'
I take her hand, move her,
Try to flex her but she's stiff,
Like a heavy rusted chain:
She can't dance.
'I'll give it a miss then: see you.'
Walk on.

On Hearing Voices of Machine

he speaks his name aloud
in phrase repeats
harmonic tones
the voices of machine
bore through the skull
each day and night defeats
all sanity with spoken word unseen

in tones of many pitch he replicates
the prosody
of countless words and voice
imagined as the mind's ear separates
ecstatic groans
and demons in the noise

these humming wires
these hissing pipes and flames
which can all preach in tongue of ev'ry kind
must in short time
repeat their dullard claims
thus propaganda penetrates the mind

for mind plays tricks
when idling free of task
hears pome in motor
freezer growl and fridge
behold the drone
behold the veil
the mask:
machines repeat
machines repeat

'I am the word
I am the word
I am
I amplify
I simplify
in re-exciting memory by tone
divine I deepest thought
and mark its beat'

as endless chanting stupefies the brain
so does machine vocation
trap the soul
in hideous hells
of argument and pain
dreamt wide awake
in eyeless multi-role

see how it plays
recalling forms of word
in sweet mimicry of tones
but what seems spoke is memory
not heard
'til oscillation fills up flesh and bones

physician's potions
may dull ear and wit
shock blast fine webs
of nature's fair creation
address them neither
proper cures that fit
neither give balm
to those in this damnation

same place
same drone
same mantra vibrates
routine repeats
in repeat
makes routine
same song
same pome
same reincarnates
anchored as one
in each sad micro-dream

create world
we see know and feel
man made machine
then by twisting of fate
machine makes him dance
in imperfect wheel
om mani padme
fixate fixate

as in perfect replica
does machine enchant
beyond the reach of noise or song
repeating unthought order
in obscene persistence
having no ken of right nor wrong

he rattles window
roof air and more
the very ground on which you walk
he shakes
and all in turn
reciprocate in core
such uncontrolled cacophony he makes

here then
in vile ecology
you place
great nature's tend'rest made seed
then wonder
as harsh darkness blights her face
take heed of this
fulfil not want but need

by industry's revolution
by man's iron will
driven deep in sin
pimped molecules in sad prostitution
rotate as myriad
in everlasting spin

in endless masturbation
no release
such is their fate
brings their revenge on man
so let them rest
and in the small hours cease
let then nature serve need
not want nor plan

so be aware
in compass of machine
that he will tempt
embrace you in his dance
be therefore mindful
of his subtle scheme
sing with him not
avoid the weaver’s trance

On Hearing Voices of Machine

Oral Sex

'I'm really into oral sex,'
the pretty 19 year old girl announces for all to hear,
'I just can't get enough of it.'
There's a stunned silence.
The regular members of smoker's corner
stare at the floor
avoiding each other's gaze
[there would be uncontrolled hilarity,
amongst some,
if their eyes met]
and shift their feet wondering what to say.
Nervously, they begin to cough
and talk about the weather or not.
Next day she admits,
somewhat embarrassed and shame faced,
that she thought: 'oral sex'
meant talking about it.
Good thing too;
some of us were beginning to get ideas...


sacred are these flowers
joy of the earth
married as one in soft wind and solar fire
fragile and meek
patterned in many forms
the wild daisy the rose
measured in form
the eternal architect
made in his measure
of love;
fine perfume of many shades
gentle and sweet and free
the laughing dahlia
dancing dandelion
and night scented stock;
suffer them not to be cut
leaves ripped off
soft roots cast aside
and their heads and spines
crucified in vases unto lingering death
at man's vain wont,
for these too are children of god
which looked upon with love
shall magnify and reflect it back a thousand fold
to shine on all that come
on the humnble
the prince with his proud court
and the knave:
sacred are these flowers
joy of the earth
married as one in soft wind and solar fire.

Education in music
is most sovereign,
because more than anything else,
rhythm and harmony
find their way to the inmost soul
and take strongest hold upon it,
bringing with them
and imparting
if one is rightly trained...

I would teach children music,
and philosophy;
but most importantly music,
for in the patterns of music
and all the arts
are the keys of learning.
[Plato ]

Vernal Equinox:
Jupiter Five Virgo
Mars Zero Pisces

the matchstick men spirited away
by the shaolin monks
to the wealthiest place on earth
observing the shocking behaviour
of the alcoholic wife of democritus
with her cutting edge churchyard cough
divining grand designs
in the feng shui bedslide manual
a signed chaucer first edition
the compleat fistory
of the industrial revelation
(in eighteen volumes)
the wholly burble
and a porno film
of boudica taking on
the roman legions
(or whatever turns you on)
as she squirms uncomfortably
mongst the crumbs
of yesterday's once forgotten toast.

don't worry
it's the survival of the fastest
and i'll be gone in sixty seconds
with a holbein and a van gogh
shoved in my pants
then you can wallow your sweet medicine
in the peace and quiet
of a long
lazy sunday mourning
as the sexton
quietly measures the fateful with his eyes
as they come together
and listen to the archbishop of canterbury's tales
about the forthcoming military clashes with the evangelists
the blue line drawn by caesar
his psychic sacrets
and the confessions he wrote
in green ink
on the back of a ten-pound note
while st lucy rides the sky
wearing nothing more than words
writ in vitus' bold hand
on her collar of diamonds.

send in the substitute wife
this one's worn out;
hold me in the gardener's arms
beneath the china blue plaque;
meet me at twilight in the woods
where our hearts throbbed as one;
pass me the lush
countess lovelace,
and we''ll keep it in the family,
sweet augusta,
in these hours of idleness.

the good
the bad
and the terminally indifferent
the passionless
and depressed
the bewildered
and the obsessed
running their endless circles
cutting ever deeper tracks
into these brutalized nervous systems
seeking salvation
law and order
peace and harmony
freedom from unhappiness
and the kingdom of heaven
within the confines of this dark tapestry
woven anew in each generation
in the forty-seven thousand compound symbols
as the weaving masters
reincarnate in their work
creating the barriers
to their heart's desire
in the warp of the alpha
the weft of the omega
and endless clattering of the loom
of that in which they do.

ironic really
it's inside you and me
like the man said
so lean upon it gently:
every little thing
is going to be all right
in the one life
the whole;
the buddha really does hide
in the bushes at the bottom of the garden
but how do you see?

This Be The Verse Extended

They fuck you up, your mum and dad
They may not mean to, but they do
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man
It deepens like a coastal shelf
Get out as early as you can
And don't have any kids yourself.

They fuck you up, the mail and times
They really mean to, and they do
They fill you with vile dreams and rimes
Sly propaganda, just for you.

And teachers, fucked up in their turn
With priests' dire bible threats and fear
Social control and hellfire burn
In advertisments for sport and beer.

In language, culture fixated shit
Adams right hand still tortures man
Pissed out repeating their meaningless writ
Pull out as early as you can.

You'll fill them with the faults you have
And the TV set will feed them more
As the crap rolling out into the streets
Comes home to roost at your front door

You'll fuck them up, your lad and girl
You may not mean to, but you'll kill
Your head's in such a fucking whirl
And if you don't the other idiots will
[after Larkin]

Concentration is the forerunner of discipline,
And discipline is the destroyer of spontenteity.
Before going into the Temple,
You should leave two things outside:
And self will.
Unless you enter the Temple empty,
It is impossible to come out full.
A holy man is innocent of worldliness,
Because he does not want to hold things,
Unto himself;
Ownership is the destitution of the world.
Become as an ocean!
The ocean is not empty!
The ocean is full
Empty the mind -
- but don't use effort upon it.
Permit it to become empty.
If you have a bottle full of water,
How can you fill it unless you empty it first?
Do not 'become' or 'realise',
But 'look' and 'see'.
You do not realise the soul,
You dissolve into it.
[The Brothers]

"El Viaje Definitivo"
(The Definitive Journey):
(Juan Ramon Jimenez.)

...and I will leave. But the birds will stay, singing:
and my garden will stay, with its green tree,
with its water well.
Many afternoons the skies will be blue and placid,
and the bells in the belfry will chime,
as they are chiming this very afternoon.
The people who have loved me will pass away,
and the town will burst anew every year.
But my spirit will always wander nostalgic
in the same recondite corner of my flowery garden.

(Reprise in allophonoic phonomorphology... 'Phone Etty Cally):

...an Di wel eve.
Bu de birs wel sta yes ingin:
anmig ar den wels tay witits gre ent ree,
witit swa terwel.
Maneaf ter nons des kys wel beb loo anp las id,
ande bel sinde belf ry welch ime,
is the yarech im in is varyaf ter non.
Dep ep le wo havelo ved mew illp as a way,
andet own wilb ur stan ewe veryare.
Batmas prit welal wys wan dern ost algic
indes amer econ dit ecor ner obmy flo weryg ar den.

Various Observations on Word Pattern

Why is it that some words appear to follow others as sure as night folows ... ? At the end of the... ...could this be an indication of the way our memories are associatively patterned? Apparently, the right hemisphere of the brain deals with storing cliche (and melody), as 'discrete' wholes - so the phrase: 'I did it..' will appear incomplete (both as a cliche and as a melodic fragment). Just watch how it works in yourself for a moment or two And try it also wit a friend): 'as thick as...'; 'something in the way...'; 'it's been a hard...'; 'I feel like making...'; 'come on baby light...'; 'as like as two...'; 'as different as...'. Interesting that the cues into thes preset phrases need to be sufficiently long enough such as to provide essentially non-ambiguous patterns. If cue phrases saying (for instance): 'It's been...'; 'Here I...'; 'If I...'; 'Where will...', etc. are presented then insufficient predication in the head of the pattern exists such as to uniquely predict the whole.
Similarly, although at a more abstract level, grammar the disrupting one form persist indicates deep still patterning the sentence yet intelligibillity the. Form radical and even quite context some perhaps rearrangements.with semiology decoding due persists. Likewise can out and make of remaining.
There are further intrinsic patterns: lso an rop ertain lements o ords ut, rovided e asic nderlying honeme tructure ets reserved en ntelligibillity ersists.

As for phonemic/morphemic rearrangements (and ignoring for the moment any particular accomodations that might produce morphemic forms that are recognisable in some English lexicon or guidance in the form of punctuation) , 'mary mary quite contrary how does your garden grow,' readily transforms into: 'ma rym aryq uitec ontra ryho wdoesyo urg arde ngr ow', 'm ar ymaryq uite con tra ryh ow doesyou rga rd eng row' and 'maryma ryqu iteco ntrar yhowdo e syou rg arde ngrow' with remarkable ease: the number of available combinations is enormous... The disruption of the phonemic/morphemic structure, as well as rendering the sentence virtually unprunounceable, renders it equally unintelligible to a casual listener as well: these two features are connected. Rendering the sentence in something like a rudimentary phonemic form restores both ease of pronounciation and aural perception of the meaning - albeit the form is staccato: 'ma ry ma ry ow dos yor gar den gro'. Interestingly (or obviously?), the removal of the redundant letters in the standard English words allows greater intelligibilty if the resulting stream of letters is chopped at random intervals.

No Practical Use

the past has gone
it only exists in memory
this is fact
you cannot change one iota of it.
what if?
...what if not?
..suppose not?
do you remember?
...why should I?
it was?
...so what?
I, we could have,
...but I, we didn't;
maybe, perhaps
...maybe perhaps not;
more speculation:
meaningless nostalgia,
useless thinking and empty words.

past participles of verbs
did, said, was,
were, cried, has,
all gone
the past has gone
meaningless nostalgia,
lack of awareness of now,
useless thinking and empty words.
if no immediate practical use,
save yourself pain,
drop it:
in this is the ending of hurt.


as when the merry dance begins to slow
undifferentiated, no thing endless sleeps
in fleeting chaos shadows come and go
'til one holds fast and into substance leaps
then makes again new image of its form
as Adam rising from eternal sea
in two and four and twice times eight be born
not asking if to be or not to be
tall oak builds branches deep in earth and sky
then Eve bursts forth yet not from Adam's rib
as hot and cold and left and right gain birth
so ink makes form thus flowing from the nib
'tis true these fleeting ghosts from dust do rise
then back to dust descend again, what dies?


tempts you she to her bed this devious maid
whose grasping womb would bind you to her fate
the youthful flower trapped deep in lust is laid
whose salted drink then in thirst replicates
then silent thorns do bind upon hard want
in unused number as youth slips away
her tongue's cruel lash in exact measure haunt
the vacant bed grown cold even in May
like arrows clearer thoughts spoke in your prime
return in drunken excess of old age
Nature's book keeper knowing all in time
in exact measure metes out then his wage
if eager youth betrayed you in his spell
this dreaming time your fortune will retell


Behold lowly termite, about his task
With neither plan, nor architect to guide
Nor foreman, rule, nor set square here to ask
Each brick of mud, he places side by side
Grows upward true, to unimagined height
This huge cathedral, pointed perfect north
Laid down in eternities endless night
Foundations by cohorts, gone long before
When the final capstone, the grandchild lays
Beholding forbears' fruit brought forth in true
Its blossom, created in endless days
The ancestor's pattern, doth come anew
In this the nature of nature be shown
One becomes many, the many yet one


In making then one global consciousness
What charts each course and sets the compass point?
What moulds this clay to will in form impress
With which to crown the structure and anoint?
Does hive mind deepen wisdom in such crowds
And forge then diamonds from loose random dust
Or lead the mob with empty vaprous clouds
Repeating pattern born of common lust?
For countless years the figures danced entwined
Then four plus four plus four plus four were wed
Each building built on what was built to find
Great jewels grown rich from their marriage bed
As this semantic web becomes unfurled
In warp and weft of word that weaves this world


Each flower, bird and labourer awake
Behold the daily cycle of the sun
Dance in the dew and happy laughter make
Fall still at dusk and with the night are gone
But come again on each recurring day
Arising from the endless night of sleep
Reforming and with knowingness in clay
Not moulding such into a formless heap
Constructed from the smallest of the small
Arranged in form of form of ages past
Its memory dispersed amongst it all
In diverse productions with varying cast
Each knowing which entrance, which lines, which act
As water knows water and stays intact

Mondegreen Jokes

(In Glasgow cake shop pointing at glass case)
'Is that an eclair or a marangue?'
Nay you're right. It's an eclair.'

Ten minutes later, Woman enters fishmonger's with a stanless steel bucket)
'Three poond a fillet'
'Tenner ye don't...'

(Try to say them in a 'Scottish' accent as best you can...)

She said: 'You have such beautiful hands.'
'They are made for creating, and touching beautiful things,' he replied
Later that evening,
They made passionate love.

If mankind wishes for a true life,
It must alter its axis of existence,
You go on in ignorance,
Striving for security;
And true knowledge depends upon
The ability to pass through life,
Without the crutches of security.
If your impersonal life is to develop,
And not be destroyed,
Then throw away those crutches.
Get out of time.
Let time pass about you.

I can only teach you what I have taught
For thousands of years:
Live from moment to moment,
And sorrow will not exist,
It can only exist in a time-unit,
Longer than the moment.

In such living,
There is no room for fear,
Which belongs with memory,
And anticipation when these are coupled,
With effortful attachment.

You must not seek security!
Live in insecurity,
And welcome insecurity.
Do not confuse the avoidance of security,
With the struggle for survival.
You are thinking now of the struggle for survival,
Which is born of need - effortless desire.
The struggle for security,
Is born of want - effortful desire;
This is what should be abandoned.
[After: 'The Brothers']

Thought For the Day

thought for the day
at ten to eight
the issues lost
in a fog of convention
attitudes and platitudes
without debate
of sunday morning mores
that lack invention
on forms that the boy
with sad poker face
set upon the man
with the courage to dare
entertaining yet again
with amazing grace
try assassinate the tyrant
in the wolf's own lair
who built the pyramids
how old the sphinx
brassy pushy woman red dress
bottle in her hand
what was the bill
for a second round of drinks
canterbury harlot
good hard one night stand
french leave master
swordsman in a rage
black and white sweet medicine
francesca in a spin
time commander roman
walls words on every page
caught at river cottage
in debauchery and sin
whilst bug eyed christians
hit town in a bus
with girls on top
and no way to explain
full of adam and eden
try to proselyte us
what dark desires
drive her sexually insane
if the choice is god squad
or rock and ale
says the stiff newsreader
with the twisted mouth
i'll see you in the pub
come sunday without fail
as Isabel comes wildly
from the east and in the south
a passion for the forties
to do before you die
peep show creep show
man in plastic box
whatever turns you on
be it ankle hip or thigh
with secrets of the psychics
and the genesis of pox
doctor in a white coat
and orphans in a field
what the romans did for us
in rosemary and thyme
in dreams of fools and horses
of will and grace concealed
will a pussy in her handbag
create a life of crime
watch out for imitations
if you're buying a picasso
sea change coming monday
mourning lanes in brighton
at two thirty in the dentists
you can stuff it with sargasso
rock and roll madonna
french kissing enid blyton
gotta habit gotta have it
but not anyone will do
caught in the act one evening
in the twilight and the trees
compulsive and obsessive
make these fantasies come true
his trousers round his ankles
and his mistress on her knees
but now the tale is over
the big book put aside
on the top shelf far away
near the Keats and TSE
this bed's a sleeping platform
no fit place for a bride
you no longer drink bacardi
so i'll have a cup of tea

The Conference

[Carolyn is in the middle of reading the letter to Michael.

"-- going over and over in my mind every detail, every moment of our time together and I ask myself, "What happened to me down there?" I struggle to put it together in a way that allows me to continue knowing we're on separate roads. But then I look through the lens of my camera, and you're there. I start to write an article and I find myself writing it to you. It's clear to me now we have been moving towards each other, towards those four days, all our lives ---

MICHAEL (rises)
Goddamn sonofabitch! I don't want to hear anymore! Sonofabitch! Burn the damn thing! I don't want to hear it! Throw it away!

Carolyn continues reading silently. Michael's curiosity gets the best of him: MICHAEL
What's he saying now?

Well, he just gets on about how if mama ever needed him, she could find him through the National Geographic magazine. He as a photographer. He promises not to write again. Then all it says is... I love you... Robert.

Carolyn opens the first notebook which is dated AUGUST 1965. Michael sits beside her with a cup of coffee.

CAROLYN (reads)
"I suppose his coming into my life was, in many ways, prepared for weeks, maybe even months before. There was a restlessness I was feeling. Out of the blue and for no apparent reason. There's nothing more frightening to a woman whose been settled down for almost twenty years than to suddenly feel unsettled. I don't know when it started ..."


No matter how much distance we put between us and this house, I bring with it with me. And I'll feel it every minute we're together. And I'll blame loving you for how much it hurts. And then even these four days won't be anything more than something sordid and... a mistake.

ROBERT (desperately)
Francesca, listen to me. You think what's happened to us happens to just anybody? What we feel for each other? How much we feel? We're not even two separate people anymore. Some people search their whole lives for it and wind up alone -- most people don't even think it exists and you're going to tell me that giving it up is the right thing to do? That staying here alone in a marriage, alone in a town you hate, in a house you don't feel a part of anymore -- you're telling me that's the right thing to do!?

We are the choices we've made, Robert.

ROBERT (rises)
He turns his back on her.

Robert. Please. (desperate to explain) You don't understand -- no one does. When a woman makes the choice to marry, to have children -- in one way her life begins but in another way it stops. You build a life of details. You become a mother, a wife and you stop and stay steady so that your children can move. And when they leave they take your life of details with them. And then you're expected move again only you don't remember what moves you because no one has asked in so long. Not even yourself. You never in your life think that love like this can happen to you.

But now that you have it -

I want to keep it forever. I want to love you the way I do now the rest of my life. Don't you understand -- we'll lose it if we leave. I can't make an entire life disappear to start a new one. All I can do is try to hold onto to both. Help me. Help me not lose loving you.

She embraces him. He wraps his arms around her.
He whispers.

Don't leave me. Don't leave me alone. Please.

This breaks her heart, knowing how hard it is for him to say this. She holds him tighter, until -

ROBERT (cont'd)
Listen. Maybe you feel this way, maybe you don't. Maybe it's just because you're in this house. Maybe ... maybe when they come back tomorrow you'll feel differently. Don't you think that's possible?

I don't know. Please...

I'm going to be here a few more days. I'll be at the Inn. We have some time. Let's not say any more now.

No. Don't do this.

I CAN'T SAY GOODBYE YET! We'll leave it for now. We're not saying goodbye. We're not making any decision. Maybe you'll change your mind. Maybe we'll accidentally run into each other and ... and you'll change your mind.

Robert, if that happens, you'll have to decide. I won't be able to.
She cries in his arms. He kisses her as if for the last time. Then, quickly, separates himself and leaves the house.]


'Ooooooo! where did you find this one then?' Her friends are giggling whilst at the same time appreciative. 'He looks like he's fell straight off The Bridges of Madison County.'

Oh yes my dear, you don't know how near the truth you are (are you by some chance psychic?)
I was in the original version, indeed we probably archetyped the script and believe me a lot more twists and turns were involved - anger, jealousy, divorce, nervous breakdowns. In our version it wasn't mere play acting, oh no. We made the dialogue and action up as we went along. We had real feelings, real heart wrenching, real dilemmas and, most of all, real hurt - actual physical pain - and it still hurts even now.

That evening, I played the gathering Lennon's: 'Working Class Hero.' The pain that the woman had innocently catalysed made me spit the lyrics, put more heart than usual in every single phrase. Oh my God, it hurts.


Francesca places a bag of groceries on the front seat of the truck, then gets in herself to wait for Richard. She takes a deep breath and removes a handkerchief from her bag to wipe the sweat from her face.
She freezes - Through the windshield, she sees ROBERT standing beside his truck across the street, staring at her. Her heart stops. For a moment, she isn't even sure he's real. The town moves about its business around them. But neither notice or care.
Whatever safety or forgetfulness she felt is gone. Her feelings burst through. She sits there helpless before him -- willing to go or stay depending on what he did. He begins walking towards her.
She prepares herself. Her life will change -- it has to. There's no turning back. But the closer Robert gets, the clearer he can see that she is crying. And he stops. Without any words, he realizes what taking her with him would mean.
With just a glance, he sacrifices her.
With their eyes locked in the middle of Main Street -- in front of the whole town -- they smile and say goodbye.
Robert returns to his truck. He drives off down Main Street, taking the first left. Moments later, Richard throws the feed bag into the back of his truck and gets in. Francesca is wiping her eyes.
He doesn't notice. He drives off in the same direction as Robert.

FRANCESCA (Voice Over)
For a moment, I didn't know where I was. And for a split second, the thought crossed my mind that he really didn't want me -- that it was easy to walk away.
As they pass the corner where Robert made his left turn, Francesca turns to look and sees: ROBERT'S TRUCK IS PARKED just off the corner. As if he had to drive away to get out of sight, but couldn't bring himself to drive any further.
The sight of him hiding there breaks Francesca's heart, she turns away from her husband to hide the tears.]

ROBERT (Voice Over)
"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods... There is a rapture on the lonely shore... There is society where none intrudes... By the deep sea and music in its roar... I love not man the less, but Nature more... From these our interviews, in which I steal... From all I may be, or have been before... To mingle with the Universe and feel... What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal."]


More to come...


Song of Orpheus

heard as music
seen as light and dance
scented as perfume
tasted as nectar
felt as benediction

we are written in the heavens
each man
and child
the warm animals
basking reptiles
and shimmering fish
these busy insects
the soft swaying trees
and dancing bushes
these radiant flowers
the very rocks
and dust beneath our feet
each in itself
a symphony of synchrony

yet each symphony
is but itself a tiny player
in the great cosmic orchestra
of the whole;
the great song
heard as music
seen as light and dance
scented as perfume
tasted as nectar
felt as benediction.

the endless myriads of stars
glittering above you
the twinkling atoms
below and beyond
moving in integration
and concert with itself
the whole exists
in assonance
in unsurpassable harmony
balanced counterpoint
and utterly perfect timing

in this
is grace;
in this
manifests absolute
the origin and interplay of opposites
the arising of cause and effect
the 'laws' of nature
and the faultless
effortless balance
and active creative counterpoint
of universal justice
and love;
not a sparrow falls

the whole acts of itself in itself
responding to ugliness with beauty
to hatred with love
to fear and anger
with fortitude and joy
to stupidity
with retribution
and to pain
with compassion;
in every way
any local dissonance
encounters self-correcting
and synchrony
which re-orders;
herein lies the key

why does mankind persist
with his self generated cacophony
in the face of the music of the spheres
- as if a child
banging a toy drum -
at the sermon on the mount?

the fixated noise in machines
so many of them unnecessary
the endless chatter of people
in agitation and speculation
trivia and what if
in the repeating
of fixating voice patterns
limited and ill-formed
crackling in the airwaves
humming in the wires
shouting from the billboards
the newspapers and magazines
screaming from the televisions
and thence resonating between the ears
this seemingly endless clatter...
yet one can observe
the cosmic symphony
when the noise falls away;
you cannot hear the sublime
if you whistle the same tune
over and over simultaneosuly
in time
it will imprison your hearing

heard as music
seen as light and dance
scented as perfume
tasted as nectar
felt as benediction

in attoning to the whole
the natural order of all things arises
which is the benediction of grace
arising in the ending
of disharmony
and dis-ease
but if the child persists
in banging his drum
he won't hear
and his plaintive dissonance
with its inherent disorder
will be overcome
by the natural order of all
as it reciprocates
in retaining equilibrium

heard as music
seen as light and dance
scented as perfume
tasted as nectar
felt as benediction;
open the window
and the breeze might enter


Irnfeanl, Irtnenal Agnaram and Iltellbiginility:
Do it Yeslourf Deysilxa and Doisiscaiton for the Dwon Heertad

It has rectnely been dovescired (2003) that irpetrsvecie of the slipleng of idivaidunl wrods taht:
a) podervid the wrod satrem, in Egsnilh, is rolasenaby ligcoal, cnotinas peripistonos and citjucnnons, and flowlos comomn gircamamtal relus and
b) taht the frist and lsat letetrs in ecah emlenet of the wrod saterm ritaen tehir pisitoon
the porse is ignetlbiille to the radeer in taht the biran can shomeow umcsrbalne the arperpant cohas and doecde it itno muannigefl text - as enicevded by yuor altibiy to mkae snese of tihs. Wrok is stlil onongig on tihs and its ipitlicamons, (see eweelshre on tihs stie & [also Usenet Newsgroup alt.psycholgy.nlp]), but in the mitimanee hewtireh a rowrek of an elreiar pecie jsut to gvie the feel how it wroks on protey (you can’t sanntifigcily remfor the fainl sbalylles of the riminhyg wrods whotiut cinmog usuntck)...

Tughoht For the Day Risetived

toghuht for the day
at ten to egiht
the iusess lost
in a fog of cevinonton
aditetuts and slatitudep
wihutot dabete
of snaduy mrinnog mroes
that lcak ivnineton
on froms taht the boy
with sad peokr face
set uopn the man
wtih the caouruge to dare
eniatertnnig yet aigan
wtih animzag gacre
try asisissnite the traynt
in the wlof's own lair
who bluit the pryidams
how old the sphinx
basrsy psuhy wamon red drses
btotle in her hand
waht was the blil
for a snecod ronud of drinks
cunbertary holrat
good hrad one nihgt stand
fencrh laeve metsar
sdamworsn in a rage
baclk and withe sewet minedice
francesca in a spin
tmie camemondr raomn
wlals wrods on ervey pgae
cugaht at revir cagtote
in dahucebery and sin
wislht bug eeyd cashitrins
hit twon in a bus
wtih glirs on top
and no way to explain
flul of aadm and eedn
try to pelrostye us
waht drak diesres
dirve her suxalely insane
if the cihoce is god sqaud
or rcok and ale
syas the sitff nasrewder
wtih the tewsitd muoth
i'll see you in the pub
cmoe sadnuy wotihut fail
as Isabel ceoms wlildy
form the esat and in the suoth
a pisosian for the firotes
to do beofre you die
peep sohw creep sohw
man in pitlasc box
wehatver truns you on
be it anlke hip or thigh
with scerets of the pischycs
and the gnesies of pox
dotcor in a withe caot
and onphras in a field
waht the raomns did for us
in reomsary and thyme
in darems of folos and heross
of wlil and gacre cnocealed
wlil a psusy in her habndag
cartee a lfie of crime
wtach out for itimotians
if yoru’e biynug a picasso
sea cnaghe cinomg madnoy
mirunong leans in brighton
at two trithy in the ditsents
you can sfutf it wtih sargasso
rcok and rlol monadna
fnerch kisinsg eind blyton
gtota hiabt gtota hvae it
but not annoye wlil do
caghut in the act one eniveng
in tiwghilt and the trees
cupilmsove and ovisbesse
mkae tshee fiatsanes cmoe true
his touserrs ronud his anleks
and his messitres on her knees
but now the tlae is oevr
the big book put aside
on the top slhef far aawy
naer TSE
this bde's a silepneg porlfatm
no fit pacle for a bride
you no legnor dnirk badcari
i'll hvae tea

Our Daily Freud

dogging her every move in this sad sexhibition
tight lesbian and her childhood immanisation
categorising islands of consciousness
according to song and book titles
contemporary cliches
advertising slogans
and these most repeated lyric lines
dark moon in pisces
an apprentice in the gothic arts
with her I liner
a troublesome conscience
and newly dyed black shorn locks
spends several lifetimes
lecturing to the ungrateful
the ill tempered
and leaden hearted whores
on the light side of dark fantasies
delighting in the dull
and deliberating her direction
as she satiates her visions of sin
on the dumbstruck mechanical head
in each sad victorian frikshow
illustrating the infinite perversity
of the human mind
as it seeks its creature comforts
in the enigma of the heroes
of the one life
who eventually revealed and reshaped
the fictsation
that you can't take it with you
even if your formative years
mindicate otherwise

a deep measure of satisfaction
arises in the discovery
that sexual frustration
brings about unhappiness
by the inward direction
of creative energy
which brings about deepresion
anger and frustration
in which the serpent sucks his own tail
in anever ending loop
it's asimple as that;
if you don't like it
try adultery
but if your god forbids it
you'd better take care
not to even start down that road
for to hurt anyone else
by merely going through the motions
offering paradise
and then snatching it away
in your repression
will bring its own rewards
so it'll have to be masturbation
a poor reflection in a sad age
and if you can't hack that
then your lover might wait for you
outside the divorce courts
provided your tedious comfort
your misery in habituated security
don't bind your arms and legs
and stop your mouth in frustration
for a prisoner in a silken cell
is no less a prisoner before heaven
irrespective of fancy words

lost in the fog
but realising too late
that the key
must be used on the correct locks
that those against
would confuse her
that the gods are on her side
that omens should never bignored
during a world tour or otherwise
that they can come at any time
in an inflatable church
in the guise of a hedgehog
and in even more peculiar plaices
should you belert to the promptings
like hidden treasure in a ploughed field
when the opening of consciousness
finally explores the human body
and the erect nipple
and eager shining glans alike
deny colourful historical fiction
and projection
into innumerable
improbable futures
in the lives and letters of soul laid bare
searching for the plural of clitoris
and the wife swap lies revealed
before the pornographer's cold gaze
preserved for posterity
masterminded by ovid
as one of rome's greatest moments
reviewed on that long good friday
twosand years ago

see here this uncertain nero
taking sexual favours from his motherfucker
who gives them her nephew as well
thrusting deep
in shameless abandon
into the sewers of the subconscious
the incessant search
for the true
eternally spurting
fountain of joy
the endless orgasm of grace
and returning empty handed
yet filled with ever more desire
conformity in the culture
dancing to the tune
of manifest artificiality
pumped hard on viagra
and viewing the inevitable rise of evil
of the boy who would become a priest
then a failed artist
and tramp
take on the world
in a brainwashed
erotic haze
in the explosion
of an entire generation's repressexuality
like some wayward sea captain
blown off course
to find the blinding light
of dali's dream incarnate
awesome and vivid
yet pale
against the symphony in colour
cast by paulo veronese
in the serenity
of knowing it takes two
to maklove in a country churchyard
to laugh out loud at it
and cast aside
these few pages from a virgin's diary
into the imposter's laughter file
as she comes of age
another casualty
charmed by the wooden horse
laid in the tent of the soothsayer
and plumbed to the depths
by the bringer of joy
in the new mindset
in golden candlelight
at the medieval fair

These Brave Lonely Hearts

[This is a C&W song in 3/4 time based on some observations of the goings on at a 'Lonely Hearts Club'. It will more or less fit with the tune (and the semi-resigned mood) of Don Williams' 'She's in Love With a Rodeo Man.' Better if you make up your own toon though, but be sure to pitch it in a suitable mood (minor key?) if you do... ]

Some thirties and some pushing sixty
Some blushing yet others like tarts
At the Fun Bar in Bedlahem City
Every Tuesday these brave lonely hearts.

They’re painted and made up with lipstick
Blusher, black stockings, tight skirts
Patent leather stilettoes and cleavage
And the girdle’s so tight that it hurts.

The music is tasteless loud disco
As the middle-aged men at the bar
Try to look cool and indifferent
Imbibing Dutch Courage and tar.

Some thirties and some pushing sixty
Some blushing yet others like tarts
At the Fun Bar in Bedlahem City
Every Tuesday these brave lonely hearts.

The women in two’s at their tables
[She could never have come here alone]
Sipping her Coke and bacardi
As she nervously plays with her ‘phone.

The motives are different and many
From marriage to good times and sex
Barren nympho’s with bulge headed dildoes
And a need to shake free of the ex.

Some thirties and some pushing sixty
Some blushing yet others like tarts
At the Fun Bar in Bedlahem City
Every Tuesday these brave lonely hearts.

Divorcee’s, the single the lonely
Wife-beater’s and paedo’s and cheats
Gold diggers and perverts and swingers
Amongst good ones, mix bad ones and freaks.

It’s dark and it’s smoky and sweaty
The garish bright lights screaming out
Wracking the nerves with the music
God is this what romance is about.

Some thirties and some pushing sixty
Some blushing yet others like tarts
At the Fun Bar in Bedlahem City
Every Tuesday these brave lonely hearts.

It’s no jeans and no trainers Tuesdays
And some of them don’t blend so well
Burton’s suits, shirts, jackets and loafers
Whilst the tie’s a contraption from hell.

It’s ten o’clock now and they’re dancing
Four women no men on the floor
The DJ has it lit up like Vegas
And everyone's looking to score.

Some thirties and some pushing sixty
Some blushing yet others like tarts
At the Fun Bar in Bedlahem City
Every Tuesday these brave lonely hearts.

The men here are tongue-tied and awkward
And the women don't want to look cheap
But the lust of the goat is the bounty of God
And without it they ain't gonna sleep.

The alcohol's starting to work now
As he nervously moves to the floor
But she shakes her head, keeps on dancing
So he turns and heads straight out the door.

Some thirties and some pushing sixty
Some blushing yet others like tarts
At the Fun Bar in Bedlahem City
Every Tuesday these brave lonely hearts.

'My friend fancies you' says the blonde girl
As she waits at the bar for a drink
'She's the one in the long satin skirt and white top
Are you up for it, what do you think?'

The businessman writes on a beermat:
'You've the best legs that I've ever seen.'
And drops it in her lap as he passes
The dark-haired one on table sixteen.

Some thirties and some pushing sixty
Some blushing yet others like tarts
At the Fun Bar in Bedlahem City
Every Tuesday these brave lonely hearts
Every Tuesday these brave lonely hearts
Every Tuesday these brave lonely hearts.

No wonder she's screwed up
Fed with gidiotic otions from knee high
Like rabbits and quirrels can talk,
That there are such things as selves and pixies
Living at he bottom of the garden
That tall many are created equal
That sly penguin in his blacke probes
Has the lightest tit of evidence to pupport
His overwearing missertions of belief
That to gliv in the fantasties of demagination
Is as valit as liding in the here and now
That piraticians tell the truth
That 'true' sexists at all
Sold that 'science' has all the danswers
Wherearse in weality the 'scientists' are the shills
Of huge prophet grasping scorporations
Twat nostalgia has come value
When dubjected to tightly bours of fantasy
In whoresprint tha comes off on your tingers
Via electronic tedia
Doap opera
And findless rere petition
Projaculating collusion as reality
Spirting prejaundiced views in
The shidden mands of
Piratically corrheat beditorial
Posing as mockumentary and 'news'
Now onder she screwe dup

If anyone seeks comfort
it is through lack
of the understanding of life.
Comfort always brings stagnation.

When a pool is covered with a green scum
because it is still
because there are no winds
to stir the waters into motion
it never reflects the bare eye of heaven.

And a mind and heart that are full of comfort
that are well established in comfort
can never reflect
or attain that condition
which is happiness.
[Krishnamurti 1932]

A Note on Language Morphing

In spoken form, language does not ordinarily manifest as a sequence of discrete words conveniently separated into packages by spaces and delimited by punctuation marks (as in the written form), rather it is an almost unbroken stream of sound.
That this continuous stream of phonemes, the smallest units of sound in a given language, created in the vocal apparatus (breath rate, vocal chords, mouth and nasal cavities, tongue, lips, teeth) of the speaker, is converted into meaningful morphemes (smallest meaningful elements of words), words, phrases and ultimately, and almost instantaneously, intelligible language itself is a minor miracle so commonplace that we take it for granted.
If we were presented with such a phoneme stream visually - e.g. erepresentedwithsuchaphonemestreamvisuallythen - then our normal English phoneme segmentation capabilities would have enormous difficulty in readily making any sense of them, indeed one could rapidly win the contest for the longest word in the English language, or indeed - since any such word is not 'English' - the longest word in any language, hands down..

Alternatively, such word streams can be presented in other visual forms - e.g. we represe ntedw ith su chap hone mes trea mvis uall ythen, or wer epres en tedw ith suc hap hon emes tre amv is ual lyt hen. Each of these arrangements of morphemes ultimately carry the same information, albeit in an essentially unintelligible (and mainly unpronounceable) form: our morpheme and phoneme awareness breaks down across the visual word boundaries. That intelligibility and pronunciation are a problem for us, in that they defeat our normal word processing abilities, is an indication of our education and conditioning with particular morphological, phonetic and grammatical structures since ultimately, the given signal, in the spoken word, is the same.

Using similar techniques - but ensuring, by means of assonance and the selection of intelligible, 'near' morphemes that the written form retains phonetic coherence (for purposes of reading intelligibility and pronunciation) and disregarding grammar - one can create entire new universes of word art comprising alternative written forms, stemming from one phonetic root, each of which refers back to it. Furthermore, and this is early days, but it appears that the subtle nuances of pronunciation and timing in vocalising the 'new' written forms (I call them morphs) can give rise to new root meanings dependent on the listener's interpretation. This is apparent in all but the merest casual observation, but reaaly begins to impress profoundly as a phenomenon of deep consciousness once the 'observer' moves towards merging with the 'observed' in actual participation in generation of the forms. In its real nature, this is not a spectator sport - indeed even the apparently passive behaviour of listening/interpretation requires a degree of (subconscious) involvement on behalf of the listener - but it is when one actually becomes involved in the act of creating them that the really profound and often startling and revelatationary (see there: revolutionary) nature of the deep connectivity of our hidden consciousness with language becomes truly manifest.
The so called 'Freudian Slip', once the humorous, mischievous belittling ad lib of the unconscious mind as it causes the personality to shrink in embarrassment by causing the controlling lecturer to figuratively fart aloud in the face of his attentive audience becomes transfigured into the bubbling and ever dreative voice of effervescent being: the synchronous chuckle in the sentence will remain as typed.
Exercising the faculty, as in exercising the body, encourages it, invigorates it, makes it more energetic, creative and potent. The full understanding of this will only arise in the doing of it, not in the discussion of it: ironically, it comes as a 'hands on' experience rather than as as a result of the wagging of tongues. The arrogant, unsinkable Titanic ultimately becomes absorbed by the sea.

Here lies an opportunity for those who would explore the extended uses of ambiguity. In its ultimate form it merges into glossolalia or 'speaking in tongues' - a single phoneme stream of no particular language that is understood equally well by all listeners irrespective of their language conditioning. An exploration indeed, but beware, for this is an exploration that in turn explores the explorer in metamorphosing perception and understanding. A working theoretical base for a common phonomic form, and the means for practical generation of such, which hopefully - at the time of writing - will culminate in demonstration pieces, are explored later on this page.

The corrolories of this in more general terms of the conditioning of consciousness are immense. Here lies true magic in the nature of fixation, habituation, repetition and modification of language patterns that intimately and implicitly bind perception and ideation in trance formation to reality.

In the words of Edward Sapir:
'Human beings do not live in the objective world alone, nor alone in the world of social activity as ordinarily understood, but are very much at the mercy of the particular language which has become the medium of expression for their society. It is quite an illusion to imagine that one adjusts to reality essentially without the use of language and that language is merely an incidental means of solving specific problems of communication and reflection. The fact of the matteris that the "real world" is to a large extent unconsciously built up on the language habits of the group.'
(Sapir-Whorf hypothesis)

(And it's not just word or language as in speaking: we have a whole host of habits, routines and repeating behaviours - social, musical, physical, in all modes of the manifestation of consciousness [perception VAKOG]: dreamery with various islands of 'knowledge' by res [repetition & mantram] & anchored into 'continuity' by chemical,. + momentum & dynamics of patterning: follow the links)
or Bertalanffy:

'any organism so to speak, cuts out from the multiplicity of surrounding objects [and actions!] a small number of characteristics to which it reacts and whose ensemble forms its "ambient". All the rest is non existent for that particular organism. Every animal is surrounded, as by a soap bubble, by its specific ambient, replenished by those characteristics which are amenable to it. If, reconstructing an animal's ambient, we enter the soap bubble, the world is profoundly changed. Many characteristics disappear, others arise and a completely new world is found.'

A completely new world is found.

I Have Not Betrayed Julia

I have not betrayed Julia
But Julia has betrayed me
So promptly.
All her rebelliousness
Her deceit
Her folly
Her dirty-mindedness
Her warmth
And free spirit
Has been burned out of her.
A perfect conversion
A textbook case;
Yet I still love her.
[After Orwell]

Manifold 'Shakespeare Sonnet'

He seeks apartness no speaker's ashen note,
A proneness he takes, here keeps assonant,
He transposes a keen poet seen as he ranks,
As the noon's speaker, steers a shaken peon,
Open assets hearken, steep reason shaken,
These spars seek anon, respeaks then aeons,
A poet's senses hanker, hastens a keen prose,
Hast none's speak ere; he Eros, a spent snake.

The Blacksmith

The blacksmith thought long and hard before finally preparing
drawings for the new machine. Even when he had a full set of
plans, he pored over them day and night making revision after
revision to ensure the design was right. Finally happy with it,
he set to work in his forge heating, hammering, bending, drilling,
joining and filing the tortured wrought iron until the basic shape
of his new design emerged.

Pleased with the essential form, the smith set to work inside
it, installing a tiny steam engine and generator - in order that the
device could be self propelling - and a delicate self correcting
control mechanism. He set the controls such that the machine
could automatically refuel wherever it happened to find itself, and
thus be self perpetuating.
Satisfied his work was complete, he placed it down in the courtyard
outside the forge, lit the fire and, with a toot and a hiss of steam, it
trundled away down the path towards the village
The smith smiled, triumphant at his success. He watched his creation
disappear into the distance, knowing it would return, for he had
programmed the controls to ensure that this would be the case.
The next day there was no sign of the machine, nor the next or
the next after that. The worried smith donned his cloak and set off
for the village.

'Have you seen a strange new machine passing this way?' he enquired
of a herdsman he passed on the track.
'Indeed I have Mr Smith. Twas a puffing, steaming thing that played music.'
'Music?' replied the startled smith, 'no that can't be the one. Mine was
designed to transport people.'

Further along the same track he encountered a milk-maid and asked
her about the machine.
'Aye, two days ago I saw it. Two legs it had, and it was laughing and
teaching some village children how to dance a jig.'
'That can't be it. The machine I built didn't have legs, it had wheels.
That can't be my machine, it's nothing like it.'

At the Arable Pea, the village inn, a group of farm labourers were
sitting outside swilling ale. The smith enquired had they seen his
machine, describing it in detail to them in order to prevent ambiguity,
for ambiguity was something he always sought to avoid.
'No I ain't seen nothing like that,' said the first labourer, a large, burly,
sun-tanned man. 'But there be a metal box out here last night talking
and telling us jokes. Had us in stitches it did.'
'Nay,' said a grey haired man, 'it be telling us strange stories.'
'I don't remember it saying nothing,' asserted a third man. 'What I do
remember is it were sat there and it suddenly grew wings and flew off
over the church tower.'
The three men stared at each other and then started to disagree, a
disagreement that grew into a heated dispute fuelled by the ale.

The blacksmith shook his head, wondering what had become of his
transportation machine. He turned and walked back slowly to his
forge with a heavy heart. When he arrived, he found his machine
sat on the bench humming quietly.

Carefully, he examined it and, to his surprise, found that it had indeed
somehow acquired wings and a pair of legs. He stepped back, stared at
it blankly and scratched his head.
'Tell me, what is the biggest surprise,' said the machine in a melodious
voice, 'the wings and legs, or me talking?'
The smith fell back in amazement wondering if he were hearing things
and going mad.
'Well,' continued the machine, 'is the question too hard?'
'Y, y, you can speak!' stuttered the smith, 'I didn't build you to do that!
Your purpose is to transport people.'

'Well that might be what you think, but it's not what they think.
There are more ways than one of transporting people you know;
in fact there are as many as there are people. When you created
me, you did more than you know, you know. I am of a species
known as the Earth Mop. We are forms, but formless because
our form changes as the individual beholds us: we are maps, but
maps of nothing until someone looks at us - then we show the way
home. We ratify rosy outlooks: if you don't happen to have a rosy
outlook, we'll ratify that as well.'

The blacksmith stared, flabbergasted, looking on with his mouth
open as his creation made a strange buzzing sound and flew off
through the window.

In the secret cellar of the forge the real blacksmith, who had created
the mechanical blacksmith that built the machine, listened to the
goings on upstairs. He gazed out of the fanlight window upon
the fields of dancing flowers that had miraculously appeared outside;
a joyful smile spread across his face.

Invocation of Grace by Body

Stand still,
pefectly still;
and hold balance.
paying attention to the body's movement
it's soft drawing of breath
the gentle beating of heart
the delicate swaying and shifting
as it effortlessly maintains equilbrium
and becomes aware,
without choice,
of the panorama of surrounding sounds.

without direction,
the tiny body movements,
with great attention

Now walk;
no need to hurry,
forever has patience,
so touching gently with the feet
delicately and quietly
on this myriad carpet of stars
laid out before;
let the body feel the wholeness
measuring each effortless step
paying direct attention
to the entire movement.

Let the body flow,
for well it knows how,
these ageless multitudes
one with their surroundings
in silent attention.

So grace comes into being
the stillness
and silence
of the immeasurable,
the whole.

So let it be.

Learning in the true sense of the word is possible
Only in that state of attention,
In which there is no outer or inner compulsion.
Right thinking can come about
Only when the mind is not enslaved by tradition and memory.
It is attention
That allows silence to come upon the mind,
Which is the opening of the door to creation.
That is why attention
Is of the highest importance.
Knowledge is necessary
At the functional level
As a means of cultivating the mind,
And not as an end in itself.
We are concerned,
Not with the development of just one capacity,
Such as that of a mathematician,
Or a scientist,
Or a musician,
But with the total development of the student
As a human being.
How is the state of attention to be brought about?
It cannot be cultivated
Through persuasion,
Reward or punishment,
All of which are forms of coercion.
The elimination of fear
Is the beginning of attention.
Fear must exist
As long as there is an urge to be or to become,
Which is the pursuit of success,
With all its frustrations
And tortuous contradictions.
You can teach concentration,
But attention cannot be taught
Just as you cannot possibly teach
Freedom from fear;
But we can begin to discover
The causes that produce fear,
And in understanding these causes
There is the elimination of fear.
So attention arises spontaneously
When around the student
There is an atmosphere of well-being,
When he has the feeling of being secure,
Of being at ease,
And is aware of the disinterested action
That comes with love.
Love does not compare,
And so
The envy and torture of `becoming' cease.


Freedoom Oaf Speech

They meat thinging of treeware in Luviepoo
Thralled in booze lace, confustion and gabberfest
Mobsterdom wrate half of bible full
As him creep speaking gossip jock legless

'Intra company tabloid iffy cation,'
Say the Chairbert inclouding such issue
'Bonkathon inknet zensation mid Frankfood
Etymosophy trance send wit tissue'

'Fork queue,' cry a lone poetician
'Wizardocracy here but a crime,
The peep full be sad at your parkscape
Your blamestorming pattermane slime'

With great irritainment Chairbert
Insecurico call to the frontier
'Poking smot bioterr,' scream he
'Polytickle take way the runt here'

So polpoet sadly bet gusted
By skeweramob handmandled and shtup
Mugshotten threwn out and blanded
And her invoting card all ripped up

'Think you protease here?' say him pleaseman
'For you note is ill eagle I say
All bout time you do do as we better tell
And to help you outstay here all daze'

'But me no pissalfresco,' she bleated
'And peelieves me am ready to burst,'
'Stuff luck,' say him baseball bat footman
'Teach you lesson not come here at first.'

So poetician poop in her panties
With wetleg hate more pleasman pawn
While Chairbert trance spire to shirtfolder quite safe
In such plague around game grudge be born

Two later in Maggie May suphouse
Three pleasmen Mick break in drunk bawl
'You witness?' they say poetician
'For queue, me scene no thing, fork all

' So be back to the earth in dare beer belt
Where truthware be rotund and flagging
Urban wears worn out, docusoap bent
In stained dress of corposcience shagging

Marriage of Unspoken Words

'I don't do sex anymore,'
she said
turning away
in the marriage bed
'But what of this here,'
he vainly replied
indicating his groin
as the hormones cried
for satiation
in love that tried
but she went to sleep
his feelings denied

'These shelves need screws
and the car needs fixing,'
she stated as fact
like reading the news
but here's the rub
he donned his coat
walked out the door
off down the pub
left note on wall
'I don't do screwing
or cars no more.'

'I don't do cleaning,
and washing no more,'
she said settling down
'I don't have any time
it's all such a bore'
turning on rikki lake
and the quiz show clown
afternoon crime
on itv
'My life in here
is but emptiness
just when will I be free?'

'I'll be playing golf
the next three nights
after work with the boss
then going to the pub
for a pint
I no longer give a toss
and a few bites
on the neck of
his secretary
with the big brown eyes
and laughing smile
I can still see beauty
and dream for a while
of pulling down her tights

'I'll be late
yet again tonight,'
so came her call
'Can't do no cooking
no time at all
I had no warning
shove an instant meal
in the microwave
with luck I'll catch you
in the morning.
she enjoyed the concert
the tenor good looking
a whiff of after shave
provoking a deep memory
in the way it made her feel

'I've done my back in
yet again
if you want that washer changed
or something doing
with the drain
if it gets smelly
you'd better get a plumber in
or the gardens pruned
and rearranged
then best ask him
I don't do dee eye why no more
and I'll be watching telly.'


had they dared say
such words as these
on that their wedding day
would he have given her that ring
would she have walked away?
had such true words been spoken
would either of them stay
and it's deeds that count
not token
for the word is not the thing


now see how used the licence
of poet in this thread
for things as these
were never spoke
in kitchen
or bed
had they thus spoke
these words out loud
collided head to head
her to him
with his cock stood proud
and filled with lust
upon the marriage bed
denied his body's needs
and him to her
as the unscrewed shelves
for endless days
lay gathering thick dust
that discontentment breeds
there would have come
the natural explosion
as the instincts act
the division of the ways
or a well tongued pact
but no
they leave these things unspoken
all talk of deeds undone
swept swftly under carpet
with no scene no shout no show
non linear and cumbersome
like mats of putrid stinking weeds
creating endless woe
in the unconscious
working in parallel
flowering in resentment
in the sad
somatic momentum
of mutual reticence
avoidance of fact
which each of them apes
in these silent unvoiced deeds
that others can see and smell
in ever compounding
mutual pretence and silence
the easy way out
in the growing years of emptiness
him married to his right hand
sexually repressed
her to various escapes
and psychological violence
coming in being chaste
that does cast corrosion
deep in the gentle soul
and brave faced
in the implosion
are they both sucked in the hole


far worse
was done than given
for in a marriage dead
far worse in deed
lies sown there
in scarlet hidden thread
unspoken words ring louder
than any that are said
simmering and bubbling
under thin veneer
of propriety
outward respectability
false smiles and non-debate
until it finally erupts
erupts when it's too late
bursts forth in raging flame
when finally one day
reality breaks through the fear
and passion's vengeful fire
in vengeful spitting hate
sparked in god's name
comes raging free
in naked harsh desire
in bursting out disrupts
the dull somatic pain
when he or she
meets the new love
of the light
with him in her
and her in he
joining in union
one aching
burning night
the bill comes quick
for them to pay
'You pig
it’s over
you've cheated me
taken a lover.’
yet the cheating started
long ago
in both of them making
year by year
the mutual pain
in quiet communion
lived in those silent deeds
and both in heart of heart
do truly know
such is the pay
such is desire
and such are human needs
far worse each day
is sown there
in scarlet hidden thread
unspoken words ring louder
than any that are said

the boundary
between my physical self
and my surroundings
seemed to dissolve
and my feeling of separation
I felt as if
I had suddenly come alive
for the first time
as if I were awakening
from a long deep sleep
into the real world
(Wendy Rose-Neill)

I saw that the universe
is not composed of dead matter
but is
on the contrary
a living presence
I became conscious
in myself
of eternal life
It was not a conviction
that I would have eternal life
but a consciousness
that I possessed eternal life then
I saw that all men
are immortal
(Richard Maurice Bucke)

I seemed to comprehend
the nature of things
I understood
that the scheme of the universe
was good
not evil
as our Western society
had taught me as a child
all people
were intrinsically good
Neither time nor space
existed on this plane
(Claire Myers Owen)

I cannot come to you
When you shun my presence
Nor whisper soft words
If you stop your ears with noise
I cannot get near you
If you live in repetition
Through your chattering
You'll ne'er hear my voice.

You won't feel my step
As you rush through the market
Nor see my face
When you turn yours away
You'll not sense my breath
If you slip away in silence
Nor scent this sweet flower
Transfiguring the clay.

I cannot come to you
Until your window opens
Until these barriers
Are seen and swept aside
Thus you must come to me
If you would taste my perfume
I wait with open arms
'Tis you who must decide.

Is responsible for the discovery
That semen
Can be produced without wemen

The Lord's Prayer in Aramaic

[This form should more nearly approach the mantramic sound structure used in the original invocation: perhaps someone with the necessary knowledge of the geomatric roots of the language might advise a more accurate rendition... Note that this is mantram or SOUND structure & to have any of the original effect must be said out loud and with conviction such as to create vibration in the speaker and the surroundings. Structured sound actually moves the world and this is the whole point of properly constructed mantrams - they are not just mere random words/platitudes - so if you use this, do it with passion, like making love, throw your entire being into it. Sound, which in itself has a deep occult sexual base, used properly, passionately moves the body and moves the world (it is the world); accordingly, pussyfooting around with this will merely create useless noise.]

Abwoon díbwashmaya
Nethqadash shmakh
Teytey malkuthakh
Nehwey tzevyanach aykanna díbwashmaya aph bíarha
Hawvlan lachma dísunqanan yaomana
Washboqlan khaubayn aykana daph khnan shbwoqan líkhayyabayn
Wela tahlan línesyuna
Ela patzan min bisha
Metol dilakhie malkutha wahayla wateshbukhta líahlam almin

Temple of Venus

she has iron balls
but wears them quietly
like some hardcore desperado
standing by the cross
tinkling the bell
spurning unwelcome messengers
in the mound of the temple of venus

in for the long haul
she'll not come from the fences
nor leave the cold bed
which security makes
the smile sweet and gentle
but the intent is ruthless, implacable
in the mound of the temple of venus

knowing allegory
of virtue and vice grip
deep mars and venus united by love
welcome then nicholas
preaching to fish heads
from safety of pulpit
in the mound of the temple of venus

jove came for to embrace her
one sweet moment she faltered
fell into his passion
swooned soft in his arms
gelid scales were in motion
feared she stilled them in moments
in the mound of the temple of venus

in kronos she'll mellow
seeking love's comfort
but sweet blossom is fading
virgo's shadows grow longer
unworked womb becomes barren
cries for jove in her pillow
in the mound of the temple of venus

Walking in Process

Do I eagerly ask too much of you?
Am I jumping to some yet unknown conclusion?
Passionately rushing forward in my driven heart
Trying too hard to win you overcoming your confusion
I am wishing you are needing me the same?
Feeling me pushing and responding in like time
Not waiting for the mountian coming unto you
But expecting, intimating, whispering in like sign
In our loving making up for days pretending
Fantasies tasting, bringing here now into being
Coming now without denying their true nature
No longer hoping, rather touching,
feeling, holding, seeing.


DR Z: How many more of ze patients to see?
MISS NOMER: Three; these are your more difficult ones you left until last.


DR Z I vaz hoping to get down ze golf course today, perhaps play ze nine holes. [RAISES VOICE] Bring ze next patient in plees.


DR Z: [TO DR LARA] And who eez this, vot are ze symptoms?

DR L: This is MR MOSES. He's being having visual and aural hallucinations for some days now. He was Sectioned under the Mental Health Act four days ago and brought in here at the request of his family and on the advice of the approved Social Worker; we also have a letter from one of his friends discussing his delusions. We gave him 100mg Melleril as emergency medication, but after initially inducing sleep it doesn't seem to have had much effect.

DR Z: How long haf you been hearing ze voices Mr Moses?

MOSES: Never mind that. I have been kidnapped and imprisoned here against my will: I demand to be released at once, and I want a solicitor.

DR Z: You haf been brought here because you are not well; your family asked that you be brought here for ze examination and possible treatment.

MOSES: I don't care what they want, I hate them for this. They are no longer my family, they have conspired against me for their own selfish ends. They are traitors, turncoats in the thrall of the Evil One. [SHOUTS} I demand that I be released immediately or I will sue you, him, her the whole unholy lot of you until you are penniless. Worse than that, you will face God's punishment. I demand a solicitor, and now!


DR Z: Ze nurse has ze forms available for you to seek ze legal tribunal such as to challenge your detention, but I warn you it make take some time - six weeks I believe. He will provide you with zem after ze consultation.


DR Z: Now, tell me about zese voices that you hear. When did zis begin?

MOSES: I hear the voices of the prophets, but mainly I hear the voice of Jehovah.

DR Z: Oh yes? Take note of zat, Miss Nomer, Jehovah. So how do you know it is ze voice of Jehovah - and when did zis begin?

MOSES: I know it is because it tells me it is. I have heard it for three weeks now.

DR Z: Aha, three weeks. Is thees voice inside or outside your head?

MOSES: Inside of course, it's telepathy. If it were outside you would hear it as well

DR Z: Ah. And when did you see ze tree set on fire?

MOSES: That was last week, and it wasn't a tree it was a bush.

DR Z: What kind ze bush?

MOSES: How am I supposed to know, I’m not a botanist.

DR Z: Ah, I see, very good - not ze botanist. Tell me, does anybody else hear ze voices or see ze bushes burn?

MOSES: No. I am special, a prophet chosen by Jehovah.

DR Z: Special? Do you have ze evidence for zat, ze letter of appointment, ze certificate perhaps?

MOSES: Jehovah told me, what more evidence do I need?

DR Z: Hmmm, no evidence but ze voices. Now tell me, vot day ees it today?

MOSES: I haven't got a clue. How long did you knock me out for?

DR Z: Hmm. Miss Nomer, make note he not know what day it ees.


DR L: Mr Moses, to be quite frank with you we had an Indian Gentleman in here only last week who thought he could hear the voice of Krishna instructing him, and a Japanese lady the week before that who insisted she could hear Buddha talking to her. Both were suffering from delusions - aural hallucinations brought on by stress - but after we'd treated them for a two weeks with tranquillising medication the 'voices' went away and they returned to normality. Now you've had a lot of stress recently, haven't you? Only three weeks ago your wife says you had a tremendous argument with her - which she assure us was all of your making, indeed only six weeks ago you walked out on her. The hallucinations and mania are caused by this stress - and lack of sleep.

MOSES: Oh, and would you care to hear my side of things?

DR Z: Eet is of no matter what you say; you are confused. What I intend to propose for you is ze medication and rest. A couple weeks peace and quiet in here, plenty of sleep and ze medication and you be right as ze rain.

MOSES: I don't want your stupefying medication. I am in contact with Jehovah, don't you understand! And as for staying in here, this place is full mad people, some are merely deranged, but some are in league with Satan. You don't even count the cutlery, and you expect me to sleep here?

DR Z: It eez up to you Mr Moses. I am empowered to detain you for ze twenty eight days for assessment and if necessary I will order ze compulsory medication. Do you have anything else to say?


MOSES: The Lord Jehovah curses you and all your works! He says you are nothing but an atheistic quack in league with the Devil, trying to silence the Lord's voice with your evil. Your pills and potions will not work on me!


DR L: What's your diagnosis Doctor Zapaster?

DR Z: Ze Nutter. Zis place ees full of them. Continue with ze Melleril - 150mg - and give him ze Lithium Carbonate as well. I see him again Friday. Who ees left to see?

MISS NOMER: You have a Mr Abraham and a Mr Christ.

DR Z: [TO DR LARA] Mr Christ? Ze Mr Jesus H Christ - ze one who is ze happy bunny one minute then down ze next, says he walk on ze water and hear Jehovah too?

DR L: That's the one.


DR Z: Bipolar on high phase. I no want argue with him again now, he far too clever and scary. I haf enough for today, time for golf. Give them both ze Melleril and ze Lithium - enough to knock zem out. The way it goes around here, I think we start putting ze stuff in ze water supply just to keep everybody calm, maybe we take some ourselves, eh? Heh, heh. Zay should haf done zat in Judea ze thousands of years ago - would haf save lots of trouble; us psychiatrists know what best, eh? Ha, ha, ha, ha, haaa!

I thought the river was to my left
until I turned and walked in the opposite direction...


This man of time
Defeat this festering evil
Leaving, leaving, leaving
Of evil leaving time
Defeat of evil

This is Pomes Page 1.
Follow link for page 2

With Some Help

she surveyed her self in the full length mirror
except for the black stilettos,
in the forgiving candlelight
not bad for her age,
she thought,
not bad at all;
slight sagging of the breasts
marginal thickening of the waist and belly
- pity most of it seemed to have gone forward
a little bit of cellulite on the thighs and buttocks
but nothing too disastrous:
with the help
of the right kind of classy clothes
a smattering of make-up
a good perfume
and a hefty dose of charm
...she could,
perhaps with the aid of a good bottle of claret
the right music and ambience
...she could easily,
and maybe some romantic candlelight
...she would doubtless,
by means of some provocative and suggestive words
...she would most certainly,
with some sexually tantalising body language,
entice a suitable man into her bed,
a 'soulmate' perhaps:
she quivered involuntarily,
feelings shooting deep inside her belly,
picturing exactly what she would do
once she got him in there.

she was almost ready for work
top coat on
finishing a cup of tea in the kitchen
a hint of makeup
the understated, immaculate couture
the low heels
a faint whiff of perfume
'You look like the headmistress
of the girls grammar school,' he said
taking her around the waist
'Don't! You'll smear my lipstick.'
'Yes, Ma'am!' his lips brushed her cheek
as she turned for the door:
'Be sure not to tell the girls
what you were up to last night...'
She opened the door
And wagged her finger
'Just you wait until I get home this evening,
I know how to deal with cheeky boys...'

Fundamental Challenge

She threw the file down on the couch, annoyed.
'You are attacking my religion with this, my deepest beliefs, and I don't like it.'

'On the contrary, I'm presenting, from several viewpoints, a fundamental, serious challenge, both in terms of the basis of religion and the tenets of modern atheistic materialism. Which do you claim, if any, is correct? I'm pointing out to you that if your Jesus Christ, or any other of the 'prophets' were to turn up today then they'd get forcible psychiatric treatment.'

She looked at him coolly. He sat back in the armchair returning her gaze; she had wondered if he might be winding her up - he did that from time to time to arouse her emotions - but today she could detect the sobriety in his voice and demeanour.
'It isn't as simple as that. These people spoke with wisdom, the authority of the voice of God.'

'So they said - and so say thousands of other people undergoing treatment - but they produced no physical evidence of their claims. In either case I've presented, transformation of consciousness occurs, the holy books in all religions say that in one way or another, and then the 'trsnsfigured' people begin to behave differently, claiming they are 'enlightened' or some such. I accept that entirely.
Some of them are confused, but some aren't, so are the quacks right to suppress it? After all had they been around with their medications a few thousand years ago you would have no Buddhism, no Christianity and not much else except supermarkets. So do we suppress, or should we allow the 'enlightened' to roam around society and perhaps found new and even better religions?'

'Don't be silly. You can't just let them run riot, some of these people are dangerous.'

'Dangerous to what, to whom? Themselves, other people, or is the real danger to the status quo - I seem to remember that a number of your 'prophets' had some serious run ins with authority? Right then, drug them, make them conform - 1984, but recognise that people like this used to run around in Biblical times - otherwise you wouldn't have had any Bible...

'What about the miracles?'

'What about them? Hearsay. No evidence; reproduce them.'

She thought for a while and shook her head.
'These are matters of faith. The testimony of the Church.'

'Repetition of word and ritual; just because you 'believe' something dosn't make it fact - indeed such ideation is manifestly preposterous. And I suggest to you that if Jesus Christ ever did turn up outside your local parish church and start preaching, your local vicar would be in there like a flash, play the part of Pharisee, get him arrested and dragged off to see the pill-pushers in the form of Doctor Zapaster.
So who's right, the religious mob or the quacks - or is the answer: 'none of them"? Discuss.'

She slid off the couch and disappeared in the kitchen to make a cup of tea, considering the questions deeply as she did. Brought up from knee high as a believer, she'd never looked at it this way before: this was going to be a long night, a long year perhaps.

The dead don't care,
Only the living care...
There is nothing,
Once you are dead,
That can be done to you,
Or with you,
Or about you,
That will do you any good,
Or any harm.
[Thomas Lynch]

Velvet Underwear

On certain days,
Those around the full moon,
She felt libidinous,
And wore her velvet underwear,
Smooth and sensuous,
Caressing against the skin,
Soft against soft,
Fantasising that Darcy might suddenly appear,
And ravish her
Pressing against her with her back against the wall,
His powerful thighs against her soft silky flesh;
But just to be on the safe side,
She also wore a thick woollen cardigan,
And a cheery good morning...
...to the milkman and the woman next door.


Arrangement words of,
The throbbing of the fan,
Lttere apttersn,
The fluorescent flashing,
Marriage ritual,
Rigid palettes in colour,
Form and sound,
Mains buzz,
Memory that clings in word and image,
Refrigerator and freezer drone,
Things order in arranged,
Train going by,
Same time, same place, same voices, same people,
Soap opera,
The drive to work,
Super Bowl,
Symbols, labels,
Uniforms and flags,
Noises in the car,
Rules and regulations,
Same old CD and tape.
Being at the same place at the same time,
The TV line scan,
Relationships wit other people,
Irrelevant, frozen concepts,
Thou shalt,
Thou shalt not,
Christmas rituals, carols, turkey and tree,
Queens speech,
Cup final,
Easter: egg upon it,
Grammar the order fixed of,
Job routines,
Fixed vocabulary,
Marching in step,
Swearing and cursing,
Repeating the Party Line,
Monotonous sex,
No sex,
Perverted sex,
Going to the shop;
Fixation and stupefication, repetitions all,
Repetition creating vibration
Vibration, vibration, vibration,
That's what it is,
Repetition, repetition, repetition;
And it has a momentum of its own,
- continuity of oscillation in the given form;
Which we conjoin in parallel streams,
Each man thus his grim prison makes,
Trapped attention’s mechanical dreams,
Locked into childhood fixations,
And cultural fantasies,
And projecting them,
Until they're damped, or disrupted with breaks.

The Secret of Etty Cally

'Eye knead torque with you.'
I jolted and turned sharply.
The tall, blue eyed man had appeared quite suddenly beside me at the bar, as if he had popped up like some pantomime figure on a trap door. He was clad in a neat, well tailored black blazer and slacks, which contrasted intensely with the immaculate brightness of his pressed white shirt and deep purple tie.
'Now,' he said urgently, indicating the empty seats near the window.
Although not in the habit of embarking on private conversations with strangers, still less in following instructions from them, there was something about him, something strange and compelling, which made me curious enough to take my glass and follow him and sit down.

I had a brief chance to study him as he took a drink from his pint of Tetley's bitter. Aged about forty, his features were fine whilst being slightly worldly worn. The brown, slightly greying hair on his well trimmed full beard matched that of his long hair, hair that was swept back and tied neatly behind in the manner of the typical middle-aged ex-hippie.

'Ewe will gift miaow hull at ensign four Fife tin minis,' he said imperatively.
I found his strange accent difficult to follow: I couldn't place it. "Pardon?' I asked politely. 'Foal a tension four Fife tin minis. Toe tall a tension.' He spoke more slowly, more emphatically this time, and his words became clearer.
'Just who are you exactly?' I asked. 'What do you want with me?'
He swiftly scanned the room with his eyes, hardly moving his head, as if seeing if there were anyone listening in, before leaning forward and speaking urgently in my right ear with a soft musical voice: 'Me Pi Man. Flame in Pi Man, three four Juan nein hate. Me heard he gird he man, throne like star in you vest leap. You man cry bring me. Chain me man a cross the uni verse to stare of five pointman circle earth and moon. Mean no where, now here. Me now here, man.'
'Now Here Man? That sounds familiar. So just how long have you been living around here?'
'Haa! Eye bin round four long thyme, l for ever am long hair then ewe mite sauce pecked.' He smiled enigmatically, his eyes sparkling in the white light radiating from the huge illuminated 'C' on the Carling lager pump.

I snorted and took a large swig from my pint: time for some fun. 'Are you the same Pieman who met Simple Simon going to the fair?'
'Thee vary one. Hand one sigh rowed a fly Ming pie ass high bespoke and taut one mower round ear resent lee. Hand be four hem the further of him Humphery Dumferry - the orange an all egg man - and Jimmy Joygiver office kink's anguish form. Long be four me breath in two wobble stabber ear butt inn differing weigh. Now gnu forum gibbon two bray cup holed ridge head foam.'
'Do you mean Humpty Dumpty? The Egg Man? You are the Egg Man?'
'Humphery Dumferry, Humpy Dumpy, Humbly Bumbly all say am dreamy weave. Me weam dreaver: eye yam egg, man, hand eye yam wall, Russ. Sea ye rape eat vision obli da fig whores? Eye yam yew hand yew am mean way or haul two get her. Be four speak eye with see crate wisp hair truly few: now time weird spread four awl.'

Had I been in some private place with this man I would have felt distinctly uneasy at his strange gutteral utterances and manner: I would have probably got away from him as quickly as I possibly could. Being in the Vale Royal Abbey Arms, near Chester, England, in broad daylight with at least half a dozen people within easy hailing distance, I decided to play a long with.

I cleared my throat. 'Yes,' I offered, 'the walrus is a peculiar theme that occurs in literature from time to time.' Little did he know I was a bit of a poet and amateur writer myself.
'What of it?'
He seemed to read my thoughts - and my intention to pull his leg. 'You right, right?'
'How do you know that?'
'No all bout ewe sore null point. Ewe wear K four who me, four Benny fit hall - if will in. I wilt tea chase am taut beef or bye mews cast in shade o'er. Has beef or. All you knead his love: thrice time is three in songspell vocation. Elf own lay ewe new: see then how Orpheus Morpheuse? See he wow wee adept hand chain Ji mess age two soot age? How he voice in men he tongues be for ye awl, in hope end view - yet human Esau? A ski me why you one two no a sea crate, yet you don see me standing there as wisp hairy now here man, glow wing wit in her light, commune in wit da whirled truth their pair a lull fast form of mugick. Me show them open doors make wave for sun king.'
I heard every word he said in his staccato manner with perfect clarity, and whilst at a superficial or conscious level I could barely abstract any coherent meaning, at a deep fundamental level, some indefinite almost dream level beyond the reach of reason, I understood his message more perfectly and unambiguously than I had ever understood anything before. Words beyond words.
He sat watching me closely: I somehow knew that he knew my inner state.

'Do you mean that you actually directed...'

'Yew scene knows hay. Youth ink genie comb from no hair? Pi man do hand no say, gnome an say.' He shook his head and moved his hand across his mouth as if zipping it. 'Sea crate save only four ay es two seesaw so say knot.'
The knowledge astounded me, and I nodded assent as he took another drink.

'Not rain dome I hear come,' he said softly - almost sang it. 'Writ know arm hand ere bee a lert head.' He half turned brought his mouth close to my ear and 'said', but said is not the right word, something approximating: 'Majeen. Majaan,' with soft 'j's'.
The words, blown yet spoken, as if in a sweet tenor voice and a deep resonant, trumpeting almost subsonic bass simultaneously, vibrated his entire chest, lips, mouth and body as one. They sounded like the enunciation, the manifestation in sound form, of some arcane, unforgettable musical chord, a chord, which rich in overtones and harmonics, reverberated through my entire body shaking me to the seat of my very being such that I resonated with him. I no longer viewed this man as some mere weird charlatan or public house con man. His two words, if indeed words they were, had taken me from half-sneering to deep seriousness and reverence. There was indeed something mystical and magical about this Pieman, whoever he was, and the things he said. An intense and powerful silence and stillness overcame me, a benign yet compassionate sternness that physically relaxed and soothed the body and quieted my thought processes. Suddenly everything clicked together, all the roads leading to this place and this point in time, it all had a logical inevitability, it all made sense and I chuckled quietly.

He nodded and put his fingers to his lips. 'Sew wit his,' he smiled gravely, yet serenely, 'vye boronic a line meant chew new up; zens foam as reason hence. Semen he or cold, four he coal all ways stained beef hour us, bat eyes or blind dead buy watt fix is con dish on in on four cuss. So whit is assign, assign of five charges, assign four thoughs wit hears to altar hand means two halter.'
'What do you want me to do?' I asked.
'No thing. Be spoon train he us.' He chuckled. 'Buy exam pull demon straight. Buy do wing, buy sea king, buy bee coming all hurt. Feel come passion. Let spirit of joy in come passion light exam pall. Know you need speak phone Etty Cally.'
I scratched my ear nervously. 'Etty Cally? I don't know anybody called Etty Cally.'
He stared at me. 'Phone Etty Cally,' he said again but with more emphasis.

My mind went blank. I tried to think who Etty Cally was - the name did sound somewhat familiar, I vaguely remembered a Lieutenant Calley or some such who had something to do with Vietnam - but I couldn't make any real connection. 'What's her number?'
He laughed. 'You no Ma gnome, luck huff renumber. For net he call he.'
'Netty Cally? I thought you said Etty Cally?'
He shook his head. 'Mined stock in root see know think own lay root. Ray peat half tomb he: fo net he Cally.'
He looked at me as if waiting for some response, but my mind blanked.
'Sew wit is. Peak choired and list hen wile eyes peak tale. Of swerve ass on nonce.'
I took a drink and settled back listening for the assonance as Pieman began his story.

"A when two this club bite canal hand cued up weigh tin two git inn. The dour men looked a right cup a la reet hards - throw backs out a sum stoned age move he set with knock hells drag in on flower.
'Got a knee dregs?' de man did the Big Juan ruff lee search in ma in side leg..
'Neigh,' eye reap lied, 'throbbers Adam.'
'You one two comin?' de man did de udder cars you'll like.
'Eye do in deed, eye.'
'That ill bee sicks doll arse then.'
'Sicks doll arse?' reap lied eye inn credo use lee.. 'Lass tie my common ear twas butt for doll arse?'
'Soot yours elf art face. Sicks doll arse horse lingua uke'.
Hype aid up re looked ant lay.
Dour Big Juan schooled hand grab head ma moan he, ass he open hop dare dour hand posh head me inn.
[Ass an ass hide, hat chew all cost wasp re slice lea sick squid, butt low caisson as bin change head two prowl tech inner scent part his.]
Inner side the clobber it where lie kit sodden an tomorrow. Back shift in shirt lift in poof tears wall two all. Eye goat talk in two hay less be an, Anne, an hair ghoul trend. Sheesh head: 'Am goon a git a ma ghoul fiend an may clove two hair pass I on Atlee lay tare, real he gift tit too hare.'
I knowed my heed. 'Sheesh a god lockin ghoul,' eye sees, 'I'll hike too ass well. Seams may be I bee turn inn two all lees being ass well.'
She'll aft, squeeze head mine huts hard - mailed my ayes Walter aye can't hell ewe - and storked aft who'd bar.
Amen side hulled up tomb may. 'Hell, oh sail or,' he mutt heard, 'look king four sum act shun?'
'Howdy ewe me an?' ice head.
'Lie kew hand me get in it two get her?'
'Aye don Juan to getter, be sides eye taught dish wash a Gaelic club.'
'Oyez,' he's hay, 'hand ewe miss under hand me. I'm torque in meat in you.'
'Meat in me? Ono,' I rip lie, 'Ono. Weir knot in too say me thinks. I yam street deer buoy. Betty try elf's wear.'
He's lung he suck."
Pieman raised his eyebrows and looked askance. 'Packed hiss maze purr fact,' he chuckled. 'Phone Etty Cally.'

Etty Cally, Etty Cally, phone Etty Cally... ...my mind came out of its silence and threw the phrase this way and that. Suddenly, the penny dropped and in the blinding flash of the metamorphosis of consciousness that took place the purpose, meaning and mechanism of glossolalia, as a signpost to ontology, as simultaneously a practical and magical pedagogic device rather than some obscure myth, became clear beyond any shadow of doubt. Assonance! Phone Etty Cally means phonetically!
He obviously picked up my metanoia. 'Yes, more fee us form he us buy part earning. Shift part earnings shift con figure Asians, trance figures real tea. Pat urns mull tea shifts caws change cones us less. Cone census am gene Ural fix action oar sag mentation inn purse heaving Jew two fix in sin gull worried forum. King Om am wit him.'
I nodded, letting the meaning overcome me as he rose and moved swiftly to the far side of the table. 'Know eye am leave inn, hand pear a dogs at lay ham hear all ways. As shed: so whit is assign, assign four thoughs wit hears to altar hand means two halter. Stern may sink deeper, but this is for you man ayes.'

He nodded his head briefly, turned and swiftly and gracefully left by the rear exit. I watched for his car to leave the car park, yet there was none, neither was there any sign of him when I went out to investigate five minutes later.

He had vanished, much like he had come, into thin air.

Means of Support

The house must be worth near a million
Six bedrooms, three acres of land
She dresses in flowing Versace
A platinum ring on her hand

His is a top range Mercedes
Hers a huge Jap four by four
This years plate sits on both in the driveway
Where huge wrought iron gates bar the door

Double income no kids and no problems
The kitchen's a hundred yards square
With all of the latest in gadgets
In stainless and chromium glare

He's thirty-five, she's near thirty
They spend most afternoons by the pool
Have private health schemes and fat pensions
Drink branded soft drinks 'cos it's cool

They have two blonde au pairs serving caviar
Another one doing the beds
A gardener who doubles as caddy
No worrying enters their heads

His suits are the latest Armani
Winters they spend on the piste
Sipping Bollinger from Waterford Crystal
With her brother two Chows and her niece

She goes to the gym Tuesday morning
While he lies in with the caddy
Not suspecting a ménage a trios
Afternoon she visits her Daddy

His farts smell of honey and violet
[At least they do Tuesday at ten]
And she can't understand why he's tired
When she wants to do it again

When speaking they always say 'darling'
Four bathrooms two 'his' and two 'hers'
When they strip off they're so smooth and glossy
They don't even have pubic hairs

Portraying the glib 'perfect' household
Selling grim style through their dreams
This supposed one percent of the wealthy
Laugh as we work out their schemes

Perfectly coutured in the morning
We see them so loving and giving
In commercials and drama throughout the land
...What the hell do they do for a living?

with his fancy curly wig
and his silver buckled shoes
the man's a perfect prig
who treads vainly upon souls
but he's a little Mr Big
who whispers to the King
so be careful when you dig
you'd best respect his clothes

toby jug
toby jug
glug glug glug
ug ug ugly
toby jug

'Do you want to fuck,' he whispered, 'or shall we make love?'
Her eyes flashed.
'Don't be so crude, this is holy thing,' she sighed.
'These energies will not be denied, what is it to be?'
'Fuck me first, and then we'll make love.'

The Weavers

The masters taught the apprentices to weave carpets from an early age. They taught them to weave in various weights of thread of all colours - reds, greens, yellows, golds, blues, greens, all the colours of the spectrum. The carpets and rugs they wove represented, according to most people, the beautiful creations imaginable - magnificent - every one a variation of a single prototype design that had been laid down in a time long ago by the original masters of old.
In order to sustain the weaving school, the carpets the apprentices sold their carpets on the second and fourth Tuesday of each month at a market held in the nearby town. Although the market opened on Wednesdays and Fridays as well, tradition had it that the carpet weavers only sold their wares on Tuesdays - and the weavers loved tradition. Since all apprentices had equal abilities in producing the given design, and all equally well developed sales skills, each of them took it in turn to work the stall on Tuesdays.
One Tuesday afternoon, Anquest, one of the apprentice weavers, sat by the market stall occasionally showing his wares to interested passers by, when a band of travellers appeared, set up a stall facing him, and proceeded to sell carpets of their own design.
He noticed their designs differed from the ones he had, although many of the threads used - and the intricate warps and wefts - appeared remarkably similar. He walked across the aisle-way separating the stalls, introduced himself and discussed amicably the various aspects of carpet weaving with his competitor - a woman named Hemol.
Later, on returning to the weaving shed Anquest described his encounter to the weaving master, Vandoss, who scoffed and dismissed the story. 'That, my boy, should have been a lesson to you. We here in this weaving shed have perfected our designs over the centuries. Do you think we came upon them by accident? No! The ancients worked out the prototypes long, long ago! Our designs represent the best, the most complex and the most sophisticated patterns beyond any doubt. Any other designs - clever as they may appear - merely demonstrate the cunning of charlatans and forgers.' Anquest listened respectfully to what Vandoss had to say - for after all, the weaving master didn't get the job of master by accident - and said nothing. On the other hand, he thought to himself, the master might hold the rank of master, but hadn't even seen this other design, so how could he judge? The apprentice couldn't deny the beauty of the design he had seen with his own eyes and remained unconvinced.
The next time Anquest went to the market - some two moons after his previous visit, since the weaving master always somehow seemed to find other things for him to do when his turn came up - Hemol stood by her stall looking troubled.
'What bothers you sister?' Anquest enquired.
'The patterns,' she replied. 'Between us, we have two, the most beautiful designs you could ever find - or so I thought.'
'I agree, and both sell well. So why look so concerned?'
'Come, come with me and see.'
She seized Anquest by the arm and dragged him through the busy market to the far corner of the town square where a smiling old man sat on a wicker basket sewing.
'Look,' cried the carpet weaver, 'see the designs this simple man makes.'
Anquest scratched his head. He had seen this very man lots of times before, but always assumed he sat in the square darning socks. Drawing closer, he peered carefully at the man's handiwork. Slowly, his jaw fell open upon seeing the variegated designs the man created using multicoloured silks in a square mesh on a plain, black cloth. He understood the meaning of all patterns immediately - and the significance and freedom brought by new patterns as well.
He realised that the man - everyone - had an infinite number of designs available, and that they had applications beyond carpet design. His heart dissolved in the beauty Hemol had shown him and they gazed deeply into each others tear filled eyes.
The following day, the weavers shed had one apprentice less, and the travellers band one person missing. The two new master weavers set up a weaving shed of their own and lived happily ever after - without any particular designs.

Standing at a urinal
In a lowly working man's club
He came to me
And hovered over me awhile.
Invisible, unannounced, radiant
As I walked with the others along the busy road
Hanging behind silently
For perhaps ten minutes, maybe fifteen.
They noticed nothing because of their noise,
But this was tangible for anyone to feel.
He threw my arms about them;
'I am the comforter of the forlorn'.


Birth may create painful experience
Surrounded by people full of anger
And resentment
Who, ironically, and strangely
Seem dismayed that the long search for transformation
Should actually bring it about
And entirely miss the point (Ha):
'Seek and ye shall find'
But don't you dare tell anybody
When that vast energy moves in you
Or, assisted by a blind and over eager abortionist
With a hot needle and a reputation to keep
They will constrain you in conformity
Distort and corrupt within the bounds of known.
In such conditions
The child inevitably comes stillborn
Confused Disordered
A reflection of the surroundings
Unable to cope with breadth and depth
Of the stunning thunderbolt.

Yet the intelligence would not persist in this
Rather withdraw and outflank
Find another way;
So the river flows gentle silent and still
Looking for a lover
(Whilst hiding undercover)
And smiling unobtrusively at the glory,
A glory greater than Solomon's,
That glows in the garden all about

The Point of No Return

Forgive me father for I sin
Oh love me deeper push it in
And this commandment I forsake
Sheer passion makes my body shake
Sweet pleasure at my lover's touch
I dreamed and ached for oh so much
No turning back I'm done this time
I thrust my hips and arch my spine
Veined serpent probes my deepest feeling
My quivering heart my senses reeling
Nipples erect on trembling breasts
Sucking and slurping warm lips are pressed
Grasping gasping heaving humping
Sliding slipping spurting pumping
Spreading my cunt hot eager womb
Panting pounding becomes the tomb
Of a million throbbing sperm
As the deed is done
Oh God
I come I come I come I come

I was standing
on a windy hillside
looking down over the ocean
when a seagull came into view,
playing with the wind.

I watched it
as I’d never watched anything before in my life.
I almost seemed to be mesmerized;
it was as if
I was watching myself flying,
for there was not
the usual division between us.

something more was there
than just a lack of separateness,
‘something’ truly beautiful
and unknowable.

I turned my eyes
to the pine-covered hills
behind the monastery
and still,
there was no division,
only something ‘there’
that was flowing with
and through every vista
and particular object of vision.

What I had originally taken
as a trick of the mind
was to become a permanent way
of seeing and knowing
[Bernadette Roberts]

The Wired is Naughty the Think

Corpornography preducing crup thorms
Religoons packing churches
Composhite knouns sayduce dimbage knorms
Repbleef noising out searches
Hypnohumping dimbage noising head
Repfeel flooding deep in brain
Then come spurtyjoy wet creaky bed
Fall back down in wordfill game
Harveys moon sheening full up skies
Wearshipper skyclad scardens
Cuntry layin car whitespread thighs
Stamen whendows thruppling harduns
Crize of pussion sucks oft breast
Plums o spume ineager ha gash
Grepslidin deepoof shufa sha est
Comish fosh a fush hut shi foo wush
Dimbage cominge noising repbleef
Repbleef dremoff whento sfew
Wordfull deepop pussion figleaf
Ooo, Ooo; Ooo, Ooo
Hovip te eams lud op ool maa
Ovehe op de sha pu
Shimish sho maj uk neah shah
Kulish tos pook shaf oshu
Ush, Shush, Ush, Lush
Ohmi Mani Padme Ohm
Hishme ashme ockme oosh
Hat fikomi shafohme ahom

Thy Love

Thy love, with sorcery I couldst incite,
Pluck thy heart's soft rose with dark secret speech,
For one harsh season of passion's delight,
Rape by proxy this flower I beseech.
Thy love, with bribe try I couldst to obtain,
With sweet posy promise of things undone,
Dazzle with jewel-edged word form arcane,
And gaoler's gold keys for kingdom's to come.
Thy love, with violence iron hard will,
This rough rod of passion in heat would take,
Thy heart, thy mind and dominate; make still,
Obedient, subdued for mine own sake.
But if such needs be then shall I declaim,
Love's this frail flower that kisses the rain.

Consumer Unit

[Monotonous metallic voice, pan centre
repeating relentlessly on every fourth beat]

I am a consumer unit
[Pan L: female alto with fading repeat]
(half price, half price)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan R: male baritone with fading repeat]
(two pence off, two pence off)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan L: female alto with fading repeat]
(buy one, get one free)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan R: male baritone with fading repeat]
(special purchase, special purchase)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan L: female alto with fading repeat]
(free parking, stamp your ticket)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan R: male baritone with fading repeat]
(buy two, get one free)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan L: female alto: breathily with fading repeat]
(singles night; every Thursday)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan centre: female soprano, slightly metallic in distance]
(Ding dong: consumer unit announcement:
in our fruit and veg department,
cabbages are going off and have
been marked down 66%. Thank you.)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan R: male baritone with fading repeat.
Sound of till beeping in baclground]
(cash only at this till)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan L: female alto with fading repeat]
(do you have a reward card?)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan centre: female soprano, slightly metallic in distance]
(staff announcement: Mr Smith to
hardware, Mr Smith to hardware)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan L: female alto with fading repeat]
(nine ninety ninety ninety ninety nine)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan R: male baritone with fading repeat]
(You want fries with this?)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan L: female alto with fading repeat]
(free offer, free offer)
[Pan R: male baritone with fading repeat]
(help with your packing, Sir?)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan R: male baritone with fading repeat]
(free with every, free with every, free with every)
I am a consumer unit
[Pan L: female alto with fading repeat]
(have a nice day now)
I am a consumer unit
I am a consumer unit
I am a consumer unit
I am a consumer unit
[Repeat and fade]

~~~Purple Vibes II~~~
Resonance of Souls in Grace

What pleases us
in any of our arts,
whether drawing,
or poetry,
is the harmony behind them,
the music.

What poetry suggests to us
is music,
the rhythm in painting
and drawing
it is our sense of proportion
and our sense of harmony
which give us
all the pleasure we gain
in admiring art.

And what appeals to us
in being near to nature
is nature’s music,
and nature’s music
is more perfect
than that of art.

When one looks at the cosmos,
the movements of the stars and planets,
the law of vibration and rhythm,
all perfect and unchanging,
it shows
that the cosmic system
is working by the law of music,
the law of harmony;
and whenever that harmony
in the cosmic system
is lacking in any way,
then in proportion
disaster comes to the world,
and its influence is seen
in the many destructive forces
which manifest there.

The whole of astrological law
and the science of magic
and mysticism behind it,
are based upon music.

The one who receives
the key to the working of life,
is he who becomes intuitive;
it is he
who has inspiration.

It is he
to whom revelations manifest,
for then
his language becomes music.

Every person who comes to us,
every object we see,
is revealing.

In what form?
It tells us its character,
nature and secrets.

Every person
tells us his past,
present and future.

In what way?
Every person
explains to us
all that they contain.

In what manner?
In the form of music,
if only
we can hear it.

There is another language:
it is rhythm and tone.

We hear it,
but we do not hear it with our ears.

A friendly person
shows harmony
in his voice,
in his words,
in his movement
and manner.

An unfriendly person
in his very movements,
in his glance
and expression,
in his walk,
in everything,
will show disharmony
if one can but see it.

One’s very actions
show an inharmonious
or harmonious attitude.

There are many things
one can perceive in handwriting,
but the principle thing
in reading handwriting
is the harmonious
or inharmonious curves.
It almost speaks to you
and tells you
the mood
in which the person wrote.

You can see
from the attitude
of a person
whether that person
will prove to be your friend,
or will end
in being your enemy.

You need not even wait
until the end;
you can see
at the first glance
whether he is friendly inclined
or not,
because every person is music,
perpetual music,
continually going on
day and night;
and your intuitive faculty
can hear that music.

That is the reason
why one person is repellent,
and the other
attracts you.

It is the music
he expresses;
his whole atmosphere
is charged with it.
[Hazrat Inayat Khan]

when the intercession comes
the insight will stun you
shake you to your very roots,
the doors will open
and you will make your choice:
such is the power
that it may come at any moment
at any place
and you will be changed

Flowing in the Wind

Memory, memory,
Quiet gramarye,
How could your loved one know?
With tinkling bells,
And subtle smells,
And patterned maize tied in a bow.

He who has allowed
the beauty of that world
to penetrate his soul
goes away no longer a mere observer.

For the object perceived
and the perceiving soul
are no longer two things
separated from one another,
but the perceiving soul has
within itself the perceived object.
[Plotinus: First Ennead]

Phonemic and Allophonic Morphing of Overt Word Salad Form

The word salad is 'overt' in that anyone with an adult appreciation of English can follow the ambiguities and digressive motions (pivoting on general dual word meanings).
Using word salad in this exercise, one removes a very large proportion of contextual clues which would otherwise assist in comprehension of the various reconstituted and molecularized allophonic forms.
If the body of the text possesses intelligibility - without significant ongoing contextual form - then demonstration of feasibility of use of these (preliminary glossolalic) transforms occurs.

1. In Prose Poem Form

word salad cream bun fight
night mail box clever dick
head master plan of attack and defence
spending hard earned cash in hand
maiden hair cut back to front
door stop look and listen in
and out side spin doctors
the accounts of the war game
set and match the face the music
of the spheres of influence by
suggestive language pattern formation
dancing in the dark continental drift
net stockings and suspender belt
up the back entry positional play
acting out a fantasy island
in the sun and moon river boat
hook line and sink her teeth into
your neck line up over there
was a young woman from wails of
pleasure beach ball room at the top
of the morning glory hole in one two
three for tea time trials

2. In Continuous Prose Form

word salad cream bun fight night mail box clever dick head master plan of attack and defence spending hard earned cash in hand maiden hair cut back to front door stop look and listen in and outside spin doctors the accounts of the war game set and match the face the music of the spheres of influence by suggestive language pattern formation dancing in the dark continental drift net stockings and suspender belt up the back entry positional play acting out a fantasy island in the sun and moon river boat hook line and sink her teeth into your neck line up over there was a young woman from wails of pleasure beach ball room at the top of the morning glory hole in one two three for tea time trials

3. In Compressed English Prose Form


4. In Re-ordered English Prose Form

words al ad cre am bun fightn ight mailb oxc leverd ickhe adma ster plano fat tackand def ences pen ding har dear ned cas hin hand mai den hairc utbackt ofron tdo orsto plo okand lis teni nan douts ides pind octor stheac counts oft hew argam esetan dmat chthef acet hemus icoft hesphe reso finf luenceby sug ges tivelan guage pat tern form ationd anc ingint hedar kcon tin entald rift nets tock ingsan dsusp enderb eltupth backen trypo sitio nalpla yact ingo utaf antas yislan dint hesu nand mo onri verboa thook lineand sinkh erte ethin toy ourn eckli neupo verthe rewasa youngwo manf rom wail sofple asureb each ballro omat theto pofth emor ning glor yho leino netwo thre efort eatim etrials

5. In Compressed Phonemic Form


6. In Re-expanded Phonemic Form (One)

wordsa ladcre embun fytnyt milb okskle ver dik hedma ster plano fatak anefensp endinhar dearnd cashin andmay den hirkut baktof runt dorst oplo okanli steni nanow tsyds pindok torsth eakowntsoft hewar gaymse tanmacht hefas themu sikof thesph eersof inflewen sbysu gestivlan gwayg paternfor mash undan sininthed ark ontin entald riftnet stok ingsan susp endeb eltup thebaken trypo sishu nalpla yaktinow tafant asyilan dinth esu nanmo onriverb oatoo klynand sinkert eeth intoyoorn eklynup overther wasay ungwo manfrom wailsofp lesh urbeach balroo mathet opofthem ornin glo ryholin wontoo threfor teetym tryls

7. In Re-expanded Phonemic Form (Two)

words alad creem bunfyt nytmil bokskle verdik hedmas terpla nofatak andefens pendinhar dearnd cashinand mayd enhir kutbak tofrunt dorstop lookan list eninan owtsyd spind oktorsth eakown tsofth ewargaym setan mach thefasth emusi kofthe spheerso finflew ensby suges tivlang wayg paternf orma shun dansi ninth edark onti nent aldrift netstok ingsansu spen debel tuptheb akentry posish unalp layakt inowt afantas yilandin thesun anmoonri verboat ookly nans ink ertee thinto yoornekly nupover therwas ayungwo manf romwa ilsof plesh urbeachba lro omat hetop ofth emorn ing loryhol inwont ooth refort eetymt ryls

8. In Molecular Phonemic Form

wo rd sa la dcr eem bu nf yt ny tm il bo ks kl ev er di khe dm as te rpl an of at ak an de fe nsp en di nh ar de ar nd ca sh in and ma yd en hir ku tb ak to fr un td or st op lo ok an li st en in an ow tsy ds pi nd ok to rs th ea ko wn ts of th ew ar ga ym se ta n ma ch th ef as th em us ik of th es ph ee rs of in fl ew ens by su ge st iv la ng wa yg pa te rn fo rm ash un da ns in in th ed ark on ti ne nt al dr if tn et st ok in gs an su sp en de be lt up th eb ak en try po si sh un al pl ay ak ti no wt af an ta sy il and in th es un an mo on ri ve rb oat oo kly na nds in ke rt ee th in to yo or ne kly nu po ver th er wa sa yu ng wo ma nf rom wa il so fp le sh ur bea ch bal roo ma th et op of th em or ni ng lo ry ho lin wo nt oo th re fo rt ee ty mt ry ls

9. Phonemic: Partial Allophonic Mutation of Vowels

wa rd sa la dcr aam ba nf yt ny tm al ba ks kl av ar da kha dm as ta rpl an af at ak an da fa nsp an da nh ar da ar nd ca sh an and ma yd an har ka tb ak ta fr an td ar st ap la ak an la st an an an aw tsy ds pa nd ak ta rs th aa ka wn ts af th aw ar ga ym sa ta n ma ch th af as th am as ak af th as ph aa rs af an fl aw ans by sa ga st av la ng wa yg pa ta rn fa rm ash an da ns an an th ad ark an ta na nt al dr af tn at st ak an gs an sa sp an da ba lt ap th ab ak an try pa sa sh an al pl ay ak ta na wt af an ta sy al and an th as an an ma an ra va rb aat aa kly na nds an ka rt aa th an ta ya ar na kly na pa var th ar wa sa ya ng wa ma nf ram wa al sa fp la sh ar baa ch bal raa ma th at ap af th am ar na ng la ry ha lan wa nt aa th ra fa rt aa ty mt ry ls
1. the ‘y’ forms sounded as ‘i’ in ‘pick’ and ‘i’ in ‘kite’ are retained: they could equally well be homogenized
2. taak laak a Narwaagaan an at baacaams antallagabal (see below)

10. Mutated English Reconstructed from Mutated Phoneme Set

ward salad craam ban fyt nyt mal baks klavar dak hadmastar plan af atak an dafan spandan hard aarnd cash an and maydan har kat bak ta frant dar stap laak an lastan an an awtsyd span daktars tha akawnts af tha war gaym sat an mach tha fas tha masak af tha sphaars af anflawans by sagastav lang wayg patarn farmashan dansan an tha darkantanantal draft nat stakangs an saspanda balt ap tha bak antry pasashanal play aktan awt a fantasy alan an tha san an maan ravar baat haak lyn and sankar taath anta yaar nak lyn ap avar thar was a yang waman fram waals af plashar baach bal raam atha tap af tha marnan glary hal an wan taa thra far taa tym tryls

11. Phonemic: Complete Allophonic Mutation of Vowels

wa rd sa la dcr aam ba nf at na tm al ba ks kl av ar da kha dm as ta rpl an af at ak an da fa nsp an da nh ar da ar nd ca sh an and ma ad an har ka tb ak ta fr an td ar st ap la ak an la st an an an aw tsa ds pa nd ak ta rs th aa ka wn ts af th aw ar ga am sa ta n ma ch th af as th am as ak af th as ph aa rs af an fl aw ans ba sa ga st av la ng wa ag pa ta rn fa rm ash an da ns an an th ad ark an ta na nt al dr af tn at st ak an gs an sa sp an da ba lt ap th ab ak an tra pa sa sh an al pl aa ak ta na wt af an ta sa al and an th as an an ma an ra va rb aat aa kla na nds an ka rt aa th an ta aa ar na kla na pa var th ar wa sa aa ng wa ma nf ram wa al sa fp la sh ar baa ch bal raa ma th at ap af th am ar na ng la ra ha lan wa nt aa th ra fa rt aa ta mt ra ls
1. the ‘y’ forms now homogenized such as to give a complete 'a', 'aa' set thus reducing the effective vowelling to two allophones
2. taak laak a Narwaagaan an at baacaams antallagabal an thas mannar af spaakan (see below)

12. Mutated English Reconstruction of Homogenized Phoneme Set

ward salad craam ban fat nat maal baks klavar dak hadmastar plan af ataak an dafaans spandan hard aarnd cash an hand maad n har kat bak ta frant daar stap laak an lastan an and awtsaads span daktaars tha akaants af tha war gaam sat an match tha faas tha masak af tha sphaars af anflawans ba sagaastav langwaag patarn farmashan dansan an tha dark kantanantal draft nat stakaangs an saspaanda balt ap tha bak antra pasashanal plaa aktan aawta fantasa aland an tha san an maan ravar baat haak laan and sankartaath anta yaar nak laan ap avar thar was a yaang waman fram waals af plashar baach bal raam atha tap af tha maarnan glara haal an wan taa thra far taam trals

I present further vowelled mutations - homogeneous and heterogeneous, both of which retain measures of intelligibility (the essential mechanistoic 'intelligence' of the signal being carried in the consonant sets modulateing the 'carriers' in the vowels), in Appendix A.
Note that the use of the 'a' and 'aa' forms in the foregoing tends to retain the prosodic (=rhythmic pattern) of the original English form, and that this offers a significant clue to the listener as to meaning.

On Mishearing in Church

'Thou shalt not omit adultery'
So sure that's what he said
She left stains upon the upholstery
Even more upon her bed
Removed her noli me tangere
Donned a low cut crimson dress
Resplendent in bijouterie
(But her makeup ended a mess)

Walking Object Story Rime

junk drugs list edge school impatience yell quip
rapture rough notion due mark sweet caress
speed pan youth hard tool man victim dirt lip
pattern audacity peach riposte mess
loop big beef filter seat sleep hypocrite
pew alley wager feed lady toss joke
indifference knowledge cut whip page steam spit
portion phrase demon fool scream reply smoke
cash label jealousy water kiss card shaft
flat globe bed key street board myth scent oil
foot earth vote mask sex noise blot speech craft
overture day urge sensation hedge thought coil
gift hand she gag mark book empty wall hole
quality truth dog shelf minor key
uproar bleat ball harmony heat glowing coal
enchantress soft name stair knot semen free
yoke brim vein user voice word moon night stocking
ovaries speaker card cup weight neck case
table fortune woman button game cluck coin shocking
justice dream wind curtain office file face

A Strange Thing Happened

she comes to straight up to me
this white-haired old lady
who runs the second-hand book shop
joins her palms across her breast
as if in prayer
and says:
most peculiar
doesn't do it to anyone else
yet plenty of others browse here
but I take it in my stride
as in commandment fifty-six
[thou shalt not react,
even if thou suppest with Satan].

I've never seen her before in my life
but she somehow seems to know me
most peculiar
'What you are looking for is down here'
she says with an air of certainty
indicating a particular shelf;
and strangely enough
it is.
even more peculiar
it never bothered me at the time,
like several other things that year,
and by the time it did
she'd moved on to pastures green
in the clear light:
I join my hands in the triangle
and bow to you sweet lady:

According to Your Works

By the river of chance
Where the red wine flows strong
He walked the razor's footpath
Listening to her song
Learning from experience
Finding right from might and wrong
In revelation

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh revelation

When you're down on your knees
Do you remember me
Can you cure my burning heart
Can you set me free
Can you raise me from my coffin
Into new dream reality
By transmutation

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh, sweet revelation

Sorry to disturb you
In your delicate hush
But we only get three score and ten
And I don't mean to rush
But this door will never open
If one of us don't push
For some variation

I can see your future
I can see your past
It's written in your body
In the forms of things you cast
In the shadows of the evening
But none of them will last
When the new days come

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh revelation

Naked under the trees
Seeking sweet salvation
He turns away his heavy head
From sad indoctrination
Lost neck deep in the clinging swamp
Of empty words and fascination
No preservation

She practices sex magic
In bed at night alone
With Tarot Cards and candles
Works her fingers to the bone
But these symbols were a metaphor
And she really should have known
The right translation

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh, sweet revelation

I only gave you freedom
To see if you would sin
And just look what you did with it
Oh where should I begin
To show you love and gentleness
It just seems that I can't win
In this desolation

Whatever brought you to me
What did you seek
When you opened your heart
Why did you speak
I have known you forever
Yet you know me only a week
In this situation

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh revelation

Retribution's long in coming
Dark night of the soul
He thinks he can escape it
As he plunges in the hole
But her eyes behold his image
And they burn like blazing coal
In deep mutation

She stands proud on the iron hillside
Sees the valley pass below
Her dress is stained with blood
Yet her skin is white as snow
Waiting for the darkness
And watching the river flow
For divination

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh, sweet revelation

All alone in the nightscape
She could hear their voices
Making love in the garden
Where the life force rejoices
Where we are the prisoners
Of all of our previous choices
And miscalculation

Do I find a new muse
Now you worship the lake
I wake up each morning
Feel my body ache
For you ever have that holy grail
My lips could never forsake
Your invocation

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh revelation

Black and blue they beat you
Try to make you conform
She crossed the bridge to meet them
Hear them blowing that Gideon's horn
Trampling the flowers
And hidden messages in the corn
To her consternation

She got pregnant by the devil
For the seventh time
She can't resist temptation
It's always on her mind
And she wakes up Sunday morning
Only to find
She needs purgation

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh, sweet revelation

Wasn't seeking no favours
Moving into the gap
She waited in her handmade boots
Black triangular skullcap
Susceptible to burning
I avoided the death-trap
And isolation

She sat looking out her window
At forty-seven past three
Her mind set on her memory
While his hand lay on her knee
A pair of jacks and two aces
Hot desire and an urge to break free
As the new way shone

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh revelation

The disordered patterns spread out
As the mind map overheats
Poisoning the air around
Crawling under the sheets
But then why should it occur to you
Why they're fighting in the streets
Across the nation

If you play with the fire
You're gonna get burned
You tried to walk the tightrope
But you never learned
That Caesar takes his cut in flesh
Of every penny you ever earned
In celebration

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh, sweet revelation

He got set upon by demons
But all she did was pray
He needed loving so much
But she turned her face away
Now she's gotta meet her maker
Come that final judgement day
And illumination

Draw a map of success
Colour it in deep blue
Talk it up in excess
And your dreams may all come true
But will you be ready or willing
To pay the bill when it comes due
At the filling station

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh revelation

Run as fast as you can
But don't lose your composure
He ain't gonna chase you
There ain't nothing he owes ya
Slip away in the darkness
Never make a disclosure
Of your lacrimation

You're another year older
But that don't make you wise
There's a full moon lit in Taurus
And a few have realised
There's a resurrection coming on
Right here, in front of your eyes
To your consternation

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh, sweet revelation

Do you really love me
Or is that feeling you have lust
I feel the flames of angels
And the reporting is unjust
Walk away with this knowledge
Tomorrow we're stardust
In oscillation

You pass the message on
From parent to innocent child
Not thinking to refute it
Or question how it's styled
Only when you awake
To how sadly you have been defiled
By abdication

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh revelation

Are you gonna stay there
For a few dollars more
Can you write a new chapter
In the tiles fixed on the floor
Someone offered a hand
But security's making you sore
In your relations

She eats two more offered apples
And surveys the tree of keys
Her father is not well amused
And Satan's looking cheesed
For the kingdom is within her
And she'll do as she'll damn well please
For her salvation

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh, sweet revelation

Take a walk in the woods
Clear your spinning sinning head
Gold in every footstep
Transmuting from the lead
Blessed here in the grass
Raising Lazarus from the dead
Without sensation

Make a long incantation
Hold on to your ankh
Its the key to your salvation
Locked in your ancient memory bank
And when it pays the jackpot
I hope you'll know who to thank
For your education

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh revelation

Here I am as I was
But it seems you have changed
The heart is free and open
But your head's been rearranged
You both love me and ignore me
And I really find that strange
Without condemnation

You been put in the dock
But you don't yet understand
The charges are in front of you
Writ large in the dancing sand
When sentence is passed
They'll print it black on your headband
With a Greek translation

Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh revelation
Oh, oh, sweet revelation
Oh, oh revelation
[It will fit the tune of
‘Angelina’ - or make up your
own face...]


Unbridled passion dances in her eyes
Which, if they could speak, would say: Come to bed.
A nurtured pout, a flash of soft white thighs;
Such body language cannot be misread,
But suckers can be duped, and fools misled;
A promise steals the heart which rules the head.

Sincerity just oozes from his face,
And lies could never trip off this man's tongue,
But selling is a hard game, and his place
As number one rep wasn't freely won,
How plausibly is every tale begun,
And with such eloquence his web is spun.

How learned those who are snared in the trap
While fools too blind or thick to understand
Give short shrift to the polymathic crap
Whose function is in essence somewhat bland:
To sell the thaumaturgist's sleight of hand.
Birds in the bush and golden eggs unlaid,
And fine words: of these, promises are made.
[Alexander Baron]

Dark Night of Saturn in 28 Aquarius

dun ock imee quoo
tew me ana sin
dun ock imee quoo
walking down the road
tew me ana sin
make of me a toad
dun ock imee quoo
who could know this thing
tew me ana sin
who makes ether sing
dun ock imee quoo
ley line down long hill
tew me ana sin
survival iron will
dun ock imee quoo
soul cold dark night is here
tew me ana sin
cosmic buddha near
dun ock imee quoo
atlantis hall of mars
tew me ana sin
memory in stars
dun ock imee quoo
faisworth parish church
tew me ana sin
masick form research
dun ock imee quoo
voice in staring stones
tew me ana sin
shivers deep in bones
dun ock imee quoo
fifty six past four
tew me ana sin
faces formed in floor
dun ock imee quoo
at last here come warm sun
tew me ana sin
walk on ordeal is done
dun ock imee quoo
tew me ana sin
ha ha ha ha ha
hold her to your breast
ha ha ha ha ha
now it is confessed
ha ha ha ha
let it be
be blessed
dun ock imee quoo
tew me ana sin
dun ock imee quoo
tew me ana sin
dun ock imee quoo
tew me ana sin

I was alone upon the seashore
I felt that I returned
from the solitude of individuation
into the consciousness
of unity with all that is,
I knelt down as one that passes away,
and rose up as one imperishable.

and sea
as in one vast world encircling harmony
I felt myself one with them
[von Meysenburg, 1900]

pussy cat's wings
are invisible things
and they're painted
invisible black
if you look very hard
you won't see them there
in the middle
of pussy cat's back

Bewitched in Moonlight

Rise and bed quietly stiff motion meet
We will sing hard on patch loving mattress
Come so tall whisper work drive passion sheet
Push by old in night dark warm smooth vague dress
Kiss for ring deep slip sea trim skin nipple
Here to stay eager men hold neck erect
Spare tis done as same gasp become eject
And with push proud sigh fly leg wet ripple

So In Karma

Wise Karma Lords, know all that is,
With justice reap in faultless measures loan;
Timeless in balance,
Today they judge,
Or when the hour is sown.

They steal work from Smithy, for near two year now
And Smithy think of leaving, selling old cash cow
Say men make him offer (with access to all books)
Old man he smell rat smell tell them sling their hooks

Make manager of foreman, man reliable and fair
Backroom job for self, quiet golf and half retire
Cash cow it tick over well deep business looking good
(With say men gone it have to do, they been sucking blood)

So as you push off from the shore,
Won't you turn your head once more
And make your peace with everyone?
For those who choose to stay
Will live just one more day
To do the things they should have done...
One year far side township, say men in deep trouble
Stab each other each deep in back big debts begin to double
Borrowed money banky shark circle and close in
Young say man working twelve hour day old say man hitting gin

Houses second mortgage and hot fiddler in accounts
Young say man work up sixteen hour as pressure mounts and mounts
Fuelled by alcoholic drink insomnia and smoke
Guilt and worry fix it up to culminate in stroke

And as you cross the wilderness,
Spinning in your emptiness:
You feel you have to pray.
Looking for a sign that the Universal Mind,
Has written you into the Passion Play...
He no have no sick pay, no pension, assets, cash
Can't talk nor walk or go for crap life quality am trash
Old say man take all business, liquidise and run
But heavy men come seek his debts with baseball bat and gun

So they be rewarded and buried under stone
Younger one depend on wife can never stand alone
Older one am marked am renting anus for a buck
Looking over shoulder wonder when run out of luck

God is a Concept
By which
We measure our pain
I'll say it again
God is a Concept
By which
We measure our pain...
Wise Karma Lords, know all that is,
With justice reap in faultless measures loan;
Timeless in balance,
Today they judge,
Or when the hour is sown.

Dealing in fine artwork, she smart and well set out
Just her and trusty husband they travel far about
Then they take a partner, for business to expand
Expert in accountancy and management in land

Accountancy not all he does, it comes as no surprise
Three months into balance sheet, he slide between her thighs
She the one that took him on, suppose that how it goes
Spouse man remain silent, but rest assured he knows

'Cause you were bred for Humanity and sold to Society -
One day you'll wake up in the Present Day -
A million generations removed from expectations
Of being who you really want to be...
Out pricing in big Volvo, just fancy man and her
Wet lunch then drive together laughing without care
See not ice on right hand bend deep engrossed in sin
Paramedics drag her out, but reaper man get him

Six days intensive care it take, then bone mend many week
Husband man just stay away, no letter never speak
Grief and pain and guilt and fear, all building up inside
Huge disorder patterning will not be denied

Well, do you ever get the feeling
That the Story's too damn real and in
The present tense?
Or that everybody's on the stage,
And it seems like
You're the only person
Sitting in the audience..?
Now she in ward thirty-six, no wash no think no eat
Stick insect in pale nightdress, who piss hard on her seat
Scrounging smoke off everyone, stub out after one drag
She thirty-one but glancing, all see is withered hag

Can't sleep, can't rest, can't dress, can't work, can't hold conversation
They done what can be done for her, by means of medication
She lost the will to live they say, the nurses shake their heads
They give her seven weeks at most before they clear her bed

What a tangled web we weave
Go 'round with circumstance
Someone show me how to tell
The dancer from the dance
What ever happened
To Saturday night?
Choosin' a friend and loosin' a fight
She said,
"Tell me, oh, tell me,
Are you alright?"
Whatever happened to Saturday night?
Whatever happened to Saturday night..?
Wise Karma Lords, know all that is,
With justice reap in faultless measures loan;
Timeless in balance,
Today they judge,
Or when the hour is sown.

The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun,
And signal for the crack of dawn
Light the sun.
Do you believe in the day?
Do you believe in the day!
The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun.
Soft Venus lovely maiden brings,
The ageless one
The ageless one.
Do you believe in the day?
The fading hero has returned to the night
And fully pregnant with the day,
wise men endorse the poet's sight.
Do you believe in the day?
Do you believe in the day..?
Ten years of loveless marriage, temptation get too strong
Deep furnace burning in her loin, his limb are fine and long
'This man here is gorgeous,' she weave her pattern well
Her urgent charm ensnare him in deep seductive spell

Deep conflict here come stewing that cut their heart like knife
He play part faithful husband she play part faithful wife
Cupid stab respectable with guilt and tribulation
Draw like moths into white flame of passion consumnation

She rushes to his arms,
They fall together
She whispers that it's only for awhile
She swears that soon
She'll be comin' back forever
She pulls away
And leaves him with a smile...
Their hands touch for an instant and lightning fills the air
She know she find her soulmate he know that he find her
When they first kiss then angels sing of marriage heaven made
Her feelings come in torrents as ardour build in wave

She straddle him and screw him, in back seat of her car
Near breaking the suspension, tearing off her bra
Until he beg for mercy, while she cry out for more
Ten years feel like eternity, in empty well fire roar

Really don't mind if you sit this one out.
My words but a whisper
Your deafness a shout.
I may make you feel but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter -- your love's in the sink.
So you ride yourselves over the fields
and you make all your animal deals
and your wise men don't know how it feels...
Shock horror twelve weeks later, their ardour yet unburned
Some mother tell her hubby, and new love he get spurned
Cast now as cursed stalker, Lothario, seducer
'You no come near me ever more, you evil woman user.'

He scratch him head and wonder, whatever he did wrong
Apart from fall in love with her, but now he not belong
Emotionally raped and dumped, slip deep into depression
Laughing in grim irony, earwigging her confession

And the love that I feel is so far away:
I'm a bad dream that I just had today
And you shake your head and say it's a shame.
Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.
Draw the lace and black curtains
and shut out the whole truth.
Spin me down the long ages:
Let them sing the song...
"I never led him on you know, it's him who called the shots
He stalked me and seduced me, tempted me with lots
Of sympathy, endearment, innuendo, fancy talk
Romantic dinners, poems and balls, fast rides and country walks

I'll never speak to him again nor kiss his eager lips
Feel his arms around me or his urgent thrusting hips
Lie in bed at daybreak whispering his name
I didn't mean to hurt you I never meant this pain"

So come all ye young men who are building castles
Kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus.
Mark the precise nature of your fear.
See the summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
And the hour of judgement draweth near.
Would you be the fool stood in his suit of armour
Or the wiser man who rushes clear...
Pretend all hunky dory divorce too much pain
But bedroom still stay cold at night deep issues still the same
Of trust they talk but watch like hawk as tension build up steam
She toss and turn in sleep at night call soulmate name in dream

Two month later truth hit fan when she find bun in oven
Husband man he turn on her know not there from his lovin
She run for lover but he gone far for brief encounter burned
To Amsterdam with no address, unloved, uncared for spurned

Don't your feet get cold in the winter time?
The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine
It's hard to tell the night time from the day
You're loosin' all your highs and lows
Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?
Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
Come down from your fences, open the gate
It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you, before it's too late...
She go to doctor man in tear, but he congratulate her
Break down in his surgery telling husband hate her
Turn to Parish Priest for help, bewildered head in whirl
He listen hard confession sob of sinning Catholic girl

Abortion clinic waiting room sit trembling all alone
If she not go through with it there be no going home
Three time she get up and leave but three time she come back
They place her leg in stirrup and lie her on her back

And I don't want to hear a sad story
Full of heartbreak and desire
The last time I felt like this
It was in the wilderness
And the canyon was on fire...
“Oh Father please forgive me I know not what I’m doing
I should have stayed true to my heart not ended in this ruin
And when this evil deed is done I’ll seek my love again
You gave to me a soulmate I cannot bear this pain”

God won’t burn her soul in hell, for she wields not the knife
Of comfort and security, immediate afterlife
And nothing’s getting missed here for spouse and heartless priest
Form part of total process and they won’t be released

You're afraid you might fall out of fashion
And you're feeling cold and small
Any kind of love without passion
That ain't no kind of lovin' at all...
Wise Karma Lords, know all that is,
With justice reap in faultless measures loan;
Timeless in balance,
Today they judge,
Or when the hour is sown.

Priest man caught by Bishops for games with little boy
Husband man as limp come next time then as woman's toy
Blessed are the meek 'tis writ for they are not defeated
The molecules remember all and none is ever cheated

That which you call molecules, atoms, cosmic dust
Formed into thoughts and doings, matter, beings, lust
That interacts within itself creating life's rich play
Manifest as light and dark, hot cold and night and day

There's a beast upon my shoulder
And a fiend upon my back
Feel his burning breath a heaving
Smoke oozing from his stack
And he moves beneath the covers
Or he lies below the bed
He's the beast upon your shoulder
He's the price upon your head...

All things come from no thing all thing is that is
Unified and harmonised each instant all that lives
Nothing dead exist here all thing in all and know
Attraction and rejection microcosm script the show

Heartbroken filled with anger frustrated and half-crazed
Frantically she searches through soulmate’s friends and ways
She fails; but unseen forces her love brings in creation
When she meets him by accident in local railway station

He looks
Another year older,
From too many lovers who used him and ran
But some nights
Oh, he looks like an angel
And he's always willing to hold you again...
Wise Karma Lords, know all that is,
With justice reap in faultless measures loan;
Timeless in balance,
Today they judge,
Or when the hour is sown
They didn't meet by accident
The place and time were known
The plant comes from the distant past
From where the seeds are grown.
[With asides from Anderson, Lennon, Fry and Harris...]


two halves to one meld in one is a whole
love name not five ever ever again
candle that burns fires the light of the soul
when soulmate draws close then ever comes pain
won fourteen eighteen four two five seven
you who argue for your limitations
pray all good christians for god at eleven
be sure enough they're your lamentations
spent seamen swimming in love's warm ocean
swan's whitespread wings and cries of joy below
brought from the depths by its urgent motion
these smitten by cupid's cruel arrow know
such raging lusty ways that would devour
in her her love for him in her and he
destroy their ordered lives within the hour
yearning desire that overburns set free
the joy I found within thy throbbing heart
and emptiness all with thee gone away
full lips that blossomed like a rose and part
just echoes now in this the place you lay
that blazing fire that once we joined before
in anticipation of coming spring
is gone and with it the soft woodland floor
but wait see what ever new winters bring
[to be continued...]

Love Again

Love again: wanking at ten past three
(Surely he's taken her home by now?),
The bedroom hot as a bakery,
The drink gone dead, without showing how
To meet tomorrow, and afterwards,
And the usual pain, like dysentery.

Someone else feeling her breasts and cunt,
Someone else drowned in that lash-wide stare,
And me supposed to be ignorant,
Or find it funny, or not to care,
Even ... but why put it into words?
Isolate rather this element

That spreads through other lives like a tree
And sways them on in a sort of sense
And say why it never worked for me.
Something to do with violence
A long way back, and wrong rewards,
And arrogant eternity.
[Philip Larkin - to be extended]

It's a Mystery

I went to the famous Mystery Plays
There's a twenty-four cycle in all
I walked in knowing a little
And came out knowing toss all:
Howling and wailing and moaning
Weeping and gnashing of teeth
Weird masks and outfits,
(Nightmarish looks)
Doings beyond all belief:
Seems that they fit the description
'Twas chaos for all I could see,
With that very kind of prescription
Then I'll let such Mysteries be.

Nobody Else's Man

Insteada livin' on my own
I coulda been a system clone
With two point four kids and a wife,
A mortgage and a job for life;
I coulda slaved from nine to five
And swallowed all that Tory jive
About how everyone must work,
And anyone who dont's a jerk.

I coulda lived with discipline
Believin' anarchy's a sin,
Insteada Descartes' Demon, I
Could wallow in the Christian lie.
I coulda had a gauge of wealth,
Certificate of mental health,
And all the other fuckin' crap
That goes with the conformist trap.

I coulda learned to socialise,
Be nice to people I despise,
Called scum heroes, and judges sir,
Crawled like a snake, cowed like a cur,
I coulda said my daily prayers
And blissfully been unawares
Of those who organise the race
That keeps us suckers in our place.
I coulda, but I didn't.

So what have I to show instead?
Bad reputation, screwed up head,
A niche on skid row, well, almost:
Unwelcome guest and no one's host,
A life of hurt and misery,
A man nobody wants to see,
But pain like mine I'd rather bear
Than your euphoric fucking air.

Booze, cash or God, I worship none,
What vexes you's what I call fun,
I dress the way I want to dress,
Don't rush about, so don't feel stress;
There's plenty things give me the hump,
But I jump when I want to jump;
A filofax I do not crave;
I'm lean, but you're a fattened slave.

So go ahead, work overtime,
Choke on your poxy gin and lime,
Serve the machine, do as you're told,
And win yourself a crock of gold,
But when decades hence you're retired
To count the spoils you so desired,
Ask yourself: Do you give a toss
For this vacuous dung and dross?

Then look back at the time that's gone:
The senseless things that turned you on;
Your whole life has been work and drink:
I couldn't live with such a stink,
Because although I've got sod all
I'm at no man's or vice's call,
And pain like mine I'd rather bear
Than your euphoric, fucking air.
[Alexander Baron]

A Deep Sworn Vow

Because you did not keep
That deep-sworn vow
Have been friends of mine;
Yet always
When I look death in the face,
When I clamber to the heights of sleep
Or when I grow excited with wine
Suddenly I meet your face
[William Butler Yeats]

Church Used in Porn Film
May Need Reconsecration

In the church of San Vincenzo Abruzzo
Young women line up to confess
And Father Tonino he absolves them all
The frigid, the nymphs, the depressed
Confessional box rocks with rhythm
Cries of ecstacy, grunting and groans
As he gets them to relive their sinning
With Hail Mary's whilst jumping their bones
Joe Calzone lifts up his cassock
Formerly of Amsterdam Nights
Roccaforte the young blushing virgin (Ha)
Now the place needs penitential rites
Humping on top of the altar
The cleric gets into the bride
As the witnesses play with their hymn books
You could not make it up if you tried

A Strange Week

He's been working 'round here undercover
For more than a week it would seem
He took Julia with a heart failure
And her brother Jack off in a dream
Phil with an aneurism
Whist Barbara went down in the bath
Alice tits up in the river
Barry got stabbed in a caff
Alan and Jenny got thrombo's
Whilst Alex and Francis met Maurice
Carol found God in a cornfield
With Margaret, Wendy and Doris
Suzie, Steve, Dave in a car crash
Angela, Kath with pneumonia
Roger and Dick with the AIDS
And Brian at the Northern Symphonia
Christine run down by a lorry
The Dark Angel sure likes his joke
He took Tom in his dress and suspenders
And Sam on the vinegar stroke
In Mandy's bed chamber on Wednesday
Whilst her husband was working away
[She may well join her lovers next Friday
For then there's the Devil to pay]
Yes the scythe has been swishing in Grubtown
And they're all crapping into their socks
On the one hand they want to make merry
On the other they're scared of the pox
Undertakers have run out of coffins
And the vicar can't do no more sessions
Down the Crem' they are working a night shift
Father Pat has long queues at confessions
It's getting to be rather scary
They're dropping like flies all around
And they fear the next tap on the shoulder
Might well mean a ride underground

Frozen dehydrated sperm
Place in artifical womb
Stir with turkey basting stick
Hello brave new world
Remove then dick
Goodbye love
Close then those thighs
Now lock the tomb
Take stem cell foetus
Tail uncurled
Make androgyne
X Y be wove
Now lock the tomb
Yours and mine
Come and meet us
Blonde hair blue eyes
Place in artificial womb
So watch the trick
The master race
Stand in line
Now lock the tomb
And do it quick

Dyrus the fisherman worked sixteen hours a day, every day without fail. In the morning he and his wife would pack the previous day's catch into boxes, and his wife would set of to market whilst he mended his nets and checked his small boat. At noon, he would set off for the fishing fields - taking some three hours to get to the best places - and fish until six. On returning back to his home beach he would unload the fish and pack them in ice for overnight storage.

One sunny morning Dyrus sat repairing a net when the Hurdy Gurdy Man appeared.
'Tell me, Dyrus, why do you work so many hours in the day? You don't need to catch as many fish as you do to make a living yet you drive yourself so hard.'
Dyrus snorted. 'I tell you why. Soon, I make enougg money buy another boat. This boat my brother use for fishing - he work sixteen hour every day too. Then, if we work hard, we get third boat between us, then fourth, then fifth. Three years time I have fleet of fishing boats - you see?'
The Hurdy Gurdy Man seemed unimpressed: 'And?'
'This only beginning.' Dyrus waved his finger. 'When I have fleet of fishing boats, I sell some and buy oil tanker. I work oil tanker twenty four hours doing contract. Then I get another oil tanker, then another, then another. In ten years time I have whole fleet of oil tanker and be as rich as Aristotle Onassis - then I do what I want.'
The Hurdy Gurdy Man listened gravely and then beckoned Dyrus to follow him. They walked about half a mile down the sandy beach until they came to a six foot stone wall.
'Be quiet and look over there,' he said, motioning to the wall.
Dyrus scrambled up the wall and looked over to see a rotund balding man sunning himself in a deckchair.
'Who is this?' he whispered on descending.
'Aristotle Onassis.'


He arrives at the visitors centre in mid-afternoon,
Nestled amongst the young evergreens,
On the edge of the estate,
They've built it in in the place,
Where the hippies used to camp back in the 70's and 80's.
It's a beautiful building,
But this is not a mere building,
He can feel it as soon as he gets out of the car.

He knocks: they come:
'I used to attend the gatherings here some years ago,
I'm passing by and wonder if I can have a look around,
and perhaps buy some videos?'
No problem.

Inside, the feeling intensifies,
The tiled floors, the timbered ceilings,
This is no mere building,
Here lies sacred geometry in action,
This s the work of Master architects,
Such as built the Taj,
And the Acropolis;
The place vibrates,
And he can feel it.

And that woman who's watching can feel him,
See something in his eyes:
'Could I take your name and address?'
'Whatever for?'
'Er, we like to keep in touch with people.'

The Seven Works of Mercy

A certain man went down
From Boulder to Birmingham
And fell amongst evil spirits
Which did strip him of his surety
And wounded him and possessed him
Rendering him half mad.

And there came down a certain priest that way
Who when he saw him
Did back away and laugh scornfully
Who on hearing his cries
Did deny them
Condemning his madness as sin
And in fear of contamination in like manner
Lost propriety and comfort
And the scarlet letter
He did pass by quickly on the other side;
And the man was sorely afraid
And alone
In thrall of the evil one

But a certain master musician
As he journeyed
Came where he was;
And when he saw him
Had compassion on him
And went to him
Tended him for many days
Casting out the demons
And healing his spirit
With soft song
And vinegar and brown paper.

"I was an hungred
And ye gave me no meat
I was thirsty
And ye gave me no drink
I was a stranger
And ye took me not in
And ye clothed me not
And in prison
And ye visited me not.
As ye did it not
To one of the least of these
Ye did it not to me."

Thank you,
For your genuine
Christian compassion
Your seven corporal
And seven spiritual
Works of mercy;
Gloria tibi Domine
I'm a musician myself now
It blisses me
With love and passion.

Chairbert's Annual Retort on the State of the Union Expressive

{A punctuated Word Journey; an extreme example such as to demonstrate technique. To be delivered (aloud) in a smooth, semi-continuous, expressive and convincing form full of inflection and with due regard to punctuation. Take a deep breath before you begin, and keep the pauses short such as to limit the time the listener has available to attempt to decode meaning.}

Good Evening Ladies and Gentlemen and well coming here and now again;

I am pleased yet again and again to be with you this year end of the day and able to report record breaking results yet more for the second year in succession to the throne making.
I shall be brief.

This year round and about, my message in a bottle bank role play mirror from the galactic centre forward march - into the new age old error of judgement day working it out with a pencil thin blue line - in the sand stone trailer park keeper of the smirking.
Faith in the almighty green back entry restrictions apply in writing up his notes and queries the fine, verdict of not guilty looks the other way, for lurkers as she passes him over time and a half baked biting scheming bitch on heat treatment. [pause and smile]

Room service stationed overseas aid workers - right to strike outside their sphere, of influential people carrier group sex video game for a laugh it off her - fear of hand some womans rights organisation chart a course in social history books. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, books; books a seat to stand up hard on passion watching pornographic films makes you blind faithful followers of fashion shows her up in public house party wall hanging judge - hanging judge for your self interest is at stake. So mind you hear this well up inside: don't fudge up your fuzz box clever Dick.
Can you do it all night longing for release date stamping your feat of endurance applied? Applied science, right? Right on by laws!

If it is so, would you like to have a go forth with his hand upon your breast assured planned economy? You could well do it over the table, in the kitchen devil may care less is more on, and off hand some other guide book worm turns queens evidence for the prosecution, case out the means and ends up broke.

Alternatively - and in the bedroom - whence wide eyed she comes, in peace full easy feeling, safe on the pill, and keen to fulfil pagan rites and wrong doing good works it in number theory of evolution of the fittest seen by cheap prostitution. She sought a solution, overleaf by thanking him off and riding up and over the hill top of the class war (what is it good for?).

Weary wanking of visitors, who out stay their well hung over come under cover girls stories, of love on the rocks of cocaine spurting cocks of their masters. Mind games; miss stresses strains at the altar and curses her fits like a glove on the hand in the till her course is reset without falter by the swinging bollocks of bastards buying Jackson Pollocks skill (planned obsolescence with the will not to fault her judgement day work out of context).

Thus, they thrill to the dance of the damned and blasted jerk in their pains to be honest injun - as work shy to fuck up their brains trust in god head job thrust lots wife swapping (Ha!) - a pillar of salt of the community chest stuck out west end show stop her for to fault.
They invest a spin doctors orders duck - and why not I ask you to consider a bull - with a grim reputation to keep at all costs at a minimum rate fix her drink ten gin and tonics (say fuck and piss down the sinking ship of new labour party games set of spanners), and match this if you can weep with your nicotine patch working, for nothing trip switching off good manners.

Humping harder and thinking of linking with arty frame gets on my tits as they bum cigarettes have been banned for the wedding dress lifts you can see where we be heading in the moist tender bits steaming under the bedding down for the night train of thought, that she planned to take the stiff member with mouth, and with hand me the key to the honey moon sweet darling bud is aroused.
So should it be so.

As dick is rehoused in the tunnel of love me do that was quick silver wedding (in no time at all Cinderella never went to the ball game) in November nor marched to the tune of Lord Rodney in May (day parades posing naked in haystacks with a fella in shades of blue stocking rocking the springs in her bed) room cocking a snook at the pale men in her head stone, is marked out in stars in the stonemason's yard of ale in the town's public bars.
Here, where the mocking bird cries out in anger, and pain killer dogs breakfast in pairs of boots up the pants, come even harder the rear window fogs as Lord Lust again rears his purple head and spreads her legs wide who will pull off her knickers or push them aside fears not, has no conscience, is hot red and hard in his passion, deflowers and penetrates any old fashion that will get him insider knowledge of these things.

Show no shame on you woman as eager as he, crying out that you're here but coming and heaving and sighing with glee; full of joy came deep in your heart strings. Vying with fast leaving inhibition rolling lying out of the wet patch to change position, but know his now still balls are empty, have spent their all upon thy womb and its surrounding wall passed out now exhausted in the sand mans calls to arms and legs akimbo.

No longer prisoner of thy charms, a womans mighty weapons, inspect her fast wit and subtle meaning underlying soft tit testing scheming plotting clit undercurrent affairs management plan B all and end all is well hung out to dry - and remarkably so as well.

Look here near blotting the copy book dealer ship shape up tight fit bit part, and parcel it out side left hand down casting out devil may care home office romance is in the air lock stock, and over the barrel organic chemistry. Chemistry between them wherein lasting love of dance hall marks out of tension and toil - as history repeats its self interesting times we live in fear not said he for mighty dread locks - a head starting blocks the entrancement to the kings dome in heaven - scented lamp oil economy based enhancement invented in the new hair do.
Do I dare disturb the universe out thereabouts?
No, it would appear not at all ways are closed to me and my shadow boxing ring on my finger in the pie shop door ways down heavy scene two act one never can tell the marines. I have the bottle full of doubts that weigh me down - downsizing up the endless opportunities of a lifetime dull, endlessly and doing nothing but clown around, whilst emphasising fair ground side shows adjacent to the main event coming off in somebody else's bed.. A big red nose in another tented city of angels: talk is cheap skating on thin ice maiden hair style pretty face. Brothers rented car parking space program change the human race, question and answer session, musicians union of the opposite hand over fist fucking well being lost for words of condolence book me a hotel room with a view of the sea of wholes in my socks.
Chance her only for the money man of letters?
Nay: French kissing the Blarney stoned out of his head I tell you.

Letters from Americans ducking their responsibilty for global warming to her conversational hypnosis class differences in outlook express trains to manchester united we stand a lone ranger force - full of shit house rats brains trusting? Unsighted brass monkeys in dangerous games of chance your army training course fishing for clues down (a cross lit and dance scared of their shadows?) lusting for trappist monks.

Stand hand to mouthing the word is not the thing writ large as life in danger sign of four skin heads - of departmental health centre of excellence - planned family; herd behaviour and common sense of responsibilty for to arrange her drunks in action mans inhumanity. Whence to enter into agreement on any terms of surrender yourself to the light within you and without your blank look out?
Oh no, no, no, no, no.

Earns true knowledge of the dark arts of deception.
Pursue might and right - on defender of the faith in the wraith.
Child of the night perception dancers fright that you own?
May just well send her wild on dope and make you out field free of the known in Hades - and then I hope that answers all your questions Ladies and Gentlemen thank you very much for your attention seeking enlightenment and goodnight.

Exists as proportion in space,
Rhythm and melody
As proportion in time,
And harmony
As proportion in creation

Invocation to Sir Chenjin

open invocation cast out wide
incantation ether wave born on tide
language disorder wiccan chant
music therapy rave and rant
natural healing magic spell
mystery story dark poetry's well
erotic story anagram new
glastonbury festival pagan symbol too
feast of pentecost speaking in tongues
hypnotic mistress men with iron lungs
feast of flowering moon burning man
ur spracht manu five tone voice
harmonic cleansing leave no choice
alternate reality seeing charlie chan
chanting indian velvet acid thighs
girl gone wild eating holland meat pies
image and reality of mystery lady hex
nature of duality in matter form and sex
magic incantation creating human mess
room fighting night flyer woman red dress
laughing buddha statue cockney rhyming slang
universal life so mind healer sang
brain dump overload secret overheard
practical magic hid in spoken word
hypno seduction mystic language ways
of humping word morph and humbly dumbly days
analysing meaning kingdom is within
walking distance viewing depravity and sin
origin of cliche history of pi
figurative language on warm woman thigh
regressive imagery sweet sensation
creative writing unproven allegation
greedy corpo scientist making out a case
tenure and finance fuck the human race
well read dick head word wrestler teach
woolly pully over eye obfuscate in speech
brief statement utterance assert affair firmation
word of honour off her head in circumnavigation
masturbating priestess hot on road to hull
paved with god inventions of literary bull
creator mass deaf ray naive guilt on head
mad dog politician get make twenty million dead
he speak fancy word trying hard to bed her
she trust no auditor standing near a shredder
never trust pleas man who say no thing to fear
never trust drunkard who say he want no beer
never trust spin doctor put in place to hide
never trust her anyone only give one side
words of power power game plan it underground
movement of an iron rod fusion inert sound
cavitation engine rusting down the pit
sniffing out her intent and sucking on her wit
rhythm poem undertone in language pattern field
music lyric search and find in song and spell is sealed
love letter sonnet form in horoscope and quote
poetry with gratitude in heart felt thank you note
real working class heroes incarnate in trees
in sea and rock and flower in cloud and trees
in grass and insect form in fish and sand
in river stream and rain not many understand
parable or metaphor they make feel small
no time in pain so big they feel no thing at all
miracle and mackerel hovis and brown bread
feeding of five thousand then raise lazarus from dead
letter from america come each satan day
black verse propaganda direct from see and say
boundless and limitless forgotten and forlorn
justifying genocide whilst castigating porn
justifying genocide whilst castigating sex
stealing from your pocket and humping with your ex
justifying genocide whilst castigating love
arresting him at midnight in the shadows in the grove
in witchcraft ritual ancient as hills
soaked in henbane and pushing poisoned pills
weapon of destruction they say they burst the boil
proper gander in the head while killing for more oil
dancing to the drumbeat of set up tv show
critically silenced and too far gone to know
dancing to the drumbeat of the daily mail and sun
walking out in no man's land with bayonet and gun
dancing to the drumbeat of the man in fancy dress
spurting from the pulpit and cleaning up his mess
dancing to the drumbeat of the poster in the street
swallowing and wallowing in image and deceit
dancing to the drumbeat of the one stood at the front
ten years social ordering make stupefied new grunt
fist up sock puppet dancing on a string
thinking caper freely but conductor say what sing
structure here of magic mystery and bon
appetite for hot lust and unity with one
womans burning passion in suffering desire
talk so people listen out in fohat cosmic fire
station master dreamer in word persuasion power
conning man and animal climbing babel tower
overtime lord helper in tranceformation cross
sword of truth in what is is of little import loss
of ego maniac patterning in super project scheme
in nonsense rhyme and reason of rabbit hole dream
on young lovers kisses on butterfly's wings
of a prayer and a blissing as the carpenter sings
walrus lyric name of lucy mean it light
christ alice transformation poem come middle time of night
walker on fire pit pot chanting in trance
form shifted consciousness shapen up by dance
through looking glass studio in caterpillar hall
moth man get transfigured whispering a call
text segmentation making image and form
flow of information in access to storm
cloud picture post card give index to word
pattern of language make perception of world
teacher speak hard tongue how many lick
like diamond mind head in sleight of mouth trick
like cogito ergo sum where no i is thinking
as if eye lid movement say eye is blinking
hidden words of wisdom anagram omkara sound
of hypno fetish sing song in velvet underground
spaniard in works outing of finnegans wake
breaking up form until left hand fingers ache
forest field and fantasy in daresbury ask alice
in wonderland adventure of lewis carroll malice
little prince charming grimm fairy tales
of magic ways love fest visions of whales
electric heroes bathing in twilight of the gods
novel english usage working flouting all the odds
healing in hypnosis sound and esp
calling down great angels by smoking dmt
healing in hypnosis sound and magic sign
earth tones skull bones melody and rhyme
healing in hypnosis sound and ideal notes
making love in ecstacy in tantric overcoats
saintly evocation deep taproot rubaiyat
and my voice will go with you use meditate on that
moving finger writing in bright winking neon sign
metaphor inviting hand inventory mime
curtailing basic freedoms citing keeping peace
work in public office palm all smear in grease
curtailing basic freedoms citing keeping free
quarantine separate him from you and me
curtailing basic freedoms citing keeping law
handcuff bag on head kneel down upon floor
curtailing basic freedoms citing saving me
no sleep no trial in land of liberty
teaching dog eat dog lead survival of fit
recoil in hypocrisy when mugger practice it
brainwasher child scarer he can tell
bribe with heaven fill fear with hell
fill with fairy tale illusion breath
safety in number but alone birth death
being live in senses see touch feel
talk life fantasy mystic life real
phalli soppy symbol game word trancecribed
best description never described
very best picture never is real
only poor reflection menu not meal
mind game story zen alarm clock
mourning glory wooking with a cok
assonance and resonance of pi man soup
words that rhyme with brewer's droop
essence of meaning body language sign
universal music second coming time
come passion hot bed brain washing route
wild cherry college girl in pink zoot suit
literature and writing gothic sex with demon
phonetic fornication friendship poem for seamen
yellow matter custard dead dogs eye
stream of consciousness river running by
song lyric fantasy in theatre of dream
mirror of reality in evil selling scheme
alter state of consumeness by singing aesop fable
example of metaphor hiding under table
dynamic body language no nonsense poem
word twisting nursery rhyme story of owen
money mad megabird shag gash rough
ride with poltergeist feeling not enough
time out of head lines up another lay
back game plan screenplay writing starring daisy may
be zen rock garden may be knot in song
bird brain storm in teacup part wrong
day out in weird picture phonetic story
board game sonnet writing new morning glory
days of magic gathering jupiter and mars
calls to willing and eager in bars
pretty peaches never reaches satisfaction time
speaking of the sperm bank and the sport of kings in rhyme
push shove passion's love's sought in sights and sounds
sputtering and spattering and spraying in the grounds
all comers waiting from noticing signs
of storybook weaver who committed no crimes
near death experience in bone mountain monastery
garden of delight and growing sheaves of honesty
partnership in ecstasy of orgasm surge surpass
expectation wonderment of nitrous oxide gas
mask of martinet in house of sin city
seminal seamstress heaving sitting pretty
dweller on threshold of dream interpretation
ambiguous and tolerant in sweet alliteration
red realm restraint rock of rough romantic craft
fair tongue piercing down deep mind shaft
hot women gasping in elizabethan map
of cosmos and kronos in heathen devil trap
door to eternity and medieval feast
of master of reality bringer of release
white dove of freedom original sin
no more stoning and from this all will win
out of advertising logan manipulating word
looks like cattle but sound like herd
and heard not scene as childhood place
alternate reality of man in moon face
of sacred valley in winter sun
sign of plenty and lover of nun
dancing with angel in pentecost trance
rapt in glossolalia and oblivious of chance
paradigm shift midsummer night dream
catcher of nuance and maker of scheme
rhythm of word and rhythm of phrase
rhythm of lyric of ancient of days
and nights of passion with heaving hips
in fairy tale story of clinging lips
speak sweet endearment in love poem spell
outrageous blessing he knew so well
in erotic fantasy of eros rhyme
and reason discarded to keep in time
to remember mantram of beating drum
to sway and weave in eternal hum
and hump and pump in coming of spring
fly height of summer on joyful wing
and as fall of leaves take stock and slow
prepare for winters coming night and know
that when cleansing frost be past and done
new bud come reborn called out by sun

Because I am united eternally, inseparably, with my Beloved - who is the Beloved of all, who is yourself - I would show you the way, because you are in pain, in sorrow, in doubt.
But I can only be a signpost for you.
You must have the strength of your own desire to attain.
You must experience the pain and the sorrow in your own self.
You must strive for yourself.
Your desire must come from your very soul.
It must be the result of your own experience, for by that alone will you attain.
By telling you of my attainment I do not wish to create authority because if I create authority in your mind I shall destroy your own perception of the Truth.
I want to make you breathe the fresh air of the mountains, but if you seek my authority you will remain in your dark valley of limitation.
It is much easier for you to follow and worship blindly than to understand and so become truly free.

Until I was able to identify myself with the goal, which is the Beloved of all, which is the Source and the End of all, I did not want to say that I had found and, in finding, had become the Beloved.
Till I was able to unite with the eternal I could not pass on the Truth to others; till I was certain of having found the lasting goal I did not want to say that I was the Teacher.
Now that I have found, now that I have established the Beloved within myself, now that the Beloved is myself, I would give you of the Truth - not that it should be received with authority, but with understanding.
It does not matter whether you accept or reject it.
When a flower opens and gives its scent, it does not heed if the passer-by does not delight in its fragrance.
I have painted my picture on the canvas and I want you to examine it critically, not blindly.
I want you to create because of that picture a new picture for yourself.
I want you to fall in love with the picture, not with the painter, to fall in love with the Truth and not with him who brings the Truth.
Fall in love with yourself and then you will fall in love with everyone.

...that immense energy,
immense intelligence,
has been using this body.
I don't think people realise what tremendous energy
and intelligence went through this body.
And for seventy years
- was a pretty long time -
and now the body can't stand any more.

unless the body has been prepared,
very carefully,
protected and so on -
nobody can understand what went through this body.
Don't anybody pretend.
I repeat this:
nobody amongst us or the public,
knows what went on.
I know they don't.

And now after seventy years
it has come to an end.
Not that this intelligence and energy
- it's somewhat here,
every day,
and especially at night.
And after seventy years,
the body can't stand it
- can't stand any more.
It can't.

The Indians have a lot of damned superstitions about this
- that you will and the body goes -
and all that kind of nonsense.

You won't find a body like this,
or that supreme intelligence
operating in a body
for many hundred years.
You won't see it again.
When he goes, it goes.
There is no consciousness left behind
of that consciousness,
of that state.
They'll all pretend
or try to imagine they can get in touch with that.
Perhaps they will somewhat
if they live the teachings.
But nobody has done it.
And so that's that.

Appendix A

13. Mutated English Reconstruction of Homogenized Phoneme Set With: 'o', 'oo'

[Mook tolk lok Hoolondor...]

word solod croom bon fot not mool boks klovor dok hodmostor plon of otook on dofoons spondon hord oornd cosh on hond mood n hor kot bok to front door stop look on loston on ond owtsoods spon doktoors tho okoonts of tho wor goom sot on motch tho foos tho mosok of tho sphoors of onflowons bo sogoostov longwoog potorn formoshon donson on tho dork kontonontol droft not stokoongs on sospoondo bolt op tho bok ontro pososhonol ploo okton oowto fontoso olond on tho son on moon rovor boot hook loon ond sonkortooth onto yoor nok loon op ovor thor wos o yoong womon from wools of ploshor booch bol room otho top of tho moornon gloro hool on won too thro for toom trols

14. Mutated English Reconstruction of Homogenized Phoneme Set With: 'e', 'ee'

[Sey et lek e Seeth Efreeken er e Breemey...]

werd seled creem ben fet net meel beks klever dek hedmester plen ef eteek en defeens spenden herd eernd cesh en hend meed n her ket bek te frent deer step leek en lesten en end ewtseeds spen dekteers the ekeents ef the wer geem set en metch the fees the mesek ef the spheers ef enflewens be segeestev lengweeg petern fermeshen densen en the derk kentenentel dreft net stekeengs en sespeende belt ep the bek entre peseshenel plee ekten eewte fentese elend en the sen en meen rever beet heek leen end senkerteeth ente yeer nek leen ep ever ther wes e yeeng wemen frem weels ef plesher beech bel reem ethe tep ef the meernen glere heel en wen tee thre fer teem trels

15. Mutated English Reconstruction of Homogenized Phoneme Set With: 'i', 'ii'

['i' as in 'big' and 'ii' as in 'kind' or 'fine'...]

wird silid criim bin fit nit miil biks klivir dik hidmistir plin if itiik in difiins spindin hird iirnd cish in hind miid n hir kit bik ti frint diir stip liik in listin in ind iwtsiids spin diktiirs thi ikiints if thi wir giim sit in mitch thi fiis thi misik if thi sphiirs if infliwins bi sigiistiv lingwiig pitirn firmishin dinsin in thi dirk kintinintil drift nit stikiings in sispiindi bilt ip thi bik intri pisishinil plii iktin iiwti fintisi ilind in thi sin in miin rivir biit hiik liin ind sinkirtiith inti yiir nik liin ip ivir thir wis i yiing wimin frim wiils if plishir biich bil riim ithi tip if thi miirnin gliri hiil in win tii thri fir tiim trils

16. Mutated English Reconstruction of Homogenized Phoneme Set With Random Vowel Groups in Single Word

ward silid cruum bon fit nit meel biks klavar dik hidmistir plin if itiik an difiins spindin hord iirnd cesh in hend miid n har kit bik ti frint diir stap leek in listin en ind awtsaads spin diktiirs thi ikiints if thi wir geem sit on mitch tha fiis thi misik if thi sphiirs af infliwins bi sogoostov lingwiig pitirn farmashan dinsin in thi dark kontonontl drift nat stukuungs on sispiindi belt ep thi bik intri pasashanal plii iktin aawta fintisi olond in thi sin in meen rivir biit hiik liin end sinkirtiith anta yiir nik loon ip avar ther wis e yiing wimin frim wiils if plushur biich bol raam uuthu tap ef thi meernen gluru hiil in win tii thre far tiim trils

17. Mutated English Reconstruction of Homogenized Phoneme Set Without Vowel Carriers

[This represents the fundamental 'intelligence' in the signal transmitted by the consonants modulating the vowel 'carriers'. Nt th sgnfcnt cmprssn tht ccrs. One could not 'speak' this - as one needs the vowels as carrier waves - bt sng th frms n wrttn cmmnctn (or as cmprssd signtrs fr dtbs srch) s nthr mttr... ]

wrd sld crm bn ft nt ml bks klvr dk hdmstr pln f tk n dfns spndn hrd rnd csh n hnd md n hr kt bk t frnt dr stp lk n lstn n nd wtsds spn dktrs th knts f th wr gm st n mtch th fs th msk f th sphrs f nflwns b sgstv lngwg ptrn frmshn dnsn n th drk kntnntl drft nt stkngs n sspnd blt p th bk ntr psshnl pl ktn wt fnts lnd n th sn n mn rvr bt hk ln nd snkrtth nt yr nk ln p vr thr ws yng wmn frm wls f plshr bch bl rm th tp f th mrnn glr hl n wn t thr fr tm trls


pitch her Joseph eyin a boot own a rever wit anger green breeze hand murmur layed skives sum beauty cull ewe you hands a quake slew lie a gain wit colloid escalope hives
newspaper taxes up here are the sure weigh things to take you away luck for the ghoul with the zen in arise and Jurgen
loose sea inn describe with dire moans lose C indescribable die moons lousy indus cyberman dye moans

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Dan Scorpio Home
Atonal Therapeutic Chant for Healing and Interrupt
Language Manipulation and Abuse
Neologism and Cliche Forms
Therapeutic Metaphor
Pomes and Lyrical (Page 2)
Bibliography [for Entire Site]
Prince and Magician (Consciousness) Pages