Massacre en Coree, by:Picasso
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Friday, December 30, 2005
Five Star
Even when you think it's over
it has only just begun
doesn't really matter which way I choose
I can never lose
Oblivion Gained
Don't lie
nothing is real
you know what's coming next
Turn it up.
Discumbobulation
Try loud dwelling on a single truth
pass through
Go to the funky place
Welcome back me freind
it's always great
NOW
Roll with the funk
Use the funk
NOW
Try to get it out
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Le Tigre qui Brule formulae chemique
roses are red violets
are blue you thought
this would rhyme
but it aint gonna
wake up
eat drink cafe
disqute avec la fumee
stretch votre corps
talk in riddles to your imaginaginary freinds
twirl a heavy peice of would
read
play music
Today I fasted for three hours.
swim in the ocean
keep moving
except for when you're balancing
on a tight rope
are blue you thought
this would rhyme
but it aint gonna
wake up
eat drink cafe
disqute avec la fumee
stretch votre corps
talk in riddles to your imaginaginary freinds
twirl a heavy peice of would
read
play music
Today I fasted for three hours.
swim in the ocean
keep moving
except for when you're balancing
on a tight rope
on rousing the sleeping walt
someone (macro?) recently accused dear old walt of "complacency" on a particular matter. it was due to monez's paraphrasing of walt's quote "do i contradict myself? very well, then i contradict myself. (i am large. i contain multitudes)".
on no matter was walt complacent. in fact, in light of walt's far-reaching ideas (history, theology, science, all drop in regularly), i was astounded to learn yesterday that in the atomic structrue, the neutrons and protons don't in fact orbit around the nuceleus as we've often assumed. (sorry doc, i know my terminology is off here.) in fact, the latest research shows that the atomic level seems to operate on a whole other set of rules that we simply haven't got the imagination to understand. the neutrons and protons (the doc cringes here) don't orbit, as planets orbit the sun, but in fact appear and re-appear instantaneoulsy. as one scientist put it, they are everywhere and no where at once.
and so the universe sits back, puffs on its pipe, and says: "do i contradict myself? very well, then i contradict myself. i am large. i contain multitudes."
"Have you learned the lessons only of those who admired you, and were tender with you, and stood aside for you? Have you not learned great lessons from those who braced themselves against you, and disputed passage with you?" -- walt whitman
p.s. also, the latest science believes thusly: that there are literally billions of billions of galaxies in the universe, of which the milky way is one. in the milky way alone, it can be reasonaly assumed that there are several million million planets with the capability to sustain life.
on no matter was walt complacent. in fact, in light of walt's far-reaching ideas (history, theology, science, all drop in regularly), i was astounded to learn yesterday that in the atomic structrue, the neutrons and protons don't in fact orbit around the nuceleus as we've often assumed. (sorry doc, i know my terminology is off here.) in fact, the latest research shows that the atomic level seems to operate on a whole other set of rules that we simply haven't got the imagination to understand. the neutrons and protons (the doc cringes here) don't orbit, as planets orbit the sun, but in fact appear and re-appear instantaneoulsy. as one scientist put it, they are everywhere and no where at once.
and so the universe sits back, puffs on its pipe, and says: "do i contradict myself? very well, then i contradict myself. i am large. i contain multitudes."
"Have you learned the lessons only of those who admired you, and were tender with you, and stood aside for you? Have you not learned great lessons from those who braced themselves against you, and disputed passage with you?" -- walt whitman
p.s. also, the latest science believes thusly: that there are literally billions of billions of galaxies in the universe, of which the milky way is one. in the milky way alone, it can be reasonaly assumed that there are several million million planets with the capability to sustain life.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
further collaborations
i have just figured out how to create layers and add text in photoshop.
you're all in trouble. hee hee hee...
collaboration 2
more lyrical/visual abstractions and collaborations for yr viewing pleasure.
thanks for all the great posts over x-mas. i'm a week or more behind on comments.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Sunday, December 25, 2005
My Music of Yule for You
COLD FUSION
(a polyrythmic solstice) -by Jesse e.j. Quesnel
Echoes of yuletide can still be heard this Christmas season. As Santa grins into his expensive beard what are we to surmise about that Carol touching a part of our soul. An answer to thethe question of what music that Pinocchio-Santa-Jesus is dancing to, this answer here I purpose. What do you hear this day if not this? is the question that also here I play.
The song is nearly the same. The layers, the sound has changed. The essentials remain the same. Feasts of hyjol ringed with laughter in the days of old. It is no harvest feast, that time is gone. Why do they dance? What moves them so? What is in that song that echoes in my very ears centuries later this day.Ho,Ho ho, that laughter rings. That echo of Yuletide. The pull of joy.
But we are not there yet. In a different time something else was added to the story. A man was born, or so the story goes. This mans story starts two thousand and five Yuletides ago. Does he change the echo, the tune? And why on this day does Santa preside over his throne?Christmas came and the man who is "to give" has come. Give what? It is the echo of that laughter. What does it say? Why do i dance and place my meagerness into the hands of one who is me -below.
I say this story of a man echoes what this yule we're meant to do. But this stories message often gets confused. Father, son and holy ghost, tell me, tell us all what this day echoes the most? for i hear it. It is loud this day."Dashing through the snow", to the future near you, a stories laughing echo is telling you what to do.
And today at church the collection plate is heavy. But less goes there now and more goes elsewhere. Thousands and tons and more the louder the echo grows. All those letters, all those pleas to the north pole go. And what did YOU get from that fictional home? Why beg today for the echo that comes anyway? What dance am I doing on this Yules puppet strings? What force pulls me to rise from bended knee.
Focus: it's harder to hear the music this day. It's louder than ever before. It is present now this yule in your ears. That echo is something pulling your feet, that echo this day sounds between your ears. Across space and time. The pressure of it. Massive. In my soul it sounds my body to awake, hear it chime in force. defening echo of old. What is it saying? I sing the part of the echo I hear the most. I sing:
"I am a poor boy too...Pa rum papa pum...
I have no gift to bring...pa rum papa pum...
I played my drum for him...I played my best for him..."
And I give this year what I hear. The echo of the years. I have nothing to give: PA RUM PAPA PUM. And so I add to the echo. With this my pen, my art and with them I SCREAM the secret of the echo. I CRY it out as loud as I can. It is breaking me because I cannot do the echoes command. HYJOL! i scream that ancient word "HYJOL" i say listen this yule to the echo that whispers quietly from the stars this eve above.
it whispers: the short days are gone now...the sun is returning...give praise "Laudo"
do not as I, do not these days lament.
I sing the part of the echo I hear the most. I sing:
I am a poor boy too...Pa rum papa pum...
I have no gift to bring...pa rum papa pum
I played my drum for him...
I played my best for him...
And I give this year what I hear. The echo of the years. I have nothing to give PA RUM PAPA PUM. and so I add to the echo. With this my pen, my art and with them I SCREAM the secret of the echo. I CRY it out as loud as I can. It is breaking me because I cannot do the echoes command. HYJOL! i scream that ancient word "HYJOL". i say listen this yule to the echo that whispers quietly from the stars this eve above. it whispers:the short days are gone now.the sun is returning give praise "Laudo" do not as I, do not these days lament.
(a polyrythmic solstice) -by Jesse e.j. Quesnel
Echoes of yuletide can still be heard this Christmas season. As Santa grins into his expensive beard what are we to surmise about that Carol touching a part of our soul. An answer to thethe question of what music that Pinocchio-Santa-Jesus is dancing to, this answer here I purpose. What do you hear this day if not this? is the question that also here I play.
The song is nearly the same. The layers, the sound has changed. The essentials remain the same. Feasts of hyjol ringed with laughter in the days of old. It is no harvest feast, that time is gone. Why do they dance? What moves them so? What is in that song that echoes in my very ears centuries later this day.Ho,Ho ho, that laughter rings. That echo of Yuletide. The pull of joy.
But we are not there yet. In a different time something else was added to the story. A man was born, or so the story goes. This mans story starts two thousand and five Yuletides ago. Does he change the echo, the tune? And why on this day does Santa preside over his throne?Christmas came and the man who is "to give" has come. Give what? It is the echo of that laughter. What does it say? Why do i dance and place my meagerness into the hands of one who is me -below.
I say this story of a man echoes what this yule we're meant to do. But this stories message often gets confused. Father, son and holy ghost, tell me, tell us all what this day echoes the most? for i hear it. It is loud this day."Dashing through the snow", to the future near you, a stories laughing echo is telling you what to do.
And today at church the collection plate is heavy. But less goes there now and more goes elsewhere. Thousands and tons and more the louder the echo grows. All those letters, all those pleas to the north pole go. And what did YOU get from that fictional home? Why beg today for the echo that comes anyway? What dance am I doing on this Yules puppet strings? What force pulls me to rise from bended knee.
Focus: it's harder to hear the music this day. It's louder than ever before. It is present now this yule in your ears. That echo is something pulling your feet, that echo this day sounds between your ears. Across space and time. The pressure of it. Massive. In my soul it sounds my body to awake, hear it chime in force. defening echo of old. What is it saying? I sing the part of the echo I hear the most. I sing:
"I am a poor boy too...Pa rum papa pum...
I have no gift to bring...pa rum papa pum...
I played my drum for him...I played my best for him..."
And I give this year what I hear. The echo of the years. I have nothing to give: PA RUM PAPA PUM. And so I add to the echo. With this my pen, my art and with them I SCREAM the secret of the echo. I CRY it out as loud as I can. It is breaking me because I cannot do the echoes command. HYJOL! i scream that ancient word "HYJOL" i say listen this yule to the echo that whispers quietly from the stars this eve above.
it whispers: the short days are gone now...the sun is returning...give praise "Laudo"
do not as I, do not these days lament.
I sing the part of the echo I hear the most. I sing:
I am a poor boy too...Pa rum papa pum...
I have no gift to bring...pa rum papa pum
I played my drum for him...
I played my best for him...
And I give this year what I hear. The echo of the years. I have nothing to give PA RUM PAPA PUM. and so I add to the echo. With this my pen, my art and with them I SCREAM the secret of the echo. I CRY it out as loud as I can. It is breaking me because I cannot do the echoes command. HYJOL! i scream that ancient word "HYJOL". i say listen this yule to the echo that whispers quietly from the stars this eve above. it whispers:the short days are gone now.the sun is returning give praise "Laudo" do not as I, do not these days lament.
I think the world (after Courtnage)
Living will be again
inwardly splitting
the flowers
Messenger of
no one's ratio
coming loud, going
Situational needs search
numb and given
us to them
Less turns more
geminating the return
living will be again
inwardly splitting
the flowers
Messenger of
no one's ratio
coming loud, going
Situational needs search
numb and given
us to them
Less turns more
geminating the return
living will be again
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Random
Letting it bleed
reveals sensing
undulations
Never but one
true rumbling
of the hills
Sit, weep,
for what will
come is risen
At most
more often
than it is not
Knots of ecstasy
here the place
you must hear
reveals sensing
undulations
Never but one
true rumbling
of the hills
Sit, weep,
for what will
come is risen
At most
more often
than it is not
Knots of ecstasy
here the place
you must hear
Abstraction (after Ghandi)
people flow in the
avenues of living lust
defying all proof and
ordinary in a limited sense
Nothing else sees
pure the living truth
love
the supreme
good
avenues of living lust
defying all proof and
ordinary in a limited sense
Nothing else sees
pure the living truth
love
the supreme
good
Blame the terror
She went by the gates
wrapped in a holy rage
to slap the molecules
and to tear the earth
bleeds the holy terror
wrapped in a holy rage
to slap the molecules
and to tear the earth
bleeds the holy terror
Friday, December 23, 2005
Christmass Alone
Today I dressed as Santa
tonight I am all alone
except an eight legged cat
with a lampshade on it's head
that just lays there purring
needy, but beneath my bed.
Strange fate brought us together
spider kitty's tooth and claws
and lonely sining Santa:
'I won't wallow in my mind,
I'll take what I can get here,
when no one is my kind'
Beautiful faces mock me
in all the passing glances.
If they don't speak my language,
I sure don't like my chances.
I love it though it slays me.
I don't count the passing days,
I just notice every month,
when my isolation pays
tonight I am all alone
except an eight legged cat
with a lampshade on it's head
that just lays there purring
needy, but beneath my bed.
Strange fate brought us together
spider kitty's tooth and claws
and lonely sining Santa:
'I won't wallow in my mind,
I'll take what I can get here,
when no one is my kind'
Beautiful faces mock me
in all the passing glances.
If they don't speak my language,
I sure don't like my chances.
I love it though it slays me.
I don't count the passing days,
I just notice every month,
when my isolation pays
Thursday, December 22, 2005
StoneThrowers
She of the wincing gash
confused mucous dripping
alone
Sympathisers scream
and those who hate her
faithful
Mistaking her the dream
that sacrifices
so that we may live
One by one
stone by stone
confused mucous dripping
alone
Sympathisers scream
and those who hate her
faithful
Mistaking her the dream
that sacrifices
so that we may live
One by one
stone by stone
Heaven
The paper symbols
read of the life
the things that we do
Time on the road
has come and your shirt
needs changing
For the rope stitched
up the holes of old
and new layering
The will
The will
will get you
to heaven
read of the life
the things that we do
Time on the road
has come and your shirt
needs changing
For the rope stitched
up the holes of old
and new layering
The will
The will
will get you
to heaven
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
the mantis on bended knee
The Monk of Nature /the mantis on bended knee
Here I am, praying... begging...
In nature these two praying...
begging...
you will find few
praying... begging...
if you only knew praying.. and begging...
is were some of us get to
praying...begging...
when we find you praying... begging...
what else is there to do?
praying...begging...
need made it true
praying begging
i cannot stand all alone upright
so knees i bend all day and night
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Conglomerate
Wandering through the drumming looking for an exit
I'm a greater wanderer than the satisfied
Plucking fills in a rattle barking tearing hearing to be heard
Flowering the lights smell the sky working desperate to be learned
Shining faster and laughter hearing them of the many lives
I'm a greater wanderer than the satisfied
Three coloured marbles turn toward the woods
Heading for a world luminous with things
Sound and tinged with air under the emergency exits
I'm a greater wanderer than the satisfied
Plucking fills in a rattle barking tearing hearing to be heard
Flowering the lights smell the sky working desperate to be learned
Shining faster and laughter hearing them of the many lives
I'm a greater wanderer than the satisfied
Three coloured marbles turn toward the woods
Heading for a world luminous with things
Sound and tinged with air under the emergency exits
Sunlight Rings on a Winters Snow
“Teachers and priests and philosophers brood over questions of reality and illusion,
I know this: if life is an illusion then I too am an illusion
and thus the illusion is real to me,
I live, I lust, I burn with life, I slay and I am content.
And more than looking the part I feel the part
the awakening of old memories
the resurge of the mad wild glorious days of old
before my feet were set on the imperial path.
When I was a wandering mercenary,
roistering, brawling, adventuring,
with no thought for the morrow
and no desire save sparkling ale, red lips,
and a keen sword to swing
on the battlefield of the world.
Unconsciously I revert to the old ways
a new swagger becomes evident in my bearing
in the way I sit on my horse
half forgotten oaths rise naturally to my lips
and as I rise I humm old songs
that I had roared in chorus
with my reckless companions
in many a tavern
and on many a dusty road
or a bloody field. "
-Robert E. Howard
about this compilation
Image by me: oragami paper on pizza box titled: deadleaves on the dirtyground
Text Robert Howard: conan the barbarians words -source unknown
word abstractions
here, in the spirit of fostering weirdness, random and accidental collaboration (william s. burroughs called it the "third mind") and lyrical abstract expressionism, i present a word abstraction which i invite all to destory, crop, add to, re-arrange, paint, etc.
word abstractions
end one two and telephone
electrification blue
redeem echo expectorate
and
dull unlikely gradient isms
of tell due conception jumps
scatter to speaking confirm
is declarations and.
word abstractions
end one two and telephone
electrification blue
redeem echo expectorate
and
dull unlikely gradient isms
of tell due conception jumps
scatter to speaking confirm
is declarations and.
Monday, December 19, 2005
random effects
i was a bit bored and wanted to procrastinate a little, so i selected an image at random from my nine bazillion photos, gave it a bit of a cropping, and posted it as-is style, sideways and all.
now, i want everyone/no one/no man/each all and sundry to do something with this pic. photoshop it, write on it, turn it upside down.
whatevs. i think it's time to "open" the blog more. remember (for those who will) the crazy flurry of 48 emails in 24 hours? when everyone was bantering and bickering and agreeing and disagreeing back and forth? it's time to stir that pot again.
this image says religion sucks. or doesn't. or technogy is a relgion. or life is a dance and i "allow" you to lead for the time being, while i follow. or yellow always contrasts well with grey.
Auto God
slammin` in line
for the Great Beginning
anti-depressants
had the cats a swingin`
loose caps on fire hydrants
butterflies cryin`
tattoos were talkin`
and bottles were flyin`
Automatic God
tell us who you are
Automatic God
tell us who you love
the weaker thinkers
tele-speakin`
tales of
monkey`s drinkin`
Automatic God
oh my god!
for the Great Beginning
anti-depressants
had the cats a swingin`
loose caps on fire hydrants
butterflies cryin`
tattoos were talkin`
and bottles were flyin`
Automatic God
tell us who you are
Automatic God
tell us who you love
the weaker thinkers
tele-speakin`
tales of
monkey`s drinkin`
Automatic God
oh my god!
Sunday, December 18, 2005
A13thDay
I want to feel I am
a little but I am
no king in my throne
but that is perfect
beautiful choice
I believe
queen
of the freedom
in strength and will
life, love
worth
to choose duty
to choose
which tarnish
is the gift
the giggle shielding
the violence of
choice the love
of it I choose
the limitations
of what it is
I choose
I want to feel
I do a little
why is it that
no one ever knew
not even or maybe
still reach for the golden
though we knew
a type of glancing
and for some
the duty
the duty
no one ever
knew
a little but I am
no king in my throne
but that is perfect
beautiful choice
I believe
queen
of the freedom
in strength and will
life, love
worth
to choose duty
to choose
which tarnish
is the gift
the giggle shielding
the violence of
choice the love
of it I choose
the limitations
of what it is
I choose
I want to feel
I do a little
why is it that
no one ever knew
not even or maybe
still reach for the golden
though we knew
a type of glancing
and for some
the duty
the duty
no one ever
knew
Friday, December 16, 2005
Alarmist
Unfurl the
lids sleeping
on your eyes
and turn through
bridge to nares
that inspire
and contravene
a thrust outward
from tongue
to lips
into mystical
interpretation
most people are
blind to holy noises
that tingle and brush
shooting forth
hair to the divine
rage wake up
and listen
Abstraction
Liminal threads
fuel the top
of the world
for the integral
man
Spending
fortunes in
the name
of the free
strange and
satisfied
TheShiningPath
Orange growth of home
Blue smattered by a riddle
The rivers sneaking in
Almost to your very middle
The border knows of the
Thickened and the smile
Transcended and brushed
Gently by the mile
This is the shining path
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
The Logic of my Broken Form
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i am thin Just between you and -
because I had to make do I. some things don't change
with coffee and cigarettes i try to get up everyday
at the all you can eat break- but here I lay in the bed i made.
fast cafe. I can't eat "i" am not done.
the breakfast because just tired for the moment,
i don't have a golden ticket while my stomachs ache
that says "I can". is silenced by the busy sounds
I don't have a ticket of people leaving noisily
that golden says "I - their unfinished plates
can" because I'm not i want to scream:
actually staying at this hotel "no one else is living this way!"
just sleeping in the stairwell. but i choose this path
I am sleeping in the stair- between the floorboards
well because its far too cold ASK ME WHY I DARE YOU
to sleep outside anymore. because I don't have the answer
It's far too cold to sleep out- but here this i create:
side because that's the way because no one dared to report
the world turns. what to Daedalus was said:
"I can't see you" I know.
Walt Whitman RULES!!!
the innundations of WHITMAN quotes continues-- sorry, but every time i go back to this guy's stuff, i find something new that blows my mind.
(excerpt from "Song of Myself")
Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? have you reckon'd the
earth much?
Have you practis'd so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?
Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun,
(there are millions of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand,
nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either,
nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.
I have heard what the talkers were talking,
the talk of the beginning and the end,
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.
(excerpt from "Song of Myself")
Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? have you reckon'd the
earth much?
Have you practis'd so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?
Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun,
(there are millions of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand,
nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either,
nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.
I have heard what the talkers were talking,
the talk of the beginning and the end,
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.
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