Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Thoughts on Toronto

sleeping grey termite angels don't forget the earth
give brith to hgh tech renunciation of the foreign occupation
the situation needs an ultra-radical reinvestigation
reinterpretation by the ultimate Dungeon Master
Spell caster
Don't watch TV. Beleive me there's nothing more important at the moment
than sharing the salty honey. Lot's of money coming for your liberation.
Le front du liberation du Quebec sent a big cheque. Check it out, they want to know when's the next referendum. Referendum of the soul. Mind control. Everyone here is a hobo. All praise the Rastaman Richard Nixon because he likes it straight with no fixins. Espionage and medieval torture. Sorting the wheat from the chaff. Selling Cocaine and Hash to an undercover cop dressed in plain clothes.

Wandering alone on the streets in Winter. Lost without coffee. The cost is too high. Get high tonight somewhere in th subway. Subteranean anarchists. Terrorism therapists offering prescription medication to cure your kindness. Feed you blindness to the violence of the babylon system. New mission: wake up, tune in, turn on, drop out, rise up singing. Bringing on a dark Raven. Stop shaving. Grow your hair long like a cro-magnon man. The infinite potential of the human species wil explode like feces on a fan.

Nubile pixie maidens skinny-dipping with the thunder god Raiden. Wack Mc's fading fast can't outlast the energizer. Dealing legitimate ryhms and rythems to the masses. Casting neolithic necromancy. Bringing on the classless society. Anxietites about mouths to feed diminish in the finish because King Arthur's fish get fried on a round table. Not in the oval office.

Tibetan Demon with a thousand arms. You can't steal me lucky charms. Hydroponic farms in space. Supersonic narsissus. Antarctic foxxy lady slim shady cowgirl camoflauged like a cobra hood over the eyes rising up to meet my maker. Gonna have a soul shake down party tonight. can't fight the vapour.

I Poured some liquid nitrogen into my third eye so that I can see the guy who sings the lullaby of creation. Instigating noble discussion. Sonic Cuncussion on the heads of demons living within the percussion. Fussin anf fighting. Flying giant kytes into space. Chasing the Chaser. The race is against my doppleganger.

Jeweled case unlocked with a skelaton key coat hanger. Headbangers and hippies together at last. Past lives relived again and again. Pain and pleasure weighed against a lead feather. The tickle trunk has tobacco and knives inside. Raw hide whip weilded by the sky mistress. Distress signals from mother earth. What's your soul worth if it's cold and old and all your stories have already been told?

Yet infinite images appear on the screen. Same goddess, different dream. Prostitution in mayan temples. Simple overhauls of Roman consitutions. Draconian principles inacted by proto-human beings. Seeing aliens between thought and vision. Imprisoned like mosquitos in amber.

The hamburgler stole the burgerkiing's crown And wendy'sfrown won't fade now the Peter has moved n to another Never-Neverland. He's thinking: If only tinkerbell wasn't so tiny. If only the shooting star wasn't so shiny Id ride that rocket into the stratasphere.Now Im thinking clear outsidethe sphere. Must be the high percentage Lucky Beer. Like Kim Jong Ill I rule a rogue nation. Patience being a virtue. Virtual sex emailed by federal express for 56 cents a minute.

Chicken hawks soaring through the radiation sky, searching for petroleum on a linoleum floor. Get out of my kitchen or Ill give you a lickin you won't soon forget. I went to Wonderland in Washington DC. You arrested my freinds but can't catch me. Impressive architecture. Beautiful city. Check out the choppers aren't they pretty. Look at the coppers, beaten by a kitty.

Where is the terror? It's over the ocean. Attached to the kaoss machyn of perpetual motion. Everybody do the locomotion. The ocean is Bacardi Gold Rum. All the pirates have Bombay Bum. Scum on their shoes. Clues left by criminals. Picked up by sherlock Holmes dressed like a primitive wearing headphones.

Love from above like heaven's dove. Quit my job pulling weeds. All my needs like lint in the dryer. Girl we can still get higher so come on baby light my fire. Where's the flint? Fred Flintstone was the archeological mastermind behind the Navaho find. a crystal machine built by the ancients. A stone age rocket designed with patience.

Conclusion:

Ill bet your wondering why Im wasting my time tasting the otherworld with broken music and absurd rymes. it's all about breaking out of rational thought. Don't try to think cuz you're bound to get caught. left to rot in the Maya realm of duality. reality is not one, not two, but three and everything in between. So stop trying to figure it out and just be. Check it out the phat beats up in your house. Feeling the punk arse beats deep up in your house. Smoke tiger eats fire inside your house. Smoke Tiger clan way back in your house. Hands in the air the smoke tiger's there. Getting down low is the smoke tiger's show.

Hi-Fi, low tech, lowerworld, uppperdeck. Front row vortex. Pirate sex on tropical islands. Find the booty in the forgotten mine. eye and I be praisin the rastafari. Godkings keeping it up for the most high. Sensimillion miles away from the Tower of Babylon.

Under the awning of limited perceptions. Reflections of stoneage awareness. Speech inlfections unlocked through intoxication. Aproximations of when Im going to die. Mass media promoting perpetual dust in the third eye. Blind to our enlightened potential. Influential pop stars fulfilling consequential roles in monumental mythological mass-conciosness auditoriums. Prophets placed in insanitoriums. race war cartoons. Neo-con goons faking trips to the moon. Im marooned in a lagoon of loniliness. My platoon will soon perish in the war against the american sherrif. Cherish these days of abundance. Substantial development in the fulfillment of fun. dancing with your arms waving in the air as if you were riding a bucking bronco.

tatanka the white bufalo god called, he thanks the tanks and ranks of wankers who sank the titanic. But I think he was talking in riddles. Because God's fiddles don't sound for those who twiddle their thumbs instead of getting with the dopest shizzle. Smoke Tiger is soft like drizzle then BANG lightning strikes feel the blaze hear it sizzle.

Pictish warrior dressed like Zorro. Tommorrow never comes for yesterday's joys and sorrows. savor it all like the saviors life saver. Midnight Ravers ride the waves of bioelectric ice cream flavours.

I am a thermodynamic entitiy overdosed on time smoking ectoplasm in a kayak on the Rhine.

2 comments:

Quitmoanez said...

Very nice oh three-worded one.

:)

D. Sky Onosson said...

Wow! An epilepsy-inducing wakeup call!