Muse Of The Palpitating Streets

Keep your secrets sweet - Muse of the Palpitating Street - I never forget those times we meet - palpitating muse in the street - Even on opposite sides of the Street - this kind of magnetism is powerful and complete - Serenely walk my way you glorious Muse and shine your rays into my crystal heart - let nature be nature and light the luminous path serene - subtlety emerging - naturally knowing - I know not how to know of the unseen -

In my crepuscular bat-wing chariot
I-ll swoop for you at dusk as day fades
to velvet scattered night -
chasing you across the sky
on the back of an albatross sea-going eagle -
the albatross-back of a muscular bat -
the mojo of a raven - a nightjar -
bumble-bees of the muttering night -
hollow shells whisper and dry leaves rustling -
knowing nothing I seek everything -
tasting everything
I know the ecstasy of no-thing-ness
flowing mind a tide of insubstantial bliss -
everywhere and nowhere all the time -
starfish wave and fishes backs
reflect the stars in the waves -
the moon pulls the water -
the earths surge - earth upon earth -
falling leaves in time - frozen in a puddle -
smoke curls up - starlings will take your mind -
why not let them -
---------------------

Syd Barrett - Terrapin

Beach Boys - Endless Dub

Bowie In Dub

Swinging London

Πού 'σουνα (Η εβδομάδα)

Γεωργακοπούλου-Χιώτης

Light in the sky - looming -
Atmosphere gathers - a breeze wanders -
Dusk folds in and the sky hums with voices -
Spirits ride the breeze -
But lovers walk the earth at night alive -

To Beauty

The sovereign stream of consciousness within this autonomous skin surges up over the valley and flies over the Tolcarne Rock - Leaping the valley with an aery celestial bound the empty foot launches into glistening air and fingers spread out like a black raven - The flying dreaming mind loves to career through the air and fly over the valley like a buzzard - bargos yw - bluebird with feathery shimmering wing - This bird knows the deal and despite the flim-flam schpiel is not fooled by chimeric thoughts - justs likes to play them - likes to chirp and say them - just likes to fly feathery free and can't help loving the shining rays of the sun that stream down the hill - the rays of the sun so shy smiling looking down and throwing light into the aerial-drifter's fluttery heart -

Terrapin - Syd Barrett

Love Song - Syd Barrett

Queen Majesty - The Techniques

Love Oh Love - Max Romeo

Nowhere To Turn - Byrds-Beatles

Wish You Were Here - A Day In The Life - Pink Floyd-Beatles

We Love You - The Rolling Stones

2000 Light Years From Bolan - Rolling Stones-T.Rex

Queen Jane Approximately - Bob Dylan

Let's Get Together - H P Lovecraft

9780993490910 is the number of my book - The Horned Whale or An Morvil Kornek           

Music archives

Song to the Muses     Dub of the Muses

Odd Mycology

The Mind - flowing with awareness like a river - 
you can-t have a river without water - 
you can-t have mind without awareness - they are the same thing - feeling - sensing - emoting - cognitive function and conceptuality - these are all aspects of the mind - all based on its fundamental ability to be aware - its awareness - simple awareness itself -
The mind can go through innumerable realms - ordinary - extraordinary - pure and impure - clear and deluded - sacred and profane - it-s all in the mind - what we perceive and what we conceive are all within the mind - where else - - - it-s the same mind - deluded or clarified - calm or agitated - the same mind -
Thoughts and beliefs and of course experiences can colour the personality or superficial layers of consciousness - Like a collection of ornate lanterns - personalities are the characteristic and unique containers for the universal and undifferentiated brilliance and radiance of awareness itself -
Almost 40 years ago I fueled my mind with the sacred Druidic fungi that blossom in the Autumn and have been used by humans for countless millennia - In the November issue of The Caterpillar I described my experience - in this Dub Issue of The Caterpillar I-ve re-mixed my impressions of this long-past experience into a piece of psychedelic art - seemed like the thing to do with it all these years later - 

Essentially the Mind is Good - - - - - - -

Ahead Of Thoughts

A baglamas and a travelling guitar balanced on a menhir - a fallen and ravaged menhir - tewlwolow dusk on Halloween -   just an everyday scene in the Shyre where the ancient past is right there with you to help you along your way - 

Ο ψαράς - O Psaras - The Fisherman -

and awareness is right there in your hands - - -

Thoughts Of A Head

I raise my soul I raise my fist I raise my lips for the gods to kiss      a mortal man I fade and die and melt back conscious to the sky

Stratos Pagioumtzys - O Psaras - The Fisherman


Hingala - here is a recording I came across over 30 years ago - back in 2000 my band Eastern Green used to play an instrumental version of Hingala -


A Life-Changing Album for me when I bought it second hand from a shop in Shepherds Bush Shopping Centre in 1982- a magic moment for me
Τραγούδια Και Χοροί Της Στεριάς 2 - Songs And Dances Of The Greek Mainland
introducing me for the first time to tunes like this:

ΤΑΣΟΣ ΧΑΛΚΙΑΣ -

Ο ΜΕΓΑΛΥΤΕΡΟΣ..Ο Λ Ω Ν

Μοιρολοι με γυρίσματα * Πετρολούκας Χαλκιάς

Or wander up to Romania and hear a world of amazing music from a magical land

Our laughter rings around the world a turquoise banner bright unfurled our love shines out to people far and near beneath the shiny stars -
Well I guess that just about covers everything - don-t forget to tune back in for the Dub Version - - -

Give 'Em Enough Dub

The Caterpillar Dub 102 brings a flurry of Dubs, remixes, echoes and sound-collages, so re-wind your tape-players, switch on your amps and soak it up.  Tikki-Diw butterflies flutter by and the caterpillar ruminates abstractedly on the infinite power of music.

Check out my ebook: The Horned Whale by Jeremy Schanche

The Archaic, The Brythonek - Inscribed on the Heart of the Land

*  Glyphs 'n' scriffs encrypted on slivers of silver mythological spliffs betwixt a Gryphon's lips exude ear-splitting licks, riffs 'n' silly tricks, still it's only with a smile so it helps to be sunny on a day like this.  **  Leaves fall - rain falls - stars fall - flesh falls - epochs fall - rains fall - seeds fall - dew falls - light falls - sun falls - radiance falls - breeze falls - a leaf falls -  ***  Hymns in homage to hunros, oneiro, reverie and dreams dream itself - lulled and hypnotized into hypnogogy by the feathery hands of Peristeris, the 9/8 rebetikou guitar-man with the mercurial rippling zeibekiko guitar runs - ****  So anyway, there I was, walking down the road  *****  Visions from another brother, visions of the yogic, the aethereal and the hypnotic sacred mystery awoken by the Shaman's rattling snare-drum - ******  

The Notorious Byrd Brothers...

Hear the great Greek guitarist and composer Peristeris (The Dove)....

Fougou!  Visions Bone Well Quercus robur QVENATAVCI IC DINVI FILIVS Druids  Mind itself

Pathways of the Celestial Bodies Inscribed on the Keltek Landscape in Antiquity

At first I was joking when I used to say I was 'going back to the Bronze Age', but quite soon the joke was on me and I found myself enshrouded in the crepuscular Keltek dusk of Kernow's tewlwolow husk.
The stones broke through like teeth emerging.
One finger points to another.
A long shadow cast by the moon.
Defend, Cultivate, Observe - study the Universe.
Honour nature.
Unlock the code.
Discover what is to be known - nature, the stars, people, the ocean, insects, your dreams - all one.

Well the ray of the moons' glow bounded off the tongue of a sleepless lark and glittered hard against the Druid's old stone tower.  Some things never change.  Bits of sunlight glimmered, glistened, glittered and glinted in a shimmering frazzle of dazzling glare, looming and rearing up all radiant daring to blaze through the haze and shazzam through the fleeting vaporous spindrift shimmer.  
The eye of seeing saw to it that the mind of knowing knew the deal.
Nature resplended in its entire perfection.
Nature comes with thorns.
Nature comes with horns.
Nature flows inseparable from the mind that perceives - thus, 'you are the eyes of the Universe.'

The entire fleshy, rocky and salt-water-croc-riddled trip centres around ye, the experiencing perceiver at the centre of the web, the heart of 'reality.'  
Well, if the whole Empire of Dust is pulling one way, might as well pull the other way, blazing up with the fire from the diamond-eyes of the stars.  Blaze against the cold steel rail, the numbing aparati of stagnation and the death of freedom - blaze away and rave, rage and rant - it's always better that way.  Rock the joint with ten thousand watts of pulsing rhythm and the wailing and popping cones of a hundred speakers, barking and yelping out their joyful song of life.  Just don't turn down the music if you want to meet the Muse.
*** 
Stay back where you are - you wouldn't like it here - this is not your place - stay in your age, you'd despise these weak and sneaky moderns with their stinking fire-chariots and their life of utter weakness.  There's nowhere left to run a horse and the game's all gone.  The chase has been replaced by the queue - they have these things called 'supermarkets' - stay where you are, my dear bronze ghosts, for you'd certainly hate it here.  All the towns are in the wrong places and nothing is aligned with nothing - Says it all - stay where you are - I'll come to you.
***
Rita Abatzi - One of Greece's greatest singers of our era:


Some stuff about my book, The Horned Whale... a Celtic Mystery Tale from Ancient Brittania

The pathways of the sky, painted across the land - a gift from the Old Ones, for those who have eyes to see.  

An Gath Vlewek Dasson 100 / The Caterpillar Dub 100 - The Bloom, The Mule and The Looming Blossom of The Luminous Jade Pagoda of Jasmine Fragrance (a.k.a.: Asiatic Stridulation Frenzy Dub)

Like a puffer-train pulled by a drunken mule, The Caterpillar Dub Number 100 finally rolls off the press and hits the news-stands, where it is quickly snatched up by an eager public, ever-hungry for news of the Unconscious-Front and developments in the inner and outermost realms of the Alaya Vijnana, the Deva Loka and sundry realms hither, thither and higher than you know - right here - under your nose.
In an illusory world, what could be more appropriate and needed than an ephemeral and non-substantial journal, of which this is the mere echo, the mere shadow of a shade, perhaps dreampt of one drowzy summer afternoon, many long summers ago, if I do remember arightly.
Gather ye blessings, my brothers and sisters, my old ones and young ones -gather ye virtues and kindnesses and ye shall be blessed with a bliss that blossoms in deepest fragrant bloom - the Great Kindness that hides within, like the tree within the seed.  The carefree seed of joy - hey ho the heart that hateth not is free indeed.
Well hey I could waffle on like this all night but I expect you're all waiting for the hard-news, the in-depth, investigative journalism and fearless reporting that has given The Caterpillar Dub it's hard-won reputation in the world of international journalism.  So anyway babies, here's The Dub Version so I hope yous enjoy it -

Well the blurb is being mixed in the print-house and they're just getting the glue to the right consistency - these things are important you know.  When the alphabet runs low, they simply import some characters from the collective unconscious - it's a process of Universal Flow and it's what gives The Caterpillar Dub it's peculiarly and distinctively local feel.  Worlds melt and collide, forming colloids and celluloid jelloid gelatinous constellations that spin in joyous union with time and mind.  Other journals tend to focus on more mundane matters that the clitter-clatter of a Caterpillar's glittering antennae in the dew-drop morning of the promise of magic - well,so be it.  Anyway, ya know where to go when you wish to meld with the flow.  Not a shilling, not sixpence will ye be asked, nor thre'pence, tuppence nor nout whatsoever as The Caterpillar Dub is a freely given echo, straight from the heart of the original Caterpillar, which is itself beyond cost, price, feathers and mice.

Don't forget to check out my book - it'll rip ya soul out.
The Horned Whale or An Morvil Kornek by Jeremy Schanche

Here's some jams I like to listen to

The Lyre of Apollo

Being, streaming, conscious awareness feeling the Universal Flow - More than this you probably won't find - More than this I do not know.

The Caterpillar No.100 / An Gath Vlewek 100 - Oh Yea, Oh Yea, Here Ye The News! (Calling The Carapaced Muse)

Well a ripple forms up out of the aether and up rises The Caterpillar, lost in the fog again.  Where have you been?  What have you seen?  What have you to tell of The Shyre and it's perpetual dream?  Many leagues have I laboured and many versts have I vaulted, faultlessly vaunting a Raven's crawk, I rattled back to town and blended in with the sleepers.  Now I drift among them, a globose and gelatinous thing of the night, putting cats and dogs to fright with the fire in my jelloid orbital eye. Back from the Ancestral Lands where Spirits seethe in blissful ecstatic writhe, churning in a sea aethereal and glassy I brood gothic and austere, as lichen clings to the unspeakably ancient rock.  Moss my bed and granite ivy and rooks for a pillow of illusion, dew-drenched and peeped at by wrens.

From the soul of your scribe streams a scroll of jive, freely given with aethereal fingers five, a pympbys starfish is a five-fingered hand - left hand stranded on the spindrift sands till time waves a hand holding a magic wand and oceanic billows crash - the thought-waves of a sea of mind.

Yes me friends, let the sun stream into your hearts, the jewel-like crystal images into your minds - from an autumnal hay-field blows a golden breeze bringing a gift from the Goddess of Harvest, the richness of the Dreamland, scattered to the breezes of summer's end.  A tear trickles down the marble face of a Karyatid and a faughn shivers in the morning dew.  Light glistening through a clear glass flask onto a pure flower of violet - memories of a youthful idyll, a bliss of the mind, a blessing, a wish, a dream, globules, crystaline fragments and jewels of the inner-lit-mind.  Poetry poured from the horn of the proclaiming piper, a figment at the Gates of Dawn, wrapping his purple cloud cloak around shoulders of shimmering bronze, towering, ancestral, imaginary, wrought of jade, ivory and mother-of-pearl, you ride the Keltek breeze and guard the souls of the tribes of old, your eye sweeps the ocean deep and scatters souls to sleep.