A Cloud Of Luminous Fog

We interrupt normal programming to make way for the voice of the caterpillar - 
The Caterpillar Dub is the echo of the voice of The Caterpillar - 
Please listen to these dub-echoes and observe the fusion of struggle and song as a caterpillar nudges its way into the realm of the limpet - nature is a constant re-balancing and adjustment - sometimes with great fundamental upheavals - Who would ever have thought The Caterpillar would be allowed to muscle in on The Limpet with such audacious temerity!  Mind you - Caterpillars do have over four thousand muscles - considerably more than you - oh puny human-thing!  So unscrew your political head and replace it with the cloud of luminous fog that a poet thinks will pass for a head and head on into the realm of the super-gorwir Caterpillar Dub - Dub - Dub - Dub - Dub - 

This goes out to The Ghost of Sid Vicious - forever leaning on the corner of Alexandra Road outside the Garden after the Sex Pistols played Penzance - Sid died at 21 - We must all die - even caterpillars have to wrap themselves in a cocoon of their own actions and melt into a fearless and featureless sludge - poor things!  Some of these foolish caterpillars even like to comfort themselves with the illusion of reincarnation - Obviously just their egos that can-t handle the obvious fact of their own extinction - - - - bla bla bla -  
Anyway I-m locked out of The Caterpillar Blogspot so meantime and for the foreseeable alltime The Invertebrate Press will be using this here website for artistic and political purposes and you-ll simply have to accept the juxtaposition of the two different halves of my brain - I expect it will be great fun for us all so let-s just shut up and get on with enjoying it shall we ~  (Oh I don-t know what happened to Johnny-s ear but it didn-t look like that on the night!)

Global Awareness Month

– A Thirty-Day Telluric Contemplation
As you might know - I-ve been celebrating A Month Of Global Awareness by carrying the globe around with me everywhere in an "open-carry" style - The echoes of this global-dream leached out from my dreamy head into the dream-heads of others - 
The Month Of Global Awareness kicked off on 31st January - the night of the Blue Moon - with a concert at Redwing Gallery - and a few more clips from the show have surfaced - thanks to my pal Allan - Songs featured are Man Of Constant Sorrow  (Traditional American) -  White Man In The Hammersmith Palais by The Clash - Panic In Detroit by David Bowie and I-m Set Free by The Velvet Underground -

Meh - songs mainly failed to upload - probably just as well  :-)
might try again later!  If not I-ll be singing them in the street
when it hits about 68 fahrenheit - - -  out to make a shilling -

Once the 45 quid jangly Les Paul Copy finally subsided into an erie silence and the Month of Global Awareness was launched good and proper - one of the main developments to come out of the experiment was in the realm of archaeology - Considering that the "open-carrying" of the gobe was an open-ended free-spirited free-form experiment - almost devoid of plan altogether it-s significant to me that the main event of the month was the discovery of The Druid-s Throne (or rather perhaps it-s rediscovery!)  and a wonderful menhir (longstone) I discovered two days ago on 24th February 2018 - My daughter has named it The Menhir Of The Setting Sun -  Check the previous issue of The Caterpillar which you can see on The Temporary Realm Of The Caterpillar Page on this very site!

Here-s a tiny clip of some menhirs above Madron - from autumn 2017:
Boswarva Carn Settlement Madron Kernow Britain

http://yecaterpillar.blogspot.co.uk/2017/11/boswarva-carn-settlement-madron-kernow-britain.html
More on Boswarva here - 

The World Ends At St-Just 
A Lesson In Basic Awareness - 
1)  Remember - It gets quite windy up west - so - - -

2) Never take your eye off the ball - - -

- - - or you-ll end up with a ruptured globe!  

Globey slunk off to a phone-box after that to seek legal advice!

The Atomic Wind captured by the Impressionist Camera

Union of Consciousness and Matter - a moment of awareness -

Great Uncle Ingolf as Hamlet contemplating the skull of Yoric - Alas!  Death Comes Without Warning!  For I am Death - None can excell - I-ll open the doors to heaven or hell - - -

They-ve landed!

It begins - - -

With Bronze-Age menhir on an ancient track from Carn Bosavern to Koth Valley -

At the Koth Valley (aka Mastadon Central UK)

At The Druid-s Throne 24:2:2018 - Awarth idhyowek menhir yw

In the picture above the globe sits atop what I suspected to be a fallen menhir -   just above The Druid-s Throne (See previous issue of The Caterpillar) - The globe wears a garland of Sticky Weed - proof of The Return Of The Spring -

Here we see the menhir half-clothed in a skirt of ivy






Starting to show through - This prehistoric beauty stood here around fifteen hundred years before Jesus was born - - -

Forgive the ten-year-off date-stamp - One day I-ll figure out how to get rid of it!  I didn-t want to trim down the picture and snip the nose of this fine megalith -  We are looking at the base - It tapers up towards the far end very gracefully -  The illuminated face which lies towards the setting sun is completely flat - in contrast to the gentle and typical curvature of its obverse side -  The piece also features the characteristic rising and falling cracks featured on so many of these objects - This one also has groovings that would run parallel to the ground when the stone was planted - Overall length: something over eight feet - Weight:  Heavy -

It-s All Over Now Baby Blue – 13^th  Floor Elevators

I-m Set Free – Velvet Underground   

I was born in Texas - Raised in Tennessee - If you don-t like my peaches -
Don-t rattle my tree -


Brilliant Adventure – David Bowie

For in this World I have to ramble -

My Back Pages

(What follows is a backlog of previous issues of The Caterpillar that were published on the Save The Holy Headland Blogspot whilst I was temporarily locked out of this here blog!  -  The issues start with January 2018)
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Since the beings that control the internet have locked me out of Ye Caterpillar Blogspot and since The Caterpillar must go on at all costs I-ll be publishing it here until I can kick my way back into my rightful realm - 
The Caterpillar - A Visionary Ghetto Tabloid - is always followed by its echo - its doppelganger - its other side - The Caterpillar Dub - This too must pullulate and reverberate here in this monovalve-zone until such time as I summon the powers needed to overthrow the Gremlins of Blogger and seize the keys to my kingdom once more -
Meantime I will be broadcasting from this station at fifty thousand megahertz and ten thousand watts - if you experience any difficulty receiving the channel please consider sticking a bent wire coat-hanger into one of your USB ports - this should improve reception and allow transmission to flow freely - Viewers listening in mono need not fit a stereo cartridge to their equipment - Please return this blog to its dustproof jacket after use and keep out of direct sunlight - Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible - Thank you for your saintly patience and now here is The Caterpillar!
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Da Mo Shao Lin Song

So clear - so blue - so fresh -

made of nothing - broken by nothing -

inescapable - irreducible -

the good - the good - the all-good -

bam-

Da Mo at Shao Lin - 547 AD

What is known in the trade as Authentic Tibetan Om Music

Tibetan Nuns Project

https://tnp.org/

Tibetan folk songs - Nawakyipo

Sponsor a Tibetan Buddhist Nun and spread happiness

The tale of a Nunnery

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRlj2Or0IGM

John Lennon - Woman is the nigger of the world

https://www.studentsforafreetibet.org/

A classic treatise on Tibetan ethics -
 also available in other languages -

http://www.lexilogos.com/declaration/tibetain.htm

Tibetan-English Dictionary with Sanskrit synonyms - 
Sarat Chandra Das - 1902

https://archive.org/details/tibetanenglishdi00dassuoft

Note:  The Garudas have no wiki-page!  I-m not saying I-m on their side or anything but everyone has their own wiki-page these days - asuras - pretas - even country-bumpkin tory em pees have one!  I say any bird that can lay an egg in mid-air that hatches and flies before hitting the ground deserves a wiki-page of its own - and not a mere stub either!

Vanilla Fudge - Where is my Mind

Okie from Muskokee - Conway Twitty

Beisgawen yn Nyfnwal

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boscawen-Un

Silly Boy Blue - David Bowie

I-d rather be in the gutter looking at the stars than be a star looking like at the gutter - 
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Update:  18th January 2018:

The Caterpillar Dub No 106 -
The Echo of the Question That Hangs In Space

Patella vulgata rasps a pympbys razula -

Karma Man - David Bowie

Wild Nature waits out in the dripping dark night outside where the rain shatters scatters and drenches the soily clod equally - The snail in the dark forest creeps up its tree to feast and follow its foibles - horn-antennae held aloft in striking singularity unseen at night in drip-trickling rains - Its cousin on the rocky shore down the cleeves in the realm of rockpools and tidal splash - Patella vulgata - the eater of rocks - rider of storm-waves - wrastling a pympbys pullulating with oozing papillae undulating with the pulse of vivid life awrithe - Primal pympbys slinks off like an urchin radiating and spinning across the unkempt bed of the sea - An mor - glas yw an mor ha tonnek meur - the wild and restless ocean pulses with fish and glimmers with silver sheets of light cast off of the waters - a fishy eye turned skyward to glimpse a flying-fish seem to splash and gliding flying bouncing silver blur - Old krogen - the common shell of the north and west clinging to rocks and chewing into them to make a little chy - a house - a fine seat for a monovalve - etched into the rock as the million hordes of them chew and chomp at the margins of Britannia - reducing it inch by inch and aeon by aeon - gnawing and chewing and chomping the rocks away the humble salt-water snail - the krogen - the cregyn - the rock-eater -

Lithophagos goes out to graze with the tide and rasps the algaeic slime off the granite boulders - sneaking between the cities of the barnacles to meadows of non-vegetable abundance and growth - and after feasting each limpet knows the way back to its own little crater that it-s dug in the rock by following its own trail of mollusc-slime - a silver trail on the rocks you can see when the tide is high and dry - mordryk ha krogenow hunros yw -razulas rasp rawly as rain glawak drips and runnels from the shell of the krogenek creeper - dreaming himself asleep he wanders at will through the ocean - myriad sparkling glittering luminous planktonic dots drifted over from the mouth of the Miskatonic and washed the krogen along in scintillations -

Back ashore rain merges ceaselessly into the sea wetting what is already wet and deepening what is already deep - The bleenies and clingfish cling and some let go as the tide recedes and they dart across their microcosmic oceans - created twice daily by the earth-s churning waters of the moon - bleenies don-t care - just love to dart and flash across their pools and hide away when animals come and humans - The silver-worm the slow-fish the butter-fish and the bread-fish all swim together under the cleeves and the forest creaks and sighs in cyclonic gwynjak winds - From  blue to glas to grey like a whale-s back and back to glas-green and shimmering glas-glow - the ocean dark - night wet and howling gwynjak yw - Ivy rattles on elm-branches and owls pull their feathers in - Lizards know better and hide under stones and underground pedrevan and kramvil slither asleep tight-lipped without eyelids or colour - Chameleons of the Shyre curl together in the stone-cold hill - The Lizard-Kings of Oblivion off Albion at liberty to slumber saurian in secret Precambrian seance - Critters inumerable of species incalculable slide around the dark wet night and things with no name creep over ancient standing-stones planted so sure in the soil and leading straight back to the Bronze Age and before - The snails of the land chew and clip the petals of the pennywort that grows under the edge of the cromlech on the moor - A guttural grunt issued forth from up out of the earth and it was brogh - ol badger coming up out of the ground for foods - Don-t get in brogh-s way - he-ll just push straight through ya - nothing personal but he sees it different to you - And up on the hill - just under the Roundago howls the fox and slink some paws and snouts a certain nose!  A belly-up badger-corpse leers grinning with open mouth but foxy won-t touch it yet - let the ravens have first pick - foxy seeks sweeter meat and rushes through his bracken tunnels -

As dawn comes the snail raises antennae in salute to the blue - the good blue sky - the light - his bull-horn snail-horn feelers reverberating with joy as touched by the light - and the glawak spattery rain passes in curtains leaving a dripping land in the sun and sky - - -

Wet primal creatures of the dark cold wild night-s rain - what harm have you done ~  Who have you embarrassed or offended by your primal activity of going around at night ~  Why do you not pine for the things us humans have ~  Do you not all - every one of you - long to have your own computer so you can argue with other creatures you have never met in lands widely global and transcontinental locked in mental muttering bout a matter of right and wrong and who did what and wonder what the matter was and minding so much about it - minding so much speech spilled and splashed across screens of plastic light - your comment has been approved -

With summer it-s a different story and caterpillars green riddle the leaves - glas yw an gath vlewek - a little blue caterpillar creeps across a mossy stone in his native land as ragged clouds flit over and crows rook and rock the sky - Sunshine throws a different light through the green - ferns unfurl - all of life returns to the country - it-s really just the same old magic show coming back and it works every time -

All this was dreamed in a taxi-cab blazing down Holland Park Avenue where I once saw The Dead Man lying in the street - we all saw him - but this time just blazing down the avenue and across the seething city of fire-fly souls - Soon crossing familiar streets and glimpsing vistas and alleys and muses mewses courtyards and alleyways - dreamstreets - mind-s wandering vistas - maps of past experience and memory-s shadow - distant echoes - voices on the streets - surging humanity - people in coats and hats - shoppers by the countless million parade the streets - different ages of the city flash by - medieval - pre-war and Edwardian - all in the flash of a cab and the signs are changing - the journey surges on and streets unfurl - throngs pass like ocean tides and the hive buzzes with the great pulse - the cab rolls on towards wherever it trundles - lamps lit on the nose of the cab throw faint green light onto the road like the long arm of Lugh - the chariot rattles along slowly and the countless images wash over the windscreen as the driver weaves his way through well-known ways - spinning the wheel and keeping an eye on the road -

A Limpet Takes Hold

You can usually find The Caterpillar and its sister-paper The Caterpillar Dub published monthly on their own site - where you will also find all the back issues - Happy reading!


Velvet Underground - Beginning To See The Light

Small Faces - My Mind-s Eye

“Who  are  you?”  said  The  Caterpillar.  This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, 'I — I hardly know, sir, just at present — at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.'   

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Upadate:  19th February 2018:  The Caterpillar No.107  -
Global Awareness Month 


– A Thirty-Day Telluric Contemplation

Some forces of Nature pulled this great globe together from atomic dust and set it spinning and evolving from withering white-hot lava-blob to green and pleasant land and all varieties of terrain and countrie peopled and populated by all manner of wild and wonderful beasts and fabulous tribes of people beyond measure or imagination teeming forth into the dream – into the day – into the world and around the globe – the eternal ephemeral mosaic of embodied life rippling and scintillating by like an ephemeral flesh parade winding and unreeling into the dark distant light -  Forms countless coming and going in and out of existence and ghost-realms and universal atomic realities known only to those who know those realities only or so it seems clearly -  Dwelling ever in clarification and ever deeper clarification they quietly sit – unnoticed by the work-a-day World rushing by on important business – so quietly they sit and clarify and clarify the mind into clarity and ever-more-clear-clarity -  Clearly Kindness lights their smiles – Luminous they glow – ever-real – never-faking – nature-s wild ones – Quietly they sit – content in their Wildernesses – alone in their globallocal contemplation of all humanity as so many children – So quietly they sit – content in tents they sit in rain – in sun – in shade of summer trees – buzzing flies drone and Winter storms roar all sweet music to those who quietly sit – listening to the sounds of the world – the sounds of nature – the birds – the wind – the sea – insects – rustling noises in the grass – chirpings and drones – buzzings and flutters – The wind – especially sweet and fragrant the sound as it rustles the leaves in gentle soughing nostalgia – the leaves of the seasons of gold and silver of blet – frost and bloom – The wind that stirs and rustles the leaves of the trees stirs and stalks around the globe and roars around anti-cyclonic across the bleak and eldritch Aleutian Gap where the dark herring-studded waters swirl deep between Alaska and Kamchatka – Siberia and the Arctic wastes of floating pancake-ice clinking like a cold glockenspiel - - -  -  But either way and regardless these great natural forces pulled this World together some time ago and our species evolved and popped-up and now here we are today – riding the globe through space – and the more we see The Globe the more aware we become as the Globe of the Earth is an Awareness-Raising Symbol (well it is in my book anyway)

Boswarva Carn Settlement 
Madron Kernow Britain

More on Madron-s menhirs here mon

Preparing The Druid-s Throne

The Throne

The Globe Enthroned

Howlsedhes!  Setting Sun-s rays illuminate Globe atop suspected menhir - Druid-s Throne 15:2:2018



What do we know of the globe that carries us ~  Of the countless cities – farms and cultures of humankind – scattered all around this globe – even Antarctica now the proud primate swarms the planet -  a monkey in a top-hat riding a steam-train and puffing a cigar – look out World!  Here comes Homo sapiens sapiens and we mean business – Homonids – the Great Ape-Men – the proudest and tallest of these erect homos seeming superior in culture – charisma and general pizzaz – Nine Queens gathering at the circle under the midnight moon – Nine Muses –  Nine Maidens – Nine Moons – Boscawen Un – Cregynbysk bloom – sunken doubloons – ululations of the owls of the silver-tongued night – shatter the reverie – scatter the memories – rattling temerity of cyclonic barbarity – the howling tornados of time-s twisting symphony – the cauldron is kicked and the potion spills over – Wake the stones – trace the pattern of prehistory – the Sun-Trails of the Druids and the stone-studded paths of the moon – The granite fingers pointing at eternity – pointing at the sky – space -

It-s All Over Now Baby Blue – 
13^th  Floor Elevators

I-m Set Free – The Velvet Underground   

Funtime - Iggy Pop 

Brilliant Adventure – David Bowie

All I know is we-re stuck to this globe for the foreseeable – 
like it or not -    

The Buxtereide Prize

Author of The Horned Whale offers Unique Bonus Prize - 
THE BUXTEREIDE PRIZE will be awarded by the author to the first reader of The Horned Whale or An Morvil Kornek ebook who claims to have read the entire book from start to finish - 

In order to prove their claim the contestant will need to be able to answer a few simple questions on the book and display a reasonable knowledge of its contents - 
The prize will include: 
A handmade statuette of the leading character from the novel - 
personally crafted by the author-s own hands and signed in the clay - a limited edition of one - 
Signed publicity materials - 
Free copies of any future books by the author - 
A personal tour round the New Lynsmouth of the novel and its immediate environs - you will be personally taken on a journey to the unique and atmospheric real-life places that inspired the scenes in The Kramvil - 
The tour will conclude with a celebratory feast for the honoured prize-winner!
(The prize is international in nature and is open to anyone in the world - however - airfare cannot be provided nor hotel accommodation - bus-fare from Penzance will be refunded if valid tickets are shown at the prize-giving ceremony - 
Loss - injury or sudden death of contestants is their own fault - don-t try to sue my ass cause you-ll come off worst)
Literary journals of a genteel bourgeois or rabid revolutionary nature are welcome to review and critique the ouvre if such they seek - resonating cheek by jowl with the howling beaks of mediatized modernity and rattling jawbone exuberances - 
The Horned Whale  or An Morvil Kornek  by Jeremy Schanche  is available everywhere! 

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 -
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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

Megaliths Menhirs and Tewlwolow Hollows

Snaking down from the hinterland the ceaseless ancient river furls long to the dark mor of ocean- pouring through the rich verdant pasturage of the tewlwolow valley and hollow hills of home - this very same waterage being the one that the medieval peasants of Buryan mistook for the River Jordan when they set off for the crusades a thousand odd and even years back in blissful past pastures and meadows of golden mind - 

Flickering the centuries and eons flit by and crones archaic pass by unseen by eyes of yourn - the old meadow ploughed again and again - first by hartshorn hand of Beaker bloke and Keltek folk with stick and spoke the clods he broke - finding it good he camped by the wood - deep and clear and dancing with dragonflies and you could drink your fill all day - 

Spun the centuries as the world spins through space - blue the cowl against the ruddy jowls of the one-eyed wanderer and hail rattled and bounced off the icy puddles fore the leaf of spring broke the bud and the voice was heard from the beaks of the flock - Tattered cloak wrapped the huddled shoulders of the folk swarming through time and fields of golden grain - surging on - the people coming in waves - generations - a tumult - the people surge forth and the land gives them footage to run - trees loom dream and drop leaves eternal loaming the land with decayed sunlight resparkled next spring to sing again - crystal river soaks through it as a grete wyrm winds a way through lands of the singing silent sun -

Spinning sun hurls seasons to batter and caress the land juddering and sprinkling snows seeds pollens drops life-essences and hailstones - a twittering sparrow flits - flies buzz and drowze - the mead - the meadow - the dragon flie-a-drowze a-sparkle - drowzing off in the summertime meadow by the brook - by the river - the singing river of gurgle where wrens dance and hide secret in hollow nests and caves below the bank where the river turns and spins out slowly sending shales and sandbanks to break up the mosaic sparkling flow - 

Bronze children of your echoed past play here and splash in the river by the circle and play in the meadow and play through the trees singing and jumping off the great rock by the river 

Buryas Bridge Menhir

Gwidhen gwag yw ha idhyowek yn tewlwolow hunros - A hollow tree covered in ivy at dusk dreams - Trees tracery of twigs spread to the twilight sky in the valley - from out of the hollow flew a feathery old thing - it fluttered and flittered and flew back in again -

Nobody even saw it -

From the valley issued forth a vapor that sent me reeling hypnotized I spied my gull-quill pen and seizing a megalith for a rough Druidic table I scratched noisily at the parchment with brilliant quill dipped in dripping squid-ink - my propinquity-

Gulls rooked the crows and leafs dry spittle-brown sprinkle down and kommolek fog brews the Cornishe Sky to down-falling tewlwolow mist - molecules and myriads -

Ghostly riders troupe through the sky glimpsed only by badgers bats and lonesome crepuscular muscle-men creeping disguised as archeological overblown arachnid-poets of the blustering Western Marches -

You get a lot of them round here -

Vapors boulders flood-plains as the river-meadow shoulders a curve - dragonflies swerve over and when wrens flit kingfishers are sure to follow -