Out Of The Cocoon

Street scenes of the everyday night – Phone-boxes of the street-corner hook-up – Phones off the hook and hangs dangling by the wire – Carriages rattle past oblivious to the pathos of the scene – Here-s where – tendrils whirling – I have had the melting experiences of meeting the Caterpillar – encountering the entity face to decapodic face – Katapliktkos and simultaneously cataleptic this beast flowed with a natural rhythm that defied artifice and nullified the bourgeois mind in one fell swoop -  This Caterpillar was the repository of myriad untold dreams from many creatures of many aeons and epochs of singular collective popular and universal flow and human surge through time-s tapestried halls and space-s unfathomable caverns – the lucky beast!  
Well luck was with the humans too as the gifts of caterpillactic knowledge culture and science would soon be spread amongst – disseminated among and generally bestowed upon a seething and pullulating species of monstrous dream-primate sometimes known as Homo sapiens sapiens – the thinking man-s ape –

Dreading that forces unfavourable to the transmission of these cultural treasures were at work – pitting their unwholesome strength into an attempt to thwart the Caterpillar-s work – he reacted by spinning a cocoon of activity – changing form and occilatory-rate – seeming to become more aethereal yet palpably sentient and present – almost human – no – much more than human – and so capable of seeing into the human heart – the human body and blood – the endocrines and adrenalin – the biological underlay that has such influence on the constitution and thus on the typical thought-process – He could observe all these things with his sweeping – scanning antennae and drink in the essence of any activity to which he was exposed –

Plankton-papyri and ambergris archives were opened and revealed by the hundred feet and the swirling papillae – namely the psychic-antennae but fundamentally he would work by direct-communique – he could talk straight into your mind – thus eliminating the need for the crude semaphore of flapping lips and tongues – the monotonous music of the human voice was obsolete and seemed unutterably primitive once he had established the direct method and cut out the middle-man of verbal verbosity -  Such things as happen in red public phone-boxes at midnight in the main streets of Kernouac towns – namely in Pendoze – a quiet little place by the sea where nothing much ever happens – a cobbled hobgoblin hovel huddling high on ramparts of steel-slate pewter skies -  

                                                                                    *

{For your mini Caterpillar chapbook simply print - fold and cut as previously instructed - a video will appear on this one day - meantime - if you-re stuck - ask your kids!}

                                                                         *

Feel like I-m under water – like I-m in a trance and I can-t wake up – My mind is blunt and I can-t wake up -  Handel bludgeons me unconscious with his ancient formal-garden layouts - lead-lethargy is aemic and osseous - invading the body with its insidious weight - puling as gravity pulls and wrapping bladder-wrack around me ankles as I stumble and tumble in slumber I wander and seek and search and wonder still with head aloft unto the sky and to the stars my eye doth shine a twinkling reflection of all this - of all this -

All twinkled in the eye of a reflective movement like the birth - life and explosive death of a vast Universal System - a Tri-Chilocosm - a Maha-Loka - Births coming and going and exploding and popping like thoughts - The thoughts of an ant - The thoughts that fill the head that fills the aunt-s hat - The ant-s heart and the hart-s panting breath - Breathess entranced - the Arhat has no thoughts -

                                                                                       *

Inexhaustible realms of consciousness - States of mind - programmes - mental-worlds - mind-sets - beliefs - feelings - feelings - feelings - feel - 

                                                                                        *

Death-s Little Imps come and tap you on the shoulder - Mini-deaths - deaths miniaturized and minisculed - death-hints delivered by the Imp Servants of the Skeleton Lord - A bony finger taps you on the clavicle - "You haven-t got forever you know - 
What do you think you-re doing ~  
What do you think you-re doing~" 



Phenomenal flow radiating through the tangible part of the universe - atomic poetry unravelling into molecular chemistry and cellular biological entity - Hallo human - please step forward - you-re on -     It-s your show - You are the star - it-s yours - all yours - your world - take it - take it easy but take it - take it back to the source and shake it - take it to the shiny void - to the misty cloud - to the starry sky - take it away and sing it to life - offer it life and reflect on it -
Ravens and crows have plenty to say -

The last thing you need is more words in your head - but have some anyway - just in case you do - Anything is better than serious media - a squawking crow is a refreshing sound after you-ve enjoyed the sound of ten thousand fiddles steeped overnight in maple-syrup by demented goatherds  - punctuated by the percussion of krogens - carapaces - cocoanuts - goat-skulls - tongueless bells and drums that don-t stick - The sound of falling earth is sweeter than any radio and the sea has more to say than ten million monkeys all chanting the words of Shakespeare - Chaucer and Dickens - So in the light of these revelations you can follow this trail back to the realm of the Caterpillar!