Crystaline Fish Slippeth Forth Full Shine Silvery

The Caterpillar is beamed to you from beyond the carapace of eternity in the shell of the infinite sky and the everlasting moment of golden sunlight and silvery moon–merriel on the face of the ocean at night -  

No wind-s whistling wild nor string-quartet-s smile can ripple the Caterpillar-s carapace nor alter his lepidopteral pace one inch nay give him grace for he is not of this world and cometh forth from deep realms of sleep his secrets not to keep but to spill forth sharingly unto ye frothy worlde of day upon which ye sunlight doth sometimes playe – oh yea – oh yea – lack a day ye lackadaisical daisy picker and sleek city-slicker – lack ye never a day I say!  For amongst ye The Caterpillar has come to play – 





Beyond the carapace - - -

The Dream Flows Awake

Come in my friends - come on in and take a seat in this Platonic cave of dreams and colourful illusions and chimeras - The luminous liquidescent resinous flow of Rebetiko fills the air - 
This music that is all soul - all Muse - all dance with 9 beats to the bar and thousands of years of culture in the measure - Dripping liquid amber in the voice of Stratos Pagioumtsys and the hands of Vasilis Tsitsanis scatter magic sprinkling dust over the stings of his ebony Olympian bouzouki - These sounds of the soul speak uniquely of a time and place Greek - resplendent in the sun dappled drowze of yesteryear-s 30-s phonograph pine-cone past -  Rippling silver strings drizzle drips of fine treble notes amongst the collected warblings of the Kompania -  The group swoops into song - climbing the irregular pavement of nine steps - ascending to the exalted heights - the fields in the sky -  the golden fields - 

ΜΕΣ' ΤΗΝ ΠΟΛΛΗ ΣΚΟΤΟΥΡΑ ΜΟΥ -

ΣΤΡΑΤΟΣ ΠΑΓΙΟΥΜΤΖΗΣ - 1938 

The Laughing Choughs of the Feathery Roads of the Sky

Fashionably late here is last month-s edition of The Amazing Caterpillar Dub - The World-s Most Popular Newspaper!  Oh yeah!  

Pyrrhocorax pyrrhocorax - Fire-Crow fire-crow

Well they Do say - - -



Wheal Roots - The Greensplat Jynn-Kebber and other Underground Ephemera from Kernow (aka Cornwall)



μπουζούκι

The Caterpillar Laughs

For some years now the elder eldritch lepidopteral lava had been crepuscular-flitting and transmitting the pieces of the Minoan Mosaic Culture to me via mystic meet-ups at the midnight phone-box in Pendoze – Behind the Hump-Me Dump-Me statue - In the heart of the old Jewish Market District – near the wharves where whalers rot unsung at rusty anchor and doubloons rattle in the silt and bilge underfoot – Katapliktikos was the Great Antennaed One as he quixotically and osmotically beamed soft luminous neon blue-white rays from his ancient centres of knowledge and shone them my way – Such was the power of the rays I was frequently stunned and on occasion rendered totally unconscious – only to come to some time later – slumped in the midnight phone-box – some time after midnight now of course and rain rattling on the carapace shell of the tiny glass hut -  Never without the glow of celestial knowing do he leave me before going back to the myriad unravelling ways of the night and the mystic business of his thread-spinning and weaving kind -   In tubular glass vials and philes of philtres he left chemicular imprints of significant finds in the realms of organic-structure and the nature of all things -  On waxen cylinders he left strands of music in many forms and styles for a vast range of instrumental forces -  Jars and pots and chests and boxes of scrolls and parchments he passed on and also glass slides and photographic images in many forms – Keys – cyphers – clues – lexicons and harbingers were left loaded – pointing the way to yet more doors to kick open and unleash the collected forces of many cultures and powers – many magical traditions and shamanic studies were included in the ken of the Caterpillar-s whirling feelers – his sentient all-embracing mind flowed over with cultural knowledge and inside nature knowledge like a mighty fountain that sprayed the pigeons that played at its splashing feet -   Shedding the hasps and masks of identity and mortal conformity he re-emerged and re-appeared constantly in ever-slightly-changed forms – ever aetherial and elusive – ephemeral and insubstantial – more idea than flesh-body – more thought-form than sinew – this beast was composed of the very threads of mind-stuff and knew no such limits as ye or I do know – So to learn of lute and lyre and kindle Olympos-s fire in company with this great ephemeral creature was joy untold and over aeons did he the tale unfold – Ever holding in the folds of his robe a book – a telescope and a globe – therewith to scan the scene and scour the worldly-realme and surf upon the billows of the foamy deeps and bustle free and high among the puffy clouds of cumulus nimbus blue and aether and jazz on in the sunset-s gorgeous dripping scarlet purple honey of a sunset howldrehevel evening on old Kernouac Cornish cliff most high and gritty grained bulwark of Atlantek-s roaring shore -   Zeibekiko he scratched with peculiar charm on the many-stringed lyre he clutched with several of his iridescent exoskeletal arms as he spun the melody in slow sedate largo nine eight shuffle – A noble rhythm for an eagle with wings outstretched or circling vulture high above the mountain-valleys looking for carcass with bead of an avine all-spying eye – Thus did he vouchsafe:

Melting myself constantly –

I dissolve into cocoon silk -

Then I spin again –

Afresh the tale unwinds –

You won-t unravel me by grasping at the thread -

This tale starts at the centre –

                                                                                                        *

Winding country road – Many years ago – Leaves blowing from the trees – Yellow the light of the sun – Rain had been driving in sheets – Mellow the smell of the earth – Birds were returning to song – Scatter the light of the sun – Raindrops on dewdrops on grass – Bush-crickets running for shelter – ants sliding skilfully down their holes – Rabbits are running for cover – Thunder breaks dark clouds in two – dark covers over the sky – coolness fills into the air – breeze softly mumbles around – leaves stirs about on the ground – windy and starting to rain – drops big as coins hit the ground – Ears of the forest look round – eyes that have listened to the ground – Skin that has smelt all the ground – whiskers that twitch with the sound – listening the forest around – creatures are stirring in sound – breath coming out of the ground – badgers are mulling and brooding – snorting and snuffles and grunts – badger-breath sticky and hot – Fly hiding under the leaf – glistening radiant eye – shiny the carapace glows – thorax and feelers as one – Well the moving of the morning was unfolding and the waters of the ocean were all seething with scintillating light the waters dancing and all around the winds were softly singing and the hearts of countless people lifted upwards and the rain of light fell gently on the people and the laughter of the throngs was like an ocean and the dancing in the streets was like a heatwave and the singing went right through the flowing morning and the fires still burnt on by nightfall-s darkling and the sparrow and the starling were rejoicing and the ivy was entwining with the elder - 

Print - Cut centre-slit - fold into your eight-page miniature edition of The Caterpillar Dub (This month-s edition features The Luminous Three - Sakyamuni Buddha - Quan Yin and Lao Tsu)









melting from the edges - the surface dissolves to leave only the radiant centre - 

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

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.

Tectonic Horn Shell

A series of old photos showing  

protocols 

among pigeons, owls, feathers, bucks, fowls

eggbirds of the starry night’s rustling feathered web                 * * * * * * *

Eldritch and monotonous moans

swirl lurk bloom

barking like wolverines

among the nipple-mountains of pale wood-cells

stark blasted forests

shattered mountains

fragmented and writhing seas

darklight skies

& Auricularia auricula-judae

gwynjak yw hethyw

look to the sky

hurling her visions

through 

your 

awareness

Το φιλί δεν είναι κρίμα
- Βασίλης Τσιτσάνης

Πίνω και μεθώ - Κασιμάτης

(Οφ αμάν) Συνθέτης Περιστέρης Έτος ηχογρ. 1934 

Πίνω και μεθώ, οφ αμάν, μέρα-νύχτα τραγουδώ, οφ αμάν

Μέρα-νύχτα τραγουδώ

Και το ντέρτι μου, οφ αμάν, στο μπουζούκι μου ξεσπώ

Γένηκα μπεκρής, ωχ αμάν, χασικλής και μερακλής, ωχ αμάν

χασικλής και μερακλής

Γιατί όλο λες, ωχ αμάν, κούκλα μου πως δε με θες

Τα ματάκια σου, ωχ αμάν, και τα κορδελάκια σου, ωχ αμάν

Και τα κορδελάκια σου

Με τουμπάρανε, οφ αμάν, και με κογιονάρανε

γειά σου δερβίση μου Ζαχαρία γειά σου

Πώς μου τα 'φερες, οφ αμάν, και μου την κατάφερες, οφ αμάν

Και μου την κατάφερες

και μου το 'σκασες, οφ αμάν, μέ το μάγκα το 'στριψες

(γειά σου Σπυράκι μου με το μπουζούκι σου)

Θα 'ρθω, Μια Γλυκιά Βραδιά 
– Στράτος  Παγιουμτζής



Clustering galactic jewel-net             sterennek

     

     the thought of the jewel is the jewel 

               flags wave in the wind, mind

  Πίνω και μεθώ  -  Κασιμάτης 

           

          turning world most dear

   the following a furlong:  shafts of sunlight luming the cool waters of the pond;  verdant path a tunnel of summertime green;  purple cobwebs of glowing coral cow-horn shell-horn horn of the sea and corn of the prairie pod pea;  humus loam subtle bonfire waft, rotting sycamore leaves, rooks cawing and carking;  the tolling of a bell, crunch, crisp, snow, windmills and dust and valour;  

                  Ocean of mind; sea of space 

           pale orange sunlight on faded brickwork;

         the distant hooting of a hooter,

            lowing cattle;  water-meadows;

          cowslips, cowlicks, cows, bullhorn                           rumblers 

                 dew-drop drip from a fern and 

                     fleck the hoof of a fleeing faun

Elder Mountains of the Moon

The elder mountains of the moon

loom 

the bark shrunk

breasted with nipples   clusters

ranges and fissures 

stark

no bark

left

jews ears wobble

gwynjak yw

white bones rattle the sky

hollow-fluted old one – why?

ΠΙΝΩ ΚΑΙ ΜΕΘΩ - ΡΕΜΠΕΤΙΚΟ ΣΥΓΚΡΟΤΗΜΑ ΘΕΣΣΑΛΟΝΙΚΗΣ



Παγιουμτζής-Περπινιάδης-Το φιλί δεν είναι κρίμα



Θα 'ρθω, Μια Γλυκιά Βραδιά - Αθανασίου Αθανάσιος



Over the Garden Wall – The Carter Family



Chewing Gum – The Carter Family

hollow-fluted old one - why?

Bagla Reverb

Same sun – different splinters- shattering shadow’s realm with photon-haze raking at the day’s rippled perimeter.  Footsteps echo the tinkling of a tiny lute.  Concealed now, slipped under the overcoat and swallowed in its fold, the song-bird nestling within.  Looking forward in sunny yellowed time we find our footsteps wandering along alleys and wandering byways – bustling quays by the sea.  Winding lanes with cellars and taverns.  A whirling zeibekiko emerges like a Dervish through the echoing teke door and we find in our footsteps we’ve been here before.  These echoing zithers, tinkling finger symbolic zelia and tapping darabukas- yawling karamusas and mellifluous clarinos-  and the guitar, bouzouki and baglamas of the Piraeus-style zeibekiko 9/8 sound- rebetiko’s early chant punctuated and decorated by the ethereal and shimmering bagla – surely one of the most mystical and enchanted instruments ever to be given to man by the Gods…  

Rebertiko Movie:

More on Rebetiko from ‘The Caterpillar’:

http://yecaterpillar.blogspot.co.uk/2010/10/blog-post.html

Baglamas - μπαγλαμάς

Dazzling in mottled sunlight, shadowed by moonclouds, moving through misty dockside streets – something under his coat- a miniature lute.  Overcoat-cautious he glances round, pencil-moustache and trilby hat.  Sunshine’s soon shaded as he takes an alley and then another.  Starlight sparkles fresh as he winds through the maze.  Then a door swings open and he steps into the teke…..  Now the Baglamas can chirp like a grasshopper…  

ΟΙ ΜΠΑΓΛΑΜΑΔΕΣ, ΣΤΡ. ΠΑΓΙΟΥΜΤΖΗΣ, ΣΤ. ΚΗΡΟΜΥΤΗΣ 1946

 

At the Teke – A Scene from the movie ‘Rebetiko’…

http://www.nine-eight.com/article3.html

Baglamas:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQPt1cziPxM&list=PLkMZb0s_TYEarjnbS1SAN4FkS2ufdDt9u&index=1

μπαγλαμάς

 

Autochthonous Caterpillar

Αυτόχθωνός  - Springing up out of the Earth    -    grasshopper songs – indigenous,  preagricultural,   preconscious – sparkling,  rippling,   self-radiant,     autochthonous,  vivid and iridescent.  

Τσάμικο σόλο βέρσο Σωτήρης Σγούρος    

(Tsamiko  - Sotiris Sgouros)   

Κερατζίδικος - Σωτήρης Σγούρος (Keratzidikos – Sgouros; Gardiki)

Σκάρος - Σωτήρης Σγούρος (Skaros -  Sotiris Sgouros; Gardiki)

Tain’t Nobody’s Business If I Do – Bessie Smith

Jah Jah Bless the Dreadlocks – The Mighty Diamonds

…too subtle for words, something hovered over the vicarage lawn…        the smell of rain in dust brought the day to a standstill.  An elm creaked.  A hoverfly hung suspended as hours and minutes melted.  The preternatural shimmering of a dragonfly’s wing wrung wonderful rivulets of iridescent glow in glas golowji.  In an insect’s eye a thousand mirage-images hit the tiny brain simultaneous.  Under the grass-blades, the real action is happening.  Lambent foliage rumbles as sky-lark darkened spring night quakes awake at night be the old wood fire.  Strains of a grasshopper klarino song billow the echo of a beetle’s glistening carapace shell, krogonek surkot, as he dips through his dog-trot door into the eye  of summer.   Sheep stream across the mountain, Tsamiko soars, reflecting mountain’s soul.  Phonograph spins shimmering awareness, a stream of song, a conscious swirl of reed-throated upland warbling.  The golden thread of Melodia’s musing.  Τσάμικο σόλο βέρσο Σωτήρης Σγούρος        Sotiris Sgouros takes a solo in the Tsamiko. Screes of the rock-wall kingdom echo to the sound, happy the nomads who jam in the tent. 

Whippoorwill Wirlpool

Squalling in out of the West, it’s the paper that tears itself…. The Caterpillar Dub, Issue 45… available from all good outlets of the Alaja Vijnana, hanging out in space, radiantly nowhere…..  

                                     

A poster from The Caterpillar Dub:

                                      

http://www.youtube.com/user/floydyopz/       

http://www.poemhunter.com/the-caterpillar/poems/     

http://thctrpllr.blogspot.co.uk/ 

http://www.radiofreepenzance.blogspot.co.uk/

Czym jest Truml? 

Ye Caterpillar

Truml.com

Ceremonies of the glittering jewelled carapace…….

Owl-Pellets of the Imagination

Something’s happening in there, I  know it.      I  just glimpsed a hand – well, I say hand, perhaps I should say an appendage.  Yes, something definitely slunk, sort of withdrew, faded into the penumbra inside that gaunt and granite edifice that faced me across the time-bemoldered alleyway of ongoing experience. 

The day could not have been more leaden and grey, a sobering blustering blast blew chill from Atlantic’s swirling swell, flecked with crawking gulls and slopping jellyfish blooms.  A squall stole in, scattering showers, gusts and blasts across the gables, tiles and slates of the village-towne.  I’d noticed signs of activity in the old warehouse recently, coeval with an increase in footsteps late at night, in owl-hours and beyond.  Sesquipedalian scuttlings astir in archaic rhyme-rich dripping atmospheric glassy-eyed glaucous backstreets.  I seen lights on in there at night and I heard hammering and a-yammering coming out of there and I know there’s something going on in there. 

A slate-grey gloom slayed hopes of drowzy summer’s slumberous afternoons, chilled and thawed and frozen out as brittle bits and fractured fragments of brown-baked bracken blew down like brittle biscuits.  Maybe it’s the Glagolitic Mass, echoing and emanating down tunnels of steel, bronze and bulkheads of obsidian basalt columnular conglomeration in catalytic conversation.  That’s probably what did it, what set my mind to thinking and to realizing.

Blending into that tea-like darkness, that was a being alright, definitely a being of some sort.  Swirls of fog notwithstanding, some denizen flittered and flitted in, in stealthy flight departing.  Thirsting for experience’s flow, I followed and bat-like flitted silently inside. 

An unearthly glow pulsed colourless drenching the ancient chamber in nacreous effulvous effulgence oscillating with slices of photoperiodic obscurity and a deep deep blackness.  A calm warmth seemed seeping forth, encouraging my peregrination.  A fresh impression like a French Impressionist painting, blurry and soft;  muted, speckled;  plates, greenish-white glow, spinning fingers, antennae, shifting plates of the carapace, a gliding motion of an archaic garment of clothing, a vast greatcoat surcoat, swaddling the figure of the being, the entity, the Caterpillar! 

And now, as I look back, the encounter – if such it was – is indeed a little vague and sepia-faded at the edges,  this being the inevitable concomitant of such episodes as these, featuring as they do, the meeting of mundane with supra-mundane Mind…  I have a series of recollections, rather fragmentary, disjointed and indistinct.  I have much more positively in my possession though the echo of the feeling, and this is the subtle gossamer whisp that is so discolos hard to convey through words.  A sensation of being refined and rarified, as when metal is purified in great fire.  This suttleification was bathed in a warm vibrant peace – whilst all this was going on, knowledge and informations were being poured into me from a source universally present.  The presence of the central figure was one of great warmth and wisdom, a sunny benignity coupled with the dizzying mysterious drift of space itself.  In fine, something that went beyond my limited grasp, yet left me uplifted, inspired with a hint of something vast and brilliant.

When I had fully returned to my normal condition, I was in possession of a casket of scrolls, tablets, cuniform phonograph rolls, wire-recordings, sketch-books, scribbled formulae and classical poetry, incantations, evocations and revalations.  Rich food for the soul, for psyche’s flight, butterfly-like into the new bright night of day. 

What follows in ‘The Caterpillar’ – A Visionary Ghetto Tabloid - & its remixed Dub Version is culled from the fertile trove of lore and learning bequeathed to me on the occasion of my most recent visitation of my mysterious carapaced friend, to whom ye humble blogspot and its accompanying journals are most respectfully dedicated.

A poster from The Caterpillar:

http://www.youtube.com/user/floydyopz/      
 

http://www.poemhunter.com/the-caterpillar/poems/     

http://thctrpllr.blogspot.co.uk/ 

Truml:

Ye Caterpillar

Truml.com