Showing posts with label floydyopz. Show all posts

Friday, May 23, 2014

Friday, May 31, 2013

…As if for the hundredth time it seemed, my ears did glean the clattering feet of the carapaced companion of my nocturnal fog-bound wandering wayfaring ways. By rotting wharves of eldritch and ancient buckling beams the galleons moored, awash to the gunwales with spices and pots of squid-ink, crabster-lobster hybrid thynges in baskets and barrels of salted starfish for ‘Pymbis Pie’. Here strolled those scuttering pendulous feet and here followed I, aghast and agog with amazement – to be again on the trail of the Carapace – like a beetle blue he scuttled across the tremulous flower-head that is New Lynsmouth. His tour of the lurching and festering wharfs was taken at a leisurely pace – he consulted a quadrant that he produced from under his maroon quilted coat – he took bearings on the sun and the land and the celestial objects, bodies and Worldes. Picturing hieroglyphics in his mind’s splendid inner eye, he described arcs and great ballistic perambulations with the point of one of his many prehensile feelers. Prodding forth an exoskeletal hand, or sort of an appendage of sorts, he traced the trajectory of the great heavenly globulations in their interstellar gyrations and oscillations. Like a dirigible sailing through a great antediluvian cactus-forest he sailed and sallied forth, sails full of steam and boilers straining at their halyards. Mesmerically galvanized by the sheer wattage of his radiant moonglow soul, I yielded as I always did, to the subtle influence of his presence, which was like the gradual incursion of a yak-herd upon a grassy upland pasturage. Αυτόχθωνός – Autochthonous things did stir and wind beneath the rich native soil. Vapors and spirits did whirl as the multiple feet of the carapaced thing crept along. His glow radiant-warm and self-contained, his culture emanating in waves like a wisdom-radio device. This was the Caterpillar as I had come, fleetingly and in a will-o-the-whispish way, to know him. As on other occasions, I was not to be disappointed, as he whirled round and set those unfathomable and barely meetable eyes of his on me. I felt the ground seem to give way, as my mind was swept up in the powerful luminous waves of his vast and buzzing consciousness again – and again that dread leaden drowse that I fought in vain to fight ere wakefulness took winged flight and I felt my waking-mind flee, flying free to realms buoyant and unknown and most relishable and wonderful – and I was glad. And I flew I knew not where. The smell of rain on the dust filled the hot spring air, the drowzy air of afternoon. Like cattle lost in the pillars of an ancient temple I wandered in my mind, through hills of purple heather and upland hinterland dodder and furze, broom and burs. Through ivy-clad ancient dripping woods I wandered whithershins with my back to the sun and my face to the moon, stars in my eyes and the dust of a million aeons smote my skittering feet. The cultural-transmission began and the carapace clicked and clattered in glee as the stream of mind-stuff was beamed into midstream and minds streamed as one. Smiling on his acolyte, I felt that he was pleased so far with my efforts to pass on his message of lepidopteral fluttering moth-bliss, a thousand swarms of suchlike things as this. Rivulets flew and flowed through and into a luminous glowing golowji, a towering beacon of nautical, dry, aquatic and spiritual knowledge, a flow of musical elements, an image-stream, an ideation alight and lit from within by lambent and translucent quivering foxglove dewdrops. Rolls, scrolls, phonographic moles, dewlaps, specimens of various orders, cordata, taxonomological oddities, quirks, freaks, frequent flumes, quercus robur, plumes, enflorescenses, tribal-chants, masks, amusing anecdotes, stoat-skin waistcoats, outbursts of furious imagination and amplitudes of utter gargling bliss – nay, waves of the stuff, sheer waves of the stuff. --- Later, of course, events were less clear in my mind, but the essential event had eventually unfolded and with it a new chapter of carapaced culture unrolled upon a million crystal compound eyes.

Magnetic Rag - Scott Joplin

Riding on a High & Windy Day – The Paragons

Let’s Get Together - H.P.Lovecraft

I Wasn’t Born To Follow – The Byrds

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

Hope you enjoyed The Caterpillar Dub, A Visionary Ghetto Tabloid… thanks for reading and see you next month!

Friday, February 22, 2013

Omida Ecou

An old legend tells of a dark lady who stood on a mountain-top and sang the World into being. At the foot of the mountain raged the dragons of confusion. Their breath was like a many-coloured river that wove and lapped and twined around the mountain, as rainbow-ribbons around the maypole. The dragon’s colourful breath brought consternation to the World, ensnaring and entangling those who espied its chimeric vapours as ephemeral clouds of the morning. These bewitching strands and skeins of accordion, fiddle and decorative filigreed arabesque masqueraded before the sky in the morning of the day, sinuously snaking and swirling around as zephyrs that do to dance upon the air. But from above, from the mountain’s lofty and far-sighted peak stood a dark woman who was the voice of song. She it was who sang the World and she it was whose incanting primordial voice held the loops of scattered colour, sound and zephyr, shaping them to fit her song, her chanting monotone that now swoops, abandoning form and formality, now chants in dark oneness. This was the voice from the Heart, from out of the trees, in early morning, driving away the mists of confusion, in the morning of the day, the day of the World, fresh, vibrant, viridian, dark, of power primal and autochthonous. The voice from the mountain levels out all illusion. Cate mute cate slute.

Doina din Dolj – Maria Tanase

Check this one out: “Cate Mute Cate Slute” – Maria Tanase:

http://www.virtualromania.org/music/maria/songs/04.%20Cate%20Mute,%20Cate%20Slute.mp3

Bartok Romanian Dances, arranged for string orchestra:

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

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

http://thctrpllr.blogspot.co.uk/

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Muzica Populara Romaneasca

Like a fabulous mechanical yurt-on-a-cart pulled by a hundred thousand gold-tipped elephants pullulating across the Carpathians it’s….. Like a glittering, audacious, crackling speckled black crow of many colours, it’s…… Reminiscent of many and many a wonderful and splendid thynge, melting ice gleaming in the sun, golden straws of autumn stooks, thatch, pitchforks hitched to a bullock-cart, the Heart’s-blast of the Ages, the swooning, swooping, ululating, wobbling, tocking, galloping, clattering, syncopated, shuffling, ecstatic, Golden, dusky and cool sounds; the sounds of the people of Romania… Muzica Polulara Romaneasca

Complete with lyrics, here is a generous collection of the songs of Maria Tanase, courtesy of Virtual Romania. These mp3’s are well-worth checking out.:

http://virtualromania.org/music/maria/

Maria Tanase - Tulnicul

Maria Tanase - Doina din Dolj

Maria Tanase – Agurida

Check this one out: follow link for “Cate Mute Cate Slute” – Maria Tanase:

http://www.virtualromania.org/music/maria/songs/04.%20Cate%20Mute,%20Cate%20Slute.mp3

Maria Tanase - Pe deal pe la Cornatel

MARIAN SERBAN-FERARU - Bucharest Sleigh

Marian Serban - "Il Re del Cymbalom"

Hora La Lucemi - Romanian Folk Music

Hora Boreasca

Sounds From A Bygone Age Vol. 1 – 5 (Advert):

Romica Puceanu - Deschide, gropare, mormantul!

Romica Puceanu - Toata lume-ar vrea sa mor

Ileana Sărăroiu - Dar-ar naiba-n tine, dragoste (1977)

MARIA LATARETU - ,,Va las cantecele mele''

Ion Petre Stoican - Hora Lui Mihalea

Ion Petre Stoican - Hora lui Sile

Baladă haiducească - Ballad of outlawry

Gabi Lunca - Rapirea din Serai

To magnify pages of ‘The Caterpillar”, simply click on the image and open in a new tab, then you have the option to zoom in and see the detail……. (Don’t forget to check the Archives, at the top of the blog, to see previous issues of The Caterpillar!)

A large collection of music from many times and places:

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

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

http://thctrpllr.blogspot.co.uk/

Truml: Check out Truml - why not join up (free) and share your art with others in Poland and around the World?

Ye Caterpillar

Truml.com

…and the echo of the song came back from the mountain…

Sunday, September 30, 2012

JaCkDaW

A stupendous view of the bay is commanded from the bay window transoms, from Loe Bar, across by Halzephron and on down to Mullion and The Lizard. Someone seems to swoon forward in gentle reverie, images rippling outward from expressive, inventive mind. Cluck, jackdaw's feather flutters to ground shimmering blue and dark shine.

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

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

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

Ye Caterpillar

DUB

Monday, September 24, 2012

Gwynngala Gate

Possible Side Effects: Some people experience side effects when reading this publication. If this happens to you, please see your vendor of Dublications or contact Chilled Distribution directly. Symptoms can include: Glossolalia, Hyperverbalism, mild or acute Logomania, Adjectivus Hyperbolus, Dry Mouth, Excitability, Vertigo, Stag, Dizziness, Torpor & Turpitude.

Unused copies of this publication should be disposed of safely. They should be returned to the starting point; the original one; the one mind; the space of previous things; the point of origin beyond; the luminous fog of aether. &c..

Unread material shall be stashed in the phone-box on the corner, or secreted within the old deserted house down the back-street or buried at the cross-roads at midnight. * * * *

Street-cars, side-cars, allotments and rugby-pitches- a rainy Saturday afternoon, the radio blaring. Fragments of lichen and Spanish Moss cling to the trees - an old movie. Sunlight on the pavement on the hill, quiet. Grass sprouting in the gutter. Snatches of brass band music being blown about by the wind; tattered posters flapping on old brick walls, chimes of an ice-cream van. Dry warm wind blows the dust in rivulets along the brown and fading street, bleached by summer’s old-time sun. A thousand summer suns that shone and in shining shone on as one. Side streets, rugby-cars and rainy allotment pitches on a radio afternoon of blaring Saturday. Feet clacking down dry dusty streets, past shacks of clucking clarion cockerels, heralds, horns blaring. Swarming downtowns turned to brick, nostalgic reverie reveals no intrinsically solid stalactites.

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

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

Ye Caterpillar

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Gasienica Bibula

All the Words ever, all the World’s thoughts, all the lights dancing, synapses twinkling and fizzing; all the People, all the Dreams and all the atoms, chunks and molecules of all the worlds – all these, plus everything else – that’s you, that is. And that is us. Being everything, I laugh at being me. Being me, I laugh at being everything.

All the words I don’t understand are like the People I don’t know. All the languages of the world that I don’t know are like places I haven’t visited – which is most of the World; which is most of Human Speech; which is most of Human ideation and experience. From this miniature island in space, I wave at you as you pass by. Through the haze of Babel, I see the essence of you as being one with the essence of me. That’s my belief, anyway.

So words can help or hinder – sometimes I wish the whole World would take a one-day vow of silence…. Listen to the birds, the sea, the wind, the heartbeat.

The Caterpillar: Just a load of words on a piece of paper. Produced in Cornwall by The Invertebrate Press. Remixed as a Dub version and issued forth into the World; not so much as a randomly projected message in a bottle, more like a letter that is burnt in the chimney, in the hope of reaching Father Christmas. But if you are walking along the beach one day and you find a bottle washed up on the shore, and you open that bottle and find my message, it’ll just say ‘I hope you can be Happy in this World, and I wish you well.’

Salamanda Palaganda

At time of publication, this video has only had 328 views – incredible!

Syd: The true genius behind Pink Floyd:

http://truml.com/profiles/86707

http://thctrpllr.blogspot.com

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

http://radiofreepenzance.blogspot.com/

motyl

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

KRISTALLO

Cladodes, whorls & Bilbys – By a gulch, by a gully cretaceous critters, epigeal spittlebugs, horsetail-trees and she-oaks sheeeing in the Iron Wood Breeze, transcending Llanugos lurch by lovely lilac light – splattering gibberellic acid on scenes of desert-crow-feather-sheens, blue-black, metallic clacking chords. Aporia Europa oriental and Orphic – ripping dictionaries by flickering rushlight. Lexi-con/artists making light of the britten verb. The word & writ, the anglish langouridge.