Flow Of Clear Awareness

I love to see the lights come on warm and golden in the evening’s misty damp grey.  These beacons of homely glow and cheer lure the weary home, like the disembodied souls of the universe flying home to roost.  This priceless golow glister that shines from a sea of earthly windows on the houses up on the hill, it speaks of the sanctity of home, of the beauty of warmth and shelter and also of the hint of adventure as your life crosses that of another. 

Lovers play in some of these lighted looming rooms whilst in others, solitary sit the solo, lost in thought and musing the universe through an eye to the sky.  Spangled light orange as barley and glowing from within, seeping and dripping from gambrelled windows and gable-pitched rooves.  Each window a splodge of golden orange paint in my oil-painting, my structure of dark blue brickwork against the city sky when I was youth incarnate. 

Casting away sorrows, the rebetis takes up an ancient lute and breaks into song.  Now let the light shine. 

P.S.  You might have noticed that The Caterpillar frequently comes out late these days.  For that, we can only blame the influence of the white rabbit.

Spirits That Rise With The Sun In Their Eyes

From out of the mouth of the gyni came forth fables and parabels - this was good - as long as the gyni never offends the sultan he is free to babble - but if the sultan gets too pissed off the gyni will have to hide in a jar until he passes or turn him into a camel...

he doesn't mind doing this.

Rising Spirits

Walking through golden mist knee-deep and swirling thick and glutinous like luminous marmalade, through budding meadows brim with the efflorescence of ages and the mysterious hoof-prints of the miniature deer that run by night.  Over the bridge into yet another realm, this one congealed and composed of conglomerations of sensory experience, like the five skandhas or aggregates of personality as taught at Nalanda in times antique and gone to the Indian sun of past millennia.  Glittering sea-glass and muted orange-barley glow in the harvest-fields, following, following, following;  ever following the super-luminous trail of The Caterpillar as he loops across the land;  now here, now there.  Blessing the Earth, suffusing it with culture and knowledge, parchments scattered like leaves in his tracks, clattering clogs on many a foot going round many a block and skittering down alleys and country cart-tracks and byways where sun shines dappled through leaves that tremble when the breeze comes around stirring and soughing high and lonesome in late afternoon.  Reaching a wondrous isle suspended just above midstream in the dragon-fly river, it glistens in water surrounded and fish spit and gurgle there.  What nature whispers in the waters and the leaves of the trees can not be written in the tongues of man.  The nature-feeling that we write of is just an echo of the real nature-feeling.  Only a lungful of air can say it.  Only an uphill puff can inflate it.  Only the rustle of wind in the corn, the long meadow grass and wheat, only the rustle of cereal crops under dark thunderous blue and purple skies in the summer’s blasting heat can say it.  Only the splash of the surf can say it.  Mordros mutter tramor and back, wondrys, marthys and Glagolitic.  Subsisting on glossolalia is no substitute for nature’s silent roaring laugh.  If the world is old and ill then the spirits of the Earth will rise. 

The Time Of Claws

Conceptuality coming to get ya in its claws - Exoskeletal pincers pinch at calceous crunchy krogens and split them into elemental flakes - The Time of Illusions is running out -

The Claws Of Time

Osseous - brittle - carapacious - exoskeletal - keratinous - telechronological - clattering and clacking or mineralized husks - chattering teeth in secular skull with sunken eyes and the sands of time trickling - running through the jaws of fossilized throwbacks - 

An Gath Vlewek Dasson 119 Kommolek Tewlwolow Ha Bengalji Brae

Oh Globe - oh world - what are you up to now~  What in the world are you doing you jesting scoundrel sayeth the clown upon the throne of hay - thus it spun and thus forth it crisseth-crosseth the terrestrial territory - An tir - an mor ha ebbren yw -  Tramor gwerinieth ha yn Kernow gwerinieth Lemmyn - Kai styn Elada dimokratia kai manges xorepsetai zeibekiko kai fumaro xasissi pola - and so it was and so it was and spinneth the orb towards midnight -

Hey time - hey dust - hey consciousness - trickling mercury shimmers and glistens in the sun - let the people shine - let the light blaze - let the golden mirror shimmer and burn bright the light - the light -

Cool Orb Of Lustre Cast

Visions from the Ghetto - Mystical Raptures from the Council Estate -  Inspirations encountered in the Street - Just everyday stuff that-s going down right now - as we speak - as we stream forward through time and all that interstellar jazz of exploding universes and proton-storms - The corona of the sun was bottled but when was the last time you felt the bumps on the bottle of fizz huh~ Comic-book past and cartoon heroes - laughs echoing away down the halls of eternity - Rainbow bubbles rising and the pulse of the great life-force of the universe surging through your every cell and nerve - space-dust fizzing away merrily on the teenage tongue - Sunny cycles of time in the afternoon golden glow of universal joy - every girl and every boy - wake up!  The Dream-s End Is Beginning -

What end~ What dream so real - just so real - so very very real - down by the lemonade stand the sun shines on the street-musicians - finger-cymbals - tambourines and a gypsy sings - so real it was - Cool blue orb arc the zenith -  the sparkle of the that seen dancing on the moon-water at night -