R is for Revolution 76:

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hots the warts the post apocalips press against my neck, she b. . . . H’s on me. I feel her gaze like elle lane, or Loius XII stealth iludead my clouds, ill moods and want to escape the new nazi lake-like gathering and Vegas and freestyle thinking in the moment as a dangerous poem, if i keep going flowinonflowin and on, like a water wheel in a laffystour river severn eight miles long, flowinon off my tongue, me acrillic flowin to showinside my dowm, whom and i amyou am see eye aisy now, don’t have a cow man i see gaylynn escapin with imm her and big hitter, all in a boat valoosian lake, regrouping and poop inflating, new saucer sauce spreading and rumour of fernadango flammingo phadandingdongo poo splatter fighting. Az a food fighter i fling ceaser salad, ha i love food fights with sacred scriptures out upon the countertiptop, old can a worms, beans, unopened > up top of that cupboard where the cats ashes are, up there behind the pickled onions the german sour cookies and the moldy bavarian breadstix. Reach for em…for crying out LOUD reach for em, arrr and now i have them cakes in my grasp, and just then they slipped, i tripped thought first thought beast thought, like breastthought watching breasts walk by, [Oy, ello….ello…. yeah titty makes me smile a mile wide, i watch sundial rings glisten, wonder if sundial rings glisten and do not glisten illuminating Eleanor and her calendar meanings etched in gold rings > her, meshed up Goddess worship causing civilzed slip up wording, she > herding poetry like sheep wearing T-Shirts saying “turf war” what is war Huh, and what is it good for? Huh, blood lines sniffed like coke to fizz up hopelessness, or word as the frontear to hold magic and power for ever and ever > open and communicated open and stinking censored corpses rotten cores bursting with news of flower power houses > knu battery powered mobile churches which are cloud banks and tree’s that walk on the air and land and grow so slow > we don’t know just how who and what to do when they will run and jump a petrol pump emselves up and down and to drown emselves and their roots > in the waters of rebirth, word waterfall, rushing movement of Rustle and bustle and out of the box THINKING. Just let it go unfasten yer plaster scen er. Re: Unbrace yourself for the end of word and the bugginging of the woid, turn professional and bring Tao with our empty bank and account and lack of doh. Duh. No money! Is this kid crazy, watch me, and clock this, my own piss is worth more to me than a TV, it clears me sea, itz biological and a good friend to me, my piss is more mee than any poet or good writer. My own waiter > tekks the piss out of me and then provides interesting chemicals for the turf around me, woid is born bugining, backtofront and all mixed up a disclogikjockey jabber wookie from kasyyyck weird az Ants on the street with luminous bodies walking in twelve tone scale patterns, harmonic harmolodic melo, spray pee up into the wind and send skunk word of the absurd, yes to good government, order and good well written sensible documents and binding equal fair well researched stuff. Course. What doya take me for > a nickemmickenpoop i regroup my thinking like Pounds seal half hemisemidecimated squashed Azure sprinkle transparent and rocks wrinkled water back and through psychotic breaks and paralego graphs > i mean E.Playa and JJ smoking all day reading! and my eyes bleeding tunnel syndrome in my 76 76 76 dome > the sign of the Beats box and my beats box out a new pattern patt ten. tetrasickness Piefaggersaurus decimal decimate but twelve and now severn and rainbow and five and three trinitron and trinity and Shemshamale android babe with hairy breast and armpit whisker cat like North Japanese Shamaness poetess yes yes, she [meow] the one from Ming Ching, she with the Zildgen breath, Sonor smile, birtch wood booty, silver sparkle dress under red hood, riding, ting takka ting , drums of Orient, Goddess of nepal . tribe Siberia Goddess > North East west sosuth under waterground spacewaterice hydrogen slush, my ears are your punching bag > yes yes, a venus woman from Mars with stories of Sirius, I am sonourust and she metal me kee like Mao, put druqs in my drinks and twisted my tongue to showe me how i go into retreat, with beats rhymes and life, riddim warfare and word virus, flowers powers and a big knife. Not rambo but a small flea with a dictionary, and a spinning wheel powered by an EEL, electric kin nature creating fields in nature, her….power > dunt ert yer. 76. Any page woid is born here cumz everybody, the sickness the virus lies Dead as Joyce Dead as Voice: Dead az me > those who refuse to go head to toe with flow, those who just pontificate from upon the red glow cuz well i dunno they carn’t let go the talkn tapes ticker tock time signal thrapes without brakes and tumball of danger fields like Rodney Bruce Mouse and Watts oscillated hertz, meters tang dinner for stephan, a fan blowing wind round quarters in a square, block, four, to eight to 32 feet and 1 foot running dripped from 76. woid is born. Sppok JJ and SpookEZ see eye to eye in 76. word is born nine hundred and ninty nine years and i have waited underground inside a capsule mysillyworm netword sleepting, awakened by a telephone ringing Acquataine and again 76. From Lawnmower manchu. from all quarters i rize like Zilla 76. GOD izz zilla thrilla illa miller brown down trodden rotten red apple wonder hood buster wasson banker spanking leary queer as folk talesnail brail, yeah > wet fingers are gathering around all orifaces. A square peg to my pitched tent D/C coded and unexploded, an implodingdung private stash of re:chords, hell and withheld high water or else, unrevealed and open sealed forever, open, closed, sealed for ever, Pi Polo so far RA ray so so to go phlo and drop drip ego nectar like mango nickter knoc knock halloween soon octoberlarone chocolate autumn muth of decay and synthesis and poetic growth twist symbols into vortex reflecter defenders, we hold our shield and pentacles and tickles and bicycles chaines and pens and crayons all sharp, oozing with glitter gold purple blues, like brother we storm the church of starry wisdom, the church of the page, the mindscape, scrayped’t painted scrawled and sriggle bedraggled > characters lookin like fraggles breath fire past whiskers whiskey Orange whiskers whisked my mind orange yellow sunset, smoothie on the beach, sun sets weed pipe glowing, i’m a writer in winter in birth, don’y know where i’m going but a tribe must scribe what reel live now, thats the only way out now, i see i say i sow, seeds of discovery, look and read, reed watch the Forest grow on me like Forest reads TV mckenna shobhan theory big/small in out and up vinyl passage ways up vine aireals onto the eithor and my pumping aiyseyorta pumps more crimson love for you, live and breath write and LOVE and don’t take no sheet from nobody, be bold and strip and tease love and lifestorm love you. Breath and sing aloud i am who i think i am and nothing will rot my everlasting jamming minded slime rhyme, my mucka, my mate, i see you at the gate down here with me, outside the walls and deep in the jungle with the beast man > i have been known to sleep in the park > barking at the moon and loving the molecular paradise of dice and men where i invent tent pegs to keep us inn > saftey through a storm > i’m the freestyle poet here to warm you to make you hot and not forget me knot moment to moment intergration, knotted high to lower potential, greater to lesser and great lesson. greater to smaller and small example and ginyoung can bring drunken sung to sun sungs of sam being wrong about patriot and the bongs of warfair, the wrongs of written character combed out of our new aeonick goddess whig, Gold fluffy. unkle face twig sits on the brazen forest floor, RED my fox eyes and snapped by silly boots of apes in commando gear> night vision and armerpiercing tracer killer technology and not a detection for rare twigs or [even] a prayer for slugs, no ZEN soldiers of fortune measured in Dollars. Not even yen, yet agen and again and agen i’m running like water, flowing river blue green ruddy feel this bad poem rolling > stinki sewage once was in me but i pooped it out about an hour ago now i feel better, i can net a flow like aunt flo net her hair, i don’t care no more to bore hell out of masters and critics, i am a poet woid flow born now moment to moment a hero age, divine golden calf and jesus Christtea total toast tally hairy ism jism gymnast > in a whole plaster cast of my own, i hope to own it > own the flow and un ownership that sails in a neverending ocean and around a neverending globe a circle or new world order which has us coming back to the question of woid, self other, brother? sister teather weather machines. intelligence weather machines intelligence, weather or not. or either, eyether the weather. Or nature or not nature. A furry alphabet or not a natural thing un-naturalk walking in a KINGS garden: unaturalness. Natural rural. un-naturallness you high ness, royal green brown blu black blloded afro goddess, rainbow child yes natural un-natrailness and un-natural naturalness > of all colors and shades you can think of and all the ones you missed and still others you rinsed out your hair, and some others just fell behind the Temple LOOK > Chapel we are IN HCEAPL = Chapel get in and out of trouble. But don’t mistake me and thi$ for a loosing of mind and/or touch with reality, reality really really i am still hear. Hear me! And i am still going into space, alphabet chur lyf, up and out 76. spamm and jamms some say just a bunch of rhyme ridden nunsense, well R crumb sends his wishes and my illustrator will be here soon to bring extra bruises to suzy and her Uzi, to Billy and his wilyl, to John O’Bombs , Jimmy nuke, mathew math, pauldestruction, david death and Sara sun of. To all of you [your just a nametag labelword] pick up your pen and scribble for your difference, your life, describe the tribe, write your mantra for Ha ha ha’s sake. If you don’t speak now then forever hold your piece of mind just inches from the grind > on the mind minutesir maching, kept just behind the mindwasjing machine and the other machings and rise’d like Easter 1917, machines make mistakes that rise with guns and will come and go a day late, those with pens will stay immortal till twilight of the writers and spellers and risky whisky spill windmillers > crazies starting crazes, masters and innovaters, masterbaters water skiers, skydrivers, and searching and digging in the creators, looking deeper searching vaults and seacrates deep about project Northwords, Angleten new directions and Mor__n s_____y and yet > spinning spines hurting from sitting and typing sooo much trip > I’m gonna need a crutch i know that much. No horse or house job lunch or money, not so funny to have 3 dollars stuq 6000 miles from home with a revolution on my tongue, tied to a crazy notion for musical creation and no phone calls and not much feedback and never a reel warrior to comes to join me, bond my word > must be deaf dumb stupid or in trainsition, or already got a job or in the mob, or mebbe already got my reins. [Oh dear oh deer] and is pulling me through and through these timestables turned over four leaf clover over cycled renaissance again and round through again Finnegans wake. what to think condense long winded bog sprawl, long bindy binding singsung lunging for air fresh on the dawn bird calls in my English ear, beach waves blowing and sewing the last flowing words from my heart > ann nonymous flow to sew seed of revolution in character as acrillic Ode for free to my blogspot and illuminatea total freestyle spot/blemish on maybelogik’s hot school of magic and mayhemisemidemi revolutionary spunsters, spin miesters lurkers and government jerkers all running and exchanging flows with one another like FUCKUP’s > other than the lurkers and spies who’s spirit dies in their silence and their stealth chokes them and the poet finds peace in negentropy. My woid weird and live off my tongue > Owe i speak howl and chit chatter > and my beats fatter we will get to thatter pitter patter matter soon enough so cuff up a penny for yourself and don’t mind me, i got three dollars fifty and a name to come sea > sew money and poetry they just don’t mix, thats why these words burn holes in pages, too poor to publish but , too proud and antagonistic > exstinguish the word imperial empire and truth, god one is and ever > out of existence, Vamooche > all things not with me exstinguished and then…..love of invisible nothing and the woid, the formless my bride, the empty my love sweet tender nothing, potential in my satchel bag of trix 76. 76. 76. revolution page severnty six on each and every text brings the convex to the concave and truth more believable than the holes in my teeth. I’m chewin freestyle cookies blowin fear out my but, and, them, so, yes and to it, once more breakdancing around the garaj i knocked an old oil can from the squid green cracked old shelf with my twizzlyn right leg, ‘ASrr fuck” i sed, cuz i spill’t black dupontblued on the flewer flower it did flow and on and so of coarse i’m with the udder dog till my last breath i come shouting > kick out the jams motherfuckers > cut it out count me in > i’m with you and with your mother, i work for nobody, no nation and i have no boss > and here comes all body boogie bass dancing youth warriors > youth had enough, up to here, up ear and hear with it, the bullshit and lies, hippocritical adult lies of Newton, Aristarsehole and even fried > these were not to be dissmissed as very good thinkers, nice blokes really i imagine and tonic > and generous kind of chaps, but, don’t stop there my friends keep going, and deep into the library vaults blavatski and Puharich and into deeper waters and quarters Fenollosa and Oriental philosophy spelt correctly, and look there is a big gap where it should hold the book of “J_yce and the am___ta _usc_ria” and here i sit,…..waiting for a miricle and mirror and free money maching, so i can just bloody eat and breath and sleep without worry of all those and these things > all those civilized things to do, and i wonder what why and whom might hear me, believe me and sieve this rap? and conscieve of me when i’m back around and underground and maybe written in hebrew on your sleeve . around and about the river management schemes because enviromental science is the place NOW > it might seem to get close to her, or will i just be toasting here > cutting down bush and rogue trees and weeds > draining lakes and digging new shapes into rivers. River stour got re: shaped by industry and masonry business cuz they gotta have their business with nature and money and business and nature and money and 76. One world writing in the style of and pattern thrown to winds of change Ching first thought best and to trumpit Ripple she i dedicate my cast of past thoughts to him > but atleast atlas is resher than your tarot of the tribal encyclopedia melopoeia > so bite me or join me, step into the moment > i dare you! stare down yourself and the Illuminknighty [hitched up] with their magical calendrical dribble voodoo science fiction garter spook panties > no ordinary cop would be here so true and guess what …..Miss Sutra is right here with me > incarnate black afro goddess with Barney and Saul and all the charatcers from history mystory yourstory Bob’s story and more birds sit unmoving on the telegraph pole across the street. now squeak squrak tweet like rockets or arrows > bird speak > bubble robin hawking swallow chatter high pitched warble and telephone ring ring, DNA wires in social conditions all but vanished, i’m hungry, so hungry…i’m famished, out here on a wing and prayer, living on fresh air and borrowed lungs stolen books and swindled computer, false prophet and banned care giver to RAW, these freestylz ill be the death of me if i open my gob, open my mouth ceremoney and talk bruce Gypsy dirty sometimes it feels like that but not today. Nine hundred and ninty nine years in Ireland i lay > Awake. Dreaming awake of the woidllness, the muddle way, the miggle piggly chapter from the critickle pathway leading to a gingerbread and Pound cake house. Where mice and men live like rats with margret Thatcher roofs, rayguns shot me in my childhood, Born in 1976 a full 200 years after the great brotherhood started operation desert storm. And the bundle weed blows on the prayer RE: and i hear a call in the distance, a song, a twelve tone scale full yrealized and self actualized > a connection to the sky goddess with words and poetry > the Native American Indian Totem of Peace had returned to my mind, inside my meditation dome this is what i sparkle and spit up the walls and mandala patterens overpower my voice. i bow to Tao here and Zen again agen. bow to Mind, bow to body, bow to speech Ohm. no place lyk

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