Friday, February 22, 2013

ANAHATA VENI VIDI MCCOY TYNER (słuchałoby)


cautiously intermix
the sun's well-bred ham
(drum cannon elevator)

Naïve realism




le ciel est bleu une mâchoire mâcher lentement la terre de la tête.
c'est l'âge des cabanes, l'âge de bains, l'âge de pain grillé.


Graham Chapman 
Mabelle enchevaucheraient 
Charlie Foxtrots deblaterate
eitleach skalerbarheds


Lead me Kryptauntrick Syntax, 
To wherever your decrees have assigned me. 
I follow readily, but if I choose not, 
Wretched though I am, I must follow still. 
Fate guides the willing, but drags 
the unwilling spam, spam, spam.


Turtle milk can not be placed in a basket
Awarding crocodile meat.
Listen to the music in this court:
Thieves steal "Ken Midnight".
The mother and father of the baby are sleep-walking.
I can find Ken the rapist raped?
Fear mixed at night. 
He is going to love Kamrupa now, bad dream.
Kukkuripa charya ministers to all.
It can mean only one universal meter.


There is a woman winemaker who enters two rooms 
She ferments wine with fine barks. 
Hold me still, Shahaja, then ferment the wine 
So that your shoulders are held strongly 
and your body free from age and death. 
When the sign is seen on the tenth door 
The customer who walks in cannot get out. 
A small pot, small is its nozzle. 
Pour very carefully, hold steady, says Virupa.


Carbonizzare!
[click chemistry]


O my mind, even in sleep you remain 
attached to ignorance for inherent weakness, 
How will you fare listening to the Guru's words' 
I wonder how this universe was created from sound. 
You took a wife in Banga. 
Your science flees towards the other shore. 
O strange is the attachment to the earth. 
Even the stranger seems close. 
The world is like bubble in water. 
With Shahaja the spirit becomes empty. 
O my mind, while ambrosia is available 
you drink poison. 
Saraha says an empty cow shed is bitter. 
I alone destroy the world and roam freely
in flip-flops made of spicy Brie.


LITERATURE: massage the petals lightly.
"the dumb rubbing the deaf"


They aren't pickles, Billy Budd!
Quand je taquine la fève de sa chaussette, les chauves-souris blondes succombe vives à mon secteur d'activité, un dicton qui attire les ânes de la mer pour me voir.


Eventually
a WWI Yakṣiṇī
mounts the carousel.
my pen is heavy
like a butter.


What does it matter, so long as we are
debating thought-forms
at a distance?


I'm so very damn glad
I'm not a virgin,
I am Karl Barry Sharpless,
Lingam of the Charyapada.