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Thursday, April 27, 2017

I HAVE DISCOVERED THE TUNNEL PEOPLE; THEY DRINK THE GREEN CHARTREUSE

THE DESCENT IS EASY TO AVERNUS,DESCENT INTO DARK ROSES, LAND OF HEROIC PSYCHOSIS , GLANDS OF METAZOAIC THROMBOSIS; THE TUNNEL PEOPLE, THE LIZARD EYE; THE TUNNEL IS LUSH, SLICK WITH THE GREEN CHARTREUSE…
|||||||  weirdness alert||||||||!
over 18 only please





I’d get farther away from myself 
most days……… if I could!
I judge myself –it’s called the negative
script — and the disdain you can feel for
yourself is quite surprising. Self-hate abounds.
That’s one of the reasons I drink….
*
When I have a brain clawing hangover, as I have now –
LAO TZU says: “START WITH COMPASSION FOR YOURSELF”,
then the world will follow in harmony 
around you.
*
Now…. this morning, things are a bit
different. We had a “chartreuse” party.
Dexter and Nicodemus, chief brewers of the Tunnel
People always did look a little green…
an unhealthy hue, both men have.
*
Then again, they’re afraid of the sky –
so that puts a crimp in their tanning… 
Tanning? Tanning? Don’t tell big fibs –
no one tans up here, cept in mid-May when the
snow’s still two feet thick – hence, no flies!
Bertie, Artie, Matilda & Hanks,
and him who I call “Double Dexter” — he
of the praying hand, 2 praying-blessing
hands, like a praying
mantis…. Except his routine’s not quite so dark…
his female doesn’t eat her male, at least not yet
anyway – not today, but the morning’s young.
Maybe after they pray?..
That foxy little,
full-buttocked blonde vixen with the pixie
cut – she looks like she could eat something
all right.
I’ll give her something to chew on
any time she likes!
(Whoops!  Lost
one thread and pulled another…)
Hank is making a clanging noise
at the end of the bunker…. which is extended
by about ten feet after last weeks chewing and scraping
into the cement construction… he chews something and
licks the wall to set the  re-bar. What it is I have no idea!…
*
So we pay Dexter $20.00 for just two quarts
of “chartreuse”. We call it that only because
it’s green; and it does have a sweet aftertaste of
sugar and decay…
*
“You got tree roots in this stuff?” I ask
the brew masters, who look like the less fortunate
people in a Brother Grimm’s fairy tale.
*
“Aye, and mushrooms of the rarest
variety picked under a waxing crescent moon…”
Double-Dexter and Nicodemus sing together in unison
Did they just sing that? Have they been rehearsing?
*
“Oh, no!” I mumble…”No one would rehearse that song. Dexter,
where does the green come from?” I ask him.
I’m on my second glass.
*
” IT COMES FROM THE SWEAT OFF THE ARSE
OF A TREE TOAD!” he answers loudly.

*
Did I hear that right?  No, couldn’t have!
Did I hallucinate it? I hope so. I’m on my
third glass… and I hope I’m seeing
things… Maybe I’m hearing things, too!
*
IF THIS IS REAL THERE MAY BE
NO ESCAPE!
_________
*
A whole sheet or iridescent white light
sweeps like a sheet across Hank’s
glued and re-barred wall… It’s beautiful, really…
“What the fuck was that?” Foxie asks. (She must
have seen something move.)
*
Good going, Hank. You put
some sparklers in the wall also,… very
clever,” I say. “Better than clever, 
it’s CUNNING architecture….”
I call out to Hank. 
*
Dexter,Bertie and Matilda are lying on the
mud floor…unmoving…. Wait, I just
saw Matilda make a squirming motion,
like a snake… She’s crept up over Dexter 
now and appears to be sucking one of his digits…
or is she trying to digest it?
“Ye gods, no! Is this some ancient
ritual? Is everybody part of it but me?
Oh God, situations like this… ancient
rituals… chanting and making hissing
and sucking sounds — tribes who indulged
in such practices have never been
kind to outsiders…”
“And… … I AM THE
OUTSIDER! …….
In this… situation…”
*
What? What atavistic
primal twisted thinking is this?
“This is MY BUNKER MOTHERFUCKERS! 
And no genital-sacrificing lizard people
are going to kick me out!”
“NO WAY, JOSE!”
*
There appears to be a long
green tunnel, rather like a vagina 
THE RELEASING OF THE WATERS!
or a throat…..extending and twisting
off into infinity… slimy, green, and
glistening….
(snatch/twat/ cooze/ vulva!
HOLY VULVA! —– cause of the rivers that flow…..
CAUSE OF THE RELEASING OF THE WATERS!
or a throat, extending and twisting
off into infinity… slimy, green, and
glistening….
*
Dexter stares into my eyes
with a look of prescient understanding…
he knows the tunnel… he is beckoning
to me… he wants me to walk towards it….
“CARE FOR A LITTLE STROLL?” he says
with kalidescope eyes…or were they lizard
eyes… I can no longer remember…and that
little detail might be essential for my
future survival…! 
*
Too weird. It does not compute.
“Hey Hank, what does KUNTz have to say
about situations like this?”
*
Hank laughs, a long shivering laugh
that he CAN never repeat in 1000 years,
I hope… 
He says (Kuntz says): ‘THERE’S NOWHERE TO GO
BUT WHERE YOU ARE.”
*
It makes a strange sordid kind of
sense… is this man some kind of genius?
Did he anticipate this meeting already???
Did he know what we’d be doing here??
Dexter grabs my arm, reaches out
to me from the direction of the morning star and
says:
‘RELAX, IT’S TIME TO PRAY.”
Dexie doesn’t kill ya with his prayers
and imprecations…. he makes you
want to kill him. I particularly don’t like it
when he puts his hand on my head! 
*
“The lord has not created the earth: THE
EARTH AND SKIES, GALAXIES AND STARS
are being created by the ONE WHO IS CREATING
US… The LORD IS NOT SOME jealous DEMIURGE
WHO CREATED IN THE PAST TENSE! NO! ”
Double-Dexter proclaims loudly, his fingers
clutching in my hair
*
“Get your hand off my head before I crack you one
with a blunt instrument!” I say, “Stop trying to push me
back down on my knees!” I say. And I mean it.
*
“DO NOT TAKE ME TOO SERIOUSLY,” he says.
… I AM GOD’S ROUNDER, a drunken messenger
“BE my companion in this rollicking
dance that splits the atoms, circles the globes
and pierces the galaxies…..
Only one Mind is at home here,
and there, and millions of light years away,
AND THAT MIND IS MINE!” he shouts
over his congregation… all of whom
are turning from pale faces – to
constant green hues.
*
I notice Hank over off to my right
digging his own tunnel once again,
in a snit…
I think of a hound dog digging, kicking out with
his hind paws, throwing out sand beneath
his ass – as frantic as if he were humping your
leg. Which means he has to dig fast…
Hank is digging fast. As always, when he
has another panic attack – he digs towards the east.
Don’t ask me why…makes no sense to me.
*
This method of building
cement reinforced beams out of re-bar and cement
in order to support the muddy sand ceiling as he digs
deeper his bunker with urgency…towards the East.
All the while to the light of these
candles that burn like toned-down sparklers….
I can only assume the black flecks in the nasty
yellow of the candles are tiny dots of gun powder…
*
What’s so funny now?” I call out. Over the

hissing, cackling sounds… the staccato hissing
is the candles burning…. the cackling is what passes
for Hank’s laugh…
*
“What’s  funny now?” I ask him again.
 
“It’s what he says,” Hank answers.
What who says?” I ask.
“KUNTz!” he shouts, a bursting laugh
passes thru his nose.
“We are too late for the gods but too early
for TOUCHY FEELIES!”
“You can’t fall in the same shit house twice.”
You can take a train; you can take a car:
But “THERE’S NOWHERE TO GO BUT WHERE YOU ARE!”‘
( p.s. That’s the name of a John Rock song) .
Kuntz has started to make rhymes. He is living in the upper Amazon, and has been taking a number of ayahuasca  vision trips…
with a shaman guide…..
He’s doing it the deluxe expensive way. With me
there was just a fire, the jungle, night birds, fruit bats
and some inquisitive snakes… (I’m not even going to
mention the Little People.)
*
Now he wants to talk. Now he’s getting
lugubrious. Now he wants to express himself. He sings:
“There’s nowhere to go
But where you are
You can take a plane
You can take a car
And you might go far
But THERE’S NOWHERE TO GO BUT WHERE YOU ARE!”
*
The song seems strangely familiar.
That’s because you wrote it, fuckhead!
(It refers to the fact that each of us travels with his own neurosis, obsessions, complexes, and negative script derisions….
whereever each of us goes, we take our whole troubled psyche with us….
so we can go to Lima, go to Alexandria,
Bucharest, Bangcock – sit in a cafe in Paris, sit in a dungeon
in Toronto —- and it’s the same old brain, the same old
habits of seeing… but slowly we change, slowly we
learn…? Don’t we?)
I SEEM TO BE DESCENDING INTO DARKNESS
on a green hallucinatin chartreuse train…. dark
memories….
Ninety days butt-naked in solitary confinement,
wearing an asbestos fire-proof top… getting my
meals from big-hipped jail matrons… through a slot
at groin level….
In other words, you want to eat – you stare 
at her big-hipped groin or her, magnanimous butt
right thru the eye slot – aye! aye! I got to like it… 
More than this I got to need it…
BUT…. why are we talking about this? How did we
get here?
*
..WE WERE in WAIT-A-BIT! now we’re in a dungeon
in Toronto…..
Oh, No! No! 
We don’t got no grip at all!
*

“Two things are infinite – human stupidity and the
universe…. and I’m starting to have doubts about
the infinity of the universe…”
*
“GIVE ME YOUR HAND, LITTLE LAMB; I’LL
SHOW YOU HEAVEN AND HELL IN A GRAIN OF SAND,
and I’ll take you to the EDGE of the Universe,
THE QUANTUM GROIN OF THINGS!”
*

40 below Celsius = EQUALS 40 BELOW FARENHEIT

Either way it’s freeze the balls off a brass monkey time.
Got a small generator going….powered an old TV set…
the only thing on is a zombie movie,
“Die! Die! Die” the blonde
heroine is screaming….
Better turn the volume down… in this silence
the tunnel people will think it’s an invasion….
oh I haven’t mentioned the tunnel;
people yet , have I?
*
The population of wait-a-bit is 18
I bet you’re wondering where the other 14 are…
These are the folk who were most disturbed by 
Incineration Day —- seeing everything they’d worked
for all their lives disappearing in flame and smoke….
and then came the second flash.
Bombs come from the skies.The tunnel people
do not trust the skies
so much…. when they are exposed, they rush 
from A to B…..to the D TRAIN… deeper
and more deeply TRAINED to TUNNEL
into the night.
*
No need to FEAR THE WEIRDOS HERE.
They is us.
*
Finally I get to meet the Tunnel People.
I had heard of them once before… only in a dream…
of green Ice-cream….
LOOK AT THE EYES ON THAT ONE!

What is the green in that latrine again?

The green in that drink? It is swirling, circling…
OH we’re going deep deep deep — no blue at all
here…. only green.
*
THE GREEN EYE OF SOMETHING OBSCENE!


It’s a friendly lizard beckoning… waving

me down the green undulating twatish highway
of a nostril snorting me up into a new
reality…
Something I’m not at all sure I want to see.
*
A friendly LIZARD takes my arm
and shakes me… green comfortable slippers,
green eyes….. now Alice meets the TUNNEL PEOPLE.
I am Alice
*
Down, down, down – darker still
the undulating Hershey highway brown and green,
green and dreaming EYE….
IMMORTAL EYE – no blue at all.
Cold grip of his friendly claws, grasps my wrist.
My, my , my: it’s the TUNNEL PEOPLE, at last.
…In green and purple smoking jackets,
smoking a heavy WEED, handing me glistening
mush-goodies. I eat. I am giddy and 
blue-eyed…. under the UNDULATION OF THINGS.
IMMORTAL IMMORAL THROBBING…so it seems
to me when I look at the floor, my neighbours, green
bodies writhing, excreting wahoo!… Yipee!
*
Tunnel People at last, just like in
undiscovered earlier dreams I had bye and by.
Here they are at last, with green martini
glasses —IMMORTAL DELIGHTs in the night:
CHARTREUSE IMMORTALS STILL…
WHO FEAR THE SKY.
*
“Dexter! Put that Bible down and give me two more glasses
of that green shit. ”
I raise both goblets and toast the room. I take
a gulp out of one and long swallow from the other.
I call out to the room: ”
*
I SAY, “As Your Mayor, this is the essence of my job. You
don’t want a mayor who won’t explore….! Not here. Not
now! No way!”
” You know me:

“I’LL PUSH FORWARD ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT
INTO THE RISING EYE OF MORNING!”

Gutteral cheers rise up from the floor.
“Those are my people. What do I do?”
“I dive down headfirst into the fragrant, palpitating twat
of the unknown.”
*
“Hey, Hank! You catching this?”

*
Posted by William Milne at 5:29 AM
*
(C)2014-2016 by W.G. Milne


Wednesday, April 26, 2017

GODDESS ON A HALF-SHELL




In my end is my beginning
As lilacs bloom
      by my door,
 Certain deities
Live again who have
      lived before;


And an ancient face
Passes by my window, three
At a slow celestial pace
She walks once
Again to grace the age

With a glimpse of Her,
No poet ever descried her
      nature
Or was able to describe her,
Hard as he tried
To capture Her golden
      light upon the page.

Yes, she walks now,
She comes up from
      the sea...

And what she leaves
In the minds of Mind
Is not relaxed contentment,
      a lazy peace:
But a prick to the testes
And a ball-kick
      above the knees...

Yet she is adored always.




(C)2017 by W.G. Milne




Tuesday, April 25, 2017

AH, THE LOVE

AN EYE CROSSING WATERS



Moon three-quarters in a dark night sky
Pavement black equally beneath 
      my gaze
I think back of all the many ways
We've stepped and trod
And the many days we rest
      beneath the sod;
Only to emerge again, an eye
Crossing waters
To a new land and hand
And Journey again...

How to tell our sons?
How to tell our daughters?




(C)2013 by W.G. Milne

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Santana - Smooth ft. Rob Thomas - MUSIC IS ONE OF THE CURES




In music a strange communion takes place.
When it's a celebration and it lifts you up -
that's when it's real and really alive. This
song can get you there.

I keep thinking of Bob Marley's fine words:

"Forget your weakness and dance,
Forget your sickness and dance."

MUSIC IS ONE OF THE CURES

Laughter is another one of the cures.

And love in the midst of music and laughter,
that's the best cure of all.




(C) 2017 by W.G. Milne
                      Johnny Rock and the Angels

Friday, April 21, 2017

VIGNETTES

 

vignettes





liver-dark urine
in a sunlit kitchen
27 mice in the closet
and a cat who's new

Van Gogh cycles
a paint so yellow
it kisses sunlight
like the Magi the east,
like a nun...the truth

waiting all night
in an old train station
boy toys and hookers
mill beneath the roof
of the greasy spoon
bar there
where all the 
noise is


and this music from a lyre
that's mute
and no songs on
a guitar that's blue

and flies teem on me
in the deep bush
by a swamp
that's itchy and wet,
deep and rude

and climbing a rock
face and gasping
on my back as
I watch...
the crescent moon.








(C)2017 by W.G. Milne

Saturday, April 15, 2017

AT SUCH A TIME AS THIS




At such a time as this
When wishing is ridiculous
When prayer is questionable
      at best
All a man can do
Is wait with utter courage
For what may not exist.

In the midst of such faith
One trumpet blast is all
      that is necessary
Then watch the walls
Of Jericho 
Come tumbling
Tumbling

And see the holy light
Awake upon all
The gates of the new and
      transformed place
Hellish Babylon comes
Crashing down amid 
Such courage

The awakening of Grace
Makes the holy city blaze
Where all was grey and fallen
An instant before

Such is the wondrous nature 
      of the Lord's Grace
And the One who can hold
      the vessel
High and chaste
To receive it

So easy
It is all so easy
And impractical, non-
      rational
The sunrise creates
The time of morning
In the 3rd eye
Which was blind before.


Thursday, April 13, 2017

CHRIST CONSCIOUSNESS



And he said to me, "Be strong for you are the one to whom these mysteries are given, to know them through revelation." 
         "And you shall present them to another race in another age."
      "For these blind ones have chosen blindness and have chosen disgrace - they are of the dead already. For  the son of their glory they have put to shame."

        The above words were written 2000 years ago. We are now in a different age. And we are a different race.

                             * * *        

        Standing beside the man nailed to the tree
is a joyful man, who is the living Savior, resembling the man nailed to the tree. And
he is filled with a Holy Spirit, he is the Savior,
and there is a great ineffable light surrounding
them, and the multitude of ineffable and invisible
angels blessing them.

          The man who stands joyfully, smiling at those who did him violence, while they are divided among themselves. He observes  their
lack of perception, knowing they were born blind.

And I heard these words:

 "I am Mind, Spirit filled with radiant light;               Mind mixed with compassionate Heart.
  I am the fullness of being which you seek,
  Mind which knows eternal light.

I AM CONSCIOUSNESS THAT IS NOT RESTRICTED BY DEATH"




"GRACE IS NOT CONTAINED IN ANY BOOK, BUT IS THE SOLE PROVENANCE
OF THE LORD." 


"Knowing yourself you will know me,
and I will know you, and the hidden things
will be revealed to you."






   Christ Consciousness is beyond death.

 Christ is not subject to corruption. When we  Know him, his Consciousness will arise among us.

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

WHO WILL BE MY LOVE?






This is a blues song in E minor.



An Em Blues song that I've had with me for a long time. If you like the Blues in a minor key, you'll likely love this tune.... even tho I forgot a few of the verses.
                               Cheers from JOHNNY ROCK & W.G. MILNE
Peter Rowland on lead guitar. Johnny on rhythm guitar and vocals

(C) 1990-2017 by W.G. Milne

Check out Johnny Rock and the Angels songs
at the WILLIAM MILNE CHANNEL on YOUTUBE.

You find this song and about 40 others there.

Screamin Jay Hawkins - CLOWN AND GREAT TALENT







It's so easy to underestimate Screaming Jay,
but he was a big talent --- who had the courage to be funny.
       He cheered people up, pure and simple. And while he was cheering them up, he impregnated 57 women.
       So...biologically he was a great success.

       He had the big voice... and he played great piano. I suppose he could have sung opera...
but the very idea is ridiculous.
       An ebony dancer at the Zanzibar said to  me:
        "NO FOOLS, NO FUN!"
       
     That's what her grandmother used to say.

      But you can't play the fool all the time or people just think you're an arsehole.

       So this leads back to Screaming Jay. I love him because he makes me laugh... and laughter is a great gift.

      He played the fool so much - people forgot that he was a great talent.



How this guy... could play with a bone in his nose.... and write a song about being constipated on the toilet.... and still be loved by his fans...... well- he had a great voice and he was funny and he could play that piano, baby!

He had a magnetic personality... just like some women have magnetic attributes..... good God!
Women loved him... he fathered 57 children...and those are just the ones we know about. God bless ya, Jay!
He's my idea of some kind of inverted saint.

Yeah, Baby!


Monday, April 10, 2017

NO ONE'S GREAT ALL THE TIME

                                                    (Edited version)


NO ONE'S GREAT ALL THE TIME
And this applies to you
You can please a 100 thousand people
But you can't look me in the eye
Most of the time

 

"What good am I.. if I say these things?"
Well, maybe you're not good at all if you can't                 sing
At least not now...this time
Doing this thing



Surprise that you met me
Standing on this cliff

Between the sea and our Creator
Who sees with 1000 eyes
I think maybe I'll love you
Some of the time

Some of the time is fine with me
I really don't need much time
To reach a deep
Understanding



You can look across the ocean
You can look into the fields
If you listen closely to me
You'll feel the way I feel

Most of the time.





(C) 2017 by W.G.Milne
With acknowledgement and love
           To Bob Dylan