something very unpoetic, yet abstract, interesting.

[The Mystery Valiant]

I've been working on something that was inspired by a great musician. Jimi Hendrix. I read some of his writings and I've been trying to emmulate them. Not much success toward his level, but practice makes perfect. I'll have to dig into thet dark recesses of my closet to give you an example of his writings, But for now, these are from my effort. I know they will face raw criticism, and even quite a lot of confusion. These have to be examined with an open mind and a total lack of logic. It's like walking on an alien planet. Otherwise, there is no other place for this......., innovation.


“Ankrystadim”

Understand if you will, understand if you can, understand that the stars will laugh at the silly “Nom De Plume” of wasted free will. The arc of the pain and wearing the green, I push the bars a little farther from the atmosphere and wiggle a tiny sunset from the fox chasing the moon. I could give you an idea of the slated imagination, but kind and gregarious follow the absence of his highness, King Gregorio and his entourage of flapper’s. Martha, my dear, we waltzed around the pool at dawn, and we told the high dragoon guard to exit out the bayou with gator slide.
Maybe I’m a little off, , maybe I’m a little wide, Maybe I’m ready to argue the inconsistencies of the nine planet solar system. It’s the way they plasticize the maze as they estimate the kiss of the thunder to the magnetic flesh. Understand the small star called faith on the badge of hidden pineals. Spinal steel at the stealth project cascade, and you just lean into the wind. Richly rewarded as the kindling for the master treasure- smith, I like the way we wear the lion’s mane. Astro-maniacal psychosis over the tower of intransigence.
Always at the door, always at the height of Roman civility, always looking for a friend to restrain the hound’s, which search for a hint of obfuscation. It’s my mastery of understatement. And the unusual trade worked its magic into fire that dances in their libido. I’m as ugly as a gargoyle and as desirable as Medusa in mud. But my light shatters the pain that infuses the geometric mathematics at the chemical poison. The castle built in the corner of a pyramid and the colossus cradled this Bijou in the crook of his arm. The Austrian exercise, portrays Martin Luther as a taxman to enchant the mistress’ and obtain their visions of the foundations of the silent stage.
Stand at the dock and run to the gate and we just watch the fury lash at the pig’s. History, a fickle concubine cannot maintain the status quo as the burn of the ID voices vigorously screeches at the whole/one God. Whither my faithless flesh, we cannot echo the foundation upon the candle of the sun. I know it’s hard to hard to understand, just remember the life you lead, and wear your ribbon as the standard of a spirit heart.


The Mystery Valiant
2-3-2001


P.S. I call these types of work, "Icons".

http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/Dragon3alt.jpg​

 

[wildsweetone]

i don't know if what you've written is Jimi Hendrix style or not, but it sure is very odd reading for me, but then you knew it would be i'm sure.

'Icons' - put up another one.

 

[Feathers_And_Cream]

Interesting, if odd. I like the way it stretches my brain and my vocabulary.

One question: towards the end, in this phrase, "as the burn of the ID voices," do you mean "ID" as the shortened version of identification, or as Freud's id, the animal part of the psyche? Both are interesting thoughts; I was just wondering.

 

[The Mystery Valiant]

Of course I will.

For feathers and cream, yes. I do Mean Id. Howwever, The complete capitalization is as well an effect of the Icon. To bring it more substance and definition in more than a singular sense. More like an association of a social or cultural amalgamation. The effort as a whole. Yes, not very literally or grammatically correct. But an experimant just the same.

Here's another Icon:

“Aspected Sapien”​

One day, the sun had shown down and the star’s winked at once to the new arrival of the light of all time. To know the mind was deeper and more obscure than can manipulate the veil of all thought and matter, that we matter, that can matter, that plays matter. And the core shall expand to the ethereal gates. Had-a-my-podunk, the razor cut the ribbon. As a child in the Milky Way, it was a given thought that began in its birth and the conception of the power that stands in the foundation of the every-song. Try a flavor of my dream’s as we dance in the fabric of the cause.
I like the kind of that mysterical travels in the universe without losing a little friend, and we’re all connected as the judge, jury, and law-maker with the border’s made of creation. It’s hard to understand the mass through atom’s and molecules. But the mind, the mind, the mind, doesn’t stop its power within its small stardust border’s. It’s the flow of the master work that so many chef’s had a hard time in, but deserves the single heart.
I like to play ostrich dance on my CD satellite and as we dog a failed demon and watch the rainbow cascade light an amethyst candelabra. Check out the ride on that light-speed Quasar. O.K., maybe just a giggle, my love!

The Mystery Valiant
2-11-2001​

http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/Dragon3alt.jpg​

 

[wildsweetone]

oh good grief, it's beginning to make sense to me.

please put up another one.

it must be very 'freeing' to write like this.

 

[The Mystery Valiant]

Like other things

It has it's constraints. But quite the lesser of a disciplined dogma. The fact of the matter is I've tried to be a solid writer. But some of the rules seem so contradictory. For example, Hunter Thompson was a rebel writer and was given nothing but praise for his form of rebellion. But it is still a brutal task to find a way to appease those who demand, naught else but strict regimen. It does help a desperate creative mind to let free its imagination. Sometimes, chaos is just a form of vacation. So then, lay back, by the beach, and sip your Margarita. Time to slip loose the bonds of negative reinforcement.

“Tessering Maelstrom”​

I’ve got a friend that works as a Fruedian slumber partner with Queen Elizabeth’s Worchester Grenadiers. Kind of a jump in a mud bog and sliding down a Jell-o avalanche. We walk along Montego Bay and wash over at the lattice falls. When we wander in the straight-a-way and we stand logger at the minor acquaintance incorporated for the usage of the extra-curricular meditation. A psychic attunement to the willow in Attenborough, New Hampshire that careened off the Wal-Krege in Sweenaha, Kentucky. I have the feeling, all of them whistled at the sheer stacking that enraged the Kennedy cover-up. But the dog harassed the boy walking to the corner five and dime for a pickle, a cracker, a peppermint and a loaf of bread. The smoker suffered.
As the screen wiggled with a slam of each entrance/exit it wears an echo in the neighborhood. Of my harem of dream vixens, it’s just a little sad that the kin is a wuss of societal phobi-brains. Why does the arthropod stride, through the swamp and the oozing life squeezes through, encasing the struggling steps. The time slogs through the dampened clusters of predilection and dragon-born destiny. As the efforts of all creation straps the future, allowing the aspirations of turquoise foot soldiers. If our compatriots wear a crown of constraints and belittles the children, whose laughter lifts the rivers and the seas and transforms them into ever changing pillow-fire nomads of the sky.

The Mystery Valiant
10-12-2001​

http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/Dragon3alt.jpg​

 

[wildsweetone]

you know, it's almost as if you've taken a page or two of normal prose writing and mixed up phrases.

the other thing i find interesting is that sometimes the words come together in a poetic way.

 

[The Mystery Valiant]

Vibratory empathy

If you speak the words, you can feel some flowing through your body, on a vibratory level. I'm not really sure what it is, but there some ethereal or mental connection and it seems to juice up some portion of your existance. Somehow it seems to attach it's own personal signature vibe to seperate parts of your being. Also, if you can put a rhythm to reading, it makes and odd, almost and seemingly symmetrical puzzle in your thought's. And it fits the pieces together almost at will. I'm not really clear on its significance, but I do think the words and structure come from inside as almost a synchronized fountain of bubbles from somewhere I can't truly locate. but I do know that I can do it, and I have to thank Jimi for that inspiration.

I'm just guessing here, but I think that at some reflective point. I feel that it is natural. Almost like talking to mother nature.

http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/Dragon3alt.jpg​

 

[wildsweetone]

fancy writing one without any punctuation at all?

 

[The Mystery Valiant]

Try tackling my "Masters"

I thought since there are those that find some significance to my "Icon's", that I would check and see what kind of reaction I would get from my "Masters". Kind of similar to the Icon's, but shorter, tighter.

“Master Ten”​

Itty bitty yellow polka-dot spaghetti to wash the fruit of my education in the mashed potatoes astrology. Maybe my frustration as the major egg carton and the weather of Kingston Harbor makes for a sweet flush, pushing the matron towers up front. I wiggle a little ugly passion for the play at my eventide muscle. Heavy duty, extra snooty, pick a donkey and major rookie. It’s my thought that a Monster like a Godzilla is a hell of a lot smaller than the monster on my CD. The wolf howls in the concert with Benjamin Franklin.

Shiloh L. Augustine
6-25-2001​

http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/Dragon3alt.jpg​

 

[The Mystery Valiant]

Since no Light....

Well, since no response has happened inquite a while, I guess i'll start using this thread for creating more "Icons" and 'Masters". I think today I'll put in one of my more abstract "Masters".

“Master 18-PC Spy”​

Well! Miss Jenny! I saw you sneak out through the bushes last night to the dance at the sock hop, at “Freddie’s Dance and Taters”. Near “Figaro and “Sasquatch”. Funny how the frogs and the cricket’s kept the beat with “Charlies Rock Wrestler’s,” all night long. The stranglehold of the major “Kosher Creampuff”, held over the small village, “Elder Mast,” by the shores of “Inner Core Pressure” river, made a few of the townspeople go and egg the Town Hall. But I’m a stickler for understanding the underdog. Or was that under-the-dog. Oh well, always in my heart is my concern that my girlfriend thinks I look like a dog. For crying out loud, what does she know? We just fry our marshmallow in a creamy cheese sauce. At a ding dang, ostrich coach. Ladle protein master we pair the froogle in a monster truck cab. Let the teaser and Mr. Crenshaw get the Barracuda and dive off into jukebox heaven and then wheel the “Furious” Fury under the garage roof.

The Mystery Valiant
8-23-2002​

http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/Dragon3alt.jpg​

 

[The Mystery Valiant]

Another "Icon".

As this seems to be dragging, and I just can't seem to get much interest going out for the new stuff. Yeah well, if it were easy..., yada yada yada. Well, if anything, I am persistent and indeterminate. I kinda figured it would small and few..., maybe none. But my heart isn't lost in the maze.

“Architectural Advantage”​

The play wears a kind and personal heart and the white star flies in for a look at the crater city in the bowl. Astro-metrically, a diamond is a cheap toy. A king wear’s his jeweled crown and shelters the myriad of rashes away from the raptor’s eye, gathered for the blood lust. I hasten the feathered pinwheel cause and with Cleopatra, asks Sammy, if the big city oven’s cooks as well as her sandy.
Identity crisis muddied at the door and shouts “Ecuador pipes in the balalaika concert’s, and wears the estrogen web T- shirts!!” I can’t stand the fretting ostrich and pegs at the endangered ark pistons. It’s the kiss that flavors the wasted soul that a dog howls against. As the feature pledges and articulates it’s incredibly volcanic, speed demon granite boulder. Freed was the passion that slipped by the cash dog and lay unobtrusively in the back yard.
“Ostfriesland was a sloop inside the educational teachers lounge.” Said Doctor Sandeen. But that was a proper asterisk, of course strictly for the use of Papa Moda Strap, and we rocked at the Roxy Gutter. Dubya dealer working as a kink ready sailor at a head butting contest. It’s all a walking cane wallowing toward the portrait of “Blue Boy Cheesy”. Regurgitate a hummingbird at the “Beehive Beanery” and the diner spilled grease along a dessert cradle. Corduroy to indenture my soul. Echo out the door please.

The Mystery Valiant
1/15/2001

http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/Dragon3alt.jpg​

 

[The Mystery Valiant]

No.....

fancy writing one without any punctuation at all?

That would like speaking the entire thing in one big breath. Inconcievable! And very counter-intuitive. I've seen those items without punctuation, and it becomes total chaos and brutally unreadable. Punctuation is like the drumbeat of a song. Without it, it becomes diminutive.

http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/Dragon3alt.jpg​

 

[The Mystery Valiant]

A great sadness

Very little reaction from anybody here. I'm saddened. I was hoping for some real serious abstract passions here. I think I'm concerned over the lack of openness for new attempts at making a better, more creative and errant imaginations. But even so, here is another "Master".


“Master 18-PC Spy”

Well! Miss Jenny! I saw you sneak out through the bushes last night to the dance at the sock hop, at “Freddie’s Dance and Taters”. Near “Figaro and “Sasquatch”. Funny how the frogs and the cricket’s kept the beat with “Charlies Rock Wrestler’s,” all night long. The stranglehold of the major “Kosher Creampuff”, held over the small village, “Elder Mast,” by the shores of “Inner Core Pressure” river, made a few of the townspeople go and egg the Town Hall. But I’m a stickler for understanding the underdog. Or was that under-the-dog. Oh well, always in my heart is my concern that my girlfriend thinks I look like a dog. For crying out loud, what does she know? We just fry our marshmallow in a creamy cheese sauce. At a ding dang, ostrich coach. Ladle protein master we pair the froogle in a monster truck cab. Let the teaser and Mr. Crenshaw get the Barracuda and dive off into jukebox heaven and then wheel the “Furious” Fury under the garage roof.


The Mystery Valiant
8-23-2002

 

[wildsweetone]

fancy putting up something that you've done recently? this week? i'm nearly tempted to throw caution to the wind and try it out. nearly.

 

[wildsweetone]

i tried to wrap it up in a hundred words but the sounds left me like yesterdays baked potato sitting on the floor, half mauled by rodents and relegated to symphatic operatas welcomed only by claws rising from the ground.




nonsensical enough?

 

[The Mystery Valiant]

Ooooooooooo! I like!

It has some fluidity and a nice bounce as well as a point of connection. One little clue I can help you with is that everything I work from comes from some point just beneath my heart. And although I do make the words, it is mostly inhabited by sensensations and feelings. I don't try to make solid sentences, that may be more of how your soul works it though. I just try to take what is given to me. I guess I would say that whatever is making this happen, gives me the orders, I just try to make the best job out of what I'm given, out of the intent of the boss. Although..., this is the kind of work I love! I really don't try to construct or imply parameters to what comes.

I'll try and work one up for you soon. I can't do it through the computer because it takes too much concentration to type it out. I'm not all that familiar with typing things out. I will have to do it on paper. Then transfer it to computer. Give me a couple of days, maybe four before I come back with it. It is not something that I have been familiar with enough to command it when I need it. I'm still pretty much at the mercy of inspiration on a partial basis. But I am getting to be more attached to the feeling. It still takes time to sum it up.

http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/tarantula_ctio_big.jpg​

 

[Liar]

Yeah right, ok, whatever, maybe this is just a monkey brain instinct and maybe Darwin is doing a jig six feet under, and maybe mind is nothing but weaved synapses marching to the band, a clockwork for twin helix unzipping, and maybe nature strives for structure by default and we are but a crystallized swirl, and on sub atomic level even matter is merely the idea of mass clusterfucking a charge, the post orgasmic buzz of the biggest bang in history. Yeah right, ok, whatever, maybe all of that is true, I'm still horny enough to trigger a new franchise of multiverses inside of your singularity. Wanna play God?





Hmm. I feel like I thought too much when I wrote that...

 

[The Mystery Valiant]

It is an interesting piece though.

For a second there I thought it was an attempt at a cut, or dis. But as I got further down the paragragh, it just didn't seem working wicked. When I got to the end I had to go back and try it with a different flavor in mind. Afterwards, I read the sentence at the bottom..., almost missed that.

Disassociation of thought is probably the most difficult things for a thinking soul to achieve. We depend on it so much. But I did get some tip from a meditation book, and it seems to have some thing just off-center to what the meditation teachers employ. They ask that you stop thinking when you sit down and meditate. To them it is essential! They offer as incentive that you can't hear God talking to you unless you just listen. And you can't listen if your talking. Or thinking.

It takes a lot of practice and it is very frustrating sometimes. But it does happen. But then I took it somewhere else. Instead of talking and listening with my head..., my brain, I tried to listen with my heart. But it wouldn't sit still. It wandered down into a deep place that I had never been before. It was at this time, after meditation, that I put on a record of Jimi Hendrix. I was taking it easy when I picked up the album cover and saw it had one of his written pieces he had done while flying over Denver. I read it and it struck me. I spent the next several months mulling it over. It was then that I tried my hand at it, and it was not working like his was.

Several weeks later, I was meditating when I started having strange visuals and decided to write them down. I noticed a correlation with Jimi's writing. I thought it out and started searching for what that meditation gave me that I couldn't find on my own. It was then that I noticed this odd sensation just below my heart, and deep. I've practiced working this little spot with my writing for a long time. A lot of my writing was stolen when I was in Tulsa, Ok. So I had to start over, it was then that I decided to try some poetry as well.

I know that this is a lot to read and to spend time with. But there are rewards.

http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/tarantula_ctio_big.jpg​

 

[wildsweetone]

I am sorry to hear your writing was stolen. I guess the bright side of that is that another person thought it fantastic enough to steal. *smile*

I have trouble with meditation because of my tinnitus... I need to practise more but instead find myself procrastinating and avoiding meditation because I know I'll never hear silence again. Still, I'll work on it. *smile*



~


listen beyond the heart, beyond those strings that tug and tie sailor knots, jailbait the deck, knife the cancan. drive twisted metal, a stake won't bleed though punctured wings scream and mudcaked socks swim the Tasman. open trunks sell rocking horses and saucepans, books to field questions. miners wade in antannae-high saline, photograph coral and weave cd holders in the hopes gilded mirrors smudge reality.


(this reminds me of the black paint pictures my mother kept from my first days at school. )

 

[The Mystery Valiant]

Ah, here we go..., assumptions.

Actually, the person who stole my "Icon's" was not the least concerned with my work. He more than likely threw them away. I was in Tulsa, Ok. and had been there over half a year. I had a pal that I was sharing a Motel room with as we had both been homeless for a while. Things were bad there and I decided to get out! But when My friend took me to the Bus station I went in to get my ticket and when I came back out, I saw him turn the corner in his car. There was no way I would be able to run him down. My clothes,wrirtings and guitar's and amplifier's were in his trunk. But then I had a friend call me up and tell me that he had hocked my guitar and amplifier to get money supposedly for gas for his car. So, more than likely he sold my equipment and threw the rest away.

Actually, when you meditate, you should shut out any and all input from the world and your surroundings. You have to make your mind shut out your tinnitus and any other noise that will occur. Your mind has to shut out the real world and emerge in its own little waiting void. You must..., silence your mind. Numb it to the material and coporeal existance. It is training to make your mind master all that the body exists in.

I'm sorry I've failed on my promise to have an "Icon" ready for you this week. I'm in the process of moving and I'm being grounded by an eneormous amount of delays. I just can't seem to move out of my molasses.

I can see some vital actions here and feel some rhythm. But it is a little bit of a stutter. I like the miner wading in saline and hopes gilded mirrors smudge reality. I think you have a marked start here, and I think you will find that feeling and wordsmithing, as you keep working on it. I do so like the intent in the "Icon". I don't want to discourage you for some failed misinterpretation of badly compositioned words. I think that it shows a lot of promise and I do so hope trhat I have given you some merit of what you have shown. I will try to have another "Icon ready as soon as I've finished moving.

http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/whistlemaker/tarantula_ctio_big.jpg​