The Flutterby Effect

A collection of writing, chaotic and otherwise, where the rules do not exist.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

The Fluttrrby Effect (Glenn/Ian 1996)

Khaos: The Banana is pelt.
Chreation: What dafter daughter open?
Charisma: She's the key to it all, the answer
Chasing Clouds: But I had no question.
Chance: No misty motion?
Catharsis: Have you checked the hygrometer lately?
Chance: Yes no change.
Catharsis: It worries me more than anything else at the moment.
CC: One of these days... aint it peculiar.
Chance: Thats question enough.
Chreation: But theres no such thing as nature.
CC: Naturally enough.
Chance: Not a snowball's.
Chreation: It's a fact that an avalanche can be caused by a falling leaf or broken wind.
Charisma: Earth shattering information,file it under everything I've never wanted to know but couldn't be bothered asking.
CC: But I had no question.
CC: Have you checked the reading on the electromagnometer recently?
Chance: Yes, not a flicker.
Catharsis: It'd e a fine thing chance.
CC: Change is the moment.
Catharsis: Obsession is facism.
Chance: Don't say you want me, don't say you need me, I can't be good no more.
CC: For goodness sake.
Chance: She knows her heart will break.
Khaos: Lurid is my apollo.
Charisma: You can throw your friends further than you lovers if trust's the key.
CC: But I had no question.
Chance: No mixed emotion?
Catharsis: Have you checked the hydrometer recently?
Chance: Yes it's normal.
Khaos: As its use or abuse is, id est ; c2h5oh. To some a raison d'etre even. Discovered, ironically, in antimony by the Arabs, who, naturally, do not imbibe. Biblical reasons.
CC: The wordometer just plummeted to zero.
Confusion: Every known human emotion, that's not what I said "Every human emotion that we can think of has a word attributed to it. but i don't know if that's right, cause it's very difficult for us to explain our emotions.
Cursor: What the fuck did you expect?
Catharsis: Expectation is like trust.
Charisma: Don't hamper my past...
CC: ..... where are you going?
Charisma: To where my heart lies. (Exeunt Charisma, Enter Chloe)
CC: That'll do.
Chance: Aaah there's my wallet.... a hundred and.... a hundred and fifty there.
CC: God! It's the foundation for the unneedy.
Chreation: When caste was thought of, their Karma was already fucked.
Chance:(wistfully) Men want to be loved, women want to change that.
Chloe: If a woman really loves you it means she wants to be your mother.
CC: By doing that they become their own mother and give birth to something as beautiful as you.
Chloe: That's where they fail. Its a misconception.
Chance (to CC): She's telling you she wants you too.
CC: I want someone who doesn't want.
Chloe: Noone shall have me. I'm too good. I'll die lone ly with thoughts of my journey, my greatness.... the only one.
Chance: You're playin yourself.
Chloe: Of course I'm here for you. (Ironically ie FF)
Chance: It takes two people to have a dream.
CC: I dreamed myself into existence.
Chloe: Ahhh (sarcastically)... thats why I dream of myself.

To be continued.........

Saturday, March 11, 2006

In response to on the bench

So
The once proud lioness
who jumped through rings
and stood centrestage on the pedestal
at the carnival of earthly delights
who can no longer bear cubswho displays her sagging vanities
who sharpens her long teeth
on the soft jellies of revenge
seen through the sleights of youth dimmed eyes
was shot
to put us all out of her misery.

Our misery.

To read "On the Bench"
http://www.sleightmind.blogspot.com/

Yacophony

The last time we all got together
was a real yacophony
The hubble bub of insights
and our mellowing wisdom
knives and forks stabbing through
the self-foolfoolling pats on the back
The rattle from chains of word
associations formed long ago
and unsung idealisms turned realisms
on the fattened yolks of broken ego shells

and the property boom didnt hurt either.

Saturday, December 24, 2005

What is Love

Love is giving something more value and is precipitated by intellectually deciding to value someone/thing more or by chemical release from biochemical pathways. Overstimulation of cells resultant from this activity reduces the responsiveness of these cells.

Sunday, December 11, 2005

Agent 86

To see stop looking
To understand stop talking
To be wise stop questioning
To know stop believing
To be enlightened stop thinking
To forget stop remembering
the taste of chocolate belongs neither to the tongue or the chocolate

what do you learn from empty space?

Sunday, November 27, 2005

DECLINE OF SENSEITIwITY 22/11/03

It was the first time he had noticed the corners of his mouth had succumbed to krawity. And as the corners had slipped so had some sense of beink on top of his life. His sense of humour was at odds with his students, and at times, with what he perceiwed were his own humours. He was mystified at both the subtelty of the transition and the bluntenink of self-awareness.
Althoukh beliewink time had been kind, he was feelink somehow paternal towards his students today. He would be amused if they found some idiosyncracy to mimic behind his back…he remembered old Mr Bliss placink his thumbs between his eyes…actually it was Warwick Trikk with his dance of the sewen mowements of the Earth he remembered most fondly.
Respect is not the same think as acceptance. It was respect he could see in her eyes. He looked, rather, for the glimpse of co-conspirator
Howeer, he remained confident experience would carry him throukh in a near automaton like fashion. Actually, it was almost a midlife release to be able to step back, feel the control, and disrobe himself of peerdom. ...Ahh the smell of newly pressed winyl..
An adwenturous musical spirit. That was one arena in which he would newer aje. On the other hand he neber quite met students whose minds were all that open. He could relate to the latest trends, not pop, but jenuine afflictions of the musical kindred. Some thinks neber chanje. Fashion was neber an issue, but he did enjoy short, flimsy or outrajeous fashion. Anythin that pushed buttons.
Ryuki was a traweller. He wore a knitted hat that could hide dreads. The best adwice he could offer was a method for iknitin telephone directories. Paje one throuh a thousand could prowide hours of heat.Althouh Ryuki could appreciate there were backpackers; and there were backpackers where the dream of boots marchin across your face were the dreams of cockroaches searchin searchin, he probably would neer need to know about phonebooks or 44 JALLON DRUMS
...... Afterwards he had reflected upon the wisdom of climbin a lions cage in any state. Sympathy where sympathy’s due. It was still a surprise when this kuy shot his father and his girlfriend thru the head with a crossbow and then settled down to watch TW. No program is actually that interestink.
The thing about the cat incident was that it reflected.
If life has circuitous paths that recur, it was at this moment he remebered the serendipitous moment of hilarity surroundin an experience in a dairy ,when, laughing at a joke about ccatfood ,a man who had his leg ripped off by a lion walked into the store. Afterwards he had reflected upon the wisdom of climbink a lions cage in any state.
Sympathy where sympathy’s due. It was still a surprise when this uy shot his father and his girlfriend thru the head with a crossbow and then settled down to watch TW. No program is actually that interestin.
The thing about the cat incident was that it reflected. The way a gun barrel reflects. Like ice reflects. Like shit in an icy puddle. At trainin college you’re taut to reflect…until the cows come home …to roost.Left is right and rite is left, but up and down remain the same. Except oer time.Your lips get lower, your standards hiyer.(but the ones that mother gae you don’t do anything at all). That cool metallic glint in your eye, your cooling heart, your dwindling awareness, tra’ellin at a cool 50km per hour, stayin cool til after school.

Tui Quill - Another of Calliopes

with this tui quill
dipped in the river's murky ink
that runs through native bush
as the artery runs through this arm
I paint these words: -
fallen kauri foliage
glows sherbet orange
along the forest pathway
ahead, on the track
my shadow crosses
a shimmering puddle of light
the air swishes
and a tui alights
from a branch,
is swallowed up
by the dark green clouds
of the looming canopy
as i stand here
beneath a weeping rimu
which leans and creaks
on the eastern breeze
an indigo feather
falls to the floor

NOS - one of Calliopes in protest on the day

Nos nos, I'm feeling pretty boss
I got my bag of nitrous
and I cdnt give a toss
Nos nos it doesn't cost a lot
You suck it in you blow it out
your skin is growin moss
Nos nos it's anything but dross
A thirty second hit from a world of shit
to a world of candy floss
Nos nos - but Jimmy's getting cross
We makin lots a money
so users can feel funny
it's a high gain no brain

It's all crap anyway - Weta/Calliope

In the beginning, before the candle and the bra, there was nothing what was that nothing what shape. What colour was nothing???
Translucidity incidental, accidental pearly white jismic moths in numeration,
If youre gonna write anything its gotta have panache.. What ami saying? It’s just gotta go somewhere, a bus goes somewhere a train of thought goes somewhere. Even a fog goes somewhere, a fog of thought, Hark the angels sang, WAIT for the gate to open and flow forth the golden words of yesteryear. Hear they come , flowing those golden words of yesterday, dancing naked in the lake of laughter, ha ha this is your forever … after. A beautiful son on a golden day, the world is yaws, take it away you hippy
Every sound has its emotional axis, every word pivots within the hemispheres, the name giving power over the object forever more, the artist attempting to snare it in his net cast forth, the sun forever slowed, the rain channelled, the tree cut, the wolf taking care of his flock. Too much information, clouding my horizontal mind, look at the bird in the vertical, look at the bird on the horizon, it knows more than you COULd ever know, ups,downs, the rounds about , seeds the breeze the unbelievably this creed. Hop. Hopeless. Jump. Bump, into your neighbors tree by electric lamp, take the branch offered by the dove, humping, believing, twittering away its intellect, bare, barren , for divining eyes.
And of course, streamlined, and so what? As a philosophical endeavour it leaves nothing to be desired. Its just gotta go, as the wind goes, as the road goes. As a shooting star goes?
Can I tell you about why I have nothing to say? Im so frustrated by the lack of intellectual avenues yet it seems in ordinary conversation I do have something to say. However what I do have to say appears to be very elusive, it eludes me now. Yes I have been in love if you care to ask.. Ive found it abnormal, out of my own sight. My othe r brother would agree, the one who builds great sculptures from dead trees , having once killed great trees to build his sculptures. He told me the ocean was where to be. To be what?? But he always got his tieds wrong. Hopelessly, (devoted to his dream of her) I meant to meet him on the west (the wild one) and there she was on the east.. Only the lay of the land separating and joining them. No last words, ocean, Open your arms, suck, take me down, no frown, on my forrid, for sickle. Coming through now, no time, no sign. I love youall. Good bye., and sayonara too. (exit waving)
As any good shogun dima samurai ronin would do… sign your fate with a final joke. So ho hay and hear it is (unsheathed). So.
I am beginning to see the light, no colour yet, Im beginning to have some fun. Im beginning to urinate. Im beginning to bleed. Blood red.
There are problems in these times as always. Ithought that you were my friend. Saying I love you is like saying dictionary to mean a word. Philosophy is a vanity. Its just gotta go go go like a fire goes, like music at night, Im beginning to see the light.
Emerging from the black and blue, unwrapping. If I ever die , which is increasingly unlikely, just have Lou Reed playing for a hundred years at my funeral ( I could dream it for a thousand years) Inever felt love… you only feel it if you give it.,I put it on a platter only to be splattered, pollockised. Been blinded by my own sight, happening to me, setting me free. Free to find my own delusions…
Smack me on down.
Dribbling yellow juices, flowing green muck, red and blue mucus, transparent
Trans parent
She never really liked jokes anyway. … laughed at not with. (moth) speckled saliva monitoring my movement. There amour. Pull the rains in, empowered by the name. Electric communication, inform ation nation, its difficult, problematic, god knows she laughed at me, I laughed with her, she must really have hated me, so we killed each other, with poison of course( slow acting) 60 seconds late r I understood my own feet, disarmed my self , shields down, and then she shot me ( with a look) and I told her that I LOVE You. So we died.Happily, ever after, climbing from the casket, faces full of China,


Gloria , Glorium, glorius,

The Greens

Arrivin from a grey desert, London, having seen "the world" in all its shades of grey and brown, descendant into damp greens glowing, the ol hometown's tendrils reach deeply.
Here grudges go deep and are held in the roots, no shakin of leaves and drinkin later with your new best mate. No coins thrown randomly at the match either.
Look backwars at the best times of your life, step forwards into the unwalked unnamed. Spin, circle, return to the centre of the spiral, look to the future through your pastwithin moments, ensensed, catseye green, grey green, verdancy, veined poenamu, pulsing, sage, gauche gelt underipe, singing lime green falling on me, slime green, vinuous wonders, forest flavoured powders. its good.

What i9s beauty? - Weta/Calliope

The moth on the screen
Well its not skin deep nor the eye of the beholder. It’s artificial , mam made because it’s a man made notion.
It is an assertion of what is positive,
you’ve never seen that hue of blue. Is that beauty? You know it’s ephemeral. It has something to do with a unique quality. The stray orchid in the straw even. Why did it flower? The conditions were right.
Beauty is answering why, a childish question
The crack germinating is luck yet it came out and Kei took the top flower, the bluest I suppose.
It broke the time. Personally myself …I like a sweet chicken…ahoney or. . Hey Tandoori come here a minute makes my muscles quiver with delight , protein from zro to outasight. How can a dead bird do that/.
Well, some people appreciate the dark and so all aspects contain beauty That’s where your childhood runs out.. When you stop questioning..
With astranger it does matter because you may eventually have to kill thim
Serenada
Sayonara never ever having been convinced by love, serenade actually
\guitar prayer sing your owed too the rode ahead from heroinonin the blak hole calls.Their id no you here. I only holed my hopes higher than my aspirations desperations next, deflations, reflex ions of being 45 and a kald a cult45, the world is controlled. The poorer we get the pourer we get but Lord Im a fool for a sigarette. He chosen road of loss and broken promises, fences for horses, curious blue questions never answered why? Zedout/.
\My mind is. Awelter of jumpled happients, curious niches, at one with my nieces who lost her breeches in the washing machine
The trouble with pissing out your window in summer is the fragrant waft of warm concentrated piss forever with you. Some people think toilets are beautiful. Hundertwasse loved the water and tinkle of the tinkle, the pepper of the peppermint tree, the kawakawa. Forever changing and beautiful , no two experiences ever the same , as always all ways.
Would you sell your last moment to your bank manager who could liberate all that you had accrued?

I&G 5/02/05

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

keruru - Calliope/Weta

Empty Sheet


Back to Addy ag Bar

Photographs are about loss.

We like to imagine they are about treasured memories and happiness. Treasure? Or its about I was here, defining my existence at some place and time,imprisoned on the mantlepiece not moving, not aging, not REALLY living.

Imagine if you kept orange plates instead of photos to remind you of all your trips to Hunua Falls.

bitten by a spiter. Time for a coffee and whiskey and die your self blue, wearin wolfskins and running in packs of single puffs.

\Resspite , the cigarette was good, second nature, unforgotten after all that time, nothing.

Empty shite. As all weighs. Better than he said she said. Any form of dialogue is a subconscious admission of somethjing unwritten, understood and shared. A de facto announcement of togetherness. Ok so you mean something to me. Doesnt mean I want to grow old with you, yet. Yet...

Early the next mourning we aroused and made out and in. You playing with me for all you could get, me soothing injuries from previous encounters. Its not like before, not like the photograph in your mind, not the imprisoned entity of forgotten dreams., The coffeee is too easy to drink, the cigarette too easy to smoke, the fantasy too easy to live.\

Dumb and numb., my words chiselled flowetry, these chairs..

There was an instantin the bush the other day, like a pang of almost something physical, like I dont know , almost lime sherbert through my veins. An orange moment, oddly enough, yeah, because I saw my shadow in this pool of orange light lying ahead of me on the track, and had this realisation that it would only take a few small steps to melt. Into the shadow. And if that were the moment of my death, I certainly wouldn't be reincarnated. tooo perfect surely. On the other side of the pool of course I still had a shadow except that it was behind me. It seemed important. I dont know why. Also had awareness of son behind me, so, future may be some wayt behind me at that point.

That was the peak . At that point the Kereru landed on the branch almost at arms length, cocked its head, said "Hello", fussed its feathers about then flew off. Like you.



Friday, June 17, 2005

AhhhhyymaaayyyyT

cleaning washing vacuuming the mind, changing the nappies of thought, smoking time away.
A tidy house is a tidy mind, fighting the forces of chaos in my domain is tiring. Order over time.
Put on a mixed lot of socks, yesterdays shirt until todays shower, burn wood. Chaos over order.
No thing never changes ... maybe death... Lifes great multicoloured threads wend thier weft.
... and unravel for all minds to move through, loosely, lost, finding, til we are parted. Endarkened.

bloggerly

blog clog dog fog grog jog log mog nog pog sog tog wog yog zog
oh never mind, nobody home! Go snog a frog...

Monday, June 13, 2005

man alight!

Alight - such starburst before us
Brilliant but painfully unconcealed
Youch!

Friday evening in the jungle I spotted
our old friend gus with the silly sideburns
looking a healthy shade of blue
we meandered through the darker reaches
and old creekbeds of the forest
a fallen nikau starcrest stinking of putrid flesh
a long lead-boot struggle up a slippering hill
past demonic tree trunks
and shrieking parrots
shimmering lime sherbet through my veins
to the light splashed hilltop, aaaah
a sigh of relief on descending
a pang of grief at my trip's ending
as i leave the night swallowed bush.

Sunday, June 12, 2005

Synchronouscity

The Flutterby Effect
Here sit I
there cityou
wonderin what we gonna do
Same time different place
wasted synchro city pace
Got nous , but no us
Got nows and thus
And thens and agains
which starangely rhymes with Ians and Glenns
Got driving feelings to break on thru....

Synchro

The Flutterby Effect
Cracker me ol smacker.. looks like we musta been composin at the same time :-)

Or in other words..

f you didnt click the piccy to read it clearly..


Fanned by some of the beat mynds of our generation
I stood and burned on Port Albert Road
A rounded hipster, connected to the fiery machinery of light
And heat. The lava ash of poetry ,
insatiate with a can of rtd, a package of cigarettes a candle
burned alive in my innocent polycotton shirt
Like a fabulous yellow roamin candle,
I aint worth Jack
Saying common things, yawning, desirous of nothing.
O, what a panic's in my breastie, what bickering brattle
Burn Motherfucker burn
My wound is owed to Calliope, Ginsberg and Robbie.

Howlin Posted by Hello

curiousity

no word for 8 days
have you deserted us
for the Spanish plains?
crackpot psychology
some such terminology
spontaneous words always
sound more natural
than those read from the page
it's just a semantic curiosity...or

/body>