The Caterpillar drools with relish contemplating the cultural exchange of expressions of human spirituality amongst the tribal peoples of central Asia and the Pacific Ocean - Stridulating with the iron-rigor of the crystal carapace the luminous lepidopteral lavae looms large afore me like a quilin come to roam the land in times of great auspicious happenings and mass luminary visionings - With quick and flicking movements of crisp rattling antennae the Primordial Lavae transmits suchforth lore and knowledge to the teeming world - ever-hungry for Mystery - Such is the fish that breams are made of and eye for one nose it - Myriad many-faceted jewel-like eyes of lepidopteral-wonderment shine bliss and bubbling humour through crystaline antennae via the quivering wavelength of psychic-Chi - The countless hands of the Carapaced-One hold quixotic angular and eliptical parchments - tablets and scrolls that hold more juice than all the rantings of the Babylon-media many-tentacled squid-monster - Subduing the babble of deluded dwarves from the City of the Somnambulists the Caterpillar calmly goes about his way - rippling with delight - blissful in reverie and resplendent in iridescent molecular regalia -
Nature never went away - we did - Now it-s good to step back - step back into nature - It never went away - You did - your foreparents did - your fake-culture did - nature never did - still here -
Still dropping leaves in the forest and raindrops in the sea - Still unfolding the fern and shining the eye of the seer - Still mossing the wood and lichening the stone - Still stronging the bone and redding the blood - still coursing in the loins of lions - the heart - the brain - bringing the rain - bringing the surge -
For some years now the elder eldritch lepidopteral lava had been crepuscular-flitting and transmitting the pieces of the Minoan Mosaic Culture to me via mystic meet-ups at the midnight phone-box in Pendoze – Behind the Hump-Me Dump-Me statue - In the heart of the old Jewish Market District – near the wharves where whalers rot unsung at rusty anchor and doubloons rattle in the silt and bilge underfoot – Katapliktikos was the Great Antennaed One as he quixotically and osmotically beamed soft luminous neon blue-white rays from his ancient centres of knowledge and shone them my way – Such was the power of the rays I was frequently stunned and on occasion rendered totally unconscious – only to come to some time later – slumped in the midnight phone-box – some time after midnight now of course and rain rattling on the carapace shell of the tiny glass hut - Never without the glow of celestial knowing do he leave me before going back to the myriad unravelling ways of the night and the mystic business of his thread-spinning and weaving kind - In tubular glass vials and philes of philtres he left chemicular imprints of significant finds in the realms of organic-structure and the nature of all things - On waxen cylinders he left strands of music in many forms and styles for a vast range of instrumental forces - Jars and pots and chests and boxes of scrolls and parchments he passed on and also glass slides and photographic images in many forms – Keys – cyphers – clues – lexicons and harbingers were left loaded – pointing the way to yet more doors to kick open and unleash the collected forces of many cultures and powers – many magical traditions and shamanic studies were included in the ken of the Caterpillar-s whirling feelers – his sentient all-embracing mind flowed over with cultural knowledge and inside nature knowledge like a mighty fountain that sprayed the pigeons that played at its splashing feet - Shedding the hasps and masks of identity and mortal conformity he re-emerged and re-appeared constantly in ever-slightly-changed forms – ever aetherial and elusive – ephemeral and insubstantial – more idea than flesh-body – more thought-form than sinew – this beast was composed of the very threads of mind-stuff and knew no such limits as ye or I do know – So to learn of lute and lyre and kindle Olympos-s fire in company with this great ephemeral creature was joy untold and over aeons did he the tale unfold – Ever holding in the folds of his robe a book – a telescope and a globe – therewith to scan the scene and scour the worldly-realme and surf upon the billows of the foamy deeps and bustle free and high among the puffy clouds of cumulus nimbus blue and aether and jazz on in the sunset-s gorgeous dripping scarlet purple honey of a sunset howldrehevel evening on old Kernouac Cornish cliff most high and gritty grained bulwark of Atlantek-s roaring shore - Zeibekiko he scratched with peculiar charm on the many-stringed lyre he clutched with several of his iridescent exoskeletal arms as he spun the melody in slow sedate largo nine eight shuffle – A noble rhythm for an eagle with wings outstretched or circling vulture high above the mountain-valleys looking for carcass with bead of an avine all-spying eye – Thus did he vouchsafe:
Melting myself constantly –
I dissolve into cocoon silk -
Then I spin again –
Afresh the tale unwinds –
You won-t unravel me by grasping at the thread -
This tale starts at the centre –
*
Winding country road – Many years ago – Leaves blowing from the trees – Yellow the light of the sun – Rain had been driving in sheets – Mellow the smell of the earth – Birds were returning to song – Scatter the light of the sun – Raindrops on dewdrops on grass – Bush-crickets running for shelter – ants sliding skilfully down their holes – Rabbits are running for cover – Thunder breaks dark clouds in two – dark covers over the sky – coolness fills into the air – breeze softly mumbles around – leaves stirs about on the ground – windy and starting to rain – drops big as coins hit the ground – Ears of the forest look round – eyes that have listened to the ground – Skin that has smelt all the ground – whiskers that twitch with the sound – listening the forest around – creatures are stirring in sound – breath coming out of the ground – badgers are mulling and brooding – snorting and snuffles and grunts – badger-breath sticky and hot – Fly hiding under the leaf – glistening radiant eye – shiny the carapace glows – thorax and feelers as one – Well the moving of the morning was unfolding and the waters of the ocean were all seething with scintillating light the waters dancing and all around the winds were softly singing and the hearts of countless people lifted upwards and the rain of light fell gently on the people and the laughter of the throngs was like an ocean and the dancing in the streets was like a heatwave and the singing went right through the flowing morning and the fires still burnt on by nightfall-s darkling and the sparrow and the starling were rejoicing and the ivy was entwining with the elder -
Print - Cut centre-slit - fold into your eight-page miniature edition of The Caterpillar Dub (This month-s edition features The Luminous Three - Sakyamuni Buddha - Quan Yin and Lao Tsu)
melting from the edges - the surface dissolves to leave only the radiant centre -
Street scenes of the everyday night – Phone-boxes of the
street-corner hook-up – Phones off the hook and hangs dangling by the wire –
Carriages rattle past oblivious to the pathos of the scene – Here-s where –
tendrils whirling – I have had the melting experiences of meeting the
Caterpillar – encountering the entity face to decapodic face – Katapliktkos and
simultaneously cataleptic this beast flowed with a natural rhythm that defied
artifice and nullified the bourgeois mind in one fell swoop - This Caterpillar was the repository of myriad
untold dreams from many creatures of many aeons and epochs of singular
collective popular and universal flow and human surge through time-s tapestried
halls and space-s unfathomable caverns – the
lucky beast! Well luck was with the
humans too as the gifts of caterpillactic knowledge culture and science would
soon be spread amongst – disseminated among and generally bestowed upon a
seething and pullulating species of monstrous dream-primate sometimes known as Homo sapiens sapiens – the thinking
man-s ape –
Dreading that forces unfavourable to the transmission of these
cultural treasures were at work – pitting their unwholesome strength into an
attempt to thwart the Caterpillar-s work – he reacted by spinning a cocoon of
activity – changing form and occilatory-rate – seeming to become more aethereal
yet palpably sentient and present – almost human
– no – much more than human – and so capable of seeing into the human heart
– the human body and blood – the endocrines and adrenalin – the biological
underlay that has such influence on the constitution and thus on the typical
thought-process – He could observe all these things with his sweeping –
scanning antennae and drink in the essence of any activity to which he was
exposed –
Plankton-papyri and ambergris archives were opened and
revealed by the hundred feet and the swirling papillae – namely the
psychic-antennae but fundamentally he would work by direct-communique – he
could talk straight into your mind – thus eliminating the need for the crude
semaphore of flapping lips and tongues – the monotonous music of the human
voice was obsolete and seemed unutterably primitive once he had established the
direct method and cut out the middle-man of verbal verbosity - Such things as happen in red public
phone-boxes at midnight in the main streets of Kernouac towns – namely in
Pendoze – a quiet little place by the sea where nothing much ever happens – a
cobbled hobgoblin hovel huddling high on ramparts of steel-slate pewter skies -
*
{For your mini Caterpillar chapbook simply print - fold and cut as previously instructed - a video will appear on this one day - meantime - if you-re stuck - ask your kids!}
*
Feel like I-m under water – like I-m in a trance and I can-t
wake up – My mind is blunt and I can-t wake up - Handel bludgeons me unconscious with his ancient formal-garden layouts - lead-lethargy is aemic and osseous - invading the body with its insidious weight - puling as gravity pulls and wrapping bladder-wrack around me ankles as I stumble and tumble in slumber I wander and seek and search and wonder still with head aloft unto the sky and to the stars my eye doth shine a twinkling reflection of all this - of all this -
All twinkled in the eye of a reflective movement like the birth - life and explosive death of a vast Universal System - a Tri-Chilocosm - a Maha-Loka - Births coming and going and exploding and popping like thoughts - The thoughts of an ant - The thoughts that fill the head that fills the aunt-s hat - The ant-s heart and the hart-s panting breath - Breathess entranced - the Arhat has no thoughts -
*
Inexhaustible realms of consciousness - States of mind - programmes - mental-worlds - mind-sets - beliefs - feelings - feelings - feelings - feel -
*
Death-s Little Imps come and tap you on the shoulder - Mini-deaths - deaths miniaturized and minisculed - death-hints delivered by the Imp Servants of the Skeleton Lord - A bony finger taps you on the clavicle - "You haven-t got forever you know - What do you think you-re doing ~ What do you think you-re doing~"
Phenomenal flow radiating through the tangible part of the universe - atomic poetry unravelling into molecular chemistry and cellular biological entity - Hallo human - please step forward - you-re on - It-s your show - You are the star - it-s yours - all yours - your world - take it - take it easy but take it - take it back to the source and shake it - take it to the shiny void - to the misty cloud - to the starry sky - take it away and sing it to life - offer it life and reflect on it -
Ravens and crows have plenty to say -
The last thing you need is more words in your head - but have some anyway - just in case you do - Anything is better than serious media - a squawking crow is a refreshing sound after you-ve enjoyed the sound of ten thousand fiddles steeped overnight in maple-syrup by demented goatherds - punctuated by the percussion of krogens - carapaces - cocoanuts - goat-skulls - tongueless bells and drums that don-t stick - The sound of falling earth is sweeter than any radio and the sea has more to say than ten million monkeys all chanting the words of Shakespeare - Chaucer and Dickens - So in the light of these revelations you can follow this trail back to the realm of the Caterpillar!
We interrupt normal programming to make way for the voice of the caterpillar - The Caterpillar Dub is the echo of the voice of The Caterpillar - Please listen to these dub-echoes and observe the fusion of struggle and song as a caterpillar nudges its way into the realm of the limpet - nature is a constant re-balancing and adjustment - sometimes with great fundamental upheavals - Who would ever have thought The Caterpillar would be allowed to muscle in on The Limpet with such audacious temerity! Mind you - Caterpillars do have over four thousand muscles - considerably more than you - oh puny human-thing! So unscrew your political head and replace it with the cloud of luminous fog that a poet thinks will pass for a head and head on into the realm of the super-gorwir Caterpillar Dub - Dub - Dub - Dub - Dub -
This goes out to The Ghost of Sid Vicious - forever leaning on the corner of Alexandra Road outside the Garden after the Sex Pistols played Penzance - Sid died at 21 - We must all die - even caterpillars have to wrap themselves in a cocoon of their own actions and melt into a fearless and featureless sludge - poor things! Some of these foolish caterpillars even like to comfort themselves with the illusion of reincarnation - Obviously just their egos that can-t handle the obvious fact of their own extinction - - - - bla bla bla - Anyway I-m locked out of The Caterpillar Blogspot so meantime and for the foreseeable alltime The Invertebrate Press will be using this here website for artistic and political purposes and you-ll simply have to accept the juxtaposition of the two different halves of my brain - I expect it will be great fun for us all so let-s just shut up and get on with enjoying it shall we ~ (Oh I don-t know what happened to Johnny-s ear but it didn-t look like that on the night!)
Global Awareness Month
– A Thirty-Day Telluric Contemplation
As you might know - I-ve been celebrating A Month Of Global Awareness by carrying the globe around with me everywhere in an "open-carry" style - The echoes of this global-dream leached out from my dreamy head into the dream-heads of others - The Month Of Global Awareness kicked off on 31st January - the night of the Blue Moon - with a concert at Redwing Gallery - and a few more clips from the show have surfaced - thanks to my pal Allan - Songs featured are Man Of Constant Sorrow (Traditional American) - White Man In The Hammersmith Palais by The Clash - Panic In Detroit by David Bowie and I-m Set Free by The Velvet Underground -
Meh - songs mainly failed to upload - probably just as well :-) might try again later! If not I-ll be singing them in the street when it hits about 68 fahrenheit - - - out to make a shilling -
Once the 45 quid jangly Les Paul Copy finally subsided into an erie silence and the Month of Global Awareness was launched good and proper - one of the main developments to come out of the experiment was in the realm of archaeology - Considering that the "open-carrying" of the gobe was an open-ended free-spirited free-form experiment - almost devoid of plan altogether it-s significant to me that the main event of the month was the discovery of The Druid-s Throne (or rather perhaps it-s rediscovery!) and a wonderful menhir (longstone) I discovered two days ago on 24th February 2018 - My daughter has named it The Menhir Of The Setting Sun - Check the previous issue of The Caterpillar which you can see on The Temporary Realm Of The Caterpillar Page on this very site!
Here-s a tiny clip of some menhirs above Madron - from autumn 2017: Boswarva Carn Settlement Madron Kernow Britain
http://yecaterpillar.blogspot.co.uk/2017/11/boswarva-carn-settlement-madron-kernow-britain.html More on Boswarva here -
The World Ends At St-Just A Lesson In Basic Awareness - 1) Remember - It gets quite windy up west - so - - -
Globey slunk off to a phone-box after that to seek legal advice!
The Atomic Wind captured by the Impressionist Camera
Union of Consciousness and Matter - a moment of awareness -
Great Uncle Ingolf as Hamlet contemplating the skull of Yoric - Alas! Death Comes Without Warning! For I am Death - None can excell - I-ll open the doors to heaven or hell - - -
They-ve landed!
It begins - - -
With Bronze-Age menhir on an ancient track from Carn Bosavern to Koth Valley -
At the Koth Valley (aka Mastadon Central UK)
At The Druid-s Throne 24:2:2018 - Awarth idhyowek menhir yw
In the picture above the globe sits atop what I suspected to be a fallen menhir - just above The Druid-s Throne (See previous issue of The Caterpillar) - The globe wears a garland of Sticky Weed - proof of The Return Of The Spring -
Here we see the menhir half-clothed in a skirt of ivy
Starting to show through - This prehistoric beauty stood here around fifteen hundred years before Jesus was born - - -
Forgive the ten-year-off date-stamp - One day I-ll figure out how to get rid of it! I didn-t want to trim down the picture and snip the nose of this fine megalith - We are looking at the base - It tapers up towards the far end very gracefully - The illuminated face which lies towards the setting sun is completely flat - in contrast to the gentle and typical curvature of its obverse side - The piece also features the characteristic rising and falling cracks featured on so many of these objects - This one also has groovings that would run parallel to the ground when the stone was planted - Overall length: something over eight feet - Weight: Heavy -
It-s All Over Now Baby Blue – 13th Floor Elevators
I-m Set Free – Velvet Underground
I was born in Texas - Raised in Tennessee - If you don-t like my peaches - Don-t rattle my tree - Brilliant Adventure – David Bowie
FEBRUARY 2018 - GLOBAL AWARENESS MONTH - be ready --------------------------------- UPDATE: 2:2:2018: 1:2:2018 ‘Floydy’s’ Global Awareness Gig - Set-list: Oh Death, Tumbling Tumbleweeds, Sinefiasmeni Kyriaki, Man Of Constant Sorrow, Lost Highway, Edward, That-s The Story Of My Life, Joe Hill, Sunday Morning, Donna, Silly Boy Blue, Scarecrow, Golden Hair, Long Gone, No Good Trying, Panic In Detroit, I’m Set Free, White Man In The Hammersmith Palais, Run For Your Life, Love Oh Love, Say You, Johnny Too Bad, Shocking Love, Stealing Stealing, Police And Thieves, Riding On A High And Windy Day, Out On The Street, Teardrops Falling, Everything I Own, Dreamland, Pressure Drop, Mellow Mood. https://www.facebook.com/allan.clear/videos/10213688222133787/ https://www.facebook.com/allan.clear/videos/10213688682985308/
Look at the sky - What do you see -Aeroplane-Trails that leave dark shadows against the clouds - A profusion of trails criss-crossing each other sometimes like a net - plane-trails that dissolve into long linear clouds that dissolve into drizzle - Taint natural! Just look up - it-s good for your neck anyway - To celebrate this new blitz - this airborne attack on British freedom and basic fresh air and nature I have created this lovely Chemtrails Souvenir Poster for your wall - or even better - for your street - so you can inform your local community about this new threat to nature and health and get labeled as a nutter for doing them the service - enjoy!
This movie shows the relationship between humidity and temperature which is significant in these phenomena - worth watching and you can always turn the sound down and listen to Quicksilver Messenger Service while you watch it!
I'm Jeremy Schanche, British artist and activist. This blog features my paper, The Limpet. Here I write about human rights, the environment and politics. Please see my articles about Harold Hempstead and Florida Department of Corrections, with more at Harold Hempstead Caged Crusader Wordpress.com.
I have another blog that's completely different - it's where you'll find The Caterpillar, a journal of collage, poetry and surrealism that is remixed as The Caterpillar Dub - the world's first Dub newspaper. Both of these can be found at:
http://yecaterpillar.blogspot.com.
In October 2024 I published my first paperback book of fiction - The Horned Whale or An Morvil Kornek by Jeremy Schanche - available at various bookshops and at Amazon.
ISBN: 9780993490903.
175,710 words.
£15.
Contains the mystery novel - The Kramvil, plus two novellas, poetry and glossaries.
Pyrrhocorax pyrrhocorax - Fire-Crow fire-crow
