A sound collage of poetries thrown together today.

lyrics to follow - FAWM-STYLE - up for collab, let me know if you want stems.

---
Escalating again. A virus I don't believe in. It is all up to me how to greet.
We offer silly reasons for changing up the seasons, as angry, torn-up cards collage, as Sphynxes who laugh by the foul-line seat. 

Ripped paper burning up in flamed basins of magic herbs, a feat. Intentions less important than the ribbons Months have yearned for; taking back what we all have done wrong... for so long: a "So long!"

Up the deeper diving goes, Ancestors belong in rows not risen in the crumbs we eat like necrocosmic sovereign seats. Each one a trail where we honour our dead. 
We honour our dead.

Disgust and shame are to blame for terror and surprise. My eyes awaken to the joy I wield as my perceptions, unyielding, glean di-hydrogen-oxide, crystalline, drips on velvet blush. Embarassments like stupid crush, or other shocking developments: All in a blend of dismal envelopments: As we cross the rivers with a psychopierogie: pomp, there is here... ceremony. Arousal and all due formality: Banality is never a finality 

...(YAWN)...

I say "Hey," hey, cheer up, clear up, air out, tear up your teacup: pinky up into the paths; mosaics and icing powder jars: Archaics! Slaying the mind-flayers' mimickry: piece of cake. 

Benched but unimpressed, the crownless but ultimately: (Terrorisn't) less confused by attitudes of down the roadway past the colloseum's abuse:  obtuse, and no noose hangs on like bull juice.

Sorcieres conquered by a side-saddle, quantum, non-local: moving into and onward from the (secretive?)... Plumb-rife with a whole bag of nothing for sale or even exchange when the latter's the better deal to rage around the bricks like Fae who cobble the way us adventurers lay out: brave, every way to crave every witch's cave clay. Keys play themselves, salvaged non-linearly 'cause it's time...

The Jackal in the dreamcoat reminds the staff who stave away their petty hungers for another day; Stowing matches; fire and sulphur; inside a casket-basket to feast, awakened on the smoke arising from burned gaskets: the Giraffe with one eye covered covertly kowtows to a speaker in the tree shadows: allowing voices through - who are much meeker than the Months ourselves, who criticize the fanfare we all twisted in the silly way unplanned but grok'd; a smidge gisted. 

Prisms of baked grass and dust "fee"ing, "fi"ing, "foe"ing, "fum"bling, for a gust of winds of change for lust makes nothing just.

>>BOOM<<

For us, the schisms of needs and agents playing like we're in follied reagents! Sets designed to trap and set free any crap you throw at me that I cannot reuse. 

HMM...

I choose.

...naughty and affirmative!
I give much to Fate or Vespers' gate: and live as substantive bodies sleep in visions gifted! Lidded eyes blink after unseen knowledge breaks the boundaries of memories' grasp upon subjective mess-stories: collaborative receptivities bask in echoed harmonies in temple acousticities and wake the wake we shake at system's shoelace; fake! A bound but chewed-through fucking mistake - just cloth not fated braid to make: I know how to take a look, my Lake - the inlet puddles in my wake, a ripple I splash outward, quake the sandy mud with tiny hop onto a mulchy leaf which stops me from a sinking feeling. Too revealing for an April jam. I choose not to lose. I seem to crew, while I could accrue you.

Synaesthetic Emotions

Synaesthetic Emotion by VISIBLYDISTORTED*

Saturn, I invite you. Saturn, come to play. Saturn, bring us Queen Proserpine, as our Lady, Kore. Saturn, absolve our contracts. Saturn, relieve our debts. Saturn, I invite you to smile with us, in jest. Saturn, let us exchange gag gifts. Saturn, let us wear hats. Saturn, let us remove the ones we finish with at last. Saturn, bring a party up. Saturn, tell the Shades - You are welcome up today, welcome to whisper ancestral sayings into our minds and ears and hearts. Ancestors who drive our carts as Chiron or the Psychopomps and Ferryfolk do row, across the waters that cut away our foes. Saturn, let the guards learn true, Saturn, let them see all they do, from perspectives of the ones who knew the way. Saturn, here today, I ask - I beg - I demand that we play. Saturn, I eat a feast, that all on this May Eve retreat, to treating each other to love and merriment, feasting together in bold, daring, enjoyment. Saturn, hear my call and heed it. Remove your hood and scythe, repeatedly, each day gone forward from this time. The veils are thin. The past is behind. I know, dear Saturn, you will bring Kore back up to herald Spring. This time at sunset we shall dance. Saturn, please keep on your pants. Oh Saturn, silly King of Hel. I request here, not under humble spells, that you, our great Lord of Summerland, show us the way, give us a hand. Let your hood fall and sunlight call to you, as now a grown up Man who feels the call of courtship's drawn out, Cupid-struck and careful ways of attaining that which at the end of desire splits the heart in two or three or more. Saturn, love is now your chore. I call to you, out loud, today. I call to you, and say, KORE! HOORAY! She is returning, young, her beauty and her gentle strum of fingers on the flower stems, bring back our golden goblets, gems of wisdom which shine in her eyes. Kore, you know that your demise was always temporary, Queen Proserpine, you're a Dream, and I invite you back, right now, to wash your pasty face like cloud, in the morning dew, tomorrow, eternal youth again to follow. I know you will heed this here prayer. The two of you, come forth. Sooth sayers like me, know that we have the power. I ask again, I ask, devouring a piece of flesh called meat. I ask, enjoying my feast treat. I offer up my heart and mind for you two to do tasks in kind. Oh Lord and Lady of the Dead, lift up yourselves, come here, instead. Come back to Earth, to Middle World, on this our shared tree, budding, unfurled, with chutes and leaves to be, still growing. I pray and supplicate this knowing. The Guards we keep who sleep away the pain they feel both night and day, allow them to see keenly all. Let spiritual care and education fall into their lives, and for those they quite necessarily watch, Let's let them play. Not just today, but with the task, of becoming Lawmakers, at last. Let their experience turn into beginner's mind, and all they do, and have done ever be let go. Allow them all to know, what's best in a world that we all share. Saturn, Ma'at demands you're fair, both in your countenance and your work. Vesta too requires that smirk upon your lips as you bring us some mischief but it will be just. Vesta burns a fire for you, Kore, and for your future too. The two who govern over the land of afterlife, give me both your hands. I ask again, one last time here. Saturn, Kore, come bring us cheer. Saturn, Kore, come bring us cheer.
May Eve Blessings!

Saturn - Kore - Prayer - MayEve - Jacki Moss as visiblydistorted

Powerful Thighs

visiblydistorted
May 2, 2020

(this is terrible.) yup...
(dragon breath out the nose)

- cue beat
(("This is the worst fucking thing I have ever written. It's literally painful."))

2,3,4

It'll be a sprain if it don't stain. -(whispered under breath)


get lip-lickin'
wonderin' when I'll thicken,
stricken,
courage we are lackin'
smitten,
like,
smited by this kitten,
She's dank.
Filthy like her kitchen.
Dishin' out the bubbles, 
(ain't no champagne-region / bitten out of season)
She cranks the ounces open,
Hair of "that ol'"... sippin'

smilin'
crows feet crawlin': finally!
She know
Her booty's droppin' low, 
down,
like information glazin'
the screens we all be watchin'

Paranoid that it ain't delusion,
the solution, is no tissues.
She's abusin' and amusing.
Losin' what's issued
to the hive mind honey pot,
for which we're searchin'...
Leprechaun artists, the lot.

Meade like Odin's:
jacked from the gilded cauldron, 
droplets
like a gob-shot, of fresh-cut hollerin'
many as she's got,
off-wallin' it.

crush it with your hot, hot, thighs.

powerful
punishment
pulverise
((someone, for fuck's sake))

like a Welsh Ancient spittin' out rhymes.
(("Terrible, isn't it??"))

Cunny is an epithet.
Lover, immortalize...

(((unplanned way-too-long pause while we pretend to achieve apotheosis)))

squawking out loud, crows recognize,
the tongue-trill you make, and we fantasize...
about that ululation undulating us.

About how you are shakin' them nuke plants,
Dragon-Thighs,
Capitolize, please.

You're a powerhouse in a soft shell.
compartmentalized,
squattin' to the roots,
as you Dragonize.

Kether to the boots, 
Middle-Pillar suits.

 (continued in comments)

Powerful Thighs

NSFW - Powerful Thighs - by visiblydistorted (extended blank verse)

Bits of word for purposes of honouring some history I believe may have been part of my greater mystery.

May 05, 2020 - For the Ancestors

Sacred and mundane, these ways we tolerate the profane abuses. Substantiated ruses, incendiary conclusions.  Now, barbecuing allies like their demise is a cheap prize... realize, it's our guardians we're chewing, got no guidance brewing, in a propane-flame-throwing game,
hunting, trapping
Lamer than the arm of a god who does the same, when He's to blame.
For we, the sane, dance in a new way, manes flowing as we're getting to know more slowly glowing, lowly to the pain-sources,  call 'em,
off-courses,
know it's lickety-split we got these gifted Horses,
We're rattling, drumming, shaking through obstacled courses,
lessons making meaning of each ring of our helper forces,
we can't ignore this
abort the compartments, thwart it, even in the fighting moments we absorb; we adore the abhorrence, we implore it.
Questioning the memories we pull back from Yore, we gore for more,
Ashore, in the sober days that follow up these mystery plays, our ways intermingled in the pre-stake'd days, boundaries of hedges were the only shades of maze-blazed strays,
Seeking to generate a healing by dealing in the praiseless, fear-based, crazes of the year-spinning ones,
Babes and their bros, familiars and neighborhood hellos,
Jays and ravens, salmons, canines, all held tight away; never named, never waved to,
left to pray, from that firey decay of the wiser, 
systemic geiser-fount of life-force alchemical as a stem-cell grail - chalice of leeches,
A trajectory of breechings, of lessons that these old Churches stomp down with secrecy, a priest-police city, releasing social poisonings, inquisitors and torture-bringing what? for a fee?
Nothing but a yawning gap in the history of family, a tree with branches lopped off, cast away, gladly;
eternities of teas and weeds and balmy cauldron-grease, forseeing all we've come to be: calamity.
I release.
Whatever did we sign up on or oath to That reality? 
I release.
Yeah, it can't be just me, seeing clearer than sparkling lenses afford to me, gradually,
I release.
As my elders grow and pass with just one thread unified of story without glory,
unless the men I hold uplifted have the trophies - women mostly,
Fuck the chores, I live to mosey.
I don't need to be beholden to a destiny that never served a piece of peace to anyone from whom I've sprung, yeah, or suckled at a breast to eat, while a lung beneath sang a song to me, at least. 
Just held 'em back until I became enough to beat
The Class of Glass,
I know there's reasons we keep, each,
I need to believe it's never defeat I teach,
as I reach out for the magic my ancestors need from ME. 
Heal. 
I release.

Healing Ancestral Contracts

VISIBLYDISTORTED - Healing Ancestral Contracts

Assumptions Make The Obvious

Assumptions Make The Obvious - VISIBLYDISTORTED

Time Printers

 May 12, 2020
 visiblydistorted
 
 As we learn time travel better,
 And have meat printers that make
 Human beings in the spitting image
 Of someone we once knew, we take
 Liberties to send them back,
 To times of yore when we were there,
 Our consciousnesses dancing free,
 At past lives we attempt repair,
 Doppelganging Jerks and Trolls,
 Who need a little karma infused,
 Identities a philosophical,
 and maybe spiritual sort of abuse,
 But not to steal, and not to lose,
 Just to double up parabols,
 The ways in which the story arcs,
 Longer, shorter, anywhich axial rolls,
 So, mocking me, as my mind relocates,
 Bi-location no longer a mystery,
 I steer myself toward invisibility.

(see comments for more)

Time Printers

VISIBLYDISTORTED - Time Printers

See poem in comments.
===================

07030053.wav "Woodland: Early Morning, March, birdsong, distant traffic."
Sound clip comes from:
https://bbcsfx.acropolis.org.uk/
bbc.co.uk - (c) copyright 2020 BBC
see:
https://github.com/bbcarchdev/Remarc/blob/master/doc/2016.09.27_RemArc_Content%20licence_Terms%20of%20Use_final.pdf
see also:
http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/doc/open-government-license/version/3/

Morning Bird Song

Morning Bird Song - VISIBLYDISTORTED

Haha, I came out with something horrid, and this was the tune I chose to make instead. Named after the terribleness but not including such.

Cursophonic

Cursophonic - VISIBLYDISTORTED

A feel good chill out vibe for people who need to let the scouring end and the sloughing begin, energetically.

Thoughtloops - VISIBLYDISTORTED

A personal meditation journey I took to find a power animal through visualization.

Jacksterisk

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