so wonderful !! I could feel ritual feeling !!

again you express the unspeakable! marvellous piece! ☻

Charming and strange. Is this the theme to a Tv talk show or a molecular cooking class?

Orgiastic! Reminds me of a scene in Eyes Wide Shut!

great vibes, very mesmerizing - which is what I'm sure you were going for

Buy at Bandcamp

Vimulent

The Smoking Trout continue our tale of the Quest for the Holy Dumpling. This time we're joined by our biggest crew yet! Stonerjazz (Jeff) got us started and somehow the whole process unfolded quite organically from there. TexMex Shaman (Stephen), Jo Richter, Tot (Masa), Jeff and Tea R Sea (Terry) are regularly recurring members of the band. We are happy to welcome Wivresse (Carine) and Neil Harding as new guest contributors. This was tons of fun as always, and a truly global collaboration spanning Japan, France, Germany, UK, and USA.

Stonerjazz (@user-911083679) --- Words, Vocals, Guitar (pt II)
TexMex Shaman (@texmex-shaman) --- Guitar (pt III)
Wivresse (@wivresse2) --- Xaphoon, Vocals, Water sounds & percussion
Tot (@tot-beat) --- Drums & main beat
Jo Richter (@sonic-textures) --- Thundersheet, Instrumental prelude & words (pt I)
Neil Harding (@user-484622070) --- Spoken word vocals (pt I)
Tea R. Sea (@tea_are_sea) --- Production, Synths (pt II), Sound effects (pt I)

Catch up on the Quest for the Holy Dumpling: on.soundcloud.com/FR63a
Listen to the Land of Zed, Smoking Trout's debut album: on.soundcloud.com/WB34q



written by Jo Richter performed by Neil Harding

" Those individuals on wheels had a hand time finding their feed. Hungry they were - for that special dumpling that connects you to anything pagans and believers alike deem holy. Although endowed with holographic properties, you can't walk on clouds unless they are numbered. They kept drifting upwards, therefore, slowly upwards until they hit the ceiling called Mars. Mars always happens to be where your head needs something to bump against. That's the nature of war. "



written by jeff gardiner

It turned out
there was never any doubt
about
how it was gonna be

ya know it's hard sometimes
to get a grip
drifting in the misty corridors of time

Hope we find that dumpling soon
maybe it's on the moon
traveling at the speed of light
we could get there sometime later on tonight

everybody on the bus
runnin hard and hot
some of us holograms
except for Gus
he's an Alien from outer space
waiting for the rendevous
at the window of the launch
in Oaxaca down in Mexico
Where the magic mushrooms grow

And his bus
a shuttle from the mother ship
disquised as a 1983 GMC
infinity
He's from another Galaxy
searching for the holy dumpling
just like you and me.

Except For Gus--Holy Dumpling #9-The Smoking Trout and Friends-See Bio

Here a new Pythyrsus track with Mesmo :
https://soundcloud.com/mesmo1
And with one of my dogs Sidh and one of his friend and me 🌝
--------------------------------------------------


Transparence du désir
Goutte de pluie
Et focale des reflets
Défaits par défis
L'enfantement Faé
L'autre en huitre
Sa perle
Les mots de hache
Ton inspiration
L'hémoglobine
Dis moi comment parler, relier le monde à l'iris des crépuscules qu'incantent quelques rossignols câlinant ces craintes presque cramoisies ici.
Ici,
Les louves louent la loi liminale que je baise de tous mes interstices ainsi s'y insinue ces glaces initiées par l'adrénaline, alors tu, noues ces retours roucoulant l'orbe béatement bleu comme la blonde braisée que tu bénis de ballades ou, et, où tu respires l'utopie radicale.
Sinon, tu regardes les rayures de l'azur pour mourir en toute pertinence de plaisir, ce culte de désir, ce culte de désir, reins décidés, culbutes réifiantes, tessiture des cibles, blème des cieux, dans ton creux, ce culte du désir, toi, dieu du moi, moissonne moi !
Voilà que la poésie gicle !
Ou dégouline.
La vie en son doigté.
Avec le rire.
Reste le rire.
Reste rire un rien.
Un moment.
Un parsec.
Et je t'en prie, entends le chant :
Tous les héros solitaires et traumatophiles de l'occident cherchent une tribu.
Tous les héros solitaires ne le sont que par le miroir brisé.
Leur tribu frémit.
Tous les héros solitaires ont les ténèbres comme princesse à sauver.
Leur tribu ferme leurs bras sur le vide.
Tous les héros solitaires et traumatophiles de l'occident cherchent une tribu.
Ils cherchent dans le désert, ils cherchent dans l'illusion, ils cherchent loin d'eux et surtout loin d'Elle, loin de force femelle qui pourtant les traques en quête de sels.
Pertinente est la propagande.
La solitude est soie,
Propre à bâtir un toit,
Toile des vous dévoilés
De la viole des toiles,
Mais qu'importe,
Tous les héros solitaires et traumatophiles de l'occident cherchent une tribu...

Yummy Moon

Fourteen Ego Maniacs part 1

It would be like a dance 
Maintain this distance 
Where everything is created 
In cryptic 
In spells 
Weaving translucent mesh 
Soft to the ligaments 
So resist 
Praying for the Resilience of Refusal 
And so Certify the shelter 
Certify the cloud

Certify The Cloud

Je suis décivilisation 
Je suis l'ensauvagement
Je suis renarde dans votre Eden
Je suis la loi du ventre
Je suis ces invincibles amarantes
Je suis chasseresse de chasseurs
Je suis tétanisation
Je suis alors fulgurance rebelle
Je suis une murmuration féerique à l'heure dorée.
Je suis endêvée par votre passivité
Je suis l'improbable qui te guette
Je suis ainsi l'assise substantielle
Je suis mycorhizes 
Je suis ces sentiers prompts à vous faire saliver
Je suis la spirale de fuites
Je suis aussi incendie désiré
Je suis violette tel l'aconit 
Je suis sagesse car sans sang
Je suis l'évolution par tous ignorée
Je suis la badass à la hache et au cœur de glace
Je suis syntropie
Je suis notre sourire stellaire

Decivilization

Donald Stabler, a truly Brilliant Poet and proprietor at "oxtraces poetry", so generously allowed me to use his words for my Maniacally Rash guitar and synth production--if you happen to read this poem, you will see just how wonderful this work is, and if you visit Donald's site, You will find many more 
equally interesting and amazing works-- I am completely blown away by his poems and poetry Productions!

Post Card. By Donald Stabler

Ox and goose in a field the agoraphob doxy slump gum mid chaw chating scared senseless as strange appearance appears in points of view, gots a receiver. She blows up the skyline and the vision's caress is captured deep inside. But damn it the clouds are blinders: the Ox sees ultra radiance in upheaval scratches with snatches its contact on eyeballs. The Goose scratches elsewhere. Addiction sponge a quarter the holiday's in France drop a line from Eiffel carry the trifle to cock the rifle. There's drips of whimsy from beyond the ceiling on such a cloudy day. The Ox stays pale rider he stays calm abider. The eats are verdant pig ambrosia clover the weeds move sideways. The Goose noses its pick and lick and lies and squints his bona-fide eye. Up in the sky puppeteer sighs and cries, "These frolicking dummies fooling the tom it's a comedy of stumbles, trip wire's and fumbles as the ass cap swings on an alternate gate!" Feels just right eh. Knock the rock pace the dock up night clock, the Ox Goose and Cock. There's a trio you see in this field of glee. The Ox sleeps his head in the bush of his dullness and Kush his suggestion is so frank. The Goose pokes his snoz into gifts from Clause imagination's priest he's illusive geese. Then the Cock in his rubber frock pickin and eatin eve and eden's cretin. compact bullroar is this it I want more. Could there be four. She crocks that dial and a tear and a smile of surrender hits its gender the collection fosters remembrance. Darkness is a velvet actress mother before time the void sublime. She turns the sun and moon and in a velvet flux she devours and flowers the ever radical frost of time. The Ox, the Goose, the Cock a fleshy flock as the mock appropriation crouches in birthing affirmation.
The post card is cordial prayer someone's there astral fare. Now you see it now you don't the dream is only loant you see.

Fourteen Ego Maniacs-part ll ( "Post Card"  A poem written by Donald Stabler of Oxtraces Poetry)

Sproing.

M.A.B
Music And Biophilia

Invokation with light language

MESTRE

INTANGIBLE

Caveat: I explicitly prohibit the use of any material I post for purposes of torture, brainwashing, hypnosis, bedazzlement or any other nefarious activity. This prohibition applies to all governments, corporations, institutions, agencies and individuals. 

“The avant garde is dead. That is its triumph. Let it lie.” - Chris Cutler in “Not As We Choose: Music, Memory and Technology”. (Highly recommended!)

“… there is increasingly less call to exercise an already too rare generosity of aesthetic hospitality.” - Chris Cutler

" Music is one of the great Mysteries. It gives life. It is not a career, nor a business, nor a craft. It is a gift... and a great responsibility. Because one can never know where the creative spark comes from or why it exists, it must be treasured as a Mystery. For the most part I believe creativity chooses you, not the other way around." - John Zorn (excerpt from the liner notes to 'Magick')

“Listen as if you were being told a secret” - Federico Fellini

“Experimental and electronic music was once not-so-benignly tolerated at the margins of western art music, but it has over the last decade or so moved toward a central position as something of the soundtrack of our digital culture. Where it once was merely tolerated it is now more engaged and doesn’t have to apologize to anyone”.  - Douglas Kahn 

"Through technology, voices are amplified and silence is broken. Spaces are shared." – Laurie Anderson

"I frequently hear music in the heart of noise." - George Gershwin

"'Tis an ill wind that blows no minds." - 
Malaclypse the Younger in 'Principia Discordia'

“Let us cross a great modern capital with our ears more alert than our eyes and we will get enjoyment from distinguishing the eddying of water, air and gas in metal pipes, the grumbling noises that breathe and pulse with indisputable animility, the palpitation of waves, the coming and going of pistons, the howl of mechanical saws, the jolting of the tram on its rails, the cracking of whips, the flapping of curtains and flags. We enjoy creating mental orchestrations of crashing down of metal shop blinds, slamming doors, the hubbub and shuffle of crowds, the variety of din from the stations, railways, iron foundries, spinning mills, printing works, electric power stations and underground railways.” — Luigi Russolo in 'The Art of Noises' (L'arte dei Rumori)

Urban Dictionary (https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Mesmo)
(New Norberian English)

1. lit. in a state of mesmerism, hypnotism; in a trance
2. in a state of bewilderment or confusion, daydreaming; 'out of it'
3. mind bogglingly awesome, spellbinding, captivating

(1) "He swung that watch in front of her face and she got all mesmo"
(2) "When the teacher called me to the board I had just woken up and was still pretty mesmo"
(3) "The new N64 cartridge is totally mesmo, bro”

Vimulent

mesmo

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Hypnonaut

Petrus Major

noxpox (page 6)

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