In the Blowing Wind of Alblackica Mornings Playing the Rhythmic Consciousness of a New Race

In the Blowing Wind of Alblackica Mornings Playing the Rhythmic Consciousness of a New Race

Consciousness-Analogue

I am the daydream–realist fiddler of dreams anointed by the earth savage petals of the Nestrat in the shadows of the dark-tanned colors of a morning rose; where you go with your backpacks in the hills on the green tumbling sides of the river falling like a sparrow in the cloud adjacent square leg of the sun; milieu comes after strong coffee beans are roasted and puffed with smoky-frills of an overdose evening, writing its songs in fair elegance for the temple of the lord in the Baquytra reptilian winter at the garden of Vasundhara; no man returns free till he listens to the call of the crow-chant mind of the desert from the dead paradise of the northern lights, waking with the Himalayan Rhododendrons in the sweet tarmac of a living pool; I am born only not to sing with my feet on the grass knocking predominantly on the heaven’s door for an answer, but to let it slam bang against the silent cloud of a million birds, to open it to the deeper chambers of the neolithic man (the man-within to the man-without) so he can drink from the flowing quatrains of the shark in the tooth-eyed eagle of a resurrected spring; the dogs are sleeping tonight in the heydays of Roberto Rossellini and the cats have gone back to their blackberry homes along the pathways of the rainfall light ;

Roger Mcnamara was waiting for me to take him away farther into that blaze of the unblinded darkness where nothing prevailed only but the Alblackica dawn in the gnomic receptacle of Savitri-mawa-Savitri; I don’t know I had a sensation my hands clutched the wheel on the highway to the stars; the time has come to blow in the wind with the purple pleasant peregrine and in the wing chaffed vision of the red-wood tree, the river knows the way, the river knows the way.

-Joy Roy Choudhury

Ref: Bob Dylan Photograph

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Retailing of the Creation in the Nevra Prime Matter of the Self: Monet’s Windows are the Clopen Pyramids of the Alblackica

Alblackica Plate II, Samij Datta, 2012

Retailing of the Creation in the Nevra Prime Matter of the Self: Monet’s Windows are the Clopen Pyramids of the Alblackica

Consciousness-Analogue

Withdraw the outer being into the cantor cube

The half length is the zebra prime matter of the nexus

That binds creation to its origin of origins

The self is the red earth of the self the leaf’s swollen with the river song

It has in it the elements of akik- the power beyond everything that stands today

Don’t you see the eyes are the ears of the sky’s cross-legged bow?

The rainbow is the doctrine of the word’s alblackica

Alpha beta zeta are the tulips of the ancient Mercedes

They cover almost every distance like the starlight does

Flex of the sun’s inhabitants are razor sharp on the moon’s elbow

Every truth is a bit of falsehood and falsehood amalgamates the paradox

What do you owe to this ant race of the earth? What hands pick up the lightning rod?

Shivering in the snowy peaks the caves dug tunnels into the core

The fire is the spirit of the monolithic stone, water the empty vessel of the mirror

Moatat Straz Struhedh Yayastat, Moatat Straz Struhedh Yayastat

Heraclitus on a paper’s right sector north-east turning and turning the wheel

The sweet music of the Philomela is the left concord of the unravishing blindness

From which comes the lonely surrender of the non-Euclidean tool

Walking and walking and walking beyond the Supermind of all planes

Into the Razder, Ionicixa and Vaxuta plates – there is more freedom than explained by them

They taught the lips bound by the chains – the light almost fell into the black veil of the sun

What good is sorrow if you tear the lid with a broken arrow, hit the tower with the flood

Then the language will learn the lessons of its time the geodesy will change

Plato in the Habber-Brahman, the Zabber is the time that changes with itself

It calls out to the runic leptohan cause the Avra Moatat Straz Struhedh Yayastat.

– Joy Roy Choudhury

Reference: The Dark Side of the Moon/Album Cover Art, Pink Floyd