i did

want to be a secret agent, and a hacker at some point...but somewhere along the way i lost my adventurous side and settled for snapping gnarly pictures once for e'ry blue car, writing songs for girls, hating stale donuts, and days of cleanliness. No, no not really...we will never be clean.

If ever we reached some state of sanitary subsistence we will have simultaneously lost freedom–the only state guaranteed to us by nature, and which has been steadily under siege since the beginning of the rape of earth–agriculture–by our own self-exalted brethren (arrogant bastards).

Breathe some and step right on up to the plate, cause if you're around today this is your scene, your canvas, your chinese jute, your paper and the life line of life, let's make the air fresh again. fuck the police.

1 MB = a dozen flowers

2 Beautiful eyes = scruffy brown curls

[ALSO fuck Webster's, Oxford, Harrap, Duden, Vox, Al-Mawrid, etc.]

your local SW.

Feeling like a number one ~

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BshxCIjNEjY

nasty bass !

"space wanderin yam loving free jazz playing dweeb motherfuckin oh man im spacin' ........ "

In the zone

After returning to the zone, early on mon's day, the horizon looks a blazing fresh haze of green. I like green, and it fills me with love and all those goodie rip your hair out feelings and ideas. So it seems, I've decided to begin sharing again...spreadin' the grooves of the mighty Space Wandering waves, up the punx?

yes. SO here's to an awesome era of sifting bygones and acid humour..

your local SW.

no title

unfurl the curls in your heart

we can talk

or if you want

we'll not

But see me again

or i'll forget

yet there's still time to invent

some trip

or a flip of the hand

to show us off the land

in the desert or on the moon

i see you

umpher

Screaming/spilling

his pain out on the

road

What a story

a curse on his glory

everything turns to shame

and he feels the

same

lies to lie

on the sea he feels

will sweep the

pain beneath him.

He dives in and swims

through vibrations

of my steel strings

hoping what he hears

is his angel that sings

and swings beneath

the storm to drag him

up to the misery so

familiar to that song

He sees his wife in the air

and looks at his life and dares

to grab the cross and smash free

from his pain

He is free to breathe his fear away

                  to cut his hair with his teeth again

back home he comes

to set his clouds to darkness

from his heart removes the softness

And saves his last breath for Revenge

My Friend

Hello?

Oh hey

you know what happens

I get lost in the silence

ya..

Your voice stops

and I drift back,

into my dreams

I've been waiting

for something, I

don't know what,

to wake me up

That question, yes,

it comes back with no

answer on the side it

slides silently sneering

to its oblivious place

of mess

It's a test

I must find my place

to play free and

enjoy my rest.

...

My Place

where do I go when

I play

where do I go when

I write

besides the realm of

Your listening

Deep in my head

way past that cloud

and the open sea

where i see you

and you see me

beyond there and

everywhere

I can see me

and be the king

I want to be, inside

my head

there beneath the

Sky

in the shadow of

The Leaves

in a

Summer Bloom

I will grow green

And fly to be seen

in my ship of steam

and light.