A lucid dream.

A lucid dream

My pen that wasn’t working just rolled of the table falling onto the floor. So I dived. To slow to catch it I ended up swinging under the table into synchronicity a plastic spoon a reminder of what I wrote last night under the stars, out of the attic window grows the tallest tree, whispers in dreams.
I picked up the lost pen noticing that a tea party had been and gone all that was left were two brown wraps of sugar with nothing left in them. I checked. Be true to your real self these words echoed in my mind from last night turning my head to look above at the other side of the table the dark side of this moon, be true to the real self Kimmy said I had no ego. Did I lick that piece of chewing gum?

Out of gloopy milk I hadn’t eaten today.

It was tight catching this train but not as tight as last week did my chatting of a man in a white suit running in India fall on death ears. I can’t be sure but today India struck again, a lost Bengali cat nearly got in my way, which just made me recall

Missing cat what is her name
I guess to me there all the same
Pretty as stars which hide in trees
Going lost its pretty easy.

I’m on a mission right now to record the time, ten past eight there’s a lot of talk circling round babbling like a brook blossoming about a change a change that is soon to come a change that has in fact already begun. Bob Dylan sang the times they are a changing that was before today, which is now.

Away we go on the tracks its spring its really spring as if I’d forgotten all about spring the sky is blue and there’s not a cloud in the sky which makes me laugh inside, synchronicity it’s going to be a sperdoinkell day.

Sperdoinkell! Goodbye silver spoons I’ve decided to leave you behind the idea is a journey across over and beyond the line no more treading the shallow waters of reality it’s high time high tide to test this world dive head first into the sea.

Once upon a time there was this boy who ran away to a beach.

Where does this journey begin on a train I’m not so sure, in my mind, in your mind, our minds, or way back when, I guess for me the explosion that gave my feet new direction happened in the spring of this year ten past eight of course I’m a believer in uncertainty and well everything so I can’t be sure.
Funny word that sure. sea shore sandy beaches sparkling waves golden sun naked bodies telephone surveys fake voice more questions more, faux posh ladies repeating like parrots sure sure sure, paradise? Find me.

Before the spring of ten past eight the stars and moon began to shine just a little bit brighter. A close friend of mine teleported himself to my utter amazement and his total disbelief and I decided I was in fact a figment of your imagination. Even though apparently at a drunk meeting in the Robin Hood pub Guildford where I met the girl who I was to...

Tits!
Basingstoke.

I couldn’t remember that meeting, my shirt was covered in stains, a giant jug of Guinness
“can I really drink that”
“its yours mate”
“well hats off to you done well mate proper sorted”
I wasn’t even wearing a hat.
A pint of rum and coke
Rum in a little glass
Smoke!
The next day a message arrived,

You exist!

Really? If I have no memory how can this be?

Still I fell in love with a girl called Kate the weekend after.

When quaking ducks wearing moustaches where spotted in Ealing town.

Talking fox Orange spots.

It was after the funeral of Uncle Les where everyone laughed a lot, I remember chatting to Mick, moustached Mick about the calypso music being played as we walked in,
“corr this music’s good it’s like being in a tropical bar”
“Yeah it is”
“be nice to have a drink”

Dr Martin Mushroom Snow Shoes steps in Pure white shoes of shiny light warm to funerals born to celebrate life –.

So off to Ealing with a fake moustache glued onto my face by a plaster and cellotape, black pen running low due to being rubbed back and forth on the U cut out of a cereal box.

Coco pops

A pair of aviator shades a strawberry hat a funeral suit cufflinks of truth and justice attached our lady of the scales weighing up my shirt sleeves. Charlie Chaplin strutted his meeting people for the first time or in a long time disguise.
Time for a cigarette then next train.
Oxford is calling.
Is my phone switched on back in Babylon.

Shit my boots it’s the shoes for miles maybe it’s the shoes boots boots.

1215 the holy Buddhist book is written

Afternoon

Eastleigh
Bournemouth

the bus covered in stars pulled up, moved on.

Second bus blocking the sun hey wait its saving me from cancer another zero not my hero smashing pumpkins beautiful bodies, hips legs red lips heading to the trains a Rasta was on this bus with a jewel coloured bowl
As I strike a match to smoke my roll a woman’s voice cries

“This is a nightmare”

There was I thinking this to be a dream, this rolls going to need another match
Third time’s the charm my tobacco spit hits the floor with a splash bus gone roll up bare legs say hello to the sun.
Eighteen people got off this but was there a Rasta among them no dreads only bald heads. Trippy colours on the wall make me think this dream is beautiful painted by Emma in seven eighty seven, I’ve sat here before. Right in front of the sun unzipped, I forgot my T-shirt so its bare chest under two jackets lapping up the light.

The other week I was called a chav that was Annie four weeks before Katie said
“You’re such a hippie”
So it’s true you can be anything you want to be,
Due to the volcanic ash from Iceland, U.K planes are grounded looks like I’m not going to be flying anywhere today, not by plane anyway.
I think the last time I was in Oxford white lines of cocaine took my mind up up and away, the skies still blue no clouds of white to call out the child inside I remember looking up through the window just the other day when streams of white and my music got me so happy that I waved to a far away plane waving to the passengers flying away.

Once upon a time there was this girl that...

Ring ring
“Briggsy! You little monkey”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in Basingstoke”
“Are you still on for half one”
“Yeah I’m still on for half one”
“alright well come meet you”
“You heading to a pub ill meet you there
“alright we’ll let you know”
Ahh heres my train now I am a child waving to screens, planes, children on busses and now the sun pen down for a moment, eyes up. Wave.
Zippp!

Don’t know whose these bags are they could be mine now. Synchronicity my mate Adam who I’m going to see said to me I’d love to find one day a bag full of money made me reply head onto a train mate there’s plenty of bags to pick and choose from take any of these

“Whoa hey mines got a laptop in it”.

Don’t worry I’m just saying I’m not really going to take your bag, if you please Mr. Customs man.

“Your face is really starting to piss me off”
“In a nice way”
“Yeah in a nice way, are you writing that down”
“Yeah I’m writing that down”

Quote your face is really starting to piss me off... in a nice way Unquote

It’s a beginning of a new mission the people I’ve been hanging around with talk of this change twelve past eight so I’ve decided to tip toe through the tulips document these times as a boat crashes into the river were off together, somewhere, I think I'm steering us the wrong way.

Losing bits of tree sunglass peddlers steering us into stones, splashes on my chest I convinced myself. There’s no need to react. There’s water everywhere in the danger zone, inks running of the page, ten minutes there’s no need to react. Break through the trees there nearly broke anyway like the glue.
Brigadier general’s not as good as I thought aww man I’m covered in this shit

“Id do better if I was stoned”

Flapping leafs of mud just crept into the boat even more water splashes, splashing like cats out of bags straight for that fucker I’m getting wet back into the sunshine raining sunshine my hands covered in mud like an explosion from a whore what’s that noise squeaking timber are we on a river afloat is that the sunshine dancing through the rain, like the rain its dropping up floating to the skies still blue no clouds.

A mix of age’s one girl only as old as four world cups, another guy Jake growing his hair into dreadlocks,

“Been a long week”
“Really a long week”

I think I knew what Jake meant

“But not in a good way”

Yesterday to me seems like a hundred years ago I like that, I also like these connections on a train,
“Your face really rings a bell”
Ok chance maybe just a familiar look but right back at Jake
“I was just thinking that”

Two strangers thinking the same riding on a train together that means that they’ve surely met in this life before. Maybe there not so strange after all.
“I know your face but no it’s lost I’ll never get your name”

Well not if you don’t ask. I’m off to Mexico to the Temples to see what’s going down reporting on mass change, full steam ahead Mr Bastard

Were about to be hit by a boat oh no there’s fucking rowers man helicopters sea bees this is the danger zone Vietnam American aviators row boys row.
Splash wetter and wetter. Wow today’s been a good ride on the train, good ride all round English guy met an American girl gave away a scarf

“Is that boodoo over there?”

Splash I’ve just been shot in the chest I’m bleeding

“Let’s catch up boodoo”

Boydie just ahead row boys row this is fucked up its all good I’m putting that in oars in the water.

Gave away a scarf for a bell.
Two team pro’s coming right for us bring bring bike bells dirt scramble shall we just give up. Never! This suns the draw of the oar and bullets spla...

And she has a swimming pool too invited me to the U.S.A real soon, id never heard of synchronicity being like a new man herding medicine to society.
Sssh flapping geese John Peel just rode past us on the river what a peach.
Some guys just bailed poor guy’s deathing out phone, pills pills ring!

Awake sweet sunshine the bullets have stopped. Sit up. Breathe it’s ok this is a river in Oxford the peaceful Thames.

Are we about to pick up a hitchhiker out the river, nope. This guys seems to be ok on his own.

No wait the bobbing apple speaks.
Hello. Do I want to flip up the boat well I was quite enjoying chatting to a floating head bobbing in the river.
Over it goes.
Whey! It’s a no drowning in the river day.

We flipped up the boat sunlit circle pen, only thing was he couldn’t get back in the boat would only flip up again.

Monkeys! Monkeys!
The sound carrying through the jungle, just hit him over the head with the oar, hit him over the head with the oar, just hit him over the head with your oar bugel trumpet blows good buzzing stone, floating heads left his boat now never to return...

A group of four sitting before one of them was playing working playing with a black hat from leg to head another shouting hit him over the head with the oar, before a chicken that tried to run away was caught neck sliced sacrifice my first thoughts poor chicken silly girl second thoughts it’s just another slice of day. Or maybe let the sunshine trumpet play. Sitting in front of the fire with my back to love. Lay lay lay. Lines. Rushing. Buzzing. Feel it in the lay lines man.

Glasgow’s got a bad reputation this is just fucking stupid lighting struck on BRC 3 wow the sitting emo’s haven’t moved. I like that, I can’t believe we saved the day, one night id sit with them watch it set, never seen a punt like this before. A yo-yo kid and a Goth to boost.

These rowers need fucking mirrors man, they need to get with the programme, what were you going to do just sit in the middle of the river doing nothing till I smashed into the back of you,

Maybe,

Only thing was there never was a smash. I was looking forward to the smash. It would have been an experience. Fresh Kid. Would you still race on mushrooms? Maybe. I kind of like that. Like a tree growing out of the head of a blue man leaning upon its back in a shirt, blue sky feet in the air, it was going so well ten past eight. It still is relax breathe.

Lovers cuddle talk hands touching skin.

Why race at all? Hey? Why do you own divine right to race in your row boat upon the river? Is the river yours? Is the river mine? No. Maybe we shouldn’t be in the river at all? Or maybe we should just float? The river law. The river code. Pass right this boat. Did you make your law river or were your shackles thrown in by man. What were you going to do nothing until i smashed into the back of you! Yes. Sweet nothing. Smash away. Let it flow. The river gently came to me. Let it flow. Speaking words of wisdom. Let it flow let it be. Jai guru deva om.

The blue gondolier is following us, or is it, maybe it’s in front.
How long will this blue gondolier follow me? The silver haired gondolier with a knife.

I wouldn’t go to Glasgow you’ll get stabbed. These places with bad names I find there all the same nothing to worry about. I don’t get where the band name comes from in the first place. Be careful in Saint Pauls it’s a rough area, a rough area named after a Saint, I’ll be the same thank you wherever I go otherwise what’s the point of still being alive, either live the same or die, leave a cruel world behind. So its destination black swan.

Brizzy Wizzy let’s get busy.

Evolutionists suggest we evolved from the monkeys, I'm a believer. We evolved from the Beatles and the Monkeys evolved from the Beatles. Gold fish are nibbling.

Hello sunshine
“I’m looking for a place called the black swan have you heard of it”
“You’re not from around here are you?”
“No I’m not, Ok better get off”
Which means I need to quickly pop into the back room and collect up the monkey skittles put them back in their box, floating past trees beautifully coloured by the sunlight, I see the sun as an artist with the most beautiful palette on which to paint this world,
“What time is it?”

Folk time music stirring in the air Spring ten past eight Saturday 17th April the trees painted pink by the sun have never looked more beautiful.

It’s remarkable what you can decide to pack for your travels, pins blue skin what I’m talking about is fuss and panic a lack of adventure a mistrust in the world surrounds abounds.
A hub-bub a boob which university are you going to go to panic panic panic, all around it doesn’t have to be this way just ask the prettiest girl to pick three place names out of a hat relax relax relax.
Same with going somewhere. Can you believe a head heading out on a mushroom trip could want, need, one with nature what happened to one love one heart
“Are you not taking a bag?”
Hell no. A bag would drag me down but what about all the things well need. In this instance were only going outside for a few hours even if we stay until sunrise or next week a trip, all we need is our eyes and everything else all around or bound anything else is dead weight I mean bags not people.
People your love is people like contrast love contrast, black and white helps to keep the trip alive.
What about water, water! Fuck water, for a few hours I’m slipping out under the stars, I can drink all the water I want when I get back and skipping to the future, a bottle of rum makes for more than water.

The 13th floor elevator. Electrical banana. Is a sudden craze.
Help yourself to a slice of day its alright its safe to eat its been kept in the freezer. Put it in the microwave. Thaw it out. Ping! Spring.

Dr Martin Mushroom Snow Shoes. Performs his tricks on Saturday at Yipee Yippee Callay.

Roll up roll up for the brain rain parade.

At half past tea I decide it’s time to get another watch tattoo on my wrist.

Monsoon meltdown.
Rain drops drip
Smoke Tea Sip.
Exhale.
Rain drops drip
Smoke tea sip.
Exhale.
Run Sun train.
Rain train rain.


Why worry? Just head out into the night. See the spiders eyes in the night sky I lions face shining down through the stars realise.

Be the change, saying hello morning afternoon to the people i meet upon the street is the change I want to be, people happy to spend time chatting of course not everyone wants the same that's ok, and still I don't say hello to everyone, like if they dont look my way, or if there have plugged ears, a friend suggested i carry a sign, hello. How about. Shine. I've grown to love this world for its faults and its charm at least I say I have, which I will continue to say, until I die, whether I believe that or not, I honestly do not know, just woke up out of a dream where I was happy, very happy, to be the snake, eat this apple and out of love i will keep saying hello, even if you might prefer me not too, for that only you will know, I do it out of love not harm, that is why. Dirty word. Now you know why I say hello hello hello hello hello cheerio don't say goodbye.

Music

“Here I go and I don't know why
I spin so ceaselessy
Could it be
Hes taking over me
I'm dancing barefoot heading for a spin
Some strange music drags me in
Makes me come up like some heroin”
Dancing Barefoot - Patti Smith

I leave the bearded man at the bar and explain im gone but not before collecting the monkey skittles.
Whats in the box?
A smiling curious couple ask.

What's in the box?

ill tell you what's in the box monkey skittles are in the box
monkey skittles
what are monkey skittles?
Let me show you

And in a box not far from the train in Bristol i open up an old wooden small treasure chest to reveal, some monkeys carved out of wood, wearing polka dot trousers in colours of blue green red and orange, yellow spots, red ears, beady eyes, fixed smiling faces and a ball or two stripy wooden balls, I think maybe only one could fit in the chest, which two monkeys got left behind, is it the same monkeys every time?
Wow a gasp. Fireworks popping in the sky, take the box down to the floor where i crouch like a many armed man from a Japenese film instead of crafting dust mites I draw from out the box right hand left hand right arm left arm
Monkey after monkey,
"hit him over the head with the oar!"
Concioulsy gone to the reckless charm of being free I line them up in a pyramid upon the pubs wooden floor, then springing up box in the crook of my elbow ball in hand I stand and walk strut back to the couple
Monkey Skittles!
I present them with the ball and leave them with a spring to roll

i head to the bar to ask the bearded man sat on the stool if he knows where i can find the Black Swan
“Your not from round here are you”
No im not, i reply and laugh right now im in the moon and stars.

Walking to Saint Pauls a man on the bus gives me five pounds to help me on my way – all you need is love at the black swan I see nice shiny shoes as the men in the back play dominoes
nice shoes
no reply
foolish, i spend most of what little money i have on drink, which means when i head to the night downstairs im short to get in
my tales of travling with no money all the way to Sheffield from Bristol the other way round dont go down so well, well not with the guy the girl smiles, at this moment in time im a long haired voodoo child, hear to hook up in Bristol with a friend i done well to make it all the way to the Black Swan St Pauls monkey skittles in the box
“you should have money then”
Alas i spent it on drink at the bar
Still i had to go in even if it meant selling pink invisible squirrels in the street
I had the reverend's Alice in Wonderland with me in a bag so i took it out and headed to the streets of Saint Pauls where i greeted the people in the street to see if they would help out a guy who was five pounds short and needed to get into the downstairs of the Black Swan

You shouldn’t be going up to people in the street and asking them if they want to buy your Alice in Wonderland

Shouldn’t i
Why?

Alice in Wonderland got sold last night lewis carol changed my life

Sleeping rough the next day listening to music in a cave.

Twelve past eight Japan the dragon’s den little tiny remote control JCB’S to collect the pooper scoop from dog’s ferrying it to be used as fertiliser for all the flower’s grass or plants in the local park.

Back on the train the bikes storage windows is like floating in a ship, here is steeped in other world, were on a spaceship the midnight express.

I thought that was just a dream...

Trippy locks in these cmons parbils to another time I number 23 indian man with long grey beard stranded outside a locked door no way inside out of order, what is it he was searching for a pen. Joyous freedom breaks forth able to write again number twenty three how many pens have gone where are they now must of the worlds are becoming smudged upon my hand as Charlie says drums i write like a spider on acid bristling a twisted cobweb at the centre of which is twelve past eight the first thread thats what this journey will reveal spring.

John we got a mad one here the machine took his ticket then nothing. Come on, run run run little man, the train waits for nobody.

Bow down to the robotic toilet. Ohayo! Britain is too tight to react to that, thats what i think twelve past eight will bring a revolution in robotic toilets, people bowing down to the machine.

Goose layed a golden egg.

Talking about death from the roof of a shed in the sunrise morning.

Explaining that in my mind whilst talking weeks before in London about the way i see the universe it makes sense for their to be something anything that will come after i mean whos to say that this is it one shot one chance one life. I dont get that, I get that in this world surely we cannot be certain of anything, tomorrow may be the day when our entire world is eaten by a giant fish or not, will we ever get to know that day or will we just get eaten?

Many world’s many lifes, maybe, but nothing, well true possible but i dont think so, life than nothing yes in which case why spend your time be the change you want see to me that makes for a lunatic way unless this is not the only shot fired from the gun longshot many worlds so much to be.
Nothing sweet nothing.

I think its strange that its taboo to talk or think about death said the voice of adam from beneath the roof of the shed i do too i agreed
Sharing notes shed some light on more instances of change the contrast of the seasons spinning out through time the four shields not created or something id ever seen but again synchronicity reared its star beamed head at a ten past eight

Summer, winter, spring, autumn
North, South, East, West,

The reflection awakening spriritual journey mushroom snow shoes in the ice realising how to write about the road.

When trees are electric and branches hang.
On the street at night its magic land.

Thawing out realisations inside of me love awakening, frozen frozen in the winter numb lips, loving outside, , its been a long hard winter so help yourself to a slice of day well for some maybe not for me it seemed to be a winter in nine past eight of magical discovery, the years are ticking down not growing up.

?yllaer ...nwod ton pu worg

Fresh kid born on Ghetto Street

Back at emmas wall its seven eighty seven the colours are all swimming into the bright circle of the sun spires above the sanded doves. Fire patterns. Blossoming wall of light colours flying into out of space 15x3. Tiles. The face awakes. Speaking birds giant mirror eyes.
The next train arrives.

Skipping people heading down the stairs I step onto again what seems like another world outside a boy caught twice under a spiders web and the face that rings a bell gives me an eerie sense of de ja vu.

Fresh kids welcome to de ja vu
These are the streets that belong to you.

Is this lady going to get out of the way no what a train filling floor i love it send me to the dirt hunkered down quick soap thats it im safe worry not about you all me its sleepy sundance train.

174 heads on this train makes me wonder how many 1 2 3 4 maybe just the driver.

What was in that green bottle i just drunk, yawning to the moon so many different shoes, different worlds, faro different its a racing thought that spring ten past eight hasnt gifted me magic eyes but the question goes away of course theres more than four heads upon this train, every single world a different character, strips socks the artist drawing headphone mike the readers, sleepers hidden faces, hood wearers, rasta’s in Jamaican colours, every one a different light shiny shiny stars, ride on electricity

Magic eyes, clever ears walking down the whole train girl had to move her legs three times it appears to this mind that theres only two just chats going on in this whole train, that means only two instances of connection world’s collide. Smash. What were you going to do sit there doing nothing, maybe. The chat from in front seems to be tested water known but still words from out of mouths flow back and forth making a rubbing nose a good talk, sharing each others thoughts, scratching faces, folded arms

One boat did nothing, the other shouted insults, threatening for a fight, one boat stayed behind, the one in front shouting just kept rowing further and further away.

Now the chat from back behind.

Is this new or just a first meeting of worlds collide, hello smash, a bottle of tanglefoot big guy meets gypsy girl on the train and this talk is a table top dive a fire flying across the the forest sky its quick its fast no pause to scratch more flickering lights into action two worlds in beautiful collide quick quick words speak, smiles, share him and her again,
Agreeing
yes yes
me too me too, fantastic worlds with similarity buzzing could be a beginning of a new journey will it be a romance tragedy or comedy. Read it feel it in the lay lines. Or maybe. Maybe. Nothing. No, hello. Something new. Never seen before. Fresh kids Walking the streets of De ja vu in electric city.
Once upon a time...
You are real
aye am real
Brazil.
om