Wednesday, 19 November 2008

The Book of Bok

A Time of no Time

There was a thunder in the aluminium sky where we saw the form of the dumbell cast great creeping circles slant shape-shifting with our movement.
The mantle of the brain was cleft and miserable eyes poured their envy on those aboard the Narganaut, who, absurd to all possibilities drewe close those who would dive into the mouth of a Gorgon.
Souls of old clung aboard their raft of sound, graciously weaving their song to sustain their passage through this broken mind.
For it was the Time of no Time when clocks go neither forward or backwards.

Opon the prow leans a figure, gaunt and ragged and murmers some incantation, perhaps a blues, and lightening shapes expand, so in this flash, the others aboard this Narganaut, a vagabond crew of celebrants are visible.
It is in raging dark we flourish or a bright invisibility, so swift as a slug to find the vein of sorrow within the life. And our ship of sound will travel wheresoever it will and cast a line to all who would, if they would, and so would I and so could you.
Grasping this crystal craft of the love to sadness within life, we grapple now to convey bright invisible love to all you readers and would the Narganaut's love travel with you and join us there.

Television Eye

So cold were these arms at once time, we contrived to get together and plot a course.
Where to go?

In worlds torn apart we see television eye and take it. It's power is extreem, cathode ray control.
And we were cold at this notion and so joined arms.
What to do?

To hang suggestions on the sky, worry not of how or why and weave an invisible antidote to television contort control.
And though this is wax poetical, who does hear these ravelations, for know whose Mother's call.
Know you, know you- everything.

And the Celebrants proclaim there is no God who can stand the force of our shattered intellect.
For we bring the Time of no Time where dwells the Gorgon; and on our craft we will sail, projected by our minds. And who will say not!
And whose will is not altered by art, our invisible ally. And who will weave this ravelation?
"Why I" cried a collection. "I." The voices again.

And whose voices were they? It was that ragged crew aboard their sonic boat. And their noise was.
And they aimed a ray at Television Eye and it reflected pure truth about the land.

So Television Eye of extreem control beghan to lessen it's grip and become a less miserable medium.

The Book of Bok

For there was I and my name is of Simon John, the Corn-I-Swirl the last name it is.

And for! I would say this is the Book of Bok and it be no contrivance of mine, but of Bok's instead who met me the one day opon a country stile and did leave me lead me, lent me directions poor for when it was finished I was near a peaty smelly bog and way lost. But I had been told of words by this Bok and it seemed a significant indulgence that I would write them down as a series of extended visionaries.
For they mark a passing of time of events read into enjoyment where these crew had gathered and made their Narganaut.
And Bok filled the love with his brethe which is very white as it goes. And they whisked their sea, schooled on differing methods but all humming.
And so droning and chiming the earth and sky dug the rhyme and produced mighty growth and rains.
And Bok blew his brethe in the ways we are beginning to remember and the Gorgon opened whiter and the gap between the sounds was wider.
Blessings fell from nowhere in this space and all were charged and envigorated and set about the land doing their deeds like nothing spoken and so this new millenium, long seeded, now comes to earth.
For Bok is speaking his subtlety, that all should grow from the core of the old and so round regenerating.
And so; from these words that Bok had laid opon my brain, I Simon John was well the very confused.
And yet; he had some form of vision, the very of the same moment when maybe he is staring at his big toe or perhaps after a good shyte, when he is reflective.
And it was long after the time when Bok spoke that Simon wrote down these words here. For I heard not the speaking of Bok AT THE TIME.
And yet in the meantime since that meeting, he has contrived and worked and woven and spun song. So has it been.
And through many triumphs and downcomings has he come and on the way met others of the similar experience of the up and down.
And it was of his way to tie his shoelaces together as before he was of the going out, and set off in not the way he ought to have been the going of.
And so round the round he went, and yes, DID of the meetings of others similar found.
And these were particularly of those taken to the shaking and banging types of expression.
And so they formed within the swirl of corns and became we; the crew of this Narganaut we have made, and here we sit now at the composing of our various artistries and indulgences, and are now of the celebrating the eating smoking and dreaming.

Great Our and the Hole

For in this dreaming there is a great OUR. For it is forgotten largly of the when we rode opon the golden serpent and founded cultures and peace for peoples.
And now is time for the storytellers to remember the beginnings for YO, time is stopping. The more we work , the more it stops.
And tellers of tales speke our realities, make the day We do and you cannot help but here.
And the stories sing only one song and they have come to make the day.

And Tyrant, who was the invisible television will to loose of his grip opon the people some mores.
And the time ahead hold opens more, for now a hole we percieve ahead of the travelling Narganaut, song of craft seaworthy and we crew are of the spiralling into it.
And realizing this, the people aboard did feel a great consternation of the belly, for several were holding toxins within their bodies and these did of the begin to release into the bloodstream.
This may well be the cause of the visions that followed, a collective hallucicognation aboard the ship, as it was swept by into the nothing.
Bok spoke-with-no-voice and the hole drew by and the great spiral took the craft on.
So, fearless, the horns varius were raised and blown.

And , so, eagerly, this Gorgon did of the swallowing.

And it is a terrifying fast descent, into that mouth.

And it is a metaphorical thing indeed.

The blessings accrued when Bok blew his brethe came in the very handy here, for the assembled crew knew not where they were going.
But it was very groovy because they made it so with their excellent musik.

So down we went chanting, bneating of the stretched hides and rather masterfully, smoking and playing the sacred enbolu. Of the very much.

And into the and.

This new landscape weas much the same as before, yet as is it was he then washed by the lingering psychedelic residues.
Yet it was soon plain that all was not as before. For the crew of the Narganaut had spun the world into a new expression; With a change of shift had altered workaday reality for all manner of people, but unseen, within the mind.
And fronds of Bok brethe grew into new clusters of men and women and did inspire them.
AS Bok had firstly inspired of the Narganauts {for so they and we were called} who offered his dimensions to folk who could not help but accept them.
And it was that these folk were loved to worm Hurunagg and were so Hurine, sound summoners; before unnamed but now given title by the people of the world because of their numbers.

And through many such transformations have gone the Hurine, these narganauts of the Narganaut.
And they did of the enhuruing at first in their hometowns, where the worm was known Hurnag.
And those of those did cluster round in semi circles and circles also at times and did blow of the horn of Hurunagas, or Huru, Hurunagg, Hurnag and mostly of the time a great vibration was to be heard.
And this sound allowed us in and out of our Gorgon hole, and yes, new dimensions have created!
The mantle of the brain was then split even further and the sons of the Moon cried out and also caused of the gap to get wider.
And it was with rejoicing that the Hurine debunked from their vessel and went about the towns selling their wares and playing of the horn.
And with this they wove anew! Fabrics rare were woved, most spiritual was the vapour of atoms arrangement.
How miraculous, these stories were blessing the very life. Bok's voice could not be heard, happily burbling the backgrounds.

There were those who spoke in loud voices and also those that spoke quietly and both were a living on the earth and a singing of the stars.
And neither of them made much noise, because relevent to their sound was the large throbbing of the enbolu which was of the very inciting to the spirit, it being a device of the Great Enbulos.
And Bok was pleased for his own voice did harmonise with the other dins and it was pleasing to his old self.
And Bok was generous to the land and gave many fronds a lending to cause of much greenery.
But for a while all was of the rottingness.

And of the ground did sprout much and it was of the greatly pleasing to all.

And the fronds did travel in the earth and through the ground of a coursing to where many a yew and an old cedar perchance stones were often also.
And the brethe was very of the rejuvinating.

So it spreading is over the land and bringing much exitements to the peoples thereof those places.
And they did find, as of the Narganauts also that the land did give them of the bodily rushes of power through the ventricles and passages of their bodies and so beings.
So the Nargourds looked at one another and realised that it was a shared thing.

This frondery of Bok was of great amazedment to the Hurine as they percieved of it, and then were of the letting it into their own lives (wheresof concerning the rushes) and enjoying the feeling greatly.
And of these experiences was need to express them to one another, for they were all of the cognition, but that it was with all of them, they did not know.
So those of the bright spark made up of the words and phrases to describe of the experiences.
For so, many experiences had the Narganauts had the having of by now, and it was of concern to relate to the one and the other of them, so as none of their number did freak out or feel of the left out.
For often those of the loud voice were to the freaking the out and it was nessicery to be wise to this and allow doorways to solice for their easy entering into
The enfreakment was also there for those of the softer voice, but of a different way it is, because they are sometimes the nearer to Bok's own voice that is not heard, and were of the ears the better the using.
And it was that various new languages did arrive out of some nowhere's mouth, and these will be the writing in and of when the one that is I gets the round to it.
And he is hoping that it is pleasing to those who hear or read it.


And the Narganauts found that often it was the particularly at certain places that Bok's fronds were to the giving of good rushings.
And it was of great satisfaction that they all did travel to these certain places and went to the music and dance the very much and all that goes the with it.
And they did whip it up indeed, though they were not sure what It was, but they enjoyed of the doing of the musicks in these certain places.
And the one named Clive said he would give unto his own blowing and droning stick a name, and he did borrow one of Simon John, as Simon John later did borrow one word from Clive on also different occasions, and it made the giver right happy because he named the stick well.
And it's word is Huru.

Other words were coming into the being after this time also and these will come in time and we is hoping you like the thereof.
And the words illuminated the true selves of the Narganauts which were seen now quite clearly in this light.
And one by they one these adventurers appear before my mind's eye and as time stops more I will be the describing of them also.


And when did this Narganaut set sail? When was it we meet and make of the hull, baulkheads and also the riggings? What wind powers our sail?
Well' it was of a certain time after some Gorgon hole when we had been the travelling together and of the preparing of our Narganaut. The craft was in the building stage.
Was it sound? The mast true, the rudder sure?

And it was that, sat beneath the tree in the pavilion garden not of Bok's but of those of Brightly Town.
And all did imbibe of the rotted corn and thereafter spun off down to the beach, where all of old Englund were want at sometime, to wash up.
And there of did they meet of two celebrants on the pebbles. Those met before at said Moot where the Simon John had had his birthday, where one of them was of exuberantly-out-of-his-face condition being imbibed of the ouzo and wild lettuce also.
And they had introduced already, new concepts to the Hurine, such as the making of the Hurunargine spliff.
And they were wont to cover their environments with drawings from within their bright minds, as would resemble their inner excursions.
And they were of familiar with the rotting corn, too, as stands to reason.

And their names were of Daniel and of Lewish, the being the each other as brothers to er.
And then of a time when the one who is doing the writing was of the breaking up with another of the crew and the last of romance was falling before their greater friendship began.
Then it was at this time that the one Matthew did arrive. Bestraddled with mind expotentialising concepts were he. And greatly, lately he did find it good to relate to others that were all so fractilising of the brain.
And the Simon John did mumble, and the Matthew did mutter also, and then it became the Matthew was known 'Zegthuuku' for his late arrival.

And so he did join in the clank.

Now it was the time of great meetings, for it was spoke of beforehand by the Clive, who, one day in their dwelling, which they called 'Goathole', had been of the merryment and named of the 'Nargourds.'
Simon the Corn did twiddle his mind and supposed that Nargourds must be of those that have gourds of which to rattle, and that this must be their celebration.
And so they were thought of in the minds, and soon after on the land met.

For down to old Twifor they have to have gone, and there dwelled the Nargourds, for they were in for the once and for all protecting of the land and the gathering together and summoning of the Dragon.

And met with Nargourds, the story took on a new turn, as net webs were spun, and so turned inside the out and made into real life of the waking dream for peoples.
So the Dongas Tribe wore chalk for woad and wove-warred it's dreams into the endangered Day.

And against hard foes did offer resistance like unto poetry, which was used instead of intimidation.
So the methods of wise warriors and magic makers were used to win back land from machines television eye.

For the land is in peril, and Narganauts met to tell Nargourds of the enhuru, playing of enbolu very much and the telling of the stories on special days of the year, when the certain places of Bok become certainly much of the rushes of the body making.

For the land is in peril, but Bok knows better, and as we travel more deeply, knows we can take more of his generous brethe.

So at camps of fires around in special certain places where the Hurine can guide his brethe.
So there will be change done, though it be not seen, but of the mind.

But that this a revolution extraordinary.

And Television Eye was tamed in respect to the Dragon, that Golden Serpent, who came out for the while.


Which was very much getting to the time when there was a celebration at very near but not in Brightly Town, where, gathered in sight of television eye and many other car chained peoples who would go past on the road and be able to see people partying on the land and having a visionary time and of much fun.
And the Simon John and Matthew did of the trippingly round till dawn, where dervish memories were stirred and we mazed the fields for a good hour of morning befuddlement and atonements.
And this time was known after as Hickstead, and it is to be greatly remembered for many parties came thereafter and more are to come.
For now these meetings make the hole become of the bigger, that more people be of the enhurued.
For the more be of the falling in because of it's biggness.

And the hole was of nothingness, and the hole was of our suggesting and the hole of Bok was it too.


And then it was of the Nameless One meeting it was. Who had guided him there was none for it was he came of HIS OWN.
And he was deeply examining his own hands asd of one the rotted corn imbibed sometime earlier had done so.
And indeed, I could relate to that, so came close to him.
"Who are you," I asked at some point, whereafter he told me he had no name, not of the anymore.
I asked him what was his profession and he proclaimed that he was a beggar.

So it was decided. And he named himself Woz because it was the easier to use day to day.
And he was given to the amazements, to the speaking of tongues and the useage of
found items for odd purposes-largely that purpose to aid the enhuruing.
So it is time to explain of the enhuruing-save that it is done of either nature, or of the Huru, that horn, and that Woz became soon to be the most enhurued man in our experience and beyond, and that he did sup deeply of enhurument as a liquor to lovely excesses, that were only a drop to the Nameless Beggar.
So an enhurued on is in a state of amazements, dreameries perhaps. And that it is a powerful experience.
And I am hoping that this is a bringer of pleasing-ness to the reader, who should not think strangely of such things.

So to remember, after digression and introduction of some of the crew, we remembered the Narganaut was metaphorically so constucted opon the beach at Brightly Town, from the array of out-tripped minstrellsy and artists.
The Huru was afore, while the stern was of big for the beatingly Tam-tam drum and sea the stick ocean sounding shaker, and it was Daniel and Lewish who largely played on these two.
And there was a mandyoline also, and other freakeries of percussions, bells and beaters and shakers, including the polystyrene cup of pebbles that completely enhurued the author and one other, Dawn she.
And there was incantation spoken down the horn, and the craft, of instruments and gay mats from the Sunday market most probably, sailed on through dimensions, oh yes, there on Brightly Town beach.
And people did pass and saw that this vessel was in motion.

And the one with whom the closely romantic was of the fading was also well striped, and it was good between of her and the I of me.
And the scroll of our thought lay saying "Be free", laid for hours untouched, frail paper untouched for hours in the light of our collective agreement.
That is until it was sat opon by Christos, he who was not of the rotting corn, as it was he had had enough of it in the past anyway.

So the vessel was of the really going somewhere though it moved not at all from where it was.
And people turned their heads, and a frog suited woman came and took photos and then as quickly was gone.
But it was good, and the Simon did hear the stories from of the anchient Greece, picking up the tale from the waves of the sea once more.
And he felt of a responsibility to the greater enhurument of humanity through sounds and words, yet from the ancient.
And this be one of the results of this vision, the swirling of old culture from the Hellenic places coming recently before a flood of mixtured visions opon the midst of a wave from before the West.
For, thought Simon, "there be no time- and we could make what time we want."

But the story must be to the continued, and so he, the I did feel some sort of with the responsibility, and he did like the feeling, though it did also of the frightening of him, that Simon John.

And eventually, the Narganaut sailed beyond sunset, and after dancing in the cold of that time, they jigged up and down and then went up to Twenty Three, where it was the Daniel and Lewish did live, and there they played of the Hendrix, Floyd and so forth, drew of their visions, and rolled of their Hurunagine.

******** ***********

And so it is that I have been of the describing various events to do with the sailors of th sound-choir and of some of their adventures, their worlds and words. The Narganauts in a nutshell; and now I shall be of the describing of the more of it.

And when it had been after this Moot, on the twenty eight of Simon John's birthdays that being the end of February, where Brightly Town could come and freely bee with the Narganauts, who for convenience had called themselves Goats, for sake of day to day ease.
Yes, after this moot, a meeting, communication or pot party, there was much a happening on the happening front about the area.
New friends were met and webs were netted. It was cold outside, but warm inside.
There were those that danced and those that sat those talking and those just of of it.

And a vibe was passing round oh yes, from the street where it was growing, where people were in the days, and nights also, and where these Goats whould meet other Nargourds such as the one we met of name Spyder, who is of special note, because of his definitive character.

And these vibes were an expression of the fronds of Bok and they made the Brightly Town to be shining so.

And there were meeting between these Narganaut Goats, and especially in regard to where they were of a staying at, and of the lowlife therof.
Indeed it was quickliy they got to work, and were indeed offered places in which to stay -gratis, which is for free, where the Goats found of everything they did want, which is not much, and the first of these places was the Goathole, already of the mentioned.

And one of the people they met, a good friend so it seemed at first, did the turn awfully wierd when we did question him about the spending of certain moneys for he was saying he needed more of ours for the good deeds he was a supposedly most doing us.
And he would speak of many things he had done for us but they seemed to us Goats mere foam, over ambitious, not really relevant things at all.
So we left him to his requests for money and he is there still presumably.

And greatly worthwhile on the other hoof, was the people who did live of the two doors down. For they were also of the musician type people and given to at the same time occupying their own leisures with certain enjoyable practises. And yet they found profit in it and we only loss- oh that is for money's sake- yet gained for us the exileration of the brain and the instigation of the Hurunagine.

And it would be that the Goats would go up the fashionable streets of the town, where the people were of a walking with their pockets jangling.
And the Goats put the Narganaut to sail often by the side of the road, for this was the way their living was of the making, the practical day in day bit. And from time to time, people would of the passing go, and oft would throw of their coinage which would clatter if it fell in plentitude. And when this was done, the Goats them make a smile of smiles, for then they can afford what they need.

And some days there would be alot of clatter, and some there would be of the lesser clatter, and the smiles would oft be in relation to the amount of clatter that there was.

And the Narganauts were not wont to be known as beggars, for they were not, but rather of the kind that entertains and tomfools ordinary people out of their income, but not all thought of it as that were an audience; Yet the goats generally stumbled through to what it was they were wanting and offended not of the very many.

And there efforts made of the many people to smile, old ladies to dance and young children to spiral, and all did cluster around the chiming and droning.
And many an eye did turn their way, even though the Nargourds were of their own ragged coloured weathered look, and many a hand throw did of coin jinglings.
And there was many a wink from some cute-eyed damsel, some who lingered, some who looked, some who left. And there were many that the Simon John did attempt aquaintance with.
And one would go past, of the dark eyes peering, once smiling, often passing without seeming contact.
And we came to the knowing of her, for it was she named Ambre, of later Cellestar.

The Simon John did at first approach her and invited her to the Goathole because of virtue of her fluttering eyes. She was of the willowy red-haired beauty, that much appeals to the Goats. But later of the Simon John he did of the two-timing the Ambre to another young lass and it was lucky that they remained friends.
And she did love of the Incredible String Band of whom also Simon John loved, and she played him new songs, in particular of the 'Red Hair', which much affected his psyche, indeed, made him cry.
And Ambre was subject of two songs by the admiring Goats, and much food were we indeed to be the eating of at her mother's place, where we all warmed, to the very much.

So, there, clustered loosely were those of the Narganaut about the town of Brightly, and there were of such persons here:

Clive, the old one who blows of the horn, and Christos, he who uses his tiny hammers opon the instrument with many strings which everyone asks the name of. Along with the Simon John, these three had made a music sound, along with others before who had fallen off along the wayside.

They had been in a circle of corn, on the seventeeth of the Augustine, but were not of the rotting corn, yet there unto a like to it there was.
And these crew who had been at the camp of Friar's in differing enebriations and playing the musics not the much together of, though it was fun.

And near to the by where they were living we all remember the meeting of the black haired one who we all do fancy, but whom is a crab sandwich if you get on the wrong side of her, and a velvet lovely if you are of the proper way stroking.
And she is of the inconfidence of most all about her that is distinctive, or that it is she does, but that is her way, it being she is of the young side and also that she conveys that she is older than she seems, which she is not. But she is good with the shiny clatter that folk give us, and for this, Simon John is glad, for he is not of the good with it.
And he does love her, this Ka more than he thinks he knows and she was also helpful in the undoing of certain emotional enwhorlments dangling in that tangling his life were.
And he thanks her, and she beats the drum, clacks wood and does of the singing and storytelling far better that she realises.

Of the Matthew, known Zegthuuku for his tardiness, it has been explained of the great already, but now to say his expertness of things technolunchical is greater than most of us, and he is the greatest of the cheese bringers to come sailing.

There is of the Lewish and Daniel, dandies of the corn, in their colourful array. Also Woz, our barometer of enhurument.
And not withstanding, the young Benjemin, an adamantly enhurued man of great passion and skill at the rolling and sniffing out of others pouches their own offerings to the holy enbolu. This was a skill that the Simon did both admire and appropriate.
Given also is he to the frollicking about the land and of the being confused, though he is of a more together disposition than this author.
He met me as I slept beheath a large stone at solstice, and did give of me paper to eat, so as when dawn came round it was extra colourful and potent a sunrise, and we did imagining of the earthworks of the Mother where we were, and what they could do. And this was at the place men call Avebury. But of this, later.

Now, there are others on this ship, including the one Melan, who is lying here reading of the Irish poetry.
She is of the coming into the crew and of her own origin and freedom herself, and who knows where the craft a goes. And she is sitting and a giggling to her book, and I know not really where she is a coming from.
And she was of the met at the big fayre, which Bok did lead his Goats down to, though they were none of them the particularly wanting to go.
But of this big Fayre I will also the speaking of, do in a while.

Others still have come and gone, for the Narganaut is a spinning orb which attracts and repels, some quickly, some not, some sticking, some orbitting, some curious, some irritating, all hurued.


Visionaries and madmen, and who says which which, genious and crazed, all in the same pigpen.
Bok blesses them all and like the elements of rain has thrown all of them at the Narganaut in his widom.
For the words of madmen are often true, as are the wailings of paranoics.

But it is that the Goats do of the droning more than many, and so do vibrate all thought forms, sane so called or otherwise , does embrace all different consciousnesses and wrap them all up as one and individual also, into one millsh of healing.

"The Sound, I hear a new sound" one of these did say to me and the others. And he would seem a pleasant fellow the one minute and a demon the next, especially to those of the women.
And he did hear a new sound, or had ears old, old to still be cute to the echo of the old hills and their peoples.
For the music returns, and Bok's people play it.

And I of the vision had I whilst at the Hickstead of a wanting to vomit and expell my dung, and the vision was of many peaceful celebrants, all souls coming down and unto the grooving. And as this eye had seen also on the Tor at Glastonnybery where hallooeen had made people rave to the mandyoline, and it was a new old sound and Simon the John did play it.

For the music returns, Bok and Marc Bolan
Smile in the sky
For we are their people
In that only that they instigated

And the pleasant fellow was right, though he went very much of the wierd, and the nearly of gave the Simon John a broken jaw outside the Seven-Eleven, for he was gurgling right violent my way and imitating old tribesmen shaman was he of the not very well doing. But Bok's love to him also.

And there were others, all the time!

Yet it seems now we are of the meeting of a better class of madmen so admirably ushered in by our gallant and pleasant sometimes friend. And I would give a thanks to one who indeed shares my own first name, and he being a close friend of the Melan.

And he was at the of the Pilton Festival, a full of the rantsome sounds of voice wailing rightousness and wierderies that quite honestly are of mine own bread and butter.
And he did of the attentions greatly demand of the crew of his own craft, which was of an Offshore Circus nature, not of animals, but of humanity and their absurd entertainings stimulating toi the mind and body.

And this other Simon had gone of it the somewhat and declaimed the moon from the sky and would have tied himself to the back of a moving chariot and be so dragged, if he could have had an audience.

Yet he sees very much the clearly, so it takes only a bit of the proximity to me to see, and doubly say I see the truth in such crazed eyes. It is of the obvious.
And it was of he Nile, who of the largeness was, who sat opon this new Simon, and holler to him of his OWN madness

And I thought of them the twain that they both liked of the attentions, and why the not?
Bok glorified himself above at the doings of these mind enraged citizens, and is demanding that those of the Narganaut encourage wider society in a tempered way, to be more of the madness inclined.

And that there is not word adequate of Englund for this, Melan has chosen to call of the state of a better class of madness, 'of the enhurangement'.
And why the not?

And in the past it was that the madmen would preside over the lawmaking and juristiction of the land, and it is beginning that it will be of the enhuranged that now do these things; and they will still be of the wearing of wigs in the courtrooms, but yet these hairpieces will be of the far more wicked to look opon and that these courtimen will be of the more widely read, openly, instead of privately debauched and given to the art of parley manifold insoorder to asertain whatever Truth is needed to be found. And in their courtroom it will be of the possible to hear all speak in time, and also, there will be space for the entertainments and Bok will pour his spirit essence on all that are found to have done unseeming deeds.
And the better class of madman will arise from the tangled mass of people who are not of the subtle enough to hear of Bok's voice, but for whom his vibration is becoming the impossible not to heed.
And of those of the loud voice will soon find themselves to be of the hoarse.

And dangerous scriptures that mislead of the people will burn and only those bits which were unspoken, unwritten will be of the remaining.
And where they speak of perverts, prostitutes and those of indeterminate sexuality there will be a deep and reaching understanding, leading men and women to look at their darknesses, and the need for their gropings and fornications.
And when mentioning murderers, then there shall be a very deeply reaching struggle of spirits to find some joy of life, rather than a shutting up in dark holes for the doer. And it shall be seen who are the true murderers, for there are those of the ruling madmen who get away with it en masse and by proxi for it is their profession.

And the people of Bok stood on the earth and acted of their poetry, so their words were of the doing.
And the Golden Serpent was of the arising from the land and of a bringing the land into of a new existance, which is in the present of a generating, and will go on into the new.

And the efforts of the Hurine and Nargourds was of a spreading across the land as it was of Bok's fronds, that made to life all sorts of unexpected things.
And the crew of the Narganaut had sailed into the Gorgon's mouth of a tremendous happenings, and it was so of a catalysing effect all about.
And people did notice, and these moments were of the times of year respected of old, yet recently forgotten.

And a design for a new world began to form out of a tangled confusion of warring societies, but that it seemed OUT THERE was not of the case, but rather it really was WITHIN THE MIND and that the barriers and hanged ups of the brain were of cause of the warlike problems and Bok was of the knowing all of this, and aprooved of the loosening up of the minds of his peoples.

And Bok's image dissolved again and again into the horizon, and he was of the filling of the land with his voice, which vibration would build up and up and become indomitable in it's invisibility.


And so Bok leered into the minds of the Hurine and given of them visions according to their stature in enhurument, and from these people, in their various ways sensing a new order of old returningness sighed a sigh of releif that their spirits would be allowed to fly and break the harmful shell of which had grown in the people and in their habitat.

And their habitat was the earth

And their life is in peril

And our life is the earth

And this is now, reader

And out of the several visions, those enhurued by Bok's voice vibration, did of the re-examining of their beings, and seeing and feeling that the more of this kind of thing there needed to be, set about and eventually sailed of the Narganaut, which is already of the described and a concept hopefully established in the mind, perhaps even the heart.

And the Narganaut can set sail at any place, whereever it so needed to be. For it needs not water, or roads or sky for the travelling, for it anywhay goes of the everywhere, by virtue of being what it is.

And all time and choice dwells on it's deck.

So this is all the greatly pleasing to the Simon John, who is want to join the sons and daughters of the moon, and open the mind with the singing and joyous being all the more.
For Bok knows , this is a time spoke of by seers and prophets. Where the man becomes to his own and unties his knotted brain opon this suffored earth.

And all will be of the greenness, because we say it so.

And whatever is said will be true, yet the better class of madman will be speaking the more of the softly voice.
And Bok will be of the disappearing and reappearing so people will know more of his voice,and so more carefully said are the words of these happier madmen, for they see of the effects that their words make, that there are words to mend and words to break. And that the word is powerful.

So Bok blows his brethe to the Narganauts sail.

And the Nargourds raised their gourds
And of the began to shake
And so rhythmically
Ushered in
The old dance


An this Simon John pauses in the writing, and has cause to look back down the line of his life.
So it fills him of a great enthusiasm as he is looking at the length of it, of his dreams and what has mustered from them.
How it was Bok that whispered in his ear early on, through old stories and the words of friends to whom he is extreemly the grateful.
And he sees of his unhappiness, which is oft of the not following his deeper feelings, and of his art as it has come of looking to see what it IS and not what it is NOT that stirs so deeply.
How he has of his imagination caused of the dragon to stir, and peoples; places, to come rising from the words and movements that others may see them and enjoy the sights.
And of how he has wished deeply of a knowing of the time which he is born.

As if informed before birth that a time was near when men would not be warring, but weaving a great love.
And in life, he sees how there are wars, and has through time stoked the fire of his word-potency so as to trip everyone who comes near, and to attract those of the same to the weaving rather.
And how he was sad when it did repeatedly come of the music also, and then, go.

But as of Bok's true voice, brethe, vibration, speaks far more the comprehensive than of any book, and that it wishes to flow freely from my plectrum, pen and voice, must mean that others also hear.
And this a few years ago was a thing that happened not so much the apparently.

But that people would call it of the 'cosmic' and make a joke.

But how now his spirit is within the doing of our workaday chores, and our aspirations also-all tasks and endevoursare filled with brethe, and now the world vibrates the more soundly and resonantly for this pouring of his love.
So we have formed of this Narganaut as we of it's boards are coming to our own versions of life that essentially contain the same thing.

And Bok is wild, and Bok is nor good nor evil. And Bok is a maker, breaker, and has an appetite for growing.

And our spirit fills the cathode tube
And fires the eye of television.

And so Bok trickled in his brethe the bit by bit.

And the Simon John will the live to make it pour.

And I would be of the saying that it seemed to me everything was of the falling apart.
Of the emotion this was bourne, it was confusement for the Simon John of the pretty eye kind, and not of a deeper malaise.
For within his ken, he did percieve of deep things doing, moving to a new perspective simply where minds might be more free. And he cannot quickly explain what he means, but for the slowly, yet, that is what Bok's bokk is for.
And some say that Aquarius is coming, and Simon does like the sound of it, so will the help with the in.
And with confidence he has blown his mind apart for you all, such is my wont, that I may see what is deeply. For a mind is not SO MUCH use in such places.
And Bok lay at the depths of this ancestral vision, and did grin at me, and thereafter kept of the popping up of the everywhere, so I were to be the reminded.
And he was to show me much of the underworlds, strange palaces beneath the earth, encrusted with jewel gems and fantastic dark energies.
And Bok folded his wings to the wind and showed me to a place where was also a part of the mind, a door with chains, and I saw his brethe, and the door did become of no door, chains broken and no walls for the need of door either, and on above the door had been written 'God' in various names, but for such are belittling concepts when in comparison to the active nothingness of Bok.
And as I was in this situation, and I say 'I', and by which 'I' I mean my dismembered entity-my soul of a travelling to where this Bok did show me.
And it was a curious of the person of Bok, and long since then that I made sense of it , let alone know what that it was a voice, then after so that I made up that it was Bok, and long till the when he appeared to me.
And what did he look of?

To me he was like anything else, for I of such appearances am the well aquainted. But he was unto the rocks and stones, or as old bones in the hill, or an echoing cave- some bleak where roars the voice of monsters imagined.
And I saw him, and he was of all I can say the leery eye, and of the horns also, and he was of the constant shape-shifting- a here and a there and round-a-swirling, but very, very real and deadly alive when he was all a manifest.
And he was difficult to look opon, because he was not a common sight, but it seemed a thing of confidence, for the fellow didn't seem to want to offer harm, but yet he was fearsome to behold.
But that he was big, and of the horrors looking.

And he was sometimes surrounded by the concentric circles of glowing stuff, like a cosmic onion. Yet he was a good enough likeness to a devil, or even a balrog, that might be contempory names. And the gender was surely of the masculine~I could tell that for the sure.
And when he spoke it was deeply murmurous, and in this certain vision space he took me to, his voice could easily be heard, where normally I would have to be of the quiet.
And he spoke of many sided things.
Dimensions of possibilities.
And a dream for an earth in peril
Of abject healing
Of growth unbounded
Of the unleashing of mind
And most I forgot.

But the feeling is enough- of the warming of the gut, to the unwinding of 'hibitions, and expression of one that is the dark side of us, which for me is the far more interesting, for it is of the imagination, dreams and new creation, whereas in light, all is far too dandy.
And we dipped into old soups of life and had many other curious times.

And it was that Bok wanted to be a music man, but had not the capability, so had asked of me to assemble others that he could plug his fronds into our being and raise the roof of the sky with collective sounds and energies.
And I said I could not help him, for of the past I had tried and failed.

And I was of the shirking responsibitity and he was of the leery eye, that penetrated me so that I was uncertain of what might come; but filled with hope. But then, as now, I was of a minstrellsy disposition, but I was not believing I was the worthy of Bok's band.
And yet, time has shown how his words speak true through seeming blocks and impossibilities, for in the corn~swirl we were formed of the Narganaut and so seeming by chance had so come together of the musical diatonic soundwarps.

Then Bok was of a looking me sharply in the eye and said to me
"Simon the John -you will die and rot yet what you make of the world will remain, fading behind you.
"Yet though your body will ultimately be blown to the wind, your words shall live on
"And you shall know that I am one of your thoughts and I have a life that continues- and that you should not get hung up on the reality of me- for I am but one of many, one a mentor to you, and to others also, but in different forms, all the same.I will not be contained confined, but I live within you, and am named Bok of no name, because it is Bok you have named me.
"People listening of me should listen carefully, and if they are wrong-minded, I will scare them.
"For I have been given the wrong namefor long times and it is misleading to peoples, but I am now portrayed in a betterlight.
"Now I can spread my wings, open my eyes and be of myself in my manyfold forms.
"The scriptures of many countries speak of me, but my role has been miscast.
"I am known Bok to many countries, and I have horns and a hard dick most times.
"What I am is of no name and no voice. I am beyond opinions. I blow out masks and can hide behind a reed like Finbar.
"What you think of me is what you think of YOU. Now meet my Mother."

And with a twist of his mind, Bok made me to look away to a place where suddenly I saw an enormous quim come to engulf me.
I was a spiralling towards this cosmic vulva, lit with stars and swirls, and I could not go any other way but into it.
And it was very warm and very cool.

And Bok could still be heard

"The balance is always!"
And I saw his leery eyes
"This bookis forfeit you write"
And he was of the hardened dong.
"Listen, listen, listen so carefully Simon John.

And it was that I forgot his words for of the twenty years.


So of my life I am coming to the writing of stories, of an extreeme existance in the mind.
So I would write of stories that ran into one another, whose characters were intermingled.
These stories would always bring me to a happiness, and I sublimely say they (FX:DRUMROLL)-
represent aspects of myself.
They give me life and fill it with best quests.

Tales of Jacob and Alice,of Vortex Joe and then Goatkin, Sun, Moon, earth and heaven.
It was Clive who, as has been said, named his horn a Huru.

So the storys met the music and the stories start where the music finishes.

An it is an extraordinary thing a story told, and this has an effect on everyone present.
It binds, it winds it's mystic cloak around gathereds. And is of no separation to the environment, the life and peoples there.
Like the circles concentric around Bok are the pulses of the talking tellers as tale is told.
Phasing with purifying truth these waves do travel from the bell of the didgeredoo as well.
And by campfires one can speak to the local sun, so close are also the planets and stars.
And all of a universe will gather and harken to the bards as they hold attention.

And that person can do what they likes.

So we blow of the Huru

And all are tranced, joined beyond opinions of bard or Bok.

So the dreamtime goes

As we craft it

We work our healing

And for the Spacegoats and Bok are of the mind to activate the veins of the earth with musics and celebration.

And Bok knows his voice and its frondes sending.

And there will be of no wars

And there will be a struggle to wonder, because this is how the story goes.

The horn blows and everything changes

Our will; to fulfill Bok's wish.

So sail Narganaut and make Bok smile.


The brethe to speak through the earth in it's clear lines, to the places where people gathered for ages past.
And the clean whispering licks the land to life and so the people are relieved of the rushes, which there is nothing like.

So a communication had travelled between the Simon Jon and the forms of Bok

And it was that the Simon John was beset then of the gurglings where he did froth of the eyes, girate of the hips, flailing of the limbs with a wildly wailing spluttering of the mouth ears and nose to boot.

And it was within these fits, which the Simon John did wait for a long times with anticipation, that he so recieved of the vision until then obscured.

There the mythic lane where he would walk in terratories prophetic. And up he goes along the mud, cut with tyres of machines, and a greenery, absused and stunted, growing, about.
And there is a feeling of some empire waning, strangulated most slyly foul.

And whose hands did this? And Simon looked down his hands at, and these did terrify him, as his unfiltered eye saw down many ages, where he had owned similar hands.
And some hands had done of the digging and of the working, some of the mending and healing, some of the breaking, and many of deeds most invirtuous.
And he saw the veins and tissues of those hands, and he saw down the cells,. shifting and changing as I watched, seeing lifetimes thousands opon thousands, and of what varied deeds I had done in them.
And I was staggering up this mythic lane of lives, and looked up from mine own hands and there were a tree, beset with skulls in the wood, that were not carved by hands, but grew of the wood.
So they leered at me, these many skulls, and they seemed to search me out in my mind, which was of the focused in prisms.
And in the tree there also seemed many books to be there, somehow speaking and a turning of the pages, licking as Bok himself with a thousand tongues and of a caves and deep places in the wood, caverns of wood where fungi intelligent ruminate and send out their strange.
And how from these depths, a strong sense did arise, a brethe of the deep kingdoms old.
And how I looked at the tree and was not of the surprised, save until I met the brethe speak, as it held me instants in it's ancientness.
And how horrified I was at it's age

And how I knew it knew me.

And how I was that old, but of the how I felt an unfathomable respect of those many years.
The vibration of communication was as a tremor in my being, deeply it grappled with my self and satisfied of the prisms within.
And it was I was stood before the tree, and that it respected of me, that I WAS of the inclination to USE this precious vision.

Then the arms of the tree gestured out to the lands about, and I saw how there was an illness there, of a greyness contrived by mind of men and not of the greenness grown. And this was a sight I had known all my waking life.
A vipid world, slighted by minds a given to the profit making. One that I understand because of lives when my hands worked there, but which seemed sense at the time, but now because of the causes continuance, I could not the tolerate and would spend the life to let the green return to it's OWN, and be free from machinatious workhands.
And the tree would a know my mind and threw me to a place where I met with friends of mind who knew my present hands.
And of my mind, I would strive to be of a me, in that a me wants an open consciousness. And the tree knew this.
And I did meet with those friends and family from a mind belonging to the culture of God religion.
And they were of a loving friends, and close, so close it does of burn me to the love.
And how our love was impeded methinks in my expolded mind, by the nuggets of faiths different.
And my faith is of a nothing that was not there before, of the essense Bok brethe, he of the no name.
And the faiths all methinks were through lifetimes unsatisfied, unearthed, a contrivance of concepts a holding not of the water, and of a floating above the ground and the not quite earth kissing. Yet it was a truth, sure, beneath the symbols, but of the symbols did cause a confusions and the names were of some true name and not the no-name that that unto Bok was given, yet given not.
And it seemed I had a gift, and my eyes went from the gift to the surrounding land, which was all ill and drained and of the wan grasses, pale from contaminated soils.
And I could see that those around me saw not Bok, but did, I know see me as holding Bok's face, yet I remained in friendship, though there was not of the understanding.
And the true depth of it was not reached, but that there was still talking.
And I thought they thought me devil, and they did not see any of my gift, of which its nature, I truly did not know of anyhow.
And the books of the true were many and now the prophets of these scriptures spoke as one many voiced orchestra, with harmony and dissonance.

And my friends did of an ear hear.
And it did a rip of the lid of the mind.
And they saw the hands of ages.
And their eyes and mine became of stars,
to see what stars see.

And it was all left behind me then and there was more gurgling for my part, of which I remember not at all.

Open; a glint of light to the retina, the cherubim had their harps out indeed.

I moved my head, and shots of pain ran through me.

For hours I lay still, half awake, and a song sung itself to me.

There is a sound which has no ring at all
There are some times when sorrows are filled with joy
Earth and sky, one human cry
Rent from throat of mine

And what of this sound that quakes vibrations none?
The silent voice that echoes but is never done
And what words strike strange chords
Speaking from heart of mine

We had made a secret vow and now it comes to light

Around the sun were gliding the angels of light
Beneath the earth prayed denizens jewelled might
Take this gem, here and then
Never here at all

I came to my senses a-lying on the grass
Discovering through heaven's dark I'd passed
Sand and sea, mystery
Ebbing in eye of mine.

Open. The one ray of light was nourishing.

And I was once the more in the hard world my eyes were aching now, and not too pleased at this opening. Yet, rarely were they pleased anyway at anything, or yet, it seemed that way at this moment in time.
This particular moment could have been one, or several moments in time. The author is not sure where it was or how old he was. But yes, it was definately THIS lifetime.
It was a waking up.

So much then passed by my eyes. Memories of my time which have meaning to me.

Fragments. Inaccurately remembered scenes juxtaposed to sounds of half remembered songs, and alternating weightlessness and heaviness.
Any instant of life my friend! Unplottable! Infinite! Forgotten! Inaccesably intricate!
And these were playing in my eyeballs this waking moment of life, wherever, whenever it was.

Open; the world feasted opon me with it's flies.Where I was could have been a lake, a green roadside verge, a desert, a carpark, a skislope...I couldn't remember, but it was an eye opener.


And I woke with a bang, an unpleasant surprise as the world greeted me.

It was somehow known in me already that of the world was not like in the textbooks, I had worked that one out.
It made me surly, this world. It didn't match up with the world I could dream.

And so I of a strived to bring my own dream into my day.

And some call this being an artist.

So yes, the learning which I was schooled of, well much of it, taught me much of the world. It taught me that I should follow mine own star as the rest seemed spirally unbeknowst out of control.
And somehow I joined with others and would you believe, we actually had fun!

But these preliminary Narganauts were, though interesting, provisional.

Only time wierdness could have assembled the craft that we now travel, sculpted by the times, with expressions snout and beauty's ugly face.
Primed for this time, hopefully relevent and cunning to the need.

For, a world with no war. And why war?

Sure we have chosen it from our poorer dreams.
And what dreams? Surely one's mind-life clutter.
Realize. Dreams are life.
Art's a part.
More than one may think.

There are those out to kill the peoples and spirit
but it is so that with cunning
we can guile others to dynamic peace.

With image and sound and action to ground
We may enter a realm that has love at the helm.

Just as one has been tricked to the trenches before,
convinced of the correctness in doing away with this or that life.
One has believed. And another. And another.
So; we all know the result, yet imagine it different. Everyone!

We can stop these wars.

We struggle to bring our best dreams into the society we are.
For who is it does this ill?
He says "it is she", she says "it is he", they says "it is them" they say "it is you" you say "it!" I say "WE SAY WE LOVE TODAY"

And it begins to become, and Bok is of the greatly smiling, and we see of his slime happily drippeling.
And that will be the first thing.

And then the Morgan'd Pugh did of a name give me of them Spacegoats. And they came and brought word when there was no sound.
And they'm a purpose built Cyborg-goat, mashed by space.

And Bok's brethe was of the Morgan'd Pugh as he spake. And the cousin Daniel did instigate with sticks a deranged music with the Simon John a-bleating and bashing strings.
And them were Spacegoats who praise Namorata. And though untold, all dove into the mouth of Hurunagas, a worm they could later play as a dreamtime horn, because of their fearless descent there.
The cause change we would refer to as form 'enhurument', the enhuruing done by Huru Horn. Here the enhurued mind will become so when percieving the huruhorn blown and so in this be called as 'cellestine', when the person is blank headed awaiting amazelment, and new. Whereopon this is being a state of non action, yet; preparation.
And as the music trance depthens, so one becomes unto the next stage 'enhurument', when the body notices the groove and taps along. Whereso now it is possible to become more and more enhurued, and one may well find oneself a Nargourd! So well to ye! And so do seek out gourd and shake! Perhaps to clamber opon the Narganaut!
So bleed us not, for we are Hurine, who praise Namorata

"Hurunagas" we cry. You know why, you remember in ancestral dream, we will trip you forever. And a new old will be the remembered and made, guarded by our errors love, "AND SO WILL BUILD THAT DOME IN AIR
And William Blake also approached this, and is speaking in rhyme through time to us.
This age, now '93
When the Narganaut sails
For such is date
To stir you up
For Englund become
And our vow is done
Made to our lives
My 'hands of old'
And all us agreed be~
That we enhuru the earth
Calling with Yidaki
Making links of dreamtime
And sing

And so no war sung
And so no war begun


So, lying on the grass, open were my eyes, and I saw above but around me the opening galaxies.
And of a spiralling we were to go.

And this forced through a new dawn.
And this were to be called 'Spiros'
After the Greek in Croydon.

And at such moments there will be playing of the enbolu, that harp horn and smoking bowl in one that is encalming to the nerves.

And the frequencies are beneficial.
And the Knights Aeolian know
Show! show! show!
Let us make Owmoho


Thereafter the Matt and I set off to the Redhill Cross, and were cellestine and thereafter did compose of a radical ballade to bespeke of the goings on down whar of the Twyfordown.
And these sounds did enhuru of the people about and also of the Matt and I.

It was of a bouncing rhythm and we bounced into the new and we sang it aftertimes as it did go pleasingly catchingly along, so as to catch others in the web of it.
Or as the time when we were cellestine on the time at Twyfd monastry by the water, I then rushing to Maidstone.

Of Inamorata! Stories told Saganuru
Splatter the M4 in Kaftan
Sing by the fire say the madmen
Sing of Dragons. Songs of deeds.
Sung of Serpent. Worm return.

Racing down to trespass in the cutting where the footworn Dongas paths used to be. Sheer gash of dazzling chalk scalped of its Down for profit which a people Dragon is flowing into. Confused guards stumble about, confiscating the land that allowed them birth, caught by the need to protect their children, tricked by employers who themselves are ensnared.
May Bok smile opon you all and pour down his rancidity. He is goading you with his goat bladder on a stick.
He makes you dance but y don't know why.
Make you fly and dare, yes, to be that high.

And of these deeds and places, greatly was the enhurument, and many people felt of it and were changed within the mind.
And this did resonate much around the people of the land, where Bok's word was unspoken and knitted unseen, a fabric of life , quite fresh.
Of events, of people, ears and eyes. A communication through the muslins of existance.
And carefully, carefully, the brethe of Bok, of life and death and spirit, is of the spreading around liberally.

An who knows where Bok's brethe will travel, and how.
An what influence it has.
Whose ears will prick up.
Oh la! La! Lah!

So, those at first stunned and celestine would soon find themselves greatly enhurued and moved by Bok's inaudible musics. And these would of the , show others.
And so it is said, who knows where his sound, all at once in many places somehow, does travel.

Through stone into ears.

New born cellestine pilgrims travel the odd old new road to enhurument.

And this is a very sociable thing, of the entrancing in a darkening world. A world where spirits Hurine firstly lonesome go explorative in their diverse ways.
And Hurine now cry out to one another

Peace! Dance! Be!

*And it is*

The Hurine meet and moot, and a great celebration do cause. People cog their intuitive role and become themselves an enchanted nation.


And all come down like waters, drop, drop, joining.

So the Narganaut is sailing for this purpose. And many come along. All kinds come.
Some are so. All different way be they, often with a difficulties of the life.
And this of the causes reaction and ripples.
And oft the Simon John found them of a right pain in the butt because of the way they ate of the foods and used of other goods hard worked for by the Narganauts.
And they would of a hang around.
And be of the ever-so-friendly.
And so be it, but they had all of the stomachs that liked of the feeding, and mouths that would help themselves to the chewing.
So the Simon John was the somewhat right reserved to their kind. If the ships crew were not the careful, these rascals would ransack the pantry and squat the vessel and not stop hedonising till the very boards did rot. Exept that wouldn't happen.


But all that came were not of this leech like variety. But that there were good souls, accustomed to the sharing and level headedness.
And that these few were worth many of the leech like ones, and the meeting of them was great relief and reassurance that others worked a similar path of the Hurine.

Those that trip you forever.

May Bok carry consenters through glades id splintering starstuff and with love find fields layered with feathers for you to rest and regenerate.

And at moot, these Hurine started to come together and plot a way to Huru.

How the story could be properly told.
How the dance was for a proper dancing.
And the tune for a well calling
As the time is for a well turning.

For so it was that the earth wanted this, and also was singing to her troubadours, so the hum, beginning quietly, spread around.

And the Narganaut, this ship of sound is a vessel for the spreading it about.

And as said, set about the doing.

So in the ninetee three did many much occur among the peoples Nargourd, and their onceandforall protecting of the land, that is in the peril.
An at twyfor Down at Beltane ninetee the three, the Spacegoats did a goe down to meet again with Nargourds to make musical enhurument and join in with the protest.
Down a donga track where logs had Blake's poetry carved into them in the Bush field, an array and benders appeared to those approaching from
out of the dense foliage and scrub. The encampment of the Dongas Tribe before they were evicted and moved to live on St Catherine's Hill herself.
In the bush camp that Beltaine they told tales of Inamorata to the Dongas and enhurued them easily, though in another style to the Tofu Love Frogs who had played the previous full moon.
And the Dongas were of a protecting this special area of earth with their bodies and wit, warriors wearing white wode, our fish-bone-chalk ancestors from the eviscerated Down.
And their actions cause people all about to notice and have some thought on the matter, which is better than no thought.
And, being of the in and of the life brethe, all the better is the effect for all around. And an enhurument is empowering and filled with musics inspired by high celebration, mighty Nargourd warriors set off with earth dragons to reclaim the land from tar machines.
And guards in bright luminous jackets feel on some level the portent of it all. Must feel the shuddering ground as Hurunagas draws near in subterrainian haunts.
Cannot fail to see Saganuru, dragon-child of Hurunagas, reverser of anger, bright winged worm revealing the golden pathways.

For our actions of ninetee three must go forward into the new. So in this year, around the solstice time, great mustering of tribespeople happened.
And was heard and sung the legend of the Winton Dragon, where the Worm concerned lays its body seventeen miles from St. Cath's to old Winchester Hill.
And when attention is drawn to one of those hills, so does that worm turn his head to see what is happening there. And now that worm can plainly see the peoples of old Englund come from far places to challenge the machines making the M3.

And here, from out of a thicket crawls speaking words of magic and action, Alex of the Dongas. Warrioress of non-violence, bard of Direct action.
I dont know if she knows Bok personally, but she seems to me to be healthily aware of the working of his fronds. I expect they are aquainted, but either way she wields a sublime power and dances spiral steps in the cold night beneath the moon.

And between her and the Hurine, Nargourds all, there was a great deal going on.
A new old time song come round. A scheme and a song to penetrate the hard armour and rain down blessings of gold lotus from Bok's pavilion.

So war of sung song Saganuru, Og of old, and the meeting of the goat and of the lizard. An the two snakes coiling the horn of Huru.
For that worm the brings of new treasures from the garden of life. A culture of friendship even through the valley of the dead and other planets.
All of us suspended in huru. For when a stories are being told that seals this bubble that forms now out of Bok's body, an egg!
This concentrical sphere or conical; Coleridge sayed Xanadu, or it is where Lotos fall.


For we have goed down to the circle of stones and a played music while there beings of a dance in spirals began.
And we have danced faster and white flies Bok's brethe.
And now it licks the land, spluttering voices that cry to the Earth's backbone.
And that this does somehowes activate the earth, that dragon; and make him rise.
And of our plan it is to dance through these centres of stone all across the lands, from Twyford Winchester and out all about.

Whar so at Avebury this year, many had come to the solar festivities and how in instants of the Ben with the Simon John, the revelation of eating scriptures as honey to the taste was enwazzlement to the senses.

And so the mantle of the brain of we was broken open more, and all present fell in there.
And for that is huruing as pertains to that huruing from nature.
So the sun come up and we sit within its heart. Then we dance on the body of the earth our feet patter pan patter pan going.
And furthur our spirits extend into the earth soil and so cradle and be papoosed within the ether-workings of Bok's fronds.
And how of a resonatious it is to the spirit.
And in the earth it connects circles of corn, stones, saucers, and folk who will no doubt be able to unravel their quarrels.

For the Worm comes by here and we shall be devoured. And for, the dance does reach a climax and all are flushed of their toxins so to feel sensitive the more to the earthly rushes, well enhurued and heading fast for Spiros.

For the Simon John knows there are many names for this, but before his eyes he sees Hurunagas thus named by Inamorata and he does shake an impromptu gourd and shriek and tell the tale for it.
And thoughts words and deed transcribe the intention so all may enter into Spiros and sit with Buddhas encircled concentric and also in meridians.
And our stories have become our life, so we could tell good ones that are worth the telling.
And so the plot a thickens and we are drawn furthur into the onion layer atmospheres of his egg!
And how we again of a howling opon our huruhorns causing of the rushes to burst from the earth into our spines.
So the crystal mind is activated and sends healing back to the earth's core. The Narganaut throbs deep and deeper pulsing the resonant of our galactic hub.
And a vision of several of many us shared a circus dream for where men rape the land with bulldozers. Where Narganauts hold them celestine with mesmeric 'chantments and motions telling a story that will prevail.
This is what Bok likes and so still deeper he disappears into his onion.
And theirin is our own palace and our own pavilion wherefrom musicks emenate and scatter into the countryside.
And this be celestine, enhurument and spiros and so a new day of infinites.

And a ball of poison will appear.
And it is no bad thing; but it IS poison.

Bok has things in proportion and he is of no name but just you enlarged.
And he knows our societies too and his Hurine build word sound rhythm for a home and take it about with them. And they are hard at work building these sound cities you cannot see. And for the most it can be a thankless task.
For poisons are everywheres rampant.
And for we would do something of the cure, which is this Narganaut come for.
So we sail, for the rushings of the Dragon have flushed the land. So from circles spiral out the Narganauts, a celebrating and a shaking of the gourds.
And their cooking pot is somehow kept of the stew bubbling and a feeding their bellies wherever the camps spring up where the land is in peril of being turned black with tars of profit.
And as said, the Nargourds protect their land and have a great effect on the conscious next around the planet of people.
Wake up, the bell is chiming.

And Hurine come to suggest new worlds that others may also build of them, inspired opon the brethe of Bok as the Narganaut sails on sounds and gains momentum.
And it is.


So this Narganaut was of a travelling back of and an up and down the Englund, or at least the South of it at that early point.
From Taunton and Honitown to Totnes and Berry Pomeroy where the dumbell crop circle where we met was. Also Penzance, St Austell, Exmouth, Brixham where lives Johnny Harris, and Exeter, where is Rhona.
Then over in Bristol and Bath, Gloucester, Cheltenham, Cardiff, Newport, also Newbury, Swindon, and Winchester where the M3 is being built. Seat of the old Kings of Egglund, heart of karma for the Disenchanted Kingdom.
Then over to Brightly Towne, where we feel at home, where is the beautiful Damian and Jez. Also Oshun, our dawn rattler.
Brightly Town in the South Downs where first, it seems, the seed of the new does appear, wafting in on the waves.
And the Narganaut does catch the current, for its crew are sensitive.
And are prooving themselves to each day make it anew.
And so buzzing about the Englund, we have gone over to the island called Ireland, where this Book of Bok has (first draft) been wholly written.
The Emerald Isle of Song sad in a developing age, forgotten that it's roots are the oldest.
What lies behind the obscuring veils of these times? What new, old age can be constructed from emerald song that shall affect and harmonise with old Englund however has been the injustice. Because we say so, because we play so.

Simon the John speaks a great whirling kaleidoscope and who would be the entranced as Hurine call the dance and round about whirl Bok's bacchants?

And this Isle Eire Land must be of the remembering of it's own Dragon's speak whose fire arouses those to power of soul.
And smile!
Earth leaders lead the earth in songlines through channels made by Yidaki!
Through the Earth blossom flower fruit and root of peace so show the shoot that makes hard power wane. Could it be?
Love with backbone.
Come on punks
play the dynamo music.

For many tales told in thie fair Ireland and wherever the Narganaut has gone has made story. And so fly, lovers of life, relievers of sufforing, to the heart of the street bum, where dwells Bok also.
In the uniform of the Gardia, un the haircut of the young girl, the quiff of the newspaper boy, the cafe owner, the buisness man and tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor.
Live the serpent vision, it'll do ya proud!

Bok had peered down from his pavilion and saw that his fronds were wove be Nargourd all about the disenchanted Kingdom.
And how these ether threads whereof the strong spellbinding amonmg all of the peoples there, though the going was subtle.
And Bok spoke to me of his efforts in the music buisness as a manager-from-hell. That he was no musician and had saught out those to play a tune.
How he found of the L.G. Bloomer first and Zegthuuku last. In between showed up Gadzollocks, Cronk and Gargallax, vocal warblers in the rear and stone beaters too.
LG was of the great quiff and poetics where Zegthuuku could generally be found wrapped around the enbolu, making sounds of an extraordinaire.
Goatelvis, he of the chrome and oil voice and a showgoat to boot,and the Simon John did boggle of what Bok's intention was. What wild bacchanalea was he anticipating?
Simon saw Bok's brethe fill fill with the vision of that daemons' dream. What did I see and hear? It was beyond me!
And Bok conveyed to me the effect that the music would have on the whole planet.
And he showed me how he pulled threads from different parts of that planet, to make a various bound cloth. It was amazelling to look upon this cloth that Bok showed me for it was a glistening with bountiful colours and very enhuruing to look at.
And on this cloth was Bok's harp, whose colour sounds permeate the soul as it is plucked by the fingers of the wind brething its ether harmonic all about the worlds.
And that it's sound did caress my own soul and lead me to the huruing, did make me to the dance and feel of the euphoria, let me to the confidence come and allow me to reach my larger spirit.
Yet so it was Bok's band in th'imagination, and now he lookes at the sleeping Narganauts and all the Goats and he does brethe his brethe onto, into us. ANd it is a full frightening fearless fun.
And Bok was loud laughing with us at the joy.


So, of the full moon it was, just before Septembre and the Spacegoats did one by one collect outside the Seajan ua Reactain and play of the musicks.
And of the Simon; I had noticed of his own selves that be of a good performance because the Ka did bemoan that she did not feel up to it. The Simon John had noticed of his own selves, that, before a performance of the mind-blowing nature, he is often feeling of the ill, cold and cantankerous, and be fooked if he is going to get up the out of his blanket, (which is where he will be) to do unto a show, enhuruing to the peoples.
But that it is then that Bok fills me with his brethe and up gets the he Simon Jee and play of the mandyoline, sing and be taletelling and it is headed 'tward Spiros.
And that Ka it was was the latest to arrive out our music making this night, but after such unenthusiastication at first, was later wanting the not to stop and of the doing another set, and this when the Simon
John was pooped.
Thankfully to the Simon, there was to be no replay and it was that they were to be to the trucks back a going.
But that it was in the Kingdom of the Drunk where we had played outside that bar, among the sozzled drinkers of fermented grain. And most were very wazzled and beat loudly of bottles with sticks and make displays of shuffling dances as well.
And of the one named Paddy, he did grin and a gurn in his wazzeledness, with no teeth did pull a face of the Les Dawson and easily and with such talents as these, did steal our audience from us.
So we did give of him a space among our not small crowd of audience, and Paddy did entertain most down and outly royal with his little drum. And we also did tap our feet along as he gurned through a medley of classics from the rock and roll era.
And our ex-audiencesdid of the laugh and clap of the greatly, and we were happy to appease of the folks of this besossled Kingdom, in that we were in their space and they all came from their holes to cluster around us, attracted no doubt by the audably clattering coinage.
And that it was a full moon, and that the performance had been well huruing and that the Simon John did find it full expanding.
And the Simon John is now the more confident in Bok's brethe and that there are others who will share of the enhurument of the planet earth and the enchantment needed for fair governance be well summoned by these methods.

Then it was that Bok huddled me close to him so I could feel of his fetitudinousness. For he was created of that which is the rotting.
And in such, there is much to say of, for it is he of which stuff does the grow of
and, so nourished, becomes eventually of the strong and full grown.
But never does it grow without his putridity, never without the death of creatures and vegetation.
And I looked into Bok's eye and I could the tell he was of a concerned for me, and was a looking me in my eye also.
So he whorled his wings to an ochre rainbow, and we rose into the skies. So high as we could look down at earth, and so many-fested that we could also view from many points at one go.
And, yes. We did a see of the sorrows on earth. Of uptight people controlling meeker lives by force. And it was of a poisons right across the land that amazed of me. And of how widespread and on how many of the levels it was.
How the hegemony of a fear power wielding few holds a nations in it's thrall. How skillfully doth these influential few weedle an attempts to make people not of the power of unity and love, but a broken, hopeless being.
And Bok then whispered to me that all could be different. And he displayed his poisons, saying;
"From this through struggle grow"
And I saw Bok all-a-compassion, and his fronds were a suckling to all the cities of the earth, and an imbibing of the poisons, for to him, it was nutrient.
And he pointed, and life of elves and faries flung itself forth from his fingers.
And when I followed the line whereunto his finger was pointing, I saw the Narganaut, sailing calm among the turmoil of poisons on earth.
"Be wary and be loving" sed the mass of Bok to me, and I listened hard.
What was he suggesting? I felt I could get some idea
~ Bok's band when he said my musicks would affect the changes my somewheres confident mind had dreampt for them songs to achieve.
And possibilities lured me. I smiled.
And the turmoil grew below and was of far the worse than I ever did dream. And yet I had the had of deeper dreams still, but yet these were of my own dreaming.
And full of poisons and exilir I saw balance of movements ever rotating and I suppose it were a fine hold. But both the life and the decay were the nessicery and that the growth only ever occured through there being of the decays and the poison, and the struggle therein proved the decider of what new creation our life and environment became.
So Bok was embracing me warmly and with his brethe illuminated people, creatures and beings that wanted of the active peace life even though they lived on the unpeaceful earth.
And the lights of individuals did then show, and my gaze I had to avert, as the light were so strong and achingly beautiful.

So then I knew that we were of a time ready to be playing, and Bok was the beginning to sort out of the buisness of a tour and I of the melodies and of the meloditians to play melodies of this Hurine music.
So, delving into ourselves, we filled the Narganaut with sound once the more.
And so sailed that vessel to the land of those with loud voices. And we saw the softer spoken people come into the streets and smile openly at the musicks; until it was that those of the louder voices did appear and broke up our spirited assembly.
For it was that those of the softer voice had begun to hear of Bok's voice, quiet as silence though it be.
And that this murmer is fully disconcerting to those of the louder voice, who used the opportunity to stand proud and defy the soft voice.
Yet the soft was the more persuasive and had begun to crumble and crack the hold of the loud ones.
But that the Narganauts tickled at the knowing of this voice within the all and stared with eternal eyes around and the people of the loud voices grew angry and their voices became now of the harsher.
And they hasd brought their metal wagons with them and there were full many of them and they did disrupt and stop the music again. And full threatening they did seem, these people. And Simon John saw deeply into them and saw all of his confusioned self in them also. Yet they did speak of the fist and cudgel, had not the eloquence of expression, but did begin to use of the aggressions.
So the Simon John did get the far away enough to avoid, but not too far away.
And full depressing he found it as the Narganauts were broken up the whiles in this confusions.
And how silly it war. So the next time, those of the soft voice had learnt of those of the loud voice and were ready for them. And the Narganauts learnt how to deal with their own loud voices and heed their soft voices.
And Bok grinned, for he dug it all.

And we set down to discuss these matters of poisons. And it were a good meeting of people from all over the known and unknown galaxies. All came to our MOOT as it was known, and we did of a share, and create in mind and matter also. And it were a great meeting of many kinds and full endurable it were too.
And some of the loud voices heard our light tones and spat venom that they had been decieved of a fuller life, so they were of the soft voice calling and did begin to nurture it also.
And many met to speak and listen, sing their own song and crafts make.
And Bok opened a hole in the sky and we all saw through how wonderous it was.
So from that hole a calm wind blew.
And those of the loud voice did find it full irritating, and though they knew not what it was, it did influence them in the slow opening of the heart. And those of the soft voice did harden to the world in a way that made them more effective at the enhurument, though it changed the sound and word some.
And Bok laid me down on the grass once more and then went away about some buisness.


And I was sat on a hill and the world whirled around below me it seemed in a spiral.
And the grass was there under me and it was very real.
So I was pondering on this, that our world is the plummetooning into the new day
at every instant, and that we make the day by our thoughts, words and deeds.
And I felt my way through this, and again thought of what world would be a good one for peoples to live in and get on with each other.
And I guess it were a Buddha thought I thought, and I desired to make it the real upon this hill, very much the so.
And there plucked I opon a harp of green blades.
And I listened hard; then heard echo!

So also I heard a distant choir, or so I imagined. Either way, I thought that things were not disconnected and jumped up to my feet and onto the spiral that was whirling.
And there on I did suddenly meet myriad creatures, beings beautiful and bestial.
They were from all round the multiverse so there were a few wierd lookers to our human eyes, though Bok would have found nothing out of place.
Indeed, they all said they were people of Bok, but that they knew him by different names. Yet in that they were of Bok's creation, ~ whatsoever he had been named by whosoever ~, all spoke of different mothers.
And all the beings diverse revelled also in my being and as one did pronounce that the party was on and the place lit up in the most psychedelic fashion.
And it was of the great wow, a spiral of gorgeous sounds and textures radiated out into the world once more.
And this is Spiros, and the many were avid most whirling themselves round on into the heart.
And that it has no end exept to wake as new and cellestine.
And that is constant births.
And now that the Narganaut surges forward among these spluttering colour waves, on the prow, Narganauts peering to the new chanting it's song with eager faces.
And it is out of some gorgon mouth that they have come to ride this Spiros.
For it is the time of no time, our sun, moon, our bodies and shadows tell us the order of things when one is enhurued.
For true, this is how things really are.
For this is the time of no time where we must be who we want to be, sing to make the day and also to meet with myriad otheres for those diverse plains.

For this is the time of no time where the clocks go neither forwards or backwards and onto realities shore (that it dream visioned), has washed the Narganaut.
So now the crew do treble the hum of their song. And it is really a very normal thing.
And the Spiros is envigorated by the effort of the Nargonauts and becomes exhultant and so the lands about are nourished a bit like a multi-dimensional rotary garden water sprinkler.
So the Nargourds troupe out of the hills, dells and old places of the earth and have made instruments most ingenious and set about playing them with great skill. Such craftspeople! And the Spiros swelled.
So an effect jouous it had about the place, that much and many were pulled also onto the Spiros, ans smiling, or terroroarified, were pulled along by the life giving current.
And wailing, halooing, cheering, strumming, blowing, stomping, bellowing; all so did all the myriad beings surged forward and dove full into the new spiros with ringing choruses.
And Clive did blow of the huruhorn, as, on other didges, or yidaki, did the Chrissie, the Ka, Zegthuuku, Christos and I the Simon John.
A golden serpent rose, glittering with all other colours.
From its' scales fell lotus and invisible binding wishes from the universal heart.
And all the collected knew they were one, though they called the serpent by many names.
Some called it Shiva, some a dragon, some Quetzcouatl, rainbow serpent or Ouruorbous, and many were the other names.
Yet all could not help but join in, for there was no time and no boundries, and those of the loud voice could not even be heard in the tumult, even though they shouted loud to the moon. And all of the soft voice did a hum that was all the noise there was because of their growing number and oneness. And soon all loud and soft were of the humming.
And of the droning and chiming did the Narganauts commence a deeply sound strata and it was very of a mixingmost with the humming.
And the music was of the 'maximum enhurument', which Zegthuuku noted, though the bench mark was soon exceeded.
So all dove into this new spiros and we put on shows.
So it was that many beautiful Brightly Town girls came down in their finery, and greatly did make it pleasing to Bok and his promoters.
And we all did dance with these ladies of the very much opon this spiros spiral stage.
The Gorgon Mouth opened and Bok appeared, dissapeared and reappeared many times,
each time a different face of the displaying, always increasing in his manic wassailing and a calling to the dance.
For now it is the time of no time, some say first and last, and now it was the impossible to be not the hearing of Bok's voice.
So all from various world systems were joined in this celebration and enwhorlment.
And it allways has been, though we of earth recent have been known to turn our backs to it.
For I say, is it not the atomic world always of this style activity/
Let us go of the into it I suggest, for in this ninetee three, we had better do the something.
And Bok is of the agreeing, for though it is small matter to him,it would be sad, he said, for not to see it all, this earth that is.
So dawn comes, and the myriad beings were at last of the crashed out and the Clive, being the first up, was picking his way over the bodies trying to find a smoke.
There, sure enough, were of the Daniel and Lewish, who were of the grinsome duo, having of the Hurunagine enrollerated. And of the Clive did greatly smile.


So it was that the Simon John did peer into the bottom of his jug. And that there was no tea left in it, and that his head was still the swirling, yes that he felt a satisfaction.
He, that is I, looked into himself, and wondered where he was. And that he liked of his own company, but yet suffored lack of humans around.
And that he did love deep of who he met whatever their temprement and that he can do the something to make people feel better in their lot in his acts and arts.
How it is he loves being inside of himself, but he cannot hide there and must love and give to others as well, especially as they feed oft him for his efforts
And it seems this Book of Bok has of a growing relevence, for as it is written, it seems that others are doing the same processes, in their own ways, with their own names for it. Yet that many are a jumping opon the Spiros and that it is a regenerating and intertwining nature.
And the weaving of Bok's brethe is intricate and to be seen all over the land and the planets, moons and stars, nebulas and so on.
In the crop circles we see where it rained diamonds one time for the Narganauts, when they had no name, and Bok was eagerly watching.
And the sounds subtle were pouring down from our human harps, and the earth and sky chose with no choice to echo.
And the Simon Johnwondered whether he should go in or stay out, and crawled deeper into his blanket to rest a bit before his setting off on a new oddesy.
And it is he reckons that those old scribes must have somewheres been of the enbolu loving.
And it is that one has to remain strong in ones dream, that it may break real into the new dawn of days.
And that Bok did leave of the Simon John in the peaty smelly bog and of the confusions, but that it was of no matter, simply Simon's desire to hear of Bok's voice and do the sortings out of some wonderous musicks that others could hear as well.

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