Random Transmissions

Random Transmission from the Valley of Joyous Aching
received: Unknown

And the day would finally come when all the sleeping petals would begin their stretching, unfolding, baring their stamens to the sun. Sometimes she would clip them before they bloomed, and hang them up to dry. Some would remain frozen for years, preserved in a jail cell of time. Others withered and said ‘throw me back to the earth’. Newborn fronds in a state of curl ached to grow, to fill the valley with their wild fingers. Suddenly the forest curtains opened and we were surrounded by the music of flowers, and colours came bursting out from us like endless ribbons, spinning and wrapping around us in the joy of play. We gave ourselves to the magnetic light and laid buttercups at the feet of deers, our desires drank water from the petals of lilies, and every one danced to the rhythm of the sun’s heartbeat.

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from the Songline of Ships
received: 4th March 2010

And the words came forth and tossed our already sodden ships, and instantly we were swept away by the currents of soprano, alto, and everyone surrendered to the bass line. We had decided it was ok to get lost. Fortunately, the sand had warmed enough during the day, to lay in, comfortably. And as we lay there drying, speckled with sand, the birds, they circled our hearts. The sun asked for blooming trees in return, so we offered a piece of driftwood, and said ‘it’s all that we have to give’.

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from Seven Senses Mountain 
received: 13 Jan 2010

Whispers traveled through the valley, restless birds circled the crown of the mountain, and the day came when the juice of berries escaped their skins, eucalypt leaves shrivelled, the rich soil faded, yes there came a day when the life pulse drained away, and the mountain wept and opened her heart and freed all the pain she stored there in her iron heart, see it run down her face, see it run into the rivers, see it wend out to sea, yes, see the rage of the mountain in the eyes of a mounting wave.

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from Reveries Path 
received: Dec 2nd 2009 

I never forget my safety glasses, the debris when I walk outside makes me nervous. Birds swoop and caw and the dove that roosted in the wild Wisteria has left with her babies. Creaks and crackles jerk me out of my daydreaming. I serve coffee to myself and sit with the junk mail and slip to dreaming of talc powdered babies and bedtime stories, sandpits and sprinklers in the yard. The plug from the dam was pulled and I am flooded with a thousand little girls. The walkabout spirits call me and I cannot ignore their songlines. I wander down paths that lead to paths that lead to paths, I sit crosslegged, let the storms ride over me, then walk towards the sun.

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from the Well of Lightning 
received: November 23rd 2008

Beyond rock piling deeds, I open my eyes, find myself in the city of sighs, exhaling the stars I had imprisoned, and I am spirited to reverie. I have strayed into the theatre of your touch; your kisses vibrate with encore. Cherry lips sublime, with sword of soul, you draw out my mute tongue! Bless the visionary map, the brave passage, traveling with the line of birds; regarding with wonder the entwine of ivy and honeysuckle. All over again, craving the ambrosia fashioned in the press of our fragrant blends. When we appear at the Well of Lightning, the unarranged harmonies shall claim us. Listen, listen to the sailor songs of the Milky Way, feel the caress of breezes, and like the Moon, know that I adore you.

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from Flash Opera Verve 
received: August 6th 2008 

You know, each lightning bolt is a universe, she said. No two are alike. Electricity began to permeate everything and everybody, and all the trees applauded, some even got up off their knees and begun to tug themselves out of the earth. It was the hour they had all been waiting for, as thunder played a scene from the final opera, and birds all over the world started to dream of forming words and sending them to mute men. Rain cleansed the mountain; baptizing flowers in songs of freedom. It was all that she could have wished for, especially when the mimes of angels could finally be heard.

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from Bells Clearing 
received: April 20th 2008 

Nature has a coating on it that can’t be seen from afar, like a cats tongue or a leaf, or our skin. This is where the wheels of the Caravan start to yearn for release from the sodden earth. Oiled and resting, it is time to take to the open road. I saw dark clouds in last night’s fire, which always means a call for moving. Some have said it was smoke that I saw, just the burn off from the fire break. My blood is restless; travelling, and I have taken to packing, the fires are expected anyway. My eyes search darkening skies for a skyhook, and the heads of the Gypsy Vanners are low. Our songs and dances have shaved a slice off the moon. Onward, forward, our beginnings safely tucked away in the caravan of memories, onward forward. Clip clop.

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from the House of Glass Slippers
received: April 2nd 2008 

The Mad Hatter’s lunch went cold, and Alice dipped her fingers into the salmon dip. “Oh, such faux pais” said the Doormouse. But Alice knew that the salmon wouldn’t mind, because they like to push into the stream. The Queen is peeking from behind the trees, all the hearts on her dress are falling off, because the seamstresses used old cotton. Alice likes to sew, and on Wednesdays she likes to climb trees and hang all over the branches with the Cheshire Cat. He always has a great illustrious story to tell. The last story had her laughing so hard, the earthworms came up to inquire about the noise. After afternoon tea mints, the sisters and I leave the table, we sit in the lush of green, and we take the occasion to ground down our glass slippers and fashion vases. There are many blooms coming to play you know, let us prepare the refreshments.

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from Retro Platform 
received: January 22nd 2008 

She is finding her little woman, parting her hair to the side, hands on hips, widening her earthy smile. She is me and I am her, and together we are Maelstrom. The blip blip plays a mesmerizing song, her legs swinging while she plays the game. Seeking the portals to the next screen, she bangs down a leg when she perishes. Re-set and she’s rocking the channel again. Re-set buttons erasing old crashes, granting immaculate opportunities. Possibilities are rousing. In passé, a big shot wanted all mine; I unfolded my fingers and gave them all over. Slow girl, dormant instinct. Retro is calling me from the kitchen and I must fold paper ships. It is my diversion; will I claim land at the end of sailing this turbulent sea?

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from Phantasm Arterial
received: January 21st 2008

Sweat coats the steer and I am bound for the breezeways beyond the arteries.  It’s a meander to a pins and needles disorder, and a special occasion to saturate my palms in the second coming and light up the room with tail-lights. I
honour the pit and score out the black from my core. Ersatz and bona fide chide with songs of grey. To riddle; Is the foresight of a fading planet ample enough to burrow into fallow soil, long enough to breathe life into? Enough to
keep from laying wraith roots out in the sun, to dry, to turn back to the nadir of earth, forever and ever, amen? The clock strikes 4 and the wind bids play with the garden bells. A stray cat peeks through my window.

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from Ripe Twilight
received: January 20th 2008

There is mist crowning the mountain, and there is time for contemplation. In a ripe twilight, we will talk without the essence of suspended air shouldering in, without dying tree poems and pine needles in my back. Hours are long with sunken pause when Saturn sits and beckons to know her moons. A whisper is like a good wine seated in the dusky woods; resisting the penchant of fervent tongues. One turn off the mark, and it will breathe, and Sun will gift her patience with a dance upon her countenance and stars will be fathomed and the tide will sound as it should, steady, and rolling in with ease.

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from the Ferris Wheel
received: January 19th 2008

Step right up for the Ultimate Ride. They say when you get off; you’ll never find your way home. Watch out for the puddle at the back of the Fair, if you step in it, you may fall through; we have lost many a passerby that way. Fairy bread and balloons, bearded ladies and muscle men, this is the land where caravans settle and home fires glow on old faces. I can hear the dolls sighing from the back of the painted wagon. The bleeding hearts are indulging in pity cakes and performing dramas on the parade of I; swan songs and necking euphemisms are the new black. It’s enough to make a girl want to throw mud pies and tell them it’s time to applaud now. Take their big books off them and pitch them to the lions. It’s a freak show of fine fuddling flair.

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from the Cool Room

received: January 17th 2008

No trains today, only buses that drive down roads leading to eateries and willy wonka smiles. A fly is buzzing around, letting me know i am grounded. One mosquito left over from last nights vampire party, is stuck on a merry go round in the breezeway. Silk painted cloth draped over the door, pillows on the floor, spritzer on the table. Bend and stretch, maybe i should do Tai Chi, those people look peaceful, all that slow movement. A favourite striped shirt waits to be filled. Eyeore has a bee on his nose. I wonder how my mama is. I hope she has her favourite treats. We must see the cousins soon. Hungry, butter makes the toast, without it, we are dry. Have some ice tea, a cigarette and let’s drive.

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from Lees Springs

received: January 16th 2008

Lava pours in great streaks of orange, filling the verdant valley. I am burning up with fever. The lights go out and the house starts to shake. Ash falls from the heavens. Suddenly it begins to rain, and everything is hissing and smoking, a protest to this wet imposition. What is left behind is a substance resembling grey mud full of minerals and secret ancient properties. I smear the magic residue all over myself, and walk slowly towards the natural talking springs.

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from the Green Room

received: January 14th 2008

I saw her last night, her hair was out and wavy and she had a shine to her eyes. She is loved, and it shows. That guy has short man syndrome, telling stupid jokes and his big bulky friend liked to say the c word. I tell you, us girls were so impressed, we broke into secret women’s language. Next frame; short man apologizing. The walk of fame took me back to the daze when we dined with mad hatters and passed by the room with many mirrors. I didn’t know about Alice, i am so sorry, that hurts. I hope she has an angel or two waiting on her. Last ball, corner pocket, what a shot!! ..ah seems i’ve still got it.. pow pow!

Lily © 2011

Random Transmission from Soliloquy Station

received: January 14th 2008

I can hear a train roaring, then fading. there’s something comforting about hearing a train across town. maybe because it reminds me there’s a way out of here.

Lily © 2011

About Random Transmissions

They come bursting in as my eyes close at night, they settle on my shoulder as a bird passing through, they arrive finally after I’ve waited at the station for days upon days. They are my garbled voice trying to catch a clear wave.

[These Random Transmissions may not be used without permission from the writer aka me.]

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