animation(repost)

I am a shy, sky volcano using spectrums of pastels pigments, neon and brilliants as nourishment… the happy fool’s food.
The reaction is visceral. The result ethereal.
Beauty’s fragments vaporized.
The music dances in the stomach of a whale’s back…
A haloed mountain and its aerial destiny.
The barrel growls.. It moans and warns.
The exits above this triangle is an open scar.. A crown.
A cave into the downward.
Our mother’s mouth of intangibles..
Magenta memories, silver secrets and airy animals..
Inhale the treasures along with the trash.
Exhale orally… breaths of bubbled, fluttering birds.
Explosion… clouds of souls, paint and the blazing pink concepts stirred.
A tornado of fantasies rejected.. Ejected.
Oozing out sky babies all ripe and wet.. basking in a pool of blood from a wounded rainbow.


(neptoonjune)
(the teal helicopter buzzes byeeee)... outtie

yo check takashi murakami sportin the dee and ricky lego bowtie(dis is a collaboration in a sense).dope!!!
(neptoonjune)
(mauve sicko buzzes byeeee)...outtie

(sound of wretching). this the peice "the rainbow people". notice that i tried to control it(expression) and it just ran away from me. more brain vomit coming. maybe a poem next.(neptoonjune)
(pasteljets run on paint..pj buzzes byeeeee)...outtie

prostitute

Her eyes… luring..
Searching.. Stalking.. Hunting for mine.
My eyes running.. in circles.. Screaming.. in mute..
Two refugee worlds abandoned and shrinking.
Trying to hide behind blinks.
She’s made of gin.. And wet.. Sweet sugars of sin.
Her lips are flames.. Burning in my brain.
A devil whispers into her ear and.. she smiles.
She licks her pain with vulgarity..
Her tongue is bait.. A fleshed arrow.. Or a distraction..
Dancing and staring at my eyes.
She.. pleading to be destroyed.. Self destructing..
A battered.. Bloodied war worn angel..
Licked by life, lies and kings whose lips slip into routine of slick silver talk.
She is motherless..
Fatherless..
She is dying.. Maybe following ghosts.
She is a radical advocate of religion.. Or..
A murderer of the cross.. The Blood stained stones at Jesus’ feet.
Wingless.. Neurologically neutered.. Lasso lynched by lipstick stained cigarettes and semen strings.. Immersed in such a bestial nature..
And never been kissed.
She is climbing streets and frozen on corners like a terrestrial gargoyle.
With a nose for dna.. Her hair is like dirty honey and smells of the sweats of men.. Salty.. And barbaric.
The Neanderthals in her head.. Try and calculate the Gordian knots of morality.
As the world exhales.. Men fiend and the libido throbs like healthy hearts scattered in ears..
She will be there strutting.. Living.. And wanting to die.

this is " self dissection". more vomit for the strange.
this also a prelude to a peice called the " the rainbow people".(njoy)
(pastel jet buzzzes byeeeeeeee)~neptoonjune~ outtie.

encore!!! my mind is still vomiting but it seems that i what it ate is a mystery hence this peice being "abstract stupidness"(njoy)....(pink atsronaut helmet with frankenstein green jetpack)~neptoonjune~...outtie

brain vomit that i made on my computer with just the paint progam(excessive expression)....(my heads inside of a light pink astronaut helemet)~neptoonjune~....outtie

a poem i wrote a couple days ago(njoy)


Astronauts


Through the spaceship’s glassy pupils…
Floating holes in a spirit.. Staring through the bubble’s eye..
A flat frozen circle of water… sanity’s window .
Intruders and fragmented worlds ..exhibits..
Performing and storming on both sides of an aerial aquarium..
Locked above gods. Religions left in the gardens of return..
Waiting like orphans.
This missile of destiny.. Pirated by Argonauts.. With their
Fear lit synapses.. Popping statically..
The microscopic explosions of hedonism.
Rummaging.. Staggering like stilted pyramids on tilt .. Through the blood and the black of a cave’s abyss.
A rivalry between moon and sun..
breathing in flames and mined mounds of astronomy’s snow..
Winter’s words raining. Falling back to lips of a lunar volcano.
Guided by exhalations of light..
In quest of a plant.. Or ..
Ethereal beings.. Anatomies of air..
Pale and translucent willows.. With those..
Eyes of oil oceans.. Paused lava drops. An obsidian gaze.
Hoping.
Rocketship, Rocketship.. Heaven’s escalator..
Rocketship, rocketship climbing up the hip.. Of the unknown.
Rocketship , rocketship.. A shark catapulted from depths..
Coming up for air.. With its tail ablaze.
Look at the floating ornaments.. Detached and in malaise.
Look.. See how mars was born bloody?
Embryo of rage.. Bathing in wine. A bullet wound in the dark..
Of a freckled indigo umbrella.
who knew home would look so..
Sealed with teal from here.. My abused familiar.
Saturn.. Hula hooping with a halo..
a yellow yawn.. A stretched ,erect noose of gold.
Visually climaxing.. Salt water drops run screaming down the cheeks of
Astronauts.

this shit is for my strange ones...nice verse kanye.."im gifted merry christmas".
(magenta jet buzzzes byyeeeeee)~neptoonjune~..outtie

this "my" poet pablo neruda. the best in my opinion.(this is not his best).
Out of lemon flowers
loosed
on the moonlight, love's
lashed and insatiable
essences,
sodden with fragrance,
the lemon tree's yellow
emerges,
the lemons
move down
from the tree's planetarium

Delicate merchandise!
The harbors are big with it-
bazaars
for the light and the
barbarous gold.
We open
the halves
of a miracle,
and a clotting of acids
brims
into the starry
divisions:
creation's
original juices,
irreducible, changeless,
alive:
so the freshness lives on
in a lemon,
in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,
the proportions, arcane and acerb.

Cutting the lemon
the knife
leaves a little cathedral:
alcoves unguessed by the eye
that open acidulous glass
to the light; topazes
riding the droplets,
altars,
aromatic facades.

So, while the hand
holds the cut of the lemon,
half a world
on a trencher,
the gold of the universe
wells
to your touch:
a cup yellow
with miracles,
a breast and a nipple
perfuming the earth;
a flashing made fruitage,
the diminutive fire of a planet.(wow. are you ok after that?)(lemon colored plane buzzes byyeeee)~v~ aka (neptoonjune)

this an amazing painting born from the action painter, jackson polluck's paintbrush.(ghost piloted plane buzzes byeeeeeee)~v~(neptoonjune)

guess who. its quest dude.... outtie(left the plane on virus and took jetpack instead).. outtie.~v~

i agree. cudi

i mean i love my city but...

this pic catches the true essence of new york. nigga dnt pretzel it. i love my city. i am houstonian and will always be but, where im from if you aint spitting about a certain lifestyle then they aint feeling it. i mean im tired getting looked at like "what the f**k" after i give a nigga an excerpt. with all that said i decided that in about eight months iam goin to move to new york. the dream is very elusive and i have to stay hot on its trail.(all arrows point to new york)
(plane the same color of watermelon flesh buzzes byeeeee!)~V~

im kinda half joking half serious. but fa real if i dnt make it i might as well be dead. To me its music or nothing. i dnt wanna be a doctor or a lawyer fuck all jobs that list being a robot as an requirement. i feel all these rhymes i got buzzing around in my brain and i cant get em out. all these lines i brag about are useless if i dnt use them. maybe i should hang myself with one.(thinking bout it).
(blue jet crashes)~v~

these are some fragments from kerouac's poems(pastel pronounciation).

this is the writer/poet jack kerouac. his rythyms, wordplay,and timing would make lupe bow.

"how to medtitate"

-lights out-
fall, hands a-clasped, into instantaneous
ecstasy like a shot of heroin or morphine,
the gland inside of my brain discharging
the good glad fluid (Holy Fluid) as
i hap-down and hold all my body parts
down to a deadstop trance-Healing
all my sicknesses-erasing all-not
even the shred of a "I-hope-you" or a
Loony Balloon left in it, but the mind
blank, serene, thoughtless. When a thought
comes a-springing from afar with its held-
forth figure of image, you spoof it out,
you spuff it off, you fake it, and
it fades, and thought never comes-and
with joy you realize for the first time
"thinking's just like not thinking-
So I don't have to think
any
more"

(fuschia plane buzzes byeeeeee)~v~

weezy is a volcano erupting infintely. he has been the rockstar of hiphop lately.(pastel personality)

ye is more than a rapper or pop artist. he has blossomed into the voice of a generation who speaks in sounds shapes and colors(pastel rose).

this is called "a crowned eunuch". my drawings are concept over technique(they suck). this is kinda beautiful but grotesque(castrated mind)

~poem~

i remember now. it was four hundred or so...ago but the skeletons are returning from the graves like the inanimate reanimated. the barbarous songs sung by the recoil of the rope when hyperextended to its full elastic destiny is a vile voice creating music for a massacre. my neck,.... limp and flaccid like a dead swan,a black swan lifelessly dangling like quiet ornaments... a quiet oranment. a puppet once machined by the commands of superiors with angelic...calcerous complexions....snow angels. i remember... the rush of the past is a deluge, drowning my psyche in the immutable waters my thoughts once swam in. the sharks that haunt me now were once just sacraficial swimmers....now fully evolved predators salivating for four hundred years of kiss-sweet revenge. avenging the remedial state of our future,these mouthes indulge themselves into oblivion, never would they approach the sinful podium of gluttony...crowned by pigs...never. i created all of the love but inherited all the hate. somtimes they are forgave because the moment they are born..they inherit my unconcious scorn...angled at caucasians with worn whips and words...that season my pride with an acerb grain, pain. my mind stalks. those sharks are still there...lost in the nocturnal corners of brain. behind the shadows of my cryptic thoughts ive slaughtered and buried their physicals...along with their descendants only to hurry life back into their frames..so my mind is a flickering necropolis alternating fates for them. switching on and off and on and off.....(a murder and ravival)

"love is the answer to right and wrong"

Andy and Basquiat became close friends during their collaborations(kinda reminds me of me and my nigga phils). No homo

                                                              "happy head" by british artist, Damien Hirst

as i pore water into pores fertalize my insides got these flowers growing out of my corpse..ima walking bouquet. zombie infested infected with freshness grungy with a gentleman's gesture loony lecture like lecter he's on point... i am jus a syreenge(syringe) wit wings a cryptic hummingbird in reverse instead of slurping he's dispersing nectar the speech is so sweet. diabetic teeth. he spit pastel pelets like a pez dispenser infact that last bar was la..venda(lavender) witha hint of magenta dis cartoon dialogue im overheads like unspoken thoughts my words are in clouds like charlie brown wen i spit it rains dis comic strips from the lips im bowie bizarre cus my physical consists of the same stardust dat was found in ziggys nostrils(sniffs) u see the mainstream doesn't know his name but he's huge undergound like colossal fossils..........to be continued(you will probably hear this again on a beat thats wen u get the rest...get this first)..........outtie.

~V~........(fuschia plane buzzes byeeeeeeee.)

i spit like an uzi ate the ozi/it pop my top off am bout to lose it/bird and da bees we make love in da sky/ dance on the world as we jump the broom we jump the moon dont step in our space/we run it our pace/and i kno love kill slow ed hardy/like cupid got a gun and start shootin up the party/got the key to my heart let me slide inside yo buildin/promise u will thank me like a pilgrim/ spit movies and dreams compare to stephen king/ i think green see red and touch yellow put it and a box and tie it all 2gather/ u got a rubic cubic fellow/bet i brang it back like a stutter asilamalakem i keep that peice brother

couple bars i juz shited out.i kno ikno i fogot my toliet paper.and am not flushin nigga........awwwwww

~philly~

this guy here is to art what jimi hendrix was to rock and roll. The black picasso(due to his primitive painting style). overdosed the same as my other hero(hendrix). and im drug free. lol.(no weed no drugs at all).........outtie
~V~..............(plane buzzes byeeeee....)

I the ever so everlasting, creative,rap movie director, philly blunt juz calling all smokers to light a spliff with me. using spliff as a methphor(step inside my blunt or world)............um done am tired of thinkin to hard. lamfo i mean lmfao

first child

yoshi!!

wats vertical world? this is "V"(one half of pastel jets) and this blog is the first child born from my mind. Introduction: the pastel jets are a rap group(ground breaking shit) and it consists of
me(v) and that guy behind you with in the purple with the polo cap on thats philly. as far as music goes he is a self described "imaginator"and hook genuis. and i am..........cocky lol. nah im extremely confident. if i had to describe my style it would probably be labeled as vocal visionary/oral painter( no lie. ask for a bar or 2). Back to the group shit tho. we working our mixtape called dumb&dumber. dont ask whos who its just a a concept of two dope niggas gettin into sum shit together. it consists of 18 tracks six of which we rap together and six a piece where we shine seperately. at this point not much to talk about. keep checking us out and well keep ya posted.....................outtie. ps. look for the mixtape around april.
(planes buzzzes byeeeeeee....)