The Chicken, aka Atyllah the Hen, Chicken with Attitude, disenchanted with rampant levels of human fuckwittage, has flown the coop. However....

Something's happening... over here...

(As you know, it's hard to keep an irrepressible Chicken down...)

The Chicken Has Flown the Coop...

...but is finding it hard to leave humanity well enough alone... (I mean you're just so interesting - and damned funny - to watch!)

Nevertheless, with the kind support of my friend Shameless, I've found yet another way of keeping an eye on you all... Yes! From now on, although not active, this blog will be guarded by one of Shameless's magnificent Lyon Lions - only this Lion, who will be joining me in Novapulse, is actually a Novalion (title courtesy of one Minx)

You could also have lion, if you asked really nicely and promised to put any thoughts of animal cruelty aside - face it, you don't want to mess with a lion anyway, unless you want to end up as the filling in a lion's lunch sandwich... If you want to know more, go here and here

And now, meet KASHGAR, my Novalion.

Kashgar has told me he is a Lion of Many Worlds, Paths and Plains. His name, it appears, means "variegated houses" and given his beautiful colouring, noble Kashgar is himself, a variegated lion - with Zen inclinations...

Shameless has asked that a poem, inspired by Kashgar, be written and so, together, Kashgar and I have written a poem which we have dedicated to Aunt Aggie.

Interconnection & Impermanence

A hand rises...

Pebble plops
ripples shimmer
towards the shore.
A droplet splashes
the earth
moistens the seed
resting below.
Shoot rises up
to meet the sun.
Flower blooms
and is kissed
by the honeybee.
All is One
and
constantly changing.

A hand rises...

Words form on a page
the present
shifts
to the future...
The world alters
and
they're not just words
anymore.

Now, you take care, be good and remember - Kashgar and I are watching you! And best you keep watching too, you never know when or where I might reappear... Yes, indeed, you may tremble!

Birthday Reflections on the Fuckwittage of Humanity - and Over and Out

Well oiled on "tasmanian devil juice", I've been watching planet Earth from afar - and muttering - a lot. Not only were the doings of humanity the result of my beloved Aunt Aggie's demise, but you horrible lot have had me flat on my back for far too long. Human Allergic Condition. I ask you. What a horrible thing. You should be ashamed of yourselves. No wonder the Andromedans can't afford to send envoys here. Given their heightened levels of sensitivity and empathy, they'd take one sniff of Earth's air, keel over and evaporate into the cosmic energy. And we can't have that now, can we. (It's a rhetorical question, no need to answer it.)

But here I sit, in a sanctuary in Novapulse, keeping my beady on you - and on Chicken Man, who, it must be said, in the face of the most unbelievable human doings and screwings is performing a pretty sterling job of trying to not only save the trees, but preserve the recreational space of thousands of the Mugger City's people, particularly those who've previously had to do without. But we won't get into the politics of the thing - because, by the Corncob, then you really do see human fuckwittage on a tremendous scale.

But it's time for me to sit back and reflect ("tasmanian devil juice" notwithstanding) on the human condition. See, it's my birthday tomorrow... "Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me...tra la laa..." and birthdays in Novapulse are always a time of consideration and contemplation. And, since my last year has mostly been spent on Earth, it is not surprising that it is Earth and my relationship to it and its beings (and, erm, doings) that I find myself pondering. And the thing that hits me squarely in the beak everytime is well, fuckwittage.

What can I say, in a galaxy full of all sorts of beings, humanity does stand out as the grand high lama of right plonkerdom. As Aunt Aggie so often used to say, the trouble with humanity is ego. Me. Me. Me. There is, amongst the far wider population, simply no sense of the bigger picture, no realisation that actually, your little lives are all but an illusion, a dream created by the mind, driven by ego. If I consider the things I have seen Chicken Man deal with over the past few weeks, I am beaksmacked at the myopia of the human condition - and the viciousness. Everyone has a personal agenda. Everyone wants recognition. The greater good is a concept grasped only by a very few who struggle to swim against the surging, clamouring tide of Me's. Everyone is worried about profit, image, fame, power. Aside from Me Me Me, it's also all Gimme, Gimme, Gimme. You just have to look at the state of the world to grasp that. Yes, dear, please do take off your rose-tinted spectacles, it's really not that rosie from where I'm sitting.

There is very little sense amongst humans of the interconnectedness of all life. Some do seem to grasp it, but they are few and far between. But bless them, they do try. They do pray for the enlightenment of the rest, but the rest have their noses so far up their own tails that they're really not able to smell the roses - only that other stuff - which, really, doesn't smell too good at all - but they seem to like it. (Nothing like getting high on the smell of your of your own shite, right?) But no, the simple reality is this, most humans, bound up in ego, see only as far as the ends of their own noses and forget that there is a big picture, fail to realise that they are in fact a part of the cosmic energy which is everything and everywhere - that they are it and it is they. No, instead they see themselves as lone islands or at most, archipelagoes - but never do they see themselves as a unified entity - and unified not just to each other and the rest of the beings on the planet but to the rest of us in the entire multiverse - warts and all. And as long as humanity and individual humans fail to grasp the interconnectedness of all life, not just on earth but Everywhere, and as long as they fail to recognise that they are souls and, as such, pure cosmic energy and that this short duration that they spend on earth, is well, like a bad holiday at Butlins well, human fuckwittage will prevail. And frankly, I just can't be doing with it anymore. There is just that much that this Chicken can take.

Besides, as some of you have been kind enough to point out to me, you don't like being constantly lectured to by an alien Chicken who thinks she knows better. The fact that I am in the position to take the objective view seems to be offensive to some... Tsk and Tchah, to you, my dear. But I'll grant you this, blathering on about the failings of humanity, wittering away about the inanity of the human condition and ranting and snarking on about the fuckwittage of people is, quite frankly, getting boring. And us Chickens do so hate to be bored.

And so it is, given these reflections, given that I'm about to be another year older, given my bout of Human Allergic Condition and after lengthy discussions with High Command, it has been decided that Novapulse will leave Earth to its fate. I have gathered in my time on Earth a substantial dossier of information which will be compiled into a report for the Allied Federation of Intergalactic Associations - with recommendations. Chicken Man, bless him, has decided he's also had enough of his own species and is going to join me on Novapulse. And yes, dear readers, that means it's over and out from me, Atyllah the Hen, Chicken with Attitude. I will not be returning to Earth and I will not be warbling on about the human condition anymore. But if you think, for just one minute, that I won't still be watching, you'll be sorely mistaken. So be afraid, be very afraid, because the entire multiverse has its eye on you. Best you be good! And do try to stop beating each other up and just play nicely. Do it for Aunt Aggie if not for yourselves.

It's been fun, but now it's done.

Peace, harmony, happiness, love, good health, joy, laughter, tranquility and, above all, enlightenment to you all.

Over and out
Atyllah the Hen

Ba-kaaaaaaak!

El Pollo Loco

She's alive, she's getting well, but she's bouncing off the walls... So says Granny Were reporting to me on Atyllah's well being.

It seems the colloquially named "Tasmanian Devil Juice" that Novapulsian physicians have had Atyllah on to combat the Human Allergic Condition is having dire side effects. It seems to have brought out that tiny streak of Wereness in Atyllah.

The Novapulsians have resultantly ordered her to a sanctuary or a retreat, I can't quite work out just what it is. There, she's supposed to take it easy. But as Granny says, "Ha, ha, on Tasmanian Devil Juice there's no chance of that - our girl will be wired to the gills! Go Atyllah!"

Yes, well...

It seems, unable to shake the destruction of trees from her mind, Atyllah has been plotting and scheming and I, for my sins, have been drawn into her machinations.

So, okay, I confess, the reason Atyllah's blog has been so quiet is that we're all bound up in trees.

For my part, I consider it a gesture to our dearly beloved Aunt Aggie - I know how much she loved to linger and meditate in the dappled shade of pines, oaks and gums. I know how much creativity she drew from them. So if I can help Atyllah to save the trees, that's what I will do.

Of course, being but a mere human, I take slightly different approach to Atyllah - and resultantly have found myself caught up in preparing a massive report for the City Fathers. Would that I had some of Atyllah's Tasmanian Devil Juice, it would certainly help move things along and rattle a few cages!

So, for all those who've been wondering, now you know. Things are busy, busy, busy and with Atyllah out of town and unable to manage this blog herself, I'm afraid things have just slipped. Please do accept my humble and groveling apologies - but let's hear it for the trees!

Yours up a tree
Chicken Man

An update on Atyllah

Good news from Novapulse! Atyllah is recovering! Novapulsian physicians and healers have been able to stem the internal bleeding and with much rest, Atyllah is starting to respond to treatment and care. Granny Were keeps me posted at least three times a day by telepathically barging into my thoughts. She says she doesn't want to run the risk of me going "native" - this, I assume, means that she's worried I'll forget all hennish enlightenment - as if I could!

Meanwhile, I've been going through Atyllah's files and documents and uncovered this piece which I don't believe she ever shared with you. So, for what it's worth, I share Atyllah's thoughts on "taxonomy"

Boxes, Little Boxes

Humanity, for some reason best known to itself, appears unduly unhappy when it cannot box things. Everything on this little planet has to be classified, numbered, ordered, categorised and neatly put in place. As though creation is a neat and orderly thing! Pah! Humans call it taxonomy and to my mind, show an unhealthy interest in making everything "just so". I mean, what's the point? What is the bloody point? All the organisms and species out there couldn't give a damn. They just quietly get on with the business of staying connected to the great cosmic energy, going about their day to day activities, feeding, finding shelter, breeding, rumbling, bubbling, gushing... - and they do a very good job of it too. They're not out there trying to make sense of something that doesn't want sense made of it in the first place. They simply are. They "be" - something, it strikes me, that human are incapable of.

It's strange, you know, this human propensity for doing. Always doing, never being. I don't know why on earth they ever called themselves human beings - should have called themselves human doings...

Of course, you may wonder what's brought this particular bent of thought to mind. It's simply this - it's that tree saving business I recently mentioned to you. Not content to let natural systems be and evolve, the particular bunch of human palookas determined to ensure the decimation of a happy little green lung in the Mugger City have decided that only certain species of flora and fauna may be allowed to grow. So-called alien specimens must go. Frankly, I find it all decidedly xenophobic - as if xenophobia wasn't already in sufficient existence on the planet and this continent. I don't suppose humans though ever stopped to consider how said alien specimens might feel about all this - especially given how they've happily adapted to their environment, put down roots, sent up spores and reared litters of young in the leaf mould... Adapted, generally speaking - something that humans like to praise themselves for, despite all contrary indications that they really loathe and detest change and disorder.

But there's just no peace and no end to the nonsense of humanity is there...
And so, along came a botanist and said, "Here historical evidence indicates the presence of Domain Y, Kingdom X, Phylum A, Class C, Species W, Subspecies H, Genus K..."
I mean who, for the Corncob's sake actually gives a damn? Okay, so the botanist and the scientist and the anthropologist and the zoologist and the etomologist and the paleontologist and the climatologist's and all the other gists who clearly have no real life of their own, do. But you know what the worst of it is, the more these people meddle and organise and collate and the more they think they know, the less they really do know. Their vision becomes so myopic that all they can see is the zit on the end of their nose. The bigger picture vanishes into eternal obscurity while the gist obsesses of the particular and grows increasingly blind to the general. Of course this narrow visions means that they completely forget the nature of well, nature. They forget the meaning and purpose of life. The wisdom they were born with withers up and dies within them. And humanity, so prone to bowing down and worshipping at the feet of its eminent gists, becomes still more and more blinkered in it's outlook. Which is why, of course, the likes of you sitting there in front of your monitor assume I must be a figment of someone's fertile imagination because no gist has ever found me or discovered a way of classifying me! Ha! Call me Atyllah the Elusive Hen!

With the whole planet neatly ordered and boxed, life becomes, thinks humanity, albeit it mistakenly, tame. Ha ha. As if life could be tamed. As if Ma Nature has any intention of ever rolling over and having her tummy tickled. Humanity would, frankly, be better off trying to tickle the tummy of a hungry (genus) Panthera (species) tigris (subspecies) tigris or play house in a volcano - provided you have of course done your homework and first classified your chosen volcano by lava chemistry, tectonic setting, size, eruptive character, geographic location, present activity and morphology.

The trouble with insisting on putting everything into little boxes is that you reduce everything to a certain, supposedly manageable, sameness - and where's the fun, the mystery and the joy of creation in that? Huh? Taxonomy simply reduces the miracle of life, death and All into sterilized pigeon holes. It's no small wonder then that so many humans have lost touch with the soul pool, the great beyond, the infinite void - it's no wonder then that they flounder around the universe, kidding themselves of course that they're not floundering - who us, no never - and happily mucking things up as they go. In its increasingly narrow thinking, all humanity has succeeded in doing is losing touch with all the innate, inner wisdom with which it initially incarnated. In short, by trying to make sense of everything all humans have done is to become horribly anally retentive. Yes it's true. And so we have the great mass of humanity sitting there hoovering up the chairs with its collective bum. Strange, really very strange. And not, I might add, a tad unconfortable and unhygienic - I mean, where has that chair been, Lucille!?

Ba-kaaaak!

Get well soon Atyllah, Farewell Aunt Aggie

The news, I'm afraid, from Novapulse is not good. Atyllah continues to ail and Aunt Aggie, showing no signs of recovery, edges closer to the other dimension and what lies beyond. Granny Were, for her own safety, has been evacuated to Novapulse where Novapulsian physicians continue to attempt to discover a cure for what has become known as the Human Allergic Condition (HAC). I am left alone in the Hen House and it is strange, after all the months in the company of the Hens, to be on my own...

I did receive a transmission via the teleportal communication system from Novapulse this morning. As Aunt Aggie stands on the edge of life, Novapulsian wise elders have been transcribing her thoughts. It appears that even in her final moments, she has had humanity in mind. The following is a transcript of Aunt Aggie's thoughts...

Humanity, poor humanity... they strive to embrace life and in doing so forget the flip side of the coin. In pursuing life, they run away from its balance - death. They believe, their very literature and religious traditions encourages them to do so, that death is something to be feared and shunned. There can be no greater mistake. For the solution to the riddle, "what is life?", is "death". It is in embracing death that humanity will in fact finally overcome its ego, it's constant search and quest, the constant doing, fighting, grabbing, raping, pillaging and plundering. They should never have called themselves human beings, but human doings. For as they seek to clutch onto life all they do is "do" - they fail to "be" - and yet that is in essence what they should be - human beings...
If only they could learn to embrace death, see it not as some undefined, black-cloaked enemy, but the great tranquility that lies entwined with arms of life. For surely, as day follows night follows day, so life follows death follows life. The continuous cycle of the soul... embraced in the concept humans call God...
In life, the human ego dominates, surging over the quietude and wisdom of the soul, forgetting the memory of the soul through a thousand incarnations... Yet the soul knows... The peace that humanity yearns for, the security, the surety, lies not in life, but in death.
As I stand here and look to the other side I see a great shining white-gold light - heaven, humans would call it - they would, in their limited constructs, be right. For the ultimate peace they seek lies in that light, in the infinite void that is death, the beyond, the soul pool, the source of all creation...
How can they fear such tranquility? It is a homecoming. Not a departure. How can they believe that all their living days they must run away from it? Why are they so unable to turn and face it, befriend it, embrace it? In doing so they would see that it is but the other side of "God's" face... They would relinquish then the ego and embrace the soul. The constant questing, striving and all the very unpleasant doings of humanity would cease to be, they would realise there simply is no point... No point in warring, harming, destroying, cheating... No point in amassing great wealth that they cannot take with them. They would realise that the realities of what they call "life" is all illusion and delusion - all constructs of the human ego... none of it real in the greater scheme of things... none of it lasting...
Being, life... would that they could know that it is not about running in fear and acquiring material possessions but that it is about the energy of the wind, the sea, the cycles of the seasons, the power of the volcano and the tsunami... that keeping in step with the elemental forces of the wisdom of nature... That is life - the simple business of feeling the wind in one's feathers... the simple business that begins and ends and begins and ends again... a rollling tide... embraced always by the white gold light of the soul... the place of pure beingness...
Ah, if only... if only humans could learn to embrace death, not to fear it, and so to set themselves free of the shackles of ego, possession and acquisition - they cannot take any of it with them... only the soul travels beyond.
All those beauty creams and anti aging potions, they all come to naught. All the wealth cannot buy eternity. One steps through the doorway, into the light, to reach eternity...
Death is heaven, life, for humanity, I fear, is hell. But so few of them realise this... and so they continue to rage and compete against one another and destroy their beautiful home... ah the fear and greed that signifies the human condition...
Dear Ones... ah dear ones... what lessons you have yet to learn...


Dear Friends of the Hens, since transcribing the above onto Atyllah's blog, I've received another transmission from Novapulse. Aunt Aggie has passed through the doors of the beyond... I am told to tell you to take comfort that her last thoughts were of you and that she smiles upon you from the other side, saying only this... "Embrace death, it is your friend, you will live better lives if you cease to be afraid of the infinite void..."

I am deeply saddened by Aunt Aggie's passing, but I have come to learn that the world as we humans see it, is just a very small thing, we, are very small things, our vision limited. There are wonders out there, beyond our comprehension, Aunt Aggie taught me that.
For now, I can only hope that my dear Atyllah will recover. Whether she will ever return to Earth remains to be seen. I somehow doubt it. The Novapulsians have been, and rightly so, alarmed by the impact of the human condition on their people. I have heard that word has been sent to recall all Novapulsians from Earth - Agent Double Cluck, Gino the Chicken, even Dumphuck McCluck and his younger brother the Ugly Phuckling who recently returned to Earth on a reprieve. I suspect our world will be the poorer for not having them with us. And without them how will we withstand Draconian influence...?

I will endeavour to keep you posted on any further developments until I receive word that this blog is to be closed.

Yours
Chicken Man

Rest in peace, dearest Aunt Aggie...

... be well soon, Atyllah.

Granny Posts - Poor Aggie

Vile humanity! Ghastly, wicked, rotten species! If I could get deal all humanity one swift, sharp peck to the jugular, I'd do so and put you out of my misery! See what you've done! Just see!

My poor dear Aggie has taken ill. Violently ill and has had to be rushed back to Novapulse suffering from a condition that can best be described as an excess of human toxicity.
Atyllah has gone with her and left me here to protect Chicken Man from all those ghastly criminal types.
What a world this is. What a species humanity is! Appalling!

The violence you wreak on one another and your planet, the rubbish you eat, the way you meddle with nature and alter your natural food stuffs by tampering with genetic coding, your sheer greed and cruelty. I swear you're nothing more than Draconian clones. It can't be otherwise.

And oh, oh, oh, my poor Aggie, she's absorbed, despite all her meditations and prayers, all your wicked poisons into her own downy body.

First her feathers started to pale and fall out. Then she complained of a sore head. Then her tummy started to trouble her. Then she started to bleed internally and double over in pain. None of her own remedies and meditations - and you know Aggie's immense strength and power - could help her. Desperate, we contacted High Command. They put the very best physicians on the case. For a while everyone was baffled and then it struck us all at once. Aggie was poisoned - by an excess of the human condition!

You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Aggie wouldn't harm a fly (even though I like to snack on them). Aggie is nothing other than goodness and light, a force for enlightenment, love and joy. And now she lies in her nest in Novapulse, tubes stuck into her, potions fed to her and Novapulse's wisest, most enlightened chickens praying over her.

Hoooooooowwwooool!

Of course, self absorbed creatures that you are, I know this will make no difference to you. You'll just say, "Shame, poor Aunt Aggie, I hope she gets better soon," and go back to painting your toe nails, feathering your nest, eating your genetically modified chicken burgers (screeeeeeeech!) and tearing your neighbour's throat out because he has oil and you don't! Oh yes, you'll muddle along on your own merry ways and not spare poor dear Aggie another thought - out of sight, out of mind - yes, that's humans. Vile, wicked, selfish species!

Ba-kaaaaaaaaak!

A note from Chicken Man:

Erm, as one human to another... I know we're not all bad and some of us are actually a lot more aware and caring than Granny would have us think... And I know many of you will be deeply concerned about poor Aunt Aggie - and so we should be. If humanity has this effect on her, what effect do you think we have on ourselves. Food for thought, eh?