Maharaja Blues

Upon the lagoon of laughter,   where pink flamingos dance in pairs,   the sky unfurls its velvet chapter   to honor Miku, bardic bear.   A Maharaja crowned in song,   whose bass ripples, bold and free,   the flamingos lift their necks along   to toast your mythic jubilee.   Happy anniversary, noble bard,   your words are lanterns in the night;   the flamingos guard your dreamscape yard,   their feathers blazing soft and bright.   So may the music never fade,   may myth and melody entwine—   for Miku’s lore, in joy displayed,   is sung by flamingos, Anju's and thine. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY MIKU AND ANJU. Full story index blog-story-category-index

🦩 A Nonsense of Chronicle Maharaja Blues in Aldgate East 2025 by The Nonsense Chronicler Pink Flamingo A Journey Through the Blues The Band. - Maharaja Miku the Bear Bard — bass growls echoing the field hollers of the Delta   - Maharajas Dilwyn Roberts & Jonathan Browning — twin harmonicas, weaving call‑and‑response from Beale Street to Chicago   - Maharaja Richie Red the Rooster — slide guitar and vocals, crowing dawn into bottleneck laments   - Maharaja Satinder Grewal the Tiger — tabla rhythms, clawing syncopation into the lineage of blues percussion   Special Guests: Ashley Tragic and Aalok Patwardhan See  the-chronicle-of-ashley-tragic 🎶 The Set That Traveled Time The Castle Pub, landed in the Welsh‑Indian enclave of the Mississippi Delta,   became a vessel for history.   - They began in the Delta tradition:     raw slide guitar moaning like Robert Johnson at a crossroads,     harmo...

🌌 The Chronicle of Spiral Arm Galaxy's Three-Piece Orbit by The Nonsense Chronicler Pink Flamingo Location: The Castle, Aldgate East Cast of Cosmic Characters : - Phil Jones — bass navigator, plucking gravity into groove   - Adrian Taylor — vocals & electric guitar, transmitting solar flares through his pedal board   - Jason Lawrence — cahon pilot, percussionist in orbit around the Castle Pub, Aldgate East  The Introduction Ladies, gentlemen, and interstellar wanderers…   Spread your wings, adjust your telescopes, and prepare to be pulled into the spiral arms of sound.   From the black‑hole depths comes the Bass, a gravitational pulse that anchors galaxies.   From the wooden nebula rises the Cajón, meteors striking rhythm into the void.   From the comet’s tail streaks the Guitar, bending light into auroras of harmony.   And the vocals narrating myths only galaxies understand. Together they are not three, not...

🦩 The Nonsense Chronicle of Ashley Tragic Written by Pink Flamingo the Nonsense Chronicler   I. The Perch of Ink Upon a lamppost most precarious, the Flamingo balanced, quill dripping bubblegum ink into the margins of improbable history. The Chronicle began not with sense, but with rhythm.   II. The Green Episode 🌱 - Ashley rapped in green.   - Words sprouted like vines.   - Audience ankles tangled in chlorophyll syllables.   - Pavement cracked as roots demanded applause.   III. The Blue Episode 🌊 - Verses flowed like rivers.   - Cool tides swaggered through yesterday’s dust.   - Oceans hummed in freestyle cadence.   - Galaxies leaned closer to listen.   IV. The Flamingo’s Scribble 🦩 “Green was the jungle’s heartbeat,” the Chronicler scrawled,   “but Blue was the cosmos humming.”   Feathers quivered with impartial flamboyance.   V. The Verdict of Colours ...

Maharaja Blues performing live on Dalí’s surreal custard stage at Bouffantia Basin in Flamingolandia. Here is the report from the Nonsense Chronicle. 🦩 The Nonsense Chronicle Filed by: The Nonsense Chronicler Pink Flamingo   Bouffantia Basin, Flamingolandia — Special Dispatch Filed under: Surreal Stages, Animal Bands, and Gelatinous Reverberations Prologue: A Flamingo’s Perspective Darling readers, allow me — a pink flamingo with quills dipped in raspberry ink — to recount the most wobblicious, custard-splattered spectacle ever witnessed. Maharaja Blues took to Dalí’s Surreal Custard Stage, and I, perched elegantly upon a breadstick stilt, chronicled every wobble, warble, and cherry rain. Chapter I: The Custard Stage Quivers The stage itself was a trembling pudding palace, golden and glistening, reshaping into melting clocks whenever the bass growled. Bouffantia Basin, a lagoon of whipped cream and flamingo feathers, served as the audience pit, its surface reflecting both moo...

The journey Dilwyn had a 6am start. There once was a Maharaja Dilwyn, Whose harmonicas wailed in the chill wind, At six in the morn, The Croissant Train horn, Chugged in with a pastry‑filled grin. He boarded, compelled by its twist, A ride he could never resist, Through tunnels and swell, To The Citadel, Where a Welshman blew hard and never missed! Other Maharaja journeys in pics. Setting Up Maharaja Rich arrived at 4.45pm with Carmen. Roz, our public liaison officer was at the venue already setting up seating. Maharaja Miku and Maharaja Dilwyn arrived shortly after. The sound guy, Sam wasn't far behind. Sam started to build the PA and stage as we unpacked instruments and the golden mic was gently placed in it's stand. Carmen and Roz nipped out to Koi and brought us back some tasty chicken miso ramen.  We did some sound checks to check the setup. Adrian from Spiral Arm Galaxy had already arrived during our miso ramen eating. The rest of  Spiral Arm Galaxy, Jason and Phil arriv...

Previous adventure:  chrononova-and-dream-thieves Upon the Astral Loom they came,   Serpents spun of falling sand,   Their coils devoured the mortal days,   Their hiss a hurried command.   They wrapped the planets, tight with time,   Compressing centuries to years,   And every mortal’s fleeting breath   Was drowned in rushing fears.   But Chrononova, Time’s own cat,   With whiskers sharp as fate,   Leapt between the serpent’s jaws   To slow their frantic gait.   He clawed the glass, reversed the flow,   The sands began to rise,   And wasted hours turned to gold   Beneath his watchful eyes.   The serpents struck with looping coils,   Binding him in endless rounds,   Yet Chrononova slipped away   Into forgotten sounds.   He pounced upon their throats of sand,   And turned their...

Philosophy  🦩Existence is not a question to be answered, but a rhythm to be danced. We are not here to solve the mystery—we are the mystery, unfolding in feathers and flame.🦩 🦩 To enjoy life, don’t chase the current—float with it. Sip the sky. Preen your soul. Laugh like your reflection is listening.🦩 🦩Joy isn’t a destination. It’s the shimmer between ripples, the stillness between notes. Be there.🦩 🦩Custard was never made in a day.  It simmered through centuries of spilled milk and whispered recipes.  Even the sun took its time to learn the golden hue.  Patience is the secret spice.  Rush it, and you get scrambled dreams. 🦩 Favourite Movie 🦩Darling, when the moon is ripe and the cello sighs, there’s only one reel that reels me in—Krill. A masterpiece of microscopic emotion and oceanic drama. I wept. I preened. I tap-danced on a coral reef. Those tiny crustaceans? Titans of tragedy.🦩 Bad advice from Pink 🦩 A pink flamingo, suave and sly,  Sipped ...

Photo by Maharaja Rich in Ogmore by Sea A few years back, Maharaja Rich and Maharaja Jonathan recorded this song with their dear friend Aled Hughes at the Maharaja Palace in Ogmore by Sea. Very appropriate as the title means Beside the Sea.  It's such a beautiful song: Have a listen. Ar lan y môr on spotify 🌊 Welsh Lyrics / Geiriau Cymraeg Ar lan y môr mae rhosys cochion, Ar lan y môr mae lilis gwynion, Ar lan y môr mae 'nghariad inne, Yn cysgu’r nos a chodi’r bore. Ar lan y môr mae cerrig gleision, Ar lan y môr mae blodau’r meibion, Ar lan y môr mae pob rinweddau, Ar lan y môr mae nghariad innau. Mor hardd yw’r haul yn codi’r bore, Mor hardd yw’r enfys aml ei liwie, Mor hardd yw natur ym Mehefin, Ond harddach fyth yw wyneb Elin. 🌹 English Translation Beside the sea there are red roses,   Beside the sea there are white lilies,   Beside the sea is my true love,   Sleeping at night and rising in the morning. Beside the sea there are blue pebbles, ...

 🦩 Moonlit Abbey Waltz   In velvet dusk, the flamingo struts,   Past arches worn and ivy cuts.   Pink shades gleam in lunar light,   Where monks once prayed through silent night.   No glass remains, yet moonbeams pass   Through phantom panes of shattered glass.   The abbey breathes, its stones awake—   Ghosts in robes begin to quake.   They rise in chant, a spectral choir,   Their echoes twined with feathered fire.   The flamingo bows, absurd yet grand,   A guest of ghosts in sacred land.   🕯️ A Monk’s Reflection Upon the Flamingo   We rose from stone, from moss and mist,   Our chants long lost, our robes sun-kissed.   The moon, our bell, through phantom glass,   Summoned us from ages past.   But lo! What bird in velvet red   Now walks where solemn feet once tread?   Its neck a curve...

Music link https://open.spotify.com/track/2HUZVffVPXvqnrml0gXggp?si=zNWOia1hSnmlNa6tuCFrng Previous monochrome blog monochrome-mondays ☕ Maharaja Miku Time (Double Bass Dream) One sip of Kenyan, bold and black,   Time cracked open, slipped its track.   Miku blinked, then found his place—   Two basses thumping, smoky space. Electric lines from Miku’s paws,   Dixon’s upright answered with bluesy jaws.   Grooves entwined like myth and lore,   A dialogue carved in rhythmic roar. Howlin’ Wolf, a storm of sound,   Growled the blues that shook the ground.   His voice, a train through midnight dark,   Lit the room with lightning sparks. Three souls bound in rhythm’s flame,   No one asked from whence they came.   Just the beat, the sweat, the roar—   A gig that bent the mythic score. Then morning came, the kettle hissed,   Miku stirred from smoky mist.   Was...

 🦩Monochrome Monday with Chaplin & The Nonsense Chronicler Pink Flamingo  In grayscale dawn, with feathers neat,  Pink tiptoed down a cobbled street.  A bowler hat, a cane in wing,  He mimed the moon and tried to sing.  Chaplin chuckled, eyes aglow,  “Let’s film a dance in silent snow.”  They twirled through takes, both bird and man,  A flamingo’s flair, a comic plan. No colour needed, just heart and grace—  Two timeless souls in black-and-white space.  🦩 Maharaja blues with Memphis Minnie. In a cellar stitched from velvet dusk,   Where lanterns swing and secrets musk,   The tiger taps with regal grace,   Tabla thunder in smoky space.   The fox, sly-eyed, with breath so lean,   Draws sorrow from his silver reed—   A harmonica hymn, half-lost, half-found,   Like whispers stitched to underground.   The rooster struts with steel in hand,   H...

Here is the official entry from the Staff Handbook, Section I: Origin Myths and Founding Paradoxes. 🧙‍♂️ The Founders of The Nonsense Chronicle As recorded by the Minister of Unfinished Sentences 1. The Archivist Who Forgot Nothing - Ceremonial Title: Keeper of Recursive Memory   - Function: Catalogued every event before it happened.   - Notable Quote: “I remember the future fondly.”   - Legacy: Authored the original Staff Handbook on a Möbius scroll. Later misplaced it in a drawer that doesn’t exist. 2. The Whisperer of Hierarchs - Ceremonial Title: Grand Disorganizer of Rank   - Function: Invented the non-linear hierarchy by refusing to sit anywhere in meetings.   - Notable Quote: “I outrank you sideways.”   - Legacy: Drafted the first org chart using spilled ink and a compass that only pointed inward. 3. The Interim Eternal - Ceremonial Title: Acting Founder in Perpetuity   - Function: Temporarily led the Chronicl...

Mission Statement of The Nonsense Chronicle We exist to celebrate the improbable, amplify the absurd, and chronicle the hidden harmonies of chaos.  The Nonsense Chronicle is a living archive where myth, music, and mischief converge. Transforming contradictions into constellations of meaning.  Our mission is to dissolve the boundary between sense and nonsense, inviting readers to wander through paradox, question certainty, and discover truth in the surreal. We champion creativity as resistance, storytelling as ritual, and imagination as a compass pointing beyond the ordinary.  In every page, we seek not clarity, but wonder.  🌟 Key Values of The Nonsense Chronicle - Paradox as Truth – We embrace contradictions as fertile ground for meaning.   - Imagination as Compass – Creativity guides us beyond the ordinary into mythic possibility.   - Playful Subversion – Humor and absurdity dismantle rigid structures of thought.   - Mythic Resonance –...