RANDOM THRILL:

The crowd closes around me on the street. A woman I’ve
never met comes up close, talks gentle in my ear,
“Hello Darling” then disappears.

Listening to Sun Ra & his Arkestra – ‘In the Orbit of Ra‘

(K)

TODAY:

Remembered not forgotten.

(K)

TAKING THE EDGE OFF:

After hours, in a deserted side-street, a lone travel agent
taps the keys. Door locked, lights off, grinning as he leans
into the glow of the screen in an England football shirt.

(K)

STILL IN LOVE WITH CARTOON OWL:

Slipped un-noticed through grinning crowds,
tens of thousands of skimpies, a wide-eyed flood
faced me down as I returned to our luxury bus from
luxury food with a 60’s twist. The chill backstage
in contrast to the chill wind that bit as I slipped
though the skin of a giant metal party box,
into the night, an alley between the truck & bus
reminding me of darker times a long way from tonight.
Then into the light & heat & laughter of a magnificent
Austrian cruiser. Tucked myself away alone with Johnny Cash
singing songs from the Sun years. Lost myself for two hours
in reverb & simplicity, dark stories delivered in chocolate.
Now these stage clothes feel wrong tonight since those I wore
at that last sublime gathering on the South Bank. They felt
like the future, these feels like cold memory, wrapped up &
delivered in a metal box on a bleak night a long way from a
new groove.
But I saw smiles & I saw hands in the air & I heard screams of
joy, this west midland retrogressive thought is just a late
night sty. The good energy is still there in waves, rushes back
& forth between us, Rick drops the groove & eyes light up, the
kick-drum’s still my dealer.

(K)

BOUNCE & WIGGLE:

Through the midnight hole beneath the sea, the rails,
the steely twins that carry us away from the island
into the opens arms of Techno’s children. The noises
from the bunks below, the grunts, the mumblings
& guttural blubblings, the smells that rise, the
trainer honk, the bodies hid behind drawn curtains for
their personal unspoken odours. Dishwash & rice milk
for solitary moment snatched before the sleepers awake.
A magazine I’d never read on any other day. Parked up
round the back in shadow for a chill wind hidden from the
sun, beneath towering slabs of industrial metals shedding
skins from age, Two thin yellow cables drip down from
the sky to disappear into the black hole mouth of a
gaping factory – cathedral of groove. Scrub your body
in the hotel, lock the door for a silent moment, step out
into the sun & smile, a phone is ringing. Food & food &
food & food & photograph everything that sets a fire, save
it up, take it away till some later day when all that you’re
surrounded is familiar for miles & nothing catch your
hungry eye – tired but alive.

(K)

ES-175:

A busker boy is shredding in a doorway with a priceless guitar,
clouds of butterfly bicycle bells thread between elephantine
buses, loaded with stupefied night shoppers hungry to part
with money.

listening to the breezy French of ‘Ex-Futur Album‘

(K)

WHAT’S ON THE END OF YOUR ARM?

I see a man walking down the street, filming himself
on his cell phone. Arm outstretched for the full effect.

Listening to Supersilent 12

(K)

IMAGINARY SCREENWORLD REALITY WOMAN:

The Lady on TV offers me stylish violence.
How can I refuse, her voice is so seductive?

(K)

MAC ATTACKED ME:

Had the Mac Attack today, it stole my soul & left me
wanting more. It’s a fabulous machine in all it’s wonders,
can break a man with the simplest of functions.
The Angels of the Mac descend upon me laughing,
snatch away my coms & keyholes. All my doors
are locked & every knock I give is wrong.
The Mac is a vicious animal, it lulls me into believing
it’s my friend, offers me happiness, access to all the
wonders of the universe & beyond, will even look after
all my precious, then one day bare it’s teeth. It used
to be a placid tool, it used to be so simple, now it’s
a fashion accessory, now it wants ALL of me. Join the
tribe, be one of us, happy smiling faces run through
meadows of blossom code, the road takes me to Stepford,
Pass the gingham, I feel an upgrade coming on.

(K)

EIGHTY FIVE GRAND MAN:

You proper smashed it, you weren’t takin’ no chances!
93rd minute rescue, don’t every change your style.

(K)