Act 3 ?




Dances in treacle –
Doubting Thomas –
Jeffersonian and the art of eclipses
( sprinkled here and there,)

Dances in that dismal night
of rain and fog – The
Songs of the Madonna without her squares –
The Godhead/figurehead
( figure/ground)
Joyceian waltz on the unstable shores –
Diminished memories – of
the 40 years before sleeping together .
Figurehead – Godhead –
Diminished memory of the
40 years –
Anguished – turmoil and the
Black arts in September – the unshakable
Belief in the unassailable right of those
Left –

You have a lot of padding there –
Like a whale – it must keep you warm in colder climates –
A ginger haired boy to the hair of a dog ( capitalist fraud or animal?)

Historical memory is a casualty of
Corporate media – Can you (we) make these old mummies dance?
– on graves – ( yours or mine?)


page 11 dreams of scenes


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Pick a date at random; remember
the anniversary.
( do you Clicy? )
the D’evolutions
( of the mind – of the body – thee soul. )
Do you Clichy?
Have you Gestalt – Do you do the
Situationist two-step?
( have you heard the words? Building up walls?)

These are the last days – exploration –
( Lewis and Clarke’s Nova Expedition.
A pending psychosis fair for the disposable –
where and when the words join together in a cancerous collusion.

Forever and ever as some of them say
( a creation story by definition – a sin … a lie told to tow the line – keep in line – )
walk this way –
(the slaughter awaits – )
a straight answer awaits those with the correct questions –

Kick down those doors of that reality studio –
I wait and wait for another Black September –
( remembering that on an evening in November -)
The needed terrors –
( these numbers do not add up -)

So there is nothing left here but ruins
( and a sickness that runs in rivers of blood -)

page 10 dreams of scenes


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Of these –
The dollar rich yet morally bankrupt –
( the new moral majority with fresh MBA’s)
So this is the shock of the new –
( conspicuous consumption is the new! ?)
Rebellions of yesteryear are today’s commodity.
(punk really was nothing more than the marketing of Vivianne
Westwood as pure nihilistic rebellion.)

The street will always find its own –
( lingering along the A10 – a high street compared to the A1A –

This section has been redacted –
( so; just going to stand there.)
Just going to stand here; yes would you rather I broke into a rousing reading of End Game? Well I would rather not. So think of this as 3’33” by John Cage.
This section has been redacted and an F.O.A. has been submitted to the appropriate department (Or so he/she(?) says – forgotten lines equal desperate times. )

The curtain calls …

So the doctor said as he hung up the severed head.
(multiple atrocities reminiscent )
Vivisection considered as an uphill bicycle race ? –
As the rain falls … Is it even possible to justify?
(The serial experiment of the post-human project.)
Subject/s to change
The curtain calls –
( your name)
Watch your mark –
That dreadful sound as the night surrounds –
( have you heard it all before?)
An infinite loop –
Children playing –
Yet lost in the war on culture.

The dreadful sound of night closing in –
( on offer – a guided tour for the soulless – get a first hand look at the insurrection-)

dreams of scenes page 9


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Even the bride stripped of
her descending staircase –
( a case of mixed up media?)
a visual representation of sound
Multidimensional –
reflections of light –
( an included delusion)
those angry words re-imagined as a

There is no cure for this
( a deviant in the Sondheim society.)
A fragment of fragrance reminds …
not to die but to become the soul – the terrified self
looking back – reflections of the self.
(Forever the ever.)
Lasting in
an attempt to write my way out of the
raging storm.

The long awaited arrival –
-Pilot –
Waiting now for his/her (?)
Chance meeting –
Typewriters waiting on the dissection table –
(in extremis )
Rising up – against it all.
( the red army erection.)

Pissing through our is it in
Cleopatra’s needle.
( re-setting historical regrets)
Later rather than the Here and Now
(Regretting the Historic Post-Modernist future self.)

re write of page 8

Inarticulate translations to follow…

A ginger haired boy…

(what of him; he is a ghost from the past.)

Times on the Thames and the staggering crimes.

( all along the deafening A 10.)

I have seen the sleeping graves

that seem to cry ot;

Where are the Immortal ones!

Have they all gone off into the great Wilde?

Too frolic in the fields of the lost?

Only the tombs remain; open to interpretation, open to the discussions

of academics and amnesiacs

(Verse… All those years ago.)

Shadows of the Vatican.

These are the voices that called out in crime.

( the alleged, the accused, the acquitted.)

In ivory towers standing still above the shrill.

(A mocking tribute.)

Yes Blind baby does have it’s mothers eyes –

I am that grey haired invention

( a misery at first.)

one look… one left – a turn of the dial.

( do you remember those things?)

one turn of that dial for a once in a side – a psychedelic ride.

( an advertisement for the unknown mysteries of the soul.)

Trusted by millions this savage (dis)grace, guided by the moon an mood;

the madness of human folly.

( the giggling insanity.)

the archangels foll.

(all played out live for pataphysical enjoyment.)

A side trip – on a once in a lifetime…

( an inconvenient verb hangs in the air just waiting to be plucked.)

Dreams of Scenes page8

(Inarticulate translations to follow…)
A ginger haired boy (what of him?
a ghost from the past.)
The times on the Thames and those staggering times along the A10.
All those years ago ( time is sure fun )
I have seen those sleeping graves that seem to cry out;
Where are thr immortal ones?
Have they all gone off to the great Voltarian Wilde?
Only their caskets remain; open to interpretation.
Open to the discussions of academics and anaemics.
All those years ago.

The voices cried out in crime. ( the alleged, the accused, the acquitted.) while those in
ivory towers stand. ( No justice , no peace chants rise up above the deafening and shrill sound of silence. ) A mocking tribute.

Yes Blind Baby does have it’s Mothers Eyes .

-I am that grey haired invention-

one left –
A turn of the dial. ( oh do you remember them?)
One turn of the dial for a side psychedelic ride.
(an advertisement for the mysteries of the soul.)
Trusted by millions this savage (dis)grace.
Guided by mood, the moon, and the madness of human folly.
(that giggling insanity.)
The arch-angels folly (played out live for pataphysical enjoyment.)

A side trip – on a once in a lifetime …
(An inconvenient verb hangs in the air just waiting to be plucked.)

activity update

Have been reading “Grind” by S. Bateman and am editing ” Stewart” the musical by L.S. Johnson

A review of Stuart Bateman’s novel will be coming soon,  work as prevented me from finishing this wonderful book earlier  ( if you are requiring a stagehand , theatre or music please let me know )  and have now started the editing process of L.S. Johnsons work  ( a terrific read by the way) it will make a great Musical

additions and edits to page 7


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An evidentiary exclusion
Dismissed as just the ramblings
Of an altered mind. (We all worship in our own way)

Oh What if?
(Vladimir and Godot met over there by the swing sets café’s on hand.)
There it is; the set-up for a night of theatrical grooves.
(Singing, swinging, and well just saying.)
That cat things happen so easily to cats? Every day they are cats. Every day cat things happen and generally cats dislike other cats for a number of reasons.
(The absolute sketch of the perfect sound?)
Purring if only they had thumbs.
A testament to the misery.
(Cats and other cronies.)
Cat things happen not just too cats or so I have heard.
Cat – alogues – of the blinded third eyes – the enveloping sadness at the realization – There are no push pedal penguins there is just cats who are not equipped with opposable thumbs.
(So no slow boat.)

I am not a charity he was overheard (No no-one in particular, no no-one at all.) Saying I am the greatest hoax performed in one act.
This theatre of the distracted, the disturbed, the waiting wanting that never ever goes the way (you think, you are.) A distanced one track, an uncomfortable climb. Too the mountain top (too look upon the grand fraud?) be that as it may? (Or to take or leave.) One has to wonder why? Too stand here (or sit) and ponder (what of it?) The mountain top; this grand monument of crap we have built for ourselves – slowly sinking in a miasma of contradictions and deceit (sounds like politics too me)
The decline of detractors, (oh just sit back and enjoy the ride or not, just enjoy the stagnation…don’t rock that boat.) Don’t cry out for revolution (they’re all just some fuckers) Call out for evolution (is it time to grow; up or out?)