page 7


An evidential exclusion
(Illusion)
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.

page 6 dreams of scenes.

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(Just move to the left you are out of focus.)
On the edge? Point of departure.
(Process of Victory.)
On traveling from town to sound with blurry memories of faces
in the 20 kilometre zone.
(Ancient Medina … the exclusion zone.)
Finding a city in love with the ghosts of its past.
(Oh I think we have all been there.)
haunted by the spectre of gas fueled guiding lights,
(and the stench of rusting infrastructure.)
Point of departure/point of lights at the end of the tunnel.
( out of focus, off your mark … set , go.)
Point of no return.
( not one step closer.)

By pram or by hand – or is it by hook or by crook?
(cheek to cheek, left foot right.)
the guiding light.
(sign post in the distance illuminated by discussion .)
Orange storage bins show the way to the back alley Broadway.
(the Gillett street jazz; times off the Thames eleven.)
This is what happens when the ends talk. Remembering the fiction
of plays.
(theatre of the absurd pen.)
long form ideas trailing off from disheveled thoughts from a coffee cup –
perhaps it really is all about style – the tyranny of sanity, this sacred language
(betrayed)

Page 5 Dreams of Scenes

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Don’t be afraid of
the unknown.
( the darkness envelopes but
does not smother, it is the true weakness of the
unhinged mind.)
The counter revolution is
in the third minds eye.
(or is it just the intuitive
imagination.)

When one has time
( boredom is a prison … a
poison coursing
through the mind.)

He
(She! ) is a lightness
of being.
( Sarte’ing over?)
No!
there is no nothing; the lack of is
still something.
( Space is inventory. Too be collected – the reassuring void soon to be filled.)
Filed away like so many others.
Don’t be afraid…
of the dark,
of the creatures that lurk under your bed at night,
( they are very real.)
of the night terrors,
( for good reason.)
of the darkness of dreams
in a machine.
(origin of the spaces.)
These are no more
or less
than dreams that fill up your void
filling the void, filing your mind with the useless detritus of the
day to day wanderings …

of travelling the world in alphabetical
order
( the new worlds order)
those limiting lines of arbitrary
frontiers.
( only colour within the lines)
dissection/ cross referenced.
On travelling the equatorial stars.
( on progressives plagiarized.)
and the blood red moon

Dreams of Scenes page 4


What if in the translation
of errors
the new diseases of time are found
to be a mistake?
(Kathmandu to Timbuktu.)
A black hole folding in on itself.
With tears in her eyes,
( I am not ready)
the out-stretched tentacle
(filth by another name.)
pulling towards the darkened
ruins.

A new dawn
(Dawn drawn and quartered for millennial admiration.)
an aberration of distorted tangents.
( Oh there we are; So where were we?)
meanwhile back on a Sommerville thing?
(Sommerville is a thing now is it?)
Sommerville is/was always
( he did exist mathematically speaking.)

A festival of … dreams flickering
out of the machine –
( it’s all so heavy – pre industrial revolutionaries.)
The strangers with a strange low
hanging about the stage left door chanting … his is day 30 or
31 of your new life…

page 4 Dreams of scenes


What if in the translation
of errors
the new diseases of time are found
to be a mistake?
(Kathmandu to Timbuktu.)
A black hole folding in on itself.
With tears in her eyes,
( I am not ready)
the out-stretched tentacle
(filth by another name.)
pulling towards the darkened
ruins.

A new dawn
(Dawn drawn and quartered for millennial admiration.)
an aberration of distorted tangents.
( Oh there we are; So where were we?)
meanwhile back on a Sommerville thing?
(Sommerville is a thing now is it?)
Sommerville is/was always
( he did exist mathematically speaking.)

A festival of … dreams flickering
out of the machine –
( it’s all so heavy – pre industrial revolutionaries.)
The strangers with a strange low
hanging about the stage left door chanting … his is day 30 or
31 of your new life…

Part 3 Dreams of Scenes

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Comment in the air
( a floating offence waiting for someone to take it.)
drifting out over the scene – or is it just the muddy Thames banks under Whitehall.
( you can just see the set.)
your in the limelight now!
( green with envy now are we? )

you can smell the separation/desperation –
or is that just the stench of 60,000 souls wandering the fields of lost dignity?
( just minor indiscretions, or so they say)
Who are they?
( throwing wind at cautionary tales of these minor indiscretions.)
Stigma Stigmata
Whose curse is this?
A monthly reminder
( weekly / daily / meekly)
crawling out of clubland cracks in the foundation
Abstractions in or of art.
Such an ill fitting mind.
Or so they say.

To be young and so full of with it indiscretions that are still to come.
This is the animated day to day; punctuated with no hope and no desires for
those cartoon renderings of what a day in the life is supposed to look like.
( dismal back of the stage life green rooms. )
a post vermilion sands
( oh so cheeky.)
Ballardian dreams of tarnished beach fronts.
( New Orleans dreams sound-tracked by Neu! )
So difficult to see set staged.
If the truth be sold.
( this day of reckoning is brought to you by Unilever.)

part two Dream of


This is part 2 so far. A short story as a play in 2 or 3 voices

A clarion call –
( too the confused by newspapers)
neatly trailing off into depression – knowing nothing / more or less it is all the same / it is all the same
it is said trailing off to be ingested –
( devouring capitalism )

Flames and contortions –
( shades of St. Vitus )
the agony within those souls wandering – lost to the ether /
(Aether)
those little insurrections
( thieves of history)
saving up time / too steal those last songs of England’s dream.
( oh now that is a little grim. )

Waiting for what comes next
( The typically tedious )
those dreary little trips the mind goes on when one gets bored.
Transgressions / depressions – those little holes – gaps in the codex –
( revealing what is not said?) ( fill it in , your history/her-story. It is all still just a story)

It adds a layer of needless abstraction – or so said the lady in black to the spider on the wall/
who looked at here like only a spider can; as if to say what’s your game girl?
( oh did you hear that a Manson reference , I didn’t now it was going to be one of those plays.)
It’s all in the Playbill… unnecessary diversions and those uncomfortable leftover letters floating away in sleepless nights –

Act EL or Eh

Sweepings – away from the factory floor –
( What? Wait this is no factory )
The movements are not fluid
( were they ever?)
Romance the dance Mechanique
( the ugly soul of humanity raises itself from the slag heap of realization .)
This is space station earth
( all aboard!)
Welcome to the Brain Drain
( it’s all downhill from here.)

Romance of/the revolution dance
( steampunked – forward – power provided by industrialization)
It’s all so very sexy – appealing don’t you think – reduced to be recycled like so much detritus being blown down the alleyways –
It’s is no wonder Mr Brown shoes with black suit fucked the economy, he can’t manage to dress himself without being in violation of the code. Makes one wonder what does the future hold?
( I’m hoping for Blade-runner.)
A rammen noodle subsistence …
( accept no substitute hippie longstockings )

I Dream of Scenes – Acting Part 2

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Acting part2

 

 

 

I wear the blood of your idols and now everything is where it should be. Here at the

Mouth

of the river. (What River?)

It is here that you will find your life’s fortune. (Failures)

 

– A dead man whispers into the palm of your hand…secrets…

and what

will you do with this? (nothing.)

The experiences of the thousands dead today – (Hosanna Hosanna Hosanna

in the highest.)

Come to the thousand dead graveyard today –

– A clarion call –

(to the confused by newspapers.)

merely trails off into depression. Knowing nothing; more or less.

It is all the same/they are all the same/ it is said ingested …

 

I dream of scenes .

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This is progress. A short story that is a play. to be read in 3 voices.

Dub House
are the lights on? – So / Pere
what is this that is happening? The stage is set … and struck?

The young man sets off on the back of a push pedal penguin – I’m late, I’m late for a very important …
trails off into the distance as a policeman with an ace up his sleeve says “isn’t that just a little too grand Alice”

Set scene now as the theatre has been emptied of all the players.

So… do you always dream in theatre scenes? –
Temple Bar –
A large black cat mumbles as it walks across the cap stone – What’s all this about, seems a little distressing that all these dreams are scenes.

Falling back to default blocking –
push pedal –
your in my light, grumbling large black cat trance … it’s the eyes … don’t watch.

Distant – Characters dissolve into – a great line of the disposable – some random act of desperation –
A performance at its most oblique they are heard to say.

Spoken / random ginger haired trundle – Can you point me in the direction of catering?
There is no catering here –
Trundling little ginger haired bundle –

Today we wash your mind –
A clean mind –
A clean little suspect – mind your own
-a happy little bundle of non-stop – you could get up and walk away – it does make for an interesting … Interruptions even during the read through.
Blocking!
Oh but such wonderful colours .

In any event – monumental –
A mental event – traction – gain – control – loss of ..
this borders on Pornography – yelling critic in the background silenced by the crowd of progressives disguised –

So off I go says the ginger haired Jeremy whom everyone thought had already wandered off to the Gloria Mundi a few doors down –
Just off the A10 –
where the modulators are –

This is the art of listening to the illusion – or perhaps not –

So far off they seem – the notes have a life of their own / fluttering off into the aether
Line!

Oh wont you come dance with me under the moonlight we shall dance beside the quay – These are the illusions of fallen angels –
Your kiss’ taste like cancer
come dance with me little urchin of the streets and come watch the self -indulgent excess.
The mass strangulation –
the always in a hurry. To create the paperwork that justifies their existence –

A portable masterwork –
I am – We are – Wait… We are not those who wait…

So tell me Pere what is behind those eyes?
A storm?
A controversy?
Nothing?
A blank –
the deep dead past holds no surprise / Just a fraked out hole in the exclusion zone clearly marked
“Here lies the death of conversation” – Come, step up across the border/it is as beautiful as an amputation –
Stage direction – This is the final run through Sister Sunshine –

dreams of scenes ( in progress)


Dub House
are the lights on? – So / Pere?
what is this happening? The stage is set … and struck?

The young man sets off on the back of a push pedal penguin – I’m late, I’m late for a very important…trails off into the distance as a policeman with an ace up his sleeve says to no-one “isn’t that just a little too grand Alice?”
Set scene now as the theatre has been emptied of all the players.

So now do you always dream in theatre scenes? -Temple Bar – a large black cat mumbles as it walks across the cap stone – What’s all this about, seems a little distressing that all these dreams are scenes.

Falling back to the default blocking – push pedal – your in my light, grumbling large black cat trance … it’s the eyes … don’t watch.

Dissonant characters dissolve into – a great line of the disposable – some random act of desperation – performance art at its most oblique