Back in the season of time

Back in the season of time, clocks chimed, lovers rhymed in the synchronistic universe. You clocked in, clocked out and clocked up the miles.Then time disappeared, blank empty space, no appointments, no past, love lost in the abyss, curling towers of mist. Love was a diminishing chord strummed into submission. Time played fast and loose and all meaning fooled itself. Out of chaos, a drum beat, out of nothing a breathy voice, on the beat an organ seasoned by a timely song..

Trev Teasdel

The Belching Bars of Burlesque

The Belching Bars of Burlesque

Here, in the blank space of a status update there was nothing to express. Sheer emptiness of mind, indifference. Huge skyscrapers were falling asleep on their feet, heads drooping 'neath the snoring moon. It was at this time the Pixels came out, somewhat pixelated, picking their way through the trash-cans of throw-away politics, through the Tinkerbell fountains of neon light, through the belching bars of burlesque in the embolden bay of Risque. The night was counting up the stars in the spent tills of wasted time and the yellow cabs drove flawed, fictional characters into the wild outskirts of banished novellas. The Aliens of course, were there in the background, flashing their splashing lights, abducting the cash-machines of failed public policy. But here, in the blank space of status, where spelling mistakes conspire against all whispering pens, a yawn was heard in the corridor of power and lies were wired once again to twittering morning tabloids.

Outer Reaches

Out of reach on the outer reaches, snow clad mountain, gray faced sky, away from the madness of a cold heart world with ice-capped policies and poison wars, I felt that space within. No warm hearth, no smiling mirror, the world turned slush, the world turned trash. Upon high, without a signal, people spoke in frozen voices. I zipped my coat, pulled up my hood and did the only thing I could. Out of reach, upon high, no mobile signal, no laptop lover and the newsrooms under cover. In a world of lies, I spoke a truth, cried for justice, laughed for hope and loved in vain. Out of reach, out of touch, the world was spinning like this song.

Trev Teasdel

Hotel Perfection

I walked into Hotel Perfection, saw my Quantum clone looking back at me."How do you do this stuff?" I said "I mean, me, I fumble my way through the dark, try not to take a wrong turning, but it's hard to be perfect without a map." He took me into the Multiverse Lounge, there were a lot of lookalikes in that room, all doing different stuff but looking similar. "Perfection takes time" He said " it's not achieved in a single lifetime, you have to work through stuff, and it's not easy - mistakes are for learning." I didn't feel any easier about it and poured myself some humility. He said "Sometimes we hurt people we don't mean to and we can't turn back the clock". He gave me a tour of this Learning Workshop he called the multiverse, but, it didn't help, I still felt out of place in Hotel Perfection!

By Trev Teasdel

http://educateinspirechange.org/science-technology/quantum-theory-proves-consciousness-moves-another-universe-death/

Power-Chord Primate

I was born to be wild, a wild thing running free, a bowler-hatted Steppenwolf on the steep Steppes of Santa-Anyplace. I rode a six string saxophone with a leftfield pickup truck, swinging in the trees and looking to get lucky. A power-chord primate with intuitive ignition, I radioed my intentions intensly. I was Lay Lady Lay in a lay-by near Las Lascivious fretting over her laid-back arpeggios. Nothing makes sense in a wild town, you have invent all your own meanings and feed them back down, town to town. I wasn't born to be understood, I peeled the fruit of life on the run. Outside Sacramento we were Monkey Magnifico, our amps ran off with the lost chord of the planet and the audience were torn between ovation and disgust. Well that's rock n roll for ya!!

Words and music by Trev - 

Metal Version

Poetry -music version

Image that inspired the piece - The real rock stars by birubadut

Stir Crazy and Sally Risqué

Stir Crazy walked out of an unpublished novel, sat in the bar with other disgruntled borderline characters and just stared at the wall. Sally Risqué came from behind the bar and slouched next to him."You look crazy" she said "I was in a bad sex novel - the author won an award ffs, how bad is that!". Sally 'laughed out loud' and sat in front of him, "You look ok though, what's your story?" "That's it" said Stir, "there was no story, just a bunch of wasted wank - I just got board and crept out!". 

Sally sat back down and he noticed her invisible bra "You know one day you got you're whole life mapped out in a book - it may be mundane but it's something and I didn't have much to say, but once you get free from its mediocrity, there's not even a plan.". 

Sally was stirred by his self deprecation and poured herself another beer. "You know", she said, "It's Sunday, why don't we just skip the plot and move directly towards the climax!"

 Stir, wasn't used to such short cuts and put another tune on the juke box..."Didn't we meet before" he quizzed "back in some pre-literary life?". Just then the singer stepped in with a crazy bunch of musicians. It sounded like he had something to say...

by The Poet Reprobate.

Big Joe, Little Toe

Well Big Joe, Little Toe had a drop-in, drop out, far out canyon cafe with the magnificent minions of mistletoe opinions. Life is rough when you voice is gruff and the world is someone's oyster on the run. A far flung, highly strung, well hung guitar was dancing in the kitchen. Big Joe, potato peeler, rocking reeler, paying his dues, singin' them blues down the hypotenuse. Things were just alright or never right or a half turn left or just plain wrong. Nonetheless he just carried on playing...

Text by Trev Teasdel

Down Our Street - Trev Teasdel and the Nerve

This collaboration was set up by Steve Thompson (Songwriter and Community Media Manager) in 2006 online. Tyneside band The Nerve, known for their humour / satire, punk / Lou Reed style branched out in to Trance for this number, taking a lyric / poem I'd written and put it to music. As with the Jim Pryal collaborations, the video doesn;t feature the complete lyric / poem which is placed below, but was fun to do.

This piece combines trance, sound effects, poem and a playlet - the two protagonists have a 'domestic' over Shepard's Pie in the background! Featuturing Una Luna on backing vocals and playlet.Enjoy!



(c) Craney, Teasdel and Thompson.

DOWN OUR STREET

by Trev Teasdel 2006

Down our street the men bugger off

Leave the kids in the trough.

So the wives sleep around

With everyone in town

So now they’re all related

To people that they hated

Things are really neat

Down our Street.

Down our street

The neighbourhood watch is always alert,

Reporting crimes and digging up dirt.

And the gossips write a novel

About each and every hovel

And their kids have shady eyes

Even the police are streetwise to their lies

And the Sheep Don’t bleat

Down our Street.

Down our Street

They’ll scratch your car and steal your fence

Then have the gall to ask for 50 pence.

Their garden hops never stop

With invisible cloaks to fool the cops

They say they’ve got nowt to do

Smoking ganga up a chimney flue

They never miss a beat

Down our street.

Down our Street

The men are doing up old bangers

Their garages look like airplane hangers

They are black with oil and stink of toil

And the engines never seem to go

They’d be better off with a boat to row

You need a licence for your feet

Down Our Street.

Down our street

The council are never seen

If they lived here they’d go green

If you complain they don’t know what you mean

They spend all the money on Bell Air Green

The council say it’s not their scene

Acknowledging this estate will spoil their dream

We’re chaff and they’re wheat

Down our street.

Down our Street

It’s a crop circle situation

People don’t want this aggravation

But they start up hostilities

If you suggest giving the kids facilities

The council are no hoper's

They won’t confront the contradictions of their voters

Absurdity can’t be beat

Down our Street.

Culture Fuzion - Poems and Trance Music - Jim Pryal and Trev Teasdel

Culture Fuzion

Culture Fuzion was a collaboration between long-standing Coventry drummer / producer Jim Pryal and Coventry lyricist / performance poet Trev Teasdel c 2007

Jim has been in many Coventry bands since the 60's including  Wandering John, Hot Snacks (Coventry Ska Band - replacing former Specials drummer Silverton), Roddy Radiation 's band, Just Before Dawn, Stiletto and many more. More recently he has worked on producing various musical projects involving Trance and electronic music. This collaboration saw Jim building exciting musical tracks around 3 performance poems by Trev Teasdel (me) involving his music and my voice and words. These can be found on My Space - Culture Fuzion HERE - 

https://myspace.com/41094205/music/songs

There are three tracks on here : - 

• Melissa's Garden
• Stereophonic London
• Nightfall in Sorrento

Lyrics below - 

MELISSA'S GARDEN

Trev Teasdel Aug 1998,

Tiger eyes that mesmerise

The Fireflies of her thighs.

Misty sighs - sensitise

Alcamize love's butterflies.

(Chorus I)

Come on down to Melissa's Garden

Love and light down in the garden.

In the garden, love is growing,

She leads the way by the seeds she's sowing.

She's an archimage from another age

Runic spells fly off her page

Come to free us from our maze,

And open up the celestial age.

Bridge..

You won't believe what you see

When you see the way Melissa sees.

The world you see is on an odyssey

Through policy and prophecy

In the embassy of fantasy

You can peek her pantisocracy.

Chorus 2

Come on down to Melissa's Garden

Love is flowing in the garden

In the garden lights are glowing

She shows the way with her deeper knowing.

So leap-frog with the underdog

And liven up those sand-hogs

In a deep clog there's a hang-dog

In dialogue with a pedagogue.

Moonbeams on the millstream

Reflect upon the big screen.

There's a sunbeam in the airstream

Shining on our new dreams.

....................

STEREOPHONIC LONDON 
Trev Teasdel 2006

Sleazy inner city sounds
Skateboarding compounds with stereo surrounds
Swishbar stances - gravitating gangsters
Sidewinder glances.

Razorlight floodgates
Redlight night flights
Tempting the Thames to take off its shawl
For the urban sprawl.

 Budvar rattlesnakes
A screech of brakes in the circle of spheres
Where the past appears
In the passion plays of parliament
Where the harlots are bent to pay the rent
Their rosebud lips, their tight-rope slips
Their clips and bits
inspire
the phallacies of policies
but money never grows on trees.

 Cos The world’s in a mess
The truth’s been undressed
Has a lie to confess
But were walking the dog back to happiness.

 It’s an absurd world where the third world
Have no food in the larder
It gets harder and harder
While the groove armada
Play the music harder
Keep it solid but the world is squalid

They sell the world with sex
Free air time and texts
So politically correct
Paranoid and indirect
Their bad decisions
tunnel visions - revisions and isms
Did they plan it to be off the planet?

 But we’re walking the dog back to happiness
There’s a lie to confess, the truth to undress
This world’s in a mess, uptight with the stress.

Cheapdate bed-ins & Hotsnake weddings
Women seeking women in the cocktail inns
We are sat by the fire in the house of desire
Ignoring the Karma and the claims of Nirvana

 Wide-eyed promoters sat on a lotus
Under the spell of San Miguel
The filament looters on fly-by scooters
Seek the meaning of life in their gel
Reality bites
On midwinter nights
Chill out
And go with the flow.

 Cause we have to confess, the worlds in a mess
We’re walking the dog back to happiness
There’s a lie to digest and all the rest
We’re walking the dog back to happiness.

.......................

NIGHTFALL IN SORRENTO

Trev Teasdel 2006

Sorrento -

The Communion of the urban puzzle

Where elegance is attitude

The fashion club of the urban groove

Eco-driven citizens

In slender tones of mobile silence

Nocturnal spiders in basement bars

Live the lust of the selfish gene

In Sorrento 

Spin doctored money blenders with hidden agendas

Crammed with fruit in the cave of clones

Lie low in Sorrento

In the wah wah cadence of Sorrento radiance,

Re-mortgaged estate agents with Vintage Bentleys

Sway in the breeze to nightfall’s synthful sassy jazz

Glow worm leprechauns in dust-down denim delights

Ageless and jazz-hot; hide behind enemy-lines

In Sorrento

Nightfall in sorrento

The civil disobedience of a New Era

The world in one city, refuelled and air-cooled.

Adidas Pre-Raphaelites on a Full English cutting edge

Predicting a riot in the chic chill-out of a power-pop city

The Revlon Accurist with pipe smoking planes

In his own back yard

Sails his skintight riverboat in the shimmering waters 

of Sorrento 

Escaping the chaos of a goose-pimpled Colditz

With his third wife escape plan

from the regional assembly of the Canterbury Tales

Lost in Sorrento 

Midsummer night dreamtime

Astro-bars in Sorrento

Robert Frost fashion brands

Follow the universe less travelled by

He was a trainee with a code name

Sleeping with the saints in Sorrento

Dark textured with age defining make-up

The full glamour and scandal on DVD

Eagerly awaited - 

The king of contenders

Hot toasted and out to sea on another public art project

Dizzy in the city with Calvin Klein moth repellent

Paying lip service to high drama

In the urban puzzle

She’s like art in unexpected places

Soft spoken

Sky diving

Sunfresh

Sensitive

Sexy, suave

Stealing the show

On the soft silken routes of Sorrento

Trev Teasdel - Teesside Dynamo - Poetry Tyneside

http://poetrytyneside.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/trevor-teasdel-teesside-dynamo.html

On Poetry Tyneside - Trev Teasdel - Teeside Dynamo

Via Keith Armstrong - The Jingling Geordie.

This site features three of my performance poems - 

Debt Ceiling

Nightfall in Sorrento

Dance and R & B (The Surround Sound)

DEBT CEILING 

I reached my debt ceiling long ago, 

defaulted, 

dismissed my armies, 

closed down my parks 

and human zoo.

A world of phone calls,

false legal letters 

designed to frighten

from world banks and 

interplanetary leaders. 

Now my trains don't run, 

the buses are late, 

fuel prices levitate 

and politicians lie 

(what’s new!). 

I swing from the ceiling and 

owe a debt to no one. 

Money is a lie that we buy 

wrapped up in pie, cooked in the books

'til debts are skyscrapers high.

I'm packing up my subprime loans, 

portfolios 

lack of interest rates, 

credit agreements, promissory notes, 

commercial instruments (with the power of attorney) 

and moving to the debt free zone. 

Pass me my Stetson, saddle me a horse,

I plan to water the desert with poetic justice 

on nature’s globe 

where couplets rock in flower beds and 

bees are free and foxes flirt 

and badgers mate in congress.

Yes I reached my debt ceiling long ago 

in this blockbuster world 

full of shadow and sound, 

with conspiracies for plots 

and guns for compassion 

and storylines written 

by spin doctors on super yachts. 

My pockets are empty, my mind a goldmine. 

I am the treasury of earth without a dime to my name. 

I am the IMF of the idea bank, 

the FT index of a cooperative world 

where wars no longer radiate 

and poverty’s re-nourished. 

I return my all my debt notices to 

the bankrupt oligarchy, 

out of ideas 

out of cash, 

out of heart and 

out of mind. 

Yes, that's the situation - 

You’re loan funded world 

is in administration!

Nightfall in Sorrento

Sorrento -

The Communion of the urban puzzle

Where elegance is attitude

The fashion club of the urban groove

Eco-driven citizens

In slender tones of mobile silence

Nocturnal spiders in basement bars

Live the lust of the selfish gene

In Sorrento 

Spin doctored money blenders with hidden agendas

Crammed with fruit in the cave of clones

Lie low in Sorrento

In the wah wah cadence of Sorrento radiance,

Re-mortgaged estate agents with Vintage Bentleys

Sway in the breeze to nightfall’s synthful sassy jazz

Glow worm leprechauns in dust-down denim delights

Ageless and jazz-hot; hide behind enemy-lines

In Sorrento

Nightfall in sorrento

The civil disobedience of a New Era

The world in one city, refuelled and air-cooled.

Adidas Pre-Raphaelites on a Full English cutting edge

Predicting a riot in the chic chill-out of a power-pop city

The Revlon Accurist with pipe smoking planes

In his own back yard

Sails his skintight riverboat in the shimmering waters 

of Sorrento 

Escaping the chaos of a goose-pimpled Colditz

With his third wife escape plan

from the regional assembly of the Canterbury Tales

Lost in Sorrento 

Midsummer night dreamtime

Astro-bars in Sorrento

Robert Frost fashion brands

Follow the universe less traveled by

He was a trainee with a code name

Sleeping with the saints in Sorrento

Dark textured with age defining make-up

The full glamour and scandal on DVD

Eagerly awaited - 

The king of contenders

Hot toasted and out to sea on another public art project

Dizzy in the city with Calvin Klein moth repellent

Paying lip service to high drama

In the urban puzzle

She’s like art in unexpected places

Soft spoken

Sky diving

Sunfresh

Sensitive

Sexy, suave

Stealing the show

On the soft silken routes of Sorrento.

(You can hear a Trance version of Nightfall in Sorrento here with Culture Fuzion - ie Jim Pryal music and Trev words.) There are three tracks on this My Space.

https://myspace.com/41094205/music/songs

https://myspace.com/41094205/music/songs

DANCE & R n B -

The SURROUND SOUND

One-stop, hip hop, coming soon,

Club classics from the attic.

Acid jazz and retro blast,

Brass with balls, passion freaks,

Bad asses, bad in bed,

Live your passion, get your ration on the slate -

Tongue and groove.

The cadging coppers cap in hand,

Jing and Jang orangutans.

Make the difference, make your mark,

Make a notch with your crotch

Coming soon. Trance that tune!

You’re the single of the week

Party proof, hair that’s sleek

Retro-clothes, half antique

Pratt your hair and show a cheek.

Daft, defected, unsuspected,

Erections resurrected.

Home goal, hard soul,

Soil the action with dank distractions.

Fuck hard 'because you’re worth it',

Never dampen your down your style.

Kitsch bar dynamite, box office smash,

Born in a brewery on organic beer.

It’s game on-edgy. Passport Sunset,

Afterthought condom,

The Kings of Leoness

Seek the fallen goddess.

But Your grail’s in the ale

Where you leave your vapour trails.

It’s R&B stunning, sponsored by Loreal,

It’s Mingus Cunnilingus,

'Unforgettable', Nat King Cole'd,

Way good, way good,

Hip hop, one stop,

Acid Jazz.

Ah! The dancing gambler,

The warbling breeze,

Can’t stop to freeze or unzip his knees.

On a local scene with choice cut capers,

He’s in the papers with thieves and rapers.

It’s a downtown beat,

A dawn flotilla

Of academic-epidemics who think with their dicks,

A one-stop promo,

passport sunset -

In golf as in life.

Perfectly aligned

With online tickets

For Fat Boy slim,

Fat Boy Slim,

Fat Boy Slim.

It’s 'a must-see' drama,

Wholly Expresso

In a Mocha malaise.

You piss on your passion

As your soul goes flashin’.

You got sonnets in attic

And raps in the gutter.

Your life’s like a clutter

Of tranced R&B.

Ah! But you’re the single of the week,

Party-proof hair that’s sleek,

Retro-clothes, half unique,

A wig for hair and bare of cheek.

Fast food, fast fuck,

Urban Guerrilla.

Your mind works like Mozilla,

A Firefox hedonist

Of misinformation,

A Dreamweaver diva,

Microsoft in the head - 

You shatter the windows of the dead.

You dance like a geek, look sleek

But your girl comes clean, unzips your genes,

Feels for your rod, alters your DNA

But steals your Ipod.

Ah! You’re sick as a carrot,

You fuck like a parrot.

What ho!

What can anyone say?

Live version of Dance and R & B (The Surround Sound) at the Sphinx Club Coventry 2010 recorded by Gordon Smith (Nomad) for the Wandering John 40th anniversary concert in aid of charity. Wandering John are playing in the background.