Judge Mental

Judge Mental was a law unto himself and presided over a fake morality. He lived inside a Whisky bottle with 15 platonic wives and studied esoteric lore on the side. He knew the world was crazy and all the ancient knowledge was lost or disregarded but he was judgmental and had to be seen to be so. One night he heard the blues for the first time and bought himself a guitar and harp. His mind slid up to the 12th fret and dropped in semi-tones down the hypotenuse. Twice around the block, he met Rory and never judged again...

Words by Trev Teasdel

He sat down at the table...

He sat down at the table. Van Morrison was painting some mural on the wall. Rod Stewart was kissing some leggy blond. The universe was desperate, it's funds were limited and he reached his hands to his chin. It wasn't quite so hopeless, there was a power inside him, that he could invoke. He thought of her, and a tear rolled down his cheek, the road to love was never straightforward, Van donned the guitar and Rod added the words, he wasn't one to be kept down, he would climb out of this hole and paint the stars. He supped his pint and listened to the lilt of voice and guitar. He swore he saw her sneaking past, he picked up his courage and left his heart for her in the song...

Words by Trev Teasdel

With the world in a jug....

One a man with an umbrella put the world in a jug, watched from the outside, wars, carnage, volcanoes, Tsunamis, lying papers, plotting politicians. He was quite glad not to be in that jug and went for a pint and placed the jug on the bar. People came in, got quite drunk and watched."It's a crazy place" they'd say, 'would never go there!'. The man with the umbrella lived in a different jug; there they had fun, laughed, shared, grew real food,were open and honest with each other, banished politics, made love not war, learnt the magic to the universe, wrote, painted, played music. The man drank up his beer and sold the old jug a scrap dealer.

Words by Trev Teasdel

Under a Beltane Moon

The rain was belting down under a Beltane Moon, sleet showers on the steep slant to Staithes. The North sea was dancing wild like Nijinsky, Isadora Duncan, with poetry in it's soul, and longing in it's heart. Deep in the cave where hope hid from the politics of the day, came a sound etched on fuzzed guitars, a sliding bass, a heartfelt voice. He hugged the air as if a lover and put the headphones on fast...

Words by Trev Teasdel

Postcard bought in Whitby 1982 from a painting by Kevin Platt

Down on the Low Green

Down on the Low Green where the Leven streams with fallen leaves brown and green, where all my dreams and schemes thrive or fall when the sun beams or the rain teams, where i know what life means or what it seems.Down on the Low Green where the Leven streams.

Words and photo by Trev Teasdel

Literal on the clitter oil

Literal on the clitter oil, fecund to the clutter toil, don't put the blamer on your Daimler, she won't appreciate all the grease you ate. Henrietta's bouffant carburetors were on the plate, to a four-wheeled man of letters. Too heavy on the clutch, she spoke in double Dutch, accelerate to deviate, you know just where to meet.

Words and music by Trev Teasdel

Seagull Sky

I fly in the seagull sky, above the fish-bounce sea, below a silver-clouded Rolls Royce sky, land on the crab-claw beach where seaweed surfs the wagtail waves.

Words and photo by Trev Teasdel

Aeronautical Snakepit

Aeronautical snakepit, draconian Dakota, casual cockpit, arrow-tipped afrontage, wing-tipped fuselage, tight lipped take off, airborn to the aerodrome, muse in the museum!

Words and Photo by Trev Teasdel

Yorkshire air museum

It's a fake world, a mistake world

It's a fake world, a mistake world, a piss take world with fake news and fake nudes, this photo-shoppin', robot-coppin', hip-hop bopping fakery - plastic bread at the bakery. Piss-take politics, mistake politics - impoverish and don't bovverish! It's Dennis the Menace and Minnie the Minx, at the top of the pyramid, at the foot of the Sphinx. Fake boobs and fake cocks is all you get and all you've got. Don't be blue, if you haven't got a clue, this fakery's all for you. There's no real world, as science unfurled, the earth is flat and your mind is curled. Believe what you will in this dish, of potent pig's swill. Fake world, fake world, 'don't break the news,' world! Amen!

Words by Trev Teasdel

She stepped out of a still life...

She stepped out of a still life and threw the apples across the street. I was on the otherside, checking Facebook when her phone call came. There was a Gorilla on bass guitar and two hermaphrodites in the band. I was hanging out with a hedge-fund manager but I never carried cash. She spotted me in my MG and came over all coy. Down the road apiece she revved my engines and moved things up a gear. There must be fifty ways to say ' I love you' but I couldn't think of a single one. We drifted down to Sand Dune Town faking innocence and rolled into the Art House Cafe. Green Onion soup and a party in every painting. I kissed her in places unknown to man and left a note for her in someone's stockings...

Words by Trev Teasdel