A T. Rex, Trappist Trombonist!

I'm the son of a Sousaphone, for your love, a T Rex, Trappist Trombonist; I love the way you fiddle, come fiddly dee dee, octaves up the chromatic scale. Your slender bow across my strings; a slow burner on a hot stove. My razzmatazz, you're Cajun Jazz; you're the taxi, I'm the bus. Share your blues and I'll share mine, we'll paint the streets with burnished rhyme. I'm a Howling wolf on a rainy night, bass pizzicato on a rumbling street, Umbrella fella, Jack of the Bier Keller. Stretch your strings, bring your harmony, even out my beats. Love is the Jazz, love is nazz, lets improvise so neat!

Words by Trev Teasdel

Listen to it on the video

Inspired by this painting by Adrian Borda
Artist | Professional | Traditional Art
Romania,which can be seen here http://borda.deviantart.com/

The whole bus was texting and...

The bus was packed, I found a seat at the back, squashed between noisy Droids and Ewoks. The whole bus was texting and talking, posturing and pouting, quoting the news, spreading the rumour, running down Jim, running down Jennifer, making assumptions, talking with irony, telephone banking, buying on line, bragging and boasting, 2nd hand opinions, washed up politics, bullying and bantering. Nobody says what they're feeling, nobody speaks from the heart, no one sees the universal thread that binds us heart to heart. We put on a show, we take a stance, we hide the emotion, we dodge the issue, we're scared to be weak, we're scared to be wrong, we're scared to be who the hell we are. We don't look inside, question what we hear, what they tell us to think, what they say we must hear. We're all of one seed, all of one need, lost in the noise, lost in the din.The bus pulled in, the seats all empty, all the meaningless words just fell to the floor. Are we all empty shells, heartless and aching, consumers of 'news', adverts and opinions. The bus pulled out, noiseless and empty and I spoke from the heart and I spoke from the soul and I sat in the seat of my choice!

Words by Trev Teasdel

Daphne had had enough of holograms for one day....

Just then, a football, from Cov City football ground,1960's, came through the window. 'Christ', said, Daphne, 'I was just about to come' 'How on earth did that ball take so long to get here!' George, scratched his beard.'It's because you put Cockney Rebel on the turntable again!' Daphne wasn't convinced - this was 1974 and that ball went missing in 1961. 'Something weird is happening here George' she said, heading for the bath room. 'The world is more surreal than any Dali painting - don't you get a sense of that?' George put on his boxers and watched the boxing "Sorry babe, I never notice these things. Women are always more attuned to it." Daphne did up the buttons of her braided coat and slid down the Bannister of the multi-storied flats when Steve Harley called out from the top block "We can work it out " he sang. " I did the football trick just to get your attention, come on up!" Daphne had had enough of holograms for one day and took a bus to 2017 where life was much simpler. Meanwhile another missing football hit a nearby juke box - it was the rebel himself...

Words by Trev Teasdel

Just because the night was dark...

Just because the night was dark it doesn't mean that eyes can't see, the wasp-nest hairdo, the stinging tail, the Orlando snail in the frog- spawn pail. Third-gear mustache, break-peddle hologram, she hitched her skirt and hitched a ride. The night was snarling, the moon was misty, they rode the road through the rocks of hell. Four string pentagram, the eyes of Horus, they stopped off at Henry's Hourglass. The night was juicy, the hour was roxy, they loved like moonbeams on the run from the sun. The night was a quark, the daylight a skylark, love was the answer without a question...

Words by Trev Teasdel

My name is Danny...

My name is Danny, I'm a self-employed juggler from Danville, I'm a Paul Newman look a like, I taught James Dean how to strut. I wrestled with a water cannon in Dry Water Gulch, I bent the world back in shape and spat out all the corruption. I was born on the run, in the State of loneliness, I had attitude spilling from my jeans. The world was my baseball and I batted it against the wall of space. No one ever cared, no one held out their hand, so I invented a life no one expected. You can call me Danny but I don't answer to my name, I never did what you thought and I dodged all the blame. If you're cute, I will sing but the words will only make sense to me...

Words by Trev Teasdel

Back to back bedsit...

Back to back bedsit above the bakers; she liked her cake and eat it, open legs, open relationship. She smoked too many cigarettes, told too many lies, dreamed too big for her income; thought the world was made of gold. The rain beat down on her unzipped top, her hair was cropped, her wages docked. She was like a saxophone, talented fingers could play her tune, the rest just made a noise.The rain beat down on this cake tin town. She was playing her way through plain flour, aiming to be self-raising, with the crumbs of dreams rolling in her mind. She played the flute for recreation, down in the depth of Baker Street Station; she was a tubular bell in an underground network, off the cuff and off the rails. Life was a story going nowhere in particular, with rubbish plots and crazy dialogue. She baked on Sunday and made it with anyone who came by on Monday...

Words by Trev Teasdel

Swoop down, long neck...

Swoop down, long neck, what the heck, fish call, waterfall, wing it, sing it, catch it and bring it. Beaky, sneaky, your web-foot is leaky.

Words and photo by Trev Teasdel

Meanings Clatter

Sat in my front room where meanings clatter I daydreamed myself into the 'Regatta at Argenteuil', by Monet, on the wall, by the blue and yellow stripes, and sat by the Seine watching the impressionism of boats and the trains, in the particles and waves of my imagination. Yachts in full sail in the summer sun. I watched the world and it's boats in the mad race of time and had coffee on the Japanese bridge at Giverny. That's all I came to say..

Words by Trev Teasdel

She lived in a bottle....

She lived in a bottle washed up on the beach, I built her a castle of sand, she had a piano and one or two books and seafood kept her trim. She polished the molecules of the ocean's waves, I watched her from outside. I'd never met someone who lived in a bottle but she harmonised my soul. I cleaned off the sand and watched her play on the twinkling keys; her voice rose high until the bottle broke and we ran away across the hot sand beach...

Words by Trev Teasdel

Because civilisation...

Because civilisation makes no sense half-eaten donuts paint lemonade ships on nuclear fire engines. The fur-coated weather whistles down chimney-pots telling lies about the two-timed moon and the Arch-Duke of Wallpaper has been stripped of rank. But me I'm writing a memo to the President of all things about the plans to repossess the Earth while my 6 wives and walnut platypus seek shelter inside the word 'Kelloggs'!

Words by Trev Teasdel