A Cheap Novel in a Backstreet Charity Shop by Trev Teasdel

Latest ebook by Trev Teasdel 2019 

Born in Atlantis

Newest ebook out by Trev Teasdel - Born in Atlantis 2019. Featuring poetic flashing fictions,poems and stories by Trev Teasdel. You can read it in the window below or click through to Google drive and download the PDF version free.

The Lost Scrolls of the Apecklypse

The Lost Scrolls of the Apeckalypse

by Trev Teasdel

First published 2017, revised 2018. View via Google Drive.Click the arrow to enlarge and download.

Picasso's Secret Cafe and The Planet of Debt

Picasso's Secret Cafe and the Planet of Debt

By Trev Teasdel

First published 2016 and revised 2018.

View via Google Drive - click arrow to expand and download

The Escaped Poet - Trev Teasdel

The Escaped Poet was the first poetry chapbook I produced, published by The Poetic Licence Collective 1984. 

It was indeed an escape from academia after finishing my degree on Teesside in 1983. 

Escaped Poet was a mix of lyrics, poems, stories and graphics written between 1969 and 1983 and some which I wrote for the book itself. 

Some of the poems have been published in Small Press magazines or used in performance Ann Wainwright, editor of Poetic Licence promoted the book in her small press digesters and it received, at the time, a number of favourable reviews. 

It was revised several times in the early 1980's and this is the first digitally issue produced in 2018, maintaining as much of the original layout as possible but pages have been revised for clarity and I have adding more material make here and there. The title of the book came from a poster on my wall as shown above!




Note To read The Escaped Poet - scroll down the viewer or click the arrow screen right in the viewer and when it opens in a new window you can download it from Google Drive by clicking the arrow at the top of the window.

Review of The Escaped Poet in Poetry of Love 1984

Hey Up What's the Crack

HEY UP! WHAT'S THE CRACK?

There's ghost inertia on the fringe of passion
The Art of Martial sex is well in fashion
Through Venetian specs with special effects
You get sex by text - whatever next!
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids on a downward track.


Trainspotting clones called Smith and Jones
Bug your deepest thoughts via mobile phones
Put credit-debtors in French-letters
with horse betters and ant petters
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids on a downtown track.

The Goat-farmer from Kathmandu
Is wise to your Karma and illusion of you.
This material world for those who fail
To see the light in this urbanic trail.
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids clickety clack a downward track.

There's a carboot sale on a virtual beach
with a plastic snail and a slice of quiche
and a shopping mall for personality
This banality's free on Reality TV
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids slide down the chimney stack.

You get post-grad cash-back
For shagging in the love-shack
A 6-pack, fast-track; 0% APR, the money goes far
A free toy car, so there you are!
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids caught on a salesman's camera trap.

Give me Caffrey's, give me wine
This Circe society has turned you to swine.
In this fiscal boom, you are what you consume
A two-timed dildo under a lover's moon.
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids slide down the snakes and adders track.

It's true, it's true, life is a Vindaloo
Hot with passion, too highly spiced for you
Slow down, slow down, examine your vision
Your life is a bank
Instant credit, instant decision
Hey up! What's the Crack? Alack alack
What's the Crack?
Humanoids on a downward track.

By Trev Teasdel August 2006

POWER CHORD PRIMATE _ METAL VERSION

POWER CHORD PRIMATE _ ROCK VERSION 

Words and music by Trev Teasdel. - 

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 left-field pickup truck, swinging in the trees and looking to get lucky. A power-chord primate with intuitive ignition, I radioed my intentions intensely. 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!!

Some more on Keith Armstrong's Poetry Tyneside - Teesside Dynomo http://poetrytyneside.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/trevor-teasdel-teesside-dynamo.html

Last Sundays performance,opening for the very first Cutty Bang Cabaret show at the Music Lounge, Stockton on Tees. Most of the 20min set (15 mins) was caught on camera by Comicus Organicus. Featuring Nightfall in Sorrento, Hey Up What's the Crack, The Hypocratic Oath, Joe Toe Rag, Summer Nights - Bourbon Barbecue, Strip Jack Naked, The Stocking Exchange, Down Our Street, Dance and R & B (The Surround Sound), We Talked for Ages.

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

A NEW BOOK OUT - DIRTY STOP OUTS - COVENTRY IN THE 1970'SFeatures photos and memories that I have contributed via my former Coventry Music and Arts Magazine Hobo, originally published in 1973 - 75 but which is now a major online archive site for Coventry Music - linked above.The book, authored by Ruth Cherrington and published and edited by Neil Anderson of ACM Retro, is, for anyone interested, available from Waterstones and HMV in Coventry and on Amazon UK here 

"We made trunk calls under the Elephant post, bought platform tickets for our platform heels, flared our jeans for the patchwork pubs, went Loco in the Locarno, lurched outside the Lanch, queuing for tickets for T. Rex, gold blend beer in the Golden Cross, diving down the 'Dive bar, hippies, punks and bikers, silken memories of disco dancing, a wedge of memories in a radical bookshop, Two Tone chipshop or Mouldy Old Dough, last bus home or stopping out late, boom town, ghost town, Hilltop lovers with cobblestone lives, E type memories and Sunbeam smiles, we assembled the music, tuned our engines and stepped out in top gear." Trev Teasdel

The book on the shelves of HMV Coventry

One of the pages featuring Hobo Magazine

Summer Nights Bourbon Barbecue

Summer Nights Bourbon Barbecue

Summer nights, bourbon barbecue, smoke ranches in the sky, clashing glasses, Ian Van Dahl and drunken voices over the fence. Talking football, talking shop, in a flap and talking crap. Pert and flirting and unskirting comes the fight. Jilted lovers under covers, would be lovers undiscovered. The thin and fatio under parasol and on the patio. The cuckold husband, no solution, lost in the din and noise pollution. The sociable and anti social, the boastful and the meek, scranning wine and scraggy meat. The neighbours all have complaints but they themselves are never saints. Summer nights and some are pregnant. Full moon rising with its advertising the swaying stars in racing cars. No one’s sober, no one’s sane the fireworks stuck in next door’s drain. Early morning, the sun’s not dressed, stumbles through the debris in his pants and vest. The king of puke with his golden hangover graffities on next door’s Rover. Boobtube, youtube, Ian Van Dahl, it’s all ‘Castles in the Sky’!

Text by Trev Teasdel 

Listen to it on this video -

or Listen to it on Stockton Digital Village podcast here - 
http://stocktondigital.co.uk/blog/podcast/summer-nights-bourbon-barbecue/

Panavision Motion

Panavision Motion
I was born in a movie, learned to walk like a star, cameras rolling. I threw my tantrums across the set and balled out the director. I lived in Panavision motion, high definition, a technicolour visionette of half improvised script. I could acquiesce for burlesque, say ' aloe vera ' to Christina Aguilera, plug into R&B and belt out ' Something's Got a Hold of me '. I took the credits and stuffed the critics and cheated on Google Glass . They called me iconic but I played it ironic whenever Christina would sing...

Text by Trev Teasdel

Listen to it on this video - 

Or an audio version here http://stocktondigital.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/Panavision-Motion.mp3

Meandering on Downstream

MEANDERING ON DOWNSTREAM

Walking along the streams of consciousness, through buttressed leaves in kick crumble rouge, past sloping off boats tugging at their moorings, past gates to huge houses, slipways slipping into the Thames to feed u bend swans fresh baked breadlets, past bent backed hedges with tanglehair dreams and lean over fences and trees that reach up to the giant’s nest and the blowbubble clouds with tingledrop raindrops that fall on caught out blouses and coiffured hairscapes, while dogs chase the illusions of rabbits that spill from a cast off top hat jammed in the hedgerow awaiting the applause of a Drury Lane matinee, while taxies cutcorners to pick up cutout commuters from their briefcased compartments and deliver them quickly to laptop lovers with microsoft thighs and dropdown menus before evening news and dinner for two on a punt down near Windsor while couples tell lies that neither believes as a matter of ritual and just to fill in time till the call of the duvet and feather down pillows in the lovertime night with it’s dreams of long winding rivers with trees that look like people and ducks that talk Norman and swans that sell cakes to passerby joggers in trainers and leggings that bounce on the leaves where rabbits lure dogs with the illusion of food and magicians lose hats in a spell under the stars and back by the streams where consciousness rushes before walking by the banks of the Thames flowing home to its mansion of the sea with it’s fishmaid servants and butler whales and ships that just seem to pass in the night..

Trev Teasdel

Life on Streetview

Life on Streetview

Life on Streetview was a buzz!

We rode that mouse town to town, 
looking up forgotten women, forgotten pals that got mixed up in our dreams decades before when we were the hell raisers. 

The no-care youth of the world, oozing with ideas; crapping ourselves with creativity; dreaming of new eras; moving on the goalposts of what was possible; dreaming big but dreaming small; far from the smell of making money, free of the watchers and corporate control freaks, where love was the currency and ideas were the street map. 

The world was one country with interlinking cultures, the soul was our passport, the passion our engine. We were the architects of alternatives, we believed in other ways. We slept in damp alleys crying with sterility and dreamed with the archimage of how we could change everything that was wrong for this planet; and the music was unbelievable and cut to the chase and the poetry broke all of its rules and the books undid all the forced learning and we spoke with the heart and we spoke from our passion and we moved like greased lightning and painted the streets with rainbows of diversity and believed in each other and believed we could do better and we chased the old world into a corner of history. 

In the darkness of oppression a candle is lit and it only takes a movement of the head to see above your horizons.

Trev Teasdel