Whatever comes to mind before I alter it with the overpaint of time. Mostly satire, poetry and fiction but occasional unreliable fact, as all facts seems to be today. From deepest Notting Hill. London.
Wednesday 31 August 2011
ENERGY LINES. Joanna & Caroline Lazzarini.
Joanna Lazzarini
Caroline Lazzarini
An exhibition of Painting and sculpture by Joanna & Caroline Lazzarini (Often to be seen moving ethereally through this cityscape) opens on the 1st of September at the Tabernacle Gallery. W11 2AY. 10.00am - 9.00 pm.
Caroline Lazzarini
An exhibition of Painting and sculpture by Joanna & Caroline Lazzarini (Often to be seen moving ethereally through this cityscape) opens on the 1st of September at the Tabernacle Gallery. W11 2AY. 10.00am - 9.00 pm.
TWENTY SEVEN.
As a response to the Rock n Roll poem the following arrived from my French corespondent...
Twenty Seven
Make twenty seven iconic in heaven
and rock reputations get made:
all the old songs get replayed
winning a Grammy displayed
the hip lip service repaid
dream of a lifetime portrayed
summative meaning conveyed.
Make twenty seven laconic in heaven
on rock reputations pre-paid:
friends and family dismayed
fans make a final crusade
pray by the house where you stayed
sad silent funeral parade
plaque on the wall where you played.
Make twenty seven mnemonic in heaven
and rock reputations don’t fade:
stardom afresh, unafraid
cutting edge voice like a blade
sold as somebody self-made
height of the talent parade
an internet site for the trade.
Make twenty seven sardonic in heaven
and rock reputations get flayed:
trust in the tabloids betrayed
celebrity savaged, surveyed
hype of the night of the raid
stoned and drunken tirade
the dealers of death all got paid.
Make twenty seven ironic in heaven
and rock reputations upbraid:
talent abruptly decayed
illness was like a grenade
exploding the soul’s serenade
unable to sing without aid
no audience left to persuade.
Make twenty seven Byronic in heaven
for rock reputations re-weighed:
sign with an airbrush resprayed
the end of it all masquerade
your careless cool disarrayed
god awful end in the shade
postmortem details degrade.
Make sixty seven bucolic in Devon
and rock reputations are staid:
Gibson exchanged for a spade
organic low cal lemonade
worry the livestock have strayed
past where the neighbour got laid
“Hope to die young”, got delayed.
Make believe heaven for children aged seven
rots reputations homemade.
Copyright Bob West. All rights reserved.
Tuesday 30 August 2011
Notting Hill Carnival 2011 post mortem.
FRIDAY.
There is a god or at least there is a god of Carnival. A secular god though; keen on a bit of spliff, a drink or two and steel pan.
Having been forbidden to practice in All Saints Road Mangrove Steelband played in the Tabernacle courtyard. Wow. The rain stopped, the sky turned blue and we were treated to carnival of our own. A brilliant event.
SATURDAY.
The god of Carnival turned out to be a Mangrove fan. Our resident (at the Tabernacle) Steelband won 'Panorama'; a battle of the bands held annually. For 12 months they are now ' The best steel band in the UK. Well done Matthew Phillip (manager and drummer) Arranger Andre White and everyone involved. It is a 12 month labour of love for the whole team.
Photographs: Christopher Scholey
Saturday night found me at 'LOCO' Carnival special at the Grand Union on Great Western Road... A marathon 6 hour session with some great performances from some of our favourites. I managed to get in 20 or so poems with backing from James Simmins and Jono willis. Delphi Newman was great as always as were Mario Nardi, Chrystina Tomlin and Rob Alder. Roger Pomphrey delivered on of his pyrotechnic performances. Fishslice Pbrowse defies description; you would not believe me. It was a happy night.
SUNDAY.
I was wakend at Midday (I had gone back to bed for a little nap) by the loudest fucking noise on the planet. I was house sitting in the middle of Carnival, about 30 metres from the sound system in All Saint's Road. The house was vibrating. The only thing to do was to get out into the thing.
There was a big police presence, far greater than last year. High viz vests in abundance, every street corner held a group of them. It turned out that they were not needed after all. As the day progressed it became more and more clear that this was going to be a very peaceful and happy Carnival. I spent a lot of the day either at Gaz Mayalls stage or at the nearby Tabernacle. It all ended on the dot of 7.00 and I spent the evening walking through the detritus with a friend checking it all out. A lot of police lined the roads as the army of street cleaners went to work. It is extraordinary how they get the place ready for the Monday; they do an amazing job.
To be continued...
There is a god or at least there is a god of Carnival. A secular god though; keen on a bit of spliff, a drink or two and steel pan.
Having been forbidden to practice in All Saints Road Mangrove Steelband played in the Tabernacle courtyard. Wow. The rain stopped, the sky turned blue and we were treated to carnival of our own. A brilliant event.
SATURDAY.
The god of Carnival turned out to be a Mangrove fan. Our resident (at the Tabernacle) Steelband won 'Panorama'; a battle of the bands held annually. For 12 months they are now ' The best steel band in the UK. Well done Matthew Phillip (manager and drummer) Arranger Andre White and everyone involved. It is a 12 month labour of love for the whole team.
Photographs: Christopher Scholey
Saturday night found me at 'LOCO' Carnival special at the Grand Union on Great Western Road... A marathon 6 hour session with some great performances from some of our favourites. I managed to get in 20 or so poems with backing from James Simmins and Jono willis. Delphi Newman was great as always as were Mario Nardi, Chrystina Tomlin and Rob Alder. Roger Pomphrey delivered on of his pyrotechnic performances. Fishslice Pbrowse defies description; you would not believe me. It was a happy night.
SUNDAY.
I was wakend at Midday (I had gone back to bed for a little nap) by the loudest fucking noise on the planet. I was house sitting in the middle of Carnival, about 30 metres from the sound system in All Saint's Road. The house was vibrating. The only thing to do was to get out into the thing.
There was a big police presence, far greater than last year. High viz vests in abundance, every street corner held a group of them. It turned out that they were not needed after all. As the day progressed it became more and more clear that this was going to be a very peaceful and happy Carnival. I spent a lot of the day either at Gaz Mayalls stage or at the nearby Tabernacle. It all ended on the dot of 7.00 and I spent the evening walking through the detritus with a friend checking it all out. A lot of police lined the roads as the army of street cleaners went to work. It is extraordinary how they get the place ready for the Monday; they do an amazing job.
To be continued...
Monday 29 August 2011
Poetry is the new rock n roll. (Revisited)
They say poetry is the new rock n roll
Write another poem buddy. Go buddy go
Write about a rock star
write about her vices
write about her falls from grace
her personal crises
but write about a rock star
and dress her up in sequins
for rock n roll ain't a world
in which Jo meek wins.
Yeah poetry is the new rock n roll
Write another poem buddy go buddy go
Write about a rock star
write about he cocaine
talk about her cocaine
talk about her cocaine
talk about her...
Oh buddy push the needle on
and write about a rock star
sing it when you're done
sing it to a techno beat
badum badum badum
Yeah poetry is the new rock n roll
Write another poem buddy go buddy go
Write about a rock star
but not about her rehab
no don't write about her rehab
NO NO NO
write about her drinking
and write about her gear
because happy stories of the cure
are not what we want to hear
Yeah poetry is the new rock n roll.
(Guitar solo)
Yeah poetry is the new rock n roll
Write another poem buddy go buddy go
Write about a rock star
then kill her when you're done
kill her with a fatal dose
her vomit or a gun
but kill that fucking rock star
don't let her get too old
that way you'll get to number one
before the body's cold
Saturday 27 August 2011
Mangrove Steelband rehearsing at the Tabernacle prior to carnival.
This is what goes on round here at this time of year. What a magical thing to find.
Offer.
A poem by yesterday's muse.
I offered.
Please do not ask me for that which I offered.
That would be embarrassing
I don't have what I offered
I only have the offer.
Surely the offer is enough.
Enough to make me feel good.
About offering.
Saturday 20 August 2011
Thursday 18 August 2011
Borrowers or squatters.
A friend phoned this morning. Concerned that squatters were breaking into the flat next door to hers. Initially they had said that they were from the council then owned up.
I went round and spoke to them. they seemed to think that stealing someone's home was acceptable. "It is not theft". They said. "We are just borrowing it".
Wednesday 17 August 2011
The blue dress.
she gave him blue things. Trinkets. She had money but she could not give him the one thing that he valued.
Until.
She called him. 'Where are you?' 'At home'. 'I am at the shop down the road, you know the one we talked about this morning. Come down here'.
He walked. Across the road from the shop he saw her, she came out of the door, beckoned, smiled, danced. In a blue silk dress.
He knew.
he crossed the road. The Red bus was doing 30 when it hit him. He died happy.
Which is more than could be said about her.
Monday 15 August 2011
Saturday 13 August 2011
The ghost of carnival past and the detritus of the Muse.
Thursday 11 August 2011
Sirens but no mermaids.
Dreaming of sirens I awoke to find next door on fire. Fire engines do not resemble mermaids.
Not a poem but the surreal start to my day; dozing and dreaming I was brought round by the sound of many sirens and they did not pass the house. I thought 'Strange, A bit early for the looters. Surely they are still asleep or playing grand theft auto on their stolen consoles'. I went up to the roof and saw that I was surrounded by fire engines and smoke coming out of the school next door.
downstairs I opened the front door to the fire brigade who asked me to leave immediately.
What to take, what to take?
I took my false tooth and stetson. I should have put some socks on, That was a mistake, not putting socks on.
now, later, the fire is out, my flat is smoky and greyish like someone has been burning car tyres in there. I have to keep out for a day or two until the smell has cleared but it could have been far worse.
It was caused by builders working on the roof earlier this week, had been smoldering for a while. I had been very lucky that it did not go off at 1.00 am when no-one would have seen the smoke.
Fire brigade were great. They had to take some of the school roof off to get water into the fire. "Most of it came out through the school" said a fireman. Some of it didn't!
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