Milton Keynes, face value....

Come bombs,

Fall on Milton Keynes,
We've had enough of spending schemes,
Of Bar Ones, iPhone shops and Maccy Ds,
A place rife with a consumer's disease,

Come nukes,

Tear it to shreds
Break the concrete spires from their beds,

Shatter the glass fronted automatic doors,
Splinter apart the eyebrow weaving stalls.

This piped music, make it stop,
Unplug the band locked in a box,
Locked in a room, locked in a trance,
Playing free will's funereal dance,

Come missiles,

Target the shops,
Make the produce burn in rented slots,
Destroy the vapid altar's capitalist call,
'Two for one' on your very soul,

Set it ablaze, burn it into the night,
So all can see how again we might
Reclaim this plot for decent folk,
Out from under the pound's yoke.

(My hands are bloodied from pounding
On grey walls,
Did you notice Milton Keynes?)

~

Oh Lymphadenopathy ~

Oh Lymphadenopathy,

Why are you ontop of me?
Not on top in physicality,
But under the neck intolerably.

There was some penicillin for me,
To combat you Lymphadenopathy,
But I have run out of the things completely,
And now am dangerously self medicatory.

I feel like a golf ball makes up my anatomy,
My neck twice the size it ought to be,
Swallowing is an agony to me,
A cramping fire of crampery ~

I hope you get made extinctery!
Cured from the annals of medical history,
A distant unpleasant memory,
To exhausted and suffering people like me.

So screw you Lymphadenopathy,
A stupid name that hinders me,
Not a simple word are you Lymphadenopathy?
One that requires 'control' and 'v'.

~

The Ickney ~

We came to the Heath
Hand wrapped and numb
Beat,

Waiting through water for
The offering;

A pardon given for my ignorance,

Ours for the fire let only inside,
And waited in the Circle.

To the north a hearty salutation
No less the east, west and south,

A green air waiting with pulse
As hammers,

I had never felt to close my eyes,

The spoken void now seen to me,

All time waiting in the turn of a head,

The horse stepped out from the reign,

The dead present too like sentinel trees bowing silver silent in the half gloom,

My girl muttering the invocation in

A daze and there the horse rode our hearts towards the Circle.

Ten hands tall and bone, he looked at me, chose me to not choose,

And strode like a fighter from the dead ground we had opened.

Opened he was challenged, with virtues spoken,

beaten back to bless the year in defeat,

By green bough shining hopeful and the year to come growing
From our shaking feet.

~

The Blacksmith Who Chased The Moon ~ Stuff of Dreams Theatre Review

The New Cut at Halesworth is a modern and spacious venue that is currently housing 'Stuff of Dreams' Christmas show, 'The Blacksmith who Chased the Moon'. Adapted from 'The Night Before Christmas' by Gogol and placed in Suffolk, Stuff of Dreams merge classic story telling with contemporary references to create a delightful and detailed theatre piece, with a strong cast working together. The emphasis is on ingenious stagecraft. Fight sequences are vivid circus moves, journeys across the moonless landscape take place with mime and decisive characteristics, sound effects are simple guitar strums. I was delighted also with the synergy of the costumes, which were very beautiful and exciting. The set was unobtrusive and effective, allowing the focus to fall on the action. There are notable performances, namely Thomas Wingfield as Fabian, the titular Blacksmith, whose moments of physical comedy are balanced well with pathos. Steve Peck as the Devil began slowly but quickly gained momentum as he tricks the characters and plays with the audience; Ben Elder as Darwin was commanding (including a very funny moment as a towns person) whilst Cicely Long was diverse and proficient in her roles: a warm friend and a very amusing wife. The cast came together well, with beautiful and sublime singing at the opening and closing of the play. Cordelia Spence's direction is fast and intricate, working with Anthony Cule's very expansive script. I felt that the diatribe could have afforded a tighten in places, but be in no doubt that it is a very accomplished adaptation to Gogol's famous tale. The pace is quick and well choreographed and you really never know what is next. One thing is sure, you will laugh out loud and leave the theatre feeling good. I was pleased that we weren't subjected to an empty popularist Christmas message. This is a company that cares deeply about their art and has the expertise to do that passion justice. 4/5 Performing 2nd/3rd January 2016 The New Cut Halesworth