apocalyptic hip-sync, Atomic, Ballroom blitz, But when the wearied band swoons to a waltz I take her hand and there we sit in peaceful calm quietly sweating palm to palm. - Aldous Huxley, Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in, I'll stop the world and melt with you, I'm gonna add some bottom So that the dancers just won't hide You might like to hear my organ I said ride Sally ride, Life is a dance we must learn Into the night we will turn, Poetry, Prose, Terpsichore Tango, We can go where we want to a place where they will never find And we can act like we come from out of this world Leave the real one far behind - and we can dance, Wordage
Never Let Me Go
Sinister skies snarl from a distance;
We all shiver in our best shoes.
One shadowy room and its unforgiving
Orange plastic chairs set the scene;
For, out beyond peeling disco balls
And paper chains of hope,
Where Polyester Pollys and Nick Nylons
Hover and glide on sanitiser-slick floors,
Withering gases — careless translucent
Thugs that they are —
Bear hug the metal outer shell
Of this bunker ballroom, blitz-style.
Back inside the beat goes on,
A space packed with eyeballs frenzied;
Glances shot from hip to lip
To fly — beating bullets
Charged and discharged.
Cross hairs head-butt each other
And bounce away, seeking The One
In a pitched battle
To find a beloved,
An unparalleled match to die for.
In the arms of.
Window panes smash in the foyer
Just before our searchlights hit bingo —
Two relieved glances exchanged
Like furloughed flares —
We both made it, here, for the last midnight.
The final finale.
We made it!
Eyes hooked, torsos zipped we waltz,
There’s nothing you and I won’t do
I’ll stop the world and melt with you.
Ten-ton rusty speakers drown out bombshells,
Eclipse isolation decades-long:
Well worth each and every
Dammed self-distanced second,
As the disinfectant-free fantasy
Turns well met in reality.
Outer explosions murder
The surround-sound as we sway;
Still we’re lost in music,
Caught in Goldfrapp,
Lyricists of each other’s metre
Conducting every unfulfilled
Symphony we’ve ever endured,
Dancing on as our world dissolves.
I twirl, whirl, unfurl;
The Clouds become lazy
Pillared pillows of fire.
You dip me backwards laughing;
Hurled shadows of muggers
Paint skinny back streets black.
For this last dance is a diseased countdown;
The legacy built upon
Dysfunctional unmasked masses,
Gluttonous gaudily-robed dead.
But these moves we cut,
This love we trip fantastic
Across our burning deck is glorious;
Hand in hand at last.
And so . . .
Atomistic misappropriations of fun begin;
I say, ‘Hang onto your hat,’
You reply, ‘Hang onto your halo.’
Kissing hard, all our bones fuse
In unsurpassable symmetry;
A perfect shared breath,
Once baited, now held together forever.
We made it babe.
Never let me go.