Prose, Poetry, Wordage, Life is a dance we must learn Into the night we will turn, Ballroom blitz, 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, 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, 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, Terpsichore Tango, Atomic, I'll stop the world and melt with you, apocalyptic hip-sync
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.