The Estranged Attractor, image by AC Evans
SPEED AT FIRST SIGHT
(“I Am The Grinder”)
Dual operation zoom experts
have
perfectly formed bodies
liveliest
test flash and…control
Aspherical
modelling
fine
grain and stylish
but
interchangeable
Shadow details:
Sliding
doors in the evening light. Point.
“I am the
grinder”.
Details
sliding at first sight
in
the evening speed of light
detailed
shadows
But
interchangeable
stylish
fine grained
aspherical
control test…control
Flash body
formed:
perfect
zoom expert
dual
operation. Point.
“I am the
grinder”.
DREAM
FRACTAL AFFAIR
I
With grit in the knickers you name it we’ve got it
a voice, a Dalek in a wheelchair, a 3D Noddy and
a whole world of amusements.
Looking both ways escapades in city and other famous
hotspots
what sort of mind dreams that up as a party piece?
On the Sharon (Stone) right away bolt hammer flu
victim and
Boiiiiing! Here we all are in a purpose-built mansion,
a ‘Pink Palace’ in Theydon Bois where else?
II
Hand-finished winter special walkabouts
true taste magic moments wah-wah sirens
smooth security patrols apocalypse coming lend a hand!
Sharp smashing rave-up scenarios impervious to damage
uncertainty of chance leather jacket Pavlova’s dogs.
Discover her secrets her minimalist Z-up
III
Meet the stars outrageous under fire
musical comedy touch and go
would you/wouldn’t you say ‘yes’ to the odd
meaningless encounter?
Pass it on. One-legged pervert vanishes into the
night.
A spiritual healer visits the lads at North Greenwich
Tube next to The Millennium Dome
-
they
wrap her round a Yamaha R1 100
and start messing about with spanners and ratchets
back of crane-grab
bin liners worn over cycling shorts just the thing
flowers of fire sombre skies.
The Lords may rule…The Lords
may…
GROWING UP IN TIGER BAY
Surrounded
by fat wheezy blokes in late middle age
(manic
and manipulative)
endless
CCTV footage probably sooner rather than later
(icy
bitch find the switch)
across
erased time masochist mode giveaway getaway
infamous
street like Reeperbahn
divide-erase-search-move-combine-detach
brainteasers
screamed
“ICY BITCH…” like no tomorrow
Wannabe
Poshsportyscarybaby?
Wannabe
Ally? Wannabe Buffy?
Wrong
move I guess Omega is equal to or greater than One.
No
one knows how
divide-erase-search-move-combine-detach
white
rose winter femina alba mutilated
kids shift product
chief
executive grinned cruel mirthless market-driven smile
behind
his shiny desk fabulous paperweight
arse-kissing
gun-totting boffo locals fall in line for groupie abuse
quiet
shy sensitive bored teenagers get plastic dope hooters
when
all they want is to be saved from growing up here
divide-erase-search-move-combine-detach
in
Tiger Bay Drone City West
rotten floorboards broken windows
weird
messages in the barcodes share dreams:
fantasies
of Glastonbury pubs shopping hugs poetry
laughter
soul-mates astrology
giggling
gingers loveable schoolgirls possibly gay
divide-erase-search-move-combine-detach
escape
from here
with
foxy intelligent hippie ladies – anything
goes.
Anything.
THE OBSCURE NATURE OF TURBULENCE
In
the mind’s eye a Dream Fractal is a way of seeing infinity
all
the mirrors on Earth but none of them reflect me
imagine
a dreamscape posthuman era
long
chats chemistry passion undercover mission
find
Estranged Attractor exit mainstream
The Lords may rule…The Lords may burn…
Act
in The Void beautifully gratuitous
flurry
of lexical mixology & techno text
lurid
fusion
appearance
of Store Detective From The Future
Omega
Lightning
frightening
blinked in strange Earthlight where am I?
Structure
treatment motifs theme context all unfamiliar territory
no
plan from Dr. Hexagon
helter
skelter Riot Grrrls reinvent metaphysics no knickers
emit
laser death-ray
post
implosion condition of contemporary culture
tunnel
of hate slipped her a fiver
The Lords may rule…The Lords may burn…
Blasphemies
anything/ something sombre skies
‘nice
bloke’ but fiery and salacious
Strobe
Magnum in Drone City beyond Hollow Hills
notoriously
elegant (coat and shirt both second-hand)
leery
beer boys in bad make-up prowl stratosphere
probing
for her toggled draw-string memories
bizarre
communications
highlight obscure nature of turbulence
The Lords may rule…The Lords may burn…
Find
wave function of all dreams everywhere
anywhere
sort
of sub-atomic event. Perhaps…
THOSE
JUNKYARD HYMNS
Behind the line as if
by magic (those junkyard hymns)
watch out live rail
explodes mysterious numbers
pornography of public
obscenity
pylon legs low
buildings steps up grass bank
darkened colonnades
escalator of love secret life
of multi-storey car
parks
empty back-streets high
rise phantasms spectral walkways
spiralling into the
gloom flooded fields distant trees
still waters
so deep… so deep…
THE
ESTRANGED ATTRACTOR
I
knew the Estranged Attractor lived in phased-out space
yo-yo-ing up and down
round and round here there and everywhere
turn
on ball of foot, derisory, ruthless laugh. Overcast sky.
In walked this canny old wizard sorta
like Gandalf the Grey
in
an ankle-length sixties maxi-coat. Rainbow path (night was falling)
dilapidated caravan,
two dish aerials, take out the guesswork, open the candy box,
phone the signalman, read a good book, cut
a long story short. So,
they blew their minds
nervous tick tock tick tock tick tick tick
…and Booooom! Jet Wash Here.
No drama school for scandal g-g-g-git
off git up git out git going
git it in your soul, angel polished my
windscreen. Somewhere questions were asked.
Frosted grass early
morning head in noose hint of desperation
such
modesty butters no parsnips. Stumped humped thumped and a –
I
knew the Estranged Attractor lived…(reprise)
TWENTIETH
CENTURY GIRL
I reeeeeally am a true twentieth century girl
a futuristic beauty, a
swinging dolly with
va-va-voom body
language
and cutie-cutie baby-doll looks:
so I gulped down a
Chinese Lantern
slipped in a Birdy
Breeze Block,
dragged out my
bi-stretch zip-suit,
my eighteen carat
gold-plated rope-chain,
my up-to-the-minute
zig-zag top,
my best split skirt
with loop backs,
all-over sequins,
padded micro-fibre hips
and flared, detachable snaffle-bars,
my luxury unisex fleece-wraps and chain-link
razor-wire rocket lamps.
The outfit was permanent and
painless;
it had a titanesque
surreality
and plenty of eyesores – if only you knew.
THE
CEREMONY
Where are you?
Actually I bought this
in Ibiza at Popcorn Utopia
a pop cornucopia next
to Acid Heaven
hot-pants little shorts
catsuits
faux-femmes on the borderline
array of jocks smorgasbord of beefcake
goosey-goosey gander
forbidden grooves and hands-in-the-air
anthemic chart choons.
Trail of destruction left by loony lodger
on run from one-off party night ‘ceremony’
happy hour mystic crafts crystal balls and tarot/ rune consultations.
The ultimate in stylish hidden agendas
descent into colourful language
(zoinkkkk!!!) no chaser.
Off centre nympho
purist launched in a blaze of glory
(but feeling like a
strand of overcooked spaghetti)
I
ran through a hundred positions:
cobbled courtyards
shadowy cloisters clunk and you’ll miss it
re-mix the night sounds
morbid but it’s beautiful just beautiful.
I spoke out and was
branded a jam roly-poly, treated like a piece of shit
by the goons on the
door, told to die young stay pretty unassuming
incorporate the reverse
geometry of doomy displaced urban settings.
Love my platforms.
Am I a wave? Am I a
particle? I live on borrowed time…
The Lords may…zapped by
a –
--AC Evans
