The Mask Scene

The Mask Scene hit the party.
The mark of Legion on each face.
The Mask Scene take to the dancefloor.
Strike one down and two more take their place.

The Mask Scene got will to power
Say they've got shoes to fill.
They reassure the host, whose smile's a ghost.
They're only here with time to kill

The Mask Scene got culture of change.
And you can hear them say.
On our way.
ON OUR WAY!

The Mask Scene beckon to the belles and beaux
An offer they dare not refuse
They slow dance while they wait for the capture of the state
The Mask Scene are making the news.

The scenesters are rolling the drunks down the hill.
Their masks are starting to fall.
From the commanding heights they bid us goodnight.
That damn mask scene is running it all.

The Mask Scene got culture to change
And you can hear them say.
On our way.
ON OUR WAY!

Let's Occupy Valentine's! My first live performance

Having only two weeks to organise our Escape The Cheese alternative Valentine's fundraiser, we went in house for our spoken word. 

For the first time ever in thirty six years of existence, I performed live last Friday.

I recited the following little number unaccompanied but I can't help feeling that somewhere in here there's a Flanders & Swann or Fry & Laurie number waiting to get out.

And yeah, I didn't invent the idea of Occupy Valentine's. Better and brighter minds have gone before...

Let's Occupy Valentine's 

Let's occupy Valentine's,
And set up camp in Clinton's,
Liberate the hearts and flowers,
And set free all the kittens,
For what good is a day, packed full of cliche,
To single, couple or beast?
You pay to express yourself,
Mostly just stress yourself,
It's the wafer-thin mint at the feast!

O! Let's occupy Valentine's
It's really rather stupid
Remember we're the 99
And all gang up on Cupid
For that cherubic kid, is a vampire squid,
Wrapped round the heart of romance!
Don't do things the clone way
Do Valentine's your way
Like a Strictly Come Dancing Show Dance!

So we'll occupy Valentine's,
We'll change that paradigm,
From compulsory kitsch,
Away we shall switch,
One Feb 14th at a time!

Hear Magpiemoth read Christmastery and more!

You can hear me read Christmastery - my seasonal poem for 2012 - alongside other Christmas treats on the Bibby Factors Christmas compilation.

Many thanks to Adam Ings, who compiles a set of Christmas tracks every year and then makes them available on Soundcloud

Other than my own contribution, my other three favourite tracks are:

Drivin' Home For Christmas (In My Van) by Nathan's Belly - A sweary Baby Bird take on the Chris Rea ... er ... classic.
Rock 'n' Roll Santa by Lindsey Dupler & Adam Ings (feat Viola) - Exactly what it says on the (shortbread) tin
Cheryl The Mince Pie by Ruth Baker -  If Peaches did a Christmas record it would probaby sound like this.
 

Gin & Flamingoes present Christmastery - final version

For the second year running, I've been working on a spoken word piece for the Bibby Factors Christmas compilation. Here's a final version.

Any resemblance to a certain best-seller is entirely intentional.

“It is time” he says “It is time” says he

As the clock strikes twelve on Christmas eve

“Sign this contract and enter my dark yet glamourous world of X-M-A-S”

“And holy crap!” thinks she for the twenty-fourth time

That night; struck dumb by his ridiculous handsomeness (insert four repetitive paragraphs here)

She signs in golden, glittery ink, and that's that.

“Now”, he says, “Now” says he

“Here are the Rules you must follow for me.

Be of good cheer from dusk till dawn

Have a Santa Stop sign on your lawn

Never refuse a mince pie

Obey Christmas laws with a twinkle in your eye.”

“Behold my room of special toys.

For nice AND naughty girls and boys.

Come my love! It would seem rather timid,

To make the Dr Who Christmas Special your hard limit.

And there may be times you cannot go out

Until you've partaken of the Christmas sprout.”

Though the millionaire toy-maker acted so grim

- in his red woolly jumper with festive trim -

Oh my, our heroine was drawn to him

Isn't he Byronic, dontcha think?

With his glower and power and Christmas kink?

She had realised deep in her medulla oblongata

That these festive fetishes were his desiderata

Her inner goddess saw it as a good sign

That his favourite tune was Mistletoe and Wine

As Foucault The Red Nosed Reindeer played

They danced until the Eve became Christmas Day

But as Yule went on she regretted her decision

His baubled palace seemed more like a prison

She realised her character was badly drawn

And had fallen from fanfic into supermarket porn

And he: more arsey than Darcy; from that voice

Issued endless demands that denied her Christmas choice.

On and on he went, sternly.

Every festive detail spelt out, eternally

“Stuff. The. Turkey.

It's in the contract.

Watch. The. Queens. Speech.

It's in the contract.

Lose. To. Me. At. Scrabble.

It's in the contract.

Deck.The.Halls.

It's in the contract.

Drink. The. Sherry

It's in the contract.

Morecambe. And. Wise.

It's in the contract

Flambe. The. Figgy. Pudding.

It's in the contract.

Pull. The. Cracker.

It's in the contract.

Read. The. Joke

It's in the contract.

Laugh. (Ha. Ha. Ha).

It's in the contract.

Eat. The. Sprouts.

It's in the contract.”

With chains of tinsel and of paper

She bound him with the product of her own labour

So that when he woke upon Boxing Day

She fixed him with a smile and a spoon to say

“Eat. The. Sprouts.

It's in the contract.

“Eat. The. Sprouts.

It's in the contract.”

The CAPSLOCK King

The Capslock King is shouting again 
With love, with joy, with mild exasperation 
At the life he leads 
Strange the lack of punctuation 
As he reports, exhorts, confuddles the meaning of LOL 
Exhales for pause 
THEN HOLLERS

NB - Some people I know do status updates in caps ironically, as an intentional stylistic tic. Relax, this is not about you.

Gin & Flamingoes presents Christmastery - draft of spoken word piece

For the second year running, I'm working on a spoken word piece for the Bibby Factors Christmas compilation. Here's a good if not yet finalized draft.

Any resemblance to a certain best-seller is entirely intentional.

And yes, the ending in particular still needs some work.

Christmastery

“It is time” he says “It is time” says he

As the clock strikes twelve on Christmas eve

“Sign this contract and enter my dark yet glamourous world of X-M-A-S”

“And holy crap!” thinks she for the twenty-fourth time

That night; struck dumb by his ridiculous handsomeness .

She signs in golden, glittery ink, and that's that.

“Now”, he says, “Now” says he

“Here are the Rules you must follow for me.

Be of good cheer from dusk till dawn

Have a Santa Stop sign on your lawn

Never refuse a mince pie

Obey Christmas laws with a twinkle in your eye.”

“Behold my room of special toys.

For nice AND naughty girls and boys.

“Come my love! It would seem rather timid,

To make the Dr Who Christmas Special your hard limit.”

(she realised deep in her medulla oblongata

That these festive fetishes were his desiderata)

“There may be times you cannot go out

Until you've partaken of the Christmas sprout.

Eat. The. Sprouts.

It's in the contract.

Eat. The. Sprouts.

It's in the contract.”

Though the millionaire toy-maker acted so grim

Oh my, our heroine was drawn to him

Isn't he Byronic, dontcha think?

With his glower and power and Christmas kink?

Her inner goddess saw it as a good sign

That his fiscal Cliff was Mistletoe and Wine

As Foucault The Red Nosed Reindeer played – a composition of his own design -

They danced until the Eve became Christmas Day

And on and on he went, sternly.

Every festive detail spelt out, eternally

“Eat. The. Sprouts.

It's in the contract.

Watch. The. Queens. Speech.

It's in the contract.

Lose. To. Me. At. Scrabble.

It's in the contract.

Deck.The.Halls.

It's in the contract.

Drink. The. Sherry

It's in the contract.

Want. The. Figgy. Pudding.

It's in the contract.

Pull. The. Cracker.

It's in the contract.

Read. The. Joke

It's in the contract.

Laugh. (Ha. Ha. Ha).

It's in the contract.”

Bind him as he sleeps

With chains of tinsel and paper

So that when he wakes upon Boxing Day

Greeted him with a spoon, and a smile and say

“Eat. The. Sprouts.

It's in the contract.

“Eat. The. Sprouts.

It's in the contract.”

Cut-up poem experiment – Forty Thousand In Gehenna

(original book by C J Cherryh)

Additional non-citizen personnel
Stocked in dock at Cyteen station
Stepwise, we inch up-ramp
Joyless, we are gathered
To build a world
The Governor
(soon we shall call him Governor)
He knows who lives
In the down-spaces of the ship
Experienced and eerie
He tells us that the world is
To be landed and loved
Newport, Year One
Green forest of saplings
On a hazy shore
But we earth-movers will build there
Locate our assignments
Start our work
And how we fare
You have no true idea.

Method

- Use percentile dice to randomly select pages from among first 100 of book
- Use dice to randomly select sentences
- Select key phrases in sentences
- Arrange phrases to reassemble narrative and create poem
- Tweak phrases until content.

Bibliography

Forty Thousand in Gehenna is an SF novel by C J Cherryh about the colonisation of a new world. Its most striking feature is the 'Azi', non-citizen clones transported with the colonists to be labourers and serfs, programmed to serve and taken through space in scenes reminiscent of Brave New World spliced with the Long Passage of slave ships from Africa.

I picked the book for this experiment mainly because it had the word 'Gehenna' in the title – Cherryh's written much better, more interesting books than this – and I was looking for a poem I could try out my Wolves In The Throne Room-inspired black metal voice on. :-)

Timothoth presents Sing-yule-arity: SF horror poetry at its most unspeakable

As the winter has finally arrived, I'm belatedly posting my first ever attempt at spoken word. It was written for Adam Ings' annual Bibby Factors Christmas compilation and recorded by Jim Kennedy. Big thanks to both for helping me make this happen!

True to form, it's a gothic horror story about the dangers of leaving artificial intelligences in charge of Christmas.

The recording on the compilation, recorded outside in the rain for additional lo-fi effect, can be found here, while the text is below.

The rest of the compilation is probably awesome, but as the speakers have blown on my laptop, I'm taking this on faith at time of going to press.

All feedback welcome, but be gentle. I may even write more. :-)

Sing-yule-arity

I'm the last man alive
Within 25 miles
And I'm not feeling the Christmas spirit
Though the snow is falling and the songs are calling
From every little high-tech-old-world booth
In this android market

So come ye, so faithful to your programming
And tell this last lookout, this not so merry gentleman
What kind of Beast
Has sledged its way to Bethlehem to be born?

Cause it's the middle of July,
And I don't know why,
These Yuletide Brynners got things going outta season,
But there's a star overhead and it shines a deep red,
On this Fimbulwinter, cyber-Santa, pine-clone, smart-snow, angel-glow,
Mask scene playing out below.

And hark, herald!
So joyless in your triumph,
And tell this last look-out, this bleak midwinterer,
What digital beast,
Has sledged its way to Bethlehem to be born.

Down we go, gently go,
Into the LED-lit, terabit grotto,
Where Lady Gray Goo and her recondite, Stakhanovite nanites,
Will reshape you in a form better suited,
To the most terrifying time of the year.

Now I have seen,
I have seen,
And this last lookout, this vain-taking cavalry caller,
Knows what singular beast,
Has sledged its way to Bethlehem to be born.

(with some apologies to W B Yeats for the steal)