Poem
Paul
Performers
Paul and Transodin
In my time there were no rules.
We danced where angels feared to tread in the company of fools.
We were dogs underneath the table of the gods.
Fresh blood in the primeval mud, players on the board after the flood.
Searching for the lost chord. We heard words unspoken like quicksilver in slow motion Then the fallout began, some of us sank some of us swam.
Loves flame flickered In the sexual rip-off Mind games played in the masquerade In the tangled forest of dreams I´m a catalyst but on this 21st century beach life so non-descript. My hearts desire out of reach across the rainbow bridge in Valhalla where slain warriors feast.
Hey Mr Lighthouse keeper, I’m a Viking asylum seeker Take me to your dream weaver, let me get a toehold in this world Around which a serpent is curled.
Help me stay complimentis In a generation of misfits Hanging on by our finger tips Puppets in the hands of the spirits.
This slave don’t suffer fools Got one foot in the grave It’s a new set of rules.
Don’t know how to behave Power is the motivation Money is the blood of the nation.
Adam and Eve were together before the fall But if you lived forever you’d be sick of it all That’s cool like a deep freeze Compulsion is a social disease Fresh schemes, false starts, stale dreams.
Hey Mr Lighthouse keeper, I’m a Viking asylum seeker Take me to your dream weaver, let me get a toehold in this world Around which a serpent is curled.
It all happens so fast Anyway, the bird has flown Tomorrow comes forgets the past No need to be on your own Sitting on the edge of a knife Like a frightened rabbit In the kindergarten of life. Hey Mr Lighthouse keeper, We are ships in the night All I can do is project when you get me in your sight Take me to your dream weaver, my world stands on its head
Hey Mr Lighthouse keeper, I’m a Viking asylum seeker Take me to your dream weaver, let me get a toehold in this world Around which a serpent is curled.
If you play the game and get lucky But you still just another chicken in Kentucky If I had a conscience id shatter the silence Stop sitting on the fence If you got a body that’s your fate If you in a skin jump right in Take a breather and celebrate Switch on your love receiver Goddesses play on the highway Love hurts but like a Double edge sword truth comes first And if the stars fall out of the sky Oh lord, Its only shooting stars…Venus wrapped in the arms of mars
Words – Paul
Concept, Photographer, Sound and Video Editing – Detlef Schlich
Photographer Paul/Transodin – Cecilia Baltimore
Catering @ Hagerty´s Boatyard ©Cute Alien TV 2017
When this boat Esther Colleen was sold to me in 1999 she was already 60 years old, and the license fetched a million pounds, the boat was the small change. That represents 1000´s of tons of fish, the pillage of the ocean in the 20th century. She bought me from Cornwall to West Cork and was my floating home for 2 years. 7 years neglect while I got engaged, travelled across Europe and South America, before getting traumatized by the death of my fiancée and daughter in 2012 and my life went on hold. By the time I got the boat into the shipyard the machinery had seized up, rot got into the timber and the scale of the project was too deep for my pocket so shes going to the breakers. An end of an era for me, a broken dream, blood sweat and tears in the making and moments of exhilaration at sea. On her last trip to the ship yard, we lost power on a fresh morning at dawn of the deserted village of Baltimore. We were blown helplessly onto the shore, but wind and tide conspired to gently nudge her neatly onto the quay, tucked behind another trawler, as if by an unseen hand. Many times the ship spoke to me like that, my projection if you like but a living symbol working in my dreams cast on the most potent element of the sea.