Cathedrals of the New Age?

Walk the length and see the yellows turn to red....

Abandon liquids, all ye who enter here.....

On my travels this weekend to perform with Christie at the Golden Years show in Antwerp, I had to endure four flights, due to connecting both ways in Spain’s capital. This presented me with the opportunity to wander through Madrid airport’s spectacular new addition, Terminal 4.  Looking up at this incredible structure brought to mind comparisons with our classic Cathedrals of days gone by, and I began to think these were in fact, the cathedrals of the new age, where we pay homage to St,Christopher, the patron saint of travellers. Fanciful perhaps, but we are certainly in the lap of the gods as we hurtle skywards in those metal tubes!

Vaulted ceilings rise

To echo Gothic splendours

Whither the departure gates?

And whither do they send us?

Walk these endless hallways

With portals on all sides

Cathedrals of a new age

Where we fly the friendly skies

by Kev Moore © 2009

Fair Exchange

Fair Exchange

You travel far
We travel further
You pay your money
Yet we pay none
Indeed, We’re paid to make this pilgrimage
To stages large and small
To stand before you, under lights
In every concert hall
You give, We give
Receive this gift of music
As we receive your cheers
That roll over the stage like waves
Year after loyal year
We never take for granted
The effort that you make
The hard-earned cash you’re spending
On the music we create
But I’ve seen the looks of happiness
That stretch into the distance
The glum into the glad profoundly rearranged
And I think it’s safe to say
The contract made, unspoken
Could be called a Fair Exchange.

© Kev Moore August 2009

Like Dominoes

Like Dominoes

The days fall like dominoes
One, Two, Three, Four
They are relentless, until the last
A cascade, a waterfall of time, unslowing
Enjoy the moments in between
Enjoy the seldom seen
If we could stop an instant and hold it in our hand
But it ripples through our fingers like a grain of sand
And the days repeat and disappear
Too fast to seize the moment
Too quick to grasp the portent
Until the end of our toppled life comes into view
A pile of days, all used by you
Like dominoes.

© Kev Moore August 2009

A Brush with Poetry -1- : Aftermath

Cafe Crem being above all the place where artists, musicians, writers, poets, etc. share and combine  their art, we (Miki & Kev Moore) will present you here this collaborative work between us,  which we initially called “A Brush with Poetry”.  It is a “third art form” created by Kev´s interpretation of Miki´s paintings through poetry and accompanying music.

We will start with Aftermath which was the first of the series.

“Aftermath”
(click on the arrow below the picture to hear the music and Kev Moore reciting the poem)

….

Below Kev Moore performing the Brush with Poetry series at a Cafe Gallery in Mojacar (Provincia de Almeria, Spain)

By Miki & Kev Moore

Friends

Don’t be fooled by the title – it’s not very friendly at all!

Friends

Hello, you’re nice
And you have lots of friends
I’ve been on the outside
Living to the bitter end

Can I come in?
Enjoy the fun?
I sure do like the view
And if I’m really careful
I can appear like you

But look,
I’ve my own playground now
You’ll have to make amends
It’s a lonely wind that blows through yours
Cos I stole all your friends.

© Kev Moore 2009

The Lazy Poet

He went through life oblivious

To all good things

That were his fortune to behold

The beauty of a summers morning

The joy at seeing children

Welcomed back into the fold

The sight of two old people

Walking hand in hand

Or swallows heading southwards

In the sky

Never seemed enough

To stir his hand to writing

He’d just observe, in passing, with a sigh

And all this depth of wonder

Washed in silent splendour

O’er his heart

He never grasped the need

To write it down, and play his part

For there are wonders in this world

that someday maybe lost

We fail to tell about them at our peril…

…And the cost to each man’s soul

Each infinitesimal  amount

Diminishes by sad degrees

Just what we are about

So the old, old lazy poet

In the autumn of his years

Pledged to write of childhood dreams

And all his hopes and fears

But all too little, much too late

As preparing now to meet his fate

He watched the cloud formations in the sky

And he put aside his pen and let a tear roll down his cheek

Onto the empty page, the lazy poet died.

© Kev Moore, 10am, in bed, 11/07/06

B.S. Wattenbuttel

I dabbled a little in nonsense verse when writing the song Strawberry House, (which may appear somewhere, sometime)  and decided to take it a little further with this little offering about a strange man:

B.S. Wattenbuttel

B.S.Wattenbuttel lived in a room
That he kept very clean with an imaginary broom
He would sweep all the dust and the cobwebs away
With a wave of his hand, but just the same, they would stay
And the days turned to months and the months turned to years
And B.S.Wattenbuttel was up to his ears
In the dust and the cobwebs he thought he’d removed
He feared he might die, and so it was proved
There was no fuss or inquest when he was found dead
For B.S.Wattenbuttel never got out of bed.

© Kev Moore 2007  text and artwork – all rights reserved

The name of the character came, believe it or not, from a German roadsign!

I love the night

Viv’s last entry was full of dark imagery, and it brought to mind this poem that I wrote a couple of years ago. It’s inspired by a character in a Dean Koontz novel, and a liberal (possibly the wrong word!) helping of Alice Cooper….

I love the Night

I love the night
The stillness that it brings
The sweet decay
Before the blackbird sings

The cold dead air
That fills my darkened wings
I soar and swoop,
To prey
Upon the unaware
Who through the day
Will dare to dream
Of dripping nameless things

I love the night
I yearn its cold embrace
As I take flight
Cold moon caress my face

My jaws of death
Will welcome you inside
Your battered body buoyed
On mornings blood red tide

© Kev Moore June 1st, 2006

The Tomato Train

In response to Viv’s “Sun Worshipper’s lament”, I present the following, inspired by one of Miki’s paintings. it can be heard, narrated by me, (in an affected broad Yorkshire accent)  with original backing music HERE.

THE TOMATO TRAIN

Look! It’s the Tomato train

That takes the tourists to the beach

And brings them back again

They proudly wear their blisters

On their knotted hanky heads

And overdose on UV rays

‘Til clinically dead

Oh! the kiss-me-quick brigade

That coax my rising bile

They turn this sun-drenched paradise

Into the Golden Mile

With “I Heart England” T-shirts

And tattoos with “I luv Mam”

Regaled in socks and sandals

And legs like strawberry jam

With beer on tap

And old cloth cap

And English breakfast fayre

You’d swear on first impression

That Spain was never there

But I’ve a cure, a remedy

For this sad colonial pain

Tie every bugger to the tracks

And ride with glee across their backs

In OUR tomato train!

© Kev Moore 22/06/06

Thoughts on a Staircase

Here is yet another poem from my pre-professional musician days, which again gives an insight into my state of mind, and desire to break free from the confines of gainful employment!

A staircase recently

Thoughts on a Staircase

I can’t be what I want to be
I’m trapped inside an industry
I’m labelled worthless
Maybe that’s not far wrong
The only things I offer
Are my drawings and my songs

I don’t think that I’ve been understood
But I can stand the test of time
My thoughts are there
Should people want them
But don’t forget that they are mine

And the drip from the tap
In the bathroom of my flat
Marks the minutes and the seconds of my day
As I stagger up the staircase, dimly lit
To watch the ailing sunlight fade away

It’s not a pleasant world in which we live
But my music serves to bring a smile to some
And if one in a million people love to hear our music
It can’t be a crime to try to please someone.

Copyright Kev Moore September 18th, 1978