Thursday 31st July

Shows : 3

Poetry is indeed something divine… it is the perfect & consummate surface & bloom of all things


My day begins with showers & the sun
These ways of Poesia’s best begun
As I await a catalyst or two
I taste a leaf-tip plasma-drip of dew
Taking a stroll down South Fort Street, & then
Bare left down Ferry Road, bare left again
Up Bonnington, as through me verse-force flew

Lets go, lets go, listening to Disco
Grooving to the music up Broughton Street
Past John Lewis, a better class of ass
Has bobbl’d into town, appears the rears
Of prancers from France, Dutch ballerinas
Young highland dancers, thin senorinas
& well-nourish’d babes from Kensington!

I meet a mate, sweet Dave McMenemy
He’d fallen for the Mumble twelve months past
A Fair Trade dealer, time upon his hands
He loves to ride his cycle into town
& there embrace the world with his wise words
When as we share a beer down the Pleasance
We meet a handsome chap from Bournemouth borne.

His name is Tim, a twenty-two year old
Who’d overtimed his way into a room –
East Claremont Court – & started to review
The shows he’ll see, some uiversity
Of all that rolls bohemian thro life,
“Welcome aboard!” I offer him the keys
To all this city’s culture, Mumbling free

The Pleasance empire spreads oer the Southside
As up to Bristo Square I surge thro sun
& take a seat in the Grecian Queen’s Dome
To see three student players do their thing
Jane Upton’s Swimming, to a sea-swell sound
We sail into a funny beach-shack world
Of pretty workers struggling thro life’s tides

I loved the chat, oploaded with aplomb
The street-slang of this ever-cocky land
Of nigger babies in a white girls pram
Of masturbation blistering the hand
Of tits & minges, sucking cocks & crabs
Of little lives bounden by teenage ties
For this is real life in a compact guise!

Time swung & I cruised up onto the Mile
The traffic stopped to serve the grand Tattoo
& there met two new Mumblers, Jess & Derm,
They’re working on their own show this August
Spectrum – a moving play on Autism
On every second day, & inbetween
They’ve joined my team, & keen I am theyre here

We went into the HUB, the EIF’s
Magnificent castle that towers oer
Edina’s gorgeous stresst, & fields & hills
& there we met the Press Team, who met us
With cocktails quite delicious, passion fruit
Syrup swirling on the tongue, as talk
Refined, defined, our Mumbling yet to come


& what a bag of goodies gave they us
A whiskey bottle, pens & notebook too,
Fudge quite excuisite, tickets for two shows
A splendid Christmas stocking for the press,
& thanking them we went off once again
Into the evening air, to Fountainbridge
Where No Fit Circus, too, were welcoming…


… We press-types to the launch of their own show
The baroque swirl of acrobatic feats
They’ve monickered Bianco, vibrant feast
Of moving cages & a tight, slick band,
Conducive to a wonderful array
Of thoughts in motion to sensory gusts
Of theatre, spectacular unbound!

As soon as the booze ran out, I did one
Happy that I had two happy guys
To write the review, Jess was scribbling down
The highlights that Bianco had inspired,
The handsome, muscular tightrope walker
The spinning black girl arching like a worm
& that band, supreme as music’s muse enjoys!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>