CONSTELLATIONS
2019
Textual collage, fan fiction
​
Commissioned by Vivid Projects for Supernova: A Tribute to David Bowie
one.
God bless, this is a national occasion! Yes!
Son’s, you will be full of glory.
The paper’s today will speak of your faces
And tomorrow’s of your miles.
The size of the rise takes rich name claims.
I really have praised God for this summer’s day.
Who knows if we will see you!
You may live I’m sure, you may live, you may live I’m sure.
Good look men.
Commencing engines, fly our flag! Tripper the guns! God’s love!
It’s twelve.
I think it’s gonna be a long long time, ground control. I want to believe, so look
for amends away from wall to wall merchandise and the room of label slogans
of our last name. I’m of my quite occasional name.
Bewildered, we walked into our new world. It begins.
two.
I’ve. I’ve saw. An electric wanderer, a face of the Earth, but holding eyes like the
venusians. Coming and coming and coming.
Holding just ragged blankets, a hessian pillow,
A photograph of a woman called Janine in a white veil
And some rope in a paper bag.
Tall and very unwashed. Even though many night had been passed on the floor
in washrooms.
Very unwashed but rich of life.
Of age but as child.
Writing an untold chorus inside that mind and kicking pebbles with felt shoes
along the road,
Down to the village of Freecloud, close to Rye.
The townsmen keep thoughts of… well, who knows what? They exchanged
bitter eyes and states of rage word and they scanned very up and very down.
Can deafened ears believe their new heaven?
But their children bathed in the soul of the strange
And seeds of rainbow people began to look for dirt.
It was as if they could hear the skies calling the growing grass.
The structure of his smile slipped life into your belly.
Among the Freecloud cottages with the style of a London house.
Every face eagle eyed his solemn walking laugh.
Spy eyed, spy eyed.
Those hands played the little mandolin and clutched the wooden blood of that
village, rumbling it into a vibrant new madness. The crowd gathered around this
new heart. Heads for bowl of the good stream.
They imprisoned him,
But he’s tired and could use the sleep
And got into the corner.
The summer sun trickled ‘tween the walls as times past.
The hating heart is now a good heart, crying to believe.
By sunrise he was gone.
three.
“Father’s listening little rats!” he shrieks from the window. “I see you!”
We put our forehead on the window and look down at our world, nose to nose
with the stars.
“I’m not the man they think I am on Earth, oh no no no,
I’m your Major and Tom is your Queen!
Scream, damned utopia, I hear you, I dare you, I dare you!
I do do do do do do do do not care for your snow,
Your mountain,
Your jewels,
Even your morning phallus.
Up hear we’re free!”
I dry the perspiration from my face and shoulder.
FOUR.
Pass out the party bag at dawn, my friends. We’re gonna gleam and glide all
night.
Peter sits and folds his business shirts. He’s gonna wear the sparkle sleeves.
“I want to go to bed in a different year and
I want to be laid by a wild woman and
I want to be in a tin machine in the sky like a boy I used to know.
The boy spitting from the mountain, the first turn eyed right through me.
Right through me. Right through me.
Maybe we can party when they land. I always want to see him now that we’re
older.
But I’m not in a dream land and I can not quite see those intense eyes in my
dazed mind anymore now,
As it lumbers day to day”.
The morning conscience burns and the dazed boy sweeps the wooden parquet
floor. He’ll have no joy but really needs the money. God knows there’s so much
patience.
FIVE.
We’d got a bag of ashes aboard.
Whose? Actions of peace and rebirth for a poor someone – a good mother, I
supposed.
So, I claimed as escort to her last resting place above the world, where God lived,
on the other side of the clouds.
We obliged and observed her bliss and we said fine words for her of peace and
love.
I said she talked about mystic things and would tightly close her eyes.
Her hand covered her ears like a little sparrow,
A thinker of such shrieking sweetness.
She lives for the sun in the afternoon and her son climbing on the boulders.
Fey ravaged by undetected pain.
She makes sure the boy eats and gives her good boy protein,
Which makes his brain so strong for the good grade card
And to dream of wings and eyes that look down at their planet.
I’m coming for my love, I’m coming for my love, I’m coming for my love.
Somewhat to where and what?
Passing through the open door, an exit from the powers of man.
I braved time standing and staring at her tumbling travel
Because I need to see how free going to God was.
Saved from my other,
From pushed inside a dreadful case.
Hard and planted.
The state of today stayed.
You live good, you lose good. Here I’m free and it’s the last of me.
Keep your way to the to the to the to the to the to the to the to the to the to the
to the to the to the to the to the to the to the to the to the to the to the to the
to to to to to to to to to to to to to to to to to to to to.
six.
“The tranquillity of blue steak in the hands of my treasured catholic wife, Tom.
That is what I want back.
I can see her clutching her purse in my head. I dream of her grace.
I was a father down there.
Can I still be one up in the sky? Or am I just Major to my children now?
I don’t believe that I will touch those Swedish pigtails another time.
Is Janine amazed down there on the ground, Tom? Is Janine proud of me?
Her Major and his friend Tom.
Not on the same ground as her toes,
But rotting as they fly toward God.
She can’t have a letter, but they pay Janine my cash. Take my keep, I can’t spend
it.
You’ll get a major fortune when me and Tom catch our fate, Janine, my love.
‘With the depths of sympathy this paper will shape your finance.
Hide those sincere eyes sadly with glasses and fill time stewing jams’.
Janine, Janine, Janine, Janine.
‘Janine, cash in your Major, you are rich!!
Spend! Spend!
Don’t cry Janine, paint the stars on some bread!’
I’m gonna bless my girl with an honest house, Tom,” he said with a smile.
“But, God, did we make a mistake?”
seven.
I kissed madness when I danced with the Major in his helpless spaceship.
He had red shoes but moved with a blue soul,
Stepping the songs like the sun floating on a stream.
“Guess what Tom? We are free!
We should kiss like lazy killers on the run,” the Major slyly yawns,
An eye capture, catching, caught mine.
“We could command a hundred moon murders and not one of them need know,
you realise?”
I look down at the tomatoes floating in my tin. “Can
You feel the love to night, Tom?”
Madly, The Major laughs.
“Let us be laid, Tom, kick back,” he smolders and slightly
Slightly slightly slides down.
I look down at the ivory shoulder and stare at his ease.
He gave head so gently but happily broke God’s bones.
The shining thousand throat that crushed a thousand lovers.
My eyes closed.
I won’t worry because my captain didn’t.
Is that not just like him?
eight.
Some days we would fight and some days we were in love and once we were
sick.
I supposed it was because of the fear of the nothing that was everywhere.
Not occasional nothing. Nothing was in control.
We softly soared onwards through the nothing.
There’s an ecstasy in the desolation which I just can’t kill.
We’re raving empty and we can not control it.
From ground to far ground, I’ve stumbled in to cry of hell and help.
One cry breaks off.
“Can you tell me? Can you believe in God?” I asked.
“God scares me. If God is real, then I know that we have got beyond too close
and touched his ground”.
I’ve clean down and I polish the tin of the machine.
For me.
I’m way way up and I’m way way above and I’m all else ways ago. For me. For
me. For me. For me. For me.
For me. For me.
For me.
It seemed machines must be alone all of the time,
So I read my book in the control room quite a lot
To cease the solitary drown and
Leave little lights so my machines can sleep.
A token touch of love, for me?
Surely for their life as well as mine.
I’m gonna believe.
We guide each other.
I saw and I read. We read to one another.
Efforts to stay out of madness
Above and inside my dream machine.
NINE.
I climb down the dark shaft to the burnt ignition and check my lady machine, my
man machine, but there’s no promises.
Think, White Hangman.
It’s just like some dreadful dream I believe I once had.
Really very badly, really very badly, really very. Can you tells me?
The multitude of sockets ploughing right round rows, like the spleen of the
capsule, gave no indication. Something flickers to stop and I sigh as backs came
away upon the slit. I test it and the test lies. Only one way must out the counters.
My way through. My way through. My way through.
There’s something wrong. Can you hear me ground control?
Won’t you hear my message? Can I demand defence?
The spare won’t source it as the infiltrated machine diversion and pain goes. The
refrain sets and the recall sets. The strong strong strength is strain and steeped.
The machine for the counter is ruptured – somehow a great force right through.
Unchained walls collocate force, rushed powers decide ours card. What, where,
whose cause?
Hand me the axe now, hand me the axe. A blocked blast. Quite clean. Front cut
and backside cut. And crash and crash. The new remains settles.
Oh my God. Good knows. God knows. Oh my God. Good knows. God knows. Oh
my God. God knows. Good knows. Good knows. Good knows. Who knows, who
knows.
I just know. I’m I’m I’m I’m I’m I’m I’m I’m I’m I’m.
“Oh okay, you louse. Say you really want me. Let me. You take pills for pains, a
chew of concern, and rest your head on mine. Our circuits down for good and
ground control is silent.
Blind Braque, tighten that friend rope on the mountain”.We rest on blue sheets and I face face face faced you, talking of things on our
old world that we care for.
You’ll say of the old track road down to Freecloud. Of stoned mornings lying in
the sun, pronouncing satori and madness. I’m tie tie tired and you’re smashed.
I talk about the countdown, and of the time we tried to act in plays. We’d fight,
madly whirling of wood weapons that we built. You roared and you shook and
you’d kill me and I’ll be stabbed and slain. Slain and drop dead and you’d shout
to the crowd from the stands.
We’d smoke from a cream pipe and we wrote as if we were in The Doors.
You’d write statements of honest soul, where you spoke as if amazed to live and
amazed to look and amazed to hear. And I’d say occasional dazed dream words,
things that were wild and naïve, you know? And we thought that our mad
tongues moved mountains.
Where my far calls had cried? Through and through and through. Now we need
hope, not gross money. And credit won’t have much. Fainted tear ran far down.
But we knew we were wise!
God knows I fell in love most times, stretched ‘neath the hot sun and sitting far
before the gloom. I’ll need your times.
You were quite something. Oh my god, yea, you were quite something. Your so
your so your so your so your so your so so so so so so what?
You’d want all else and you got all from. Same thing. Want want want want want
want want want want. You’ll take. You take and you keep. You’ve it. You want
and you can and you have. You’re having all. Has, has, has. Your brainstorm
blows me out.
A someone whose power and love opened my eyes. I’ve.
I want to kill you and screw you, so I just kick you because I guess I love you
really. Could you? Could you really? I’ve surely somewhat drained my father’s
dream.
You’re top. We’re the tops. We’re the topest. We surprise strong women and
wish for wild treats. Have you ever? Have you ever? Have you ever?
“Place your hand in mine as my brother and I’ll hold on to keep you warm. You’re
hearing? It’s your Tom?”
TEN.
Major, rest your pretty head in that porcelain helmet.
It’s very different today.
We all party in the best cesspools now. We all can live it now.
You really believe in the wild people.
You talk to the peculiar other man.
Your talking brings her to the party.
That girl with the dampened face and the banker’s balloon dog
Stood among the weeping village of Freecloud
On hearing you’re gone.
It’s not the end. It’s not the end. It’s not the end. It’s not the end. As its is. Its is.
Is is is is is is is.
Freecloud still sings, though sadly from time to time.
A walking man and his magic brain and strange eyes made that cloud free.
The crowd was crying tissue its tears but crying for much party.
You live. You live. You live. You live. You live. You live.
You’re just live, just live, just live,
just live.
Lift off.