An evening of

 poetry

 music

and memories at the Roughler Club.

Mara Simpson

in Rough Trade West. some 30 minutes ago...

The ghosts of the 14th

I locked the door

and my ghost and I

walked down the unlit stairs.

We walked in silence down All Saints

murmured encouraging words to each other

as we walked down Lancaster

and became engulfed in silence once again

 as we reached Ladbroke Grove.

Somewhere half way down,

between the tower and the spire,

ghosts floated restlessly,

circling above the silent masses

all of whom were dressed in green.

My ghost rushed to embrace

the swarming cloud of silvery ghosts

that floated around in circles

twisting and turning in agony

yet touching and stroking one another

softly and tenderly,

sharing their love,

sharing their fears and frustrations,

sharing their anger and disbelief…

Looking for a way

to escape the hold of gravity

and the darkness

between the tower and the spire.

The people below met in silence

all of them aware that this was not their moment

it was the time for their restless ghosts,

a moment in time in which

the ghosts are given the opportunity to speak,

a moment in time in which

the ghosts are given the opportunity to be heard,

a moment in time in which

the ghosts might possibly be set free.

As we marched along the streets

the traffic stopped

the air stopped

the beat of the city stopped

and the marching crowd stopped every now and then

listening to the silent

thunder

of the ghosts,

letting the ghosts soak in the surroundings

they have almost forgotten

letting the ghosts of children run barefoot

along the empty Grove in January

After an hour of walking in silence

I set off back home

turning once or twice to see

If my ghost had bid farewell to his friends

and is following me

or have they suddenly

figured out how to escape gravity

and the darkness between the tower and the spire.

But even before I reached St. Marks

he was floating above my head

urging me to go home

where we will be alone,

away from the noise

away from the lights

away from the world

away from it all

sitting in the darkness

sipping single malt

talking to each other

as if there is no one else in this world.

As we talked, he surprised me by asking:

‘What is it like to be alive?’

I thought for a long time,

contemplating,

letting the question roll around the echoing waves

and finally settle in my restless mind

finding a place to throw its anchor

if only until the next storm

After a while I replied with a sigh

‘I have no idea.

I’ve been dead long time.’

We sat in silence

for the whole of next week

drawing the curtains

not allowing the world to speak.

Both of us were hoping next month will be better -

he would find a way to escape gravity

and I’ll stumble across a ray of light.

(first draft)

Sunčan P. Stone

North Kensington, 14^th – 16^th January 2018

Later on I recorded myself reading this poem of mine and a friend created a video for it. You can listen to it and see it here: https://youtu.be/4FolI9QY0_E

Afternoon ragtime

 with Ewan Bleach and his Cable Street Rag Band 

and the drummer saint from The Gator Dog Snappers

An evening with

 Swamp Stomp String Band

and Garance and the Mitochondries at Jamboree's temporary place in Three Colt Street.

Khalid and Samira

walking away from 2018, heading towards 2019.

Maxillaroxxmas - the Grenfell Tower Christmas fundraiser

 with Lola Aviva

 Loretta Heywood

 Tara Rez

 Segs Ruts 

The Egg and many more...

Michele and Romeo present

  with

 The

 Rosellas

 Ren Harvieu

 and of course Michele

and Romeo Stodart.

Helen McDonald

and the Future Groove at Acklam Village.

LOVE

Live music at the Monarch

 with the The Dream Brothers

 The Factory

 The Point

and Maxx Palmer.

Most evenings in Camden end in The Monarch

 and sometimes you can see Amber Peri

 Kenan Kian

and this time they were joined by Silva. 

December Saturday afternoon at Acklam

with Malphino

 Ubuntu Crew

 Tess

and Shywolf.

Bosham

at sunset

This time

 Michele 

invited Ned Roberts 

Benjamin Folke Thomas 

and Catherine Williams to come round and play.

I returned to Acklam after missing out a few weeks

where I listened to (and took a few photos of) Elsa

Vive le Rose

dans le Rough Trade West.

I am slowly getting back into

 going out with my camera, this time it was an acoustic guitar duo at Rough Trade, Jim Ghedi 

and Toby Hay.

(As you see I am slowly working my way up to the noisier ones)

Bollocks to Brexit!

as we say. 

Following the poetry trail

I arrived at the Poetry Pharmacy with William Sieghart (who was also the founder of the National Poetry Day, yey!) and I was prescribed the following poem 

(and hopefully this will help to get me on the road):

What if this road
by Sheenagh Pugh

What if this road, that has held no surprises
these many years, decided not to go
home after all; what if it could turn 
left or right with no more ado 

than a kite-tail? What if its tarry skin

were like a long, supple bolt of cloth,

that is shaken and rolled out, and takes

a new shape from the contours beneath?

And if it chose to lay itself down 

in a new way; around a blind corner, 

across hills you must climb without knowing 

what’s on the other side; who would not hanker 

to be going, at all risks? Who wants to know 

a story’s end, or where a road will go?

My first outing with a camera after my operation...

 and I decided to test the waters locally at an easy event with some spoken word

 sculptures

 paintings

 and more spoken word/music performances. 

A quick listen

to some live music before my operation on Tuesday.