Tag: film

Carnival Rides

~ mikebellwrites ~ Leave a comment

Walls of Death ask to
be peered at [leant in
over shoddy welding]

until a howl of breath
then provokes a spin
into a swirl of vertigo

So sleep – sleep alone
[shoot-em-up carnival
clamours don’t count]

In Super 8 minutes of
thrill-rides roll her tale
[fat men turned on by

her lickerish quartets
& spools flicked upon
her jerked-off screen]

Ride & orbit her hoops
painted red & 360-odd
tyre-rattled pine planks

Your fitted door shuts
too tight – no rider will
get out of there [alive]

St Margaret rode on a
Yamaha motorbike – a
2-stroke affair of 49cc

No one dares mention
Acapulco [not drugs or
death of La Quebrada]

You won’t have vitamins
[but you’ll always eat up
fantasy in script & lines]

& motorcycles will idle –
as that next show is set
to rewrite poetic rhyme

Still Reeling

~ mikebellwrites ~ Leave a comment

An Adler typewriter centre on a desk –
in a remote mountain resort [actually
Elstree – London ] – tricks by chippies
& gaffers – a fake Apollo landing too?
Eagles & minotaurs vex up on walls/
Locations by a second film crew/ Off
white to grey to haemorrhaged hues –
to a scene of clues – or red herrings –
or subliminal lies – no commentaries –
no sense by floors or corridor routes –
just a tracking shot following a small
child on his trike – pedalled & steered
as if another level of plots – carpets &
wall coverings set to confuse with all
eyes on another viewing/ Metaphors –
intents – a room examined every time
by film buffs & message seekers/ RIP
Stanley Kubrick – dead but still reeling

Also on Medium

Watch The Road

~ mikebellwrites ~ Leave a comment

I had exhorted myself
not to watch –
but my capacity to let
myself down
wins old momentum’s
slow ways/
A four-times-father-of../
More times
worse with [or without]
four of my own
on an uneven grey road/
I am alone –
having left her ring from
my limp finger/
She exited - from home/
I wait [bare]
without a firearm on us
[in my palm]/
No weapons left - apart
our deaths/
On that road from home
breath tires/
Pull - breathe out & watch
The Road

A poem about ‘The Road‘ – a film based upon Cormac McCarthy’s novel. I had promised myself never to watch it, but recent events have dulled my sensibilities

Also on Medium

The Birds

~ mikebellwrites ~ Leave a comment

He pauses his TV to work out what he’s watching [engage Google & explore]
Do you recall? Our effortless recount [any digits] ‘off pat’ [as we said] – Who
knows that motor? It’s an Aston DB2 being [too-hastily] driven with a brace
of fake lovebirds in Hitchcock’s first scenes in his film of The Birds / Driving
feral in pelts – heels & a rented motorboat – No, no bare dips on this road trip
She was clawed by Brylcreem Man & an insatiable gull / Neither artiste won
an Oscar [as we Google & explore] / Tippi Hedren lives on / Pleshette is dead

This Extra

~ mikebellwrites ~ Leave a comment

It was not a full day of reduced daylight
but the briefest of natural moments
on that calendar date – which passed
half recognised – like the waning film star

who I stood in for – another nacreous man
on a never-ending day of falsified hours –
My value fixed by his cast shadow
whilst I wore identical clothes –

I was being paid to be his tincture
on yet another identical film set –
My tired looks – which matched the actor –
put me under a long spot of sodium –

My winter solstice was over-shuttered
by age and disgrace under shorter days
of cuts and no light left to take again –
My ways of finding extra time are over

E140119

Harry Dean Stanton

~ mikebellwrites ~ Leave a comment

Paris, Texas, and H.D.S.,
add a neck slide Ry Cooder,
his strangled introduction,

over a peep show recall,
and Harry’s easy fitted drawl –
once told to let the costume act.

With the guitar’s skewered groans,
‘Yes they lived in a trailer home’,
his back, as directed, was turned.

He then shuffled off,
through the dust,
after a mother and son.

Rogue One: Review One

~ mikebellwrites ~ Leave a comment

A sideshow, a bit part of the story,
in a galaxy far, far away;
never closer to any ending,
and Troopers’ aim, as ever, astray:
Rough Rebels yell loudly for glory,
with occasional laughs at their knobs –
lit buttons pressed too randomly,
but, still they do the job.
A gathering of weird alien species,
stood around their circular table,
future knights, again myth-making,
think the Force is more than capable.
With a cameo from a long-dead actor,
heavy breaths from the ever-buffed Darth,
Rogue One sits nicely in the box set,
big returns on a brand we all love.

 

B-movie Bodies

~ mikebellwrites ~ Leave a comment

Hurry up and wait,
she laughed it,
with her American beauty,
re-cast in the shadows,
there, where we stand,
bodies, on this lot,

in that temporary corral
of trailers (for us,
and other night visitors,
short-term residents
of this burger-wafted
camp of strangers),

all at the mercy
of radioed instruction,
by mere children
on walkie-talkies,
also squawked at,
by a body-count director.