Melissa's Garden

MELISSA'S GARDEN
©Trev Teasdel Aug 1998, Great Ayton

Tiger eyes that mesmerise

The Fireflies of her thighs.

Misty sighs - sensitise

Alcamize love's butterflies.

(Chorus I)

Come on down to Melissa's Garden

Love and light down in the garden.

In the garden, love is growing,

She leads the way by the seeds she's sowing.

She's an archimage from another age

Runic spells fly off her page

Come to free us from our maze,

And open up the celestial age.

Bridge..

You won't believe what you see

When you see the way Melissa sees.

The world you see is on an odyssey

Through policy and prophecy

In the embassy of fantasy

You can peek her pantisocracy.

Chorus 2

Come on down to Melissa's Garden

Love is flowing in the garden

In the garden lights are glowing

She shows the way with her deeper knowing.

So leap-frog with the underdog

And liven up those sand-hogs

In a deep clog there's a hang-dog

In dialogue with a pedagogue.

Moonbeams on the millstream

Reflect upon the big screen.

There's a sunbeam in the airstream

Shining on our new dreams.

...........
Wrote this new age song for a Song writing class I was taking for the WEA (Workers' Educational Association) in Middlesbrough. Wrote the music but never got a finished recording of it as was busy with work. The lyrics appeared in my 2007 poetry chap book Nightfall in Sorrento. Two versions here, one with my guitar but no vocals

First - a new version by Mira and the Magnetic Ghosts

The same track on Reverbnation 

Melissa's Garden - Guitar instrumental track no vocals.

Also on Soundclick here - https://soundclick.com/share.cfm?id=14669011

A second version of Melissa's Garden - by Culture Fuzion - a 2007 collaboration with Coventry drummer and Music producer Jim Pryal. Jim Pryal composed the trance track and Trev Teasdel wrote the poem / lyrics and provided the voice.

Melissa's garden by Culture Fuzion on Soundclick

https://soundclick.com/share.cfm?id=14669434

Streetbattle

STREETBATTLE
©Trev Teasdel Coventry January 1980

Divert the traffic, clear the streets.

The slogan’s written, the plan’s complete.

Placards painted, the people out,

With raging passions to chant and shout.

Clear the streets, move that car.

Board the windows of shop and bar.

Heed the word, heed the call

No one’s safe around here at all.

Police on horseback, truncheon toting

Streets are hunched in mute foreboding.

Helicopters circle low, co-ordinate via radio.

Escorts ready, formations planned,

Handcuffs and batons close to hand.

Heed the word, heed the call

No one’s safe around here at all.

A route-march chosen, a street plan open

Spearhead banners, poison poking.

An immigrant area - it goes unspoken.

Corner shop window will soon be broken.

Hymns to Hitler, dreams of greatness

A ghost of the past that will not rest.

Heed the word, heed the call

No one’s safe around here at all.

A shield of police encircle marchers,
A sudden left turn at the railway arches.
Counter demo led long another route
but soon get wise then off they shoot.
A sudden shower, sticks and stones hurled

Cops ‘neath viziers quickly curled.

Burning issues of the age

Nominate the street their stage.

A confrontation, quick the cameras,

Inform headquarters, fetch the ambulance

Effect plan B, put in operation

‘If this thing spreads, god help the nation’

Release the gas, fire the blanks

‘Action, action, disperse their ranks’

Heed the word, heed the call,

No one’s safe around here at all.

Now the cameras pan, the chanters all join hands.

The battle in the streets obeyed no one’s plans.

An ambulance left, a police car burned

All agreed there were lessons to be learnt

Blood in puddles, mud in wounds,

A peak-capped man cried, ‘Damn them goons’

Burning issues of the age

Nominate the street their stage.

Clear the debris in the streets

Assess the damage done to property

Compile statistics on loss of trade

‘Stop press, fresh outbreak, city arcade’

Camera crews, trigger happy

Edit that newsreel, make it snappy.

Divert attention from real issues

Package ‘specially for the news.

Heed the word, heed the call

Jackboot’s marching on us all.

...............
Written in Coventry 1980 after witnessing an anti National Front rally and watching a documentary on it. I was writing it while watching the documentary playing a run down of minor chords. I've used this as a performance poem over the years and it appeared in my first poetry chapbook The Escaped Poet in 1984.

Streetbattle by Trev Teasdel - cassette demo 1980.

And on Soundclick https://soundclick.com/share.cfm?id=14669453

Black Lizard Stream

BLACK LIZARD STREAM
©Trev Teasdel  Coventry July 1970

Black cats creep out of the shadows

Liquid black and evil faced.

Black clouds crawl over the sky

Like Turtles over the sand.

Pinstripe pain within my frame,

I have lost my way.

We have lost our way.

Black lizard stream

Multicoloured claws and fangs.

I tried to turn the turnstile gate,

But the coin wouldn’t drop.

Now I find it’s much too late

Someone else has claimed the shop.

And I have lost my way

We have lost our way

Bridge

The mountain peaks, they touched the sun

But promptly burnt their hands.

A herd of hills leave their homes

Searching for a match to strike.

And I’m so low, I’m bound to go

Cos I have lost my way.

We have lost our way.

Black wizard dream

Burning cauldrons and magic potion.

I tried to wave his magic wand

But the spell backfired.

Now I find it’s much too late

The wand has been acquired.

And I have lost my way.

We have lost our way.

Bridge 2

A cloud in jest bathed its legs

In burning molten lava.

The cloud in pain, swore to rain

Forever, hereafter.

And I’m so low, I’m bound to go,

For I have lost my way.

We have lost our way..

..............

Black Lizard Stream Video - Version 1 Not the full lyric on this. 

Black Lizard Stream version One - as above but on Reverbnation

 

BLACK LIZARD STREAM VERSION 2 - Full Lyric Version. 

On Reverbnation

 

Song story: This lyrics was written walking 3 miles home along the London Road at 3am after organising the band night at the Coventry Arts Umbrella Club. Influence from bands of the time like BlackS abbath and Led Zepplin, Thus a heavy, power chord type of song.The music of local band Asgard,was an influence.A three piece band in the style of the Nice and Pink Floyd,who were being promoted at the time by John Peel and rehearsed at the Umbrella. The bridge certainly came from their witticism in between songs. Someone came and said "The sun's hot' and one of the band quipped "you shouldn't have touched it then!".That gave me the line 'The Mountain peaks they touch the sun but promptly burnt their hands." I employed a personal symbolism in the song influenced by read the Forgotten Language by Erich Fromm ( An Introduction to the Understanding of Dreams, Fairy Tales, and Myths).

It's a Long Hitch Hike Home

IT’S A LONG HITCH HIKE HOME

©Trev Teasdel Cleobury Mortimer1967  / Coventry May 1969

Well now, at last, the term has ended,

And we’re ready to return.

I say goodbye to all my friends

For I have many things to learn,

And ambitions to fulfil.

And I whisper to my friend

Whose mind is still, on the windowsill.

Chorus -

It’s a long hitchhike home

So I give my hair a comb

Put my rucksack on my back

And proceed down the track.

I’m off to seek my fortune

But not in pence and pounds.

I’m off to seek my fortune

But not in jewels and crowns.

I’m off to seek the truth

I’ve been looking for, for years.

I’m off to seek a sun,

In a crowded mass of tears.

Chorus

I’ve travelled through the glens

And made many friends

But as I try to wend my way

Up the embankment’s slimy clay,

I sometimes slip and fall,

Like a silver waterfall

But eventually I’ll climb

And overcome the slime.

Chorus

I’ve travelled many miles,

Through many empty valleys.

And I’ve had my fair share

Of the darkness of the alleys.

I’ve come across folk,

Searching for their yoke.

They sound their motto wide

“Seek and thou shalt find”

Chorus

Everybody’s searching -

For what? – They do not know.

Gazing from their windows,

They bow their heads low.

People trying to reach

With hands that can not feel.

People trying to speak

To images unreal….

Video of It's a Long Hitch Hike Home

.........
Began this lyric June 196, on the coach, waiting to leave the City of Coventry Boarding School, at Cleobury Mortimer and finished in 1969. Probably influenced by Simon and Garfunkel at that stage.
The first reflects leaving school, and the imagery, with Glens and embankments, was influenced by the school's Cross-Country run. I was in the school team, so I did a lot of running.

Good Day to you Mrs Jones

GOOD DAY TO YOU MRS JONES

©Trev Teasdel  Coventry April 1970

Alarm clock rings and with it brings

A sleepy head that feels like lead on rising.

Throw back the sheets, draw back the curtains

Look at the frosty streets.

Put on your clothes, everyone loathes

To get up in the morning.

Your mind seems to settle as you put on the kettle

Although still sleepy.

Frying the bacon, fried bread and eggs,

It seems there's a mountain upon your legs.

Brush down your hair, taking great care,

Paint on the make up, still trying to wake up

but you know that you can't.

Slip on your coat, pick up your bag

and off to the daily drag.

Open the door and a cold wind bites,

Go back and put on your woollen tights.

Rush for the bus in the usual crush,

Collapsing on the seat.

Run to the gate, in case you're late,

You know you're not really worried.

Look at the clock, must have got stuck,

Doesn't the time drag by.

"Roll on today, Roll on tomorrow"

Wishing your life away.

Nothing gets done, you're not having fun,

You're needing a holiday.

Working for the rich man as hard as you can

And you don't get nothing for it.

He's getting rich while you're living in a ditch

But he don't do nothing for it.

Home-time comes, your head still drums,

At train beat tempo.

Lay on the sofa, thinking it over,

but you're much too weary to know.

Maybe there's an artist somewhere in you

With plenty of things to do

But he never gets a chance.

Good day to you Mrs Jones

Good day to you Mrs Jones.

......
Wrote this while working at the GEC in Coventry. I was feeling alienated and writing lyrics in the break time helped make the job more meaningful.

A new version by Mira and the Magnetic Ghosts 

Same track on Reverbnation

Version one cassette demo with Steve Gillgallon on lead.

A more traditional folkie version of Good Day To You Mrs Jones.

Man Supreme the Perfect Being

MAN SUPREME THE PERFECT BEING

©Trev Teasdel Coventry March 1969

Man supreme, the perfect being,

Through perfect eyes, the world he’s seeing.

He thrives on mockery, and lives in a human rockery

He’s the all-electric, egocentric, busy-bodied businessman.

Victim of anxiety, member of a stale society.

He’s the all-instinctive, aggressive beast.

Repressed by day, by night released.

He communicates with a silent tongue,

The perfect man can do no wrong.

Man supreme, the perfect being

Through perfect eyes the world he’s seeing

He preaches love but really hates.

He pulls the ground from below his mates.

He’s a playful thing with his tanks and guns.

Sometimes from his conscience runs.

Red disturbing jealousy, trembles throughout his tranquillity.

He’s the narrow-minded navigator,

The inadvertent instigator.

He sings a silent song,

The perfect man can do no wrong.

Man supreme the perfect being

Through perfect eyes the world he’s seeing

He’s toiling all the boiling day

Then plodding home for rest and play.

Making love and tenderness,

Sinking in a warm caress.

Mass producing countless kids,

Hope they’re thin like paint can lids

Ambition haunts his tiny mind,

If greed is free then greed you’ll find

Angry words that penetrate

Whilst you’re down he’ll dominate.

Why do they build their castles strong

If the perfect man can do no wrong?

.........

I wrote this lyric at 18 - 1969

3 versions using part of the lyric in a modern style

Lost in the City

LOST IN THE CITY

©Trev Teasdel Coventry 1970

Lost in the city,

Homeless, hungry and tired.

Nowhere to go,

Lonely, jobless and broke.

What can I do?

Where can I go?

Everywhere I turn, my hand melts the snow.

Lost in the city

No purpose that I can find.

Nowhere to go,

No goal I can battle towards.

What do I do?

Where do I go?

Every flower I water refuses to grow.

Every man needs a purpose for which he can live.

He needs a direction to which his all he can give.

Toss your heart to a distant plain

And battle all out towards it.

Start seeking the shoe which best fits your foot.

Don’t be lost in the city,

No purpose that you can find.

Nowhere to go,

No goal you can battle towards.

What can you do?

Where can you go?

When every flower you water refuses to grow.

Don’t envy another man’s position,

Start establishing yourself,

Cos how can you know what wealth you possess

When you’re defeated by another’s success.

....
Written after reading an article on homelessness in Reader's Digerst at my Gran's.

This full production version is by Mira and the Magnetic Ghosts 2025.

 

This is the full version but on Reverbnation

This is an early Cassette demo of Lost in the City recorded 1973 on an mono cassette.

Lost in the City version 2

This version of Lost in City on Soundclick

https://soundclick.com/share.cfm?id=14598492

Mr Stainless Steel

Mr STAINLESS STEEL 

©Trev Teasdel Coventry 1968 / Revised April 1974

(Chorus)

Mr Stainless Steel,

He can wheel and deal.

He’s as cold as a knife and fork,

And as tight as a Champagne cork - 

Mr Stainless Steel. Mr Stainless Steel.

He has no feelings as he goes about his dealings.

He hasn’t any soul and his wife brings in the coal.

Never seen him melancholy,

Always evergreen as holly.

Drop upon his toe a brick,

He won’t feel it cos his skin’s too thick.

(Chorus)

You can’t insult him

His feelings like gold vaulted.

Life can beat most people down

He always seems to stand his ground.

Always appears shiny and strong,

Always ready to bang his gong.

His nerves are made of finest steel,

His life would make lesser men congeal.

......................

Mr STAINLESS STEEL.
Originally written in 1968 by Trev Teasdel at age 17. The lyric began as a sketch of a certain kind of working man or maybe even the boss — emotionless, resilient, and shaped by the machinery around him. “Stainless Steel” came from a Russell Hobbs kettle label I was repairing at DF Gibbs next to the General Wolfe in Foleshill while an apprentice, but also echoed the stiff, stoic ideals of the time — men built to endure, never bend. It was partly inspired by case studies in The Psychologist magazine, which also inspired other character led lyrics like ‘Mr Toil and Strife’ and ‘Mrs Stress and Strain’ which began to emerge as composite figures of postwar working-class life.

Written as a potential pop song at the time but with no connection to that world, I set it music later with the guitar but the cassette recording has been lost so, Mr Stainless Steel has now been reimagined for Mira and the Magnetic Ghosts — a ghost in the machine of masculinity. Equal parts satire and sorrow, it's a portrait of a man made tough by a world that doesn't allow softness. Mr STAINLESS STEEL.

The original cassette version has been lost but this is a version by Mira and the Magnetic Ghosts 2025.

 

The Same Version on Reverbnation

 

The Elusive Metallic Idol

THE ELUSIVE METALLIC IDOL

 ©Trev Teasdel December 1968 Coventry

There’s a maze of minds

Designing all kinds of cars.

There’s a surfeit of time to kill,

So the people do what they will.

Living in flats, so very high.

Working so hard till they finally die.

Cogwheels are spinning

And people are sinning.

Papa’s won the pools,

Look at all the fools

Smoking and drinking,

No time for thinking.

(Bridge)

I don’t know what to do for the best

I’m counting the hairs on my hairless chest

Times are so hard,

Think I’ll send them a Christmas card.

Money becomes their life,

The object of their strife.

The elusive metallic idol

Can make you suicidal.

So get outta bed,

Screw on your head

It’s full speed ahead.

Grab what you can while you may.

Got no time for pleasure and play!

...........................

This version by Mira and the Magnetic Ghosts 2025

 

The same version but on Reverbnation 

The Elusive Metallic Idol” (Trev Teasdel, Dec 1968) was written in Coventry during its car manufacturing heyday, inspired by a BBC Horizon documentary—possibly Hidden World—aired in December 1968. The film may have explored themes of built-in obsolescence, materialism, and modern industrial stress. Set against Coventry’s own car-town reality, the lyric became a poetic response to the psychological and social impact of consumer society and mass production. In 1970 Tony Mojo Morgan of Coventry's Mick Green Blues Band - later with Coventry's ska band EMF, wrote some music to it on guitar for the band - the tape got lost. The song was also influenced by early Cat Stevens songs like Matthew and Son. At the time of writing it I didn't play an instrument so it got shelved - using AI recently, I created a modern version of it.

This is another song called Just before Dawn but in this extended version, I covered some of the lyrics to Elusive Metallic Idol in the latter finger-picked verses.

The City Fires

THE CITY FIRES

©Trev Teasdel Coventry July 1970

Amidst the conflagrations

Living substances survive.

Squandering their energies

In the furnaces they do thrive.

Making haste that’ll only guarantee

An early grave.

Chorus.

And the cities burn

And the cities burn

And the cities burn

You’re gonna die

You’re gonna slowly die

You’re gonna slowly die too young

In the city fires

In the city fires

In the city fires.

Preachers scream from the steeple

That we’re heading for hell

But tell me people if this place ain’t worse than hell.

Making waste; it’ll only guarantee an early grave.

Bridge..

The evil witch has cast her jinx

Beelzebub now rules.

Pandemonium’s the song he sings

As he swallows all you fools.

And he’s gonna drink your blood

As your bodies slowly burn.

Chorus 2

As your bodies burn

As your bodies burn

As your bodies burn

You’re gonna die

You’re gonna slowly die

You’re gonna slowly die too young

In the city fires

In the city fires

In the city fires.

..........



I was working at the GEC Telecommunications in Coventry and Pete Waterman, who was the shop steward and worked on the next section, put some music to a lyric I had written - A Lotta Rain is Fallin' and teamed me up with Billy Campbell, a bass player who also worked at the GEC and was in a band called Coconut Mat
 https://sites.google.com/site/bandsfromcoventry/coventry-bands-a-to-z/coventry-bands-c/coconut-mat

I went to see the band and they were a heavy rock outfit and Billy asked me to write a lyric for the band. at the time Black Sabbath were new on the scene with a top selling first album and Led Zepplin's Whole Lotta Love was playing everywhere. So I thought I would write something in that vain, hearing Led Zeppelin power chords behind the lyric. However Billy reject the lyric saying 'You can't have a pop single with the word 'Beelzebub' in it!'. Forever ever after he nicked name me Beez le bub-as he pronounced it!

I hadn't realised the band were thinking about a single, they never said and I didn't think they had those kind of connections at that stage. However, I learnt later that Billy was in an early Coventry band called the Eggy with Roger and Nigel Lomas who had played in the hit band The Sorrows, and the Eggy had made a single - here. It hadn't been a hit but they did have the connections. Nonetheless, I had to laugh 5 years later when Queen hit the No 1 spot with Bohemian Rhapsody - what word was in that song - yes 'Beelzebub'. I'd loved to have seen Billy face when that came out - but also I'd lost contact with him by then.

Flowers of the Wayside

FLOWERS OF THE WAYSIDE

©Trev Teasdel November 1970 Coventry.

As I pass the streets lined with tears of unexpressed souls,

Rows of tins of compressed talents chained in their folds

Lines of 'could’ve been if I tried, but didn’t pursue my goals’

Chains of the ‘same as the day before (and day before that)’ plastic moulds

Boxes of ‘shun the new, it’ll be our ruin, stick to the beaten path’ holes

Chorus

I just put my face to my hands

My fear for to hide

That I might yet become just another

Flower of the Wayside.

Their bins are full of screwed up dreams from the morning of their youth

And yes, they still have their dreams in the straitjacket of their lives.

They follow convention down the steps, in his drunken waltz

To fall into the waters deep, to find they cannot swim, to find they cannot think.

They’re too busy not being busy trying to be themselves,

They’ve been hung up upon society allocated shelves.

They pay homage to the idol with numerals on his face

And as his arms rotate, they start their diurnal chase

Machines, I once thought, were extensions of man’s arms

But men have just become extensions of machines,

Turmoiling in their cogwheel confusion

While I stage my independence – the Waterbearer’s revolution.
............

The song began downtown Coventry in 1970 outside the Dive Bar. A friend had just bought Full House by Fairport Convention and one of the tracks was called 'Flowers of the Forest' it sparked my quite different song about people growing old and deserting their dreams and following convention to the letter. I managed to avoid that! 

The lyric was published as a poem in my first chapbook, The Escaped Poet in 1984 and in various magazines. I recorded a musical version on a mono cassette to take to a publisher in 1973 but not a good recording. It's below, but I also recently employed AI to create a track around some of the lyric - below.

This version is by Mira and the Magnetic Ghosts 2025

 

This is the same version but on Reverbnation

 

Flowers of the Wayside by Trev Teasdel

Love Song

LOVE SONG

©Trev Teasdel Middlesbrough 1981

Close your eyes and let them rest now

Dark days they will go past

Close your eyes and let them rest now

Oh the shadows they won’t last.

When you feel the tears swelling

And they’re not the tears of pain

And your lips begin to quiver

And it’s not with fear or strain.

When it’s hearts that speak not tongues

In a language queer to pens

When it's souls that think not minds

With a logic that transcends

Optional bridge BRIDGE

It’s love yes its love

It’s love yes it’s love

It’s love and love has got to you..oo (Repeat)

Take my hand and let me hold you

Close as flesh can get

Take my soul and let me show you

That sacred place within

When flesh has done what flesh must do

And our hearts they are at peace

And we lay in sweet contentment

As if the troubled world had ceased.

To coda – as in bridge.

..........
This began as a blues riff but became something more melodic with guitarist Steve Gillgallon. An acoustic version here and an attempted synth version but without the vocals. Appeared as a poem in my 2nd poetry chapbook - Poet Reprobate 1985.

 

The same version but on Reverbnation

HR

Original Solo version by Trev