David O’Kelly

Height:  5’10”  Hair:  Silver/Grey  Eyes:  Blue/Green                  Build: Medium

Training New York – Greg Zittel: 

2 years Sanford Meisner technique.

Middlesex University:  BA Hons Drama/Literature.

City Lit – Movement: Mime and Voice-training

Languages:      Dutch (fluent), German and French (basic).

Accents:           RP, Cockney, Southern Irish, Standard American.

Other Skills:     Physical Theatre, Stand-Up,  Story-teller. Swimming, Football, Rugby, Athletics, Yoga, Running, Tennis, Badminton, Squash, Cricket, Cycling and Motorcycling.   Full Driving Licence.

Writing,Producing,Directing:  THE STEAM BASIN (multimedia show);  THE NOISE AND THE SILENCE (one man show);  Beat Poet Experience (performance, poetry and music – CD: Sonny Sunshine).

Don’t Sing That Song for Me

 Don’t sing that song for me. I feel too bad, l can not see. 

Living inside a tear drop. I fell , I stood, I fell again.

Something is living inside of me, feels wrong but l can’t tell anyone.

Each one, everyone is playing a part in a cycle of circles.

Gets tighter, tighter, as we breath in out, more subtle pollution.

Taste good, smells bad, we wake by mistake in sweet sweat.

Don’t sing that song for me. Don’t sing that song for me again.

Living inside a glass tear drop. I stumble, I stand, I fall again.

I didn’t know who the hell was talking to me. Was it you, was it me.

Living inside this drop. Living inside a tear drop drip.

I caught a glimpse of a rainbow with streaks of blood.

Red yellow blue did they belong to me or you, us or them.

 Don’t sing that song for me. Don’t sing that song for me again.

Something is dieing inside of me, feels wrong, can’t touch anyone.

Seems to be living everywhere just there. Can’t see it, can you.

Can’t touch it, can’t be bothered to care, but it’s in the air.

A down vibe, vibrating vibrations, slipping around all under the face, every place.

Gee whiz what a super human race. Must be in the right place! Feel the taste.

Feel the haste; l am beginning to like the taste.                                    

We did so well, even made up a story about heaven and hell.

Please don’t sing that song for me. War never stops. Give the chance a chance.

World war happens somewhere, someplace, every day. Everyday story.

We created false heavens, shinning behind tall walls. Loss true romance.

It’s the real thing, living breathing hell for so many faces all over the earth,.

Better than you, less than me. Now l must be free. That cannot be.

Living inside a tear drop. Dripping from my eye. I couldn’t burst the bubble.

My head spinning like it ejaculated away. May never come back again.

Pretending things are ok. We say happy days escape to the sports page.

Or fantasy sex may do the tricks, even if we pay like an away day.

Don’t sing that song for me. Other people are not like us we cuss.

The mind is taking on more flash trash, holding tight like it right.

Like it’s my word like it’s true. Film history, a fact, fixed for ever. Safe as houses, until the crash..

We are give ourselves a good mental bashing. After taking our own loving thrashing.

When all about the wandering, wondering mystery of delicate touch.

Human notes, animal quotes. Beauty whispers as we stampede.

The gold rush that way. But heh that is just another day right.

Don’t sing that song for me. I feel too bad l can not see.

Don’t sing that song for me. I feel too bad, l can not see. 

Living inside a tear drop. I fell , I stood, I fell again.

Something is living inside of me, feels wrong but l can’t tell anyone.

Don’t sing that song for me. I feel too bad l can not see.

 A STORY   

Once upon a time. Before memory records.

Along, long time ago, the raining wind whispered words of wilderness  ….. We heard them.

Forests full with sight, sound, seduction. Spreading sparkling existence in colour.

Animal relationships survived so love, tender care, respect, laughter, loving it, just do it, lived there.

Then the future took hold, we organized ourselves so well, we built a never ending war on love.

Determined at every angle, at every crossroads to settle old scores. Revenge became the word. ( We want revenge, we will get revenge.)

Telling the children we deserve to be on top. We are the best. Fight for life. You win or lose, then die. (We want revenge, we will get revenge)

Now we are here. Sometimes we disappear, loss it with fear, then we are lost. Then we return, turning, spinning forever, then never.

Jingle , jangle we live in a tangle.          Jingle, jangle we live in a tangle.            Jingle, jangle we live in a tangle.

Twice upon a time. This is the story. By the fireside with a storm inside.

Looking to conquer all the forest minerals, never mind those others. Take for your family take that for you. Hide attack. Search destroy.

We told the children, we didn’t want to hide our love, make hate. We had no choice, heavens above, hell below.

They believed us. Just like we believed the grown up, big people. There was nothing left to do. But pass on the revenge.

We brought home wealth, warriors in chains, worry then hurry. With murder on our mind we could not be kind.

Jingle, jangle we live in a tangle.            Jingle, jangle we live in a tangle.              Jingle, jangle we live in a tangle. 

Once upon a time words never had to be, we spoke in sounds, like wild moving animals.

Let me tell you the story. About loving, hoping, longing lost glories.

Showing you many broken faces from tender lost schizophrenic places.

Human choice inside is everyone. Like it or not. Elusive sanity. That hit the spot.

The sum total is falling apart, humankind hasn’t even made a living giving start. The moment passed by.

Jingle, jangle we live in a tangle.            Jingle, jangle we live in a tangle.          Jingle, jangle we live in a tangle.

Have you heard this story, filling up with confusion, doubting pain, taking blame. We gain. (We want revenge, we will get revenge)

Making up then playing fake to hide our hate. Come again just before it is too late. Is this fate?

Slipping into our parts of insanity, making the looks more really normal than before.

In every city is the statue of the soldier, big, bold, story told children.

On every side of the dice we roll, we carry on like nothing wrong. Just sing that song again Jane. x 2

In strawberry feel afternoons, lemon pies arise towards the skies, Tell no more lies, we cry.

My thoughts thinking what the hell reason is l thinking now, purple, pink, brown cow.

On silvery shifting earth moons, before the sunrise I’ll eat my cake and eat some more.