C o n v e r s a t i o n
sticks in my throat
the words are plastered
to the roof of my mouth
like communion wafers
so I take a shot of red wine
then another
and another
and another
and oops,
here we go, making confessions
all over the place.
I’m not even Catholic.

 

red wine

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Cuckoo Spit

Posted: August 30, 2017 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

cuckoo-spit

Is cuckoo spit still
a thing? I used to live
much closer to the ground,
used to belly-grub
in the mud, eyes on grass stalks;
flutter-follow bugs;
air-lift to safety
ants on a mission; notice
rain spotting the leaves.
And now, I haven’t
reached society’s great heights,
but it’s harder to
see eye-to-eye with
nature when you’re taller, locked
in place like the trees.
Is cuckoo spit still
a thing? If not, somebody
has gobbed in that hedge.

rollercoaster

If “life is a roller-coaster”,
Your thirties are the steep incline before the drop:
Everything takes that little more effort,
Brace yourself, white-knuckle strain;
The goal is in view,
But you won’t spend long at the top.
And you’re thinking ahead, to when it all stops.

Lousy

Posted: June 25, 2017 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , ,
the way the woodlouse
in my bathroom moves
reminds me of video game characters,
when it’s my turn to grip the controller.
 
he keeps trying to climb up walls
that are unclimbable,
keeps struggling his way up dead-ends
and having to reverse,
is trying to move as fast
as his many little legs will go,
before being visible gets him killed.
 
in the eye of the beholder,
all our endeavours are pointless.

 

Some excellent advice on submitting poetry to journals and contests (plus sympathy for us lit zine editors) from Jo Bell…

The Bell Jar: Jo Bell's blog

Capture

[This article is now taught as part of the Open University’s Creative Writing MA, and I’ve had many many messages to tell me that people have increased their publication record, sometimes by 200% in a year.]

I’ve spent some time lately with poetry journal editors – and also with the poor beggars who, like me, send off work to them. It’s struck me anew that many people, especially those at the beginning of their writing career, don’t have much idea of how submission works and what time span is realistic for an editor to consider a poem. Also, they’re wondering how to keep tabs on the seventeen different pieces that they’ve sent out, in order to avoid the no-no of simultaneous submission.

What follows is the Jo Bell Method; the method of an immensely, award-winningly disorganised poet who nonetheless has managed to win awards. My vast and lofty experience teaches me that the…

View original post 1,593 more words

New Year, Old Reflections

Posted: January 2, 2017 in Articles
I just found something I wrote in January 2007. Ten years on, and it still seems relevant; especially with the term ‘Oppression Olympics’ making the rounds.
Let’s not get in to a misery contest about who got a worse deal than whom. I’m tired of that crap. Pain and misery are subjective, as is time.
If the worst pain a person has ever experienced is giving birth, or all the bones in their legs shattering from a fall, then that will be their measuring stick for all future pain. Just like, if the worst pain a person has ever experienced is stubbing their toe, then that will be their measuring stick. They’ll be able to empathise with other people’s pains – like how we wince when TV characters take a bullet, whether or not we’ve experienced that ourselves –  but it will all fall into one of three categories: ‘as bad as stubbing my toe’, ‘worse than stubbing my toe’ or ‘not as bad as stubbing my toe’. It doesn’t mean that Man A who smashed his leg in a fall, can tell Man B who has stubbed his toe You don’t know what pain is. Man B has encountered the worst pain in his life (so far); it just happens to be a different brand of pain to that which Man A has been through.
Take time. We all race against the same 24-hour clock, right? However, some people may have a lot more to show for it at the end of the day than others do…and yet those others may feel they‘ve been equally as busy. Sometimes people ask me What are you doing tonight? and I reply Having a shower. If I’m tired because I’ve been at work all day or didn’t get much sleep, having a shower can seem like a time-consuming chore. But on that same day, a friend who also worked a full-time shift could get home, shower, type up a load of notes, go to football practise, get home  and make dinner for themselves  and four housemates, eat dinner, help out at a homeless shelter, go home and take another shower then head off clubbing. And not even consider it their busiest day! See what I mean about time being subjective?
Being human is predominantly a miserable experience. Let’s say we all agree on that, okay? It doesn’t matter whether you have to work twelve hours a day to keep the roof over your head, or you get a decent salary for ten minutes of smiling at cameras. Either way, there are aspects of life that still suck. One of them will get depressed about not having time to ponder the meaning of existence, while the other is going to be depressed due to having so much time on their hands, and end up paying huge therapy bills to be reassured that there is meaning to existence.
The same goes for misery and trauma. Whatever your worst experience, that’s your worst experience. Nobody can refute that.
It feels like the whole of western society is engaged in a constant misery contest, and I’d like it to stop. We won’t achieve anything as a species if we spend every interaction seeking out pity points. I pity us all: we’re human, therefore we are fellow sufferers of the Human Condition, and it’s a terrible thing.  There is something compelling about these contests, but I don’t want to get sucked into any of them. Yet by refusing to participate, by not playing any trump cards of my own, I’m left with no choice but to walk away and live with whatever assumptions the ‘winner’ wants to make about me. Sometimes I’ll write about my life, sometimes I won’t. Maybe I’ve skirted around the bad shit; maybe I’ve exaggerated it. You don’t know. You won’t know.
Accept that everyone around you – everyone you pass in the street, everyone you meet at a party, every person on every social media site – is suffering in some way, and maybe we can reduce all of this my-rape-was-worse-than-your-rape bollocks. Often when an online story deals with a shitty aspect of the writer’s life, or their character’s fictional life, it generates semi-autobiographical reviews. The contest starts; subtle, but it’s there. People are trying to top the fact that this person was beaten by his dad with a crowbar (or whatever) – come on, is that really what the writer needs to be hearing? Empathise, sure, but please don’t try to belittle their experience.
We’ve got to stop acting like having been abused is an exclusive condition to being able to relate to suffering. Just being here is suffering. We know this. Although creativity has been linked to things like neurosis and harsh childhoods, it doesn’t mean you’re required to have the definitive trauma scars in order to be a good writer…or a good person.

A Modern Parable

Posted: October 12, 2016 in Articles

Never take your eye off your beer. Especially not to Tweet about how much you like your beer (because irony tastes bitter)…

 
parable