Month: June 2017

#PoeticAnswers 4: What Is The Pointy End of a Strawberry Called?

My knowledge of the strawberry
Can only be described as limited.

I know the strawberry is a liar.
That’s not to say the strawberry
Has manipulated or deceived me
On an emotional level,
Because that would be
Fucking mental,
But the strawberry is not a berry.

I know the strawberry is a fruit.
This is not a statement or an assumption
on the sexuality of the deceitful strawberry,
If I wish to get technical,
This fruit is asexual,
Self-reproducing, Self-generating,
Much like… this poet.

I know the strawberry is a female,
Before you start, I am not assuming it’s gender
It’s just empirical, scientific fact.
Before I incite outrage,
Strawberries aren’t human,
They don’t feel,
We do not need “Justice For Strawberries”.

I know the strawberry has a hull,
Unlike a boat and England,
The strawberry’s hull is at the top
Not the bottom or in the middle
Slightly to the right,
However, like England, the hull is
Green, boring and tasteless

Strawberries are the first fruit to ripen in the spring,
Strawberries on average have 200 seeds,
Strawberries are considered to be roses by scientists,
Scientists don’t often make sense but we trust their judgement anyway
Strawberries have a dedicated museum in Belgium
I had to go to Belgium to find out these facts about strawberries
Strawberries are actively driving me insane
The word strawberry and it’s variants are featured in this poem 19 times
I used to love strawberries until I wrote this poem

I know you asked me
What the pointy end of a strawberry is called
But the truth of the matter is
No one knows
And I don’t want to know either.

Question from Laura W. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 3: Why Don’t I Want To Live?

Why Don’t I Want To Live?

I have spent too long awake
And my thoughts are travelling
At a million miles an hour
As I try to find an explanation
To justify the non-extinction
Of myself.

Please forgive the 1am ramblings
of this shell before you
But I feel a need for an
Inevitable confrontation
And elaborate invocation
Of my feelings

Dear myself,
Why don’t I want to live?
Seriously, please tell me
Because I’ve got enough going on
And I was going so strong so
Why here and Why now?

I have more than I
Feel and deserve
And life lately has been
As easy as soft-serve
Ice-cream because I’ve been
Pretty smooth and chill

I’ve got a job and an income
Friends I can rely on
So why is my mind
Greyer than the
Aberdeen skyline
In September?

There’s a roof over my head
And pillows and a bed
Yet a lead-lined shadow of doubt
Has cut its claws into my shoulders
And I adorn it and crumble
Under the weight of this dark cape.

Why don’t I want to live?
When my mood started cycling,
I started using training wheels
To keep balanced
But there is still a white light
At the end of this track that I’m riding

I have tried to hop, skip and jump
From pity, misery and responsibility
But my physicality and mentality
Are in a separation battle
And the judge said
They can have me on alternate days.

I have syringed the serotonin
From my brain and painted it on my door
And immersed myself in the real world,
And attended firework displays of
Fluoxetine, clozapine and amphetamine
But dark smoke has choked the chemical light.

Why don’t I want to live?
Am I averse to positivity
Or have light-headed thoughts
Been pit against a heavy heart
In a rigged boxing match
In my skull?

Are my thoughts made of
Shadow puppets
Which can only be cast
With the setting sun?
Even though a shadow of a shadow
Creeps in with the dawn through my curtain.

Or is it more likely
That a material life
Is unfulfilling
And the things that I want
Are not what I need
And depression is more than a metaphor?

Why don’t I want to live?
Why don’t things work
the way that they should
And why do I feel that
I should feel better
Because I have it better than others?

Why are questions easier than answers,
Why is sobriety so hard and
Why won’t this negativity shut up?
Why am I writing a letter to the
Voices in my head asking them to explain
Why we want me to die?

Because I don’t think you understand the
Gravity of the situation,
We live in this same body so
I feel that’s a cause for consternation
For you right now because
I don’t see a reason why I shouldn’t.

What is wrong with me
What is the reason
What is the point
What is the answer
Why don’t I want to live

I don’t know.

#PoeticAnswers 2: Why Does Every Song Remind Me of Someone I’d Like to Let Fade Away?

I wanted to stop listening to love songs
Because every chorus reminded me of you.
Every word was an agonizing, antagonizing
Heartfelt reminder of everything I ever felt.

I wanted to stop listening to metal
Because the bitterness and screams kept me in
A constant state of hate that I didn’t want to feel
Because I could never hate you.

I wanted to stop listening to hip-hop
Because the beat and the bass
Was like our two rhythms coming together
Reminding me of the times we became one.

I wanted to stop listening to classical music
Because the beauty of it all
Haunted me, burning ethereal love notes
Off the paper and onto my skin.

I wanted to stop listening to music
Because every song reminded me of you.
Because every lyric was part of our story
And every melody was a memory.

I wanted to stop listening to music
Because everything was on repeat.
Our soundtrack looped and cross-faded in and around itself,
When I should have let it slow-fade to nothing.

I want to stop listening to myself,
Because I’m playing the same records over and over,
Now they begin to warp and break
And leave grooves and scratches on my skin.

Question from Felicia W. from Facebook. 

#PoeticAnswers 1: Will You Buy Me A Fidget Spinner?

Father,
I’ve been so good
I deserve a reward
Father
I beg you
Don’t be untoward
To the request that
I must now make.
Father,
Please will you buy me a fidget spinner?
I promise to eat all my carrots at dinner
I promise to do this that and the other
I promise to stop beating up my wee brother
“I don’t know Timmy,
Go ask your mother”
Mother,
I’ve been so good
I deserve a reward
Mother
I beg you
Don’t be untoward
To the request that
I must now make.
Mother,
Please will you buy me a fidget spinner?
“Ugh, Timmy, fuck off”

And we’re live!

Who am I?  I don’t know, I’m still trying to figure that out, but my About page seems to have a pretty good idea.

But this will be where I’ll be posting my poety/musical/comedy goodness.  So keep your eyes and ears posted for new material and upcoming gigs, as well as updates on my first full-length solo show We All Have Fears… coming to you this Hallowe’en!

However, my first regular poetry series will be starting soon (hopefully later today if I do this right!) with #100PoeticAnswers, using questions from all over the world, from drunk people, philosophers, parents and disgruntled partners.  But if you have any suggestions, please send me a message through the Contact page!

Here’s to a promising future, much love!

Cb.