Tag: friends

‘We All Have Fears’ – Done!

So, this past year I feel I’ve managed to go from strength to strength. This is due to the following things:

  1. I’ve managed to get out and make new friends and rebuild some old friendships.
  2. I’ve started to build momentum on the Scottish spoken word scene. People recognise or have heard of me now, and that’s weird.
  3. I’ve got a small, fantastic fan base that just keeps to be building.
  4. I’ve had my first paid poetry gigs. Hot damn, people actually want to book me and pay me for this stuff.

And finally, on top of this, I mnaged to write, direct and perform my first, full length solo poetry show. And it was received well. I’ve had constructive feedback and know how to work on it. I reckon it may end up hitting up the Edinburgh Fringe next year.

I’d like to thank everyone who had helped, my friends Ross, Isla, Heli and Oliver, Theresa, Dave, David, Gemma, Ricky and everyone else who came to the show or helped or listened to me rant or kept me sane with cups of tea, my sound guy, Graham, and my graphic designer, Ash.

A huge thanks goes to Edinburgh Horror Festival for opportunity to debut this show.

A hundred thank yous go out to the Amanda F*cking Palmer Official Page group for helping with the research for the show.

Further thanks go out to Stage Time Productions for their review of the show (that you can read here!)

And finally, thank you to all of you. You who have been reading and commenting away. Thank you for your support and dedication.

#PoeticAnswers 2017 – Done!

100 days, 100 questions, 100 answers as poems.

102 days ago, I would’ve said “that’s impossible!” But here we are.  And I’m a mix of emotions about it. Pride, accomplished, relieved, astonished (I honestly thought I’d give up after day ten) but also… I’m not completely satisfied.

I’m proud of dedicating myself and finishing the challenge, and there is a lot of work that I’m proud of. But there’s definitely some poems in there that didn’t turn out how I wanted them to or I was just generally not happy with.

I think there’s a lot of material that has potential and there’s some I may rewrite entirely, but right now, I’m all poemed out and could use a wee break.

So, if you’re interested, all of this year’s poems can be found here, please feel free to peruse. The future is on it’s way and it involves videos and more new writing. If you have any questions or want a chat, hit me up.

Huge, special thank yous belong to my friend Dave, who has been a very dedicated and supportive friend (he wrote these out in a book! It was the best birthday present ever!) and finally to Michael Clark who has contributed around 12-15 percent of these questions! Thank you both so, so much.

And finally, I’d like to say a huge thank you to all of you. The readers, the questioners, without you, I wouldn’t have gotten to this. Thank you for your love and support.

I’ll be back soon with more poems, posts and gig updates!

 

#PoeticAnswers 60 – Why Do People Give Up On You When You Move Away?

I can’t believe,
I won’t believe,
That it was actually intentional.
They’re my best friend so
It cant be malice but
With each passing day, I feel more like
Alice in the rabbit hole.
Falling further away,
The distance stretching like
Shadows in the setting sun.
Even though I’m reaching out,
My calls and messages disappear
Like carrier pigeons shot out of the air
But I don’t know if I’d rather it was
Enemy or friendly fire.

This friendship now feels like
It’s paved with good intentions
And sudden turns for the worst,
And roundabout excuses.
And even though I know the way,
The signposts are vandalised with
New tags with your initials and
A name that I don’t know.
I didn’t realise that, apparently,
You were waiting for the right time to quit.
I hope someday you realise that
Your new nicotine patch or meat substitute
Won’t feel the same.
And eventually,
You’ll come to miss me as much as I miss you.

Because I didn’t mean to hurt you.
And although you feel that
I stabbed you in the back,
Please know that the blade was too long
And I stabbed myself in the heart.
And now there’s an aching in my chest,
Now there’s a hole in my heart,
But you don’t care.

Because I moved away .
Then you put the distance between us.

Question from Lexi H. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 48 – Why Don’t You Have Any Pictures On Your Phone?

If memories were as easy to
Delete as the photographs on my phone,
I probably wouldn’t be happy.
Losing the past becomes as
Horrifically easy as
Just an uncoordinated finger.

New Age amnesia
Has become my downfall
Dyspraxia and tremors
Leave me shaking with anger
As precious memories
Of concerts, friends and my dog
Disappear into the digital aether.

Technology is supposed to make things easier,
An extension of ourselves
Keeping the memories that overflow
In a safe space.
But time and time again, my phone has
Proved it is just as fucked up and broken as me.

Or on the rare occasion that
An android update has not annihilated my fragile memory,
I have only myself and Google to blame.
The delete icon next to the upload icon
Without an option to cancel
Feels like a challenge for my broken hands.

I can feel your criticism already,
Why didn’t you back them up,
Why didn’t you set it up automatically?
It was, but because my phone is me,
It was too much and caused frequent crashes.
Now, my phone has as much memories as I do.
And the moral of the story is
Fuck Android.

This question and poem come are based on an early draft of a poem called “Digital Amnesia”

#PoeticAnswers 43 – How Did You Discover Amanda Palmer?

This romance happened by chance,
A brief introduction in a theatre class,

We were working on a production of
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream”,
Which was slowly turning into a nightmare
Due to the director’s tendency to be laissez-faire
And the actors didn’t seem to care
As actors tend to do.

My friend and ally,
Let’s call her Lucy because,
Well, that was her name.
She played Puck and Lysander
Spoke with virtue and candour
And she was not down with this chaos-

But that’s another story,
I might tell that one later-

But we clicked and connected,
Our personalities blended,
I was Oberon to her Puck,
Although I wish I had the luck
To be Hermia to her Lysander,
I really should have asked her-

Sorry I got distracted,
But you see, this girl impacted
My life in such a way during this
Awful, awful play,
And she introduced me to the sound
Of the Queen of the Boston underground.

(You’re welcome to complain,
But I just needed a rhyme).

My eyes were opened to beauty and truth
After awkwardly being sent “Delilah” by Bluetooth,
Then ‘A is for Accident’ and then ‘Yes Virginia’
Starting with the songs that were nearly vanilla,
Before ascending to madness with ‘Missed Me’ and ‘Backstabber’
All thanks this bodacious, genderfluid Lysander.

And though we’ve drifted apart, I still have Amanda.
She’s a constant, vibrant, talented reminder
Of the past and a force saying things will be better
Forming groups on Facebook, providing a shelter
For the outcasts and artists, the mad and fantastic
From across the Pacific, South Seas and Atlantic.

If these rhymes have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended:

I’ve got this girl, Shakespeare and you to blame,
For all this support and love and I have no shame
When I commit these awful crimes of rhyme.
So darling, if you have the time,
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Amanda shall restore amends.

Question from Delaney A.

#PoeticAnswers 39 – What Would Someone Who Loves Themself Do?

They would know that it’s okay
To love themself.
Because the lines of
Self-care and narcissism
Do not intersect.

They would give themself
What they need.
Be mindful of their own survival,
Eat, sleep, breathe and repeat,
Remember how to live their own life
And be care full.

They would give themself
Protection.
Not in the sense of fighting,
But knowing and preserving friendships
And cutting out those who seek to
Wipe the warmth and smile from your soul.

They would give themself
Forgiveness.
We don’t need to be hard on ourselves,
Between the hurt of hailstorms and gravity dragging us down,
We don’t need do any worse to ourselves.
The world is hard enough on us already.

Invest time and money in themself
And appreciate in value..
Plant seeds of positive thoughts
And let them grow.
And know that it’s all perfectly okay.

Question from Victoria T. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 24 – What Can I Do To Make The Situation Better?

Text, call,
Pick up the phone,
Be there however you can.

Make sure they’re safe
Ask a question,
Take a breath.

Move the pills,
Move the drink,
Move the knives.

Keep 999 on speed dial
Distract,
React,

Be appropriate,
Cool them down,
Keep them warm.

Let them be human,
Let them breathe,
Let them cry,

Remember this isn’t about you.
Hold them close, give them space,
Give them what they need that makes them feel safe.

Remind them someone is always there.
If you can’t be present, be a presence.
Let them know they’re never alone.

Question from Megan C.

#PoeticAnswers 17 – If Someone Talked About You The Way You Talked About Yourself, Would You Be Their Friend?

I would be their friend.
I’m drawn to toxicity like
A heroin addicted moth to the flame under the spoon.
There’s so much that I shouldn’t want
But do out of a warped sense of necessity.

If they would be my friend
I wouldn’t need to be harsh on myself.
I could finally cut myself out of my life.
Cast off the shadows of self-doubt
Be the light of my own life.

But I wouldn’t.
Because happiness has never felt real to me.
I would always need someone to drag me down to reality,
Keep me rooted and unsupported,
Leaving me a weeping willow,
Wilted and hanging.

I’ve never spoken highly of myself,
I have no reason to because
I know myself like the back of my hand,
I know the story behind each and every
Unsightly scar, broken knuckle and ugly bruise.

I am the caesarean scar on my stomach,
Cutting away at myself,
Hoping for a new life
But nothing comes.

I am the bruise on the world,
Ugly and unwanted,
Trying to conceal but
Becoming more obvious.

Clumsy, broken, autistic,
Mediocre, lazy, alcoholic,
The monster in the basement,
The monster in the closet,
Could never own up to herself
Could never own up to his mistakes,
The teenage junkie who never grew up.

 

Question from Georgia B. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 13: What’s Wrong?

Nothing.
Nothing really.
It’s just this tiny,
It’s just,
It’s nothing.

I promise,
It’s nothing.
You don’t need to worry,
Don’t look at me like that,
It’s nothing.

Something?
Maybe something.
It’s stupid really.
You can put your eyebrow down.
It’s nothing.

Have you ever
Felt like less than nothing?
Like your funeral’s being held early,
Like the weight of the earth is coming down on you and,
You’re dying?

Crushing,
Crushing in my head,
Crushing in my lungs and chest,
I’ve stopped gasping for air because nothing is there,
I’m choking.

Choking like
A candle in a glass cage,
It can’t shine or fight anymore,
It sputters and withers, turning to darkness and smoke
And nothing.

Nothing,
I wish I could be nothing,
Because nothing is worse that these feelings of nothingness,
Nothing comsumes, nothing excites, nothing is the only thing that is there,
I’m nothing.

It’s nothing,
Like I told you, it’s nothing,
And I wish there was something I could do,
But I’ve been drowning and sinking into this dark ocean, and, like its waves,
I’m breaking.

Nothing,
Nothing more, nothing less,
There’s a hole like a cavern carved in my chest,
That I’ve dug myself so I can find my heart and make it
Stop beating.

Talking,
I hate talking,
I don’t want to talk about what’s wrong because
It’s not your problem and I won’t be a burden so believe me when I say,
It’s nothing.

#PoeticAnswers 9 – How Many Sides Are There to a Friendship?

For a friendship to stay afloat,
It must have a strong base.
Let this be side one.
From this, the fundamentals are established,
We build and we bond together,
Floating as a brand new raft on a sea of no cares.

Growing taller and stronger,
Your raft becomes a boat.
Boxed in and built up.
Port and starboard
Stern and bow.
Ready to sail into the future.

Port, left side,
From here, you can look out and see
All that you have left behind.
Out in the distance, a setting sun,
Typhoons of emotion.
Beneath the waves,
Buried treasures and wreckages,
Lost forever, eroded by salt-water tears.

Starboard, right side.
Because someone was always
Right by your side.
Your first-mate and anchor,
Your navigator and helmsman,
They have never steered you wrong.
And although the waves have been rough,
They have never left you mutinied or marooned.

Stern to the rear,
The wind at your back,
And your home and stateroom.
And it’s appropriate that the bedroom
Is called a stateroom.
Because the two of you have left it in a state
From drinking too much rum with no coke
And sharing the best and worst moments of your lives.

The final side, bow.
Always looking forward.
Looking forward to the future
Because this is the best journey of your life.
There’s never been a second wind,
But it’s never been a breeze.
But sometimes, you need to go ashore,
The rum makes you say some pretty dumb things.

But your five-side friendship
Will still be in harbour,
Waiting for you to return,
Waiting for the next journey.
The seas may be rough,
But much like the barnacles on the base,
You’re sticking together forever.

Question from Peter G. from Facebook