Poetry – Page 4 – Mxcellany – Poetry, Music, Art

Machine

(This is the first poem I ever wrote all the way back in August 2016, written in a combination of rage at the ever breaking printer in the office and depression. While it’s served me well, I’m deciding to retire it from slams and shows, but it’s nice to look back and see how far I’ve come)

If I was a machine
I would be the office printer;

Trying to connect to people
But I get that pop-up message that says
“Would you like to add this device to your trusted network”
And I say “I don’t know”.

I churn out work day after day
I do work for other people who then
Don’t give thanks or
Recognition.

I spend the days overused and underappreciated
And I’m walked past every day
And the most interaction I get
Is someone pushing my buttons to get a reaction.

And I copy the same things,
Going through the same motions,
And I wear out and no one seems to notice
That more than once a day I’m running on empty.

And no one notices the marks on the paper
That shouldn’t be there.
The vertical and horizontal lines and random ink spots
That look like nothing until you really start to stare.

It took a while before someone even noticed.
It wasn’t until the the paper was wrapped in
Red, blue and black ink that someone
Thought about calling technical support and didn’t.

Because it was beyond anyone else on how to try to fix it.
No one wanted to fix it.
“It’s not my job”.
But that wasn’t the point.

It shouldn’t have gotten that bad.
A printer can’t speak.
A printer isn’t heard.
It’s pushed until it jams and freezes and angry ink
Erupts across the paper.
You keep pushing the buttons and complain that
“It’s just not working”.

But that can’t stop you from troubleshooting the problem.
Ask the questions,
Find the fault,
Stop a problem before it gets worse.

Have you ever seen an inanimate object
Book itself into technical support?
It can’t be done.
It’s so paralyzed with
Confusion and fear and
Plastic.

But it cries into the fax machine,
Desperately hoping to make a connection,
Desperately hoping to call metaphysical technical support
To finally get the help I need but
I’m rooted to the ground
and routed through the ground.
Going through the motions,
Breaking a little more each day.

‘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:

I’ve managed to get out and make new friends and rebuild some old friendships.
I’ve started to build momentum on the Scottish spoken word scene. People recognise or have heard of me now, and that’s weird.
I’ve got a small, fantastic fan base that just keeps to be building.
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.

Upcoming Show: We All Have Fears!

So I’ve been quiet on here for the last little while, but it’s all been for a good reason, I swear!

It’s because I’ve been working on my first ever full-length, solo show, which debuts at the Edinburgh Horror Festival this Friday! Banshee Labyrinth at 6.00pm!

I’m scared and excited for this! A mix of some old and new material all neatly packaged in a strange little box. I have no idea how well this is going to go, but I’ll definitely be keeping you all posted! Who knows, I might even create a nice little book from this, or post up a video or poem or two!

#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 100 – Why?

I don’t really know why
I do what or do or why
I put myself through this
One hundred day quest
To write poetry.

And even though
Some of it wasn’t my best,
I can say I put
Myself to the test
And passed and
A hundred poems can
Attest to that.

But you see,
This was something
I never thought I could do,
And when I said
“I write poetry”
I felt I had to prove
Something to myself
And to others because

I didn’t get a BA or Honours
In English or Literature
Or something relevant to this.
I worked my way from the bottom,
Primitively stringing as many
Words together as possible and
Aiming for the stars but
Preparing to miss.

But on the way down
I found some catharsis.
And a million different
Ways to play with words.
I found my life’s
Meaning and definition
In a thesaurus and dictionary
And found my voice
Through trial and error.

And now I can say
The things I want to say
The things I need to say
The things I didn’t know how to say
The things I didn’t know I wanted to say
In a way that let’s my
Incoherent and bipolar mind
Sound somewhat like it’s sane.

You and I have both found
Ourselves asking why I
Chose to go down this path.
I’ve asked myself this question
A hundred times in
A hundred ways and
I’ve arrived at
A hundred different answers
That twist and bend and
Find their way back to
This place.

This place where
I’ve not found myself but
I know I’m getting warmer.
This place where
I know I’m going to keep looking.
I know I’m around here somewhere.

#PoeticAnswers 99 – Are You Sure We Exist?

I think that I think I exist.
If thinking equals being,
Then I think that I exist.
But it’s not a conscious
Decision to will myself
Into this existence
And this is evident by
The persistent indecision
That I find myself facing
On a daily basis.

Because I’ve lived
My life thinking
“I think, therefore I am”
But I find I am in
A constant battle of
Positive versus negative
And logic dictates
I wouldn’t wish it
Upon myself so
Who did?

How would I know
If this wasn’t just
Some kind of crazy,
Inconsistent coma dream
From one too many
Car crashes, causing
Flashes of different lives
To flash across my eyes
In a systematic series of
Fortunate and unfortunate events.

Maybe this isn’t even me,
Maybe I’m someone else’s
Fantasy or hallucination,
A nighttime thought creation
Or process of dissociation,
A cultivation and culmination
And overall manifestation
Of stress and frustration
Or a figment of a
Perfect stranger’s imagination.

But at the risk of waxing existential,
I don’t think we’ve considered
The absolute potential of
Being part of an extraterrestrial
Game of The Sims.
Being trapped at the whims
And mercies of martians
Or deities who let us
Virtually have no control
In our lives.

Question from Justine F. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 98 – What Would You Do If You Couldn’t Fail?

I wish I could say
I would take the time to
Do something sensible, like

Resit that maths exam
Or ask you out or
Wish for peace,

But the gravity and
The bitter reality
Is this:

I would stop trying,
I would stop learning,
I would stop being me.

I would become bored,
I would become complacent,
I would become a failure to myself.

I would probably become depressed,
I would probably stop caring,
I would probably kill myself.

Question from Michael Clark from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 97 – Can You Write A Poem In Another Language?

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Translation:

Humans are not computer data.
We are not simple codes,
Boiling down into ones and zeros.
If anything, we are hexadecimal.
Many sides, many shapes
Multifaceted.
But this is still not enough.
If we are told we can be
Anything we want to be.
But only if it fits in
The molds of our peers and predecessors.
Humans are not computer data,
We are flesh,
We are water,
We are fluid
We are new
We are change
We are living.
We are not ones and zeros.
We are not computer data.

Today’s question comes from fellow poet, John Simpson. Check him out!

#PoeticAnswers 96 – How Do You Say “I Love You”?

Sometimes.”I love you”
Isn’t something I can say.
Sometimes it’s just an
Outstretched hand in an awkward silence
Or a look of admiration in a moment of pride.

I say “I love you” in
Early morning cups of coffee and
Unexpectedly ironed bedclothes.
In unsolicited text messages and
Midnight instant messenger conversations
And emails of kittens at work.

I say “I love you” in
Long walks in the sunset
And sacrificed jackets in the rain.
In shared tears and
Inappropriate laughter at
Inappropriate jokes.

But most of all,
I say “I love you” with meaning
And without speaking.
By showing you my hands
As I gesture “I love you”
In a language that
Only we understand.

Question from Sarah P. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 95 – When Did You Realise How Good You Are?

It’s was never exactly obvious,
It was more like the longest
Dawning of the day, except
It wasn’t a twenty-four hour
Turn-around time for it to
Come around, it was more like
Several years of night skies and
Never shining out of the darkness.
Feeling a sort of substandard
That could only be applauded
By best friends and parents.

But since starting to write
And stage these poems,
I’ve seen real people,
Rooms of strangers
Clinging onto every word,
I’ve heard them laugh,
I’ve hugged them when they’ve cried,
I have had statements from people stating
That they can relate to
The work that I’m making.
Even though it’s not anything
Particularly groundbreaking,
The fact that it can actually
Mean something to someone.

This never happened overnight,
I never expected any of this,
I never expected to find this bliss
Or happiness in performing
Poetry.
I never imagined feeling
Good about myself or
Having other people
Appreciate and listen.
It doesn’t feel real,
It doesn’t feel every day,
But in this moment of
Existential realisation,
I’ve come to realise:
I’m pretty fantastic.

Question from Megan C. from Facebook