And Today's Random Word Is...

...Sing

(time to raise the tone?)

UPCOMING GIG: Spanish & English Showcase

Hola, como estamos?

Mañana, Fri 15th I'll be at the Poetry Café for Farrago's Spanish & English Showcase



Bring on the bilingual brilliance of all the poets who'll either be reading in English or Spanish... or both!

I'm going to try and translate something in time for then so let's see how goes. Otherwise, I'll be performing something in English, something in Spanglish and reading something else by a favourite poet of mine.

Either way, it's going to be fun. See you there!

Split Ends

So here's an extract of a poem I wrote for a workshop recently... A few links to show some of my trains of thought. Hoping to work some more on it over the next couple of weeks:

I was manufactured far beyond

the Bow bells and past the crease

in the Thames where Eastenders credits

roll, past sausage roll sandwiches and saltfish fritters

foil-wrapped and wolfed down on the District

line like this mile ended way too soon.

I grew up in the Far East

in a place where we learnt to curse Hindi

at our teachers while threading earphones through

our Ill-afforded sleeves pulsing with dancehall CHOOONs!  

The markets raised me from the back of white vans

and crooked billets with dog tracks barking their last orders

and car plants shrinking its workers to size.

I grew up at the fold of the London A-Z

in a bus depot where aspiration terminates or

its route begins depending

on which Burberry hat

you cover your headaches with.

 

I rose up on the backs

of cream net-curtains and terraced dreams

and Jafaican lingo:

lay it on, lay it on, lay it on, baby.

But my ends are split like

V signs created in playgrounds

where Sahir and Shawn and Simeon

shuffle cards behind the desk

and we all support Arsenal or Tottenham

unless we like the sound of loser

pushing on our chests.

They are split like

the bifurcated sources of the Northern line like

the edge where my tongue trips lazily over vowels

and my throat skips Ts like they were swinging rope.

Right Way Up (freewrite)

Ok, so this came from a seminar I had tonight. It's short and I may work on it a bit and extend. 
We used a prompt which made me think about "moving" and it brought back a childhood memory about moving home, which I wrote down...

Right Way Up

The bin bag labelled “BILLOWS” goes between the knees

and Bevan lets me lift

the edge of our chipped coffee table

into the back of the new blue van.

The tyres budge a warning

that we will have to return  

to the scenery of our road

for a second trip.

Her-next-door will have to cry

a second time

and the box marked “FRAGILE”

will have to drop again

this time, the right way up. 

UPCOMING GIG... Rrrants tomorrow (Monday) @ Camden Head

Tomorrow, from 8pm I'll be back in my hometown (namely, Camden Town) for Rrrants. It's a special fundraiser for Bardaid, with The Antipoet - who promise to be irreverent as always - plus other guest poets and singers who'll be livening up The Camden Head. See you there, hopefully!

And Today's Random Word Is...

...Detector

Upcoming Gig: Anti Slam London!

Roses are, er, red, violets are blue
Valentine's day poetry... watch out, I'm coming through!



Here's the official info:

The Anti-Slam returns to London with an Anti-Valentine’s Day Special, where the poet with the lowest score wins!

You may know what a poetry slam is: a group of poets present their self written texts, round after round. And then the few winners of those rounds compete in a final round. The poet with the highest score, or loudest applause, or largest number of hands raised wins. It’s fun, it’s competitive, it’s entertaining for the audience.

But what if the format of the slam was turned on its head? What if the point wasn’t performing the best piece – but the worst. We don’t just mean bad: we mean hilariously terrible. Laugh-out-loud embarrassing. Entertainingly cringe worthy. Poetry so bad it transcends quality… and becomes genius.

Ladies and gentlemen… The Anti-Slam! Where the poet with the lowest score wins! Featuring:
Judges:
Niall O’Sullivan | Kat Francois | Adam Kammerling (current UK Anti-Slam Champ!).
Competitors:
Emma Jones | Charlie Dupre | Amy Acre | Amy McAllister | Stephanie Dogfoot |Peter Hayhoe | Katie Bonna | Keith Jarrett | Superbard | Paul Cree
Hosts:
Paula Varjack | Dan Simpson
With poets this good, being this bad, it’s going to be awesome.
When: Friday 15 February, 7.30pm
Where: The Gallery Café, 21 Old Ford Road, Bethnal Green, London E2 9PL
Tickets: £5 / £4 concessions – on the door
Info: paulavarjack@googlemail.com / dan@dansimpsonpoet.co.uk