Hello. I sung a song the other night at Taking the Mic in Exeter at the Phoenix Arts Centre. It’s about identity. I hope you like it.

Performance poet and Professor of Whimsy
Hello. I sung a song the other night at Taking the Mic in Exeter at the Phoenix Arts Centre. It’s about identity. I hope you like it.

Hello, here’s a poem that I performed the other night. It comes from my collection Woodview, published by Beatnpress a couple of years ago.
It’s about the time we cleared out my Grandfather’s garage after he died, and we found some graffiti on the wall written by my mother when she was still a girl, in 1959. The graffiti said ‘Kookie Forever’, and it referred to a character in an American TV show that she had fallen in love with.
I hope you like the poem!

I spent my teenage years writing comedy short stories. Eventually I would join a writers’ circle and read these out, but that’s as far as they ever got. Around the year 1999 I decided I wanted to become a serious writer, and got into some very pretentious high literature, such as James Joyce, or Juan Goytisolo, and I dreamed of literary stardom and making a difference. I conceived of a book which would be so special that it wouldn’t even have a name, that’s how pretentious I was back then. At the time, I was young, enthusiastic, newly out, with my first partner and my first flat. My hobby was travelling all over the world, and I really thought I was going to be the most famous writer who ever lived. Ha!
I wrote the book between 2000 and 2004 and then promptly never looked at it again. I never sent it anywhere, and I never let anyone read it. The only thing I did with it was to take the entire second part and make it into a play, ‘Fuselage’, which actually won a theatre writing competition and was performed / rehearse read over two nights by a professional company at the Northcott Theatre in Exeter. That was in 2008. And I hadn’t looked at it since.
Until the other day, when I found the damn thing on a memory stick. It was saved in twelve different parts, so I’ve just spent all of today gluing them together as a word document, (I didn’t use word back then), and the book is now complete for the first time. I’ve decided to give it a title, too – ‘Orbs’, after one of the main characters.
Anyway, I’m not going to do anything else with it. But I thought you might get a kick out of reading the synopsis so that you can see just what a car crash the thing was. It was written in Devon, Copenhagen, Toronto and New York, which is probably the only notable thing about it!
Orbs
Robert Garnham
Part One
Chapter One : Cassandra meets Lucas on a train. She is, apparently, recently bereaved of her boyfriend Aaron. The chapter is narrated by Mister Collins – apparently an ex-lover of Cassandra’s. On the train, the conversation between her and Lucas is overheard by Orbs who announces that Lucas can, if he wants, bring Aaron back to life through literature. Of a sudden the train grinds to a halt.
Chapter Two : Lucas insists on leaving the stranded train. They walk through the woods to a mansion house where they are expected by Mrs Ohspander. Cassandra is insistent that Lucas write Aaron into existence for her. They stay the night. Over dinner Lucas decides not to do as he is asked. Orbs arrives and takes Cassandra out to a chapel in the grounds of the house dedicated to the life of Aaron. Orbs explains that Aaron – (despite being dead) – is the narrator of the chapter.
Chapter Three : Cassandra is distraught. She wanders in the forest and returns to the house. She cannot find her way in. Instead, she spends the night in a heated greenhouse. Lucas arrives and they make love. They discuss the re-invention of Aaron and Lucas declares to her his love. Cassandra drowns Lucas into the pond and returns to the house. In the library she meets Orbs who says that Mr Collins has been watching her. Orbs hints that Cassandra is, in fact, dead, and that it is Mr Collins who has invented her for a character in a book. Aaron is very much alive.
Part Two
Chapter One : Lucas and Jakub have crashed in the desert. Jakub is injured, Lucas cares for him, and a bond of love develops which Jakub does not reciprocate. One day Orbs arrives and cures Jakub’s injured leg, finds them food and water and solves many of their problems. Lucas is convinced that Orbs is an evil spirit intent on separating them. When no-one is looking, Lucas sabotages the radio equipment.
Chapter Two : Orbs organises the makeshift camp and ensures that food and water are available, and Jakub’s leg begins to heal. Lucas is afraid that this will result in the end of his association with the older man. He remembers the cacophony of their crash-landing. A sandstorm blows in and, unnoticed by Jakub, Lucas murders Orbs.
Chapter Three : Jakub questions Orbs’ disappearance, Lucas finally admits to killing him. He walks off into the desert and is rescued, eventually, by Grainer and Shelley, who come back for Jakub and drive them to the nearest city. Grainer asks where Orbs is but Lucas remains silent. Jakub then admits to having crashed the plane on purpose.
Part Three
Chapter One : Rozetta is a curator at a museum of writers in Paris. Meek, ineffectual, she wishes she were more like Jakub, an adventurer who always gets what he wants. They are sent to the mountains in order to secure precious artefacts pertaining to the poet Michael Afff, but there is something about the small kingdom which they both find intimidating. Rozetta rests in her hotel room and hears footsteps approach, menacingly, on the veranda.
(The paragraphs of this chapter have been numbered and mixed up. The reader must choose from three possible combinations in order to read them. Only one is correct. Superfluous, ‘rogue’ paragraphs have also been inserted.)
Chapter Two : Back in the city, Rozetta feels herself changing into a confidant, brash young woman. Jakub, meanwhile, loses all his confidence. Rozetta also feels herself inundated with words and poems. A representative of the mountain kingdom, Orbs, reveals that, in an attempt to bring back Michael Afff, his DNA has been injected into them both. However, a mix-up has resulted in Rozetta being infected with Jakub’s DNA, and vice versa.
(This chapter has footnotes which explain Orbs’ motivations. The footnotes also have footnotes, which spell out a short poem. This, too, has footnotes.)
Chapter Three : (Takes place after Chapter One). In the mountain kingdom, Rozetta walks around, dazed. At the cathedral she watches the High Priest of a cult based on the work of Afff – Orbs himself. Jakub meets Orbs in the park – he explains that this was the only way to bring Afff back. It is hinted, though, that rather than being a mix-up, Rozetta actually is infected with Afff’s DNA, and the poet is taking over.
(This chapter is written entirely back to front. The reader must determine this for themselves. Also, a new mark of punctuation is used, the explanation of which is also contained within the narrative.)
Part Four
Chapter One : Deni is trapped inside a poem in ancient Greece. Rozetta is coming to his rescue armed with a copy of Micheal Afff’s poetry and a river-boat, deep in the jungles of the Amazon. The expedition comes across a statue deep in the foliage of Rozetta herself. Orbs appears in the poem and offers advice to Deni, and then he appears on the river boat as an interested observer. It is hinted, however, that it is Rozetta who is trapped in a poem and that Deni is the author.
Chapter Two : Deni, as the author of Rozetta’s adventure, is himself trapped in a cage in Vienna during a masked ball. Orbs visits him and implores him not to tamper with the narrative, it is having a negative effect on Rozetta’s existence. Meanwhile, in the jungle, Rozetta and Orbs investigate a mysterious abandoned city. Back on the river, their boat is attacked by natives and it sinks below the water.
Chapter Three : Deni is in a cabin of an ocean-going container vessel, he is also an amateur artist. Rozetta and Orbs are travelling through the jungle on an overnight train. In the restaurant car Orbs plays piano jazz, romance is a possibility. The container vessel picks up a man floating in the sea in a life-raft, it is Orbs. On the train in the jungle the brakes are applied – Orbs and Rozetta investigate and discover a container vessel, lifted out of the water and placed one hundred miles from the sea in front of them.
Part Five
Chapter One : Deni and Robert are lovers, living in a caravan at a seaside town. They are conducting a theatrical experiment in which members of the public, unwittingly, are participants in a secret play. Deni’s ex-lover, Orbs, arrives, and they reminisce – Robert feels jealous. After a night of partying in which Orbs’ intentions are frustrated, they wake to find the caravan – and themselves – hundreds of miles away.
Chapter Two : Deni and Robert have been transported to a sand dune and a wide beach, a desolate landscape. Deni bemoans the loss of his desk and his project. Orbs helps reconvene the project in their new location. Robert sees Eeon, a deck-hand on a pleasure boat. Wandering in the sand dunes, he discovers Deni’s desk. Later, on the same pleasure boat, Robert tells Deni that he has seen the desk and Deni reacts angrily, forces the boat back and runs off into the dunes, never to be seen again.
Chapter Three : Robert, Eeon and Orbs are staying at a lighthouse. Robert continues Deni’s project. Eeon picks up foreign stations on his radio, incomprehensible speeches. Robert falls in love with Eeon. Orbs is worried about his place in the universe and his ever-decreasing sense of youth. During a thunderstorm Eeon and Robert listen to the radio – the speaker hints at religious and cultural conflict. Eeon feels lost and uneasy. The foreign speaker then starts mentioning aspects of their private lives, their deepest fears. Running to tell Orbs of this, they discover that it is he who is the speaker.
Part Six
Chapter One : Ostensibly a meditation on my own childhood, the autobiographical sections give way to a narrative based on the imaginings of Eeon’s own childhood in tandem with my own. A kindly relative, Orbs, has spotted the doubt in myself and proclaims to know of a solution – that life should just be lived.
Chapter Two : A comedy tracing the career of Cassandra, a modern artist working in New York, and Robert, a poet, each of whom has run out of inspiration. To advance Cassandra’s career, Robert spends a night in her studio and concocts works of art on her behalf, aided by the janitor, Orbs. On realising the futility of art in life, Robert decides to kill himself by jumping off a crane into the river, but Orbs saves him. Arcs is revealed to be a manifestation of Orbs’ imagination. Examples of Arcs’ work as an artist are placed within the chapter as visual representations.
Chapter Three : Robert is a poet in New York, seemingly without friends or success. His sister, Cassandra, is the subject of a retrospective at the modern art facility. Robert feels left out. At the launch party, he feels distinctly out of sorts, until he sees Cassandra slumped in the corner, depressed by fame. The next day he goes back to the gallery with the help of the janitor, Orbs, and he replaces the works of art in Cassandra’s exhibition with posters of his own poetry. Lost in the gallery, he meets Stefan and they fall in love. Robert becomes successful and he and Stefan host a magnificent party.
I had a wonderful time performing at Guilfest yesterday at the Literature Tent, brought to you by Fiery Bird. I taped my set, which you can hear below. The poems I performed were
Blimp
Plop
Big Bag O’Pants
The Nature Reserve
Shakka Lakka Boom

Thank you for reaching out to me.
It seems that everyone is reaching out to me
These days.
Every bloody email,
‘I’m reaching out to you’,
Like I’m drowning.
The only thing I’m drowning in
Are emails saying
That someone is reaching out to me.
So here I am reaching back.
Reaching out.
Reaching up!
Where are you on high that you should
Reach out,
Reach down,
That I am so lowly
As to be reached out to?
Thank you for your email, you knobhead.
Where were you that time a black hole
Manifested itself in my air fryer?
Where were you that time I got
Knees in the groin by a nun?
Where were you that time
I heard a rustling in the public litter bin
So I went to look but got the bin lid stuck on my head
Wedged by my ears
And the rustling was a rat and the rat
Bit the end of my nose and clung on
And I tried to pull my head clear but the bin lid
Came off
And I went racing round the park
With a bin lid stuck on my head
And a rat clamped on the end of my nose
And I was shouting, get it off, get it off?
Where was your reaching out then?
No reaching out was done.
No stretching a metaphorical arm across
The formless void that separates us.
That void is there for a reason.
I’m thinking of renaming myself Sid.
Sid seems the sort of name
That people don’t reach out to.
I’ve never known someone called Sid
Get reached out to.
No reaching out to Sid.
Actually I’ve never known someone called Sid.
But if I did know a Sid
I wouldn’t email saying I’m reaching out
I’d just say, hello Sidney,
Do you mind if I call you Sid?
Reaching out is bollocks.
Reaching out is bollocks.
I think I’ll say it a third time,
Reaching out is bollocks.
Please stop reaching out.
I hate reaching out.
Cease this reaching out.
How corporate crap is reaching out.
How benevolent, you tosser,
With your reaching out.
Stop your reaching out.
I thought I’d just
Touch base.
I thought I’d just
Touch base.
Draw a line under it.
Kind regards, kind regards,
Reaching out, touching you,
Bugger off.

Here’s a new poem for you. It’s only eight lines long, and it’s about identity, I suppose.

Hello, here are three poems I performed the other night. Flurgen is a new poem and this was its first ever recital. I hope you like them.


That tiny mouth
Screws tight like a cat’s arse.
His eyebrows arch down
Like wiper blades on a
Written off Citroen.
He closes his eyes screwed tight
And makes the same sort of noise
As the grunt my gran lets out
After banging her shin on
The coffee table,
And then he makes another sort of noise,
Similar to that uttered by someone
After they’ve realised they’ve
Stepped
Barefoot on a slug.
That’s noise number two
He wrinkles his nose
And some snot comes out.
It’s there on his upper lip like a green
Hitler moustache.
His shoulders are pale white
But there’s a semi circle of orange.
He smells of chip fat and fudge.
He quivers for a bit
Like an old fridge turning itself off.
Soaked in sweat, he
Collapses onto the bed,
The bouncing motion of which
And the big slap
He delivers to his own belly
Causes the moistness to fly off,
Flobber around the room
Like one of those big dogs with drool
When it shakes its head.
He then makes a noise
Which might be laughter but sounds
Like a
Cat about to throw up a fur ball.
Donald Trump
Enjoyed his orgasm.
Earlier in the year I went to Norway and went up a mountain in the Arctic circle. And when I was at the top I could think of nothing better to do than film a poem. It was very cold.
Annie Edson Taylor
The first person who went over Niagara Falls in a barrel
Was Annie Edson Taylor.
It wasn’t some daredevil gentleman in a wax moustache,
It was Annie Edson Taylor.
She had grey hair and a severe bun and looked
For all the world like a Sunday school teacher,
Because she was a Sunday school teacher.
Times were hard in 1901
And she was Annie Edson Taylor.
She can be seen in grainy photos,
Her black skirts and sensible boots, and a pure white
Long-sleeved blouse done up with a collar and a brooch,
She looked like she took no prisoners.
I’m going over Niagara Falls in a barrel, she said,
And good luck to anyone who tried to
Talk her out of it.
Annie Edson Taylor.
And she would do it quickly.
Taylor swift!
Things are getting desperate and you need some dough
Fortune comes with fame it’s the only thing you know
Your life has been so normal so I guess it’s just a blip.
You jump into a barrel ride that river to the lip.
Heart in your mouth as you plummet like a stone.
The world will know your name but for now you are alone.
You demonstrate resilience, you’re ever so brave.
Perhaps you won’t be buried in that nameless pauper’s grave.
The beast she tamed was seldom forgiving but for her
It purred like a cat.
The other beast was destitution
And that was far less placid, and it roared like a tiger.
Annie Edson Taylor,
You disappeared,
Conned out of your money, your belongings stolen,
And time ran out, you faded,
Annie Edson Taylor,
Subsumed into the fuzz and static of folklore.
My mate Ethan wears shorts when he’s
Riding around on his moped.
And he thinks that’s pretty dope,
But you went over Niagara Falls in a barrel.
That’s the last time I moan
Before going to the dental hygienist .
You went over Niagara Falls in a barrel.
You were Annie Edson Taylor.
Noone can take that away,
You were Annie Edson Taylor.
You were audacious.
You were Annie Edson Taylor.
You were sixty two.
You were Annie Edson Taylor.
Sticking it to the men.
You were Annie Edson Taylor.
Queen of the mist.
Annie Edson Taylor.
You died in poverty.
Annie Edson Taylor.
