Performance poet and Professor of Whimsy
As someone at the cutting edge of poetic expression, I thought I’d share this sound poem which, I believe, will tear apart poetry and poetry performance in such a manner that life will never be the same again.
My poetry has often brought people to tears. It’s nice to know that it has such an emotional response.
Hello, once again this New Year’s Day I took to the airwaves with a 45 minute poetry show. This was a mix of new poems, old poems, borrowed poems, but thankfully, not many blue poems. And this year, I set up another camera next to my IPad so that I could record the whole thing!
So in the back room of the shop where I work, I launched into a very eclectic set of poems which included four ‘cover versions’. The list is as follows:
Humming
Bunger Up of Rat ‘Oles (Jack Warner cover)
Surfer Dude
Smurftown
Are you Cool?
Coffee Shop
Mariner Man (Edith Sitwell cover)
The Aviator
In Love and Aviation (Rose Cook cover)
Show me the World
Gom
Gruts for Tea (Ivor Cutler cover)
Ted Talk
Tomas
Straight Pub
Straight (New version)
Fozzie
Traction Engine
Hello. Ever at the cutting edge, here’s a sound poem for your listening pleasure.
Hello,
Every year I concoct a whimsical adventure calendar. I’ve put three of them on my blog for old times sake, you can find them below.
Seasonal salutations to one and all!
2018
2019
2021
A barber I spoke to closes early on Christmas Eve because apparently drunk people decide to get spur of the moment haircuts and I didn’t realise that this was a thing.
The atmosphere in the pub
Had been stale.
Oh, here they come, John thought,
Just as he was thinking of flipping the sign
In the door to CLOSED.
In they pile in their puffy coats!
Lairy, unable to fathom
A system for queuing.
Use your indoor voices, for goodness sake!
One still had his fingers clamped around
A glass from the pub,
Like he really couldn’t let go of the moment.
We all want
MOHAWKS!
(Lads! Lads! Lads!)
Are you sure?
Wouldn’t you rather
Sleep it off?
MOHAWKS MOHAWKS MOHAWKS!
(Lads! Lads! Lads!)
A chant from the waiting area,
Ruddy cheeks and bleary eyes.
Sit down then, he sighs.
Adam first, he adjusts the chair, the lad yells
WAHAAAAYYYY!
I’m going down, fellas!
It’s like riding Big Dippers!
John brings out the clippers,
Cuts away his luscious locks,
Hey lads, Ad yells, hey lads, hey lads,
I’m getting a real buzz out of this.
Do you get it? Buzz!
Geeeeenius!
Who’s that bastard in the mirror?
Want to fight about it, brother?
And by the way,
Is there a draught in here?
Adam,
What the fuck you done to your barnet?
Who’s next in the chair,
Runs a hand though his hair, it’s Rick,
Clipped and buzzed and shorn,
For goodness sake, sit still!
Says Rick : I think I’m gonna be sick!
I think I’m gonna be sick!
Calls for Huey as he leans for the sink,
Oh my god it’s dripping from his chin!
Lads! Lads! Lads!
MOHAAAWWWWK!
And now it’s time for Scoots.
Says Scoots, give me a MOHAWK my good friend!
Make me look less feral, like nature has called!
Says John, I can’t, because you are bald,
I want a MOHAWK gimme a MOHAWK!
I want one now without further ado.
OK says John, let me find
The super glue.
Now stop your shouting, please,
Let’s have some hush.
And someone pass me the contents
Of that dustpan and brush!
And now it’s Aidge, he leaps on the stage,
Your turn now, sit still, stop fidgeting!
Play punch your pal when this is all done.
I can’t wait for my wife to see this, says Aidge,
Oh my she will laugh, it will be such fun!
This is gonna be great, this is gonna be dope!
Hey, why are you taking off so much hair?
What’s a MOHAWK anyway?
Why didn’t anyone tell me what a MOHAWK was
Before we started all this?
Can you put it back?
Can this be reversed?
Sindy is gonna kill me!
Though he nods nods nods
When John holds up the mirror,
See the back of your head?
Yeah, I see the back of my head.
Sad tinsel twists in waves of warmth
From a plug in heater.
The lads all look the same
And a little bit neater.
They pay up in full which makes it
All the more sweeter,
And then, with a belch and a curse and a cry
Of MOHAWK MOHAWK MOHAWK,
Lads! Lads! Lads!
They’re off.
How quiet it is, John locks the door,
A sigh of relief as he sweeps the floor.
Perhaps he won’t open
On Christmas Eve no more.
On the spur of the moment he decides what he’ll do.
He’ll pop next door and get an impromptu tattoo.
A few weeks ago I bought a book of old time music hall monologues. This was one of them. Originally performed by Jack Warner from 1940 onwards.
I performed it before a gig in Exeter in my hotel room.
Hello, here’s a poem from my set last night in Exeter. The poem is called Dreamscraper, from my collection, Hello!
I hope you like it.
Here’s a poem about a windy day. I hope you like it.
Hello, just booked into a hotel and my room has a s-s-sofa in it. I don’t want to change rooms because it’s otherwise quite nice. But I’ve always had a phobia of sofas.
That’s what this poem is all about.
And here’s me, on the s-s-sofa. Being very brave.
Hello, here’s a new poem. I hope you like it.
Robert Garnham