Shindig, The Western Public House, Leicester

A healthy crowd turned out in the middle of the holiday season for this event, which is held bi-monthly, within the convivial surrounds of the Western Public House. Most Spoken Word evening have their own distinctive characteristics and Shindig is no exception. The two halves of the show are promoted by two different entities, Crystal Clear Creators, represented by Jonathan Taylor who tonight had the second half, and Nine Arches Press, represented by Matt Nunn and Jane Commane, who took the first half . A ground floor bar simply converts into a performance room. A combination of a microphone and a solid crowd ensures sympathetic surroundings for proceedings which attract an educated and appreciative, but not elitist, audience.

Crystal Clear Creators is a not-for-profit arts organisation devoted to developing, producing, publishing and promoting new writing. It works with new, up-and-coming and established writers. It records, produces and broadcasts spoken-word material; it publishes anthologies and pamphlets of new writing. Nine Arches press is an independent poetry press that aims to publish the best contemporary voices in handsome new poetry and short story pamphlets and collections.

First up was Matt Merritt who has become something of a fixture on the Midlands poetry circuit in recent months, unsurprisingly, his stagecraft is now finely honed. Matt’s debut collection, Troy Town, was published by Arrowhead in 2008, with a chapbook, Making The Most Of The Light, by HappenStance coming out in 2005.

His poetry has appeared in magazines and anthologies in the UK, USA, Canada and Australia, Matt lives locally, and works as a journalist for Bird Watching magazine. His most recent collection, Hydrodaktulopsychicharmonica, is available from Nine Arches Press, but he ranged freely across the whole pantheon of his work in his reading.

One of the pleasures of hearing a poet several times is in becoming accustomed to the breadth of their work . Zugenruhe was a fine piece on migration, with the underlying sense of anxiety and restlessness powerfully underscoring it. Coolidge intriguingly examined the eponymous US President whom the Reagan Administration had sought to favourably reinvent, whilst Summer Breeze was a wistful and pleasing homage to a friend who died young. On the evening it was 1984 which stood out, a powerful fusion of the social upheaval of the miner’s strike and the bowling menace of the West Indies cricket team of the time.

Closing the first half was Deborah Tyler- Bennett, a lady with Nottinghamshire roots, but a national reputation. Her chapbook collection of three portraits in poems, Mytton… Dyer… Sweet Billy Gibson… is available from Nine Arches Press, and dominated her reading. Quirky, historic , regional characters, they offered rich material from which to draw, Telling the Bees of Jimmy Dyer was particularly atmospheric.

Deborah works as a poet for many national galleries and museums, including workshops for The Science Museum, The National Gallery, The Collection, The Usher Gallery, and most recently being resident poet for Sussex Day at the Royal Pavilion Tearooms, Brighton. That sense of history and place pervaded her reading with Moonlit House from Revudeville (King’s England, 2011), a ghost poem, oozing class.

This was the first time that I had seen Deborah perform and she exceeded her reputation. Confident, assured and instantly engaging, her poetry was as sparkling as her purple patent heels, and her commitment to the poetic cause was evident when she took time out with me to enthuse about her editorship of Coffee House magazine. She has also been translated into Romanian, although why remains a mystery to be resolved at our next meeting!

First up after the break was Alex Plasatis , an exophonic writer undertaking a Creative Writing PhD at De Montfort University who has also co-edited the third volume of Hearing Voices, the Crystal Clear Creators House magazine. The increase in migration, particularly within the EU, will undoubtedly increase this phenomena within English literature. In Germany they have characterised this as “Auslander” and “Migrantenliteratur” ,and the phrases axial and postnational are sometimes used. But the term exophonic seeks to draw a distinction between the differing contexts of production of writing by non-native speakers and native speakers of hybrid identity calling attention to the politics of style in non-native speakers.

Now all this may seem a little high-brow but it is the context within which Greek National Alex performs. Trying to explain or categorise his performance is a challenge, but it was an absolute joy. Loosely a collection of bawdy erotic stories which would make Chaucer blush, it is introduced as being the story of a louche, lothario landlord who chances upon the opportunity to regale his young tenant with the tales of his sexual adventures. Neither conventional poem, nor straight story, it meanders, diverts, entertains and delights in equal measure – and brought the house down. If you have wondered about the libido of seventy nine year old grandmothers and the etiquette of wearing blue nighties in front of your girlfriend’s parents, then check out Alex next time he is in town!

Roy Marshall closed the evening for Crystal Clear Creators. Describing himself as a Leicestershire based poet, dad, a son, a brother and a nurse, Roy enjoyed success in a Guardian competition two years ago and has never looked back. His laid back style took in BBC Children’s programming of days gone by, Nirvana’s farewell UK performance, the smoking ban, and his children. Light, accessible with an unerring eye for humanity ,it was a thoughtful coda for the evening.

The undercard of open mic poets was uniformly high and almost entirely comprised serious subject matter. Mark Goodwin performed a nature poem detailing a country walk which was exquisite in its execution, Maria Taylor evoked the era of knife thrower’s assistants marvelously in a triumph of the virtues of preparation and skilful editing, amongst many fine performances. Shindig next meets on 24th October, free entry.

22/8/11

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Spoken Worlds, Old Cottage Tavern, Burton on Trent

This open-mic event is now established in its ability to draw attendance from far and wide. Under the skilful stewardship of MC Gary Carr, the standard is high, and the evening always moves on at a brisk pace. It also tends to be quite diverse through happenstance, tonight was no exception. A strong body of poets was on hand to present their wares, and it was material from books which dominated proceedings.

Ian Ward, from Lichfield Poets, has read several times before. This time he chose to present his first collection, Light and Darkness ,(United Press) for its debut outing, which contains over three dozen poems. A social worker by profession Ian’s work is eclectic and off beat. Fantasy horror, contemporary pop culture and love are all visited by his pen. Stolen Away a piece on dementia, stood out.

Barry Patterson presented mainly from the second edition of his successful , Nature Mystic , a collection which reflects his interest in the relationship we have with our environment. Astronaut will resonate particularly with those old enough to remember the moon landings, whilst Advice to a Geordie Miner Lad in Pooley carries an authenticity which transcends the need for having had to have been there. A part of the permanent Polesworth Poetry Trail, Barry reflected that it was a contribution which had come easiest to him over and beyond others to which he had committed more time. Yet it is that immediacy and cohesion which makes the poem such a pleasure to hear, particularly when delivered with a Geordie accent.

Mal Dewhirst took the opportunity to introduce us to the work of some contemporary Irish poets, having just returned from a trip to the Emerald isle as a guest of O’Bheal in Cork City for a three day visit of readings as part of the Cork-Coventry Literature exchange. The first was the Galway Poet Elaine Feeney. He read from her collection published by Salmon, Where’s Katy, the highlight of which was Urban Myths and the Galway Girl, which was constructed from the ephemeral observations of one of her co-workers in a Hairdresser’s salon . The second was Teri Murray whose work Mal sampled from Where the Dagda Dances (Revival Press). A playwright and Editor of the Revival Poetry Journal the book contains new work and selected favourites from previous collections, now out of print. Warm and reflective, her poetry was distinctly Irish fondly echoing the past.

In addition to the reliably strong core of open mic poets, we were also treated to two short stories, one a Peak District fable, The Nailer of Belper, the other, by Richard Young, a traditional Japanese Ghost story representing a departure from Richard’s previous appearance in which he had focused on comic verse. Spoken Worlds meets again on 16th September at 7.30pm, free entry.

19/8/11

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The Arc of a Brick

Dense and angular
Lacking aerodynamic qualities
Propelled by brute force
It cuts through the night air
With no evident sign of friction
Destined to meet its fate
By gravity and diminishing momentum alone
At sudden impact
Crazed cracks spider outwards
The puncture hole gaping
Sparkling glass in dull splinters
Bruised edges flake
Flat side scrapes
Inert.

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The Olde Tavern

In the bowels
Of the growelry
The brabble
Ebbed and flowed
As barmaids foozled
Offering frothy pints
In swoopstake abandon
Elbows bowed

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The Rise of the Planet of the Apes

Going Ape on the Golden Gate


I am pretty neutral about the Planet of the Apes series. A nice idea, but not essential viewing. So I approached this instalment with low expectations – and was pleasantly surprised. It re-imagines the start of the story in a contemporary setting, cleverly instantly bringing it up to date. There is also a coherent story to follow to ensure there is no over-reliance on special effects. Combined, it works rather well.

The formula (pun intended) is stock sci-fi fare. A scientist, Will Rodman, played by James Franco, discovers a drug which accelerates intelligence in apes, and appears to offer benefits to dementia sufferers of whom his father is one. A disastrous sales pitch results in his drug company abandoning the project, Rodman rescues the baby chimp , Caesar, of its drug treated mother who has inherited her modified genes, tests the treatment on his ailing father with promising early results – then things start to go wrong.

Director Rupert Wyatt’s only previous mainstream effort was the scarcely noticed ( but soon to be reappraised I am sure )“Escapist”. He keeps the story skipping along using well worn, but effective devices. The baby chimp is cute, a pretty female vet tumbles into his bed very easily to provide some glamour, the Drug Company executive is evil and gets his comeuppance, the ailing, then recovering elderly Rodman senior provides breadth and another dimension, to the story as well as a strong emotional pull. And there is the cruel animal sanctuary attendant and a scene which echoes very closely one in The Elephant Man.

Excellent use is made of location, particularly the Redwood forests and the Golden Gate bridge on which the final showdown is staged. The combination of human actors and cgi to animate the apes is convincing and effective with Caesar acting as much as the human characters. Special mention should also be made of the music which captures the mood perfectly echoing the score for the original King Kong.

There are some compromises for the 12A certificate. The original film made famous by Charlton Heston explored some Fascist and Totalitarian themes, largely ignored this time around. The frontier spirit of freedom embodied by the Redwood forests is hinted at, but left. Equally, explicit violence is kept to a minimum with the apes making some fairly arbitrary displays of restraint upon gaining their freedom. The animal sanctuary itself seems pretty generously proportioned, and well populated for a State facility (how many apes need to be re-housed in San Fransisco?), but also makes for a fine location for some significant scenes. As a consequence the film is visceral enough to entertain teenagers, toned down enough to enthral older children, and sufficiently well made to engage adults, which is why it has done so well at the box office.

At just over 100 minutes the story does not outstay its welcome and the ( guaranteed) sequel is solidly prepared for in a way which does not make what the viewer has seen feel like just half a film. Enjoyable and entertaining this is a worthy addition to the Sci-fi genre.

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Pure and Good and Right Summer Slam

The Sozzled Sausage, Leamington Spa

This was the first time that Behind the Arras had visited Leamington Spa and the Summer Slam seemed the perfect opportunity to do so.

The Sozzled Sausage itself has a modern trendy interior with the event being held in a conservatory area which made things accessible to the curious who might just have popped in for a quiet drink, as well as the poetic cognoscenti. George Hardwick officiates, and is the face and voice of proceedings, fellow organiser Kim assists unobtrusively. The pub is quiet on a Monday night resulting in the Poetry crowd dominating proceedings with no extraneous distractions.

Ingeniously, the evening encompassed two things, the slam and an open mic option, which worked well. Slams are popular, as is the format, but some want to present their work without a competitive element, and those people were wisely catered for too. A well balanced sound system ensured that the weak of voice were heard- whilst the strong of voice did not overpower.

The performers were diverse both in style, and content. John Shaw was urbane, and reflective with a very good piece on food rationing entitled Lovely Grub. Poetry can do many things, and one element which John demonstrated is its ability to preserve historic mores which will exist only on the page in the future. Lovely Grub was just that, authentic, nimble and accurate. Unsurprisingly he went through to the semi finals.

Other semi-finalists included organiser George Hardwick (independently assessed by a panel of impartial judges!) and Mister Morrison. I had never seen George perform before, but was aware of his reputation. He was hugely impressive. The Power of Stories was both a call to arms, and a celebration of the form, all wrapped into one.

A veritable invocation which inspired as it sought to extol the inspirational power of stories. His semi-final poem was no less potent, a stirring, moving, Inviting Love, in which he called on the healing powers of love to visit all, ” existence is the sound of love”, moving, and quite brilliant.

Mister Morrison is an unassuming, and very talented young man. He opened up with Angie, an innovative, intricate and sophisticated performance piece. It addresses the audience through the device of calling them Angie, thus enabling him to speak personally to each audience member (“for the sake of convenience can I call you all Angie?). It is amusing and smart, ensuring an immediate and ongoing connection throughout the poem which makes it pretty much the ideal performance/slam weapon.

His semi final piece was, In Aprils Eyes, a fond reflective piece based on his work with disadvantaged children, his winning finalist poem was Danny Boy, another intimate work, this time about his relationship with his brother. The latter two as subject matter would not have succeeded without the humanity and love which he injects into his writing, and an Everyman quality which characterises it. He was the worthy overall slam winner whom I was happy to acknowledge as such in the final, which I personally contested with him.

Suburbia is a topic beloved of poets and songwriters alike, and Ade Barton had a good crack at it. John Mason drew on Philip Larkin as inspiration for The Knight and his Lady, and Craig Lambert entertained with Is the Pope a Catholic.

Yet it was an open mic participant who particularly caught my ear, Sam Elvyheart. One of the joys of this type of event is how individuals appear out of nowhere, mumble something about not having done much of this sort of thing before, and then reveal themselves as burgeoning talent. Daddy Dear was an intensely personal reflection on her relationship with her father which was strong, fragile and engaging. I hope we hear more of Sam, the warm reception she won should inspire her.

A great evening and a credit to organisers George and Kim. The trip home took on a surreal air as text messages warning of riots in Birmingham and gathering crowds in Coventry and elsewhere were juxtaposed by BBC Radio Coventry running a programme on “Words I Hate” and playing James Brown’s “I Feel Good” whilst our urban areas descended into anarchy. ”Pure and Good and Right” next meets on 12th September with Roy McFarlane as the guest poet. 08-08-11

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Fading Fun

Mary Mack, jumping jack
Not too rough Blind Mans bluff
Ball tag fracture the flag

Hide and seek every week
Hide your face for kiss chase
Hopscotch fun for everyone

I spy with my little eye
The playground echoes to cries and call
Resounding ring of paddle ball

Make them up , do what you are able
Splayed fingers rocking the cat’s cradle

Chinese whispers friend’s eldest sisters
Laughing, cheating , ever bolder
Essential skills for when we are older

Oh the games we play

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Garden Control

Its reptilian jaw chomped
Bony shell barely visible
Amidst swaying blades

Nimble teeth nibbled
Mesh and floppy ears
Casting eerie shadows

Mournfully munching
Grey wisps fluttered
Billy goats gruff

Swift hooves danced
Lithe legs poised for flight
Daring to graze

Janet rested
Glass in hand
Lawnmower redundant

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White Rabbit

Time can be both a kind, and a cruel, master. As a child, I remember hearing Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit” and enjoying it as a pop nursery rhyme, particularly enjoying the “feed your head” line. Over forty years later, I still love the song. In part it is due to childhood association, but I certainly do not feel the same way about it as Rolf Harris’s “Two Little Boys” for instance. As an adult I admire the song for being far more clever than I had originally given it credit for.

The drug narrative is only part of it. The simple arrangement, particularly the drum beat, creates an air of summonsing a gathering, as a drummer boy might. It is also calling you to listen to the song:

Grace Slick in Concert

One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don’t do anything at all
Go ask Alice
When she’s ten feet tall

And if you go chasing rabbits
And you know you’re going to fall
Tell ’em a hookah smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call
Call Alice
When she was just small

When men on the chessboard
Get up and tell you where to go
And you’ve just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving low
Go ask Alice
I think she’ll know

When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen’s “off with her head!”
Remember what the dormouse said:
“Feed your head
Feed your head
Feed your head”

Grace Slick, the lead singer, was a bit of an Earth Mother in appearance making it even more subversive as if she was plotting to undermine the nation’s youth. Now? She is a small grey granny, painting a bit, but long since retired from music and performance and a casualty of drink and drugs. Indeed I have seen Jefferson Starship twice in recent twilight years and was shocked at how the good looks of a youthful Marty Balin have now morphed into those of a drug addled zombie with an unnerving resemblance to Phyllis from Coronation St. I did see Jefferson Airplane in their pomp once, at Knebworth who were stunning, but who had to perform a hastily re-arranged set because Grace was “indisposed”. Overall, I think that Starship/Airplane are much under-rated. The former incarnation boasted the superb ballads “Caroline” and “Miracles” , the surreal “Hyperdrive” ,and the great rocker “Ride the Tiger”, whilst the latter excelled with ”Volunteers”, “Somebody to Love”, “Have You Seen The Saucers” and the cover of “Wooden Ships”, amongst others.

Yet nothing quite matches the hypnotic simplicity and subversive call of Grace Slick on “White Rabbit”.

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Polemic on Freedom

Man is born free, yet everywhere he is in chains,
So I read,
That Rousseau said ,
And he is still right,
Tonight,
As freedom becomes twisted to make and sate
Whatever self centred hybrid that we can create
For ourselves, but not- for each other

And so freedom for the people of Gaza
Means imprisonment behind their own border
And a nation state is free to deprive the sick of medicine
To protect their own order
And oppress others
Which is no freedom at all
But the mentality of those who think small

Whilst in Brussels we talk of free trade
Of what money can be made
But the children of Somalia want to be freed
from the greed
Of warlords who would rather buy guns for themselves than water for the thirsty,
To purchase death rather than save life
Where oppression and strife,
Reigns,
But no new rain eases the scorched earth of destruction

Yet it is not just far away
That our feeble minds have strayed
From what is right and is wrong, for so long.

Old freedoms lie in the balance
At the mercy of corporate dalliance
And careless staff do the rounds
In homes to be sold off or closed down
Of men and women who fought for freedom
Not this.

And they will have you believe that Gordon Taylor from the players football association
For having a meaningless telephone conversation
Hacked
Is due compensation
Of £900,000
While the elderly cannot get around
Because the money cannot be found

In whom can we be trusting
When our liberties lie rusting
In such specious, spun words
Ringing hollow and absurd.

So saying what you do mean, is mean
Or demeaning?

Or is it the mean of what you mean that is meant?

What was the meaning?

Was it what you thought, but did not say,
Or what you said but did not mean?

Or was it just that we did not glean
From what you said
What we should have seen?

Were your words pristine?
Or not what they might have been?
Is it that on which you were not keen?

And if you now say you did not mean what was said
What was read -And you said it,
Well what did you mean?

What should we, the team, glean?

That you say what you mean?
Or that what you said you didn’t mean?
But it should not have been seen.

And although what you say, you do not always mean
As the words can refer to another scene that was seen,
You do now,
(From what I can glean)
Think that we should trust you and hold you in the highest esteem.

But not what you say.

Well not always.

Not what you said yesterday, anyway.
Just what you say ,today. Ok?

You think that we should believe you, that what you say is true
Maybe some of the words, perhaps just a few?
But when some talk of freedom be wary of such claims
Test what is said carefully, and listen for those chains.

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