monstroooo

Hello,

Sorry, it's been a while. How nice to see you! Please, do come in.

Tea? Something stronger? At this hour? Oh, well, go on then.

I expect you're come to learn about my rebirth as a performance poet, haven't you? What? Well, you should.

Since publishing my illustrated poetry book, Drunk With A Pen, in December 2016, I have rather gotten the bug for perfoming poetry to a room full of strangers. I can't seem to stop. In about a week's time I'll be performing my 100th set. And in about 3 weeks time, I'll be travelling down to Brighton for a nine-day run of my solo poetry show.



This is super exciting and super scary. I could be performing to an empty room for 9 days in a row. I could be performing to 30 people a night. I just don't know! What I DO know is that this is a huge stage for me, and I am determined to make each night special. An important part of that is attracting an audience into the room - atmosphere is so, so important to live events.

On top of the show itself, I've also booked in 3 street performances, one variety show, and a handful of popular open mic nights. Phew!

I know I'm not on dA much these days. I owe a great debt to the literature community here - I learned so much. But my work has moved into writing for video games and performance poetry, which doesn't share all that well. And like a lot of people here, I'm trying to protect and value my work by not instantly sharing for free.

Having said that - the thumbs below go to a few of the poems I'll likely be performing at the festival. Some published, some not. Hope you enjoy - and if you're anywhere near Brighton in May, maybe I'll see you at a show?

-Joe

The ChangeThey used to go ice skating.
Indoors under summer sun;
Outdoors under silent snow:
She used to lead him by the hand -
But that was long ago.
They used to laugh for hours.
He would make up stories
And she would play along:
But when it came to their story
The ending worked out wrong.
They used to drink together,
One or two under the moon.
But with the baby’s arrival
Something snapped,
And turned his drinking suicidal.
They used to dine together
Candlelight and wine,
Rib-eye and t-bone.
But he drowned out his appetite
And left her to eat alone.
They used to travel the world
But he began catch at the bars.
So she would take their daughter
To build sandcastles,
And return to find him a little smaller.
She could feel him slipping away,
As the whiskey started to win
And the drink started to tell.
Change came sure as the tide
And it left him but a shell.
They used to talk about the change
And he ramble speak incoherent
About the pressures of a man.
And she would do her best to listen,
Bu War Stories
The streets are wide with swagger;
Raucous laughter is the fanfare
Of the soldiers of hedonism.
This perfumed infantry patrols the bars,
Watched by bouncers in doorways,
Former servicemen with guarded salutes.
Johnny’s dropping j-bombs;
Richie’s sinking the navy rum;
Stevo isn’t missing a shot.
The boys are out for blood tonight:
But real heroes befriend before fight.
Waging war with their wages,
Counting casualties in empty bottles,
Earning war stories under neon skies.
Blue collars and white collars
But not a dog-tag to be seen
For the bawdy heroes of Friday night.
Bobby ditched his bird at The Tap;
Gav glassed a geezer at the Geese;
Davey used a sink as a dunny.
The lads want trouble and won’t be denied
But real heroes aren’t born of pride.

This is mostly of interest to deviants near me in Brighton, UK, of which I suspect there aren't many. But it's something worth shouting about!

I will be performing recitals of my book, Drunk With A Pen, as part of Hove Grown festival! I have two dates: 24th and 30th March. Hove Grown is a festival geared towards new writers.

This is a seriously scary step. I've been performing poetry for about three months now, hitting up open mics around Brighton and occasionally opening for friendly bands. I have learned so, so much about the poems by doing this, by the way. Highly recommended if you want to develop your art.

But I've never charged anyone for the privilege before. I just turn up, read four poems, and vanish into the night (well, into the bar). And I'm usually accompanied by something a bit more fun, like a band or at least a singer-songwriter. And suddenly I find myself charging £5 to people to just come and watch me read some poems.

Gulp.

Wish me luck, friends! Linked below are some poems from the collection. If you know anyone based in Sussex, maybe invite them to take a look?

War Stories
The streets are wide with swagger;
Raucous laughter is the fanfare
Of the soldiers of hedonism.
This perfumed infantry patrols the bars,
Watched by bouncers in doorways,
Former servicemen with guarded salutes.
Johnny’s dropping j-bombs;
Richie’s sinking the navy rum;
Stevo isn’t missing a shot.
The boys are out for blood tonight:
But real heroes befriend before fight.
Waging war with their wages,
Counting casualties in empty bottles,
Earning war stories under neon skies.
Blue collars and white collars
But not a dog-tag to be seen
For the bawdy heroes of Friday night.
Bobby ditched his bird at The Tap;
Gav glassed a geezer at the Geese;
Davey used a sink as a dunny.
The lads want trouble and won’t be denied
But real heroes aren’t born of pride.  Drinking Games
When beer goes down too easy
I find other rituals to amuse me.
I partook of afternoon tea
But that dram of assam was measly,
And I only take my coffee Irishly;
So I instead I settled on the brandy.
I tried to play the twelve bar blues
By putting on my walking shoes.
But the third bar brought bad news
As it was happy hour for booze.
So as evitable inebriation ensues,
I drink with only time to lose.
I joined myself a gambling ring
To try a hand at poker while drinking
But whiskey slows your thinking
And I walked away on a shoe string.
Gin rummy was very disappointing
Without a drop in the offering.
The only game I can really play
Is to drink my every care away:
I can go all night and go all day,
From Sunday through to Saturday.
I don’t care what Dean Martin say:
This is what I call amore.  Rocket
These four wall blues
Are suffocating
My Earthly ambitions
And I am trapped
Beneath the weight
Of heavy heart.
I seek escape velocity:
A way out of this
Gravity unwell.
I want to travel
Beyond the mundane
And into the sublime.
I want to dance
Amongst indifferent stars
Carefree and careless.
So I pop another cork
And let this wine
Be my rocket ship.

-Joe

Drunk With A Pen: my printed collection of 13.5 illustrated poems about drink and drinking, is available now!

War Stories
The streets are wide with swagger;
Raucous laughter is the fanfare
Of the soldiers of hedonism.
This perfumed infantry patrols the bars,
Watched by bouncers in doorways,
Former servicemen with guarded salutes.
Johnny’s dropping j-bombs;
Richie’s sinking the navy rum;
Stevo isn’t missing a shot.
The boys are out for blood tonight:
But real heroes befriend before fight.
Waging war with their wages,
Counting casualties in empty bottles,
Earning war stories under neon skies.
Blue collars and white collars
But not a dog-tag to be seen
For the bawdy heroes of Friday night.
Bobby ditched his bird at The Tap;
Gav glassed a geezer at the Geese;
Davey used a sink as a dunny.
The lads want trouble and won’t be denied
But real heroes aren’t born of pride.  Drinking Games
When beer goes down too easy
I find other rituals to amuse me.
I partook of afternoon tea
But that dram of assam was measly,
And I only take my coffee Irishly;
So I instead I settled on the brandy.
I tried to play the twelve bar blues
By putting on my walking shoes.
But the third bar brought bad news
As it was happy hour for booze.
So as evitable inebriation ensues,
I drink with only time to lose.
I joined myself a gambling ring
To try a hand at poker while drinking
But whiskey slows your thinking
And I walked away on a shoe string.
Gin rummy was very disappointing
Without a drop in the offering.
The only game I can really play
Is to drink my every care away:
I can go all night and go all day,
From Sunday through to Saturday.
I don’t care what Dean Martin say:
This is what I call amore.  Rocket
These four wall blues
Are suffocating
My Earthly ambitions
And I am trapped
Beneath the weight
Of heavy heart.
I seek escape velocity:
A way out of this
Gravity unwell.
I want to travel
Beyond the mundane
And into the sublime.
I want to dance
Amongst indifferent stars
Carefree and careless.
So I pop another cork
And let this wine
Be my rocket ship.

You can buy now for £3 plus postage from my Etsy store. You can also see it on Goodreads, if you are so inclined. And being a modern day poet there's also a Facebook page (best place to keep up-to-date with the project, there's loads happening!) and a still-not-quite-finished website.

The book has been produced as locally and ethically as possible, with proceeds beyond my production costs going to a local homeless charity.

In a fit of ridiculous indulgence I held a launch night (pictures available on Facebook, no sign-in needed): which turned out to be a really lovely evening. I had good attendance, sold and signed loads of copies, recited some poetry to a kind audience and had a few musical friends play some tunes.

It's been a great journey getting to this point: now I just have to try and shift these two boxes full of books! I hope some of my dA friends will share in my excitement.

- Joe

 I am so, so proud to announce Drunk With A Pen: 13.5 poems about drink and drinking. This has been a labour of love (and occsionally despair) over the last six months or so.



I am calling it small batch poetry*: a small, printed book of illustrated poetry, sold in bars and cafes. You know, in the real world. Everything is being produced and sold locally to me (that's Sussex UK). I've asked 14 friends to illustrate the poems for me (including super Sleyf ), and they've all done a wonderful job. The finished print is just a beautiful thing.

Proceeds from sales go to local charities. My only ambition financially is to recover my print costs.

I'm not quite finished. The final print run doesn't come back to me until next week, and there's a Website which needs a bit of work (although you can check now to see three preview poems). And I'll be selling online (hardcopy and ebook) though Etsy, but I've not quite got the store figured out yet.

But I'm starting the hype train now . I'll be sharing a few poems here on dA over the coming weeks.

I have set up a Facebook page, if you're into that sort of thing. I'd be thrilled if you'd head over and drop a like - that's the best way to keep up-to-date with the project.

I'm also registered on Goodreads.

Thanks for reading <3

Hello friends,

Pending the release of my UNANNOUNCED BOOK RELEASE*, I'm trying to build up a little bit of a presence on Goodreads. Just enough to make me look like an actual functioning human able to integrate into virtual society. It'll make me look more credible as an author (goodness knows something has to).

You can find my account here . Please pop over and friend or follow, I'll return the favour as appropriate.

Many thanks!

-Joe


* Details in a couple of weeks