Sword and Dagger

Poise, bend, analyse

Tennis samurai,
orange-shirted tai-chi,
disciple with strong knees.

How to best move through the air
to get to where you want to be.

You have your Way,
I’ve my coffee (and cigarettes
zipped in my bag) it’s
all I have,

plus this green pen,
to fly through life
with the skills and brain
and body, we have
to get that ball
to hit your bike
parked in the corner of the world.

Poise, bend, analyse

Trace the process step by step.
That’s technique​! Joyce ‘Donato said
to the young soprano, ​Mix and mix
inside the stomach. Open!
The snake of air whose trajectory
must not, by unnecessary
bits in your mouth
and mind and body, be
encumbered.

Legato, le-gaaaaah-toe!
Legato vowels​, then ​go go go
and follow through​ be Ursula the
villain who is you on the stage,

for there is only true
and only false,
and everyone can see when you are true,
and everyone can see when you’re not you,

says, Tap-Tap-Tap​ the racket and the ground
going ’round the ball to contain it in two
worlds, but the ball just giggles
away, pulls her tongue out and says,

Hey! Hey!
Imma listen to the man,
so let me roll
and let me play!

Come ​ON​, yells the samurai
when he fails to shape the sky he wants.
Gotta listen to the man,​ says the ball, You see,
‘cos he wants his stripe of movement to fall​.

Maybe
he performs for me now? says she.

Stabs her dagger in the bench,
Smells her own blood’s stench.


Written to be read aloud. Inspired by a man practising tennis in Cartwright Gardens called Tom, and Joyce DiDonato YouTube videos. 

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vélo-boulot-do-do // other word vomit

vélo boulot do-do
boulot do-do vélo

do vélo do boulot
do boulot do vélo

boulot de vélo
vélo de boulot

boulot de do-do
do-do de boulot

do-do de vélo
vélo de do-do

do lot de boulot
do lot de vélo

love de vélo
love de boulot

love de do
do de love

love de lot
lot de love

do love
love do

love
love

love

lol


a girl around LSE
carries great quantities three
offensive boring dams to
the current of her fighting
walk a snail-trail of droplets
whilst the trees falling sorely
out her hands save the trees don’t
let them go she thought as he
asked to help the dam problem
don’t leave twigs behind don’t mix
leaves up as she searched for her
silent library card


Glowing laptop screen –
my thirsty eyes in search of
a fresh cigarette.


General trivia

It was a few weeks ago that I had the idea of mixing both English and French in a poem, and wowee last night it just appeared out of nowhere from the depths of my difficult slumber. And when I started reading over this patch of unexpected word vomit I broke into a laughing fit, which has also never ever happened to me with regards to my writing. I’ve rarely written something this strange, so please share your thoughts about it with the Noggin.

The events in the second poem did not happen to me personally.

I’m not very good at Haikus. That one there was a last minute addition.


Endnote

Look after yourself and one another.
Take some time on your balcony.

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Ode to Exams / The Balcony

Hello exams.

My old friends.

I know what you do now. You change us.

You grab the frogspawn of the cosy pond and chuck it onto the ground like a bunch of black marbles. You take our friends away with a click of the spiky latch of the door by sucking the air out of their bedrooms; the only syllable I’ll hear from them and not even uttered by a human mouth. Continue reading

The Ultimate Survival Guide for April 2017

Make sure you don’t go to the library.

Make sure you don’t eat your contact lenses.

Make sure your eyes are still watered.

Make sure your skin still flakes off.

Make sure your tongue is still slimy.

Make sure you’re not walking with your hands and elbows.

Make sure your fingernails are still firm and stuck on the tips.

Make sure your voice doesn’t sound like a duet between a stained tupperware box and a mouldy piece of bread.

Make sure your back isn’t bubble-wrap, but if it is make sure you don’t get addicted to popping it.

Make sure you are not petrified by humans.

Make sure you look left, right, up and down.

Make sure you try different costumes.

Make sure your daily alarm is called “Remember, you are not a dustbin nor are you a piece of broken tarmac.”

Make sure you know that the washing machine is not a bathtub.

Make sure your coughs exit the body.

Make sure you are not the fantasy and travel sections of a bookshop.

Make sure you’re not wearing the bathmat as a scarf.

Make sure you brush and floss in time to the music.

Make sure you recognise yourself in the mirror.

Revelation at Eurostar Check-in

Did I know that

burger means
citizen in Flemish
anyway, it’s bürger in German.

It all makes sense now
why some cities end

with -burgh
like Edinburgh

why some
end -bourg like
Strasbourg and why

some with -burg
Freiburg aha and

why, it feels good

to make burgers.

Three Word Experiments – 3 April 2017

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Puppy

Sometimes I feel like a tired, hungry puppy
Pulled at the leash to places in positions
That no longer make me look like a doggy.

Oh why do humans do this?
Can’t you see
I like to stand on four legs
not just three. Continue reading

Word studies / excerpts

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16 October 2016

Sunday morning. Look out beyond your bedroom door. Celebrate the sunlight humming along the silent corridors and the caress of your blood floating back to room temperature.


7 January 2017

pro cra sti na tion |prəˌkrastəˈnāSHən, prō-|
noun

The process of swallowing an abnormally large tablet. A deeply uncomfortable experience regardless of its nutritional content and proven long-term benefits. Positive effects include (but are not confined to): rays of sunshine, drops of oil to your joints, strengthened muscles. However, such accounts have little bearing on one’s decision to actually and willingly accept the giant particle. Subjects are warned to expect a dark, prolonged sense of dread right up until the relaxation of the tongue muscles, a period which can last from 10 seconds to even 1 month or more.

The task – allowing this pebble creep down your throat and grind against your windpipe – is not to be underestimated.


2 February 2017

The most beautiful thing I saw turning left onto Russell Square, was an overweight blue rubbish truck as beaten and bruised and triumphant as a gladiator.


3 February 2017

Today I feel the filth of London and the gritty woes of its people enter my lungs, drying the moistness at the back of my throat, as if I’m inhaling the excrements of dust mites and vacuum cleaners in a windowless room.


Tuesday 19 July 2016: Too hot to sleep

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“I am burning, I am burning … “

Well, thank you London, for showing me you’re capable of producing summer, but I am not sure if I can handle it.

Today I was stuck to the Tube, or more specifically to the millions of green and blue poly-fibres sprouting vertically from my grimy seat, which always cause unexpected yet significant discomfort against the bare skin of my thighs if I happen to be wearing shorts or a skirt shorter than knee-length. All these tiny sticks of plastic pointed and poised defiantly on my skin, irritating it slowly but surely, burning as the sun does as you walk about nonchalantly, gently going about its job as a minor disappointment in my perfectly decent life. Continue reading

Reading week: Hemingway, Burlesque, Halloween, Food

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My neck and legs are in agony and it’s all my fault. I can’t even look down at a book without flexing and feeling a sharp twang behind my head. Did I sleep funny?

Oh yes, I do remember. It was the hair-throwing head spins, one slow and two high-speed rotations in the routine. How many times we did the routine, I haven’t a clue. A dozen times maybe.

For all my life, ahem in the context of orchestral warm-ups, I’ve been advised to never tip your head ‘too far back’, but ‘just enough to see the ceiling’. Last night I went so far back I could have thrown my head out the window and into London Bridge station. Who’d have thought that a burlesque class could put such strain on the human body? Continue reading

The Rise of the Superhuman

She is back, after an unintended three month hiatus.

She has returned after recovering from a deadly bout of the notorious disease, Freshers’ Flu. 

She has clicked ‘New Post’ on her WordPress dashboard after finally acquiring some basic, Sociology-For-Dummies understanding Durkheim’s analysis of modern and primitive societies, at 2:30am.

Not only is she back, but she is roaring on a new noble steed.

A BICYCLE.

Continue reading