Beck Beat Poetry

Open mic

Things need to change
Complain complain complain
Lets do something about it
Somebody already is
Well lets do it as well
It’s not going to change anything, nothing ever does
Lets do more
Nobody will come
Lets do it differently
They’re busy doing their own thing
Lets do it in the dark
Nobody will care
Lets do it with people we don’t know
There’s already too much of it out there
Lets do it in Beckenham
With a microphone
In a bookshop.


Having spent much time reading many of your words on screen, I recently got a hankering for some real, in-the-flesh poetry. A few events in London and some irregular You-Tubing later and my appetites whetted… Thankfully, the thoughtful wordsmyths at The Beckenham Bookshop agreed to support my urge to witness more of this on my own doorstep. Ergo…

Here’s your invitation to a free, Open Mic, Poetry event in Beckenham, London.
Tuesday 1 March, 6.30PM-8PM.
Sign up on the door for a 7 O’Clock start, with each artist given up to 5 minutes airtime (depending on numbers), you will enjoy a poetic reception at The Beckenham Bookshop and see the start of a regular, ‘local’, poetry event.

the first open mic poster

the first open mic poster

Key words

I keep forgetting to keep doing this… but often remember the words…

bujonswords

Relax!
Kick back,
take stock,
unwind.
Accept where you’re at:
ease the fret
from your mind.
Take an open account
of your life
and of those
who make colour and add
to the light of our kind.

Be free
in your head.
Be steady
be true –
as open to change
as the clouds are to blue.
Stay focused,
directed,
keep rhythmic
and new.
During spiralling lies
sincerely be you.

View original post

Failing?

A magic standard gas lover
fell tragic to your arms.
So life fled quickly gushing
so little life left – gone!

Your hazy lady caught you,
a measured catch and true.
Where once you saw times mystery –
now stood loves lady new!

Was this to be our final strut
the tired late risers failing?
A love, though strong, much lacking –
a potent force, harsh; abrupt.

To Smoke

To suck & breathe foul yellow air,
To suffocate;

With each chemically enhanced
Lungful

Each wispy grey breath
To die:

Inhale
Exhale
Mournfully golden teeth and fingers
Yearning for pungent
Rancid
Alluring fags!

Pleading for the next big toxic kick!
As cells give up and blood thins out

Just one rasping gasp
One wheezing whiff

Just one more nicotinous smoke
To smoke.

cigarette ads

Sweet short

Here she sits a lady truly blue
Sweet heart lays in her lap for you
She whispers some sweet treat in time
And blurs the lines of your afternoon

Like something is wrong
In the tune in her song
Like something has left
She has sung it so long

She’s your silent Dido – carved of stone
Living in a life you dreamed was blown
As shadows stretch and rise and die
Your night lights with her white-rose tone

[revisited from Dec 2012]

There’s My Way…

Full of tea yet low on greed
How much you query the green!

All of the money and honey you stash.
Why do you need to have all of that cash?

Here I rot topped up with pot
And dysfunctioning? Me got not!

As round this life you scream in fits
Killing time and joy – losing love in bits.

Burning up days with rants and quarrel
Smashing dreams down, leaving the rubble?

How do you righteous become so bloated
When out in this liberty, I grin easy and float on.

Theres my way

Er…

Booze

Are you happy?
Angry?
Sad?
When you drink
do you go mad?
Do you drink
to
drown
your
sorrows?
Or down drinks
to cheer tomorrows?
Are you happy?
Angry?
Sad?
Can you recall
what thoughts
drinks had?

Squirrel, Kelsey Park, 2012