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Thursday, 28 September 2017

A Haibun for National Poetry Day 2017

I've written a Haibun for National Poetry Day, a first for me. The theme this year is Freedom; I hope you like it and may even try and write your own and read some others. It's a challenging form, be gentle with me.


Freedom: A Haibun


Their paths first crossed whilst backpacking in Marrakech and the attraction was immediate. They moved into a rundown riad which became their sanctuary. He wrote while she painted, and when they made love the entire universe ceased to exist and they were all that mattered. When a child came along they named her Free; she played barefoot in the sun and her skin went brown. When the bills started to come he found work in a local bar and she sold her art at the bazaar. Working all the hours they could they found the freedom they were both looking for, and she was everything.


from the eyrie
yellow eyes see more
than we can ever dream


Sunday, 10 September 2017

Read My Poem And Buy The Book

I wrote this a couple of years ago and submitted it to a few publications as you do. It has ended up being published in Creel 3: An anthology of creative writing; a product of the Centre for Creative Writing at Essex University. I could not be happier. I read it at the launch evening, along with some other lovely and talented writers and fellow postgrad students. Held at The Wivenhoe Bookshop as part of the Wivenhoe ArtSea Festival, (and published by their own publishing imprint Wivenbooks), you could do worse than visit a brilliant independent family bookshop and buy a copy for yourself.


Questions

If the Jackdaw that struts across your lawn
like a soldier on parade
stopped and spoke to you of his loneliness,
Would you listen?

If you could hear the cry of the salmon
caught in the eagles claws,
Would you care?

If you saw the fear in the eyes of the moth
trapped in the spiders web,
Would you set it free?

Does the noise the doe makes
as she tries to find her way back
to the safety of the herd
disturb you?

When the leaf falls from the tree
do you feel sadness for its loss,
or joy at the change of seasons?

If you had just one wish
from a Djinns lantern
would you ask for your heart's desire
or would you set another free
from the prison of their own longing?

How many lies would it take
to awaken the phoenix of truth
that sleeps on your tongue?

and how many lives will you need
to live
before you can look death in the face
and still walk the path you have chosen?

Have my questions
tightened the rope you bind yourself with
or opened a door to a greater perception?

Only you have the answer.

I am just a white room
on a sunlit day
with a mirror on every wall.
Wherever you turn
you will see your own reflection
looking back at you.


Will you live here?



Tuesday, 25 July 2017

Newsflash

From the East Grinstead Echo

Notorious burglar Vince ‘The Cat’ Lifter was arrested on Monday morning when a security guard found him wedged in the ventilation shaft in Carpet World, where it turned out he had been all weekend. He had become stuck trying to break through into the Cash Converters next door after forgetting to make allowances for his backpack.
Vince had only recently been released from prison after serving two years for the theft of a pair of £1000 hand-made leather trousers belonging to a well-known politician. In his defence he claimed that he was going to sell them and redistribute the money to the local homeless. He was only caught because the politician who owned the trousers was wearing them at the time.
Born in East Grinstead as Richard Lifter, he changed his name by deed poll to Vince (after a beloved uncle) as he felt Dick Lifter created entirely the wrong impression for one embarking on a serious life of crime.
Vince claimed there is no truth in the rumour that he was caught on purpose as he had become rather fond of the prison chaplain.

Tuesday, 23 May 2017

The Day the Fish Died: A True Story

Written at Colchester Write Night, on Monday 22nd May 2017, the first meeting at our new venue, Firstsite Gallery. We looked at the story behind Grayson Perry's Julie Cope and did a writing exercise  inspired by this. Here is mine...

A young boy likes fishing in the river behind his house; that is a shop at the bottom and a flat at the top. He lives there with his mum and dad and sister, and a big white dog called Penny. Many years later the young boy’s dad remarries and his new wife is called Penny, which amuses the much older but still not very grown up man-boy, but not his dad when he reminds him of it.

The young boy used to fish in the river behind his house that was a shop at the bottom a lot. He would often walk up the road and buy maggots for bait. He (the young boy) used to put the maggots in the bin outside, until one day his mum lifted the bin lid to put some rubbish in and lots, and lots, and lots of big black flies came out. This was not the first, or the last time, that the young boys mum was cross with him, but it was the last time he put maggots in the bin.

One day, long ago, the young boy was fishing in the river behind his house that was a shop at the bottom, and the fish started to float to the top of the water, which was going blacker and blacker.

The young boy was upset, and went back to the bit of his house that was a shop, and told his mum and dad who worked in the shop (and who lived above it with their son and daughter) what had happened.


On the other side of the river that the young boy used to fish in, and loved to wade across in his bare feet and look down at the crayfish in the water and the fish he used to try and catch, was a factory. This factory had leaked some chemicals into the river which had poisoned the water and killed all the fish. The young boy never fished in that river again.

Friday, 12 May 2017

The Politics of the Parrot

So: dearest Theresa is now playing the patriotism card whilst declaring her love for murdering innocent animals; to appeal simultaneously to both the rich backers who own her and the working classes that she despises but wants to vote for her, and definitely won't let the grubby little buggers publicly ask her any questions, whilst parroting her strong and stable motto.
Jeremy is having to prove how tough and strong he is by stating he is not a pacifist and would send the army to war at some point, if needs dictated. Perhaps even if needs don't dictate, or else what's the point having an army? Half the mp's in his own party publicly despise him, as do the media, and would happily knife him in the back at a moments notice, whilst parroting his own for the many motto.
Jeremy's leaked manifesto is microscopically examined point by point and costed by people who wouldn't vote for him anyway, yet no one questions how we can afford the billions to renew Trident, or how the bankers who almost brought this country to its knees and were bailed out by the public avoided prosecution, or how Brexit, hard or soft, will take us back to the 1870's, never mind the 1970's.
Nothing new from the media, just the same old ways of reporting everything; stock phrases, cut and pasted from previous elections. This one to make so and so sound good, that one to make so and so sound bad. Tired, lazy, can't be bothered click bait hackery; their own profession as out of touch with the people they depend on as the politicians, serving no one but their own wealthy owners.
Here in Colchester, Labour and the Greens have gone begging for the UKIP vote, (which the Tories will get anyway). I assume the Lib Dems will at some point; all of them arguing publicly and amongst themselves as to which of them is the only party that can unseat the Tories, a vote for any other party is a vote for the Tories, etc etc etc, blah blah blah blah blah.
And on it goes. Nationally and locally, the same old same old. Rhetoric, insults, posturing; claim and counter claim. Anything to score a point when political careers are at stake.
Am I the only one who is sick and tired of all of it? More and more of us benefit less and less, whichever party gets power. How demeaning is all of this, to us and to them? I've never felt more like not voting for anyone; never felt more ignored and more insignificant.
It's 2017 and we are still arguing over who funds education, the NHS, transport and necessary utilities when more and more people are relying on food-banks to survive, more and more people are suffering with physical and mental illness, whilst we fill our oceans with plastic, pollute our rivers and choke to death on exhaust fumes. More and more slipping through the system, yet at the same time we have more millionaires than ever. Hoofuckingrah!
Is this the best we can do as human beings? Does this serve us? Do we benefit any more from individual party politics with one prime minister elected, whatever their colour, whoever foots their bill?
At some point, somewhere, we are going to have to start talking to each other, all of us; putting differences aside and deciding priorities. Will this ever happen? I don't know, I genuinely don't know anymore. I know that if we don't, we will all lose (if we haven't already), whatever the result of the general election.

Saturday, 29 April 2017

The Next Performance

As a result of the recent module I studied, as part of my MA Creative Writing at Essex University; titled Writing, Poetry, Performance, created and taught by Dr Holly Pester,  I have decided I will undertake, as my next creative endeavour, the following performance:

As a gesture towards Erica Scourti's Life In AdWords and using the assembly techniques of Kenneth Goldsmith's book Uncreative Writing; through the platform of twitter and linked to this blog, the performance will be called 'Feeding my Twitter feed back to Twitter.'

Each day of May I will compose by 'cut and paste' from the days feed, short, haiku like collages (but not following the 5 7 5 syllable rule), which I will then tweet under the hashtag #twitterfeedcollage and #notmywords. I will also post on YouTube a video of me performing it.

This is all a bit new for me, and comes as a result of my studies of the Writing, Poetry, Performance module and the material we studied, and the subsequent assignment I wrote and submitted. This performance is not part of that assignment, or the module, or my MA studies, and it is not being submitted for marking or assessment. It is just me moving forwards with my own artistic endeavours, trying new things, and having a bit of fun in the process.

It's also a bit of a move away from Facebook as my main social media presence. I have been on twitter for a few years and want to make more of it, and I have set up a YouTube account. I am excited about this, which for me is the main ingredient. So not only can you read me, you can see me. How thoughtful I am.

It's an experiment; designed to lighten the mood and as creative play, although of course I am taking it seriously as an artwork, and am committed to it, and will put my time and effort into it.

I'd love to hear your thoughts and comments as I progress. You can leave comments here or on Twitter. At the end of the performance I will review it to see how I feel it has gone, and will assemble the videos together as one piece; hopefully by then I will have learnt how to do it!.

Feel free to follow this on twitter @JonnaKing.

Go on, you know you want to.


Friday, 21 April 2017

Word Random

indicative of
advanced translation origin
random phrases disorder

disoriented
disorganised

incorrect extract meaning term
refers to
unable listener purpose phrase.

Delight.
Inspire.
Make pretty picture words
nonsensical used by speaking

incoherent IT professionals,
when feeling bored
use word salad
       word jumble
       word punch
       word putty
       word rat
       word sauce
       word search
       word shit
       word sick
attempt control 

unfamiliar
unassembled
random senseless order mixture
no apparent connection speech writing
incomprehensive meaning occurring

advanced dissociated clanging
confused second-order word approximation
infuriate grammar police!