shut me in, shut me out

Well, as I’ve said

I’m a performance poet

And I have to say

It’s a tough gig

The writing’s tough

And the performing is tough

Particularly the writing

Because at least the performing is a social thing

And one of the bollocks-ups in my whole time as a performance poet has been how I barely wrote for years

Because I was running shows

Like from 96 to 2005 I hardly came up with a poem a year

Frequently less

And as someone said, [well me]

You either administrate

or you create

...

So I had to stop running shows in order to write them

Which is a good exchange

Even though I was pretty good at running them

Only so many people on the planet are good at running them

Most people who try are actually bad

But me, I wasn’t bad

Not afraid of hard work

And willing to talk forever about performance poetry

…

And one of the bummers of writing is the amount of wasted work

Wasted thought wasted time wasted struggle wasted grief

Especially when you see how disorganized I am as a writer

As I said, my filling system resembles the childhood card game,

Memory

But the thing about writing is that you don’t know its going to work

I have pieces I’ve been writing for twenty years which are no nearer completion than they were ten years ago

And, as they’re exercises in lyrical beauty, they’re probably unperformable

…

Maybe they’re like pieces Russian writers would write under communism

would work on for years

without hope of their ever being published

so they would work and work on them for decades

purely for their own sense of art

painstakingly perfecting them

year after year after year

not in the belief anyone would ever see them

but purely to make them function perfectly as works of art

whatever, these days the optimum time for writing a poem is, i reckon, 3-4 years

which is alot yeah?

...they gestate

...

at length

...

lines attract other lines and it all coalesces

...

…

And the piece below is a classic example

I worked on it for a good six years

Editing and editing

And had it almost ready for 2005

Editing and editing

Almost ready for 2006, well I learnt it

Editing and editing

And for 2007 I rewrote it and relearnt it

Editing and editing

And actually performed it in Ottawa and Montreal

Editing and editing

Like 13 times

Editing and editing

But it simply didn’t seem to work within the show I had

Editing and editing

So I stopped

Editing and editing

And I may bring it in again at some point

Editing and editing

...
though maybe I’m a bit old for such full-on-ness

but its alot of work to have put in for zero product

and there's alot of lines and couplets and refrains i like

not to mention the flow

but whatever, its most likely i'll never use it

and as i know it does work, maybe its a good example of how a solid performance piece doesn't have to work on the page

or maybe it does work on the page

i'd be surprised, seeing how its essentially impressionistic

i honestly wouldn't know

and don't have to know

...

Whatever, here it is

...

To be performed at a right old rate of knots and with ever increasing gusto...

...
...

You’re going to spend a long time being

The you you become

So it pays to becoming a you you like

Yes, you’re going to spend a long time being

The you you become

So it pays to becoming a you you like

And me? …I want my heart

To bend and not break

To lend and not take

To quiver not quake

To river not lake

To bend and not break

To give and not take

To quiver not quake

To river not lake

But aah

the ifs and buts

and slights and cuts

and wrongs and ruts

and slammed and shut

And ahhh its

Your loss my gain

My pleasure your pain

My loss your gain

Your pleasure my pain

Your loss my gain

My pleasure your pain

My loss your gain

Your pleasure my pain

Cos ahh, we are the dogs of liberty, dogs of liberty, dogs of liberty

We are the fakes of liberty, fakes of liberty, fakes of liberty

We are the ghosts of liberty, ghosts of liberty, ghosts of liberty

We are the dogs of liberty, fakes of liberty, ghosts of liberty

And we are but rollingstock

for the poisons of the past

only in us can they be borne

into the future

AND SAMUEL BECKETT HE WROTE

I’M DOWN IN A HOLE THE CENTURIES HAVE DUG

AND JAMES JOYCE HE WROTE

I’M TRYING TO WAKE UP FROM THE NIGHTMARE OF HISTORY

AND WHO’S MINDSET WOULD YOU PREFER?

WHILE GEORGE SATAYANA HE SAID

THOSE WHO KNOW NO HISTORY ARE CONDEMNED TO REPEAT IT

BUT I THINK

THE MORE YOU KNOW

THE MORE YOU GET STUCK IN THE TRAPS OF HISTORY

THE LESS YOU KNOW

THE MORE YOU’RE AN UNWITTING VICTIM OF HISTORY

SO THE TRICK IS

TO STAY BETWEEN, TO SURF BETWEEN,

KNOWLEDGE AND LACK OF KNOWLEDGE

AND THAT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IS

The tricky bit

for I believe FREEDOM IS THE LAND BETWEEN WHAT YOU KNOW

AND WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW

And the only free mind is the mind which never stops learning

And I wonder if the freeing

Is in the yearning

So this is called

IF YOU’RE NOT GROWING YOU’RE SHRINKING

I was making myself feel queasy

so I tried to empty myself into the bin

but it ain’t that easy

seeking to meld

and weave

and thread

a newness,

but held by the

unsheddable

logic of my

head

…

seeking to live and create and be

on the beach where the shore meets the sea

to not get dragged far out into the chaos

with little chance of a return to land

yet neither be beached immoveable

on the sane grounded unchanging sand

…

seeking to be thrown and washed

and pulled and pushed

on the beach

and so retain the chance

the knowledge

the choice

of each

o roll me in roll out

wash me in, wash me out

pull me in pull me out

push me in push me out

no pretence at any pretence

a pleasure in every sense

come on now while we jest

lets go see about this mess

me I sought I sought up I sought the rest

born to be ripped off

me i got tipped off

and me I ripped the script off

i sucked it up and I chewed it

i built it i blagged it i blew it

i let the chaos overwhelm me

physically and mentally

this was me running round

and running aground

dispassionate at my own disaster

troughing and cresting from tears to laughter

life whole

never

no whole goal for the soul

ever

a life only possible in bits

in fragments

together

so shut me in shut me out

draw me in draw me out

wear me in wear me out

throw me in throw me out

the cars growl impersonal

the shopfronts impossible

the streetshow freakshow a sped up slideshow

of head after head after head

the old skin shed and

the new-skin noose-skin covered with

dead

drowned in the sea of gaping faces

spluttering abob in the tunneled spaces

stiff in the streets stiff like treacle

ricocheting blundering tripping slipping

through the cracks in the ranks of the banks of the people

with

a rhythm from your head to your feet to your core

running fast running ragged running slick running raw

a rhythm from your lips to your hips to your core

running wild running on running true running more

the rhythm becoming an energy

the sound becoming an melody

the choosing becoming a cruising

the choice becoming a voice

a collision a decision

an emotion a musing

a sound a booming

a fusion a fission

a rolling rhythm climbing higher,

the stretch becoming a reach,

the flame becoming a fire,

the rolling risen pulse of cadence,

now falling,

now falling further still,

and soon,

now,

scaling higher

so

draw me in draw me out

deal me in deal me out

talk me in talk me out

see me in see me out

so, no pretence at any pretence

a pleasure in every sense

come on now while we jest

lets go see about this mess

everything's been done, yet

the world hasn't even begun yet

don't you know you little fool

you never can win

wake up to reality

i got you ...

because yes, its a fine fine line

between the malignant and the benign

but, ooh, don’t you like the vibration

of being caught in the oscillation

between capture and liberation

so, twisted, hamfisted

pucker up those lips and kiss and

count me in count me out

talk me in talk me out

see me in see me out

shut me in shut me out

born to be ripped off

me i got tipped off

and me i ripped the script off

and became a pinball poolball

a bowling down the lane ball

a saneball sameball bouncing round the

trenchlike streets of the mazelike city

the pitiless suburban neatnesses

of the pretty suburban pretty

with

a rhythm from your head to your feet to your core

running fast running ragged running slick running raw

a rhythm from your lips to your hips to your core

running wild running on running true running more

the rhythm becoming an energy

the sound becoming an melody

the choosing becoming a cruising

the choice becoming a voice

a collision a decision

an emotion a musing

a sound a booming

a fusion a fission

a rolling rhythm climbing higher,
the stretch becoming a reach,

the flame becoming a fire,

the rolling risen pulse of cadence,

now falling,

now falling further still,

and soon,

now,

scaling higher

and I’ve some inner specifications to rearrange

for some increased acceleration in the rate of change

yes I’ve some inner specifications to rearrange

for some increased acceleration in the rate of change

the expansion of the possible

and the shrinking of the done

a growing sense of newness

and a nearing of the

unbegun

the backlog of new beginnings

the racking up of good reasons why

cos nothing beats a try like a failure

and nothing beats a fail like a try

its the quintessential trigger

of intellectual rigour

so blow me out of this one to the

sound of floors smashing

of a piano crashing

on rock

through every level of a high-rise block

cos its a disaster we’re not moving faster

and I’m not out of here yet

so find me in find me out

try me in try me out

fit me in fit me out

shut me in shut me out

no pretence at any pretence

a pleasure in every sense

come on now while we jest

lets go see about this mess

born to be ripped off

me I got tipped off

come on now before you guess

lets go see about this mess
...