Gig Reviews Archives

DIY Poets At Southwell

15 June, 2017 Martin Dean Comments 0 Comment

There is a strong link between the traditions of folk music and spoken word, based as they are on the oral tradition. With this in mind, ten poets recently gathered at Southwell racecourse for The Gate To Southwell Folk Festival on the weekend of 10/11th June 2017 to spread the word.
On Saturday they gave the festival public two hours of the very best in self-penned poetry. Topics ranged from dining in the dark to a life in music, from making a brew to ‘fecking’. On Sunday festival goers were also invited to join in with the ‘Southwell Slam’ where members of the audience voted for their favourite three minute poetry performance. Congratulations go to Shaun Moore and Hazel Warren who were jointly given the accolade of ‘Bard of Southwell 2017’.

Poet And Spoken Word Organiser Leanne Moden

DIY Poets at the Maze, May 18th 2017

21 May, 2017 Martin Dean Comments 0 Comment

A Night of Poetry, Reviewed by Jake Wildeman
Jake Wildeman Reviewed by Sue Allen

I’ve only performed at the Maze a couple of times, but I find I quite like it. With dimmed lights and a drink in hand (alcohol or otherwise), it’s easy to take a breath and forget the world outside of this room full of poets. There’s also something deliciously intimate about performing in a corner, a certain sweet vulnerability and openness to putting yourself there. Indeed, every poet bore their hearts and thoughts for all to see. After a sound check courtesy of the lovely Lytisha Tunbridge, we were underway… the first of our three halves compered by the eternally-waistcoated Andrew Martin.

Our opening poet was Sue Allen, who joined us all the way from Sutton-in-Ashfield where spoken word apparently still isn’t a thing. Her first piece was one she’d written for a recent mental health awareness night, In Your Head. The poem was titled ‘Monkey Mind’, and focused on Sue’s perceived personality flaws and how she’d wish them away if she could, before finally accepting them, then realising she’d be “left with a fucking monkey shaped hole” were she to cut them out. The whole set was laced with delightfully crude humour and language, particularly her second piece, titled ‘Gagging for It’, which tore apart the style of today’s youth, addressing them directly: “pull your jeans up lad, you look a right twat.” I’d have almost been insulted myself, if I considered myself anything like the youth of today. She ended with an old piece, which I didn’t catch the title of but was decidedly hers, all comical feminist outrage at her man. Here, she wishes for a better one, one who knows that “poking me in the back with his broom handle… does not amount to foreplay.” It was quintessentially Sue and the perfect piece to close her set.

DIY’s answer to Morrissey: Jake Wilderman gave us three “miserable” poems which I found to be moving and thought provoking.
The first “Memento Mori” a reminder of our mortality and the importance of living the life we have with all the fire we can. “Burn with fire enough to scorch the very ground at your feet”.
The second “Obsequies” explored deep emotions and left me breathless.
The third “We’re all we’ve got” spoke of friendship and the shared experience of being outside the crowd.
As always Jake shook the room and rung out our collective hearts with his words. Is it wrong that Jake’s misery gives me so much joy?

Next up was Frank McMahon who, after the short plug of a fundraiser for Mapperly Labour Party, delivered a decidedly political set of rapid-fire poems in his signature concise style. Highlights included ‘Let June Be the End of May’, featuring some wonderful wordplay and ‘Confession Time’, a piece branding Boris Johnson an “infection”… I’m inclined to agree. For me the standout work was ‘Hillsborough’, a look at both the tragedy of and corruption behind the eponymous disaster, with the painfully honest line: “Only one ambulance allowed on the pitch, the ninety-six never stood a chance.” Frank’s brevity always lend his poems a greater impact, whether it’s the hammering home of a political statement or the delivery of a punchline.

Following Frank was our compere, Andrew, who opted to perform a single lengthy piece in contrast to the previous set. After introducing his poem, ‘School Smells’, Andrew walked us through a nostalgia trip back to our days in education. Taking us lesson by lesson, capturing the childish excitement of “Chemicals? Fab!” and “bunsens burning” in science, the disgust of “sweaty youths” in P.E., weaving in happy memories of “making things happen” with the aforementioned chemicals, envisioning the open field as a “springtime universe.” As the work progressed, it grew darker… ending with images of “kids on cloud nine, smoking”, perhaps reflecting how the world can seem evermore grim once we’ve grown up enough to look.

Jake Wildeman
Featured Poet John Merchant
John Humprhys
Steve
Lytisha Tunbridge

Martin Dean, our timekeeper, closed off the first half with a varied set. Opening with a joke, Martin challenged us to “Imagine a world without hypothetical situations”, before moving into a new poem he described as “nonsensical, but fun to write.” I personally found ‘Crossing Consonants’ just as much fun to hear, an absolutely beautiful description of the writing process. Martin also touched on politics by way of immigration in his third piece, ‘Nothing Dries Sooner Than a Tear’, based on a photograph of a three-year-old Syrian boy washed up on a beach. This poem contained no small amount of horror and disgust at the happening, but I found myself drawn in by the subtle tragedy that “there are no footprints in the sand.” Closing his set, the final work was ‘Nadir’, a short and sweet romantic piece featured in the most recent issue of DIY Poets magazine.

After a five minute interim, we were into the second half. Our compere from here on would be Hazel Warren, who introduced the evening’s next poet, an infinitely delightful woman: herself. She opened with a small piece, no longer than two or three lines, on her habit of confusing Tracey Thorn and Tracey Emin. Who are these two Traceys, you ask? Well, Emin is one half of a musical duo, and Thorn is that radical artist with the bed… I think. What really grabbed me during this set was the final piece, titled ‘No Physical Trace’. The words were sombre and regretful, and particularly memorable was the line: “I wrote you a letter… but you will never gaze upon my penmark.” It reminded me of a lyric from Jawbreaker’s ‘Do You Still Hate Me?’: “Wrote you a letter, I heard it just upset you.” The whole of Hazel’s poem carried this feeling of things gone irreparably wrong or never having been right in the first place, it’s a familiar sensation that makes for an excellent piece.

Next up, serving as the jam in the three-part DIY sandwich before our open mic, came Martin Grey. He served up a hefty dose of satire, his signature dish, with a poem titled ‘That Theresa May’, tearing apart her oft-moked “strong and stable that’s for everyone.” Mid-way through the performance, he loses his words and later confirms: “I dislike her so much it makes me unable to read my own writing.” Martin’s second piece is a favourite of mine, ‘Steve and Mikey’, introduced as being about when those two UKIP MPs had a punch up and it was really funny. Here, he truly shines as a performer, enjoying the poem as much as the audience. Finishing up with yet more mockery, this time the crosshairs line up to Jeremy Hunt… or as Martin would call him in this closing poem, ‘Cunt’.

The last DIYer to precede the open mic is described as “the crusty-bread side” of that aforementioned sandwich, “the ranting bastard”, but I personally revere him as high-lord of the pre-amble. John Humphreys takes to the stage and plugs his very exclusive and damn-near impossible to find book, ‘The Day I Swallowed the World’. John began reading from the book, which everyone should buy because it is amazing, warning that he’d go over-time. He introduces the piece ‘I Wanna Be a Rock ‘n’ Roll Star’, word for word, explaining that poets and rockers aren’t so different and that to be a poet would be “a good second best to rock star.” Once he starts the poem proper, he kicks into full performance mode, keeping us all engaged with his powerful voice. One line in particular caught my attention in the first stanza: “Grab the microphone. Scream, not sing.” Yeah… I agree… screaming is so much more fun.

After John finished his piece, we began the open mic segment, which I simply had to include in this review. The first big highlight was our very own Lytisha’s short set, with ‘The Difference Between Poetry and Baking’ poking fun at the idea of instructions for how to create poetry, while providing a very amusing and relatable analysis of writing habits, followed by her duet with John Humphreys, who returned to stage and delivered with her a captivating rendition of his piece ‘Symphony of Sea’. The second highlight came from Kirsty, a first time performer who appeared from nowhere and shared with us an untitled yet beautiful poem on the emotional confusion of youth. She then offered a mesmerising piece on that magical, almost-psychic mutual attraction, when you just know that they feel the same… dare I say she got me feeling romantic again. I adored the whole set, particularly the vulnerability of “eyes connected, opens parts unprotected.” This girl is one to watch, and I am eager to see her again wherever she may turn up.

Another five minutes and much mingling later, our headliner starts his set. What can I say about John Merchant? He’s a font of positive energy, with or without a microphone. When John typically performs a set, he will double up his poems, with one written from the Christian perspective and another from the secular. This alone should show you what sort of a performer he is: as much as he enjoys being up on stage, he’s there to appeal to you, to make you smile. John advocates a maintaining a peaceful and steady pace in life, throughout his twenty minutes, closing his first poem with the sentiment “if we don’t get through it all, it’s like a serial: continue the next day” and highlighting the importance of twin virtues patience and hope in ‘Wait and See’. Standout pieces for me focused on staying lighthearted and opening yourself up to others, welcoming them into your world, as in ‘Getting On’, a poem about “that feeling of backslapping… unity” which calls for us to “kill misery at its source.” This is as close as John ever comes to aggressive imagery, and it’s quickly followed by a return to images of having “a spring in our step.” I wouldn’t call it aggressive so much as actively positive. John performed another favourite of mine, titled ‘Silence Is’, early in the set, and this piece best sums him up as a performer. Here, he tears down the idea that silence is a desirable thing, much preferring the stuff of life to the absence… “there is not silence from the babbling brook, nor is there silence from the rook… let’s not have silence, let’s have the dance!” There were also more overtly religious pieces woven into the set, such as ‘Good News’ and the hymn-like ‘I Am Come’. Perhaps the most thought-provoking poem was ‘Overly Popular’, a wonderful look at social circles that become “like a forest you can’t get out of”, expressing dismay that the way some people are elevated above others “stops us being like a sister, a brother.” This has been the first time I’ve ever reviewed any sort of poetry event, and I’m very glad I got the chance to cover John.

After finishing up his set, John retired back to his seat and the night was closed with music from local folk rock duo Hope Fiends. Frontman and vocalist David Pyper opened with a poem of his own about cigarettes entitled ‘Inexorable Farewell’, before these two left me pleasantly surprised through a set of unique covers, deliciously bluesy guitar work in places and enjoyable original works. Thanks much to them, the crew of the Maze for having us, our audience and every performer to grace the stage.

DIY Poets at the Maze, May 18th 2017

DIY Poets Nottingham Night Light

19 February, 2017 Martin Dean Comments 0 Comment

Reviewed by Sue Allen and Frank McMahon

Moany Mood
DIY poets at Nottingham Night Light was a game of three halves. We’re poets not mathematicians, with a theme of light and dark. The interpretations were free, wide ranging, poetic and creative.

Although the audience was small the atmosphere was large and both increased steadily as the night went on.
John Merchant kicked us off with a contemplation of those times when you fall flat into a “moany mood” in the mist of joy. He expressed his thoughts in rhyme from both a secular and Christian perspective.
Barbara followed with poem by Grace Nicholls about the best of life from a woman’s viewpoint “A woman with all my lines strung out like pearls before me” And what pearls Barbara gave us including the thoughts of Jack Dee “That’s what’s wrong with me, I’m a comedian!” Speaking as a poet I could well relate to that sentiment
Martin explored the philosophical yin and yang of light and dark, giving us an exploration of the concept of future aspirations “next time we’ll get it right.” The importance of supporting a friend when “it’s been a bad time” and the necessity of always having the right glasses even if it is just out of habit.

Hazel led us into the second section festooned with lights, her first offering “Midnight Snack” contemplating such questions as does the light in the fridge really go out when we shut the door, and the way that illumination temps us in. Her contemplation on the safety of darkness made me tingle as she explored the solitude and security that the night can convey. Her final poem about Tim Peak’s dreams of free floating sleep in space and his desire to shun being strapped down. All three; thought provoking and clever interpretations of our theme.

Man Wanted For Casual Market Stall Erection
Sue described herself as an angry feminist poet but there was a lot of humour in her poems as well. She describes how an ad innocently wanted a “man for casual market stall erection.” She described “ladies of the night” with their “enamelled armour” who will “scratch the back of their next opportunity.” Funny and memorable.

Coming Out
John Humphries looked at the fine line between poetry and song writing. He had great fun “coming out” as a fan of country music, and exploring the accidental poetry to be found in listing song titles giving us such gems as “Did I shave my legs for this” and “How can I miss you if you won’t go away?” He went on to treat us all to his own interpretation of the genre with a beautiful piece about love and shared experience worthy of any country ballad.

Frank gave us a soulful series of poems exploring the light and dark of the human condition, ranging from our need for solitude, the frailty of addiction, the resentment of heavenly bodies sharing the same space, and the heartbreak of the Hillsborough disaster and the media reaction.
Leanne finished off this set with two poems looking at friendship and love. In the first: “Night Climbing” she offers us her hands as a step-up, enabling us to “heave your body skywards and watch the stars come out.”
In her second: “Star Struck” she gives us the wonderful line “the patterns in the cosmos match the freckles on your face.” Which I think is the best romantic line I’ve heard in a long time.

DIY Poets Nottingham Night Light — Leanne Moden performing

The third “half” was dedicated to the lovely Kevin Jackson’s book launch and rounded off with a lively open mic.

Reach Through The Entangled Darkness
Kevin’s book “Touching You” is a wonderful expression of love, life, and humanity in all its diversity. He has a light touch which carries your heart along with him. I totally enjoyed his weaving of tales of love, and spiritual connections which crossed the boundaries of time and expectations. He has a way of reaching out with kindness and compassion which holds the listener and the poetic subject gently in his words. In the title poem, he dares us to “reach through the entangled darkness” and reminds us that “the needle only finds music when it remembers.” Long may his music play on as he continues to find his groove of creativity.

DIY Poets Nottingham Night Light

DIY Poets At the Maze 10th November 2016

10 January, 2017 Martin Dean Comments 0 Comment

First half reviewed by John Humphreys:

Slightly disappointing audience numbers were more than made up for by the quality of the poetry on display. Opening with Lytisha who announced she had no politics and miserable poems the first called Anxiety and full of “what ifs”. Last Biscuit had a perfect economy telling of brothers being naughty but always missed. Of the other poems, one set in a library with a ‘chid in a big chair on her own private island’ was sprinkled with magic, a great set, proving misery can also be beauty.
Andrew our host gave us a bad joke so moving on to Kevin wearing a striking mohair protest jumper (sometimes you have to mention the clothes) he graced us with striking imagery in his anti-war poems. Life’s a Memory had its ‘sun starved colour’ while others ‘froze in charcoal’ and White Stretched in Stone had its ‘ceremony of tears’ whilst in Back to it ‘young faces march out to die again’. It is not the necessarily the familiar events that move us but these striking images that linger as new paintings in the mind.
Martin Dean gave a fresh take on Guy Fawkes, appropriately describing him as “the only honest person to enter parliament”. Great images and lines abound again with ‘I’m going to write a fire’ and where ‘November breath hangs like wool in the air’. This was followed by a medical text poem set “within the golden chamber” with the ‘journey of a golden tear’ and ‘tattered skeleton orphan song’, very stirring stuff that highlights Martin’s winning streak with words.
Next up is Gwen A relatively new and very welcome new female voice to DIY who writes of gardening and cutting off stem heads as metaphor for the rituals and intimacies of human relations, then ‘Blowhole’ and the stuck life of her mother in Herne Bay where “you know you’ve been beached”. Then to return to the garden for what Andrew rightly described as a “mesmeric account” of more ritual, revisiting the same characters of her first poem. Hurrah for these refreshing new perspectives from an obviously talented poet.
Then for something completely different with Martin Grey and friend AKA From The Word Go where its all in the hat and a clever, funny checkout riff where the machine has its own voice ‘disapproval needed’ – you had to be there I think I’d need to say at this point. If I say the set had a tale of a kitchen vigilante and another with a washing machine, including the line ‘tumble when its dryer’, you get the sense of the madcap comic antics at play. Definitely a crowd pleaser.
Last but never least in the first half was Claire starting with a favourite of mine in ‘Peace-nick’ with its ‘blossoming anger’, then moving into dreams and nightmares held in the forests of childhood with Terror. Bob Dylan’s misogyny was the flip side to his Noble Prize for Literature for the man with wives and mistresse in ‘the harem of the God’ – ouch! A new one ‘He drove in Silence’ unleashed the difficulty of father / daughter relationships to devastating effect and then more of this with ‘Sisters in Recovery’ hoping and wanting for a sister. As always it’s her slow detailed observance of everyday life that packs such a big punch.
An excellent first half full of quality in all its varied guises and alternative voices from such distinctive and distinguished poets.

Second half reviewed by Kevin Jackson:

John Humphreys started the second half with a bang, confronting the theme of citizen v the state in a heartfelt poem called “Not waving but drowning”. This poem cast a painfully sharp light on the battle for benefits on behalf of his brother summed up in the line “stripped naked in the headlights of the world”.
John followed this with an intensely personal poem called “Invisible”. Built of 3 sections featuring legendary monsters, hawks and rocks the poem conveyed not so much an individual feeling invisible as an entire world slipping out of sight, “almost extinct”, vanishing under “silted layers of time”.
To buy John’s outstanding poetry collection The Day I Swallowed the World, please contact him via DIY Poets.
The next poet was John Merchant. John’s first poem “Mind Existence” begins with the oft-quoted “we are what we eat”, teases out the implications of this idea and ends with the characteristically witty “which sort of turns the mind of its head”.
John concluded with the poem “Health Wealth” which uses the theme of money to focus on our values: “Where your heart is, that’s where you spend”. The poem ends with a direct appeal to individuals and politicians: “Consider us, make it fit”.
Frank McMahon, DIY Poet’s inspiring founder, was the next poet up. Frank took us through a pacy set of short poems, linked through their use of fantastical imagery. “Alcohol”, “Behind the curtain” (using a Wizard of Oz image to explore real friendship), “Spiderman versus Superman” and “The Hulk” (a look at masculinity gone wrong). In “Jack and the Beanstalk” the poet surveys childhood disappointments, concluding wryly: “The beanstalk was all talk”. Transience/aging was the theme of “Elastic Bangle”, (? not sure of title….), told through a collection of once-prized bangles drying out, breaking.
In “Dr Who Childhood” Frank shows a child’s view of parental arguments, including the chilling line: “She may as well have been screaming exterminate, exterminate”
The set ended with “House of Sweets”, a thoughtful look at addiction using the Hansel & Gretel story: “In no time at all there was no road to follow”.
The next poet Trevor Wright began with a topical poem “Ode to Donald”. Using the theme of brick-laying (“tamp it and tamp it until it’s flat”), Trevor revealed the hidden cost of building walls between us: “Bastard wall, encasing our hearts”.
Trevor followed this by reading a powerful poem by Brian Bilston called “America is a Gun”.
The next poem, gloriously titled “Today’s rain becomes tomorrow’s spirit” wove a number of themes including storms and story-writing to encourage communitarian values: “Together we can weather these storms”… (but) “first we have to write ourselves a greater story”.
Stephen Thomas, stalwart of the Leicester poetry scene and co-host of Nottingham’s Poetry’s Dead Good, fired into a wonderfully energetic set with “You’re Awesome”.
A real life-affirming, high-energy poem, “You’re Awesome” reminds us “You were born a champion” and no matter what they throw at us “you’re the best version of you that says thank God I’m alive”.
In “Muddled Man” Stephen takes a sharp look at men who can’t take care of themselves: “You could charge 5p for those bags under your eyes”.
“Alphabet Spaghetti” is a book in progress comprising crisp, highly alliterative poems on each letter of the alphabet. V “Vote Vlad” imagines a vampire seeking our support. T’s “Twitter Troll called Tony” turns out to be 12. Watch this space for news of the book launch!
“For the record” celebrates all things vinyl (a passion of this reviewer), the romance of the record. It does so brilliantly by turning the tables, being written from the turntable’s viewpoint: “Entire cultures of people I’m moving”, ending “For the record, I’m for the record”.
For more of Leicester’s spoken word scene check out House of Verse http://houseofverse.co.uk/
Andrew Martin of DIY Poets was Featured Poet for this night. Opening his set, Andrew shared that “standing on stage you bare your soul” and told us that he wrote his first poem 10 years ago about a soldier killed in Iraq.
“Trump et cetera” launched the set using a children’s song to bring Trump down to size. “Time” developed chain-like to explore the personal and social aspects of time, moving from seasonal change via time travel to industrialisation requiring a standard definition of time. “Food Fight” wittily charts the decline of supermarkets like Tesco “Marmite jars are missing”. “Rhapsody of Realities” looks at those faiths which “mission” by giving out booklets, picturing these as a version of junkmail and warning “There’s no such thing as a free last supper”.
Andrew continued with “Badger Culling Trial” a sober poem viewing the countryside as a courtroom in which the badger is on trial. The poem probes the subject, posing many questions “Is it a black and white situation?” In “Two by two” the poet ranges over many situations where people operate in pairs including police on the beat (perfectly pointed by Andrew sporting what appeared to be a old-style police helmet that actually said Not Polite”). The poem ends darkly looking at prisoners: “Silent sentences throughout each long hour”.
“BHS British Hopes Stalled” takes Philip “Greed” to task with more of Andrew’s trade-mark rhetorical questions: “When did greed become fashionable?” “Mohammed Ali” explores Ali’s long and complex history as a fighter for social justice and the link between fighting and poetry.
“I Daniel Blake” takes its inspiration from the Ken Loach film to remind us of what it should mean to be a citizen.
Andrew rounded off a magnificent headline set with “Poet’s Day”, a survey of workers and working pondering the significance of Friday as the start of a weekend’s rest.
Andrew’s poems are vigorous, democratic not preachy, making statements, asking questions, highlighting patterns to which the listener can react.

Diy Poets at The Maze 31st August 2016

21 September, 2016 Lytisha Tunbridge Comments 0 Comment

Diy Poets report for Gig at the Maze, 31^st August 2016

Written by Lytisha and Clare Stewart.

Our regular evening of three halves began with Andrew Martin doing a sterling job of the nerve wracking role of compering the first half. Our first act was:

Martin Dean:

Martin kicked the evening off in great style. He opened by considering how salad would be, if presented in a modern art style. He Curated Salad, conjuring many tasty images, including watching as ‘Camels criss-cross cous cous dunes’. This great opening poem was followed with a poem he’d written with his wife. She, like many of her generation, had been a typist and practiced the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog. Then Martin took us through several permutations which ranged from the ridiculous to the surreal. In the next poem Martin considered what it would look like to see someone else’s memories tied up in a parcel. Would you unwrap it for a peek? He concluded with a Haiku that asked What do willow herbs think? Much food for thought in our opening act.

Jeff Marshall:

Jeff, as the timer for all the other acts, had the difficult task of timing himself, but he seemed to finish before the need to shine bicycle lights in his own eyes. He read three poems, the first about all the fun of the fair that can be experienced at music festivals. NOT. Mud, toilets, getting lost, rain, snoring strangers, tripping on tentlines, flies, heat and waiting in queues. Mmm, can’t wait. Then a poem about hating shopping with a certain ‘she’ – I guess Jeff’s wife/partner – who apparently loves shopping, or does it quite enthusiastically anyway. As someone who also hates shopping, I can’t help but side with Jeff on this one, but also can’t help wondering why he puts himself through it! And third, an anti-fracking poem. I found this a really interesting poem with some oomph packed in and good poetic force behind the message.

John Merchant:

This was John’s debut at the Maze with Diy Poets. He treated us to a fine set of four poems. The first, Pressures, looked at all the pressures society imposes and how we can recognise and react to them. The Second, Be Careful, explored the ideas of mis-understandings. In Clutterbuck, John looks at timing. And suggests the interlude is ‘not now, later, no later still…’ sounds like me writing to a deadline! On that note, John reminded us all in his final poem that it’s all about Timing. Maybe now ‘is the time to take stock’. Taking stock of John’s inaugural performance, I think we have a lot to look forward to in the future.

Kevin Jackson:

Kevin sported a very fetching stag t-shirt. And gave us a lovely poem about David Bowie, ‘Starman filling us with stars’. Then a very tender portrait of his mum with a refrain that she likes growing orchids, but is not able to do it these days. Uses a great image about the ticking clock that Kevin must have been hearing most of his life being like his own twin, sprung tight. And finally, keeping within the allotted five minutes, Kevin read a beautiful poem that conjured up lots of images of trees and their sap and their roots, that we’re all gifted and have the potential to fly out from the tops of the trees.

Phil Deakin:

Phil introduced his three poems, all of which seemed to have self reflective themes. The first, Anonymous Anemone, makes us consider the anemone, as see its’ spiky behaviour in a more sympathetic light when we remember that although ‘it has no mortal enemy’, it is still lonely as it hides away at night. The second poem was an homage to his home district. Phil dedicated it to all the East Side Massive represented in The Maze. Netherfield, in all its flawed glory was brought to life and the ‘maelstrom of people’ were conjured by Phil’s descriptions. He concluded; ‘perfect it may never be, but Netherfield is my home’. For his final piece, entitled Walking Contradiction, Phil had to translate some street talk for some of us old farts, introducing the concept of ‘fleek’. (I’ll let you discover it for yourself, if you don’t already know). He then went on to tell us about his experience with facial hair fashions and the resultant experience begs the question: facial hair fleek or eek?

Lytisha :

Lytisha was feeling jolly, having just finished her dissertation, and wanting to put it behind her, a little bit, she read older poems that didn’t have anything to do with that work. Lytisha shows us what she sees with her magnifying-glass-vision as she gazes and ponders on the insubstantial, the small, the detail. Curious, quirky, we saw, with the sluggish and detached vision of someone bereaved watching their own hands, how a cloth dries a pot that then gets put away. And then, another poem, how, when looking at moving lights, on closer inspection, it’s not the lights moving but the trees waving about in front of the lights – these tiny misunderstandings that temporarily confuse and blur the mind and contribute to a feeling of general vertigo. She also brilliantly showed us a blank page called Forgetfulness, a poem she’d forgotten to write… And a poem about the Olympics that she hadn’t been able to see for tears of admiration. And then some random-sounding poems, an exercise in first lines, intriguing and surreal.

After a short refreshment break, our second of the three halves was neatly compared by Hazel Warren. The first act she introduced was:

Jamie Thrasivoulou:

Strong rhythm and strong rhyming schemes, and loud, a bit reminiscent of Attila the Stockbroker, as well as our own dear Eagle. Jamie is new to Diy but certainly not new to performing. We were regaled with a poem about police corruption, especially when it comes to dealing with people with mental health problems, and even worse, black people with mental health problems. Then an angry Brexit poem, shouted enviably from memory, again about corruption at the top and pointing out that us down here are generally very humane. Then a poem calling on all us creative souls to lead the fight against prejudice, we have a responsibility, because of our unique ability to communicate, we can, we should unite people.

From the Word Go:

From the Word Go are a performance collective including regular Diyer, Martin Grey, with Julian, freshly returned to Nottingham, and ably assisted by Kira. They gave a us a visually as well as aurally exciting set. We saw: goldfish in a bowl, spinning plates, guns, mirrors, and movement in a opener that got us thinking about who calls the shots. The second piece, which was spoken and accompanied by djembe, saw us ‘battling over that piece of peace of mind,[ …].the rain outside my window, the pain outside my soul’. The metaphor reflecting the turmoil of the mind was engagingly delivered. Great to have Martin back on stage and the team From the Word Go will. I’m sure, have much more to entertain us with.

Richard C Bower:

Richard’s meteoric rise seems unstoppable now as he trips down to London in November. Good luck with that. He found poetry relatively recently and has felt its therapeutic, cathartic muscle. His first poem this evening was about this, of finding poetry on the ocean bed, of how it transforms the poet, it’s a ‘playground for disaffected philosophers’. His next poem, ‘Flying on Shadowless Wings’ about ‘hanging on the edge of reality’ and says that it is possible to turn disaster into something beautiful.

Clare Stewart:

Clare treated us to a trio of tales which were inspired by her time working in a nursing home and reflecting on the changes as we age. Mr Lawson was the eternal optimist, as he waited in vain for his son at the door, coat on ready for the off at a moment’s notice. Then we heard how one lady used her limited language during her slow recovery from a stroke. ‘Okey Cokey, Cokey Cokey’, words that imply an inherent good humour, trapped in a body that had to take time to relearn and recover. Clare’s final poem, Old Man in a Bath again shows the spirit inside. ‘Old man soft’, yet his mind was still dreaming of the sensuous side of life. A delightful trio of portraits, reminding us all of the individuals we all are. And that although our bodies may age, inside we remain the same; and many of us are mischievous kids.

Andrew Martin:

Andrew M, relieved of compering duties in the second half of the evening, read a poem commemorating Ken Barry, creator of Postman Pat. Andrew used the rhythm and sense of the Postman Pat song to tell us about Mr Barry, ‘perhaps a mail sack will serve as a shroud’, and the Last Post will play in mourning. His next poem was about the renewal and the extending of the laws about badger-culling, denouncing the new rulings because it doesn’t help eradicate TB, and it causes suffering to the badgers, the justifications for the cullings is a load of bull – Andrew uses puns throughout his poems, poems often seem to trace his meandering thoughts as he’s on a bike ride or walk. His last poem was a beautiful description of one of my favourite places, the Hope Valley (Oh, why don’t we all live in Hope? Sorry, that’s my own, not Andrew’s…).

John Humphreys:

Aka Jollity John for this evening. John was in a good mood. I know that, because he told us. Buoyed by his recent trip to Edinburgh festival, and not even troubled by forgetting to bring the copies of his book that he would’ve promoted had he had any, John set off on one of his customary rambling introductions that entertained us at length with twists and turns and references to Lady Di Tartan. Eventually embarking on the new poem inspired by an incident that occurred in Edinburgh. John, despite missing the award winning performance that he’d booked, had a special tale of his own. Stewart Lee stole my chair! After examining the miserable expressions on the faces of the comedy glitterati, John concluded by reminding us that ‘poetry is much cheaper than therapy’. I would also add to that, much more entertaining too.

Featured Poet: Eagle Spits:

Eagle, the inexplicable, the anarchic, the punk haired, and the shouty, our featured poet of the evening. Disappointingly, he didn’t wear a kilt, but only wore some trousers with a bit of tartan down the front. Eagle’s been in diy for a couple of years maybe, and we are glad to see him well and back on the scene again after a bit of an absence. Well, has Eagle ever performed a quiet poem? Well, yes. But, generally, it’s hard for a poor reviewer to keep up and my notes have sure got erratic here but thankfully, Rachel thought to film some of his set him and put it up on FB. Go look. Fantastic!

Eagle appeared on the stage first with a little robot that couldn’t stand up straight. His first poem was about being beat up for being a punk…

Eagle pointed out that political poems have a sell-by date as events move on, but read a poem about D Cameron anyway. ‘Hey Mr Cameron, God’s camera is on you, recording all your evil’ and Death will catch up on you, just as he did Faustus.

Poem about corruption at the BBC, and how it doesn’t work for us, or represent us. ‘Freedom of the press is freedom to ignore’.

The one he did last time about the meanness and unfairness of council posters telling people not to give money to homeless people in the street.

A protest song about the refusal or unwillingness to help refugees. Rachel joins in this one with her lovely deep folky voice ‘The poor are my family, my siblings, my kin, Open the borders and let them all in.’

Poem about the enemy being the state.

I was a bit responsible for the next poem, or my rubbish satnav is, aided by an RTC somewhere in Basford, that Eagle wrote whilst waiting for a lift, and I was late. A sweet and hopeful poem, describing the end of all this fascist, moneymaking, bombdropping warring. At the end of our nightmare, we’ll realise our dream – ‘children and kittens and food that is fresh’. A quiet Eagle poem.

Eagle then berated his poor little robot for looking pissed. Leave it alone, yah bully!

Slightly misquoting Philip Larkin, Eagle’s next poem began ‘They fuck you up the Tory cunts’. A general anti-Tory poem.

Another favourite, protesting against the very cowardly drone bombs that murder civilians indiscriminately, in a sanitised way, that means no whites of eyes are ever glimpsed, no hearing of screams, no chance to check you’re even killing the person you meant to kill. Can’t believe it really, who dreams up these things?

‘The first casualty of war is truth.’ Eagle here protesting about state-sanctioned murder and how angry he is. (No kidding.) ‘People are starving, murdered by greed.’

Lastly Chelsea Manning, the US army soldier who leaked films and info to WikiLeaks about the Iraq war in 2013 ‘Like a leper with a candle, I want to feel the pain’, a wanting to feel alive even if it hurts, just so long as it’s open and honest and truthful. And I guess that says it for Eagle, a yearning for peace and compassion but not at the sacrifice of truth.

Finally our third half was the music brought to us this evening by Dog Explosion

Dog Explosion are Oliver, his laptop, and a stuffed dog wearing glasses. Oliver performed a set of his own work, covering a range of topics as diverse as memes, dreams, self delusion and relaxation. He writes and records his own music tracks and accompanies himself by sing over them live.

At times reminiscent of the sound of ‘80’s German band Kraftwerk in his delivery, Oliver regales us with tunes including Talking, Fire Power, and Relax and Enjoy. We explored themes of memes, and when reality is confused with online presence. He also sung of fighting ‘this disease called sleep’, I have to say, as diseases go, that’s my favourite! In Talking a cynical voice tells us ‘I’ll believe in anything, if it gets me what I want..’ as the idea of religion is explored.

Thanks were sent to all involved, the writers and poets, the musical act, Jon for doing a fine job on the sound desk, staff at The maze and the fine audience for joining us. That concluded our Summer gig at The Maze.

A great evening of wordsmithery, with music, juggling, and fairy lights for good measure.

See you all same place, Thursday 10^th November. In the meantime, keep an eye out for more Diy Events.

Lytisha and Clare.

Review – Maze 19th May 2016

20 June, 2016 Martin Dean Comments 0 Comment

Reviewer: Clare Stewart

1st Half

Andrew Martin

The evening kick started with DIY’s very own Andrew Martin and it was a very fine start indeed! Andrew performed his poem “In praise of chalk” which was metaphorically gripping and entrapping and had a fantastic visual story, one mental image which has really stuck with me is that of a sheep counting sheep to sleep. This image sprung into form from a question Andrew asked during his poem “do sheep count sheep whilst trying to sleep?” I personally am still pondering over this question but have accepted that I may not find the answer in this life time. Andrew has only been with DIY for one year but appears to be very comfortable on the stage.

Trevor Wright

Trevor’s a local lad, born in Bulwell, and he wondered how would it have been if Wordsworth had been born in Bulwell too. And so it’s poetry as alternative history as we heard Daffodils Bulwell-style. Contrasting with this, a serious, sad and angry poem about the Hillsborough disaster, inspired by the recent hearing and judgment against the police handling of the event. Trevor powerfully remembers the lies of the authorities and the money-grabbing morals of that decade, and that ‘piss shit and blood not alcohol were the smells of the day’ at Hillsborough.

Jeff Marshall

We had a first time performance from new DIY poet Jeff, which was an absolute honour, Jeff performed Beaches. Before he began his poem he pre-described it for the audience as miserable which some may have found, however I personally thought it was beautiful. “Beaches are for playing not for dying a place where all the scenes are fulfilled” Jeff managed to tip toe into the political murky waters of war very smoothly. Jeff’s second poem “the hardest jobs” which was a true insight to the BBC or ITV… they both appear to be the same! The poem was very comical and brutally honest (unlike the news) and the audience enjoyed it very much “presenting no news on east midlands today” amazing!

Grace Bernard

Grace – who is also one of the Mouthy Poets – gave us a longer poem, miraculously from memory, pondering why we are conditioned to be so horrid to each other, and why we compete with each other so much. We’ve learned to thicken our skins so much, and is it doing any of us any good? And why can’t we just smile at each other a bit more without fear of a smack to the jaw? She says that laughing and smiling is infectious – and free – so please smile back if she smiles at you. Sounds good to me! Her second piece was a passionate love poem You are you are you are…

Martin Dean

Martin Dean performed “Icarus of the Rope” the poem was lovely with handsome imagery and a mesmerising tale which left me wanting to hear more, which is quite impressive as the poem was at least 2-3 minutes long so it must have been good! Martin is a natural charismatic story teller and I look forward to hearing more from him.

Phil Deakin

Phil Deakin told us that he had been to India four years ago but has never written about the experience til now. He gave fantastic detailed description of the assault on the senses on landing in that country, giving us his impressions, picking out things that he saw, the contrast of rich and poor, a cow slowly strolling as though it knew it was holy, a crocodilian river, the sun that still burns in his heart. Phil’s second poem was a comic turn on the name Trump, with many rhymes of that name, which, let’s face it, the name and the man ask for it!! Brilliantly written and executed, mocking the oh-so-deservedly-mockable, this was a poem that needed writing and performing!

Mouthy Poets

At the end of the first, half four of the Mouthy Poets hit the stage to give us a taster of the Nottingham group’s young poets and they were delicious.

Neil

His family’s lungs were made in a petrie dish, says Neil from Mouthy Poets, in a poem about smoking. His second poem was about a special kind of cooking, lots of ingredients including 5 spoons of sarcasm and 5 spoons of awkward that make a nasty and surreal tasting soup. His third poem was about how he loathes boxes, the categories that other people put us in, about his long resistance to being put into boxes, he says he doesn’t want to be special, he just wants to be Neil. Amen to that, Neil! Nice set, surreal and pithy.

Chris McLoughlin

We had “a verbal acrobat” Chris Mcloughlin who told a delightfully moving and relatable story “Side show” about…. His second poem is one of my personal favourites (having heard it before) Pijaykin a pleasant story about a mythical creature called a Pijaykin that lives inside of all of us but “what is a real mythical creature?” good question! Pijaykin has a very positive, inspirational and happy message throughout, Chris is a captivating story teller with his gentle tone he gave a great performance.

Bridie Squires

Bridie gave us a great hardhitting poem about those special little put-downs that cut deep in whilst appearing to be ‘just a joke, love’, with a brilliant riff of ‘Adorable’ repeated til the full patronisingness of it rendered the word meaningless and hollow. Ending with some very unadorable language, Bridie forcefully clears space for her self, and we got the point, Back off, don’t make assumptions and let her be who she wants to be. Her second poem was a frightening, dark tale of something unnameable and the hope that her grandma would know what to do.

Robert van Dongen

The last of the Mouthy Poets to perform was Robert van Dongen he started with a personalised rendition of a song by the band Muse which definitely got the audience’s attention! Robert then executed his poem “Don’t Jinx it “which had a lovely fun rhythm to it, poetry/ lyrics at their best. To finish off Robert performed “Poem about poets” which was exactly that, a poem about poets! I thought it was a great concept that I personally have not heard explored before and he did it very well, one line that stuck with me was “why don’t you write a poem about me? Because you don’t inspire me” I can relate to that question.

2^nd Half

Frank McMahon

Frank took to the stage, starting with a direct, uncompromising opener about the Hillsborough disaster entitled “They Shun the Sun”. In his characteristic understated style he then revealed his sly affection for his hometown Wolverhampton with a rebuttal to the Lonely Planet who had the cheek to name it the 5^th worst city in the world, without even visiting it. Frank excels at changing our views of the everyday and read a poem giving a dig at typical male friendships where talking about emotions is taboo and men restrict their conversation to DIY. He ended with odes to two under-rated colours: white and brown; the “least loved of all colours”, defending their virtues in pithy prose.

Orla Shortall

Or Sparklechops as she is also known, the only belly-dancing poet I know. After giving a much-needed plug for plug sockets, Orla read a poem about the draw of self destruction when things are going wrong – “self destruction is all fun and games until someone gets hurt”, about the adrenalin-urge to mess everything up even more and get yourself another helping of disaster. Her second poem was about her relationship with the sea, with that classic Orla line, “I like my seamen like I like my semen, salty”. A sort of love poem to life and the sea.

Andy Szpuk

Andy treated the audience to an extract from his show Austerity Café, which he described as political verse, fractured melodies and satire joined together in an experimental mash up. He recited the musical beat-poet-esque “We’re Still Good at Making Guns”, exploring Britain’s industrial heritage and modern political hypocrisy. He then launched his paper plane fleet Poetry Airlines across the room, sending people ducking and weaving to get hold of promotional paper planes for his upcoming show.

Eagle Spits

Eagle, our resident angry punk poet, pulled us in with an old favourite, Atos Death Squad, with the amusing idea that he should just take that job as a lorry driver they’re insisting he do and, with his poor eyesight, ‘accidentally’ drive into the House of Commons. That’d do it! His next poem expressed his anger at the meanness of the posters the council have put up asking us not to give money to homeless people, cos they’ll only get blathered if you do that, so give to the charities instead. Eagle’s instinct would always be to react to the human in front of you, Eagle’s raison d’être – be kind. His third piece was a sweet and loving poem about his dad. And fourth, another old chestnut about the aborting of a foetus because it has Down’s Syndrome. As ever, Eagle was gentle and terrifying, principled, irreverent, rebellious.

Clare Stewart

Clare ascended the stage with a short powerful portrait of writing as torture, when one has to make a living from it. She then explored her own writer’s block in a poem full of word play and humour, twisting a block into inspiration. She finished with two personal portraits, one of her father, and one of a woman she encountered while working in a nursing home, the repetition of the only phrase the woman would say “hokey cokey” creating a vivid picture of this woman which was both funny and touching.

John Humphreys

Next up, the fantastic John Humphreys. He curtailed his long intros this evening, which was a shame, but we had a lot of poets on the bill this time – arguably, John is as much an introducer of poems as a poet… John is in the idiosyncratic process of taking quotes from a film – ‘Youth’ recently released, with Michael Caine, Harvey Keitel and Rachel Weisz – and making poems from them. Not really connected with the actual film, just using the quotes themselves as springboards for the poems. In this case, the quotes were ‘Emotions are all we’ve got’ and ‘The last great idyll of our lives’. Delivered in John’s wonderful microphone style, and I think, still in the wake of his fiftieth birthday, he brings you in to the world of the poem, and the world of his mind.

Lytisha

Lytisha Tunbridge read a detailed study of a person’s illness and decline, opening up their world of trying to adjust to changes and life as it now was. The poem ended on a compassionate note of care and empathy. She delighted the audience with tales of the everyday, a predictive text mishap, a meandering bus, rich with meaning, humour and pathos.

Rachel Eagling

Rachel read a touching poem about that rhythm that many of us have heard or felt in the middle of the night when sharing a bed, and expanded that experience out to all who have ever shared a bed, a mattress, a lilo, a floor, and she took a wide overview of life as it is lived. She also gave us a poem about her dad (minor theme of the evening), about how practical and hardworking he was, and how she tries to be like him in putting ethics into action. (I’ve seen a film of Rachel reciting this poem in a graveyard, it’s really good, prob on FB.) And then a very long poem (went over the 4 minutes there, Rachel) about visiting a friend in prison. She told us the small details of the visit and her observations. As ever, Rachel sums up the sad and the funny and the touching.

Hazel Warren

The looked-forward-to-by-all headline act Hazel Warren read up a storm with her gentle, powerful, sensual poems that get under your skin and stay there. Listening to Hazel read is like mainlining honesty in its rawest, sweetest form. Hazel read poems “Pompeii”, “20 Years” and “The moon is full of sorrow” about relationships, longing and unspoken rules. Poems “This place is ours” and “You shouldn’t be able to touch your insides” which she called “the nostalgia section” dealt with childhood and the past, real emotions remembered and reconstructed. “Chocolate bunny” was a slyly sensuous paean about temptation and… chocolate. “A dancer dies twice” captured the sorrows in a dancer’s always finite vocation. “Brew love” was a witty and honest portrayal of negotiating the beginning of a relationship. She ended to wildly enthusiastic applause with “Cycling proficiency”, a faux melodramatic piss take of all those who believe poetry should remain an elite sport. The word “amateur” she pointed out means “for the love of it” and the audience loved it.

3^rd Half

Paul Carbuncle

The folk punk one man electrical storm Paul Carbuncle ended the night with ferocious, melodic ballads about Robin Hood, squirrels, police brutality and corruption, racism and the political activist Tom Paine, among other subjects. He filled the room with energy and rhythm, making it difficult not to clap, tap, nod, sway or dance in time and generally become part of the whole experience.

End Of Review – Maze 19th May 2016

We await the next DIY event on the 30^th June at Rough Trade on Broad Street with salivating ears.

DIY Poets At Southwell Festival

13 June, 2016 Martin Dean Comments 0 Comment

A Weekend Of Poetry

Last weekend your very own DIY poets were invited to bring their brand of poetry to The Gate To Southwell Festival. Starting on Saturday festival-goers were treated to a two hour showcase of their talents with honorary member Shaun Moore joining them from Glasgow. The subject matter was wide ranging, swinging from the hiding place of Charles I to the search for Earth-like planets, from dancing to pubic hair.

Sunday – another day and another delight. A damp and mud-splattered crowd flocked to The New Stage to be treated to the Southwell festival’s first ever poetry slam, where audience members were asked to vote for their favourite act. The accolade of ‘Bard of Southwell’ eventually went to Hazel Monaghan with a veritable tour-de-force. Congratulations to Hazel, but also to everyone else who shared their work (including Andy Szpuk with his creative use of ‘The Hendrix Technique’). Judging by the audience reaction the event was a great success.

The Poets

MC Leanne Moden — Our MC And Organiser Leanne Moden

DIY Poet Richard C. Bower — Richard C. Bower

DIY Poet Lytisha Tunbridge — Lytisha Tunbridge

DIY Poets at The Maze 12.11.15

8 December, 2015 Andy Szpuk

Reviewed by Martin Grey and Lytisha

John Humphreys, acting as our MC, introduced the evening reminding us all that the fabulous DIY poets group has been around for in excess of 10 years now. He also reminded the audience of our tag line: We are nice and we don’t always rhyme before introducing Leanne.

Leanne Moden has not been in Nottingham long, but is certainly making her mark on the poetry scene. She began with a poem taking us back with her through teenage memories of a gig in Brixton where she’ll never forget the burst capillaries on the bass players face which is as up-close and personal as a fan gets. Not quite as close as the close call the questioner that was on the receiving end of Leanne’s well thought out arguments about Lady Gardens almost had! Ever questioning social attitudes, Leanne’s poems encourage you to think whilst you laugh along.

Martin Dean was up next. He took us on a trip through Rome, where he encountered foul smelling strangers and noted that chaos was a word the Italians invented. Possibly not Martin’s dream holiday? It wasn’t all negative, there was a pppositively pppleasant pppoem with plenty of alliteration to push people along. A good set that took us around Europe.

Next up Isis made her debut on the diy stage with a great set including her own tribute to Lear in the form of a nonsense poem as well as a couple of others leaving us all enraptured by (her) charm. We look forward to hearing a lot more from our new star.

Following our newest performer was one of our more seasoned stars, Clare Stewart who put out an urgent call for the mister or missus scientister out there to come up with a cure for her blister which was curtailing her kissing. She also got us wondering what those pristine swimmers that don’t wet their hair get up to while some of us piss about with poems and paintings. As ever an entertaining set.

Andy Szpuk was next. After unwinding the mic, a little trick he is working on, he raged against the injustices around, including the spiking of the capital to stop homeless people sleeping in conspicuous places. In a tongue in cheek change of tack Andy then performed a poem for Daily Mail readers entitled Benefit Scroungers. Then to the delight of the audience Andy treated us to a sneak preview of his Musical in progress by singing We’re good at making guns to the accompaniment of detonators being ‘clicked’ by the audience members’ fingers. Plenty of food for thought.

Martin Grey changed the tone completely and we all loved his lovely poem about love and how lovely love is. He then went on to disclose his precocious childhood through his piece about counting on his hands at school. Although I have to say I agree with Martin and not the teacher… but maybe that says more of my attitude to authority figures that are not getting it right… Martin concluded his set, which he delivers with an almost snake like mesmerising charm, with a moving piece about missing people.

Leading us into the first break was Trevor Wright. He told us of the dim glow under the door indicating the presence of his offspring, whereas in very recent times it had been seeing the area beneath the tree a Teddy haven or a fairy ring, or kicking every last leaf in the world depending on how the imagination was moving. They do grow up so fast! Trevor concluded his set with Yella! one of the poems included in the with local anthology produced by Five Leaves Press about the refugee crisis. Does anyone tune into the stars?

After a ten minute break for more crowd loosening beverages, Orla Shortall, or Sparklechops as she claimed she’d been called, got the second half underway. A warm delivery of charm over strong messages is quite a forte of hers and tonight was no different, her journey from John Donne’s The Flea to the sometimes awkward mornings after sex, via the DH Lawerence Heritage Centre definitely kicking off the second half with a bang.

Being stuck in things you can’t control was the theme of our next poet, Lytitia Tunbridge, who regaled us with stories of how it gets harder to buy bras as you get older, how we never look up from our gadgets and the concern you feel when your bath is at risk of falling through your ceiling. She finished with “Beyond Control”, likening our journey through life to being off balance on a see saw. A set delivered with punch and vigour, full of struggles we can all relate to, except for maybe the bra buying.

Lytitia, Orla and Clare will be headlining our event at The Lofthouse on 24^th November, the only event in the Nottingham Poetry Festival to feature female headliners, so power to us!

Next up was Andrew Martin, aka the world’s nicest man, who filled his five minutes with an A to Z of the politics of land use and how our rights to use it are being eroded by the interests of the powerful and the wealthy, set inside Chatsworth and Oxfordshire. A nicely textured, softly delivered set that challenged the politics of class and the notion that the grass is always greener.

Continuing the textured tones, Richard Bower then filled our souls with a trilogy of emotions. “Morning” showed us the hope from touching nature on a brand new day, “Nightfall” showed us the storms in the fragile darkness of endings, while “Skin to Skin” reminded us that it’s ok to articulate the dreams you have. The straight talking beauty of Richard’s words couldn’t fail to take you into your own emotional highs and lows.

Next up was the Breath on Paper, Phil Deakin, who took us back to our childhoods with “The Ghost of Yesterday”, which told of how easy it is to become invisible by using his time in school with the nickname ‘Ghosty’. He then charged his phone for all the time it has stolen, the friendships it stopped him finding and the people it stopped him meeting. The irony of using technology to spread his was not lost on him as we all took heed of his valuable words. Phil is most definitely a man with a lot to say.

The plentifulness of the poets was partly down to our next performer, The Cat in the Hat, our leader, Frank McMahon, who was having a rare night off the compering. Ever a fan of the short poem, Frank wistfully took on the Beatles, strong villains and fragile heroes, from John Lennon not believing he could sing in the shower to Liverpool, not Hemel Hempstead being the home of rock and roll, via the denim and leather days of his youth and the worlds apart between Steve Davis and his “First Hero” Alex Higgins. He finished with “From Green to Black”, about how his Dad swapped the green of Ireland for the black of Wolverhampton. Once again, a century break performance.

Frank led straight into our most excellent compere, John Humphreys, who of course plugged his book launch/50^th birthday party, but only because you should all come to his night and buy a copy. John is a musical encyclopedia and his latest piece was about Lee Hazlewood, who very few of us had heard of, but we’re told was a highly influential 1950s American artist whose words and melodies helped define popular music. With deep, slow, warbling tones, John took us through his tribute to the man, not only giving a fine performance but also educating us in the process.

Our final pre headline poet was an impromptu set by Hazel Warren, because, well, we like to include everyone if we can, and she certainly didn’t disappoint with two excellent pieces. “Jumpers for Goal Posts” challenged the gender expectations of boys and girls, while “Brew Love” masterfully cut through the struggle to open your heart after being hurt, with the thoughts that can go through your head when making a cuppa for someone you think you might grow to like. Humble yet warm, it was a teariffic way to end the second half.

After a quick refill, it was time for our headliner, Chris Page, the Dark Lord, who really rose to the occasion. Chris marvellously manifested his misery with a glint in his eye and a smirk in his stanzas, the 20 minutes flying by before you felt they’d barely begun. With a haiku that smiled through your pain, to stories of self destruction caused by untied shoelaces that told you that the bad will always pass, we were sent into the darkest nursery rhymes that we’ve heard for a long time. Certainly, that was a teddy bears picnic I’m glad I missed! Two dark Christmas poems followed, which beat the Christmas lights with the mid November Christmas spirit, before “Twelve Nights” which deconstructed and rewrote the twelve days of Christmas into something much more relevant to the problems we face today. He finished with a letter to the child he doesn’t have yet, telling them, and us, in heartfelt details, about some bad experiences of his own, while inspiring us to want to do as well as we can should we ever get the chance to give the gift of life. Every clap and cheer was more than justified, it was a superb set.

The night ended with acoustic vibes from Stacey McMullen, who has more musical talent in his metatarsal alone than most of us have in our entire bodies. “Lines in the Sand” showed the stark plight of war refugees, while “Woke Up this Morning” reminded us that the blues was alive and well. There was even some acoustic “Killing in the Name of” thrown in for good measure, before finishing up with a fitting singalong to“54-46 (That’s My Number)”. Stacey’s effortless flipping from blues to jazz to funk to reggae certainly finished the night off in style.

So, there we have it, another great night with the DIY Poets. That is indeed what we said now. Once again, we were nice and we didn’t always rhyme. Hope to see you in February!

DIY POETS’ Splendid Day Out

21 July, 2015 Andy Szpuk

Write up by Lytisha:

On Saturday 18^th July, DIY Poets shared the bill with James, The Specials and Bananarama, amongst others. We took to the stage at Splendour Festival, Wollaton Park. Okay, not the main stage, but we let Roots Manuva use that to warm our audience up.

Andy Szpuk introduced the set on the Fringe stage and we found the audience to be in fine voice through a bit of call and response audience participation. Next, Clare Stewart took everyone on an exhausting and squelchy walk through Scottish heather, heather, heather before leaving us to relax with a smooth whisky. Music was the theme of Frank McMahon’s trio of poems. It wasn’t all about the bass, ‘bout the bass, but also exploring the reactions to guardian angels in leather and denim as well as comments on Johnny Cash’s sartorial choices.

Next was Lytisha with her poems looking at relationships, both with people and food stuffs. John Humphreys embarked on an uncharacteristically short introduction, (he even kept within the allocated time slot and didn’t even need the ting of enlightenment!) to his poem celebrating all things Ska.

Trevor Wright took us into the home straight with cautionary tale of the migrating pink toed tarantula. Finally Captain Andy Szpuk was back and not only was Poetry Airlines literally launched containing poems from the Flight Attendants Richard C Bower, Hazel Warren, Chris Page and other DIY Poets, but the Best of DIY Poets book was launched too, and managed some chunky sales.

A great day all around and a fabulous audience.

DIY Poets would like to thank DHP for booking us and providing a super stage and sound man. Thanks too to Keith Turner for the photos and video.

If you missed it you can catch us and get your copies of Best of DIY Poets at The Maze on Thursday 13^th August from 8pm.

11018374_1026863840687586_478294994660531431_n — Trevor Wright

Richard C Bower and Hazel Warren (Photo by Keith Turner)

Andy Szpuk, launching Poetry Airlines (photo by Keith Turner)

DIY POETS Quarterly Gig Report – 14th August 2014

18 August, 2014 Andy Szpuk

Eagle Spits reports:

After brief introductions from Frank McMahon, founder of DIY poets, Poeticus Autisticus (AKA Trevor Wright) took the stage to deliver a finely tuned set with sharp wordage about subjects as diverse as time travel and drones. Often the political nature of some poets limit their vocabulary which reduces their work to propaganda as opposed to art. This is not the case with Poeticus who speaks the truth articulately and the message is delivered, well crafted and poignant.

Orla Shortall is a fine Irish lass who delivered a set of twisted love poetry in a broad accent. From women who are difficult to love to men who are difficult to love, with Victor Hugo references, golden chalices and magic mushrooms. A woman scorned with cutting wit. As Olga repeated the lines: “if you want to leave then leave”, nobody did because they were mesmerised. One of the poems was even written that afternoon at 2pm whilst in “the office” , ooooppps, never mind anything can be forgiven when poetry is this good.

Next we have the first poetry performance virginity loss of the evening, and how! Claire Louise stammered and stuttered, twitched and rocked as she delivered a poem about mania from a first person perspective. There was nothing wrong with the delivery. It was perfect for the subject matter and her movements were in all the right places. I will probably say awesome more than once in this review but that’s because it was the evening it was. “It will pass, it will pass, it will crash”. Claire Louise was awesome, brave, honest and awesome.

Beer and fag break, quick introduction, then Marty Everett. The smooth operator of the evening. Slick in a Bill Hicks kind of way with clever, truthful verse ,about the education system. About how in real life “failure is an option” and yes our children are being sold out. “don’t build statues of the thinking man, be the thinking man”. Marty’s “dragon dances” and we were moved.

The picture on tonight’s poster was of Dylan Thomas, our next poet’s hero. So John Humphries did a trio of related poems. The first being a rendition of Simply Red’s “Money;s Too Tight to Mention” (someone had pointed out the picture on the poster actually looked liked Mick Hucknall) in a posh BBC Dylan Thomas voice. Surreal. Next a rendition of a Dylan Thomas poem performed in a posh BBC Dylan Thomas accent. Surreal. Then a sonnet to Dylan Thomas performed in a posh BBC Dylan Thomas accent. Surreal. John Humphries was brilliant in his off kilter genius. Spot on, in a posh BBC Dylan Thomas accent.

Clare Stewart talks about dreams and red shoe minds. Reflections of Splendour at Woolerton Part. Empathic versifications on deafness. Hard metal and cut down trees. Life , death, compassion of an ethereal kind. Clare is in her poetry, invested and absolute. A set of quality verse gently spoken but scary nonetheless.

Frank McMahon donned with smart attire and pork pie hat verbalizes about not being concerned these days that he has lost his Morrisey quiff. Versed about biker friends who were more guardian angels than hell’s angels. Told rhythmic tales about navvies, football, Hurricane Higgins and a heart breaking poem full of Dr Who Imagery which finds Frank as a child hiding behind the sofa but not from Daleks but from his parents’ arguments. Totally eclectic in subject matter. Totally wondrous in verse.

A poet called Julian recited a poem about the loneliness and isolation of being a cyclist. The dangers of bad roads, careless drivers and total lack of respect cyclists receive from other road users, even pedestrians. The feelings of being despised and abused by bus drivers and drunk blokes on a night out. The poem was long but sharp. Attention keeping and angry. The props of bicycle and bell were incorporated. The tale was told, the message given and poetry of a high quality performed. It rang my bell.

Martin Grey was the headline poet of the evening. I first saw Martin several months ago and he was good. A young poet just starting out. Tonight he was fucking brilliant. One of the best poetry performance I have ever seen. Political in “All the bullets and all the bombs” in which shrapnel hits a young man in his head and he wonders if his mother is alive or dead. There was humour in his “Bread” poem, with tacky chat up lines based round puns about bread, I kid you not. His set had everything, heart break, anger, humour, “The Pretty Boys of G town” is a look back at his teenage years in Guilford and how history has a habit of repeating itself. It reminded me of a poetical version of Pete Seegers “Little Boxes” but with alcohol and chavs. Like I say, fucking brilliant.

Pegefo was the musician for the evening. Sweet, sweet music along the lines of Richard Thompson. One man, one acoustic guitar and a handful of beautiful songs. Unhinged love songs, ode to his mother. A lust for life conducted with serenity. “You think your something special do you”, a love song to the latest flame is one of those love songs which makes this old punk unashamed to like love songs. “not my bag” Pegefo introduced as an atheist anthem. I wonder if he felt the supernal nature of the music he plays. There was darkness, yet hope and encouragement running through his set. He even read a poem he wrote a few years ago. The second poetry virginity to be lost this evening.

Overall a great evening. The kind of evening one expects from DIY Poets. See you next time. (Eagle Spits).