‘Still 23’ live #spokenword at Panjenix Acoustic Club

Here’s my performance of an old favourite, Still 23, at Panjenix Acoustic Club, Forts Arms, Clayton le Moors on 24 October 2018.

©️Janey Colbourne 2018

Read my poem in the original post here


 

Advertisements

On the mental health of a poet

Sometimes friends wonder if I’m ok, when I publish my poetry. Some of it is pretty damn angry, or tackling difficult subjects. Those who don’t know me personally might think I’m an angry kind of person, or an emotional wreck. Nothing could be further from the truth. I’m no more a mess than a singer that can sing a heart wrenching song and then grin at the audience and sing a happy song. I’m actually a very optimistic and joyful person. I laugh a lot, even when life is a struggle. Yes I’ve been through a lot, but I’m ok. I guess people may be shocked at some of the things I say, and the realisation that I have been through a lot of those things myself. To anyone who is worried about my mental health, don’t be. My poetry is often based on my own life but I might algamate different experiences, my own or those of people I’ve met. It’s all based on things I’ve experienced or witnessed, sometimes based on events in the news or popular culture. One thing you don’t need to do is worry about me. It’s not a cry for help. Cathartic certainly. But by the time a poem is written and performed I’m in a place of strength. Even when I’m raging I’m having fun. Performance poetry is just that, a performance. The feelings are real and sincere, but I can tune into them, and then let them go. I feel them when I write, and the process of writing them is cathartic. Then I access them when I perform. It’s actually transformative, and a total buzz. Writers and actors are sensitive, we can feel things very deeply, and open up those feelings on demand, but if we were lost in them, and not in control, we wouldn’t be able to do our jobs. Poems that are too personally raw and painful, I ain’t performing them. I’ve never actually felt more strong, happy or empowered. To the bastards that hurt me. You can’t touch me anymore. Everything you’ve done to me, I transformed it into poetry. I made my vulnerability my power. Fuck you.

I hope it helps other too, to have your pain acknowledged. Connection is my main intention in my work. Solidarity. 

©️Janey Colbourne 2018

Time’s Up #spokenword on the patriarchy and the planet

Time’s Up 

Is it coincidence
that at the end stage of the patriarchy
we see the extent of the abuse and rape of women exposed 
alongside the rape of the planet?
As the Earth is pillaged and torn,
all living beings regarded as resources or collateral,
woman is shorn,
time and again, of her dignity, stripped bare,
in the final days of the patriarchy.
She stands to say her piece
and even that courageous act,
dissected with disdain,
under the glare of gaslight, becomes a weapon
in the hands of those who seek to keep her silent,
severing the mother’s lips
to ram them down her own throat,
until she chokes with shame,
as judge and jury re-enact her violation.
Generations whipped with Adam’s rib,
bleeding out before their eyes,
as words of law enforced
become more real and worthy
than the soil beneath our feet,
more real than blood is ink,
as letters of appropriation slam with doom
upon the very wombs
of those who gave them life,
upon the very hand that holds us,
branding condemnation,
blazing words in toxic oil
to tear the very skin,
in suicidal matricide,
the blessed earth that births,
the only thing that keeps us
from oblivion.

©️Janey Colbourne 2018

 

Plasticiser: a poem on plastic poo and other delights

PLASTICISER

there’s plastic in the landfill
plastic in the seas
plastic flowers and robot bees
artificial christmas trees
plastic in our food and drink
plasticisers in the milk
plastic plates and plastic spoons
microplastics in our poo
plastic filling up our view
plastic clothes and plastic bricks
I suppose there must be plastic sick
plastic piling up so thick
in chunks and also finely ground
bound into the very soil
nations fight to control the oil
watch the human race fall from grace
as the media smiles with a plastic face
this plastic case may be our doom
enclosing life in a plastic tomb
or we could plasticise our minds
and find a way to harmonise
wrap up this plastic wrap debate
abate our use take action now
delaminate our daily lives
divert our planetary fate
before it is too late

©️Janey Colbourne 2018

Textual Intercourse

Textual Intercourse

You open up a well of words in me
Enrich my vocabulary
You touch me with your text
Turn me on with your
Delightful discourse
I want to dive into your dictionary
Dance across your pages
With my eyes
Devour you
Read between your lines

Tell me your story
Whisper words into my ear
You are such a page turner
I want to read you in bed all night
This steamy romance novel
Is so hot I don’t want to stop
Let’s keep writing sequels
For I want this in so many parts
It will never end

©️Janey Colbourne 2018

Glastonbury 1997. Don’t go there. #spokenword

Glastonbury festival 1997 was the muddiest year on record until 2016. You don’t want to go there. Really you don’t. Especially not with a certain daft young woman. Unless you’re game for a laugh.

However, you might want to go to Panjenix Acoustic Club on a Wednesday evening at The Forts Arms, Clayton-le-Moors, Lancashire, for a warm welcome and a spot on the open mic, if that is your kind of thing.

Performance recorded 24 October 2018, PAC, Forts Arms

©️Janey Colbourne 2018

Redundancy Notice

Redundancy Notice

I’m sorry to inform you,
your services are no longer required.
The news is now so farcical,
you hardly stand out from the crowd.
We do a double take each day,
then shake our heads and say,
‘I thought this was a joke at first.’
So satire, I must let you know
that, with regret, and thanks of course,
we’ll have to let you go.

©️Janey Colbourne 2018