Excerpts from the latest issue of RISING

Hot off the photocopier next week, the new issue of RISING looks, as always, like a good un, top quality writing from top quality witers that doesn't cost you anything...it's got to make you wonder what organisations with Arts Funding actually do with the money...


...and so SHORTFUSE brings you excerpts just to quench your poetry thirst...the first is Tim Well's review of the poetry goings on @ the Edinburgh Festival, and the second are a couple of poems by RISING regular Tod Moore...


Twinkle Twinkle… Edinburgh Festival 2003 


by Tim Wells 

The last few years has seen more and more poetry making its way to the Edinburgh Fringe. This year saw more than ever and some of it was even worth seeing. The London venues were well represented, as were boy band out of towners Aisle 16 and a fair smattering of Scottish talent.


The biggest show was the USAs Def Poetry Jam, although why this wasn’t called Def Poetry Jelly remains unanswered despite us asking many of their promotions people. Whilst the Deffers had the publicity their show still revolved around middle-class American liberalism and the victim culture that US academia pushes. Little of this is relevant to us. The show was the uninspired tosh that you’d expect on a pony ‘all-inclusive’ septic TV show with ‘kewl’ teenagers screened on a Saturday morning. What’s wrong with ‘The Flashing Blade’ say I?


Big Word has moved to Scotland in the past couple of years. The audience was doubly lucky as Big Word’s martinet, Jem Rolls, was in Canada throughout their Festival shows. This left us with the top drawer Rob Gee running things. A fine job he did too. Rob is a dynamic performer with engaging poems. All this in a poetry show, what is he thinking off? Big Word also showcased Glasgow poet Jenny Lindsay (featured in this issue) who was well worth the trip from London. Jenny is one of those poets that make all those tedious sittings through poetry readings and open mikes worthwhile, once in a while a poet really shines and manna falls. Jenny is still a slip of a thing and hopefully she’ll be reading around the country. In our last issue Tim Turnbull commented that the Scottish poets ‘have this strange idea that poetry should be entertaining.’ Jenny lays this down in spades. Big Word also showcased Australia’s Tug Dumbly who kept the cocktail Big Word was mixing a strong one with a dirty name.


Tim Turnbull read with Express Excess for the opening week and was as inspired as ever. Tim now lives in Scotland and London is sorely missing him. Tim was his usual dour self, all prickled with humour. Mark Gwynne Jones also read, the last couple of years have seen Mark develop phenomenally as a writer and performer. If Keats wrote the script, someone slipped the cast of Emmerdale acid and the result was filmed then you’d be getting close. Francesca Beard was third poet in the Ex Ex line up. Her work has been getting to more of a discussion over the last year. This pulls an audience in and Francesca then takes the resulting thoughts on a spiralling journey to wherever they may end up. Francesca opened by asking everyone there a question. This was too much for one genteel soul, when asked if she’d ever pissed in the ocean, she stormed out shouting ‘None of your blooming business!’ Now that’s what we want in poetry! Honest emotion, poetry slammers take note. Paul Lyalls replaced Turnbull for the remaining weeks and was his usual pineapple self, spiky but sweet.


Jude Simpson was also reading, but sadly this was just a bunch of words that made the shape of a poem. Twee simperings sadly do a poem make, but not one we’ll give any respect to here. Tut Tut Miss Simpson, indeed. Her strangely proportioned picture on her flier made for much merriment however.


Despite their massive amount of funding Apples and Snakes decided not to showcase poetry at Britain’s largest arts festival, again, whilst Shortfuse managed to do 2 shows. Nathan Penlington found the rhymes in poetry and debauchery both on and off stage. Bette O’Callaghan did all those things she does, and Dean Wilson explored the anatomy of the Festival more than most. They did a week in a lift. This was an actual lift set up in the Pleasance Courtyard. Sadly it didn’t go up and down, but a dozen people were trapped in there with the 3 poets for a whole half an hour. Too close for comfort for some, not close enough for Nathan.


Whilst the Festival remains Planet of the Apes for drama students, comedy is losing it’s dead mans grasp and it’s good to see poetry there, so much of it good too! The papers still don’t know how to feature it. All too often poetry ends up in the comedy section for want of pigeonhole. It’s this simple, the difference between comedy and poetry is that we’re all going to die.


 







sonny & i


waited til the


railroad dick


got close to


the high


weeds before


we cut loose


w/a quick


rock barrage


that caught


the fucker


w/2 in the


head even


w/dirt in his


eyes he had


his gun out


& put 3 past


my face


when i look


over & sonny


is whipping


his cock


like he’s a


real pisto


lero yells


hey mofo


try shooting


this then


we’re roll


ing under a


slow moving


freight


(tod moore)


 







jake stopped


walking &


leaned on a


parking meter


when he got


to the blue


neon that


read cold


beer he was


breathing


hard & try


ing not to


fall down


the neon


was making


the holes


in his stones


shirt dark


he tried


hailing a


cab but


cdn’t lift


his right


arm it was


just another


piece of


meat w/some


bone inside


then blood


was coming


out of mick


jaggers tongue


(tod moore)
4.9.03 10:53
 


To date 1 Comment(s)     TrackBack-URL


Dennis Landi / Website (12.8.04 00:44)
 If this is the Tod Moore from Armidale.
Give me a shout!

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