Monday, 30 January 2012

my father moved through dooms of love by e.e. cummings

my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm

newly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots

and should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.

Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead he called the moon
singing desire into begin

joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice

keen as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely)stood my father's dream

his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.

Scorning the pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain

septembering arms of year extend
less humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is

proudly and(by octobering flame
beckoned)as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark

his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he'd laugh and build a world with snow.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)

then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug that's bought and sold

giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am

though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath

and nothing quite so least as truth
—i say though hate were why man breathe—
because my father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all

More at The Compendium website.

Friday, 27 January 2012

The Shirehorses: Why is it Always Dairylea?

Mark and Lard's parody band The Shirehorses may be a hazy memory now, perhaps due to the fact that most of their songs were based on Britpop tunes that most people have either forgotten or not even heard of. (Remember The Seahorses?)

Still, you'd have to have lived a pretty sheltered life musically-speaking if you've never heard "Why Does it Always Rain on Me?" by Travis which forms the basis of this masterpiece.

(This is a recording from Mark and Lard's final show for Radio 1.)

Monday, 23 January 2012

John Hegley

Is John Hegley a genius?

Well, that's up to you, isn't it?

All I'm going to say is that it's almost impossible to be a comedian a musician and a poet and succeed at all three at the same time. John Hegley's been consistently doing it for years, and I can't think of anyone else who has.

Thursday, 19 January 2012

Conspiracy Theory Rock

This classic was removed from You Tube by NBC who cited "copyright issues". Never mind, it's available elsewhere (at least until NBC get their hands on it). Apparently this was aired once on US TV, but was never shown again. I wonder why.

Conspiracy Theory Rock |

Friday, 13 January 2012

Tokyo Girls in Science Fiction by Kyle Hemmings

Pleased to see the appearance of this free ebook by Kyle Hemmings, published by Nap Magazine - top quality flash fiction.

Read it here:


Wednesday, 11 January 2012

Six Word Stories

This is from 2006 but I've only just discovered it so apologies for being 6 years late.

That Hemmingway bloke's got a lot to answer for. Forgive the sweeping generalisation, but usually six-word stories don't work at all (I guess because they're the lazy writer's form of choice), but there are some very big names featured in this article, some of whom have created mini-masterpieces.

Very Short Stories (Wired Magazine).

Monday, 9 January 2012

You're an Animal, Viskovitz!, by Alessandro Boffa - a one word review

Forgive my the inarticulate nature of this post, but here's my one word review of You're an Animal, Viskovitz! by Alessandro Boffa:


I'll admit 17 exclamation marks don't strictly constitute a word, but this most accurately sums up my reaction to this book. I'm a sucker for non-human narrators in serious literature, so this series of anthropomorphic tales hooked me before I'd started reading. (You may have gathered I'm a sucker for wacky titles too.) I use the term 'serious literature' despite the fact that it's described as 'comic' on the cover. For all its laugh-out-loud moments, Boffa's book is thoughtful, philosophical and pretty mind-blowing, hence my '!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'.

More information here.

Tuesday, 3 January 2012

The Raw Shark Texts by Steven Hall - a one word review

My one word review of Steven Hall's The Raw Shark Texts is as follows:


I mean that in the nicest possible way. This book is sillier than any of Dan Brown's, and that's saying something. But it's not silly in the Monty Python sense of the word. It works as a thriller. I'm tempted to call it a complete reinvention of the genre.

It begins, disappointingly, with the central character waking up having lost a large chunk of his memory - a trick that's been pulled many times - but Steven Hall gets away with it because the book is very well-written. Aside from the memory loss bit, the novel is refreshingly cliché free, with many interesting (and very silly) ideas.

It's not perfect, but it's definitely worth reading. Where it fails, it fails in interesting ways.

Also, if there were award for "best chapter headings" (and there probably is), this book would be a clear winner.

Here's Steven Hall's page on the Canongate website.