Monthly Archives: December 2017

The Last Recent Reading of 2017

Thanks to Billy Mills for this excellent review of ‘broken stories’.

Elliptical Movements

Language of Objects, Text & Images: Murdo Eason, Sound: Brian Lavelle, Blind Roads Press 2017, ISBN: 978-1-9997718-0-5, £10.99 plus P&P.

Bone Ink, Rico Craig, the now defunct Guillotine Press, but available from the author for 20.00 Australian dollars.

The Orchard Keeper, Susan Connolly, Shearsman 2017, ISBN 9781848615601, £6.50

A Day that you Happen to Know, Nic Stringer with illustrations by Lucy Kerr, Guillemot Press, £8.00

Broken Stories, Reuben Woolley, 20/20 Vision, ISBN: 9781907449031, £9.50

Lang_obj.jpgLanguage of Objects is a collaboration between Murdo Eason of the Fife Psychogeographical Collective and Brian Lavelle, sound artist and the Edinburgh Drift project. It consists of a book containing photographs and texts by Eason and a CD of a sound piece called Sullen Charybdis, theBlue of Scarabs by Lavelle, the music responding to, and in some ways mirroring, the book rather than accompanying it in any narrow sense.


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Respect by Sara Dennis

I am not a silent poet

Finally, he agreed to leave

On one condition

I had to swear that

I Would not start a new relationship

For at least two years

Because that would be disrespectful

To him.

I kept my mouth shut. Again.

But in my head, I said to him:


Let me tell you about disrespectfulness.

You disrespected me each time you slapped me.

You disrespected me each time you pushed me.

You disrespected me each time you punched me.

You disrespected me each time you kicked me.

You disrespected me each time you spat on me.

You disrespected me each time you stole from me.

You disrespected me each time you lied to me

You disrespected me each time you controlled me.

You disrespected me each time you raped me.

And now I am free,

And now, I have self-respect.

I do not need yours,

And you do not have mine.

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I am not a silent poet

(In 10 easy steps!)

  1. Fill the kettle with water in preparation.
  2. The second you hear the psychopath’s feet hit the bedroom floor, switch on the kettle.
  3. Place teabag in cup: DO NOT ADD SUGAR OR MILK AT THIS POINT.
  4. Silently will the kettle to boil faster.
  5. Put the spoon, sugar bowl and milk carton beside the cup.                                               REMEMBER: you will have to act fast!
  6. Take deep breaths to ease your panic as you hear him cough, piss then start his decent down the staircase.
  7. As soon as the kettle clicks, pour boiling water onto the teabag, add two heaped teaspoons of sugar and a splash of milk.
    REMEMBER: he must have his tea very strong or there will be repercussions.
    TIP: Steady your hand as…

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The Society of Happy Poems by Antony Owen

I am not a silent poet

I’ve an army of followers on twitter she said,
strange how all of them were poets not soldiers.
She asked me when I’d write something happy
people do not want to read invisible atrocities.

I’ve an army of followers on twitter she said
they sometimes fight over the golden perch,
and each tweet rips a feather from the wren,
the wren that sang in Ypres for followers of no man’s land.

An army of soldiers gave away candy to children,
they had nineteen followers shouting me, me, me.
One of the sweet wrappers was followed by Jihadis,
stories of war and wren song do not end happy.

Two years ago, I followed the stories of ancient children,
one of them collapsed at the plane that killed Hiroshima,
a film crew followed her and hung her privacy for all to see.
Her son rang from Tokyo, “now the…

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I also, inbetween, chose the mermaid by Aad de Gids

I am not a silent poet

here comes the poem of beauty it is falling from the sky
there isn’t any necessity or ever the answer nor question why
a topic isn’t necessary while one fares better with avoidance
of laTrumpe and kimYongUn. oh they will have their moment
their moment in the sun, their grey concrete dappled, seurat
cosmetological skins and hairs almost à la haute couture well
coiffed in the spirit of the late Coiffures Alexandre de Paris
their sinister beauty shall nevertheless not corrumpate this le
poème, these are domains shifting alongside each other doing
a “Panama”: ships passing through the night, not so much
the jumble on the planet, as they perhaps had hoped foreseen
as cardboard presidentes they, stand like dead trees visibly
yet innately empty eaten out by termites as can be seen off
of hayhair or the mohawk of pubic hair of kim. go play in da

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Here is more news by Peadar O’Donoghue

I am not a silent poet

People who threw up their arms
about Trump’s wall
link them to keep refugees at bay.

Irish politicians unanimously vote
to keep homeless people homeless.

A lovely dog was
hounded by reporters
after being declared barking mad.

Sport. It’s not the winning
but the taking apart
that counts.

Weather. Hurricane Beelzebub
is expected to stay.

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