Made in Roath - Resident Blogger

V excited to announce that I will be Resident Blogger for this year's Made in Roath Festival!

Please click on the image below to visit the new blog.

Imperial

This is a new poem, a draft, not a funny one, inspired a little by thinking about the royals, because of the recent birth, and also by Wales Wildflower Day, which happened recently at the National Botanic Garden of Wales, and which I was lucky enough to attend. Who ever thought the buttercup was such a blighter? Well, it is, so here you go:

I am trying to find the beauty in you, buttercup.
I am looking only at your golden heads.
I am attempting to forget what the expert said:
That your species is invasive.
That your style is ‘creeping’.
That your taste is acrid.
That your sap can cause blistering.
You carry your poison so prettily,
You are lovely to behold, intermingled
With the daisies, as if you were one of them.
As if you could ever be ‘common’.
You will live for a thousand years
And gradually those daisies will be crowded out.
You will block the light from them, put them in the shade,
Steal the soil’s potassium from beneath their roots,
Secrete toxic chemicals from your own that
They will drink, unknowingly.
Thinking that you are a friend.
They will feed it to their children and their children
Will become weak. You will smile as their heads grow limp,
As each generation is born smaller, feebler.
One day, there won’t be any births at all.
And still the passersby will look at you,
And marvel at your pretty golden heads,
So many of them, like cups, reflecting the sunlight
From above, so beautiful, full only of themselves.
The soil beneath now richer than it ever was.

Super-Tired...

I can't say that this poem is about me... It's about some ladies I know, though, and who I wouldn't mind being like... It's about a feeling I sometimes feel, though normally I am happy to help people out... It's also inspired by this amazeballs Superman dress that was just made for me by Nelly's Treasures, who share the upstairs balcony space with my Queen Mab shop in Cardiff Fashion Quarter... Hope you like it, anyways x

I am a superwoman with a superwoman’s needs
A superwoman’s super good at doing super deeds
But sometimes, well, it’s super-swell
To not be super, just to dwell
In the ‘woman’ part of who I am and simply be
This super greed can supersede the need you have for me
And if I don’t I won’t be able
Next time that the world’s unstable
Next time there’s a perilous plot
Next time some crazed soul has got
The earth to ransom and near-ruin
I won’t be there, I’ll be doing
Other things because you didn’t let me have some rest
I’m super sorry, but don’t worry, now it’s off my chest
You’ll understand my needs which aren’t so super after all
High flyers sometimes tire, need to stop or else they fall...
So for today, I’m not that super
Go away, and let that blooper
That mistake, that fatal blunder
Be your own, I’m all snowed under
                                                            My superwoman suit has just been washed and isn’t dry, yet
                                                            I’m super sick of all of this, and want to just ask why it’s
                                                            Always me (or Superman),
                                                            When the shit has hit the fan
                                                            You call upon instead of seeing what you might do on your own?
                                                            I am a super being but before, weren’t you alone?
                                                            My kryptonite is every fight you don’t need me to do
                                                            So, go away, because today, that super being’s YOU.

This Mouth Spits Ink

As some of you will know, I was plucked from poetic obscurity during my third ever gig by iconic poet Peter Finch about 5 years ago. As a result, my fourth gig was in the Welsh heat of the BBC Radio 4 National Poetry Slam, and my fifth gig live on BBC radio.

I have always made it my joyous 'job' (if you can call it that) to pluck out and promote talent in a similar manner through my social enterprise Jam Bones, through which I have organised over 60 events in the past few years.

Most recently, I was startled and impressed by a young poet called Johnny Giles, who came to my attention during a spoken word event organised by Alwyn Jones in Tommy's Bar. A naturally gifted performer, Johnny is possessed of a compact, charismatic presence which captures audience attention from the very beginning to the always-too-soon end. Already writing poetry for 5 years, the transition from stage to page has been a relatively recent one, but one which has seen the young poet already win fans and the respect of his poetry peers, myself included.

As a result, I took the step of making Johnny Poet in Residence at my new Jam Bones event, Back of the Pub Poetry Club. It really is a rarity to find a poet who is both brilliant on the page and kick-ass on the stage, but this is one who manages it. Expect striking; stand-out simile; astoundingly original metaphor; a deeply developed sensitivity to human frailties, human cruelties; rare tenderness, quirky humour, and strong, sometimes political, passion.

The next Back of the Pub Poetry Club takes place at the Tair Pluen, inside the Owain Glyndwr pub, on Sunday 21st July, from 7pm. It is free of charge, and if you would like to read yourself please bring up to 5 minutes of poems. 

And, of course, do come to hear Johnny read, as well as many talented others. Do also take a look (and follow) his new blog (please click on the image below). Two fantastic poems are on there already, and I am eagerly awaiting more. Enjoy!!!

The Political Compass

Someone reminded me today about the fact that I am featured on the 'Aryan Untiy' website, in their 'Red Watch' section, for my rhyming poetical crimes against fascism. It's kind of like a 'most wanted' list; it means I am considered a danger to those delightful people we call neo-Nazis. I can't remember which poem it was, particularly, which offended them... Perhaps the one about pubic hair styles around Wales *wink*.

Anyway, before I nip to Newport to see the lovely Pam Ayres this evening, I thought I would take the Political Compass test to see where my politics lie... Lie as in sit, rather than tell a porky, or lounge lazing on a chez longe of course... So, I took this test, here be the result:

Yay! I am still more left wing than the Dalai fricking Lama! This makes me happy indeed. Happy Friday, comrades!!!

From Cooped Up.... to Souped Up!

I've been ill for sooooooooooooooooooooooooo loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong - my Lord, it feels like a lifetime! I used to organise a hell of a lot of things, but at the moment I still don't feel I have what it takes to do very much... But I'd like to help make cool things happen... How, though....???!!

Ah, yes! Sunday Soup! It's a project that began in the USA a little while back... Basically, people gather together for a meal, they pay a small amount for said meal, and the monies they pay then go into funding a small creative project. People put bids in for their event/project/happening, and everyone attending votes for their fave after the meal...

What a sweet idea! If I can't actually organise something, I can at least help fund it....!

This suits me. This is what I will do, then. From cooped up to souped up in, er, well, a couple of months, really...

More details on Sunday Soup Cardiff 

HERE.

More details on Sunday Soup itself 

HERE.

Get in touch if you'd like to help out, too! x

The Year in Shitty Pictures

A lot of shit happened this year... Some of the shit was too shit for me to notice, as I had some other shit going on... But here's a few of the bits what I remember.

The year began. Everyone was really happy, and started using this new word, 'Amazeballs'. Some people liked it, but some people didn't... Of all the protests this year, this one was perhaps the most fierce!

Apparently, it got put in the Collins English Dictionary, and was something to do with popcorn. Maize balls!

A social internet tendency towards these sort of pictures flew about, each one less amusing than the last:

Next up: I got a Valentine's Card! One that was entirely fitting for a classy bird such as myself...

Then, the National Botanic Garden of Wales tried to stop me writing rude poems by making me their first ever Poet in Residence. I think it worked!

There were lots of things in the news, but I was too ill/caught up in shit to take notice...

Though, I did manage to enjoy the Olympics opening ceremony. It was great to finally find out where all those NHS beds went!

There was some blah-blah-crap to do with celebrating the Queen's existence, with a lot of tax payers' money going towards appropriate signage for the event...

I was also pleased to discover that this was the year Royal Doulton commemorated the release of the topless photos of Kate Middleton, by releasing a Collector's Edition of two small jugs...

The end of the world then showed up. It threatened to out-do the Great Asteroid of 1998 with its mega-awesomeness!!

However, the year didn't come to an end, but instead came to a close in its normal manner. I got ill again, but I had learned one important lesson...

Also, that if I could have a dinner party with any three people, dead or alive, it would be Justin Bieber, Chris Brown, and Piers Morgan. All dead.

That was my shit year in pictures! Let's hope that 2013 isn't as crap!!!!!!!!

No More Mrs Nice Mab!

I've been ill for some time now. The most recent string of sicknesses (like dirty beads on a stinking chain - and when you look closely, you see the beads are actually throbbing glands, sweat-soaked cells, and globules of glutinous bile) has included: food poisoning; swiftly followed by yet another kidney infection; succeeded by a chest infection/flu; with conjunctivitis and an adverse reaction to some meds thrown in.

I've been lying down a lot, a bit like Katy in What Katy Did, but without ever having naughtily gone on the swing I was told not to. Generally, I am a Good Girl. I don't like to hurt people's feelings. I try to 'be nice' and pleasant and fit in with what other people want. I trained as a counsellor and I'm usually diplomatic with my words (in Real Life - which explains why On Stage I am such a madam!). However, there's nothing like a bit of enforced inertia to instill a strong sense of 'What I Want' in one.

And what I want is: excitement! Adventure! To enjoy more thrilling activities! And, to obtain a flat of my own, as per my Facebook status earlier this week:

Here be my pledge:

I pledge to seek the thrills, not worrying about the spills;

To find fun in every endeavour; to do

What I like when I like how I like with who I like

(Be it harm none... Except for the odd carpet burn, of course).

I pledge to edge instead of centre;

To centre myself in the unsuspected, the surprise...

To become a woman with wild eyes.

May 2013 be the year!!!!! Woo!!!!! :-)

Book Stuff!

"It is a man's duty to have books. A library is not a luxury but a necessity of life" - Henry Ward Beecher

And when he (or she! Bad Henry) have finished reading the books, then there's all sorts of stuff you can do with em...

This year, there seemed to be a lot of book-related things doing the rounds on various social media. Here are a few links to them for you... Enjoy! x

Bookshelves! Book Stairs! More Book Stairs! Book Covers! 

Book Trees! Book Art! Book Carving!
& (new) Book House!!!

Thanks (& so the days grow longer...!)

What is life, but a dream? Sometimes the thing can seem so harassed and bloodied, and heavy and terse, that we forget this. But, recently, I've been feeling it. Life's lighter, sunnier... So much so, that I can almost see through my own arms. Things are not as solid as they were. I see things more as motes of dust, rather than stones being thrown.

Earlier in the year, however, there were whole clouds of dust, and at the time every mote felt more like a comet than a crumb: a planet, rather than a particle. Now that I am seeing things in a sunnier light, I would like to thank all the people who were supportive during the time when I was having trouble with this... I was also pretty ill with a swift succession of kidney infections, which didn't much help matters.

So! My sincerest thank yous to......

Lisette, the bestest housemate ever! Nothing like a straight-talking Cockney wench to help you see things straight.

Fiona, the wise and beautiful dancing sprite, for sleep overs and advice and energising dance classes.

Kevin, who has a heart of gold, despite being a filthy, funny fucker (watch this clip!).

Cheers, also, to hep-cat Nicholas and cool-cat Marsha, simply for existing; to my sister Linds and brother Mao for their timely advice; to Emma Syrup and Will Ford, for listening when I ranted on; and also to the various ladies who I bumped into when distressed, and who were very nice to me: Sheryl; Coral; Yin; and everyone else.

Thanks to all my lovely, funny Facebook friends - FB gets a bad rap, like 'it's not real life' and that, but conversing/interacting with so many sweethearts *did* help, and *does* make a happy difference to my life.

Thanks to my meditation/healing group for being like little sparks of sunshine in a dark, dark world, and for showing me where and how to find the Light in myself :-)

Apologies to all the many people I did not get back to, esp. Jack Pascoe and Rachel Jones - I hope you will forgive me!

Thanks to the 'friends' who got in a huff/struck out when I was feeling low, really glad you've fucked off/I've told you to fuck off/I don't see you anymore! :-)

Thanks to Buzz Magazine for being so understanding and giving me some great opportunities this year, and to Write Out Loud (esp Greg Freeman) for allowing me to blog for them.

Thanks to Chapter Arts Centre, for hosting PechaKucha Night; and to Annie Haden at the Dylan Thomas Birthplace for being so kind and supportive.

Thank you to everyone who supported my cultural trip to Japan earlier in the year. See the full list of people who helped fund the trip here: but I would also like to thank those two who funded the most money (because I said I'd write a blog about you, and I havent yet): marvellous performance poet Anthony Fairweather and the super-talented singer-songwriter Cheryl Beer. 

Thanks also to Cheryl for asking me to perform at the wonderful Celtic Women festival.

And to Luke Wright, who helped sponsor my trip *and* booked me for the Latitude Festival, which was great fun.

To Leona Medlin of Mulfran Press for the lovely, poet-y London trip.

Thanks to Hirono Chikako of the Kansai St David's Society for asking me to perform at their festival in Osaka, Japan, and to photographer Rhys Jones for recommending me.

Thanks to the National Botanic Garden of Wales (David Hardy, in particular) for having me as their first ever Poet in Residence.

To Steven, for driving me to the Latitude Festival; for the sweet moments; and for making me realise I prefer dogs to cats.

And to many other people, too many to mention here!!! You know who you are, though!!! Much love to you, and a very happy Winter Solstice to you all!!!!! xxx