welcome to the supplement
Hey,
I've started this blog in response to many people's request for me to start a blog to supplement the old-skool word page I manage on x-bout.com, so, welcome I hope you enjoy it. I'm not sure it will make me post more stuff, but I'll TRY!
Nii
I've started this blog in response to many people's request for me to start a blog to supplement the old-skool word page I manage on x-bout.com, so, welcome I hope you enjoy it. I'm not sure it will make me post more stuff, but I'll TRY!
Nii
posted by x_reviewer at 10:46 PM
5 Comments:
hia there somewhere
caro mango man
no comments so far since 3.46 - so here i come wishing u a fun sort of saturday in big old royal london town - i attended two days ago the drab and dreary book signing event in waterstones in oxford street. had an orange glass and salvaged two orangecapped cup cakes or muffins with orange sweet sugar coating and orange little napkins and passed them on to a friend i met yesterday for an eyeover at the national portrait gallery - the paintings are fun indeed - i go with an unconditional attitude but of course selected special ones particularly the two slowmotion moving offerings - i have started out a new poem range of minimalist word production - po'm owlings - no poem longer than 10 words - and they are handwritten in a lilaccoloured easytotakearound notebook
so there - maybe this is mylast day on this strange planet - if so - blessed be ur hours too..
with a softrainpeachskinlondonsmile
x&al danzabel
Greetings Nii Parkes and every body locked onto this awsome site.
Like all good building sites the work ongoing is full on the cement mixers never seem to rest, with a hod full of bricks ( oh the good old day's ) I step into an area scattered with obstacles.
But the welcoming I often recieve when walking into a poetic enviroment usually surrounded by players like Nii Nial Naill Norinradd nonsense in cellars and very ligitimate buildings is unsurfast like an only razor able to quickly cut the bristles in time to catch on 7.59am train to Bellericky so I can face the boss looking sober and enthusiastic. Two an a half years of no booze and still not sober. Bukowski would have been proud.
The ego of a man always impress's the interlect of the women until she has to get back into reality, REALITY is but a poem understood the first time round.
The simplisity of the scene is like ground working day all over again for I guess really I understood the poem the first time around, pitty you all didn't for then we could all wallow in concrete and steel toe caps.
Some times a poem should be taken to the scrap yard and crushed in the glove compartment of an old Lada. But often a poem grows like a MG soft top with fancy James Bond high low gear switches. Guaranteed a brilliant poem read under tight circumstances could seem circumstised like a catholic reunion, or just as contriversial as the Sunday Sport, does any one still read that ?
I never forget sending my rendition of Gorse Bushes during attack Araq to the Guardian a suggestion from my friend Laurence in the Liberal party, yes I never forget cause I never got a response and I certainly was not gonna read the whole paper for the next twenty eight days.
Choosing the right litriture I find very difficult polatics seem underated , nature comes across as untouchable and sex well I 've got enough sex to hold up A million blarny stones upside down.
Interesting to see the results of big brother with Jordan and whhow whow whow mysterious having happy families, thats where am at happy families all this muck and magic can often seem dire and W.E. Yates ified. like a yard stick waiting to measure five thousand rugby pitches or John O Groats to Lands end. When will the knots in this piece of string unravel.
The fishermen spend most of there free time repairing nets so why can't I repair poems, well it is what it is and until I know better ( Nii give us your feedback) then I just continue along a similar gradiant.
The meridian just seems around the corner and the correllation between SHit and SUgar may need to be applied in a poem but who gives a cat's dropping all poems are littered with subliminal messages it's just the research I find really difficult.
Although the strength may be in the research Christ has anybody got the time these days to reflect by looking not through the window but for the window to be clean enough to catch a glimmer of your own reflection.
Greetings Nii Parkes and every body locked onto this awsome site.
Like all good building sites the work ongoing is full on the cement mixers never seem to rest, with a hod full of bricks ( oh the good old day's ) I step into an area scattered with obstacles.
But the welcoming I often recieve when walking into a poetic enviroment usually surrounded by players like Nii Nial Naill Norinradd nonsense in cellars and very ligitimate buildings is unsurfast like an only razor able to quickly cut the bristles in time to catch on 7.59am train to Bellericky so I can face the boss looking sober and enthusiastic. Two an a half years of no booze and still not sober. Bukowski would have been proud.
The ego of a man always impress's the interlect of the women until she has to get back into reality, REALITY is but a poem understood the first time round.
The simplisity of the scene is like ground working day all over again for I guess really I understood the poem the first time around, pitty you all didn't for then we could all wallow in concrete and steel toe caps.
Some times a poem should be taken to the scrap yard and crushed in the glove compartment of an old Lada. But often a poem grows like a MG soft top with fancy James Bond high low gear switches. Guaranteed a brilliant poem read under tight circumstances could seem circumstised like a catholic reunion, or just as contriversial as the Sunday Sport, does any one still read that ?
I never forget sending my rendition of Gorse Bushes during attack Araq to the Guardian a suggestion from my friend Laurence in the Liberal party, yes I never forget cause I never got a response and I certainly was not gonna read the whole paper for the next twenty eight days.
Choosing the right litriture I find very difficult polatics seem underated , nature comes across as untouchable and sex well I 've got enough sex to hold up A million blarny stones upside down.
Interesting to see the results of big brother with Jordan and whhow whow whow mysterious having happy families, thats where am at happy families all this muck and magic can often seem dire and W.E. Yates ified. like a yard stick waiting to measure five thousand rugby pitches or John O Groats to Lands end. When will the knots in this piece of string unravel.
The fishermen spend most of there free time repairing nets so why can't I repair poems, well it is what it is and until I know better ( Nii give us your feedback) then I just continue along a similar gradiant.
The meridian just seems around the corner and the correllation between SHit and SUgar may need to be applied in a poem but who gives a cat's dropping all poems are littered with subliminal messages it's just the research I find really difficult.
Although the strength may be in the research Christ has anybody got the time these days to reflect by looking not through the window but for the window to be clean enough to catch a glimmer of your own reflection.
The poetry cafe was manned by the one and only Valieria who was looking remarkably similar to the fruitful photo on my old web-site which i found quite comforting as I entered loaded with a vileda floor wiper ( and refill dusters ) before I got chance to order my usual coffee John Paul (Farrago poetry) approached me with " Are you feeling energetic I need a push " talk about helping me feel part of. So yes myself and two other dedicated poetry lovers pushed John Paul's white mobile past Jason's technicolour dream coat it was a sin ch, best get some power in that battery though , and the gizza stood at the pelican crossing, just stood aimlessly almost waiting for the sound of John Paul's rev.
Any road having explained to Nii downstairs about the vileda floor wiper whilst helping him stack the chairs in the usual formation oh an the table arranged so as all the books ( old and new ) could be displayed and sold in a reasonable fashion ( with an appropriate coordination of colour coding. Soon the night would be afoot having downed my coffee whilst chatting to the infamous Mr Bryne about poetry readings in Belmarsh prison ( the therapeutic value of poetry surely is indisputable and as of late indescribable especially when it was of this calibre ).
Nii Parkes aka ( Sally : the secretary ) (or Mark : Internet manager ) and of course in his own persona all are running the X-bout web-site ( due to legitimate legal reasons ) as was explained in the introduction.
Happy birthday X- bout as the first poet up came from Nial O ' Sullivan with a poem res cited without the use his book ( the latest release in the series ) text was about helicopters which set the tone for the evening to climb up into the stratosphere of literature brewing, always a pleasure to have Nial's rosy cheeks of elocution's.
This of their format set by Nii was only an intro to each individual poet in the series of books ( Now available also in Waterways ).
Next up was Agnes with her flag of women hoisted followed by James Buyrne with one of my favourite poems from his first book ( the black one with a retina on the front cover ) The leaf maker or something.
Then Anou popped up making his entrance in the nick of time as all good prophets would have done millenniums ago with the depictions and visions about movements in the land a new message understood by all who witness in ore at this indisputable connection and understanding of so many, I guess this one 'The goats man ' will send ripples on the poetic collection of the poets loving bookshelf as would the bible to a christian or the Koran to the Muslim, Annou and his ' Fairy Negro Tales ' is stooped to be a flying success. Surely Anou will take Stonehenge, Sorry Glastonbury by storm, his presence is also noted upon the web and his designs upon the cover of the X-bout related magazine .
Next to me following this explosion of being taken higher and higher of Anou's clearly * Greek expo of presence of spirit *
Jacob felt so uncomfy where seated his deep voice resonated from where he was sat , next to me on the six row this made me feel privileged to have his poetic knowledge almost shared what seemed like one to one, as I gained an in site into his school memories and full descriptions of a similar times his family especially his father and how he let it slip ( as is life sometimes ) in his career and the exact depictions of son to father, how mum felt and how each sub-section of a poem coils take the mind right back to the feelings or descriptions of a time lodged upon shelf's of the mind never fer gotten or maybe even never dusted down.
*lighthouse publisher poet* then took stage to describe what I later found out to be his brother ( my memory is somewhat dis-connected ) was deep unoffensive and logical as was all of the poets above , his presence alone in X-bout publishing's as is Agnes , James, Nial, Jacob contributed to a thoroughly installment of a birthday bash certainly not to be fer gotten.
Unfortunately Annis Burrows could not be present so Nii read extracts from his book, now I found his words colourful and angelic although lacked the prescience of the man himself, well one man show Nii is doing his best by solely running the information needed on the scene Borders Charing cross Road Tuesday, Clerkenwell (Aroma Poetry) Sunday.
Agnes is now the host of a new night in Borders Islington fresh back from Texas her boasting of women hood is thoroughly except able ( as from a mans defence) and as she explains magic is somewhat like riding a bike you never forget.
Agnes is doing business I guess and she inspires me to do up the shirt buttons and listen to a calibre that is unsurfaced ( for a woman ) (Or for a man for that matter.)
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