A Free Write… ‘Slightly’ Edited

The themes for my upcoming Say Sum Thin 6 performance have changed quite a bit over this last festive break, but I thought I’d put this up as some of the Mouthy collective may have wanted to see it. The original theme I went for was rejection, and although that still plays a part in my newest work, a lot of it got ‘off-shored’ to this piece here. It certainly demonstrates how my writing has developed in the year since Say Sum Thin 4 – I merely place the audience at the heart of what I do, so there is a style I adopt for Nottingham crowds that doesn’t come into play here.

Free Flow

Rejection.

The projection of all social apprehension. A collection of all of the lies they despise, pointed in a single direction. An attempt at correcting all the neglecting collecting when they feel they just ain’t connecting. So they start rejecting, dissecting anyone they’re affecting, just so they can keep on selecting.

Hoping that something better will happen

You hit on a crush, but get rejected

And you apply for a job, but get rejected

Some ethereal force has you elected and protected as an in-balance uncorrected. You start to feel disconnected, like you’re the one person ejected from the normality that you once expected. Nothing seems whole – it all becomes cold. You start feeling like a penguin in the south pole, hustling about on an iceberg now in free flow.

Test your metal – test your creed. When you’re lost, take the lead, and sow the seeds your spirit needs. Do harder deeds at greater speeds, but prepare yourself to concede against those who’ll mislead, misread and ultimately impede you. Even those who once had you freed may now say you’re not a winning breed. I choose not to bite the hands that feed, so in these days of corporate greed, I must ask myself will I change myself purely in order to succeed?

These days I’m just a poet free-styling

Compiling lyrical hard-wiring, for myself and all the people who keep smiling

When they see me stand-up with my old-jokes piling, new-rhymes filing

Go-the-extra mile-ing for a new life-styling, because I’m sick of all this everyday nine-to-five tiling, and I know I want to change my life, but I’m just fed up of dialing

And not getting through

You see, some days the stars blaze; especially on Sundays

But my gaze is hazy nowadays; must I raise myself up now into this cash-crazed, self-praised society of lost ways? To do only whatever pays – your heart is where your home stays, do whatever mum says, regardless of your old age. And sit out in the sun’s rays, where all the lazy folk laze, and nurture all the road-rage in your mind-mazed work-cage with all the other graduated masterminds of great plays.

Will there be another page?

I already look to early graves

Dug for me before I’m due

To end my lust before it’s through

And I know I’m not the only one

You can’t pull a fit chick unless you’re a complete dick

You can’t complete your life goals, unless you are an arsehole

But you’re not

And so your soul pays the toll, and you sign back on the dole, and dig an even deeper hole. A social mole who lost control – enrolled for greatness, but not consoled.

Like a penguin in the south pole, on icebergs now in free flow.

Sometimes I struggle for that next line, convinced the words cannot not be mine. Maybe we’ll get cut down in our prime, and we can see that as a sign for us to moan and whine to all the folks we find. But perhaps, we just get too intertwined with looking to days when stage lights shine. So until then we should improve on our rhymes, keep performing, and strive to do better next time.

So, write with me.

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