Izzy SS9 2nd draft

23 Jun

I tried to develop the character of the bouncer and make it more personal, and to get across the way he feels. I haven’t worked out how Kat and I are going to perform as a collab – but this is my half of the collab so far.

Boys spring free from range rovers,

fresh from exam halls,

Hair smoothed back by mother as she plants her parting kiss

Trail crumbs of sticky aluminium

Waterproof, synthetic

With their illegal glass

Swapping names and bottles

Weaving round the burger stands

The men stretch band shirts between broad shoulders,

Gnarled brows, unkissed

scrunch their resentment of The Man on the Door

As they squeeze their haunches through the search stations

Sniffed for dugs

I could be with them

But these days

I can’t afford a weekend off

Last year, bag churned by security

I ended my pilgrimage

Tore open birthday cards

And poured the wrinkled tenners into this field

Staggered blind into a tent

Stuffed with temporary Primark

Later bagged up and sealed

This year, when the bands play, I do not hear

But see a girl

Flung high, into the spears of up stretched hands

Surges on the crest of a wave

Away, away, away

Rolls high,

The stars and the laser smoke

Smeared across her eyes

Tumbles over the barrier

I am dense and I am real

Grounded in the stodgy grass

And like all the kids,

She expects me to catch her

Safety net woven so fine

The mesh is lost in the spotlights

The lids of her eyes are swimming

A glance back, and she’s faceless

Waist deep in mud, and running

To a noiseless scream

Painful in its silence

I stand, fluorescent

A muted giant

Invisible in high-vis

Hidden by the ticking hand of strobe lights

I need to feel a little younger,

To be wide eyed

Slamming down the glass

Red faced from my first shot

I remember discovering the cool indifference

Of artists who tire of the act

Of men like me, stamping your hand

The kids don’t seem to sleep

But jitter by the DJ tents

Diving into cameras

As though begging for food

A man turns slow circles in Blue Camp

Glazed and twitching

And they take selfies with him

I try to place the ghost

Of my old self

In the awkward hanging flesh

Of baggy sweaters

Misplaced elbows and dogged steps

Vapid expressions

Every muscle in my face is a mess

I patrol the silent disco,

Drop my jacket in the mud,

Let teens keep their drinks

Melt into the ink pool

Of rustling denim

I sink into a hot bath

And fall asleep

I Feel the crush of senseless movement

Its unsynchronised twists

Its splutters

Of lyrics that bleed together

And dancers laced together

Until I feel I might be one of them

Their luck runs out – Monday morning

I am the last man standing

Peering down – their bodies on the grass

Cynical as ever once party’s over

And I know now, we could not be more apart

They are pale, scattered ashes

From DIY barbeques

Abandoning tents

Like fractured road kill

Discarding their possessions

The hush falls heavier than dew

Startled by the shriek of a boy

In a tie dye peace shirt

Lynx can ignited

Breathing washed bluish flames

Scented with the fragrance

That never got him laid

Advertisements

2 Responses to “Izzy SS9 2nd draft”

  1. MouthyPoets June 24, 2015 at 2:47 pm #

    Hey Izzy!

    This is a great draft, really enjoyed reading it
    Perhaps what I might suggest is going through, and taking out or merging some lines- you’ve got some absolutely killer material in there, such as ‘melt into the ink pool’ –
    then on the other side, the lines like ‘of my old self’ looks a little odd on its own?
    I think its such a strong poem, if you honed it down some more it’d be unstoppable.
    The only other notes I’d say really are perhaps make sure your narrative is there – your description is great, but maybe root us as an audience in the experience a little more?
    But absolutely cracking stuff, looking forward to see where it goes!

    Chris

  2. secondanne June 25, 2015 at 9:35 am #

    Wow! This is great. I really feel this man’s thought process and I believe he’s a man too, not a girl writing as a man. So I’m going to go through and be picky because this is so close to being done that you donut really need much feedback I donut think.

    “Trail crumbs of sticky aluminium

    Waterproof, synthetic”
    – not sure what that is – is it tents? If so, why crumbs? Water proof synthetic – clothing? tents?

    Last year, bag churned by security (so he went to a festival last year?)

    I ended my pilgrimage (ended a pilgrimage? Going to festivals?)
    Tore open birthday cards (specific age I’m guessing)
    And poured the wrinkled tenners into this field
    Staggered blind into a tent
    Stuffed with temporary Primark
    bagged up and sealed (not sure what this is either)

    I stand, fluorescent
    A muted giant
    Invisible in high-vis LOVE THIS IMAGE

    Diving into cameras
    As though begging for food LOVE THIS IMAGE TOO

    I sink into a hot bath
    And fall asleep (I actually thought that he was at home for a second there – but then realised he wasn’t – but that jolted me out of the place you’d taken me)

    The hush falls heavier than dew AHHH PERFECT

    On an ‘on-the-page note’ – I would lose the CAPS at the start of each line

    Can’t wait 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: