Commonword Blogs

If there was ever such a time that there was no such limitation as racism, sexism, feminism and capitalism or that the media did not feel that it had a right to confuse me with depictions of myself that created images that wee as far apart as an elephant and a bird. If there was not an assumed shortage of men which created a sociological pattern upon which the expectations of my life were to be dictated by this or that trend. If I was able to grow up with my self esteem intact and be confident and able to choose the type of life that I would like to live.

Thanks to all those poets who turned out to the Oldham Failsworth poetry event who made it such a warm and fun filled evening. (That front row of kids - they should be hired to heckle hosts right, they did it so well!)

It was the kind of event where the beginnings of great things can be felt. There was a mixture of experienced and new poets, and of polished material and new writing being tried out. I was particularly pleased with the asurance of the new poets - one of them had never taken to the stage before to read and he really did well.

Another frenetic couple of weeks have passed since I last posted, that have left me without the time or inclination to write anything much beyond a few dull emails. I tell myself that this is because I've had so much on; trips to London to celebrate my sister's birthday and help my girlfriend move house, meetings, gigs, friend's shows to see; but I know these are excuses and if I was into my writing I would have stolen back some precious moments for my work and myself.

Opening sequence of a poem by Nadeem Zafar.

Always stood out from the crowd,
I never not know why providence blessed me as such,
Never wanting my individuality cast under a shroud,
My essential nature,pure to touch.

Was diagnosed with hydrocephalus in my early youth,
Enlarged skull a permanent reminder of who i really am,
Spent so many years living in the shadows of the untruth,
I fight it, no longer wishing to endure this mindless sham.

Sometimes I wonder why God chose me,
A 1 in 2500 chance isn't all that rare,
The ignorant hordes simply refuse to let me be,

As I sit here I reminisce
Reminisce about the things I have done
Reminisce about the things that I have missed and if I had one wish
It would be that things wore done differently in a positive manna more academically
I should have aimed high instead of roaming the streets pushing that shit
Ducking from the boy! Dem! Boy! Dem! Rolling with heat
On occasion I would even smoke that shit had my mined getting weak
All the time I was gawching sitting around being a waste man doing nothing?
My excuses I was blind had my eyes covered na! I just didn’t want to see nothing

This is Acapella's blog

This is the opening sequence of my love/relationship theme.

I loved her more than my mum sometimes, that was the effect that this prominent sultry Italian woman had on me. She was my first and only ever true love, the one I lowered my defences for, like an army lowering it's drawbridge over a moat. Only to raise them again like a fool,because I could not portray real love in return.
I know I will never get over her because she always seems to be on my shoulder whispering sweet poetry, reminiscent of a cherub in a Michael Angelo painting.

This a true account of my journey of discovery, growing up in England specifically Manchester through 70s until the present.

Experiencing everything that this country has to offer. Fashion, Music, Football, Drugs and Racism.

I hope that my story will give you an idea of life through my eyes.

So read on and join me on this journey of questions & answers.
You never know it might inspire you to write something.

This book is for friends straight out of Longsight M13 and especially for those who no longer have a voice.

Marjorie Robinson

Here's the start of my short story with a migration theme:

Hey dontcha just love it when you write first and then the opportunity comes knocking? I've been writing this travel blog thang for a couple of months now. Never thought much about it. But I've just caught news that Manchester Literature Festival has put up a site which is www.rainycitystories.com and they are looking for people to submit very short stories from all over Greater Manchester

So here, as promised, is my second blog post of the week, to make up for my block-plagued absence of the last month.

Something I may grow to love about blogs is their, for me at least, instantaneity. I started writing a post yesterday, which I didn't have time to finish, and after looking back on it I now have to begin again because I feel differently today.

Photoshoot for an event during Manchester Literature Festival. Sometimes as a promoter you rack your brains trying to think up a photo that is not the conventional head and shoulders shot - something that will attract the interest of the casual newspaper viewer/reader. This photoshoot was a real saga.