So last night was the official launch of the IOW Young Writers anthology of poetry, titled the 'Anonthology.' It was an absolutely outstanding evening, and I was thrilled to have so many of my friends and family there to support my spoken word performances. Our group and its directors became extremely close, and we all delighted in the reality that our work was now published, being sold before our eyes. It was quite surreal to be giving autographs and interviews, conversing with project managers, and performing to a huge turnout of people crammed in the cosy spaces of Waterstones!
At the beginning I was freaking out with nervousness. It goes two ways when this happens. I either flake out on the floor, or launch into hyperactivity. The latter occurred, and I felt like I was bouncing off of the walls. I remember getting up there and feeling my voice quiver.But in the end, everything went fantastically, and I am so proud of everyone within this group for all of their hard work, and maintenance of breath-taking originality.
The 'Anonthology' will soon be available on Amazon for roughly £8. It comprises of poetry, flash fiction, prose, and many other modes of writing. We cover topics ranging from politics to coffee, and everything in between.
I will add some videos and photos of the night to my blog soon, but in the meantime, please enjoy reading a piece I performed last night.
'Liposuction Logistics'
You have a plan,
Because fat on the pan irks you.
And you can't pucker up,
to parade your worth.
You'll only accentuate what you see
as your slavish, rotund contours
and sebaceous embellishments.
The sizzling is the singing
of all of your fears.
You think yourself edible.
Because he sprinkled words
Like hundreds and thousands on ice cream
And you had sex.
Then he ignored your texts.
Mother nature must be
a savage, languid bitch
with a poisoned palette
cackling all the while
You want the remedial rockets
of saving grace substances
Because bonafide beauty is blameless.
Every conqueror has logistics
for the land they are to take.
But your story is a strange one.
It is yourself that you wish
to sack, cut rip, and stitch.
To be beautiful, celestial and fit.
To these logistics, you are loyal.
Eton's mess is reminiscent
of the commotion in your head.
You read the leaflets and side effects.
You book an appointment nevertheless.
Within the week,
they'll assess.
Numb the loathsome skin.
Insert the hooks, and tie the ropes.
Tell the drivers to accelerate.
Purge the pudgy manifestation.
The rank recessive gene.
Clotted blood over clotted cream.
Sutures and rotten gamgee.
There are scars now.
Your surfaces are rasp and swollen.
Glazed in is the substance of iodine
sticky and lingering
on your lips, hips, and sewn, taut belly bits.
Still iodine beats ice cream
You reason irrationally.
I cradle you like a new born child,
and shake at your fragility.
I had pleased helplessly,
so I tell you not to do this again.
Trying as I might to be a friend.
But you have to, you say.
Because you have a plan.
Liposuction logistics to rid of layers.
That then they may glance at what's within.
A big thank you to those who read and support my blog and other endeavours, to everyone from the Anon Writers, and to those who came out to support us at our launch last night.
Within the next few days, a rant I have written about Ross Geller from 'Friends' will be published on feminist and pop culture blog 'Clarissa Explains F*** All.' Thanks goes to Amy Mackelden for this opportunity. In addition, I am hoping to get a review of 'Bridget Jones' Baby' up pretty sharpish!
To find out more about the 'Anon Writers,' check out our blog at:
And to check out 'Clarissa Explains F*** All,' go to:
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