Tag Archives: poem

Spoken Word: Jobsworth

Having written more than 30 poems/raps that I consider decent, I remain reluctant to stick too much footage online as the live performance is always a large part of my sets.

Still, just because I love so many of you, I thought I’d share a poem called ‘Jobsworth’ about being stuck in a place where you’re not really content – be it logistically, in terms of employment or even the people you surround yourself with.

PS: Please excuse the Crabbies sunglasses, it was for an audition and I’ve snipped the intro off to get straight into the meat of the poem.

Love and lyrics,

DxK

Written by Dom Kureen

As a young rapscallion stranded on an Island, my time is split between writing, performing spoken word, wrestling alligators and delivering uplifting pep talks to hairdressers before they prune me. I meditate and wash daily when possible.

Blessings Counted (Stone Paucity Counterpart): An original poem

Freaky girl

Serving my servant with an ∑viction notice,

Peel yourself away from me,

Strip your bed so that I can strip mine,

Tip your head so that I can skip the countermine,

Feel your way along the wall,

Repair the way you belong to the small,

Pull your chin down,

Looking up is for the infant,

Looking around is for the infant,

Looking up the lineament is one day for the infant,

Join the dots and join the individuals,

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  • o
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your hands,

For the world is a playground so feel free to play,

But be reminded of the verdant horizons that construct a view,

An environ is the blackguards halo,

So where better to be contemptuous than in court?

Written by Just Mike

Ranked 34th in Talk Sport's top 50 funny men of 2013, Michael, or 'Mike' as he's affectionately known to millions, can often be found quaffing sugar water with former Pop Idol stud-cake Darius. A fine chap, with remarkable credentials.

Nix Abstentious: An original poem

Chop straws, coil wealth… The party begins.

 

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Sequins dazzle, optics tremble in synchrony with lyrics projecting from quivering rims.

Dilated saucers on the stage we occupy, shaded before another quaff grants consent, attained through diabolical contrivance.

The crackle of chemical artifice, enlightened translation – extract the remaining shards of qualm.

Doesn’t every man deserve the time to shine?

The act of breathing can be tortuously protracted and cutting skin away merely briefly numbs the emotional ache.

Shame unfamiliar branches with depraved journeys along well beaten trails, where mystery replaces ordained allegiance.

Fresh spokes revolve the wheel;

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I. Didn’t. Ask…

to see her pierced veins, she insisted. A rite of passage: each scar a graduation, each blister a flashback.

You don’t realise the time – it was something…. Like…. Spring.

Hands melted and honeycomb vibrated when I closed my eyes.

Conclude with something insightful, whilst a dragon simultaneously eyeballs you from point-blank quarters, those cursory shavings of fragmented, colourless reels seldom illuminate the spirit.

On the unfortunate they prey… Fables conclude. We wake feeling deficient. Vulnerably caged with a violent theme tune for a stinging septum and stained foundations.

Written by Dom Kureen

As a young rapscallion stranded on an Island, my time is split between writing, performing spoken word, wrestling alligators and delivering uplifting pep talks to hairdressers before they prune me. I meditate and wash daily when possible.

Philosoracle: An original poem

The accusations of apathy linger and the pleasant blaze of the sun only serves as a temporary diversion from the confused actuality of our being. Pathways guilty of seducing the inner optical, all webbed in uncertainty, lie in wait as challenges which attempt to divert us from paramount ambitions.

Any coward can turn blind eyed from the obstacles and conjure another cookie cutter existence based on fear. As tempting as may seem the ease at which mediocrity can be attained, it is also ultimately fraught with unfulfillment.

In reality, it is those brief flashes of idiosyncrasy we all experience sporadically which allow us a glimpse into our uncorked potential and as a bi-product show the futility of residing within the safety of the flock.

Magic 8-ball
So many fear death and crave immortality, blissfully unaware that to live for eternity would merely serve as an excuse to delay our own progression, another reason to exist in the mundane rather than live in the extraordinary.

The select few are the ones who snub normality, aspiring not to merely bestow an imprint upon this Universe, instead electing to tattoo their initials in stardust and carve their philosophy from oak all over its axis.

DxK

Written by Dom Kureen

As a young rapscallion stranded on an Island, my time is split between writing, performing spoken word, wrestling alligators and delivering uplifting pep talks to hairdressers before they prune me. I meditate and wash daily when possible.