Tag Archives: poetry

Interviews with Creative Minds. No.16: Tim Callaghan-Martin

Tim Callaghan-Martin is a name familiar to most Isle of Wight folk affiliated with the spoken word and music scenes. Despite having spent several years of his life in his beloved Stoke-on-Trent, he has become an adopted Islander, garnering at least four personal stalkers to date; only a few below the local average.


Links and Tinks

King Stammers (Tim) on Facebook
Tim (King Stammers) on Twitter
Tim’s Pin No, Sort Code and Security Code.

Special thanks to JoCrow and Catfish Jon for the closing track – please listen to their new EP ‘Elements’

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.

Interviews with Creative Minds. No.15: John Armstrong

Deep thinking renaissance man or perpetually perturbed poetry practitioner? John Armstrong, founder of Isle of Wight based spoken word collective Chorderize, is the 15th member of the exclusive Creative Minds club.


The links

John’s (neglected) blog
Arduity website
John on Twitter
John of Flange-face

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.

Interviews with Creative Minds. No.9: Doris Doolally

A select few are able to wax lyrical about dodo plunder and endear themselves to throngs of onlookers in the process; one such exquisite specimen is Doris Doolally – the ninth victim subject of our Creative Minds series.

 

 

Those who know her intimately describe her as a festival trekking, Superman sneaker embellished, guitar-wielding poet and teacher. To find out more click —-> HERE <— and give Doris’ Facebook page a like!

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.

If job applications were honest

Dear Sir or Madam,
I want to work, and I know that I’d excel, but this is a glorified lottery;
I match all of your requested criteria, but maybe I’m just the
ƃuoɹʍ sex, or age, or I didn’t wigflip-ds in the correct order, so Brenda from Buckinghamshire was employed instead.
 

Brenda started out well enough, her bubbling enthusiasm barely containable, but inevitably the
d
r
i
p
of routine ˢᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ her eventually. The CookieMonster fades, the bright eyes dim and she’s slumped at home ~ Quirky spud boys can jam after zapping five worthy polysixes. her eyes out, desperately seeking purpose.

 
She’s a spoke in the wheel now, and her parents are proud of her for getting a gig with the

 B

B

C

  Image result for jimmy savile

they’re telling everyone they know about it. The burden weighs on Brenda, the signs visible among gossiping co-workers – she’s snappy, obsessive and quaffing cups of corporate coffee until her teeth are stained brown.
 
Then one day she tops herself,
and somebody else fills her ᵗᶦᶰʸ shoes.
Hypnotic trance pattern
Brenda’s memory fades like an uncared for tattoo. As long as everyone continues to receive virtual strangers’ validation from their sanctuary behind a reassuring cellular screen, and they’ve all got someone to shout at, then it doesn’t really matter.
            I
          My
<——point ——>
           is
            I
you can give me the job, or you can give it to the man shouting at pigeons in Wapping town centre, and it’s unlikely that anything I say is going to alter your mind.
In truth there’s probably already an internal candidate lined up for the role and this is just a legal formality anyway.
 
Employ me and I’ll be great, don’t employ me and someone else could be great, or terrible, or somewhere betwixt the two. You’ll unquestionably receive at least four million applications full of desperation and half-truths.
****************************************************************
I don’t envy you having to wade through that particular sea.
 

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.

Interviews with Creative Minds – No.6: Donna Jones MBE

Artist, entrepreneur, poet, fashionista, charitable Tour de Force and dog lover –  Donna Jones MBE is widely recognised as an integral branch of the Isle of Wight’s creative revolution.

That’s all well and good, but facing a grilling from DxK is another matter; how did one of the Isle of Wight’s premier prose practitioners fare in conversation with the gloriously coiffured stud muffin? And, more importantly, did a sweet pooch named Scoot’s snoring scupper the tranquility of the occasion? Listen and find out!

 

To get in contact with Donna either follow her Twitter, message her on Facebook or send her an email.

*Special thanks to Jodie, Sam and Brad (aka Ba.Dow) for granting permission for Kureen to use the track ‘In The Name’ in the piece.

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.

Tick Tock: An Original Poem

‘Tick Tock’ is a poem about mortality and other superficial fears that cripple some people’s enjoyment of their finite span among the gene pool. It offers a drastic change of pace from Kureen’s usually higher tempo rap-style spoken word.

The piece is best taken with a glass of freshly squeezed O.J and a clear conscience.

If you would like to have your poem published on the website, please contact Kureen.co.uk and send either a written or audio sample!

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.