Where to find me now:

This blog is currently not being used as often due to my focus on another blog of mine. So, this is where you can catch up with me:

latenightsandneonlights.wordpress.com

facebook.com/aaronkentpoetry

twitter.com/minisixx

facebook.com/aaron.m.kent

aaronkent.bandcamp.com

A Rebel, Where's the Cause?

I recently took part in a workshop with the poet Luke Wright where the idea was to experiment with AAAX, a rhyme scheme most commonly associated with John Cooper Clarke.
When asked what we each found funny, I remarked that I always felt it was funniest when somebody makes themself the fall guy - case in point: Steve Martin.
This is the poem I wrote. It didn't so much become AAAX but instead AAAB much like John Betjeman's Slough.

I’m unbalanced, a clumsy Godzilla.

A latte made with no vanilla.

Dyspraxic zombie on MJ’s Thriller.

A rebel with trimmed claws.

Accidental ankle swingers.

My put downs are rarely zingers.

Can’t hold a baby, butterfingers.

A contract with no clause.

Tattooed to hide away a scar,

a two pence coin soldered on my arm,

the Queen’s head, carried near and far.

Steven Spielberg without Jaws.

O make me, break me, rebuild me as James Dean.

Complicate me, underestimate me, a spark to end too soon.

Hair that won’t do what Beckham’s does.

Rain whenever I wait for a bus.

Like Jerry Springer without a cuss.

A code sent without Morse.

Can’t grow a beard, it never catches,

facial hair that grows in patches

in a world of Tom Sellick moustaches.

Saw seven without the gore.

Attention deficit without disorder.

Insomnia but made to order.

Keep everything but not a hoarder.

Home alone with only chores.

O make me, break me, rebuild me as James Dean.

Resuscitate me, berate me, a life to end too soon.

O captain my captain James Dean!

Polish all my edges with sheen!

Clean the shit from my windscreen!

Give me a paddle when I’m up that stream!

And less obscene, I mean make me clean.

Fill my dreams with fields of bright green.

When I’m seen, make the crowds scream,

O captain my captain James Dean..

A rebel without a cause, but of course,

I always preferred East of Eden.

Reasons:

I looked at this blog today and it became clear that I have not updated it enough in the last few weeks/months. This isn't due to laziness, yet it's not due to being too busy. I've just not found the reasons behind updating to be strong enough, my twitter and Facebook have seemingly provided enough space and advertising capabilities to do as such.

HOWEVER

I've decided to re-ignite this page and become more invested in it. I feel my issue arose due to an inherent desire to only post poems, yet after reading other blogs that have engrossed me via poems and general musings - namely latenightsandneonlights.wordpress.com - I have become aware of the joy in general blogging.

So here to a more invested blog.

Happy days.

Music Box

A child. Alone in their room.

A half broken music box pierces

the air with children’s magic. A

lullaby. Christmas Eve. Anticipation.

Drums sound before a piano plays,

interrupted by heavy sounds. Motor

engines roar. Street racing. Adrenaline.

Power. A fight breaks out

between the beats. Leather jackets

drag race up and down the street.

Rebels. Got style. Got swagger. Trash

can music blares from where the poor

people live. Junk music performed by

dreadlocks. Cops fight crime in the

distance. A voice serenades the crowds

underneath a glorious, domed

ceiling. Rich men smoke cigars in

a boardroom. They sit back. They

relax. The child alone in its room learns

piano, a classical expression of emotion.

Two women sit hand-in-hand, side-by-side

in a hotel room. The TV is tuned to the news

but it is indecipherable. One woman turns to

her lover, moistens her lips, and says

“Kiss me.”

Holding the Universe Together

YOU CAN HELP ME RAISE FUNDS FOR RAILWAY CHILDREN HERE:
http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/feeling-hostel-aaron-kent-spoken-word-tour/x/2305073

To start with a quote, Salinger:

“She wasn’t doing a thing that I could see, except standing there, leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together.”

I like that quote.

You were born with wings,

you were born with wings,

you had them demolished,

and now you don’t feel a thing.

So sing,

instead,

gather your voice and make it reign supreme

as you build your dreams

from the shattered,

and scattered,

remnants of a future you were once able to attain.

Maintain

your ambitions,

being removed from your natural state

does not negate

the ability you have within to achieve.

And leave,

if it’s what you have to do,

to no longer be so see-through that ordinary people fail to acknowledge you.

If it’s a future you want, build it,

if it’s history you desire, make it,

if living in the present can be your anti-depressant, then let it be,

and live for the day.

Be alive in a way that enables you to stay,

and function someway.

Tomorrow never comes,

but today is never really here,

today is just a day to say the things you would never dare to share,

so SPEAK UP!

Use your voice,

dance like nobody is watching and make the choice

to smile whenever you like,

be that shining beacon of light

others rely on,

like a lighthouse to set a mark upon,

but be better,

be ultra-violet,

be UV rays that enlighten us,

guide us.

Actually scrap that,

be the whole damn prism,

be every colour known,

and then some.

But don’t forget your roots,

don’t forget to return to your home,

that place where your wings were torched

and your confidence overthrown,

and then forgive,

and forget,

hand out second chances and accept regrets,

be civil,

and be polite,

where you are now a better person,

make sure to bathe them in your light,

because what if nobody did that for you,

what if nobody picked you up when you cried,

what if nobody heard your screams,

so horrific it killed them inside.

Keep calm and don’t forget,

and if they still can’t accept then

keep calm and fuck the rest.

So here’s the message loud and clear:

I intend to fix all you hold dear,

and like I said,

just fuck the rest,

when you can’t forget first, who needs second best?

And if I fail,

I’m sure I’ll collapse

and self destruct so pleasantly.

I don’t mean to distract,

I do wish I’d explode less noisily.

I’ll be your hit and run,

aim my wings for the sun.

I’ll burn, baby, for you,

red in a sky of blue,

and it’s true, when I say, If heartbreak could sell, you’d be worth the cost.

Test me, my dear.

Push my buttons!

Cut my anchor!

Leave me struggling!

You’re on fire

and it aches

to watch you build new mistakes

but I’ll crash dummy each one

until these stitches get redone.

Cos I found it only feels real

when you leave me, lost,

breathless,

as only you can.

Set off these fireworks.

Make a new plan.

Collide with these stars.

Make this night count.

Make this night yours!

And if this all comes to a head,

and you’ve done all you can,

but you still feel depressed,

then take a break, give yourself a rest.

Because, everybody hurts,

sometimes,

and it’s ok to be distant,

sometimes.

You don’t have to be picture perfect,

every single day,

you can allow yourself moments

when you have to shy away.

But I’ll be by your side,

to cushion you if you fall,

I’ll be right next to you,

holding hands when you don’t feel so tall.

I’ll be the one stood there,

reminding you of your wings,

and the scars left behind,

and how you remembered to feel something.

And I will scavenge each individual feather I find off the floor,

and build you glorious wings,

so you can once again fly,

so you can once again soar. 

RAILWAY CHILDREN

SO, I'm fund-raising for charity at the moment, and you can help me by following this link:

http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/feeling-hostel-aaron-kent-spoken-word-tour/x/2305073

Every penny I make on tour will go to Railway Children and will directly benefit the lives of children living in fear and poverty.

Do your good deed today? Donate - if you can - or just share the link. Let's get the word out there!

Of Kites & Burst Capillaries