In the office we’re getting excited about the Drum With Our Hands Showcase. Inparticular, what DRKMTR will create given the majesty of St Giles.
If you’re unaware of DRKMTR, I won’t spoil the suprise for you, nor do them a disservice, by fumbling for words to competently describe the music-meets-art-meets-poetry experimentation. (Though Damp Cardigan gave it a good punt a couple of months back).
The poetry aspect of the collection is confidently delivered by The Absurds Sophie McKeand. Below you’ll find some of her work, taken from her book, “Prophecy (Conversations with my Self)”
Lost & Found
She is waiting.
Find her.
Leave the mind’s privet hedges;
gardens grown gracefully,
controlled.
Walk past thought’s flowerbeds;
carefully chosen colours
blooming.
Step from narrative pathways,
break bearings, become
loose, lost.
She is waiting.
Find her…
in the wilderness beyond ordered thoughts
in the blackness of midnight skies
in the warning-song of crows
smash through the gate of conscious thought
throw caution to the wind
embrace darkness
hear white noise
she is waiting
find her
for the trees
there was a place she visited once
with forests that s t r e t c h e d
planted
regimented
ruled
and when she spoke
the trees did not know her
and when she spoke with the voice of the mountain
the trees did not know themselves
and she raged
and mountains wept
for the soulless trees
Tides (Part 2)
change is here
and who knew?
(when nobody could know)
and who saw?
(when nobody could see)
and whose testimony will be read
when the light goes out?
(I keep no records)
the brightness
scalds retina
a memory
in defiance of death
(when nothing escapes)
is this the last
are these the last
here are the last days
embraces
not great enough
(could anything have been great enough?)
to hold steady these souls
when the wave of change
swallows
engulfs
devours
I would have told you
(if I’d have known)
I could have held you
(if I knew)
I should have felt
the tides ebb and fade
ebb and fade
ebb and fade
away
and all the money in the world
cannot buy
and all the tea in china
cannot replace
what was there
is not there
no longer here
swept out from under the carpet
and into the long dark night
satisfaction
for the dissatisfied soul –
embrace change
open the floodgates
drown
(washed clean)
to be
and to never be
(although stillness can be found in the heart of a lake)
oh to be a lake
of such tiny proportions
a raindrop
a penny
raining unspoken
for each emotion
(and thought)
greater
than the “storm in a teacup” –
how presumptuous
how preposterous
(when the moon shone I knew better)
anger does not hold me
regret does not cloak me
memories do not choke me
but change calls me
into the dawn
where once you held me
where once you knew me
where once you saved me
could I lie here
and stay forever?
The first DRKMTR album (work has begun on the second) can be found and purchased on the Drum With Our Hands bandcamp, as can Prophecy.
