Biography

Sophie McKeand spends too much time talking, writing and generally making a nuisance of herself, so she’s decided to keep this brief:

Sophie McKeand works as a freelance poet and writer. She is the Royal Pavilion Llangollen Poet for 2010 and once we all decide what this means she’ll fill you in (at the moment it consists of closing Welsh Assembly Government environmental conferences and school workshops at the International Eisteddfod).

In her spare (spare) time Sophie is the self-appointed Editor of www.theabsurd.co.uk - north Wales’s alternative culture magazine and can be found harassing any number of unsuspecting poets, musicians and artists in the region for an interview. This also includes the Absurd events and festivals which have begun to take on a life of their own.

Sophie has just finished hand-stitching her new poetry collection ‘Prophecy (Conversations with my Self) and has also written an all-new, all-singing, all-dancing spoken word set that she is currently collaborating with various artists on – expect to see the album ‘Voices’ out this spring.

In the meantime Sophie will be appearing at any number of weird and wonderful events over the coming months including Theatre Clwyd, the International Eisteddfod, woodlands, old Norman ruins and other places that she’s struggling to remember without her diary…

So yes, this was the short version – be glad you don’t know her personally, she waffles terribly…

to order a copy of 'Prophecy' email sophie@theabsurd.co.uk

diolch yn fawr

ps you can also find Sophie at:
http://www.myspace.com/sophiemckeand
http://www.facebook.com/people/Sophie-McKeand/100000291777892

Samples

the age of innocence lost

she heard the sun’s heartbeat
felt fertile earth
saw moonshine ripple across the sands of time
and in this place
this garden of Eden she existed as one

what the flowers felt
she felt
what the trees sang
she sang
what the mountains thought
she thought
and all was as it had always been
and all was as it had always been
and all was as it had always been

but change is never far away
she calls your name
she called her name
she called our name

and no longer was all as it had always been
once change had called her name

not just to be
but to know what it was to be
to dance around the tree of knowledge
and eat of her fruit was all that she could dream
once change had called her name

change is never far away
she calls your name
she called her name
she called our name

and no longer was all as it had always been
once change had called her name

and so began a new era

she searched for all knowledge and found
what it is to empower
what it is to be powerless
what it is to cry
what it is to kill
what it is to love
what it is to hate

and this knowledge
was fearless, was ruthless, was relentless
and she learned
what it is to lust
what it is to devour
what it is to destroy

and her children knew more
and her children lost more
and the children of the goddess became godless

but change is never far away
she called their names
she calls her name
she called our names

and no longer was all as it had always been
once change had called our names

and there – at the end of an aeon
amidst absolute destruction
when time himself stood still
did she know the truth:

not to be empty
to know what it is to be full
and be empty

not to be detached
to know what it is to love
and be detached

not to not know
to know knowing
and not know
is to be one…

and all was as it had always been
and all was as it had always been
and all was as it had always been
once change had called her name

(from 'Prophecy')



white noise

she speaks
white noise
she speaks

a voice existing
as trees rustle
as water falls
as the un-tuned radio
as the rising of the moon
as the earth travelling (at 67,000 miles per hour)
whispers white noise

the expanse between existences
the sound of Nothing, of death.
open your mouth -
it fills the space before you speak
it is the language of atoms vibrating
the voice of the universe
the resonance of gods
a non-existence,
erasing all life…

…as the wind devours mountains

white noise
she speaks
white noise

(from 'Prophecy')



she is it

she is it
the embodiment of
femininity
flesh splayed out for all to see
and it’s no longer just page 3
but ‘nutz slutz’
with starz put
over the one bit of flesh you’re not supposed to see

welcome to the twenty-first-century of female empowerment
where guys get laid and girls rush to gush
hushed kiss and tells
to media whores selling
cheap thrills
as the next star
spills out of her taxi
(minus her pants of course)

and then we point the finger
we love to vilify her
oh the tramp
it’s no wonder she can’t get herself a steady man
downing tequila slammers
as fans and prams wait on the other side of the door
wanting more
from her
wanting more

but she is it
and she’s worth it
the beacon held up
a cup running over and over and over
as she gives herself over and overflowing
not ever knowing
when the spring might run dry
when the time will come
when she’s not the one being chased by paparazzi
and no one cares about her new baby
or facecream
and all she’s left with is this
silent scream
this empty space where her story once existed
faded glory of her face now twisted
with wasted time

because now she’s not it
and no one thinks she’s worth it
as superficial surface fixes fade
and a new parade of women
catch the guys eyes
her cup has runneth dry
and time has passed her by
and life has passed her by
and you could even argue that she hung herself out to dry
she could have got herself a proper job
or gone to university
studied science and trigonometry
done any one of a million things except get her kit off daily for all to see

but this is a man’s world we live in, a patriarchy,
a society erected
through social correctness
where women were considered weak
told not to speak as they find
we designed pretty bird’s cages for holding fluttering minds

our predecessors fought for women to have the vote
now that’s a joke
when all we want to know
is whether or not she’s wearing this season’s coat
we should be gloating
we should have it all
we should be able to say that by now we smashed down every divisive wall
but women, we’ve consistently modelled ourselves on men
or what men want
female commodities
naked bodies paraded
as parodies of strength
and then
what?

We chanted girl power, but
we lost it along the way
we didn’t gain our freedom – we just built a prettier cage.

(to feature on 'Voices' cd)

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.