Biography
If I was truely proficient all this would be written in the third person.
However I am not quite that person. I am disorganised, and messy. But that makes damn fine poetry, right? Probably.No of course it does. Now.
I have performed in London, Manchester, Bolton and Hebden Bridge thus far and started performing when I was 19 years old. Now I'm 107.
My poetry myspace is here:
www.myspace.com/pleonasticfantastic
http://sophsgotwords.blogspot.com/ - is my blog. Full of words, and mumblings, and moanings, and even has a Haiku of the day feature! Isn't that worth telling all your friends about? Yes it is. Don't lie.
Hope to see you all soon. I'll smile vaguely and laugh nervously and pretend to be interesting. But now you know it's all vicious lies.
Samples
****
Orange
This is an orange.
And how - storange it is.
It's curdling with juices
And it's used on cabooses.
How storange it is.
It's brimming to the edge
With zesty sweet sap
And I'm cutting a wedge
For my teeth to entrap
This is an orange.
And I bought it from Norwich.
How Storange is that?
This is an orange
That got caught in a door hinge
This is an orange
That I must say has more tinge
Of a reddish burnt sienna than orange.
How storange is that?
****
Welcome to Youtube.com!
Click here to make your own personal account!
On Youtube.com!
Click here to upload a ridiculous amount
On Youtube.com!
Of videos of you doing things of worth!
At Youtube.com!
Or perhaps you’d just perfer to surf
At Youtube.com!
Our extensive repertoire of 10 minute wonders
Our brilliant selection tearing you asunder
Anyone can upload, anyone can cop a load
Of this and that and some of those
At Youtube.com!
Look! It’s an ugly lady singing like a pretty lady!
Five star rating! Maybe leave a comment
“That videos a little bit shady
And the sounds out of sync, love Tom, Kent
Not to worry! Just dislike his comment!
Little thumbs down button, click, I win!
That’s what you get - Tom comma Kent!
Now watch my 4 year old play the violin!
Two star rating! Look! It’s a cat playing a keyboard!
Much better combination of cute things playing music
Five star rating! No! Four! Three! BORED.
At 1 minute 4 watch my drunk friend be sick!
Ha ha ha…that is very amusing to me.
Four star rating! Look it’s that gig I went to last night
Complete with shaky camera and awful quality
But that‘s the BACK OF MY HEAD, so that deserves the right
For a five star rating!
At Youtube.com!
Who’s next for a slating?
At Youtube.com
Look! That man is half tree!
At Youtube.com
Quantity over quality
At Youtube.com
Watch that man fall over!
Listen to Champagne Supernova
Swoon over Maria Shapalova
See me and my friend in Maldova!
At Youtube.com
Subscribe to my video channel! “Okay!”
Swear to it! Sign it in blood!
I don’t care if your arms’ pleading Homo Fuge
To my recollection you PROMISED you would!
One star rating. Oh that is very rich
Just because I left you a nasty comment
You thought you’d act like a complete bitch!
I’m unsubscribing to you Tom from Kent!
I think I’m going to go outside…
NO! Youtube.com demands you stay
Watch videos of ’outside’ inside!
Homo fuge! Homo fuge!
Do not leave your computer screen
Do not heave your entire being
Look at all the things you haven’t seen
Look at all the things you should be seeing!
At Youtube.com!
Watch Suddam Hussein DIE
At Youtube.com
Watch a man bake a pie!
At Youtube.com
Watch an episode of Dallas
At Youtube.com
Comment it with malice!
At Youtube.com
Do not sign out, no - not yet
Pledge allegiance to the internet
Look at the dog play bass clarinet!
Watch Christopher Walken play Russian Roulette
It’s all here! It’s all on!
It’s all free, it’s not a con
LOOK AT OLIVIA NEWTON JOHN
On
On
On
YOUTUBE.Com
****
Music of the Spheres
You know I hate to say ‘goodnight’
But yet I do with great consistence
The day is gone, I’ve lost the fight
And you’re dissolving in the distance
And so I lie as my eyes close
And drift to twisted reverie
Obligatory picture shows
Of things I do not want to see
So when we say tonight’s goodbye
And our dreams transport us elsewhere
Follow these directions and I
Promise that I’ll meet you there
Catch the last train to Unconscious
Pop the last gray matter bubble
Take my hand and let it launch us
Into Edwin Hubble’s stubble
Don’t question it, get going! Fly
Fly, fly your mind’s invented rocket
Straight into the full moon’s eye
Close the door on Earth, then lock it
Let your eyelids flicker dear,
Blow that star out, over there
Let’s rearrange the atmosphere
And hear the music of the spheres
We’re sleeping in our empty beds
But dreaming under the same sky
We’re together in our heads
Don’t question it. Get going, fly.
So remember when you miss me
And your losing all cognition
Just let your mind break itself free
And take me on a new space mission
I know I’m not right next to you
But yet we’re flying through the air
We’re gliding through the endless blue
We always are, when I’m not there.
****
Tragic Trick
I’m a little magician with my little box of tricks
I’ve got some coloured tied up scarves, and some juggling sticks
A plastic wand I picked up for just two pounds ninety nine
A jaunty top hat passers by have said looks mighty fine
So I’ve got the look tied down, I’m sure you’ll all agree
I look like a bit of a twat, to put it simply
I can only assume that is good for my career
I guess if it goes down the pan I’ll just make it disappear
I’ve read so many magic books, Even kidnapped a dove
I’ve got to grips with Derren Brown, and bought some long black gloves
I cut out some paper stars, stuck to my shirt with tape
And then found out that curtains make a really fetching cape
My new ensemble turned heads, especially in the playground
The head of course, usually mine, as the kids knock it around
I never knew that blood could come from out of my own ear
Maybe I’ll put that in my show, it’s bound to get a cheer
At the moment, I’m on the search for a glamorous assistant
Some of the girls down at the park so far have been resistant
I’m not entirely sure as to why they’re being so modest
After all - there’s magic - then there’s a girl in a gold bodice…
I didn’t get into this business to score with loads of chicks
But when I get to tie them up, I’ll admit I get kicks.
I don’t exactly know why, but Mummy says its okay
I’ll understand when I’m older, well - I really couldn’t say
But I’ve no time to worry about potential romances
My life is my career now, cause I’ll get no second chances
The stage is all set up, and I’ll admit I’m getting tense
I’m a little magician, and they’re my big audience
I’ve got to stick it out though! I’ve got to make my mark!
But now I’m really nervous, good job that these pants are dark…
I walk on to the platform, my knees positively shaking
Good thing my arms aren’t, as I juggle - and there’s no mistaking
That the audience are clapping, and I’m a total hit
Just wait ’til they see ‘the sawing girls in half bit!’
Which might I add goes brilliantly, the audience are silenced
I guess I should’ve warned them that my magic show is violent
‘Behold! The girl is cut in half!’ I announce, my face beaming
It’s just the same as on TV, except without the screaming!
It’s okay though, ‘cause I know, they just edit it out
One day, I’ll get that luxury too, that’s what its all about
I then slot back the bloody box, the audience disbelieving
Remove the lid in triumph, ’til I notice she’s not breathing
“But I don’t understand!” I murmur, the crowd silent as ever
“When I see them do it on TV, the girls slot back together!”
The audience disperses, all fingers thrice hit nine,
Coupled with my mums’ insistence that “it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine!”
I notice lots of cars pull up, I figure they’re my fans
I take off the bloody gloves, and get ready to shake some hands
A man in blue approaches me, and takes me by the arm
My mother begging him I never meant anyone harm
“Shut up mum, I’m famous now!” I say, face turning red
But in replace of the man’s grip, were handcuffs now instead
“Wow I’m very flattered” I gasp, clasped in metal
“A private showing just for you? Well sir - then it is settled”
My fan looks most confused, as I contort my arms in shapes
Escaping from the cuffs jubilant, as the gent just gapes.
“I’ve been practising that one for years!” I proudly declare.
God, he looked dead impressed, that’s one hell of a stare.
The next thing I know, I’m in his car, dare I say by magic
“Son, the only word used to describe that trick is ‘tragic.’”
“I think the word is ‘magic’, sir” I gently intervene
“Unless you were removing the biggest splinter seen…
We could begin to understand, and maybe just respect the
Completely mind boggling reason why you would dissect her.”
I am a little magician with a little box of tricks
But for reasons I can’t state, they took away my sticks
In fact I’m not permitted to say much more than I ought,
‘Cause I might have to rely on this poem later when I am in court.
****
How to say 'I love you too.'
“I love you.” - I know, me too
But not all the time like you do
I know we’re too far from each other
And yet I’m technically your lover
But please don’t call me by ‘sweetheart’
I know we’re miles and miles apart
But don’t woo me with clichéd art
Don’t take me on a horse and cart
My organs aren’t confectionary
Why not look in a dictionary?
Don’t take my hand and smile like that
Don’t stroke my hair, I’m not a cat
A twat perhaps, starting a spat
But not a saccharine kitty cat
I’m not a saccharine kitty cat
I just don’t need that pity pat
Don’t talk to me like lovers do
Annie Lennox hadn’t a clue
We are no longer star-crossed teens
We’re not Sonnet number eighteen
Stop adding sugar to the tea
You know it’s far too sweet for me
You know too much will rot my teeth
You know I love you underneath
The numerous layers of plaque
You’d see that if you scraped it back
But this is love, not dentistry,
Don’t push, or I’ll resent it, see?
You don’t have to love me like this
Don’t cling to me, you’re not a cyst
You’re forcing momentary bliss
You’re puncturing it with every kiss
I really need you to stop this
You think you’re hitting when you miss
I’m not a saccharine kitty cat,
I’m just trying to tell you that -
I’m just trying to tell you that -
I think I love you too.
****
Social Services
The other day something incredibly exciting played out in a sequence of events
There was an obstruction to the narrative, and then some sort of consequence.
This will be the anecdote of an absolute lifetime.
You’ll fall off your chairs, you’ll greet me with stares - and you’ll all laugh at the same time
And one day at a party, I’ll be typically hanging about near a hastily assembled buffet…
And one of you will cry out ‘You’ll never guess what happened to her the other day!’
Oh and I will smile, in a shy sort of way
While on the inside grinning inanely that I actually have something interesting to say…
People will look up, and begin to gather round
Someone will turn the music down, to enjoy this far more exciting sound
The sound of a girl with a slightly interesting narration.
One that is about to undertake it’s damn exciting formulation
So with a chuckle and a ‘Oh you’ll never guess the day I had..’
Which I have chosen to be the phrase to act as the perfect anecdote launching pad.
Oh and - I make no confession that perhaps I’m being a tad gregarious
All that matters at this moment is that they find me totally- fucking - hilarious.
And off I go. The story runs leisurely off my tongue at such a perfect pace
As I finally find a connection to my fellow human race
The magnum opus of hilarious party stories, will finally take place
The final frontier of social banter, my moment of communal grace
The opener goes perfectly. The setting and characters well introduced
The ‘comic obstruction’ is well observed, and humorously deduced
The amused looks on all their faces - oh they’re all so interested in me
The perfect social premise is here - a witty commentary
This is brilliant…No longer will I be the one who is so uptight
Who finds themselves a nice corner to sit in, and remains there for most of the night
Eating all the Twiglets, digesting all the out of date Pringles
Too nauseated to chat to the couples, yet still not cool enough to sit with the singles
But now I have an anecdote. My chalice of societal success.
My chance to finally make it, and to really impress!
People with mainstream Little Britain-esque senses of humour
That they all quote to each other endlessly until Ive fully developed a brain tumour…
And I’ll get to be involved in popular culture discussions! Such as the latest brand of iPod…
Or the Ithis or the Ithat…Isore, Icorn on the cob..
And I’ll get to find out who exactly got off with whom,
At exactly what time, in exactly what room…
And have actual human beings phone numbers added to my phone
Sacrificing playing Snake 3 in exchange to listening to them all drone
And we’ll play spin the bottle…and we’ll all get decidedly nude
And I’ll get to end sentences with ‘That’s totally rad, dude!’
And I’ll get to be just like the cast of Friends
Everyday will have a new punch line, or some sort of humorous end
And I’ll bask in the glory of all my new pals
Whos voices will inevitably at some point begin to gouge into the roots of my ear canals
Then I realise… as I reach the punch line to the story to end all..
This would be the social equivalent of smashing my head against a wall
So as the crowd lean closer, and the closing punch line beckons
I see my existence about to be punctured by these morons…in the matter of a few short seconds
And with only the final few words of my anecdote locked firmly in my head
I take a deep breath - and stop my words dead.
The crowd looks bemused, well of course wouldn’t you?
Ive come all this way - I hardly thought Id make it through
And the finishing line is now mere millimetres away
But I’ll stop right here. It’s the easiest way
32 eyes followed me across the various rooms
Except for some ‘whos’ getting off with some ‘whoms’
I slam the door behind me and run back to sanity
In the wake of my unfinished story profanity
It had been so perfect. Too perfect...some might say
But it would’ve been foolish to have given that baby away
And so for now, I zip up my lips
Pack up my tongue, undo my anecdotes script
To think Id almost wasted such a gem on such fools
Who gift wrap everyone of their utterances in drool
The people need these stories to relieve the dreaded awkward silence
Or else just mindlessly resort to deadheaded violence
But remember that what may just seem pretty good on the surface
Is actually delivering the perfect social service.
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Last blog entry
Posted on Tuesday 20th October 2009 8:09 pm
I wish that I was brilliant
Impeccably resilient
And resolute and aspirant
To be even more excellent
Than others that are brilliant
And others that are excellent
With mothers that will smother
Them in utter love and other
Bits of praise that lasts for days and days
Because they’re just born to amaze
And that is what I want to be
To a tolerable degree
At least, or maybe just this once
The chance for utter brilliance
And glory bursting at the seams
My name played out to seas of screams
But the good type of piercing cries
That aren’t prefixed before you die
The ones that try to sort of say
You’re brilliant in every way
But in case we all forgot
Brilliant? Me? Maybe not.
At best I’m simply adequate
And even that is pushing it
The screams are just fictitious
The screams are simply vicious
Lies that try to compromise to me
And glamorize adequacy.
When I think - I lament
I analyze every event
And pick and pick down to the wick
Of slicker wit I should’ve picked
And when I dance - I flounder
Like a dog loose from the pound, the
Style I have is just detailing
Some sort of synchronized flailing
And when I speak - I stammer.
I do not talk I hammer
Out the words like invisible bullets
And every syllable is dull it’s
Like a storm of over-used
And clichéd phrases so abused
The words don’t make sense anymore
Yet tumble from my jabbering jaw
Like chewed up bits of unused wit
That’s pretty screwed up - isn’t it?
I almost wish I’d never spoke
Or at least saved the awful jokes
For a time that never existed
You’d think I could’ve just resisted
Being just that bit not brilliant
And a lot less unintelligent
But there’s no point hating myself
I mean - at least I’ve got my health
And what’s the point in all the rife
Claims of “I hate my life”
“I hate my life”
I guess things are sort of alright
Not being particularly bright
There’s no point wallowing in spite
Despite my brilliance being slight
The brilliant ones, deserve to be
Because they just are naturally.
And you know what? That’s okay.
(I bet they’re all bastards anyway )
Previous: The Awkward Corridor Conversation
View or make comments. (5 comments)
Fassbinder
Wed 2nd Dec 2009 00:57
Hope so Sophie. I'll keep an eye out for Neal.