Cayn Bevan

Biography

Cayn White, a performance poet based in West Yorkshire, started performing poetry over eighteen years ago (or Saturday 10th September 2005 at 9pm to give the actual date and time!) Cayn has published two books: Drunk and Incapable and Scraping the Barrel as well as being the subject of a documentary "It'll be Cayn White on the Night" As well as performing and booking gigs over the past eighteen years, Cayn is also the founder of new Halifax spoken word night Barbed Ink where is is also the reluctant compere of the evening. ______________________________________________________ Reviews: Taken from Dave- Fungalpunk A few faces arrived and as the evening progressed it was great to catch up with a few quality people. NOTE: Jim 'n' Arlene - cheers for the Rum and Coke - phew - and the sherry will be waiting for ya in December - glug, glug. First on tonight was the irrepressible Cayn White - punk poet and professional pisspot ha, ha. I have a lot of respect for this guy and his up-front attitude and likeable nature. A grand lad to have at any gig and one who enjoys the scene for what it is. His performance tonight was a pure ad-lib hotch-potch and oozed chaos and unprofessionalism. With Cayn you get what you get and within the punk scene this should be accepted. I told him afterwards that I like what he does but know that in certain circles he would get an undeserved caning from people who deem to know better. Was there anyone tonight who didn't smile with Cayns lunacy? Was there anyone who didn't find his 'have a go' attitude admirable? Was there anyone who didn't think Cayn is a fuckin' noodle ha, ha? Love it or loathe it the lad gets up and gives his all and that does for me. His obsession with granny porn and the like is becoming alarming and I am sure further investigations would reveal some nasty secrets! The banter with the crowd is a nice extra with Mr White’s performances and his 'shuffling through papers, reading out notes, conversations between recitals' approach is as funny as fuck. A crazed opening and one that relaxed the crowd - keep at it fella and remember to get scribbling and squeeze yerself dry. ______________________________________________________ Taken from: http://www.fungalpunknature.co.uk/FUNGALPUNK/CDReviews/BOOKSPage%201.html CAYN WHITE - DRUNK AND INCAPABLE I paid £3 for this collection of poems and did so, with pleasure, in advance of its release. Why? Because Cayn White is a likeable lad who has got off his arse and had a go and participating in this scene that is ideal for anyone willing to chance their arm. The previous time I'd seen Cayn strut his stuff was at The Yorkshire Punks Picnic in Halifax where he was amiable and most importantly - pissed as a fart! The obvious influences are indeed just that - obvious - but Cayn does things his way and throws in many of his efforts with a complete DIY attitude. That, my dear reader, will do for me and after receiving my copy of this book and reading almost immediately I am more than convinced it was brass well spent. What do you get for your money though? Well fuck all if you ain't already got a copy because this was a limited run that has now sold out. That'll teach ya! If you did get a copy then you get 18 easy to read and relate to rhymes that will raise a smile and many a titter. Cayn has many a good point to make and does so with a sense of the perverse and idiotic never far away. Tales of bird flu, biscuits falling into cups of tea, being trapped in a porn shop and dating a psychopath all seem fantastical but the hard edged stuff is in there as well with the poignancy and heartbreak of 'For A Friend' and 'A Glimpse Of God' certainly noteworthy. I have no favourites here as I enjoyed each and every scribbling and I accept it isn't the most profound prose to hit the shelves but it is very fuckin' real and done by someone who ain't afraid to commit to the cause and have his say. Volume 2 should be on the way soon so get them coins ready to roll Cayns way.

Samples

A Glimpse Of God As such, she wasn't much of a religious person But she did once catch a glimpse of God, In the form of a drunken, foul mouthed, abusive creature Known, rather laughably, as her husband She didn't do anything wrong of course (People in these type of situations seldom do) Except ask where he's been And wonder out loud why he was in such a state But from too much lager decended a red mist Along with a fist She caught the blow And her first glimpse of "God" Meanwhile: Upstairs, lay the only evidence that love did once exist between that couple Just the one piece of evidence, mind you, in the form of a child, He laid there, scared, frightened, Not knowing what to do Not aware of what caused the trouble Just aware that it was present. And he lay there, Frightened, that one day he may have to pick sides Between the two people whom he loved, In the way most children loved their parents of course. But it would be that unconditional love that would be the first casuality In years to come, when the custody battles and the social services Become a horrific reality The neighbours, obviously tried to help, But only moved in once the trouble was finished And it was too late But it gave them the feelgood factor And something to gossip about, Before getting back to there dull, dreary, non-soap opera like lives After all it was just a drunken man out on the batter, And no-one was "really" hurt- Were they? Cayn White 2008 ______________________________________________________ Where Ale Is Sold In the place where jokes never get old And no one gets tired of the stories told Where unrational dramas tend to unfold Thats where you'll find me Where people happily exchange tit for tat Where uniforms and status really aren't all that And no one notices that the ale is flat Thats where you'll find me Where bloated beer guts are well fed And countless tears are countlessly shed Where drunken promises are drunkenly made Thats where you'll find me When red letters are an unwanted reality When you know you can't really cope with me When you want to pack my bags and set me free You'll know where to find me When things between us have turned so bland When everythings gone out of hand And you leave that note hoping I'll understand You'll know where to find me When all your world collapses around you And you've booze and tablets and still don't know what to do And solutions to be found all add up to nil I'll never let you find me Cayn White 2009 _____________________________________________________ The New Rock And Roll Take to the stage Red in the face We're set to amaze Ready to set your world ablaze This is what we do, we're in total control This is our poetry, the new rock and roll Come to the gig and what do you find? No instruments for us to hide behind No crap, no lies, just you and me Performances packed wall to wall with energy Staying true to ourselves, never to sell our souls This is what we do, this is our rock and roll And then when you look into my eyes You see not one hidden extra, not one suprise Just a beating heart with no apologies Not an on stage politician with bullshit policies And after three years I might have gone on too long I'm still going nowhere, but still going strong Giving it all I have, heart body and soul This is what I do, this is my rock and roll Cayn Whtie 2009

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

Blog entries by Cayn Bevan

The Bloodstained Bandage (01/07/2019)

Masks (25/06/2019)

Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/caynbevan