Edward Hughes

Biography

Part-time Poet moved by a Muse who encourages my output of bad verse as therapy. Not a natural Performer but have given it a go when pressed. Result- unsatisfactory. But, I love to listen to 'writers like me' reading their stuff out loud in a supportive arena. 'Slams' ain't my thing. Currently trying to inflate a dirigible of Poetry Performance at the Red and Green Club in Milnsbridge, near Huddersfield.Not sure it's our copyright, but we're calling the monthly night 'Risk A Verse'.

Samples

Cry ‘Seize!’ The day carps Its catalogue, Laying out for me a series of complaints Around my assumed failure. In retaliation, I put the day under arrest, And take it away, to a secret destination, For interrogation. All those traitor days that went unpunished Will see now that I mean business. ‘Who are you working for?’ The day maintains a stubborn silence. I slap day across his sneering face, And kick his chair away, Sending him sprawling to the floor. He’s not so cocksure now. Sensing weakness, A hint of fear, I kick him mercilessly, Just to hear him beg me to stop. I’ve seized the day, And knocked him into shape. He won't be heard of again. Edward Hughes News From Nowhere. I'm telling you now, I'm done with Poetry. The last straw was something to do With me thinking About loose bowel mouths, And whatever it was, Probably words, Dripping. And then there's the shamelessness of it all. I was thinking there could be no excuse For obscenity that's tedious. Yes,that was it. I'm sure I imagined a reader, If there ever was one, Crawling up the wall... While we're at it, Philosophy's history too. The living end was Reading an old Nazi on 'The Death of Cod'. Heidegger , in gothic rumination, Around a mad Professor's pronouncement. I thought, as if There's meaning in sentences About unchained earth, Rubbed out Horizons, and washed down seas. I wont even go there On the subject of the alleged, but as yet unheralded, Assassination of the Pelagic, Or was it the Deity...? Don't talk to me about Religion! Yesterday,I suddenly took to praying. I was gabbling a petition. The dog was concerned, She being a sniff driven Secularist. I thought this was going beyond the vulgar, And straying towards affront. I told God I was sorry, But that it wouldn't happen again. I think He forgave me, Though you never can be sure. I put up my defences By replaying,in my head, A City scoreless draw...... I'm done with pretending, Well..,pretending anything at all. Knowledge 0- Insight 0. Posturing 5- Authenticity O. ( Artless Diatribe got his fifth hatrick of the season, And Voice was sent off for dissembling other peoples' pain) More results later. Do you know, I can't even resort to my normal getout, 'Nobody, Nowhere, Nothing..', stuff like that, Let's face it,I'm just a twat. Dog's nodding. Finally, Late Result from the Stadium of Solipsism; Match abandoned due to thinking in circles.... As I say, I'm done with Poetry... Edward Hughes

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