George The Poet

I was introduced to the world of spoken poetry a while back but all I really found was American performers who come across quite strongly and a little extravagant. I'm not saying that I'm shunning this kind of melodramatic performance but I was pleased to find a more subdued British poet that performs to music. So I've recently become a lil bit obsessed with George The Poet. The first piece of work I heard was his latest release, Cat D, and I was pretty much enchanted from the first rhyme. He provides quite a refreshing rap style, based around poetry more than anything. His clever rhyming patterns and combination of words clearly show his intellect, being a politics, psychology and sociology graduate from Cambridge, and so unsurprisingly his work often provides a social commentary with roots in political and social issues.

His EP, The Chicken & The Egg, is also a tough but mesmerising listen that I would definitely recommend. Also, the Jack Steadman remix of Cat D is sick as so I'll put that down thurrrr. It's no wonder he was nominated for Brit's Critic's Choice Award this year (which he totally should have won). I'm just pissed that I discovered him just after he had performed in Manchester.

If you're interested some more, George The Poet's collection of poetry Search Party is out now.

 

Poetry Corner: Neil Hilborn

I'm sure those of you with a tumblr will have seen a video of a bearded man in a plaid shirt passionately performing a spoken word piece entitled 'OCD'. I remember watching it and thinking "who is this man and why won't someone love me as much as he loves the subject of his poem?" Then I discovered Button Poetry and was opened up to the wonderful world of the spoken word, and of course this fine fellow named Neil Hilborn.

OCD Neil Hilborn - "I can't breathe because he only kisses her once. He doesn't care if it's perfect. I want her back so bad I leave the door unlocked."


One Colour Neil Hilborn and Renee Schminkey - "Do not confuse one story for all stories. Do not stare at a red dot and say 'the whole painting is just one colour.'"


Mating Habits Of A North American Hipster Neil Hilborn - "Observe how they keep their faces as relaxed as possible so as not to seem too invested in the activity at hand"

There isn't much that I can add to this other than professing my love for the above performances. The last is a slightly more satirical piece that is spot on, just to finish the post off. Go check out some more of Neil's work and the other fine artists on the Button Poetry youtube channel and the Button Poetry tumblr. It's well worth your time.

You Are Worth More Than a Waistline

I know girls who are trying to fit into the social norm, like squeezing into last year's prom dress

I know girls who are low rise, mac eyeshadow, and binge drinking

I know girls that wonder if they're disaster and sexy enough to fit in

I know girls who are fleeing bombs from the mosques of their skin

Playing russian roulette with death; it's never easy to accept that our bodies are fallible and flawed

But when do we draw the line? When the knife hits the skin? Isn't it the same thing as purging? Because we're so obsessed with death

Some women just have more guts than others

The funny thing is women like us don't shoot; we swallow pills, still wanting to be beautiful at the morgue

Still proceeding to put on make-up, still hoping that the mortician finds us sexy and attractive

We might as well be buried with our shoes and handbags and scarves, girls

We flirt with death everytime we etch a new tally mark into our skin

I know how to split my wrists to reveal a battlefield too

But the time has come for us to reclaim our bodies

Our bodies deserve more than to be war-torn and collateral, offering this as a pathetic means to say

"I only know how to exist when I am wanted"

Girls like us are hardly ever wanted you know

We're used up and sad and drunk and perpetually waiting by the phone for someone to pick up

And tell us that we did good

Well you did good.

(I know I am because I said am, my body is home)

So try this:

Take your hands over your bumpy lovebody naked and remember the first time you touched someone

With the sole purpose of learning all of them

Touched them because the light was pretty on them and the dust in the sunlight danced the way your heart did

Touch yourself with a purpose

Your body is the most beautiful royal

Fathers and uncles are not claiming your knife anymore, are not your razor, no, put the sharpness back

Lay your hands flat and feel the surface of scarred skin

I once touched a tree with charred limbs, the stump was still breathing but the tops were just ashy remains

I wonder what it's like to come back from that because sometimes I feel a forest fire erupting from my wrists

And the smoke signals sent out are the most beautiful things I've ever seen

Love your body the way your mother loved your baby feet and brother, arm wrapping shoulders, and remember

This is important

You are worth more than who you attract

You are worth more than a waistline

You are worth  more than beer bottles displayed like drunken artefacts

You are worth more than any naked body could proclaim in the shadows, more than a man's whim

Or your father's mistake

You are no less valuable as a size 16, than a size 4

You are no less valuable as a 32a than a 36c

Your sexiness is defined by concentric circles within your wood

It is wisdom

You are a goddamn tree stump with leaves sprouting out

Reborn

Get goosebumps every single time I listen to this. Lyrical poetry. That tree metaphor? Just a beautiful piece of work that every girl on the planet can relate to, I'm sure.