|
|
|
|
 |
This issue is available
in PDF for you to download and keep on your desktop for
viewing
at your leisure.
Click here to get your copy
now! (PDF zip) |
 |
| Creature-mag
is an artist run creative space published every
quarter... "we have no budget, we do it 'cuz we love
it!" We strive to publish only
the most innovative and interesting writing, artwork music
and literature
that
comes to our attention. If you like what you see and would like to support creature-mag
by making a small donation towards future development
of the magazine then please click below.
If however you are skint and would like to help out
in a way that does not involve the exchange of £'s then
get in touch with creature@creaturemag with your ideas...
we'll send you some stickers to apply unsparingly wherever
you travel! |
|
 |
|
All
tracks can be downloaded by clicking "Download
here" apart from Jordan hunt (see below).
The
Boy Witt - Tale of a lovestruck boy - Download
here (MP3 zip) If you like this track then why
not purchse the boy witts new single by
clicking below three songs for three pounds! Bargain!
Daniel
T Shaw - The Arc of the Rainbow - Download
here (MP3 zip)
Pete
Leonard - Acoustic Instrumental - Download
here (MP3 zip)
Ben
Macnair - I Think of Dean Moriarty - Includes
text from Jack Kerouac's "On The Road" read
by the Actor David Carridine. Download
here (MP3 zip)
Jordan
Hunt - Click
here to listen. This piece is the second movement
from a modern classical orchestral
work called 'Night Burst' which was written for the
Britten-Pears Orchestra whilst on a residency in
Aldeburgh, an amazing musical retreat away from the
city; I can't imagine the piece would exist without
the physical space that I encountered in the country. I
hope that by engaging with music people find a new
internal space of their own
to discover, create or simply be transported. Not available
for download
|
|
 |
The sky gapes and yawns in the morning
the dawn of a dawn
the mist drifts, conceals swiftly
an escape through the drape of a curtain
reveal the days waifs and strays.
a mixed bag of means,
a handful of beans and an assortment of tales
told and to hold
to hear or in brail
to touch
to be touched
to be healed
to take much from the lay of the land in a field
to yield to the most to be part of the many,
the sound of a penny,
pick ‘em up,
grip, grasp, hold, last
wind, draw, release, cast
aside in the street,
meet, greet, kiss feet
act strange, don’t speak.
Pity the freaks you see them at glance or at peak
we dance for the weekend
little sleep
till the mist lifts the light slips like a note
in an envelope
Gifts of dew droplets in the kiss of a petal
slope silently
no violence here
Simply smiles
Creature |
|
|
|
From a
to g or z to b
london transport
moves at the rhythm of it’s breaks
saturated with stories
no one speaks
everyone knows
the invisible cables
turning
words of steel
into words that mute
turning transporting toiling
the floating thoughts of fancy
into physical
high
street
shadow play
every bus stop tries to locate
lost instinct=
a rebel with a cause
a rebel with a reason
a reason
for a purchase
conforming
to the exclusive religion
of parading
the ever returning underground breaths a warm breath
over untold tales standing still
waiting in silent agreement
to pursue motion to pursue
the rhythm of their thought |
|
|
|
| |
As
a poet I am obsessed with words, not only because they
have the power to describe and suggest, but because
they sit, and be. They are structures that have become
commonplace, recognised and translated. They accumulate
like clusters of buildings, like cities; and inside
our cities, on billboards and buses and tickets and
signposts. They accumulate in our minds as secret sound
bytes, and rattle down phone lines straight from a
mouth into an ear. Everything they fill, they transform.
They are our workhorses, our freight trains that carry
meaning from one station to the next.
|
|
|
| |
I
think of myself as an architect. I design a poem to fulfil
its function - to communicate ideas, and feelings; but
I also design it to be aesthetically pleasing. Typographical
arrangement is key. Not only will the poem create a picture
in the reader’s mind, it will suggest shapes on
the page that enhance the overall meaning. Semi-Colon
is an abstract poem comparing a certain person’s
behaviour to punctuation, suggesting how they made me
feel. It is arranged in two short blocks of text, which
mimic the appearance of a semi-colon, thus creating a
concrete point of reference for the reader. The Widow
also plays with punctuation, particularly in the final
two lines where the brackets not only insinuate the whispers
of the flies, but also their trappings. It is not enough
for me to just read a poem, I need temporal abstractions
to be grounded in the layout of the text. It makes it
far more interesting, and more accessible.
|
|
| |
And
in one big breath I can put this all down to the idea
of space: Imagination vs. reality. It does not matter
where I am when I am writing, just where my mind is,
and where my words are falling on the page. I collect
moments and details like photographs and short films
in my mind, then I must recreate them as a hard copy
for someone else to experience. This becomes an exchange.
My imagination is made into reality via carefully chosen
vocabulary and syntax, stamped onto paper and bound with
glue. The reader then takes the reality in their hands,
the pagesrustling between their fingers, and absorbs
the images into their imagination. Every space that has
been filled has been transformed. And the thing I love
the most is that all the ostentatious language we use
to communicate our ideas is summed up in a dull, four-letter
'word'. How perfect?
GeOrGiE LoRd
skippygrl@hotmail.com
|
|
