Biography
Cayn, a West Yorkshire based poet, started performing poetry two years ago (or Saturday 10th September 2005 at 9pm to give the actual date and time!) supporting Attila the Stockbroker and is constantly improving from that fatefull night in Hebden Bridge.
Influenced by the likes of Attila the Stockbroker, Nick Tocseck, Tv Smith and John Cooper Clarke (among many others) his poems touch on a range of subjects from the pollitically motivated to the humourous to the downright surreal.
He has performed countless gigs over the past two yearsincluding numerous radio appearances and has supported John Cooper Clarke. Tv Smith,Attila the Stockbroker, Nick Tocseck, Sham 69, Goldblade and The Anti Nowhere League, along with various other poets and bands.
Cayn now has the strongest material to date and is currently looking to showcase his poems and stories anywhere in the Uk, to book him email Cayn666@btinternet.com
Book and Cd out soon!
Disclaimer: When booking or watching Cayn White please realise that he is what is often referred to as a "Punk Poet" and therefore may be slightly different to the poets you are used to watching. His poems also touch on a variety of subjects that although meant as comedic can rub people the wrong way so if you are easily offended you have been forewarned!
Also Cayn White hates drunken people who can't heckle properly, if you are going to heckle, please try and be a little bit sober and say something intellegent or funny, that way I won't be able to get the better of you and you won't leave the gig feeling angry and embarrased!
Samples
Silly Kids games
Silly kids games
The games we'd play
Leaving our parents in dismay
Living for the moment, everything spontaneous
Mum rips her hair out telling us to act serious
But maturitys for adult and we don't wanna go there yet
We have no interest in families, jobs and debt
Happy with our youth, wild and free
But soon enough adulthood would tie it's noose around me
Suddenly found myself in a place of work
With responsibilities I just couldn't shirk
I met some of my childhood friends recently in shirts and ties
And we eached swapped stories using over-exaggerations and lies
Sat in a bar getting ever so slightly pissed
Talking about lives that didn't really exist
Silly kids games takes a whole new twist
On leaving that meeting I noticed we hadn't really changed
We're still playing silly kids games only with the rules slightly rearranged
Games of one-upmanship are still been staged
Sometimes trying to act as though we haven't truely aged
And this is when the penny starts to fall
Maybe we're not as different as the kids we were after all.
Cayn White 2008
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Seal Clubbing
Cayn White
It's Canada on a Friday night
The seals get together everything is allright
They full their blubber with lots of grub
And make there way down to the night club
Dressed to kill in pvc
Silly hats and a daft goatee
Get a stamp upon their fur
And break out into a drunken slur
Lights are flashing
The seals start dashing
Round and round
Their feet rarely touch the ground
The spirits are flowing
Whistles are blowing
A great night to be had
they're surely mad
But as is the seals curse
Things go bad and then get worse
As the youngest thinks he's a man with his fake id
And tries to get his hands on some LSD
He has a bit and can't stop grinning
Say's he'll leave the room once it stops spinning
He collapses outside in a heap on the floor
Swimming in his vomit, head feeling sore
Its a sad fate that is disgustingly fatal
Seal Clubbing, its here and its real
_____________________________________________________
When Your Biscuit Falls Into Your Drink
It should never happen to anyone, let alone me
The day my biscuit dropped into my tea
I couldn't take it out and I had no access to a spoon
So I couldn't take it out, therefore it stayed marooned
At the bottom of my cup, destroying the taste
But I hated to see a cuppa go to waste
So I downed the drink all in one
And I wretched and I gipped until the taste was gone
Shortly the vile after-taste went away
But that experience really ruined my day
Now I've had a load of things happen in my life
And I've had my fair share of trouble and strife
But one of the worst things that ever happened to me
Was when my biscuit fell into my tea
I've being mugged and threatened and mentally abused
I've fallen in love with people only to end up being used
I've seen friends get buried and others locked up
But that doesn't even compare to the torment of dropping a biscuit in my cup
I've drank so much that my liver couldn't cope
I've been so ill that doctors gave up hope
But none of that's as bad as the time I threw up
After eating the remains of the biscuit in my cup
Now you may think that I'm taking this too far
And I know you will find this poem a little bit bazaar
But for me, death, betrayal and needless wars
All that stuff just seems to pause
Call it madness or insanity
But nothing else matters until that biscuit is out of my tea!
By Cayn White
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Last blog entry
Posted on Sunday 4th January 2009 2:52 pm
The Reality Dream Machine
There’s worry among the mindless few
Which I hope doesn’t include me and you
As they’re now in a spot of bother
Now we’ve reached the end of Big Brother
‘Cos they now can’t sit in front of their TV
And watch what they once perceived as reality
So instead they still stay inside
Because all sense of adventure has since died
And now they’ve got no fantasy
For them to take too seriously
No more wannabe celebrities
Giving up their liberty
Just so they can attract attention
So now there’s no more conversation
Between the mindless few
And nothing left for them to do
But now they want a piece of others reality
And so start stalking you and me
If you feel that someone’s staring at the back of your neck
And you turn around slowly just to check
It’ll be a face you’ve seen before
The nosey bastard from number twenty four
With his video camera he’s hiding in the bush
But stay where you are, please don’t rush
Gotta move slowly and stay in range
Maybe it’s just us who find it strange
But for him when he goes home
To no wife and kids ‘cos he’s all alone
He’ll watch it back and get a craving for more
Before posting it to channel four
Saying “here Mr tv producer here’s what we need
More endless shit for you to feed
Into our submissive, closed circuit brains
In which there’s nothing left to rearrange”
And the producer will sit there in disbelief
Wondering if this genre is really worth all the grief
And then he’ll stand up and say “of course it is!
“One more sucker with whom to take the piss
With self esteem so miniscule
He’s the perfect choice for us to ridicule”
So they sent a letter to his door
Saying “Oi! Pleb! We want you on Channel Four!”
And now he thinks he’s been a credit to his mother
Embarrassing himself nationwide, on Big Brother
Cayn White 2008/2009
Previous: The Sandwich Poem
View or make comments. (1 comment)
Pete Crompton
Sun 4th Jan 2009 14:38
Rock and Roll Cayn!!!!
loving the stuff as always
heres to your style!!!
lets have fun in 2009, team up
Pete
ps you seen the rant man poet? hes coolio