Biography
I was initiated into performing poetry live in 1965 by British beat poet Pete Brown. Since then I've read at universities, colleges, festivals, pubs, clubs, open-mics and arts centres, including the Southbank Centre and the Hay Poetry Jamboree. Recently I've appeared at Virtual Futures London and Kino Teatr in the Hastings area where I now live. I've collaborated with musicians ( jazz, rock, electronic) and a CD 'Signs and Symbols' with US multi-instrumentalist Greg Segal is now available on his Phantom Airship label. I've also worked with artist Jeremy Welsh devising poetry videos. My books include 'The Gestaltbunker - Selected Poems 1965-2010' (Shearsman Books) and more recently the free ebook 'Here Comes the Alchemical Revolution' (Argotist E-Books). A new print collection 'Shadow Times' is in preparation. I've also written three speculative fiction novels - 'The Qliphoth' has just been republished - and various dramas that have been broadcast by BBC Radio 3, CBC Canada, RTE Eire and Resonance FM London which are included in 'Babalon and Other Plays' (Scarlet Imprint). For more details and links go to my website, as above.
Samples
THE GESTALTBUNKER In this deep shelter (a converted washroom) the furniture of survival sustains me I can work here wrapped in damp polythene sheeting only loosely strapped to my cold cracked throne| I can write my last name on the tiles in dandruff Left alone I can fumble with the four last things NUTRITION that tooth-pocked hose on the faucet is flooding my palate with dregs of plankton the world is eating the sum of its parts INPUT the grey-green egg of a cathode tube keeps me informed and well-lit with the dazzling striped light of the weltschmerz the airwaves will soon resume normal shape OUTPUT the keyboard of the teleprinter satisfies my tactile itch each word jerks off into the void I'm a poltergeist with a bren gun EXCRETION I'm seated at the end of the food chain on the site of the earth's last closet after the labyrinth of jaws and colons a soil pipe down to the Silurian MY SPECULATIONS ARE VERY LOUD Can I shield my sex with plywood from the oily feathers of the Venus Flytrap? Can I smell out my own body before the nerve gas tickles my septum? How can I hear the music of the fleas and a few trees strumming in the whirlwind before the firestorm melts these lead walls?| I TELEX THIS MEMORANDUM: the smudged drum of the printer unrolls: this is the whole picture INSIDE PASSIONATE GNOME'S HATE NEST WE DECODE PAPA DADA/TALK TALKS ON HI-JACKED SEX PLANE PLAN/FILTH TEENS TRIBE FEST/ GOLEM SURVEY FOOD FREAKS KILL/FOOD KILLS/ANTHRAX PILLS KILL/ MUD MURDER RAPE RAP/RIP'n'REAP/MIZZ PIG IS TUFF TITTY/ DEATH FREEZER/COPS NAB VD KING/CZAR DOOM STRIKES STAR/ DEATH SUMMIT LOVE/GARBAGE STRIKE DEADLOCKS/"THE FOOD KILLS"/ CIRCUIT NOISE/CLEAR CIRCUIT /J EDGAR BEAVER ORGY POLICE RIOT "TOO MANY WRONG FISH IN THE SEA" /RIOT FREUDS ROT WRIT UNCLEAR FBI NIX IRA DNA NIX ON IRAN AND GB/KGB DNA protein police food slayings/security masks death public issue DEAD AIR DEAD AIR DEAD AIR DEAD AIR I type 4 letters with 1 finger far below in the depths of the plumbing a choked spasm first blood then water brims over the bowl morsels of underwear, dental plates the sooty filter of a gas mask a contraceptive bulging with tobacco the pulp of a thousand oil-smeared publications dance on the spume of the dark liquid rush before I die, floating downwards on the quiet waters of this septic tank I'll at least be certain of the time on the kidneys of the protein clock on the golden brown crystals gather and thicken IT IS NOW THE HOUR OF THE GREAT CONTEMPT © Paul A. Green
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
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