Biography

I've been a performing poet based in Aberdeen since January 2017. I've had successful performances at the Blue Lamp, the Red Lion and Underdog (Brewdog) over the past few months. My writing ethos is raising awareness and challenging social norms within the themes of gender politics, feminism and mental health. Most of my work is explicit, so (unless edited or written especially for an event) it's not suitable for all audiences and venues. I've recently helped to co-organise and co-host a charity performance night that raised money and physical donations to Aberdeenshire's food bank warehouse. I also hold an UG degree in English Literature and will be studying towards a Masters in English Literary Studies in the fall. As a new committee member for Aberdeen University's English Lit society, I will be helping to run and organise monthly performance events - if you're local or visiting the area give me a shout!

Samples

Dead Women Edgar Allen Poe said That the death of a beautiful woman Is unquestionably the most poetic topic in the World This silencing enables us to be raised again As muses Beautified by what is left Unsaid When we are mouthpieces Otherwise, The female nature is akin to a frenzied horse A thing most useful bound And broken By the Oedipal boy He cannot see me He enshrines me in metaphor Rather than in fact He tells me he will set fire to an orchard Just to match the colour of my mouth He wishes he could drown me In order to replicate the pallor of my skin When I am afraid of him That the torn-off limbs of the statue of Venus Are a dirty, imperfect thing Not valuable enough to him To warrant a fucking But you know he still keeps them Underneath the floorboard of his bedroom His fingers sweat over them when you are not looking He knows otherwise you might be affronted Inspired to confront this Abuse You know he loves you best when you are fucked up or silent Political correctness from those who don’t get this Says we should be categorised As neither victims nor survivors That polarity divides us We are just people who have suffered abuse As if the past participle negates the present That still the severed arms of Venus Remain hidden in somebody’s basement That, still, there are those Who truly believe That we are responsible for our own abasement As if our injuries all rhyme Our capillaries popped on purpose - You wanted this, You asked for this. If you are a mentally unwell woman They will tie your art back to your crazy As if the only interesting thing about me politically Is that a man who might have looked like you Sexually assaulted me As if the finger-tip bruises on my thighs On my breasts Colluded together My experience is a lie Dependent on its re-telling Upon another’s bodily autonomy Who can describe female sexuality So much better than me I will stop writing about sexual trauma The moment an ashtray Deeming himself profound Stops picking us to play his Eden Stops ripping off the arms of Venus And hiding them under his bed Stops describing poetry as beautiful women dead.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Blog entries by Rebecca Clark

From Speakin' Weird 12/07/17 (20/07/2017)

Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/rebeccaclark