whalespiel

[whalespiel]

We’ll Meet Again - Vera Lynn (ukulele cover)

#we'll meet again #vera lynn #cover #ukulele #new years #whalespiel

[whalespiel]

‘What must a king do now?’ (Richard II 3.3)

#shakespeare #richard ii #richard the second #monologue #speech

[whalespiel]

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow (Macbeth 5.5)

#macbeth #shakespeare #monologue #speech #tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

[whalespiel]

‘WHO SAYS WE CAN’T BE GORGEOUS?’

New print available!

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#redbubble #teepublic #find your thing #new prints #gorgeous #print on demand #pride #rebel #stickers #tshirt #Throw Pillow #stationery #tapestry #pin #support independent artists #whalespiel

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‘i’m a SINNER cos i’m QUEER

it’s my PRIDE that makes me DEADLY’

New print available for Pride Month!

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#redbubble #find your thing #findyourthing #redbubble artist #pride #pride month #lgbtq #LGBTQIA+ #queer #gay #lesbian #bi #trans #nonbinary #genderqueer #genderfluid #ace #aro #first pride was a riot #sinner #deadly #deadly sins #new prints #print on demand #tshirt #pride shirt #printed text #independent designers #independent artist #support independent artists

[whalespiel]

Last night, I dreamt we were hunting transphobes

I don’t remember much but I remember how it felt to finally meet you. To touch you. To take a mission with you. Whoever you are. Awake, we are strangers. But, in the dream, you’re the stranger I know best. We trust each other with our REM sleep lives. Writing this, I try to reconstruct your face and form. But my subconscious likes to paint watercolours with my blear morning. And in the version I’m recounting, you are smudged. You are YOU. You are so much YOU. But your outline pushes and pulls as I focus on the memory.

I remember we held hands and marched through a brain-shaped corridor. We were after 2 or 3 humanoid pit-stains who dared to hurt you and threatened our new family. But we were a force of nature. We moved with an earthy vengeance. You had briefed me several times on two of these walking skintags. But there was another you couldn’t keep in your sights. As if the act of recall was a distraction in itself.

We didn’t stop, though there was no rush. Missions are slow going in a dream. Time uses the logic of a toddler and smears each moment onto any nearby surface. First, we were angry and determined. The next second, we were smiling and trading soft kisses. But then I was holding you and you were shaking and sobbing into me. Soon after, you were cheerfully catching up with an old friend, while I was calmly interrogating my high school English teacher.

Eventually, we were once agayn hand in hand and full of rage. I repeated my questions to you about that third slimebucket we were chasing. But you just gave a sad smile. And I realised that this dream was about HUNTING transphobes. Nothing more. We weren’t going to catch them, this time. This dream was about our first adventure. The time we got to spend together. To finally know each other. To kiss and to laugh and to touch.

Now I’m writing this and I hope it wasn’t a dream. I hope that last night we both had a vision of the future. And that one day, we will meet. We will hold hands. And we will make those fucking vermin squeal.    

#poem #poetry #prose poem #transphobes #dream #last night i dreamt #queer poetry #whalespiel

[whalespiel]

BUREAUCRACY NEVER ACCOUNTED FOR THE FENCE SITTERS LIKE US (a poem)

The lobby we’ve been sent to is old and from the pages of a comic book I’ve never read. It is empty in here except for two infinitely long queues of people.

On the left (mine and yours), the sign asks to FALL IN LOVE. These people are loudly violent. They wrestle, fuck and play Jenga. This line believes that there is a winner in the person who can suffer the worst loss.

On the right (yours as well as mine), the placard suggests that we should BE IN A RELATIONSHIP. They all sing on this side. Sailors’ songs. Church camp ditties. All in 4-part harmony. All dead certain of their cheeriness. An acrobat is playing pattycake with a quarterback.

Hand in hand, we choose neither side. We cut down the middle of the thought experiment. You say something I cannot hear properly because now we are in a jungle.

I hang upside down from a branch untouched by moss. While you take a turn on the vines up ahead. Below me, the LOVE line squirms. Under and over each root in their path. They have made an artform out of writhing in shit and mud and treasure hunter’s shame.

In the distance, you are talking shop with a jaguar. A scene backlit by camera flashes. The RELATIONSHIP line is full of tourists. They are dawdling. Seeing the sights like it’s all bought and paid for. Some are polite enough to pass around a rare and deadly spider. Everyone gets the chance to be bitten.

I join you in a quiet sunlit canopy and you hand me a mango. We sink our teeth and dribble sweet juice from our chins to our snow-covered boots. An icy wind whistles and whips through the mountains. You pass me back the binoculars and point out a particular snow bank to the East.

The RELATIONSHIP crowd are roped together now, moving single file and slowly. Their route seems safe enough. But they struggle hard and struggle long. No slips can be afforded. If one goes down, then all must fall – more prey for the shimmering cliff face.

On the other side of the ravine, those in LOVE have made themselves an avalanche. They scream and holler. Thermals are stripped and waved in praise of their violently vomited snowdeath. Disciples of hypothermia – they throw echoes like punches at the mountain’s churning gut.

I wonder about how to follow. How we might keep deserving them. You just return to climbing our own peak. I wait a moment before digging my hand into your former foothold. As the clouds part around us, We startle a flock of pigeons roosting on a billboard.

The evening is clear. The city glows unabashedly. We are ninety storeys up. But neither of us know the building’s name. Or the street it’s on. Or the city it towers over. Below us, there is noise. There is movement. People. There is always people. But from this high, there is no way of telling who will FALL IN LOVE, who will BE IN A RELATIONSHIP. Who walks in between as we did. As we still do.

For the billionth time since our first meeting, we smirk gently at each other. Together, we clutch the ledge. We lean out over the night’s fresh confusion. And we spit chewing gum at people.

#poem #prose poem #poetry #surrealism #dream logic #queerplatonic #queerplatonic relationship #amatonormativity #whalespiel

[whalespiel]

This fun little Cain & Abel piece was actually inspired by the prompt 'as intimate as a jaw'. Because what's more intimate than murdering someone for the first time...? So many things. Just...SO many. Literally scores of things. 

Hey, kids! 🌈Don't do a kill, please. Thanx😅 Now, I know that most versions of the story say Cain's weapon was a rock. BUT I would argue that there is enough versions in which he uses a donkey's jawbone, for a precedent to be set. So...🧐 [TITLE IMAGE - 'Skull' by MC Escher]

Poem Text:

Cain’s Choice

You kneel in the dirt. Your dirt. You lay the options before you, Now, make your choice. You have sent for your brother. And he is coming.

You hover your hand over each instrument. Except they are now just things. A thing only becomes an instrument when you’ve stained it with an idea. So choose a thing, sully it with your thoughts. Your brother is making his way.

Your eyes linger on the jawbone. But first, you grab the rock. You feel its weight. Its bite. Random edges born of a careless earth. This would be quick. It would be petty. There is no trust in this rock. You drop it. You look at the jawbone again. Is that your choice? Your brother is closing in on you.

You pick up the jawbone. You put down the jawbone. Instead, you examine the rope. You feel its angry skin. Its focus. It writhes, wrestles with your bony wrists. This would be personal. It would be anxious. There is no grace in this rope. You throw it aside. Now the choice is all but made. And your brother is arriving at your field.

You are scared of the jawbone. You don’t know why. But today is a good day for fear. You curl your hand around the bone. You feel it. YOU FEEL IT. The history it carries, that you carry, that you will soon carry together. This would be true. It would be natural. There is no doubt in the animal who chooses animal matter. And so, the choice is yours. Now, take a breath. Your brother is standing behind you.

#poem #poetry #cain #cain and abel #murder #tw murder #murder weapon #jawbone #choice #whalespiel

[whalespiel]

We Are Going To Be Friends - (White Stripes cover)

Anyone else ever get that thing when you're about to get ready for bed and your brain goes "ah yes, NOW is the time to film some *content*"; and the next thing you know you're recording a modest if mildly dishevelled folk cover? 

No? Me neither, really😅😳😶 

Anyway, if anyone's wondering, I lifted that picking pattern from Boots Of Spanish Leather (Bob Dylan). 🌈The More You Know😯

#cover #guitar cover #folk songs #music #white stripes #we are going to be friends #fingerpicking #Travis Picking #bob dylan #whalespiel

[whalespiel]

An Anti-Prayer For Godsick Insomniacs

Not crazy about how I read this. But at the same time, doing a single take (flat and unrehearsed) does feel in line with the kind of 'prayer' style I was trying to emulate.

l don't know where exactly this idea came from. Apart from feeling tired and burned out. But also aware of many others feeling tired/burned out because of *gestures vaguely* you know? And not knowing how to really connect over those feelings or even support others, let alone yourself.

So I wanted write something helpful and comforting, without dripping in too much sentiment. I particularly wanted it to feel universal, so others could potentially use it themselves. Hence, this 'anti-prayer'. It's anti- partly because I didn't want to tie it to any specific religious/spiritual practice; but mainly, it has an alternate intent. I think of prayer as an appeal to a higher power, whereas this is a promise of support to a peer or peers or yourself.

So, yeah. I invite anyone who feels they could benefit to try reading this out loud for themselves. And let me know how it goes. 

TEXT: 

Hey, you. Too-young-to-feel-so-old you. Desperate you, Who pleads for rest. For pause. For an end to the torturous and cynical applause of your used-up body. I am here with you. And with gentle hands you cannot feel, I stroke your crumbling head. Your tattered limbs, I mend with warmth. I wear away your concrete bones and brush the tragic history from your heart. This I do because I can, because I want to, because I just love how human you are.

Hey, you. Ripe-raw-blood-spread-too-thin you. Exhausted you, Who carries more burdens. More trials. All to keep your tiny piece of world from burning early. I am here with you. And with patient eyes you cannot meet, I believe your blinding pain. Your labours fixed, I cry unjust. I bear witness to your bravery and guide my willing spirit to your needs. This I do because I can, because I want to, because I just love how human you are. 

Hey, you. End-of-an-endless-tether you. Unbeaten you, Who works so hard. Grows up harder. And slowly slowly slowly storms across every stretch of life. I am here with you. And with whispered words you cannot hear, I thank you for your breathing. Your stubborn lungs, I owe so much. I suggest that you can float. You can dream. You can forgive and love and live in your own time and space. This I say because I know you can. And I hope you want to, because you might just love how human you can be.

#insomniac #insomnia #anti prayer #prayer poem #poetry #secular #spoken word #fatigue #burned out #burnout #whalespiel

[whalespiel]

Northern Downpour (P!ATD) - a drowsy 7am cover

#panic! atd #p!atd #panic! at the disco #northern downpour #pretty odd #cover #guitar cover #acoustic cover #indie cover #early morning #whalespiel #support independent artists

[whalespiel]

I Am Difficult (poem)

Reciting my first attempt at a duplex poem.

POEM TEXT 

Everyone knows I am difficult. 

Letting love go, that's my ritual. 

Bloodletting ghost as a ritual. 

Brothers care little for unimportant rage.

Don't underestimate my disorder's rage.

No one pray or beg me a blindspot.

No one plays pretend, just me with a blindspot.

Take your shot and remind me of my omen. 

Fake your shot and define me by your omen.

Lately, I've woven my feelings out of spite.

Lately, I've grown up, now all I feel is spite.

All my love, hate and questions: sitting too close.

I always fuck things up when I sit too close.

Everyone disown me. I am difficult.

#poem #poetry #duplex poem #jericho brown #performance poetry #spoken word #difficult #i am difficult #poetry recital #independent writer #whalespiel

[whalespiel]

The most romantic anti-romance poem I’ve ever written..?

#poetry #poem #asaw 2021 #anti romance #arospec #quioromantic #queerplatonic #this is not a love poem #dance #whalespiel

[whalespiel]

What We Do On Our Anti-Date (a 21 word poem)

Wait ‘til midnight

Write a play

Give lame advice

Pick new names

Fuck the moon

Confess to solitude

Swear to live

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For those wondering, when I say "Fuck the moon", I do literally mean getting all kinds of intimate with that sweet sweet space rock🌕😎😋 (I apologise for nothing)

#asaw 2021 #aromantic spectrum awareness week #arospec #anti date #queerplatonic #poem #short poem #list poem

[whalespiel]

#asaw 2021 #aromantic spectrum awareness week #arospec #voidpunk

[whalespiel]

‘i have my moments’ 

New print available on Redbubble

#i have my moments #moments #new prints #tshirt #graphic tee #motto #mantra #humility #humble #purple #redbubble #redbubble artist #support independent artists #support independent designers #findyourthing #find your thing #whalespiel

[whalespiel]

‘UGLY BUT ALIVE’

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(Black text)

(White text)

#print on demand #new prints #redbubble #redbubble artist #find your thing #facemask #wear a mask #ugly but alive #ugly #funny text #funny tshirt #woke up like this #whalespiel