This chapbook consists of 11 free verse poems by Bristol writer Mark Anthony Pearce. The poems are clear, accessible and typically illustrate through anecdotes, his direct experiences.
Pearce says in the interview which follows this short review, “Yes, much of what I write is based on my observations and experiences. It’s essentially diaristic, my own private personal history, a record of my life.”
Pearce often writes about the pain and horror and the madness he sees in his streets. In ‘ANOTHER MARTIN’ the persona, presumably Pearce, finds a drunk or stoned guy unconscious on the sidewalk, in ‘TWO BROTHERS’ he graphically recalls a vicious machete stabbing, and in the third person poem ‘SEXUAL STEALING’, he explores in a matter of fact way, the sexploitation of the homeless.
The poem ‘A HISTORY OF DEATH’ offers another side to Pearce’s work. It is humorous, but in a grim way. It recounts a visit by the author to a bookshop. His use of non-stanza, dissected prose is characteristic of his poetry:
A HISTORY OF DEATH
By Christ!
You should
Have seen me!
Feeling smug
With the books
Clutched tightly
In my grubby
Slimy hands
Yet another memoir
About some
Holocaust survivor
That won a Nobel Prize
The Story of Irish Art
And another
History of Death
I overheard
The book store owner
Talking about
Classical Guitarists
There just seemed
Too many Julian Bream
Pre owned records
Out there
And too many
In his shop
They are like
This new variant
You can’t
Shake them off
It seems
Once he saw
What I was
Going to buy
He changed
The topic
I felt ever
So important
‘Cheerful reading!’
He made a point
Of saying
Any books
He suggested
About Death
Would be ideal gifts
In any Christmas stocking
‘These books
are for me and
no one else!’
I felt like saying
Plenty of
Future reading
With the Grim Reaper
I sincerely hope
Perhaps the most memorable poems in the chapbook derive from Pearce’s observations of the people he comes across on the street. The people are usually deranged or fucked up in some way. ‘THE CLEANER WHO HATES MEN’, ‘THE BEST A MAN CAN GET’ and ‘I SAW IT (YO LO VI)’ reveal people with deep set psychological conditions- paranoia, a Messiah complex- but usually these illnesses are best left undefined.
Asked about his fascination with the theme of madness, Pearce says, “I have enormous misgivings about myself as a human being. Everything is interesting to me though, it’s all fascinating. I do always hope there is some compassion and humanity in what I write. Perhaps my Catholic upbringing has had an influence that way. I can understand how it could also be read as downright exploitative and problematic though, but there’s paradox for you.”
Particularly compelling is Pearce’s poem ‘FREEDOM!!!’ The term has been recently weaponised by politicians- even here in Oz with Clive Palmer’s United Australia Party, who have cynically used it as a slogan to promote his own personal brand of fascism. In Pearce’s poem, the word takes on an ironic twist- a mad fucker raises his right fist as he rides his bicycle outside a supermarket. Surely, keep AR-15s away from folks like this!
FREEDOM!!!
‘We are spying on you
For your own safety
We are controlling you
For your own safety’
He keeps repeating
To himself
Pacing back and forth
Outside the supermarket
Eventually getting
On his bicycle
Pedaling it
Through Autumn leaves
Monday’s sunshine
Bouncing off
His smiling face
His shiny serrated teeth
‘FREEDOM!!!’
He shouts
Raising his
Right fist in the air
The title poem ‘HAPPY NEW YEAR ELLSWORTH GRIFFIN!’ is related to a personal incident that Pearce will probably want to forget- being scammed out of thousands of dollars. He says of the scam, “The poem is more or less verbatim. Last year I was scammed over 4,000 pounds which I write about in ‘A Smile As Sad As Sunday’. What an idiot I often am. Thankfully the bank refunded me for my stupidity.”
HAPPY NEW YEAR. ELLSWORTH GRIFFIN!
He told me
That his name
Was Ellsworth Griffin
A high ranking
Justice department official
From the FBI
He was pleased
To inform me
That there were funds
Available to be
Delivered in cash
To my home address
Which may have
Been lost to scammers
‘Let me know
How you feel about that’
He said
‘Mark Twain is dead’
I replied
‘And I’m not
Feeling too well myself
The cover was created by the artist Seth Guy. It features two representations of Mark Twain pointing a revolver at each other. Between them stands a large seal of the F.B.I.
Pearce says of Guy's creation, “Seth is a dear friend of mine and I immediately adored his response to this collection. It reminds me curiously of Warhol’s ‘Double Elvis’. It continues to surprise, delight and amuse. Seth got the bizarre humour, absurdity of it all I suppose."
Pearce’s poems are gritty and are based on real experience. There is a raw simplicity to his work which reflects an inner truth and a vibrant human spirit.
Purchase between shadows press products through big cartel here: https://betweenshadowspress.bigcartel.com/products?sort=date_old_to_new&page=2
Also by Mark Anthony Pearce ‘She Smells Dead People’:
https://hickathriftpress.bigcartel.com/product/she-smells-dead-people-by-mark-anthony-pearce
INTERVIEW WITH MARK ANTHONY PEARCE 30 MAY 2022
How long have you been writing poetry and who are some of your influences?
One of the very first poems I remember writing was titled ‘The Battlefield’ I must’ve been about nine or ten when I wrote it. My late father helped me a great deal in its composition. I imagined myself as a member of the common soldiery fighting in some battle of the Middle Ages. I bizarrely read the poem aloud on a local radio station. I can also remember writing a poem about the History of Water. History has always been my first love.
I foolishly still think of myself as a sort of Historian in my ‘poetry’ but I’ve always been a relatively simple sort of clod, lacking intellectual rigor, erudition and ambition.
I spent much of my teenage years writing in retrospect all sorts of drivel, pseudo poems and pretentious song lyrics. I sometimes question whether I’ve improved all that much to be honest. My so-called poetry now stems to when I was 20 years old in August 2006 and find myself writing work that I that I still reluctantly recognise as my own voice.
I like this quote from Thoreau, which I strongly relate to:
‘Poetry is a piece of very private history which unostentatiously let’s us into the secret of a man’s life’.
I think it is important to recognise my early influences as my family, primarily My grandfather. My grandfather was an Irishman from Dublin a great storyteller, who enjoyed sharing jokes and reciting Poetry from his youth. I will always treasure his interpretations of Charles Dickens ‘The Ivy Green’.
‘Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green/ That creepeth o'er ruins old!’
School was also important, I enjoyed encountering poetry from an early age. I participated in various festivals where I would later win prizes much to my embarrassment these days. I won Medals and Cups for recitations of the poetry of Christopher Mann, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and John Masefield. I had harboured to varying degrees until my early 20’s the possibility of becoming an Actor! ‘Lord, what fools these mortals be!’
Not long after my father died I must’ve been about 15 or 16, I discovered a copy of ‘Hitler Painted Roses’ by Steve Richmond at a car boot sale in Somerset. Reading this book was a total revelation and remains one of the reasons I’ve kept writing all these years. The earthy, raw, scatological, often erotic words of Richmond, I found myself relating to. A great deal. It changed my life.
Do you usually write about your experiences, including the people you come across on the street?
Yes much of what I write based on observations and experiences. It’s essentially diaristic, My own private personal history, a record my life.
Your long-term mate Seth Guy composed the cover. Can you briefly explain why you chose this image and how it works for the collection?
Seth is a dear friend of mine and I immediately adored his response to this collection. It reminds me curiously of Warhol’s ‘Double Elvis’. It continues to surprise, delight and amuse. Seth got the bizarre humour, absurdity of it all I suppose.
https://www.sethguy.co.uk/Seth_Guy/Home.html
I am curious about the title poem, what is it about? Is it about a scammer who contacted you?
It was inspired by a random What’s App message I received. The poem is more or less verbatim. Last year I was scammed over 4,000 pounds which I write about in ‘A Smile As Sad As Sunday’. What an idiot I often am. Thankfully the bank refunded me for my stupidity.
I note that a few poems in your chap you write about homeless people with mental illness. Why the fascination?
I have enormous misgivings about myself as a human being. Everything is interesting to me though, it’s all fascinating. I do always hope there is some compassion and humanity in what I write. Perhaps my Catholic upbringing has had an influence that way. I can understand how it could also be read as downright exploitative and problematic though, but there’s paradox for you.
What's next for you?
To get on with the business of living and try not to be too much of a nuisance in the process.
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