Martin Grey doing the honours:

The evening of November 13^th 2014 was unseasonably mild, not because of the instability of the gulf stream due to climate change, but because it was the night of the latest DIY Poets event. After all, what better way to while away a late autumn evening than with some of Nottingham’s finest poets? Exactly.

Our leader, compere and guru, Frank McMahon, waited for the audience to filter in before kicking things off, explaining that each poet has seven minutes to do their thing. Failure to keep time would get you the white light of enlightenment, while failure to heed the white light would get you the red light of shame. Versatile things, those bike lights.

First up was Orla, who regaled us with stories of love, loss and relationships through elusive friendships, the time she met an American ex-soldier in Brussels, lettuce, Algerian World Cup games and taking her housemate’s banana on a tour of the peak district. Orla delivered darkness with subtlety, innuendo and ferocious mellowness, while the darker it got, the happier you seemed to become. A great start to the show.

“Days are not going to plan” proclaimed our next poet, Lytitia, who explained why she has to finish any book she starts, even if she doesn’t like it, before reading a trilogy of short poems about endings. “V is for Vengeance” told a story of helplessly watching a V1 bomb about to land, while she finished on a Spike Milligan piece called “Small Holes in the Sky”. A gentle and tender set delivered like a pro.

The first third concluded with A Sole, reading from one of his many, many books. A Sole crams in conflicting metaphor like a rush hour tube train crams in suits. From “Mad Mohan”, a story of Mohammed marrying a six year old girl, to “The Day Breaker”, Michigan based metaphor on the human condition, to “Lowry”, about a trip to an art gallery and the unknown soldier, you’re left wanting to buy the book so you can get lost in the words and try and work out what it all means. Some people did.

At DIY Poets, we’re aware that being able to get a beer without missing any of the poetry is important, so after a short break it was my turn. I started by talking about the Podemos political revolution that’s currently taking place in Spain. Podemos is Spanish for “We can”, which I parodied in “We Can”, about how in Britain it seems that we can’t. I followed up with “We Could Start a Revolution”, about how we could all inspire each other to make a better future, because if they can do it in Spain, we can too.

The crowd continued to trickle in as Clare confidently took to the stage, to ask us about what you do with anger and how you stop it. All of Clare’s pieces were laced with nostalgia, from linking the Windsor Castle fire and the first women priests to a difficult childbirth in “Annus Horriblus 1992”, to the times she skived off school to paint with her Mum. With the crowd in a quiet reminisce, she finished with “We Were Gentle”, a brutal counter attack on the government’s assault on our values and cherished institutions. Perfectly timed and perfectly delivered.

The newest performer of the night, Julian, was next. Making his second appearance, but already seeming accomplished on the stage, he read a long piece from the point of view of an internet troll, called “The Factor of My Emptiness”. With a quiet delivery combined with heavyweight lines of “sadomasochistic psychic warfare”, mixed with references to fighting and general thuggery, the frightened, confused troll within all trolls was effortlessly dissected.

After another quick break, our leader, Frank, was introduced, proclaiming with a cheeky smile that as the bike lights were in his pocket, the rules didn’t apply to him. Frank showed yet again that he is a master of the short poem, as he rolled through piece after piece about childhood disappointment, from discovering that cupboards didn’t actually lead to Narnia, to psychopathic PE teachers and old rock clubs becoming supermarkets. “Doctor Who Childhood” touched on the vulnerability of only having one heart, while “First Hero Beginning”, about Hurricane Higgins, told of how our heroes are just as vulnerable as we are.

Frank was swiftly back on stage, to introduce the penultimate poet, John, who promptly professed that poetry is better than therapy because therapy costs £45 an hour. It was a frank and touching set, including “The Lost Chord”, a beautiful piece about the prevalence of dementia and having to put family members into a nursing home. The only duet of the night came in “Menorca”, about being in paradise but for some reason missing Nottingham, with Lytitia providing the backing. John always delivers with a swagger and can make a laugh from almost anywhere. A top notch set.

All of which brought us to the main event. Andy Szpuk. Feature poet. The feature poet slot is a great opportunity to do something extra special and Andy certainly didn’t disappoint. Starting by asking if we were feeling Christmassy (we think he already knew the answer), he went into a bold and underreported take on the Ukrainian conflict, with “Riot Shield for Christmas” and “Kremlin Christmas Pantomime”, into witty and subtle dissections of the characters and political influences on the war. From “Putin the Movie”, pondering who would best play the Putin character and deciding on David Bowie, to “Back in the USSR” – baby you can drink my Vodka, the political ridiculousness of the conflict was wonderfully exposed. Andy also told us about when he almost bought a Hawaiian shirt, a self-referencing piece about when he first joined the DIY poets and felt he needed a fashion quirk to go with the ‘Street Sinatra’ of Frank or the “Hippy Earth Mother” of Clare. A sterling performance. Andy’s poems are definitely hot to Trotsky.

Then it was up to Ital Pip to play out the show. With his green acoustic guitar, harmonica and songs like “Storm in a Teacup”, via a proclamation of “Anyone that expresses from the heart is a very brave and honourable person”, it was impossible not to sway to the warming chords and wistful words while we finished our beers. Through songs inspired by an old mate called Phil, to covering Neil Young and Joe Strummer’s “Rock Art and the X Ray Style”, via a poem about trying to quit smoking, some words summed up the night. “Words can change the world”. Yes, indeed they can.

So that was pretty much that. We were silly and we were sombre. We were angry and we were amazed. Also, of course, were nice and we didn’t always rhyme.

Roll on February!