March 4th, 2017

Weird, I’m alive! (demonstration)

In this experiment I got internet users (from to make a sound collage out of a Facebook chat without them knowing it. The result sounds different each time, depending on how many people are playing the piano and what they are playing. Sometimes the combinations of words are very disturbing, sometimes it’s just funny. This is just a demo

January 24th, 2017

Der Alltag

January 24th, 2017

Looking for Trouble

December 1st, 2016

pumpkin soup

New poem.

November 5th, 2016

Harmony was

New poem.

May 22nd, 2016


Another collaboration with musician Jesse Vanden Eynde who played guitar on this.

November 5th, 2015


A page from the graphic novel/cookbook I’m working on with artist Val Gallardo.

I’m currently working on a graphic novel/cookbook with artist Val Gallardo. We are working on the story together and she is illustrating it. I’m developing the recipes for the book. It follows the story of a group of friends who haven’t seen each other since art school but are brought back together after each receiving an invitation to dinner from a mysterious vegan burger franchise owner named Bingo Lovelett.

March 26th, 2015

All-Purpose Device

A text distilled from a manual for a photocopier.


March 24th, 2010

mother’s day poem

Mum and I go on walks
for exercise,

though we scarcely exert.
I give my hand
to her.

COLD HANDS, she says.
Circulation perhaps,
we say.

I say,


Dad made me a framed sieve
from wood and mesh.

Finishing up,
he said:

He left to light the fire,
pour a whiskey,
and smoke.

I stayed in the garage
making paper,
heart warm.

February 23rd, 2010

those that lived

Those that lived are greening well,
pistachios in their burnished shells.

Those that haven’t are with their lips
and tongues and hands attached
to hips and salty, green, decaying faces,
sharing airless, nailed-up spaces.

February 23rd, 2010

Protected: words words words

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Posted in My Words | Enter your password to view comments.
November 26th, 2009

Emergency Power

Photo: J. R. Eyerman, LIFE.

If my joy is depleted —
from wondering if I ought to be wondering,
and getting ready to wait again —
there is still a backup,
like in A&E.

Eyes, ears, dusty solar panels to collect:
The music released from a cabbage,
when split with a large kitchen knife;
Sunset light shone low through a cock’s comb,
radiating at x lumens per wattle;
And glassy, blue light,
exploded by the chaff of suspended dust particles in my room,
where the telephone won’t ring.

October 2nd, 2009

the first winter whisper


I spent two of the summer months in the States, mostly in Texas, where they experienced the hottest heat they’ve had in years. My trip coincided with the end of an era for me personally and I’m left contemplating what of myself I am left with.

The first winter whisper,
harsh and real,
finds my wounds,
undresses me; knows me.
No shame here.
Off with that
American attire —
loose t-shirt,
baggy shorts —
take this old cardigan.
It looks right;
it suits you.
Richard Burton won’t mind;
he’s dead now.
No shame there.

July 7th, 2009

Protected: It The Wind

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Posted in Journal, My Words | Enter your password to view comments.
June 6th, 2009

Protected: a memory is gifted

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Posted in My Words, Time | Enter your password to view comments.
June 6th, 2009


Here’s the third of my five poems on leaving Dublin.

I know this Dublin well;
it’s pouring or ‘bucketing’.
I’ll get up with the light,
make a special breakfast
as if for me and my love.
I’ll haste to get ready,
as had I a lover,
whose forehead i’d kiss, and say,
sombrely, breathlessly,
“I miss you already”.

May 31st, 2009

a pint on tap

Here’s the second of my five poems on leaving Dublin, where I’ve lived for the past 11 years. Sort of.

Two days ago now,
I left the tap on.
After half an hour
I discovered this.

Yesterday, bad too:
I burnt a pan black —
I’d forgot that too.

Last night, drunk and blue,
“forgot” to say “bye”
or “I’m leaving now”.
Feeling selfish, I,
not digging the tunes,
stole to a taxi —
asocial baboon.

Now that time is here:
Groceries have dates,
usually on top,
that are redundant
(I’ll be gone by then).
For example: beer.

But a pint on tap
is for drinking now,
or for drinking then.
“Goodbye Dublin town!”,
I might burp and say,
if I’d know that pint
were the last I may.

But, instead, I’m dumb;
It’s become my way.

May 27th, 2009

Lidl, Thomas Street

This is one of five poems I’ll write as a farewell to Dublin (doctor’s orders).

I stand
for Lidl Quality,
more and more each month.

I am
sitting now on their shelves in boxes,
waiting to exist:
Brown bread,
Bebida Soja, tinned tomatoes.

I picture myself at my last meal,
before I go off

Powered by Wordpress. Theme info.
Original content © MMIX Jonathan Beaton, all rights reserved.