Mic Wright is a journalist, writer and
compulsive talker. He was first published in the May Anthologies
in 2003, the youngest poet that year, but failed to capitalise
on his success by getting drunk and embarassing himself in front
of a party full of literary agents.
Going into poetic hibernation for five years, he focused on
writing and performing stand-up comedy. Returning to gigging
this year, he writes short, funny poems and doesn't mention his
demons. They're bloody furious.
By day, Mic writes about music, technology, food and culture for
publications including Stuff Magazine, Q, Wired and The
Guardian. By night he writes about broken hearts, pic'n'mix
sweets and crushing embarrassment. He has been described as "the
Woody Allen of North-West London" and "a cross between Albert
Steptoe and Mick Jagger." He'll settle for that.
Love kills me
I will make you love me
or kill you in the process
go for option two
Iíll be more romantic
when Iím dead
rapping at your windows
your rickety bed
My bequests to the school
I scratched my initials into the lid of every desk
in the second floor science lab
in hieroglyphics I insisted that I had certainly existed
In a textbook on chemical formula
I slipped in my well-researched equation for falling in love
itís an object lesson in cold hearts and depression.
I added myself into the index of a history book
then inserted myself into the chronology
ďSeveral years ago, Mic Wright was here, he never conquered