Mike Igoe Poet profile picture

Mike Igoe Poet

About Me


Reading at Naked Lunch, South William 30th October 2007
The informationary-type vitals would run along the lines of spoken word poet, with a canon of 25 masterworks, all gloriously unfinished and fallen woefully shy of their pristine genius phantom selves that appear in my head. Along with my fellow gun-slinging type, Niall O'Brien, and an assortment of other mates, I run the enfant terrible 'Naked Lunch' poetry and music open mic at Carnival, Wexford St., Dublin. My ambitions are of the live screaming variety more so than the literary coffee table abomination variety. Dublin must take her place as poetic capital of the world. This, amongst myriad other lurid fantasies, keep me awake of a night. The rest of my free time is devoted to the prettiest guy in the world and the dogged drunken study of music. I play no instrument but my brain, I have no children that would appreciate public recognition, I live in squalid conditions with a good old-fashioned manifestation of the last gang in town, meta-memes of rolling stone and stockholm syndrome. I have a telephone number, and a desk in a small Irish finance company. I help people live beyond their means. I am growing old gracelessly. come see me smoke my dreams.
Performing 'Rosanna, You Slag!' on Balcony TV, like, totally,
sometime around the end of february 08-ish.. check the website here
Performing 'A Death Upon The Stage or Screen' at the Naked Lunch
gig in CrawDaddy on Friday 6th July, with music by Sleepy Rise
Performing in the Electric Mouse at the 'In Sight of Raftery' festival,
Kiltimagh, Mayo, on 2nd June 2007. For more, click here .
My poetry is hosted at editred.com, you can check it out by clicking the picture below:
Check out our open mic night here:

My Interests

Music:

Member Since: 13/03/2007
Band Website: http://www.editred.com/mike_igoe
Band Members: Just little ole me, and a support team of pharmaceutical conglomerates.
Influences:

Allen Ginsberg.
poet laureate of shit-stained white-washed skull fuck'd walls.

Hunter S. Thompson

The Lost Generation : There's still time for heroes.

'Beauty walks a razor's edge'

Assorted Kick-Ass Dukes

Stephen and me at Julie-Ann's Leaving do.

Addy and me at Julie-Ann's Leaving do.

Quill - She's a fantastic poet and a lovely, insightful person.
Please check out here work by clicking the photo.

It's that special bond that two people form when they
neglect a hamster together.

Partner in crime on black hearted Naked Lunch ops,
and life in general. It's called a Country Dandy and
everybody should have one.

This has got to do with circuses. Everything got to do with
circuses fills me with joy.

The camera loves Frank.
Frank loves whiskey.

Sounds Like: A confessional booth during mardi gras.
On the isle of lesbos.
Record Label: Naked Lunch

My Blog

WWJD?

WWJD? An old man stands because he cannot kneel, Thorns woven to the linen of his tweed cap. A young boy of eighty is sobbing in the Sacristy. He was born with stigmata but is sworn to secrecy. Nobod...
Posted by on Sun, 11 Nov 2007 11:55:00 GMT

Lyric Of What We Might Do Tonight

Lyric Of What We Might Do Tonight Let us drink up the nectar of a thousand honeysuckle vendors, Let us sup the pure animal fervour of the hemlock maiden's jugs And fall on the floor and make love to t...
Posted by on Sun, 11 Nov 2007 11:53:00 GMT

The Eye Of The Gouging (For Georgina)

The Eye Of The Gouging All the painters are dead All the writers are dead All the singers are dead All the poets are dead All the pens and pencils dead All the paints and easels dead Hate campaign...
Posted by on Sun, 11 Nov 2007 11:49:00 GMT

Rot, And Know Yourselves...

Rot, And Know Yourselves... Dublin your poets are bleeding on your fire escapes Broken hearted love mired and languished Dublin they avert their eyes from your lidless traffic lights Uncircumcised uns...
Posted by on Mon, 13 Aug 2007 16:44:00 GMT

Bomb Shelter Poet Army

  Bomb Shelter Poet Army   'A dead shark in an art gallery tells us nothing about death& &and, for that matter, nothing about sharks.' This poem is for that speechless shark staring glassy...
Posted by on Sun, 25 Mar 2007 17:21:00 GMT

The National Affairs Desk Is Closed

  The National Affairs Desk Is Closed (In Memory of Hunter S Thompson)   '17:50... Record #4472... Deceased... 1 Smith and Wesson .45 Caliber handgun, 1 handgun magazine, 1 spent shell...
Posted by on Sun, 25 Mar 2007 17:18:00 GMT

Lavender's Horrors of Bathroom Mirrors

  Lavender's Horrors Of Bathroom Mirrors   The steam that sticks and trickles Down the brutal honest pane Clouds a little girl's reflection And an overcast complexion As the plughole's play...
Posted by on Sun, 25 Mar 2007 17:16:00 GMT

A Death Upon The Stage Or Screen

  A Death Upon the Stage or Screen   The season holds a hollow breath and braces for a chill, The stage is set for summers death, the audience are still. And when the throng has gone away t...
Posted by on Sun, 25 Mar 2007 17:11:00 GMT