The Sunshine Kid E-Book

Harry Baker

• Herausgeber: Burning Eye Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 78

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

When Harry Baker first started writing rap infused poetry he was advised to "write about what you know" so instead of writing about killing people, or driving fast cars (over people), he wrote about mathematics. It is not all complex maths and algebra however but throughout Harry applies his mathematician's mind to conjuring complex rhythms that have to be read out loud to be believed.

Leseprobe

Contents

Praise for Harry Baker

Title Page

Dedication

Where The Wild Things Are

I Don’t Know What It Is

Part one ­– Harry Baker’s Super-Amazing Mega-Awesome Gap Year Adventures: Birth Of A Champion

Before I started writing poems

99Problems

When I was 17 I went to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for the first time

59

This prime-number-themed poetry night

The catalyst for The Scientist And The Bumblebee

The Scientist And The Bumblebee

One year on from my first open mic

Desperate

As London Slam Champion I was invited to take part in the European Cup of Poetry

Real Men

Haiku Deathmatch 1

The other type of show I took part in in America

Moon

End of part one

Haiku Deathmatch 2

DIY Disco

FIFA

Haiku Deathmatch 3

Part two:Proper Pop-up Purple Paper People

At school I was always good at science.

Let’s All Play Monopoly

When you start university you have to make friends all over again

How I Fell In Love At Freshers’ Fair

One of my favourite things about growing up in London is...

Weston-Super-Nightmare

My first year of university was mainly a balancing act of studying maths and writing poems

Dinosaur Love

In the competition in Paris

The Sunshine Kid

I won.

Paper People

That would have been a pretty good end

A Team (Dessert Version)

End of part two

Haiku Deathmatch 4

Scaffolding

22

About Harry Baker

Copyright

Praise for Harry Baker

‘It’s tight, clever and intricate writing that has made Harry Baker a show stealer every time I’ve had him at my spoken word nights, whether he’s a last minue stand in or a fully billed headliner.’

Scroobius Pip

Title Page

The Sunshine Kid

Harry Baker

Burning Eye

Dedication

For You-know-who

Where The Wild Things Are

We live in a world

where being childish is frowned upon,

and most people are at their wildest when the shower’s on

and no one’s watching.

Yet still I power on.

Sometimes I like to run around the house

with no trousers on,

and go mad.

Sometimes I wish I was a nomad,

and I could travel unknown lands

with no plans,

and hold hands

with anyone who needs it.

Maybe pretend I am a king to anybody who’ll believe it.

Let me hear you wild things!

Let me hear you wild things!

Let me hear you wild things!

I want to hear your inner child sing.

Life

is an emotional pick ‘n’ mix.

It’s a balancing act trying to cope with all the different bits:

The angst-ridden bits.

The wish-they-could-stay-hidden bits.

The self doubt

that hangs about

no matter how you try get rid of it.

Sometimes,

people can be unkind,

but all it takes to break away the rain is the sunshine.

I’ve sat through hurricanes,

wishing that the sun would stay,

that I could run away

to a place where they have fun all day,

somewhere I could run all day.

Let me hear you wild things!

Let me hear you wild things!

Let me hear you wild things!

I want to hear your inner child sing.

Gnash those terrible teeth!

Show those terrible claws!

Roll those terrible eyes!

Roar those terrible roars!

Gnash those terrible teeth!

Show those terrible claws!

Roll those terrible eyes!

Roar those terrible roars!

This is for anyone who’s ever been kicked out of class,

because that’s where the wild things are.

This is for anyone who’s ever gone a little bit far,

because that’s where the wild things are.

For anyone who’s had an idea but didn’t know where to start,

or who’s gone through with something even though it was hard,

or who’s been brave enough to get hurt and get scarred,

because that’s where the wild things are.

Let me hear you wild things!

I Don’t Know What It Is

It’s a takeover,

just in time

to give your mind

a makeover,

break open

a bottle of

champagne dreams,

it seems

we’re celebrating,

the death of the ordinary,

birth of the amazing,

open fire blazing,

out from the ashes

comes the phoenix,

the remix,

I don’t know what it is

but it fits and it’s sick,

I follow in the footsteps

of heroes and misfits,

my superpower

is the power to empower,

to encourage to flourish and

nourish you with soul food,

inspire to respire,

turn that food into energy.

You

enter the café after work,

tie loosened,

untucked shirt,

and take a seat.

Removing a burger

from the bag you place by your feet,

I feel the grease

squeak against your teeth as you eat.

I

sit in the corner,

trying to absorb potential audience

before the performance.

As I step on stage,

our eyes connect.

Your mouth closes

and your ears open,

ready to be fed with my words.

Part one ­– Harry Baker’s Super-Amazing Mega-Awesome Gap Year Adventures: Birth Of A Champion

Part one:

Harry Baker’sSuper-Amazing Mega-AwesomeGap Year Adventures: Birth Of A Champion

Before I started writing poems

Before I started writing poems I used to be a rapper, as — if you’ve ever seen me in real life — you’ll be able to tell by my swagger. However, I was told from a young age to “Write about what you know”, so instead of rapping about killing people, or driving fast cars into people, I used to rap about playing with Lego, or doing a paper round, or maths.1

If you imagine a Venn diagram with one circle representing maths, and the other representing Jay-Z, this is aimed at that niche crossover in the middle

99Problems

I got my calculator on statistics mode,

pencil and protractor and I’m ready to go,

they say that I’m a loser with no life and no hope,

I’m a mathematician — what type of facts are those?

If you grew up with sums since you were three and a third,

and could be talented with numbers without being a nerd,

to me that doesn’t seem irrational like surds,

so if you don’t like my logic then just listen to my words.

I may not be normal like a distribution curve,

but if I don’t fit in — well I don’t give a s...tandard deviation,

they call me the Denominator,

because I divide the crowd like hyperbolic equations.

I don’t know what you take me as,

or understand the intelligence that Hay-B has,

but from fractions to decimals, I ain’t dumb —

I got 99 problems but maths ain’t one!

99 problems but maths ain’t one,

if you’re having number problems I feel bad for you son,

I got 99 problems but maths ain’t one, hit me!

99 problems but maths ain’t one,

now check me recite pi like Mr Palfreyman,

I got 99 problems but maths ain’t one, hit me!

3.14159

2653589

79

323

84

626

43383279

50288419

7169399

375105

That’s 51 decimal places and I’ve got a few more,

hit ‘em with the 820974

94459230781,

I got 99 problems but maths ain’t one,

hit me

When I was 17 I went to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for the first time

When I was 17 I went to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for the first time and ended up at a free show with a poetry open mic. Not knowing what counted as poetry I performed the previous piece, this time without music / backing dancers / my friend Luke / applause / general warmth in the room, but I found a new freedom from letting the words speak for themselves.

I received an email a few months later, remembering me as the nerdy maths guy, asking if I would like to contribute to a poetry night in London on the theme of prime numbers, so this is the first ‘proper poem’ I ever wrote.

It’s a love poem about prime numbers, and it’s called 59.12

59

59 wakes up on the

wrong side of the bed.

Realises all of his hair’s on

one side of his head.

Takes just under a minute to work out

that it’s because of the way that he slept,

he finds some clothes and gets dressed.

He can’t help but look in the mirror

and be subtly impressed,

how he looks rough-around-the-edges

and yet casually messed,

as he glances out the window

he sees the sight that he is blessed with

of 60 from across the street.

Now 60 was beautiful.

Perfectly trimmed cuticles.

Dressed in something suitable.

Never rude or crude at all.

Unimprovable.

Right on time as usual.

More ‘on cue’ than a snooker ball

but liked to play it super-cool.

59 wanted to tell her

that he knew her favourite flower,

he thought of her every second,

every minute,

every hour.

But he knew it wouldn’t work,

he’d never get the girl,

because although she lived across the street

they came from different worlds:

While 59 admired 60’s perfectly round figure,

60 thought 59 was... odd.

One of his favourite films was

101 Dalmatians,

she — of course — preferred the sequel.

He romanticised the idea

they were star-crossed lovers,

they could overcome

the odds (and evens)

because they had each other,

she maintained the strict views

imposed on her by her mother,

that separate could not be equal.

Although at the time he felt stupid, dumb,

for trying to love a girl controlled by her stupid mum,

he should have been comforted by the simple sum:

Take 59 away from 60

and you’re left with the one.

Sure enough after two months

of moping around,

61 days later,

61 was who he found.

He had lost his keys

and his parents were out,

so one day after school

he went round to her house.

As he noticed the slightly wonky

numbers on the door,

he wondered why he’d never

introduced himself before,

as she let him in

his jaw dropped in awe:

61 was like 60,

with a little bit more.

She had prettier eyes,

and an approachable smile,

and like him, rough-around-the-edges casual style,

and like him, everything was in disorganised piles,