The Man Who Came in from the Mud E​.​P.

by Kevin P. Gilday



An E.P. of poetry documenting the experiences of a socially maladjusted spoken word artist attempting to perform at, and somehow enjoy, the Glastonbury Festival 2014.


released November 17, 2014



all rights reserved
Track Name: London
London doesn't welcome
It just assumes you've always been here
Where else would you have been?

If you can't find your niche here then,
It simply doesn't exist
A calling must emanate
From the steel reinforced estates
Or the water themed apartment blocks
But it must, unarguably

The united nations of gentrification
A nation's GDP in a city
Poster boy for social deprivation
Take my money or my pity
London's streets exist without
The slightest slither hint of doubt
That anyone would not bow devout
At the alter of this city

Land of the charm laden lad
Of rehearsed one liners
And embarrassing innuendo
Of sexual flirtations
And hesitation-free intercourse

Undeclared nation state
Sprawling mega city
Devouring all that surrounds
With self entitled land grabs
And economic hostages
While the rest of the world regards you
With nostalgia prismed wonder
Or unregulated disdain

No shelter, no refuge of respite
Just a constant primal churning
While a country sits silently contrite
Observes the wheels of greed turning
Through schemes disfigured by poverty
And palaces overflowing in mockery
I hope one day we'll again see
The streets of London burning
Track Name: Glastonbury Poem #1; Or Why You Should Never Go To A Festival Alone
Can you have a transcendental experience without the connection?
Can the frothing crowds inspire you to enlightened introspection?
Is a weekend of loneliness possible amongst the heaving masses?
Or just a symptom of my peculiar personal impasses?

Glastonbury 2014
Four days of longing
For a soul to share the madness
For a sense of belonging

I saw a fertile farmland descend into trenches
A hipster re-imagining of the Somme
I saw the hippies huffing laughing gas
At the stone circle before dawn
I saw the breakdown of society
As we formally know it
I saw a community of artists
And John Hegley do his Guillemot bit

But mostly I saw myself
As a frightened lonely boy
With no constitution to deflect
And no charm to deploy

And I didn't dream of wild sexual encounters to come
Nor heady days of self abandoned fun
But of you, in our bed, and our life together
Alright – I did dream of more temperate weather

When I said I wanted to share it with someone
Well that was half true
When I said I wanted to share it with someone
I meant I wanted to share it with you
Track Name: Shyness is Vulgar
A shyness struck at the heart of me
My thoughts stuttered out of time
A reticence of spirit that won't let me be

Brain cried out an indiscriminate plea
Let me reveal my true self, but
A shyness struck at the heart of me

When those around you converse free
But my studied wit leaves me stranded
A reticence of spirit that won't let me be

Under battered canvas I cursed my family tree
And the genes that steal words from my mouth
A shyness struck at the heart of me

I turn my eyes inside so I can see
The distorted machinations of my being
A reticence of spirit that won't let me be

So I left the temporary city of Glastonbury
Brimming with wonder, and regret, and as always -
A shyness struck at the heart of me
A reticence of spirit that won't let me be
Track Name: Found in the Mud
Did you put something in my drink?
As long as it was the good stuff
Did you see the Rik Mayall flag?
Fucking inspirational man
David Bowie is doing a secret set at midnight
This afro is all sorts of itchy
Some mud went in my hummus, some mud went in my hummus
First world problems
Just mix it in
Play the fucking bends
I'm not going back to the tent
If I go back to the tent
You'll take all my MDMA
I promise I will not take all your MDMA
This becomes the biggest city
In the South-West of England
For this one weekend
Well apart from Bristol
If you don't like the smell
Compost it well
Fear satan
Fear satan
Fear satan
Fear satan
Track Name: The Kindness of Strangers
To the old friend who put a roof over my head
Thank you
For affording me the luxury of a real life bed
Thank you
To the girl who guarded my bag as I went for supplies
Thank you
For greeting my hungover request with sympathetic eyes
Thank you
To the Irish steward who pointed me in the right direction
Thank you
For sharing a laugh, a name and a Celtic connection
Thank you
To my fellow poets, word spinning comrades
Thank you
For creating a cohesive community from a collection of literary nomads
Thank you
To acquaintances met in rain battered tents
Thank you
For providing shelter and a soapbox for my laments
Thank you
To the woman who cooled my nerves at the deserted bus stance
Thank you
For aiding my escape so many hours in advance
Thank you

Thank you
For restoring my potential
To find trust in place of cynicism
In the eyes of the wanderer
In the kindness of strangers
Track Name: The Man Who Came in from the Mud
Boarding the bus had been an operation drenched in tension
Like an insurgent surreptitiously passing through a military checkpoint
I awaited my chance and slipped aboard
Earlier than my ticket allowed
Murder on the National Express
Or at least petty thievery

As the engine rumbled into existence
A smile cracked through my fraught features
Enveloping and inhabiting my face
I had made my escape
The man who came in from the mud

Leaving behind the cultural quagmire
That had threatened to pull me under
As I laboriously traversed fields of treacle
Now with something solid beneath my feet
I awaited my return to civilization
Or at least London
Track Name: London, Again
The city begins
Homes appear tentatively
Before clustering

Then the buildings rise
Until they dominate sky
Avenues of light

It feels quieter
The sun reflects from glass walls
For now, abandoned

A charm exudes now
A hidden notion of grace
Revealed to the worn

Eyes of frost melt then
Masks of selfishness soften
Revealing humans