In the second Domesticated instalment, East Anglian punk poet, James Domestic, is once again taking potshots at work, so-called-punk-rock, outdoor and indoor pursuits, aging, right wing lunatics, politics, feet, and himself. As if that wasn’t enough, you’ll also find his trademark surrealism, sarcasm, and quintessentially British whimsy applied to animals, emails, food, and the power of music, alongside his idiosyncratic illustrations, and photographs from his murky past.
A man in too many bands to count, a solo artist, a vocalist, a songwriter, a DJ, a poet, a painter, and a punk. James Domestic failed miserably at school through the distractions of music, alcohol, and girls, spent his early post-school life between the chemical factory and the dole, and somehow now has a PhD. A square peg in life’s round hole. A face that never fitted. He couldn’t care less. Come along for the ride.
“A sardonic, sarcastic wit, a penchant for the surreal, and a dynamic pace” (Nathan Brown, Louder Than War)
“Words that bite, belch, and bleed in their brilliance” (Mark Grist, multi-award-winning poet and battle rapper)
“A unique collection of poetic ventures into the human condition, with humour, anger, and a canny use of language: inspired and inspiring!” (Dick Lucas, Subhumans, Culture Shock etc.)
“Relentless” (Attila the Stockbroker, social surrealist poet and songwriter).
