Rogues Bard - Home Rod Bullimore.

Writer, performance poet, comedian and songwriter.

Rod is based in St Ives Cornwall.

The Dog Ate My Homework. My new talking book. A writer struggles with his conscience as he attempts to write a novel - questioning his past, his present and his future. Available from Harbour Bookshop, Tregenna Place, St Ives. Or buy it online here. £6.00 + £1.00 postage.
You've seen the t-shirts at St Ives Literature Festival and St Ives September Festival. Now you can buy them online on my other website: Abducted By Humans

FOREWORD - Rod Bullimore.

When I was young I always wanted to be a comedian but my father said people would laugh at me, (I soon proved him wrong ) .

I later attended University in Hull hoping to forge a career as a Journalist but my Tutor said I would never make because I kept mixing my metaphors, but that’s all water under a ducks back .. and I decided to grasp the nettle by the horns .. And that’s how I got where I am today.

I hope you enjoy the contents of this website ....

Previous works include .. Upside Downside (Poetry Collection), Little Tissue Of Lies (Co-writer Satirical Magazine), Founder Member of Kulture Brake Comedy Theatre.

Writer/Producer of Snotton TV (DVD) The Alternative Tourist Guide To St Ives (satirical take on Life In St Ives .. (see Comedy).

Work in progress. Novel .. UNFINISHED NOVELS (see Prose for extracts).

“Rod Bullimore is a talented writer who’s been hiding his light under a brothel for too long” .. Anon.

So read on ....

If I’d been born into another town
Another life, another country, another sex
Another era, or attended another school
Would I have been a Writer
And a Poet, or a drunkard and a fool?
Or a politician, a Musician
Or a drug dealer or a Priest,
A hooded executioner
Or a female suicide bomber in
The Middle East

If I‘d been born into another life
Could I have been some other bloke
Middle aged of stout import
In Liverpool Grimsby Glasgow Hull
Or living in a gutter in New York
Sucking on a bottle of despair
Or sticking a needle in my brain

Or spending my evenings comatose
In front of the telly drinking beer
And wearing a Man Utd Football shirt
With the legend “I ate Wayne roonet“
Tattooed across a gross distended belly
And screaming obscenities at footballers
Who obviously couldn‘t hear
And are too highly paid to care
About the opinions of blokes
Like him or Me or even you.
And if I was that man would I be
More content than I am today
Pouring out my Art over a word processor
Spouting useless words..frantically, semantically
Romantically trying to find rhyme or reason to exist
Apart from Ego, and the self gratification
That comes with being practised
Enough to make a string of words like this
And stuff them on a page
To be included on a website
That no-one is going to read
Or hear .. Except YOU.

Or I could have been Prince Charles ......