.
The kindest thing I'll say about today is,
my choice to start it off
with a 3 hour documentary on the Holocaust,
probably didn't help.
_____________
-Peace
.
Poetry without pretense. Occasionally with spell checking.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Randall and Smarty Are Taking You For A Ride
.
Some flyers to prmote our upcoming gig at the Dan O Connell:
After their microphones were taken away,
after the money ran out,
after using up the bar tab before going on stage,
counting the number of berets in the crowd,
getting lost on the way to Lismore,
...watching that uninsured windscreen crack get bigger and bigger (and bigger),
after talking philosophy with teenagers at the drive through,
sleeping on the platform waiting for the first train
seeing the best, and worst, performance poets in Australia,
and after visiting Wagga Wagga...
...Steve Smart and Randall $tephens have some stories to tell you.
The two poets who turned the word ‘fuckhead’ into a verb, are now bringing their sleep-deprived synergy developed on the road together back home, as the “Taking Arses and Kickin' Names” tour comes to Melbourne.
A few things will make this Dan O Connell gig special. Because this is Randall’s last Melbourne appearance before embarking on an epic two-month solo tour of New Zealand in early 2011, we’ll be passing around the hat (yes, THE hat!) to help keep him away from us as long as possible.
Also, we’re going to record the event on our brand new whiz-bang crackerjack fancy-pants recorder, for the next CD release. So come along for the chance to have the sound of your confusion, disgust and outrage immortalised in a 4 track, 24-bit 96kHz digital recording.
Tremendous. See you there!
______________________________
-Peace
.
Some flyers to prmote our upcoming gig at the Dan O Connell:
After their microphones were taken away,
after the money ran out,
after using up the bar tab before going on stage,
counting the number of berets in the crowd,
getting lost on the way to Lismore,
...watching that uninsured windscreen crack get bigger and bigger (and bigger),
after talking philosophy with teenagers at the drive through,
sleeping on the platform waiting for the first train
seeing the best, and worst, performance poets in Australia,
and after visiting Wagga Wagga...
...Steve Smart and Randall $tephens have some stories to tell you.
The two poets who turned the word ‘fuckhead’ into a verb, are now bringing their sleep-deprived synergy developed on the road together back home, as the “Taking Arses and Kickin' Names” tour comes to Melbourne.
A few things will make this Dan O Connell gig special. Because this is Randall’s last Melbourne appearance before embarking on an epic two-month solo tour of New Zealand in early 2011, we’ll be passing around the hat (yes, THE hat!) to help keep him away from us as long as possible.
Also, we’re going to record the event on our brand new whiz-bang crackerjack fancy-pants recorder, for the next CD release. So come along for the chance to have the sound of your confusion, disgust and outrage immortalised in a 4 track, 24-bit 96kHz digital recording.
Tremendous. See you there!
______________________________
-Peace
.
Friday, November 12, 2010
June Twenty Two (4th redux) -28/11/2010
.
It found you, again.
Walking the night
in another city
you'd never been before
yet looking
like so many others
you’d been to
since June twenty-two.
The date
that you
left her.
Now this lonely planet
bookshelf blur
of single serve countries
of long forgotten lessons
from phrasebook collections
and you’ve lost count
of their exact
numbers now
how many foreign tongues
have you gotten tied with?
how much have you
misunderstood
bluffed your way through
de-creased in the map folds
the passport pages dog eared
the blank stares you’ve coffee stained
how much time lost or gained
in time zone changes?
You long ago quit counting.
Without doubt
you must have walked down
hundreds of such strips by now
stretching back further
than you can remember
but never
have you failed
to retain this date,
today’s date.
June Twenty Two.
Before then you’d never pursued
the taste of foreign food
never sought sights Saharan
Himalayan Mediterranean
metropolitan cosmopolitan
never knew the freedom
of forty eight hour friends
light but for the weight of a pack
no ball and chain holding you back
you’ve beaten back the beaten track
no home except where you hang your hat
go it alone instead of taking out a loan
no mortgage on your future
you live cash and carry
question and answer
living affirmation and hopes
reasons and regrets
right out of your system
and right around the globe.
Despite a do-before-you-die list
now carved down by half
tonight your eyes can’t help
but pave new paths
all over with old memories
your confusion
of those old feelings
too consuming
to have sustained
too childish
to have lasted
too sincere
to have survived
too real
to have forgotten
or ever really gotten over
no matter where you go
the world over.
The date eventually rolls round
three years now
since leaving after that final-fight
to go and find out she was...
wrong.
Said amongst the latter
and bitterer
blows you exchanged
she uttered, (almost a whisper)
a kind of curse
and worse
than any other thing
she tried to put on you
that June Twenty Two,
Angry tears welled in her eyes
fell defiant as she prophesised
that
for all your living
outside the box
no matter what
you won’t ever,
you would never,
now and forever
be able to find
another woman
like her.
and...
She
was wrong
about
everything.
She was wrong about everything,
except that.
__________________________
-Peace
.
It found you, again.
Walking the night
in another city
you'd never been before
yet looking
like so many others
you’d been to
since June twenty-two.
The date
that you
left her.
Now this lonely planet
bookshelf blur
of single serve countries
of long forgotten lessons
from phrasebook collections
and you’ve lost count
of their exact
numbers now
how many foreign tongues
have you gotten tied with?
how much have you
misunderstood
bluffed your way through
de-creased in the map folds
the passport pages dog eared
the blank stares you’ve coffee stained
how much time lost or gained
in time zone changes?
You long ago quit counting.
Without doubt
you must have walked down
hundreds of such strips by now
stretching back further
than you can remember
but never
have you failed
to retain this date,
today’s date.
June Twenty Two.
Before then you’d never pursued
the taste of foreign food
never sought sights Saharan
Himalayan Mediterranean
metropolitan cosmopolitan
never knew the freedom
of forty eight hour friends
light but for the weight of a pack
no ball and chain holding you back
you’ve beaten back the beaten track
no home except where you hang your hat
go it alone instead of taking out a loan
no mortgage on your future
you live cash and carry
question and answer
living affirmation and hopes
reasons and regrets
right out of your system
and right around the globe.
Despite a do-before-you-die list
now carved down by half
tonight your eyes can’t help
but pave new paths
all over with old memories
your confusion
of those old feelings
too consuming
to have sustained
too childish
to have lasted
too sincere
to have survived
too real
to have forgotten
or ever really gotten over
no matter where you go
the world over.
The date eventually rolls round
three years now
since leaving after that final-fight
to go and find out she was...
wrong.
Said amongst the latter
and bitterer
blows you exchanged
she uttered, (almost a whisper)
a kind of curse
and worse
than any other thing
she tried to put on you
that June Twenty Two,
Angry tears welled in her eyes
fell defiant as she prophesised
that
for all your living
outside the box
no matter what
you won’t ever,
you would never,
now and forever
be able to find
another woman
like her.
and...
She
was wrong
about
everything.
She was wrong about everything,
except that.
__________________________
-Peace
.
Known -13/11/2010
.
You know
I'd do it too.
bring it all to an end
taunting you
give me a reason
one fucking reason
not to
just quit
but I know
already
you won't give me one.
so I sit back down
get to work, again
and wait
for another day
to liquidate this silence.
___________________
-Peace
.
You know
I'd do it too.
bring it all to an end
taunting you
give me a reason
one fucking reason
not to
just quit
but I know
already
you won't give me one.
so I sit back down
get to work, again
and wait
for another day
to liquidate this silence.
___________________
-Peace
.
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