tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38529932011-12-16T02:14:04.723+08:00werds built into packets now : : by antipoet/allanboyd perth_western.australiaantipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.comBlogger2711100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-76212240185006198912011-12-16T02:14:00.000+08:002011-12-16T02:14:04.740+08:00

channelling better stronger faster we can rebuild him we have the technology

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-58230872851549289382011-12-07T01:41:00.000+08:002011-12-07T01:41:14.175+08:00

i don’t care about yr arbitrary badges of democratic privilege or the shiny pointy star-shape on your black issue velcro puffin up yr uniformed chest yr armour-plated body suit or yr sunday bloody sunday best swaggered at the church of economic risk you are fucking enormous with thick batons and guns and riot shields across borders you stand alone one foot in each zone and i don’t care about yr

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-21873767269931547802011-10-21T11:25:00.003+08:002011-10-21T11:28:42.262+08:00

sugar studio 

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-81627859285681923512011-10-21T11:22:00.004+08:002011-10-21T11:28:07.494+08:00

 sugar studio

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-26633558788829669202011-10-08T02:53:00.001+08:002011-10-21T11:21:39.906+08:00

hey its not even fucking January but i smashed out a million words already planted them like little trees in the ferocious dirt like acacia acumulata seedlings, hosts for the sandalwood deep and little more than a bootlength apart in the thick wet strings of mounds or the depth of scalps traversing paddock contours green sticker swathe struttin walkin on bones but betting each other on

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-59089474516310127922011-08-31T16:29:00.004+08:002011-09-01T00:17:56.028+08:00

metaphrastic tendencies just woken up in a broken country  no new hope for those  without the funding without the freedom the paper nation  fearing a twisted invasion  locked up at the gatepost those on busted boats are shunted and pardon my metaphrastic tendencies I'm dragging my knuckles  on the concrete trees the neon beer-stains the lime-flavoured holdens the fuck off we're full

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-88977774971981873022011-08-12T01:05:00.001+08:002011-08-12T01:07:03.950+08:00

8th July 2011 - Fremantle Press Poetry Publisher Georgia Richter announced the writers selected for Fremantle Poets 3: Performance Poets today. Eleven Western Australian performance poets have been chosen for the collection which will be published in Fremantle Poetry Month in July 2012. They are: Allan Boyd (aka the antipoet), Jeremy Balius, Liana Joy Christensen, Gabrielle Everall, Amber

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-12841727846895107252011-08-11T02:39:00.005+08:002011-08-12T01:23:24.565+08:00

these brittle endless tree-bent streets rubber to go on lygon, on brunswick are overloaded nozzles bleed basic enamel ink neon lambs to pita to spray gutters in suspicion red, a white-lined black and pine mulch in stencil inversion our tram evasion speaks to bitumen whispers at 3am we drift in merlots

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-27189910440805540542011-05-29T12:48:00.001+08:002011-07-24T19:34:23.520+08:00

Land cries out in pain shedding tears of blood for the young and old slainBones litter the ground like leavesChannelling each others panic we are,Wrecked on sweet jesus rhymes, pages on pagesUndone like shoes we stroll in jealous packs Sounds of gunshots and screams embedded in the earthMoans of the dying live on in the wind through the treesshe’s telling stories through the trunkseven sisters

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-55166535243675970862011-05-24T01:03:00.004+08:002011-05-24T01:08:22.402+08:00

www.perthpoetryclub.com

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-83472703084201743652011-04-07T11:57:00.004+08:002011-04-07T12:10:58.822+08:00

FRONT: click to enlarge BACK: Click to enlargeWorking on a series of Rack Card sized poems. Just ordered 50 of these...(just noticed the spelling error...)

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-1127697005418207652011-04-05T11:50:00.011+08:002011-04-09T11:17:29.253+08:00

standing at these fabricatedconcrete mindsetstaking set shots at the blue blocbehind the helmetsbehind the shieldsbehind the barriersthey stand with tiny tearsat the corners of their eyesand realise thatdespite the tang of saltthis is good overtimethis is the real dealwhere the weeksof riot training kicks inwith these ferals to hitthese shitty dissidentsthese subversives at their bootsshouting

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-64882144824361940412011-04-04T13:12:00.016+08:002011-04-10T14:04:26.651+08:00

DIGITAL POETRYWhat is it?Simply put, Digital Poetry fuses text with technology; combines words with computers; marries poets with machines, to create new works. Digital Poetry is also referred to as e-poetry, electronic poetry or cyber poetry.Perhaps we could argue that in its most basic definition, any poetry or literature created using a computer program such as Word (or indeed any word

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-70234318400839361992011-04-02T01:37:00.007+08:002011-04-04T10:12:54.212+08:00

but while i have your attentioni thought i should quicklymention thatthere are thousands ofmums and dadsand childrenhidden in boxeson islands, in floodplainsand deserts, in suburbsand cyclone townsand asiois taking libertiesthieving realitiesin curtin they're rhymingevery other word with hurtand waiting waiting waitingyet on plasmas the shortscannot get much shorterlow-cut tops much lowerthan the

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-59638047171220220592011-03-08T09:41:00.003+08:002011-03-08T09:51:26.142+08:00

under these starsnext to youyr shoulder at my hipi must have been yr tonguethe violent salt of yr lipsthen my fingers impossibly deepas time stops beyond logicor science, and we chase historybefore it happens, my stubblescratching each thigheach shaven monument to usand we bleed each others bloodagain, this time higherthan the last time

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-17202423034359291032011-03-08T09:27:00.002+08:002011-03-08T09:40:50.101+08:00

i forget these days of hardhot reds, tasting youthen rolling thin sticks of wet tarmac splashesand the velvet cumin seed rushesor a bitter toast of us in the coastal soaknow we're building holes in each others breathtight-walkin branches of body-partseach limb lithe and taut, flexed in the sunlight sweatour turgid secrets spent, thrust deepand in the glass city of blisterswe've lost count of the

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-50315718507801434412011-03-05T01:35:00.009+08:002011-03-08T02:05:28.595+08:00

Here's a quick look at my friend Paul's book:Hey, I'm privileged.Having heard Paul Harrison read his dark, witty and iconic poetry at slams, poetry-gigs, backyards, loungerooms and car-parks around Perth over the last few years (as well as over the phone, in txt messages and backseats of cars) - its almost impossible not to hear his rich voice, the thick Irish cadence - as I consume this

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-79590734855776242322011-03-05T01:12:00.004+08:002011-03-08T00:28:19.857+08:00

thick summer sheets ride this middle-city tonight, beside churches sit tall crooked letters, those fat drops hit alsynite in smacks, i'm breathing deerfoofed. this cape-lilac wall. some sprayed easterly in gusts - our southern-tinted words, they state in typical command: dont change. a thing.speed smokin up king william, colonel light street-walk rush, its 4.57 for a 5pm show, tuxedo cat

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-3243108616818669602011-02-26T23:32:00.004+08:002011-02-26T23:47:06.996+08:00

in adelaide 9amfebruary shadowsin the accom hisrapid fire bacon spitsas coffee textures grip tongueswe talk, we demand attentionwe stress past, seek neoligismsin hash-brown salt narrativesa yellow food bonanzawithout a beefy grinwe're slicing each others' pink fleshas the heat pulls hard thick sheets, thin streetsin toorak gardens, no birdsingsbesides doves coo cooand if we were iggy pop we'd

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-59553268222398773092011-02-23T00:11:00.004+08:002011-02-23T17:05:53.689+08:00

at the edges of this boxthe acoustic whispersreach painted jarrah splintersstilli'm crouching deep heretrying to stay frostyin this fat bitter heatcovering my sectorin sonic waves as ifas ifi were a vainglorious chemical reactiona violent distortionof factof fictionfrom the ceiling, bleedingspitting, our melanin sharedin thick wet shafts, deeper than our skinat some point i canpotentially bend

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-51524880082532764822011-02-20T01:10:00.006+08:002011-02-20T01:52:07.161+08:00

In Adelaide on Sunday 27 Feb to do a little bit of stuff on the outer periphery of the extreme fringes of the Adelaide Fringe Festival.Gonna be on a panel entitled: "Activism Smells" as part of Format Festival's Academy of Words - at Format HQ on Peel St in Adelaide - 3pm-4pm (with Ryan Paine) FBook eventthen off to do a spot at the too stubborn to die paroxysm showcase. Showcase at Tuxedo Cat

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-83793787942842447732011-02-16T13:45:00.005+08:002011-02-16T18:37:55.667+08:00

walkawayi don't fit in lost lonely alienated disconected Where do I belong, I belong by her side but she is not here Just around the corner half way around the world 20hr plane flight FUCKFUCK these solid walls, massive rushes of pure painthis time our narrative face first into desert rockthis spinifex cuts exploding at my thighnaked again at sunrise, we're bursting for air choking on each others

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-53263562955986158842011-02-02T00:19:00.009+08:002011-09-01T01:23:01.145+08:00

im bored im bored im bored im bored im bored im bored im borderline and there's you and this cigarette butt bustop-gutter-headache a trainstation carpark transaction in a bleeding bitumen stumble at the android head-rush collapse then yr fingernail mosaic at our cab-rank that push-bike skateboard crush in the grass an intolerant haircut on footpaths only this time more doors closing than

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-43726681864939011522011-01-21T00:05:00.004+08:002011-01-21T00:17:37.396+08:00

you're dangerous. sitting here. mouse in hand. smile thickens. wryness of breath. and you're bitter. timid, ripe and torn tonight. ripped hard like bustop paper. the breast of us in mourning as suns keep rising. tipping out buckets on concrete, snails drinking as if lusted. blades oiling against edges, the oxidisation kicks in. and we're in a car. fending off the undead. sitting in rapid bunches.

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-19097950752245291122011-01-14T01:44:00.005+08:002011-01-14T02:06:21.843+08:00

now i imagine us, restrainedafter mends street, rivers edgethat clean, sweat goddessmy showered stubble at yr napefructose touches between thighsresiding, setting up leather campinside you, the searing backas if made of fingers and mirrorsbody built like fabric ice on nippleour tongues on the skin-hills of youa wave of wet coffee time behind usthe wake of yr hot vodka blooda scream of streets,

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-66469663864457847042011-01-12T01:07:00.010+08:002011-01-12T01:51:38.536+08:00

(a long performance poem - undergoing draft - with a view to read as spoken accompaniment to RAC 3 Rachmaninov Piano Concert No.3)here in this soundwe sit and glarecan you feel the cacophonythe nipple-poking fancybold and hard at the corporate sunset of usin the incessant blue of cloudsa next-of-kin confessiona sirus fantasyand we flyalone, together, usyouyeah youand meusdig these fucking notes

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-67894997270478662022010-12-24T00:57:00.004+08:002010-12-24T01:00:47.449+08:00

theres an off switch,theres a road ditch,theres a tenth stitch,theres a cool bitch...there's a spin pitch,theres a new nichetheres a cool glitchtheres a black witchroad train, with my name.

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-89995359483412632132010-12-04T13:11:00.001+08:002010-12-04T13:27:09.966+08:00

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-58022568712230327182010-12-01T17:24:00.000+08:002010-12-01T17:25:15.598+08:00

and there she sitsin steel regimescross-legged atthe glint of corrosionthis infectionthis scarred remnantof 1000s of years ofaristocracyaung san suu kyiwhere torture is an institution likemilitia is just another bedtime storyas the dented batoncuts into foreheads at gatesin streets, in monopolised mediasa litany of slave-crimesmen bruised and hungryand dead children soldiersin a broken democracya

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-56863647117246695962010-11-24T02:38:00.001+08:002010-11-24T02:39:40.827+08:00

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-84848100907526123582010-11-17T00:01:00.005+08:002010-11-17T00:46:44.298+08:00

at onemy face crustingat this low levelear at the bitumencheek sear. braised as onewe hear molecules this arvooscillating asphalt banditscurbed in koolbardie silencereckonwas beer oclocksince sevenat twoin 40 plus sunwe are amberlimbless meatat eight we're cellular memories of breezea broadcast narrative babya generation one dreamingin each others sweatand our december skinsshed in brick, as

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-916800622883600952010-11-16T02:34:00.003+08:002010-11-16T02:43:50.801+08:00

there are wordsand then there are wordsholes likedried woundsfat and in usbut still we strollthrough eachothers dreamslike yr new ashon my wet fingersstains on buckled teeththe saltits 4am andthick easterlythrashesmy merzbowstatethere are treesthat need climbingsometimesthere are shoesto be wornblades to be renderedflat underfootbut the wordskeep tumblingto the pageand theroads

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-74208671571197856242010-11-11T00:57:00.014+08:002010-11-11T15:28:16.185+08:00

can you feeeeeeel itthe difference tonightthis gap between page and stagesee these lights - our collective realitythis contrived gesture - this movementthis e-nun-ci-a-tionyeah punters of the poemget a dose of tactile deliveryvampires of the wordhere stanzas are felt rhythmicallydeliberatelyapproximately one hundred and twenty secondsor less - of word - one after-the-otherafter-the-other -

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-69852972267989896412010-11-06T01:44:00.004+08:002010-11-06T02:21:48.802+08:00

hello? waiting here like this - the gearstick and little else but fabric between us - we all gather in beds eventually - pure white ceiling snakes unable to shake fists at walls - our rubber cheques god-like. here her synapses flicker - a separation effect - she is a fragment now - these strands of dense noise - getting impulses behind her face at 140 metres per secondyet I'm selling myself -

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-48158534510068967312010-11-04T01:40:00.011+08:002010-11-04T17:23:31.652+08:00

brothers: this is not a blue light shed on yr brutal masculinitywomen: you are not what you wear, ever, indeedbabies: take less medication pleasethis is a 2AM training sessionfor the 8000 watt burger-shoppercooler than fuck we areand this time, on the insidedismiss this kiss then - the frilly red thing you wearmothers: in this light, this ullulating blisschildren: defy this exotic white

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-14420851041068618032010-10-22T10:33:00.002+08:002010-10-22T10:34:23.652+08:00

CHECK CHECK - Yo Oscar Mikeso - I'm up on the mike to rhyme stuff with shitbaby I'm wack with the rhythm stickspittin out little biddy literary kickslike this - like this - like this and like thispretending to flow like the pope on dopeI'm bendin vowels-boy like they're made of soapwashing my tongue with saliva hope - I hope I hopegotta fit it all in this syllabic trickme got rhythm on my soul n

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-4892354124676530702010-08-19T23:06:00.017+08:002010-08-21T11:40:16.777+08:00

so yeah here he iswalking up to the microphonethe subtle smile-wincehere he is casting verbs not votesand you're there like someglee club reject, red winebeads of sweat at yr browthe creases of yr foreheadin the shadows babybreathing each molecule of freedomtil we're emastacated, domesticatedand ludicrously lubricatedthe fried starch, the malted hopsthe joint, the taste of cock and cuntand all

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-57290750836727675102010-08-19T19:50:00.004+08:002010-08-19T19:54:49.789+08:00

We've dragged him into town from the outer suburbs to perform for you... on a short break from tree planting, movie-starring, rocking, facebooking, web design, activism, parenting and teaching at some university or other... the one and only ANTIPOET! AKA allan boyd. 2-4pm Saturday 21 August at The Moon, 323 William St, Northbridge. Plus open mike. There will be two bursts of boydtext, one in

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-62134891469977032072010-08-08T14:31:00.012+08:002010-08-10T02:56:39.123+08:00

this is the page of the citya haze of cigarette smokers at doorsa bitumen testament to freeway bruisesa piece of wet paper in the street glossthere's a taste of cut copper here, salta sour mash remedy - a bitumen foundationa new dead friend - steel in our skinsas we breathewe breathe inparticles of starsbreathe outwords, inhale ourselveswe all fuck in neat packsall dominant cultural microphone

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-22455570298214568022010-08-04T01:29:00.001+08:002010-08-04T01:32:45.116+08:00

Here is a synopsis of the film. I'm playing the part of Travis."The Ballad of Nick Chopper is the story of people who have lost direction in their lives.It is the journey of Travis; a lost voice, someone who reaches boiling point and Amie; a teacher who has lost the passion she has for her job and her life and is searching for more.Throughout their journey we meet other characters that fill the

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-22086572579026434732010-07-24T16:55:00.000+08:002010-07-24T16:56:25.421+08:00

watchin these trucks go bymakin my throat go dryfeelin the barbecue sicknessthis cancer cloud over usI'm rattlin round the back of this utemy masculinity burtstina brutal blue pill frenzy not the red pill terrorismI've shot my share of loads on loungesover all your optimus transformera prime beef reformist - I'm fatter than angusrounder than a bank manager's anusI'm sittin in this chair but

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-52858285034470025402010-07-24T11:50:00.003+08:002010-07-24T12:00:18.487+08:00

card hard against my fleshmicro hair-scrape cross my chesta plastic history - an echoic festivali'm molded n melted, stiff n shiftedwading thru this sea of idiotsin a ben hur chariothaving a my bad momentthrown into the wastebinclutchin my coin-purse of 3 cent pieceslistenin to the compoundsresonators are my sistersinterpret the systemswaitingfor thefootball

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-9053940807527253882010-05-13T13:36:00.003+08:002010-05-13T13:51:30.566+08:00

casting hot sandwichesat unplanted paddocks againa ritual of sortsan offering to the unexplained dirtnine point three hectares each herein that sunfucked beach blockthe spikes of natives stab shinsand we stride blindthru thistle forest moundsokagee dust now lungbuttertomorrow the mogumber plainsanother wet beer storythen we sink like wheat bagsin the rodeo upholsteryand in rancid groupsof

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-11826825712065857942010-04-02T02:42:00.002+08:002010-04-02T02:42:39.135+08:00

friday: waiting for chocolate and jesus to die

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-82413200032709842652010-04-01T19:12:00.000+08:002010-04-01T19:13:16.267+08:00

can you see em? they're here…in the thick black bold wide font, they're herethere's full page evidence of this in the typefaceand yet jesus appears here too in this galein hazy grains of this ancient jetty timberthe groaning weight of 78exquisite scarves rotting at the beachesthis uniform is a navy blue shopping spreea basket full of eggs and pizza and chipsand we struggle with the jerry can

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-61808973458490793262010-03-09T01:33:00.003+08:002010-03-09T01:48:29.538+08:00

and yet beneath this wombshe can breathe smoke at lasta circle of steaming bloodmore reason for riding tallin short skirted manifestosinstead we count sheepskin pleatsand trot into her, blithe hemsyou dig, feel beyond germaine skinthrow boot on tactile shovelsand history spoils our gravesto seek mastheads with tongueslike emma goldmandoodling at the fringeswith hatchets and axesto bury and

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-73136106317037710582010-03-08T23:53:00.001+08:002010-03-08T23:57:34.196+08:00

chicks here best grow crystalsfrom shiny, shaven skinperfect sweat beadslike neon or oil.pacing stiletto satellites,trimmed arms.her dishes form curry crust.3.5 million plucked from tv stardomhoisted to the yoghurt nest,a cultural normof all our spare penisesa grand piano of her enemy teethand this nappyscapea pungent memoira day care manifestowe breath dieseland sell itshe says

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-46748750550860690012010-03-02T15:58:00.002+08:002010-03-02T16:01:10.878+08:00

1800 billion or soa mass daze swaggera bassendean exit30+ in 11PM carparkssurge @ red rooster rendezvousthe fuzzy-neon rush-blare of faith no more& 4WD singlet trafficthe stench of rancidwaste toward tonkin@ beldon mcdonaldsthe burger is half poundera dozen yellow nuggetsour drive-thru boyrefuses to remember the primary circlethe diff shifts in clunksthere is no doctora facebook status poem (420

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-18803722443647156042010-02-15T02:18:00.006+08:002010-02-15T11:36:13.259+08:00

hereit was a big lifenot a long lifeit was a good lifesuch a strong lifehear hearin the boom timein the boom townyou gotta come downsome timehear hear====== at the damv: the days gettin shorterfrom the bottle that i bought herat the damthe wine tastin betterand my ass is gettin wetterat the damher smiles gettin brighteras the skies gettin whiterat the damch: this waters gotten dirtynow i'm gettin

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-71071807481641770422010-02-08T00:16:00.008+08:002010-02-09T00:27:38.999+08:00

"Back at the small stage, we discover The Scare. Frontman Kiss Reid taunts a boisterous mob into delicious submission. The Scare are grindin' hips, oozing a dark and naughty swagger - frontbar theatrics and beer sweat personified. All five members give everything to the BDO cause. Cool-as-fuck attitude with dirty, dirty banter. At set's end Reid launches himself into the crowd. Most audacious act

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-52329232328929097522010-02-05T00:57:00.002+08:002010-02-05T01:08:12.899+08:00

Just another sentence on a perfect dayJust across the concrete on a perfect dayBlissed inside the centre on a perfect dayJustify existence on a perfect dayJust another sentence on a perfect dayPocketful of passion on a perfect dayDetonate my suitcase on a perfect dayRectify the system on a perfect dayExpect Resistance - Resist ExpectanceJust another sentence on a perfect dayThese are my defences

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-28898741192445032642010-02-01T01:13:00.043+08:002010-02-04T12:05:54.844+08:00

RHUM REVIEW - Big Day Out 2010 - PERTHClaremont Showgrounds - 31st January 2010Rhum Magazineby Allan BoydWe came, we saw, we consumedWe arrive early for local openers Emperors on the Hot Produce stage. Fellow sandgropers, Sugar Army, bleed from the bigger stage between songs. Emperors' bold riffs, radio-fresh melodies and vocal-combos are infectious. They shine like drive-time pop-rock in the

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-2556495431842559812010-01-27T01:35:00.003+08:002010-01-27T01:38:00.609+08:00

a rollicking bound at the backstairssandals in hand we splitthese revenuesthe tickets rip thickat the fences ofthe free worlduh the free worlduh huh the free worldthe free free free free worldand so are we rocking motherfuckers?are we rocking yet?we take tubes at beachespunch out under the curlthe glistenin sandy swellsa gargantuan sprawlas the sun meltswe are marbled glassfucked like ice

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-56538212873395169832010-01-27T00:55:00.001+08:002010-01-27T00:56:38.992+08:00

a poem - 26th jan 10--------------------on invasion daydialoguein the black drivewaythis time i'm talkingto myself, parkedleaning againstour x-cop carthe polar whitenessthrough my fabrica next generationthat rustic urban skinicy stag in handeasterly breezes of mei'm waiting for mannersto appear like ghostsyet we/i are watchingold mates' lawnsonce lush dieunder union jackstars, suns setuh huhand

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-6751389462653190582009-11-10T23:10:00.003+08:002009-11-10T23:24:33.038+08:00

sisters and brothers - art is our artilleryi'm not backin up my utility - not sitting down collectively - your resistance is my futility - facing up to the humanity - this gut-drenched humility - we paint these walls they erected for our securityand art is our artillery - we are the stones at tanks - this rock-star pose at the barricades - we are black mask window smashers - with words - not guns

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-81467379859470286022009-11-09T11:35:00.003+08:002009-11-09T11:41:56.270+08:00

NO BORDERS - NO NOTIONS: AN EXPERIMENTAL CREATIVE WRITING WORKSHOP with Allan Boyd (aka the antipoet) Saturday 5th December 2009 - 1-4pm Peter Cowan Writers Centre - ECU JoondalupExperienced performance poet, experimental writer, artist, musician and Curtin University writing teacher - Allan Boyd (aka the antipoet) debunks the so-called "writers-block" myth in a three-hour workshop.Allan will

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-88774694246562468462009-10-30T01:04:00.001+08:002009-10-30T01:04:43.836+08:00

just another sentence on a perfect dayjustice and repentance on a perfect daystruggle thru the set list on a perfect daygod forbid my anarchyrealityfantastyanarchy

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-32727664583437899892009-10-29T01:17:00.003+08:002009-10-29T01:20:46.529+08:00

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-28124379686531589482009-10-27T11:14:00.004+08:002009-10-27T11:19:21.933+08:00

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-4308495469063299292009-10-18T02:12:00.004+08:002009-10-18T11:39:14.352+08:00

there are roads that wont be driven downthere are words that must not be written downthere are no walls that cannot be painted onthere are people that wont be broken downthere is music that will not be listened tothere are gardens that once were bitumenthere are credits we must rely uponthere are desires you should act uponget in linehold the linedrive the linestand in lineform a lineremain in

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-49975587089367340492009-10-10T11:43:00.003+08:002009-10-29T01:27:54.979+08:00

ripped in the brick-skinpillow-fort curtainedspa-roombending xanthorrhoea fiststo the full - pushforward an epic stanzathis melodybreezewaiting greenat chlorophyll swamp pointa whipped hip and white linecrystal shoulder glove box gossipour bodies' sweat and thena bunbury grindthe beat she barksthe philosophy of flowersof weekday bicep flexerthis brilliant yellowour acacia sunset sand envya

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-72506301221656178402009-09-25T14:16:00.001+08:002009-09-26T12:21:00.044+08:00

making the axe seem bluntwe dressed like sex, for changepushing embryonic cellsto the western brinkgargling each other's salivawe waited for the next waveof orgasm screech, a cannonthen I'm perched at the neckreasoning with yr godless particlesknocking up the pedal a notchbusting gallipoli rhymesat the wallpaper seamsyr level-headed, red-blooded mouthyr blue heelers heelingheld like arms

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-39293027779237792832009-09-07T12:24:00.004+08:002009-09-09T01:14:12.620+08:00

Traffic filters in through the open front doorYou can find me wasted on the kitchen floorGotta lotta empty bags but I want some more I want some moreGet stoned, get drunk every fucking weekendZips down, dicks out, pissin on the back fenceGlass on the backline, cousins at the defence I want some moreHey little sister sick of livin on dead timeHey little sister gotta take it to the frontlineGot a

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-14410150237107027122009-09-07T12:11:00.001+08:002009-09-07T14:14:47.775+08:00

dot dot dash dot dot dash…EE EE TEE - EE EE TEEduck duck dash dot dash duck duck dash dot dot dashanybody got any hash - leave yr tattered garments at the doordidya see a finch at the window the zephyr of morning wordscapesat the sunrise meltdown of letters n shapes more meat than mel and koshymore red guts than a butcher shop bigger than the fattest zine dreamtheres prizes bursting at the seam

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-43060964480444091542009-09-02T01:10:00.003+08:002009-09-02T01:14:01.961+08:00

canning blac blocs ballisticsharp fuck shredding attempts a narrative of sonic fencesoverdrove fender bash-core a punk of polar reverba cymballic carn a rendering of rockerylike banished crockerywe sing to the raining traffic

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-15995404614254400192009-09-02T00:41:00.003+08:002009-09-02T01:20:36.342+08:00

you/me - not branding them semiotic rantersour stolen skin way too pinkin the southern city of 21st century raverswe're rolling up sonic maths in graf-alley werd-speakan eventual suspicious tanking - and spot rainlike the delicious smell of petrol morning radicalsfuck the barrel of conspiracy man - a breathy mistyr editorial theologies of pvc suns n guns n drumsmate: am i a festival of bionic

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-52921090941265195212009-08-28T16:38:00.007+08:002009-08-28T17:31:37.348+08:00

(planning to perform this piece at perth poetry club sat 29 aug 09)well, I stand up next to a mountain - and I chop it down with the edge of my hand.. (voodoo chile: jimi hendrix)listen: listen - my sisters – to the syllables, the syllablespoet: yr sitting on this wasted red country - a political dystopia: a brand new system now recommended by most post-sheep’s-back billionaires and rabid-rim-job

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-34449608082915733072009-08-24T23:53:00.004+08:002009-08-25T01:17:12.346+08:00

The word "anarchy" is from the Greek, prefix an (or a), meaning "not," "the want of," "the absence of," or "the lack of", plus archos, meaning "a ruler," "director", "chief," "person in charge," or "authority." Or, as Peter Kropotkin put it, Anarchy comes from the Greek words meaning "contrary to authority." [Anarchism, p. 284]"Anarchism . . . teaches the possibility of a society in which the

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-47042848564828294152009-08-24T23:35:00.002+08:002009-08-24T23:40:56.945+08:00

The search is on for Australia’s next poetry slam champion! Speak, scream, howl, whisper or sing your original poem at the Australian Poetry Slam 09 – an electric live eventght where the audience is the judge! Slam heats are currently being held in city and regional venues across Australia until November 2009. Two finalists from each slam heat will compete in their state final.http://

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-41797131081499707902009-08-10T01:34:00.003+08:002009-08-10T01:54:40.935+08:00

For anyone interested, I'm running a couple of poetry workshops for the Peter Cowan Writers Centre, at Edith Cowan University Campus in Joondalup...Saturday 26 September 2009 - Experimental Writing - No borders No notions - Resisting meaning, gaining texture - 1pm - 3.30 pmSaturday 10 October 2009 - Performance Poetry - Stand and deliver: Bringing your words to life - 1pm - 3.30 pmMy two

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-1598624582075013102009-08-09T23:24:00.005+08:002009-09-11T00:49:26.918+08:00

{LOOKINFOR?... "Allan Boyd's grin-inducing poetic licks that he used to introduce the bands and the night..." GO HERE DOTDOTDASHERERISERISTAS...}As posted below, I've submitted for dotdotdash - a spunky fresh-tasting collective of writers, artists, journalists and bloggers. These audacious folks are putting out a "quarterly print journal of new artworks, stories, comics, poetry and creative

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-15984567084107000852009-07-10T16:54:00.003+08:002009-07-28T16:54:44.683+08:00

(apologies to Nick Cave - many stolen and bastardised lyrics inside this performance piece - al)“my face is finished - my body's gone - and I can't help but think - standing up here in all this applause and gazing down at all the young and the beautiful with their questioning eyes - that I must above all things - love myself...”like lazza himself - dig yourself nick - get ready for love – set me

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-24734858469716717612009-06-30T11:55:00.008+08:002009-06-30T12:23:06.661+08:00

Enter here... In deep blue rancid breaths, I’m speed-reading Winton - this totality of radical deception. A eucalyptical perception. At this stage, the reader is transformed - sinking deep into the grit of South-West quicksand. And you? The casual observer now flanking the Subiaco midfield, in ripped athletic spurts - like Cousins on ice - a paranoia of closed-circuit swine-flu drama-scapes

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-9766514408761715442009-06-12T01:17:00.005+08:002009-06-12T01:34:39.850+08:00

From the waslamheats.com website...The Perth heats of the 2009 National Poetry Slam will be held at the 459 BAR of the ROSEMOUNT HOTEL, Cnr Angove and Fitzgerald Sts in North Perth.Theres a map here, on the venue page.PLEASE NOTE: We will not be accepting Heat registrations until early September 2009.BUNBURY? there is also talk of a Heat in Bunbury! More details will be posted on

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-20980835913278977252009-06-01T23:51:00.007+08:002009-06-01T23:58:46.658+08:00

testing yr well-trod pathosi'm braver than uniformed cocki'm uncircumcised bitterrigid-n-rawthis truncheon of meaningwe eat well herein box(es)("final words? i'll give you 23 and 1/2 max..." - in response to MoTHER)

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-3066285230008462192009-06-01T22:56:00.003+08:002009-06-01T23:35:08.306+08:00

I often mention Charles Bernstein - who in 1978 cofounded the "L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E" magazine, which ran until 1981 - and his activist approach to generate an immediacy of language; to carve up expectation in the devices and forms of poetry. (PDF Bio)Today I realised that my partner has him as a friend on Facebook!Anyway, here's a couple of quotes: "The reinvention, the making of a poetry for our time

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-51377592323550872592009-06-01T00:12:00.007+08:002009-06-01T23:46:21.678+08:00

once babe19 yr tall black leather boots in julyyr hexagonic echo legsmy skin buckles at the hint of youat yr acoustic turgiditythe rise of the concrete stairstep clickstep clickfor yr grip, our ribs grindour fucking lips finger tongue-scapesmy 6AM weaknesses, some sort of dawnyr twenty in the fake mail, eventuallyfrom karinyup bitumenhey that trailer-ejected mattress, usmy bush shed wrist flicked

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-27935359172882396282009-05-30T12:51:00.000+08:002009-05-30T12:52:30.873+08:00

sixteen seconds away nowtearing the fish guts fromthis cyber pushi'm relish, centrelink movieslarger than an ochre spiderour bronzed arms flailin in unisonthen the broadside fleshmanifest in flashing lambsa resident without countrywithout woundsthe waves of yr dusthere...

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-13707953240428987912009-05-25T12:30:00.000+08:002009-05-25T12:34:09.096+08:00

yr plastic breath stolen in brittle gaspsweak at the calves, we grip railssurf the rectal stars, this gnu cell of usmy bold finger in you, the tearyr bovine fist at the barricadefirm and sacred, a turgid hammerthe bass blare cutting faster, deeperyr nipple in the bamboo slice, my headour guttural harmonic sigh, buriedat black moon pointand today baby, we sweat last night's chemicalsin toxic

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-66721533649487974182009-05-22T12:13:00.000+08:002009-05-22T12:15:03.039+08:00

here we're channeling street debristhru the classic real estate blueswe're shifting the bitumen shipslike seeds of chronic charcoalthese red cycle-powered spokes spentour 1890s dreams unpedaledon broken cobalt bedsyet yr billion percent hedge-funda crash of global detritusnow an inner-jesus realisedi'm a super-anarchista stainan economic convergence resistorour shadow culture relishingthis

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-33088682803633613702009-05-21T11:07:00.003+08:002009-05-23T13:16:20.493+08:00

Asked by Scott-Patrick Mitchell, the editor of MoTHER [has words...], to answer a few questions for the upcoming issue...* who / what is the antipoet?Ha! There are myriad reasons. The term antipoet is a play on the way I write and perform poetry. To be honest I don't really like poetry - at least most of the poems I hear and read in the "scene". I think poetry should be bold with language usage,

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-59412800211640179002009-05-20T14:52:00.000+08:002009-05-21T11:21:33.448+08:00

todayat the barricadesthey strutspilling guts in the last quarterwe've come this far, so far tonightin this hyde park - youand the go-duster messing with my desirebreaking the capital code of sprinkler policei'm waitin for the directiveat the oceans edgewrack beneath me feetand the rocks n stones thrown at tanksin the desert heatwe eat each others egolike cunts in the front barthrowing back wet

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-87899030162197369932009-05-16T12:54:00.000+08:002009-05-16T12:57:54.146+08:00

the way the spinifex cuts yr facehair products asidethe corrogation sand and kelp mountainsanother battered envelope of skyall broken sun and flat cloudyet i can breathe herethrough yr retching lungsthe cancer of culturereeking of pisswe settle like scars on ecologya literary fantasy, unheardtold in inches, kilometreslaughing til mum criesour tasks diminish against this framethis flat sky not a

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-76748169995611274152009-05-11T11:54:00.006+08:002009-05-12T13:51:28.065+08:00

Doing it again - the Antipoet Band assembles at the Hyde Park Hotel Front Bar, Bulwer St, North Perth - this Thursday night 14th May - from 8pm. $5 entry - AP Band on at 10.30pm.Details are dirty and sketchy but Al, Riche, Ray, Buddah, Subaware and maybe Kev will mount the mics at Hydey...With DIE SCOUNDRELShttp://www.myspace.com/scoundrelsbandand CHAINSAW HOOKERShttp://www.myspace.com/

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-85069198416692207272009-04-10T14:35:00.002+08:002009-04-10T14:38:51.689+08:00

sandalwood suncracked boots freestylin threads off acacia salignawhisty sheoak songlinessweatin april dust in scattered patterns across baked moundsa cooked mind in cream paddock bliss,hot water swiggers off the steel traythe shape of battered catsthe 7am bushfire hazea thousand nuts rattle-bounce like battle-cries for pig-melondouble G spots melts like cancerat seventy bucks a hecno weekends

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-80576153697438551412009-04-06T10:20:00.001+08:002009-04-06T10:21:52.002+08:00

Check out the ANTIPOET BAND's first performance at the Hyde Park Hotel - Saturday 11th April...http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=51664913854&ref=mf

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-43750701921624556762009-04-04T10:34:00.003+08:002009-04-06T10:14:43.730+08:00

relax brothers, sistersso I'm standing here in the black black light of this respirated roomthis court of stonewalled rainbow pride - a razor cultnot a stolen cushion amongst youthis is a spoken saturday tragedyquestion: but should i drop the blue pill the tainted red of a sunset billionairea capital traffic-jam - a gridlock mindfuckam i such a pissback-coded n fully stunted fringeall in for the

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-59941449511449556032009-03-28T02:15:00.000+09:002009-03-28T02:16:16.441+09:00

them distorted, busty united sand skeletonsseek wet flesh - postured crystalline decadesthose granular narrative arcs, a seaweed neath yr toesthis ignited karri/salt projectionof colonic retard riffs - bass n drumas glisten-ripped as our Cousins hamstringour collective 38 storey bicepraw FM fireworks, a Cross in a boata station, from southern skythose banjo colts, regrets awaycanned heat, the

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-4550349342453954182009-03-19T00:16:00.002+09:002009-03-19T00:19:58.828+09:00

nowif i had a decent dunlop picki'd reach another sorta denim plainandif i had a digger's necki'd crucify a flat white terabyte by any other namethen tonguing for the commodified fizz that aromatic head - our cigarette stancethe fermented starch measurementseven stages of menof boys withknives usall sweaty crystal chainsaw oilin this bleached living rooma busted blackened whalea harpoon speech

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-27064061958916355762009-03-09T23:35:00.009+09:002009-03-10T12:09:58.076+09:00

Excited organisers of a fresh weekly poetry reading, Janet Jackson and Helen Child say:The Perth Poetry Club will be kicking off on Saturday, March 28, from 2-4pm, and every Saturday thereafter, at The Court hotel and restaurant, 50 Beaufort Street, Perth.This is opposite the museum, just along from the train station, about as central as it gets.For those with recalcitrant feet: no stairs! - we

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-14050167257448706002009-03-07T20:21:00.002+09:002009-03-08T02:35:16.405+09:00

From an email today..."Or you could always buy a car and get a license :-)"My response:I won't be buying a car motherfucker. And nor will I be getting a license just so I can get to Freo on a fucking Sunday night for a half-hour set.Comrade, there are some things we choose not to do out of principle.I don't drive a car like I don't use needles, or kick dogs, or fuck children...Car use is

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-73191720847914779732009-03-07T00:31:00.007+09:002009-03-08T02:41:38.503+09:00

From a thread on Perth IndymediaWhilst its kinda interesting to read the analysis of a slam here on perth indy, the point of a slam is NOT the competition. At all.The competition is an illusion, a delusion.Slam events are purposely designed to produce random judges from the folks in the crowd, ie not literary judges, not high-brow poets, not beret-wearing snobs! Although if those are in the

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-87139247103275895132009-03-05T03:04:00.002+09:002009-03-19T00:18:57.895+09:00

we witnessed the best bent mindsof my generation tonightin an angel-brained blue roomspitting hammered bitsof ruptured angry hipslike burning melodies of atomsa fix o' starsour pheromonic languageat each others tatteredcotton fringethis being the right roomfor an argumentno it isn'tyes it isinnitmetaphorically starving, craving thehysterically fully clothed pissinganalysing our hollow-eyed naked

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-21475866089919175512009-03-03T01:14:00.003+09:002009-03-03T01:24:58.040+09:00

SLAM FINAL - Wednesday 4 MarchThese are the 12 finalists for the final of the inaugural Perth Poetry slam:BelowskyKarla HartRaageh IsmailGabby EverallMark LloydTiffany HaPaul HarrisonElizabeth TanStephanie Megatronn LowVivienne GlanceJeremy BaliusKhin MyintAll welcome. Audience tickets are $5. The venue has limited capacity - so please book at the Blue Room website or phone the Blueroom on: 9227

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-79049913737215862342009-02-25T02:42:00.004+09:002009-03-07T02:43:44.310+09:00

Come and vent..."Canada’s Propagandhi are finally dragging their politically charged punk rock arses back to Australia. From their earlier roots in the punk and skate punk tradition to their more recent heavier, hardcore thrash-influenced sound, this band has a reputation for their energetic live finesse. It has been 11 years since they last turned themselves loose upon us and the anticipation

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-38689226772196795602009-02-12T15:35:00.000+09:002009-02-12T15:36:36.568+09:00

not enough red wine to kill itnot enough beer to say thisnot enough buds to cough it upno amount of cheap bourbon can quell itnot enough left of you to really do this justiceand I wait with notions of youthe personal political, the poetic farce of this pageand so this stupid necessary heat, this molten national facedrips like bushfire climate fantasy - the C word on my lipsand there you are:

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-39809447594944540712009-02-07T13:41:00.000+09:002009-02-07T13:43:04.402+09:00

in response to amber freshif jesus was a woman - she's like this cyber-resurrectionthis spectrum of bold-faced glass ruinand plaster ripped back to flat pink noiseand binary brick-bat fibres, washed feet and the restand clear-skin shit on white walls herein this room - now - the codebook by book, verse verses versesthis crucifixial remnant twisted at my splintered, wooden neckthis barbarian

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-27763445026396334162009-02-05T01:43:00.012+09:002009-02-06T10:36:04.994+09:00

every stepevery considered action trod every chandelier paradigmevery doormat upon the rafia coercivewe tread stepsbut every slight glass-eyed structure against yr brilliant hierarchyis like a gestureevery steep lusty stepevery contemplative hazea bold hard gazeevery moment of radical motiona blistered hand, a swollen fingera cannibalistic signifier, a penmy mobile imageevery stepevery steep

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-64256717133673866012009-01-20T03:30:00.002+09:002009-01-20T03:32:05.305+09:00

Perth Poetry Slam 2009 Full details coming soon... Openmouth and The Blueroom present the inaugural "Perth Poetry Slam" Starting Wednesday the 4th February 2009, the Perth Poetry Slam runs each Wednesday night until the 4th March - with up to 20 wordmongers will dazzle you in a battle to the death. Five randomly chosen audience members will judge the performances to see who wins the

antipoethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16791314473109100406noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3852993.post-10038480488764079132008-12-12T12:10:00.000+09:002008-12-12T12:11:25.973+09:00

doro t: fuck a violet tear stained wrist, heyhi, so west of this brittle leafi'm sand and sunglasses afterwards,she spoke - in meat haiku huskerywe sat on this black barge,the swan sun wept cellularly, splintersabout thy crucifix's red subtle onion dipa salad of poems/poetrickscoooooler than a narrative relictoo much thyme thesismaybe, kill noireternal cooking scenturythe newcastle sea spraya

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