cunthamma

poetry is a cunt-hammer:
an opera of a thousand languages

this microphone a brutal baton

there was movement at the station
as the word had passed around
that the poetry is federated,
unlike this desecrated political square
a sacred mental contortion
of vulgar victorian proportions
the syndicated concrete sound
of poetic patchwork distortions

this holy space is a box of football poems,
torn from the grass tar,
the cobblestone, enamel-stained streets,
these rabid aussie rules
etched like a histrionic community bloc party
- an 80,000 year-old poetry slam

this rampant, random, riotous bleeding art of melbourne
- a tattered mosaic of cracked and peeling layers
on layers on layers on layers of meaning
like a sky-scraping stanza as a backdrop border
reflecting the brown cloud light

and we're inside the belly of these 21st century mouments
to a post-modern helmet a hammer to smash the state
- and he said: i beg your pardon the fuck up

and jas h duke is my godhead,
remembering the war in vietnam.

i remember the war in vietnam

here the streets tell stencil-postered stories,
the remnant words and meaningless dates
faded like neologistic scaffolds of nations,
a pencilled genocidal century of

federation federation federation

this movement at the station like kevin sheedy
is a fucking president of poets,
reeking, speaking, seeking the words to shape reasons
to build structures into this dictionaryof me

this stolenwealth remedy,
a thick river of dirt and ancient stories
an indigenous smoke ritual
in this city of bulging recitals of

poems and poems and poems and poems.

in this overloaded theoretical melbourne sun
- the residue of irish spring and piss
bouncing off walls - the old walls, the new walls -
and your body like a letter to queen victoria

and my flaccid cock is not a mirror but a hammer to shape it
and yet here, i'm federated federated federated
and this federation heart
a bold and pure tonic of movement
at the station the station the federation

written and performed on: august 17, 2007
by "the antipoet" at the overload poetry festival 2007
at edge theatre: federation square, melbourne

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Notes: “Art is not a mirror held up to reality, but a hammer with which to shape it.” Bertolt Brecht. And that word Cunt" is a classic aussie slang, well used in melbourne by many poets. It is at once a beautiful and complex word, meaning so much and so little - yet shocking beyond utterance - a perfect poem.

The repetition of: "i remember the war in vietnam" is an homage to Melbourne's greatest sound poet: Jas h Duke. Check out his remarkable works at the links below:
MP3s
Sound Poetry
A sketch by A Biographical SketchThalia
And Google Jas H Duke for more...