Tag Archives: mens poetry

Celebrating Andy

andy paddle boardAndy is a mate, a wild man from Tasmania. I would call his journey style   raw and  experiential . He came along to my soul food workshop, from which came his hairy monster poem. Just sharing some of his stuff with you.

One of his favorite sayings a mate told him about is:-

lay back in the arms of the universe
in an attitude of divine nonchalance
and trust
and your wild dreams will come true

The hairy monster hairy man banksia

hairy monster
He’s the fear that lives inside
dark strange place He lives in
Deep down deep inside
He jumps out and grabs me gizzards
And shakes me all around
And I sit back and reflect on the feeling
And send him love and thanks
Thank him for the reminder
That I have a choice in life
To do my living fully
And show him how it’s done
By this fella in bliss
On the edge
with hairy monster

Buster at night

Jagging in an out breathedog at night
Stolen from the sky
No thoughts or pain just being
Wondering under the stars

Dog as well tags along
Leaves fella to his air
And sort of grins as if to say
Its ok fella do your thing

Pump and jump. Heave and thump
Jag your in and out breaths
In the moment cool that night
Witnessed by the stars

Only feeling remains
Thoughts disappear
Maybe out of body
Dog knows.  Man don’t

Man always gota  know
He’s got to be able to explain
He’s fixed in his cognition
Stuck in his own thoughts

So join me one and all
Jag some in and out breaths
Call them busters if you like
Sucking deep and hard

Cells dance and jingle

The dog smiles
He doesn’t think it through
He just knows fellas happy
And he is happy too

Fuckit

This poems all fucked
And I like it that way
I don’t want no corrections
And I have no fear

Fuckit fuckit fuckit
Feels ok that
Repetitious fuckits
Hard to get bored
When your fucking saying fuckits
All the fucking night
Fucking frigging fuckit
Just one more time
Fuckit

Goodnight

Poetry and the sound of one man clapping

Reconstructing Humpty  is my ebook of poems written  between 1988 – 2006. The context of the poems is explained in my spirit journey story

The sound of one man clapping is the name I have given to the story of my first sharing of some of these poems.

clapping handsI gave a few pages of freshly written poems to two  artist friends. A few days later the feedback arrived.  They told me I was just an intellectual wanker with no right to call my writing poetry. It was like putting scribbles on the wall for an art exhibition. I was devastated.

Lying on my bed at home, contemplating the criticism and pain associated with it, I had an insight that was to serve me well on my journey.

“What I had written was just my honest expression of my world, my experience my trying to make sense of it all. It was no more than that, neither good or bad just my truth. I imagined myself on a podium speaking my poems and looking up and seeing myself as the audience and clapping to the man who was just speaking his truth”

The pain gradually subsided. It was my beginning of learning to express and share who I was, learning to face the fear and do it anyway. It gets  easier the more you do it and those that appreciate the intimacy and openness make great friends. I have also found that my poetry is quite good my artists friends were doing a destruct him thing – why? dont know really maybe they felt threatened by them calling to them to examine their own depths. Lift the lid on Pandora’s box. But the result was a gift as it assisted the birth of a wonderful insight.

I found it interesting that when I circulated my Reconstructing Humpty collection, that women seemed to see the story woven through the poems. Men seemed to just say which particular poem they liked.

My favourite response was from a boy of 14 at a dinner party. He said that  he enjoyed the poems and his favourite was the one called ‘Fuck’ . When I asked why, he replied ‘It was so angry”