After years of operating as guerrilla poet lone wolf/loose cannon I've decided mobilise, and train a guerrilla poetry death squad in my top secret headquarters (granted it is the ACT Writer's Centre, but i asked for a hollowed out volcano).
The training will be in the form of a workshop that will run for roughly 4 hours, with a bit of history, powerpoint and poetry.
Attendees will be encouraged to participate, and create their own guerrilla poems, and unleash them upon Canberra.
The guerrilla poetry can then be posted onto the facebook page
a shorter follow up workshop will be arranged with the attendees.
Sign up through the ACT Writer's Centre here.
so bring your derring-do, your derringers and your Dillinger-style escape plans to Join the Canberra Guerrilla Poetry Splinter Cell
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Monday, January 21, 2013
Happy New Year
Its taken me three weeks of the new year to sit down and compose a post (compost? Compoesie?) for you.
I'd ask how you are, but the truth is I don't care and if you answered, others would think you were strange.
Earlier, it was that time of year that people make promises to themselves that will hopefully shape the year to come, as if the first of the first bestowed an extra measure of Will Power or that the resolutions are somehow more sanctified because they were drunkenly spoken under the burning-magnesium-eyes of the god of New Years. This is not me.
I live with the intention of each year being better than the last, and it's worked so far, last year will be pretty hard to top, But I intend to succeed. in fact, exceed, in all forms of excess. I want to get continually better so when I die (nine years time - I'm predicting death at 40) I'd be a comet of awesome.
Well, we can dream. Certainly a better resolution than only drinking skim milk. Or giving up sex with marsupials. Or whatever it was you said while drunk... I wasnt listening.
Heres a poem. I hope to do one a week
Resolutions
By next year's summer
Vows of ours we've spoken
Promises broken
I'd ask how you are, but the truth is I don't care and if you answered, others would think you were strange.
Earlier, it was that time of year that people make promises to themselves that will hopefully shape the year to come, as if the first of the first bestowed an extra measure of Will Power or that the resolutions are somehow more sanctified because they were drunkenly spoken under the burning-magnesium-eyes of the god of New Years. This is not me.
I live with the intention of each year being better than the last, and it's worked so far, last year will be pretty hard to top, But I intend to succeed. in fact, exceed, in all forms of excess. I want to get continually better so when I die (nine years time - I'm predicting death at 40) I'd be a comet of awesome.
Well, we can dream. Certainly a better resolution than only drinking skim milk. Or giving up sex with marsupials. Or whatever it was you said while drunk... I wasnt listening.
Heres a poem. I hope to do one a week
Resolutions
By next year's summer
Vows of ours we've spoken
Promises broken
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