Tag Archives: Brew

After a spectacular weekend at QPF 2012, SpeedPoets keeps the poetry hit coming at Brew (Lower Burnett Lane, Brisbane City) from 2pm – 5:30pm. The month of September sees two two fine features take the stage; local lady, Trudie Murrell and interstate guest, Andrew Galan. So let’s check in with Andrew to find out a little more…

The upstairs food court writer in exile, Andrew Galan, has performed as part of the Corinbank, Canberra Fringe, This is Not Art, YouAreHere, and Australian National Folk festivals. His poetry has been included in The Best Australian Poems 2011, and published in the United Kingdom, the United States, New Zealand, and Australia. He performs with spoken word band The Tragic Troubadours, co-founded BAD!SLAM!NO!BISCUIT! with Hadley at The Phoenix Pub, and has a blog: Huitzilihuitl’s Reign of Death.

And here’s a hit of Andrew’s words:

The way we go

A comin’ home boys, ta’the land we use’ta’sleep in
hear it         that cartridge chorus shouldn’t be our canta’, rather
sound the Burger’s haven         with tight belt
for perfect hell    they’ve    we’ve    sent for
hollow points chip cinder, but don’t drop a tear
with small ships a’masonite
it’ll be a bucket’a'blood         for each tack from Tupperware
no tomorrow limes         I’m comin’ home
Frank Herbert’s blest         boys we’re comin’ home
so pack another lunch-box, nails brimmin’
primer for Fate, urea’ll light the night
fuse’ta’fit Foxtrot-Nine-One-Whiskey-One, this watch model’s sincere terror boys
hear the blade drum, they’re comin’         they’re comin’ for us.

Men, how many bullets can we fire?    hail to greet
a confessional         Frank Herbert’s blest
a ghastly crime         yell it men
tear these boys with lead         SWAT ‘em with cannonades
no fertiliser’s gunna save ‘em         see the roof lift
from blue jean ridden bum-bags         it’s the hour to answer,
never again         no repeat incarceration         zero time for games
not with guts intact, they’re not goin’ home, rather
right hands’ll stretch each face across a basketball for their families to ID
pop, you hear ‘em pop? To fat to escape instead they drop
ready then, let’s see how many end grinnin’         men we’re goin’ in.

No time boys    where are ya’Ballard?    for cars    for trucks
feel that in ya’guts    me guts    that’s the song ya’should be feelin’
not I, home, I’m still comin’ home         once from carillon temple city
through perfect hell         ta’sweet musk smilin’
shore, ya’saw it, descent’ta’burnin’ sands, ta’tangle bough with feet an’hands
that’s not the land i’m gunna rest in, feel those tears boys
Perkins, what the fuck are ya’doin’ here?
the jungle townhouse calls, it calls outside no Frank Herbert believer
i’m comin’ home         so tighten belts         we’re comin’ home
boys, pack another lunch-box, nails brimmin’
primer for Fate, urea’ll light the night
fuse’ta’fit Foxtrot-Nine-One-Whiskey-One; that watch model’s sincere terror
boys they’re comin’ in, hear timber’ta’metal, contact boys, they’re comin’ in.

Men, smash the lock         to sugar grove shore
they’re not goin’    you look lost boy, school’s that way    we’ll see spray
where head kisses ceilin’         no flash’n'bang
where palms splay metres         no grapple to save, save to hollow clip
where sandal stumps stick to floor         seven times men         in the face
no Frank Herbert believer, inside no martyrdom soldier, instead
each’s a tear in another mum’s eye as we swab her gums to confirm his demise
so cock your hammers         ground your lines         with rubber face
men, we’re goin’ in         these boys’ll be chockas with lead
pop, you hear ‘em pop? To fat to escape instead they drop
so crash the door, totem green’n'red hand men, we’re goin’ in.

For land to rest in
doesn’t matter how many cells are thrown away
agony, theirs, not ours
for the brew of skin between wood’n'tin
agony from the guts that end us
still each warms without prints’ta’press      ta’paradise
a comin’ home men, this is the way to go to war
a comin’ home boys, this is the way’ta go’ta war
Frank Herbert’s blest
this is the way      we go.

**********

The September gig will also feature the regular delights of free zines, raffles, the guitar roar of Sheish Money and Brisbane’s hottest Open Mic Section. And let’s not forget that all poets in the Open Mic are in contention to be named Call Back Poet of the month!

The Call Back Poet is selected by the monthly features and given the opportunity to perform a mini-feature to close the event (2 poems) as well as win the right to perform at the November gig and be in the running for cash prizes and the title SpeedPoets Open Mic Champion for 2012.

There are now only two Call-Back-Poet spots to be decided, so bring your best to the mic!

SpeedPoets have been keeping poetry fast in Brisbane for more than a decade, so come along and take the ride!

Date: Saturday September 1
Location: Brew (Lower Burnett Lane, Brisbane City)
Time: 2pm – 5:30pm
Entry: Gold Coin Donation