Well, looking back to 2012, it has been a year of much growth and excitement. Plenty, plenty of positives to take out of the year, but for short-sake, we'll stick to one topic for this post, and that is the founding of 'The League Of Extraordinary Poets', as a legitimate poetry performing group. Myself and five friends met (Sasha, Rachael, Cameron, Loc, Arafa) at the Brisbane poetry jam group, 'Poetry Jam' and have been close friends ever since. We have given ourselves the title of 'The League Of Extraordinary Poets' and identify as a poetry performing entity. We have performed in gigs in Brisbane and throughout Australia (and also would be open to overseas gigs...) Let's have a look at each of us.
Rachael is "The Fey"
Our words weave between us like spider's webs,
Beautiful traps,
Delicate,
Hostile.
Strong, silk like sinews
Threading a dangerous lace
And I am caught
In the web of your promises,
Hanging helplessly
Whilst you spin ceaselessly
Around me
Preparing to suck out
Every last breath,
Every last protest.
But you needn't imprison me,
I have been yours from the first
Smile I saw pass your lips,
From even before your lies of love.
Perhaps it is only neurotoxins
That make me quiver and shake,
But you course through my blood
Like moonstruck tides
And I am yours, willingly or not.
Beautiful traps,
Delicate,
Hostile.
Strong, silk like sinews
Threading a dangerous lace
And I am caught
In the web of your promises,
Hanging helplessly
Whilst you spin ceaselessly
Around me
Preparing to suck out
Every last breath,
Every last protest.
But you needn't imprison me,
I have been yours from the first
Smile I saw pass your lips,
From even before your lies of love.
Perhaps it is only neurotoxins
That make me quiver and shake,
But you course through my blood
Like moonstruck tides
And I am yours, willingly or not.
Loc is "The Spoken Sword"
In The End
(Loc says: "I wrote this from a prompt given to me by my old writing group: If you had one day left on earth, how would you spend it and who would you see?")
When the last sunset withers into the ocean
Before this world falls apart,
I will already be on a plane towards you.
My mind will play out every little detail
From the moment I see you again.
I will hold your hand,
And see the reflection of this beautiful apocalypse
In the blues of your eyes.
When we kiss,
Our lips will fit so perfectly,
It'll be as though
They were broken from the same stone
And whole cities will burn
Like we set fire from our tongues.
We'll walk down the highways
And see the cars have all crumpled into twisted metal roses
In this garden of armageddon.
We'll watch streetlamps burst like fireworks
Illuminating our skin
Like a shower of starlight
And in the last moments
Before the earth collapses into itself
And blackholes its way out of existence,
The only gravity we'll know
Is the one between our bodies
Pulling us towards each other,
Again and again.
We'll make love like that last sunset
And I will fall into your skyline
Warm and slow,
Until all that's left
Is our afterglow in the darkness.
But when I'm on that plane,
In the back of my mind,
I'll know
That I'm still 7000 miles away
And I won't be able to make it by the end of the day
So all I want in the last seconds of our lives
Is to be able to look into your eyes,
One last time,
And say,
I'm sorry for leaving.
I'm sorry for every moment I couldn't be there for you
And every night you spent
As a lonely spectre in an empty bed
Pulling the ghosts from your own dreams.
I want you to know
That I never stopped missing you.
But if we don't even get that,
And the afterlife isn't kind enough
To let me break my way into your heaven,
I want you to know
That if they ever find me
In the wreckage of this airplane,
All they'll see is a boy heading home,
Body scrawled out on the landscape,
Trying to write you a love letter with his bones.
When the last sunset withers into the ocean
Before this world falls apart,
I will already be on a plane towards you.
My mind will play out every little detail
From the moment I see you again.
I will hold your hand,
And see the reflection of this beautiful apocalypse
In the blues of your eyes.
When we kiss,
Our lips will fit so perfectly,
It'll be as though
They were broken from the same stone
And whole cities will burn
Like we set fire from our tongues.
We'll walk down the highways
And see the cars have all crumpled into twisted metal roses
In this garden of armageddon.
We'll watch streetlamps burst like fireworks
Illuminating our skin
Like a shower of starlight
And in the last moments
Before the earth collapses into itself
And blackholes its way out of existence,
The only gravity we'll know
Is the one between our bodies
Pulling us towards each other,
Again and again.
We'll make love like that last sunset
And I will fall into your skyline
Warm and slow,
Until all that's left
Is our afterglow in the darkness.
But when I'm on that plane,
In the back of my mind,
I'll know
That I'm still 7000 miles away
And I won't be able to make it by the end of the day
So all I want in the last seconds of our lives
Is to be able to look into your eyes,
One last time,
And say,
I'm sorry for leaving.
I'm sorry for every moment I couldn't be there for you
And every night you spent
As a lonely spectre in an empty bed
Pulling the ghosts from your own dreams.
I want you to know
That I never stopped missing you.
But if we don't even get that,
And the afterlife isn't kind enough
To let me break my way into your heaven,
I want you to know
That if they ever find me
In the wreckage of this airplane,
All they'll see is a boy heading home,
Body scrawled out on the landscape,
Trying to write you a love letter with his bones.
Cameron is "The Maximalist"
Pearl of cities! Depending of course on the value of the pearl in question, whether the value of the pearl is greater than or equal to the value of Brisbane!
IPSWICH
Oldest city in Queensland! Old that is from a human perspective but taken in the grand scheme of the universe and everything in it is barely greater than a speck of dust in the desert!
IPSWICH
King of railway! That is assuming that railways have kings! Dynasties! Royal families! Courtly protocol! The Feudal System! That is assuming that freight trains are the proletariet and passenger trains are the bourgeoisie! Perhaps the trains are all actually Republicans!
IPSWICH
Home of an excellent art gallery that is both artistic and excellent and possibly a number of other adjectives also though one must not be too specific when it comes to art!
IPSWICH
Home of a thriving cafe culture! Though that’s not to say that cafes have their own languages, customs and migration patterns!
IPSWICH
Home to many great bush poets and also a few bad ones!
IPSWICH
Home of the free, and home of the brave, and also home to those who are both, and also home to those who are neither, and also home to those who believe that freedom and bravery are subjective variables, and also home to whoever it was who stole my car tires twice!
IPSWICH
Where the pubs are heritage listed, to ensure that future generations can get drunk and say they are contributing on a cultural level!
IPSWICH
Home of a shopping mall that everyone pretends to hate even though they really don’t ’cause it’s trendy to complain about urban sprawl!
IPSWICH
I like Ipswich.
Arafa is "The Sneaky Poet"
Take me to...
I don't know, it doesn't matter -
I don't care.
I tasted your name on the air and found it
Bittersweet,
Feeling poetry that wasn't even there.
Every time I hear the wind,
I think it's you again,
And every time I smell the breeze,
I taste the beauty too,
But it was hard to find a pulse.
You cannot sing a tune when the music isn't there.
And you are not part of the air.
I don't know, it doesn't matter -
I don't care.
I tasted your name on the air and found it
Bittersweet,
Feeling poetry that wasn't even there.
Every time I hear the wind,
I think it's you again,
And every time I smell the breeze,
I taste the beauty too,
But it was hard to find a pulse.
You cannot sing a tune when the music isn't there.
And you are not part of the air.
Vuong is "The Haiku Master"
especially in Brisbane
the fast cars call my name
Vuong! Vuong!
stone angel
naked in the garden--
only a bird whistles
light rain
all the windows open
for Ode to Joy
tired of bamboo gazing
I look to the pond--
bamboo reflection
I look to the pond--
bamboo reflection
school graffiti
on the auditorium walls
incorrect spelling
red traffic light--
my Jedi trick
makes it go green
red traffic light--
my Jedi trick
makes it go green
between the goalposts
an orb spider's web
catches the full moon
Sasha is "The Dandy"
Sasha is "The Dandy"
She is silver-nitrate and coal.
An Egon Schiele painting
stretched on dream
and sullen sparking glances
tipped in gold.
It is starlight, burnt through a velvet field
that chains me here.
It is honey and hot wine
that haunts my sleep,
by the onomatopoeia
of obsession.
With a lunar caustic kiss
she hexed me.
Woven in her six-sided circle
those rubies in the
hollow of her neck
and fingers that shimmer
like ice.
The Sphinx of Eros.
That heathen curl.
Smoke to hide the ivory!
Spoke to lock the memory!
Caught in click clack shutters
by the silver foaming pond.
Froth from the chambers of
ebony rough hewn hearts.
O starlight!
That raptures me hungry
for bloodsoaked lips
red as fury!
And I sang;
O lord & commoner, I sang!
To the weepings of a sombre, sudden,
stinging violin,
in empty vinyl crackle
from music soaked in paint,
with a voice
like burning velvet
An Egon Schiele painting
stretched on dream
and sullen sparking glances
tipped in gold.
It is starlight, burnt through a velvet field
that chains me here.
It is honey and hot wine
that haunts my sleep,
by the onomatopoeia
of obsession.
With a lunar caustic kiss
she hexed me.
Woven in her six-sided circle
those rubies in the
hollow of her neck
and fingers that shimmer
like ice.
The Sphinx of Eros.
That heathen curl.
Smoke to hide the ivory!
Spoke to lock the memory!
Caught in click clack shutters
by the silver foaming pond.
Froth from the chambers of
ebony rough hewn hearts.
O starlight!
That raptures me hungry
for bloodsoaked lips
red as fury!
And I sang;
O lord & commoner, I sang!
To the weepings of a sombre, sudden,
stinging violin,
in empty vinyl crackle
from music soaked in paint,
with a voice
like burning velvet
There you have it, each of the members of the League. Pretty evident each of their own individual and unique super-powers? As one, they are strong, but together, they are EXTRAORDINARY. You can check out more of their wacky adventures at their site: http://leagueofextraordinarypoets.wordpress.com/
If you have a gig you'd like us to perform at, please contact us by commenting on this blog post, or alternatively via email at: leagueofextraordinarypoets@gmail.com
Here's to another exciting year for 2013! Hats out to Rachael and Vuong for being cripples, that way for earning a legitimate parking spot in Handicap zones for gigs and shenanigans! Much love.
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