Saturday 14 March 2009

Taking a break



"The FUCK poem!"

FUCK dogs
FUCK cats
FUCK birds
FUCK fish
FUCK trees
FUCK the beach
FUCK your nature strip
FUCK your homes and gardens
FUCK your 4 wheel drive
FUCK your sports ute
FUCK your BMW
FUCK your vintage rolls
FUCK your Vincent black lightning
FUCK your 38 ford v8 chopper
FUCK your laws and orders
FUCK your jails and mental institutions
FUCK your terrorist paranoia
FUCK your rich fat inflated new age self-lovin’ paraphernalia
FUCK self-avoiding finger-pointing victim thrust
FUCK yr dirty looks
FUCK your dirty minds
FUCK your finger lickin bubblin-under suppressed paedophilia
FUCK the stupid flag
FUCK nostalgia
FUCK Australia
FUCK your bank accounts
FUCK credit extensions
FUCK your hypertension
FUCK your gold card wine rack
FUCK you right up the crack between your stupefied day job and your late night porno movie wank
FUCK your mortgage
FUCK your semi-legal drugs
FUCK meth ice crack smack
FUCK your feel good pills
FUCK your crucifixion bloodlust
FUCK yr endless paranoia about drug busts
FUCK yr clothing that just about covers up your monstrous self-loathing
FUCK yr beliefs
FUCK your god
FUCK trust
FUCK lust
FUCK madness
FUCK sadness
FUCK the rich and
FUCK the poor
FUCK your illness
FUCK your secret lies
FUCK compassion
FUCK your mission
FUCK aggression
FUCK your permission to fill in what’s missin with 50 fucking fucks
FUCK circumcision
FUCK seduction
FUCK rape
FUCK sodomy
Fuck FUCK
FUCK old people
FUCK kids
FUCK racism
FUCK political correctives
FUCK shock jocks with tiny fuckin cocks
FUCK life
FUCK your wife
FUCK the world
FUCK your girl
FUCK you yeah FUCK you yeah FUCK you
FUCK poetry
FUCK this venue
FUCK Byron Bay
FUCK the councillors
FUCK the mayor
FUCK pussy whipped employees everywhere
FUCK everything not included here
FUCK this poem
FUCK never saying FUCK
Fuck EVERYTHING I say
And if you don’t agree

Well…..

FUCK ME

(Daevid Allen)


"Greetings friends!

In response to widespread enquiries I have attached the curious story of Stefanie and I being thrown out of the Woodford Folk Festival in the good old boy Australian state of Queensland at the end of 2008 for unrestrained POETIC use of that universal magick word affectionately known as FUCK.

Apparently it is OK that people of all persuasions use FUCK in all walks of life EXCEPT in a poetic, humorous or imaginative literary performance. Such is life in the deep north of the sixth most retrograde, over regulated and childishly obedient nation in the world. If you imagine that, in Australia, at an apparently alternative folk festival, the festival organisers might have some idea of the popularity and breadth of modern performance poetry and its use of multi media in 2008.

Given that I was partly responsible (see Machine Poets with William Burroughs) for the pioneering of multi media poetry performance in Paris and London ICA in 1962 and in fact represented Australia with the same show at the Paris Biennale of 1967, my treatment by Woodford Festival poetry organiser Shirley Friend seems just a trifle over the top. But then, as you see here, they wouldn't want to know about all that. They only seem to know about BUSH poetry and maybe also a little bit of SLAM poetry might be allowed....So welcome to modern Queensland alternative culture my friends. But dont you worry about that. There are plenty of pumpkin scones!

Love and pataphysical belly laughs,

daevid"

7 comments:

  1. oh i know ... it took me 21 fucking years to get out of that fucking fuckless fuckstate full of fucking fucks .

    ... i'd love to hear the full story !!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Found @ the 'planet gong' web site but that is all there was, am waiting for Bob from 'That Striped Sunlight sound' to fill me in on any more details. Interestingly when i lived in Amsterdam before coming to Oz ALL the Aussies there were all queenslanders escaping Sir Joh's nazi regime!
    Regards/

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  3. ok i'll check it out ...
    ... i knew i had to get out back in '81 when i had 3 good friends commit suicide on the beautiful idyllic sunshine coast [ ... currently drowning in an oil slick] . the good old days are only good 'cause theyre gone .
    regards to you too sir
    love your work

    ReplyDelete
  4. And what makes you certain I am a 'Sir'?
    Regards/

    ReplyDelete
  5. only a closed mind is certain ... & i aint ...

    ReplyDelete
  6. Hey Mona I posted a reply to this, did it get lost
    Must of put the wrong letters in
    the box below
    Bugger cause it was a long one.
    Facebook me if you what another
    my friend

    ReplyDelete
  7. Ok lets try again,
    Now don't be to hard on Queensland,
    repression is a creative force you know. A lot of artistic creative expression came out of the Joh years.
    But that was such a long time ago.
    I am blissfully unaware of this incident of which you speak, I only made it to Woodford for a day/evening and never in 10 years of going and camping at the entire festival did I make it to a poets breakfast, in fact I rarely made it out the tent before 10 am.
    I will make these observations however. The Woodford Maleny folk experience has changed a lot over the years. A lot of the earlier influences have disappeared, the union input, the feral hippy input, the hardcore socialist input, the Murrie input, it has morphed to the enormous family friendly alternative festival that it is. The political edge has softened, they jumped on some of the earlier practices which have mostly dissappeared too. like obvious drug taking and public nudity. More the shame really. The performances too have become more professional and at the same time it has branched out into new directions. All in all it still a special thing, even if I preferred the smaller vibe of the dreaming festival last year. I haven't been to say the National Folk Festival in Canberra, but I'd imagine that a performance of the poem in question would get the same kind of response, if not get you arrested. Esp at 9 am, you would get away with this late evening, they have a lot of late night comedy and those guys can evoke the odd adult concept.
    A bit of a storm in a teacup I'd say and of course soon as censorship and Queensland appear together the ghost of Joh appears like magic.

    ReplyDelete