By by Anton Martin Smith Antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com or martinantonsmith@gmail.com
If Australia gets too much worse
I predict around the year 2032 it'll change it's name
from Australia to "Smellstraaya"
The new capital?:"Schmelbourne"
The new PM?: "Iyamba B. Smelly' (From Broken Hill)
The New Winter Sport "Smelly Rules"
The New Summer Sport? Cricket (The Gentelman's Game will not change)
TL:DR #Australia stop convicting yerselves...
OR IT WILL BE A BIG SMELLY MESS...
Apart From The Next ASHE'S Series (Go England)
#Austrlaia Now Please Be A Good Fellow And Unconvict yourselves!
Just Think Of The Tee Shirt When You Do:
I Stopped Australia From Stinking.....
.....And All I Got Was This Lousy Tee Shirt.
Bonus Material What does the new WordPress AI Podcast Bot think of this Poem? Listen below!
by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmith@gmail.com or martinantonsmith@gmail.com
‘Writers Block’ Is very handy. For Example: When you meet someone who doesn’t read? Out Comes The Block. You asked the said non-reader to close their eyes. Then…. !Whack! Rough justice employed.
Another example: You are at a poetry reading. You come across the “toolbox poet”. They’ve had an easy life. Their parents are (of course) still together, upper middle class types. Their progeny is this ‘toolbox poet’. It is they that is trifecta-masacre-ing you’re brain, eyes, and ears, Has never known poverty or genuine struggle. Is quite possibly what the Americans refer to as a ‘Trust-Fund Baby’.
Alas ‘Toolbox Poets’ – They have nothing to say, Yet yield Hiroshima like damage on new poetic pastures, usually in urban locales. They use ‘form’ like a mega-sledgehammer. They use rhyme far too much and for no good reason. Their empty platitudes flow like the cheap tract-nouveau-riche-wine, Delivered to their and their parents friends pristine well swept doorsteps, Like the badge of copy-cat-ism-style of dishonor it surely is.
The ‘Toolbox Poet’ not knowing what truth is – uses hearty dollops of ‘false mystery’. ‘False mystery’ is the poetic version of verbal sophistry – Basically they use empty-misjoint-imagery spoken with faux gravitas, To swindle audiences who have not yet purchased ‘intellectual imposter glasses’.
So where was I?
Yes let me backtrack to ‘Writer’s Block’ (the non-metaphoric physically real kind). ‘Writers block’ comes in handy with run-ins with the ‘Toolbox Poet’ set. And as my prescriptive advice, Simply throw said block from the very ‘back of the back’ of said room, Ideally throw from behind a billowy curtain or from an appropriate alcove. Aim for the trajectory to have a nicely curved parabola, but not too curved – less it miss its mark – i.e. the Toolbox Poets ‘schnoz’. Too flat a trajectory – and you risk hitting the audience. Watch this glorious ‘Writers Block’ fly with feeling-imbued-slow-ity through the air, Until it completely nulify’s the ‘toolbox poet’ in mid-bad-stanza, Mid-bad-imagery-rhyme & mid-flowery-false-platitude. And Congrats! You hit with a bullseye’d ‘schnoz splashdown’ (NB: in the event that you missed? – Abort mission & stay behind said curtain or alcove & whistle quietly).
And for when the audience turns around post successful ‘Toolbox Poet’ assassination & wonders what has happened? Well you just stand there sans curtain, whistle quietly & hold your hands behind your back, Contemplating your next ‘writers block attack’. Yes my friends of good and great writing – Contrary to popular sentiment – As I have outlined in detail above, ‘Writer’s Block’ comes in very handy. In this the stolen-valor-filled-faux-literary-world. Yes the valiant soldier wielding the ‘Writer’s Block’ is a poet-not-just-a-poet, But is also a well battle scarred poverty knowing poet-vigilante, Who’s parents duly hated each others guts and then in five to ten got truthfully divorced. And in so doing accidently created a glorious poet-vigilante, Willing to swiftly and parabolically destroy the high-crimes-of-poetic-dastardry – Wherever the ‘Toolbox Poet’ plies this evil solipsistic trade, Or doth present their oversized probably-open-mic’d-big-target-wearing-schnoz.
Hazaar to the Poet-Vigilante & his mighty non-aerodynamic ‘Writer’s Block’. Hopefully he is not deluded, Hopefully he is not living in a fantasy world of his own choice, Hopefully he is not merely ‘projecting’ some twisted internal trauma based misery. Hopefully he has met his ‘Jungian shadow’ and now gets on not just like a ‘house on fire’, But as the houses warm embers the day after the house was on fire. Oh yes – I know what you’re thinking. It would be a shame if this ‘poet vigilante’ I speak of was in fact ‘dead wrong’ – For all this would be a waste of time and a total ‘all encompassing lie’. It would be an exercise in acute effrontery (which is definitely not cute). But surely not – surely he is not then a ‘Poet Terrorist’. Surely not dear highly-intelligent-literary-loving and truth loving avid reader! After all – we’ve all seen the multitudes of ‘Toolbox Poets’ that abound – The ones that litter the urban poet-scapes like maimed-and-hobbling-town-square-pigeons? I ask of you dear discerning reader of near angelic virtue – have we not seen them everywhere? Of course we have….Of course we have…..Of course we have. I’d stake my very reputation on it. And let me give you the tip – That’s worth more than a few cases of ‘Smith’s Luxurious Highly-Blunted Flying Writer’s Blocks’.
by Anton Martin Smith Antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com or Martinantonsmith@gmail.com (I use this one most)
Yes we came up from the gutters…and the wrong side of the Tracks – Lemmy Kilmister
I’ve been on rooves clearing out leaves from gutters. This is one of the tasks I do to make some money in my day job. I’ve done 2 rooves in 2 days. Wealthy folk with big houses where if your ladder falls your in for a trip to the ER. this week I got ‘lucky’ – I got 6 out of 7 days booked with jobs. This little business keeps me mentally healthy, fit and allows me to do fun things like work on this creative site. Yes it is the ‘day job’ although since I’m self employed it’s a bit more than that. In theory it could ‘take off’.
But of course – theoretically I’d rather have my writing take off. If I was really smart I’d ramp up my advertising and employ some sucker to do all the work and I would write all day and try to get things published. That would be pretty wild to do that. I wonder if it would be easier than it seems.
Sometimes I think about the ability to make money. I think growing up poor gives you some good and bad programming. On the good side you can learn to live frugally – because you had to growing up. I think that ability stays with you for life. in business that’s a ‘cost side benefit’. But on the negative side – I think growing up poor makes you think that having a lot of money is some kind of ‘mystical thing that’s not for us because we are poor’. In business that would perhaps be called ‘revenue atrophy problem’.
You see in business you got to go out and get sales, then you get money. The poor programming doesn’t see this reality. In my business I have to go out and make sales – so I have broken that old cycle BUT I don’t think I have broken it enough YET. You see I don’t really push sales – I tend to ‘go after’ them with the pressure of a low bank balance. If I was truly over my childhood no money upbringing of thinking ‘money was a mystical thing we don’t see’ I’d push myself to make more sales.
Oh well I have time to improve in this life on many things & this is one of them. The good thing is when I make a sale I am truly helping someone, clean their driveway or take leaves from the gutters, mow lawns, fix a fence etc. This is good as I don’t need to feel I’m a ‘corporate sell out’ who is (for example) selling overpriced insurance to people that don’t need it etc.
In other news we are heading into winter here in South Island NZ. It gets freeezing here – which is great for reading and writing so YAY WINTER.
On the writing front I am editing my new novella which I am worried is too boring – I’m wondering if the main character needs to do something wild. But I’m also thinking I’ve never done a story where nothing much happens, so perhaps this could be a test case. It does have a lot of underlying existential philosophy in it, so I’m hoping this will be the thing that makes people like it. It’s about a guy that lives in the higher plain of the ‘holographic world’ and is having one of his regular jaunts as a physical being on a planet as a joe schmoe. In this case the joe schmoe is a High School principal who is a functional alcoholic that travels to the neighboring town to get drunk at the pubs. This happens a lot I think with the ‘teacher’ set.
For the record I don’t like teachers much (and at root it’s because they live in an cloistered Marxist intellectual fishbowl) but let’s not get into it NB(people always pretend teachers are ‘great’ yet everyone agrees the good teachers they had were few and far between). And yes there are always that 10-20% V. Good to Great Teachers – I won’t be so mean spirited to deny that truth. The good ones must suffer their colleagues with grace no doubt.
Anyway these were just some quick thoughts.
happy creativity everyone and thanks for reading and liking my stuff – especially the guys who do it regularly – I really appreciate it!
Now it’s time for me to have a beer (I have 2 a night and it’s a fantastic tonic).
‘May all your gutters be clean’.
We who grew up poor may have (As Lemmy said) ‘come up from the gutters…’ but I will add this to that line
…that doesn’t mean we can’t bloom be be a giant sunflower that somehow crawled out of a deep crack in the concrete after having finally seen the light of the eternal supernova
p.s. My DM’s are open (email me an idea or comment)
by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com or martinantonsmith@gmail.com
This is a strange situation. If you would back the clock to when I was between age 19 and 21 and for 18 months was unable to get out of bed in my student flat in Dunedin NZ – then the answer would be obvious. I was not happy – quite the reverse. If you asked me that question at age 32 with a poorly paid corporate job in Melbourne with a bunch of regular drunken escapisms/escapades attached – again I would say ‘no I was not definitely not happy’. You see in those two situations of my personal history, there was an element of ‘black and white to it all. When things are black and white it’s easier. But things are only ‘black and white’ from certain perspectives. This is why a common car thief or the socialist student that burns down a business can explain to someone with a straight face that they are helping society. Delusions/Ego stop us from seeing the black and white realities about ourselves.
So I can see that when I was younger I was not happy, from the perspective of many years later I can see the black and whiteness of it. But what about my happiness or sadness right now? Now I’m officially middle aged at age 47 soon 48, the answer is still at this very second as I write not truly obvious to me.
There is a ‘grey area’ to it. Of course, I have talked in the past on an intellectual level about whether the well known traditional Philosophical question ‘should we aim to be happy’ – but I won’t dwell on that now other that to summarize that overall the position held is that it is a little foolish to want to be ‘happy all the time’ as an adult – as we struggle under the many life pressures the world puts upon our shoulders day to day, month to month, year to year.
The smartest position as a grown adult is (possibly) to exchange contentedness for happiness. I agree with that idea. It’s a more reasonable position. Even with this newer definition of happiness – I still see that I wasn’t ‘content’ at those age 19-21 or at age 32 prior self-examples. That’s because they were genuinely unquestionably full of obviously bad things.
With this in mind – at 47 soon 48, I guess I am at least ‘arguably content’ most of the time. For example there are quite a few times when I really do feel ‘happy’ (which I’ll now redefine as moderate to high elation) and even more with the lower definition of ‘contentedness’. I won’t bother to define contentedness – I think it’s roughly self explainitory (but go to a dictionary if needed!).
Ok so nowadays I’m quite often content. Lets say that now. I’ll add some more life data points:
I am not rich – I live a hand to mouth, self employed, low income, low cost life. I act as a part time caregiver to a family member. I have access to a cheap lodgings, though that may change in the medium term. My job is physical – carpentry and gardener work. When I need more money, I have to find more work. This has mostly been working in terms of ‘survival money’ – I eat ok, go for a coffee a few times a week, a takeaway meal a two or three times. I do not make enough for middleclass holidays, like I was able to at age 32 working in corporate offices. I live in a small town of 6000, picturesque, quiet with little urban trappings such as events, nightlife, dating culture etc. I have a cat, and another that visits and lives on my roof.
More data points: I have for the last 5 years written lot of creative stuff (on this website/blog). I am single, which now looks like ‘life long bachelor’ status. I have not gone out with anyone since I was in Australia a decade ago. I put this down to the fact I never actually meet anyone a little like me these days. The few regular male friends I have I’ve known since I was 13 or even younger. I don’t really have any female friends, like I had in urban Australia. So that’s the generic raw life-data on me.
You see I had some on the face of it some plusses in Australia (socially, more money etc) but it did not translate to happiness/elation or general contentedness. I do miss the conversations here and their & the female energy friendships – yes I do. BUT you see those things were ruined because at age 32 I had not had the years to have worked on myself as much as I have now some 16 years later aged 47 soon 48. And I think this is the difference – I needed to put the self reflection and mirror looking and question asking work in before I could ever have the chance to be content, let alone to have a shot at ‘regular happiness/elation feelings’. So I guess I have answered my quandry in a very simple manner. I am at the least mildly content because I have benefitted from ‘working on myself’ for perhaps now for fifteen years straight.
I guess I have to now think about the regret that this kind of improvement to contentedness brings. Their is a sadness when looking back to all the chaos that being discontented brings. The pressure of relationships. The broken relationships. When with one discontented person or two discontented persons ‘go out with each other’, there is a natural tendency towards disaster, war, hurt feelings, grudges. And the sad thing is that when you have done work on yourself, you know that when looking back to your raw troubled unworked self – you know you simply got back ‘what you were putting out onto the universe’. This is not to be all ‘woo woo’ – it’s just really about congruence and vibration. Troubled people with unresolved or repressed issues will resonate in environments that have the same dynamic. Be they Jobs Lovers, Wives, Husbands or Friends.
The good thing about self-work is you can see the past for what it was, accept it. Forgive. Ultimately you accept it as the learning experience you had to have to become the person you are now – at least ‘somewhat content’ – and with more potential for becoming more content in the future. As I write these words I can’t help but think it’s all a bit too glib, to much out of the pages of some ‘self help’ shelf in a non descript early 2000s bookshop. Even so I think it is true. With my advancing age the self-work is now paying off. Yes glib but true – ‘time can heal many wounds’. I’ve realized that just to be ‘half decent’ actually also takes work. If you do zero work on yourself you will be not be very nice – that’s the default. Yes there are probaly people who are great from birth to death (because of great parents? A great town?) – but that would be the exception that proves the rule.
We live in a world that is far too throwaway, stressful, competitive. And more so in bigger and bigger urban environments like the one I was in in Australia when I was 32 (Melbourne). I think those big cities if you are just flowing along the ‘social corporate urban river’ the toxicity can become like the goldfish bowl is to the goldfish bowl. I think when I was in that environment it was too easy to ignore how extremely important self-work, healing work is. For example in big cities relationships can be disposable – because there’s always a new sucker just around the corner.
I guess I could be wrong – perhaps I am more unhappy than I think I am – but perhaps that unhappiness is just like an artists car – it breaks down because the artist owner refuses to do the basics of maintenance – check the oil, tires, lights, clean the McDonalds wrappers out from the foot areas etc. I now know that that kind of ‘stock unhappiness’ in the car example to be a good example of how to cure these kinds of ‘peripheral unhappinesses in yourself’. Just like if the artist isn’t feeling well one day and puts oil in their car, checks their tires etc, a persons ‘temp unhappinesses’ can be worked away by things such as exercise, deep rest, good nutrition, avoiding having mean people as best friends etc.
Anyway I thought I would share these feelings on the journey to wellbeing & contentedness, with a few jolts of elation sneaking in just for good measure. I wrote this personal post as I think we should all support each other on this very common journey, and to do that we need to talk openly of our lives and struggles.
Because a lot of discontent (and so also the downstream effects of chaos) is not nearly as permanent as your prior 19 or 32 year old self thinks at the time. But you do need to focus and spend the time, & that won’t be easy. I should also specifically add that being creative seems to help a lot. I think we were all made to be creative. To not express it at all surely creates some kind of amorphous blob internal discontent or energetic ‘blockage’ of some sort. And remember creativity for health does not need to be ‘good’. Many years ago (when I was still very unhappy with a lot of work to do) I once shamefully told a lady that her art was ‘not good’ because of perceived technical reasons…oh how I missed the point.
For others on the well being journey – I hope my words help in some way, perhaps you have similar or different takes (feel free to share in the comments!).
Let us all heal as we peal the oranges of life, and may the many slips on life’s banana skins whisk us away to a beautiful beachside towel with a responsibly drank pina-colada and a great book (haha!). Rose-tinted but wise? Perhaps we may be so lucky for those we wronged long ago to one day see or hear that our older and wiser words are indeed genuine and forgive us. That would of course ne a cherry on the top – as our internal wellbeing is the main prize.
Anyway these were a few thoughts of my ideas on journeys to better places.
Anton Martin Smith Writer 