Bukowski – Anton Martin Smith Writer

“Saved by Bukowski & The Girlbosses” (Prose)

July 7, 2026July 7, 2026Posted in UncategorizedTagged Angels, Bukowski, charles-bukowski, Girlbosses, God, God vs The Devil, life, London, Love, MCG, Melbourne, New York, Paris, Poetry, The Devil, writingLeave a comment

Older man with beer and cigarette talks to woman in business attire holding coffee

by Anton martin Smith antonmartinsmith@gmail.com or martinantonsmith@gmail.com

I don’t know why they all can’t see it.

My twisted angel Bukowski was correct in what he said a few years ago:

‘About something small they protest wildly, but about wasting their entire lives they don’t even batt an eyelid’.

Yes I agree with you – it is hard to believe – but yes he was definitely one of mine.

Contrary to your popular media – my angels are not all harp-playing-ephemeral-floating-singing-clichés.

When I send one down I go with the ‘when in Rome’ thesis of blending in.

I have many a ‘drunk truth teller’ like Charles Bukowski in my ranks.

For how could I get to the people that need me most of I didn’t?

But of course, I didn’t make the Earth for it to end like this, the way it is now.

I made trees, rivers, seas, jungles, and endless savannahs.

I gave a warm sun to heat, melt and grow things as where needed.

I filled them with tasty animals and fruits for them to eat without much effort.

I made things just hard enough to catch so that my children would get enough exercise.

I made things just dangerous enough so that they would not get bored.

I made plenty of unfenced land so that if somewhere was bad, there would be many better places to go to.

I made the land large and the people scarce so there would be no need to ever be forever-crowded.

In short – I made a sustainable paradise full of bounty and freedom for all.

But my adversary (of course) had other plans.

He wanted concrete instead of rocks.

He wanted false indoor light instead of the sunlight.

He wanted to stack people on top of each other in concrete encasings so they would fight.

He wanted to put a lock on the bountiful food and land.

He wanted men to be women and women to be men to kill marriage and sacrifice children.

He wanted work that felt like work but produced nothing but strange enslaving symbols.

So as we negotiated terms I said to him:

Ok I will agree to the game – we will see how they play – whoever’s ideas are the best will win.

You can have whoever you convince,

And I will follow the same rules and have who I convince.

I am sure people will prefer water from a waterfall that a bottle.

I am sure people will prefer sunlight to harsh glowing tubes.

I am sure men will not want to act like women and vice versa.

I am sure people will realise their strange symbols and wasted time will make them fools.

I am sure people will prefer freedom of movement to concrete laden bustling cages.

Sure you’ll ensnare a few, that goes without saying.

But a house of cards must always fall.

My adversary took the bargain.

He was happy to simply have a chance to destroy and steal a few souls.

He knew he could never beat me – after all I allowed him to exist at all.

He – as the negotiations closed said – ‘you never know, through some strange twist of fate I might somehow win’.

He has super-intelligence but little wisdom you see.

As if he could ever beat myself – it is quite laughable indeed.

So the deal was done – we would let a game play out and it has.

Now many millennia later – we are almost entirely done.

But it would be remiss of me to not share some worries.

I am a little worried about how things are going right now.

I never thought he’d succeed in making his cities so large.

He kept saying with shameless glee as he watched over the mega-cities.

“Grow my prettys grow – look at them live on top of each other – ain’t it grand?”

“The Economy is stealing their days so beautifully”

“They all believe in their Careers – especially my beloved army of Girl-bosses”

“I can’t believe I am taking their lives away so easily”

“The light behind their eyes is so beautifully dulled that I could cry”

“I cannot believe the men are like corrupted women and the women are like corrupted men”

“All I had to do was broadcast a web of lies, coral them into small spaces, then give them cash, drugs & sex”

“I’ll take this easy victory while I can”

So I have had to intervene – while still playing within the rules.

I will beat him at his own game.

I have made London, Paris, Melbourne & New York a special kind of hellhole.

I’ve decided to let his foot-soldiers – the ‘feminist girl-bosses’ have ‘free reign’ on all of those cities.

Vice of all types will bloom but not for no good reason.

Those cities will fall so quickly it will serve as a beacon of warning to all others.

A high-tech modern-day rerun of ‘Sodom and Gomorrah’, if you will.

So then the ‘Return of Eden’ can swiftly return.

And my enemy can admit his inevitable inglorious defeat.

And he will say “I lay aghast – I was beaten by my own foot-soldiers of glorious death”.

And I will say “I told you so – why did you question me at all?”.

And he replies:

“I’m an evil bastard – I couldn’t help it – Oh well at least I’ll always have London, Paris, Melbourne and New York”

To which I replied “But only because I let you you low-wisdom fool!”.

The evil one knowing the truth then painfully retreated and relented remorsefully.

“I admit defeat. Thank you for the collateral damage – it was a delight – & I’m really gonna miss the M.C.G the most”.

And then as he sloped away to his prepared eternal fiery dungeon he looked over his shoulder and said one more thing:

“That strategy of sending Bukowski first and the Girlbosses second – that really was a masterstroke”.

I just nodded quietly – after all I always knew things would play out this way – after all I did create the place didn’t I?.

And now we all live in paradise in New Eden, well a fair few of us do anyway.

The rest are at a fiery M.C.G. with their false idol still enjoying the bread & circuses – they still don’t know they’re in hell.

“If Sods Law Prevails – Do You Get Your Spade Out?”. (Prose /Pseudo-Blog)

June 7, 2026July 7, 2026Posted in UncategorizedTagged blog, Bukowski, Carpentry, Cockney, John Martin, Landscaping, Life Advice, Rhyming Slang, Self Appraisel, Sililoquoy, slice of lifeLeave a comment

Woman studying at a desk with laptop, books, notes, and drinks

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmith@gmail.com Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

It’s been a hard week. I am very tired.

But then again, compared to London slum -era workers circa 1875 – I’ve had it bloody easy.

To the accusation “We have become too soft” – I think it’s at the least partly true.

(But it’s now Sunday and in either case, I am either well rested or have stolen undue rest.)

This feeling I have is a ‘good tired’ though – because I achieved something real.

(I like to sound positive these days – I am older, wiser & realise ‘abject pessimism’ sabotages a life).

Yes I was disciplined throughout the week – the secret is to have a system and stick to it.

(But I still slept in like a ‘fat capitalist’ – but my system can handle sleeping in).

What did I do? I worked on carpentry, garden landscaping and writing & of it was ‘mine’.

(I’m a hybrid you see, am I a self employed working class pseudo genius? Yes I am).

May I be so bold to call Carpentry, Gardening & Writing the “grand trifecta”?

(And I did like to have a flutter in my youth – mainly horse racing until I realized it a swindlers vs losers game)

And now after all my great physical work, I am weary.

(This is true – excuse me while I yawn – of life?).

Or as The great Kiwi Cricketer Sir Richard Hadlee said in his autobiography “The Double”.

(I shouldn’t talk of Sports – but ol’ Paddles was a more of a phenomenon. For him I’ll make an exception)-

His mantra: “No I am not tired – I am just ‘pleasantly weary’ “

(That’s called using a ‘Jedi Mind Trick’ on yourself).

Yep so back to physical work – on the Carpentry side – the Gib flew up to the ceiling.

(Because I am strong as an Ox maaaaate – sorry for that, I am one quarter Australian),

And then (just like men do in society these days) it all got ‘heavily screwed’ .

(Just look down at any gutter and ask a bloke that now lives there – he will agree via his tears and screams).

back to the physical – On the garden side – I got a spade and dug some weeds away and replaced it with gravel.

(Now you’re getting excited aren’t you..you you creep…you…garden-o-phile you!).

To circle back – the weeds that were thrown away are analogous to what 3rd Wave Feminism has done to men.

(We will be spread on their toast soon – mark my words – ManJamTM?).

Then I did some writing – I worked on poems, & on editing one of my Novellas.

(It’s easier than you think – you just start writing once every couple of days & ‘hey presto’ it emerges).

Who knows one day something may come of all this sillyness.

(But I need to network more *sigh* – do I need a girlboss PR manager?).

I’m crossing my fingers that this is not all a collosal waste of my life’s time .

(Like working in an chicken-coop-office your whole life in Melbourne New York or Paris).

You never know, I could end up ‘making it at fifty’ like the great Buk.

(I’m talkin’ about Bukowski the – famous San Pedro ‘poet of the gutters’).

But I wonder who my ‘John Martin’ will be?

(John Martin – The owner of Black Sparrow Press who discovered Buk @ paid him $100 a month in 1970)

Stranger things can happen in life to people who show grit and have a system and stick to it,

(But not as strange as an ex forgiving you AND being female)

And rareness (a version of strengness) can sometimes not just come in the form of hens teeth

(I don’t have any yet – luck that is, yet ‘hens teeth’ I have plenty of, but don’t ask me why.) –

But (in life) sometimes it can be the ‘Black Swan’ (or Black Swan event) that speaks fluent cockney ‘rhyming slang’ to you

(ok here it comes – a tribute to my forgotten but in-my-DNA English heritage):

Chin up son, (Self explanitory)

’bout time we went down to the ‘battle cruiser’, (go the the pub – the ‘boozer’)

Down a Pig’s Ear, (Have a Beer)

Forget about the ol’ pain & strife, (Your wife or missus at home)

Forget our worries about the lorries, (That’s not Rhyming Slang I just added it for fun)

Chat up the a few Twist and Twirls, (Chat up the ‘girls at the pub’)

& the next day just take a Sherbet ‘ome (Sherbet is a Taxi).

AND NOW ITS TIME TO QUIT WHILE BEHIND.

THIS IS AFTER ALL SHAMELESS FILLER (well It was before I edited it)

YOU SHOULD HAVE NEVER READ IT (But now I’ve edited it you should).

IT WAS A TURD THAT I BARELY POLISHED (Well now it’s a half-polished turd at least)

Sorry to shout – now you good folk have a good day (after all, I have to bale before ‘mediocre’ turns to ‘unreadable’)

Sh*t! – surely somebody somewhere saw something seriously saliently strange?.

P.s. I bet this partial-filler (it was 100% filler until I felt guilty) will be liked much more than my best and most considered stuff.

As The English would say “Sods Law…Sods Law”.

(But what can you do? If ‘Sods Law’ prevails. All you can do is get your spade out).

“Open Letter: Hey poet – Don’t steal Buk’s stellar 30 year Work Record”

May 11, 2026May 11, 2026Posted in UncategorizedTagged Antipodean Poet, Books, Buk, Bukowski, Copycat-ism, literary commentary, Literary Confrontations, Open Letter, poem, Poems, Poet Vs Poet, Poetry, poetry analysis, writingLeave a comment

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites.com or Martinantonsmith@gmail.com

I called out a fellow Buk fan & I was ‘blocked’.

This fellow Antipodean Poet also loves Buk.

Like me he mentions him all the time.

Sidebar:You can love Bukowski AND not like some of his bad drunken behavior.

That’s cool.

I applaud him for recognizing Buk’s literary genius.

BUT he ruins it all by doing this:

He tells his audience that he’s essentially ‘just like Buk’.

BUT

He has a patchy at best work record.

More holes in his CV than swiss cheese.

His dole check to work week ratio cannot have more than two-fifths MAX.

YET

He implies to his audience that he’s been working “thirty years straight in shit jobs just like Buk”.

Look, my Antipodean-warmer-climes-fellow-GenX-Pal,

Poetry is supposed to be about Truth.

Poets are supposed to be Truthful above all else.

None of this ‘Stolen Work Record Valor’ OK?

Oh did I mention?

In between the holes he was a ‘Marketing Man’.

Marketing Men love to lie to get results.

So what I would say to you oh ‘Fake Antipodean Buk’ is this:

If your were a true Poet,

Bernaysian Chicanery wouldn’t rule your tongue.

The Truth would.

Deep down I think you know this,

And are wondering about the sword of Damocles.

Or should I saw ‘The sword of Buk’?

Huh?

Riddle me that oh you Poetic antipodean hybrid of Bernays & Goebels.

But I am a reasonable man,

I am willing to throw you this crumb:

Perhaps I’ve got it wrong,

For there has always been scammy poets.

Who don’t give a rats about the Truth.

So perhaps you are a ‘poet’.

With a ‘small p’.

I implore you to capitalize your P forthwith – by admitting you were lazy with real world jobs.

And that’s why you hardly worked at all.

After all that is no sin to admit – in fact that’s honorable.

A ‘Big P Poet’ would definitely do this.

They might even wear it as a ‘badge of honor”.

But you lie about it, and suggest you grind-worked every day from age twenty to fifty –

‘Just like Buk did’.

That’s called intellectual dishonesty my friend.

And no Cap P Poet ever does this treasonous act.

And I’m sure BUK would agree.

He would say this:

“Be the hero in and of your own story YES – but don’t dare write about someone else pal”.

“Don’t Be An Alco If You Can Help It – A Tribute To Buk” (A Prose Poem)

March 18, 2026April 11, 2026Posted in UncategorizedTagged Alcoho;, Alocoholism, Books, Budweiser, Buk, Bukowski, fiction, Forgiveness, Time, Women, Womenkind, writingLeave a comment

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

Perhaps no writer has told of the average joe’s plight in the nine-to-five drudge.

Than the great Bukowski.

Yes he was a sleaze – he admitted this himself.

This is why he agreed to write the newspaper column ‘Notes of a dirty old man’.

But let’s be honest at least half of urban-nine-to-five slave-women like sleazes – at least sometimes.

You see it’s about utilitarianism – They can use the sleaze & then throw them away.

They are conveinient, disposable.

They are fun during bar-night-ovulations or during rolling personal crises that is ‘modern city life’.

So while half of urban western women say they hate Buk – They are are at least intrigued by a wild animal type like Bukowski.

Because Buk was more a phenomenon of our dystopian reality just as much as he was a ‘dirty old man’.

I mean the cliché is that all women like a ‘bad boy’.

Clichés have to at least be half true – don’t they?

Of course they are.

And that’s why at least as many Western dystopian city livin’ women love Bukowski as hated him, & probably more.

Although he did say himself that he ‘let women push him around’, & that’s why they liked him so much.

But that was a schoolboy analysis, even he would know that – after all, he had a big brain.

But I think – on top of the ‘Western city dystopia effect’ – he was at least a hybrid of both a ‘pushover & a bad boy’.

Perhaps it was the hybrid nature that intrigued his many boozy women that he talked of in his novel ‘Women’.

But then again most of Buk’s women were fellow ‘bottom of the barrel types’.

They were alcoholics, party animals, literal prostitues etc.

Though later in life Buk said he ‘couldn’t be bothered with bars no more’ –

He ‘just wanted to sit in a quiet room with a beer and his thoughts’.

You see even an dive-bar-livin’-alco like Buk can’t party much past fifty.

There’s the famous video where he gets pissed at Linda (his wife) because she keeps partying big.

In the infamous video she is unrepentant & says “I’ll keep going out at night & I’ll see whoever I want”.

This makes Buk ‘see red’ – he threatens to ‘Get his Jewish lawyers to kick her out’.

She is again unrepentant to his discomfort & his view of ‘how it should be’.

He loses it, his anger boils over & as the are both at opposite ends of the couch,

He starts kicking her like a child would – it looks bad on camera but there’s no force behind the kicks.

He ruined his poise & argument there.

It was a good argument to not be an alcoholic if you can help it at all.

Because if you’re deeply damaged – and most of us are – alcohol takes all your problems and makes a stage show of them.

But if you are (an alco) and you can’t (stop), it also helps (like Buk was) to be an entertainer, artist or writer – and living in America

They kinda issue you a ‘free pass to misbehave’ over there.

This is why America has both the best art and literature and the worst behavour.

So Rest In Peace Buk – may you be soaking in a giant vat of Budweiser in the clouds.

You behaved bad AND made great art.

The embodiment of the USA.

For the record I was a binge drinker for fifteen years, but not an alcoholic.

These days I just sit in a quiet room, drink two beers a night & write.

Like Bukowski my wild party days are long gone.

All I have left are a few wild memories.

And sometimes I really miss my (watered down) version of the various Bukowski Boozy Babes.

As Bukowski’s life was a testament to:

Time really does turn deadly sharp edges into fuzzy warm curves.

The truth is they were both good and bad and you could not have one without the other.

This is why you should never ‘throw the baby out with the bathwater’.

Perhaps both the best saying and civic instruction to have ever lived.

So let us never throw Bukowski’s out of the pages of our literature.

“Disneyfication” (A Poem)

February 11, 2026February 12, 2026Posted in UncategorizedTagged Bukowski, Disneyfication, Poetry, poetry analysis, San Padro, Truth & PoetryLeave a comment

by Anton martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

And to the lights-on-but-no-one’s-home-folk that recoil in horror about a poem about BO?

Or a poem about the life being drained away from the eyes of the the human cubicle dweller?

Can’t you see that you rose-tinted-glasses view of the world isn’t helping anyone, let alone yourself?

The San Padro Poet was right when he talked about the ills of ‘Disneyfication’

There’s dirt, grunge, & bad smells & much worse in this world,

So let it be described in all it’s uncomfortable rancid true colors.

Though let’s be frank – the leafy greens types in aisle 7 will never catch on.

But perhaps a few will walk by the ‘gutter poetry aisle’ one day,

And look squarely at one of our poems,

Lift up their rose tinted glasses and read the first line or two,

And after the third line upon raising a single eyebrow up high,

Instead of the their usual loudly dismissive herumpf followed by clomping getaway feet –

There is just a barely audible ‘pfft’ followed by gentle mouse steps to the vacuum-packed salmon section.

Mickey Mouse will slowly start erasing himself from his big stupid ears to his oversize shoes,

Leaving only a dancing hand in a white glove & a pencil behind (in true cartoon style).

“An Embarrassing Mishap at the MIDCLAPS” (Prose).

January 12, 2026January 12, 2026Posted in UncategorizedTagged Books, Bukowski, Humour, Mainstream Poetry, poem, Poems, Poetry, Satan, social commentary, writingLeave a comment

By Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

The Envelope was delivered to the smartly dressed compere.

It was a ritzy affair, all paid for via legally stolen cash (of course).

The compare had a blank face even more blank than a blank page,

That was about to be filled with soulless blank copy-cat words,

From one of the many blank-headed nominees.

You know the ones – the ones that put the B in Banal, just as much as they put the ANAL in bANAL.

The compere’s smile was at least as fake as a Politician’s or a Real Estate Agents, or a Dentists for that matter.

He opened the letter slowly & with the accompanied ‘tinny’ drum roll sound playing from a 5 watt speaker.

And then his cold flappy bloodless gums started to flap, with sound coming out.

“And the winner this year …Of the Stock-Standard Middle-Class Poetry Awards, aka the “MIDCLAPS”… is…as it has been every year since inception…It Goes to….

Yes me Zombies! – ‘The Anti-Poetry Non-Truth Factory Poetry Division Collective’ strikes again!

And yes, I’m afraid to say they have one it for the 100th straight year!

Ain’t ‘Rigo-nomics’ grand folks!

They’ve won with the exact same poem, but they’ve slightly rehashed it!

Ooooh! This is so…so…anti-surprising, isn’t it?!

Let me read it to you, as I know you’re all dying to hear it.

Wintery Forest Leaves

As the wintery leaves fell through the dense windswept forest,

The agile birds swooped between the trees,

Like a thread going through a needle,

Their spirited cries echoed though the valley gorges,

And reminded us of our long ago forgotten home,

Which had the strange but stylish hyphenated name of: I-coonta-fookin-recalla”

WAIT A MINUTE DEAR AUDIENCE!

SOMEONE HAS ILLEGALLY INTERFERRED WITH THE WINNERS ENTRY!

THEY’VE FALSELY ADDED AN EXTRA THE LAST LINE OF THIS POEM!

They’ve made it interesting and/or witty and/or unique and/or truthful!

They went BIM BIM BIM

When it was BLAND BLAND BLAND we wanted!

THIS IS ILLEGAL POETRY MY FRIENDS AND WILL NOT BE TOLLERATED!

The MIDCLAPS Awards are on hold indefinitely pending an investigation into this travesty!.

For who knows dear audience & sponsors? –

Perhaps there is a coup going on inside ‘The Anti-Poetry Non-Truth Factory Poetry Division’?

If we don’t nip this in the bud ASAP where will we be hmmm?

Meaningful, Witty Unique & Truthful poetry will abound about the world!

‘The Masses’ will surely un-enslave themselves!

‘The Evil One’ won’t like it!

Yes, Yes Yes, calm down now, take your seats…quell your murmurs…I know we cannot have that folks.

Yes Yes Yes – to the Doctor Sir standing up, I can understand that – Yes ‘we cannot upset Satan’, I agree that ‘it’s against our oath’.

Yes Yes Yes to the madam Lawyer standing up, I agree ‘it’s against our mandate’ – to ‘keep all that’s good in the dark’.

Yes Yes Yes to the Real Estate agent standing up with the for-sale sign on forehead, I agree it’s against clause 6-66 of our constitution ‘Good people cannot be allowed to have good things’.

Don’t worry folks leave it with me and the good folks at the Anti-Poetry-League-Limited aka APOLE

You good folks can rest easy now as you know as much as I do:

SATAN himself – our CEO – would never let anyone take a bite into APOLE and get away with it.

Please enjoy the snack buffet on your way out.

“Some last musings in the last moments of 2025” (A Blog post)

December 31, 2025December 31, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged blog, Books, Bukowski, fiction, life, Nerds Vs Jocks, New Years, writingLeave a comment

First some housekeeping – I have just greatly updated my last post – the link is here https://antonmartinsmith.com/2025/12/30/the-ex-high-school-nerds-coalition-prose/.

It’s a witty piece about the nerd/jock high school thing – from the aging nerds perspective. It’s as irreverent as possible…but I hope it strikes a chord to a few readers – it should do as I can only guess most people here as writers or readers were probably ‘nerds’ in high school (as I was).

Anyway go read it – I’m sure it’ll make you laugh, or cry – or maybe you’ll hate it…perhaps you will feel indifferent. Those are the only four options are they not?

In my writing it’s easy to have a bunch of neurosis. Of course I am currently a ‘nobody’ – so I don’t want to sound ‘preachy’ when I don’t have the write to, er I mean the right to. But my point is that I am thinking you need to not let the worries about what (disembodied not actually real) people might think (or be annoyed at) when you write.

In my mind there’s a too conservative middle class boring person who is tsk tsking – or a overly white liberal pretending to be offended. But I tend to ignore these neurosis & just write what I’m trying to tell. But the whiney ‘don’t do that’ super-ego parental cartoon character on the shoulder definitely makes themselves heard – they are just there outside your choice. I guess assuming you are not a psycopath you just need to learn to ignore that annoying shoulder tsk tsk’ing guy.

Maybe if I ever properly publish something I’ll get to know if those white liberal complainers will have a go at my stuff – maybe that’s when I know I’m not totally terrible.

Anyway on the writing in 2025 it’s been a good year on my WordPress site – now I have 75% more of ‘not very much’ traffic – so I should pop the cork of some fancy French wine (that I don’t have). Beer is my thing. Beer is a wonderful thing, especially now that I drink properly & no longer need ten in a row (ah I am so so mature these days, drinking like the Europeans!).

Anyway it’s now five mins to midnight, & being in NZ we get the New Year first – so It’s a good time to hit ‘publish’ for the last time in 2025.

Whoever reads this, now or in the distant dystopian future (I guess it could be a utopian future but I doubt it!) thankyou so much for the effort in listening to my ordinary tales of madness (nod to San Pedro’s finest ‘dirty old man’ – the late great Bukowski)!

See you in a few days (give or take) & happy reading (& possibly) writing!

Anton Matin Smith

“Are All My Fave Writers Just Chumps?( An Idea/Article/Prose)

June 5, 2025October 27, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged Bukowski, Controlled Opposition, french-revolution, history, huxley, orwell, Phillip K. Dick, philosophy, Poems, politics, Power, Revolutionary, Science Fiction, social commentary, Social Structure, writing1 Comment

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

The best art that is thrown up by the system itself,

And described as the best art by the system itself,

Must be of the kind of art that lets out safely the pent up steam in the most discontented heads,

Strongly so but also safely so out of all the true latent Revolutionarys’ minds,

So as to the deflate the risk of a actual Revolution ever happening.

This is a good definition of what is called controlled opposition.

It is the most natural thing to see the following occur:

A Revolutionary Writer or Artist agrees to castrate their ideas & themselves,

Because this is how they can become noticed by the money payers – The Publishers, The Galleries – Society Folk.

The former potential True Revolutionary sighs in giant relief as they grab the long awaited fat cheque.

With cheque -in-hand the former potential Revolutionary knows they have been kept off the street – maybe for life.

No question – It is indeed a big personal payoff.

Of course the creative will keep deluding themselves or lying to others that they are still a potential Revolutionary.

But this has been made impossible by the publishing deal now done & dusted.

For to become known, to become lauded, to become finacially secure –

At some key level the Revolutionary part has to be nixed, neutralised, nullified – signed away with.

And with the artist’s signature now captured in bloody ink, the future Revolution is indefinitely delayed.

The system has won, at least for now.

For the old biblical quote is true:

How can a house stand if it is divided against itself?

The system cannot ever intentianlly promote True Revolutionaries.

This is why by definition all our so called favourite Revolutionary Writers –

Orwell, Huxley, Bukowski, P.K. Dick etc etc

Have all been co-opted by the system,

& so used as a Societal-Anti Revolution-Pressure-Release-Device.

These kinds of authers are all true geniuses & will have known this fact to be true.

For them it’s a hard intellectual fact to swallow –

But they wanted to be successful writers not True Revolutionaries.

It’s not an easy fact for us fans to swallow either –

We like to delude ourselves romantically that they were/are True Bona-fide Revoltionaries.

It’s a kind of shared fantasy that us fans self-police amongst ourselves.

Our mainstream success anti heroes are real dammit, if only more people read them the system would change! Let’s drink to the True Revolutionaries!

I’m not telling anyone to stop reading Orwell, Huxley, Bukowski, P.K. Dick et al,

I’m just busting the myth we all happily go along with –

That they are indeed True Revolutionary Writers.

In summary I contend that the adage The pen is mightier than the sword,

Is actually there so the existing power structure stays in power, & is not overthrown.

The True Revolutionary says the sword is mightier than the pen & would never say the reverse.

And incidentily, all the worst (best?) Dictators all had an intuitive knowledge of this.

Despite all their talent for storytelling & warnings Orwell, Huxley, Bukowski, P.K. Dick et al,

Will first & foremost be Anti-Revolution pressure valves – & so also controlled opposition.

Don’t worry – as a massive fan of them – I don’t want to believe it either!

But this doesn’t stop it from being true.

I’ll also keep reading them all with glee –

despite the fact they are all Societal-Anti Revolution – Pressure-Release-Devices or controlled opposition.

All this is why it’s so hard for anyone to be a True Revolutionary.

You can’t just reach for the cheque.

This article is owned by Martin Smith Creations ltd (NZ). If you are a person or a small non-profit please read or reproduce freely. Commercial Users or NGO’s: If you want to purchase for reprint of this work for a commercial project to reach a wider audience – then contact me via martinantonsmith@gmail.com to gain written legal permission.

“Normal Ain’t Good” (A Poem)

March 29, 2025March 29, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged Adversity, Bukowski, Ghouls, Individuality, Nonconformity, Normality, Poems, social commentaryLeave a comment

by Martin Anton Smith

Normal Ain’t Good

Lose your commitment to being “normal”.

Contrary to popular belief,

You’re allowed to be you.

You need no permission slip,

It’s inalienable.

The Ghouls can only temporarily supress you.

Even if they beat you down your whole life.

At the worst – the trapped bird in your heart will sing after you die.

But try not to go that way.

Fend them off early as possible.

Coz what’s Worse than being “Normal?”

I can’t imagine anything worse.

Those guys don’t even know they’re in Prison!

Don’t sell you & your soul out,

To that normie in-group that ain’t cool –

Despite their false backwards land high-school statuses,

They’re just a bunch of literal Ghouls.

And though some do – most never ever change.

They will remain boring straightjacketed normie assholes for eternity.

That saying ‘everyone deserves the face they’ve got at 50″

Is 100% true.

And their faces will show it sooner than that.

Don’t be one of them.

So Let that Bird in your chest sing,

And tell Normie Ghouls to go fuck themselves.

Normal ain’t good.

Normal ain’t cool.

Normal ain’t nothing.

It was probably just blind chance that being a mean asshole somehow became ‘normal’.

So let that bird in your chest sing.

(Regards to Given Bukowski’s Poem ‘Bluebird’).