Tag Archives: Gabrielle Everall

Overload Poetry Festival in Review

Well the ALS 2009 Tour rolls on, and the 4th leg of the tour took me too the cooler climes of Melbourne town. The big difference on this leg of the tour was that guitar-slinging Rock Pig, Sheish Money was along for the ride. Now Sheish and I have played lots of local gigs, but outside of QLD and Northern NSW, the other states have so far missed out on the Nunn/Money experience. So I have to say… we were fairly excited!

Friday kicked off with the launch of Overload 2009 at the Fitzroy Town Hall, MC’d by poetic raconteur, Myron Lysenko. A truly beautiful venue and great space to mingle with the Melbourne poetry crowd. I was really impressed by the passion of the Mayor who delivered the best speech I have ever heard from a politician at such an event. You really got the sense that she was right behind the festival. After the speeches, The Heart Chamber featuring Matt Hetherington, Tom Joyce, Lia Hills, Marian Spires & Michelle Leber performed a set of love poems. Matt Hetherington’s poem , When I Am Not With Her There Where She Is, the absolute stand out and one of the best contemporary love poems I have read in the last decade.

So with the room feeling the love, Santo Cazzati hit the mic dressed in checked suit and matching hat with all the energy of a box of snakes, promising us to keep us safe from the Fitzroy Ghouls as he lead the poetry crawl, Takin’ it to the Streets. And we were off…

First Stop Dantes.

Sheish Money & Graham Nunn Blue Velvet2_gimpKicking  things off was Gabrielle Everall (WA), who I had seen perform last weekend in Perth. Gabrielle delivers her words in a darkly musical voice. Her poems brimming with equal parts beauty and menace. Her set was followed by fellow West Australian, Vivienne Glance and the man who is on a quest to become Australia’s first poet laureate, Ben Pobje. So with the first leg of the crawl setting the bar high, the crowd was whitled into action, and set off to Southpaw in pursuit of Santo Cazzati and the offerings of poems by Anthony O’Sullivan, Jenny Toune, Kimberley Mann & Sam Byfield. Sadly, Sheish and I had to miss Stop Two to rush back to The Nunnery, get our gear and head off to Blue Velvet to sound check for the the third and final stop for the night.

Third Stop Blue Velvet.

Sheish Money & Graham Nunn Blue Velvet1_gimp

With the sound check done and the crowd squeezing in to the lounge-room sized back room, we hit the stage to open proceedings. No intros, no talking, just the sparkle of Sheish’s big red Kasuga brightening my poems. This was the teaser for Saturday night’s set, so we played only three poems Nomads, Ocean Hearted & Seeing a girl off in a summer storm. The room feel into that deep silence, and for those few minutes, the world seemed to close its eyes. We looked at each and smiled, eager to play an extended set tomorrow night. We were then followed by the be-helmeted Alex Scott and Bribane’s surrealist wildcard, Ghostboy. A Ghostboy set is something to behold. The crowd is just as much a part of the show as the man/ghoul/poet himself. Tonight Ghostboy tied one woman to a chair and incited another pair of ladies to passionately kiss on the carpet. He was on, the crowd lapped it up and he lapped the cheeks of several men in the audience.

We had taken to the streets and the streets had embraced us.

Jenny Toune Bella Union_gimp

Saturday was the big one… tonight Sheish and I stretched our poetic riffs at the Bella Union Trades Hall, sharing the stage with tap-dancing poet Jenny Toune and the mighty Sean M. Whelan & the Interim Lovers. Jenny kicked things off with a show that blew away all my expectations. I have to admit, when I read tap-dancing poet, I wondered whether one of the art forms would suffer, but within minutes, she put all those concerns to rest. She had the moves and the words to make the stage light up. It was a great opening set and a real pleasure to have seen.

 

Sheish Money & Graham Nunn Bella Union1_gimp

Sheish and I were up next, and champing at the mic. From the moment we plugged in, it felt good. We opened with Gutter & Edge which is on the forthcoming CD and the sound, lights and crowd were all in sync. From there we kicked in to Save Me/Lessons, Sheish showing off his full-throated growl, with me stepping in and out to punctuate the verses. It was then in to the newer poems,  Sentinel and And What Voice Says. The dark guitar loop and lead flourishes giving And What Voice Says a whole new life. Sheish then pumped straight into the big open chords of Grounded before channeling Bootsy for a funky version of Oooo… We then reinterpreted old favourite In Devotion Sheish Money & Graham Nunn Bella Union3_gimpto Life’s Sordid Affairs and closed the set with Sheish tearing into the mic with his song Poetry and this Lost Shark, dropping in Point Danger between verses. It was a tight set, the interplay was good and we walked off stage, only to be called on for an encore. This is where the true brilliance of Sheish comes into play. I named a poem and he just knew the right chords… it was off the cuff, it was spontaneous and it was right. We walked off into bright lights of the Bella feeling good.

Sean Whelan & the Interim Lovers Bella Union_gimp

And to round off the night Sean M. Whelan & the Interim Lovers took to the stage unveiling a new set of poems, which reinterpret the Lewis Carrol classic, The Hunting of the Snark. Whelan is a gifted poet and performer. Tonight he swayed with the band’s subtle movements and writhed as they reached crescendo. The poems, never overshadowed by the band and the band… well, I was mesmerised. In fact I could have watched/listened to it all again. I look forward to seeing this project evolve.

Steve Smart Bella Union_gimp

And with MC Steve Smart, bringing the night to a close, we all stumbled off into glorious Lygon Steet for more wine, pizza and endless conversation.

During my time at Overload I also had the pleasure of seeing Eric Beach at The Dan; Santo Cazzati, Steve Smart & Carmen Main, Eddy Burger and Jo Truman & Warren Burt at Glitch Bar and launching Maurice McNamara’s debut collection, Half-Hour Country at Dantes (more about that soon).

There is something incredibly special that happens when poets come together… and this Lost Shark was once again, honoured to be a part of the poetry community. Sheish and I tip our hats to James Waller and crew for all their hard work. I hope you guys are still revelling in it.

To keep up to date with all the Overload events visit Overland and be sure to leave a comment.

NB: All photographs taken by Michael Reynolds… one of this world’s true gentlemen.

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Guided by Poets – WA #2

For this Guided by Poets thread we travel back to the west coast of Australia to check out five exciting, original voices. And here they are:

Amanda Joy – Scott-Patrick Mitchell – Gabrielle Everall – Amber Fresh – Simon Cox

 

 

Stuck Out

Deep night in Tokyo
Memories are smeared light
Sirens sparkle urgency
to pillow-covered ears

The girl            is gooseflesh
hidden by the scrim
                          of her smile

These places she doesn’t show
she sees            on her skin

Black dents and scars
she denies the pleasure  
                                      taken
in shadows       in the near silent
night                 the wet ground

Close still      all deadened day
the residual
smell of scotch on the yawning giant

The night presses     to show
her    how well pretty things look
their purity pressed     against
the contrast of a dark background

 
amanda-joy

Amanda Joy is a poet, writer, installation artist and sculptor living and gardening in Fremantle Western Australia. She is the keeper of a dog called Love and has a great fascination for portals and conduits. She blogs her poetry semi regularly at her website www.littleglasspen.com and www.myspace.com/amanda_joy1970 Her work is included in numerous journals online and every now and then she pops out a little limited edition illustrated chapbook for those who ask nicely. A more sizeable binding of her wordage is gestating.

 

 

Foundations Of Anatomy & Physiology

cheat notes for drown, the game

learning to swim can make 1ne sadly
short of breath, shouting help, help

sinks depth. deep is the river bed
. stoned on currents & babbling, waves

rip & break. a cross without a
bridge has no music to serenade

. shores line. tug, for water is
lonely. glug, for the bed wants

company. like a thug it drugs
heavy. saragossi into the mud

, a slow motion falling in
love. it bloats. you only have

1ne dry life so be sure your
wings don’t just fly.

 

spm

Scott-Patrick Mitchell is a poet & writer living in Perth. He works as a journalist for OUTinPerth, a lesbian and gay news and lifestyle community street press, for whom he writes fashion, arts, music and a regular graffiti column called Perth Street Art. His work has been published in such anthologies as neoteric, Interactive Geographies, naked eye, Poetry Creations, Lines of Wisdom , Red Leaves and Through the Clock’s Working, the world’s first anthology of remixed literature. He edits two zines – ‘COTTONMOUTH’ & the underground literary street art adventure that is MoTHER [has words…].

 

Indi rock god

You saunter through
Rilke’s narrow lyre
there’s nothing of you
to kiss
a rake —
I want to be part
of your progress

I am purdah
I am abject
closer to death

my blind girl body
is sacrificed in you
still rising up to you

my body becomes your name

to believe in you
is to be God’s lover —
the only legitimate passion —
moral passion
triggering moral panic
we must eat
the sweetmeats of Christ

your child body, wafer thin
swallowed with wine
leaves me swollen

Saint Teresa’s eyes
roll in orgasmic jouissance

I want to kiss
every part of your wasted face
the revolt of your christly flesh
that I thought
wasn’t good enough

like a pig in mud
I wallow in thoughts
about you
you’re a belly god
I’m rapacious

the slashing of my skin
is a breath of fresh air

to reach Godhead
tie me to the bedhead
beat me with your beatitudes

the catch 22
of a suffering that causes jouissance
and a jouissance that causes suffering —

deprivation is your scripture

I a desiring ascetic
you an object
that is handed to me
like a child
is given a toy

a daddy toy
a never ending sweet
I’m an all day sucker

Christ has been there
God started it all.

 

gabrielle-everall

Gabrielle Everall has published Dona Juanita and the love of boys with the assistance of The Department of Culture and The Arts in late 2007.  She has been previously published in The Penguin Anthology of Australian Poetry, Herding Kites, Cordite, The Sleeper’s Almanac, A Salt Reader etc and has work forthcoming in Going Down Swinging.  She has performed her poetry at The Big Day Out, Putting On An Act, NRLA, NYWF, Overload and The Emerging Writer’s Festival etc.  She also performs at Perth poetry readings Cottonmouth and Voicebox.

 

 

Bitumen

one time i asked a boy to push me over in the carpark
where we were and

at that instant i thought it was an incredibly
romantic thing to ask a boy

just as that feeling of possible romance was fading he did
push me over

when  i say ‘push’ i mean
suddenly his whole body was rammed against mine and i
flew about a million centimetres into the air

well, across the air and through the air really, and then
onto the bitumen, with my whole body smacked and
crushed against itself and into the ground at the same
time

that boy would have done anything i asked
so i’m glad we didn’t have a gun

one time if you get someone to push you over you will
know exactly what i’m talking about

but only if they are exactly the right person

 

amber-fresh

Amber Fresh is a writer from Perth (via Albany and Paris). Her poems have been published in Westerly, Navigations, Cottonmouth Zine, MoTHER [has words…], The Ponies Zine, and Metior. This year she released her first book of poetry, “Between You and Me”, with funding from the Department of Culture and the Arts. She writes on a typewriter and makes music in a band called Rabbit Island.

 

 

The Same Place Twice

Nothing. Nothing but the storm held aloft by a kite string,
the mind an empty bucket in the rain, beds freshly poured
for the leaf litter, puddles open pores in the pavement.

Nothing but the sky gone cerebral with storm clouds,
the rain coming on like a migraine, synapses lit up with
the one thought, clouds epileptic with lightning. 

Nothing but the thought like water vapour over our heads,
the answer around which all questions hang rhetorical,
the perfume of the executioner sweet as summer rain,
the moment perfect in its passing.

Nothing but the boy pulling down
on his kite string, the sky pulling back up.

Nothing but the stars come unstuck in the storm
and the clouds gridlocked on the horizon,
the wiring live between my fingers
and the sound from inside the seizure. 

 

 

simoncox

Simon Cox was the Katharine Susannah Prichard Writers’ Centre Young-Writer-in-Residence in 2008, and has been published in Voiceworks and the Sleepers’ Almanac. With friends he organises Perth’s monthly spoken word showcase, ‘Cottonmouth’, and will help publish an anthology of Cottonmouth performers this June. In 2008 he self-published a chapbook of poems, Book Lung. http://www.cottonmouth.org.au/

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