‘All Our Tomorrows’ -Evolving Epic Autobiographical Poetry Project 2019 -Join and Share!

Will you join me in this epic autobiographical poetry project for 2019? Please share with all your poetic blogger friends! The idea is that a growing community of us on WordPress write epic life poems to encapsulate our lives, periodically evolving the poems so that our evolving perspectives and experiences are reflected.

Every time we update our poems, we re-post them, and we mention in our introductions (this bit you’re reading) all the other bloggers involved in the project, and link to all those bloggers. (If it becomes massive, we’ll have to list the poets on static pages on our blogs).

We all call our poem ‘All Our Tomorrows’ which will hopefully increase traffic to our sites and you know, become a ‘thing’. Also, giving our poems this title will hopefully help us reflect in our poetry, over time, the fact that all human beings’ pasts and futures are intertwined.

Duplicating lines between poets in the project is also encouraged, (please get permission from the poet whose lines you wish to use, and be sensible i.e. don’t request to duplicate an entire verse from someone else! Remember, if you pass on a line, the person you pass it to may pass it on again, and so on). As well as listing the All Our Tomorrow’s community in your post intro’s, please credit individual lines to whoever you have sourced them from, if they are not your own.

Thus we will be encouraged to write a community of autobiographical poems that has some overlap and develops something of a shared vocabulary. Despite our individuality, there will be threads of poetry in our experiences which resonate beyond us. And so we will develop our own special tradition. The idea is to try to span your whole life in the poem, eventually.

This is a project that I would love to see experienced poets as well as beginner poets join. Note that every time you re-post, (or ‘stick’ the poem for a few days at the top of your blog page) it is also a chance to redraft and improve your poem -even the bits that describe experiences which haven’t in your view changed. You can re-post as often or as little as you want (I haven’t touched my poem in weeks). Please also write ‘All Our Tomorrows’ as a tag for these posts, so folk can find us as we get more and more well known! So far in the All Our Tomorrows community there is…just me, Matthew Kalessin.

Below is the beginnings of my epic poem. A history of my life which I hope sheds some light on the issues that I care about, in a way that may also inspire others. Over time I intend it to develop to be a reflection of everything that I see as vital within me; everything that is expressed through the Epic Tomorrows blog and business.

 

All Our Tomorrows

 

Next time I come I will kill the Man inside

I was birthed in a waspital, Scots-beseiged

He gave grey opium to my fragile mother

In-out skirts of Europe’s heroin city

Trial clinic, Empire pushing it on China

-The Scots mountains glowered

But the light of my Spirit daybroke

Pulsing for the justice to be

 

Far from the north is the English southwest

We moved for the sake of Father Career

Forgotten wee lassies and laddies just gone

Two girls and a boy, my coven my clan

Paled for Him, rugged, the eagle’s decline

Lesser buzzards, scanned the factory lowlands

Neither they, nor I could make sense of this botch

-Patchwork, the bank-rolling countryside irks

 

Quilted confused…market-town fused

From aged three I was praised without boundary

But vaguely blamed for failures in the fable home

-That was my mother, I was provided for

Instilled with liberty’s statue, that was mother

And my poor dear father, I was traumatised

In the porch, three years after Scotland

-You left, the never-returner –trauma echoes daily

 

I played with girls carnally young and free

Explorer of sensuality, piano keys and paper

A little older I touched boys, that was me too

The big shock of big school, soul’s blocked unfurling

Uncompromising sports field, trust degraded

Of the life of the Father, sickening classroom

Sometimes I found wilderness, self-touched in mud

Reluctant into Manhood’s violent ways

 

Now aged sixteen, mind heavy, metal rebel

Pierced and couldn’t kiss the numbed young women

They meant too much to me and most of them

Seemed bewildered, maybe traumatised by Him

I never knew genderqueer, this was ‘ninety-five

And Queer favours the city -didn’t live there

Yet my genderwild Spirit fought its way undefined

Amidst brambles, meadows and cannabis smoke

 

At eighteen on a trampoline, my desperate lock on

To a woman, ‘men have girlfriends’ Father said

Went to university ‘because that’s what men do’

Father said. I learnt how Greece and Rome

Got away with murder, (Catullus and his cunts)

Smoked too much skunk, bombed on speed

Ate the junk food of the Man, ate it all

In Midlands towns, dead canal’s hope

 

This renegade son did fancy women some

Too shy for Father’s laid out courtship role

So I grabbed hold of another I was indifferent to

‘This is what men do’ spake Father, ‘now chain your heart’

The metal got angrier, I broke down came home

Mother-coddled again, diag-supposed a ‘social phobic’

Father said ‘you are inept at my game

-There’s no other’ (Phobic of that is no illness)

 

I was grain-fed diag-dozed-bull-nosed ‘depressed,

Moderately, with psychotic features’ i.e. Father’s sins

Obfuscated in this painful presentation

Capabilities pressed-down and frustrated

Then pressed-down and frustrated by medications more

Which sought to check my lofty projections

Of what humanity could achieve in me

And the others I knew who took their own lives

 

I learnt the Buddha-Dhamma and it was life

To realise deep in space, I’m neither he nor she

I took up boxing, to kill the Man inside me

Learnt tantra alone, came in fountains of rainbow

Joy of Holy Spirit coursing through in

Moments healing every Fatherly ill

‘No-one could touch me’ but I wanted touch

Genderwild Spirit, caress of leaf, thorny taunt

 

Lonely slipped, tripped into pornographic hell

By umbilical cord of deathly cable broke

Free years earlier but the images returned:

Women doing headstands in pools of primordial

Maggots crawling in their eyes, a huge dais

Supported on their feet, atop of which, a throne

Occupied by Father which is to say haunted

By fetid sob of guilty rage, repeated zombified

 

-I met a woman as selfish as I –as sweet

The destruction of She, of Earth, mental health

On her land we built against, railed against, unlawful

Silent haven with a magick core of confluence

Karmic threads infinite, there where redemption

Of everything was possible, yet the tragedy was

Our love was not equal to our difference

Or the madness of the district’s laws

 

Labelled again, ‘borderline personality disorder’

This fine personality disarrayed on society’s fringes

-This society disordered, by a Romanian shrink

Border-ashamed of her agrarian country past

She assured me it was ‘modernising’ (Father spake)

Like her profession’s pills would ‘modernise’ me

The pills that traumatised I now refused to take

And her suggestion that my unfinished projects

 

Were a sign of illness and not the poetry

Of an expansive mind spiralling out to completion

Through ever grander, superseding ventures

Like the mass adventure of humanity itself

-Then named ‘bi-polar’, this sort of oriented

My map –no time to teach the new doc

Long hungover as I was from illicits and psychiatrics

But thank you doc yes, a certain soaring, a crash

 

‘Schizoaffective disorder’ was then slapped on by

A young psych-twist who received the careless

Wilful spin I gave my condition that day

In orders that I profit from the welfare state hateful

Yet I had no need, for the whispers were real

The sensitive Cosmos is all my affect

And clear to me, flickering through this no-mind

Too quick for doc to notice, but voices keep stock

 

-The first time delectable, the only sweet time

I ever fell for a man, walked onto a farm

He was shovelling earth, we both knew at once

Our conversation, bisexual could stay just in talking

Relief of revealing release of cross-dressing

-Yet crossing what? Patriarchy’s nasty ‘transvestism’

Father’s ice way, not admitting our freedom

Spirit spitting fire through genderdom constructs

 

Spirit castigating the love that is reined

His possessive lust, monogamy, now I realise

Since school days of awakening sexuality

When I’d pen epic erotica of all the girls

That my sex is liberated but greater than that

My love, my soul is unfettered is the quick

And deep growth is the sun’s love, the shoot

(Even when through us Earth wars with Herself)

 

-To Rojava! Where the women determine themselves

Defend and study the science of themselves

In a gaping whole blasted through the nation state

That drew my Spirit through the cybersphere

English comrades have gone, recalling Spain

To where the town decides what’s best for the town

Attacked by cold Turkey, Father Erdogan

Accruing weapons from the bitch at Britain’s helm

 

Thirteen painted ominous and absent by such men

Thirteen moons birthed roots thirteen of oceans well:

First moon wilderness, second, wilderless human builds

Third, the body’s hoelth, fourth, Godly dirty ecstasy

Fifth, materials to live, sixth, a family to give love

Seventh, community, eighth, a society to give worth

Ninth, worth spoken and heard, tenth, understood, eleventh

Created afresh, twelfth, in Spirit, thirteenth all dramatically told

 

Now finally the genderqueen’s Voodoo chile

Erupts from my guts, an alien to some

Plans plenty hatched but yet to conquer

Yet to soar like the Scottish golden raptor

Now I don’t want, particularly, women or men

Most would put me out back in a box again

The same old has failed, chaste in my rebellion

If you’re not a rebel with me, chase me hard

 

But if you are genderwild I may rainbow come to you

Killing the Man inside that has kept us sweetly sick

Be we he, she, both, neither, inbetween

And orgasm as yourself and say no to all drugs

-Now frightened I crouch in my rural base

Dartmoor rocks, gushing Spirit mine, inexhausts

Was I never a Man? –never would I be –I was never

Mentally Ill –all I’m is this Rising Up!