We want equal pay and equal rights
Who cares about fucking traffic lights
Tax Payers forking out the cash
To look at female signs whilst they dash
There needs to be more gender equality
But this my friend is simple council polity
(C) T. Altman, 7/3/2017
Inspired by the news that Melbourne council is adding female walking signs:
News Article Link: Victorian Pedestrian Crossing Equal Walking Signs
Astro
Conjuncting planets
Surface inner wounds
Heal Heal Heal
Numbing emotions
Starving the loons
Heal Heal Heal
Retrograde complices
Cultivates clear transmutation
Heal Heal Heal
(C) T. Altman 2017
A Tribute to the Prioress
Hoodwinked mink draped, disheveled
Acid lined lips, solarium burns
Archaic Bitch diesel, mingled menthol
Yellow talons tapping antagonistic dissimilarity
Vacuous ill-disposed soul
T. Altman 2017
“Your writing starts with a vision – a dream.
A belief that you need to put down what you are seeing in your mind.
It drives you and inspires you…this vision.
It makes you want to feel something as you are passionate about the process.”
(C) T. Altman 2017
Sometimes the only way out of the pain, is to go through it.
Hemingway knew that:
A writers life can be a solitary undertaking but it doesn’t mean you are alone…
A Witch’s Life
When I was a child
there was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called The Witch.
All day she peered from her second story
window
from behind the wrinkled curtains
and sometimes she would open the window
and yell: Get out of my life!
She had hair like kelp
and a voice like a boulder.
I think of her sometimes now
and wonder if I am becoming her.
My shoes turn up like a jester’s.
Clumps of my hair, as I write this,
curl up individually like toes.
I am shoveling the children out,
scoop after scoop.
Only my books anoint me,
and a few friends,
those who reach into my veins.
Maybe I am becoming a hermit,
opening the door for only
a few special animals?
Maybe my skull is too crowded
and it has no opening through which
to feed it soup?
Maybe I have plugged up my sockets
to keep the gods in?
Maybe, although my heart
is a kitten of butter,
I am blowing it up like a zeppelin.
Yes. It is the witch’s life,
climbing the primordial climb,
a dream within a dream,
then sitting here
holding a basket of fire.
I have met so many writers of late who don’t write.
Some are too worried about criticism, whilst others feel that they are not good enough to write.
My advice: Ignore what people think and just write!
Write for the pleasure, write for the practice and most importantly just write for yourself…whether it be fiction or non-fiction, regardless of the subject matter – just do it!
You don’t have to show anyone if you don’t want to…BUT:
To be a writer you must actually write!
The Melbourne Writers Festival is happening in Melbourne, Australia next month.
Victoria’s premier annual literary event. The Festival connects writers and stories to celebrate a world of literature, explore universal ideas, and inspire a global community of readers.
The Festival invites thought-provoking discussion at events exploring the hottest topical issues. For those who prefer to focus on life’s pleasures, there’ll be events for foodies, travelers and connoisseurs of culture. We’ll also invite adventurous readers to join like-minded lovers of literature for a range of relaxed social activities in unexpected places.
For all sessions and workshops check out their website here:
The Emerging Writers Festival is happening in Melbourne, Australia next month.
The Emerging Writers’ Festival is a not-for-profit organisation whose foundations are built on supporting emerging writers. They are a place where creativity and innovation is celebrated, where new talent is nurtured and where diverse voices from across Australia are represented.
For all sessions and workshops check out their website here:
I’ve been writing lots of poetry in recent months due to being inspired by people and the world around me. Things which have been bubbling to the surface and needing to breathe, have forced its way out.
April is poetry month and I have been actively participating in the Dirty Thirty (one poem every day for 30 days in April).
Truth be told, most of my work has been filled with profanities but this one was written whilst contemplating my parents and is one I would like to share with you:
Imperishable Stars
Imperishable Stars
Never to rise nor set
Your luminous hearts fixed
Watching in abject silence
Epithets eternally emblazoned
Within and upon your earthly kin
Eternally through the promised premise
Incandescent in dogging darkness
(C) T. Altman 2016
tinaaltman.com 