Scatterhatter
Aug 27, 2017

Carparks for creatives

Wow moving is hard
So much shit
Do i need it
Houses are vessels that hold
Too
much
Crap

I feel like packing into a bag
Throwing it in my car
And venturing far

A pen a book a pad
My passenger seat
As my writing reading nook

The rain on the roof
To send me to the back seat
For slumber

Why don't we create
Carparks for creatives
Where theres a communal tent
For us to rant and vent

But society dictates these places
Are for the homeless

Homeless isn't the right word

Houselesness
is a freedom
We've lost
But government pulls us in
To the forever bill paying fiend
And stuff shit hoarding

About This Poem

Last Few Words: Rough. Really rough. But how moving stuff makes me feel.. .

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Tasmania, Australia

Favorite Poets: Teresa Hooley

More from this author

Comments

S

Thanks Mark for your great comments!
Wow you're tough. One year. Geez if I worked on that rule I'd have hardly anything!.
Maybe that's the plan then!

S

Thanks for the tips Mark,
Sorry I've been out of action for a while.
I hope your place can keep getting funded as long you need to stay there.
I'm still struggling with the stuff of the past. but it'll all come together I'm sure.. I like the advice that you've given me, especially as today I've been looking at 3 computers, record players, portable CD players, printers, etc etc - I feel like putting a sledge hammer through it all. But it belonged to my late dad, so I want to retrieve things first. But the leads, are everywhere.
Thanks for your comments... I really appreciate them.

vandiemenspeak

This reminds me a lot of moving up north. Fresh, honest and not overdone. and I agree with your sentiments:

Houselesness
is a freedom
We've lost

Nicely put - food for thought..

Take care,

Chris.

S

Sorry for the delay in replying Chris, I'e been out of action for a little while.
My thoughts have changed slightly, I'm more inclined to have a little bit more comfort, and be surrounded by nature, in a gypsy van parked on a hill top, overlooking a valley....
With a communal hall rather than a a venting tent!

swamp-witch

This is a new take on an old tradition. The romantics and transcendentalists wanted to escape to nature to find their true selves and become real artists. Yet, this poem shows someone who is content just to get out of the house at all. I think that shows how society has changed from feeling like a meaningful escape has to be so far and so mystical and perfect to being content with whatever we can get because everything really has gone to shit in so many ways.

Would love to see where you take this poem, so let me know if you have any particular revisions in mind or areas that you found particularly weak and I'd be happy to offer suggestions.

Take care,
Kelsey

S

Hi Kelsey,
Strange that you say about getting into nature. I've just been on an arts residency for a week. Into glorious nature, into some mountains. Where I was stranded for a few days without being able to leave. Which was ironic really, because I'd gone there to explore the area and nature and be inspired by all it's glory but because of lack of access I couldn't. So back into the city I came and then my exploration began again...
Thanks for your comments and suggestions of help.
I think I'm going to sit back for a while and read some others here before going back into rework my words. But I may take you up on the offer some time!