“One of the first things that drew me to poetry was how hard it is to actually define. To me, poetry is a way of seeing the world far beyond its literal form. It is a form of art, in the sense that it comments on the world and provokes emotions from within that help us to connect with one another. It is this connection – writer to reader, songwriter to listener, painter to viewer – that excites me the most. In a world where all connection is made through screens and wires, I think it is essential that literary arts are resurrected and kept alive.” – A Conversation with Chris Gill, Verses

Latest poems

An Alternate Vision

“It’s a new dawn
it’s a new day”
blasts through these speakers
like bright light
through a black net
Doom and gloom
print the papers
like this as good
as it’s gon’ get
Yet
“…I’m feeling gooood”

See
this year gon’ be a good one
I can feel it in my bones
As we occupy the Internet
protest to protect our homes
The word’s in from New Orleans
like a jazz player’s favourite song
We are the 99%
so which side are you on?

This year let’s all be activists
take our signs and make marching a trend
Fight big government and corporations
that turn a profit every time we spend
Let’s no longer just be consumers
let’s be people with wisdom too
Let’s march until we lose our voices
until our fists are black and blue

This year let’s all be feminists
the fight’s not just for women
but men too
To put out the flames of patriarchy finally
Until we’re all equal
Him, her
me and you

This year let’s all be environmentalists
to realise nature’s not our possession
We need to take better care of the planet
make the Blue Marble our new obsession

This new year, twenty-twelve
is filled with hope and reconnection
Let’s show each other love
respect and true affection
At the bottom of the rainbow
a pot of freedom is what I see
I see sunshine and blue skies
through the pohutukawa and palm trees

Let’s join forces and make a promise
to from now on make informed decisions
In return I’ll make a vow
to keep on writing with
an alternate vision

Long road

Here I stand
blood and bones
fully grown
right before you
Sticks and stones
they won’t hurt me

I have wandered
across the globe
looking for home
This is a journey
the road is long
it won’t unnerve me

Let Mother Nature
be your only guide
don’t let temptation
lead you to the other side
I’ve tasted forbidden fruit before
and it left me with nothing
a hollow core

Here I stand
skin and soul
finally whole
right beside you
Artificial ones
they won’t mislead me
ever again

I have travelled
across the earth
looking for rebirth
This is a journey
the road is long
it won’t deter me

This is the time
This is the time
This is the time

Chris Gill’s debut book of poetry, Verses, is out now through PRNTD. Order a limited edition from the PRNTD Shop now.

“It is so gratifying to finally have a place for all of these weather-worn poems to exist beside one another. Whatever you take from my memoirs, I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed freeing them. These are my treasures. These are my scars. These are my verses.” – A Conversation with Chris Gill, Verses

Samples from the book below

Creases

You sit there
high upon your corporate throne
You want to straighten out all my creases
every fold
every crinkle
make it even
not a wrinkle

To fit your mould
mild and marketable
Make me polished
pristine and profitable
Inside your box
Silenced and subtle

Here I stand
every scribble like a riddle
on my body covered up
They’re reading my arms like pages from a book
But they won’t explain me no matter how much they look

He asks: “What is it you want?
How are you willing to get it?”
What he means is: “Does your writing have a market?
If so how are we going to sell it?”

He doesn’t listen to my answers
he can barely remember my name
Instead he is wondering if my work will create hype
and if I’m willing to play the game

This dirty tube never stops moving
and you can smell the money on their fingertips
but I need all my fingers
to write and write and write
So they can dangle their dirty paper
I’m still going to fight and fight and fight

When you switch off the lights at night
and you are alone with your thoughts
are you content with this life you lead
and all these shiny things you’ve bought?

I am an underdog, not a tool
I will be the exception to your rule
I will never be your fucking profit
go rob the soul of some other fool

Home

Large white houses like
the ones out of a design magazine
you pass
Visions of purity and nuclear bliss
Laughter and music
a mother’s kiss

The street meanders like a river
the air polluted with the odour
of a plant
Three more steps
staircase situated slumped
foaming mouth
sullen eyes
the worst surprise

Twenty two years pass
and never do you arrive home
to a man with such darkness in his eyes
Come to warn you of your
imaginary invincibility

Chills creep up across your neck
like tiny cat paws
like a tiny mouse
racing up your tiny staircase

Yet all you were trying to do
was trying to make a home
All you were trying to do
was trying to find somewhere to call your own

You could be content and complete
in one place
Laughter and music
your mothers kiss…

It’s just not this

Blur

I have seen that
dazed glaze
over those two naïve eyes
too many times

Little sparkly crystals
within your flow of blood
I know exactly how it feels
but none of it is real

Parading yourself all over this town
just don’t ever forget
what comes up must come down

Is this world not beautiful enough as it is?
Has nature not handed you enough acrylic
to colour your canvas in?
Must you always win?
Is your night not finished until you sweat
and you spin?

You think I have lost interest
but I’m just tired of these games
The routine is so familiar now
I know every step and every line
I no longer have the energy
I’m wasting too much time

As I depart the party early
I soba up on my journey back to what I prefer
Back before my foreground went out of focus
sending my world into a blur
You remain in ecstasy
but as something I detest
It’s finally time to clean up this mess

Shiny Coins

It’s a virtual Hollywood boulevard
spat out as the century shifts
Faces gaunt and glossy
skin hangs and sags against bird-like skulls
Empty eyes gaze into the electronic bulb’s
reflection
Mirrors. Masquerades. Deception.

Page after page of people products
listlessly sold to the thought police
Conditioned and contained
to be intertwined and defaced
stored and remade
in this global database

The boy with silver hair
has nothing at all to say
so he sits perched upon his ledge
like a bird upon a billboard
drawing so much interest and awe
as originality is running thin
Where is the next one of a kind
what is the next big thing?

Colour fades
as a bolder yearning invades
Every exclusive, collective party loses its appeal
for something more real
The stars become tiny shiny coins
and the sky a colossal vending machine above us
Our bodies become cornfields brushing side to side
in the ever shifting seasonal snake of existence
in which we are enslaved to persistence

It is in this perfect place of purgatory
I decide to leave your world behind
A picture paints a thousand lies

Published by PRNTD © 2013 All rights reserved