...BECAUSE SOME OF US THINK THAT THIS STUFF IS IMPORTANT
What happens when you mix what is - arguably - the world's most interesting record company, with an anarchist manic-depressive rock music historian polymath, and a method of dissemination which means that a daily rock-music magazine can be almost instantaneous?

Most of this blog is related in some way to the music, books and films produced by Gonzo Multimedia, but the editor has a grasshopper mind and so also writes about all sorts of cultural issues which interest him, and which he hopes will interest you as well.

Sunday, 29 June 2014

THOM THE WORLD POET: The Daily Poem


Rob Ayling writes: 

"Thom the World poet is an old mate of mine from way back in my history. Even pre-dating Voiceprint, when I was running "Otter Songs" and Tom's poetry tapes and guest appearances with Daevid Allen, Gilli Smyth Mother Gong are well known and highly regarded. It just felt right to include a daily poem from Thom on our Gonzo blog and when I approached him to do so, he replied with in seconds!!! Thom is a great talent and just wants to spread poetry, light and positive energy across the globe. If we at Gonzo can help him do that - why not? why not indeed!!" (The wondrous poetpic is by Jack McCabe, who I hope forgives me for scribbling all over it with Photoshop)

SOME CHILDREN MAY NEVER KNOW WHAT REAL FOOD IS
some city folk may never ride a horse
or smoke real (rolling)tobacco
or recognize a horse trough,or a saddle bar or hitching rail
some will never shoe a horse
or recognize horse droppings in their streets
after parades and circuses and Presidencies
always the shovellers/not talking heads
more day laborers.Someone has to do it-
create Potemkin Villages for Hollywood
Someone makes those illusory special effects
featuring the destruction of China
Guns and guards and continuous assessment in schools
but no real food.Ketchup is not a vegetable!
Ritalin and self-medication is not healing!
In rest homes,they bring in cats,comfort dogs
birds in cages-gentle reminders of what we are not.
Perhaps hands on a horse rather than a car body

might restore our inner wilderness/even in a locked ward.

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